#The Blue Sky Maiden

[cinematicmasterpiece]

the blue sky maiden (1957)

[shihlun]

Yasuzo Masumura

- The Blue Sky Maiden

1959

[thistheaterishaunted]

The Blue Sky Maiden | Yasuzō Masumura, 1957

[apicturespeaks]

The Blue Sky Maiden, Yasuzō Masumura

[shihlun]

Yasuzo Masumura

- The Blue Sky Maiden

1959

Aozora musume (a.k.a. The Blue Sky Maiden) (Yasuzo Masumura, 1957)

[fridaypacific]

The Blue Sky Maiden on Letterboxd

Yuko is sent to the coastal regions to be raised away from the rest of her sophisticated family where she finds out from her ill grandmother that she is not who she thought she was. ×

[kdram-chjh]

Cdrama: Love and Redemption (2020)

Love and Redemption ♥️♥️ Bai Shu ♥️ Lord Flying Snake ♥️

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/PaXv3-fBGL4

[shihlun]

Yasuzo Masumura

- The Blue Sky Maiden

1959

The Blue Sky Maiden aka Aozora Musume (1957) dir. Yasuzo Masumura.

[geekpopnews]

Konami Animation | O estúdio de animes da Konami

Durante o evento, no Tokyo Dome, em comemoração aos 25 anos do cardgame de Yu-Gi-Oh! a Konami anunciou o seu estúdio de animação, o Konami Animation. #yugioh #konami #konamianimation

Durante o evento de Yu-Gi-Oh! realizado no Tokyo Dome, em comemoração aos 25 anos do cardgame, a Konami anunciou o Konami Animation, o seu mais novo estúdio para animações. Neste sábado (03) a Konami apresentou uma transmissão no Tokyo Dome, com o intuito de revelar seu próprio estúdio de animações. Com o título de Konami Animation, o departamento foi o foco principal de um showcase…

[shihlun]

Yasuzo Masumura

- The Blue Sky Maiden

1959

[peachdues]

SCALED — the teaser

Sailor!Sanemi x Mermaid!Reader • 18+

A/N: it’s Sanemi’s turn to be the monsterfucker, y’all.

CW: the tiniest bit suggestive but be warned: this story will be hella NSFW. MDNI. Sanemi gets a taste of mermussy later

There, amidst the cragged adamant, is a flash of blue. Not the blue of the ocean, with its subtle greens that shift in and out of the sun’s punishing rays. It was the blue of jewels; of precious sapphires and tourmalines like those he’d seen hanging from ropes of silver the nobles wore around their necks. Indigo, too, like the watery trail left behind by the moon when it hung fat and silver in the night sky.

The very precise shade of blue Douma had described.

Sanemi squints harder as the blue shifts and sways atop the rocks. The sun glitters off the whorls of color, blending them together just as much as it pulls them apart. A sudden wave knocks harshly up the side of the ship, spraying his face with sea water. When he finishes wiping the salt from his eyes, the ship has moved a little closer into shore, and Sanemi can finally make out the source of the blue.

A woman. No, he shakes his head as he wipes the back of his hand again across his eyes. Not a woman — not fully. True, she bears all the upper attributes of a woman: two arms, pretty hands, and human breasts bared toward the sun. Her face too, is human, even if her beauty is otherworldly. But, as Sanemi tracks his eyes down the length of her form, he sees that her humanity stops right below her navel. Where her hips should give way to two legs — and the paradise he knows, as a man, must lie between them — there are only scales. Rich, cobalt scales, untinteruppted as they stretch down down down the side of the rock.

Drifting lazily in the surf is the tip of her great tail.

A mermaid.

Sanemi’s jaw slackens. A swear creeps up his throat, but it dies on his tongue, now too dry, too swollen to force it out.

A charter could undertake a thousand different expeditions to seek out a mermaid only to return empty handed — if it returned at all. Yet, here he was, stranded on a ship that managed to come across one on her maiden voyage. Even if Sanemi had been a betting man, this is the sort of odd he’d never have the stones to wager. Not if his life depended on it.

He thinks he should count his lucky stars he doesn’t have such vices. Otherwise, he would’ve been deprived of this — of her and her enchanting beauty — if he had.

Silently, he watches the mermaid in awe until the ship has nearly passed the rock upon which she suns.

Her eyes flash to his.

Sanemi dares not blink; neither does she. Even the call seagulls fades beneath the gentle crash of the waves lapping against the ship’s hull.

A mermaid is the price to gain back what we lost, boy. Douma had boasted with his too sharp smile and too sharp teeth. Perhaps you’ll win your freedom by helping us gain ours.

He thinks of his mother; of his sisters and their frightened faces and rigid shoulders as Douma’s men leered and taunted them; of the gash his brother now bears across his cheek.

He thinks of the beautiful creature watching him warily from her sanctuary among the lodestone, her tail dragging slowly through the water.

Fuck ‘em. He won’t say a damn word.

“Boy!”

On reflex, Sanemi whips around. Scanning the deck, he finds the irritated mug of Kyogai, snarling and sneering at him from the quarter deck. A quick glance overboard and Sanemi holds up two fingers; two meters between the rocks and the ship’s starboard side.

Kyogai scoffs and turns away. The rest of the crew ignore him, too busy throwing rope and drawing in the sails as they prepare to anchor. For a long moment he remains frozen, feet cemented to the forecastle with no memory of how to move. Only when he feels the familiar shudder shake below the keel is he able to move his tight limbs.

He does not hear the faint splash of water over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Breathe, idiot. He commands himself. In, one, two, three through his nose; let the salt ignite his blood, creep up the back of his tongue, before he lets it out in the same count. Repeat. Repeat again, until his errant pulse calms. Then he will look.

When Sanemi finally turns back, the mermaid is gone.

[syoddeye]

cygnet, plucked | price x reader | part one part one cw: clothes stealing, forced transformation, coercion, familial abandonment, non-consensual touching/manhandling, restraints, masturbation mention, forced marriage forthcoming cw: dubcon, forced marriage, blood, mild injury a/n: reader is a swan shapeshifter. she retains some feathers as a human. based off this request, obvs influenced by swan-maidens, swan lake.

The first time he touches you, it's your wrist. A firm grip, just below the joint. Testing. Feeling the few feathers that sprout there, thumbing over the delicate, individual rachis.

You don't move. Don't speak. Torn between the instinct to flee and the paralyzing fear that you cannot. You watch his face. The thick brows, the kempt beard. The wrinkles that pull at his forehead when he frowns.

He is older than you—older than you look, at least. His arms are burly, heavy with muscle and hair, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows like he means to get his hands dirty at any moment. Willing to. Blue eyes, your favorite color until this second, framed by crow's feet and speak to experience.

He looks at you with expectations you wish you didn't understand.

"Can't leave without this, can you?"

Your dress, spun from feathers and thread, drapes over his shoulder like a pelt. As if it were a thing he hunted, caught, claimed—that he did not simply steal it from the lakeshore when you were distracted. It doesn't belong there. It doesn't belong anywhere but on you.

"Come along. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Your sisters are gone. Fled, shrieking into the oncoming sunrise. You do not blame them. But it hurts. 

The lake is still. Empty.

He lets the silence stretch, patient. He has all the time in the world. You don't.

You've watched human men before, from a safe distance, tucked among the reeds with your sisters. You've seen what they do when they think no one is watching. The way their faces shift at the sight of a woman. The way their hands reach, take, ruin.

You are a flightless bird, exposed. Not much of a swan. A sitting duck.

What choice do you have?

You follow.

You learn his name is John. That he has lived in this cabin for almost a year. That he built it himself. That he traps and skins, chops wood, salts fish, keeps a gun out of reach, hidden like your dress.

He tells you these things in pieces, the same way he feeds you. A bowl of soup set down in front of you with no ceremony. A tin cup of well water. A torn hunk of bread.

He talks a little, asks a little.

