#I love you dear phantom moth
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proudcatmother · 20 days ago
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My best friend is a phantom moth
We r coool we r cool we r rad
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guruneko · 3 months ago
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“What will become of my dear friend?
Where will his actions lead us then?"
For People who are unaware of my spontaneous Vampire AU, here is a small recap (or refer back to this blog posts from previous years): 
2022
2023
Vampires are seen as mosquitoes in this world. They visit humans very frequently so they are viewed as a nuisance. Especially if the Vampires enjoy your blood type, they visit the same household over and over. It’s kind a similar to how we view grocery stores. So because of that, a lot of people do have repellants to ward off these pesky vampires. However, some witnesses have stated that the Vampire are very beautiful so a lot of people purposely do not hang any repellants to get the chance to see vampiric beauty.
 Much like how we have bug control, they have Vampire Hunters. The biggest Vampire Hunters is the Takahashi Household. They are famous for their skilled work and their various hunts of the strongest vampires. It has been said that they purposely maintain their body to provide delicious blood to the vampires to purposely attract them (almost like moths to a flame). Many Vampires are aware of this so despite the tempting smell, so they usually hold back except for one Vampire named Takumi. In which that he does prove the rumours are very true. Their blood is by far the best even compared to the most wealthiest blood in the market. 
If you’re wondering as to how Vampires get their blood, there isn’t much of a law system so a Vampire can steal a human’s blood without punishment. The Vampire can either choose to hunt or simply buy it from the market. Similar to our meat market, there are grades to the blood.
 First being Commoner blood, the most standard level of blood. Next is High blood, usually are owners of wealthy humans. Next up is Aristocrat, as the name states, blood from old nobility. Depending on the name, the price can vary. After that is Royal blood, known for its prestige. Then lastly, Hunter’s blood which is the only unattainable blood since every Vampire who tried to acquire it usually ends up being dead. It’s the most sought after blood due to the smell of it being so good that even without tasting it, you just know it would be divine. 
(Fun fact, the wealthy vampires actually enjoys the Aristocrat and High blood more than the Royal blood. The Royal blood is known to be a little too sugary and the lack of exercise ruins the taste.) 
I always like to imagine this vampire AU as a weird musical and oddly enough, Nightmare before Christmas and The Phantom Opera always get the perfect vibe. 
No really, I have this mini musical in my head that if I don’t sketch it out, I will go insane. 
The funniest part when I first was writing this, it was started off as a joke. When I heard that Vampires are beautiful to lure humans in, I just thought about closeted dudebros. Like what if some dude fell in love with a Vampire but blamed it on the Vampire’s charm. Rather than realizing his feelings, he is like “THIS VAMPIRE IS CURSING ME WITH HIS HANDSOMENESS. YOU DEMON.” And the Vampire is like, “Dude, I wasn’t even trying to charm you.” 
Like wouldn’t it be funny of an over dramatic man being like, “BE GONE YOU FOUL BEAST” and he throws a piece of garlic at the vampire and he is like, “ow…. You asshole…. You could have just told me to leave” 
If you would like to know yes, Ryosuke does bring up the ridiculousness of Keisuke being in a relationship with a vampire despite him being a Vampire Hunter. Of course, Keisuke would do the cliche thing of “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND OUR LOVE” and just storm off. 
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violetlunette · 1 year ago
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Why do we bother to stay? Why are you running away? Don’t you feel like severing?
Inktober Challenge: Day 1; “Listen to me!”  |  Use a song to inspire your art for today!
Trigger warning(s): *hints at suicidal thoughts *blood
Spoiler Warning(s); Twst Chapter Seven
Silver had no idea where he was or how he got there. But he knew he had to leave, or he would never leave. However, he hadn’t even taken a single step before the trap was sprung. Silver gasped as the inky black threads wrapped around him, then winced as they cut into his pale flesh, drawing blood. He watched as the red leaked out of his skin and the black ink seeped in, turning his skin gray. ‘No, no!’ Silver attempted to pull away, but it was like he was trapped in a web and his struggles were just attracting the attention of a spider.
Behind him was a Phantom, but it was like none he had ever seen. It had a head of an ink bottle with cracks around the middle, allowing ink to dribble out. It wore a gown that was ever-changing from blue to pink that fluttered like a flag in the wind with a crown of gold and a necklace. Silver swallowed. “Who…What… Why are you here?” Petals drifted from the rose on its head as it stared at the teen. “I’m here to take you away from it all.” It reached out, but Silver jumped back. “NO!” He yanked the sword from his side and threw it into the Phantom’s chest. Ink leaked from the wound like pools of blood as the blade pierced it. However, the creature didn’t seem to be in any sort of pain. It tilted its head, golden crown glinting in the nonexistent light. “Why do we bother to stay?” The Phantom’s voice echoed about in a quiet whisper, gentle and sad. Long, golden curls danced around the Phantom like rays of sun that tempted the frightened Silver in, like a moth to a flame. “They’ll never be able to forget.” Silver swallowed, yanking his gaze away. “That’s not true--” he muttered, staring determinedly at the ground. “Father—he loves me.” The Phantom read his heart instantly. “Yes. He does. But do you deserve it?” The Phantom inquired. A hand entangled with threads lifted itself, ink dripping like drops of rain. “Listen to me; Can’t you imagine the conflict in his heart when he looks at you? You, who has the blood of the ones who destroyed his home and the lives of his people. The one who has the face of the one who killed those he held most dear.” Silver stumbled back as if the Phantom had removed the blade from her chest and stabbed him. “Every time your father looks at you, he must be reminded of his sorrow. And yet—he held you. Nursed you. Protected you. Loved you. Even though he must have suffered doing so.” Silver’s throat went dry. How many times has he thought these thoughts in his head? He thought of his father’s smile. How much of his pain was he hiding behind that smile when he looked at him? And Malleus-- “No! Just get away from me!” Silver turned and ran, the treads trailing behind him. His haggard breath echoed in his ears, only matched by his heartbeat as it pounded against his chest, like a prisoner banging on the bars of its prison. He had to get out of here. He had to get away before-- “Why are you running?” The voice was at his ear. He shuddered, nearly falling forward before the threads yanked him back. “Are you trying to avoid judgment?” Silver clenched his eyes shut. “N-no! I…” He shook himself as the hands pawed over him like he was a kitten, his body becoming as cold as ice. “Your blood killed them. Your blood destroyed Briar Valley and the lives of those in it. Because of your blood, Malleus grew up without a family. Will you not accept responsibility and disappear?” “I…I didn’t…” “You were born in the palace that was stolen from Malleus. You have your life at the cost of his mother. And Lilia’s beloved.” Silver stopped his struggles. He recalled the memory of Malenora, the love she had for her unborn son, a love Malleus never got to feel. Because of the Knight of the Dawn. His father, his blood. Tears fell down his face as he trembled, his veins turning black as the shadows that surrounded him. “I…” Strings wrapped around his weeping eyes, blinding him.
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“It hurts, does it not?” As the gentle words rang around him, he felt the thread around his neck tighten. It didn’t hurt, but he knew this wasn’t a good thing. Yet he couldn’t stop it. “Don’t you want to stop hurting them? Break the chains they placed on themselves for you? Cut the bonds that hurt them?” The thread cut into his neck. “Don’t you feel like severing?” Blood fell.
--
Phew! I had to do a quick job here! (Sorry it’s sloppy!) Anyway, I put my Halloween playlist on shuffle and got the song “Evelyn, Evelyn,” which kinda fits for how I imagine Silver and his Phantom getting along, but I focused on three lines in particular;
“Why do we bother to stay?” Why stay if he’s hurting the ones he loves?
“Why are you running away?” Why is Silver running from the Phantom who just wants to end his pain?
“Don’t you feel like severing?” Cutting his bonds to his family and life so he’ll stop hurting people.
I may expand on this in the future in a fic because I see potential for angst. (I also want to create a better image.)
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this quick ficlet and wish me luck because I’m going to try to do two inktobers this year! Why? Because I tend to bite off more than I can chew to "challenge myself."
("clean" image, btw.)
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plutodetective · 2 years ago
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It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke of my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the table, on which was written:—
"I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me.—D." I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know I had finished; but I could not find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old, though in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but there they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my table, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal—I do not know whether to call it breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six o'clock when I had it—I looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked the Count's permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or even writing materials; so I opened another door in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found it locked. (dracula)
When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp standing on the marble top of an old Louis-Philippe chest of drawers. I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from my room led to a very comfortable bath-room. On returning to the bedroom, I saw on the chest of drawers a note, in red ink, which said, 'My dear Christine, you need have no concern as to your fate.  You have no better nor more respectful friend in the world than myself.  You are alone, at present, in this home which is yours.  I am going out shopping to fetch you all the things that you can need.' I felt sure that I had fallen into the hands of a madman.  I ran round my little apartment, looking for a way of escape which I could not find. (the phantom of the opera)
The parallels are so chilling. The note. The locked doors. Christine is more desperate than Jonathan because she already knows for a fact that she’s been kidnapped (and I love the inversion too. She fell into the trap because she thought Erik was a supernatural being, an Angel sent by her father, when his danger lies in the fact that he’s just a normal man. Jonathan fell into the trap thinking he was going to meet a normal man, and fell in the clutches of a dangerous vampire), while Jonathan is frightened of the red flags, but still hasn’t enough evidence to fully realize what happened to him. And I love the differences too. Erik, under the delusion that he’ll later manage to make Christine into his wife, almost seems to care about his captive’s comfort. She has the means to do her toilette, and assurances that she won’t be touched without her consent. Of course, that’s nothing. He has fucking kidnapped and imprisoned her, and she’s right to despair. But even at these early stages, when Dracula has yet to show his true colors, Jonathan is being offered less than Christine. Dracula later claims to love him, yet he’s already deprived of mirrors and is already being touched in ways that make him uncomfortable. I love and am fascinated by both the similarities and the differences in these two passages. I love Jonathan Harker, Gothic Heroine.
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evehc · 2 years ago
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Songs About Ghostly Spirits
Deep in the misty moors and haunted hills, there are melodies that echo through the night, tales that sing of spirits and songs about ghosts that chill the soul. From the mournful wail of a phantom choir to the haunting whisper of a ghostly lullaby, these spectral tunes beckon to those who dare to listen.
Songs about ghosts and spirits have a certain allure, a pull that draws us in like moths to a flame. They speak of the unknown, the unseen, the unexplainable, stirring something primal within us. Each haunting note, each eerie harmony, carries with it the weight of the unknown, the mysteries of the afterlife, and the whispers of those who have passed beyond the veil.
In the quiet of the night, when the moon is full and the shadows are long, these songs about ghosts and spirits can be heard on the wind. They tell of spectral apparitions, of restless souls seeking redemption, and of the eternal struggle between light and darkness. They remind us of the fragility of life, and the inevitability of death.
The melodies are haunting, the lyrics steeped in mystery, and the voices of the singers seem to echo from beyond the grave. The music takes on a life of its own, each note a fleeting reminder of what once was, and what may yet be. And in the end, we are left with a sense of wonder, of awe, and of the unknown, forever searching for the answers to the mysteries that lie beyond.
So let us listen, dear friends, to the songs about ghosts and spirits that fill the air. Let us embrace the unknown, the unexplainable, and the supernatural. For in these spectral melodies, we may find a glimpse of the eternal, a hint of the divine, and the promise of a world beyond our own.
