#*ominous chanting* part three part three part three part three | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gassyandnasty · 6 months ago

Text

The Jock Formula - Part 2.0

JOINING THE FRAT: THE HAZING CEREMONY

Josh and his friends invited me to their frat. I've never been to one, people say that some are pretty chill and others are dangerous, but regardless of that, I don't belong in the chemistry lab anymore.

So I packed my things and went to the adress they gave me. It was night already, the place was pretty loomy, and the house was all dark. I wonder if they forgot about inviting me. But I knocked anyways.

Knock

"Come in" a group of guys say ominously, as if they were expecting me behind the door. It was open, so I came in.

The hall was lit only by candles, as I saw a lot of shadowy and BIG figures all over the place, but three stood in front of me.

"Welcome to your hazing ceremony, Drew." Josh starts.

"The tasks will decide if you stay with us or not." Sal completes

"If you are a true jock, or an eternal nerd." finishes Jongho.

They were looking at me dead in the eye while all of this scene sent chills up my spine. All broke down when Sal started to laugh, and the other boys followed.

"Dude, you almost pissed yourself!" Sal mocks, and patting my back.

"This never gets old!" Jongho says in a laughing fit, high-fiving some other guys in the back.

"So... this dark hazing ceremony is a joke, right?" I try to break the ice.

"As much this scene was a joke, the hazing is real, pledge." Josh says, like a boss.

_________________________________________

They said the first task would be easy, as I was led to the kitchen, being met with a table STACKED with hot dogs.

"Sit, buddy" Jongho says on the other side of the table. He was a pretty big and buff guy, I mean, all of them were, but he was specially bulky, and I was about to find out why...

"To stay here, you have to beat the CHAMP!" Jongho said as he punched his pecs like a gorilla, as all of the guys howlered and chanted his name.

"This task is simple as I like things to be, who eats the most hot dogs, win." Jongho said, as Josh rang a bell and he started to DEVOUR the hot dogs. This dude was like a monster, I swear I saw him eating two with just one bite. I was a scrawny guy, like... yesterday? I was satisfied with a BigMac, how on earth could I beat him?

I knew that competitive eaters used a technique to swallow the most they could storage, so they wouldn't get sick. Something like flexing abdominal muscles, or your jaw... but then I rememberd...

Fuck this nerd bullshit.

And went FERAL on the hot dogs.

I can only describe flashes of this deed. Sausages everywhere, desperately looking for a cup of water, Jongho was chewing so loud it looked like a dog, and when I noticed, my belly was full, and the table was empty.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP!!

The end of the match was announced by Jongho filling the room like a dragon with a MONSTRUOUS belch. I looked around, and all of the guys were shocked, even Josh.

"Easy, haha" Jongho said, taking his shirt off. His muscles gave space to the food, so when the pat his belly, it jiggled.

I was a little drowzy. I only remembered eating the most I could, then I felt a hand on my back.

"Are you alright, dude?" Josh asked.

"How... many?" I asked, with my belly full.

"Did you think we were counting? That was wild! One of the best eating matches this frat ever saw, right guys?" Josh announced, and everyone howlered with him, chanting my name and Jongho's.

Jongho got up and approached me. "This dude was the only worthy opponent I met. I declare Drew VICTORIOUS!" Jongho lifted my arm in celebration, and all of that force dislodged the gas that was dying to explode out of me.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP!!

That felt so good. And what was even better? Hearing all of the frat chating my name.

But there were still two tasks...

_________________________________________

I went to another room that was dark and already stinky.

"Yo, we are up next. Congrats haha never saw anyone eating like Jongho." Says Sal. He was sat having some snacks on a table. He was one of the guys I heard most of. Many girls and boys swoon over him. When I got up close, I grimaced: onions, anchovies, milk, beans, and the list went on with the most unpleasant food you could think of.

"Sit." He says, while eating an entire can of anchovies. "This is the nasty gas challenge. We have to eat the most disgusting food and see the one who brews the worst gas out of it."

I was skeptical of this. My nerd brain thought that was impossible, but that stink was already making me pass out, and I heard that their gas was really disgusting, imagine with all of this, it would be- UUUuuuUURRPPP

A wave of a DISGUSTING belch hits me. "Haha, wake up! Didnt you hear what I said? You have to eat this." Sal says, blowing the stench on me.

*COUGH* COUGH* "Okay... I was just thinking..." I was about to say when he slapped me.

"Think less." Said Sal sternly. And I couldn't agree more. I was only able to eat all of those hot-dogs when I stopped to racionalize the situation.

I did it. Mixed beans with anchovies, ate it all down with a glass of milk. It felt bad, but it felt wild too.

"Good haha you learn fast, fella. Now we have to put it to test." He says, patting my back.

"Test?" I ask.

"You didn't think I was going to judge, right?" Sal claps his hands in a signal, while I hear a bunch of guys coming upstairs.

"LET GO OF ME! YOU JERKS!" I hear some whining too.

The guys break down in the room bringing a whimp in their arms. They put him in a chair and tie him down.

"So, this little fella right here was caught spying on us. Trying to take pictures, a total perv!" Sal says, while took some polaroid out of this guy's pockets and showed a bunch of pictures of their windows, focusing of their butts, muscles.

"IT'S NOT FOR ME... I... I WAS GOING TO SELL..." he was about to say when Sal interrupted.

"So... this perv is going to be the judge pf tonight's nasty gas challenge!" Sal exclaims as this guy watch in horror.

"So, would you do the honors, Drew?" Sal challenged me.

And yeah, that disgusting meal and all of the hot dogs were doing a number on my stomach... poor little perv.

I bent over so we were face to face, I only patted my belly and let it rip.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPP

This one felt specially good, as it rumbled deep within the depths of my stomach. What was even better? Watching this perv cry and gag by the smell. Lucky it wasn't on my face.

*COUGH* *COUGH*

All of the guys laughed, mocking the perv as he had to endure my gas.

"Good one." Said Sal. "Now watch the boss." Sal took my place in front of him and started to swallow air. He swallowed very deep, and forced out a NASTY ROAR on this guy's face:

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOO9OOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

I swear I could even see this guy's hair blowing, as he GAGGED on this cloud of gas. Sal finished by blowing the nasty bits on his face and grabbing the guys head.

"Take a big whiff of that you little perv." He said with a smirk while the guy gagged in his hands.

"Wow, you are totally owning him!" I say in admiration. It's nice to see that whimp be put in place.

"That's how you gotta do, Drew. No mercy, c'mon!" Sal says, patting my back.

I had to do something bold. My guys were starting to stir up, so I had an idea. I picked some of the pictures the guy was carrying and held one that was showcasing a guy's pecs and pits. I took my shirt off and I could catch the guy thirstily looking at my muscles. He was really a perv.

"So, taking pictures only? Why don't you get a taste of those up close?" I mock, grabbing the guy's head and burrying on my pits. The smell was unbearable, almost as bad as my gas, cause I saw the guy trying to get free.

"LET ME GO!" He screams into my pits while I rub all of my sweat on his face. I wouldn't let this guy go this easily.

"Let go? Oh, I will let something go!" I taunt him as I pick him off my pits, and when he thinks he will take a breath of fresh air...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP!!

Damn right, that was so nasty. He took it all right on his face, all the stink, even the bits of food leaving my mouth because of the force of the gas. This guy was in true hell.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA" All of the guys boomed in laughter, I think they liked my display of dominance. With a glimpse, I catched Sal winking to Josh in approval.

*COUGH* *COUGH* *COUGH*

"YOU GUYS... *COUGH* ARE GONNA PAY FOR IT!" The whimp tries to say while he gags on my stink.

I see Sal doing the same as me and picked the first picture he could find. "Oh, look at this!" He showcased the picture to everyone. "It's my ass!" They all laughed. "Nice pic, perv, since you wanted to see it so bad, I'll let you have a nice cheekful of my buns." Sal said, teasing. He indeed had a very nice ass, toned, round and bubbly, almost eating his shorts.

Sal turned around and bent over the perv's face.

"NO! NO! NO! I know what you are going to do, please! I won't do this anymore!" The perv begs, while Sal's huge cheeks are only an inch of his face.

"Do you know what I'm going to do? But I was only showing you the ass you wanted to see so bad..." Sal smirks. "Take a look on it... I know you want to..." Sal jiggles his ass a little, and the perv is almost hypnotized by it. "Bury your face in it..." Sal says, and he does it.

All of the guys grimace as the perv goes face-first on Sal's ass, and with a smirk, he says:

"I guess you really knew what I was going to do, perv." Sal says, grabbing the back of his head and really making he go deep in it.

"NO-" The perv was about to say, but it was a really bad idea to open his mouth...

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!

The deepest, loudest and nastiest fart I've ever heard. Sal was red for forcing it, scrunching his face to get all of the stink out. And it was a LOT, of stink. Some guys opened the window and others even ran. When Sal was finished, he

"Aaaah, enjoy that, perv" he sighs in relief as he gets up. The little guy's situation wasn't good. His face was sweaty and squashed as he passed out, and his eyebrows were gone by the brunt of the gas, Sal completely destroyed this guy. Sal looked behind and laughed: "Oops."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" that ensured laughter from all the room. Josh, Sal and Jongho approached me where the air was fresh.

"Very good." Sal says.

"Good? That was AWESOME!" I answer in enthusiasm. "But... I didn't win."

"Don't worry, you captured the spirit and put that creep on his place. That will make you as good as we are. For me, you are in, but Josh gets the next task. Haha, try not to die." Sal says proud of me, leaving chills up my spine.

________________________________________

They said I should be careful, but I don't think there is any challenge I couldn't beat at this point. But there was he, Josh was waiting me outside the house in his car. I don't know much about those but it looks expensive. He really got it all, all the girls, the looks, the frat, the team, this car, a total bastard. How I wanted to be like him.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To your final task." He answered.

It was late at night in a stranger car, he was certainly up to no good, but I kept quiety all the way. He was taking a familiar path, if I'm not mistaken... to the local library.

"Library? You know I don't fear math like you guys do, right?" I ask.

"That's what we'll see, ex-nerd. Stop making questions and follow me." He answered sharply.

I followed, and we came in. It was totally empty, only a few lights on, I don't even know how he had access to that.

"Now hear me out. There's your nerdy friend, if you can bully him, you're one of us. If not, I will take care of you both." Josh threatens.

I pondered. George was really my friend, and I'm finally like this because of him. But all I wanted was this power, force, can't go soft now, I have to-

WHACK

"Ouch, what was that for?" I ask Josh as he smacks my head.

"Stop thinking, will you go or not?"

I just make my head tall again, and approach that poor nerd.

"Want some studying tips?" I smack my hand on his table and have a seat.

He gasps. "Andrew... so you're one of them now. After betraying me. Never thought you were this jerk. What are you hear for? Flaunt your muscles?"

"Actually..." I take my shirt off and start bouncing my pecs, display my huge biceps, and my ripped abs. "And I got more..." I turn around and showcase my back and blades. I can hear Josh laughing from afar, as George is pissed in front of me.

"That formula was only for making you muscular, not idiot! Stop that!" George snaps. "What now? Wet willies? Wedgies? Stinkfaces? Youre a dissap-"

"Since you are asking for it..." I say as I drench my finger in saliva and rub it deep in his ear.

"DISGUSTING!" He grimaces as he has to suffer from my wet willy. I had enough of George's drama. Gosh, now I understand why they bully these nerds. They are so annoying!

"STOP!" He complained.

"Hmm, wet willy... check. So next, you were saying wedgies, right? Now here we go!" I say as I yank his underwear up with full force.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!" He SCREAMS in pain as his underwear is snatching his parts down there.

"I WILL GET MY REVENGE ANDREW! I WILL FIND A WAY TO TRANSFORM YOU BACK!" He threats. He can try haha.

I drop him on the ground and he catches his breath, red from all the pain.

"By the way, it's Drew now, nerd." I turn around and bend over. Those hot dogs and that food are still making a number on my stomach, and since he asked for a stinkface...

"Incoming..." I grab the back of his head and bury into my butt. I can feel my cheeks molding over his face, and his screams are muffled by my now fat ass. This is the life. I grunt and push, and then... boom.

PBPBPBPBPPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I force out a CRUEL fart right on his face. It rumbled and echoed through the halls for a long time, and I held his head so he could get the most stink out of it.

"Aaaaah, get a taste of your formula, George, thanks." I mock as I leave him gagging there.

"Am I in?" I approach Josh as he was proudly watching everything.

"Welcome to the frat, Drew!"

#male farts #jock #dumbing down #male biceps #male burp #thejockformula #male pecs #muscles #belly k!nk #hypnosis #fart story #burp story

395 notes · View notes

madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer! main character

Chapter 012: Vecna’s Curse

Eddie is scared to commit to you? That’s fine. You have a lap dance to treat Henry to anyway — in the infamous red set that EDDIE bought for you.

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013** , 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

somewhat smutty = * , smutty = **

word count: 4k words

NSFW — blindfold kink (*cough* henry), lap dance, grinding, moaning, henry is the whimpering type, shy girl using henry to get off, eddie’s RAGING jealousy

TAKE IT AWAY, JAMIE 🥁🙌🏼

I Put A Spell on You (Jamie’s Version)

“The hooded cultists chant…” Eddie narrates. “Hail Lord Vecna. Hail Lord Vecna. They turn to you, remove their hoods… you recognize most of them from Makbar. But there is one you do not recognize…”

— excerpt from Stranger Things 4: Chapter One: The Hellfire Club.

♡

Eddie is too busy playing D&D with the boys to have any idea what you're up to. It’s just what you wanted, though. Means everything is going according to plan.

“I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.”

Excitement brews within you as you slip on the red DEVIL WOMAN set from Nocturna. When you're done, Max helps to straighten your hair, maintaining it with a generous amount of hairspray, while Chrissy helps you set the final touches of your makeup into place.

"What's up with the blindfold?" Max inquires, nodding towards the piece of cloth tied around your wrist.

"Part of my act," you explain ominously. "I plan on using it on Henry for the first part of my set. He's a...sensitive guy, to say the least."

"You are way too good at this," your sister shakes her head in disbelief, brushing through your hair one last time.

"Intense emotions spark creativity," you shrug, admiring the vixen that is you in the vanity. "No man is leaving unscathed tonight."

It all rings true. Tonight, you have the power. And all of Hellfire is going to know it.

"Well you look absolutely soul-snatching," Chrissy hoots as she takes a good look at you. “You’re gonna have him on his knees.”

You bite your lip in anticipation. " Who? Eddie or Henry?"

"Both," she shrugs. "But since we're on that topic, I just know Eddie is going to come crawling back."

The three of you share a malicious giggle with one another, thinking about all the ways Eddie is going to crumble, seeing another man enjoy you in the set that he bought. He had his chance to commit to you, but now he has to face the consequences of what happens when he doesn't man up on time.

The dressing room door opens. By instinct, you turn to see who it is. In struts Nina, counting the dollar bills in her hands as she just emerged from doing her set at the tip rail.

"Oooh look at you go!" you whistle. "They're loving you out there, mama."

"I'm literally so shook," Nina raves, tucking her bills away into her bag. "This is my best night thus far."

When she's all squared away, Nina makes her way over to you and envelopes you in a warm hug. "You look so fucking sexy! Go kill it out there, girl."

You smile at the compliment, heart fluttering in a room full of girls' girls.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you respond to her, rubbing her back with the utmost adoration. "You too."

Chrissy helps you don your cloak, shielding you from giving away the trick you have up your sleeve. After one final check in the mirror, you're ready to put on a show.

"Ready," you announce with a mischievous grin.

