#i should go with 18th century style yeah? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rollingsins · 1 year

Text

the drabble files, p2

p1 | p2

summary: Four weeks into their relationship, Tara meets R's parents for the first time. It does not go well.

warnings: Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence mention of sex.

word count: 2.5k.

a/n: flashback fic, set pre-all hers. For those who requested Tara being a little shit to R's parents. Enjoy babes!

Tara has been yours for four weeks.

Four weeks of bliss. Stars behind your eyes when you kiss. Fireworks when you fuck. Four weeks of kissing in school hallways, and shy smiles, and breathy gasps when you let her take what she wants from you.

It’s perfect. It's all you ever wanted.

And it’s time she met your parents.

“Be respectful,” You tell Tara, the night before it happens, “Call him ‘Sir’. And whatever you do, don’t tell him we’re having sex.”

“Call him ‘Sir’?” She asks, nose crinkled, “What is this, 18th century England?”

“Just do it, Tara, please,” You beg, “I want him to like you. He’s an old-fashioned guy, we’re lucky he’s even agreed to meet you at all.”

“Yeah, I feel super lucky right now.” She holds up one of your sundresses. One you’d specifically picked out for her to wear, “I can’t wear this, baby, I’ll look like a choir-girl.”

“That’s what I’m going for.” You say. You lean in and kiss her slow, “Please, honey. If he doesn’t like you, there will be hell to pay. I told you about Aaron.”

Aaron was your first kiss. Behind one of the pews at Sunday school. When your Dad had found out about it, he’d pulled you from the classes and forbid you from ever talking to him again.

Tara looks over at you, stormy-eyed. She hates when you bring up your exes, something you really don’t understand. But it’s sexy, kind of, the way she grips your waist and kisses you hard. Like she’s trying to wipe his name from your lips. She’s possessive, this you already know, but it still makes your stomach flip.

“Tara-” You squeal as she all but tackles you back onto the bed, ripping off your jeans and spreading your legs like you’re hers for the taking, “You need to try on the sundress-”

“I’m sure it fits,” She assures, pressing her lips to your neck, “I’m sure it’s tight. But not as tight as you are.”

The sundress falls to the floor, unruined.

But you, on the other hand? Not so much.

You’re walking a little funny the next day.

Tara hasn’t really been rough before, but she was last night. Marks on your chest, kind of rough. Handprints around your neck, kind of rough. Aching down there, kind of rough.

The kind of rough that makes you eager for your parents to like her. Because if this is what she’s like when she gets jealous, you don’t ever want it to stop.

You wait outside the house, lip between your teeth. Your Mom has cooked up a storm, excited to meet the girl you’ve gushed about for the last four weeks. Your Dad, perhaps unrelated, perhaps not, has been cleaning his shotgun all morning.

It makes you nervous.

Your Mom, she’s easy. One of Tara’s pretty smiles and she’ll be sold. But your Dad? She’ll have to work a little harder.

You watch as Tara’s car pulls up, stand to meet her.

She’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and an old band t-shirt. You, in your Sunday best, gawp at her from the porch.

“What happened to the sundress?” You ask as she moves to kiss you.

She frowns as you retract.

“Not exactly my style, babe.” She says, and then grins, “You want easy access, huh? You’ll have to work a little harder than that.”

Her arms loop around your waist.

You smack her off.

“Stop it. And don’t make jokes like that, my Dad won’t like it.”

Tara withdraws, a little irritated.

“Just behave. Please.” You beg. Tara has a bad-girl aura about her that you’re usually attracted to. But today, you want it to disappear, “Jump through his hoops, make him like you.”

“Why do you care so much about what that guy thinks?” Tara asks, perplexed.

‘Because ‘that guy’ is my Father, Tara.” You say, “Please, baby. Promise.”

Tara sighs.

“I’ll do my best.” Is what she says, and in hindsight, it should have been the first warning sign.

Your mother is all smiles as you bring Tara in.

“Oh, Tara,” She squeals, wrapping your girlfriend up in a hug, “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Your Dad hovers in the hallway, expression blank.

He offers a hand to Tara, who shakes it.

“Tara.” He says.

“Nice to meet you, Sir.” Tara says, on her best behavior. You squeeze her hip.

“Should we eat?” You suggest.

Your Mom has made sweet-corn fritters. She shares it around, nudges a little extra onto Tara’s plate. Under the table, you squeeze her thigh.

She’s doing so good. More mild-mannered than you’ve ever seen her. And then your Dad has to open his mouth.

“So, Tara,” He says, and you can hear the distaste in his voice by her name on his tongue. Tara must hear it too, judging by the way she tenses, slightly, “What are your plans for the future?”

Tara waits a moment.

“Well, I’m going to finish high school,” She says, cutting into her fritter, “And then I’ll go to college, probably. Somewhere east. Maybe Yale, or Harvard.”

Your Mom beams.

Your Dad tuts.

“You have to have pretty good grades to get into Harvard,” He says, eyes narrowed.

Tara smiles.

“I’m a straight-A student, Sir.”

“Confident, too.” Says your Dad. He looks over at you, “It takes more than good grades. And what do you suppose you’ll be doing at Yale or Harvard?”

You’ve known your Dad long enough to know when he’s being patronizing. You shoot him a look.

Interlock your fingers with Tara’s, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“I’m going to study film.” She says, without a beat and your Dad laughs.

Tara blinks.

“Film? You’re going to Harvard to study film?” He says, eyes sparkling, “Well, that’s like going to work at NASA as a janitor.”

“Dad.” You say, voice sharp.

“I’m sorry,” You Dad says, but he’s still laughing. Your Mom looks uncomfortable and Tara’s staring at him like she doesn’t see the joke, “I shouldn't laugh. It’s nice to have dreams.”

You wrap a protective arm around Tara’s waist.

“Tara’s top of her class. In every subject.” You say, “Yale and Harvard, they’ll be fighting over her.”

“I’m sure.” Says your Mother, trying to be supportive, “Film is a very interesting subject, Tara.”

“It is,” Says Tara, relaxing slightly, “I just love movies. I want to make my own.”

“And you’ll be really good at it, babe.” You say, rubbing her back. She smiles back at you.

“Not a very high success rate though, is it?” Your Dad says, “I mean, it’s a very competitive industry.”

“I’m a very competitive person.” Tara says, voice even.

Your Dad leans back in his chair.

“I don’t mean to grill you,” Your Dad says, “It’s just - tortured artist? They’re not known for bringing in much money. And YN’s my baby-girl, I need to know the person spending time with her is good enough for her.”

Your Dad’s smile is light. Fake, almost. But you can tell Tara doesn’t like what he’s just said. Her grip on your hand tightens.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Sir.” She says, pointedly, “Because she’s my baby-girl now. You’re relieved of your duty.”

You Dad blinks. His expression frosts over slightly. Tara’s tone is anything but friendly.

Back off, it screams, she’s mine.

You shift, uncomfortable.

“Why don’t we talk about something else?” You suggest, but neither of them are listening to you.

“She’ll always be my baby.” Says your Dad. He points his fork at her, “You should remember that, Ms Carpenter.”

“And she’s mine now.” Snipes back Tara, “You should remember that, Sir.”

“I think Mom made muffins, why don’t we get them, babe?” You interject, trying to pry Tara to her feet. But she doesn’t budge.

“I don’t care for your tone, young lady.” Says your Dad. He’s sitting up in his seat, glaring. Tara’s look mirrors his.

“Daddy, she doesn’t mean anything by it,” You say hurriedly, “She’s just protective, that’s all.”

You look to your Mother for help.

She reaches over, grabs your Father’s hand.

“Let’s cool it down, a notch, alright honey?” She says, voice pointed. Your Dad watches Tara a moment, then nods, slumping back in his seat. You breathe a sigh of relief, and then flash a look of gratitude over to your Mom.

She smiles back at you.

“Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Tara?” Asks your Mom, perfectly innocently, “What do you like to do? What do you two do together?”

You don’t have to look at Tara to know the expression on her face.

Tara’s hobbies consisted of watching movies, smoking blunts with her friends and fucking you. In reverse order.

“Normal stuff,” You say hurriedly, before she can interject with the truth, “We watch movies. Sometimes Tara watches me play soccer.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” Says your Mom, grin on her face, “I used to watch your father play varsity baseball in college, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your Dad grunts. He’s still staring at Tara, who’s staring right back at him.

“Last girl watched you play soccer too,” He says, voice loaded, “Sarah? Sadie? Whatever her name was. She didn’t last long either.”

Tara’s hand on your thigh tightens so hard you wince.

“Tara’s different to Sadie, Dad.” You say, shooting a reassuring look over to Tara, “Sadie was just a fling. Tara’s my girlfriend.”

“Uh huh.” Your Dad says, unconvinced, “Your girlfriend of less than four weeks.”

“A lot can happen in four weeks,” Tara says, rising to the challenge, “That’s twenty-eight days of kissing and hand-holding and plenty of other things.”

Your Dad sits up in his seat.

“And what exactly are you trying to say?” Your Dad says, his face a little red, “Because if you want to stay kissing my daughter and holding her hand, I’d suggest you mind your manners.”

“Darling,” Says your Mother, looking a little embarrassed, “There’s no need to raise your voice. I’m sure Tara was just suggesting they’ve had plenty of time to fall in love, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

She looks over to Tara, voice almost a plea.

Tara smiles.

“Of course, Sir.” She says, “I just meant YN and I have had time to explore our feelings for each other.”

The sigh you let out matches your Mothers.

You manage to veer the conversation back to chit chat. Your Mother tells Tara what you were like as a kid. She asks about Tara’s family, about her friends. And it seems to work.

Your Father falls silent, pushing his food around his plate.

