she looks like really the most beautiful woman in the kingdom

anonymous asked:

Maybe some time you could talk about Susan and what it would be like if she didn't desert Narnia

How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan?

What if, instead of sending a stag to lead them astray, the Pevensies had been given time to end their first rule– to have finished their reports, their negotiations and treaties, that letter in the bureau Lucy was half-done penning to Mrs. Beaver to thank her for the fruitcake and to ask about her grandchildren. 

They had lived there more than a decade then, grown from children to kings and queens, to brave young adults with responsibility heavy on their shoulders. They had lived through storms and wars, peace and joy, lost friends to battle and old age and distance. They had made a home. What if they had been given time to say good-bye? 

What if we didn’t tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn’t have again. 

There is nothing wrong with Lucy loving Narnia all her life, refusing an adulthood she didn’t want for a braver, brighter one she built herself. But there is also nothing wrong with Susan trying to find something new to fall in love with, something that might love her back. 

You can build things in lipsticks and nylons, if you don’t mind getting a few runs in them. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be pretty, especially when pretty is the only power left to you. 

Let’s talk about being the last one left. No, really, think about it. You get a call in the middle of the night, in the little flat you can just barely afford, and you are told there has been an accident. 

Think about it, that moment– you scramble over everyone you know, everyone you love, and try to figure out where they all are that night. There are things rushing in your gut, your fingertips, your lungs, your ears– there are words in your ears as the tinny, sympathetic voice starts to tell you: it is everyone. 

They were on a train. Something went wrong. They probably died instantly. A rushing sound. A bright light. (You try to imagine it, for years. You try not to think about it. You imagine it, for years–a rushing sound, a bright light.)

Your little sister, who you always felt the most responsible for, who you never understood, really– Your big brother, who disapproved of your choices but loved you with a steadiness you could never regret leaning into– Your little brother, a smug and arrogant ass except for the days when he drowned in self doubt– Ed was going to go far and you knew it, were waiting for it, were shoring up your defenses and your eye rolls for the days when he’d think he ruled the world–

Your mother is gone. Your father, with his stuffy cigar smell and big hands and the way he got distracted telling stories– he is gone. Your cousin Eustace, who suddenly lost that stick in his ass one summer. That friend of his, Jill, who you’d never actually quite met. Gone. A rushing sound. A bright light. 

Go on. Walk through this with me. You can’t sleep all night long, because you still can’t understand it, still can’t quite breathe in a world where you are the last Pevensie. You finally fade sometime between midnight and dawn and when you wake up you don’t remember for half a second. You think ugh and you think sunshine why and then you remember that you are an orphan, an only child. You remember there probably isn’t anyone else to handle the funeral arrangements. 

Get up. Make tea. Forget to eat breakfast and feel nauseous and empty all day. Call the people who need to be called. Your work, to ask for the time off. The mortuary, to ask about closed caskets. Distant relations. Friends. Edmund’s girlfriend and Peter’s boss. You listen to Lucy’s friends weep hysterics into the phone while you stare out the kitchen window and drink your fourth cup of tea. You call Professor Diggory, out at the old house with the wardrobe that started it all, and it rings and rings. You don’t find out for three days that he died in the train crash too. When you do, you stare at the newspaper article. You think of course

You are twenty one years old. You have ruled a kingdom, fought and won and prevented wars, survived exile and school and your first day as a working woman. Nothing has ever felt worse than this. You have a necklace in your dresser you meant to give your mother, because she loves rubies and this glass is painted a nice ruby red and it is all you can afford on your tiny wages. 

Excuse me, a correction: she loved rubies. She is dead. You never wear the necklace. You cry yourself to sleep for weeks. The first night you don’t cry, the first morning you wake up rested, you feel guilty. You wonder if that will live in the pit of your stomach all your life and you don’t know. The years reach out in front of you, miles and eons of loss. You are on the very shore of this grief and you do not know how you will survive feeling like this for the rest of your life. But you will survive it. 

Get up. Make tea. Make yourself eat breakfast. Make plans with a school friend to do lunch. Go to work and try to bury yourself in the busyness of it. Remember that you’d promised to lend Peter a hand with some task or other, but you don’t even remember what it was– Collapse. Hide in the bathroom until you’re breathing again. Redo your makeup and leave work the moment your shift is over. Drop your nylons and your sweater and your heels in the apartment hallway. Fall into bed and pull the covers over your head. 

Get up. Make tea. Eat. Don’t think about them for weeks. Don’t feel guilty when you remember. Feel proud. Spend an indulgent weekend in your pajamas, reading Lucy’s favorite novel and making Ed’s favorite cookies and remembering the way your mother smelled and how it always made you feel safe. Love them and miss them and mourn them. Keep breathing. Cry, but wash your face after in cool water. Wake in the morning to birdsong and spend three hours making breakfast just the way you like it. 

Imagine the next birthday, the next Christmas, the next time you hit one of those days that herald the passage of time, that tell you how much you’ve grown and how much they haven’t. 

Lucy, Peter, and Edmund will be at the same height for the rest of your life. Lucy will always be seventeen for the second time. You see, you think you know, when you lose them, what the dagger in you feels like. But it grows with you, that ache. You grow with it, too, learn how to live with that at your side but it grows, that ache, finds new ways to twist– 

At the first friend’s wedding you go to, you cry because it’s lovely, those two smiling and promising and holding hands– but you also cry because you wonder what Lucy would have looked like in white, joyous and smiling and promising the rest of her life to a boy who deserved her. 

Go on. You tell me if Susan deserted a world or if a whole life deserted her. You tell me who was left behind. 

So yes, let’s talk about it– what if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan? What if lipstick and nylons were things worn and not markers of worth? 

What if we had a story that told little girls they could grow up to be anything they wanted– all of Lucy’s glory and light, Susan’s pretty face and parties, the way Jill could move so quiet and quick through the trees? 

Because you know, some of those little girls? They were the little mothers, too old for their age, who worried and wondered, who couldn’t believe like Lucy or charge like Jill. Susan was reasonable, was hesitant and beautiful and gentle, was pretty and silly and growing up, and for it she was lost. She was left. And when Susan was left, so were they. 

The little girls who worried louder than they loved, who were nervous about climbing trees and who would never run after the mirage of a lion, who looked at the pretty women in the grocery store and wondered if they would grow up pretty too– some of them looked at their little clever doubting hands, after they read Peter and Eustace and Jill scoffing at Susan’s vanities, and they wondered what they were worth. 

Imagine a Narnia that believed in all of them. Imagine a Narnia that believed in adult women, lipsticked or not. Imagine Susan teaching Jill how to string a bow, arms straining. Imagine her brushing blush on Lucy’s cheeks, the first time Lu went out walking with a boy she was considering falling in love with. Imagine that when the last door to Narnia was shut, there was not a sister left behind. 

A Warm Welcome [h.s.]

A/N: here’s some hades!harry! Sorry if it’s shitty I’m trying to get back in the game! And sorry for any typos and mistakes! Enjoy :-)


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Being a god comes with a large bundle of heightened emotions and Harry honestly wishes that they came with an off switch. Celestial beings are called “celestial” for a reason, after all. They’re abnormally better than any human, and thus they must keep an attitude and air that enforces nothing less, but damn feelings for being able to get in the way so easily at times.

Gods must be calm and collected under the most extraneous situations, they must rule with an iron fist, and most importantly, they must forbid emotions from deterring them in any way. He’s not saying that he hates feeling emotions more intensely; some are worth the toil. Pleasure, for example, is felt tenfold what any human could handle and he can almost say that this alone makes the troubles worth it. But it’s moments such as now that bring forward overpowering feelings that he wishes he could cast aside: a dangerous mixture of excitement and anxiousness.

More specifically, the excitement and anxiousness that comes with the return of his beloved wife, Persephone (or as he calls her, Y/N), from being away for her given six months of the year.

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Today I want to look at traditional depictions of witches in both the west and in Japan, how the magical girl genre developed out of the blending of the two, Sailor Moon being a witch, not in a crappy Madoka Magica “corruption of innocence way”, just like, she’s a witch and, by extension, how this makes Vegeta a wizard?

Closed Captioning coming soon.

Transcript below:

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You better Marry her One Day (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Prompt/Request: ‘’Hi!! I really liked my last imagine that you wrote for me. Do you think you could write another Draco Malfoy imagine, where the reader meets his parents and she later overhears his mother telling Draco that he better marry the reader one day? Thanks!’’ -  abbeyshadowhunter

Word Count: 1,181.
Warning(s): Fluff, I guess?
Note: Thank you for the amazing request, I liked it to write. :) Hope you like it too! xx

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The nerves were killing you as you stood in front of the Malfoy Manor, a very big manor, almost like a castle with its own, little kingdom. Even though everything looked very clean and neat, it still had a very dark look. Yes, even when you were sorted in Slytherin and a pureblood, you still disliked dark colours. But following Draco his advice, you wore some black jeans, a dark blue shirt and a black leather jacket. To finish of your outfit, you wore black shoes, hoping the family wouldn’t hate it.

God, everything mattered if you thought about it. You were so concentrated on your appearance and manners you didn’t even realize someone opened the door already you had not even knocked on.

‘Good day darling, I’m assuming you’re Y/N?’ a woman with dark hair and dark clothes greeted you. In her hair were some grey locks and immediately you liked it the way she slowly accepted growing old. Well, that’s what you thought, maybe that was not the reason behind the grey locks after all.

You nodded and shook her hand, which reached out to you already. ‘Yes, Y/N Y/L/N. And you’re Draco’s mother?’ you questioned, not trying to sound rude at all as she led you in.

Inside it was dark too, as you expected, but it was very beautiful and all the stuff looked very expensive. Even when you’d touch the walls, you felt like it would break down right down to your feet. This was a whole other universe than your own, ordinary home. You shook your head and let your thoughts drift away.

‘Yes, yes I am. Narcissa Malfoy,’ she smiled before letting your hand finally go. The door behind you was now closed and you started to follow Narcissa to another door inside. Narcissa opened the door, which seemed to be the door to the living room. On the couch was Draco, laying down, reading a book for school while on the chair on the other side of him, was another man. He looked a lot like Draco. The blonde hair, the same face expression and his whole appearance made you conclude he was his father.

‘Draco, Y/N is here,’ Narcissa announced, making Draco look up. He shot up immediately and walked towards you with open arms.

‘Hey babe,’ he whispered when he was close to you, pressing a small kiss on your lips, before letting go of you and wrapping his arm around your waist. And there you stood, like Draco was presenting you to his parents, despite your little meeting with his mother.

