#is a concept that makes me LEVITATE INTO THE AIR | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evereinefaust · 2 years ago

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*.·:·.✧ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✧.·:·.*

[Y/n] always knew that in certain scenes in a film, actors would be harnessed with a cord to perform dangerous stunts or when their character floats or levitates. And it's no different from a certain trio in LOH. Yet, despite knowing the concept of using strings to lift actors, seeing it behind the scenes is still a different experience altogether. And for as curious as a person [Y/n] can be, she is excited to see how they manage to pull off Brandon, Nine, and Laphlaes' levitation pre-edit.

That's why she decided to hang around the studio set where green screens, lighting, and video cameras were arranged around. Fortunately for her, the production team allowed her to stay and watch, despite not being needed in the scene. It's not unusual for some people to find themselves fascinated by the technical work of the crew and their skills in handling the actors on set.

And she was fortunate enough to be at the company the same day as these three's shooting. They certainly aren't the only ones who needed to be filmed — there are other characters that needed the rigging equipment to pull out some of their skill animation such as Lyn. But, it just happens that the said pinkette wasn't present today. Nevertheless, she is still happy to witness these specific males in action.

"How much time before you want me out?" she asked the crew.

"You can stay here as long as you want," replied one of them who is the director. "But I'm telling you this now, please do behave yourself."

She had to smile at that. "I promise I'll behave, and it was nice of you to let me stay. It will certainly make my day!"

The director let out a breath, his face looking relieved. "Just please don't do anything funny while we're doing the shooting. And please keep your hands to yourself if you know what I mean."

And [Y/n] nodded in agreement. After all, everyone knew who they are dealing with here. Although in general, the [h/c]-tressed teen was a well-behaved sweetheart, there will be times that she will join in with pranks and shenanigans with her friends. It's not one or two she was caught red-handed, and often she would be scolded heavily by her older siblings or even Rouin, her manager. Though, of course, the higher-ups would let the kids have fun and run amok from time to time. And certainly, as long as [Y/n] didn't commit any grave mistakes that would endanger the company and her fellow actors, they would be lenient towards her mischievous behavior.

Her [e/c] hues watched as Brandon was strapped with a rope that was attached to an airframe. He was suspended a few feet up in the air and was being assisted to turn by the assistant. As soon as Brandon felt the rope getting taut, he turned to look at [Y/n] and waved at her. The young girl smiled, waving back without hesitations.

"I wonder how it feels like... So envious... If only my character can also levitate like theirs..."

The young girl knew nothing about the technicality of that stunt rig equipment, but seeing them in action nearby is a rare and fascinating experience for her. After a few minutes of Brandon being pulled by the cords left and right to practice his mobility, it was time to film his movements. The first thing that they're working on was his walking—floating—motion that will be used for the Unity Plaza. It was quite simple and his movement was elegant.

Two cords that were attached to his hips were pulling him slightly forward, and two more were hanging above to stabilize him. The way it was done gave the impression that he was levitating in that direction with his upper body first, not just a stiff movement. Brandon went into circles for a few minutes, the different cameras around the set capturing his movement from many angles. After that, he did the same floating forward movement but much faster, and this time, his upper body was leaning a bit further than before, imitating a running form if done in mid-air.

"Are you enjoying yourself, [Y/n]?" a gentle voice suddenly spoke from beside her, making her jump and look away from Brandon to meet the owner of the voice.

It turned out to be Laphlaes. The redheaded adult elicited a small giggle, tucking a stray strand of scarlet behind his ear.

"Oh, Laphlaes! You startled me a bit..." she said, eyes widening for a moment before she turned her attention back to the ravenette man doing a simple pose on set. "Yeah, I'm actually having some fun watching Brandon dangle and do cool stuff like that."

"Mhm," Laphlaes hummed, observing the girl's [e/c] hues focused and interested. "I'm sure you will enjoy seeing us do our battle animations."

[Y/n] faced the man and grinned. "I'm sure I will! I would definitely look forward to seeing how it was done before and after the edit~"

After giving the girl a simple head pat, Laphlaes left her. [Y/n] assumed that he was going to pick up his son from the dressing room and get ready for their turn after Brandon finished filming his. It didn't take long for the said man to wrap up the first section of the filming — the animations needed for Unity Plaza. Since the movements required are simple enough and didn't need any technicality, the crew was able to record everything they need right away.

Brandon was let down on the ground for a short while as the crew began arranging more things on set. [Y/n] watched all this from the sideline, trying her best not to interfere since the men were working so hard. Her curiosity about the process of filming was growing bigger every second that passed. She'd ask questions and offer comments here and there, but she was content enough just to observe from afar.

When it was done, she noticed something else present on the set — a chair-like object that was covered in blue. This made the cogs in [Y/n]'s head turn, as she had no idea what it was for. However, before she could speculate on it, the crew resumed the filming and Brandon was instructed to sit on the said object.

"Oh, so it's supposed to be a chair of sorts? Weird..."

A tired yawn escaped a certain girl's lips, wiping away the tears from the corner of her eyes. It was already around 5 in the afternoon when the crew wrapped up their filming session of the three for today. [Y/n] watched through the entire process devotedly, her eyes were filled with fascination, and didn't even leave the three males while they were recording. Despite not being well-versed in the area of filming and stunts, the girl was fortunate to have one of the crew entertain her the entire time.

Philip, one of the crew members, came up to her in the middle of Brandon's turn filming. He was the one [Y/n] was chatting with about the process of stunt rigging. He answered every question she has and explained the process of stunt rigs and how it works. Not only was the girl gets to enjoy free entertainment by watching Brandon, Nine, and Laphlaes's film, but she also gained new knowledge about this area of expertise.

The common equipment used for aerial stunts was the wires attached to an airframe to let their actors move. That, [Y/n] knew as basic. But other types of equipment such as a tuning fork, Robomoco arm, and parallelogram were something that the [h/c]ette had no idea about wasn't for Philip explaining to her about it. Of course, the crew didn't just use the wire rigs as their primary source of equipment for the film. They also used other devices that are appropriate to the idea and stunts that they wanted the actors to achieve. Needless to say, [Y/n] also gets to see the tuning fork and Robomoco arm in action.

Some of Nine's animation needed the tuning fork and Robomoco arm in addition to the wires, and to say that [Y/n] was amazed seeing those in real life was an understatement. She literally had sparkles in her [e/c] eyes when the huge equipment was being placed in set by the crew. Even Laphlaes and Brandon's animation needed the tuning fork to work on some of their movements.

Her gaze landed on Brandon sitting on the adjacent couch she was on, his eyes closed with his right elbow propped against the armrest and his left cheek resting against his fist. He was quietly resting, soft breathing escaping his slightly parted mouth. Then, she shifted towards the father-son duo in the dining area. Laphlaes was reading a book while Nine was sleeping with his head slumped against the table. A small smile emerged on her face, laying on a couch inside the lounge.

"Great work, guys... Take your well-deserved rest."

She was glad that she decided to watch the behind-the-scenes, seeing that not only did she get entertained but also learned something. She was happy for the boys to get to experience floating, but a part of her was still envious that she didn't get to have a chance to experience those as well. Though, who knows, maybe in the future her wish will be fulfilled?

#fanfic #fanfiction #alternate universe #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #fluff #drabble #lord of heroes #loh #moments in archive #female reader

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 2 years ago

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I'm amazed by the way you write for shu bcs like.. the world-building and description about magical things are so detailed. It's always fun to read, you really stole my heart right from my first request for Trading a Heart.

(Psst.. also if it's not used yet, can i be 🍰 anon? Thank you) (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

oh it’s fun? PHEW. i always get worried i get too wordy about it

worldbuilding is always my favorite part about writing. i’m a very visual person, whenever i have a thought about some fic to write i always see it in the way that a director sees actors on a stage, so i always spend more time discussing their actions and the details of the environment around them than i intend to… it colors the world. easier for me to imagine affectionate actions when the other guy’s place in relation to the rest of the “stage” is established! and easier for me to imagine exactly how shu and reader understand selling a heart when they exhibit their own magic through the fic

the distinction between reader’s divinations and shu’s conjurations was a point i really wanted to hone in. shu can create and destroy and is more physical whereas reader’s strengths are mental and thoughtful. of course a guy that practices corporeal blessings and harm would struggle with intangible concepts. and reader’s magic is all characterized through intangible concepts and reading the air (lol yes i considered their name- er lack of name). whenever they actually manipulate the world around them it’s very minor such as levitating tiny cards and blowing out candles. if you play dnd i imagine reader’s physical abilities comparable to prestigitation and thamaturgy cantrips while shu has a whole ass spell list. reader’s strengths are in accessing memories, future sight, all that. meanwhile shu’s welcoming drink trick is more complex and requires creating something out of nothing versus reader simply moving cards from point a to point b

even though i’m fueled by requests i still want to make every fic something i’d read myself. in turn the fics that i always return to usually have some forethought about how x meshes with y and how that connection relates with z, and so on, just like reader and shu’s magic and how that connects to their relationship…! as i’ve continued this blog i realize you can kinda notice that easier with my angstier stuff, but it’s a consistent thought no matter what genre i write. maybe that’s more character dynamic than worldbuilding, but that’s a formula i use often for… just about anything i want to have substance. idk if i’ll ever write a multi chapter niji fic but if i ever do? expect that sort of weight on how i characterize the world around the characters, and what the characters mean to one another. it really is my favorite part of writing!

and maybe that’s also too much thought to provide into a vtuber x reader blog. sometimes k*ssing is enough

but ty 🍰 anon, i’m thankful you enjoy my works

#oh GOD. i shouldn’t’ve pushed the tower-isn’t-an-innately-bad-card agenda #if you know you know #but ty to 🍰 for giving me an opportunity to explain my writing process i should do this more <3 #unit 4402 reporting #4402 answers #🍰 anon #nice comments

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nayialovecat · 2 years ago

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Former Bishops and Lamb (fragment)

About Hell of the Gods a little. Lamb tries to be a good new god of life and death and show respect to defeated enemies, but with their reluctance, it's not easy…

This is Lamb's second visit to the Hell of the Gods. In the first, they fixed what Narinder had done - for everyone except Shamura.

The fragment comes from the 10th volume (which is currently being written), from chapter 1 - In the Hell of the Gods. I avoid the spoilers.

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Chapter 1 - In the Hell of the Gods

They lifted everything into the air and stepped into a familiar corridor with barred cells. They put things on the table and then flew up to the levers lifting the bars. "Well, let's jump," they muttered. "At most, I'll destroy everything if I get pissed, right?"

"Don't even joke like that," snorted Red Crown, but seemed amused by such a concept.

