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deathbecomesthem · 3 months

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Cat and Mouse | Chapter 2 | 2.2K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI - Adult Content

Eddie Munson x Fem!Preacher's Daughter!Reader

Chapter Summary: This chapter is an introduction to our Reader's home life. Take caution, religious trauma and sexual shame within.

A/N: This chapter is full of angst, fear, and humiliation. There isn't a lot of Eddie contained within outside of our thoughts of him. I promise, it gets better. Right now, we're taking a look at what home feels like. Expect another update of this fic over the weekend.

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Blink.

Good morning, Hawkins. It’s 6:05 on this hot, hot, hot summer morning.

Blink.

High of 91 with a chance of thunderstorms after 5.

Blink.

Right now, let’s get your motor running with the help of my favorite blonde bombshell.

Blink.

The light seems to be blinking in rhythm with Madonna’s Papa Don’t Preach as you sit and consider turning your car around and heading back to Nancy’s. You had promised your parents you’d be home this weekend to watch your younger siblings while they were away on their retreat. You groan as you turn the wheel and head to the house where your dreams have rotted on the vine.

Things have been tense at home in recent months. Instead of feeling the comfort of home, you feel stifled when you walk through the front door of your parent’s house. The Reverend is a hard man with high expectations of his oldest daughter. Ever since you announced your intention to take a gap year rather than immediately joining the ranks of the faithful young adults of Bob Jones University, you’ve been teetering on the edge of danger with him. There is the constant threat of a raging storm behind his horn rimmed spectacles.

He knows the truth of the matter, that you are not planning to go to Bible college. That the promise of “next year” will inevitably turn into “never”. He’s just waiting for you to admit it. He’s waiting for you to say the truth. He’s waiting, with the patience of a saint, for you to tell him and your mother that you plan to shirk your responsibility to the family. To the church. To your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. On that day, he’ll know what to do. He cannot make you do the right thing, but he can take everything you love in this world. You know this as well as he does, and it’s been a game of dodge and deflect. There is no comfort in the split level ranch at the edge of Roan, Indiana, only pitfalls and booby traps around every corner.

What the Reverend and his dutiful wife don’t know is that you’ve been making a plan. It’s on shaky ground, but it’s taking form. Karen Wheeler has been a lifeline to you, getting you a job at the library at the community college between Roan and Hawkins. She helped you open a bank account that neither of your parents know anything about. She’s offered you the basement room of the Wheeler house. The temptation to leave the Reverend’s home is only mitigated by the thought of leaving Rebecca and Noah, your brother and sister. If you leave, you know you’ll never be welcome back through those doors again.

The highway is dead this early in the morning. Your mind continues to drift, back to the previous day. Your mind travels back to the one thought that has been persisting since you laid eyes on his thin frame - Eddie. For the first time in your 20 years, a boy rejected your advances. Even the ones you don’t want fall apart around you. It’s a blessing and a curse. Boys are easy. Steve is a case in point.

Not Eddie, though. Yes, his eyes told you he wanted you, but he flatly rejected you. It won’t do. No. He made you feel silly, he made you feel unwanted. It makes you angry to think of it, and you crank the wheel harder than necessary to make the turn down Elm Street. Eddie Munson, the metalhead stoner, has the upper hand. How infuriating.

All thoughts about the curly haired grinning metalhead evaporated when your family home came into view. Without being aware of it, you’ve started biting and peeling your fingernails to the quick. Shit, your mother is going to notice and berate you. Before heading to the front door, you checked yourself in the rearview mirror, wiping away any remaining mascara that may have collected under your eyes. Hair pulled back tightly, you grip your backpack to your chest and enter the house.

You can smell coffee and pancakes. Mother always makes hot breakfast for your father and siblings on Saturday mornings. The stairs in front of you lead up to the bedrooms. You could go straight up and shut yourself away before they realize you’ve made it back home. Hand on the railing you hear his booming voice, “Pumpkin, is that you?” You return your right foot to the ground with a sigh and head towards the clanging of silverware on plates in the kitchen.

“Hi daddy.” Your lips met the scruff on his cheek before he could ask for a kiss. “Do you need help with anything, Mother?” You ask the woman at the sink. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, makeup may as well be tattooed onto her face with the precision in which it was applied. 7:30 in the morning and she was ready for war, just like every morning of your life.

“No, dear, your father has been waiting for you. Sit.” Sit is what you do. Your hands obey your training and find themselves folded in your lap, back straight, eyes on the man sitting at the head of the table. Bible sitting next to coffee mug. You wondered if he’s waiting for you before he starts the morning devotions. With furrowed brows, you realize your younger siblings were missing from the table.

“Pumpkin, thank you for coming home like I asked. Mother and I are leaving in an hour.” He takes a big swig of coffee and a last bite of pancake. His finger finds his Bible, and he pokes it fiercely as he does sometimes when he’s at the pulpit on a Sunday morning. “We need some prayer time, you and I. Especially after you’ve spent so much time at the Wheeler house.”

You can’t help but let the confusion show on your face. You know that your parents disapproved of the way the Wheelers lived. They give their children far too much freedom, and Karen lacks discipline. Plus, she “dresses like a whore”, your mother’s words. They don’t even go to church on Sunday mornings anymore. “Daddy, where are Rebecca and Thomas?”

“Oh, they’re spending the weekend with your Gram. Didn’t your mother tell you?” For fuck’s sake, of course. They just wanted you to come home, they dodn’t need you here. You know better than to start an argument with your mother while your father was in the room, so you bite your tongue and shake your head.

“No. I thought I was watching them this weekend while you went on your retreat.” Your father’s head is nodding up and down, acknowledging what you’re telling him.

“Well, Gram decided she wanted some time with the little ones, so you’re off the hook.” His big hand found your own and gave it a little squeeze. “I’m glad she forgot to tell you. I’ve missed my girl.”

A plate of pancakes is set on the table in front of you. You catch a sideways smirk on your mother’s face. She didn’t forget. She hates Karen. She’s jealous of the relationship between the two of you. Or maybe, she’s jealous of the way that Karen lives her life. The way you’ve begun to spread your wings a little, pushing at the walls of the confined life your mother has built for herself and her family.

“We��ll be gone until Monday evening. I left a list of chores that need to be done in our absence. I already informed your Bible study group that they could meet here this evening.” You almost start to protest. You had planned on canceling the meeting, hoping to use your babysitting as an excuse. “Don’t worry, we trust you to be the well-behaved young woman we raised.” She knew you were going to weasel out of it. The Bible study had been her idea. Just another way to keep you occupied and out of trouble.

“Thank you, Mother.” You smile warmly at her, not giving her the satisfaction of appearing disappointed. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with them meeting here?” The question is for your father, and you notice your parents exchange a look. This had been discussed already, you realize.

“Oh, I think you girls will be just fine. No overnight guests while we’re gone, though.” With that, he rises and kisses your temple. “Come to my study when you’re finished. We will spend some time with the lord before I leave.”

At your father’s exit, the room falls silent, apart from the sound of your mother washing the breakfast dishes at the sink.She is up to her elbows in soapy water despite the dishwasher that sits, unused, under the counter to her left. She doesn’t believe in using it, she trusts the efforts of her own two hands over the machine designed to ease the housewife’s burden. It’s her burden, after all, and God does love a hardworking woman.

The pancakes in your stomach feel as if they are expanding. It seems impossible that the zipper of your jeans could already be pushing against a bloating stomach. Your mother had placed 3 on your plate, and you knew that you had to finish them or else deal with her disappointment. Furious rage disguised as motherly concern. Speed is the key, you must not give your stomach the time to adjust to the thick buttermilk pancakes before getting them past your gullet. You cut them all into bite sized pieces and started to shovel them into your mouth. You’re unaware that your mother has turned from her chore, and she’s watching you eat.

