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krys-loves-otome · 6 months

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OC Brain Rot Introductions

After making the first post with Thea and Abby, I realized that I didn't have an intro post introducing the character or to formally address what these kind of posts are going to be about (aside what I put in Thea and Abby's first post)

OC Brain Rot (based on this post here originally) are posts where I ramble off about my OCs and what they're up to currently outside of my writings and arts. In essence, these are brain dump posts. Sometimes they might be a couple of sentences and half-formed ideas, others might go into meta involving my ocs and whichever game they are a part of. Sometimes it might also include simple screaming, you just never know.

Brain rots will also NOT be spoiler-free! I'll usually note at the top of each post if there are going to be spoilers. Content and trigger warnings will also be noted in the beginning and in the tags where applicable.

OC Brain Rot is also open to questions towards and about the OCs themselves. They might even answer your questions themselves!

I've decided that, instead of having a separate tumblr blog (since I have like four of them at this current moment in time), I'll just make little posts about the ocs on main since I'm not especially active here as I'd like to be outside of queued posts and I have answered some questions in my OC's voices on this blog before (like this one from Houki giving her opinion on IkeSen's Masamune) and would like to get back into doing something like that.

Brain rots are also mostly going to involve my otome/dating sim OCs, but everyone is also welcome to ask about my original ocs and, if you're really curious, about older ocs that I've made for other fandoms outside of the otome/dating sim ones.

Below the cut, I've also put short intros for each of my ocs as quick reference for future brain rot posts. Longer, more detailed profiles will be made at a later date, but these will serve as little reminders for where this oc is coming from when I make future oc brain rot posts.

For other posts involving my OCs, here's my writing masterlist for them

Thanks for stopping by lovelies and hope to hear from you again soon!

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Houki of Jiyel, "Houki"

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Game: Ikemen Sengoku

Suitor: Mitsunari Ishida

Age: Early 20s

Physical Description: Short stature and chubby, large, bright green eyes, long straight black hair (that looks blue in certain lights), light to medium skin, wears round glasses

Personality: Quiet, Introverted, Observant

Brief History: A transplant MC from a different game, Houki was a noble lady sent on a diplomatic mission to strengthen ties between her home nation and six other kingdoms, mainly through the means of political marriage and alliances. Her plans were interrupted when she arrived in Sengoku era Japan and is now trying to find a way back to her home world to complete her original goal.

Misc. Fact: She loves reading more than anything in the world. It is her favorite pastime and is more often than not found reading some tome at almost any point in the day.

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Ophelia of Revaire, "Ophelia"

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Game: Ikemen Sengoku

Suitor: Kennyo

Age: Late 20s

Physical Description: Pale skin and hair (chin length and straight, parted to her right, our left), medium height, thin and willowy, dark red eyes, chin mole towards the right side (our left) of her face

Personality: Calculating, calm, refined

Brief History: Another transplant MC from a different game (same game as Houki), she was on the same diplomatic mission as Houki, but for different reasons. Born into a poor noble family, Ophelia has spent most of her life trying to bring up her family's position, was even briefly married for the cause, but thanks to her previous husband's passing, she's needing to social climb again to keep her family afloat, thus joining in her country's call for this diplomatic mission, hoping to marry rich. Being transported to Sengoku era Japan was not on her agenda and she's definitely not happy about this new life turn.

Misc. Fact: She has eight younger siblings, six sisters and two brothers.

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Dorothea "Thea" Reid

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Game: Ikemen Vampire

Suitor: Theodorus van Gogh, Arthur Conan Doyle

Age: Early 20s

Physical Description: Fair skin with lots of freckles, esp on her face and shoulders, long reddish-brown hair that she keeps in a braid most of the time, large blue eyes, medium-tall-ish height (just shy of Theo's eye level)

Personality: Friendly, outgoing, stubborn

Brief History: A lover of history and fashion, Thea had combined her love of both and had just finished her degree to be a fashion historian, and thought to reward herself after finishing college by taking a trip to Paris! Who knew a trip to the Louvre would start her biggest adventure yet?

Misc. Fact: Always wearing something either historical or historically inspired, like long skirts and embroidered blouses.

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Abigail "Abby" Clarke

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Game: Ikemen Vampire

Suitor: Vincent van Gogh

Age: Early 20s

Physical Description: Short-medium height, blonde bob/short hair that she grows longer to shoulder length as she ages, warm brown eyes, fair skin

Personality: Quiet, meek, curious

Brief History: Escaping from a bad situation, Abby finds herself in Paris, admiring the art and history that the city has to offer. Running into a mysterious gentleman that helps her escape some hooligans, she accidentally follows him through his magical time door and ends up in the 19th century! What's a girl to do now?

Misc. Fact: Her favorite hobbies are drawing and photography, though she wasn't really able to explore them as she liked in her previous life. She thrives under the tutelage of history's greats in Comte's mansion.

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Madeline "Maddie" Fleming

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Game: Ikemen Revolution

Suitor: Harr Silver

Age: 30

Physical Description: Short and curvy, greenish grey short hair that's wavy, wine red eyes, light medium skin, ears pierced (once in each lobe, and two at the top of each ear, making a total of six piercings)

Personality: Outgoing, caring, fun

Brief History: Visiting her grandparents in London, Maddie had found herself in James Park, meeting with a nice, if absent-minded gentleman. She had tried to return his lost pocket watch to him, but she accidentally follows him back to Cradle, starting her journey to unlocking powers she previously didn't know she had and to bringing peace between the two warring armies fighting over the magical wonderland she had found herself in.

Misc. Fact: Her power manifests itself mostly in non-living items. When she was younger, she made fake flowers to give to people she knew, singing to them as she worked. Her flowers would then take on characteristics she was singing about (a la Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle book version). Her flowers could make you have more luck on a test or even give you the confidence to confess to your crush! But be careful if you piss her off as her negative vibes can transfer to her targeted item and turn it cursed!

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Clara Laurent

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Game: Ikemen Prince

Suitor: Nokto Klein

Age: 27

Physical Description: Medium skin tone, wavy dark brown hair usually kept in a low bun, short to medium height, pink eyes

Personality: Serious, stubborn, kind

Brief History: A ward of Mr. Akatsuki, she was taken in by bookstore owner at a young age, growing up around books and a love of learning. During a festival, she met with a few of Rhodolite's princes, their interactions watched by Sariel, the prime minister, looking for candidates to be the next Belle, a person with a pure heart that chooses the next king of their country. She is chosen for this role, using her best judgement to make the right choice for her tiny kingdom, especially with the loom threat of war on their heels.

Misc. Fact: Her favorite book series is the Midnight Cinderella saga, telling the varying adventures of a commoner chosen to rule over the fictious kingdom of Wysteria. Her favorite in the series is Byron.

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Miriam "Miri"

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her, They/Them

Game: Obey Me!

Suitor: Lucifer

Age: Early 20s in season 1, close to late-20s by season 4/nightbringer's timeline

Physical Description: Medium-dark skin tone, pink curly hair that gets to its longest by season 4 (which is mid back), purple to pink gradient eyes, short stature, her pact marks glow when she's actively using her pact bonds. Pact mark locations include: Chest over her heart (Lucifer), behind her right ear (Mammon), Left knee (Leviathan), Right forearm (Satan), Lower back (Asmo), Stomach above the navel (Beel), Neck right on her windpipe (Belphie). Post Season 2, she has Lucifer's Ring of Light on her left hand ring finger. Season 3 and beyond, she has her Sorcerer's Society Tattoo on the back of her right hand, along with a ring on her middle finger that signifies she's a sorcerer and a member of the Sorcerer's Society, given to her by Solomon.

Personality: Curious, kind, stubborn

Brief History: Arriving in Devildom as a little pink sheep, Miri works to find a way to turn herself back into a human, which leads her to being made an exchange student at RAD, a school-like organization run by the devildom prince Diavolo, who hopes to bring the three realms together into peaceful relations. While staying in devildom, she is taken in by a group of powerful demon brothers, former angels from the Celestial Realm fallen from grace. In order to turn herself back into a human, she needs their power and she makes pacts with each to gain their help and support. As her bonds grow stronger with the brothers, so too does her own power, coming to a realization that she is a sorcerer in later seasons, learning to control her powers and to use her powers for good and to help Diavolo's cause to bring the three realms to peace.

Misc. Fact: She loves sweets and hates spicy things. She has a healthy fear of Mammon's extra spicy ramen and refuses it every time it's offered to her. Even regular ramen makes her suspicious after having sampled Mammon's favorite once.

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

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Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 5: Calling

Ao3

The doors to the front entrance loomed ahead of them. Thick mahogany of solid build, richly carved by very skilled hands. It was clear whoever had first commissioned them must have paid a great deal. But as Claire stepped closer, she was able to notice the countless pockmarks and scars pitting the wood, how they had been so badly warped by the wind and rain that they no longer would hang quite straight.

Not a good harbinger for what lay beyond.

Keeping that thought, among others, to herself, Claire watched as the doors, warped wood catching ever so slightly in the frame, were pulled open. Revealing a grimm faced butler behind them who silently took the card from her father and ushered the three of them inside.

Without turning her head, it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, Claire glanced around at her surroundings. Avalon hall was massive, she had been able to see that much from the outside. But it soon became clear that the state of the front doors was not a unique feature.

Silk curtains that were faded and stained at the edges. Scuff Marks upon scuff marks on the floor from centuries of feet traipsing up and down the corridors. Tarnish creeping around the edges of the candlesticks, giving the silver a rotten appearance. And due to the building’s esteemed age, all the windows were small and far between, the dim light making the hallway feel claustrophobic.

The overall effect was that Avalon hall didn’t feel like a house where living people resided, rather more like an abandoned, decaying ruin from a bygone era that she and her parents were trespassing in.

Fighting very hard to suppress a shudder, Claire followed her parents deeper into the house.

It looked as though the rumors were true, this family may have a lofty and noble history, but they had fallen far indeed. Claire kept her gaze straight ahead and pointedly ignored the peeling wallpaper as they walked further in. Straight into debt by the looks of it.

The butler led them up the main stairs and down a hall on their right, to where someone was waiting for them, before swiftly turning and heading off to complete some other task. Claire had expected Strickler to greet them, as he had on her walks with Jim, but instead they were greeted by his uncle, the venerable Lord Merlin, who was so old Claire half expected him to have powder in his hair.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master and Mistress Nuñez,” he politely shook hands with her father before gesturing for them to follow “My nephew is waiting for us in the parlor, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

As they walked he turned and looked Claire straight in the eye, flashing her a grin.

Startled, Claire quickly recovered and managed to return the smile with one of her own.

They’d only gone a short ways when Merlin stepped to the side, opening a door into a smaller small room.

“Please, after you,” the words were intended for all of them, but his gaze was once again locked on Claire. While she supposed most people would be flattered, Claire couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the attention, although why she couldn’t say.

Forcing down the cold fluttering in her belly, Claire followed her parents into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness within.

The curtains had been thrown open, filling the room with sunlight and allowing her to see that, mercifully, this space was in much better shape than the rest of the house. Immaculate blue and gold wallpaper, spotless china dishes and sparking silver on oak tables. Couches that looked comfortable and lived in, even if they were a little threadbare.

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Strickler was here, and so was Jim, right by his side, both of them standing by a small table holding several teacups filled with steaming brown liquid, two of which he handed over to her father and mother before picking one up himself “So glad you all could make it today, please take a seat. James and I are so happy to have you here,”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “He was quite looking forward to this,”

All the adults in the room tittered at that while Claire blushed crimson, across the room she could see Jim’s face turn a similar hue.

Still flushing, she sank into a chair, everyone else following suit. The adults quickly fell into banal conversation concerning the weather and current events. Leaving Claire and James to stare at each other in awkward silence.

She wanted to talk to him. There were half a dozen questions perched on the tip of her tongue. Had he recovered from his tumble in the woods and fall in the river? Who was his mother and why did no one ever speak of her? Did the stone bridge still haunt his dreams the way it did hers?

But despite how much she burned for answers, Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak of those things, not in front of their parents.

It was too….private, personal; and the last thing she wanted was her parents pouncing on those thoughts and picking them apart piece by piece.