The bars went up. At this the creatures behind them twitched. Lamb sank to the edge of the table and waited a moment while the distrustful former Bishops hesitated to leave their cells. After a moment, Leshy was the first to emerge, with a deft glide he found his way to the table and grew in front of Lamb like a mountain. He blinked his four intensely pink eyes.

"Oh, the sacrificial beast is back," he shouted behind him.

"I'm back and I have for you what you asked for... and what you didn't ask for," announced Lamb cheerfully, and then lifted the things destined for Leshy with a flick of their finger. "I figured that seeds alone won't do you much good, so here are some other things too... sorry if these tools offend you, I just figured they might be useful... I'll also make you a water source in the cell right away to water your crops, but for light I don't think I can do much... maybe some miniature sun? Glowing mushrooms? I'm not sure how plants work, especially such dead ones..."

"Hmm..." Leshy let out a murmur, but his eyes lit up as he recognized the seeds. "Your followers grow such species of flowers?"

"They do. I have many enthusiasts in the village, every now and then they order or bring in new seeds. You can't even imagine how beautifully the temple is decorated for each flowering festival, weddings or the fedtival of the Sky Fires."

Shamura stood slightly off to the side and watched Lamb. They immediately flew up to them, levitating the books behind them. The spider stepped back, refusing to be touched. "I didn't choose these books, but trusted your former vessels... The Council was very helpful," Lamb announced, trying to get closer. However, the spider kept their distance and the small leader knew why. They sighed. "They also advised me against healing your wounds, and seeing your reluctance to do so, I think I will temporarily give up. I'm in no hurry to hemorrhage my brain. But don't think I'm abandoning the idea altogether, Shamura. I will still help you. Just... not now."

"It's... bad idea..." whispered the spider, and then accepted the books. They looked through the titles. His eyes lit up. "Oh... great... I remember this book... and this one too... maybe it will be easier... will understand..." After a moment, they raised their gaze to Lamb again. There was a trace of the old intelligence in their eyes. Lamb endured the look before it became misty again. "Did you get along... get along with them?" Shamura finally asked, tilting his head. "The Council? Did you have a conversation?"

"Yes. I've formed an alliance with Silk Cradle and I'm on track to appoint a new Bishop there."

The spider's eyes lit up.

(...) "And here, please fo ahead, your things..." said Lamb cheerfully. [Kallamar] was astonished when they pressed a bundle of sheets of paper and a writing pen onto his tentacles.

"I didn't ask for anything," he noted.

"I know, but Narinder revealed to me that you like puzzles, so I asked several people to create puzzles. Would you rather sit and be bored?"

He hesitated. He carefully lifted the first of the cards with one hand. He looked at it. It had a short note at the very top of the page. "Banal," he snorted, but looked intrigued.

"I didn't take you the ink because Narinder said you didn't need it, but..."

He just waved his hand. "Yes, yes.. let it be. I accept your somewhat pathetic gift... although if it was meant as an acknowledgement of my intellect, I feel insulted for now..."

The giant squid retreated to his cell, browsing the pages vaguely and snorting disdainfully. Lamb glanced at the table. The dress for Heket still lay there, and she herself had not moved from her cell. They flew to the table and picked up the dress along with the shawl, then landed on the ground and cautiously moved to one of the middle cells. The light in this one was off.

"Heket? Are you all right? I have something for you too..."

"I didn't ask for anything..." they heard a whisper. They twitched slightly. Was something wrong that she whispered? All in all, they cured her as the last, maybe not completely, maybe something broke... Kallamar had ears and hearing, Leshy could see, but she...

"I know you didn't ask, but Anura inhabitants..." She twitched slightly. They noticed a large shape moving in the darkness, but only slightly, as if she had changed position. She seemed to be lying on the bed. "I don't say followers, because they didn't even know you.... But they found something of yours... Yellow Crown approved it and..."

The shape moved and arose. Lamb lifted their head. Heket was really big compared to them. So after a moment's hesitation, they flew up to her eyes. In the darkness, they could barely see the yellow eyes focused on itself.

"Here. They wanted me to pass this on to you. All of them. Yellow Crown and the beings of Anura."

"Is this..." she began uncertainly, extending her hand. Her long fingers stroked the fabric. "It is so... realistic..."

"It's an exact astral copy of your dress," explained Lamb. "I can't move material things here."

"Did you burn my gown?"

"There was no need to do so. It was enough to give it as a sacrifice without destroying it."

"Get out of my cell."

They was bewildered. Saddened. "Thought you would be happy..." they bubbled uncertainly. "I'm sorry if..."

"Get out," she repeated with a sigh, still in a whisper, and they was certain that she rolled her eyes. All four of them. "I have to change, right?"

They lightened their muzzle slightly. They nodded and wandered out of the cell. They looked over at Leshy, who was already ditching the soil in the seedbed with excitement and placing seeds in it - one at a time, with deep respect. Lamb flew up to him.

"Then where do you want this spring?"

"Anywhere... I do not care about other furniture, you can remove the bed..."

They nodded its head. They lit up their eyes, changing the structure of the cell, and after a while, instead of a bed, there was a water reservoir against the wall, from which a small fountain erupted. "Well, I'm not an artist and engineer like Kallamar, but I guess that's enough, right?"

The worm nodded. He glanced at the lamb. He paused his work for a moment. "But you are aware that I hate you anyway?" He asked with polite curiosity.

"Yes. You have the right to do so."

"Good. If doing you harm wasn't a risk of annihilating my siblings, I wouldn't hesitate to lash out at you and wring your neck."

"Pff... good luck to you, you would have acutely succeeded," snorted Red Crown, although the worm could not hear him.

"I know, a very definite lust for murder beats from you," admitted Lamb.

"It's good that we have that clear. Now get out of my cell. Even if you are the god of life and death, this one piece of your domain belongs to me. Get out of it."

They obediently flew outside the bars. They smiled, however. They hesitated to glance at Kallamar, who didn't even react to the remark about himself, when at that moment it heard a clatter of footsteps. Heket stepped out of her cell. Shamura raised their gaze to her and something in their eyes flashed. Kallamar leaned out of his cell and also froze.

Heket looked truly beautiful. The pink of her dress blended with her red skin in places, making the dress look like it was part of her body, giving her an almost phantom-like appearance. She wrapped a shawl around her neck and tied a bow in the back. The long sleeves reached almost to the ground. She smoothed the folds around her waist uncertainly - she must have once been a bit slimmer, but the dress still lay perfectly on her.

"Well, well, sister..." said appreciatively Kallamar, blinking with obvious satisfaction. "I didn't think I'd see you in that creation yet... let me think.. A dress for the beginning of the flowering season, isn't it?"

She nodded her head beaming.

Shamura walked closer. They hesitated before reaching out a hand to touch the fabric. Heket turned around. "Beautiful..." whispered the spider. "It's been so long since we've seen you like this..."

"True..." Heket lowered her gaze. She was already speaking normally, and her voice delighted Lamb once again. "Since the mutilation by Narinder... I lost the desire to attire myself. I felt ugly... hideous..."

"You were never ugly..." Shamura touched her cheek affectionately. "And now... now you're blooming like you've never been before... Pity, what a pity..."

She blushed. Lamb that was looking at them suddenly felt strangely intrusive.

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Rozdział 1 - W Piekle Bogów

Uniosło wszystko w powietrze i wkroczyło do znajomego korytarza z zakratowanymi celami. Położyło rzeczy na stole, a potem podleciało do dźwigni podnoszących kraty.

- No, to siup... - mruknęło. - Najwyżej rozwalę wszystko, jeśli się wkurzę, tak?

- Nawet sobie tak nie żartuj - prychnęła Czerwona Korona, ale wydawała się być rozbawiona takim konceptem.

Kraty podniosły się. Na to istoty za nimi drgnęły. Jagnię opadło na krawędź stołu i czekało chwilę, podczas gdy nieufni dawni Biskupi wahali się, czy opuścić swoje cele. Po chwili jako pierwszy wyłonił się Leshy, zręcznym ślizgiem znalazł się przy stole i wyrósł przed Jagnięciem niczym góra. Zamrugał swoimi czterema intensywnie różowymi oczami.

- Och, ofiarna bestia wróciła - rzucił za siebie.

- Wróciłom i mam dla was to, o co prosiliście... i to, o co nie prosiliście - oznajmiło wesoło Jagnię, a potem uniosło jednym ruchem palca rzeczy przeznaczone dla Leshego. - Uznałom, że same nasiona na niewiele ci się zdadzą, więc masz tu też kilka innych rzeczy... przepraszam, jeśli te narzędzia cię obrażają, po prostu uznałom, że mogą być przydatne... zrobię ci zaraz także w celi źródło wody do podlewania twoich upraw, ale na światło chyba niewiele poradzę... może jakieś miniaturowe słońce? Świecące grzyby? Nie jestem pewne, jak działają rośliny, zwłaszcza takie martwe...

- Hmm... - Leshy wydał z siebie pomruk, ale oczy mu rozbłysły, gdy rozpoznawał nasiona. - Twoi wyznawcy hodują takie gatunki kwiatów?

- Owszem. Mam w wiosce wielu pasjonatów, co i rusz zamawiają lub sprowadzają nowe nasiona. Nawet sobie nie wyobrażasz, jak pięknie jest przystrojona świątynia na każde święto kwitnienia, śluby czy święto Ogni Niebios.

Shamura stał nieco na uboczu i obserwował Jagnię. To natychmiast podleciało do niego, lewitując za sobą księgi. Pająk cofnął się, nie dając się dotknąć.

- Nie ja wybierałom te księgi, ale zaufałom waszym dawnym naczyniom... Rada okazała się bardzo pomocna - oznajmiło, usiłując bardziej się zbliżyć. Pająk trzymał jednak dystans i mały lider wiedział dlaczego. Westchnął. - Odradziła mi też zaleczenie waszych ran, a widząc waszą niechęć do tego, chyba chwilowo zrezygnuję. Nie spieszno mi do krwotoków mózgu. Ale nie myślcie, że całkowicie porzucam ten pomysł, Shamura. Jeszcze wam pomogę. Tylko... nie teraz.

- To... zły pomysł... - wyszeptał pająk, a potem przyjął księgi. Przeglądał tytuły. Jego oczy rozbłysły. - Och... wspaniale... pamiętam tę księgę... i tę również... może łatwiej... będzie zrozumieć...

Po chwili podniósł znów spojrzenie na Jagnię. W jego oczach był ślad dawnej inteligencji. Jagnię zniosło to spojrzenie, zanim ponownie się zamgliło.

- Dogadałoś... się z nimi? - zapytali wreszcie Shamura, przekrzywiając głowę. - Rada? Rozmawialiście?