“Go get him, tiger,” Chrissy pats your back.

“You better stop the things you do, I ain’t lyin’. No, I ain’t lyin’”

Your heels click with intention across the cool floor of the club as you strut towards your victim. He's smiling and laughing with all his friends, unsuspecting of the stake you're about to, figuratively, drive through his heart.

"Good game, gentlemen," Eddie concludes as he and the boys wrap up their campaign. "I’ll see you all next week for Rise of Kas. Try not to die in that one, yeah?"

You watch as the younger guys scatter to prep for the rush. Steve and Eddie stay behind to clean up the area. When Steve sees you, he offers you a tender side hug before issuing a kiss hello to your forehead.

"Hey you," Steve smiles.

"Hey," your eyes gleam up at him. "Didn't know you play D&D."

Eddie's eyes travel up to you the moment he hears your voice. He freezes in place the moment you meet his gaze. If he reacted this way to just you with your cloak on — exalting and apologetic — you can't even begin to imagine the look on his face when he sees what you have under it.

But until time brings you to that point, you settle for feigning dissastisfaction while he attempts to strike up a casual conversation.

"He doesn’t, I was just showing him the ropes,” Eddie chuckles, nervously resting his hands at his sides. “He’s doing great though.”

You nod absentmindedly, diverting your attention to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington instead.

"You look beautiful, Hargrove," your boss attempts. "More than usual, I mean. Absolutely stunning.”

You can tell he’s already regretful about how he worded things a couple nights ago. The guilt on his face is like no other. But with the guilt comes those eyes. Those charming eyes that will get you to fold every time. Tonight is the exception.

"Thanks," you utter emptily to him.

"You got main stage tonight?"

"No, I've got a semi-private dance," you respond as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Semi-priv..." Eddie tries to figure it out. "What do you mean by that?"

"Hello, hello," a familiar voice greets you guys.

Right on schedule.

Henry makes his way over to you all with the biggest grin on his face. It's weird seeing him in outside clothes. He's dressed in a white t-shirt and black leather jacket, tight black jeans, and black combat boots. The blonde deity flashes you a seductive look.

"Days bleeding into one another again, Creel?" Eddie questions. "You're not on today, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I know," Henry shrugs. "I have a dance today with one of our special friends."

"Oh shit!" Eddie exclaims, going over to give him a celebratory fist bump. "Chrissy agreed to give you one?"

"No, not Chrissy," you chime in. "Me!"

Eddie's eyes widen. Steve's eyes widen.

"Holy shit!" Steve says. "Creel is actually getting a lap dance! That's so out of his comfort zone."

Steve's arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you in front of him. You feel his hardened cock sneak up against your ass.

"And from Shy Girl too?" Steve's voice deepens, rasp factor at an all time high. "You're in for a treat."

"Wouldn't expect any less," Henry blushes.

Henry’s voice is soft, but there’s a hunger in his gaze. Eddie tries to conceal how bothered he is. You see him frantically scanning the club for a sort of scapegoat, a way in delaying the nightmare that is about to ensue.

“Actually…” Eddie clears his throat. “Now that I think about it, we might get busy within the hour. You mind clocking in for a bit to help Jim out front?”

Henry cocks a puzzled brow. “Jim was playing Candy Crush when I dapped him up at the door. Mans is fine.”

“Yeah, the man is fine, Eddie,” you jeer. “And Henry’s been working sooo hard, it’s the least I can do for him.”

Your boss’s jaw clenches when he realizes his plan has fallen through. He’s got no scapegoat, you're dressed like revenge overdue, and his friends are insistent on watching this dance…

He’s screwed.

"If you insist," Eddie mutters sharply. “Tip her well, Creel.”

“Of course, man.”

Eddie excuses himself but remains in the area like a fly on the wall. He scrambles around, greeting regulars with a handshake and dusting off tables, anything to look busy and unbothered by the idea that his presence doesn't affect you the slightest.

But he is seething. Troubled. He can’t read you or your next move and it’s driving him mad.

While you coordinate your routine with the DJ, Argyle escapes from the kitchen. You hear him eagerly yelp when he discovers that Henry is getting a dance, followed by a determined, "I've gotta watch this".

And now that everything is going to plan, you take a moment to gather yourself backstage.

Before you head out, Nancy meets you by the curtains with extra bobby pins that you requested. You assume Chrissy spilled all the beans, judging by the words Nancy whispers in your ears before you head out,

“Give that man hell.”

(he sounds so much like jamie)

HELLFIRE: hell·fire

/ˈhelˌfī(ə)r/(noun): The torment and punishment of hell, envisaged as eternal fire.

"Alright, Shy Girl!" you hear Argyle shout from the pit of VECNA'S LAIR. "Henry is ready when you are."

You give the DJ a nod to start the song. Let the show begin.

“YOU put a spell on ME, I’m losing my mind”

You start your set at the pole, walking a slow circle around it before beginning your dance. Though a dance for Henry only, a crowd outside your immediate circle starts to gather around. Henry is sitting on Vecna's throne, watching inquisitively while you do your introduction. And Eddie follows suit, floating around like a lost puppy.

“You better stop these things. It’s a matter of TIME🕰️”

*DING* a grandfather clock chimes, a sound mixed in by the DJ as he makes the set his own.

The crowd cheers as you strut your sexy self down the stage, smirking to yourself as Henry timidly grips the armrests of Vecna's throne.

Your gaze pans to Eddie. You watch as guests attempt to have a conversation with him in the lair, but he is just not tuned into what they're saying.

Eddie is hypnotized by you, spellbound by a curse that he got himself tangled up in. Oh, how pitiful. To dig his own grave...

“Before I hunt you down..."

Poor Eddie. He has already lost.

"...grab your chin...and kiss your lips…”

You stroke Henry's face as you walk past him, stopping behind him close enough to see the goosebumps and baby hairs rising at the nape of his neck.

You tug on the corner of the blindfold and the knot undoes itself. Henry beams up at you with his eager ocean eyes as you hold the blindfold in your hands. You bend down behind him, exploring his chest with your delicate hands, before tying the blindfold snugly around his eyes.

You check in with your friend. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m doing just fine,” Henry answers. “Thank you, Shy Girl.”

“Of course.”

“And you bring me back, I lay you down and grab your hips”

Eddie’s claimed a seat now, somewhere towards the back. Though it's harder to see him now, you just know he’s eyeing your technique intently, watching as you slither back to the front of Henry, stroking the bouncer’s face before lowering yourself onto his lap.

Henry’s breath trembles upon realization. He leans back and spreads himself across the chair so you can take up all the space that you needed to make him feel good.

He sucks in a breath.

“Breathe out, Henry…” you encourage him. “Steady breaths… there you go. Relax those shoulders now.”

Henry exhales, sinking his shoulders into flaccidity as he allows you to navigate his lap.

Eddie’s tapping his feet profusely, likely as an attempt to self-regulate. His folded palms rest below his chin as he studies you, attempting to construe whether or not this is something you are genuinely enjoying.

“And we lose all control. And before you know…”

And Eddie should know, that indeed, you are enjoying yourself… and Henry very much.

Henry's hands explore your ass now, and you use this position as leverage to grind yourself against him, your hips rotating to the shape of your stage name spelled out in cursive.

Shy Girl

A soft whimper escapes Henry’s lips as you grind, your ego inflating as he tosses his head back in pleasure.

“What’s the matter, baby boy?” you ask him. “Too much for you already?”

“No,” Henry smiles, seemingly up for a challenge. “I just wanna see your pretty face so bad.”

“Do you now?” you quip.

“Yes I do,” he nods. “Pretty please.”

“Well since you’re being so polite…”

“I put a spell on you, now you’re mine. I’ve got a hold on you, at least for the night.”

Your fingers return to the back of Henry’s neck to rid him of the blindfold you menacingly decided to tease him with. When it collapses, you meet Henry’s starstruck eyes, making sure they process you grinding your hips, exploring his chest, his shoulders, the sensitive parts of his earlobes.

“Fuuuck,” Henry whines. “How are you so good at this?”

“How are you such a good client?” you counter. “So well-behaved for me, Henry.”

Steve and Argyle make their way to either sides of him, showering you with dollar bills because Henry’s hands were occupied. They were exploring your thighs, hovering over your ass, rubbing your back while his mouth praises your every action, your every attribute, your everything.

“Goddd DAMN!” Argyle roars, incentivizing you further.

“What’d I tell you, Creel?” Steve smirks. “Ain’t she something?”

“Fuck yeah, she is,” Henry’s voice is but a barely audible gasp now. “And to think we’ve just scratched the surface.”

He tugs at your cloak pleadingly. You giggle at him, admiring his pretty puppy dog eyes that he’s put on for you.

“You know I can’t help myself when you ask tenderly if I’d dim the lights as your hand brushes me.”

Eddie glares sharply as he watches Henry continue to tug at the strings of your cloak, practically begging you to start stripping for him.

His misery is waiting behind that very garment.

“Wanna show me what’s underneath?” Henry incites.

The lights of VECNA’S LAIR begin to flicker and the classic yellow spotlight quickly changes to red. That’s your cue.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you giggle.

“And the floor swallows your clothes”

You undo the knot of your cloak that tied everything together. Slowly, to the beat of the song, the cloak slips off of you, revealing the beautiful red set.

“Oooh”s, “ahhh”s, and “wooo”s fill the air as the cloak sinks to the floor.

“And your silhouette puts on a show”

From the corner of your eye, you notice Eddie sit right up.

You try to figure out if he recognizes your set or not. But judging by his flustered face, and envious gaze, he sure does. There’s a pain in his eyes as his brows form a sullen arch. You watch as Eddie’s nostrils flare as he jams his fingers into his thighs, digging the balls of his feet into the floor in rout. He can hardly keep himself contained, he’s so angry.

And like a bull at a rodeo, Eddie sees red.

Meanwhile, Henry falls deeper into his state of arousal.

“Wow…” your patron beams. “That’s such a beautiful set, Shy Girl.”

You blush. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Henry insists. “It fits you perfectly. You did a good job.”

“Yeah,” you chime. Then your gaze travels to Eddie who is trying his hardest to conceal his jealousy. “I did do great, didn’t I?”

You allow Henry’s hands to explore all the set’s finest little details, from the little gems to the intricate seams. Henry traces your figure by following the pattern of the set, humming in pleasure to himself at the sight of you.

"That set is gorgeous, baby," Steve coos as he admires you from head to toe. "Did you pick that out yourself?"

“I can’t remember,” you turn to Steve as he rubs your shoulders. “It’s been collecting dust in my closet for a while so I figured I’d wear it today.”

“That was a good choice,” Steve’s voice deepens. “This is my favorite set on you so far.”

"Mm!" an unexpected moan escapes your mouth.

A crinkle in Henry’s pants from his thigh region rides up a nerve ending along your clit. Your mind short circuits from the sheer pleasure of it all.

Soon you forget about the lap dance and start subtly immersing yourself with friction, rubbing harder and harder against Henry’s tense quads as he lets you.

Aside from you, only Henry seems to know what’s going on.

He smirks, the most sinister grin you’ve never seen come from him before. “Find what you’re looking for?”

You nod rapidly, encouraging him to stay in place while you continue to pleasure yourself. He laughs to himself, watching you chase your high on top of him, knowing he's the one who has the reigns now.

“That’s right,” he fawns. “Take what you need from me, baby.”

"Yes Master," you say to him, knowing it's a kink of his. You feel him harden underneath you when he hears those words come out of your mouth.

Curious on whether or not he's still watching, you can’t help but get a glimpse of Eddie. And past the layers of all the strobe lights of VECNA’S LAIR, you meet his eyes.

“You put a spell on me. I’m LOSING my mind”

They’re twinkling. But not in the way you’d want. Soon Eddie's hand aggressively swoops across his eye, as he quickly wipes — what looks like — a teardrop away.

You continue to watch him as he excuses himself from the crowd, pulling his entire weight with him as he drags his feet towards his office.

It's enough to make your cold heart melt. When you see the way his shoulders sulk and how slow he seems to be walking in the busy atmosphere of Hellfire Gentlemen's Club, it dawns on you that you may have taken it too far.

Henry sees your eyes wandering, dwelling on Eddie as they become rather glazed themselves. He directs your focus back to him with his fingers at your chin.

“Why do you cry for him, Shy Girl?” Henry observes. It’s like he can read your mind. “After everything he’s done to you?"

You swallow hard as you struggle to find the words.

"...You give me fever, and drive me insane"

Fuck Eddie. Fuck Eddie. Fuck Eddie.

You've been hurt countless times but you still love with your heart on your sleeve. Why couldn't Eddie do the same?

Sure, his father was abusive and absent. Yours was too. Sure he found his mom dead at the hands of his father and drugs. That was also your childhood experience. Sure he had to grow up rather early just like you did, putting all his needs last while taking care of other family members because no one else would step up. And sure, the only woman he loved enough to marry framed him for a crime he didn't commit, with the idea of inheriting his assets on her mind. You've felt that used before too.

So what if all the people he's ever cared about stabbed him not only in the back, but in the front as well?

...just like you're doing right now.

It really dawns on you this time. You're not any better.

Fuck, you're an asshole. The answer is so clear to you now, you don't understand how you could have been so selfish before. You're both different sides of the same coin, it seems.

"Hm?” Henry tuts when you don't respond. "You think you need Eddie, but you don't. No, no... you don't."

Henry then starts to buck his own hips upwards, grinding along with you.

You feel guilty that Henry feels so good, taunting your clit mercilessly with just the fabric of his dark jeans alone. To distract yourself from all guilt crashing down on you, you start to envision that it's not Henry, but Eddie whose underneath you.

You miss Eddie. You really, really do. You miss his laugh, his random outbursts of energy. You miss how he instantly drew in a crowd no matter where he went. His presence was electricity, sending shockwaves down your body with the slightest skin-to-skin touch. You missed how his fingers felt pulsing in and out of you, curving themselves as he looks you dead in the eye because your pleasure was his utmost concern. You miss his periodic check-ins, how he wouldn't relax until you made it clear that you were okay. You miss how dirty and magical he made you feel, but ultimately how sexy and loved were and felt in his presence, even on the rocky days.

Fuck, Eddie.

"You keep me going in circles with potions and bottles... And I can't escape... I can't escape..."

Fuck, you fantasize. Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.

"I'm lost in your ways... I can't escape, baby."

There's a part in the song that gives you an 'out' from your routine. You wrap up your dance there, completing it with a tender kiss to Henry's cheek as he smiles up at you. The crowd goes wild, and Steve and Argyle continue to spoil you with ones, fives, and tens, enticed by how sultry you made everything look and feel with such little effort.

"Thank you, darling," Henry coos as he rubs your back one final time.

"Any time," you say to him. "I hope I helped alleviate some of your stress."

The boys help you collect your bills while people from all around swarm you with compliments. Eventually, Maxine and Chrissy make their way over to you, ambushing you with hugs and fangirling over your entire performance.

"You did amazing, sis!" Max squeals as she jumps up and down. "You should've seen the look on Eddie's face. Oh you so won!"

"Yeah..." you mumble absentmindedly as you search the club for Eddie. "Yay me..."

--------

It's the last call now before closing and you're helping everyone shut down their stations. You'd typically be back in the dressing room counting your bills by now, but the inner server in you can't help but stay behind.

"Hey!" Argyle speaks up. "Since all of us are off tonight, anyone wanna go barhopping?"

"I'm down!" Steve agrees. "Night's still young and that was the plan last time we were all together, yeah?"

"Shy Girl, you wanna come with?" Jonathan asks.

"Uh, I gotta count my tips and then get to bed," you say, turning the offer down. "I can close the register if you want, Jon so you can catch up with everybody."

