#but is change not beautiful. can monstrosity not be considered love

[koukaaa-descent]

to all the stories that end with the monster becoming human DIE DIE DIE DIE (CLAWS UP YOUR WALLS) STOP!!!! STOP THAT!!!!!!

[edges-of-night]

Hi hi💕 I was wondering if you could do how the characters would react to having a vampire partner? Like how they handle reader needing blood and unable to be in sunlight

Also I love your work so much💕

Thank you for your kind words ♡ This is such an interesting and spooky idea haha! I went with a classic vampire who’s still somewhat pre-Christianity, if that makes sense. I hope you enjoy your post!

CW: bloodsucking

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn would treat you with the same respect he extends to any creature. He knows and appreciates your physical strength and special powers. Being a ranger, he’d have no trouble finding a gorgeous little cave for the two of you to stay in to avoid the sunlight. He would either help you hunt animals for blood or offer his own, depending on your preference. One thing is for certain: you won’t lack anything with someone as considerate as Aragorn.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen had read about vampiristic creatures in her books before and is brimming with excitement when you tell her your secret – previously, you’ve only visited her on her balcony at night. From now on, you’d share beautiful nights under the moonlight and playful games with your fangs. Arwen would also play games with you that include counting, to ease your thoughts toward that compulsion. You’d slip into a romantic relationship very easily.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir has great respect for your powers – sometimes, he is even a bit afraid of the things you can do. Though he is wary of monsters and struggles to understand your specific needs at first, your vampiristic nature would grow on him so much that he’d eventually ask you to turn him – sharing an immortal life with you is just too tempting. He’d also tease you with garlic, in a very playful way.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond is a man of rules and habits – and even having an untamable vampire as a partner doesn’t change that. When he learns of your vulnerability against sunlight, he reschedules his days to spend time with you by night instead. He also creates a bloodsucking routine for the two of you. Letting you drink from his neck or wrist is no big issue for him due to his healing powers. He always makes sure you feed on time and hides the bite marks with his long clothes.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer is very wary around you at first. However, your striking beauty, elegant demeanour and immense powers soon bewitch him. You two could communicate without a single word, as he’d read every wish straight from your eyes. He will steal you away for nightly horseback rides where the two of you can truly be free from everybody else’s expectations.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn strikes me as a person who would, upon first encountering a vampire, try to fight them. I feel like she would have an ‘enemies to lovers’ kind of thing with a vampire partner: learning of your incredible powers, helping you get through hard times, and eventually bonding over your similarities. Éowyn develops great empathy for your ‘monstrosity’ and that both of you simply want to live freely. Together, you can do just that!

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Faramir worships you no matter what – he is a stronghold for your self-esteem in a world that deems you monstrous. He is very weak for your fangs and practically begs you to drink his blood instead of settling for that of an animal, even if that poses no problem for you at all. He adores learning some of your vampiric magic and spells. He considers meeting you his greatest luck and would surely ask you to turn him eventually!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would be extraordinarily mischievous when it comes to his vampire partner. He’d adore to plan pranks with you to scare unsuspecting Hobbits (and Merry and Pippin, too!), baring your fangs at them with a snarl and raised claws – and he’d also find your bloodlust amusing. With him, there is never any shortage of animal blood. And on special nights, he’ll let you drink some of him ♡

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel would instantly bond over how similar you are in your demeanour, humour, and language. She is delighted to find her telepathy even more powerful when used with an immortal. By day, she’d have her best quarters ready for you, and by night, you two could hardly be seen separate. With the help of her magic mirror, you would finally be able to see your reflection again, which makes her very happy. She also has a huge weakness for your claws!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf doesn’t believe you at first when you tell him you’re a vampire. You’re his sweetheart – surely he would’ve noticed something so fundamental about you! He hasn’t, because he was so enamoured. So in the days after that, he’ll try and use several (mostly harmless) spells to ‘test’ that statement. He of course finds you were being truthful and is overjoyed – a magical creature, from before this age – he’d be incredibly happy to have an immortal being just like himself!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

As a vampire, life in a Dwarven mountain city or a dark mine would suit you very well – no sunlight, no disrespectful outsiders, just you and Gimli living your best lives. He is very smitten with your regal beauty and mysterious demeanour. Gimli also clearly wins the award for ‘best vampire meet-cute’ when he accidentally digs into your cave: “Oh! Blasted bats! Argh – what? Are you…? Oh, just a cave of bats, lads! Nothing to see here!”

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Though he tries not to let it show, Haldir is immensely fascinated with your vampirism. He grants you shelter in the shadowy forests of Lórien and turns a blind eye to you sucking the blood of its animals. He connects to you on a deep level, relating to your outsider status in normal society. You bond over your perceived differences. Haldir also cherishes that you are both ageless and can be together forever, should you desire so!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

With his Elven healing powers, Legolas is very adamant about you sucking his blood. No second-class animal blood on his watch – only the best for you! He cherishes you very much and enjoys the intimacy bloodsucking provides, be it chaste and cuddly or exciting and spicy. But I think, as much as he loves your vampiristic qualities, he would not share your true identity with anyone – for that, you are far too special to him ♡

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Though he is initially a bit careful around you, Merry is very enthusiastic about being your partner. He even is proud to have such a peculiar significant other – so much so that he brags about you being a “gorgeous, mysterious night predator”! He definitely has a thing for your white fangs and bat wings.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Once Pippin finds out about you being a vampire, he cannot and will not shut up about you turning into a bat. Watching you transform and fly through the night sky is his biggest joy. In a quiet moment, he’d tell you how much he’d love to fly, too. He’d have absolutely no problem being turned into a vampire himself, though he isn’t blind to the disadvantages that come with it.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

After his initial time of adjusting to your special needs, Sam would definitely win an award for being the best boyfriend to a vampire – he’d substitute garlic in his cooking, builds you a giant parasol (so that you can still partake in Hobbiton’s social life), and helps you getting ready before you despair about not being able to see yourself in the mirror. He’s incredibly considerate and always makes sure you’re comfortable!

[theamityelf]

Do you have anymore insight into more of Makoto and Kamamkurized Taka? I'm not saying Taka's love for Makoto could get obsessive but... 👀

Oh, absolutely!

Taka sees this normal human who was dumped amongst the experimental abominations, this innocent sacrifice laid before false gods, and he has to protect him. At first, it's not a personal thing; it's a rejection of what the scientists are saying by placing him here. That he's expendable, that he's inferior. Taka believes that what Makoto stands for is worthy of defending, but at first he doesn't feel capable of experiencing any emotional partiality towards him in particular.

He makes sure Makoto is safe from the others.

For his part, Makoto is both amazed and horrified by what was done to his friends. Horrified, most obviously, but he's still amazed when they do incredible things so casually. They find his reactions stimulating (just picture a bunch of bright crimson eyes staring at him from every direction; a bunch of uncannily slouching bodies gracefully maneuvering around him), and Taka is entranced by the pure human emotion.

In particular, Makoto's sadness for who they used to be and what they lost.

First of all, Taka loves that this grief proves that he cared about his friends for who they were and not what they could do. If he cared only for their talent, he would celebrate the change. Who doesn't want a pop sensation who can hit higher notes and never tire of concerts? Yet Makoto misses things about them that kept them from perfection.

And second of all, the persisting faith that exists within the sadness! A lot of them tell him point blank that his friends are gone, that only the Izuru Kamukura Project remains in their bodies. He doesn't agree. He insists that his friends still exist in some form, within them.

Taka of course tells him that he can't accept the name of the one who came before him, and asks Makoto to call him by his number, but in those moments that Makoto initially forgets and then corrects himself, he feels the temptation to just take the name, the identity, the friendship. Kiyotaka Ishimaru is gone, but something lives in his body, something which would devote itself fully to being a person if he was just allowed to be. When Makoto tells him about Kiyotaka Ishimaru, and the elements of him that he believes are still alive, he is so tempted.

"You would study together?" the experiment says. He maintains perfect posture, sitting and standing, but his head he angles down, as if to hide his face. He speaks inflectionlessly, but forcefully. Makoto says Ishimaru spoke loudly, too. "For class?"

"Yeah, pretty often. Sometimes in my room, sometimes his, sometimes in the library."

He likes imagining it. Did they struggle together? Help each other? Was Kiyotaka Ishimaru better or worse at math than Makoto? Did he read faster or slower? Did his hand cramp when writing? Did he notice every color in Makoto's eyes and skin like this abomination does?

The group (especially Aoi and Leon) find it entertaining to ask Makoto to do things like peel a fruit or solve a math problem. Just small tasks that they would be able to do effortlessly. For most of them, it's like watching a cat manage to turn a doorknob. Even those of them who don't personally urge him to do things that demonstrate his flaws will stop what they're doing to watch.

Taka watches, but not because he finds it amusing. He finds it beautiful. Human effort, as it should be. He loves Makoto's difficulty peeling an orange, his sluggish long division, his serviceably legible handwriting. His imperfections are worth more than the millions of dollars spent to create these monstrosities. He would– and in fact, earnestly believes they all should –die to protect the way Makoto stumbles over his feet, and the face he makes when he tries to put his thoughts to words.

"You're not abominations," Makoto says firmly. "You're my friends. Old friends or new friends, I don't consider you abominations. Something happened to you that you didn't choose, but you're here now. You're alive, you're real, and you matter as much as anyone else. You're a person."

Taka knows (believes) that Makoto is wrong, but that's alright. Being wrong about things is part of his humanity. Humans can form bonds with all kinds of things– even soulless experiments. It doesn't matter that Makoto is wrong, because his misplaced faith is so human.

Makoto is so human.

As much as Taka knows that Makoto should be among humans, under the sun instead of the laboratory lights, he finds himself becoming just as protective of Makoto's place among them as of Makoto himself.

The thought of Makoto leaving agitates him in ways he cannot justify.

Even if the scientists told him that they were letting Makoto go, sending him back to his family, how could he possibly trust them? How could he believe that they won't either turn him into another Kamukura or kill him to keep the story contained?

One day, one of the scientists asks him to forfeit his time with Makoto, in favor of a few hours in reflex testing, and he refuses. He gives no justification and cannot be convinced.

One day, Junko wraps her arms around Makoto, and Taka dislocates her shoulder, getting her off him. He reacts similarly with Byakuya and pretty much anyone who hasn't demonstrated themself to be consistently safe. Chihiro, Kyoko, Mukuro, and Hiro are pretty much the only ones he trusts to touch Makoto, and even then he's very watchful.

"Your loyalty dooms you," he says to him one night. He sits at the foot of Makoto's cot while he sleeps, like a guard dog, and for once, he speaks quietly. Too quietly for Makoto to hear. "It seems as if you wouldn't leave us, even if we could let you."

Kyoko, in her cot, asks, "Does that make you feel better about the fact that you can't?"

"I'm sure he could," Sayaka interjects. "He was the Ultimate Moral Compass in a past life. Temperance comes naturally to him."

"Hagakure?" Chihiro says. "Can Ishimaru let him go?"

"That depends. Did Owada lead with his left foot or his right foot, leaving the bathroom this morning?" (He's joking; he's just not going to answer the question.)

"Hifumi? Have you seen us letting him go?"

"I'm afraid I'm not in this scene."

"Are you all talking to each other?" Makoto whispers, having not heard pretty much any of that.

"Yes," Taka replies. "Don't let it rob you of sleep. Your body needs rest."

"And your body takes pleasure in knowing it," Junko teases. "Isn't he so human? So pure?"

"Not an abomination at all," Aoi joins in the ribbing.

"Well, there's still time."

"We won't allow that," Mukuro says. "There are more than enough people for them to tamper with; they know better than to touch what has been made ours."

"What are you guys talking about?" Makoto asks. Again, not having heard anything since Taka spoke.

"You," Taka replies.

"Wait, really?"

"What else would we discuss? Again, you mustn't let it keep you from your rest."

"Oh, um, okay...Well, good night, guys."

Some of them respond in kind.

"I wonder if they gave him to us to prevent Ishimaru from eventually blowing up the building with all of us inside," Celeste muses.

"I've had the same thought," Aoi says, and a few of their classmates voice their agreement.

Taka ignores them, just watching Makoto drift toward sleep. He drools in his sleep. So flawed. So human. The drool on that pillow is worth more than everyone else in this room.

He knows that love is a human emotion. A thing Makoto experiences for his friends and family. A thing Makoto should one day experience for another normal human, if he ever wants to get married or...

He knows that what he feels is a perversion of the human concept of love, as much as he is a perversion of a human. He knows it, because imagining a normal human for Makoto to love makes him wish death on this imaginary person, and that's a feeling an Ultimate Moral Compass would never have. He wishes Makoto could have had a life with Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the one he studied with, the one who made human mistakes and followed the rules and tried his best always.

But he doesn't need Hagakure's answer as to whether he'll ever let Makoto go. He already knows.

[sebsgirl71479]

Shoot Your Shot  The Sequel

Sebastian Stan X Curvy Actress Reader

A/N Yup im baaaack with a little sequel that i didn't think would happen but here we are. Let see how our beautiful celebrity couple are up to in this story at the Golden Globes. Again reblogs always appreciated and loved. 