- Tak. Zawiązałom sojusz z Silk Cradle i jestem na dobrej drodze do wyznaczenia tam nowego Biskupa.

Oczy pajaka rozbłysły.

(...) - A tutaj, proszę, twoje rzeczy... - rzuciło wesoło Jagnię. [Kallamar] Zdumiał się, gdy wcisnęło mu na macki plik kartek i pióro do pisania.

- O nic nie prosiłem - zauważył.

- Wiem. Ale Narinder zdradził mi, że lubisz zagadki, więc poprosiłom kilka osób o stworzenie zagadek. Wolisz siedzieć i się nudzić?

Zawahał się. Ostrożnie uniósł jedną dłonią pierwszą z kart. Przyjrzał się jej. Miała krótką notatkę na samej górze strony.

- Banalne - prychnął, ale wyglądał na zaintrygowanego.

- Nie wzięłom ci atramentu, bo Narinder powiedział, że go nie potrzebujesz, ale...

Tylko machnął ręką.

- Tak, tak... niech będzie. Przyjmuję twój nieco patetyczny dar... chociaż jeśli miało to być uznanie mojego intelektu, to na razie czuję się obrażony...

Wielka kałamarnica oddaliła się do swojej celi, przeglądając kartki pobieżnie i prychając pogardliwie. Jagnię spojrzało na stół. Szata dla Heket nadal tam leżała, a ona sama nie ruszyła się z celi. Podleciało do stołu i wzięło suknię wraz z szalem, a potem wylądowało na ziemi i ostrożnie ruszyło do jednej ze środkowych cel. Światło w tej było zgaszone.

- Heket? Wszystko w porządku? Dla ciebie też coś mam...

- O nic nie prosiłam... - usłyszał szept. Drgnął lekko. Czy coś się stało, że szeptała? W sumie leczyło ją ostatnią, może nie do końca, może coś się zepsuło... Kallamar miał uszy i słuch, Leshy widział, ale ona...

- Wiem, że nie prosiłaś, ale mieszkańcy Anury...

Drgnęła lekko. Dostrzegł wielki kształt poruszający się w ciemności, ale tylko nieznacznie, jakby zmieniła pozycję. Zdaje się, że leżała na łóżku.

- Nie mówię wyznawcy, bo nawet cię nie znali... ale znaleźli coś twojego... Żółta Korona to zaaprobowała i...

Kształt poruszył się i powstał. Jagnię zadarło głowę. Heket była naprawdę wielka w porówaniu z nim. Po chwili wahania podleciało więc do jej oczu. W mroku ledwo widziało żółte ślepia skupione na sobie.

- Proszę. Chcieli, abym ci to przekazało. Wszyscy. Żółta Korona i istoty z Anury.

- Czy to... - zaczęła niepewnie, wyciągając dłoń. Jej długie palce pogładziły materiał. - Jest taki... realistyczny...

- To dokładna astralna kopia twojej sukni - wyjaśniło Jagnię. - Nie mogę tu przenieść materialnych rzeczy.

- Spaliliście moją suknię?

- Nie było potrzeby. Wystarczyło złożyć ją w darze bez potrzeby niszczenia.

- Wyjdź z mojej celi.

Zdumiało się. Posmutniało.

- Myślałom, że się ucieszysz... - bąknęło niepewnie. - Przepraszam, jeśli...

- Wyjdź - powtórzyła z westchnieniem, ciągle szeptem, a ono było pewne, że przewróciła oczami. Wszystkimi czterema. - Muszę się przebrać, tak?

Nieco rozjaśniło pyszczek. Skinęło głową i wyfrunęło z celi. Zajrzało do Leshego, który już z eskscytacją rozkopywał ziemię w rozsadniku i umieszczał w nim nasionka - po jednym, z głębokim szacunkiem. Jagnię podleciało do niego.

- To gdzie chcesz to źródełko?

- Gdziekolwiek... nie dbam o inne meble, możesz usunąć łóżko...

Skinęło głową. Rozświetliło oczy, zmieniając strukturę celi i po chwili zamiast łóżka pod ścianą znajdował się zbiornik wodny, z którego wybijała niewielka fontanna.

- No, nie jestem artystą i inżynierem jak Kallamar, ale to chyba wystarczy, prawda?

Robak skinął głową. Zerknął na Jagnię. Na chwilę przerwał pracę.

- Ale masz świadomość, że i tak cię nienawidzę? - zapytał z uprzejmym zaciekawieniem.

- Tak. Masz do tego prawo.

- Dobrze. Gdyby zrobienie ci krzywdy nie stanowiło ryzyka unicestwienia mojego rodzeństwa, nie wahałbym się rzucić na ciebie i skręcić ci kark.

- Pff... powodzenia, akurat by ci się udało - prychnęła Czerwona Korona, chociaż robak nie mógł jej usłyszeć.

- Wiem. Bije od ciebie bardzo konkretna żądza mordu - przyznało Jagnię.

- Dobrze, że mamy to jasne. A teraz wyjdz z mojej celi. Nawet, jeśli jesteś bogiem życia i śmierci, ten jeden kawałek twojej domeny należy do mnie. Wynoś się z niego.

Posłusznie wyleciało poza kraty. Uśmiechnęło się jednak. Wahało się, czy zerknąć do Kallamara, który nawet nie zareagował na uwagę o sobie, gdy w tym momencie usłyszało plaskanie kroków. Heket wyszła ze swojej celi. Shamura podniósł na nią wzrok i coś w jego oczach rozbłysło. Kallamar wychylił się ze swojej celi i także zamarł.

Heket wyglądała naprawdę pięknie. Róż jej sukni zlewał się miejscami kolorystycznie z jej czerwoną skórą, przez co suknia wyglądała, jakby była częścią jej ciała, nadając jej wygląd niemalże zjawy. Wokół szyi owinęła szal, zawiązała kokardę z tyłu. Długie rękawy sięgały niemal ziemi. Wygładziła niepewnie fałdy wokół talii - niegdyś musiała być nieco szczuplejsza, ale suknia nadal leżała na niej doskonale.

- No, no, siostro... - rzucił z uznaniem Kallamar, mrugając z wyraźnym zadowoleniem. - Nie myślałem, że jeszcze zobaczę cię w tej kreacji... daj mi pomyśleć... Suknia na początek pory kwitnienia, czyż nie?

Skinęła głową rozpromieniona.

Shamura podeszli bliżej. Zawahali się, nim wyciągnęli dłoń, aby dotknąć materiału. Heket obróciła się.

- Piękna... - szepnął pająk. - Tak dawno nie widzieliśmy... cię taką...

- Prawda... - Heket opuściła wzrok. Mówiła już normalnie, a jej głos zachwycił Jagnię po raz kolejny. - Od okaleczenia przez Narindera... straciłam chęć strojenia się. Czułam się brzydka... ohydna...

- Nigdy nie byłaś brzydka... - Shamura dotknęli jej policzka z czułością. - A teraz... teraz jesteś kwitnąca, jak jeszcze nigdy... Szkoda, co za szkoda...

Zarumieniła się. Jagnię, które patrzyło na nich, poczuło się nagle dziwnie intruzem.

#Cult of the Wrath #Cult of the Lamb #Wrath the Lamb #Red Crown #Leshy the Earthworm #Shamura the Spider #Kallamar the Squid #Heket the Frog #former Bishop Leshy #former Bishop Shamura #former Bishop Kallamar #former Bishop Heket #Yellow Crown (mentioned)#my novel

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oraclequill · 28 days ago

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Playing with Light - Chapter 1/2(?) - Rated E

Or read it on AO3 - A kudos is appreciated! Character(s) - Link, Rauru (Background/Implied Zelink Pairings - Background/implied ZeLink Alternate Universe/Canon Divergence, General vague Spoilers for the plot Tears of the Kingdom for those that know. Closing Notes: I might just break this up into short idea drabbles from all my written concept notes so far if I can't commit to full chapters.

The marbled slabs were heavy against his hands as he pushed at them. A ghostly light began filling the lettered scales of the twin dragons that were on the door. The disturbed dust shook from the ceiling, spilling down onto the shaking temple floor. The wind seeped past Link as he stepped forward with the open gate. A long, open-walled hall led to an altar stretched before him. His chest heaving, Link worked to gather his breath. A sharp sting came through the limb given to him by the stranger that named himself “Rauru.” Link winced, holding at the limb as light threads of red smoke seemed to bleed from it. A green gleam, like the one from the dragon-marked door, brightened the arm. “Ah, good. I see you have managed to open the door.” Rauru’s projected spirit now stood before Link. “You haven’t fully recovered yet,” He nodded to Link, who gazed again at the dark smoking limb and the wisps that trailed into nothing. “but that is to be expected–you were almost beyond saving…”

A light wind pulled through the open temple space. “Though our time together has been brief, I am so happy that we finally met…” Link watched as Rauru turned ahead, looking into the distant, open sky. “You are exactly as Zelda said. I’ve done everything I can for her.” His head lowered in a respected nod. “Now it is up to you.”

“Wait, Rauru.” Link spoke up, his voice calm.

“Link?”

The blond Hylian looked from the glowing arm, which he grasped it with his own wrist before looking up to him, to Rauru; “Come with me.”

Rauru let his mouth come open, letting his eyes become wide. He closed his ghostly fist, unable to feel his missing arm and his great ears tucked low.

“You would ask me to join you?” Rauru could almost taste the bitterness on his own tongue. “Me? A mere spirit of what he once was? One who failed his assigned duty?”

Link gave a slight start at that before nodding firmly, “I don’t know your story or things you’ve been through, but,” His voice trailed. “I have once failed too…”

It was now Rauru's turn for a taken pause, making him stare at Link and further see the burdened look that showed in the young Hylian’s eyes. Link then lifted his head higher to now fully meet Rauru’s gaze.

“Together, maybe we can find those answers,” Link now looked over his shoulder at the collapsed temple bridge.

Rauru sighed, but he smiled, despite believing he'd been ready to pass on and grant his soul rest. What was some weeks more, given he'd already survived the long centuries? Imprisoned in that endless abyss of darkness. To see what Hyrule had become in the present day?

“Alright, Link,” Rauru nodded to him. “I will be with you for your journey.”

Link gave a loud cheer, his fist thumping at the air and Rauru could not help but laugh at Link's child-like joy. The Hylian took off to the spirit's surprise, running the length of the broken temple path. Rauru then flew behind him, following and ascending alongside Link when he warped through to the higher levitating platform.

Floating just above the small stone altar was a small shimmering mass of light. Link slowed before it, hesitating as he approached it. Rauru floated beside the hero, curiosity and pause mingling as he, too, stared at the source of power. What resonated inside seemed familiar somehow, but before he could speak this to Link, a careful chime made Rauru glance to the Hylian's back.

