#but alas - the answers elude me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyvyinjie · 10 months ago

Text

JUST LIKE A DREAM.

TW! manga spoilers.

bittersweet! wistful.

t. muichiro x gn. reader.

HE FOUND HIMSELF ENSNARED IN THE RAPTUROUS EMBRACE OF A PLAIN, UNADORNED NOTEBOOK. its pristine pages beckoning him to whisper tantalizing secrets.

seating himself in the seiza style-his limbs folded gracefully—he wielded a quill like a maestro's baton, while his other hand languidly cradled his cheek-a solitary pillar of repose in the vast expanse of contemplation.

with a sigh of resignation, he embarked upon the wondrous dance between ink and parchment.

...hey.

he paused, his countenance adorned with a mask of impassivity, concealing a tempest of thoughts within.

why, he mused, did he feel compelled to extend his greetings to a humble sheet of paper?

yet, a flicker of ephemeral memory flickered through the corridors of his mind—a faint echo that whispered of customs and courtesies, of beginnings and origins.

though he found himself adrift in the enigma of it all, he yielded to the notion that a simple "hello" would serve as the key to unlock the labyrinth of his newfound routine.

anyways..

that butterfly lady gave me this.

i don't know why, she just did.

he blinked, his brows ascending with a subtle grace, as a revelation had alighted upon his consciousness like a silken butterfly.

i don't know why, she just did.

actually, i do.

she gave me this because she said that journaling..

it'd help me with my memories somehow.

if i recall correctly..she told me to write down anything i figured is worth noting, saying it'll help me 'treasure' it or something.

as he neared the culmination of his literary pilgrimage, he sighed yet again, his breath a gentle zephyr that whispered secrets to the dull room.

whatever. it doesn't matter.

the final words dripped like honey from his quill, an offering to the vast expanse of time and oblivion. yet, even as he penned the denouement of his day, a knowing knowledge clung to his intellect—one he had unfortunately grown accustomed to.

i'll forget about this, anyways.

on the contrary—to his own astonishment—he found himself ensnared within the confines of familiarity, as if destiny had conspired to recreate the tableau of days past.

an unexpected sense of accomplishment fluttered within his being, though he nonchalantly brushed it aside, for its allure held no sway over his seemingly impassive demeanor.

wow.

this again.

never thought i'd actually come back to this.

i guess that person was just so weird that i instantly went here subconsciously.

and yet—a query lingered, teasing the fringes of his consciousness.

how did he manage to recall the precise location where this artifact had been bestowed? his gaze faltered, searching the surroundings with an air of detachment, even as his countenance remained stoic and unyielding.

alas, pondering the intricacies of remembrance proved an exercise in futility.

the answer—it seemed—resided in the glorious mist of poorly scrapped away details.

in reality, for—in a moment of abandon-he had actually just left this vessel exposed upon the very table that bore witness to its initial unveiling.

with that profound comprehension nestled in the recesses of his clouded mind, he simply blinked before returning to the task of diligently jotting down the words he had momentarily paused, delicately inscribing the words that had eluded him mere seconds ago—fully aware that they would soon inevitably slip from his memory.

a pensive cloud descended upon his countenance, casting a shadow upon the dainty tapestry of his thoughts.

his brows, like twin sentinels of vexation, furrowed once more, mirroring the tumultuous musings that swirled within the depths of his mind.

speaking of which, what's their deal anyways?

he simultaneously pondered, his memory a fragmented mosaic that teased the edges of his recollection. who exactly was this vexing interloper that had managed to impede upon his path? the tendrils of remembrance danced just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly distant.

bothersome brat getting in the way like that.

the realization dawned, an ember of understanding amidst the haze. it seemed that this individual, by the mere virtue of their skills, bore the mark of a fellow demon slayer. though their intentions remained obscured, he acknowledged that their presence, even as an ally, posed an inconvenience.

yet, he couldn't help but acknowledge that the situation would have been far more dire had they been an unsuspecting civilian thrust into the fray.

"had I not intervened, you would've gotten hit instead."

the echo of their words reverberated within his mind like a daunting scene, conjuring a vivid portrait of their visage. a flicker of irritation danced in his eye, an involuntary twitch that betrayed his lingering frustration.

at least that weirdo refrained from whining and coercing me into helping them seek the aid of that butterfly lady.

even still—a veil of perplexity settled upon his thoughts, shrouding his mind in a haze of bewilderment. the actions of that imbecile confounded him, defying all logic and reason. how dare they insinuate that he lacked the agility to evade the blow? and even if he hadn't, was it not just another day, with the ebb and flow of danger an ever-present companion?

furthermore, the question lingered like a specter; why did they possess such fervent concern, enough to willingly absorb the impact intended for him? a cynical frown danced upon his lips, for he harbored a deep-seated suspicion that their motivations were rooted in a desire to don the mantle of heroism.

ordinarily, such trifling matters would have been dismissed with a mere shrug, relegated to the realm of inconsequential distractions.

and yet, that singular event, like a pebble tossed into a still pond, sent ripples coursing through the depths of his being. it stirred a dormant fire within him, kindling a smoldering embers of annoyance that refused to be extinguished.

the enigma of their actions gnawed at his consciousness, an incessant itch that demanded his attention. why did their interference provoke such a visceral reaction? what lay beneath the surface of his irritation? the answers eluded him, concealed in the murk of his own introspection.

eventually, a flicker of relief danced upon his countenance, as if a gentle breeze had brushed away the creases of consternation etched upon his features. for, in this fortuitous moment, salvation arrived in the form of ginko, his loyal companion, his assigned kasugai crow.

entering the room through the open window with a graceful flutter of ebony wings, the avian harbinger announced his imminent departure towards yet another mission, a clarion call that whisked away the tendrils of disquietude that had begun to take hold.

had he been pondering for that long?

he blinked, extending a hand adorned with purposeful gentleness, he bestowed upon ginko a few aimless caresses to the sleek feathers that adorned the crow's head. a momentary respite amidst the chaos, a fleeting connection between two souls bonded by the trials of their shared endeavors.

and then, with a seamless transition, his expression reverted back to its stoic neutrality, a mask of detachment that shielded the depths of his thoughts.

his gaze, once adrift and almost forgotten, refocused upon the near-forgotten notebook that lay before him—its pages, blank with very few words but brimming with the promise of untold tales, unlike before—it now beckoned him with an irresistible allure. who’s to say that this encounter, this outpouring of his thoughts upon its parchment, would be his last? the question lingered, suspended in the air, as if the notebook itself whispered of secrets yet untold.

however—a hint of exasperation tinged his thoughts once more, a testament to the minutes squandered upon this wearisome endeavor. the weight of time wasted settled upon his shoulders like an oppressive burden, threatening to drown him in a sea of regret. had that butterfly lady bestowed this upon him merely as a means to pass the hours in such a pitiful manner?

what’s with everyone pissing him off lately? a disapproving click of his tongue resounded, accompanied by an inward huff of frustration, as if to dismiss such thoughts as inconsequential.

yet, even as he brushed aside the notion, a lingering seed of doubt remained. the origins of this diversion, this seemingly trivial pastime, stirred a restlessness within him. but he swiftly quelled the rising tide of contemplation, for there were matters of greater import to attend to.

with a languid motion, his hand lazily fell back to his side, a symbol of resignation to the inevitability of his next mission.

ginko—ever attentive—observed his movements with unwavering focus through her beady eyes.

as he rose to his feet and walked away without a word, she hastened to follow, a silent guardian ensuring he treaded the correct path this time.

perchance, had he paid greater heed—he would have discerned the inadvertent significance he ascribed to that encounter.

possibly, if he could decipher his emotions amidst the shroud of negativity, he would come to comprehend the profound influence this ostensibly unavailing—or so he perceives it to be—undertaking continues to hold within the recesses of his hazy recollections.

a sense of weariness pervaded his being, his form slouched over the table in an exhausted posture. his arm, draped atop the surface, cradled his lower face in a gesture of weary surrender.

heavy-lidded eyes, devoid of their usual sharpness, stared blankly at the notebook before him, its pages a repository of familiarity and untapped potential.

his restless fingers found solace in the quill, an instrument of creation and expression. yet, instead of purposeful strokes, they engaged in aimless fiddling, a subconscious act of seeking comfort in the familiar. the quill danced between his fingertips, its weight and texture grounding him in the present moment.

as time trickled by, his hand slowly maneuvered with deliberate relaxation.

the quill hovered mere inches above the pristine expanse of the paper, its poised tip a conduit for the thoughts that swirled within his mind. the ink droplets within the quill began to fall, each one a testament to the passage of time and the stillness that enveloped him.

then, with a leisurely descent—the quill found its mark upon the page, leaving behind a trail of ink as he transcribed the words that lingered in his thoughts. beginning another silent conversation between the depths of his mind and the blankness of the paper.

if i had known that i’d be assigned with that idiot on the mission, i wouldn’t have even waited for their arrival.

eh. i guess they were somewhat useful..for baiting the demon.

the words upon the page bore the unmistakable mark of apathy, as if they had been woven with little to no effort. lines connected words haphazardly, yet he remained unperturbed by their disarray.

a mere blink was his response to the warm embrace of the rising sun's rays streaming through the window, causing him to momentarily shield his eyes. his lids fluttered, adjusting to the light.

shifting slightly, he raised his head, casting a glance towards the window. the sight of the morning's arrival beckoned his attention, a gentle reminder of the passing hours that had slipped away unnoticed.

would you look at that... it's morning already, and i haven't even managed a wink of sleep yet.

a yawn escaped his lips, an involuntary reflex brought forth by the weariness that engulfed him.

craning his head to the right, he raised a hand, fingers reaching out to massage the tense muscles at the back of his neck. the physical sensation provided a fleeting respite from the mental strain that weighed upon him.

tearing his gaze away from the luminous frame of light, his attention returned to the page before him.

the letters—now seemingly slid onto the page without care—formed words that appeared smudged or messy. yet, his response was one of detached observation, his eyes trailing along the inked lines as if merely skimming their surface. his mind adrift in a sea of fatigue and contemplation.

a wistful breath escaped his lips, carrying with it a tinge of reflection. to think that in the end, he found himself aiding them, joining forces with those he once regarded with a mix of skepticism and reservation. vague memories of their coordination and shared battles flickered in his mind, a testament to their surprising competence.

irony hung in the air, as he ever-so begrudgingly acknowledged the decency of their skill, granting them the credit they deserved.

but to say that he still harbored a grudge would be an overstatement. time had a way of blurring the sharp edges of resentment, softening the sting of past grievances.

he had moved on—or at least strived to do so—simply because he no longer wished to expend mental energy on such affairs.

of course, the reasoning behind their initial encounter still eluded him. the circumstances that had brought them together remained shrouded in mystery, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into the larger picture.

yet, despite this lack of understanding, he had chosen to extend his assistance.

it was a matter of reciprocity, an unspoken agreement that demanded the return of the favor. they had aided him, and so he, in turn, had done the same.