"Never seen anything like you," he says on the second night while you cower behind his chair by the fire. Where you slept after tearing out of his arms and screaming yourself hoarse. "Wish you'd talk to me. Awfully shy, aren't you?"

It galls you. Shy. As if he is not keeping you here, naked. Vulnerable. You ache for your wings. The sky.

You say nothing.

He exhales through his nose, it sounds like a laugh. "I suppose it's not an easy thing, coming from a life like yours."

You want to ask him what he thinks your life was. But you don't want to know what he would say.

He keeps the dress in a chest under his bed.

You desperately search and find it while he is outside splitting wood. The latch is loose. Stupidly unlocked. You lift the lid and your breath catches. There it is. Your feathers, your escape, the lifeline that made you you.

Your fingers graze the fabric. It should be soft, but it feels wrong, foreign and unfamiliar under your hands. You wonder if it is altered. If it will still fit. If it's too late, tainted by his handling.

"Looking for something?"

You slam the lid shut.

John stands in the doorway, hands on his hips. Forehead slick with sweat. The axe is outside, leaning against the chopping block, but his knife is at his belt.

He'd hurt you if you tried to run, maybe kill you. You are not so sure you want to die.

You don't answer.

He crosses the room. He doesn't look angry. He looks—wry. Pleased. Like he had been waiting for this.

He kneels beside you, one arm resting on his knee, and tilts his head. Reeking of pine and tobacco smoke. "That's not for you anymore, darling."

You swallow. This is the closest you've been since he entrapped you. "It is mine."

He nods, as if conceding the point. "And what would you do with it?" he asks. "Go back? To what?"

He reaches out, wiping away a single, hot tear. The fireplace pops, and you feel the warmth of his skin before you feel the roughness of his fingers. You hate it.

"The lake is still empty. They've not come back."

You think of your sisters. You think of the wind under your wings and streaming over your back, the open sky. You think of the sound of John reviving the hearth in the morning, how he dropped a blanket over you the first night, and said, You'll freeze like that.

Of course, he thinks nothing of the fact that he's the reason why you're naked. Blind to it or willfully ignorant.

"It's just you and me now. I'll take care of you, Shy."

Shy. That isn't your name. But you'll be dead before you give your real one to him. At least something will remain yours.

You look at him. He is a big man. Broad shoulders and palms. Thick, hairy arms and a barrel chest. You've seen the thing between his legs—he's made no efforts to hide himself or alter his routine with you hiding in the corner. He touches himself in the dark when he thinks you're sleeping.

He could break you easily. But he hasn't.

Not yet.

He brushes his knuckles over your cheek.

"Can't believe I found you," he says. "A pretty wife, fished from the lake. Or the sky, I suppose." He smiles, chuckling as if you're both in on the joke. "Mm. Wife." He presses his thumb to your bottom lip. "Yeah, like the sound of that. I'll make you a proper wife."

The way he says it is careful. Thoughtful. It is a promise, or a threat. You cannot tell which. 

You look at the chest.

You look at John.

And you do not answer.

John returns at dusk, the door creaking wide to let in the last slant of daylight, and finds you trussed up where he left you. Your wrists are raw, delicate skin rubbed angry beneath the ropes that tightened with your struggling. 

His shadow spills over you, and a sigh slips from him, edged with disappointment. He crouches. Fingers press into your skin, prodding where the rope bit deepest.

"Damn near hurt yourself, honey," he scolds, massaging the worst of the raw spots. He touches you in the way you've seen him care for his axe. Slow, reverent, making sure nothing is too damaged. Unusable. 

A hand settles over the soft, feathery patch above your rump, fingers carding through it appreciatively, lingering before he unravels the last knot. He ignores your hissing.

The moment you're free, you scramble away, body aching. You tuck yourself behind his chair, peeking out with sharp, distrustful eyes. He lets you go, lets you think you've won some small mercy. 

Then he turns his back, shaking out his coat, unpacking the sack he carried in, setting out each item on the table. Dull, practical offerings—salt, flour, needles, twine. Things for a life you don't want. Things for a home you will never call yours. And last, draped over his forearm, a dress. Mundane. Plain, homespun, the color of stone.

But you are distracted. Staring at the chest.

He only addresses your fixation when he's finished, and hauls it out from under the bed. 

"Take a look."

You do. You don't want to, but you do. Your gaze flicks to him first, wary, waiting for the trap. You open it, and your stomach drops.

Your head snaps up, stuttering, eyes glossing over with hot, helpless rage. 

His smile stretches, knowing. Then, he produces the last item from his trip and draws a bundle from the sack.

He explains it's the reason why he's later than expected. A special order that took hours and a bit of coin, but was well worth it. The seamstress did fine work.

Isn't it pretty?

See the little wing pattern she stitched in?

They're the only wings you'll have now.

He holds it out, delicate feathers and lace draping over his hand, the ruined remnants of your freedom reshaped into something grotesque. A wedding veil.

"Try it on for me, darling," he murmurs, offering it with one hand and adjusting himself with the other. "Let me see my bride."

part two | masterlist

[eddieslunchbox]

sweet child of mine

summary: it's 1988 and eddie takes you to a guns n' roses concert to see your favourite song live

18+ [boyfriend!eddie x female!reader]

contains: a lot of fluff, a lot of love, kissing, brief mention of alcohol, swearing, eddie takes care of you

word count: 4.7k

a/n: extremely cheesy concert vibes since eddie never got the chance to love guns n' roses. and as will always stand, my characters are adults and no longer in high school! please reblog/comment if you enjoy my writing, any feedback is extremely appreciated ❤

Spending half his paycheck to snag tickets for a band he heard play on the radio twice was never something Eddie thought he’d do. 

At least not until you burst into his trailer one day with an Appetite for Destruction cassette tape in your hand, demanding that he let you use his boombox so you could play him the band your friend had just introduced you to that morning. The two of you then spent the night listening to the entire album. 

Well… what he thought would’ve been the entire album. 

When track 9 came on for the first time, he saw the ways your eyes lit up at the rich and memorable guitar riff combined with the first few words that rolled off of the tongue of Axl Rose through the speakers of his cassette player. 

She’s got a smile that it seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

When everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky

Every time the song ended, you reached over and rewinded the tape to the beginning of the track, leaving Eddie having the lyrics memorized within half an hour, miming the guitar riff with his hands as the two of you laid on the floor in his bedroom. 

Sweet Child of Mine quickly became your favourite song, Eddie throwing it on whenever you were in the passenger seat of his van just to see the joy on your face. He later sat you down in his room and played the entire song he learned for you on his guitar. You then proceeded to climb into his lap and kiss him until his face was red, mumbling against his lips that you loved him, which just happened to be the very first time you told him that. 

So when Wayne mentioned to him that Guns N’ Roses were headlining a show in Indianapolis, he called in sick to work and drove down to the arena at the crack of dawn, standing in line for four hours to get a pair of tickets. 

It was worth every second though, when he picked you up from work that afternoon, leaning against the side of his van with tickets in hand.

You slipped them out from between his fingers, a smile pulling at your lips. 

“What’s this?” You asked, tilting your chin down to read what was printed on the cardstock before you looked back up at him with wide eyes. “Eddie- are you serious?” 

“As a heart attack, sweetheart,” he murmured and was practically body slammed into his van when you lunged into his arms with an excited squeal, squeezing all of the air from his lungs. 

He could still feel the tight hold you had on him that day if he closed his eyes and thought about it hard enough. 

You were even more excited when he said it would just be the two of you, as his bandmates briefly mentioned wanting to see them if they ever came to the city. Eddie never had the privilege of taking you to a concert before and was taking advantage of it, eager to have you pressed against his side the entire evening listening to your new but now shared, favourite band.

The drive to the venue was filled with your eager ramblings about how much you were looking forward to the evening, and Eddie was already over the moon at your delight. 