Tara charms the pants off your mother, you watch, a little proud, squeezing her hand and trying your very best to to reach over and kiss her in front of your parents.

It’s going well, finally.

And then your Mother moves to go get the dessert and everything falls apart.

Your Dad is the first to speak. He leans over the table, his eyes narrowed. Looking straight at Tara.

“You’re a real womanizer, you know.” He says, voice sharp. Tara stares. You blink.

“You’ve got my wife hanging onto every word. You’ve got my daughter hanging off you like she’s a three dollar whore and you’re her gang-banger pimp-”

“Dad-”

“But I want you to know that I see right through you. My daughter does not belong to you.”

Tara’s quiet a moment.

But your Dad doesn’t stop his assault.

“I don’t like you.” He continues, “I think you’re rude and disrespectful and obnoxious and I don’t know what my daughter sees in you.”

“Daddy.” You gasp.

But he doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at Tara. She swallows, and then leans forward.

“And I think you’re a stuffy old asshole who needs to realize his daughter is her own person. She doesn’t belong to you either.” Tara says, leaning in. Her voice is quiet. Calculated.

You want to ground to swallow you whole.

Your Father leans back in his chair, infuriated. He looks at you, points one of his pudgy fingers at Tara.

“You’re not to see her anymore. At school, at soccer practice. Anywhere. And if I catch her within five feet of you, I’ll make good use of my new twelve gauge shotgun.” He's so angry, his voice shakes.

“You can’t ban me from seeing Tara,” You hiss across the table, “I love her, daddy, I won’t break up with her.”

“As long as you’re under my roof, you’ll do what I say.” Says you Dad, slamming his fist down on the table. His face is purple. You’ve not seen him like this since that night after Sunday school. After Aaron.

Tara grips your hand.

“Don’t worry,” Tara sneers, “I have no desire to ever step foot in this house again.”

She leans in.

“But that won’t stop me from going knuckle deep in your daughter yesterday, and today, and the day after-”

“Tara!” You hiss.

Your Dad stands, slamming his cutlery to the table in outrage.

“How dare you-” He hisses.

“Who wants a Blueberry muffin?” Your Mom makes her entrance, wide smile on her face. It falters as she sees the scene in front of her.

“I want that girl out of my house, now.” Says your Father, hands balled in fists, “YN, go to your room. You’re grounded.”

“For what?”

“Where do I start?” Says your Father, eyes flashing, “Maybe the underage sex? The lies? The disrespect?”

“The sex?” Says your mother, looking at you, crestfallen.

“I’m sixteen, Dad, I’m old enough to have sex.” You say helplessly, tears falling thick and fast from your eyes.

“Darling-” Says your Mother, but your Father holds up his hand.

“Over my dead body will you copulate with a Carpenter,” He says, eyes narrow, “They’re no good, everyone says it. Deadbeat father. Alcoholic mother. Drug addict of a sister. So what does that make her?”

“You want to find out?” Asks Tara. She’s up in a flash. Her eyes are wide, angry. She’s dropped your hand, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s about to throw herself across the table and launch herself at your Father.

“Out!” Thunders your Father.

You tug at Tara’s hand.

“If she’s going, I’m going.” You say, tears in your eyes, and lead her through the hallway, ignoring the spiel of expletives your Father spews at you.

You’re out the door before he can grab you.

You’re climbing into the passenger car when you see him running out of the house, red-faced, shotgun in hand. Tara presses her foot to the gas and speeds out of there before he can so much as point it at her.

Your eyes blur with tears. Tara’s hand grips your thigh.

Before you know it, you’re at her house. She’s tugging your seatbelt off and all but carrying you into the house.

“I’m sorry.” She says, and she does look like she means it. Brown eyes wide, full of sorrow. Like she hadn’t wanted it to go this way, “I should have worn the sundress.”

You nuzzle into her chest.

“It’s not your fault,” You say, “He can be such an asshole, sometimes.”

She presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Guess you’re banned from seeing me, now.” She says.

You tilt your head up and kiss her, fiercely.

“I love you,” You assure, “My asshole Dad can cry and scream all he wants, but he’ll never keep me away from you.”

At this, she smiles.

“Promise?” She asks, her dark eyes a little doubtful.

You kiss her again.

“Promise.”

#the drabble files #all hers #ghostface!tara #fanfic #mine #tara carpenter #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you

593 notes · View notes

howtofightwrite · 2 years

Note

Sorry if this has been answered before. Would it be possible to have a character who learns how to use a sword skillfully in less than a few years (if taught by an expert)? If not, what are some alternatives for a protagonist who needs to learn swordfighting for plot reasons?

Yes, but...

So, this is a little harder to answer than it initially sounds, because there's a few extra things to consider.

I'm going to spitball this, but I suspect you could get someone up to speed with a sword in a few months, probably less than that, depending on how much time they spent training, and how seriously they committed to it.

The issue is, combat training isn't (usually) about getting to baseline proficiency, it's about being more effective than your opponent. So, if your character spent a couple years learning to fight with a sword, and they're taking on soldiers or other characters who didn't spent that much time training, or learning, they'll probably have an advantage. If they're training to go after an enemy swordmaster who spent decades matching wits and blades with their expert mentor, their skills not going to be sufficient. (Though, to be fair, if someone spent most of those two years in intense training, their skills would be pretty formidable.)

One exception here is that soldiers are often trained to proficiency, and nothing further. It doesn't mean they're not dangerous, and their ability to work together can quickly turn them into an insurmountable threat for your character, but, you're not going to be finding a lot of swordmasters mixed in with the rank and file infantry, even if they've spent longer training.

Combat experience is (generally) more valuable than training. So, if your character's been practicing to use their skills, but never been in a real fight, that's going to hamper them. Now, it's likely that their mentor would be fully aware of that, and those years of training should probably include some practical experience of some variety.

It's also likely that if your characters is engaged in intense training for that long, there may be other skills getting mixed in, to give them a better combat base. It's hard to say exactly what those skills would be, though depending on the setting it may include things like armor, or the use of alternative weapons such as daggers and cloaks. (I realize, we haven't talked about this in a moment, but a heavy cloak can be an extremely effective parrying tool when dueling, particularly against light blades like the epee or rapier. Once the blade is wrapped in a heavy fabric or leather, it can take a bit of effort to get it free again. It's not a huge detriment, but it will leave the sword's owner without the use of their weapon for a few critical moments, which is the perfect time to end them.)

Of course, if you're training a Zorro style pseudo-superhero, then things like acrobatics and (anachronistic) parkour are also options.

Depending on the era you're going for (particularly 17th and 18th century) do not overlook the effectiveness of opening a fight by pumping a musket ball into your opponent. Early, smooth-bore, pistols weren't particularly accurate at range, and were downright anemic in comparison to modern bullets, but it will still seriously mess up an unarmored fighter. Similarly, in a situation like that, your character would have to be pretty careful about not getting shot. It certainly doesn't invalidate the sword (that would come later with repeating firearms), but it will make their life a lot more perilous. (Read: interesting.)

So, could someone take a couple years to train with a sword? Yeah, absolutely, and if they committed to it, and had a good instructor, they could come out the other side of that with some fairly significant skills, and as a legitimate threat.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get early access to new posts, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#how to fight write #Starke answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips

814 notes · View notes

novel-nook-blog · 5 days

Text

Project A.N.

Project "The Angels of Night" is the novel I'm currently writing (unfortunately not in English). I might start by discussing my choice of language for my novel.

It took me a long time to decide which language I'd like to use. Nowadays, I mostly read in English and very little in my mother tongue. There is a side of me that would love to write this story in English. But the biggest problem is the topic it's about, and I struggle with it in my native language, so I figured it would be very difficult and complicated to write it in a language that I wasn't "born" with (not that babies are born with a certain language, haha, but you know what I mean).

So what is my project about? Well, it's a fantasy novel with a dash of romance. I, myself, am a romantasy reader, I love it to bits. So it was natural for me to write in this style. The story is set in a world inhabited by angels. It focuses on two main clans of angels: the Angels of Life and the Angels of Death. These two have been engaged in a long-standing conflict, involving battles, wars, and assassinations. However, the war between them was put at peace over a century ago. Only a few angels, due to their extended lifespans, still remember the day when peace was established.

Every time an angel dies, a human-like child can be born. It may take centuries, and some couples may never have children during their thousand-year lifespan. While they have a long life, they are not immortal and can die from various causes, such as a sharp blade, haha.

The King and Queen of the Angels of Life were given their third child. And that is our MC. I'm still unsure about her name, but for now, I call her Lys (Lysandra). The novel begins on her 18th birthday, the day of her transformation into an angel. It's a painful and very bloody ritual that every angel has to go through when they reach adulthood. If they survive the transformation, their ageing will slow down and wings will grow out of their back. On this day, that was never supposed to be witnessed, we meet our male MC – Damian. He is the crown prince of the Angels of Death. And at this moment, he also is a little bit drunk. I should probably add that those two clans (life and death) share borders, that's why he could hear her.

So Lys is painfully walking through the forest, her feet buried in snow. She feels nothing but pain, but she has to follow the moonlight to the place of her transformation. She has no idea, she has crossed the border of her kingdom and stepped into that of her long-term enemy. Furthermore, she is unaware that as she screams while her wings rip through her skin, a certain prince is watching her.

He knows he shouldn't be here. It's a private matter that reveals if the angel is capable of surviving. But he can't help himself. When the ritual is over and Lys passes out, he takes care of her. That is until he discovers the colour of her wings and realises, she's his enemy.

So yeah, a story about angels, enemies-to-lovers, and a good old arranged marriage with A LOT of tension, battles and rebellion.

