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hobiebrownbrowser · 10 months

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Opposites attract

Hobie Brown x Hippie/Fairy FEM!Reader

Summary:Y/N is like a Fairy cottagecore kind of person, pretty aesthetics all around their Fairy filled fantasies. Hobie digs it bc he thinks it's cool 💙

You were simply just reading a book in your spare time, Not a lot of things to do since nothing was happening in the city. It was calm today, no cop cars zooming past your window at 3AM. Probably because spiderman took care of them all already.

You peered at your cracked open window, A flash of silver catching your eyes. It was sudden, but faint. Curiosity getting the best of you, you lookef outside to be met with an unknown object on the floor. It looked like a pin, having purple aspects on it.

"What is kanka?" You look around clearly confused, not sure where the shiny object came from.

"Can I have that back mate?" You were startled by a sudden voice, almost dropping the pin from your hands. You looked around for the voice, eventually looking up to be met with spiderman himself. Without thinking you throw it to him, impressed by the fact he caught it with one hand.

"I neva' seen a lush like you around' ere." You told him you recently moved here, Having a conversation with a stranger you just met a few seconds ago. You learned his spiderman logo was 'spiderpunk'. A fitting name for someone who looks like he'd smash the guitar on his back against someone's face.

You two ended up talking the night away, The man complimenting how beautiful you were just before having to 'splits the jit' You couldn't help but laugh, A flustered look on your face as you bid farewell to spiderpunk, watching as he swings from building to building. A smile on your face as you go back and enjoy the rest of your night.

//\\

It had been a while since your interaction with the spider dude. Looking through the library for any kind of books you can get your hands on. The one that caught your eye was named "The Metaphor Of Capitalism" your mind curious on what the book meant.

You ended up buying it, hands filled with bookbags as you make your way back home, Stopping by a small food stand tucked away in a corner. You greeted the workers with a smile, ordering two tacos beside a very tall figure. His cheeks were sculpted, His eyes half lazy as he does the same.

A lousy smirk on his face as he talks with the employees, he seemed to be known here, Having a friendly conversation with everyone who was near. Your eyes catching on the purple pin on his vest. It was the same one spiderpunk had lost temporarily, your mind clicking as you realized who the man beside you was.

You squinted your eyes, Taking your tacos and exiting the small alleyway. You didn't want to just shout out his identity, simply walking away, heading back to your apartment complex.

You arrived shortly after, placing your newly bought books down as you get ready for bed. A knock on your window stopping you. You walk towards the window, immediately looking up to be face to face with spiderpunk once again.

"Been awhile innit?" You nodded, a conversation soon striking between the two of you. He talked about all that happened today, Sitting on your balcony as he rambles on. It was fascinating to hear it from him since he saw it with his own two eyes. Possibly being the center of attention.

You listened throughout the whole night, Exhaustion hinting at the both of you as you bid him farewell once more. A shiny object eluting light. You picked it up, Grasping the pin in your hand as a small feeling told you he'd left it on purpose. A yawn escaping you as you call it a night once more.

//\\

Ever since the both of you met around four months ago, you'd see each other everywhere without much effort, Sheepishly remembering all the pins on his vest. You felt like a detective, trying to crack the man's secret identity. You didn't wanna invade his privacy however, so you stopped.

Talking to spiderpunk on your balcony almost everyday felt unreal, it became like a common routine. Your shyness washing away the more you got to know him, often placing desserts outside for him if he ever swung by for a quick hello.

You wouldn't say you "weren't" curious on what he looked like, but the anticipation was killing you. You knew it was wrong wanting to see his face but you couldn't help it, Trying to push down the thoughts wasn't working anymore. You just had to clarify if it was him you saw at the taco stand a few months back.

Still remembering the man's gorgeous face was haunting you, his brown eyes gleaming as he ordered his food. You wanted to get to the bottom of this, Pulling yourself together and waiting for him to swing by, sadly he didn't stop by today, A pout hinting at your lips as you lay in bed, letting sleep take over you.

//\\

A knock awoke you, Your eyes peering out the window. It was still the darkest of nights outside, Your body jumping up from your bed as another knock occured. A groan leaving the collapsed man that rested on your balcony. You quickly pulled him in, his suit torn up as you hurry to get a first aid kit.

You placed him on your soft comforter, worry on your face as you frantically pace around before checking his heartbeat. A sigh of relief washing over you as he was only out cold. You decided to let him have your bed, Grabbing a few blankets and huddling up into a chair.

A few minutes passing but no signs of sleep looming over you. You were too worried, constantly checking up on the masked friend as he shifts in his sleep. You decided it was best to stay awake, grabbing a book and reading the hours away. A groan making your ears perk as you cover your face with your book.

He looked around clearly lost, until he spotted you. Wincing as the bruises on his back fought with him. You told him to keep still, not wanting him to open up the stitches. He obliged, cracking jokes at a time like this.

"Got myself in a bit of a pickle, yeah?" A smile creeping up on your face as he gives you an explanation on all he remembered. You nodded before handing him a cold beverage from your mini fridge, An act of kindness falling from him as he whispered a quiet 'thank you'.

You felt your heart flutter as he suddenly pulled off his mask. Your body struck standing still as you examine his face before looking away apologetically. He only chuckled, knowing he was handsome himself. You helped him up, setting a pillow below him. Your faces being inches apart.

Your eyes peering into his as the comforting silence developed through the both of you. Your eyes widening as your lips found a way to one another, The kiss becoming passionate as you close your eyes. You'd pulled away for air, your eyes blinking as you contemplated what just happened.

"I've be waitin' to do that." You look him in the eyes before feeling embarrassment wash over you, A smirk plastered on Hobie's face as you continue to exchange small glances to one another. The night filled with laughter as you lay there with your boyfriend.

"Who knew you'd fall for spiderman like he fell for you?"

Commission completed! (Click here to see the commission)

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megantheestallion-ismypresident · 6 months

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She's Confident

Duke dennis x black!reader

Summary: after duke and his girlfriend broke up he hasn't been talkative with his friends or hasn't gone out, so his friends take him out, because he hasn't been active so they take him to the store to go get something to eat, until duke saw this pretty ass girl at the store trying to shoot his shot but her confidence made him down bad for her.

Duke hasn't been the same after his break up with Kali. Kali and him had a nice relationship he was in love with her, and he thought the relationship was gonna last forever, but their relationship got a bit distant. Duke has been streaming a lot, and Kali was more worried and busy on her music career, and everything just fell apart from there. Duke hasn't been the same. He has been distant during the whole thing. He's been streaming a lot lately so he can distract himself from his heartbreak. Even his friends noticed, took.

Kai was in his room chatting with fanum. "Yo, I ain't neva seen this nigga that sad, bruh." Kai said with a concerned look thinking about duke's well being on the breakup. "Real shit, he been streaming alot lately to distract himself, like I would be putting him on with some girl because he hasn't been dating in a while ever since kali." Fanum said to Kai. "Right, that one time I was streaming with him we were talking to some girls, and the girls were trying to rizz the nigga up, and he wasn't even interested." Kai said to fanum as fanum made a disbelief look.

"Nah, we gotta get him out there he can't be stuck on kali forever, my nigga." Kali said to fanum rubbing his eyes since he's been stressed and tired after he finished streaming.

"Yo I'm mad hungry, I haven't eaten all day." Fanum said as kai gave him 'you lying' look. "Thats a lie nigga, I ain't never seen you get through the day without eating." Kai laughs as fanum fake laughs. "I know you ain't talking, grow nigga you like 4 foot something." Fanum jokes as kai gave him a look.

"Wait hold on I think I got a idea to get duke out the house, bruh." Kai said as he smiles having a good idea. "So we go to the store with duke, right? We get some snacks and if we see him eyeing a fine ass girl at the store we gon hook a nigga up." Kai smiles like kid seeing candy. Fanum thinks and then nod his head in a agreeing manner. "Ok, nigga I see you." Fanum smiles as he daps kai up.

"OK who paying because I ain't trying spend my money not gon lie." Fanum says. "Don't worry I'm gonna pay." Kai says as he gets up from his chair as fanum follows behind. Kai and fanum went to duke's room seeing him on his phone depressed.

"Aye, duke let's go to the store we ready." Kai said as he looks at Duke.

"Alright, who driving?" Duke questions as he gets up from his chair.

"I wanna drive." Fanum and kai says at the same and they gave each other a confused look.

"No, bro I'm driving I said it." Kai says back to fanum.

"Yo, you short as fuck you not reaching the steering wheel and your feet ain't gon touch the ground, nigga." Fanum laughs as kai look back at him irritatingly.

"I know you ain't talking yo big ass not gonna fit inside the car." Kai laughs at his joke as fanum look back at him with "nigga shut up" look.

"Why you always on my dick, bro" fanum says irritatingly as kai gave him a look in disbelief in shock.

"Nigga you be on my dick, fuck is you talkin bout." Kai argues back at fanum.

"Alright, I'm finna drive because yall nigga are just talking." Duke says walking past them as he taking the car keys. Kai and fanum follow behind duke as they make it outside walking towards the parked car.

Duke unlocks the car as they got in the car, duke drives off. They drove in completely silence which was really weird because when they usually be in the car they be loud as fuck, playing music and just having a fun time, but ever since duke and kali broke up, duke hasn't been the same lately.

As they made it to the store. Duke parked his car as they got out the car as the cold breeze touches their face. "Damn it's cold as shit out here." Kai says as shakes a little bit from the cold weather. "Why you ain't bring you jacket?" Duke question as they walked inside the store. "Because since fanum and I were arguing I ain't paid no attention of bringing my jacket." Kai responds back as fanum starts silently chuckling.

"That's what your ass get for arguing with me nigga." Fanum laughs as he childishly points finger at kai as kai hits his hand away.

"Bro shut yo bitch ass up, nigga." Kai says to fanum, duke crack a little smile as he hears kai and fanum arguing from behind him.

"Alright I'm gonna get me something to drink and to get away from y'all niggas before you embarrass me in this store." Duke says as he walks away from kai and fanum. Duke went towards the beverage isle as he stands infront of the fridge looking for something to eat. Duke heard the door open with that little bell ringing anytime someone enters the store.

Duke couldn't take his eyes off the woman that entered the store. She had locs in her hair that reached down to her waist. She had a black crop top, with some baggy pants, a belly button piercing, and white air forces. The pretty woman walks Duke's way, they made eye contact as the woman smiles at him. Duke wanted you, even if he didn't know you. Your smile was attractive, the way you walked with such confidence, the way you sway your hips when you walk.

Duke saw kai and fanum at the chips isl as they were talking with each other. "Yo, guys." Duke whispers as he caught kai and fanum's attention. "What, bro?" Kai asks. "I saw this fine ass girl coming my way and she smiled at me, not that 'nice, wholesome' type shit, like that attractive shit." Duke explains which made fanum and kai intrigued.

"Go talk to her nigga." Fanum looks at him urgently wanting him to go talk to the girl.

"Wait I gotta pay all this for you niggas." Duke says. "Don't worry I'm gonna pay me and fanum gonna be waiting for you in the car." Kai says as to duke, duke look a bit nervous second guessing. "Go, nigga we got you." Fanum insists.

"Alright imma go- wait you had money this whole time and you just me to waist my money, nigga." Duke asks questions as kai awkwardly smiles knowing he's been caught.

"We gonna go to the car, gotta go nigga." Kai says urgently as fanum follows behind as duke sees them paying for they snacks, kai and fanum look back at duke giving him a thumbs up as they left the store.

Duke takes a deep breath as he walks toward the candy isle seeing the woman was still there. Duke was next to her but not to close not wanting to seem like a stalker. Duke was looking at what candy he gonna get but he was looking back at the girl who was picking which candy she was gonna get.

"I know you're staring, I mean, I'm a pretty girl, but you can just ask." Y/n says to Duke, not looking at him. "Damn, hold on i'm -" Duke was about to apologize, but she cut him off. "Nah, I'm just messing around. It's cool." Y/n says calm as she looks back at Duke. "Oh shit your duke." Y/n says smiling as Duke smiles back. "You know me?" Duke asks. "Yeah, I know you. I watch Amp all the time." Y/n admits as she grabs a 'Twix' bar. "Damn, why did you -" Duke was gonna say something, but y/n cuts him off. "I don't really do that extra shit when I see a celebrity. You know y'all are people too." Y/n says as she walks as Duke follows her.

