#mother's day render btw

[modormouth]

whoever guesses this eldritch creature gets to ask me a simple monster request.

[notiddygxthgf]

1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since. 

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye. 

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.  

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character. 

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did. 

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless. 

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless. 

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt. 

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission. 

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm. 

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later. 

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man. 

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker. 

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them. 

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs. 

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year. 

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses. 

“Choso, baby.” 

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.” 

“You brought protection?” 

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker? 

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck. 

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks. 

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him. 

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him. 

Take that, Choso. 

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side. 

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south . 

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me. 

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger. 

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you. 

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori. 

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances. 

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform. 

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around. 

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door. 

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips. 

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room. 

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you. 

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs. 

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index

[ffsg0jo]

�� his golden spear ��

character: dreamer!gojo × fem!reader (reader is poc/south asian coded but barely any mentions of physical features except nipples)

warnings: jjk × asoiaf , self-harm , madness , reader is from house martell , does NOT follow asoif canon everything is very vague/only minor references/not in timeline order , mentions of eye-gouging , mentions of death , ooc gojo , mentions of whores , reader has brown nipples urm i can't think of anything else , lowkey insta-love ish , some parts are disjointed on purpose , they dont know that hes a dreamer btw they just think hes batshit crazy , NO SPOILERS !!

w/c: 3.4k ish

a/n: this was written while i was sleep deprived and delirious, so read it with a handful of salt. it's been plaguing my mind, though, and i had to write it. it's also a lot longer than initially anticipated, so i hope you all enjoy it <33 all credits go to @sweetmelodygraphics for the dividers !!

fics4gaza :: jjk masterlist

Satoru was losing his mind. He's been having visions for the entirety of his life, vivid visions about the past, present, and future. At first, he thought nothing of them, being young and playing them off as his wild imagination or whimsical dreams. But when some were proven to ring true, fear struck through his heart.

His own mother's passing an example of it. 

He could barely make sense of some, and others were so clear-cut they felt like memories. But regardless, the sense of impending doom never left his body. The visions, as of late, had only been getting worse, distorting his sight.

It was strange. Sometimes, he'd go weeks without dreaming only to be suffocated by an onslaught of nonsensical dreams, seeing them whilst he was awake too, rendered unable to distinguish reality from his debilitating hallucinations. His head constantly throbbed and ached, and he's wracked with crippling nausea more often than not. 

Overwhelmed and overstimulated, Satoru feels like plucking his hairs out one by one. He doesn't know what to do with himself, his body on autopilot, dissociating when it gets too much for him. 

In writing down his visions, Satoru thought he could begin to make sense of them, maybe try and figure out patterns, but they only served to confuse him more. Hurt his head more, and suddenly, he found himself subconsciously scribbling images into the air, without a quill or parchment in his hand. Others around him started to whisper of his condition. Targaryen madness, they’d say, sending him pitiful glances.

He so desperately wanted answers and respite, starting and ending his days in tears, but his madness overtook him.

His visions, dreams, whatever the hell they blurred into real life, and he felt like he was losing his grip on reality. He saw his hands dissolving before his very eyes. It's true what they say about Targaryens. When one is born, a coin is tossed, and the whole world holds its breath. Greatness or insanity. 

Insanity ran through his dragon blood. 

He sees the decapitated heads of the three-headed dragon, meticulously being sewed back on with a golden spear and red thread. He saw his dragon, Vermithor, grazing on sheep in fields, burning bright orange. A snake, wrapping around his arm and squeezing him tight. He will see a hand reaching towards him, a shiny ring adorning each finger, a soft laugh reverberating through his ears.  

The laughter echoed in his head ever since. He heard it almost all day and night now. A brief respite only when he clamped his head tight between his hands.

His ears are permanently scratched and raw. 

The world strangely seemed to take a golden hue, and he felt like all the colours blur into one, and he could no longer tell them apart. He became breathless when his usually white hair turned red, his brilliant cerulean eyes, gold. The red bleeding through the gold, into orange, dripping down his skin.

He was trying to gouge his eyes out. He brought the valyrian steel dagger up to his face, and just as he was about to cut the stupid things out, the Lord Commander sworn to his father, disarmed him, tackling him to the ground. Satoru kicked and screamed and sobbed. He wanted the visions to end, he wished to see no longer. 

The small scar on the apple of his left cheek serves as a sorry reminder.

In attempts to subdue the noise ringing in his head and the visions blurring his sight (as well as any further attempts of Satoru harming himself), the blackest of black materials was tied tight around his head. With his ears sufficiently muffled, and his eyes bathed in darkness, he felt like he could breathe. 

It helped. He felt somewhat calm for the first time in years. 

Despite the cloth tied around his eyes, Satoru could still strangely see. Whilst it wasn’t as clear as before, he could still make out figures and shapes, and if someone was standing close enough, their faces. His good friend Lord Suguru had tried the cloth and was completely blinded, so it was odd that Satoru could see through it. Still, with his vision limited, he felt safe from his own mind, and it wasn’t the strangest thing about Satoru at all. Not by a thousand miles.

On occasion, his visions would come back, pain shooting through his spine, and nothing in the world could stop them. Definitely not the flimsy cloth tied around his head. In those times, he had to be restrained and constantly watched by guards, lest he pour scalding molten lead into his eyes and ears.

The Mad Heir is what they called him. A laughable name you thought when you first heard of the proposal that was brought to you and your father. You felt insulted. 

Satoru of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to The Iron Throne. 

The Mad Heir to The Iron Throne. 

How dare they offer you, a ruling Princess and Heir in your own right, a mad Prince. Marriages were rarely happy, oft filled with malcontent. The sanest of men mistreated their lady wives and what of mad men? You could hold your own, of that you were sure, but you did not want to go into a marriage fearing your life. You truly did want love to blossom in your union at some point, regardless of what seed sowed it. 

But if an alliance was to be forged, to unite the Seven Kingdoms, and strengthen your house, then you were to meet in a little more than a moons time. You had little choice, your father pleaded and was adamant that you met the Prince at the very least. Begrudgingly, you accepted. 

Packed and ready to set off, you mentally prepared for the long journey via ship. Maybe you'd get to see a dragon or two, you reconciled, forever curious about the wonderful beasts.

A marriage. That was exactly what Satoru needed. Another problem to add to his heaping pile of problematic problems. He did not understand why he had to get married. He was young, only one and twenty. He hadn't even had the opportunity to sample the whores of Flea Bottom yet. 

Not that he had any interest in whores to be completely transparent. Between his debilitating madness and constant training, lessons, and attending small court, Satoru barely had time to breathe. 

With his father's refusal to take another wife after his own mother passed came the incessant shoving of Satoru to marry his own.

He knew he was being stubborn; he knew realistically that if he did not breed, then the Targaryen line would end with him. If he had at least one or two children, if he was to pass before his time (which was looking very likely), then at least they'd inherit the throne. 

But Satoru was adamant that the Targaryen line would not end. He'd seen it in a vision, clear as day. A girl with long white hair and blue eyes that mirrored his own, sitting peacefully in flames with three dragons circling her. 

He consulted every single history book he had access to, and whilst they mentioned Targaryens being resistant to fire, there was no mention of a girl with three newly hatched dragons bathing in flames. To have one hatchling is considered a blessing many Targaryens are not fortunate to have, but to have hatched three? Almost impossible. With the lack of documentation, Satoru figured it must have been the future he saw. 

Though there was something in his gut telling him to meet with the Princess he was to wed. And whilst he was plagued with madness, Satoru wholeheartedly trusted his intuition. He knew there'd be something to gain from the meeting, but he didn't know what just yet. Maybe an answer to his dreams? Unlikely, but tugging in his gut wouldn’t cease.

In less than half a moons time, he was to meet his potential future wife and Queen. And for once, he wished he'd receive a clear vision of what his future was to be.

Stares followed you as you walked through the courtyard of the Royal Court, having finally, after a month of travelling, reached King’s Landing. Some curious, others leering, you did not have the energy to pay them any more mind. To be frank, you were exhausted, not faring too well with weeks at sea. You wanted to soak in a warm bath and sleep in a real bed. If you hadn’t been so tired, you might’ve met their stares with a glare.

You knew why they were so ‘fascinated’ by you. You did not look like the noblewomen they were used to seeing. The burnt orange chiffon that covered your body was almost see-through, and if one was to look, really pay attention, they could see the brown of your nipples. A generous amount of your cleavage was on show, half covered by the red material draped around one side of your body and tucked into your arm.  

A golden necklace, studded with amber stones, adorned your neck, with matching earrings, and a gold headband fixed just on top of your hairline. Your hair was free and unbound, unlike the ladies of court around you, who had their hair twisted into intricate braids.

