#EDIT: the void has spoken back

[jjinpang]

“Chiaki. If this is another false alarm, I’m eating you.”

[arcielee]

She Walks in Starlight

Summary: A goddess comes to ask for help to save her friends. Paring: Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Word Count: 4358 Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest.   Author's Note: So, the whole Aemond as Hades trope has been done before BUT NOT BY ME so lets go. My inspiration came from this Aemond drawing: artist. It’s so nifty. Also, huge shout out to @aspen-carter for her ceaseless patience and helping me edit this. I am so grateful to have her as a friend because her writing is just top tier and her insight is so wonderful. ♥ Also! Gō vys is Valyrian for Under world. Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @aaaaaamond (slash means I am unable to tag you)  Series:  Act I -  Act II - Act III

ACT I

“Little goddess, you are far away from where you belong.”

This was the truth spoken, for she never before dared venture away from her mother’s watchful gaze, never pressing beyond the boundary she swore she implemented for safety. Today it was fate that propelled her soft steps to follow the trodden pathway that wove from her realm into his. 

His tone was low and voiced with authority, but she did not feel threatened despite the grim scenery she now found herself in. The Underworld seemed just a shadowed, desolate reflection of the mortal realm above; it was not shroud in darkness, mostly void of pigmentation save the veily blue hue that enveloped all around. She watched the souls make their way towards the ferryman, unaware their fluid steps were not solid against the grey sand that spread the shore of the river Styx. 

“Aïdōneús,” she used the ancient moniker, for who else would be present other than the lordship to the realm of death? She spoke his name as she heard from the hushed whispers of the mortals, who were afraid to misstate and bring unwanted attention from the king of the dead. For her, it was an ancient tongue known to the gods and it spilled like a sweet nectar from her wet lips. She pressed on the ball of her foot to turn and face him. 

Throughout the ages, many adjectives have been used to describe him and beautiful was the first to her mind. 

The contours of his face were sharp as the marble stones that the mortals would carve the gods’ likeness into and it gave a severity to his expression. She saw the left side of his face, marred from his heroism from the tales of the Titanomachy, with a gash that began above his brow and cut through, curling into his cheek. His bravery had been rewarded with his kingship of the Gō vys and a brilliant sapphire stone that was set into his scarred socket. 

Cold and stern, was often used, a firm accountability held for the laws held. Monstrous. Menacing. She assumed these descriptors were spoken by cowards, for all she could see was an esthetical deity.

He towered over her, his arms were tucked behind his back and it emphasized his broad shoulders. Silver scars littered over, brilliant streaks in contrast to the plum chiton draped over his lithe figure with golden thread knotted around his slender waist. The dark tones he wore gave a luminous intensity to his alabaster skin, like a godly beacon in the realm of grey. 

He kept his distance, but she saw his head tilt from the gleam of the red ruby set in his crown and the soft glimmer of his silver tresses that spilled forward with his subtle movement. 

“I have come to ask you something,” she continued, her voice unsteady, but her eyes boldly returned his steady gaze.

There was a haunting beauty to the mismatched coloring of his stare, his lavender eye and the glint of his sapphire eye, that caused her heart to reverberate within her chest.

“You traveled all this way to ask me a question?” His baritone continued and there was a flicker of amusement, the slight curl to his lips with his mellifluous words. “Please ask so I may best assist the goddess of spring.”

She felt the flush of pleasure. He knows who you are, the thought flutters throughout her head and she cannot stop her smile. “I wanted to ask if it was at all possible for a soul to be returned to the mortal realm?” 

A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat and he took a deliberate step to close the space between them; the flicker of amusement is gone, his expression now as cool as the marble it was carved from. “This cannot be done, little goddess,” his silver words carefully chosen for his silver tongue. “It is the fate of every mortal to die and once that threshold is crossed, they cannot return to that life.” 

Her renewed grief comes with its sickening hold, clenching her heart and the threat of tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed thickly, only then breaking her bold stare and instead she looked over the spirits that continued forward, awaiting their turn to cross. 

It should have been me.

“Who did you lose?”

His soft tone pulled her attention back and she can see his brow is furrowed. “My friends,” she refused to cry in front of the king, no matter the kindly concern etched onto his features in the moment. “They were taken suddenly and do not have the gold to pay the passage.” 

He hummed a second time, still low but thoughtful. “They are not yet lost, little goddess,” and the familiar curl of his bow lips gives her the flutter of hope. “Come back tomorrow and we can see what may be done, but,” his gaze rolled over her, locking onto her face once again. “I would advise not to return empty handed when you come to beg a favor from the king of the Underworld.” 

+ + + + + + +

He dared teased the goddess of spring and then he relished in her response to the reminder of such a timeless courtesy. The rose coloring flushed her ivory tones, her embarrassment clashed with the thrum of her vitality beneath and it brought out the sun speckles across her nose and cheeks. 

How divine the thought of his lips to kiss each one. 

She left chagrined and he was certain he would not see her again, save the movements when he would slip to the surface for a reprieve from the dead, a shadow in watch of the gods who resided in the mortal realm. He had not expected her to return the following day and with a basket she showed was filled with delicacies of cheeses, olives, figs, and more.

He saw her coming, her steps almost familiar with the pathway that led to his realm. “You returned, little goddess,”  it was a statement more so than a question. 

“I have, Aïdōneús.” 

Aïdōneús. A name long forgotten, spurned from the fear it held amongst mortals, but she was dauntless with her pronunciation, just as she was bold with her stare. It was the sweetest sound, both familiar and unfamiliar, a sound that he would spend his immortality to follow its every behest.  

Even though her tone was cool, he noted her white knuckled hold on the wicker basket. “I have returned and I have brought you an offering,” she continued, shifting her weight to rest it on her hip. “You also may call me by name or you may call me Kore, if you desire.”

Desire. There is an unbridled fervor in his gaze as it rolled over her curves, so sinfully wrapped in the peplos linen but his posture remained reserved, his arms crossed behind and one foot stanced.  

“As you wish, Kore.” 

He did not say another word and his hand reached for hers; he was pleased that she took it without hesitation and his skin prickled from the warmth of her palm. He whisked her forward and he felt her grip tighten, looking back to see her eyes wide from the abrupt movement. He pulled her closer to his chest, his other arm wrapping around her waist with a firm hold. 

He brought her to a pomegranate tree that is curled on a ledge overlooking the knolls of silver grass, decorated with aimless spirits. 

There was almost an ache when he released his hold and he kept his arms open, watching to make sure her steps are balanced on the solid earth. “I apologize,” his voice was almost sheepish with his realization. “I am so used to getting around and I forget…” 

He is grateful that she does not press him to finish his thought. Instead, he fell back and watched as she spread the cloth, the white billow of fabric that settled on the ground, and placed the basket in the center. She offered to pour him a glass of wine and only then does he take a seat, breaking the bread, while he shared that their view is the asphodel meadows where good souls reside, a neutral ground for peaceful spirits. 

He wanted to bring her here and show her. “This is where your friends will eventually be,” he finished, lifting his goblet to his lips. 

Her eyes watched the bob of his neck as he drank the wine and she admitted, “This seems so dreadfully dull for the good souls.” 

“They no longer have the tedious shackles forced on them from the mortal realm,” his lips curled upwards with his further explanation. “They feel nothing and this allows them contentment to wander these fields.” 

Her nose scrunched. “I understand this,” she breaks a piece of the bread, allowing the wine to dye it red. “That, however, does not change my initial opinion.” 

This is a moment that broke through the kingly demeanor that he carried with his every step, his every movement within the cosmos. She watched, wide eyed and rosy, as his laughter lines his cheeks with dimples, the king of the Gō vys has dimples! She savored the genuineness of this moment and she cannot help but giggle as well. “It is beautiful, though,” she continued with a shy smile. “I see why you chose this spot.” 

His demeanor darkened and he smirked. “Kore, this pales in comparison to your springly creations. I only brought you to show you the bit of vegetation that can survive within my realm.” 

She tilted her head upwards, looking at the deep burgundy of the ripe pomegranates that hung low on the branches. “Are they edible?” 

He leaned onto his side, propped up onto one elbow and his fingers traced the decoration of the gilded goblet. “It is, but without the same savory flavors as,” and he gestured towards the basket that slowly empties with their picnic. “There is a cost of their consumption,” he cannot help the edge of bitterness to his voice. 

Her eyes widen, not with fright but curiosity, to the animosity of his words. “What is the cost?”

“Anything eaten or drank chains you to the realm,” he answered, solemn, and was surprised by the glint in her eyes. 

It draws his gaze to her and, again, he can see the thrum of her ichor beneath her ivory skin, her eyes focused on him and framed with dark lashes, her stare as dauntless as earlier. 

“It is the cost to rule a kingdom,” she offered, blinking and it is seemingly gone, her expression now doleful as it looks over the silver hills that spread infinitely before them. “It is better than to be destined to be the forgotten goddess, tied to her mother’s shadow and just a decoration who nurtures flowers.”  

He was watchful in this somber moment; there was a silence that was not uncomfortable, but he felt the returned fervor from before to ask more, to understand more. There was a tingle in his fingertips to reach for her hand, to knit his fingers so perfectly with her own, just so she may remember she was not alone. 

Instead, he waited.

She pulled herself to stand and reached her hand towards him, the radiance of her smile returning, a divine glow amongst the eerie meadow. “Come and show me more of your kingdom.”

And he obliged her. 

+ + + + + + +

Time, she learned, was different in the Underworld. 

She allowed herself to tour the Gō vys, tucked so close to his side and allowing him to show his kingdom, from the Asphodel to the Erebus, to watch the passage of Acheron and learn the ferryman was men, twins who let a foolish misunderstanding result in the simultaneous slay and he offered them an alternative to serve him. She met Vhagar, the rumored three headed beast who in truth wished for belly rubs and she happily inclined. 

There was a panicked realization when she resurfaced and saw the moon bore overhead. Her steps were quick homewards, muttering prayers to Gaia, to Rhaenys, to whomever was listening and she begged her mother would be unaware of the time lost. 

“You smell of death.”

Rhaenyra was the golden goddess of harvest and fertility, her mother the very embodiment of the sacred laws of the cosmos. Her eyes narrowed on her arrival, but she managed only a hint of anger to touch her overwhelming interrogative tone. “Where have you been, Kore?”

She hummed a lie, something enough to dissuade further suspicion her mother may hold, just a silly little goddess who had gotten lost within the cosmos. She continued to add another promise she would never dare return. 

This was another lie. 

“Aïdōneús,” she greeted him the next day and was pleased with his expression, which was almost incredulous at her return. 

“Kore,” he responded with the same warmth, the curl of his lip when he reached for her hand. She allowed him to take it without thought, a blush crept over as he brought her knuckles to his lips, the tickle of his breath to her skin. “Please, I meant to say this yesterday,” he did not release his hold, his dichromatic gaze watchful. “You may call me just Aemond, if you wish.” 

“Aemond,” and she said his name with the same sweetness and reverence, enjoying her familiarity with the king and how the rose color dusts his cheeks when she repeats it. “I admit, I have come to ask another favor.” 

“More souls you wish to return to the mortal realm?” 

He regretted his words the moment they left his lips, when he saw the pain that danced across her eyes. His apology was caught in his throat, the explanation for his tasteless jest, but she already shook her head and that pain was gone. 

“I wish to show you a place that is dear to me,” but her tone is careful. “Are you able to come with me to the mortal realm?” 

I would go anywhere you asked of me, he does not say and instead he nodded, the shimmer of his silver hair. “I can leave, though not for long periods of time,” he shifted his gaze. “It is a tether to the Underworld. There is a pull, almost an ache, that grows the longer I am away.”  

A smile returned to her lips, pink and inviting. “I will not keep you too long from the duties of your kingdom,” she promised and offered her hand to him. 

Traveling within the Gō vys requires a celerity to his movements; there is a rush of wind with his quick motion from one place to the next, whereas she seems to frolick, pulling to keep him at her pace as they flit from the shadows and move towards a small isle. At first glance, it only holds the wreckage of the temple to appease the averter of evil, its ruin ironically from a temper tantrum of the gods. 

“But why here?” Aemond was curious as he looked over the cracked stylobate and the broken pillars split, with stone embedded into the soft earth around them. 

“There is beauty in the broken,” she smiled and pulled him to follow. “After Daemon and his temper tantrum, the mortals abandoned it, but I wished for it to blossom with new life.” 

He watched her climb over a fallen pillar and she peered up to him, beckoning him to follow. He dropped softly at her side, while the soft echo of her words, there is beauty in the broken, remained in his ear. Aemond saw her focus was ahead and he followed her gaze. 

His eye followed the curl of a turquoise moss that curled and decorated the stones, blooming with pastels. It continued to the reflection of the morning dew glittering off the almost iridescent petals, gleaming brilliant in the rising run; it showed the sea scheme of colors that stretched around them.

She was the goddess of spring, of vitality personified, and he is the darkness. But in this serene moment, there was an emotion, an almost tangible passion that entangled with the ichor of his veins when she reached for his hand again.

There was a spark as their palms fit together, as his slender fingers curled around her hand. “It is beautiful,” he said and his tongue wet his lips. 

She peered at him, the flutter of her own heart when she saw how his features softened in the intimacy of the moment, a satisfaction to be privy to the reserved pleasure that played on his face. There was the intrusive thought that begged her to touch his jaw, to press up to her tiptoes and dare to taste his mouth, and she wished to bring back a piece to his kingdom, just so she could relive the hint of his smile on his lips. 

“It is,” she agreed, tucking the thought away. 

+ + + + + + +

That night, she tucked herself into the athenaeum to pour over the scrolls her mother stored away, with Rhaenyra both pleased and proud of her rekindled passion for her role within the cosmos. 

Kore did not correct her. She needed her focus to return to what initially brought her to the Underworld, the fate she shelved and the growing burden with that neglect. She told herself that Aemond would be more amenable with an offering more tailored for the god of death, but in truth, she also wished to understand the growing thrum beneath her breastbone whenever she was within his proximity. 

There was a simple spell that would serve both. 

Though he would never admit to waiting for her, she was still pleased to see him on the edge of the plane, close enough for the sunlight to touch and give an ethereal glow to his chiseled features. There was a gentle breeze through his silver, silk tresses and she stopped her steps so she could admire him, the glimmer. 

He tilted his head. “Kore, what is it?”  

“Aemond,” she breathed. “You really are beautiful.” 

His jaw steeled with the compliment and she was quick to grab his hand, leading him below like a silver beacon into the blue hue of the Gō vys. Once they were in the shadowed realm, she turned to press against his chest, her softness melting against him and with her whisper, “Aemond, take me back to the meadows.” 

He, of course, obliged her. 

There was a comfort with how his arms, so strong and lined with silver scars, wrapped around her waist with a hold she knew could be trusted. The jarring movement still caused her stomach to lurch, but it was quickly replaced with the exhilarating rush and her laughter spilled from her lips. Only when she felt the tickle of the silver grass beneath her soles did he finally release his hold of her and they were back beneath the pomegranate tree. 

She curled with grace onto its roots and beckoned him to follow. He paused for a moment to appreciate how her robes nestled against her curves before he sits, close enough, with one leg up to rest his forearm on and the other arm pressing himself upright, his palm resting on the earth. His expression begs curiosity, but he is quiet. 

Kore and her sweet smile elicited his hummed response and he watched as she began to rub her palms together. A soft glow emitted between and her focus returned to Aemond, a golden goddess with the light, before she pressed her hands to the ground. Her eyes closed for a moment, her thoughts poured into the practice incantation with the wordless flutter of her lips. 

She opened her eyes and smiled again, his gaze shyly dropped to watch her hands lift and reveal the bolt of green that begins to stem upwards. He watched as its leaves unfurled and the red bulbs bunched together began to blossom.