Of course there was a chance that Jim felt differently about his family, but the way he also kept his silence made Claire think not.

So here they were. Sitting there mute and bored to tears. Tuning out their families' blathering, Claire allowed her eyes to unfocus, gaze rolling around the room before landing on a sword hanging on the far wall. The blade was dull and the hilt simple, but it was clear that the sword’s true value was in its truly ancient age. She could easily imagine Strickler plucking it from foreign shores during one of his many expeditions.

Unfortunately by now their mutual silence had been noticed.

“James, why don’t you show the young Miss Nuñez our collection,” Claire jolted slightly upon hearing Strickler mention her name “I’m sure she’d find it fascinating,”

James stood from his chair and extend a hand towards her, flashing a smile that was almost convincing “Of course,”

Claire lifted herself up and returned his smile “That sounds delightful,” at least it would be better than sitting in silence. She allowed Jim to lay a hand over her forearm and lead her to the other side of the room.

“This sword is a viking artefact, along with that shield,” he inclined his head to the right “The vase and teapot are from the far east,”

“Very impressive…” Claire nodded along politely, when her attention was captured by a large painting hanging near the corner, a woman wrapped in silver gossamer reclining in a pond. A simple image, but captured in breathtaking detail “What about the painting, right next to the shield?”

“I...don’t know,” Jim glanced back towards the seated adults.

“Nothing much interesting about that one I’m afraid,” Strickler said with a shake of his head “Merely a gift from an old acquaintance,”

Claire’s eyes darted over the ripples and waves captured in shades of blue paint “It’s very lovely, is it an Undine?”

Strickler let out a chuckle, that sounded more than a little patronizing “A naiad actually,”

Despite her best efforts, Claire felt herself flushing at his thinly veiled condescension “What’s the difference?”

“Naiads live exclusively in fresh water whereas Undines aren’t bound to any one form of water. Oceanids live in open seas and nereids live along saltwater shores,”

For a moment the entire room was silent as everyone turned and stared at Jim. He flushed, clearly feeling the weight of their gazes.

Claire felt a grin, the first entirely genuine one of the day, spreading over her face “I didn’t know you were so well versed in mythology,”

“I...um....” Jim glanced over at his father and uncle for help, face a deep red.

Merlin let out a loud laugh, giving his knee a hearty slap “My dear nephew you’re too shy,” he glanced towards her parents “James has always had an avid interest in mythology, we had trouble getting him to put the books down,”

Jim, clearly embarrassed, was blushing a bright scarlet, and couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting under the attention. Meanwhile, even while she sympathized with the scrutiny, Claire was absolutely brimming with delight. Finally something that she and Jim could talk about, at least while they were in mixed company.

Still chortling, Merlin got to his feet “How about I show you two youngsters the library,” he glanced towards her parents “With Master and Mistress Nuñezs’ permission of course,”

Moving so subtly Claire was sure that she was the only one who saw, Ophelia and Javier shared a sly look with each other before turning towards him “We think that sounds delightful,” Javier said, both him and Ophelia positively beaming.

“What do you think of the classical myths?”

“They form the bedrock of literature as we know it and have persevered to the modern age due to their highly advanced themes and ideas,”

Jim’s gaze briefly flickered toward Merlin, sitting in a leather chair in the corner of the library holding a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for nearly an hour, the older man giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Claire pretended not to notice.

She thumbed through the thick book on the table in front of them “One of my favorites is the myth of Tantalus. He tried to trick the gods by feeding them his own son, but they weren’t fooled. They restored his son to life and condemned him to the underworld, with food and water forever just beyond his reach,”

“Oh yes,” he nodded “That is a classic, did you know that’s where the word tantalize comes from?”

Claire did, but she smiled and nodded as if she didn’t, keenly aware of Merlin’s eyes on the two of them.

Like the rest of Avalon hall, the library was old to the point of being ancient, but rather in a cosy sort of way. Mahogany shelves and angled windows giving the room a feeling of warmth. Walls completely lined with books from end to end, supplemented by the occasional freestanding shelf. Most impressive was the collection itself, the largest collection of books Claire had ever seen in her fifteen years. Some published as recently as a year ago, some centuries old; all filling the room with the sweet scents of paper and leather.

At first she’d been excited to discuss literature and folklore with Jim. Both of which were things she very much enjoyed, and hoped that they would be able to build upon a mutual interest. But what Claire hadn’t accounted for was Merlin hovering and ever so subtly correcting Jim when he strayed from what he deemed to be the proper responses. Most of which Claire already knew from her own studies. Making the entire conversation feel dull and rehearsed. Exchanging repetitive answers may be better than silence, but not by much.

Maybe if they wandered off the beaten path a little she could get Jim to tell her his own opinion and not the one his uncle approved of. There was a copy of Bluebeard just across from her, but that didn’t feel quite appropriate right now. She reached over to the far end of the table and pulled a new book with a dusty blue cover towards them “Have you read the Poetic Edda?”

“Yes I have,”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t.

“Thrymskvida is my favorite portion, what do you think of it?”

“Truly a classic piece of Norse myth, although there is debate on whether its origins are Christian or Pagan,”

Well this clearly wasn’t working, time for a different approach.

“What is your favorite Arthurian legend?” she said abruptly, setting the blue book to the side without preamble.

Jim started, clearly caught off guard. He stammered for a few seconds before coming up with an answer “Oh, uh...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,”

A solid classic, one that she could easily see Lords Strickler and Merlin lecturing him on how it was the best.

“That’s a good one, although I’ve always thought Gawain got away pretty easily considering he broke his word,”

Jim’s amiable expression slipped, sliding into a soft frown “Gawain did keep the scarf the lady gave him, but he could have easily given it to the lord after he let the green knight chop off his head. He wouldn’t have been breaking his word, just stretching it,”

Claire paused, mulling over his words “I suppose that’s true, but Gawain gave his word to give the lord whatever he gained during the day once he got home, not whenever he felt like it. He broke his word, and for that he deserves to be punished,”

“But--”

From the corner of the room Merlin rustled the papers of the book in his lap just loudly enough that it was clearly intentional. Jim shut his jaw with a click.

Claire had to bite her lip, quite hard in fact, to keep from groaning out loud. Just when their conversation was finally starting to get interesting, apparently disagreeing with her trumped what his uncle considered ‘correct’ as far as polite discussion went.

But what was the point of having a conversation if the other person agreed with whatever she said?

Claire had entertained the company of more than a few boys who had agreed with everything she said. Quite frankly she would sooner jump in the river again.

Time for another subject change “My favorite is the Quest for the White Hart,”

Jim nodded slowly, cowed back into meekness by his uncle’s interference “That is a really good one,”

“I enjoyed Pellinore’s quest for Nimue the most, especially at the end when he ends up cursing himself by not helping his daughter and the knight,”

“Really? I always thought that was pretty grim, he was told to let nothing distract him from his quest, he was only following instructions,”

“Doesn’t matter, he could have helped them but he didn’t,”

Jim paused for a bit “Wouldn’t that parallel Gawain’s story then? It’s not about what would be considered fair, it’s about keeping your word,”

Claire felt a smile tugging on her lips, very clever, it looked as though they could have a half decent discussion after all “I guess you have me there,” she pulled the green leather bound tome closer “But while we’re discussing the Green knight, you know how the old woman was really--”

The clock against the wall abruptly started to chime, signaling Merlin to sit up from his chair with a creak “I’m afraid our time together today must come to an end, feel free to keep the book Miss Nuñez, young James can collect it at a later time,”

And by that he was surely referring to when he and Strickler would come to their house with Jim to visit her in one weeks time. Which she knew her parents were no doubt arranging at this moment.

But still, she was disappointed that her time with Jim, however awkward and supervised, was coming to an end...which was not something Claire was accustomed to feeling .

She swallowed the confusing knot of emotion as the two of them followed Merlin out the library and back down towards the parlor, having to force the words out past it “Thank you, I will be sure to keep them in good condition,”

Claire thought that she and Jim would be able to get to know each other better when they weren’t slopping through the wilderness, but as it turned out their families' supervision wasn’t much of an improvement.

And unlike any of the other boys her parents had set her up with Claire wanted to know Jim better. He was genuinely sincere, and while Jim played the role of a nobleman well enough, Claire could sense something more beneath the surface. Like watching the surface of the sea and seeing the shadow of a hidden beast moving deep within.

She eyed the back of his head as they headed down through the gloomy hall.

If Claire wanted to get to know Jim, the real Jim, then she was going to have to get a little more creative.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #both sides of the sky #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #ophelia nuñez #javier nuñez #merlin #walter strickler #jim lake jr #Regency AU

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loptyrs-moved · 3 years

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Can you talk more abt ur fandoms ocs? I like your writing a lot and would like to know more abt em

Oh my goodness I’m 🥺🥺🥺🥺 you’re SO sweet thank you!

Well, I have quite a few and some have their own deeper lore stories that go with them. If you guys want more information on them, I can do separate posts on all of them. But Here they are! I’m so excited to share my babies with you!

More is under the cut. The Picrew I used is here.

Ikemen Revolution

Black Army Side

Corrin Fukui

Age: Appears to be in mid-early twenties

Hair: Brick white

Eyes: Blood Red

Height: 4′11

Any other Qualities:

Draconic features -- She’s literally a dragon but not by nature

Curved Opalescent Horns

Shimmery opalescent tail

Wings that also shimmer in the light

retractable?

Pointed ears

Easily frightened by loud noises and sudden movements

stunted growth

Hoards blankets and comfort items

writes in a journal every day

its one luka got for her and she refuses to write in anything else. she pours her heart out on the pages, and all her memories

she had a brother! but he passed away because of the magic tower :(

turns into a gIANT DRAGON

ICE ICE BREATH BABY

Was found by Luka while on a patrol near the forbidden forest, lost and afraid, so she was taken in

Had amnesia at first

She actually is an experiment of Amon and she managed to escape

Excellent at sewing and gardening

Sufficient with baking

She’s for Luka! The way they fell for each other was a slow, gradual trust, and mutual understanding. She saw him as a man, as he was, and nothing else.

Sometimes is called Corri

gentle hearted and innocent

but not as innocent as you’d think

she’s a dragon, and she’s a greedy little one

Ophelia Dae

Age: 24

Hair: Crimson red

Eyes: Jade green

Height: 5′8

Any other Qualities:

A skilled swordsman, and one of the Chosen Thirteen

9 of Spades baybeee

While she is more accustomed to short swords and sabers, Phelia is a magic user! But she isn’t really in agreement with Ray with his stance on magic

BOMBASTIC AS HELL

BISEXUAL

“Is he bothering you Queen?”

Trans

Was friends with Ray and Fenrir while in school, and was just as much of a hellraiser as them

she was there when the day things went dark happened and was almost taken but that day is a blur for her

phelia REFUSES to talk about it

she still has nightmares

raised by a single mother

TRIVIA! She was an old fire emblem oc i had and she was the daughter of Arvis -- so if you squint when she uses magic you’ll see Valflame

joined the army probably because Fenrir was too, and she was inspired by him

she joined for her own reasons but he made it easier for her to do it too

his passion was what made her fall for him in the first place

has a personal vendetta against the magic tower for what they did to her and her friends

AND CORRIN JEEZ

will sacrifice herself if necessary to the cause

PROBABLY HAS ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF IT

Bruh girl

Amira Nasiri

Age: 22

Hair: Chocolate brown

Eyes: Turquoise blue

Height: 5′3

Any other qualities:

My version of Alice! Difference is that she’s Persian

That’s it

She’s just as spunky as Alice

however she responds with being called Alice a little different

she’s adamant about being called Amira

At some point she just accepts Seth does it to distance himself

also an avid baker like alice

pISTACIOS

BAKLAVA

Amira is just Alice except she’s just my take on her.

