#i still need to watch a tale of melodies though

[suiker]

shout out to the eight people still seeding the op and eds of ef - a tale of memories - you guys are real af

#i suddenly remembered today oh yeah those songs are pretty neat i want those #i still need to watch a tale of melodies though #i actually quite liked ef so there you go recommendation if you want

[angelicyoongie]

The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

"Captain, this is a bad idea."

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain's decision. There's an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that's spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, "This is the fastest route."

"That may be, Captain, but it's not worth the risk. Haven't you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There's a reason it's called The Dead Man's passage!”

A ripple of murmurs flow through the crowd at the reminder, the passage's deadly reputation making it somewhat of a ghost story – a tale every seafarer hears at one point or another. You don't know much; the few crews that have managed the journey safely have been tight-lipped about their experience, their eyes left haunted. The part that has always baffled you the most about the stories is that the ships themselves always make it through the passage, fully intact and filled with loot, but their crews never do. It's like they all vanish without a trace, like they've just been whisked away by the wind – never to be seen again. 

The captain clears his throat, a sharp sound that cuts through the growing voices on deck, silencing them immediately. 

"We have no choice. If we continue on the intended route we'll run out of food and fresh water a week before we reach the nearest port. Cutting through the passage will save us valuable time. I would never take this risk and endanger the crew if someone had done their job properly." 

You glance to the side, catching the eye of the cowering boatswain.

He's young, far too young to handle such responsibility on his own. He's only just grown into his ears, the top of his head barely reaching the captain's shoulders. He was thrust into the position much too soon, but it couldn't be helped. The previous boatswain suddenly succumbed to an infected wound just a few days before you were scheduled to leave the last port. It left all of you scrambling to pick up the slack around the ship and the poor lad must've been forgotten in the mess.

You had tried to delegate someone to help him, but the captain had been firm that he needed to do it on his own, to build character. It's no wonder he wasn't able to calculate the needed supplies correctly, not when he was still grieving the loss of his mentor at the same time. 

You notice the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of the young boatswain's face, his skin flushed with nerves. You can't let the poor lad be punished for his sorrow, not when this whole predicament could've been avoided. 

Letting out a small sigh, you lower your head in apology, "I'm sorry, Captain. I should've made sure everything was in order, this is no one's fault but mine." 

"I expected better from you, Quartermaster," The Captain's comment cuts deep, even though you know this wasn't your fault. "Very well. Seeing as you have placed our crew in peril, I doubt you will oppose the solution to the problem you have created?" 

You grit your teeth, dipping your head lower as you say, "Of course not, Captain. I apologize for speaking out of turn." 

Clenching your hands by your side, you try to focus on the hot sun beating down your neck as you tune out the captain's voice. Getting angry won't do you any good here, not when you've already admitted defeat. The heavy thumps of feet moving all around you tells you that the crew is already beginning to change the ship's course, listening to the captain's orders as he yells them out. You shake your head, stomach churning as you realize that no one dares to challenge him, even if they all know deep down that they're being lead straight to the deaths. 

You steel yourself as polished boots pause in front of yours, eye twitching as you look up and meet the captain's gaze. His solemn expression doesn't quite match the light tone of his voice as he leans in to say, "A hungry crew is a dangerous crew, Y/n. I don't think I need to remind you why that is."

Suppressing a shudder, you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that his little comment has had the intended effect, bad memories already swirling in the back of your mind. Instead, you stare him down, defiant as ever until he shakes his head and walks off in the direction of his cabin.

It's only when he's out of sight that you reach up to trace the raised skin on your throat, the jagged scar that greets you whenever you glance in a mirror. No, there's no reminder nor threat needed. You know first-hand just how desperate a person can become when they're feeling depraved of what makes them human. 

You swallow thickly, ripping your hand away from the old wound. There's no use dwelling on the past, there's nothing from that day that can help you now. 

The sound of the sails billowing out as they catch more wind jerks your attention forward, gentle waves crashing against the hull of the ship as it picks up speed. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the salty air and pray to whatever god that might be listening that you'll be able to make it out of the passage alive. 

The night has already fallen, the moon high in the sky, by the time you catch sight of the two large rock formations in the distance. Everything about the passage screams unnatural and strange, the two small mountains practically appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the sea. While they look to be on the smaller side, you know there's no way to sail around them. The waters are littered with reefs and strong currents, all traps that are bound to sink unsuspecting ships. You can make out the faint outline of a few of them on the horizon, their broken masts and half-sunken hulls serving as a haunting reminder that the only way past the passage is through it. 

You squint as you notice a faint glow in the distance, the light too obscure to make out properly on deck. You quickly make your way up to the helm, hoping the raised platform will provide a better view. 

"What's that?" You murmur, shooting the coxswain a worried glance.

"Ain't anything good, that's for sure," The man grumbles in reply. He tightens his grip on the wheel, eyebrows drawn tight as the ship steadily draws closer and closer. 

The faint glow grows brighter with each passing minute, more and more sources of light appearing all over the two mountains. You suck in a breath as the ship enters the passage, the area so tight it barely allows for two vessels to pass each other. The close proximity allows you to see the lights more clearly, and you're shocked to discover that it seems to be coming from huge white flowers sprouting from the mountain sides. There's something algae-like clinging to the base of the mountains as well, illuminating the edges of the passage like guiding lights, beckoning you in. 

The ship glides smoothly through the channel, the soft current carrying you all through the quiet water. Based on the stories you've heard you were expecting treacherous waves and jagged rocks that appear out of nowhere to throw the crew off-board, but there's none of that. In fact, there's nothing that points to this passage being dangerous at all, no signs of broken planks or fabric clinging to the mountain, no sunken ships visible below the surface. You can almost fool yourself into thinking that no other humans have ever sailed through these mountains before. 

As beautiful and untouched as the passage may seem, there is something terribly unnerving about the silence that has settled over the ship. The crew has gone completely still, like they're scared of breaking the quiet. Likewise, you can't really find it in yourself to make any noise either, your lips pressed firmly together as you anxiously scan the mountain for hidden threats. 

You've almost made it halfway through the passage when you first hear it.

There's a low hum, barely louder than the noise of the water breaking against the ship, that echoes between the tall rocks. You have to strain your ears to hear it at first, but the sound seems to grow with each gust of wind in the ship's sails, gradually increasing the further into the mountains you go. 

You can't make out any words, the language either too old or foreign for you to understand, but the angelic voice behind them makes your heart yearn. You can feel the melody wrapping itself around your heart, squeezing, as it roots itself in your ribcage, sorrowful tendrils clinging to each bone. 

"Come to the water."

The wind carries the whisper straight to your ear, caressing your skin like a warm breath, before it travels on. You jerk forward at the sensation, whipping your head around to locate where the voice could be coming from.

There's no one around you aside from the coxswain who looks to be lost in thought, mouth slack as he stares ahead. 

You glance down at the deck, frowning as you notice that more and more of the crew are beginning to abandon their posts. They're all migrating to the right side of the ship, walking on unsteady feet like they've been guzzling down barrels of mead. 

"Come to me."

You wince as the singing grows more intense, your breath stuttering in your chest in response to the voice that's so desperately calling for you.

You blink, eyes struggling to adjust, as the flowers and the algae on the mountains begin to thin out, taking their light away with them. As if that wasn't bad enough, a great shadow is suddenly cast upon the passage, the last of the illumination you had rapidly disappearing behind thick clouds as the moon is hidden away. 

You curse under your breath, mentally taking note of the lit oil lanterns hanging around the ship. There's ten, no– nine, but if you gather them all up and place them near the bow, maybe it'll be enough light to get the ship safely out of the passage? 

"I need to– hey!" You stumble back as the coxswain bumps into you, his eyes unseeing as he stumbles towards the stairs to the lower deck. A sudden drift to the side propels him forward, allowing him to slip out of your reach before you can grab his shirt and haul him back. 

"Shit," You hiss, only giving yourself a split second to hesitate before whirling around to grab the wheel. The wood has already begun to turn left without the coxswain's steady hands to lead the way and the ship groans as you hurry to correct it back on the right path. 

You keep a tight vise on the wheel, leaning forward to yell out for another crewmate to take over, when you hear the first splash. 

Hurriedly glancing down at the deck, the swaying lanterns provide just enough light to show one of the cooks climbing over the railing, his movements stilted and jerky as he suddenly flings himself off the ship. Your scream is caught in your throat, your eyes wide with horror as you hear the subsequent splash of his body hitting the water. 

What in the gods is going on?

Feet rooted to the floor and fear squeezing the back of your neck with a iron grip, you can only watch as the crew all clamber over the railing, throwing themselves off the ship one by one. The steady melody echoing between the mountains is only interrupted by the terrible sound of bodies sinking into the ocean.

Dread settles deep into the pit of your stomach as you realize there are no screams, no gasps for air, only silence – and him, the voice that's begging you to come rest along your brethren in the deep, peaceful ocean. 

"No," You wheeze, shaking your head to rid the fog that's has begun creeping in. You cling to the wheel, fingers slick with sweat as you try to keep the ship steady, ignoring the blur that has settled at the edge of your vision. 

"Captain!"

Hope shoots through your veins as you find your captain in the dwindling crowd, his bulky figure illuminated by the dancing lights as he stumbles over to the nearest crewmate, pulling them back from the railing. He pushes a few men back, his strength sending them sliding back to the middle of the deck.

You almost loosen your grip, ready to run down and help him, when he abruptly turns his back on them and jumps over the railing in one swift motion. He lands on the small ledge just outside of it, heels shuffling not to slip as he grips the banister with one arm. 

"Captain!" The scream rips out of your throat, carrying across the silent deck like a bullet.

The captain shudders as it reaches him, his body jerking back and forth like he can't make up his mind on whether he should jump or not. Horrified, you watch as he twists his upper body around to face you, his expression stricken as he meets your gaze across the ship. He almost looks like he just came out of a trance, his face drenched in sweat and skin grey with fear as he tries to figure out how he ended up at the edge of the vessel.

You can see mouth opening, his lips forming around the first syllables of your name when the angelic voice suddenly grows louder, the haunting melody reverberating between the mountains. The captain's mouth goes slack, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he once again succumbs to spell that was controlling him. The last thing you see as the captain lets go of the railing, is the serene smile that takes over his face, his eyes closing as he falls backwards into the ocean. 

Heart pounding inside your chest, you stare blankly at the now empty spot where your captain stood. You flinch, sick to your stomach, at the heavy splash that follows only seconds later. 

"Lay your tired body to rest." 

Your fingers twitch at the command, a little whisper in the back of your mind begging you to obey – to give in. You legs have started to shake, sweat sliding down your back in a steady stream at the effort it takes to resist the pull. 

Even as you struggle to gulp down enough air, your body in overdrive from the unfathomable things you've just seen, you still find your pulse quickening, panic flooding every fibre of your being as it finally dawns on you what's going on. 

You've sailed right into the territory of a siren. 

Perhaps you should have seen it coming – the tales of the passage all emphasize how it's only the crew that go missing, not the ships. You've heard whispers about creatures lurking in the deep ocean, of monsters that eat humans, but you never expected that you would ever encounter them. They were folktales, something you chose not to believe in to protect your own sanity as a seafarer. Now, you can only curse yourself for not trusting your instincts the moment you felt the unearthly atmosphere of the mountains; that you didn't have enough forethought to at least stuff your ears and tie each crewmate to their post as a precaution. 

Maybe it would've been enough to save the them – to save you. 

You cower against the wheel as the song grows so loud it causes your ears to ring, the voice promising peace and eternal slumber. It urges, demands, your body to move and you whimper fearfully as your feet take a step back against your will. 

You can't tell how much time has passed since the ship entered the mountains, it could be mere minutes or it could be hours – but as you peer into the looming darkness, you can finally make out where the passage ends and opens back up to the vast sea. The joy fizzles out before it can even take root, the sight in front of you filling you with a sense of glum acceptance. Even if you can see the end, there's no way you'll make it there. The ship is moving too slow, almost no wind making it past the tall mountains. 

Your head throbs painfully as the siren's whispers turns more insistent. You can feel the creature's wrath, how angry he is that you're still resisting him. The increased pressure behind your skull makes you groan, your vision going dark as you're hit with a sudden dizzy spell. 

Gripping the wheel, you're confused to find that the woods feels thicker, less polished, than it was only seconds before. You force your eyelashes to part despite the sharp pain it gives you, blinking furiously to clear your swimming vision. Your knees nearly buckle as the silent waters below come into focus, your body no longer on the upper deck. Dazed, you stare at the white knuckled grip you have on the railing, your feet tucked into the openings between the posts. 

"Oh gods," You whisper shakily.

You have no idea how you got here. 

The sound of a soft splash makes you turn your head to the side. Your throat runs dry as you watch the big circle of ripples that fan out from the spot where something dived underwater, the waves much too big to come from a normal fish. As you keep looking at the one spot in disbelief, one of the lanterns on the ship sway outwards, following the rocking of the ship. 

It takes you a moment to realize what you're seeing, the stale bread you had earlier that day shooting up your throat as the waters on the side of the vessel is lit up. The ocean is no longer the clear blue it was when you entered the passage but rather a murky red, saturated with what must be the blood of your crewmates. 

The sight makes you heave, tears springing to your eyes as the reality truly settles in. 

You're going to die. 

The siren – the predator – luring you all to your deaths, is clearly waiting right below, ripping everyone apart the moment they're submerged below the water. Even if the shock of the cold sea woke them up from their trance, they would have no chance to fight off such a vicious creature. You have no chance. The moment you step off the ship, you're dead.

You sob as the shock tapers off, the singing once again hitting you with full force. You can't stop your own body as you clumsily clamber over the railing, your feet moving without your permission. It's only when you hit the ledge that you find yourself able to jerk back, a moment of temporary control allowing you to plaster yourself against the banister. 

Staring down at the crimson sea, you find your mind going blank. You always expected to see flashes of your life pass by your eyes when faced with certain death but there's nothing. No happy memories to numb the inevitable pain of being torn apart, muscles shredded to bits as water fills your lungs. No echoes of the voices you adore saying that they love you and that everything will be okay. 

Instead, there's only the deadly quiet sea and the siren's taunting whispers urging you to jump. 

