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winterarmyy · 2 years

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Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I've read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who's actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 1.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just fluffy and wholesome stuff here. Nothing graphic or explicit.

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There's a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“He's late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.” She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn't care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Six months ago, she stood on the alter with that man. They swore an oath. They sealed the kiss. He was hers and she was his.

James Buchanan Barnes; Bucky was what he preferred to called. He is what every man wants to become, and every woman wants to be with.

An Adonis of a man; impossibly tall, 6'5"; body armored with thick layer of muscles. Bucky is huge, that if he trapped her against the wall, she might just see the resemblance of him to a grizzly bear. His dark hair flowed just above his shoulder and his steel blue eyes were as cold as his personality.

Though she wouldn't compare him to a frozen blizzard during the winter, he was more like the first day of snow, when the white flakes started to fall.

Cold enough to make you shiver and warm enough to lure you out but most importantly, obscenely beautiful.

However, of course, the main reason of the marriage set up by her father was not because of how beautiful he is, but to fulfil his hunger for power. As if the territories that their family has wasn't enough, her father arranged this union to extend his reign.

Y/N protested at first but knew better than to fight against her father. Being raised in such family, at a very young age she learned to think always ahead; pass the emotions and intuitions. What's the rational and logical way to solve a problem.

Took her a week to wrap her head around the matter, research about Barnes and go through the agreement between her father and her then husband to be. Barnes had listed some main demands regarding the union and although most of them were about their business, but one particular demand had caught her attention.

“After marriage, the couple must be faithful to one another. Any romantic/sexual relationships prior must be severed/resolved immediately. Failed to do so will result to termination of the contract.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She thought.

Not that she was in any relationship at the time, and all the research result to possibly positive outcome. So, in the end, she complied.

Which then explained why she was sleeping in Bucky's bed six months later.

“I know you're awake.” Bucky's gravel voice startled her internal thoughts. She could feel the indentation of the mattress on his side of the bed, the fresh and clean scent wafting from him. She nearly purred from a sniff of it.

She slowly opened her eyes as if she was trying to peep and god what a sight to see after a restless sleep; Bucky's idea of pajamas was basic pants and nothing above and Y/N didn’t know what to feel about that. Does she hate it? Absolutely not. Does she like it? Well, he is easy on the eye indeed.

The room was dimly lit, but she could see his slightly damp hair; it looked longer than it is dry. Her eyes followed the outline of his body leaning against the bed. The soft light reflected on his metal arm particularly follows the gold lines decorating the dark surface.

She often had intrusive thoughts of tracing the lines; what would it feel like against her fingertips. Does he feel anything? Is it cold? Will it feel good?

“You do know that it’s a waste your time to wait for me, right?” He huffed a heavy breath. She could hear the fatigue in his sigh.

And how does Bucky know that she waited for him before admitting her defeat to the drowsiness? Somehow, Bucky always managed to know things, to the littlest matter, even when he’s million miles across the world.

Just like when she found a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed a few months ago. The day before she received it, her copy was drenched in coffee; a young woman bumped into her in front of the café she often visit. He was in Russia that time. “Was it Clint? Did he tell Bucky?” she wondered.

“Whoever said I was waiting for you?” She scoffed, yet if the room was well lit enough, Bucky would’ve seen how playful her expression was.

He hummed a deep voice, “Hmm.” there’s a hint of doubt in his tone.

Y/N quickly follow her previous sentence, “I was simply enjoying my reading, that I lost track of time.” She shifted to face him and tucked herself further into the blanket, hiding the lower half of her face as she looked up at him. She wondered if he could tell that she was smiling just from her eyes.

Bucky’s gaze remained still on her, as if he was trying to reach into her soul, before he leaned closer to peek on the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice written on it.

He chuckled, which was rare. At the least the real ones are.

Of course, she had seen him smile and laugh countless of time. Especially during those gala they often attend. But those were just another set of armor he wore on a daily basis.

Bucky tried to bite back a smile, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, “Lost track of time, huh?” Yet, somehow Y/N can hear the smile in his tone.

“A good read?” he asked as if he did not know why his wife brought up about the book. She never said anything about the gift; not a thank you or a complaint.

She simply cherish it in her own way. He heard from Clint that she rearranged her whole bookshelf just to make space for the book he gave her. Maybe this was her way of saying thank you.

He had been giving her books every week, since.

She pulled the blanket away from her face, lips curled into a genuine smile, “Always.”

Bucky preened to her reply before suddenly, “Okay, enough chit chat. It’s late.” he said almost monotone sounded, as he made himself comfortable under the blanket.

Before she could overthink of what went wrong, why the sudden drop of chemistry; that was when she felt his hand roamed to find hers. Bucky brought her palm closer to his face, she could feel his hot breath against her cold skin.

He leaned his lips on her palm, leaving a soft and tender kiss as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doll.”

Rush of red shades bloomed on her cheeks, before caving into the feeling of his stubble on her hand. She gently caresses the side of his cheeks, hoping it soothes him to sleep.

The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile, "See? Like, the first day of snow."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: It’s my first fic so... share your thoughts? ily 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #plottwistfic #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x reader #arranged marriage #husband!bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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jamespottersdaisy · 1 year

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We could slow dance to rock music, kiss while we do it.

Sirius Black x fem!reader.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

warnings - drinking, mentions and allusions to sex, no explicit description but still it's pretty obvious that i'm talking about sex so i don't want minors around, fwb?

6.2k

author's note - i like this, but also don't. english is not my first language so beware <3

Your eyebrows were creased, straining the muscles around your temples. You would feel the slowly-forming headache if you weren’t too deep in thought, glaring at the parchment before you.

Stars, lines, moon, and a blank space. A blank space which you should fill.

It wasn’t supposed to be that hard, not if you already had an O.W.L degree, yet somehow your nerves were tense, and you could feel your angry breath against your lips. You were aware of your heartbeat and your shirt's fabric on your skin.

Maybe you should’ve just gone to sleep. It would be nice to lie on the soft bed, and bury yourself under the heavy blanket. Slowly relaxing to the warmth, closing your eyes and dreaming…

No. You had a star chart to finish.

Thus, you groaned and started abusing your poorly-overworked brain once more.

You drew and erased and drew again. You took a break to rest your fingers, messaged your temple, and you drew once more. You even measured the distance between two stars before drawing yet again.

You were almost finished when a chortle echoed from the stairs.

It sounded closer and closer with every second, yet it wasn’t accompanied by anything. Whoever the person that was wandering around at…

You checked the clock.

Three in the morning.

Whoever was wandering around at three in the morning, he was alone. What was he laughing at then?

You didn’t need to wonder more as your head snapped at the stairs instinctively when you felt his shadow.

“Black?”

Sirius was staggering down the stairs with a big grin on his face. He frowned a bit when he found your frame crunched up behind a table.

“Why are you up?” he asked, and you could barely comprehend the words.

“Studying,” you said, “Why are you up?”

He shrugged and tripped over, supporting himself from the walls. Another chuckle left his lips.

You tried not to laugh at his state.

“Are you drunk?”

He offered you a belittling look, which you were sure emerged because of the intoxication.

“No. Do I seem drunk?”

His long raven hair was loose, tousled around his face. His eyes were glassy, and a hazy grin was embracing his lips. You tried not to stare at his jawline.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I am not drunk, so,” Sirius threw himself at the sofa and winced when his head hit its arm. “Perhaps a bit tipsy.”

“How did you even manage to sneak alcohol in?”

You were sure they didn’t leave alcohol lying around in the castle, and nor did they serve it during dinner. Your question seemed to only amuse him more.

“Ask no questions, hear no lies,” he drawled, turning his head at you. “What are you studying?”

His outstretched hand pointed to the parchment before you, and you shrugged.

“Star chart.”

“Did you find me?”

You smiled and arched a brow at him. Little did he know he was the only thing you could think about when you were looking at the star named ‘Sirius’.

“You’re the brightest, how could I not?”

He hummed and stared at the ceiling. You turned back at the paper before you and tried to focus.

Sirius’s presence didn’t render focusing any easy. You were hyper-aware of anything he did and everything you did. You could feel him cast spells with his wand, fetching a chess piece or flying a bar of chocolate around. You could feel your leg bouncing up and down and the urge to stare at him nagging you.

It wasn’t your fault that Sirius Black was beautiful.

Jet black hair cascaded to his shoulders, tired grey eyes cutting into your soul like a knife. His sharp bone structure only complimented more to his mischievous grin. The way he carried himself around in the hallways would ensnare your breath, and the wry smile his lips crafted would glisten your stomach.

Sometimes you would find yourself observing the way he carried out idlest tasks, and you would feel drawn to the way his long fingers played with a pen or the way he slicked his hair back from his face. Occasionally, he would catch you staring, and his lips would curl into a sly grin.

You might not fancy him or bear feelings for him, but you definitely found him attractive.

“When do you think you’ll be done?”

You flinched at his dulcet tone, averting your head at his slouched stature. His eyes were still on the ceiling.

“In a few minutes, why?”

“I’m bored,” he finally glanced at you. “I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour.”

“It’s been roughly twenty-five minutes since you’ve come down,” you said, swallowing the words for ‘Why are you waiting for me?’

“Same thing,” he shrugged and called you again. “Be quick, come on.”

You didn’t remember what you scribbled down on the paper, but you were sure they were all wrong. You merely got it over with to walk up and sit next to him.

Sirius sat up, offering you space on the sofa. You placed yourself a bit away from him and stared at his face. He stared back at you. You didn’t blink away. Neither did he.

Finally, you got bored.

“You said you were waiting for me–”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You made a confused sound at him. What was with intoxicated Sirius? Sober Sirius wouldn’t ask this to you.

“You were waiting for me to ask this?”

“No, I just forgot what I was gonna say,” he nodded several times, eyelids getting heavy. “So, I thought I wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

“You’re a bit tipsy, and you've already started forgetting what you were gonna say?”

“Why are you asking the facts as questions? It’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.”

You were looking more bemused than before now. Sirius must’ve seen it that he started laughing. You didn’t comprehend what was going on in his head.

“You don’t even notice doing it, do you?”

“Sirius, you sure you alright? You haven’t smacked your head on a wall or something?”

He looked around thoughtfully.

“Remus did smack his book to my head an hour ago.”

“You should go to bed,” you got up, offering him your hand. “You’re talking gibberish.”

“I’m good,” he shook his head, grinning up at you while sinking deeper into the sofa. “We have just started talking.”

“Well, I want to sleep,” you grabbed his hand and dragged him. “Get your arse up.”

He was heavier than he looked; you were having a hard time dragging him up on his feet. You were having a hard time getting yourself up on your feet, too, when he pulled you into his lap by your intertwined hands.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, feeling Sirius’s fingers on your back. You were awfully conscious of his touch and your placement on his lap.

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Sirius,” you grit your teeth, trying to raise yourself. He clicked his tongue when you squirmed, giving you a disapproving look.

“Don’t move too much,” he said, and you felt his grip on your back tightening.

You wanted to get up but didn’t want to feel another…friction.

“What question?” you asked to sway the topic and the attention to something else. Something else that wouldn’t heat up your core or wouldn’t sweat your palms. You didn’t even remember the question.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you blurted out and pushed yourself up. Sirius bit down his lip when you did, and you chose to ignore the rasping sound from his throat. You were sure you were sweating.

“Good night, Black.”

You turned your heels and almost sprinted to the stairs for the girl's dorm, but a resonant tone grasped your attention.

“Wait, you’re not gonna help me?”

You groaned and halted your steps, ready to strangle him. He had a feigned smile on his lips when you turned away, and for a moment, you were eager to leave him there to his own devices.

“You didn’t accept my help when I offered it in the first place.”

“Offer again, come on,” he dragged out the words, signalling that he was indeed too inebriated to handle himself.

Thus, you sighed and strode back, hauling him from his arm. He shifted his weight to you, and you were sure he did it on purpose.

“I’m not carrying you, Sirius, just helping you out,” you reminded him, but to no avail. He simply glanced at you with hollow eyes and back at the stairs of the boy's dorm.

The smell of his cologne enticed you, but you managed to bury the butterflies back into their graves. You attempted to drown the screeches in your mind’s walls that echoed, nudging you to heed the proximity between your bodies. His warm breath hitting your cheek didn’t lend a hand to your endeavours of putting a leash on your racing thoughts.

You headed to the stairs, ambling because of Sirius’s weight. Once you approached them, you groaned, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“Help me out here, I can’t carry you all by myself,” the moment the words left your lips, you felt him pull a part of his heft and lift a step.

You were grateful, but it lasted a second. You felt burned on top of your body as you two climbed the stairs– well, mostly, you climbed both of you.

With every step, you felt your muscles tense up, and your breath deepened. When you diverted your eyes to Sirius, the same warm breath caressed your lips. He was watching you this whole time, listening to the voices you were making.

His Adam's apple moved up and down when your eyes fell to his lips, and your breath hitched when his hand on your shoulder touched your hair.

You had to remind yourself that he was drunk. No matter how much his touch ignited your skin or how much his darkened eyes burned deep in your core with desire, he was drunk. He wouldn’t even remember what was happening at that very moment.

What was happening, again?

Oh, nothing. Sirius had simply leaned in and left only an inch between your lips. You simply exhaled deeply into his lips, giving away how much he was affecting you.

Only a bit more, and your lips would touch, your body would flame up, and your heart would burst with lust.

He was drunk.

You inhaled and stepped back. You didn’t look back at him, not until you arrived at your destination. You were expecting that you would have to carry him inside the room, too, but Sirius pushed himself off you and stood on his legs.

“Cheers, love,” he said playfully, his eyes still lost in somewhere between sobriety and drunkenness. You watched him step back, put his hand to the door handle, and open it with a scowl.

“You could walk?! Why did you make me carry you?!”

He simply grinned before closing the door.

You were agitated for the next two days. Mainly because lessons were hopping on your nerves and because Sirius hadn’t acknowledged that night. The possibility that he had forgotten things was taunting you.

You wouldn’t mind it if you two weren’t almost about to kiss. Neither had you paid attention to him much before nor had he to you. It wouldn’t be much of a fuss for your mind if it were before. But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t simply before, and you were starting to notice too many little things about him.

He would huff at the strand of hair before his eyes when cutting an ingredient. He would poke out the tip of this tongue between his lips when he was too focused on something. He had a mole right under his right eye, but it was too tiny to take notice.

All these new details would fumble your concentration.

Thus, when you two were partnered up in Potion’s class, you were frowning most of the time. The other part of the time, you were confused about what to do next for the damned potion.

“Did you add the sloth brain?” you asked Sirius, much to your dismay.

“No, stir twice clockwise first,” he readied the sloth brain, waiting for you to stir the pot.

You obliged, aware of Sirius’s hovering frame next to you. God, he smelled divine. It made you mad.

He added the last ingredient before taking the spoon from you. Chills ran down your back when he brushed his fingers to yours, and you swore at yourself for acting and feeling like a thirteen-year-old. You despised the way your heart took pace when he sneaked closer to you, and your body refused to step away from him. Thus, you pushed him with your hip.

"Move away.”

“Don’t be bitter, I’m helping you out.”

“I am perfectly capable of making the potion.”

You weren’t. Your mind was so lost that Sirius had to intervene four times during the lesson.

“Capable, my arse,” he hits you with his upper arm, showing you slightly back to regain his previous place. “Did you make this many mistakes on your star chart, too?”

That was when your body froze for a second.

He hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You tried not to divulge any out-of-ordinary emotions.

“My star chart was perfect until you came down and interrupted.”

Sirius shrugged, and you noticed that he also curled his lips downward. You glanced at his hands clutching the ladle and involuntarily gazed at the way he stirred the pot.

“It’s not my fault that I’m distractingly beautiful.”

He was distractingly beautiful. At least for you, he was beautiful enough to delve into your mind and ruffle all your thoughts.

“You were simply distractingly annoying,”

Sirius smirked at you, his eyes narrowing vaguely.

“You didn’t seem annoyed when you were on my lap.”

You felt the heat attract your skin, sweat threatening to emerge if you kept visualising how his hands felt on your back. You weren’t going to let him discern this, however.

“Need I remind you who pulled me there in the first place?”

“Nah, I did,” he took your hand and placed it on the ladle. “Do I need to teach you how to stir, or can you do that yourself?”

“You got tired already?” you mocked him, stirring the potion. As every normal person would, you expected him to deny or mock you back.

“Indeed,” he said instead.

In the next moments, he would lean on the desk and watch you stir, and you would try your best not to ask him the question that was eating you alive.

He would stare at your eyes blink while you watched every ingredient dissolve into the liquid just to avoid Sirius’s impact on you. He would observe every muscle twitching on your face while you were wincing at the screaming voices from the next desk. He would admire your smile while Professor Slughorn said, ‘Good job, kid’ to you.

If only you stopped fighting shy of his presence and heeded, you would notice that his eyes never left you for even a moment.

In the next few weeks, you would engage with Sirius more than any time of the year you had been in this school.

He would come and sit next to you, bothering you while you were reading something. When you shooed him away, he would simply promise to stay quiet and listen to you read.

‘I will be as silent as the grave.’

At some point, you would stutter, and he would ignore it.

He would tease you at every opportunity and grin when you would get mad at him.

‘Stop eating my bloody muffins, Black!’

He would repeat the same thing only to adore the scowl on your face and the wrinkle between your brows, but you would be too irritated to notice it.

He would keep you company at your night studies but mask it as ‘not being able to sleep’.

‘Remus snores too loud.’

You would be too tense to perceive his covetous gaze.

You wouldn’t understand his sudden interest in you, but you secretly cherished this new friendship.

You would feel tingles when he drew stars on your arm during the lessons. You wouldn’t be able to hide your smile when he would ask you to polish his nails black. Your heart would flutter when he sat beside you and listened to you read.

However, there was also something else lingering between the two bodies. A tension that would tense you, fluster your mind, and frazzle your skin with a yearning for his touch.

You would feel it when his breath hit your cheek, his finger brushed your hand, his thigh stroked yours. You would feel it when he whispered at night, hummed at your jeering words, and grinned at your tinted face.

You would feel it when he found you at midnight on Astronomy Tower, too.

You didn’t know how, but he would magically appear and cross your way; your encounters had tripled recently. Especially when you were alone.

At least once a week, you two would stumble upon each other in the Tower and the plain ‘hey’s would turn into deep late-night talks. Sometimes you would tell him how you had the worst day in your life, and he would briefly mention his family.

You were slowly becoming friends.

Yet, a feeling had been clawing your skin every moment he was close, exhorting you to touch his arm, his hand, his leg. A small gesture to the eye, but your heart would clench with a yen for more each time.

The exact feeling was now nagging you as Sirius was talking about his dream tattoo.

“A constellation?”

“How else would people know what star it is?”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. A simple star wouldn’t indicate the name, and he was determined to have Sirius tattooed. It was rather a silly conversation for one in the morning at Astronomy Tower, but recently you had grown to enjoy his voice.

“Where do you want it?” you asked, and he smirked.

You watched Sirius get up from the wall you’ve been leaning on and pull his shirt up. You expected him to point somewhere around his navel, but instead, he clasped the shirt between his teeth and placed his hand on his black pants.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit panicked, but your eyes betrayed you by peeking at his abdomen.

“Not taking my pants off, calm down,” he grinned and pulled the right part of his pants slightly down. You could swear you felt your breath get heavier when his right hip came to view. Everything from the sharp outline of his bone to the thin hair on his skin was boiling something in you, threatening to spill any moment.