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pomegrnate · 8 months ago
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her smile was a welcomed pleasure, a reminder of all the time passed trailing her skin with his hands, all the secret kisses they've shared, every lousy whisper their lips have sealed. 'as possessive as i remember' he added, touching gently her chin with the tip of his fingers, trailing an imaginary path. she didn't meant to be his, they weren't meant to be together. yet wondering in a world without her was a lost thought now that he had taste what life with elodie could be. a bond as tragic as it was intoxicating, a union fraught with the perilous beauty of shakespearean tragedy. their names whispered in hushed tones, like a forbidden incantation, for theirs was a love that defied reason and courted catastrophe. 'it 'salright' he assured, still moving towards her, getting her closer to him, the only way he could or knew how to. she was the epitome of grace, a delicate flower in a world of thorns, her eyes ablaze with a fire that consumed all who dared to gaze upon her. and he was the embodiment of passion, a tempestuous storm raging against the confines of society, his heart aching for the one who held the key to its salvation. their love was born amidst the chaos of feuding families, a forbidden romance blossoming in the shadows of ancient grudges and bitter rivalries. yet, like moths drawn to a flame, they could not resist the pull of destiny, their hearts entwined in a dance of desire and despair. their clandestine meetings were fraught with danger, each stolen moment a precious treasure in a world that sought to tear them apart. he could sense the tension in the air at his words, how the fine machinery of her mind was cooking something. yet he could phantom which of his words could have creating such a turmoil. the questionnaire surprised him, letting him wondered why would she grasp such a minimal detail. 'not anything distinctive, he was older than the others though, he' hit harder's hit was harsher yet he move like an ancient creature' he replied, only because she was holding for dear life into those questions, forgetting everything else as usual. 'you don't sound convincing'
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any  remnants  of  feigned  nonchalance  disappears  from  his  admission,  as  a  blossoming  smile  creeps  upon  her  lips.  her  hands  delicately  find  his  once  again,  interlocking  their  fingers  in  a  tender  embrace,  mindful  of  his  injuries.  “good.”  though  what  is  good  to  their  hearts  means  the  opposite  to  their  families,  who  have  long  been  wary  of  the  improbable  pair  that  should  have  adhered  to  their  deep-seated  rivalry.  that  can  wait,  however.  right  now,  right  here,  elodie  allows  her  heart  to  cling  onto  the  flicker  of  hope.  “don’t  move.”  her  brows  knit  into  a  frown  again  when  he  scoots  over,  not  wanting  him  to  intensify  the  pain  he  already  has  to  endure.  she  feels  apologetic  over  posing  such  an  exhausting  question  on  him  when  he  is  still  in  such  a  battered  state,  but  there  is  already  an  ongoing  investigation  by  both  his  family  and  her  most  trusted  men  and  the  sooner  the  culprit  is  found,  the  better.  her  eyes  widen  when  he  mentions  a  man  with  a  limp,  her  mind  recalling  the  last  visit  to  her  father’s  estate  and  how  one  of  his  men  bore  a  similar  affliction,  how  taken  aback  the  man  was  to  be  met  with  her  inquisitive  gaze.  her  heart  sinks.  she  remembers  the  dreadful  altercation  she  had  with  her  father  the  week  before,  about  the  arranged  dates  gone  wrong  and  the  admonishment  for  her  purported  selfishness.  in  other  words,  how  she  should  reconcile  with  her  fate  of  being  a  marionette  with  a  million  strings,  manoeuvred  by  her  family’s  desires  instead  of  hers.  her  fingers  almost  untangle  themselves  from  soohyun’s,  afraid  that  he  will  sense  the  tremor  coursing  through  her.  but  she  refrains,  knowing  the  sudden  distance  will  only  raise  more  suspicion.  her  gaze  falls  to  their  entwined  hands  as  guilt  churns  within  her  core.  “what  else  do  you  remember  about  that  man  —  the  one  with  the  limp?”  she  asks,  her  tone  kept  as  calm  as  possible.  “around  what  age  do  you  think  he  is?  does  he  have  any  other  distinctive  features?”  amidst  her  inner  tumult,  his  inquiries  momentarily  escape  her  notice,  only  registering  seconds  later.  “hmm.”  she  nods  weakly,  unwilling  to  divulge  a  word  about  the  recent  fiasco  in  her  life  that  can  well  be  the  reason  behind  the  assault  that’s  left  him  in  his  current  state.  “i’ve  been  alright.”  
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chiwhorei · 4 years ago
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who prays for the headsman?
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paring: k. kyoutani x fem!reader
genre: angst, smut, 18+ minors dni
word count: 3.2k
warnings: size kink, crying, oral (f. receiving), major character death, pseudo-incest, stepcest, violence (not a gorey depiction), stabbing, a mention of blood, medieval beheading, angst okay this is sad you have been warned
a/n: Hello! HQHQ monthly collab time, sinners! I’m super excited to share this with you all, it was truly a work of love. All of the other amazing fantasy collab pieces can be found here!
hymns: murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - AURORA, the judge - twenty one pilots
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“The girl’s mother and I are to be wed with haste,” Kyoutani Kentarou’s father pats his small head, smoothing down the blond locks, “Be sure to make y/n feel comfortable. She isn’t your blood, but she’s your family now, son.”
From the moment his father brought you and your mother home, still wrapped in thick mourning veils and tears, his cross to bare was you.
You needed barely an introduction before melting into the comfort of Kentarou. Wrapping your small hands around his middle and burying your face against his neck. Your stiff black dress crinkles against him. The contact was a magnetic, instantaneous spell. Like moth meeting flame, and Kyoutani would burn for it until the next lifetime. The bubbling, itching hellfire marring his tanned skin for two decades.
It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces. Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute. There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.
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The virgin light of dawn rouses Kyoutani from a fitful night of sleep, he stretches his arm out to find your form and only catches the empty shell of blankets you’ve left behind. You’re always awake to greet the cresting rays of light as if they need your permission before ascending to greet the rest of the townspeople. You are the end and beginning of each day.
He finds you sat by the stone fireplace, nightdress hanging off of your shoulders and shawl wrapped tightly to keep the winter’s air at bay. You’ve always preferred the springtime. Even so, the smile that turns at the ends of your lips warms his body like the pouring of melted honey. He basks in you for a moment from afar, as close as he ever feels worthy of being.
“How did you sleep?” Your hand reaches out as he moves farther into the cottage’s main room, touching the warmth of his bare chest. Kyoutani pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple and folding your head against the crook of his neck. Your question goes unanswered, as you both already know: there’s never much rest gifted to the headsman.
A tall wisteria tree sits just outside of town. It’s branches are long and decaying. No flowers bloom on a tree the gods have forgotten. But that doesn't deter you from airy footsteps carrying you to it’s base.
“There’s nothing you can do, y/n,” Kyoutani presses, reaching his arms out to ensure you don’t fall, “there’s no fixing rotten roots.”
You scoff, bunching up your skirt at the ends and kneeling at the large trunk.
Where you bound forward without care, your Kentarou is always there to catch you. As you stoop down by the lifeless tree, his stern eyes narrow. You lay your hands against the rough bark, rubbing upwards and back down. All you need is the notion of life. Your eyes shut in concentration, fingers dancing along the coarse texture. It’s there, deep inside, waiting for you to tug at and rouse back to life. You can see it just behind your eyelids, purples and long flora hanging down, surrounding you in it’s beauty.
“H-how did you do that, y/n?” Kyoutani is cemented in shock behind you, where naked, ghoulish limbs once sat are now filled with swaying, violet life.
“I dunno, I get a tingling feeling in my hands. Here,” You pull him down to sit on the ground, pressing your palms to his cheeks. Your touch is like balm on a wound, he closes his eyes and leans in further. His forehead presses against your own. Your hands cradle the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over the soft skin in soothing patterns.
This is wrong, even as a boy no taller than prairie grass; he knows how wrong this feeling is.
“Do you feel it, Kenta?”
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Kyoutani’s job isn’t to decide a person's fate, but the blood still soaks his hands all the same. His walk home is always to the beat of heavy, warning footsteps. His figure is looming, shrouded in thick leather and chain medal. The faulted axe hangs by his side, gripped tightly and weighed down with the heavy smell of iron. He counts his sins every night, prays for absolution but still scrubs the blood of strangers off of his arms and wraps you up in them.
“You fucking bastard,” a strangers voice sounds behind Kyoutani like a siren. He hears the rustling of critics followed by the feeling of a stone thrown against his back.
“You murdered my brother. He was a good man and you killed him.” Kyoutani sighs deeply, he knows the blame will fall on him with every swing his blade makes, so any retort is swallowed. There’s never much reason to quabble, as word travels in a small town like water through a sieve.
“I know who you are, Kyoutani Kentarou. Your father was a good man, and your sweet little sister grew up to be quite the-” All reason shatters under Kyoutani’s boot in an instant, feet carrying him in his hecklers’ direction. His clenched fist meeting the man’s eye socket with deadly force, vision blurring and reason fleeting. He shouldn’t be handing out home brewed justice, but there’s no rationale exercised when your name passes through a strangers mouth.
Kyoutani is a strong man, but fighting three against one would be a losing battle no matter what. No matter how noble his intent is, a sharp knife to the stomach is impossible to ignore. The stranger twists the dagger, bringing his face to Kyouatani’s ear.
“Say hi to your dear ole’ dad for me, eh?”
He hears the man’s snide voice against the pounding in his head. He feels cold and far away, falling down a tunnel with no bottom.
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“They’ll be coming for you, y/n,” Your lover's voice lilts against your back, but you don’t turn to meet his eyes just yet. Your hands busy themselves against the familiar grooves of bark. The wisteria’s flowers create a sanctuary from the cruelty of the outside world. It’s a sanctuary, but this spot is one of original sin. The first brush of lips sealed fate years ago that will be actualized by daybreak.
“I know, Kenta-” Your soft voice usually calms the blonde man in front of you, but under the plague of circumstance, your words are sharp spikes against his heart.
“Why did you do it then? How could you be so careless? The mark of a witch means only one thing.” Kyoutani’s stern voice cuts you off, holding you in place, “You never think about the consequences of your reckless heart. Look at me, woman.” His body towers over you, broad chest against your back. His hand finds your jaw, pulling it harshly to force eye contact. Darkened brown eyes fall upon your watery ones and his angry facade shatters like pottery in the small space between your two bodies. You sniffle in his hold, fat tears run down your cheeks as you stutter a response.
“I couldn’t let you die, you’re the only family I have left. I- I love you, Kenta.” A sob rips through you, the declaration isn’t a new one, but it’s context is uniquely heartbreaking. Kyoutani pulls you into him immediately, wrapping strong, scarred arms around your shoulders. You cling to him, a piece of history repeating itself as it likes to do, wrapped in each other and the royal purples of wisteria.
Your lips quiver an inch away from his, stained with salty tears. Kyoutani feels the warmth of plush skin dangled in front of him, there’s an urgency rushing through him where he’s usually hesitant. There isn’t much more time. Without consulting the angel on his right shoulder, two large hands cup your face and pull your lips against his own.
Your cries are muffled by the sloppy pull of your own tongue into Kyoutani’s mouth. As his traces over yours with a chorus of nips and licks, his hands fall to your waist to bunch up the fabric against your hips. The action causes your body to press flush to his crotch.