Your mother, the Princess of Dorne, and your father were both bathed in similar colours, albeit a little more conservatively. Together, you were a blazing sight, embodying your house motto; unbowed, unbent, unbroken.

Your Royal convoy was met by the King and his Lords, who bowed and kissed your mother’s hand and warmly greeted your father. You bowed to the King, politely thanking him for his hospitality, and he responded to your words with a warm, familiar smile.

His son, the Prince, was nowhere to be seen. And although many might have been offended, you paid it no mind. As the Heir to Dorne, you knew very well just how busy his schedule could be. And in truth, you were nervous, wanting to stall your meeting as much as possible.

The maids led you to your room and had preemptively set up a warm bath for you to soak in, and you graciously thanked them. Your own personal maids took the liberty to add milk and honey to the warm water. Thanking them all once again, you dismissed them, wanting to bathe in peace.

You do not know how long you spent in the bath, lost in your thoughts. The water was now less than lukewarm, and your fingers had pruned up.

Whilst your body had been soothed and relaxed, your mind was far from. You had heard whispers about the Prince’s striking beauty, the magnificent blue of his eyes. Yet you still feared, usually the pretty ones had the worst personalities and egos in your experience. You had tried to ask the maids, but all they said was that ‘it would be the most agreeable match, your grace’.  

The fact that no one was willing to tell you about your potential husband to be worried you.

All you knew was that he was mad and devastatingly handsome.

Sighing, you got out of your bath and dried off, calling your maids to help you get dressed. Once again, you donned light and airy chiffon, this time opting for a simple, short sleeved red dress and a burnt orange scarf draped over your left side and tucked into your waist with a golden band. The scarf was embroidered with gold outlines of the sun, matching your house sigil. A golden snake bracelet was wrapped around your forearm, but you decided to forgo the rest of your jewellery besides your rings. You wanted to explore the castle and feared too much jewellery would make unnecessary noise.  

There were still quite a couple of hours till you were meant to dine with the Targaryens, so you quietly slipped out of your rooms and set out to explore your potential future home.

Nerves were worming throughout Satoru’s body, unsettling him deeply; he could hardly focus on the book in front of him. He had another dream last night, a golden spear barrelling straight through his heart. Except there was no pain or blood, he felt entirely at peace, and his heart had beaten even stronger.

Satoru had wrenched off his blindfold off, desperately searching through the archives. He tried to find out what the golden spear could mean or potentially represent. Initially, he thought it would mean there would be a good hunting season perhaps, and in another text, it made mention of how a spear could symbolise courage and achievement. Still, there was something in his gut telling him that it couldn’t possibly be it.

Maybe he’d die having won some great war? That wouldn’t make too much sense given that the Seven Kingdoms were at the height of their prosperity, and if his betrothal was to go well, that would only serve to further that. Every single possible conclusion he came to, his body was telling him he was wrong.

His palms dug into his eyes as he roughly exhaled, cursing under his breath. The doors to the library opened, and he knew a servant had probably found him to tell him he was to go back to the training he was skipping.

“I’ll be right there, just give me a moment.” He said, his breath coming out in quick pants, palms digging into his eyes further.

The pain brought him great comfort.

Instead of hearing the doors close, he hears light footsteps coming closer towards him. Gently, soft hands grasp at his wrists, slowly pulling them away from his eyes.

Satoru is shocked stiff, wondering which servant had the audacity to touch him in such way.

His eyes open, and the first thing he sees is a golden snake wrapped around a forearm. A jolt goes through his body, every single hair on his body stands, and his vision bleeds red.

A snake, the arm, Satoru’s vision from months ago finds him once more. He’s rendered breathless at the sensation, gasping for air. The hands move from his wrists to cup his face.

“-okay?”

His hearing is muffled, and his eyes struggle to find focus. His stomach bubbles with excitement and trepidation. There’s a soft voice lulling him back to reality, a familiar voice that he can not quite place. Fingers stroke his cheek, the cold rings bringing great ease, and eventually, it pulls him out of his own head.

“Just breathe,” the voice tells him, fingers gently closing his lids and returning to stroke his cheeks. Satoru’s breath somewhat evens out as he focuses on breathing. Once he’s settled, he squeezes his eyes shut and gains the courage to open them one more.

You’re beautiful, is his first thought. Breathtaking. An explosion of red and gold, a beautiful sunset orange.

You look like the answer to all his prayers.

“-you okay?”

Satoru snaps out of his thoughts and realises you’re talking to him. He wordlessly nods, his eyes moving away from your figure in embarrassment. Your hands fall from his face, and Satoru misses their warmth already. The incessant tugging in his gut had died down to a gentle pull, and Satoru knew, with certainty, he found what he was looking for.

“I apologise for touching you so brazenly, my Prince.” You said, thinking that the man in front of you was probably uncomfortable by your touch. You figured out who he was as you stepped into the library, after all, how many white-haired and blue-eyed people were there, casually walking around the Keep.

You knew you probably shouldn’t have touched him, but he looked like he was having a panicked episode. His breath came out quick and ragged, eyes blown wide and teary. You remembered how your parents would hold your face to ground you and guide you to breathing normally again, helping you calm down.

Satoru slowly turns back to you and takes you in once more. It’s better than the first time he laid eyes on you. His soul feels at peace, his body wanting to cave in on yours. He doesn’t even realise it, but the ringing in his ears had finally quietened down.

He notices the rings on your hands and instinctively moves to grab them.

“A spear?” He questions, somewhat frantic. You let him take hold of your hand, wanting him to feel at ease in your presence and quickly recognising this was the supposed madness everyone spoke about.

“Our sigil,” you explained gently, as he moved his face closer to your hand in disbelief. “Of House Martell. A sun, with a golden spear through it.”

“A golden spear,” Satoru repeated, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. “How could I have been so stupid, of course it’s your sigil!”

The Prince’s erratic behaviour was more than a little alarming, but for some reason, you were not worried or in fear. You let him process whatever he needed to process, seeing the cogs turning in his brain.

His eyes also visibly cleared up, and his face looked much more relaxed. The Prince really was strikingly handsome. You felt drawn to him, fighting the urge to hold his hand properly, fingers itching to trace his little scar and stroke his supple cheeks once more.

“I apologise, Princess,” he says, calmed after minutes of just staring and fiddling with your ring. “It is unbecoming of a Prince to treat you in such a way.”

Still, he made no move to release your hand; you found that you did not mind, liking the roughened touch of his fingers on yours.

He looks up at you with those gorgeous eyes, and you realise if they were the last thing you saw, you would die a satisfied and happy woman. You shake your head at him, as if telling him not to worry about it. If anything, you should be apologising to him.

“And I also apologise for your betrothal to me.” His voice is a lot firmer than before, but still soft and whispery. You go to open your mouth to refute his statement, but he speaks before you can.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, so please-“ he gestures to the chair next to him with his free hand, “-sit, and we can discuss matters.”

Before you sit next to him, you grab the hand already on yours with your other and look at him imploringly.

“I know they say that you are mad, my Prince, but you are not broken or incapable of love. In truth, I was a little insulted by your proposal at first, but I truly think I could come to greatly care for you, if not love.”

You had not felt safer with a man alone, as you had with Satoru, besides your own father. It was a strange and indescribable feeling, but you felt as though your souls truly were connected, his presence bringing you ease. You didn’t believe in soulmates or love at first sight. You knew all too well just how cruel the world was, but in Satoru, you found the next closest thing.

Satoru visibly melts at your words. In truth, that’s all he could ask for. He presses a chaste kiss to your conjoined hands and nods.

With a smile on his face, he thinks he could learn to love you too.

He gently guides your hand to sit in the chair next to him, his sturdy thigh comfortably pressed against yours. For the first time in his life, Satoru opens up to someone about his thoughts and feelings with great ease.

In the next couple of hours, you truly get to know the ins and outs of the Heir to the Iron Throne, as he too became familiar with you, the future Princess of Dorne. Before you knew it, it was time for the dinner the King had prepared to welcome his guests.

You and Satoru had shyly walked to the dining hall together, side by side, your hand still in his grasp and resting on his arm.

His blindfold remained forgotten on the desk.

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[pakhnokh]

Today, House of Gentians is one year old 🥳🎊🎉

You won’t believe the story of how it began….

I was 7 months pregnant, and have been suffering from intense itching in my lower legs for a month. I googled it and saw that it’s a warning sign during pregnancy and can have dangerous consequences so I went to my obgyn and he referred me to take a blood test to check it.

Fortunately it was clear from that problem, but we didn’t know the reason for the itching. He did say that some women suffered from an allergic reaction like this but he suggested that I go to a dermatologist to be sure.