“You could've just said to my hip,” you averted your eyes at his face with force.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t see that look on your face,” he said, pushing his clothes back to their rightful places. You feigned a frown when he sat back next to you, your arms touching.

“What look?”

“The one you make whenever I’m too close to you.”

You could feel the embarrassment climbing into your core and the need to lick your lips itching your nerves.

“I don’t make any looks,” you managed to voice, trying to cover your chagrin with insouciance.

Sirius scoffed and leaned in, almost daring you to prove him wrong. And you tried. You tried so hard not to hold your breath, not to pinch your thigh, and not to gulp the apprehension away.

He grabbed your chin when you failed.

You kept your eyes on his grey ones, albeit his hot breath begged you to shut them. You wondered if Sirius could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

“Sure you don’t,” he whispered, and you hated him for it.

Anticipation was hurting you, burning your heart with desire. You were irked that he wasn't doing anything. Teasing you, pushing you to the edge of the cliff, but never letting you see the view. You despised that you were at his mercy.

He pulled away when you leaned in, chuckled at your eagerness. You were about to stop this madness and leave the Tower if it weren't for his hand on your waist that pulled your body close to his.

He was playing with you, testing your limits and self-control, which you clearly lacked. Or else you wouldn't arch your back at his touch and part your lips.

His hands roamed every inch of your body, but lips never touched yours. He let you place your hand on his collar but not on his face to crash your lips to his. You let his hands caress the bare skin of your arms, needing them closer to your heart, but he didn't give you what you wanted.

Your patience was hanging from a thread, ready to snap in a second. You could feel the frustration building up, slave to one mockery to burst into flames. Irritation and anticipation blended together, their colours turning your stomach upside down.

One more smirk from him, and you would snap.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

So you snapped.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

You weren't soft, he wasn't gentle, and the kiss wasn't tender.

It was hungry, zealous, and rapacious.

His lips fought with yours, intoxicating your every sense. Your nails marked his neck, earning rattled breaths that urged you for more. His hands claimed your skin, igniting every inch with lust.

You tugged on his hair when he bit down on your lip, and he pressed his fingers harder on your skin when you slipped your tongue inside.

Your breath mingled with his, and your lips parted only briefly when he pulled you to his lap.

The next second, he was pulling you in, hands on either side of your face. You pushed his hair away from his face, moaning to his lips.

His hands found their way under your clothes, making you arch at the cold of his fingers. Your lips were swollen and red at his point, as well as his.

Yet, he didn't stop. Not until you were both unable to breathe anymore.

When he did stop, your lips missed his lips. You let your lungs take the air they needed while your eyes stared deep into his darkened ones.

Both of you were gasping for air, chests moving up and down in sync.

What would happen next stretched to dozens of moments, hundreds of thoughts and thousands of doubts.

You could stop right here and there. You could pause and talk about it or even not talk about it ever again. You could stay in the dark, refusing to learn what it would be like to feel him, to hear him, to taste him. Or…

All you had to do was to make the first move.

You chose the latter.

Great changes were made to your life since that night.

For example, you had learned how to sneak into the boy's room. You were now passing the Requirements Room more often, and your lips would be somehow swollen every time you were late to class.

It was exciting, the feeling that you could anytime feel a hand on your arm pulling you close, but it was also incredibly messy. You were skipping classes, meals, and even small chats with your friends.

You didn't regret it, though.

His quiet moans against your skin, your nail marks on his back, and the hot breaths lingering between the two bodies were all you needed to recall to abide.

It didn't have a name.

You two were clinging to each other as hard as you could, your lips were begging for more even though there was nothing more to take, and the loving words were being spoken in the heat of a moment. But it didn't have a name.

You never bothered to think about it.

“I’m not sure they will fall for that,” you mumbled drowsily as Sirius was playing with your hair. A little bit more, and you would doze off on his bare chest.

“They will, they’re astonishingly stupid,” he said, and you frowned at how he didn’t trouble himself to keep his voice down. It was the middle of the night, and you were sure the other three boys were asleep–or trying to fall asleep– as you two talked.

“They’re smart enough to guess why you’re inviting them to a Gryffindor party,”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and you felt your head move. “But we’re inviting all the Slytherins, and they’re proud enough to show up.”

“You still won’t tell me what’s the prank?”

He laughed, and you winced at the loud tone.

“You just have fun, leave that part to us–”

“Some of us are trying to sleep, Pads!” James exclaimed, and you stifled a chuckle. Sirius had mentioned that he woke up early every morning.

“It’s only midnight,” he called back, and you squeezed your lips together when another calm but firm voice was heard.

“Sirius, be quiet.”

“Be quiet yourself, Remus!”

But as time passed, you found yourself questioning things, trying to put on a label desperately so you could comprehend. So you could understand why he kissed your lips and called you his friend to others, why he put distance between you in public but got frustrated when he couldn’t feel your skin on his in private, and why he didn’t even touch you in mornings but marked you at nights.

You often found yourself gazing at the way his hair stuck to his temple or the way his fingers stroked the bruises on your hips.

“You’re staring,” he said between rapid breaths as he threw himself beside you. You laughed, drawing a deep breath in.

You didn’t know how to ask this with the least damage, but you also knew if you let this…situation go on, it would only harm you.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Did I add glue to Pete’s shampoo? Yeah, I did.”

You rolled your eyes at him before giving him a disapproving look. Sirius merely grinned and nodded.

“Kidding. Ask away.”

Here goes nothing

“I want to know,” you dig your nails into your palm. “what…this is.”

You were sure you didn’t choose the right words, but how else were supposed to ask it without sounding cheesy? When you peeked at Sirius, he looked frowning, eyes blinking fast enough to let you know his mind was blank.

“What is what?”

“This,” you repeated, this time with more determination. You swung your pointer finger between the distance. “Us. What we are doing.”

“I–” he stopped, staring at you. You felt like his gaze was accusing you of relying on him for all the answers. “You can end it if that’s what you want.”

Your face fell in annoyance. How was that any relevant to what you asked?

“That’s not what I said.”

“I don’t understand what you said then.”

You sat up and started putting your clothes on, your brows furrowed. Sirius watched you propped up on his elbows. You tried not to peek at his hair.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I am not going anywhere until you answer my question,” you tugged your shirt and faced him. “I asked what are we?”

You cringed internally for voicing the words and cursed Sirius for making you. But it had to be done; you weren’t going to be one of those people who would fall in love with the ideas in their heads. You had to know what you meant for him.

Sirius was biting his lips, picking the skin off. You arched a brow at him, still waiting.

“Friends?”

“Friends don’t moan each other’s names.”

Sirius groaned, sitting up. His eyes never left yours, his lips parting and closing in a search for the right words. Oh, how you wanted to dive into his mind and see the mess.

“I don’t know. What do you expect me to say? I’m in this as much as you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. You two never talked about this, but you should’ve. Because right now, your unspoken words were getting in the way.

You looked at his conflicted face, loving the gleam of emotion you didn’t understand but hating the cross ambience you were too familiar with in his eyes. You were a stranger to your feelings for him; you didn’t know what you wanted, not yet, at least. But whatever it was, being away from him wasn’t the one.

Minutes had passed, and you were still silent. It hindered him and hampered the space between you. Somehow, the arm’s distance felt like miles for you.

Sirius cleared his throat.

“Do you– are you asking this because you want to see others, but you feel like you owe me something?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, words building up on the tip of your tongue. So many thoughts and words were waiting to be said, and you felt like you didn’t have enough time for them.

“No–”

“Because you can.”

“What?”

“See others. You can do that if you wish.”

You were staring at him with a glower. He was fine with you seeing someone else. Did this mean he felt nothing of importance for you? Did this mean you should also be fine with him seeing someone else? Well, you weren’t.

“I don’t want to see others,” you said, albeit you were sure something ruder would come out of your mouth. “So this is purely physical? Just sex?”

He stood still for a moment, denying you any answer. You knew he was thinking. You could see it from his eyebrows, hands, and eyes that moved around. You just didn’t know what he was thinking.

You also knew it was way too late for you when you felt a sting in your heart as he spoke.

“Yes. Just sex.”

Nothing changed, and yet you felt like everything had changed.

It was still the same tender touches, soft words, and zealous kisses. It was still the same tingle in your stomach when he would call you pretty while you whimpered with pleasure. It was still the same fire on your skin when his lips would caress every inch. It was still the same peace when he would hold you close afterwards.

However, the sleepless nights, warm tears and red eyes were new. The agony in your soul when he would simply nod at you in the mornings was new. The storm in your heart when he would leave you alone in empty rooms was new. The war in your mind when he fell asleep on your lap was new.

You hated every moment of it.

You started to see him with other girls more, too. Maybe you simply had started to pay attention, but it bothered you. It boiled your blood, tensed your muscles and twisted your tongue.

You wanted to show him it was more for you, but you didn’t know how. Of course, you could simply go up to him and confess your feelings. But where’s the fun in that? You were determined to get a confession from him.

That’s why you repeated everything he did that wounded you.

He simply said ‘hey’ at you in the common room? You didn’t acknowledge him.

He said one of you should leave first so that you don’t attract attention? You were already out of the room.

He was about to swallow a girl whole? You didn’t do that yet. It felt beneath you to betray your feelings like that.

But you did watch him with a drink in your hand, music blasting in your ears and blazing eyes. His hand rested on the girl's back, a smug grin flashing as he lowered his head at her to hear her. You could feel every drop of poison travelling in your veins when he touched her, thorns of jealousy bleeding you.

What a party.

At some point, you even contemplated returning to your room but decided to not let him ruin your night. Thus, you found your friends, and to your luck, they had enough energy to let you loose.

They made you sway your hips to the rhythm, jump in your place, and scream the lyrics from the top of your lungs. You were even drunk enough to feel dizzy, or maybe that was just too much jumping around.

You closed your eyes for a moment to take a break, laughing at yourself. You knew you shouldn't do it, but your hands poured another drink, ready to gulp it down.

“What are you doing alone?” a familiar voice called your attention. The raven black-hair was enough to let you know who it was.

You hated his attire. Black leather jacket on his bare chest with the same coloured pants. You hated his rings. Wrapping around his fingers too elegantly, forcing you to peek. You hated the black nails that you painted and the eyeliner you drew.

“Drinking.”

Sirius nodded and maybe even hummed, but the rock music was too loud to hear. You felt him take your hand and slowly pull you.

“Come dance with me,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist. You hated the butterflies too.

“I don’t want to jump around, my head hurts.”

“Then we’ll slow dance. Come now.”

"To rock music?"

"Sure," he rested your hands on his shoulders, embracing you with his and pushing your bodies together.

"This is ridiculous," you breathed to his lips. Music and your movements didn't align. It made you feel out of place.

"How is your night so far?" he ignored you, and you heard the sarcasm in his question. Would it be bad if you punched him in the eye? But again, you loved his grey eyes.

"Wonderful."

"Mine is too."

You rolled your eyes. He brought his hands to your hips. You could feel the odd looks from the people around. Who danced like this to rock music?

"Yeah, I saw."

He smirked, and you stepped on his foot.

"Saw what?"

"The wonderful in your night," you snarled, and his eyes caught yours escaping to the direction of the girl Sirius was with moments ago.

"Are you jealous?" he asked as he swirled you around.

Maybe you should punch him after all. Hopefully, it would wipe off the smug on his face.

"No.”

“She was needed for the prank. To lure Rosier in.”

“Don’t remember asking.”

“I know. Didn’t want you to think of something else.”

‘Why?’ You wanted to ask but blurted something else out instead.

“We don’t owe each other anything, do we? You can do what you like, and I can do what I like.”

He frowned a bit.

“I thought you didn’t want to see others.”

“Time will tell.”

“I don’t want you to see others.”

“You were the one–”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?” you asked this time. Your heart was beating with the excitement of being so close to what you wanted to hear. “It’s just sex like you said.”

“I made a mistake,” he said and turned the whole conversation into a joke again. “I didn’t know it was possible, either.”

“I will leave if you can’t stay serious for five minutes.”

“Fine, sorry,” he chuckled, but it was forced. His hands were sweaty, and his movements a bit sloppy. He was being extra careful not to step on you. He was aware this was the moment he was supposed to open his heart.

But he didn’t. He didn’t, and you waited.

You waited as he drew a sharp breath in, and you waited as he licked his lips. You waited for the words that never came.

He was pushing you to the edge of a cliff, not letting you see the view. You could give up, let go of whatever this was. You could abandon your feelings and forbid your skin to his touch, and he wouldn’t have the power over your heart anymore.

All you had to do was to make the first move.

“I want this to be more, Sirius,” you said.

His breath stopped for a moment. His hands tightened around your hips. You felt your steps come to a halt, too. Not that you were complaining; it was a weird dance.

“I want you to be more.”

He rested his forehead against yours, a crook of a smile appearing on his lips.

“We’re on the same page then,” he whispered, and you heard it despite the screams and music around you.

You didn’t know why he had such a hard time admitting his feelings or voicing them properly. But you were used to it. He wouldn’t tell you he cared about you, instead, he would dance to rock music with you.

You smiled and started to move ineptly at the head-aching music. He kissed your lips when you did, and you happily returned it. His lips were soft this time, and his kiss tender. Your smile didn’t fade when he pulled away.

“How is your night so far?”

“Wonderful,” you giggled, “Yours?”

"You're the wonderful in my night," he whispered before kissing you again.

i'm a bit insecure about this one, but i'm also extremely tired

thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

and if you care to, buy me a coffee<33

416 notes · View notes

athc0903 · 7 months

Text

Vox x Fem!Strong!SnakeDemon!OC

Hi, I'm a fan of Hazbin Hotel and this is my first fan fic I ever posted online. My english is not very good as it's not my first language, but I hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Pairing: Vox x Strong Female Snake Demon

Type: Third-person POV

Warning: Cussing/foul language, Killing

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First Met

Beware the gaze of the golden eyes of a white serpent,

for within its beauty lies enchantment,

and one may forever be swallowed by its mystic allure.

This poem has been spread across hell for the past five decades, strange enough no one has seen this white serpent before nor have they heard its voice. Some overlord seems like they know something, but they refuse to talk about it. Alastor, the radio demon even made this as a topic in his radio broadcast. But the discussion about this poem slowed down as time passed by, only those who saw the white serpent before still remember its beauty.

* * * *

On a fine morning in hell, the sky is filled with crimson red, every where is filled with death and violence.

Waking up to screams from outside, Vanessa gets up from her bed and stretches her white, body with perfect shape, then slowly walks to the bathroom to get herself ready. After that, she turned on the radio to listen to her favourite radio DJ and also an acquaintance of hers, Alastor. She enjoys listening to his voice, and some topics he’s talking about very much. Vanessa then poured herself a milk and cereal and scrolled through her phone to read the latest news and gossip.

Then there’s a notification pop up mentioning Velvette sent her an invitation. She opens up and has a look: it’s an invitation to her upcoming fashion show, which is today.

As a close friend to one of the overlord, she never shows her face to the public and brag to others about it, because she doesn't want to be the attention and also doesn’t want to take advantage of this status. There are many times Velvette tried to convince her to be on the camera as her model for her clothes, but she refused. Luckily Velvette is “kind” enough to respect her choice, but sometimes both of them will quarrel because of this, as Velvette thinks it is really wasted for not showing her beauty.

Vanessa’s eye twitches when she sees the date is today and then sighs.

As demanding as always… Vanessa thinks to herself and chuckles. Taps on the accept button, and receives a QR code for letting her go through the backdoor to visit Velvette.

Luckily today she’s on leave.

* * * *

In the evening, Vanessa wears her best dress and attends the show. Sure enough, the fashion show is held by one of the mighty Vees, so there are a lot of demons there. Media press taking photos non stop at the invited celebrities who walk on the red carpet, competing with each other who have the best clothing.

Looking at those, Vanessa scoffs and walks to the other way, which is the backdoor of the Vees building. After security scans her QR code, they let her in.

She visited Velvette many times, so she made herself through doors and doors until she arrived at Velvette’s studio. She can hear the yelling voice from Velvette & the runway director.

Vanessa opens the door and sure enough, she sees Velvette yelling at one of her assistants on the whereabouts of one of her models. She stands quietly from a distance to wait for Velvette to finish her yelling, then stands in to call her.

“Hey Velv!” Vanessa walks towards her and waves her hand.

"Nessie! I'm so glad you're here!" Velvette exclaimed as she saw Vanessa, walked to her, gave her a big hug and a few kisses on her cheek.

"How’s the show going on?" Vanessa asked.

“Urghh, don’t even mention it! One of the bitches stood me up! And now I’m lacking one model!” Velvette exclaimed, turning around holding her head.

“That sucks.” Vanessa replied.

Suddenly, Velvette turns back to Vanessa, looks at her from head to toe then lets out a grin.

“DON’T even think about it!” Knowing what she’s thinking, Vanessa sticks out her finger to Velvette, then crosses her arm.

“Come on, Nessie. Just this one time! Please~!” Velvette begged her with a watery eye.

After looking at her watery eyes for quite some time, Vanessa let out a big sigh.

“Alright, just this one time. You know I can’t say no to those eyes.” Vanessa smiled and gently pinched Velvette’s cheek.

“But don’t get your hope high, I haven’t been on the runway for a long time.”

“Oh darling, I know you can do it! Love you so much!” Velvette gives some kisses on Vanessa’s cheek, then commands the make-up artist to put makeup on Vanessa and prepare her dress in a dressing room.

While Vanessa is having her make-up in the dressing room, Velvette continues to direct the other models to walk the runway and change clothes.

"Velvette! I see you're busy!" A TV head man came and asked with a big smile on his flat TV screen.

"Why the fuck are you here? Vox." Velvette stares at him.

Vox shrug his shoulder and said:

"Nothing, just checking out. I assume things are under control?"

Hearing Vox say it with an easy tone, Velvette explodes and yells at his face.

"Under control my ass! Your little friend is fucking around with my top runway model and they are not done yet!"

When she wanted to continue the rant, Vanessa came out from the dressing room wearing a dress that doesn’t fit her so well, but it still looks stunning on her.

“Velv, I’m done here. I think we just need to pin some of the cloth up.” Vanessa calls up to her.

"Oh my gosh, Nessie darling! You look gorgeous! I knew this dress was meant for you!" Velvette's attention immediately caught Vanessa and she couldn't help herself to give Vanessa a big hug. Then using her power to lift up some clothes and pin at the side of the dress, showing some of her thigh, but not too much.

Vox's attention got caught by this beautiful lady too. She is stunning with her fitting dress that suits her white skin and her beautiful green eyes caught his attention too. It's a shame the other side of her face got covered by her hair, but this doesn't ruin her beauty.

As Velvette is explaining to her on the schedule, Vox walks to them.

"Velvette, mind to introduce her?" Vox asked, trying to be polite in front of a lady.

Vanessa was shocked by Vox's appearance as she didn't expect there would be someone here. But she knows who this flat TV demon is.

"Ugh! Fuck off! She's not available right now!" Velvette annoyingly flings her hand to ask Vox to go away.

Vanessa looks at Vox without saying a word, then turns to Velvette to listen to what she says.

Ugh, grabbing the attention from the TV demon is not good...

Although disturbed by Vox's affectionate stare, Vanessa decides to put it aside for a moment while focusing herself to get ready for the runway.