"Oh really? Thanks!"

The group invites Max too, promising they would take good care of your little sister. Chrissy offers to be her DD, since she knows that Max drinks. All of you did, when you were her age.

"Please, sis?" Max begs. "All my discussion posts are done and I wanna turn up before midterms."

"Fine," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "But remember, if it smells weird or stinky..."

"Do not drinky..." Max rolls her eyes as she reaches to grab Chrissy by the hand. "Done deal. Thanks again!"

And soon the group vacates the area, leaving only you behind to shut the place down for the night.

When you're done closing out the register, you gather all your things to start packing up. Suddenly, you hear the locks to a distant door jingle and the doorknob turn slightly to doublecheck.

Eddie's still here.

You hear him start to make his way towards POTIONS, his worn out converse making quiet taps against the stone floor.

The natural light from the windows near the ceiling illuminates into the dark space, revealing Eddie's face and the pained expression that still rests upon it. His eyes are puffy, his demeanor hard to read.

You clear his throat at him.

"I thought you left."

"Nah," he shakes his head. "I like to stay behind for a bit sometimes. Make sure I got everything I need."

"I see..." is all you say.

"Told you that set would bring in a lot of tips."

"There you go again, being right about things," you say in a forfeiting tone.

"I'm not always right."

You can't look at him right now. Not when you've caused him so much distress and he's still choosing to speak to you. You gather your belongings and hold your head down in shame, excusing yourself from the narrative and Eddie's presence indefinitely.

"Whatever you say, Eds," you try to smile. "Goodnight."

Nervous now, you put your cloak back on and make your way out of the bar. You nod to Eddie goodnight and start towards your dressing room to prepare for your drive home.

However, it stuns you again as Eddie turns his heels and follows suit...trailing ever so closely behind you... to the dressing room as well.

🏷️ tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxps i , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck

#henry creel #henry creel smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #henry creel x reader #reader x henry creel #jamie campbell bower #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #jealous!eddie x reader #vecna's curse #i put a spell on you #001 smut #SoundCloud #Spotify

335 notes · View notes

woneuntonzz · 6 months ago

Text

𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖊 || s.mg x reader

An alternate universe of wizards, witches, and celestial beings

ꜱʏᴘɴᴏꜱɪꜱ: In the tales created by the rulers of mystic society, all the magic in the world came from a single stone —the White Diamond— and was bestowed to the world by the very first sorcerers that hailed from the heavens; the Keepers. Those tales turned out to be true. And now, an evil force seeks the the power of the White Diamond. This evil overpowered the Keepers, leaving you who had retired from being of high power. Now it is up to you to fight this evil and await the hero from the prophecy that is said to be the saviour of the world.

contains: angst, fluff, a dash of humor, slightly suggestive (just squint maybe?), combat and blood, fantastical, names and themes derived from greek mythology, angels and demons, use of spells and incantations, (an attempt) made up greek chant, telepathy, wizards and witches, and wands, extensive backgrounds

word count: 8.17k

[an: yes, there is a part two (and quite possible a three) after this week]

⛦ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ!

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 .ᐟ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You’ve laid out a new batch of freshly baked cookies, straight out the oven and still bathe your face with steam. The smell of different cooked sugars and the aroma of the dozen flavors you had to offer whistled for customers that roamed the outside world. It was a heavenly time of the day, where wizards, witches and their children came with such delightful faces that wanted nothing more but a bite of your warm and delectable pastries.

“Lemon chiffon please, five slices.” the velvet-haired witch smiles at you with her pearly white canines, holding her son’s hand. The boy was about the height of your shoulders and he wore a junior wizard badge on his blazer.

“Coming right up!” your voice, jolly and as sweet as your baked goods, made them smile. You’d watch them from the corner of your eyes as you got them five slices of the lemon chiffon cake from the display case.

The bells chimed right as you went back to them. More customers had arrived as the sunshine warmed up the sorcerous lands.

Those were simpler times. When magic was as wonderful as they’d be in children’s fantasies. It was all gone. A dark force took over what was once the land of joy and enchantment, now an ominous place where it was all shades of black, gray, and blood. Then, no one would dare challenge the sentinels that watched over the mystic grounds, but they were all gone with what seemed like a snap of a finger. Evil reigned upon the kingdom of sorcerers, the king they praised and loved was slain and his head was hung at the Fountain of Tears, the very center of the land.

You had failed to aid the sorcerers at battle, concealing the last shard of the White Diamond —what the great Ahriman seeked that would give him all the magic in the world. He’d be unstoppable. You had it with you, ever since being brought down on Earth as a Keeper. The White Diamond was the source of all magic that ran through the very land you walk on. The dawn of mystic society began with the Keepers shattering the White Diamond, releasing its magic and finding its way to the wizards and witches of today. There was no use for the Keepers to hide such power as you were already granted with eternal life and sorcery at birth. Each shard was kept between twelve Keepers —including you, and with the progression of mystic society, you left the guardian life behind, settling at a cozy spot in town as a baker. It was no ideal life for some, but for someone like you who had endured thousands of years and hundreds of wars, it was the best gift life could offer. Living amongst the mortals, you carried a shard of the White Diamond, keeping it hidden with an obscuring spell.

You knew the time was bound to come, that one vicious soul would one day seek the power of the White Diamond. It was the sole reason why the shards were kept separately. It was in the prophecy.

“Destruction awaits your haven, and a sword with the devil’s essence…”

Ahriman was once a loyal servant of the south kingdom where there was no magic. He lost his family to an unforeseeable attack that killed a few dozen families. There was no truth to who might be the culprit, but Ahriman believed it was the mystic society. Blue flames and glittered fumes, it was magic, and he was certain it was the work of a sorcerer. Yet, there is no motivation for the mystic society to attack. With the lack of reason, Ahriman was hindered with his mission to seek vengeance and was locked away by the king. He spent two decades inside that dungeon, with pent up wrath and anguish. The spirit of Belial sensed the great power he withheld. Belial was banished under the oceans of eternal agony —Keeper Cordelia’s prison for banished spirits— but his power remained puissant, as his remaining disciples chanted his name he was able to whisper to Ahriman and grant him the strength of six armies. Ahriman escaped, leaving the walls of his prison obstructed. He was to come back to the south to kill the king, but not without the power of the White Diamond.

At the occurrence of those events, you were already retired from being a Keeper and surrendered your magic to the old Keepers’ well. You blended in with the mortals, using incantations and spells, and a wand granted to you by Keeper Zephyr as a token. They were your family, and they understood your reasons. Never did they question nor oppose your decisions. You’ve served well, and it is you who gave the mystic society its mystique. You found the White Diamond from the caves of the lost tribes, and the spirit of the tribes told you to shatter the diamond, and the fate of the society would be in the hands of the Keepers. It was from those spirits that you’d be given that prophecy. Along with Ahriman’s rule, was the rise of a hero.

“Young eyes you’ll meet, and he will wear the darkness when he returns. He is the might of the society, his heart is the true yielder of the White Diamond and he will save a Keeper’s soul.”

The hero was yet to come. But you had to wait. You hoped that the hero was a sorcerer who can help you revive your magic from the well. Because after Ahriman’s attack on mystic society, what was once your sanctuary for your passions of tending to the wizards and witches, would become a desolate place for potions and wands bound to no possessors. You were in no power to resist nor attempt to fight the circumstances. You’ve had futile attempts at the well, unable to solve the Keepers’ riddles, and your magic would remain with the well’s dew. Ahriman’s soldiers would come into your shack thrice a week for duneberry serums to get rid of any wounds, relieve any pain. On occasion, they would stop by to retrieve special potions —that you had received a mandate letter for— that you could only guess was for battling and slaying the mystic beasts of the society woodlands. You’ve been given an order to brew silver hare drops at the time of Aries. It was used on weapons, splayed on blades. Once the solution is mixed in with a being’s blood, their heart will stop within the count of five seconds for smaller bodies, and twelve seconds for larger ones. You knew they visited your shop for a cruel purpose, under vengeful orders. You knew you shamed Keeper Fauna’s values. The mystic society was meant to house and protect those beasts because they protected the mystic from monsters that dare threaten the society’s inhabitants.

For years, you’ve been devising a plan to escape this land of chaos, and retrieve your powers from the well. And soon you’ll meet the hero in the prophecy and save the mystic society. It just won’t be very soon. Escaping was harder than living under Ahriman’s ruling. The sentinels became punishers, minds corrupted to serve the great evil. You did not have enough strength or magic to get past them, and they were near every means of escape. It was a seemingly impossible dream that you’ve fostered for a decade. And Ahriman was still on the hunt for the White Diamond’s missing piece. You knew by then that he had killed the other Keepers with Belial’s influence. You could hear Belial’s whispers again, that’s when you knew that he was coming back once he’s garnered all the power Ahriman had to offer to him through bloodlust. He would rise from the oceans of eternal agony with his army of undead wizards, then he would yield all the gold of Earth and call for the wrathful dragon, undefeated and fated to destroy the world, the gateway to Ragnarök, Flauros.

As long as the last shard is with you, Ahriman’s malevolent schemes will be thwarted. Nights left no room for sleep as you studied the shard. Tapping the end of your wand against its sharp edges, it creates small sparks that produce puffs of smoke and magic dust. It smelt of dew of the caves from which the White Diamond was found. The shard would illuminate when held, but it would be very meek. The first time you held the White Diamond —when it was still intact— its shine lit up the entire cave. The diamond as a whole emitted sparks of endless magic dust that landed all over your hands and all over your silk, translucent robe. The shard alone that you held in your hand at this very moment does not behave the same if not thoroughly meddled with.

“...his heart is the true yielder of the White Diamond…

and he will save a Keeper’s soul…”

It was midnight, and the sudden knock to your shop’s locked door spiked the fear in your nerves. It could be Ahriman’s soldiers —or Ahriman himself, coming to seize that last shard. You are defenseless without your magic, your wand and spells will never be enough to fight him or his men as they were granted power by Belial and were under his control. Belial’s spirit would only grow stronger, and soon, fragments of his consciousness would live within their souls. You feared that when you answered the door, you'd look straight into Belial’s eyes, like you did before when you sought to capture him. It was you who battled him with telepathy —the gift of your magic— and loss, your soul almost being eaten by him. Taking a deep breath, you unlock the door, sliding the latch off, you release some air, right before opening the door, just enough for you to peek.

But you would be met with nothing but the darkness of night. “To who’s knock have I answered?” you’ve counted the few seconds of silence —twenty long seconds, before a hand slightly pushes the door open. “You mustn't enter without your answer. To who’s knock have I answered?”

It was a man, and he would clear his throat before he sounded his response, “I am looking for the sorceress Y/n.”

He tried to push the door open, but you’d keep it still with your hand from the inside. “To who’s knock have I answered?”

“I am Mingi. I’m the son of the head witch of Celeste’s manor.”

Celeste —the name given to you by the Gods as a Keeper. You were one with the celestial bodies, their light giving you power to look into the minds of mortals and immortals alike, and control them. But you no longer had that power with you. “Inside.”

You spread the door open, finally seeing his full figure. He was dressed in black, a long coat and a homburg on his head. You meet his eyes that were the color of silver. You knew him, and his mother most of all —the only mortal that knew of your true self, the witch you’ve entrusted your treasures, crystals, and manor with, head witch Verbena. Your manor was a shelter to young witches who attend collegiate courses for sorcery, alchemy, and psychomancy at the mystic academy. You used to visit when you had the time, dropping off pastries for the witches, and for the little boy that ran through the halls to ask if you had brought his favorite. The little boy who asked for lemon chiffon cake, was now the man who stood before you.

“Why do you seek me?” you ask, rushing to lock the door behind him.

“You do remember me, right?” his voice was deep, yet anxious. “You knew my mother too.”

“Yes I do, Mingi.”

“Mom was killed by Ahriman’s soldiers.”

You were suddenly breathing thick air, your huffs becoming audible amidst the silence. “Verbena…” with your feeble utterance, Mingi removes his hat, revealing his fawn-colored locks, then he discards his long coat, hanging it over his forearm. He wore a black suit underneath, posh looking with silver motifs all over.

“I was called here by…” he avoids your eyes, looking for his next words within the cracks of the floorboards. “It was a voice in my dreams. I know it sounds crazy but—”

“Mingi, nothing will ever be crazy in our world.” you interrupt him, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you speak.

“Right.” he clears his throat again. “The voice told me to go here. I know this used to be the town's favorite bakery, the voice was showing me that and told me to find the missing piece.”

Your eyes dilate, realizing he might be sent by Ahriman to steal the last piece of the diamond. “Mingi, who do you bow to?”

“Me? I-I bow to the Keepers.” he stutters, and you took a minute for yourself to grasp the tone of his voice and his mannerisms.

“The truth, Mingi.”

“I am telling the truth, sorceress.”

You find it pleasurable for him to refer to you as sorceress, you figured perhaps he must know you were a Keeper yourself. If you had your magic, it would be easy for you to tell whether he was being honest. But now you have to rely on your mortal instincts.

“Then, what is the missing piece?”

His eyes wandered around again for mere seconds before he sighed, “I don’t know for sure. My dream was quite discreet with the details.” he utters, eyes finding yours.

You watch as his gaze falls all over your features, examining your very stature. He motions as if he was about to say something, but then he hesitates and decides to not do so anyway. You walk closer to him, taking the coat off his forearm.

“Follow me.” you say as you walk to the back of your shop, into your room.

You could hear his heavy footsteps against the wood floor, creaking slightly. When you got inside, you realized you had forgotten to turn off the lights at the main area of the shop, “Sit down and settle yourself. I’ll be right back.” you placed his folded coat on your bed before you went and closed the lights.

It only took you a minute or two, but when you came back, Mingi was standing next to your workbench, where you had laid the diamond.

“Don’t touch that!” you kept your voice quiet, avoiding creating any noises that would draw in soldiers or punishers.

“I’m sorry.” he utters, dropping the wand in his hand that he used to poke the shard.

You walk over to him, picking up the wand. You were an inch apart as you stood from lowering yourself to the ground. You prod the end of the wand on his chest as a threat.

“I apologize, sorceress. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” his soft utterance made you gulp, for how matter how mellow he had intended for it to be, his voice was still deep, like Cordelia’s oceans.

“Sit down. Anywhere’s fine.” your back was already facing him when you spoke.

You heard your lounge chair squeak a tad, then silence followed after. You walk back to your workbench where you’ve laid out books and old scrolls, a few wands from the wizards that were executed by the Fountain of Tears, and a stack of papers —a map standing out amongst all of them. It’s a roamer’s map. You’ve met a wayfinder in one of your expeditions before. He was of tall stature, alike Mingi —but unlike the shadow dressed man, Yunho wore white and a cloak that could conceal anything beneath its material. He gave you this map just because it “felt necessary”. The roamers map shows everything within its area of perimeters —it takes up about the size of a country— and moving sites will change the map’s scope.

“Sorceress, can I ask you something?”

Your head averted from the map, snapping up at him. “Surely. Ask away.”

He nods, once again looking away like he’s forgotten his question. Though, it wouldn’t take him a while until he asked you, “You aren’t a mortal, are you?” you nod to his question, and he nods along. “You look exactly the same as when I was a kid.”

“Mingi, i’m…” you thought for a minute, thinking back to Verbena. Such a kind-hearted and honest witch. She’s raised Mingi all her life. You figured, you should trust him like how you did with his mother. “I’m Celeste.”

His reaction was calmer than what you had anticipated, he’d reveal just why quite soon. “So, that’s why you look like the portrait of Celeste in mom’s room.” he looks right into your eyes. “Why weren’t you with the other Keepers?”

