#mist: i… i don’t know how to play chess

[murfpersonalblog]

"I wonder if Lestat ever considered taking his 'I don’t care about humanity' & human rules far enough to choose not to attend the racist opera house with Louis playing his valet & instead strolling in there together. Same thing with the bus. Would he have rather had his family sit upfront with him? Why did he decide to sit in the back of the theater with Louis & Claudia? Is it because it was dark? Why did he conform to the human societal rules even though he knew Louis found it humiliating?"

-- @mytwistedexperience

I really liked this comment posted here, and wanted to reply to it directly, but figured my inevitably long-winded response would work better in a separate post. Cuz the short/long answer is White Privilege.

I've ranted a few times about Lestat's toxic positivity and color-blindness--

--cuz Lestat grossly underestimated how effective systemic racism was, and overestimated his power as one (1) single French White vampire in the face of the American superstructure/superpower.

Lestat could use the Spell Gift to freeze time & cheat at cards & win piles of money; read minds to seduce/control people; use the Cloud Gift & superspeed to travel; use telekinesis to close the gates on the priest he killed in Ep1 & open the door for Antoinette in Ep7; use the Fire Gift in Ep1 screwing with the street-lighter dude; use the Mind Gift to command a whole platoon of soldiers (which gave him a literal aneurysm). But he's not omnipotent. The problem with AR vampires is that they are very PHYSICAL--although undead, they aren't spirits/ghosts or shapeshifting creatures like AR's Azriel/Lasher/Amel/Goblin/Gremt--or even Dracula--who can move in and out of physical material. AR vamps can't become mist or turn into wolves/bats or any of the OP powers Dracula has (and even he was defeated by a ragtag bunch of humans). AR's vamps are still subject to the laws & forces of earth--the world--and by extension, SOCIETY.

People have accused black!Louis of being "arrogant," but I strongly disagree--Louis was proud. Lestat, however, was wildly arrogant, looking down on "this primitive country"/human society as something beneath him; that vampirism was something that superseded everything in existence; thinking he was akin to God and that he could make everyone bend to his will--including Louis.

"I wonder if Lestat ever considered taking his 'I don’t care about humanity' & human rules far enough to choose not to attend the racist opera house with Louis playing his valet & instead strolling in there together."

Eff no. Lestat dragged Louis to the opera cuz LESTAT wanted to go to the opera. He went on & on about Don Pasquale--DELIBERATELY talking over visibly distraught Louis; bulldozing over his feelings to force Louis out of his funk, while Louis was looking like WTF--

Lestat was like come hell or high water--i.e.: Louis almost eating his nephew, or racists at the door not wanting black!Louis to go in--we are GOING to the opera tonight so help me god! 😤 Granted, YES, the date had been planned in good faith--"I've been neglectful of our romance;" and YES, we know Louis LOVES opera--but it was also classic lovebomber!Lestat behavior, to thrust things at Louis & expect him to take it and smile; inconsiderate AF; or rather, considerate only so far as considering how effective his chess moves & manipulations would be.

However, Lestat's self aware enough (even in his white privilege) to know his limits: we see him use the Mind Gift on the soldiers in Ep3, WAY less people than everyone in the Opera House (or even the pub w/ the police chief & Tom in Ep5). Les wasn't strong/skilled enough in his powers in Ep2 (1912-17) to make everyone NOT notice black!Lou walking/sitting beside him. There'd've been a riot--those white folk would've acted a fool & thrown BOTH of them out b4 the opera even started, defeating the point of their date.

"Why did he conform to the human societal rules even though he knew Louis found it humiliating?"

Les felt it more important to see some stupid opera (which turned out to be TRASH cuz of the Tenor, LOL), than to have white people respect his black husband (a la "IF disrespect was done to you..." in the same episode 😒); or to bother finding something they could enjoy TOGETHER, w/out Lou being dehumanized in the process. But that's the whole point of vampirism: It's a dehumanizing process, "companion in the Dark Gift, finally." Lestat wanted Louis to stop acting like a human & start acting like a vampire--a white man, a god/monster, etc. And Lestat's PETTY AF, enough to be like: Ok Louis, if you insist on us both participating in this charade, then suffer the consequences of playing nice w/ people who hate you; take my effing gloves & walk 3 paces behind me, valet! Lestat KNEW it hurt Louis to be treated that way. Slap his face and kiss it after:

See the little micro-expressions on Samstat's face, when he double-takes? He sits in blissful white privilege, b4 remembering: Oh right! My black husband's just been mistreated by white society AND ME; lemme butter him up by making it all about ME again, trauma-dumping a whole monologue on how lonely I've been on him. 🥺

Works every time. 😉👍

Lestat, an idiot, thought all black!Louis needed to do was act like Lestat a white man, and all his problems would be solved. By embracing his vampire powers, he could go & do what he wanted. But we see in Ep3 precisely what would've happened if Louis decided to REALLY be Lestat's "companion in the Dark Gift, finally." Killing the racist Alderman was just one domino in a string of factors that sparked the race riots, but Louis blamed himself anyways, quick to shoulder the guilt for things beyond his control, and LEFT Lestat.

Louis wants to be a "good" Negro, not rock the boat (even if inside Pyromaniac du Lac's boiling mad). Lou'd rather have racists learn to respect him & treat him equally, not go kill all of them, ruling over a pile of corpses. He's not the type to insist on walking side-by-side w/ Les into the Opera House, or sit beside him on the bus. Lou's passive/submissive, he's not an activist. When he "acts out," as Armand called it, it just leads to chaos--riots, the "Great Conversion/flying vampire apocalypse," the Theatre burned down. Lou's a hermit crab in his shell--he shuts down, hides away, full of regret & "self-loathing." He can't be devil-may-care Les & eff-the-police Claudia; that's NOT the type of person he is, or who Les wanted him to be--eff that sword-cane; every time Lou used it he was MISERABLE!

Bull-frikkin-sh!te. 😠

Lestat's selfish, arrogant, cocksure, and toxic AF. And Louis was unequipped to handle him (cuz they're UNEQUAL), loving Les despite all his faults, to the point of LITERAL self-destruction. Rolin & Sam have said many times that Les had yet to be HUMBLED. The world/reality only hit him in Ep7 that the very things he underestimated would be his undoing--Claudia got the jump on him back in Ep6's chess game, and offed him through poisoning Tom (another person Les didn't expect to hurt him). (We'd see this over & over again in the books, as Les got his arse handed to him by people he'd looked down on, from Armand in TVL, to some rando old AF human Raglan James in TotBT, to Rhoshamandes in the PL Trilogy.)

Most importantly, Louis has significant power over Lestat, too. The crazy part's that Les SAW Lou coming inEp7--he KNEW Lou was a garbage liar & was plotting w/ Claudia; he's too obvious--and STILL underestimated Lou. He LET Louis get away with crap, cuz he thought it was harmless, or just not worth confronting Louis about--biding his time & waiting. That's what Les had done for YEARS, with everything from Louis' vegetarianism, to running the Azalea's sinking ship, to sitting at the back of the bus.

"Same thing with the bus. Would he have rather had his family sit upfront with him? Why did he decide to sit in the back of the theater with Louis & Claudia? Is it because it was dark?"

Eff that bus. Lestat would've rather have had Louis (& Claudia) strong enough to use THE CLOUD GIFT. Buses are for weak AF humans who can't take to the air like strong vampires can, and FLY.

Les said in TVL that he held back with Louis, and kept from showing him even half of what vampires could REALLY do--which is why Louis was STUNNED to see the Theatre & Armand & Santiago (a vampire YOUNGER than Louis!) in action.

Poor baby bird had no idea. Cuz Louis had been trying so hard & so long to be human, not vampire--he'd stunted his own growth, which is why both Lestat & Claudia looked at him like he was crazy. "A fish that doesn't swim; a bird that doesn't fly. You're going to STRUGGLE." And the scary fact was that Lestat would struggle, too, pretending to be human and not a monster to accommodate Louis: "I'm trying to restrain myself!" 💀

#lestat de lioncourt #interview with the vampire #loustat #white privilege #racism #racial inequality

[after-witch]

smiling man servant scenario

Just a lil’ smiling man servant scenario that’s been in my drafts since last April or so.

notes: possessiveness, reader does not nice things

What if reader becomes a servant to the smiling man? 

It’s a very common requirement of his deals, after all, if not a basic end-game for every deal he makes. 

In this case, there’s a little twist. He has no need of you on the other side of the mist... not yet, anyway. He needs someone with a little more power on the sunshine side of the world.

Someone who can do more than be his eyes and ears. Someone who can do his bidding more fully.

And you are the unfortunate target of this particular need, when you fall on your hands and knees and beg someone, anyone to give you want you want.

He shows up, generous thing that he is, and lays out the terms.

You’ll get what you want. And in return, you’ll do his bidding here. 

“For how long?” You ask. 

He smiles. “Until I have no more use for you in this world.”

You don’t know what he means by “this world,” but you’re so desperate, so blinded by your greatest wish being within your grasp that you don’t care.

You agree. 

And oh, you silly thing, you silly, mortal thing, you have no idea what you’ve done to yourself. 

It starts small. Which is a mercy, you’ll come to realize later. Dispose of this and that, objects he has no need of, things he wants removed. 

But eventually... you’ll be given different orders.

You’ll help him capture people, who will be whisked on to the other side of the mist or turned into scarecrows or anything else that suits his needs.

You’ll refuse, the first time. You can’t do that! It’s awful, it’s horrifying, it’s terrible.

At your refusal, he’ll shrug amicably enough. “If you can’t fulfill the terms of our deal, then I’ll rescind my half, and take away what I gave you.”

And... you stop arguing. You can’t. You can’t lose what he gave you. Not after all this. 

So you do it. Your stomach hurts and you cry afterwards. But you do it. You trap some innocent person--but your mind justifies it, maybe they weren’t innocent, maybe they were awful--and you watch as they are turned into a scarecrow right in front of you.

“The first time is the most distressing,” the smiling man tells you, as you weep. You can’t decide if he’s trying to be reassuring, mocking, or both.

The first time is not the most distressing. That comes later, years later, when it’s not just adults that you’re helping him take but children. He doesn’t care who it is. If he wants them, he gets them. If he gets them, he keeps them.

And you? You’re the one who helps him do it. 

As the years go on, your relationship gets a little more comfortable. He likes to make jokes. Awful ones, mean ones, but jokes all the same. Sometimes they’re funny enough that you laugh.

Sometimes he sticks around or follows you while you set about fulfilling his orders. You asked him why, once. He merely shrugged and said it was amusing enough to watch you.

He scares you, and yet he doesn’t. It’s easy to forget who he is and what he is, when he’s sitting with you on the balcony of your current apartment, helping himself to a cream soda, remarking on the lovely job you’ve done with the plants this year. 

Sometimes you play chess together. You’re terrible at it, which seems to both amuse and annoy him. He promises to teach you sometime. You shrug it off, but, find yourself taking his tips now and then. 

The smiling man isn’t around all the time, though. It might be months, a year, even years between visits. Sometimes you get just comfortable enough to settle down and then he walks back into your life and you set about with whatever order he gives you.

Most of the time, you can accept your half-life, and indulge in it when you can. You enjoy the fruits of your deal. It would be horrible to not enjoy it, wouldn’t it? To do all these awful things, and not even take pleasure in what you traded it for? 

But then... something changes. It’s been a while since he came. A few years, give or take. And your life has settled into a smooth rhythm. 

More than that... you fall in love with someone. 

You try not to, at first, because you know... well, you know that you’re the servant of some otherworldly entity and that’s not exactly conducive to a long-lasting relationship, is it? 

But this person is different. Special. They make you feel whole, and you haven’t felt whole or genuinely happy in a long time. 

There’s always that “but” in your happiness. You’re enjoying a walk in the park, but maybe the smiling man might walk around the corner, scaring you (he loves that) before giving you a task. You’re settled in a nice apartment, “but,” how did you receive that success? You signed a deal with a man who has you do terrible things, and... you do them.

But this happiness? This happiness comes with no exceptions. No strings. No pain. 

They ask you to marry them. For a brief, stuttering moment, you almost say no. But then, it’s been a few years since the smiling man came, hasn’t it? And when he eventually does return, well, it’s not as if you can’t do what he wants. You’ll just have to find ways to hide everything from your spouse. That’s all you’re worried about: keeping it hidden. 

Though, there is that nagging train of thought: What would your spouse think, if they knew what you’ve done? Who you work for? That you’ve hurt people? But no. You don’t think about for long. It hurts too much to look in the mirror and see yourself for what you are.

So you agree to their proposal. 

That night, you’re in your apartment (but, you think, a bit giddy--you’ll move in together soon and wherever you live won’t be just yours) and you can’t stop gazing at yourself in the mirror. Holding up your hand and admiring the ring. Smiling. And feeling truly happy. 

Because you fell in love. Because they loved you back. Because they asked you, on their hands and knees, for your heart and soul and you gave it to them willingly.

And then someone else is in the mirror. 

The smiling man.

Not a trick, either, because his voice comes from behind you, clear and displeased.

“A lovely ring. But you do seem to be forgetting something, my dear.”

You turn towards him and immediately back away.  Because... he’s different. Shifting. He doesn’t always look the same, but, you’ve never seen him like this. Never witnessed his human mask cracking, shifting in between guises, his smile going too far all the while, his teeth becoming jagged, monstrous. 

Finally everything seems to ripple and he’s back to how he looked when you first met. The guise he seems to enjoy the most. A young man with fair hair and beautiful eyes. His jagged smile is perfectly normal again. Perfectly lovely. Perfectly terrifying, all the same. 

You back into the wall and a picture frame digs into your spine. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say, half out of your wits. 

He doesn’t smile this time. Instead, he frowns, and it makes your stomach turn cold. 

“You’ve forgotten,” he says, “that I own you.”  And he doesn’t scream it, and his voice is as steady and smooth as ever. But his voice is like a chain that seems to wrench into your heart and pull your soul towards him.

“You can’t give away something that doesn’t belong to you anymore, can you?”

You start to say, “I don’t know what you mean,” but oh, you do. You do know. Because that day, when you agreed to his terms, when you shook his hand, you weren’t just trading away your freedom in exchange for your deepest wish. 

You were giving him your soul. 

#smiling man #just a lil smiling man thought from a few months ago #fleshed out #this is kinda related to one of my WIPs with him #also why yes this started with me watching hercules and remembering I love the meg and hades vibe #particularly that one scene after I won't say I'm in love #small spaces

[mystical-blaise]

Azriel Week 2022: Scars Run Deep

@azrielweek2022

This fic was inspired by this beautiful work of art.

For Free Day. Gwyn forces Azriel to confront his scars. Read here on Ao3

“Azriel?”

He didn’t stop, his emotions keeping his brisk pace even as her voice called after him as he made his way into the house. Even as the shadows told him to stop and listen. To answer the female calling for him.

Still, he ran.

Down the stairs into the House proper. Then trudging down into the living area, his boots silent even as his steps were hard. Harder than the footfalls following him from behind. The ones he pointedly ignored.

“Azriel, wait!”

Once he strode into his room, he had every intention of slamming the door—but he couldn’t when the nosy, indignant priestess had her hand on the jamb. Her booted foot blocked his attempt without hurting her. And there was certainly no way in hell when the shadows held the door open like her own personal cohorts. 

Her face was flushed from the exertion of her sparring and then her jog down the hall, the freckles a smattering of copper across her face. Those teal orbs of hers pierced him as well as any weapon. 

He narrowed his right back. 

“May I enter your humble abode, oh broody one?” she asked, sketching a bow. 

He snorted and jerked his chin. The door closed softly behind them with a wind of inky mist. This wasn’t the first time the priestess had been in his quarters. Long, sleepless nights had burgeoned into a friendship. And on nights they weren’t sparring or playing chess or reading in companionable silence? They talked. 

And somehow, one night, the conversation had turned to feelings… and his of Elain. Even if he was not quite sure what those feelings were. 

“Do you think she feels something for you?” Gwyn had questioned him, sitting cross-legged across from him on the floor, the opened book in her lap forgotten as she had given him her undivided attention.

He had answered her question truthfully. “I don’t know, but… I hope she does.”

He begged for her to. Prayed to the Mother that somehow she did. Maybe, just maybe, if she felt something for him that…

“So, why don’t you ask her?”

“That’s not how it works, Berdara,” he scoffed.

“How would you know? Was it not you three minutes ago admitting you were limited in this experience?”

Point for the priestess, his shadows tittered. The shadowsinger rolled his eyes. Traitors. They were always taking Gwyn’s side, whether or not she was right. 

Closing her book, the bluish-green eyes glittering in the firelight fell on him. “If you want to see where it may lead? Go tell Elain your feelings. Speak with her, Azriel.”

Azriel’s voice was muffled as he drew his bare hands down his face as he muttered, “I hate this relationship shit.”

Thud. There was a book thrown between them. “Females really are not that complicated, Shadowsinger. In fact, read that book. There’s nary a girl alive who hasn’t fallen for that hero. Consider it a how-to relationship guide. Just ignore the kidnapping bit and you’ll be golden.”

So, here he was after taking his friend’s unsolicited advice. Well, nearly taken.

“I’m assuming you went to her?” Her arms crossed over her chest, the battle leathers creaking in the movement. His chin dipped in a nod. “And I assume from your piss-poor attitude you had when you ignored everyone who was worried about you that it didn’t go well?” 

His eyes fell to his hands. Even wrapped with clean muslin and covered by his bracer, the uneven grips on his fingertips stood out like unintentional knicks in marble. Unfixable. An eyesore. Ruined. 

“Azriel.” Her voice was softer now, with no irritation. He heard her swallow. “I’m sorry. Did she not—”

“I didn’t speak with Elain.”

“Oh. Was she not available?”