He had been to Market Square Arena once before when he saw Iron Maiden a few years back, but was in the nosebleeds with the only tickets his uncle could afford. This time though, you were on the floor, much to your surprise when you got scanned in with a bright yellow wristband being handed to you.

Eddie guides you onto the arena’s floor, hand tucked tightly in yours. There were no seats, the entire floor acting as one big mosh pit he’s sure would form sometime throughout the night. Hoards of people already crowding at the barricade, packed in like sardines despite the amount of empty space lingering behind them. 

He glances down at you to ask if you want to be closer to the front, but your eyes are wide as they scan over the crowd filled with loud, burly men with cups of beer in their hand, uncaring when the liquid splashes over the rim and onto the sticky floor. Younger people are scattered amongst the crowd as well but Eddie knows that doesn’t matter when you unintentionally falter in your step beside him. 

Wordlessly, he leads you towards the side of the room where the crowd is sparser and he can lean against the wall separating the crowd from the endless rows of seats slowly being filled behind him.

“Is this alright?” He asks, pulling you to face him as he rests his lower back against the lip of the wall. 

You nod. “You didn’t tell me we were on the floor!” You exclaim, bouncing on the balls of your feet and he smiles, holding your hand to his chest and dipping his chin down to kiss your knuckles. 

“You saw the tickets,” he teases and you roll your eyes, glancing towards the stage. “Do you want to go and grab any merch before the show starts?” 

There was a little less than an hour left before the band took stage and you’d already stopped on your way in to grab a bottle of water that Eddie insisted you have, wanting to ensure you stay hydrated throughout the night. 

“I don’t want anything,” you say and he lifts his brow at you, tugging on your hand and focusing your attention back on him. 

“I call bullshit.” 

“I don’t!” You insist, not wanting him to spend more money on you than he already has. You know that he will insist he pays for whatever you might want, but having him here with you is more than enough. “We’re already here anyways, I don’t want to fight through the crowds.” 

He saw you eyeing a t-shirt on your way into the arena and has no doubt that you’ll be changing your mind later, hopefully before everything is sold out. He would run and grab you whatever you wanted but he doesn’t trust a single person around you, other than the minimal security guards stationed in different parts of the pit. 

“You know I’ll buy you whatever you want, darling,” he says with a squeeze to your hand and you smile at the fact that you were right.

“I know you will, Eds. But I don’t want anything. Unless you do?” 

He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, curls brushing the leather jacket he hardly ever takes off. And as per his request, you’re adorned in one of his denim jackets, the fabric soft with wear and draping over you with the subtle scent of him left behind.

There really is nothing he loves more than seeing you in his clothes, other than you of course, and when you lean forward to curl your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest, he feels his heart beat a little faster at the reminder that you chose him out of everyone you could’ve had. He feels like the luckiest person on planet earth, with you in his arms. 

You’re relaxed in his hold, surrounded by the earthy smell of his leather jacket combined with the velvety musk of his favourite cologne. Your eyes fall shut for a few breaths and Eddie’s chin comes down to rest on the top of your head, one of his palms splaying over your back with the other dragging softly down the side of your thigh. 

The touch is innocent but when you hear a sudden wolf-whistle from somewhere behind you, your eyes flutter open to see a man watching the interaction with a sleazy grin on his face that makes you grimace. You pull back in time to watch Eddie lift his middle finger in the air, muttering “dickhead” under his breath as the man ignores him in favour of dragging his eyes down your figure before turning back to converse with someone standing next to him. 

You’re dressed in a pair of dark skinny jeans with Eddie’s oversized jacket hanging down to your thighs, but you briefly feel as though you’re wearing nothing as you pull your arms out from around him and move to stand at his side instead, partially hidden from the crowd. 

Eddie wastes no time in curling his arm around your shoulders to keep you pressed into his side as he looks down at you. “Don’t even think about him. He’s a piece of shit, yeah?” 

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest as you eye the man’s back. “More like a heaping pile of shit,” you mutter and Eddie laughs, tilting his head down to press his lips to the side of your head. 

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles and your chest warms with his praise, no matter that it was at the degradation of another. 

You spend the next little while talking about whatever is on your mind and you eventually park yourself back in front of him, uncaring of the man from before now that a hundred more people have filled in the room behind him.

Eddie keeps one hand on you at all times, hooking a finger around one of your belt loops when you drift a little further away from him while you’re talking or dancing to the music filtering through the speakers around the room. He listens intently to everything you say but his eyes follow every man that walks past the two of you, particularly the ones that keep their gaze on you for a beat too long. 

Those are the moments when he pulls you back into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and lacing his fingers together at your lower back. You don’t know why he keeps doing it but you can’t complain when he looks down at you with so much love in his eyes you feel like you could burst. 

The crowd starts to get a little rowdy the closer it gets to showtime as there was no supporting act, and the next time he wraps his arms around you, he doesn’t let go. Your hands fiddle with the zipper on his jacket and his hands eventually fall to slide into the back pockets of your jeans, making your lips curl up into a smile as you speak. 

“Do you think we can stop for food on the way home?” You ask and he lets out a quiet laugh.

“You’re already thinking about that?” He teases since you both ate your dinner on the drive to the city, evidenced in the paper bags littered on the floor of his van. “Of course we’ll stop somewhere. Wherever you want.” 

“What a gentleman,” you quietly swoon and he smirks, enjoying the way you wrap your fingers around the ends of his hair, tugging softly on his scalp. 

You part your lips to speak again but get cut off when someone yells something from the back of the room, your gaze flitting up towards the seats. You turn your head and squint slightly when a familiar voice yells again, clearer the second time. 

“Eddie!” 

There’s a small group of boys waving their arms above their head in the first row of balcony seating, trying desperately to get the attention of the boy wrapped around you. It’s hard to tell, but you think you recognize Gareth and a few of his other friends. Dustin is standing at the end of the row, clearly the one yelling. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath and you glance back at him with a giggle as he lifts his hand up in a brief wave, so as not to draw any more attention to the two of you. “Even when we’re alone, they’re still just… lingering in the shadows.” 

The tiny smile curling at his lips tells you that he isn’t as annoyed as he’s making himself out to be and you look back up at the stands to see Dustin beaming at the fact that he was able to spot Eddie before the show. 

“I think it’s sweet,” you say as he promptly tucks his fingers back into your pocket and turns his back to the boys who were briefly spying on him. “You know how much that boy looks up to you.” 

You glance up over his shoulder and wave to Dustin to hopefully satisfy him enough to keep his lingering eyes on the stage for the entire evening. 

“Now this is going to be all he talks about for the next week,” he says and you smile with the shake of your head, bringing your hand to rest on his cheek. 

“Don’t be so grouchy about it, baby,” you say, your thumb tracing across his bottom lip when he juts it out in an exaggerated pout before pressing a kiss to your thumbprint. “You don’t always have to be so mean and scary when they’re around.” 

Your comment isn’t malicious and you’re grateful he doesn’t take it that way when he gasps and pulls your thumb between his teeth. You tug your hand away from his mouth and rest it on his chest as his brows pull together. 

“I’m not always mean and scary,” he mumbles and you purse your lips, giving him a sarcastic nod. “Just… sometimes. When they deserve it. Never with you, though,” he defends as your hand slides down his chest to sit against his waist, goosebumps rising up on his arms. 

You can’t help but smile at his comment, leaning into him with your eyes never leaving his. “Never with me. You buy me concert tickets and tell me I’m pretty and kiss me-” 

He squeezes your bum through your jeans and you let out a laugh as your forehead presses into his chest. “Damn right I do,” he mumbles.

You pull back to say something else but all of the lights suddenly cut out and your eyes widen as the entire arena erupts into ear piercing screams. 

“You ready?” Eddie leans down to ask in your ear and you nod, an eager smile tugging at your lips as you spin around in time for the opening chords of You’re Crazy to bounce around the room. 