“My magic is long gone, Mingi. Leaving the life of a Keeper means leaving the power granted to you too. I’m as equipped as any witch out there.” he nods at your words. You pick up the diamond shard on your workbench, holding it up for him to see. “This is the missing piece —of the White Diamond.”

He stared wide-eyed at the shard, taking in the way it shone softly in your fingers. “I— it’s real?”

“And the folktale about the mystic society being born out of the White Diamond is real, it’s our story.”

He stood up from his seat, still inspecting the shining diamond. “And it is you, Celeste, who shattered the diamond?” you breathed in, getting yourself seated at the edge of your bed. “When I was a kid, my mom would always tell me that Celeste had such a warm heart, and that she loved the mortals —you were all those things in our town’s folktales.”

You look away for a brief moment, wearing a soft smile as you reminisce about the kind of boy Mingi was. He shouldn’t be that different as a man —you think to yourself before bringing your gaze back to him. “Yes. I was all that —I believed all life on Earth deserved to be blessed with magic. Magic —it allows for one to truly understand the nature of the world.”

The corners of Mingi’s lips would rise. Then, he slid his hand beneath his suit at the area of his chest. He pulled out a red stone that hung from his neck, an amulet —and a familiar one at that. “My mom told me that my dad left this for her when he died but, I still don’t know what its purpose is.” his hands moved the back of his neck, reaching for the lock of the necklace.

He struggled for a while, and so you stood up and walked over behind him. He was startled to a fleet, but once he felt your hands undoing his necklace, he eased himself. You remove it from his neck once the lock is undone. You brought it closer to your vision, its back resting on your palm as your thumb brushed over the stone. It shone brighter as your skin glided on its surface, like the shard, only that this stone is red and slightly orange in the core. From the way it behaved in your hand, you could tell the stone was not in its purest form and was manipulated by sorcery, a spell of some kind.

“And your mother never mentioned anything else about it?” the stone remained in your hand, twinkling and glowing with every swipe.

“She said it’s for our protection. From Belial.”

“I see. It’s blessed with a spirit ward.”

The necklace would revert around Mingi’s neck, along with the warmth of your hand that sent currents throughout his body. He spent his whole life fantasizing about the tale of the Keeper, picturing himself as a Keeper, protecting and creating life, serving the people for the greater good. He was raised by a witch that honored the Keepers with her whole life, having been a close ally to one. Verbena was a witch rescued from Belial’s minions by Keeper Zephyr, and would serve great help with protecting the wizards and witches by keeping them in refuge. Mingi was born after the war with Belial, and it was also when you gave up being a Keeper. Verbena owed you her life, because it was from you that she learned how to brew potions of any nature, use any spells with ease, create talismans, and most of all, you entrusted her with your manor —and what used to be the Keepers’ headquarters. Ever since the war with Belial, the Keepers had agreed to guard the different bodies of the world. The oceans, the sky, the animals and the plants, and the people. Since then, the manor was unoccupied, and there would be no other wizard or witch worthy of your credence but Verbena. Mingi has heard all the great things about you, feeling almost as if he was undeserving to be in your premises, let alone your presence. His eyes never leave you as you move from behind him, back to where you sat.

“When I found the White Diamond, it came with… a prophecy.” you avert your eyes from his, setting your gaze on the tiny slit of your window that displayed half of the moon. “It was about Ahriman, though we'd never known it back then. But it also told me that there would be a hero to come.” you look back at him, right into his silver irises.

Mingi whose young eyes you’ve met, and now he’s returned to seek for you, wearing clothes that made him one with the night —he wore the darkness. And maybe, his heart truly is the yielder of the White Diamond.

“What’s taking him so long?” he questioned, like how he would when you could still lay a hand on top of his head.

You laughed. He would turn out to be a bit bewildered, but he’d smile, huffing out once but never laughing wholly. “Maybe he’s already here.” you chuckled when he shrugged, finding his actions adorable. “Then, Mingi, you must assist me. Your dreams brought you here for a reason.”

“Right, sorceress. I will do as I am told.”

You walked back to your workbench, urging him to come along with the tilt of your head. He towered over your figure, looking down at the variety of articles, looking down at you. Then, you were the one who had to kneel to meet his eyes, but now your head leaned backwards, looking up at him as you shared your plans. You would share your failures as well, and the hurdle of being unable to restore your powers, not knowing how it was even possible.

“Perhaps an incantation or spell would work?” Mingi’s overt suggestion only evoked a sigh from you.

“Believe me, I’ve tried everything. I won’t be able to regain my magic without any of the other Keepers. But we won’t be able to escape and meet any Keepers without that magic either.”

“Let’s visit the well. Maybe I might be able to help.”

“Really?”

“Really, sorceress. I wish for you to allow me to at least try. I promise none of us will get hurt.”

You spent the night with him, preparing for your little endeavor. You remember spending a whole night’s sleep by the well, crying to the Gods. It mustn’t be that difficult, yet you had no idea of how you’d be able to return to your Keeper-self. It only added to the weight of your sorrows, already a heavy load from the destruction of the mystic society and the loss of thousands of wizards and witches. When the people need you the most is when you’re unable to grant the aegis you had promised them.

The sun had just woken up when you and Mingi had set out to head to the Keeper’s well. You were both equipped with just enough in case of a mishap —bringing the shard along with you. You took the liberty of exiting from the back of your shop that led to a deserted alleyway. There were still a few eyes roaming around the area, but not very threatful ones. Reaching a more populous area, you stick close to Mingi, your hand holding on to the sleeve of his coat.

“Take my arm.” he says, and you would do just that, entangling your arm around his.

At a sudden instance, an Ahriman soldier catches your attention from the corner of your eye. If you weren’t so vigilant, you wouldn’t have caught up on the way he looked at the pair of you.

“Ahriman’s soldiers roam this area. You really should’ve left the coat.” you whisper to your company.

And he whispers back, “Oh, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my trademark.”

“Tradema—” your query was cut off by a loud and excruciating bang, and a small fire building up at the little shack you and Mingi stood by.

“Sorceress, this is where we run.” he takes your hand in his, pulling you along with him, but you would only reach a meter before one of the soldiers came lunging at you.

Mingi was quick to react, drawing his blade from its sheath. His forearm catches the man by his chest, his blade moving to a speed the mortal eyes could never follow. A heap of blood escapes the soldier’s mouth as Mingi penetrates his abdomen. Another soldier came to strike, but this time you took care of it, ducking and booting his calf making him lay flat on his back on the ground. That’s when you whipped out your wand, casting a spell on him that made his mouth foam. Three other men would come running your way, and Mingi would rush in front of you to shield you from them. He takes one man by the arm, and it fascinated you. The man’s arm was out of reach, but it would seem as though a mass of wind blew the man to Mingi’s reach. And he was moving at a speed of no wizard. He kills off three men with little trouble, and when he turns to you, you have your eyes laid on him whilst also having a man's throat in your hand and you’d strike the man with the same spell you used earlier.

“Let’s take a run, shall we?”

“After you, sorceress.”

Just before the other soldiers came, you two had already disappeared from the site, running off to the mystic woodlands. Reaching the Keeper’s well meant following a maze-like path, or else, you won’t be able to go through the barrier that conceals it. It was an enchantment of protection by Keeper Fauna.

“That’s awesome.” was all that Mingi could utter once explaining to him how to get to the well.

You had the map in your hands. Yunho had marked the pathway you were to take, a thought for a thought, he knew you’d need it eventually, but he only took that extra step because you’re his favorite Keeper.

“You have to stick close, we can’t stray away from this path, not even a single step.”

“And the animals?”

“You won’t have to worry.” your eyes find his own, looking up at him the same way you did back in your room. “They know how to sort rotten souls from good ones.”

Mingi nods, taking a breath of the heated air. He takes off his coat, feeling the warm morning all over his body as sweat builds up all over him. A Keeper’s eyes are reserved —you repeat to yourself, but you’d be watching him through your peripheral as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the clean side of his coat’s sleeve, then he removed his gloves, wiping his palm and the back of his hand on the sleeve.

“Won’t you remove your cloak? it’s getting real hot.”

You profusely shake your head, “I’ll be fine.”

He gives you a small smile for a brief moment before his eyes leave you. He started wiping the sweat on his neck, throwing his head back to wipe thoroughly. You felt a little silly just standing there, so you went and got yourself seated on an outcrop —a large rock. You could feel his eyes pinned on your figure as you moved yourself. Your back was facing him, allowing for you to have room to finally realize how hot it actually was. So with a sigh, you unfasten your cloak, allowing for it to fall down, leveled with your waist. The fabric hung onto the back of your elbow, your collar bone and bare arms now exposed. From the back, Mingi could only stare. Your top was cropped just above your waist, and the rest was covered with black, translucent silk, but maybe too translucent. You feel Mingi’s presence next to you. He sat in the opposite direction, but was right next to you. His bottom was aligned with where your knees rest, so he could see all of you, now from the front. You tilt your head at him, and he’d do the same, raising his brows. You shake your head, suppressing a giggle. Somehow, he captures your eyes. The silver shine in them was pure allure to you. It was like refined dark magic, lulling you, putting your surroundings to a stop, yet it was so beautiful. You feel a soft breeze against your face, softly drawing your hair back. You shy away from his gaze because of the sudden motion of nature. When you look back at him, your smile drops.

“Mingi…” his irises glowed a different color, and it went back to silver when the breeze had gone away. “You are not a mortal, are you?”

With a slight shrug, he tells you, “I’m not sure honestly. I know I have abilities mortals normally wouldn’t have, but I only know my mother. I have no idea where my powers hail from —quite possibly from my father, but I don't know him either.”

He shoves his folded gloves on to his pocket, and you’d see a few scars all over his hand, some worse than others.

“How about you, Keeper Celeste?” you blink once, you were never used to being called that name. You’ve been Y/n for so many years. You hum back to him to question what he was asking you for, so he’d add, “Where the Keepers from?”

You wore a bitter smile, eyes wandering on the grimy ground. “I know the folktales told people that we fell from the sky, and it’s true —in some way. We were created by the Gods. They were giants that lived in the heavens. The Keepers were molded by… they never told us what, but that was how we were made. We were sent down when we were a decade old, to protect Earth.” you could feel the tears from the back of your eyes, so you’d close them for a brief moment. “We were children. I was a child too before I was a woman. But I never knew what being a child meant. Even if we were small, we were at our most powerful state of being. Our powers were fresh, and so were our minds. Nothing could manipulate us because our faith was with the Gods. That was until we lived a century. We realized that the Gods are sloth personified. They create beings to do everything for them, and they would do it just so they wouldn’t get blamed when the world turns to ash. They live through the faith of people. Once people stopped believing in them, they’d shrink into useless mortals. They’re just as selfish as demons.”

Mingi kept himself quiet, basking in the way your voice harmonized with the sounds of the woodlands. His eyes urged you to keep talking as they softened.

“That’s why I chose to live within the mortals and gave up being a Keeper. There was no way for me to die —other than cutting through my throat or stabbing into my heart— but I could give up the power. So I did that. My immortality is my curse, and I coped with baking, you know the rest of the story.”

“You’re a great baker.”

“I know. You loved my sweets.”

“Believe me, I still do.”

You laughed amongst yourselves, thinking back to the good old times. No war, no extreme offenses, no conflicts. Just a life of bliss and magic. “I didn’t miss being a Keeper, well, not until now.” Mingi had his bottom lip in between his teeth, marveling at your features.

“Sorry, but, I can’t help but ask —how old are you?” you chuckle softly at his query.

“Almost ten thousand years. I stopped counting when I hit six thousand. It’s too many numbers.” a laugh went past your lips seeing his mouth agape at the revelation.

“And I look older than you?” his little quip only had you dispensing another guffaw.

Getting yourself composed, you reply to him, “Well, if I counted correctly, you’re about the age of thirty, am I right?”

“Spot on.”

“You look twenty-one and thirty at the same time.”

“Hearing that from you, I'm thinking maybe I might actually be immortal.”

He looked up to the sky, once again exposing the skin of his neck. The closeness allowed for you to see how spotless his skin was despite being a kind of vigilante, which proved to be a lot of work. He seemed to already be known to Ahriman and his soldiers, claiming his black coat is his trademark. “We can’t say for sure. You must last a century before claiming yourself immortal.”

“I will last a century. I promised my mom I will protect—” he stops himself, huffing briefly before he speaks again. “—the Keepers.”

“You did?” he nods at your little question. “You were such an ambitious child.”

“Still am.”

“Ambitious, or a child?”

“Can it be both?” his shoulders rose to a shrug, making you titter for the nth time.

You were soon headed to the well, wasting no time to stop for anything. This path was truly one for wonders as it concealed the both of you from the rest of the world, all except the creatures of the mystic woodlands. Mingi kept himself close by walking right behind you, though he thought it would be better if he was beside you instead —he just couldn’t risk it. Soon, his hand would find itself on your shoulder as you walked through the trees, tracing each of your steps with his own. It was quite the trek but relief would wash away your exhaustion once you spotted a tiny cluster of wisps. They ward off any uninvited guests, and Mingi —despite looking intimidating— was welcomed by the gentle spirits.

“Wisps?” his low voice chuckled against the little kisses the wisps gave him.

“They’re very dear.” you mumble as more wisps came to you, playing with your hair and placing soft touches on your cheeks.

Mingi’s eyes glistened with the glow of the wisps, and he watched as one hovered on your palm. You bring it close to your face, eventually giving it a sweet kiss.

“I wish I was a wisp.” you hum in question of his utterance.

“Wisps are spirits that were taken for granted. Powerful, but was subjected to the consequences of life, suffering death before their spirits were able to spread love and wisdom in the world. They’re nice, but I'm pretty sure they’d prefer to be like us, you know, living.” he understood pretty easily, a little disappointed, but quite amused that you didn’t get the hint with what he said. “I love them.”

You relaxed the muscles of your hand, raising it up a tad and letting the wisp fly off to its friends. Ahead of you, finally, is the Keeper’s well. Your curiosity was at its peak when you remembered Mingi said he wanted to help, to try at least.

You walk over to the well, your hope dwindling with every step. The wisps had consoled you through all instances of you breaking down over numerous feeble attempts of procuring your magic. This time you hoped, that the presence of Mingi would change the course of this venture you’ve gone on for decades now with no success.

Once your toes were only an inch away from the well’s body, you stopped, looking into the well, it was a ritual for you. Maybe your powers would peek back at you.

“Are you alright?” Mingi’s voice sounded of worry, now with both hands resting on your shoulders.

You breath in the cool air of your surroundings, magic dust floating away from within the well with a soft inviting glow. “Lead the way, Mingi.”

You saw the movement in his throat as he gulped, making his way around the well and standing across from where you had anchored yourself. His blade leaves its sheath again. Your eyes were glued onto the alloy that shimmered with the illumination emitted by the wisps and the well itself. He holds it over the opening of the well, and his amulet —it hangs onto the quillon of the blade. “I wanted to test out something I’ve read out of the books, or maybe, this is just some stupid idea I came up with.” he mumbles the last part, but you were able to read his lips. Still, you trusted him.

He closes his eyes, and he chants. From what you understood, it was an incantation, typically used in the area of fishery. Sounds odd for Mingi to be using such a spell, but you just stood there and allowed for him to work his magic.

His grip on the blade loosened, and by every finger he detached from the grip, the blade got heavier, and heavier, until it fell. You heard the strong gust of wind as it continued to fall.

“I wonder what the Gods are saying about this war.” it had been a while since the blade was dropped into the well.