He took a short breathe, looking at his father, who had not a single emotion on his face nor in his eyes.

‘Hi, I’m Y/N,’ you shortly introduced yourself, waving a little before a small laugh left your mouth. Narcissa was already smiling, but Draco’s father stayed silent.

‘Father?’ Draco said kind of unsure about his words, also nervous because his father hasn’t said a single thing but sending you glares. Well, you thought it were glares.

‘Lucius Malfoy,’ was the only thing he said. The corners of his mouth went a bit upward and you questioned yourself if this was supposed to represent a smile.

But to prevent any other awkward situations, you just said: ‘Nice to meet you, sir.’ And you showed your most beautiful smile, feeling Draco chuckle. His grip around your waist stiffened a bit, so you smiled even more, but not towards Lucius anymore, but Draco.

Your eyes met, feeling the spark inside lighten up again. He nodded, gesturing it was going okay. A wave of relief washed over you, before Narcissa and Lucius started to walk to another room. Draco hold on tightly when he walked with you, entering the big room which seemed to be the dining room.

‘Dinner’s almost ready,’ Draco’s mother said as she smiled, walking to the kitchen to check the food one last time.

‘Good,’ you answered, turning towards Draco and his father, ‘mind if I use the bathroom real quick and wash my hands?’ You showed a grin and frowned a bit. Draco nodded, ignoring his father as he told you were to find it. A quick thank you rolled over your lips and before you knew it, you were already inside.

‘Come on Y/N, you can do this,’ you whispered to you reflection, trying to encourage yourself, ‘it’s all going well right now. Kill it out there.’

You took a deep breathe, fixing your hair and make-up again, washing your hands before exiting the bathroom. That’s when you realized you got lost in the house. It was a bloody maze in your eyes.

Voices were heard, so you assumed it were Draco and his parents and as you were approaching the voices behind the door, you saw it was a direct door to the kitchen and not via the dining room.

The voices belonged to Narcissa and Draco.

‘What a beautiful girl Draco, reminds me of the younger me,’ you heard Narcissa say, making you smile and your heartbeat quicken.

‘She’s the prettiest and sweetest woman alive,’ Draco told his mother, love lacing in his words.

Narcissa laughed and laid her hands on the shoulders of her son. ‘Your father will love her too, darling. She makes you so happy, I’ve never seen you so happy.’

Draco just nodded, hearing things he already knew. You were indeed one of his only lights that brought him happiness and made him turn into a good person. Well, let’s just say you made him have a good side too.

‘You better marry her one day,’ Narcissa smiled while stroking the arms of her only son. Draco laughed and grabbed his mother’s hands.

‘Don’t worry mother, I will,’ he assured her, making her nod.

On the other side of the door, you were almost fainting. A hand clasped in front of your mouth, you silently left the door, finding the other way around immediately as the smile on your face wouldn’t fade away.

When you were in the dining room again, everyone was finally there, Draco sitting on a chair next to an empty chair. The whole table was filled with so much food, you almost lost count of the different meals.

Once you sat down, Lucius lit the candles with his wand and filled all the four glasses with some wine.

‘A toast for Draco and Y/N,’ Narcissa said, raising her glass as you followed her actions. Draco did the same and then everyone looked at Lucius, who still hadn’t raise his glass.

But after a few seconds, his mouth went open, his eyes showing some sympathy as he looked at his loving son.

‘To the beautiful, kind Y/N and my only, dear son Draco,’ he said, finally showing some of his opinion on your relationship.

You smiled, mumbling a ‘cheers’ but you were at cloud nine at the moment, so happy with this meeting.

Soon enough, Draco’s hand found yours, him squeezing your hand a little as you were smiling like a dork, happier than ever before.

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In the Rough

(based on this) part 1 (you are here), part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6



There’s a lot about Mari that Yuuri loves. In fact, he’d go so far as to say that he loves his sister more than almost anyone else, except maybe his parents. Despite their six year age difference, neither of them have ever had any other kids to really interact with. As such, each of them were the other’s best and only friend. But the fact has always remained that Mari is older than Yuuri. One day, he’s always known, she will be the queen of Yutopia. What he didn’t expect was for that day to come so quickly, or have such a profound effect on their relationship.

It was gradual at first: Mari turning him away from her door when he asks her to help him with his studies, Mari spending more and more time in the library with her own when she was never the best of students before, Mari lashing out at him when he actually gets the courage to press for her attention occasionally. Time and again, Mother assures him that it’s just the responsibility of being the crown princess that’s weighing on her. Still, Yuuri can’t help if he’s lonely.

That’s what led to this.

“Not now, Yuuri.” Mari is sounding increasingly irritated with him, but he can’t really seem to stop himself. It’s been months since they’ve had a proper conversation.

“It will only take a minute, I promise!”

“I don’t have a minute!” she finally snaps, rounding on him. “I don’t have a minute to myself because the coronation is so soon. What on earth makes you think that I have time to spare for you? Don’t be such a clingy child!”

Yuuri silently curses the way his eyes well up with tears. “I… Excuse me.”

“Yuuri, wait. I didn’t mean–” He can hear her calling out to his back, but the words don’t really register.

Being too overbearing has always been Yuuri’s biggest fear; he’s emotional and soft in a way that no self-respecting royal should ever be. Mari knows this, and used it against him. He really must be too much if she of all people is telling him so. He can just leave her alone until after the coronation. Maybe longer, if it looks like she’s feeling too overwhelmed by his presence. He has an outfit that he uses sometimes when palace life is too much for him and he sneaks out to go to town. He can use that to sneak out. He can take a horse, a sword, and some money, and hide out somewhere until everything blows over in a couple of months.

It doesn’t take Yuuri long to slip past the guards and get off the castle grounds. He’s done it countless times before, once even smuggling Prince Phichit out with him. He slips out the back way, through the forest. Everyone in town knows his face, and most of his subjects do too; it will be best to avoid people for a while.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that he’s brave enough to stray from the path. The woods between this and the next kingdom are deep, and more than one traveller has gotten lost within them, or attacked by robbers. If his maps are right, he’ll be able to get to the next kingdom within a fortnight.

Sleeping on the forest floor is irritating, but hardly anything new; this isn’t the first time that Yuuri has disappeared for a few days, even if it’s the first time that he’s planning on leaving the kingdom without permission. By the eighth day, Yuuri’s rations are beginning to get a bit low. He’s grimy, there are leaves and twigs in his hair, and his ratty cloak is rattier than ever. Still, he doesn’t turn back. At this point, going home would create more distress than it would relieve. If need be, he can just… kill a rabbit or something. There’s a stream less than ten minutes from the path, and making a fire is no problem. He can make it to the next kingdom.

The sound of a carriage jolts him out of his thoughts. He darts back into the trees, hiding in a bush. He still hasn’t crossed the Yutopia border, so it’s possible– probable, even –that the driver of that carriage knows who Yuuri is. As the carriage draws closer, Yuuri can make out little details that start to change his mind. Its blue, for one thing, and only a single carriage; most trader caravans are made up of several plain wagons with faded paint.

Yuuri hears rustling behind him. In less than a second, the quiet rustling becomes shouting. Bandits. Seven men attack the carriage from all sides, one even jumping from a tree to land on top of the carriage. Yuuri doesn’t even realize that he’s drawing his sword until it’s already out.

The door to the carriage flies open and two men– one man and one boy, really, no more than thirteen –jump out, weapons drawn and ready. The boy shouts something that sounds like “Stay the fuck there or I’m telling Dad,” but Yuuri can’t focus too much on him. He’s taken down one of the robbers, but there’s another one coming at him.

It takes the three of them nearly twenty minutes to knock out all of the robbers, and when they do, they’re panting.

“Thank you for the help.” The dark-haired man from the carriage holds out his hand for Yuuri to shake. “We might not have made it without you.”

“It–It was nothing, really.” Yuuri holds up his hands, as if that will deflect the praise. “I was just trying to help. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Tch.” The boy sheaths his sword. Now that Yuuri has a chance to look at him, he’s amazed. The boy is beautiful, almost fairy-like, but he fights like a demon. He’s also dressed like a royal. “At least you didn’t get in the way.”

Yuuri doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to. There’s a laugh from inside the carriage and someone else exits. This man is definitely a royal, and it’s possible that he’s even more beautiful than the boy. They must be related, with their strangely colored hair and eyes.

“That’s high praise coming from you, Yuratchka.” The man looks Yuuri up and down, and Yuuri has to force himself not to blush. “I’ve decided. He’ll be my new bodyguard. I’ve been needing a new one, and I can’t bear to see my beloved younger brother fight on my behalf anymore.”

The man swoons dramatically, but it looks like he’s actually about to fall. Neither of his companions make a move to catch him, and neither does the driver, a woman with bright, fiery red hair. Yuuri is there before he knows it, catching the man before he can actually fall to the ground.

He finds himself looking into the most piercing pair of eyes that he’s ever seen. His eyes inexplicably heat up and Yuuri can tell that if he looks for too long, he’ll be overwhelmed; those eyes can see straight into his soul.

“Be careful,” Yuuri manages.

The man flicks a piece of silver hair out of his eyes and smiles, standing up straight. “Yes, he’ll do nicely. I’m keeping him.”

He ends up on the floor a second later anyway, courtesy of the flying kick that the boy– his younger brother, Yuuri reasons –aims at his back. “Don’t just assume that some random man in the forest is trustworthy enough to be your bodyguard! Think this through, old man!”

“I’m only twenty two,” the man pouts from the ground. “You’re so mean, Yuratchka. Besides, he saved my life, and he doesn’t seem to have anywhere to go. Dad will allow it.”

Yuratchka rolls his eyes and walks over to the carriage. “Whatever. You might want to ask him what his name is before you ask him to risk his life for you though.”

The door slams and Yuuri is still a little confused. The man is still on the ground, the dark haired man from earlier is sheathing his sword without a care in the world, apparently used to this sort of behavior.

“He has a point!” Silver-Haired Man bounces up and picks the twigs out of his hair. “If you’re my new bodyguard, I must know your name.”

“Yuuri,” he says without thinking. Then he realizes that giving his true last name could be a very bad idea. “Yuuri… Nishigori.”

Silver-Haired Man introduces himself as Victor Nikiforov, the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom. The fairy-like boy with the foul mouth is indeed his brother, Prince Yuri. The other man is Georgi Popovich, Yuri’s personal bodyguard, and their driver is called Mila. The four of them have apparently been travelling together nearly all of Yuri’s life.