His expression is one of awe, his jaw slack from seeing the life sprout from the grey earth and flourish with color before him. Aemond looked pained when she reached to pluck one, cupping it in her palms with a whisper, the same golden glow, before she presented him the enchanted flower, the petals unbruised and a vibrant red. 

“This will match the ruby in your crown,” she explained, shifting her weight to look at him. 

His expression was stoic, just a red reflection in his sapphire eye. “What are they called?” He asked when she opened his palm, his fingers spread as if his touch would shatter it. 

“These are called snapdragons,” she shared, her pride aglow with her creation, her validation. “They are able to handle the cooler weather, but their lifespans are not very long, which is why,” and her fingertips tickled his palm as she picked it up, careful to pin it to his chiton, “I made this one for you. This one will never wilt.” 

His gaze fell to it, his slender fingers pressed into the fabric around where she snugly fastened it, still cautious to touch. “Is this magic?”

He did not see the touch of pink to her cheeks, how she hemmed for her words to reply to him. 

She sought out this spell in the archives of her mother’s anethum, that would allow a flower to eternally hold its blossomed vibrance with a condition in place, an emotion from the spellcaster, something that hinted its existence from the day they spent together at the temple.

An emotion she felt irresolute to share now. 

She had thought it to be carnal at first. Desire, the unbridled passion that hummed within her when she first laid eyes on the god of death and his aery beauty. It was a fervor that burned within her as she drank his deliberate movements, the glimmer of his silver hair, the perpetual smirk that played on his pink, bow lips. 

This will fade, she told herself. She returned, undeterred and with purpose to save her companions, the fate that brought her to the Gō vys to begin. With her offering rested on her hip, she allowed herself to be swept away in his arms, flitting further into his kingdom. It was his touch that sparked something more, the sweet candor of their conversation, how she swore his steady gaze able to see her bones beneath. 

She felt confirmation at the temple ruins, from the moment she watched the colors of her masterpiece absorb into the exquisiteness he carried with him. She saw something, she felt something. 

There is beauty in the broken.

He was a timeless deity that had seen the fall of Titans and she was only the little goddess of spring. 

In part, she was proud of her power that grew, the vibrant glow of the snapdragon, but she also knew it stemmed from an emotion from her that he would never reciprocate. 

So all she said was, “Yes. Magic.” 

Her cheeks grew warmer still with his steady gaze, her silent prayers that he would not press for the truth of it because she knows she would never be able to lie to him. Aemond seemed to accept the words and then said, “I accept your offering, Kore. Tell me your favor and I swear I will do the best that I am able.” 

So she spoke of the fate that brought her to the Underworld. “I wish to pay the passage for two souls.” 

Her question did not anger him, but there is a sadness that crept to his features. “Kore, I would not be able to allow this,” he sighed, unable to look her in the eyes. “If I am to make an exception for you, I would have to offer the same courtesy to the rest and…” there is a pregnant pause, a moment that allowed her to choke on the emotion that threatened to break through and she saw the glimmer of silver when he tilted his head to watch her. 

“Persephone,” he said with his low baritone. “Why do you ask for this? What brought you to my realm?” 

She wore her shame like the chiton draped over her curves. Her tongue wet her lips as her mind tried for the words to express the suffocating guilt that built with her every visit. Begin at the beginning. On that day, there had been an enchanted flower that she and her companions, Baela and Rhaena, came upon. 

“A flower,” Aemond hummed, his expression unreadable. 

His comment left her feeling childish, ashamed to admit what followed. The flower seemed otherworldly, its petals glittered in the sunlight and beckoned to her, but she balked and stayed within the parameters Rhaenyra had placed. Baela and Rhaena teased at her sudden shyness, pushing beyond and dared to pluck it. 

In return, the earth rumbled to split open and swallowed them both. 

“I know that it was planted for me,” she finished, her fingers fidget with the rope tied around her waist. “What other purpose would an enchanted flower serve than to lure the goddess of spring?” Her cheeks were tearstained. “It should have been me.”

Aemond hummed again, the severity returned to his gaze and he looked away. She allowed herself a breath, the slow intake and exhale through parted lips, to relax her posture and rest her hands into her lap. He reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it.

It was with his touch that she could admit she loved him. There was a tenderness to his large hands, how his slender fingers were gentle to hold her own and the soothing gesture of his thumb making circular patterns on her palm.

“Kore,” he began and she looked up at him. “I will look further into this. I meant what I said that I am unable to return souls to the mortal realm, it is beyond my power, but I will find…” he hummed again. “Will you please come back tomorrow night?”

I will always find my way to you, but instead she only smiled, nodding her head. 

[intuitive-revelations]

Some notes on Tales of the TARDIS: The Pyramids of Mars (some finale trailer spoilers included)

We don't get as much interesting stuff in the framing device here, for obvious reasons, but there's still some stuff to talk about.

Surprised they still used the stock backgroud / TARDIS cgi for this Tales of the TARDIS episode. I would have thought they would have something new/more specific to the next episode.

I'm very interested in the decision to have Fifteen and Ruby here. Out of universe I get it, what with Elisabeth Sladen being gone, and who knows if Tom would have able/willing to do something with a different actor (and who would you bring in even if he were? Luke?). But the in-universe placement is interesting. I would have assumed it was just a framing device, but we know we're going to see the Memory TARDIS in the finale. I'm guessing there will be a scene with them in the Memory TARDIS where Fifteen briefly explains what Sutekh is, and the Tales of the TARDIS bookends will basically be a deleted scene that fits into that?

There's actually some evidence for this. As we zoom in, the TARDIS doors seem to be open, which might fit with those trailer scenes of the Doctor looking out at Earth, plus the one of him screaming. However, Mel was there in the trailer, so I'm guessing we're going to be in and out of the Memory TARDIS quite a bit next episode.

I noticed those subtle camera glances from Ncuti as he's talking about Four and Sarah Jane :)

People have already commented on it, but I like the anti-colonialist reframing of the story.

As for the omnibus story itself, the editing was generally good. I don't know the original serial enough to spot everything they did, but I did kinda miss the Victoria reference at the beginning.

Interesting decision to replace the Time Corridor effects with the modern Time Vortex. Kinda makes sense in some ways, plus probably helps explain how Sutekh ends up in the Void without needing other stories. Super missed opportunity not using the graphics from the Season promo photos though, which people pointed out as being very reminiscent of the time tunnel.

As someone always eager, usually in vain, for 'canon' to fit together, I'm super intrigued by the mention of Sutekh having "evolved into a Titan" since Pyramids. (Interestingly, the iPlayer titles capitalised this. I found it a bit interesting, since in the context of gods, it immediately bring to mind Greek mythology, but that would be an odd choice to combine with the Egyptian/Christian inspired Sutekh.)

(Actually small critique of the iPlayer subtitling. I don't really need accessibility features, but had them on as I didn't want to miss anything. The new Doctor Who content has made some big bounds with accessibility, with the BSL and audio description options, but I was a bit disappointed with some of the subtitling line changes from the actual spoken words, even if I get why some lines might have been changed for clarity from Four's meandering language. It had quite a big effect on the dialogue though, in some places. I can see what people on here mean when they advocate for accurate subtitling.)

Anyway, back to the evolution thing. I hope this might be explained or eluded to next episode, given the decision to re-air an episode with such a distinctly different Sutekh.

Between the time tunnel leading to the far future, plus the fact he originates from the Dark Times, maybe the idea of him being the 'oldest one' isn't as crazy as I thought? After all, beings like the Toymaker, if they are the 'Time Lords' of the previous universe, are presumably only around 14 billion years old in the present day, if their original species had lifespans similar to the current Time Lords.

That being said, Four says he 'lived for 7000 years'. No idea if that's about his lifetime up until this point, or how long the Doctor thinks Sutekh survived in the Time Tunnel. If the prior, it's possible it doesn't include his time imprisoned. If the latter, maybe that's how long he was stuck in the tunnel before he escaped to the Void, with his disappearance causing the Doctor to assume he died?

Meanwhile, maybe the "Mother/Father/Other" thing is more about taking that kind of role in providing understanding of N-Space to the Great Old Ones, like in the Titan Comics storyline, than an actual parental connection? I don't know, that one's going to both me if we don't get more information tonight...

The only other possibility, which admittedly I kind of like, is that Sutekh is somehow an incarnation of The Beast (in the same way the Doctor might be the Other/Red Guardian), who really is old enough to be such a thing. If so, maybe he's awakened to that power/knowledge since last we saw him?

[sublieu]

˚₊‧꒰ა✧ ┊ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 ┊ ✧໒꒱ ‧₊ ˚

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Azure, having been revived and stuck in purgatory has a little conversation with Nezha about you

𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜: *none available sadly*

𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜: 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 , 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.9k words

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝. 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: obsession, major warning for toxic love (you'll understand this later), arguing, descriptions of murder

𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜: @zuzuthesnake @chimemori

我的第一個也是唯一的愛┆"All creations/edits belong to ©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ;𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝"┆Do not retranslate, republish or copy this work without permission

𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐... 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝...

Also p.s: the vote I gave previously has a meaning for something different :)

Another ps- Could you please remind me of the name of the creator for the "likes" and "reblogs" border? I want to ensure proper credit. Thank you!

It was cold 一 having been stuck in this bland, deserted hell space called purgatory for days or maybe even years. Since then, he hasn't been the same; He just sits there, his eyes darkening from both loss of sleep and tears.

He's finally alone. And he hates it.

He hates how cold he is, he hates the feeling that no matter how long, or how far he walks, he'll never escape. This was his punishment for him to face alone, and no one could fix it.

At least that's what he believed, is he wrong? He hasn't spoken to anyone for who knows how long, time doesn't exist here, only a slow descent into madness.

His appearance has changed slowly over time, his once light blue fur dulled to grey, his hair turned from orange into a dark greyish color, and his eyes, once bright pink now turned into deep magenta both from crying and from tiredness. He wants to sleep, but he can't, again he doesn't have a body so even if he tried he'll never feel the euphoria of rest that mortals so carelessly waste for minuscule pleasures like gaming.

As Azure stares into the blank space, it's as if he's staring into a void that has swallowed him whole. He can't help but reminisce on old times, like that one time when he and his sworn brothers would sit and mock heaven and the insufferable men who called themselves kings. But now, those memories only bring him sadness and regret. He knows that he would've been a good king to both the people of heaven and earth, but he's already seen the damage he's caused to Earth from his ambush of the king for the throne. The weight of his past mistakes is heavy on his heart, and he can't help but wonder if there's any way to make things right.

Until he remembers you. [Y/n], daughter of the Jade Emperor and youngest princess of the seven daughters of the emperor.

He remembers the first day he was introduced to you, way back before he even knew the Monkie King, Your soft supple skin, your precious tender eyes, unmarked by the many suitors the Jade Emperor would bring as they fell to your feet; None of them made you feel a speck of love and as a result, you would be nicknamed 'The Princess who could not love'

All of this changed after Azure became your royal knight, no matter where you went, Azure was right behind you, watching you, protecting you. It was annoying at first, to have complained to your father on multiple occasions about how much the blue lion breathed down your neck to ensure not a single flea or fly pitched atop your head. But even then he was the only person willing to deal with your rude mouth and harsh words.

After spending some time together, you began to see Azure in a different light. You started to enjoy his company and found yourself looking forward to your moments alone with him. As you got to know him better, you began to see the little things that made him special. You started to make little crafts for him whenever you had free time, and you would sit beside him whenever you ate. Before you knew it, you had fallen for him. It didn't help that your sisters teased you about your crush, but you couldn't help the way you felt. As time went on, you grew even closer to Azure, and other guards began to notice how much you cared for him. You didn't mind, though. You were happy just being near him, and you knew that he felt the same way about you.

Of course, your father heard the news from a couple of your sisters once they giggled to themselves while walking away from the peach garden, having been stopped by their father.

"What is the meaning of this little chattering amongst my daughters?" He chuckles as his daughters run into his arms, "Father, would you believe that our beloved sister [y/n] has a crush on one of your celestial warriors?" Lianhua snickers to herself as her sister Xi Wang Mu gently slapped her sister's shoulder, "[Y/n], the princess who couldn't love has a crush on a celestial warrior who is her bodyguard! Kind of ironic don't you think Father?" The girls giggled to themselves as they ran off to their other four sisters in the palace and left their father in the hall to ponder on this newfound information, he was enraged, to say the least.

"YOU DARE TO ESTABLISH A RELATIONSHIP WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE? ESPECIALLY WITH ONE OF MY CELESTIAL WARRIORS? THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE AND WILL NOT BE TOLERATED."

He screamed in your face as you looked down in shame, you looked both sides, none of your sisters dared to look at you out of fear of getting reprimanded by their father; You felt alone, worse with the fact that Azure got found out for attempting to ambush your father and get you to run away with him.

Azure knelt there, not that he wanted to, only because other celestial warriors held him and his comrades to the floor with sharp weapons grazing their necks, Azure spoke up, only to be silenced shortly after.

"You leave her alone she has nothing to do with this!" "SHUT UP BEFORE I GIVE YOU A REASON TO." Nezha silenced him as he held him down with a fire wheel, burning the lion's mane slightly as Azure quieted down; The Emperor went back to scolding his daughter as she dared not to look at him from the fact that she was crying harshly whilst wiping away her tears.

"I GIVE YOU MULTIPLE SUITORS, WHAT IS SO SPECIAL ABOUT THIS LION YOU CALL YOUR LOVER-" "HE UNDERSTANDS ME, FATHER"

The room grew quiet, Nezha, the other celestial warriors, your sisters, and Azure with his comrades shared a look of shock. "HE MAKES ME HAPPY, I KNOW HE WOULDN'T LEAVE ME TO BATTLE ALONE, HE WOULD BE THERE TO PROTECT ME, TO KEEP ME SAFE SO HOW DARE YOU TELL ME WHO I CAN AND CANNOT LOVE?" You cried as you held the broken hairpin Azure gave you, the emperor was shocked before yelling once more only to be silenced by your yelling.

"I WON'T STAND FOR THIS-" "THE MEN YOU BRING TO ME HAVE NEVER TRULY CARED FOR ME, BUT HE'S DIFFERENT. HE COMPLETES ME, HE MAKES ME LAUGH, AND STAYS BY MY SIDE WHEN I CRY. HE TREATS ME BETTER THAN ANY OTHER MAN YOU COULD BRING FROM BOTH HEAVEN AND EARTH. SO I DEMAND THAT YOU RESPECT MY CHOICE AND STOP INTERFERING WITH MY RELATIONSHIP-"

You fell to the floor from the slap your father gave you, your mother looked shocked and so were your sisters and Azure as he attempted to fight Nezha off him only to be held down by more celestial guards.

"Don't you EVER speak to me like that when I scold you"

You look up at the man you once called your father, shock and hurt evident on your face before you run out of the courtroom, one of your sisters rushes out to console you as the doors close, and he sits back on his throne as he began settling a suitable punishment for Azure and his comrades.

"I hereby banish thee from heaven, you are not to return and be forever damned to live out the rest of your life on earth" Nezha nods his head as they carried the perpetrators out of his courtroom, his daughters followed behind them, leaving the Jade Emperor and Wangmu alone.

"My king, don't you think you were a bit too harsh on our daughter?" She held his hand as he groans and pinched the bridge of his nose "Niang please, it's already hard to have to face my daughter after this" he looks at the gold and white doors, "But, still, don't you think it's fair you owe her an apology?" She rests her head upon his shoulder as he kissed her hand, looking in the direction she was looking on.

"Azure lion betrayed me and seduced my daughter into thinking he loves her, I only want to protect her." "I know that well my love, but don't you remember when we were younger? Remember how I acted similar to her, I too was once crowned the Princess who could not love" She looked down and smiled at the memory of the Jade Emperor attempting to court her, a soft blush grew on her face as the emperor now softened his gaze at that sugary memory. Now rethinking back, [Y/n] always had her mother's traits the most the only thing that belonged to him was her stubbornness and how she judged people.