I'm still working on my first draft, but hopefully, I'm going to finish this by July so I can participate in the CampNaNoWriMo and make progress on the second draft. However, I need to focus on succeeding in my finals first, haha.

Also, have I told you that the whole world knows Damian by his nickname "the Demon" rather than his actual name? I wonder why is that... 😏

(not my picture, it's from pinterest :))

11 notes · View notes

kacakacafall · 1 year

Photo

Again, I find out that I have drawn so many Ms England that I could arrange her in this kind of format, so here we go again

Don’t really believe in the historical dressing though, it definitely is not that accurate Lol some details are bound to be not right

More detail and my rant below:

Basically, those are puritan dresses, which imply simplicity and strictness. In my headcanon, Rose wore those kinds of cloth during the English civil war. Man I fully understand that those dresses is designed to have a strong “women should be chastity and obedient” undertone, since I fully know the historical context during that period. But Ms England could pull it so well that it doesn’t feel like that at all. I think she looks serious and intimidating when wearing it.

The end of the 17th century and the beginning of 18th-century cloth are so underrated, I rarely see them in historical drama and stuff, but I really think they have their own unique style and are worth displaying. The pull-the-edges-of-skirt-behind-the-back-and-tie-them-together style is one of its own kind, creating a lovely shape that I really enjoy drawing. I always like depicting this kind of big-piece-of-cloth-being-folded-then-droping-natrunally style.

18th-century cloth always gives me a princess-in-fluffy-fairy-tale vibe, thanks to all the modern adaptation of those dress in all sorts of “historical” romance movie Lol plus many of them look so extravagant that image Ms England wearing them almost give me a heart attack. I mean, I like to draw her in 18th-century dress, but only through careful selection first. The late 18th century cloth looks very suitable to her though, gotta trying to draw her in that style later.

Ah yeah, 1810s style! I mean, who doesn’t like the 1810s style? they just look so elegant and pretty. The reinterpretation of classic era dress during that period just looks so beautiful, hitting the right spot. And I think it suits the body type of Rose(in my headcanon) so well, which is a bit slim. The style drastically contrasts the condition she has to face during the 1810s though. The 1810s is a very intense period for her, so it’s almost always an angry and anxious woman in a super fluffy and romantic dress Lol

Modern time! As I said before, I think she gives boomer middle age woman vibe in the modern era, same as her dress. For some reason that I couldn’t even explain to myself, I just couldn’t imagine her following young people’s trends and wearing their fashionable clothes? Probably because she is tooooooo old(over two thousands years now) and old habits just stick to her? Or because at the core she is kind of a serious person, so she skips the fun-loving vibe trendy clothes?

#hetalia #historical hetalia #APH England #nyo england #nyotalia

49 notes · View notes

hobbit--punk · 2 years

Text

I made some 18th Century underpinnings and wore them under semi-normal clothes to go out because fuck it, why not?

irOkay, so this started a while back with that one Bernadette Banner video about bringing back pockets as fashion. Watched it while I was trying to figure out how to restyle/resize a skirt that I loved, but was cheaply made and falling apart six months after I got it. And I knew that I wanted pockets, but couldn’t work out how to do that.

Then I decided a while ago to make myself some 18th Century stays, pictures of which have been online before. I’ve written a whole rant on why I want stays before, and posted several blogposts about the history of stays. Not doing that here. When I made them, I decided to use some of the scrap fabric to make a pair of 18th Century pockets, the kind that you tie on under your skirts and access through holes in the outerwear.

Here they are, freshly finished. They (and the stays) aren’t historically accurate, exactly. They were made with some scrap linen/cotton blend I had lying around, and bound in bias tape I made out of some teal quilting cotton. Because teal looked damned good with that unbleached linen/cotton.

And here they are, tied on over my stays and chemise. I figured out a really good rubric as to how big a pocket I make should be: if I can’t fit a paperback copy of Dune into the pocket, I need to make them bigger. These? They can fit Don Quixote.

Here they are once they’re on.

You can’t wear stays against your skin, and I’ve got exactly one chemise made of cotton muslin. For now. There are a few more cut out and ready to be sewn up, because you have NO IDEA how comfortable this was.

You can also see if you followed that link that I’ve shrunk a little bit in the last few months. If this were a bra, I’d be looking at a different size. As it is, I just lace it down a bit tighter and go on with my day. If I gain a bit, which happens, I’ll lace it a bit looser and do the same. I’ve got two more sets of stays planned out as well, because this shit’s more comfortable than any bra I’ve ever worn. Also: back support. So much back support.

Adding my underpetticoat. Look at the slits at the hips, this is because I made it 18th Century style, I think it’s called “apron front?” basically the front is a drawstring you tie behind you, and the back is a drawstring you tie in front of you. The result is a skirt that expands or contracts with your body as you change size over the years.

It’s not even a “pattern,” per se. This skirt and the yellow one that’s following is literally just a bunch of rectangles sewn together with straight seams. My ancestresses didn’t have the money to waste lots of fabric on circle skirts, nor did they have the time to fiddle with weird seams. They had shit to do, much like I do now.

Yeah, the yellow one’s made mostly the same way as the underpetticoat. Two drawstrings, slits in the side giving me epic pocket access. The chemise peeks out under the tee shirt, but honestly, no one gave a shit, least of all me. I’ll make the next ones with shorter sleeves. Or I’ll make the sleeves longer and just go with it. Dunno yet.

This is what I wore to go to the salon, do grocery shopping, and go out to lunch with my husband. No one noticed a damned thing, and the linen and cotton reacted as such materials do with heat and sweat to turn the stays into a snugly laced, supportive, REFRIGERATOR held over my torso in the first days of a Korean summer.

Tagging some friends for fun! @balkanradfem, @thinnyhopper, @iridessence, @hobbitinthelibrary

#hobbitpunk #sewing #fashion #historical clothing #historybounding #bernadette banner #fat positivity #body positivity

264 notes · View notes

centrally-unplanned · 1 year

Text

To elaborate on the ‘libertarian state’ concept, its a very ‘college freshman’ thing to consider politics entirely from the lens of policy outcomes and not political economy and systems of government, which is the trap of libertarian states. Once states gained the technological capacity to expand their power (all pre-modern states are, in some trivial sense, libertarian due to the limits of the time) 100% of states that were not failed states did so. They taxed, regulated, implemented policies, visions, engaged in corruption, empowered insiders, the works. This is zero percent surprising because people who are given power will use that power. The political economy of trying to build a power apparatus - aka a government - composed of powerful stakeholders who have bought into that system...and those people willingly surrendering that power and never using it, is a non-starter.

It can happen at the margins, sure, powerful opposing stakeholders bargaining with each to impose mutual limits. You will get the Bill of Rights restricting government on XYZ. But the US Constitution had amendments for a reason, no government would agree to surrender their power in full, and honestly the history of the US Bill of Rights is the history of those being flouted again and again - speech, gun rights, religion, hell quartering, every single one of those is heavily regulated by the US government today. The government never obeyed its own restrictions. Its just not how things work - and that was the 18th century, let alone today.

Communism is more practical than the libertarian state because communism’s failures are more fundamentally in its policy outcomes, it sucks to live under. But its *theory of politics* is, I mean its shitty, but it can work. A cadre of party elites, admission-by-merit but ruthlessly disempowering outsiders, committed to centralizing control under itself, purging dissent and other power structures to micromanage the state. People *in the party* will support this and execute on it, it doesn’t contradict human nature. Its a militarist concept that only works in times of crisis, yeah sure, but that happens. Never say never but the libertarian state is on far weaker grounds, I don’t think it will happen. Its not a coincidence that say Hong Kong was a colony during its libertarian hey day, its political economy was in a sense removed from the equation by an outside ruler. I don’t view that as a sustainable equilibrium.

None of this is a criticism of libertarians as individuals, by the way - most libertarians are not “Libertarian State” supporters, they just think the current state should pass laws to regulate less things, that is fine and good and I agree a lot of the time. It IS a criticism of ‘starve the beast’ style libertarian movements like has oft ruled the US Republican Party, who thought they could achieve libertarianism via destroying the capacity of the US government to govern and thus force it to ‘default’ to deregulation. This never worked once, ever, and was the stupidest bullshit around and haunts us to this day with dumbass grandstanding around shit like the debt ceiling. The rise of “state capacity libertarianism” has been a really positive development in US liberal circles, recognizing the error that was the “Libertarian State” concept, and I think that is the future of the movement.

So yeah, I have definitely dropped “Communism is more practical than Libertarianism” as a contextual troll-esque hot take before, so there ya go.

#political utopianism discourse

24 notes · View notes

thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 2 years

Note

Idea: Wellington (using this extra two inches) has Napoleon pinned and gets punched in the gut. Then Napoleon grabs his collar to pull him in for a kiss when he doubles over in pain

Apologies for the delay! I've a backlog of asks I've been meaning to get through but the burn-out is real.

hahaha I mean Wellington and Napoleon were around the same height. Both circa 5'5"/5'6" which was average for the late 18th and early 19th century.

I mean...neither were brawlers. Napoleon especially! He could toss things around and be aggressive when pissed, we definitely have accounts of that happening, but it seems to have been very controlled. In the sense that, as Meneval speculated, Napoleon really only put on a show of violent temper when he thought it'd suit him. But getting into fisticuffs? A fight? Not his style. (let's be real, he'd lose. Napoleon was not known for his physical prowess in that way.)

Arthur, to the best of my knowledge, didn't go for physical responses when pissed off. He could get shouty but no brawling or dueling or anything. Maaaaaaaaybe when he was twenty and doing his misspent-youth-routine but even then, I think it's a big stretch.