“Link, your sword...” Rauru remarked quietly.

Lifting his arm to his shoulder, Link let his fingers wrap around the decayed Master Sword's grip. The tattered cloth knot that tied it to his back slipped loose with ease as he bought it forward. A blue light pulsed in ringing rhythm when held before the altar. Rauru let his ears quirk in wonder at the heard whisper of a woman's voice.

“What should I do?” Link spoke more to the sword than to Rauru, staring at the wounded blade. The weapon gave another gleam of light at Link's question. “Alright. I trust you.”

Rauru watched the scene unfold in silence. Link raised the sword up, letting it sink and be steeped in the glowing, golden light. The energy seemed to grasp and gently touch at Link's own wrist before releasing him. He, too, let go of the Master Sword, watching as it hovered in the air while contained in the golden light.

The energy swelled and blazed, glowing around the broken sword. Zelda's reflected golden-made image had now come to stand across the altar from Link. It were as if she were somehow there and equally elsewhere in the world. Her hands raised to catch the broken Master Sword. Zelda looked curiously at the blade, with her hand around its grip. She closed her eyes, as if in prayer before turning away from Link's own gaze. And in a mere blink, with the bell of the temple sounding into the air, the light closed and Zelda and the Master Sword were both gone...

The temple grounds and even the skies themselves had begun to shake. Link staggered but kept his footing as he hurried to the platform edge. The long body of a bright dragon lifted through the dense clouds, pushing the whole of them back with its ascension higher into the skies of Hyrule. Link pushed his palms over his pointed ears at the dragon’s roar shook the empty world around it. It was as if someone was screaming his name. The shout rattled to the very insides of his bones. Even Rauru had vanished at the noise of painful call. Only when the silence settled did the Source of the Right Arm appear once more.

A warm wind flowed from the inside of the temple, careful in the way Link thought it seemed to push at his very back. Urged forward, Link peered past the temple edge, seeing Hyrule Field expand out far below. He gave a calm breath, running a small pace back before he sprinted to the platform's rim. Rauru swooped in front of him, his arms open as though he could interact with the beings of the physical world.

“WHAT are you doing?!”

“I...” Link gave a shy grin, running his clawed hand through the back of his long hair. “I was going to jump off the platform?”

“TO YOUR DEATH,” Rauru bought his palm over his eyes. “Link, please. You still have much to recover from, and as I clearly need remind you,” He looked over the stone's edge, able to see a large pond down below. “Solid water is greater in density than the bones of a Hylian when the surface is slammed into at high speeds. Even when those bones belong to a Hero.”

“How did you know--”

“As I said when we met; I heard a great deal about you from Zelda,” Rauru now smiled, seeing that Link's face had become pink. “It is not the likes of I that that girl gained her food palette from.” Rauru gave his own grimace, his shoulders shuddering. “Frogs... That is a tale I will share for another time.” He then pointed behind Link, (who seemed to be laughing behind his fingers) toward the platform floor. “This should make your descent easier, despite the fabric's age.”

Link turned to where Rauru acknowledge. Seeing that tied to a small dragon statue on the altar, with its ribbon strands fluttering in the wind, was an abandoned paraglider. Searching the green pocket in the sleeve of his tunic, Link withdrew the sharp blade horn he had picked up from the pieces of lone Construct guard who had protected the temple.

“Give me a moment?”

Link had already cut the frame of the paraglider loose, grasping the frame of it in hand as he readied to dive smoothly from the temple. He then hesitated, seeing how Rauru looked on at the silent Temple of Time. The quiet hum of Rauru's soul was the only noise with the two of them standing in the marbled building's shadow that cast onto them from the early morning light.

“Let us be off.” Rauru said, his smile sad but assuring.

“We can linger a bit longer if--” Link began to say, but Rauru shook his head to him.

“I am grateful, Link,” Rauru motioned with his transparent arm at a sweep to Link's shoulder, unable to truly reach out and touch him. “but even in my time? Hyrule's lands were, by no means, small. When one spends his years in darkness, silence and loneliness?” His face became grim before he managed another fatherly smile at the sight of Link's own worried gaze. “The light of day and familiar faces in treasured company is good for one's soul. Even the soul of a dead man.”

Rauru faded from sight and Link watched as his arm glowed before becoming dark once more. He hopped from the temple, holding onto the frame of the paraglider. The sharp winds flowed around him, catching in his sleeve to float lopsidedly on their current. Closer to the unobscured grounds, Link then opened the paraglider to safely sail the rest of the way.

“I know I have lots of questions for you and a duty to now find Zelda and the Master Sword,” Link called to Rauru, who now reappeared to join him on the flight.

Rauru nodded, “I will answer them in due time over the course of our journey. You have my word.”

“I heard her voice! Zelda's,” Link clarified at Rauru's look of wonder. “She called out, 'Link... You must find me.' I have to know who that corpse was beneath the castle. I have to check in with the people of Hyrule--and with my friends most of all. I hope everyone is alright.”

Rauru's great ears gave a slight twitch and his brow came closer together. “Where do I even begin with all of this...”

Link's feet had touched to the ground, splashing into the water and sending pebbles skittering under his sandals that he clearly had not heard Rauru's own mumble.

“Rauru?” Link folded the frame of the paraglider neatly and he placed it into the pocket sleeve of his tunic. (It was almost as if the available space inside it was near endless!) He looked to the tall spirit, who had his fingers against his own chin, appearing deep in thought.

“It's nothing, Link,” Rauru said, now following along at Link's side. “Perhaps we should explore central Hyrule Field? That great tower has piqued my interest...”

#Legend of Zelda #Tears of the Kingdom #TotK Fic #TotK Rauru #Link (Hero of the Wild)#Oraclequill's Writing

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samsaraandbeyond · 1 year ago

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OC Introductions: Miscellaneous Characters (12)

Not all characters are created...as detailed as the others.

Side characters that might lack what the more focused characters have will go here!

art drawn by Teh-Ray unless otherwise specified lol

Gelatun

The giant rat that makes all- yeah.

Gelatun, my lame wordplay of "glutton", is a giant rat that carries around a sack that is essentially a mini-dimension. Able to create portals and having the ability to create rat minions, he would take whatever he wants and gouge himself on the goods afterwards.

Art drawn by Domskuul

His minions look like him, but small.

Gould

Art drawn by Domskuul

My very own mimic! Based off Dom's mimic character...

Dominus Skuul

A race that can shapeshift into treasure to catch people off-guard! Gould hides himself in out of the way places to ambush and steal off adventurers. He keeps his valuables in a pocket dimension inside of his body that can be accessed through the mouth, his chest, and a third place he doesn't like to mention.

Saizo and Aurora

I was going to do a run of Pokemon Legends: Arceus until I lost interest in favor of Scarlet's release. The two starters I kept debating on choosing? Samurott and Typhlosion. Samu is simply cool and Typhlosion had that cool spirit soul flame thing going on.

And then I never did the run. Good job, me.

Saizo is a hot-headed not-a-samurai-actually who simply wants to get into fights while Aurora is his partner in crime that enjoys enabling him to do so for her own entertainment. They're both air-headed goofs that simply like being in situations.

D-Jragon

Art by me, drawn 11/10/2023

ANOTHER music based character?

So, on October 10th, 2023, I sent this message to a friend of mine.

"I thought of a random OC concept guy named D-Jragon who comes from a futuristic dimension where everyone is a lot fucking bigger than average he hosts concerts where he plays live but he's so kaiju sized he has to be a good distance away he has flame breath but his flames look like equalizer beats"

And yeah I thought it was cool.

On November 7th, 2023, a tweet from a scalie posting account got onto my timeline featuring this character.

Evil Dragon (Teen Titans GO)

Now, I have many designs on this blog. Some of which are borderline bootlegs of other characters.

But I swear to you that I have never seen this character before in my life and that idea was so mine that I'm still angry about it. I was so mad that it caused me to draw what I wanted even though it was way too ambitious for someone at my art level.

And I guess I did alright making it.

He has no wings but rather levitating machines emitting equalizer waves that give off the illusion of them.

The Wanderer

I booted up Soul Calibur 6 and made this guy.

Just a humble lizardman that ventures around the land, selling goods he acquires on his journey that are stashed in his pocket dimensional bag. He defends himself valiantly with his trusty polearm.

Doesn't talk much but he's a bit fruity.

Celiant and Crayert

What a bunch a looney toons.

Celiant and Crayert are cartoony lads that have all the abilities you'd expect from one; from fourth wall breaks, abuse of physics, reality warping, and unexplained hammerspace. In their debut episodes, Celiant was the friendly, crafty, and ambitious one, while Crayert was the soft-spoken, bit dimwitted, and quick-tempered one.

Celiant was created by a no-name animation company hoping to bank off the success of Demonte's paintings. Celi was made without Demonte's consent, though Demonte never attempted to halt the cartoon's production when he became aware of it. Crayert was created after Geyton saw the cartoon on TV, noticed the resemblance to Demonte, traveled to the studio where the show was being produced, and held everyone in the building hostage until they produced an episode where a character based off his likeness was included. Although Crayert could've been removed after the episode aired, they were afraid Geyton might come back for revenge, so he became the show's deuteragonist instead.

All was fine and dandy, until new episodes had begun airing on the network that the studio nor the producers had a hand in creating. It was as if Celiant and Crayert were truly having adventures in another land...

Azis and Ashikaga

That isn't Jubei Blazblue I swear.

A pair of royals in a far off kingdom. Azis, the rapidly-promoted-to-second-in-command and quick-tempered demon cat with an ego, and the well-read and knowledge hungry Ashikaga, the sudden heir to the throne.

Azis was technically created by someone else's personal interpretation of Zhel, while Ashikaga was a character of theirs that they gave to me, which resulted in my personal interpretation of him.

Azis and Zhel aren't related; think of it as Azis being created in Zhel's image instead. They wouldn't want that anyway, they already hate each other enough thinking they're superior to the other in every way.

Mal (Noxious) and Ellis (Mephit)

SKONKS

Noxious and his Mutant Form

Mal was a former war vet turned mercenary that would work under Hentsworth. His reputation of surviving the worst of missions and frequently being the remaining one alive in his squad earned him quite the reputation. It took a genetic weapon delivery gone wrong (as Hentsworth purposely left out details about rival factions that wanted it) to finally put Mal and his current crew to the grave.

Or at least, Mal would've died if he didn't inject himself with what he was transporting as a last result. Now a super soldier hunted down by his former employer and other companies wanting his altered DNA, he couldn't ask for a more exciting life.