She has the same vibrant spirit as Alice

and I personally consider Seth the canon route for REASONS

just ask me why fjgdfgjksd

Red Army Side

Azul Flores

Age: 25

Hair: Raven black

Eyes: Wisteria purple

Height: 5′0

Any Other Qualities:

An old friend of the Queen of Hearts

like she met him when she was 8 years old

fought his bullies when they would give him a hard time when he was a kid

they dated for a WHILE

did NOT work out

HARD CHILDHOOD

Ambitious, hard working young woman who was married into a high standing family on the Red side. Her mother was a teacher and gained the attention of one of the Chosen Thirteen on that side, and got married

Azul is NOT the officer’s daughter. She’s his step daughter

Has had extensive studies on the History of Cradle and of the Red Territory.

Wants to be a Cradle Historian

Works for the Red Army as a personal assistant to the queen

UNINTENTIONAL

THEY ACTUALLY CANT STAND EACH OTHER

Unless....

Look their story is very dramatic and it hurts me every day so please stay tuned with them.

CUT THROAT BITCH

YOUR DEVIL

DEMON

Heckles Jonah like its her job — she knows him better than anyone elsd, if anyone knows his bs, its her

Bad resting bitch face

Actually really shy, and quiet when in different surroundings

A sweetheart and will cut a bitch for you once she knows u

She is perhaps one of the most transparent, honest, genuine person. there is no bullshit with her. she will tell you her honest thoughts with you

Cerise Nam

Age: 19

Hair: Berry Pink

Eyes: Petal Pink

Height: 5′2

Any other qualities:

Her mom came to Cradle from a far off place, and set up a food and pastry shop in the Central Quarter. Met her dad. Been there since

They live in Black Territory

She works for her parents and works with the pastries/desserts

loves making desserts from where her parents are from

She knows the Queen of Hearts VERY well since she makes the best mille feuille

Got a job from him actually, and works for the Red Army Headquarters kitchen

Loves to cook and bake!

a little naïve, but she’s a realist

youngest of FIVE kids!!

Morning girl

She may be petite but she can HEAFT heavy bags of flour/rice/dry goods

Met Zero by accident, and crashed into him while in town

love at first sight for her. how can you fault her?

she thinks he’s dreamy... and sweet...

does she flirt with him a little? Cerise can’t help it...

She and Zero have more of a hidden relationship because she fears her parents won’t approve

family stuff -- and she understands

RED ARMY OFFICER?? BLACK TERRITORY GIRL

look im cheesy

dont worry it works out

zero has to consider himself and his own personal stuff too so its a little difficult

Non Army Suitor(s)

Lucile Lidell

Age: 20

Hair: Straw blonde

Eyes: Aqua blue

Height: 5'1

Any other qualities:

She and her twin, Noelle, are the actual descendants of the original Alice

Inherited unusual hairpins that were from cradle

More of the 'modern woman stuck in the wrong time' kind of gal

Rebellious

Noelle and Luci: partners in crime

Short skirts galore

Does not give a singular shit of what MEN think of her

Wants to be taken seriously

Sometimes acts like an airhead in order to get attention. She's actually pretty somber as a person and prefers to be in the background as her sister takes the stage

loves her sister more than anyone else in the world

When she and Noelle fall into Cradle, they kind of hightail it and live in the woods with Harr and Loki

Sticks with Harr since he's literally the least threatening man ever

First man to feel safe around

"Excuse me he said NO pickles!"

Will cut a bitch for him, or use magic -- luci will hurt someone if they even think a bout looking at him wrong

Loves to make clothes

'I mended the holes in your cloak for you...' 'Bye Harr, be safe and have a good day.'

'Welcome home, I missed you.'

Puts up a tough girl front but she's just a big softie just like him

Doesn't realize she has a crush on him until shit starts to hit the fan

Actually very vanilla tbh but wants to spoil her bf

Ikemen Sengoku

Ito Tsunade

Age: 26

Hair: Straw Blonde

Eyes: Molten Gold

Height: 5′5

Any Other Qualities:

Graduate student at the same university as Sasuke

got stuck in the storm with him and Mai, and was tossed into the sengoku era

but she got separated from Mai

Met Shingen first much to her luck because uh.... lets say Tsunade is aint the sharpest tool in the shed

HEAD EMPTY

ZERO THOUGHTS

AIRHEAD

her aesthetic when she gets there?

TITS OUT

BIG HONKERS BIG TATA

HOT

her head might be empty but her tits are fat and they will protect you

Music nerd — loves traditional Japanese instruments, especially the difficult ones

Specializes in girl metal in modern day

eventually proves herself and plays some sick chords for the takeda/uesegi forces

she has entertained them for now

puts sake away like a monster

when she meets sasuke, she finds comfort in the fact he’s also lost with her, so she clings

asks him how to protect herself from shingen bc he’s horny lolol

genuinely thinks sasuke is hilarious

also does NOT realize she’s in love with him until the gravest of grave happens

her name was UNINTENTIONAL

Aibana Hinata

Age: Presents in his early-mid twenties

Hair: Black Midnight

Eyes: Haunting gold and vermillion

Height: 5'3

Any other qualities:

The concubine of Nobunaga

Please know I made him a long while before the other guy was dropped so I’m just gonna offer this little gay boy

Nobunaga bought him from a brothel after being so intrigued by him. Hina entertained him so well that he was set for life

A RIGHT SNARKY BASTARD

HE KNOWS HE’S PRETTY AND CAN GET AWAY WITH MURDER

Likes to challenge Nobunaga in battles of wits

board games

debate as pillow talk

swordplay if the lords will entertain him enough

Bisexual as hell

Gender? Don’t know her

He uses all pronouns

True pronoun: princess

ONLY EXISTS IN A UNIVERSE WHERE THERE IS MAI

Nobunaga/Mai/Hinata........

Unless.......

Smart, and educated

former geisha

he can read! and write!

LOVE FUCKING WITH HIDEYOSHI

if there is mai, he would bond with her like no one else

he would be her best friend

her confidant

genuinely adores her

even if she is pursuing nobunaga, he doesn’t resent her ... he just wishes that she would find room in her heart for him too

puts up a tough exterior

a softie.....

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teddy-bear-surprise · 4 years

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Chapter 2: The Brink of Darkness

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 Part 1 || Chapter 7 Part 2 || Chapter 8 || Almost The End || Chapter 9 ||

WARNING: Mentions of death/murder and excessive drinking

It was nearing five o'clock when Ophelia wandered through the aisles of some random corner store in Downtown LA, picking up, examining, and adding items to her basket. She was thinking about what to do for New Years', only two weeks remained before she would enter 2018 and she could not wait to celebrate. She considered crashing a party in LA, staying at home and watching the ball drop on the television, or possibly even flying out to New York to see it for herself.

Ophelia had made a lot of money in her youth, showered in promotions and offers from some of the biggest engineering companies in the United States and beyond. Now, at the age of thirty-seven, she rarely had to work anymore. Her days and nights were generally spent in the solitude of her home, simply reading or researching novelties. It was rare for Ophelia to go out and travel, so visiting New York City on New Years' sounded like a swell idea. She nursed the idea as she walked, deciding to look into it further once she returned home and she continued her shopping.

The first items that she picked up were two fresh linen-scented candles, one bottle of acetone, and a nice bottle of cheap, red wine. It felt like just yesterday she had turned twenty-one and buying alcohol still felt like a crime... frankly, a lot of things she did felt like that. She was about to enter the snack aisle to look for some decadent snacks, but she heard a television chittering from the front of the store, catching her attention.

"One more dead celebrity this morning, it's absolutely tragic. Rachel, what do you think is happening? These murders are scaring everyone, myself included."

"Well, Diego, it seems as though the perpetrator, or possibly perpetrators, are targeting rich, male celebrities. Why exactly, we do not know. More about the Golden Murders after this break–"

Ophelia was amused by their ignorance, "If only they knew who those men really were," she thought to herself.

An ad began playing and Ophelia's attention was once more drawn to her hunger. She found the popcorn first, stocking up on three boxes of the salty snack before searching for her other craving. Once she added a bar of dark chocolate to her now overflowing basket, she headed towards the checkout lines.

She acted incredibly nonchalant, her expression never faltered from its indifferent norm, even as the clerk conversed with her.

"You see what they just showed on the news? Scary stuff, huh?" The cashier looked up at Ophelia, raising his eyebrows.

"Uhhh, yeah. It is kind of scary, I guess. I'm not a man though, so I don't really think I have to worry," she did not want to divulge much on the subject, preferring to keep an ambiguous expression.

The cashier ignored her dismissive tone and continued rambling on, "Y'know, when the first one happened I wasn't that surprised, these rich people can get mixed up in some shady things sometimes so I was like, 'It's just one dead rich man, what's the big deal?' But now. Now, I'm definitely thinking that something's up. Either they're all in the same cult," he lowered his voice and leaned towards Ophelia who withdrew from him.

"Or they've all done something really, really bad," he straightened up again and finished scanning her items, "Your total is gonna be twenty-three dollars and forty-eight cents. Cash or card?"

His demeanor returned to normal and Ophelia shrugged off the odd tangent he had gone off on before replying, "Cash, exact change," and picking up her bag as she dropped her money on the counter.

She exited the store quickly and threw her purchase into the front, passenger's seat of her 1982 Chevrolet Citation. A classic, but somewhat ugly, light blue car. She inserted her key into the ignition, pushed down on her brake pedal, and twisted it a few times as the engine sputtered. Annoyed at her junk car, she smacked her hand against the key angrily. This time when she turned it, however, the engine started. She pulled out of the crowded, street-side parking spot and started on her way home.

Her brain was clouded and churning, both hating and loving all of the attention she was indirectly receiving on the news. Despite slightly enjoying the attention, she wished people would not talk about it as much, especially if they were spending most of the time idolizing the abusive men who were killed. Even opening the windows to feel the brisk air as she drove did nothing to clear her mind. She turned to her last resort, the radio. She cranked up the volume, which was not actually loud at all, and turned the station to one that was playing one of her favorite songs from the 2012 era. Ophelia sang along loudly, enjoying the rhythm and lyrics equally.

When the song ended though, the station's hosts brought up the Golden Murders once more, infuriating her and her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"So, we've just received news that federal law enforcement will now be taking interest in this upsetting case. What do you think of this?"

"I think that it's a great idea. I have no doubt that our local law enforcement was doing their best, but these are celebrities we're talking about, their faces are plastered everywhere and people look up to them. It's scaring people, you know? The faster they can get to the bottom of this, the better."

"You heard it here first, folks. The FBI will be landing here in LA in two days, whoever is behind these murders, you better buckle up buddy. Until next time on 97.9, the station of your dreams!"

Ophelia rolled her eyes and clicked it off, so much for escaping her problems. She hated the way that these reporters always made her feel like the prey when in reality, she was the hunter. But she was not the only hunter in this game. Her partner, Catherine, was just as guilty and probably nowhere near as worried as Ophelia. She was almost certain that it was just Catherine's clinically psychotic tendencies that gave her the upper hand in situations like these, but she still felt a tinge of jealousy.

She had met Catherine 'Cat' Adams a few years ago on Tinder. Cat's profile surprised her, bringing all of the spunk of a younger woman, despite being only a year younger than Ophelia, but without the immaturity. On their first date, they went out to one of those silly drive-in movies and watched the worst possible movie in cinematic existence. It did not matter to them though because they talked the entire time, sharing their favorite and their most hated things about life.

Ophelia soon realized that she and Catherine were near mirror images of each other, in terms of ideologies at least. After only three more dates, the two became an official couple. Cat even admitted, two months into their relationship, that she never intended to make a Tinder account and said that it was much too irresponsible in her line of work. When Ophelia asked Cat what this line of work was, she received a very ambiguous answer.

"I'd love to tell you, hun, but I don't think I can. Not yet, at least. Maybe someday," she could remember Cat tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her chin as she said this next part, "when we've been together for longer, I might even invite you to come work with me."

She never expected that a couple of years later, she and Cat would become a murderous duo, slightly resembling the women of the musical, Chicago. Though they had broken up the first time that Cat was sent to prison, they remained extremely close and it was not until she escaped in August that they began their moonlight endeavors.

According to Catherine, it had been 'shockingly' easy and 'way too fun' to escape, not even requiring her to employ her 'Plan B'. Ophelia did not even know that she would be seeing Cat again within the century, but when she showed up on Ophelia's doorstep in the middle of the night, her ex-lover could not help but let her back into her life.