Word Count :2006k

Warnings: Fluffy AF, Sexual content, smut 18+ only No Minors 

It had been 4 months since the emmy awards, where you not so subtly asked out Sebastian Stan on live tv. After your wonderful night together just talking and kissing, you both were head of heels for each other. When December rolled around, Sebastian was nominated again for Pam and Tommy, first a Golden Globe then a Critics Choice Award. You were so happy for him, a day after you went with him to his agent's office and what waited for him was a massive bouquet of flowers from the Hollywood foreign press for his nomination. 

“Sebastian, are you sure you're okay walking all the way back home carrying those? We could get a cab if you want.”  “Printesa, I’ll be fine, besides I want to see peoples faces as I walk with this monstrosity in pink.” He giggles a little bit while you picture the streets of New York City watching a 6ft tall man in pink himself no-less carrying a bouquet of pink flowers. 

When you both got back to Sebs’s apartment full of laughter, you started planning your trip to LA next month. You were still on hiatus from ted lasso and Sebastian was in between films at the moment so it was perfect timing. “Baby are we staying at my place or yours when we get to LA?” While you're in Sebastian's closet picking out clothes for him to take to California he comes up behind you to wrap you up in his arms. Placing gentle kisses on your shoulder and neck, humming in content you look over your shoulder into his eyes and just drink them in. He's rocking you back and forth in the closet like there is music playing in both your heads. 

“How about we split our time between both? We can stay at my place just before the golden globes, then after we can go to your place and be ready for the other awards show and beyond.” You turn around to face him and place your hands in his hair to comb through it, Looking deep into his eyes. “I think it’s a great idea, but I have one question? How big is your bathtub?” “Hmmmm, big enough to fit both of us with plenty of room to spare, what do you have planned printesa?” Still swaying back and forth with him just taking him in. “ I was thinking when we land we leave our luggage by the door and spend an hour in a hot, steamy bath to relax and maybe a little something extra?” Wiggling your eyebrows and giving him a sly smile. “I think you have one of the best ideas ever. Now how about we celebrate a little bit tonight with some take out, wine and some dessert?” He winks at you, that's your cue that when he does that you know what he has in mind.

Before you knew it it was new year's day and you both were all packed and ready to head to LA a week before the Golden Globes. You decided to have a lazy night in for new years eve considering you had a 6 am flight the next day. Just the 2 of you, a few glasses of wine and a home cooked meal made by you. When the clock strikes midnight you stood out on Sebastian's balcony and watched the fireworks go off around the city, and a midnight kiss that lasted 2 mins. The perfect way to start 2023 in your opinion. Because of the time change you got to LA around 9am, plenty of time to have that relaxing bath you promised Sebastian. The bathroom was filled with the scent of roses from the bath soaps and candles. Sebastian dimmed the lights to make it more romantic. You sat in front of him while he took a loofa and caressed your body, getting the smell of the airplane off. He abandoned it for his own hands not 5 mins into the bath. You didn't mind it, you preferred it. He started at your shoulders rubbing them and kissing the area afterwards, his new beard he was sporting was tickling you a little bit making you giggle. 

Next he grabbed your chin to have you look at him giving you a strong passionate kiss. Midway you fully turned around and straddled his waist holding on to the back of his head to ground you. You both moan into each other's mouths getting more needy for one another. You rocked your hips back and forth on Sebastian's already hardened cock with how wet you were for him already. “Angel, baby I need you so bad, I need to be inside you right now.”  “Seb, oh baby, make me feel good.” He lifted you up a little bit and you sank down on his cock so easily. Sebastian threw his head back with how good you felt. You melted into him, staying still for a bit to get used to his size. No matter how many times you've had sex with him it takes a min to get used to him. Sebastian lifts his head and rests his forehead against yours. You started to move your hips up and down just enough to not let any water out of the tub.

"Draga, you feel so good, keep it up and we will be done sooner than I expected."  You throw your head back in ecstasy as your organism washes over you in now time. "Oh Sebastian cum for me baby, fill me up." “I’m cumming baby oh god you feel so fucking good. AHHHHH!” You both came together basking in your highs resting your foreheads together. You began to comb your hands through his hair to sooth him, he rubbed your back at the same time. You opened your eyes after your breathing came back to normal, Sebastian was already looking at you. Both of you having a silent conversation looking deep into each other's eyes, Sebastian lifted you up slightly with a little hiss and had you sit sideways in his lap. It was another 10 mins before the water really started to get cold and decided to get out of the tub. 

The rest of the week leading up to the golden globes was spent arranging the makeup artist for you and making sure you and Seb had the right outfits. You also spent days being lazy in his house but also taking in LA by hiking Runyun Canyon a few days and grocery shopping as well. It felt so domestic at times you wondered what it would be like to spend the rest of your life with Sebastian but you put that in the back of your head for another time. Little did you know Sebastian had packed a beautiful diamond engagement ring in his luggage and left it under his bed for the right time. 

The day of the golden globes came and it was super busy at Sebastian's house, even his longtime manager came by to check up on you two to make sure things were running smoothly. By 4pm you both were ready to go to the Beverly Hilton. It would take almost an hour to get there with how LA traffic was. Walking the red carpet with Sebastian as a couple was a huge deal and everyone took the opportunity to tell you and show you when the camera went absolutely crazy when you showed up. You both took pictures together and individually. You entered the ballroom just in time to have dinner served with plenty of champagne for the table. By the time all the plates were taken away the show was beginning to start. While the show was being broadcast you both sat holding each other's hand and never letting go. When they broke for commercials, that's when you both would stand and start talking to a few other actors. Paul Walter Hauser came over and introduced himself to you since he was at the table next to you. Sebastian looked over at you talking to Paul, one of best friends and his heart swelled. You looked like you were having an animated conversation with him and it made him happy.

Paul finally saw Sebastian looking over at you two and smiled. That was his way of saying ‘you have a good one here’ He came over to say hi to Paul and congratulate each other just before the broadcast came back. It was finally time for Sebastians category, you held his hand tight in yours your nerves were so high for him that your leg was bouncing so much he let go of your hand and started rubbing your thigh to calm you. You looked over at him and gave a small smile mouthing him a ‘thank you’. When they announced Evan had won the award you were more disappointed for Sebastian than he was for himself. He felt your body slack after that after being wound tight for the last 5 mins. He took your hand and kissed the back of it. “It's ok baby, it won't be the last one.” “I know sweetheart but I really wanted this for you, but understand I’m just happy you got nominated and are finally getting recognized for the hard work you have been doing.” “Thank you draga, I love you.” I love you too Sebastian.”

The night had been wonderful, at some point during the show you and Sebastian got to speak to Billy Porter you were in heaven. You both went to an after party at the chateau marmot and talked to more celebrities. By the time 1am rolled around you both were tired and ready to head home. Sebastian helped you out of your dress and shoes and you went to steal one of his t-shirts for the dresser. “Baby you looked wonderful tonight but seeing you in my shirt makes me love you even more.” “I only do it because it smells like you and helps me sleep better.” He is only in his dress pants at this moment, you're just taking him all in. Then he starts coming towards you and in no time he has you weak in the knees with a body numbing kiss. After the thought of breathing comes to you both you part with chests heaving staring into each others eyes. Its at this moment that Sebastian has his perfect moment to propose. “Draga, wait right here I have something for you.” Before you have the chance to say anything he is on the other side of the bed taking his luggage out. He comes back with his hands behind his back as he stands less than a foot away from you. 

“Sebastian baby, what is it?” With a big smile on his face he begins to get down slowly on one knee. Your lip is quivering at this moment ready to just ball your eyes out. “Y/N when you asked me out on live tv 5 months ago i knew that when i met you i would never regret it. Tonight I may not have won an award but you won my heart. Y/N Y/L/N  draga will you stand by me for every awards show, every premiere and every other milestone in our lives forever? MARRY ME BABY.”  You look at the beautiful sapphire engagement ring in the black box. Vision blurry which most likely you still have mascara running down your face. You look him in the eye and place your hand on his face with a water smile. “Yes Sebastian, I'll marry you. With all my heart.” He slipped the ring on your finger and you both just held each other for the next 10 mins just basking in the other's warmth and love. Finally parting he held your face in his hands and kissed you so softly and sweetly. 

“I love you y/n so much I can't wait to marry you.” “I love you too Sebastian forever and always.” 

Tag list: @christycurlswrites @buckyalpine @frostironfudge @allandoflimbo @peaches1958​ @altagraye 

[fangirlshrewt97]

Tale As Old As Time... (Part 1)

Can I just say. I love this fandom. I love writing fics for it. I love writing fics for Rambheem. And now, Dhruya too. But @burningsheepcrown, though she pretends to be an angel is actually a demon sent specifically to distract me from my work? And deny you the fics you actually followed me for? 

This isn’t a fic-fic. Or not intended to be. It was NOT supposed to be a story. It wasn’t supposed to be anything. But it turned into a monstrosity I will need to split and share in multiple parts. Look at what I have been reduced to. And does @burningsheepcrown grant me any mercy or compassion? No. She just adds petrol to the raging fire. She’s terrible. Terrible!!!

Anyways, here is a story that started off from her sending me this photo of Jai in Magadheera’s world. So, here is to another Charak Crossover ship, Jai x Kala Bhairava, or Jairava (first proposed by @tuloblurbs​) . I hope it is interesting. For all the big rant above, I did enjoy figuring out the puzzle of this story. 

Here we go. 

Full work Ao3 Link.

(Next Chapter)

///

Let me try to tell you a story. A story of love. A story of betrayal. But most of all, a story of coming to learn and accept a love you don’t believe yourself to be worthy of.

We have a Kala Bhairava at the top of his game, the beloved warrior and protector of the kingdom of Udaigarh. We have the princess, Mithravinda Devi, falling for this man. This beautiful, kind, brave and strong soldier who’s sworn to protect her. We have a king who wishes he could give his daughter her happiness, but a battle lies ahead of them, and he will not see his crown jewel, his most precious treasure, reduced to white sarees and unending grief. We have an enemy, the fierce Sher Khan, at the gate of the kingdom. And we have a story that does not end well for either the soldier or the princess.

Let’s change the story.

Let’s say that the enemy backs down when he sees Kala Bhairava’s bravery in battle, and the honesty in his heart. Who is impressed by the humility and respect he shows him. Let us have the mighty warrior king reconsider, say that he is willing to consider an alternative route other than conquest.

Let us have a petty and rejected princeling seething with jealousy as his rival wins the hearts of all whom he meets, and will now likely marry the princess. Let us have him hatching another plot, go knocking at the door of the tyrant king known for his cruelty and carelessness. The king who cares more for power and wealth than human life.

Let us have Jai as King Raavan, harsh and merciless where his namesake was kind and just. Let us have a man present him with an opportunity to disrupt a meeting that could leave two kingdoms exposed for his taking on a silver platter.

And because life is messy, let us have the compromise Sher Khan and King Vikram include a marriage between Khan’s nephew and Princess Mithravinda. Kala Bhairava is heart broken that even after everything he will not be able to be with his love. But he has sworn an oath on his life and he will not throw away his word. No matter how much Mithravinda begs and pleads and hurts him with her delicate fists. He gets her to see reason, and breaks their hearts in the process. It is necessary, even if it hurts so much.

Let us have Kala Bhairava leading the procession as Mithravinda is escorted to Sher Khan’s palace where the wedding will take place. And let us have Bhairava indulging in a rare drink because he is about to watch his love marry another, lose her forever. Let him be woken up by cries that the princess has been kidnapped. Let news come through that her intended has also been declared missing.

The two kingdoms are up in arms, convinced there is subterfuge and an attempt at trickery by the other to not go through with the treaty. There is foul play where the royal heirs are the pawns.

Let them receive a taunt from the tyrant king, and have both the Royals feel cold sweat run down their spine. If the prince and princess are with the tyrant king… King Vikram cries, sure that his daughter is dead, or lost forever. Sher Khan fumes that another was able to steal his heir from under his own nose, and starts to investigate how this could have happened.

Let us have a Bhairava who refuses to accept that the princess is lost forever. Let us have him volunteers to go retrieve her. King Vikram does not want to see this kind soul die, but he knows in this matter Bhairava will defy him if he is denied. He lets him go.

Let us have Bhairava infiltrate the kingdom of the tyrant king…and he is confused. All he has heard is how this is a place of misery, where babies cries go unattended, and there are more orphans than parents. A place where hope is minimal and temporary, and kindness has no place because everyone is fighting just to survive.

The kingdom, in reality, is just like his own. There is fear in people’s eyes when guards pass by them, but people are living. Children play and babies are laughing, and an old woman gives him one of the two bananas she holds in her hands because she heard his stomach growl.

Bhairava doesn’t understand. He goes to the palace. It is looming, and large, and dark. Painted black and brown, with mosaic glasses that fraction the light entering through them. It feels cold and he feels a shiver run down his back, like he is being watched. He manages to smuggle himself into the dungeons, but doesn’t find his princess. He grows worried.

He heads back out, and bumps into someone, feels a warm hand grasp his elbow in a punishing grip. He bites back the gasp of pain, and when he meets the eyes of his captor, gasps at the way the gaze seems to penetrate to his very core. His brain is screaming at him that he is in danger, that he is facing down a python, a viper, that he will die if he lets it bite. He feels his heart race and his breath stutter. But before either can speak, a crash in the distance provides just enough time for Bhairava to slip away.