The reality of what he’s just inadvertently agreed to doesn’t hit until he’s sitting in the carriage with them later: he’s agreed to become the personal bodyguard to the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom, who would no doubt know his name but not his face. Yuuri can’t help but wonder how he’s going to get himself out of this one without causing himself and everyone around him massive embarrassment.

Luckily, he has several months to come up with a solution.

Beat 1 Interview with Matty

Zane: Do we really need to do introductions, we’ve surpassed that. For those people listening all around the world right now, we capture Matt Healy from the brilliant band The 1975 at a magical time, at a time of transition and of celebration because everything you’ve achieved thus far as a band. Getting towards the end of this touring cycle at some point this year, and feeling like you’ve achieved on album number two. Congratulations man. 

Matty: Thanks man. 

Zane: Unbelievable. 

Matty: Yeah, it is. We’ve always spoken about it, even when I first came in. Cause you, you were there from the beginning and I came in like motor mouth, leather jacket, shaved back and sides and was like burgh bleurgh bleurgh. And I just remember, kind of, needing to get it all out. And I couldn’t even do that on the first record. And I think that now it’s…

Zane: Because you were in a hurry man. You wanted the world to know what you already knew. 

Matty: It was partially that. And it is partially this insane fear of resting on my laurels, which is why we have like 32 track albums. 

Zane: But nobody even knew what your laurels were at that point. 

Matty: Exactly! 

Zane: “You guys don’t know what my laurels are, but I don’t want to rest on them!” 

Matty: Exactly. So I was, like, because you have to remember I had kind of lived and created this world. I was 24 before The 1975 fully happened and we had done the stuff…

Zane: Did you feel old at that point in your life?

Matty: I definitely didn’t feel 18. I didn’t feel like the young kid who had been refused all those records deals and stuff like that. 

Zane: So you were in a hurry?

Matty: Yeah, I was kinda in a hurry. I was living at my mum’s house for a start so I was in that much of a hurry where’s a bit like “come on, this needs to happen now”

Zane: And was mum saying to you “when is this dream going to become a reality”?

Matty: Yeah, for a long time and the thing is you always feel like you are getting closer. There is always somebody who holds the key. There is always going to be that tour that breaks you and that tour that breaks you. I remember you saying, because you played The City as the first thing that you played. And, one of the things that I remember resonating with me is you were like “oh this sounds so fully formed”. And I remember thinking “well, yeah, because we’ve been doing this for a long time” and when we realised that it wasn’t gonna be necessarily a major…a label or a regular, I dunno, record deal or set up that was gonna break The 1975, we just kinda did it ourselves. And since then, that sense of ambition or fear of resting on my laurels, I’ve never been able to get rid of. So this is why this record, this last record was so full of everything I could put into it. 

Zane: I think that’s been proven over and over again for those that are most successful do the ones who come out there know what they have to say but ultimately worried that no one is going to hear them. 

Matty: And I think it’s partially to do with the fact that, obviously, making music is always personal but when you’ve been told…The 1975, by the time I was 19/20 or whatever, and I was trying to get a record deal. It wasn’t so much something that I did, as what I was. So like when people were telling me that it wasn’t good enough, it was like people telling me that I wasn’t good enough. So that, I suppose, inspired a bit of vitriol and a bit of a kind of a redemptive…so when things started to happen I was like “too right!”. 

Zane: There is a healthy amount of fuck you in pop music, there has to be. 

Matty: There has to be. And there is not a lot at the moment. And the thing is, I never want to come across as…

Zane: That pop music is crushing it. You don’t need to tell anyone to fuck you because everyone is out there supporting it.  

Matty: Yeah, right. It is an amazing place to be, pop music at the moment because there is some stuff that is truly subversive. But that is mainly coming from the kind of the hip-hop world. Its pretty much Migos at the moment. If that’s the new pop music and it come from a real place 

Zane: …Drake has done a huge job of doing that. He came in and, the record that changed his fortunes and was his most popular…we are going to come back and talk about this in a minute. But this is where it did begin. It’s gonna get deep ladies and gentlemen. If you are a The 1975 fan and Matt Healy fan, we have him in rare form. His hoodie is up, his mouth is open and the honesty is forthcoming.


PLAYED THE CITY


Oh man, I’ve said this to you before and I mean it with the utmost respect, what kind of precocious dudes were you to start like that. It’s unbelievable that start. 

Matty: That song was the first time when we’d gone from….so we had been a band from 14-17, we had been this band. It wasn’t really happening. We were living in Wilmslow. Same four since we were 13. When we got to 17/18, we started getting really involved in dance music and the idea of, like, I dunno, like everything became a bit more fully formed. And The City was a direct result of us going “hold on a second. We are a band. If we play with the archetypes of rock and roll, you can’t really go wrong with that. But let’s create a band out of loops, let’s create a band in the same way we would create a piece of dance music”. And I think that ethos has like inspired a lot of the material because there is a lot of that. We are from the UK, we are from Manchester. 

Zane: That is where a lot of that hybrid culture has come from in the United Kingdom and that’s where things fuse and new rocks are formed. 

Matty: Yeah, I mean look at garage music or grime music and stuff like that. And I grew up with garage. 

Zane: And you’re a studio rat too. You and George and that became very evident as time went on and you started to work with other artists too. How deeply involved in the studio and how deeply into that idea you were. 

Matty: I think that it was the idea of us, kind of, becoming auteurs within the music world. 

Zane: Did you just drop the A word?! 

Matty: I dropped the A word. That is something that feels quite…it is definitely worthy of an explosion. 

Zane: Definitely. First time this year that “auteur” has been dropped in the studio just FYI. Twice last year, first time this year. 

Matty: It all goes back to how ambitious we are but I think that we’d kind of produced our own band by the time that band came out so we already knew we could do that. The 1975 was a facet of all these kinds of ideas that we had spent so much time producing our own records, that when we found The Japanese House and bands like Pale Waves and stuff like that we’ve just, we can, we have the ability to do it. 

Zane: Well The Japanese House was a hugely exciting moment for me and for everybody because it felt like it was an extension of The 1975 in terms of your passions and your drive but very much driven by a strong individual. By Amber. And so it felt collaborative to start but in many respects, you were really just opening the door wider and wider with every song for her to find that voice and it was beautifully and tastefully done. 

Matty: I never wanted it to be something that was too associated with The 1975. But I think that, the world that we had created was kind of perfect for that kind of artist and it’s kind of interesting now because we have the ability to express ourselves through others, and without being overhanded. You don’t listen to a Japanese House record and hear me or George particularly too much. 

Zane: She has her own street in the same town. 

Matty: Exactly, and I like that. 

Zane: Brand new music from Japanese House right now, called Saw you in a dream. 

Matty: Now, this, I didn’t work on this. I didn’t work on this. This is all her. 

Zane: It must be beautiful to listen to it from that perspective. 

Matty I’ll be honest with you. I don’t really work on Japanese House anymore.


PLAYED SAW YOU IN A DREAM


Zane: I like said, there is very much, I would call it a kindred spirituality between Amber and what you guys do. 

Matty: Yeah definitely. 

Zane: You can hear it. 

Matty: Yeah massively. I mean what is she up to. She sounds like Burt Bacharach. It’s mental. 

Zane: What The Japanese House are able to do in a situation like this is show that side, that red velvet side that you guys can’t always show.

And that red velvet suit that you definitely own. 

Matty: And especially with Amber being a woman and being quite strong and independent and powerful character. It’s great to see her moving with such confidence. Because she is kind of just leaving us in the dust. Know what I mean, she knows what she is doing. 

Zane: It is a beautiful thing man. Living not only personally through your own experiences but somewhat vicariously through her. 

Matty: Yeah and it’s amazing and this thing that we’ve kinda created with Dirty Hit now. 

Zane: What is your relationship that you have with Dirty Hit now, apart from being someone that you collaborate on The 1975 it almost feels like you are coming at this from an A&R productive executive level. 

Matty: Yeah, I think I am. I think, well, Dirty Hit is run and owned by Jamie and Jamie has been the fifth member of The 1975 since he started being our manager and our relationship, I discovered Amber for example. And then Jamie took me to see a band called Pale Waves and I remember when Wolf Alice were getting signed and it’s all been, you know, the label essentially was set up to put out a record. And then it, it’s now turned into this kind of insane credibility and I mean, bands like Wolf Alice and Japanese House, amazing. 

Zane: It was never going to be enough to make a record and tour a record. It was always, there was always going to be verticals, opportunities to collaborate with other artists. Build on the things in this really expansive environment which your fans are now looking to you to constantly fill.  And this is just another opportunity for you to be able to do that. 

Matty: Yeah, I think it is. It is all part of the story as well. We are in an interesting time now, for The 1975. The cat will be out of the bag soon. 

Zane: Woah slow down. I think you just went for the explosion there. Go on, go on. 

Matty: All I am saying is that, one of the things that I have always found interesting, and I know you’ve always found interesting is, the music of The 1975 is just the key to the door. It is what is in the room that’s important. I like that, what you said, that was very smart. I think that, whether it be the extension into the aesthetic realm or the way that it is multi-media formatted, it’s meant that kids have always had a very very clean idea about what was going on. And that was partially helped by the fact that the first record was black and white and it had this vocabulary. And then the second one was pink and it had this vocabulary. Once we had set up these two eras, all I keep hearing about, is the next era. That’s the way they talk about future material; the next era.

And I kinda have to reveal to people, I suppose, because you said that the reason for us to come in at this time is to set a precedent for what is to come. The next record is called Music For Cars, that’s the title. And yeah, and it references our third EP. 

Zane: Great name for an album. I can say it too, which I’ve not been able to successfully do on your second album once. 

Matty: Exactly. Music For Cars. Music For Cars has always been called that and we were always going to do a trilogy of records. And I am not saying that after this album it’s the end of The 1975 but it is definitely the end of an era because you have to look at it at the way that I am very aware of time.

I know that our first record came out in 2013, our third record, the final part of the trilogy will come out in 2018. Spans a decade and I have just become very interested in kids having the ideas of living our their lives to The 1975 or this era and that era and I kinda want to make them aware that this has been one time.

Zane: Let me ask you a question which is going to send your fan base into an absolute tailspin. Are there things, are there layers and subtexts that you have created in your music, in your videos, in your artwork, in your shows, in your interviews and in your language, that no ones picked up on?

Matty: Yeah. 

Zane: Wow. Because there are some real treasure hunters out there. 

Matty: There are some ones which have surprised me. There are kids which have made theories that are not true, that I almost think that should be true. 