"Am I a horrible father?" he looks down at his hand, the one that he struck on his youngest and most beloved daughter before your mother held that hand. "You never were, just misunderstood at most, but I'm not the one to say that. Go to her Yuhuang, please." She steps down off her throne and waits for him to follow, which he does shortly after as they walk down the halls to your favorite spot.

Whilst walking, they found the Garden of Peaches you loved spending your quiet time in, they heard hushed cries and consoling from multiple voices; Your eldest sister held you as you hugged her, turning into an inconsolable mess of muddled makeup and puddle of tears.

"We're so sorry [Y/n]" "We didn't know father would be so angry about this" Lianghua and Xi Wang Mu coddled you as you kept crying in Xi Wang Mu's kimono, even then you couldn't stop crying, it hurts to know that the man you loved so much was bound to be thrown out of heaven from both yours and his stupid decisions.

Wangmu looked at her husband and put a hand on his back, nodding for him to go to you as he entered the garden, your sisters stood up and held their hands before them as you still sat there, refusing to acknowledge your father and king; Your sisters left you both alone as Yuhuang sat close to you.

"Please talk to me [Y/n], you know I hate seeing you so upset" he held your hand only for you to yank it away and move far away from him, he sighed and sat closer to you before holding your hand firmly.

"Let go of me" "[Y/n] I'm trying to talk to you" he pleads for you to look him in the eyes, stopping once you refuse to look at him. "Your highness, I do not wish to speak to you as of now" "Do not refer to me like I am just a King" "Why not? No father of mine would hit me across the face and then throw out the only person that made me happy enough to live in this hellhole called heaven." "[Y/n]"

He said your name sternly, to which you stopped whilst still refusing to look him in his eyes; He gave up trying to get you to look at him and just held your hand. "Is that how you really think of this place?" he asks as you just nod, he looks at the pavement before speaking up "As much as I am against this, I am willing to allow this relationship to prosper." You look at him in shock as he continues, "Once a month I will allow Azure and his accomplices to come to the castle, with the exception that you will continue referring to me as Dad once more" "You really mean it?!" you piped up as he nods, causing you to squeal and kiss your father's forehead as you praised and thanked him, causing him to chuckle as he hugged you, sharing half a peach as you look out into the cloudy abyss.

And he kept his word, starting the next month, he allowed them to roam the castle, but mainly because you missed talking to Azure so much; Hugging him tightly and kissing his nose and he spun you around, a purr left his throat when you pet his ears as you stayed in your room for the rest of the day till it was time for him to leave.

Every chance you got, your love for him grew stronger, and it didn't help that you were given the ability to send letters to one another, some romantic and some rather suggestive but even still, your love did not falter one bit.

But over time, his letters started to slow, and he stopped coming to heaven due to his 'busy' schedule, but even then you still sent him letters professing your undying love to the lion.

Until one day, after months have passed with no letters from him, one did return! But not one you expected.

──────────────────────────────

Dear 'Princess',

Please stop sending letters to my husband. This is his wife, he is now happily married and has kids of his own to take care of alongside the woman (I) he chose to marry.

While he does read your letters, understand that you will never be his #1 priority, because he is married and has his children who he loves and cares for.

Look below to find pictures of him and I alongside our children sharing memories.

From what you can tell, he is very happy and living a life where he doesn't need to waste his breath coming to visit you because you cannot get over him.

So for the sake of my family, leave him alone, go and find a husband I don't know nor do I care, just stop talking to him.

-Signed Bīng shī gōngzhǔ

──────────────────────────────

You read it over and over again, seeing pictures of Azure with the presumed wife and children, tears flooded your face as your heart broke into two; Tearing and burning every picture and gift given to you by Azure, one of your sisters knocked on your door before entering and screamed when she saw your figure.

Your hair was a mess, your eyes were red and your clothes were crinkled and almost torn. You looked like a demon in silk clothing as you kept destroying what you had of Azure, hatred for the blue lion filled your heart as you promised that the day you saw him he would die.

After having found out what his wife sent to you he was beyond enraged, killing his wife and murdering his children before going on a rampage in a nearby village before falling unconscious. Wanting to one day explain his situation to you at some point to put your heart at ease.

*Now back to his present*

He was teleported to a room, one that he didn't remember so clearly, he was back in his original form but cuffed by a binding spell before a door behind him opened, and there sat Nezha with a blank expression before he spoke.

"Do you wish to see [Y/n] again?" he starts as he drinks the water he carries into the room before offering Azure a separate bottle of his own to drink, which he obliges before speaking.

"There's a catch here, isn't it?" "There is, but you will not like it" Nezha continues as another celestial guard summons a circle, there you lay in bed, surrounded by wires and a heart rate monitor as Azure looks at it in shock and guilt, having remembered that he placed you in the scroll.

"If you give up the rest of the Jade Emperor's powers alongside a fraction of yours, we will be able to revive her, but, all memories of what happened before her getting captured in the scroll will still be stuck in her memories. Not only that, we will allow you to live comfortably both in either heaven and earth, under the guise you give at least half of your powers in an attempt to find a new emperor"

This was a good deal, but even then he ponders on this, while it would be nice to be able to finally have a full conversation with you once you woke up, it would be difficult for him to just give up half his soul just to be ruled and controlled under Nezha's command, yet... He loved you, and he was more than willing to do whatever it took for you to forgive him.

"...Fine, but under one condition" "What is it it?" Nezha asks as he takes out a lotus flower themed vase. "If she does not marry me, then I want my freedom, my friends, and my soul back." He looks at the lotus prince, before hearing him sigh and roll his eyes.

"A deal is a deal"

©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ;𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 | 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

[foibles-fables]

For the soft cozy fic prompt: Control, Jesse/Emily, 15-Bed warm. They need some cozy times with all the chaos they’ve been through

I wrote this weird stream-of-consciousness thing on the plane today--hope you enjoy!!

EDIT: Posted to AO3 today!

--

Jesse’s nightmares are hazed in red. They come rushing in with a hollow fear that punches a swift and heavy-dense hole straight through her sternum.

Stars blown away, none left to guide her. Just emptiness, emptiness, emptiness, and a looking glass. It’s all a matter of perception. Glancing sidelong (never head-on, too much, recoil) presents an image—a face that matches hers by a measure of half, bare scalp and calm-frenzy scarlet eyes and a sharp smile that twists and twists as he stares her down.

The mirror is a poster. Peel it back and see the same. Their names are etched in concatenation with a designation that follows: P[6/7/6/7/6/7]. The numeral is not text but it compels, it vacillates. Like a seizure. Like a film projection, distorted.

This was by chance. This was by design. Two lives and two outcomes. Snap your fingers to transmute.

That's all it'll take.

And when Jesse opens her mouth to whisper, to scream, to bid it to stop, she’s drowned by a discordant babel of affirmation in voices that are all her own.

I want to listen. I want to dream. I want to smile. I want to hurt.

I don’t want to be.

There’s a soul-deep glimmer of warning behind her closed eyes—they snap open stinging as Jesse wakes with a start, wakes without a sound. Laid out flat on her back and soaked in cold shiver-sweat, she spins into substance from the periphery and inward, halting around the through-and-through void gaping at her chest. When she breathes it's shallow and ragged, uncontrolled, and all the air she takes won’t fill it in. Her hand aches. First finger feels bone-sore from the Service Weapon’s trigger. She chose this.

She chose this but it's not here. It's not here. Find something else to reach for.

Find it before they find you.

"Jesse?"

Her name, spoken on its own, sounds broken-off. Vestigial. One of two parts, half of the not-hers dream-name, left to exist on its own.

But her name is also a gentle and groggy question spoken by a husking voice that soothes. In comes a surge of context. Naked. Bare skin against scratchy linens, water stains on the ceiling, motes of dust floating with enviable aimlessness through curtain-cracked sunlight. The ring of an untouched bell chimes over crackling radio music.

One hand and a light-switch cord, three pulls—one hand holding another’s with purpose, fingers laced.

"Jesse."

Less of a question.

She scrapes up the capacity to turn her head and finds Emily lying beside her in the motel bed, watching, gaze drowsy but intent. Her blue eyes pale to silver in the slats of perpetual daylight strewn across bedding, across exposed skin. Emily's is as bare as her own. The sheets pool at her waist. No HRA—the Hiss haven’t touched this place and Polaris’s protection isn't needed.

Or maybe her protection has just—extended.

Jesse looks at Emily and considers this and her throat goes dry.

But she also breathes. Deep and satisfying.

"Hey," she croaks on the labored exhale, still finding her voice. "Sorry, did I—was I, uh, making noise?"

"A little." Emily touches her, hidden from view: a stroke of her thumb on the inside of Jesse's wrist. "Are you alright?"

What follows is a lie, but only just. "Yeah. Yeah, I—woke up and didn't know where I was, for a second."

The corners of Emily’s mouth quirk into a tiny smile, and Jesse knows what’s coming.

“To be fair,” she says, all eagerness, Head of Research minus the clipboard (she holds Jesse’s hand in a loose grip instead), “we don’t really know where we are. In dimensional euclidean terms, at least.”

The Oceanview Motel and Casino is a Place of Power in ways beyond the obvious and the obscure. A dreamscape that offers a moment of reprieve in transit. A liminal sanctuary for this new ritual they’re establishing when the shifting gets to them: visit together, share each other, be.

Jesse gets another breath. Her skin thrums with remembering and she wants to be closer—wants to reach and cling and bury her fingers to the knuckle in the roots of Emily’s short-cropped hair.

“Just kind of feels like Nevada to me,” she says instead, squinting against the sunlight while keeping her gaze fixed on Emily’s long lashes. Doesn’t want to know what she might see if she looks away.

“Could be.” Emily’s fingertips trace up to the curve of Jesse’s bicep. Dream-logic as physical contact. It’s calming in a way Jesse hasn’t let herself grow used to, but she’s trying. “We’ll learn. For now, though, it’s kind of exciting. That for all that we’ve seen, there’s still so much left to fathom.” Her grin broadens, brightens, cracking the corners of her eyes. Jesse’s pulse kick-starts, erratic. Polaris, knowing, resonates smugly, if smug is a thing extradimensional sentient frequencies can be. “Don’t you think?”

Emily has a way of seeing what’s there. All the rest falls away—all of the complications, all of the tangles, all of the clouded context.

And Emily has always seen Jesse. Chalk that up to synchronicity too.

“Yeah,” Jesse says, wanting to be a part of that so badly she aches. “Yeah.”

Emily’s smile softens. “You look so tired.” A palm, then, smoothing across Jesse’s neck, her cheek. A bodily tether in all of this liminality. “Turn over? We can stay here a little longer, if you’d like.”

There are no words and there is no lack of understanding. Jesse capitulates—turns on her side, facing away. Bed-warm and soft and so quiet, Emily moves closer to curl against her back. Her hand flattens against the valley between Jesse’s bare breasts. The space between Jesse’s shoulder blades feels like it was made for the press of Emily’s mouth.

Somehow Emily transcends her own limits. Fills empty spaces. Maybe that’s just another reason why Jesse was led here.

They both breathe with the rhythm of sleep. Jesse's empty hand splays out over Emily's.

Jesse chose and Jesse chooses. Over and over, she chooses.

Jesse wants to be.

Jesse is glad to be here.

[ggumiui]

Heeyyyyyyy gumi it’s me Magpie here to ask you some things because you’ve been good this year and Magpie Claus is gonna make u some art

I know for the various doodles and art I’ve been making so far I’ve basically winged it and just gone off the descriptions in the story, but I would like to make some ref sheets for some of the characters and I NEED KEY DETAILS AND STUFF so if you could be so kind to tell me some stuff you would like the characters to look like, like accessories and scar placement and maybe if the characters have pointed ears that kinda stuff

Magpie!! Oh my god! I wish I'd seen this sooner! Oooh! I have so much to say regarding their appearances. Although I'd definitely begin with, please still feel free to have creative freedom! I love seeing your art after posting chapters, whether the design is of your own or closer to mine, I absolutely adore it either way! So don't feel restricted by anything. You've definitely gotten it down to a T though haha When it comes to 'pointed ears, etc' there aren't actually any other sub-species/hybrids other than avians in this universe, as they are creations solely of the Watchers. Not to say people can't be born without little funky attributes such as those though! Grian and Pearl are twins here, so their appearances do resemble each others a lot. Such as the same hair colour, dirty blonde, and facial features. I am sorry to say that Grian unfortunately is not a glasses wearer in AMDB 😔 purely because of lore purposes and him being 'perfect' it wouldn't fit. I still love glasses Grian <33 Cuteguy right now simply dons a red hoodie and grey knee-length shorts. His 'void covering' is the consistency of a liquid and can change how much of his face is being covered. This will be spoken more on in future chapters! And I might have to come back to Cuteguy a little later as.. spoiler alert.. he will actually be getting a suit hahaha not stuck in those borrowed clothes forever. Oh no this is getting long... apologies 😭 Scar's clothes are pretty consistent, button up shirts (never fully buttoned) and whatever jeans work best lol. He's a simple artist. His hair is just a mess kinda.. lmao I've described it before to a friend as "He cuts his own hair, but he can't see the back so he just leaves it and hopes for the best." He's just left with a mullet that has a mind of its own. There's a very special detail about his accessories you'll find out in chapter 10 though 👀 EDIT: Oopsie.. coming back to make a little edit as I forgot to mention his scar placement!! He has a jagged one across his nose bridge, shorter on one side than the other. A large one down his jaw and extending to his throat a little. A cross, or in other words, the shape of an 'X' between his hair part on his forehead. Grian mentions this in ch6! And finally for visible ones, a large one resembling an explosion on his collarbone, back of neck and back. Across his body he has many overlaying each other as well. Some on his hands and espeically his palms/fingers. Basically you can give him as many or as less as you'd like hahaha Hawkeye, I didn't devle too much into his design! I wish I could explain more into him but that would be spoilers :( He has a lot coming for him. His main details are that he wears archer equipment: a quiver, chest guard, arm guard and glove! But his suit is pretty much just DDVAU inspired except no short-shorts since I'm going for less comedy aspect and more action style! Oh how I miss those short shorts lol The only key detail with Mumbo is his hair, it reaches about his collarbone. I call him the 'Hippie band guy' in my head because that's just how I picture him after the buttercups in S9 lmao If there's anything else you're curious about please ask away! And again, even with this info you are entirely able to just ignore it lol! I love seeing your art and even without the 'canon' designs I would love it just as much, if not more! Thank you so much <333 And some exciting news, I took an unannounced hiatus for personal reasons but I'm finally able to get back into the swing of things. In other words, you can expect Chapter 7 soon! Also working on Chapter 8 at the same time so I can begin a weekly schedule finally Thank you for your patience <3

[sistertotheknowitall]

Listen I’m not sober and am having feelings. Therefore, since my roommate is not hear to listen to me, I am taking it to the void of tumblr.

Okay? Okay. This is all stream of consciousness so buckle in, it not be coherent.

Listen.

I was on TikTok, zoning out but vibing to 60 second music while enjoying some smoke. And I don’t watch this anime so I don’t trust myself to spell the name but my friend reposted this edit:

Now see, I’m vibing to the music bobbing around, I always stop on what he reposts and it is so many of these two. He loves them, I’m happy for him. I don’t know this Anime outside these edits and what he’s ranted at me. From what I understand they were boyfriends (but not really) and there was a bitter break up in front of a KFC (but not really) when the one with dark hair decided to be a villain (a hot one apparently) and now they are bitter enemies (devastating-ly).

I’m vibing, I think ah yes the lovers to bitter enemies troupe. Heart breaking.

This lead me into thinking about said trope. How sad it is that our characters are on opposing sides- fighting someone they once wanted to make happy.