You eye the dark water, noticing a large shape moving closer just under the surface of the ocean. You mindlessly reach for the dagger on your hip, clutching it tightly in your hand even if it means you're only clinging on with one arm. If your death is unavoidable, then you're sure as hell not going down without inflicting a deep cut or two. 

As something begins to emerge from the water, the song that has been constantly ringing between your ears suddenly quiets down. Your skin puckers with goosebumps, all the hair on your body rising in fear as a head slowly rises above the surface. The siren's dark locks are one with the water, the long strands flowing into the ocean like spindly fingers. In the dark, there's no telling where it ends, as if the ocean is merely an extension of the creature itself.

Two pitch black eyes, as dark and deep as the starless skies above, lock onto yours the moment they rise above the surface. The flickering lantern doesn't offer much assistance but the poor light tells you that it has no discernible pupils, nothing to indicate that there's any life in them. It's like staring into an endless void. 

Despite the chill those eyes send down your spine, your feet willingly takes another step forward, like the mere presence of the creature alone is enough to entrance your body. You let out a pained scream as you slip, your shoulder popping loudly as you manage to grab onto a post, one arm working desperately to keep you from failing into the water below. 

"No, no, no," You whimper, gravity making it impossible to reach up with your other arm. You won't be able to pull yourself up even if you drop your knife, the small ledge above making it impossible to locate another post. 

You glance down as you dangle from the ship, your grip almost slipping out of fright as the siren's maw comes into view above water. His jaw is unhinged, hellish, mouth stretched way past that of a normal human. It's filled with rows of fang-like teeth, all stained with crusted blood. Terrified, you watch as the siren seems to simply pop his jaw back into place, like the fact that it was just opened so wide it was touching his sternum poses no issues at all.

The creature tilts his head, thinking, as he watches you struggle to drag yourself up. He swims closer, the movement so fluent it looks like he's just gliding through the water. Your arm is shaking terribly by the time he's only a few feet away from where you'll hit the ocean, your shoulder screaming with hurt from holding on for so long. 

Through the blinding pain, you see the siren reach out a webbed hand, his long black claws nearly the size of his fingers. He gives you a smile you can only describe as sinister, blood stained teeth on display and his voice melodious as he says, "Come, pet."

You can feel the thrall taking hold this time, your body willingly going slack one limb after the other. You have no time to think, no time to act, before your hand simply just lets go of the railing on its own volition.

In the second it takes for your body to fall, before your eyes squeeze shut and your body is surrendered to the water – all you can think as you spare the skies one last glance, is that the gods must be cruel if they can't even give you a starry night to look upon before you're torn apart by their horrific creation. 

Groaning, you slowly open your eyes. There's a dull ache at the base of your skull and every blink up at the pink-tinted sky only seems to make it throb more. The surface you're lying on is hard, terribly uncomfortable, and there's no steady rocking motion to soothe you back to sleep for a few extra minutes of rest. 

Something feels wrong.

It's only when your eyes have fully adjusted to the soft light that you're snapped back to reality, the distant sound of waves breaking bringing back the memories of the night before. You jerk upright, heart racing, as they come flooding in all at once. The crew, the siren, the blood. You jumped. You should be dead.

You force yourself to take slow, steady breaths, shakily inhaling air through your nose as you glance around. You can't afford to panic right now, not when you don't know where the creature is or when it might come back. 

The morning sun is just barely peeking over the top of the mountain that's blocking most of your sight, casting a large shadow over what appears to be a lake just in front of you. It's still dark, still dawn, on your side of the mountain and it makes the faint glow on the rocks all the more noticeable. You're too far away to tell for sure but you have a terrible feeling that it's likely the same flowers that you sailed past in the passage. And if you can still see them, that means you must be on the other side of the mountains you attempted to travel through. 

You're sitting near the mouth of what appears to be a small cave, connected by a large piece of flat stone that's jutting out into the lake. It's lined with clusters of big and small rocks, creating an odd border along the sides of it. The mountain around the cave is unnaturally smooth, the incline too sharp for you to even think about climbing it. No matter how much you stare at the rock formation that's surrounding you, you can't find a way out. There's no open space that would allow you to escape.

You eye the other side of the lake with a shudder, noting that it looks to be more rough there with a few ledges and ridges you can probably use to haul yourself up. The only problem is; you'll have to actually swim across the deep body of water first. It sounds like a sure-fire way to get yourself eaten, though you doubt staying here is much better. The creature must've kept you alive and brought you here for a reason, and you're really don't want to find out why that is.

A pained gasp escapes you as you pull your right shoulder back. The initial adrenaline and panic when you woke up must've blocked out most of the hurt of your dislocated shoulder but now that it's starting to fade, it's coming back fast. The bone is still very much popped out of its socket, the area inflamed and swollen as you lightly touch it with trembling fingers. You swallow thickly as your arm begins to twitch, a burning spasm racing from your shoulder to the tips of your hands.

You bite down on your lip to stop your groan, tasting blood as the involuntary cramp continues. 

"Fuck," You wheeze, eyes glazing over as you stare at the rising sun. If you're going to have any chance of escaping, you have no choice but to fix your shoulder. 

You stuff the damp material of your shirt into your mouth, hoping it'll be enough to muffle your voice as you carefully lie back down on the stone. Years on the sea has taught you a thing or two and dislocated shoulders are a common injury when you're part of a crew that loves to brawl whenever they visit a tavern. You've seen the way they pale and yell when it gets adjusted and while you have no idea if the siren will be able to hear you scream – you'd rather not risk it. 

White hot pain pulses out of your shoulder as you extend the arm to raise it above your head, your vision blurring as you slowly reach for your opposite shoulder behind your head. It hurts, gods, it hurts, but you have to do this. You release a muffled scream as the dislocated bone finally pops back into place, cold sweat dripping down your temple as you tremor with pain. You lay there, harshly panting through the cloth in your mouth, until the hurt subsides to only an ache.

You wince as you push yourself off the hard stone, spitting out your shirt to release a labored breath. Your body feels battered and bruised, completely worn down from all the horrors you've been through in the past six or so hours. You have no idea if you even have enough energy to make it across the lake, the distance probably greater than it looks, but what other alternative do you have? 

Just as you're about to get off the ground, the sound of a soft splash echoes between the mountain walls. You jerk, heart skipping a painful beat in your chest as you frantically scan the water. You freeze when you notice how the surface is rippling much closer than expected, only a third of the lake between you and the waves that are parting around a dark shadow.

Out of instinct, your hand falls to your hip, searching for your knife. Your fingers only grip around air, the smooth handle nowhere to be found. In your panic, it takes you a second too long to remember that you held it as you fell from the ship, the knife probably lost somewhere at the bottom of the passage.

You scramble back on the rock as the creature's outline becomes visible, hands reaching out blindly behind your back for anything that can be used as a weapon. 

You falter, blood running cold, as pale arms suddenly reach out of the water, planting themselves square on the edge of the rock. The siren heaves himself up without any issues, resting his back against one of the larger stones that's lining the flat extension of the cave. Water drips off his body like sparkling crystals in the morning light, giving a healthy glow to his otherwise almost sickly white skin. His long black hair hangs like a curtain in front of his face, the strands reaching far past his back, dipping into the water. 

Patches of scales litter his arms and abdomen; a long fin running down the length of his spine. You find it hard to believe your own eyes as you stare at his stomach, at the area where the creature's human-like qualities disappear completely and transitions into that of a fish. His tail is long and thick, dreadfully similar to a serpent in the way it undulates on the rock as the water slowly evaporates from its scales. The slight movement allows the sun to dance across the siren's tail, showing off the iridescent glow that was hidden by the dark night. The sight leaves you transfixed, hues of colors you've only seen in the sky shimmering across his body.

Your attention is only stolen away when the creature raises one of his hands, his webbed fingers and pointed, long nails looking like they've been dipped in black ink. He runs his claws through his hair, parting the long locks that've been hiding his face.

You jerk back, swallowing thickly, when you find that the siren is already staring in your direction. His eyes are just as dark and emotionless as you can recall from the night before, two endless pools of black. The lack of a discernible pupil is unnerving, it makes it all that much harder to tell just where the creature is really looking. Long lashes frame his haunting eyes and the perfect slope of his nose leads down to the plushest, red lips you've ever seen.

You feel yourself pale as he opens his mouth, those horrible sharp teeth becoming visible as he calmly says, "Your knife is long gone, human." The siren dips his head slightly, looking at the way your hand is still resting near your hip, desperate for the familiar comfort of your knife. 

What?

Your mouth parts in disbelief, brain slow to compute the fact that the creature just spoke, out loud, with a voice that sounded eerily human and ordinary. 

"Can you not talk, pet? I swear I heard your sweet voice refusing me when the moon was high." 

"I-I can," You stumble over your words, tongue twisting in your mouth under the siren's watchful gaze. 

"Wonderful!" Something pleased passes over his face, his fin hitting the water with an excited splash. The loud sound makes you flinch, droplets spraying up on the rock just shy of your legs. The corner of the siren's lips quirks at your reaction, as if he finds it funny.

It reminds you of the way your crew used to look at street dogs, their expressions taunting and terrible as they made them do tricks for scraps of food.

It's cheap entertainment, they always used to tell you. 

You can't help but wonder if that's what you are – mere entertainment for the siren until he decides to stop playing with his food.

The thought makes you furious. The mocking twist of his lips gives you a sudden rush of defiance, your rebellious nature rearing its head despite the dangerous predator right in front of you. Perhaps there might have been some truth to what your captain always liked to say – you never quite learned when to back down and keep quiet. 

You breathe in slowly through your nose, attempting to calm your racing heart as you say, "How are you speaking a language I understand?" 

"Easy. Humans are simple creatures and so are their languages," He answers, cocking his head.

"What are you, then?" You blurt, "Parts of you look human and the rest does not. Were you cursed?" 

Like the flip of a coin, the siren's expression turns hard, offended, at the insinuation that he might be human. He jerks forward, lips pulling back to reveal his sharp teeth as he lets out a terrible hiss. The sight sends all the alarm bells inside of you blaring, your shoulder screaming in protest as you collapse backward, using your elbows to drag yourself further inside the cave. 

"I am not a fragile human," He scoffs, turning his head to glance out on the lake. He flexes his tail to deliver another harsh smack to the water surface, the sound bouncing between the walls of crater. "Have you not heard stories, little human? Of creatures blessed with qualities of the sea and land?"

It takes you a moment to regain your voice, fear making it tremble as you carefully say, "Do you mean mermaids?"

"Correct, pet," He hums, "I see you're not completely hopeless." 

You dig your nails into flat rock, voice tight as you ask, "What about the singing? You.. you made everyone jump. I didn't know mermaids could do that." 

The siren looks wistful as tips his head back to face the sun. He closes his eyes with a small sigh, "Life becomes tedious when you stay in the same place for too long. I needed something new, so I left my brothers for colder water after hearing about these great big things that moved through the oceans there. Hm... I wonder if the ships have managed to reach them yet, it must be close to fifty humans years since I left." 

You blink, shocked that the siren is well over twice your age. He looks young, definitely not a day older than you, but you suppose creatures like him must age at a different rate. Clearly the world is much different from what you first thought – slow aging is likely the least fantastical thing out there to discover. 

"The ships lost their charm quickly," He adds, "But the humans on-board were fascinating. They called out to each other in melodies, both happy and sad as they sailed through my home. I was alone here at first, few of my kind dared to venture into colder climates, so the humans were all I had for company. It took me many human years to reshape my throat but I eventually learned to mimic their sounds. After that it was easy to learn the most common tongues that passed through my water."

"One day a ship of humans heard me singing and came looking for the source instead of passing me by – that was when I realized it was a wonderful way to lure you in. Your species have always been much too curious for your own good," The sun catches on the siren's teeth as he grins, highlighting the rows of fangs lining his mouth. 

You shudder, stomach turning at how easily he speaks of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people he must have murdered over the years.

"Many moons passed and I grew tired of playing with my food. I found a sea witch – awfully slippery creatures – that gave me part of her magic, making it possible for me to enthrall humans from a greater distance. She was of great help, quite tasty too." 

You can only stare at him in silence, lips pressed together tightly to hold back the acid burning at the back of your throat. 

"I believe you humans created a name for me – to ward off others from crossing my path," He cocks his head, expectant, as he sends you a side-ways look. 

"You're a siren," You whisper, pulling yourself back another inch.

"The one and only, pet," He purrs. "Though, I would prefer that you would utter my real name over something made up. Try saying Seokjin for me, little human." 

You'd rather force your shoulder back into its socket a hundred times before complying to a monster's wishes, but it isn't exactly a request you can refuse.

 So you grit your teeth, forcing out a stilted, "S-Seokjin." 

Disgust curls deep in your stomach as the siren's tail once again quivers back and forth, seemingly pleased with your acquiescence. 

You look across the lake at the unmoving mountain, mustering up the courage to ask the question that's been at the forefront of your mind ever since you woke up. "What happened to my crew?" You ask weakly, "Are any of them still alive?"

"No."

The answer comes easily, no hint of remorse or guilt in the siren's voice.

You can feel your nails ache and splinter against the rock as you scrape them across the surface, desperate for something to hold on to as you say, "Did you ... Did you eat them?" 

"Of course. Do you expect me to starve?" Seokjin replies impassively, "You humans hunt your food too, I've seen how you use those rope contraptions to gather up fish." 

You knew there was little chance of other survivors, but the confirmation still feels like a shock. Your vision swims, hot tears burning your eyes as unwelcome images of your crew – your captain – eaten by the very creature in front of you, flashes across your mind. 

"We don't hunt other humans! Nothing this close to our own species!" You cry, voice rising with anger as grief twists itself around your heart. Your crew might not have been much, but they were still the closest thing you had to a family – a home.

Seokjin looks unmoved by your outburst, bored almost, as he says, "Pet, this is how the ocean works. Do you lecture fish when they eat their smaller brethren? Species do not matter. It's either kill or die here." 

"Then why am I alive?" You ask, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat.

The siren seems to perk up your question, scales glistening as he straightens up against the rock. He finally turns his head to face to you fully, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. "See, little human, now you're finally asking the right thing. I find you fascinating – I haven't had a human pique my interest in many moons. I want to know how you managed to resist me for that long, why my thrall isn't as effective on you. What makes you so different from all the other humans that have jumped so willingly into my water?"