So finding an appointment to a dermatologist in my country right away is a nightmare, and by some miracle I found someone who had a place for me in a few days but in another city. So I took the buss and went there and the doctor was there with a student who was working with him. Anyways he was extremely nice to me and that’s something completely odd with the doctors here, that make you feel as if you’re annoying them. He was really nice, checked me thoroughly, looked at my scratching wounds with a magnifying glass and all the while was talking with great enthusiasm to that student. Later at my second appointment I realized that the reason for this was that he treated me like a case study to show how pro he is to that student cause when he was alone in the second time, he was a complete jerk to me.

Anyways, at that first appointment he decided with great certainty that what causes my itch is scabies. And as someone who considered this possibility and checked for signs of a bug infestation, especially since I have experience with other bugs, this seemed unlikely. And I’m like, telling him of all the reasons that don’t match, like the fact that my husband sleeps in the same bed and he doesn’t suffer from it and for me it’s been an experience of a month now. Surely a thing such as bug bites would affect him too, no? But he was so determined and told me “your husband gonna get it soon probably” so he gave me a prescription for creams and told me to wash all textiles in my house at a high degree, and everything that can’t be washed, to close in plastic bags and leave the house for 3 days. And like I said, as someone who already had experience with another bug infestation this was something that I already knew how to do even if at first it sounds like a pain in the ass.

So I got home, told my husband, who really opposed this idea, but I insisted on it, especially cause if the doctor was right and there IS an infestation, then we have to treat it immediately before baby is due. So I did everything the doctor said, we packed some clean stuff and moved to live with his parents for 3 days. Like I said, later we discovered that the doctor was wrong, because nothing helped and the itching continued till the moment I gave birth, proving my obgyn was right and it was, what’s called “pruritus of pregnancy”, a severe itch that is not dangerous, but can appear in some cases. I still carry those itching scars on my legs btw, even though they’re faint now 🤣🤣

Anyways what the hell does this embarrassing story have to do with House of Gentians? It was on the first day we lived with his parents and I was working on the exclusive art I make for my patrons. I was in the coloring and rendering stage and it’s really a work that makes you be really focused on details and etc… I was already so tired, but when evening came and I was done with the piece, which is still one of my favs btw:

I still wanted to draw, something quick and sketchy to “free my hand”. I just opened a new canvas and started sketching. At first I wanted to draw yllz seducing lwj, as if he was taken to cr after all and things got hot 👀🔥 But then I changed his teasing, smug expression to a sad one, and decided that it’s gonna be a Yiling Laozu who came back to Gusu with lwj and was put in LWJ’s mother’s house as his waifu 👀👀👀 and this idea had a dark side at first, with my horny mind thinking of yllz performing the duties of a spouse with lwj 👀👀👀👀 and it’s gonna be love/hate between them both.

I was really hurrying this sketch too, because my husband was calling me to our evening quality time of having toasts while watching a series on Netflix so I posted it quickly on Twitter and left. When I opened the app again that night I was really surprised to see all the excited comments on this simple sketch I did, but they really inspired me to go on, just like your comments inspire me till this very day ❤️

And just look at it now, each week I’m working on more 4 pages, it turned to be the longest comic I did in my entire 25 years of drawing (160 pages till this day and counting) and I already have the entire plot written with like 9-10 arcs planned overall 🤣 Drawing this consistently also helped improve my art, as I look at the first drawings compared to the most recent ones I can see the progress I made and hope to continue making!

So thank you all for the love and support and the wonderful comments that inspire me to give you more parts each week!

And as a b-day gift, I give you a sneak peek to a panel from page 110 that I kinda like how it turned out

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

ok my eye kinda twitches when ppl, even jokingly, jab at feyre for not knowing the answer to the riddle immediately because like… that’s the point

setting aside her illiteracy, her not knowing the answer until the very end is the point because she has went through what the riddle says:

“there are those who seek me a lifetime, but never we meet”

feyre seeks love from the people around her, she seeks it from her sisters, from her father, even when she knows it’ll never happen, she seeks it from isacc, and the person she seeks love from the most? her mother. her mother is whole reason she’s hunting. every time she shot an arrow, it was for her mother; are you paying attention to me now, mom? am i good enough now? and this love from her mother is a love she’ll never meet because the bitch is dead

“and those i kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet”

from feyre’s pov, she’s the savior of her family. she’s the one who hunts, she’s the one who keeps them all alive, and that’s how she shows love, and yet (again from her pov) they don’t seem all that appreciative of it.

“as times i seem to favor the clever and the fair”

nesta, the clever and elain, the fair. to feyre, she was always left out of whatever bond nesta and elain had formed with each other before she was born. the love they hold for each other seemed far greater than the love she had for them

“but i bless all those who are brave enough to dare”

and here is where things start to change. her being brave enough to shoot that wolf brings her tamlin, the first person in her life that she has never had to provide for. he takes care of her and most importantly he takes care of her family. he releases her from her self-apointed burden and for the first time in eight years, the only person she’s responsible for keeping alive is herself. tamlin is the reason for all this, that makes him the man she grows to love. she was blessed with him.

“by large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet”

once she’s acclimated to spring (tamlin did forcibly break into her home and knocked her out) feyre’s happy. she left the cottage with the belief that there was no such thing as a better world and completely devoid of hope. compared to when she’s in spring, her biggest worries of the day is trying to convince alis to let her wear pants. tamlin, bar calanmai, is the softest and shiest man she’s ever met. he makes her poems out of words she chose, he encourages her inner artist, he takes her to swim in a pool of starlight, he lets her see the world through his eyes and, even if it was just for a moment, it was mesmerizing.

“but scorned, i become a difficult beast to defeat”

and here is where there’s trouble in paradise. tamlin sends feyre away with his false explanation of the blight, of course feyre doesn’t listen and comes back anyway, and she learns of amarantha. amarantha who tricked all the high lords and rendered them practically powerless against her. and why? because she was scorned by tamlin, who she chased for centuries (eww btw). feyre’s trials are exceptionally difficult, especially the third, because amarantha wanted to prove feyre unworthy of the love she was scorned of, prove the inconsistent heart of a human

“for though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,”

amarantha is beating feyre up, every strike of her hand breaks another one of feyre’s bones. she’s broken and bloody, and at this rate, she is going to die.

“when i kill, i do it slow”

but she’d already been dying, hasn’t she? every second under the mountain, every day in that cell rotting away, every night she was forced to dance, when she broke her arm killing the wyrm, when she was almost skewered by hot spikes, when she had to stab those faeries. it was already killing her, over three slow months. why had she done this again?

oh yeah,

“But I wouldn’t say it. Because loving Tamlin was the only thing I had left, the only thing I couldn’t sacrifice.”

she loves him, your honor

[mariabrightmoon]

JUST HAD A REALISATION(S)

1 no wonder catra and angel dust are both that relatable, that song works on both:

Angel dust with Val

Catra with SW

2 funny how this is done on mother s day knowing catra s lore

So for everyone struggling today, please know you deserve love, you re not alone and its valid❤️‍🩹🫂

3 it was soo interesting to work on hazbin hotel style, you know i like sharp linessss🤗🥹🤝🤭 but the proportion here were so new to work on💖💖

4 that the advantage of just shading with black. I can change colors underneath

5 that was totally unplanned and... wow it s actually so refreshing to draw for myself for once. Not for a last minute event. Not for someone. No due date. No expectation. Just a silly idea i wanted to try.

I know I have urgent wips (spop big bang event✨️✨️ etcc) and important hw but having cool "chillax" doodles in between helps, especially when i m blocked on the others.

At least i feel i m doing/drawing something.

Ig thats why i have sm wips all together, when i art block on one, i can still progress on another and feel productive.

If one s lineart feels too hard, there s one waiting for coloring i can do.

Oh and ofc what is rendering anwwwwww

Just what i said, it feels good to just color without overthinking shadowing for once.

And⁴⁵⁶⁷ what are backgrounds anwww?? Why was it hard finding a pic from the show with no one sitting on that throne when i know such pics exist (pls if u found them, pls send me) like i vividly remember shera s creator posimg next to it but i cant find THAT pic

And ofc, ofc i notice only now i forgot catra s catail and cat ears😭😭🤡

Btw there s 2 cause there s one i was coloring from my head without checking catra s real color palette

Ohh live, laugh, love long description✨️✨️✨️one post, sm subjects🫶✨️🤝

[mistbow]

I love Sorey’s ending MA in Rays, Raijin Souhyoujin (雷迅創雹刃).

It is an Ice- and Lightning-elemental MA, the elements reflecting his connection to Mikleo and Gramps respectively. He’s really an Elysian through and through, in the end, going back to his origin (historical technicalities would make his hometown Camlann, but that’s just historical technicalities; his heart belongs to Elysia forever.)

Also love how they went for “雹” instead of plain “氷” for the “ひょう” part of the name. “雹” or “hail” in English, is a type of precipitation (condensation of water vapor) that usually gets formed during thunderstorms. Again, you could see the connection to his Elysian family.