His dreams that night are haunted by dark brown eyes. Not the soft ones that look like gold in the sunlight as the Princess’s. The eyes are the black of an abyss, the kind that you cannot escape if you fall into.

Let us have Bhairava eventually finding the princess is being held in the royal quarters, in one of the guest rooms. At night, he climbs the palace facade till he gets the right room and he meets her. Mithravinda throws herself at him, and Bhairava holds her tight. His heart still twists at the sight of her, but even in his head she has reverted back to being his Princess. His duty. Is his heart so fickle?

Before they can escape though, guards enter her room and capture them both. Or, they escape and the alarms are raised. Either way, Bhairava is not fast enough to take her out of the city walls where his most trusted men were awaiting them.

Bhairava and Mithravinda are dragged to the throne room. It is a massive, cavernous space filled with intimidating shadows, where the ministers are hidden inside their niches. Where the fire illuminates a clear path down the aisle to a massive throne. A swing hangs in place of a throne where a lone figure sits in a black kurti and snow white dhoti, with simple golden anklets around his feet, and two chains around his neck. A lone ring glints from his left upper ear. He doesn’t wear a crown. But what fool would not recognize him for what he is?

Bhairava’s heart pounds as his eyes meet the black abyss eyes of the tyrant king. The same ones of the stranger who nearly caught him on his first attempt. The same ones that have been haunting his nights since. The guards lead them till they are at the foot of the stairs from the dais, and make them kneel.

Let’s switch perspectives.

Let’s have Jai looks at these outsiders. One, the princess who is either foolishly brave, or bravely foolish. Who was so adamant that her protector would come and would see Jai’s head roll. Who even now, with a sword scant inches from her throat glares at him, refusing to bow her head. He would almost smile at her viciousness if not for her … companion.

Even surrounded by the enemy, caught trying to kidnap a hostage, knowing he will likely not live to see the sunrise, the man does not looked scared at all. If anything, he looks stunned. At being caught? He had hardly been cautious. Jai himself had let him slip that day by the dungeons. He didn’t quite understand why.

But no, the man does not shift his gaze from Jai even once. Not even to quiet the princess who starts to spew her vitriol.

No matter. A side eye is enough to shut her up. He rises, and he sees his guards stiffen as he descends the dais. Kaaka makes a noise behind him, but his advisor knows better than to confront him so publicly. He stops in front of the soldier, grasping his jaw roughly and forcing him to stretch as Jai yanks him up.

“And what is your name?”

The solider remains silent. Jai raises an eyebrow, squeezing his face. The solider winces. “Bhairava. Kala Bhairava.”

Ahh, the rival that snivelling rat had been trying to get rid of. Well that made sense, no one would choose that coward over this specimen here. Jai looked Bhairava in the eye. Bhairava did not flinch or blink or squirm. He let himself be suspended uncomfortable, neck muscles stretched where Jai held his jaw.

But it was not a passive lamb Jai was holding. No, those eyes burned with a fire Jai could feel in his bones, a need to do the honorable thing, and an innocence he wanted to sink his flesh into and tear apart.

“What were you doing in the princess’s room, Kala Bhairava?”

“Returning her home.”

“Oh?” Jai asked, amused. “You thought you could escape my pa-pa-palace so easily?”

The soldier stayed silent.

He glanced at the princess who had drawn herself up as much as she could in her knees, eyes burning with hatred as she saw how he held the soldier. Interesting.

“Would you die for her, Kala Bhairava?” Jai mused.

“Yes.” came the immediate reply.

Jai smiled, a terrifying smile that had too many teeth. He whipped out his axe from its hiding place within the folds of his clothes, bringing the blade to rest against Bhairava’s throat.

“No!” the princess screamed, a screeching thing that made Jai’s lips curl in disgust.

“Silence! Or I will have you ga-ga-gagged.”

He turned back to the soldier, pressing the blade just a millimeter into the soft skin. Bhairava hissed, but didn’t avert his gaze or close his eyes. Interesting indeed.

The serpent that coiled around Jai’s heart slithered in his chest, a curious spark being lit. Jai wanted to see this man break. See him cry and plead and beg. Beg for Jai. Beg for mercy. Beg for … more. Jai wanted him. It almost surprised him. He couldn’t recall the last person that had captivated him so.

He ran a finger down the other man’s cheekbone, pupils dilating when Bhairava shivered under his touch. He wanted to bite at that plump lip, bruise it. Mark his claim into that lovely neck, cover him in his declaration.

He stepped back, turning his back on the prisoners as he climbed back to sit on his swing.

“Rise, Kala Bhairava.”

The soldier did not stumble or hesitate, rising with the fluidity of a dancer.

Jai wanted to see him in silk clothes. See him decked in golden jewelery that set his dark skin aglow. Weave gemstones and pearls into his hair, clasp anklets with bells that chimed whenever he walked. He wanted to see him bow his head to him, to kneel on his own at Jai’s feet. He wanted to see those lips curve into a smile just for him. And see his back arch as he screamed Jai’s name. God help him, Jai wanted to hear the soldier scream.

“The princess can go.” Jai declared, sending a shock through the room. He saw Kaaka do a double take and try to say something but he raised his hand to quieten the noise. “You are to take her place. Do this, and she is free to go. Try to fi-fi-fight, or esssss-cape, and I will have my men cut you down where you st-stand. And then I will kill her. And then see your kingdom burn.”

“What?!” The princess screeched again and Jai regretted not gagging her. “Bhairava, don’t listen to him. He can’t be trusted.”

The soldier was clearly stunned, mouth dropped open in the most alluring way. Jai’s eyes were glued to him.

An eternity of a minute passed before the solider nodded clunkily. Something dark crowed victoriously in his chest, as Jai smiled his wolfish smile again. “Am I to be your prisoner?”

Jai shrugged, a careless gesture as he lecherously ran his eyes over Bhairava’s figure. “Prisoner, slave, bedwarmer, concubine. You would be mine to do with as I saw fit.”

“How dare you!” The princess spit out. “You will not get away with this.”

Jai’s smirk turned cruel, sending the temperature of the room plummeting. Even the princess stumbled back a step as she was the predator surface for a minute. “What am I doing wrong Princess? I proposed a deal, and he accepted it of his own free will.”

“Bhairava!” The princess pleaded, turning to the soldier.

The soldier paused, glancing at the princess before looking back at him. It was the first time he had looked away from Jai since they had been brought before him. It made Jai’s fist curl at his side. He never wanted those eyes to look away. “What of Sher Khan’s nephew?”

Jai glanced lazily at Kaaka, “Tell the men to drop him off outside the city gates.”

Kaaka’s jaw clenched, the look in his eyes promising an argument. But for now, Kaaka nodded woodenly and walked away.

“How can I know you will keep your word?” The soldier piped up. Jai raised his eyebrow at him. “How do I know you will let them live and you won’t start a war anyways?”

Jai laughed. Or rather, he cackled. “You don’t.”

Let’s switch back.

Bhairava is being presented with too easy a choice. His life, just his life, in exchange for the princess’s safe return? For preventing a war between the kingdoms that would result in so much unnecessary death? So what if he was stripped of his dignity? What if he was subjected to a life of hard labor? For all the man was menacing, nothing he had seen thus far led Bhairava to believe he would actually go back on his word. For some ineffable reason…Bhairava trusted him.

There was nothing to think about, even as Mithravinda was crying to his side.

“I accept your deal.”

That smile again. Bhairava felt his brain screaming again. He felt the skin of his throat still burning, and his jaw aching where that large hand had gripped it. He felt his knees still shaking, but mostly he saw his vision narrowing till the world disappeared except for those dark eyes. He felt hunted. He wanted to run. He was trapped by that gaze.

He was trapped, and he could not regret that decision.

///

TBC…

Also, yeah the song is from Beauty and the Beast, but believe me those lyrics are giving me the exact vibe I want for their relationship. 

Did this style work? I feel like I dropped it half way through...  😅 😅 😅

Feedback is appreciated. 

Tagging (Please please work, Tumblr I beg you):  @rambheem-is-real​ @budugu​ @bromance-minus-the-b​ @junebugyeahhh​ @hissterical-nyaan​ @obsessedtoafault​ @hufhkbgg​ @yehsahihai​ @rorapostsbl​ @bluesolace1​ @fadedscarlets​ @alikokinav​ @chaotic-moonlight​ @rambheemisgoated​ @rambheemlove​ @jaganmaya​ @burningsheepcrown​ @lovingperfectionwonderland​ @rosayounan​ @iam-siriuslysher-lokid​ @thewinchestergirl1208​ @dumdaradumdaradum​ @ronaldofandom​ @jjwolfesworld​ @jrntrtitties​ @kashpaymentsonly​ @jeonmahi1864​ @zackcrazyvalentine​ @stanleykubricks​ @m3gs1mps4a​ @tulodiscord​ @teddybat24​ @sally-for-sally​ @ssabriel​ @jadebomani​ @stuckyandlarrystuff​ @veteran-fanperson​ @ohfuckoffpls​

[gatheringbones]

[“When we reduce fat people to their bodies, to “before and after,” or to bellies and rolls, we come to think of fat people as bodies without personhood. Fat bodies become symbols of disembodied disgust. As in a news report, at the very moment we are meant to be learning about fatness, the conversation is devoid not only of the voices of fat people but of our very faces.

These images—flattened, inhuman—reinforce so much troubling thinking about fat people. Whether background visuals on the news or before and after photos in advertisements, we are more symbol than human. We become effigies, archetypes, morality tales, punchlines, threats, epidemics, but never just people. We are captured, pressed between pages like butterflies, forever frozen to illustrate our anatomies. We do not speak. We do not move. We are only and forever bodies.

Fat people are afforded a voice or a face when our bodies change or when we express the grief, regret, guilt, and shame that thin people imagine must come from having bodies like ours. What they do not consider is the crumpling that happens when you see your body, every day, represented as a cautionary tale for someone else. If you are not careful, you may become a monstrosity like me, a before desperately awaiting an after. Because after, you can be heard. After, you are not required to renounce your own body in order to be accepted and embraced. You may share your experiences, hopes, dreams, plans, without weighing them down with caveats, dress sizes, inches, or pounds. After, you can have a face. After, you can smile. After, you can speak.

My body does not afford me those luxuries. My body is before.

But I don’t choose to believe that. I choose to believe that fat people can be genuinely attractive, truly loved, actually lovable, sincerely wanted.

I choose to believe that my fat friends and family members who are in love are loved fully, are fulfilled in those relationships, and that their partners are not somehow damaged for wanting them. I believe that my past loves with fat partners weren’t some symptom of a sinister sickness for either of us, but something real and worthwhile.

I reject the notion that fat attraction is necessarily a fetish: something deviant, tawdry, vulgar, or dangerous. I choose to believe that my body is worthy of love—the electric warmth of real, full love. In many ways, it’s not that simple. But in some ways, it is. I choose to believe that I am lovable, as is my body, just as both are today.

I believe that I deserve to be loved in my body, not in spite of it. My body is not an inconvenience, a shameful fact, or an unfortunate truth. Desiring my body is not a pathological act. And I’m not alone. Despite the never-ending headwinds, fat people around the world find and forge the relationships they want. There is no road map, so we become cartographers, charting some new land for ourselves. We live extraordinary lives, beloved by our families, partners, communities. Fat people fall wildly in love. Fat people get married. Fat people have phenomenal sex. Fat people are impossibly happy. Those fat people live in defiance of the expectations set forth for them. Their fat lives are glorious and beautiful things, vibrant and beyond the reach of what the rest of us have been trained to imagine. Let’s imagine more.”]

aubrey gordon, what we don’t talk about when we talk about fat

[starry-skies-116]

yEET-

ALIVE!AU HEADCANONSSSSSS:

Evan: 

16 years old, sphomore year of high school.

Still occasionally bullied and teased, but is considered by many to be ‘very beautiful’ by many standards.

Aroace male-presenting enby, he/him/they/them (says “I’m queer and 60% boy” and 50% of the time refuses to elaborate). Absolutely wears a black and white ring on both his ring fingers.

Acts way older than he actually is.

Still is strongly spiritually synonymous with butterflies and lepidopteran creatures- sometimes when people find him in nature or in a garden, butterflies or moths are fluttering around him and are attracted to him.

RIDICULOUSLY prodigious and inspiringly hardworking, insightful, strategic and incredibly pattern sensitive- learns new things relatively quickly, planning and solving problems with incredible accuracy and meticulousness, and accurately reading the people around him and discerning their true intentions. He also develops the ability to be impressively adaptable to changing circumstances, though inconveniences do irk him greatly depending on the severity.

Primarily an engineering and mathematics genius, STEM teachers absolutely love him lol. He’s also one helluva nerd- special interest is now computers. Strings of information and numbers tend to fascinate him, and he often experiments and tinkers with programming, machinery and software to produce different outputs.

Wears whatever tf he wants whenever tf he wants, doesn’t give a shit as long as its comfy and stylish.

Has elongated, visible scars on his wrist and stomach from… the incident.

Very clearly neurodivergent (I would say high functioning autism but functioning labels are basically garbage lol), selectively inattentive, detail oriented. 