With a derisive snicker, he tucked his hands behind his back, moving over to the mantle. Where he could focus on things other than his heart. His hands. 

His fucking hideous hands. 

Soft, tentative footsteps whispered on the floor behind him. Silence and waiting for him to continue. He’d spent enough time with the spitfire to know without turning around. Right now, she was twirling a piece of her hair while biting her lip. A nervous habit of hers, whether she knew it or not. She did that whenever she fought the swell of words down. Just as he knew she tucked it back behind her ear when she was shy or was faced with an uncomfortable situation. Which, he knew, was what was happening as her voice said, “I will not push you, friend. I’ll… I’ll leave you be. But, whatever happened, I am sorry—”

Friend. The word struck the center of his chest. Hell. Gwyn was his friend. A good one. A great one. Besides Cassian, perhaps his closest. And she was there for him, waiting to hear what was wrong. Until she wasn’t, and those retreating steps were heading away. 

“I turned around,” he said, his voice edged with panic. 

Her steps ceased.” Pardon?”

“I came back. I am not sure if Elain is at the river estate or the townhouse. Before I could land at either, I returned home.”

“I—I.” Gwyn stammered. She never stammered. Not like this. Though it worried him, he didn’t dare look. His stance didn’t last long because he was suddenly spun around with a hand wrapped around his biceps, forced to face her. To stop himself from spinning off balance, his hands fell to her shoulders, steadying himself with a grip. “You… you didn’t… but you were… why?”

“I just can’t.”

“And I say you don’t lack the courage to do anything you do not want to do, Azriel. And you wanted to know, so, again, I ask, why?”

“I simply cannot.”

“Is it the fear of rejection?”

“I do not fear anything, Gwyneth ,” his lie flew out, her name laced with venom at the end. 

“Liar,” Gwyn immediately refuted. “We are all afraid of something. It is not a failing. It is, in fact, a healthy response.”

His eyes slammed shut before snapping back open. Why couldn’t she just let this go?

Anger fanned his words as he spat, “A healthy response?” And as her mouth moved to speak, he said, “I’m not finished, Priestess. Is it healthy , I wonder, to cower when a hand is raised, wondering if you are going to be hit? Or is it not better to block before a blow? Is it healthy to flinch when someone reaches for you? Is it healthy to wonder if someone will step away from your touch? Is it—” 

It took him a moment for his own words to sink in. At what he just admitted. His eyes found his hands, his touch, still on the priestess’s leathered, trembling shoulders. His grip sure, poised—while touching her.

His eyes went wide, jerking his hands off of her as if fire had touched him again. Stumbling back until he felt bare under her watery gaze. Felt more stripped and naked than if he had shed his leather before her. He couldn’t take the way she looked at her with those unshed tears threatening to spill. The quiver of her full lower lip. 

He’d caused that. By his words. His admittance. His touch . Fuck. He’d grabbed her—Gwyn. The priestess who had been through so much and—

Go, run, he told himself, as he shoved past her. He threw open the door and hurried down the hall. Up those stairs two at a time. Until he was once again on the roof. 

He ignored his shadows, pleading to stop, to wait. He also ignored the boots slamming against the floor as she followed. 

Fly. Go. Retreat.

The only thing he heard was his instinct—so much so that he didn’t notice the Priestess in front of him now, her dainty fingernails pressing crescents into the leather over his forearms. Her hold was as strong and determined as a mountain. 

He was stronger. Physically, anyway. He could toss her aside if he wanted. But want and need were two different beasts of burden. 

“Azriel,” she pleaded, the gentleness in his name full of question. For an explanation as to why. 

His silence remained, a wall between them. But Gwyneth Berdara was a conqueror, removing that wall brick by brick as she guided his rapid breaths back down. And peeking through that hole in the wall, she waited. For him.

“I’m sorry I ran. You’re right, Gwyn. I am afraid,” he said, throat bobbing and wings shifting uncomfortably.

She stepped into him, her grip loosening enough for her to slide her hands up his arms. “What are you afraid of?”

A loaded question, to be sure. And still, he whispered, his voice cracking, “More things than you know. But the worst is being alone—because no one will ever willingly accept my touch. Nor should they.”

Gwyn’s gasp was full of emotion, his shadows swelling with the same shock. Better for her to know who her friend really is. 

"Elain… Elain didn’t say that to you… did she?”

“No. I just know these things. It’s been my entire life, Berdara. The gawking. The outright disgust. Parents pulling their kids away, protecting them from a disfigured monster. And when I picture my hands against her skin—Elain’s beautiful, unmarred skin. These hands, my touch on her…” Rippled and bumpy, uneven and coarse upon smooth perfection. “I think I’ve finally figured out the reason the Cauldron and the Mother have forsaken me a mate.” A beat of silence, a deep, painful exhale. “Monsters are not blessed with one.”

In fact, he should probably just exile himself to The Middle for good measure.

“Azriel, look at me.” He didn’t. He couldn’t. Fingers gripped onto his chin, pressuring him. “Azriel. You stubborn ass, look at me.”

Why should he when he knew what he’d see?

“Open your damn eyes, Shadowsinger, and look at me… please.” 

Her please felt like a cosmic command, unsealing them nearly beyond his control. The shadows hummed.

Stormy aqua raged back at him. Lowering her hands, she only offered them again, palm up, beckoning for him. “Your hands, good sir.”

“And if I decline?”

“Then you can wallow and I’ll leave you up here in your self-imposed pity party.”

Despite the warring emotions, he snorted at her irreverence. The sass of this female. 

He set his palms on hers in challenge. She did not flinch or balk, didn’t look as she began to unlace his gauntlets from atop his hands.

“What are you doing?” 

“Trust me,” she said, her eyes never leaving his as she undid one and then the other, gingerly setting them on the balustrade beside them. His heart raced and jumped as her hands unwound each hand, removing the wrappings, the unspun parts flowing in the wind like the white ribbon upon the Valkyrie’s brow. 

With each precise turn, his hands shook, and with each pass, the linen bindings loosened until they were stripped from his hands.

Grabbing onto his wrists, she held up his hands at eye-level between them.

“Now tell me, what do you see when you look at your hands, Azriel?”

His pulse ratcheted. His throat tightened. No one had ever asked him this before and yet the words came out in a rush, “I see the hands of someone cursed. Someone unwanted, and marked so.” Her thumbs stroked the inside skin of his wrist. Gentle, her hold was so fucking gentle that instinct told him it was a trap. And yet… “I see the lives they have taken.”

“Many have killed. I have killed.”

“Not like me! You killed because you had to. When I look at my hands? All I can see is the river of blood that runs between each valley of this stained skin. I see the hands of a creature, not a male. A monster who is truly unworthy to touch anyone. For my touch brings nothing but pain.”

“And do you know what I see?” Gods, he didn’t want to know. Not now. “I see hands that have had to do unimaginable tasks in the name of his sovereign. Ordered him to protect his court. His friends. His family.” He made to pull away, but she held on. Her grip loosened up for her hand to move up his, her fingertip skating across the craggy base of his palm. “I see the remains of abuse, of hatred imposed upon him when he could not fight back. I see the hands the High Lord trusts to be his Spymaster. I see the hands of a male the General of the Illyrian army clasps as his dearest friend. The ones that offer comfort to his friends and family in his own way. The ones his brother trusts holding onto his son, the heir of the Night Court. The ones Nyx trusts to hold him and not let him fall.” 

Up and up, her hands skimmed over his, a whisper of a touch, until their fingers interlocked and curled. Palm to palm. Pulse to pulse, his own hammering away as he felt tears burning in the back of his eyes. 

“I see the hands that taught sword techniques to priestesses who needed a teacher.” Her voice quavered, a tear slipping down her freckled cheek as she whispered, “I see the hands I trusted to lay a cloak on me at my weakest and most vulnerable.”

Fuck. His breath shuddered, his hand trembled on its own. And not once had she turned from his touch. And not once had he hidden his hands from her. The realization struck him like a killing blow from a Siphon. 

No, he’d only ever thought of helping her, never once concerned about his hands…

“I’m going to be blunt?” Gwyn said.

His laughter was wet, and he barely managed to speak without breaking into a sob. “You haven't been already?”

She shrugged, a smug little smile tugging at her lips even as her eyes glittered with tears. “You have scars, Shadowsinger. Deep ones. Ones given to you, not ones earned. Scars are part of experience. They mark time and memories, both good and bad. Mine may not all be visible, though I do have a good one on my arm from falling out of the tree… and that damnable mark from the arrow during the Blood Rite. The others I wear are below the skin, unseen by the naked eye. And I know you bear those, too.”

She did. His hands squeezed hers. And hers squeezed right back. 

“Priestess—”

“I’m not done.”

The shadows laughed and twirled a dance. Azriel snorted, sniffling. “Of course.” He dipped his chin. “Please go on.”

“What I see when I look at your hands doesn’t matter.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“No, it’s actually not. Just because people can’t see my scars outright does not mean they do not judge me for others. The first time you saw me across the training ring, and then on Solstice, there were moments I thought you saw them.” Fuck. “The only thing that matters is how you feel, Az. You play cards, so you know that sometimes the ones dealt are terrible. We were both dealt some cruel hands. And yet, here we stand.” The back of his hand, still joined with hers, skimmed across her cheek. “Your scars are reminders of your past. That you survived and prevailed despite all that had been inflicted upon you. They do not have to define your future. But only you can decide that, Shadowsinger. And any female who would make you feel uncomfortable because of your scars, both inside and out? She’s not worth it.”

He choked on a wet laugh, shaking his head. Gods, how did this young priestess become so worldly and brilliant? This priestess who now held his hand without fear, her thumbs tracing the ridges on the back of his hand like a map leading to…

Something in his chest sparked . 

“Promise me, Azriel. That you won’t settle for someone. That you will find someone, mate or not, who loves and respects you for all you are. Every scarred part.”

“As long as you do the same—and that you find someone, mate or not, who treats you like a godsdamn queen.”

Her smile gave away her rolling eyes. Pulling one hand away, she offered him her pinky. “Fine. I promise, but you have to promise the queen part, too. It’s only fair.”

“Fine. I’ll find someone who treats me like a queen. I promise, Gwyn,” he laughed, his marbled pinky twining around hers.

Magic flickered around them, pinching their wrists as a black tattoo curled in an infinity around their wrists almost like a black ribbon. Fuck.  

His eyes shot up to hers as her pinky slipped from his. “Well, my friend, it seems we have unintentionally struck a bargain.”

Not looking away from the copper-headed female, striding over to the weapons wrack, he said, “It would appear so.”

Gwyn peered at him over his shoulder. “So, Azriel, now that we’ve had that talk, are you going to go speak with Elain?” She grabbed the hilt of a sword and tugged.

“Gwyn, be care—”

Clanging steel resounded off the rock walls and railings into the night sky. 

“Mother bless it all!” Gwyn whisper-yelled. 

Wings drawing tight, he strode forward, already reaching for her. “Show me your hands. Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride.”

Azriel’s playful snort answered with her scowl.

The shadowsinger didn’t need a moment to think about getting down to help her clean up, their hands occasionally brushing as he helped the Valkyrie right the fallen blades. 

And as they worked, she asked him again, nudging him regarding the middle Archeron. But he didn’t have an answer right now. He and Cassian may have designed those obstacle courses, but it had been this young priestess who had thrown down the emotional gauntlet. There was much to consider. Much to resolve. 

And, as for right now? 

“Maybe tomorrow,” he stated as she went to place the last sword in its place. He stayed her hand and took the weapon from her, spinning it in one hand as he walked toward the center of the training circle. “Tonight, I think we need to work on your swordsmanship. Clearly.”

#azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth x azriel #azriel x gwyn #azgwyn #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara x azriel #gwynriel #gwyn acotar #hurt comfort #azriel week 2022 #gwyneth berdara #comfronting trauma #gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel friendship #azriel bonus chapter #post solstice #they are best friends #theyre so cute #i adore them

[detectivereads]

Nancy Drew The Case of the Captured Queen #147

By Carolyn Keene

4/5

This review is for fan entertainment, I'm not being paid.

I love this mystery; I love the setting of a competition and the threat of a saboteur in the mist trying to psych out the opponents. This book is in my top 5.

The story starts off in River Heights, where the International Junior Masters Chess Championship is happening, Nancy Bess & George are going to meet Donna Winston and her sister Danitra Winston. The Drew’s agrees to look after Donna and Danitra while they stay for championship where Donna is competing. Carson Drew and the sister’s father have worked on some court cases together.

When meeting up with Winston girls we also get a chance to see the other competitors, we have kids and teenagers competing in the tourney and even opponents from overseas too.

Donna is a character I like, and she was really well written, she loves chess, and she knows how to play the mind games that competitive chess demands (I never watch real chess matches, but I have watch beginner tutorials online and people who have been in competitions talk about their experience).

We also see a recurring character in the series, Brenda Carlton who is reporting on the tournament and much like her video game counterpart, she is jerk to Nancy and co. Brenda starts interviewing Donna and brings up another competitor, Greta van Veeuwen, its seems that she is the person to beat in the tournament.

Donna and Danitra were accompanied by Donna’s high school chess coach, Norris Stricker. He wants Donna to play and be the best. We meet another person, Chris Hurley, who is a college track coach who is trying to scout Donna, but he wants her to give up chess to do it.

 Donna was given a special chess board by a relative that she always has with her. We also get a bit of a history lesson about chess when Donna is setting up the board because this set is not the board that Nancy and friends are using too.

We also meet a few more characters, Anna van Veeuwen, who has been in the states as an exchange student, she loves America very much, but everyone else is shocked when Anna tells them that her sister Greta hates it here and wants to go home (homesick; she has been in the states for 3 weeks with their brother).

We then get our mystery, someone is threatening Donna to quit the tournament. We have a lot of suspects from college coaches to the competition.

This happens to be one of my all-time favorite Nancy Drew books, not just about chess and there is a contest going on, but its what the Winston girls do during tournaments they use ASL (American Sign Language) to communicate with each other, so they don’t disturb the other players.

This idea of using ASL was well thought of to be put in this book.

Overall, I did have problems following along with the chess matches and some of the jargon that is used but this is still a really good book.

#nancy drew #nancy drew books #clue crew #mysteries #books recommendations #book review

[leejungchans]

guitar string : l.jh

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lee jihoon (svt) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) / includes | running away, mentions of arranged marriage (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, angst, royal au

note | written with @ohmygoshcheese in mind for the carat admirer event 💗 hi rachel, i’m your carat admirer hehe <33 it’s been so fun getting to know and i hope we can continue interacting after this event 🥺 i’m not sure if this counts as a fantasy au but i hope you like this lil drabble i wrote for you, happy valentine’s day hehe :>

a/n: sorry i can’t really think of a summary but dw it’s pretty straightforward ;-; also three fics in three days? who is she? 😍 (more to come btw hehe)

“Take me away.”

Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze.

His head snaps up, finding you staring into the distance forlornly, eyes misting over as the corners of your lips turn down melancholically.

“P-Pardon, Your Highness?” The title you’ve come to loathe spills from his lips out of force of habit before he can catch himself.

Heavy is the exhale that leaves you when you turn to him. He’s found you enchanting ever since the moment you met, but perhaps even more so under the silvery luminescence of the moon during your clandestine meetings on the marble balcony of your quarters.

Yet, as you gaze at him with what can only be ascribed to pure, unadulterated sadness, the deep frown that mars your features threatens to settle permanently, and the hollows of your face are now hauntingly accentuated by the moonlight.

“Take me away,” you repeat, a little firmer this time, “I cannot bear a moment of this any longer.”

Two weeks. Two weeks had gone by since your father announced your betrothal to a neighbouring prince to unite your kingdoms. Of course, Jihoon was with you that very night, guitar abandoned at the edge of your bed in favour of stroking your hair with your head laid in his lap.

“But I don’t love him,” you whisper. Tears escape the corner of your eye, rolling down your smooth cheeks like crystalline dewdrops on petals at dawn. “I hardly know him, Jihoon. How am I supposed to marry him?”

“Perhaps… you’ll grow to love him.” Against his will, his voice cracks towards the end, the lump lodged in his throat ever growing. Invisible vines wrap around the column of his neck in a phantom force, constricting his breathing at the thought that in a month, you will truly be another’s.

Jihoon has always known that falling in love with you came with a hefty cost. To put it quite simply, your paths were not meant to cross. He was a mere musician who happened to receive the honour of entertaining the royal family at your father’s fiftieth birthday; he was not supposed to meet your eyes as he walked off the stage, he was not supposed to accept when you summoned him to the palace a week later requesting private guitar lessons, he was not supposed to let you in when you both knew that this relationship was fated for doom from the very beginning.

You smile, bittersweet and knowing. “I don’t think I can love him, Jihoon.”

Because my heart has long been yours.

Deep down, you knew this would happen. Born into royalty, you understood your role as a mere chess piece in a game much larger than your happiness, or yourself for that matter. The majority of your life was spent moulding you to become the perfect ruler, or rather—the perfect consort to your future spouse. You knew it was coming, yet reality had only truly sunken in with your father’s announcement: your life would never be truly yours.

Unless you did something about it.

Countless times in the past, you’ve confided in him about your desire to run away, yet you continue to remain out of fear, guilt, and responsibility. This time, however, it feels different. There’s something about your demeanour tonight that has uneasiness bubbling in his stomach.

“I… I cannot do that, Y/N.”

He feels your piercing stare searing through his side profile. “Is it… is it because you’re afraid of being caught with me? B-Because I will not dare ask you to stay with me after we cross the borders if that is not what you wish to do.”

Jihoon’s heart aches at your words. He loves you, deeply, and he loathes that he’s planted a seed of doubt in your mind which led you to the conclusion that he does not wish to be with you. Truthfully, he’s thought about offering to run away with you as well, but a little voice at the back of his head dissuades him from doing so each time.

