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vanessamooney · 1 month

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The Age of Us pt. 1 - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Glimpses into your lives through the years

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Part 2

Part 3 coming soon!

In First Year you're a ball of glimmering potential. You're staring wide eyed at the brilliant castle before you from the boat house and on the walk up a little Draco is trailing behind you, holding up your robes to prevent them from dragging in the mud. You don't even notice the sweet gesture as you spend the climb up rambling to him about how excited you are to begin learning about magic, bouncy as ever with a smile wider than he's ever been able to draw out from you. Not even his mother's white peacocks at Malfoy Manor brought out such a smile from you, nor the time years ago when you two rolled down the hill on your family's estate, covered in twigs and wrestling in a pile of dried leaves, giggly as ever.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Draco watches proudly as his girl is sorted into Slytherin house, and he welcomes you with a radiant smirk as you trot over to the house table and seat yourself right next to him. He watches eagerly as Potter and that blasted orange haired Weasley boy are called out next, moping methodically along to the sorting hat, watching them with a glare he reserved for the mud-bloods his father would point out on trips to Diagon Alley. He hopes Potter will be sorted into Slytherin, after all, 'connections are key' Lucius would say and who better a connection than the chosen one?

'Oh Draco,' You tut, 'look at the sky!' you're in awe at the ceiling which you've only just noticed, the enchantments were executed so gracefully if you hadn't of read Hogwarts, A History before the year began you would've had no clue the great hall ever had a roof.

He looked at you with the same dirty expression sculpted on his face that he had given Potter through the ceremony, stuck like cement, but when he noticed your doughy lips parted in wonder, he reached over and with a nimble finger, he closed your mouth for you, leaving you blushing a tomato red.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Up! Up! Up!'

You're standing over your broom, watching the other kids stand in organised lines across from you in the fields, succeeding with calling their brooms to them. Draco had succeeded on the first try, of course, and you're embarrassed to be one of the last people whose brooms have still not so much moved from their original position.

He catches your eye and gives you a sympathetic look, crossing his lips into a firm line. The broom in his hand is tossed carelessly to the ground and he makes a leap towards you, his hands reaching to tenderly adjust your arm in another position.

Draco had received lessons over the Summer and was already worrying his mother as he hastily flew around the Manor windows on the shiny Nimbus Lucius insisted he needed. You watched him on warm Spring afternoons with your feet firmly planted on the ground in the grassy meadows as he perfected his flying, your hands busy with knitting because 'a little girl like yourself needn't fly,' as your mother had so often reminded you when you dared to ask.

'There, try with your hands like that, and say it firmly,' Your best friend instructed you, watching your worried eyes and flushed cheeks.

'I don't know Draco, maybe I just can't fly,' you confess, worried that really was the possibility.

'Just try,' he furrowed his brows, 'for me?'

You shakily nod your head, the last one on the field now without a complying broom. The Longbottom boy had now been escorted to the hospital wing by Madam Hooch and you hoped such a thing wouldn't happen to you but Draco seemed to read your mind when he notices your wandering eyes.

'Just look at me, look at my eyes, Y/N,' he began, rubbing your shoulders 'Don't focus on anything else,'

You gulped, staring into him with an openess you reserved only for him 'Up!'

The broom snaps into your hand and you squeal in excitement, throwing it away as quickly as it flys to you and embracing Draco in a hug so tight he could barely breathe.

You don't notice the glares the two of you received from Potter and his gang, but Draco does, giving them an equally dirty look before marching over to the remembrall that had rolled over and snatching it right off the ground.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

There was a troll on the loose in the castle and you've been escorted back to the Slytherin dorms by the Head boy and girl. Everyone had gone up into their respective dormitories in fear of being taken by the ghastly monster but you had tugged on Draco's sleeves with puppy dog eyes and begged him to stay in the common room and play a game of friendly wizard's chess with you.

He sighs and rolls his blue eyes to the back of his skull but reluctantly agrees and you sit warm by the fire on a bear hide rug. The chess board is nestled between the two of you and Draco instinctively goes to grab the white King but you start to sulk.

'Oh Draco, please, can I be white this time?' you beg, looking up at him with the biggest and glassiest eyes you could possibly muster. How could he say no?

'Ugh, you just want to be white because you want to use the Wayward Queen opening, you always use that one,' he retaliates, pressing the white King into your little hands.

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

You blow him a raspberry and make your first move. Pawn to E4.

'Ah hah!' He exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at you with a light scowl brushed on his features, tussling his air with his other hand in frustration. 'You're doing it! You're doing the same opening!'

You give him a ghastly stare and with a swing of your arm you knock over all of the chess pieces, huffing and puffing as they spread fallen all over the board.

'Fine! Stay down here and get eaten by the troll then!' You hiss at him, and run up to your dorm room to scream into your pillow.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're sitting in the first potions class of the year, listening to Professor Snape lecture Harry about not listening after watching him methodically take notes on the Professor's wise words from a couple rows away. You weren't able to get a seat next to Draco at the front of the class and you silently thanked this luck, having boasted about how much you've studied all Summer in preparations for potions and knowing Draco had not read even a single passage.

You sat next to a bushy haired Gryffindor girl called Lavender who weary looked in a mirror and you smirked as you watched Draco's ivory head listening to Snape assign the first task ever: brewing a common poison antidote. When Snape announces the winning pair will receive 5 points each to their respective houses your eyes twinkle with anticipation.

You leave your partner behind to gather the ingredients for the potion: Bezoar, mistletoe berries and a unicorn horn. You bump into Draco in front of the ingredient cupboard, and beam at him proudly.

'I read about this potion in the potions book,' you smile sweetly up at him, purposefully brushing against him as you shove to grab the vials. 'It should be a piece of pie,' you laugh accusingly, standing as tall as your short legs allow you to.