Zane: There are things which people have not gotten yet. 

Matty: Especially with the next record. In regards to, stuff that has already been referenced.

Zane: Wow, so you are thinking way in advance. 

Matty: Yeah, I was thinking about this making “I like it when you sleep”. So I know…

Zane: …what’s coming. 

Matty: Yeah, kinda. I especially know what has happened in regards to live shows and moments that people would maybe let pass them by and then in a year and half they are going to realise, that it was like an advert or something.


PLAYS SHE’S AMERICAN


Zane: When you listen to a song like She’s American, when you listen to that song and you realise that, what you went through making that album, you’ve toured it now. It’s become your friend, it’s become a companion and a friend to your fans, it’s got a life of its own now. But playing songs on the radio like that probably transports you back to that moment and that time in a tiny room out in the valley when you are making it. 

Matty: I remember when you came out there. 

Zane: You were stir-crazy boy. 

Matty: I was shirtless, manic. What I tend to forget is the craft. Not trying to be “oooooh my craft” but I think that like, if I go back and remember She’s American, I am not a particularly fluid writer, I don’t sit down there and just do prose and this incredible verse, you know what I mean. Kinda comes to me one line at a time on the back of a cig packet or in the car or something like that.

So I remember She’s American every single line was quite incredibly considered. So now, like you said, when it has a life of it’s own, it kinda has its own thing and it has its own identity and becomes pavlovian and you just play it and you forget about all of that. 

Zane: The audience then take it, and transform it and give it a different shade. 

Matty: That’s the whole thing, isn’t it. Once you’ve written a song, and finished it, it doesn’t really belong to you anymore. Because, objectivity is gonna get in there. 

Zane: That’s the greatest, and I’ve said this over and over again man. It’s the gift and the curse of being an artist. You get the gift of making it, and then afterwards you don’t get to experience it the way others do. 

Matty: I like to think that I can get as close as maybe an artist can. Because of my self-obsessed nature. I am very willing. 

Zane: Let me get a twist on this. I am very narcissistic. Do you listen to you own music?

Matty: Oh yeah! Massively. I think that, one of the things is, one of the rules that me and George had in the early days was because we knew we were drawing references from so many people. We did not like it when bands ripped off other bands. It’s fine to rip off a song by a band. So it’s fine to have a song which sounds like something off “Remain In Light” but your band cannot sound like Talking Heads.

So our thing was the way to get around that, how about if we rip ourselves off. So let’s take our old demos, and listen to them, because we know we like our band. Let’s listen to them and think it didn’t belong to us, what can we knick from that piece of music to make a new one. And then the more you do that, so you know, we have tried rip off Chocolate 30 times. But you cannot get away from the fact that it’s a shuffle, and if we do another shuffle then it will be another Chocolate. There are loads of rules that we need to stick to. Ripping yourself off is fine. If every song sounds different then it’s fine. 

Zane: What are the other rules?

Matty: If it doesn’t make me physically dance or cry within the first 48 hours, we normally get rid of it. Because it is, what people need to remember is, that the agenda for this has always been the preservation of me and George just being able to sit in a room and make records. Like, we did that in my bedroom, then it was a tour bus, and now it’s…a tour bus.

It’s like that has always been the primary goal, because that’s when we’re happiest. When I am making music with George, and I get something, I put that feeling in with all of my carnal feelings. Like a sexual feeling, or a hunger. It’s not a superficial thing. It’s something that eradicates interest in culture, or how am I going to be perceived. It’s a real catharsis. 

Zane: And sometimes, those feelings they take a while to brew up. I mean, I mean, sometimes it takes somebody else to come into the room and say “this has this feeling” and then it goes on to become one of your biggest hits. Sometimes it takes that person. 

Matty: It does take that person. 

Zane: And in this particular case, that person is… 

Matty: Zane Lowe. 

Zane: You’re goddam fucking right. Could have been so easily been a different story. 

Matty: You know what, we should tell people that story. I will tell people so you don’t sound arrogant.

I was in Woodland Hills making this record. The Sound had been, the thing I was talking to you about, what you just you said to me, the thing you said at the time. The reason I love this record is because it’s pure joy. So the first album, there was elements of that kind of true poppyness, and not caring. But I did care a bit. I was concerned about how it was perceived.

The Sound was a song which did not make it onto the first album, I told you this. I mean, listen to it, turn it up, it’s so pop. 

Zane: Bro, I could imagine this being played at Live Aid, Philadelphia Live Aid because that’s where the sunshine was, 4 in the afternoon with full backing vocals, the whole thing. You would have fit in perfectly on that bill. Jack Nicholson “coming up later we have Tom Petty, but right now The 1975”. 

Matty: I had this for three hours in the studio, talking about. “I’m Zane Lowe listen to this”

Zane: I did not say “I’m Zane Lowe” that’s a whole other thing. But I did go “you are out of your fucking mind if you don’t finish this”.

Man, you just needed the tip. At the end of the day, the record was finished but this has been a huge record for you in amongst an album full of them. I do want to spend a little bit of time in the next 10 minutes or so, talking about this album because it deserves some faithful reflection.

First, I get the sensation that people who are listening to this, are like you talked about the future and yet you steered them away. I would like to keep peppering that, and I would like to take a chance at this point whilst people are super engaged to talk about what you can talk about in terms of the record right now, and what shape it has right now. 

Matty: What it needs to be, it needs to be the ultimate The 1975 record. So it needs to have, as you’ve said, all of the self reference and subtext that our fans have come to not just love, but need in the context of The 1975. 

Zane: Are you recording?

Matty: Are we recording yet?

Zane: Right now

Matty: Yeah. We are yeah. We are, it’s different though, I’ve found that it’s going to be an interesting record. I want to make a record that is representative of everything that we’ve done before and that is difficult with those two albums to draw from. So, does it become more conceptual.

Zane: You guys have changed the shape of pop music. I just said it off the record, and I want to say it on the record. The last two albums, you 100% have influenced artists whether they acknowledge it or not. In a field that was deemed rock and roll, I think you have opened up the door to pop music and to experimentation and playfulness. 

Matty: Stripped of what makes up The 1975 has just taken me back to stuff like, our inspirations now are like The Great American Songbook. I would like to write “Somewhere over the rainbow”. I want to write “One Fine Day”. I want to write the best songs in the world. 

Zane: There is a song you got close with. [Somebody Else]

Matty: Yeah, this is a banger. I am not even going to deny it. I mean, this is a massive tune. Because, as soon as I had written it. It’s like three chords, and then three little choruses basically. As soon as I had written it, I was like, yeah this is a tune. Straight up tune. Don’t care. Not bothered. Don’t have to care either because it did not really take me that long. We did this in a day, me and George. And then we were like, this is a tune. And I don’t have to sound modest, because, listen to it. 

Zane: Lyrically mate. 

Matty: Ah thanks man. It’s about guilt. We play this song every single night. People go mental for it. I think “Wow. People are so….emo.” People just love the sad songs. I will do something where I am obviously not in pain, and people will go “yeah, that was alright”. And then I will pour my heart out, and people will be like “yeah, I love that”. People just love damaged people. 

Zane: It’s visceral. 

Matty: Yeah I suppose it is. 

Zane: If you can make people dance and cry at the same time, you’ve won. 

Matty: This is what this song is about. 

Zane: Three bodies in the same hook and you’ve got a win. Honestly, and you’ve written some great couplets and some great complete thoughts, some great songs, great concepts. I think that’s the best overall complete lyric you’ve written. 

Matty: I’d agree with you on that. I would probably objectively agree with you.
Zane: Every single line on that record is borderline classic. Heart-breaking pop writing. 

Matty: Thank you very much. I mean, I don’t want to indulge too much in the compliment, but I think I’ve thought that. Because you don’t have the experience of writing something and listening to it objectively. You either have one or the other. 

Zane: We are going to say good luck. You have touring to be done. What is the rest of this year about. Give it to us in bullet points so we know where you are going to be. 

Matty: We headline Parklife and Latitude as are our last two swan songs. We have to make our best record yet. 

Zane: So you are going to go back and make that record, Music for Cars. It’s coming out in 2018. 

Matty: Making it in my house. I am just gonna get whoever wants to work on it. 

Zane: You are a glutton for punishment. You are going to wake up every morning in that place and go into work. I love it.

Studio Ghibli & Mr. Miyazaki starters

- suggested by Anonymous and pulled from various films/sources

  • “You cannot alter your fate. However, you can rise to meet it”
  • “A heart’s a heavy burden”
  • “I’ve got something I want to protect - it’s you”
  • “I think we ought to live happily ever after”
  • “Once you’ve met someone, you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return”
  • “It will protect you. It’s made from the threads your friends wove together”
  • “Nothing that happens is ever forgotten, even if you can’t remember it”
  • “We need to find our own inspiration. Sometimes, it’s not easy”
  • “I make friends, then suddenly I can’t bear to be with any of them”
  • “Here’s another curse: may all your bacon burn!”

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anonymous asked:

Hi, quick question because I haven't read the books in a while. Did Ned encourage Arya's unladylike behaviour at all? I know he obviously let her keep Needle but apart from that I'm sure he wanted to make her a lady (the whole 'your sons will be knights... quote etc) but he and Cat just sort of gave up. I see people say because she remind him of Lyanna he encouraged it but I would've thought if she reminded him of Lyanna, he would discourage it, hoping she doesn't share the same fate

The short answer to your question, Nonnie, is NO. Ned did not “encourage” Arya in unladylike behavior. The Ned Stark who indulges his youngest daughter in every whim and thinks it’s charming if she’s rude to people is entirely a fandom creation. At least as far as the books go. Not having seen the show, I never pretend to speak to portrayals of the characters there. Honestly, this idea of Ned as the super progressive, indulgent father who would want all his children to live freely and marry for love and spend their lives doing whatever their little hearts desire if it weren’t for that horrible bitch he’s married to infuriates me as much on Ned’s behalf as it does on Catelyn’s!

As much as I love the guy, as much as he genuinely loves both his wife and children a great deal more than many other lords in ASOIAF seem to, as much as he absolutely values women as human beings capable of rational thought and worthy of respect in a way that far too few of the men in the series do, Lord Eddard Stark is a pretty traditional guy. He married for duty, became Lord of Winterfell for duty, lives his life with as much honor as he can–as he understands the concept. He expects no less of his children. He does not want them unhappy and would not willingly place them in harm’s way, but he expects Robb to fulfills his responsibilities as heir to Winterfell and one day its lord, to rule with honor and wed a woman who will make a good Lady of Winterfell. He expects Bran and Rickon to grow up and become bannermen of their elder brother, perhaps with their own holdfasts in the North, helping defend House Stark and the North and administer justice in their brother’s name. He expects Sansa AND Arya to make marriages which are advantageous to House Stark. Not because he thinks of his children as pawns, but because this is WHAT PEOPLE DO! This is how a good father secures his children’s future and how a good lord secures the future of his House.

