#but for her it's a path of madness and destruction for sure

[mayu-otome]

William Rex 2nd Birthday Epilogue

These translations are solely for entertainment and not profit. Accuracy is not 100% guaranteed.

(quick note that English and Japanese are not my native language and there might be some errors and mistakes in my grammar and wording in the translation)

This story is in William’s POV

From time to time, I recall the sincerity Kate had when she held my hand and made the decision to live with me.

I have no regrets about taking everything in her life with these hands.

That's why, in this moment, I’ll sing my ultimate love for you.

William: Victor, a fine red wine for you.

Victor: Vintage red wine... oh, is this to thank me for giving you a day off after your birthday?

William: It's for giving you extra work even though you're already a very busy man.

Victor: I don't mind it at all! I find it rewarding to work for you and Kate.

Victor: But I shall accept this, still. Let's have a drink with Kate later.

(As generous as ever, aren't you?)

Victor accepted the bottle of wine in high spirits, his gaze focused onto my hands.

Victor: What's that, William?

William: Oh, I just went to receive the photograph I took with Kate on my birthday.

Victor: A photograph of you and Kate? Let me see it too...

William: Certainly.

Victor: ... Ah, how nice. This is a very nice photograph.

Victor: I'm sure the future generations will remember you two as the self-righteous king and his partner.

William: I hope that Kate won't be criticized as a princess who was tempted by evil and driven mad.

Victor: Even if she were to be called that, I think that girl would laugh and be happy about it.

William: Yeah, without a doubt.

Victor: ……

Victor: ... Will. Most things are imaginable to me.

William: You're rather confident in yourself, aren't you, Vic?

Victor: I don't mean to say that I'm special.

Victor: Humans have fates.

Victor: Life gets branched out into countless different paths, but fate guides us to where we ultimately belong.

Victor: Much like how a river will eventually reach the sea.

William: Like how my fate is for my own ferocity to destroy me?

Victor: Yes, it may feel much firmer to the Cursed.

Victor: Humans are creatures that will resist their predetermined fates, seeking freedom.

Victor: But you, William, accepted and loved your fate.

Victor: Ever since I met you for the first time in the palace.

(... Ahh, this feels nostalgic.)

William: To me, letting fate lead me by the nose is no different from being unable to be the master of my own life.

William: That's why I chose to accept and love it.

Victor: I understand that's the kind of person you are. It's just, I feel a little bit of loneliness.

William: Lonely, hmm? Why so?

Victor: That's…

Victor: That's because you are beautiful, self-righteous, and — there didn't seem to be an end to your loneliness.

Victor: That's why I'm glad that there's someone who will share this fate with you.

Victor: ... It must've been so unbearable.

As I left the office after my conversation with Victor, I couldn't help but smile.

(... I've been alone for the longest time, huh.)

Those words from my longtime friend were rather difficult to ignore.

(I never meant to be alone.)

I love humans, and I love watching them living freely more than anything.

Yet, I knew that the closer I got to them, the more likely they would be dragged into my own destruction.

(That's why I chose to be self-righteous.)

(Like rainfall after a drought that will leave when the time comes)

(I never thought of it to be lonely or inconvenient.)

(Still...)

<flashback>

Kate: Sometimes… I wonder…What kind of facial expression will I be wearing when my ultimate destruction comes?

Kate: I think… I’ll surely be smiling happily.

William: … And when I’m holding your happily smiling dead body in my arms, your poison will spread and stop my breathing too.

Kate: … At that point of time, shall we go to sleep together at the finishing line?

<flashback ends>

(Meeting Kate made me conscious of it.)

(Living with Kate has made me even freer.)

Just like I became free by living with Kate,

I feel that Kate has also become free in every way by living with me.

It was only the two of us, but we were as free as we could be.

(I want to see Kate's face......Let's go see her)

I left the palace and passed through the dense forest until the faint sound of the piano could be heard.

Drawn to the melody, I headed toward the grand hall.

There sat the person I expected to see, her fingers dancing across the black and white keys of the piano.

William: Kate

Kate: ……Will!

Kate: Hehe, I knew you would come.

William: You knew?

Kate: I couldn't find you anywhere, so I thought that you'd notice if I played the piano.

William: How does it feel to have lured the self-righting king into the palms of your hands?

Kate: You make me sound like a supervillain…

William: Ahahaha!

Kate: Oh, Will, you went to pick up the photograph right?

William: Yeah, you too?

Kate: Yes, but you beat me to it.

Kate turned her eyes onto the photograph in my hand

Her gaze contained both anticipation and excitement, she looked as though unable to wait any longer to see it.

I sat next to her on the stool and handed Kate the photograph; and she got so absorbed in staring at it, as though she had lost track of time.

There we were, smiling while cuddled together.

William: What do you think?

Kate: .... We look very happy.

William: Yeah, you're right.

Kate: ... But my heart was even happier.

Kate looked up from the photo and turned her gaze to me.

Kate's eyes contained a beautiful light, burning with life.

(What’s in your heart can never be seen by others)

Therefore, no one will know what the two people in this photograph were really thinking.

(But only I know what’s inside Kate’s heart)

(And only Kate knows what’s inside my heart)

(That's fine, because that's the truth.)

William: Speaking of which, what was the song you were playing earlier?

Kate: It's K.265 by Mozart in C Major.

William: It's become your signature song, hasn't it?

Kate: I practiced a lot because I wanted you to hear it.

William: Did u know, Kate? This piano variation has a theme and 12 variations.

William: It was originally a song about the sweet pain of falling in love after making a wrong step.

Kate: ….. I see

Kate's fingertips caress the keyboard tenderly.

Kate: Hey, Will. If only there were no such thing as suffering.

Kate: But, to me, this is a happy song about loving someone so much that it hurts.

Kate: It's strange how the pain you go through in order to love someone sometimes enriches your life.

Kate smiled as she said that, looking as beautiful as a flower blooming in spring

By my side, she becomes more free and beautiful day by day

I found that incredibly endearing.

William: I'd like to hear the rest. You stopped playing in the middle of the second variation.

Kate: Yes, of course Will.

Kate: Okay, let’s continue.

Kate's fingers danced over the keys, a beautiful melody echoed through the air.

I wanted to make this sound, this sight, and this sparkle of life named Kate mine.

An impulse that contradicts freedom wells up, and I smiled inside.

(Kate)

(I love this moment when I'm living with you)

I placed kisses on Kate's hair, neck, and cheek.

Kate: .. W-Will

William: Go on

Kate: But…..

William: I want you and the music you're playing. I can't help it, you know?

Kate: ... Jeez…

The music started to lose a little tempo as it approached the ending.

The moment Kate's fingers stopped playing, I would steal her lips.

The kiss awaiting her at the end was sure to be the best and the most sinful.

[elryuse]

A Yandere Jeon Heejin x Male Reader please

THIRST

YANDERE JEON HEEJIN X MALE READER

In the bustling halls of Maplewood High School, Heejin reigned as the epitome of popularity. With her flawless looks, captivating charm, and effortless grace, she was adored by many. Yet beneath her radiant facade lurked a dark obsession, one that revolved around her childhood friend, Lee Y/n.

"Yah Stupid Head... Give me your lunch money".

"P-please don't do this to me.. I've never done anything to you.. ".

"How dare you talk back to me... Boys punch him harder.. ".

"No please. Stop... Ahh".

Once inseparable, Heejin and Y/n shared a bond forged in the innocence of youth. However, as they entered high school, Heejin's rise to popularity led her down a path of cruelty. She reveled in her newfound status, using it to belittle and torment Y/n, relishing in his pain as he endured her relentless bullying.

Despite Heejin's transformation into the school's golden girl, her heart ached with an unspoken longing for the boy she had once cherished. But pride and peer pressure kept her from acknowledging her true feelings, and she pushed Y/n further away with each passing day.

Then tragedy struck. A horrific accident shattered the illusion of Heejin's perfect life, leaving her ostracized by her former friends and drowning in a sea of despair. In her darkest hour, it was Y/n who extended a hand of compassion, offering solace amidst the storm of her anguish.

"Stay away from us Heejin... You're ugly as heck... Ahahaha.... C'mon girls let's leave her".

"Girl's please... I'm one of the most popular girls right..."??

"Bitch please... Once we know how fake you were... Your career is basically over".

"Please... I've done everything for this group... For you all... ".

"Let's leave girlsss.. ".

"No... Please.. Don't leave mee...".

"Are you alright Heejin"?

"Y.. Y/n...".?

"C'mon let's get you back on the right track Heejin.. ".

"Y/n...*sobs* I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry... After everything that I've done... I'm sorry... ".

"It's okay... Let's get you home safely now.. ".

"Thank you... Thank you Y/n *hugs him* Thank youu".

As Heejin found herself drawn to Y/n's unwavering kindness, her feelings evolved into something far more consuming. She watched him with a feverish intensity, her heart swelling with a love she could no longer deny. But as her affection deepened, so too did her obsession, spiraling into a dangerous obsession that consumed her every thought.

Determined to make Y/n hers and hers alone, Heejin's actions grew increasingly erratic and possessive. She would go to any lengths to keep him by her side, manipulating situations to isolate him from others and showering him with suffocating affection.

"STAY AWAY FROM HIM... HE'S MINE BICTCH... *thud* YOU BETTER STAY AT THAT POSITION, IF YOU DARE TO WOKE UP... I'M GONNA HURT YOU AGAIN.. AND AGAIN.. ".

"please... Help-".

"I SAID SHUR THE FUCK UP".

"y/n...help..m-".

"I WILL MAKE SURE HE FORGETS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU YUNA... HIS MEMORIES WIYH YOU WILL BE GONE.. I SHALL TAKE THAT PLACE INSTEAD... BYE BYE SWEETIE AND SWEET DREAMS".

"y/n...agh..uh...hh".

But as Heejin's grip tightened, Y/n began to sense the darkness lurking within her, and fear gnawed at the edges of his heart. Trapped in Heejin's suffocating embrace, he realized that her love had transformed into something monstrous, a twisted obsession that threatened to consume them both.

Caught in the clutches of Heejin's dangerous affection, Y/n could only watch helplessly as the girl he once knew descended further into madness. And in the shadow of her obsession, their once-cherished bond stood on the brink of destruction, a casualty of Heejin's desperate desire to possess him at any cost.

[anadiasmount]

limit - jude bellingham series.

quick sum: shy and innocent uni student by day but a notorious street racer at night, meets now currently best footballer jude bellingham under certain circumstances. what happens when these two are forced to get along, in order for them to get out of trouble? will they sacrifice their careers in order to protect themselves?

wc: 4.7k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: hello! this is a request mixed with an idea i had. this is a small five-part series since I didn’t want to do a large fic. i really hope you enjoy since it’s a enemies to lovers, ‘she fell but he fell harder’, car girl! reader, and jude being somewhat cocky and mean but a huge teddy bear. pls note that i don’t condone any street racing or hectic driving! this series will have mature content so minors DNI 🔞. it will also contain other issues dealing with family domestic issues, mentions of being insecure, etc, but I'll place the warning then :) please enjoy chapter one, and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

“Now class I hate to stress this enough but you have to take exquisite and thorough notes. It will not only guide you but help and take you to the correct path for this course,” said Professor Alto. I felt like rolling my eyes and walking out of the lecture room, but instead, I just turned over and laughed with Marie, who was already staring at me. “He says that every class period, I'm starting to get annoyed because we’ve been taking this class for the past month,” Marie snickers.

“True but in all honesty he does have a point,” I raise my eyebrow and look back at the Professor who was now walking back and forth presenting the slides. “Shut up. We get it you’re smart,” Marie groans and pushes my shoulder, taking out some gum and then paying attention forward. “I'm sorry, I would like to run my own business one day, and this is where I have to start first.” This time I push her shoulder, and hear her mutter a ‘Yeah yeah whatever…’

I grabbed my bag and pulled out my notebook, took different coloured pens, and began to write down the slides, using other different coloured pens to write important texts and or highlights. It’s just girly things. We would be here for a while, as this lecture would take up to three hours, so I got comfortable. “What are you wearing tonight?” Marie whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder as she typed away.

“Probably something black,” I shrugged, “I might wear this new corset top and black jeans since I'm racing tonight.” Marie looked over at me with wide eyes, “But isn't your car still in the shop?”

“No, it got fully fixed two days ago, and tonight I wanna see if the new adjustments are working properly,” I say, taking a sip of water and rubbing my eyes as they feel dry. “Y/n are you sure that’s a good idea though? You just got your car back, and knowing how you race, especially after just getting it back can be dangerous. If something happens, all that work that was done would go to waste,” Marie stresses, and I notice that because she began to talk with her hands.

“I know the risks, trust me. But I need this money for me, my mom, and my little sister. I'm working two double shifts and if I win tonight, I'm set for the next two months. It won’t be an easy race, but at this point what more can I do?” I sigh and rub my temple, a small migraine wanting to form.

It wasn't easy anymore. It became harder when we had to move out of my dad’s place as he began to become a different and mad person. It wasn’t the environment I wanted to be involved in, let alone my mother and sister. It became especially harder when he came and did mass destruction on our property, and tried to hurt us. The night repeatedly lives in my head, the screams, the yelling, the smashing windows, the red and blue lights, it's hard to sleep as any time I close my eyes I just see him.

I always had a great relationship with him. We were close and happy. I grew up wanting to be him, and he always set examples and tried for us. He would do my hair, teach me how to cook his chocolate chip cookies, and even go on to show me how to play the piano. We spent every weekend working in his mechanic shop, working on dear old Darla for one day to be driven by me. The old black Ford was now ruined into pieces when he went crazy after discovering he would be arrested.

What changed in him to become that way, was the question I kept repeating over and over again. If the truth comes out one day, maybe we can be at peace. But for now, it's being cautious and assuring the safety of my family. I sacrificed a lot to be able to support us, as well as my mom. The car racing was something I randomly got into, my mom didn't like it, but in a way for me, I escaped reality.

The adrenaline rush. The speed. The rush overtakes my body. The determination to win as the prize in the end holds a lot of possession. Maybe even the idea of it being illegal also took a more motive of why not, as bad as it sounded. I became a hell of a driver, I was the best of the best, and some people took that personally.

The tracks and races became a second home to me. The ability to conduct and take charge of my own was truly an honour. For once, only I listened to myself instead of others. For once I could do something that made me happy, as much as it felt wrong to do. I met people, good and bad, and stayed away from the bad as they reminded me of my dad. A weekend like tonight started at the tracks but indeed by the city in the underground club Sahara.

I saved enough to buy myself a 2014 black Dodge Challenger. Slowly I made work by changing the motor from a V6 to a V8, running to almost 470 horsepower. The rims were also replaced with all black, and I added other features like a loud exhaust and a cold air intake system, just recently. This would’ve never been done if I didn't have Jimmy, an old friend of my dad’s. He never questioned what I did to my car, just wished me ‘good luck, and be careful’.

When my mom found out about my car, she threatened to kick me out. That same night I brought back $1,800 and left them on the table, muttering a quick “This is why I do what I do”. Since then she hasn’t questioned, just used the money for savings, groceries, and bills. I would of course help out, especially on bigger and expensive things, like Uni. Uni was expensive, and I sure as heck was lucky to afford what I could.

My first race was over a year ago, in the older tracks leaving Madrid. It was a secluded area only known to nearby residents, or people like me who raced, or those who went to live life a little. You could expect anyone there. I knew of this place after Marie and her girlfriend Kaia took me. My first race was that same night after a girl got pissed at me for accidentally bumping her shoulder with her boyfriend.

One thing led to another, and then you saw me at the finish line in Marie’s Grey Nissan Altima. That baby could run, period.

Part of me could say I also got addicted to how much money it would bring home. I didn't care if it was clean or dirty money, it met my needs, and I was grateful for it. Multiple people have gone against me but they can’t race like I can. There are tips and tricks to it, whether it is releasing the clutch early or letting the car struggle a bit before making the shift. Slow down or maybe speed up. You learn along the way.

My biggest rivals of them all were Jacey and Jacqueline. They made my life a living hell a week before finals. They insisted and threatened me to race them or else I would be kicked out and can’t ever place my foot on the tracks. They were the best anyone had seen, but I knew what they wanted. They were a part of a malicious gang in the northern part of Spain. If I won, I would be free and they were to never bother me, but if I lost I would do laundering and drug exchange.

I won that night, by some miracle. It turned out Jacey was racing unfairly and it didn't count as he had cheated. They would always go against me, and it became sort of a rival race whenever we did go against each other. Like tonight. Tonight would be a big night, it would be a packed race, and surely every young adult would be there.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re going against Jacqueline tonight? How could you have failed to tell me this?” Marie ran, her back across the wall as I got myself a redbull to survive the rest of the day. We had a 20-minute break, and now we were seated outside waiting to go back in.