“I see you’ve picked up some manners from the Wheelers this week.” Her disapproving frown and head shake freeze your movements mid bite. It has the desired effect as you sheepishly change the grip on your fork and resume your eating in a more ladylike manner. “Your father and I are leaving in an hour. Deacon Andrews will be driving by to check up on you throughout the weekend. He’s promised to call me if you’re not here.”

She always thinks of everything.

“Yes, mother. I’ll be here, I promise.” You tell her, biting back at words that sit on the tip of your tongue. I’m an adult, and I can leave the house when I want.

With your last bite, you rise and begin clearing the table. The mess your father had made would be yours to deal with, it is a woman’s job to keep the house tidy and running smoothly. It amazes you how easily you fall back into these habits when you’re in this house. The routine is a comfort to you, but it pains you all the same.

As you hand the dirty plates to your mother, she meets your eye with a sternness you are not expecting. Her voice is low and conspiratorial as she whispers, “I found what you were hiding. Father doesn’t know. You need to spend some time in your prayers and seek forgiveness. Those carnal desires inside of you are an evil you must resist.”

No, no, no. Fear shot down your body from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. Without a word, you stumble through the kitchen, up the stairs, and into your room. You shut the door gently, not making a sound. A feeling, panic, is gripping your chest tightly. The thought, She didn’t. No. She can’t have, plays on a loop inside your mind. The bitter taste of humiliation begins to crawl up your throat at the thought of what she found inside your room. Your room.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips when you see it still sitting where you left it last. You remove the books and lift the box out of its spot. Dread. Horror. Mortification. You knew before you even opened the lid what you would find, the weight of the box is all wrong in your hands. Inside, the secret box, is a Bible tract. You recognize it from the shelf next to the entrance of your father’s church. It takes the place of the small silicone device that Karen Wheeler bought for you on your 18th birthday, followed by a conversation about condoms and birth control. You remember the way she kept her eyes focused on yours, never flinching from the topic at hand, simply explaining in plain language the things that you had been taught were evil and sinful. After all, Karen Wheeler knew about the pregnancy scare in the summer of your 17th year, something neither of your parents could be trusted with. Worst of all, though - that small leather bound journal where you keep all of your most precious thoughts - gone from its secret spot.

In bold letters on the tri-folded booklet you had seen so many Sunday mornings when entering the church sanctuary - “What does the Bible say about LUST?”

Tears fell hard and fast, shame and anger at having been caught. Humiliation. You lower yourself to the ground, your forehead presses against the carpet of your closet. You think about what you’ve lost, the least of which the small vibrator used only twice since Karen gave it to you. The journal is gone. Your words, your private thoughts, are gone. Worse still, they are in your mother’s possession, where she can twist them. Make them dirty and vile. Your truest thoughts turned to ash, never to be thought by you again.

Tagging: @tomtomslongdong@big-ope-vibes@jo-harrington No pressure to interact, but I want to make sure ya'll see it if you want to read it.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things

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gayofthefae · 4 months

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Just watched this and man, with this actual solid contrast, I’ve gotta be honest. I MIGHT still ship Milkvan. Like at least a LITTLE bit more. Or be torn, like-

Because it actually feels climactic. It culminates in a series of flashbacks in their relationship, Like they did with Elm@x. It didn’t seem to take too much time away from her fighting even and it was shortened enough that it totally could still include some of his reasoning like “I’m sorry I don’t say it more, I was scared saying how I feel would make losing you hurt more”. Boom. Done.

In this version it shows their moments and that were theirs by choice. The ones ABOUT their relationship. In this version it shows his speech as distinctly what motivated her. We remembered just fine that Max was endangered, so this makes it look like he helped save her rather than him motivating her then the final push being her hearing Max choking.

It’s good. And most of all, they’ve done it before. Long speech in a climactic moment that didn’t feel like distracting or counterproductive (2x08). Supporting a major moment with memories of love via flashback (4x09-El and Max).

And you can totally still intercut all the other characters across the globe helping like they did as it culminates in this one moment. Cut between them and then back to her intercutting as she releases her own vines then the big moment with Vecna. It works! If you want to keep Max, you can even show her further motivating El after the vines have already started to loosen to cement the initial inciter being Mike.

Most of what I see of GA is that they feel like they were supposed to feel something in this scene so they take the idea of the failed goal and use that for their predictions. But it is an entirely different prediction if you’re working under the assumption that they succeeded.

They know they didn’t write this. And they know how to write this. We know how to write this. And they’ve even done it before! This was purposeful.

Honestly, even just ONE of those memories in the flashbacks instead of the meeting one to personalize it more would have made it.

#i trust the duffers #byler #ily speech #anti milkvan

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maliciouslove · 1 year

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𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕

SFW—fantasy AU, aged up characters (21+)

pairing //fairy!bakugo x reader

summary // a story about a stubborn fairy born from laughter, refusing to abide by fairy law and instead adventuring into the world to find its maker.

word count // 1.2k

tags // fantasy AU, fairies, platonic love, platonic soulmates

AN // some flower language background you may need

daffodils: symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, bloom in spring, usually in april orange tulips: symbolize understanding and appreciation between two people, being spiritually and physically connected to someone

The sound of raindrops on flower petals, the smell of daffodils in spring and the promise of new beginnings—rebirth. Vermillion eyes open for the first time, the faint sound of laughter echoing over the rainfall.

A tiny figure rises from inside the blooming yellow flower, sleek golden wings engraved with shimmering patters like moving vines shake off the remnants of slumber and spread wide on the fairy child’s back, full of life and eager to explore.

In the haze of feelings being born and searching for memories that have yet to be created, crimson eyes gaze into the sky above—a rainbow forming in the clearing sky as the rain dies down and makes way for the fire in his heart to light up.

Katsuki is the name this flame fairy was given by the unnamed gods, born with fiery determination and unquenching, burning desire in his soul. From the moment his eyes open and he takes in the world, takes his very first breath of air—hundreds, millions of questions bloom inside his mind, making him eager, impatient even to find his answers.

Normally, flame spirits are mischievous, they bring warmth to those who need it, but they can also set forests ablaze, burning down what stands in their way and defies them. Flame fae are temperamental, never staying in one place for long, their mood as volatile as the fire in their hearts. But all fae folk are born with purpose—they are born from laughter and they fulfill a role, upholding the laws of nature and providing the world with magic that the humans cannot perceive.

Fairies bring rain after long droughts, then turn it into frost—a single touch of theirs makes flowers bloom each morning, their songs replacing the sun with the moon. From the moment their wings flutter and their eyes take in the world, they know what they must do and they diligently do their work each day. Such is fairy law.

Yet Katsuki denied these laws—his only purpose being to answer the one question that burns the brightest in his mind, to quench his ever burning desire to meet his maker. To find the person who’s light and gleeful laughter he heard as he took his first breath of life that faithful spring day. He needed to understand what made him who he is, to observe this magic bestowed onto humans to be able to give life to his kind.

So letting go of his responsibilities, against the better judgment of his elder spirits, he sets out on his own adventure, following his own blazing path as he searches for answers. Through forests and meadows, taking shelter from the rain under amanita mushrooms in the forest and using elm tree leaves as makeshift umbrellas, he kept marching forward, directionless but with strong resolve.

No matter how many times the sun and moon take each other’s place, no matter how much the stars plead him to stop—his ruby eyes only look forward and his golden wings carry him high. Sharing burrows and seeds with field mice, asking sparrows for directions and following butterflies to patches of flowers that he could use as beds at night.