A foreboding sense of unease washes over you as Seokjin speaks, every muscle in your body tensing with fear. The siren wants to study you? The only way he can do that is to continue to use his thrall - his voice - and make you do things you do not want to do. He can force you to present your limbs for nibbling and you'll be none the wiser until it's too late. 

"I don't know," You shake your head, "I-I didn't even know you existed until last night!"

"How disappointing," Seokjin clicks, the flicker of emotion on his face once again melting away to nothing. "Well then, pet, as expected, it seems you will be staying here until my curiosity is sated."

"What?" You clamber to your knees, gripping them tightly to keep yourself from doing something as humiliating as bowing – begging – the awful creature in front of you for an ounce of humanity that he clearly does not have. 

"You can't do that, I can't stay here!" 

"Then jump in the water and see how long you last," Seokjin once again flicks his strong tail, the harsh smack sending a tremble down your spine. 

The siren's lips part into a something akin to a twisted smile, his blood speckled teeth making you sick as he hums, "Your thighs look delectable, little human, and I am quite prone to an early morning snack. So unless you want to watch as I eat you alive, you better stay put."

There's a minuscule quirk to his brows, a challenge, as he watches you absorb his words. Seokjin doesn't wait for you to give him an answer, your stunned silence more than enough for him. He doesn't spare you another glance as he pushes himself off the rock, effortlessly jumping back into the lake. It only takes a few seconds, a couple of strong flaps of his fin, before he disappears from view and his dark tail is nowhere to be seen.

You find yourself frozen to the spot, unable to move as you stare mindlessly at the spot Seokjin entered the water. The harsh ripples dancing over the surface is the only proof you have that you haven't lost your mind, that all of this is actually real. 

Pressing your hands to your face, you finally allow your body to break, to mourn, as you release pained sobs into your palms. Everything hurts. Your body, your mind, your heart. You have no idea how you're going to escape to the mountain on the other side, and even if you do, then what? The siren can just use his song to lure you back down. 

Seokjin has made the situation very clear. You can try to cross the lake and dive straight into your own grave, or you let him do what he wants. Either way – you fear it won't take long before the siren makes good on his promise.

You don't doubt it'll amuse him to make you watch as he tears you apart, piece by piece.

a/n: hello folks!! we are once again diving back into the TCS universe, only this time with seokjin as our lead mermaid! what do you think about him and his siren powers so far? this will likely only be a two part series, with more yandere behaviour and some smut in the final chapter, so if you enjoy the story so far please let me know! it’s really motivating to hear your thoughts and read your comments (and reblogs help a lot)!! 

the final chapter will likely be posted in july if there’s enough interest for it 🧜‍♀️

in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #mermaid au #mermaid seokjin #yandere mermaid #mermaid bts #seokjin x reader #yandere seokjin #yandere x reader #bts au #seokjin au #bts fanfic

[kairiscorner]

Omgg I saw a request for like ballerina reader and miggy and invites everyone to her show. Can’t really remember what they requested srry but that sounds cute. Like everyone gushing over her 🤭

it's okay !!! i did like that req too tbh, i was planning on making a separate one for the ballerina one, thanks for giving me motivation to make it rn >:DD

⋆⭒✮⭒⋆ like a graceful swan. — miguel o'hara x ballerina!reader

though you invited the whole spider society to watch your ballet recital, only one of them couldn't rip their eyes away from you, was glued to their seats, and constantly hitching their breath every time your pretty face looked so focused in dancing—your flexible arms curving with every movement of your fragile, yet fortified body. you tiptoed and moved your arms and legs in sync with the beat, with the harmonious melody of the gentle piano notes and dulcet rhythm coming from the violins, cellos, and basses playing the tranquil song numbers that prompted you to dance and entertain the audience with the story your body language and facial expressions were delivering in an angelic, pure, innocent manner.

some of the audience were already yawning, though many remained awake and in awe at your performance—enjoying how lovely and graceful your movements and how reactive you were to the right times, practically seeing the cues of the time signature change by listening intently to the orchestra playing. gwen was enthralled by the tenderness of your dancing, with her considering practicing her ballet once she'd have the time. pavitr was astounded by how flexible your arms and legs seemed, and how long you could hold yourself in the air; he'd ought to ask you for some tips and tricks on how to do that, maybe he will take up ballet himself for a change. jess and peter b enjoyed your performance, though the brunette father had to leave early due to his redheaded daughter fussing in the audience. he didn't want to ruin your evening, so he left; leaving the only two adults that were still watching being jess and... miguel, miguel o'hara.

he was the only one in the audience who gave his full, undivided attention to you and your dancing all throughout the performance. his hazel brown eyes were fixed on your dainty figure, moving so gently across the stage like the wind was carrying you by your invisible wings and practically making you seem like you were soaring while your pirouetted and twirled. with every pirouette and with every twirl, miguel felt himself get more and more hypnotized with your beautiful figure and effortlessly captivating aura as you spun and danced. he had never understood the meanings behind dance or any form of art such as ballet, but tonight, he thinks he's discovered what dancing evokes in him, what art such as this evokes in him: devotion, adoration, and need. he can't explain them all in ways anyone but him would understand in even the slightest, but the bottom line is... your dance moved him, made him feel things he's never felt before, and jess was the firsthand witness to this as she watched miguel's lips part and his eyes soften as they were directe dtowards you and you alone.

the other dancers disappeared into his fuzzy peripheral vision as he focused his gaze solely on you and the way you danced so perfectly; though you made some mistakes and nearly stumbled once or twice, miguel was so taken in by your performance that he forgot for a moment that he wasn't in a fairy tale, that you weren't an otherworldly beauty he could never have—you were real. you were here and before him, dancing your heart out passionately and the best you could; and that made him stand and clap, giving you a standing ovation that began with him, and ended with him as he looked at your gorgeous grin from up above in the audience's seats, with a heat forming in his face and a throbbing in his chest that made him palm his chest to try quelling it himself. "they were beautiful back there, weren't they?" jess asked miguel as he sighed, still watching you and your figure as you exited the stage all dainty and gracefully, not wanting you to leave his sight. "like you wouldn't believe..." he sighed as he felt his heart's beat returning to normal, but his thoughts still conjuring up the many images to form one thought: the thought of you, still and always fresh in his mind.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #atsv miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv fluff #atsv fanfiction #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff #spiderman across the spiderverse fanfiction

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

How would the first years sees a female yuu practice ballet in a empty classroom that supposed to be abandoned? How would their reaction would be?

If you guys haven’t seen the movie “Leap!” (also known as “Dance!”), I highly recommend watching it since it involves ballet and I really enjoyed watching it! Equestrian vaulting is also absolutely stunning to watch in action, which in a way looks like a mix of gymnastics and ballet. I’ve never done ballet before, but I once did equestrian vaulting when I went to horseback riding camp years ago. It was fun—if a little nerve-wracking doing it on the back of one of the largest horse breeds the stable owned. Good times though! Would attempt again! :D

Anyway, let’s see how the monster boys will react to this~! >v>

////------////

Grim was already aware of Yuu’s skill as a ballet dancer, having seen her dance whenever they clean the dorm. From using the tips of her toes to spin and swipe across the tiled floors to the jumps and leaps she made to reach high places without landing heavily, Grim would watch it in awe. More than once he has stopped whatever he’s doing to watch, especially when music is playing. The soft melodies and fluid movements would make him sway almost hypnotically in place, while the quick tempos and swift movements got his blood pumping as he bounced and tried to dance along—even if it wound up with him tripping up the first few times, but he learned! 

His favorite moments are the times when she would scoop him into her arms and dance with him, feeling as though he were lighter than air. Who needs a broom when he had Yuu? It was the best thing ever for the Great Grim’s human henchman to be so talented if he said so!

Of course, when it came to explaining Yuu’s ability to the other freshmen, words failed to convey just how impressive her dancing skills were and none of the others had ever seen her dance. None of the videos that Ace found online could match her grace or the flexibility she demonstrated--until he finally had enough and demanded they follow him: “I know where she likes to go practice during breaks!”

And so, thinking it was just another tall tale from the chimera, the other first years agreed to follow him for the time being and out of pure curiosity. When they drew closer to the unoccupied auditorium, however, they began to hear…music. “Shh…be quiet, or she’ll stop,” Grim warned them in a hushed whisper, turning to carefully nudge the door open wide enough for everyone to peer inside without exposing themselves.

Whatever quip Ace had in store died on his lips as he stared, watching as Yuu’s legs bent before she raised one high up in the air while balancing on the tip of her other leg, her arms stretched out in a graceful “L” shape. Somehow, she looked as still as a statue, making him wonder just how strong her legs were to be able to hold that pose. “Whoa…how is she even doing that?” he uttered in amazement, watching her smoothly transition into a slow sweeping twirl.

“Guys, if she’s dancing alone in a classroom, she may not want us to watch,” Deuce whispered, the centaur momentarily wincing when he saw her legs bend in ways he knew he could never pull off without injuring himself. Still, he couldn’t look away, his eyes watching intently as he eventually asked, “Can…humans really move like that?”

“Her movements are so fluid,” Jack commented, ears twitching as he found himself relaxing. There was something soothing about seeing her dance so gracefully, yet even from here he could see the power in her movements—restrained, yet clear as day with each step and twirl and bend and high kick. “Is this some form of martial arts from the human world?”

“Naw…it looks like tha’ ballet thin’ Vil—I mean…it looks like the ballet Vil has me and the other first years practice in the ball room,” Epel commented. As much as he hated being forced to do it…he found that it looked different watching Yuu perform. He knew he’d never be able to do half the movements she could with the way his legs were designed—but there was also a certain satisfaction in realizing that even Vil wouldn’t be able to mimic the same fluid grace or expect the same out of the others.

When a new song began to play, a gasp escaped Sebek before Jack and Epel covered his mouth. Though it was hard for them to not feel just as stunned the moment Yuu leapt atop the desks, spinning and jumping up from desk to desk in time to the rhythm until she reached the highest point. Her body moved with a grace and power that he’d never seen before, her expression—though calm—betraying the smile on her face as she continued her performance for the imaginary crowd. At one point she stopped, her back towards the door as she stood and shuffled backwards on the tips of her toes. Before he or the others could warn her how close she was to the edge of the desk—she leapt!

Time seemed to slow down, her body rising high in the air as—with her legs bent and curved—she spun in the air before straightening her legs out into an impossible split, soaring through the air. Then—as if lighter than a feather—she landed right in front of the podium at the very bottom and stood straight just as the music stopped, turning and bowing gracefully at the “audience”.

“Whoa!! That was amazing!” Deuce exclaimed.

Yuu gasped as she turned towards the doors, her face showing clear embarrassment and shock as she squeaked out, “Wha-? Deuce?!”

“Oops!” Deuce uttered, hands clamped over his mouth as he realized just how loud he’d actually been.

“Scramble!!” Ace yelled.

“Guys!!!” Yuu screeched as they bolted. “Get back here!!”

 /////------/////

Soon enough word spread around about Yuu’s dancing prowess, and it wasn’t long after that Cater and the others would come asking for a demonstration of this performance as well. After all, human dancing hasn’t been recorded in centuries—it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to observe (and record) such practices and seeing how humans could move! If Yuu has any knowledge on other forms of traditional dance, it would become a treasure trove of cultural knowledge to unlock and study the significance of the moves and the traditional garments worn by dancers!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland grim #twst grim #twst yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #fem!yuu #I could swear I posted this but found it in my drafts wtf 0.o #faun speaks

[clairesvalentine]

Could you do something with fem!reader and Syzoth where he walks into her playing an original song on the guitar?

The songs I’m imagining for this scenario is “Can’t Catch Me Now” by Olivia Rodrigo and “Lost in Silence” by Marcus Skeen…

SYZOTH AND MUSICIAN!READER

🦎 syzoth x fem!reader

PROMPT: syzoth walks in on the reader singing an original song.

I LOVEEEEE THIS SONG!! can’t catch me now was the reason i made the mileena one shot! anyways, i hope you enjoy this one and thank you for requesting again!! I also learned how to make the text a bit smaller so it fits my aesthetic. it's a good day fr 😹🙏🏼

— syzoth had been lurking around the kingdom's village for a while now. after the events that occurred, he was now appointed by mileena as her emissary to the zaterrans. he was honored yet overwhelmed. he wanted to do well for his kind. in their history of hardships, he wouldn't want them to endure any more pain than they already have.

— after being banned from the village for an extended period, he found joy in wandering aimlessly around the village. observing the citizens engage and witnessing their daily routines brought him a sense of comfort. his people were able to live amongst them and that meant the world to him.

— he spent most of his time in the tavern. he enjoyed seeing outworlders getting together to enjoy a drink or two. it bought him some comfort. besides, if he made it at a certain time, he was able to see the performers.

— while making his way to his usual table, he heard an unfamiliar melody. he was accustomed to hearing a plethora of songs, most of them folk tales sung by the people. he had never really encountered anything new—which wasn't a problem for him, but this caught his attention.

— you sat in the backroom, humming softly as you strung your guitar. you had been near and far from outworld, being back home was something so surreal to you. you had lived in this village all your life, adventuring around outworld was not an easy task. though your family had advised you not to, it was something you wanted to do. you sang in many different taverns, near and far yet you never got tired of traveling.

— however, this time you had to come home. your mother was very sick and she needed all of her children there. throughout the day, you would tend to your mother whilst taking care of your childhood home simultaneously. though you loved your mother and wanted her to get better, it was all so mentally draining to you. with the loss of your dad a few years prior, it made things so much harder.

— so, you and your siblings made a compromise. you and your brother would watch your mother during the day, while the others took over at night. this was perfect for you. this was your chance to try new material to the drunkards at the tavern.

— syzoth followed the melody, stopping by the door once he spotted you. you sat on a wooden chair, your music sheet on the stool beside you. he couldn't describe it but the melody you were playing was just something so fresh to him. one he had never heard before.

— "there's blood on the side of the mountain. there’s writing all over the wall. shadows of us are still dancin'. in every room and every hall." you closed your eyes as you sang, almost as if the melody ran right to your core.

— that's what syzoth found most captivating about the song. the way you were able to feel the music as you sang.

— trying not to startle you, syzoth equips his invisibility skill to quietly enter the room. he listened to you sing, admiring how much passion you had. he thoroughly enjoyed the lyrics being sung. he could tell you had so many compelling stories to tell, just from your writing alone.