Cat's slightly off-kilter and bold mannerisms were some of Ophelia's favorite things about her. Now, unfortunately, Cat was forced to be much more low-key. She drove the most average car in existence, a run-down 2008 Toyota Corolla; lived in an extremely average apartment with one room and one bathroom; and looked like the average Los Angelean thirty-year-old-woman with her now blonde hair.

Ophelia paid for all of Cat's expenses, like her apartment and groceries, and though it barely dented her pockets, she always made sure that Catherine respected the fact that she was spending Ophelia's money and not her own. They had an incredibly symbiotic relationship, of course, living apart did make some aspects more difficult. Ophelia took care of all of the necessities, such as materials and planning and Cat took care of the creative aspects of their 'activities'.

They could not fully remember how it all happened. It started innocently with some tequila shots and the celebration of Cat's return. Within an hour, however, the two were stumbling around drunk and preaching their hatred for their abusive fathers and men in general which, for a while, was fine. Suddenly things took a turn when Cat asked if Ophelia had ever considered killing her father. Ophelia laughed drunkenly for a few minutes before managing to spit out the fact that he was already dead. The two of them burst into a cacophony of drunken laughter that rang throughout her house. When they calmed down though, Cat asked again, this time even more serious. The rest, including a bit of an entanglement between them, was history because what happens on a drunken night, stays in the drunken night.

For some reason, thinking about her and Cat's history brought her a sense of peace. So much so that she was already pulling into her driveway when she switched her train of thought. The yellow-beige tones of her house repulsed her, but they were neutral and bland, practically guaranteeing that she would stay out of people's line of sight. Ophelia opened her car door, leaning her elbow on the top of it, and looked behind her admiring the landscape of the mountains that surrounded her home, because even if the home itself was ugly, at least it had a good view. She leaned back into her car to grab her purse and shopping bag before slamming the car door and heading towards its trunk. Inside, she retrieved a trash bag, which although very large and cold, was surprisingly light and easy to carry.

She carried all of these into her house, struggling to open the door with only one free hand, and set them down near her back door. After writing down a quick note to look more into the idea of going to New York, Ophelia began putting up her new purchases. She was incredibly tired and not entirely in the mood to do menial cleaning duties but continued anyway. The two candles each earned a spot on either side of her countertop, the wine went into her refrigerator, and the snacks got tossed into the pantry. The acetone, on the other hand, got a very special spot in her pocket. She carried it with her outside, picking up the trash bag on her way to her backyard.

Ophelia stopped in front of an oddly-shaped fire-pit, one of her own inventions from her time at MIT (it seemed useless at the time but now came in handy), and lifted its cover. It featured a thick, steel, rounded lid and a sturdy concrete body. She dumped out the contents of the trash bag into the strange pit, promptly followed by her pouring out the bottle of acetone and banging the top shut. After waiting a few seconds, enough time for enough of the acetone to accumulate inside the pit in its gaseous form, she clicked a small red button and heard a blast go off inside. It had been specially designed to withstand the accumulated pressure of an incredibly powerful flash fire, though the ones she was creating were not very large. A few more seconds later, following the activation of the pit's exhaust system, Ophelia opened it back up to reveal the ashes of her once bloodied clothing.

She coughed at the pungent smell and rushed back inside to where there was cleaner air. Even within her house, the smell followed her, so she decided to light her two new candles and take a shower.

When she exited, her stomach let out a low grumble which she felt deeply. Ophelia shuffled over to her refrigerator to grab a slice of cold pizza. She devoured it hungrily, still feeling unsatisfied. Now turning to her second plan, wine and popcorn, she pranced to her pantry, grabbing the popcorn, and then to her fridge to retrieve the wine. Ophelia carefully poured herself a glass of the red liquid as she waited for her bag of the unhealthy, salty snack in the microwave to finish popping. Once the microwave dinged, it was time for her to start the party.

She downed her first glass of wine in one continuous gulp and turned on some absurdly loud music, which, thanks to her somewhat isolated location, no one else could hear. Ophelia now danced with a hand full of popcorn and the bottle of wine in the other. It had barely been ten minutes and she was already drunk. She stumbled into her kitchen to grab some more popcorn from the bag when she saw her phone light up out of the corner of her eye. Ophelia tried to distinguish the name that had appeared on her screen, but her vision was much too blurred for her to tell.

"It's probably nothing, just a scam call... I mean, who else would call me at," She tried to read the clock on the wall, "I don't know, but it's late why can't they just leave me alone."

Her drunken thoughts slurred together as she ignored her phone, only inciting her to increase the volume of her already blaring music. Popcorn, in her drunken state and time of night, tasted extra good and Ophelia finished the bag almost immediately. She rounded the corner, into her living room, and continued to dance to the beat of the music with the bottle in her left hand. Her clumsy feet stumbled slightly, leading her to bump into a bookshelf.

Ophelia looked up at the bookshelf angrily, almost as if it was a real person that she had bumped into, but her eyes softened when they settled upon a picture frame. "'Germs'", she recalled lovingly as she touched the glass gently. It was a framed photograph of her and Spencer at their first Science Olympiad competition.

They were the only members on their team, but it did not matter because they still managed to garner themselves a shining, first place trophy. She remembered how difficult it had been to convince the teachers at her school to let them start the club, how they spent hours going over budgets, fundraising, and game plans. More than anything though, she remembered how happy Spencer had been to take home his very own prize.

A feeling of sadness and longing welled up inside her, wishing she could be as innocent as that girl in the photograph, wishing that she had not lost contact with her first 'best friend'. Alas, the night was coming to an end and she could not bear the pain of her sorrows, so with another prolonged swig, Ophelia finished the bottle of wine.

She gave it a few minutes to act, turning off her music and sitting herself down on her couch awkwardly, before feeling its sedating effects. Quietly, she placed the bottle on the ground and looked up once more at the picture on her bookshelf while her heavy eyes closed for a night of dreamless sleep.

#spencer x oc #spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #unsub #reid x oc #reid #fanfic #fanfiction #angsty #enemies to lovers

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riathenowheregirl · 5 years

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Gold Dust Women: My Favorite Witchy Singers

Okay, before you burn me alive with “Where’s this certain artist?!” or “Why is this certain artist not here?!” or “Who even uses Tumblr these days?”, uhmmm me bish?? It’s my safe zone. Okay, the last question was a joke.

Can I just say that the amazing women on this list are artists I listen to all the time. They’re my favorites, so chill (I’m open for suggestions tho). This is not Rolling Stone or Billboard magazine, it’s just ya girl’s good ol’ tumblr blog. Also, I’m not saying that all of them are literal w i t c h e s, it’s just that they portray the same aesthetic through their art and music.

Alright, now that’s settled, let’s start.

1. STEVIE NICKS

Do I even need to explain this? Stevie is undoubtedly the Etheral Queen of them all, the Pioneer, the O.G. Supreme whose lyrical soul and spellbinding voice echoes from the distant past to the inevitable future. Everything about her oozes with witchcraft and magic starting from her iconic top hat, to her millions of intricately made shawls, down to her platform boots. Only Stevie Nicks could pull off such Not-of-this-Era outfits and she has been doing it CONSISTENTLY. She’s in a timeline of her OWN. If you listen to her music, you would notice that every song of hers is poetry, like she’s telling a story or conjuring the unknown. She’s every witchy woman’s icon and that’s a fact.

Stevie is an untouchable yet gracious legend, we’ll always be a part of her sisterhood until the day of earth’s decay. Forever the Queen of Rock N’ Roll.

Current Favorite Stevie Lyrics: “ You can fly swinging from your trapeze, scaring all the people...but you'll never scare me.” | “Once in a million years a lady like her rises. Oh no, Rhiannon, you cry, but she's gone and your life knows no answer.”

Notice how I used the word “current”? Because it always changes depending on the state my life. Here’s a more detailed post on why I love her.

2. KATE BUSH

“Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy, I've come home, I'm so cold! Let me in through your window!”

The eccentric beauty, Kate Bush made a genius, artistic move by writing a song about the book, Wuthering Heights, written by Emily Brontë in the 1800′s. Mind you, she was only 18 when she wrote and was the first song written by a female artist that landed on top the charts. Her voice is almost as distinctive as Stevie Nicks. While Stevie’s more nasal, commanding, wailing rock n’ roll goddess, Kate’s voice was high-pitched, alarming, ghostly, queer, and fairy-like. Everything about her is Performance Art. This is a woman who is not afraid to express herself.

For starters, you might think her music is strange and weird. Trust me, I felt the same way when I first heard her songs. But then, it began to grow on me leaving floral patterns on its path.

Favorite Kate Bush Lyrics: “Do you want to feel how it feels? Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making? You, it's you and me.”

3. FLORENCE WELCH

This one is as obvious as Stevie Nicks. Florence Welch from the band, Florence + the Machine, is a poetess, a screaming banshee, and a full-pledged Sister of the Moon. She even started a witch coven during middle school. From her red carpet looks to her everyday outfits on Instagram, Florence vibrates powerful witch energy. Not to mention she has a song called “Which Witch” and that haunting music video for Big God with levitating women. Flo is not a woman to trifle with, I’ll tell you that.

Photos courtesy of @lillieeiger

In all her songs, Florence will bind you with magic and it’ll leave you breathless. If Stevie’s songs are poetry, hers are spells you could sing out loud. Also, if you haven’t seen her house tour, go check it now!

Favorite Florence Welch Lyrics: “'Cause I am done with my graceless heart so tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart.” | “And in a moment of joy and fury I threw myself in the balcony like my grandmother so many years before me.”

4. LANA DEL REY

Remember when Lana used witchcraft to hex Donald Trump? It was all over the news and Twitter went wild. She was later quoted saying, “I really do believe that words are one of the last forms of magic and I’m a bit of a mystic at heart.” Oh, and she also did a collab with Stevie.

We. Stan. Forever.

There was even a time that I MEMORIZED the monologue in the music video for Ride. ALL OF IT, HUNNY.

Lana’s hypnotizing vocals together with her sixties baby doll dresses and Priscilla Presley hair is enough to convince me that she’s not of this era. She has a deep understanding of the beauty of past generation and the looming sadness and nostalgia that comes with it. Whenever I listen to her music, I imagine myself as a rockstar’s muse who is involved with the mafia but then I decided to leave him while taking his gun and convertible. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Favorite Lana Del Rey Lyrics: “Well, my boyfriend's in the band. He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed. I've got feathers in my hair, I get down to Beat poetry. And my jazz collection's rare, I can play most anything.”

5. LORDE

David Bowie didn’t call her the “future of music” for nothing. Just two albums under her belt, Lorde already proved that she will one day become a legend herself. Her music narrates an unparalleled interpretation of the anguish and fleeting charm of our youth. She knows what we’re feeling because she’s been there herself and is on the road to healing just like us.

I think the message she’s trying to say is that we’re constantly losing grip on our innocence, and that life is often wicked so we need to accept that, grit our teeth, get on with it, and make art. She can also see color when she hears music.

In my opinion, Lorde is one of the greatest artists of my generation.

Favorite Lorde Lyrics: “The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy till all of the tricks don't work anymore, and then they are bored of me.” | “That slow burn wait while it gets dark, bruising the sun, I feel grown up with you in your car. I know it's dumb.”

6. FKA TWIGS

Honestly, FKA Twigs is literally art in living form, a celestial angel that nobody can easily decipher. This woman has more talent in her fingertips than I could ever have in a lifetime. She somehow reminds me of a young Kate Bush; fearless, experimental, with an intoxicating voice. She never stops reinventing herself and it’s beautiful.

In FKA Twigs’ world, there are no limits, just endless galaxies. She pours her whole being in all of her songs and it shows. She’s not for the faint of heart, let me tell you that.

Favorite FKA Twigs Lyrics: “And I don't want to have to share our love. I try but I get overwhelmed. All wrapped in cellophane, the feelings that we had.”

7. SKOTT

I say this all the time, but I cannot write without Skott’s music blasting on my earphones. She grew up in a “forest commune run by outcast folk musicians” and was not exposed to contemporary music until her teen years. You would notice it in her songs.