Vox sees that both ladies are busy with their own schedule, so he decides to go back to the front to enjoy the runway show. After all, the night is still long.

* * * *

As the curtains open, Vanessa takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Focusing on the up beating fashion music, ignoring the chit chattering of the crowd.

Back to the front row of seats, Vox eagerly waited for Vanessa to appear on the runway. Suddenly, a tall pink coat guy walks past him, and sits beside Vox with a cigarette in his hand.

“Done fucking with those whores? Val.” Vox asks the man beside him.

“Oh, those puta are just a bunch of mildly entertaining holes. Nothing interesting.” Valentino takes a puff on his cigarette.

“You look like you’re interested in something. Is there something that caught your eye?” After letting out a smoke, Valentino asks with a grin on his face.

“Oh, Val! Since when have I'm interested in looking at these fashion runway shows?” Denying it, Vox takes champagne from the staff and has a sip.

Suddenly the lights went down, all the spotlight focusing on the stage. As the curtain opens, Vanessa walks out from backstage, lifting her head up high, putting her hands on her beautiful hip and doing the catwalk.

At first, no one pays attention to her, until she walks past them. The entire audience were stunned by her beautiful white, fair skin and the beige dress that shines around her and fits nicely to her pretty body. Almost all people can’t stop looking at her in awe, wondering who she is as they have never seen her as a model before.

“Woo, stunning isn’t she!” Even a playboy like Valentino is impressed by her beauty.

“Vox?” He calls for the man beside, surprised by his dumbfounded look, then lets out a grin.

Looks like someone has fallen for her.

Vox totally got attracted by Vanessa’s catwalk, despite he rarely watches any fashion runway show, because is just a bunch of bitches wearing some daring clothes and waiting for demons who have higher status to fuck them. But this… This is truly a beauty! She held her head up high, like an arrogant empress, despised anything or anyone below her.

His eyes can’t stop following her as she walks backstage.

“Are you back now?” Valentino asks him, using his cigarette to lightly knock on Vox’s TV head.

“Ugh! Fuck off!” Vox waves away Valentino’s cigarette.

Valentino laughs and smokes again.

Not long after, all the runway models walked out from the curtain for the final walk. At last, Vanessa came out holding hands with her friend, Velvette. The walkshow officially ended with some speech from Velvette thanking everyone for attending, but did not mention anything about her friend who was standing beside her.

As the party started, Velvette gave her friend a big hug, thanking her again for her help at the runway.

“Come on, Nessie, you should join the party!” Velvette said to her while pulling her hand, inviting her to join the party.

“I’ll pass, Velv. You know I don’t like places like this.” Vanessa said insecurely.

“Relax, I will keep you safe! I got a private corner just for you and me. The party will be fun.” Velvette keeps persuading her.

After a few moments, Vanessa let out a big sigh again and said “Well, I think I could use it for two drinks.”

“Lovely! Let’s go!” Holding her hand out from the backstage.

* * * *

Both of them walked to the after show party venue, the other demons saw the beautiful lady, but they dared not go near her because of Velvette, which Vanessa is really grateful for. Both of them walk to a couch at the corner of the room with a pole in the middle, then grab two champagnes from one of the waiters who’s serving them, and they toast to each other.

“Thanks so much again, babe. I couldn’t imagine how it would be without you!” Velvette thanked Vanessa.

“No problem. Just make sure this is the last time!”

“So, uh, what are you gonna do about the girl who skipped the runway?” Vanessa asks as she spins the champagne glass.

“Well, she’s gonna fucking pay for almost ruin my show!” Velvette lets out an ominous aura as she speaks.

“Uh-huh…”

“Hey, check out this meme…” Velvette shows Vanessa some meme that she found on Voxtagram and laughs together.

On the other hand, Vox is socializing with a demon, but he can’t stop thinking of that beautiful demon girl. Wanting to look for her, but the other demon keeps bugging him and introduces him to other girls. Some models even push themselves to him. Feeling frustrated, but to keep up his image, he still entertained some of them until he roughly glanced through the other side of the room and got fixated by Velvette and Vanessa who’s sitting at the corner, taking selfies.

Vox then hooks Valentino, who’s trying to hook up with a girl by his shoulder and drags him along.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Valentino exclaimed.

“Just shut the fuck up and follow me!” Vox threatened.

Confused, Valentino then saw the direction that both of them were going is towards Velvette and Vanessa, then let out a mischievous grin.

As the two ladies were enjoying themselves with selfies and playing with many silly and goofy filters, they heard Vox’s voice.

“Velvette, congratulations on this successful runway show!” Vox approach both of them, trying to get himself look confident and charming even though he’s nervous as fuck right now.

“Urghh! Didn’t you see we’re having a girl's moment here?” Velvette rolled her eyes.

“Aww, don’t leave us behind.” Valentino chuckles.

“Pfft, talk to someone who almost ruined my show.” Velvette rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“Come on now, baby girl, I’ll give some of my contract souls to make it up for you.” Valentino helps himself by sitting next to Velvette and exhaling the smoke.

“That’s more like it.”

While Valentino is distracting Velvette from Vanessa, this gives Vox a chance to speak with her personally. Vanessa takes out a cigarette from her pocket and puts it in her mouth. Suddenly, a spark ignites at the tip of the cigarette with a love shape.

“Let me do that for you, my dear.” Vox said to the dumbfounded girl, who turned to him.

“Erm, thanks.” Feeling awkward, Vanessa thanked him.

“What’s your name?” Vox asked.

“Vanessa. It’s nice to meet you in person, Mr. Vox.” Vanessa gave her name out of courtesy.

“Please, just Vox.” Vox gently grabs her hand and lands a kiss at the back of her hand, and also gives an affectionate stare.

Vanessa is totally dumbfounded by his action and doesn't know what and how to react. Of course she knows what Vox is trying to hint at, but she never thought that the big man himself would be so direct to her.

“O…kay, if that’s what you want.” Vanessa pulls her hand away from Vox awkwardly, then takes a deep breath on the cigarette and breathes out.

Shit, she’s so hot when she smokes!

“So, what’s your deal with Velvette?” Vox leans his back against the couch.

Notice that Vox is trying to hit on Vanessa, she quickly interrupts both of them by hooking Vanessa close to her.

“We go way back! She’s the first demon I met in hell. Ever since then, we have been besties!” As Velvette speaks, she squeezes Vanessa in her arm.

“Since she’s a “bestie” of yours, how come I never saw her in the building? I wouldn’t miss such a beauty.” Valentino asks.

“Well, most of the time, we will hang out at my place. So I seldom step foot to Velvette’s place.” Vanessa explained.

And also because it is the mighty Vee’s place. Aware that her own beauty will attract more unwanted attention, she doesn't want to make a scene.

“I see. Well, it will be such a waste to hide your beauty, Vanessa. I can make you famous within 1 minute after you’re on my talk show. It would be faster if you show the other face of yours.” Vox gently touches Vanessa’s face, trying to lift up the hair that’s covering one of her eyes.

Realizing what he is trying to do, Vanessa backs up from him and grabs his hand firmly.

“Don’t you fucking lift my hair up!” Vanessa lets out a stern warning with her round pupils turning from round to straight line, some scales slowly forming around her eyes.

Vox is totally dumbfounded by her stern action, all he wanted to do is to see what’s underneath her hair. He then released himself from her grip.

“My apologies, I crossed over.” Vox apologies to her.

“Apologies accepted, and I appreciate your offer very much, but I’m comfortable with what I have now.” Vanessa smiles and turns down his offer.

“Hah! You hit the jackpot if she’s on screen.” Velvette scoffs.

“Velv, you know I don’t like being attention.” Vanessa laughs and lightly pinch her cheeks with her back facing Vox.

“Fuck off.” Velvette moves her cheek away from Vanessa and drinks a shot.

Vox stares at Velvette, hinting her to stop interrupting him and Vanessa. But Velvette raises her eyebrow, with her right hand holding a glass, her left hand secretly gives him a middle finger.

Fuck no she’s gonna let Vox go near to Vanessa! She knows Vox too well for being a jerk and making use of his hypnosis power. Once he gets to know Vanessa more and gets her soul, everything will go down afterwards. Not that she doesn't trust Vanessa, she couldn’t bear to see her bestie falling for a guy like him and failing miserably in the end, then living in despair and pain.

Vox eyes twitch, ignoring Velvette’s glare, he continues to have a chat with Vanessa. Although Valentino is trying to distract Velvette to keep interrupting Vox, sometimes it doesn’t work out. She will budge into the conversation and distract Vanessa away from him.

Of course Vanessa knows what the other two Vees are trying to do and Velvette is protecting her from Vox, but she can’t help but admit that Vox is a charmer, good talker and also a good listener. Sometimes she will get carried away by him, but once she realizes Vox is trying to use his hypnosis power on her, she will either pretend to take a sip on the champagne to avoid his gaze or talk to Velvette.

After a few hours of hanging out with the Vees, Vanessa puts on her long coat and says: “Welp, I should get going now.”

“Leaving so soon? The party just started.” A slight disappointment ran through Vox’s face.

“Aww, why don’t you stay a little longer? You can stay at Velvette’s place.” Valentino says.

“It’s ok, I have a work shift tomorrow morning.” Vanessa answers Valentino with a smile, putting her phone in her messenger bag. Velvette also stands up, wanting to court her to exit.

“Let me escort you home.” Vox stands up and takes out his phone from his pocket, wanting to call his driver.

“Come on! She’s not the weak woman you think she is!” Velvette crossed her arm, rolling her eyes to the back.

“There’s no need to do this, Vox. I will be fine walking home.” Vanessa politely refused him.

They later bid each other farewell, then Velvette sent her to the exit door.

After both ladies walk away, Vox sits down on the couch looking frustrated, gulping in a bottle of whiskey like it was water.

“Looks like your chiquita is not interested in you.” Valentino says it with a big grin after puffing out his smoke.

“Shut the fuck up, Val!” Vox curses at him.

“That bitch thinks she can run away from me huh? I’ll show her who’s really in charge!” After drinking up his bottle of whiskey, he storms away.

Velvette returned to her seat after sending Vanessa off, and she saw Vox storming away.

“The fuck is wrong with him?”

“Well, your little amiga gives him a cold shoulder, so he’s pissed and definitely up for no good.” Valentino answered.

“Hah! Good luck dealing with Nessie! She’s not as weak as you guys think.” Velvette scoffs and drinks her champagne and turns to Valentino with a grin.

“Why do you think she can survive in hell for almost five decades without regenerating once?”

Valentino was shocked at Velvette’s statement. For a sinner who is not an overlord, it’s very rare for them to not regenerate even once, when they enter this shitty hell. From the moment he saw Vanessa, he knew immediately this girl is too prideful to become one of his girls, also there’s something more about her, especially the thing that she tries to hide under hair.

This is going to be interesting!

* * * *

Vanessa takes her time walking back to her home, enjoying the night city scene around her. Blasting music from the club and the subtle jazz music coming from another pub, she enjoys every moment of walking back home, makes her relax and to unwind. Except for the screaming sound from some random demons killing each other. But without her realizing, some demon gangsters already set eyes on her, giving each other hints, and they move their way to follow her. Not only that, the CCTV around her turns to follow her footsteps as she’s walking.

When Vanessa walks into an alley, the demons that follow her are so happy that they cornered her, because that alley is a dead end. There’s no way a weak woman like her can get away from ten of them. They can’t wait to have a taste of her.

Vanessa stops when she reaches the dead end with no other demons, except for the ten demons who follow her.

“There’s no way to run, bitch!” One of the demons grin as he speaks.

“Now be a good girl and…” Before the other demon can finish his word, Vanessa lets out a big sigh.

“Here I thought I could have a peaceful night on my way home…” She tilted her head looking at the night sky.

“Without having blood stains on me.” Then she murmured at this sentence.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You think you can get away from us?”

Right after finishing his sentence, he immediately got penetrated by a huge object. It was so fast that the others couldn’t catch a glimpse of what it was, until that demon got yanked to Vanessa’s direction and got lifted high, only they realized what it was.

It’s a huge white snake tail coming out from Vanessa’s sacrum, penetrating through the abdomen of that demon, with blood dripping from his wound. The other demons were stunned by this situation and confused, it all happened so fast they couldn’t have time to process.

“To answer your question there…” Vanessa speaks and they move their gaze to her.

“I can get away from all of you.” She answers with a gentle smile, and some scales slowly forming around her eyes. Together with the painful moaning of the other impaled demons, it’s very peculiar and contrasting from her gentle smile.

She then controls the tail to toss the demon away, hitting the walls hard, leaving a huge hole.

“But you’ll need to pay the price.”

* * * *

Vox stormed into his rooms, filled with various sizes of screens and monitors, displaying each and every corner of the Pentagram city from CCTV. He sits down on his chair and starts to track Vanessa’s whereabouts. He is the overlord and the TV demon, and has eyes everywhere. No one can run away from him!

Finally he tracked down Vanessa walking on the street alone, then controlled the CCTV around her to see where she was going. Then he saw ten demons following her, and got shocked when they walked into an alley with a dead end, where there is no CCTV in there.

Don’t they dare fucking touch her! She’s mine!

Got furious, he quickly goes into the camera system in his room and teleports to the nearest CCTV from the alley, then briskly walks there. He thought that he would see the worst, but was stunned by what he saw.

Vanessa’s tail choke on one of the demons, then forcefully make him kneel down on his knee and look down on him in the eyes.

“You look like a nice guy, guess I’ll make your death easier than your other friends.” Vanessa said.

“Please! I’ll give you my soul! Just don’t kill me!” The demon pleaded with tears.

“Shhh!” Vanessa put her finger to her lips. Then kneel down in front of him, and gently hold his sobbing face.

“Just relax, OK? It will be quick.” Vanessa comforts him and lifts her hair that covers her eyes, showing a bright golden colour snake pupil and looks him in the eye. As soon as the demon gazes into her golden eye, his eyes go blank and his body relaxes, then his breathing stops.

Seeing that the demon is gone for good, Vanessa let go of his lifeless body and let down her hair to cover back. She then takes out a cigarette and lit it up.

Blood splatter everywhere, dismembered bodies of some demons, demons with big holes in their abdomen, walls with huge holes, a huge white tail coming out from her sacrum, more importantly one of the demons died when he looked her into her hidden eyes. All this happens right in front of Vox’s eyes, he then suddenly remembers a poem from Zestial decades ago: An enigma and powerful demon arises from this realm, who is not interested in both soul trading and becoming an overlord.

Looketh not into the gilded eyes of white serpent, for thou shalt ensnared by its beauty, and thy breath may forsake for eternity.

This is what Zestial and the people warned him about.

He can’t help himself by letting out a huge grin of amusement, he never thought the mysterious powerful demon is right beside him and is a close friend with one of his business partners. He then moved himself to the alley.

“I must say I’m impressed!” Vox claps his hand, approaching her.

Vanessa turns to him with a cold expression.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I was worried about you, my dear. I saw these pricks following you into an alley, so I came to have a look.” Vox looks at his nail and puts both hands on his back.

“Why don’t you just say you’re stalking me?” Vanessa smirks and rolls her eyes, then keeps her tail back in her body.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Vox asked.

“Please, I know I am no match for an overlord like you. And I don’t think you overlords are chatterboxes.” Vanessa tidies up her attire and says.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t keep this as a secret?” Vox then put his hand on his hip and asked.

Vanessa picks up her bag on the ground and walks toward him. When she’s in front of him, she grabs the lapel of his coat and yanks it to her, forcing Vox to lower down his body and look into her scowling golden eyes.

Feeling dizzy at first, then a sudden pain struck his head, making him tilt back his body, but he couldn’t tilt back much because of Vanessa’s grip.

“I have killed pricks and bitches for this attitude you’re giving me, you’re lucky you are one of Velv’s important business partners! So, I’m asking you ONE. MORE. TIME!” Vanessa growls at him, then takes a puff of her cigarette, and exhales hard, trying to calm herself down.

“Will you keep this a secret just like the others do?” Vanessa gave him a smile and asked gently, but still grabbed his coat.

The pain in Vox's head conquered him so bad, he couldn’t utter a word nor process what’s happening. In the end, he could only lightly nod his head to her words.

“Good boy.” As she “praises” him, she held his chin, and lightly rubbed her thumb against his TV screen. Then she pushes him away, distancing herself from him, covering back her golden eyes.

As soon as he leaves Vanessa’s gaze, the pain subside, leaving him confused and panting. He then looked in Vanessa’s direction, he saw an aura of a huge white snake coming out from her back, letting out its tongue and hissing at him. Although she’s casually smoking her cigarette, he knows that she hasn't let her guard down, giving him a warning. That’s her true form! He fully understood why no one talks about her for the past five decades, and it remains as a rumour or a myth. It’s because anyone who knows about this can never speak about it anymore.

He was furious, with sparks sparkling on his antenna and his left eye turning spiral, ready to teach this bitch a lesson. No one has ever disrespect and challenged him like this, other than that smiling freak! But as soon as he set eyes on her beautiful face…

FUCK! He is so hard right now!

Instead of being mad, he grins and stands straight, giving a small pat on his crumpled coat. He then opened up his arm and shrugged his shoulders.

“Alright, you have my word.”

“Thank you.” She then walked past him.

Suddenly, she got yanked by a strong grip and hit on a broad chest. Before she knew it, she saw an inverted wifi signal icon in front of her, then her face got lifted up by blue claws to meet Vox’s affectionate gaze.

“But surely I will get something in return for helping you to keep this as a secret, won’t I?” With his hand on her waist, holding her closer to him, the static on his left eyes activated, trying to hypnotize her into agreeing with what he said. He knows his hypnotism will fail, but he just wanted to tease her, and to have a closer look at her beautiful face.

Vanessa stuns for a moment, then she smirks and lightly pushes herself away from him.

“Your hypnotization won’t work on me.” She laughs.

“As a matter of fact, this is NOT a request, it’s a COMMAND.” Then narrow her eyes to give him another warning.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to head back home now. I have a work shift tomorrow morning.” She turns around and walks away, leaving Vox behind.

Vox watches her leave with a huge grin. He can’t help but start to think about the next step of getting closer to her and to know more of her past life. Most important thing is to make her his.

Oh, he can’t wait to let this bitch moan under him and begging for more of him!

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin velvette #hazbin headcanons #x oc #vox x ocfem #fem oc #vox #vox x oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #headcanon #hazbin vees #hazbin hotel velvette #valentino #the vees #hazbin hotel x oc #hazbin hotel x reader

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the-uwu-part-of-jazz · 1 year

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Could Aziraphale and Crowley become humans after S3? (Debunking)

I’ve seen some people saying that Aziraphale and Crowley could become humans after S3 and I just wanted to write all my thoughts in a post to clearly express why I don’t think this could be the case.

Beware, this is going to be a long post and English isn’t my first language. I hope it makes sense at the end, pardon if I ramble a bit…

So, putting aside the fact that this could be really heartbreaking for us cause they would only have like 40ish more years to be together, it would also make us wonder what would happen to them after their mortal lives end. And that’s when my head started working on 3 possible scenarios, which I’m gonna call:

Both to heaven

One to hell

No heaven, nor hell

Both to heaven

In this scenario, we would get an Aziraphale and Crowley being judged as any human would do after their time on earth is done, and this being the cutest and gentlest scenario of the 3 means both of them would get to go to heaven or some sort of paradise to spend the rest of existence together, which would certainly defeat the point of becoming human in the first place.