Katsuki has long since forgotten how much time had passed, how long he had been searching—not knowing how far he had even gone. But that would not stop him, uncertainty would not extinguish the fire burning in his eyes as he sets out each morning to search for that which he had not yet met. So full of hope and desire, he flies up to an orange tulip at sundown, appreciating the flower under him mimicking the sky above in fiery shades of orange—tinges of pink at the tips.

He curls up inside the flower, settling on the soft petals and being careful not to harm the stamen inside. The fragrance of the flower calms him, gently coaxing him to sleep and bringing pleasant dreams to the fae. In his dream he’s wandering amidst flower fields, chasing that laughter again—the sound as sweet as he remembered it, full of life and joy.

The melody of it guiding him home.

Katsuki is abruptly woken by the rustling of leaves nearby, a somehow familiar tune being hummed as his own flower bed trembles and he feels the world shifting under his feet. Poking his head above the flower petals it becomes clear to him the tulip he was using as shelter was picked and placed in a basket amongst other tulips, all in shades of red, orange and yellow.

He turns his head and is met with eyes he’s seen before, in his dreams—eyes full of promise and adoration, eyes that reflected his love back at him. These human eyes should not be able to perceive him as he was a fairy, born of magic that has always been beyond the grasp of humans.

Yet he was sure that you could see him—taking in his tiny frame, carefully memorizing every detail of his outfit made from leaves bound together by corn silk, inspecting closely the features on his face. Your eyes sparkle with curiosity and innocence, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen adorning your features.

From the moment his eyes met yours, his purpose became clear to him. His long search is finally over—fate had brought him to his final destination, for these magical eyes could only belong to his maker.

From inside his flower he waves shyly and is greeted back with the most delightful giggle, just like he remembers it. The sugar laced melody of your voice brings tears to his eyes as the fire inside his heart no longer rages violently, untamed, but calmly spreads from his chest to the tips of his fingers that reach for you.

Your hand stretches out to him, slowly and carefully as if he might get scared and run—index finger making contact with his tiny hands in a makeshift handshake. To him your smile was brighter than the sun, drinking in your voice as you introduce yourself to the tiny fae, asking questions that he could not answer as his voice could not reach your ears.

But even so, he gestured animatedly, smiling and flying around, using his body and his surroundings to do his best to answer you—to communicate with you.

“What brings you here?” you ask, hands placed in your lap as you sit on the grass amongst a field of flowers—your beauty overshadowing that of the tulips.

Katsuki’s wings flutter to life and like a golden ribbon of light he circles you, stopping in front of your chest and placing his little hand over your heart. Though there were no words spoken, you understood he was here for you, and you could feel that unspoken and unseen bond between you.

The feeling of familiarity seeped in your skin and bones, soaking through to your heart and soul and giving you the ability to see colors and beauty where you had not seen it before. The small frame of the golden fae rests in the palm of your hand now, and you can understand him—with every fiber of your being you understand that this magical being is woven from the same thread you are.

Therefore the next words that roll off your tongue in a whisper feel natural and ring true:

“Welcome home”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

#holytext #exe #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #fairy bakugo #sfw #bakugo sfw #bakugo fluff #bakugo comfort #katsuki sfw #katsuki fluff #katsuki comfort #katsuki bakugo sfw #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo comfort #bnha fantasy #bnha comfort #bnha fluff

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kob131 · 2 years

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"The writers aren't going to listen to their fans, because they can't even be bothered to listen to their own staff, because they "learned their lesson" to "listen to their gut" and "stick to their guns," and to ignore anybody who tries to educate their CisHet White Male selves on the matters of positive and accurate representation. Not just queer, but with everything. It happened with Jaune>Ruby, it happened with the White Fang, it happened with Emerald, it happened with Flynt Coal, it happened with Jaune>Ruby again, it happened with Yang, it happened with Cinder, it happened with Tyrian, it happened with Jaune>Ruby again, it happened with Pilot Boi, it happened with Ghira, it happened with Blake, it happened with Leo, it happened with Ilia, it happened with Sienna, it happened with Adam, it happened with Oz, it happened with Salem, it happened with Jaune>Ruby again, it happened with Terra Cotta, it happened with Ironwood, it happened with Marrow, it happened with Elm, it happened with Vine, it happened with Harriet, it happened with Clover, it happened with Qrow, it happened with Winter, it happened with Penny, it happened with Jaune>Ruby again - over and over and over and over and over, the fans have spent the past ten years explaining exactly how and why [X problem] was actually a real, tangible problem, with the writers either blatantly ignoring it, or hand-waving it away with vague and empty promises to "be better about it," only to pull the exact same shit all over again.

Ten years of hundredth chances, ten years of patient (or in some cases, not so patient, which is why we get villainized) adherence to the "Just Wait" rule, ten years of practically begging to see even tiny improvements only to be left hanging (or worse, to be directly baited as Eddy admitted happened with Fair Game, and then to be attacked directly by crwby itself and treated as if we were "just imagining things" and that we were "just horny salty fanboys" and that "it's not bait if we never intended to canonize the worm in the first place" and that it's our fault we were foolish enough to think Rooster Teeth would include queer rep and tentatively bit down on the hook) ten years of having it be PROVEN to us that the people who do most of the writing for RWBY write it specifically with a White Straight Male audience in mind, because at the time of RWBY's creation, data shows that Rooster Teeth's fanbase was 93% Male identified and 7% Female identified, and the separate demographic that was attracted solely to RWBY itself was just basically bonus income on top of that."

I saw this and I think it's a good showcase of an older RWBY critics. So let this be a lesson to the RWBY stans who not so coincidentally sound exactly the same.

For those who don't know what they're referring to, an old RWBY AMA on Reddit had this from Miles-

"-Boi howdy, did that take us by surprise. There's always a background character that gets super popular. Last season it was the Waitress. This season it was Pilot Boi and Cute Faunus Guard. Interesting story, we originally had a line for the Pilot that subtly told the audience he had a boyfriend back in Atlas (this was done in our attempt to get better about having more LGBTQ+ representation). However, when scripts went out to the team, a number of crew members were concerned that our first homosexual character with a line of dialogue addressing his sexuality was going to die in the very next episode and was "also kind of a selfish jerk". Soooo, we scrapped the line. Next thing we know, he's the most popular character of the volume and we're kicking ourselves for not sticking to our guns."

And the whole spiel is about how they wanted to keep Pilot as LGBT due to his popularity even though he's bAd rEP. Except that what makes bad representation (being stereotypical, being one dimensional ect.) makes a bad character IN GENERAL. It's why bad writers, no matter their subgroup, can't write good representation- You have to be a good writer. And given that Pilot Guy was so prevelant in Volume 5, he clearly resonated with/entertained so many people. So making him LGBT would have made a fan favorite LGBT, making it far more likely he'd be accepted. That's what happened with Illa. It's what happened with May.

But then, they don't care about the writing. Read it again- they care that the people don't have the right fucking genitals or melatonin content. Or rather, they don't get what they want EXACTLY when they want it. So they lash out like selfish children, crying about how thy don't get their cookie until after dinner. Except they DID get their cookie and they're being a greedy shithead.

Example? OP's own fucking examples.

Jaune>Ruby? Only happened in Volume 1...in the most shallow way possible (given that Ruby herself was a big part of JAUNE'S OWN ARC). Volume 2 gave her the involvement with the actual plot as well as her moment with Penny, Volume 3 gave her Penny's death, Pyrrha's death and being the driving force behind THE REST OF THE SHOW and Jaune got...a half baked arc that was made about Ruby in the only Volume where it got more than a episode (Volume 4).