Thus, he shakes his head, woefully, regretfully. “No, it has nothing to do with that…”

“Then why not?” you demand, eyes now fierce with defiance as you briskly cross the balcony towards the ornate chair he sat in. Jihoon flinches when you fall to your knees, your robes forming silky, luxurious waves at his feet.

“Ever since my father announced my engagement, I have spent restless nights questioning the remainder of my life,” you continue, staring up with him with glassy, pleading eyes, “and I’ve decided I no longer want to be confined to one where I cannot be happy nor free.”

A part of you hardly believes you’ve been reduced to such a state. You grew up believing no request of yours was too preposterous or unimaginable, everywhere you went you were accompanied by easily a dozen attendants whose lives depended on catering to your every whim. And yet look at you now—begging like a commoner.

It’s refreshing. It makes you feel human because for once in your life, you’re not just a puppet on strings or a little canary in a cage.

“I don’t have anything I can give you,” Jihoon whispers. His clammy hands find yours and clutches tightly. The drags of his rough, callused finger pads against your soft, unflawed skin is a painful reminder of his inability to give you the life he thinks you deserve. “With him, you will have more lands and jewels and riches… all I have is the guitar on my back. I cannot give you a comfortable life, Y/N. I… I can only give you my love.”

“Can’t you see, Jihoon?” you weep, tears falling behind shut eyes, “that’s all I desire! I only ask for a life with someone who loves me, not someone who sees me as a diplomatic tool.”

He rests his forehead on yours, one of his hands reaching up to find the side of your face as his thumb catches the salty trails. “You can’t go back if I take you away. Have you thought this through?”

“I have, and I don’t care if I have to run from them for the rest of my life. I only want to be with you. If… if you’ll have me, t-that is…”

Jihoon smiles comfortingly at the insecure wobble in your voice, rubbing soothing circles at your temple in an attempt to ease your doubts. “Of course I do, my love,” he tells you, “but the last thing I want is for you to live with regrets. I roam faraway lands in search of new muses alone until I came to your kingdom and met you, I’m used to a life of running. You… you’d be leaving your family, everything you’ve ever had and known behind with little to no chance to return. I only wish you happiness in life, but I have fears you won’t find it with me either.”

“I’m willing to take that risk. I just want to live a normal life… with you.”

He searches your eyes for any trace of hesitation, any sign of apprehension towards the thought of starting anew with absolutely nothing to your name. What he unearths instead is unyielding resolution swimming in your hardened gaze; his heart still hammers in his rib cage like a war drum—after all, the consequences should the two of you get caught will most certainly be severe, and perhaps deadly—but your determination eases a little of that fear. Now, he's never been a particularly optimistic person, but the sliver of hope that still exists within him makes him want to believe he is worthy, that you will find happiness with him.

And it is that little splinter that leads to his next words. “Then we better start preparing, my love. We don’t have much time.”

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be on horseback past the borders of your kingdom in the dark of night, with only endless plains ahead of you and your belongings packed in a single sack, you’d surely dismiss them with a wave of your hand. Little did you know that you’d soon meet a travelling musician with infinite talent and somehow even more love in his heart for you.

The castle you grew up in is now a speck in the distance. Strangely enough, you don’t feel an ounce of longing or regret. If they were willing to give you away, who could blame you for running?

Jihoon observes you quietly from a few paces ahead. “It’s not too late to go back,” he tells you.

You shake your head, turning back to him with a smile as your horse trots onwards to catch up to him. Pale is the starlight that lays gentle kisses on your faces, and as you look up at the endless glittering diamonds that will guide your way, you know in your heart that this is only the true beginning of your life. Jihoon seems to realise this too, because when your eyes shift from the cosmos above to lock onto his, he offers you a warm smile.

“Let’s keep going, love,” he says softly, nodding towards the long journey ahead of you. “Let’s go home.”

(And when Jihoon marries you a year later with a ring fastened from a string he plucked from an old guitar, one passed down onto him by his father, you knew you had made the right choice.

You never left home, because he was with you all along.)

#ficscafe #caratwritersclub #kdiarynet #sol.writings #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen angst #svt angst #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #woozi fluff #jihoon fluff #lee jihoon fluff #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #jihoon scenarios #jihoon imagines #lee jihoon imagines #lee jihoon scenarios #seventeen woozi fluff #svt woozi fluff #seventeen woozi x reader #svt woozi x reader

[azrielsbxtch]

Batboys X Nyx

Cassian sauntered over to where Rhys and Azriel sat playing chess and perused the board. They were in Rhysand’s study and the game had been going on for hours.

“Rhys I think it’s time you gave up” laughed Cassian

“Why?” Rhys frowned.

“Don’t you see it? He’s got you in three moves”

“No he doesn’t”

Azriel was silent. Studying the board. Ignoring them. But the little smirk he let out all but confirmed Cassian’s words.

Rhys went back to studying the board and realized Cassian was right. Azriel had him in a chokehold and he didn’t even see it until Cassian pointed it out. He wasn’t surprised. Cassian could beat even Azriel in chess.Sighing,Rhys resigned the game.

“You’ll get it next time” said Azriel

“Shut up” replied Rhys as Azriel and Cassian laughed at him.

He stood up and walked over to the large window in his study overlooking one of the many gardens in the River house. Feyre and Nyx were there. She was lying on her back and Nyx was on her stomach playing with the water butterflies she conjured for him.

‘You’re staring’,she said in his mind.

He was about to reply when Amren appeared in the garden and walked up to Feyre who sat up to listen. Amren turned and headed back into the house and Feyre stood up and winnowed right into his study.

“Hey guys” she said as she handed Nyx to Cassian who took him happily. Nyx started giggling and bunched his tiny fists into Cassians hair.

“I have to go to Cesere. There’s a situation there” said Feyre.

“What’s wrong?”

“The High priestess sent word to Amren.There have been sightings of unfamiliar faces around. Poking around the ruined temples. Cesere’s a small town. The locals would notice anything unusual. They reported it to the High Priestess”

“You think this has anything to do with Koschei?” said Cassian

“I don’t know. I’ll have to check it out first” she replied

“Do you want me to come with you?” asked Rhys.

“No. My shields will be open I’ll let you know whatever happens.I’ll go with Nesta and Mor. You guys watch Nyx okay” she said going over to kiss Nyx goodbye.

Rhys walked up to her,cradled her face and kissed her soundly. She smiled up at him tenderly before leaving the room...Rhys still looking at the door she just vacated.

When he finally looked away,Azriel was smiling softly and Cassian was covering Nyx’s eyes.

“Honestly Rhys there’s a baby in here.....”

—————————————————————————-

The guys sat in one of the dining rooms and were trying to feed Nyx who kept misting all the foods he didn’t like,which was almost everything.

“Aren’t you worried he’ll....I don’t know....mist a person” said Cassian

“No. He’s not strong enough for that. He’ll have to be older to have that strength and by then he’ll be able to control his powers” said Rhys as he struggled with Nyx who was squirming away from him and the mashed carrots. Nyx continued struggling,trying to wriggle out of Rhys’s hold and the bowl of food ended up all over him.

Cassian chuckled at the baby food now all over Rhys. In his hair, on his clothes....and when Nyx noticed Cassian laughing....he began to giggle too.

That was how Azriel met them when he entered the room. Rhys drenched in baby food,Cassian now in full blown laughter and Nyx bubbly and giggling as he played with the food on his father.

Rhys sighed and with one wave of his hand the mess disappeared. Cassian took Nyx who immediately started squirming again.

Azriel sat next to Rhys and dropped some papers.

“What’s this?”

“Reports from the legion we stationed near the Autumn court. My spies managed to get in. Barely. The whole Autumn Court army has been recalled back to the capital. Every last legion”

Cassian,still holding Nyx who had finally settled and was chewing on half a grape,said “Rhys,the only reason an army would be reassembled like that is to prepare for something big.”

Rhys picked up the papers his eyes scanning the massive numbers and weaponry being amassed. And that wasn’t even half of it according to the papers. They hadn’t managed to get an accurate number. Only an estimation.

“Is there anyway to contact Eris?” Rhys asked Azriel.

“The border has been shut down completely. Anyone who goes in won’t come out alive. It’s not a matter of dodging a few guards. The whole army is there. It wouldn’t be smart to try”

“So we have to wait for him to contact us?”

“I don’t think he can” Azriel answered.

“Fuck” muttered Cassian quietly.

They all nodded in agreement.

Rhys was about to reply when a tiny voice said

“Fuck”

Then started giggling.

They had completely forgotten Nyx was in the room.Cassian had dropped him in his large crib and he’d been playing with toys and apparently listening to their conversation enough to repeat the one word he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Nyx-“ started Rhysand going to pick him up

“Fuck!” He said again with a high pitched giggle. He reached out for his father but fell over onto his fluffy bat. Rhys reached in,picked him up and held him to his chest.

“How about you say daddy instead....can you say that?”

Nyx just put his fist in his mouth and stared up at Rhys.

“Maybe he won’t remember” said Azriel.

“Fuck!”

“Feyre’s going to kill you”

—————————————————————————

A few hours later,the guys managed to get Nyx to sleep. They were still discussing the reports when Nesta and Feyre walked in.

“What are you guys doing?” said Feyre.

Nesta sat next to Cassian and he kissed her on the cheek. Feyre hugged Rhys before sitting next to him.

Azriel slid the papers over to her and she scanned them quickly before passing them to Nesta.

“I wish we could get one - just one day without having to deal with all of this” said Nesta as she perused the papers.

Rhys smiled wryly. “How was Cesere?”

“Our visitors had left by the time we arrived. We searched the temple for any clues but got nothing. So we stationed some guards there and Mor and Amren are going back tomorrow. Maybe she’ll notice something we didn’t.”

Rhys nodded and Feyre stood up to go stand by the crib. She smiled as she watched her baby sleep. As if he could sense her arrival,he woke up with a hearty yawn and reached up for her. She took him out cooing to him in a baby voice as he cuddled up to her.

Nesta noticed that for some reason, the guys had suddenly tensed up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” Cassian replied quickly. Too quickly. Nesta peered up at him with suspicion. He hummed to himself and picked up a random paper pretending to read it.

Feyre came back to the table.

“I’m taking him up to bed. I’ll be down in a second”

“I’ll do it” Rhys offered standing up.

Nyx was fully awake now.

“It’s okay. I already have him”

“Say goodnight to daddy Nyx” she said bouncing him in her arms.

Nyx opened his mouth.

Azriel,Rhys and Cassian stilled.

But he just let out a little giggle.They all sighed collectively. Nesta regarded all of them with suspicion.

Feyre turned and started walking out of the room and they were almost past the door when Nyx said “Fuck!”

Feyre paused.

He began to bounce and giggle his arms stretching out to Rhys as he continued to repeat the damned word.

Feyre turned around slowly and said in a deathly quiet voice “What did he just say?”

“I heard duck” said Cassian and Azriel shoved him in the ribs.

“I leave him with you guys for a few hours and you’ve taught him a profanity!”

“Feyre darli-“

“Don’t Feyre darling me!”

“Cassian forgot and -“

“You taught him how to say it!” Nesta snapped glaring at Cassian.

“It was a mistake!”

“I cannot believe you guys” Feyre said glaring at them before walking out of the room.

Cassian walked up to Rhys and patted him on the back. “Sorry about that”

“Why are you apologizing to me?”

“Well incase you haven’t noticed....you’re not getting any tonight”

Nesta walked past them and said to Cassian with a scoff “And you think you are?”

He watched her leave aghast as Azriel started laughing silently.

#batboys #nyx acotar #feysand #nessian #gwynriel

[the-deep-fog]

The moon and sun have lost themselves to obscurity, and Fog descends. The environment is as classic a superpowered showdown setting one can get while still playing hospitality to a meandering mist that prefers uncountably many corners to hide itself in. One villain, a radioactive rebel holding to life like a weed that takes in pesticides for dessert, scouts the area, freshly healed and eager for a bout of vengeance. Another, the spitefully surviving embodiment of Harlan Ellison’s worst fears, calmly scours the playing field with no end of possible ending gambits stored in its motherboard/mind. Fully beknownst to their individual selves, whispered wonders and warnings reach them from unseen mouths yawning in the mist, subtly and ever so maddeningly guiding them further within the misty maze. Until, they meet. “Oh, Haricot,” CD crows, “back so soon? Why couldn’t you have stayed in the ground to rot a little longer? Are you that eager for another easy loss?” “Far from it, Chess,” returns Haricot. “Surely you don’t think I’d simply waste my time while relieved of your presence for ever so short a while?” It scoffs. “I should hope so, or else this will be over far too quickly to even be fun.” Ey smirk and start to reply, but cut emself off as the air between the two collects, gathers, and confuses into the outline of a figure sitting cross-legged with its chin resting in its hands. “Why, hello you two, Fancy meeting you here.” Both let off annoyed sighs (the similarities stopping there). CD speaks up. “Ugh, can’t you ever take this seriously?” “Yeah, way to kill the vibe,” Haricot follows up. Their complaints are met with only a grin. Suddenly directly in their faces, Fog actually replies, “So. I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.” The villainous duo look bemused, in a conniving sort of way. Haricot speaks first. “Believe it or not, I do know why you’re here- and Chess, trust me when I say it’s not a pleasant reason for you.” Incredulous, Chess replies, “Excuse me, but it’s not like I don’t know their reason for being here, and though your reaction seems improper it’s not like it matters that you think you know the situation, when in fact you’re in for...” “I didn’t lie, you know. To either of you.” Fog’s everlasting grin shifts slightly to a smirk, and the two rivals come to a realization at the same time. “Oh, you slippery little- “I knew that promise was too good to be true!” Well aware that riling up two of the biggest supervillains round the block leaves them in dire straits, the formless figure untangles their stature, giving off the appearance of taking a fighting stance. “Now, now, I’m not going back on my word at all! I shall deal as much damage as I can, just as promised. It’s only up to you whether to take advantage of the situation as it concerns your adamant adversary, or, yknow. Direct your avenging attention elsewhere.” Haricot reaches for a thorny beanstalk as they rise from the earth in numbers. “If you get dealt with permanently through all this, that’s one less thing getting in the way of me taking down Chess for good.” CD, in tandem, tessellates a jagged aspect of the ground and nods. “The less you bug me, Fog, the easier I’ll have it claiming victory over Haricot as well.” Zer smile grows even further, accompanied by the emergence of eyes from countless nooks and crannies in The Fog one could not imagine. For just because nobody could possibly know how one misty menace might pose a tangible threat, inflict damage of a directly mortal kind, it could be true all the same.

...

“Why are you doing this?” shouts Haricot, steadily growing a host of shrubs to shield emself with. “You must have a motive, nobody ever does stuff like this without a motive.” The Fog laughs, gleeful as ever, a booming sound that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. “You think I have a motive? That I am driven by anything to do what I do? Such things are the creations of you individuals; I have never had use for them. I go, and I act, and if that’s too much for you to comprehend then...” Though irradiating to demolition an eye that can hardly be described as there at all is a daunting task, Haricot pulls it off with determined flair. “Yeah, but you’re clearly going after me and Chess with some specificity- why go through all that extra effort? I know we’re not easy targets.” Fog lunges from & through nothing, resting in midair directly in front of them and looking at them intensely- less in a means of observation and more as mere eye contact for the first time they can think of. “Oh, the questions I ask have you asking questions in turn, what a wonderful relationship we have!” Haricot takes a step back, trying to develop personal space in a place where space itself can hardly be relied on, much less personhood, while Fog holds almost violently still amid the malevolent maelstrom. “I ask you this because you ask me the very same. Never has my question been, ‘why do you do this?’ because never have you, the one in my domain, done something humans don’t, and never has your question of ‘why’ been something I-” The ground beneath Haricot’s feet, steady as carbon-14, dissolves into murky air. Fog is torn to shreds above em as ey hurtle an unfathomable distance downward, till a web of vines and sludgy wood dense enough to support em forms. Though unclimbable walls extend around them, and depths great enough to distort the definitions of up and down yawn in every other direction, Fog reemerges from around a corner that cannot be found with an unprecedented frenzy in xer eyes. “You fight for your life, to survive, and I know how-why that happens. I know it,” they speak, with enough force to shatter a barometer. “Survival and curiosity are what motivates a human, but you two aren’t human, you reject it entirely, and you’re driven by more than this basic, primal duality, the intrinsic and extrinsic.” Can it yet be called an invasion of personal space when one has lost any sense of their body’s own position in space, and the other never had one to begin with? “You’re like me, and everybody questions me, and I too question everyone, but, I never- Sticks and stones degrade at the rotting hand of nuclear fusion. Haricot Heretic fights on.

...

Chess offenses, enacting gambit after glitchy gambit. “Damn you,” it mutters, then speaks more loudly into the stormy still. “What’s your goal in all this? Where are you trying to take this?” A cackle, harsh and untraceable, answers it at first. “Now, why would you assume I care for the results of my actions? That I aspire to achieve anything at all, beyond what you bear witness and contribute to as we speak?” Every word from The Fog’s mouths slithers through the air without discretion, almost as though it cares more about being heard than having its words said. The sharpness is turned down, resolution diminished, and threat put aside in a display of defensive tactics (though, how a cloud could ever be sharp enough to threaten in the first place remains bewilderingly unclear). “Look, you say you’ll never be satisfied, that it doesn’t matter if results are insubstantial- I don’t buy that. But you must know how we fight well enough to tell this won’t end well for you, so why devise all this in the first place?” CD asks again. It’s greeted by a face, ferocious and fanged, thrusting from the warring pixelation and obscurity besieging them. “I am transparent, you devil. You’re right, this is all futile, and for you to be correct at all shows my failure beautifully. I know not where this capacity for failure and determination in spite of such came from, because if I did, if my years spent interrogating the human race turn out to now have a tangible point, a lesson for me to learn, then-” Something or nothing or another scrapes hard against Chess’ horns, toppling it backwards into freefall. The ground, or whatever is passing for it, meets it immediately; jagged, hungry, & inviting. Something, many of it, planar and sharp enough to cut, is propelled or flung from the floor at it as it tries to pick itself up again. “You ask me questions I cannot, rather than will & would not answer, and I give you information I would & will not rather than can not.” Hir words seep through the condensation, slithering forward from behind its back just as easily as toothy mouths stretch as far as it can see in front of it. “You’re asking me questions none other have asked me- it should be inevitable. So why do I ask you, is it because you are different from any I have met before, or because I am different than-” The hard line between ones and zeroes forces separation and relief from the unclarity oppressing itself unto it. Checkmate is sought for ever longer. Checkered Devil fights on.