It takes an hour and the band trailing into their second encore for them to play Sweet Child of Mine, making the crowd go wild.

You feel Eddie curl his arm around your shoulder, pressing softly into your chest to hold you against him. There’s a bright smile on your face when you turn to look up at him, his face illuminated every few seconds by the spotlight that passes over the crowd and the colourful lighting streaming into the audience from the stage. 

His lips pull upward in a lopsided grin as you beam up at him, his chest filling with warmth when you press a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t let you get far, lifting his hand to your jaw, keeping your head turned and capturing your lips completely. 

He kisses you until your head is spinning and you pull away with a quiet gasp to catch your breath, poorly attempting to hide the coy smile that frames your face. When he nudges you back to watch the band sing out your favourite song, his cheek comes to rest on the side of your head and you can just barely hear his voice floating into your ear, singing the words that make your heart swell in your chest. 

You’ve never been as happy as you are at this moment. 

His breath fans softly over your cheek, the vibration of his vocal chords buzzing across your skin when he dips down and his lips brush over your ear. The feeling sends tingles down your spine, threatening to beat out the heavy bass line that’s shaking the floor and sending vibrations up your legs. 

You close your eyes as he sways you to the music, your hands clutching tightly around his where it’s resting against your stomach, his rings icy against your hot and sweaty palms. You’re overwhelmed with joy and the amount of love you feel for the boy curled around you and you open your eyes when he says something that you can’t hear over the song. 

Before you can look up at him, your eyes widen as he drops his arm from around your shoulder and uses your tangled hands to spin you away from him. A squeal leaves your lips when he twists and twirls you back into his chest, your head tipping back as a loud laugh spills out of your lungs. 

Eddie’s eyes are filled with complete adoration as you stumble into him, pressing your hands against his chest and biting your lip to hide your giggles. His hands grab your wrists and tug your arms to wrap around his neck, your chest pressing into his and his foot sliding between yours. 

He can’t find anything to complain about when you immediately stand on your toes to kiss him for a second time, sliding one of your hands into the back of his hair and curling your fingers around the strands. He has little care in the world for who might be watching the interaction, but is still a little surprised at your not-so-subtle display of affection, especially after someone whistled at the two of you earlier in the night. 

You kiss him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, tasting the lingering flavour of nicotine on his tongue, enjoying the way his bangs brush against your forehead and how he drags his hands down to squeeze the flesh of your bum over your jeans. His grip tightens when you moan into his lips and press your hips into his, letting yourself get lost in the moment as the song plays out like the perfect soundtrack to your love.

His lips are slightly chapped as they move over yours and you’re reluctant to pull back even when your lungs squeeze in your chest and he starts to smile against you. 

Eddie is the one to pull away when you accidentally let a heavy breath escape from your lungs, and he knocks his forehead into yours, shutting his eyes as he catches his own breath. 

You can’t really see him in the dark until he pulls away and catches the soft smile on your face as you sink back down onto your heels and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek on his chest. He smooths his hands over your back, sitting his chin on the top of your head and hugging you tightly as you listen to the crowd scream along to the lyrics that the band leans into, Axl peeling his microphone from the stand and pointing it towards the audience. 

When the song eventually trails off into its inevitable close, you don’t move from your spot around Eddie, spending the rest of the encore cuddled against him and quietly singing along to the last one you know, sandwiched between two covers. 

Eddie knows that your adrenaline and excitement is worn out when you turn your head up to meet his gaze, lip jutting into a small pout as soon as Guns N’ Roses announce their final song for the night. 

Already dreading the amount of traffic he’ll have to fight through to get the two of you home, he leads you towards the exit but stays for the remainder of the song so that you don’t miss a single word. After a couple of minutes, you glance up at him and nod towards the hallway behind you, content to leave even despite the music still blasting through the room. 

He steers you out of the arena before the major crowds of people could clobber you from the floor and the sudden shift in volume when you make your way further away from the music leaves you feeling a little like you’re in a dream as a wave of exhaustion hits you. 

It’s still busy in the winding hallway of the arena and Eddie nudges you in front of him, keeping his hands secured around your shoulders to guide you through the crowd, practically beelining towards the front door. 

He almost knocks you right onto the floor when you stop abruptly in your tracks near the stand of merchandise. 

“I want a shirt.” 

You turn to look at him and he glances at the slowly growing line of people and the piles of shirts getting sparse, sighing through his nose. He knows he shouldn’t have listened to you when you insisted that you wanted nothing, but he can’t be mad at the hopeful look in your tired eyes.

“Really?” He asks and you nod. 

He flickers his gaze up to a small group of teenagers standing in the line, huddled in a circle and paying no mind to their surroundings. As soon as the man in front of the group steps ahead in line, Eddie pushes you forward to slide discreetly in front of the teenagers, making you gasp at the sudden movement. 

“Eddie-”

“Shh, s’fine,” he mumbles, not bothering to glance at the group behind him, still chattering away in blissful ignorance. “We’d be here all night and leave with nothing otherwise.” 

You curl around him again, resting your chin on his chest as you look up at him.

“Tired?” He asks, bringing his hand up to your cheek and brushing your hair back when you nod.

“My hearing is all fuzzy.” 

Eddie slides both of his hands to the sides of your head, brushing his thumbs over your ears. “Should’ve let me bring those earplugs I offered,” he says but you shake your head, brows dipping together. 

“I wouldn’t have worn them.” 

He smiles, smoothing his thumb over the wrinkle in your brow. “If I take you to any more concerts, you’re wearing them, darling.” 

You grumble something under your breath that makes him laugh and you rest your cheek back on his chest, letting him shuffle you backward every time the line inches forward at a snail’s pace. 

The shirt you want isn’t sold out by the time you reach the table and Eddie buys you one, getting himself one to match. Before you can leave the building, you stop in a quiet corner to peel off your jacket and throw on the t-shirt over the one you’re already wearing. 

“Happy?” He asks when you look down at the Guns N’ Roses logo covering your chest and you nod. 

“Yes. Thank you, Eds,” you beam, hugging him tightly before he pulls away to drape his denim jacket back over your shoulders, the fabric draping down past your hands. 

“You’re welcome. Need anything else before we leave?” He checks as he swiftly does up the buttons of his jacket to keep you warm, but he’s thankful when you shake your head and take the hand he holds out for you. 

He glances at his watch to see it’s a little past 11:30pm and he silently wishes that he would’ve caved and got a hotel in the city for the night. 

“Can we go home now?” You ask when you finally walk out of the building and the brisk night air prickles at your face. 

“Yeah, baby, we’re going home,” he says, weaving through the parking lot to where his van is parked. 

He helps you into the van with his hands on your hips before getting into the driver's seat and cranking the heat, tugging his seatbelt over his chest. 

“That was so much fun,” you say through a happy sigh when he pulls out of the parking space to get into the line of cars waiting to get out of the lot. 

“Yeah?” He glances at you and you nod, tucking your hands between your thighs. “What was your favourite part?” 

“Being with you, I think,” you reply, voice quiet as you turn to look out the window. 

Eddie feels his cheeks flush as he pulls his lips to the side to hide the smile that threatens to form on his face, his hand coming down to rest on your thigh with a tiny squeeze. 

You stay awake long enough for Eddie to buy you McDonalds, and happily munch on the fries in your hand, feeding him a few every couple of minutes until the carton is empty. You keep quiet conversation when he finally gets onto the highway, an hour long drive back to Hawkins ahead of him, but it only takes about twenty minutes for your words to trail off into one-word replies as the rumble of his tires against the asphalt threatens to lull you to sleep. 

It’s only when you haven’t said a word in ten minutes that he looks over to see you fast asleep, his jacket now acting as a cushion between your head and the door after you pulled it off to drape over the front of you like a blanket. 

He opts to keep the radio off for the remainder of the drive, finishing off your Coke to keep him awake. 