The White Fang? Basically just "FUCK YOU FOR NO SUPPORING MY POLITICS!" With said politics being "Let me be as racist as a person from the 1920's.'

Emerald? Basically 'HOW DARE YOU MAKE A VILLAIN DARK SKINNED?!' while ignoring that she was a better person than her white cohorts (Roman, Mercury, Cinder).

Flynt Coal? Calling racism over a name (because 'black black')...while ignoring the German 'White White' girl.

Yang? That they skipped over her character arc...then gave her the lion's share of Volume 5 which they ignored because Jaune got mad at the woman who murdered his best friend for nothing was right there.

Cinder? Talking about her being a bland villain...which got shot and killed in Volumes 7 and 8.

Tyrian? Something something 'psychopath is offensive to people with mental disorders'. Completely ignoring LEGITIMATE PSYCHOPATHS..

Pilot Boy? See above.

Ghira? Something about him not being allowed to be seen as competent. ... Even though they accept Sienna being competent despite doing ACTIVE harm because Blake said so...in the same monologue saying Ghira was just as effective and more stable, just slower.

Blake? Her acting 'like a bitch' in Volume 4 despite the very clear reason of 'I just went through tramuatic events and am going through an arc.'

Leo? That having a Fanaus headmaster be a villain was racist. Even though he was still better than every other villain not named 'Emerald' present. He even got a shot in against Raven.

Illa? Psycho Lesbian...right in front of Adam 'Wannabe Racial Supremacist' Taurus. Also got redeemed and everyone went mysteriously quiet, almost like no one wanted to own up to their bullshit.

Sienna? See the WF section and add in racism accusations because Indonesians can't handle a fictional character dying apparently.

Adam? See WF section AGAIN.

Ozpin? Calling out the CRWBY for having the leader of the good guys preaching trust keeping VERY IMPORTANT secrets because 'uwu sad backstory'...after spending three years calling him the true secret bad guy.

Salem? Something about her not being a good villain because generic, cookie cutter complaints that really mean 'You will never appease us, slave.'

Terra Arc-Cotta? 'Racism' 'Why?' 'Fuck you!!!'

Ironwood? Some bullshit excuse about prosthetics that fails when you look at everyone with prosthetics which is just a cover for 'Gimmie my husbando or else.'

Elm, Harriet, Vine, Marrow? See above because no one talks about them outside of being an extension of James.

Clover and Qrow? 'We decided they were gay which not even half of the LGBT fanbase saw so you did a bad.'

20 swings, all misses.

This is not some grand outlier either. I have seen HUNDREDS, if not a THOUSAND criticisms. I have seen about a couple dozen stragglers and a half dozen consistent producers of good criticism...of which only THREE (Faboover, that Whitely Blog and Dual) are still around.

It's all just entitlement. 'You dared to ascertain your ownership over something you made so now I will bully you into compliance.'

As OP would say, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

Tens of thousands of chances on hitting a fucking t-ball. They always miss, split their head open on the bat and then try suing for damages after proclaiming themselves so much better than the coach.

Fair Game is a perfect example. Nothing was explictly romantic...or even implictedly. It was just some guys bonding. I have seen actual ship baiting (Amorshipping from Pokemon) and Fair Game does not fit. People picked up on some flirty animation that the WRITERS didn't intend for, used a character for their purpose and people shat themselves. Blaming them for YOUR immaturity is fucking disgusting.

But hey, this is how the crowd has ALWAYS worked. Don't give them what they want immediately? 'Kill yourself, Monty hates you.' Give them a background couple? 'Give us a major character, kill yourself.' Give them a tragic villain with a defined personality? 'Psycho Lesbian, kill yourself.' Give them a couple with a child? 'Doesn't count, kill yourself.'

Time after time after time after time after time- They demand shit by using their DEAD FRIEND as a soapbox and bludgeon and then move the goalposts so they can threaten and attack them.

We know this for a fact- the Camp Camp blog incident provided the psychos.

Oh did you think I forgot? Silly little fragile hypocrite- I will never forget.

You fucks are some of the most psychotic pieces of shit I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. I also remember how the very SECOND you got push back, that you had to eat your own shit for once, you cried foul.

No matter what you fucks try, I will not forget. And you will NEVER escape your bullshit.

You don't deserve to be listen to. You deserve every little bit of pettiness and disdain...times a hundred.

P.S. They do mention the Glassdoor incident...for half a paragraph.

"ACTUAL LIVING PEOPLE got hurt? Eh...BU WHAT ABOUT MY EGO?!"

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the-path-to-redemption · 1 year

Note

ask meme - renora, elm x vine, frostbite

ask meme

Long post ahead

Renora

Get my boy Ren away from that white bitch, she does not deserve him. SHE DOES NOT DESERVE REN FOR THE BULLSHIT SHE PUT HIM THROUGH.

This ship is another one that Canon made me DESPISE it, and by extension Nora. I'm sorry, but I was fucking seething at the way she treated him. Nora didn't give a shit that Ren was stressed out about their situation (rightfully so), instead of listening to his worries she kissed him without consent, when he got justifiably angry with the crew, she joined the rest of them white bitches and made him out to be the VILLAIN when he came in to check on her.

Hello? Nora, Ren just got through hell, being slammed through rocks, dragged across the tundra trying to save Oscar, had to save Jaune and Yang's useless asses, got shit on by Yang for being frustrated, met the devil and barely survived an explosion, and you still think he was being irrational?? And it's his fault that your relationship deteriorate??? Bitch, have some fucking self awareness.

I legit have no love for Nora or the ship anymore. Sign this petition to get Ren better friends, God bless 🙏

Elm x Vine

Jesus Christ, were these two done wrong.

I wanted to see more of them to be honest, but both Elm and Vine were victims of RT's racism, so sadly we have shit for them. I wanted them to be on screen more damn it, I know these two are married!!

But overall, it's the same with any Clover ships. They're cute, but nothing more because these guys don't got shit to them.

Frostbite (Adam x Weiss)

Fuck you RT, they are fucking foils to each other and if you would let them meet, your show would've worth something FUCK YOU GIVE THEM TO ME SOBS

Adam and Weiss should have met, and they should've kicked Jacques' ass together. Weiss should have been confronted with the sin of her family's legacy, and Adam should have been able to have his pain be fuckimg recognized. WE DESERVED BETTER THAN THIS.

They were hurt by the same name, by the same man, and lost a part of themselves that they will never physically or mentally get back. These two have so much narrative foil to each other, and I will never be happy again thinking about what canon did to this potential. FUCK YOU RT.

#answered #anonymous #ask meme answered #ship meme answered #rwde #rwby critical #adam taurus #weiss schnee #elm ederne #vine zeki #lie ren #nora valkyrie #renora #rwby frostbite #rwby flower trail

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s1r3ns-c4ll · 1 year

Text

Request Rules/Who I Write For/Masterlist Link

Hello hello! the name’s Siren and here’s the post where you can see what you can request, who I write for, and eventually a masterlist as I start putting up requests and my own little writing blurbs! You’ll Find all my Hogwarts Legacy and RWBY fics on the masterlists and the tags #Siren HL and #Siren RWBY

Masterlists:

Hogwarts Legacy RWBY (Coming Soon)

Fandoms I Write For (Might Expand Eventually):

Hogwarts Legacy

RWBY

What I’ll Write:

x Reader (GN will be the default if not specified, but I will write fem/masc reader focus if requested!)