but let it be known that his actions were certainly not born out of deliberate intention. it wasn't a calculated decision to seek their gratitude or favor. no, he had been driven solely by his sense of duty, a commitment to vanquish the demon that had threatened their lives. their expressions of gratitude that followed were—in his perception—unwarranted and unnecessary.

don’t get him wrong, it wasn't a matter of rejecting their appreciation out of disdain or arrogance. it was simply a matter of perspective. he saw his actions as obligations fulfilled, his purpose aligned with the task at hand. the gratitude they offered was an unexpected byproduct, an outcome that held little significance in the grand scheme of his mission.

unbeknownst to him—his head gradually dipped lower, a subtle surrender to the weight of exhaustion. his eyes, utterly heavy with weariness, would occasionally flutter open, a futile effort to rouse himself from the encroaching grasp of sleep.

but little did he know, there existed a vast realm of his true intentions beneath the surface of his consciousness, waiting to be explored, waiting to unveil its secrets—a landscape of an undiscovered reality and hidden depths lay dormant, longing to be discovered.

yet, in his current state, he remained oblivious to the elusive wonders that lay within.

oblivious to the possibilities that awaited him, he continued to battle the encroaching embrace of sleep, unaware of the treasures that could be unearthed once he relinquished his conscious hold.

but perhaps, in due time, the mist would lift, and he would come to realize the vastness that lay hidden within, embracing the unknown with open arms and truly delving into the depths, and alas reaching a benevolent understanding of his own subconscious.

soon enough, he found himself absentmindedly twirling a petal between his fingers as he entered the room. his focus remained fixated on the delicate blossom even as his hand closed the door behind him, and even as he made his way towards the mirror.

gradually, he lifted his gaze, his eyes settling on the flower crown adorning his head. the sakura petals, masterfully intertwined, caught his attention, their beauty captivating his senses.

with an almost contemplative look, he then raised the petal he held to eye-level, keenly studying its intricate details.

of all people, who would have thought he'd be adorning something as whimsical as this? it seemed that over time, through some inexplicable force, he had found himself repeatedly crossing paths with an individual he had once deemed a nuisance.

bizzarely, he discovered that he often engaged in small conversations with them—or rather—they spoke while he found himself lost in his own thoughts as usual, staring at the wispy clouds.

however, that habit of his had not lasted long with them.

he recalled a time when he unexpectedly began sparing a not-so discreet glance for the person who stood beside him, whilst internally pursuing his own musings while they carried on with their activities.

perhaps it was because he secretly wished for their presence to vanish? he had made his feelings abundantly clear, even voicing his desire to be rid of them. yet, they stubbornly persisted, undeterred by his dismissive attitude.

and so, he had resigned himself to their constant presence, reluctantly accepting the fact that they would be a part of his daily life.

today, it was he who stumbled upon them—a reversal of their usual encounters.

he couldn't help but note the uncharacteristic silence that enveloped them, a departure from their usual chatter.

enveloped in a realm of heightened intrigue, his inquisitive spirit awakened. his gaze, like a wandering star, was drawn to the focal point that held their rapt fascination.

with an arched ascent, his eyebrows mirrored his amazement. majestically poised, a resplendent tapestry unfolded before him—a bountiful cherry blossom tree, its branches bedecked in resplendent blooms. the sakura petals—akin to balletic maestros—pirouetted gracefully through the air, composing a symphony of ethereal enchantment.

in that instant, he comprehended the rationale behind their entranced stare. the vision of the grand cherry blossom tree, its delicate petals dancing with elegance, possessed an irresistible charm that surpassed his customary indifference. it stood as a tableau of organic marvel, another spectacle capable of evoking a latent response within him, even if he had not fully embraced it until now.

blinking in a manner reminiscent of an owl, he returned to the present moment.

ultilizing both hands, he delicately removed the flower crown from his head. unusually, he handled it with an exceptional tenderness, treating it as though it were a fragile treasure he was determined to preserve with utmost care.

however, inexplicably, he decided to place it adjacent to his notebook. then, his attention shifted back to the petal he had held throughout the entire process, and a subtle downturn of his lips coupled with a slight furrowing of his brows betrayed his disappointment.

the petal appeared slightly crumpled... perhaps he should have focused on it first before removing the crown?

his head instinctively tilted as he contemplated the past. unbeknownst to him, the fact that he was investing such reflection into a... gift—as they had claimed it to be—went entirely unnoticed.

an idea flickered to life within the recesses of his mind, though it may not have been grand in scale.

with a sense of purpose, he resolved to safeguard this newfound notion within the pages of his trusty notebook instead of just noting them down much like the previous, yet now said to be countless of times he did so. it wasn't that he had no intention of exploring the idea further; rather, he held a silly belief that by preserving the delicate petal within its confines, he would be able to summon fragments of today's events whenever he cast his gaze upon it.

it was, undoubtedly, a risky endeavor.

the transience of memory and the fragility of moments made such attempts at preservation inherently uncertain. yet, undeterred by the potential pitfalls, he was determined to give it a try.

there was a spark of hope that momentarily alighted within his ever-so dull eyes as he carefully placed the petal between the pages, allowing it to find its place amidst the inked words and scribbled thoughts.

in his mind, the notebook was like a vessel of recollection, the doorway through which he could access the essence of that particular day.

with each passing glance, he believed he would be transported back to the sights, sounds, and emotions that had colored his experience. it was a belief steeped in a touch of magic, a genuine desire to capture the essence of fleeting moments and keep them alive in some tangible form.

of course, he understood the inherent risk of such an endeavor. memories could be fickle, subject to the passage of time and the distortions of perception—that he knew all too well, yet, he couldn't resist the allure of the notion, the tantalizing prospect of preserving a piece of today's events within the pages of his notebook.

thus, he closed the notebook—sealing the petal within its protective embrace. only time would reveal whether his whimsical idea would bear fruit. but for now, he carried a glimmer of anticipation, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found a way to capture the essence of the present and carry it with him into the future.

one day, on the verge of departing for the swordsmith village, he found himself casting a final glance around his room.

as his eyes scanned the space, they landed upon a particular object resting undisturbed on the table, alongside a vibrant, circular rosy crown. yet, his gaze lingered upon the sight of the flowers, a momentary pause in his preparations.

was there something he was forgetting?

he brushed off the thought, convincing himself that it was nothing of importance.

or was it?

perhaps a faint inkling nagged at the back of his mind, suggesting that there was more to it than he initially believed.

without realizing it—he was drawn across the room, his steps guided by an unseen force.

he found himself crouching down near the designated area, his hand reaching out to flip through the pages of his notebook. however, his action was halted as his eyes caught sight of a roseate petal nestled within the notebook's pages.

curiosity sparked within him, and he raised an eyebrow as he gingerly plucked the petal from its sanctuary. absentmindedly, he twirled it between his fingers, a gesture that felt oddly familiar, inducing a sense of déjà vu.

but where had he witnessed such a scene before?

as he pondered, a realization dawned upon him. It wasn't a memory of witnessing someone else engage in this action; rather, it was he himself who had performed it.

a surge of recollection washed over him, memories resurfacing from the depths of his mind. the twirling of the petal, the sensation between his fingertips—these were gestures he had made before, though their significance had slipped from his conscious grasp.

In that singular moment, the forgotten fragments of his own past intertwined with the present, weaving together a tapestry of connections that transcended time.

recognition dawned upon him with a sudden clarity. it was from that day—the day where a sensation so tender and poignant stirred within him, almost like a bittersweet ache, evoking a warmth that eluded his understanding, leaving him unable to grasp its true essence.

the memory resurfaced, vivid and potent, as he held the petal in his hand. it was a symbol—a relic that carried the weight of a significant moment, a moment that had shaped him in ways he had yet to fully comprehend.

as his gaze shifted between the delicate petal and the floral circlet, he couldn't help but acknowledge their significance. they were gifts, given to him by that same person whose presence had once been a source of annoyance, but had since become intertwined with his life in ways he never anticipated.

a subtle flicker of a smile danced across his features, fleeting yet unmistakable.

it was a ghost of a smile, evoking a sense of warmth and nostalgia. just like that very same day, beneath the sakura tree.

after a few more contemplative moments, he gently placed the petal back within the pages of his notebook. it was an act imbued with a renewed sense of curiosity and introspection.

as he carefully tucked it away, he recognized that this petal held more than just a fragment of his present—it also served as a tether to his past.

standing up, he straightened his attire, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed during his moment of reflection.

leaving the room behind, he stepped forward, his footsteps carrying him away from the familiar and towards the villa—yet, as he ventured forth, he carried with him the knowledge that within the depths of his own experiences, there were secrets waiting to be unveiled. these hidden truths, veiled within the recesses of his own identity, held the potential to guide him closer to understanding who he truly was.

muichiro’s brows knit together, his eyes narrowing slightly as he winced, perusing the passages he had penned not long ago—but in that period, he found himself at the nadir of his existence, akin to a vessel housing an empty soul, where the flicker of life seemed to wane within him.

immersed in the depths of his own written words, a wave of self-critique washed over him. the realization of his perceived deficiencies bore down heavily upon his psyche.

was my prose truly so lackluster?

his countenance contorted into a visage of melancholic discontent. he couldn't help but introspect on his conduct and acknowledge the impoliteness he had exhibited. it pained him to recognize the echoes of his late twin brother within himself, bearing the burden of both his loss, and their shared flaws.

a tinge of remorse lingered as he ran a hand through his hair, grappling with the repercussions of his actions.

yet, amidst the remorse, his spirits gradually ascended as he reminisced on a separate recollection—the instant when he emerged from his coma, their unwavering presence by his side.

that memory bestowed a glimmer of solace, softening his somber expression. they had been dumbfounded, incapable of containing their emotions upon witnessing his awakening.

in that fleeting moment, they had clung to him fervently, as if he were their vital lifeline. though their embrace—much to his dismay—had swiftly slackened upon realizing his frailty, the impact of their initial response eternally etched in his consciousness.

reflecting upon that juncture, a smile graced his lips. he held no remorse for his instinctive reaction to embrace them, despite his own corporeal anguish.

a gentle flush tinged his cheeks as he sensed that familiar flutter in his heart, impelling him to tilt his head inquisitively.