It’s hard to explain why, but listen to Skott’s music when there’s thunder and rain outside, then you’ll know why this woman is witchy. I kind of want her to be more popular and known, but then again, I also want to keep her to myself. Scratch that, LISTEN TO SKOTT’S MUSIC NOW.

Start with Glitter & Gloss.

Favorite Skott Lyrics: “Like an empty canvas, hear me cry. Like a masterpiece, I'm in your eyes. Now your colors are in front of me, we're a picture-perfect oddity.”

8. FIRST AID KIT

I fell in love with this sister duo when I first heard their song, Emmylou, while browsing YouTube. It’s one of those moments of instant magic. Klara and Johanna Söderberg are a coven of their own. I would describe their music as “Woodland Folk laced with runes and wild flowers”.

Their voices compliment each other so much that it reminded me of Simon & Garfunkel (they even performed their own version of America in front of Paul Simon!!!). First Aid Kit has this Woodstock seventies vibe, and you know me, I live for that sh*t.

Favorite First Aid Kit Lyrics: “ When I run through the deep dark forest long, after this begun, where the sun would set, the trees were dead and the rivers were none. And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place, but there was no sound there was only me, and my disgrace.”

9. ZOLA JESUS

Zola Jesus’ music deserves to be played with an orchestra inside an abandoned castle in Transylvania while it gently rains and you’re wearing a white nightgown as you roam its empty halls. Is that too much?

Not at all.

Like Skott, I listen to Zola whenever I’m having writer’s block. If I ever finish my book, I’m gonna have to thank them.

Favorite Zola Jesus Lyrics: “I'm on my bed, my bed of stones, but in the end of the night we'll rest our bones, so don't you worry. Just rest your head cause in the end of the night we'll be together again.”

10. ZELLA DAY

Photo Credits to Harper Smith

I LOVE ZELLA DAY’S MUSIC OH MY GOODNESS. My favorite songs of her are Sweet Ophelia, Hypnotic, Man on the Moon, and Hunnie Pie. ESPECIALLY HUNNIE PIE. I cry whenever I hear that song. It’s just so pure, calming, and beautiful.

Her music belong in the psychedelic era.

People labeled her as the “happier version of Lana Del Rey” but I think she’s in a league of her own. She deserves more recognition, honestly!

Favorite Zella Day Lyrics: “The older we get there's an ocean of people in places we've chosen and you know how mama keeps saying “we've gotta stop the games we're playing””.

Hope you guys approve of my list! I really like sharing stuff that I love! Feel free to message me for more suggestions, I’d really appreciate to know more witchy artists out there. We’re all in a huge coven of sisterhood.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

Ria 🌙

P.S.

Please follow my blog!!! THANK YOU 🔮

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joy-the-vamp · 5 years

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Twilight Tag Game !!!

i was tagged by @janes-eyebrows , which thank you so much for tagging me, i love getting tagged in things so much :))))))

@sweaterbella is the creator of this game! :)

rules: copy/paste this and fill in the blanks to describe your twilight self insert oc, then tag ten people, and tag me so i can see it! feel free to modify what you need to if you want your character to be volturi/human/werewolf/etc. feel free to be as ridiculous or as sincere as you like.

name: pre-vampire: Aurora Jade Monroe

post-vampire: Scarlett Ophelia Cullen

appearance: She is 5'7, long curly red hair, and is pale because of ginger genetics plus when you're a vampire, you get hella pale !! She's 18 but can pass for anywhere between 15 - 20, for immortal reasons. When she was a human she had freckles and was sad to see that they had disappeared after she was turned. Lucky for her, she can still draw them on if she'd like to. As a human, her eyes were green but as a vampire they are an amber-almost-honey color. She really is into fashion (which is one of the many reasons why she became best friends with Alice) so she always wears hella cute clothing and even has dabbled into making some of her own (though shes not very good at that but hey shes trying)

personality: ENFP, though she considers herself to be more of an ambivert. When she needs time to herself, she goes off into the forest and sings to herself or listens to music. She gets a long with people very well as long as theyre good people. Though she considers herself to be a strong person, looking back on her human life, she did consider herself to be a bit of a dormat. Shes taking this oppurtunity at a new life to reinvent herself for the better. She decided to start that with changing her name. Though she didn't hate her human name, she felt that her old self is dead and that this would not only help her move on from her old life but to be able to better herself. She had loved the name Ophelia ever since she saw Hamlet. She made it her middle name since it sounded too old to be her first name. The name Scarlett had always just sounded so lovely to her so she was immediately drawn to it. She wants to live her new life with a love-filled heart but to always make sure to not let people step on her, which she is working on the latter.

hobbies: singing, drawing, reading, writing, getting vintage stuff (like from a lot of different eras), trying to learn how to sew and make clothes

diet: vegetarian with the accidental human a few times when she was a newborn

How they became a vamp: She was turned by Carlisle when she was 18. She hadn't been careful while in the woods and fell into a ditch where she hit her head on a rock.

How they fit into the plot: She is turned right before they move to a new town and because shes a ginger, she can easily pass as Edward's twin sister

vampire superability: She has telekinesis

Best friend: Alice !!!!

significant other: For right now, none, but maybe in the future Rosalie or maybe Jasper. This would have to be a universe where whoever it would be, didn't already have a s/o cause we don't stan affairs in the Cullen house

Fun fact: She used to have to wear glasses and contacts when she was a human but now that shes a vampire, she doesn't need them but she liked how her glasses looked so she sometimes wears the frames still cause theyre hella cute!! Shes thankful though thay her vampirism cured her migraines though cause she used to get those a lot growing up. She also misses her family and felt bad about having to leave them

I’m tagging: @toprosalie @jaspersthebomb @softjaspers @mbav3rdseason @su-angelvicioso (plus anyone else who wants to can do it, theres more people i wanted to tag but its very late at night/early in the morning and i cant think rn lmao)

#twilight oc #edit: i got really sad cause no one saw it #turns out i somehow didnt get it to tag anyone properly #whoopsies #idk how though cause i had everyone like @'d

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ao3feed--reylo · 6 years

Text

Quintessence of Dust

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2FJob3R

by theselittlethings

Everything stops in a flash of blinding white light when the saber breaks, leaving Kylo Ren unconscious on the floor. He wakes up to wander in a world he doesn’t know but where everyone is strangely familiar, finding a young woman drowning in a forest’s stream. He drags her body to the marshy banks, eyes widening with recognition when he sees she wears Rey’s face. Her spirit breaks in anguish and something calls to him to protect her from the feigned madness of her former lover & Denmark’s prince. Her hair is long and red but her lips are the same, shaking softly when she says her name is Ophelia.

AND/OR

Kylo Ren confronts his past & himself when he ends up in Act V of Hamlet instead of Crait: a Shakespearean take on an Ophelia crossover AU.

Words: 5850, Chapters: 1/5, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Ophelia (2018), Hamlet - Shakespeare

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Armitage Hux, Padmé Amidala, Owen Lars

Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Ophelia/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Shakespearean Language, References to Shakespeare, POV Kylo Ren, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Visions, The Force Ships It, Suicide Attempt, Swordfighting, Angst, Romance, doppelgangers, Past Luke/Rey, Because Hamlet Looks Like Young OT Luke, Did I mention angst, Heavy Angst, Stream of Consciousness, Protective Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Rey Needs A Hug, Bastardizing Shakespeare, Kylo Ren Is Nearly Space Hamlet Already, So Now He's There For Real, Alas poor yorick

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2FJob3R

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Star Wars #Reylo #Kylo Ren #Rey

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dat-assize · 6 years

Text

Not Quite Munday Anymore Munday Meme

Remember to copy and paste and fill in your own answers! Tag people if you want some late-week Munday leftovers! I’m tagging whoever wants to do it. :B

general info:

♡ preferred name: Jen. Most people call me Lily 'cause that's the character name; I answer to that too. ♡ age: Just turned 32 back in March. ♡ pronouns: While I answer to anything, she/her are my correct pronouns. ♡ sexuality: Bi-Demi ♡ height: 5'8" ♡ hair colour: This awful black-grey-brownish mottled...thing. I dye it red. ♡ relationship status: Taken ♥

favourite things:

♡ favourite colour: Silver and green, followed closely by orange. ♡ favourite song: Gypsy by Lady Gaga ♡ favourite band / artist: I will always be ride or die for ZP-era Dragonforce. I also enjoy me some Sabaton. ♡ favourite youtubers: Rachel & Jun, Mekkah Dee, Mellowbeat Seekers ♡ favourite food: Sushi/seafood. Typical weeb stuff. I also enjoy Indian curry. ♡ favourite family member: My late aunt ♡ favourite bird: Hornbills ♡ favourite animal: My favorite grouping is felines. ♡ favourite celebrity: When I answered this on FB I said no one, but that's a lie. Carrie Fisher. ♡ favourite time of day?: Late afternoon/twilight ♡ favourite holiday(s): Halloween and Christmas. There's a certain kind of energy in the air. ♡ favourite season: Autumn. (Look, I'm a typical white girl who likes her pumpkin spice everything, okay.) ♡ favourite fruit: Plums, red grapes ♡ favourite flower: Daylilies and snapdragons ♡ favourite emoji(s): :D, :B, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, :playdead: ♡ favourite app: Love Nikki, Neko Atsume ♡ favourite hobby: Games, studying ♡ favourite country: None, since I haven't left my own yet. ♡ favourite weather: Overcast, rainy ♡ favourite element: Magick-wise, air. ♡ favourite language: Now that I'm more coherent when filling this out, my family's native tongue of Arabic. Also, Japanese and French.

name of:

♡ name of your crush: I feel like crushing on your boyfriend doesn't count, so like, N/A ♡ name of your pet(s): Ophelia ♥ ♡ name(s) of your best friend(s): Most of ya'll don't know him, but Kairo Fujima? Would literally die for him. He's been my closest friend for over a decade now. I would ride or die for that motherfucker even though I often say I'm gonna kill him myself one day--

this or that?

♡ introvert or extrovert: Introvert, though most people (co-workers) usually tell me I'm quite talkative at work. That's the Work Persona talking. ♡ nerdy or sassy: bowf ♡ tall or short: Taller than me, tbh ♡ looks or personality: Personality ♡ homesick or traveler: I'm a traveler sort of person, myself. ♡ musician or artist: If singing counts under musician, then both. But I'm not very good at either nowadays ♡ woods or city: City. I've done my time living in the woods. The silence drove me fucking insane. ♡ tv or youtube: Youtube. Who watches TV anymore? ♡ phone or computer: Both ♡ family or money: Both ♡ books or movies: Both ♡ food or sleep: Eat, then sleep off the food coma.

#munday #sorta munday #it's tuesday but idgaf

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stopidontgohere · 7 years

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☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ power move binch

damn ok!that was 50 stars so expect a long post

1. onnie, moren, and evonne have the most names out of all of my ocs. (three for onnie, three and a half for moren and evonne)2. out of the 12 major ocs i have, 4 of them are nonbinary.3. jack and redhead are the only ocs without any special powers.4. redhead is technically an evil entity. no ones sure how or why, not even me.5. i loosely based the name empress on the sea emperor from subnautica. 6. empress takes the form of a serpent, but she really isn’t.7. sherabiah, kaster, and evonne are based on dnd characters i never used.8. raech is a mix between tendril and realgar, two older ocs i had.9. is anyone actually reading all of these?10. moren is probably the oldest oc i have, being based on another oc i made when i was 15.

11. in terms of age, empress is the oldest oc.12. the timeline of chida takes place within several eras, whereas the incondite takes place within a week.13. the storytelling of the incondite was based on su, und.ertale, and f.naf, which makes it sound quote unquote “””cringey””” but idc.14. the storytelling of chida was based on rusty lake par.adise.15. frolly has no eyes.16. chida has seven eyes.17. empress has become somewhat of a mother or mentor figure to chida.18. onnie was killed by her father.19. no seriously is anyone reading these or am i wasting my time?20. the cause of ophelia/sherabiah’s death is unknown.

