#desultory-suggestions
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I understand that you want to be realistic that things may go wrong, but try to remember there is a line between realism and pessimism. “Things could go wrong, so I’ll make a good plan and try my best” will always be better than “Things will probably go badly so I have to assume it will be a disaster.” Don’t dwell on the worst-case scenario.
#desultory-suggestions#des posts#ev posts#suggestion#suggestions#suggestion blog#mental health#mental illness#mental wellness#positivity#posi#posivibes#positive vibes#happy things#happiness#joys#quote#quotes#words#text#spilled ink#poetry#writing#love#love suggestions#loving suggestions#lovecore#platonic love#in love#peoplehood
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Hiiiiiii it's my first time asking, I really love ur genshin works and this may be a very huge request but I've been having a brainrot where Genshin men are in particular manhwa and the reader gets to be the protagonist.
My idea is Xiao as Duke Kedrey from Villainess is a Marionette, cuz he treasure his personal bubble and really is a strong warrior like Raphael.
Maybe Scara as Rezef, it's self explanatory lol
Or Childe as Jeremy Agriche from Roxana. He'll spoil his darling rotten and relationship can be quite toxic but still healthy nonetheless.
Or Kaeya as Heinrey from The Remarried Empress. They're both Casanovas and hot looking❤❤
Or Razor as Nine from Beware of the Villainess.
I know it's too much and you ignore this if you want if it's a bit overwhelming. But if you do, it's okay to not do all of it, I'll be satisfied even just with one. Thank you and have a great day!!!!
❛ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐖𝐀 𝐌𝐋. manhwa au
feat. Xiao, Scara, Childe, Kaeya, Bennett x GN!Reader | wc. 9.1Kaeya
disclaimer. if you haven't read any of these manhwas, don't worry, i won't spoil the story that much anyway. this fic will only be based on the manhwa and I'll try to explain it as the best I can do. and the first few bulleted paragraphs are the overview of the manhwa or the character.
note. this is genius level idea. thank you for requesting, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this prompt and reach 10k words lmao. I never got to write for razor 'cuz I still have to continue reading beware of the villainess but I do have an idea for bennett (my sec fav dps) in this prompt. i might do a part 2 with diluc who knows
cw. psychological, suggestive themes, yandere, childe
main m.list genshin m.list
𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 / 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 as 𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐘 !
Not a single soul in the Empire does not know the fierce infatuation you harbor for the young Duke Alatus of Kedrey Dukedom. From his stunning golden eyes and dark green hair, everywhere he goes demands spotlight.
Ever since you caught the sight of him in one of the balls you were attending, you clung onto him like a leech, always closing the proximity, writing letters, and initiating conversation with him in hopes he'll reciprocate your feelings
Every interaction fills you with contentment and confidence. You're the eldest child of the Emperor, dignified, stunning and kind. Who wouldn't want an Imperial Nobility like you?
However, you've gotten way too engrossed for your undying love for him that you swept away the constant threat looming above you and your title as the Imperial Nobel.
The ballroom shimmers with golden lights, and the air buzzes with the sound of laughter and polite conversation with the soft hum of elegant music relaxing the nerves in the background, setting the perfect backdrop for the prestigious event where the whole Royal Family would be making an appearance.
Most notable Royal Family member to present was Y/N L/N, whom the rumors were circulating about of plausible marriage proposal to a certain Duke, unsurprisingly.
"Alatus!" You maneuvered your way to him, seemingly shameless for calling his name without his title before it.
"Your Highness." He greeted in such a desultory tone that anyone can deduce he's anything but ecstatic to see you.
You've known how distant and cold he acts toward everybody, but you were cursed with such a dense mind to comprehend he doesn't treat you any different; his stiff actions like simple greeting and short response equates how much he craves to stay furtive, contorted expressions and averting gazes are him expressing his displeasure in your presence and he definitely ignores your letters.
And yet you hope you can change his views of you by approaching him because of your burgeoning feelings. It didn't cross your mind how much he values his personal space and kept on insisting your infatuation, unbeknownst how much it irritates him.
"I'm glad you are here. Did you read my letters? I was hoping for your reply since last month but you remained unresponsive. I thought you might have been busy so you forgot to reply." You rambled on and on, you're too close for his liking but out of respect to your title as the Imperial Highness, Alatus stays silent.
One of the attendants offered you a chocolate dessert and you ate without regards, even offering one to the Duke. "I'm not a fan of sweets, Your Highness." He refused, eyes twitching.
"Oh? I apologize for that. It seems— *COUGH*"
For once, one expression painted the Duke's face out of all the times he wears his stoic facade. However, you don't know if you should be glad he's looking at you like that, he looks mortified.
"Imperial Highness! Quick! Fetch the doctor!" A Duchess yelled with clear distraught as she watches you slumped over the floor, coughing blood and alarmingly paling each second.
This incident is quite common amongst nobles.
You were poisoned.
Whoever did such thing never got to register in your brain as the poison intensifies and you doubled over from the scorching pain. Black dots danced in your vision, tempting to lure your eyes to close and pain only pushed you to do so
You barely registered the rushing footsteps of the guards or the nobles screaming before darkness greeted you like an old friend.
The Imperial Palace busied themselves for the recovery of the eldest royal, it even for busier when you were comatose. Security has been tight since then, there were more than necessary numbers of guards stationed outside your room.
Duke Alatus seems neutral with everything, rumors spread among the nobels that he never care for their highness, Y/N.
While it is true that he shows nothing but malice towards your incongruous advances, he does appreciate your efforts of getting closer on a microscopic level and deep down, there's a tinge of concern pricking his numb heart.
Still, his hatred and pride overpowers his concern, he never once visited you, not that visitors are allowed in the Imperial Palace anyway.
He does ask his informants regarding of your health condition. No one can gauge what thoughts running in his mind when he does so much as stare at the informant with a straight face.
And then one day, he received the news of your recovery, that you're finally awake.
You've been awakened by a startling nightmare that rattled your mind awake. For a comatose person in a cool air room, your forehead is sedimented with perspiration and all you can think of is how to escape from your wretched room.
Your maid came in only to react in astonishment to see you sitting up. When she asks how are you faring, you responded neither politely nor dismissively, when the doctor checked your vitals, you didn't throw a tantrum like you always do.
Behind your veil is a person desperate to survive the Imperial Palace before another catastrophic event occurs in the near future. You have to change your ways, it is for your benefit anyway.
The maid was suspicious of your every changing behavior as you were known for beautiful and luxurious nobel who throws jaundiced looks on anyone who do so much as to stare at Alatus.
Speaking of the Duke, you only realize he has no intention of reciprocating your feelings through the maids during your comatose state because there are times you lay there immobilized but your sense of hearing never fails you.
It was a bitter reality, you genuinely feel infatuated to the Duke and want nothing more but to know him better.
Unfortunately, your ways of showing affection is not appreciated to a man who values his dignity and protects his people first.
You chuckled at your stupidity, it was all spelled out for you to decipher but you chose to remain ignorant to the truth and now you got the deserving consequences of your actions. You suffer.
If time permits, you'd like to steer clear with Duke Alatus and seek forgiveness for the time you made him feel like an unworthy man who only attracts potential suitors by his looks and reputation.
He's so much more than that, and hopefully he'll find the right person who can show him love beyond on what you can give him.
For now you want to focus on running away from the Imperial Palace until the storm passes.
Weeks flew by and you've been attending more social balls to tell the whole empire that you've survived the assassination attempt, to convey nothing can hold you down. But to also give you enough time to map your escape in the palace.
It's not an easy task to fly away from the palace with the noble title on your head. Therefore, you would need someone to help you get away legally.
"M-Marriage?" Sputtered the Duke Alatus.
So much for asking for his forgiveness.
"I'm aware it sounds a salacious scheme to tie you down with me and I can only offer you my sincere words that I no longer bear any infatuation toward you, Duke. I've accepted the fact you have no room for romance and moved on. I hope you do the same and accept this contract. It's beneficial for both parties."
Sure it sounds like a scam and Alatus doesn't want to end up like his friend, Zhongli, who gets scam from left and right.
What baffles him is you sitting with such poise and authority that he no longer can see the past you who kept chasing him for answers to your confessions. You've matured. Mature enough to handle a crucial negotiation.
And it raises the question.
What happened?
He only knows you as the Royal Noble who follows him with lovesick eyes. He wasn't informed you could be downright. . . sexy.
"Your face is red, Duke. Is everything alright?"
"Yes." A pragmatic answer coming from a man punching himself on his mind for thinking lewd things about you.
"I'm not expecting a direct answer now, Duke. Take as much time as you need, but be reminded that I also have limited time. If you are not able to give me your answer within a month, I'll exterminate our negotiation and never speak it ever again."
Silence reigned supreme, the Duke's face never betrayed any emotion while you held your head high as you sip your tea. "I hope to hear your answer soon, Duke Alat—"
"I accept."
You blinked comically. "I beg your pardon?"
"I accept your offer."
"W-What? Are you certain?"
He leaned back and crossed his arms. "I am a soldier, everything I do is with certainty. I do not rush nor stall."
Your eyes escaped his scrutinizing gaze and slapped yourself at the back of your mind. Who were you kidding, of course Alatus wouldn't waste time and prefer to give direct answer. Times like this make you realize you don't know him at all and yet you claimed that you love him. Embarrassing.
"I understand. Starting tomorrow we are publicly a couple within 6 months, you help me with my escape and I'll help you in your foreign affairs under the Royal family's name."
You stuck your hand out for him to shake. "I'll be in your care."
"As I am."
Headline: "Royal Highness Y/N L/N and Duke Alatus Kedrey relationship has recently caused rumors to suggest their Highness Y/N has eloped with the Duke."
"This is an overkill." A nervous chuckle rumbled from you.
"I think it's justifiable." Countered the Duke.
"I believe so. What worries me is your take in this."
A frown settled deep in his eyebrows. "Worried?"
You mirrored his expression. "This headline would most likely attract journalists to interview you, possibly even dig your background to quench their thirst for answers." You paused and walked ahead of him in the garden.
"Knowing you don't like anyone to probe into your private life, it worries me to think about the plausible frauds you'll experience." You couldn't see his expression as you sighed.
Unbeknownst to you, his face is crunched up, forming an expression of what you can call it. . . confusion? Your words perplexed him to a whole new degree.
Weeks ago you were throwing yourself at him, you could care less of his feelings and only care for him to love you back, you did unimaginable things that he finds pathetic. You were selfsh, self-centered and other synonymous words.
But now. . .
Alatus sighed, massaging his temples. No use of thinking hard about their change, it could be a facade to let my guard down. As if that would ever happen anyway.
"I am not worthy of your concern, Your Highness. Please be rest assured that mere words won't affect this contract."
"Y/N."
"Pardon?"
"Call me Y/N when we're in public. It'd cause a stir if a couple address each other formally. Would it be alright if I call you by your first name?"
Again, you're being unusually solicitous for him. He was too stunned to speak and you took it as a negative sign.
"Do tell me when you're comfortable enough to let me call—"
"Why are you like this?" He bluntly asked.
You blinked owlishly. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
"Why are you pretending to be nice?"
You inwardly sighed. Of course there's no way he'll fall for your 'nice change' if anything, it made him more suspicious of your behavior. But really, you're showing genuine care for his needs and always try your best to assist him.
"I highly doubt you remember our first meeting, for you it might've been the worst day of your life. For me? It was the opposite."
"What?"
"My father is not as loving and caring for most people would think. Oh no, he's far from those, he's cruel and abusive." Alatus' eyes sharpened at the indication of domestic violence.