They hate each other and they hate what’s happened to them as a couple but they don’t love each other any more. At least not like they use to. They now love each other as fond memories, as shared dreams, of happiness and warmth and home.

They love each other as a time when everything was good and soft and sweat. And it wasn’t perfect but there was nothing they couldn’t bounce back from if they were together. Until there was. Until something did.

And maybe they blame the other or them selves or both but they still care. And it hurts. They are still so bitter.

They could, or maybe have, accepted their reality. Their fate to stick to this path that was of their own design.

(You can argue “well this happened,” or, “well they just felt.” You can rationalize why they would choose something that would break the best thing they have in their lives. You fantasize about it that’s why we have fix it fics.)

It doesn’t mean that when/if one of them comes to serious harm from the others actions they won’t hate themselves just a little bit more. (And maybe one of them enjoys hurting the other/ being hurt in a martyr/“i deserve this type bullshit way.)

The point is they don’t want to kill each other directly. They will stop before the finale blow or find an excuse when the other obviously has had too much. They will shield the other indirectly under some disguise, lying horribly. (Or not horribly or lying at all but acting like he really cares because the other is bad at hiding it so he’s waiting to “double cross” them but that never comes. And it’s just a vicious cycle of pretending that he doesn’t know how he really feels anymore.)

Anyway, they care on some capacity and both know they do so they don’t kill each other. There is an unspoken (or maybe spoken in like wired declarations) pact between them to not kill the other directly. Like when they meet in weird places to talk cryptically at each other. they are not allowed to kill or attempt to kill each other in these moments because they respect each other to much.

(Or are like Charles Xavier and Eric Lehnsherr/Magneto (I keep wanting to call him Eric Kripke - that’s the creator of supernatural) type shit where they don’t want to kill each other, it’s mostly political. So like the scene in the movie where they playing chess in Eric’s cell.)

Are you with me so far?

Now imagine:

They love, respect, and care about each other. They meet to play chess, or sit on a bench, or get coffee in a polite and often cryptic way.

They have stood, shook hands and said their not-really-a-threat-nor- a-proper-goodbye. One turns to start walking away. The other doesn’t move but watches for a second. They wait a beat and call out. Or maybe they don’t. Maybe they let the other face them first or maybe they don’t want to see their face.

To see their face (maybe it’s the more trusting one to have given his back to his friend enemy) when the gun fires. When the blade plunges deep. When the take down happens.

Either way the one bleeding out will do so in the lap of the other as they mourn how things could have been.

And there are so many ways to play this trope because what if the one bleeding out is shocked, betrayed and the other is unremorseful or so wrecked with guilt and shame. Or the one who knows they’re going to die in that moment just accepts it and smiles and forgives the other (whether they want it or not and oh how they don’t deserve it but they need it like they need air because once they had been happy and good together.)

Or their last words are of love, of comfort, sent heard because other doesn’t take them into their lap but instead turned and walked away leaving their love victim to smile at the sky in peace.

[patchwork-panda]

Fic stuff

Hey guys, just wanted to drop a line and say thank you to everyone who has supported the things I've written so far.

It always makes my day when I see anyone talking about the things I've put out, especially the One More Light series. Especially bc getting any kind of message is so rare.

The truth is, I spend most of my non-working days (aka days I'm not at my day job) working on the fic or thinking about it or just trying to write and it's been a pretty lonely endeavor. That's on me, of course. I'm the one who chose to sit here staring at my laptop day in and day out, trying to create something that *I* would be proud of, something that *I* would want to read and read again years and years later.

But, it's getting to be a lot. And to do all this planning, outlining and editing and *writing* while staring into the void is... difficult.

Again, I really appreciate everyone who has spoken to me at all and I'm happy there are those who want to read the updates. I don't know who you are or how many of you exist, or still remain but please know that I appreciate you.

That said, if it's not too much to ask, I wrote this post to let anyone who is reading know that I would like to interact with folks more. As cringe or stupid as it might be for me to say this, I want to encourage anyone who wants to talk to me about anything, to let them know that they can do so. It could be about fics or anything fandom related.

I just want to know that I shouldn't give up the fic. That I shouldn't give up writing.

So, here's me.

Throwing a coin into the wishing well.

Singing to it like Snow White, covered in grime and soot when she thinks she's alone.

And hoping to hear it sing back.

[marcelduriez]

Biography Marcel Duriez was born in Northern Cambria Pennsylvania

Duriez was born in Northern Cambria and spent his early life in Johnstown, in a pair of contemporary representatives’ mansions roughly Altoona, and six years in a mining village in Barnesboro, before moving to Northern Cambria. After school, he studied for six years at the Art Institutes and Purdue University, Pennsylvania, before completing his studies at the Art Institutional Schools in Minneapolis, the United States where he read English, creative writings and philosophy, and the arts. After a career in editing and novel writing in the United States, threaded with some instruction, he relocated to Pittsburgh in 2000 to work as a small publisher, Marcel Ray Duriez Books, as a commissioning novelist. In 2002 he started his own business, in writing that is not gibberish, devoted to writing one of the world’s longest novels, editorial assistance, and some book investment for publishers. Duriez won five-star reviews, with the Readers Favorites Award in 2012 for his breakdown of the Children Stories, Duriez also has an extensive library of music, art, and published novels. The literary group included “Nevaeh,” and “Elody.”

He very prolific published considerable books on fantastical, romances, magical realism, dark fantasy literary figures, and other written works, and he has spoken to literary educational and proficient groups.

Novelist author- Marcel Ray Duriez is an author/illustrator of all fiction types, and now non-fiction books also- he is a children supporter in helping kids with starting to read, with his: fantasy -mystery horror-even some sensual romance novels, novellas, and short stories 5-star kids’ writer said readers’ favorites.

Marcel Duriez is at 110 books published at this time listed.

2012–2013

• 2012 Walking The Halls (Lulu Press), 2012 up to 2022 Nevaeh book series has 80 volumes, novels (Publications/BN Press House) Posted September 30, 2021, Chapters 4,100, and Paragraphs 90,312.” 2012 Elody, 2012 “Oskar” I 2012 “The misunderstood, classifications” (Childhood phycology understandings of health issues), 2013 The Many Adventures of Cuddles: (Children.), 2013 “Parkinson’s,” (a health understanding and studies, of progressions of PD.), 2013 “See Spot Run”, 2013 “The ABCs of Asexuality”, (Asexual ACES has combined with Duriez displaying the book, The ABCs of Asexuality backing findings and studies.), 2013 “Panda Bear Mandy”, 2013 “Fourteen Lost at Sea” 2013 “That’ll be our Little Secret” 2014 “The Shut Generation” 2014 “The Ingredients of my Life”

2014–2016

2014 “Sammie and Ellie: How I Found My Family” 2014 “Christina” 2014 The Forbidden Touches 2014 The Lusting Sapphire Blue Eyes. 2014 The Miracle 2014 “The Cursed” 2015 “Dream Girl” 2015 “Sins of the Vampire” 2015 “Clash” I 2015 “Ellie” 2015 “Eventide” 2015 “Remembrance of Wartime” I 2015 “The Struggle with Affections” 2015 “Falling to You” 2015 “Young Taboo” 2015 “Dreaming of you play with Me” 2015 “They Call Out” 2015 “A Void She Cannot Feel” 2015 “Hard to Let Go” 2016 “Going in and Out” I 2016 “Obscure Darkness” 2016 “Seventeen” 2016 “Crescent Moon” 2016 “Midnight Sun” 2016 “Dusking Lust” 2016 “Maggie” 2016 “Flashbacks” 2016 “Butterfly Kisses” 2016 “Lips Together” 2016 “Kiss me Here”

2017–2019

2017 “This Kiss” 2017 “Dollie” 2017 “1st Base” 2017 “French Kiss” I 2017 “Heart-to-Heart’s” 2018 “Kellie’s Stories” I 2018 “Haven’s Rockville”

2018 “Haven” 2018 “Naddalin and the Magic Railway” 2018 “Untitled” 2018 “Naddalin” I 2018 “Learn to Fly” 2018 “Fallen Angel” 2018 “Death Devours” 2018 “Fallen Angel” 2018 “The Express” 2018 “Skin and Bones” 2018 “Skin and Bones” 2019 “Spread your Wings” 2019 “Story of my Life” 2019 “The way I was Remembered” 2019 “Ash Angel” 2019 “Walking After You” 2019 “The Pretender of Secrets” 2019 “Hells Purgatory” 2019 “Emanon” 2019 “The Lingering” 2019 “Impressions Part: one” 2019 “Impressions Part: two” 2019 “If Only in My Mind” 2019 “If Only in My Dreams” 2019 “Reverie” 2019 “If Only in My Wildest Dreams” 2019 “Chimera” 2019 “If I Say I Wanna Stay”

2022

Events for Duriez about world records.

2020 “Scry” 2020 “Grayed” 2020 “The Heavenly Bodies” 2020 “Misunderstandings” 2020 “A Desire to Burn” 2020 “The Shadow of the Goddesses” 2020 “Moments that would not Fade Part: one” 2020 “Moments that would not Fade Part: two” 2021 “Martrace” 2021 “Dear Diary” 2021 “Ansley” 2021 “Sins of the Fallen Angel” 2021 “Girls Camp” 2021 “Incest” 2021 “Alone Together” 2021 “Ghosted” 2021 “Ethereal” 2021 “Scard of my Past” 2022 “Perceptions” 2022 “Overshadows of Grayson” 2022 “Nevaeh Broken Record” 2022 “Passed November” 2022 “Shoe Box”

Marcel Ray Duriez Artworks:

Events for the world record for Duriez.

2015 (Dave Grohl) Duriez’s music, is interesting and generous (Duriez Books and Music) Music album “Duriez” was posted and released as “Longest Digital Album” with musical songs, “5 December 2021 said Duriez on Internet archive has most songs on a digital album estimated 2,500 novel songs (Duriez) Guitarist. On the 19 November 2022 Webpage: archive org “Marcel Ray Duriez (Longest Digital Album). aka Duriez Most Songs on a Digital Album.” Duriez is known for his artwork you can see his ‘Portfolio’ on Youtube.

James Ventrillo President at Readers' Favorite said this about the Nevaeh novels by Marcel Ray Duriez. Nevaeh is 'A narrative focus on the thoughtful look of a young girl, facing pain- as she bares her soul.’ Readers' Favorite is one of the largest book review and award contest sites on the Internet. They have earned the respect of renowned publishers like Random House, Simon & Schuster, and Harper Collins.

Also noted with this work is Longest Title of a Book, 5,500 words in the title of Nevaeh Saga book number one, 30,500 characters all on the cover itself. Marcel Ray Duriez, Nevaeh Saga, Angles in disguise, the special edition of cover with the longest title, explaining all 88 books within the series as a collection with the same protagonist and also the longest in book thickness with lined up book-spins as one longest novel.

Noted were professional comments: stating world record holding from: Longest Novel (@longestnovel) / Twitter

Town Love, to the writer.

Marcel Ray Duriez. Marcel Duriez (born 19 July 1991) is a… | by Duriez | Medium

[sleepyscara]

Prince of Snezhnaya - Il Dottore

PRINCE OF SNEZHNAYA - I.D (3.7k)

Il Dottore x Harley Quinn Inspired ! GN ! Reader

SUMMARY: La Signora informs the new recruits within her squadron of Dottore's favourite little lab rat and how they came to be

WARNINGS: swearing , murder , suggestive themes , brainwashing , kidnapping ?? , torture (mild, briefly mentioned) , obsessive tendencies ?? , dubcon themes ?? (not smut)

NOTES: Brighella is simply your Fatui Code Name / Call Sign, whatever you wanna call it. Brighella is also a Commedia character who's loyalty was easily 'bought', but was rather sentimental and strongly-felt about love. I felt it fit.

Dottore is veery OOC in this, since this was written before we even got the Fatui Trailer. Hell, we didn't know his real name back then! And also, since he's sorta based off of the suicide squad script, I had tried to add my own twist at the time. But not a lot of info existed on Mr 'Ttore at all at the time, so I did my best. Enjoy!

Edited on Dec 30 '2023

Pearl eyes scanned the room, analysing each and every new recruit in the squadron down to their breathing patterns. La Signora was quick to identify those who were excited, scared shitless, or simply indifferent. In one half of the room, the brand new recruits were conversing as they filed in, curiousness seeping from their body language and hushed voices. They were new pawns, they would be excused this one time. But on the other half, perfectly poised and well-trained soldiers simply waited in silence.

The room itself was relatively big if not for the long, icy cold table that filled the length of the communal area. A long table, with two seatable sides now filled silently with pawns, all turning to look at the table’s head end where the Eighth, La Signora, was currently sat.Her hair well kept, mask situated on her gorgeously heart-shaped fair face, soft lips slightly parted as if preparing to speak. Despite her tall, elegant, superior yet soft and sweet exterior, the Crimson Witch’s words, tone, and thick language were all far from kind.

“You have been gathered here as a formal introduction to your superiors. To be frank, none of us have the time to individually introduce ourselves and shake hands, neither is this customary or usual. However, due to the.. Position the Fatui has been placed in after losing so many soldiers.. we have been tasked with basic introductions to our new groups before moving on swiftly, and beginning the recovery.”

Puffs of foggy air swirled and dissipated into the room with every word spoken, truly proving the infamous freezing temperatures of Snezhnaya, especially within the walls of Zapolyarny Palace.

“However, I do not have the care for these introductions, ice-breakers bore me enough to put me to sleep. And so, I’m appointing these brave soldiers to take the lead. You may proceed, with caution.”

Sarcasm and lack of care spiked off of her tongue, a beautifully mild Snezhnayan-Mondstadtian accent making itself known with every droplet of venom that dripped from her words. The Fatui soldiers wasted no time questioning what their roles or specific instructions were to be, but rather allowing one to reach for a thick, brand new book, full of information based on the History of the Fatui, and its esteemed Eleven Harbingers.

Of course, not the official files and documents. A copy, full of basic information and many black boxes covering confidential text.

A gruff and strong voice filled the void of the ice chamber, carefully listing out information on the First Harbinger, Pierro. Despite her presence, arms tightly crossed with one leg hitched over the other and well kept gown flowing freely onto the floor, Signora listened intently, quick to correct any mistakes or mispronunciations from her soldiers with a disappointed sigh. What a shit example of an introduction to your superiors. ‘You cannot even educate new recruits on the correct information. How incompetent.’

Most recruits in the room looked as if they could fall asleep, pure fear and respect keeping them awake and upright to prevent slouching. Admittedly, Signora herself hated anything remotely similar to these meetings just as much. Almost as much as the Harbinger only meetings. Her boredom soon came to an abrupt stop, however, her saviour coming forth in the form of a new recruit who seemed all too eager to question something they had heard from the shared views of the book  and its information laid out on the table before them.

“Forgive me for interrupting, but you appear to have missed something on Lord Harbinger Dottore’s page! There’s a small piece of text handwritten above, scribbled out.”

Currently, her agents were ‘introducing’ the Second, Il Dottore – The Doctor, and a keen eye had spotted the scribbles that crossed out some names below his Harbinger title. Honestly, the loud-mouth newbie was lucky Signora actually liked this particular discussion that she was about to have. It wasn’t often that Signora was able to discuss Dottore’s little.. favourite. The blonde knew exactly who had done said scribbling, and an almost amused smirk crowded her face as she met eyes with the now-hesitant speaker.

“Before I dignify you with a response, never dare to speak out of term again. You are lucky I do not mind explaining.. The mess in the book.”

Agents within the room all recoiled at her snappy tone, looking toward the leading woman, intrigue drifting into the atmosphere from bodies on both sides.

“As you may know, many Harbingers have a personal assistant or two. Usually, they do not get introduced as they are just as replaceable and disposable as you all. Il Dottore’s assistant is a .. different case. I have a story to tell you about a friend of mine, I warn you, this story is quite long..”