'Good luck,' Draco laughs vacantly, handing you a unicorn horn from the top shelf you couldn't reach. His fingers brush against yours and you scoff, heading back to your cauldron.

Lavender is sat twirling the knife on its tip on the chopping board as if she'd never seen the utensil before and in the time you were gone had managed to spill water just about everywhere, wetting your parchment and bleeding the ink of the potion recipe.

'My goodness,' You exclaim, rushing to take away the knife and wipe up the water, 'have you two left hands?'

You watch the potion brew and bubble as it cooks, anxiously tracking the time with an hourglass. When the final grains of sands trickle through the narrowed passage, you hastily reach for the unicorn horn you powdered earlier and your heart sinks when you see your partner already poised over the cauldron, a pinch of the precious powder between her fingertips. She carefully sprinkles it into the cauldron and you watch in horror as a noxious cloud of black smoke billows forth and envelops you both in char.

'How many pinches did you put in?' You scream, wiping the soot from your eyes.

'Two,' Lavender whimpers, eyes stinging from the cloud.

'It was meant to be ONE!'

Everyone in the class is now giggling at your misfortunes and Professor Snape has now come over to see what all the commotion is about.

'You two better clean that up right now,' Snape chastised in his nasally voice, condemning you to blush in shame beneath the soot on your cheeks.

As Snape made his rounds, meticulously examining the colors of each potion, his scrutiny lingered noticeably longer on Draco's cauldron. The pungent aroma that emanated from Draco's concoction filled the classroom, matching the textbook's description exactly, causing you to wince involuntarily.

'Malfoy, Zabini, 10 points to Slytherin,' Snape announces.

Draco's triumphant gaze locks onto you as he revels in his perceived victory in the silent competition between the two of you. With a mocking laugh, he directs his attention to your soot-streaked face, his expression one of haughty satisfaction as he proudly asserts his well-deserved win with a piercing stare.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Eyes drifting over to Pansy Parkinson you can't help but notice she is staring at your best friend, and you don't like it. You're in Charms class with Professor Flitwick and you're sitting a few seats down from Draco who is stuffed in-between his minions and looking increasingly annoyed from the class introduction Flitwick is moping on about. Pansy has painted on herself an innocent expression she only wore around Draco and you wished you could shake her until the ribbons came undone and her mask fell off.

Despite her Pureblooded nature and family status, you couldn't rid the feeling of unease whenever she was around and sharing a dorm with her turned to be nothing short of a Lovecratian nightmare. There was something about her that set your teeth on edge. You wanted to pry off her veil and examine her flaws beneath a microsope; you wanted to disect her and unravel the intricacies that made you burn with an inextinguishable fire.

You gaped at her when she cheered on Draco who had quickly succeeded in levitating his feather, leaning over the desk so far you thought she would topple right over and end head first in the middle of the classroom, bouncing on her horribly cut bob upside down and out of the classroom window and into the grounds. You imagined it so vividly you started to chuckle to yourself and didn't even realise Draco had been beckoning you with the usual smirk you loved across the desk.

Pansy looked at him eagerly, daydreaming about her name dancing on Draco's tongue rather than yours and she blushed a million shades of red when she realised she was drooling slightly from the corner of her mouth. You shot her a look of disdain, features twisting haughty from her sopping desperation. She knew that you had won - as did you -knowing it was your name on his lips, not hers.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Potter,' You're seething through your teeth, acknowledging his dreadful existence as you and Draco pass him on the way to the Quidditch fields. You're dressed head to toe in green, showing support for your house. Draco's Slytherin scarf is wrapped securely around your neck, flowing behind you in the wind and you delight in his scent. You can't help but watch Harry in pure disgust, not because you hate him by proxy, but because Draco should be seeker, not him and it wasn't fair.

'Rosier,' He starts back, his eyes narrowing to a squint at the two of you for an instant before he hurries back to the safety of the rest of the Gryffindor team. Malfoy smirks at you proudly, leading you to the Slytherin seating area with a gentle hand on the small of your back, luxuriating in seeing his scarf around your neck.

And when all of Hogwarts watches Harry reveal he has caught the golden snitch, you feel nauseous and you can only think back to all of the nights you spent comforting Draco when he found out Harry had made the team. You scowl, your fingers sliding down to find Draco's beneath the bench and you squeeze them hard. It should've been him.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You wake up in a panicked sweat, the hair on your face sticking on your damp skin. You feel tears sliding down your plump cheeks and you reach up to wipe them away but they won't stop. Nightmares invaded your dreams, mercilessly rocking you awake in a sea of no hope. When you look around your sleeping quarters, you see strange figures in the form of your wardrobe, capes draped across armchairs and coat stands twice your height. Your dormmates are sleeping peacefully In their own beds, their light puffs of air comforting you - but it wasn't enough. You needed Draco.

Gulping, you manage to place your wobbly feet on the floorboards and wrap a Slytherin blanket around your tiny figure, tip-toeing out of the room without causing anyone else to lose sleep. You left the girls a silent prayer for their safety and you snuck down the stairs.

The common room was now empty in the middle of the night, the hot fire still roaring its song to warm the unforgiving dungeons the Slytherin house called home but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of being watched by prying eyes and you squeaked with the floorboards, rushing up the stairs opposite and straight to Draco's dorm.

You padded on the door softly with care to not wake the wrong occupant. You whispered his name more times than you could count, counting instead the hot tears that flew to the ground from your leaky eyes. When the door opens revealing a half-asleep Draco he knows right away to open his arms and hold you tight, and that is exactly what he did. That night he inhales your sweet scent and whispers sweet nothings into your ear, lulling the bad dreams away.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Snow topples from the sky and for the first time in your life you're happy about it. Christmas break came and went all too soon and now in front of you lies the vast whiteness of Winter. She covers Hogwarts in a thick blanket and you sink in it's softness, snow filling your boots and socks.