— once you finished your song, syzoth couldn’t help but applaud. the song was absolutely stunning and your voice was so smooth. syzoth truly admired you. his invisibility wore off, unknowingly.

— you let out a scream, clutching your guitar close to your chest. you thought you were alone! you were supposed to be the only one back here! you swore this was some sort of attack.

— syzoth’s eyes widened once he realized you could see him. “i’m sorry! i did not mean to startle you! i was just—“

— “don’t hurt me! please! i’ll give you anything, just don’t hurt me!” you begged, holding your guitar tighter.

— “no no, you gave it all wrong. i overheard you playing and i wanted to watch you.” syzoth explained. you relaxed a bit, loosening the grip on your guitar.

— “so why were you invisible?” you questioned, still not completely trusting this stranger. you grabbed your song sheet from the stool you were using.

— “i did not want to startle you. you seemed at peace and i did not want to disturb you.” syzoth explained, having a seat on the stool. “this song you were singing, it’s one that hasn’t been sung here before.” he commented.

— you smiled lightly, leaning back in your seat. not a lot of people paid you any mind when it came to your new material. people just liked hearing the same old folk songs they heard before. no one was really interested in anything new.

— “it’s new. i wrote it amidst of the battle between realms.” you explained. “i wasn’t necessarily here when it happened but i felt it’s effects.” you shared. “i am glad you enjoyed my song though. the drunkards here don’t like anything new or fresh.” you half joked.

— you and syzoth spoke for a while, mostly about music. syzoth was just curious about what you did. did you only write music? was this your job? how did one create melodies as ear wormy as yours?

— syzoth listened to you, enthralled with everything you said. composing music was such a complicated yet interesting concept. he learned that wrote many songs that didn’t get played. some because the tavern wouldn’t let you play them, and others because you simply weren’t interested or confident in performing them.

— an idea popped into syzoth’s head. “you can perform for the empress!” he chirped. “empress mileena loves a good performance. perhaps you could sing your songs at one of her big events.” he suggested.

— though intrigued, you weren’t able to wrap your head around this. sing for the empress? that seemed too good of a deal. you weren’t so sure about this man’s offer, though he did seem genuine. he was the only one to actually listen to you as well…

— “sounds too good of a deal. how do i know this isn’t a scam? or a trick for that matter?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at the zaterran.

— “because i would never leave anyone astray unwillingly.” syzoth replied, gently taking your free hand in his.

— you looked down at your hands, a small blush crawling onto his cheeks. “when should i be ready?” you asked, an playful grin on your face.

— syzoth smiled. everyone was going to hear your music now. he was going to make sure of it.

#syzoth #syzoth x reader #mk reptile #syzoth x you #reptile x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat headcanons

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Of Memory and Brotherhood

Who likes angst with a side of Kaeya and Diluc reconciliation? Me! Who likes being an absolute bitch to her favorite characters? Also me. So have another fic that is pretty much just those two things.

Summary: Kaeya has a nightmare--no, an inherited memory of Khaenri'ah's fall. Diluc is there to help pick up the pieces

CW: Heavy angst, intense imagery, panic attacks, angst with a happy ending

Word count: 1490

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Kaeya walks through familiar-unfamiliar city streets. All around him are the tell tale signs of a civilization crumbling.

Soaring buildings, truly magnificent in construction, are torn down. Chunks of stone, pieces of metal warped beyond all recognition, are strewn across once smooth roads.

In between bits of rubble, there are bodies. Bodies of dark creatures, like the rift hounds that have recently begun to appear in Mondstadt, and bodies of people. Women, children, some crushed by the homes that once housed them, others mauled, sometimes beyond recognition.

It’s a familiar sight.

Once, it was a scene that frequently occupied his sleeping moments. His father--the first to leave him--had explained it as a generational memory, so that the last of their nation “would never forget how they fell.”

The elder Alberich had comforted his son, empathized. He too often saw Khaenri’ah fall. Such was their lot, he said.

Of course, then Kaeya was left behind and learned to suffer in silence. Granted, as a pre-teen, the dreams had a softer, blurry quality. Shelter for the innocent, he figures now.

Then he met Albedo, who had found a way to drive the dreams away.

Yet, now, he finds himself amidst his ancestor’s homeland, the memory now crystal clear.

Far in the distance he hears a child crying for her mother. Even further away, there are still sounds of combat. The soldiers of the nation do their duty, unwavering. Not unlike a certain red-head.

Yet, for all that he sees and all that he hears, he is a phantom in the world. Not long after appearing in this memory, he had tried to help a young woman who was bleeding on the street. She did not see him. She did not hear him. She was but a memory, one he was forced to see die alone.

Kaeya moves further into the center of the city, towards a golden palace and black tower that stands beside it.

Before he can reach it though, a sound like a hundred peals of thunder and the ringing of a gong, overlaid with the mournful melody of a lyre--a ringing requiem of power. 

Six--no seven--figure float above the city. One is a man, tall and stern. Another is a fair lady wreathed in violet lightning. And a third is a familiar face from his life in Mondstadt. Venti the Bard. Or perhaps he should say, Barbatos.

Kaeya pauses in the middle of the road and watches the divine figures. He watches as they pronounce judgment and shatter the city. As the city breaks and a nation cries out, backed by the pained song of the archon’s power, Kaeya is thrown back into his body.

Kaeya wakes and reaches for his vision.

He has to get out. Out, out, out. Away from Mondstadt City, away from the confinements of his room. 

He needs air. The wind. Somewhere else. Somewhere that could never be mistaken for the underground nation without a god.

Diluc stands underneath the great boughs of Vennessa’s Tree, taking a brief break from his patrol.

Despite the rumors of abyss mages in the area, he’s seen nothing so far. Not that that’s a bad thing, but vigilance never hurts.

At least under Vennessa’s tree, a place that is realistically holier than the Cathedral, there is safety. Safety and peace.

Or so he thought. A few minutes into his break a flash of white under the waning moon catches his eye.

Diluc takes a few steps towards the figure, squinting to make out more detail.

When he identifies the person his brows furrow. There’s no mistaking the tanned skin and dark hair or the scar crossing the man’s right eye.

Kaeya, of all people, is out in the middle of the night, shirtless and shoeless. If anything, it looks like he jumped out of bed, grabbed his vision and went for a run. Odd, because when Kaeya left the Angel’s Share earlier, he was most definitely inebriated.

It doesn’t take long for Kaeya to come close enough for Diluc to make out his expression. It’s one he’s never seen on the Cavalry Captain, not even in those painful days after his father’s death. The panic that has his breath coming in heaving gasps is contrasted by an eerie emptiness.

“Kaeya?” Diluc calls out softly.

Kaeya gives no sign of having heard him. Instead he trips on a rock, landing on his hands and knees. 

When he doesn’t get up, Diluc goes to kneel next to him. A glance at Kaeya’s feet reveals bloody soles. 

“Kaeya. Look at me.”

Once again Kaeya doesn’t register his voice.

“Kae.” Diluc’s voice is sharper, this time as his heart clenches in his chest.

He reaches out to touch Kaeya’s shoulder, only to be knocked backwards when his little brother latches on to him.

Diluc freezes. What do I do? Kaeya doesn't know it’s me. He can’t. He’s not in his right mind. What the hell happened to him? How do I help? Wait… why do I want to help? Archon’s wh--

The scarlet-haired man shakes his head and looks down at the man wrapping his arms around his waist, only to find Kaeya crying.

Archons what a mess.

Diluc gathers Kaeya into his arms and carries him to the tree, where he arranges them comfortably.

Kaeya continues to sob silently into his chest, limbs shaking with suppressed  emotion.

“Kae, I know you don’t like me all that much--and I really don’t like you--but you don’t have to hide from me. Let it out.”

Diluc’s assurances are all Kaeya needs to break. He can’t help but be glad that they’re at Windrise in the middle of the night, where no one can see the weakness in their Cavalry Captain.

After a while Kaeya’s tears stop and a semblance of self returns to his eyes, though none of the edge or the sass that is typical of him. Rather, it’s grief and horror that settles on his face.

“Kae, what happened?” Diluc asks when he’s more certain that he’ll be answered.

Of course, he isn’t.

Kaeya just pulls away and wraps his arms around his knees.

“Kaeya, you’re out here. I’m out here. Talk to me.”

“Why? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re a liar, but I don’t hate you. As much as I don’t like saying so sometimes, we’re still brothers. I’m trying to act like it for once, so let me damn it.

“I---” Kaeya pauses, giving Diluc a bewildered look. “I haven’t had Albedo make a new dose of the medication I use to prevent dreams. I tried to drink enough to prevent them but---”

“It didn’t work.”

“No.”

“Will you tell me about it? Sometimes, when I dream about Father’s death, talking to Adelinde helps.”

Kaeya’s eyes widen. Whether at the admission or the offer, Diluc isn’t quite certain.

“The remnants of Khaenri’ah are cursed to dream about the fall of the nation. I had them a lot when I was a kid. Not anymore, since I started taking Albedo’s concoction. But I ran out and the nightmare is clearer than ever. It was horrible, D. Watching the city be destroyed by monsters, hearing kids cry, watching the archons destroy it.”

Kaeya’s breath comes in short, shallow pants. Diluc reaches over to rub gentle circles into his brother’s back.

“Kae, breathe. It’s ok. You’re here, with me, not there. It’s just a nightmare. Not your memory. You’re Kaeya Alberich,” he tells Kaeya, using a similar litany to the one he’s used on his worst nights, when he comes perilously close to losing himself. “Spy, but also a Knight of Favonius and adopted son of Crepus Ragnvindr. You belong to Mondstadt as much as Khaenri’ah.”

“I’m Kaeya Alberich,” the younger man repeats. “Spy and Knight of Favonius. Crepus’s son. From Mondstadt and Khaenri’ah.”

The words seem to ground him, bringing him into the here and now.

“Better?”

“A little. Except now my feet hurt.”

“I wonder why? I’m taking you back to the Winery.”

Kaeya frowns. “Why?”

“Your feet are a mess. I want to go home. And I don’t think you want to explain to Jean why you can’t walk tomorrow. If you’re at the Winery, I can claim that you came over last night to raid my basement.”

“I don’t think she’d believe it.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Tell him the truth, a little voice in Diluc’s heart whispers. He’s family. He doesn’t deserve a bunch of excuses.

Fine. I’ll tell him.

“And I want to be there if you have any more nightmares. I think you’d do the same for me.”

“Heh. Probably. Sometimes I wonder why.”

“You know, I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

Diluc stows his claymore under the tree--to be retrieved when he doesn’t have a 6 foot sibling to carry--picks Kaeya up onto his back.

“Hey D--” Kaeya says, voice soft and sleepy.

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you.”

A soft smile tugs at Diluc’s lips. “Anytime, little brother.”

#I sooo adore ragbros reconciliation #and this is probably one of my best #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #ragbro reconciliation agenda #kaeya angst #nightmares #hurt/comfort #genshin impact #genshin angst #teyvat talk

[aldbooks]

A Strange Melody - Chapter 3

@sunshinebingo

Read on AO3

Gwyn came to lying in the plushest bed she’d ever encountered, a canopy of gauzy silver curtains surrounding her. She was still wrapped in the cloak Azriel had given her and took a moment to breathe in the warm, slightly spicy scent.

“Delicious isn’t it?”

Gasping, Gwyn bolted upright, scrambling towards the headboard. A woman sat at the foot of the bed that looked remarkably like the queen, her hair braided neatly around her head and piercing blue eyes watching her. 

“Sorry,” she said, sounding not at all sorry. “Didn’t mean to scare you. But he smells delicious doesn’t he?” she said, nodding at the cloak clutched in Gwyn’s hands. “Don’t tell Cassian, but I think Azriel’s scent is a lot sexier.”

“I- what?”

She smiled but the gesture was more sharp than comforting. “We all saw the way you looked at him. Not that I blame you. Many women have made bigger fools of themselves over that man. That was the first time though, that I’ve ever seen him so tied up around a woman.” Her head cocked in a cat-like motion. “Who are you?”

“Gwyneth Berdara,” she answered automatically. 

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve not heard that surname before. Where are you from?”

“Er-” Gwyn faltered, unsure how to answer. Had this woman ever met one of her kind before? They were often mistaken for syrens, just as Rhys had done when they’d first met. Would she be frightened? “The islands…”

The woman’s eyes narrowed further. “Hmm… I’m Nesta Archeron. The queen’s older sister.”

Gwyn blinked before bowing her head slightly. “Hello.”

Nesta bounced up from the bed, moving over to a heap of fabric draped over a chair Gwyn hadn’t noticed until now. “Rhysand said to find you some clothes so I brought a few things from my closet. And a few from Morrigan’s. She’s on the continent right now, she won’t mind. They should be about your size though my dresses may be a bit large in the bust…” She eyed Gwyn critically even as she still sat huddled under Azriel’s cloak.

“Though, to be honest, I didn’t get the best look at you before he covered you up.” She made a motion with her hand that clearly said she wished to have another look.

Hesitantly, Gwyn climbed out of the bed and reluctantly removed the cloak. Nesta’s gaze scrutinized her for a long moment before she nodded, removing a few items from the pile and tossing them over her shoulder. “Yes, Morrigan’s dresses will be better. I’d suggest starting with the blue one,” she said, indicating a bit of soft blue silk somewhere in the middle of the remaining pile. “I can find something for you to sleep in as well if you need it. Should I send up someone with a tray?”

“A tray?”

“Of food? Have you eaten?”

“Oh… um, no. I haven’t.”

Nesta nodded. “I’ll ring the kitchens,” she said before turning to leave. She paused at the door and looked back. “Do you read?”

“Yes?” They had books below the surface but she wasn’t sure if they had the sort she read here. “I like novels- er, mysteries.”

“No romance?”

Gwyn blushed. “Sometimes…”

Nesta smiled. “I’ll bring you a few.” Then she was gone. 

Snatching up the cloak once more, Gwyn wrapped it around herself and sat back on the bed as she awaited the promised food.

The next morning, Gwyn woke to a knock at the door, still curled in the cloak and watched as a pair of tall, dark skinned women entered and began busying themselves around the room. Sitting up, Gwyn watched them warily until one approached with a friendly smile and gestured for her to leave the bed and follow her. 

“Good morning, Miss Gwyneth. The King has invited you to join his table for breakfast. We’re here to help you dress.”