Your anticipation had diminished completely. “Mingi, let’s just go.”

“I do hope they recognized the Keepers’ sacrifices.”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “Mingi, we have to go before we get ambushed—”

“But then again, the Gods are none of our concern—”

“Mingi!” there was a slight crack in your voice, speaking as you fought the urge to break down again. “We must leave this place, now.”

“But I'm not done yet, Celeste.”

“Do not call me by that name, Celeste will never come back.” the tears swelled in your eyes, and you’d swallow your misery to deter from crying. “It’s impossible, Mingi.” your firm voice softens to one that is gloomy and reflects your despair.

With every step Mingi took closer to you, you’d only come close to breaking into a weep completely. A tear would trickle down to your jaw when he takes hold of your hands and makes you turn to the side to face him. You lower your head as the tears pour themselves out of you, you were breathing with a stutter. Mingi’s hand that was further from the well moves from your hand to your shoulder. Soon, you were laying the side of your head on his chest, the hand on your shoulder shifting to the back of your head whilst the other was entwined with yours. You felt Mingi’s heart thumping loudly in his chest, then he takes a deep breath and releases your hands at the side where the well was next to you both. His free hand hovers over the well’s opening. He was chanting again, but it was one you could not recognize even if you were hearing it right in your ear. You move away from Mingi’s body, watching his eyes change color like before. From silver to gold. The golden shine of his eyes reminded you of a pair that was very dear to you.

“Zephyr…” you utter to yourself, but only you would be able to hear.

Mingi was fully focused on his work, and you would hear that strong gust of wind again, now growing louder instead of the other way. Mingi stops his incantation, and looks into your eyes.

“Say it with me, Díno tin písti mou stous anémous tis aioniótitas.”

Zephyr’s language. “Díno tin písti mou stous anémous tis aioniótitas.” and your faith was with Mingi.

“Catch the blade Y/n.”

You hear the wind yelling, and it was getting louder. With a foot on the rim of the well and a hand over the well’s mouth, you were able to grab the blade by its grip as it came flying out. Mingi’s amulet blazed an angry red, and so did the well. He led you back to him by grabbing ahold of your free hand. You still held the blade the same way you had caught it from the well.

“Now hold the stone. Chant it again and close your eyes.”

Mingi frees your other hand so you could touch the amulet. You enclosed it in a tight grasp as you closed your eyes, and with the wholeness of your soul, you chanted, “Díno tin písti mou stous anémous tis aioniótitas.”

You lose your breath for a moment as the stone sparked in your hand. A strong flash of light struck your vision. It was like the whole world went back to being a small ball of light within the emptiness of space. The Gods have created such a beautiful world, but it was all for show. They act with no care, the care they had was for their vanity only. Then you were back to the moment you were molded from fine clay and the flesh of man, back to the very moment your power was bestowed to you.

“You serve the good, and only the good, and you will work to neutralize the evils from the very depths of hell, and you are never to betray your fellow Keepers, you shall love, but never turn against each other.”

You look around, seeing the younger selves of the other Keepers. And then there was Zephyr whose eyes glimmered with the gold the Gods would flaunt to each other and their servants. He was far, yet his voice spoke to you, loud and clear. He tells you, “Guide my son Celeste. He is the true Keeper of the winds and time itself. Believe in him, Celeste.”

Everything disappears, turning into dust. Zephyr’s words echoed in your mind and the image of his eyes never left your head.

“Celeste…” it was clear to you now. “I’m here… can you hear me?” Zephyr fell in love with Verbena, and their love bore a child. Mingi truly is immortal.

“Y/n!” you woke up, gasping from the shock of being awoken from such a profound dream.

You’d be even more shocked to find yourself on the ground with Mingi, him holding you closely in his arms. Mingi sets his hand on your jaw to hold it, gently guiding your head towards him so he could see you. You were in your true form. Before him was an image, surreal and captivating, enchanting him with the way your skin warmed up his cold hands. The night was cold, but you were as warm as day. And you felt like you were reborn. You meet his eyes, and he sees the entirety of the universe in your gaze —the planets and constellations he only read about in books.

“You’re beyond the beauty the tales make you out to be.” you hear the utterance in his mind. He seemed to have forgotten that you could read minds. “I’m so lucky.” you chuckled at his buoyant thoughts that just kept running. You wanted to confirm Zephyr’s message, and so you’d dig deep into his psyche. His whole upbringing flowed throughout every facet of your memory. And it revealed more than what you had intended to know.

You still held the stone in your hand, and you and Mingi’s surprise, the stone was no longer red. It had turned colorless, much like the shard you had with you.

“Mingi, this amulet, it’s a piece of the diamond.” Mingi loosens his embrace, allowing for you to sit up.

“Yeah, I see.” you examine Mingi’s face. His brows were furrowed, indicating that he was utterly clueless.

“It’s Zephyr’s shard, Mingi.” he looks back at you, with not much change in his expression. You hold back a smile. You speak to him with your mind to tell him, “Keeper Zephyr is your father.” his eyes grew wide and his hand clenched the skin of your bare arm.

“Really?”

“Really! he told me himself, when I was in a trance earlier.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to get ahead of myself.” you communicated solely with the voice of your minds, then you would hear his velvet voice again, “I read about the Keepers all the time as a child, and even now. It stunned me how similar my powers are to Zephyr, but I thought maybe it was just a coincidence, and that there were others like me.”

Your hand finds its way on his cheek, your soft fingers gliding against his skin as your hand goes up to fix his hair. “There’s only one Keeper of the winds and time, Mingi.”

He wore the same expression of astonishment as before. “Me?”

“Yes, you’re a Keeper.”

“So I am immortal after all.” you hear his thoughts again, making you giggle.

“Yes Mingi, you’re immortal.”

He just stared at you, right into your eyes. For a short while, his thoughts were empty, just basking in your warmth and ethereal presence. You were a being of high power that everyone else believed were only true in folktales. But Mingi’s faith was with you from the beginning, and now your faith lies with him.

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you?” you flick your tongue over your top lip, a smile forming on your plush lips as you watch his eyes linger on them.

This was the moment you admit to having been enamored by him, right from the night you spent with him even if you had done nothing but administer your plan and prepare yourselves. His flawlessly structured face, his tall stature, his voice, his willingness to protect you —you had gone long without a lover, and maybe now’s the time.

“Kiss me.”

He was careful, and a lot gentler for the size of him. He was bewitched with the feeling of your lips against his. He kept repeating in his mind, “I hope this isn't a dream.” as he continued to kiss you, making you chuckle against his lips for a short while —a very short while as he chased the sensation of having his lips, and his tongue against yours.

“Mingi.” you spoke to him with your mind, not being able to escape the feeling he’s ensnared you in. “We have to get going.” he keeps going for a few more lengthy seconds. He pulled away, leaving the two of you hot-faced and panting. You were both still lost and enthralled in each other’s eyes, then you’d talk to him, this time, with your voice audible. “Seriously now, we must go.” your mellow voice made his eyelids drop once, and he’d plant another soft kiss on your lips before pulling the both of you off the ground.

“Can you stab me? just so I could be sure this isn't a dream or some sort of hallucination.” you titter at his words, the palm of your gentle hand playfully hitting his chest.

“It’s real!”

Suddenly, his hands were all up in your hair. “Look, your hair, it changed color.”

You watch with awe as he moves strands of your hair around. “It’s my true form, Mingi.”

“It’s a crazy form —driving me crazy, that is.”

After a shared guffaw, you were back on track. Now with your magic restored, it would be easier for you and Mingi to move onto the arduous steps of your journey. You had a long way ahead of you, and a new Keeper by your side. He wasn’t one that was molded by the Gods and put through rigorous training by being thrown into a dragon’s cage, but he was one with a pure heart, and it set him apart from the rest of the Keepers. He understood human nature to its core with the blood of a mortal coursing through him. And he wasn’t one to give up, because you found out that it took him thirteen years to configure his magic and be able to use it without losing control. And unlike Ahriman, he wasn’t a vengeful soul. He only wished that there’s a future for the mystic society, for the world. And he would keep saving it, just so the people of the future won’t suffer the same fate as him and many others, mortal and immortal alike.

“And he saved a Keeper’s soul…”

not proofread, not planning on doing so either so :D

#ateez #ateez au #ateez mingi #song mingi #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fic

38 notes · View notes

gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 4 months ago

Note

Does Gallifrey have anything in the way of football (or uh. Soccer apparently. That's a very silly name) or any other sports?

What sports and games are there on Gallifrey?

Gallifreyans have an absolute drought when it comes to physical/contact sports. The only real physical sport is ...

🏀 Zero-Grav Hyperball: Played with balls and rackets in a zero-gravity environment, Zero-Grav Hyperball probably resembles racquetball, space-style.

Other games and board games include ...

🎩 Perigosto Stick Game: A form of Time Lord juggling where players use their powers to keep a 4-dimensional rod with a sphere or cube at the end in motion, preventing it from falling back into normal space-time. Playing with it over the age of 90 is considered a bit lame.

♟️ Gallifreyan 4D Chess: Pieces move on three vertically stacked boards and can also move forwards and backwards in time. Forcing the opponent into creating a paradox is a common way to win.

🎴 Gallifreyan Chequers: Played with red and white pieces, including unique roles like President's Cardinal and Chancellor's Castellan.

🃏Gallifreyan Playing Cards: These have the suits Flames, Owls, Clouds, Souls, Deeps, Mesmers, and Dominoes, with the face cards being the Hand, the Duke, and the Rogue. A popular game is 5D Cribbage.

🧠 Mindbending (Time Lord Wrestling): A telepathic battle where contestants try to regress each other through their previous incarnations. Although a game, it can end in a deathlock if a contestant is pushed back to the point of looming, so it is considered dangerous.

🧩 Gallifreyan Labyrinth Game: The goal is to get opponents lost in a dimensionally transcendental maze and manipulate their movements by subconsciously training them to make certain turns. Gallifrey once had labyrinth games on every street corner.

🎲 Sepulchasm: Played on a board shaped like a mountain range, players use psychic powers to keep their pieces suspended over a chasm created by certain dice rolls. To win, you need to keep pieces in the air longer than your opponent.

🔮 Eighth Man Bound: An extreme rite of passage where students at the Academy use a symbiosonic generator to predict their future incarnations while their classmates chant their name ominously. It claims the lives of 15 Gallifreyan students every macrosemester.

🪐 Scratchin: Details unspecified, but it’s another popular Gallifreyan game.

🏫So ...

They don't engage in physical sports much; their focus is more on the mind and using their chronopsionic powers. Their games also have a bit of a fatality rate. Play safe.

What is Gallifreyan music like?: Musical instruments and genres on Gallifrey.

What’s on Time Lord TV?: Visual entertainment on Gallifrey.

Factoid: Gallifreyan Magazines

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

#doctor who #gil #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #whoniverse #ask answered #gallifreyan culture

20 notes · View notes

askhaley · 3 months ago

Note

Am I good enough for your sister? 👉👈

Hmmm... I guess I have known you for a while. But do you have what it takes to be with her? Can you stay awake through her boring meditations? Can you stomach her awful health foods? Can you listen to her chant ominous hymns at three in the morning?

If you want yourself a manic pixie dream girl, you need to be prepared for the "manic" part!

#stardew ask blog #stardew valley #sdv haley #sdv emily #ask haley #sdv asks

13 notes · View notes

pulsar-the-northstar · 7 months ago

Text

Grief as concept in The Gazette's 'Dark Age' - Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Introduction

Grief, in its essence, encompasses a myriad of natural responses triggered by the loss of someone significant in our lives. However, grief isn't confined solely to the departure of a loved one; it extends to the loss of meaningful connections, dreams, aspirations, and even possessions. Whether it's the end of a friendship, leaving a job or home, parting with a beloved pet, or the destruction of a cherished object, each instance of loss can evoke profound feelings of grief.

The notion of "grief work," originating from Freud's perspective, implies a process of detachment from the deceased. However, this concept may not always align with our personal experiences of grief (or with modern psychology’s approach). Similarly, traditional "stage theories" of grief tend to oversimplify the complex emotional journey by delineating distinct phases. Yet, grief is inherently subjective, and our experiences of it can vary widely, making it more apt to discuss the components rather than stages of grief.

Understanding the components of grief is essential, recognizing that they are descriptive rather than prescriptive. These components may coexist simultaneously, and some may be absent altogether. Grieving is not a linear process, there is no predetermined timeline dictating when one should progress from denial to anger, for example. However, the value of stage theories lies in emphasizing that grief is indeed a journey, and every emotion experienced along the way is valid and indicative of progress towards acceptance.

The album Dogma, released in 2015, stands out as The GazettE's most intense and meaningful work to date. Its powerful visuals, deep musical arrangements, and poignant lyrics evoke strong emotions and touch on a range of topics. After the release of Dogma, the band added two singles, Ugly and Undying, to round out the album's theme. Together, these three works, along with their accompanying Dogmatic tours, are often referred to as the Dark Age. Dark Age consists of several stages (like grief itself), and this dark period ends with the Dogmatic Tour Final, symbolically titled as 漆黒 (shikkoku, "the blackest black").

Just as Shikkoku represents the darkest and most profound phase of Dark Age, the Dogma-triptych represents the pinnacle of The GazettE's exploration into darkness. The songs and overall concept of Dark Age are intricate, yet this complexity allows for personal interpretation and reflection. Dark Age acts as a mirror - a dark mirror indeed - where listeners can continually uncover new layers of meaning. Beyond its surface themes, the songs of Dark Age also delve into the complexities of grief.

In the following sections, I'll take you through the songs of the Dogma album, as well as the singles Ugly and Undying, in the same order they were performed during the Shikkoku live. We'll explore how these songs relate to theories of grief and how they navigate themes of death and loss.

Part 1

The opening track of Dogma, titled NIHIL, derives from the Latin word meaning "nothing." This term symbolizes the initial phase of grief when a sense of emptiness and emotional numbness emerges. Sometimes, we may not fully grasp the gravity of the situation, leading to a feeling of detachment from reality. This aspect of grief, characterized by emotional detachment and shock, is identified by British psychiatrist John Bowlby as the first stage of the grieving process based on attachment theory.

The album's second track and title song is DOGMA, which in both its musicality and lyrics raises a very strong theme. The ominous, mournful sound of the harpsichord reminiscent of Bach is accompanied by heartfelt singing and a deep, slow chant: “I deny everything / I deny all of it", which introduces the concept of denial. “Dogma" is a Greek-origin word and can be translated as "what has been proven right". In today's sense, we use this word for a principle of a religion or ideology that is unquestionable – and what could be more unquestionable from a spiritual point of view than death? Although our minds are aware that death is a final state, we still protest against it.

Denial, along with the shock described in NIHIL, constitutes the initial stage of the "five stages of grief”, a widely recognized theory associated with Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. Originally developed for understanding the process of dying, as she was working in hospice care with terminally ill patients, this model may not fully capture the experiences of people who lost a significant person in their lives. Dr. H. Norman Wright later expanded the Kübler-Ross model into a seven-stage framework, refining its phases while preserving its fundamental structure.

DOGMA showcases a wide range of grief components: alongside the theme of denial, it also includes anger towards the stupidity of others, arguing with God, and mentions the funeral as a separating transitional rite (闇を纏い孤高は儀に向かう – "cloaked in darkness, I must face the ceremony alone"). However, the most beautiful expression of the true essence of grief may be found in the last three lines in English: "I will blacken out this world / Darkness in the world / Starts tonight" – because grief almost envelops the mourning person in darkness, marking the beginning of a new era – the Dark Age.