“We have one more night together, Kenta. Please.” Your words don’t need much appraisal, you could ask Kyoutani to pull the skies down with his bare hands and he would tear the blankets off of any gods above without a second thought. One more night.
Kyoutani unwraps himself from around your form to sit down on the spongy grass below. The terrain is soft and forgiving despite its location in the dense forest. He watches you above him, angelically outlined in the soft moonlight. The personification of virtue and goodness glimmering off of you like an aura. The purest beauty to ever exist, and he’s at the helm of it’s destruction.
The sound of your dress pooling at your feet pulls him from mulling over his past transgressions. His eyes follow a line up from said garment to where your bare cunt is nestled between hip bones. His gaze climbs farther, lacerating the memory of every dip and curve so they scar against his heart. He needs to remember everything.
You join him on the soft grass, knees swung on either side of his large thighs. His hands find your hips again, pressing into the flesh as you begin to rock lightly against him. Your movement is disastrous to his resolve, the tension in his body delivers harsh oval bruises against the skin of your ass.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Your confessions are accented by kisses against Kyoutani’s cheeks and lips. Your soul, your heart, your everything are each other’s; and tonight is the final assemblage.
Kyoutani’s touch is like scarlet fever against your body, burning in its journey to grope any flesh he could reach. His fingers have to cement this feeling into his fingerprints, after tonight only the phantom pains of you will remain.
“You feel so good Kenta. S-So right.” Your mewls rattle around against his skull, as one palm comes down to meet your heated pussy. The most morally abject sin he’s committed- even counting the heads that roll by his feat every day- is you. But still; he can’t argue the morality of your body writhing naked above him when his cock is already straining angrily against the leather of his pants. His fingers trace down from the hip bone to where your puffy lips sit. It’s amazing how sweet, how soft you are. Where Kyoutani is calloused and harsh, you are smooth and silken. Perfection. Depravity.
As one thick finger proads against your hole, your hips buck with new resolve. You crave more than just fleeting touches and stolen glances. You want him to let go completely, something he’s only done a handful of times. You need him to.
“I’m not made of ceramic Kyoutani. You treat me like a child, but I’m stronger than you seem to believe.” You use your family name for punctuation, but the sentence comes out melted on the edges when he sticks another digit in to join the first.
“Don’t you think I know that, y/n. Fuck. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” a resounding slap meets your ass, jolting you farther against his fingers, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t protect you. That’s my job, damnit.” His thumb finds your swollen clit with ease even within his flustered state and presses down, “I failed you.”
You don’t trust your own voice to answer, you know nothing you could say would ease his heart. All you can do is push forward in hopes that one night can make up for the life he’ll have to live without you. Your hands move down to loosen his suffocating pants, wobbly knees digging against the ground as he eases the leather down his legs.
Your hand grabs a hold of his hard cock, stroking from his thick base to reddened tip. The touch is familiar. Something that wracks him with guilt but fills his soul with warmth. It’s always been your touch. Similar to the sparks rendered from striking flint, your touch lights up his every nerve
Kentarou’s fingers move back to work you open for him, your head falls back, causing the fat of your tits to bounce against his chest. His other rough hand comes up to palm your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple and pulling down. You cry out in pleasure at the attention, senses overwhelmed by your lover’s ministrations.
“Please, please do something.” Your voice is desperate against the shell of his ear, pleading for more. More of Kentarou, and naively, for more time.
With a swift, practiced movement, the blonde moves you to lay against the grass. He removes the blood-stained shirt from his chest and kicks off his pants. His body eclipses yours, shielding you from view. You’re surrounded by him, the heady scent of sweat, the sound of the racing heart against his ribcage like a trapped songbird. It’s all Kyoutani, it always has been; your home, your confessional, the safest reprieve and your most vile secret.
Kyoutani’s cock is freed from its confines to slap deftly against his stomach. Your mouth tries to swallow as if filled with dried tea leaves, his size isn’t always the most accommodating. Even so, you lift up on one elbow to curl your fingers around his shaft and groan once again when your pointer finger and thumb don’t meet. Kyoutani opens his mouth to speak but you answer before the words fall.
“Don’t be gentle, Kentarou, ” your dwarfed hand tugs him towards you, creating a dizzying pressure, “I can take it.”
There’s no room for argument in your words, so he dips down to kiss your lips once again. “Let me taste you, y/n. Just one more time.” His eyes hold flames but regard you as softly as possible. You nod in agreement. His lips running down from your neck to your hips, you feel the chapped skin against your own. With each peck, a path of tears follow in tandem. His shaky cries are hidden behind the moans being pulled from your lungs. You don’t acknowledge it, for doing so would just make the wracking pain even worse.
There’s no use speaking of your combined suffering, it’s already dug it’s blade into Kyoutani’s vertebrae.
Once his mouth reaches your wet pussy, there’s nothing left of his conscious. Where guilt usually lies, madness replaces. The first swipe of his tongue is painfully slow, he has to savor this taste, your taste. Your soft, swollen lips are the gods’ manna and he’s been given one last chance to indulge. Kyoutani’s tongue finds your clit and flicks upward, just the way that’s always made you squeal. You’re coating his chin in slick, and nothing else will ever quench his thirst like this again. He could stay in between your legs for the next century, but rips himself away from your dripping cunt.
Your mouth is captured in his again, tongue and cheeks coated in your own arousal. The feeling distracting you from the reddened tip prodding at your tight hole. You suck in a sharp breath as you’re worked open. Every vein and ridge tugs against your snug walls. It hurts, it always does, but there’s nothing that’s ever felt better either. You bite his collarbone in a feeble attempt to keep quiet, nails cresting small shapes against his back as he slides farther and farther in.
“My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” Kyoutani’s hips meet your ass, giving you a moment to acclimate. You’re pulled taut around him, cock dragging against you as he pulls back. He remembers your previous words. I can take it.
His hips slam against you with ferocity. Every expanse of fat on you bounces. Thighs, tits, ass- all moving with the pace he sets. His cock is begging for release with every union of his tip to your cervix. A litany of cries and pleas fill the surrounding air, lilting around to bounce against the drooping flowers.
“Please Kenta, I’m- I’m going to.” Your sentence breaks off at the end but he puts them back together. He coos you, “I know, little one. Let go for me.” He presses two fingers against your clit once more to rub tight circles.
Your toes curl against the grass below you, body locking up as the blood running through your veins is replaced with gooey syrup. Years of tension and shame pull tightly against your body and snap in an instant.
Kyoutani can’t hold off his own orgasm any longer, not with the vice grip you have on him.
Not with the sound of the constable's horses drawing closer to the old wisteria tree.
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It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces.
Kyoutani’s blade is sharpened meticulously. “A dull axe is worlds more painful.” Even as his heart is being torn from under his breast bone, webs of muscle and tendon snapping like sewing floss the closer he walks to your kneeling form, he remembers his father’s words.
The ringing in his ear drowns out the sound of your sentence being passed, it’s better he doesn't hear the official crimes you are posed with, lest he swings his weapon against the priest instead. He wants to reach out, to untie you and run away, to find a new world. A world where he hears the pattering of little footsteps and sees chubby hands clinging against your apron. A world where he wakes up to your wrinkled cheeks and graying hair.
Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute.
There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.
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The wisteria tree is the beginning and end. Long, purple flowers sealing fate. Kyoutani pulls reluctant feet to the tree's base, his forehead pressing against the bark. He turns around and slides down to sit against the trunk. His hands roam against the texture of the grass beneath him. He remembers the spindly branches and decaying wood from years ago when he closes his eyes, he remembers your hands clawing back it’s life from the lowest level of hell.
When his eyes open again, they are met with yours. Soft, beautiful, and achingly familiar. You smile, lips turning upwards and teeth peaking out slightly. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, a dull crackle of warmth reaches his skin where forest fires use to smolder. It’s not the same, but it’s you. He knows it’s you somehow. Whether it be a cruel trick from the gods or his brain succumbing to madness. It’s still you. Your warmth is surrounding him again, and it feels almost right.
“Do you feel it, Kenta?” Your voice is warped and echoes like a hollow drum, he can’t help the tears falling in thick streams. It’s you. He reaches out to touch you, but his hands remain empty and cold. You disappear in a second, your face vanishing from where he swore he could almost feel your lips against his own.
You leave him once again and take the bright flowers of wisteria with you.
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all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️
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rosysugarr · 3 years ago
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Rosy's story, part one: Monahven
Alright, so I've been wanting to do this for a while, but I keep putting it off. Because I'm lazy. But NO MORE. Here is an official summary/rundown of my character Rosy's past lore and backstory! (You'll be able to find all the parts of it as they're released on the tag #rosylore!)
Rosy is, for those who don't know, a moth who I played on the lore-based origins server the ratsSMP! I played them there for several months before leaving, but I fully intend to continue their story from where I left off on my own server-- just in a new, separate world. (And how that works will be explained once we get the lore rolling on the new SMP!)
This is just a quick, condensed version of the story; it's meant to be a catch-up for anyone curious about my past Minecraft RP activities, and what Rosy got up to before the new SMP's premier! I would simply share my old VODs, but, unfortunately, almost all of them have been lost due to me not realizing just how briefly twitch holds onto VODs when you aren't an affiliate/partner. So, instead of sharing those, I'm simply going to tell the story like this!
Also, I will be posting this story in parts, as it's... pretty long if I go into any amount of detail. This will cover part one-- the first few major lore streams, Rosy's arrival up through the first major conflict they experienced.
Enjoy! If you have any questions or comments, feel free to message me! (And if you'd like to illustrate any events in the story, or do any kind of art featuring Rosy at all, please let me know, I'd love to see it!)
Due to my never having done minecraft RP before, I wanted to start off with a character who is a clean slate, so that they learned about the world and adjusted to things as I did. Rosy is a combination of my fursona's design, and the basic parts of the personality of another OC of mine, Regina-- specifically, her innocence and gentle nature were "borrowed" for Rosy.
All that to say, Rosy's backstory is pretty simple-- they hatched out in a flower field biome, and then grew up there as a caterpillar, hanging out with the other baby bugs and eating leaves. Once they reached maturity, emerged from their cocoon with their shiny new wings, they took off to explore the world and meet new people. They wanted to find where they belonged in the world!
They landed in a country called Monahven. There, they immediately befriended a phantom who went by the name Butter, and then the king of Monahven himself, a starborne man named Joey.
Little did Rosy know, befriending both of them would be a pretty bad mistake, given the two men were actually in the middle of a conflict Rosy didn't begin to understand.
See, Butter was the leader of a cult that worshipped a trio of gods; which would have been fine, except that he opposed Joey's reign and was conspiring with Lewis, a man who had been exiled before Rosy's arrival, to take over Monahven and remove Joey from power. Joey, of course, was not a fan of that idea, and had no idea that Rosy was involved with the cult... until one day, he decided to down a potion of invisibility and follow Rosy as they made their way out of their home, intending to prank them.
... what ended up happening instead is that he followed Rosy to the cult's temple, where he overheard a meeting between them and Butter. As it turned out, on that day, Rosy passed a verbal test, and was promoted to the cult's second in command; which meant that they would be given secret information that no one else in the cult knew. The information he revealed was that they were intending to take Joey out of power by force. Rosy-- gentle, skittish, and loyal as they were-- didn't want that to happen to her friend, but... they thought maybe, if they agreed to participate, they could do something to protect their dear friends from hurting each other, or anyone else. So they agreed to help, fully planning to do anything they could to stop it from actually happening, or at least from being quite so violent.