Slowly, Gwyn did as she was bade, clutching the cloak tightly around herself as she was led across the room to a door that opened in a hidden panel of the wall into an expansive bathing chamber. 

She only knew what these rooms were thanks to the tales she’d heard from the few brave souls who dared to venture onto land. Still, she resisted as the two women attempted to corral her towards a large basin filled with steaming water. Her bargain with Rhys had been for three days. She did not wish to return to water so soon. As soon as her tail returned, these women would know what she was and it would certainly make it back to the Spymaster. She wasn’t ready for him to know yet.

Panic kicked in and Gwyn tried to fight back as they wrestled her out of her borrowed cloak and into the tub with surprising strength. Gasping when she fell beneath the surface, Gwyn quickly resurfaced, sputtering and coughing. The water was hot, nearly scalding and- it wasn’t salty. To her surprise, she hadn’t been able to breathe it as easily as she did the ocean waters and, looking down, she could feel her feet brushing against the smooth stone of the basin. Not a tail. Legs.

Taking advantage of her shock, the women produced several bottles of aromatic potions and began scrubbing them into Gwyn’s skin and hair. She heard one of them comment about the rough texture of her hair that felt “like she’s been living in the ocean, with all that salt” which made Gwyn smile internally but she was more distracted by the foamy white bubbles that appeared on the surface of the water as the potions were rinsed from her body. 

Scooping up a handful she brought them to her face, inhaling the sweet, fragrant scent. Watching one of the bubbles pop, she blew on the tiny cloud and giggled as she watched the clumps of foam float back to the water. The two women exchanged amused glances as they carefully combed a thicker potion into her long hair until their fingers glided through the strands with ease before guiding her to dip her head beneath the surface to rinse it away.

When they were finished, they helped her stand and climb back out of the tub and began rubbing her down with a cloth. The friction made her skin itch, unused to being so dry outside of the waters. Noticing her scratching, one of the women produced another potion bottle that she began slathering over Gwyn’s skin from head to toe that soothed the dryness. The other woman twisted her hair into a loose plait and then she was stepping into the dress Nesta had laid out for her the night before.

The dusky blue fabric draped softly over her skin with sheer sleeves that extended to her wrists, a neckline that fell a few inches below her collarbone and flowing skirts that moved around her legs in a delightful way that made her twist her body side to side to watch them flare and settle. Soft slippers were placed on her feet and then she was being led to the door.

A shadow peeled away from the wall as they entered the hall and suddenly Azriel was standing before them. He nodded at the women on either side of Gwyn “Nuala, Cerridwen. Thank you. I will escort her from here.”

The women, Nuala and Cerridwen, dipped curtseys and disappeared, seeming to walk through the walls. At Gwyn’s open mouthed stare, Azriel chuckled. “They’re shadow wraiths,” he explained. “It makes it quite convenient for them to move around the palace.”

“But,” Gwyn shook her head. “They knocked on my door earlier.”

Azriel smiled. “They were being polite. Shall we?” He gestured down the hallway and she allowed him to lead her, trying to keep herself from staring at him now that he was so close to her. Luckily, he continued speaking to her, giving her a reasonable opportunity to study him further. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you.”

She watched his eyes move from the top of her still damp hair to her toes that peeked from beneath her skirts with every step, his gaze catching on the book in her hands that she had grabbed on her way out of the room. She had begun reading one of the books Nesta had sent to her last night until she’d fallen asleep and was eager to continue the romance about a pirate lord and the beautiful lady he’d stolen when raiding her village.

“You enjoy reading?”

Gwyn nodded, hugging the book to her middle. He smiled. “Well, Lady Nesta will be happy to have someone to discuss her romances with, I’m sure.”

Ah, Lady Nesta. She would have to be sure to learn every one’s titles lest she accidentally offend one of them. “Do you read, my lord,” she ventured.

Azriel made a sound that was half laugh, half sigh. “I do like to read, but these days all I seem to have time for is reading reports. But, I am no lord. Just Azriel.”

“Just Azriel?” she asked skeptically, sure there was nothing just about him. 

The slight tinge of red that appeared on his cheeks was utterly fascinating. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a man blush before. Wasn’t entirely sure they could. Presumably fighting whatever embarrassment he felt, he cleared his throat and met her eyes. “And- are you Lady Gwyneth, by chance?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “No. I too am just Gwyneth. Or Gwyn.”

He returned her smile with a secretive one of his own. “Just Gwyneth.”

Azriel couldn’t help but stare at the vision sitting across from him at the table. Gwyn was a conundrum. Ethereally beautiful with a depth of emotion in her captivating eyes that spoke of years of hard won wisdom and yet, she seemed to view everything around her with the whimsical naivety of a child. After he’d escorted her to the table and helped her into a seat beside Nesta, she’d seemed unsure of herself, glancing around the table for a long moment before carefully picking up her knife and fork and cutting into the food before her with stiff movements as though unused to the task. She delighted in everything she tasted from the smoked salmon to the fruit and eggs and even buttered toast, as though she’d never tasted them before. 

He studied her closely as she ate, attempting to reconcile the little information he’d been able to gather about her with the woman before him. According to Rhys, she’d been wandering aimlessly on the beach when he’d come across her, seeming to know little beyond her name. Yet Nesta said she’d told her she was from the islands, and was fond of reading. She appeared entirely unfamiliar with the simplest things yet was able to carry her part in the conversation around the table.

No one else seemed to be concerned about the strangeness of this woman. Rhys seemed downright delighted by every odd thing she did and the others rather graciously corrected her whenever she did something wrong. Like when she tried to bite into an orange with the peel still on it. Even his damned shadows seemed utterly smitten with her. Not a whiff of concern or anxiety where she was concerned.

He considered briefly that she might be a syren from the way she had so easily charmed his family and even, to an extent, himself. But, from what he knew of the syrens, they lived far out in the deeper waters of the oceans and never ventured onto land.

Still another part of him wondered if perhaps she’d been created just for him. The image of her standing wet and naked in the drawing room the night before flashed through his mind and yes- every inch of her seemed to have been crafted from his dreams from her softly freckled skin, to her ocean eyes, her tall, gently curved frame and the long dark hair that looked like ribbons of molten copper. Plumps lips and a smooth, melodic voice that made his blood heat when she said his name. She was an intriguing mixture of intelligence and curiosity that appealed to his baser nature and- best of all- she was entirely unafraid of him.

It was rare he met anyone who could look him in the eye without flinching, yet she stared back at him with a frankness he rarely encountered. Nor did she seem bothered by the scars on his hands when they touched her arm or back as he guided her about the palace. And his shadows, which were unaccountably interested in her, made her smile rather than cower.

He had no idea what to make of her.

“Do you like horses, Gwyneth?” His friend’s voice pulled Azriel from his musings. Glancing down the table at Rhys, he could see the king watching Gwyn with a curiously amused expression.

For her part, Gwyn looked thoroughly perplexed by the question. “Horses?” He watched her eyes momentarily glaze over in an expression he knew meant a daemati was communicating mind to mind with someone. He felt a strange surge of protectiveness towards Gwyn and a brief surge of anger at his friend for so freely invading her mind.

Gwyn blinked several times, her expression clearing. “Oh,” was all she said. Somehow, he knew whatever Rhys had shown or said to her was just as foreign as everything else seemed to be to her. Before she could say anything else, however, Rhys continued. 

“We happen to be stabling a pair of pegasus for a neighboring kingdom at the moment- flying horses,” he explained at Gwyn’s perplexed look. “Perhaps you’d care to see them?”

At this, Gwyn’s expression lit and once again Azriel found himself staring. “Flying horses?” she asked with a brilliant smile.

Rhys grinned at her. “Have you ever flown before, Gwyneth?” there was something knowing in the man’s face that poked at Azriel’s instincts. It was clear his friend knew far more about their mysterious guest than he was letting on. He just couldn’t figure out why he was being so damned secretive. 

Gwyn shook her head but by the way she leaned forward in her seat, her body practically vibrating he could tell the prospect excited her. Somehow, he knew exactly what his friend would say next.

“Perhaps Azriel will be generous enough to take you sometime during your stay. He does so enjoy flying.” Azriel narrowed his eyes at Rhys who merely winked at him. Was- was his friend playing matchmaker? With a woman they knew nothing about? Why?

In any case, Azriel found he had no objection to the idea. Quite the opposite. It seemed, no matter how much this woman perplexed him, he was drawn to her with an innate pull he couldn’t explain. Before he could fully consider the potential consequences, Azriel was nodding his agreement. 

The smile Gwyn turned on him then was so blinding, any lingering doubts vanished.

#gwynriel

[yuyu1024]

Chance

Pairings: San × y/n x Hongjoong

Genre/tags: confession, secret relationship

Warning: cursing, pet names, fluff, flirting, [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.6k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: nothing 🔞. Respot. Check pinned post for more

*******

Ever since you've been hanging out with Hongjoong more than a year ago, you started to form relationships with all his member. They were all so welcoming and friendly with you that all of them became dear friend of yours. You even hang out with them when Hongjoong is busy with work and no tike to meet you. Then though the thing between you and Hongjoong ended, you still keep in touch and hang out with them.

You're still happy that even though the thing between You and Hongjoong was very vague at least you gained amazing people in your life. However, you cannot hide the fact that even after a few months, it still hurts. Because for you, he is special and you thought the 'relationship' you had was real. For you the hugs and kisses you shared when you visited him in his studio is magical. For you the 'I miss you' and the 'I can't wait to see you' meant more than it actually meant. For you, Hongjoong needed and wanted you. For you, the lyrics he wrote about love is about you. Coz' saw him wrote it all while you were on his lap after a make out session.

You thought, everything between you is serious. Not until a few months ago, the last time you visited him in his studio. He looked serious and very concerned. The second you sat down on the sofa behind his workstation, the first thing he told you was 'Sorry' and that he cannot do this anymore. That career is more important for him at the moment that he cannot commit with you and distract himself.

'Commit'

You laugh at the word. Because who were you kidding? In the first place, when you two started to hold hands and meet each other behind everybody's back, he already told you that commitment is out of the picture. That the thing between you is not going to last.

And yes, it ended just like that. Even you two just had a dry humping session the night prior the "break up" in his studio while he plays the melody he made just by thinking about you. Funny right?

Now months later in present time here you are, in their company where his studio is. Not to meet him but to celebrate them winning in an award show three straight times and then wrapping up their latest comeback.

If this happened months ago, you'd probably be standing beside him or behind him, waiting for him to tale your hand and include you in everything. That's how it was. A simple attention to you was everything. But now, you are just standing in the corner of the room watching them all go all out screaming, singing and cheering. You just stand there looking at Hongjoong, looking at every one except you.

It fucking hurts. But you need to smile and stop thinking about it. This is not about you. This party is for them.

You then feel sweet caress of your cheek and see San standing by your side. "Why are you standing here alone in the corner?" He asks, smiling.

"I just find it more comfy here..."

San notices the hint of sadness in your eyes. "Y/n... do you want to leave?"

"Huh? Where would I go?"

"Anywhere... not here... not here where you can see him."

You're head whirls to face him, "Sannie... you knew?"

He sighs, "Sadly... I do. You two never mentioned it so I assume it was nothing... but I know... he does stay in his studio to make music... but it got to often than usual when he introduced you two us... as a friend."

You look away, embarassed and felt exposed. "You must think that... I'm such an easy girl..."

"No, I don't."

"Thanks for trying not too... but... If you do... it's okay... I am though..." you are on the verge of crying. "I was just a side thing for him... nothing serious..."

"I said, I don't." He says again. This time his voice is low and stern.

You look back at him and see him looking at you with warm eyes. "Thank you..." you say softly

****

The party got more loud and all over the place. Wooyoung and Jongho got a bit competitive in playing games and doesn't even bother letting their teammates Yeosang and Mingi play. They are now just standing there cheering and everything while the rest of the staff are busy eating and relaxing behind them. Though the some of the managers are yelling as well coz it's an intense battle game.

The other members are just watching except San. Who is busy being by your side, hiding in plain sight.

"Why don't you join them?" You ask

"I want to stay with you."

"Why though? I'm boring... you should play with them..."

He pouts, "Why do you always ask me to go away?"

"Ahm...It's not like that..."

"Then what?" He looks at you with curious eyes. "Is it because hyung can see us talking?"

"No, of course not." You frown.

"Then what...?"

"I don't know... Maybe I'm just... I don't fucking know..." you sigh

"We can go upstairs..." San says, "it's quiet. The dance studio is there... we can listen to music and dance... you dance right?"

"I don't..."

"Then I'll teach you basic..." San takes your hand carefully and leads you out of the party.

Both of you arrive at the famous dance studio where their dance practices gets filmed.

He opens the lights and reveals the all white room and mirrors. Then he goes straight to the computer at the corner to turn it on.

"What music you want to hear?"

"Anything you like... but if you're serious about teaching me to dance... maybe something slower?"

He smiles, showing his cute dimples. "Okay!"

While he's busy searching for a song to teach you. You on the other hand walks straight in the middle of the room after closing the door. You look straight into your reflection and begin to analyze how awful you look today.

Messy hair in a bun, a fitted black cropped top shirt and a black highwaist cargo pants paired with black boots too.  Outfit looks nice yes, but your aura is so dark and down. You used to be excited when coming here but now...

The sudden music startles you. San then comes close, slides his hand to yours to make them intertwine and then tug you close to him. "Maybe... let this one go...?" He pulls off the ribbon from your bun, letting your long hair unravel. "So pretty..." he mumbles looking at you, all smile.

You begin to follow him move. You have no idea what type of dance you are even doing but you are so captivated by how he makes you dance and do it while smiling. He's such a sweet soul and a nice person. He is very endearing like what Hongjoong decribes him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks as he make you twirl and fall in his arm. "Do I look handsome?"

You snort a laugh, "Of course you are..."

He puts his hand behind your back and spins you until your back feels the wall. "Handsome enough for you to take a chance with me?"

Stunned. You look at San and try to process what he just said "S-sannie..."

He lets go of you, takes a few steps back and smile. "Shall we change the music to something upbeat?"

You question yourself if you heard him right. If what you heard was just nothing, that it meant nothing and your just taken aback and overthinking it. You swear he looked serious saying it but that can't be right. Right? Why would San say that? Why would he like you?