The third song on Dogma, titled RAGE, already alludes to the second stage of the Kübler-Ross model and the third stage of the Wright model: anger. The key question of this phase is "why did this happen to me?" (This question later recurs almost literally in BLEMISH, emphasizing that in the grieving process, the stages may repeat.) Anger during grief can manifest in various ways: towards the fact of death ("We cannot change this fact, it is done"), towards the "dumb" masses (as DOGMA also suggests) who are unable to understand what we are going through; it can be directed towards someone we consider guilty of the loss we suffered, towards the deceased who left us alne, and also - towards ourselves. In RAGE, Ruki uses vulgar expressions to express anger ("shithead", "dickhead", "shitty looser"), while outwardly addressing his words to a single person, who is none other than the "sad old geezer" (God?), who can no longer save us ("Too late / this asshole cannot be saved"), who betrayed us ("How do you use us?") and left us stranded, both as individuals and as a community ("The generation is our last one"). Addressing God is also part of the bargaining according to the Kübler-Ross and Wright modelsas spirituality frequently becomes a factor in grief, involving the higher power capable of granting and ending life.

As we move forward to the next track, DAWN, we encounter a subtle yet significant shift in tone. The very title of the song suggests the promise of emerging from darkness into light, evoking a sense of hope and renewal. However, despite this optimistic connotation, the essence of the composition remains entrenched in the depths of despair and uncertainty.

The song begins with a reminiscence, pulling us back into NIHIL (愛し果てた過去抉り出し歌う /空白の底に - "I sing, digging up the memories of the beloved past", "An evil spell my life"). However, hope is best symbolized by the imagery of 惑乱の時を越え /あぶくを立てる感情を ("beyond the momentary confusion / emotions come to surface"), since grief requires the full spectrum of emotions for its expression.

DEPRAVITY again evokes the state of hopelessness after DAWN (どこまでも深く闇は俺を離さない - "darkness completely engulfs me and won't let go", 眠れぬ夜と生きた – "I lived through sleepless nights"), and also states that the emotions that surfaced no longer support the grief process (涙も枯れてしまった – "my tears have dried up"). However, the setback is only apparent: modern grief theories no longer think in such linear processes, but rather in a system where the griever oscillates between emotions. A "normal" grief (i.e., not "complicated" grief) follows a natural pendulum movement: sometimes focusing on experiencing the loss, sometimes shifting focus to the intention of restoration, and back. This theory of grief processing is called the associated with Margaret Stroebe and Henk Schut, and could be illustrated with the following diagram:

DEPRAVITY introduces the theme of seeking meaning with its interrogation of God (執念の塊がぶちまけた暴力を / 罪と呼ばず神と讃えれるか？- "how can you praise a god who unleashes violence without calling it sin?"), questioning what kind of god allows suffering and the death of the people created in his image. In grief and loss, seeking meaning is a natural human reaction: we create mental models of the world in which fundamental truths (DOGMA) operate ("This cannot happen to me"), and when unexpected loss occurs, it shatters our previous worldview. In the process of rebuilding, it's not just the lost person that needs to be mourned, but also the trust in life itself – because if this horror can happen, which shouldn't have happened, then basically anything can happen. This distrust, or uncertainty, is what brings the need for seeking (and finding) meaning (Dr. Robert Neimeyer's meaning reconstruction theory): it necessitates the creation of new narratives, bridging the gap between past and future, transcending the experience of loss.

DEPRAVITY brings up realizations from the depths (真実の裏はいつだってそうさ – "there's always something behind the truth"), which we were not aware of before experiencing loss: how important the lost person was to us (繋いだ心が/ 通わせ合った願いが – "connected hearts / and shared hopes"), and with them, not only did we lose the other half, but also the future we had dreamed of, where the deceased had a place, and where the void formed (望まぬ終わりに何を失う？ - "what is lost with the unexpected end?").

PARALYSIS continues along the same train of thought, but much more prominently. Ruki stated about this song that it draws from a personal experience, a specific story, and is about his own weakness, vulnerability. Personally, I find it beautiful how Ruki integrates English idioms into Japanese lyrics because it gives a sense as if he's singing words highlighted in bold and italics: everything has emphasis, and it points back to the fact that despite seeking truth, secrets remain forever hidden from us ("Lies are stacking up", "Past... Buried... Forever"). Although the title of the song means "numbness," it rather refers to a numbness of action than emotional numbness, as emotions – especially pain – come back with renewed vigor (本能のまま絡まり出した感情が / わからないくらい痛い, "these instinctively tangled emotions / hurt more than I thought"), and cannot be suppressed (寂寞に埋まる私の生命 / 吐き出せばまた孤独に還ってしま, "my life is buried in loneliness / no matter how hard I try to vomit it out, loneliness always returns"). It's significant that he wants to vomit out loneliness (吐き出す, hakidasu – "to spit out, to vomit"), as continuous nausea, seemingly independent of any bodily cause, often appears among the physical symptoms of grief. (Other commonly occurring physical symptoms include: insomnia or hypersomnia, increased appetite or loss of appetite, headaches or other bodily pains.)

BIZARRE provides a momentary glimpse into the grief process, considering that here Ruki wrote the lyrics about a specific phenomenon, juvenile crime, yet this song also contains numerous references to violence and death, as if suggesting: hell itself is the terrible place we live in, where innocent people die.

Continue to part 2

#the gazette #dogma #dark age #grief work #grief

15 notes · View notes

dragons-eat-people · 1 year ago

Text

Tricked, Treated

Regaining consciousness, are we? Let's recall this tale from the beginning: A Chilling Journey into Misty's World...

The moon hung low in the ink-black sky and the eerie winds whispered secrets and ghostly chants into the night, the fluffy dragoness was ready to spread her yearly mischief on her favorite night.

Her own little game of "Trick Or Treat".

With her powers at their peak, her heart raced with anticipation, mischief, and excitement. Misty prowls the darkened streets, her fur shimmering like fresh-fallen snow in and out of view. The darkness aids in her traversal. Unsuspecting trick-or-treaters are met with her hypnotic gaze, and fresh souls are drawn into the world of shenanigans and trickery.

Reading into their greatest fears was the fun part, using such information to get good scares out of her victims, but all for good fun, of course. She loved to tease, making her unfortunate victims squirm and wriggle with anticipation. On the surface, Misty emits an aura of playfulness and eager righteousness, but this is all just a simple lure into a coy trap. Deep down, she simply craved all the fear, screams, and absolute shivers that ran down the spines of the ones she scared.

Who'd think? All this fun crammed into one simple holiday...

Of course, you're oblivious to all this. Having known Misty for a couple months, you'd had no idea about what could happen tonight. You knew she'd show up to see you, but when...?

Then, as if on cue, there was a knock on the front door. Three, in fact. All singular, spaced apart in time. Ominous.

You get to your feet, thinking nothing of it. It's probably just some trick-or-treater. Right? As you open the door, you're met with nothing but the silence and desolate sight of your front lawn, minus the inflatable skeleton and black cat. Just then...there's a subtle breathing down your neck. A simple turn is all it takes...

Nothing. You shrug it off, closing the door behind yourself before returning to the couch. There's no need for distractions on your laid-back night, you're too busy watching Monster House.

Perhaps it was a prank. She might've teased you about showing up, even if that was unlike her. Oh well. At least there's more popcorn and candy for yourself. You continue to watch your film for a while before an unsettling feeling of being watched fills your mind. Shake it off! Surely, it's just a simple trick or two. Surely...

It's not long until that same breathing from before returns. It's a lot closer this time, with the addition of smelling quite...minty. Uh oh.

You are only offered a quick glance before a damp mint-green-colored tongue is lassoed around your waist, yanking you up off your spot on the couch. Her jaws open wide, surrounding your form. A small but powerful swallow is all it takes to send you disappearing into her bottomless depths. The medium-sized bulge of your body accompanied from outside, making Misty purr as you sank, sliding into her belly, rounding it out quite a bit.

You've received quite the Trick this year...but don't worry. Halloween only lasts a couple more hours...

Happy Halloween!

#v.ore #soft vore #sfw vore #dragon vore #vore story #vore wrting #mistythedragoness #halloween #safe vore

28 notes · View notes

digitsofpie · 1 year ago

Text

Ok crazed metropolis soundtrack rant below

So like. I made that post about the intricacies of the Metropolis leitmotifs but I didn't really go in much detail on any of the songs, so... for the hell of it here's an analysis on the leitmotifs of Der Tanz (The Dance)

Now I'm no expert on music theory, but this... THIS... this song is truly a sight to behold.

I was lucky enough to find an ACTUAL FULL VERSION of the sheet music for the entire score! Imslp.org is a lovely site full of public domain sheet music for people to download for free! Hopeful me wanted to see if there was any chance that Huppertz's score was on there, and it is! You can check out the full thing here. Since it's such a long score and there are so many parts, it's written like a piano piece with other specific parts written in at times. It follows the full length 2 hour long score on Spotify, and not the condensed one hour long version. Anyway here we go!!!!

I want to start by saying that this piece, Der Tanz, is very, very intricate! It is pretty much a culmination of many recurring leitmotifs already present in the score, and is like a big hurrah at the end of the Zwischenspiel.

It starts with this:

Those first two measures are devoid of any other instruments besides the steady bounce of the wood block. It seems like a trivial choice, but I found that it is a deliberate one!

Elsewhere in the movie, when Georgy (11811) switches lives with Freder and rides in a car through the city, he encounters the Yoshiwara, the red-light district full of that 1920s glamour and excess. There, you can hear these things: the wood block, the bells/glockenspiel. and a rhythm of two sixteenth notes and three eighth notes (we'll encounter those later).

Both the wood block and the bells give off a vibe of whimsy and carefreeness/carelessness (depending on how you see it), so I find it a wonderful choice in the context of the movie.

Moving on, we encounter what I call the Dance motif/ False Maria motif:

That pattern of descending sixteenth/eighth notes is what characterizes False Maria. You hear it in practically every other scene she's in. such as the scene in which Joh Fredersen commands her to ruin Maria's efforts:

Same pattern, right? It also shows up in "Im Laboratorium - Verwandlung" and in "In Rotwangs Salon," as well as plenty of other songs.

It's a careless, playful motif that I think perfectly symbolizes False Maria, and when twisted right (like in the image above), is sinister as well.

Soon after this motif appears, we get another theme that occurs a LOT throughout the entire score: the Machine Man motif.

See the smaller staff, at the very top? That motif shows up in many places, usually to do with the Machine Man, such as "Der Maschineman," "Im Laboratorium," "Der Aufstand der Arbeiter," Der Scheiterhaufen," and many, many more!

It is a hypnotic and beautiful theme, not unlike False Maria herself. She/ the Machine Man are almost ethereal but unnerving in the way they act, and the theme itself, though graceful, seems to veil the unknown.

At the same time this motif is playing, a rhythm played in the Yoshiwara theme (Die Autofahrt) also plays!

It may be a bit of a stretch, and although the two are in different time signatures (one is cut time (2/2) and the other is 2/4), you can still see a resemblance! All it does is solidify that this is the same area, an upbeat and lively club.

Next is something I only discovered recently! The next motif is what I previously called the Desolation motif, and it shows up here:

In the top part, a series of half notes plays ominously in the background. It not only shows up throughout the Metropolis score, but in other classical music, as well! I was listening to Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique when I noticed that familiar ominous pattern, so I looked it up, and found this:

It's an old pattern found in Gregorian chants, often referenced in classical music to convey death, danger, or as the name goes, an "angry god." I even found that Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age from Holst's the Planets (my favorite movement from my favorite piece) also uses this!

Of course, with all the religious imagery throughout Metropolis, from Moloch to Death itself, you can't really have a soundtrack without referencing this once.

During this sequence, the song plays through the Machine Man motif quietly, then picks up the pace by repeating the False Maria motif with the Yoshiwara rhythm. Then, I heard something interesting!

During rehearsal 48, the Dies Irae motif plays again, harsher and louder, but over that, on the smaller staff, you can hear a piccolo. In the song after this, Der Tod, Death himself plays a piccolo (well, a bone) and it is the primary instrument you hear in that specific song. Even before he shows himself, the score sort of leads up to that by having the piccolo play during the Dies Irae motif.

The song gets louder and faster, culminating in a blast of Dies Irae with a trumpet in the lead. Then, in the center of desolation, it goes right into Der Tod.

That's all the leitmotifs I could pick up, but a song doesn't have to HAVE leitmotifs to tell you something. In fact, the ABSENCE of leitmotifs also speaks just as loudly as having them.

What's something that we, the audience, know that most of the characters don't? That's right: that the woman dancing before them is not Maria, but a robot, a puppet, a mockery of her. So what do you let the audience know through the music? By NOT having any of the real Maria's motifs present!

While listening, I could pinpoint a few of Maria's themes.

(Found in Die Predigt Marias and Freder und Maria, respectively)

As seen in the smaller, upper staffs, Maria's themes are slow, flowing, gentle, majestic, showing her understanding and kind nature. To have these themes not show up at all subconsciously hammers it in how different the two characters are, and when you can't tell which is which, all you have to do is listen to the music. Even when you can't remember what scene happened during whatever track you're listening to, if you recognize the motifs, you can certainly take a wild guess.

Oooookay I've completely run out of things to say about Der Tanz, so. Thanks for reading (if anyone reading this can't read music, im. sorry)

#this post took me several days to make #if that doesnt say anything about my mental state idk what does #anyway metropolis/classical music/movie score likers follow me for more deranged rants!!!!!!!#metropolis 1927 #gottfried huppertz #freder fredersen #false maria #you heard it from pie

29 notes · View notes

spencerreidswhore187 · 10 months ago

Text

Hymn for Her (1)

Ava x Beatrice (Warrior Nun)

Summary: The discovery of a resurrected Ava, believed to be lost, sends ripples through Bea's reality, filling her heart with both joy and trepidation. However, the reunion takes a harrowing twist when Ava, transformed by otherworldly forces, becomes an unexpected adversary, unleashing violence upon the Order of the Cruciform Sword. Ava finds herself entangled in a relentless battle against the forces of darkness, the mystery behind her descent into darkness deepens. Meanwhile, Bea grapples with the conflicting emotions of love and despair, haunted by dreams that connect her to Ava's tortured soul.

T/W: Descriptions of violence, blood and gore. Brief mentions of alcohol, guns and other weapons. Please let me know if I forgot to add something.

Word Count: 1.1k

Part One: An Unholy Darkness

Part Two: Echoes of Darkness

Part Three: Whispers in the Shadows

Part Four: Dance with Shadows

Part Five: Embrace of Light

The dimly lit corridors of the ancient convent echoed with Camila's hurried footsteps as she moved through the shadows, her senses heightened by an unsettling premonition. The flickering candlelight cast eerie patterns on the stone walls that followed her as she moved. Camila knew she wasn’t alone. She clutched the hilt of her knife tightly, her eyes darting between the veiled archways.

As she turned a corner, she froze. There, standing in the gloom of the corridor, a figure cloaked in shadows.

“Turn around,” Camila demanded. Her voice was strong and commanding, long gone was the hesitant rookie. She’d died when Adriel killed almost every member of the Order of the Cruciform Sword - her family. Her sisters.

The ominous figure turned slowly, raising their arms to lower their hood.

Camila's heart leapt with joy, and without hesitation, she rushed forward to embrace them.

"Ava!" She exclaimed, relief flooding her as she wrapped her arms around her friend. "I thought you were lost forever.”

Camila's heart leapt with joy as she rushed forward to hug her.

Ava's response was a tight embrace, her body cold and rigid. Camila felt a pang of unease but dismissed it as exhaustion. However, when she pulled away to look into Ava's eyes, she saw an unsettling emptiness within them.