'Ah!', you jump around from the chill, pausing Draco is his steps as he's foraging for a stick to finish the snowman the two of you had spent all afternoon building. He lets out a hearty chuckle directed at you when you point to your boots, mouthing 'wet' and pouting with your pillowy lips.

He is stifling a laugh as he goes back to searching for the perfect twig and you don't feel content at this reaction. Without a single further thought, your gloves pawed into the sheath around you and formed a perfectly round globe of snow. You eyed your target meticulously, catching the eyes of Blaise and Pansy in the process and before Pansy could warn her precious Draco, you've already belted the snowball at him and watched as it exploded into dust on his back.

Draco whips back to see you howling in laughter, bracing yourself with your hands clutching your thighs, the pom of your beanie shaking erratically. He frowns, glancing over to his friends who shrug their shoulders at him, and while Blaise sends a cheeky smile, Pansy is mouthing your name and pointing to you crudely.

'Hey!' he yells, abandoning the stick he spent oh so long looking for and creating his own balls of destruction. He was going to make you regret this.

That afternoon you all walked back to the castle covered in snow and ice, hair wet and lips pink but you silently wished the day would have never ended and you replayed it over and over in your head that night, cackling silently when the image of Draco's scowl turned into a mischievous grin and it all lingered in your mind.

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travelingneuritis · 10 months

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i’m sure ppl have said this better but i can’t stop thinking about the peacock-bashing in mdzs. it’s obvious that wwx is really the ringleader, and jiang cheng, like... agrees? goes along with it? but is also willing to see reason and to change his mind when it becomes clear that a. jin zixuan isn’t irredeemable trash, he’s just rich and kinda awkward and b. he’s the one yanli wants, so it doesn’t really matter WHAT he thinks, if he can’t play nice all he’ll do is make someone he loves sad.

jiang cheng’s willingness to grow is pretty clear and one of my favorite things about him (and really influences how i interpret the stuff he says/ppl say about him re: the yiling patriarch post-res, and is why i side-eye a lot of the more ungenerous fandom takes on his character). But i can’t help but wonder about wei wuxian, who is still doggedly shit talking jin zixuan in his head even after murdering him and widowing yanli. there are a ton of reasons he feels he has to drag his old grievances around like a dog dragging around its motheaten, crusty old comfort-toy, but i also think he just felt more threatened by jin zixuan than jiang cheng ever did. yanli was always going to be jiang cheng’s sister, but madam yu made damn sure wei wuxian never felt like yanli was really his own. jiang cheng could afford to be gracious, even when he didn’t want to be, because he couldn’t REALLY lose yanli, not even to marriage, not even when it felt like any separation would be a form of death. wei wuxian could lose her too easily, because he understood that he only got to be her brother on sufferance-- that she was never really his to begin with. to him, jin zixuan wasn’t just the pompous peacock coming to spoil playtime; to him, jin zixuan must have felt like an existential threat. and wei wuxian only knows one way to respond to real or perceived existential threats: with teeth you have to break his jaw to fight off.

#these are not good qualities of wwx's but they are interesting ones #i continue. to be so fascinated by him. such a broken bone. set so wrong #wwx #mdzs meta

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linguisticdiscovery · 8 months

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Ways English borrowed words from Latin

Latin has been influencing English since before English existed!

Here’s a non-exhaustive list of ways that English got vocabulary from Latin:

early Latin influence on the Germanic tribes: The Germanic tribes borrowed words from the Romans while still in continental Europe, before coming to England.

camp, wall, pit, street, mile, cheap, mint, wine, cheese, pillow, cup, linen, line, pepper, butter, onion, chalk, copper, dragon, peacock, pipe, bishop

Roman occupation of England: The Celts borrowed words from the Romans when the Romans invaded England, and the Anglo-Saxons later borrowed those Latin words from the Celts.

port, tower, -chester / -caster / -cester (place name suffix), mount

Christianization of the Anglo-Saxons: Roman missionaries to England converted the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity and brought Latin with them.

altar, angel, anthem, candle, disciple, litany, martyr, mass, noon, nun, offer, organ, palm, relic, rule, shrine, temple, tunic, cap, sock, purple, chest, mat, sack, school, master, fever, circle, talent

Norman Conquest: The Norman French invaded England in 1066 under William the Conqueror, making Norman French the language of the state. Many words were borrowed from French, which had evolved out of Latin.

noble, servant, messenger, feast, story, government, state, empire, royal, authority, tyrant, court, council, parliament, assembly, record, tax, subject, public, liberty, office, warden, peer, sir, madam, mistress, slave, religion, confession, prayer, lesson, novice, creator, saint, miracle, faith, temptation, charity, pity, obedience, justice, equity, judgment, plea, bill, panel, evidence, proof, sentence, award, fine, prison, punishment, plead, blame, arrest, judge, banish, property, arson, heir, defense, army, navy, peace, enemy, battle, combat, banner, havoc, fashion, robe, button, boots, luxury, blue, brown, jewel, crystal, taste, toast, cream, sugar, salad, lettuce, herb, mustard, cinnamon, nutmeg, roast, boil, stew, fry, curtain, couch, screen, lamp, blanket, dance, music, labor, fool, sculpture, beauty, color, image, tone, poet, romance, title, story, pen, chapter, medicine, pain, stomach, plague, poison

The Renaissance: The intense focus on writings from classical antiquity during the Renaissance led to the borrowing of numerous words directly from Latin.

atmosphere, disability, halo, agile, appropriate, expensive, external, habitual, impersonal, adapt, alienate, benefit, consolidate, disregard, erupt, exist, extinguish, harass, meditate

The Scientific Revolution: The need for new technical and scientific terms led to many neoclassical compounds formed from Classical Greek and Latin elements, or new uses of Latin prefixes.

automobile, transcontinental, transformer, prehistoric, preview, prequel, subtitle, deflate, component, data, experiment, formula, nucleus, ratio, structure

Not to mention most borrowings from other Romance languages, such as Spanish or Italian, which also evolved from Latin.