"Also them niggas at new York y'all were giving PC's to were doing to fucking much." Y/n says as she went towards the chip isle as duke grab some 'Hot cheetos'. "Yeah them niggas was buggin, acting crazy." Duke answers back Making y/n laugh. "Wait, I ain't get your name." Duke says as y/n stops in her tracks. "It's Y/n." Y/n bit her bottom lip as she continues walking.

"Pretty name for a pretty ass girl." Duke says making y/n smile. "I know nigga, don't play." Y/n and Duke laughed as they walk towards the register as they continue talking.

"Hey I know we just met, but can I get your number." Duke does his infamous rizz smile which y/n couldn't say no to. "Sure." Y/n agrees as duke offer his phone to her as she writes her number in his contacts. Y/n pulls out her wallet but duke stops her. "Nah let me pay for you." Duke insists. "Nah I'm a big girl I can pay for my own stuff, baby." Y/n smirks making duke heart melt. The way she said 'baby' made him feel some type of way. The man at the counter gave him the snacks in the bag.

"It was nice meeting you, y/n." Duke says as y/n looks up at him with a picture perfect smile. As duke and y/n head out of the store they grabbed their snack from inside the bag as there hands touch making them look at each other not breaking eye contact. Y/n kisses duke on the cheek as she smiles at him she comes closer and whispered in his ear. "Call me." Y/n whispers as she walks away from him as she walks towards her car.

Duke walks towards his car getting inside. "Yo, we saw everything outisde nigga, she want you for real." Kai smiles exciting hyping duke up.

"Did you get her number? That's the main question." Fanum asks duke. "Hell yeah, I got her number, nigga." Duke says as kai and fanum shouts hyping Duke up.

Duke starts the car as duke was telling the whole story the whole car ride home. They made it home as they was still talking about it. "You gonna text her?" Kai asks as duke thinks.

"I don't know bruh?" Duke responds not really sure what to do.

"Bro text her so she knows you interested don't boring with it though." Fanum gives duke some advice as they walked inside the house. "Not gonna lie I'm tired as hell." Kai yawns. "Alright I'm boutta go upstairs" Duke says. "Alright night, bro." Fanum says walking to his room.

Duke walked upstairs as he went inside his room, he heard phone buzzed as he turns his phone on he sees that you texted him.

"Y/n: You wanna go out for dinner?" Y/n texted making duke smile at tye response.

"Duke: yeah, why not?" Duke texted back.

"Y/n: cool, night." Y/n texted back as she smiles as she turns her phone off and still smiling at the thought of Duke.

Duke smiles as he turn his lights off making it too bed still thinking about y/n, he couldn't stop thinking about her, duke is grateful to have kai and fanum putting him out there.

He finally was himself again, and he wasn't thinking about Kali anymore, and for that he was happy to have someone new in his life.

#Duke dennis #duke dennis x black!reader #Duke dennis x black!fem reader #Spotify #Kaliya Ashley Ross #kaliii

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daisymintt · 8 months

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I have too many ideas for Merlin fics so I’m just gonna dump them here, if you write one please tag me I’d love to read it!

• Arthur is seen as a traitor to the crown and is about to be killed when Merlin saves him and they go on the run and become some of the most well known bandits in Camelot, the Fallen Prince and his Warlock (inspired by Americano by Lady Gaga)

• A beast that feeds off magic goes to Camelot and takes Merlin, Arthur and the Knights embark on a rescue mission

• A visiting Noble introduces a new “sport” to Uther, sorcerer hunting. In which a captured sorcerer is released into the woods with only the clothes on their back and are hunted down by knights and specially trained hounds. Intrigued, he partakes of this “sport”. Merlin is disgusted and goes into the forest to help them escape only to become the prey. Will he be able to keep his magic secret? Or will he be doomed?

• Merlin on the run inspired by the song Run Boy Run

• Rumor Has It/Rumor Mill, a bunch of different rumors start cropping up in Camelot varying from absurd to believable

• A visiting Lady takes a shine to Merlin, Arthur gets jealous.

• Arthur and Merlin are on a hunting trip and stop at a tavern. While there they overhear a local ghost story about an ghost that of a Lady who lived in the manor up the street. Her husbands kept dying “mysteriously” and she went mad with grief. They say the manor is haunted. Merlin takes it seriously and Arthur teases him about, later they go to the abandoned manor and have an encounter with the ghost. Get trapped in the manor. The ghost carries a bloody hatchet. Nearly takes Arthur’s head off. Similar to Constance Hatchaway.

• Stardust AU

• Arthur follows in his dad’s footsteps and sets out to kill the last Druid, a boy called Emrys. Little did he know that his friend Merlin was that druid. Inspo: Still/Neva Flows Reprise

• 1920’s America Merlin runs a speakeasy

• Gaius is away dealing with an outbreak of sweating sickness at a border town leaving Merlin as acting Court Physician while he’s away.

- A visiting Nobel lady goes into labor, Merlin has to help her.

• Merlin catches a cold yet refuses to stop working, his magic is also affected. Every time he sneezes something magical happens leaving chaos in his wake. His magic stops reacting when he Gaius sneaks him a sleeping draught mixed with some cold medicine (or at least the medieval equivalent that addresses the symptoms), Arthur not so subtly frets about Merlin’s wellness.

• Merlin overextends his magic and when he gets back to Camelot he tries to do a small spell and it doesn’t work, discovers he has a “Sorcerers Cold” it doesn’t affect the physical body but the magical one. In other words, how magic is on the fritz until he can get some proper rest.

• Last Night Gus episode where they super drunk and wake up in weird places. They spend the day trying to piece together what happened last night

• A sorcerer disguised themselves as Merlin to get close to Arthur

• A shapeshifter that appears as your hearts greatest desire appears as Merlin to Arthur and lures him into a trap, Merlin has to save him. Classic who’s the real Merlin scenario where Arthur has to ask a question that only the real Merlin would know the answer too.

• A vampire arrives in Camelot.

• Merlin’s shadow has the wings of a dragon, Arthur notices

• Merlin and Arthur have been arguing over something for a while now, Leon is tired of being stuck in the middle of it and traps them in a room. He refuses to let them come out until they figure out whatever they’re fighting about. (Ten minutes in the closet trope)

• A drunk Merlin finds himself in Arthur’s room, Arthur takes care of him. Merlin is very affectionate when drunk. (Inspo: bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo)

• Merlin and Morgana are friends and Arthur is jealous of there close bond, Arthur thinks that they’re courting and confronts Merlin about it.

• Morgana or someone casts a spell while the knights, Arthur, and Merlin are asleep on a quest that joins their dreams together. Merlin is very skittish afraid that he may accidentally reveal his magic. Inspo: A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill! Season 2 episode 19 of Ducktales.

• 5 weird places Merlin has fallen asleep and one not so weird one (it’s Arthur’s bed)

#arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #merthur #merlin fandom #bbc emrys #emrys #fanfic #fanfiction #writing prompts #fanfiction prompts #merlin prompt #merlin x arthur #merlin fic #merlin fanfic

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leoniestarlee · 3 months

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Illyrian Assassin (17)

Pairing: Azriel x OC

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: past trauma, slow burn

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We watched as the last mortal left in her carriage before Rhys knocked on the door. The light was already fading, and the world outside was thick with shades of blue and white and grey, stained gold as Feyre opened the front door and found us waiting.

Rhys’ brows lifted. “You’d think they’d been told plague had befallen the house.”

Feyre pulled the door open wide enough to let us in, then quickly shut it against the bitter cold. “My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

I pulled down the hood of my white coat as Cassian let out a low whistle. I turned in place, surveying the grand entry hall, the ornate furniture, and the paintings.

“Your father must be a fine merchant,” Cassian said. “I’ve seen castles with less wealth.”

“My father is away on business—and attending a meeting in Neva about the threat to Prythian.”

“Prythian?” I said, twisting toward her. “Not Hybern?”

“It’s possible my sisters were mistaken—your lands are foreign to them. They merely said, ‘above the wall’. I assumed they thought it was Prythian.”

Azriel came forward on feet as silent as a cat’s. “If humans are aware of the threat, rallying against it, then that might give us an advantage when contacting the queens.”

“Come,” Rhys said, offering Feyre a subtle, understanding nod before motioning to lead the way. “Let’s make this introduction.”

Azriel stayed close to my side as Feyre crossed the room, the four of us a step behind and we spotted Elain and another woman by the window.

The sisters looked to Feyre and then they took in the winged faeries—or the two of them. Rhys’ wings had vanished, while mine were…non-existent.

The two females both stiffened at Cassian and Azriel, as those mighty wings tucked in tight to powerful bodies, at the weapons, and then at the devastatingly beautiful faces.

The older sister whom we didn’t know the name of, took a not-so-subtle step in front of Elain, and ducked her fisted hand behind her simple, elegant amethyst gown. The movement did not go unnoticed by me as I sent her a small grin.

Feyre said to us, “My sisters, Nesta, and Elain Archeron.”

The sisters did not curtsy.

“Cassian,” Feyre said, inclining her head to the left. Then shifted to the right as Azriel took a step closer to my back, placing a hand on the side of my waist as I stiffened. “Azriel and Aurora.” She then half turned to my bastard brother. “And High Lord Rhysand, of the Night Court.”

Rhys bowed to the sisters as I tried not to snort, leaning back into Az. “Thank you for the hospitality—and generosity,” he said with a warm smile. But there was something strained in it.

Elain tried to return the smile but failed.

And Nesta just looked at the four of us, then at Feyre, and said, “The cook left dinner on the table. We should eat before it goes cold.” She didn’t wait for any agreement before striding off—right to the head of the polished cherry table.

Elain rasped, “Nice to meet you,” before hustling after her.

“This should be fun,” I whispered to Az.

Cassian was grimacing as we trailed them, Rhys’ brows were raised, and Azriel looked more inclined to blend into the nearest shadow and avoid this conversation altogether.

Nesta was waiting at the head of the table, a queen ready to hold court. Elain trembled in the upholstered, carved wood chair to her left.

Feyre did us all a favor and took the one to Nesta’s right. I stepped out of Azriel’s hold, claiming the spot beside Elain, who clenched her fork as if she might wield it against me and Cassian sat next to me. Rhys slid into the seat beside Feyre, Azriel on his other side.

“A fork won’t do much to me,” I softly said to Elain who blanched, and I cringed, realizing I could’ve worded that better. “Maybe you should invest in an ash dagger,” I suggested as Cassian snorted.

A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent as we both focused on Cassian who was subtly trying to adjust his wings around the human chair, making me fight away a laugh.

Feyre yanked the lids off the various dishes and casseroles. Poached salmon with dill and lemon, whipped potatoes, roast chicken with beets and turnips, and some casserole of eggs, game meat, and leeks.

We all scooped food onto our plates, the sound filling the tense silence. I would have taken anything to be back at Velaris with my girls than at the dinner with Feyre’s sisters.

Rhys was digging into his chicken without hesitation. Cassian, Azriel, and I ate as if we hadn’t had a meal in moths. Being warriors, though, had given us the ability to see food as strength.

“Is there something wrong with our food?” Nesta said flatly to Feyre and slowed down my eat, watching them.

Feyre made herself take another bite. “No.” She swallowed and gulped down a healthy drink of water.

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore—or are you too good for it?” A question and a challenge.

Rhys’ fork clanked on his plate. Elain made a small, distressed noise from beside me.

Feyre laid her hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”

My food dropped off my fork and onto the plate as Cassian choked on his water. Azriel shifted on his seat, angling to spring between them if need be.

Nesta let out a low laugh.

Rhys didn’t so much as blink at Feyre before he said evenly to Nesta, “If you ever come to Prythian, you will discover why your food tastes so different.”

Nesta looked down her nose at him. “I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”

“Nesta, please,” Elain murmured.

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam—what it meant. She snarled softly, “What are you looking at?”

I gripped my fork tighter as I stared at Nesta. “Watch your tone with my brother,” I snarled back, making Feyre stiffen as Azriel and Rhys shared a worried glance.

Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now as he gripped my arm softly and stared at Nesta. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out in the forest, so close to the wall. Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

“How does an older sister sit on their ass and watch their youngest sister risk her life?” I questioned Nesta, thinking back to my own sisters at home who I’d never allow to do what Nesta allowed Feyre to do—to risk. “An older sister doesn’t let their youngest sister risk their life because you refused to get a damn job.” I sent a narrowed look to Nesta and Elain.

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied me and then Cassian’s handsome features. Then she turned to Feyre. Dismissing us entirely.

Cassian’s face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe…only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead. I lightly kicked his leg under the table, stopping him from making a stupid mistake as he let go of me.

Elain’s voice wobbled as she noted the same thing and quickly said to him, “It…it is very hard, you understand, to…accept it.” She casted pleading eyes on Rhys, then Azriel, then me, such mortal fear coating her features, her scent. “We are raised this way. We hear stories of your kind crossing the wall to hurt us. Our own neighbor, Clare Beddor, was taken, her family murdered…”

Rhys was staring at his plate. Unmoving. Unblinking.

Elain said, “It’s all very disorienting.”

“I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian and I flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on Elain, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

I looked at him with shock, my lips parted as I tried to wrap my mind around his smile. So rarely did he ever smile at anyone else out of our little family. And yet, he’d just met Elain and was smiling at her.

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, maybe even me, but I wouldn’t know because I couldn’t take my eyes off Azriel who avoided look to me, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.”

“You could’ve learned like your sister did,” I said, turning my attention to Elain. “You think she wasn’t scared going into those woods alone at such a young age?” I aimed my question at Nesta who said nothing, her back rigid.

“Rory,” Rhys murmured in quiet warning. I looked away from the sisters, turning to Rhys who gave me a pointed look that I rolled my eyes at.

Feyre gripped Nesta’s arm, drawing her attention to her. “Can we just…start over?”

Nesta merely hissed, “Fine.” And went back to eating.

Cassian watched every bite she took, every bob of her throat as she swallowed.

I looked back to Az, wondering what he was thinking about as he sneaked at glance at Elain and my heart throbbed with a painful beat. It wasn’t until Cassian nudged me that I had finally looked away, fixing my eyes on my plate.

Elain said to Azriel, “Can you truly fly?”

He set down his fork, blinking. “Yes. Cassian, Rory, and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of wind.”

And I leaned further back into my chair as Cassian sent me a sorrowed look, placing his hand over mine in comfort—that I very much needed.

“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“It is sometimes,” Azriel said. Cassian tore his attention from me long enough to nod his agreement. “If you are caught in a storm, if the current drops away. But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before we’re out of swaddling.” And yet, Azriel had not been trained until long after that.

“You look like High Fae,” Nesta cut in, her voice like a honed blade. “But you are not?”

“Only the High Fae who look like them,” Cassian drawled, waving a hand to Feyre and Rhys, “are High Fae. Everyone else, any other difference, mark you as what they like to call ‘lesser’ faeries.”

I sat up, clearing my throat. “It’s become a term used for ease, but makes a long, bloody history of injustices. Many lesser faeries resent the term—and wish for us all to be called one thing.”

“Rightly so,” Cassian said, drinking from his water.

Nesta surveyed Feyre. “But you were not High Fae—not to begin. So what do they call you?”

Rhys said, “Feyre is whoever she chooses to be.”

Nesta said, “Write your letter to the queens tonight. Tomorrow, Elain and I will go to the village to dispatch it. If the queens do come here,” she added, casting a frozen glare at Cassian and I, “I’d suggest bracing yourselves for prejudices far deeper than ours. And contemplating how you plan to get us all out of this mess should things go sour.”

“We’ll take that into account,” Rhys said smoothly.

Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, “I assume you’ll want to stay the night.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, then yes,” Feyre said. “We’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow.”

Nesta didn’t smile, but Elain beamed. “Good. I think there are a few bedrooms ready—”

“We’ll need two,” Rhys interrupted quietly. “Next to each other, with two beds each.”

Feyre narrowed her brows at him as Cassian moved his hand away from mine and I sipped my water.

“Magic is different across the wall,” Rhys explained to Feyre. “So our shields, our senses, might not work right. I’m taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring.”

I darted my eyes to Elain who flushed a bit. “The—the bedrooms that have two beds aren’t next to each other,” she murmured.

Feyre said softly, “We’ll move things around. It’s fine. Mr. Old,” she added with a glare in Rhys’ direction, “is only cranky because he’s old and it’s past his bedtime.”

Rhys chuckles, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease of proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.

@waytoomanyteenagefeels

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theladyofbloodshed · 7 months

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You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 7

A whoosh of wind blew through the room, rustling the pages of her book. Elain swept in with it, a small bunch of flowers clutched to her chest as she twirled. With a flourish, she threw herself onto the low-slung couch opposite Nesta, pink skirts draping across the lush carpeted floor.

‘I am the luckiest woman in the world.’

‘Because I am your sister?’ Nesta countered.

With a beaming smile making her features shine, Elain brandished the bouquet to Nesta. It was a little tired from where Elain had likely clung to it on her walk home from the village, escorted by Mrs Lawrence as chaperone.

‘You hate peonies. You called them roses for paupers a few weeks ago.’

Elain snatched the flowers back and pressed them to her chest again. ‘It’s the thought that counts. Graysen didn’t have to buy me flowers. And they’re beautiful.’

They were nice enough but they looked as if he had torn them from somebody’s garden hastily before his meeting with Elain. Her sister was enamoured with them though so Nesta kept her lips firmly closed.

‘Maybe I won’t be the only lady in this house to receive flowers.’

On instinct, Nesta’s eyes flickered towards the windows, expecting to see shadows or wings.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Elain gave a coy smile. ‘Mr Dunne was on his way here. He’ll be knocking at any moment.’

As soon as the words were out, a knock did sound at the door. Nesta suppressed her groan. Many suitors had been sniffing about her father, enquiring after his eldest daughter’s hand – and he had been happy to indulge them in conversation so that he could bloat his account with further coin. Since Father had been away on the Continent, Nesta had snipped away every suitor like pruning dead flowers, chopping the heads off one by one. Only one man still came calling because he was too dopey to realise her scathing comments were meant to wound.

Mrs Lawrence’s voice echoed down the corridor as he was seen into the room by her. Rather than sprawling out, Elain sat upright, flowers still held in her lap. She greeted him with a nod of the head and a brief curtesy.

‘It is highly inappropriate to come unannounced and unwanted, Mr Dunne,’ said Nesta, not rising from her chair. She had tried to be polite, abrasive, or cold, and he still returned. ‘Even stray hounds can follow commands.’

‘You charm me with your tongue. I did come with a reason. I have written to your father this morning. A letter has been sent to Neva requesting your hand, officially.’

Elain let out a gasp. She had the luxury of marrying for love. Nesta did not. Destiny was cruel; because she was the eldest, she carried the family’s status on her shoulders. There was no future that she could carve, only her father could decide it. And, well, they rarely saw eye to eye. He wasn’t likely to take her views into account. Only in his absence, could Nesta meddle.

‘You will not find me an unpleasant companion,’ he continued, though Nesta already did. He was in his thirties, with a waistband that was stretching year on year with indulgences. The mutton-chops taking up most of his face were greying and untrimmed. He had not yet married but was filthy rich, seizing the unoccupied space their father had once held in trading.

Nesta was not naïve. She’d known a match would be made between her and a wealthy man, but did he have to be so unappealing on the eye and have the personality of a wet dishcloth?

‘Is that all I should want? A pleasant companion to spend all of my days with?’

There had to be more to life than being a docile wife whose dreams were systematically plucked away by her husband. Being a mother was important to her – but that wasn’t all she wanted. Now that their wealth was restored, opportunities were presented to her, ones that were denied in their destitution.

Nesta’s fangs were already exposed ready to draw blood. A glance was shared between Elain and Mrs Lawrence that said they ought to evacuate Mr Dunne from the room before Nesta shred him in two. She had already been called a difficult girl by Mr Polesworth as if she was a foul-tempered horse that could not be broken in fully.

‘I have sent a letter across the ocean to your father.’

She resisted the urge to snort. That was all it took, was it? A simple letter officially asking to be the husband of Nesta Archeron. That was all that was needed to tie them together for a lifetime.

‘And that should move me? Would you cross oceans of time to find me? How ardently will you love me, admire me?’ Nesta stood then to her full height – which had a good, few inches on him. ‘Would you not wish for any companion in the world, but I?’

Mr Dunne attempted to stammer out a reply, but Mrs Lawrence cut in. ‘Good grief, look at the time! We must host you at another time, Mr Dunne. We’d be overjoyed to have you for afternoon tea next Thursday. Miss Archeron will be on her best behaviour. She has been unwell of late.’

‘Ah the sea air would do her well. My family has a property with a vast land by the coast.’

Their voices carried from the room and Nesta let out a low laugh as she dropped back into her seat. Her fingers grazed the spine of her novel as she reached for it. Elain blew out a breath.

‘That was not nice, Nesta.’

‘I am not nice,’ she replied.

If he wanted to enter her den, he should expect the monster to be residing within. Mr Dunne was insufferable. If Father shackled her to him for a lifetime, Nesta would claw and shred until there was nothing left.

‘What did you mean, crossing oceans of time to find you? What was all that?’

‘Graysen will marry you because he loves you. I must marry whomever father decides will fill his pockets with the most money. Is it a crime to a want a man who would love me too?’ Nesta thumbed through her book to find her page, having closed it too hastily earlier. ‘If a man wants me, he should earn my love, not expect it.’

From her couch, Elain gave a small, mischievous smile – the likes of which Nesta hadn’t seen on his expression for many, many years. ‘You are a romantic at your core.’

Nesta made a tutting noise. ‘Delusional, perhaps, to hope a husband might want a wife who could meet him step for step in history and mathematics and be more than a brood-mare.’

Elain stood then, smoothing down her skirts with one hand. The peonies were gazed upon once more with airy delight, Nesta’s words hardly registering.

‘These need a vase and water,’ she said to herself before exiting the room.

It was difficult to know if Elain purposefully ignored comments that Nesta made or it was unintentional. She had been coddled and kept, year on year. When Nesta had asked her to think of the possible outcomes of Graysen discovering their youngest sister was fae, Elain had begun singing to herself and straightened the rug. She did not like to face reality, but it was a necessity. Elain preferred to keep her head in the clouds to avoid the rain whereas Nesta anticipated downpours before the clouds had even greyed.

As a result, she had nobody to share her misery with. The only one in the village who ever made time for their family was Clare. Thoughts of Clare had Nesta’s throat tightening. She had walked past the house the next morning. She’d thought along the way that there was a pungent smell of smoke strangling the air then her eyes had settled on the charred, smouldering remains of the Beddor home. It had felt as if the whole world stopped. Nesta had stared and stared in disbelief that a whole family could be gone – that nobody in the village even knew about it until the morning.

The sycophantic women who had made a return to their lives when money returned were not welcomed by Nesta. She had made a point of being rude and cold to them. Elain might have forgotten about the decade of shunning they received, eager to be back in society, but Nesta would never forgive them. She did not want – or need – such vain people in her life.

But it meant that she was alone. There was nobody to lean on, to share her worries about an impending engagement with, or even pass the time with for fun. Nesta had learned to be alone.

***

‘Where in the name of the Mother have you been?’

Cassian dropped the spoon he was holding and practically hurdled the low table in the living room to wrap Azriel in a bone-crunching embrace that lifted his feet from the ground.

‘Do that to him again,’ called Mor, ‘and he’ll disappear for another week.’

When Azriel was settled back down, Cassian returned to his soup. Mor lay on a couch, a lock of blonde hair twisted around the end of her finger.

‘I’ve been busy,’ he replied then joined them in the living room.

Busy.

Laughable. Debatable. Undeniable.

He had been busy of his own choosing. Azriel took on more missions on the Continent, more stakeouts, more canvassing. He was working himself ragged of his own accord. The order hadn’t been issued by Rhys. Hell, Rhys had not even contacted him for days. He'd do anything rather than be back at the mortal manor - although every single fibre of his being demanded he go there.

Not even him. These fucking shadows.

See her.

They whispered it even now.