21. david/kaster adopted two kids named daniella and tag.22. the bird in the incondite is actually significant.23. i named the incondite while looking through a dictionary, if i remember correctly. i thought it was an interesting word with a definition that fit the story and character.24. i knew raech and onnie would end up together since the very beginning of creating the story.25. fuckin halfway there hell yeah26. i started shipping sherab and evonne as a joke and long story short they’re married now.27. i’m afraid of people shipping sherab with kaster.28. i’m not sure if frolly and chida should end up together yet.29. frankly i’m not even sure what gender frolly is.30. moren had the most name changes out of my ocs.

31. the story of the incondite was very different before i completely revised it.32. a few characters who didn’t make the cut were named isla, sam, spessartine, and anubias. 33. the characters added after the revision were izzy, sherabiah, kaster, and evonne.34. the pendant around evonne’s neck may or may not possess magical powers..35. evonne calls herself tallow at the beginning of the series. this started only because i couldn’t decide which name i liked better, but there is another reason in context.36. i’ve drawn onnie more often than my other ocs.37. i once had a dream about jack. except he was young and emo.38. if i had to do fmk with my ocs, i would fuck sherabiah, marry raech, and kill jack.39. while i view my incondite ocs as my children, i feel very detached from my chida ocs. but not in a bad way. like, they just kinda appeared one day and i was like “ok cool!”40. the incondite and chida i feel are opposite in terms of how the story is told. in the former, it’s mostly about the characters, finding out their backstories, and things like that. in the latter, it’s about the backstory of the situation itself rather than the characters. in fact, those characters don’t have much of a personality at all because i feel it would distract from other things.

41. well you’ve made it this far.42. despite everything, kaster died of a viral infection.43. izzy got super into paranormal shit after his friend passed.44. i seriously have no explanation for redhead. why is she a character that exists? i just don’t know.45. redhead’s design is based on a rumor about a red haired ghost girl that lived in my cousin’s corn field.46. i’m running out of things to say. raech is soft and warm like mash potatoes.47. onnie and raech are canonically autistic, but any of my characters could be seen as autistic because that’s all i know lol.48. the incondite takes place in an alternate version of earth, while chida takes place in a different universe entirely. 49. izzy has a southern accent for no reason other than i want them to have one.50. IKSTORM and EROSKIM have the same meaning in-universe, and while i won’t tell you what it means, you can probably figure it out if you’ve been paying attention.

#i worked hard on this so i need to save it #my ocs #lore! get your lore here folks!

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himbowelsh · 7 years

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can i trouble you for a canon-era au (au being no homophobia) where the boys are all placing bets on when web will finally crack and tell lieb he's literally in love with him, and most of them are *sure* joe is gonna reject web, but then lieb ends up basically tackling web with his mouth, and no one is more surprised by this development than web

AN: ahh, the fun of writing canon era stuff -- “no homophobia” au. the bar has never been lower! (i’m kidding, obviously)

David narrows his eyes down at the page in front of him and tries to will himself to focus. How hard can it be? Just read. All he needs to do is read, to lose himself in the words and block out everything that’s going on around him.

That’s easier said than done. George Luz is not an easy person to ignore; George Luz holding court around a deck of cards and improvised poker chips is almost impossible to ignore.

If he has to listen to a minute more of this, David is going to lose his mind. He holed up in the barracks for peace and quiet, not to be subjected to the rest of Easy’s social hour.

(Then again, what can he expect? Ever since they arrived in Austria, most of their “duties” as occupying forces have consisted of gambling, fraternization, and lots of alcohol.)

He hopes to find refuge in War and Peace. Instead, he’s wound up the unwilling eavesdropper to conversations he really wants no part of. The other men clearly haven’t noticed David in his little corner, and tempting as it is to leave and seek sanctuary somewhere else, he doesn’t know where he could go. Besides, walking out puts him at risk of running into the last person he wants to see.

Lying in bed isn’t tranquil, but it’s a lot less risky.

“Aww, what the hell? I thought you said you didn’t have any aces!”

“Go fish!”

“We’re playing poker, dammit!”

A round of cackles raise from the group, and David buries his face a little further into his book. He hears the sound of cards being slapped onto the mattress, and the clinking of bottles. This group must be running on enough alcohol to fuel a car.

“C’mon, Frank, cut me something here! I had to spend all day on guard with Webster, gimme some sympathy.”

“Ah, christ,” someone mutters. David shrinks down in his bunk, suddenly more eager than ever to go unseen. He has no interest in listening to their conversations, especially not ones about him, but the last thing he wants is for them to notice him in the middle of talking about him.

Why are they talking about him, anyway? He spent guard duty with Skinny today, and everything seemed fine as usual. They talked a bit, not about anything important... is guard duty with him some awful punishment?

Apparently. Perconte turns to clap Skinny on the back. “You’re a brave man.”

“Thanks. It was like torture, though -- seriously, he wouldn’t shut up. What was I supposed to say to him?”

“Same stuff as always?” Luz sounds amused.

“Of course. ‘Liebgott this’ and ‘Liebgott that’. If I have to hear that bastard’s name outta Web’s mouth one more time I’ll smash their faces together myself.”

“No kidding. Do us all a favor.” Luz cackles again. He sounds like the old witch from The Wizard of Oz. “We all know they’re not gonna get it together anytime soon.”

More cards slap down. Someone’s sigh echoes through the room. “Nah, I think they’ll do it. One of ‘em’s gonna make a move sometime, and someone’s either gonna end up kissed or punched in the face.”

“We all know who that’ll be,” Johnny Martin snorts. “Tell you what -- I’ll bet you fifteen euros that Web will tell Liebgott by the end of the month.”

“No way,” Luz scoffs. “Wait ‘till we’re all on our way to the Pacific. Web’ll tell him on the boat ride over. A romantic gesture before certain death of something dramatic like that. It’s Web’s style.”

“Poor bastard,” Perconte mutters. “Liebgott will laugh him out the door.”

“Or punch him. He’s the punchy type.”

“That too.” Perconte looks a little melancholy. “Poor Webster. It can’t be fun, being head over heels for a guy that can’t stand you.”

“You’d know,” Luz shoots back. “You think any of the girls at home can stand you?”

“I am a happily married man!”

As the group devolves into bickering once more, David curls up and stares blankly down at his book. His mind is racing; there’s a pain in his chest like someone’s shot him, and he can taste something sour in his mouth. Those... those bastards.

They’re supposed to be his brothers in arms! His comrades! What gives them the right to talk about him like he’s some poor pining Ophelia just waiting for her tragic end after telling her lover how she feels? How could they compare his thing for Joe to that? Whatever he feels for Joe -- whatever he feels -- is his own business. Just because they never learned how to be decent human beings and not make bets on their friends’ lives --

He’s raging. The words in front of his eyes don’t even make sense anymore; they’re just a blue of red and black. He’s sure he’s crumpling the pages from how tight he’s gripping his book, but he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. They have no right.

He came here to avoid thinking about Joe. Now he’s on his mind even worse than before, and the anger bubbling in David is unlike anything he’s felt since... since...

Since his last argument with Joe.

The door opens. David looks up, on reflex, and is confronted with the absolute last person he wants to see. A lanky build, messy hair, handsome face -- it’s Joe, in all his glory, and the sight of him causes something inside of David to bubble over.

The other men think he’s a coward? They think he’s too weak to confess his feelings? They think he’ll be rejected?

He’ll show them all.

“Joe!”

He hops off the top bunk in one easy motion, landing on his feet. On the other side of the room, the card players blink at him with wide eyes. None of them had realized he was there, but it’s too late now. David isn’t focused on them. There’s only one person he cares about.

“There’s something I need to say.” He marches right up to Liebgott, blazing eyes piercing the other man’s dark gaze. Liebgott draws himself up as David stops in front of him. He has no clue what’s coming, but he’s ready for a fight.

(Of course he is. That’s one of the things that impressed David about Joe from the beginning: he’s ready for anything, and not afraid of anyone.)

“We got a problem, Web?” Joe asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I think we do.”

David takes a deep breath, then kisses Joe smack on the lips.

It’s not the way he imagined their first kiss would go. When David imagined himself confessing to Liebgott, he pictured something heartfelt -- a love letter filled with his most sincere emotions, a recitation of poetry, an honest outpouring of all the words pent up inside of him since the day they met. Mashing his lips against Joe’s -- clumsy, spontaneous, messy -- was not part of the plan.

When he pulls away, it is to a dead silent room. The gamblers gape at him, jaws hanging open and cards frozen in their hands. Joe’s eyes are wide. His chest heaves with silent breaths. He is absolutely still.

David blinks up at him and tries to remember how to think. “That’s all I have to say,” he whispers. There is a beat of silence.

Then Joe lunges forward, so suddenly that David doesn’t have time to catch him. He is ready for a blow, a torrent of irate words and fists. He does not expect the sudden pressure against his mouth or the hands that twine around his back, pulling him closer.

Joe kisses like he does everything else -- furious and intense, impulse mixed with emotion. David tastes his tongue in his mouth. Their teeth clash. Joe’s fingers dig into his back, hands gripping him tightly. When they pull away, they are both panting for breath, and Joe’s eyes are on fire.

“Jesus, Web,” he mutters. “You always gotta make a big deal outta everything?”

David looks up at Joe and grins. “Well, someone has to.”

When they kiss again, David finds it easy to block out the whooping and whistles of the men behind him. For once, everything else is easy to ignore.

#webgott #david webster #joseph liebgott #my writing #Anonymous

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punk-in-docs · 7 years

Text

Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth, Chapter 6

TITLE: Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth.

 CHAPTER NO: Chapter Six

SYNOPSIS: Tom Hiddleston AU Love story - Set in the Victorian Era... Circa 1858 to be precise...

AUTHOR:@punk-in-docs

AO3 LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4108306?view_full_work=true

In a breakfast room across town, at a later time, in fact, just a fair few streets away from Montague Street, on Bloomsbury Way, sat what was, very evidently, a Bachelor’s lodging’s.

Sir Benedict Carlton’s pristinely white marbled townhouse stood proudly among a row of others that lined the pavements. Similarly to the Farrow Household, the breakfast room was occupied, except in this residence, it was occupied by a singular person.

That person was Sir Thomas Kenworthy.

Who sat alone at the large dining table, a pot of still steeping tea in front of him, as he penned his correspondence to Iris. He liked to keep her abreast of his activities in town, and was just scratching across the paper with a fountain pen, that he had quite possibly found a woman who would serve splendidly as the Duchess of Chatsworth.

Usually, it would have been considered strange for a brother to confess such a personal thing to his sister, but after the death of her husband, and Thomas leaping into the picture to support Iris, Judith and Edith, He and Iris had become very close indeed.

Iris bore looks much alike that of her brother, the same milk skinned complexion, with skin that looked like it had been crafted from a chunk of marble.

Except hers had all the splendour and supple beauty that a radiant woman of her 30’s had about her. Whereas Thomas was simply remarked to be ethereal looking, something which he always found rather far fetched, himself. Iris also had a set of eyes that closely mirrored the own brilliance of his, except hers reminded him of a bolt of lightning, her cerulean orbs mingled with a striking silver grey to them. Which her abundant and thick waves of Raven’s black hair made stand out all the more on her pale, gently shaped, face.

She had softly sloped cheekbones like that of her brothers sharp ones, and a fuller set of heart shaped lips which Thomas would try his best to make smile, to take away the misery that oft lingered in her generous eyes because of the tradgedy of loosing her beloved husband, John Nathaniel Thatcher in the war.

Thomas always supposed he felt guilty for such a thing, he had fought and battled his way through more than the russian enemy and still limped home to tell the tale, John however, had not. He had suffered graver injuries that sought not to heal, and a fever claimed his life shortly after. Thomas felt rotten when he heard the news.

John was only stationed a mere mile away from his own camp, he should have made sure he was properly attended to before he returned home. Iris had watched the two men she loved most in the world, uniformed and dressed, dissapear down Chatsworth drive to go to war, and what came back through it, was her brother and a mere letter that confirmed her very worst nightmare...