"He only saw me as a child who'd bring glory to the Empire, he cares for what value I can impart on behalf of his reputation. I have the beauty after all, but not the brains nor brawns. And he couldn't be satisfied with it." A bitter chuckle came from you.
"When I saw you at the ball, I was mesmerized like most men and women at first glance. You're dignified, strong, insightful and top of that you're undeniably gorgeous. I admire you like the rest of the population because you have everything my father wanted from me. I thought all those qualities were unreachable, and yet you exist. You made me feel inferior and I became insecure of myself. I only have my pretty face, without it I'm nothing but a disposable ornament. Do you know who poisoned me that night?"
He says nothing for a little while. He knew the answer right before you even asked. "Your father." There's a bite in his words.
"Perceptive as always, Duke Alatus." He couldn't match your careless words. If he was perceptive he would've figure out you feel threatened at your own home. He— Archons! He's pissed!
And for what reason? He asked himself.
"I pursued you since then, thinking my father would change the way he treats me if I had you with me, a perfect son-in-law— maybe then he'd look the way I expect a loving father would." Fists clenched, you tightly closed your eyes.
"I was a fool, alright. When he realized you're not interested in me, he deemed me worthless, hence why I was poisoned. He wanted to eliminate a thing that has no value anymore. It took me years to realize that he would never love me. No one would."
You've never experienced love, let alone how to show it properly. Only the Duke Alatus ever made you feel like a human worthy of showing basic manners to you without the influence of your title.
Your first meeting with him left a huge impression. It was at your debutant party, nobles attended and gossips were shared. A night that should've your spotlight, but it felt far from it.
For instance, you constantly felt out of place, as if you don't really belong in the social groups of nobility. Which was richly hypocritical, considering you also had an appetite for attention over individuality. The dichotomy left you uncertain on many occasions and you felt obligated to mask yourself behind a much more "proper" exterior. You can't define what's exactly proper, and so you would always second guess everything you do as feeble as greeting a new face and ask yourself if it's at their satisfactory.
At the end of the night, no one even noticed the star of the night had gone missing amidst their debut celebration. All except one.
Perched on the rim of the fountain, your bare feet submerged in the pool of water.
The cold sensation is strangely comforting, add the cool breeze of the night and you feel oddly at peace. Somehow contradictory to what you've read in romance books that people under stress usually crave the warmth of their partner. Perhaps the absence of love made you hunger for whatever's available for comfort, starving people will eat anything after all.
"Reduced to just sitting around. How absurd."
A frightening shriek escaped your lips, you made a hasty turn as the water splashed as you move. But that soon morphed in relief, the man in front of you impose no danger, if anything you'd feel the safest in his presence.
Duke Alatus is revered as the Hero in his Liyue Empire, the strongest fighter and apparently most handsome man to exist. And boy do those rumors did him any justice.
You've seen him from afar and couldn't help but fall for him at first sight, you wanted to get closer but you were always reminded how worthless you are and that someone like him would never bother batting their eyes to you.
And yet, he's here. In the flesh.
"What are you doing here?" You praised yourself for not stuttering in his presence. He merely shrugged before standing a few meet away from where you're sitting.
"I missed the chance to greet the host a blessed birthday, only to know that they've disappeared. Do you have a habit of playing hide and seek among your peers?" The satirical undertone must've flew over your ear and you looked at him, slightly aghast.
"H-How did you know I wasn't there?"
No one paid attention to you. So why would he?
He sighed, "Didn't you hear me? I was going to greet you but you somehow vanished in your party."
"You searched for me?"
He scoffed, "I'm here, aren't I? What kind of host would leave their debutante party behind?"
"You could've gone with your evening without pleasantries. It wouldn't reflect on your reputation, only mine, so why bother go all through this trouble to find me?" He gave you a blank look, but his eyes blinked in slight disbelief at your query.
"It wasn't trouble finding you, really. . . unless you prefer being alone at the moment, I can leave."
"No! I mean — ehem. . . you can stay." You muttered, an underlying embarrassment was present in your voice.
He perched an eyebrow. "You are an odd one as the rumors say."
It was a turning point to you. Being emotionally repressed and touch starved you are, you wanted more after the first sign of attention from him.
He gave you an ounce of your need to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be worthy of someone's time. It was enough for you to take it as a sign to pursue him.
But you realized a little too late that he would never reciprocate your feelings and the so-called "love" you have for him is the result of years being deprived from any compassion. You've mistaken hunger for love.
"Now you know the reason behind my desperation of escape and the need to change in order to succeed. Truthfully, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing of being considerate and all that. I have to apologize for making such attempts without researching." You made a mental note to visit the library later.
"Anyway, I've said many things today. Let's settle — OMPH!"
A gloved hand wrapped around your wrist and you were pulled backwards, only to softly bumped against a firm chest. "H-Huh? What's the matter, Duke?" You dumbly asked as you tilted your head up to glance at him.
His bangs shrouded whatever expression he has on his face. "You have my permission to call me Alatus, be it in public or private."
"Oh, OK." You're quite baffled what his actions are supposed to convey. Isn't he supposed to dislike physical contact?
"I first saw you as an incompetent noble, a typical royalty who's strength is heavily reliant on outward beauty." Damn, you should add straightforwardness in your compliments for him. "I've seen pretty faces everywhere, yours is nothing special."
"I've heard enough!" You tugged away from his grip, stinging tears threaten to fall. To think your only strength has been trampled on just like that feels like your hope vanishing. Your face is your only gateway to freedom and it—
"Tis why I am amazed to see you acquiring new strengths in your arsenal." E/C eyes found themselves clashing with Alatus' golden hues, there's a glint of emotion you couldn't decipher.
"Your Hi — Y/N, I promise to get you out of this hellhole. Our contract can exceed the 6 month rule for all I care." A blooming emotion spreads in you. He cares enough to finally notice you and your pain, and he's here to help you.
Don't get the wrong idea, self. He's helping me as an ally because he has a good heart. But I know I don't deserve someone so kind and he doesn't deserve someone so broken. I understand our fate is only meant for this; my savior and his misfortune.
You sighed as you remind yourself with that set boundaries. "You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you, Alatus."
"There's nothing to be grateful for. I'm happy to help someone in need, it's more than enough."
You smiled. And his heart skipped a beat.
A pretty face with a genuine bright grin.
You're beautiful when you're being you.
No bitterness. No ill-concealed pain. He has to rethink his words about your ''mediocre'' beauty.
It pisses me off when you sell yourself short with degrading thoughts, you're no mere ornament. You deserve to be loved, Y/N. I admire your strength and determination. You're a lot stronger than I was when I needed the strength to fight, you're someone I aimed to be in my darkest time. So, keep going and don't ever hesitate to call my name for help.
Little did they both know, Y/N was falling out of love while Alatus is falling in.
𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐈!𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 as 𝐑𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 !
Many wise nobles would not dare cross paths with Prince Scaramouche Hill, his temperamental issues and rude behavior garnered him the reputation of a tyrant, but Y/N L/N had never counted themselves among the very wise.
You're the main character in every horror movie that instead of getting away from the first sign of danger, you run towards it because. . . why not? Where's the story if they'd just run away?
Wouldn't you guess it. You accepted his marriage proposal.
Now the question lingers: WHY?!
"Now, now. . . There is no need for such hasty decisions, for if such marriage were to be cancelled, then so too would the beneficial ties between our families. Is this what you truly want? A marriage for political convenience is what is being sought here, not love."
His ingenious words has been embedded in your mind ever since you avidly rejected the marriage proposal from the Empress herself. Making it much more difficult to retire on grounds of a healthy rejection was a rather callous way of dealing with part of the problem when the Prince himself outrightly called you out.
From the get-go, he was a walking red flag blessed with bewitching charms that you have fallen victim to. You've heard the rumors, he's anything but a saint, his looks might say otherwise but you've acquainted with his ugly side to conclude that your life will be full of thorns once you've wed.
This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. What would it be like to get to know this Prince? Can I make this marriage work?
#icanfixhim
The wedding ceremony went smoothly, vows were pronounced and rings were exchanged. Though the two of you never really said it aloud, you both weren't ready for the. . . "marital duties"
For tonight, the servants prepared the room the newlyweds will share with unimaginable extravagance, there were rose petals littered in a heart shaped in your bed, candles on each of the bedside table and two bottles of what it looks like strong liquor across the room, definitely intended.
You entered the shared room gripping your nightwear and promptly chugging down the liquor at your leisure.
Scaramouche is yet to come in this new room, part of you hoped you'll be too drunk to fulfill the marital duties. But as you look at the window, mirroring your inner turmoil, you know it's pointless.
It’s a moonless night, heavy with the weight of regret, shattered dreams and a long road of loveless marriage.
You clutched the remnants of your sanity and drowned yourself in the bitter solace of liquid courage to feel the emotions you’d been avoiding. If you'll lose everything in one night, might as well be under the influence to numb the feelings away.
The bottle was harshly snatched from your hand. "Do you plan to do this while you are drunk? Is this what they have taught you?" Came from your new husband.
The liquor did the best job to give you the courage to speak up to him, something that you lacked when he snagged your confidence at the lowest as you rejected this marriage.
"Someone has to be educated in the bedroom?" There's a sardonic undertone as you sway your head. "Well, pardon me, Prince. You barged in my home, proposed this bullshit and expect me to be knowledgeable in the art of pleasure in one week?"
You drunkenly stood up and mustered your best glare-that-can-put-you-sixfeet-under. "You. . . I gave you a benefit of a doubt and accepted this marriage thinking you're a subject of those biased rumors, but you absolutely pale in comparison."
This is where you're expecting expletives insults from him, his pride has been put to the test and Scaramouche was not known for his leniency.
In your drunken stupor, only the blur outline of his masculinity shadows your figure. Before you could retort anything else, he had lunged himself to you, specifically towards your lips.
Surprised marred your drunken face, what's more surprising was how gentle he moved his lips with yours, you'd expect him to be rough in intimacy which what greatly contributed to your anxiety but his gentle actions made you think otherwise.
Are we really doing this?
A hand cupped your cheek as if guiding you to tilt your head to the side while yours gripped the bed sheets. His lips traversed the corner of your lips down to your jaw, rendering you speechless as breathy moans escaped.
He must have noticed your reaction and promptly detached himself from you and you can finally breathe.
"I'm only marking you," His voice was incredibly soft, it was like another soul possessed his body, "We both don't want this. . . whether by obligation or not and I won't cross it. At least by marking you, it'll make people think we have done it."
Scaramouche raised your chin slightly and lifted your face towards him. Now both your faces were looking at each other. He was staring deep into your eyes, as if he was looking for your permission.
There's a certain way Scaramouche takes in your appearance — a thorough observation that doesn't miss the smallest detail about you.
What he sees are things he's familiar with. An enticing body and face which speaks of power and a strong will. A sharp mind, which makes him feel he's found an equal in intelligence. Someone who he wouldn't have to manipulate or trick into submission. . . because he knows he could get there with affection and a proper hand. And, perhaps above all, the way you look at him. As he does to you. . . there's a burning desire.
Why does he have to make this difficult for me?
His hands slide over your body in a smooth, slow way which makes your mind go numb. His hands cup you and caress the shape of your form. Your eyes close as his hands take their place in your hair. . . holding it like a trophy.
With the way he was raised by the Empress, Raiden Shogun, it shouldn't come as a surprise that Scaramouche views you as a property to own rather than a living human who possessed feelings.
The taste, the feeling of his lips against your neck, his breath against your neck. It's intoxicating. . . and leaves you gasping for more and your stomach fluttering. You feel his lips trail towards your neck, and just when you thought he'd move up to your lips — he sinks his teeth in just enough to leave a mark without hurting you.