“I didn’t know either, Max texted me this just a couple of hours ago,” I said, taking a sip of the energy drink. I pulled out my phone and showed her the message. “Well, I can see why you’re doing this then,” Marie points to the text of the amount of cash I could win. “What did you end up fixing in your car?”

“I did a bit of mostly everything. I added high-flow catalytic converters, high-flow mid pipes, high-flow fuel injectors, high-flow air induction systems, an upgraded header, and upgraded pulleys. Just newer stuff that the new challengers have nowadays,” I say, laughing at Marie's confused face staring back at me. “Well whatever you said, let’s hope it works out.”

“Trust me it will. Because you’ll be in the seat next to me to see” I smirked.

“Bitch no I am not, the fuck?” Marie gives me a puzzled look. I give her a look for using such profanity. I hated it, I didn't like such strong and hateful words, especially those that meant hurting someone's feelings. I never cursed, I just didn't see the fun or thrill of it, which shocked many.

“You are because you lost the bet last week. And Sheila is out of town. So better bring your mask and helmet,” I say, opening my iPad to get some studying done before my business class after this lecture. “Plus when have you ever turned down the opportunity to ride with me? I know you secretly love it,” I wink at her to which he just shakes her head and smirks.

“I'll do it, but only if you wear the black midi skirt I got you. As a matter of fact, I’ll ride with you only if you let me get you ready and get you sexy,” Marie says. I blush profusely and immediately shake my head no. I would rather die than be seen wearing anything more revealing than my boobs. I'm just too shy and not confident for it. I can’t rock outfits like Marie can.

“Funny but no. You know me, I am good with a revealing top and maybe some tight jeans,” I brushed her idea once again, but knowing how she could be, especially when she's a fashion major, it would be hard. “Either deal or no deal. You know you need me in order to race,” she tries to intimidate to which I finally agree. “I will make you the sexiest girl there. Who knows maybe you’ll be lucky and get laid,” she taunts, an evil grin on her lips.

“Marie!”

“Oh quit the act. We know you are shy and innocent, but you become a freak and a total show when you race. I'll see you tonight,” she winks and walks out, completely leaving the lecture.

—/— Jude’s Point of View —/—

After matches came recovery. And after recovery, it was either a day off or prepping for the next match. Luckily I had the gym area to myself, working with a physical trainer on my knee and doing a few exercises that were as much work. I just needed something to preoccupy my mind before I met with my publicist. It's not that I hated him, I just didn't tolerate such a person like him.

I dragged out this meeting as far as possible but knowing how he is, he wouldn't care. After briefly talking with the PT about a few stretches I could do at home, I walked down the cafeteria and met up with Eduardo, who invited lunch for the both of us. We sat down and just talked about the game plays and the upcoming international break.

Lunch went by quickly, now I found myself walking down the small hallway into the office that belonged to my publicist. I resented him even more for working at the training grounds. I would rather be anywhere else but here. I put myself together and walked into the office only for it to be empty. I just take a seat and go on my phone bored. When Jaime does walk in, he hangs up and opens the manilla folder, where stacks of papers are in.

“Jude you have to quit going out so much! Look at all these articles!” Jaime raised his voice and threw the printed papers onto the marble desk. I rolled my eyes and sunk into my chair, my legs naturally spread apart, as my hand came to my temple.

“Real Madrid’s new star boy stars on and off the pitch. Ancelotti��s new golden boy has a record similar to Grealish, could we expect to see the young player get involved in the same stuff? Oh, my favourite, Jude Bellingham is seen leaving the strip club after the place was recently investigated by local authorities!” Jaime read off the articles, leaning forward to slap the side of my head, when he noticed my unfazed look. “Okay, I get it! Shit!”

“No Jude you don’t get it! How many times have I told you this isn't England? You're in Spain. Dealing with both countries who are on your ass to find every single detail of you. They follow you around with a camera because you let them, you give them a reason too. It's already the fans doing it, but the paparazzi, no I won’t let that slide,”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do? I’ve done everything you’ve suggested me to do! I can’t stop them, or else I'll end up on the cover the next morning. I can’t just quit my fun, because of them. I deserve to have a nice evening with my friends and family, but they're always there!” I bite back.

Not even my mother keeps tabs on me like this man does. I appreciate Jaime, but it's moments like this where I want to get up and leave and do the opposite of what he tells me to do. He takes his job too seriously and overworks himself way too much. I can’t exactly be the person he wants me to be. I hate being driven around or being forced to be someone I'm not.

“We have no say and do on the paparazzi, you know that. But if you keep doing what you do, I'll have to get you a stricter PR contract, and I can assure you, it will be hell. You choose Jude. One more fuck up and it's the first text you’ll receive the next morning,” Jaime threatened.

“You can’t be serious. Jaime, I can’t be hidden away the entire time! I don’t give a shit about what they think of me! I'm focused on football and my family. I told you to let them be and write what they write!,” I say, standing up and grabbing my training bag to leave. “It's my job to protect your image as a person and footballer, Jude. And it will be like that. If you have such an issue, go ahead and fire me, but we both know what that will do for the both of us…”

“One more fuck up Jude, and you will see.” I scoff and walk out, slamming his door. The office workers jump in their seats, while I mumble out curses and insults towards him. Would he really go that far just to keep his job? Threaten my image for his self-satisfaction? Yes, he would. I sigh and scratch my chin impatiently, trying to come up with a different plan to avoid the PR contract he was talking about. But all I could do was come up with reasons and stuff to piss him off.

The idea of a PR stunt sounded stupid. Sure, I have had my share of scandals but nothing too serious like he dramatises. People just can't seem to stand the idea of no commitment, especially if it involves girls. They also couldn't stand the idea of a footballer wanting to go out and enjoy a night of themselves. Some people can be so unreasonable, like Jaime, I would say what I had to say, and I didn't care for anyone’s feelings especially if I spit out the truth.

“Yo! Hey Jude! What’s up? Looks like you got back from speaking with Carlo,” Eduardo comes up and dabs me up, teasing me for my stressed look. I chuckle, “Nah man. My publicist is pissing me off. Trying to tell me what to do and giving me shit about all these articles.”

“When will they learn,” he comments, his brow nudging to the obvious. “For the moment mine hasn't given me ‘advice’ or ‘warnings’ after our trip to South France.”

“Well lucky you. I just can’t stress about this shit right now. We have the upcoming important games, and I am determined to win. And if I do go out, he shouldn’t be up my ass about it every time,” I groan, taking out my phone and seeing a call from Aurélien. “Tchou, how can I help you?” I joke, referring to when he dealt with his situationship while on our trip to France.

“Ha ha, very funny. What are you up to tonight? We’re free tomorrow.”

“Probably nothing. Just walked out on my publicist, so If you have anything in mind to do, say it,” I put the phone on speaker so Eduardo could hear, and let him know. “Me and the guys were gonna head out the city to go to a car meet, out of Madrid,” he says. I give a look to Eduardo who just shrugs his shoulders not retaining the information.

“A car meet? Those exist here?”

“Yes, dumbass. You’d be surprised but, they're very fun. Although we shouldn't be there, it's the only place where people and paparazzi can’t recognize us. They treat each other and us like royalty, plus who wouldn’t mind some fun?” Aurélien says to us. I hesitate, only because of what just happened inside, but also the idea of it being illegal and caught. “You guys in or not?”

“Count me in.”

Jaime wouldn't know. And if Aurélien is saying we wouldn't be recognized, then why the fuck not? I'm not here to just pose for cameras and play. I'm also a regular person who deserves to live his life the way I want. Part of me thought of how bad this idea could be, but truthfully I didn’t give a shit, I just wanted to piss off Jaime. Aurélien advises us to dress nice since people who attended those car races often thought of them as fashion shows. Which is found myself calling the only girl who could help me out.

“Hey, Sunny? Sorry for the late call, could you help me out with an outfit for tonight? Just don't mention it to Jaime.”

—/— (Your Point of View) —/—

“Ok no- That’s like way too revealing! I couldn't pull that off” I brushed away the shortest skirt she found. “Nuh uh- No way. You're going to wear it, and it's going to be worn with these shoes and lace meshy top,” Marie comes behind me and puts both hangers to my front. “My whole butt is out in this skirt! People are gonna see my-” I waved with my hands to my lower region to which she snickers.

“Either you race or don’t,” Marie says, to which I just squint my eyes together. “Fine! I will at least pick out my jacket!” I pick up the clothes and quickly change into the pieces of clothes she gave me. My makeup was already done, a simple and not too heavy look since I had to wear a mask and helmet underneath while I raced. All I had to do was take my hair out of my rollers and apply some deodorant and jewellery and we could make the drive down.

Marie gasped as I walked out, clapping her hands excitedly as she approached me. “You look so fucking hot, I could make out with you!” Her hands roam and fix my skirt so they pull lower and hang around my hips. I give her a look but she quickly shrugs me. I go to the mirror and tug on both items. “I don't know whether to pull this up or or tug it down,” I say shuffling.

“Hurry! Fix your hair and put your boots on. You have a race to win!”

I pose for a selfie when I see Marie point her phone towards me, my hands on the steering wheel as I pull into the gravel road that heads to the main road to the tracks. Goosebumps raise my skin as I hear the music and loud car exhaust as we pull in. Other cars are doing donuts, which I find silly, or showing off their engines. “Hi Matty, how are ya tonight?” I ask the middle-aged man who sighs and hands me my racer number and time slot. He’s tired of his job, but just like everyone else here, he has his reasons. “Same old same old. I bet money on ya tonight, so you better win against that trashy girl Jacqueline,” he points out, handing me back the cashback after I paid. “Good luck tonight, make us proud!” he winks.

I smile and shift to one as I drive down to the start of the line. The tracks are old and kinda messy. They can shift from gravel to normal roads, which causes some drivers to lose focus. “Nervous for tonight?” Marie asks to which I nervously nod. “I mean it's against Jacqueline, we’ve had our shares in the past and she’s good,” I say.

“Yeah but not as good as you. Keep that in mind. Just think of the money, it will be your motive,” she says. We open the door and step out, I hear commotion and then look up to people cheering for me. I wave and thank them before walking over to our group who’s standing by the starting line. We all hug and chat about the race, which is filled with a lot of rivals going head to head.

I could feel my blood pumping as I watched the two Mustangs take out, their exhaust fumes following. The excitement you face also comes to anticipation as you watch which car will make it first to the end. The yellow Mustang wins by .4 seconds after they race for almost two minutes. I turn to the side when I hear my name being called, “Y/n, when are we gonna race?”

“As soon as you let me see what’s under your hood,” they scoff and walk off. It would've been too easy…

—/— (Jude’s Point of View) ---/—

The black LV suit was perfect for the occasion. Aurélien was right, people do dress as if they were attending fashion shows here. We all decided to go in two cars, making the almost forty-minute drive down to this closed-off restricted area. We followed the guide who led us up to the almost ‘VIP’ area.

The commotion was loud. People were either drinking, making out, or dancing. Or those who wanted to feel lucky, gambled money by playing poker. This truly did feel like a bad idea now, but I couldn't care less now that I was drinking a beer. We had clear and perfect views of the track, I was lucky to attend an F1 show in the past but this? This was completely different.

Fancy or new cars racing, and it was just the beginning. I talked with Eduardo for a good time as I observed the loud car go head to head towards the finish line. Music played loudly, but as Aurélien had said, no one recognized us. We step out and that’s when I notice the black challenger pull in. Two girls step out, but it's the driver who gets my attention. She chews gum and listens with boredom as they explain the rules to her.

My eyes roam down her slim and fit body, and I get a closer look when she quickly puts on her mask and helmet. I find myself not being able to look away, especially after she faces her opponent, ignoring their truce handshake. She’s too confident and now has my full attention.

Her windows are rolled down, her hand on the wheel, and the other is on the gear shift, patiently waiting for the light to turn green. “Who’s that?” I finally speak, completely forgetting I was in mid-conversation with Eduardo. “That’s Y/n in the black challenger. And in the red camaro is Jacqueline. They hate their guts, biggest rivals after Jacqueline's brother cheated on a race. Y/n, she’s the best of the best…” speaks a different guy. “Word on the street is that Jacqueline is involved in a gang, but who knows,” he says.

Y/n pulls out her thumb signalling she’s ready, and then quickly drives off when the light turns green. Just like the guy had said, she was the best of the best, quickly drifting and turning onto the tracks. Her car was faster than the red camaro, and you could tell the determination to win was there. I just waited for it to go the other way.

Soon yelling and commotion started when Jacqueline caught up, and took the lead, Y/n just maintained her speed and control as before. “What is she doing? She’ll lose if she doesn't catch up!” said another guy. I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms, looking back at the two cars on the race track. I didn’t understand how this worked, but it looked like not even I could make those turns, especially at those speeds.

Everyone gasped or oohed when the camaro lost control and failed to do the sharp tight turn correctly, cheering when Y/n went back to the lead and quickly made it to the finish line. We walked down to the starting line where she got out, and put her hands up, and cheered. She took her helmet and mask off, and that's when I truly was drawn to her facial features. “Bro? You’re drooling,” Brahim joked to which I just pushed his shoulder.

The crowd went quiet as the red camero pulled in, an angry Jacqueline and passenger getting off to confront Y/n. “You cheated!” she points at her to which the girl wearing all black just snorted and chuckled, “No babes. You just suck. I won, just like the other times before. Now go whine somewhere else and leave us alone for once.”

Her eyes connected with mine, and it felt like time just slowly flew by. Her lips parted, as she took me in, her hand holding the helmet and now stack of cash. She looked away and shyly smiled towards her friends, them congratulating her. She would nod then and there and only stick with those friends. “I’ll be back. Going to congratulate the winner,” I say and smile at Eduardo who wishes me luck. I don't need luck I'm Jude Bellingham.

I was determined to know more about her. Who she was, and why she raced especially. But before I could introduce myself, a loud bang and glass shattering prevented me from doing so. The last I saw while we ran was Y/n getting into her car and driving away. A loud car pulled near us, the familiar face and eyes locking with mine.

“Hurry! Get in!”

---/--- ( author's note) ---/---

hiiiii! first chapter eeekkkk! I hope you all enjoyed it and didn't think this was too long! I truly enjoyed writing this, and can't wait for you guys to read the rest. I'm also praying this doesn't flop or I'll be really upset... have an amazing day!

[corgiplays]

The urge and desire to start another glassheart fanfic is strong, but I will be brave and not fall into my chapter 3 curse that I have (in which the third chapters are always a struggle to finish as seen with my ronance fic...) fear not as I already started chapter 3 and will hopefully have it out before the week ends.

But....say that once I finish my wing au story would y'all be interested in another glassheart fic?

The plot will be under the cut for those that want to read it.

So I've been inspired by AuroraRose2081 newest fic along with Watcher (RomanticallyApocalyptic)'s Evil!Red fic and want to try my hand at a mix of those.

So main premise is that Red and Chloe weren't sent back two days before Castlecoming, but two months before it happened. They got to bond with each other's mothers and found out that Bridget had every right to be a villain due to the treatment she received from not just the VK's, but the AK's as well.

Wonderland is a place of unfiltered and unregulated magic. Everything from Wonderland including its people hold that magic inside of them, but the royal family (along with the other main characters) has it flowing in their blood hence why they seem to suffer from a madness. Many villains want this magic to strengthen their powers (but there is a heavy cost) while the Hero's want the magic like a drug (which also has a heavy cost).

Red and Chloe manage to make sure Bridget doesn't go down a destructive path at Castlecoming and go back to the present. Except everything is different now, much different.

Red and Chloe remember bits and pieces of their life before changing the past, it comes in dreams and nightmares both waking and sleeping.

In this new world the Queen of Hearts is kind, but Wonderland is not a part of The United States of Auradon, neither is Charmingsburg (no way Ella would let a town be named after the name her stepmother and sisters gave her), Corona, or Arendelle. This of course isn't great as the kingdoms with the most potent magical properties (pure magic, healing, and ice) along with the kingdom with the best military power are not under the Beast's rule.

Red has been raised to take the throne once her mother steps down and Chloe has been training to be at her best friend's girlfriend's side as a knight/personal guard which is so gay since Chad will be the next king of Charmingsburg.

When they come back the four unaligned kingdoms are on the brink of war with the United States of Auradon as the old king threatens the current rulers in his son's absence to join them.

And now Red, Chloe, and the other children of the kingdoms find themselves trying to keep a war from happening or letting the war happen.

---

Okay wow that's a lot, but I honestly can't wait to write this once I'm done with my wing au. If anyone has suggestions for what the other children of the kingdoms should be you should definitely tell me because I kind of suck at making characters. Either way I should actually sleep since I have work in the morning, but I hope y'all enjoy my little ramble.

[twisted-wonderland-memories]

A challenging…..lovers….???