Thomas had tortured himself for months after for not helping save John. Iris mourned, but showed her brother that the blame could not be laid on him. If he wanted to be mad at anything, then the Russian army would be a more wise venture. And the bond that drew them close thereafter had remained strong ever since.

Then there was Judith and Edith. Edith was now ten and six years old, and would soon be able to make her way out into society, if she so chose to. Edith was a terribly soothing girl, much like a miniature version of her mother. She had a calm and tender temperament, and was so placid for a girl of her age, that this often caused Thomas to muse to her that she was an old soul, because she was nowhere near as pesky as she ought be compared to other ten and six aged debutantes he had the awful task of being introudced too.

She too, had the same lily white skin, silky, coal hued, thick hair. Except Edith’s eyes were like her fathers, almond shaped ash grey eyes which sparkled with such wisdom that reached beyond her years. She also had a willowy, yet substantial flare to her body shape, again, mirroring that of his sister’s. But her second child, Judith, was quite the veritable little surprise of the family.

She had been born with a headful of bouncy buttery blond curls. Which nobody knew where she had got them from. John, had a headful of plain brown hair, and it certainly hadn’t come from Thomas or Iris’s jet black colouring. But, everyone adored Judith, being only just five, had not quite grasped reality yet...

Nor, Thomas noted, had she learnt that one filtered what they spoke out of their mouth before saying it aloud. Alas, Judith had not been gifted with such a feature. But she was extraordinarily amusing, always had a tiny toothless little grin to flash at everyone, who would be enchanted by her cornflower blue eyes that were huge and as captivating as that of a cute little puppy.

Subsequently Thomas could never deny his little poppet anything, because she’d just have to blink those wet blue doe eyes up at him, and his resolve would crumple like a house of cards. Judith was his little ray of sunshine (because of her sun coloured locks) and her chirpy demeanour, and Edith was his duplicate-Iris, as he liked to call her. And Iris was more his best friend than his sister.

His girls, and how he adored each single one of them in spades.

Well, then... there was Great Aunt Ophelia.

She was as mad as a hatter, and then some. She was his and Iris’s grandmothers sister. Some far off mad lineage of Kenworthys, dating back to 1066, or beyond. His relatives, she informed him, had probably been the men and women who were responsible for populating mankind, she had him know. Thomas winced at the thought.

No wonder all the families elderly members, deep in the recesses of senility, were all completely barking mad and eccentric. Mental Illness didn’t just, run, through his family. It galloped through with as much noise as it could muster, glaring with flamboyance at the top of its lungs – with brass knobs and all the whistles and bells on.

Because every great relative he had, was positively, unarguably, batty, like her. She only wore blue the third Wednesday every month, had a pet parrot called Fidget, who could squawk the alphabet, and whom she had also taught to sing indecent limmericks, and kept her husband - great Uncle Percy’s – ashes in an old teapot and she'd delight in the fact that when anyone asked her what was in it. She’d reply in Queen’s english “My Husband. Sir Percival Warren Durrack Ridley Clifford Anthony Thompson Ridgeworthy, the Third. Earl of Salisbury you know….”

Then she would peek into the teapot, by slightly lifting the lid and peering in. muttering under her breath for a moment. Before straightening up, and concluding to the poor soul who she was accosting with her insanity; “..And he doesn’t wish to speak to you.” Before flouncing off, teapot cradled under her arm. Fidget squawking away 'What should we do with the Drunken Sailor' on her shoulder. Presumably tottering away to do something completely barmy. And Sir Thomas daren’t ever ask what.

She was the kind of old biddy who made Thomas clap his hand over his face and sigh most despondently whenever they had guests. She’d always find some derranged way of startling them and declaring how she had absolutely no heed to the fact she had no longer got any of her sensible wits about her – they probably deserted her sometime during the normandy invasion, he would add drily in his head.

Heaven knows how long that old dinosaur aged relative of his had been walking the earth for. Since the Big Bang, he thought. They had had the Earl of Carlise stay for a couple of weeks with them last year, an old family friend, and Ophelia made her usual mischief by putting eight pairs of her false teeth between his bedsheets. The poor man had been frightened half to death as he slid his toes into bed that night. When Thomas had confronted her the following morning at breakfast, angrily so, asking her why. She simply blinked, carried on eating her marmalade toast – laced with crushed up peppermint sweets, and said to him; “That is where they live.” With a tut and a roll of her mad eyes, as if he was the most foolish boy in the world for asking her such ridiculous outlandish questions.

Sir Thomas had said nought in reply, just listened to the sound of Iris tittering behind her napkin the other side of the breakfast table. He had turned, on his heels, and marched right out of the room and straight to his study to down a glass of whiskey.

He shook his mind off his very loopy Great Aunt. As he had been thinking of his family back home, his hand had paused on his second page of letters to Iris. There now sat a substantial blob of ink on what he had been about to write.

He was attempting to capture Elizabeth Farrow in words, to her. To try and do her goddess like beauty justice in words, was no easy thing. He found he had used the word ‘divinity’ so often to describe her sultry looks, that he dare feared he was making it seem redundant now. He sighed and put his pen down, flexing his fingers across his lips.

He was beaming when he even thought of Elizabeth Farrow. Her luscious smile, her lovely eyes. Her wonderful hips and the red hair that he wanted to twine his fingers into. She made him feel blissful, and not any other woman had ever done that to him.

He hoped she liked the roses he had ventured out early this morning to procure them for her. And it had taken him next to no time to pen down the note. He had always enjoyed reading and writing, and as such often took enjoyment in poetry and penning down a few things from time to time. Not that he’d ever show anyone.

He wondered if she had received the flowers yet? And he beamed. The thought that he had caused her to smile, and the fact that he knew that, was such a terribly fine thing, it made his heart sing with happiness.

He reached for his teacup with a smile, bringing it to his lips and downing a great mouthful. It was hot enough that it made his mouth ache slightly. But that was how he liked it, he couldn’t stand tepid tea.

It was then that he heard an almighty THUD clump to the floorboards above him. Followed by a muffled ‘Aacck’ the deep timbre of the voice quite obviously belonging to his lazy house mate.

It was nearly half past eleven now, it seems his slobbenly friend had elected to grace the world with his presence, and drag his limbs out of bed, at last. Finally having grown bored of the inside of his eyelids, and probably, Thomas thought, as he had stumbled in, blind drunk, and very loudly, at 3 in the morning. That he was most probably of a most delicate and precious hung over disposition this morning, to boot.

Thomas listened as more muffled sounds came from the room above him, as the man probably scrambled about failing at trying to dress himself. Thomas smiled wryly at that, hearing his feet scatter across the floorboards as another loud THUMP echoed down to thomas, and yet another “arrgghhhmmnnnff” of a groan also.

He smiled twice as wide, sipping more of his tea. The idiot was probably trying to manouvre himself into his breeches and clearly, from the noises that were thwacking through the house, the drunken lout wasn’t having much.. THUD-THUD-THUD… ‘Owwwwwwww’ … Luck. With the optimistic task, of trying to put both of his legs the correct way into his trousers, cursing and blundering about his room like a bull in a china shop.

Finally, much to Sir Thomas’s dissapointment. He heard footsteps make their clumsy unsure way down the staircase, thudding gently with each step. Until the shuffling groaning six foot one frame of his friend managed to make it, upright, to the Breakfast room door.

As it was pushed open, the aggrivated and pained body of Sir Benedict Carlton could be seen the other side of the wood. And, Thomas felt like applauding the man, he had managed to sucessfully pull on his breeches, he even had them the right way round. Bravo, Indeed.

On his top half he wore a loose cotton shirt, with his biscuit coloured breeches, and tan braces on, and atop all of such, a red silken long dressing gown. His feet had been left uncommonly bare. My god. Think of the massacre if the twit had attempted his boots...

“Morning.” Benedict mumbled, his voice husky, and miserable, displaying how much agony he was suffering in.

“Thank god, I was worried you wouldn’t make it down the stairs in one piece.” Thomas smiled a wry smile, looking back down to his letters below him on the table. As he tried to refocus on telling Iris just exactly how wonderful Elizabeth was.

But, he feared his words would not do her looks justice. And her beauty was certainly something to behold. She was just… indescribable… And he had dreamt of her, he was certain, last night.

After he got in at the modest time of half past eleven, he had gone straight to bed. Not that he was tired, he had risen that morning at seven, as always.(Something about the military life had stuck with him) But after the events of the evening, he didn't feel tired. Not a bit After he undressed, into his loose cotton shirt and sleeping breeches, led between the crisp cool sheets of his room. One arm behind his head, and despite the fact he was relaying the sound of Elizabeth’s laugh over and over in his head, he doesn’t remember falling asleep… But he definitely dreamt of her. That much he does know.

Sometime in the night, his sleeping form had become quite restless and hungry. And his mind had been filled with the most – sensual – of images. He’d watched these visions as if floating somewhere near his ceiling. But yet, at the same time he had been the mortal form on the bed aswell. And he had not been alone. Or clothed.

He had been naked, and could feel everything. His frame moving over a lithe female form; his hands stroking and squeezing her warm flesh. The delectable tangle of arms and legs, the musky definable scent of two bodies in love – He could see her lips gape open as she moaned, pale bare skin tinged with amber firelight. He could see his hands groping over the fleshy and rounded globes of her thighs. Slipping round to cup her ass. His mouth had been, suckling, most intently on her burgeoning stiff rosy breast. Causing her hands to claw deep into the bedsheets below.

The both of them were moaning and making husky rasps of desire. His shoulders and back, arching and tugging back and forth as he made love to her. it had all been there, hot and vivid in his unconscious mind. And then he had shifted over the woman below, just going the tiniest fraction to the left, probably to kiss at his eager lovers neck. And then she was no longer faceless. First thing he saw was a long coil of curled red hair fold over her shoulder that was suddenly the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life.

She looked like Venus. Aphrodite. A Goddess sunning herself on some rocks off a Grecian isle. And this stand of hair was tickling him, feathering the sensitive skin on his shoulder.

And he saw her. Moaning his name. He saw Miss Elizabeth Farrow.

He’d awakened in the blink of an eye. Sitting bolt upright in bed and gasping from the sheer eroticism of it. It had been the most lurid sensual dream he had ever had.

He had taken deep drawing breaths until his heart calmed in his chest, and the heat that flushed him drowned away. Then he had lain back down onto the pillows, slowly and carefully. As it that would somehow prevent another lusty encounter with her in his head. He had been a tad aroused, by the conjourings of his sinful mind. But had found It no hardship to fall back into a deep dreamless sleep.

Waking up on the dot of six, to rise, bathe and dress. And scurry out of doors to the nearest flower emporium to place a delivery for her. Mostly out of sheer generosity of showing how much he wanted to court her, but also because, remembering his dream, he felt almost as if his body had taken advantage of her.

Nonetheless, he shook the thought away with a blink as Benedict came to the chair closest him, Thomas sat at the head of the table. Benedict just to his left.

“I won’t point out you’re in the seat that traditionally the master of the house takes..” Benedict grumbled. Face resting on elbow as he watched Thomas scribble his correspondence to the lovely Iris in his wide loopy and spidery hand.

“You just did.” Thomas smiled, finishing his words with a flicking flourish.

“Oh.” Benedict frowned. “Did I say that aloud?” He asked, clearly stuck. Whether Benedict was adressing him, or speaking plainly to himself. He couldn’t be sure.

“Evidently, you are feeling a bit, precious, this morning.” Thomas pointed out, smile twitching in amusement, brow raising. Watching as Benedict slumped his angular face into both his hands. His friends voice nothing more than a grumbled throaty warbling sound to his ears that sounded like his head was underwater.

“I’ll answer you when my head stops rotting from the inside out.” Benedict growled lowly. Thomas’s low voice quite grating to his aching head.

Champagne, he cursed, the bloody stuff, was the reason he now felt utterly resistable, head feeling like someone had been far too greatly liberal with a mallet, whacking him upon the head with it like they were trying to tenderize a steak. Ugh. No, even thinking of the notion of food was not a good idea. His stomach rolled in a wave of something that made him feel utterly queasy, and want to heave up his innards.