"This should be enough."
As quickly as he left the mark so was his presence in the room as he hastily stood up and left without making so much noise.
The morning after your consummation, you thought he might treat you a little better than before but he seemed to have reversed back to his old self once again. Archons!
When nothing goes his way he'll use you as a ventilation, and you took every jabbing words and flying objects thrown. You never once complained, not when you know his soft side.
Pitied looks and whispers of sympathy were your daily highlights, everyone in the castle knows how badly the Prince has been treating you since the first day. But that's not true, he treated you like a human on your consummation night, he was more than a Prince with temper tantrums.
If only you can understand His Highness, though. Try as you might. . . You just didn't get him. It seemed like he was made up of several personalities that were constantly getting in each other's way.
"Fuck." Scaramouche was now slumped on the floor.
It was one of those days he'd use you as his target of frustration, nothing new. Scaramouche has tendency to temper tantrums. But today, his eyes brimmed with tears.
Scaramouche himself probably wasn't aware of his vulnerability, he would immediately leave your room and do god knows what.
"Your Highness?" Your meek voice was barely comprehensible in his ears, he was visibly trembling with his head tucked in his arms.
"Go away!" Despite his harsh refute, there's an underlying tone of a defeated man. It hurts to see him like this, nobody deserves to experience pain no matter the circumstances of their birth — Scaramouche shouldn't be an exception to this.
"But you're in pain." You frowned deeply and kneeled beside his trembling form, far enough to not trigger his fight or flight instinct.
"I'm always in pain!" He was shouting and mumbling to himself, but it didn't slip past your senses that he was almost whining about his situation, similar to a child crying out for his mother.
"You don't have to be if you let people help you."
"Help me. . .?" He reiterated the words as if it's in foreign language.
A sense of dread flood your senses as you silently gulped, but you remained rooted in your spot beside him.
"Yes, I know you're not used to it, you're probably denying it in your head as I speak. I won't force you to seek help, but know that someone would be willing to help you." Lies, he knew your words were baseless reassurance to make him feel better.
"Yeah, and I treat you well." He sputtered those words with condescending ire and finally look up to you with so much loathsome in his purple eyes. "You're no different than the people who have deceived me."
Your eyebrows shot in surprise. So he had people who took him for granted? It's no wonder he was shaped like this — spiteful and vindictive. It was easier for him like this, to let people hate him than take advantage of whatever's left of him.
"I'm not deceiving you, Your Highness. I'm willing to help you."
"Do you take me as an idiot? Words hold no value or truth behind them." He spat bitterly and a firm scowl marred his expression before he sauntered to the exit.
"Willing?" He scoffed and finally stood up, unraveling his height that was only inch taller than yours. "Don't make me laugh, people like you always have ulterior motives to help."
"I'm not like one of those people. I give you my word for that."
"Your words prove me nothing. Get out of my sight!"
"But this is my room. . ."
His eyes twitched. "This is our room."
"Okay! I'll go!" You surrendered and stumbled your way out of the room without looking back.
Scaramouche wasn't aware when it began, he does know the feeling started off as a small simmer from a pot of heated water. He finds himself beginning to notice every small detail of you.
It began with him noticing the small dimples on your cheek when you smile or laugh with your full heart instead of the prim and proper laugh from etiquette lessons.
He noticed your habits depending on your mood — your hands become restless when anxious, your eyes dart anywhere but his eyes when you're uncomfortable, or the way you bit your lip when feeling awkward.
Is this. . .
Love. Scaramouche hated that word for love is always affiliated with trust which both reeked of vulnerability, and the sort of emotion that the Prince couldn't afford to display — not when all it had ever done in the past was cause him torment. The past, he had felt resentful because the Empress had handed over too much baggage unilaterally to him — his Princely upbringing, the sole heir duties, arranged marriage. Damn it all.
Thereafter, he had acquired unnecessary headaches from his supposed spouse. He had wrongly assumed your character, for after showing you early signs of his apparent animosity, it only fed your burning curiosity.
He was quick to chalk it up as your naivety, you did reject the proposal for the sole purpose of finding true love.
Only fools would expect love from a mere paper contract. If he had any sympathy left he would gladly drown you with it.
But his assumptions got stomped when you displayed regal actions against the nobles who badmouthed you about the marriage. It was expected that negative rumors would spread and most people would merely pretend they're deaf. You, on the other hand, confronted them and stood up for yourself.
You're far from naive, it seems. If not naive, then what's driving you to endure his treatment and keep leeching from him? The question blanketed his mind for weeks.
You, who's ever curious about the Prince and the the said Prince befuddled by your actions. Put it together and it creates subtle transition in your relationship.
He starts letting you engage him in conversations, as silly as they were sometimes. His answers were still brimming with condescension and ire, but somehow you couldn't shake the feeling that they somehow lacked the bite. . . the intention to hurt.
Or maybe you were just too numb to register it. Either way, you're liking the subtle changes in your relationship.
"HEY!" You gasped and bolt right up, trickle of perspiration on your temples. "W-What. . .?"
Scaramouche was beside you, his usual glare plastered on his face, but his hands are drawing circles on your back, soothing your labored breaths.
For every shift, there's the touch of his hand, the sound of his smooth voice that promises to protect you. His eyes follow you even in your shaking — the light reflected in them assuring that they won't disappear.
"Relax, reality is more often terrifying than nightmares."
Very reassuring.
Scaramouche's expression is somber as he regards you in the dark. There's a bit of hesitation before he reaches out to you. . . embracing you, like a blanket being your safe haven from the Boogeymen.
"I'm here, there's no need to fear." He whispered quietly as his grasp adjusts to be gentler against the softness of your skin as you trembled.
This is him. This is Scaramouche Hill.
This is what you were curious and hoping to see from him. No pedantical micromanagement, no cruelty born of mistrust and ill experience. Just Scaramouche, passionate, attentive and content. Kind in his own way, sardonic and inquisitive, not as selfish as everyone assumed. It was such a privilege to see it.
𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 as 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄 !
They say there's a fine line between sanity and madness — Childe Agriche has a foot on both sides. And as the youngest son in the House of Black Agriches, he's the most 'normal' and 'enthusiastic' being you can meet in the manor.
You were a simple commoner who heard the rumors circulating the Black Agriches, if it taught you anything is that Agriches repay kindness with gold and insults with death. Yeah, a family you won't dare to cross with.
Apparently you don't share the same sentiment as your parents as they were too deep of their dept with the Agriche.
But they were spared and in exchange of their mercy, your parents sold you off with them to work in their house. They didn't even bat an eye and shoved you down to your knees.
You felt every kinds of betrayal that exist and snitched on your parents by exposing them of their illegal deeds and what they did to their money that put them in that situation.
Enraged, the head of the Agriche swiftly beheaded them and took you in the manor. It was a relatively quiet mansion, you thought you were going to die in the next few hours but you found yourself suddenly face to face with gleaming mischievous cerulean eyes that seems to enrapture you.
"Who you might be? A new toy for my siblings?" His jovial tone makes you think he's such a harmless creature, which was proven incorrect when he suddenly revealed of wanting you as his pet.
Did he mean slave? Surely he won't potty train you or tell you to sit and roll in front of strangers like a child(e), would he?
"Stand down, Childe. This is Y/N, a new addition of our workers." His father introduced before lighting a cigarette.
He scoffed, "We already have so many workers. Why don't they just become my pet instead?" You had to hold back the broadening of your eyes at this. What on Earth is wrong with these people?
The head of the Agriche merely shrugged as he waves a dismissive hand. "Do what you want." Your heart dropped at the nonchalant response. It'd be better if you get to work in the mansion, not be someone's slave.
An arm was suddenly draped over your shoulders. "Awesome! My name is Childe Agriche, you're now my new pet. So, let me break it down for you; you obey, reward. You disobey, punishment. Simple."
Did I mention he enjoys toying with his victims and making them his pet? Pet, as in putting a collar and chaining you up in the basement? And what was that again? He's supposed to be the most normal?
You're either stuck in a room where he claims to be your cage or following him in around the manor with the collar still on.
At first, you were scared what he might do to you, but it turns out he really honors his words. You obey him and nothing bad will ever happen to you. It really is that simple as he said.
You've heard how other Agriches tend to torture their pets for doing mistakes or even obeying as they're told. You haven't seen the display of power within the Agriches for Childe insists you stay in your cellar room, but the rumors you've heard guaranteed your every caution in meeting new people in the manor, even a maid.
With Childe, however, it doesn't automatically warrant punishment for a simple mistake. He opts to teach you what's right and wrong.
It's unbelievable how patient he is with you, it's more unbelievable to think he's an Agriche with this kind of attitude.
One day, he entered your cell and announced that you'll be living together with him in his room. The collar will have to remain for the sake of your 'safety' as he claimed. Thus, you found yourself laying on a thin satin silk mattress that left no little discomfort.
It didn't seem like he has many tasks to deal within the household, he'd occasionally be away for a few hours before returning bloody murder with crimson stains on his royal clothes.
Driven by a tinge of concern, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking. "What happened? Are you alright?" It was the first time you had seen him what the rumors would potray about him.
His eyebrows furrow in bafflement. "You're. . . asking me if I'm alright?" He asked, almost in disbelief that such question exists.
"Of course! Look at your clothes. How can you expect me not to worry?" Your courageous episode ended when you realized the mistake, you lowered your head. "I apologize. I didn't mean to come out as impudent—"
Your statement was cut short when a cold hand grasped your chin and tilt your head up. Those cerulean eyes never fails to instill the butterflies in your stomach.
"I didn't realize how cute you are until now." His voice dropped a few octaves low it sent shivers in your spine, "Nobody has ever asked about my health, and then there's you — chained up in my bed, concern for me." He chuckled, the type of chuckle that tells you he enjoys a good prey, that he likes how far you will go for him— he's testing you.
Even being concern can get you in trouble?! What's next? I'm getting punished just by breathing?!
"I don't mean no harm." Your demure voice only made him more elated.
"Oh, dear Y/N. Even if you do, there's no way you can land a hit on me," he paused, swiping his tongue out to wet his lower lip. "But fortunately, I'm a masochist myself. I might allow you to bite me if you behave~"
He really is an Agriche.
"Getting back. Are you really OK?" It took every innermost strength in you to divert the topic.
In response, he flashed you a cheeky smile before his hand slowly descended on the base of your neck. Latching his gloved fingers around until he's holding you in a chokehold.
He hasn't done anything, yet your breath hitched.
"You're so small and vulnerable, I can easily snap your neck like this." Proving his point, he added pressure which now made you choke and clasped your hands on his wrist out of reflex. "And yet, you're asking me if I'm OK?"
The pressure on your neck didn't loosen one bit, it feels like he has no intention of actually hurting you, just setting an example of what he can potentially do to you.
You barely can breath, not only because of his hold on your neck, but also the fact he's unbearably close your breaths are mingling as you exhale. You feel like fainting.
"B-Because I don't like seeing you hurt!"
His expression dropped instantaneously. An undecipherable emotion passed his countenance as his strands casted shadow over his blue eyes.
"T-Tartaglia?" Was his alter ego.
He insisted on you calling him by that name.
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why do you care?"
You ask yourself the same question, any sane person wouldn't think twice to care for a cold hearted killer, but any sinner like him wouldn't treat you with such kindness.
"Is such reason needed? I saw you stained with blood, it's natural for me to fret."
". . ."
". . ."
"Aww~" He cooed, finally loosening the hold on your neck.