What would be the point of turning them mortal if their immortal souls will still be together after all? Knowing that death would mean nothing more for them than any other discorporation they’ve experienced before just to never go back to earth again.

The only possible explanation I can think of for this to happen is if God intended for them to experience love in all their expressions. First as a forbidden love by being hereditary enemies for centuries, then as a sinful and mundane way of loving to still be amazed by what humans can do, to finally live the purest expression of love for as long as She intends.

However, at this point in time, I firmly believe that something would happen during S3 that will clearly state that neither Aziraphale nor Crowley would care at all about heaven (therefore some sort of paradise) to end up as humans to begin with, which granting them the opportunity for both to end up in the place that they deliberately left would contradict all purpose of S3.

----------

One to hell

Just like the first scenario, we would get our precious Aziraphale and Crowley being judged at the end of their time on earth, but this time we would, as fans, experience hell or even worse than that cause we would see how they get separated for eternity by one being on heaven and the other being punished in hell (which we all know it would be Crowley).

So, I firmly believe Neil Gaiman would have to hate us for this scenario to happen, but when I say hate I mean HATE, like he would want us to suffer and traumatize us to the point of questioning whether life is worth something anymore (Maybe I’m overreacting but seriously !!!)

Just imagine, one of our babies being tortured in unimaginable ways for hundreds and hundreds of years without end just to spend half a century with the other... An eternity of suffering for a blink of happiness.

But like I said, Neil would want to see us suffer for this to happen and I sincerely think he loves us so there’s no need to keep expanding on this scenario when we all know it will just shatter us, but you get my point, right?

There is no need to be that harsh at the end of Good Omens, there is no reason other than spite or wanting to punish the fandom without rhyme or reason. This only leaves us with one other scenario…

----------

No heaven, nor hell

Let’s suppose something may happen (maybe a war) during S3 that could lead to the fall of heaven and hell altogether. Leaving us a world where humans no longer have a life after death, making us believe that after whatever time they might get as humans that would be it.

No more Crowley and the Bentley, no more Aziraphale and the bookshop. Just like that, as if they never existed in the first place. Everything that they are would be gone and there wouldn’t be many people to remember them or what they did for humanity.

And this, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary folks, is what in my humble opinion could be the most probable way of ending Good Omens IF they wanted to make Aziraphale and Crowley humans. However, it’s still not probable at all!

I genuinely doubt a series like Good Omens that from the beginning has managed like real all bases of religion (or some parts of it) will at the end turn into its complete opposite, its own antithesis in regards to the religious part. (Do I make sense?) If this particular scenario ends up being the true ending, I will for sure kneel before Neil Gaiman and applaud his braveness for doing something that bold.

Now, as I was writing this, it occurred to me that maybe not all of humanity would be affected by not having an afterlife and there could be a fourth hidden scenario where Aziraphale and Crowley were the only ones who quit their “eternal souls”. But again, even if they were the only ones to not have an afterlife, I believe Neil really wants us to have some sort of happier and not-so-open ending.

Let’s be honest, presuming that if Aziraphale and Crowley end up as humans, this wouldn’t be shown until the last 10-15 minutes of the last episode because that is the greatest plot twist. Hence, making it impossible to explain what would happen to them at the end of their lives and leaving us in an infinite loop of wondering which of all these scenarios would be the right one. We would lose our minds!! And as I said earlier, even if Neil doesn't love us as fans, he loves his characters enough for him to wrap their story as much as possible, therefore giving us a much cleaner ending than the mess all this could be.

TL;DR: Making Crowley and Aziraphale humans is such a mess and Neil loves them so much that he wouldn't let them go through all of that.

Anyway, tell me what y’all think if you made it this far, I would really like to see other’s views regarding this plot or if I inspired you enough to write a fanfic please let me know, I would gladly read them!

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steflionheart · 2 years

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who said I knew what I was doin'?! O.o

Heya! My name's Stef and here's some info about me :3

find all links to my other social media accounts on my carrd (✧u✧)

general info

writer (sfw ✔ + nsfw 🔞) -> this should go without saying but beware of nfsw + pls dni if you're a minor or if it's not your cup-o-tea!

ger/eng/pt

she/her

lvl 30+

I sometimes also do art but like... once in a blue moon (icon is my own creation)

certified overthinker™️

depressed + stressed + constantly tired

find my ramblings, rantings, headcanons, brainfarts, and other chaotic activities on my side acct @stef-rambles

find easier and faster access as well as the Ao3 links to all my fics on my fic archive acct @steflionheart-fic-archive

what I enjoy

gaming

manga + manhwa

anime

cars

lots of other good and nerdy stuff

>>>>>>>>>>>> •• ♦ •• <<<<<<<<<<<<

I'm a multifaceted and therefore very jumpy person, so I can switch from one thing to the next in the blink of an eye.

So basically, you're entering a world of chaos! You've been warned xD

I'm into a loooot of different fandoms, a multishipper, often fall head over heels for rarepairs and/or controversial ships, and my oc's are on my mind 24/7, so I might also shove them into your faces whenever a brainfart comes up

(つ >ω●)つ

All in all, I'm a very chill person who doesn't judge, offers a safe space, and loves to talk about my fav ships, ideas, and headcanons. So, don't hesitate to reach out, I'd love to have a chat!

I love to indulge in nice things, to simply look at beautiful art, read interesting quotes, headcanons, fics, and all the stuff that makes my brain go

o(^∀^o) \(^∀^)/ (o^∀^)o

>>>>>>>>>>>> •• ♦ •• <<<<<<<<<<<<

Please keep in mind:

English isn't my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

I won't accept any mean or disrespectful behavior nor discourse and will block if needed.

Same goes for you though; if you don't like anything I share or reblog, please simply leave again and feel free to block me (-‿◦)v

We are switches in this house! Which means; I mostly don't have preferences in this topic. It's more fun to switch things up if you ask me ;)

#introduction #this is me #steflionheart

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best-wishes · 7 months

Text

Don’t Look Back Part 6 - Nth+1 Iteration

Beware, it’s part 6, to find the beginning of the story, it’s here

CW: Major Character Death, doubting reality, suicide of an immortal character

---

This time, Hob decided that they were going to travel, never settling in one place for long. They had already in one of their lives, travelling and trading their way further and further east. If he was going to be haunted by the dark star-eyed man, he was going to show him how rich life could be and why Hob would never get tired of it.

The first, and most arduous part was convincing Eleanor to abandon everything she had ever known. Hob's wife was not the most sheltered, nor the last adventurous, but it was a leap into the unknown that was always delicate, and had already blown up spectacularly in Hob's face.

This time, persuading her was unusually easy. Not even a year of preparation later, they were on the road, travelling through France with their load of English wares. They would trade them off for typically French stuff, that they would in turn exchange in Italy. Robyn was taking to French as quickly as he was taking to English, hearing both languages equally often. Soon they would move south and they would have to switch to Provençal, that Hob hoped he would remember well enough from the life they had lived in Marseille.

For the time being, they were in Paris. The city was as bustling as ever, crowded and full of smells under the sun of spring. Being there always sent Hob back to his life as a printer. Hob wondered how Jean and Valère were faring, in the absence of his little printing workshop. They were likely up to no good, but Hob hoped they would turn out right, in the end. They were good lads with bad luck.

It was only natural for Hob to head toward the familiar market of La Halle for the trade of what they had bought from England. Though no one knew Hob here and now, Hob remembered most of the prominent traders, their habits and their business. He had no difficulty finding the right set of buyers. Bertrand was the one Hob wanted to sell most of his goods too, as he would give a fair price. Hob was lucky again, Bertrand was there, and ready to buy from a stranger after inspecting the load. He would come back a few hours later with a cart.

Around one hour after Bertrand, Hob crossed path with another merchant that he used to know in his other life, though merchant was a generous assessment. Denis was more of a scammer, and he'd conned Hob himself once. Now was a good time to pay him back in spades.

"Let's go, we've got no time to spare!" Hob urged Eleanor.

After negotiating with Denis, Hob had hurried his preparations to be ready to leave as soon as the deal with Bertrand was concluded.

"What is the hurry? I thought we were going to spend the night in Paris."

"I want to be out of the city as soon as possible, we'll spend the night in one of the hamlets along the Bièvre."

Later, as the sun was setting and they were arriving to the group of houses and farms around the manor of Cachan. Hob remembered a welcoming tavern there, where they would sleep for the night.

It was only when Hob paid the innkeeper that Eleanor, seeing the amount of coin in Hob's purse, pieced everything together. She was wise enough to wait for them to be alone in their room to broach the subjects.

As soon as the door closed, she turned toward him, hands on her hips.

"Robert Gadlen, have you or have you not sold our goods twice in Paris?"

Hob chuckled. He would never grow tired of his wife's quick mind.

"Do you know me so well?"

"I thought I did, but the Robert Gadlen I knew was not a scoundrel!"

"That's entirely Hob Gadling, I confess. Though it could be a bit of the Hobgoblin, too. In one of my lives, I was abducted by the Fae, and I spend decades in Faerie being the Hobgoblin. It was my sacred duty to play tricks like this one. I guess you can take Hob out of Faerie, but you can never totally take the Fae from Hob."

Eleanor refused to believe it. Time travel was one thing, the realm of the Fae was another. No matter how many details Hob provided about his life in Faerie, she would not fall for it, she said. It devolved to a game between them, Hob slipping a lie inside every story he told about his many past lives, and Eleanor trying to guess the truth.

Fortunately, they were not caught for Hob's scam in Paris. It was likely that no one believed Denis when he denounced Hob, or those who did thought it served him right. The weather kept being perfect for their travels, and their business flourishing. It made Hob nervous. He was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had travelled enough during his many lives to know such luck was not natural, and he was expecting to pay for it sooner or later.

---

Dream tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne, waiting for the summoned Nightmare to appear. Jessamy was perched on the top of the seat, grooming her feathers. The three stained glass panels behind the throne were filled with images of two humans, Hob Gadling, eternally young and charming, and his wife, Eleanor Gadlen. The mesmerising shape of Gault, the shape shifter, was standing between them.

Dream's plan was on schedule. If he played his cards right, Hob would never restart the loop again, and the universe could escape running his circle for eternity. Except that he felt doubt stirring in Hob Gadling's psyche, doubt that needed to be squashed immediately.

Gault entered the room, the lights in her body shining in the shadows of the hall. She knelt on one knee, and waited.

"I have been following your work with Hob Gadling from the start, Gault. I feel, and Lucienne agrees with me, that you are not good enough to fool him. He's doubting you."

"My Lord, he had never given me any reason to think so. He behaves with me as a husband with his wife. I can detect no deception."

"Would you doubt my word? Hob Gadling is an adept trickster. He might be fooling you, but he is not fooling me."

"Yes, my Lord. I will endeavour to do better. Would you have any advice for me? You know him better than anyone."

"Go and see Lucienne, she shall give you insights on the roots of Gadling's suspicions. Study his wife. Unlike the nightmares you are used to create, this dream is supposed to feel real. You should strive to emulate the real Eleanor Gadlen, not the idealised image Hob Gadling wished his wife was."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Go, Gault, and do your best. The fate of the world rests upon your shoulders."

---

In the end, it was Eleanor that tipped Hob off. His wife had always been strong willed and obstinate. She was way more intelligent than Hob was, and she knew it. In their first life together, Hob often let her taking the decisions for them both, though custom would have dictated the opposite.

In most subsequent lives, though, Hob had to impose some decisions because he knew the future. It was always difficult for Eleanor to be relegated to the role of follower, to feel like a child again relative to her husband's vast experience of the world. He knew best, and she was wise enough to admit it, but she resented him.

In this life, though, she followed him easily. In any other life, Hob double crossing Denis without consulting her would have earned him an earful, and weeks of acerbic criticism. Yet, she had let it slide. After this first episode, Hob was more attentive to her mood. She was more patient than she used to. She was more sedate, too, content with their lot instead of striving for more.

Little by little, Hob started doubting.

Even with centuries of times, and Hob estimated he had only decades of marriage with Eleanor, one could never fully know another. In every life, Hob had learnt more about Eleanor, new things he ignored, pieces of her that he had never had the occasions of discovering. As the repeats followed one after another, he had come to cherish these titbits of knowledge, these new parts of his wife to love.

The imposter, as Hob was increasingly thinking about her, never told Hob anything he hadn't already known. She was never surprising.

Hob planned in advance, to reproduce situations that had occurred in one of their previous lives. Where the real Eleanor had always behaved differently from one life to the next, this false Eleanor parroted the real one. This was a play, like one of Will Shakespeare, a game of deception and false pretence. Was it a comedy, or a tragedy? That was the question. Hob didn't trust fate to be fun, except in the darkest irony. The thought of Will brought with it the memories of Robin Goodfellow, tricking Hob to take his place as Eleanor's husband. He'd said Eleanor had known, then. Was he living the same fate, but reversed? When Hob had lived in Faerie, he had heard much about the Changelings, simulacra they left instead of a kidnapped human. Had Hob's dark patron made a deal with someone from the Court, and kidnapped Hob's wife in the hope of tricking him? The Changeling would not die as Eleanor did every time, and Hob would believe he had tricked fate at last.

Once this idea had entered his mind, it never left it. Hob kept noticing more and more details revealing his wife to be an imposter. Yet, doubt was still lingering. Was he playing tricks on himself? Was he going mad from the endless repeat of time?

Surprisingly, the one who finally convinced Hob was his dark patron.

He visited one night that was not different from any other, in the darkest hour. Hob woke up suddenly and he was there, sitting on an armchair like he owned the little room of the inn where Hob and Eleanor were sleeping. He was looking at Hob pensively, his hands joined in front of his mouth.

"Hob Gadling."

"What do you want?"

The silence stretched between them. Hob glanced at Eleanor, who was still soundly asleep.

"She will not wake up unless I allow her. I have come to tell you that I have bargained with my sister Death for your family's life."

It left Hob gobsmacked. His sister Death? Who was he then? Hob had always believed him to be Death, or at least a representative of Death.

"I would have expected some gratitude."

"I am. Grateful. I don't know how I could thank you for such a gift. I'm sorry I'm left speechless."

"I expect you to desist from time traveling again. I have ensured you would not need it."

"Sure. Great. I promise." Hob stuttered.

"Good. I hope I shall never see you again. Enjoy your eternal life."

And he was gone. Hob looked at the empty chair. Then a chuckle escaped him. Once the laugh had begun, there was no stopping it. The chuckle turned into an irresistible laugh, until Hob was crying with laughter.

Only then the laughter turned into sobbing.

It was too good to be true, so it was all a lie.

---

After Hob was wholly convinced he was living in a lie, his and his family's course shifted toward England.

If Hob's current wife was a Changeling or something of the sort, the Fae would be the ones to know and understand it. There was one point in time when Hob was certain the door to Faerie would be open: for the first representation of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

As always in this life of deceit, luck was on their side and the travel was fast and eventless. No bad weather hindered them, no epidemics nor accident slowed them down. At the end of spring 1593, they were back to where they had started.

They avoided London where the plague was striking again, to follow the steps of Lord Strange's Men.

That was how Hob found himself sneaking around the countryside, lying in wait in the meadow for the Court of Faerie to enter this plane. He watched as the giant on the hill opened the portal to Faerie.

Seeing them all again sent Hob to his life as the Hobgoblin. Auberon and Titania, unbearably perfect and unnaturally beautiful, led the assembly. The Fae, large or small, fair or monstrous, followed them disorderly through the gate. Hob saw here and there a familiar face, people he had tricked or pranked during his time as the Hobgoblin. Puck himself fooled around, playing and dancing in the crowd, overjoyed at being on Earth again.

Seeing them all again, in this world left Hob dumbstruck. The oppressive perfection of Faerie had felt the same as the supernatural string of luck he had in this life. It was the mark of something profoundly disturbing, a distortion of the reality of the universe that unsettled his mind. Hob had felt it, and it had reminded him of his days as the Hobgoblin. He'd felt compelled to play tricks, to tempt the fate against this perfection.

He waited for the play to begin before moving. From afar, he watched as the familiar silhouettes of the actors got ready. This time, he was not there to play Robin Goodfellow on stage. He wondered if his replacement would be as unlucky as he had been. Maybe not, given Hob's given name, so close to Hobgoblin already, had eased the transfer.

He scanned the crowd as the play began. He knew Nuala should be there, as they had talked about the play before. It took him more than a few tried before he noticed her, or rather before he noticed her brother Cluracan. Both siblings were hidden behind glamour charms, and Hob was more familiar with Cluracan's than with Nuala's. She never liked the charms, and dropped them around Hob.

The presence of Nuala's brother was a problem Hob did not know how to tackle. The only thing Hob knew about him, from his many complaints from his sister, was his habit of seducing everyone and falling into bed with them. Hob was only one man, and he could not distract Cluracan and talk to Nuala all at once.

Fortunately, an opportunity presented itself with the intermission. Lured by the smell of fresh humans, Cluracan mingled with the actors immediately, touching a wrist here and a hip there. Leaving his sister on her own.

Hob rose from his hiding, and nonchalantly joined the crowd, passing as part of the troupe. He approached the Fae from behind, seeing her seething as she observed her brother seducing his way through the humans.

"Hello, Nuala."

She startled. He sat next to her in the grass, crossing his ankles and leaning back on his hands.

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

He smiled.

"You don't know me, but I know you. Or at least, I knew a version of you, in another version of this universe."

Faerie was not stricto sensu in the flow of time, and the Fae were familiar with nonlinear timelines. In his life as the Hobgoblin, Hob had confessed to Nuala about his time travels and she had accepted it easily. She accepted it as readily this time when Hob explained his story.

"It must be lonely." she said at the end of his tale.

"Why?"

"Because of this," she explained as she showed him and herself. "You know me, but I know nothing of you. The Nuala who was your friend, all the memories you shared with her, they don't exist here. Your friend is dead, I'm just a stranger who looks like her."

"You're still her though, even if you can't remember."

"Yes, but you're not the man she befriended either. With every life, you get farther and farther, as you keep advancing in time and we're all stuck in the same state."

"Eleanor told me something like that, in my last life. She felt like I wasn't seeing her, only the ghosts of the past Eleanor. And yet, I keep building new lives with her, and loving as many of her as I meet. At least, until this one."

"Why not this one?"

"This one is fake. I don't know exactly how, or why, but I don't recognise her. That's actually why I was looking for you. I hoped you could tell me what was wrong, with your magic Fae eyes."

Nuala laughed. The other her had done her best to explain Fae magic when Hob was the Hobgoblin. He'd been stubbornly impervious to any of it.

"Is this mysterious false wife around?"

"Well, no, I didn't take her here. It would have been hell to explain, all of Faerie suddenly appearing on the hill and me needing to talk to one of them. I hoped you could drop by, sometime soon? I invite you to my home, you're always welcome."

Nuala smiled and accepted the hand he was extending to her.

Hob realised she was right. He had missed her, and he was still missing her.

---

The days Hob spent waiting for Nuala's visit seemed to stretch into infinity.

Now that he and his family were back in England, they had gone home. The manor was dusty but well preserved after only a few years of absence. A maid from Eleanor's parents’ estate had come to help them settle for the time it took to recruit a new one. Eleanor's parents, of course, were overjoyed at having their daughter and grandson back.