Platonic

Poly

Non-Explicit Mature Themes (teasing explicit themes, but not actual smut will be written)

Headcanons

Ships

Angst

Hurt/Comfort

Fluff ( I love fluff with all my heart ;) )

What I WON’T Write:

Works glorifying S/A themes

Rape/Non-Con themes

Abusive themes (I can elude to pat experiences but will never explicitly write works with abuse being the focus)

Smut

Illegal age gaps

Incest

Hateful content that paints another character in bad light (ex: “Can you write something where [sweet character] does [bad thing] to [sweet character] and reader helps them through it?”)

Extremely dark themes

Hogwarts Legacy Characters:

Poppy Sweeting

Natsai Onai

Samantha Dale

Imelda Reyes

Anne Sallow

Garreth Weasley

Ominis Gaunt

Sebastian Sallow

Note: I’d love to write for every Hogwarts Legacy character! But on Tumblr, there is a heavy focus on Sebastian, Ominis and Garreth (Mainly the two Slytherin). So I don’t discourage requesting them, but please do send requests for our lovely women in the game :)

RWBY Characters:

Team RWBY:

Ruby Rose

Weiss Schnee

Blake Belladonna

Yang Xiao-Long

Team JNPR:

Jaune Arc

Pyrrha Nikos

Nora Valkyrie

Lie Ren

Team CFVY

Coco Adel

Fox Alistair

Velvet Scarletina

Yatsuhashi Daichi

Team SSSN(N)

Sun Wukong

Scarlet David

Sage Ayana

Neptune Vasilias

Nolan Porfirio

Atlas ACE-OPs

Clover Ebi

Marrow Amin

Vine Zeki

Harriet Bree

Elm Ederne

Others:

Winter Schnee

Emerald Sustrai

Penny Polendina

Ilia Amitola

Neo

#Siren's Masterlist #Siren RWBY #Siren HL

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

wanna be yours pt five | mcu ; p.maximoff

A/N ; Okay, so first of all... Oops. i have not updated this in lifetimes. I honestly got a little stuck as to what I wanted to do next BUT... trying to work on this pivotal future scene for a Stranger Things x reader fic I'm writing ironically is what brought me this idea? So anyway, yeah... This is uh... spicy.

Pairing ; Pietro Maximoff x Stark!Fem reader

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; part I - part II - part III - part IIII can all be found by clicking. after AoU, Stark will not be dying, Pietro did not die, and frankly, Idk how much of the events in the actual films I'm pulling from just yet -if any. I might just do this like a lil "sneaky" relationship kind of thing, maaaybe.

Tag List ; @beardedbarba is the only person on my MCU masterlist however, I would like to tag @micolegg - feel free to ignore if you like dear! . if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including MCU , please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; blackout, reader is scared of the dark ooh, dry humping -kinda, making out on the couch in the dark, cute fluffy moments leading up to that.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (headcanons fluff/filth alphabet only + no wrestling) -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

Everyone else was on a mission or out on the town for a night. This left you and Pietro alone together in the towers. You settled in on the sofa with red vines, popcorn, sour patch kids and a few sodas and your favorite horror movies and you figured that at some point, Pietro must have left too because you hadn’t seen him in hours.

Nightmare on Elm Street was just getting to the really good part, one of the gorier ones in the movie where Glenn is pretty much eaten by his waterbed and then thrown up all over his bedroom walls and ceiling. The storm that’s been threatening to hit for hours by now finally decides to start and outside in the city, the thunder and lightning roll noisily in the sky. At one point, just as Glenn is about to get it, you can feel someone watching you, so you pause the movie on the big screen and you turn around to find only yourself in the room.

You shrug it off and lean forward, picking up the package of red vines and peeling one away. As you raise it to your mouth to take a bite, eyes glued to the bloodbath on the screen in front of you, Pietro’s sudden appearance in the room makes you jump up a foot in the air and clutch your heart as the scream dies on your lips.

He glances at the screen and cringes, chuckling quietly. “How do you watch this shit, draga mea?”

“With my eyes, Pietro.” you retort, giving him a playful smirk. Pietro falls to the couch right beside you and you nearly choke on the bite you’d taken of your red vine when you feel his hair against your bare thigh upon sitting down again. You can feel the damp of his hair against your leg. You can also feel his eyes fix on you and linger.

But you don’t say anything to acknowledge it. You’ve gotten used to him being around. And now that he’s actually started to talk to you more instead of just being sexy and broody all the time when he’s lingering like this, it’s kind of nice.

Comforting.

Your hand lowers and cards through damp platinum and brown curls as you continue to watch the rest of the movie. Pietro rolls onto his side at one point and when his mouth grazes against the exposed skin of your thigh, it’s like someone’s just given you a low volt electric shock. And your tummy flutters a little before you can stop it from happening. After he settles into place, you lower your hand again, dragging it back through his hair.

He looks up at you and bites his lip, his eyes settling on your mouth for seconds that stretch and linger just long enough that you can feel your stomach really flutter as your lips tingle and you find yourself unable to think about anything other than what his mouth might taste like.

The movie playing comes to an end and you look down at him. “Do you wanna watch something different?” as you hold out the slim remote in your hand. Pietro takes it and as the remote changes hands, your fingers brush against his palm and you bite your lip. He pulls himself to a sitting position and starts to flip through the movies you have saved on your profile on the television.

As the realization hits that you only have horror, true crime documentaries or those silly romantic movies saved, Pietro’s gaze shifts to you. Then he smirks. He picks the first Indiana Jones movie and holds the remote back out to you. You take it and stifle a yawn as you sit it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Pietro glances at his leg and stares at you and you swallow hard.

“If you’re tired.” he says with a mild shrug. You know it’s probably not a smart idea all things considered, but your desire to be close to him outweighs rational thought at the moment so you stretch out on the sofa with your head on his thigh. The opening credits roll and Pietro’s fingers move through your hair slow as he settles in. You reach out to grab the bowl of popcorn and with a chuckle, he grabs it first. You pout and he shrugs, taking a handful for himself. “Open your mouth.” he mutters quietly. When you do, he tosses a piece of popcorn in. You roll onto your side so that you can reach up into the bowl and you dig around, collecting a handful for yourself. “Open your mouth.” you’re smirking when you look up at him and say it.

This turns into you and Pietro, sitting up on the sofa and tossing popcorn at each other’s open mouths. Laughing about it when him or you misses. The storm outside picks up and the electricity flickers for a moment and then it’s total darkness.

Because while your father is Tony Stark, this does not mean that the Tower is immune to blackouts.

You’ve never particularly liked the dark and the blackout happens quick enough that before you’ve realized what you’ve done, you’re sitting in Pietro’s lap. You hide your face because it’s so stupid and childish, it’s only a little storm and darkness.

Muscular arms wrap around you before he can think to stop himself. Thick fingers drag up and down your back, trailing over your spine as he pulls away a little to look at you in concern. “Afraid?”

“Ha ha.” you mumble, pouting. “I know it’s stupid, I just… I hate these fucking blackouts. The darkness, bad storms and small spaces are my biggest three fears.”

Pietro makes a mental note of this, although… In the back of his mind, he can’t say he’s entirely displeased about the fact that the blackout and the storm have led to you, sitting in his lap with your head against his neck. The scent of strawberry and cream shampoo filling his nose as his nose nestles against the top of your head. He can feel his cock getting harder by the second so in order to keep things from being too awkward, he shifts himself around a little.

But it doesn’t help.

And as the storm starts to intensify, you seem to melt into him and breathe in and out, the soft warmth of your breath tickling at his neck. His fingers dig into your body a little and he’s humming because he wants to relax you while taking his own mind off of the effect your body against his body is having on him.

But the humming doesn’t actually work. And then you’re looking up at him and all he can do is stare at your lips with heavy debate on kissing you. You swallow hard because you can’t stop staring at his mouth and when he drags his tongue along the outline of his lips while staring at your mouth, you can’t take another second.