When he finally pulls into the trailer park, he winces and slows down the van as the gravel road crunches loudly under his tires until he pulls up onto the grass in front of his trailer. The light is on inside and he knows that Wayne is still up, despite Eddie’s insistence that he don’t wait up for them. 

You’re still asleep when he rounds the front of the van to pull your door open, unclicking your seatbelt and setting the crumpled ball of his jacket in your lap. Not wanting to wake you just to get you inside, he curls his arms around your back and under your legs and lifts you off the seat, slamming the door shut with his elbow. 

Your head lulls to rest on his shoulder, a deadweight in his arms as he makes his way towards the front door which opens before he can walk up the steps, Wayne appearing in the doorway, dressed in a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt. 

“Didn’t have to wait up,” Eddie says as he climbs the steps and Wayne rolls his eyes, holding the door open as he carries you inside. 

“And how do you propose you would’ve gotten the door unlocked?” 

Eddie mumbles something inaudible under his breath as he kicks off his shoes. 

“How was the show?” Wayne offers as he locks up behind the two of you. 

“Fucking amazing,” he replies quietly. “I had the time of my life.” He glances down at your sleeping figure before briefly flicking his eyes up to his uncle. “I’ll tell you more tomorrow… Night, Uncle Wayne.” 

“Goodnight,” Wayne says with a tiny smile as Eddie spins on his heel to carry you into his bedroom.

You finally stir when Eddie is tugging your jeans down your legs to change you into something more comfortable and he glances up at you when you let out a quiet groan. 

“Eddie?” 

He smiles, leaning over you with his hands pressing into the bed as he presses a kiss to your cheekbone. “We’re home, sweets. I’m just getting y’out of your jeans.” 

“Okay,” you mumble, mostly still asleep and not helping at all as he pulls the band shirt over your head, keeping you in the one you wore to the show. 

You do eventually move so that he can get you under the covers and you peel your eyes open, squinting in the light as he gets himself ready for bed, tugging his shirt over his head and shoving his jeans to the floor to deal with tomorrow. 

“Hey, Eds?” You murmur from your spot in his bed and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow as he slides his rings from his fingers to drop onto his nightstand. “Thank you for taking me tonight. It was the best night of my life.” 

He smirks, softly shaking his head as he flicks off the light before climbing into bed beside you and pulling you into his chest. 

“I’m glad that you had such a good time. Tell me all about it in the morning, yeah?” 

You nod with a hum, burying your face into his chest. “Love you lots, Eddie.” 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

[daenystheedreamer]

faith dashboard simulator

💙 maidenlover Follow

its actually so faithphobic that so called "friends of rhaena" have appropriated maiden devotion... it sexualises a very personal relationship with a real facet of the seven that many of us have ACTUALLY DEVOTED OUR LIVES TO

⚢ rhaelissatruther

girl you forgot to private your likes you're one of us

💎 mothermaidenhoe

🕯️traedwyfe Follow

🎶 red orange yellow green blue indigo purples in the sky

summer's in the air and baby, seven heavens' in your eyes 🎶

#the rainbow faith #rainbow not rhaena #laena of dell rae AKA the lady bard #dollaette #coqaette #faithofthesevenedit #please i'm a star #septa urge #lady manipulator #light acaedaemia

⚔️ knightofthefaith

FUCK they're sending me to be the septon of the night's watch... girl you know what they do to sexy slender wide eyed septons like myself!!!

#PRAYING theyre sexy murderers not uggo ones... manifesting

⭐️ brideofhugor Follow

No. You know what? F*** Y'ALL.

As many of you know I have recently been assigned to a certain castle in the stormlands and have been aiding the maester in reorganising the large library.

I just found several illuminated manuscript of an er*tic nature detailing s*xual acts of septas and septons. Including one of Hugor (blessed he be) Himself.

I don't expect much of you SINNERS (we all know of the recent poll circulating...) but sexualising those who devote themselves to loving only the gods... and crucially making the choice to remain celibate in this mission... the audacity. Enjoy the Seven Hells!

🫦 swordinyourstar

im gonna go to a septry fuck all those bald brothers so hard the hair in their tonsures grow back cos my seed is THAT strong

#why are they called holy brothers if im not supposed to fuck their holes

🔘 old-friends-senior-seven-septry-deactivated-101AC

I just want to get dicked down again =/

🌠 faith-struggle-posts

official faith struggle post

🌟 starrysepta

i do finally feel at home finally out of my noviciate and as a full septa of the faith but they do NAWT tell you how catty your sisters will be... they sent me to a motherhouse in the WESTERLANDS just outside of lannisport 💀 if another one of these fake bitches tries currying favour with house lannister im gonna get myself sent to the silent sisters.

🌟 starrysepta

beheading myself omg another suspiciously blonde-haired green-eyed hill surname haver has joined the noviciate please mother above get me reassigned to the vale id rather risk getting stolen by a mountain clansmen over having to deal with this whore

#girl he's not gonna legitimise you #and she's having an affair with the laybrother too but like whatever im not a lickspittle

🪽 rivermaiden

the mother of my motherhouse 100% got dicked by our local lord back in the day maybe now too and its ruining my life. she keeps speaking in metaphors about the warrior entering the maiden and its making everyone soooo uncomfortable. AND he's the lord of a certain castle in the riverlands stars with h ends in arrenhal and i swear he's bringing the fucking demons into our sept everytime he visits

#cryyyyingggg i survived the riverlands for one-and-twenty years only to die of blood curse cos knights love chasing septa pusswah omg cant have shit in the riverlands

🌈 septa-septon-suggestions Follow

forever hoping that the light of the seven will one day shine over all westeros ✨

🍁 hearttreehugger Follow

don't go near any weirwoods bitch im watching you 👁️

[dumbkiri]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 6

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ρℓσт: your vision of death haunts your dreams and the more you sleep, the more you see and feel. getting closer to the event, you know that xaden has something to do with your sacrifice. his choice between you and violet will either kill you or save you. and you don't know which choice leads to you living.

ησтє: again the timeline is different from FW and I need to change some things to fit you (our lovely mc) into the story that literally involves a romantic relationship between Xaden and Violet.

also! I don't know whether to make MC still have a complicated relationship with xaden or have her fall in love with another male in FW (bodhi, ridoc, brennan, etc) seriously there are a lot of males to choose from. so I'm leaving the choice to you, my readers! it's your story!

also since Amber Mavis signet isnt really a thing, I gave her an OP one, but girlie is dead soooooooo doesnt matter anymore

NOT PROOFREAD! WILL BE MISTAKES! LOOKING FOR BETA READERS! MESSAGE ME IF INTERESTED!!!

down.

down.

down you go. 

Fall and fall until your breath is gone. Only then will you ascend to be the daughter you were meant to be. A crown of light and a cloak of darkness is your fate to carry the rest to their gates. Maiden of the Moon, you are the daughter that tames the tidal waves. 

down.

down.

down you go. 

……

The moon. 

It’s always the moon that greets you it seems. With its blue gaze on your falling body, the slow motion of it all devours your aching wounds and swallows you inch by inch. You watched your kunai in your weak grasp painted in blood with a feeling of pride. Then regretfully your digits release it, your only weapon discarded in the sky as you begin to fall faster. 

The [f.color] kunai waved its goodbye to you and a tear left your eyes. Your choice of weapon has always been a dagger, and this unique one allowed you to use it as it was meant to be and as a fidget. You could spin your kunai with your finger while you study, spin it while you ranted to Imogen or while flights on Lenin took longer than usual. You remember Sloane begging for one of your kunais saying that they looked cool. 

You promised her that you would give her one when she proved her worth at Basgaith and bonded to a dragon. But you can’t do that now. They’re going to burn everything you owned, from your drawings, to your wooden figurines and now your daggers. 

You’re still falling? You thought that right about now, your body would have smacked into branches or trees. Maybe even a lake. Yet you felt your body freeze in the cold. Stagnant. Unmoving. 