Years prior, The Doctor was stationed in Sumeru at one of his high-end laboratory facilities before it was raided and the man was taken into custody. Nobody within the Fatui knew of this ambush- but the rat was quickly sought out and disposed of, much to the Akademiya’s chagrin.

Dottore was being detained for questioning and investigation until the Tsaritsa likely ordered him free, or he was released himself. For Harbingers, there are certain protections about being prosecuted outside of Snezhnaya.

This was an issue for our Lady, however, as she had recently assigned the harbingers a.. therapist of sorts. Brighella at the time was who oversaw us. Though was initially hired for and mostly assigned to Scaramouche in his earlier days. Arrangements with them were mandatory, a meeting a week at least. We do not know why the Tsaritsa ordered us to have counselling of sorts, as preposterous such suggestions truly seemed to us, but we dared not question. With The Doctor being detained and questioned in Sumeru, he required daily check-ins with Brighella. This meant arrangements had to be made for myself and the other Harbingers to travel, or request to be pardoned. But soon enough, The Doctor was accompanied by his doctor in containment. Quite ironic, no?

Sumeru’s detainment facility was of high security, namely due to the sheer number of powerful individuals within the city. And whilst Il Dottore was not a vision wielder, further already having been stripped of his delusion – a Fatui Harbinger should never be underestimated. Especially an individual such as the doctor himself.

Still, the restraints holding his body captive seemed a little overkill when you consider the padded cell, with three separate metal doors leading out of his holding cell. Within the room, a simple toilet, hanging metal bed against the wall, and table all drilled into the floor and walls. A singular window, barred and too small for a man of his structure to fit through even if the bulletproof glass was broken.

It was sad, almost. Supposedly, the psychiatrist’s heart was lurching in their chest at the mere thought of Our Doctor residing in such a lonely and cold place. The very same man, of course, really couldn’t give a shit. He was simply waiting for the days to pass until his inevitable freedom. Besides, the room was similar to that of his laboratories. The man didn’t live in luxury, after all.

But until then, Dottore had you to count his days with. Each day at 1pm the two of you would meet alone in his cell, discussing whatever he wished besides the mental and physical check-ups. The doctor grew somewhat comfortable with the psychiatrist over time despite his introverted and antisocial behaviours. Il Dottore was not a people person, but he was well prepared for social interaction whenever necessary. An important part of being a Harbinger, really. A playful and calm aura would surround the two, clearly unnerving the soldiers protecting his cell each day. What was clearly meant to be a business and professional relationship was much more friendly and sweet, almost.

Friendly, indeed. Dottore was good at picking up facts and analysing human interactions- the entirety of his research based upon mortals and investigating human behaviours for his segments, after all. The crush that the psychiatrist harboured for the unhinged was cute, if anything. And Dottore loved to exploit such an interest.

It wasn’t long before the Harbinger noted how far gone the person that sat across from him truly was. He’d almost call it an infatuation rather than a highschool crush.

“You are predicted to be released within the next two months if Her Majesty the Tsaritsa does not step in. Of course, there are consistent attempts to speed up the process. But I assure you that we’re all making brilliant progress in sett-”

Dottore rolled his eyes, drowning out the ramblings of the psychiatrist in front of him. As far as he was concerned, two months was much too long of time away from his research and Harbinger duties, Dottore was a man who simply hated sit still, constantly needing to be moving and working. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture

“There’s somethin’ you could do for me, doctor?”

You thought, somehow, that you were helping him. Settling him. But you were falling in love.

Your eyes snapped up to meet crimson red, intrigue and willingness overflowing in the deep pools. Your lips immediately closed, leaving your sentences to hang on the edge of a cliff. All trains of thought erased from your mind. Anything to help the Harbinger, the utmost care and importance necessary for such a small mission.

“Anything - I mean yeah,”

Pale blue hair flipped to the side when Dottore tilted his head, unmasked face growing a sinister looking smile, expression full of gratitude and adoration. It made the male’s heart skip.

“I need one of my weapons, preferably the machine gun.”

“A- A machine gun..?”

Doubt flooded the chest of the psychiatrist, the aura surrounding the pair suddenly tensing. Dottore already knew the answer of course. He was getting the fuck out of that padded cell.

About a week later, Dottore’s Fatui agents had arrived in Sumeru city to ambush the detainment facility and break out their Lord. The mission, approved by the Tsaritsa after Dr. (L/N) had sent forward the harbinger’s requested plan, was a success and within an hour Dottore was freely running around the facility. What Brighella hadn’t accounted for, however, was the inevitable betrayal of The Doctor. When you had almost escaped the building, you were cornered and restrained by some of Fatui's soldiers, carried back inside Sumeru’s hospital and escorted to one of the ‘hospital’ wings.

“Get off me! Please let go-”

Panic was settling into your body, chest rising and falling with every passing moment as you were mindlessly thrown onto a metal operating table and strapped down by the arms, legs, shoulders and waist.

‘Have the Fatui agents confused me for one of the detention centre’s staff??’

“Please! I helped your Lord, I do not work against you just please let me-”

“What do we have here, hmm?”

And there he was, the man of the hour. One of his many iconic masks secured back onto his face and work pants replacing the grey and itchy two piece outfits that he’d been adorning for a while now. Though, Dottore was shamelessly topless - well toned chest on full display, littered in scars and a few fading tattoos. Not that you should have even paid such a factor any attention at a time like this. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat relaxed at the sight. Though you could only hope the evidence of your arousal was not noticeable in the dim, shitty lights of the hospital bay.

“Lord Harbinger? What’s going on?? I-”

“You did such a good job for me, pretty pretty pretty thing. Now, I have one more task for you.”

His tone was hushed, clearly enjoying the scene in front of him. Such a submissive and highly intelligent psychiatrist at his complete mercy with no means of defence- if you even wanted to defend yourself, Dottore wasn’t sure that you would based on the incriminating evidence splayed across the operating table.

“I- yes of course. But why am I- I did everything you said. I helped you!”

A sharp, harsh laugh tore from the Harbinger’s throat.

“You helped me? By attempting to cure me? Change me for the better?”

With every punctuated spit of his words, the doctor slammed his fists on each side of the psychiatrist’s head, causing you to try and shy away in fear- prevented solely by the restraints tying your now shaking body down to the table.

“You.. you left me in a black hole of rage and confusion. Pah! Is that the medicine you practice, Doctor?”

Hurt, betrayal, confusion and something akin to loss shadowed the psychiatrist’s face. Heart breaking on the table for all present to see. It sent shivers up the Harbinger’s spine, his own arousal now pooling in his gut at the pain being inflicted on you before him.

“So what, are you gonna kill me my Lord?”

Your words tumbled out of your mouth, easily addressing the Harbinger as such due to the fear wracking your bones.

“Oh, I’m not gonna kill you. I’m just gonna hurt you really, really bad.”

“You think so? Well I can take it.”

Il Dottore stood at the head of the operating bed, holding his own equipment imported from his laboratory in Snezhnaya between his hands and taunting the terror-stricken man beneath him. The torturous device whirring as it powered up, ready to break through the confines of the psychiatrist’s psyche and tip your world upside down.

Surrounding Fatui agents could only stand guard, flinching at the shrill screams and cries for mercy that flew out of your parted lips. At least you had a familiar, folded leather belt to protect your teeth.

That day, they became the Prince and Harbinger of Snezhnaya. And Archons help anyone who disrespected the Prince.

Months later, La Signora and The Balladeer were seen quickly clambering out of a rich looking carriage, Fatui agents flooding the area. Snezhnaya was always cold, but warmed up a bit more in Summer months. Though, muttered complaints could still be heard in the frozen air from the Inazuman as they headed inside a shop. ‘The shop’ was a cover for an underground club, of sorts. Frequently used for business deals between the Harbingers and various other organisations who even so much so hoped to sell themselves to the Fatui in exchange for rich rewards.

Il Dottore had found himself there more than ever, recently.

Almost always being posted in Snezhnaya meant Dottore was one of two or three Harbingers left to take control of dealings in the Fatui’s homeland. And as much as he despised such tasks, his little prince made these trips all the more bearable.

“We finally meet-”

“He doesn’t shake hands. Sit down and have a drink.”

“Lord Il Dottore, on behalf of everybody, welcome back to Snezhnaya. I wanted to come by personally and say hey.”

He was listening, of course he was. Being able to multitask was simply expected of a Harbinger – but it was clear that Dottore’s attention was elsewhere across the room. Crimson pools following every sensual movement of his partner, tasked with entertaining their esteemed guests.

He noted the added company of the other two Harbingers. Both had yet to be reposted in the half-year, and were therefore instructed to join the Doctor on his meetings for the foreseeable future. A rather unimpressed sigh left the shorter man’s mouth as he quickly noted where his superior was looking.

“Engaged as ever I see, Doctor.”

Dottore didn’t entertain Scaramouche with a response.

“I wanted to thank you, the entirety of the Fatui, for our deals thus far. Making me good money, making you good money-”

“Are you sweet talking to me?” A forced and fake laugh grumbled from the doctor’s throat, his intense stare finally moving over to the guest in front of him as he did so. He didn’t look pleased over his attention being ripped from his little lab rat.

“I love this guy, he’s so intense!” His maniacal expression was easy to see, despite being mostly blocked by his iconic mask. La Signora grabbed at a wine glass before her, downing the drink in one go, praying it would help her through this meeting. Dottore was in a funny mood, she could tell. It would likely only set off The Balladeer too. Archons, help her.

The music in the club picked up, causing all heads in the private booth to look over at the dancing beauty on the stage. The notably expensive outfit (if you could call it such) left almost nothing to the imagination, thighs jiggling with every step and the fat of your ass following suit. Tattoos, bruises and a few scars littered your body, and the now multi-colored hair swaying with your movements. Sexy, confident, teasing and important emitted from your entire being, enticing the crowds at your feet as money and various other items were thrown at you.

This would be the first time since their meeting that Scaramouche and La Signora had met or seen their previous psychiatrist. Shock, disgust and amusement (though mostly Signora) adorned their faces at the view. Dottore all but licked his lips, eyes trailing the body hungrily.

“Mmm.. you’re a lucky man, Dottore. You got a bad bitch”

A fire lit in the Harbinger’s eyes, blood red orbs seeming to grow at the pure excitement he felt from introducing his Prince. Scaramouche could only clench his jaw, looking elsewhere to avoid meeting the gaze of their doctor.

“Oh there they are.. The fire in my loins. The itch in my crotch! The one, the infamous Brighella, of course!”

Upon hearing your name, you turned your head toward the private booth, making eye contact with your lover through the beaded curtain with a wicked smile. Dottore wasted no time sticking two fingers into his mouth from the half not covered by his mask, blowing air between the gap and whistling toward his new, favoured doll. Like an owner calling for his dog in a park.The two accompanying Harbingers straightened their posture, intrigued and resentful to finally see their old psychiatrist. The Balladeer mostly in shock, still.

About thirty four seconds had passed, Dottore had counted, before familiarly tattooed and fairly well looked after legs swung through the beaded curtain, an ecstatic face soon following and providing your undivided attention to the pale haired man.

“Doctor?”

“Oh yea, come to daddy.” Dottore practically purred as he tore off his mask, which once again shocked those in the booth save for the security guard. Quickly gathering his Prince in his arms and kissing you sloppily for a few seconds, allowing your cute decorative legs to wrap around his torso as he squeezed your ass.

He turned his body, then, placing his mask back onto his face, to allow his little Prince to view the businessman who currently sat across from the other Harbingers. When Brighella noticed them, you quickly sent a large smile their way with a wink before turning your gaze back to the businessman.

“I’ve got a little job for you, sweet thing.”

“Anything for you My Lord”

“You are my gift to this hunk of a man, hmm? You belong to him now.”

Dottore let you down, standing back to watch the two of you interact with a ferocity of possessiveness that The Balladeer would honestly have only expected to see from one of Dottore’s successful creations. Quick and seductive steps edged toward the businessman, who was now chuckling to himself at your approach. Gaze glancing up and down to take you in, it was clear why the hard to please and get along with Il Dottore favoured him.

“Oh you’re cute! You want me? I’m all yours~”

Hesitance suddenly covered the nameless business partner’s face, frowning when he saw Dottore’s heavy breathing in his peripheral vision. He didn’t wanna get on the Doctor’s bad side.

“I don’t want no beef.”

The atmosphere in the room changed, air spiking cold at the mistake of the nameless idiot. The two Harbingers reacted, one tensing and one relaxing, gaze flickering between Dottore and yourself, who had a look of faux despair and hurt adorning your face.

“You don’t want me? Am I not good enough? Fine – I won’t waste my time then!”

You immediately leapt off of the businessman’s lap, strutting over to an available seat and huffing before promptly turning and throwing yourself onto the chair. Despite the sudden attitude, an excited smile crept onto your face as you stared at Dottore with raised brows, expectance your expression. Dottore had the most control in this room, but even he was a slave to his Prince’s orders of execution.

Without hesitation, Dottore laughed as fizzling sounds crackled along the air. The familiarity of a delusion’s powers sinking in as the businessman was killed on the spot.

“This pathetic meeting ended before it could even start. What a shame.”

And with that, Dottore left the room, his Prince following close behind with a manic smile on your face, love and adoration once again flooding your expression, all as the murder tally was added to. It never failed to excite you when your Harbinger would kill for him at the smallest mishap. Truly, Brighella was on top of the world.Laughter echoed out the door, the Fatui agent on guard immediately going to clean up the bloody mess left behind by his superior.

Scaramouche scoffed, immediately grabbing a drink and slamming it down, similarly to Signora earlier.

“What the fuck was that??”

“Love, or a twisted form of it.

“Of course it was, because the Doctor is wholly capable of such a thing, isn’t he?”

“I found it highly amusing.”

“Of course you did.”

— — —

With that, La Signora concluded her story with a smirk, gazing at the various expressions on her agents' faces.

“So, now you know who Brighella is. While they are not a Harbinger, you are to treat them as such. They even have the Tsaritsa’s approval after all they have done for our organisation. Do not cross their path or upset them, else Il Dottore will hunt you down.”

Simultaneous shudders shook the room, agents nodding in understanding at their Lady’s words.

“Now, onto the Third, The Damselette, Proceed."

[monsoonblooms12]

Belamour (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set after Book 3, Pooja finally gets Ethan to dance in the rain.

A/N: A silly something born out of my love for rains and my binge listening to 80s Bollywood classics (I have no idea what kinda mess this is tbh). Also, my first song based fic🤎

A/N 2: The song lyrics are indented (Translation in parenthesis)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.5K

Category: Total fluff

Warnings: None that I noticed

Song Inspiration: Aaj Kal Yaad Kuch by Mohammed Aziz

READ ON AO3

A pair of summery blue orbs insistently stare at the world beyond the glass windows.

A world that was now being washed by the consistent droplets that came down from the adobe of clouds to meet their origin.

Their drum was usually henotic, tranquil for him.

But at the moment, it only added to his irritation and deepened the void of disappointment that had formed in his chest.

In another room of the same house, a pair of amber orbs watched the magic of nature with a child-like wonder.

The pleasant, dewy petrichor spread around her, and the mellifluous tunes of Earth's own orchestra made her forget the fast turns her life went through in the past day.

In the faint light, she picked up her hand and let the jewel, the stone that was nothing less than a promise of forever, shine like the billion stars that dot the sky at nights that are devoid of clouds.

As the iridescent lights make her eyes sparkle, a vague idea forms in her brain.

Her thoughts float to reach the person who gifted her happiness, and a smile lit up on her face.

There was a mix of challenge and love in the quest she was about to partake and she was determined to succeed.

In slow, soundless steps, she made her way out of the room and out of the house.

A blur went past and his trained eyes were quick enough to catch the motion.