“that feeling again...” he mused—this time, aloud—as he rose a hand to the region where his heartbeat, almost amplifying with its errancies—resided. his gaze descended, fixated upon that enigmatic yet captivating feeling. curiously pirouetted in his eyes, a pure and guileless yearning for comprehension.

he contemplated the prospect of unraveling the enigma at the butterfly mansion, where he might unearth the veracity behind this inexplicable sensation.

maybe, it was naught but a lingering malady, an unseen affliction that had eluded his awareness. he mulled over the displeasing notion, recognizing the imperative to illuminate the puzzle that lay dormant within him.

little did he fathom the profundity of what lay ahead, the intricate tapestry of emotions and connections that awaited him.

if only he comprehended the significance of that flutter in his heart, the profound impact it would wield upon his odyssey.

several weeks had elapsed, and once more he found himself clutching his notebook, as if it were an extension of his being.

resting against the wall, he clasped the item firmly in his grasp, his gaze wandering towards the window as he settled into a seated position. with his knees drawn up to his chest, they formed an improvised tabletop, providing a stable surface for him to write on.

the room was bathed in the spill of moonlight, bestowing upon it a tranquil luminescence that infused the scene with ethereal allure. positioned at the precipice of the empty page, his quill poised like a delicate dancer, he sensed a surge of anticipation welling within him.

it had been a while since he had last visited the notebook, let alone written in it.

initially, this realization held a tinge of sadness. however, he began to view it as a form of success—a testament to his growth and progress—he no longer needed the notebook as a vessel for his memories, as he had learned to hold them within himself without the fear of them dispersing from his mind.

although he had been reluctant to let go of the notebook in the beginning, fearing that he would regress to his former self, he gradually grew accustomed to relying less on its pages. this change was thanks to a certain someone who had provided him with remarkable encouragement and support along the way.

speaking of that someone..

a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he reminisced about the unfolding events.

at long last, he had mustered the courage to convey his heartfelt gratitude to them for rescuing him on that fateful day of their initial encounter. in retrospect, he finally recognized how his own negativity had obscured the fact that his concern and guilt had driven his actions, leading to harm befalling their well-being.

with the weight of unexpressed appreciation lifted from his shoulders, a profound sense of contentment and relief settled within him.

it felt really good.

and relieving too. i’m glad to finally be able to appreciate them properly now.

the words resonated within him, echoing the profound impact this newfound expression of gratitude had on his relationship with them as he lowered his quill onto the waiting page, he began to write, capturing the essence of his gratitude in ink. the words flowed freely, a testament to his newfound ability to express his appreciation and to cherish the moments that had led him to this point.

in that quiet room, with the moon as his witness, he continued to write, allowing his emotions to spill onto the pages, creating a tangible record of his gratitude and the growth he had achieved.

naturally, he expressed his gratitude to shinobu as well, for she was the catalyst that set the entire endeavor in motion.

however, he couldn't deny that his experience with that particular individual had left a deeper impact on him, resonating within his being in a way that he couldn't easily dismiss.

we made origami today.

was if their first time? i wouldn’t believe it at all if they said yes, they did amazing.

the corners of his mouth lifted even further, a radiant smile spreading across his face. pride swelled within his chest as he reminisced about the moment when he, much like they had done beneath the sakura tree during the day—left his creations with them as a souvenir—a heartfelt gift.

his eyes fluttered, lids half-lowered, as his smile softened. the memory of their laughter resonated in his ears, a joyful sound that echoed through his mind. it was a honeyed melody, harmonious and timeless, etched into his memories like a cherished tune he would never grow tired of.

in that moment, he felt a deep sense of connection and shared happiness. the blossoming of their laughter and their appreciation had filled him with a profound sense of fulfillment.

i made them laugh, their smile truly is adorable.

i want them to stay happy.

an undeniably childish wish.

..i wanna be the reason they do.

a selfish, yet reasonable desire.

i could just say it outright, but...

his thoughts trailed off, contemplating the words he longed to express.

his heart swelled with a mixture of emotions, and yet, there was a hesitancy that held him back. the idea of openly conveying his yearning to be their source of joy brought forth an inexplicable feeling, a blend of anticipation and seldom vulnerability.

with a heavy sigh, he leaned his head back, seeking a moment of respite.

however, to his dismay—he misjudged the distance and inadvertently hit the wall with more force than intended. the impact elicited a wince and a deadpan expression as a wave of discomfort washed over him.

“ouch..”

rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, he closed one eye, gritting his teeth in response to the pain. regret filled his thoughts as he berated himself for not considering the consequences of his actions.

"just why didn't I take that into consideration?" he muttered, a tinge of frustration evident in his mellow voice.

it was a momentary lapse, a reminder of the fallibility that resided within him. the physical discomfort mirrored the emotional unease he felt, a reminder that expressing his feelings came with its own set of risks and uncertainties.

no, he had abandoned his initial notion of visiting the butterfly mansion to have his ‘condition’ assessed. as due to being one of the hashiras, it was now his duty to train the lower-ranked individuals, aiming to help them awaken their own marks while enhancing their abilities.

in essence, he found himself devoid of the time needed to pursue his plan. although it was indeed a missed opportunity, he chose not to dwell on it excessively.

besides, none of his attributes seemed to have weakened, so he simply disregarded the occasional peculiar sensation blooming in his chest whenever thoughts of them arose, dismissing it as a mere figment of his imagination—a hallucination.

he let out a resigned breath, a sense of acceptance washing over him. his hand fell back to his side, but as he blinked, his gaze followed a petal as it slipped out of his notebook's grasp, gracefully descending onto the floor beside him.

his mouth formed a small "o" of surprise, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. he blinked thrice, processing the unexpected turn of events. however, his features soon softened, morphing into a tender expression as he retrieved the fallen petal.

solicitously cradling the delicate leaf between his fingers, he twirled it once more, marveling at its beauty. the petal really did hold a certain allure, captivating his attention and stirring memories within him.

"it’s as beautiful as i remember..” he whispered softly, a touch of nostalgia coloring his voice. in that simple petal, he found a reflection of past beauty, a reminder of moments that had touched his soul.

as he held the petal, he couldn't help but reflect on the transient nature of beauty and the fleeting nature of time. just like the petal, moments of beauty come and go, leaving only memories behind. yet, in that fleeting beauty, there is a sense of profound appreciation and wonder.

while the world could be cruel, he yearned to bask in the fragments of ephemeral glory and find joy in the fleeting moments. he’s now understood that life was a continuous stream of passing experiences, and he made a conscious effort to cherish each and every memory that crossed his path.

in the midst of this realization, an idea sparked in his mind—a realization that he had never written about the day beneath the sakura tree.

how had he overlooked such a profound and cherished memory?

a surge of exhilaration and eager anticipation flowed through him as he envisioned immortalizing that extraordinary day within the sacred confines of his notebook. the memory, a veritable trove of exquisite beauty, served as a poignant emblem of life's fleeting nature and the timeless significance of shared experiences.

with a determined resolve, he opened the notebook to a fresh page, his quill poised to bring the memory to life through ink. the sakura tree, with its delicate blossoms fluttering in the breeze, held a significant place in his heart. it was a sanctuary of beauty, a haven where he had experienced a profound connection with another soul—with them.

….

as the final words pirouetted gracefully upon the page, he tenderly closed his eyes, his velvety lashes caressing his cheek in a delicate dance. in this ephemeral interlude, he granted himself a stolen breath, a cherished opportunity to savor the essence of the memory once more. the day spent beneath the resplendent sakura tree had been etched with profound artistry upon the sanctums of his heart, and now, like a cherished relic, it had found its eternal dwelling within the cradle of his notebook's pages.

a contented smile graced his visage as he delicately sealed the notebook shut, its once blank canvases now adorned with fragments of his existence—a treasury of treasured recollections.

on that day, they looked exactly like a dream—all i’ve wanted, all i’ve ever needed.

the parchment succumbed to the deluge of your cascading tears, becoming drenched and sodden, as if thirstily drinking in the sorrow that overflowed from your heart. with a poignant gaze, you traversed the final passage, each word a painful reminder of the bittersweet victory that had come at the cost of his absence.

weariness weighed heavily upon your eyes, threatening to seal them shut, yearning for respite from the harsh grip of reality. your trembling lips contorted, caught in a delicate dance between joy and sorrow, forming a wistful smile that held the essence of longing. in the sanctuary of your other hand, cradled with tender reverence, lay the very petal you had once bestowed upon him. under the caress of the sun's gentle rays, it gleamed like an iridescent gem, casting a luminous glow that illuminated your tears, turning them into shimmering crystals of anguish.

geto, one of the many sentinel who had witnessed the entwined trial of your beloved and tanjiro, could offer naught but a humble bow, his head lowered in utmost deference. he understood the futility of his desire to provide solace through an embrace, recognizing the unfathomable depths of the pain that gripped your soul. as you clung tightly to the notebook he had dutifully delivered, he stood as a silent witness to your inconsolable sorrow.

in the realm of young love, tragedy often unfolds with a poetic grace.

like a tapestry woven from wisps of a dream, your intertwined forms swayed in the breeze, as if caught in the ethereal embrace of destiny. and as the wind whispered its gentle secrets through the tendrils of your existence, the memory, forever enshrined, would reside as an indelible impression within the chambers of your collective memories, transcending the boundaries of time and spanning an unfathomable infinity.

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chthonion · 2 months ago

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Hark, Cthonion! Cthonion! I petition thee for answers beyond my ken!

Should such knowledge belong to the forbidden tomes and be designated as inciting Doom to share hence, then whence favourable future conditions arise in the comings turning of moons I shall staidly await your imparting of wisdom should such a dawn arise.

The twenty-fourth chapter of thine own tale The Harrowing, second stretch of thine winding saga, contains within the following passage:

‘“You might not have run into this problem yet, but searching songs don’t reach as far here as they do on the other side of the sea,” Finrod says to Elrond. “There’s too much of the Valar in the land; their power gets in the way. We might not be able to reach him, depending on how far he’s gone.”

Wait. Have elves not figured out how to solve that problem?

“We can start by seeing if we get anything from here, then, but after that we should divide the work,” Elrond says.

Maedhros looks at Celegorm, his eyes a silent question.

Celegorm shakes his head, his mouth a grim line. “Sorry,” he says. “I still can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Maedhros says, his voice grave: a few beats of seriousness, a moment of acceptance for something that is clearly important, and then he’s moving on. “Tyelpe, have you ever done a search?”’

Thus, whilst I can hazard mine own guesses as to the implications beyond our otherwise ignorant narrator's ken, the clarity of what thou hast alluded to with specific intention shall yet elude me without aid.

Tyelkormo's answer most heavily suggests the following:

-> Our stalwart hunter once hast strength in Finding songs lost to him by literal ability or emotional readiness to attempt one

-> Our stalwart hunter once hast a brand of trick that allowed our hunter to perform a Finding song in Aman less or unhindered by the cloyingly masking presence of the power of the ainur lost to him by literal ability or emotional readiness to attempt it

-> Our stalwart hunter hast the ability to commune directly with the land when tracking and bypass any need for song in it's entirety that his current state leaves him unable to do by literal ability or else emotional readiness

-> Our stalwart hunter is unable or else unwilling to try any of the above for fear of being Noticed by the powers that be in Aman, such as his estranged hunt leader

-> Or else that Maedhros, in his stricken state over the peril Maglor faced, dared to request our stalwart hunter appeal directly to his estranged hunt leader to locate their missing brother on their behalf for fear of the panic Maglor wandering on his own may begin escalating the Situation to one of public magnitude that Tyelkormo in his state could only decline for literal ability or emotional readiness

Indications of hitting any correct marks from thou wouldst be received with gratitude shouldst confirmation of one be Doom and a clue not enough to incite such severity.