Then your body jerked and you resumed your descent. All of this, your surroundings and your feelings felt familiar in an eerie sense. You’ve seen this before. When Bodhi accompanied you in your room. When you woke up crying in Xaden’s arms telling him how you died. 

You know this feeling all too well. The dread in your stomach and the wind whipping at your body. This is when you die and you know your heroic death scares you. Yet you knew why you threw yourself into danger and you closed yourself out. 

What was the danger, [Name]? What was the cause of your fall? What was Liam doing?

Xaden’s voice demanded answers and now this time you can find them. For now, he knocked you out of your acceptance. Here you are investigating your death and the cause of it. 

You forced the fear at the back of your mind, taking in your surroundings and watching the vision play. You willed yourself to pay attention to every detail despite this scene playing out your death. 

Someone is yelling your name. No, multiple people are. You can hear their voices carry in the raging storm, from females to males, to your own dragon. 

 Lightning streaks the sky in a rhythm you couldn’t follow. Uncontrolled. Right. It’s raining, actually pouring like a catastrophic storm and you took notice that you didn’t wear your flight goggles. It explains how your vision wasn’t actually smeared with rain drops. Just…fading out. 

You can hear the sounds of dragon roars and other roars that sounded similar but deeper in their throat. In the light the moon provided and the lightning striking across the sky, it was a full on battle in the skies. No sight of gryphons. 

They are out of the equation. Yet because of their lack of involvement, a chill ran down your spine. The sound of a wyvern and their screeching venin calling you out with a word that sounded like…witch.  

Move your body. Will your mind move your body if you keep yelling at yourself?

“Dagger!” 

You felt your heavy eyes watch the moon, too occupied with the feeling it gave you. A sense of completeness. Then the ghostly women and their whispers came back. Rushing in your ears, chanting their wicked words reminding you that you were going to die. 

down. down. down you go. 

Your story is over and your body started to feel numb with the cold rain that splattered against your exhausted figure. The danger…it’s still ongoing. You killed one. You know you did, yet another one lived. All that mattered was going after the one that went after your brother.

Liam. 

You sacrificed yourself to save him. What is the danger? Why the battle? Is it an exercise that went deadly? Or perhaps a mission that went south? Fuck, everything is all blurred in your head. The feelings of you experiencing the vision and the you of the vision confused you. 

It’s wyvern and venin. The you in the vision confirmed that for you. It’s not a training exercise, it’s not war games. It’s not a mission gone south. The two versions of you, the present and the future felt different from one another. 

The you now…you weren’t ready to die. You wanted to ignore this possibility. You wanted to live and see the plans Xaden had succeeded. You didn’t want to leave your siblings behind or leave your devoted dragon alone on the battlefield. 

But the you in the vision knew something about Xaden. Even the mention of him made the Vision you seethe with her teeth clenched tightly. Is it because she was mad at the ill attempt Liam made to save Violet. 

Violet. Now you know why Liam was in danger. Because of the bodyguard task Xaden gave Liam, your brother tried to help her. You stepped in to save him while he saved her from the present danger. 

“Dagger, wake up!”

You have to see if your sacrifice was in vain or not. You have to know that you died saving your brother. Your stomach twisted with a pain you couldn’t yet comprehend although that jolt of the unknown feeling made your eyes open wide. Then with your last strength to keep them open you saw a red dragon fly above you, with your cloak falling off of it like a blanket caught in the wind. 

“[Name]! Hang on!” Liam shouted above you and he seemed okay. 

He’s okay. Alive and well. 

You smiled in relief, feeling blood rise in the back of your throat and coughed it out with painful breaths. Liam is alive. Sloane won’t be stuck with you. She’ll have him next year, leading her through all the obstacles and trials of being a rider. 

“Dagger, wake up!” 

You can’t. Not even if you wanted to. Your body relaxed with the last of its energy leaving you and you knew this was your time. All of it spent to see Liam and Deigh safe and sound. You did your job. You protected your brother with your signet, allowed him and Deigh to escape the…escape what…what was the danger? 

Hmm…whatever it was….you don’t want to think about it. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and sleep. Yes, you welcomed sleep as the moon held you in its sad gaze. 

Your only hope is that your brother remembers you as the sister who loved him enough to sacrifice herself for him. Not as the sister who cursed at him or hated him at their last conversation together. Because he wasn’t to blame for your anger. 

No, you had to give credit where credit was due. 

…….

“[Name], I need you to open your eyes.” 

Xaden, voice strained and desperate, rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. His gentle touch and his disheartened tone woke you out of your vision. Although you didn’t wake as easily as you thought you would. You groaned in your bed and tried to move your lips, but your body felt so stiff. You couldn’t even will your eyes to open.

At your discomfort, you felt Xaden clench your hand in his and his other hand caressed your face. “Hey, I’m here with you,” He encouraged, focusing on the furrow of your brows and tense jaw, “and you’re here with me. You have to relax, you’re not in danger.” 

You can still feel the sensation of falling. You hadn’t stopped falling yet. Liam. Remember me. 

“Remem…” Your eyes squeezed tighter, “Remember..me.” 

“I’m here with you,” Xaden repeated, his hand moving from your face down to your shoulder to shake you lightly. “Open your eyes, [Name]. I haven’t seen them in a week. Please let me know that you’re okay.” 

A week. 

“Dagger, take your time.” Lenin softly hummed in your head and his voice gave you the comfort you needed so badly. He was still here. Along with Xaden. You have to tell him what you saw. 

But you can feel sleep coming for you again, the unknown women’s voices singing all around you in their ghostly whispers. 

“Vision,” You mustered out, “Death. Me.”

“The same vision?” Xaden questioned and you squeezed his hand back for a yes. “Can you tell me what happened? A battle? Enemies? Anything.”

“Liam tries to save Vi…” 

Suddenly, you stopped speaking. Like someone sewed your mouth shut and you heard the women getting louder. A coldness hovered over your body and you let it embrace you. It wiped away the warmth from Xaden, muffled his words of encouragement. 

Your whole body relaxes, the grip you had on Xaden loosening up. Sleep has taken you in her hold again making you relive the vision in its entirety this time. 

……

VIOLET’S POV

“How is Lenin doing today?” 

“What do you think?” Tairn replied with annoyance thrumming in my head, his voice deeper in his agitation. 

“Sorry for asking all the time, but I’m concerned. [Name] has been in this coma for months. Xaden and the rest are more broody than normal and don’t get me started on Dain.” I focused on the spinning dagger on my finger watching it move smoothly and lethally. Well not in my hands, in [Name]’s hands this dagger moved like it had been an extension of her. She flicked this dagger with precise movements allowing it to spin on her finger, her knuckles or her bouncing knee. 

“Lenin sleeps all day!” Andarna added with her childish voice ringing in my head. And a quiet chuckle left my lips because this feathertail could tell me anything. Things Tairn obviously wanted my knowledge of it nonexistent. Although I could not ask about her. What Dain did to her. What Liam is going through worrying about his older sister. Saying he should have been hanging out with her more. Train with her. 

Then there was Xaden. My heart plummeted to my stomach seeing how he was holding up. Which is barely. He stuck to the shadows more often than not and visited her with Nolon any chance he got. Xaden spoke to Sgaeyl more than he did to his actual friends and team. Drifting off in his conversations with her and probably having her relay what Lenin knows, if anything at all. 

When Xaden came back, holding an unconscious [Name] close to his chest with his eyes searching for Nolon and healers, I could tell something had been terribly wrong. Even Lenin’s humming echoed throughout the flight field for days haunted my dreams. A man waiting for his…girlfriend to come back to him. A dragon waiting patiently for his rider to wake up from her dreams.  

“But he said she woke up for a bit. He’s trying his best to balance her.” Andarna chirped up. And I knew her hopefulness came from either Sgaeyl or Tairn. Getting the younger dragon not to worry about her sibling made more sense. Yet if Lenin truly did sleep for months just like his rider, he must be deteriorating in health. Neglecting his hunts isn’t something [Name] would want for her dragon. 