Rosy returned home only for their friend and fellow, younger moth, Wyn, to catch them on the way into their peony-shaped house, giving them a note that Joey had sent; it simply read to meet Joey in his tower, and that it was urgent.
Rosy went to Joey's tower, deeply afraid of what he would say and not understanding what was going on; when they arrived, Joey sat in his throne, and he stood to face them, pacing as he spoke. He told them that this was his least favorite part of the job; that he didn't want to have to confront them, or see them in his tower under these kinds of circumstances, but...
Wordlessly, he tossed a potion of invisibility onto the floor in front of Rosy.
"I was there," he said, and Rosy was shocked into a stammering near-silence.
Joey informed them that he'd heard it all-- the plan to overthrow him, Rosy agreeing to participate, and he was hurt and disappointed. But, he said, he wouldn't punish them, as he knew that they were innocent-- they were naive and nervous and easily-lead, and didn't understand the conflict they'd walked in on. The only things he asked of Rosy in return for his mercy were that, if they were ever called on to fight him, they wouldn't respond; and that, if they became privy to important information about the cult's activities, they would report the information to him.
And so, in exchange for the king's mercy, Rosy became a double agent on his behalf. And it made them absolutely miserable.
They felt guilt-- immense amounts of guilt, hating to betray their dear friend, their very first friend since they'd left home, Butter. Yet if they refused, or withheld information, they would be betraying their other dearest friend, Joey... and not only that, but they would be betraying the king of the nation in which they lived, a man easily powerful enough to make them good and afraid of him despite their friendship.
However, Joey had done one thing that still kept Rosy's trust in him, despite their fear of his power; when Rosy voiced their fears of what the cult would do if they learned they'd been betrayed, Joey promised them the full protection of both himself and Monhaven as a whole. He would personally protect them from anyone who would do them harm, and use his power as the king to protect them even when he couldn't personally be present to do so.
Guilty and conflicted, Rosy left the tower, fretting to themselves about their new role and just how scary everything was suddenly becoming, but determined to do whatever they could to help their friends.
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phantombs · 3 years ago
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🖤
Cường, spotting them in the distance, sees them for the first time. Send 🖤 for his thoughts: No longer accepting.
Cường toils. His sores tear. He works, balm wafting fragrant with its drops of winter oil, and it nips and cools and crawls beneath his skin. How terrible. What a frankensteined patchwork of half-healing blisters. He’s a cut that’s weeping and a gash that seeps.
And a cold salve, the world reminds him, isn’t meant for open wounds like you, are they? But consider a fire. I can wick you one gentle. We can make it all sweet, a tender cauterizing.
And healing, too, of course, because that’s the point, isn’t it?
Cường's hands slow. Yes, he admits. His fingers curl achingly. I imagine it is. 
His gaze drifts, curious. Incense, suffusing about his too cramped aisles, perfumes his porcelain in a smell like temple. It’s intoxicating. Enchanting, too, surely, but marred with something so unbiddenly bitter – and, dear god, even sour. A phantom laughs. Or human, don’t you think, like cauterized skin? Muscle? Corpse? Cường...! Cường moves. A gust takes the windchimes, rattling like kindling. He looks out the window, and there! – the ghost seethes, words hissed as embers from coal – in a shade so blue you’re imagining rivers.
Cường blinks, veiled in the twinkle of the stars. And you like rivers. Love them! Want to take a plunge, then, ghost boy? Would you go out and dare it?
No. I really shouldn’t, I don’t think. 
The stranger looks. They stand across the street, lights flickering with moths above their heads, and their gaze sits heady and crushing in the dark.
No, because you’re no river at all. No ocean. You’re chemical. You’re burning. They’re butane, a caustic little drip eating at his skin and worming at his nerves. 
But Cường doesn’t burn. How doesn’t he? He lowers his spoon, tin still only half-way filled, and he moves, toddles over, passing the large window with its boxes of lavender. They watch him all the while. Their stares never abate, tethered and inexplicably, irrevocably twined, their eyes like sapphire and his earth-deep.
You... “You’re a swallowing man, I’ve decided,” Cường whispers. Smothering. I can feel you in my skin -- under it, too, nipping with the intent to gnaw my bones. Why?
They don’t know. Neither do. They watch, streetlights in the furl of their lashes, calm and motionless in the autumn midnight.
Swallowing. Burning, Wicking. Cường grabs to the doorframe, shirt blowing, sticking to the welts beneath his shirt. “Looking to burn in me an impression? Work harder. I make those things that help them feel more bearable, you know.”
He reaches out, gesturing with his hand. Come here. Heat’s healing, the ghost taunts.
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kneipho · 4 years ago
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Submitted by: @mantrabay​​
Rush Amid The Rapids.
Rush Amid The Rapids.
“Must I always be posting transactions?” I said to myself, Landon Croaker, accountant, adjusting my backpack as I rambled up a ragged winding woodland path.
A granite strewn gulag odyssey lay ahead.
There was the usual green stew of ornate plants.
Ancient Fir Clubmoss which grows into a chalice- like shape.
The St Patrick’s cabbage, with thick leather zig zag veins.
Hapless Fraochan and Whortleberry shrub’s pendant fruit so symmetrical.
I brought my notebook with me.
Closet novelist or bard one day?
Canopy of lattice branch springboards abound.
Shrieks
from stunned squirrels leaping in the arc of a trapeze with blue jay alarm signal.
Rustle of rabbits under slender stalks.
Puffball cloud and brown-dust spore floaters.
A wastrel I was within the wilds.
I was getting close to where my friends, a husband and wife team lived and ran a fringe publishing company.
They resided in a cherry wood log cabin with tongue and groove cladding and a pine timbered roof lantern peering down a mountain side.
Like a watchtower the mountain sat in sinister observance.
A fallow deer suddenly appeared.
It looked furtively with startled eyes as if it knew something I didn’t.
Within minutes it vanished.
Flies swarmed about, the spooky whistleblowers on this solitary hiker’s grazed cheeks.
My clothes were wringing wet from the sweltering heat.
The curious urban spirit drove me on.
Chambered cairns, those passage tunnels from the past that act as stone markers for the venturer were rife.
Platform mounds whose ribboned cracks and gouges play host to strongly rooted Chasmophytes.
There was a lurking presence as the cabin became visible.
“Hello, there. Fancy seeing you here.
Welcome back.”
Chelsea, in a croaking baby twang.
“Oh …you frightened me.” Landon said.
I nearly toppled.
Chelsea dashed towards me.
“A bit worried there, Landon.
What a surprise!
We like surprising people too.”
I paused and replied.
“It’s the unexpected that adds spice to this life business and others!”
Landon sardonically.
“You sound tired.”
Chelsea replied.
“We’ll change that. We’ll change everything about your life now you’re here.”
The ramifications of that would soon unfold.
“The last time I was here we talked about having children.
Any decision yet?
You could always adopt.”
I continued.
“Don’t have to.
Got my husband and he’s got me.” She said.
“We’re both kids at heart.”
Her sad voice trailing off.
“This location seems ideal but there’s schooling and everything.”
Chelsea hesitantly.
“Nothing that couldn’t be resolved.”
Landon in reply.
Croaker sensed Chelsea’s unease and didn’t continue.
“Hey, what’s this?” Croaker cried as two apples landed at his feet.
“Yahoo. You two.”
Chesney, Chelsea’s husband shouted.
“It’s been so long.
Doesn’t time fly?”
Chesney again.
While walking it dawned on Landon how dewy-eyed and child-like this couple were.
.
Entering the cabin seemed like something from a storybook.
Cartoon mosaics attached to fool’s gold borders, zip purse smashed purple bead inserts, and shredded comic strips.
“There are shrouds of deep mystery here.”
Croaker thought.
“Hey Snap.
What’s accountancy like these days?”
Chesney’s smug question.
“Nothing really changes.
Investment investment hazards and the like.
It’s a world I drifted into.
How about your company in paradise.”
Croaker sarcastically.
“Publishing is odd.
You almost become the stories submitted.”
Chesney observed.
“Birth and regrowth are gaining interest.
Am I boring you?” Chesney enquired.
“Well, it beats accountancy.”
Landon tactfully.
A salad of roasted lemon, fennel fronds and pomegranate was served with
guacamole dip based on chunky avocado.
After our meal we washed up
Chelsea’s phantom figure scurried outside with Olympic speed.
It was so redolent of the suddenness about.
A rapt cocoon descended around Chesney and Landon’s interaction.
Landon quizzed Chesney about the urban country rift.
Tranquil timberlands have their own stressors.
“See those creatures slumped awkwardly on fragile twigs?
They sense pending doom.”
Chesney observed.
“Can you really escape hectic city life?”
A querulous tone from Chesney.
“Maybe these divisions are fictional.”
Landon archly.
“Thud. What’s that?”
Chesney shaking.
Chelsea entered.
“Oh dear .. let’s say a homing pigeon.
They’re a strange breed.”
She said smugly.
“Very strange indeed.”
Chesney out loud.
Chelsea and Chesney exchange strained silent glances.
A circus of the wilds continued outside as species vied with species in an ego fanfare.
Chirping robin red breasts,
wing scraping crickets in high chorus.
Vulcan steam curtain as backdrop.
Horseshoe Bats that weave rainbow shafts.
Daddy long legs with their cancan dances on sodden patches.
“Excuse me …..ring a bell?” Chesney diverting Landon’s attention with a broken fragment.
Landon bought this autumn crocus crystal vase on a previous sojourn.
It slipped from his hands in a butter fingers incident.
Croaker uttered the words “my lasting gift” as it fell.
Cackles erupted but frustration for Landon.
“A hilarious keepsake after a fashion.”
Chelsea opined.
“Really?”
Said Landon embarrassed by this anecdote.
The hours passed and they were both tired.
Landon saw Chesney remove a letter from a ring pull drawer.
“Just an old bill. Must shred it.” He said.
“Why would Chesney explain that?
His face reddened.
Curious.” Landon thought.
Shuffling to bed Landon did notice
pink salmon eiderdowns, pillows with children sleeping under moonlit skies, and Milky Way throw blankets.
The night passed uneventfully.
There were some noises in the kitchen as morning approached.
Having woken sluggishly Croaker walked into the dinning area.
A sense of foreboding filled the room.
Landon grappled awkwardly with claustrophobia.
It was disrupted by the chatter of the chestnut -sided warbler.
An oak hook tip moth added charm with its zoom and flutter acrobatics.
“I’ve the creepiest feeling.”
Croaker reasoned.
“BUZZZ ……..Buzzzzz ……Boing.”
My old cell-phone’s text tone.
My boss. Wonder what he wants?”
Landon to himself.
“Dear Landon,
When you return I would like to speak to you about your future with this company.
I can’t go into further details
as it involves a lot of interested parties.
A wide -ranging discussion is in order,
Regards,
Tom Wright
Managing Director.”
Landon’s worst fears now confirmed.
“I’m confused.
Just how pressing is this or …. what is this in front of me?”
A letter from Chesney and Chelsea.
“Hi Landon,
We had to leave quickly.
Help yourself to whatever largesse there is.
Don’t know how long we’ll be.
You can hang around of course or leave.
Don’t break anything!!
Ha ha,
Ches and Chels.”
Incredible! Between the text and the letter who wouldn’t be alarmed?
Landon limped outside to an ear splitting din and a mist laden detritus that merged into pockets of streams steeplechasing each other.