...

The fog is in no way noticed shifting, and yet Haricot & Chess find themselves in a clearing all the same. The two stand poised, not yet tired nor in peak form after all that has passed. Fog hangs in the air in front of them, not in form either. Sharp eyes, inhuman teeth, fill up space surrounding as they always have; a face, almost an outline, is arranged on Fog as it never has. It’s hesitant. Acting on impulse. Cowed and afraid. With all the cards in its hands. Ready to give up. Surely unstoppable. The target of infinite inquiries. Uncertain. “What do we have in common? Nothing of your motivation unites you with humanity- I am filled with questions, and that unites me with... them.” To Haricot and Chess, the sensation of eyes sliding their attention off them and onto another had never before been so very tangible. Nor had anything to do with Fog ever been tangible, though, only this far. “I know humanity when I see it- I don’t think these roles were meant to be reversed, okay?” they cut themself off, with their form almost seeming to be headed in a similar direction. Towards our villainous pair, a hand stretches forward. The wind picks up, drowning out sound & blurring vision, forcing the two to brace themselves; the only thing left clear in the maelstrom is a pair of eyes & a simple mouth- a face -and that hand, reaching, grasping, searching as far as it possibly can. “I am faced with the incomprehensible, filled to my limit with questions thanks to you two,” they yell, and scream, and whisper into the wind, “and it’s maddening. Every time i look at you two, it’s so, so, familiar it hurts

...

The sun rests comfortably in the sky. The moon, desaturated, finds a place above our villains’ heads as well. The Checkered Devil and Haricot Heretic stand, alone, on a simple grassy field. The air has cleared, only in a literal sense, and on the flat, clean, ground, rests a notebook, plain as can be.

...Does it get opened to the very first, or the very last page?

#writing #[that last sentence is indeed a prompt. an answer will be necessary] #hhvcd

[nah-she-didnt]

I’ll just choose a random one! What about... 17? From the promp list xx

Hello! Thank you for the prompt, I’m sorry it took so long. I just could not get the right angle on it. I actually wrote an entire Hinny response to this, but I accidentally deleted it (womp womp). Anyway, please enjoy this Jily moment! 

Read on AO3!

-- 

All Your Moments

The atmosphere inside the common room was like that of a poorly-attended funeral. Forlorn students milled about the room, still wrapped in Gryffindor scarves and clad in gold and crimson face paint. A lone banner with a large, moving lion lay crumpled in the corner, forgotten after the devastating loss to Slytherin. 

Lily sat among her friends in front of the crackling fire. Peter hugged his knees to his chest as he stared dismayed into the flames. Mary and Dorcas began a sullen game of wizard chess, prodding their pieces around the board half-heartedly. Sirius and Remus sat in the same squishy armchair, Remus’ head resting against Sirius’ chest. 

Sirius sighed loudly. “Thank god I got disowned, I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of this from Reg if I still lived at home.” 

Remus laughed, but Peter’s face remained unchanged. “I can’t believe we fucking lost,” he muttered into his knees. 

Remus threw a pillow in his direction. “Buck up, Pete. It’s not like you lost, just your team.” 

Peter gaped at Remus. “You know, Remus, you’ve never really understood the beautiful game that is quidditch.” 

“At least he understands his Transfiguration homework,” Sirius snapped. 

“Boys, boys,” Remus sighed, throwing a sharp look in Sirius’ direction, “let’s not fight, yeah? Tonight’s depressing enough.” 

Lily glanced towards the boys dormitory. James had disappeared up the stairs after the game and had not resurfaced since. She knew he had to be hurting right now. Quidditch had been a massive part of his life ever since he started at Hogwarts, and to lose the championship game as captain in his seventh year had to be devastating. At this thought, Lily hoisted herself up from between the squashy couch cushions and stood, shoulders squared, facing the boy’s dormitory. 

“I’m going up there,” she said confidently and moved towards the staircase. 

Sirius caught her arm. “Lily, no,” he said gravely, “you haven’t been dating Prongs very long, but let me tell you. He is an insufferable crybaby when he loses at quidditch.”

Lily scoffed. “Oh come on, he can’t be that bad.” 

“No, he’s worse,” Peter grimaced, “remember when they lost to Hufflepuff in fourth year and he disappeared into the forest for four hours?” 

“Maybe he needs a bit of cheering up,” smirked Mary as her knight decimated Dorcas’ pawn.

Lily glared at Mary. “I’m not going to shag him out of his misery, but thanks for the suggestion.” 

Mary shrugged. “It would work, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Lily very much doubted Mary’s words as she climbed the stairs to James’ room. She remembered that loss against Hufflepuff. James moped around the castle for a full week, barely speaking in classes, which at the time had been a blessing. Now she felt her heart drop when she recalled the look on James’ face as he dismounted his broom on the quidditch pitch, the Slytherin players celebrating and hoisting the Quidditch Cup in the background. 

Lily reached James’ door and knocked softly. There was no reply. 

“James?” she called tentatively, knocking, again, “are you alright? We thought you might like to join us downstairs.” 

There was no response. She knocked again. 

“James, I know you’re upset, but please come down. It’s not the same down there without you.” She pushed open the door, but the dorm was empty. 

“That was fast,” Dorcas grinned as Lily approached the group again, “bit of a quick draw, is he?” 

“Shut up,” she snapped, “Remus, I need the map.” 

Remus frowned. “What makes you think I have it?” 

“Because that map is like your baby, now hand it over.” 

Remus grumbled but reached into his pocket for the map. Lily snatched it out of his hand and started to scan the corridors for James.

“He must have slipped out under the invisibility cloak,” she murmured as she searched. 

“I’m telling you,” Peter sighed, “he’s off to the forest. Someday we’ll tell our kids, ‘oh yeah, I remember James Potter. He was a giant sore loser who marched into the forest one day, never to be seen again.’” 

Lily ignored this, her eyes sweeping over the Hogwarts grounds. Finally, she spotted him. “Gotcha.” 

She triumphantly stuffed the map into her pocket. Remus flinched at the way she manhandled his craftsmanship, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. 

“Right, I’m off to find my crybaby boyfriend, pray that I don’t get caught by Filch.” The others echoed calls of luck as she made her way out of the dormitory. 

The castle was dark and silent as she crept along the walls. Every shadow was Filch, every squeaking mouse was Mrs. Norris. She realized about halfway to the entrance hall that she was in a stupidly vulnerable position. She knew that if she were caught she could just say she was out of bed on official Head Girl business. However, if she ran into any Slytherins on her way out, she would almost certainly be outnumbered. She forced herself not to think about that possibility and pressed on. 

She stopped just before the great oak doors to the castle and pulled the map out of her pocket again. There he was, still sitting motionless in the middle of the quidditch pitch. Drama queen, she thought as she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. No, she needed to compose herself and support him now. 

The night air was crisp and warm, not quite the oppressive heat of summer but still pleasant enough without her cloak. She traipsed through the grass damp with mist and across the grounds towards the pitch. 

She didn’t know as much about quidditch as some of her friends, but even she could tell that James had played badly that day. He seemed distracted, like he was always one step behind his teammates. In one particularly bad moment James had turned his head to bark orders at his keeper and completely missed the bludger that soared right into his throwing arm. He played out the rest of the game, but he hadn’t been able to make any more goals. 

Lily halted at the entrance to the pitch and scanned the dark grass. The pitch appeared empty, but Lily knew better. 

“Oi, Potter!” she shouted into the night. 

A moment of silence passed. Then a floating head popped into view. 

“Over here,” he called. She could hear the defeat in his voice. 

She walked the length of the pitch until she was level with James, then plopped to the ground beside him. The water from the grass beneath them soaked through her knee high socks. 

“You don’t play fair,” he muttered miserably, “I came out here to mope away from everyone, but you got the map off Remus, didn’t you?”

She grimaced. “I didn’t want you to be all alone.” 

James glanced up to the goal posts in front of them. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ll never play another proper game of quidditch. The whole time leading up to the game all I could think about was winning, but I never thought to just enjoy my last moments up there.” 

Lily nodded and reached out to clasp his hand. “I’m sorry, James. You’ll play quidditch again someday.” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, eyes still pointed to the skies, “but it won’t be the same. I’ll get over it, I suppose, but I wish I’d played well enough to remember it fondly.” 

Lily didn’t know what to say to this. She knew she couldn’t disagree with him. He knew as well as anyone that he played poorly that day, and any attempt to contradict him seemed feeble. She offered him a small smile. 

“You know, you have your whole life ahead of you. You’re an incredible man. You’ll do things that are much more important than winning the quidditch cup.” 

He laughed and squeezed her hand. “That doesn’t help as much as I’m sure you intended, but thank you.” 

Lily tugged at him. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Everyone’s waiting in the Common Room.” 

James shook his head. “No, I just want to remember this place for a bit. But could you stay with me? Honestly, after this shit day, I just want a hug.”

She nodded, and they laid back in the grass together, gazing up at the sky. She rested her head against his chest and draped an arm across his waist. They lay in silence for a few minutes, listening to the light wind whip across the open field. Lily could feel water soaking the back of her sweater now, but she didn’t care. 

She never knew how nice it would be to share his failures with him as well as his triumphs. Here he was, solemn and dejected, but still open. She realized in that moment how much she wanted from him. She wanted all his moments, his great booming laughter and his silent disappointment. Every new emotion with him felt right. 

James finally smiled over at her through the blades of grass that separated them. “I’m a real joy to be around right now, I’m sure.”

Lily laughed. “It’s alright, I like it out here with you. And you never stay down for long, you know. Even now you’re joking around like everything is alright. That’s one of the things I love about you.” 

James’ smile slid from his face and was replaced with surprise. She’d never said that word to him before, but it felt natural in the moment. Even now she realized she did not regret her words. 

“You love that about me?” he whispered through the darkness.

She nodded softly. “Yeah. I love you, James. I do.” 

James blinked stupidly for a moment as if he were processing her words. Then he sat up quickly. “Wait,” he said, eyes narrowing, “you’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?” 

Lily laughed as she sat up too. “No, I mean it. I love you, James Potter.” 

James sat stunned for a moment. Then he jumped to his feet and whooped with laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she said, also clambering to her feet, “what exactly is funny about that?” 

James dived at her, picked her up, and spun her around. When her feet landed on the ground once more he held her close and pressed his forehead to hers. “What’s funny, Lily Evans, is that I never in all my life thought you would say those words to me.” 

Lily rolled her eyes. “Don’t be daft,” she said, trying and failing to look annoyed, “you must have known.” 

“Never,” he beamed down at her then kissed her gently. The wind tugged at her hair and clothes as they swayed for a moment, gripping each other tightly. 

Lily suddenly broke the kiss. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What? Oh! I love you too, of course,” he grinned, “I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known you.” 

“That’s more like it,” she laughed, then tackled him back to the ground.

#Nina writes #jily one shot #jily #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #dorcas meadowes #mary macdonald #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

[xiaomoxu]

West Moon (坠月之宴) Chapter 2 Part.ONE

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A story from CN server which hasn’t been released in EN server. Contains detailed spoiler from the AU (Alternated Universe) - 坠月之宴 West Moon Story.

Read the previous chapter here

There’s some sub-chapter which full of battle stage so I didn’t put it here.

Stories under the cut-

Chapter 2-1

You are my only dream.

The wind passed through the bamboo forest that day,

I passed by a good dream.

Want to hear the sound

But he strayed into a scene in spring.

It broke the black city.

This time,

Who disturbed whom?

The jade chess piece fell on the chessboard with a crisp sound and broke the silence around.

I opened my eyes in the mist, and the sky light had dimly lit up for unknown time.

The morning breeze brushed over the bamboo leaves, blowing away the mist, and the green lake in the distance also had its starting point ripples.

The stone tables and benches are still the same, but the pavilions surrounded by bamboo shadows make me feel a bit strange.

MC: Strange. Where am I?

At the last moment of my memory, obviously still staying in the backyard of the wine shop.

I propped up and looked down at the table that had just fallen. The magic qin that was originally placed on the stone table was gone, only a criss-cross chessboard.

On the chessboard, black and white pieces are clearly distinguished, and white pieces are surrounded by black pieces.

There was no smell of demons around, I faintly breathed a sigh of relief, and began to wonder if I was in a dream.

The situation in this dream seems to be familiar, as if I have seen it many times in the past.

During the three years of deep sleep, my consciousness has been trapped in long dreams for some reason. The blurry and chaotic dreams are like fragments of colored glaze, which cannot be put together into a complete picture.

Sometimes I traveled in the wilderness, sometimes in the purgatory, every dream, whether absurd or cruel, is a long torment.

But occasionally there will be moments when the breeze comes, like this pavilion.

MC: Will I see that person again this time?

Inexplicably, I have a kind of expectation in my heart that I can't express

There was no one around, so I picked up the white piece on the side of the chessboard and placed it according to the memory in my dream.

The person who played against me doesn't know where it came from

In my dream, the five senses are not working at all times. I don't remember his appearance very much, but I still remember a little voice.

Dreamer: You messed up like this

His voice seemed to sound in my ears again, and I was slightly lost. The chess piece between my fingers had just landed on a corner of the chessboard, and a gust of breeze suddenly passed over the bamboo forest behind me.

??: If you play in such a mess, you will ruin the game.

A gentle voice rang in the ear, as if overlapping with the voice in the memory.

I turned around subconsciously, but a pair of hands came from behind and surrounded me.

The wide sleeves engraved overturned the chess game in front of him, and the black and white chess pieces rolled to the ground, making a jade-like sound.

The temperature that was about to fit behind my back came through the thin clothes. I was shocked, suppressing the exclamation from my mouth.

MC: ... It's you.

With a chuckle in my ear, the temperature that surrounded me left.

Mysterious Man: We meet again.

There is a faint smile on the corners of his lips, and his gradually clear face gradually overlaps with the figure in the dream

MC: It's you who helped me repel those monsters. Who are you?

I squeezed my sleeves tightly and looked calmly at the person sitting opposite.

He didn't explain, letting his sleeves skimmed over the messy chess pieces on the table, he twisted a black piece casually.

Although the hidden energy in his body is strange, but he has no devilish energy in his body, and he does not look like a bad person...

But maybe because of the little bit of familiarity, or maybe because he saved me once, I didn't feel nervous.

MC: Sorry, I didn't mean to play this game of chess...

Mysterious Man: How can you conclude that this game of chess is mine just because I am here?

I was choked by his words, turned around and had to ask again.

MC: Where exactly is this?

Mysterious Man: Don't you know it?

He did not directly affirm my guess, but I still feel that he seems to be suggesting something.

MC: Why... you appear in my dream?

Mysterious Man: How do you know this is your dream, maybe you broke into my dream?

I froze for a moment, and met his dim eyes.

Those eyes were like cold pools with no bottom, but just a moment of looking at each other gave me a suffocating feeling of oppression.

But he casually continued to play with the chess pieces.

Mysterious Man: Or, the owner of the dream is not you and me.

Hearing what he said, I seemed to really feel the prying eyes in the dark.

"Shooㅡ"

The abrupt sound made my whole body tremble, and I turned back abruptly, but only a bamboo leaf fell to the ground.

I breathed a sigh of relief. A thin layer of sweat had formed on my back, but the uncomfortable feeling had not disappeared.

MC: When will this dream end?

I desperately wanted to leave the dream, but the only insider hid the chess pieces and placed them on the messy chessboard.

Mysterious Man: Can you play chess?

MC: .... I understand a little.

He looked up at me with a smile but didn't reveal my clumsy chess skills.

Mysterious Man: There is a way of talking in chess called "raid".

Mysterious Man: Once the catastrophe occurs, the two sides will be trapped in a cycle of incomprehension. Therefore, after the raid, one party can pick up one son, and the other must make another move before the raid can be resolved.

Although I don't know how to play chess, I know a little about these terms, but I don't know why he mentioned this.

Mysterious Man: The catastrophe in this game is you.

I heard it inexplicably, but it seemed that I knew what he was talking about, and looked at him more defensively.

MC: When you will tell me your identity?

He did not answer, playing with the last sunspot on his fingertips. When I looked down, I realized that the previous game had been restored by him, but my white piece was missing.

Mysterious Man: This game of chess cannot be returned.

He sighed softly and threw the black stone between his fingers to the chessboard.

With a light "break" in, something was pierced.

Like a calm lake being broken by flying stones, the ripples in front of my eyes are like dissolving ink and still water.

I can't see his appearance, only the figure blurred by the waves seems to be reflected on the other side of the water.

Mysterious Man: We will meet again soon. By then, you will know who am I.

His voice gradually dissipated, and the cyan layers in front of me faded away. I woke up like a dream. I shook my dizzy head and found that the person before me was gone.

And there was no such splendid bamboo forest and water pool around. Fortunately, I was in the courtyard of the wine shop, and the magic qin was quietly placed on the stone table.