Further Reading: A history of the English language (Baugh & Cable)

#Latin #etymology #linguistics #language #history #borrowing #lingblr #langblr

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chic-a-gigot · 5 months

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La Mode illustrée, no. 51, 23 décembre 1877, Paris. Toilettes de Madame Fladry, 43, rue Richer. Collection of the Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

Toilette d'intérieur. Robe princesse en tissu de laine jardinière nuance ardoise. La garniture se compose d'un large galon fond noir, bordé de plusieurs teintes pareilles aux couleurs du tissu de laine; ce galon est posé de façon à simuler sur le corsage une sorte de plastron, et sur la jupe un assez long paletot, et sur le bord inférieur des manches un haut revers. Sous le bord inférieur de la robe princess se trouve un volant plissé de même étoffe; au-dessus de ce volant, la jupe est quelque peu drapée sur le côté gauche sous un large nœud de ruban.

Toilette de visites. Le devant de la robe, depuis le cou jusqu'aux pieds, est fait en satin olive. Le corsage est plat, les devants sont légèrement bouillonnés. La grande polonaise, ouverte sur le devant de satin, est faite en velours ciselé olive et nuance paon; le devant des manches est en ce même velours, et leur dessous en satin. Un biais de satin olive borde tous les contours de la polonaise. Sous la polonaise, fendue sur les côtés, se trouve un faux jupon couvert de satin, lequel apparaît entre les fentes.

—

Indoor ensemble. Princess dress in slate shade garden wool fabric. The trim consists of a large black braid, bordered with several shades similar to the colors of the wool fabric; this braid is placed in such a way as to simulate a sort of plastron on the bodice, and on the skirt a fairly long overcoat, and on the lower edge of the sleeves a high lapel. Under the lower edge of the princess dress is a pleated flounce of the same fabric; above this flounce, the skirt is somewhat draped on the left side under a large ribbon bow.

Visiting ensemble. The front of the dress, from the neck down, is made of olive satin. The bodice is flat, the fronts are slightly bubbled. The large polonaise, open on the satin front, is made in olive and peacock shade chiseled velvet; the front of the sleeves is in this same velvet, and their underside in satin. A bias of olive satin borders all the contours of the polonaise. Under the polonaise, slit on the sides, is a false petticoat covered in satin, which appears between the slits.

#La Mode illustrée #19th century #1870s #1877 #on this day #December 23 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #Forney #dress #princess

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robininthelabyrinth · 1 year

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Prompt 1: Along with forming a golden core most cultivators gain the ability to shapeshift. What they shift into depends on the cultivator, but there are certain tendencies in bloodlines. Jiang Cheng has shifted exactly once in absolute privacy. He didn't stay shifted after finding scales and claws instead of feathers and wings, some sort of reptile from the Yu bloodline. He's since been pretending not to be able to shift at all, but you can only deny your nature for so long.

ao3

The children of Jiang sect were supposed to be birds.

It was part and parcel of everything they were, everything they stood for, the history of their sect reaching back for generations. Their ancestors had bid their descendants to attempt the impossible, and their filial descendants lived up to their command – they spread their wings and flew freely in the air, unstoppable. They lived as freely as they flew, living according to their own inclinations and wishes, and in so doing thrived in all respects.

Naturally, living so close to the water, the most common type of bird for a Jiang sect disciple to shift into once they were old enough to form their golden cores was a duck. It was so common so as to be a joke in the cultivation world: how are the Jiang temperaments so good? It’s because they treat everything like water off a duck’s back!

But you didn’t have to be a duck, of course; there were plenty of other types of bird. You could be a falcon with sharp talons, like Wei Wuxian – who wasn’t even a real Jiang! – or a beautiful songbird, like Jiang Yanli, or any type of bird from the many that were Jiang Cheng’s shidi, from the humble pigeon to the brilliant parrot and back. You could even be a peacock, if you just so happened to have some Jin sect blood in you – there was a reason Jiang Yanli’s match with the Jin sect heir was so popular with everyone in the sect, even putting aside the political benefits of it. All the old women were sighing all day over what beautiful children they’d have one day, with such lovely plumage.

No, in the Jiang sect, you could be anything…as long as it could fly.

The Yu sect weren’t birds.

That was how Jiang Cheng’s father had been able to resist marriage with his mother for so long – the Yu sect were grounds-people, powerful and admirable in all respects but not quite to the taste of the Jiang sect. They were snakes and scorpions, spiders and serpents. The Violent Spider lived up to her name, turning into a small creature that was both flashy and deadly, filled with venom, beautiful in its own way…but that way was not the Jiang sect’s way.

It wasn’t a complete rule, of course, or else Jiang Cheng’s parents wouldn’t have gotten married at all. Plenty of people in the Jiang sect, following their hearts freely, married people who weren’t birds, choosing to carry their loved ones with them in their hearts as they flew – after all, weren’t they all cultivators? Even if you couldn’t fly in your shifted form, you could soar on a sword.

But it was better to be able to fly naturally.

If you could fly on your own, shifted, then that meant you had the Jiang sect heart. It meant you didn’t need to rely on anyone else to fly for you…it meant you didn’t have to be in anyone’s heart to reach the sky.

(Jiang Cheng’s mother was called Madame Yu, even when she ought to be Madame Jiang. Wasn’t that because everyone, including her, knew that she didn’t live in the heart of her husband the sect leader whenever he took to the air?)

Jiang Cheng had dreamt of flight ever since he was a child. He didn’t care what type of bird he’d be, whether sharp or soft, big or small, as long as he could get into the air. When he first learned how to fly on his sword, he barely spent any time on the ground, always wasting his spiritual energy puttering around enthusiastically.

And then he’d gotten old enough to hear the whispers.