A slimy frog vaulted and cast a damp viscous oil spray in Croaker’s direction.
Something ….a shadow.
“This has been the most peculiar visit I’ve ever had.
Intrigue seems encoded in it.”
Croaker’s anxiety growing.
A tap on the shoulder followed by a crystal shard at his feet.
“The vase remember?
Don’t be so serious ……..we’ve something to discuss with you.”
Chesney said pointedly.
“An Agatha Christie mystery novel has nothing on this.”
Landon fretted.
“We’ve been reflecting, Chelsea and I.
Your presence is an extraordinary coincidence.”
Chesney quizzically.
“We’d like to offer you a job as our accountant.”
Chelsea suggested.
Croaker now shivering.
“You know by now we love to jumpstart even our closest friends.
This post is tailor made for you.”
Chelsea once more.
“Your boss will understand.”
Croaker’s head was now in a spin.
“You like writing don’t you?
There’s plenty of stories here.”
Chelsea opined.
“All this trouble to offer me a job?” Croaker queried.
“We don’t do things by halves.”
Chelsea with Chesney nodding.
A carousel of thoughts flashed through Landon’s mind at this juncture.
He walked in a trance struggling with everything.
“What was in Chelsea’s sports bag I wonder?” Thought Croaker.
“Let’s go for a swim, Landon.
I’ve got swim trunks for us all.”
Chelsea tossed a nylon mesh swim trunks at Landon as everyone changed.
Something slipped out of Chesney’s pocket without him noticing.
It was that letter Chesney removed previously and read as follows.
“Dear Chesney and Chelsea,
As your doctor I regret you won’t be able to have children. It’s with a heavy heart I share this with you.
There are many reasons for this…”
The rest of the letter was creased and illegible.
It was subsequently swept to the river’s edge underneath a Crested Iris by a slight breeze.
Meanwhile, we were all breast stroking energetically while taking the occasional breather.
“You can make up your mind, Landon, at the end of this swim whenever that is and wherever it is taking us.”
Chelsea giggled as she circulated in the eddying stream.
We all started off again as we followed each other’s course.
“Awh, the child within!” Cried Chelsea.
As Landon pondered his fate the mountain looked down imperiously upon us all as the stray deer suddenly reappeared from nowhere.
Maybe that deer did know something after all!
Photograph and short story mantrabay copyright protected.
Many thanks for reading this and other submissions.
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the-reaper-of-maidens · 4 years ago
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Shadow Walk
Coming in FAST with that quality Lady Di x OC ONCE AGAIN~ The Reaper’s dark magic abilities are slowly starting to take shape, and it’s up to Alcina to teach her the ropes. I hope I explained how this ability works well enough... And yes, more soft Alcina ksksksk TW: abuse mention
Some headcanons: the daughters have different abilities, but that might change when the game comes out and we find out more. c: I’m also gonna assume dark magic is a thing in this game, since Daniela can do spooky dark magic stuff in the demo.
Viorica is the oldest daughter, and Aurelia is the youngest. Pointless, since they’re only mentioned in this story, but... still!
“Now, with any new ability, you have to practice it and hone it, my dear Reaper,” Alcina swirled a wine glass, finishing off the last of it. “Once you get this down, shadow walking is a powerful skill.”
“Makes sense, I wasn’t an all star tennis player after one day,” the Reaper finished off her own drink, a HarSha black tea with honey and blood. She rolled her shoulders back and tossed her leather jacket to the side to make things easier.
“How did it feel, the first time you walked into the shadows?” the castle’s mistress asked as she set her wine glass down, trying to pinpoint the issues to help her hound dog improve.
“Crushing, like I turned flat as paper and it was hard to breathe, so I panicked and clawed my way out,” the Reaper explained, shuddering at the memory.
“Not surprised, the first time in the shadow realm is always… terrifying. It’s exactly why I cleared out my entire day: to teach you how to better utilize shadow walking. The very first step is to relax. Loosen up. Take a breath before you step into the shadows and breathe in and out… in and out slowly and evenly,” Alcina advised. “The second step is do not be afraid. Don’t let the dark and fear get to you, my pet, because that’s a fast ticket to stay stuck in the shadow realm.”
“So… just relax and don’t get scared. Sounds easy enough.”
“But do not underestimate its difficulty. It’s far easier said than done, O Reaper Mine,” the lady of the castle strongly warned. “It’s far more dangerous shadow walking unprepared than it is to astral project prepared.”
“Typical dark magic stuff, everything has a risk when it comes to that,” and with that, the Reaper took a few breaths to psych herself up, slowly stepping into a nice little corner rife with darkness by the throne. She normally hid away in this spot, anyways, in case Alcina wanted her at the ready to dispose of someone who was being a bother.
“Just focus on entering and exiting for now, Reaper. Don’t let the branching paths within the shadow realm distract you,” the mutant vampiress nodded, watching her little hunter ease into things. “Hmm,” she poured herself another glass of wine as she watched. For now, she didn’t feel the need to take a stroll in the shadow realm with her, as the Reaper needed to get used to being alone in the shadow realm first.
“Okay, don’t get distracted…” the Reaper repeated to herself as she went in. The shadow realm was, as Alcina said, terrifying the first time. The shadow realm was full of a person’s darkest fears and most painful memories, which was why the gargantuan woman stressed the importance of keeping calm. “...Don’t…” she swallowed nervously as she saw the eerie specters of her birth family in the voidscape, all eyes on her as if casting judgment on her, “get distracted…” She remembered her mistress’s words and decided to dip out before the shadows would try to drag her in. She stepped back out into the mortal world, slashing her way out as she panted heavily, shaking off the dark tendrils that still clung onto her arms.
“Breathe, Reaper,” the vampiress reminded her hound dog, watching her take a breather as she sat down against a wall. Alcina stood up to give the Reaper some encouraging words. “Don’t be surprised if you fail many times. I have experienced it many times myself when I was learning,” she knelt down to her hunter’s level.
“...You? Failure?” the Reaper was surprised, to say the least. To her, Alcina Dimitrescu, the lady of the castle, was the epitome of grace and perfection. How could she have possibly failed at anything?
“Mother Miranda taught me all I needed to know when my own abilities started manifesting. If it makes you feel any better… I saw slayers in the void, doing unspeakable acts on the servants of the castle. My fears actually became even worse when my daughters went under my protection,” Alcina admitted. “It’s horrific, is it not, to see your constant fears being personified in the shadows? That paralyzing grip… you can’t let your fears win, Reaper. If you do, they’ll drag you away, never to be seen again. It’s a fate worse than death, my dear.”
“Wow… I didn’t think you feared anything,” the Reaper admitted. “...Makes my own feel stupid. I saw my birth family, judging me. I was scared because I saw Pop again… I was scared he’d try to hit me. I was scared Ma would try to manipulate me to go back home. And my little bro? Tch. Less said, the better.”
“Shhh, your pain isn’t lesser than mine just because you think it is. Slayers are a rare occurrence. You went through torture every day. Those are not the same, Reaper. Even my own childhood pains can’t be compared to yours.”
The Reaper reached out for Alcina’s hand and gently squeezed it, nodding a bit. “I know… it’s just hard for me to realize that. Just… gimme a minute and I’ll be ready to face my trauma and fears again, Lady Alcina.” She liked it when Alcina was soft, it was a rather rare side of the mistress only she, besides the sisters, got to see.
“Of course. It’s never easy the first few times. I don’t expect you to suddenly get over years of abuse the second time you enter the shadow realm,” the lady of the castle was understanding, or more lenient than she would usually be, at least.
The Reaper took a few breaths, trying to compose herself in a few minutes. “I’m kinda curious… do your daughters have similar abilities?”
“Not quite. Past their strength and speed, it seems like they have different powers. Aurelia, for example, doesn’t swarm into moths like Daniela can. She can shapeshift, though. Viorica is excellent at using magic compared to the other two, so she much prefers hands-off fighting,” Alcina explained.
Soon enough, the Reaper was ready for another round. “I got this. Those specters won’t get to me…” she relaxed as she went into the shadows again. Naturally, she was still a bit tense seeing those laughing phantoms, but she stood tall (well, as tall as could be for 4’9”). She turned tail only once the one depicting her father stepped forward, fist raised. “Sorry… it’s Pop. He’s the big hangup, it seems,” the Reaper sighed.
“You did say he gave you some of your scars… I’m not surprised. We’ll take it one day at a time, Reaper,” Alcina nodded. “Once you get past your little hurdle and get used to being alone in there, I will join you in the shadow realm to show you how to navigate. It can be… difficult, due to how fluid shadows can be.”
“I think I get what you mean, it all depends on the angle of light, and that can drastically change the shadow it casts.”
“...Exactly, my dear. It’s another reason traversing the shadow realm is more dangerous than the astral plane. Unless you have furniture that you never move, your starting point might not even be there when you get back, so you can’t rely on that. Just be ready to end up in a different spot in the castle when we do that,” Alcina gave her hunter a heads up.
For now, though, the Reaper needn’t worry. She just focused on getting used to the horrors of the voidscape, bit by bit every day. “Okay, I think I’m mostly okay now, Lady Alcina. Realizing that they’re only phantoms helped me out a lot… they can’t hurt me,” she confided after months of simple practice, just shifting between mortal plane and shadow realm.
“Good,” Alcina nodded in approval. “That will be your armor, my Reaper.”
“We just need a big enough shadow for you to walk into, but luckily… we got one right here, if you don’t mind bending down a bit,” the Reaper smacked the wall nearest to her. It was evening, so the sun cast some decent shadows on some of the objects. The petite hunter learned during her training that she needed a shadow big enough to enter (if she couldn’t get into it crawling, it was too small, she found), that she couldn’t go into shadows with many holes, and that she obviously couldn’t go into her own shadow.
“I wonder where we’ll end up tonight,” Alcina giggled charmingly as she took off her hat and set it down somewhere, which sent shivers down the Reaper’s spine.
Oooh, maybe it’ll be our room, the Reaper was flushed behind her bandana as she followed the countess into the shadow realm. Of course, with Alcina by her side, she wasn’t scared of these shadowy wisps tormenting her for who she loved, and with her at Alcina’s… the countess was reassured that slayers wouldn’t dare enter Castle Dimitrescu.
“Eyes up, my pet, the branching paths have subtle cues to clue you in where they lead you to. Blink and you’ll miss it,” Alcina patted her hunter’s head. She squinted, noting a vague blob resembling a table. “I believe… this one leads to the dining hall,” she led the Reaper through the twists and turns, and out they came, stepping out from next to a cabinet. “It can be dreadfully difficult to ascertain where the path will lead,” the mutant sighed. “I’m glad we didn’t pop up from underneath the table this time.”
“...It’s happened before?”
“...I don’t want to talk about it,” Alcina pursed her lips in embarrassment at that memory. Hell, even to this day, it still happened on occasion. “Now, let’s keep going in your training, my darling hunter. Just follow my lead, and you might get rewarded nicely~”
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someordinaryselfshipper · 5 years ago
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Just a kiss (Phantom x reader)
A/N: This is a one shot for @ezuriel-moth-rps 200 follows contest. I hope y’all like it!
Summary: Reader wants to kiss Phantom, but is too nervous to ask.
Word count: 643
You and Phantom had been dating for a few weeks now. He has been nothing but a gentleman to you. Each date you’ve gone on has been nothing short of amazing. He always picks you up, brings you to some fancy dinner or event, and then brings you home. But there’s one thing that has been on your mind lately.