If we're wanting to set up a fight-then-kiss scene it really would be a verbal argument that gets a bit unhinged. And it'd have to be the sort of argument/dispute that's like "arrrrgh I just want you to shut up but also I get off on arguing with you and ugkjjgjkgkdjg". Would help if Arthur were in uniform since this is Napoleon "I think a man looks nothing when not in regimentals"* Bonaparte.

Napoleon is like, trying to fuck around and find out with Lowe who is...Napoleon's eternal gaolor no matter time or place since I always shove him in a similar role in AUs when Napoleon's stuck in England as opposed to St. Helena. Arthur, who had a low opinion of Lowe (aha), but thinks Napoleon is a menace to the world when bored, is like "you really should leave him alone."

Napoleon is like, "It's not your dignity and sense of self under constant barrage and assault Wellesley" (Arthur's name is said with the most twangy French accent ever).

Arthur is like, "Yes, well, you only have yourself to blame for that. Perhaps you could do some self-reflection on the matter? There's always one common denominator in your falls from grace and power..."

"Yeah. England. You."

Queue fight.

#*Napoleon and Lidya Bennet had the same views on hot men in uniforms namely: please yes add more. they improve the scenery #Napoleon is like: it's a bissous WelLesLeY calm down #Arthur: that was NOT a bissous. I know what a bissous is #Napoleon does his Marionete Serpent Smile and pats Arthur's cheek and is like then wanders off #Arthur is like: UGGGH I SWEAR going to push him into a peat bog next time #napolington #napoleon bonaparte #arthur wellesley #ask #anon #reply

12 notes · View notes

j-a-smiths-blog · 7 months

Text

0649 21Nov23: Chapter 1: It has begun.

I have taken the bomull fabric I bought from Ikea and started making my 18th-century shirt yesterday. I am doing everything by hand. So, with that being said, I got the main body portion sewn up with the focus being the side hems. From the armpit to the waist is sewn. I even, five inches from the bottom hem, put the traditional v cut for potential leg movement. Today, i will work on getting the waist line hem complete and then cut the neck hole. I'm thinking of added strength. I should hem the neck line and then add the collar as this would be a primary sweat collection area. I also think that maybe after I cut the neck gussets, I should go ahead and do shoulder pad style gussets, again for some added strength but also partially for looks. Maybe I should sketch it before planning to do it?

I would hope that a few days, the shirt is done so that I can move on to the breeches. I got black for those.

My maid washed the six yards of denim, so I have that to work with, too. I'm thinking of a woodworking apron. I suppose I really should confirm the date denim came about. That doesn't mean I can't still make regular clothes with it, so I have some... but as for production, I wouldn't want to go too far out of accuracy.

So yeah, I have some stuff on my plate to keep me busy, and it's a good thing because my mind last night started going out into the creative mode and if you're reading this let me know... should I write a short story cinematic film on my take of Pinocchio?

I have a small list of products I would be aiming for. And since I love making short story scripts and want to film, I feel like combining the three things would be the perfect little way to utilize my time. So I suppose a little research would assist. In the end, I wouldn't want to do a remake of Pinocchio I would want to make my own Pinocchio inspired story.

Fudge. The more I write, the more my mind starts to create ways I could make the little film interesting. Ok I will end it here as I should be getting ready to take my nephew to school!

0 notes

not-alien-girl-v · 11 months

Text

Vampires Will Never Hurt You (Harry Styles)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"What do you think you're gonna get, girls?" Charlie had his head buried in his menu, sitting across from Donna and me in a small booth at IHOP.

"Not pancakes," Donna added nonchalantly. I turned my neck and gave her a look.

"You're going to the International House of Pancakes, and you're not getting pancakes?" Charlie put his menu down for this conversation.

"They have other things on the menu for a reason," Donna and Charlie continued to bicker on like that about why they should or shouldn't get pancakes, and I couldn't help but let my mind wander.

I spotted a man wearing a bright orange and blue shirt and was sent back into my memories.

It was June, 1978, back when Donna was still new to the coven, having arrived a mere 9 years before, and her, Charlie, and I were walking along a beach in California.

"No, no, no! You're wrong, just accept it!" Charlie bickered with Donna. Only 9 years ago they had met, and since that day they've been bickering like an old married couple. They're practically soulmates.

"Look Charlie, cats can see IN THE DARK. If they can see in the dark, werecats in a human form wouldn't need glasses! It's part of their whole supernatural thing! Shut your mouth!" Donna argued.

I was about to chime into the argument with my opinion when I saw a strange man staring at me across the sand. This guy was a textbook vampire. Sure, he didn't dress like an 18th-century governor, but he was crazy pale and strangely charming.

The more I thought about it, the more the idea of vampires intrigued me. What would I do if I met one?

That was the very first day that vampires consumed my every thought. If only 40 year old me could see me now.

"Faye, what do you think?" Charlie pulled me out of my daydream, and I suddenly realized my friend and my brother were now staring at me expectantly.

"Um, I think I'm going to get pancakes, sorry Donna." My best friend simply rolled her eyes and picked up her phone.

"Do you guys remember my accent?" I asked out of nowhere.

"Yeah, I do, why?" Donna replied while scrolling through Tumblr.

"I just miss it. It's weird to think I sound American, but then again, I don't sound remotely the same way I did a two hundred years ago," I looked out the window with a solemn gaze.

"Not so loudly Faye, we only moved here 20 years ago, I'm not ready to get the locals suspicious," Charlie warned with a pointed look.

"It's Los Angeles, this isn't even close to the weirdest conversation I've heard. Also, what do you mean by locals? We haven't had a stable neighbor for more than a year."

"Well, perhaps that's more us problem than a them problem. Remember the cotton incident of '06? Or the socks in the bathtub mishap of 2014?" Charlie said.

I shivered at the memory. A bathtub filled with socks is fun, but let's just say throwing up 3 pounds of cotton is not.

"Anyways, I'm gonna go out for a smoke. Don't order me anything," I excused myself from the table and walked outside.

I lit my cigarette and opened my phone, scrolling through my Instagram feed.

Suddenly, a post caught my attention. Harry Styles posted for the first time in a few months, with a selfie with his bandmate Louis, and the location was Los Angeles.

Maybe I'll run into him, a very old, very dangerous, yet hopeful part of my brain thought.

No. I thought we agreed to not listen to head-voice Faye. Remember the time that we-, shut up Donna! No, she wasn't telepathically communicating with me, I've just known her for long enough that her little voice comes into my head whenever I'm about to make a bad decision. That's how I know the decision is terrible, when I can immediately imagine Donna scolding me, but sometimes I just don't listen to it.

On that note, I put out my cigarette and walked back to the entrance, but was stopped by a now hiring sign.

I decided to walk inside and ask the man at the counter if I could get an interview, and ultimately got myself scheduled for two days from then.

I peered through the restaurant to see Charlie and Donna once again, in a lighthearted argument, and I decided to stay outside until they were finished.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

After I got back to the table, Donna and Charlie managed to behave themselves for the rest of the night. All the way through dinner, which was when Charlie gave us a stern talking to about using the new spell, to when he dropped us off at our shared house and went home.

"Did you end up getting an interview while we were there?" Donna had asked me while cleaning the dishes.

"I did yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a job there. By the looks of it, they were understaffed, I don't think the bar is very high at the moment," I replied and suddenly got the idea to perfect the spell now that I had some brotherly advice on it:

"That's good," Donna finished up with the dishes, "I'm gonna go to bed, goodnight, Faye." She walked off to her room.

"Night," I mumbled and pretended to be invested in my phone but once I made sure she was in her room, I scrambled to grab my grimoire.

I followed Charlie's not so specific instructions, and figured which item I'd link the spell to, which I decided would be an old dagger I found in the garage, and then got to work on my sigil.

I studied the base sigil I wanted to use and drew it in my own grimoire, then added in some jazz to make it my own.

I carefully tiptoed to my room and slid open my closet door to find a suitable outfit. I pushed aside several old dresses and jackets, and once my hand pushed aside one jacket in particular, an old Polaroid fell out of the broken pocket.

I got that heavy feeling in my heart, you know, the kind you get when you're about to remember something you're trying to forget.

I reluctantly bent down and grabbed the Polaroid, inspecting the outlines of my face 40 years ago placed beside none other than Jesse Kellerman himself.

Like always, I was sent into a flashback.

"Wait, so does that mean that you do magic and shit?" Jesse asked me with an ecstatic grin on his face as he sat at the foot of my bed.

"Yeah, I guess it does," I played with a small ring I had on my finger.

"Turn me into a frog!" He shouted, and I snorted at him. "What?"

"Why do you want to be a frog?" I asked him through my laughter.

"It's not about wanting to be a frog, it's about wanting to see you turn me into a frog," he explained and he scooted closer to me.

"I don't think I know a frog spell. Believe it or not, us witches, we try to focus our magic on more serious topics," I attempted to explain to him. Keyword attempted.

"Well then just make one up, you can do that, right?" He looked like an excited puppy, and I couldn't just say no to him.

"Fine, I'll see what I can do."

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

About half an hour later, I had found a spell for amphibians, so there was a chance he could turn into a frog, but he could also be a toad or a salamander or even a newt.

In the end, he turned into a toad, which was close enough to a frog, and it wasn't like he could tell the difference; he was a toad.

After a solid 10 minutes of me laughing my ass of and him making toad sounds (A/N I looked it up turns out toads make different sounds than frogs) I whipped out my Polaroid camera and took a picture of him. Once it came out I shook it, then wrote down 'Faye + Toad Jesse 1978'

I assumed that one day in the future we'd look back at the picture and I'd tell him how the spell didn't work quite right, but I never got the chance to.

As soon as I snapped out of my daydream, I shoved the picture into the other pocket of the jacket as fast as it fell out.

I quickly yanked on a jacket and walked back out to the living room where my grimoire resided.