So, OF COURSE, he doesn’t encourage Arya’s wild ways. Now, we don’t get to see any actual hands-on parenting by Ned of his daughters in Winterfell on the page. Catelyn is obviously in charge of them. Not because she’s controlling and he’s lenient–but because that is HER job. Arya sees her mother as the primary disciplinarian in her life simply because her mother, as the more hands-on parent in her daily life, is the one who’s telling her what to do and not to do on a far more regular basis. 

We DO see Ned interacting directly with Arya in King’s Landing, when Catelyn is far away and unavailable for the duty. He’s exhausted, he’s miserable away from his home and his wife, he’s frustrated with his seeming inability to make Robert act like a king or to make headway in the matter of Jon Arryn’s death or the attempt on Bran’s life, and he’s completely bamboozled on how to handle the open warfare between his daughters. And now Septa Mordane comes to him and tells him that after he left the Small Hall in frustration without finishing his dinner after yet another altercation between the two girls, Arya has made a scene and left the Hall without permission. He goes to her room, wondering how in hell to deal with her and finds her with a sword she informs him is his.

During their exchange, (which is from Arya’s POV), she notes more than once how tired her father looks. Upon realizing the sword was made by Mikken, he SIGHS. “My nine-year-old daughter is being armed from my own forge, and I know nothing of it. The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household.”

This is a dude at the end of his rope!

When Arya informs him that she hates Septa Mordane, his answer is given in a voice GRRM refers to as ‘curt and hard’. “That’s enough. The septa is doing no more than is her duty, though gods know you have made it a struggle for the poor woman. Your mother and I have charged her with the impossible task of making you a lady.”

YOUR MOTHER AND I, he says. Not just ‘your mother.’ Like Catelyn, Ned understands that Arya chafes against a lot of what is asked of her. Like Catelyn, he sees learning to do it anyway as necessary to her future.

Arya protests, of course, and gets the well-known speech from her father about having a wildness in her, or the wolf blood as his own father used to call it. And when he tells her she reminds him of his sister, even nine-year-old Arya hears the sadness in his voice. And when he tells her she looks like Lyanna, and she protests that Lyanna was beautiful he says, “She was. Beautiful, willful, and dead before her time.”

In this moment, Ned is remembering his sister with both great love and great fear for as much as he might love the echoes of her which he sees in Arya, he DOES NOT want her to follow Lyanna’s path or share her fate. Immediately after that is when he asks her what she thought to do with that sword. He’s trying desperately to figure out what to do with this daughter who is so unhappy, so determined to do what she wants, and eerily like the sister who followed her own will right into an early grave and triggered a terrible war. 

They go on to have quite a wonderful conversation in which he tries to understand her and make her understand him–talking of the pack and winter and honor, etc. Some things, she understands, and others not so much. He never mentions Lyanna again in the conversation. He tells her Septa Mordane is a good woman and emphasizes her sisterhood with Sansa, telling her that while they may be as different as the sun and the moon, the same blood flows through their hearts and they need each other. And he needs them both.

We’re in Arya’s head here–not Ned’s. But you can almost feel his desperation when he then tells her she has to STOP with the willfulness. “This is not Winterfell. We have enemies here who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves. This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience … at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.”

Basically, he just told her to knock off all the things that so many in fandom feel he encouraged in her. While he may have been fairly lenient (NOT encouraging) of her shenanigans in Winterfell, they’re now in a dangerous place, and at the ripe old age of nine, he expects her to act more grown up!

Then, he lets her keep her sword and arranges lessons for her. Why does he do that? I think at least in part, it’s because he needs somebody to be happy about SOMETHING. He’s so guilty about Sansa’s wolf that he can barely speak with her, and he knows Arya hates King’s Landing, and he knows even better how much HE hates King’s Landing. Maybe if he gives her this one thing–he can keep his daughter from a full-on rebellion like that of his sister’s.

But even after that, some time later after word arrives that Bran has awakened, Arya asks Ned if he can still be a knight, and he tells her no, but that her brother may still someday be lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king’s castle or raise castles like Brandon the Builder or sail a ship across the Sunset Sea or enter their mother’s faith and become High Septon. Arya promptly asks if she can be king’s councillor and build castles and become High Septon, and Ned, of course, tells her no.

“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.”

Arya wants none of that, of course, but my point here is that, sword lessons or not, this is the future Ned saw for Arya, the future he WANTED for Arya, not because he was a bad father, but because he loved his daughter. And to this traditional High Lord of Westeros, having his daughter become a Queen or a great Lady was the absolute most he could offer her.

So while he loved his daughter Arya dearly, and had loved his sister dearly as well, and probably did love that he could see a bit of Lyanna living on in Arya, he did not encourage her to be willful and wild any more than he had encouraged it in his sister.

Let Me Pt. 2 // Jeon Jungkook

-

the prompt: can you make prince!jungkook into a series (or mini series?) pleaseee? Your writing is so good and prince jungkook is so adoring I love it!! the au this is based off of: i’m supposed to inherent the throne but really I’d rather own this tiny bakery with you.

words: 1684

category: fluff

author note: i had a really good time writing this and delving back into prince jungkook. pls enjoy this lil continuation!

- destinee

Originally posted by bangtanbanchan


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A Shallura Stargazing fic won by @daydreamsandwikiwalks I had a lot of fun writing this and I really enjoy the Voltron characters. My next prize fic is more Voltron so hopefully, I can keep this rolling.


Shiro stepped out of the base and onto the grass, staring out across the sky before he scanned the field before him. He saw her white hair first, like a breath in the cold. He went towards her with a slight smile on his face.

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Connected souls (Fili x Reader)

Originally posted by fili-raffe

A/N: Requested by anon: May I request #88 w/ Fili? […]

#88 = “After everything… I’d still choose you.”

Thank you so much for your request and I’m really sorry that it took me nearly two weeks to write it, but this one is for you and I really hope you like it.

I had planned to make this a twoshot, but I decided to not let you wait any longer.

I used Khuzdul in this, but I put the translation right behind the words in brackets, for that you guys won’t have to scroll down all the time xx. 

I hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 4282 (I don’t know what happened…)

Warnings: Lots of drama, I never thought that I’m the drama queen type of girl lmao, but I guarantee you a happy ending.

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anonymous asked:

I absolutely adore your writing and I was wondering if you could do one where Noctis has to go to a neighbouring kingdom to settle a peace treaty and ends up starting a love-hate relationship with the queen (who's his age and kind of stubborn). Pretty please, thank you 😘💕✨

Contumacem

Noctis x F!OC
Word Count: 2,452
SFW, fluff

I loved this prompt. I’m thinking maybe one day I’ll elaborate on this, because it’s so hard to condense something like this into a one-shot, but I tried my best. I’m gonna put it under a Read More because it’s pretty long and I don’t want it to clog up people’s dashboards––can mobile users let me know if they can see it? Anyway, enjoy! And thank you again for your continued support.

Tagging @chocobrodreamteam because of the sleepy headed prince.

Noctis was in the back seat of Ignis’ car, his head leaned against the window. He sighed heavily. King Regis had sent Noctis, Ignis, Gladio and Prompto to a neighbouring kingdom for a short trip, sort of as an act of good will, to a neighbouring kingdom not too far from Insomnia. It was called Contumacem, and according to Ignis, it was ruled by a young queen, not much older than Noctis.

“Apparently she’s quite lovely,” Ignis noted from the driver’s seat, glancing at Noctis in the rearview mirror. “I wouldn’t be surprised if His Majesty sent you to meet her as a way of joining our two kingdoms sometime in the near future.”

“Fat chance,” Noctis yawned, stretching out his arms. He almost hit Gladio in the face, who swatted his hand away. “Let’s just get this over with. He told me it was a good will visit. We just have to meet the queen, play nice, and go home.”

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More Than Enough (Fic Request)

Tumblr fic request for the beautiful and awesome @buckyoakenshieldxo Thorin x Reader pairing. This is my first reader perspective fic so go easy on me.

You are depressed, feeling unworthy of Thorin’s love and have not yet conceived an heir. 


More Than Enough

You had been married to Thorin now for almost two years, and whilst you smiled every day, wanting to present the facade that you were enjoying your life as his wife and Queen, a gaping hole was still sitting in your gut. The grey clouds of self doubt, sadness and feeling unworthy had descended again. These were the same clouds that had been ever present in your previous life where you had grown up, never feeling good enough for anything and never feeling as though you belonged. Your rational mind kept trying to regain control, telling you that all Thorin had done was make you feel welcome within the kingdom, helping you gain respect from the people of Erebor. And so far it seemed to have been successful. The people loved you, always smiling, bowing as you walked on by, your gowns sweeping past them. The Dwarf children would stand in awe. “Isn’t she beautiful, Mama?” the little ones would say. But you never felt beautiful. You felt as if your very presence in this place was forced. And those little Dwarf children were always a reminder of the disappointment you presented to Thorin: the fact you had not yet conceived an heir for him. It was expected that you as Queen, and he as King, would produce an heir to one day take the throne when Thorin was gone from this world.

The last few days and you had avoided contact with other people, residing in the huge libraries most of the time. Ori had been the only one who you had really spoken to as he had began cataloguing his writings in date order upon the shelves at the rear of the main library. He was proud of his work, having documented the re-taking of Erebor from Smaug and the victory at the Battle of Five Armies. You had seen the librarian shake his head as Ori had entered the huge hall each day, but smiled to yourself seeing him look so happy.

Tonight marked the two year anniversary of the victory at the Battle of Five Armies as it had been Durin’s Day two weeks prior. Everyone had enjoyed much merry making in the grand halls on the east side of the mountain. But you, as usual, had smiled, feeling as though you were breaking inside. Thorin had sat beside you, brushing his hand against your thigh at regular intervals, a constant reminder that he never liked to be away from you for long and just wanted to know you were close. You loved this Dwarf with your whole being, in its entirety, but that hate you had for yourself was pulling hard on your relationship with him. At night when he attempted to make love to you, and you pulled away, you would see the hurt in his eyes. He had only ever questioned it once, and you tried to cover your feelings by lying, telling him that the wound to your stomach that you had sustained in battle two years prior sometimes pained you. The lovemaking between you both had been amazing beyond words during the first few months of your marriage. Now, the pleasure had gradually dripped away, one drop at a time.