(Ghost Marriage) Idia x Reader

Summary: You and Idia are lovers…. But it pains you to see that the Ghost Bride was trying to take Idia away from you.

CW: Swearing, Tiny crack (dont take this seriously xD)

When the news hits that your boyfriend got captured and was forced to marry the ghost bride. You lost your shit, how in the living hell did Idia do to deserve this living nightmare of a marriage. When you wanted to doing da boys that you need to get yo man, Crowley literally rejected your offer and you are literally stuck in anger mode (your not alone tho, Riddle and Ortho is in the same page as you on the path of destruction)

But when the boys failed to get the objective so clear, you and your tux team decided to crash the wedding. By being pretty and getting the genocide mode on.

(Aka, Me and da bois at 2am looking for Idia/j)

When you finally arrive, extreme relief fell on Idia cause the boys did warn the bride to let Idia go.

The ghost bride was warned so many times not to get the man who has a girlfriend/boyfriend, unfortunately it was too late when Idia literally called you by your username. That you realize...

Idia is going to have a long night with you.

She tried to take Idia away from you but you won't simply allow it and you manage to get your Idia back in your arms. (literally setting the poor boy free)

But once that is over, Idia can tell that you feel upset that you rarely feel love recently, sure there are other boys who would love to date you, but you choose him. Cause of that Idia gently hugs you and secretly apologizes just for you to hear as the ghost are trying to separate the two.

You had something that the ghost bride doesn't, and that is the way you accepted him who he really is. Idia secretly admits that you are the only one he accepts for a lover. Surely the Ghost Bride tried everything to win Idia back, but he decided to be brave and tell her that he belongs to you and you only.

She got mad and invites you to a fight, but you thankfully your tux group manage to rescue you just in the nick of time.

It really got chaotic especially rolling the log boys to the corner of the wall but it needs to be done, Idia was clingy to you and you made sure that you both are never separated. The tux team got your back and manage to defend you and Idia from the separation. Of course Puffy literally got mad and you can tell there was another fight.

But finally after a few talks or two things are finally back to normal, and Idia still won’t let you go cause of that.

Tho expect him to pull you for more hugs and kisses, yes he is honest that he isn’t cheating on you, he was literally trying his best not to kiss the ghost bride. The boys evenly told you that Idia had not kissed the ghost bride, cause if he does he dies and Ortho will bring destruction if that happens.

Bro, if your bestie is Riddle Rosehearts, his offers still stands on “Off With Your Head!” on Idia if he does anything stupid./j

Thankfully things are now resolved. And you are at least together with Idia, tho he isn’t planning on letting you go. After all, Idia is still traumatized from the event and now has phasmophobia so you might want to get ready to stay in his room for the night, bro ain’t recovering from that shit.

[doginabirdcage]

a muse by any other name

InuKag Week 2024. Prompt: contrast. I love this fic format and have been wanting to play with it for a while. I hope you like it too.

FIVE MINUTES BEFORE

Inuyasha is in the throes of a fitful reenactment of the path that led to his destruction. Kikyo's arrows were hurtling towards him at a vengeful speed. He could hear them sizzle as they made contact with everything except his flesh, but his gracefulness didn't last forever.

The arrow that hit him burned on the way through. It carved away at him for fifty years. He would never be the same again.

DAYS AFTER

Kagome stormed away from him, her ponytail swishing angrily with her movements. Looking at her dressed as a priestess was fucking with him. He was already on edge around her and this didn't help.

He ran after her, "Don't leave with the shards!"

HALF A CENTURY AGO

Kikyo calmly walked up a grassy knoll to meet him. He could see a creepy cave over her shoulder. The inside looked gloomy and dark. Thick dirt-covered roots hung over the mouth of the entrance.

"What's in there?"

"His name is Onigumo," she sighed, "he's a bandit with severe burns. He is..."

"Weird!" Young Kaede peeked out from behind her older sister.

"Hush now, Kaede. Whatever he's done, we cannot judge him. He's not long for this world."

DURING

Her smell was a combination of the familiar and the novel. Her face was eerily similar but uniquely different from Kikyo's. Her anger was captivating, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her because of it. That and she had the sacred jewel inside of her a moment ago.

HOURS AFTER

Old Kaede was dressing the girl's wounds and she hissed in pain when the bandages were smoothed over.

"Stop whinin'. You're alive, ain't you?"

"No one asked you!" She sat up too quickly and grimaced.

"Pay him no mind, Kagome. The boy is just mad that ye collared him."

"Right," she said smugly, "Sssss..."

Inuyasha flinched and stared at her accusingly. “Don't do it!"

"Then don't be mean!"

MONTHS LATER

Inuyasha stared at the arrow in the wall with disbelief. Was this really happening all over again?

"Why?"

Beads of sweat dripped down Kagome's forehead as she struggled to aim her bow at him. "G-get away... Inuyasha!"

His feet were glued to the floor. Tsubaki was controlling Kagome. Nothing could make him leave her.

"Idiot! As if I would leave you right now!"

He ran head first into her arrowhead, consequences be damned.

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS IN THE FUTURE

"Put this cap and shoes on, Inuyasha. No one can see your ears. Don't make that face! You want to try WacDonald's, don't you?"

"I'm not sure it's worth the cost," he grumbled silently as Sota bounced around merrily at their feet.

"I can't wait for you to try barbecue sauce!"

Even though his ears were molded to his head the whole time because of the hat and his feet were imprisoned, the barbecue sauce was good.

ONE NEW MOON LATER

"I guess being a full demon might be nice. But I like you just the way you are, Inuyasha."

TWO YEARS AFTER

Had Inuyasha known that he'd never see Kagome again, he might have behaved better.

Held her tighter.

Agreed with her more.

Told her...he didn't know what he'd tell her.

But had he known, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much to look at the empty well. Maybe he wouldn't visit it so often.

FIVE YEARS AFTER

"Her name is Moroha," Kagome told their friends with a watery voice. She was still in the birthing bed. Her hair was wild and some strands stuck to her face. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Yes, she is, he thought.

[preciouslandmermaid]

quiet fury in your head [viii]

Dream of the Endless x F!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction

Note: I am still alive. Here is some angst, but then finally some progress with these idiots relationship lmao.

No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.

Warnings: none !

Rating: 18+

(Read on AO3)    ||   (masterpost for other chapters)  

In the years that follow, it rains often in the Dreaming. You are grateful for your cloak to keep the rainwater from your face and hair. The rain reminds you of Dima and it tastes like regret. If only I had not asked for the storm. I could have driven the man to madness without her help. But you wanted the mortal’s punishment to be swift and absolute. You wanted him dead for the crimes he enacted against his child. I don’t regret what I did, I regret that Dima was banished for it. You are, despite everything, the embodiment of rage, and rage is not gentle. It does not deter from its destined path due to human definitions of morality. In your eyes, in your heart, the man deserved to die.

Dream is true to his word and does not speak to you. Sometimes, however, you think you see his shadow between the library shelves, through the birch tree trunks, and among the fields of golden wheat.

My time here must be ending soon. It must. You kick a pebble aside and settle on a damp rock overlooking the churning gray-blue oceanic waters. Dream cannot keep me here forever. He could. Technically. But that was beside the point. You crack the spine of your book and lay it open like a slaughtered offering on your lap.

Once I’m free, I’ll find my way through the fabric of the universe and reunite with Dima. You had two oaths to fulfill: Return to the Otherworld and bury your sister’s tokens and then travel through the various realms and find Dima. She’s the embodiment of storms. She won’t be too hard to find. You trusted your faithful friend would answer your call once you were free of the Dreaming.

You lost your goddesshood, your worshipers, your sisters, and your friend. Yet in the light of what you’ve lost, you haven’t lost your life. You won’t take that for granted. You pull the hood of your cloak a little tighter around your face, ignoring the pinpricks of cold rain, and begin to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sister,” Dream says, “what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What, I can’t come and visit my brother?”Death maneuvers around one of the marble pillars. “It’s rather dreadful out there, you know. Couldn’t you make it a bit more cheery?” She tilts her head to the rain surging across the stained glass windows.

He bristles. The argument with you and Dima’s banishment...it doesn’t matter how much linear time passes...the Dreaming continues to rain. He doesn’t regret banishing Dima. It was necessary. Your unhappiness was collateral damage. Death must pick up on a shift in his expression. She lightens and loops her arm with his. Dream finds he is pulled along by the cosmic gravity of his sibling.

Death is like that, you know. When she takes your hand, you don’t have any other choice but to follow her.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Death says.

“I don’t know who you mean,” he murmurs. He can’t be that transparent. He isn’t.

“I get it, you know,” she continues, heels clicking over the tiles, “she’s the embodiment of your favorite siblings.” She smiles. The Dreaming sings in response. “Death and Destruction.”

The song of the Dreaming rapidly cools at the mention of their wayward, lost brother. You are not like Destruction. Firstly, you don’t have his sense of humor.

“Why are you here, sister?” Dream tries again to dissuade her from poking into his life and his realm. He is sure she means well, but he doesn’t need a keeper. The situation with you – it’s his realm, his business, and his priority. In time, you’d eventually forget your bond to Dima. He’s sure of it. You’ll eventually grow bored of his silence. You used to be such a restless creature, running through his Dreaming, and he doubts those instincts have vanished in the past few centuries. Time in the dreaming is infinite and he has all the time in the world to wait it out.

He’s certain you will seek him out before he ever seeks you.

Death says, “Are you going to keep her here forever?”

“No.”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to know.” Death smiles again and vanishes. He sighs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a city in the Dreaming made of light sandstone and glossy jade. A glass palace is suspended in the sky and anchored to the city below by great iron chains. On sunny days, the light reflects from the castle, and a thousand rainbows illuminate the city, and the fabric merchant stalls are removed, lest they catch on fire from an acute ray of light. The city functions like those in the waking world, with politics, drama, festivals, and ruin. The Dreaming is not a utopia but, its’ inhabitants live lives with intrinsic grooves and patterns like those of a mandala painting.

Today is the ‘Night of a Thousand Lights,’ a decennial tradition within the city. You’ve missed the last two...or was it three? Time. Meaningless to a would-be God. Either way, the last time you were here was with Dima. You see her in every swath of cobalt cloth that’s folded and shelved, in every bright laugh, in the droplets of sparkly water from the fountain where several children are kicking and playing with their loose pants lifted to their knees.

“Kimiyah!” A pregnant woman wraps her arms protectively around the swell of her stomach as she calls for her child.

In a flash, you see Macha, her eyes blazing, her hair shiny copper and fanning over her face. Your memory is a vice. You can remember your sisters as easily as breathing. You simply...choose not to dwell on it. You will dwell when you can act. So long as you are trapped within the Dreaming, you cannot bring them back, no matter how much you wish it. Soon, you promise yourself. The Dreaming will not be my prison forever. You shelve the thoughts like the merchants shelving their dyed fabrics and wander through the narrow, dusty streets.

A pair of massive purple peacocks strut through the street as a leash leads them. Their owner, you presume, holds up a bundle of ribbons for patrons to tie to their lanterns. Your heart aches. You recalled that Dima’s lantern had seven dark blue ribbons tied to it. You hail the gentleman and his dark, bushy eyebrows lift as you pluck three ribbons from his fingers.

One dark green, for Macha, for the fields she so lovingly tended, the green isles of your home.

One silver, for Badb, for the color of her hair, the quicksilver of her tongue, and the shiny pieces that laid upon the burial mounds.

One dark blue, for Dima, for the clouds she pranced through and in remembrance of the storms she wrought.

You are grateful in this moment that Dima is not dead. She is merely banished. It is a fate kinder than the one given to your sisters and the rest of the Gods. You keep wandering, smelling spice, listening to the thousand tongues of mortals and dreams, and stepping through iridescent slices of rainbows that warp around the buildings.

You don’t see Dream, but you feel him. He is inside every inhale. Every speck of dust that clings to your shins. You rub your fingers over the silk ribbon and your eyes linger on the beautiful mosaic architecture of the city. How could someone so infuriating create something so painfully beautiful?

You hug your lantern close to your chest and follow the procession as the sky softens to purple. You nod in gratitude after someone lights your lantern for you and watch the tiny flame dance within.

“Tonight, we release a thousand lights,” a woman said, wearing a ceremonial dress, “and we wish upon them like stars.”

The first lantern is released and swiftly followed by a dozen others. You close your eyes. Reunion. It is the wish that matters. Your freedom is an inevitability, but your reunion with your sisters and Dima is not. You open your eyes and Dream stands before you, less than ten paces away, a pale-faced shadow in a city of golden light and jade and twilight.

Your brow furrows, confusion mixed with anger and desire churns within, and you pointedly turn your face away from him as you release your lantern—the silk ribbons trail after it like a jellyfish’s tentacles.

“Do you need me, Dream Lord?” you ask coolly. He wounded you. You serve him, as Desire willed it, but no more and no less.

The lanterns behind him create hazy, golden starlight as they drift lazily into the sky.

“Will you walk with me?” He offers his elbow.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and fall into step through the throng of dreamers and mortals alike. The children are clapping, and giggling, and pointing to their lanterns as their parents and caregivers hold one another close and smile. There is an air of camaraderie and comfort...and joy. A blissful, and hopeful joy as the Night of a Thousand Lights is a celebration to invite fortune into their lives. A wish made on this night was destined to come true – or so it was said.

“I believe I said I did not wish to speak to you unless it was to release me,” you remind him.

“Yes, I recall.” He steps smoothly and the crowd parts like river water curving around a stone. “Have you made your wish?”

“Does it matter to you?” Your jaw clenches. “Perhaps I wished for Dima’s return, but we both know that will not occur. Are you releasing me or not?”

“When you leave the Dreaming where will you go?”

“To the Otherworld, not only to fulfill my final task to Desire but to see its ruin for myself.” There is no point in lying because there is no victory to be won by keeping your future a secret. You are a creature with ambition if nothing else. “Perhaps to the mortal world for a while. I’d like to see the changes for myself.”

“Will you ever return?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His question remains suspended in the air among the lanterns. He has stopped the idle walking and now faces you, aware that his expression is beseeching. He cannot help it. He cannot help himself. He thought his stubbornness would overrule yours, but he has failed. You are within his Dreaming, but not a part of it. They call you the Queen of Nightmares, but he wishes…oh, how he wishes...for more. A Queen of Dreams and Nightmares.

You slide your hand away from his elbow and cross your arms. Defensive. Strong. Your eyes alight with that inner fire – the fire he saw on your first meeting, the eternal passion that burns within you. He could stare forever into your eyes and never tire of it even if eternity passed he found himself at the end of all things.

“I would return if my friend Dima could return alongside me.”

“Is that so?” he murmurs. “Your affection for her has not waned.”

He traces the shape of your smirking mouth.

“Do I seem a fickle Goddess to you?”

“No,” he replies, “you have shown stalwart loyalty.”

You tear your gaze from him and look up into the sky – no doubt searching for your lantern among the others. Dream finds it. He coaxes it downward with gentle wind and a soft hand until the lantern is floating between you. The ribbons wave and flutter, waiting for its next journey into the dark sky. He can guess your wish. You wish for freedom. A wish that he – and only he – can grant. But indulging in your wish will leave him...in a world without you.

“One ribbon for each sister,” he guesses.

“One for Dima,” you lift the dark blue one, “and two for my sisters.”

He feels the ribbon slip from your fingertips and Dream nudges the lantern back into the sky with a small flourish of his arm. “She was my first friend,” you say quietly, “I didn’t consider myself friends with the other Gods. Not really. And my relationship with my sisters...it was close to friendship, I believe, but still...different. Dima chose me.”

The music and sounds of revelry dull around him.

“She worshiped you and she served you,” Dream says, “we...Gods, Endless, we don’t have friends nor do we need them. I am not friends with any of my subjects.” He is close to his ravens, he supposes, but the word ‘friend’ doesn’t fit correctly. It hangs like an overly large coat.

You wave him off in a flippant gesture. “You don’t understand, Morpheus.” You watch your lantern float into the sky among the pinpricks of flickering orange and gold. “And I do not expect you to. I am neither God nor Endless, as I live between worlds.”

Dream takes a step closer. “If it’s friendship you desire, then I can create a hundred friends for you, each more wonderful than the last.”

“I don’t want creations, Dream.” You frown. “You could create an identical twin to Dima, but it would not be her...and I would miss her all the more for it.”

You were happier when Dima was here. He knows this. But, his decision cannot be so quickly undone.

“In time,” he begins, “I will allow Dima to return. I will lift her banishment.”

You shrug and your expression...closes. He feels it like an icy wind at his back. You are withdrawing and retreating. A protective shell encompasses you instead of the bright, white-hot, and righteous anger that he is familiar with. It is at this moment that Dream realizes he misses you. You stand a foot away and yet he cannot reach you. You may as well be on the other side of the Dreaming – if the Dreaming bothered with meddlesome things like directions and width. He has caused you pain and suffering beyond the grief and agony that you dutifully hide.