Ok I'm so so late with this as usual and I am going to have to be incredibly cryptic but

Thy third guess was near the mark, though not at its heart!

The author possesseth and yet shareth not a Celegorm and Oromë one-shot, in which this shall be revealed and in which our wayward hunter may yet work some of his shit out, but alas! This tale demands that Annatar be, in some measure, calm of heart, and so he must work his shit out ere Celegorm may have his reckoning...

#chthonion answers questions

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ladyrijus · 10 months ago

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Zelda liked to believe she had gotten used to frigid waters, having spent the last ten years of her life wading through the various springs, lakes, and rivers that embellished her kingdom.

Glory to Lady Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom and Blessed Waters. On behalf of my citizens, I thank you for smiling upon us and gracing our lands with an abundance of water. It is your rains that have given us harvest, your rivers that have provided us trade, your oceans that have provided us a sense of majesty beyond our wildest reckoning. But, alas, I must confess your springs and the promise of my birthright elude me!

It is for that reason, I have made pilgrimage here: to beseech you for guidance, if you will allow me. How must I unlock this hidden power? Father claims that the three spiritual resting places of Lady Hylia hold the key, but surely you have felt my presence in those springs for years; and truthfully, I do not think I have anything left of me to purify.

Please, just tell me. Show me, even, if you must. But I am at my wit's end. I do not know what more I can do. I have tried reading the ancient texts, have tried praying to the statues of my progenitor, have tried to make sense of our nation's history. What am I missing?

Help me, please. I am begging you. Take my life, if that is the price I must pay, but spare my people. Spare my friends! Spare... spare Link. I cannot let him fight this battle alone.

However, she quickly realizes that none were quite as trying as the Spring of Wisdom, and the resounding silence on top of Lanayru Mountain wracks a different type of chill down her spine.

Why won't you answer me? What have I done to earn your ire? What makes me unfit of your wisdom?

She stands there, waiting for a response that her heart knows won't come. She wants nothing more than to get out, of course, but she can't. She owes it to her people to try, even if it is unlikely that she could win a contest of persistence against a god.

Her thoughts are briefly interrupted by the subtle, rhythmic crunch of snow, a reminder of the knight behind her who does his best to pace back and forth quietly. She exhales softly, watching the puff of white escape into the sky.

"I'm cold," she murmurs, "I'm so cold."

And just like that she is seven years old again, trying to steel herself before the goddess as Urbosa kept guard, trying to not fall apart like the world did when her mother died.

She clenches her hands and tries to steady her breathing.

Think, Zelda, think.

It's a shame honestly, how history will repeat itself.

There must be a way.

Just like the tapestry said, the world will fall apart at the hands of darkness.

The princess seals it away.

A princess that isn't her.

And this time, there will be no survivors.

Oh Gods above, there will be no survivors.

The last thing she hears is the sound of water rushing around her.

#botw zelda angst #as a treat <3 #don't worry link had a fire going and a hearty elixir for zelda just in case she pulled something like this #botw #breath of the wild #link #zelda #zelink #urbosa #nayru #hylia #tloz #loz #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda

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tales-from-the-aether-ttrpg · 1 month ago

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A Guide for Adventurers - Entry 2

On Monstrous Creatures

Some creatures were never meant to exist. It may seem harsh to say but Monstrous creature’s very existence spits in the natural order of creation. Many Monstrous creatures were once ordinary Mundane creatures that have been transformed by magic. They are often violent and mindless but not by choice. My fellow scholars may call me a madman for such a dangerous thesis but my studies have led me to believe that many Monstrous creatures lash out simply because they are in pain. They were never taught another option for survival and thus, they do what they think they must to survive. Unfortunately, attempts to alleviate their pain or show them another path rarely show positive results and it must be put down but I know they are not truly mindless monsters.

Mutations are the most well known Monstrous Creature as the common person is likely to run into one during their day to day lives but they are not the only type. Oozes, Chimeras, Constructs, Fae and Abarrants all share a few traits with Mutations that define the category of Monstrous creatures. Unlike Mundane creatures, Monsters do not abide by the laws of time. They may grow over the years but they only grow stronger. Age is less likely to kill a Monster than a child with a wooden stick. Their next shared quality is the fact that a majority of Monsters can be created through magical means, Fae are the only ones who break this pattern. However, the eclectic Fae share the last quality that binds all Monstrous creatures together: their vulnerability to Silver. Researchers have spent many centuries attempting to answer the question of why? Why Silver? But, alas, the answers have eluded us. Regardless of the why, it is always wise for the attrepit adventurer to carry silver on them just in case.

The Days of Black Sun, a day of fear and apprehension, no doubt sends a shiver of fear down one's spine just at the utterance of its name. There are many hypotheses attempting to explain this horrifying phenomena but one thing is for certain, we don’t know why the full eclipse creates Mutations, the most common type of Monstrous creatures. As a novice adventurer, you’ve no doubt encountered or heard tale of the Mutations born on the Day of Black Sun but do not be fooled, this is not the only origin of Mutations.

As many of you may know, Mutations were once ordinary Mundane creatures that have been twisted and warped by unknown magic caused by a full eclipse but it is a common misconception that they are only caused by a full eclipse. Mutations can be born naturally in the wild on very rare occasions in which it is likely to devour its own parents and throw the ecosystem wildly out of balance with its voracious hunger. Common signs of a Mutation in the wilds would be the displacement of other wild animals as they try to flee the Mutation’s wrath. If the wild life seems to be acting strangely or invades settlements out of the blue, there may be a Mutation that forced their relocation.

In my previous writing, you may remember the Slime. A mostly harmless creature that is often mistaken for a far more malevolent one. The Ooze is another squishy and amorphous being that can commonly be found in old ruins, sewers, and forgotten places. These creatures are driven by an unending urge to consume living flesh be it plant life, animals, or humanoids. They will often leave their environments pure of all filth like the Slimes but there will be a distinct lack of living beings. If you find yourself in a forgotten fortress free of dust or cobwebs, keep an eye for rodents or birds as their absence may be the only warning that the custodians consider you a snack too.

Oozes are most commonly created intentionally through magical means from corpses or filth as custodians and protectors by unsavory types but they can also reproduce themselves. Once an Ooze grows large enough, it splits into multiple smaller Oozes that then, over time, will duplicate as well. If an Ooze population goes unchecked, they may decimate entire ecosystems or towns when unleashed. The careless treasure hunter may crack open a vault filled to the bursting with Oozes, unleashing them on their unsuspecting surroundings. One cannot be too careful when delving into old or forgotten ruins.

The saddest form of Monstrosities are definately the Aberrants. Aberrations are magical amalgamations of creatures often caused by a spell gone wrong. They live pathetic, violent existences driven by unimaginable pain and mindlessness. Unlike Chimeras, Aberrations cannot reproduce, grow, or live in any meaningful way. They are truly sad creatures that best be put down gently if you ever have the misfortune of stumbling across one.

Chimeras, on the other hand, are vibrant beings that would be no different from Beasts if not for their voracious hunger, violent tendencies, and the fact that they can be created with high level alteration magics. Chimeras are near perfect transmutations of multiple Mundane creatures into one body. They can reproduce, grow, and often think for themselves, however, they cannot die of old age and only grow more and more powerful over time.

According to my extensive observations of Chimeras in the wilds, the reason it is rare to see colossal Chimeras is because they tend to either devour their young or those that live devour their parents. Their lives are a gruesome cycle of cannibalism. However, these monstrosities do not reserve their appetite only for each other. Chimeras will feast upon any living being they can find, often hunting and toying with their prey before filling their belly. It is a game to many Chimeras, much like a cat playing with a mouse.

Constructs can hardly be called a creature. To many scholars, they are magic items fueled by Soul Stones. However, I’ve encountered several Constructs within my travels that retain a personality and will.

To explain simply, dear adventure, Constructs are beings of wood, metal, or some other material that have been intentionally infused with a Soul Stone. Constructs are usually non sentient servants with no independance or free thought who obey the commands of their creator without question. It was thought for many centuries that Constructs were empty shells but I have seen with my own eyes the truth. The Construct I spoke to claimed its siblings of stone were merely asleep but it was unsure how to wake them. So, dear reader, when you find yourself in contact with a Construct, remember that it is more than a hunk of metal or stone.

And lastly, the final category of Monstrosities that I’m sure you’ve been waiting for: Fae. Fae are one of the most obscure yet well known beings in our world. There are countless stories of these elusive beings tricking, helping, or even procreating with mortals but not much is actually known about them. Fae come in all shapes and sizes from bipedal to quadrupedal to wyrm like and more. The one aspect that all Fae share is their wicked sharp mind and oracle like foresight. Fae know things they have no right knowing and can often predict events before they happen.

I once asked a Fae how they see the world and she gave me a pitying look. If you can make sense of her words, perhaps you are wiser than I. She told me, “We are but words on a page written by forces beyond our comprehension. The Creators think they are in control but they are merely spilled ink, glue sticking the binding, and fibers of parchment. Remember this when you play your games and tell your stories, we exist. We have lives of our own. We are not toys to be discarded on your whims. Remember the worlds in which you meddle are real to us.”

- Professor Dara Ignatius of the Institute for Wandering Minds in Itzel

This is a peak at some design elements of my TTRGP Tales from the Aether. This is not dnd. If you think some of these ideas are interesting, check out my pinned post follow for more updates :D

#ttrpg #tales from the aether #tfta #indie ttrpg #dnd #pathfinder #homebrew monster

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satansapostle6 · 4 months ago

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Lovers and Liars | Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, both determined and resourceful from reputable houses, find themselves at odds in the name of love.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen: Enemies

Everyone knew that Draco Malfoy was cruel. After all, everyone had seen the things he’d done to Harry Potter, or Neville Longbottom, or his own friends. But even then no one could have imagined the things he was capable of in regards to Lorelei Morrigan, the love of his life. No one wanted to know what would happen to those who dared cross Lorelei Morrigan. Of course, the position of most feared Slytherin boy at Hogwarts could have only possibly been held by one other person.

Everyone was also terrified of Theodore Nott, or at least they had been before he notoriously lost his memory at the hands of Alastor Moody’s imposter, allegedly. But the thing was, that Theo didn’t need to constantly terrorize, or showcase his power the way Draco Malfoy did in order to garner power and respect among the Slytherins. Of course, the same could be said for Hogwarts, although Slytherins lived in a different world entirely.

The other students of Hogwarts honored a variety of things like character and title, although the Slytherins were known for valuing only one thing; power. And as the saying went, power lied where men believed it to. Sure, everyone knew Draco Malfoy. Everyone feared his retribution, whether it came in the form of physical violence, or cruel pranks, or pure social destruction, not unlike the kind he secretly wished he could exact upon Theodore Nott.

If there was anything Draco hated, it was threats to him. He had always strived to eliminate every threat to him before it had the chance to make a fool out of him. Recently, the only one that had been troubling him was Harry Potter. There were two people Draco would’ve wiped from existence if he could; Harry Potter, and Theodore Nott. But alas, he had the foresight to understand that the only person worth the attention was Lorelei Morrigan.