You sat in your bedchamber that afternoon, knowing that Thorin was overseeing the signing of new laws being passed. He had been too busy of late, it seemed, to enquire as to your whereabouts. You only saw him at night, and even then you were normally asleep before he returned. All you wanted was to feel whole again, to feel as though you belonged and were worthy of such a beautiful man. King or not, Thorin was the most honourable and loyal of men you had ever met. Everything he put his hand to was for the good of everyone else, never himself. Thorin deserved someone else; he deserved a woman who would give him an heir, who would be the emotional support he needed and be able to fully commit to being a ruler of the kingdom. Instead he had chosen you, and all you felt you were was a burden to him.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you sat motionless, watching the shadows broaden on the wall. Your whole body felt as if it were void of any energy any motivation to move. All you could do was stare at the wall and let the emptiness consume you.

You had no idea how long you sat there until the wooden door to your chamber creaked open. Quickly you brushed the moisture away from your face with the back of your hand, sniffing away any sign that you had been crying.

Thorin looked at you, questions rising in his eyes and concern mounting on his face. “My love. What is it?” he asked, approaching you. “You think that I have not noticed your distance from me, but every day it has cut me deeper.”

You looked up at him, feeling those words gnaw into your stomach. But as your eyes met, you looked away.

He got down in front of you on his knees, taking your hands in his and then pressing them to his face and kissing them. He kissed across your knuckles and then held your hands against his cheek, closing his eyes as he did so. “How can I take this away from you?” he whispered.

Tears came again, dripping down your face, and then you felt the tightness in your chest. The breath escaped you in short bursts, becoming painful. “I don’t deserve you. You should look for someone who can be what you need and give you a child.” Uttering those words felt as if the whole world had crashed down onto your chest and stomach.

“I want my wife,” Thorin wept, his voice breaking. “I want our life together and our love as it once was. I do not base your value on whether you can conceive or not.” He looked up at you, his face a sign of his brokenness. Thorin placed his head in your lap. “You are worth everything I could ever give or do.”

You brushed your hands through his hair, cradling his head. “I love you, Thorin. But I don’t deserve this life. I don’t deserve anything. I’ll never be enough”

Thorin lifted his head and then took your hands in his. “You are more than enough for me. You are my One.” He kept his eyes on yours as he spoke and then he brushed his right hand against the braid in your hair. “Do you remember when I gave you this?”

“Yes,” you whispered, mentally recalling the day you pledged yourself to him and he you.

“I walked out of this mountain, preparing for war against Azog, and you had followed me through a great trial. The sickness made me speak words I will always regret, but never once did you walk away from me. Never once did you doubt me. And it was in those moments when I re-gained clarity of thought from the sickness that I knew you were my One. I had loved you for some time, but it was in those dark days that you proved to me your worthiness as a Queen, and your loyalty to me. Let me be with you through this trial of yours. If anyone is undeserving, it is me of you. Do you trust me?”

“With every breath, Thorin, you know I do,” you replied.

“Then trust my pledge to you. Trust that every word I speak is truth and that my heart will always be yours. Whatever you need, I will do everything in my power to see it given to you. But please know that you are more than enough for me. I just want you beside me and to give yourself to me freely as you once did.”

Hearing the words coming from him and to see him so broken because of your grief, all of it made something break inside. A locked chest had sprung open, releasing the emotions you had concealed now for months. You leaned down to him, kissing him. And for the first time in many weeks, you felt a shiver of pleasure race down your spine.

Wildflower | Wonwoo | Ch.1

Genre: Action!AU, Adventure, Drama, Historical, Royal!AU, Romance, OnceUponASeventeen!Wonwoo, Mystery, Warrior!Wonwoo

Word Count: 4.4k+

Summary: One event, just that one event, you find yourself in a situation where you wished it never happened. And you really wished it didn’t.

Ch.1 || Ch.2


“Please do it, it’s my order.”


The sound of birds chirping and the weak wind blowing through the fields was music to your ears. Faint rays of the morning sun peeking behind the mountains was definitely your favourite part of the day, no doubt. The friendly sun was practically your friend who greets you every morning- you felt like it was giving you the brightest smile, no pun intended.

You walked along the fields to have your morning jog around the castle the you were born into. Being annoyed on staying at home for most of the time as a child, you spent your fun and activities outside the castle. And it had always been that way.

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Still need a way out?

Originally posted by pixie-morgan


Summary/Original Request:
 Arthur finds out he is betrothed to Y/N and at first he loathes the idea, but when he finally meets her he falls in love with her. 

Warnings: None
Word Count: 1910
A/N: I hope you like it, love!



Arthur walked restlessly up and down his room. A behaviour, that his servant, Merlin, could no longer bear to look at.
„Looks like someone is in a specially good mood today.“
„Shut up, Merlin.“ Arthur stopped pacing around the room, and instead looked directly at Merlin.
He just didn’t know what to do.
A week ago, his father had disclosed to him, that he would be marrying (y/n). The Princess of the Kingdom of Reynes. And even though according to his father it would improve the relationship between their two realms, Arthur had not planned on getting married any time soon. Especially not when he didn’t even know his bride.

„Looks to me, as if you were quite nervous“, Merlin said, while folding one of the Prince’s shirts. Immediately Arthur went into a rage. He didn’t have time for his servant’s childish teasing in that moment. „Merlin, I’m going to meet the woman my father chose for me as a bride in a few hours time. Do you really think, your commentary is necessary right now?“ Merlin didn’t answer, and instead pressed his lips together tauntingly. Arthur tried his best to remain calm.
„So unless you know any way out of this, be a good servant for once, and shut up.“
Merlin shrugged. „Just saying. Have you tried to say no?“
Arthur looked as if he was most likely to strangle Merlin. „Oh, thank you Merlin. Just say no to father, I hadn’t even thought of that first.“
Defensive Merlin lifted his hands. „All right, all right, I got it.“

Arthur looked at him one last time warningly, before he sighed, starting to pace around the room again.



Arthur stood outside of the castle. He wore his cloak, the crest of Camelot embroidered on it, while the crown sat heavily on his head.
To his left stood his father, eyes fixed on the carriages that could be seen in the horizon. Slowly Arthur turned his gaze to look the same way, even though he could hardly hide the gloom that reflected from his face.
Right behind him was Merlin, what exactly he was doing Arthur didn’t know, and he actually didn’t care. He had bigger problems than to worry about his servant. Over and over he tried to remind himself to stay calm and friendly, repeating the words he had lain out to greet the King, the Queen and the Princess with, once they climbed out of their carriages. But in the back of his mind, he still searched for some kind of excuse, to blow this engagement off.

After some time the carriages finally arrived. Out stepped a woman, dressed in a long astonishing red gown, a small crown on her head. Right next to her stood the man who Arthur recognised as King Renard. Her husband.
And at last out of the carriage stepped a young woman. The Princess.
Only due to a soft nudge from Merlin, Arthur caught himself in time to close his mouth shut again. She wore a long (f/c) gown, and her (h/l) (h/c) was braided out of her face.
Gracefully she followed her parents, and after she had stepped closer Arthur realised, that she had the most beautiful (e/c) eyes, he had ever seen.

„It is an honour to meet you“, she said, dropping a courtesy, looking rather serious. Though, a soon as her gaze reached Arthur, a tiny smile started to form on her face, that she tried to hide, by quickly looking down at the ground. Arthur regained his posture, for she had most likely been laughing at the dumbstruck expression on his own face, that he now quickly tried to make up for.
„Indeed“, he managed to bring out with a quick bow, squinting his eyes shut, as he silently cursed himself for his own embarassment. He felt Merlin leaning down to him, as he also bowed, whispering something into his ear so that only Arthur could hear it.
„Still need a way out?“





„Rise and shine!“, Merlin exclaimed, as he parted the curtains in Arthur’s room. „Good morning, Arthur. It’s high time to get up.“
Sleepily, and not exactly in a good mood, Arthur rolled over, searching with closed eyes for anything he could throw at his servant.
„And why would that be?“, he growled, his hand closing around a carafe on his nightstand.
„Because Lady (y/n) has been up for a few hours now, and she seems to be having fun with your knights.“
Immediately Arthur sat up, dropping the carafe with a loud bang. „What?“
Merlin grinned at him. „She wanted to practice her sword fighting, and since you weren’t available, I set her up with Gwaine.“ Arthur looked furious.

„You did what?“
Instantly he stood up, trying to straighten his hair. „Merlin, help me get dressed. Quick.“

As fast as he could, without falling down, Arthur jumped into his pants, cursing as he failed to close them properly in his hurry.

Because even though he didn’t want to admit it, in the last week since she had arrived in Camelot, he couldn’t deny, that he had developed rather strong feelings for (y/n). And knowing Gwaine…
Cursing he gestured Merlin over to finally help him into his shirt.



Arthur arrived at the training ground just in time, to see Gwaine standing too close to (y/n) for his taste, giving her tips about how to improve her grip on the sword.
Arthur pressed his lips together, looking out at the pair he was walking towards to with jealousy. (Y/n) wore wide, light brown pants, and a white shirt, that hang loosely around her body.
Finally (y/n) realised his presence and lifted her head. „Oh, good morning, Arthur! Merlin.“
Merlin smiled, but Arthur didn’t exactly feel like laughing. Instead he grabbed Gwaine’s sword, and looked expectantly at (y/n). „I hear you’ve been training.“ She nodded. „I have, yes. Sir Gwaine was so nice as to provide me with a few tips.“
Arthur swung around the sword playfully, not without the intention of showing his skill off a little bit. If there was one thing he was good at, then it was fighting. „Is sword fighting really a sport for a beautiful young lady such as you?“
Almost amused she raised an eyebrow, stepping away from Gwaine and closer towards Arthur, who had to fight the urge to back up as he saw the challenging look on her face. „I heard Lady Morgana is a brilliant fighter with the sword. Furthermore even beautiful ladies have to defend themselves, don’t you think, Arthur?“

With these words she lifted her sword, and started to circle him. And before Arthur knew what was happening, she had attacked him. Quickly Arthur dodged it, but she was faster than he had initially presumed. For a short time he could do nothing other than dodge her attacks, and from get in a few lousy assaults, that she dodged. Until he finally found a gap in her tactic. Quickly he ducked, jumping to the side, holding the knife right to her neck.
She panted heavily, but to his surprise grinned at him, wider than she had never smiled at him before. „Impressive“, she said, and Arthur lowered his sword, slightly proud of himself that after all that failure he had finally managed to impress her.
„It would be an honour if you would teach me a bit more about sword fighting“, she said, before handing her sword back to a servant.
„It would be an honour“, Arthur answered with a bow, before looking back at her, seeing her straightening her shirt. „Tired already?“, he asked her, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. „Uh. I meant-“ But (y/n) just laughed.
„I have been doing this for the past two hours, Arthur. Yes, I am a bit tired. But you could join me tomorrow at the same time.“
And with these words she turned around and headed back to the castle.
Next to him he heard Gwaine whistle. „And you really searched for an excuse to not marry her? Well, if you don’t want to, I would not be far from me to do so instead.”
Arthur furled his brows. „Who told you-“ But then it hit him. „Merlin!“
„Oops, was that a secret?“, Merlin grinned, and ducked, for Arthur had thrown his sword at him.