Went from severely depressed to only mildly depressed due to medication and therapy starting from when he was eleven. Insomnia has significantly decreased as well, and now he is on a semi-reasonable and consistent sleep schedule.

VOCAL TICS~

Has significantly more confidence than before, and demands respect and recognition where it is due. 

Still retains an incredibly sagacious and secretly kind personality with REALLY high and palpable levels of empathy.

Stims frequently, occasionally has sensory problems, although he’s learned to make it more discreet (fidgeting, pressing his knuckles, tapping his heels/toes rapidly, colliding his ankles together and swaying his legs back and forth, chewing gum, humming, rapidly clicking pens, keyboard typing, etc.) Favorite stims include sleeping on soft fabric, weighted blankets and listening to other people’s heartbeats and distant thunderstorms.

No longer suppresses his naturally witty and snarky attitude. Either is surprisingly snide and brusque, or is cryptic, astute and speaks in riddles.

“Now you’re talking about the theory of how if dinosaurs must’ve existed, dragons must’ve existed? Why can’t you talk about normal things?” ||| “I do not control the hyperfixation.”

Has developed a vast repository of vocabulary and coherency he uses in his words, and speaks with fluency, blunt directness, and incredible intensity and passion, and this can make other people his age not want to socialize with him due to their more casual tones. (doesn’t give a shit anymore lol)

“Aiy-yai-yai… was I… rambling?” ||| “Strange that it took you an hour to notice. But yes.”

Needs to mentally rehearse making a phone call to people before having their social battery burnt out entirely.

HATES Papayas and Kombucha tea. Get those monstrosities far away from him.

***

Elizabeth: 

13 years old, 8th grade.

ADHD-PI. Need I say more?

One moment is ‘I simply wish to enjoy a hot cup of milk on a rainy afternoon’ and another moment ‘RRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-’

Hyperfocus tends to shift from time to time. Primary interests include botany, sewing, fashion, cooking, baking, biology, bonsai, gemstones, and history.

Spiked maturity/emotional growth primarily due to both Evan’s and her mother’s guidance, as well as the positive influence of elders around her willing to guide her, believe in her and correct her when she goes astray.

Pan-oriented demisexual demiromantic (yes I made her aspec because I fUCKING can/lh)

Like Evan, she has an incredible imagination, plus a REALLY BAD hoarding habit. He hoards computer chips, books, plushies, papers, school supplies and mechanical and engineering equipment- she hoards antiques, jewelry, dolls, quilts, dresses, flowers, plants and vinyls.

Geeks out with Evan over topics like language, philosophy, psychology, geography, literature, gemstones and the biology of bugs, yet they are both still very much scared of them and sing-song-scream-cry whenever there’s a bug in the room, save for butterflies.

Physically INCAPABLE of sitting still.

VOCAL TICS 2.0~

Also ridiculously prodigious and insightful, a history and biology buff with an eye for antiques (BURNT OUT GIFTED KIDS ASSEMBLE)

Also stims a crap ton. Sometimes teachers swear her leg taps itself against the ground so fast it’ll soon vibrate and be able to phase through walls.

Shit memory lol, equally shit at rhythym games.

Has amusia (is tone-deaf).

Copies patterns and mannerisms from other people and adopts smidgens of both her mother’s personality, her own, as well as Evan’s, coming across as well as sarcastic and witty.

Possesses an INCREDIBLY strong bond with her brothers- seriously, the Afton siblings are a package deal hurt one and you die with the Dark Souls death screen hovering over you (and the kids dancing on ur grave lmao)

Time management? Memory? What blasphemy do you speak of?

“Ah, no, yeah- okay, this shouldn’t take but a moment. Between an hour and a half, and, uh… an estimated two weeks.”

Also feels VERY deeply and strongly about topics she is passionate about, and feels a personal sense of either gratitude or revenge to people who have either helped her or wronged her, respectively- unlike Evan, who sees only the most dangerous traits in people, yet begrudgingly knows and believes that there are unseen reasons behind their true nature.

Elizabeth during class: “Yeah, uh, can you repeat the part of the stuff where you said all the things?”

Like Evan, she has an ‘all-or-nothing, do-or-die’ attitude, frequent and uncontrollable stimming and fidgeting, and a difficulty in social situations. She is very extroverted and sociable, yet has a tendency to become overexcited and excessively hyperfixate, and it is because of this that when people tell her to ‘just focus’ or ‘try harder’ she becomes IMMENSELY frustrated because ‘I KNOW’. 

She also has some symptoms of executive dysfunction, doesn’t have a filter when she speaks, and never maintains eye contact, instead glancing around everywhere to avoid discomfort.

Loses shit RELENTLESSLY-

She’s the type of person to go to Target to buy toothpaste, then comes back with a receipt for $218. Everyone facepalms, while Evan understands her.

[lightcreators]

@tiimecrash continue from here

A soft ( yet amused ) smiled graced the Professor’s lips. She was surprised to say the least that her husband the current one here in France allowed this regeneration to come visit their little safe space. Their protected timeline, but she did have a small part in talking her old man into letting his future self stay there. She looked over to him, as she was puttering away in the small garden near the home. He allowed her freedom to have her gardens and plants along with his vineyard. After all, she could possibly be the reason he became interested in botany in the first place. “You can thank the old man for picking it out. He’s got an eye for beautiful things.” a small chuckled escaped her lips. Where the old man was, she didn’t know. Sometimes he would leave when his future self showed up, but not always.

She knew her husband ( in any form ) had business to attend to. Plans upon plans of the secretive nature. He was not a good person in actions. He had done horrible things but somehow she forgave him for it. All at the cost of this safe place with him. Was it a foolish move? Perhaps, but she was better safe than on the other end of his plans. She loved him, more than anything. That’s why she forgave his monstrosities during the time war, and he was making it up to her. A small formed on her lips, watching her husband reading his book about viticulture. Strange he needed a book for something he should know about. “Since when do you need glasses?” she laughed some, putting her pruning equipment away and approached him. “ -- they suit you. It makes you look --- dignified. I quite like it.”

A grin on her lips, she rounded the chair he was sitting in, before ruffling his hair. Standing behind him, she leant over to take a look over the book on viticulture.  Shaking her head. she kissed his temple. Here in this little timeline - this safe space she was free to be romantic. “Did he make you read this? I bet he did, he thinks you of all people don’t know how to take care of your own bloody vineyard.” That’s when she looked at the rows of vines out in the pasture. She knew for a fact his previous self thought he wasn’t competent enough to know anything. It was silly, she thought.  She sighed happily before sitting in a chair next to her husband. “The real question is, are you happy here?” she asked him.

Cooperate  with  himself  sounded  most  conceivable  improbability,  though  every  day,  he  could  feel  how  perfected  it  could  be,  how  magnificient  as  a  teamwork  they  could  work  —  minus  usual  argue  about  their  diverging  opinions,  when  he  was  pleased  the  old  man  remained  over  his  exasperation  of  ‘the  youth’  when  his  views  displeased  the  incarnation  he  had  been  …  All  things  considered,  it  was  an  nice  reflection,  an  funny  show  in  which  he  could  reflecting  himself  physically  and  when  his  thoughtfulness  wasn’t  minded.  His  previous  self  also  had  his,  and  regardless  about  being  himself,  he  won’t  never  exploded  layers  of  his  current  mindset,  leave  an  complete  mask  over  his  thoughts,  inside  that  sensitivity  carefulness  he  remembered  so  clearly.  That  old  man  decided,  inside  that  mountain  of  irony,  to  calling  himself  Yana  —  where  he  couldn’t  hardly  called  him  an  'helper’  but  an  hard-worked  instead,  so  meticulous  that  he  didn’t  want  the  youth  to  spoil  the  meaning  of  his  actions.  It  was  an  changing  overlook  hence  he  remained  amused  most  of  times,  and  acted  with  his  annoyance  in  an  healthy  way  he  wouldn’t  have  never  imagined  before.  Inside  that  little  vineyard,  while  he  strove  to  make  the  business  as  lucrative  as  possible  and  the  old  man  strove  to  give  the  best  of  qualities,  he  cannot  speak  of  Featherine.  Or  the  MIB  who  had  been  endlessly  watching  over  him  until  he  came  into  that  closed  timeline,  inside  that  protective  bubble,  as  he  came  to  flee  to  seek  peace  …  Maybe,  from  another  dimension  perspective,  they  were  resumed  to  been  watched,  but  with  an  most  understanding  and  silent  gaze  …  He  personally  offered  endless  comedy.

As  much  he  desired  to  take  back  an  old  alias  of  his,  as  much  he  wanted  once  more  reach  higher  spheres  inside  the  human  society  for  having  his  needs  of  power  fullfilled,  he  couldn’t.  He  couldn’t  neither  risking  Featherine  spotting  his  previous  self  …  who  had  run  away  of  the  War,  run  away  of  Gallifrey,  run  away  of  every  opportunity  available  on  his  spot  …  who  had  running  away  differently  in  the  way  he  eventually  came  into  existence,  where  there  was  reassurance  no  one  would  found  him  …  It  was  no  point  to  speak  about  Theta.  Besides,  he  learned  existence  of  such  place  thanks  to  a  letter,  who  invited  him  to  cooperation  …  in  which  he  guessed  he  must  had  been  himself  who  inclining  him  to  visiting  himself.  Though,  in  no  way,  there  was  intent  to  act  like  Theta  did  with  himself.  He  wanted  a  true  and  clear  parternship  between  each  other.  Besides,  he  was  an  settled  down  visitor,  discovering  shape  reality  of  an  chessboard  having  an  Game  Master,  where  he  could  learn  more  than  simply  keep  an  business  going  …  beyond  to  just  touch  happiness  he  longed  for.  Tiredness  had  been  weighting  within  the  previous  weeks  before  his  arrival  here.  That  old  man  didn’t  comment  over  how  emotionally  destroyed  he  looked,  weight  of  these  things  left  unsaid,  from  heaviness  of  an  imprecise  truth  of  the  future  …  where  mentally,  he  didn’t  wanted  to  been  constantly  watched.  Where  emotionally,  he  needed  a  break.  Hence  he  decided  to  treat  that  newest  experience  as  a  'holiday’,  and  for  make  such  experience  worthwhile,  deleting  any  kind  of  potential  problems,  to  take  comedy  taste  at  his  higher.  He  was  going  to  appear  friendliest  possible,  giving  himself  friendliest  appearance  even  if  it  meant  changing  his  dress  code  which  was  more  in  keeping  with  the  season  of  the  place,  let  an  obvious  charm  shine  through,  and  take  every  day  as  a  good  entertainment  opportunity.  He  was  on  fringe  just  before  he  mentally  exploded  and  listened  uncontrolled  urges  for  reinforced  violence.  He  would  get  what  he  wanted  with  a  beautiful,  flirtatious,  deceptive  smile,  and  gain  the  control  he  wanted  while  remaining  harmless.  It  would  be  impossible  to  do  great  things  initially,  which  frustrated  him,  but  eventually  he  would.  He  would  understand  how  to  truly  be  a  Master  of  these  chessboards  he  had  crossed  so  many  times.  He  would  finally  figure  out  how  to  put  himself  on  an  equal  footing  with  Featherine.  While  allowing  himself  to  no  longer  be  chained  in  the  invisible  chains  that  had  nailed  him  to  the  ground  …  him,  the  man  who  fled  to  bounce  back  better,  what  a  twist  !