You two haven’t kissed yet. He always kisses the back of your hand at the end of your dates, and one time you were brave enough to kiss him on the cheek. But other than that, you two haven’t kissed.
You wanted to, but every time you tried to ask him, you would always chicken out. Your anxiety always getting the better of you. But tonight, you plan to change that. No matter the thoughts that go through your head, you were going to ask him!
Before you know it, you’re on another date with Phantom. His club is holding a special event tonight. You’re not a fan of crowds, but Phantom convinced you to go and dance the night away with him. How could you say no to him?
“You look lovely tonight doll,” He whispers into your ear as you two slow dance. You smile at him. Now is your chance. You open your mouth to speak, but...no words come out. Instead, your mouth goes dry and your thoughts start screaming at you.
What if he doesn’t want to kiss you? What if he does and he hates it? What if he’ll break up with you? All these questions and more fill your mind.
Phantom takes note, seeing how uncomfortable you look. He stops dancing and gently takes hold of your shoulders. “Is the crowd too much dear? Would you like to rest in my office?” He asks. You nod your head and he leads you two to his office.
He closes the door behind you before hugging you. “You okay doll?” He asks. You nod in response. “It’s just...I really want to ask you something. But, I’m so nervous too.” You say. “Oh baby doll…” he gently caresses your hair, “No matter what you ask, I could never be mad at you. Do you wanna go home?” He asks.
“N-No!” You say, “I’m having a great time, but…” Your thoughts start taking over again. Yelling at you not to tell him. How everything you’ve been through will go down the drain. He’ll leave you in an instant. But...It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?
“Phantom can I kiss you please?” You finally manage to blurt out. Phantom looks at you with bewilderment on his face. You start to worry that you’ve messed up. Your thoughts telling you that he’s now going to leave you, and it’s all your fault. You’re about to apologize. And then...a smirk slowly forms on his face. He gently places a finger under your chin and lifts your head so you’re looking at him. All of your thoughts seize as he starts leaning into you slowly.
“All you had to do was ask, baby doll.” Is what he whispers before connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, as if to say ‘you have nothing to be afraid about’. He pulls away a few seconds later. Both of you are smiling messes.
“I was so scared to ask you to do that…” you admit to him. He lets out a breathy chuckle as he strokes his thumb against your cheek. “You never have to be scared with me darling. If you ever want to kiss me again, I will never deny it.” He smiles.
“Can we...Can we kiss again please?” You ask. He lets out another chuckle as he leans in. “You don’t have to ask baby doll,” he says, mere centimeters away from your lips “It’ll always be a pleasure~”
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kittinoir · 4 years ago
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Phantoms Ch. 6
“Ladybug said I was awesome.” Not entirely true, but Queen Bee never could stand silence. “She said that I’d made huge improvements.”
Koira didn’t even glance her way. “And?”
“And?” Queen Bee repeated as they arced around the Eiffel Tower. “And a compliment to me is a compliment to you. I thought you’d like to know.”
“Compliments from Ladybug are meaningless” Koira said as they began the second half of their patrol. 
Outrage boiled up in Queen Bee, for once on behalf of someone else. “Are you seriously saying you think you’re better than her?”
“I’m saying she thinks too much,” Koira said, coming to an abrupt stop on a slanted roof. “I’m saying this whole mess could have been avoided if she’d just asked for help. I’m saying Ladybug doesn’t like me, I don’t like her, and it’s fine. And I’m saying if you worried less about what Ladybug thought of you and more about what you wanted, you’d be even better.”
There was so much to unpack there, Queen Bee didn’t even know where to start. “What mess are you talking about?” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. There could only be one mess he could mean. She’d stupidly thought he of all people would never hold it against her. She’d thought they were the same.
But Koira just laughed, a bitter sound without any real humour. “There’d be no point in telling you.”
Queen Bee stomped her foot in frustration. “Why? You think I’m so enamoured with Ladybug I’ll just take her side? Or am I too stupid to understand?”
Finally, finally, Koira met her eyes. The usual disdain had vanished. In its place was…pity?
“You won’t be able to hold onto it,” he finally said as he began running again. “It’s a waste of time.”
Unease swirled through Queen Bee as she followed, but it was overwhelmed by hurt. He really did think she was stupid. He really did. 
“Why do you even bother with me, then,” she choked out. Damnit, she was not going to cry. Especially because Felix had hurt her feelings. As if she cared about what Adrien’s cranky cousin thought of her anyway. As if she cared what any of them thought! She was Chloe Bourgeois! She had beauty, style, grace! She was the real deal; Felix was just too blind to see it. And that was hardly her fault.
“Ugh,” Koira groaned, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “This is why I wanted to wash my hands of this whole thing. I work better alone.” But still, he stopped, dragging Queen Bee into the thing shadow of a chimney. 
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said, scowling. “But you won’t remember. The team is at a disadvantage because of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s choices. Everyone’s identity is one mistake away from being revealed.”
Even as he spoke, Queen Bee was having trouble remembering the words. She managed to hold onto them - barely. “Speaking from experience, your identity being known isn’t the problem. Hawk Moth had an advantage when the Miraculous were being dropped off, but now that we hold onto them full time - ”
“He can come and get them any time he wants,” Koira interrupted, starting off again. 
Queen Bee followed, at a loss. He wasn’t wrong. Hawk Moth had done that very thing to her when he’d targeted her parents. He’d known she’d do anything to save them. And it was her fault most of their team was now at the same disadvantage. But…
“What were they supposed to do?” Queen Bee said at last as she followed her partner through an alley. “What would you have done?”
She was close enough she could see him scowl. He was quiet so long she didn’t think he would answer, but then he spoke.
“It’s impossible to know.” He sped up. “I’ve never loved someone that much.”
Neither had she. She hadn’t even loved herself that much. 
“It doesn’t matter,” Queen Bee finally said. “It’s done. The only thing that matters is whether or not you trust them.”
Koira glanced back again, a half-smile on his face. “Not really,” he said, “And if you knew what I do, you wouldn’t either. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we have the same goals. That’s enough for me.”
Maybe it was her recent experiences with Ladybug, or the fact that she now knew who wore the earrings, but Queen Bee found herself agreeing with Koira. She trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir to do their best, but around each other…
Love was a weapon. Her parents had taught her that. It had only ever led to pain. 
Queen Bee was so engrossed in her warring thoughts that she nearly hit a weathervane, narrowly avoiding it only by throwing herself into a graceful arc over the obstruction.
“Where are we?” she demanded as she glanced around. “This isn’t our normal route.”
“No,” Koira agreed. “I thought it was time to do more than just damage control.”
Queen Bee scowled at her partner. “Meaning?”
“Why are we always cleaning up Hawk Moth’s messes?” Koira said as he led her down another street. “Why are we always being chased instead of chasing?”
“Like, a million reasons.” Trust was one thing, but questioning how things were done… it wasn’t perfect but it worked. “One, we don’t know anything about him. Two, he, like, never shows up in public. Three, we don’t know anything about him.”
“Don’t we?” Koira said, finally coming to a stop on the roof of a random building. “After all, Chat Noir thought he didn’t know anything about Ladybug until he had to find her.”
Queen Bee opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue as her heart beat once, then twice. A tone rang briefly in her ear, distracting her, until she abruptly refocused on Koira shaking his head, the last few seconds a hazy blur.
“We just think we don’t know anything about him,” Koira continued as though nothing had happened as he pulled a loose tile out. “Truth is, LB and Chat Noir have been so busy cleaning up they haven’t had time to do anything else. But now they have us.”
“Are you going to stop being cryptic or do I have to continue to pretend to be interested in whatever you’re rambling about?” Queen Bee snapped. 
Koira scowled, but leaned back to show her the map he’d pulled out from under the tile, marked with dozens of red dots. “Do you know how criminal profiling started?”
“Like…instagram accounts for bad guys?”
“Profiling.” Koira pointed to the map. “Where detectives and scientists would put together a profile on their bad guy based on the data of their crimes to help them catch them when they didn’t even have an eye-witness to go on. It started when investigators would mark where suspects carried out their crimes. More often than not, the crimes would take place in a radius around where the suspect did the deed. They didn’t like to go too far from home, but they didn’t like to be too close, either. Too obvious. Problem is, you’re left with a nice little target on your head that anyone can find if they just notice the pattern.”
Queen Bee frowned at the map. “But that doesn’t look like anything. There’s dots all over Paris.”
“But just Paris,” Koira said, splaying his gloved hand over the map. “So we know he’s probably in the city.”
���Puh-lease! He’s after the Miraculous, right? Which is where Ladybug and Chat Noir are. So he’s creating akumas here. That’s all that proves. After all, you’re not from here.”
“He has to be close,” Koira insisted. “The Miraculous have limits. He wouldn’t be able to feel negative emotions from too far away.”
“Not necessarily,” Queen Bee said, crouching closer to the map for a better look. “The horse miraculous and rabbit miraculous have no limits on distance, temporal or physical. He akumatized a villain in the United States just a few months ago.”
Koira huffed, running a hand through his hair. “This is why I bother with you.”
Queen Bee blinked over at him. “What?”
“You’re so combative.” He traced an invisible line from dot to dot. “You just love to be right.” His hand abruptly froze on the map as he looked over at her. “I see things more clearly with you.”
Queen Bee could feel every nerve in her body tingle as those green eyes bored into hers. So similar, but so different. Amber flecks instead of blue. But looking at Adrien had never made her feel like this, like every nerve in her body was on fire.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” she whispered. “He would want to be here, to get his hands on the Miraculous as soon as possible. Maybe not when everything first started, but now…”
“He’s appeared in the city,” Koira said, but his gaze didn’t stray from her face. “He saved Mayura when she was in danger. He wouldn’t have been fast enough if he’d been elsewhere.”
“So he’s here,” Queen Bee repeated, finally breaking his gaze to scour the map again, but no pattern revealed itself.
“Somewhere. We just have to flush him out.” Koira paused, tracing more invisible lines. “It might take some…bonding time.”
Queen Bee made a face. “Bonding time? With…?”
Koira barked a laugh as he caught her meaning. “God, no. I meant you with our fearless leader and me with my dear cousin. There’s a pattern here; we just need more details. I’m betting the wonder twins have just been too enamoured with one another to see it. But you and I can probably find it, or some clues, to start to form a picture.”
“Oh. Right.” She was definitely not stung that he didn’t want to hang out with her. She was just embarrassed to have jumped to conclusions. That was it. “Well, I must warn you, the Lady’s not my biggest fan. She might be suspicious.”
Koira glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Trust me: play your cards right and she’ll give you just about anything. I, on the other hand, have no such trump card. The cat will have his back up.”
But Queen Bee bit her lip. “Maybe it would be better to just tell them.” Striking out on her own, not trusting Ladybug had been what had caused all her problems in the first place. 
“Answer me this,” Koira said, turning to face her. “Do you honestly think they’ll let us do this if we say anything?”
No. No, they wouldn’t. They’d be afraid of the consequences. Queen Bee was afraid of the consequences. But she was beginning to be more afraid of what she already had to lose. A sense of urgency rose up in her, nudging at her in a way she couldn’t quite grasp. She breathed through the panic, letting it guide her to a conclusion.
“Once we find him,” Queen Bee said at last, “We tell them, before we do anything.” 