Ellis' Casual and Karate Outfit

Ellis was a troubled teen who turned to bullying and destructive habits to sate himself. As an adult, he landed a job as a bodyguard, abusing his position for more benefits. It wasn't until the day a former victim of his showed up, one he recognized from his teen years, armed with a knife and intent on getting revenge that he realized just how his actions had affected people.

Wanting to set himself straight, he turned to anger management, self-defense classes, and therapy. He would eventually become a master of martial arts, helping other troubled individuals find inner peace.

Sonis

A rowdy troublemaker with a history of impulsive behaviors. He ran into Ellis during a walk home, who demanded he fork over anything of value. Sonis refused and in return was beaten senseless. The black eye and various bruises were the subject of mockery by his fellow classmates, who declared it was deserved.

He would realize Ellis was a regular around the neighborhood. Every walk home was made with uncertainty in his safety as Ellis seemed to appear wherever he pleased. The routine was established whenever they crossed paths; hand over something good or get another black eye.

This caused Sonis to develop a grudge that would not go away with time. After graduating, he began taking self-defense classes so he could enact his revenge. Using what he was taught, he began roaming the streets to pick fights with the local thugs in reckless attempts to improve his abilities; something that didn't always end in his favor and somehow didn't end with him losing his life. Once he believed he was ready to put Ellis in his place, he tracked the skunk down to the local dojo.

In the center of the dojo was his target, performing various katas. Sonis approached him and demanded a fight, boasting about how strong he's become as a result of his training.

Ellis could not recall who Sonis was at all.

This made the badger furious enough to attack in a fit of rage. Sonis couldn't land a blow on the skunk before being quickly subdued with relative ease. With tears in his eyes, Sonis slung every insult he could think of as he laid pinned to the floor.

Ellis was overcome with guilt. This was clearly someone, one of many really, whose life he made miserable. Helping the badger up, he offered to make amends by teaching Sonis the various techniques he had learned. Sonis, too emotional to comprehend this change of heart, angrily accepted, only if to use what he'd learn to give Ellis the beating he rightfully deserved one day.

As time went on, the two developed a mutual respect for each other. When he had a cool head, Sonis' fighting skills were almost on par with Ellis. The master and student dynamic had quickly transformed into one of a master and fellow master. Their skills improved with every spar and they soon became the dojo's defining prodigies.

Sonis became...slightly less of a troublemaker due to his experiences. Slightly.

#oc #samsara #nomura #unique oc

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fromcenotaphy · 4 years ago

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Can I ask about Cassie?

yepp hbo cassie [moves on from missouri and makes a name for herself chasing story after story across the continental us] [flask of holy water tucked into the bottom of her purse] [tarnished rosary beads wound around her wrist like jewelry] [still thinks about dean sometimes, when she notices her breath puffing in cold air or runs across another exorcism in the latin books she collects like talismans] [interviews victor henriksen over drinks in chicago, one night while she’s running down a lead on a story that turns out to be the monster he’s hunting] [meets with shamans and mystics and soothsayers and healers and anyone who has any experience sending evil back to the pit it crawled out of] [damned if she’s ever going to be at the mercy of something invisible ever again] [known in journalist circles as the reporter who broke the groundwater contamination story that finally sank roman industries] [meticulously organized folder of notes on her laptop] [constantly poring over news stories about unexplained phenomena or miraculous rescues] [looks for sam and dean between the lines, wonders if their handiwork runs in an invisible current under the typed print of the story] [gets attacked by crowley when he’s on his season 8 warpath and hits him with a zoroastrian exorcism so heavy it knocks him into next week, literally] [marries a man with laughing eyes and warm grin, knows he’s the one when she tells him ghosts are real and he doesn’t flinch] [reads poetry to their children at bedtime while her husband fixes the salt lines on the windowsills] [digs up dirt on religious cults and white supremacist cells and emails it to a hacker victor put her in touch with] [watches the scandals blitz across the evening news months later and smirks into her tea] [murmuring the words of a warding chant like a lullaby as she rocks her daughter to sleep] [looks across a crowded bar one night and catches sight of someone who looks exactly like her: a doppelganger with close-cropped hair and a tired smile and three knives sticking out of the top of her boot] [buys her alternate self a drink and hears about the shattered, apocalyptic world where dean winchester never existed]

#spn #hbo spn #cassie robinson #hbo cassie #okay listen LISTEN #reporter cassie meeting apocalypse world hunter!cassie #is a concept that makes me LEVITATE INTO THE AIR #ask box #cenotaphy posts

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cruelfeline · 3 years ago

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Please consider, a concept:

It's time for a holiday visit to Mystacor, and everyone's invited! Yes... even Hordak. Mainly because no one knew how to get Entrapta to come without him.

It's a bit awkward, to be sure, but not a huge problem. The Princesses have found that, even when present, Hordak tends to keep to himself and interacts only with Entrapta. Perhaps, occasionally, with Adora. So while Mystacor isn't necessarily happy to have him, they're tolerant. And so the holiday get-together appears to proceed without too much upset.

Until the sweaters come out.

Meaning: until Castaspella decides that it's time to bring out the many sweaters that she's spent the last year-post-Prime knitting for everyone.

Glimmer gets a sweater. Bow gets a sweater. Adora, Catra, Scorpia, Frosta, Perfuma, and Entrapta get sweaters. Spinetossa get a matching pair of sweaters. Melog gets a sweater. Swift Wind, to his absolute delight, gets a sweater (which almost makes up for his still-lacking seat in Bright Moon).

"Hordak!"

Entrapta all but bounces up to him, clad in fluffy violet.

"Aren't you going to wear yours?"

No. He is not. Because he does not have one.

"Huh... that's weird. You've been so quiet all day, she must have missed you!"

Yes, that must be it. Surely, Castaspella wouldn't have left Hordak out. Not while conspicuously giving everyone else including an actual horse a cozy, comfy sweater.

No.

Couldn't be.

She was a grown woman and a diplomatic representative of Mystacor, if nothing else.

Surely she wouldn't indulge in outright pettiness, not on this holiday centered around generosity and good faith.

not after Hordak had worked himself ragged these last few months, seeing to floodgates in Salineas, and magic weed control in Plumeria, and stabilization of Mystacor's magical levitation fields, and...

Right?

Right!

Right.

"'Scuse me! I think you forgot someone!"

Entrapta is nothing if not swift, and she's caught Castaspella before Hordak can assure her that the situation was fine. Somewhat unfortunate, perhaps, because Mystacor is naturally chilly this time of year, but it's ultimately survivable. He's fine. It's all fine.

"Oh! Well, I... I didn't... that is I..."

Well. Perhaps he can concede to being just a tinge pleased at seeing the woman squirm and stammer under Entrapta's over-bright smile.

He is not the only one; while everyone else seems set on pointedly ignoring the unfolding interaction, Catra smirks at them from across the courtyard. Her sweater features a tiny kitten haphazardly hanging from a tree branch, and she isn't nearly as amused by it as Adora is.

Hordak assumes that the two of them will be trading barbs about this absurdity over the next few days...

"Ah, of course! Silly me... just a moment..."

Hm... what's this?

Castaspella suddenly disappears in a ripple of air, reappearing a moment later with... well. It's definitely a sweater.

...he thinks.

It's certainly not as intricate as the others. It doesn't have any lovely embroidery, or meaningful symbols, or designs, or... well, anything. Truth be told, it looks less like an intended sweater and more like something someone might make if they had a whole bunch of old black yarn they needed to get rid of.

"Huh. It's..."

"Yes! Well! I... ah... wasn't sure what he might like! What you," she glanced somewhat frantically at Hordak, "might like, so I... ah-ha..."

Entrapta's smile gets even brighter.

"Oh, of course; you just didn't have his measurements and preferences! Makes perfect sense. I mean, it's not like you'd make something for everyone else - including me! - and intentionally leave Hordak out."

Where I could see.

"No... no, of course not! Everyone is welcome. Mhmm!"

With a smile that even Hordak can tell is forced, Castaspella presents him with the... article of clothing. And he, ever mindful of his still-tenuous position, and ever dignified, takes it.

With the intent, of course, of stowing it away in their transport as soon as possible. And then giving it to Imp; the little spy would absolutely love tearing it to shre-

Oh.

It was... soft.

He runs the material through his fingers.

Very soft.

He has some expertly-tailored garments at home - certainly better to look at than this - but he cannot recall anything feeling quite so...

Before he can truly think better of it, he's pulled the thing over his head and-

Oh.

Oh, by the blissfully vanquished light, it is delightful. Impossibly soft. Wonderfully warm.

It doesn't fit him properly at all: sagging here, too tight there. Too big in the collar. Not even close to his style.

But the feel of it! The sheer comfort! The warmth!

Whatever annoyance he's been feeling is forgotten. So have any plans to indulge Imp's love of ripping things apart.

He doesn't hear Catra's guffaw from his far left. Or notice Castaspella's mouth drop open in shock. He's barely even aware of Entrapta squealing, her eyes sparkling with glee.

Hordak is too consumed by this objectively ugly sweater's preternatural comfiness.

Eventually, he gathers himself and turns to Castaspella.

"This garment is exquisite. The material, the craftsmanship; both are highly sound."

"I- it- It's not... I didn't-"

Entrapta clutches at his arm with the sort of shriek born only of unbridled joy.

"You like it!"

Hordak smiles down at her. Somewhere over to the side, he's dimly aware of Adora frantically smacking a choking Catra on the back.

"Yes."

He nods at Castaspella again. She's still standing there, mouth open, face now gone a funny reddish color.

"Thank you."