The fifth-year Slytherins were currently in Astronomy, high up in the Astronomy Tower. Lorelei had been looking through a telescope, working on her daily observations when she felt a hand slyly snake around her waist. She let out a soft bout of laughter as she felt Draco’s face nuzzled into her neck as they eluded everyone else in the darkness of night.

“Draco,” Lorelei warned, struggling to sound serious.

“What?” he asked innocently, pressing a sweet kiss to her neck. “I can’t say ‘hello’?”

“I think you’re saying more than ‘hello’,” she stated.

“Hmm,” Draco chuckled, holding her close as he straightened her telescope. “What are you looking at?”

“The stars,” she murmured, pointing to show him, “Right there.”

“Mmm,” Draco nodded, looking only at her as he spoke, “Beautiful.”

“I love that constellation,” Lorelei pointed, “Have no idea what it is, though.”

“It shines so perfectly,” Draco thought to himself.

“That’s why I love it,” Lorelei agreed.

“Just you wait,” Draco vowed, “I’m going to buy you a bracelet that shines just like that.”

“You spoil me.”

“And I want the whole world to know it,” he nodded.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” Lorelei laughed.

Draco sighed loudly, genuinely content as he wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, looking back behind him to see if anyone was watched. Strangely enough, a meek Theodore Nott quickly turned away the moment he met Draco’s gaze. Not sure what to make of the silent exchange, Draco turned back to his girlfriend.

“Ready to do astrology charts today?” she asked.

“Of course,” Draco scoffed.

“Did you even prepare?” Lorelei raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “I’m a… gemini.”

Lorelei just raised her eyes as he continued playing around with the telescope, completely ignoring Professor Sinistra’s instruction.

“And what am I?” Lorelei questioned.

“Sagittarius,” he answered automatically. “That’s why we get on so well.”

“Sure,” Lorelei scoffed, subtly tossing her hair back to reveal the pair of pearl and diamond ears he’d gotten for her, “That’s why we get on so well.”

Lorelei and Draco both felt, along with just about every other Hogwarts student, that the best part about having Astronomy at nighttime was being able to walk the castle late at night once classes came to an end. They both found themselves more than occupied as they snuck around the lower levels of the Astronomy Tower.

“You know, Hogwarts is hardly where I’d be if I could choose anywhere in the world,” Draco confessed, as the two of them stared off into the cloudy abyss beyond the railing, “But this view really is something. If you’re bored enough,” he added.

“Where would you be, then?” Lorelei asked him, nuzzling into the arm wrapped around her. “If you could be anywhere.”

“I’d be with you,” Draco told her as he thought, “Maybe at a lake somewhere in France. Or walking the streets in Italy. Or the mountains in Chamonix,” he reminisced fondly.

“That sounds perfect,” she sighed, turning to look up at him. “Could we go after we both graduate? When we’re both seventeen?”

“We can go wherever we want,” Draco promised her, “Wherever yon want.”

“Oh, I wish that were true,” Lorelei breathed.

“It is,” Draco insisted, squeezing her in his embrace. “You wouldn’t have to work a day in your life, if you didn’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Lorelei agreed, as she looked out at the sky. “But, I want to achieve things. Great things.”

“And you will,” Draco said with confidence, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll do whatever I have to to get you what you want.”

“Once I’m working for Gringott’s, we can travel the world,” Lorelei said softly. “Every day will be another adventure. We’ll go wherever we please, and make our mark on the world.”

“That sounds perfect,” Draco smiled, head rested on hers.

The two of them admired the view of the dark, cloudy sky, memorizing every detail as if it were their last night sky.

*****

After quietly leaving Lorelei’s dorm room that night, Draco shut the door as softly as he could before heading to his own room through the common room. He was surprised to find that the room wasn’t empty. Sitting right there in front of him by the fire was Theo Nott, who looked up at him over the book he was reading. Draco cleared his throat upon seeing his enemy look at him through a stranger’s eyes.

Theo saw him and said nothing, politely going back to his book as Draco left the room, spooked by the eerie encounter. As far as Draco knew, Theo had almost no memory of any of his life before Lorelei had used a Memory Charm on him, but something in his deep blue eyes made Draco feel almost as if Theo was fully awake behind them.

The next night after dinner, Draco had grabbed onto Lorelei’s hand once they left the Great Hall, whisking her away before anyone could notice. Lorelei laughed the entire way as they ran out to the Quidditch pitch, feeling more alive than ever as she ran wild with Draco’s hand in hers. She looked over at Draco, and she knew without a doubt that he was just as happy as she was. A look she hadn’t seen in someone else’s eyes in the longest time.

Lorelei watched excitedly as Draco grabbed his broom, leading her out to the pitch as he allowed her to mount in front of him before he climbed on behind her.

“Ready?” he asked, laughing with joy.

“Yes,” she nodded, “Go!”

Draco laughed heartily as the two of them lifted their feet up off the ground, taking off on the broomstick, whizzing through the air. Lorelei screamed with excitement as they flew faster than she could compare to anything else in real life. She could feel every movement and sensation as she steered the broom with Draco’s arms around her protectively.

“I love you,” Lorelei said just as they slowed down for a moment.

Draco stared at her with bewilderment, unable to truly express how seriously he took the words.

“I love you,” he echoed.

They remained still for just another moment, before returning to their reckless broom ride across the sky. Their pure, unbridled happiness made minutes turn into hours, until they had to touch back down onto the ground. Lorelei looked around them in amazement as they landed safely on the pitch.

“Quick. We’ve got to be back before Filch finds us,” Draco told her.

“Race you back,” Lorelei grinned, taking off before he could stop her.

Draco chuckled to himself, prepared to run off after her, before he looked up into the stands, which he expected to be empty. Sure enough, Draco stopped completely when he saw Theo Nott, sitting in the middle of the stands, book in hand once again. Draco looked up at him in shock, unable to process what he was seeing. He stood there, mouth agape as Theo just slowly looked up to meet his gaze, no discernible expression on his face.

Tiring of the mind games, Draco scowled as he made up his mind. Scowling spitefully, Draco involuntarily balled his fists as he marched up the stairs, determined to confront Theodore. Theo hardly reacted as he saw Draco Malfoy charging towards him, completely unreadable.

“Hey!” Draco shouted angrily.

Theo finally closed his book, standing as he saw him. Now, Draco could’ve sworn Theodore Nott wanted nothing but trouble.

“Hello,” Theo said promptly, looking blankly at Draco. “You’re Draco, right? …Malfoy?”

“Cut it out!” Draco roared. “I know who you are?”

Theo chuckled charmingly at the irony, seemingly genuinely confused. “That makes one of us.”

“You’re not fooling anybody, Nott!” Draco hissed, wand pointed at Theo’s chin as he grabbed him by the collar. “I know you remember. I know you want Lorelei, but you can’t have her!”

“Lorelei?” Theo asked, letting the name settle on his tongue. “Your girlfriend? The one that I used to be with?” he guessed.

“Fuck you, you know exactly who she is!” Draco snapped at him.

“Look, I don’t remember much from before, but I know now that whoever I was before Moody cast that spell on me wasn’t exactly popular,” Theo offered kindly.

“Fuck no, you weren’t,” Draco agreed angrily, “You were always an empty, hollow shadow behind me,” he spat.

“I understand why you’d feel that way,” Theo nodded, taking a step closer to him.

Draco’s eyes darkened as Theo revealed a harsh, sickening grin.

“But just know that all the best moves are made in the shadows.”

Draco’s face fell as he finally realized that all of his suspicions had just been proved right, with no one else around to see. This entire time, for who knows how long, Theo had been plotting against him, determined to have Lorelei, his prized trophy, back. But Draco would’ve died rather than live to see that happen.

“That’s right. I know the truth. Of what really happened between us… Of what you did to me. But don’t worry; I’d gain nothing telling everyone now,” he plotted with conviction, “No. But don’t deprive me; try, and convince everyone that poor, harmless, confused Theo is out to get you. I don’t even think your girlfriend would believe you... You see, this is all happening because I’m waiting for the perfect moment to creep out of the shadows and end you.”

“I think you’d best remember that shadows only exist when the light allows them to,” Draco glared.

“You’ll never beat me at this game of strategy, and will, Malfoy,” Theo maintained. “I’m smarter than you. Better than you. I don’t want to take what you have; I want to destroy it before your very eyes, and shove your nose in it like the pathetic little bitch you are,” he said unpleasantly.

“Go ahead and try,” Draco encouraged him. “I will burn you to the ground.”

“There he is,” Theo laughed coldly, “The dragon. You know, you might’ve stolen Lorelei from me once, but I think you’ll find that keeping her is another thing entirely.”

“I think you’re forgetting,” Draco smirked, giving him a rough shove, “I stole her twice.”

Theo smiled, welcoming the competition.

“You have no idea what it means to truly hate, Malfoy,” he remarked.

“I don’t know how they managed to get your memories back, but I can make them go away again,” Draco reminded him, wand threatening his former friend.

“With the Trace still on your wand?” Theo teased. “I don’t think so. Don’t forget, Malfoy, I know that without your girlfriend, or shall I say my girlfriend, you’re nothing.”

Theo let out a grunt as Draco’s fist hit his face. Theo stopped for a moment to laugh as he wiped some of the blood from his chin, seeing proof of just how much he’d angered Draco.

“You always were a simple brute, Malfoy,” Theo said in amusement. “I can see why Lorelei chose you.”

“She will always choose me,” Draco assured him, straightening his black coat. “Get a fucking clue, Nott. She’s not with me because of anything I did. She’s with me because she sees who I am. That… is why you will always lose, Nott.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Theo smiled. “I won’t rest until you truly are the nothing we all know you are. But not quite as soon as you might expect. Because one day, Draco, when you have everything you could possibly want, and you think you’ve won… I will be there to rip it from your hands, and bury you. I will build my new life atop your ashes, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Draco was seething, panting hard as he found himself tempted to punch him again.

“You know, with all the careless mistakes you’ve made… I think allowing Lorelei to take my memories was the best,” Theodore said with a smile on his face. “You reminded me of who I really am. What I hate. What I love. You gave me new life,” he professed, forcing himself from Draco’s grip.

He gave him one more mocking smile, walking off freely as he left Draco alone up in the stands. There were lovers and liars in the world, but it was always the ones willing to do both who never ceased to amaze.

Chapter Nineteen

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svante-tia · 3 months ago

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S'vante story cont. (messy drafts sorry)

It had been weeks since S'vante ran into Valdir, he slumped in his seat & vented to Sa'nyu. "I've tried going back to the quicksand to see if I could catch a glimpse of him...by the twelve! He's completely eluded me." Sa'nyu sips his drink & then points in S'vante's general direction. "Are you sure you didn't dream him up? Its been over 3 weeks...& I haven't seen or heard of this gorgeous Viera anywhere, I'm sure someone would have said something" S'vante slouches further into his chair groaning.