From what Charlie told me, the spell can't be completed until it's tested, so I needed to find my test subject.

I decided that it could wait until I found a worthy creature to be the world's first vampire. It's a big role, I can't just hand it out to any old guy!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles fic #louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson fanfic #louis tomlinson fanfiction #2014 aesthetic #2014 vibes #2014 core #2014 grunge

0 notes

witcher-bullshit · 3 years

Text

Nightmare of the Wolf review

Okay! I am done watching. Here are my thoughts, somewhat linear, hopefully comprehendable, I guess it contains spoilers, like all of them, and complaining. Don’t like it? Don’t read it:

-the opening song sucks. Like it’s trying to be a children’s rhyme but it’s badly done

-WHY do they pronounce it CATEwynn... Kädwen is really not that goddamn hard.

-yeah you made it anime but why for the love of everything did you have to give us tentacle content

-I hate opening boys voice actor (actress?) (And I also hate young Illyana’s voice actress, she sounds just like how all American women are synchronised in German and it’s terrible)

-They try to make Vesemir so ~edgy and cool~ with the shit he says... no ur not. like stfu and fight the damn monster.

-When I said his character is like Dean Winchester meets Avatar Aang (character and skills wise) when I was at minute 4 I was accurate, and I absolutely despise that. Makes him wholly uncool. His ~not like the other boys~ attitude makes it even worse.

-they mangled the Leshen... they made it ugly and uncool, sorry you can’t convince me otherwise. Also BAD for not like... explaining why Leshen exist?? That they are protectors of the forest...?

-oh good gods THE FUCKING ATTACK ON TITAN RETRACTABLE CHAIN WHY DID THEY DO THAT I HATE IT SO MUCH. I’ll only say it once... Witcher work is pretty down to Earth come the end of the day... not like that.

(it’ll go on for a looong time after this cut. Take a few minuts.)

-the king’s castle.... why does it look like 17th/18th century WHYYYY also why is the court looking like that style, why is the king looking like Louis the 16th or whatever. No! they are pissing in the goddamn corners that are strewn with straw all sitting at a table not... whatever they are trying to sell with their idk noble’s parliament

-why did they give the elves these... protruding giant ears... aren’t they supposed to be like unreal beautiful? They look like Dumbo fled the circus

-hahaha Kitsu they are trying to be soooo clever. Like noone’s ever heard the word Kitsune

-I could have gone without having to look at naked Vesemir :/

-I don’t understand Filavandrel’s “imagine if you witchers laboured for more than just thrills and coin” ??? like... let him have a good time? he’s SUPPOSED to be ousted by society lmfao. (apparently not at this point according to whatever the show is trying to portray)

-the fucking donkey is making horse noises. and yeah it’s subtitled with [horse whinnies] couldn’t you find donkey noises???

-they clearly made Illyana a #girlboss.

-if that was an intentional MY CABBAGES innuendo I’ll take it lmao.

-when that Witcher that find’s them is like “they’d chop your hands off in Nilfgaard and make you wear them around your neck” Sir?? We are in the Northern Realms? Which are ass backwards? MUCH MORE ASS BACKWARDS THAN NILFGAARD? You coulda just said they’d enslave you, because that would be actually accurate!!! But.. THAT? Have you even BEEN to Nilfgaard?

-also sir why does your sword not have a sheath... u just running around with that sharp pointy thing all unprotected?

-I hate the “exorcism” scene... They HAD to put boobs in there didn’t they... Also “demons” “mahr” DECIDE what is it?? in canon demons are something completely else arfdkjg

-they made Vesemir ~not like the other boys~ and BOY does it suck. “oooooh I’m gonna become a coooool Witcher, not that there SHOULD BE A FUCKING STIGMA AGAINST THEM IN CANON”

-”saving the continent from [...] mad sorcerers” Illyana I need you to sit down with Geralt for a couple of minutes and let him tell you how he got his ass whooped

-okay I like his little crush on Illyana I admit it. He is a romantic at heart as he should be.

-WHY IS HE RUNNING AWAY IN WINTER. WHYYY.

-HOW DOES HE FIND KAER MORHEN. He should literally die on the way because it’s so goddamn hidden and dangerous to get there.

-Why does Kaer Morhen look like the Viper keep from Gwent. I’m only asking once.

-whatever is name is, I’m gonna headcanon that he’s just small and not a dwarf <3

-they really pronounced it Naseer.....

-at this point I noticed that the only Black people so far were the family that got fridged at the start+the boy that escaped. (I mean yeah there later is also the mage, but he doesn’t have like.. a big role? And he also dies) Lauren.... your representation...

-I do like the soundeffects for their sword against sword fights.

-Vesemir is so fucking dismissive of the other kids’ trauma of getting ripped away from their families ~not like the other boys~ syndrome strikes again.

-okay... now the Red Swamp scene (first of all how did that boy’s father know about that place that literally makes no sense)... THIS IS BULLSHIT. THIS IS STUPID. WHY WOULD THEY SENT UNMUTATED KIDS AGAINST REAL POWERFUL MONSTERS. THIS IS A GODDAMN WASTE OF HUMAN RESSOURCES??? THERE IS A REASON WITCHERS WERE CREATED. BECAUSE THEY ARE SPECIALISTS. BECAUSE IT WAS NECESSARY TO HAVE EXPERTS. WHY DO THEY HAVE THIS “Separate the wheat from the chaff“ SCENE??

-”imagine beasts engineered to wipe out the old races and the elves” + “mages made monsters and then witchers to kill them” Perdón???????? I mean yeah Mages do all kinds of weird genetic experimentation because half of them are megalomaniacs but... none of this happened? Not even as a thought experiment?

-The fucking envelope. Envelopes are like... 19th century babes.. In ye olde days you just folded the letter in on itself and then sealed it shut with wax. Yes I will make this anachronism (don’t ride my ass about Witcher being fantasy, there is a clear stylistic line drawn out in the books) it’s own point.

-The Trial of the Grasses scene is nice! Good! Too bad we never see Vesemir suffer from the goddamn Trauma (or the other boys) it inflicts on them! Why show torture if you don’t show it’s aftermath. Even fucking Supernatural managed to do that.

-The Falwick rip-off should’ve had a little more screentime to present his standpoint better.

-”the people’s faith in the monarchy already wavers” so we doing French revolution?? THERE IS A BIG DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MONARCHY AS AN INSTITUTION AND A MONARCH HIMSELF

-Illyana is here and I like the twist about her. And thank god she has a different voice actress now.

-that’s not how you ride horses... For fuck’s sake can ANY anime please show horses actually be ridden with “tight” reins? not that saggy “haha if I whip then reins on the horses neck like I’m driving a cart it’s gonna go” shit?

-Kitsu baby... they made you naked and then you aren’t even a vampire :/ Please illusion yourself some clothes on. And for love’s sake drop the Gollum voice. Also yeah I’ve now figuered out you’re an aguara. not really hard.

-Why is the sorceress using bow and arrow... Is this like a nod to Vilgefortz regenerating swords from twn? This is a no from me.

-I’m gonna say this only once. There is not enough differentiation between using the silver and the steel sword. The Witcher’s trade is not handled with the care and detail it deserves #workingclassrepresentation

-I like the style of the elven ruins.

-I understand that they are giving us the ~aguara origin story~ here but.. It’s not good. I don’t like it. I think I’ll get back to it when I complain about the ~plot twist~

-I hate Filavandrel hopping about these parts. Like no.. what are you even doing here? You should be like.. picking flowers and starcing in Dol Blathanna. This ain’t your territory. The way he is so idk cloistered is the wrong word, but unfamiliar and shut off from humans in The Edge of the World does NOT fit him here. Also... Vesemir would never call him “Fil”

-”It was not a Question of Price” look! look! we dropped a story title! We are giving you scraps!

-Okay, here are my thoughts on the big plottwist that Deglan and R... that mage idk forgot his name (Reidreich??) were making monsters... NO. BAD. WRONG. WHY ARE THEY EVEN GIVING A HINT OF JUSTIFICATION FOR THE POGROM???? ISN’T IT BETTER TO TELL A STORY WHERE HUMANS CAN BE JUST SO EASILY MANIPULATED INTO HATING AND PERSECUTING PEOPLE THAT ARE PERCEIVED TO BE DIFFERENT BUT DEEP DOWN ARE ACTUALLY JUST... normal people.

-how the fuck does Illyana know where Kaer Morhen is. it makes no goddamn sense. Also why does she say to Vesemir that he’s different... like... see my point above. But their kiss was sweet. I want to see more immortal character kissing their actually old love interest.

-about the kids during the battle hiding and then running: They should’ve made it a little like the Battle of Helm’s Deep except all the kids die too for shock value to show how goddamn fucked up it is. I mean I had to put in the age restriction code, give me something to work with.

- Haha now the MONSTERS hunt the WITCHERS.. ROLE REVERSAL.. no thank you. You could have shown that Witchers are NOT the complete superhumans they are made out to be in this anime. That yes, they can be clobbered to death by a mob. by HUMANS.

-the fucking attack on titan chain again. WHY. WHY ARE YOU TORTURING ME LIKE THIS.

-since when can swords cut solid stone.. like no offense to Witcher swords, but they ain’t *that* special

-I said it before and I’ll say it again: The monster fights are treated way too casually.

-I’m seeing right now I barely wrote anything about the sorceress whose name I can’t remember. But tbh I didn’t care about her and was Vesemir supposed to have like.. idk killed her mom or sumthing? Also fuck you for giving her a Yennefer style necklace and making her look like an MMORPG player character. have some taste.

-I swear when they leave Kaer Morhen you can shortly hear a theme from the Games OST. Otherwise their OST is not that impressive.