A raindrop lands on his cheek. He steps closer. His hands are trembling. He wills them to close, to stop. Your head tilts to the side – and he knows that there is some part of you, no matter how weakened or buried, that senses his fear. He is afraid to lose you. He is afraid to let you go. Another step.

“You have done your duty, Morrigan.” He exhales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You scan Dream’s face for deception, but he is unsmiling and serious. There is no humor to him. He is all dark angles and dark hair and keen, sharp eyes. Your heart trips inside your chest. You lick your lips and step closer as if drawn by an invisible string to him, and your breath shudders from within. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“Am I free to leave the Dreaming?”

Dream’s hand cradles the side of your face. The Dream Lord is to be my undoing. You remind yourself of your sister’s prophecy, but it no longer holds weight. If Morpheus was your death and your doom, then surely it would have happened by now. Your older sister was never wrong, but maybe her death rendered her prophecies obsolete. You inhale sharply as Dream’s thumb skates across the delicate skin below your eye.

“You are,” he whispers, “and you are free to return as you wish. The Dreaming will be open to you…and to Dima as well.”

Your fingers crawl along his chest and grip the lapels of his woolly coat. “Do you promise?” Be it God, or Endless, their word is their bond.

A heavy weight presses into your chest. You have dreamed of your eventual release a million times, but you never imagined it would look like this surrounded by flickering paper lanterns and twirling ribbons beneath a palace made of glass. His eyes widen imperceptibly, but otherwise, his expression remains grave.

“Yes.” He rests his forehead against yours. “As long as you promise to return.”

“Very well,” you say and the words come out choked, congested with relief and euphoria. Freedom at last. Freedom. A chance for a reunion just as you had wished. Dream collects your hands and joins them with his at the center of his chest.

Dream whispers, “Until next we meet.”

[hanamukes]

[Translation] Kanon Takao and Rico Sasaki's Animate Times interview (April 2024)

Animate Times put out a series of three interviews, conducted with Kanon Takao (actress of Sakiko/Oblivionis) and Rico Sasaki (actress of Uika/Doloris). In them, they talk in great depth about their characters, their love for the band members, Ave Mujica's concerts, aspirations they have for the band, the upcoming anime, and more!

For ease of reading, I have compiled all three interviews into one post, as they were only published days apart from each other.

If you're interested in Ave Mujica, be sure to check out the directory I compiled of all of their content, including more interviews like this!

Total word count: 6600

Ave Mujica is noble, beautiful and bewitching. They put on shows that resemble musicals, both mysterious and gothic. On January 27th, 2024, they held their 1st LIVE Perdere Omnia, which was a roaring success.

Ave Mujica is a new band under the BanG Dream! project, debuting on April 10th, 2023.  Through a series of images and social media posts, they had their users solve riddles, and drew attention with the way they bend one’s sense of reality and delusion. They debuted as a band in the finale of the anime BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!!. Next January, they’ll be getting a sequel anime focused on them in the spotlight, BanG Dream! Ave Mujica.

We interviewed Rico Sasaki (guitar/vocals, as Doloris/Uika Misumi) and Kanon Takao (keyboard, as Oblivionis/Sakiko Togawa). Over the span of three parts, we had them discuss their path with the band.

…Welcome to the world of Ave Mujica.

Translated by Seine (@hanamukes)

To think she’d call him a trash father

――Takao-san, your character Oblivionis/Sakiko Togawa is a key character in Ave Mujica, as well as in the anime BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!!.

 Takao:  Sakiko is the girl who put all the stories into motion. Even CRYCHIC was a band Sakiko started, but something happened and she dropped it. Then she brought about the formation of Ave Mujica. She’s always the one who gets all the gears turning, so she truly is the type of character who puts the story into action.

――She both puts things into motion as well as drives all those around her mad, wouldn’t you say?

 Takao:  Bring about the destruction of the beginning, bring about the destruction of the beginning… Her heart is under a lot of distress, and the sequel anime will shed light on this. It goes over how she felt during various moments, so I hope everyone’s looking forward to it. I really want everyone to see it!

 Sasaki:  Same here. I want to talk about it so badly!

――I’m dying to know myself, but I’ll just look forward to the day it gets revealed (laughs). Do you mind if I inquire about how you two approach tackling your characters?

 Takao:  For me, I’d never voiced a character like this before in an anime. At the start, Sakiko is a pure, kind, warm, proper girl, but midway through something happens and a shadow is cast over her. She starts saying harsh things to those around her and even I was taken back by it.

I did my acting as the “light” Sakiko pretty straightforwardly, but “dark” Sakiko is strong-forced, fragile, angry and sorrowful. I tried to capture her with the nuance of her wearing a mask, which conceals the truth of her heart, and all the little nuances that come with the gap between her outward appearance and how she feels deep down.

――Did you know about Sakiko’s change when you auditioned for her?

 Takao:  No. Rather, I didn’t know she was supposed to be a bright girl at the start. What I saw when I was first shown her character was the Sakiko we know today. When I started recording, I thought, “She really used to be so pure, huh?”

――You didn’t know about the “I’m home… you trash father.” scene either?

Takao:  Sure didn’t (laughs). I really knew nothing at the start. I was as shocked as everyone else about that line. When I first received the script, I looked at that line and wondered “Whose line is this?” and when I saw “Sakiko” written beside it, I went “She says this?!”

――Sasaki-san, could you talk a bit about Uika Misumi?

 Sasaki:  Uika Misumi is a girl still shrouded in mystery. I find her complex, but I also share a lot in common with her, such as my love of the stars and music. In BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!!, she tells Tomori “You can convey a lot in singing. You can even convey the things you can’t put into words,” and it resonated with me a lot too. She holds memories of her friend Saki-chan close to her heart, and being able to interact with her saves her in a way. She’s also busy with her idol work and being a student, so she’s a hard worker. However, she has a lot of dark sides to her too, and I just want the sequel anime to air already.

I think Uika and Tomori can connect their hearts a lot as two vocalists. Though Tomori-chan approaches it with the idea that “I can’t become human unless I sing”. With Uika, she portrays this sense of “when she sings, the monster known as Doloris emerges”. There’s still a lot we don’t know about her, so I hope everyone will wrap their heads around the mystery that is Uika until the anime airs. When rewatching the anime, you can look at her expressions and make your own assumptions about her and such. The sequel hasn’t aired yet, but their story is being told in our concerts, so make sure to watch those and let your imagination go wild.

――So you’ve been coming up with your own theories about her too?

 Sasaki:  Correct. I wonder just when we’ll get more about her backstory…

 All:  (laughs)

 Sasaki:  You just can’t help but want to know more about things you’re kept in the dark about. Whenever I go in to record, I’d ask the director about that regarding her, and every time I’d get told “I can’t tell you yet, sorry!” (laughs)

 Takao:  Right! They won’t tell me anything either!

 Sasaki:  We’re always shocked whenever we read the new scripts.

 Takao:  They just don’t know how to tell us.

 Sasaki:  I’ve never seen an anime quite play out like this before. Please look forward to it.

Sasaki-san’s notebook, which she updates daily

――You held your 0th Live, Primo die in scaena on June 4th, 2023. You performed on stage with masks and robes on, shrouded in mystery. How did you feel during that time?

 Sasaki:  We couldn’t talk about anything so it was a weird feeling. But we could feel the enthusiasm from the audience, so I was happy about that. Our “voltage” gradually rose, and we talked amongst ourselves about what we wanted to convey on stage, and what kind of band we wanted to make this. We talked about all sorts of things about our future, and that got our spirits up a lot.

 Takao:  Ave Mujica started out hidden behind masks and riddled with mystery, which was unseen before in the Bandori project. I was worried about whether the fans would accept us. But Ave Mujica is a band where we put trust in each other’s skills and efforts, and from the get-go we’ve felt confident that with the five of us together, everything would turn out alright.

 Sasaki:  Our bond has grown so strong, it’s out the roof! (laughs)

 Takao:  I’m almost scared to know the full depths of how much we could love each other!

 Sasaki:  We have so much trust in each other, this band fills me with the feelings of “I love having people who uplift me around,” and “being in a band is so much fun!”

――When did you start feeling such a closeness?

 Takao:  (looks at Sasaki) When did we?

 Sasaki:  I almost want to say from the very start (laughs).

 Takao:  It really did just happen without us realizing it. Though Ricochi joined us a little later.

 Sasaki:  I was nervous at first if I’d be welcomed in, since the four of them were already really close by then. It was the first time I’d ever properly been in a band, so I did some looking into everyone before I joined.

 Takao:  She has all of our profiles jotted down in a notebook.

――That’s amazing!

 Sasaki:  I do. I was just so excited to meet everyone.

 Takao:  It didn’t take long for us to think “Ricochi fits in absolutely perfectly!” Whenever she sings Kamisama, Baka (T/N: God’s a Fool), I just think “Oh God is anything BUT a fool for the blessing that is Ricochi being our vocalist!”

 Sasaki:  I’m so glad to hear that!

――What kinds of things do you have written down about everyone?

 Sasaki:  Let me start with Kanon Takao (laughs).

 Takao:  That’s embarrassing! (laughs)

 Sasaki:  I have her likes, dislikes, personal history…

――You’ve got a whole analysis on her!

 Sasaki:  All five of us are good friends even in private and we hang out together a lot. I always write down the new things I learn about them from those interactions.

――So you update it in real time?

 Sasaki:  I do. For instance, Akanen (Akane Yonezawa, who voices Amoris/Nyamu Yuutenji) told us she grew a little bit, so I jotted that down. I’ve already filled half the pages in the book. Whenever we do stuff as Ave Mujica, whether for recordings or concerts, I have the book glued to my person.

 Takao:  Whenever we go out to eat together, we’ll talk about things we want to do together and songs we want to sing, and she’ll always immediately jot it down in her book.

 Sasaki:  I even have our song lyrics all written down in it. I use it for everything.

――You’re like Ave Mujica’s secretary.

 Sasaki:  While staring at our song lyrics in it, I’ll jot down notes of how I want to move around during the instrumental breaks, and we’ll try them out in our rehearsals.

 Takao:  We all gather around her notebook.

――Your notebook is like a compass for the band. Is that correct?

 Takao:  It really is. We all hold a lot of love.

 Sasaki:  Nontan bought all five of us matching sweaters, and I bought us all matching rings.

――Is it the ring you’re wearing today?

 Sasaki:  Yes! It’s in the shape of a treble clef, and I thought they felt very Ave Mujica-like.

 Takao:  I should have worn mine, too!

 Sasaki:  I’m just happy knowing everyone else owns one too.

 Takao:  She gave us the matching rings when she joined the band. That got me thinking “it’s fun to have us all wear the same things!” so I’m always looking for things with moons on them to buy for us all.

 Sasaki:  I get you (laughs). I made my phone case Ave Mujica-like too. I just end up gravitating towards these things. Actually, with the rings I wasn’t sure if I should actually hand them out to everyone, but my manager talked me into it.

 Takao:  Is that so? (laughs)

 Sasaki:  I thought “but isn’t that kinda pushy of me?” (laughs) But everyone seemed to love them and they all put them on, so that made me happy.

 Takao:  When I got it, I thought “she’s such a nice person,” and it made me fall in love with you on the spot.

 Sasaki:  I’m so glad you all liked them!

The band itself is dark, but the members themselves are bright as can be

――You all hold a lot of love for each other, don’t you?

 Sasaki:  We really do. Nontan’s always making videos of us together.

 Takao:  I pull up pictures we all took together and compile them and make edits. Then I send them to everyone on our birthdays, or before our concerts in order to cheer them on.

 Sasaki:  The quality is so high, I almost wish she’d share them in public. They’re our Mujica Movies, full of love for everyone.

 Takao:  Also, the other day I visited a Shinto shrine and wrote a prayer on one of the wooden tablets. I wrote, “I hope that Ave Mujica will forever be friendly, full of life, and maturity.”

 Sasaki:  The worldview we portray is dark, but us cast members are very warm.

 Takao:  Everyone is so very kind.

――You seem blessed with such kind members.

 Takao:  It really feels like a miracle!

 Sasaki:  I couldn’t imagine us with even one of us not here. I’m so proud of us.

The movements are as important as the music itself

――In what ways did you prepare for your 0th live, Primo die in Scaena?

 Takao:  I remember us gathering around Ricochi’s notebook together.

――The same notebook you discussed in the previous part, yes?

 Sasaki:  We put a lot of thought into the concert while we all went out to lunch together. Though at the time, we were still wearing robes, and we really needed to convey the worldview of the band in quite an intense way. We took our rehearsals as seriously as the actual concert, and I remember us borrowing all sorts of advice from the staff.

I’m still quite nervous and anxious even now, but during 0th, it took everything for me to be able to act. When I looked back at our footage, I thought “I wish I’d done more to engage with the other bandmates, and been a bit more confusing”. When we performed as the opening act for Roselia’s concert and of course during our 1st live, I put in a lot more movements to convey the world we’re creating better.

 Takao:  It’s true that during 0th, we were all quite focused on our own instruments. I think that also portrays our worldview in its own way, but still, we talked after about how we wanted to focus less on just the music and more on the movements as well. Whenever our concerts end, we think “let’s become even better performers”. We’re always growing more after each concert.

 Sasaki:  We really want to make Ave Mujica an even bigger band.

【公式ライブ映像】Ave Mujica「Mas?uerade Rhapsody Re?uest」（Ave Mujica 0th LIVE「Primo die in scaena」より）

――So you band members enjoy Ave Mujica as much as the fans do.

 Takao:  I think even in a world where I wasn’t in Ave Mujica, I would still become a massive fan. I like to enjoy Ave Mujica both in the perspective as a band member as well as a fan myself.

――It’s hard to picture Ave Mujica without you.

 Sasaki:  Exactly! I’d want you here no matter what.

 Takao:  I’m not going anywhere now that I’m here! I promise! (laughs)

――I see though. That really goes to show how appealing Ave Mujica and its world are.

 Takao:  Yes. I love it so much!

A world that is one of a kind. A band with no limitations to it

――In regards to Ave Mujica’s world, it really is quite unique within the setting of Bandori.

 Sasaki:  It truly is unique. It’s one of a kind, really. It’s almost like rather than showing everyone how it develops, it’s showing an already completed world to the audience.

 Takao:  There’s always this pressure of “we need to keep the audience’s expectations high”.

 Sasaki:  That’s true. Whenever we perform live, it’s like the world is being completed.

――In the previous part of the interview, you claimed you weren’t sure if Bandori’s fans would accept Ave Mujica because of how different it is. We interviewed MyGO!!!!!’s Rin Tateishi and Coco Hayashi and they expressed the same sentiments of feeling nervous.

 Sasaki:  We really all were worried sick about this.

 Takao:  MyGO!!!!! also started holding concerts without showing their faces on stage, as we did.

――In a sense, MyGO!!!!! and Ave Mujica really do contrast each other. What are your thoughts regarding this?

 Sasaki:  While watching the anime, you can really see how MyGO!!!!! also goes through a lot of struggles of their own. But even within that, you can see some sort of sparkling image from them. It’s almost like how after it rains, puddles on the asphalt will sparkle and shine.

To contrast that, Ave Mujica is like a black hole. It’s as if there’s some sort of shining light within a black void. Musically, we have the impact of being uniquely theatrical and suspenseful.

――You’re very gothic and metallic.

 Sasaki:  This band was the first time I tried playing heavy metal. I never realized how much fun it was! You pour your soul into it, and there’s a lot of specific technique involved but it’s not necessarily “uniform”. It’s quite unconventional, and there’s some pretty absurd techniques involved in each and every person’s part. We’re all trying our absolute hardest with it, and now that we’ve actually made this world, we want to continue to polish and refine it.

 Takao:  MyGO!!!!!’s story is one of youthful experiences. When you think about everyone’s skill levels in it, in a good way I think it accurately represents humans and their weaknesses. Sakiko has bonds with CRYCHIC of course, with Tomori’s songs as well as her bonds with Taki and Soyo, and she looks at MyGO!!!!! fervently.

On the other hand, Ave Mujica is unrealistic, and it tells the story of an experience that you’re not intended to have ever experienced before. It’s like looking at a work of art, and also in a good way I think it’s a band that does not accurately represent humans and their weaknesses. The overwhelming world Ave Mujica presents is its strength. Ave Mujica doesn’t hold your typical concerts, they incorporate stage plays into it. The setting is reliant on it being like a drama, and I think it’s a band you can enjoy both visually and audibly.

 Sasaki:  The setlist for our 1st live was based around the story parts, so during rehearsals we would all discuss in depth where to put what songs in the order and tried all sorts of ideas out. Ave Mujica’s songs all have their unique quirks to them, so it makes it hard to come up with the perfect setlist. We talked with the producer and came up with ideas on how to play the songs while coming up with the right facial expressions and movements to match.