„You like her“, Merlin grinned, as he hung Arthur’s shirts in his wardrobe.
„Who?“ He tried to play stupid. Maybe then he would finally let him go.
„Lady (y/n), of course. You like her.“
Arthur ran a hand over his face, deeply annoyed. „Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?“
But Merlin simply shrugged. „You haven’t objected. So you do like her.“
„Merlin, I-“
„Admit it, Sire. You’ll be much happier afterwards.“
„Merlin!“
„Just stop lying to yourself, Arthur.“
„Merlin!“, Arthur shouted finally. „I do like her, okay? Can you please shut up now?“
But Merlin simply grinned, carrying on putting Arthur’s clothes back in his wardrobe. „I knew it.“


It was after dinner, and Arthur had bid her outside, now struggling for the right words to say. Being with her was like a blessing for him, yet, most of the time he was tensed, carefully thinking about everything he said. He had really come to like her, and he would never forgive himself if he were to make a fool out of himself in front of her. If he hadn’t done this already.
„I am really glad you decided to visit“, Arthur started, not really sure on how he would go on from there. He was making this up as he went. „Our marriage-“. He stopped and cleared his throat. 

To his relief, (y/n) opened her mouth, to help. „I know. It was our parent’s plans. But, well, the marriage isn’t even scheduled. So if you still need a way out-“

Arthur stopped. „What? Who told you – Merlin.“ He made a mental note to kill him later. Painfully.
To his big surprise (y/n) just laughed. „He did. And I have to admit, at first I wasn’t too fond of this wedding either.“ Arthur nodded slowly, turning his gaze away from her, and sweeping over his kingdom.

„So was I“, he hesitated. „But now“, he started, turning around to face her, his expression serious, „I don’t think that anymore.“ He was determined to at least tell her how he felt, even though – he just realised – the chances of being rejected were rising higher and higher. A sick feeling began to grow in his stomach, and even though he reminded himself, that he was the Prince of Camelot, and she would have to marry him anyways, the feeling wouldn’t vanish. He loved her. But he didn’t want her if she didn’t feel the same for him. He would never dare to force her into an undesired marriage.
But to his surprise, a smile started to form on her face. „Arthur, are you honest?“
He nodded. „Yes. I was persuaded to attend the wedding due to my father’s orders and my duty as the Prince of Camelot.“ He took a deep breath, knowing that now, it would be all or nothing. „But now, I am persuaded to keep that engagement open, not to my duty, nor my orders, but to my heart.“

„Are you sure?“, she asked and Arthur nodded, carefully taking her hands in his. „I have never been more certain of anything else in my entire life.“



requested by anon

talafairy  asked:

Can you please do a fic about Marco meeting Tom's parents?

Okay! I was assuming you wanted this based on the happy headcanon when they meet Marco and get along great even though Tom was scared they wouldn’t like him because he was human! I had so much fun with this and I loved writing it! It was really fun! Enjoy!

——————————————————————————————-

Tom held Marco’s hand and led him through the halls in the kingdom. It was dark in here and Marco had to squint. “Yeah, sorry about the lights, I guess the creatures of darkness stereotype sticks.” Tom poked fun. Marco laughed lightly and he led the human down the hallway. “Just so you know… I feel like I should warn you, you’re meeting my mom AND dad… at the same time.” Tom explained.

“Yeah! I’m excited.” Marco beamed. Tom got an anxious look.

“Yeah but here’s the problem. My mom and dad sort of hate each other.” Tom admitted. “They got divorced thousands of years ago, got together again on a whim fifteen years ago and had a kid. Then separated again.” Tom explained. “They HATE each other! And even more so… I didn’t tell them you were a human.” Tom admitted. “I don’t know how they’ll react.”

“I’m sure it will be okay Tommy.” Marco promised. Tom bit his lip.

“I don’t know… there’s so much tension as it is! My father is the king of the underworld. Black magic and stuff, they call him the king of darkness.” Tom explained. “My mother on the other hand is a demon deity of the sun and stars. She was a warrior princess. Always fighting for and against other dimensions, she’s who I got my fire powers from, my dad is totally one-hundred percent darkness.” Tom finished. “So you can see why they don’t click.” He added.

“Tom, stop stressing, thy sound fine.” Marco assured. They went through the castle and came to a large door. Tom was about to open it but they heard harsh voices on the other side. Tom groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Enough Ialapereji!” A voice barked.

“How can you say that about him? For all we know he’s a lovely young boy!” Another voice growled back. Tom sighed; they were talking about Marco. He opened the door and led Marco to the middle of the room. The room was divided into two sides. A woman illuminated one side. She had dark skin with what looked like freckles of glitter. She had mounds and mounds of big curly hair that was a very light yellow that faded into rose gold. It was done in big beautiful, dreadlocks that looped everywhere. He hair itself was probably bigger than her body. She wore a yellow dress, so light yellow that it could easily be mistaken for white. And it had gold trimmings. He nails were done extravagantly with jewels and crystals. She got up at once when she saw Tom.

“Oh my little boy is back!” She cried. She ran over and gave Tom a hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages and ages! How much time has passed down here?” She asked. Tom smiled and gave her a hug.

“About a year.” He told her. She put a hand to her heart and hugged her son.

“Oh I’ve missed you.” She beamed. She then looked over at Marco. “Tom… is this… a human?” She asked, very carefully. Tom bit his lip.

“Yes but… mom I can explain!” He insisted. The woman looked at him.

“Explain how such a beautiful creature was dragged down into such a dark place? I think not.” She insisted. She ran over and hugged Marco. He arms were thick and strong, she was able to lift him up and squeeze him tightly. “Forgive this drab place.” She begged. “Oh look at you, Tom you didn’t tell me he was so lovely!” She cried. “I’m Ialapereji.” She smiled.

“Nice to meet you.” Marco smiled. “Ila… Iala…” Marco trailed off and the woman laughed.

“I know it’s a mouthful; it means sun and star in our native tongue. Humans have a hard time with this language. Please call me Lila.” She insisted, beaming.

“That’s enough Ialapereji, let him be.” The dark man spoke. The bright woman got up and made a face.

“Can you ever, EVER be hospitable? Not everyone wants to be ignored in a chamber of solitude and darkness, Lucifer!” She snapped.

“Well not everyone wants to be drowned in affection either!” He hissed back. “You treat everyone who comes in like their Queen Butterfly herself!” He cried. Tom grumbled and cleared his throat loudly. His parents stopped and looked back at the two boys.

“Please, Marco, come forward.” Lucifer requested. Marco gulped and stepped forward to be judged by Tom’s father. He couldn’t even make the man out! He looked like a big black shadow with horns. “How curious, a human being developing affection for a demon.” He muttered. Lila rolled her eyes. Lucifer reached his hand down and Marco shook it. “I admire a person with such a strong character, most humans would be frightened by a demon. It’s a respectable quality you have Marco Diaz.” He told the boy.

Marco beamed and rubbed the back of his had. “Well Tom was nothing if not persistent.” Marco laughed. Both Lila and Lucifer laughed as well and Tom smiled a tiny bit as Marco continued. Lila walked over to stand next to Lucifer as Marco told them everything. “We actually started off not liking each other very much. But Tom just was so sweet I couldn’t help falling for him.” Marco shared.

“Oh he was always kind to you?” Lila asked. Marco giggled.

“Well, not when we first met. We fought a lot. He was tough too, whenever one of us picked a fight, he never backed down.” Marco laughed.

“That’s my son!” Lila smiled. Lucifer smiled a bit too and nodded.

“You did raise him to be quite strong. Thanks to you I… I never worried for him.” Lucifer admitted. Lila smiled at him and nodded her head a bit.

“My teachings were never needed, you always made sure the castle was an acceptable home for a child and… that’s important too.” She assured. Lucifer nodded and they looked back at Marco, who was waving at Tom.

Tom had a big grin on his face, thrilled with the reaction he was getting. He thought his parents would hate the fact Marco was human, but they both loved it! He smiled as Marco continued telling them all about himself and how he and Tom got along.

They talked for a long while until Tom took Marco’s hand. “You told your parents you’d be home soon.” Tom explained. Marco nodded.

“Goodbye, Lila, goodbye King Lucifer.” Marco waved. The parents waved goodbye and asked a few last minute questions. Tom smiled and led Marco out, opening a portal to bring him home. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Tom, they weren’t mean to each other a all. Maybe a bit at first but, not bad.” Marco reminded. Tom scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah they… usually aren’t like that.” Tom explained. He smiled over at Marco and gave him a deep kiss. Marco pulled back, blushing.

“What was that for?” Marco asked. Tom shrugged.

“Just for being you.”

Part 3 - The King, The Prince, and the Lion

Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole is an ongoing story about our MC, who could easily be anyone in voltage fandom. She woke up in hospital bed only to discover that she’d somehow been transported Voltage universe:

Part 1 (Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole)

Part 2 (The Tres Spades)

Part 3 - The King, The Prince, and the Lion

I’ll admit that “game” Eisuke had always turned me off. I found him far too arrogant for my liking and borderline abusive in his behavior towards the MC.

However, standing in front of the “real” Eisuke Ichinomiya, I finally got what all the fuss was about.

Unlike the others, Eisuke was far more handsome than his sprite ever let on. In our world, there’s no way he would ever have been a hotel mogul - he was far too beautiful for that. He would have been given a reality show like the Kardashians, and toured the world making appearances at clubs, all the while promoting his male skin care line or clothing brand.

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Velvet Box- Part 2 (Jungkook + Hoseok Mafia AU)

Originally posted by pjmjjk


A/N: Basically just smut

Summary: Hoseok is like a king and he makes you feel like his queen- but how did he really build his kingdom? Does Jungkook get jealous of your and Hoseok’s developing relationship, or is he trying to warn you of something?