For Hob, though, the return was unbearable. In the familiar setting of their home, it was painfully obvious that the Eleanor Hob was married to was a fraud. She kept parroting and mimicking Hob's true wife, like some twisted déjà vu that was always uncannily wrong. The dissonance was unsettling, and Hob was running out of patience as he waited for Nuala. The imposter was placating, and in turn it was driving Hob even madder. The real Eleanor would have snapped, yelled at him and threatened to leave.

Fortunately, Eleanor and Robyn were at her parents when Nuala showed up at the door.

"Hello, Hob. I am sorry that I am so late, I had some trouble finding you."

"Be welcome, my friend. I was in no hurry. Though I am afraid you will have to wait for my fake wife to return, she is absent for the moment." Hob answered as he led her to the sitting room.

"There is no need, I know exactly where your problem comes from," she explained as she took a seat. "It is also the reason it took me a week to find you. After we parted, I went looking for you on Earth. I found you asleep. I waited, unnoticed, and heard people around you talking. Apparently, you've been sleeping uninterrupted for years. You are dreaming, Hob Gadling, that is why everything feels off."

Terror seized Hob. It was impossible. He had tested it, extensively, at the beginning. He was sure he was not in a dream. Had everything he'd lived since his first life been a lie? Would everything crumble into dust as soon as he would wake up to a reality where Eleanor and Robyn had been dead and buried for decades?

"When…Since when…" Hob stuttered, his breathing so hectic that he could not formulate a whole sentence.

Nuala moved from her seat to kneel next to Hob's, and placed a reassuring hand on Hob's arm. She accompanied him as he tried to find his bearings again.

"Has every life I've lived been a dream? Was nothing real?" He finally asked when words returned to him.

"I am unsure. I do not think so, because how else would you know me? The life you lived as the Hobgoblin would have to be real."

A weigh lifted from Hob's shoulder, and the fist that held Hob's heart unclenched a bit.

"So only my last life is a dream? Why?"

"Yes, I think so. As to why, you would need to explain to me what you did to anger the King of Dreams and Nightmares that he plunged you into an eternal sleep."

"The King of Dreams and Nightmares?"

"Tall guy, always dressed in black, brooding, cheekbones that could cut glass, perfect nose, deep rumbling voice?"

"Oh, him," was all Hob could utter.

His mysterious patron was the King of Dreams and Nightmares. That was unexpected. Hob had always thought he was related to Death somehow, since he'd given Hob physical immortality, and Shakespeare eternal fame.

"Death's brother?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"I know why he's pissed off with me. He doesn't like me returning back in time to save my family. He must have built this dream were Eleanor and Robyn would not die, so that I was not tempted to go back. This is a trick."

Nuala nodded, but did not add any suggestion of solution.

"Nuala, I need you to do something for me again."

"What is it?"

"I need you to go to my body in the real world, and kill me."

"What? Absolutely not!"

"I would not really die, it would only free me and restart the loop."

"No. Only someone stupid or crazy would meddle with the affairs of the Endless. I am neither."

"I beg you, Nuala my friend, you are my only hope."

"I am not your friend. Your friend disappeared long ago when you went back in time. I owe you nothing. Learn to live with what you were given. Good bye, Hob Gadling."

She stood up to live, and Hob tried to grab her. He dodged unnaturally fast, and was out of the house before Hob could try to convince her to give him a chance.

---

Hob was contemplating his razor blade. Last time he had tried this, the King of Dreams and Nightmares had stopped him. Hob thought about his body, unaging and asleep in the real world, like a marble statue. He wondered how time had passed there, if Eleanor was already gone and what had happened to Robyn then.

Hob looked at the blade again. He was certain he had tried ending this life already. There was no trace of it. No blood, no wound. He raised the blade to his throat again, pressing it against the artery.

A hand came over his, guiding the move.

"What are you doing here, Robert Gadling. Tired of this life already?" A barytone voice muttered in his ear. It was both soft and full of threats, amused like a cat was amused by a mouse.

Hob glanced over his shoulder and froze. A blonde man, short haired and young was standing behind him. His hand over Hob's was as unyielding as the Dream Lord's had been. Both his eyes were full of teeth.

The creature inhaled a deep breath in Hob's neck. Hob felt a drop of blood pearling from the blade at his neck, then a lick that caught it before it could slide down.

The terror was totally unexpected. Hob had been trying to off himself, what was he afraid of?

"I heard you, the other day, with your friend the little fey."

"Who are you?"

"I am the Dream Lord's hound. His hunting Nightmare. I am the one tasked with watching over you, and until now I have been very bored."

The one watching Hob to ensure he would not find a way out? Was this man his jailor?

"Fortunately for you, I do not feel very loyal at the moment. If I understood you correctly, you want someone to kill you in the Waking."

Hob nodded imperceptibly. Another drop of blood.

"And when I do it, the universe will wind back in time. And no one but you will remember what happened."

"No one but me and him. The Dream Lord. He remembers."

"Of course, he does. But I will not, and that's what matters."

"If you do not remember, why would you do it?"

"Because I want to experience killing you. I have been wanting it for so long, a real death, in the Waking. I want to smell the hot blood as the pulse fades away, I want to taste the horror in the eyes. And with you, I can do it, and face no consequence for it."

Hob closed his eyes. With any luck, he would not even feel it, nor remember it. He would sleep through it.

"Do it. Go to the Waking, enjoy my death."

---

To go back to the masterpost, it’s here

#the sandman #fanfiction #centennial husbands #centennial husbands big bang 2024 #don’t look back

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szmaragdrac · 3 years

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I was tagged by @sunsetknowsaboutyou (thanks <3)!

1. your all time favorite bl and why

I Told Sunset About You. It's just soooooo beautiful and the quality of everything is top notch. I love the atmosphere, the cinematography, the camera work (the camera work!), the music, the locations, the acting. It feels like an European independent movie with the best quality. And on top of that, they learn Chinese and the Chinese culture is important for them, which I loooove tremendously.

2. that one bl that scarred you for life

None, sorry :D

3. is there any bl that made you feel very single?

Not really? I don't think so, but I guess I Told Sunset About You is closest to that (it made me feel a lot of things, which is so unusual for me).

4. If you could change one thing from a bl, which one would it be?

No obsession with top/bottom, wife/hubby etc.

5. that one bl you detest (don’t hold back)

Yeah, it's probably HIStory1: Obsessed. I know there are plenty of people who love it, but I just can't with this stupid, pointless scenario and their weird actions. And also... dreaming about your love's funeral and realizing you did something wrong? Huge XD. (And I also think Don't Say No is stupid af.)

6. your top five

It's constantly changing, but as for now (in no particular order):

- I Told Sunset About You

- A Tale of Thousand Stars

- Where Your Eyes Linger

- The Untamed (yes, it's a BL!)

- Bad Buddy

7. that trashy bl that you lowkey like

Hah, it's My Engineer :D I don't think the whole show is trashy, just the main couple is... sadly the worst. But others?! Oh my, they are so precious! Their relationships show trust, honesty, courage, respect, love and also friendship. I adore them so much!

8. your favorite korean bl (it’s important we know)

Of course Where Your Eyes Linger. I just love how they managed to create such a meaningful story within that short running time. Before I started watching that, I was scared they'll ruin this relationship with homophobia (because we all know South Korea), but they created a completely new conflict for those boys (the fact that one of them is almost like a prince and the other one is a bodyguard), which made me see this obstacle as something more important than their genders. I was very surprised, and yes, I know, the dad was probably also homophobic, but... it wasn't the core of this story! And also, I love their chemistry, I love the fact that Gook was so much in love, but he knew he couldn't say that because he's not entirely free, I love the fact that Tae Joo was the first to confess because he is entitled to do so, and I just love every single piece of their relationship development (and the fact that the developmwnt is there!), it's very well done <3 (Sorry for venting, I love this show too much :D)

9. but also your top 3 for kbls

Again, in no prticular order (and it might change in the future):

- Where Your Eyes Linger, haha :D

- To My Star

- Light On Me

10. season 2? which one?

All of them! Okay, I'm joking, but I wish I can see a proper season two of My Engineer (with Ryan and MD :( Boys, please, come baaaack...) And as for a not confirmed season 2, I wish we could get either Where Your Eyes Linger 2 (I am only scared they would somehow ruin the greatness... but can we at least get a special?) or HIStory3: Trapped.

11. a bunch of dramas will air soon. which ones are you the most excited for?

OMG ALL OF THEM?!?!?! Ok, no, I'm overreacting, but those seem to be interesting (out of order again):

- KinnPorshe (obviously!)

- Moonlight Chicken (I am already in love with this series)

- Never Let Me Go (if they'll manage to keep the quality and the atmosphere I might combust)

- Bed Friend (although there's a huge change they'll screw it up)

- Check Out

12. tag them!

I tag everyone who sees this post! :D

#beware! english is nor my first language #ask

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tktsunami · 2 years

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I need more Salric, so I'm writing

(English is not my mother language so beware :D And this are only shorts and moment for an AU)

“You’re wizard Harry.”

Oh, really? Should he be surprised? Maybe. But he knew it since he was one year old. Since the green spell was trying to kill him and his magic threw itself against it. Back then he couldn’t understand what was happening. How could he? He was only one year old. A little child who couldn’t handle all these memories which awoke in that night. Sometimes he couldn’t handle it even now. He was an adult caged in the body and mind of a child. He was a child with the memories, magic and feeling of an adult. He was a freak, not because he could do magic. He was a freak before this life and now even more, because he could remember, because he could use his magic from his old life. He was a freak for this family and he would be a freak to the magical world, too.

But only if they knew, and he would try to be just Harry and not Godric Gryffindor. At least as long as he could to find out why he was back, why the magic decided to activate now. Hogwarts had called for help and he would find out why and how to help his school. It would be easier if wizards and witches didn’t know who he truly was.

“You must be wrong. I’m Harry. Just Harry.”

He was a liar. Harry Potter died that night ten years ago. Harry died and Godric awoke.

~~~

It hurt to be at Hogwarts. The magic of the school welcomed him happily, taking him in. It was too much. His magic cores were vibrating inside him, fighting each other. The magic of ‘just Harry’ was weak but stubborn. It grew with age and was more aggressive than his old ‘Godric’ magic core. This one was older, powerful and wild, but also more tamed. It tries to protect him. Magic cores grew with time, a reason why children showed more magic the older they got. This was also important because the magic an adult possesses would be too much for a small body - for the body of a child, for a body who was not fully developed. His old magic core had been sleeping like his memories, but awoke to protect him against the death curse. With that it couldn’t just sleep again. It tried as good as it could to retreat to protect the small body. With his other magic core growing and attacking it fought back.

Now, he was in Hogwarts, and his old magic connected with the school was rising and hurting him. He could feel how he lost more and more of his control and was barely standing. That was the moment when Draco Malfoy came to him. The ‘boy-who-lived’ didn’t want to make enemies, but after insulting of the first boy who was kind to him in this life, he just snapped.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

Godric wanted to slap himself. He could have been out better words. Words that didn’t reject Malfoy's friendship, but also didn’t approve of his behavior.

But there were no words in his mind except ‘It hurts’.

~~~

When he looked into the mirror, he didn't see himself. Not like he was at the moment. There was no scar, no black short hair, nor wear glasses. His eyes were green, not the emerald green he had now, but a mint green. He was older, had blonde shoulder-length hair and a three days beard. His eyes were not so tired, not so empty and filled with sadness. They sparkled with joy, happiness and life. He was smiling and he was not alone.

He was surrounded by them. His best friends, his family.

The boy who lived cried as he saw this. At least the first time. He never told Ron, nor anyone else. He knew what the mirror was. The Mirror showed the deepest desire of the person who looked into it. He wasn’t dump and he could read. And most importantly… he didn’t need this mirror to know his deepest desire. But it was nice to see them. It was nice to see himself surrounded by them. It was not true but it helped to forget for a few moments.

When Dumbledore found him, he thought he would see his dead parents: Lily and James Potter. Dumbledore was too convinced of his thinking to think anything else, to ask him what he was seeing in the mirror. It never occurred to him that his student didn't long for people he had no memories of. Why should he? The ones you could remember and lose were the ones you longed for the most.

But he never corrected Dumbledore nor did he say what was truly in his mind when Dumbledore told him: “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.".

If he hadn't lived a little of his dreams, Hogwarts wouldn't be standing here, full of life. And he wasn’t dwelling on dreams either.

He just remembered his old life and missed it, regretting that he had given himself a chance at a new life without his friends. But when he cast the spell, created that chance, he thought only of Hogwarts, to protect it. He had never imagined how hard it would be. To be Godric Gryffindor, alone at Hogwarts, without the other founders. To be alive while they were not.

And he was nothing more. Alive but not living.

He asked what Dumbledore had seen, but got nothing but a lie. Fair enough.