For instance, even if I smiled during a specific song in previous performances, if the setlist for this concert had me follow that song up with a darker one, I tried to be more on the cooler side in anticipation of that. While it’s not easy by any means, I love how much depth there is to the musical expression for this band.

 Takao:  The sky is really the limit for us.

 Sasaki:  It’s really fun making our own world completely unrestricted. There’s times where we come up with crazy requests for the staff and it causes all sorts of mayhem and trialing, but I find even that to be such a joy.

 Takao:  I love how it feels like we’re coming up with this ourselves. Afterwards, I’ll see all sorts of theories in our Twitter tags being made about us, like “Oh, so did this mean that I wonder?” and I’ll always go “Yes!” (laughs)

Like with the drama parts for our 1st live, our lines were pre-recorded and we just moved our bodies without opening our mouths to lip sync or anything. That was something we came up with while discussing with our producer; that because we’re supposed to be dolls, we wouldn’t move our mouths to express ourselves. There were fans who caught onto that, and I was so excited I sent stuff about it in Ave Mujica’s LINE group chat (laughs).

 Sasaki:  She’s always sharing stuff she finds like that.

 Takao:  I send things like, “Look! Everyone caught on to how we meant to portray this!”

 Sasaki:  When people first experience our concerts, they wonder “what is this band trying to portray?” but then they pick up on what’s going on and they enjoy both the play parts and the song parts. In a way, it feels like our audience is helping make the world with us.

――It’s like the audience is another part of Ave Mujica.

 Sasaki:  Yes. They’re our witnesses and accomplices after all.

From the 0th live to the 1st one

――What kinds of things do you consider when performing as Ave Mujica?

 Takao:  With Sakiko, I think hard about what motions she would make and such. She grew up as a proper lady, so I try to make her still feel elegant when performing. I also try to really portray that she is the founder of Ave Mujica in my performances of her, so I’ve been rehearsing that plenty.

 Sasaki:  When I perform, I try to convey that I’m Doloris, and no longer “Uika Misumi”. I try to keep in mind that Uika is being possessed.

 Takao:  In the anime Sakiko makes a lot of fierce expressions, but when she’s on stage, she smiles a lot. I was surprised at first when I realized that. So I try to have Oblivionis have a bewitching aura to her. I really try to make it seem like she’s enjoying herself on stage, and I keep that in mind with my movements and gestures for her.

――Is it like you’re also being possessed by your role, Takao-san?

 Takao:  I like to look back on the anime before performing, because if I can’t get into portraying Sakiko or Oblivionis properly, I won’t enjoy it myself. So I guess I would say I’m possessed by my role. Ricochi, what about you?

 Sasaki:  (Doing an Oblivionis impression) Down to my fingertips.

 All:  (laughs)

 Takao:  She’s always doing impressions of her (laughs).

 Sasaki:  I think Nontan’s really impressive for how much subtle nuance she puts into portraying her character. During 0th live, all I had in mind was “I just need to move”.  When looking back at the footage, I thought “I really didn’t represent our world well enough,” and seeing how Nontan acted, it was like she’s elevated out of the concert hall to her own world. I swear I saw a halo above her head (laughs).

 Takao:  (laughs).  Take Choir ‘S’ Choir for instance. I play it as if I’m in a grassy field. In my head, I imagine myself in different places as I play, and it’s almost weird to put into words.

 Sasaki:  I can always tell!

 Takao:  I’m so glad!

 Sasaki:  I can also tell “ah, that note she played felt so solemn,” and “she sounds like she’s having fun over there”.

 Takao:  I always try to convey my feelings into my sound and movements, so I’m glad it gets across. Though whenever I see Doloris, it really makes me feel like I’ve entered Ave Mujica’s world for real.

 Sasaki:  Aw, I’m so glad!

 Takao:  It’s neither Ricochi nor Uika Misumi. It’s Doloris. When I see you turn into her, I also feel something click within me.

 Sasaki:  It’s like we flick on a switch in each other.

 Takao:  I feel that when I look at the other members as well. I think something else fun about the band is by watching our movements and interactions, it makes you ask all sorts of questions about the characters and their relationships with each other.

 Sasaki:  We touch hands with each other and look at each other while singing and stuff. We come up with those things after a lot of discussion amongst ourselves. I think 1st live really opened the breadth of Ave Mujica’s musical expression.

“We always sing by going with the flow”

――What kinds of discussions did you band members have in preparation for your first live, Perdere Omnia?

 Sasaki:  Around New Years as the concert drew closer, we started doing video calls with each other to share our ideas for how we wanted to move during it.

 Takao:  The camera of course reverses the shot, so it was quite difficult to explain things to each other using it (laughs).

 Sasaki:  We were fine-tuning things right until the last minute. For our 0th live we wore robes and I used a standing microphone, but for this one I switched to using a headset mic. That really changed a lot. I was able to get closer to the other members while singing, and in general I was able to move around much more.

There’s hand mics too, so there’s all sorts of ideas to try out. I think singing while holding a mic in my hands would be fitting for the stage play aspect, while there’s other songs that work well with a standing mic. With a headset mic I get to go closer to everyone else, or who knows where else… (laughs).

 All:  (laughs)

 Takao:  The headset setup is really good, because whenever I see her having fun singing with it on, it makes my tricky parts in songs turn into really fun ones. Her enjoyment is contagious. I always think “Ricochi is so powerful!”

 Sasaki:  I could say the same about you! Hearing you all playing alongside me makes me able to put more power into my voice. There’s moments where I’m so absorbed in our world that my head starts to go fuzzy. When that happens, I’ll listen carefully to Nontan’s piano and Doloris comes back in full swing. I’ll also purposely turn up Yuzumoon’s guitar playing so it’s louder in my better ear monitor, and I’ll listen closely to when we match up perfectly. I do this with the bass and drums as well; I use all five of my senses to feel everyone else’s playing as I sing.

――What’s a song you feel that most strongly with?

 Takao:  It’s Angles for me. Not to go back to this, but during our 0th live, expectations were high for us, and then the anime aired and we performed as an opening act for Roselia, so the fans were going wild.

That pressure was definitely felt during our 1st live. I thought “we really need to put on a show that proves we’ve leveled up,” and I felt much more nervous than usual. Ricochi and Yuzumoon’s guitar teacher would always watch in on our rehearsals, and they pointed out “whenever you get nervous, you tend to not look at the other member’s eyes. If you get nervous during the concert, why don’t you look the other’s in the eyes as a sort of amulet for yourself?”

――That’s some good advice! Those words alone can be an amulet of its own, too.

 Takao:  I remembered it right before the concert started. Personally speaking, among the setlist I was most anxious about Angles, which starts with singing and my piano. I asked Ricochi “during Angles, please look me in the eyes”. During the concert she really did make eye contact with me, and I was able to enter Ave Mujica’s world safely. 1st live made me realize that making eye contact really is an amulet for me.

 Sasaki:  Actually during rehearsals, I was looking at her a little too much. I was scared I was overdoing it, so I tried looking for a good balance of how much to stare at her. If I was in her shoes, I feel like I’d be unable to focus on my playing, being stared at so much. But when the day of the concert came around, she told me “please look at me,” and that made me happy. I looked at her very comfortably during it.

 Takao:  Comfortably? (laughs)

 Sasaki:  Seeing Nontan play her instrument so full of passion made me able to match up my singing to that same extent. With passion in my singing and the two of our hearts matched up… that’s how Angles is born.

Ave Mujica - Angles (Official Music Video)

――You could really feel the tension at the start of Angles.

 Takao:  All I could think is “I’ve never had the spotlight on me this much before”. When I saw the footage of the livestream after, the camerawork on the two of us was incredible.

――Sasaki-san, how did you feel during that part?

 Sasaki:  The biggest thing was acknowledging the song takes place in Doloris and Oblivionis’ world, just the two of them. Of course I thought about how we were in concert, but all I thought of as I was singing was “this world only has the two of them”. I don’t recall being very nervous during it. Oblivionis’ playing was so reassuring and bright, so I really felt confident, and that everything would be okay.

 Takao:  Amazing!

The insane riff master, and the stressful arpeggio

――Sasaki-san, so there’s songs that you find hard, but having the other members by your side makes you feel confident?

 Sasaki:  I have to sing while also playing the leading guitar part, so there’s times where I feel like I’m going to snap. Though Yuzumoon also plays along with me. She’s an “insane riff master”.

 Takao:  (laughs)

 Sasaki:  Rhythm guitar is not easy. I’m sure Yuzumoon was so nervous during her ending arpeggio during Angles.

 Takao:  She really did it perfectly during the concert!

 Sasaki:  Yuzumoon would never admit in conversation how much she’s grown. She just demonstrates it in her playing. I always feel that potently whenever we do rehearsals or concerts together. During 1st live, while hearing her arpeggio that’s filled with blood, sweat and tears, I came in and did my own solo at the end. Our producer who came up with this was a genius.

We both had hard parts, but we can both feel that if we play together, no matter how hard it is, we’ll do our best. Without needing to actually say anything to each other, we speak through our playing.

It’s a magnificent world, however, it’s nowhere to be found

――You also performed Subarashiki Sekai, Demo, Dokonimo Nai Basho for the first time.

 Sasaki:  Our 1st live had the story of “the discarded dolls destroyed the world and created a new one,” and Subarashiki Sekai, Demo, Dokonimo Nai Basho was the first step in that plan. The D-melo was like a wielded guitar, in a way.

 Takao:  Like a sword.

 Sasaki:  Exactly. I sang and played the song with the image of destroying the world.

 Takao:  For me, I played thinking of Oblivionis as “the world’s envoy,” so I tried not to move too much during the song. In my head Oblivionis plays the song while standing frigidly, playing with both hands, staring forward without looking at her keyboard.

 Sasaki:  You say it like it’s nothing, but that really is crazy. It’s like she’s no longer human (laughs).

――(laughs) Could you talk a little about the song itself?

 Sasaki:  1st live really came together beautifully. “Perdere Omnia” actually means “destroy everything”. Subarashiki Sekai, Demo, Dokonimo Nai Basho has the lines “destroy it, destroy it” within it, so the song is about creating a new world from its ruins.

It’s really the essence of Perdere Omnia. The song is about destroying everything and starting from scratch, and I sang and played my guitar while keeping Doloris’ determination and preparation in mind. Listening to it really gets me in the mindset, and I hope the audience feels the same way. As our accomplices, they destroyed the world together with us and we brought them to a new one. I kept that in mind during my recording for it.

――It’s an easy song to listen to.

 Takao:  Even though it’s about destroying the world, Ricochi’s voice is so smooth during the chorus. I love that part…!

 Sasaki:  Thanks!

Saved by BanG Dream! Ave Mujica

――Could you tell us as much as you can about some highlights regarding the upcoming anime, BanG Dream! Ave Mujica?

 Takao:  I put everything into Sakiko’s acting right from episode 1. After I finished recording episode 1, the director, Koudai Kakimoto told me “your acting made me cry”.

 Sasaki:  I want to watch it already!

 Takao:  That’s how passionately I recorded it, and the staff all had a high level of empathy while working on the sequel. I think it’ll really live up to expectations. Even episode 1 alone will make you cry (laughs).

 Sasaki:  It showcases each and every character, and we’ll see new sides to girls that we haven’t yet. I’ve finished my recording for it by now, and all I can say is it’s saved me, in a way.

 Takao:  Same here! I feel saved by it.

 Sasaki:  Everyone will have their own views on it, so I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions. I can’t say much about it, but it has the same kinds of twists and turns that the MyGO!!!!! girls went through. I think the warped emotions, and the relationships being twisted are all beautiful. I don’t think that beauty only exists in “pretty” things, and that there’s a shine and beauty in the ugly.

 Takao:  After I finished recording the last episode, I thought “Ave Mujica really is a ray of light”.

 Sasaki:  It’s hard to talk about it without spoiling stuff, but we got to record together and it was a lot of fun.

 Takao:  In BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!!, it revealed that Uika and Sakiko were childhood friends, but the sequel shows us even more of their relationship.

 Sasaki:  We threw in a lot of ad libs in our acting.

 Takao:  We really did!

 Sasaki:  There’s fun scenes as well as tense ones.

 Takao:  I hope everyone will watch it to the end.

――Now that you’ve finished recording for the sequel, is there anything you’d like to reflect on regarding the finale of BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!!?

 Takao:  My feelings have changed in all sorts of ways. After watching the finale for the sequel, rewatching BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!! again has me feeling like “oh, so that’s what was happening here”.

 Sasaki:  BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!! was full of mystery still, so it definitely deserves a revisit, and make sure you pay close attention to everything in it, because there’s a lot of moments where you’ll start to connect the dots.

TVアニメ「BanG Dream! Ave Mujica」解禁PV

(Subbed version)

Looking towards a magnificent future

――You’re currently putting out one song per month for five months.

 Sasaki:  The anime hasn’t even aired yet, so it’s such an honor.

 Takao:  We don’t actually know what the songs will be like yet.

 Sasaki:  Yes. I’m so excited to have and be able to sing five new songs that showcase Ave Mujica’s world in their own ways!

 Takao:  It’s like, “Ave Mujica, you made too much of your world!” (laughs). I wonder in what ways they’ll form the world? The possibilities are endless.

 Sasaki:  I’m sure they’ll each have their own story to them. We’ve been dolls up until now, but I hope in the future we get to try other ideas.

――I can’t help but wonder how high the bar for your new songs might end up being…

 Sasaki:  I’m ready to take on anything! I’ll be playing with everyone else after all, and I’ll be sure to absolutely cherish each and every line in the songs.

――Your Blu-ray feature for your 1st single contains footage of your 1st live. I hope people will watch it and go to your concerts. I look forward to what your concerts will be like after the sequel anime airs.

 Takao:  Me too!

 Sasaki:  What will they even be like?! (laughs)

 Takao:  I imagine there will be some sort of change by then. I’m sure the direction for them will shift.

 Sasaki:  The staff has so much fun coming up with ideas, it makes me happy.

 Takao:  I trust them all wholeheartedly!

 Sasaki:  The members and staff are both just wonderful.

――Your 2nd live will take place in June and July. Is there anything you can say about it yet?

 Takao:  We don’t know what the setlist or direction, or what new songs will be performed at it are yet. I just know the concert will show everyone a new world to Ave Mujica, so I hope everyone comes to watch us in all of our newness.

 Sasaki:  The possibilities for what we’ll come up with are endless, and we’ll do our best to discuss among us five members on how to create that new world together. To our audience, Ave Mujica is still wrapped in mystery and not a lot is known about us, but I hope they’ll gladly let Ave Mujica engulf them in its darkness. We’re all villains of the same stripe, after all. I hope you’ll enjoy the world of Ave Mujica alongside us.

[bluelikebruises]

blue bird cries pt.1 || aegon ii targaryen

Aegon II Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader summary: the fall out of aegon finding it out you could have been his bride wc: 2.7k tw: aegon targaryen, incest (cause yknow targaryen's) reader is aegon's half sister, unhealthy relationship, angst part two here!

a/n: a bit messy and rushed forgive me. slightly proof read, enjoy :)

☆━━━━☆━━━━☆

The doors to your chambers burst open. A handmaiden hurriedly rushed in, out of breath and in distress. She stood before you with her eyes glued to the floor. You stood from your chair worriedly approaching her. You had never seen any of the handmaidens shaken up, frazzled occasionally by arguments in court but never visibly shaken.

She was young, she could not have been much older than ten and four. With doe eyes and a round face that was red, covered with tear stains. As she tried to catch her breath her eyes watered, your heart broke for her. You led her towards your tea table, pouring her a cup of water having her sit.

“Now, what is the matter?” you asked. 

Slowly she put the cup down, “Prince Aegon requests your presence’s at once” 

You had heard of Aegon pestering the handmaidens before, you simply assumed he would flirt with them. At least that’s all the Queen-Mother chalked it up to be, you never thought twice about it taking her words at face value. Considering that when you were younger it would drive you mad to see Aegon flirt with the handmaid's while in your presence, it wasn’t until you were older did you realize it was jealousy.

You couldn’t argue the validity of what ‘pestering’ really meant since you and Aegon had long grown apart. Well. . . you grew, further and further away from him. You once had an idea of who Aegon was but you were much younger then and time had proven to change a man. The boy you had spent days attached at the hip doing everything together side by side, was no more than a stranger now. But what could he have done to have the poor girl in front of you in such a state?

Through tears she explained how drunk Aegon had gotten. How he called for three handmaidens and once they were in his chambers he berated them, tossing everything he could all throughout the walls of his chambers. Through his destruction he shouted, rambling about things the handmaidens did not understand. His obscene words were not directed at them but at the subjects of marriage and family.