Shaking his head with realization, he followed behind.

As the steps took him down, and he stood under the shade of the multi-floored skyrise, she stayed yards away from it.

Her hair was wet, her skirt twirling, her face bright and beautiful.

He felt his heart race, whispering an urge to join with hers.

He restrained himself, but the scene in front of him was so spectacular that he doubted just how long his restraint would last.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned to him, half of her face golden under the street lights, the other half bearing the monotones of black and white.

She looked like the personification of their love.

Her life the golden, and his the black and white.

He could write sonnets to describe the picture-perfect scene that played before him like a film, but all he did was stand still, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to speak the words that hadn't already been spoken, his well-thumbed thesaurus gathering dust in the labyrinths of his mind.

She looked at him with a longing, a spoken call for him to join her as the rains continued to fall and purify the earth.

All he did was shake his head in silence.

She took it as a challenge, and he already knew how it was going to end.

For a minute he got lost in her memories, reminiscences from a time, from a moment that passed too quick, yet slow enough for him to remember every moment of it.

And suddenly, the faint tunes of a song brought him back to the present.

Every word of the foreign seeming language lucid clear, setting in a cascade of emotions and bringing pictures etched in past pages of the novel of life, making him go on a trip down the memory lane.

Aajkal Yad Kuch Aur Rehta Nahi

(Nowadays I don't seem to remember anything else)

Ek Bas Aapki Yad Aane Ke Bad

(Once your memories enchant me)

Yaad Aane Se Pehle Chale Aaiye

(Please come to me before the memories reach me)

Aur Phir Jaiye Jan Jane Ke Bad

(And then leave only after my breath leaves me)

The truth of the words came with an epiphany.

Every day of knowing her had been a way of painting the monotones of his life in colours he thought didn't belong to him.

Every moment she had ever spent away from him had made him yearn for her more than ever.

And yet he was foolish enough to think that miles of distance and hundreds of hours could make him forget her.

All the distress he felt could have been so easily ended if she had been with him then.

And now, as he dreams of an aeon with her, he promises to only let her go when his breath leaves him alone.

Apni Aankhon Me Mujhko Basa Lijiye

(Allow me to settle in the world of your eyes)

Apne Dil Me Mera Ghar Bana Dijiye

(Make a home for me in your heart)

Kya Karu Dil Kahi Aur Lagta Nahi

Pyar Me Aapse Dil Lagane Ke Bad

(What's the fault of mine if I can't concentrate on anything other than you, since our hearts connected by the string of love)

As the minutes pass by, melting into each other to form an hour, he loses all tracks of time.

And amidst the sweven he was living in right now, at a moment he could not pinpoint, she had taken his hand into hers and now he stood, lost in the amber of her eyes, forgetting all about the shower that now fell upon him.

As she continued to mutter the tunes in a harmony that went on in rhythm with the rain, he wished he could live in the world of her orbs.

To see the world as she saw it, to live the life from her perspective.

All he wanted was home in her heart, a tiny place on the lands of her soul.

Ishq Ke Maine Kitne Fasane Sune

(I have heard many tales of epic romances)

Husb Ke Kitne Kisse Purane Sune

(And stories about beautiful people from bygone eras)

Aisa Lagta Hai Phir Is Tarah Tut Kar

Pyar Hamne Kiya Ek Zamane Ke Bad

(But I feel I have been broken and got mended by love after centuries)

In muted harmonies, the two of them twirled, forgetting the world around them.

The way their eyes held onto each other, as if holding onto their lives, reminded him of the tales of love the folklores talk about.

The romances of princesses and maidens, and of beauties who earned their fairytale.

But as her palm stroked his cheek in a feather-light motion, he concluded that all those tales faint in front of the story of theirs.

There were no royals, no cruel witches setting up spells and no poisoned apples.

There were just two people, broken by the storms life made them navigate through, fitting perfectly as if parts of a whole.

He tried to remember if he had ever experienced anything as he did now, his lip tracing her ear as his hands wrapped around her waist.

It didn't even take him a second to know the answer.

He hadn't.

Aapka Naam Dil Se Nikalta Nahi

(Your name never leaves my heart)

Dillagi Me Koi Zor Chalta Nahi

Dillagi Me Koi Zor Chalta Nahi

(No force is strong enough to stop the meet of two hearts)

Aapko Bhul Jane Ki Koshish Bhi Ki

(I tried a hundred times to forget you)

Aur Tadpa Hun Main Bhool Jaane Ke Baad

(And suffered a suffering of pain and agony once I forgot you)

The rains accelerate and become a downpour. The mist envelops them but there was no care for the changing environment.

The distance between them ceases to exist as their hearts finally get the pleasure of beating in unison.

In the next moments, she whispers close to his ear, the last of the melody, and it's his story.

The story of how he couldn't get rid of the five-lettered name since the first time he ever came to know about it.

Of how no force in the world could stop two hearts from meeting if that's what destiny had in plan for them.

Who one loves and who loves them back determines so much in one life.

And for him, it was a chance, a risk he was scared to take, dreading the destruction it may cause.

After all when had anything ever-blossoming flowers in the city of his soul?

But this time not only did spring finally arrived with its flowery footsteps but also led to a discovery of himself, a part of him that was buried under layers of snow from the winter that reigned in his life for years.

She taps twice on his heart, indicating how he had tried to forget her, all those years ago. And how he broke himself in the process.

As she hummed the last lines, he bowed down in front of the forces that brought the two of them together.

He thanked the stars which aligned the way did to let him fall for her and agreed to hide, to let the rains fall, to let him have this night with her.

And looked in awe at the woman who brought about the sweetest catastrophe mankind has ever known.

And without uttering a word, he picks her and kisses her, saying all that was left unsaid with it.

PS: I actually have another version of the song, that I sung specifically to go with this, but Tumblr is giving me troubles to upload it. Do let me know if you would like to hear it someday.

Anyways, If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x female reader - Part Three (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Sorry for the huge delay on posting this - I was prepping to drive halfway up the country last week, and then when we got here my mother in law fell and badly broke her arm at the shoulder, and had to go to the local hospital, with surgery scheduled for Monday, so it’s been... busy...

Here’s part three of cranky spooder, with part four (final, long, and nsfw) scheduled for next Wednesday so that even if there’s more drama up here in the Lakes, you’ll still get your story.

This one is shorter, but I still hope you enjoy it. The fact that he's a widower is brought up, and the fire in which his wife and unborn eggs died is also mentioned, but briefly, and in no real detail. Hope you enjoy getting to know him a little better, and we find out his name in this one too.

On Monday morning, you pushed the door open with no small degree of trepidation, but found it deserted. Your task for that morning would take you up the wooden and brass ladders into the upper reaches of the library shelves, up and down, up and down. It was exhausting, but you welcomed the exertion after days of standing over piles of books and noting down titles.

On your fifth trip down, arms laden with books, you heard your name spoken from below, but as you looked down, your foot slipped, and the books rained down to the ground.

With a shout, you scrabbled for the ladder rung but missed, and found yourself falling through the void behind you. There were easily fifteen feet between you and the hard floor, but before you could even process what was really happening, something cushioned your back and you bounced softly, swaying perhaps four feet off the ground.

Looking around, you found that you were lying in a hammock of white webbing, slung hastily from a shelf nearby and gripped in the front talons of a drider’s two front legs.

Carefully, he lowered it to the ground and held out his hand to you. Shaking, you stepped from the webbing, too surprised to notice that it wasn’t sticky, and let him lead you back to the table. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded, adrenaline still flooding through you.

“I thought I wasn’t going to catch you for a second there.”

“Thank you,” you managed. “That would have been a nasty fall…”

“I shouldn’t have distracted you like that. It was thoughtless of me.”

Looking up at him as he cringed away slightly, you found yourself asking, “What’s your name?”

“My name? Why?”

You shrugged. “Everyone calls you ‘the master’, but you’re not my master. I don’t work here.”

“Yes you do,” he said, glancing at the table groaning with books for reshelving.

“Only for another four months,” you said. “I mean… I’m not part of your staff. I don't know what to call you.”

He swallowed thickly and half turned from you, showing you his profile. He had a slightly hooked nose and a sharp chin, and his dark, glowering brows didn’t lend any softness to his already angular and gaunt face. “Gilvas,” he said, so softly you nearly missed it. “My name is Gilvas.”

“Well, Gilvas,” you said with a faint chuckle, “I think we’ve got to find a way to stop scaring the living shit out of each other whenever we meet… Unless you want to keep shaking me from the stacks like an apple from a tree…”

He stepped back then and blinked softly. The tiniest smile graced his lips and he stared at you. “Perhaps we should,” he said. Taking another few steps back, his legs moving like silent mechanical levers in an inventor’s toy, he swallowed again and sighed. “What are you working on today?”

Your gaze dropped to the scattered books and you picked one up and held it out to him. “See for yourself.”

He reached falteringly for the book and missed, eyelids fluttering. “Like I care anyway,” he said, turning and leaving.

“Wait,” you called. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

At that, he halted again. “Excuse me?”

“I forgot…” you admitted. “I forgot that…”

“That what?”  he snarled, rounding on you and rearing up again, though only slightly this time. His pendulous body acted as a counterweight and he hung there like a nightmare between the shelves. “That I can’t see you in this light? That catching you was a literal shot in the dark? That I can’t read the title of a book this close to my face?” He brandished the tome before flinging it roughly into the depths behind you.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

Your admission must have taken the wind out of him because he sagged, returning his lethally-clawed spider legs to the ground again and turning away, resting his weight on the shelf with a hand as he did so. “I shouldn't have lost my temper,” he said quietly, and then left.

Chance meetings with him after that seemed to occur more regularly, though none matched that one for drama, to your relief. Finally, on one rainy afternoon as you stood by the window taking a break, he approached you. His hair was tied back off his face that day, revealing its gaunt angles and bruised-looking shadows. He was clearly a wreck of his former self, but you thought you could see the ghost of who he had been.

“You’ve finished the first four sections,” he stated.

You turned from the rainy view and nodded. “Yeah. It’s still a lifetime’s work to fix all this, you know? I’m just grouping it by category. If you want a detailed catalogue of everything that’s in here, you need to hire someone permanently.”

He nodded. “I’m aware. Though frankly, I can’t see the point. When I die, the whole estate will be broken up anyway.”

The bluntness of his words took you by surprise and you paced over to him. He wavered, as if on the point of stepping back into the safety of the shadows, but he remained where he was. He had the body of a black widow spider, you had come to realise, with the black carapace marked with the hourglass of red. The red streak in his hair highlighted it, and the colour was picked up again in his inhuman, garnet-red eyes and in the swirling, watercolour birthmark across the right side of his face and neck.

“Don’t say that,” you breathed.

“Why not?” he scoffed. “It’s the truth. I have no heirs.”

“Gilvas…” you began, but you stopped. It wasn’t your place. In the months you’d been here, all the two of you had discussed was poetry and shared the odd comment on whatever your current topic was.

With a long inhale, he said, “Tell me about yourself?”

“What about me?” you laughed. “I’m an archivist, my best friend is an orc, I’ve lived in Starfall Springs all my life, save for going to the university at Old Trollbridge, and —”

“What college?”

“At Trollbridge?” you asked. “Lady Francis.” Lady Francis of the Barbed Arrow, to give it its full title, but no one called it that.

He smiled. “I was at Calnehouse.”

Something softened in him then as he trailed his elegant, if bony, fingertips along the edge of the table.

“Met my wife there.”

Your heart leapt. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned her - or anything personal really. “What did she study?” you asked in a whisper.

“Foreign languages,” he said, voice catching. “She was brilliant.”

“You must have loved her very much…” you offered, your words feeling empty and inadequate.

Meekly, he nodded. “She would have liked you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.”

With a shy smile, you ventured, “May I ask why?”

He twitched his head in a ‘follow me’ gesture, and you walked by his side to the back of the library. A panel stood between two wide bookshelves, and he pressed a rosette amid the ornate carving. With a click, it sprang free from the wall, and he ducked through it with barely a whisper of room on each side of his body, leaving you to follow after. As the door closed behind you, the corridor was plunged into complete darkness.

You gasped and shot a hand out for the wall.

“This way. It’s not far,” Gilvas murmured, and a moment later, a shaft of light pierced through the absolute blackness and the pair of you emerged at the other end in an unfamiliar part of the house.

“Where are we?” you asked as you watched him squeeze through and step down into a slightly lower passage. He turned and, to your surprise, offered you his hand.

You took it and found his skin cool, almost cold, and his grip strong despite the slight tremble to his fingers. He steadied you and then let go, allowing you to look around. Portraits hung all down the corridor and you stared from one to the other of them. Most seemed to be of driders, although you picked out a tiefling in one, and what appeared to be a human in another.

Finally, your eyes lighted on a striking likeness of a young, female drider with pure white hair and lavender skin. “Is that…?”

Silently, he nodded and blinked slowly.

You crossed to her and stared up at the modestly sized painting. The drider was laughing, caught on the moment of turning to look out at the viewer, hair swirling. You thought of all the life and vivaciousness he’d missed out on since holing himself up in here after her death. “She’s beautiful,” you choked. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“There was a fire,” he said. “Took out the whole east wing. Gutted it. I… I couldn’t reach them.”

“Them?” you blurted unthinkingly.

“She was… She was with…”

A chill plunged through you as you remembered what Naril had told you, and you turned from the painting. “Stop,” you hissed. “You don't have to relive that. I’m sorry.”

He blinked down at you, face achingly sad. “I’m glad you came here, you know?”

“I thought I was just a nuisance, reorganising all your books and getting in the way…”

He managed a weak, wonky smile and shook his head. “This place has been the same for too long.”

With a quick glance back over your shoulder at the laughing drider, you asked, “How… Low long?”

“Nine years,” he said. “She died in our last year of university. In the spring.”

“And you’ve lived here alone all this time?”

“I’m not alone,” he said, turning and looking pointedly down the length of the corridor.

Frowning, you turned and found Chiara standing at the far end, gawping at the pair of you. “My lord?” the harpy croaked, looking stunned to find you there. “Is…?” she looked from you to him again. “Is everything alright?”

His lip twitched fractionally, and he nodded. “I was just…” he sighed. “Never mind. I should let you get back to work. I promise not to shake you from the rafters again.”

“Only if you promise to catch me,” you grinned as he opened up the passageway for you.

He faltered. And then nodded. “Deal.”

Final Part --->

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

__

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH65

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 65: The Queen’s Inheritance (IV)

Amid the dragon’s roar, the temple of cult ceremony began to collapse, but this did not stop the battle between the dragon and the monster. The two creatures in their full forms fought in this temple, and the devastating dragon breath burned around the altar, while the monster’s tentacles clung to the body of the dragon, making it impossible to bite off its tentacles.

The monster summoned by the blood of nearly 100 people couldn't fight Ning Zhou who hadn't shown his magic dragon form yet. However, after the irradiation of that strange eyeball, the monster had evolved strangely, and it had gained the power of the Devil of Power from the empty void, which made it stronger, scarier, and more cruel than before!

Like the magic dragon, it had surpassed the half-field level. Compared to Ning Zhou, who was still suppressing his own strength and avoiding being swallowed up by the origin of destruction, the irrational monster was much more terrible. It indulged itself unscrupulously, as if it were the evil in the world itself.

In the frenzied battle, no one noticed that Qi Leren, unconscious in a pool of blood, was fighting against the bewitching influence.

"Through the evil and filthy world, your soul will reach Utopia.

"There will be no more troubles and disappointments, and your life will be immersed in endless happiness and well-being.

"Demons forget the bloodthirst and desire to kill, human beings forget selfishness and greed, and all life is treated equally in Utopia.

"There will be no more death, because the soul is immortal, and you will have eternal life.

"You will also see your love, in that immortal paradise..."

Qi Leren suddenly woke up.

His body was still numb, but his consciousness woke up.