Genre: Ansgt, Smut, Fluff

Pairings: Reader x Jungkook, Reader x Hoseok

Word count: 5k

Trigger Warnings: Smut, swearing, strippers, criminal activity, thigh riding, oral, spanking, mentions of drinking

“Princess, I told you to stop calling it that. I’m not a mafia, okay?”

Part 1

You weren’t the most conservative person, but you would still be anxious to bring an owner of a strip club home to meet your parents. You imagine your father’s face when he finds out you are dating Hoseok. You laugh to yourself- you haven’t even gone on the first date with him and you’re already thinking about that. The lipstick you’re applying looks nice, you decide as you pucker your lips in the mirror. Hoseok said to wear something nice, so you settled on a black cocktail dress that flowed to just above your knees. You would normally opt for something more daring, but the thought of being around Hoseok in anything more revealing just made you blush.

When you look at the time, you see that he’ll be at your apartment to pick you up in a few minutes. You took three deep breaths and tried to settle your raging nerves.

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anonymous asked:

A HC where RFA+V+Saeran invite MC to a mask party (the party where all people wear mask) but they come separately so MC doesn't know how their S/o looks like. How will they greet your MC and ask them to dance? (I'm a slut for Zen Phantom of the Opera style)

tbh same

Mini fanfic warning!

(This ended up being so long so i didnt write Jaehee or Yoosung. ;_; I’ll add them in the future~)

_

Intro:

As soon as MC had stepped inside the ballroom, she felt as if she was taken into a whole other world.

The masked-faces surrounding her were all not familiar, and she could not see a face she recognized.

Zen:

The white headed man was easy to spot in a crowd. His long hair shined in the dim light of the room.

He knew this would happen, so he had prepared for it very well. His soulmate was not by his side, and all he could think of was having her roleplay with him a little.

He had his hair tied and covered by the dark red cloak he wore over his fancy dark suit. His mask had covered half of his face and he could not take that smug smirk off his face.

He saw her, entering the room, she looked fascinating in her blood red dress, her hair tied up cleanly and her mask trimmed with black lace.

He waited for her in the shadows, his red eyes glowing, he called for her name and she turned to look in the direction she had heard her voice, faintly called.

She saw him, her hands gripped her dress as she ran up to him, only for him to step back into the darkness.

She had followed him, running through the crowds, her hands raising her dress up, as she followed him into an alley.

He waited for her, his back resting on the dead end of the alley. He had let his hood off his head, his arms crossed.

He smirked as soon as he saw MC drop her dress down onto the ground, panting as she slowly walked towards him. “Zen?” She said between heavy breaths.

Zen approached her and placed his hand under her chin. “Hello there.” He purred, resting his forehead on her’s. “I would love to ask you for a dance, but it seems that my inner beast tells me to have you dance with me until the night ends.”

Zen lowered his head a little more and the two had begun their night with a passionate yet steamy kiss.


Jumin:


Jumin did not like staying in the shadows. He was surrounded by the guests he had invited to the party.

He was giving fake smiles here and talking business there.

The moment he had seen her step inside, he walked away with no goodbye or farewell to send. It was impolite but he had more inappropriate thoughts on his head, as he saw that tight dress.

That tight mermaid dress, that gripped on her hips and curves. As much as she looked good, he hated that dress .

He wanted no one to see her curves other than him, and he wanted to be the one to grip on those killer hips she has.

He went into the shadows, walking quickly towards her- but soon he stopped. He saw her wandering around, looking for something- for someone.

He waited and waited, and soon enough, she stepped into an empty corridor. He followed her, like her shadow.

She, on the other hand, was freaking out, as the faded sound footsteps she heard was getting stronger. More over, each time she passed by the lights, they closed.

It didn’t take long until she had reached what she expected, a dead end.

Jumin took a few more steps forward and wrapped his arm around her waist.

She almost screamed if it wasnt for him turning her around and crashing his lips on hers.

“You are as magnificent as ever, I think we might have to leave early tonight, but that will not be until we dance..”

707:

(This is really short ohmygod)

He danced, a soft smile on his face as his mask hid his charming face.

He moved, from the woman he was dancing with to another. He stole each and every heart he danced with.

His small conversations and silly jokes broke the ice easily, his smile was enough to make even men idolize him.

Then he saw her, he felt the need, he wanted to dance with her, he tried to get close to her, skipping many beautiful women who wanted to take that last dance he had to offer before his mission was over.

Everytime he got close to her, she seemed too far for him to reach.

She had already left the dance floor and headed out to the backyard of the Home the Masquerade was hosted in.

He followed her, like a child following his mother, he started running, just to reach her faster-

But he stopped.

He has so many others to dance with, yet he is desperate to share his beautiful evening with her.

Then she stopped, turned around and to look behind her, smiling at him as she took her mask off.

“Defender of Justice and the Seven Kingdoms, 707.”

Luciel took a deep breath, as he laughed. He didn’t expect the woman he fell in love with online to be the same woman who enchanted him.

He approached her, with no hesitation, he softly pecked her lips, she pulled him into an actual deep kiss, their lips moved together in a heated dance. (Ironic I know)

It felt short as the two moved away from eachother. Luciel smiled, a legit real smile, as he looked in the eyes of the woman in front of him.

“God 707 commands you to share a dance with him under the moonlight!”

“Like a soap opera?”

“Like a soap opera!”

V:

(After surgery because lol.)

He stood, back resting on the wall behind him. He was surrounded by a small crowd compared to what was around him when the night started.

He was basically one of the hosts of the party, he had to participate in entertaining the guests as he failed doing that for a long time.

He laughed as he continued to speak about each painting displayed in this victorian-themed castle.

“Now that you have your vision, Will you be photographing soon?” A woman in the crowd asked, “I would love to see your magnificent photographs. I’m sure that I will buy one.”

Jihyun laughed, as he ran a hand through his obvious blue hair. “I’m looking for something, Something that inspires me to take pictures once more.”

It wasn’t long before the crowd was gone and before another one could come, V covered his hair with the spare cloak Zen gave him.

He said it was for disguise, and it seemed to be working well.

Jihyun had his camera in hand, it wasn’t the usual professional camera, Just a simple one with high quality pictures.

He wandered the top floor, his eyes roaming around, looking for his next masterpiece.

He headed downstairs, and Jihyun thought that he never made a choice this good.

Her night sky-colored dress was the most enchanting thing V had ever seen, but what put it’s beauty to shame, was that the woman wearing it had the beauty of a goddess.

He didn’t know who she was, but she looked heavily familiar, a faded face in Jihyun’s memory.

V walked towards her, and asked her to head upstairs, telling her that one of the hosts was taking the names of the guests.

He ran upstairs, turning around to see her, as she slowly made her way up the long brown staircase.

click

Her dress showed her cleaveage, her hand on the stair’s rail, her hair tied up neatly, her eyes gleaming, her other hand holding her dress up so she could move. Her mask covered her face, and she looked magnificent

V swore to himself that this was the best photo he took in a while. He took the cloak’s hood off along with his mask.

The woman giggled a little, taking her own mask off. “Ji.” She said, in the voice V can never forget.

“MC..” Jihyun gasped a little before laughing. “Would you mind sharing a dance with me, and after that a glass of wine?”

“I would love to dance, but why the wine part? If you dont mind me asking. Although I would still like an answer, even if you did mind.” She smiled as V laughed once more.

“You are my new inspiration.” He smiled as he took her hand, kissing it as he lead her downstairs.

Unknown:


Eyes scanning the whole room, legs as if they were walking on their own, he had his hands in his pockets, the right side of his face covered by his black mask.

He looked elegant and neat, as much as he hated to admit it.

Saeran was almost stand-sleeping, if that was a thing. He was waiting for his orders, when to move.

But then he saw it, her navy blue dress tailing behind her, Her eyes gleaming with confidence

He recognized her, she was the toy that started everything. He smirked, as he called her name.

Her head turned towards his side, she saw white hair, green eyes.

She smiled as she walked towards him. He took the hand she raised and kissed it, looking at her, his lips turned up, smirking as he parted away from her hand.

He let go of her and walked away from her, walking to wherever.

MC stood there for a second but then walked after him, following him like a lost kitten in the middle of nowhere.

He turned to look at her, his eyes darkening as he felt himself need.

He needed to touch her, kiss her, have her. His feelings could not be put into words. She was enchanting, and he can’t help himself.

He took her hand, pushing her towards him as he placed his hand on her waist, looking down at her.

He admired the way she blushed and turned her head away, exposing her neck to him.

He planted his face into the crook of her neck and whispered, “Let me enjoy every inch of you, as we dance tonight.”

Let’s just say, he forgot why he originally came to this Masquerade.

The Greatest Thing You’ll Ever Learn

So since my blog got deleted, over the next few weeks I’ll be reposting most of my old one shots. 

Summary:

A Lieutenant Duckling AU loosely based on the film Moulin Rouge. But with a happy ending.

Word Count: ~8k


The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love, and be loved in return.

-/-

“I’m joining the Navy, father, with Liam.”

Davey Jones glowered at his son. “Fine, if you want to throw your life away, serving the king, instead of earning a good living at the shop, then so be it. Just don’t come back here complaining to me because the life of a penniless sailor wasn’t as good as you thought it would be.”

That was the last time Killian Jones saw his father.

-/-

“Bring her in, lads,” called Captain Liam Jones called to the crew as the eased the Jewel of the Realm into port.

The docked near a small town on the outskirts of Belle and Rumplestiltskin’s kingdom. Montmartre it was called.

Belle’s kingdom had an alliance with Queen Snow White and King David’s Kingdom, so the Jewel and its crew received civil welcome.

The local dance hall and pub was an establishment by the name of the Rouge, and it was where the gentlemen, sailors, officers and the like went if they had an empty evening to fill.

The star of the Rouge was a woman called the Sparkling Diamond, and it was rumored that she was the most beautiful woman in all the realms.

The crew of the Jewel was eager to have an evening off after weeks at sea.

“Here,” said Liam, tossing his younger brother some fine garments that they had procured at a foreign port.

“What is this for?” asked Killian.

The Rouge is a gentlemen’s club, and you should look the part.“

"Everyone else is wearing their naval garb,” said Killian.

“Yes, but your uniform needs to be tailored. You’ll wear this. Who knows, you might catch the eye of the Sparkling Diamond.”

Killian grinned nervously. “One can only hope.”

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