-Illyana’s death is said and I did like the romance arc.

-haha look it’s GERALT stfu.

#bullshit talks #The Witcher #The Witcher Netflix #Nightmare of the Wolf #Vesemir #Illyana #Deglan #Geralt of Rivia #Filavandrel #The Witcher spoilers #Netflix Show #Memes #you know if you find ranting entertaining

98 notes · View notes

headingalaxys-spicy · 2 years

Text

Yandere! America x Reader X England England Ending

To be perfectly honest it's 2am and I...just couldn't sleep so here is what my sleep-deprived mind created. Because it was bugging me that I hadn't finished this series yet.

By the time you come to, you wake up in a spell-induced haze. You had no idea where you were but it wasn’t the apartment that you owned in the city you worked in. You were somewhere far nicer but still pretty repressive. You had a collar on your neck that sapped you of your power because it had been enchanted to do so.

“Ugh, where…where am I?” You notice that you were in a posh but modern 18th century styled master bedroom. It was a light pale blue that was stunning to look at with its elegant charm. It had a British flag that was mounted above the fireplace. Yeah, definitely not the simple and modestly decorated apartment you were accustomed to. And you had a clear idea of whom you had already been taken by.

“How nice you’re finally conscious, I didn’t think you would come to love.” The British accent comes from the left of you in the large room. You slowly turn your head to see the 5’9 British man coming towards you in your vulnerable state. “I know that adjusting to this new life you have will be difficult but you will come to like it.” He pauses for a moment to look at your face which appears to be agitated even though you had only been conscious for less than five minutes. “In time but, it looks like you still need an adjustment period. Then we’ll get to your training to be a proper wife for me.” Your ears burn and headaches at the thought of having to become the man's wife one of the last things you wanted to be.

With a weak and cracking voice, you manage to say with anger “Sure, I’m just dying to be the plaything of one of your filthy elites.” You look at him in his glowering green eyes that had a glint of sadism in them. Which scared you a little but you had nothing left to lose. You had lost your store. Your dignity and now your powers were going to be used as the sole purpose for entertainment.

The British man merely chucks at your stubborn defiance. He finds it charming that you think you have any power or even had the gall to speak to him that way. He grabs your chin so you had no other choice but to look directly into his now glowing green eyes.

“Oh, my sweet little fae darling. You exist to serve the likes of me. This is why your (e/c) shines brightly and your power beauty beacons me to you. You just have to understand the natural order of how things are to work here.” He squeezed your face just to hear you squeak out in pain for his own amusement. You bear your teeth at him in defiance. And with a squinted face you state boldly “Try me.”

“Gladly, love.” He pulls out his wand from his left sleeve. It flows brightly nearly blinding you in the process. He places a spell on you to reveal your true fae form which was a Tylwyth Teg fae with beautiful long (h/c) and glistening golden eyes. Your translucent golden wings matched your perfect eyes. “That's better. That abhorrent somewhat masculine disguise annoyed me. It’s not how a popper lady of a gentleman like me should be.” He admires his handy work in revealing your true form.

You don’t know what to do this is the first man whos ever tried his hand at taming you and he did it with ease and confidence. No one except your mom who went missing years ago knew about your true form and taught you how to handle it.

“I… will escape you…asshole.” You say at him in futile defiance.

“Sure you will.” He releases his grip on your face and steps back to admire his handy work. He makes sure the collar you had on was changed into a beautiful golden necklace that completed your ensemble perfectly. You were in a white and gold scalloped lace gown that went past your feet and fully swallowed your figure in a way that also made it seem like you had a mermaid tail. With long form-fitting sleeves.

“Come now you haven’t eaten in a while and I want you ro see the new home that you will be presiding in for the rest of your life.”

England guided you through the immaculate castle that you were taken to and although this place was amazing it still counted as your prison just cushy and with maids and butlers who will attend to your every need while he was away. Some of them however were trained to tame the likes of you while others were not so much. He did this so you wouldn't be able to tell who you would need to avoid and trick.

“Now that that's over with it’s time for the main event of the night.” He leads you to a dressing room where there were 5 maids on standby, 2 seamstresses, and 1 designer who were eagerly awaiting your arrival. “There she is oh my goodness she’s quite lovely!” Immediately your bridal beauty team was all over you like bees to pollen. “We’ll make sure she's all nice for tonights ceremony Mr. England~, “The shortest maid tells him.

“Good. I’ll see you later Mrs.Kirkland.” England coos at you and leaves you to be prepared for the wedding. You shivered at the soon-to-be last name that you’ll have.

“Oh y/n you’re a lucky fae. He’s so handsome.” One of the other maids gushes thinking about your soon-to-be husband. “He’s the definition of chivalry and grace and being an overall gentleman. It’s for your own good after all. You need him to protect you.”

“Sure.” You mumble under your breath. Not that the maids or the others heard you since they were extremely giddy to get you ready for your captor.

************

Once you were ready in your lavish wedding dress. You were ready to be imprisoned for the rest of your life.

You were given a bouquet that had purple tulips, white orchids, and pink hydrangeas. You took in a deep breath trying to think of ways to get out of the predicament that you were currently in. But to no avail, your mind was foggy and clouded with despair you didn’t want to accept that you had to live out your true form as a spectacle for others. Especially your soon-to-be husband. For some reason, the bouquet felt heavy to you. How could they when they were just flowers?

As you walked down the aisle to your wedding march you had to hold in the tears that you were holding back. How did your life go so wrong so quickly? Even though you had worked so diligently to preserve the simple and busy life to avoid an elite like him. By the time you reached the altar, you were dizzy and the bouquet felt like you were carrying 2 30 pound dumbbells. As the preacher read through his usual vows that legally married a couple you didn’t notice that parts of it were a soul-binding spell. As you obediently turned to kiss your new husband everything faded to black.

#yandere headcanons #yandere hetalia #yandere hetalia x reader #hws #hetalia fandom #hetalia x reader #x reader #yandere england #arthur kirkland

33 notes · View notes

introvert--weeb · 3 years

Text

The Case of the Other Time-Leaper

Below is the first chapter of this Tokyo Revengers fanfiction. Please bare with me as I haven't written in this style for a long time <3

Please do give some constructive feedback on what you all think. And whether it should be continued here.

Shibuya, Tokyo. 5.07.2005

"Kisaki wishes to meet with you."

The voice of Shuji Hanma filled the cold night air, his golden eyes narrowed at the one he was talking to. He really didn't want to be an errand boy for Kisaki, especially when the jobs were not as fun and thrilling as the others. Yet here he was, standing at the entrance of an alley, glaring at a shorter male who simply stared blankly back.

Genji had arrived in 2005 a few hour ago so he really wasn't expecting someone to request his presence already. While it was a little strange, the grey-haired boy was bored and in desperate need of some entertainment. After all, beating up random people he found was getting old quickly.

"Sure, just give me a moment, yeah?" He pushed himself from the wall he was leaning against before heading over towards the recent unconscious boy that had provided some brief entertainment. Rummaging through his pockets, he pulled out a wallet and pocketed it into his own jacket. "I'm good to go!" Genji smiled, his eyes focused solely on the tall boy. Hanma didn't know what it was about those eyes but they sent shivers down his spine, almost resembling instinctual fear. Something about the grey-haired boy had him on high alert for the first time. But he led the boy to where Kisaki was waiting regardless.

"So you're Tetta Kisaki?" Throwing his cigarette to the ground, Genji crushed the butt under the toe of his boot. For some reason, he was expecting someone more...intimidating? Not some scrawny blond with glasses. But hey, who was he to judge? He had come across a load of people in his travels, most of them surprising him.

Kisaki watched the newcomer in both caution and interest. He had heard about a boy that suddenly turned up and was beating down gang members left and right. All reports seemed to make out that Genji was something of a monster but the person stood in front of him seemed like nothing more than a regular 16 year old.

"I'm Genji! At least, that's what everyone calls me... I am surprised you heard of me considering I only arrived here a few hours ago!" Genji didn't wait for an answer to his earlier question. It was pretty obvious that he must be Tetta Kisaki considering the lanky male had brought him here.

"Here? As in Shibuya?" Hanma butted in.

"No, no, no. Here as in 2005! I can't remember where I was beforehand though! I do think it may have been 18th Century France though!" None of what was coming out of Genji's mouth made any sense to the other two boys. What did he mean he came here from 18th Century France? He was dressed in modern clothing after all. Surely if he had come back from then, he would be dressed in old timey clothing? Hanma put it down to the boy being delusional. After all, what sane person would believe anything coming out of the stranger's mouth?

"What are you talking about?" Kisaki asked, his interest piqued by what the boy was saying. Logically, none of what he had said was possible, but there was a part of the blond that believed him. That this Genji person had travelled through time and ended up here. And he would be damned if he didn't find out if it was possible.

"Leaped through time. I ended up here as I had no real destination in mind. Just had to get out before they pulled out the good ol' guillotine," Genji laughed, recalling the only memory he had from the last experience. "Didn't want to lose my head more than I already have, after all." The laughter started to creep Hanma and Kisaki out. It was a laugh of a person unhinged. Hanma knew he was crazy but damn, this boy was making him look normal.

"So you can travel through time...willingly?" Kisaki tried to confirm this information and smirked when the grey-haired boy simply nodded, now finding his attention on his lighter. "Then, are you willing to use that ability for me? I can make it worth your time," the blond simply came right out and asked the request. If he had a time-leaper, he could make sure his plans would work. Having Genji around was looking like a huge advantage. Hanma glanced over at Kisaki as if he was insane. Did he seriously believe what the boy had said? Sometimes, Hanma had to wonder if he was the normal one in this situation. Without proof, there was no way he would believe anything Genji had to say. Maybe he would get the shorter male to prove it later.