雷を呼び、限界を超える全身全霊の一撃を放つ魔鏡技。 A mirrage arte that calls forth lightning and unleashes a blow of one’s whole body and soul transcending the limits.

Again with the 全身全霊/whole body and soul, but this time transcending even the limits. He even says it in the quote.

来たれ神雷！オレの全てで！限界を超える！ Come forth, divine thunder! With my everything! I will transcend the limits!

Popular theory has it that Sorey might be Heldalf’s biological son (there are more than just that one manga page supporting this theory, btw, hints were even in the game itself, but we’re not getting into this today) and in a way, he inherited Lion’s Howl (獅子戦吼) from him, so now even beyond that, he inherits one from his actual parent, the only one that matters to him.

I know Sorey being mostly associated with the Lightning element is not a new thing; after all, both his MAs in the original game, Bolt Tempest (雷迅双豹牙) and Divine Wrath (烈震神雷牙), are for all intent and purposes Lightning-elemental anyway, they’re only Void in the game because it’s Zestiria that classifies Lightning/Light and Dark under Void... but here are some other fun stuff while we’re at it:

Kimura Ryouhei (Sorey’s JP VA) suddenly tweeting Indignation chant, which made Indignation trended on Twitter on that day too. In Tales of Memoria, years before this tweet was even made, Tales-related questions were asked to the VAs, and one of the questions was what arte they would want to use, and Kimura answered Indignation to that.

Speaking of Indignation... I’ve always wondered why Sorey’s profile in Perfect Guide has Maotelus’ crest instead of the usual Shepherd’s dragon’s crest.

In the official Chinese localization of the game, Sorey’s name is rendered 史雷, very fitting for him since it consists of the characters for “history” and “lightning” and I will always love his Chinese name for this... really unintended meaningful name.

So yeah, Lightning child Sorey. As far as Sorey is concerned, Zenrus is his parent, the one who could give him more than enough love that he couldn’t get from the father and mother he’d never had.

[sunnytheopossum]

Took a break from the MH stuff for the day to work on a gift for my mom for Mother’s Day! For the last three years, I’ve made it a tradition to create an art print of my mom’s favorite thing in the world (her dog, Delta), and this is the third one! Also, I don’t know why I always go for this semi-painterly style whenever I make prints, but MAN my wrist is straight up broken now because of it. I’m not built for high rendering.

Btw here are the other two prints I made for previous years VVV

[vocaloightmares]

Color ref for my main SW OC, Teen Wing/Vicky. More info below:

• Pronouns: She/Her

• Personality: Boisterous, Snarky, Sly, Dramatic, Hyper, Protective

-Very prone to emotion (ex: gets upset easily over something quite minor)

• Signature Abilities: Illusion Manipulation, Martial Arts

• Height: As tall as Flip

• Job: Assistant Director, Crimefighter, Magician

• Affiliations: Teen Troupe, Super Wings (partnership), Cloud 9

• Family: Lance (father), Mari (deceased mother), Akumu (aunt), Inei (cousin)

• Allies: Teen Troupe, Super Wings

• Enemies: The Golden Gang, Billy Willy, Pavere Carnival

• Likes: cooking, performing arts, foxes, The Cardinal Cabin, her (found) family, Lance truly smiling, video games based on the fighting and beat-em-up genres

• Dislikes: jumpscares, lies, her (found) family being in danger, Lance’s “dad mode”

The daughter of a Legendary Super Wing, Teen Wing is an assistant director by day, electrifying crimefighter by night who always ensures to put on a shocking performance (often literally). When she was young, Teen Wing looked up to the original Kid Wing and strived to become a hero like him. However, when he disappeared, TW takes up a similar mantle while searching for KW.

But when she was faced with a traumatizing near-death experience, Teen Wing‘s life will begin to turn completely upside down and come to a realization that not everyone will be charmed by the happy spell.

_________________________________________

(btw, the renders below are free to use as paper dolls! Just make sure you credit me as either @worldairportwonders or @stormvanari: both are the same person. For example, type something like, “Teen Wing belongs to @stormvanari.”)

[creepypasta-archive]

Jeff the Killer: Acceptance

by xxAngelOfChaosxx Wow, what an username I have found the most thesaurus abusive, grimace-purple prosey, millenium goth story i've seen in quite a bit, to lengths not seen since "The Blood Whistle" Btw, there's no part 2. CW// stalking, murder mention Click below to see the original unedited story

Jeff The Killer: Acceptance Part 1 of 2

The overcast cradled the moon in grey sheets.

Regardless of it's newfound coat of thickening mist, the lack-luster of the moon's light didn't hinder his gate.

Striding onward into the embrace of the night, the pinch of his etched smile taunted him. A cold, smooth wisp of air drew straight into his lungs through exposed nostrils as the buzzing grew louder. The only insects that buried into his skull came to him in the form of voices, dozens of voices. While low in volume, the chanting of each and every voice were merely part of him now, so much so he could sometimes tell his own thoughts from their muffled screams and mournful whimpers.

They kept him company.

Even the echoes of screams are sometimes more comforting than the weight of silence in the death of the midnight hours.

Slowing his pace, his slickened hand dragged down his hoodie in a paint brush motion. Layers of crimson caked onto his fingers now making them stick. A grimaced expression moved all the muscles in his face but the crescent-shaped flaps of meat hanging from just beneath his cheekbones. The moisture of leaves served as damp towels as the young man's body slowly seeped into the forest floor.

She didn't look at him, she saw him.

The thought of this had him drawing in a hinged breath. There was a complexity to just that phrase that he failed now to wrap his mind around. The buzzing grew into a monotonous drone.

She didn't look at him...

He knew she recognized him from the news, a forum, someplace where an artist rendered sketch of him was plastered. And it was the way her eyes fixated on him that left him in a haze; it were as though she had been expecting him, just how she looked so prepared for his arrival, this was something that he'd never seen before. The way her face remained expressionless as he exited the neighboring house seemed as though she had stared at him for hours on end.

This is a mistake. Go back. He sneered, It will be like that boy and his shot-gun toting father all over again. "What is she going to do? Give The police a sketch of our new identity?" he answered with equated anger. "It can wait until tomorrow night." THIS ISN'T A JOKE. Tomorrow will be too late, cops will be all over the place. You need to go in there, and slit the little bitch's throat, now. "We took care of that lil shit and his dad, didn't we? Don't you remember the look on their faces when they saw us again?"

His eyes idled as though he has closed them, part of his imagination was soothing them with the brush of eyelids. Their likeness faintly flooding in front of him served as a reminder that it had been years since Jeff had dreamed, but these fantasies were just as good. The way their eyes widened till they were glazed whites reflecting fractions of light, how their abnormal mouths formed horrified gapes that refused to draw air. A chuckle escaped while he remembered all too well how they looked before he made them perfect.

Mother always said to look your best...

The curl of his smile was dominant on one side as he stood.

She truly believed that he was coming for her this time. Like a deer in headlights, she stared out the top floor window processing what she had just seen, recognizing the shape of the shadow that was creeping along the long fence across the street.

He had been walking in broad daylight when she had first seen him, realizing now that he had been casing the house across the street. ' house.

She thought nothing of it until the next day. He wore the same clothing as the day before, and the day before that. Slowly, almost in a menacing fashion, striding up and down the street glancing at houses.

He had worn a grey jacket over his usual clothing, but once he had gotten close enough for her to see him more closely she knew that hood anywhere; burned and browned around the edge, just like all of the pictures.

Sasha felt frozen in place by his blackened glance. She didn't feel as much fear as she anticipated as when she had imagined this moment dozens of sleepless nights before. But her breaths became short-lived grasps of what she found comfort in as reality. Her body retaliating by leaving her lungs feeling more and more flattened with every stroke of air. What had truly startled her was not the fact that there may now be some truth to every forum post she'd ever read, but how those late nights scaring herself into insomnia had conditioned her for when she finally came within shouting distance with one of the Master's...no...theMaster of those fears.

Her body felt as though it had suddenly chilled with a thin film of heat leaving her in a wave as the caption of his eyes centering into her face seared into her mind.

She had just turned off her computer when he had been ensnared in the corner of her eye. His white hoodie treading across the yard like a large animal. Even when she wasn't sure that it was in fact him that she had seen, she instinctively shut off her laptop, enclosing herself in the darkness of her empty home.

His frame faded into the grey and blue shades of midnight as he became a shadow along 's home. Her fingers hesitantly stumbled along her computer desk, searching for her phone, unable to look away. The window in the living room left little to the imagination as it was unveiled, but from there she could see the opening of the staircase illuminated by the fractions of moonlight. He's heading up the stairs…

Her fingers slid along the finished wood surface to no avail. She leaned stretching her torso back without breaking her focus on the house. Her fingers felt as though they were pulsing each time they touched the surface.