The handmaiden spoke of how they tried to sooth and appease him but nothing worked. They simply moved out of his way when he tossed whatever was near his reach. And when it seemed he had tired himself out he asked for you. It began as a simple request but when one of the other handmaidens asked if he was sure the shouting began again. The young handmaiden, scared, ran out of the room to find you.

His actions hadn’t surprised you, you had heard of his drunken tantrums from Aemond. The only time you had ever seen him drunk was when Aemond dragged him out of the dinning hall when he showed up tumbling in. That was the first time you realized you had no idea who Aegon had become. You remember looking over to Helaena and feeling pity, the same pity that you felt now for the handmaiden—for having crossed paths with Aegon. 

You stood, telling the Handmaiden to follow you as you walked to Aegon’s chambers. You hadn’t spoken to him in ages, a deliberate choice you had made years before. Sometimes he would whisper something during dinner that no one would hear but you, still you paid him no mind. 

From outside of the corridor to his chambers you could hear loud thrashing. Entering Aegon’s chambers you saw the other handmaidens. They both pleaded with the rash prince, spewing a number of, “Your grace, please”, while they tried to clean everything he was throwing throughout the room. Aegon, clearly drunk, was rambling, it seemed nothing had changed in the young handmaiden’s absence. 

“Princess” the two handmaidens said in unison, bowing. This caught Aegon’s attention who stopped his rambling and stumbled towards you. 

Faced with Aegon pulled at the strings of your heart, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been before him in his chambers. He looked disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, darkness outlined beneath them, his hair greasy and stuck to his face. You swallowed your emotions, understanding you were solely here because he called.

“Leave us” you say, causing the two nameless handmaidens to take their leave. The handmaiden that fetched you turned to leave but you grabbed her hand, “Not you”

“Did you cross the sea to fetch my sister?” Aegon jabbed

Unamused you respond, “Hold your tongue”

“There is no one to offend” he played dumb

“My handmaiden is here” you stated matter-of-factly. You had no intention or need for a handmaiden but seeing her in such a fearful state upset you. 

“Your handmaiden?” he harshly asked

“Yes my handmaiden, it seems you are crueler than I thought little brother” you clasped your hands behind your back, “I should take all your handmaidens, leave you to fend for yourself”

Aegon scoffed, “Take them all I don’t care”. His eyes bore into yours, a glossy haze surrounded them.

Turning to the young girl, you spoke, “You are dismissed, thank you dear” you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, she bowed and left.

Hearing the door close you turned your attention to Aegon. 

“Have you gone mad? Do you not ever bore of terrorizing the servants?” your patience was thin for the drunken disaster your brother had become.

Ignoring your questions he turned to look for something.

“Is it true?” he asked accusingly as he rummaged through the mess on the floor, finding what he was looking for in a glass bottle. 

“Is what true?”, you asked

“Do not play coy with me!” he shouted, stalking towards you. At his proximity you saw the contents of the bottle: wine. 

“I know nothing of what you are accusing me of” you only thought of his words as those of a drunk, a man, a boy with little ambition. There was a time when Aegon’s words meant something, Yet now everything that came out of his mouth was nonsensical, he spoke solely to hear himself speak. 

His eyes were sunken, darker than you remember, “It is not an accusation if it is the truth” he spat

Annoyance crawled up your skin. It appeared when Aegon was drunk he was more of a child then he was sober.

“I am in no mood to play games” 

With his hands held up towards you as if to hold your face he shouted, “You were supposed to be my wife,” his voice wavered. 

You stood frozen, it wasn’t a secret that a year after Aegon’s birth, nearly three name days after yours; Queen Alicent and her father The Hand proposed a marriage between the two of you. The Hand suggested it under the guise of securing the Targaryen lineage, of keeping blood pure. Yet the only blood he cared about was that of his grandson’s who he thought deserved the throne. You were merely a chess piece in his grand game, one he believed he could easily move around. The King, being no fool, spoke to your eldest sister Rhaenyra. Who directly opposed the proposal settling the matter, or so you thought. Now before you stood a drunken—maddened adult Aegon. 

You had opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted you.

“You were supposed to be my wife!” he shouted in your face. His threatening demeanor did nothing to frighten you.

“Where did you hear this?”

“What does it matter? It is true, is it not?” 

You paused, “You’re right, it doesn’t matter because you have a lady wife”

“It was supposed to be you,” he began to pace around the room “It was supposed to be you!”

His pacing stopped, “And you knew and told me nothing of the matter” 

After Aegon’s and Helaena’s marriage ceremony, your father had made a small comment on the Queen’s and Hand’s proposal all those years ago. He meant nothing by it, simply commenting how life works. But you felt your stomach drop at the possibility of what you and Aegon could have been, what you should have been. For days there was an anger in your heart, you hated Rhaenyra. Hated that she deprived you of marriage—of love. You grieved for a love that could have been. Days turned into weeks then into months until you fully understood why Rhaenyra rejected the proposal.

You understood that it was all a tactical plan formed by the Hand, who had no interest in seeing Rhaenyra on the throne. You separated yourself entirely from Aegon, his presence always saddened you. You couldn’t bear to be near him, every possibility of a life together flashed before your eyes. His face held every shared emotion, every whisper, every kiss on the cheek and brush of hands. 

It wasn’t like either of you had outright confessed your feelings, but both of you understood there was something neither of your young growing minds could decipher. You had known ever since you were kids that he was engaged to Helaena but it always felt so far away . . . until it wasn’t and you stood congratulating both of them. Smiling as if your heart was not being pulled apart into tatters. You had to commemorate and revere their marriage and in no better fashion could you do that than by plucking Aegon from your life completely.  

Years had solidified the stone wall that stood between the two of you, a wall you built brick by brick. But what were you supposed to do? Continue carrying on as if nothing had changed, when your entire perspective had shifted? You had to accept the truth you had spent your younger years denying, that Aegon was not yours, he could never be yours. He was your sister’s even if he did not want to be. There was no world in which the two of you could be, the only rational solution you came up with was separating yourself from him, from Helaena.

“What would telling you accomplish? I was ten and nine. You were already wed”

“I had a right to know! To have chosen you!”

Anger began to pool around your feet. Of course there was a time you indulged in the idea of being Aegon’s, of being his wife. When you were kids and would wreak havoc all throughout the Red Keep. But time had proved that impossible, the matter was out of your hands, out of your control, long before you ever loved Aegon. Yet he blamed you, as if you were the one who rejected his hand in marriage. As if you were the one that ordered he and Helaena be wed. But it wasn’t just that he pushed blame onto you that angered you, it was his dismissiveness towards his wife. His wife who bore his children, who was your sister—your gentle and kind sister. 

“It would do you well to remember you are married to Helaena. Have some respect, some fucking decency if not for yourself, for her” 

He laughed mockingly, “My lady wife—her sole accomplishment is bearing my children”

At his insult your hand struck him across the face. Instantly you regret it, guilt washed over you as your hand throbbed from impact. Having never hit anyone before you stepped backwards frightened at your own actions, violence was never your forte.

Aegon held his cheek looking at you, before you could even think of what to utter he lunged at you. His hands found themselves around your neck but his grip never tightened. His hands were hot and you could feel your pulse beat against his skin. He held you like his hands were made to adorn your neck. You tried to find a feeling of fear or anxiety within but the only thing you could feel was Aegon’s breath on yours. Fixated by his hands you hadn’t realized how close his face was, his lips only a simple word away. Looking up to meet his eyes, your heart began to beat wildly as if it were trying to escape your body. You both stood stuck, unwilling to move.

A beat passed and you could not let his drunken disrespect towards your sister idly go, he had to know of his insolence. What honor was their in letting a man disrespect his wife in ones presence?

“I love you—” you confessed as his hands began to squeeze, “more than I should but I will not have you disrespect your wife-” his grips tightened, “-our sister in my presence” you clawed at his hands trying to stop him. Your eyes began to water as your last breaths of air were being squeezed out of you. Before you could even beg him to stop—to let you go, his lips were pressed onto yours. 

Shocked and practically melting into his lips, you began to love his hands wrapped around your throat: killing you. He kissed you desperately, his lips were wet mixed with saliva and wine. His teeth clashed onto yours, his tongue ran along the roof of your mouth. Your last shreds of sense screamed at you all at once to get away—get away from Aegon. To separate yourself from his hands, from his lips, from the heat of his body pressed to yours. You began trying to push him away, for a chance of air. Nothing worked, you pushed, shoved and scratched but your limbs began to feel numb. Aegon simply tightened his grip even more, you had to get him off quickly. 

In a last attempt to escape his grasp you bit his bottom lip. Aegon yelped in pain, releasing you bringing his hands to his face as he touched his lip. Coughing you tried to regain your breath, your throat felt like it was on fire. Catching your breath you saw his lip bleeding. But nothing on Aegon’s face suggested he was angry or upset, he simply smiled at the blood on his fingers.

“You would have been the most glorious wife in all of Westeros”

Having had enough of his antics you made your way to the doors of his chambers. You nearly make your escape before Aegon’s hand caught your wrist, pulling you away from the doors and into him. 

“Stop this” you warned, pushing him away. It was wrong you knew but the first moments of his lips on yours made it seem right. His hands wrapped around your throat moments ago, and yet instead of fleeing his chambers out of fear you stood wanting more. 

“Stop this!?” he laughed mocking you, “You abandon me for years and now you want to relinquish yourself of me again”

“I left you to your matrimony! Has your mind shriveled up and died? You married and I honored that!” anger and frustration flooded your body, why couldn’t Aegon be an adult about this. Why couldn't he be rational and sensible as you had been the last couple of years.

He closed the distance between the two of you, “My matrimony is nothing but a sham, and you know it” 

“Sham or not I will continue to uphold your vows even if you will not”

“You will continue to scorn me” 

Upset by his lack of understanding you knew the only way you could get your point across—to get him to understand would be to chastise him. It was the last thing you wanted to do, seeing how his mother and grandfather had done so all his life. But there was nothing else you could do.

Pulling the dagger from your mouth sharpening your words, making sure every word cut into his skin you spoke;

“Scorn you?” you laughed in frustration, “You are nothing but a drunk, a stain on the Targaryen lineage, a misfortune of your name sake, if ever anyone was less worthy of carrying the Targaryen name it would be you”

Aegon flinched after every cut, his eyes watered, his cheeks were flooded with pink, his breaths became uneven. He looked so poetically pathetic, and it was all because of you. Not being able to bear the sight of him any longer you left his chambers. Fleeing the destruction you had caused, the pain you had inflicted, words you could never take back. 

You had crossed the point of no return, through tears you knew you would have to live knowing you had killed any hope of rekindling your relationship with Aegon. Your entire body felt hollow, an empty shell of the girl you once were. You could no longer blame fate for robbing you of love, you weaved your own destruction.

[poisonousquinzel]

this man is such an insecure little loser like ?? stand up!

time and time again he gets jealous over something She's achieved and hurts her for it. Harley Quinn could bring Gotham to its knees if she really, Really wanted to, he knows that. maybe not at first but I think that's why his degrading comments and such get so fucking vile by the time they're officially over.

She doesn't want to destroy Gotham she just wants to be happy with him but he wants to make it so she genuinely believes she couldn't achieve a fraction of that destruction. that she's nothing without him. that she's not capable of anything aside from being his. being whatever it is he wants or needs and that's it.

He hates the idea of her getting credit for ploys he wants the glory from. he doesn't like seeing her come up with something he wishes he'd thought of first.

I think that's why he also very quickly made sure there was a message for Harley in her cell at the end of Mad Love. She'd proved she could best Batman and he doesn't know what path she'll be taking upon release. sure there's a chance she'd just leave and be rehabilitated, but there's also a chance she stays. She stays and she steals his final grandiose action by killing Batman.

She almost did it and there's a possiblity she'll do it again. He doesn't want that.

[nozzerasure-done]

Alright. This is my last post. I didn’t really post much. But I know @saigealexisyt and Poppy and Zena stalk it since they use it for their stream.

My intent, as I hope it was everyone else’s, was to get Poppy and Zena (and now Saige) to see how destructive and toxic their behavior was by how many people have been actively harmed by their actions.

I thought Courtney’s testimony would get you to see the light. It didn’t.

I thought Milena’s multiple testimony’s about her experiences would and it didn’t.

I thought Dormiyu’s would. It didn’t.

You dragged a trans woman’s name through the mud for months and still have a libelous post written by a dangerous person pinned to your profile because you were mad you got dumped.

I thought, surely, if anything, that the threat of losing your career would get you to stop. It didn’t

When I read Spawn’s document, it honestly made me sick. I knew you two were awful people but this made me pause. And knowing this is only part 1…

And you and Zena and Saige find nothing wrong with it. Which is even more maddening.

My point in all of this is that posting about anything else is futile. You’ve literally had everything taken away: your friends, your career, your website, and I’m sure YouTube and twitter isn’t far off for the three of you on the path you’re on.

Im sure you’ll still think you’re the victims. And you’ll think it’s some victory that I’m leaving. And that I’m not posting anymore. But guess what?

I have a career. I have a partner that loves me and I love back. I don’t have constant fights with them and they actually live with me and they don’t drop me when a shiny new toy walks by. I have stability. I don’t need people half my age to validate me.

It will haunt me knowing what you did to so many, especially Spawn, but it gives me peace knowing you’ll never have the platform and reach you once did. Keep up the good fight @poppyandzena

[see-arcane]

It's a special day in Dracula!

Jonathan experiences a flashback to the Horrors, Mina experiences bisexuality in the wild, and the poor nameless Pretty Girl in Piccadilly rides out of the story, parcel in hand and chic cartwheel hat on, oblivious to the Count stalking after her. In honor of the anonymous young lady who proves for a third time that Dracula and Mina have literally the exact same taste—Jonathan, Lucy, random beauties on the street—I wanted to take a crack at giving her an identity.

But I am also indecisive as hell, so she can be one of a number of pretty persons of note. For example…

Miss Piccadilly #1: Clarimonde

My original favorite choice, if only because I love the idea of Clarimonde still cruising around after the heartbreak she left behind in her own story, “La Morte Amoureuse” (The Dead Woman in Love), aka “Clarimonde.” She is now and always the undead Parisian party queen of my heart, but I could see her traveling around to dabble in hedonism in other corners of the world. Naturally she has to go and catch the attention of the local aristos. Human or otherwise.

But, of course, she is psychic and can read Dracula like a bloodstained book. Keep walking, bat bastard. Her vampiric voluptuousness is reserved for VIPs. (Maybe that fetching mourning couple she saw gawking in the park…)

Miss Piccadilly #2: Helen Vaughan

Oh, Helen Vaughan, elegant hostess and demigoddess horror supreme. I don’t care what Arthur Machen says, your story did not end with the conclusion of The Great God Pan. You were life and death and human and beast and all the hideous realities in-between and a mortal end could never keep you down. Especially not when you have so many paramours left to entertain! So many secrets profane and maddening to share! One of these days you’ll catch one who won’t dissolve into madness and self-destruction after a little innocent eldritch chit-chat.

Like this charming Count here! Count? Count, where are you going? Count, she just wants you to meet her dad—why are you running? Why are you running?

Miss Piccadilly #3: Luna Blue

What’s this? An OC?

Well, of course. No one’s actually naming their child Luna Blue in the late 1800s; that’s just her professional pseudonym. It’s amazing how well the spiritualist movement can work out for a girl with a knack for shuffling painted cards or chatting with the night sky and the occasional planchette. She can even boast something more than showmanship behind her skill. The sort of ‘something’ that worried Transylvanians might whisper about in fear on a certain haunted date while a likewise worried solicitor breaks out the polyglot dictionary.

She recognizes Dracula for what he is as surely as he recognizes her. No, she is not interested, voivode. Even if she was, she’d be out a benefactor within—a hard look at him here; cold and far—oh dear. Scarcely more than a month. At least by her guess. But oh, there is good news in his future too! He shall cross paths with an old friend soon! How lovely. She’s certain these things are not connected. Don’t even worry about it.

Miss Piccadilly #4: Cosette Marchand

The fourth and final young lady in the roster is one more original character and she deserves absolutely none of the horror coming her way. This is Miss Cosette Marchand, an artist by hobby and profession. The parcel received from the jeweler’s was a commissioned necklace and earrings she designed herself. A glittering birthday gift for her mother who will chide her for such an extravagance, Cosy, she has no place to wear such things! But they are lovely…

She’s so lost in her daydreaming that she doesn’t realize the hansom behind her has been following the victoria since leaving Piccadilly Square. All the way home. Home, where there are no bloodletting suitors, no wise professors, no divine or diabolic powers to forestall the natural progression of things between predator and prey. There is only a nightmare waiting for her, unobstructed.

…By anything other than my own bleeding heart. I’m too attached. She has to make it.

So.

How does Miss Marchand’s story go?