Azriel did not want to even think of that word – mates – because it was impossible. She was mortal, so very mortal. In fifty years’ time, she might not even exist. A strong illness could take out mortals as easily as a dandelion head blown away. There was no such thing as a mating bond to a mortal. Bonds were rare amongst high fae, rarer still for Illyrians.

His shadows had a newfound fascination, that was all.

They had latched onto something new and shiny. Someone who didn’t balk from them. That was all. It was a novelty for somebody not to shy away from them so his shadows were getting carried away with their excitement.

‘I need to see Rhys.’

‘Good luck,’ said Mor with a tinkling laugh. ‘You won’t see him for at least a week.’

‘A week? You’re being generous. Four days, maximum,’ replied Cassian.

He glanced between the pair, not understanding their joyful expression.

‘Feyre accepted the bond,’ said Mor.

Oh.

Azriel had suspected it the moment Rhysand had stormed the wedding and spirited her to Velaris. Anybody else would have been kept in the Hewn City rather than risk them seeing their City of Dreams.

‘You can tell the story, Mor, since you were the one to stow Feyre in Illyria.’

It sounded as if Azriel had missed all of the excitement in his self-imposed exile. Whilst he was overjoyed for Rhys and Feyre, the ache in his chest gave a resounding sigh as if it was missing something. While Mor spoke of the attack on Rhys, Feyre ensnaring the Suriel and discovering the truth, and her taking Feyre to the cabin in Illyria, Azriel listened mutely. He had little to add to the conversation except his own congratulations which he’d pass along when they all reunited again. If anybody deserved a mate, it was Rhys. He was glad for his brother, but as he shuffled along to his room that night, Azriel couldn’t help but feel jaded. For over five hundred years, he had wanted only one female. He’d wanted to bond with her. Wanted her. And the Cauldron had decided that Azriel didn’t deserve Mor. He wasn’t equal to her.

The shower head rained down on his wings. He tipped his head up towards it so the heat washed over him. There were many things in his life that his childhood had forever changed. Showering was one.

Each day, a fresh bucket of water was brought to him to drink from. An empty one remained to relieve himself in. He doubted if they were ever truly washed. Once a week, after he saw his mother, Azriel was brought a bucket of tepid water with a few bubbles floating on the surface. It was all deliberate, he knew, so that he was sent to his mother as grimy as possible. One rag would be at the bottom of the bucket to scrub himself with. Azriel could never wash his wings properly with too-short a reach.

When Rhysand’s mother had taken him in, Azriel would stand under the shower for what felt like hours. He only ever came out when he was forced out either through food or some other means. Even now, Azriel did not like baths or open water. He’d learnt to swim later on as a necessity, but found no joy in it. Showers, however, were still something that he craved and looked forward to when his mood was low.

When Azriel finally emerged from his bathroom, his shadows were skittering over the bed like a pile of puppies. At his arrival, they scattered to the floor, leaving one solitary shadow on the bed.

‘Oh, remembered who sings to you, have you?’

It rushed at him. In one movement, it darted across his cheek, around the back of his neck then settled on a shoulder, curling towards his ear.

‘Did you enjoy your jaunt to the mortal lands?’

The shadow spoke to him.

Engagement.

Letter.

Neva.

At the words whispered into his ear, Azriel stiffened. The ache in his chest turned to something unbearable like a rib prised open, a heart plucked from within.

‘She’s the eldest daughter. It is a natural sequence of events for mortals.’

With war imminent and the abode of the mortal sisters likely to be a battleground soon enough, engagements seemed a folly. Azriel warred with himself over what to do with the information. It was inconsequential. It changed nothing. He had no need to pass it along to Rhysand or Feyre, even if it concerned her sister. And yet, Azriel could not stop himself from thinking of it as he lay in his bed, in the silent House of Wind. Did the eldest sister not deserve a life of happiness with a husband to take care of her? If the male had a safe place for Nesta, it was better she married and increased her distance from the Wall.

Her heart has not chosen him.

Azriel pulled a pillow over his head as he rolled over. The shadow continued trying to wheedle its way towards his face.

‘The heart does not always get what it wants.’

It gets what it needs.

#nezriel #you're the closest to heaven i'll ever be

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angelgoeslewd · 11 months

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is she the other girl? (Raphael’s Part)

🔮 summary: inspired by this post, Raphael is rumored to be seen getting cozy with another women. you, though not officially dating him, get a bit jealous and confront him about it.

🎧 listening pairing: ava. natalie jane.

⚠️ warnings: heavy angst, some language, bad coping skills.

[BARBATOS, DIAVOLO, SIMEON, AND SOLOMON COMING SOON!]

Raphael was not known for his social personality. there were definitely a lot of rumors and gossip going around about him, but many of them had to do with his sarcastic demeanor, his cold shoulder, and blank face. all of it was pretty much bullshit and you easily tuned most of it out. except the day you were in the library, sorting through books to find a specific one he had recommended reading alongside the other he gave you, a touching gesture to you, though to some it may have seemed like he was trying to look down on you, like you wouldn’t understand his book unless you read its companion. but to you? you cherished the fact that he shared something with you, something you knew he liked. he simply wanted you to see it from his eyes. and that’s when it happened.

two fellow students came around the corner to your side of the library, hushed whispers in between the rows of book. it wasn’t unusual, but the minute you caught whiff of Raphael’s name being dropped, you felt you owed some sort of defensiveness to the angel who had so kindly gave you his reading recommendation, straight from his own shelf, and instantly turned to jump in, a decision you usually chose not to make. and did you ever regret it.

“-I know! Who’d ever thought it? Mr. Holier-Than-Thou, neva seen a smile a day in his life got game!”

“You’re sure it was her? She’s so pretty! What does she see in him??”

“I know!! That’s what I said- but, and get this, apparently she was wrapped around his arm the whole time! They went to a bunch’a places! This fancy restaurant on Main, some sort of jewelry shop… like a ridiculous amount of money had to have been spent on her! I dunno what it is, but Raphael’s got it!”

they both laugh and being to walk away, the sound of their voices fading as they do. you standing there with your raised hand, pointed into a wagging finger, and let it drops to your side as you blinked at their words. Raphael… had a girlfriend? He had a girlfriend? That you didn’t know about? He was a very private person, but he didn’t seem like the type to lead you on. Especially when he was treating you so special now… the way he beelined to sit next to you, how he shared his things with you, asked you to spend time with him more… you thought he was the type who would only do things like that when he was interested in someone. did you misjudge his feelings? he… couldn’t have misjudged yours, however. you thought you made it quite obvious you had a thing for the angel. he… should’ve said something. he just let you go on this impossible quest that you would never win and embarrass yourself? so you could be the silly human trying to win the heart of an angel? it hurt.

it hurt so much — the confusion, the embarrassment, how much emphasis you put on feeling like your affections were shared — that you had to completely separate yourself from him for a while. you couldn’t face any of the angels, in fact, knowing they would try to help on behalf of their brother and you just couldn’t deal with it. you completely rearranged your schedule, choosing to nap with Belphie one day, be late to classes with Mammon so you could sit in the back with him, eat lunch out with Beel, all so you could avoid the angels. your heart hurt whenever you saw Luke worriedly glancing your way, but the idea of him bringing up whatever happened with Raphael had you turning the other direction. Simeon and Raphael both stared at you whenever you had classes together, even if it meant them getting admonished by the teacher. you kept your gaze to your paper or the board, pretending not to see them in the corner of your eye. you were packed and out the door before they ever had time to approach you.

it was hard, having the piercing gaze of the angels always on you, trying to avoid them when they always seem to know where you were, but whenever you thought back to what happened in the library, your heart throbbed painfully and you continued to mute their texts, leave your phone in your room and go on whatever outing the demon brothers had planned for that day.

an entire week goes by like this.

surprisingly, it was Solomon who ended up approaching you. he had tactfully avoided the whole thing, never mentioning it to you and therefore still was allowed contact with you, but you still kept him on thin ice and were positive he knew that. you suppose that’s why he trapped you. Solomon asked you to help him study a new spell, avoiding any outing that seemed to suggest small talk, instead offering to go to the human world, where you knew it would be nearly impossible for the angels to follow, as they almost always needed permission from Michael to go on such a field trip. you agreed and when you got there, he immediately started working on the spell, to his defense. but… it was much too easy. you got it after 30 minutes. he shrugged and pushed it off, saying it seemed more difficult in theory. he offered you tea and again, you agreed, disarmed by the convincing lies.

and that’s when he dropped it on you. “I think you should talk to Raphael.” you stopped, cup half raised to your mouth, looking at him, seething.

“Is that why you invited me here?” you spat, slapping down the teacup a little harder than you should have. “Just to talk about him?”

Solomon considered you for a moment. Then shook his head and asked, “What happened? Apparently, according to him, everything was going just fine and then you started avoiding all of them.”

“Just fine? Yeah, he would say that.” you scoffed. “He has a girlfriend.”

Solomon blinked, “No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does!”

“I’ve never seen her.”

“Me neither!”

“Then how do you even know he has one?”

“These things come out, Solomon! You can’t just hide it forever! But you also just can’t ignore a girlfriend! She was on his arm — he took her to all these nice places! Everyone saw it!”

the sorcerer leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, hand on his chin, frowning as he thought. you grit your teething, cursing him, Raphael, those students, with every breath you took. sadly, you can’t do mental spells just yet, and it doesn’t work.

after a while, he shook his head. his eyes blinked open, but the frown stayed in place. “I… really don’t think so. It’s not my place to say but… you mean something to him. He’s completely insufferable right now, you know? He’s been that way since you’ve started ignoring him; snapping at all of us, hiding out in his room for almost the entire day. No one can get him out. It’s a train wreck, really.” He sits forward, leaning over the table to drive his words home, “Please. You don’t have to forgive him, you don’t even have to be nice. Just. Talk to him. If not for him, then for Luke. Raphael made him cry yesterday.”

and that’s where you sit currently. Back at the House of Lamentation, on your bed, glaring at your phone. You haven’t even opened the chat, dreading doing so, but you have to get this over with. you pick up the phone. you open the chat.

it is filled with over 200 messages of him pleading with you to talk him, asking what happened. 29 missed calls. you take a breath, asking Michael to have mercy on you and let Raphael be asleep, and begin to type,

‘we need to talk.’

the green online light is instant, like he’s been waiting by his phone.

‘Yes. Please. Where can we meet?’

‘no. here.’

‘Why do you not want to meet me? What happened?’

another text quickly follows that one.

‘I miss you so much.’

it’s something that makes tears hop to your eyes, his honeyed sweetness — his absolute honesty of his feelings when you know he hates it. it means so much and feels like a stab to the chest all at once. all the feelings you’ve been avoiding hit you over and over, the undertow of your sea of emotions pulling you out, anger and betrayal and pain washing over you again and again, and you can’t stop yourself from hastily typing out a response.

‘you had a girlfriend?? this whole time?? i thiught i meant something to you. i thought we were i dont know connecting!? i felt so close to you, i wanted to share everything you did, i paid attention to everything you said, every little thing i could learn about you. it hurts so much to have you do this to me. i wanted to be with you every single second i could, you mean so much to me. did it mean anything to you? was i just a plaything? a human you could toy with to amuse yourself??’

‘…’

your anxiety spikes when the dots indicating he’s writing pop up. they disappear. they return. they linger. it happens a couple times and you so badly want to throw your phone across the room, but you’re so invested in what he has to say, how he could excuse himself for this, when one line pops up.

‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’

you do end up throwing your phone.

you end up crying into your pillow for a while, completely ignoring the sound of your phone vibrating with message alerts. but when your ringtone goes off, you decide to pick yourself up and answer it.

Raphael calls your name from the speaker.

it crackles like he’s outside, wind blowing into the microphone, but you still can hear him. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Raph,” you say, exhausted from all your emotions. “People saw you. The- the girl! Hanging off of your arm!”

“Girl… ? Ah. You must mean that one.”

“That one? You have others?” you deadpan.

“No. No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. The blonde one, yes?”

“I- I don’t know! I didn’t ask for details! I was too busy being hurt by — ”

“The jewelry store? Yes, I can see how that might have looked.” He sighs, barely audible above the wind. “That’s why I was trying so hard to get rid of that witch. I knew something like this could happen.”

to say you’re shocked would be an understatement, his words make you second guess everything you’ve done in the past week. “The… witch?” you ask meekly.