The sun in the sky has just risen, and from time to time we hear the singing of birds and the shouts of the morning vendors in the deep alleys in the distance.

MC: Was it a dream just now?

I rubbed my swollen temples, still echoing what the man said.

What he meant by the robbery in the game...what exactly did he mean?

Before I could think of a reason, a small shouting came from behind me.

When I turned around, the lady boss was looking at me in surprise.

Boss lady: MC, why are you here early in the morning?

Boss lady: ...Did you sit here all night?

Suddenly seeing a real figure appear in front of my eyes, I couldn't help but lose consciousness for a moment, and the lady boss suddenly saw that something was wrong with me.

Boss lady: What happened?

MC: Nothing, I was a little tired recently and fell asleep accidentally.

I shook my head, afraid that she was worried, so I concealed the bizarre dream.

Boss lady: The weather hasn't warmed up yet, what should I do if you catch a cold? Go back to your room and freshen up!

My mind gradually returned to clarity, and I nodded to her.

Whether it is this mysterious dream, fragments, or maybe the puzzles in the magic qin. For me now, they are hard to solve.

I took the magic qin back to the room and locked it, changed my clothes and planned to find the master.

After all, now only the master can tell me how to take out the fragments.

Chapter 2-2

When I walked out of Three Dreams Square, the sky was already bright.

The street is bustling today, and the crowds are rushing in the same direction.

The golden sun shines over the glazed dome on the palace building. The water fell on the tall white platform standing in the far north of the city.

That is the tallest and most sacred building here.

My heart was slightly still, and then I realized that today is the day of sacrifice for the West Moon.

My steps uncontrollably followed the flow of people to the pure white platform, but an indescribable complex emotion surged in my heart.

The worship of West Moon Kingdom has always been presided over by the master. And I will also stand on that high platform during the annual ceremony.

Suddenly, there was a burst of exclamation and noise from the crowd. At the same time, the vigorous bell rang from the northernmost end and awakened the entire city.

Commoners: It's an envoy of God!

My heart jumped suddenly and I raised my head. As expected, there was a man in profound clothes standing on the towering hidden spirit platform.

It's Master!

The lingering sound of the bell dissipated, and everyone's voices fell silent, except for the hunting sound of the dark blue curtain being blown by the wind.

First, the hundred officials, and then all the people at the banquet bowed down and worshiped, toward the direction.

That tall, sacred and inviolable figure is the only person who can communicate with God in this world, and it is also the belief of West Moon Kingdom.

It is the gods who have guarded this country for hundreds of years since the establishment of this country

I looked at the master's back, and my heart shook slightly.

Master... was also the one who saved my life.

The sacrificial ceremony ended in a solemn sound of bells and drums. Seeing the master's figure leave from the high platform, I wrapped my cloak, passed through the crowd, and continued to the hidden spirit platform.

There was a commotion behind him, and there was a rush of horse hooves galloping in this direction.

Passersby: Hey, girl! Be carefulㅡ

I didn't have time to get back to my senses, and there was a scream of horses behind me, and the sound of horses hooves close at hand, as if it was about to hit me in the next second!

I quickly flashed aside, and the tall horse passed me by, and the turbulent wind almost turned the cap on my head.

In a hurry, I had to saw the teenager on the horse.

The teenager who rides by has a handsome face, and his long hair is also raised high, with a strange color in the daylight.

MC: Why is he?!

I was shocked, I quickly held down the veil, turned and flashed into the dark alley, fearing that the little magic star would notice.

Passersby: The second prince is out of the palace again?

This person has always been arrogant. A few years ago, His Majesty controlled him strictly and would not let him out of the palace easily. How can he let him go on the streets now?

Teenager: What's going on today? I will definitely teach you a lesson when I go back!

The sound of horse hooves finally stopped. I hid behind the crowd and heard the familiar voice sternly scolding the restrained horse, but his tone soon softened again.

Teenager: Don't be afraid, I won't use you to make horse meat hot pot.

MC: This person, as expected, is still the same...

The officers and soldiers in the distance had already rushed over, and I quickly lowered the brim of my hat and flashed into the market with my back facing them.

I don't know how long this worry about being discovered will last.

Fortunately, the sacrifice was still going on, there was no one around, and I came to Master's residence with little effort.

Haven't seen it for three years, the layout here is still the same as I remember.

Except for the necessary living utensils, there is nothing else, spotless, still cold and not like the place where people live.

I lifted my foot and walked in.

The warm sunlight flooded into the room through the window, and a new set of clothes was placed in a tray on the table, neatly folded.

I'm not familiar with the patterns on this dress. There was nostalgia in my heart, and I subconsciously stretched out my hand to touch it.

This is the uniform of the Miko. It is also the clothes I used to wear once a year.

In the past three years, I was in a long dream, and the rituals of the hidden secret was forced to shelve for three years.

There are not a few months left before this year's ceremony for the secret ceremony, is there already a new selection of Miko in the middle of the kingdom?

At this moment, there was a muffled noise from the back of the temple, and the ground shook.

My heart shuddered, and I recognized that the abrupt sound came from the backyard.

The backyard has always been a forbidden place for the master, and the master is still presiding over the sacrifice. Who would be there?

Listening to the movement, I had a bad feeling for some reason. Although it is a forbidden area, I haven't broken into it before.

Thinking like this, I stood up and walked towards the door to the backyard

Suddenly there was a door opening behind me, and there was a scream in my heart.

MC: Master is back!

Fortunately, the Master hadn't entered the room yet, so I went back to the room and picked up a book, pretending to look through it.

The familiar sound of footsteps gradually approached, and I lowered the book I opened and couldn't help but go to the door.

It might have been expected that there would be someone in the house, and the master had not even entered the door, and a cold voice had already come in.

Master: You are not allowed to come in without my consent next time.

Chapter 2-3

My heart sank, Master was not so indifferent to me in the past.

The door opened with a "creak", and the master stepped in at the answer, and I quickly raised a smile.

MC: Master, you're back!

Master: Why are you here?

Master seemed a little surprised when he came in and saw me. His previous clothes had been changed, and the sense of distance that he could not reach seemed to fade with it.

MC: There are some things to ask Master for help.

He was startled, and nodded faintly.

MC: Master, I seemed to hear noises in the forbidden area just now, and I don't know if someone broke into it by mistake.

Master sat down opposite me, as if he didn't hear my reminder, and asked directly.

Master: What’s wrong?

MC: .....It's not a very important thing either.

I took a deep breath and started telling stories directly.

MC: Yesterday, when I was in the back of the wine shop, a qin suddenly fell from the sky.

Anyway, no matter what excuses, Master would not believe it. I simply let go of my courage.

MC: Who knew there was a hidden crystal fragment in this qin, It may also be that the hidden crystal fragments in my body have the power to summon.

MC: So I want to ask Master how to take out the fragments.

Master listened to my clumsy lie without saying a word, and there was no wave on his face.

MC: If you don't find the pieces quickly...

I paused and swallowed back the words.

Master: Wait for me here.

The master retracted his hand and walked towards the hall. I looked at his back in a daze.

These three years are just a long dream for me, but for Master, what three years are they?

Soon, Master took out an exquisite and simple black box.

Master: Take this with you and don't lose it.

MC: What is this?

I took the palm-sized black box from him, it heavier than I thought, and there's chilly sensation, as if some kind of energy was attached to it.

Master: This is the box of retreat, which can help you recover the fragments attached to their media.

Master: But before taking it back, the body attached to the fragments must be annihilated.

He motioned to me to open the box. I opened the lid of the box curiously, but found that there was nothing in the box.

I just wanted to ask, suddenly a chill spread across my body, and the spar on my chest actually resonated faintly.

Master: Feel it?

MC: Yes... I feel it.

I nodded, only feeling that my heart was filled with this strange yet familiar energy in the box.

This energy is indeed as sacred and clean as the master, but for some reason, I somehow remembered the power that I felt in Three Dreams Square last night.

That kind of pure and evil power.

Master: What's wrong?

As if he saw me distracted, and frowned slightly. His voice brought me back to my sense.

MC: Nothing, thank you Master.

In any case, Master will never harm me.

Having figured this out, I immediately put aside the worries I had just now.

Master glanced at me, and was about to ask something, suddenly there was a knock on the door.

The visitor was the emperor's attendant, and he was asking Master to go to the palace to discuss matters. Master responded and looked at me again when he got up.

Master: Be careful.

MC: Thank you Master, Master, take care.

Seeing the corner of the black robe disappear behind the door, I carefully put the box of retreat into my arms. I looked around, the voice I heard before was still suspicious

At this glance, I noticed that there were still a few brightly colored red spirit fruits on the table, which seemed to have just been picked off.

I couldn't help but murmur in my heart: Does master like this kind of fruit so much?

I thought about it, grabbed a piece of fruit on the table, and ate it as I went outside, when I suddenly heard a strange noise in the courtyard.

MC: Who?!

I stopped and looked around warily.

I don’t know if it’s my illusion. From the moment I enter the door, I feel like I have a pair of invisible eyes watching in secret.

While I was fully alert, a civet cat suddenly got out of the bushes and shook all the blades of grass.

Those black eyes looked at me, and then ran away quickly.I was relieved, speeded up and walked out.

After walking far away, my heart choked suddenly. Master's courtyard has always been a place where all the beasts are kept away. How come there are civet cats?

I looked back at the ebony gate in the distance. The stone lion head is majestic, but I suddenly feel a little ominous.

Is something wrong with the master?

When hesitating where to go next. Suddenly something was faintly hot in sleeve.

I took out and looked, and found that it was the black feather that fell from the boy in the dark alley yesterday.

The black feather was faintly glowing and deflected in my palm. I moved my palm, and it moved with it.

This is... pointing a direction?

My heart moved, and there was a subtle curiosity that the young man was calling me, or just my intuition?

For some reason, I always feel that the boy who held a sharp knife yesterday will not hurt me. And I even have an urge to see him again.

I thought for a moment and walked in the direction that black feather pointed out.

Chapter 2-5

Following the direction guided by it, I gradually heard the noisy voices not far away.

This strange feather did not lead me to the remote and deep alley as I thought.

MC: Could it be that I was thinking wrong?

Not far away, the people watching the crowds in the city square went inside and outside for several times. I lowered my head and dialed the black potassium in my hand, but it slowly turned back to this direction.

MC: Okay, just let me see what you want to lead me into.

From time to time there was exclamation and applause from the crowd. I stood on tiptoe and looked around for a long time, only to see a golden hair top in the distance.

Looking at this posture, it seems that some strangers are performing some novel tricks.

The city have always been a place where foreign business travelers gather. Ordinary tricks have long been popular. Why is it so lively today?

MC: Excuse me.

I squeezed into the crowd and saw a round table in the open space, there's stood a light blond boy.

His facial features are a bit unreal and delicate, and his friendly and clear smile has narrowed the distance again. No wonder the business is so prosperous.

At this moment, he turned his head to the side of my sight in the crowd.

MC: It's you?!

This boy is clearly the assassin I ran into in the alley that night!

My exclamation stuck in my throat. The boy's eyes seemed to stop on me for a short time, and a trace of surprise flashed in his eyes, and he continued to look away from the crowd.

I confirmed that I didn't mistake the look in his eyes. But is this hearty blond boy really the same person as the silver-haired assassin who raised his sword?

If only the looks are similar, why would that black feather guide me here?

I subconsciously pulled the curtain down, intending to observe again.

The blond boy fetched an empty bowl and quivered back and forth. A stream of clear water poured out of the bowl.

The crowd suddenly cheered, and his fingers tapped the side of the bowl flexibly, and smiled as he spread the water around him like a flower.

I was caught off guard, so I had to lift the half-wet gauze on my hat.

At this time, someone screamed again, and I ignored the water droplets. I was surprised to see a red koi suddenly jump out of the bowl held by the young man.

There is a row of small fish tanks under his feet. As he rotates, the red and gold fish jump into the tank one by one from a high place, splashing clear water.

But the scene did not last. Sudden shouts rang from behind the crowd, interrupting the boy's performance.

I turned my head and looked like everyone else, and saw that the city guards appeared.

Guards: Today, the whole city is under martial law, no one can stay here!

Passerby: Why did the martial law suddenly come?

Passerby: I heard that the second prince was stabbed at the city gate just now, and I don't know if it was because of this...

I hadn't heard it really, the people watching the excitement were quickly scattered, and those who were slow were pushed a few times.

These brave guards do not seem to maintain order, but rather come to add chaos.

I wiped the drops of water on my face, pulled the veil down again, and quickly entered the crowd.

Guards: The one in the hat, stop! Take off the hat!

My heart sank suddenly, pretending not to hear, bowed my head and walked forward quickly.

Guards: I'm talking to you! The one in front, stop for me!

The officers and soldiers behind we shouted, and the curious eyes all around fell on me.

Oh no!

The situation is critical now, and I cannot expose myself in any case.

There was a burst of brisk laughter behind.

The conjurer put down the water bottle, jumped lightly from the stage, and stopped between me and the guards.

MC: ...Get out of here!

I lowered my voice, my anxious heart couldn't hold back and was about to pop out

He bends down deafly, picked up a small white porcelain fish tank, and put it in my hand without any explanation.

I stared blankly at the fish tank in my hand, a small red and white fish swimming slowly in the water.

Mysterious Boy: For you.

He blinked, and before I could reply, he turned to face the guards.

Mysterious Boy: All the adults also join the show, how about my newly learned trick?

Guards: Get out of the way and don't hinder official duties!

The boy was not angry, but smiled and reached into his arms to get something, but after a while he took out a handful of soybeans.

The guards were about to get angry. The corners of the young man’s lips were raised, and his hands were held together. The soybeans thrown high into the sky turned into yellow coins.

Passersby: It's money now! Pick up the money!

People scrambled to pick up the copper coins scattered on the ground, and the streets that had just been evacuated were instantly blocked.

Guards: Hey, don't run!

He grab my hand and ran forward. Seeing that my hood was about to be blown away by the wind, he quickly reached out and pressed my head.

MC: Youㅡ

Guards: Find me that guy!

In a hidden alley, facing this familiar face, I didn't know what to say for a while.

MC: You, you run too fast.

Mysterious Boy: I will lead them away first, and you will wait for me somewhere else.

MC: Somewhere else?

He pointed to the back, and a large tree was far from behind the high wall that was twisted and looped.

MC: You mean, we will meet there later

Before I got a confirmed answer, I was pushed out by him and involuntarily rejoined the crowd.

And he slid in the direction he had come, but turned his head halfway, as if confirming, and glanced at me from a distance.

The guards saw him as the most conspicuous in the crowd at a glance immediately shouted and rushed over.

The young man shook his hand in the air, a burst of golden smoke suddenly exploded in the air, and the lazy smile on his lips was so beautiful and dazzling.

My hand was empty and I lowered my head. The little goldfish disappeared along with the fish tank.

Without thinking about it, I tightened my veil and hurried to the place he said before.

There was no one in the depths of the alley, only an old tree.

There are still some dirty child footprints and messy feathers scattered under the trees.

MC: Strange, has anyone else been here?

With many doubts, I hesitated for a moment, but decided to wait for him.

I don't know if it's because he just offered to help, or the lingering sense of familiarity that always lingers in my heart.

But how could he and the assassin I met in the dark alley be the same person?

There was a sound of footsteps in the quiet alley. I turned around and held my breath nervously.

MC: Youㅡ

However, it was not the boy who appeared in front of me, but a few tall men in black. The leader saw my face and sneered.

Man in black: Finally found it.

I took two steps back quickly. I didn't know where these people came from, but I felt the strong murderous aura in them.

MC: Wait a minute! Did you admit the wrong person?

The man in black didn't listen to my excuse. He raised his hand to his companion behind him, and showed a dark color around his waist without warning.

MC: A Talisman? Are you a Master?!

The black-clothed man's eyes dimmed suddenly, and I realized that I shouldn't be so reckless. He knew that I had discovered his identity and would only want to kill me even more.

MC: We.... Let's talk first, in fact, I am also a master of the hermit, and I just joined yesterday. Everyone is a colleague...

Man in black: Stop talking nonsense, come on!

–

Read Part.TWO here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc west moon #west moon #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translation #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro

[archbishop-bloody-vixen]

Ghoulettes HC

Cause it was 3am and it’s been percolating in my brain.

Mist 

The first female ghoul to join the band.

Naturally serious and has zero fucks given to many of the band’s shenanigans. Gurl can make Imperator look like Paris Hilton’s party persona.

Sister to Rain. Protective of little brother and also taught him how to play bass.

Dew once made Rain cry and Mist spent the night trapping Dew in a thick fog that he couldn’t escape from until he begged forgiveness from Rain.

She also can play the pipe organ and honestly prefers playing that to bass. Whenever there’s a classic Black Mass, she’s in charge of playing the Satanic Classics. If she’s feeling generous, she will also perform for your wedding.

Joined only for one tour because she finds it tiring. Also cause some fanboys kept sexually harassing her and/or gatekeeping her skills. She paid them back by ensuring they all suffered from a case of drowning. One particularly awful asshole drowned in his bed. His corpse was said to resemble the ones from the American Ring movie.

She, Omega and Alpha are one of the older ghouls summoned to the Church. Back then she was call the Ghuleh. She adopted Mist once the church started summoning more and more female ghouls.

Tends to keep to herself.

Her love life tends to be a major mystery and is often subject to gossip by bored ghouls/church members. 

She helps P1 whenever there’s a dry season by making small rain clouds of plants that are particularly water hungry.

They both can sometimes be found playing chess, draughts and backgammon with Imperator while nursing Blood Wine/Beer (her recipe).

She also gives Aether some tips on how to wrangle the more bratty ghouls (IE: Dew). 