Your hands drift upward, one resting against the thick column of his neck as your fingers caress his cheeks. The other hand clutches at his bare chest. Before you know it, you’ve settled yourself even closer to his body with your legs wrapped around his waist as your mouth slowly closes the distance to his. Pietro seems to pick up on what’s happening at the same time and he starts to lean in too, his rough lips collide with yours as his hand tangles up in your hair and uses the grip he has on it to deepen the kiss. The first time he rolls his hips up into you from below, your nails dig against his chest until there are little crescents in his skin. His tongue dominates and he’s mumbling to himself in a mix of Sokovian and English, kissing you harder and more frantically until you’ve forgotten to breathe a time or two and you can feel your lips start to swell. His hands are all over you, they won’t stay still or settled in one place too long and the more he touches you, the more you come alive in his lap. Rocking yourself against the way he’s pitched a tent in the track pants he’s wearing. And those track pants are thin. Unforgiving. You can feel every single inch with each rub against him.

You pull apart to breathe and you’re dizzy and breathless. As you both catch your breath, you lean against him.

One thing is inescapable for you. Now that you know what his kiss and his touch feels like, how can you possibly expect yourself to keep trying to fight whatever is happening off?

You can’t. You’re fucked.

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro maximoff x stark!fem reader fanfiction #pietro maximoff x stark!fem reader imagine #// minors absofuckinlutelynot.

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

Text

Thursday 23 July 1840

10 ¾

very hot in the night but slept well – all quite ready at 5 – the horses lost – no not brought home from the pasture till 5 ¾ .:. wrote the whole of this page so far till now 6 – they brought us more bread and a couple of rice boiled fowls – A- went to church at 2 a.m. to prayers for ½ hour – went into the neat little church on coming away and gave one of the monks for the charity box 1/. silver and on mounting my horse the Kelossan (who had got us everything last night) being there gave him an abasse, - and off at 6 20/.. R19° at 5.am. – we seem to go out of this valley nearly due north and then turn (right) to nearly due south east – off at 6 20/.. – Sunday 26 July stop at 6 32/.. for A- to sketch monastery on square high basement wall our balconies hanging over, and 2 chimneys à la Turque to our room and another rising like steam engine chimneys on the south side – neat little Church – wood beech, hornbeam, oak birch and some elm and Spanish chesnut, and much of the shrub treemale // A-‘s sketch done in 10 minutes – off again at 6 ¾ - at 7 25/.. fairly at bottom and a few fields of Indian corn – perhaps a 100 yards of selvedge (thalweg) – the valley gradually opens a little – at 8 5/.. turn (left) up steep grassy hillside and at top at 8 ½ - fine look down upon corny valley we have left – high above the wood (right, and behind us) a wall of

SH:7/ML/E/24/0162

Satchikéri [Sachkhere]

hoary calcareous rock – and look down upon wooded corny largeish combe our river Djerootchĭ winding in the bottom and escaping thro’ deep rocky wooded cleft (Ecluse) – and 5 minutes afterwards picturesque good lane tho’ Indian corn and vines to village of Starārki – some fencing here and before (2 stakes tied together and leaning bars one upon another resting their heads between the coupled stakes as in Sweden and Norway – very hot sun now at 7 40/.. a.m. near Satchikéri [Sachkhere] a Georgian Russian employé (de bureau) arriving from Koutaïs came up with us and rode with George – says 25 monasteries great and small in this district of Satchikhetti – 13 families of Tseritelli live here – prince Grégoire the best off – his house on the plan of that at Oni but rather larger? looks very handsome on the hillside – a brother or 2 live a little distant – arrived just below the house and took shelter from the sun under the verandah of the cowhouse at 9 ½ - sent the Cossack and Adam with the paper –the prince received us – A- had begun sketching the fine old ruin of castle on ridge of rock high above us a little distant to the right – at 9 ¾ sent compliments and to say we would go to the castle – about an hour away, and then go chez le prince – left A- sketching and set off our Jew guide Eliza Danielitch – difficult road – not up at the castle till 10 ½ - enter East – a square tower at each corner both apparently about the same size – enter at the north corner along narrow corniche of rock to the tower, projecting and low (about 5ft. x 3ft.) door in the projection fronting the south – tower and court full of the princes’ goats and goat herd with them – court 10x15 yards – old Koupchines – immense red pot amphorae buried up to the top in the ground of the court – round stone well (i.e. cut in the rock) about 2ft. diameter communicating with a great rain water reservoir below the surface of court (also cut in the rock) said the man – the court is divided off from the narrowing part behind it by a line of building containing 5ft. side a more modern building – in the middle a little 5 foot wide vaulted church and north side little square tower kitchen 4x3 yards suppose it to have been the kitchen from the sunken oven – the more modern building seems to have had 4 (about 3ft. 6in. x 2ft. 6in.?) windows looking south down into the fine valley, and to have been about 7x5 yards inside – the part been these buildings soon narrows off to a mere passage of about 5ft. wide between the 2 walls (all that the breadth of the ridge of rock would allow) leading to a little square tower occupying the whole end of this singularly picturesque hoary calcareous rock – the door into this tower being à la Teutone, I did not get in – George scrambled along one of the outside walls and got into it – stone vaulted ceiling and straight staircase to chamber above but des immondices that he did not go up – the entrance tower measured inside by the breadth of a breadth of my pelisse = 40in. is 5x40in. + 6in. = 17ft. 2in. and 4x40in. + 6in. = 13ft. 10in. i.e. entrance tower 17ft. 2in. x 13ft. 10in. they say it is not many years since this Krepost was abandoned by the Russians – the prince Grégoire T- has 3 brothers one bishop at our monastery but now at his country house another a colonel in the Russian service – the rez de chaussée of the entrance tower is ceiled in stone (boulder and irregular stone well grouted) with evident traces of this having been faced with boards – the ceiling chevron wise as at Rêbi i.e. Ghebi – left this interesting old castle at 12 10/.. A- and I walked down leaving the horses to the men to get down as they could, and walk to the hall – passed along the piscina – well stocked with fish – fountain with run of fresh water (about an inch bore pipe at moderate pressure) constantly running bought from far – the prince received us very graciously – a remarkably fine man between 40 and 50 – the tallest I ever saw? apologized for the princess – not well – we found on the table some slices of medium thin cake, and a cold boiled fish (perch or carp?) from the piscina, and slices of horse [?]? very pungent – and liqueur and wine, and lemon and sugar and cold water in a [?] silver very pretty antique shaped pitched we made lemonade – another lemon was ordered – we used that too, and enjoyed our

breakfast exceedingly then came poulet soup excellent and then poulet (I use the word poulet to mean between chicken and fowl) – we declined ham – I was so thirsty, I drank besides the lemonade several glasses of weak wine and water and then feeling sleepy our host left us (at 1 10/..) and I threw myself on one of the 2 divans, and slept till 2 10/.. much refreshed – very hot – then till 3 20/.. looked over his books – we were in his room – very good of him to give it up to us – the house not finished – the upper story of the 2, the one inhabited – this last quite finished and the rez de chaussée probably still less –

among the books Typographia Tiflis. 1819. Russian and Georgian vocabulary

Telemachus M.S. Georgian written by prince Grégoire himself small folio with small 4to. line engravings – “C.A. Wortmann sculptor Petropolis. 1763”

Curious small folio line engraving (with explanatory text in Latin) history of our saviour “Hieronymus Wierx sculp.” no fate – the 1st engraving is the annunciation – the archangel Gabriel holds a turncap lily in left hand – always 5 petals – why this lily?

at 3 20/.. went into the open salon – prince G- there – very intelligent – sent for George again to interpret – advises us by all means to see the monastery of ................ cut out of the rock – steps cut in the rock lead up to it – the only thing of the kind in the country – would not be much out of our way –

Satchikhéri [Sachkhere] to the monastery of Djirōotchi 15 versts

monastery of D- to Oni 40

should not go from Satchekhéri [Sachkhere] to the source of to Kvirila 60v. but from Oni along the Djedjora 40v. we were within 20v. of the source (a like with swampy ground about it – no snow mountains in sight) when we turned (left) to the iron mine – the road from S- to the source of the Kvirila is (beginning at no great distance from here) impracticable for horses – I see there is a long narrow gorge (an ecluse) to pass along, which must be very fine – Satchekhèri [Sachkhere] to Sarapana [Shorapani] 55v. we could go in 2 days very well –

Satchikhèri [Sachkhere] to Koutaïs 44v.