“Tairn, what does Andarna mean by that?” I ask. 

Tairn huffed, “It means she needs to stop bothering her brother. Cloak is dreaming, Silver One. It’s what you humans do when you sleep.” Yeah, he wasn’t wrong about that. I pushed the dream I had of Xaden and I to the back of my mind, drowning it in a pit. There is nothing going on between Xaden and I. Maybe just a bit, but with [Name]’s unexpected coma and the future trouble it brings to the Marked Ones…we haven’t actually spent any time together. 

“Well then, how are you and Sgaeyl doing? I haven’t felt…anything from you guys in a while.” 

“Our son is in a deep slumber and you think we’d engage in any sort of intimacy with one another while he suffers in his silence?” 

“Right. I-I don’t know why I asked that.”

“If you want Shadow to see you then make it happen. Don’t taint what I do with my mate with your ideas.” 

Then Tairn was gone. That was super embarrassing because that’s not at all what I intended to come out of the conversation. But he is right. Why would Sgaeyl, hopelessly protective of her son, want to have sex with her partner when her boy was suffering? In his silence, said Tairn. Lenin is keeping his parents out of the loop. This dragon wasn’t going to share anything with his parents until he had the full story. 

Then again [Name] has missed so much. She’s so out of the loop, I’m not sure I can tell her everything, especially Liam’s near death experience.  From Jack Barlowe kicking my ass, to me saving Liam then killing Jack for the whole fight. Channeling my signet. Liam channeling his signet. I missed her training me, I miss her glares and her insults. And the rare occasions when she would smile at me. I stared at the kunai with slouched shoulders and sighed loudly. 

“I need to apologize to her. If anything happens to her…I need to get this off my shoulders.” 

This meaning the blame I put on her for letting the unbonded in my room. The way I had her friends question her motives. 

I grabbed my flight jacket and stormed out of my room with quick and light steps. Surely Nolon will allow me to visit [Name] at this time. My boots barely made any noise on the steps leading to [Name]’s room. After months of monitoring her, Nolon gave the okay that she could rest in her room. Some people had access to her room while others were strictly forbidden to go near, like Dain and the unbonded. 

I kept close to the shadows on the wall, ignoring the light that came from the moon outside. Then when I found her room, I hurried over to the door and walked right in. Earlier in the months, when Nolon allowed [Name] to rest in her room, Xaden warded the room to certain people. Luckily, he accepted me as a trusted friend of [Name]’s. 

Her mage light flicked on right when I shut the door behind me and I sighed in relief. Her room always brought a sense of belonging for some reason. Like there was this constant safety blanket over me. Definitely not her cloak because that always washed over me like cold water. 

I slipped my jacket off and settled it down on a chair with a huff. Then I brought my attention to her sleeping peacefully in her dreams. She was covered in multiple blankets, her head surrounded by pillows. I’m assuming Imogen sleeps on the floor sometimes with those extras. Which means I better make my visit quick. Any of them could walk in and check in on her. 

I sat myself on the chair next to her bed and sucked in a deep breath. Come on, she’s sleeping. It’s better to do this than tell her when she’s actually awake. Go, Violet. Say it. 

“I’m sorry for making you suffer like this,” It’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

“I know that bonding to Tairn seemed impossible, like how everyone told you that bonding to Lenin was a crazy idea. They both weren’t supposed to choose us somehow. But they did anyway. You trained all your life to become a dragon rider, to live another day. I wanted to be like my father, a scribe. And now, here I am speaking to one of the most badass females I ever met in my life.”

Fuck, where am I going with this?

“I never wanted to be a rider, but when Tairn chose me. I don’t know, I felt like I proved everyone wrong. Like how you prove to everyone that you are a lethal rider with one of the biggest dragons. So I wanted to be like you. I wanted to fight like you, speak like you with confidence. To have a powerful signet. To have his attention like you.” 

Maybe I shouldn’t say that last part. My feelings for Xaden have to be kept to myself. 

“Anyways, I came here to apologize to you. I know you don’t remember, but when I bonded to Tairn I became a target. One night, someone let unbonded riders into my room hoping that they’ll kill me. I saw them for a brief moment like a shimmer when the rest attacked me. Xaden was the first to help me and when he questioned me with Garrick and Bodhi by his side, I let my words slip.”

Yeah, here it goes. The whole story. The truth and my guilt. 

“I told him that the person who let these unbonded in my room had a shimmer around their body. Like a cloak. That’s when he snapped at me, telling me that you would never do that to him. That your jealousy couldn’t have been that petty to put his life in danger. And I said that I saw the cloaked person leave like nothing. Bodhi tried to make sense of it, but Xaden’s fury was unmatched to any reason. He told them to meet you at your door after they woke up Imogen. He didn’t care about being seen with them, more than three because he needed to know. I saw the hurt in his eyes and I- I watched them leave after he made sure I was okay.” 

[Name] didn’t even stir at the information I decided to dump on her. No reaction to her peaceful expression. No twitch of her fingers or toes. Just the steady rise and fall of her chest. 

“Turns out, it wasn’t you. Imogen told us that your cloak doesn’t shimmer. Not after all the hard work you did to make it invisible to the eye. So with further investigation, Xaden and the rest pinned the blame on Amber Mavis after seeing her use your signet for her own gain. Her signet allowed her to copy others and she chose yours.”

I moved my eyes to her lips which parted with soft breaths leaving it. 

“She died. And you asked Imogen to erase your memories. Because your friends trusted me more than they did you. They trusted a word of an outsider more than the ones that left your mouth and you are technically family to them. I wanted to apologize way earlier, but Lenin had other plans. Imogen and Bodhi told me that you would refuse to teach me anything if you knew the truth. So I kept my mouth shut.” 

I reached out to her uncovered hand and held it in my own. Is it bad to say that I missed when she would grab my hand and flip me around on the sparring mat? I need her back to keep me going, to teach me everything she can. 

A groan snapped me out of my trance and I looked up in surprise to see [Name]’s eyes flutter open. For second, her blue eyes changed to lilac. The pretty purples looking around her room then shutting them again. When she opened her eyes again they were back to blue. 

“Vi…Violet?” She sounded confused and her grip on my hand tightened. 

“[Name], are you…are you really awake?” I asked dumbfoundedly, perhaps thinking I was in some kind of dream too. 

“I think I am,” She said in a whisper, not believing that she was either, “How long was I out for?” 

How should I let her down easy? I hummed and said quietly, matching her volume, “Well in two days is the Reunification Day. Uh, it’s been months, but don’t worry you didn’t miss a lot.” 

“Alright then,” [Name] calmly responded and released my hand. I was expecting a harsher or more dramatic response, but she seemed withdrawn. I don’t think I was the first person she wanted to wake up to. 

“I can get Xaden for you, he’s been waiting for you to wake up ever since the challenge with Dain and that other third year.” I say, hoping to get her out of her bed or to get more of a reaction from her. Instead she looks at me with tired eyes and says, “I’ll be alright. I’m going to sleep some more.” 

“No!” I shouted and jumped up from my seat, “What happened to you? You know you can tell me anything, right? I promise I can get Xaden here in a second. He really wants to know that you’re okay.” 

Quickly I reach out to Xaden, closing my eyes tightly and searching for him, “She’s awake! You have to get here quickly!” 

“I’m on my way! What has she said?” Xaden responded instantly, his voice sending shivers down my spine. 

“Nothing, but she wants to sleep some more!” 

“Keep her awake, Violence!” He ordered. The nickname, I haven’t heard him call me that in some time now. 

I opened my eyes and felt creeped out by how intensely she was staring at me. Then [Name] sighed, turning her back on me. She pulled her blankets higher, up to her shoulders and snuggled into her pillows. 