“Yes. The drunk one. She kept grabbing my arm and following me while I was doing errands for Michael. I couldn’t get her off and Michael needed those things urgently. They couldn’t wait. I understand how looked from the outside. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

you’re on the verge of crying again. he didn’t… have a girlfriend? you’re so embarrassed, yet relieved, and you feel so stupid for even believing those damn rumors, but you were so hurt by such a believable story-

Raphael calls your name again, this time, despite it sounding identical, is tinged with worry. “You’re whimpering into the phone. Are you ok?”

“I- I’m ok. I just… feel so stupid right now,” you whispered, voice cracking as you force yourself through the sentence. “Raphael, I’m so sorry, I- I should’ve-” you can’t finish. you have to cover your mouth as the tears win, flowing over your hot cheeks, hoping he doesn’t make fun of you too much.

you expect some sort of sarcastic response, a comment that slices you when it points out how ridiculous and over the top you’ve made this scenario. but it doesn’t come. Raphael doesn’t do any of that. All he asks is, “Can I come over?”

“Yes,” you choke, breaking down even harder.

and then he’s there, you don’t know how, but his arms wrap around you, his cold jacket catching on your soft pajama top. he clutches you to his chest as you cry, taking the phone from you and setting it down on your desk so you don’t have to clutch it tightly and hurt your fingers.

“Raph… Raph.”

“I’m here. Come on, let’s get you to the bed.”

You twist your fingers in his jacket, a silent plea for him not to let go, but it never even looks like he plans to, awkwardly steering you to the bed as his legs teeter to the side of yours. he falls down with you in his arms, stroking your hair. when your cries taper off, he hands you tissues and wipes your face with his the top of his shirt.

you can feel how puffy your face is, as you sit up, straddling him. he lies there, his blue eyes taking you in as he lets his hands hesitantly rest on your hips. “Raph, I’m- I’m so sorry. I should’ve come to you about it. I made everyone miserable.”

He gives you one of his rare, warm smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy we’re ok now.” A nervous look crosses his face and he looks away from you. “Did… did you mean what you said earlier? You want to be with me?”

“I- yeah. I did- do! I do. Very much so.”

“Next time, I’m taking you on errands with me.”

#obey me #🍩 of obey me #obey me nb #om nb #obey me nightbringer #raphael x reader #raphael x mc #raphael x you #obey me swd #THIS GOT TOO LONG AND I HAD TO SPLIT IT #will i edit this? mmmmmmaybe

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kirbyliker12 · 11 months

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finished rqs AND me history final (MY DESK WAS SOOO SQUEAKY IT WAS AWFUL) think I did p good on le test though

more elaboration from rqs below😲

Ok one Suzy n Kirby uhh I feel like Suzy would kinda be a tiny bit jealous of Kirby since ??? Kirby’s kinda like suzy but if everything went right in a way like they have the same signature color(pink) AND eye color 😙😙

also Kirby managed 2 defeat mecha knight even though it was seen as impossible n right after that Suzy tried messing up her father(in the Japanese version she actually says it came “sooner than expected”) but failed n then sent Kirby off to defeat star dream against impossible chances n won so Yeah hashtag when the 9 year old is stronger and has more friends than you in every single way

Obviously Suzy still likes Kirby bc it’s kirby n kirby likes Suzy bc it’s kirby n they both like having FUN n indulging in useless little things like favorite ice cream flavors or karaoke 👍👍

I genuinely think taranza is one of the strongest Kirby characters ever but he just neva feels the need to apply himself bc it doesn’t seem that appealing (the only times he fights is from outside influence like sectonia or da mirror) his guard in star Allies also makes him invincible n doesn’t get chipped off like magolors(I think????? Yeah I don’t have star Allies sory guys kirbyDISLIKER14 theory confirmed) he could prob do all sorts of stuff but just. Doesn’t feel like it n would rather sit around appreciating nature or something

Magolor is magolor he’s so ambitious n flashy and schemy I hate dis guy……magolordisliker14…that’s ME!!!!

Nyway ya they kinda contrast each other in the silly way Taranza being the bearer of world controlling powers but just Not Using It At All Really is incredibly funny 2 me😋

#kirbyliker12png #susie haltmann #susanna patrya haltmann #kirby #taranza #magolor #shopkeeper magolor

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 months

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On Air [Chapter Two] Radio Lover [Alastor]

A/n: a change I made already was stating that Aelia becomes a Succubus. She does not, however, her promiscuous nature attributed to her demon form, giving her a Succubus-like appearance and nature. When I created her, I made her loosely based on Albedo from Overlord, appearance-wise. I'm new to the fandom, so I am bound to make mistakes.

Regardless, I hope you all enjoy the story.

Warning(s): mentions of death and execution, pain, Hazbin Hotel lore, public sexual themes, gun usage, language, mention of cannibals, magic, demons/sinners, original female character, the OC is a serial killer, blood consumption (in a potion), dark content.

Tag list: @dndmaniac

No Minors Allowed!!

The pain of death was intense, so much so, that Aelia could not move. All of the air around her had faded away and no matter how hard she tried, she could not fill her lungs. Slowly she suffocated, sinking in what felt like a sea of molasses until her vision faded to black.

Then, as though it had all been a dream, Aelia suddenly came to and gasped for air, greedily taking in as much as she could. Her lungs burned and her head felt congested, as though it might burst at any given moment. She had no idea what was going on, but one thing was certain, she was not in Tennessee anymore.

As she lay on the cold, concrete ground between two tall buildings, she stared weakly up at the dark red sky. She had never seen such a color. It was ominous. For a moment, Aelia considered closing her eyes and letting her mind fade back into darkness, but the sound of moaning caught her attention. Someone was near.

Despite the pain, Aelia sat up. Her body felt heavy but she dismissed it as fatigue and stood on her trembling feet. A groan of pain left her. Why did her veins feel like they were on fire?

I was executed, wasn't I?

The last thing she remembered before she woke up was staring up at the ceiling in the execution chamber before she was knocked unconscious. It figures. Aelia felt every bit of what the injections did to her. So, how did she wind up in an alleyway?

Tottering toward the muffled voice, Aelia felt as though she was dragging something behind her, but upon witnessing the source of the former noise, her eyes grew wide in shock. A man with a cyclopean eye was being blown by in public as onlookers at the entrance to the alley watched on in awe and pleasure.

What the fuck?

And stranger than that, the onlookers were beings straight out of a fantasy world. Anthropomorphic animals, humans with multi-hued skin, and gelatinous creatures; the list went on. Aelia must be dreaming. Or having a nightmare.

She considered waiting until the alley was clear to leave, but she wanted more than ever just to escape the awkward situation before it got worse. As she wandered closer, the one-eyed man took note of her and grinned.

“Ya want a taste, darling? Make this a threesome.”

Aelia narrowed her eyes in disgust.

“Not a chance in hell.”

Besides, her heart belonged to someone else. The thought of his name alone made her heart race.

“Where do ya think you are?” The man remarked.

What the hell did that mean? Aelia shook her head and stormed past him.

“Ain't neva seen a succubus turn down cock. It's your loss, bitch.”

Again, she was left in wonder, but as she passed through the crowd of onlookers, evading the wandering hands of a pig-like man, she came to realize that she was soon to dismiss the man’s remark.

The area she woke up in was in utter disarray. People were running around out of control; she saw one person shoot another right across the street.

Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.

Or Earth for that matter.

A sudden sharp pain shot up Aelia’s side, and upon turning her head, she realized that someone had bumped into her. Yet, she did not feel them brush her. To her horror, a light gray wing with light blue tipped feathers rose into view. Aelia gasped.

Hurrying over to a store window, she looked at her reflection, unfamiliar with the person she saw. Was this her? It couldn't be. Her hair was long, wavy, and light gray. The hazel-green eyes that she got from her mother were now light blue and the sclera surrounding them was black. Then to matters worse, she had two pairs of wings on her lower back and a set of white horns that enveloped her head like a circlet.

This has got to be a nightmare.

Running her hand along one of the wings, it flinched to Aelia’s touch. It felt as though it were an extension of her body, though she reckoned it was. What was she? The one-eyed man’s slur drifted back to her; a succubus. Strange…she did not look or feel like one.

Aelia took an uneasy breath and raised her hand to brush back the fringe covering her right eye, but as she did, she noticed a tattoo of red symbols circling her wrist. They looked almost like vèvès, but why were they around her wrist?

“Where am I?”

“Pardon me,” a feminine voice cooed. “But did I hear correctly? You do not know where you are.”

Aelia diverted her eyes from the shop window to a woman with a wide shark-like smile and pitch-black eyes. Her elegant yet ghostly features startled the winged woman, but regardless, she shook her head in agreement.

“Why dear, take a look around, you are in Hell,” she chuckled while placing her hand against your chest.

Aelia paled at the thought, but honestly, it made sense. With her sins, she did not expect to go to Heaven.

I thought I would be with him though.

Her heart raced but at the same time, it ached.

“Close your eyes, my dear, and do not sulk. You will see me soon enough.”

Alastor’s last words Aelia took to heart. Was Hell where he had intended her to go? Perhaps he had lied to her. She felt faint.

The pale woman, Rosie, raised a thin brow in curiosity. Leaning her long neck forward, she eagerly took in her scent. It had been a long time since she had smelled the living world on a person; of petrichor and slightly sweet earth. She smelled delicious.

Mixed in, however, was the familiar scent of blood and magic.

“I see now,” Rosie stated. She had made a deal. And with Alastor to her shock. Shame.

A realization suddenly dawned on the Overlord.

“Oh my, where are my manners? My name is Rosie.”

She extended her hand which Aelia hesitantly took, giving her a good look at the vèvès around her wrist; the Radio Demon’s magic.

“Do a lady a favor and escort her home, would you? I'll make it worth your while,” Rosie offered.

Aelia was not certain she could trust the wide-smiling woman, but there was an air of kindliness about her that put her a little at ease. Besides, she was more than capable of protecting herself if she needed to.

“Of course.”

Rosie chuckled and continued down the street. Cannibal Colony was not far. As the two walked in silence, Aelia took a moment to steal herself. There was a lot to take in, and honestly, all of it felt like a bad dream. Who knew Hell was so colorful? It was a bit frightening, to be honest.

“Don't lose your pluck, my dear. I still need you.”

Did she fail him? Surely this is not where he wanted her to end up. Though, thinking about it, Alastor being a denizen of Hell made sense. Aelia knew he was not a product of the abuse; he was real. An angel or a demon, the former is what she believed, however. But hell, angels did not condone murder. Did they?

“Stay close to me, Miss Aelia,” Rosie ordered. “As quaint as it is here, you do not want to wander off on your own, especially dressed like that.”

Aelia raised a brow. What was wrong with the way she was dressed? She still had on her prison attire, so she reckoned Rosie had a point.

An old-timey town came into view, plucked straight from the early 1900s. It was quaint, as Rosie had stated, but what concerned Aelia the most was the town sign, which declared that she was in ‘Cannibal Colony’. Fuck. Where did she let Rosie take her?

The few people who passed her by, dressed in elegant attire, gave Rosie and her a wide berth, but that did not stop them from eyeing the winged woman like a piece of raw meat.

“Morning, Miss Rosie,” a wide-smiling gentleman greeted her as he approached. “I see you brought back a succulent-looking guest.”

Rosie chuckled, resting her hand against her chest.

“And a guest she is. Treat her as such.”

The man’s smile faltered a bit, but he took his hat off to Aelia and then hastened down the street. The latter found this weird but she did not comment on it. Whoever Rosie was, the denizens of ‘Cannibal Colony’ did not look down on her. She was not sure if this was a good thing or not.

“And here we are,” the said woman declared, raising a pale hand toward a charming little store with a striped awning.

The sign above the door read: Franklin and Rosie, Emporium.

“You live here?” Aelia asked.

“Mixed-use property is beneficial,” Rosie remarked. “And I like to look after my assets.”

Aelia could understand that. But what sort of investments did the elegant woman own? Emporiums often cover a wide range of products.

As they approached, Rosie snapped her fingers and the double doors opened. Aelia was in awe, even more so when she saw the interior of the establishment. It was gorgeous with a wide variety of different goods; everything from clothing to vintage radios.