"You're... you're welcome."

~~~

A few weeks later, a package arrives at the Crypto Castle, and Entrapta claps in delight as Hordak removes three new sweaters from amidst its wrappings. Black with red accents. A deep, rich blue. And a dusky violet to match Entrapta's.

All so amazingly warm against Dryl's winter chill.

Accompanying them is a letter thanking Entrapta profusely for providing such accurate measurements - and expressing hope that Hordak enjoys these gifts even more than the last.

He does. They fit perfectly, and Entrapta notes that he looks absolutely stunning in them - for the scientific record, of course.

The first sweater ends up going to Imp after all, though not to perish in a flurry of delighted ripping and tearing. Rather, the moment he touches the offered bundle, his face lights up, and Imp spirits it away to a place of true honor: his little bed.

Hordak nods in quiet approval.

He'll have to ensure that Castaspella receives Imp's measurements before the next holiday.

#Yes I know this is deeply stupid but it's also very funny to me and thus y'all have to suffer through it #Shh I don't care that it makes no sense it made me laugh #The idea of Hordak loving an ugly sweater because it's stupidly warm and comfy is somehow the height of comedy to me #Hordak #pc:ac #entrapdak

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years ago

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do you think the jedi prohibit 'frivolous uses of the force'?? because i see it a lot in fic but i swear i distinctly remember obi-wan using the force to pull a literal chair over lmfao

Yoooo, I've been wanting to write a post about that for like a week xD Okay, so here's the thing: I started answering this one, confident that I knew where the use of the word 'frivolous' came from - but it turned out that I was wrong, so I'm actually a bit baffled about its origin. But here goes:

(@cacodaemonia I know you were interested in this topic?)

No, I don't think the Jedi prohibit that. I don't think the Jedi even have 'frivolous' use of the Force as a concept. The idea that they prohibit it, or at least frown upon it, is very likely rooted in the AotC scene of Anakin levitating a piece of fruit.

Wookieepedia cites that scene and that scene only on the topic of frivolousness in the page on Telekinesis.

But the word frivolous isn't used in that scene! Who came up with it? Obi-Wan being grumpy about Anakin levitating the fruit could mean just about anything. Maybe Jedi frown upon showing off in front of a diplomat you're meant to be protecting in a professional way. Maybe Obi-Wan and only Obi-Wan disapproves of Anakin levitating stuff because he kept doing it around the apartment as a kid, just to be a little shit. Maybe Jedi frown upon playing with your food with the Force, which wouldn't necessarily be linked with it being 'frivolous' but just with 'don't be gross.'

Now I thought it came from the novelization using that specific word, but it doesn't! The novelization is based on the original script as opposed to the dialogue in the movie (it actually came out before the movie, so that's why) and the scene is longer in them both and seems to confirm what I said about how it could mean a lot of other things (because he isn't just levitating it originally, he's playing with it):

(novelization)

PADME: You did that? [ANAKIN looks up - wide-eyed innocence.] ANAKIN: What? [PADME scowls at him. PADME jabs at the fruit - ANAKIN subtly moves his hand and it lifts up from the plate and hovers in front of her.] PADME: That! Now stop it! [PADME laughs. ANAKIN laughs. She reaches out for the fruit - it loops.] PADME (continuing): Anakin!! [ANAKIN moves his fingers. The fruit flies into his hand.] ANAKIN: I'm not really supposed to do that... for fun, I mean. If Master Obi-Wan were here, he'd be very grumpy. [ANAKIN is pleased. He cuts the fruint (sic) into several pieces and sends one back to PADME. She bites it out of the air and laughs.]

(script)

Even taking Anakin at face value, this does not say there is an Order-wide ban on 'frivolous' uses of the Force. Again, maybe Force-assisted food shenanigans are frowned upon. Maybe Anakin isn't supposed to mess with people with the Force for fun. Maybe it's just Anakin assuming, as he sometimes does.

I think 'frivolous' might come from one of the EU books - it's not from No Prisoners (the Karen Travis TCW book) though, so I have no idea who might have used it in that context first??

Anyway, the issue in fic is that 'frivolous' is often confused with 'casual.' Hence the Obi-Wan thing imo.

One, 'frivolous' is judgy - it gives it a sense of sin, something that the Jedi... don't seem to have that much of a concept of? Dressing 'immodestly' isn't condemned, for example. I don't see the Order as a whole (there are sticks in the mud everywhere) having a thing against a concept as vague as 'frivolousness.' I mean... Yoda? His whole idea of fun is to mess with people and cackle, and his teaching methods include massive trolling, teasing the grown-up Masters with his gaggle of kiddos and whatnot. You cannot tell me Yoda never tugged on somebody's cloak to make them trip.

Two, frivolous and casual aren't the same thing. Obi-Wan pulling the chair falls into the casual use category imo - and yes, we do see him and others do this kind of casual stuff many times! (Off the top of my head: Obi-Wan grabs the map-ball thingy from the map-reader in AotC - in front of younglings, so there's no fear of a bad example being set - Yoda calls his stick to his hand in AotC, Obi-Wan pulls a chair in TCW s2, Jedi call their lightsabers to them all the time - though it's usually in combat settings, so it doesn't necessarily count, Obi-Wan closes a door in AotC - I think Ewan was the one who thought it'd be neat to do it? Idk...)

And I don't agree that "it goes to show their hypocrisy" or whatever. What, because we assume that's what Anakin meant in the AotC scene and because we assume it's 100% an Order-wide thing, and we assume that the Jedi would view using the Force for daily tasks as frivolous, then every single instance of Jedi using the Force for simple every day stuff is hypocritical?! Even though floating freaking fruit around somebody's head and pulling up a chair are absolutely not the same thing? The latter is something you would do no matter whether you use the Force or not - pulling a chair is a normal thing to do. Playing with fruit around someone is a rude thing to do. There's a difference whether or not 'frivolous' stuff is frowned upon.

And also, using the Force is a natural thing. The Jedi do it like they breathe - it's all around them and they're aware of it constantly, and it's not always something they can turn on or off. It's natural that they would use it for daily stuff, and the level of respect that comes attached with using it would necessarily vary from one Jedi to the other. Just look at Quinlan. What, jumping out of a gunship to make an entrance isn't frivolous? Well, Quinlan is a Master, so his views on it are just as valid - just as Jedi - as anybody else's. (Plus Obi-Wan - the Council Member - gives him grief for being late, not for just for being ridiculous, so again - rudeness.)

I can see some Masters being against using the Force with carelessness - and yeah, I can also see some Masters being against using it in a 'fun' way - because you have to be careful with that stuff, but it probably would generate debate. There wouldn't be a definite consensus on what is too much and what isn't.

If "the Jedi all frown upon casually using the Force" is something that Lucas intended to convey in the movie, please correct me and give me a source.

Though it is also entirely possible that Obi-Wan was meant to be a bit hypocritical about it - because he and Anakin have their tensions, and as somewhat of a parental figure it's only natural that he would scold Anakin for stuff that isn't that big of deal, or that he himself has done, because that's what every person who's ever been in charge of a younger person has done at some point. So sure, maybe Obi-Wan scolded Anakin for being too casual with the Force? But I still don't see it as a Big Rule that is in the Jedi Code That Must Not Be Violated and that get you Shamed and Shunned if you dare to have fun with the Force.

(Honestly, it reminds me of 'your Lightsaber is your Life' thing, and Ahsoka and Anakin both separately whining that their Master was going to kill them for losing/breaking theirs. There's a certain level or respect and care expected, the Masters (or... only Obi-Wan and Anakin, lol) nag a bit, aren't always careful enough themselves, the kids make a big deal out of it in front of other people, but ultimately there are zero repercussion whatsoever for actually failing to follow the Master's nagging. Like, Jocasta tells Ahsoka Anakin would totally understand, and it's Ahsoka who insists he wouldn't and makes it into a big thing.)

Again, having Masters tell their students to be respectful of the Force and not to treat it like a joke? Sure. Showing off with the Force in a rude manner being called 'frivolous,' and it being a bad thing? I could see it. Having Masters get pissy about pulling chairs, closing doors or whatever - about doing things you can do with your hands with the Force instead? Maybe, but it wouldn't be an Order-wide thing.

One thing's for certain, we never see a Master directly scolding a student for using the Force casually in the Prequels, the OT or TCW, much less calling it 'frivolous.'

So yeah, gimme Jedi levitating stuff to clean up under the furniture xD

#anonymous #ask #fanon vs canon #on frivolous uses of the Force #long post #meta #my meta #sw talk #intergalactic therapists #jedi order #jedi culture #anakin skywalker #attack of the clones

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tinyhistory · 4 years ago

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Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)

Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.

I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.

So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:

And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing

Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.

My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.

A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.

Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.

Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are

Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.

Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.

Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom

Summary: Let’s pretend.

Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered

Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.

Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.

Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.

Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.

The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger

Summary: None

Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.

Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity

Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.

Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.

Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.

Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.

Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.

Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.

Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.

On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.

Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.

Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent

Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.

Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast

Summary: None.

Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.

Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic

Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.

Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.

Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter

Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.

Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.

The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.

Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.

Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.

The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi

Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.

Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow

Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.

Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.

Turn by Saras_Girl

Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.

Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.

Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.

Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime

Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.

The Way Down (T) by lettered

Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”

Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.

When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal

Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.

Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!

The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose

Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.

Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.

Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon

Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.

#draco/harry fanfic #drarry #drarry fic recs #drarry fic #answered asks

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nerdygaymormon · 3 years ago

Text

Luke 10:25-37 - The Good Samaritan

A lawyer states that the law says he is to love God and to love his neighbor as himself. Then he asks Jesus, “Who is my neighbor.” Jesus responded by telling a story which illustrates the answer.