"What's in it for me? They do say that a favour is meant to be repaid with...something or other. Or was it that nothing in this life comes in threes? That didn't sound right..." Genji had lost himself in trying to recall a popular saying, his spare hand harshly ruffling the short grey strands. The information he was searching for must be in there somewhere. After all, that's what minds are for, collecting stuff to recall later, right? But it seemed as if his was failing him. "But never mind that! As long as I get to have some fun, I don't mind doing anything. However, want someone killed and that will cost you some candy!" Genji grinned, his eyes sparkling like a child in a toyshop. That is what he reminded Kisaki of anyway. A small child that had been told they could have whatever they wanted for simply having a mouthful of veggies.

From that moment, it seemed as though an agreement had been set. Kisaki could use Genji as a tool to further his plans, as long as he provided some entertainment for the older teen.

Somewhere in Shibuya, Tokyo. 6.07.2005

Takemichi comes back to the past, a clear mission in mind.

Meet with either Manjiro Sano or Tetta Kisaki and prevent the two from meeting.

Now that the blond thought about it, it seemed easier said than done. After all, he doesn't recall ever coming across either of them in his original past and he had no idea what they looked like. The only information he had was that they were the Top Two of Tokyo Manji Gang in the future. And the only people he knew that had any information about Toman were Kiyomasa and his small gang.

What the young teen didn't expect was to be thrown straight into a brawl as soon as he gets to said past. One punch to the face and he was out-cold on the ground, shouts and jeers being the last thing he hears before losing consciousness.

When he had finally regained consciousness, he wasn't expecting Kiyomasa and his gang to still be where the Fight Club takes place. Maybe he could use this situation to his advantage. After all, it would make his mission a lot easier if he could meet up with either Kisaki or Sano as soon as possible. Quicker he was in making sure they never meet, the sooner he gets to go back and Hinata would be safe. That was his thought pattern anyway.

Kiyomasa obviously didn't take the mention of his boss' name falling so casually from Takemichi's lips very well. In no time, Takemichi was beaten up a lot worse than he has ever been, blood staining his skin.

What was he thinking? He couldn't save Hinata. Not when he couldn't even stand up and protect himself. All he wanted was to head back to the comfort of his future. At least there he wasn't being beaten by Kiyomasa with a baseball bat.

Genji had decided he would wander around Shibuya, having heard about there being Fight Clubs taking place there. However, he must have been late since when he got to the location, all he saw was a beaten and bloody blond. He was about to walk off again in search of some other type of entertainment until he caught sight of the blue eyes. Those eyes didn't fit a 14 year old boy and it clicked almost immediately for the taller boy.

"Hey! You're a time-leaper, aren't ya?"

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers spoilers ahead #the case of the other time-leaper #original character #canon divergence au #follows main canon #kisaki tetta #hanma shuji #takemichi hanagaki #hanagaki takemichi #toman arc #constructive criticism welcome #feedback welcome

36 notes · View notes

ellzarts · 2 years

Text

In characters I don't talk enough about....Bonnie!

Bonita "Bonnie" Clydesdale (Yes, named after the bandits. Prefers Bonnie)

Mid-late 20s, fun fact she doesn't know her exact birthday

Cis Woman, Aro/Ace, 5'3", she'll occasionally wear a heeled boot putting her at 5'5"

-girl is all shoulders and built like a gymnast, cannot run to save her life.

-Weapon: is an 18th century musket or massive ass shot gun. She's proficient in most guns, later in life she switches to more handguns but her big one will always have a special place in her heart.

- She was born in the backwoods of Kentucky, she was pulled from school around 2nd grade due to having to care for her siblings. All under the guise of homeschooling, she never learned much. Her mother was an alcoholic drug addict who was seldom home and when she was it usually was to cause problems or drop off another sibling. Safe to say as the oldest, Bonnie didn't care for her.

None of them knew their fathers or birthdays. The younger ones Bonnie started keeping track of slightly better but it was all guesses. Bonnie was told her father was some Spanish speaking charmer and that's why she got her name Bonita. But she highly doubts that, no one would call her mother that.

All the kids flew under the radar of anyones concern living in this backwoods house that occasionally wouldn't have electricity or running water. When she was around 12 at the park one day with her herd of siblings, someone approached her and talked her into coming with them. Learn about how to wrangle demons and magic. Being desperate for something more than this shit life, she leaves without a second thought.

The Hunter school was deep in the Appalachian mountains nearly impossible to find to outsiders. There she sets the precedent, yeah she's on the smaller side but will fucking destroy the other kids in the dirtiest fighting style. Biting, scratching, gouging. She has no remorse or mercy. She has this reputation but also is so far behind in the actual study portion since she never really learned to read or write after being pulled early from school.

Bring in Jae, she meets this pathetic rich kid a couple years younger who talks so much shit but cannot back it up. She kicks his ass then makes a deal with him. He helps her learn to read and write and she'll teach him how to hold his own. Honestly she was in desperate need of having a sibling/authority over someone dynamic.

The two are basically inseparable. Bonnie acts as a mentor to him and he annoys the shit out of her but keeps her from going off the rails. Neither of them should have passed their final trials but thanks to the other, they manage to not die.

From there, they go their separate ways and only typically meet up a few times a year to work together on contracts. From 20-25 she saves Jae's ass countless times and nearly kills him once.

She retrieves his foot from a swamp monster and gets him to an amateur sorcerer to reattach it. The foot never was the same.

She shoots him point blank range in the chest to kill a monster he was holding down. Dumbass was convinced the seal would work, she ain't got time for that. He nearly died in a regular hospital and she kinda felt bad about that one. Started to realize maybe she needs him to some extent. They didn't speak for a good year after that.

They reconnect bit shaky at first, but Jae's bad with grudges. They complete a few contracts in North Carolina. Bonnie is aiming down a Harpy not watching the ground. A smaller one, most likely the chicks rush at her and take out her right ear and last two right fingers. The ones not on the trigger. That's where they meet Dhamara and Ceilo. Two dirty gremlins in her store dumpster searching for something magical to stop the bleeding. Dhamara takes them in and is like I'll treat your injuries just stop being weird and please have my Dragon Hunter Husband teach you actual skills.

The final injury is a routine contract, ghouls harassing some farmlands. Underestimating the volume and trying to protect Bonnie, Jae gets his scalp ripped nearly off. She has to finish off the swarm and drag his nearly dead ass over a hundred miles while he's bleeding. Probably the scariest moment of her life. Bitch lives, she beats the shit outta him two weeks after he wakes up.

It being over ten years since her disappearance, Bonnie goes to find her old family to make ammends. Only to discover the shitty shed like house was burned to the ground with melted toys and rumble still present. Like no one tried to save it. Taken aback, she looks into it within the town and discovers no one made it out.

For the first time she feels guilt for leaving, perhaps if she stayed those kids would have lived. Has a good cry and holds onto her new family in a vice grip.

She takes up contracts for sea faring as they're most regular. Most the assignments are protecting magical creature and item trafficking. Bonnie doesn't give a shit, a pay check is a paycheck. Her point of contact is Lincoln, a deadbeat druggie emotion feeding vampire. When not neglecting feeds, he's pretty resourceful. She'll get assignments from him and rule the ship.

The captain likes to pretend he's in charge but when the sirens start screaming, there's no second guessing who is. She gains a fairly well known reputation in the docks especially after killing a man who questioned her methods. The winter months she stays land bound for the most part, after dealing with a rogue necromancer in DC she realizes land missions are awful and she never wants to deal with them again.

Luckily the necromancer moves in with Lincoln and keeps that dumbass alive for her to keep a steady stream of jobs. Eventually she gets her own ship and connection with high ring vampires as their main shipping source. She maintains control by threatening them regularly. "Ya'll are only alive because you're of use to me" style.

That's pretty much how she spends her time between missions and visiting the others. She regards Jae, Dhamara and Ceilo as close family. Lincoln and Emery (the necromancer) as friends which is honor enough for her. Eventually she's civil to Kas.

Bonnie's a cold asshole. She shows affection harshly and most don't know that's her being nice but she's loyal to a fault once you're in. So keeps the relationships few and far between. She's completely fine with that.

Bonnie doesn't change much, she does welcome the few new relationships in her life but she's always that same person to her core. Self preserving.

I designed Bonnie back in ....2017, she started out as super sweet and goofy but felt pretty one dimensional. Made her a hardass and got more use out of her. Ya know exploring sacrifice and selfishness. Could probably do more with her especially later in her life she's just vibing right now.

#ocs #dewdle #I wrote too much lolololo

3 notes · View notes

moveslikebucky · 3 years

Photo

Coming January 18th for the @do-it-with-style-events Reverse Bang!

Demons cannot fly. The ability, like so many other things, was ripped away from them during the Fall, pulled out of them by the Archangel Michael herself.

Crowley still dreams of flying, misses the rush of the wind in his wings, the feeling of freedom that comes from soaring through the sky or through space. A thing he admitted in a moment of weakness, drunk in the bookshop backroom back in the 19th century. He still regrets that show of weakness.

This is a story about learning to fly and learning to heal, about choosing one’s fate and one’s side. And, maybe most of all, a story about how the love we want is the love that we deserve after all.

---

Y’all I am SO EXCITED to share this story with you! I am beyond honored to be working with the ever-brilliant @cassieoh on this journey! Four chapters of hurt/comfort, avenging angel Aziraphale, and Crowley learning he just might be worth it after all <3

Look out for it on January 18th! And check out a small snippet from chapter 1 under the cut. 1862 in the backroom of the bookshop, an angel and a demon get drunk and talk about flying (but they mean other things).

“Angel, I think we’re both well and truly sloshed.”

“I should say so, drunker than I thought. Maybe we should sober up?”