What an odd reaction. You took a huge inhale and nearly slide down as your knees weakened, but he has his arm around you to keep your equilibrium in balance.
You felt his gloved hand tilting your chin up, his bright blue eyes swirled with emotions you couldn't deduce.
Everything he's doing alerts your senses to run, but your body just craves for more of his touch. Archons above! I'm losing my mind! The way he looks you like a predator — a hungry and sadistic animal, looking to ravage your soul. He's a dangerous, charismatic and highly intelligent man. A twisted fantasy.
"You know what, you'll be my significant other!"
"WHAT?!"
"And you should call me Ajax from now on, too!"
How many names does he have?!
The next thing you know was Childe's entire personality shifting. He freed you from the chains and treats you like a true royalty. Childe innate possessiveness of you increased tenfold after he was exposed to your gentle side.
Overwhelming was the right word for what you felt after a few days of his behavior.
But your "boyfriend" kept insisting in gift giving, it's his primary love language. You mentioned your favorite food? He'll have it on the dining table. You fancy a clothing? Consider the whole shop yours. Someone being an asshole to you? Expect a dried head by your doorstep.
Make no mistake in kidnapping his S/O — he'll rain down all kinds of hell. Sadly (not really) some people just don't heed warnings and accept death so readily.
The temperature in the room seemed to grow colder in cadence with the ice in Childe's gaze. "You mean to tell me, that you are all incompetent to do a simple task of guarding my room where my S/O was? And now they're gone?"
*SPLAT* *THUMP*
One head rolled over
Nobody breathed.
"For every minute you fail to bring the culprit in my playroom equates for a head. If I happen to find them before any of you — don't expect a one way to ticket to hell. I will guarantee to entertain all of you along with the perpetrators."
Childe Agriche loves to play and this was one of his games. Touche! As if he can expect those vacuous idiots to find Y/N.
The door closed with an ominous boom that echoed throughout what sounded like a massive but empty chamber.
Childe knew anger, he was well acquainted with the said red emotion but he had always try to mask it under the pretense of a funny and boisterous man. This time however, he's been uncharacteristically calm and everyone in the manor feels like walking on a tip of a knife.
They wouldn't understand, none of those imbeciles would know what it feels to be with Y/N. He scoffed as he sharpens his arrowhead before placing it in his quiver. There was no time to waste, he wants you back in his arms.
And he did.
With bloodshed, of course.
"GAHHH!"
Childe moved swiftly and gracefully, so much so they had trouble keeping up with him. He came up behind one of the culprits the one that was holding you captive, and broke his neck rather quickly before slashing at another who was nearby.
He quickly ducked, avoiding the enemy coming up from behind, and grabbed his arm, flipping him over, and pinning him down. Suddenly a loud shrill was heard as a bone cracked, and then he moved on the other.
Blood dripped from his fingers, but before a drop could even hit the floor, he’d already struck dead another one, splattering even more blood. One by one the went down, until they’d all been wiped out, annihilated by their supposed prey. They were outmatched by the youngest Agriche.
And by the glint in Childe’s cerulean eyes, he was clearly enjoying the thrill of the kill. The Agriche barely even broke a sweat, his breathing remaining even despite the number of men he had been fighting against him.
Against the occluded moon, he stalked towards your unconscious form and lifted you bridal style, Childe looked more like a predator than a lover, a hunt ending with the prey pinned and helpless. The smell of death permeated the frigid air. Only corpses lay around him.
Holding the unconscious Y/N in his arms, his expression did not once flinch. It was as if he was only holding a feather. Amidst the night, his figure glided on the ground agile and light, before finally disappearing behind the shadows of the nearby trees. . .
You woke up a little disgruntled and already felt the pain in your head flaring as soon as you forced yourself awake. So much for being Childe's S/O, it comes with a free package of his enemies hunting you down.
"Y/N, you're awake." You heard an unusually soft voice beside you as you felt the bed shifts in weight followed by a bone crushing hug from your-supposed-lover.
Pain flared in your abdomen and you had to bite back a grimace. "I swear you're not leaving my sight ever again." His breath is like the scent of night-blooming jasmine on the breeze: soft and soothing, yet sweet and enticing, effectively distracting you from the pain.
If you only you had witnessed the bloodshed you would think twice than to fall for his honeyed words.
"Y-You have blood on your clothes. . ." The indication of your query made him smirked. "It's my trophy."
You decided not to probe any further. In his language, that meant another massacre to stain his clothes and it only means whoever abducted you reached the other side as such a young age.
"Thank you for saving me. . ."
His eyes softened as he chuckled. "You're thanking the same man who shed blood for you?"
"I'm thanking the man who cares enough about me." You refuted.
You were too absorbed in hugging him back that you failed to notice the eerie smile on his lips. His next words were spoken next to your ear, laced with obvious unhinged obsession over you.
"Right, I'm the only one who would save you in face of danger and care for your well-being. No other people can do as much as I can for you, so stay with me forever, Y/N."
Was it your imagination or did you just see a psychotic grin?
𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 as 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐙𝐋𝐎 !
How atrocious can your life get when you learned the news of your husband handpicking a concubine for himself, then the said trash woman actually has the guts to call you her in-law just because you have the same husband.
Now, you pride yourself for being patient, courageous and intelligent. You wouldn't have ruled an empire if it wasn't for your educated upbringing. But even a ruler like you can feel overwhelmed and burned out, and would find a temporary solace to cry your heart out.
The fact your husband picking his concubine is not the issue inconveniencing you the most. It was his and that man-stealer attitude is what suffocated you the most.
Outrageous to see the trash playing the victim card and shedding fat crocodile tears just to earn your husband's favor. Audacious to think of herself as the same level as you when she doesn't even know basic etiquette rules and the difference between a garbage and herself. Humiliating on how he made you a fool on many occasions and sided with his mistress while everyone whispered on how the Emperor favored his concubine over his own S/O.
And he dare say you're not allowed to have an affair?
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
Which lead you in a secluded forest to vent out your feelings and temporarily get away from all that's happening in the palace. You're perched beside a rock while your head is tucked in your crossed arms, burying your head, silently weeping in the depths of the green environment.
*FLAP* *FLAP* *FLAP*
You reluctantly raise your head to investigate the noise, of course you knew it was some type of bird, but you were curious what type of bird it was as you rarely get to visit nature. You'd appreciate a little company even if it's from an avian creature.
Majestic, charming, jaw dropping, and everything synonymous to the word beautiful can be attached to this mystical bird.
What caught your attention the most was its beautiful midnight blue and cerulean ombre feathers, you've never seen such bird in the books you've read let alone see one in real life. Next was its body that's bigger than your head and a wingspan that's almost in par with the length of your arms spread open. And lastly, the note tied to its leg.
"How beautiful. Will you allow me to touch you?" You didn't even notice yourself nearing the bird. A slight hesitance made you flinched when the bird nailed its bright eyes on you. Even the eyes resembled the finest jewel in your kingdom.
You retracted your hand under the assumption you had scared the bird. However, the surprise entered your face when the bird flapped its wings and perched on your suspended hand in the air. It looks like it doesn't sense you as a threat. That's a good start.
Admiring nature's blessing, you caught the note tied to its legs which made you think if this bird is a pet of some noble. "Hmm, are you lost? Based on your looks, you don't look like a wild animal that happened to stumble upon this forest by accident."
You took the note from its feet and read the content;
"I am a guest from abroad who will soon arrive at the new year's ceremony, and I write this note while drunk."
An amused chuckle left your lips as you look back at the bird who's tilting its head in curiosity of your reaction. "I'm sorry, your master sounds like an interesting person and a pain in the back. I feel bad you lost your way here. Hmm. . . should I write back?"
It wasn't even a question, you hastily fish out your pocket pen and wrote a sassy reply at the back of the piece of parchment. Hopefully it doesn't offend the owner of the bird.
You tied the note once again the rubbed its head one last time. "Off you go, little one. Deliver my message to your drunk master and fly your way back home safely."
The bird spreads its wings before taking flight.
You sighed once you lost sight of the avian creature.
Suddenly, you were harshly reminded of your duties and the circumstances you're currently in. As much as possible you don't really want to deal with another mistress-related issues within the palace and have your husband pin the blame on you. Crestfallen, you made your way back to the palace.
What you didn't know was the pair of jewel-like eyes following your movement from one of the tallest trees.
"What an interesting person." A man chuckled as he held up the note that was recently tied to his leg.
It was none other than the blue avian creature that has assumed the image of a man possessing a tanned complexion and navy-blue hair with streaks of lighter blue, accompanied by a waist-length lock of hair that's being held by a low ponytail.
As he reads the content of your message, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by what had occurred prior to you noticing his presence. Why were you crying? Crying doesn't suit a beautiful person like you, especially a sassy one at that.
"Your bird has found its way to me, if it is able to find its way back, I shall be relived, for it means it must be cleverer than its inarticulate drunk master." Sassy yet regal, indeed.
A lopsided grin adorned his lips. "So it seems I must cleverly find my way back to you if I want to see you again, Your Highness. And I must say, I love a good challenge."
Days have become grueling for you to endure, but you persevered through it all. The mistress has become more comfortable in causing ruckus in the palace just to get the Emperor's attention on her.
You don't really care about all the shenanigans she's planning to pull so long as it doesn't interfere in your line of work as a wise ruler.
Then one day, the similar bird you found in the forest came flying at your balcony and kept scratching the glass pane to get your attention.
You gasped once you realized who it was. "It's you again. How are you so good in finding me?" And it seems as though it has a new note attached to its leg.
"I'd like to think I'm a bit more intelligent than a bird. I've now woken up from my drunken stupor."
You giggled at the person's confidence. "Lumine, get me a pen and paper, will you?" You addressed to your attendant standing by the doorway.
"It seems as if you haven't woken up completely. What is the bird's name?"
Lumine, your attendant, commented at the ardor look on your face. "It's fun for you too, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
"A bit. . .?" You coyly replied, this little interaction with the bird and its master is the highlight of your day. Not even the whole mistress thing can be bothered right now.
As if challenging your thoughts, your husband walked in after you just sent away the bird with the letter of yours.
The conversation was tad too accusing, saying you're spreading rumors about the mistress to drag her down. Ha! Even if the rumors were false, it speaks volume.
You left the palace once again, to your safe haven.
It seems as though it's going to be your hobby to seclude yourself when no one's watching and let the nature be a witness of your depressive moments.
*FLAP* *FLAP* *FLAP*
Hearing the familiar flapping, you subconsciously stretched out your arm for the bird to land.
"It's you again!"
And a new note.
"Is such thing needed? You may name it, if you'd like."
"What an indifferent master." You sighed at the response and gaze at the bird. "A kind, intelligent bird like you deserves a name which befits your character. So your name shall be. . ."
"Queen."
Unbeknownst to you, the bird bristled at the name.
"Thank you for coming to see me, Queen. I'm in good spirits now, thanks to you." You embraced the bird and pecked its beak. "I hope you will come visit me again."
The bird flew toward the inky sky. Anyone wouldn't be able to tell the slight blush coating his head.
He landed a few hectares from your and transformed back to his naked human form.
"Archons above. How could they name a man, "Queen"?" He rubbed his dark blue hair. Seemingly sheepish for being mistaken as a girl.
"What was that?" A new voice spoke.
It belonged to the red bird perched on the branches.
"You said you'd go survey the premises. Did you take another detour again?" The miffed tone is impossible to miss. He flew down and morphed to a man with luscious crimson hair that cascades down to his waist and sharp tantalizing red eyes.
"No, of course not. I went to reconnoiter the Imperial Palace."
"Did you really?"
"You don't believe me, brother?"