If she had never moved out, she wouldn't be here right now.

If she had never left, she wouldn't be up this late.

She would be sleeping next to mom and Annie on the couch, and her terrier, Duke.

Although she knew Mom wasn't there to tell her she had only been dreaming, she wasn't at home, either.

Just Ken.

And his new wife.

The woman stole a quick breath and shook away the thought slowly. Her fingertips nearly grazed her phone, she sneered distastefully at her gawking.

There was a weightlessness that made her heart pound hard against her chest in a solo cry. Her frail hand barely gripped the table as she collided with the oak floor. She cried out holding her head as she began writhing.

"Damn...Damn it!" She hissed. "God-DAMN IT!"

Her protest was cut short by a sudden stir from the room below her.

Foot steps.

Heavy, quickened, and heading toward the stairs.

The pounding in her chest gave way to a quaking in her body so violent it made her joints feel as though they were vibrating.

He's here…

Her mind began to reel. He finished -he's on a killing spree! The aching now replaced with a violent conglomeration of fear and a sensation she hadn't been able to identify before. Not since her Mother's accident had she felt such a need to survive.

From the floor she could see under her bed, just a few feet away, a baseball bat.

She rolled to her side, sitting up her chair. It would give him enough time to ponder what he had heard. Her hands felt clammy compared to the wooden floor, she quickly threw each hand in front of the other, nearly scattering across the floor. A panicked hand nearly thrust under the bed for the weapon, now unsure of when the slamming in her chest started and the pounding of hurried footsteps began.

Both simultaneously came to a halt as the door flew open.

She didn't have enough time to hide.

The dark brought a figure forward, lunging towards her-she shrilled swinging the bat with all of her might, a muffled thud knocked him to the floor with a high pitched cry followed by an uninhibited whimpering.

"WHAT THE HELL SASHA?!" the voice cracked.

Her eyes shot open dropping the bat against her nightstand, she crawled from the space between her bed and drawers crawling to the small figured girl shrieking on the floor.

"ANNIE! OH MY GOD!" she bellowed. "Annie! Are you alright? What are you doing here?"

"You IDIOT! I was just at the bar-oh my god! What the fuck is wrong with you?! HUH?!"

The girl lying on the floor curled up holding her side swearing profusely through wildly spilling tears. She coughed between her sobs leaving Sasha more aware of the danger, her thoughts were tangle yarn as her sister drunkenly cursed her.

It had only taken a second before she shook herself out of one mess and diving into the one in front of her. "Annie...Annie, we have to get out of here! There's a killer across the street, we have to get to the car and call the police!"

The younger of the two rolled onto her back growling more profanity under a hinged breath. "What are you talking about? I came home from the bar, and I heard you fall out of your chair and you hit me with a fucking bat-now some bullshit about a killer?"

Sasha shook her head violently as her sibling lifted her from the ground and onto the bed. "Annie you don't understand! I just watched him go into Mr. Jacobs house! Please! I want to go!"

"How do you know it's not his son, Sasha?" Annie's voice snapped with a less than enraged tone as she turned to retrieve her sister's chair. Sasha's stomach churned smelling the alcohol on her sisters breath.

Her voice broke into a panicked wail as her hands clutched at her chest in her matter of fact way when she is absolutely certain, but refraining from screaming towards her sister. Reaching down from the bed she gripped the bat once more, "I've had physical therapy with Mr. Jacobs for two years Annie! He doesn't have a son!"

A second had passed when Sasha realized Annie wasn't responding.

She stared out the window with an expression that could rival an empty canvas. Sasha's eyes widened feeling her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. "A...Annie?"

The young woman didn't respond, her lips parting only slightly as though she were forming words in slow motion.

"I...it's him...it's Jeff the Killer."

[ncssian]

If you don't write Nessian Wandavision I may have to boycott this blog, sorry rules are rules

no because one day nesta just gets fed up with her canon life and explodes with power, breaking the wards around the house of wind and replacing them with her own ones. everyone is kicked out of the HoW and the surrounding mountain and a huge barrier goes up around it. cassian gets knocked out from the force of it and when he wakes up everyone is like “your mate is a psychopath what is going on with her??”

so rhysand being a daemati has to gather with the ic and they’re all trying to find out what’s going on with nesta and the HoW. the whole of velaris is terrified of approaching the wards she’s set up and there’s like constant storm clouds brewing over the mountain. meanwhile inside the HoW nesta has manifested her own version of cassian made specifically to meet her needs; he’s sweet and protective and compassionate and nesta cant remember a time when he wasnt there for her. they live their days in the house being a perfect happy couple, content to spend all their time with each other and no one else.

but eventually fake cassian starts asking questions: why don’t we have any friends or family, nesta? why don’t we ever leave the house, nesta? why don’t we have kids, nesta? so nesta subconsciously uses her mother-granted magic to give cassian all of these things: she whips up imaginary friends and imaginary siblings and imaginary kids to fill their house.

despite all of this, the growing sense that something is wrong increases in both cassian and nesta. nesta shoves the feeling away because she’s happy with her life just as it is, but fake cassian keeps asking questions and wondering about how their life came to exist. one day someone from Outside manages to infiltrate the house’s wards—rhysand did all the work in creating a hole in the magic and the rest of them clamored for an opportunity to be the one to go inside. real cassian wants to go the most, but he’s the reason nesta exploded in the first place and everyone agrees he could make a volatile situation even more volatile. amren and even elain volunteer to go; feysand have to stay out of it because their death pact renders their entire family useless. in the end, though, gwyn and emerie are the ones who demand to go—they’re powerless enough that nesta’s magic won’t detect them and they love her enough to approach her in whatever state she might be in. so they get brought into the house of wind as part of nesta’s happy fantasy and they play the role of her best friends.

cue monica rambeau type scenes. nesta doesn’t have any memories of the outside world so she doesnt remember gwyn and emerie but when they get too close at breaking the fourth wall of her perfect dream life she gets pissed and lashes out with her powers. fake cassian still loves her through all this chaos btw and he will fight to protect her from the real world. at one point he’ll obviously have to have a showdown with canon cassian.

idk what really happens for the rest of it but obviously it’ll be close to the plot of wandavision. nesta learns that talking about her feelings and filing for divorce is easier (but way less fun) than creating a dream realm to live out your best life. dream cassian was born solely to love nesta and he’s more than happy to die that way. real cassian and ic have to live with the knowledge that their actions inadvertently caused all this drama. idk how nesta will begin to heal after it’s all over but boy the whole lashing-out-in-repressed-pain-and-trauma part that comes beforehand will be real fun.

i also have ANOTHER version of this idea where instead of nesta’s powers manifesting she ends up overdosing on pills that she’s been taking to make her forget/avoid how deeply unhappy she is with her current life. she ends up in a deep sleep and no one can wake her up but when rhysand looks inside her mind he finds that she’s living out a series of endless fantasies with Dream cassian where he acts nothing like his canon self and it’s very self indulgent and escapist and cutesy, but every time nesta’s remembers what her real life is like the dream shatters, dream cassian dies, and she has to start all over again from the beginning with a new storyline. but as her dreams keep getting more detailed and unrealistic her powers start to cause weird things to happen in real life, and dream cassian starts growing more sentient and has to find new ways to be the perfect husband to nesta or else he’ll die. all of this is very embarrassing for real life cassian who has to watch nesta’s dreams play out through rhysand and realizes how unsatisfied his mate was the whole time she was with him. as with every anti acosf idea, the ic are dragged.

[nordleuchten]

btw I was Procrastinating™ and then from my no thoughts head empty state of mind came the question: wtf happened to lafayette's aunt, the Madame de Chavaniac (idk if that's her title, but that's how I remember her, hope you know who I'm talking about here)???

Like, most places I've seen talking about her, she's just like, a side character for either Gilbert or Adrienne, but like, what was she doing the whole time over there? Do we have letters between her and her nephew from his time fighting in the amrev? do we know how she was when the frev was happening? what she thought of Gil's participation and later on imprisionment? when did she died? were the lafayette's present at her death bead or funeral? so many questions about our queen that had to deal with a child lafayette

Dear @msrandonstuff,

This one took me a while to come to, I am sorry for that.

Yes, I am quite aware whom you are referring to. After the death of La Fayette’s father and his mothers return to Paris, our young Marquis was raised by his grandmother and two aunts. His grandmother, Marie, was known as “Madame du Motier” for obvious reasons. His older aunt, Marguerite-Madeleine, was known as “Mademoiselle du Motier”. She had never married because, as the official story goes, she could not bear to leave her family. La Fayette’s younger aunt, Louise-Charlotte, was known as Madame de Chavaniac. She had married the Baron Guérin de Chavaniac and had a daughter with him, Marie de Guérin. After she was widowed, she moved back in with her mother, spinster sister – and her young nephew. La Fayette and Marie were close in age (Marie was a born in 1756) and the two of them were very, very close growing up.