“Deal,” Koira said, reaching for his map. “I would have anyway. I’ve seen first-hand the consequences of taking Hawk Moth on without everyone on board. But until then, this stays between us.”
Queen Bee stood, arms crossed. “As if I’ll even remember what house this is after we leave,” she scoffed.
But she would. She’d memorized the house across the way and the name of the street. She might not get it on the first try, but if she had to, she could probably find it again. She was done, she decided. She was done letting Hawk Moth jerk her around. She was done having her life ruined over and over again because she was afraid. And she was done being on defense. 
And she wanted it, she realized. More than anything, she wanted Hawk Moth’s head on a platter. It had been months since he’d last manipulated her, but the wounds were still fresh, and stung more than she remembered. 
Queen Bee wanted her life back.
And Hawk Moth was going to damn well give it to her, even if she had to chase him through all of Paris to get it.
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mantrabay · 4 years ago
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Rush Amid The Rapids.
“Must I always be posting transactions?” I said to myself, Landon Croaker, accountant, adjusting my backpack as I rambled up a ragged winding woodland path.
A granite strewn gulag odyssey lay ahead.
There was the usual green stew of ornate plants.
Ancient Fir Clubmoss which grows into a chalice- like shape.
The St Patrick’s cabbage, with thick leather zig zag veins.
Hapless Fraochan and Whortleberry shrub’s pendant fruit so symmetrical.
I brought my notebook with me.
Closet novelist or bard one day?
Canopy of lattice branch springboards abound.
Shrieks
from stunned squirrels leaping in the arc of a trapeze with blue jay alarm signal.
Rustle of rabbits under slender stalks.
Puffball cloud and brown-dust spore floaters.
A wastrel I was within the wilds.
I was getting close to where my friends, a husband and wife team lived and ran a fringe publishing company.
They resided in a cherry wood log cabin with tongue and groove cladding and a pine timbered roof lantern peering down a mountain side.
Like a watchtower the mountain sat in sinister observance.
A fallow deer suddenly appeared.
It looked furtively with startled eyes as if it knew something I didn’t.
Within minutes it vanished.
Flies swarmed about, the spooky whistleblowers on this solitary hiker’s grazed cheeks.
My clothes were wringing wet from the sweltering heat.
The curious urban spirit drove me on.
Chambered cairns, those passage tunnels from the past that act as stone markers for the venturer were rife.
Platform mounds whose ribboned cracks and gouges play host to strongly rooted Chasmophytes.
There was a lurking presence as the cabin became visible.
“Hello, there. Fancy seeing you here.
Welcome back.”
Chelsea, in a croaking baby twang.
“Oh …you frightened me.” Landon said.
I nearly toppled.
Chelsea dashed towards me.
“A bit worried there, Landon.
What a surprise!
We like surprising people too.”
I paused and replied.
“It's the unexpected that adds spice to this life business and others!”
Landon sardonically.
“You sound tired.”
Chelsea replied.
“We’ll change that. We’ll change everything about your life now you’re here.”
The ramifications of that would soon unfold.
“The last time I was here we talked about having children.
Any decision yet?
You could always adopt.”
I continued.
“Don’t have to.
Got my husband and he’s got me.” She said.
“We’re both kids at heart.”
Her sad voice trailing off.
“This location seems ideal but there’s schooling and everything.”
Chelsea hesitantly.
“Nothing that couldn’t be resolved.”
Landon in reply.
Croaker sensed Chelsea’s unease and didn’t continue.
“Hey, what’s this?” Croaker cried as two apples landed at his feet.
“Yahoo. You two.”
Chesney, Chelsea’s husband shouted.
“It’s been so long.
Doesn't time fly?”
Chesney again.
While walking it dawned on Landon how dewy-eyed and child-like this couple were.
.
Entering the cabin seemed like something from a storybook.
Cartoon mosaics attached to fool’s gold borders, zip purse smashed purple bead inserts, and shredded comic strips.
“There are shrouds of deep mystery here.”
Croaker thought.
“Hey Snap.
What’s accountancy like these days?”
Chesney’s smug question.
“Nothing really changes.
Investment investment hazards and the like.
It’s a world I drifted into.
How about your company in paradise.”
Croaker sarcastically.
“Publishing is odd.
You almost become the stories submitted.”
Chesney observed.
“Birth and regrowth are gaining interest.
Am I boring you?” Chesney enquired.
“Well, it beats accountancy.”
Landon tactfully.
A salad of roasted lemon, fennel fronds and pomegranate was served with
guacamole dip based on chunky avocado.
After our meal we washed up
Chelsea’s phantom figure scurried outside with Olympic speed.
It was so redolent of the suddenness about.
A rapt cocoon descended around Chesney and Landon's interaction.
Landon quizzed Chesney about the urban country rift.
Tranquil timberlands have their own stressors.
“See those creatures slumped awkwardly on fragile twigs?
They sense pending doom.”
Chesney observed.
“Can you really escape hectic city life?”
A querulous tone from Chesney.
“Maybe these divisions are fictional.”
Landon archly.
“Thud. What’s that?”
Chesney shaking.
Chelsea entered.
“Oh dear .. let’s say a homing pigeon.
They’re a strange breed.”
She said smugly.
“Very strange indeed.”
Chesney out loud.
Chelsea and Chesney exchange strained silent glances.
A circus of the wilds continued outside as species vied with species in an ego fanfare.
Chirping robin red breasts,
wing scraping crickets in high chorus.
Vulcan steam curtain as backdrop.
Horseshoe Bats that weave rainbow shafts.
Daddy long legs with their cancan dances on sodden patches.
“Excuse me …..ring a bell?” Chesney diverting Landon’s attention with a broken fragment.
Landon bought this autumn crocus crystal vase on a previous sojourn.
It slipped from his hands in a butter fingers incident.
Croaker uttered the words “my lasting gift” as it fell.
Cackles erupted but frustration for Landon.
“A hilarious keepsake after a fashion.”
Chelsea opined.
“Really?”
Said Landon embarrassed by this anecdote.
The hours passed and they were both tired.
Landon saw Chesney remove a letter from a ring pull drawer.
“Just an old bill. Must shred it.” He said.
“Why would Chesney explain that?
His face reddened.
Curious.” Landon thought.
Shuffling to bed Landon did notice
pink salmon eiderdowns, pillows with children sleeping under moonlit skies, and Milky Way throw blankets.
The night passed uneventfully.
There were some noises in the kitchen as morning approached.
Having woken sluggishly Croaker walked into the dinning area.
A sense of foreboding filled the room.
Landon grappled awkwardly with claustrophobia.
It was disrupted by the chatter of the chestnut -sided warbler.
An oak hook tip moth added charm with its zoom and flutter acrobatics.
“I’ve the creepiest feeling.”
Croaker reasoned.
“BUZZZ ……..Buzzzzz ……Boing.”
My old cell-phone’s text tone.
My boss. Wonder what he wants?”
Landon to himself.
“Dear Landon,
When you return I would like to speak to you about your future with this company.
I can’t go into further details
as it involves a lot of interested parties.
A wide -ranging discussion is in order,
Regards,
Tom Wright
Managing Director.”
Landon’s worst fears now confirmed.
“I’m confused.
Just how pressing is this or …. what is this in front of me?”
A letter from Chesney and Chelsea.
“Hi Landon,
We had to leave quickly.
Help yourself to whatever largesse there is.
Don’t know how long we’ll be.
You can hang around of course or leave.
Don’t break anything!!
Ha ha,
Ches and Chels.”
Incredible! Between the text and the letter who wouldn’t be alarmed?
Landon limped outside to an ear splitting din and a mist laden detritus that merged into pockets of streams steeplechasing each other.
A slimy frog vaulted and cast a damp viscous oil spray in Croaker’s direction.
Something ….a shadow.
“This has been the most peculiar visit I’ve ever had.
Intrigue seems encoded in it.”
Croaker’s anxiety growing.
A tap on the shoulder followed by a crystal shard at his feet.
“The vase remember?
Don’t be so serious ……..we’ve something to discuss with you.”
Chesney said pointedly.
“An Agatha Christie mystery novel has nothing on this.”
Landon fretted.
“We’ve been reflecting, Chelsea and I.
Your presence is an extraordinary coincidence.”
Chesney quizzically.
“We’d like to offer you a job as our accountant.”
Chelsea suggested.
Croaker now shivering.
“You know by now we love to jumpstart even our closest friends.
This post is tailor made for you.”
Chelsea once more.
“Your boss will understand.”
Croaker’s head was now in a spin.
“You like writing don’t you?
There’s plenty of stories here.”
Chelsea opined.
“All this trouble to offer me a job?” Croaker queried.
“We don’t do things by halves.”
Chelsea with Chesney nodding.
A carousel of thoughts flashed through Landon’s mind at this juncture.
He walked in a trance struggling with everything.
“What was in Chelsea’s sports bag I wonder?” Thought Croaker.
“Let’s go for a swim, Landon.
I’ve got swim trunks for us all.”
Chelsea tossed a nylon mesh swim trunks at Landon as everyone changed.
Something slipped out of Chesney's pocket without him noticing.
It was that letter Chesney removed previously and read as follows.
“Dear Chesney and Chelsea,
As your doctor I regret you won’t be able to have children. It’s with a heavy heart I share this with you.
There are many reasons for this…”
The rest of the letter was creased and illegible.
It was subsequently swept to the river’s edge underneath a Crested Iris by a slight breeze.
Meanwhile, we were all breast stroking energetically while taking the occasional breather.
“You can make up your mind, Landon, at the end of this swim whenever that is and wherever it is taking us.”
Chelsea giggled as she circulated in the eddying stream.
We all started off again as we followed each other’s course.
“Awh, the child within!” Cried Chelsea.
As Landon pondered his fate the mountain looked down imperiously upon us all as the stray deer suddenly reappeared from nowhere.
Maybe that deer did know something after all!
Photograph and literary piece by mantrabay copyright protected
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mlwritingprompts · 5 years ago
Note
Missed chances(1/?): Marinette uses the bunny miraculous, and takes advantage of the sentibug incident. She makes a team consisting of Alya using the bee, and a person of your chosing with the snake. They defeat Hawk Moth. Sentibug is also still alive. Now, what exactly happens to the future is on you. But even if nothing happens in the future, Marinette now knows the identity of Mayura and Hawk Moth, and could use it to her advantage. The next part is just a rant about time travel.
Rules for the blog - send a short prompt - send a long prompt
Time travel rants (because I am also ranting about time travel because these writers are IDIOTS) under the cut)
------Missed Chances(2/?): What happens in the future is entirely dependant in the writer. The rules of time travel in this universe just keep changing, and it is annoying. With first Bunnix episode, it seems they were going with closed loop type time travel (like in Harry Potter, and the prisoner of Azkaban. my least favorite type of time travel. People say that this type of time travel is the best, because it is the most consistent. But it has a lot of vague limitations. Why couldn't Marinette do
Missed Chances(3/3): What I said she would do in the prompt? If she already did, we would have seen her in Ladybug. Why couldn't Harry go back in time, and murder tom riddle as a baby or a toddler? Etcetra. I hate it). But tge second Bunnix episode seems to suggest different time lines that can randomly change the future and glitch together. They don't fit together. I understand if you won't post my rant. ------
________________________________________________________________
I’m gonna go on a rant too.