Her  presence  was  making  the  entire  difference.  He  was  probably  only  one  of  his  selves  that  would  be  allowed  to  stay  here  as  long  as  he  wanted  —  he  noticed,  firstly,  how  their  gaze  met  and  mutually  understood  each  other,  wordlessly.  The  old  man  was  perceiving  the  kind  of  suffering  he  would  eventually  live,  or  sparing  himself  by  staying  inside  his  little  protective  bubble.  He  could  understood  exactly  where  that  old  man  was  standing.  Reason  who  pushed  him  to  act  that  way  this  time  —  influenced  maybe  by  the  same  person  —  meanwhile  keeping  his  old  secrets.  Knowing  himself,  he  avoid  been  around  when  the  old  man  showed  desires  to  remaining  alone  with  his  wife.  In  some  compromise,  he  had  to  'share’  her  with  himself  ;  in  which  he  was  an  welcomed  bonus.  On  the  opposite,  sometimes  afterwards  some  conversations  like  himself  like  he  did  previously,  the  old  man  returned  to  some  discrete  business  he  wasn’t  aware  of.  An  laugh  welcomed  his  expression  as  he  watched  her.  Appreciating  the  gentleness  of  her  various  names  around  that  place.  Sola,  the  Time  Lady  he  had  been  in  his  care  since  the  Time  War,  where  he  would  always  make  sure  she  was  safe.  Jamie,  her  public  name  in  which  he  had  been  the  one  who  return  her  over  who  she  was.  Or  the  Professor,  when,  amusingly,  she  also  had  been  one  with  him  —  over  one  discrete  subject  where  that  place  was  all  about.    ❝  Thank  you  for  the  compliment  in  retrospective.    ❞  He  bounced  back  with  a  laugh.    ❝  Even  if  the  old  man  knows  embellish  beauty  of  a  place,  I’ll  compliment  him  later,  and  I  imagine  he’ll  still  complain  about  recklessness  of  youth.    ❞  He  noticed  her  surprise.  His  previous  self  had  been  sharing  an  speech  on  a  fermentation  of  wine,  and  in  front  of  his  obvious  lack  of  interest  from  so  much  passion,  he  had  invited  him  to  document  himself  —  a  polite  way  to  recognize  his  art.  It  was  only  very  easily  controllable  constraint  he  would  have:  himself.  Naturally,  he  was  only  person  he  couldn’t  stand  in  his  different  degrees.  It  was  an  issue  with  themselves.  An  following  laugh  echoed,  before  smiling  lovingly  towards  the  compliment.    ❝  It’s  for  the  style.    ❞  He  admitted.    ❝  It  makes  me  look  charming  and  adorable.  Although  I  am  flattered  by  the  compliment.  The  serious  man  in  a  suit  and  tie,  with  a  half-pout  expression,  doesn’t  really  make  a  man  on  vacation.    ❞  There  was  another  laugh,  as  he  leaved  out  his  book  for  watching  over  her.  Smiling  even  more  lovingly  as  she  kissed  his  temples,  leaving  a  little  his  book  for  touch  one  of  her  hands  before  been  further  amused.    ❝  He  finds  that  youth  has  a  side  that  is  a  little  too  reckless.  I  was  so  picky  at  that  time.  The  poor  old  man  mustn’t  know  what  it  is  to  have  fun,  I  will  have  to  show  him.  He  gave  me  a  whole  talk  about  fermenting  wine,  and  I  almost  rolled  my  eyes  that  he  invited  me  to  educate  myself.  I’m  a  businessman,  what  I  want  is  for  it  to  work.  It  shouldn’t  be  surprising  if  the  farmer  forgets  this  notion  for  focus  over  details.    ❞  His  amused  smile  inscreased.    ❝  Do  I  look  unhappy  ?  The  first  time  I  came  here,  I  had  a  depressed  expression  that  I  didn’t  imagine  it  could  stop.  What  could  I  complain  about  but  myself  ?    ❞

[pipitwrites]

Time to absolutely lose it in your asks the Gawain ficlet is excellent. The tenderness and the way that they're both speaking so carefully around each other but still seem to know each other deeply. Also I love Pierre struggling to keep making eye contact.

So I did read a summary of the story before reading. I wasn't familiar with the Gawain story but it's very similar to a folk song I love called King Henry. It's mostly the same narrative, with Henry returned victoriously from the hunt when his feast is disrupted by the hag. This version portrays the hag as dangerous rather than aged- 10 feet tall with teeth and claws, and she lists a series of demands for food and drink and lodging. Henry fulfills all of them even though they mean he has to sacrifice his own horse/wine/clothing/hunting dogs/riches (each of these are a verse lol it's a long ballad), and while she still demands to be wed she isn't revealed as beautiful until the next morning.

I'm thinking of a Pierre who sees a monster and believes in his gut that he can see Charles behind it, or a Charles who wants so ravenously and deeply from Pierre and can't stop wanting even though Pierre is being forced to sacrifice all these things. And a Pierre who still after all that is willing to believe in Charles and take him as he is with no assurance that he'll change.

More on the ballad here if you're interested. Sorry if this was a lot, I loved the fic!

HELLO!!! this was such a lovely note to wake up to this morning!! i had not heard of the king henry ballad before, thank you so much for the link. i loved the video of the furrow collective's performance!!

i agree that the ballad focuses more on her seeming monstrosity and i love this idea of hunger... ravenous wanting... and sacrifice, themes i also adore... and probably make more sense in their context SDFKJLJGJLK

with lady ragnelle, it's difficult because the crux of the story is in the riddle (what do women want) and the answer (sovereignty), and the implications it has about gender & social power, which is why i completely elided that part LMAO... but i was still haunted by the idea of choosing and what it means to give that control back to someone ;;;; hence my late night madness ;;;;

thank you so much for reading & sharing that lovely ballad!!! and also. because i am shameless about begging for more fic. please. if you consider expanding on your thoughts about pierre & monstrous charles... into a full fic..... let me know......... ;;;;;

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

Hi I don't know if your taking requests or not, if you aren't please just ignore this. I had a small idea for the Yuu au's, where Yuu is actually like an slumbering God that was summoned by the mirror. Like, just imagine, Yuu is an almighty powerful being, and yet they are forced to live in a dump, and fight edgy teenagers all day. I don't know why, but I can't help but chuckle at the idea of it. I think that Yuu would be the God of mischief, but that's just my thoughts. Hope this is too weird😅

I… may have strayed off from the God of Mischief idea and wrote whatever what was on my mind, ehehe. I got carried away.

Also, I technically don’t take requests(?). Well, at least I think I don’t. Taking request means having a quota to fill (or at least that’s what I think it means) but I like writing at my own pace 'cause it's fun to experiment with things. Y'all give great ideas in my inbox, though I haven't really gotten around that, hehe. Wait, is that considered taking requests? Hmmm...

===

I'm just here to mix-and-match different kinds of Yuus with different kinds of personalities to see what monstrosity I can make. That being said,,, Deity!Yuu brainrot!

Unlike the normal coffin that students that get to attend NRC get, Yuu wakes up in their own specialized coffin.

One that was made for them by some people they could call their friends a long, long time ago. A coffin hidden inside a room, unable to be seen by anyone, alone and peacefully slumbering.

Well, that was until they were forcefully awoken by someone when their coffin was opened by none other than Grim.

Grim rejoiced about being able to open a coffin but then notices that the person inside wasn’t wearing the students’ robes, meaning that the person probably wasn’t a student.

Yuu’s just confused that someone was able to open the coffin because they were sure that the coffin wouldn’t be able to be opened unless under certain conditions.

“How did you find this room, dear?”

“What do you mean?”

“This room can’t be seen or entered by just anyone… much less can anyone open this coffin.”

“Then that just means that the Great Grim isn’t just anyone! Fnyahahaha! Wait, what are you doing here anyway?”

Well, mystery aside, Yuu finds themselves charmed by Grim’s personality. He's bubbly and mischievous, a child still learning and growing.

Yuu loved watching all kinds of creatures grow and learn, never static or still. Ever changing and flawed, yet still beautiful. Unlike them who simply… existed.

Yuu gets out of the coffin, although they seem to have trouble with walking. Or standing, really. Like a baby deer that was just learning to walk.

"What are you doing? Are you broken or something?”

"Oh no, I hope not. Just a moment dear, I’ll be reoriented with walking soon. It isn’t always that I have a corporeal form, you know.”

“Corpo-what? What does that mean?”

Of course Yuu refuses to elaborate and just chuckles.

So anyway, the two make their way outside the hidden room and Yuu learns that Grim’s reason for opening the coffin, and that all the other coffins that he found were empty aside from Yuu’s.

Grim perhaps may not have realized it but it seemed that he instinctively trusted Yuu and was ready and willing to tell a person they literally just met his problems.

Yuu wondered if it was because of their being. Was their aura leaking out? Animals always seemed to be more sensitive to their existence than humans were. Was Grim an animal?

They were a god, after all. Even if their powers were mostly sealed since they were in their mortal body, but they could still at least access some of it.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what the robe looks like, dear. Mayhaps I can be of help? Two pairs of eyes are better than one, after all.”

And by that, they meant conjuring a robe out of nowhere and pretending that they found it. Though they would need to know what the robe Grim needed to look like first. They were powerful, not all-knowing.

But before Grim could say anything, Crowley arrived with a confused expression on his face.

“Are you perhaps Yuu?”

Hearing this, Yuu chuckles as if thinking of an inside joke.

“Yes. Yes I am Yuu.”

So the two, along with Grim, proceed to the Mirror Chamber.

Apparently when the coffin was opened and Yuu was woken up, the Dark Mirror sensed this and said, ‘They have awoken. Find them. Find Yuu.’ which prompted the Headmaster to look for this person because the mirror kept insisting and wouldn’t let the ceremony end.

He mistakenly assumes that Yuu was a student that he wasn’t aware of. Maybe they were called by the Mirror at the last minute and arrived late? Because last he checked, all the coffins were already empty.

So anyway, Yuu ends up standing in front of the Dark Mirror and the two refuse to break eye contact. The room was silent, the atmosphere tense. What exactly are these two doing?

Crowley: *coughs* “Oh Dark Mirro-“

Dark Mirror: “You soul… is unsortable. Therefore you are suited for no dormitory.”

Crowley looks at Yuu, who for some reason looks like they took it as a compliment, and looks back at the mirror in confusion.

A little later, Crowley tried to bring Yuu back to where they belong but the mirror refused and Yuu just gave out an awkward cough.

It wasn’t like they didn’t have a home. Well… kind of anyway. They didn’t technically need a home since they were deity. Their home and being was both anywhere and nowhere, existing and non-existing. Confusing as it may be but it is what it is.

Timeskip later, Grim and Yuu begins to live in Ramshackle.

Grim wasn’t able to cause chaos in ceremony because Yuu may have subdued his fire before they could even begin to light it up.

Yuu knew what a bad idea it would’ve been if Grim just randomly set things on fire.

Though, when they were walking inside Ramshackle, Grim noticed that Yuu’s eyes were filled with nostalgia and melancholy.

“Are ya okay, human?”

“Oh, I’m just… lost in pleasant memories, you could say.”

In one of the rooms in Ramshackle, Grim found a storybook. It looked worn-out and old.

Grim: “A kid must’ve been the one who made this. Look, the drawings are crooked and weird. It’s a weird-looking stick figure.”

Yuu, embarrassed and covering their face: “…Please stop talking, dear. Maybe… Maybe it was their first time drawing…”

But anyway, Yuu takes the storybook away from Grim and reads it to him instead. It was a story about seven vastly different people, powerful and mighty.

Well, you probably know where this is going.

Anyway, contrary to what Yuu thinks, they aren’t really that good at hiding their not-human-ness.

Everyone just pretends not to notice. They don’t exactly know that Yuu’s a deity but they do know they’re powerful. And they also have an inkling that Yuu’s much, much more older than Lilia.

Someone: overblots

Yuu: “Hmmm… I don’t remember this happening to anyone before. But then again, not everyone had magic back then.”

Yuu doesn’t have much of an active role in here-- then again they didn’t have much of an active role in the game either. They’re bound by the world’s laws, you could say. They can only be a narrator or a spectator but not a character.

They aren’t supposed to be in other’s stories, after all. Although they step in when they absolutely need to but the world doesn’t take too kindly to it...

As Yuu and Grim get more comfortable in Ramshackle, the more storybooks they discover all throughout the abandoned dorm. Or in Yuu’s case, rediscover. There were seven in total.

Although the names weren’t specifically stated in the stories, Grim begins to realize that the seven characters in it corresponded to the Great Seven. He only noticed because the drawing skills of whoever made it started to become better and the character’s features became more defined.

In other words, the storybooks were actually biographies.

So imagine talking about of the Great Seven and Grim casually mentions things that weren’t even known about them.

“Didn’t the King of Hearts pardon most of the subjects that the Queen of Hearts decided to execute? They have a good system going on. If the King thought the person didn’t deserve it then he’d speak on behalf of that person and get them a trial. If they did deserve it, he’d agree wholeheartedly with the Queen.”

This prompts questions from the others where they then find out the existence of the storybooks.

Of course, everyone unintentionally or intentionally disses the storybook’s stick figures while Yuu continued to cry internally from the side.

But anyway, there were still a lot of speculation whether the contents in the storybooks were real or not so Crowley had to take it all away to verify it.

While that was happening Grim found the last storybook though, and he realized it was unfinished. It seemed that whoever made it wasn’t the same person who made the other previous books.

It was a story about someone who didn’t belong in their world. Someone who was bound to the rules of their world and had their powers sealed to protect the balance. A story of someone who befriended all the 7 people in the previous storybooks and wrote their stories for others to remember but couldn’t write their own story for others to remember them by, so the 7 worked together to make one for them instead.

Someone who was dragged into their stories and taught them all kinds of things and at the same time, whom they taught things to. Someone who had to forcefully go away in the end, leaving no trace of themselves behind but their body.

So the 7 people put the being’s mortal body into a coffin and hid it away. And for years and years it stayed that way with the 7 waiting and waiting and slowly realizing that the being wouldn’t come back anymore because the Great Seven’s stories were already finished.

Grim isn’t dumb, he knows who was being referred to here when they brought up the unknown being.

“Ne, Yuu. Do you think stories should end?”

“Hm? What brought this on, dear?”

“Don’t you think that it’s sad when stories end? Don’t you just want it to keep on continuing?”

“Well… as bittersweet as it sounds, all stories have to come to an end whether we like it or not. That’s why we have to cherish every moment we have with each other and have something to make us remember all those sweet memories.”

“Then… what if it’s someone that no one can remember? What about them? Isn’t it sad for them to have no stories? If it was you, wouldn’t you want to be remembered by others?”

“…Yes... Yes, I would...”

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! I know I asked before, but may you please write another snippet? This time something about a villain who is basically darkness, cruelty, apathy and everything evil all warped and hidden behind an friendly face. A villain who is very dangerous and violent, very sadistic and torturous, very sinister and a machiavellian monstrosity, a villain you can see hell through their eyes. Yet they’re calm, collected and with a terrifyingly gentle touch and soft voice and they hide all of their corruption and wickedness behind a polite and pleasant facade.