A familiar style caught her eye, and Aelia narrowed her eyes in fondness. Much to her dismay, the Atwood Kent brand she owned was confiscated by the authorities when she was arrested. But during her final hours, instead of a last meal, she requested it back, getting to speak to Alastor one last time.

Unbeknownst to her, Rosie was watching in interest, taking note of the neon pink heart that replaced the pupil in her right eye.

How curious.

Her wings even raised in elation. It was sort of cute.

“You know, at first I thought you were a succubus or a fallen angel, but you don't look much like either up close,” Rosie mentioned.

Her wings were placed at her center of gravity and feathered. No, she was not a Hellborn Succubus, but she looked like one. Her body even reacted to arousal as though she was one. There was only one more explanation Rosie could think of.

“What I have come to learn here is that a sinner such as you takes on the appearance and abilities of whatever aspects they had during their former life. You must have been a promiscuous one.”

Aelia hummed.

“I suppose. But after a while, someone stole my heart.

Rosie chuckled. What did the Radio Demon say to her? He wormed himself deep into her head, it seemed. The overseer of Cannibal Colony raised a brow in interest. While she was curious as to what Alastor had been up to - his seven-year absence was a thing of mystery - she did not pry. The incurable romantic he made a deal with probably did not know either.

The clack of heels on the floor diverted Aelia’s attention to a woman similar in appearance to Rosie with brown hair. Her smile widened as she saw the newcomer.

“You brought home a treat, I see.”

“A guest, Franklin,” Rosie corrected. She sauntered behind the counter. “What were you up to?”

Franklin eyed the winged sinner a moment then turned to her business partner.

“Counting the stock before extermination day. Lucifer only knows how chaotic the colony gets before then, buying up everything on the shelves.”

Aelia raised a brow. What was extermination day?

“It's business,” Rosie chuckled. “If you are not currently busy, I need you to retrieve something for me; that red vile on my desk.”

Franklin left without a word to retrieve it. After all, the two could finally be rid of it.

A month ago, one of Alastor’s minions wandered into the shop and gave Rosie a potion in a red vial. The minion stated that a lost soul would soon come to Pentagram City, one that could be recognized by the Radio Demon’s mark. It was not certain whether Rosie would meet them before Alastor’s return, but if she happened to, then as a favor to him, he asked that she give them the vial.

It was after all just a simple means to transport Aelia to wherever he currently was. Rosie could easily transport her, but she did not know where Alastor was staying.

Once Franklin returned, she handed the Overlord the vial and hurried off to finish her current job not knowing that soon her number would be up.

Rosie turned the glass vial and sat it upright on its pointed base, chuckling as Aelia stared in awe.

“This is a gift.”

Reminded to never look a gift horse in the face, Aelia picked the vial up and widened her eyes as the vèvès around her wrist began to glow.

“What is in this?” She asked.

“A little magic mixed with blood and some water to help it go down easier,” Rosie answered honestly.

Aelia nearly groaned in disgust.

“Thank you. I guess.”

Rosie chuckled.

“You are most welcome. It was not me who wanted you to have this vial though.”

Aelia thought so.

“Who? Was it the one who put the vèvès on me?”

It made the most logical sense, considering the symbols reacted to the potion.

“There is only one way to find out. You need to drink it,” Rosie remarked. She reached over the counter and brushed the sinner’s hair behind her ear. “But first, let's make you more presentable.”

Snapping her fingers, the clothes that Aelia wore manifested into a navy blue evening gown with white lace. She was not much of a dress person, but she appreciated being out of her prison clothes. Her wings even fit through holes in the back.

“Thank you, Miss Rosie.”

The said woman motioned with her hand for Aelia to continue. With hesitation, she did so, removing the stopper from the top and putting the vial to her lips. As she drank, Rosie tilted it back making sure she consumed it all. The taste made her want to gag.

“Now what?” Aelia asked with a grimace.

She did not feel any different, though her tattoo was glowing.

“Goodbye, dear. I do hope we meet again,” Rosie remarked with a wide grin.

Before Aelia could attempt a response, the world around her vanished. Then in the blink of an eye, she materialized in the living room of a lodge.

That was…quick.

But where was she?

Aeila sauntered over to the closest window and looked outside. The sky still appeared red, so she assumed she was still within the city limits, though she could not see a single house in either direction; all she could see were leafless dead trees. She had not noticed it before, but the sky had a large pentagram in it.

As she took in the scenery, a sudden dark and ominous shadow loomed over her. Then all at once, the buzzing sound of radio static filled the air.

“Salutations,” a voice greeted. “I admit, I was not expecting you so soon.”

Alastor.

Aelia felt faint. Her wings raised in elation and she turned quickly in the hope that her mind was not playing tricks on her.

In the doorway to the kitchen, a slim well-dressed man with a shark-like smile stood. He tilted his head to the side, observing her. Based on her appearance and the fact she was standing before him, he reckoned Rosie had found her.

“Didn't I tell you not to fret?”

Aelia widened her eyes, unaware of the hearts in her pupils. It was him; he was standing before her.

“You're not just a voice on the radio?”

“Indeed I'm not. But let's not sweat the details,” Alastor remarked. “Tell me, how do you feel about Jambalaya?”

Aelia licked her lips. A strange yet pleasing heat consumed her.

“I'm starving.”

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #oc #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor hazbin hotel #murderer oc #Spotify

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aralisj · 4 months

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So I went to see the Mexican production of Anastasia and I have a lot of feelings and thoughts:

Like the tour and international productions, there's a cut from Learn to Do It, and Crossing a Bridge is replaced with Paris Holds the Key (Reprise)- which is a damn shame because if there ever was an Anya that could do justice to Crossing a Bridge that's Mariana Dávila (apparently, she has an almost three octave range? The fuck?!)

Javier Manente (Dmitry) is 1.86m (6'2'') and Mariana Dávila (Anya) is 1.56m (5'2'') which is just insane.

And so Javi honors the ancient Dima tradition of being more of a mover than a dancer, way too tall, handsome and with the voice of an angel 🥰

Mariana is a powerhouse - her voice is stunning and her rendition of In My Dreams will haunt me for months.

Christy and Derek's dynamic was very confrontational for Act 1, very movie Dimya, while Mariana and Javi are more of a hopeful/cynic vibe which also works very well.

Manuel Corta's Vlad is more of a tenor than a baritone so that makes some of the harmonies sound a little hollow but that's me nitpicking because his voice is lovely.

He is short, taller than Anya but shorter than Lily - which makes for a few comedic beats to hit harder, mainly choreography and the line "from the first moment I saw you, I knew I was beneath you".

Carlos Quezada's Gleb is probably the slimiest I've seen yet (Ramin, Max and Constantine). In the scene in his office, instead of grabbing Anya by the arm to stop her from leaving, he grabs her by the waist and talks into her hair?!?! It doesn't help that the translation of Still emphasizes how childlike and innocent Anya is (yikes 😬). The vibes are fatal attraction and the last confrontation feels very much like Anya would rather die than be Gleb's which is a different take for sure.

Even if I didn't love his take on the character, his voice was incredible, he played up the growl at the end of Still into an almost metal/rock thing that I loved

(I just found out that he previously played Scar in The Lion King and Javert in Les Mis which makes so much sense in retrospect)

All song translations are the same as the Madrid production, except for Journey to the Past where they use the translation from the movie (God I wish they had done that for Once Upon a December too)

In the almost kiss for In a Crowd of Thousands they got so close 👀 Christy and Derek left a little room for Jesus between them and usually grabbed each other by the forearms. My boy Javi went straight to cup Mariana's face and touch her hair while she touched his hands and tugged at his shirt!!! Real romantic stuff

Their voices sound so nice together (if you haven't heard their cover of Hadestown you should)

Lily was fucking incredible. The dance scenes! I always thought it was crazy that she had two consecutive dance heavy numbers and she delivered!!! Her singing was superb at all times.

The ballet number was so good!!! All the dancers got a big ovation

Experiencing Stay I Pray You live? I felt it inside my chest, I was so close to tears! (I missed Constantine's voice though 😩)

Irasema Terrazas as The Dowager was amazing, she has that old timey, 1940s starlet quality to her voice that is just mesmerizing.

The costumes are very pretty, lovely quality, and almost the same as Broadway's. If I remember correctly, the ones that were markedly different in terms of fabric were Lily's Neva dress and press dress, and Gleb's coat. The silhouettes are pretty much the same (though The Paris Holds the Key dress was very much a maxi skirt on Mariana 🤭)

#i felt like a seasoned professional but also like a little kid <3 #anastasia #anastasia mexico

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usafphantom2 · 2 months

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F-35 pilot explains how an F-117 was shot down in 1999

F-117A Nighthawk,Aircraft, Fighter, Photo by TSgt Marvin Lynchard.Primary Function: Fighter, Bomber. Contractor: Lockheed Aeronautical Systems Co. Speed: High Subsonic. Dimensions: Wingspan 43 ft. 4 in., length 65 ft. 11 in., height 12 ft. 5 in. Range: Unlimited with air refueling. Armament: Internal weapons carriage able to employ a variety of weapons. Crew: pilot only

The F-117 was one of the most innovative aircraft ever developed and the culmination of decades of research into stealth technology. Nearly invisible to radar, it was designed to be America’s silver bullet against the Soviet Union. Its primary mission was to penetrate deep into enemy territory and destroy the most heavily defended targets. Even though its first flight came in 1981, it wasn’t known to the public – and even to most in the government – until 1988. Today, many still refer to this aircraft as the “stealth fighter,” despite lacking any air-to-air capabilities and specifically filling an attack role.

The aircraft’s first true test came during the Gulf War. There, despite making up less than three percent of the coalition aircraft, F-117s attacked over 30 percent of the targets, primarily in Baghdad, the most heavily defended city in the world at the time. The F-117 continued to dominate during the war destroying over 1,500 high-value targets without a single loss.

However, one of the sayings we have in the fighter pilot community is that “the enemy always gets a vote.” What this means is that no matter how good your intel is, how clever you think you are, or how inferior the enemy appears to be, they always reserve the right to do something you aren’t expecting. Using their ingenuity and will to win, they can choose a course of action that catches you off guard and forces you to react. A good example of this is Col. Dale Zelko’s second mission during the Kosovo War.

The F-117A Nighthawk has sometimes been known as the “stealth fighter” despite being an attack aircraft. (Wikimedia Commons)

In 1999, on the fourth night of the war, Col. Zelko took off into the night in his F-117 Nighthawk.

Opposite of Col. Zelko, as he lifted off into the night, was a Yugoslavian commander named Zoltan Dani. Zoltan was in charge of a ground-based SA-3 surface-to-air missile battery. Designed in the 1950s, its short-range and fragile design made the SA-3 obsolete and relegated to second-tier militaries by the time of the Kosovo War. Yet, Zoltan was innovative and experienced.

Fifteen years earlier, Zoltan had seen Israel destroy 29 of 30 Syrian surface-to-air missile sites in under two hours during the 1982 Lebanon War. This led him to understand that mobility was the key to survival. Although the SA-3 was intended to be an unmovable static site, he found that with training, his men could break it down and pack it up on trucks in less than 90 minutes. This allowed him to move several times a day, making it difficult for NATO intel to find him.

Related: The Air Force made Lockheed’s Skunk Works design a stealth pole

An S-125 Neva SAM of Serbian Army 250th Air Defense Brigade on display at Batajnica airbase during the Batajnica 2019 open day. (Photo by Srđan Popović)

His primary threats were HARM missiles shot by escort aircraft: They honed in when his radar was turned on, but became ineffective as soon as he turned it off. This led him to develop a strict rule of using his radar for no more than 40 seconds in one location. He further increased his survivability by building homemade decoys out of confiscated Iraqi Mig-21 radars. He placed these decoys on the outskirts of his site to lure away any missiles shot at him.

On the night Col. Zelko and Zoltan met, the weather was poor, causing all NATO aircraft to cancel their missions except the eight F-117s operating in the theater. Zoltan had received word of the aircraft taking off as the Yugoslavian military had spies around the NATO bases, allowing it to know the composition of the strike packages, along with a rough time frame of the attack.