His temperament is like his mother’s. Always sharp and scolding! Always thinking too much! How can he fly free like a Jiang? He has too many cares, tying him down to the ground. It’s good to be responsible, but not to the point where you no longer follow the sect’s path. He’s just too much.

I bet he’s not even a bird at all.

Wei Wuxian had never paid any mind to any of them and told Jiang Cheng to do the same, but it was easy for him to say, the genius that understood the Jiang sect motto down to his bones. The very same day he formed his golden core he turned himself into a falcon and dashed into the air, free and proud, faster than all the rest of them. Not like Jiang Cheng.

Not at all like Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng, who waited until he was all alone to try to shift, not telling anyone, and who recoiled in horror when he saw the flash of scale instead of feather that appeared on his skin – he didn’t even bother completing the full shift, fleeing back to the safety of human flesh. There wasn’t any point in finishing the shift. After all, if he wasn’t able to fly, could he even call himself a Jiang?

He pretended instead that he was just indifferent to the shift. Who needed it, anyway? It was so frivolous! He could fly just as well on a sword, and work on his cultivation in the meantime. Shifting was just a waste of time. If his father was disappointed, or more disappointed than usual, he didn’t say it; his mother, who had previously expressed some interest in his shift, dropped the subject so gracefully that he didn’t even realize it for months and months. Only Wei Wuxian still pestered him, and him Jiang Cheng already knew how to refute.

He didn’t shift. He didn’t see the point.

He didn’t shift at the Cloud Recesses.

He didn’t shift when he came home.

He didn’t –

“You’ll have to go in your animal forms,” his mother said as the Lotus Pier burned behind them. Her face was stern as anything, looking down at the two of them in that horrible boat she’d forced them on, Zidian binding and compelling them. “It’s the only way for you to escape notice.”

“No – no –” Jiang Cheng cried, resisting, even as Wei Wuxian’s resistance collapsed and he turned into that falcon again, unwillingly soaring into the sky with a collar of purple lightning around his neck dragging him as if by a chain. “Mother…!”

“Go!”

Jiang Cheng shifted.

Just like the first time, the scales came first, and he lowered his head, not wanting to see his mother’s disappointed expression – he knew, and she knew, and he knew that she knew, but knowing was one thing and seeing was another. He didn’t want to see her expression when it was confirmed that he was her son in truth, and in so being, was no true Jiang.

After the scales came, his body began to lengthen, his arms shrinking, and he assumed he would fall to the ground and shrink the way Wei Wuxian did – except he didn’t.

He got bigger.

His arms got smaller, but they didn’t disappear. His mouth spread across his face, but his teeth grew larger, curling out from his jaw, and from his brow he could feel horns appearing.

What in the world…?

“Oh, my son,” his mother whispered, and when Jiang Cheng looked up at her in surprise, he found that her always-steely eyes were suddenly wet. “Thank you for letting me see you fly.”

Jiang Cheng felt his body uncurl, Zidian compelling him, and he leapt into the sky, body flowing behind him like a ribbon in the breeze – he was his mother’s son, scales and all, but he was a Jiang, too.

The Jiang sect were supposed to be birds.

Jiang Cheng had been disappointed in himself when he wasn’t, but he’d forgotten that he’d never much cared about being a bird.

He’d only wanted to fly.

The dragon in the air above the Jiang sect, purple lightning dragging him away, threw his head back and roared, promising vengeance when he returned.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #madame yu #my fic #my fics #still posting the old stuff #thanks for bearing with me

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—rhythm lines; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x f!reader | grishaverse | 1,8k words. ʚ from this ask. | reader is a stage dancer who catches the attention of the dirtyhands himself. ʚ ooc kaz he is so straightforward in this one; bad knowledge of stage dancing; alcohol consumption. ʚ a/n i added in a courtesan-type persona for the reader, i hope you don't mind. this is slightly long. ive been reading a couple of novels with stage dancers as part of the main cast.

The music starts, booming and loud—a cacophony of instruments that cues you and the four other dancers into a flow of eight-count movements. In your head, you're counting your steps. High-heeled shoes tap tap tapped against the polished hardwood stage. You can't quite make out most of the faces of your audience, obscured in shadows by the overwhelmingly bright stage lights, but when you stand in front of the formation, you flash a million-kruge smile.

A loud cheer erupts.

You suddenly feel very much alive.

You may have done the routine countless times since your employment at the Golden Peacock, but each time you set foot on stage, the rush of exhilaration stays the same. It makes your heart pound as your limbs move purposefully, an extension of your body as you continue to follow the counts and music.

The light dims and the music flows into a slower pace. Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement. Then, as the stage light moves away from you, you spot him. A hat casts a shadow over his face, but you know him. His head tilts up slightly and from across the theatre, your eyes lock.

Kaz Brekker is watching your show? The Dirtyhands himself?

You shoot your practised smile and turn, still following the dance routine you've practised, until you hear a booming crack and the lights suddenly die out.

It's immediately followed by shrieks of panic. A burning smell permeates the air. You feel one of your colleagues grabbing onto your elbow. This cannot be a coincidence. Brekker most likely has something to do with it, does he not? But he is aware that the Golden Peacock, the establishment he's setting his foot in, forbids any sort of gang activity. This is neutral territory.

It doesn't take a minute for the lights to come back on. Your eyes scan over the crowd and he's right there, sitting on the third row from the front, appearing as nonchalant as ever.

The manager of the shows, Madam de Vries, steps on stage with a microphone and announces that everything is under control and performance will resume shortly. Your eyes narrow at Kaz Brekker and he's staring back at you, dark eyes betraying no emotions.

As the music starts playing once more and you take position, you find yourself being unexplicably drawn to his presence—your eyes sweep over the audience, only to linger on him a beat too long and every time you catch he's staring back at you, as if he's been looking at you the whole time.

The curtains fall and you step off the stage as the claps and cheers slowly fade away. After the show, performers usually lounge around on the first floor where there's an attached bar to the theatre. The dancers socialise with their patrons, pour a drink or two to coax tips out of them. You're usually looking forward to the evening chat, but it seems the incident really caused quite a scare and festivities are dying down before it even begins.