He gave his brother a sharp glare. "You haven't given me enough reason to. But do remember your position and responsibility, especially in this foreign country."
"I get it. Don't have to nag me, Diluc."
Kaeya Laszlo, first in line to the throne of the Khaenri'ah Kingdom. The center of many rumors, such as those which describe his great cruelty or great beauty.
A few of those say he's a Casanova, and that he associates with dangerous pirates hence why he hasn't met any woman or man of his interest.
And finally, the long awaited New Year's Ceremony came. Noble figures were all invited to celebrate the occasion with your Kingdom as the host.
As for your husband, he's quite busy mingling with his mistress and you were left with your friends.
"Dear god. How shameless is the Emperor to have the face in showing off his. . . unpalatable mistress."
"There is no need for your ire. The law states that the Emperor can take more than one spouse." A tight smile graced your lips.
One of your friends scoffed. "Even it that were the case, a man with a noble heart wouldn't take one more to fulfill his insecurities. You are more than enough and the Emperor does not deserve you."
"Greetings, Your Majesty." An elegant man gracefully interrupted your conversation with your friends.
You turn to look at the man clad in a white-blue knight uniform, specifically more stylish than what you usually on a regular knight at your Kingdom. A Prince, you concluded.
As you shift your apprehensive eyes on him, the little details such accessories and intonation caught your undivided attention.
Silver rings on those long, dexterous fingers, silver necklace around the neck that held his head way too high, silver tongue in that mouth home to all kinds of sins. He was the epitome of being devious; so much so that he could literally walk right off anything by just talking his way out of it.
"I am Kaeya Laszlo, first Prince of the Khaenri'ah Kingdom."
Everyone around you gasped and some almost fainted while you remained level-headed.
"Greetings, Prince Kaeya. I have welcomed you earlier today, but it never crossed my mind to engage a talk to such an esteemed guest of ours."
It's more like I never expected someone like you to approach me. You thought sardonically.
"Do I come off as cold to you, Your Highness? Pardon but that is not my intention, but surely you'll allow me to make worth of your time." He chuckled wistfully, a smirk has overtaken his lips.
Great God. If he endeavoured to make you fall for him as much as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You just couldn't shake off the feeling that you know this man.
Burst of giggles erupted around you while your eyebrow perched. "Cold? You don't strike me as such, if anything, your bold statement has proven me otherwise."
"Oh, and what would be your answer?"
"I—"
"Of course they agree! Please don't mind us and enjoy your evening together, Prince Kaeya!" One glare against dozens of mischievous eyes is like fighting tooth with nail.
"Shall we?" He offered his hand to guide you in his predestined destination. "I sure hope it is worthwhile, Prince Kaeya." You took his hand and my god was his hand the iceberg.
"Call me Kaeya for starters and I shall call you Y/N."
First name basis already?
"Is that a demand?"
"Does it sound like a demand?"
"It certainly does."
"Well, it is up to you to decide whether to oblige or not." He smiled.
God, it's unfair to have the blessings of charm.
"Where are we going?"
The young man beckoned his head to the exit. "Somewhere your husband won't suspect a thing."
"You really do sound like a Casanova."
"Oh dear, don't tell me you believe those hearsay."
You shrugged. "I do not, but you've been anything as what the rumors have described you thus far."
"You made me curious of you."
"How so?"
Arriving at the garden, he glances at the full moon before turning to stare right at you. "Your eyes are beautiful, yet they also look so empty oftentimes. Your movements and the way you speak are very refined and regal, but they can turn cold, or even rude at times. You're a paradox I'd love to solve, Y/N." Kaeya paused, "But I feel like you're a paradox I could never solve, no matter how hard I try."
This stare off could go on forever, if Kaeya had his way. The tension is obvious, but the air between you both is too tempting — too addicting to resist.
He doesn't look away. . . not one bit and neither do you. His eyes are fixed on yours, his breath steady and his pulse strong. A part of him wants you to make a move. . . to show that you feel as strongly for him as he feels for you.
The other part just wants to steal you away and make you his.
Spoiler alert: he did.
𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓 as 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 !
It's old news for aristocratic children get engaged before they could debut. But in your case, you're not merely marrying a boy of your family's choice.
You're marrying the infamous Monstrous Crown Prince Bennett; the child who was rumored to have been cursed to bring misfortune to those around him. Thus, he has lived his entire life in the confinements of his four walls.
Fretful thoughts flooded your mind as your carriage neared his mansion. Imperial children usually stays at the Imperial Palace with the King and Queen, however in Prince Bennett's case, he was segregated to live in another mansion built specifically for him to stay out of the spotlight — or as others should say it, for him to not spread the curse of bad luck.
You don't usually treat people based on senseless rumors, but you do heed the rumors as a guide for you to be cautious. Prince Bennett is by far the most unknown factor you have to deal with despite the rumors surrounding him. What is he like? Is he a snob? Does he really bring bad luck?
Those thoughts have kept you all night that you didn't have time to sleep. Somewhere along the way, you fell in a deep slumber, ignoring the occasional jerk of the carriage as it hits a bump on the road.
Constant whimpering reminding you of a kicked puppy was what woke you up from your blissful beauty rest.
For a moment, you have forgotten what happened before you fell asleep. Through your blurried vision, you noticed the walls and ceiling looking dull with the simple light shades of painting, the bed you're resting felt foreign to the touch, the minimalist approach from the interior design and lack of other furnitures made you think you're in someone's room.
"G-Gah! Yo-You're awake. . ." A meek voice said from beside you, it's easy to mistaken it as a woman's voice if it wasn't for the boyish undertone.
You blinked several times before adjusting your sight. There's a hooded boy at the very far right of your bedside, and from the looks of it, he seemed terrified to even close an inch gap.
"Who are you?" Was million dollar question. The boy visibly bristled. It's quite clear for you that he's not used to social interaction.
"I-I. . . am Bennett." He spoke with a low, soothing tone that was laced with a soft accent. Despite his voice being smooth and even, he stared back at you with unbidden curiosity, one that seemed to peer into your very soul.
"Bennett?! Oh Lord, I greet His Majesty the Crown Prince!" You promptly bowed your head as low as it can get.
"W-Wait, no, please don't do that! I don't deserve your respect and besides, we're equals now, feel free to call me Bennett if you like."
He doesn't deserve respect? What a load of bullcrap does that mean? A frown has settled deeply in the creases of your forehead. This boy is anything but what the rumors have described him.
"Your Hig— Bennett, you could be an outcast or a peasant and I'd still treat you with respect. Don't say you don't deserve decent manners." You're almost fuming at this point.
"But I'm a monster. I don't deserve anything, even you."
Something in the purity of his statement triggered you.
"I bring bad luck to everyone. I could hurt you in the future and I don't want that, I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me."
You could feel the last of your residual resentment fading away, getting replaced by a deep sense of compassion — as well as a healthy dose of curiosity. What would this boy, your future husband, truly be like?
"You're no monster, Bennett. No monster would be concerned for my well-being and selflessly label themselves as such to ward me off." He seemed to perk up at your claim.
"Don't ever call yourself as such. I can't stand it."
"I don't understand, you're the first one to say that to me."
A frown has settled on your brows as you came to stand next to him. "You don't need to for now, I'll show you."
Bennett was none of those rumors. You have concluded that ever since you met him, he has been kind and considerate to your well-being. You have never met someone who would ask which side of the table they're more comfortable to eat with — not until Bennett.
The boy was overwhelming with perfervid compassion and the strong urge to give love, it can feel suffocating at times but that's what made you like him.
There's just this nagging feeling in your gut that he's forced to act like a doting husband due to the fact you're engaged. Is it all an obligation? Or he's simply this passionate?
"Are you not upset at this?" You had asked one night.
"Upset about what?"
"About our arranged marriage."
Bennett may appear jubilant around you but you can't help to think he harbors ill will to this arrangement. "I see no reason why I would." He replied, smiling at you as per usual.
"Why is that?"
He tear his gaze from you before briefly interlocking your hands. So warm and full of passion, you promptly responded to the gesture by drawing circles with your thumb.
"You're the best thing to happen in my life. I can't explain this feeling but I do know I can't be happy without you. Thank you for coming in my life, Y/N."
━━ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. bennett's way too short cuz I ran out of ideas T-T this took wayyyyyy tooooo long, but I'm glad it turned out well. what do you think of this au? I'm planning on making a part 2 for other genshin men, I'm actually starting it already but I still need to finish other prompts.
━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @atsukawolfcat @spyanya @ittosoneandoniwife @a-rose-byanothername @lasignoramybeloved @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @gookimswife
©OTAKUWORKS_2023
#genshin impact#xiao x reader#scaramouche x reader#childe x reader#kaeya x reader#xiao#scaramouche#childe#kaeya alberich#manhwa#the villainess is a marionette#roxana#how to protect the heroine’s older brother#the remarried empress#manhwa x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact angst#xiao angst#manhwa au#webtoon#bennett#bennett x reader#genshin angst#angst
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@desultory-novice this probably got lost in the notification sauce, so here it is again: the 1980s Girl's Cartoon AU!
The Kirby games are fan continuation/fan reboot of Kirby's Starry Tales, itself a spinoff of The Waddles; Kirby made his first appearance in the second episode of the three-parter, Waddle in the Wasteland. The episodes involve Waddle Town suffering a dreadful famine. Bandana Dee leads a small party of Waddle Dees across the Wild Wastes in search of the Mystical Soil that can grow any crop, and withstand any weather; their journey brings them to the oasis-garden of Kirby, keeper of the Soil. After the three-parter's conclusion, Kirby made regular appearances in the show, and gained enough popularity to get his own show.
(Incidentally, Kirby is white here, as my cute little nod to the NA Kirby's Dream Land box art! 😊)
The Waddles made their first appearance in the hour-long TV special, The Meta-Knights in the Cursed Country. On the orders of the Queen of Gibbous (a character made specifically for the show), Sir Meta and his misfit crew seek out the Rainbow Blade in order to cast the Dark Knight down. Sailor Dee knows of the Blade (specifically that it's shattered into seven pieces) and suggests they go to her old home (the eponymous Cursed Country) and ask the Wise Elder Dee for the yellow piece. Sailor's people made sporadic appearances for the remainder of the show's run.
And finally, the show all these other shows spun off from: Adeleine the Magic Painter! The first episode (a two-parter, natch), Paint Me a Problem, has the eponymous Adeleine (wearing regular 80s girl street clothes) worrying about what to make for an upcoming art fair. While on her way to get art supplies, she finds an unusual Paintbrush that sends her to the magical world of Pop Star, besieged by the Wizard of Nightmares. With the aid of some unusual characters, she is able to kill the Wizard in an explosion of colors (you could get away with straight up killing baddies in 80s girl's cartoons as long as it's all sparkly and stuff)!
Every subsequent episode has Adeleine entering the portal picture in her room to take her to a random place on Pop Star, helping whoever needs help and defeating various villains of the week; the iconic look she sports from DL3 onward actually originates from the Super Art Studio Adeleine playset. Sir Meta and his misfit Knights made their first appearance in the 20th episode, Never Meta Knight I Didn't Like.
Side note: Magolor makes sporadic appearances in all of these cartoons as the owner of the traveling carnival, Merry Magoland. His design is more explicitly "wizard kitty cat" here, and has vibes I can only describe as "a mix of carnival barker and used car salesman," so of course he steals the show 😊.
(Of course I had to include Magolor; he is everywhere, and also it would be super funny if this is the exact same Magolor from the games. Think of all the stories he could tell!)
My only problem now is figuring out how everyone else can fit in these cartoons. Maybe you have some ideas?