She and Omega has a little bet going on one which outsiders still can’t figure WTF they are waging about. Alpha knows but he refused to reveal what the bet is all about either. 

Cirrus

The tall one.

Dom on legs though she’s the more playful type of dominatrix.

Has a collection of keytars and some rare orphica which was basically a precursor to the modern keytar. Has one signed by Beethoven himself. 

One of her hobbies is pole-dancing. She and P3 can sometimes be found practicing their pole-dancing skills. 

If you’re someone seeking to learn how to be a dom but is too scared to ask Papa II, she’d be willing to teach you. But she will ask for payment upfront - mainly desserts but her favourite if Mist’s Blood Beer (human flavoured).

Loves, LOVES the Japanese Takarazuka Revue. She hopes that one day the band would tour in Japan so that she can visit and see them. 

Can be found at the children’s nursery, making toddlers and kids fly for fun. 

Taught Rain how to punch, Dew how to twerk (wrongly but sshhh no one tell him) and can Tango with Swiss. 

A dancer if you can’t tell. 

Is an expert with the whip and I don’t mean just the ones used in the bedroom but the bullwhip as well. She can flick out a candle’s light from 20 feet away with her whip. 

She can also do the same with her tail.

It’s called Lightning Tail by some. 

She may or may not have a thing with Mist - but since the latter is very tight lipped about her love life no one may know.

Although Mist did gift her an Urumi which was basically whips BUT WITH SWORDS. 

Cumulus

Smol.

She’s basically a fun treasure wrapped up in ghoul form.

Sexually a lot of people who fucked her will end up as confused but satisfied.

Chaotic Good.

A lot of people (and ghouls) tend to think she’s basically a shy person who doesn’t like the spotlight. The ones who know basically LAUGH at this.

Girl personified shy on street, freak in sheets. 

She can pull the whole shy sub and demanding dom at the drop of her hat. Has many lovers because of this. 

Is a book lover and is one of the few ghouls to have a second apartment in the abbey just for her books.

Is an opera singer. She and Mist are usually called to do the Classical Black Mass. Claimed to have once had an opera show off with Maria Callas and it ended with a tie. The Maria Callas Estate refused to acknowledge it had happened. 

Loves to think the best of people and was is called a ball of Sunshine by one of her lovers. 

Likes to make people smile and blush. Is said to be one of the few people in the Church to make P2 and Imperator laugh like they were children. 

Despite people thinking it’s Rain, Cumulus is actually the youngest summoned ghoul. 

Has a mean left hook. 

Is a Sailor Moon fan (along with P3 and Rain). Whenever there’s a Comic Con she’d cosplay as Sailor Moon. Don’t worry she has obtained permission for it from Imperator to do this. 

Actually visited the moon cause of this but only once cause the magic needed exhausted her so bad, she had to bedrest for a month.

Worth it though.

#the band ghost #headcanon #mist ghoul #cirrus ghoul #cumulus ghoul #ghoulettes #ghost the band headcanon

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 7 Sakamaki Reiji [TRACK 2]

Original title: 幻に囚われて

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 7 Sakamaki Reiji [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: It definitely is interesting to see both the similarities and differences between Ruki and Reiji in this scenario. Both of them were aware of the Paraselene Syndrome, but Reiji actually chooses to reveal his identity as a Vampire and even sucks the MC’s blood. Poor MC-chan must be so confused because she doesn’t even remember who this guy is and suddenly there’s a pair of fangs in her neck. Press F in the chat. 

This track was requested by an anonymous user. If you would like to request a translation, please contact me through IMs or drop an ask!

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

Track 2: Caught in an Illusion

You slowly wake up.

*Rustle*

“Seems like you have finally awakened...How do you feel?”

You ask him where you are. 

“From the looks of it, this is the Sakamaki manor in the human world. ...It may be an illusion, but it is definitely well put-together.”

You ask if this really is an illusion. 

“Yes, exactly. You are most likely affected by the Paraselene disease at present. Right now we find ourselves admist an illusionary world created as a direct result of said syndrome. I heard it also goes by the name of ‘Paraselene Syndrome’. (1) Have you ever heard about this illness?”

You shake your head.

“...I see. It is believed that Paraselene Syndrome occurs with demonic creatures from finding themselves entranced by the Paraselene, a double-layered moon shrouded in mist.”

You seem confused.

“You are human, but your heart once belonged to that of a demon. In that case, it does make sense for you to have caught this disease as an exception to the rule.”

You tell him you don’t understand. 

“Haah...Judging by your behavior, you must have lost your memories after all, have you not? Let me ask you just in case ー Do you know who I am?”

You shake your head.

“Just as I thought. ...Haah...When I suspected you might have gotten infected with Paraselene Syndrome, I already mentally prepared myself for this moment. However, hearing you ask me ‘Who are you?’ up-front like this, it really does...

Haah...My name is Sakamaki Reiji. We once met in this manor, and have been living together ever since.”

You ask if this really is all just an illusion. 

“Yes, exactly.”

You wonder if you can get out of it.

“Well, I suppose so. Let me explain our current situation to you step by step. As I mentioned before, the trigger to this all is your Paraselene Syndrome. The illusions brought forward by this disease do not only affect the patient, but involve its surroundings as well. I heard that an effective way to cure Paraselene Syndrome has yet to be invented. However, I have read documents in the past which claimed that patients were able to break free from the illusionary world by regaining their memories of the past.”

You tell him you should try and find a way to regain them. 

“Yes, just as you said, right now we should prioritize finding a way to bring back your memories. If things go well, both of us might be able to return to the real world. Fortunately, this place bears a strong resemblance to the manor we once lived at. What do you think? It would be ideal if there was something to trigger your memory.”

You look around the room.

“I suppose things will not go that easily. ...For starters, if some random junk were capable of bringing back your memory, yet my face did not trigger anything at all, it would render my very existence useless. (2) Haah...Well then, let us do this. Would you care to play a little game with me? There happens to be a chess board laying around here.”

You tilt your head to the side, frowning.

“Yes. Do you have any experience playing chess? Let me tell you in advance, you definitely should have, but I am asking whether you recall or not.”

You shake your head.

“I see. ...In that case, I shall explain the rules one by one. It is a very easy game in which you simply make your move according to the rulebook.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Thud*

“Are you sure that is the move you wish to make?”

You become hesitant.

“No, it is not a problem. If you are fine with it. Fufufu...”

You ask if you can change your mind. 

“Yes, I do not mind. I intended to give you a handicap all along. Go ahead. You can think as long as you’d like.”

*Thud*

“Hooh? I see...I do believe this move is much more thought out than the one you made previously. However, if you intend to take said route, I will...”

*Thud*

“ーー Checkmate. I win once again.”

You pout.

“Haha...Please do not seem so down. A 3-game losing streak is still nothing. Going off your past record, that is.”

You raise a brow. 

“Yes, to sum it up, across all games we have played together in the past, you have yet to win against me up to this day.”

You seem shocked.

“I called chess a simple game earlier, but that statement only holds true on a surface level. (3) In reality, you need various strategies and a good sense of judgement to decide how you shall corner your opponent using the 16 pieces to your full advantage, as well as read your opponent’s mind and block their moves. One may show improvement through training, but in your case, I feel like that might be a little difficult.”

You ask if he was aware of this. 

“...Yes, I am obviously aware of the fact that you are bad at chess. Since ages. However, I wish you would not get the wrong idea. I did not offer to play chess as a mere ways of bullying you.”

You raise your head a little.

“What do you think? Is there anything you can recall? It can be the most trivial of things. In the past, we played chess like this countless of times. Furthermore, the hole Subaru punched in that wall over there, or the darts board Ayato abandoned halfway, they should be familiar sceneries as well. Even the fleeting frustrated expression you would show after each loss, followed suit by your request to have just one more match, all of it feels so very nostalgic to me. They are precious memories with you, which I could never forget.”

You feel bad for not being able to remember.

“...Haah...No. You do not need to apologize. That eerie moon is to blame for all of this. As well as myself, for failing to react sooner despite knowing about the existence of the Paraselene Syndrome. You must regain your memories no matter what. Right now, we have no other choice but to try out various methods.”

Reiji gets up from his chair and walks over to you.

“At present, you have completely forgotten about me. In which case, you should no longer be aware of said reality either. That just earlier, I held you in my arms like this...”

He pulls you closer.

*Thud*

“...And sucked your blood from this slender nape of yours. Haah...”

He tries to bite you, but you start to panic.

*Rustle rustle*

“...!? ...I am a Vampire. And to us Vampires, you are a special existence who holds first-rate quality blood. ...Seems like you do not even remember as much.”

Your eyes widen in shock. 

“Then please recall, how in the past you would offer your blood to me out of your own free will.” 

*Rustle*

“Even if your mind no longer remembers, your body should nevertheless. Accept my fangs, and the sensation of having your blood sucked.”

Reiji bites you.

“Mm...Mmph...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Please keep still. Soon enough you will no longer feel the pain. I’m sure you will, just like you would in the past...”

He continues sucking your blood.

*Gulp gulp*

You push him away.

*THUD*

You ask why he is doing all of this. 

“...!? ...Why? That should be obvious, is it not? I want you to regain your memories as soon as possible! You wouldn’t want to remain stuck in this illusion forever either, do you? In that case, you should listen toーー”

You protest. 

“...What do you mean?”

You explain yourself.

“Do you mean to imply that...you can’t trust my words?”

You nod.

“Hah...Fufu...Never did I think a day like this would come...A day on which such words fall from your lips...”

Both of you go silent for a few seconds. 

“Just as I thought, we cannot remain stuck in this world. Even if it means I have to be a little forceful, I simply have to make you remember everything as soon as possible. For that sake, I believe this is definitely the easiest and fastest way...!”

Reiji grabs hold of you once more.

*Rustle rustle*

“I told you to behave, did I not? If you fight back, it’ll only spread open the wound.”

You immediately stop resisting. 

“Very well. Well then...Endure it like that. Understood?”

You remain quiet as he bites you once more.

*Gulp gulp*

“Mmh...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Yes, just like that...Just empty your head...and simply entrust your body to me...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Mm...nn...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

You grow weak in his arms.

“...!? What seems to be the matter? Hang in there!”

You lose consciousness.

“...Haah...So you’ve fainted, huh? Seems like I had a little bit too much. How careless of me...What on earth am I doing? Even though I should know that keeping my composure is more important now than ever. ...Without her memories, she is wary of everything right now. Now that I am no different from a stranger to her, it is only natural she would have a hard time believing my words.

That being said...It definitely weighs on me.”

He carefully lays you down onto the floor.

*Rustle*

Reiji sighs.

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

“...!? This sensation...Ugh...!! These...strong dizzy spells...There is no mistaking it...It is the exact same as back when we were caught in the Paraselene’s illusions...! In that case...There’s a possiblity that everything will...go back to norma...”

He collapses.

*THUD*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー  

Translation notes

(1) In Japanese, they use both 幻月病 or ‘gengetsubyo’ パラセレネシンドローム or ‘paraserene shindorōmu’ interchangeably. Since the second is derived from English, the difference doesn’t show in the translation so to avoid repetition, I translated it as ‘Paraselene disease’ initially. I will continue to use the second term for the remaining of this translation though. 

(2) 私の立場がありません or ‘watashi no tachiba ga arimasen’, literally means ‘there is no place/position for me’ and refers to a sense of uselessness. 

(3) Literally he says ‘I was only talking about the rules’, referring to the fact that chess may look easy on paper, but there is much more that is required to be good at chess. 

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers paraselene #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

[ineloqueent]

wuthering heights

Lucy Boynton x Reader

synopsis: you say i killed you— haunt me, then.

warnings: allusions to homophobia

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i hate wuthering heights. that book was so dull that i nearly lost my mind. but... it has its moments. and so i’ve written this, inspired by a line from wuthering heights. @mazzell-ro​ , my fellow lucy stan, this is for you <3

⭒

1847

It had all started when Miss Lucy Boynton had come to stay at Wuthering Heights, your place of residence.

Miss Boynton had come to visit your cousin, Joseph, who was an expert on some historical matter or another, one which she herself was studying. Joe collected photographs, and apparently housed in his collection one which Miss Boynton had been searching for.

The day the carriage had rattled up the drive, you had stood at the window and looked out over the moors, at the cold, the mist, and then— a light. The glint of golden hair in the flickering gas lamps mounted outdoors upon the brickface of the manor, a shimmer of diamond upon her throat, wide blue eyes staring into the darkness.

Your introduction to her had been all but non-existent, a smile and a short hello, before Joe had dragged her away to the office, to show her, finally, that which she had been searching for.

You’d followed them quietly, but then thought better of it as their enthusiastic discussion of the new steamship network reached you. Recent history was not your forté, and you were not about to let Miss Boynton’s first impression of you be that you couldn’t carry a conversation.

So, you’d spent weeks upon weeks admiring her from afar, as she and Joe pored over photographs and books, played the odd game of chess, took tea in the dining hall.

Sometimes, Miss Boynton would encourage you to join her and Joe, but you always shook your head, declined quietly but politely.

You liked to imagine that her face fell every time you neglected to take part in their company. Oh, if only her face had fallen, then you would have known that you had meant something to her.

But you chided yourself for being ridiculous— how could you mean anything to her when you avoided her at nearly any cost?

Thus, after nights of tossing and turning, you elected to accept her invitations.

Her laughter was crystalline, both in sound and in beauty, and made you think of windchimes. She was elegant, too, and you were awed by her sophistication, how she moved fluidly, like she was made of water, rippling and sparkling beneath the light.

There was rarely any light here, for the fog blotted out the sun, and all those who lived on the moors were prone to a seasonal sort of depression— of which you understood all too well.

But with her, Miss Lucy had brought the sun, and you found yourself more greatful for her presence with every day that passed.

Soon enough, you longed to spend time with her, without Joe tagging along, to admire her quirks and conversation on a more personal level. But you could not find the courage to ask her to spend time with you alone, for why should she? Why should she want to?

Still, it irked you when she left your presence, because you longed for her friendship, for her to turn that warm smile upon you and provide clarity with her blue eyes. She seemed well-learned of the world around her, and you wanted to share in that knowledge.

It was the day in the library that you realised the true nature of your longing.

Lucy had been drawing a connection between a series of historical events, using pins and string, as Joe read to her different dates to add to the map, providing her with coordinates every now and then. You’d never seen a police investigation take place, but you imagined that the paperwork might have looked something like this.

You almost asked, in jest, whether they were investigating a homicide, but then stopped yourself. You knew Joe’s sense of humour would have appreciated the remark, but you worried Miss Lucy might have been displeased by your amusement. She was always poised and orderly, and, when not in the company of yourself and Joe, spoke only when spoken to. She did not seem to be a stickler for rules, necessarily, but rather as though she simply did not care to share her opinions with people whom she was not well-acquainted with. She kept to herself, and in a way, that was admirable to you, because you knew many people who could not keep their opinions to themselves, and spouted them frequently without anyone having requested them.

So, in the library, you rested your chin on your palm, and your elbow on the armrest of an overstuffed armchair, staring into the flames of the fireplace as Joe and Lucy chattered on.

“No,” Lucy was saying. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“It is,” Joe insisted.

“No,” said Lucy. “Those coordinates would place the coalition formation at the same spot as the photograph of ______, which isn’t right. I know for a fact that nothing in the ledger overlaps.”

“Well, that would mean that this here number has is something other than a three, which cannot be true, because that is most certainly a three.”

Lucy had been leaning over the table in order to reach the coordinate, and your eyes glanced over her slim figure as she straightened up.

She placed her hands on her hips.

You wondered what it might be like to be the one to touch her there, to skim your hands down her sides until they reached her waist, crested the soft curve of her hips. Or perhaps to place a kiss to her delicate collarbone—

With a start that lost your elbow contact with the armrest, you came to a realisation: your admiration was not simply one of aesthetic appreciation, but one of romantic intention.

A weight settled in your chest.

Lucy’s voice brought you back from the abyss of imagination, and you flushed upon recalling that it was her you had been thinking about.

“No, Joseph!” she laughed, a hand rising to obscure her mouth. “That’s an eight, not a three. You do need spectacles, you do!”

Joe blinked, raised the paper to his face, lowered it again. “My god, I do,” he muttered, and Lucy laughed again, cast her eyes around the room for someone to join in her humour.

But other than Joe, there was only you, and so that was where her eyes fell.

She stopped laughing when her eyes fixed upon yours, which was really a shame, given how utterly lovely she was when she laughed. She was always lovely, yes, but the sparkle in her eye always grew with her amusement.

You were ashamed to say that you simply stared at her when she looked to you.

Her smile slowly faded as her gaze lingered, and, uncomfortable, you folded your hands in your lap. Your face burned.

She winked.

Your mouth fell open. Lucy only turned back to Joe.

Maybe you’d imagined it. Or misunderstood it.

You started leaving the places she haunted before Joe did, so that there was never an accidental chance of being alone with her. You didn’t know what you might say if such a thing were to occur.

You spent the next two weeks recalling and analysing the incident. But a wink was a wink, was it not? On some level or another, it was a mischievous gesture, intended to convey a secret between two people, like a confidence, like solidarity.

When you spent time in the library, you began to gaze at her, to see if she would do it again, but she never did.

But there were other things.

She would call you to the table with the map for no reason at all, to ask you if a length of string was linear enough, or to have you confirm the coordinates which your cousin apparently struggled to read. She would hold out her hands to you, and take yours when you came close enough to her. She’d point something out on the map, and, coincidentally, looking at it always required you lean closer to her. Having stood with her for a while, as Joe talked, she would loop her arm through yours, and you would seize up at her touch, until her trailing fingers placated you with soft tracings over your hand.

You always left the room with a frown.