After he thought you a few basic dances, you said no and quit. Your body is not meant for dancing. You are very awkward and no flexibility. So, you just sat down on the floor, legs stretched out and watch him do his thing.

"Your lines are so beautiful, Sannie!" You say clapping.

Catching his breathe he falls down the floor and roll over until he reaches you. "Thank you... I've been practicing this routine for a week now..." then he places his head on your lap. "Yunho and I are planning to do it for tiktok..."

"That's cool... that would be cool and for sure fans will like it."

"Yeah... Yunho did so well making the choreo."

"And you did well, executing it. For sure he's happy that you're doing it with him."

"Yeah... he is..." he then closes his eyes and you could feel the tense in his body relaxes. "Y/n...?"

"Hmm...?"

He gets up and adjust his position to face you, "Are you feeling a lot better now?"

He's sweating but still glowing and looking so good.

"I am... thank you..." you smile and then proceeds to pinching his cheek. "You made me feel better."

He actually did. It was just for a short period of time but it made you clear your mind. He made you stop making yourself be horrible and dark. And finally after a few months, you've finally laughed genuinely. His jokes and his silly moves whilst he was dancing earlier made you really laugh.

"Aha! You guys are here!"

Both you and San snap your heads to look at the door. It's Wooyoung.

"Yah! We've been calling you... what are you two even doing?" He enters the room, holding a ice americano in one hand and paper bag on the other. "Why are you two sweating?"

"Who?" Yeosang appears from behind, peaking at the door.

"Sannie thought me how to dance." You answer as you push yourself up to stand. "And now I know, I don't have the talent to do it..."

"Noona, don't worry! You just need more practice if you really want to learn..." Woo says, "anyways, we're gonna go now... we have a schedule for tomorrow."

"Oh, okay... bye! See you again whenever." You say to the two.

"Bye noona!" Yeosang waves and follows Wooyoung to leave.

"How about you...?" You ask San, "Are you not leaving yet?"

"Are you asking me to leave again?" He pouts

You laugh, "Silly you... of course not... It's just... maybe your dormmates wants to go home and your ride..."

"I can always take a cab home. I want to stay with you longer."

Hearing him say those words make you smile. You suddenly felt important and wanted. But weirdly enough this is different from how you felt with Hongjoong.

With Hongjoong, its always with such rush. He does not have a lot of time so you adjust your time for him. And when he needs you, you gave in. If he wants to make out, you do it. If he needs a cuddle, you give it. If he needs someone to sleep with on his couch in his studio, you are there. It may sound bad like its all about sensual things, no its still more than that. And Hongjoong is not a bad person. It's just that, what you had with him is not established.

Then with San, it feels warm when your with him. You know you haven't had that much alone time with him like this but when you do hang out even with the other member, San is always there taking care of you in his simple ways. He's always present and attentive to you. He's a sweet, kind and a gentleman. You may not always express your appreciation to him but you do, appreciate him. He is a good friend. A good person.

"Y/n..."

"Hmm...?"

"Can we--"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Hongjoong suddenly enters the dance practice room startling the both of you.

"Hyung..." San says

"Seonghwa and Mingi is waiting for you..." Hongjoong says to San before glancing at you. "Let them know if you'll going with them or not."

"Okay. I'll call them."

"Okay." Hongjoong finally looks straight at you. "Do you want us to give you a ride...?" He asks

You pause for a few seconds trying to absorb this. It's been so long since he directly spoke to you. It feels weird and awkward.

"She's staying with me hyung..." San answers for you then takes your hand to squeeze it. "I'll take care of her..."

"Ah, really... okay..." hongjoong sounds so nonchalant like he's trying so hard not to care. "It started to rain so..." he glances at you again then your hands with San. "Be careful going home..."

"We will." San answers

You exhale very loudly the moment Hongjoong closes the door and left. You've held your breathe without realizing it.

"Crap..." you mumble as you stumble and then carries on to holding on to San's body for support. Meaning, you are hugging him.

"You still are affected by Hongjoong hyung..." he says

You shake your head and tighten your embrace. "I don't want to anymore... I need to move on..."

His hands then snakes around your body and hugs you bag. "Does this make you feel better? Hugging?"

Nuzzling your face on his chest and taking in his scent. "A little...? I miss hugging someone... I miss... the feeling of..."

"That bring me back to what I was about to ask you..."

You lift your chin up to look at him, "What is it?"

"Can we try?"

You blink multiple times, "Try what...?"

"can we try to hang out... go out... date... fling... or be super close... or whatever you want to call it."

"W-wait... what?" You move back. "Sannie... are you... are you trying to fuck me?"

"What?"

"I know you might think I'm easy... but..."

"No! Not that... I don't think of you that way... please no..." he looks worried that he cannot convey what he wanted to say. "I meant... I want you to try to date me... but I'm not sure what you wanted... so I gave you options... whatever you want... I just..." he pauses for a bit before continuing, "I like you y/n... I've liked you for quite a while. However, you are with hyung and I didn't want to interfere with your relationship with him because I can see how you look at him... I know you love him... but now... I want to take a chance and risk it."

"Why... me...?"

"What do you mean why you?"

"Sannie... you know I've dated your member... and probably fucked him and all..."

"So? It's not my business who you loved or liked before me... all that matters to me... is you and me. Our present and our future. If you agree on taking a chance with me."

"But... what if... I can't give you what you deserve coz' San... I'm still not 100% okay..."

"I'm okay with it. Whatever you can give me, I'll accept it. I will give you everything I can with no regrets until you can love me back the way you can. And if you can't... I'm okay to... just..  let me be with you and I'll be your crying shoulder and still be your friend..."

You are getting emotional and shock on what San is willing to have and do for your attention, for you.

"If you need someone to be your rebound... just to heal... pick me... chose me... I'll accept even just that..." he adds

"I will... think about it...If its alright with you?"

"No worries... I understand."

San caresses your cheek wtih his knuckles. "No rush..."

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez #ateez san #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez au #atz scenarios #ateez x female reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x fem reader #fem reader #fanfic #ateez thoughts

[chibi-celesti]

Interlude 02-Book 01: Dia Rosa Rudje-Ar Prasrity Fowrlle

Ar Prasrity Fowrlle Gfine anw Revatail

(A moment of Peace)

Synopsis: On the eve of the Unbirthday Party, Meryu tries to bide her time to calm her soul and worries over what may happen next. What she didn’t know was that someone else was watching her from the shadows.

A special interlude dedicated to a moment between two people who don’t know each other yet, but one day will soon.

~Twisted Tonelico~

Shortly after returning to Ramshackle, Meryu and the boys settled down for the evening. While Ace and Deuce passed out on the sofa, Meryu was still awake; opting to spend time outside to calm her frayed nerves. 

The evening was cool, calm even. Meryu still couldn’t believe this is what the land beneath felt like. She remembered her guardian Shurelia telling her tales of what their world used to be like back in Platina. Those were things she could only imagine in her dreams back then. But now, seeing it and feeling the caress of the wind on her body was therapeutic. And real.

But then there's tomorrow…

Tomorrow will be my first Unbirthday Party here. And my first formal event without Lady Shurelia to guide me… she thought to herself. I wonder how she would react to me being in an all boy's academy? A smile appeared on her face. She'd probably have a panic attack and tear Mr. Crowley a new one.

She laughed to herself at the image. A fiery, livid Shurelia shouting at the magnanimous Head Mage, and two seconds away from ‘Ka-Boom'-ing the man to bits.

As Meryu continued to think about her guardian and only true family, she started to whisper a little tune to herself.

(~Lyrnya grrena anw bale,

Bautifal ciel burle~)

She swayed with the wind, whispers turning into humming to herself without a care, not minding if a soul were to see her and mock her for her naivete.

(~Was yea ra chanti fowrlle en hartes grlanza fhyu~)

(~Hyma en chs fedyya bexm, iasien sol dea houd frawr chiess herr~)

The longer she swayed with the wind, the more it enticed her to dance with it; the more she danced with the wind, the more her humming became singing.

~Mea eux na idesy sor, den~

~Was yea ra vit yora riura won manafaln dor~

(~Was yea ra vit waath oz hartes dor.~)

She sang of beautiful days, warm and hopeful tomorrow's. Not just for herself but for the world. It was something she always did.

~Mea oriye na idesy sor, dea~

~Was yea erra reen yora hynne tek manafaln ciela, an mean.~

(~Was yea erra reen dilete oz hartes ciela~)

Her little soliloquy was a performance that enamored the trees, the wind, and a few critters that traversed the campus. All either accompanied her in her song or swayed to the melodious waves of each lyric.

Her performance even caught the attention of someone who hid in the shadows. They have never met this young woman before, but it felt as though they have. Something about her voice sounded familiar to them, but they couldn't quite put their finger on it.

Curious yet mesmerized by Meryu's dance and voice, they felt like they were placed under a spell, but they did not fear. In fact, they loved it. A sudden sense of Déjà vu sent shivers throughout their body.

The shadowy figure couldn't help but hum along with the young woman's song. A part of them longing to reach out and dance with her like the wind is. But their feet were rooted to the spot; they couldn't move at all, afraid of disturbing her performance and scaring her off.

And just as she was at the precipice of her song, someone else's voice cut through and disturbed the peace. The stranger quickly hid themselves further into the shadows at the same time.

“Minion, it's late! We can't miss the Unbirthday Party, remember?”

Meryu halted in her steps, turning to the culprit that called her name, annoyed she was disturbed. “I'll be there in a moment, Grim!” Once Grim was back in the Dorm, she sighed in lament. He's right, I need to get some rest… She starts walking back to the front entrance, giving the stars one last glance before walking in the building.  I hope you're ok, Lady Shurelia.  I miss you so much…

In her ascension to the door, Meryu had sung to herself one more time.

~Wee yea ra hymme yanje revm,

Sol ammue zaarn, wi innna near burle.~

~Wee yea ra hymme yanje revm,

Yor irs, wi dor yeal folten…~

She closed the door, ignoring the silent tears falling down her face.

‘So this dorm is now inhabited?’ The stranger thought. They felt disappointed that their favorite place on campus is no longer vacant. They inwardly sighed. ‘Looks like I will have to find another place for myself.’

In a blink of an eye, they vanished  with not a single trace of their presence left behind, except for a glimmer of glowing green lights.

And the echoes of the Reyvateil’s lullaby from their lips.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ar tonelico #twst x ar tonelico au #twisted tonelico #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #malleyuu #malleus draconia x yuu #twst malleus #twst malleus x oc

[pearlsoflongago]

Quest

Tales From Elsewhere

La Parque et l’ange de la Mort/The Park and the Angel of Death by Gustave Moreau

Eldorado

Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old— This knight so bold— And o’er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength Failed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow— ‘Shadow,’ said he, ‘Where can it be— This land of Eldorado?’

‘Over the Mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride,’ The shade replied, ‘If you seek for Eldorado!’

—Edgar Allen Poe

La Palme by Odilon Redon

Elaine

Oh, come again to Astolat! I will not ask you to be kind. And you may go when you will go, And I will stay behind.

I will not say how dear you are, Or ask you if you hold me dear, Or trouble you with things for you The way I did last year.

So still the orchard, Lancelot, So very still the lake shall be, You could not guess—though you should guess— What is become of me.

So wide shall be the garden-walk, The garden-seat so very wide, You needs must think—if you should think— The lily maid had died.

Save that, a little way away, I’d watch you for a little while, To see you speak, the way you speak, And smile,—if you should smile.

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Boat in the Moonlight by Odilon Redon

Merlin and the Gleam                

   I.    O YOUNG Mariner,    You from the haven    Under the sea-cliff,    You that are watching    The grey Magician    With eyes of wonder,    I am Merlin,    And I am dying,    I am Merlin    Who follow The Gleam.                   II.    Mighty the Wizard    Who found me at sunrise    Sleeping, and woke me    And learn'd me Magic!    Great the Master,    And sweet the Magic,    When over the valley,    In early summers,    Over the mountain,    On human faces,    And all around me,    Moving to melody,    Floated The Gleam.                   III.    Once at the croak of a Raven who crost it,    A barbarous people,    Blind to the magic,    And deaf to the melody,    Snarl'd at and cursed me.    A demon vext me,    The light retreated,    The landskip darken'd,    The melody deaden'd,    The Master whisper'd    "Follow The Gleam."                   IV.    Then to the melody,    Over a wilderness    Gliding, and glancing at    Elf of the woodland,    Gnome of the cavern,    Griffin and Giant,    And dancing of Fairies    In desolate hollows,    And wraiths of the mountain,    And rolling of dragons    By warble of water,    Or cataract music    Of falling torrents,    Flitted The Gleam.                   V.    Down from the mountain    And over the level,    And streaming and shining on    Silent river,    Silvery willow,    Pasture and plowland,    Horses and oxen,    Innocent maidens,    Garrulous children,    Homestead and harvest,    Reaper and gleaner,    And rough-ruddy faces    Of lowly labour,    Slided The Gleam.—                   VI.    Then, with a melody    Stronger and statelier,    Led me at length    To the city and palace    Of Arthur the king;    Touch'd at the golden    Cross of the churches,    Flash'd on the Tournament,    Flicker'd and bicker'd    From helmet to helmet,    And last on the forehead    Of Arthur the blameless    Rested The Gleam.                   VII.    Clouds and darkness    Closed upon Camelot;    Arthur had vanish'd    I knew not whither,    The king who loved me,    And cannot die;    For out of the darkness    Silent and slowly    The Gleam, that had waned to a wintry glimmer    On icy fallow    And faded forest,    Drew to the valley    Named of the shadow,    And slowly brightening    Out of the glimmer,    And slowly moving again to a melody    Yearningly tender,    Fell on the shadow,    No longer a shadow,    But clothed with The Gleam.                   VIII.    And broader and brighter    The Gleam flying onward,    Wed to the melody,    Sang thro' the world;    And slower and fainter,    Old and weary,    But eager to follow,    I saw, whenever    In passing it glanced upon    Hamlet or city,    That under the Crosses    The dead man's garden,    The mortal hillock,    Would break into blossom;    And so to the land's    Last limit I came—    And can no longer,    But die rejoicing,    For thro' the Magic    Of Him the Mighty,    Who taught me in childhood,    There on the border    Of boundless Ocean,    And all but in Heaven    Hovers The Gleam.                   IX.    Not of the sunlight,    Not of the moonlight,    Not of the starlight!    O young Mariner,    Down to the haven,    Call your companions,    Launch your vessel,    And crowd your canvas,    And, ere it vanishes    Over the margin,    After it, follow it,    Follow The Gleam.