It seemed to be a whisper or a talking voice, which was still ringing and droning like a set program, but he was awake from the trance-like state.

He had suddenly thought of his lover, who wouldn't be there—a carefree Utopia.

He would only be in hell.

If he hadn’t couldn’t see him and bring him with him, he would have stay here forever, and accept all the torture in the world like self-punishment, until the dead lake water rose over his head. He won't even struggle, just sinks to the bottom quietly.

Qi Leren woke up because he couldn't let Ning Zhou go.

Being paralyzed, he couldn't move, and it was difficult to breathe deeply. Qi Leren choked back the stiff pain, slowly moved his heavy iron hand to his chest, and slowly clenched the item [Prophet's Heart] given to him by the Prophet.

[Prophet’s Heart: A god-level item hand-made by the noble and great Prophet that can make you feel the pleasure of turning into a bird. Holders can summon an archangel to come and fight on their behalf for 3 minutes with a cooling time of 24 hours.]

The battle between the magic dragon and the monster has been heated up, and the eyeball suspended in the air had continuously strengthened the monster’s power, making it quickly recover its damaged limbs, while the magic dragon has gradually liberated his own strength, and had become increasingly violent and crazy dominated by force of destruction. Under the imposing manner of the Destroyer, even such a horrible monster cannot take the upper hand.

The passerby—the initiator of this chaos—had stepped back a little, and retreated to a safe distance.

At this moment, he should be glad he hadn't gotten involved. The strength of this monster itself was about a half-field, and he could cope with it and experience a pleasant battle. However, when the strange eyeball of the master with an unknown field level had begun to interfere with the ceremony, the monster was itself strengthened to a level close to the field level.

Hmm..... Which Devil King was it?

Having entered the Nightmare Game little more than two months ago, the passerby who was confused about the power system and loyalty factions here scratched his hair and prepared to leave after watching the drama.

Although challenging a master made him happy, and he was willing to pay for it with his life, when he came to this world, he found that it was not an end wall but an amazing new world before him. He rekindled the enthusiasm of picking up the tangdao for the first time and couldn't wait to join the new world.

But not now.

The passerby reluctantly glanced at the chaotic scene and left the chaos behind.

The battle between the magic dragon and the monster became more and more fierce, and the temple became a huge colosseum. Under the duel between two monsters like ancient giants, it was as fragile as a sand castle on the beach. The force of destruction flooded Ning Zhou's reason, and the origin’s sin burning in the blood was imprinted in his soul. He suddenly forgot himself, but was immersed in the power of absolute purity and absolute terror. Until...

The twilit light of Heaven appeared in this sinful ceremony.

Qi Leren, who struggled to hold the Prophet's Heart, took a deep breath and activated the item.

In an instant, the power of the Village of Dusk’s holder ran through the boundless space and pierced the blockade of one and a half fields, falling from the sky, dispelling the bewitching power in Qi Leren's mind, and making him wake instantly.

At the same time, the pure power washed away his consciousness. He flew lightly, and his white wings slowly stretched behind him. Behind him was the Kingdom of Heaven reflected in the dusk, flowers, rites and music, angels… Everything was so holy and beautiful and desirable.

In this pure beauty, the demagogic Utopia seemed to be exposed to strong light, revealing its inner ferocious horror. It had never been a pure land on earth, but a world dominated by the Lord of Power. Walking into Utopia was like walking into a hell under high pressure. All of the self was stripped away, leaving only the dead bodies of human beings and demons, and the instructions of the Lord of Power were uniformly executed.

Under the holy light, the gloomy and evil atmosphere in the temple in the lake faded. What was even more amazing was that the dead bodies all over the ground turned into the soil and flowers under the magic of time, and white flowers blossomed from the blood, swaying in the Kingdom of Heaven at dusk like a dream.

The meat monster let out a piercing howl, black blood erupted from its eyes, and the black dragon took this opportunity to maintain its momentum. The flames of destruction erupted from his mouth, burning the struggling monster to ashes.

"...Prophet, what are you doing here again?" In the Village of Dawn, the Lord of Power felt the abnormality in the ceremony and sighed faintly. With her sigh, the huge eyeball suspended over the ceremony, watching everything, slowly rotated and made a sound.

The holy angel who smiled in the clean white flowers stared at her: "Little girl, your hand stretched too far."

The voice was the voice of Qi Leren, but the speaker was not him, but the Prophet in the underground ice palace in the Village of Dusk. Through Qi Leren's body, he warned the Devil of Power who was observing here and tried to intervene.

"Has it? I don't think so. But since you’ve spoken to me in person, let's call it a day. I have another thing left with you, and I will ask for it when I have time." From the huge eyeball, a buzzing inhuman sound echoed in this building.

"I'm waiting for you," said the holy angel.

The eyeball in the void disappeared, and the consciousness attached to Qi Leren left. Before leaving, he said one sentence to him: "The Illusionist is in the Dragon Ant Queen’s royal palace, and my letter is on the way, so I’ll ask this of you and Ning Zhou."

The Prophet's consciousness dissipated, and Qi Leren was still standing on the ground, with white flowers under his feet. The mechanical clock behind him had not finished three turns, so this power that did not belong to him had not disappeared.

He looked up at the magic dragon standing on the altar, and the magic dragon also stared at him. There was no dried blood on his body and claws, no evidence of his fight against evil and his downfall.

There was a lonely longing in the dragon’s eyes, and it was like a gentle sadness.

Ning Zhou understood his own destiny. Just like every powerful person, the process of becoming stronger was the process of constantly moving closer to his own original force. One day, he would forget himself, his love, how much he loved the world, and indulge himself and destroy everything under the influence of this original force.

No matter how hard he tried to restrain himself and convince himself to persist for the person he loves, he couldn’t deceive his own strength. When he had fought with the monster, he had clearly felt that he was falling. This kind of degradation was a kind of pleasure, and he didn't need to make any effort. As long as he emptied his brain, the strength in his blood would emerge continuously, making him stronger and destroying his enemies.

But when the pool of blood turned into a sea of flowers, and his lover stood in front of him in the form of an angel and looked at him, he felt sincere shame and fear for his weak compromise to strength.

He was afraid that one day he would hurt Qi Leren and the world.

"Ning Zhou." Qi Leren went up the stairs and came to the dragon.

Compared to the huge body of the dragon, he was like a pocket-sized toy. If the dragon's foot even patted him gently, he would be crushed into a pile of meat. This size gap even scared Qi Leren, but he still wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt him, insisting that the black dragon in front of him is still Ning Zhou.

The dragon closed its eyes, lowered its head slowly, and put it in front of him.

Just like it did in the lake of fire in Purgatory.

It was willing to bow to its beloved and let him comfort its body and soul with his hands.

"It's all right, it's all right..." Qi Leren murmured. The power borrowed from the Prophet had expired, the reflection of Heaven disappeared, his wings disappeared, and so did the intoxicating power. But his calming power still affected the dragon.

So the dragon gradually calmed down, and the force of destruction receded from his body, and he changed from magic dragon to human.

Qi Leren took his hand and looked at him, but his blue eyes that had always been firm avoided his sight.

This was an obviously weak and hesitant attitude, and Qi Leren certainly knew what it’s cause was. Because Ning Zhou had gotten stuck in that dead end again, the dead end that he almost killed himself because of.

He still couldn't accept a self who was a Devil, and was constantly sinking. Even if he was just doing justice as a Devil, it still caused him pain. Because at the end of this road to power, he was destined to become lost like every powerful person.

This was not something that the human will could contend with.

Qi Leren's heart was full of love that he didn’t know how to express, so he stood on tiptoe and left a comforting kiss on Ning Zhou's lips, tender and touching.

He was willing to burn himself with all his strength, as long as he could make Ning Zhou on the edge of hell feel the warmth of the world.

"I once told you, but now I have to say it again: your force has nothing to do with good and evil, and you have never fallen." Qi Leren clasped Ning Zhou's hand and repeated this sentence again.

Ning Zhou slowly rested his forehead against Qi Leren’s, relaxed his stiff body, and closed his eyes.

He wanted to hold this person tight, because this was his last salvation in the world.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out At Night

Chapter 2: Say My Name. A/N: Rough draft I’ll be posting to AO3 later after I go through the edits. Enjoy now, I’ll be polishing it later. I personally would let Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters step on me but that’s just me

Warnings: Character death, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, horror. Elements of non-con. 

              Time had no meaning for Desdemona anymore as her entire being floated comfortably into a quiet void. She was only accompanied by the sweet sound of silence that filled her ears and that in itself was comforting. She was in such a deep state of sleep that it felt like she would be trapped in the peaceful state of purgatory for eternity, but alas that would no longer be the case. Desdemona thought she was dead; in fact, she wanted nothing more than for that to be the case. Unluckily for her, she was about to wake to unfortunate events that would lead her to believe she was trapped in Hell. At first, she sees nothing in her field of vision but then she hears the shrill sound of familiar laughter that sends a shiver down her spine. The black abyss she grew accustomed to deteriorated all around her, a blinding flash of white light surrounds her for the briefest of moments before Desdemona’s eyes finally opened to reveal the disturbing scene before her. “Mother, my pet is finally awake! Oh, I was growing ever so impatient, my darling little one. I was so desperate to peer into those gorgeous eyes of yours again, I was tempted to pluck them out of your skull as you slept.” A voice whispered dangerously into her ears behind her, wet lips gently wrapping around her right ear before it was released with a pop. “Cassandra, you foul thing, learn your place! How many times do I have to say that it was I who found our prize? Do not touch what does NOT belong to you!” Screeched the woman with the green pendant as she materialized by her side in an instant. It didn’t take long for the fact to register that this was the first time that Desdemona could finally get a better look at the women who attacked the group in the village. Now that their hoods were down, she could better identify them by not only their hair color but by the manner of which they spoke and the pendants they wore. The way they continued to fight over her made her stomach turn as she struggled to comprehend why they wanted her alive and what they were going to do with her.

Another black mass of insects appeared and disintegrated into nothing just as quickly as the third woman decided to chime in, her yellow pendant gleaming brightly against the dimly lit room. Her dirtied, dark brown hair tickled Desdemona’s face as she leaned dangerously over her, the smirk on her face growing wider when Desdemona’s breath grew heavy again. She raised her hand and playfully walked two fingers up Desdemona’s arm and over her collarbone before she roughly grasped her prey’s chin and forced her to look directly into her eyes. “Hello, pretty little plaything, you’ll find that my sisters lack manners when they’re lusting over irresistible blood. You should feel honored you made quite the impression as you did. The others you brought with you are undeserving of your company and you’ll find that they deserve punishment simply by existing. Mother will see to that soon enough.” The brunette told her quietly as she straightened back up.

‘Wait, what did she mean by punishing the others for simply existing? Where were Desmond and Veronica?’ Desdemona worriedly thought to herself. The younger Hawthorne sibling attempted to move but she didn’t realize her wrists were restrained by old fashioned shackles until it was too late. She suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet by the two crazed sisters standing on either side of her. Each woman occasionally nuzzled into her neck and sniffed at her, nipping at her and licking exposed skin whenever the impulse struck.

Desdemona glanced around her environment and realized that they must be inside the castle if the polished flooring, centuries old artwork and beautiful grand staircase were of any indication. Where else would they be after getting lost out on the trail?

The frightened young woman made the mistake of looking over to her left and found that the red-haired woman known as Daniela was staring at her with a glazed look in her eyes. The sight of her lips parting and blowing her a small kiss made Desdemona’s heart nearly jump out of her throat. She couldn’t avert her gaze out of fear and Daniela took that as an invitation to flirt the only way she knew how. She brought two fingers to her face, spaced them out to a “V” shape and made an obscene gesture with her unusually long tongue, moaning loudly when Desdemona blushed and looked away. “Don’t be shy, my love. Once we take care of Mother’s unwanted pests, we can finally be alone together and I’ll taste you once and for all. You’ll find that I do want to eat you but only in the best way possible. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?” Daniela growls out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sound of Desdemona’s blood rushing through her veins and her rapidly beating heart thudding against her chest awakened a whole new need in Daniela. Desdemona wanted to cry out but refrained from doing so when she realized somebody else was coming.

Heels could be heard clicking from afar, a door slamming open and voices shouting in protest behind what seemed to be an impossibly tall, statuesque women. Desdemona’s jaw dropped for two reasons: The woman who entered the room dramatically exuded such class and confidence that it didn’t look awkward in the manner in which she had to bend so far low to pass through the doorway. When she uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position, her golden eyes met gray uncertain ones and they immediately pierced through Desdemona’s soul. The woman brought out a whole new level of terror within her. The second reason Desdemona’s mouth remained agape was due to the fact that the mysterious woman dragged along the wounded bodies of both Desmond and Veronica.

‘They’re still alive!’ Desdemona thought, hope rising in her chest the moment she saw both her best friend and twin reacting to her presence. “Des, you’re okay! Christ, the way these fucking things were talking about you, I thought the worst happened.” Desmond called out to her, desperation in his voice as he attempted to crawl his way towards his sister. Veronica tried to break free from the intimidating woman’s grasp but the woman merely raised a perfectly manicured brow in response and tugged on the chains wrapped around both Desmond and Veronica. They had collars clasped tightly around their necks and they choked as a result of the chains being pulled back.

When Veronica glanced back at Desdemona, the furious expression on her face softened when she noticed the bedraggled state her friend was in. Desmond noticed it too and it only served to fuel his anger. “What the fuck did they do to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll slit their fucking throats and make them pay if they so much as tried to ra-,” Veronica began but was immediately cut off with a harsh slap to the face. “Goddamn, bitch!” “Silence, vermin! Speak when you’re spoken to or you’ll learn your place soon enough should you continue to use foul language in my house. Now, pray tell my daughters, what is it that has you all so eager about entertaining this particular foreigner?” The elegant woman asks as she gives Desdemona a once over. The manner in how she reacts to inhaling Desdemona’s scent alarms the younger Hawthorne sibling. She decides to inspect her more closel with flared nostrils and enlarged pupils. She seemed…pleased, for whatever reason. ‘Do they plan on sacrificing you to appease whatever wicked deity they believe in?’ Desdemona nervously asked herself.

One of the daughters, the one known as Bela and the one with the red pendant, spoke first. “We were out on the hunt in the village when I suddenly picked up on her delicious scent, mother. She’s a carrier of our favorite blood type. We haven’t had anyone like her in so long, we were hoping we could make a feast of her with your permission.”

Desdemona tensed up at the suggestion and vigorously shook her head. “M-may I ask what w-we did to offend you and your daughters? I apologize for any wrongdoing, ma’am but we’re just Americans on vacation and we ran out of gas on the way to Bran! We weren’t expecting to get lost but please let us go, we didn’t come out here to hurt anyone!” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes flicking from Daniela to Cassandra and finally, the incredibly powerful woman standing before.

“Des, don’t go begging them. They’re not going to listen to reason, believe me; we tried!” Desmond warned.

The quiet dark-haired woman, Cassandra, sneered at Desdemona’s twin and slashed at his face with her sickle in hand. Desmond cries out and attempts to cover his face with his cuffed hands only to have them ripped away. She kicks his chest and flattens him on the ground. Cassandra smiles wickedly as she brings her heel to the open cut and presses hard against his face for a moment, stomping on him a few times for good measure. Both Veronica and Desdemona scream, begging the sadistic sister to stop tormenting him but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Good, girl, Cassandra. The hideous man-thing won’t shut his hole. I’m this close to gutting him on my newly polished floor and letting you girls get your fill for the evening. Ugh!” The woman in charge said before looking over to you once again. “It seems your exotic little treat has good manners considering what she is, however, and wishes to bargain with us. I can be a most gracious host and I’m all ears but I have two conditions if you wish to prolong your life, little one. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu and these beautiful girls of mine are my daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.”  