He looked back to the mirror, saw Helga giving Rowena a flower crown, saw Salazar looking at them fondly, then looked at him - not his mirrored old self - and smiled his little smile. It hurts but it was a pain he welcomed. It was only a sign how deeply he missed them.

~~~

Sometimes he wonders what had happened to Hogwarts if he would have been longer alive. Would it have been a difference at all? Maybe for his friends at least. Could he have prevented the tragedy between Rowena and her daughter? He was shocked to see the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw. She was looking a lot like her mother in her adulthood so it was not hard to recognize her, even though he only knew her from her childhood.

After he recognized her he was searching desperately in the library about the history of the other founders. The line of Ravenclaw ended with Helena and Rowena - the last one died shortly after her daughter. Hufflepuff at least did not end that early but it was impossible for him to find out more. At least here in the library of Hogwarts. Slytherin had a daughter - Katharina - but she was never mentioned. But a big lie was written. The book stated that Salazar left Hogwarts after a huge fight between him and Godric. That had to be a mistake. He still could remember how Salazar desperately tried to find a cure for him. How Salazar was sitting next to his bed while he died. Godric had tried to comfort his friend, his secret love. Even now he could feel his heart longed for Slytherin.

He was maybe only eleven years old, at least in this life but his feelings were older and nce someone was in his heart he would never stop caring, loving. And Salazar was more than a friend even though he never told him. Too afraid how his friend would turn away from him in disgust. Back in his old time it was a sickness to love someone from the same gender. But time changed. There were now people who tried to change the mind of people, who said it was okay to love someone regardless of gender. Godric knew it because Uncle Vernon was so angry that the TV was showing something called ‘Pride Parade’. Even there were people now who were fighting for people like him… He still thought he was sick because of it, he still thought he was a freak because of it. He had a whole life thinking that way and even when Salazar would be still alive, breathing and talking next to him, Godric knew he would never be brave enough to say it. The friendship was more important than to acknowledge his feelings to him. But only Godric was alive. Alive alive and Salazar was dead, not here.

Godric knew his feelings would never change. Ron and Hermione were his friends but they would never be so close to him like the other founders. They only knew Harry, not Godric and they never would. And no one could ever take Salazar's place. He would only love him and no one else. Not back then, not now or in the future.

#godric x salazar #gryffindor #slytherin #hogwarts #hogwarts houses #hogwarts founders #harry potter #SalRic #own writing #What if Harry is Godric Gryffindor

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postmodernbeing · 3 years

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Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU - Outfits pt II)

Part I | College AU HCs

Part II of the outfits/aesthetics headcanons - College AU that would (kinda) be included in the oneshot I'm working on.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor the trend of this outfits-displays, only this HCs belong to me. // Contains spoilers (for the icons that I used in some characters) // English is not my first language, so I ask for your patience and understanding.

Historia Reiss

She has a huge wardrobe and so well organized by color, textures, and sizes. From halter tops to maxi dresses, our queen really dresses like one.

Forever in love with skirts and dresses with patterns and/or pastel colors. But don’t get confused, girl has range.

So, one could see her wearing monochromatic ensembles one day and the other, she’s all dressed up with some bright color pieces matching a patterned shirt.

Also owns a vast collection of jewelry and accessories both original and classy. And let’s not forget the shoes: sneakers, heels, boots, sandals and cute little anklets to match. I swear she can make crocs look boujee.

Contrary to what people think, she doesn’t support fast fashion industry. Aware of her privilege, she knows she has the money and time to buy from small businesses and keep herself trendy.

Last but not least, and kind of clothing related: Historia loves taking Ymir to thrift shopping dates and later go eating at some indie cafeteria. The lifestyle is also part of the outfit, alright?

Ymir

Her wardrobe consists in comfortable clothes and not giving a fuck. All her clothes give Rockstar lesbian vibes (stan this queen). Her designated color palette is based on dark shades, so it’s a real contrast between her outfits and Historia’s.

Loves combat boots and her wasted Converse TM, although her favorite pieces from her apparel are bomber jackets, coats, sweaters, and hoodies.

Ymir also wears a fair amount of stainless-steel accessories, mostly chunky rings and chains. Moreover, is common to find her listening to music, therefore, earphones are a fashion statement really.

Speaking about must-wear, this girl likes to paint her nails black but due her anxiety she tends to scratch the painting off so it gives this grunge look (don’t romanticize this fellas).

Historia would suggest her some trends or give her advice about color, but being honest, Ymir has a very well-defined style at this point.

Now, about her dress style: She won’t dress like a metalhead nor grunge (at least not intentionally). And she wouldn’t define her style as dark, it’s just what it is.

Reiner Braun

He wears lots of denim in jackets and jeans but also owns a couple of dress pants that combines with beanies or simple caps. Also, has plenty of plain simple shirts that fit his strong body.

Reiner usually wears opaque shades of all colors. Another fact, he’s not a big fan of patterns unless we’re talking about sweaters. He also wears jackets yet avoids cardigans and hoodies.

A very important thing to know, Reiner has a lot of gym clothes, he works out daily so don’t be surprised.

Most of those clothes are joggers, pants, shorts, and t-shirts that look as if he ripped them off or something.

Actually, a lot of his clothes look like they’re about to be ripped apart due his huge ass pectorals (please, Reiner, let me rest gently on your pecs). Just kidding, his whole wardrobe fits him perfectly.

Finally, if Reiner had to define his style in a sentence, he’d probably acknowledge that he gives the impression of a rich a-hole, but really, Rei just likes to be comfortable and presentable at all times. So, rich white guy it is for now.

Bertolt Hoover

Bertie is that one friend that always carries a cardigan or sweater just in case, also because he tends to lend his clothes if a friend of his is in need. So thoughtful, our big baby.

His wardrobe is amazingly well organized, and its color palette is unmatched. Lots of blue, brown, beige, white and black.

We know he’s tall enough to call everybody’s attention every time he enters a room. And being as shy as he can be, he avoids brilliant colors or striking pieces. Instead, he chooses simpler outfits.

Bertolt follows this formula every time: pants, shirt, sweater. Everything clean and discrete.

Now if we must talk about his shoes, Berts prefers some white sneakers or modest dress shoes. He wouldn’t say he owns a vast collection, rather, he keeps a fair amount for different occasions.

No tattoos nor piercings. Speaking of which, it’s so rare to see him wearing any accessories at all. Maybe he'll carry with him an analogical clock, and that's it. Although if someone gave him a friendship bracelet you can be sure he'll wear it all-the-time.

Annie Leonhart

Lots of denim for her jackets and jeans. Hoodies, bands merch and graphic t-shirts.

Her clothes’ color palette has range but nothing too pastel or colorful. Instead, she gets all the opaque version of the pieces she likes.

Not that Annie hates dresses or skirts, it’s just unusual for her to even think about wearing them. She prioritizes being comfortable, and tight/short clothes can’t provide her that feeling.

Hates slim clothes unless it’s a tank top or something similar. She just prefers oversized hoodies and mom jeans. Also, if Annie can avoid skinny pants, you can be sure she will.

Owns a fair amount of gym clothes because she also likes to train but most of the times, you’ll see her running around campus, really. She’s a simple woman with simple pleasures.

Annie is the personification of ‘looks like she could kill you, is an actual cinnamon roll’, from her attitude to her clothes. So beware, for she’s the queen of looking rude with her chains around her belt, and her ring to match but don't let her fool- holy shit, that thing can actually stab someone. As I was mentioning, such a sweet gal, isn’t she?

Hitch Dreyse

She can make it boujee with so little effort (and money), lemme tell you. Wears her clothes with such an attitude and class. Hitch's an actual wine-mom, or aunt maybe? she gives those vibes.

People have the impression from her style, that her parents are rich, but nothing could be further from the truth. It’s just that Hitch knows how to dress. (Also, we know that for a fact sis has a scholarship, okay?) ANYWAYS,

Miss here is forever in love with white and baby blue. Owns plenty of jeans but also dress pants and culottes that wears with blazers or shirts that make her look like a princess with a diversity of fabrics such as satin, silk-alike texture, and cotton.

Hitch is the queen of heels. Although she hates very high ones, she rocks shorter heels and walks in them with little to no effort. Or at least looks like it. All of her shoes are classy yet unique.

Now, let’s talk about her collection of accessories. Hitch likes her jewels in gold and only buys signature pieces: rings, earrings (for her four lobe perforations, two in each ear) and necklaces, of course. Yes, it is gold but in modest designs. Sounds fair, right?

Marlowe Freudenberg

Our big boy in here thinks that he should look presentable at all times since he’s the Chief Editor of the History student’s academic journal at Paradis’ Uni. Not that he cares a lot of his appearance, really.

And that’s actually cute because he puts effort into his outfits. Marlowe would be one of those straight guys that are hygienic and know how to dress and has no fragile masculinity.

Cologne is a must and part of his attire just like handkerchiefs are, because at the same time, he was raised to be the classic gentleman TM.

Marlowe dresses in all colors; he can’t choose a favorite one or a never-changing palette. He’s aware of season colors too and plays that at his wardrobe favor.

Yet for his outfits he’d follow few simple rules: oxfords (cleaned), dress pants (somewhere between slim fit and straight leg), some polo/dress shirt/cotton thing-y for top and a sweater / cardigan / blazer if season demands it.

Finally, our favorite student-editor spends some time of his routine shaving his face and styling his hair, albeit wouldn’t consider himself a vain guy nor full of himself. Lowkey expects Hitch to notice his appearance. Such a sweetheart.

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mcrmadness · 3 years

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This is just me talking about (my) asexuality and aromanticism and mainly about how I figured I'm aroace. I'm from Finland and recently turned 30 so my experience and "lgbt+ history" might not be what you know it as, especially if you are not from Europe, or if your native language is English.

Also this is highly personal, so I doubt anyone here will have 100% same experience. But that's fine because remember: we're all individuals here and these are NEVER universal. You're still valid even if you wouldn't relate to what being aspec is to me.

It might be IS a long post so beware, but I've just been feeling like writing down some thoughts so here we go...

What I have been able to track is that I was 17, in 2008, when I first stumbled upon the term "asexuality". I don't remember exactly how, but I just remember reading about it and immediately going "yeah that's me". But what I do remember is that no one talked it being about sexual attraction. Basically how understood it was: asexuality = sex-repulsion.

I was 17, and somehow I knew I was sex-repulsed, but at the same time also thought I'm just a minor, so it's normal to be sex-repulsed. But even after turning 18, I don't recall ever feeling sexual attraction. I didn't think of myself as a "late bloomer" but just as someone who just has no interest towards sex. At some point I became really anxious of men, however. Nothing has ever happened to me* but still I, for some reason, developed terrible fear of men. I'm afab and just did not want to be seen as an object, and it made, still makes me, terrified to think someone might look at me and have Emotions. I know that we can't control our brains, I mean, I can't look at someone and force myself to feel attraction - just like those who do feel attraction, can't force themselves to stop feeling attraction. They can only control their actions. But yeah, I also had horrible (sexual) intrusive thoughts due to my generalized anxiety disorder at some point, which did not really help. They got a bit better when I came into terms with my asexuality and aromanticism, but sometimes they still come at me and it's never fun, but at least they're not as strong as what they used to be.

*(Unless if you can count that as sexual harrasment when, CW, I was 11 and a classmate was "into" me and tried to touch my face and talk "sweet things" to me but made it into a show despite me being uncomfortable and usually crying cos as a neurodivergent I didn't know how else to react.)

But anyway, back to the topic. So for years I understood asexuality as sex-repulsion, but I guess it's because I, well, am a sex-repulsed ace. So if I'm sex-repulsed, why would I then look at someone and feel something if I'm repulsed by the thing anyway? Like, it probably can't get any simpler than this :D And I know today that it's not as simple anymore. But that was 2008, at school (in ~2005) they only talked about gays a little, on one page in a sex.ed. book that otherwise was maybe 100 pages long. Only one page. About gays. And it was basically "Some boys like boys or some girls like girls and it's totally fine." and that was it, but the overall assumption was that everyone likes someone. And also there were no romantic orientations. Liking someone = both sexually and romantically. Not liking = not a thing except when you were depressed or otherwise mentally ill, or autistic or mentally disabled (which is a SUPER ableist take btw). I don't remember teachers ever talking about this, but it could also just be my adhd, maybe they did mention, but I just don't remember. At least in my notebooks there is no mention of this, everything was very much heteronormative and amatonormative, and also there was only two genders. I don't remember ever hearing about transgender people, apart from foreign documentaries and in them they were always portrayed as some shocking freaks of the nature, and loads of wrong terms were used. And this is still the mid and late 2000s we're talking about!

So this takes us to the other part aka aromanticism. Back then asexuality was not only sex-repulsion but also merged together with aromanticism, because people didn't talk about romantic orientations yet. So asexuality was not only sex-repulsion, but also you simply just not wanting a relationship. Again, nothing about attraction, just someone who did not care about sex nor relationships. A "forever single", if you will.

This was already annoying me a lot back then because I was really annoyed by sex "running the world". I was so angry because why is asexual the only sexuality that doesn't like sex? All the other sexualities had the assumption of them always wanting to have sex. Like, even think about someone who is straight, you hear that someone is straight, and you automatically assume(d) that oh they're into sex too cos why wouldn't they be. This was really driving me nuts because I was sure there are people who want to have a partner, but never want to have sex! I was still experiencing crushes, and I knew for sure it was nothing sexual, so it annoyed me that just because I'm asexual, it means I can't have crushes. That's why I actually called myself as "asexual bi" for a while, because "bisexual" indicated I would have not been sex-repulsed and I wanted to point out that I'm NOT into sexual things, at all - and remember that this was still the late 2000s or early 2010s and I had not heard of romantic orientations yet! So I was up to something, there just were no terms for that yet! Today that would be called bi-/panromantic asexual.

I haven't been able to track the exact date or even year when did I figure out I'm aromantic, or when did I hear about romantic orientations for the first time. From the messages I've been able to find, I was already in my early 20s. Aka somewhere around maybe 2011-2013. In those, I have still been wondering what I am or if I even want to have a relationship, not being really able to tell what I wanted or didn't want. Again, no one told me romantic orientations are about ATTRACTION and not about whether you have commitment issues or not (this as a half-joke, cos I have severe commitment issues with everything :D I need to feel free!).

Anyway, I do remember my key moment with aromanticism, or the "aromantic awakening" as you could call it too, was when I was 17 or 18. Or maybe I was older? I don't know, I have time blindness. Anyway, I had this one online friend I had a "crush" on (I think it was just undiagnosed adhd's person hyperfixation) and I even told her about it. Everything just is super shady, from those years, I was not really on my best and there are so many overlapping memories that feel like different alternative universes instead of memories on a same timeline. Anyway, I just remember at some point thinking about this girl and I thought about some "romantic" stuff, like kissing, and I just remember my brain going "NOOOOOPE!" I had wanted to meet with her some day so bad, but when I started thinking about actually meeting with her, I started to nope the fuck out. All I had in my head was awkward embarrassing "first kiss" scenarios from movies and I just was not having it! I basically went "lol I guess I'm aro too, then XD" but I still don't remember when did I have this realization. Was I 17? Or was I, say, 22? I guess I need to go through my old MSN Messenger and Skype convos some day to investigate this further because I really want to know. I couldn't even find anything from my Tumblr from those times (I registered here in 2011), but I don't know if that's just me not tagging or Tumblr search functioning normally (aka it never finds anything).

But yeah, I am touch-repulsed. And kiss-repulsed, and romance-repulsed, too, (unless it's my OTP we're talking about). I'm still not exactly sure if I'm touch repulsed because I'm aromantic, or if I'm aromantic because I'm touch-repulsed. I only know that because of my sensory issues (I'm neurodivergent), I have never liked touching nor being touched. Even as a little kid I hated hugs and never liked sitting on anyone's lap. I only tolerated my parents, mainly my mom, because they were my safe place as an extremely shy baby/toddler/kid, who was especially wary about men. I can't explain the latter, but there was something about adult men that caused me (as a baby) to hide my face against my mom's shoulder if they talked to me. I did that to everyone I didn't know, but especially to men I didn't know. No idea why.

I also remember how my siblings loved to sit on people's laps and were always climbing onto their laps, and I didn't like this. And once my (late) grandma was so touched when she asked me if I want to sit on her lap (I was maybe 5-7?) and I agreed just to make her happy. I still remember how it felt, and I did not like it at all, but it still made my grandma so happy that I THINK she almost cried when she told my mom I actually agreed to sit on her lap. I'm not sure how real this last part of the memory is because I was so young. But I do remember thinking I do that for a change because I knew my grandma would be happy.

So yeah, my touch-repulsion is not exactly a new thing but just something that has been a part of my personality forever. But is that the core reason for why I only feel aesthetic attraction? I never look at people and feel like I wanna touch. More of the opposite, the idea of having to touch them or them touching me makes me go "eeewww". If you have seen that video of a gibbon shaking their whole body after seeing a rat in their exhibit? That's what I feel like when I think about touching or being touched, in just any way, also platonically.

The only time I feel "sensual attraction" is when I see photos or videos of animals. The urge to pet a tiger is insane. But the feel of another human's skin or muscle (or hair or whatever) is very repulsive to me.

I still remember how disgusting it felt to e.g. sit on a cousin's lap. We sometimes used swings like this, and somehow I was aware of it not feeling nice, but still not doing anything about it cos it also was okay? Only later I have realized I really, really loathe the texture of human skin. Or the warmth and overall feeling of a human body. For example, I was at least 7 or younger when I sat on my cousin's lap while we were sitting on a swing and STILL, after over 20 years, I have that all in my body memory. I remember how the thigh bone felt under my legs and how freaking disgusting the muscles felt inbetween. Also at school, on the 1st grade, we often had to walk in a line of twos after the teacher and hold the pair's hand so no one gets lost. My then-friend had so ridiculously dry skin that the only thing I could think of was how I felt like throwing up because the skin on her palm felt so damn disgusting. I still can feel that in my hand when I think of it. That's one of my "core memories" from 1st grade - how disgusting the human skin can feel like.

I don't think I have ever felt actual romantic attraction towards anyone. It's really difficult to differentiate because as I mentioned, I get those people hyperfixations easily. I guess it's the same hormones but I never really want to do anything with them? I guess it's the emotional intimacy that "attracts" me and what gets me excited, but I'm still not exactly sure what emotional intimacy means to me. I don't exactly fall into the QPR category either, in a way I wish I had a best friend whose best friend also I would be, and that neither would have anyone else who is "better" than the other one. But the only intimacy there would be emotional intimacy, nothing else. And I need my freedom so I wouldn't move in with any human being, either.

Sometimes I've thought my "ideal partner" would be a robot because if I get annoyed, I could just turn it off and stuff into a closet and leave there, and if I felt like not having a "relationship" anymore, I could just remove the harddrive and destroy the robot, or both. That way I would be the only one with the memories, and I wouldn't have to worry about someone out there knowing things about me, things that only the closest can know, and I'm really afraid of letting anyone close in case it won't work (also with regular friendships) because I can't stop thinking about how much I wish I had that MIB memory cancelling device so that they would again know almost nothing, or at least much much less about me. There's already one friendship that ended a few years ago and I still keep thinking about how I wish I could take everything back and how I wish they delete(d) all the files and drawings and stuff I sent them. There are so many things about me I wish I never told them, now as we are no longer friends. Back then it felt like "of course this is gonna last a lifetime!" but turns out that nope, not all friendships will.

I guess it's time to stop rambling. This post is really long already. If you read it all the way here: congrats. And thanks. You probably just wasted your time but... that's on you I guess :DDD But yeah, some thoughts from a 30-years-old aroace who has been aware of their identity for at least or almost 10 years now.

#mcrmadness' deep thoughts #asexuality #aromantic #aroace #aspec

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lost-in-sokovia · 4 years

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Lightning In A Bottle

back at it again with #CaptainsWeeklyChallenge ! this week’s challenge was a song fic, so i chose “Electric Love” by BØRNS because it’s kinda a bop. i did take the peppy song and put a dark twist on the lyrics so please beware. anyway, please enjoy this bucky fic, it’s a lil dark but i enjoyed writing it🤍 (this is dedicated to my girl @lookalivefrosty . i got you some bucky, sis!)

Warnings: dark and heavy theme, fighting, kinda violent, not the happiest ending (and please check out my note at the end about the picture at the top!!!!!!)

How could a few words turn a night so wonderful into a night of terror?

Your heart beat against your chest as loud as the thunder outside. You layed in the damp hallway of the crappy apartment which was now close to destroyed. A thin mattress that someone used to call a bed was now scorched and the only thing somewhat securing you as you hid. The concrete chilled you to the bone as a forming puddle slowly soaked your hair as rain dripped through the cracks.

You exhaled shakily and shivered, trying not to move that mattress. You heard footsteps echo and gunshots ring throughout the hall. Closing your eyes tightly you tried to keep calm and remember the way things were before those simple yet horrendous words were spoken...

You’d been doing so well. Steve couldn’t keep up with all the assignments from Fury by himself, let alone deal with SHIELD being taken over by Hydra, so Steve had given you the mission to try and make as much progress with Bucky as possible. This mission was completely unknown to SHIELD and basically something private Steve had trusted you with. It was a process, trying to convince Bucky you weren’t there to hurt or exploit him. You had to learn a whole new language just to have incase English wasn’t his preference in intimate conversation (even though he never really replied to you anyway, so you gave up and used English for your own comfort but had to put a Russian accent to use.) Steve had trained you to give a well versed and thought-out backstory that was supposed to hopefully keep you covered and Bucky convinced.

It was terrifying the first day of your mission. The soldier spoke very little and his blue eyes were narrowed when he would eye you suspiciously. When you’d introduced yourself he had responded in Russian, leading you to basically fumble your whole greeting with a sloppy Russian-English mix. He was probably wondering what kind of Russian immigrant was so horrible at their own language, and he was on your back for a little while about it. Bucky would get very irritated when you would show up at his door day after day, trying to talk to him and spend time with him. It wasn’t like you wanted to bug a high level security threat though, you had to mentally and physically prepare yourself for anything before showing up.