The name Chavaniac might ring a bell for some of you – it is the name of the ancestral home of the La Fayette’s in the Auvergne, where La Fayette spend his boyhood. The Chavaniac in the Baron de Chavaniac had nothing to do with said ancestral home and it is a pure coincidence, that Madame de Chavaniac got this name.

I already broached the subject of La Fayette’s cousin, Marie. She married the Marquis d’Abos and died 1778 in childbirth. La Fayette was in America at the time and the news of her death greatly affected him. He described his relationship with Marie as follows:

Never did a brother and sister love each other more tenderly than we.

The women of Chateau Chavaniac doted on La Fayette and the warm feelings were very much mutual. Although there are no (surviving) letters between La Fayette and his family from the time of the American Revolution, we have several letter from La Fayette to Adrienne. He instructs his wife to tell his aunts that she had had news from him and that he was alright and he also asked if she had heard anything from the two women.

Adrienne was very affectionate with La Fayette’s aunts as well. In a letter to Madame de Chavaniac for example, she addressed the women as “my dear aunt”. Furthermore, she tried her best to render any service and comfort to La Fayette’s aunts that she could.

La Fayette visited the Auvergne more or less regular after the end of the American Revolution and he more often than not brought his entire family with him. On other occasions, Adrienne and the children visited Chavaniac and La Fayette’s aunts alone while La Fayette himself was caught up in business. There is one very memorable letter from La Fayette to Adrienne from March 27, 1783

It was shortly before nightfall that I found myself again in the château where I had left two very dear people who are there no longer. The first moment was terrible for my aunt, her cries and her grief were enough to frighten one. But she gradually recovered, and despite the abundance of her tears, an immense change has taken place since my arrival. I found her horribly changed and aged; but now she has more strength, spends the day out of her room, comes to the table and eats something. Since my arrival, the house has been full of people, and she is busy doing the honors. For myself, I have given up all formalities and think only of my aunt. She talks to me about my affairs and about her own, and I tell her about you, our children, and America. We broached the affair of the Chevalier de Chavaniac; she wants to pursue it, and if she does she really must try to win. But I would prefer that she give up all her property, which would enable us to arrange things as we please. She still wants to go to Langeac, at least for the moment. But I hope that this summer we shall persuade her to come to Paris. I rejoice in the change my presence has brought about in her, and in truth it is miraculous. (…) There is not a corner in this house, not a tree around it, where I do not feel as if I am about to see my aunt and Mme d'Abos again, and I must pay painful attention in order to comprehend that of the three of us I am the only one still living. (…) I plan to leave again on Thursday because it is indispensable to my aunt that I stay until then. She doesn't know the extent of the sacrifice I am making for her. But I know your heart, and I know you would insist on my staying here. It will be ten or eleven days. (…) My aunt loves you tenderly, is very touched by your concern, and is writing you, I think, today. I have carried out your commissions, which are much appreciated. I gave her poor Anastasie's portrait. Have one made of George and Virginie and also have a copy made of the little picture you have of me. If all that is ready, I can send it to her when I arrive.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 5, January 4, 1782‑December 29, 1785, Cornell University Press, 1981, p. 117-118.

Beside the inner workings of the family, there is a lot to unpack in this letter. Marguerite-Madeleine du Motier, La Fayette’s older aunt had just died. While we have no exact date of death, I would suspect that she passed away sometime in early 1783. La Fayette wrote from Madrid to the Comte d’Estaing on February 18, 1783:

(…) I shall quickly leave for France, to which I am recalled by terrible anxiety about the fate of one of my aunts.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 5, January 4, 1782‑December 29, 1785, Cornell University Press, 1981, p. 97.

We also have no date of death for La Fayette’s paternal grandmother, Madame du Motier, but based on the context that some letters provide, I would assume that she has died before La Fayette went to America, probably even before he married Adrienne. Anyway, Louise-Charlotte, after the death of her mother, all of her siblings and her daughter was now the last La Fayette permanently living at Chavaniac.

The affair of the Chevalier de Chavaniac that La Fayette’s mentions was an inheritance case between Louise-Charlotte and her brother-in-law, her late husband’s brother, that was battled out at the time. The judges had already once ruled in favor of the Chevalier, but La Fayette’s aunt was determined that she was in the right and not the Chevalier.

While La Fayette’s aunt appears to have loved all of her nephews children, she appears to be especially taken with Georges. He finds a special mentioning in a letter from La Fayette to Adrienne from June 24, 1784:

Your Chavaniac trip, if it is possible, pleases me very much. I am very keen on George's going, not only because of my aunt, but especially for his health, so that he will breathe the country air and run without hindrance, and especially without fear that he will do himself harm; and finally, I would like him to be raised without any fastidiousness, and I would rather know he is with the wolves of [illegible] than with the nice children at the Tuileries.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 5, January 4, 1782‑December 29, 1785, Cornell University Press, 1981, p. 229-230.

While in America in 1784, La Fayette wrote a long letter to Adrienne on October 10, 1784, broaching, among other things, the topic of his aunt:

I rejoice at all the good you will have done my aunt, and my heart loves to be obliged to you for it. Your conjugal virtues will have impressed M. de Lastic even more, and his poor wife will have glimpsed some disadvantageous reflections. I am impatient to know how our children took to the country and their father's natal air. It will be a great source of satisfaction for me if my aunt has followed you to Paris. If she hasn't consented to do so, try again in your letters to convince her.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 5, January 4, 1782‑December 29, 1785, Cornell University Press, 1981, p. 260-262.

La Fayette was not exactly happy that his elderly aunt was living alone at Chavaniac but he would never be able to convince her to move indefinitely to Paris with him. She settled in the capital for a short time and La Fayette’s reaction was nothing short of ecstatic. He wrote to Adrienne on January 25, 1785:

Here I am, very near you, my dear heart, very impatient to arrive, and very happy to feel behind me the distance that has separated us. What crowns all my joy is to learn that my aunt is settled in Paris.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 5, January 4, 1782‑December 29, 1785, Cornell University Press, 1981, p. 292-293.

It was Adrienne who had brought Louise-Charlotte home with her after her latest visit.

But by June 12, 1785, La Fayette had written to Henry Knox and told him that he had just returned to Chavaniac in the company of his “aged aunt”.

Louise-Charlotte was at Chavaniac when the French Revolution began and after La Fayette’s imprisonment she was joined there by Adrienne and the children. The people in the area had always held the La Fayette’s in high esteem and the Grande Peur was not felt in Chavaniac. On the contrary, when officials came to arrest Adrienne, the townspeople were far angrier with these officials than they had ever been with their local nobility. The events from now on are best described by Virginie in her book. Louise-Charlotte was at the center of one of the last happy moments the family as a whole would share. Virginie wrote:

My father gave up the command of the National Guard, and set out for Auvergne, with my mother in the beginning of October. The journey was long for they were often obliged to stop in order to acknowledge the marks of sympathy they received on the way. We followed in another carriage, and my brother joined us shortly afterwards. We were thus all assembled together at Chavaniac, with our aunt, Mme de Chavaniac, who was then seventy-two. My grandmother, Mme d’Ayen, and my aunt, Mme de Noailles, came also to share our happiness; but my mother, wearied by all she had suffered, was not yet able fully to enjoy it.

Mme de Lasteyrie, Life of Madame de Lafayette, L. Techener, London, 1872, p. 201-202.

Louise-Charlotte and Adrienne’s mother, the duchess d’Ayen had previously met on similar get-togethers and got along splendidly. The more dire things got, the more the spirits of everybody at Chavaniac suffered. Louise-Charlotte was especially concerned that Adrienne had arranged for Georges to be send away – so much so that Adrienne tried to conceal Georges’ departure from her. Here is what Virginie wrote next:

My aunt, then seventy-three, years of age, who had never, under any consideration, been induced to leave Chavaniac, declared she would not separate herself from her niece and said, with generous abnegation, that she would accompany her even to Paris. They departed followed by their servants, who hoped to make themselves useful by mixing with the soldiers.

Mme de Lasteyrie, Life of Madame de Lafayette, L. Techener, London, 1872, p. 213-214.

As a short clarification, everybody called Louise-Charlotte their aunt, La Fayette, Adrienne and their children as well, even when the woman was not technically their aunt.

The soldiers had no arrest warrant for the old Lady, but Louise-Charlotte was adamant that they had to take her as well and so they did. This was during the first Adrienne was arrested. Not only was Louise-Charlotte a great support for Adrienne, she also proved to be a great help when business transactions had to be done later.