It had begun to eat away at you, how casually affectionate she was. Perhaps she was just one of those people, those people who was frivolous with their intimacy, shared it amongst their acquaintances like boiled sweets. But you didn’t think so. Afterall, she rarely spoke to people she did not know, so why should she be affectionate with strangers?

It had to mean something.

It reached the point where your hands grew loose and trembling when she smiled at you, and when she entered or left a room, you held your breath, fearing that she would speak to you in those dulcet tones of hers, or even worse— fearing she would change her opinion of you, and begin to ignore you entirely.

Then came the fateful day in which you fell asleep by the fire, and were awoken by Lucy, who knelt in front of you, a hand resting lightly upon your knee as she spoke your name.

“Darling, it’s nearly midnight,” she said. “Joe and I have just finished, and I think it’s time you got to bed, anyway.”

Silently, you cursed the lateness of the night.

How could you have allowed yourself to fall asleep, to find yourself alone with her, despite all of your efforts to avoid being so?

Hastily, you went to rise from your chair.

But her hand had not left your knee.

“Lucy,” you said, and she blinked, as though she had not realised.

“Sorry,” she murmured, curling her fingers back into her palm as she stood.

You straightened your skirts, though they were not in need of straightening, your heart pounding heavily as you found Joe absent from the scene.

You made a beeline for the door, and were halfway through the lightless hallway when Lucy’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You bit your lip. You did not turn around.

“Yes?” you said stiffly.

You heard her sigh softly. “Sometimes, I get the most horrible feeling.”

She was silent, and you pursed your lips, looking down at your pointed shoes. “A horrible feeling?” you inquired, your voice more of a grumble than you had intended.

“Yes. I get the most horrible feeling, as though… As though you do not like me, or something. As though you detest me, that you cannot stand to be in my company, as though it would kill you to spend another moment with me.”

You said nothing.

“Y/N?” Lucy spoke again, and you swallowed, because from the volume of her voice, you could tell that she had drawn closer.

The fire crackled in the background, and you wondered dimly how long you had been asleep for.

In public company, such as when the neighbours came by, or people from town visited, it killed you to gaze at Lucy, because she could not return your lingering look without drawing suspicion. Of course, no one guessed at romantic affiliations between two women, because they only saw what they wanted to see. And by god, you knew that they thought your love a sin. However, it was still a risk to stare at her in the way you did.

But you loved her.

“You kill me,” you whispered, and turned.

She was standing right before you, had followed you into the hall. The fire was a backlight to her, and she burned at the edges of your vision, like staring into the sun. But she was ghostly pale in the darkness, and so she was not the sun, but the moon.

Slowly, she raised her hand until her fingers caressed your cheek, and you held your breath, frozen beneath her touch, though every inch of your skin seemed to burn.

Her lips parted as her eyes flicked to your mouth. “Then haunt me,” she murmured.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then in a breath, she kissed you.

Her hands were on your neck and her body was flush against yours, her fingers winding through the hair at the base of your head, her lips sound, her touch upon your skin as light as the brush of a willow tree.

You held her close with your arms around her waist, void of free-will as you melted into her, enraptured by the tenderness of her mouth, the softness of her skin, and the warmth of her.

In the dark, she was a flame, and you were the air in which she burned brighter, in which she flourished. The parting of her lips was intoxicating, and the feel of her fingers in your hair spilled heat through you, the burn of her touch far more powerful than the darkness which surrounded you both.

She ceased in her kiss, and brushed her nose against yours, her breath warming your skin.

You opened your eyes to find her glittering in the dim firelight which leaked from the library. And when she smiled gently, you found yourself suddenly grateful for the lateness of the night, for the blackness of the hall and the moors themselves.

These things were meant for the dark.

#tina's writing #lucy boynton x reader #fic

[doctor-rainbowfoxey]

Renegades Chapter 4 Part 3 - The Inbetween 1

Link to previous parts

All of a sudden our intrepid mutant hero finds himself tumbling head over heels down a precipitous forest path. A minute later Scott realized he didn't have feathers, little clawed feet nor a beak. The shock left the mutant momentarily disoriented as he had grown accustomed to being a bird, however all things considered he was glad to be human. A bit later noticed that he was thankfully not naked, though the costume he found himself wearing looked and felt like a variation of his old one. It even had a working visor.

The next question to cross off on the bucket list, having answered what, was to locate the resolution to just where in blazes was he located in space, let alone time. Huh. This one was going to be a pickle alright. The best answer he could figure from the look of things was a trippy nightmare forest fit for a horror movie or acid trip.

This did not bode well nor put the battle-tested mutant ease. He’d almost rather be back in that dank cold prison cell because that was predictable, controllable, not safe but doable. In this, this allergenic hell, anything was possible. Every glowing eye winking, mysterious growl or squeak made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Every flutter of unknown origin, every darting, shifting shadow made a muscle in his neck twitch and his hand itch to activate his powers.

“'Twas Brillig

And the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe”

Abruptly Scott hears singing and the playing of what sounds like a harmonica nearby. Voice sounded like it was saying words but he’d be damned if he understood them. Sounded like gibberish. Fancy gibberish of the kind Hank would appreciate but that Scott never had the time nor desire to dabble with making heads nor tails of growing up in the x mansion. Give him angles and axel grease or at least chess rather than such Victorian froufrou.

“All mimsy were the borogoves

And the mome raths outgrabe”

As the sing continued Scott was considering changing his verdict on whether this singing was simply harmless froufrou as each note seemed to cause the forest to light up and become even more unsettling unearthly and alive.

“Looooze zomezing?”

Said a voice behind him. Scott’s nerves had caused his energy to flair against the ruby quartz that contained them leaving a trailing as he turned sharply.

“Ach du meine Güte!!”

Exclaimed whoever or whatever was up in the tree, sounding like almost fell out of the tree from being startled but they had nonetheless managed to vanish. That voice sounded familiar. Kurt? It may not be his Kurt, his heart twinged at the thought of another dear friend long lost. He forced himself not to dwell and to continue his train of thought. It may not be his Kurt but they may be able to help and scaring away a potential ally was not going to help him get out of this blasted forest.

“No, come back! I’m sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

Said Scott as he tried to be as non threatening as possible, as he approached palms up and open in a beseeching gesture. Suddenly he saw a faint outline appear, pink stripes and agrin solidifying from the void.

“Ah fery vell! One moment bleaze.”

This otherworldly version of Kurt blew on silver harmonica causing Scott to start a bit at the discordant sound.

“Oh!”

Kurt himself seemed momentarily startled by the sound but after a few more notes gainfully proceeded regardless clearly eager to have an audience for his odd song.

“Arh zecond chorus!!”

“'Twas Brillig

And the slithy toves”

Scott took a moment to get a better look at the mutant now that he had revealed himself completely. Form wise the man was the twin of Nightcrawler however instead of the Saphire blue of his Kurt this one was a deep purple fading to violet. Breaking up the purple fuzz was ribbons of stripes of fuscia. He was wearing an outfit that seemed some blend of a medieval and stage magician's outfit. Form-fitting black tights capped off with white-tipped booties, a white ruffled shirt with excessive chest ruffles over with a black suitlike tunic. All of which was topped off with a velvetine black hat. This cat-like Kurt gestured charmingly along with the music most especially with his tail.

“Did gyre and gimble in the wabe”

“Kurt you're a cat…?

Says Scott with mild astonishment. The lyth man looks up at his comment and gives a quick frank reply of his own with a tip of his hat.

“Ein Cheshire cat, Mr. Zummers. Zird chorus! All mimsy were the borogoves

And the mome raths outgrabe”

“Oh no no thank you, Kurt, it's a swell song honestly, but I was wondering if you could help me out?”

Kurt having first been a bit put out to have his song interrupted perked up at having a request made of him.

“Most cerdainly mein friend. Arh! Inquire avay.”

Said Kurt with a suggestive purr and lushes languid sweep of his tail.

“See I’m not sure where I am and I was wondering if you would know which I ought to go?”

Said Scott hoping for a resolution and a resolution to remedy his persistent displacing befuddlement as of late.

“Zat depends on vere vu vant to go, mein freund.”

“It really doesn't matter as long as …”

Replies Scott.

“Zen it really doesn't matder vich vay vu go.”

Seemingly on a whim and to Scott’s surprise the cat-like man leaps from the branch and vanishes before he lands. To his confoundment Scott saw footprints appear around him to his relief Kurt appeared a moment later.

“I zuboze it vould help if vu knew vo... or vat vu vere looking for?”

Scott thought for a moment, everything was pretty foggy but after a second. Out of the mist materialized a vision of dark hair and stormy grey eyes. Logan last he could remember he was upset about something, a flash of deathly pale skin and glowing red eyes floated to his mind, Sinister. Sinister was involved somehow but how, of that he was certain.

“I’m trying to find my universe's Logan. I think Sinister is up to no good and we need to stop him.”

Replied Scott earnestly after a moment of pondering.

“Zinister!! Nein nein nein zorry”

Kurt vanished as he leaped from our hero in a panic, clearly having had a run-in with the evil man himself. Scott heard the sounds of something Kurt size leaping from tree to tree and could hear the branches shaking.

“Kurt!! Kurt we defeat him together! Don’t go!!”

Pleaded Scott. He can’t do this alone. Why do people always do this to him? It's like herding cats.

“Zorry Zorry mein freund!! I can’t let him get me! Not again!”

Scott attempted to leave the path and to follow the dexterous man but creeping vines ensnared him. Before he could process anything he was falling into a river that was not wet.

#scott summers #scogan #x-men #kurt wagner #xmen #xmen fanart #x men #fanart #art #logan howlett #alice in wonderland #renegades

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Materials (V)

The caves behind the waterfall.

The stream burbles over the rocks, and in the middle is a large stone pool, round, reflecting the moon. The water is very cold to the feet, and the cave gets brighter and brighter, filling the room with a ghastly orange light.

Maria is tired. The world is very large, and it contains more things like the cave than she can keep track of. It's hard to remember now that there was a time when there was just her and the strange world. Hard to remember that there was a time when she was young and had believed that everything had a cause and an end. The cause of this particular cave, of course, was her brother. She has a mental block against talking about him, a block that she doesn't think is entirely silly -- he was such a mysterious person, he was responsible for so many ideas and things that were, in part, his own inventions, and she still doesn't feel she knows the full extent of his strange nature.

As they enter the cave, Maria can see that her brother's face is very close to the walls, as if his real body is trapped in the caves, unable to speak and run. There are a few patches of fog, which he must be able to sense. The light above has become orange and dim, and a mist has formed on the floor, glistening and growing denser. But the walls continue, and after a few more steps he runs to the end; and she can't bring herself to go farther.

Maria's muscles are very tired -- she has been walking for the last several hours since she woke up, and now it is late in the evening, so she doesn't know how far she has walked. The walls of the cave are not as bright as she remembered them. She is walking along one of many passages, and it doesn't matter if she is at a great distance, as long as she keeps her eyes open. The walls are covered with the same kind of dark stone as before, and here and there along the walls are patches of orange light. It looks like her brother is near the end. But then he stops, in front of the wall he always stops, and looks at something directly in front of himself, and then at her.

"Lying to yourself is more interesting than the truth," she says. She doesn't know why, but the words come out with such force that they seem to give her brother a new presence, some sort of new understanding of his own. He stares at her, almost like a stranger.

"Do you really think these walls hold a person trapped," he says, "in the same way that the stream and the waterfall held the person I once was?"

"I wish I knew you better," Maria says. Maybe if she knows her brother better -- well, what if this were such a person? He's the one person she knows for certain she doesn't know. Is it easier, to live like this, always being in the dark and knowing that you will disappear if you open your eyes?

Her brother is not talking to her, and he moves a little, in accordance with an instinct or impulse. With a movement not of his own free will he makes several steps forward. The orange light has turned black and is now darker in color, and the mist has become a darker black, glowing more intensely. She sees her brother was moving away from the wall, towards the opposite end of the passage, into some unknown world. She does not understand what is happening.

"Is something wrong with the world, Maria?" she says.

"I don't think something like … the stream and the cave represent the truth of the world," her brother says in a cold, quiet voice. "I don't think there is any truth of the world. I think it's much simpler than that. I think that everything which exists in the world and the entire world is a single, very simple idea, and that idea is simply the idea of the perfect way to play chess." He walks towards a piece of stone, and the light above grows brighter, as if some power above had turned on something, so that it could get more data for the endless game of chess. His face, which used to be so strange, now looks completely normal, except when he speaks his face looks flat and inhuman.

"And that idea, for me, is one that is not the same as chess," he says. "It is just the same. You see, that idea is not just a complicated idea, or a beautiful idea; it's not about how to play chess, but the actual nature of playing chess. Playing chess, in itself, is nothing. Just a game, as you said. Something to play for a temporary pleasure until you move your pieces somewhere else."

Then he turns around. He looks at her directly. His face is now entirely normal.

"Do you see the stream, Maria?" he says.

"Yes," Maria says, "I do. You just followed it."

"But you don't know what it is," he says. There is a sort of urgency in his voice, and the moon, which used to almost hide behind the mountains, is now almost completely bright and can be seen right through the cave directly in front of her. "You don't know what the stream represents, Maria."

"I know what you are thinking, Maria," a voice says. "You and the stream represent the same thing, whether you know it or not."

She turns to see what her brother is looking at. It's the stream. She remembers it from many years ago, on the day everything looked different.

"It used to be such a big river," the man says. The moonlight makes his skin look white, and she can't see him well, but his skin glows very bright, an unfamiliar color, and she feels her skin prickle.

"Do you know how things used to be, Maria, before you were born?"

She shakes her head, staring at the stream, in which she can see nothing.

The man's skin begins to change, becoming something else. In his right arm he grows a sort of sleeve, which covers part of his arm. Then, part of his right shoulder also grows a sleeve. In the same way the other sleeve grows from the floor directly behind him, and then grows into several arms. The stream becomes a small lake. At first it takes a few seconds to form, but then it is complete, and the moonlight is reflected from its surface.

The man in front of the stream is now a kind of giant, or a young boy. He is perhaps ten or twelve years old or so. His skin is very glowing, as a result of the power of the ideas in the cave above. But somehow there is something different about his eyes. They are very deep and serious.

The lake is filled with some reddish-looking stuff. The red is not bright or intense, and it does not seem dangerous. But still Maria is careful. She takes a step forward and looks at the man, and another step. She looks at his body, which has gradually changed. It has been so long that she begins to think of it as her brother's, and walks towards him.

And she sees him, there on the floor, covered in the glowing, flowing red stuff. He looks up at her, and she almost steps back, but she doesn't. It's exactly the face her brother used to have. He is about her size. There is something different about his face, there is a look on it that she cannot remember. She remembers that face with the dark glasses, the days of fog, the time when she followed the stream. But now the old face look is here. This is a new face look. It's a powerful, serious look.

She looks straight at him.

Everything in her body shivers.

She can't move. She's terrified.

Maria's eyes fill with water.

The water becomes a reddish fluid, and she can see her brother everywhere, the person she used to be, that person who used to be a person. And the stream is all around her. It is so real she can see the tiny hairs on her brother's face. She can see her brother's eyes and lips move. There are things moving down in the stream.

She can see the words her brother says. They are very loud and clear in her mind. They say: "There is no place you can be safe in; there is nothing you can be safe in. This is the only way to be safe, and yet even this is not enough. Even this, although it is all that you can ever be safe, is not enough. I am here with you; I am here. Go back and look at my face in the stream, and my words in your mind. When you do, you will get a new kind of happiness and new kind of sadness; and you will know that I am with you, that I am with you. This is the only way that you can be happy to be alive."

"I believe you," she says.

"I see the face of a man in the stream, and the words he tells you. He stands in the stream. This, the only way there is to be safe, can only be found in the body of the stream. Go back and look; and you will not be able to find the way until you have done so."

And she does. The

#original fiction

[cbraxs]

Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 13

Izzy didn’t pay attention to Cleo teaching her friends how to play Senet on the floor in the center of the room. Not that she needed to; her mom taught her years ago. At least she’d have some people to play with now.

She sat on her bed beneath a wide window overlooking the bay. Her eyes gazed at the dark water; the glittery flecks dancing along the surface reflected the gorgeous stars above. She'd seen stars before, but they were always a welcomed view (she loved New York but all the light pollution ruined casual star gazing. She'd tried searching for her constellation; Andromeda. It was hers on account she had a collection of moles on her back that resembled the star formation.

A sigh escaped her lips. Izzy’s mind drifted towards what happened in the boys’ room. She had no clue what she did to upset Jodie. She didn’t say or do anything, at least nothing significant she could remember. Was it because Izzy was an outsider, someone who shouldn’t get to time travel and didn’t belong with the trio?

A flick to her forehead broke her out of her thoughts. “Earth to Izzy. Helloooo? Anyone home?”

Fred stood in front of her with his usual goofy grin. Somehow he made his way to her bed without her noticing.

Izzy scooted over and made a spot for him to sit. “Sorry. I was… thinking.”

“No kidding, you were more spaced out than my brother’s eyes.”

“You don’t wanna learn to play Senet?”

Fred put his hands behind his head leaned back. “Nah, it’s pretty much chess with extra steps.”

Izzy tried to laugh, but it quickly fizzled out.

Fred frowned. “What’s up?”

She hugged her knees to her chest. “I think Jodie hates me.”

“What gave it away?”

Ow. Sometimes Izzy wished Fred wasn’t so blunt. “Y-you think so, too?”

“I mean… she’s kind of a mean girl, but she’s not that bad. I wouldn’t worry about her, she’s still getting used to me, and we’ve been friends for years!”

Izzy smiled. “Thanks, Fred. Still… I’m worried about what her and Joe were talking about.”

Fred shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. They’re just trying to fix The Book.”

“You’re probably right– wait, they found The Book?! When?” At Izzy’s outburst, the others turn to look at the two of them. Cleopatra screamed.