A traveler (who is understood to be Jewish) is stripped of his clothes, beaten, and left half-dead alongside the road. A Jewish priest comes by, and then a Levite, an even higher ranking religious official, comes along, but both avoid the man. Then a Samaritan happens along. Although Samaritans and Jews despised each other, the Samaritan helps the injured man. The conclusion is the person who showed mercy to his fellow man is the one who acted as his neighbor.

————————————————————

Samaritans were considered unclean and apostate, and they were marginalized and despised as a result. Yet Jesus made the Samaritan the hero of the story.

It seems clear to me that the Samaritan is the hero because Jesus wanted to leave us with no excuse for limiting which neighbors are worthy of our love. Jesus taught that who is our neighbor isn't about geography or who is in our tribe, it's a moral concept. We have a responsibility to preserve people's dignity and integrity. We aren't to walk on by while our neighbor bleeds. The priest and the Levite get no credit for their religious piety if they ignore someone in need.

The parable of the Good Samaritan makes it clear that loving your neighbor is more important than other religious responsibilities. If the good religious people aren’t going to work for mercy and justice, God will find others who will.

————————————————————

It seems like this isn’t the first time the Samaritan has helped an injured person he finds laying on the edge of the road.

The Samaritan had cloth to bind up the wounds, he was carrying oil and wine to cleanse the wound. The Samaritan knows an inn that will accept the injured person and nurse him to health. Because he’s brought injured people to the inn before, the inn keeper is willing to heal the man, knowing he’ll get paid, because he’s been paid in the past.

————————————————————

Too often we tell this story as if it’s about the Jews. Let’s update it to our times and religion. If the parable was given today what groups would stand in for the Samaritan and how should we treat them?

There was a young Black Mormon college student in Salt Lake City out for the night. Despite it being a rougher part of town, he decided to walk a couple blocks from the train rather than take a Lyft or Uber. He was jumped and they took his Nike Air Jordans & bomber jacket. They left him on the side of the road, injured.

Luckily a Bishop came by, but he was late for a youth temple trip. He shook his head and said to himself with a little disgust, “Look at that, would you. If he’d been making good choices this wouldn’t have happened,” and he hurried on.

Next came a Stake President driving past in his SUV with a MAGA sticker on the back. He saw the man in the gutter and thought to himself, “This guy is probably sleeping it off, besides this is a bad part of town, anything could happen here. If I stop to pick up this one, what about the next one on the next corner? Where does it end?”

Next comes a creaky van with bumper stickers about abortion rights, legalize weed, and ‘Love is Love’ on a rainbow flag. It’s driven by a middle-aged guy with a ponytail and ear gauges. The deep lines on his face indicate he’s had a rough life.

When he sees the man in the gutter, he pulls over and gets out. After trying to revive the unconscious victim, he lifts him into the van. He drives several miles to an emergency treatment center. The person at the desk asks if he’s related to the injured man. “No.” She asks if he knows the man’s insurance information? “I don’t know. I found him in the street.” “We need insurance in order to treat him.”

The man loses his patience and yells at the person behind the desk. He keeps up his yelling and the doctor comes out to see what’s going on. They call an administrator on the phone and the man grabs it and starts yelling at the person on the other end. They agree to do what they can if he’ll quiet down and go away.

The guitarist goes out to his van, comes back with his electric guitar and a pack of smokes. He needs to get to his gig, but he takes the watch off his tattooed wrist and sets it on the counter next to his van keys as collateral, and promises he’ll come back Sunday night when his gig is finished and he’ll pay what he can. Then he walks off down the street, smoking a cigarette with his guitar on his shoulder.

Which of these three was a neighbor to the man who’d been jumped?

————————————————————

Here’s another take on the story of the Good Samaritan. The victim are LGBTQ+ members of this church.

As much as members want to think of themselves as the Good Samaritan, these fellow congregants likely contributed to the violence done to the victim by voting for Republican candidates who refused to support civil rights for LGBT individuals, speaking at school board meetings against letting a trans student compete in athletics, in Sunday School teaching that queer people can’t make it to the highest levels of heaven and that being gay is a sin, and referring to religious freedom as the right to discriminate against queer people.

LGBTQ+ members receive many negative messages of shame and exclusion in our theology. It’s damaging. Bigots feel free to speak up about “Evil being taught as good,” and “love the sinner, hate the sin.”

Who is tending to the injured queer member? Who is extending mercy to them, trying to get them to safety? Who is willing to advocate on behalf of LGBT members even if it costs them social standing and callings? The greatest commandments are to love God, and to love God’s children (our neighbor and ourselves).

————————————————————

25 And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? 26 He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou? 27 And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself. 28 And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live. 29 But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour? 30 And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. 31 And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32 And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. 33 But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, 34 And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. 36 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves? 37 And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.

#queer faith #queer scriptures

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

Text

KISMETS (Part 3)

Harry Styles x Preggs Fem!Reader.

Frenmies to lovers to parents, Dadthon!!H

Oral Smut, dirty talk and teasing.

Angst! Angst and fluff!! N' tooth rotting fluff.

Dadrry, bestie!h, boyfriend!h

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST PART 1 PART 2 LETS TALK/ ASK

The morning light cocoons them with softness and they don't care if they're sitting in a pool of blood.

"I love you too, so much." She hiccups pacifying down not wanting to never be to able say them again as Harry runs a hand at her back, limbs still tangled with eachother, whispering sweet things to her while Miss. Dori pulled her placenta out, "Y/N?" He panics when she dulls in his arms head lulling at his shoulder and heartbeat slowing down to feeble line. Gently pulling his face out from the cave of her neck he pats her cheek worriedly, again, at her unconscious state, her head dangling back over his wrist, "Y/N!?" His heart squeezing tight miserably into his ribcages when she doesn't respond to his calls.

Harry and Y/N are back being to besties and enjoying being pregnant together.

Warning: Mentions of blood, pregnancy trauma and natural childbirth hurdles.

Eyes gives it all. Even the hidden treasures get's looted from the mere mistake of someone's gaze just like right now when he's pretending to be confused as ever, "what? Called her myself . . ." He frowns and she sniffs frozen in her position feeling exposed from the vulnerability of being naked infront of him; tries to cover herself criss-crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why'd you d'that?" She hiccups wiping her blushed nose and his pupils bursts wide into realization. Immediately, cradles her face tenderly stroking the apple of her cheeks shaking his head vigorously, "Oh -— no. no. no baby told her to come over to take her leftover stuff if not I better give it to charity."

"O . . okay." She sucks in a breather. Without a word he removes hers arms away in a gesture that you never need to hide from me. Kisses her shoulder blade stroking her wrists and her pulse in circles.

"Don't cry, lil penguin. Why're ye' cryin'?" He asks in his most gentle voice feathering her cheek with the back of his hand, "'m . . . 'm scared." She tries to recoup her cries holding her breath causing her cheeks to puff like a fish.

"Let's get you cleaned warm and nice. Then we'll talk yeah lovie?" He slides her elbows behind his neck holding her strongly to walk them to his bedroom. Gives her a bath full of vanilla bubbles, essential oils, scrubbed her back and would trail kisses up her belly from under water making her giggle and weave her fingers into his own wet curls.

Him loving all three of them's the most adorable thing.

Got her ready for mid-nap with his sweater and boxers putting fur pads atop her ears, aloe fused socks on her feet and turning the heat a bit to sleepy temperature. Tucks a quilt under their chins and snuggles her closer to himself letting herself calm to his heartbeats before she speaks her heart out to him, "wanna talk? What you're scared of babe tell me all of it. Knows that I'll handle." He slips further into bed bringing her thigh around his torso and her head atop his buff chest.

She exhales loudly trying to subside the emotional feeling of crying along with each word that comes out of her mouth. Her bad habbit of grounding everything to the pit of her stomach until it blasts into a massive destruction always gets her into worst scenarios.

"'M worried about alot of things –- actually." She peeks up at him and he's already looking down at her genuinely with relaxed self to let her know that nothing has changes and he's still her bestfriend who'd wait for her till she manages to speak, "about what?" He encourages her petting down her hair.

"Everything like 'like future . . 'n — me being a good mum after all of that 'm uni too. . . the semester would start right after the month of my delivery." She furls her toes to keep her anxiety at bay level cocooning her womb cause she feels the safest with the assurement of her babies being with her, "about my career and what about me dreams? What if I'll never get to chase 'em?" He listens to her diligently boring his gaze to the way her lips mold with each word. Sighs gently rubbing her arms up and down salutating his palm around the side of her neck to tip her face towards him. His lips lingers at her temple murmuring against it, "Together we're gonna do this."

"You're gonna be the kindest and bestest mommy ever Y/N. I belive in ye' and about your dreams. I'll take care that nothing comes in the way to stop ya . . You'll attend UNI same as before 'cause 'm takin' a break to be with our babies till your done with your degree." He declares to her seriously and honestly running his hand all over her spine to assure her in every way possible, locking his ankles with her under the sheets.

"'M a big boy now! A daddy to two babies don't underestimate me miss gremlin!" He grins impishly smushing his cheeks into her side wide spreading his palm atop her tummy warmly with bare fingers, "'kay gotcha!" She giggles cuddling into him with droopy eyes inhaling the same scent she's lathered in from the sweet spot of his neck.

She wakes up in the evening satisfied and happy with the nap marks, sweaty baby hairs, a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth and Harry already awake but still spooning her. He's her pregnancy pillow.

Covers her mouth with his pinky and ring finger when she yawns cutely stretching beneath him slowly blinking. Proper stops with his intense loving gaze still on her and blushes hard when he pecks her dry lips after sleep. Her chest heaves with his kisses and snogs trailing down between the valley of her breasts making her card her fingers through his chocolate curls. Whimpers ever hoarsely raising her hips in air for some friction and to levitate the throb in between her legs asking for him to release the ache away.

He takes the hint scooching closer to her side nudging her knees wide stroking the flesh of her thighs with tickling pinches. She whines fisting sheets with yearning arch of her back, "insatiable lil thing aren't ya?" He gives a toothy grin wetting his lips making her pause in her heave of getting his fingers instead flickering her vision over his candy plush lips.

"Kiss me?" She whispers and how couldn't he when she's looking this soft, warm and full of blush from the nap. He was litreally nutters for not ever pondering over the thought how alluring and attractiveness her satiny features hold, "'course darlin'." He tips her chin towards himself letting her sweet cushiony lips fuse against his's into an ardent kiss shooting her libidos 100 times higher than before making her moan pathetically into his mouth.

Her forearms winding around his shoulders instinctively and exhales through her nose not pulling away from the kiss and squeaks lowly when he bites her lower lip pulling away, "'ve got asthma y'mad mad woman." He gapes down at her dramatically fiddling with the bow of her panties. They skim down to her mound feeling the slickness that has spread all around and the rough trim of hair, "and I've got an extravagant sex drive!" It whisks into a breathy gasp of dense air when he slid his digits in between her slick folds flickering her swollen clitoris and repeating till she's panting for more.

"Sad innit? 'S me fault. I should be the one to help my girl out." He mutters trailing sweet kisses down her swollen belly to her pelvis snapping the elastic with his teeth causing her to jolt under his firm hold. She's too floaty else the statement of him claiming her would have swiped her away into a paradise of never ending imaginations.