Satchikhèri [Sachkhere] to Koutaïs by Katsree and Tchārĭ 80

S- to K- by Khotevi and Kreiti [Khreiti] 100+

200 houses in the valley of Satchikhéri [Sachkhere] – the soil very rich but the people dont know what to do with it – the whole property (the land) divided into 8 – eight Tseritelli are the princes, seigneurs, owners of the district – the Russian chef of the district is at Sarapana [Shorapani] an old Greek settlement – prince Grégoire Tseritelli 3 ½ archines high or 2 ½ breadth of pelisse + 1 in. = 40in.x2 ½ in. + 1in. = 101in. = 8ft. 5in. I do not reach, with my casquette on, quite to his shoulder – the emperor is only 3 archine high – admitted into the princess room about 5 and had tea in glasses with slices of lemon – she a large fine-looking person – in bed with a dark blue (calico or linen?) chemise on – ill depuis un mois – maladie de femme – blood flowing to the head – could not sit up even in bed long – sister to prince Dadian père .:. aunt-in-law to our young princess D- and Dadian père married the sister of prince Grègoire so that the old princess D- lately dead, of whom Dubois speaks, was sister to our prince here – he says she was as tall nearly as himself smoke like a man than a woman – Dubois was at Satchikhéri [Sachkhere] and spent one night at prince Gregoires’ but he did not speak of him as if he had been particularly taken with him – from the princes’ manner I should judge the contrary – and it is odd that Dubois does not mention having been at Satchekhéri [Sachkhere] – prince G- engaged – had something to do for government – and the princess ill, or would have gone with us everywhere – sent a man with us and we took George and A- and I out at 6 – Georges’ uncle Shutka, tambour major at St. Petersburg, ¼ ar. = 7in. taller than prince Gregoire –

SH:7/ML/E/24/0163

fine broad open rich valley – the finest largest, widest, says prince G- in the Caucasus, and next the Ratchas-piscine [Racha] 16 yards x 4 – fish breed here none put in unless when very young – fed once or twice a day – about 6 a.m. and in the evening, cela depend, on bread and Indian corn – a large piece of table-rock in the middle on which the fish are fed – they are called together by the bell-ringing (a little bell hung at one side of the place) – the piscina covered over with long thin board roofing like the houses – lowish roof – 6 or 7ft. or 8ft.+ to the square and good flagged way all round – nice cool little walk – castle calcareous rock white and chalky at bottom as shewn by an open [?] down place (a chalky scar) and compact limestone hard rock of which the castle is built – 6 years since house was began her e- built by men from Trebizond – the house at Oni to be soon finished by the same – the prince goes there in a fortnight – better here in winter and Oni in spring and summer – Hotter here in summer? A- sketched from 6 20/.. to 6 ¾ - then walked thro’ the bazaar i.e. the main street of the village one or 2 little shops where printed calico handkerchiefs etc. to be sold – several shops shut – rather too late – picturesque scattered village – all the 6 or 7 good houses we see are inhabited by Tseritelli – on returning went into the princes’ little wood church, near the house – he is very pious – has a private chaplain, and goes to matins and vespers regularly every morning and evening – the princess, too, very pious, and attends prayers as regularly when well – home about 8, and sat talking to the prince till 8 3/.. in the open salon (Hēïvān) – must go to Elbrous [Elbrus]? from Gori – 40 or 50 v. from there – good road can go in a teleaga – R23 ½° and F85° now at 9 50/.. p.m. in our room – Supper (alone) from 9 8/.. to 9 50/.. poulet soup again and poulet and salted and fresh cucumbers and apples as at breakfast – then ¾ hour catching fleas – then running about one is as bad as the biting – very fine day – only took my pelisse off did not undress –

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bridgyrose · 2 years

Note

could you do some Elm x Robyn fluff?

Elm dropped her fishing gear into the small shack and sat down. “And you’re sure this is going to work?”

“Of course it will,” Robyn said as she started to ready her own fishing pole. “Ice fishing is easy. We drill a hole into the ice over the lake, drop our lines in, and wait.”

“And this is… exciting to you?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldnt it be?”

“I figured your idea of fun would be more… I dont know… chaotic?”

“Because of how I saved Mantle?”

“Because of how much trouble you caused for us.” Elm sighed and sat down to relax on the bench. “Though, I will admit, it was fun to chase you.”

Robyn grinned. “Because you always got to watch me walk away?”

“Cant say the view wasnt good.”

Robyn shook her head and sat down. “It was fun while it lasted.”

Elm nodded and grabbed the crank drill to start slowly drilling into the ice to make sure it wouldnt crack around them. “And now that you’re on the council, its different to see Atlas trying fix Mantle up.”

“Mantle didnt need fixing, it just needed to be seen as an equal.” Robyn finished baiting her hook and took Elm’s fishing pole to do the same. “And I think that’s the biggest problem Atlas had. The kingdom is like a tree, Mantle is the roots and Atlas is the leaves. In order for the leaves to grow, they have to spread out towards the sun, but they also need to help keep the roots protected and healthy. If the roots start to die or wither, the whole tree comes down. And for Atlas, the same thing goes: if Mantle starts to rot because its not getting the care it needs, then Atlas wont be able to stay afloat forever.”

“Dont let Ironwood hear you say that. He’d think you’ll be coming for his job next.”

“As if I want to run a school. That’s May’s job.”

Elm let out a small chuckle and pulled the drill out of the ice. She smiled as she watched a few fish swim into view of the hole and was less than surprised when they didnt stick around long. “How long do you want to try with this?”

Robyn shrugged and handed Elm her fishing pole. “Dont know. I told the girls I’d be away for a week or two and Fiona is taking my place on the council for now. So… maybe a couple days before I’ll need to go back to make sure Mantle isnt at war with Atlas.”

Elm nodded and plopped her hook into the water. “Then, maybe we should head back the day after tomorrow. Just to make sure everything is still the same.”

“Dont you trust your team to try to keep the peace?”

“Clover and Vine, sure. Harriet… not so much. Not after Joanna beat her in a race.”

“Her fault for celebrating before victory.”

Elm nodded and moved close to Robyn to let her lean against her. “Though, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Robyn leaned against Elm and nodded, her fishing hook dropped into the water. “Yeah, I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

#rwby #elm ederne #robyn hill #drabbles #fluffy drabbles #elm x robyn #is there a ship name for this one yet?

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courtclover · 2 years

Text

@eiiskonigin sent: 9, 10, 16, 17 [ SHIPPING QUESTIONS ]

what do you think about crossover ships? would you play any?

I don’t mind doing crossovers anything, just as long as it’s from a series I know and recognize or that I am interested in. I honestly would do a crossover ship, but you know it has to have chemistry between mun and muses.

what do you think about poly ships? would you play any?