You sigh, hauling your satchel on your shoulder and make your way out of the Golden Peacock. Your costume is stuffed in your bag as you've opted for a more comfortable casual attire. Walking out of the side door, you find yourself face-to-face with the Dirtyhands himself.

You see him, but say nothing, immediately walking past. You don't know each other, really. Ghezen, this is the first time you've seen him in the Golden Peacock.

“You're one of the dancers.”

It stops you on your tracks. Your body twists to look back at him. “And you're talking to... me?”

Your voices echo slightly in the small alley. He nods, gloved hands gesturing to the emptiness around him. “Is there anyone else I could be talking to?”

Well, not exactly. Unless he finds dumpsters entertaining conversation partners.

“Then, yes, I'm one of the dancers,” you reply, turning on your heel to face him completely. He takes a couple steps closer to you, careful not to step on the numerous puddles left by the horrible Ketterdam weather as of late.

“The performance was wonderful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brekker.”

“Kaz is fine.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side. “Mr. Brekker is fine.”

There are implications within your reply: you are not quite at first name basis and you don't want to cross that border of professionalism with him yet. He is, after all, the Dirtyhands. An intimidating figure in the barrel with entirely too much power for someone so young. A word from him can make or break anyone in this part of Ketterdam.

Perhaps you should've been more amicable.

He raises his hands in a surrendering manner, one of them is clutching the crow-headed cane he's known for. “Whatever suits you. What about yours?”

“Mine?”

“Your name.”

You tell him your name and he helps himself to calling you by your first name. He has no regards for professionalism. Not when it comes to you.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he says. “Would you like me to walk you?”

You shake your head immediately. “I'll be alright, Mr. Brekker. Nice to meet you, as well.”

With that, you swiftly walk away. Associating yourself with gang members is one thing, but with the leaders? That has to come with a lot of downsides.

You've come to find out that a painting was stolen that evening. A landscape, they say. Worth three million kruge. You wouldn't be surprised if it's sitting nice and pretty on the wall of Brekker's office. You feign ignorance, of course. Tittle-tattle never ends well in this part of Ketterdam. Not unless one wants a target on their back.

When you enter the dressing room, you see an oversized flower arrangement by your vanity. Tess, your colleague, looks at you as if she's been eagerly anticipating your arrival.

“Ghezen,” she says. “Brekker, huh? And I thought I took risky clients.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about?”

Her head tilts towards the flowers. A series of roses and hydrangeas and carnations stacked inside a basket that takes up the whole surface of the vanity desk. In the middle of it is a hand-written note.

Looking forward to tonight's performance. I'm not sure what your preferrence on flowers are. Perhaps we can discuss it after the show. —Kaz.

You look at Tess, mouth agape, and then back down at the note. Your eyes scanning the letters repeatedly.

“Am I reading this correctly?”

Tess chuckles. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“We don't—” You're not entirely sure how to phrase it. “We're only acquaintances.”

“It doesn't appear so.”

You look at Tess—and the flowers—and back at Tess again.

“It doesn't,” you relent.

It's a new routine—the steps are slower, music more melancholic, but the performance hypnotises the crowd all the same. When you're lounging around the first floor of the Golden Peacock, a drink on hand, many come to pay compliments for the show. You smile, entertain the small talks and crack a couple of jokes.

“Excuse me.” You give a conspiratory grin as you step back from a conversation. Across the room, sitting at the bar, is Kaz Brekker, who's practically staring holes into you. Your dress flows behind you as you swiftly make your way towards him.

“Evening,” you greet, sliding into the seat next to him. He nods at you. “Thank you for the flowers.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Don't mention it. Although I do wonder if you have any preferences? Lilies, perhaps?”

“I've never given it much thought, but i do like jasmines.”

“Jasmines, then,” he says.

“Do you send flowers to people in your free time?”

“Well, not people, only you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Charming.”

“If I were to ask you to dinner, what would you say?”

“Well, Mr. Brekker—”

“Kaz.”

“Kaz,” you relent. “I would consider it.”

He takes a sip of his drink. “I hope you do.”

With that, he leaves quietly, and it's like he was never there at all, except for the fact that you find your eyes keep darting around the room at similar silhouettes, at every curved hat and black coat. Even the drinks don't quite wash away the effects of his presence.

This is the third time this week.

On your weekend show, as you're moving across the stage, shoes clicking and arms following precise movements you've practised, you spot him again. Up on one of the private boxes, eyes drilling into you as he watches you and only you throughout the whole performance.

The flowers come every day without fail. Jasmines are the main part of the bouquet, along with a handwritten note encouraging you for your performances. The gesture is terribly sweet and you find yourself getting sentimental, starting to build quite a collection of the notes.

You've never been nervous—not when you've been doing this almost seven days a week for years, but lately, you find yourself tapping your foot on the ground, unable to settle before each performance, anxious whether or not you will find spot in the audience.

And when you don't find him, disappointment almost drowns you, making it harder to breathe in your corsets and feathery costumes.

You've never changed faster in your life, already making your way to the first floor even as Tess has barely started taking off her jewellery. Kaz Brekker has this effect on you, you've discovered. His presence calls for that giddiness—an anticipatory response to his very presence. You keep looking forward to conversing with him.

He looks dashing—usual dark coat and dark hat and dark vest over dark shirt. A couple of patrons seem to have taken interest in the Dirtyhands, perhaps clamouring in hopes of an alliance or just an attempt to make acquaintance with one of the most powerful gang leaders in the Barrell. Either way, he excuses himself immediately when he sees you.

“You're a marvel to witness on stage.”

“Flatterer.” You roll your eyes. “One of these days you'll run out of flattery.”

“For you? Never.”