Turns out, her mother has some experience in these matters. Her mother being one Laura Marchand, who left a thirsty terror of her own behind twenty years ago. One she has mourned as much as feared in the time between the love of a husband eaten by war and the sharper kisses of a girl far more than a friend or living being. She recognizes the sour reflection of Carmilla’s eagerness in the Thing pretending to be a nobleman at the door. She still has General Spielsdorf’s axe. She has kept the steel sharp. Tonight she will whet it sharper still, from dusk until dawn.

You see all that yellow in her dress. It’s recently become one of her favorite colors, owing to a most diverting play she happened to read. Such lush storytelling! What decadent inspiration! She simply had to design something fine in honor of it. She does hope her mother will appreciate the artful way the gold was wrought, twisting in echo of the Sign. A mother who has gone so strangely still since she happened to glance at the second act of the play. Still and cold. Perhaps she will be cheered by her gift and their guests. There is a nobleman at the door, Mother! And there, see, leaking from the yellow damask wall is His Tattered Majesty—oh. Where has their visitor gone? He shall miss the masquerade! Ah, well. His loss.

Scheherazade…2! In which Miss Marchand pulls a Jonathan by stalling via playing to charm and utility. She wears many hats beside the cartwheel when it comes to the arts. Portraiture, fashion in fabric and ornaments. Surely the Count can savor the spider-and-fly game a little longer for that and some pretty panicked smiles. Look how much patience and frustration he burned on Lucy! Yes, yes, a little while longer to draw things out, play at flirtation between artist and patron, isn’t this nice? Ha ha. (Please don’t drink me please don’t drink me please don’t drink me.)

Well. She got drinked. And maybe succumbed to death before the Count could get slain. But the bat bastard does get put down eventually and she still gets to pop back up! Good news: She’s not under the Count’s thrall! She can think and act for herself! Nice! Bad news: Vampire. At least she can drink her problems* away. (*Problems with names like Atherton, Wotton, Gray…)

Her neighbors are the other three Piccadilly girls. Dracula makes his way downtown, walking fast, walking faster— 

Werewolf free space.

[jake-g-lockley]

Hello! Could you write prompt 23 with marc, please?

I love how you percieve marc

Command (Marc Spector x royal avatar!reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

Prompt: you are without a doubt, the most annoying person i’ve ever crossed paths with, and don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice

A/N: Thanks for the ask, lovely (and the sweet comment :”))!! This idea also has been on the back of my mind since I began writing fics, but I only suddenly had the idea of using it when I saw this prompt. 

Warnings: MDNI, smut, switch!Marc, switch!reader, female masturbation, exhibition (if you squint), bondage, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, unprotected (p in v), creampie, alcohol consumption, choking, powers that are associated with manipulation, one of Marc’s alters are lurking heh. 

Word Count: 2.6 k 

Being royalty in your country was absolutely useless. Sure you had a throne and a whole castle to yourself, but no subjects to reign over and no diplomatic ties to fight over. You were bored, so bored and angry at the fact that you had so much yet so little. You craved the thrill, tired of being queen in the modern world. You wanted to live the way your ancestors did, powerful, smart and you wanted to write your own story, something that no one else could experience. 

You searched far and wide and surprisingly, in your search, you ended up along the river Nile staring up at a beautiful goddess, who gave you all the power you wanted, so that you could do her bidding the way pharaohs before you did. Being the avatar of Hathor meant that you could manipulate people to do your bidding. You finally felt the thrill, the power that you were so hungry for. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Now, you stood in your throne room, staring at the giant portal that appeared before you, a sign that the Ennead was converging at the Great Pyramid of Giza. You smiled and walked through it, not exactly expecting what you would see once you were inside. It was empty, beautiful sculptures that were there before were ruined, everything turned into dust and rubble. You set your hand onto the broken bust of your goddess, a feeling of anger surging through you like no other. 

“Would you be even more mad if I mentioned that I was partially involved in this destruction?” a voice you’d never thought you’d hear again rang out from behind a statue.

You whirled around, squinting in the darkness at the direction of the voice. Memories of that voice came flooding back to you and you couldn’t help but smirk at the way it sounded a little too cocky and confident. 

“Mostly my god and his destructive abilities but, oh well.” the voice came again and you could make out a silhouette leaning against a bust that was topped with a crescent moon. 

“You better show yourself, or-”

“You’ll command me to? That’s not going to work on me, sweetheart, I’ve gotten myself an amulet.” you could literally hear the sly twist in the person’s voice as he twisted something shiny and sharp in his hand. 

“Scared, Moon-boy?” you teased, slightly surprised that he knew about protective amulets.

The figure stepped out of the shadow and into the glow of the lamps around you, his olive skin and brown eyes as radiant as the last time you saw him, his crescent weapon clutched in his right hand. 

“Not at all, Your Highness.” 

Marc Spector was wearing a little too much confidence on him and you were itching to knock it down a few bars as he smirked at you, eyeing you with the same hunger you did a few months ago. 

—

“On your knees, and eyes on me.” 

He gritted his teeth and kneeled, his eyes trained on yours as you leaned back on your chair, toying with the sash of your robe. 

“Good boy,” you purred. “Show me your hands.”

He already had his wrists locked together as he presented them to you and you pulled the sash right off your robe, tying it around his wrists and to your chair as the robe pooled off your body and onto the seat, leaving you bare. Once he was secure into place, you smiled at him sweetly again before spreading your legs.

You placed your fingers at his lips and he opened his mouth obediently, sucking your fingers softly as he kept his big brown eyes on your gaze. You suddenly pulled them out, a trail of spit connecting from your fingers to his lip. You slowly begin to rub at your clit with your spit-soaked fingers as his gaze dropped to your cunt. 

“Let's see how many times I can cum in front of you before I have you begging for me.” your fingers push past your entrance and you tip your head back with a groan.

—

“Why are we here, Spector?” you rolled your eyes, searching the room for any sign of the other avatars.

“No idea, I only walked in like five minutes ago, you’re the one who's late.” he shrugged, examining his blade. 

Suddenly, he straightened up and his face was set to a grimace as he turned to his left. You felt something too, turning towards the powerful energy that was approaching the two of you. You smiled when your eyes met with big empty sockets of a bird’s skull. 

“Not weird at all, you know, the fact that your favourite avatar isn’t your own.” Marc said deadpan, gazing up at the ancient god.

You stuck your tongue out at Marc as Khonshu placed a wrapped hand on your head, smoothing your hair affectionately. Marc watched as your eyes turned gold, before turning to where Hathor was standing, rolling his eyes and shaking his head again. 

“You know, if you weren’t an Avatar, you would have been reduced to ashes by now.” Hathor’s voice coiled up Marc’s spine but he held his ground, glaring at you will malintent. 

“Just get to the point.”  he muttered and you almost felt bad for him but was again impressed by the way he didn’t just melt at Hathor’s words.

“We’ll need the both of you to…”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Steal Hathor’s relic for her! What am I? Just a slave that Khonshu gets to toss around? Nope, you know what, don’t answer that.” Marc repeated for the fiftieth time as he paced around the lavish hotel room as you boredly looked on. 

“You never quit complaining, do you?” You said, gazing at him through the mirror as you tried on a pair of diamond earrings that were gifted to you. 

“You are not one to talk! You are a queen and a pampered one no less! Why does Khonshu care for you so much anyway?” Marc stopped and glared at your reflection. 

You opened your mouth but for the first time in a long time, you hesitated. You narrowed your eyes instead, giving you time to choose your words correctly. 

“I’ll tell you, only if you tell me how you can resist Hathor’s strongest charms, even without that amulet around your neck. 

Marc’s eyes flashed white and you swore you saw another person peak through but you shook the feeling away.

“I have  extra…attachments in my brain, helps me…manage a little differently.” He shrugs, tapping his forehead. “It's complicated.”

—-

“Never tasted a queen before.” his darkened voice came from between your thighs.

His nose nudged beckoningly at your clit as your fingers tug harder at his raven hair as he softly kissed your slit, trying to make you beg for what you needed. 

You slowly realised that he was pushing through the spell you put on him, wanting to have control of your pleasure and suddenly you were filled with so much need that the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Marc, please, I need this.” you whispered, carding your hands through his curls. 

“Mmm, that's all you had to say, mi reina.” he murmured into your cunt, before licking a wide strip that had you keening for more. 

—-

“Hmm. Okay. I helped Khonshu out of a sticky situation once. It was…complicated.” imagery of you throwing down Khonshu’s figurine and freeing him during Ammit’s reign flooded your memory once more as you fought a smile. 

You had ultimately saved Marc’s life in the process of freeing, bringing him back from the dead. You didn’t want him to feel like he was in debt with you, though. It’s why you asked Khonshu to keep his beak shut about this. It was Marc’s turn to squint at you now, as if he knew you were hiding something from him. He didn’t press on, choosing to turn around and glare at the pyramids that overlooked your room. 

You caught a glimpse of his handsome face from where he stood, stubbornness radiating out of him like it were second skin. Truthfully, you heard about the infamous Moon Knight before you saved him from the clutches of the Duat, his legendary crescent blade cutting through the throats of those who harmed the innocent. You liked him, his courage and constant need to do things for good making you feel something you’ve never let yourself feel before. 

“You need to loosen up, Marc.” you smiled to yourself, pouring him a glass of your special liquor. 

Marc turned abruptly at your use of his first name, looking at you suspiciously. 

“Come here and take a sip of this, trust me, you’ll love it.” you said, nodding towards the glass on the table as you poured yourself some. 

He walked to your vanity table and picked up the glass, examining it before taking a sip. You smile as his eyes widen slightly and he takes another, more confident sip. 

“Shit, this is heavenly.” Marc breathed, eyeing his glass again.

You took a sip of your own, the honeyed liquor slipping around your tongue, coating it with a slight fruitiness that singed your tastebuds slightly. 

“What the hell is this?” Marc asked, an amused look gracing his face. 

“Oh, just a 4000 year old liquor.” you bit your lip and watched Marc’s expression change. 

“You’re fucking with me right?” he spluttered slightly, his eyebrows creasing together. 

“No, I’m not, if you weren’t an avatar, you’d be dead on my floor right now.” You frowned, tipping the rest of the liquor into your mouth.

“You’re nuts.” Marc chuckled, sipping the rest of his liquor. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Oh, sweetheart, there you are.” Marc’s voice perked your ears up as you turned, casually accepting a quick kiss from him as his arm curled around you and his hand rested softly at your hip. 

The man that was speaking to you slowly backed away as Marc’s heavy gaze settled upon him, a fake smile blazing upon his pretty lips that morphed into another one of his famous grimaces once the man was out of sight and amongst the other bidders for the night. 

“Did ya’ really have to?” you hissed slightly, turning to adjust his lapel, before kissing his cheek, just in case any onlookers were paying the both of you a string of attention.

“Yep, we have to stay focused.” he said, smiling down at you, nudging your hip slightly with his. 

—

One of your legs were hiked over his, your eyelids fluttering slightly as he kept firm eye contact with you while pushing his fingers in and out of you, the same way you did before when you were teasing him.

You let a small gasp leave your lips and Marc’s eyes glimmered, knowing that you’ve let slip that he was doing everything right. You involuntarily tensed up as he continued assaulting the soft spongy spot inside of you.

“Let go, don’t be stubborn. Come on, keep your focus on me.” Marc’s voice temptingly pulled you to the ledge along with his fingers, before dropping you down a forty foot cliff.

You cum hard, panting into his mouth as his nose softly brushed against yours. 

—

You stand a little taller, letting your nose brush against his as his fingers tightened their grip on your hip. You let your nose drag along the length of his cheekbone before settling your lips against the shell of his ear. 

“You, Marc Spector, are without a doubt, the most annoying person I’ve ever crossed paths with, and don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice.” you huskily drawled into his ear, making him smile.

“My voice? You could practically command people to do as you please.” he softly reminds you, kneading at your hip slightly. 

“Where do we need to go now?” you ask, playing along and placing your hand gently on his, tracing his long fingers.

He casually flipped his hand and grabbed yours along, pushing the rest of your fingers into a fist as your index finger sticks out, raising it slightly towards a door to your left.

“There.”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Shhh it should be here somewhere,” you whispered, rummaging through items as Marc nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your expensive perfume. 

Marc clearly wasn’t used to 4000 year old alcohol despite having super metabolism. His eyes were lidded and he was hanging onto you like a lost koala. 

“You smell delicious.” he whispered and you felt arousal pool at your lower abdomen at the way his voice seemed to kill all your working brain cells. 

Your hands grabbed something that shot a course of power through your veins and it almost made you shout out loud. 

“Found her!” You turned to look at Marc before catching a glimpse of yourself in a mirror.

Your eyes were glowing gold again and Marc slumped against you, groaning loudly as his hard on pushed against you. You cursed your gift for the second time in your life, pulling Marc’s amulet off his neck and wrapping it around the goddess’ relic. 

—

He was lodged deep inside you, but he wasn’t moving, just softly mouthing at the soft skin of your neck and mumbling something incoherently. You kissed the top of his head and used his shoulder as an anchor, grinding softly against him, never feeling so full in your life. 

Once you felt yourself adjust properly, you started to slowly move up and down. Some coherent curses mangled with Marc’s broken moans, and it pushed you to fuck him faster, now slamming yourself against him with loud slaps. You curse too as Marc’s fingers dug painfully at your hips, drawing blood with nails. 

You clench hard around him and your hand finds his throat, pushing him against the wall as you fucked him with more determination. He chokes, trying to tell you that his release was near, but you knew, from the way he twitched inside of you.

“Fill me up, Marc, fuck-” you stutter as your own orgasm washed over you making you slump against him.

He couldn’t be bothered to thrust up into you, letting the strong clench of your cunt milk him as he released inside of you, breath mingling with yours as he gasped for air. 

—

“The fuck happened?” Marc mumbled, standing up to his original height, pressing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. 

“Nothing, let's just get out of here, now.” you whispered, tucking the relic into your purse and pulling Marc along with you. 

The both of you didn’t stop until you were back in your fancy hotel room, where the gods awaited. Marc handed the relic to Hathor and she smiled at him, patting his cheek. You glared at Khonshu and raised an eyebrow and he reluctantly slapped Marc’s back causing the poor guy to jolt forward, making you giggle slightly. 

“Fuck, thats enough of that for a while.” Marc said, rubbing the spot where Khonshu slapped him.

He sighed and slumped on the couch, holding his arm out for you. You smiled down at him and took his hand, letting him pull you between his outstretched thighs. You sat down on one of his thighs, leaning in as he kissed the hand he was holding, keeping his eyes on you. 

“Wanna pick up where we left off, my queen?” he whispered as your lips inched closer to his. 

“Yes, my knight.” you whisper back, closing the gap and smiling into the kiss. 

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless

[staceymcgillicuddy]

Prompt #9 please!