I’m sorry if this is too specific. I love your writing! ♥️

“You’re frightened of me,” the villain murmured. Their head tilted, expression even as they considered the hero - like the hero was a particularly interesting and complex problem they were endeavouring to solve. 

The hero took a step back on instinct, flinching to a stop at the way the villain’s eyes followed the movement. The movement had betrayed them. There was no pretending now that nothing was wrong. Their heart raced in their chest, a beat of war drums pounding a warning in their head. Their mouth had gone dry. The thermos of coffee the hero had brought, because the villain always worked so late, felt clammy against their palm. 

“I see you.” It was barely above a whisper, raspy. 

The villain hummed and offered a small, pleasant smile. “Yes,” they said. “You do, don’t you. How long?”

The hero stared at them. 

“Ah,” the villain said. “A new development.”

The villain didn’t try and approach, but the hero felt sure that if they made a go for the doors of the art gallery, that would change. Images of blood and gore flickered behind the hero’s eyeballs - they imagined it splashed up the pristine white walls, just another smear of paint. 

All around them, were the villain’s paintings. The exhibition was supposed to be one about modern monstrosity, the forms of social and institutional violence which wound around the building bricks of contemporary society. Controversial. Startling. And, the hero had finally realised staring at the bold strokes of paint, entirely too real. Those paintings weren’t just inspired, they were drawn from something far too real, and put smugly on display with the knowledge that most people would guess anything other than the truth. 

“You thought my work was beautiful,” the villain continued, watching them. “Do you still think so?”

“I didn’t think it was-” the hero stopped. Their throat locked tight. 

They’d met the villain a few months ago - a final year art student intern, and the villain an industry legend everyone was a little bit in love with and terrified of. God, if only they knew how scared they should really be. The hero had been awed. 

They’d seemed so nice in person, so soft and gentle compared to the visions they displayed. 

The villain hummed once more, that small smile still curled along their lips. 

The hero had done sittings for them, for fuck’s sake. They’d spent hours alone with them, lulled by the smell of acrylics and oils and plastic sheets on the floor. They’d thought it was peaceful, that the villain could sit so still for so long in a world that moved so fast. But it wasn’t peace, was it? It was the same stillness of a snake in the grass, waiting to strike - the calm of any ambush predator. 

The hero took another step back before they could stop themselves. Cold sweat dripped down their spine. 

This time, the villain took a step forward too, perfectly timed to mimic the movement like some dark reflection. Their smile grew. They thought this was funny. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” the villain asked. 

“You’re fucking sick, that’s why.”

“Mm. True,” the villain said. “But you see, don’t you? It’s not just that.”

“That’s the only bit I care about.”

“Not going to try and endear yourself to me to save your skin?”

“Would that work?”

The villain shrugged. “I like lovely things.”

“You also like causing pain.”

“Intense human emotion is the most lovely thing of all.”

“So I’m screwed.”

Something crept past the villain’s mask then, glimmering in the bottomless pit of their eyes. Why did people always say ‘deep, soulful eyes’ like it was a good thing? There was no telling what lay in the deep, no telling what kind of soul might be lurking beneath the surface. The hero should have stuck to someone nice and shallow. Safe. 

“It’s been such a long time since anyone has been able to see me,” the villain said. They took another step closer, not mimicking now, and the hero scrambled backwards. “They stare at me all day and give outraged reviews but they’re still so blind. So, you’re a talented student. Take a few deep breaths. Tell me.” The villain’s head tilted the other way. “What do you see?”

The hero saw themselves sprinting full tilt towards the door, because all of the lights of the gallery were on so it felt impossible that such darkness could claw up to them so fast. They saw themselves reaching the door and the villain overtaking them, because the only reason for a predator to move that slowly was because they didn’t think they had to run. 

And the hero saw themselves back at the villain’s private studio, smiling and clutching a cup of tea as they talked. They saw themselves orbiting the villain like they thought themselves circling the sun instead of a black hole. Maybe it was the same thing. Suns and black holes could both kill you just fine.

“You’re not going to kill me,” the hero said. “You want an audience. Someone who understands what you’re doing.”

“Nobody would believe you anyway,” the villain said. “It’s too...” they wet their lips. “Obvious. If I was a monster I’d hide it better.”

The hero let out a horrible, strangled sort of laugh. 

In an instant of distraction, the villain was in front of them. They took the hero’s chin oh so gently in hand, like they were a statue to be admired - the hero certainly froze like stone was all that was left of them. 

The dark thing in the villain’s eyes stared, and stared, and stared. The violence, the hunger for it, simmered. The hero wanted to stop staring back, but they couldn’t quite look away. 

The spell broke as villain plucked the coffee thermos from the hero’s slack hand with a charming wink. “For me? Thanks.” They sauntered past, body brushing despite the gaping space around them. “You’re a sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, usual time. I’m nearly done with your picture.”

They still had six months left working together.

[weatheredleatherhat]

A Heisenberg HC with a daughter who is adventurous and curious about the world around her? And just adores being around him? Just pure innocence 🥺

((A pure and innocent HC? IN THIS ECONOMY?! Of course you can! Honestly I adore this ask aaaa. I got a little sidetracked overall, and it's a bit all over the place, but hope it's okay and what you wanted!!))

He's always been proud of his little sweetpea, but the fact that she got his sense of independence, curiosity and brains? Makes his heart swell every time he sees her tinkering with something, or learning about every new thing she can get her hands on.

It doesn't mean it doesn't frighten him half to death, though. As much as he wants her to be this kickass kid, she'll always be his little girl, and so he tries to curb it to what he considers 'safe' things to explore all the time. This is usually things like gadgets he finds in outsider's backpacks, books, things like that.

Taught her how to defend herself from a young age, since she's a sneaky little bugger who will get out no matter what. Wonder who she got that from?

Every single monstrosity in the factory has been programmed to never touch a hair on her head, and since she's always grown up with them, she has a tendency to name them. Frustrates him no end.

"Leave alone who? Jerry? The fucking... YOU NAMED THE PANZER?!"

A little pout and a few bats of her eyelashes, and he instantly melts. God damned Jerry it is.

She has him so wrapped around her little finger it isn't even funny. Anything his Princess wants, she's getting.

They have a really close relationship, even if they butt heads sometimes. They can be found working together a lot; her passing tools and him teaching her everything he knows. He'll never pass up an opportunity to praise her; to tell her she's smart, and capable, and beautiful. He just loves his kid, alright?

His fondest memory was when his daughter was about three years old. She'd had the shittiest cold known to man; snot everywhere, coughs, the whole nine yards. He'd fussed over her for days, worried sick that she'd be alright. When she finally felt a little better, she was so clingy that she cried whenever he left the room, and he needed so badly to get some work done, so he decided to get two birds with one stone. Wrapping her up in his coat for extra warmth, he settled her on his lap and got some blueprints mapped out while she slept soundly for the first time in what felt like forever. The way her little hand was placed directly above his heart, her gentle even breathing, and how she curled into him that little more every time he moved... He felt genuinely loved, without any ulterior motive for the first time in his life, and it all seemingly dawned on him in that moment that this kid was his whole heart and soul.

Barely ever calls his kid by their name. He's got a whole rolodex of nicknames for her, but his favourite is sweetpea or princess.

Will remember every single important date when it comes to his kid. He can tell you exactly when her first steps were, her first word, when she lost her first tooth, etc.

He remembers it all because he keeps a diary about his days with his little one. Stuff like "Sweetpea learned a new word in German today. Zusammenarbeit*. So proud of that kid."

Overall, Karl is one fiercely protective, cuddly, kind Papa a child could ask for. Mostly because he wants to give her what he never had, but also because the little tyke's his word, man. She's the only one he ever shows that side to, but by God is it soft for her.

((Also, I would be shitty if I didn't give credit to@missheis for the Sweetpea naming idea that I took a lot of inspo from, as per one of her posts. Also giving her a shoutout since her blog is incredible and worth a follow for sure!! If it's not okay and you want it taken out, please let me know and I'll change it!))

*Zusammenarbeit is cooperation in German

[floriannas]

What Exactly Gothic Is

(Let me preface with trigger warnings, because Gothic makes a point of delving into dark themes: murder, abuse, racism, homophobia, incest, ableism, misogyny)

I have seen certain posts about what the definite characteristics of gothic fiction are that, I hate to say...felt either incomplete or inaccurate. And that has bothered me enough to make my own post about, at the very least, my understanding of this genre. 

Some things to get out of the way:

Gothic does not have one fixed definition. It is fluid and nebulous, and while all literature reflects its society, genre changes massively depending on where it was written. Canadian Gothic is not Welsh Gothic is not American Gothic. Victorian Gothic is not contemporary Gothic is not Regency Gothic. Nineteenth century British gothic is often in response to the drastic technological changes of the industrial revolution. Welsh Gothic has a lot of focus on the disenfranchised and the coal mining industry. Where and when your WIP is, and where and when YOU are writing it, is going to define it. 

We cannot talk about Gothic as a genre without talking about the racism that much of it is rooted in. We cannot ignore Charlotte Bronte’s dehumanising description of Bertha Rochester, a creole woman. We cannot ignore that Edward Hyde’s physical description is less ‘white’ than Henry Jekyll’s. We cannot ignore Heathcliff’s identity as a racially ambiguous villain. We cannot ignore just how bigoted in every way Dracula is. We CANNOT ignore the whiteness of much of the ‘feminist’ gothic literature, either. This is something you must be aware of if you're writing Gothic - it is not integral to gothic fiction but as I will explain, the traits of the genre lend themselves to antagonising marginalised groups.

Gothic is not just gothic horror. It can be horror, but it is still a genre in its own right and the horror is not mandatory.  

This post is about gothic as a literary genre. I will not be talking about Ostrogoths, Visigoths, gothic architecture or art, and - for once - I’m not talking about the Goth subculture either, the two actually have almost nothing in common.

Some frequent, though not all required, characteristics of the gothic (this is NOT a checklist. I cannot stress that this is a genre purposefully WITHOUT a clear definition):

Familial trauma - the ending of family lines (the presence of the aristocracy is common in Gothic, this trope perhaps most blatantly depicted in Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher), hauntings - not necessarily literal but metaphorical. There’s often a secret, or some kind of terrible incident that has been covered up, amongst a family that is inevitably unearthed. Marital trauma is very common - as seen in Jane Eyre with the original ‘madwoman in the attic’, the mystery surrounding the titular character in Rebecca, the secret room of The Bloody Chamber, the murdered husband being literally unearthed in House of America. 

The setting is everything in Gothic. It often has a presence enough that it is a character in its own right. Key things about the setting is that it’s typically old - or at least old enough to have a turbulent history - and typically remote, ‘feral’, in amongst nature and separate from civilisation. The latter is very often executed in a racist and/or xenophobic way in Gothic classics. Think very critically of what is considered ‘civilisation’ and what is not. Dracula being a novel about white Christian Britons being threatened by an Eastern European vampire? Don’t replicate that. You will also see the ‘sublime’ (see below) here, and motifs of decay (which can be linked to the ending of a family line easily!), and themes surrounding imprisonment and escape. Gothic fiction loves pathetic fallacy - whether a storm, fog, rain or bitter cold, the weather is absolutely there to set the tone.

Repression. This can be of a trauma, but repression of sexuality can feature too. I have seen it asserted that homoeroticism is a key component in Gothic, and while it can feature, I would not say entirely agree, for a number of reasons. There is often a focus on ‘taboo’ sexuality, a categorisation which places LGBT people with taboos such as incest (which features often in some forms of Gothic). Homophobic tropes such as the predatory gay villain (e.g. Dracula’s obsession with Jonathan Harker and Mrs Danver’s obsession with Rebecca) are fairly common, and a general treatment of homosexuality as immoral or depraved especially older texts, so let’s not act like it’s always been a LGBT friendly genre. Something either hidden away or repressed that is then discovered is a huge, huge, component to most gothic fiction. 

Misogynistic gender dynamics are often present: the combination of a young, vulnerable and innocent woman with an older male ‘Byronic Hero’ type love interest is common. The Victorian template of ‘bad’, ‘promiscuous’ or otherwise ‘improper’ woman reaching a sticky end is well loved. And then there’s Poe’s sinister obsession with ‘beautiful dead woman’. Don’t forget the intersection of ableism and misogyny with the ‘mad’ women like Bertha Rochester and Miss Havisham (though Eleanor Vance of The Haunting of Hill House is a sympathetic antidote of this trope.) The way women are written is something I’d very much like us to move beyond. 

The sublime: this is everywhere. That something, especially the wilderness, is beautiful and massive enough to be incomprehensible. 

Doubles or doppelgangers. Often as a ‘darker’ reflection of the protagonist - such as the hero and villain having close parallels, or the heroine as a foil to her husband’s mysterious dead first wife. It doesn’t have to exist just in this way, but the motif of the doppelganger is one Gothic fiction likes a lot.

‘Otherness’ or monstrosity. ‘Otherness’ and ‘Othering’ is something that is a crucial part of literary theory - what the narrative deems strange, unfamiliar, not like us, and so most depictions of monsters will also be Othered. Considering how almost all of the time in the Western literary canon this is a vehicle for racism, please think critically. Frankenstein’s monster has a more nuanced approach to what society defines as strange, or monstrous, how monstrosity is created, and self fulfilling prophecies. 