“Ava?" Camila asked, a note of concern in her voice. “Are you alright?”

Ava's lips curled into a wicked, hollow grin, and her eyes gleamed with malevolence. Before Camila could react, Ava's hand shot out, gripping Camila's wrist with an unnatural strength. Panic flickered across Camila's face as she realised that something was horribly wrong.

In an instant, the corridor erupted into chaos. Lilith, adorned in snake-like scales, emerged from the shadows with a cunning smirk mirroring Ava's. The air crackled with dark energy as the two warriors launched their vicious assault.

The fight was swift and brutal. Fists, knives, claws flew; Camila fought desperately to understand the nature of Ava's transformation, but her friend's attacks were relentless and devoid of mercy.

The convent's halls echoed with cries of pain and the distant chants of prayers.

Beatrice, clad in her battle attire, moved through the dark corridors with a determined grace. As Bea approached the heart of the convent, a subtle shift in the air caught her attention. A feeling—a whisper of intruders trespassing on sacred ground. Her senses heightened, and her hand instinctively reached to lower the silver chain-link mesh that covered her face whilst she fought.

Bea's eyes widened as she watched a figure phase through a wall in front of her. A silhouette, both familiar and haunting, stepped into the light.

"Ava?" Bea's voice, a mixture of surprise and joy, echoed through the sacred space. The silhouette, bathed in the soft glow of the halo, turned to face her.

Ava's form, once a source of comfort and camaraderie, now exuded an aura of dissonance. Her eyes, once warm and familiar, held an emptiness that sent a shiver down Bea's spine. The joy that had momentarily flickered in Bea's heart now gave way to growing distress as she took in the subtle changes in Ava's demeanour.

"Ava, you're back," Beatrice's words, a hopeful plea, hung in the air like an unanswered prayer. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her knife hidden behind her back, its divine essence pulsating in tandem with the uncertainty that now clouded the sacred space.

Ava regarded Bea with a dismissive glance. The love that used to linger in her eyes had been replaced by an unsettling detachment. "Beatrice," Ava's voice carried an air of indifference. "This doesn't concern you."

Bea, her determination undeterred, stepped forward. "Ava, what's happened to you? We can face whatever threat together. You don't have to do this alone."

A scornful laugh echoed through the chapel. "Alone? I'm not alone, Beatrice. I've found a power greater than anything this order could offer. A power greater than anything you could offer.”

Ava stepped forward, gently stroking Bea’s cheek as she drew her face close to hers, their lips were almost touching.

“Drop the knife,” Ava whispered.

Bea's hands shook as she released the knife. It clattered on the stone floor. This was her opening, Bea knew she would hate herself for attacking Ava but it would be worse if she did nothing. It would destroy her to let this evil thing that controlled her, swallow Ava whole.

Beatrice's movements were swift and purposeful, her strikes guided by the discipline instilled by years of training. Ava met her blows with an otherworldly finesse. They moved as one as if they were both part of the same heart-breaking dance.

Beatrice's pleas for reason fell on deaf ears. Ava, consumed by darkness, countered with cryptic taunts and dismissive laughter.

"Ava, why are you doing this? What has taken hold of you?"

Ava's response was a mocking smile. "The OCS is blind, Beatrice. Blind to the true power that awaits those willing to embrace the shadows. You could join me, but I suppose that's too much to ask of someone shackled by their allegiance."

Bea, her resolve unwavering, pressed on. "I won't abandon our family for a path shrouded in darkness. There's still light within you, Ava. I won't let it be extinguished."

Fuelled by a love that transcended the shadows, Bea fought not just for the Order of the Cruciform Sword but for the soul of the girl she loved. Bea clung to a glimmer of hope, a belief that the Ava she once knew could still be saved from the abyss that threatened to engulf her.

Ava kicked Bea’s leg out from under her, causing the girl to collapse onto the floor. Ava climbed atop her, resting a leg on either side of Bea’s waist, pinning her down.

There was no sound in the room except for their heavy breathing. Bea’s chest rapidly rose up and down. She knew she should be scared but it was hard to be anything but enamoured when this close to Ava’s sun-kissed face.

If Ava wanted to kill her, she would be dead by now. And Bea would let her if it meant staying this close to Ava for another moment.

Bloodied and bruised, Bea gazed at her with a mixture of sorrow and determination, but Ava was gone before another plea could leave her lips.

As the dust settled and the wounded groaned in agony, the motive behind Ava and Lilith's unholy alliance remained shrouded in mystery. The battle had just begun, and the war between the nuns was about to reach a terrifying crescendo.

A/N: Thank you for reading ◡̈

10 notes · View notes

dustedmagazine · 1 year ago

Text

V/A — Red Hot and Ra: Nuclear War LP (Red Hot)

youtube

Since its origins in 1989, the Red Hot Organization has created benefit compilations, enlisting famous performers, usually from the pop ranks, to sing standards from the Great American Songbook. Red Hot and Ra: Nuclear War LP has a different brief. Free jazz and adjacent artists use Sun Ra’s iconic riff on “Nuclear War” (“It’s a m—er f—er, don’t you know, If you push that button your a– gonna go!”) to engage politically and urge de-escalation.

Sun Ra was living near the Three Mile Island disaster site, and this is what spurred him to write “Nuclear War” in 1981. Those of us who came of age during or after the end of the Cold War thought that the fear of mutually assured destruction might be able to be successfully contained; even, eventually, abolished. As the recent invasion of Ukraine by Russia demonstrates, the specter of WMD, and concerns for the security of nuclear power plants, have returned to the forefront of our awareness.

Georgia Anne Muldrow, joined by trumpeter Josef Leimberg, begins the recording with a blues-inflected song that, while referencing the original, provides additional lyrics and loose-limbed riffing. It is a nice touch that the first track isn’t merely a straight cover of the original. In fact, all of the subsequent artists mine the source material for inspiration, but take the music in expansive, often surprising, directions.

Angel Bat Dawid contributes a three-movement, half-hour long suite that features her group the Cosmic Ensemble, a small instrumental cohort and a group of backing vocalists (“The Cosmic Choir”). While she also sings and plays keyboard, Dawid’s clarinet playing often takes center stage, with bent notes, sustained passages, and fluent soloing all performed with considerable facility. The Cosmic Choir appears in movements one and three, but it is in movement two, “Nuclear War!,” the most referential to the original, that their full-throated cries first rise to the fore. The final movement, “Kiss your a_ Goodbye”, continues to have the chorus chant unison melodies, only to break into harmony with a bright soprano solo. Dawid is at the piano, playing a soulful riff that urges on both vocalists and instrumentalists. Partway through, the texture returns to a cappella chorus, with one-on-a-part overlapping phrases. The ambience is mournful and ominous to the end, which seems altogether appropriate.

Malcolm Jiyane’s Tree-O, joined by Grandmaster CAP, performs “We’re Not Buying It.” The lyrics include the title as a call and response refrain, with verses about the oppressive nature of warfare and the dangers of WMD. There is strong support from the rhythm section, but plenty of room is left for Jiyane’s funk-tinged piano soloing and flute from Tubatsi Moloi.

To conclude the LP, Irreversible Entanglements, one of the best free jazz groups around, perform an extended version of the original. Camae Aweya (Moor Mother) provides intense vocals, saxophonist Keir Neuringer and trumpeter Aquiles Navarro play aggressive, angular solos, bassist Luke Stewart uses bow pressure to create scratchy melodies and drummer Tscheser Holmes supplies polyrhythms and muscular fills. The piece builds to a gale storm of activity, including trippy electronics, one worthy of the Arkestra yet in its own distinctive orbit. The group pulls back near the close, building up from forceful rhythm section playing to modal melodies in saxophone and trumpet. It seems to be a postcard from the maelstrom with which Irreversible Entanglements send off the music.

Over the next two years, Red Hot plans to release two more LPs related to Sun Ra. The multiverse awaits.

Christian Carey

#red hot and ra #nuclear war #red hot #christian carey #albumreview #dusted magazine #sun ra #angel bat dawid #irreversible entanglements #georgia anne muldrow #malcolm jijayne #jazz #tribute #benefit

7 notes · View notes

jjkirbs · 11 months ago

Text

GAME REVIEW - The Chant

THE CHANT is a firm entry in the new weird genre - inspiration clearly drawn from the likes of Stranger Things, The Thing, Beyond the Black Rainbow, Annihilation, Mandy, this is an enjoyable entry in this underexplored genre in gaming.

THE CHANT integrates elements reminiscent of these classics while carving its own narrative path. The game evokes a sense of exploration and nostalgia for players familiar with gaming hallmarks and a story full of intriguing concepts.

Jess is invited by her friend Kim to the isolated Glory Island for a spiritual retreat, rekindling friendships and to treat unresolved trauma regarding an accidental death.

Joined by Maya, Sonny and Hannah, they're led by Tyler, an easygoing new age brah with an omnious vibe - the guy screams B-Movie villain. Tyler, whose family owned the island, has set up makeshift tents amidst eerie remnants of rituals and chilling notes; neglecting the disturbing past of the island. The contrast between Tyler's casual approach and the island's ominous history is quite captivating - what does he know that we don't?

The game cleverly uses colours and symbolism related to a very 60’s inspired concept known as "Prismatic Science", whereby using chakras, geometry, mathematics, and physics, an innovative approach is devised to treat the human mind. By intertwining these esoteric concepts, it creates a captivating ambiance that connects the mystical with the scientific. It gets very Lovecraft and I'm totally here for it.

Similar to the captivating world-building and immersive environments of Control by Remedy Entertainment and BioShock by 2K, THE CHANT meticulously constructs its lore.

In contrast to most games that create tension and fear by restricting vision and/or immersing you in darkness, THE CHANT refreshingly flips this on its head - instead, it creates a sense of dread for bright areas drenched in vivid colours. As you will learn, the colours are indicative of the types of encounters you're about to face.

You’ll end up running towards the darkness for respite!

The gameplay mechanics in THE CHANT exhibit similarities to Alan Wake, again by Remedy, offering a familiar and comfortable experience. Progression through the game is reminiscent of previous gaming generations. Such as finishing an intense boss fight, which will result in new powers, upgrades, keys, and/or pathways to new (and old) parts of the island enhancing gameplay and although old-school; ensures a sense of progression - a routine which becomes quite a comfort.

On the island, you'll find various materials scattered around that can be used to craft unique items, including weapons. However, in a new age twist, rather than making typical proactive weaponry like knives or spears, Jess is a defensive combatant, making use of twine and sage to create smudge sticks that offer protection and makes use of salt to defend herself against enemies.

There is also an interesting mechanic of balancing three key metres: Body - Jess’s physical health, Mind - Jess’s mental health and Spirit - essentially her mana - how much magic you’ll be able to use. By getting Jess to meditate, you can adjust these metres, depleting one to boost another. Balancing all three metres is essential for overcoming the challenges Jess will face.

There’s an absence of any real stealth which to me feels like a missed opportunity, as it could have enriched exploration and encounter strategies. Incorporating stealth elements would have seamlessly aligned with the game's ambiance, offering players alternative methods to navigate the erie island and engage with the corrupted inhabitants. This is no Assassin's Creed but the bushes would have made for great stealth takedowns for example - Jess is adept at magic I suppose so it's a trade off.

One critique lies in the rapid acceleration of the plot, catapulting from 0 to 100 without so much as a pause for breath. While this pace can intensify the sense of urgency, some players might yearn for a more gradual buildup of tension and suspense, allowing for a deeper unfolding terror.

An aspect I can only say is a nitpick is with Jess's seemingly instantaneous mastery of magic, oh sorry, prismatic science, without any training or learning curve. This inexplicable proficiency might detract from the sense of character progression and immersion for some players, potentially warranting a more nuanced approach to skill development within the narrative and gameplay mechanics. Though it’s obviously easy to overlook and rather just, again, enjoy the game for its own sake.

By amalgamating inspirations from iconic sources, melding analogue horror with spiritual science, and crafting a richly detailed world akin to aforementioned influences, THE CHANT presents a daft yet enjoyable experience.

By embracing design choices reminiscent of past generations, the game blends familiar gameplay mechanics with missed opportunities, creating an engaging yet imperfect journey into the new weird.

#games review #games #the chant

2 notes · View notes

mudkipmann · 2 months ago

Text

Part III

Scene: Climbing the Slopes of Mount Doom

The air thickens with smoke, ash swirling in violent gusts around Poppy, Nori, Gaydolf, and Marissa as they climb the treacherous slopes of Mount Doom. Molten rivers of lava bubble and hiss beneath them, lighting the dark, forbidding land of Mordor in flickers of hellish red. Every step grows heavier, the weight of the rings pulling on Poppy like chains.

As they approach an impossible ledge, the party pauses, staring at the sheer rock face. The path seems insurmountable.

Nori, panting: “Well, if this isn’t a right spot of trouble, I don’t know what is…”

Gaydolf steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he raises his staff. He knows what must be done. With his last reserves of power, he begins chanting, his voice straining as he summons a levitation spell.

Gaydolf, breathlessly: “I’ll lift you all. But… this might be it for me.”

One by one, Poppy, Nori, and Marissa are lifted through the air, their feet dangling as they soar up to the ledge. Gadoff’s face is etched with pain, the strain of maintaining the spell evident. As the last of them lands safely on the ledge, Gaydolf’s strength falters. His magic is spent. He collapses to his knees, his chest heaving as he gasps for air.

Gaydolf, shouting from below: “Go! You have to take the rings, Poppy! Nori, you keep her on the right path! And Marissa… you better keep your word!”

Marissa hisses, her eyes gleaming in the dim light of volcanic fire.

Marissa, snarling: “Quiet, stupid human!”

With a final surge of power, Gaydolf sends a wave of energy down the mountain, a small eruption of magma formed against the Uruk-hai chasing them. Flames engulf the dark soldiers, their screams lost in the roar of Mount Doom itself.

The Inner Caldera of the Crater

Poppy, Nori, and Marissa turn toward the inner crater, its molten heart glowing ominously before them. The sheer heat is unbearable, but Marissa seems unfazed, her eyes wide with excitement as she scurries ahead.

Marissa, cackling: “Come, come! Shiny hot lava bath awaits the shinies! The precious, yes, the precious!”

Nori looks nervously at Poppy, who clutches the pouch of rings, her face pale and her hands trembling.

Nori, trying to lighten the mood: “Well, we’ve really gone and boiled our taters this time, haven’t we?”

But Poppy doesn’t respond. Her eyes are fixed on the pouch in her hands, her thoughts dark and heavy.

Poppy’s Inner Struggle

Standing at the very edge of the crack in Mount Doom, Poppy looks down into the pouch. The three Silmaril-adorned elven rings glow with ethereal beauty, while the others shimmer darkly, as if beckoning to her. The temptation washes over her like a wave.

Poppy’s Inner Dialogue: They’re too beautiful… too powerful. I could save the Harfoots. We could have everything. No more hiding. No more running. We’d be safe. We’d be great. I could do it…

But deep down, she knows what the rings really are—tools of domination, forged by evil.

Sauron’s Realization

On the battlefield, Sauron suddenly stops mid-strike. His connection to the rings flares, and he hears their call, as though they are screaming for their master. His eyes widen, and he turns toward Mordor, the realization dawning upon him.

Sauron, snarling: “No!”

Across from him, Galadriel fights valiantly, but she knows, too, what has happened. She smirks knowingly.

Galadriel, calm and defiant: “It will be done.”

Sauron’s rage boils over. His voice roars across the battlefield.

Sauron, furious: “You betray all of Middle-earth! I could have united everyone! And I won’t let you stop me!”