The sale of my father's property had been for a long time talked of It began by the mill of Langeac my aunt came forward to purchase it with her claim My mother accompanied her to Brioude where the auction was to take place She went to the district Citoyens she said I feel myself obliged to protest before the sale begins against the enormous injustice of applying the laws on emigration to one who is at this moment the prisoner of the enemies of France I ask you to take note of my protestation She was listened to with respect several members even proposed to insert her protestation in the official report No Citoyens she answered you might suffer for it and that would truly grieve me you must not involve yourselves into difficulties out of politeness when you will not do so to avoid committing an act of injustice As for me thank God I have never been accomplice to any I will not be so in this case by my silence and I ask you to register my protestation in a separate note It was decided that her request should be granted

Mme de Lasteyrie, Life of Madame de Lafayette, L. Techener, London, 1872, p. 264-265.

It was also Louise-Charlotte who bought back Chavaniac. Virginie wrote:

She [Adrienne] settled the affairs of my aunt who had just bought back Chavaniac from its purchasers.

Mme de Lasteyrie, Life of Madame de Lafayette, L. Techener, London, 1872, p. 327.

La Fayette himself wrote in a letter to Thomas Jefferson on September 10, 1808:

Our Children being so provided with nine thousand francs, and some Charitable Legacies of my Parents being acquitted nothing remains of my own fortune—The Mansion of Chavaniac has been purchased by my Aunt for a trifling Sum—I hope She will enjoy it long—One half of the Small Revenue around it is by Marriage Contract insured to my Son—The other part will be a little and I hope late inheritance.

“To Thomas Jefferson from Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier, marquis de Lafayette, 10 September 1807,” Founders Online, National Archives, [This is an Early Access document from The Papers of Thomas Jefferson. It is not an authoritative final version.] (09/12/2022)

We know from different letters over the year, that La Fayette visited his aunt roughly once a year for several weeks and he often took his children with them. As they got older and had families of their own, he was mostly accompanied by Georges – who introduced Louise-Charlotte personally to his new young bride.

Louise-Charlotte died in 1811. There is one letter in La Fayette’s memoirs that is addressed to his aunt Louise-Charlotte. It is a bit longer so I am placing it under the cut for everybody who wants or do not want to read it. I hope the answer was worth th1e wait and I hope that you have/had a lovely day!

The Marquis de La Fayette to his aunt, Louise-Charlotte, Madame de Chavaniac, August 25, 1792:

I am in good health my dear aunt; and this is the most agreeable piece of intelligence I can give you. You have learnt by what a chain of fatalities and proscription the most constant friend of liberty has been forced to abandon his country, which he considered it such a happiness to serve. I have seen, for the last six months, the fearful progress of disorganization. Fidelity to our constitution appeared to me the best means of safety. With the assembly, the king, and all good citizens, I have endeavoured to do everything I could, without departing from a constitutional line of conduct, to unite and strengthen us. My efforts have been fruitless. My name is become the signal for proscription; faction on one side, and the court on the other, have ruined the public cause.

It became at length necessary to perish myself without doing good to others, or bend beneath the jacobin yoke, or withdraw myself from the infernal machinations that have been accumulated against me. If juries had still subsisted, and I could have hoped for a legal trial, I would have offered my head to the laws of my country, with the conviction that not one action of my life could have compromised me in the estimation of true patriots; but since the arbitrary will of the first group you meet with decides the question of life or death, a friend of liberty could not disgrace himself by appearing before such a tribunal. I was therefore forced to adopt the painful measure of quitting the frontier.

You must be aware that I might have brought away with me a portion of the army; I most scrupulously sent back even the lowest of my orderlies. I had previously taken every precaution to secure the safety of the troops confided to me; and I directed my steps to the neutral territory of Liege. I there encountered an Austrian post; we declared we were Frenchmen, attached to the constitution, diametrically opposed to the emigrant aristocrats, no longer belonging to the service, and claiming the right of nations for crossing the territory. We were arrested, and against every shadow of justice conducted to Namur, to await, they say, in that small town, the decision of the emperor at Vienna. I told them I preferred having cause to complain of the injustice of arbitrary governments rather than of the injustice of the people; and that the imperial persecution appeared to me far more natural than the Parisian proscription I was labouring under. I must add, however that we are treated with great politeness, and that they have carried attention so far as to forbid any emigrant with a white cockade from coming near us.

I am sending M Bureaux de Pusy to Brussels, to represent to the government of the Low Countries the violation of the right of nations of which they have been guilty towards us, and I hope we shall obtain immediate justice from these representations. I shall then repair to some farm in England, of which the address will be learnt by applying to the minister of the United States in London. I shall lead there the most retired life, and earnestly hope that my country may find a defender who will serve her with as much zeal, disinterestedness, and love of liberty as I have done.

My misfortunes, however, have not changed my principles, feelings, nor language. I am in all respects, at present, the same as I have been my whole life. My heart, I own, is deeply grieved; but my conscience is pure and calm. I doubt whether the chiefs of the different factions who have defamed me can say the same themselves. Madame de Lafayette and my children are no longer, probably, at Chavaniac; I much wish, my dear aunt, that you may have consented to follow them. In any case, shew or send them this letter.

I beg you will remember me affectionately to the sisters, and to all who dwell at Chavaniac. Tell the inhabitants of the commune of Aurac that it would be wrong in them to dislike the constitution because a fellow citizen they love is persecuted. This is as great an act of injustice as was the restraint of their consciences; both acts are abuses; but under the former régime abuses were far more frequent; and the revolution, in spite of all present evils, will eventually secure the happiness of the people. They will therefore always, I hope, remain good patriots. Adieu, my dear aunt; you have, at least, the consolation of thinking that I am no longer exposed to the perils of war. I own that I do not share your satisfaction on this subject, and that the idea of my country’s being invaded, and not defended, by me deeply wounds my heart but, ‑‑ they would have it so. May this proscription not turn to the disadvantage of my country and the cause of liberty! Once more adieu, my dear aunt. I love you most affectionately.

Marquis de La Fayette, Memoirs, Correspondences and Manuscripts of General Lafayette, Vol. 3, Craighead and Allen, New York, 1837, p. 453-455.

[starry-skies-116]

FNAF PROJECT SAMSARA AU TIMELINE (MY VERSION OF THE FNAF TIMELINE) PART 1:

**'lego step' is code for 'sewer-slide' btw.

1983- FNAF 4 was the first game that took place. Evan was fatally injured on March 13th 1983 in the Bite of 83 on his eleventh birthday as a result of having his head, neck and upper torso crushed by machinery as a result of the Fredbear Suit’s springlocks failing. He dies in the hospital five days later. Two months later, Charlotte Emily dies.

1984- His mother (also kind of a neglectful parent), wracked with grief like the rest of the Afton family, divorces William out of hatred that he neglected her and his own kids, and a feeling of personal betrayal that one of his creations killed her own youngest son, and that William blamed Michael. She tries to gain custody of her kids, but loses the case and ‘does lego step’ a couple days after she loses the custody battle.

1985- The MCI Incident takes place. William creates the Funtime Animatronics for his children in order to distract them from their true purpose- collecting and harvesting remnant in order for him to continue his research from where it left off- it seems to cheer Elizabeth up for quite some time, though he has to repeatedly and explicitly warn her not to get too close to Circus Baby. She doesn’t listen, though- she never really does. And it was her tenth birthday as well.

1986- William, researching into how he can bring his son back to life, utilizes the knowledge of remnant he discovered (or more or less ‘re-discovered’) to construct a new and perfect vessel for his youngest son to be reincarnated anew into. He knew some ancient religions theorized the failsafe for the soul upon death for those who were ‘deemed unworthy’, so he uses dark and questionable methods to descerate and modify Evan’s body, altering the fundamental chemical composition of it via remnant to make it house an infinite tesseract of power within the body before combining it with advanced technology and machinery in order to construct the perfect vessel. The consciousness is housed within a computer chip, and within the Fredbear plushie that acts as it’s primary heart, which, over time, will merge with and become one with the vessel that houses it. Artificial and mostly cyber-organic organs and systems that serve the new physical body are created as a result of this process.

1987- FNAF 2 takes place, and so does the Bite of ‘87. Gregory is complete and is first activated, unbeknownst to everyone else. William completes printing the triskelion identification barcode on his back and runs a couple of tests relating to reflexes, performance, and senses before sealing the vessel for his son away in a stasis-like state, keeping him safeguarded in a glass case within a secret, remote location in a compartment underneath the Sister Location facility. In this state, Gregory’s corrupted and tumultuous consciousness could be reset and stored in the back of his mind for safekeeping while he was suspended in his 57-year long slumber, stabilizing him effectively via the memory ‘wipe’ and cleansing him thoroughly and entirely.

1990- About a year after Michael moves out and William continues harvesting remnant to further his research, he gets his dumb self springlocked and trapped. Henry expresses his condolences to Michael, but Michael doesn’t truly care after learning of what his father has done.