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December 2023, @desultory-suggestions' partner and kitty having a sweet, soft morning. Honoured that I got to draw this lovely Christmas present!
(If you like my art I’d love to draw for you! For money. ;-)
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On May 29th, 1977, Elvis played the Baltimore Civic Center to an audience of just under 13 000. Like many shows from around this period, the truth has been somewhat obscured by slanted press reviews which have been uncritically rehashed in subsequent biographies. This show has earned some notoriety owing to Elvis leaving the stage for possibly as long as 30 minutes mid-show, leaving poor Charlie Hodge to lead the band through a series of introductions and solos in the face of increasing audience impatience.
Accounts vary as to what followed. One report suggested Elvis returned to the stage and completed the show in a 'desultory fashion', while another reported that 'he came back on like gangbusters'.
Interestingly, the unscheduled intermission didn't even rate a mention in the Baltimore Sun review, which offered the headline 'Presley Has the Old Magic Still', and described the show as 'intelligent and well-paced'.
"...Of course, by this time Elvis is virtually impervious to all criticism. The media have to buy tickets if they want to review him or take his picture, he doesn't need them (The Sun's photographer, who didn't have a ticket, was not allowed in the Civic Center.) He doesn't even have to sing. People come just to see him as they would visit a national monument...To the thousands who cheered him last night, he is a symbol of innocence tinged with just the right combination of sex, show business and country music. They don't know why exactly, but they still love him..."
The performance was preserved in an audience-recorded bootleg, and seems to be a generally solid show. Elvis tried his best to make amends following his absence, taking requests and making a big effort. Had he given the audience an extra 15 or 20 minutes beyond his usual stage time, he might just have got away with it.
(Review transcript thanks to Francesc Lopez at elvisconcerts.com)
#elvis history#elvis presley#elvis in the 70s#rock history#elvis fans#elvis#elvis 1970s#musicians#live music#elvis aaron presley
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A collection of some of my favorite screenshots from Iteration 2 of Atrium from mid 2021 until early 2022.
(Atrium is a LGBTQ+-friendly Minecraft whitelist server with lots of custom datapack content.)
Since my friend Evan (@desultory-suggestions) and I (@crux-f) lived in the sky in Iteration 2, a lot of these screenshots are in one of our custom dimensions, The Meridian.
(The Meridian is a sky dimension I created inspired by the unused sky dimension in Minecraft beta 1.7).
Oh, and some of the others are from one of our Story Event Campaigns, called Journey To The Far Lands.
Atrium is launching Iteration 5 in early February.
#minecraft#atrium iteration 2#minecraft screenshots#minecraft shaders#vanilla minecraft#mineblr#minecraft server#crux's tower#lgbtq community#neurodiversity#atrium minecraft
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Hello there! Are there any fics out there where it's basically just like the daily prophet gossiping about Harry and Draco (lots of full length articles in the story) being an item and it all turns out to be true? I wanna read some stories where they are being harassed by the media and can't stop gossiping about them. Thanks in advance.
Hello! Hmm I don’t know if I’ve read fics with full length articles but they definitely play a part in these fics:
Game On by @pennygalleon (T, 5k)
Draco blows Harry a kiss and the press goes nuts. Harry suggests they use this to their advantage.
Special Edition by Leela (M, 8.4k)
In a bold move striking directly at the heart of us all, Draco Malfoy was caught in the act Saturday evening, attempting to defile Harry Potter in an act so outrageous, so scandalous, that it could only have come from the mind of the darkest of wizards.
The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (E, 8.5k)
In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Bored and annoyed, the two take up tabloid baiting for sport and pleasure.
Rush (For A Gap That Exists) by @sleepstxtic-drarry (M, 42k)
A story of love and loss that grew amidst the most infamous rivalry in Formula One history: the story of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.
Adding this criminally underrated Journalist!AU where Draco’s the one publishing gossip about Harry’s sex life 🤌🏼
Gossip Boys by mypetelephant (E, 24k)
Confiscated Dark objects have been disappearing from the Ministry, and journalist Harry Potter is on the case. Unfortunately, he has to drag along Draco Malfoy, gossip columnist extraordinaire, whose subject of choice is everyone's favorite desultory hero.
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“Lost Ones”
Disclaimer-
You should probably be familiar with the characters and stories that this involves, otherwise it won’t make much sense! This is a completely crazy idea of an interaction between two characters that couldn’t possibly meet, and one of them has never made a real appearance in their game, and the other is a fan character from an AU! This is absolutely not supposed to be canon in either direction, but I noticed the similarities between them, and decided to write something!
You should also probably know the story of Deltarune and some of the deeper lore, specifically about December Holiday! You should also know the Kirby AU ‘Apologies’ by @desultory-novice and (one of) its main character(s), Noir!
Also, this is not how I normally write! This is written like it’s happening in real time, and I usually write everything like it’s happened in the past, as most writers do. This is supposed to be more like the script for a comic, hence why some things are described in detail.
Anyway, enjoy the story!
A gentle breeze rustles the black, empty landscape from somewhere. Over a slow moving white river, two teenaged figures sit on the edge of black plain nothingness, looking down at it. One is a human, dressed plainly, his dark long shirt and long pants and black hair blending in to the land around him, and his long, fluttering orange and yellow scarf is the only thing defining him. His purple eyes are fixed on the moving water. To his left, a monster sits. She looks like a reindeer, with one of her dark brown antlers snapped off halfway on the right. A red baseball cap sits on her long black hair, and her grayish brown fur waves slightly in the breeze. She wears a white tank top with a green hoodie tied around her waist, and red shorts. Her black hooves are almost indistinguishable from the black cliff side over the river. Her green eyes wander over the landscape. Her long red and white striped scarf waves in the soft breeze. Beside her, an orange guitar sits, the strings clearly untuned. Behind both of them, crossed over, are a cracked wooden baseball bat, and a corroded golden sword.
She turns to the boy beside her, grabbing a nearly unnoticeable stone off of the dark ground, and tosses it into the river.
“Do you think anyone is still looking for you?” she asks. The boy laughs drily, and picks up a stone of his own, turning it over in his hands before tossing it in. It skips once, and sinks beneath the white waters.
“I hope not,” he replies. “It’s not like they’ll even find me. I’m gone.” The girl looks upset with him, and tugs on her hat.
“You’re not wholly gone,” she tells him. “If you’re here, you’re still somewhere. It’s not like you’ve died.” The boy sighs.
“But I did. I died twice,” he says, dejected. She shakes her head, looking at him thoughtfully.
“The first time. Think about it,” she urges. “Did you really? What really happened? How could you be here if you died? I didn’t. I just went missing. I’m just lost. And so are you.” The boy thinks on this. Everything goes quiet for a moment, until he speaks again.
“I guess you’re right,” he says. “I guess I’m just lost.” She nods, but he hesitates. “Still, nobody can find me.”
“Someone will. Someone’s looking,” she says. He shakes his head.
“There’s only one person who could,” he replies. “And I doubt she is.” The girl looks at him, her expression determined, and he recoils slightly.
“If she’s anything like mine, she won’t stop,” she tells him, her voice full of determination. “She’s going to find you.” He taps the ground, and looks back. The corroded sword gleams dangerously, even without light shining on it.
“And bring me back how?” he asks, sorrowful. He narrows her eyes at him.
“Hopes,” she says. “Dreams. Wishes.” He laughs, but falters. He looks back at the river, his expression distant and detached.
“Wishes…” he mutters to himself. “There was… a letter. Suggesting that anyone could… I could… wish for something. Using… some strange artifact. But that’s nonsense. Nothing like that could be real. The ability to grant any wish? That’s absurd.” She strums the strings on her guitar, and he looks over at her. She’s staring down the guitar, and quickly looks over at him.
“It might sound crazy,” she says, “but there could be something out there that could bring you back. Someone could reach through life and death and find the in between where all the lost ones go.” He taps his hands together.
“Is that where we are?” he asks. “What we are?” She nods.
“We’re somewhere in between,” she confirms. “And we’re certainly both lost.” He looks down at the river. It slows even more, revealing black water beneath the white froth. He sees his reflection, grayed and hollow, and shivers, despite the warm air.
“How long have you been here?” he asks. She shrugs, and looks over into the water herself. She appears gray as well, but doesn’t flinch at it, instead picking up a rock and dropping it, disrupting the reflections, and causing them to appear normal in the waves.
“I don’t even know how long at this point,” she admits. “Long enough that the town has stopped searching. That my mom has stopped searching.” She looks over at his reflection. “But I know that my sister hasn’t. I’m sure yours hasn’t either.” He rolls his eyes, and she glares at him.
“She’s got people who care for her now,” he says. “She doesn’t even need me.” The girl sighs, shaking her head.
“Trust me, she does,” she tells him. “You’re her older brother. You two are closer than she’ll ever be with anyone else. Especially considering some of the things you’ve told me.” He clenches his fists, tears welling up in his eyes.
“She got her wish already!” he yells. “I saw it, okay?! She has a new family, she’s happy, she doesn’t even need me!” He stands up and moves down the ledge of darkness, sitting down a good distance away from her. She sighs, and picks up her guitar. She looks down into the water again, and takes a deep breath. She begins to play her guitar.
She plays a song she only heard seeping through the darkness. She doesn’t know where it came from, but the melody was simple, and lyrics were powerful. She smiles faintly, despite everything, and strums the song. She quietly starts singing along to the melody, the faint wind carrying her voice across the void.
“When the light is running low, and the shadows start to grow, and the places that you know, seem like fantasy… There’s a light inside your soul, that’s still shining in the cold, with the truth, the promise in our hearts… Don’t forget, I’m with you in the dark.”
He looks up, wiping tears from his eyes. He’s shaking, and looks over at her. She’s smiling as she sets the guitar down, and he looks away, into the endless void.
“With you in the dark,” he says to himself. He looks at the darkness around him, only highlighted by white. He closes his eyes, and gasps, looking at her. She’s looking down the river, skipping stones into it.
“Cold,” he mumbles. “Light still shining in the cold… shadows… in the dark…” He shakes, and stands up, leaning over the edge of the small cliff and stares down into the water. His gray reflection stares back with empty eyes. He glares down at it, and turns away. He looks to the broken weapons. They shine with a menacing aura against the darkness. The sword, melted and covered with holes, faintly pulses with a sickly golden light. He marches up to it, and reaches for it. The blacked areas around the holes seem to swirl, and he brings his hand back, before reaching again.
She looks over her shoulder, her eyes widening. She jumps up and grabs him by the wrist, pulling his hand away and standing him upright.
“What are you doing?!” she screams, her voice concerned. He backs away slightly, his eyes wide with shock. He looks around, and then down at his hand.
“I was… I was…” he trails off. He shakes his head. “What… was I doing?” She shakes her head, and pulls him away.
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t good,” she says. “Touching those… seems like a bad idea.” He looks at her, and down at the cracked bat. It glows with a barely visible silver light.
“Have you ever tried?” he asks, his tone genuine and curious. She looks disappointed, and stares down at the bat.
“Once,” she says quietly. “I picked it up. I thought if I could find a way to break through the dark, I’d be back home. When I touched it, I… remembered the feeling of being grabbed away. Falling into the shadows. Being taken by that presence, everything getting dark, darker, yet darker…” She looks away. “I know it would be much worse if you picked that up. And I bet it’s for the same reason. Cut your way out of the dark.” He looks upset, and tears roll down his face.
“I don’t… want to… remember any of that,” he admits. “It was awful enough once.” They stand in silence, the breeze fading out. They stare at the broken weapons.