And after countless days of determination the soldier eventually warmed up to you, letting you join him while eating and just spend plain time with you. He found you as someone who could listen to him and relate with, even when there was no talking going on. You however tried to coax everything you could out of him, even having to try and offer over his memories while he tried his best to think and convey. You knew it was probably hard for him; Hydra did basically everything to wipe his memory and trying to regain those thoughts that were buried deep inside him. Your mind ran around him every single night after leaving, pounding in your head as you couldn’t wait to visit another day and make more progress.

You had even began to develop a small crush on the Winter Soldier. You knew you shouldn’t and it was definitely not something you wanted or was planning on having, but who can control their emotions? He was really sweet down below all the Hydra programming, and you knew that’s who he was. You thought about all the stories Steve had told you about 40’s Bucky and you longed to meet that Bucky. You imagined how sweet he was probably back then, and you worked yourself tirelessly to try and bring him back. You knew he was quite the ladies’ man back then and had such a lively spirit, like a firecracker. And even when Bucky wasn’t speaking his blue eyes would pull you in and drown you, the windows to his soul pouring out the emotions that weren’t spoken.

“Soldier, do you remember your name?” You asked one night. The two of you sat on the floor of the small apartment one night while rain pattered against the newspaper-covered windows. Bucky exhaled, concentrating at the floor. “B-...” He sounded out quietly as he racked his brain for a name. Your nodded eagerly and watched him closely. “...Bucky?” He answered unsurely. You smiled, holding back all the excitement you could. “‘Bucky’ is your name?” You verified. He grunted lightly. “I think...” He muttered, both confused and slightly sad he could only verify with himself.

Your heart pounded against your chest that night, proud with accomplishment. Every time Bucky would begin to recall something, you kept it bottled away inside you. And then once you had it, you couldn’t afford you nor Bucky to let it go and forget. Part of your assignment was to also adjust Bucky to more modern life so it wouldn’t be as much of a culture shock. That part was definitely difficult; you could only pass off so much while acting like an immigrant and living in Romania. You had decided music was a good start, especially since that was probably a luxury that a highly-trained Russian super soldier wasn’t graced with but the real Bucky Barnes knew all too well.

You had pulled a few strings and was able to get a small CD player and a few disks, compliments of a very stressed out Captain America back home. (Steve was a nervous wreck back in the states. He knew you were in possible danger there and would be responsible for anything that might happen to you, along with the fact you were staying with someone who could go from zero to one hundred with just a few micellaneous words.) When you’d introduced it to Bucky he was a little excited about it.

“We can play music on this?” He’d asked quietly as his blue orbs stared at the tiny machine. You nodded and pulled out a few CDs. “This is some of my favorite music,” you replied as you slipped the thin silver disc into the player. A few songs started playing and Bucky raised an eyebrow. “This is American,” he pointed out skeptically. You blinked a few times and shrugged. “It’s better sounding,” you brushed off as you tried to exaggerate your fake accent.

Over time Bucky became very obsessed with the player. He was always playing music and concentrating on it very hard. He became so vulnerable and open and it made your heart pitter-patter like rain. And the one night you let your guard down was the night your mission seemed to end.

Over the course of the mission you had been required to update Steve as discreetly as possible. You kept him updated both on you and the state of his best friend. It was routine; you were to report back to your room at 9PM every night (the time Steve was available and alone) and give a report. One night you let Steve know you weren’t going to be reporting back at your normal time. Despite his protests you argued that Bucky was the most alert you’d seen him. He was finally seeming to recall most everything and be the real him, not the Winter Soldier. You’d been with him for nearly a month and a half and you told Steve that you deserved some fun with him.

After Steve finally giving you permission you walked to Bucky’s the happiest you’d been during that mission. When you walked into his apartment the CD player was already playing the music Steve had sent. You shut the door behind you and quickly skipped over and stopped the music. Bucky looked up at you to protest as you switched out CDs. “This is my favorite song,” you commented as you pressed play. The beat of drums began to play through the speaker as you pulled the soldier up and began to move his arms in dance.

Bucky blinked as you continued to dance. “Come on Bucky, dance!” You urged as you let go and danced around. The lyrics of the song danced in your head while you moved; baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle. I can’t let you go now that I got it. Bucky was your lightning in a bottle. You were doing everything you could to keep the Bucky you had now that you found it.

As you continued to dance the door suddenly busted down and gunshots rang in the apartment. You dropped to the ground as the music came to a halt as bullets hit the machine. You gasped as you tried to hide behind the couch as more men entered. The table was knocked over, glass was shattered on the floor, and the player was now in pieces on the floor. You looked around for Bucky who was now held by the arms of two men. He wiggled and tried to yank his arms when an unarmmed and unusually calm man walked in, holding a small red book. You stared with wide eyes as your heart pounded against your chest.

The man halted right in front of Bucky and eyed him for a moment before holding the small red book up to his face. You went pale. No, that book couldn’t be-

“Тоска ржавая,” he began slowly in Russian. Your eyes widened in horror as Bucky shook his head aggrivatedly. “No, no-“ “семнадцать.” The man ignored Bucky’s pleas. Bucky tilted his head back and clenched his teeth. “рассвет, печь, девять...” Bucky began to groan loudly and angrily as you quickly scrambled out of the apartment. You ran down the hall as you continued to hear Bucky’s trigger words being spoken in Russian and him screaming.

Before you could get any farther, a bomb went off near you outside and flung you against the concrete wall. You landed harshly on the floor as objects flew past you and a wall broke. Rain poured through the broken wall as you heard people screaming, doors being kicked down, and gunshots firing. You grabbed your aching side and inhaled sharply, crawling over to the corner of the stairwell and grabbed a dirty mattress.

That’s where you found yourself after trying to think of anything but where you were. There were a few bodies laying in the hallway just below your eyesight as Bucky stomped around and shot. Your heart wrenched, knowing all the progress you made was probably lost. You shivered and inhaled shakily, wishing there was a way to contact Steve. You cursed yourself for breaking Steve’s rules. If this was going on while you followed guidelines, you and other people could’ve been saved relatively soon. You prayed that the team was somehow contacted already... they had to be with Hydra activity going on. Steve probably had a close eye on this location, right?

You held back a sob as your mind darted and imagined scenarios that probably weren’t going to happen. Crying wasn’t an option, you thought to yourself. What could you do to keep from crying a little longer...

A lightbulb went off in your head. You sniffed as thunder rolled in the sky. “Candy... she’s sweet like candy in my veins...” you whispered to yourself as you heard a woman’s scream and a gunshot. You flinched. “Baby... I’m dying for another taste...” Bucky’s footsteps made their way out of the hall and into the stairwell. You wished to go back in time to when you were still unlocking more memories with Bucky. You looked out the small crack and watched him glance around. “And every night my mind is running around her...” You basically mouthed as your anxiety rose.

You curled yourself tighter together as the footsteps landed right in front of you. Bucky kicked the mattress away and held a gun right in front of your face. A tear rolled down your cheek as you wished he would somehow remember you and break away from the brainwashing. You stared into his blue eyes and uttered a weak as desperate “Bucky.” His hold on the gun tightened as he cocked it. You clenched your eyes shut and heard a loud “(Y/N)!” being called from outside.

The gun fired.

wow, bummer. i don’t write fics like this a lot but it’s nice to venture out. so did you guys like the art at the top?? that was done by my very close and wonderful best friend @ghostofkiwi !! she’s mega talented and is so wonderful! we’ve been friends since 5th grade and she has such a passion and gift for art! please go check her out and give her a follow to see her wonderful work! you’ll be seeing more of her work in some of my fics so i really hope you consider following! thanks again for reading!🤍 ( @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @donutloverxo )

#captainsweeklychallenge #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #captain america winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine

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just-a-caffeine-addict · 4 years

Text

Quotes Accrued in a Decade

“…as you well know, the source of the Nile remained invisible to those who lived next to it for a thousand years. Identifying it required a stranger. (A fresh pair of eyes may see what others miss)” –Sherlock Holmes (From The Perils of Sherlock Holmes: Short Stories)

“A couple of years before he died, I kissed my father goodbye. He said, ‘Son, you haven’t kissed me since you were a little boy.’ It went straight to my heart, and I kissed him whenever I saw him after that, and my sons and I always kiss whenever we meet.” –Terry Wogan

“A wise man makes his own decisions, an ignorant man follows the public opinion.” –Chinese Proverb

“All great truths begin as blasphemies.” –George Bernard Shaw

“An army of donkeys led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a donkey.” –Genghis Khan

"An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error because nobody sees it." –Mahatma Gandhi

“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” –Cesar A. Cruz

“As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.” –Marianna Williamson

“Ask not what your country can do for you –ask what you can do for your country.” –John Kennedy

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply give you courage.” –Lao Tzu

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know.” –English Proverb

“Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.” –George Bernard Shaw

“By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.” –Confucius

“Can you really have a bad experiment? I don’t know. But can you have a bad result? Yes.” — EvanAndKatelyn (From Can Resin Preserve a Pumpkin Carving?)

“canon is but the sandbox in which i strike lightning to form glass. trouble me no more with your quibblings and quorums, lest i grind you to dust beneath my heel and build stories from the remnants of your bones. Avast, foul fiend” —taako waititi (From Tumblr)

“Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?” —Victor Hugo

“Cucullus non facit monachum (A cowl does not make a monk).” – Fool/Feste (From Twelfth Night)

“Demons run when a good man goes to war…” –River Song (From Doctor Who)

“Due to high cost of ammo, there will be NO WARNING SHOTS FIRED.” –Warning sign

“Every couple needs to argue now and then. Just to prove that the relationship is strong enough to survive. Long-term relationships, the ones that matter, are all about weathering the peaks and the valleys.” –Nicholas Sparks (From Safe Haven)

“Everyone gives the title of barbarism to everything that is not in use in his own country.” –Michel de Montaigne (From Of Cannibals)

“Families are the compass that guide us. They are the inspiration to reach great heights, and our comfort when we occasionally falter.” –Brad Henry

“Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Fools take a knife and stab people in the back. The wise take a knife, cut the cord, and set themselves free from the fools.” –Unknown

“Forget injuries, never forget kindnesses.” –Chinese Proverb

“Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.” –Thomas Edison

“Herr, wirf Hern vom Himmel -oder Steine, Hauptsache er trifft (Lord, throw some brains from the heavens -or stones, as long as he hits the mark)!” –German Proverb

“History is for human self-knowledge...the only clue to what man can do is what man has done. The value of history, then, is that it teaches us what man has done and thus what man is.” —R.G. Collingwood

“Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility.” –James Thurber

“I can pretend I’m a fish, but I shouldn’t try to breathe underwater.” –Unknown

“I have the patience of a saint. Saint Cunty McFuckOff.” –Words on a cup

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 1,000 ways that won’t work.” –Thomas Edison

“I made some good deals and I made some bad ones. I really went in the hole with this one.” –Quote on a grave

“I occasionally think, how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an alien threat from outside this world. And yet, I ask is not an alien force ALREADY among us?” –Ronald Reagan

“If I have seen further than others, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” –Isaac Newton

“If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might nearly be free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.” –Victor Frankenstein (From Frankenstein)

“If the world tells me I’m mad, whereas I know I’m not, which of us is right? Thus, being mad is what? Inventing a life one hasn’t lived or loving a woman met in another lifetime? Is it clinging to unsatisfied desires?..” Doriel (From A Mad Desire to Dance)

“If you’re afraid - don’t do it, - if you’re doing it - don’t be afraid!” –Genghis Khan

“If you’re going to be a writer, the first essential is just to write. Do not wait for an idea. Start writing something and the ideas will come. You have to turn the faucet on before the water starts to flow.” —Louis L’Amour

"If you're not asking the questions in a thoughtful way, you're not going to get any results that are useful or interesting." –Tony Wagner

“If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader.” –John Quincy Adams

“I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.” –Jimi Hendrix (From Axis: Bold as Love)

"Imagine a world in which every single person on the planet has free access to the sum of all human knowledge." –Jimmy Wales (Founder of Wikipedia)

"In caucus terrae, luscus rex est (In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king)." –Latin Adage

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” –Abraham Lincoln

“In time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” –George Orwell

“It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.” –André Gide (From Autumn Leaves)

"It's not that I'm so smart. But I stay with the questions much longer." –Albert Einstein

“It’s true. I forget important things sometimes… Sometimes I do think I should give up-- just let the crown win and the world freeze, with me in it. Some days I can’t remember a single reason to keep fighting. Some… Some days I-- I can’t remember her. But giving up’s EASY. You know what’s hard? To BELIEVE in your own worth, to KNOW you’ve got something special in you even if nobody else can see it. Even when YOU can’t.” –Ice King |Simon Petrikov from Adventure Time

“Learn yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” –Albert Einstein

“Learning to trust is one of life’s most difficult tasks.” –Isaac Watts

“Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor.” –Sholom Aleichem

“Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.” –Ann Landers

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” –James Baldwin

“Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” —“The Wonder Years”

“My family is my strength and my weakness.” –Aishwarya rai Bachchan

“Names are the sweetest and the most important sounds in any language.” –Dale Carnegie

“No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” –Mary Wollstonecraft

"No mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips." –Sigmund Freud

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” –Lin Yutang

“NO TRESPASSING. Violators will be shot; Survivors will be shot again.” –Warning Sign

“Nobody knows you as well as our spouse. And that means no one will be quicker to recognize a change when you deliberately start sacrificing your wants and wishes to make sure his or her needs are met.” –Stephen Kendrick from The Love Dare

“Notice: Anyone found here at night will be found here in the morning.” –Warning Sign

“"One thing nature is very good at is creating incredibly complex microscopic structures. That's because nature's machines are the size of molecules, while our crude versions are the size of rooms." –Theodore Gray (from Molecules: The Elements and Architecture of Everything)

“Only the sufferers know how their bellies ache.“ –Burmese

“People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war, or before an election.” –Otto von Bismarck

“People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is ‘You’re safe with me’ - that’s intimacy.” –Taylor Jenkins Reid (From The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo)

“Play taps for my ass, cause it’s dead as hell.” –Unknown Quote

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. (It doesn't matter which one we choose; Equally involved, equally responsible)”

“Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.” –Markus Zusak (From I Am the Messenger)

“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far.” –Theodore Roosevelt

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can” –Arthur Ashe

“Take nothing but pictures; Leave nothing but footprints; Kill nothing but time.” –Caver’s Creed

“Take with a pinch of salt (Don’t completely believe what’s told).”

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.” –Richard Bach

“The end of one thing is only the beginning of another.” –Unknown

“The family is a haven in a heartless world.” –Attributed to Christopher Lasch

“The helper seeks to help others because he knows what it is to be helpless.” –’ Zen’ Wander (From Wander Over Yonder)

"The million-dollar question: Why aren't we kinder? The second million-dollar question: How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less

delusional?" –George Sanders

“The need for a body of common knowledge and common reference ...grows more necessary so that people of different origins and occupation may quickly find common ground and, as we say, speak a common language...it also ensures a kind of mutual confidence and good will. One is not addressing an alien, blank as a stone wall, but a responsive creature whose mind is filled with the same images, memories, and vocabulary as oneself.” —Jacques Barzun

“The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them.” –Marilyn Monroe

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!” –Roosevelt

“The only time you should look in your neighbor's bowl is to make sure you have enough.” –Louie CK

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” –Albert Camus

“The sacrifice which causes sorrow to the doer of the sacrifice is no sacrifice. Real sacrifice lightens the mind of the doer and gives him a sense of peace and joy. The Buddha gave up the pleasures of life because they had become painful to him.” –Mahatma Gandhi

“The secret of a good memory is attention, and attention to a subject depends upon our interest in it. We rarely forget that which has made a deep impression on our minds.” —Tryon Edwards

“The secret to humor is surprise.” –Aristotle

“The surplus wealth of the few will become, in the best sense, the property of many, because administered for the common good.” –Andrew Carnegie

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” –G.K. Chesterson

"The word 'why' not only taught me to ask, but also to think. And thinking has never hurt anyone. On the contrary, it does us all a world of good." –Anne Frank

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.” –Ernest Hemingway From A Farewell To Arms

“There is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offender has time to realize who it is that strikes him, and why retribution had come upon him.” –Jefferson Hope From Sherlock’s Adventures

“There will be something you hate in every job. The trick is finding a job where you love the good parts enough to make up for the crappy parts.” –post

“There’s a name for you ladies, but it isn’t used in high society… outside of a kennel.” –Crystal (From The Women of 1939)

“Though we tremble before uncertain futures… may we dance in the face of our fears.” –Gloria Anzaldua

“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.” –Elie Wiesel (From Night)

“Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l’admire (A fool always finds a fool to admire him).” – Sherlock Holmes (French translation)

“We’re taught Lord Acton’s axiom: all power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely[...] I believed that when we started these books, but I don’t believe it’s always true anymore. [...] What I believe is always true about power is that power always reveals. When you have enough power to do what you always wanted to do, then you see what the guy always wanted to do.” –Robert A. Caro

“We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.” –Joseph Roux

“What we have done to ourselves alone, dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” –Brother Albert Pike

“When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” –Henry Ford

“When you wish upon a star, you’re a few million light years late. That star is dead. Just like your dreams.” –Unknown

“When you’re a brat, running fast is enough to make you popular. When you’re a middle-schooler, the guys who can fight will be popular, and after that it’s the guys with brains who can get the girls.” –Master of Protagonist (From The Fruit of Grisaia)

“Where we love is home –home where our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” –Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

“Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something.” –Plato

“You are the company you keep.” –Unknown

“You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul" –Chef Gusteau (From Ratatouille)

“You walk around a drunk, you get a tired drunk. Splash ‘em with water, you get a wet drunk. Give ‘em a coffee, you’ve got a wide-awake drunk…” –Unknown

#quotes #sayings #everything associated honestly #some I need to review

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adalines · 4 years

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* an introduction to adaline ülker

hey there! i go by ari -- i’m a twenty - four year old dumbass who uses he and him pronouns. today i will be your guide on the journey to understand who adaline ülker is. also, i was born and raised in northern mexico. english is not my first language, so i apologize beforehand for any mistakes.

shh ! adaline ülker, the twenty - one year old third year political science major from london, england, is known as a diamond around here. she was invited to join because she won an impressive debate opposite a third year on her first year, and now, they’re here to stay. she reminds me of jewels passed down through several generations, the faint, yet ever present scent of chanel #5, and knowing your worth.

the family.

ülker family. the ülkers have been a prominent family in turkey for generations, in fact, they can trace their family tree back to turkish nobility, and one of the sultans. when the ottoman empire dissolved, so did titles. nowadays, the dynasty is mainly known for their international businesses, and substantial wealth.

a second son, cenk ülker knew that while the profits would be evenly split, the chair as head of the ulker dynasty would go to his older brother when his father passed, he decided he did not want to fade into the background. he wanted a name for himself too. with the charisma, and money to back him up, it wasn ‘ t long before he was appointed ambassador of the republic of turkey to the united kingdom.

only child. adem ülker was born in london. he attended strathmore university in guildford, england. it is there where he met his wife, celine de beauharnais. a french girl from a well off family. though details of how and where they met often change when they tell the story, their anniversary gift never changes. pearls for celine, and something encrusted with a garnet for adem.

the individual.

third child. only daughter. adaline ülker is born from the union of garnet and pearl. the ulkers are well established in london ‘ s high society. she has never wanted for anything, nor has she been encouraged to pursue anything other than being a respectable lady of society.

always well groomed, and put together. adaline tends to wear timeless clothes and accessories. her look can be described as preppy. silky hair that curls at the bottom, headbands, pleated skirts, cashmere sweaters. great grandmother ‘ s pearls resting on her neck. she gives importance to quality and durability rather than trends.

while her brothers were encouraged to dream big, and reach for the stars --- adaline was encouraged to dream about her wedding, and her future husband. while her brothers were instrued in the world around them, she was taught the difference between cream and bone toned fabric napkins, and the occasion that calls for each.

adaline was a pretty observant child. and if she ever learned something growing up, is to play her part, and play the game. surrounded by her politician father, and diplomat grandfather, she has learned that you can navigate both politics, and high society with the same set of rules.

never show others her true feelings or emotions. for they can be used against her. she behaves in a level headed, calculated way.

there is a drive in adaline that both of her brothers lack. it stems from the need to prove a point. anything they can do, i can do better. she has the potential to be someone in this life, and she ‘ s not going to throw it away to become someone ‘ s wife, like her mother did.