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson, from Demeter and Other Poems

The Muses Leaving Their Father Apollo to Go Out & Light the World by Gustave Moreau

#poetry #literature #light academia #dark academia #classic #books & libraries #edgar allan poe #edna st. vincent millay #alfred lord tennyson #gustave moreau #odilon redon

[rourkeoriain]

Xmas Party

Working for the Alliance had its perks, Rourke thought as he watched the pianist’s slender fingers tap out a melody on ivory keys. The highball in his hand wasn’t one of them and he tried not to frown into his glass at the lackluster American whiskey in his hand. Nothing made him more homesick than bad booze.

“Nothing Scottish?” The tender shook his head from across the sleek bar top, completely unbothered by his lackluster selection. “Not even Irish? You cannot tell me this is the best whiskey you’ve got.”

“Wilderness Trail. That’s our top shelf for tonight,” the barman replied. “Or would you rather have a water?”

Old instincts pulled at the O’Riain and he had half a mind to pull the man by his collar across the bar top just to prove a point, but Skye would have him castrated if he’d done anything to jeopardize the ideal position all her father’s maneuverings had done to get him there. The cold truth was simply that he wasn’t anywhere near home anymore.

Unusual hushed commotion stole his attention to one of the large lounge room’s closest entrances. It wasn’t the flowing, silken red dress or even the deep cut plunge of a neckline that nearly stopped his heart as much as the one wearing it. In truth, he’d half expected Kate to show up in a lab coat, if she’d decided to show at all. And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

“Your finest red, then,” Rourke sighed to the bartender, still unable to take his eyes off of Kate as the hospital’s greasy director crowded in. “The best you have and if it’s American, I’m not tipping.”

Trying to squash the murderous swell of irrational rage at the sight of Dr. Reichenberger’s small, sweaty palms gliding over Kate’s bared forearms, Rourke watched the discomfort and distress flash across her perfectly delicate features. She regretted the dress and the thought nearly made his heart shatter.

They weren’t super close, though not for lack of wanting, but just about anything could have been better than being pawed at by the completely revolting so called chief of staff. Rourke tucked himself into Kate’s side with a warm, gentle hand at the small of her back and a glass of Spanish red extended.

“You looked like you needed a drink.” He flashed a smile, bright and genuine, happy to be a distraction. “And I wanted to pick your brain about a mutual patient, if that’s alright.”

Kate stammered. Her gorgeous eyes flicked back and forth between the two men before her slim fingers brushed Rourke’s to take the wine glass. “Thank you, Dr. O’Riain.” She let him lead her away with that same gentle, warm hand at her back. “Of course, we can.”

-

Whether it was the wine or his embarrassingly intimate tales of family follies, Rourke couldn’t much care what the cause of the pink flush across Kate’s cheeks or the way her eyes wrinkled at the corners as she threw her head back to laugh was. He’d never seen her so loose. So free. So unburdened. He never wanted it to end.

The scent of her was intoxicating and he wasn’t imagining the way she leaned into him too. At one point she’d rested her head against his shoulder to watch the pianist finish his shift and finally, after a very long night of formalities, slip away.

“Katie girl,” he said, feeling emboldened in a way he hoped he wouldn’t come to regret. “I want to show you the balconies.”

-

It was different when they were alone. He was certain the attraction wasn’t one sided and he reached to brush a lock of dark hair from her eyes when she looked at their feet, cheeks flush, as he complimented her dress for the hundredth time.

“I think of you,” he admitted quietly, shamelessly stroking a thumb over the back of her small, soft hands. She’d let him hold them without hesitation or remorse and it only served to embolden his urge to get closer. “Every day. The way you are with the patients. How much you care about them. Want what’s best for them.” He paused, reaching out to tip her chin back up because her stunning eyes didn’t belong on the floor. “You’re a wonder, do you know that? Katie. I’m so grateful to be closer.”

He liked to think it was neither irony nor lust that made him pull her closer, shamelessly holding her lithe body against his firm form. He wondered if she could feel the length of him, already hard and pulsing, tucked down the length of one of his thighs behind the sleek black suit’s trousers.

“It’s not the dress, I promise. Though,” he paused, letting his greedy gaze rake up her form as he pulled her even closer. “The dress is magnificent. But I’ve wanted you since I was on orientation.”

[bigfrozensix]

When it comes to The Little Mermaid II, it isn't one of my favorite sequels, but something I remember kinda disliking about certain parts of the fandom was pitting Melody against Ariel and people saying that Melody was "better" than Ariel because she didn't had a love interest, saved the day and "didn't left her family for a man", there was a sector who believed that Melody's motivations were stronger than Ariel's because apparently "Ariel had no problems" while Melody was bullied by her peers. I mean, both their motivations were valid? Ariel didn't feel like she was part of the sea: she had to hide her interests from her own family, her only friend in the sea was Flounder (even if we take in account the TV series, notice that all the characters Ariel tended to befriend were outcasts, if anything the popular girl tried to take advantage of her) and as we have say plenty of times, Ariel wished to be human way before she saw Eric and her catalyst to see Ursula was Triton destroying her grotto. This trend of pitting female characters against each other to prove which one is better is something I always have hated. Besides, you can't compare a 12 year old child with a 16 year old teenager: obviously Melody couldn't leave home as Ariel did, because Melody is still a child who is growing up, while Ariel's story was one of coming of age, of leaving her home to start a new life - and in fairytale logic, 16 was the equivalent of 18 back then.

(And let's not start that unlike Ariel, Melody wasn't stuck in the deep of a whirpool with a giant Morgana trying to kill her with a trident. The circumstances are very important to consider of why Ariel couldn't kill Ursula herself. Just saying)

Sorry for the late reply, I needed a moment to mentally recharge after my vacation in London.

Ah yes, the age old tale of pitting female characters against each other with the always misogynistic "a female character without a love interes is automatically stronger" argument.

How people can say that with their full chest without realizing they're literally saying "a woman's worth is tied to her relationship status" is absolutely beyond me. Gotta love those faux feminists that think the only way to praise women is by kicking down the "wrong" ones.

I honestly didn't really grow up with the TLM series (Disney shows aired all over the place here until we finally got Disney Channel in 2009), but I finally watched it in full on Disney+ and it's definitely really good at expanding on the world building and Ariel's life before becoming human.

It shows how though Ariel has a good relationship with her father, it's always the human world that wedges a rift between them. A rift that only seems to be getting bigger the more Ariel's interest in the human world grows.

We even see Ariel started her grotto in the first place, because she already knows bringing her human treasures back home results in Triton destroying them. She even admits to being scared to come home when she got stuck to a human item... and if that's not a red flag, I don't know what is.

As someone who grew up with a dad who's a lot like Triton (caring, well-meaning, but having anger issuess) I feel Ariel's reactions to Triton's anger SO MUCH. Loving your father but also being scared of him is a very complicated emotion.

I'm not sure where I was going with this... I just have a lot to say when it comes defending Ariel from faux feminists who don't understand her character.

#the little mermaid #the little mermaid 2 #tlm #tlm2 #princess ariel #princess melody #ariel #melody #disney #faux feminism #anon #ask

[journey-to-the-attic]

ALRIGHT IDEA

SO YOU KNOW HOW MADOKA MADE THE ULITMATE WISH TO SAVE MAGICAL GIRLS AND BECAME THE GOD OF SALVATION???

LETS DO IT WITH IK

Madoka made her wish at 14, same age as IK, so I decided to make IK 15, meaning she has been the God of Salvation for a year.

gonna a bit a bit of a word throw up right here soooo lez do this.

~~~~~

Magic courses through his veins, finding the thin veil between their realms, and gently pulling it apart, just enough to create a portal between the human realm and devildom.

Diavolo had long since mastered creating portals between the realms. He was after all, the Crown Prince to the Devildom throne. It was his responsibility to watch over this realm, one of the many duties of the throne.

That is why he started this exchange program, to connect a bond between all three realms, in hopes that one day they will all be able to live in peace with one another. Solomon didn't need to be teleported, as he is the most powerful sorcerer in the world. However, this human didn't have any magic to do so, therefore he needed to make a portal for the human himself.

Ah Lucifer, he can always recognize that tired voice of his.

"Ah ha ha ha! Lucifer, no need to worry, even I have no need of help to make a portal to the human realm. It's quite easy after the first century or two. Ah, there we go!"

Finally establishing a stable connection, his magic dives into the portal, searching for the human. Usually, it would take about 30, maybe 40 seconds to find a target, but it seems to be taking a bit longer then usual. After a minute of two, a voice from behind him speaks up.

"Lord Diavolo, are you sure you are in no need of assistance?"

Ah Lucifer, he can always recognize that tired voice of his.

"Ah ha ha ha! Lucifer, no need to worry, even I have no need of help to find the exchange student. It's simply taking a bit longer than usual. It isn't entirely uncommon though, is it? Ah, there we go!"

Diavolo quickly envelops the human in his own magic, before pulling back and through the portal. He opens his arms open, getting ready to welcome the exchange student before he senses something... unknown from the human.

But it's too late. The human exchange student has already passed, through the portal. All he is able to do is pause in his movement before-

The universe shifts.

An unknown pressure enters the room,

the universe folds into itself,

time seems to speed up yet slow down at the same time.

He vaguely takes note of a what sounds like falling chairs. It seems the brothers can sense it as well. Lucifer looks around the room, trying to identify the unknown pressure. "Lord Diavolo! What is the meaning of this?!" Lucifer looks at him, eyes filled with caution and tension. Diavolo can't bring himself to respond.

An unknown melody begins to play,

Telling a tale of old and new,

Unknown yet known,

The demon brothers, as well as himself, are frozen. They can't bring themselves to move. No, it feels like something is asking them not to move. And for some reason, their bodies are complying. What is going on?

and then,

It finally stops.

The room is silent, to the point where a pin drop could be heard. The aura is still there, but no longer as pressuring. Now, it's more of a blankets, but still powerful and confusing nonetheless.

"Uhm, excuse me?"

In front of him is no longer an empty space. Instead, it is occupied by a young girl. And yet her aura speaks, saying that she is far from normal, despite her looks. And speaking of which...

She is not wearing any normal clothes that a human would wear.

Instead she wears a long, flowing white dress, touching down to the floor. A white cloak with red flowers dotted on it is draped over her, covering the top of her torso. Almost everything she's wearing is a pure shade of white. White frilly gloves, white ballet shoes, the white ribbon tied around her neck.

Long brown hair flows down her back, with two white ribbons tied on either side of her hair. Large, honey gold eyes look at him with curiosity and confusion. Her aura, her clothing, everything about her speaks that of a Divine Being. Far from a demon, and yet something more than a Celestial Angel.

"U-uhm," a gentle voice escapes from her, and oddly enough, he find himself relaxing, despite her random appearance. She continues to speak.

"I'm sorry, i-if my, um aura and appearance caught you off guard, I don't mean any harm I swear! I covered it up so you won't feel much of my aura, but uhm," she fiddles with the hem of her cloak. "can you see me? L-like actually hear and see me?"

Her voice sounds desperate, with her furrowed brow and balled hands. As if praying for him to say a certain answer. Diavolo and the brothers continue to stare at her, bewildered.

Only then when Diavolo finally clears his throat does he reply.

"Yes...?" A little hesitant from someone of royal demonic blood, but the girl doesn't seem to care about his tone.

Her gloved hands come up to cover her mouth as small tears filled her eyes. The girl lets out something akin to a sigh of relief before running up to him with a wide smile on her face. Her long hair and dress follow her, seemingly floating in the air. If he looks closer, its almost as if there entire galaxies underneath her snow white dress.

He approaches the crown prince, before her small hands come to grasp his own. Her touch is gentle, soft and warm, comforting even. Her hands are so much smaller than his own, he notices.

"You can see me! You can actually see me!" Her voice is filled with so much joy and happiness, like a soft warm blanket on a freezing winter night. Diavolo can't help but catch some of the radiant joy and let a small smile slip.

"Of course, why shouldn't I be able to see you?"

"I'm shocked! I thought I would never be able to talk to anybody ever again, let alone touch someone!"

Pausing in her actions, her honey golden eyes widening. She suddenly pulls away from his hands, her sunny warmth feeling gone from his hands. (Her hands were so small, it was almost funny.)

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for doing that out of the blue! I haven't talked to somebody in at least a year! I haven't even introduced myself yet."

She takes a few steps back, placing her gloved hands in front her. Taking a deep breath, she lets a warm smile take over her face, eyes softening into something soft.

"My name is IK, The Goddess of Salvation and the Fate of all Magical girls. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

What.

~~~~~ I didn't know how to fit in Homura or IK being brought into Devildom despite being a universal god,,, SO LETS IGNORE IT.

Madoka made her wish at 14, same age as IK, so I decided to make IK 15, meaning she has been the God of Salvation for a year.

(Not talking to anybody for an entire year, only able to watch as their everyday lives go by. Your existence is forgotten by them. They will never be able to see you again, instead left to drift amongst the cosmos, with the stars as your only companion. What a sad existence. But do you regret your actions? Absolutely not.)

As for why she's stuttering, she hasn't spoke to anybody properly in about a year. Maybe a bit of telepathy? Still, not speaking to anybody is gonna do some stuff to your voice. (No she is not pulling a Wattpad Y/N)

I decided to give IK a godly sort of aura, since I have a bit of an idea with the Purgatrio, especially Solomon. She sort of wraps it up and shoves is in her magic closet, if you get what I mean. She also puts away her god outfit and swaps it out for her disguise, which is her standard Jtta outfit! Sorta like Madoka and her Mitakihara uniform disguise.

I might give Barbatos a role here as well, since IK is essentially going through every timeline and universe and plucking the magical girls outta them. Its bound to catch his attention.