Aziraphale moves to stand, to bring the evening to an end, and that just won’t do. Before he can think better of it, Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s wrist. He turns to look at the angel, mentally blaming the alcohol for his lack of inhibition where he usually would be able to show restraint.

“Nah, not yet.”

Aziraphale just shrugs, and lays back on the ground. He makes no move to extract his wrist from Crowley’s grip, so Crowley makes no move to let go. They lie on the ground in silence for what feels like forever, before Crowley clears his throat.

“We can’t.” Crowley finally says on a cracked voice.

“What?”

“Demons. Can’t actually fly. One of the things She took from us, when Michael cast us out.” Crowley isn’t sure what makes him say it, what makes him backtrack on his words from earlier and tell Aziraphale this painful truth about himself. Aziraphale’s wrist slips from his hand, and he misses the warmth of it, the softness of his fingers where they had rested against his pulse. He prepares himself for the inevitable, for Aziraphale to mention how much work he has to do with an expectant look that tells Crowley the evening is over.

But Aziraphale doesn’t, just turns onto his side, props his head on one hand. Crowley can see him, through the onyx glass on the side of his glasses. Can see Aziraphale studying him, cataloguing things like the fussy old bibliophile he is.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale says with something akin to pity. It makes bile rise in Crowley’s throat. He doesn’t want pity, not for what he is. Especially not from Aziraphale. “I can’t imagine not being able to fly.”

“Yeah, well, part of being a demon. Lose your grace, lose your memories, clip your bloody wings.” Crowley’s eyes sting with tears he didn’t ask for. Still, they track down his face against his will. In a perfect world, the candlelight would be low enough Aziraphale doesn’t see.

The soft pad of a finger against his cheek tells him he isn’t so lucky.Aziraphale wipes a tear from Crowley’s face, soft and gentle, as though Crowley might break at any moment.

“Don’t want your damn pity, angel.”

“Not pity…” Aziraphale trails off, unable to say what it actually is. This thing that hangs heavy in the air between them every time they’re together will go unnamed, probably until the end of time. Crowley knows what he wants it to be, knows what it can’t possibly be.

Crowley curses himself for hoping, because those two things are the same.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #do it with style events #good omens reverse bang #coming soon!#my fic #photo

73 notes · View notes

rumor-imbris · 3 years

Note

Hello, Lady Connor! I want to ask out of unbearable, suffocating curiosity in my heart, even though in the previous post you already said to not mention "that certain comic". Could you please enlighten me about your view on that comic and what you despise about it? I would love to read your detailed thoughts about it even if just once. But if this is too triggering for you, I'm truly sorry for your discomfort and you don't need to answer it.

Hello, dear Anon and welcome ^-^ It's weird you naturally called me Lady Connor, as usually only my little fairy @giuliettaluce does. Well, I guess her magic put a spell on everybody here!!

If you really care to know, I'll answer, but brace yourself, it's going to be very long, almost an essay, because I can be very detailed about that comic being a failure in its every part. There's so much to say. You're right, as I mentioned before, it can trigger me, but I have attentively analized it and I know it makes not a single atom of sense. So nothing can actually bother me that much, don't worry ^_-

First of all, my general consideration of the AC Reflections comic issue #4, (yeah, that thing -.-) is that of a mere attempt to desperately make Bayek's remote vision through Senu's eyes a canon feature. It was created and published in 2017, the same year AC Origins was released and yes, they needed an excuse to make believe Connor's alleged daughter inherited a skill someone (who isn't even their direct ancestor!!) that lived 1700 years ago in ancient Egypt had! OMG, this should be funny enough, but I'll go on. Also, I think it was likely a carelessly arranged way to satisfy those AC3 fans demanding a "happy ending" for unlucky Connor (quite 5 years later, of course).

I'll better go step by step to figure out where to start from, seriously.

1) In the comic, when Otso Berg opens the file related to Connor, the scene is set in "1796: Upstate New York." Now this is chronologically and spacially incoherent and illogical. We see Connor still wears his assassin outfit in it, right? According to AC Initiates (2012) in 1804 Connor invites the Dominican assassin Eseosa at the Davenport homestead to provide him some advices and further training as he's involved in the leading of the Haitian Revolution. That's a really cool character, read about him, if you want!

So, until then Connor is still an assassin, probably the mentor (by now) of the Colonial Brotherhood. He still runs the homestead and he still commands the Aquila, I guess, he's the captain still. I calculated the distance between the homestead and the then upper NY frontier territories is approximately 260 miles (quite far nowadays with cars and planes as well). Then, why the hell should he have a family located in the forest upstate NY? It sounds very unconfortable to run back and forth to reach them and go back to take care of all the Brotherhood matters, doesn't it? Unless he knew about teleportation!!! Also, wow, he lives all alone in a nice massive villa with all the comforts of that time while his children and wife still live in a Native village constantly menaced by settlers wanting to steal their land? Beside the fact that Connor, at least in my point of view, seemed at last very familiar with european way of living by the end of the game, this leads us to the next point.

2) By the time the game and the comic are set (second half of 18th century), most of the East Coast Native tribes were facing the tragic and forced migration to western and northern territories (mostly towards Canada, protected by the British) because of all the consequences of the Revolutionary War (lost territories, failed alliances, settlers advancing and buying their lands and so on). So tells us history, unfortunately. It's a fact. And this is wisely showed to us in the AC3 main game when, after all the Kanien'kehá:ka tribes had left the territory around Connor's village (yes, even those near New York, to be clear) even Connor's own tribe at last migrates west, leaving an empty ghost village. They had remained all along to protect the secret temple, but in the end they as well were forced to leave. So, to me it's highly improbable that in upstate NY, one could still find a tribe and even if so, that Connor would let his family live there and risk their safety everyday.

3) The whole comic plot revolves around the fact that Io:nhiòte has a "special gift"... She inexplicably knows how to read the ground and find animal traces, she also can perform a perfect twisted acrobatic flip in the air and land unharmed to the ground. Do we know why? No, don't ask! xD She simply knows U.U, even if right after the next scene she slips and falls miserably down a cliff xD, but... ok!! Beside that, when Connor is far away to search for some water and is about to be attacked by a wolf hidden in the grass nearby, she sees the whole scene from the eyes of an eagle flying in the sky above her. As I said before, this reminds us of Bayek's (never clearly explained) ability to see through his eagle Senu's eyes and spot dangers and enemies. Now can you tell me why the hell this little girl has super powers and a skill Bayek had? As I said, they are not even directely related, as Bayek is not one of Desmond Miles' ancestor, we know him simply because Layla's new Animus is magical and can inexplicably read fragmented DNA from people who died a thousand years ago (it can also prepair coffee, I think!). So, where did she get that from? Magic? Mysteries of life? Convenient improbable connections for marketing's sake? We'll never know and you should simply accept that and ask no question!

4) From her height, way of speaking/moving/running, I assume Io:nhiòte is at least 8 years old, 8 - 9 minimum. She's the youngest of three siblings, who must be at least two years older than her and than each other (according to a human woman pregnancy timing!). If the comic events are set 12 years after the main game ending (1784, when Connor also starts to train the young ex-slave Patience Gibbs, arriving at the Davenport homestead with Aveline De Grandpré, according to AC IV Black Flag bonus mission with Aveline), so, this means that in that same year Connor must have found hastily the love of his life in a Native village (as if he was easy to open himself with other people after all he's been through), married her, impregnated her and seen her give birth to their first child, all in the same year when (let's not foget! xD) he still is the leader of the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood at the Davenport homestead training novices. Now, this may even be possible humanly speaking, (well, if you force the things a bit and hurry up!) but highly unlikely to happen!! xD

These are the main problems affecting the logic of the comic in my opinion, the points making its foundations crumble apart. Though I'm sure there are many little others to point out, such as Otso Berg "opening" Connor's files... like what? Where did those data come out from? I remember playing AC IV Black Flag and uncovering a file where Abstergo researchers themselves closed access to his memories as there was "nothing appealing to this character anymore"! So, if no more researches were conducted on him since 2013, where did Mr Berg magically or conveniently discovered such data in 2017?

Or... do we want to talk about the cover? It shows Connor in the spirit outfit from the Tyranny of King Washington DLC, which has apparently nothing to do with the comic, since it is set in his present day and he wears his assassin standard robe. Now, I think that can be either a simple marketing choice to make the comic more appealing, as... well, that cover is so cool, let's admit that, or maybe the subtle suggestion that the events told in it are just a parallel Disney-like reality and are not to be considered true at all! xD i don't know, maybe both explanations are right.

I'm sure that the deeper i dig, the more nothing rational I'll find!

If you played the old games, if you know well the franchise and its lore, the true, good, old AC lore, you definitely realize by yourself how that comic is useless and senseless.

This doesn't mean I do not wish an "happy ending" for Connor. But I'd rather accept something coherent with the main game events and AC chronology. Also, it doesn't necessarily needs to be a "happy" ending, as they conveniently created to please complaining fans. I wished for something real... coherent with his personality, acquired life-style and endless sense of duty and values.

Maybe that's what pushed me to write my FanFic novel in the first place, after all... To give him MY OWN cohesive ending, including my love, for love is always needed, I guess.

I'm so sorry if the answer took this long in time and words, but you were warned! ^w^

Though, thank you... Seriously, thank you so much for asking. You made me reflect once more about this matter.

Come visit me again, if you want. Take care

- Rumor Imbris 🦋

P.S. Oh, and if you're interested, this is my "jelousy song", for when things like this trigger my inner witch!! xD

#ask #ask me anything #I Am the Storm!!!!#AC3 Reflections #why it sucks #why it makes no sense #thanks for asking #anon ask

12 notes · View notes