Arms snaked around Izzy’s throat and waist and dragged her towards the window. Izzy yelped. She grabbed the arms of her kidnapper and flipped them will all her weight.

It worked a little too well. The momentum dropped them both on the floor with a thud. The whole room wobbled like a spinning top. Thankfully, Fred was there to help her up.

Her cloaked attacker stood, glaring at them beneath the hood, seemingly unfazed. They didn’t cower, even when outnumbered.

“What’s going on?”

Joe rushed into the room, Jodie right behind him. They stopped in their tracks once they noticed the cloaked figure.

“Some creep tried to yank Izzy through the window,” Sam explained.

Cleo stomped towards the hooded would-be kidnapper, despite Freddi warning her not to. “What is the meaning of this, villain?!”

The figure reached into their sleeve and pulled out something small and wooden. In an instant, Fred tackled the assailant to the ground. The item flew out of their hand and shattered to pieces on the floor.

The hood fell and they all could see the person underneath: tall nose, proud dark eyes, and she looked like–

Cleopatra gasped. “Berenice!”

Izzy’s heart sunk. “What?”

“Crocodile!” Sam shrieked.

Where Berenice’s wooden trinket fell, stood a crocodile, slimy from the Nile. A normal crocodile was bad news enough, but this one must have had a gym membership because it was easily twice as big. It hissed and snapped at them with razor-sharp teeth.

Sam, Freddi, and Samantha, who were the closest to the beast, yelled and scrambled away, almost toppling Joe and Jodie. The crocodile’s eyes glowed with an unnatural human hatred, but despite this it wasn’t going after any of them. It was like a yapping dog on a porch: it insisted you watch your step, but was incapable of making you do so.

Izzy looked at the wooden pieces and the croc, and slapped herself for not putting two and two together sooner. She rushed to her friends. “Guys, it’s not–”

Berenice kicked Fred off her and grabbed Izzy’s ankle, sending her a quick trip to the floor.

Izzy drew ragged breaths, trying to get some air back into her lungs. Berenice pounced on Izzy and dug her knees into Izzy’s back. Izzy clawed at the arm shoved into her neck, but the more she fought, the more Berenice put weight on her.

Berenice held something above her, and Izzy stilled. She thought it may be a weapon… until it glowed gold.

Then suddenly, the weight flew off her. A thud, followed by Berenice spitting curses at Cleopatra. Cleo had lunged past the crocodile and threw herself at Berenice.

“No!” Berenice wailed and reached for Izzy. “He wanted you! He–” The item Berenice held glowed stronger and brighter than before. It enveloped the two of them before dying in a pop! And the royal sisters vanished without a trace.

The others stared where the two once were. The room was deathly silent compared to the chaos before. Joe was the first to speak. “What the–”

The crocodile snapped at him, and he screamed.

Izzy jumped up, “I-it’s okay! Watch.”

She approached the crocodile, ignoring the pleas of her friends to stay back. The animal turned on her, but Izzy simply walked through the crocodile like it was made of mist, kicking it apart like a sandcastle. “It’s an illusion.”

Freddi’s brow furrowed. “So this whole time it couldn’t have bitten one of us?”

“It still could’ve, but it wouldn’t have hurt.”

“There are bigger things to handle,” Jodie said. “Like, I don’t know, how Cleopatra just disappeared!”

“I-I–” Izzy rubbed the back of her bruised neck. “Of course that’s more important, but I had to let you know the crocodile wasn’t serious...”

“It’s fine.” Joe shot Jodie a stern look and stepped towards Izzy. “Thanks, Iz. Are you alright?”

Izzy nodded and slowed her breathing. She hadn’t noticed she was nearly hyperventilating.

A barrage of footsteps thundered down the hall. Two guards burst through the door, one Izzy recognized from earlier, Ahmose.

“We heard screaming!” The other guard said.

“Great reaction time, guys,” Fred muttered. Samantha elbowed him in the ribs.

Ahmose eyes searched around the room. “Where is princess Cleopatra?”

“Berenice took her!” Freddi cried.

His curious looked turned into a glare. “Berenice was here and all seven of you thought to alert no one?”

“It’s not our fault!” Samantha said.

“Yeah, man,” Fred added. “It was all so fast! She had a buff killer crocodile and a glowing piece of wood and then they crossfaded out of here and–”

Sam rubbed his temples. “You’re not helping, you’re not helping!”

Even if Berenice were here,” the other guard said, “how are we to know you weren’t working with her. You foreigners showed up just as she escaped.”

It was fair to be suspicious, Izzy thought, the timing was not in their favor.

“We wouldn't do anything to hurt Cleopatra. You’ve got to believe us,” Izzy pleaded. She looked from Ahmose to the other guard, trying to communicate her honesty through her eyes. The one guard wasn’t convinced, but Ahmose’s glower softened by a fraction.

He shook his head. “It is not up to me to believe you or not. That will be for the Pharaoh to decide.”

~*~

The guards carted the seven of them to the Pharaoh to plead their case. They begged for him to believe them, they tried to reason with him; if they meant Cleopatra harm, then why go about it in this way? But the Pharaoh was incorrigible. He refused to listen to anything they had to say. Fred tried to argue he had diplomatic immunity, but that only served to make the Pharaoh angrier. He had them sentenced to prison until he decided their fates.

Their jail cell was little more than a dank, damp hole in the ground. The air was dusty and hard to breathe, as if they were inhaling 20% dirt. The stone bed against the wall made the floor look like a better sleeping option.

There weren’t any bars covering the hole and obstructing the starry sky above. The view was more haunting than alluring now that they were at least twenty feet below the surface. Despite this, Fred was trying to climb his way out. He’d get about a third of the way up before losing his grip and falling– usually on Sam– scattering prison hole dust every which way.

“Can you stop that!” Jodie said after his third attempt. “It’s not going to work.”

“You got a better plan?” Fred asked.

Apparently not, as Jodie turned troubled eyes on the floor.

“Let’s face it,” Sam said. “We have no way out. If the Pharaoh won’t have us tortured for answers, then we’ll definitely be executed.”

“We could be drowned, impaled, beheaded, burned alive...” Freddi listed off.

Izzy rubbed her arms. “Burned alive?”

“That’s the one that bothers you?” Fred asked.

“The ancient Egyptian’s actually didn’t burn many people as a punishment,” Samantha explained. “They thought that destroying a person’s body would rob them of an afterlife.”

Joe threw up his hands. “Could we not talk about execution methods for a minute and figure a way out of here.”

“Wait a minute.” Fred turned to Izzy. “You can levitate us out of here, right?”

Izzy twisted an earring. “I-I don’t know if I can. I’ve never levitated myself, let alone another person, before. Maybe I could do one at a time, but we’ll get caught doing it that way.”

“Would it be easier with two of us?” Joe asked.

Izzy nodded, considering it. "Jodie, do you think you could help? I think we can do it between the three of us.”

Jodie twisted her hair around a finger. “Magic like that isn’t really my strong suit.”

“So you can’t do it?” Fred said.

“I didn’t say that,” Jodie snapped. “I just don’t do it. Kind of like how you have a brain but don’t like using it.”

“Oh, yeah? Well you don’t like–”

Sam, Samantha, and Freddi stepped between them before they got a chance to really go at it.

“I think you can do it!” Izzy said. “I mean, Anna told me the women in your family are good at magic and you’re Joe’s cousin after all. He picks things up pretty fast so I’m sure you can do it, too.”

Jodie smiled at Izzy, which completely caught her off guard. “I guess I can give it a shot. What do I have to lose?”

“Okay,” Sam said. “So we get out of here. Then what? We need to find The Book and save Cleopatra. Who knows how history will be rewritten if something were to happen to her.”

“At least we know where The Book is,” Jodie said. “I left it in the guy’s room.”

“Good going,” Fred snarked.

“If I had brought it with me, the Pharaoh might have confiscated it. Prisoners don’t usually get to keep their belongings.”

Izzy frowned. “If you had The Book the whole time then why didn’t we warp home earlier?”

“It’s busted,” Joe explained. “Jodie and I were trying to fix it.”

“How–”

“That's not important right now,” Jodie insisted. “Getting out of here and saving Cleo is.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Sam asked. “We have no clue where Berenice took Cleopatra or why.”

Freddi wrung her hands. “Um, isn’t it obvious why she took her? I mean…”

She didn’t have to finish her sentence for the implication to be loud and clear.

Samantha shook her head. “If she wanted to kill Cleo, she would’ve done so when she had the chance or attack her later when we were asleep. Besides, Berenice wasn’t after Cleo. She was... after Izzy.”

Izzy’s fist clenched. She knew Samantha was right even before she confirmed her fears. But why? What would Berenice want with her? How would she even Izzy? No, Berenice said, “He wanted you!” So she was working for someone who wanted Izzy? For a blissful second, she thought it might be her father, but then a nastier possibility hit her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Izzy said. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. “First thing’s first, we gotta get out of here. It might be easier if we all held hands.”

“Alright.” Joe offered Izzy his hand. Izzy reached to take it but Jodie was giving the two of them a weird look.

Izzy retracted her hand. “I-it's probably better if we spread out in a circle. To disperse the magic.���

“Oh.” Joe rubbed the back of his head. “Makes sense.”

The three of them spread out evenly among the group, with Fred on Izzy’s left and Samantha on her right.

“Now what?” Joe asked.

Izzy smiled a bit, despite their dower situation. “Now, it’s time for boring meditation.”

~*~

As Berenice feared, the man flew into hysterics upon seeing she hadn’t brought the correct girl back to him. He stomped like a petulant child who hadn’t gotten his way, waving his arms as he ranted.

“What is this, you incompetent buffoon? How on Earth did you manage to bring the wrong girl here? Did I not give you specific instructions? You had one job!”

“I had your girl!” Berenice. “But this,” she motioned in disgust at Cleopatra, bound with rope in the corner, “pushed me away once I had her. I can try again–”

“No. By now, the palace will be on high alert. The Pharaoh’s men will be–”

“They all will be looking for me!” Cleopatra yelled, as if she had any power to intimidate them while tied up. “My father will find you and we will have your heads!”

The mad man rolled his eyes and shot a green beam of light at Cleopatra with his cane. She slumped to the ground, limp and still; proof she was still alive was the shallow movements of her chest as she breathed.

“This is not the end,” Berenice said. “We can use her for leverage. My father will easily trade her for a worthless priestess.”

The man opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. He paced the floor, rubbing his chin. “Those warp runts are foolish enough to try and tell the truth,” he said to himself, “which will no doubt land them in prison. We need to get her before they’re all surely executed”

“What is this girl to you?” Berenice asked. “Is she... your daughter?”

Berenice winced at her impulsive question. But instead of the usual anger and yelling, the man was silent. He gazed at nothing with an amused look on his face.

“My daughter, eh?” His laugh made Berenice's stomach turn on itself and she wished he'd never saved her.

The man pulled an odd object from his cloak: a circle of wood the size of his hand, the decorative strings across it formed a spider web-like pattern. Three ostrich feathers hung from the bottom.

He grinned wickedly. “I can work with this.”

#time warp trio #timewarptrio #fanfiction #fanfic

[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 4

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: Nothing bad as such ;) A/N: HUGS! Just because I miss hugging people. Tags are open: just ask or reblog.

4. The Speed of Pain

…   Reader  …

Sitting on the bed, you’re completely absorbed by the gorgeous light show outside the window where gazillions of stars are drawn and condensed into a rim brighter than anything you could have imagined – at least compared to the orb the width of your thumb inside. A black hole. The term is familiar but that’s almost the only knowledge you have of the phenomenon, and most astronomers would probably kill to be in your place right now under the guise of “knowing more” or for the sake of “research”.

With a view as mesmerizing as that why would you bother turning when Loki enters and leaves by the whoosh of the door? You don’t.

Minutes drag by until a detail registers in your mind. Did the locks activate? Torn between hope and the nauseating confidence that you’re imagining things now, the few steps to the access panel are further away than ever before. Hands shaking, breath superficial, you reach up to poke the dark screen.

What the -?! It takes all your strength to keep standing as a couple of blue symbols present themselves, each with an obvious option. The reasonable thing would be to expect that it’s a trap and Loki it waiting just on the other side of that door to catch and punish you for trying to leave. On the other hand...maybe luck actually exists.

It’s unreal when the door slides into the wall to reveal a way out. Never has painted metal looked more inviting or as liberating, and you almost admire it for too long, barely slipping out as the gate to freedom begins to close.

The interior of what you since have learned to be a space ship had appeared dismal and claustrophobic when you arrived.

“Freedom.” The shakingly whispered word is all you can muster for now.

Looking around, your minimal knowledge of space travel tells you that you’re in a sort of cargo hold with cabins lining the sides towards a metal staircase leading up to the right at the very end. To the left is...nothing. Well, there’s a sort of ramp slanting up against a wall but even though you instinctively know that’s the real way out you also know it’s usual considering that thing called “space” outside, reducing the options to just two.

“You’re not ‘sposed to be out.”

The warbled, deep voice makes your cheek sting with the memory of pain. It doesn’t take long before the cool metal stops your frantic backpedalling, making Arox-or-whatever-he’s-called grin. Like a hyena just without the sound. The only way is around him.

“See’f you can catch me, then.”

As stupid as he’s repulsive, the man charges headfirst towards you, leaving you just enough time to slip out a piece of song that conjures a dense fog. Judging the distances by the sounds only, you press yourself to the wall just in time to avoid a collision with him – it does sound like he collides heavily with the metal you’d been backed against just a second ago: first a hard smack and a grunt, then a sound like a sack of lour hitting the ground.

Move, c’mon legs! Thankful for the support of the wall, you pass the closed door to your former confines as you aim for the edge of the fog and a clear view. At least there isn’t much to trip over, but you know you have to move fast or the mist will start spreading before dissipating as the magic fades, so your hands slide along the wall, feet gingerly probing the metal grate of the floor for fear there should be an unevenness.

In the haze, the blue lights of a door panel are eerie, ghost-like, and you can’t help but be comforted by the clear view as you access the room despite what you actually see. The layout is identical to yours the place is still less spartan thanks to the pile of leathery, inhumanly big clothing in one corner and the neat array of weapons on the table. What must be guns of the space variety flank some vicious knives with jagged handles and symbols etched into the blade. Tempted to take one, you also realize that they’d be as big as swords for you...not to mention that you have no idea how to fight with a weapon of that kind.

Quickly deciding to move on as the fog is thinning, the next two cabins flanking the staircase are empty which brings you to the one at the very end of this level. This gotta be Loki’s. Already, the little hairs on your body are standing, your feet itching to move away and you have to force yourself to walk up to it. Let him be upstairs. Or something. Blue lights glare accusingly at you, but no one complains as you have a look inside the place. Empty.

A few steps, the brush of a finger, then the door slides shut and you lock it behind you before getting to work. Confident that you don’t have much time, you ignore the muzzled, silk sheets on the bed and the clothes dangling from hanger in an open cabinet. No, it’s the personal trinkets and the row of old-looking books that are of interest to you – at least until you realize you can’t read a single word and the thingamabobs are nothing more than writing tools, pretty drinking glasses, and something akin to a chess set.

“If I were an insane killer alien...where would I hide anything personal?” you mutter as you keep searching, now head deep into his closet.

“Tsk tsk.” The sound makes you freeze with the fingers around a leather belt. “Haven’t we learned our place yet, little pet?”

...  Loki   ...

Green and black shimmer in the shadows as [Y/N] straightens her back. “Leaving the door to my prison unlocked wasn’t an invitation?”

“A test.” He can’t help chuckling at the sight of muscles working in her shoulders and arms as though she’s wringing her hands.

Her breath trembles. “One designed for me to fail if I did anything.”

From your point of view. Loki, however, has learned much more about the stubborn creature now than during the last fortnight by watching her actions. Unseen at the top of the stairs, the scene between the attempted escapee and [Y/N] played out to reveal more of the nature of the magic in her blood and her tenacity. It had even surprised him when the weapons were left untouched.

“As fun as this has been,” he smiles, “it’s time to return to your own...cell.”

A lesser man, a mortal, would not have seen the leather belt whipping towards his face as she turns around but being a god, Loki catches it in the air even before the air cracks at the force behind the attack of the insolent girl. It stings his skin, but the eyes widening with fear in her face is a balm to soothe the worst of wounds.

“Pray tell: what did you intend to accomplish with that?” He tugs sharply and secures the entirety of the belt, and still she doesn’t answer. “Was it a blunt attempt to prove your strength of spirit even under less than favourable circumstances? A, shall we say, display of force of will?” Stepping close to her, the Jotun slips the leather around her neck – spicy, cold fear fills his nostrils immediately. “Or did you simply not...think?” One wrong word and Loki will cut it short.

Pupils have dilated with fear. The lips caught between her teeth. Still the jaw is set stubbornly as if to prove that regardless of every thought (if any) before the rebellious action has a strong foundation in which to grow. Loki will savour the thrill of breaking her slowly, watching her crumble to be rebuild in his image. Or to die.

“Do as I wish, mortal. Heal the priestess and I may let you go home.”

[Y/N] hesitates, brows furrowing as she tried to determine the odds and figure out where the catch lies. “Liar.”

“So you’d rather let the priestess suffer a slow, painful death than have a chance at freedom?” He can see the protests boiling within her even if she stubbornly refuses to retort. “I suppose we’ll see in a few days’ time.”

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #Loki MCU #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Loki Laufeyson x you #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #mcu Fanfiction #Mcu Fanfic #loki fanfic #Loki fanfiction #reader #reader insert #fem!reader #Gifted!reader #Slow burn #post-Battle of New York #Timeline spawned in Endgame #Alternate timeline #from enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #Loki enemies to lovers #Loki plotting #plotting #revenge