And I gotta say. Desperada? Pisses me off. That is NOT how time loops work. Adrien was not looping through time. He was jumping from universe to universee. DeaR GOD he probably isn’t even in the fucking universe he started in oh no.
The Adrien that exists after the Desperada episode is not the Adrien that existed before it. He’s from an alternate universe and he was sent here to replace the Adrien that left. There’s no other fucking explanation, BECAUSE THAT IS NOT HOW TIME LOOPS WORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SHOULD KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! I FUCKING LOVE TIME LOOPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And oh my GOD I’ve said it before but everything about the Chat Blanc episode is shit. And I’m not even talking about how creepy Adrien is. I mean all the fucking rules they are breaking. That’s not how the time travel you’ve already established for this unvierse works, and MORE IMPORTANTLY, THAT IS NOT HOW AKUMAS WORK!!!!
Gabriel CANNOT just give Chat Blanc “unlimited powers of destruciton” LIKE NO! NO! That’s not how this works! All Akuma have rules they have to follow! Limitations! Checks and Balances!!!! They have to fucking have a motivation!!!
I used this metaphor before and Im gonna use it again: They’re like the ghosts from Danny Phantom. They have a core Obsession that defines their entire existance. If you take away that core ideology, they do not exist. Akuma are formed from powerful emotions, and they are nothing but that single emotion. Their only goal is to accomplish whatever idea was motivation them in the moment that Gabriel captured them.
Like, look at how much difficulty Gabriel has convincing the Akumas to do what he tells them. How many times does he have to put serious effort into convincing them? How often does he have to remind them of what they’re  “supposed” to be doing? How many times do they argue back? How many times does he get fed up with them not listening to him?
Akumas are nothing more than powerful emotions given form, driven ONLY to accomplish whatever they wanted to accomplish in the moment they came into existance.
Without their motivation, they are nothing.
So what the FUCK was Chat Blanc’s motivation? Seemingly to destroy everything, considering that’s the first thing he fucking did. But then suddenly he wants to fix everything???? THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS.
And again!!! It’s not fucking possible for Gabriel to give Chat Blank “unlimited” power. All the fucking Akuma are bound by limitations beyond their control. GABRIEL is bound by limitations beyond his control. Not only can he NOT give Chat Blanc unlimited power with no limitations, THERE IS NO WAY CHAT BLANC COULD DESTROY THE ENTIRE MULTIVERSE. THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS. THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS.
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creedatelier · 4 years ago
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Rush Amid The Rapids.
“Must I always be posting transactions?” I said to myself, Landon Croaker, accountant, adjusting my backpack as I rambled up a ragged winding woodland path.
A granite strewn gulag odyssey lay ahead.
There was the usual green stew of ornate plants.
Ancient Fir Clubmoss which grows into a chalice- like shape.
The St Patrick’s cabbage, with thick leather zig zag veins.
Hapless Fraochan and Whortleberry shrub’s pendant fruit so symmetrical.
I brought my notebook with me.
Closet novelist or bard one day?
Canopy of lattice branch springboards abound.
Shrieks
from stunned squirrels leaping in the arc of a trapeze with blue jay alarm signal.
Rustle of rabbits under slender stalks.
Puffball cloud and brown-dust spore floaters.
A wastrel I was within the wilds.
I was getting close to where my friends, a husband and wife team lived and ran a fringe publishing company.
They resided in a cherry wood log cabin with tongue and groove cladding and a pine timbered roof lantern peering down a mountain side.
Like a watchtower the mountain sat in sinister observance.
A fallow deer suddenly appeared.
It looked furtively with startled eyes as if it knew something I didn’t.
Within minutes it vanished.
Flies swarmed about, the spooky whistleblowers on this solitary hiker’s grazed cheeks.
My clothes were wringing wet from the sweltering heat.
The curious urban spirit drove me on.
Chambered cairns, those passage tunnels from the past that act as stone markers for the venturer were rife.
Platform mounds whose ribboned cracks and gouges play host to strongly rooted Chasmophytes.
There was a lurking presence as the cabin became visible.
“Hello, there. Fancy seeing you here.
Welcome back.”
Chelsea, in a croaking baby twang.
“Oh …you frightened me.” Landon said.
I nearly toppled.
Chelsea dashed towards me.
“A bit worried there, Landon.
What a surprise!
We like surprising people too.”
I paused and replied.
“It's the unexpected that adds spice to this life business and others!”
Landon sardonically.
“You sound tired.”
Chelsea replied.
“We’ll change that. We’ll change everything about your life now you’re here.”
The ramifications of that would soon unfold.
“The last time I was here we talked about having children.
Any decision yet?
You could always adopt.”
I continued.
“Don’t have to.
Got my husband and he’s got me.” She said.
“We’re both kids at heart.”
Her sad voice trailing off.
“This location seems ideal but there’s schooling and everything.”
Chelsea hesitantly.
“Nothing that couldn’t be resolved.”
Landon in reply.
Croaker sensed Chelsea’s unease and didn’t continue.
“Hey, what’s this?” Croaker cried as two apples landed at his feet.
“Yahoo. You two.”
Chesney, Chelsea’s husband shouted.
“It’s been so long.
Doesn't time fly?”
Chesney again.
While walking it dawned on Landon how dewy-eyed and child-like this couple were.
.
Entering the cabin seemed like something from a storybook.
Cartoon mosaics attached to fool’s gold borders, zip purse smashed purple bead inserts, and shredded comic strips.
“There are shrouds of deep mystery here.”
Croaker thought.
“Hey Snap.
What’s accountancy like these days?”
Chesney’s smug question.
“Nothing really changes.
Investment investment hazards and the like.
It’s a world I drifted into.
How about your company in paradise.”
Croaker sarcastically.
“Publishing is odd.
You almost become the stories submitted.”
Chesney observed.
“Birth and regrowth are gaining interest.
Am I boring you?” Chesney enquired.
“Well, it beats accountancy.”
Landon tactfully.
A salad of roasted lemon, fennel fronds and pomegranate was served with
guacamole dip based on chunky avocado.
After our meal we washed up
Chelsea’s phantom figure scurried outside with Olympic speed.
It was so redolent of the suddenness about.
A rapt cocoon descended around Chesney and Landon's interaction.
Landon quizzed Chesney about the urban country rift.
Tranquil timberlands have their own stressors.
“See those creatures slumped awkwardly on fragile twigs?
They sense pending doom.”
Chesney observed.
“Can you really escape hectic city life?”
A querulous tone from Chesney.
“Maybe these divisions are fictional.”
Landon archly.
“Thud. What’s that?”
Chesney shaking.
Chelsea entered.
“Oh dear .. let’s say a homing pigeon.
They’re a strange breed.”
She said smugly.
“Very strange indeed.”
Chesney out loud.
Chelsea and Chesney exchange strained silent glances.
A circus of the wilds continued outside as species vied with species in an ego fanfare.
Chirping robin red breasts,
wing scraping crickets in high chorus.
Vulcan steam curtain as backdrop.
Horseshoe Bats that weave rainbow shafts.
Daddy long legs with their cancan dances on sodden patches.
“Excuse me …..ring a bell?” Chesney diverting Landon’s attention with a broken fragment.
Landon bought this autumn crocus crystal vase on a previous sojourn.
It slipped from his hands in a butter fingers incident.
Croaker uttered the words “my lasting gift” as it fell.
Cackles erupted but frustration for Landon.
“A hilarious keepsake after a fashion.”
Chelsea opined.
“Really?”
Said Landon embarrassed by this anecdote.
The hours passed and they were both tired.
Landon saw Chesney remove a letter from a ring pull drawer.
“Just an old bill. Must shred it.” He said.
“Why would Chesney explain that?
His face reddened.
Curious.” Landon thought.
Shuffling to bed Landon did notice
pink salmon eiderdowns, pillows with children sleeping under moonlit skies, and Milky Way throw blankets.
The night passed uneventfully.
There were some noises in the kitchen as morning approached.
Having woken sluggishly Croaker walked into the dinning area.
A sense of foreboding filled the room.
Landon grappled awkwardly with claustrophobia.
It was disrupted by the chatter of the chestnut -sided warbler.
An oak hook tip moth added charm with its zoom and flutter acrobatics.
“I’ve the creepiest feeling.”
Croaker reasoned.
“BUZZZ ……..Buzzzzz ……Boing.”
My old cell-phone’s text tone.
My boss. Wonder what he wants?”
Landon to himself.
“Dear Landon,
When you return I would like to speak to you about your future with this company.
I can’t go into further details
as it involves a lot of interested parties.
A wide -ranging discussion is in order,
Regards,
Tom Wright
Managing Director.”
Landon’s worst fears now confirmed.
“I’m confused.
Just how pressing is this or …. what is this in front of me?”
A letter from Chesney and Chelsea.
“Hi Landon,
We had to leave quickly.
Help yourself to whatever largesse there is.
Don’t know how long we’ll be.
You can hang around of course or leave.
Don’t break anything!!
Ha ha,
Ches and Chels.”
Incredible! Between the text and the letter who wouldn’t be alarmed?
Landon limped outside to an ear splitting din and a mist laden detritus that merged into pockets of streams steeplechasing each other.
A slimy frog vaulted and cast a damp viscous oil spray in Croaker’s direction.
Something ….a shadow.
“This has been the most peculiar visit I’ve ever had.
Intrigue seems encoded in it.”
Croaker’s anxiety growing.
A tap on the shoulder followed by a crystal shard at his feet.
“The vase remember?
Don’t be so serious ……..we’ve something to discuss with you.”
Chesney said pointedly.
“An Agatha Christie mystery novel has nothing on this.”
Landon fretted.
“We’ve been reflecting, Chelsea and I.
Your presence is an extraordinary coincidence.”
Chesney quizzically.
“We’d like to offer you a job as our accountant.”
Chelsea suggested.
Croaker now shivering.
“You know by now we love to jumpstart even our closest friends.
This post is tailor made for you.”
Chelsea once more.
“Your boss will understand.”
Croaker’s head was now in a spin.
“You like writing don’t you?
There’s plenty of stories here.”
Chelsea opined.
“All this trouble to offer me a job?” Croaker queried.
“We don’t do things by halves.”
Chelsea with Chesney nodding.
A carousel of thoughts flashed through Landon’s mind at this juncture.
He walked in a trance struggling with everything.
“What was in Chelsea’s sports bag I wonder?” Thought Croaker.
“Let’s go for a swim, Landon.
I’ve got swim trunks for us all.”
Chelsea tossed a nylon mesh swim trunks at Landon as everyone changed.
Something slipped out of Chesney's pocket without him noticing.
It was that letter Chesney removed previously and read as follows.
“Dear Chesney and Chelsea,
As your doctor I regret you won’t be able to have children. It’s with a heavy heart I share this with you.
There are many reasons for this…”
The rest of the letter was creased and illegible.
It was subsequently swept to the river’s edge underneath a Crested Iris by a slight breeze.
Meanwhile, we were all breast stroking energetically while taking the occasional breather.
“You can make up your mind, Landon, at the end of this swim whenever that is and wherever it is taking us.”
Chelsea giggled as she circulated in the eddying stream.
We all started off again as we followed each other’s course.
“Awh, the child within!” Cried Chelsea.
As Landon pondered his fate the mountain looked down imperiously upon us all as the stray deer suddenly reappeared from nowhere.
Maybe that deer did know something after all!
Photograph and prose poem Copyright Protected.
#creedatelier #blog@creedatelier
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