Related: Lockheed Martin has now built 1,000 F-35s

Col. Zelko (Wikimedia Commons)

As Col. Zelko approached his target, Zoltan ordered his radar on for 20 seconds, but couldn’t find the stealthy aircraft. Knowing the F-117 would be out of range within a minute, he ordered it back on for 20 seconds. He and his men desperately tried to find the nearly invisible aircraft as the seconds ticked by. As the clock hit zero his men, dejected, knew they had to begin the process of relocating. Instead, Zoltan, against his previous guidance, ordered the radar on for a third time – Zoltan knew the escort aircraft hadn’t taken off, and therefore wasn’t in danger of a HARM missile strike.

At 8:15 p.m. local time, Zoltan found Col. Zelko just as he was releasing his bombs since, as Col. Zelko’s weapons bay doors were open, for several seconds he was no longer invisible to radar. Zoltan immediately ordered two missile launches and maintained the radar lock even after the doors closed.

Less than a minute later, Col. Zelko spotted the missiles.

“They were moving at three times the speed of sound, so there wasn’t much time to react,” he said. “I felt the first one go right over me, so close that it rocked the aircraft. Then I opened my eyes and turned my head, and there was the other missile. The impact was violent. I was at negative seven Gs. My body was being pulled out of the seat upward toward the canopy. As I strained to reach the ejection handles, one thought crossed my mind: This is really, really, really bad.”

F-117 parts recovered from Col. Zelco’s crash. (Wikimedia Commons)

Fortunately, through a heroic effort, Col. Zelko was rescued and within weeks was flying missions again. However, Zoltan’s innovative tactics had dealt a large blow to NATO forces, particularly from a propaganda standpoint. He had a “vote” to behave differently than NATO mission planners and leadership had expected. Underestimating the Yugoslavian air defenses led to several mistakes in the planning process which led to Zoltan exploiting them and downing an F-117.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in 2021; it has been edited for republication. It was written by U.S. Air Force F-35 pilot, best-selling author, and prominent YouTuber, Hasard Lee. Make sure to check out his “The Art of Clear Thinking” book if you like this article!

@HazardLee

@SandboxxNews

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headingalaxys-spicy · 1 year

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Hello ! Can I request an headcanon for Russia please ? Russia has been in a relationship with a human (gender neutral please) for almost a decade and one day he decides to tell them that he's a nation. After the confession his s/o decides to reveal to him that they're not human but immortal (like they were born in France at the beginning of the 19th century, so they are about 200 years old), how would Russia reacts ?

Thank you in advance, have a nice day ❤

Incoming fluffy post. I don't know why; just this ask filled my mind with clouds.

Enjoy anon~

From the outset of an innocent romance that began when you were in Tomsk. You had seen a tall and imposing giant on the opposite side of the lake looking over at you. At first, his stance toward you seemed ominous. He looked like a legend of a summer Yeti, greyish blond locks slightly rustled in the wind, ever still and watching from the foliage out at other humans that he knows whose lives are transient like that of the mosquitos other small insects that buzz incessantly in his ears. He'd been watching you for a while now since your arrival in the spring to a small cottage home built of pure stone.

Since you were new, you paid him no mind. For he only seemed to appear at random times through the first couple of months. You kept track of the times that you would see the "man beneath the trees" A fun little pastime while adjusting to the new realities of being in a new nation. It was fun and also extremely depressing at times.

You wouldn't be lonely for much longer. Though for one day, he brought his eager cat, who go overzealous and dived into the river. Somehow it swam fast over to your side of the river.

'My owner needs to be bold and get a grip. This is the only way to accomplish it.' As the Siberian Forest Cat speeds away even though it's coat was heavily laden with water from the pristine lake.

From that point on, he finally decided to talk to you. It started a decades-long relationship. That involved long nights walking through secret botanical gardens only he knew about to old war sites that carried history that he deemed essential to him. Some days would be filled with frigid silence after an argument. Others were strange where you only wanted to hold his hand, but not hear his voice. The extreme highs reached the icy tips of Mount Elbrus to the deep lows of the murky black sea. Your type of love is enduring, real, and rare.

Which is why it was easier ...yet still vexing for him because losing you would be a detriment to him, but it could also be spellbindingly exciting. He would no longer have to edit his feeling and speech with you. He could lament about his past and sing you the songs of which he sang while he was lonely.

You were in the same place where you met him when he decided to let the truth soar into the sky.

"Y/N?" He grips your hand tighter than usual. It was a polar bear grip that he had whenever he'd had a harsh truth to tell you. This action pulls you out of your mind and away from the blooming sunflower fields that were only 15 ft away from your vision. You maneuver your now worried eyes up towards his glowing lavender shades. His face is still primarily unreadable. You knew you had to depend on his subtle gestures to read him. You turned your body to face him, and you felt a little wobbly on the grassy ground that had small sprouts, lightly sweeping your snow shoes.

"Ivan."

"I'm a nation. Which means that I'm immortal and I've been alive for hundreds of years. I'm not like you at all but....You're one of the only beings to ever struggle with what love is, and I....." The words came rushing from his mouth like the Neva river reaching the Gulf. He wanted the unpleasant moment to be over in a flash. He know he'd lose you now. You'd think he's crazy, power-hungry, a mons-

A lone hand gently caresses his face to ease his fears. You're unsure of how to react to a confession like that. You don't accuse him of lies or of trying to gain some sort of tiktok fame. You simply just stay silent and allow you smile to bring the sunshine that he's always loved gleaming over his tattered soul. It was a safe haven for him.

"What's wrong sweetheart? If you're afraid you'll lose me because of the confession well consider that fear invalid."

You reached up onto your toes to give him a reassuring cheek kiss. He will in turn accept and let his cheeks go full flush. His face is as red as the last stripe in his flag.

"Y/N?" He asks again as his heart quivers, he's unsure of how to handle the host of new feelings that come along with being as free as a songbird released from it's cage.

If you got Russia of all nations to confess that he’s a nation… Holy Shit that’s a lot of emotional labor that you put into the relationship. Not only that he’s the hardest to get to confess.

This is a topic that the two of you will have to work out over time. You’re going to be shell-shocked by the truth for a while so much so to where you do leave for a while to work out how you feel. Although during that time you reassure Ivan that you don’t hate him, it’s just a lot to consider. Since he trusts you, he doesn’t freak out about your sudden trip back to your home country. He knows that you need time to process. He’s witnessed you when you’ve been baffled and acknowledges that you need space. Although right before you leave and right after you come back, he will be high-level of clingy. So be prepared for that. You’re the longest stable and HEALTHY relationship he’s ever had so he doesn’t want to mess it up. However, since the foundation of your relationship is solid and not transactional in any manner. His confession to being a nation will draw the two of you together closer.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the day. You didn't need to. For the sturdy foundation of trust that was already built was enough for you to not worry about what he said but now you were curious as to what the real implications of his confession would be. But none of it scared you or made you anxious. For as long as you had trust that flowed freely between the two of you, nothing else mattered. You grabbed both of his thickly gloved hands and looked him dead in the eyes.

"I love you, Ivan Braganski." as a bold proclamation as if you were about to implement an immediate takeover. You rose to your feet once again and the sprouts seemed to bloom and push you upwards so that you could give him a gentle kiss.

#ivan braginski #hws russia #hetalia fluff #hetalia fandom #hetalia fanfiction writer #hetalia fanfiction #my writing is HIGHLY influenced by Banana Yoshimoto #she's my muse #headingalaxys #hws #hetalia #headingalaxys writes stuff #headingalaxys sweet #headingalaxys writes headcannons #hetalia headcannons #aph russia #hetalia x reader #hetalia x you

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

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taunter 7 but not anything with fighting just jack and reader when they've just met and reader is challenging jack to tell them something juicy 👀

- 🌱

prompt seven: “you’re… boring me.”

"Oh come off it love, I'm not gonna tell you how I got it."

Dozens of eyes along The Pearl wandered back and forth between two figures in front of them like a match of intense tennis, the entire crew silently watching as a man with ratty hair and a fellow crew member walked in fast circles about the deck. Occasionally one of the men in the crowd would silently wisper something to another before going quiet, all but enraptured by the interaction occurring in front of them.

"Damnit, Captain, this would be so much easier if you would just tell me alteady!"

It had been an hour or two since you had set off after the heels of your captain—Jack Sparrow. And it had been about an hour or two of him of avoiding questions that slipped from your mouth, all of them being about the tattoo on his right ankle.

You'd seen all of his tattoos before. From his signature sparrow to the one of a compas between his shoulder blades. He didn't have one spot of ink on his skin that he hadn't already shown off to you. Or at least that's what you'd thought.

"Jack—" You struggled to keep up with his long strides, the both of you practically speed walking at this point. "—you're going to have to tell me eventually."

"Oh yeah? Why's that." He was avoiding your gaze while walking in that weird fashion of his, looking anywhere but at you.

"Becuase, you're boring me. And eventually I'll give up on this—"

"Yes! That one! Do that one." He loosely pointed at you and flashed a smile.

"—and get you drunk later so you'll tell me what that tattoo is. And possibly some other stuff you don't want me to know."

"Ah." Jack paused, blinking. "Not that one. Don't do that one."

"So, we've come to an agreement then?" You stopped, now in front of him and blocking him from going anywhere else, smiling with a twinkle in your eyes.

"When did you get so good at tricking people into giving you stuff." Jack squinted at you, playing with a peice of his hair carelessly.

"Pirate." You reached up to tap the side of Jacks hat. "Remember?"

"Mmmm alright then. But I'm taking some of your rum from your hammock as a payment for entrusting you with this secret."

You stood up a bit straighter, smile bright with antici as he hoisted up his pant leg to show you the spot of ink on his ankle.

It wasn't much. Just a small design of a heart, which made your smile dip a little.

"A heart? That's it?" You looked back up at him, a bit of the light in your eyes gone at the new discovery.

"Right that. My ex–wife insisted that I get it."

You froze.

"Ex–wife!?"

"Not so loud love!" Jack shushed you violently, now suddenly very aware of the crowd he had garnered, reaching out to you with his hands like he wanted to clamp one down over your mouth.

"Ex–wife. You. Jack Sparrow. With an ex–wife." The words felt foreign on your tounge.

"Is it so heard to belive I could catch myself a dame?" He queried, striking what was probably meant to come off as an attractive pose, but ended up looking like a drunk trying to dance.

"Yes!"

"Ouch. Blow to the ego that was." He frowned at you a little, parodying your shocked expression sarcastically.

"You're neva gonna let this go, are you?" He sighed.

You just quickly shook your head no silently, mind already filling with questions.

"Well bugger."

#potc #potc x y/n #potc x you #potc x reader #pirates of the carribean #pirates of the carribean x y/n #pirates of the carribean x you #pirates of the carribean x reader #jack sparrow #jack sparrow x y/n #jack sparrow x you #jack sparrow x reader #request #drabble #x reader

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lyranova · 6 months

Text

So Sweet

Hiya guys! So this is a Vampire YuNeva fic I decided to write for Halloween and is a kind of sequel to @thoughtfullyrainynightmare ‘s fic she wrote a year or so ago (which you can read HERE), and I hope you all enjoy~!

Word Count: 1,924

Warnings: Mentions of blood, typical Vampire stuff

————

Neva hummed a soft melody as she walked back into her room after taking a shower. She had returned from a small mission earlier that evening and was now getting ready to go to sleep.

As she sat down at her vanity, and tied her long, still damp platinum hair in a loose bun, her mind began to wander. Wander to the only friend she had in the squad, the one she could only meet in the evenings due to his vampirism; Yuno.

The two had known each other for a year now, and their relationship hadn’t changed very much. They met every evening, would talk for hours, and then would make a plan to do the same thing the next day.

There were a few times where the two were unable to meet at night, and that was usually when one of them was gone on a mission. Whenever that happened, Neva couldn’t help but feel a sadness, a longing, in her chest. She loved their nightly conversations, even the ones where they said nothing at all, and so when she couldn’t have those conversations she felt…lonely.

But, was it the conversations that she missed? Or was it the person she was conversing with that she missed so much?

Neva felt her face flush at the thoughts and quickly shook her head. She wanted to deny that was the case but…found that she couldn’t.