“Don’t worry, Violence,” [Name] said almost in a mocking way, “I will wake tomorrow. I’m almost done seeing how everything turns out.” 

Then she closed her eyes and fell right back to sleep. But I stood in my place absolutely dumbfounded by her choice of words. Violence. Seeing how everything turns out. Her words seemed to ring with truth, not some kind of joke. Or the delirious waking of her coma. 

[Name] Mairi is going to wake up tomorrow. And she’ll know how everything will turn out. 

“Tairn, how is Lenin doing now?” I asked and three beats of silence went by before I got my answer. 

“He’s waking up with a few changes to his appearance.” 

Great, now I need to know how this happened. 

..............................

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬:

@luvly-writer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @honethatty12 @poeticbookwormcat @cheappremingerfromdelululand @eep500 @littlepippilongstocking @86laura11 @lxnvmvrzx @what-will-be-your-verse @sheblogs @fangirling-galore @callsigns-haze @side-angel @faeofthemoonandstars @jesschalamet @abysshaven @bisexualbitchsgotass @books-hlmc @r0sluvs @galaxystern08 @bwormie @littleemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @steph-fowlie

if I missed anyone, please let me know! Send me a DM or something because I lose your names in all the activity! Making me go fishing for y'all

[oh-wiw]

✦ Masterpost ✦ Part 2 ✦

A lost composer

You woke up with a gasp, body filled with sweat. You got hit. You know you did, but now you're surrounded by grass and trees. The plants seemed to be illuminated a blue hue, with the night sky. 

You immediately stand up and wondering where exactly you are, only to be met with the night sky.

You were expecting the usual void. The ink-black dome that has always stretched overhead like a ceiling smeared with charcoal. No shimmer. No depth. Just emptiness.

But tonight the sky is alive.

✧✧✧✧✧

At first, it's almost overwhelming, then you feel awe and then grief. It was slow and haunting, settling in your chest as if it was its home.

That dull throb of missing, of mourning, of remembering. But you don’t let it rise. Not tonight.

You push it down.

You ignore the feeling and focus on your present. As you walk through the strange, beautiful world, eyes forward, steps steady. There’s so much to see, so much to do than tto mourn whatever you are.

You begin to walk, and as you take in your surroundings. The sight of Fatui agents and hilichurls scattered in the distance. Then it finally clicks: you’ve somehow ended up inside the very game you used to play.

Driven by caution, you sneak around and manage to swipe a few things: just a cicin mage’s mask, some mora and just enough rations to get by. Later, you stumble across an abandoned kimono and a worn farmer’s hat. They're not much, but they'll help you blend in.

You walked until you stumbled upon a small village. With the mora you had taken, you bought a cheap bamboo flute. While it's mostly something children use, you know how to play a tune expertly. The villagers toss you a coin or two when you perform, and you end up staying in Konda village for a while. Eventually, you manage to catch a ride on a carriage heading to Inazuma City.

Arriving at the city the carriage rolled to a stop, guards eyeing every newcomer with practiced suspicion. You stepped down quietly, keeping your head low beneath the frayed brim of your hat, clutching your pack tightly, the weight of your stolen and modest goods. Hoping the guards wouldn't know.

The streets of Inazuma City is buzzed with activity: Merchants calling out their wares, patrons going on their business, children playing around and guards patrolling.

Finding a quiet corner near a bustling market square, you slipped underneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree and took out the cheap bamboo flute to play a tune. It was nothing of note, just a cover from an anime you watched. Yet it was clear enough to draw glances from passersby and some even giving a spare coin or two.

You do this for weeks, returning each day to the same quiet corner beneath the cherry blossom tree, its petals drifting gently around you. With your bamboo flute in hand, you play different tunes each day but most of them are covers from themes of a game or from shows you watch.

At first, it’s just curious villagers and children who stop to listen, tossing a few mora your way before moving on. But over time, you manage to grow a crowd. A merchant pauses longer than usual. A shrine maiden lingers on her way back to the Grand Narukami Shrine. Even a Tenryou Commission officer, in full armor, stops once, arms crossed, saying nothing, only listening.

It wasn't until the familiar faces of Inazuma began to approach you that you realized your quiet routine had stirred more than passing interest: 

One warm afternoon, as you finished a song beneath the cherry blossom tree, a cheerful voice called out. Thoma, smiling warmly. "Hey there," he said, crouching slightly to your level, "You’ve got quite the gift. How about joining me for some tea at the Komore Teahouse sometime? My treat." You blinked, caught off guard, but his invitation was genuine.

Days later you spot an eccentric fireworker, once you finished playing your tune. "Wow! That was amazing!" You look up to see Yoimiya beaming at you, her bright eyes practically sparkling. “Your music has such a warm feeling to it! The kids in the village would love it. You should come play for them sometime! What do you say?”

And recently, Arataki Itto himself stomped up, arms crossed and wearing his trademark grin. “Yo! Bamboo-flute traveler! We’ve been hearing about your tunes everywhere. But I bet you’ve never played TCG before, huh?” he declared proudly, holding up a new deck of Genius Invokation TCG cards. “Come chill with us! Loser gets to buy lunch!” He said handing you the deck.

You won, easily.

You spend your weeks beneath the cherry blossom tree, flute in hand, playing each day for whatever mora the townsfolk spare. It’s not a grand living, but it’s enough. Enough to buy the essentials and eventually, a small hand drum. You begin weaving it into your performances, adding rhythm to melody.

The mora trickles in bit by bit, but with time and persistence, you eventually gather enough to afford a ferry ride all the way to Mondstadt. You don’t need an encore to leave Inazuma with your flute and drum packed away, you set sail toward Mondstadt. 

Onto your next performance.

✧✧✧✧✧ 

Somewhere, both distant and intimately near, the Archons sat at a long white marble table. Five gods in silence, listening to the soft, wistful ballad played by the Wind Archon himself. In the center, slouched and indifferent, sat a figure who bore your face.

The Creator.

It had been centuries since the Creator last played a note, their silence explained away with soft explanations of “art block” and the absence of inspiration. The other Archons accepted it without question,each finding their own quiet way to offer encouragement or devotion. Hoping to spark something. Anything. That might lift the Creator’s hand to play again.

They wove festivals, built temples, composed songs and hymns in their honor, all in quiet reverence for the one who once shaped the world with sound. Yet it was only Barbatos who remained closest, never tiring in his effort.

Playing tune after tune, it was a burden he bore with a smile and a song, though weariness tugged at his soul. Still, he played for the chance, however slim, to hear the Creator’s music once more.

Until one evening in a tavern where Venti sat with a drink in hand, a small respite since the Creator is visiting the nation of dendro. He heard a melody, a melody he never heard before. Even with all his power knowing every piece of the past and future, he never once heard this kind of melody the wind sent him.

It didn’t have any lyrics but Venti hoped it was their Grace finally playing. Although curious enough, the melody was at Inazuma, not Sumeru. It made Venti question his sobriety. Was the wind playing a trick on him? Or something else?

But then came the next day. And the one after. Each time, a new melody danced through the breeze. No ordinary mortal could compose such sound, not with that quiet depth, that gentle command of emotion. It had to be them. Their Grace. Who else could stir the wind to stillness, make the world pause and listen? Only the Creator had ever held such power—to calm gods, to soothe storms, to make even silence sing.

Venti could no longer ignore it. Day after day, the melodies drifted in on the breeze—gentle, unassuming, but threaded with a power only he could recognize. Each note tugged at something ancient within him, something sacred. It had to be Their Grace. It must be. No bard, no scholar, no wandering soul could compose music that resonated with Teyavat itself.

It seems it's time to visit the land of electro.

✧✧✧✧✧ 

✦ Masterpost ✦ Part 2 ✦

a/n : Inspired by this song and mostly other sagau writings about the reader being a musician. I feel like I should do the ideas one idea at a time, but this is just something quick, no planning or whatever.