“Let’s get going,” she says. He stares into the sword. On the gold, through the empty space, he sees the reflection of a terrible monster, and looks down at himself. He nods, his movements small and reserved.
The two walk away from the river and the damaged weapons, back into the darkness where they had come from. They seem to walk into the shadows endlessly, the dark stretching on and on, like it never ends.
Distantly, voices are heard as they disappear through the darkness. The voices seem to come from the bottom of the river, as if reflected from another world.
“I know she’s alive,” one says, full of passion.
“He’s out there,” another says, full of hope.
“I’ll find you,” they say in unison, determined.
Alright, there we go! Wrote something. Now, here’s some explanation stuff…
I was thinking about how similar Adeleine and Noelle were, when I realized they both have technically non-existent older siblings. Then I started thinking about those two, and came up with a whole spiraling idea, which is this!
Also, December’s nickname is Dess, which is very funny in this context. Also another funny naming thing is that my headcanon last name for Adeleine is “LeFontaine”, which translates to “The Fountain”. So that means Noir would technically be “The Dark Fountain”, so… guess Kris is sealing him away
“What’s that about the wishes?” During the Shiver Star Siblings takeover weekend, I asked what each of them would wish for if they had one single wish! Adeleine’s was to have a real summer again, which, in another ask, she was revealed to have gotten with the beach cutscene in Kirby 64. December doesn’t know that though, so her suggestion was completely harmless in intent
“Why is your design for December gray?” Reindeer are more commonly gray than they are brown, and I want her to stand out from most other designs
Anyway yeah uh I hope you enjoyed reading this crazy thing
#renu writes#long post#fanfic#this fanfic goes in the face of canon#am I really going to fandom tag this?#yeah I guess I am#deltarune#deltarune au#<- kinda sorta#december holiday#kirby#<- if you really squint#oh gosh does apologies have a tag#it doesn’t look like it#kirby au#yeah that’ll do it#crossover au#lost ones au#I suppose
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kirbytober 2023 recap + low rez updates (get your popcorn)
Here's a (somewhat shoddy) graphic with thumbnails of all my Kirbytober artwork this year! It appears I even managed to overcome my coloring (and lining, and rendering) allergy once or twice. Incredible!
Many thanks to @peachsupremeart and @paintpanic for creating their respective 2023 prompt lists, and many thanks to @desultory-novice for composing the combined 2023 prompt list. Please go check out their awesome blogs!
If you want to see the highlights of my Kirbytober drawings, here are some personal favorites, in chronological order:
Day 2 | Day 4 | Day 7 | Day 23 | Day 28
Or, if you're on the lookout for some underground classics, might I suggest these? (They got the least traction during the month.)
Day 5 | Day 11 | Day 15
Not all of my Kirbytober artwork is museum-worthy, but hey, there's something for every day of the October calendar, which I consider to be a win! That being said, I felt pretty burnt out by the end of it. I'll (hopefully) be slowing things down for the rest of the year!
As for what is next, I'm going to try to prioritize stuff from my inbox. I should also mention that I haven't forgotten the comic I asked you folks about not too long ago. It'll be a good while before it's finished, but it's still on the back burner! I think it's a pretty fun one. If you liked any of my Kirbytober comics and want to see a more polished product with all the same nonsense, stay tuned! I even have an exclusive """sneak peek""" to share:
(i take my job here very seriously)
Finally, I owe a big "thank you!" to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented on my posts throughout October. Your compliments and asides always make me smile!
...And, for now, that's all!
#kirby#lrblev art#text post#sketch#kirbtober 2023#kirbytober 2023#kirbytober#kirbtober#i uh. i dont think im gonna tag every character who appears in the recap#feel free to tag your favorite though lol#or yell at me in the tags if i didnt draw them during kirbytober#wait i just realized i didnt do anything with hyness or the mage sisters. man...#good thing i drew the master crown enough times to make up for every single character in the extended kirby universe#ok peace out
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It’s okay if you’re not the version of yourself you always saw in your head. You are a beautiful person whether who you have become was expected or unexpected.
#desultory-suggestions#des posts#ev posts#suggestion#suggestions#suggestion blog#positivity#posi#posivibes#positive vibes#happy things#happiness#joys#mental health#mental illness#mental wellness#love#love suggestions#loving suggestions#lovecore#platonic love#in love#peoplehood#affirmations#reminders#positive afformations#mental health reminder#wellness affirmations#practice affirmations#helpful reminder
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The Greek Interpreter pt 1
I remember this one. Yet again, I remember details, but no solutions. But I might recall more as I read along. I've definitely read this one multiple times and seen the Granada version of it. I will absolutely try not to spoil if I remember anything that gives the ending away.
I actually find it surprising how many times I have read some of these and how the thing I almost always forget is the solution. Weirdly, with Agatha Christie mysteries the who and how is usually the thing that sticks in my mind, apparently with Sherlock Holmes, I remember weird details rather than the relevant stuff.
Anyway, on with the tale:
During my long and intimate acquaintance with Mr Sherlock Holmes I had never heard him refer to his relations, and hardly ever to his own early life. This reticence upon his part had increased the somewhat inhuman effect which he produced upon me, until sometimes I found myself regarding him as an isolated phenomenon, a brain without a heart, as deficient in human sympathy as he was pre-eminent in intelligence.
The first thing I thought was 'Spock', because that post kept going across my dash a little while ago about how many 'surprise' relatives Spock had during TOS. And this whole thing reads very vulcan. I'm going to assume that's because Spock was intentionally or subconsciously based on Sherlock Holmes.
However, here we get the modern and very uncomplimentary image of Sherlock as 'a brain without a heart', which we've seen multiple times to be untrue. I'd say that anyone can fake empathy and kindness, and that a lot of people affect having more of these than they actually feel, that in many ways is part of the social contract. Perhaps I am cynical.
But particularly in the case of Mary Sutherland, where Sherlock threatens her stepfather and appears genuinely angry on her behalf, and on several other occasions where he refers to villains in very scathing and angry terms, we see evidence of feeling that seems genuinely emotional on behalf of someone else. That seems less potentially fake to me than the gentleness. (I'm not saying the gentleness is faked, I'm just saying that there's more of an argument to say that he could/would be faking with that - to put people at ease, to get more information out of them - as opposed to the more negative emotions he declares to himself or to Watson in private which have little purpose other than to vent emotion.)
However, Watson's being a little unfair, here. Also, his reasoning is faulty.
His aversion to women and his disinclination to form new friendships were both typical of his unemotional character, but not more so than his complete suppression of every reference to his own people.
None of this is a sign of someone who doesn't have emotions. These are just signs of a queer introvert with a complicated relationship with their family, Watson. In fact, I'd also suggest that someone who effectively never mentions their family probably has quite strong emotions about that subject. You don't avoid talking about something you don't care about one way or the other.
I get that this is all set up, but I just wanted to say.
...one day, to my very great surprise, he began to talk to me about his brother.
Mycroft time is upon us!
In a bit we're going to get to one of the character descriptions that sticks in my brain the most out of all the things I have ever read. It's Watson's description of Mycroft and Roald Dahl's description of the Twits. Those two haunt me to this day.
...the conversation, which had roamed in a desultory, spasmodic fashion from golf clubs to the causes of the change in the obliquity of the ecliptic, came round at last to the question of atavism and hereditary aptitudes.
I swear I'm not going to quote every paragraph of this part. But this is such a lot of words. 'Obliquity of the ecliptic'? I literally work with words and have a degree in them and I had to look that up.
Wikipedia tells me: 'Obliquity of the ecliptic is the term used by astronomers for the inclination of Earth's equator with respect to the ecliptic, or of Earth's rotation axis to a perpendicular to the ecliptic.'
The ecliptic being the orbital plane of the earth.
So it's the angle between the axis the earth spins around and the circle of the earth's orbit around the sun. Which... has Holmes learnt that the earth revolves around the sun now?
So I guess what Watson is saying is 'we were having a very clever discussion like very clever people'.
But now they've gone onto the classic nature vs nurture debate.
Watson is all for nurture, while Holmes is arguing for nature because... drumroll... of his brother Mycroft!
"My dear Watson," said he, "I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate one's self is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one's own powers. When I say, therefore, that Mycroft has better powers of observation than I, you may take it that I am speaking the exact and literal truth."
Holmes has an excellent sense of self-worth, and I like how this centres the fact that he is realistic about it. He doesn't believe in false modesty, but he is willing to acknowledge some people are better than him even at the things he prides himself on.
"The Diogenes Club is the queerest club in London, and Mycroft one of the queerest men."
Yep. That's Mycroft. This is not the description I was talking about above. But boy, how the evolution of language changes the potential meanings of a text for readers.
"But he has no ambition and no energy. He will not even go out of his way to verify his own solution, and would rather be considered wrong than take the trouble to prove himself right."
Mycroft is also very relatable. He could try to prove himself right, but why bother when his chair is so comfortable and he already knows he's right? There's no point. And he'd have to move, ugh. I actually quite like Mycroft as a character, even in the original stories, and I like that he cares so little about other people's opinions that he doesn't care if they think he's wrong. Mycroft is a hobbit and you cannot convince me otherwise. He sits in his comfy hobbit hole, smokes pipeweed and eats food and people watches, and doesn't want anything to do with adventure, no sir. Why would he want that when there's a comfy chair, a nice pair of slippers and second breakfast about to be served?
Mycroft Holmes was a much larger and stouter man than Sherlock. His body was absolutely corpulent, but his face, though massive, had preserved something of the sharpness of expression which was so remarkable in that of his brother. His eyes, which were of a peculiarly light, watery grey, seemed to always retain that far-away, introspective look which I had only observed in Sherlock's when he was exerting his full powers.
"I am glad to meet you, sir," said he, putting out a broad, fat hand like the flipper of a seal.
Here it is. The description that will stick with me forever: 'like the flipper of a seal'. That's just so... very evocative. And unflattering. All those wet, clammy implications. Also, Watson really wants you to know Mycroft is fat, btw. In case you didn't notice. But yeah, not a flattering description, but not as judgemental as his descriptions of other people. There is a certain respect in this description - until we get to that seal simile. Yeah... the seal thing really gets to me. It makes me shudder a bit every time. It's strange, because I always remember the bit before as being more scathing, but it's actually quite matter of fact, if repetitive. It's the seal thing that really adds a weird edge of mild disgust to the whole thing. And I love seals.
Is there an animated version of Sherlock Holmes where they're all animals and Mycroft is a seal? There should be.
"By the way, Sherlock, I expected to see you round last week, to consult me over that Manor House case. I thought you might be a little out of your depth."
"No, I solved it," said my friend, smiling.
The sibling energy is strong in this whole exchange. Just that competitive little edge they have with each other.
"An old soldier, I perceive," said Sherlock.
"And very recently discharged," remarked the brother.
"Served in India, I see."
"And a non-commissioned officer."
"Royal Artillery, I fancy," said Sherlock.
"And a widower."
"But with a child."
"Children, my dear boy, children."
Just the utter rhythm of this and the clear fact that this is a game they have played with each other for years, both trying to outdo the other, but it all seems quite amicable. It reminds me of playing games in the back of the car with my big brother on long car journeys. He was always better than me at them, but we still had fun.
The Sherlock-Mycroft double act is a well-practised performance. I love it. Then Watson gives them the opportunity to show off their working and they do that as a double act as well.
I think you can absolutely see Mycroft's existence as explaining things about Sherlock - why he enjoys having Watson around to explain things to and show off for. As a child, clearly he was always the one slightly behind his brother and it makes sense that he enjoys having someone impressed by him the same way he was probably impressed by Mycroft as a child.