“Can I take you up on the dinner offer?” You ask finally. Kaz seems taken aback, the offer has been left on the table for a little too long, but you're actually saying yes.

“Of course. When are you free?”

“Is right now okay?”

“I would've preferred it if I can make arrangements in advance,” he answers. Head already running through his plans. Restaurants. Flowers. After-dinner activities.

“We can save the arrangements for next time,” you suggest. “Spontaneous dinner can be quite lovely too, can't it?”

He bites back a smile with the insinuation of 'next time'. “With a lovely company, yes.”

He offers you his arm and you rest your hand in the crook of his elbow, skin warm on the soft material of his coat.

“Will I get to see the painting?”

He tilts his head quizzically.

“The first time you were here. You took it.” You lower your voice conspiratorily. “I want to see it.”

He gives you a small, lop-sided smile. “If that's what you wish.”

And there it is again—the anticipatory restlessness, giddy to see what he will offer you.

[ ]

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #—ki writes 🍯

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vampkomori · 3 months

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love that penacony is just a whole entire game of cluedo. we even have:

sparkle as miss scarlet

misha as mrs white (the maid/butler)

aventurine as mrs peacock

dr. ratio as prof plum

sunday as mr green (reverend/priest)

acheron as colonel mustard (military fighty..esque)

and lesser known roles i had to look up:

black swan as madame rose (fortune teller)

robin as miss peach (a "southern belle")

firefly as monsieur brunette (con artist posing as someone else)

gallagher as inspector grey (officer=bodyguard)

#sampo and tb arent included bc they werent introduced in penacony #it all lines up too well! its a game!!#it fits the dream theme also. if a players 'character' dies they can no longer play #they ARE dead. but also not really. its a game #which is why i dont think anyone will actually die for real. its a dream a game and if u die u have to be spectator from reality #hsr #honkai star rail #hehe... whodunnit #also i realized ratio was released a bit before. but come on hes literally a plum and probably has 50 phds #ruan mei can be dr. orchid even if shes currently irrelevant. fits as well! i cracked the code

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gogmstuff · 8 months

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Dinner and Evening Dresses of 1910 -

Left 1910 (December) Dinner dress by Beer, Les Modes - photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/page/14; fixed spots w Pshop 725X1920.

Right 1910 (December) Dinner dress by Maison Agnès, Les Modes - photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/page/23 fixed spots w Pshop 752X1920.

Left 1910 (August issue) Evening gown by Drecoll, photo Reutlinger. From les-modes.tumblr.com/image/519495531581280X1815.

Right 1910 (June) Eevening gown by Rivain & Cie, Les Modes - photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/page/27; fixed vertical flaws & spots w Pshop 682X1635

Left 1910 (May) Les Modes Evening gown by Bernard, photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/search/1910s; abated streaks & fixed spots w Pshop 1280X1811.

Right 1910 (May) Les Modes Evening gown by Laferriére. .From les-modes.tumblr.com/search/1910s/page/13 1000X1393.

Left. 1910 Baroness Gerda von Chappuis (Mrs F. A. Konig) by Sir John Lavery (auctioned by Christie's) From the discontinued Athenaeum Web site; cropped 679X980.

Right. 1910 Evening dress by ? (location ?). From sartorialadventure.tumblr.com 360X1200.

Left 1910 Evening dress by ? (location ?). From sartorialadventure.tumblr.com 709X1400.

Right 1910 Evening dress by House of Worth (location ?). From costumehistory.tumblr.com/post/180312871593/shewhoworshipscarlin-evening-dress-by-house-of 1280X1679.

Left 1910 Lady by Arthur von Ferraris (auctioned by Michael Zeller). From Wikimedia 714X1003.

Right 1910 Marie Cécile Ney d'Elchingen (1867-1960), wife of Joachim, 5th prince Murat by Giovanni Boldini (auctioned by Christie's). From their Web site 1718X3212.

Left 1910 Mrs. E. L. Doyen by Giovanni Boldini (private collection). From arthive.com/sl/artists/8960~Giovanni_Boldini/works/270437~Portrait_of_Madame_Doyen 1765X3600.

Right 1910 Mrs. Mabel Brooks of Kinmount by Sir Hubert von Herkomer (auctioned). From pinterest.com/ustava51/живописьженский-образ/ 1187X1920.

Left 1910 Peacock dress by ? (Metropolitan Museum of Art - New York City, New York, USA). From buzzfeed.com/deesims/10-stunning-gowns-to-reaffirm-the-belief-you-were-n5qq 638X1681.

Right 1910 Queen Mary photo signed May Posted to Foro Dinastias by Maravilha on 7 August 2010 1160X1600.

ca. 1910 Madame Duchesse Vendome and Prince Charles-Philippe d'Orléans by Boissonnas & Taponier. From eBay; fixed spots and removed mono-color tint 669X1067.

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eyes-that-decieve · 22 days

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There's a creaking sound as Faye's window is opened. She glances over, seeing a man in a green suit and a cat mask. His hair is curly and dark, and he has large wings with peacock coloration and patterning. He hops into the room, his faintly glowing blue eyes fixed on Faye.

*Faye looks up, the Madame hopping off her lap. She gestures to the door to her flat*

"There's a door, RIGHT THERE, by the way. You could've knocked."

*her wings appear to be a hyacinth macaw's, green quickly fading to dark blue on top and a slightly lighter blue on the underside. They are riddled with pin feathers and random thin spots. What fully formed feathers there are a iridescent, and shimmer in the light. She puffs them up, one moving protectively in front of madame*

"Why exactly, are you here?"