there is a kinship amongst high society that outsiders will never understand. adaline tends to always be well informed, and well connected. she somehow always seems to know what's happening around her, no matter how trivial it is. gossip is considered both a weapon and a bonding tool.

closeness with old money peers only. her equals. people that belong in the same circle. people who understand. as an aspiring politician, and an ulker, adaline can interact and maintains friendships with almost anyyone, but she knows where to draw the line when it comes to close friendships.

that all being said, she does have feelings, and a temper. when a social inferior oversteps boundaries, she knows how to put them in place. on such occasions, being the outlet of pent up emotion, she can be needlessly cruel.

she ’ s the only ülker sibling to get into strathmore. that is, without her father making a call to the dean, followed by a generous donation. as a type a, she won ‘ t take anything less than a perfect report card.

the society.

generations of beauharnais men and women have walked the hallowed halls of strathmore, and there are more than one members up the family tree that claim to have spent some time at the opal manor.

as children of adem ülker and celine beauharnais, the new generation of ülkers were under the society ‘ s watchful eye as soon as they stepped foot on campus.

however, they were quite unimpressed with the first two siblings. wesley, the eldest, did not make it through instruction. mason had been too freaked out by the animal masks to accept the invitation. there were not many hopes for the third ülker - beauharnais.

as a freshman in strathmore, adaline had to beat the name her brothers had made for the family. very laissez - faire. wesley a brutish jock, and mason some sort of indie stoner. she joined every club that would look good in her curriculum. some of those clubs she didn ‘ t necessarily care about that much, but some others she was very passionate about.

it was in one of these later clubs that she first met her predecessor. the debate team. adaline was one of the few first years who joined the club, and the only first year to win opposite a senior member of the club.

the passion, and eloquence on the subject she won at was what put her back on the watch list. adaline ülker, back on the radar.

all of last year was a lot. under her diamond predecessor ‘ s tutelage she navigated, and flourished into the society ‘ s customs. she considers it an honour to have learned what she knows from her predecessor, and to continue with the diamond legacy. she loves the society, and what it means. you are better than everyone else.

this year she ‘ s back. she ‘ s back as a fully fledged member of the opal society and she couldn ‘ t be more proud. she has plans for her prodigy, and she has a vision for the diamond lineage.

it probably is no secret that adaline has wanted to become a diadem since her first year as a prodigy, when she learned what a diadem is. now that poppy is . . . gone , she knows that she has what it takes, and will do what is needed in order to secure it.

as for the new prodigies, beware. she believes that only the best of the best deserve a spot amongst the opals, so prove your worth. money, and status, along with networking might influence her opinion --- but that is not all that it comes down to.

connections. i would just like to say that these are the connections i wrote for the application, and that more connections will be coming soon !

the circlet. while i’m not sure what personalities adaline will encounter, i’m very sure that most probably not everyone will like her, and she definitely will not like everyone. however, being a part of the same circlet does hold value to her. while you may not always like your family, you ‘ re still family.

the prodigy. this person may not be a social equal to their opal. surprisingly, they were not chosen as a prodigy because of their name, or social standing, but because adaline recognized something of herself in this person. talent, and ambition. adaline has taken it upon herself to polish this prodigy, her very own diamond in the rough and prepare them for when they become an opal. she wants make them a better version of themselves ( which is to say, a clone of her. )

becoming diadem. . with poppy out of the picture, this is up in the air and up for grabs. which is very convenient for the diamond. maybe people think that ada had something to do with poppy ‘ s disappearance. or maybe someone else in the circlet has the same ambition, and it could become, well, politics.

the ruby. you may be wondering, how does the ruby tie into all of this? well, adaline tries to be on the best of terms with everyone in her circlet. after all, they have to have each other ' s backs, right? that ‘ s why when she inevitably finds out about their little secret, diamond is quick to sympathize with ruby --- she understands, or so she says. the heart wants what it wants. she is also quick to let her fellow opal know that what her heart wants is to make sure she can count on their vote to become diadem.

#◞ 💎 * 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐮̈𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 : introduction #opalsintro #enjoy and you ' re welcome #kithes

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ace-and-aro-wlw-positivity · 4 years

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What’s New LGBTQ Inktober x Tumblr Official Hauntober Day 10:

Love x Forest

Halloween is a time to celebrate spooky things, many of which are rooted in tradition and culture. It’s important during the month of October to recognize how we consume our horror media and how different culture’s traditions affect this season.

Growing up in the 2000s meant that I and many of my fellow peers had access to streaming services such as Netflix and Hulu from the early days of our childhood. I remember when Netflix was basically ordering Block Buster right to your door (yes, we actually had to wait for the disks to arrive in the mail), and then when it was all the rage to when you could download the Netflix app on your Nintendo Wii. Looking at the content they provide and produce now opens up a whole new world of content from around the world that we wouldn’t be able to access via heading to our local movie theater.

It was through this streaming service that I was able to view the movie centered around today’s Inktober/Hauntober mashup prompts: The Forest Of Love. If you’re interested to hear my thoughts on media from different cultures, specifically Japan, services of streaming like Netflix and how they open up new doors that traditional movie companies could never, and delving into the white-washing of the True Crime genera, then click on, but readers beware: you’re in for a scare.

When I was in second grade I had to do a report on a famous person and I picked R.L. Stein, and I think that is singlehandedly the reason I’m Like ThisTM.

Growing up, I only had access to novels or I guess “short stories” such as Goosebumps readily available in my library and written in my mother tongue. There was no desire to read anything else because there was no knowledge of anything else. Perhaps I assumed that kids around the world were reading his novels- and maybe they were! But I never took into consideration how easy I had it when such popular and famous books were written in the only language I knew how to read or speak.

I’ve never been to the movies to see any foreign film. Quite frankly, unless it was a new Marvel or Star Wars movie, chances are I didn’t go at all. The only subtitles I read back then were in Captain America: The First Avengers when the bad guys were speaking. I never had an interest in watching anything not in English or produced in country that wasn’t Europeanicized in some way- although now I know better and realize that a lot of non-European countries have been Europeanicized, and very much not in a good way.

My initial impression of Japanese media was probably the same as a lot of people my age at that time: “Isn’t anime just girls with too-big boobs doing school-girl things sexualized for the male gaze?” Obviously I know that’s not the case now, but Japan has different taboo subjects than over here in America, and some of those things are blatant sexualization of women/girls in media. This movie was no different. There is no way that an AMC here would show content like that in theaters here- but Netflix is different. We’ve seen lately how far Netflix can (and sadly will) push the boundaries of what is and isn’t taboo.

I think that I, along with a lot of other murderinos out there, can credit to the booming trend of true crime media on streaming services like Netflix and Hulu for my new obsession. Through movies and shows like “Making a Murderer”, “The Staircase”, “The Disappearance of Madeleine McCann”, “My Friend Dahmer”, “Mindhunter”, “Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile”, one thing has always stuck out in my mind: the whiteness of it all. No one wants to hear another story about Dahmer or BTK or Bundy- we want serial killers and true crime cases we’ve never heard of, and a lot of those lie outside of North America, Europe, Canada, and Australia, the four main areas that the podcasts I listen to tend to focus on. So to be honest, learning about a Japanese case was refreshing: it was new, it was interesting.

There were strange themes reminiscent of Japanese culture sprinkled throughout the film, from actual cultural practices and sterotypes portrayed in the film to the themes of the sexualization of young women. If it was made in America, it would have been a different film.

Personally, knowing nothing about the case or the film before watching it, I can’t say I wasn’t lost. Some parts seemed to make sense in some way, and some parts were standard for building a story, like flashbacks revealing reasons for characters actions and more. There was one part in particular where neither my partner nor I were able to discern how certain character’s attitudes did a 180 from one scene to another, however I do understand that not every scene filmed goes into every movie or show, and there is actually a “deep cut” version of this movie cut up into sections. I am unsure of what that entails and quite frankly I didn’t enjoy the movie enough to pursue more of the fictionalized story.

The ending was confusing to me, I didn’t really enjoy the movie as said above, and I don’t feel like I really got a feel for the true events it was based on, however I’m sure that my American upbringing has a lot to do with that. On the other hand, it was nice to be able to consume a piece of serial killer media that didn’t feel overdone and overtold simply because the people involved were white or European/American. It’s no secret that true crime is white-washed, but with the times where you no longer have to wait for a disk in the mail to watch a movie comes a time where small, independent creators are more empowered than ever, and with the rise in popularity of podcasts and YouTube videos comes more diverse and targeted entertainers, topics, and audiences.

#whatsnewinktober #whatsnew lgbtq #inktober 2020 #inktober #hauntober 2020 #hauntober #true crime #movie review #serial killers #streaming services #mod jane doe #cultural talks

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windingriverherbals · 5 years

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COMMON NAME: primrose GENUS: Primula SPECIES, HYBRIDS, CULTIVARS: P. denticulata-lavender, purple, or white flowers; grows to 12 inches. P. japonica ‘Millar Crimson’-flowers whorled around the 24-inch stem; blooms May-June. P. polyanthus-best known; colors are red, pink, blue, gold, and white, all with small yellow eyes. FAMILY: Primulaceae BLOOMS: spring TYPE: perennial DESCRIPTION: Primroses form an attractive rosette of crinkly, light green leaves. The flowers are generally brightly colored and occur in tight bundles on individual stems above the leaves. CULTIVATION: Needing partial shade, primroses thrive in well-drained, rich soil. They are indigenous to cool, moist meadows and woodland environments Duplicating these conditions as closely as possible will create the best growing conditions for primroses. The soil should not be allowed to dry completely. To retain vigorously blooming plants, divide clumps every four to five years. Seeds should be sown in midsummer for bloom the following spring.

Primrose is beloved by people everywhere but is particularly cherished by the English. Buckner Hollingsworth, in his book Flower Chronicles, proclaims that “England displays a rose on the royal coat of arms, but she carries a primrose in her heart.” Primrose is a symbol of early youth, and to walk down the primrose path meant a life of pleasure and self-indulgence. According to English folk legends, the primrose was a symbol of wantonness. The word primrose also thought to mean “most excellent.” The name primrose is from the Latin word primus, meaning “first,” and was given to this plant because it is among the first flowers to bloom in spring. Common names for the plant abound. In Germany it is known as Himmelschusslechen, meaning “little keys to heaven.” Other names similar to this include our Lady’s key, marriage key, the key flower, Virgins’ key, and Saint Peter’s keys. It was thought that primrose had the magical power to open treasure chests, or even better, to open rocks to reveal hidden treasure. The references to keys stem from the resemblance of the cluster of flowers to a bunch of keys. According to a German legend, Saint Peter heard a rumor that some wayward souls were trying to slip into the backdoor of heaven rather than enter through the Pearly Gates. He got so upset he dropped the keys to heaven, and where they landed on earth, they grew into primroses. Other names for primrose refer to a mystical connection with fairies and elves and include such appellations as fairy flower, fairy cup, or fairy basins. Fairies were thought to take shelter under primrose leaves during a rainstorm. Cowslip is a favorite English name for the primrose. Although there is some question as to how the plant came to be known by this name, most people agree that cowslip probably came from cow slop. Since the plants grew abundantly in fields, the superstition arose that they must have sprung from cow dung.

Primroses have been used since medieval times to cure a wide variety of ailments. Called herba paralysis, it was considered good for those suffering from gout. According to a fourteenth-century herbal, to “put the juice of ‘primerose’ into a man’s mouth would restore lost speech.” Mountain climbers in Switzerland carried the primrose root for its supposed power to combat vertigo. The plant has also been used to cure convulsions, hysteria, neck and muscular pains, and coughs. Water distilled from an infusion of leaves and flowers was said to be good for “pain in the head from a cold, the biting of mad dogs, and woman that beareth a child.” Eating primrose leaves in a salad was thought to be good for arthritis. A book on household remedies published in 1898 suggested that an ointment made from primrose leaves would be good on burns and ulcers. In addition to its use as a medicine, primrose has also enjoyed quite a reputation as a beauty aid. Culpeper, a seventeenth-century English physician, wrote that “our city dames know well enough the ointment or distilled water of it {primrose} adds to the beauty, or at least restores it when it is lost.” Ointment from the common English cowslip, P. veris, was used to remove spots and wrinkles from the face. Primrose was used as a rouge. It was thought that the leaf if rubbed on the cheek of a fair-skinned woman, would cause a red glow. Primrose can also be used in the kitchen. The leaves and flowers are eaten raw in salads, or they can be mixed with other herbs and used to stuff poultry. The leaves and flowers add flavor and color to many foods, particularly egg or custard dishes. Tea can be made from dried or fresh petals. Steep the petals in boiling water for several minutes, strain, and enjoy. Juice from the flowers can also be made into tasty country wine, jams, jellies, and preserves. Pickles and conserves were also made from the blossoms. In the 1880s, April 19 in England was declared Primrose Day. This was in honor of Benjamin Disraeli {English prime minister from 1874 to 1880}, for the primrose was his favorite flower and this was his birthday.

Primrose is considered the flower of February.

The Victorian Language of Flowers

The language of flowers was quite suited to Victorian England, for it allowed for communication between lovers without the knowledge of ever-present chaperones and parents. Messages that would be a social impossibility if spoken could be conveyed by sending certain types of flowers. How these flowers were sent was of great importance as well, for this was also part of the message. If the blossom was presented upright, it carried a positive thought. If the flower came upside down, it might mean quite the opposite. If the giver intended the message to refer to himself, he would incline the flower to the left. If the message referred to the recipient, it would be inclined toward the right. If flowers were used to answer a question and were handed over with the right hand it meant “yes’; with the left hand, the answer was “no.” Other conditions of the plant were important as well. For example, if a boy sent a girl a rosebud with the leaves and thorns still on it, it meant ” I fear, but I hope.” If the rosebud was returned upside down, it meant, “you must neither fear nor hope.” If the rosebud was returned with the thorns removed, the message was “you have everything to hope for.” If the thorns were left but the leaves removed, the message was “you have everything to fear.” If the young lady kept the rosebud and placed it in her hair, it meant “caution.” If she placed it over her heart, the message was clearly “love.” The Victorians took the language of flowers a bit further and actually began attributing personalities to various flowers, as Thomas Hood exemplified:

The cowslip is a country wench,

The violet is a nun;-

But I will woo the dainty rose

The queen of everyone.

During the last part of the nineteenth century, several floral dictionaries were published. Among these was The Poetical Language of Flowers {1847}, The Language and Sentiments of Flowers {1857}, The Floral Telegraph {1874}, and Kate Greenway’s The Language of Flowers, first published in 1884 and republished in 1978. Because more than one dictionary existed, the possibility of error was great. One of these floral misinterpretations was famous by Louisa Anne Twamley in her poem “Carnations and Cavaliers.” The poem describes how a knight gave his lady a pink rose, meaning our love is perfect happiness. His lady either did not know about the language of flowers or did not care, for she sent back to him a carnation, which means refusal. The result was the tragedy: the lovers died for each other’s love. It was during the Victorian period that tussie-mussies became popular. A tussie-mussie is a small bouquet of fresh or dried flowers, usually surrounded by lacy doilies and satin ribbons. Tussie-mussies were popular, in part, for the very practical purpose of warding off bad smells and disease. Some of the most useful flowers for this purpose included lavender, rosemary, and thyme. Tussie-mussies made marvelous gifts then, and they still do. They are easy to make, and, accompanied by a card explaining the meanings of the flowers used, make a uniquely personal present. Tussie-mussies can be made from either fresh or dried flowers. Choose a relatively large, perfect blossom for the center flower. A perfectly formed rose blossom is wonderful for this. Surround this with smaller blossoms and ferns and put the stems through a doily or starched lace. If using fresh flowers, wrap the stems with damp paper towels and then cover them with plastic wrap or foil held in place with florist tape. If using dried flowers, simply wrap the stems with florist tape. Fresh flowers that are good to use in tussie-mussies include rose, baby’s breath, cornflower, phlox, aster, and carnation. Suitable dried flowers include strawflower, statice, honesty, ageratum, and sedum.

Flowers and Their Meaning

alyssum, sweet: worth beyond beauty

amaranth, globe: immortality, unfading love

amaryllis: pride

anemone, garden: forsaken

aster: elegance and daintiness, the talisman of love

bachelor’s button: celibacy

begonia: beware! I am fanciful

bellflower {white}: gratitude

bluebell: constancy, delicacy, and humility

carnation {pink}: the floral emblem of Mother’s Day

carnation {purple}: antipathy and capriciousness

carnation {red}: admiration

carnation {striped}: refusal

carnation {white}: pure and ardent love, the good-luck gift to a woman

carnation {yellow}: disdain

Christmas rose: relieve my anxiety

chrysanthemum {red}: I love

chrysanthemum {white}: truth

chrysanthemum {yellow}: slighted love

clematis: mental beauty, ingenuity

cockscomb: affectation

columbine {purple}: resolved to win

columbine {red}: anxious and trembling

columbine: cuckoldry and deserted lover, a bad-luck gift to men

coreopsis: always cheerful

crocus: abuse not

crocus {spring}: youthful gladness

crocus, saffron: mirth

cyclamen: diffidence, a bad-luck gift to a woman

daffodil: regard

dahlia: instability

daisy: innocence, gentleness

daisy, garden: I share your sentiments

day lily: coquetry

fern: fascination

fern, maidenhair: discretion

flax: a domestic industry

forget-me-not: true love, forget me not

foxglove: insincerity

fritillary, crown: majesty, power

fuschia: taste, amiability

geranium: folly and stupidity

geranium, scarlet: comforting

geranium, wild: piety

gladiolus: you pierce my heart

heliotrope: devotion

hibiscus: delicate beauty

hollyhock: ambition

honesty: honesty

hyacinth: sport, game, play

impatiens: refusal and severed ties

iris: message, faith, wisdom, and valor

iris, German: flame

Jasmine {white}: amiability

jasmine {yellow}: timidity and modesty

larkspur: an open heart and ardent attachment

lily {orange}: hatred

lily {white}: sincerity and majesty

lily of the valley: purity and humility

marigold: disquietude and jealousy

morning glory: farewell and departure

narcissus: egotism and conceit

nasturtium: conquest and victory in battle

pansy: thoughtful recollection

peony: healing

petunia: anger and resentment

phlox: sweet dreams and proposal of love

poppy: eternal sleep and oblivion

primrose: early youth and young love

rose {pink}: our love is perfect happiness

rose {red}: love and desire

rose {white}: charm and innocence

rose {white and red}: unity

rose {yellow}: infidelity and jealousy

rosebud: beauty and youth

rose, withered: fading beauty, reproach

Saint John’s wort: suspicion and superstition

sedum: lover’s wreath

snapdragon: presumption and desperation

snowdrop: hope and consolation

sunflower: homage and devotion

sweet pea: departure and adieu

tiger lily: wealth and pride

tuberose: dangerous pleasures

tulip: a symbol of the perfect lover

verbena: may you get your wish

violet: modesty and simplicity

wallflower: friendship in adversity

yarrow: disputes and quarrels

zinnia: thoughts of absent friends

Botanical Names

The Victorian language of flowers is sometimes easier to understand than the botanical nomenclature that is assigned to every plant. This method of naming is based on the work done by Carolus Linnaeus {1707-1778}, who established three categories: genus, species, and varieties. Most of these names are from Latin though other languages are represented as well. Although the common names are undoubtedly more fun to use and perhaps easier to remember, the botanical names are indispensable for precise and efficient communication about plants. Many of the botanical names are based on quirks and characteristics of the plants, or on where {or by whom} they were first found growing. The following is a list of commonly used species names and their meanings.

africanus: of Africa

agrarius: of the fields

agustus: majestic or noble

albus: white

allianthus: with beautiful flowers

amoenus: pleasing

annuus: annual

aurantiacus: orange colored

aureus: golden

belladonna: beautiful lady

bellus: beautiful

biennis: biennial

biflorus: twinned flower

caeruleus: dark blue

campestris: of the fields

canadensis: of Canada

coccinea: scarlet

elegans: elegant

flava: yellow

fragilis: fragile

grandiflora: large-flowered

japonica: of Japan

nobilis: of fine appearance

officinalis: used in the apothecary shop

patens: spreading

purpurea: purple

repens: creeping

splendens: showy

tinctoria: used by dyers

Names and Meanings of Flowers

Floral communication is at least as old as the Golden Age of Greece. According to Greek and Roman myths, many gods, goddesses, and innocent nymphs were transformed into various flowers which, in turn, took on the characteristics of these personages. For example, narcissus is named for the Greek youth who spent his days looking at his own reflection, and now this plant is a symbol of egotism. Another example is of hyacinth, which, the myths tell us, grew out of the blood of Hyacinthus, a young man who loved sports and games. Hyacinth is now a symbol of sports, games, and play. The Greeks used flowers extensively in their ceremonies and in their day-to-day lives. Though they apparently conveyed messages by sending different flowers in a bouquet or garland, we can only guess which flowers had which meanings for them. Floral symbols seem to have been used by the early Chinese, Assyrians, Egyptians, and Indians. According to The Mystery and Magic of Trees and Flowers, by Lesley Gordon, the first mention of English floral symbols was during the reign of Elizabeth I {1533-1603.} William Hunnis, an English poet, wrote verses that included the phrases “gillyflowers are for gentleness,” and “marigolds is for marriage,” and “cowslips is for council.” It was the Turks in the late seventeenth century who truly developed the art of communicating with flowers. They could convey almost any sentiment using different flowers. Displeasure, love, compassion, forgiveness friendship and countless other feelings could be sent by means of a bouquet of flowers. The language of flowers was introduced to England in the early 1700s by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, wife of the English ambassador to Turkey. On March 16, 1718, Lady Montagu wrote to a friend in England telling her that the “fair maidens of the East have lent a mute speech to flowers.” Enthralled with this custom, Lady Montagu published her Turkish Letters in 1763, explaining the floral symbolism for many different kinds of flowers. The custom caught on and appealed to romantics throughout the country. In the early 1800’s the poet Thomas Hood wrote that “sweet flowers alone can say what passion fears to reveal.”

Primrose is Considered the Flower of February. COMMON NAME: primrose GENUS: Primula SPECIES, HYBRIDS, CULTIVARS: P. denticulata-lavender, purple, or white flowers; grows to 12 inches.

#February #Flowers and Their Meanings #Primrose Plants #Victorian Language of Flowers

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