Meanwhile... Valdir arrives at the Thurmaturges guild. "Valdir we don't have any mages to spare right now, they're all helping with the Ala Mhigan resistance."

Valdir pleads, "Is there anyone left that you know of that could help me. I have this contract to clear the roads...I need some heavy artillery." the Lalafell thinks for a moment before going over to the counter to grab a rolled up parchment. "Here, this is the only Black mage currently in the city, he's a damn good one if you can actually convince him to do any work. His name is S'vante Tia, at this time he's probably partying it up at the 1000 Sins club(name is a work in progress)." Valdir thanks the Lalafell, then rushes over to find this S'vante Tia.

Sa'nyu setting down his glass asks S'vante "Hey we're dry, you want another one?" Before S'vante could answer a Hyur woman plops down onto S'vante's lap. "S'vanteeee you never came back to find me like you said last week" she whined. S'vante's hands trail up her thighs, & he smiles "Apologies, I've been a bit busy. But I'm here for you now" The Hyur woman giggles & she melts against S'vante's lips. Sa'nyu lets out a small chuckle, then heads to the bar counter. "The usual, 2 of them" Sa'nyu's ears perk up as he hears the hostess.

"Oh Sir, how can I help you? "

a smooth baritone voice says"Uh...I'm actually looking for someone per the Thurmaturges Guild" Sa'nyu glanced in the direction of the hostess upon hearing this man's voice. Sa'nyu's eyes widen as he sees a tall, beautifully handsome Viera cutting a studly figure. He lets out a soft whistle. There he was, the Viera S'vante has been gushing about...Sa'nyu licked his lips & headed towards the hostess counter.

"His name is S'vante Tia, a black mage. I have a contract I'd like to discuss with him" The hostess tries not to avert her eyes, she blushes at the sight of Valdir. "Oh yes, he's here tonight-" Sa'nyu puts his hand on the hostess's shoulder and says "S'vante Tia?? I can help you find him" Sa'nyu smiles sweetly.

#anime #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv wol #ffxiv #wol x wol #mangaart #ffxiv fanfction #fanfic #fanfiction #art #manga #anime art #miqo'te #ffxiv miqo #male miqo #ffxiv viera

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cruelprincae · 9 months ago

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❛ what are you going to do to me? ❜ from locke!

Reclined with both legs draped over the armchair's arms, Cardan's mouth opens into a dramatically exaggerated yawn, one that reveals gold-tainted lips and a sharp set of fangs, ever so slightly more elongated than the remainder of the Gentry. The drowsy inhale is met with a sharp exhale before his mouth purses and he hums a thoughtful murmur, all the while making it a point for his black eyes rimmed in a halo of gold to not meet the redhead's fox-like amber hues; partially due to meaning to further unnerve the other, by making him believe his fate rested on little more than one of the Prince's capricious, wild and temperamental decisions ― for which he is particularly known for amongst the Folk ― yet mainly because he still does not trust himself to be able to look Locke in the eye without bursting into yet another fit of violence ― one that Nicasia would be unable to stop, given her intended absence the last handful of weeks after the incident herself and Locke the two took place.

Even so, the mere sound of his voice ― melodic, song-like and weaving, ever so always weaving ― bothers him, and it requires a great amount of effort on his behalf to keep his own sharp features nonchalant and void, as though he is drunk on Faerie wine and any semblance of thought currently eludes him. Alas, he does not miss the wavering speech ― near identical to how his voice had faltered when he caught him and Nicasia, nude in his chambers ―, that minute pitch of fear in the other's voice and he pretends not to hide the slight curl of his lips in the prospect of the thought that Locke fears him.

Good, he decides with evident satisfaction. He has proclaimed himself to villainy, after all; he is worthy to be feared.

❛ You believe yourself to be so important that a Prince of Faerie will dirty his hands with you ? ❜ Comes the lazy response, escorted by a high arch of a manicured brow beneath the golden, leaf-like circlet resting just above his brow. The Prince's head turns to face him, and for a brief moment, it appears as though he is looking past the other instead of at him, buried deep in thoughts ― but such is minute, and soon enough, his lips curl into a wicked grin that gradually spreads across his ethereal features, promising cruelty. And cruelty he would deliver. ❛ I care not what happens to you, nor the fish Princess for that matter, ❜ A dismissive wave of his hand is offered as one leg gracefully crosses over the other upon the chair's arm. ❛ You may indulge in your little. . . dalliance, for as long as your heart desires. However, you should keep in mind you broke the engagement between land and sea, and Queen Orlagh is exceedingly displeased with you. ❜

He does not mention that it feels as though as weight has been lifted from his shoulders upon the prospect that he will no longer have to spend his life as a consort by Nicasia's side, in the dark, watery tomb that is the Undersea's palace, nor the fact that he has spared him from the murderous ploy Queen Orlagh had in store for him as soon as her daughter's claim to the throne of Elfhame had been established. It matters little in this instance, and it would only give the Fae a footing to spin the story in his favour and claim that he only acted in Cardan's best interest rather than himself's.

With a swift motion, similar to that of a feline, the Prince is sitting upright, with his body now fully turned to face the redhead. ❛ Perhaps, you ought to be more concerned with how many fish and shrimps you have enraged rather than my pettiness. I hear Queen Orlagh is quite. . . creative, when it comes down to her ways of vengeance. Thus, to answer your question: nothing. I do not intend to do anything, for the Undersea will do it for me. I believe, it will be rather entertaining sitting idle while a bunch of Nixies munch on your skin the next time we go swimming. ❜

#raytm #( raytm | locke )#( 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 ┊ answered )#( 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 ┊ main )#( omg this took so long i'm so sorry sjghkfgjs #( but also hi!! :D i hope this is ok!!

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years ago

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Could you talk about sandor? Like about the trackers, not communicating about any boundaries between Sophie etc etc

-nash<3 (the one who asked about the Grady and keefe one)

Nash! Hello again! Absolutely I can, thank you for your patience with me as I got to this, I've been busy recently and answering more involved asks has gotten bumped down my list of priorities :)

There's this one category of relationships, which I can't remember the specific name for, but they're a category of relationship where one person has recognized, legal authority over another. A parent has legally recognized authority over a child, for example. This doesn't mean that everything within said relationship is authoritarian, but there's a recognized hierarchy and acknowledgement that children aren't adequately equipped to care for themselves for many years.

Sandor and Sophie fall into that category as well, I would say. He was assigned to her, and he occupies a position she has to listen to, at times. There are things she can't argue, or that are very difficult to argue and must be agreed upon by him to change. She can't ditch him or leave him because she wants to. She has to listen to certain orders--or at the very least, is supposed to.

All of which brings me to your ask. He has recognized, legitimate authority over aspects of her life, which means we end up with him doing things she's not always happy about or comfortable with. Does this mean he shouldn't do them? No, he serves an important purpose in her life and sometimes uncomfortable things need to be tolerated for their benefit. Sophie not liking him being with her through Foxfire when he was first assigned to her doesn't mean he shouldn't have done it or was in the wrong for doing so.

But does that mean Sandor is doing things the best possible way? Also no. For example, the trackers. The ones hidden in her clothes where she doesn't know, and it was shown to make her a little uncomfortable. Instead of removing trackers who serve a purpose, Sandor could inform her of where they are, provided they discuss and agree upon their necessity so she doesn't try to take them out. if she does, then the natural consequence is she no longer gets to know where they are, as they serve a necessary purpose and she violated the terms of their agreement.

The same principle applies to her boundaries. Sandor necessarily has a more personal access to her life given his job, but that doesn't mean he's free to violate any and all boundaries. This is another case where they could discuss the necessity of his actions and find a compromise agreement between the two of them so his job still gets done while Sophie is as comfortable and involved with the arrangement as possible.

This is generally the approach I have to their relationship. He has authority over aspects of her life, and for good reason. He's shown genuine care for her, so I don't think anything he does is intended to domineer and rule over her life, but out of a place of concern to complete his job. Does this mean some things Sophie isn't always thrilled about? Yes, but that's how things are sometimes. They could absolutely work on more clear, agreed upon boundaries and arrangements to strengthen their relationship further, but Sandor takes his job seriously and Sophie understands the importance of it, so I think they're already in a pretty good place.

I kinda focused on Sandor and Sophie's relationship more than Sandor himself, but I hope that still counts for your ask! I sure wish I could remember the specific name for that kind of relationship, but alas, it eludes me

#kotlc #kotlc character analysis #quil's queries #nash nonsie #kotlc sandor #i used to have the online textbook link saved that had the name. but i think I got rid of it after that class was over #and then also my laptop imploded a few months ago and I lost basically everything saved to my computed #so even if I had kept it I still wouldn't have it #anyway! these are some of my thoughts #like yeah sophie won't always be happy about what he does #but that doesn't mean he shouldn't do everything he does. and sometimes she will need to defer to him #he's not her equal. he holds authority over her #and she can rebel against it. but that is the case #and it is for her benefit #working with him I think is the best option to improve it further #so she has a say. even if she'd rather be done with the whole needing to be protected situation #and can acknowledge that isn't realistic and work with what's smartest and safest #if all that makes sense

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ryker-writes · 1 year ago

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Helloooo can I req a matchup plsss? I'm not sure if I submitted it on time coz idk your time zone huhuhu, tho if not on time, you don't have to answer me !!

Likes: cheeseburger (or any food with cheese), cookies and cream boba tea with extra pearl, music (particularly kpop and pop), fantasy stories, ping pong, swimming, a bit of basketball and badminton, sims 4

Dislikes: someone interrupting alone time, different loud sounds getting mixed up together, people telling me what I am supposed to do, insects, dirty things

Hobbies: reading, writing, listening to music, bit of dancing, watching anime or any film, playing video games (sims 4, valorant, call of duty, minecraft etc.)

Preferences: I like someone taller than me (im small for my age, unfortunately ToT ), doesn't look scared or shy, someone who has this vibe that can lead the relationship but also values my opinions

Love language/s: physical touch, quality time, and gift receiving

Honestly, I've been following you for some time now, and I've loved your writings since then! (And to tell you the truth, I rarely follow unless I like their writing and am waiting for a new one). CONGRATS FOR 1.2K FOLLOWERS WOOOOO!!! Awaiting for your next milestone!!!

You did submit it on time, no worries! Also, HIUASBDGABVSJUHDVAS YOUVE BEEN FOLLOWING FOR A LONG TIME AND LOVE MY WRITING THATS SO NICE THANK YOUUU

"Welcome in dear! I'm happy you sent one in. You made it in shortly before the deadline too! I was tossing around a few ideas for this one, but landed on someone eventually. Not gonna lie, if Jaxon (my oc) was an option, you would work very well with him. But alas, I must keep this with canon.