Veronica scoffed and spat at the floor, earning a glare from the titan of a woman who was apparently on the edge of snapping. Desdemona was ready to leave in one piece so of course she stepped in and spoke on behalf of her brother and her furious friend. “P-pleasure to meet you all, I’m Desdemona Hawthorne and that’s my twin brother, Desmond and my childhood friend Veronica. Ma’am, or My Lady, this all has to be a colossal misunderstanding and we are willing to pay any price if you allow us to leave and return home.”

The trembling girl gasped the moment she felt a pair of cold hands wrap themselves around her breasts from behind. Another set of hands reached for her belt buckle and began undoing her jeans rather enthusiastically. The next thing she knew, her v-neck shirt had been torn in half and her pants torn and ripped off her body.

“Desdemona, such a lovely name and what a lovely body. Mother, please let me keep her? I promise I won’t break her.” Daniela whined as she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her victim’s bare torso. It didn’t help the situation at hand when Daniela’s touch left Desdemona arching back into her, which must have sent the wrong signal because the delusional woman squealed with delight.

“If you or Cassandra had it your way, you’d bleed her dry on the first night and waste her blood when I would savor every inch of her until her very last moment!” Bela complained, her fingers inching dreadfully closer to the band of her undergarments.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off my sister, you twisted bitches. Stop fucking touching her! I’ll kill you, I swear it!” Desmond bellowed, managing to pull away from Lady Dimitrescu’s clutches and lunged at the women that were touching his twin inappropriately. He swung his arms at Daniela and used the length of the chain to whip against the side of her body. Daniela, caught off guard by his sudden attack, screeched in surprise and this immediately angered Alcina.

“ENOUGH!” Lady Dimitrescu signaled for her daughters to apprehend Desmond and the girls obliged, their concern for Daniela overwhelming even to them. Bela and Cassandra ambushed him on either side and using their transformative powers, they pulled him away from their youngest sibling and slammed his body against the nearest wall. Cassandra pinned his shackled hands above his head while Bela held onto his thrashing legs tightly.

Veronica was breathing heavily but made no move to run to him, not while Alcina held her leash tightly. Her brows were furrowed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she tried to refrain from saying anything that would cause them to harm Desmond.

Desdemona could only cry out for mercy as it physically pained her to watch her own twin suffer at the hands of these monsters.

Meanwhile, Alcina had been hunched over Daniela and whispered disturbingly soothing things into her daughter’s ears, words expressed by a loving mother to her daughter, and it looked almost normal. When Alcina stepped away from Daniela, she composed herself after displaying what she deemed a moment of vulnerability and shot Desmond a withering glare. “How dare you touch my daughter with your filthy man-hands, you wretched creature. I can see there is no taming a wild animal like you and like all wild animals, they must be put down! I was ready to lay down my conditions if I were to let you leave alive but you really screwed yourself. Desdemona Hawthorne, seeing as you were polite and tried to communicate in a manner I found pleasing, you shall be gifted to my daughters as their personal form of entertainment. You will be their plaything, and your trashy friend, Veronica, who is now under my employ as a house maiden, will be forced to clean you up after every time they choose to play with you. She will be beaten and broken until she learns what it is to be obedient.” Alcina growls out menacingly, enjoying the way Veronica begins to hyperventilate at the terrifying concept of being broken in by someone like Lady Dimitrescu. Alcina drags Veronica across the room as she approaches Desmond and Veronica is now desperately trying to claw her away from the elegant countess. Raising her free hand in the air, sharp elongated claws form almost immediately at the tips of her fingers. It was in this moment that panic begins to set within Desdemona as she realizes what she’s about to do and so she attempts to rush Lady Dimitrescu. Daniela is quick to catch her prey and uses force to subdue Desdemona. She slams her knee against Desdemona’s back and brings her down to her knees, hooking both of her arms from around and underneath the smaller girl and forcefully raises her arms up. “Let this be a hard lesson, my darling. Don’t you ever disrespect my mother in her own home or disobey her when she gives you an order. There are worst things than death, love, and they wander the mansion unsupervised at night.” Daniela whispers into Desdemona’s ears before bringing her attention back to her mother. Heart hammering against her chest, Desdemona’s blood runs cold when she sees Desmond shed a tear at the realization that he was going to pay the ultimate price. In a quivering voice, Desmond beckons his sister to look at him one final time.

‘Oh no, no no no. They can’t do this, they won’t do this! I have to help him. I’m not sure I can live without my other half, it would be too cruel for me to go on without him!’ Desdemona thinks, weeping at the sight of her twin brother sacrificing his own life for hers. “P-please, my l-lady, let him go I beg you! Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything if you let him go. Don’t take him away from me, please.” Desdemona begs. Steely gray eyes meet hers and she recognizes that he is resigned to his fate. She sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to break eye contact as he says his final goodbye. “See you on the other side, Dezzy. Promise me you’ll make it out of here. Mom deserves to know. I love you and V…so very much.” He tells her with a wavering voice. In the background, Veronica is verbalizing her objections and pleads for Desmond’s freedom but in the end, it was all for naught.

With an evil smirk and a deep chuckle, Alcina brings down her claw at Desmond’s abdomen, slashing him so deeply that his innards begin to seep out of him.

Desdemona feels like she’s suffocating, her lungs unable to function as she struggles to make a sound no matter how much she wants to cry out her brother’s name one more time. She throws her head back and opens her mouth to wail but nothing comes out but a few choked coughs. The surviving twin couldn’t explain it but it felt like Alcina personally reached into her chest and destroyed the most important part of her being. Desmond was her other half and upon death, a most profound connection between siblings is severed and there lies nothing left but an echo of what was once there. Desdemona felt…empty, as if she would never be whole again now that her brother was gone.

She shuts her eyes and the horrifying image of Desmond’s intestines piling up on the floor and blood sloshing everywhere replays again in her mind. The hurt is renewed and this time, she summons every ounce of emotion she could as she screams out his name, Veronica’s loud, panicked screaming fueling her grief.

“DESMOND!”

She screams it over and over again until her body slumps in Daniela’s arms. She’s too weak to do anything else. She can hear voices and the sound of heels clicking but she can’t hear what is being said. Desdemona tries her very best to drown out the background noise as her sorrow was too great but Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and it is what she murmurs in Desdemona’s ears as she passes by that makes her whimper for an entirely different reason.

“Just you wait until I make you say my name like a prayer, love. This is only the beginning.”

[doomedandstoned]

Bog Wizard Drape the Planet in ‘Miasmic Purple Smoke’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Tom Hanno

I've proclaimed my love of the band Bog Wizard in the past, their album, From the Mire, was one of my favorites from 2020. Now, shortly after releasing some brilliant vinyl variants for that record, the band is gearing up for the release of 'Miasmic Purple Smoke' (2021) on December 3rd.

One of the things that really drew me into the music of Bog Wizard is the use of 8-string guitars, you just don't hear a lot of bands using them in this genre. Hell, most of the bands that I know use them are actually tech-death groups like Allegaeon, so it's cool to hear them used as slow, sludgy, thick, super phat sources of sound.

The first song on this record is called "Barbaria," and is tied with "The Rogue" for being my favorite track. The name "Barbaria" intrigued me, so I Googled it to see what it was in the Dungeons & Dragons world -- and it turns out that it was an actual region at one point in history. According to Wikipedia, "Barbaria was the name used by the ancient Greeks for a region of Northeast Africa containing several city-states, dominating trade routes in the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean."

However, the guys in the band informed me that their use of the word is different. "Barbaria is a fictional place we came up with that sort of embodies the Barbarian class in D&D. We are making references to barbarian characters we've played, while also sort of venting our frustrations and anger from over the last year and a half. Like D&D, it's escapism."

The main riff is ultra low thanks to the 8 string guitars, which are tuned down half a step from standard tuning, but what I really love is the brief, spoken word piece that comes in before the actual verse vocals make their appearance. The difference between the two vocal parts makes for a cool feel, really hammering in the heaviness that Barbaria has to offer, and complimenting the riff with perfection.

Up next is the aforementioned song, "The Rogue," and there is no doubt that this one is about the D&D character of the same name. I'm not going to assume that everyone reading this knows the ins and outs of playing D&D, so I'll explain what that character is all about. Wikipedia says that, "A rogue is a versatile character, capable of sneaky combat and nimble tricks. The rogue is stealthy and dexterous, and in early editions was the only official base class from the Player's Handbook capable of finding and disarming traps and picking locks."

Running at just over ten minutes in length, "The Rogue" is nothing less than the heaviest sounding track on this album. The riffs are phenomenal, ranging from crushing eighth note pummeling to sludgy destruction that is almost Mastodon flavored. There's also a jazzy feel about six minutes in, where the guitars and drums are dueling against one another, yet firmly locked in to each other as well. That whole section is awesome, as it brings about a feeling of chaotic tension.

Another track that I feel is strong is the title track, "Miasmic Purple Smoke." You will notice a distinct difference in the vocal performance during this song. That is because their drummer, Harlen Linke, is singing the lead vocals with a friend of theirs, one Nynisha Patterson, supplying her own vocal skills to the track. Nynisha has a beautiful voice, and her backing parts really add something special to the song.

The music has more of a rock vibe than some of their other tracks, with a sound that reminds me of bands like Kiss. There are a few heavier riffs that occur, but the majority of this one sits in that rock feel.

In contrast to the title track, "Stuck in the Muck" comes out heavy for the entirety of the song. It's short, just over a minute, but the band fills that time with a heavy riff and cool vocals. I dig the dynamic shift it creates between Miasmic Purple Smoke and the album's final song, "The Void Beckons."

"The Void Beckons" has a super slow tempo, atmospheric synth accents, deep guitar tones, and what I feel is the heaviest vocal performance of the entire album.

This one could almost be the perfect soundtrack for a haunting space film, as those synths add a creepy, celestial type of feel. Couple that spacey flow with q slow tempo, and you can almost imagine yourself floating through space and time as Bog Wizard pummels you with glorious riffs.

Miasmic Purple Smoke is a fitting next step in the evolution of Bog Wizard. Despite the fact that it's only been about a year since their full length debut, and only three since their first EP, you can hear how much they've grown as a unit, and as songwriters. So my suggestion to you is that you go out and preorder this excellent slab of sludge, I'm positive that you will not be disappointed by the sounds that will emanate from your stereo. Enjoy!

Miasmic Purple Smoke by Bog Wizard

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[lovethisletters]

The angel and hopelessness

Honestly I don't even know what this is, I think a one-shot with an omniscient narrator but also...I just think this is some sort of writing rant(? I didn't have any clear view of what I wanted to write and I sort of...just went along with it and this is the end result...I guess (?) Idk I'm confused.

TW: Implied depression, self-destructive behavior and angst.

Disclaimer/additional notes: this is a one-shot written with an omniscient narrator andMC doesn't make an appearance here.

This is not a Simeon×Lucifer btw, this is all just from a platonic perspective!

Also!!!! I highly recommend listening to the song featured below for a better more immersive experience!

Summary: Simeon deals with his own guilt left after the celestial war and tries to re-establish his relationship with the brothers, however he soon learns how much self-pity can blind one's perspective.

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“Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness.

Listen to it carefully.”

― Richard Bach

 The mornings in the Devildom have always been dark, but today you wonder... is it that your heart has been heard by the clouds that cover the sky and they’ve had a little sympathy?

That fantasy seems to lessen your grief, but still, you can't smile like always; right now, your body feels too heavy… it just can't.

You are about to pray like every morning ... but for some reason you feel that the words you are trying to formulate will vanish between sobs as soon as they leave your mouth.

So you decide to lie down on the floor for a while.

“Simeon, you should rest a bit, otherwise, Luke and I are going to end up carrying you back to your room.”

Solomon's words resonate in your mind and you just remember the expression of pure concern you saw in Luke from the corner of your eye when the sorcerer mentioned your pitiful appearance.

You laughed it off like it wasn’t a big deal; but deep down you knew no one is going to believe that bullshit anymore.

At least…not after what happened.

A past such as yours can only be ignored for so long…especially when the ones who are part of it and you’ve hurt are right in front of you.

Call it nativity or overly optimistic but when you first herd you had been selected for the exchange program there was this one thought that completely took over your mind:

“Do what’s right.”

You hadn't spoken to the brothers in a long time and there was still so much left to say.

And you tried, you really did!

But every time they even felt that you were about to bring up the subject, they changed it or even started fighting over…whatever. All to prevent you from starting that fearsome conversation.

So you let it be.

“Perhaps If I use a different approach…”

They may not want to talk, but you can feel their emotions, it is your special talent after all. You can feel their pain and you know that even though they appear fine they have not yet healed.

You feel that you can drown in their hardships and every day it is more difficult to pretend that nothing is happening.

You try again, this time with more tact and respecting the space that has been given to you.

Inside you there is still the hope that one day everything will go back to the way it was before.

But...sooner or later you must understand that wounds like these will always be open.

"Lucifer! Wait! "

You pushed too far and now the little pieces of the puzzle you managed to connect are breaking apart once again.

“No, Simeon! I don’t need your pity!”

Everything was going great, the two of you where reminiscing about the past after Mammon mentioned a funny anecdote that made Lucifer laugh, but then…you had to ruin everything, didn’t you?

You had to mention her name.

Everyone in the room froze, yet you didn’t stop! You went on a ramble of how you wished things could’ve been different.

If it weren’t because Satan placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from saying anything else, perhaps you would have missed the expression on his face.

And then you saw it.

Lucifer’s face twisted in anger, his eyes betraying him and threatening tears slipping from the corner of his eyes…

What a heartbreaking sight…who knew a demon could cry like that?...

“Lucifer! I’m sorry!”

The Demon stopped in his tracks, yet he didn’t dare to face you.

“I’m sorry…that I- I didn’t…do more, I’m sorry that I was there and didn’t said anything! I’m sorry for abandoning you!”

The words you’ve been holding since you came here finally slipped out with such ease yet so much pain you didn’t even realized you had started crying.

“I’m sorry, I truly am, I’ve should’ve done something…”

You took a step forward.

“But please, Lucifer, I don’t want to lose you again, brother.”

Silence, but then…a small and quiet “laugh” was heard.

“Brother, you say?”

His tone was tranquil yet his words where infected in such poisonous rage.

“Simeon, I can think of many words to describe you, but brother is no longer one of them.”

It ached; not only in your heart but in your memories and hopes.

“Lucifer…”

A whisper that intended to reach his hearth, yet it was lost and never found in this void of hopelessness.

“I never blamed you for it, I truly never did…It hurt me, yes, that you hadn’t joined us in our fight, in our grief, but never once I thought it was your fault.”

And slowly he turned once again towards you, his eyes hollow and devoid of any emotion.

“I never wanted to believe it, but I guess is true. Isn’t it, Simeon? Angels truly are selfish beings.”

There are no words to describe the horrid hit of truth. Fast and unforgiving of our own bubble.

“Don’t insult my sister’s memory with your self-centeredness.”

You don’t know when everyone left or how much time you stood there frozen, eyes lost in nothingness.

You only felt the small hand of Luke grasping your own and slowly guiding your zombie-like body towards the exit.

And now here you are, days later, unable to shake off those words now heavy in your mind; not allowing any thoughts to slip by.

But, how could you?

There was no lie in that demon’s words.

So caught up in your own feelings that you were unable to truly understand how others were hurting.

And you call yourself an angel?

A glance at the mirror in the side of your bed and you feel like now you can see it.

“We angels…truly are…pitiful beings.”

 A truth that binds you in hopelessness…

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If you find any grammatical errors let me know! I'm trying to improve my english and that would help me so so much!

I will forever thank you if you go check out my other profile: @aileysmirnov  where I post things about my OC: edits, one-shots, imagines, art, etc. If you like Greek mythology and the bat family maybe you would get to be as fond of her as much as I am!

Anyway, thank you for reading!