Galadriel, standing tall: “No, Sauron. It’s too late. She will succeed.”

Back at Mount Doom

Poppy stands at the edge, staring into the pouch. Nori watches her friend, the concern etched into her voice.

Nori, softly: “What are you doing, Poppy?”

Marissa, lurking nearby, peers into the pouch as well, her eyes gleaming with greed.

Marissa, excitedly: “Yes, yes, all the shinies! Everything… it all belongs to me!”

She lunges for the pouch, and Poppy instinctively pulls it away. Nori steps forward, panic rising in her voice.

Nori, louder now: “Poppy, no! What are you doing?”

In that moment, Poppy wavers, the rings’ power surging through her. They speak to her, promising safety, glory, and power for the Harfoots. A vision of a glorious future flashes in her mind—where she is the ruler of a peaceful, united Middle-earth.

Poppy’s Inner Dialogue: I could save them. I could save all of them…

The Struggle

Suddenly, Marissa leaps at Poppy, her hands grasping at the pouch. Nori, panicking, reaches out to stop her. The three of them become locked in a desperate tug-of-war, their hands fumbling over the pouch as it dangles precariously over the edge of the fiery chasm.

The rings pulse with dark energy, the balance of Middle-earth hanging in the balance—literally.

Conclusion

The trio wrestles for control of the pouch, teetering dangerously on the edge of the lava pit. The fate of Middle-earth rests on Poppy’s next decision. Will she find the strength to let go? Or will the lure of power be too much for even her to resist?

As the struggle reaches its peak, Sauron’s voice echoes in her mind. The rings scream for their master. But somewhere deep inside, Poppy knows what must be done. She takes a deep breath…

And lets go.

The pouch slips from their grasp, plummeting into the fiery depths below.

0 notes

aamirastories · 10 months ago

Text

Part 4

We're still not back with Ammy yet, but I promise it's coming! Until then...

Tracking Station Atlantis

March 10th, 2023

All my training. All those times watching my colleagues as they helped me figure out the systems I would be using. A lot of “you’ll probably never need to do this but..” and “it’s rare but..” had come to this.

I looked over my console, looking around the other 40 or so consoles in the room, someone at each of them, headsets on, punching away at their keyboards, then looking up at the larger screen.

I looked at the screen again and it showed a picture of Earth. Notably the northern hemisphere, centred on the northern US, somewhere around New York. A circle was flashing in the top-right, a dotted line drawn from it to somewhere over New Jersey, a counter at the bottom of the screen. 10 minutes, 25 seconds. The circle moved slowly towards the Planet.

I looked back at my terminal. Speed: 3000km/h. Distance: 500km.

The distance was counting down. A voice in my headset called to me.

“Tracking - any change in current speed?” the voice said.

“No - it remains 3000km/h”, I replied.

We had been tracking this for roughly 3 hours. Once it had come up on our radars, and we had checked the trajectory, three times just to be sure, it was confirmed it was going to impact the planet. The only thing we were unsure of was whether it would burn up in the atmosphere or impact. The damage wouldn’t be huge, but anywhere this thing hit, it would likely be a heavily populated area.

As the countdown proceeded, the area of impact grew smaller as the systems were better able to calculate its trajectory. Colleagues were calculating populations likely to be killed, satellites it may hit, tracking ISS orbits. Teams were working on ways to take this, what we had called an asteroid by now, out of the sky before it hit.

An hour prior, we were ordered to hand our phones and smartwatches in. No knowledge of this was to leave the room. Only people way higher up than us were allowed to know about this, and it was stressed to us that the consequences of inadvertent disclosure of information would be extreme.

6 minutes. Every time my mind wandered; this thing hurtled ever closer. We were based in Nevada so well clear of the potential impact zone, but no-one knew what this thing was made of, and hence how it could be affected once it hit our atmosphere.

5 minutes. The impact zone had been confirmed. Population estimates were taken, and colleagues rushed frantically around the room with printouts covered in numbers, none of which I could discern but the looks on their faces were not revealing anything good.

3 minutes. It had entered the atmosphere. Albeit slowed, its impact zone did not change. There was no time now to engage it. We just had to wait. I stared, transfixed – 3 minutes until projected impact. Missiles we launched altered the course of the object slightly but not enough. Now we could only watch on helplessly and brace for the aftermath.

My colleagues murmured stats back and forth, faces tight with stress. Estimates of casualty numbers – anywhere from 50,000 to 2 million – we had no idea of even what this was and hence our numbers ranged wildly. Outside our sealed room, I knew panic must be setting in but our job was to keep watching. Unable to save anyone.

2 minutes. We stopped. We all held our breath as we watched the countdown. What would happen. I briefly cast my mind to the people there. I could do nothing. I felt powerless. My heart raced. I felt myself bargaining irrationally with fate, a chant repeating in my head. ‘Please burn up, please burn up!’ I told myself. Now we could only witness whatever unfolded next. Ominous quiet filled the room. Heads bowed; eyes shut tight against the nightmarish reality hurtling towards potentially millions of people.

1 minute 11 seconds. The circle disappeared.

“TARGET LOST”

We all looked round at each other. Was that good? Had it just gone under radar? Too small now to detect maybe? The farthest corner of the room frantically worked before they whispered to each other. The team leader of this part of the room, the primary tracking team, stood up and we were silent.

“Target burnt up in the atmosphere. We have confirmation no fragments have been detected. Visual tracking has confirmed the object exploded in the atmosphere with nil further fragments seen.”

Another second and cheers erupted. Those 3 desperate hours, watching that circle inch its way ever closer, threatening us with every pressing moment, was gone. I sighed a deep relief and collapsed in my chair. We skated the razor’s edge today, and I was exhausted. I needed a drink.

0 notes

moonxbat98 · 1 year ago

Text

Kingdom Fall

Before deciding to spill her blood over the hot coals at her choosing ceremony and training to become a true Dauntless member Amity-born Anna never felt accepted in her faction. Neither did she feel safe among the community when all they knew was how to act like nothing was wrong —even if bad things were happening right under their noses and lurked behind the most innocent of faces. Although nothing could compare to the insurmountable weight that came with the knowledge Anna's aptitude test was inconclusive, being told she was Divergent. Being told ominously that she needed to be careful and to watch her back; two things she knew how to do well already.

As a little girl Anna had a small circle of friends, but they eventually stopped hanging out with her after the unexpected death of her father; when her frightened, push-over mother began dating again and met Andrew. The man who would use his charm to slither his way into their lives and torment them behind closed doors once he had what he wanted. Nothing had felt the same to Anna since their marriage, not even the love that used to come from her mother's touch. But being in a toxic home environment didn't change the fact that she planned on choosing Dauntless at her choosing ceremony, nor did being Divergent —she just wanted to be free. To be strong and brave, to survive.

There was one thing Anna wasn't expecting when joining the Dauntless ranks though and that was Eric. One of her leaders during initiation; stoic, moody and almost three times her size. His gaze alone seemed to burn holes through her body the first time they met, icy blue like glaciers glaring daggers at her. Eric was as quick to temper as she was quick to smart off, something she needed to learn how to control —and fast if she wanted to make it through the trials of training. Another thing Anna needed to learn how to control was not to piss off Eric too bad, or she just might end up factionless. But something about him just keeps getting under her skin and she doesn't understand why he keeps putting up with her attitudes.

The Choosing Ceremony: Part 1

Raise Hell

Bored.

Anna felt her eyelids trying to shut of their own accord, thought she chanted in her mind: stay awake, stay awake.

Stay, a-fucking-wake.

She wasn’t quite comfortable though, the position she was in. Wedged between her step-father (abusive asshole) and her mother (the lamb in the lion’s den) in a row of stiff, plastic chairs. Surrounded by smiling, juiced-up crowd of other Amity citizens.

Fools, the lot of them.

Hopped up on happy serum. Everyone always gets a dose of the sickly sweet, bright pink liquid once a week. It was a potent potion made to “keep the sins of anger at bay,” which Anna found absolutely ridiculous.

It felt like a violation of free will.

She happened to like the idea of free will. It was something she longed for and had wanted for many years. Especially when her mother Kimberly decided she wanted to settle down with the man who tormented them both on a daily basis, which Anna could not stand. At all.

Sometimes she would lay in her bed at night, unable to sleep and covered in bruises, feeling sorry for her mother. Sometimes Anna thought her mother would have been better off growing a spine, just like she did.

She didn’t want to accept the abuse any longer, especially after the incident almost a year ago on her sixteenth birthday. It was the most terrifying moment she ever experienced in her life.

The night was rainy, but it wasn’t noiseless. She could hear the faint melody of the Amity sector. The shrill singing of small children, the merry laughter of adults. It was all outside of her house though. There was a different kind of noise inside her home, where happiness and joy seemed a million miles away.

It was the sound of silence, a calm before the storm. The atmosphere in the house was thick and could not be cut so easily with a knife. A heavy, ominous presence hung in between the casual “pass the salt” or “how was school today?” chatter. No “did you have a good day?”

No “happy birthday, sweetie.”

Andrew sat at her left at the kitchen table during dinner, as quiet and menacing as a snake slithering in the grassy fields. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Strike you dead, if by the look on his face.

Something was getting under his skin bad and her mother was doing nothing except cowering in her seat to her right, trying to keep up a happy charade with a fake smile plastered on her face. It faltered often, but no one ever commented.

No one cared enough to speak out and ask some serious questions.

To involve themselves in our family drama, to help.

Help was not something the Amity community usually gave out, from kindness of their hearts or just out of pure curiosity. Why does Anna keep to herself and always has a negative outlook on life? Why does Kimberly never talk to anyone?

To everyone else, Andrew is viewed as an angel. A model citizen with a charming attitude and good soul.

If only the Amity people would stop turning a blind eye to everything around them. Maybe the world would really be a better place. Everyone just might be able to get along.

Then Andrew turned to her with a smile on his face, it was sudden and filled with dazzling teeth. He was a handsome man for his age, mid-forties with a head full of thick salt and pepper hair. Green eyes the color of jade, staring her down with malice. Hardened and angry.

What had she done this time? She was being responsive to every question or comment, asked by either of them. Eating her dinner quietly otherwise, head bent down to avoid confrontation. It was a defense mechanism Anna knew worked best with Andrew and most of the time she tried hard to keep her step-father placate.

This was how you survived in her house.

“How was your day, baby girl?”

What.

The.

Fuck.

Anna snapped to attention, her startled dark-blue eyes meeting the amused expression on Andrew’s face. She was taken aback at the pet name, one she hadn’t heard him use in years, and glanced at her mother.

She hesitated, a pause of breath which irritated Andrew.

Kimberly was staring at her second husband with the look of a frightened animal, gaping mouth and teary-eyed. There was something in her eyes, all wide and watery, that made Anna’s blood run cold.

It was a look she only saw once.

The first time Andrew took his anger out on them.

But that was then and this is now.

Andrew was glaring at Anna now, slamming his knife down on the table. “When I ask a question I expect you to know the answer immediately and respond back to me. Have we not had this conversation before?”

Her mother surprised her.

She spoke out against Andrew, although as timid and small as the plea was.

“Andrew, don’t. Please.”

Andrew turned away from Anna then, but Anna knew it would only be brief and the strike would be swift. Once for speaking out of turn, across the mouth.

Twice for telling him what to do, on the hand.

Three times for standing up to him, which Anna only experienced one time.

It made her angry. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this. Her fingers gripped tightly to her silverware as she studied the scene before her.

Prepared to either watch as her step-father descended upon her mother or step in between the two with the threat of a studded belt across the ass.

Andrew was satisfied only mildly when Kimberly shrunk even further into her chair and raised an eyebrow, “Why not? You never said anything when I brought it up before. So I obviously assumed I had the right to ask Anna herself.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

What in the flying fuck was going on between these two?

Something was off with both of them, a feeling of dread filling the pit of her stomach making it toss and turn the food contents she was previously piling down her throat.

Though fear crept in there was also confusion and mild curiosity. Alarm bells rang off in her head though. Voices telling her to run away, get up from the table and run away, get away from the whole situation now.

Kimberly glanced over at her daughter and choked on a sob, “Happy birthday. I love you, baby, I hope you know that.”

She felt sick suddenly, then jumped to her feet at the feeling of a rough hand brushing her thigh. Anna felt the scream in her throat, but managed to keep it from filling the house.

Andrew would not like that.

It could have been a mistake.

But he was grinning at her now, glancing from the expression on her face to the face of her mother. Kimberly felt anger course through her momentarily and she blurted out, “Stop it! Don’t you touch her like that.”

In an instant, as fast as a lightning bolt appearing and disappearing, Andrew was on his feet with the knife and leaping over the table at Kimberly.

Anna felt her vision blur for a moment, then go blood red at hearing her mother’s horrifying scream. She heard the plates fall from the table and shatter, heard the chair her mother was sitting in hit the ground with a thud as he tackled her to the floor.

It filled her with absolute rage.

Andrew had only intended on scaring Kimberly, threatening her with the knife against the throat, but enraged as Anna jumped onto his back he flung her off with ease.

Then turned to her, a frightening smile on his face.

The smile of a psychopath.

“You see, I had a little talk with your mother the other night after dinner. It was really interesting. You left rather quickly, talking about how you were going to check up on a friend before bed. That was a mistake, you know. You have no friends.”

Anna was winded, having hit the table with her shoulders which scraped it’s wooden legs across the oak flooring, and hitched a breath at Andrew’s words. At this point Kimberly was scrambling away, for the stairs, leaving Anna to fend for herself.

Why wouldn’t her mother do something about this man?

What was going on this time?

“As you know your mother is 8 years older than I am and these past couple of years together have not suited her well. But you, my dear, have grown into a fine young woman and I feel it may be time for a change around here.”

She scrambled to her feet, prepared now to defend herself until she couldn’t.

This was one battle she wasn’t going down without a fight for.

What needed to change was his ego, his pride. His sadistic cruelty.

Andrew was faster, grabbing onto her legs as she started to run. He lunged at her like a football linebacker and they both fell to the floor. He laughed when she wriggled underneath him and fought to turn her on her back.

“Come on, don’t you want to wrestle with your step-daddy?”

Since then Anna began to train during her free time. Of course there was no use for gym equipment in Amity because of the farming business, but she had seen videos on her tablet (stolen from one of the Erudite-born at school) on how to build muscle and strength.

Exercise videos that were played during health class, but not performed in the school. There was no physical education in her school that required actual physical labor. That was saved for after school. Chores, either at home or on the farm.

She didn’t want to ever be put in that position again. Since that night Anna was preparing herself, physically and mentally, for the choosing ceremony. The choosing ceremony she was finally attending after six months of hard work and waiting. She would be free.

She would finally be happy.

Andrew was expecting her to remain in Amity, he had said so himself the night before, but Kimberly had not spoken a word in three days.

Anna glanced back and forth between them both, hiding behind a curtain of pale blonde hair. It was freshly washed as of this morning and she was wearing tan shorts with a bright, yellow tank-top. She knew once she chose Dauntless she would be running towards the train with the other initiates, she always came to the ceremonies with her “family” and she loved watching the Dauntless run for the fast-moving locomotive.

They were always shouting and screaming, but out of pure excitement.

It was their new beginning and now it would be her new beginning.

Although sitting quiet and stiff among the other Amity she was listening for the names of each new Dauntless initiate.

Hardy, Ian. Candor.

Higgins, Samantha. Erudite.

Jonas, Zeke. Candor.

Larson, Holiday. Abnegation.

Maddox, Avery. Erudite.

Marsden, Jamie. Abnegation.

“Thatcher, Anna.”

It was time.

Her time.

0 notes