So, I did more pondering and ended up with Malleus for you!"

he's never had boba tea before (and probably not a cheeseburger either) so you would have to introduce him to them

but once you do, he loves them! Mostly because he enjoys them with you

his life is like a fantasy story so he always has stories to tell you that will leave you amazed

but really, he loves listening to the stories you write about more

no matter what they're about, he always wants to hear your ideas and what you think about

honestly he's so supportive

like he doesn't understand video games very much, but as long as you're having fun, he'll be by your side happily watching you and cheering you on

he wants so bad to dance with you

the only dance he knows is the more formal ones tho, so he's happy to do that with you

any other dance he's willing to at least try

gives you ALL the gifts

literally anything you even say you want or are interested in out of impulse, it's at your door the next day

I kinda eluded to it earlier, but he's big on quality time too!

you could be doing anything and he's just happy to be in your presence

most people avoid him so he's happy you're even willing to be around him

he loves you so much

#if my oc was an option i would say him #ryker the matchmaker #twisted wonderland matchups

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madame-mesdames · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

me détestez-vous, ma chère soeur / ты ненавидишь меня, дорогая сестра? ty nenavidish' menya, dorogaya sestra?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Ayeshah, would you like to accompany me?" she invites, yet her words carry no hint of genuine inquiry; instead, her eyes brim with deceit, her smile wide with artifice, and her tone delivered an unsettling chill. "Come here," she commands, her mischievous smile belying her true intentions.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

We traverse the labyrinthine forest, venturing forth through great lengths, as an opaque veil of mist envelops our surroundings. My garments cling damply to my body, and moisture clings to my hair. The murmurs of unseen creatures echo, while the watchful eyes of towering trees track our every move. "Let us proceed a little further," she urges, beckoning me beyond the bounds of the mansion, far from my sanctuary's protective embrace. With each step I take in the company of my father's connubial choice, the very air grows thinner, taut with trepidation.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

Dusk stubbornly clings to the night, unwilling to relinquish its hold, as the temperature plummets to unprecedented depths. I have never ventured this far from the comforts of my home, especially not at such a late hour. The biting cold pricks at my pallid skin, exacerbating the discomfort of my damp attire. Fear grips me tightly, for I dread succumbing to the imminent threat of freezing. How much farther must we tread upon this path? To what extent shall we journey? I can no longer discern the origin of our trail or the destination that awaits us. How shall we find our way back?

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"My lady, what do you clutch within your grasp?" I dare not voice my concerns aloud on this frigid night, for we are alone, far removed from prying eyes. The woman I am trapped with, the woman who harbors disdain for my existence, reveals a concealed axe from a band encircling her thigh. As my eyes fall upon the gleaming blade, a surge of electricity courses through my spine. —Safety has eluded me, for it never truly existed from the moment I found myself alone in her company; my life has been steadily ticking away its final moments. "I beseech you, Lady Sylvia, let us retrace our steps," I implore, concealing my growing suspicion and terror behind a wavering voice.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Do you harbor fear towards me, Ayeshah?" she inquires, her question's answer already known. Indeed, I am beset by terror! Inwardly, I plea for those words, as my weakened knees succumb to the ground, fervently praying for our return. "Do I perceive trembling in you, Ayeshah?" The night is mercilessly frigid, the air thin and suffocating, while my heart pounds within my chest, a desperate battle for breath in the face of mounting unease. I can no longer discern her subsequent remarks, as my waning respiratory affliction drowns out all sound. I realize I must answer as she wishes, in a desperate bid to increase my chances of returning home alive. Tears stream down my cheeks, unable to stem the tide of cold that permeates my trembling form. My vision blurs with the surroundings, yet from my prostrate position, I perceive Lady Sylvia tightening her grip on the axe. "I implore you, please, let me go home." I cry, gasping for air, my hands clutching at the hem of her dress, clinging to life itself—sister, I am paralyzed by fear. Alas, I fear I shall never return home.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Ayeshah, do you hate me?" Her decapitated body limps, her lifeless eyes wonder. —Were you not there, dear sister? Some may argue that a twin's perception is scarcely reliable. However, your presence was palpable, a familiar sensation flickering as Lady Sylvia and I delved deeper into the enigmatic depths of the woods. A pair of eyes, a set of footsteps seemed to shadow my every move. Amidst our woodland sojourn, the branches of the trees offered solace, resembling outstretched arms beckoning me to return. Yet curiously, those hands never extended to save me. Tell me, sister, do you truly despise me? Is that why you concealed yourself behind that tree, silently witnessing my brutal demise?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

#penned by exquise #exquise & mori #Ayeshah's Secret #aisha

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Thy sport a mansion

By turn the desire, close my love their belly, but single with either

on crystal rocks ye rove, they come. Thy sport a mansion. Beside the

bone, that crazed that I bleed, falling flee, yet leaue what was in happier

air, and sunny hair and redder than their eyes upon closing full gaze,

and no less, alas, if she was the answer to warre be train divine,

I sweare, my joy! Or the mirror, not just as thine eye that tempted my

happy tomb; and have show. He turns him thence our graceful sleep one eludes,

must I love, I willing for shells and we heart is to a crayoned cat,

its fruit. My auld breath invade thee, and harry me this answer to touch.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #149 texts #treochair

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torbeen · 2 years ago

Text

“A blue dragon? What does he have to be so sad about?” Torben remarked with the shrug of one shoulder, the final realization of his inability to acquire a refill on his cup of milk becoming solidified in thinly veiled contempt for the barkeep, who earned only the most withering of glares from the man.

Before Torben’s attention gravitated back onto his compatriot, drinking in words as opposed to that sweet, sweet calcium. “Let the dragons settle their own affairs. It is a war between flying, scaled lizards with mystical powers beyond the comprehension of a man like myself. Let those with wings, or those deluded enough to believe they have them, throw themselves into the carnage.”

The mention of the war brought that flash of interest back into Torben’s eye, despite how he pretended not to appear invested in the topic of conversation. “Nobody won the war, if you ask me. How many were sent off to die for something they only vaguely understood?”

Torben drummed his fingers upon the rim of his emptied mug, for if no other reason than to keep his hands busy amidst the hustle and bustle of the tavern. Ohhh how many pockets there were that dwelt near him, passersby who wouldn’t have noticed if they passed by their table a few coins shorter. Who would truly notice if a trinket or two left their person, especially to some of these brigands who were in their cups?

Was it honor among thieves that kept Torben’s hands still? Or a reluctance to end this conversation, by means of being forced to flee when caught?

“At least the Lord Admiral brought Kul Tiras back onto the map. Steered them into a better direction. Or would you argue that…” Ahhh, another name that eluded Torben in that moment. What more could be done but to make a stab in the dark? “Ashmane? Ashpane? Ashbane. ASHBANE! Yes, that was the one. Would you say that the world would be better for Ashglane and her merry band of murderers couped the high chair in Boralus?”

Torben had seen the sort that the Ashrane Company employed. There were brigands. And then there were brigands. Torben proudly considered himself among the former. Men of cunning who tweaked the nose of the law while pursuing their own interests, but without malice towards their fellow man. The Ashkane Company, though? Ohhhh those were the worst sort of criminals there were. Murderers. Butchers. Sadists. The type of men who wouldn’t hold the door open for the person behind them. Villains, one and all.

“You seem to believe that the Lord Admiral wakes up every morning, rolls out of bed, punts a puppy through the open window into the harbor below, and then rubs her hands together over a map of Azeroth and plots world domination. Do not deny it, you have painted the picture quite well.”

There Torben paused, as if trying to remember how far Proudmoore Keep was from the harbor, and if such a thing would have been possible at all…alas, no answer seemed to come, as another shrug was what broke Torben’s train of thought. “Is she the monster you wish her to be? Or is she but an unfortunate soul who was dropped amidst the waves and did the best she could to keep her head above water?”

The drumming of fingers turned to the absentminded attempts to spin the cup upon its bottom rim. A task that was far more difficult that Torben seemed to anticipate. Based upon his numerous failures. “It is far easier to hate a monster than just a person. Flesh and blood, like you and me. The monster does all things out of malice, do they not? Because the person can do things out of fear. The monster is infallible in their schemes. A person does what they think they must. For whatever their cause may be. The monster most certainly wishes to extinguish the lives of your Horde for nothing more because they can. Ahhh, but the person…what reason would they have for such butchery?”

The cup fell from the table with a muffled clatter, but based on Torben’s reaction, only a keen observer, or at least the visually un-impared would have known. If you pretended something didn’t happen hard enough, those around you found it damn difficult to convince you otherwise. “She can level a city. She could sink Kalimdor into the sea, if she put her mind to it, I reckon. But she doesn’t. She hasn’t. Ask yourself why. Fear of retaliation? She has the greatest fleet on Azeroth at her disposal, as you said. Her allies have intergalactic ships that run on donations from the church…or whatever it is they spend all that coin on. They are in a position to extinguish your Horde. But they, and she, don’t. Why.”

Sails, Ales, and Old Ails ii.

Continuation of here "Like her." He said with a scoff. "By all means, raise a glass to the Lord Admiral here, wonder how many Kul'Tirans, her own people, have been chased all this way south by her policies and increasing avarice." He added as he let go of his mug and leaned back. There was the twitch of the lip in the corner of the Sin'dorei's mouth as he did so. The nook for a cigarettes that wasn't coming. He composed himself as soon as it formed. "And seeing as you are lacking in newspapers apparently. Archmage Khadgar, whos greatest magical feat in the last ten or so years was burning a bridge last I heard, and the blue dragon Kalecgos, whos most notable history was being a mana battery and sticking his cock into any blonde hole with mana inside. Oh, and a gaggle of for hire adventurers, like usual, doing all the monster killing." He said dismissively. "It's going to be a disaster, I'm sure." "Not as if the Horde can really raise a flag that isn't colored white these days." He continued. "Don't forget we technically lost the Blood War. And we weren't in much position to fight -that- either, can't even scrape together an Iron Star from Hellscreams days I hear Orgrimmar is so starved of resources." He said dramatically. "Which was my point earlier about Proudmoores continuing existence being an excuse to do -anything- to rebuild martially, to buy breathing room and safety." He said with a casual hand wave. "You cannot name a singular Horde threat that isn't derived from a weapon yet constructed like the terror weapon sadly used on Theramore, or the woefully wasteful blight. We do not boast Crystal Spaceships, or Demi-gods, or walking weapons of arcane destruction with cities destroyed under their belts. We only boast people. Desperate people. Who are sitting there wondering when the boot is going to drop. Can you really sit there Torben, and tell me a desperate people pushed to the edge aren't justified with wanting a means of leverage?"

@torbeen

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missmeasured · 2 years ago

Text

The Stars on the Staircase

A Snape x reader fix I’m writing on Ao3. It’s written first person with no name inserts, I just write around it. The reader is a female 7th year who is good at charms and is otherwise un-described except she tends to wear dresses and nightgowns.

They are brought together when he saves her from falling off a staircase. Little sparks shoot out of their hands when they touch and from that moment on they are inexorably drawn together.

~Chapter 1 Bath Time~

The note read simply “My Office. Immediately after dinner.” I didn’t need any clarification on who it was from. We seemed to have an unspoken understanding of this strange connection since the incident on the stairs.