Oh, Nonnie, this is my last prompt in the inbox and it got me all in my emotions as well! Love an established relationship feelings-fest! (Prompt is "Listen to me.")

~~~~~~~

“Chrissy?” 

Eddie taps on the door of their overpriced hotel room and waits. He has a key, but he wants to respect her need to take a moment. After all, it isn’t every day that your wife flees her little brother’s rehearsal dinner in tears after telling her own sainted mother to “just shut up, okay?” 

Not that Laura Cunningham’s much of a saint. Still, Eddie’s treading carefully because this is the first significant time they’ve spent with the Cunninghams since the Christmas disaster of ’91, and there’s nothing that can send Chrissy spiraling back into the abyss of her childhood faster than a scathing comment from her mother. 

“Hey, Bets,” he says, trying again with a nickname that he only pulls out when the stakes are high. He can’t remember how it started—Christine Elizabeth shortened to Lizzie, Beth, Betty, Bets, maybe—but after eleven years together, eight of them married, and a hundred pet names split between them, what does remembering matter?

Pressing his ear to the door, he waits until he hears a sob before deciding that she’s had warning enough and uses his key.

The room smells like Chrissy’s perfume with an undercurrent of faux-floral toilet scrub. It’s not a place they could ever have afforded alone, which is part of the problem. As parents of the groom (and at said groom’s request), Phillip and Laura are paying for their attendance, which has set Chrissy on a self-destructive path where she has to battle a tornado of tolerance and an earthquake of obligation and yes, sure, Eddie’d suggested they just get a room at the Motel 8 and save themselves the hassle, but she’d wanted to do it for her brother. For Charlie. For his bride-to-be, Addie, who’s actually a cool girl. They’ve been to stay with Chrissy and Eddie in Chicago twice now, and Eddie digs her taste in music more than he’ll ever admit. 

(Addie also said she dug Eddie’s band-on-the-side, which is all he needs to love someone forever.) 

“Eddie,” comes a plaintive wail from the bed.

Chrissy’s curled on her side with a pillow hugged to her abdomen, still wearing the blue floral dress she’d sported to dinner. It has ridden up her thighs considerably, and Eddie must have grown as a person because he only thinks about that for maybe .02 seconds as he crawls onto the bed behind her and wraps an arm around her waist to pull her against his chest. 

“She had it coming,” he says into her artfully coiffed hair, which rests shellacked and sticky against his lips. “Baby. She did.” 

“Is Ch-Ch-Addie mad?” 

“Nobody’s mad except your mother.” In fact—and he won’t tell her this now—Addie’d been hiding a giggle behind a napkin. Eddie knows for a fact that she feels about Laura much the same as he does. Only, you know, she can’t say that to Chrissy because while Chrissy’s allowed to hate her mother, nobody else can say a word, and God, yeah, families are complicated. Eddie’s grateful that he only has to worry about Wayne, and Wayne never gives them any trouble. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says around another miserable little sniffle. 

“Eh.” He shrugs and kisses the spot where her shoulder meets her neck. “She was picking at you, and you snapped. It happens.” 

“But I wasn’t going to do it this time! I was… I worked on all those coping m-mechanisms!” That brings a fresh volley of tears. “Sandra’s going to be so disappointed.” 

“What, like you’re gonna get a bad grade in therapy?” 

“Yes!” She trills the word out on a wail.

Eddie loves her so much, but she’s making a mountain out of a molehill, and while he never minds comforting this particular damsel in distress, he’s also not gonna let her beat herself up when Laura’s the one who threw the first punch. 

“Alright, buddy, c’mon.” He pulls away enough to coax her onto her back, where she stares up at him from puffy, red-rimmed eyes and a blotchy complexion. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” she says. 

There’s snot beneath her nose, so he grabs a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand and holds it to her face. “Blow.”

She blows—honks if he’s honest—and he chucks the tissue onto the table before focusing on her. 

“Okay, counselor, facts of the case. Did your mother kick the evening off by telling you your dress was too tight?” 

Chrissy frowns. “It is, and—”

“Bzzt!” Eddie digs his fingers into her side, which has the intended effect of shocking her into a squeal. “Irrelevant. Conjecture. Also, bullshit. You look hot. So, true or false, counselor? Did she do that?” 

Chrissy nods, mute, pressing her lips into a thin line. But, hey. Not crying, so that’s something. 

“And did she, or did she not, tell everyone at the table that they’re paying for us to be here?” 

Another nod. 

“After which—and correct me if I’m wrong here—she put her hand over your plate so the waiter couldn’t give you any of the lobster risotto.” 

Chrissy’s mouth twists into what might be termed a smile, and she shrugs. 

“So then I switched plates with you, and she gave me that look she always gives me.” 

“What look?” 

“The look where I’m a pile of actual dogshit she’s just stepped in.” 

“Oh.” Chrissy’s smile widens, and she shrugs. “Right. That look.” 

“All of that to say, by the time she gave her little speech about grandchildren and welcoming a daughter into the family… I dunno, Bets, it felt like justifiable homicide to me.” 

“But I did it in front of everyone…” 

“Yeah, well, so did she.” 

“But—“ 

“No buts. Listen to me. Your mother’s never going to change, but you change every day. That’s why you’ve got me, and Sandra, and all our friends who actually like you instead of the stupid little dress-up doll your mother spent eighteen years trying to turn you into.” 

This is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. Chrissy already knows how he feels. However, if the message takes a million times to sink in, Eddie’s willing to keep talking. 

Chrissy blinks, sniffs, and rubs her eyes. “Okay,” she says because she’s not so good at acknowledging the truth of the matter. “I should call Charlie’s room. Apologize to him and Addie and—”

“Or,” Eddie says, cutting her off before she can work herself into another lather. “We could call up room service and charge two fucking massive slices of chocolate cake to your parents.” 

“Eddie…” 

“Best part is, they’re both for you.” 

"Eddie."

"I'll have a bite. And you can call your brother, too."

~~~~~~

All the prompts I've answered!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

"T" is For Tomb - a Magnus Archives one-shot

THIS IS A DARK FIC, OKAY?????

Post MAG-200 spoilers.

Jon. Jon is somewhere.

(Or Jon is nowhere, and he is imagining, he has gone mad, he’s landed where the Fears wanted to go and the Web decided and Jon is eaten, Jon is dust, Jon is—)

Jon is somewhere. Martin will find him (or what was the point of any of this), even if it takes a thousand years.

AO3

---------------------

“What do you want me to do with this?”

Footsteps, distant voices; the crunching of rubble, both falling and loose.

“Leave it. We’re done with tapes.”

Closer steps, grinding grandeur into dust. “Want me to smash it?”

Guilt tinges this voice now, guilt its owner wants to deny. “I think… we can probably just turn it off.”

“Okay.” That voice moves away.

The guilty one (only the smallest bit, only a little aware of what she’s done) approaches, and for reasons unknown, speaks. “If anyone’s listening…” The tape whirs, voices mumble, someone shouts to someone else. “Goodbye,” says she. “I’m sorry, and…” The guilt. It is there, but too late. This cannot be undone. “Good luck.”

#

Martin wakes screaming, and he wakes alone.

He wakes, bereft in terrible discovery of self-without-him in a place of ruination.

Jon! Jon! Jonathan Sims! Please, for the love of God, answer me!

Shouting into a sea of screams, loved ones crying for loved ones, an empty spot beside him where Jon should be. Jon’s blood coating his hand, the knife, his clothes. Jon’s life coagulating, going dark, gathering rubble and dust, less like blood by the hour and more like tar.

Jon! Please!

Martin hears him. He’s sure he does: Martin. Find me, Martin. I’m waiting for you.

But where? Where? How? Jon sounds as calm and inviting as he’d ever done in the weeks before Elias (no, Jonah) sent that letter and ruined it all.

But it's not coming from anywhere. There’s no direction. It’s outside Martin’s head (he’s reasonably sure), but he can’t find it.

Can’t find Jon.

At the end of the day, the first day, the last day, the first-next-day of hell, Martin faces the truth that Jon might be gone.

He refuses to swallow it down.

#

No one sees Martin Blackwood. Not as he is. Not as he was.

Basira does, sometimes. She’s vague about it, knows his name, does not seem to remember what he’s done or whose he is. The rest of the time, she looks through him. Like when he asks about Jon.

Perhaps that’s fortunate. He runs into her a lot, and is sure she would stop him.

His key works in his apartment door (and he feels guilt for leaving the site of destruction, guilt for abandoning the place where hides Jon’s voice, guilt for going to his nice, soft bed when others huddle on rocks that used to be flats and weep for those they miss).

He should be with them. Searching. Helping.

No one searches for him. No one helps him.

He can’t.

#

He goes back the next day. Wanders, calls. Sometimes Jon calls back– just his voice, that gorgeous baritone that first hooked Martin’s thoughts then affection then desire, once Martin had learned to speak Jon and understand how quirky his new boss was, to translate from brusque and maybe mean to he’s fucking scared and lonely so it all made sense.

He hears the voice, but it is further away, and that makes him panic.

He searches, overturning brick, plunging into risky crevasses and disintegrating doorways.

No one sees Martin Blackwood. He walks past police and emergency services, past fucking Basira (who is smug, who is in charge, who seems to think she earned something for putting down a monster, but Martin knows the only thing that earns is pain).

Jon’s voice is further. 

By mid-afternoon, Martin can no longer make out words.

By dusk, it’s gone. Gone. He never found a direction. 

Martin screams.

#

By dark, he doesn't even remember going home, but finds himself there, a path walked in emptied endlessness over many years, and the silence is Buried, constricting his lungs, and the silence is Vast, endless insignificance, and he cannot breathe  at all.

He bathes, and he prays to no one, and he lies in his bed. And he’s hot, and he sweats, and his heart burns within him, and his throat twists to something it ought not be, and his skin crawls with bugs he can neither find or kill.

Jon. Jon is somewhere.

(Or Jon is nowhere, and he is imagining, he has gone mad, he’s landed where the Fears wanted to go and the Web decided and Jon is eaten, Jon is dust, Jon is—)

Jon is somewhere. Martin will find him (or what was the point of any of this), even if it takes a thousand years.

#

Somewhere around day three, he realizes he has not eaten.

He doesn’t feel hungry. Should he? He didn’t feel hungry in the apocalypse, either (and memories of bringing tea, never drunk, break him down, crush him onto the sidewalk like preserved peaches), but after his weeping, Jon is still gone.

Martin will not stop calling.

Jon!

Nothing. 

Jon!

No voice. No—

Wait.

Jon?

There is… something. A touch, a breeze, a memory of breeze, an instinct that says Jon is not too far. Jon is alive. Jon is there. Jon is—

Jon is.

Martin runs. Runs, tripping over rubble and dandruffed concrete, at last fleeing the wrecked, wry circle of the Panopticon’s fall. He ignores Basira’s shout (of course, now she sees him), following not a sound not a sight not a knowledge but an instinct, something born of faith and will and maybe madness, something he will follow even if it is right off a damn cliff.

#

It is not dissimilar to the Apocalypse, in many ways. He runs until he can’t, then walks until something kills him (and nothing does), north, following that wrong and reminiscent beckoning, through roads clogged with abandoned cars and cracked glass and memories of terror.

And he has not eaten, and it does not matter. 

Jon.

#

The sun rises and sets and rises again, and Martin wipes his face to find he sweats but does not thirst, and wonders if he will die on this trip.

It does not matter. Maybe this is the last walk. Maybe today was the last of his final days alive, and if so, he does not care. He’s done.

He had to stab his beloved. He had to do the worst thing. What more can the world ask of him?

Jon.

He feels Jon. Senses.

He walks.

#

Sun rise.

Sun set.

Sun rise, sun set, sun rise, sun set, shoes worn, hole in sole in soul in mausoleum of thought and mind and pattern, and all he can do is walk. Nothing besides remains.

Sun rise. Sun set. And on the seventh day, like creation, not terribly far from Aberfeldy, he knows that he will rest.

#

He descends into the grassy valley, past the place where good cows once stood, but the cabin is not there. Something else is. He stares, stunned in ticklish grass that lightly scratches his dried, dirty hands, and stares some more.

It is a tomb.

Above ground (necropolis like New Orleans). Burnt and blasted, abandoned and rust-stained, and its dark, decorative door hangs wide open.

(He has neither drunk nor eaten since waking, and sure he must be hallucinating now at the very least.)

And Martin opens his mouth, and for the first time since waking, truly speaks. “Jon?”

Martin

on the breeze on his cheek on his lips skipping the bother of ears—

Martin come to me

Martin comes.

It’s over. The end. Whatever comes next in this helpless world is not his to do.

“I paid for my peace,” he says like dry bones, squeaking together under sun and gnawed by something dark. “I paid for my peace! ”

(And thinks, as his dirty, frayed trainer-toe just dips into the impenetrable shadow, that this is what They were waiting for, that They are bound to Jon and he to Them, and it should not have been possible to disappear into the Lonely since Martin woke up, but it was, it is, because something went wrong, and oh, it will go so much more wrong, but Jon waited because Martin wasn’t here, and once Martin is here, it will continue to wrongness, and Martin does not care, and Martin paid for his peace, and Jon did too, and maybe Jon’s peace is no longer what it was when he was human unstabbed alive appeasable —)

Martin, whispers the tomb-wet breeze.

“Jon,” he creaks in tomb-dry tone.

Martin

Martin steps into the dark, sees nothing, feels

Finds

“Jon,” he says, falling into familiar arms, into that known funny scent of ink and electronics and spiders, does not care that he is seen and stripped and flensed in this dark of all-sight, does not care about pain or grief or anything but this, does not care that (Jon died this is not Jon this is something else) whatever remains is enough of Jon to want him back, and what more matters now?

Martin paid for his peace.

Jon doubly so.

“I’m home,” Martin whispers, crumbles, disintegrates, rests, and as he is held, the door, in need of oil, screeches closed as the world finds screaming again.

-------------

Notes:

So, uh. This is my 200th fanfic. I did not exactly plan for it to be sad? Here we are, anyway! I'll create some proper fluff to make up for it. Scout's Honor.

[m-jelly]

Jelly, thank you for doing my request! Reading it made me feel better (I have a really bad infection rn but that's beside the point). Do you think you could do a part two? Where Post war Levi and Freyja!Reader are now looking out at the ocean, talking about all they went through. Reader tells Levi of Asgard and Levi tells reader of The Underground City. When Levi goes into all the stuff he had to go through in order to survive. Reader, not wanting to lose the love of her life after a world of hate with Odin, wants to make him a god, the god of Survival, Heroes, and Freedom. Feel free to ignore! :D

Searching part 2

Levi x fem!reader

Canon world, reincarnation, Norse mythology, goddess powers, action, being in love, married, fluff, angst, reader has tattoos, reader has long hair with braids and beads.

In this chapter: Levi and you have a moment on the beach where you connect. You reflect on the bad memories and the good ones you made together now as a married couple. You want eternity with Levi and offer him a God position with you at his side. Reluctant at first because he doesn't think he'd be good enough, he accepts so he can be with you forever.

Part 1

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

Levi's thumb ran over your hand as his fingers remained entwined with yours. The two of you decided to have a picnic on the beach for a date. While you were enjoying the sun and peace, the two of you just started talking naturally about your lives.

A long sigh came from Levi and paused as his story hung in the air. "I'm glad I got out, but the cost..."

"You were played by man. No matter where you go, there will always be greed." You lifted his left hand and kissed below his wedding ring. "I am sorry for your loss. You have grown and fought so much."

He smiled a little. "I fought to survive, but after you it was fighting to spend forever with you."

You leaned over and kissed him. "I am forever grateful. I love you more than words can say. My love for you is stronger than the walls protecting Asgard."

Levi blushed. "I can only imagine how impressive they are." He gazed at you. "You know about my life, what about yours? You said this is your second life."

You gulped hard and looked out at the sea. "Yes. I died in my first life all because of Odin."

"He was the King of the Gods, right?"

You nodded. "He was. We all trusted him, but he was...he was a terrible father to so many. I worked hard and made sure to keep a distance, but the things he did to his children. Poor Thor was always trying to make him proud, but he never achieved it. Odin's madness and desperate hunt for more power led us all down a path to destruction. Loki had enough and started the end, Ragnarok."

Levi stared at you. "What happened to you?"

You welled up. "I thought he loved me. I became his lover. I am ashamed of that."

"How did you die? Was it in a great battle?"

You shook your head. "Most people don't know what happened to me. My part is lost in texts and teachings to the people. Some thought I died in battle, others I killed myself and lastly people thought I was spared."

Levi called your name when he saw pain in your eyes. "Odin killed you, didn't he?"

You sobbed a little before stopping yourself. "He went insane. He was searching for the meaning of life and trying to beat Ragnarok. I was against it all. There is nothing wrong with not knowing the end. Sometimes life and things don't have meaning, they just happen. He knew he was losing me, so he killed me and buried what happened to me before the world ended."

"Tch, that piece of shit. I wish he was alive so I could kill him."

You giggled. "Thank you."

Levi gazed at you. "Is he alive?"

You shrugged. "Everyone probably is living their second life. I'm glad I'm not with them. I want to be here with you." You gulped hard and opened your little bag. "Speaking of you. When I arrived in this world, I had a bag with me, remember?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

You pulled out a bottle. "This has a special drink that can make someone a god." You looked over at Levi. "I want eternity with you."

Levi moved closer. "Me too."

"I think that you would be the god of Survival, Heroes, and Freedom. You would be incredible."

Levi whined a bit. "I don't know about that. I want eternity with you, but I don't think I would be a good god."

"Levi, you know what loss is. You know what it means to keep fighting even against all odds. People looked up to you and they still do now. You are incredible."

He smiled a bit at you. "You see me in such a beautiful light, but..."

"A God who doubts themselves and sees fault is good. Odin thought he was the best and fell. Other gods I knew with egos were the same. To know you can't do everything is true. As a god, you can't bless everyone and save everyone, but that's not always what they want. Sometimes they just want a person to listen."

Levi reached over and grabbed the bottle. "You'll be with me, right?"

"Every single step and I will shower you with all my love."

He kissed you and moaned in delight. "I'm with you." He brought the bottle close to his lips. "Plus, I am interested in the fertility part of your goddess role."

You gasped and felt your cheeks burn. "Y-You, flirt."

He downed the drink that tasted like custard. He flopped back onto the blanket as his body glowed and began to tingle. All the injuries and aches in his body went and only faded scars remained. He was born again but into a new life of love and happiness with you. It felt like he was breathing for the first time in a while.

He sat up and gazed at you. "I feel...alive."

You leaned closer and kissed him. "You've changed. Your wounds are gone, only scars remain."

Levi pounced on you making you squeal in delight. "I feel energised. I want to shower you with love."

You mewled in delight. "I'm all yours."