1993- FNAF 1 takes place.

1995- Sister Location takes place, and so does that one torturous week with Ennard. The remnant inside Michael’s body due to the scooper prevents him from dying.

2006- FNAF 3 takes place.

2007- The animatronics are roaming. Baby is ‘exiled’ from Ennard and becomes Scrapbaby, Ennard becomes Molten Freddy, and Charlie the Puppet becomes Lefty.

2017- Pizzeria Simulator takes place. Michael opens his restaurant and burns the whole damn place to the ground, trapping the animatronics inside in an attempt to render the inhabited physical remnant useless and put the souls to rest. That didn’t go well.

2018- UCN begins. Elizabeth is reborn as Vanessa via self-initiated reincarnation (merging souls with a compatible vessel such as Vanessa whilst Vanessa was still in the womb, hence her green eyes instead of blue like both of her parents). Samuel Emily, 38 years old now, and being the only one that has not died, takes over Fazbear Entertainment and his father’s inheritance, turning it into a large, multimillion dollar corporation.

2022- Freddy Fazbear’s Grand Mega Pizzaplex opens, and so does GlamMike. Vanessa visits it for the first time as a young toddler with her parents for her fourth birthday in hopes that she can fix the problem of never laughing nor crying as a young child, and at the time, it was big, but not as big as it was during the events of Security Breach. She feels a vague sense of familiarity and heartache around Freddy, but her parents drag her away before she can truly ponder about such things. The cult of Glitchtrap is created, and children begin to go missing at night.

2025- UCN ends, and the spirits of both Cassidy and William end up inside the Help Wanted VR game. Vanessa’s parents divorce, and the custody battle takes place. A few days after Vanessa’s mother loses the custody battle, she also ‘does lego step’, which Vanessa gets a strange sense of deja vu from. It is after this incident that she begins to have proper emotional responses provided the context.

2030- Glamrock Bonnie is decomissioned by Monty under the control of a mysterious force. Monty is left with crippling guilt, and the camera evidence was soon after corrupted, of which the tech staff at the Pizzaplex had no luck tracing anyone to.

2031- Glamrock Foxy is decomissioned. Roxy is introduced to the gang.

2033- Vanessa gets a job/internship as Senior IT representative for SteelWool studios, a dummy company for Fazbear Entertainment (in game) while also trying to complete her education (she also develops a crush on her coworker Luis Cabrera but shhhhh~).

2035- The events of both FNAF AR (inside the emails) and FNAF VR: Help Wanted take place. Gregory finally awakens from his half-a-century long slumber, albeit reeling from the effects of amnesia, starvation and drowsiness from being placed in stasis for so long. This is also the time where Gregory kills the mechanics who tried to deactivate him and flees to the Post-It cave.

2036- Vanessa makes the ‘Vanny’ costume. Gregory regains his memories and regains his memories before resolving to hide out in the Pizzaplex to recover his strength and wits, and to find his family.

2038- The events of Security Breach take place. The AU of my ending is the ‘Burntrap’ ending combined with the ‘Savior’ ending, but it’s actually really batcrap crazy and can’t be summarized with just one sentence. Cassidy is freed from the Princess Quest Arcade Game, and frequently hangs out with Gregory. The broken animatronics are fixed, and it’s a happy ending for all (until I decide to update the timeline with new ideas lol)

[thesecrimsonstrings-if]

10? :) (btw, you were right! Novo Amor is actually a one man band, my bad haha). and phoebe, yees! pretty much all I listen these days asdfasfa

10) champagne problems // taylor swift

s bakkoush

the train ride is silent. it gives them more time to reflect on everything that had happened. the people around look preoccupied with their own stuff and S wonders if any of them also tried to propose to a special someone.

maybe, maybe not.

but it doesn't really matter now, does it? they got their answer and it was an unexpectedly resounding ‘no’ from you.

S did not get it at first. why you'd drop their hands while dancing at the new year's party. or avoid eye-contact with them when it was time to ask the big question of the night. they had always seen you shutting out the world, looking out but with only a little empathy to share. still, they loved you regardless. even if a part of them screamed that maybe they weren't the person you were in love with.

everyone was eagerly anticipating your answer, james being the one who planned the whole event to get you and S together during the new year's eve fireworks show. even he had expected you to say yes, it was clear as day that you longed for S just as much as they longed for you.

they'd nervously fiddled with their mother's ring, looking at you from under their eyelashes to see you smiling and nodding along to your evergreen group of friends.

when S proposed away from the prying eyes of everyone, every single second of your silence had their anxious thoughts spiking up. until you said, “i'm sorry.”

they had a whole speech planned, but they were not rendered speechless. you could only smile apologetically and leave the party in a hurry, james trailing behind you after giving S a worried glance.

“well, they would've made a lovely nearlywed. too bad they're kinda fucked in the head.” S's friends gossip among each other. they want to tell them off, that they're wrong. but S can't. they can't even speak anything else.

they silently leave from the party, leaving a heresay mess of people behind.

S books the night ticket to get home, hoping to wallow in their own thoughts and think upon what went wrong. you watch them silently from the corner, still as stone, as they get on the train.

it hurts. it hurts to let them down. it hurts to let them go like this.

but S deserve someone who would never bring them pain. someone who would never drop their hand while dancing. someone who would never leave them crestfallen. someone who would fix up the tapestry of their heart that you had just shredded.

but the fact remains that while you can glue the pieces back together, it will never be the way it used to.

[aotimagines]

Can I request a fluff scenario where Eren comforts Fem!Reader when she’s on her period/menstural cramps if you have time? Thanks!

Hi, hello. Here I am, several months later. Mod Spookzz convinced me to try and write something small to help my writer’s block and this is what I came up with. Sorry if it isn’t quite what you asked for, anon, but I did my best! This is modern au, btw!

“You sure you’re okay with me hanging out at Armin’s tonight?”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head from the softness of the couch cushion, the fabric leaving an imprint against your cheek. For the past two days, you had been staked out in you and your boyfriend’s sharing living room surrounded by your bottle of Midol, blankets, and your sacred heating pad. One of the trials and tribulations of owning a uterus was the hell week you experienced every month. From the excessive nausea to the uncontrollable bouts of annoyance that flared up at the tiniest of inconveniences, your period was enough to render you sedimentary for an entire week.

You were incredibly lucky to be dating a guy like Eren, though. He handled your ridiculous mood-swings, was there to rub your back whenever you threw up your insides and was always there to spend time with you if you craved his attention. Your partners of the past had always been slightly immature about it and acted like you had contracted the plague whenever you asked them to run out for hygiene products, but Eren was just…different. Maybe it came from the close bond he shared with his mother and sister or maybe it had something to do with how respectful he was. Whatever the case may be, you were so grateful to him and everything he did for you. The least you could do was let him go out and spend time with his friends.

“Eren,” you called out, hand cradling your cheek as his ocean-colored eyes flickered to your bundled silhouette on the couch, “you don’t need to ask for my permission. Go and hang out with Armin. I know he mentioned that he wanted to watch a documentary with you.”

Eren’s nose scrunched up in mild disdain. “It’s not true crime, is it?”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, a playful hum emitting from the back of your throat. “I don’t know? I think he mentioned something about the Golden State…?”

“The Golden State Killer documentary,” Eren returned dully, shoulders slumped forward before he groaned loudly. Without saying anything else, he walked over to where you were resting on the couch and nudged you over, giving you ample space to rest your head in his lap.

“You’re not going out?” you questioned, the tips of your fingers drawing lazy patterns into the fabric of his jeans. Above you, Eren rolled his eyes and reached for the remote, aimlessly flipping through the channels until he settled on a movie that the two of you liked.

“You’re suddenly very ill. You’re cramping and demanding that I go buy you medicine from the store.”

“Eren!” you protest, shoving yourself up on your knees to directly face him. The blanket you had buried yourself in shifted off your back, revealing your messy, disheveled hair and comfortable lounge clothes.  “You are not using me as an excuse to get out of hanging with your best friend. You’ll have fu—”

Moving closer, Eren’s mouth descending over yours, his kiss silencing any protests that could have slipped off your tongue. His hand traveled to the back of your head, holding you in place before you finally relented, eyelids fluttering shut as you completely melted into him.

When you finally pulled away, you couldn’t help but pout. “That’s not fair.”

Unable to stop himself, Eren flashed you that boyish grin that you had fallen so madly for. “How are you feeling now?” he pressed, eyes moving down to your lips.

“I am suddenly very ill and need my boyfriend to go get me medicine,” came your response, to which he answered by leaning in and capturing your lips in another heated, gentle kiss. The moment your period was over and you were feeling better, you swore that you’d hang out with Armin and watch that documentary with him. For now, however, you were content to make-out with your boyfriend as a unwarranted, but nice distraction.