I actually really enjoy poly ships! I actually want more because I’m selfish 🥺👉👈 I lowkey ship clover x qrow x winter and clover x winter x robyn and ironcharms so you know 👀

what’s your NOTP when it comes to your muse?

Any ship with the main cast of kiddos or Penny, Mercury, Cinder, Emerald etc. Clover is middle age. I’m not shipping him with anybody in the 15-23 age range.

what’s your BROTP when it comes to your muse?

Elm Everdeen and Clover Ebi are best buds for life and you can’t take this away from me. They are gym bros. Clover is Elm’s spotter on the bench press. Clover spoke at Elm’s and Vine’s wedding. Elm saw the attraction between Clover and Qrow from miles away and was the first on the team teasing Clover about it. They are best buds for life. I will die on this hill.

#( ☘ ooc — when do i stop crying about clover? ).#( ☘ ask answered — secure transmission ).#thank you!

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the-deeds-to-shibden · 2 years

Text

Monday 10 August 1840

[Anne misdated this entry as Monday 8 August]

[up at] 6 55/..

[to bed at] 12 25/..

finish but dull morning – another peep at the old church and palace and picturesque (ruined down the circular dome over the ground floor) square (a tower?) clocher with stone stairs outside – we had latterly had all the ladies and people in our room and following us – the princess herself watched me dressing thro’ the little lattice close over where I slept – hung up my cloak against her without pretending to see her – the cat had eaten Ann’s 4 or 5 boiled eggs and part of a cheese in the night – the good old prince was up to say good bye – excellent people – their worst habit (especially of the ladies) sitting doing nothing all day –

Off at 8 3/4 to breakfast with prince Alexander Dadian 2 hours off – gave the house steward or maître d’hotel who had brought us everything 1/. and the man who went with us last night ./20 quite satisfied – beautiful all hereabouts – our road winds along foot of hill on which our 2 old kreposts of yesterday evening, and down along the other side to the river (Teahoorah) – at the old baths merely 1 little place 4 x 2 1/2 yards largest side where estrade (on which was the bath?) and 3 yards long other side – not high stone fronted – vaulted top – scramble down the slippery limestone rock to the river and just below under the bath building little spring of good, clean, tasteless just-warm water – the scenery steep wooded rock along the river and the wooded knolly hills and green pastures in the bottom and white house on knoll near, and prince Alexander’s sâcle and its appurtenances at a little distance beautifully picturesque – the white house what we saw from the 1st castle i.e. entrance to acropolis last night – but no view of the old castles, no glimpse of them from anywhere save one peep about 1/2 hour foots pace+ after leaving Nakolakévi – 1/4 hour at the little bath river beautiful between its high rock winding wooded banks – chiefly beech with oak and some elm – the vines hang chiefly on alder and Hōōmĕlăh trees the latter (the plaqueminier or pyrus diospyrus?) – this beautiful country does indeed grow meat and drink and clothing Indian corn and millet, and vine and cotton –

off from the little bath at 10 5/.. – retrace our steps some distance then turn (left) down to the river (Tēĕhōōrăh) and ford it at 10 18/.. in 3 minutes Ann riding between our prince (as Adam calls him) and Adam – broad deep stream, up to the tallest horse’s belly and rather above quite as deep as we could ford – holding up my feet I could not keep them above the water in 1 part – on getting out of the water Adams horse came against me, and broke my poor Koutaïs soup plate – a real calamity! 2 or 3 minutes from the Teahoorah ford the little Pōlshă broadish shallow clear stream – At 10 40/.. alight to breakfast chez prince Alexander Dadian – not at home – but seat ourselves in the Otach of his sâcle and breakfast very comfortably Ann on her raw eggs beaten up with wine and the cheese of last night and I on my Choni cheese and the bread of the monastery of Martvili of which Ann also nearly one roll (the little Tchooreks) – 5 hours from here to Zugdidi – asleep – (ready to be off at 12 but the servants prepared breakfast for our people and Adam begged for 1/2 till 12 1/2) –

off at 1 25/.. – they brought me a melon – not good – but Adam came and ate it up – he now says it is 6 hours trotting to Zugdidi – he has had too much wine – annoyed at him that he could not find out the distance before – we shall hardly be able to do it – our prince left us about 2 1/2 but only says to get his burca – now at 2 55/.. meet Cossack who says we are 7 versts from the post station of Kossakoff, and from there to Zugdīdĭ it is 29 versts!!! = 36 versts now at 2 55/.. – broad sandy hilly road up and down low hills – bridge at 3 5/.. over Tōō-ĕe-răh river – wood – 3 good arches – at 3 1/4 wicker covered tarendass-like long carriage and officer and lady stopping their horses pasturing – at bottom of hill – they are from Tiflis – soon after 2 cannon from Anaklia pass us – one drawn by 4 the other by 6 oxen – and at 3 40/.. in another bottom 27 or 28 pieces of ordnance including 2 or 3 shells? (saw one) all from Anaklia which Adam now says is our post station! impossible – one can get no information here as to roads and distances – at 4 1/2 Dĭs-sĕtch-ēē-năh village consisting of one white house and 3 or 4 huts – the only village in our route today – no villages near the high roads hereabouts – generally speaking, if one wants to go to a village one must go considerably out of one’s way – just below this village wood bridge over Ōtch-hŏm-mōo-rĕe river – picturesque broadish stream – at 4 47/.. long unparapeted good wood bridge over Chopiskeli river 8 arches (4 over the water 4 over now dry small bouldery bed) each arch 6+? yards span – river now about 30 yards broad? reddish-muddyish stream – at this river they say we are 1/2 way to Zugdidi – the district here on the other side (right bank river) called Lêtêche – ascend and at 5 stop for water at little hut – near the white neat house of major Lăbādă – at the Tchaniskali, wood bridge, 2 good arches, parapet, at 5 50/.. greenish-whitish good river – and here they say we are 2 hours from Zugdidi –

I alighted for 2 or 3 minutes (they had stopt for water) – a little spring and hut but nobody there – tore from my left thigh a little red horny tailed insect (rather like a cow-lady?) that was so fast I could hardly tear it off – and its left its sting or proboscis behind it – it seemed dead when before I tore it off – off again at 6 and in 5 minutes Tarquēēgĕ krepost on high knoll rising on wooded ridge of hill, en face, in the distance, and having a line of 3 or 4 square tower tops at this distance merely like chimney tops – but the castle very picturesque – pass one more river Gōōmĭskālĭ – not far from Zugdidi road branches (right) to Suchum Kale and left to Zugdidi – a little moonlight – stopped under great tree on the large green – the house lighted up but we, of course, are sent to the house for strangers – a very good gallery, and hall and anteroom and our room carpeted with persian carpets several men servants in waiting and 2 nice little femmes de chambre arranged our 2 comfortable sofas à merveille – pillows – couvertures – silver ewer and pitcher – chaise percée – large table – little round toilette and good glass standing on it – 2 chairs and 2 arm ditto – luxurious and 2 waxlights burning – I slept till they brough tea and excellent bread and fresh butter – we enjoyed ourselves – they then offered supper – impossible to eat more – tea over at 11 25/.. – finish but dull muggy day – Reaumur 19 1/4° at 11 3/4 p.m.

Anne’s marginal notes:

good river – broadish and deepish – and rapid here

curious biting insect

Zugdidi.

WYAS page: SH:7/ML/E/24/0173

#anne lister #ann walker #anne lister code breaker #gentleman jack #diary1840unannotated #russianempire1840 #georgia1840 #zugdidi1840

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