#tma rp #tma oc #oc rp #oc post #tma #the magnus archives #oc: faye #oc ask blog

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blondeaxolotl · 5 months

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Beastars Butler AU Character list

Made a list for my Red Butler/Swap AU, might as well make one for my Beastars au as well, just like the other list, this one will be updated more as I continue the au

o!Ciel Phantomhive - Harlequin rabbit

Sebastian Michaelis - Ibizan Hound

Mey-Rin - Cheetah

Finny - Alpaca

Baldroy - Brown bear

Tanaka - Mountain goat

Snake - Grey wolf/Python hybrid

Like I said, this list will be updated and more characters will be added and so on as I continue the au!!

r!Ciel Phantomhive - Harlequin rabbit

Vincent Phantomhive - Harlequin rabbit

Rachel Phantomhive - French rabbit

Madame Red - French rabbit

Elizabeth Midford - English lop

Edward Midford - Harlequin rabbit

Alexis Leon Midford - English lop

Francis Midford - Harlequin rabbit

Paula - Okapi

Undertaker - Komodo Dragon/Giant salamander hybrid

Grell Sutcliff - Savannah cat

William T. Spears - Swainson hawk

Ronald Knox -Thomsons Gazelle

Othello - Common squirrel monkey

Lau - Peacock

Ran-Mao - Black panther

Prince Soma - ring-tailed lemur

Agni - Akhal-teke (horse)

Claude Faustus - Doberman

Alois Trancy - Dall sheep

Hannah Annafellows - Mute Swan

Timber, Thompson, and Canterbury - Spotted Hyenas

Joker - Maned wolf

Dagger - Cheetah

Beast - Curly-coated retriever

Jumbo - Rhinoceros

Wendy and Peter - Canary birds

Doll/Freckles - Red Fox

Baron Kelvin - Cougar

Ash Landers - Arctic Fox

Angela Blanc - Arctic Fox

Charles Grey - Snowy Owl

Charles Phipps - Polar Bear

John Brown - Penguin

#Yeah making a list for this au as well so I can keep track better whoopeee #black butler beastars au #beastars butler au

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zedecksiew · 5 months

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Whirling Mummy One-shot

(Art by Sam Mameli)

Have been deathly ill for most of this month, with barely the focus to do anything. So I've been in the dumps.

Last Wednesday I ran a one-shot for my regular TTRPG group, just to feel like I could do something---anything. I didn't have much of a voice. Just a low rasp. So all my characters that night were kinda husky, sultry folks, the kind you might find in a bar.

Apopros to the game, I suppose. I ran the Whirling Mummy, a dance-hall adventure I created for Prismatic Wastelands' ENNIE-winning bar-crawl campaign setting, Barkeep On The Borderlands:

THE WHIRLING MUMMY Madam Smiling is the never-seen proprietress of The Whirling Mummy, an undead-themed dance hall, named after Madam Smiling's ancient, still-animate consort. + Before the Keep, before goblins lived in caves – a goddess cursed a king to dance. He danced all night, he danced all season. He danced and he died. They buried him dancing. He danced in his tomb of jade mosaic. A quake split the Iron Fens, and cracked his tomb, and spat him out dancing. Tonight, in the mummy's honour: a dance-off! Various crews compete to win their hearts' desire. There has never been a wish Madam Smiling could not grant.

+++

Got my players to make characters using Barkeep's evocative background packages. The party:

Frederick the Foppish Dandy, with a big hat, dueling pistol, and a wealthy fiance called Giorgio ("Georgie!");

Alejandra the Ebullient Dancer, with a tambourine, vial of poison, and her patron the noble chanteuse Lady Gaga;

Melan the Troubled Musician, with a flute, a cymbal-playing pet monkey, and a broken heart.

Serendipitously appropriate, for an adventure featuring a dance contest!

Melan decides they have history with Kril Mouser, leader of the club's musicians.

Ironically, Alejandra spends her whole night off the podium, gassing up the crowd to win over their support.

Frederick ("Freddie!") plays out a rivalry with one of competing dance crews: a trio of voguing toffs.

Freddie ends up being the night's star dancer. "This is the kind of music Frederick plays in his room," his player says:

youtube

+++

I rolled a new event for every turn / round of the dance-off, for maximum shenanigans:

A skeleton flapper loses her head on the dance floor. The Dancer turns that skull into a ball the cheering crowd can bounce around. Poor skelly!

A gang of electric-lute-wielding bards storm Kril Mouser's band stage in an attempt to take it over. Melan spends the round fighting them off, earning the musicians' favour. (Alejandra throws her skeleton skull, knocking a bard out.)

A paladin raid on the club for illegal necromancy. This coincides with the last round of the dance-off; Freddie is too drunk to continue, so Melan takes the stage, and duels Master Mocking Of A Million Eyes, the peacock demon and final boss.

Melan's player describes their dance as "Lizzo with a flute, but while performing a Celine-Dion-like ballad".

This means they beat an eldritch horror with a combination of this:

and this:

youtube

Nice.

+++

So the party won the dance-off. They are entitled to wishes from Madam Smiling.

Frederick asks to be the richest person in the world;

Alejandra wants to retroactively swap places with her patron Lady Gaga;

Melan selflessly asks for land back for the indigenous lizardfolk. (The industrial district in which the Whirling Mummy sits used to belong to the lizard-people; there were lizard nuns handing out pins outside the club.)

I was very pleased with this game. I think it was my first successful, self-contained one-shot? We played for about three hours, and I felt buoyed by endorphins after.

I love my players. Thank you Am, Ai and Vesha for playing with me; you have kept my love for this game stuff alive.

I lost my voice again, the next day.

+++

Final scene, one year later:

Melan is the opening act for a concert by Lady Alejandra, in a city ruled by Prince Frederick the First.

All of this happens a continent away; the city in which Barkeep is set has been totally erased. A trade agreement has been signed with the lizardfolk queendoms, however---and ambassadors report an incongruous-looking dance hall, in the middle of the marsh.

Inside, it is said, a mummy in jade shoes endlessly dances. Inside, it is said, a dance contest is held, and its prize is whatever your heart desires.

#fantasies #ttrpgs #barkeep on the borderlands #the whirling mummy #dancing #play reports

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