Cultural anxiety. This is by no means unique to Gothic but the genre is shaped by what the society of its creation is afraid of. This - like Frankenstein or The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - can be scientific advancement and new discoveries we do not yet understand, but the problem arises that for a lot of Western Gothic this has been marginalised groups. 

The Uncanny. As found in various forms of horror - same with the fear of the unknown, but often in Gothic - that something resembles something else enough to recognise at least what it ‘tries’ to be, but not enough for it to be truly familiar. This is a really effective way to make any person, place, or thing unsettling.

I think I’ve covered most of my notes - please take my first bullet point into consideration as this will inevitably be a bit UK centric. The thing about gothic is that it doesn’t really have one fixed meaning, so you have a lot of freedom. Bonus: if you want to read a really good gay feminist Gothic short story, ‘The Resident’ by Carmen Maria Machado is one of the best pieces of fiction, ever. 

[demonbloodhrt]

ok ive said this already but i think the format was wrong so.

when i talk abt t4t samruby i want you to think of how wonderful it is to know the shift from grief to pride in one's body.

think of the discovery that this scary thing, this seemingly endless metamorphosis into your family's very nightmare, into the thing you swore was what made you unclean, is actually your path to hope. to freedom. think of taking it hand in hand.

think of the ways loving a person who is taking the same path you've taken, the path you're on, but approaching it from a completely different route can lead to mutual discovery. think of how you learn and change with every conversation, every time you undress and touch. how ones relationship to their own body, actions and place in the world can expand when sharing their perspective with someone else who has, through pain and isolation, considered themselves, their place in life and the world around them extensively.

think of how maleable previously fixed ideas become and what a joy it is to find there are so many more doors and windows to open within and without of yourself.

think of understanding the nuances of being a creature fundamentally marginal, of being intimate with the in-between, with fear and pain and corruption and turning it into something that can be harnessed for good. the ultimate expression of free will. loving humanity through loving your monstrosity, through acknowledging that neither is inherently predator or prey, much less good or evil.

im talking about the inherent queercoding of monsterhood of course but THROUGH THAT im talking about just how complex and beautiful the relationships trans people have with each other are and how they allow for so much mutual discovery, change and growth. im talking about the nuance of existence that can be accessed through queer love and what it could bring to explorations of monster hunting as an institution and monsters as both idea and collective. im talking about community and perspective and love.

[horrorxweasley]

(Part 1) Triple W Mafia George x Fem! Y/N series

Warnings: Swearing! that’s it really (unless I've missed something then please let me know)

Word Count: 2,174

Summary:  George Weasley is a renowned Mafia boss who took over from his Father Arthur once he retired, to carry on the Triple W mafia legacy. The only mafia known to be able to keep the Death Eaters (their rival mafia) at bay. However there is one item that they stole from the Triple W’s which George is determined to get back...his mothers necklace, the family heirloom. Y/N Greyback has been forced to comply with the Death Eaters wishes as her family are high up members. What happens when George and Y/N meet? And what happens when they fall in love?

Series Masterlist 

The lights were dim in the what looked like to be an old bar room, the red hue coming from the red lamp shades hitting the walls. Smoke from cigars fogging up the top half of the room barely keeping the floor below visible. At each table there were groups of men, all sitting in perfectly tailored suits, sipping on their glasses of whiskey, laughing and having a good time. At the back of the room however, sat one man, alone. His elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, his finger brushing over his top lip as if he were deep in thought. His other hand held the same glass as every other man in the bar, lazily not caring if it were to fall and smash everywhere.

The man, George Weasley, a tall ginger man who’s eyes were the dark but kind shade of brown. Although seemingly intimidating, George had a kind heart, if he seen someone being attacked or robbed in the street, everyone would end up feeling bad for the attacker by the time George was finished with him. He had no time for the scum who go out of their way to make someone else’s life a living hell in order for them to feel a small, temporary taste for a God complex.

George had only recently taken over the title of the Triple W Mafia Boss, when his father Arthur had decided it was his time to retire and pass over the family ‘business’ to one of his sons. George was one of 6 sons and one daughter within the Weasley family. His identical twin brother Fred was technically supposed to become the next Mafia boss, as he was the older twin. But, he had decided that his brother George was more fit to the job than he was. So, George gratefully took over the role and appointed Fred and his younger brother Ron, to be his sort of ‘Body Guards’ although, of course George was far from needing any form of help when it came to beating or killing a criminal, it was still always good to have a little back up sometimes.

“Hey Georgie, what’s the plan then? What we gonna do about these damn Death Eaters?”

George sat, not moving, deep in thought. ‘What was he going to do about those Death Eaters?’ He has no where to start, the bastards are constantly on the run. He was determined to find their whereabouts however, as they had stolen something very precious to him, his mother’s necklace. The Weasley family heirloom.

-

In a room that was very clearly abandoned and covered in moss and mould, sat groups of men and some women in black cloaks with peculiar pointed hoods. These people, in contrast to that of which the Triple W members, appeared extremely intimidating. The members of Triple W were intimidating,  but these were the sort of people no one would want to encounter in the streets, day or night. There was no smoke from cigars in this small dingy room, there was however and eye watering stench, that was so strong some of the Death Eaters swore they seen a slight foggy green haze floating around the room.

All cloaked members were sitting in a circle all surrounding their leader Tom Riddle, or as he likes to call himself ‘Voldemort’. A tall man (not as tall as George) with black, short curly hair. He wasn’t wearing a cloak like his ‘followers’ but was wearing something that looked more like a bath robe, it was all black of course to fit in with the rest. All were listening in carefully to what he was saying, all apart form Y/N Greyback, daughter of Fenrir Greyback, a man who is considered very high up in the Death Eater mafia. She was sat in the corner, wearing a contrasting blood red dress that hugged all of her curves perfectly. Her Y/H/C hair was curled at the ends in neat ringlets, and she had some makeup on but not too much so she looked ‘dolled up’.

“We all know that the Triple W are cowering out in some fancy old bar, trouble is we don’t know where, I’ve had a few out scouting round the area, unfortunately they have all been caught” Riddle speaks out gesturing and engaging with his followers.

“What do you suggest we do then sir?” Said Fenrir who was sitting right next to where Riddle was parading around the room.

“I say we send out our most valuable member, of course, real them in, make them vulnerable” he smirked

“You don’t mean…”

“Oh yes, but I do, your daughter shall make excellent bate my dear friend, for she wears what Weasley most desires” Riddle finishes

Y/N too busy sat in the corner reading an old book, didn’t even notice that every Death Eater members eyes were on her, all smiling to themselves.

This may actually work, if we send out Y/N who is wearing that incredibly expensive looking, diamond necklace, it may just lure the idiot ginger straight to us” Fenrir laughed.

So their plan was set, send Y/N as bait and hopefully George would follow.

-     George still hadn’t moved from the position he was sat in, he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink, his eyes focussed and barely ever blinking. He was seemingly ignoring every person who tried to get a word out of him for some sort of plan to take down their Rival mafia. Sure he had killed a lot of spies they had sent out, but he was getting absolutely no leads on where exactly they were coming from, Riddle was smarter than he thought. It seemed he had Death Eaters coming from all over the country in all different directions and disguises. George had to find some way in order to track down where exactly they were based.

The sounds of other members arguing, specifically Fred and Ron who were standing right next to where George was sat, started to sound like a horrible ringing noise, it was driving him insane, how could he concentrate when these buffoon’s were yelling nonsense at each other.

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP” He yelled now getting up from his seat and walking to the middle of the smoky room.

“I can’t fucking think when you’re all fighting and arguing with each other on what we’re going to do. I am very aware that those bastards are close to finding us, alright? They’ve gained more members in the past few months than I can count on my two hands. Problem is, they’re coming from all over the country, there is no set direction from where they’re all coming from, meaning that they aren’t coming from their base. This brings us to our next problem, what we’re going to do about it. The only thing I can suggest right now, which I believe may actually be our only two options, is either we leave and find a new base OR we send out multiple people all round the general area of here just outside the boarders of this town where the forests are. Each mile will have two of our members, armed and ready to capture and interrogate anyone that comes from outside the town. This includes anyone who seems innocent to the eye I.e. a mother and child as we all know by now there are families who have been a part of the Death Eaters for years, long enough for them to welcome their children. If you see a mother and child however, you of course don’t attack them straight away, you take them for questioning and more importantly, you look for that damn skull snake monstrosity that they all have tattooed on their left forearm.”

George stands looking between each of his guys trying to gauge what they were thinking by their faces.

“So what’s it to be? Hands up if you think we should move”

No one put their hands up and George smiled knowing that everyone in Triple W are too loyal to the town of Diagon to even consider leaving.

“Good choice boys, now” he rubs his hands together “who’s volunteering to be part of the watch team?”

- Y/N couldn’t believe her ears when she heard the plan to trick Triple W into following her back to the Death Eaters. She also had no idea that the beautiful silver diamond necklace that hung lazily round her neck was the stolen Weasley heirloom.

The actions of her family disgusted her, she knew that what they stood for and what they were doing was wrong, but putting her in harms way all over a stupid rivalry, AND tricking her into thinking that the necklace she had was a gift. She felt so stupid for believing them, Y/N had no options but to accept that she was going to have to go along with their horrendous plan and bait George and other members of Triple W into following her back into her family and Riddle’s evil grasp.

“Perfect” Riddle smiled grimly when Y/N accepted

“But of course, we can’t just lure them in, in one mere night, no, you have to spread this out over the course of a few days. Have him become intrigued by you, follow you a little while. You’ll be staying in a place called the Leaky Cauldron, don’t let him see you in there, it’ll blow your cover. Make sure he only sees you walking through the streets. Got it?”

Y/N tentatively nodded her head

“Good, and then, when the time is right, you’ll lead him straight here. We’ll be in communication with you, don’t let me down”

Y/N shakily made her way to Diagon, bags packed and the necklace still hanging round her neck. She had since changed into a black, silk dress, helping the bright silver of the necklace stand out against the dark colour of her clothes, further, of course to draw George Weasley’s attention.

Once she had settled into her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she was given specific instruction to make sure she wondered round the street at night, as that is most likely when Triple W members will come out from wherever they were hiding.

Y/N took a step out into the cold crisp night air, her heels click clacking off the stone pavements. She couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the town, cobblestone roads winding all through it, the windows on each building slightly askew but somehow didn’t seem out of place. It was as if she were walking through an old victorian town.

Snapping her thoughts back to the task at hand, she pulled her black shawl over her shoulders more and continued to wander aimlessly round, trying to find some form of clue as to were Triple W were hiding.

- George was more than satisfied with the outcome of the meeting they had today. He had 40 people on a list to keep watch each mile surrounding Diagon, meaning that all 20 miles would be covered. They all had their instructions ingrained into their heads and were ready to get to work the next day. Fred and Ron as usual would stay within Diagon with George, communicating to those who were out surrounding the area getting updates and passing round information. George had also decided to send a few extra spies out, including his younger sister Ginny to be on the look out for any Death Eater members who may still be lurking round the town.

George, Fred and Ron made their way out of the old bar room, and onto the streets. George made sure that they each had means of contacting each other. Fred whom George would normally live with, agreed that they each should have their own flats or place to stay in order to cover more of Diagon, and therefore be more accessible to those out in the forest. With their last goodbyes and a few phone calls to book places to stay, the three brothers separated all going in opposite directions.

George headed down the street, his hands becoming slightly red from the cold, and he could see his breath in the air. The dim orange streetlights barely lighting up the path as he walked past the old crooked houses and shops.

Just a George turned the corner he bumped into someone, a woman, dressed in a black dress and shawl.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I wasn’t looking where I was going properly, these damn street lights barely light up 2 feet in front of you. Are you alright” George asked looking into her eyes with worry

“I’m perfectly fine, sir, thank you” she smiled back and walked away

But George followed her with his eyes, more specifically he followed her neck, because what was hanging from it made him do a double take. He knew those diamonds from anywhere, they way they glistened brightly in every light. Was that, his mother’s stolen necklace?

Taglist: @amourtentiaa​ @love-peachh​ @pens-and-roses​ @rosietoesy​ @comfortwriting​ @famdomhideout​ @dracofknmalfoy​ @pandaxnienke​ @georgeweasleysbabe​ @le-weasley-simp​ (MESSAGE/ASK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

[13uswntimagines]

Good Thing I wasn’t asking (Kelley O’Hara x Reader)

Request: Sequel to Touch Starved. Your Parents show up unexpectedly and Kelley might lose her cool. Just a little bit. 

Author’s Note: So there will probably be a part 3 in this series after i get through my request list! Let me know what you think and hit me up with questions or concerns. 

You were on a high. A massive high after your win over England in the she believes cup, a win that partially came from your very own hat trick. You still had one more game before you were inevitably crowned the She believes champions, but Kelley felt that your hard work had earned you a reward. 

She smiled as you cuddled into her side on the elevator. You were dressed in a pair of her #5 uswnt sweatpants and an old Stanford sweatshirt, a beaney placed firmly on your head. Part of your reward was that you got to go to dinner in daddy’s clothing, and Kelley thought you looked absolutely adorable swimming in her clothes. 