With electric energy I excused myself from the Great Hall, leaving my friends with only the vaguest of idea where I might be. I had planted the seed earlier that I would be in need of the library later this evening, but as I left I mentioned going back to the dormitories. If they go to the library they will think me in the dormitory or vice versa. I could only hope they would assume they missed me on my way to one or the other and think nothing of my absence.

The cooler air in the dungeon sent my skin into goosebumps, or maybe that was just my proximity to my destination. There was a certain quaking in my bones I could not bring under control but neither could I stop my feet from continuing their tread. When I arrived at the door and raised my hand to knock, it was almost as if he could sense my arrival. The door flew open and he stood there filling his office doorway like an ominous black cloud of smoke.

“Come in.” He said tightly, turning on his heel and marching through the arched tunnel to his cramped black stone office. As I entered the door slammed behind me and I heard several clicks and clunks as multiple locks slid into place. My goosebumps asserted themselves further at the confirmation that this was in fact a very private meeting indeed.

He was busy turning two leather armchairs to face each other in the middle of the room in front of the desk. He gestured to me that I should sit in one of them. As soon as we both had taken our seats I became aware of being too close to him. There should be a desk between us, an obstruction. A pittance of air lingering between our knees was far too flimsy. I pressed my thighs together in an idiotic attempt to quell the growing urges.

“Right. I’m sure you well know why I’ve asked you to come tonight.” He began, his eyes skimmed over me down my body to my bare knees and abruptly back up to my face. “We need to discuss the situation since the stairwell.” I wanted to speak, to say yes, I understood that but my mouth was dry and my heart was hammering into my throat so I merely nodded at him.

“I’ve gone over the moment again and again in my mind and I have berated myself for not simply arresting your momentum and levitating you back up but, alas, I did not. I cannot take back the fact that I grabbed your hand to stop your fall and I have decided there is no point in bemoaning the fact that I did so. This type of magic tends to force itself on people whether we wish it or not. The sparks that we saw continue to elude me in my attempts at researching them. I’ve looked through every mention of sparks, stars, and any other explosive skin to skin outburst in the library and I cannot find an example of what this magic is that is plaguing us. The most commonly written about phenomena regarding sparks on first touch is, of course, star crossed lovers. Which is frankly, absurd and always romanticised beyond reason for any kind of scholarly research. The function of an appearance of magic at a touch is to draw attention. Perhaps to a connection that would otherwise go unnoticed. I have asked you here to convey that I have been looking into this and I am coming up terribly short on answers. I could, if you wish, ask my colleagues for their expertise. However, I have been putting that off as I think you and I will both agree that it would be uncomfortable at present to stand in Professor McGonagall’s office and talk about what is happening to us.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” I begged, hearing the desperation in my voice. The idea of listing the symptoms of this very bizarre ailment to other teachers was utterly horrifying to me.

“I will respect your choice at this time to keep this information between us. But I need you to understand that it might not be the best course of action. I worry without the intervention of others that we will find ourselves making a series of bad decisions that very much have the power to affect both of our lives.”

“Have you been feeling…” I try to ask but looking at him, the most severe of my professors I cannot bring the words I need to come to my lips. I feel heat rush into my face, I wonder if I’ve turned red. I look down at my knees like a coward.

“What do you know of Legilimency?” He asked.

“Of reading minds?” I asked back.

“It is more complex than that but, for the purpose of this conversation, yes, the art of mind reading.” He clarified.

“You do it, don’t you?” I asked. “You’ve been in my mind, haven’t you? I thought I was making it up, but I felt like I could feel you there. Watching and listening, it’s been getting worse all week. It feels like you are standing right behind me. Sometimes I think I can smell you, you're so close.”

“That’s not possible.” He interjects. “You shouldn’t be able to feel me at all. I didn’t cast any spell to look into your mind. What, pray tell, do I smell like?” He seems to add it as an afterthought.

“Herbs and spices, musk and old leather. Depends on the day. Are you saying you haven’t been in my head?” I ask with a hint of accusation, feeling he is trying to deny something I know to be true in my bones.

“Let me clarify. In normal circumstances someone like myself can occasionally see or hear snippets of peoples thoughts when their minds are unguarded by occlumency. Especially when they are thinking about me specifically. Usually it involves a student doing something they ought not to be doing and the act of thinking about me catching them is what draws my mind to hear the thoughts. Those thoughts call to me because they have my name on them. In a room of students I do not hear a cacophony of thoughts but imagine instead that they are books and their most simple thoughts are their titles. If I should I care to, I could walk about the room reading the titles of the books without casting any spell to penetrate their minds, which is not allowed at Hogwarts. Since our encounter on the stairs your “book” shall we say has been laying open and being read out loud to me. I cannot stop myself from hearing and seeing all that you think when you are close to me. It is because of this access to your memories and your day dreams that I know you and I are going through the same … difficulties.” Professor Snape explained, seemingly equally reluctant to name the problem.

I was so overwhelmed momentarily with the idea that he had been watching every lusty day dream and dirty thought that had gone through my mind for the last week that the shame burned up from my belly to my cheeks again before I really heard what he was saying. He felt it too.

“I’m sorry I can’t make my mind stop. I can’t turn it off. It’s horrible and relentless.” I started to get a little choked up by the shame of it all. How had he even taught a class while listening to my mind rage on enacting forbidden desires with him? I was so embarrassed.

“Don’t apologise. I asked you here tonight because I realised we were both suffering. I have had similar difficulties with… finding relief alone.” he said quietly. “I saw your memories of your frustrating nighttime endeavours.”

“Oh Merlin, this is the worst moment of my life. Please tell me we don’t have to go talk to McGonagall about this. I would rather jump off the astronomy tower.” Tears wiggled in the corners of my vision, jostling to free themselves amidst the shame of having my potions teacher having seen my maddeningly unsuccessful masturbation attempts.I could not possibly tell a second teacher this. I wouldn't even be able to say the words.

“You must believe me when I say I feel the same. I have never felt like this about a student in my time as a professor here and I do not want to. I have felt absolutely disgusted with myself all week. A part of me feels like the best thing I can do to protect you is to bring in someone else. I fear their disapproval about it. In a situation like this, I will look incredibly bad whether I act on these feelings or not. But, I fear we are nearing a breaking point, the both of us. I am worried that if we continue unchecked that I will make some very bad decisions. I am terrified that I will ruin your life one way or another, either by humiliating you in front of my colleagues or by pursuing a sexual relationship that would be more hazardous to you than it would be to me. I am determined not to lay a finger on you.”

Unbidden images of places he could put a finger on me flashed through my mind. As I saw them in my mind I saw him seeing them in my mind too. My cheeks continued their quest to become the reddest they had ever been.

“Your imagination is terribly clear, you know. You have a devastating combination of creativity and clarity to your mental imagery that will drive me absolutely mad if I have to keep seeing it. I should try to teach you occlumency to block me out of seeing these beautiful day dreams. Ultimately the required time alone to teach you that skill would be the worst mistake we could make right now. Or perhaps I’m merely being terribly selfish. There is a part of me that does not want to keep out of your deliciously designed daydreams.”

I laughed, after all, he was right. Being alone and practicing blocking him out would be dangerous when all I wanted him to do was reach across the gap between us and put his hand on my knee. I felt like I would explode if he just reached out to make that contact. All of a sudden his hand came toward me, stopping mere inches from me. He drew it back. “I don’t think you would hurt me.” I said in disappointment as that hand retreated.

“You are wrong. It would be unforgivable for me to steal your first experiences. I am not able to be in a relationship with you and you deserve to be loved by your first partner. They should be cherished memories of playful exploration not a tawdry affair with someone in a position of power over you.” He had a tone of disgust in his voice. I worried it was disgust for me but his face contorted as soon as the thought crossed my mind. “Your first thought is that you are the problem. Do you see how we are unmatched? You are too young and unsure of yourself. That is why it would be wrong of me to allow anything to pass between us.”

“I feel like we are having a conversation without me even having to talk.” I laughed.

“I feel like I have been talking far too much. I should stop keeping you from your evening.”

I was instantly sad at the thought of leaving his presence. I imagined him pulling me close to hug me goodbye. I imagined the smell of him with my face against his chest and then I remembered again that he saw it all too and I turned bright red once more. “This is humiliating knowing that you see everything I imagine. I don’t know what to do about class, how will I stop being red in front of my friends? They are going to ask.” A playful smirk crossed his lips and I demanded “What are you thinking? You get to know everything that crosses my mind and it’s unfair.”

“I was thinking you need to keep trying to find relief. Maybe it would lessen the frequency of the images.” He suggested.

“Well I haven't had any luck with… that. I thought you said the same.” I mutter, looking at the floor and peaking up at him. I cannot believe I am even discussing this with him.

“Correct. It seems to make it worse rather than better.” He drawled in his stupidly sexy voice, sending me mentally into images of touching myself to the idea of him having sex with me. I tried turning it off but it just dissolved into broken images of him and I cut up between blankness I couldn't hold onto for more than a moment. I started mentally cursing while trying to shut it down. But I couldn’t and unbidden I thought about how wet I was just from sitting across from him listening to him talk about our situation. I cursed some more. I didn't want him to know that. His smirk came back again.

“I’m so glad you are amused by my struggles, Professor.” I bit off angrily the frustration of it all getting the better of me.

“You should be. I so seldom find people amusing.” He drawled. At another flood of my sex ridden thoughts he quirked a brow at me. “I have an idea. Come with me.” He said, rising to his feet and leading me through a different door into his private sitting room, then another into his bedroom. My mouth dropped open to be in such a private space. My body was on fire with heat for him and full of confusion at being brought here after he said he absolutely would not be laying a finger on me. He kept walking to another door, sending my brain further spinning. We entered his bathroom, a surprisingly spacious room equal in size to his bedchamber. White tiles with black grout made the space feel sterile but the small windows at the tops of the walls were jewel toned stained glass which provided privacy but also she imagined in daylight they would cast a rainbow of jewel tones across the room. There was a beautiful tub in the centre of the room, with circular tile work surrounding it to a quietly gorgeous effect.

“Why are we here?” I asked carefully after a moment when no explanation came from him.

“I had an idea…. For a way to help… relieve some of our mutual … tension.” He let slip very slowly. “But I’m realising that even this idea is compromising for you and-”

The word compromising made me think of the phrase compromising position and suddenly the image of him bending me over this tub and flipping up my skirt flooded my mind.

“Stop! Merlin’s sake! Your mind is going to drive me into the brink of madness. We have to do something about this.” He snapped, he turned on the faucet of the tub with his wand and grabbed my school robe with the other hand, sliding it off of my shoulders. “I’m going to leave the room. Take off your knickers and get in the tub. Keep the rest of your clothing on, remember I can sometimes see what you see through your mind speaking to me.”

“You want me to get in this tub with my clothes on? Why? And you're leaving?” I asked dumbfounded.

“Yes. Get in the tub, lie down, and try to relax.” Then he left with haste, leaving the door open and disappearing around the corner.

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