Absolutely no case in this section. Just Mycroft. And honestly I am fine with that. This scene is iconic.
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[Rebecca] West states that had she been less fortunate she might have continued her education and been seduced into being lady-like and resigned, and this theme that formal education is not at all a good thing for women is one which runs through women's writing through the twentieth century with Virginia Woolf insisting in 1938 that education was so damaging to women that their only choice was to remain outsiders. Mary Ritter Beard, during the 1930s and 1940s, made the same point when she claimed that the education system had been designed by man and was intended to provide a good account of himself and his past, and it was ludicrous to extend this 'privilege' to woman who, the more time she spent being educated would become more familiar with her own deficiencies in men's eyes. Three outstanding, astute and audacious women who have all argued that men's education of women (for men still control education with 97 per cent of the government of education in England and Wales for example residing in male hands, Eileen Byrne, 1978), is a training in womanliness, and is to be avoided. Suggesting that women are discriminated against in men's education is not a new idea but an old one (see Dale Spender, 1982a) as Rebecca West's account testifies.
No doubt many women today could identify with West's position when she came to her understandings of the relationship between the sexes not because of her education but in spite of it. It was outside the system that her ideas were forged and she has many regrets for those who are locked inside the system: 'A girl who goes to an elementary school is taught the same lies that I was in the same atmosphere of sex-subordination,' she writes, 'And she has no leisure in which to stretch herself and find out what she really is. Not for her are the outdoor exercise and long walks that give one fearlessness. Not for her the unchecked desultory reading which is the proper food for every hungry mind. Even if she does not belong to the class where even the babies have to earn their keep,' she states, focusing on the issue of women's work and pay (or absence of it) to which she would return again and again 'she will be busied by housework' (The Clarion, 14 February 1913).
-Dale Spender, There’s Always Been a Women’s Movement This Century
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Ms Annie Supervises, Part I
Tara and Abbie are in Abbie’s bedroom, nude, luxuriating in their privacy - if Abbie’s mom comes home, they’ll hear the garage door open and… well, figure something out.�� So after some heated making out and heavy petting, Tara suggests that they ‘practice’ spanking. Soon Abbie is over her girlfriend’s lap getting her long-neglected bottom turned pink - when right in the middle Ms Annie walks in. abigail falls to the floor and both girls cover themselves with their arms before they realize who it is.
“Continue, my pets,” Ms Annie tells them as she sits on a chair to watch and after a shared glance Tara has her spankee back in position. She’s not an experienced spanker - neither girl is - but it’s not hard to develop an adequate skill level. She covers abigail’s bottom well along with a few desultory smacks to the top of her thighs while saying how naughty abigail is and if she ever catches her being naughty again… generic practice-spanking type of stuff.
A pops up smiling when Tara finishes, first looking at Ms Annie then dropping her eyes, aware of the heightened level of arousal the woman’s presence always brings her - which feels like a betrayal of Tara, though it’s an open issue they’ve all accepted. As Tara takes her position, abigail has two complimentary focuses - wanting to earn her Mistress’s approval and the glorious bottom under her right hand. Despite her perfect breasts and legs, Tara’s firm, muscular bottom remains her best feature.
abigail strokes and squeezes and pats and lifts, taking advantage of the opportunity to enjoy this area of her girlfriend without distractions. she runs a finger up the inside of a chocolate thigh, restraining herself from going further (for now) and plunging her fingers into Tara’s muffin, shifting her weight as she opens her legs to cool her own core. Her left hand brushes Tara’s side boob before she pulls her close and, momentarily locking eyes with Ms Annie, begins to spank.
While short on practical experience, abigail’s literary and video ‘training’ on the niceties of spanking has been vast. she makes her hand as ridged as a paddle to give firm, solid swats that Tara will feel (at least eventually) despite the muscle. she keeps her hand loose and ‘floppy’ to deliver stinging swats in a surprising change of pace. she alternates; she focuses; she invents a scenario - possibly true - that Tara has neglected her studies ‘in pursuit of the carnal vices’, even though abigail knows Tara’s much less susceptible to scolding than she is. All this time she maintains an erotic rhythm to ensure her girlfriend’s enjoyment.
And enjoy it she does. Tara squirms a little - usually under the stingiest of slaps - and rolls her hips, moaning more than protesting. abigail uses a long interval of low, firm swats on Tara’s center to help her along, and the chastised girl purrs in response.
Tara’s bottom is a challenge, and against it abigail’s hand fares poorly, suffering at least as much as its target does. Even so, the committed spanker is rewarded with a tint of visible progress and a hint of Tara reaching her limit.
“Open your legs,” abigail commands, causing Tara to turn and look up at her - even as she complies. Four carefully-moderated slaps sting her soaked, swollen lips. At last, abigail is rewarded with a quick ‘ow!’
Ms Annie smiles.
As abigail goes back to stroking, petting, and massaging, Tara opens her legs wider in invitation. abigail plants a kiss on her lover’s cheek, then presses her own cheek to it, feeling the warmth she’s spanked into it - until Tara’s impatience demands that she provide a reward. Not surprisingly, it was Ms Annie who showed her how to pleasure a woman in this position, over her lap, post-spanking. Tara’s melted-butter vulva swallows abigail’s tightly-paired middle and ring finger effortlessly before the little flutter-kicks take over. It takes barely a moment for abigail to find ‘the spot’ (or, at least, ‘this spot, this time’) and coax it ever closer to climax.
abigail’s motions are nearly automatic and Tara’s responses are purely physical; in her bliss the girl closes her eyes and rides the waves of building pleasure. abigail looks at Ms Annie, who, rather than trying to watch the hidden stimulation, is looking at abigail with an expression the girl can’t read. Rather than wonder, abigail focuses on the feelings returning through her fingers, the bucking hips across her lap, the gorgeous back displayed before her, and the building moans of her girlfriend’s pleasure.
Tara climaxes in several ways; some may be as quick and sudden as a sneeze or carefully coaxed, delayed, and teased to a powerful peak - this one is a short-ish almost grunting, bucking release.
“Mmmm,” she says as she continues to lie across abigail’s lap. Once again, Ms Annie smiles.
Once the girls are again aware of her presence, she calls them over. Standing before her, abigail hears her say ‘Don’t cover your breasts, abigail’ as clearly as if she’d spoken aloud and clasps her hands behind her back to avoid temptation.
“You both did very well, my pets,” their Mistress begins, “Though, tara, I worry that your goals were less ambitious than they might have been.”
abigail looks at Ms Annie, curious, before realizing that, really, the woman is referring to the lack of aftercare Tara has provided. This is a difficult issue because abigail, for myriad reasons, can’t climax without feeling Ms Annie’s presence - so at times Tara’s stimulation can be more frustrating than rewarding! Normally they manage it and abigail receives a great deal of pleasure - short of climax - at her girlfriend’s ‘hands’ (and mouth, and toys), though in this case even that was absent.
Tara, on the other hand, is merely confused. “Do you mean I should have tried harder, Ma’am? Or spanked Abbie harder?”
Ms Annie takes a moment before answering. “I’m saying that perhaps you should have aimed higher.” Seeing that this resolved very little, she explained, “abigail, as you know - and said so yourself - is, in fact, a very naughty girl - not only regularly, but continually, bordering on constantly.
“You need look no further than her thighs for ample evidence of this.”
abigail squirms, knowing this to be true.
“In short - sorry to have not been clear - I expect that abigail benefits much more from a fully disciplinary spanking than an erotic one,” their Mistress concludes. “Isn’t that true, abigail?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” abigail responds, blushing and studying the floor. “Sorry, Ma’am.”
“Do you think you can do something more along those lines, tara?” Ms Annie asks.
“Yes, Ma’am - definitely. Absolutely,” Tara promises. “Right away, Ma’am.”
“And I can assist, as need be,” Ms Annie offers. “Or in any case, consult.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Tara replies.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” abigail echoes nervously. She wants to curtsey, but fears she’ll drip.
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21. most memorable comment/review? ❤️❤️
I've honestly been so lucky with some regular lovely reviewers. It's hard to pick, but one that really made me tear up (in a good way), was this one (sorry it's long, also putting under the cut as it has spoilers for Maybe Tomorrow)
A wonderful conclusion to an outstanding fic.
It is with some trepidation that I have to pay you the compliment that it's obvious you are somewhat outside of what I've come to expect of most fanfiction writers. It is not meant to be insulting, but most of them are just so very young. Contrast that with the absolutely masterful way you have pulled on heartstrings and breathed life into the pages here, and every word shows you to be someone who has genuinely lived.
Your characters are some of the most realistic and intriguing depictions in the HP fandom I have ever seen. The careful picking and choosing of your phrasing and which details are given suggest so much beneath the surface, without falling into the trap of overexplaining everything. Ron as the genuine friend that is allowed to have sadness over his own what ifs without letting it jeopradize his friendship. Andromeda - despite her brief appearance - being characterised through the eyes of others and having the reader's introduction to her be so *right* as the wizened and grandmotherly type that is nonetheless sharp and present.
Finally, the true standout performance, are the children. I am a father to a six year old girl, and I can confidently say that in reading millions of words of fanfiction last year, you are by far the most accurate when it comes to depicting the behaviors and thoughts of children around that age. The raw love, the way their bodies and minds work in good and bad moments, the chaos and attention.
Finally, your descriptions of atmosphere (simply beautiful prose, outstanding command of pacing and balacing exposition and dialoge, not to mention the quality of said dialogue) and the thoughtful angles in the reflections of your characters were superb. The not-quite-dead scene, which I somewhat dreaded as soon as I recognized it (it *is* remarkable how that type of scene just seems to invite terrible writing) was Siriusly wonderful, adding a depth and comfort that feels entirely at home with the relationship this version of Harry would have had with him. The way most dialogues seem to be lifted out of actual conversation rather than two robots reading lines, with all the non sequiturs, banter, and desultory nonsense that actual humans that know each other well base most of their conversations on.
Selfishly, I am somewhat disappointed this is the end of (this part of-) Maybe Tomorrow.
Please accept my warmest wishes for the new year, and sincere gratitude for sharing your work with us. I cannot wait to spend more time in the gardens of your creation.
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heyy :) do u have any recs for good mental health / self care blogs like yours?? <3
I absolutely adore @compassionatereminders, I reblog of a lot stuff from them, but I also like @archive-of-happiness and @desultory-suggestions a lot. If you go back through the where the reblogs I post came from, I'm sure you'll find some more good ones. That's how I got my list that I follow. I also try to follow blogs of the individual creators who created the posts I like, like @lousydrawingsforgoodpeople , they also do good stuff.
Hope that helps! 💕
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I posted 1,831 times in 2022
336 posts created (18%)
1,495 posts reblogged (82%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@spooniestrong
@spooniestrongart
@catmat
@desultory-suggestions
@disabilityhealth
I tagged 1,508 of my posts in 2022
Only 18% of my posts had no tags
#spooniestrong - 1,482 posts
#spoonie - 1,469 posts
#chronic illness - 369 posts
#disability - 344 posts
#chronic pain - 332 posts
#ableism - 112 posts
#disabled - 84 posts
#covid - 62 posts
#self care - 50 posts
#mental health - 44 posts
Longest Tag: 115 characters
#also tbh you could just put a desk fan in front of a bowl of ice which will do about the same thing without the diy
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
2,275 notes - Posted August 18, 2022
#4
3,852 notes - Posted April 24, 2022
#3
3,973 notes - Posted December 7, 2022
#2
4,136 notes - Posted July 17, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
This ABSOLUTELY works.
I have used this for many years. Definitely b do it.
101,653 notes - Posted November 5, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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