Over the course of the last year, as they learned about each other and grew closer and closer, she found that she was beginning to like him more and more. Even going as far as to say she was in love with him. Even though he wasn’t human, but instead was a vampire.

But whenever she thought Yuno felt the same, she noticed it looked like a wall would go up between them. An impenetrable wall.

Neva almost laughed again, usually it was her that put up the wall.

The woman jumped when she heard a crack of thunder suddenly ring out, and watched as a heavy rain began to pour down the building and hit against the window. It was a torrential downpour if she had ever seen one.

She turned as she suddenly felt a presence at her bedroom door. She quickly stood up, walked towards it, and pulled it open to see just the person she was thinking about.

Yuno.

But as she looked him up and down she noticed something was wrong. His uniform was soaking wet, his dark hair was matted down around his pale face, and his amber eyes looked tired and worn out.

“ Yuno, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, her voice full of concern. She stepped aside to allow him to enter her room, which he did so glady.

His movements were slow and sluggish as he moved to sit down on the edge of her bed, it was like he had a tiring day and was exhausted. It almost made him seem…human.

“ Nothing, just…not feeling great.” He admitted as he looked down at the floor. Neva quickly closed the door behind her and walked over to him.

“ ‘Not feeling great’? What do you mean?” She asked as she crouched down in front of him, and Yuno suddenly raised his head to look at her.

“ I mean…you need to call Owen and have him come here, and you need to stand over there.” He muttered with a strained smile as he pointed to the opposite side of the room.

Neva frowned at his words before she realized what was going on; he was weak, probably from the mission he took earlier, and he needed to eat.

He needed blood.

She nodded before standing up and walking over to where her communication device sat. She called Owen, and after explaining everything to him he sighed.

“ I’ll try to get there as soon as I can, but because of this storm it’ll be a while. So for now…Yuno will just have to endure.” Owen said, his voice soft. Yuno stood up, snatched the communication device, and began to talk into it.

“ If you can’t come to me, then I’ll come to you.” He said as he turned around to face away from Neva.

“ In your condition? I’m sorry Yuno, but in your condition…you’ll either pass out before you get here, or you’ll accidentally hurt someone.” Owen said softly, and Yuno growled.

He said something quietly into the communication device, something Neva couldn’t hear, and she heard Owen respond with an ‘I know’ and a ‘just hang on a while’ before the device went dark and he sighed in irritation.

“ Looks like…it’ll be a while.” He muttered as he sat back down on the bed, and Neva nodded as she leaned against her vanity.

The two then sat in silence, for how long, neither knew. It had been longer than five minutes, but less than an hour. It was a somewhat tense silence, but also a very worried one. Neva could see Yuno’s hands trembling even as he tried to hide it, like he low blood sugar, or was holding himself back.

Or perhaps, it was both?

Neva looked down at her arm, she knew he would most likely refuse, and there would be an argument. But she didn’t care. He was sick, he was in pain, and he needed help.

So she was going to help him.

Yuno frowned when he suddenly heard an odd noise, as well as a small burst of mana, and his head shot up quickly and his amber eyes widened.

Neva had hardened her nails, and was about to make a cut on her arm, just like she had the night he told her he was a vampire.

“ Neva don’t!”

He quickly reached out towards her and grabbed her hand firmly but was a little late, as a small cut appeared on her arm and the room suddenly began to fill with her blood's aroma.

To a human, it would smell of iron as it normally did. But to Yuno, blood smelled completely different. Depending on the person it could smell any number of ways; for Captain Vangeance it smelled woodsy, for Owen it smelled salty like sea water, and for Neva…

It smelled so warm and sweet, like a fresh loaf of bread, or maybe a pastry.

And he silently wondered; would it taste as sweet as it smelled?

Yuno quickly shook his head and covered her arm with his hand as he closed his now burning red eyes. He had to control himself, he had to!

“ What are you doing? Don’t you need it?” Neva asked, and she frowned when he sighed.

“ I’m fine. I’ll be fine until Owen gets here.” Yuno told her, his voice strained, and she scoffed.

“ You’re obviously far from fine! Even Owen said you could collapse if you don’t eat, so please, take it.” She pleaded softly, but he shook his head again.

“ I won’t.”

“ Why not?”

“ Because…because…” Yuno trailed off, his muddled brain trying to find the right words. He had so many reasons why he didn’t want to feed from her, so how could possibly narrow it down?

“ Aside from the fact that I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m scared I might lose control since I’m so weak, when I’m with you, I feel human. You make me feel like I’m a normal human being, we talk like people do, we sit together, and we even get to have meals together. Well, you get to have a meal and I get to watch you.” He said with an amused smile before he continued.

“ If I take your blood, I’ll only ruin what we have. It’ll destroy this little human fantasy of mine and I…I don’t want to ruin it, I want us to stay like this for a little while longer, I want to pretend to be a human with you. So please…don’t do this.”

Neva watched as Yuno looked up at her with pleading and desperate eyes. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest and her face flush, he…felt human around her? He wanted to keep playing human with her? He…wanted them to stay this way?

If she looked too much into his words, she would mistake this as a confession…

“ Humans bleed for each other all the time, for their friends, families, squad members…for the people they love,” Neva began softly as she looked down at Yuno. “ You’re sick, and you need help, so I will gladly bleed for you. Because…I like you, and care about you…and I don’t want you to die.”

If Yuno’s heart was still beating, he had a feeling it would have stopped dead in his chest at her words.

“ So please, just take it…and get better so I don’t lose my only friend, and one of the only humans I know.” She pleaded softly, cutting her arm a little more so more blood would come out.

Yuno swallowed the lump in his throat as blood began to appear on her pale skin before it began to run off and land on the floor with quiet ‘drips’ almost mimicking the sound of the rain hitting the roof outside.

As he stared he could feel his self control slip away, and a more…carnal side of him begin to appear. His face inched closer and closer, the sound of Neva’s heart beating, and the rush of her blood, drummed in his ears loudly. Her body tensed, which made him smirk a bit, despite her strong determination she was still so nervous.

He could feel his teeth growing and sharpening as his mouth hovered over her skin. He couldn’t afford to lose control, he didn’t want to hurt her, but her blood smelt so sweet…so alluring…that he just had to have a taste.

Neva closed her eyes, anticipating a bit of pain when Yuno bit down onto her arm. But instead, she felt something soft pressed down onto her arm. She opened her eyes, looked down, and let out a quiet gasp.

Instead of Yuno biting into her arm like she thought, instead he was placing sweet and chaste kisses onto her cut. His tongue poked out just enough so he could have a small taste. He kissed more and more up her arm, leaving a faint trail of blood from his lips behind, until he pulled away. His usually pale pink lips were suddenly stained bright red as he stared at her.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her slightly exposed collarbone, and trailed it up her neck, up her face, before he placed one last kiss on the top of her head.

“ Thank you, Neva.” Yuno told her softly as he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, a faint smile on his face.

“ But…you didn’t drink any…” Neva trailed off, her voice full of confusion as her heart pounded nervously.

“ I did. But only a little bit from my lips. Your blood is a little too sweet, so it’s better if I don’t over indulge.” Yuno told her, and he watched the platinum blonde haired girl pout.

“ ‘Sweet’? I was hoping it would be spicy or something more fitting.” She pouted, Yuno chuckled as he reached over and grabbed a few tissues and placed them onto her cut.

“ I don’t know, I think your blood being sweet is very fitting.” He told her softly, his voice full of amusement.

Neva’s face flushed and she quickly looked away, making him chuckle softly as he cleaned up her wound.

————

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#black clover #black clover fanfiction #black clover oc fanfiction #black clover oc #oc neva #yuno grinberryall #black clover yuno #yuneva #yuno x neva #neva x yuno

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sorceress-queen · 5 months

Note

Hi! for the spotify ask: 6, 18, and 27

Also I think it'd be neat if you wrote a fic based on the lyrics if you feel inspired 😊

Not going to lie this took an unexpected turn with one of the little fics I made based on the songs 🙈. Hope you enjoy! And thank you! Wouldn't mind trying my hand at doing more tbh.

6.: Still/The Neva Flows (reprise) by Ramin Karimloo & Christy Altomare (song from the Anastasia musical)

🎶 The children

Their voices

A man makes painful choices

He does what's necessary, Anya

For Russia, my beauty

What choice but simple duty 🎶

Short fic set around after s2 and between s3 possibly, the seasons mush together in my head

The screams from the druid camps haunt Arthur in his sleep, the women, the men, but most of all it is the children that come back to him at night during his dreams.

He tells himself that it is for the greater good, that magic only ever brought pain and destruction upon Camelot, upon his kingdom, whenever he awakens in the morning, still shaken by what he saw by what he did.

Perhaps, this is why he takes part in any and all raids himself, not only because he is searching for Morgana. That he has to be present, needs to do his duty, follow in his father's footsteps.

Where else could he go now?

He is not King yet, he can't backtrack on his father's stance on magic, and after all he has seen, Arthur cannot bring himself to readily accept magic as a force for good. Morgause was the one that took Morgana away, magic took his mother away, magic... made his father into what he is.

Made Arthur what he is. A man makes painful choices, a Prince has no choice in the duties he has to do. At least that is what he tells himself after another scorhed camp, more cries to fill his head, another day to add to the tally of Morgana being gone. Arthur cannot imagine what she would think of him if she knew what he has been doing. He could argue about the necessities of his actions, but he knows that it would be a futile argument with Morgana; but there is nothing he wouldn't give to have her shout his head off, to hear her voice again.

18. Please by Daisy Jones & The Six

🎶 Please, I'm down on my knees

I have a family

Please, it's an awful disease 🎶

🎶Oh, please give me a second chance

Please, I'm the worst at this

I need you to say no, please🎶

Arthur & Morgana have an affair, set in modern times, smutty, honestly pure filth, he is cheating on his wife

Arthur knows he should not be railing the raven-haired woman, Morgana, on top of his desk inside his office, not with the party happenong outside. Not with his wife present, his father present. But he cannot help himself with her, one look, one suggestive curl of those red lips of hers and he is a goner. His mouth latches onto her neck, his grip on her thighs tightening as his lips brush against her necklace, his gift for her birthday from a year ago.

The pendant dangles low between her breasts, an inscription within it, a short quote from the book she gave him for Christmas, three years ago. The blond man looks up at her as he pulls back from her neck, desperate to catch at least a glimpse of her pleasured expression, of Morgana with her guard down, a sight he came to treasure and desire to possess more than anything in the world.

Her fingers curl in his hair and without a word he pulls away from her completely and gets between her spread legs, he eats her out, like a man famished. He does not stop until he has her begging and even then he goes on some more before composing himself enough to stand and cup her face in his hands making sure that she is alright.

He kisses her forehead as they embrace, her leg nudging his body to be flush against hers. "Morgana..." he starts, he truly should be stepping away now, for good, finish their affair once and for all. Return to the party, to his wife, but as his eyes meet hers again, his fate is sealed. Her mouth returns to his, her soft moans fill his ears, her scent, the feel of her around his length.

The cycle continues on, there is no end in sight, not between them, the constant push and pull that defines their entire relationship, makes it impossible for either of them to ever truly break up.

27. Cosimo & Contessina by Paolo Buonvino from the i Medici soundtrack, no lyrics (just vibes)

I suppose this is a half-baked attempt at the idea of Arthur as King and Morgana as Queen, once again au. I wrote this while listening to the music on repeat, and just jotting down what came to my mind.

They have built something together, a legacy to last for generations to come, the Pendragon name equal with that of legends. And yet there is a discord between them, there always has been.

A matter that brought great dichotomy for all that came to the royal court for an audience, to find the King and Queen be in disagreement over so many rulings and yet rule as one, have a family as one, a happy one at that. For as much as Arthur and Morgana disagreed on matters, there were many other causes they agreed on, found compromise if necessary.

Her fiery sense of justice found a home in the calmness of his own. While giving him room to express himself, to become the King he was always meant to be, to become what Camelot wanted, what she wanted.

And Morgana was the Queen that she was always meant to be, what she was born to be for Camelot. Having her champion by her side, having his ears on all matters, somebody she could confide in and sooth her worries, while she aided him in his own troubles.

#answered #arthur x morgana #ArMor #morgana x arthur #lyric fic #ooc answer #fanfic #writing

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