“You excited for dinner baby girl?” She asked as the elevator door dinged open, winking at you slightly. You nodded enthusiastically, tucking yourself under Kelley’s arm. You were sure that she had picked something you would like, something that probably resembled a cheeseburger or pizza. 

Kelley laughed at your excitement, guiding you towards the front door of the hotel, unable to take her eyes off of your blinding smile. She had an amazing night planned out for you, she was going to completely spoil her baby girl (Both in the bedroom and outside the bedroom). 

“Ah finally. We’ve been waiting for you for hours,” The deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, the smile slipping off of your face, your good mood disappearing in an instant. Your father heaved himself off of the lobby sofa with an agitated huff. He pulled his suit jacket straight, his nose scrunching slightly at your closeness to your favorite soccer player. 

“And do we really need to have another conversation about acceptable clothing Y/n,” Your mother’s shrill question had you swallowing back a cringe. You glanced down at yourself, you loved this outfit. It made you feel safe and comfy and wrapped you up in Kelley’s amazing scent. 

Kelley’s eyes snapped up to meet your parents’ gaze, taking in your father’s far too expensive suit and the gaudy pearls that adorned your mother’s neck. 

You straightened your back, and schooled your features, but did not untangle yourself from your girlfriend. 

“We didn’t know that you would be here. Why are you here?” You asked formally, blinking at them in shock. You were in Chicago for the tournament but didn’t think that it was important enough to warrant a visit. You had prayed and downplayed it enough to get them to stay as far away as you could get them. 

Your father’s face hardened as though he had been challenged, a thick line forming just above his brow. “Seeing as you were in town, we decided to introduce you to another worthy suitor,” He intoned, stepping to the side to reveal a boy who looked to be about your age. He was conveniently handsome you supposed, with dark hair and bright eyes, but you would never ever want him. He couldn’t hold a candle to your girl, and you were about a million percent sure that she could pull off his suit way better than he was. You suppressed your eye-roll, why couldn't your parents understand that you were happy with the woman of your dreams? You felt Kelley tense beside you, and you squeezed her waste comfortingly to reassure her. She had no competition here. 

“um, we’ve talked about this. I’m already in a happy relationship and I don’t need your assistance,” You said carefully but sternly, tilting your head to the taller woman in your arms. You didn’t want to start a fight, but you refused to let them walk all over your girlfriend. Your mother’s lip twitched in disdain, and your father's face hardened. 

“Ah, Kelley will you be joining us for dinner?” Your mother asked, sickly sweet. It was the tone she used when she was annoyed but didn’t want anyone to know. The one she used when someone she deemed to be beneath her was interrupting her plans. You opened your mouth to challenge the implication, but your very beautiful girlfriend spoke for you.

“Actually, we already had plans, but perhaps we could go out to eat another night,” You stated, smiling tightly at your parents. The last thing you wanted to do right now was deal with your parents, and if you could avoid it, you really wanted to. 

“Nonsense. We’re free and David is free. Y/n will go change into something presentable and we will be off,” Your father said dismissively with a wave of his hand. Kelley opened her mouth to protest but was again cut off by your soft squeeze of her side. 

She finally tore her eyes off of your uninvited parents to glance in your direction. Her eyebrows furrowed when she took in your defeated expression and the way you seemed to sink into yourself, a complete 180 to the exuberant mood you had been in mere moments before. Why did they think they had the right to just barge in and destroy your plans? Who gave them the right?

Your eyes were firmly locked in the ground as you nodded lightly. It was just easier to agree and avoid an argument. Kelley hated how you were always giving in to them to gain their approval. 

“I’ll be down in a few,” You mumbled sadly, kissing Kelley’s cheek and untangling yourself from the woman. She held onto your hand for a second longer, squeezing your fingers to reassure you that she wasn’t mad, and trying to get a good read on you. You smiled sadly at her, it seemed that your reward would have to wait. 

“No more than 5 minutes young lady,” Your father called after you, as you hurried towards the elevator. You didn’t want to know what he would do if he decided you were wasting his time. It was as though he didn’t even care he had unconvinced you and forced you to change your plans. He watched you go with irritation. What he was irritated with, Kelley didn’t know, but he always seemed to be wearing a frown around you.  

“And wear something presentable for David,” Your mother added with a huff, grumbling about your lack of fashion sense under her breath. Kelley rolled her eyes, you looked amazing in whatever you wore, whether it was a floor-length gown or one of her old t-shirts. You were gorgeous inside and out. She just wished they could see that. 

*****

“Look, I know this is uncomfortable and I just wanted to apologize. They didn’t tell me that she was in a committed relationship,” The suitor said quietly, sitting down next to Kelley on the hotel lobby couch. Your parents had commandeered the bar area, and she wanted to be as far away from them as she could be. 

Hence why she was sitting on this fucking couch, her knee bouncing, staring at the poor boy whose name she didn’t care enough to remember like he had grown three heads. 

“Excuse me?” She asked exasperatedly. The boy smiled lightly, his kind eyes meeting hers. He wanted to be here just about as much as she did. 

“They never said that the girl they wanted me to meet was in a relationship and I apologize that they are ignorant enough to try and break whatever you to have up,” He said. Kelley nodded at him, returning his smile. 

“Thank you, David,” she murmured, and he shook his head as if to say that the thanks weren’t needed. He had seen your smile and the way you leaned naturally into her touch. The way she had kept her arm around you as if she was grounding you. Whatever the two of you had was incredibly special, and he wasn’t about to try and break that up. 

“I’ll try and run as much interference as I can. She didn’t exactly look happy to see them,” David laughed, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably, and Kelley felt her lips tick up. He didn’t seem like a bad kid, just a poor soul that got mixed up in your family’s bullshit. 

“No, she wasn’t,” Kelley nodded, turning towards the elevator when it let out its telltale ding. Her breath left her, her train of thought screeching to a halt when you stepped out. A loud laugh sounded from beside her, but all her attention was on you. You looked fucking hot in that little black dress. Just so… delicious. 

You blushed under Kelley’s hungry gaze, well not really Kelly’s. Daddy’s hungry gaze was probably more accurate. 

“Hm, better than that monstrosity you were wearing before, but still not up to par. You really should consider going on that diet I sent you dear,” Your mother appraised you, the tension between you and Kelley evaporating into thin air. 

Kelley frowned. You were one of the top athletes in the world, and your abs could rival those of Hope Solos. You had one of the strictest diets of the team, and Kelley was always trying to get you to relax a little. 

“Ready to go?” You asked, sending your mother a tight smile. Kelley took that as her cue to grab your hand and link your arms, placing a very sweet kiss on your cheek. You leaned into her, allowing her strong frame to ground you, to support you, because God knew you needed it.  

“You look amazing as always my love,” She whispered in your ear, placing a very short kiss on the skin just below it. 

“You’ve already made us miss our reservation with your lackadaisical attitude. I will not let more frivolous behavior hinder us again” Your father glared at the two of you, his agitation clear. You cleared your throat, and Kelley straightened.

Complementing you was never a waist. She would take absolutely every opportunity she had to make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Spending that extra second to make you feel good was worth missing even the most important reservations in the world. 

*****

Kelley was going to die or kill someone before this meal was over. You hated overly fancy restaurants (like why the fuck would you waste 70$ on a plate of subpar food?), yet here you were munching on a much too expensive salad (Kelley knew how much you despised uncooked green vegetables and lettuce) while your father basically took a cheese grater to you accomplishments, ambitions and love life. So yes Kelley was not pretty sure that she wasn’t going to make it through this dinner. 

“I don’t know when you’re going to come to your senses and realize that your soccer ambitions don’t provide adequate financial support,” Your father said seriously, pointing his steak covered fork in your direction. 

“Yes, and David has a very secure position in our firm. He could more than easily provide you with a satisfactory lifestyle,” Your mother added, smiling at the boy who was looking increasingly uncomfortable at your parents' attempts to set you up with him. Kelley released a low huff, opening her mouth as if to respond. You placed your hand on Kelley’s knee, and her mouth clicked closed.

“I can assure you that our income is more than sufficient to accommodate our lifestyle,” You said, taking a bite of your very sucky salad. Between your world cup winnings and the numerous sponsorships you had acquired, you weren’t doing half bad for yourselves. You sure as hell didn’t need David’s income. 

Your father stiffened, glancing up from his meal to glare in your direction. 

“I think you had a slip of the tongue,” He growled, unhappy that you were embarrassing him in front of one of his employees. You sent him a confused glance, tilting your head to the side unsure of what he was talking about. 

“You indicated a shared lifestyle and income base dear,” Your mother smiled fakely at you, laughing at what you assumed was your empty-headedness. 

“I know. It wasn’t a mistake. Kelley and I are in love. We live together. We share a life together,” You ground out, setting your fork down, and leaning forward. You didn’t understand why they didn’t get that you were very serious about Kelley. 

“Love is for children,” Your father spat, taking a far too large bite of his disgustingly expensive steak. “And when this honeymoon phase runs out, you will be very sorry that you have spent so much time wallowing with this… woman. Sharing her bed like a common whore,” Your father finished. Your grip on Kelley’s leg tightened in an attempt to hold back the very obvious and angry thoughts trickling through your head. How could they be so close-minded? How could they not see that you were finally happy and respect that?

The silence at the table was defining and heavy, while you and Kelley sat in stunned silence. Your parents continued their meal, completely oblivious to the weight that settled on your half of the table. 

“Um, I think I’m going to go to the bathroom for a moment,” You mumbled, folding your napkin in a hurry and moving to stand from the table. You needed a second to compose yourself. A second to sort through your emotions so you could continue this dinner with a level head. So you could smother the overwhelming urge to punch your father in the face. 

“I’ll go with you,” Kelley said, also moving to stand, but you shook your head. You knew that Kelley- Daddy could make everything better. She would wrap you up in her arms, and you would be safe to break down, to give into the sea of emotions crashing over you. You didn’t want to do that. You needed to maintain control. 

“No, I just-... I’ll be back in a minute,” You stuttered, rushing off to the bathroom before the tears could fall. Kelley worriedly watched you go, a frown settling on her face. You rarely ever pushed her away like this. She turned back towards your parents, her lips a thin line. If you wouldn’t stick up for yourself, then she was going to do it for you, her protective instincts coming out in full force, and the very heavy ring settled in her pocket spurring her forward. 

“It’s sad, you know?” She hummed, taking a bite, and drawing your parents’ attention for the first time of the evening. Your father quirked an eyebrow at her as if daring her to continue. The last time they had met ended badly, and she was sure that this was headed in that direction. 

“That you are so blinded by your pride and arrogance that you can’t see Y/n’s accomplishments and the amazing life she had created for herself. Without your help,” Kelley said seriously, maintaining eye contact with your father. He sighed, finally setting down his fork and leaned back in his chair, schooling his features as if he was in a negotiation with a lawyer he didn’t like. 

“I suppose you’re talking about her agreement to enter into a fling type relationship with you?” Your mother scoffed, all pretenses of kindness evaporating. 

“No. Not at all,” Kelley shook her head, ignoring the accusation that she was only using you for sex. Your father’s eyebrow ticked up in interest, and she took that as her cue to continue. “Y/n is one of the best soccer players in the world. She was the Fifa player of the year, holds the record for most goals in both a season and a single game, as well as a world cup champion. She scored the winning goal against the Netherlands,” Kelley listed off, resisting the urge to yell at the people across from her like she wanted to. Your parents didn’t respond like normal humans. The only way to get through to them was to present it like a business deal. 

“Her career will be short-lived, much like your relationship. What happens when she gets injured, or a newer younger player comes in and shows the world what a subpar athlete she really is?” Your father questioned, unwilling to relinquish his stance that you needed a real job. Kelley sighed. She wasn’t one to follow traditions, but maybe telling your parents about her plans would get them off your back about marrying a man. 

“First, Y/n works her ass off to be the best, and that makes the difference. Secondly, I would stand by her no matter what her ability to play was, and thirdly, I don’t know what else we have to do to show you that our relationship is far from short term,” She ground out, beginning to lose her patience with the people across from her. David seemed to have shrunk as far as he could in his seat, wishing he was anywhere else. 

“This is just a stubborn phase for Y/n. You are just a phase,” Your mother snorted, a vindictive smile playing on her lips. Frankly, your girlfriend was tired of them minimizing your 4-year relationship, and she was about to blow their minds. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the velvet box that was the key to your futures. 

“This isn’t a phase, trust me. I’m going to make your daughter my wife,” Kelley said loudly, placing the box on the table. Your parents froze, their eyes glued to the small object. They had ruined her proposal plans, so she had a very hard time feeling sorry for ruining their dinner. 

Your mother slowly reached out and opened the box, a gasp leaving her lips when she saw the mesmerizing ring Kelley had chosen for you. Kelley grabbed the box and returned it to her pocket so you didn’t see it until she intended for you too. 

“I do not give you my consent or my blessing to marry my daughter,” Your father said, his voice shaking in what Kelley assumed was anger. She smirked at the man, standing from her seat. 

“Good thing I wasn’t asking,” She spat as she stalked off towards the bathroom to collect you. She wasn’t going to let you sit through another moment of this abysmal night. Hopefully, she could salvage the rest of it. She had a very good girl to reward if she remembered correctly.