Whereas usually the ladies man would be jovial, sly and more cunning than that of a slinking fox. But today, alas, he wanted to crawl somewhere dark, quiet and warm and completly free from anything resembling, food, loud noise and the entirety of the female race. So suffering was he, in a matter of fact, that even if a goddess, Aphrodite herself, for instance, even if she swanned into the room, floating on a bloody clamshell, perfectly, delightfully naked, except for a few well-placed flowers, desperately urging and seeking his desire. He’d reward the woman by most probably puking at her feet.

And to top it off, even the tempting mental image of even a nearly naked woman hadn’t excited him one bit. He really was not himself this morning.

“Champagne, again was it?” Thomas asked, asking as to what It was that his friend had ibibed last night, to now owe to his charming state. His answer was a mumble bred with a growl.

“Breakfast?” Thomas asked. “More like luncheon for you.” He added, muttering that sentence under his breath.

Benedict’s stomach lurched. “Are you mentally deficient?” He snarled rhetorically, in acute misery, head thumping down softly onto the surface of the table below him. Resting on his bracketed arms. Stomach squirming in sickened and pained complaint.

“A, No, would suffice.” Thomas smiled.

“Sorry, Darling. I’m not generally in an affectionate temper when my head feels as if a grand piano has fallen on it.” Benedict japed, snapping the words softly.

It was then that Benedict’s delightful and very astute Butler, Perkins, swept into the room noiselessly and with grace and ease that belied his aged look. Every London Butler seemed to have that trait about them. He noticed.

“Anything I can fetch for you sir?” Perkins enquired kindly.

“A very good murderer. Spare me of life quickly and with little pain.” Benedict joked. Face still in his arms.

Perkin’s eyes flickered off to the side, his lips pursing. Silence portraying that he did not understand what was required of him.

“Another pot of tea, if you would be so good, Perkins. I believe Mr Carlton's state is of somewhat delicate, at best.” Thomas explained. Miming tipping a glass back to his lips three times.

The Butler answered with his staple ‘very good, sir’ with a hint that followed sounding like a reproving ‘drunk again, I see Sir’ to Carlton, tone about it.

“Shall I have Mrs Smith make you one of her famed steadying tonics, Sir?” Perkins asked. Benedict groaned, Thomas could see the man heaving. That was his reply.

“My understanding is that was Benedict for ‘No Thankyou’ Just the tea will do nicely, Perkins. I Thankyou.” Thomas smiled.

“He Thinks I drink too much…” Benedict mused correctly when Perkins had swept out of doors and back down to the kitchen, just as silently as he had come.

“You do drink too much.” Thomas chided with a smile.

“I’m a charming rogue. People overlook drunkard ways if you are such a charming rogue as I.”

“Yes, your positively a absolute Siren of a man this morning.” Thomas joked.

“Why do I like you again?” Benedict asked. Swerving his head round to glare at his friend again.

“Battle of Alma, September 20th, 1854, I believe you were present, You know, I only went and shot a man who had been about to put a bullet through you.” Thomas fought back. Wit on top form.

“Oh, that.” Ben waved off jokingly. Swatting his hand in the air.

“How was Lady Heartcliffes ball anyway? Did it serve you well?” Thomas asked. That’s where Benedict had been last night. Where apparantly, he had bathed in a bathtub full of champagne, to have had enough to get him to a level of agony such as the current one he was in now.

“Full of silly idiots. Namely Mama’s and their silly frilly dressed girls. I don’t think there was one there last night who had more than one active braincell among them.” He grumped.

“So, a standard society turnout then?” Thomas asked.

“Quite.” Benedict answered.

“What about you? How was your Dinner?” Benedict asked.

Perkins had returned to the room with a pot of steaming tea, Thomas watched with hilarity, as after Perkins poured the cup and left, Benedict pushed the saucer and cup away across the table as far as his arm would reach. Clearly, his stomach hadn’t the temperament for anything this morning. Friend, foe, tea, woman, food or otherwise. It was most unlike the man, anyway...

“It was. Very. pleasant.” Thomas smiled adamantly, like a handsome rake. Smile wide and proud.

“Dinner with Richard Farrow? Pleasant?” Benedict asked, obviously shocked. “Sir Richard is, I grant him, a very nice man. But was his wife there? Anna, -minty Sharpe or whatever her name is..” He asked.

“Yes, she was present.” Thomas smiled. “She sends her well wishes to you, Mr Carlton. She quite dotes upon you, something wicked.” He smiled, cooing his words at his best friend.

A blind man could have seen the all body shudder that overtook Benedict’s lanky form. Revulsion spreading through him.

That was before his eyes turned into sizzling blue orbs, and his smile curved up into something that told Thomas his thoughts behind it had been most, impure.

“And what of his, breath-takingly lovely, daughter?” Benedict asked. Looking quite sultry and passionately interested. Like the scoundrel that he was.

Thomas grit his jaw. That did it… He had a self obligation to keep to himself aswell if his memory served him correct…

“OW!” Benedict outburst, as Thomas’s hard booted foot met his soft shin. “What the bloody hell that for?” He demanded. “And, Damn, your legs are long…” He gasped, reaching under the table to rub his battered shin.

“I’ll aim for the other leg if you talk about her in that way…” Thomas seethed.

“I thought we’d ascertained that I was to be the precious one, this morning?” Benedict asked, wondering where the mans hostility was coming fro-

He stopped, grinned wolfishly at Sir Thomas, who scowled back at him, and then Ben tilted his head.

“You favour her.” Benedict spoke obviously.

Thomas’s jaw grit together.

“She’s taken dances with you, as I understand it..” He asked, cooly, anger flaring down.

“Several.” Benedict smiled in an all fox manner.

Back was the rascal now. Most inopportunely.

“I preferred you when you were in pain.” Thomas growled.

“She is quite the fine dancer too, lovely slim waist to hold onto. And she always without fail, smells wonderfully like lillies and honey. And has quite the prettiest smile this side of Mayfair. Her wit is excellent too I grant. and those curves of hers… Beautiful red hair too. I’d long to see it unbound, I bet she would look divine, hair fanned out below her, spread out, utterly nake-“

Whatever he had been about to say, was interupted by the way Thomas sharply dug the toe of his boots deep into Benedict’s thigh. Causing the man to screech, rather than lustfully dissect the woman Thomas was now courting. His scream now filled the room instead.

“..JESUS! Kenworthy, bloody cursed bollocking ow! Alright, I desist. She is a fine woman. I’m glad she goes to a good man…” He grumped, rubbing his leg.

They heard rushed footsteps barrell their way through the house, before Perkins poked his head around the door, looking startled. Clutching a large wash jug in his right hand.

“Is something amiss, Sir?” he enquired in shock, having heard Benedict’s cries.

“No. Its quite alright Perkin’s. I’m just being mildly assualted in my own home, But nice to know you value my life to try and come to my defense with the porclain washjug from the spare room.” Benedict smiled, half under the table as he touched his injured leg. Sir Thomas smiling coyly sat near him at head of the table. The pair of them looking like errant, misbehaving schoolboys.

“You are dismissed.” Benedict grinned. Perkins nodded.

“Thankyou, Sir.” He said unsurely, looking at the jug in his white gloved hand before he backed out of the room and shut the door in his wake.

Sir Thomas looked back at his friend with a gritted smile.

“Continue…” Benedict grunted sulkily, furiously patting his hurting thigh. glaring grumpily at his friend.

Everything below his neck had been quite satsifactory and unscathed until just now.

“But, here’s just the thing..” Thomas spoke. Benedict frowned, not cottoning onto his intent.

“She’s also receiving Marcus Burke’s attentions..” Thomas ground out. Angered at even the whiff of the mans name. How he had grabbed and handled Elizabeth like she was piece of dead meat.

Benedict wrinkled his nose in disdain. His eyes clouded with hatred.

“The man’s got worse habits for gambling and drinking than I have. Not to mention seedier taste in company. He’s been through every single stage girl south of Clerkenwell.” Benedict pointed out.

“So most squalid habits indeed, then?…” Sir Thomas smiled in jesting at his friends expense. Bendict jabbed a stern finger in his direction.

“Careful.” He warned.

“Or what?” Thomas smiled.

“You are hardly in a position to fight me for impugning your honour.” He pointed out dryly.

“I’ll get Perkins not to attend you.” He threatened.

“Perkin’s adores me. I don’t get drunk every night, and I am a humble house guest. AND, Mrs Smith would quite feed you to the dogs if she found out how I was being treated.” He spoke with a smile that showed his security in how his housekeeper would punish him.

“Curse you.” Benedict smiled.

“So I understand.” Thomas leered.

“So, the frightful Burke is stealing your young madam out from under you.” Benedict smiled.

“That statement borders on indelicacy.” Thomas pointed out.

“Well. Come now, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about what she’d be like in the marriage bed.” Benedict asked.

Thomas shut his eyes and sighed. Willing away the erotic images from his dream that taunted him behind his eyelids, that confirmed Benedict’s statement.

“Having only met her, and made her acquaintance last evening, I cannot confirm that lewd enquiry.” Thomas glared at his beaming friend.

“So. How best get rid of the Burke..” Bendict thought aloud. Musing.

“You, could.....Let me seduce her aswell, and then Burke will definitely loose interest If I declare my interests in her, between the two of us, we could scare him off. I have quite a repute you know...” He smiled, asking what Thomas thought.

Judging by the fact that the man now looked like he wished to commit manslaughter using his bare hands. That was most obviously a ‘no’

“I’ve no intentions of getting rid of Burke. And you are going nowhere near her.. Or I fear you’ll start drooling at or over her.” Thomas remarked.

Benedict’s smile grew.

“I can’t help it if the woman’s figure is worthy of my ardent appreciations.” Benedict twitched a wry brow at his terse tempered friend.

“What happened to your licentious M.T.T.T.W acronym when it came to innocents?” Thomas asked stiffly.

“I’d bend my rules and ways for a woman such as she.” He ogled. Eyes glittering with sensuality.

“Cad.” Thomas scowled.

“Finest Ladies Cad about town, I think you’ll find.” He added.

“So. How are you going to catch this elusive red haired mare?” Carlton asked.

Thomas smiled. “I am going to do nothing but let Burke show himself up as the soundrel that he is. In the meantime, I am just going to court her, get to know her. But I have a sneaking suspicion I will like what I find. She is quite the loveliest woman I have ever met.” He smiled, looking down to his letters and idly touching a fingertip to twirl his digit on the paper, tracing it over the words on the page.

He had a mushy look dancing across his blue eyes, and a stupid smile adorning his lips.

“Good god, you’re in love with the woman…” Benedict groaned. Finding the notion so wonderfully mundane.

“How dull.” He supposed.

“When, and if, you ever reclaim your soul and heart back from the devil, and do fall in love, Benedict Carlton. You will not come to think of it so poorly.” Thomas brought up.

Benedict made a ‘Pssshhhh’ sound. “Marriage is not for every man. I like having my freedom and wealth, and the riotous disposable affairs and bliss that numerous different women offer me.” He insisted with a sly wink and smile.

“You’ll change your tune when you meet some – poor, unfortunate and, not to mention, deeply unlucky, lass – who you want to marry.” Thomas japed.

“What if she’s already married?…” He grinned. Lifting the teacup he had pushed away earlier to his lips, taking a sip. Thomas sighed.

“You have no gallantry about you whatsoever.” He shook his head.

“I beg to differ…” He whined. “I have enough to know that you will not rest until you wed this woman.” He finalised.

“Now, that….” Thomas supposed, pointing a finger at his rake of a best friend who allowed him to kick his shins in his own home, who would never deny him Perkin’s excellent service. And whom he quite considered to be the most decent friend - despite his repute of dishonesty and bed hopping.

“…Is the first honest and true thing that has crossed your lips all morning.” He smiled.

“No rest for the wicked, eh?” Benedict winked.

Thomas grimaced at his rogue friend. But he was right, he would not stop until Elizabeth Farrow became his Duchess of Chatsworth. His, Miss Elizabeth Kenworthy.

Cross his heart, and hope to die.

#victorian era #historical fiction #historical romance #tom hiddleston #AU #fan fiction #dukes #duchesses #suitors #falling in love #love #original story #benedict cumberbatch

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