Alright thats enough for today. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeee

barbatos has been feeling weird little pulses in time lately, little ripples that by all accounts should not be there, but when he tries to look closer the gaps in time have been mended so seamlessly that he can't tell what has happened at all. then ik appears in the devildom and he gets hit with a faceful of pure time magic and is like [cat grab meme] "YOU"

i imagine that, since her godly powers kind of transcend time, ik has like, zero perception of how long it is anymore. she'll go "be back in a minute" and disappear for an entire week, but also on her second day she greets everyone like "it's been so long since i've seen you, you haven't changed a bit!!"

she's probably a little bewildered that diavolo managed to extract her from her godly plane of existence, but she's also SO relieved to be able to do normal human things again, like walk and talk and eat and play and oh no diavolo don't cry it's totally fine, i signed up for this on my own

#answering asks #sunlightocean #puella magi ik #with these types of aus there's also always something to do with solomon too #he's like 'how the FUCK did i not notice all of this happening????' #also i imagine levi is kind of in a crisis about the implications #all those cute magical girl anime he's watched..... is this what was happening behind the scenes?!?!!

[d-lissa]

Liveblogging TMA - Season 1 - MAG 7-8

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin, If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, Bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,– My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

Dolce et Decorum est, Wilfred Owen

THE PIPER :

... Jesus fucking Christ, this one gave me shivers.

And also a new poet who's writing I went on to read just after finishing the episode, as the quote just above shows. There were definitely some that were more fitted for the episode, but I needed something that could be short and still feel self contained (so no snippet from "Strange Meeting", unfortunately, nor of "Insensibility",) but also impactful on its own.

And impactful, it is. Yes, I understand why this poem is Owen's most famous.

I have a soft spot for poetry, as you may or may have not noticed. I am certainly no expert in the subject, and even less of a writer, but the melody speaks to me.

Still, I have to wonder what the reception of the public was at this episode. I wasn't quite expecting TMA to introduce real life people in the story, or to touch on war and the effects it had on its people. I found the topic handdled delicately enough (tho an eyebrow does quirk a little at the implications of some of this), but I am obviously no veteran, nor do I wish to ever entertain the idea of becoming a soldier, as the earlier snippet may have informed you.

I don't really fancy putting my life on the line, only to be thrown away by my country afterward, if there even is any, thank you very much.

I do posses however a certain admiration for people who did, and so one Sgt. Clarence Berry was probably the first, of the many narrators introduced thus far, to which I have felt emotionally attached to. And, by proxy, to Wilfred Owen.

He has painted such a stark vision of war, one that I could almost feel, despite the minimal amount of details on the situation itself.

The narration of the text only amplified the effect, with Jonathan's voice resonating, as usual with a sombre timbre that felt quite fitting to the tone of the story. Should being the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute not work out, he should look for work in the audio book industry. I am sure that he would make a killing there.

The Piper was a delight from start to finish. Not much of a mystery here, as much as the personification of war in all its gory glory, though I do wonder about the music the souls soon to be reaped heard before their final moment.

Still, if War is a thing, does that mean there are multiple concepts taken form as well ? Of course, the four of the apocalypse, obviously, but maybe more primal fears too ? Did they always exist and influenced humanity as we know it, or did they take form from humans' beliefs and terror ? What came first, and what impacted the other the most ?

If that is the case, then I have to say that I am quite thrilled at the possibilities of it all.

Onto our favourite sulky Head Archivist, the man is sulking again about the lack of order in the archive. I have to say, the contrast between the harrowing tale he was reading and his pettiness and disatisfaction toward his predecessor made my head spin for a bit. Just another way to show how good of a narrator he is, I almost forgot that he was the one talking, as well as why he was.

I am curious as to whom this Joseph Rayner will be. Since Wilfred Owen, in the story at least, spent 2 weeks in the guts of the man, but also with The Piper, I can only think that the two are connected.

With all of that out of the way, Wilfred Owen's end was quite the beautiful one. Sergeant Berry ponders on what luck is, and who of the two of them had more to spare, but between one haunted by his past, and the other not having any future to look forward to, the question quickly shifts to which one I find the most heartbreaking.

In the end, Clarence Berry built himself a futre despite the scars of his past, but will live to survive even more, while Wilfred Owen made his mark into the world before disappearing off of it for good. And he did it after having accomplished his goal, to a being higher than himself that he believed in and for his country.

Yes, I am sure the Wilfred Owen of this story was satisfied, not living his last instants for himself.

After all, just think of how sweet and fitting it is, to die for one's country.

BURNED OUT :

"I retrieved what turned out to be a a small wooden box, about six inches square, with an intricate pattern carved along the outside. Engraved lines covered it, warping and weaving together, making it hard to look away."

... Mh ?

Well, doesn't this sound familiar.

I must say, I started the whole fixation on the table from "Across The Street" thinking it wouldn't lead to anything, but somehow, they are very eager to make me think about it. There was a hole in that table, was there not ? Square shaped.

Still, somehow I don't think this was what was missing. There sure weren't spiders the first time around anyway, were there ?

TMA is on a streak right now, this episode hit me as much as the mast, tho in very different ways. The mystery presentd here is so complex, I genuinely cannot wait to get the Priest's statement and get the side of the story of someone who will, probably, be more understanding of the events and oddities of that night, and of this house in general.

Agnes has very much gotten my attention anyway. I somehow doubt this will be the last we hear of her or of her "father". They sound too much like trouble not to come back, and we still have a case of a disappearing child connected to them. I could see him appear, surprisingly ? As a character or as a statement.

Truth be told, if this continues I will have to make a list of all the names presented. I fear of forgetting context and stories and characters of relevance. I feel like I am reading a new wuxia level, I am not good with names, damn it.

For example, the narrator of this story. Obviously his father was involved with something ghastly, and I am thinking that his uncle was too, tho they have both been brushed aside as crazy. I somehow doubt that schyzophrenia really was a factor here. Patterns, fractals, and probably something to do with the leitner that made bones appear out of nowhere, if this guy wasn't aware of the Keays, maybe even against them, then I will eat my gloves. I am expecting to hear about them again, in anoher statement, but I have already fogotten the name of the man who did this statement.

But anyway, I guess the so called spiders have made an apparition. Crawling out of a rotten apple that has spent probably decades buried in a box, under a bleeding tree.

Now, I am someone very curious, but that is one form of knowledge I wouldn't mind not possessing. Ignorance is bliss, as many statements would confirm, and though I am of the type to contradict that saying, the kind of enlightenment given by this apple surely would not be good for me.

Awareness has been a theme all throughout. Living things that don't make sense and knowing that they do not, and suffering for it. Forces that try to keep you from learning the truth and eliminate you when you do. Should this garden be Eden and this apple the forbidden fruit giving you knowledge beyond your understanding, would this make of the spiders God or the Devil ?

Is there even a difference ?

OVERALL :

The deeper I get in this story, the more confused I am. It is a pretty nice feeling, knowing that I will get answers if I just keep going.

Those two statements have definitely been my favourite of the bunch, I tell you that, and I am more and more curious about who Jonathan Sims really is.

Again, he presents himself as a skeptic, scoffing at the idea that those statements could be real, and not deeming them so because there's SOME stuff of value, he guesses, but he still does work for an institute that research the supernatural.

Something I find fascinating is the way he presents the statements, you always hear his voice shift just a little, and he acts the words so well too. He is reading this, he is feeling the emotions the people who did these statements felt, but is denying ever being affected.

I can't help myself reading too much into it, and wondering how much of his life is affected by this tendency to deny feeling things.

Something that has me curious is the sound design. The context has been that he is journaling the statements in audio form through cassettes, at least the ones that can't get into a computer, but then, where does the sounds come from ? I understand that they may not actually exist, but I cannot imagine that they don't have a reason to exist in universe.

Until we get an idea, I will simply think that the horrors are giving us some entertainment, that they love the archivist's storytelling just as much as I do, so they decide to give it a little ambience to make it even better.

That, or Martin added a soundtrack post-production, when Jon isn't there. I haven't met him yet, but he sounds like the kind of guy that would do this. Him or that Tim guy.

Can't wait to meet them for good, with Sasha and Ellias. It would also be nice to find statements by Gertrude, or something, I wonder about the kind of person she was.

I am curious about the people working in this institute.

All of them.

And of the kind of corpses that must be buried under it. Somehow, I don't think they would be skeletons.

#tma #the magnus archive #liveblogging #tma-liveblog #i should find a closing statement #like a catch phrase or something #mh

[theboarsbride]

Ooooh, hit me with any and all sweet and sappy Tathareth/Grima thoughts you have right now! I YEARN for more romantic headcanons with these two! Thank you!!

!!!!!!! YESSSSSSS AUUUUUGH YES YES YES ALWAYS HAPPY TO PROVIDE!!!!!!🥺🥺🥺🥺😳😳😳 THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!

Just random late night Grima/Tathareth thoughts hhhhhsbdghxhcjckakkaa-

Tathareth sings, Grima tells stories.

Tathareth doesn't feel confident in her singing at all and it isn't the best (by elven standards), which is why she reserves doing so for whenever she's alone.

Grima is all enchanted and selfish, wanting to hear her sing despite her shyness (and he likes to lurk and watch her afar so he can watch her sing without her knowing he's there, and therefore affecting her performance). He likes how gentle and wispy (and, to him, ethereal) elven music is compared to the more blunt melodies Rohirric music, and he just likes the sound of Tathareth's voice. 🥺

in return Tathareth likes hearing Grima tell stories, or just hearing him describe the world beyond Lothlorien. In a way, he does bewitch her mind, ensnaring it with the stories and tales he weaves with his words.

In the beginning, Grima'a stories start off as very bitter and cynical and hateful, reflecting his view of the world around him. He is bitter and hates all that has hated him in return, and he doesn't hold back from telling Tathareth this--much to her disappointment.

But once he realizes that Tathareth is genuinely cares about what he has to say, that she's curious and sheltered despite her immortality, and that what he describes to her means a lot to her, he GRADUALLY starts telling more positive stories.

Over time, he starts describing places like Rohan, its culture and people and landscape, and telling legends and myths from his culture with increasing hints of whimsy, for Tathareth's amusement.

In a similar vain, Tathareth will sing to him tales from elven culture--especially love ballads

Tathareth loves hearing about Rohan, lowkey, though she knows the culture and the landscape just... aren't for her? She'd never want to visit because Grima describes how Rohan actually has seasons, and gets cold, and hardly has any trees. 👊😔 but there is a lot of open space for her to observe stars and the night sky......but she still likes the shelter of forests.

Tathareth also likes leaving little braids and flowers in Grima's hair (especially Elanor flowers... because against his dark hair it gives the illusion of a starry night sky🥺)

She also encourages him to wear more greys and silvers and blues because she thinks it brings out the blue in his eyes😭😭

She just wants him to feel pretty for once in his life ok??????😭😭🥺🥺

Also festivals!!

They're both extremely introverted, with festivals not really being their thing. So if they ever attend one, they remain at the very edge of crowds, keeping to themselves. Grima provides snarky comments regarding the elves and his discomfort being a human amongst them, Tathareth is just quiet and enjoying his commentary.

If they dance, it's in private

Because Tathareth needs to take a moment to teach Grima more elven styles of dancing

Which already is awkward for Grima because he isn't graceful

And Tathareth is considerably taller than him

So any attempts at dancing result in Grima pouting and embarassed, and Tathareth amused.😭

...also when spooning, Tathereth is the big spoon

Because she realizes that it makes Grima feel protected and grounded whenever he startles from nightmares

And he finds her natural scent of lilacs to be comforting 😭

...also Grima is like a cat and will being Tathareth random gifts and trinkets, consisting mainly of whatever creepy crawlies or snakes or strange weed he comes across in Lothlorien's gardens.

Fortunately, Tathareth likes snakes 🥺

She likes snakes a lot

"My mother always told me that serpents truly aren't so terrible once you take the time to know one."

OK this is just a small handful on headcanons!! I've a few more I'd love to share but I dont wanna inadvertently spoil parts I have plotted for Serpentine Whispers!!!

BUT THANKS FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE ABOUT THESE TWO I CARE THEMB SO MANY😭😭😭😭😭😭

#serpentine whispers #lotr oc #grima wormtongue #jojo rambles

[xasha777]

In the bustling tavern of a distant planet, where the golden hues of twin suns filtered through rustic windows, Lila worked as a waitress, her gentle smile a constant despite the diverse and often rough crowd. Her hair, tied back with twine, cascaded down her shoulders, and her outfit, though simple—a deep blue shirt beneath a brown vest—was impeccably neat.

Unbeknownst to the patrons and her fellow townsfolk, Lila harbored a secret: she was a Chemotroph, a rare being capable of deriving energy from chemical reactions native to her hidden celestial origins. This unique ability allowed her to sense and manipulate the subtle chemical energies around her, an invaluable skill on a frontier planet where technology and magic intertwined.

One evening, as Lila served the frothy house ale, a cloaked figure entered, his presence nearly a whisper against the clamor of the tavern. He seated himself in a dim corner, his eyes tracking Lila’s movements with an intensity that suggested recognition. Lila felt a stir within her, a chemical signal pulsing like a beacon.

Approaching the stranger, she sensed his identity before he spoke—a fellow Chemotroph, and like her, far from home. “I need your help,” he whispered, his voice laced with urgency. “Our people are in peril. A force, dark and consuming, seeks to harness the Chemotrophs' energy, threatening to drain our planet’s life force.”

Lila's mind raced. Her life on this planet was a carefully constructed facade, one she maintained to avoid the bounty hunters and energy zealots who sought the powerful essence of her kind. Yet, here was a call she could not ignore.

Together, they devised a plan. Using their abilities, they would create a chemical shield, a potent but invisible barrier using the ambient energies of the tavern's bustling life—a concoction of spilled spirits, the heat of sizzling meals, and the collective effervescence of spirited tales. This shield would cloak their planet's energy signature, making it undetectable to the malevolent forces at bay.

As the plan unfolded, the tavern became the unlikely command center for a battle of cosmic stakes. Lila and the stranger worked through the night, their hands moving through the air as if conducting an orchestra, weaving layers of chemical reactions into a vibrant, protective tapestry.

Dawn broke across the twin suns, casting a new light on the old wooden tables and worn flagstones of the tavern. The patrons, oblivious to the night’s silent battle, carried on, their laughter and chatter a melody to the morning.

Lila, standing by the window, watched the light play on her hands, now still and calm. She had protected her people, her new home, and perhaps, had found a new ally in the quiet stranger who now shared her secret. Together, they looked out at the horizon, where chemistry and courage had woven a new dawn.