"Mhmp. What did ya had fo' lunch lovie'?" He licks her juices off from the inside of her thighs sending intense quivers to her core. His palms smoothes under her thighs to hike them up and over his shoulders nipping at her skin when all she did was responded with a gasp, "d- dunno forgot . ." He perks his brows to his forehead commenting playfully while dipping down to tickle her with his curls.

"Pregnancy made ye' loose your braincells, moppet?" She raises her hand to smack him at head instead tugs his hair when for finally he flattens his tongue thickly against her wet cunt to give a good mind boggling lick sucking her clitoris in the way, "asshole. . ." She moans squirming like leaf under him but he quites her by taking her sensitive nub between his teeth to give a little graze and pull. It makes her pussy lips flutter and her hole leak with so much wetness it sticks to Harry's chin.

"H – ha . . rry. Harry." She tries to grind her hips against his mouth but he tuts brushing his pads around her dripping hole to tease her, "yes baby?" Groans of annoyance fills the room and she shoves her face into the pillow bitting down the snarky insults thrown at the curly head.

"Not gonna give ye' me fingers till you ask fo' it." He smooches wet filthy kisses letting her stickiness coat his lips stirring a ball of fire in her pit, "shut up." She whines nudging him with her knee telling him to do something to relax her.

"Make me." He smirks tilting his head to suck her petal fold creating dirty seductive noises on purpose. She huffs taking the matters into her hands pulling him up towards her by a hard grip onto his hair, "ouch ouch!!" He quips shutting his eyes tight.

"Harry Styles you make me cum or I'm never letting you fuck me ever." She glares him and he gives out a defeated sigh naughtiness still lurking in his moss of irises, "bossy – kay! Sorry! Was kiddin' babe. 'M all here to please ye'." She nods her head curtly shoving him back down and he giggles at her when in an instant from an angry lil penguin she melted into a mush of gooe when Harry thrusted two fingers at once inside her curving them once they were buried snug deep.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She gasps moving her hips along him that he stayed in his place eating her out while his fingers pushed in and out of her tight pussy with squelching noises, "fuckin' tight urghh." He grits rubbing her clit into harsh circles with his other hand, mouth on her cunt and fingers fucking her continuously.

"Want more?" He asks and she bobs her head not even processing what he said almost loosing the idea of her presence feeling too much ecastasy and over the clouds, "here take as much as ye' want baby." He slips another third finger admiring the way her pussy stretches swallowing his fingers, "'m gonna lick your little wet cunt off then clean it with me filthy tongue to make a mess of ye' all over again filling you full with me cock. Sounds good baby?" He knows she's the shy lil bean and his sweet enthusiastic words of vulgarism heats her up enough.

"Gonna come. Harry --" She tips her head down and back in air eyes rolling into her sockets. Harry rubs her outer thighs soothing her thrashing body, "shhh baby relax. You can cum on me fingers." She obliges him softening in his arms and her pussy makes soppy noises gushing with each wave of pleasure throbbing around his digits while he works her out to make her feel as giddy as he could, "That's it baby girl. That's it cum fo' me again?" He prods at the sponge of bump inside her seething through her twitching walls making it impossible for him to pull out and tent his cock against the bed leaving a spot of how turned on he's at the moment.

But, his first-most priority is her. It always was her maybe more than Chessie

"Happy my lil lioness?" He comes back on top of her arms digged on either side of her temple and she tries to squint from one eye pulling him to herself planting a rewarding kiss at his cheek, "how 'bout a pizza from Tommy's place?" He lays ontop of her (like half ontop of her and half on his side; just to share her warmth).

"Can I have an extra topping of olives, pretttyy pleaseee?" She makes a weird funny face to convince him, "but you're allergic to 'em." He frowns sitting up thumb hovering over the contacts popping on the screen. He has everything memorized she's allergic to; it's not much peanuts, olives and clay dough ( she claims that she ate it once when she was possibly 5 and it swelled her flesh up ) not that she's gonna nip at it now but Harry couldn't trust her cravings at all.

"But 'm craving them sooo baddd." She clutches the hem of his tattered shirt pouting but he retorts with the shake of his head intervining their fingers together to kiss her knuckles, "Nope moppet. We don't need another hospital visit at fou' in the morning like last time, do we?" She remembers it. A very angry Chessie at his doorsteps while he helped her walk inside this home post hospital visit.

"I hate this." She huffs folding her arms against her chest, "I know. How about we delay getting y'sick once babies are out?"

"You kidding?" Her mouth slacks turning into a widespread grin at last, "absolutely not. Pizza without olives yeah?" He smacks a kiss against her open mouth loudly before his phones rings at the pizza place.

Harry's the busy bee. From grocery shopping to making the list of all the organic food he needs to line up his pantry with, he took everything's responsibility on himself. Cause mama has a huge duty for wrapping two babies in her womb safe and heated. Even when she tries to bend down to put a plate in dishwasher he skates near her supporting her back and scolding her, "all you've t'do is eat and nap. Dunno fucks count 'cause we fuck alot — chill sweet baby. 'switch onto telly 'm bringing banana milk and cookies." She pouts because she doesn't want to be a burden on him. She wants to suspect any tiredness from his features — the way he's been on his trippy toes for her from eight and half months but how much she tries she couldn't instead he looks way more giggly and joyful than before with never ending dad jokes and teasing bum pats.

They indeed fuck alot. Harry loves that she's always sleepy and clingy — he thinks he's truly, deeply and madly in love with his lil penguin but they're in the middle of train's track whose destination is atlast confession of love but he wants to wait. He can't wait though. He's always been impatient and light from stomach can't sleep at night without sharing a word of his swimming thought with anyone. He shared it with Nialler, it was at three in the morning after Y/N sucked his cock dry with so much admiration for his prick he was bout to cry and blurt out but he didn't. Cuddled with her and oreo practically on his face then ringed his lad startling him up, "why did ya wake me up fo' something we all already know Harold? Do I've to teach ya lessons cause now that would be a shame to your kiddos." He grunted dropping the call leaving Harry baffled and alone to his thoughts again.

"Sweet angel . . " He cooes jarring the door to his room with his foot. She has moved in to his house, from guest room to his room and his heart. Told him she didn't like sleeping alone and gets the most amazing slumber squished up against his chest in his arms. He was ardent that she completes him. He's right. She does. Always had but this time it's till they're getting old and wrinkly.

Lilac walls glow from the telly's illumination and the flicker of light from their open wardrobe. His ears perks at a repulsive groan and his brows dips to tune into the situation, "what are ye' doin', pet?" He asks confused at the sight of Y/N in a funny position with a razor in her hand standing in the middle of their wardrobe trying to duck and see through her huge bump.

"'M tryin' to shave me legs — seems impossible though." She throws her head back to convey her annoyance and Harry chuckles placing the banana milk and the plate of dark chocolate cookies atop the drawer island taking her wrist which's holding onto the razor, "you don't 'ave to it's just a maternity shoot –- no biggie, moppet." She huffs. Their faces at level and intimately close to have a good stare in eachother's eyes.

"No biggie!? it's the first time I'll get to have someone take me pictures, all, personally fo' me." Her smile pouty as she tries not to break her disgruntled facade down.

"How 'bout the times, I was a victim of ye'r endless pictures taking sessions?" He squints down at her. Hands out of instinct fumbling by her sides to feel her warmth on his skin, "you were sooo shittt at that job."

"Kay, kay then, lemme just –- hand this razor, I'll shave ye'r legs pretty girl." Happily she shoves it in his grip while he knees down hiking her leg ontop of his knee. His pink tongue popping out in concentration. She trusts him in this because last time he was the one to shave herdown there. Taking a sip of her banana milk she taps the straw against his lips speaking, "a bestie in need is a bestie indeed." With his eyes on her ankle and his pretty hands which could make her come infinite times right now working so diligently, He gives her a high five taking a sip himself.

She breaks a cookie forwarding it to Harry and he looks up — so being all dramatic she acts shy and blushy turning her gaze away in a swift, "what baby?" He laughs putting her other foot on his knee his grip tight around her ankle.

"Don't stare at me calves like that you creep." He wipes away the crumbs from his lips giggling and making her giggle, "I've literally shaved your cooch days before." She jabs her big-toe against his nipple getting a high pitched squeak from a grown ass man in return.

"I hate you!" She says through the spurt of chuckles and his response in return turned both of them silent, "I know ye' love me." Their cheeks blazed. Eyes twinkling. Hearts doing lil dance dance but nobody from them tries to break the comforting silence knowing they'd word vomit the instant they'd.

They say "I love you." And "love you." in their normal routines without making it a mess of shyness. But the butterflies at that specific moment when the epiphany dawns on the pair that they really are in love with eachother makes their tummies float in void with butterflies.

"All done!" He announces enthusiastically kissing her knee like she's a princess in distress and the words burns at the plush of her lips, "love you."

"You too, lil penguin." He smiles boyishly.

"Oh fuck, I forgot we're gonna have shoot in our pyjamas." She yells in a low hum and he rolls his eyes slapping her ass, "rotten you're."

"Oopsies."

A maternity shoot in their back garden along oreo never seemed this fun when they were gushing about it days prior. Nialler gifted them cute baby pink coloured matching pyjamas with yellow peaches pattern, mommy and daddy embroidered on them. They even matched some fluffy kitten hats too!! A pair of yellow and pink with kitten ears with goggly eyes, big cheshire that of Oreo.

Their close friend Onna was all up for the shoot and nothing's more adorable than Harry's soft hands around Y/N's belly in a protective way, while they sat on the fluffy growing grass and cotton flowers. Her back resting against his taught chest, his legs wrapped on either side of her and oreo almost stretching atop her bump quenching loud belly ache laughs from them.

"Two pictures 'n 'm already tiredd, pff." She gasps shuffling a little to activate her sore bum and Harry pecks her shoulder cutely, "some more 'cause you'll grump later." Onna captures each every second of their tooth rotting interaction.

"Oi. I'll not!!" To avoid a banter Harry taps her chin pointing towards the camera speaking, "last one doll, one to show that we really are pregnant." Onna's laughing at their techniques. Shaking her head with each shot of overloaded sweetness she traps in her camera.

"I. Am. Indeed. Pregnant. Pet." She looks down with wide eyes rubbing her prodding tummy in circles, the top button litreally about to pop and Harry's face adorns with a naughty grin showing his bunny teeth, "Me too!!" He squeals rubbing his moth covered belly the same way she's doing and it sent both girls into fits of laughters.

"Sillllyyyyy." She sing-songs throwing an arm around the nape of his neck to bring him closer and smooch a loving kiss to his cheek, "you're gonna be the best dad." She whispers eyes closing into the diameter of his scent and he rests his lips against her forehead. Onna having a smile of adoration for her friends while she did her job, laying down to capture this one beautifully.

"Yeah?" His voice just audible to them. "Uhmm." She nods fiddling with the collar of his pyjamas and their bubbles pops when oreo tugs at Y/N's top revealing her graceful babies bump.

"You batty creature!!" She tries to grab oreo to smoosh her in her arms but oreo gallops miles away before it could happen.

The whole last night Y/N couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning with whines of complaints to a snoring Harry on her side. When Harry woke up she was already staring him like an owl scaring the poor thing, cause it wasn't a loving one. It was a proper creeping stare with baggy eyes and pouty lips, "can we have 'em out already?" She snuggles into his throat and he massages her head.

"In a week." He grogs out stroking his cheek against her's, "Have ya taken out all the required papers?" He asks her and she nods with a yawn. Today's the enrollment day for Y/N's next semester -- Harry will go to her UNI to talk to the administration instead of her.

"I'll be back in no time, till then try havin' a good rest, want some donughts from that one shop near ye'r UNI?" He thumbs at her baby locks. She shakes her head murmuring into his flimsy sweat shirt, "not feeling like it." Dunno what happened. She was alright after for finally her sickness went away but today she feels like shit because of her Braxton hicks climbing to painful peak.

Kissing her head last time he untangles himself to get ready and she watches him buttoning up his cuffs with his curl dangling over his eyes, he's looking handsome and a bit too out of her league with the crisp white shirt and chequered trousers.

He squats down pecking her lips. Her nostrils filling with cinnamon ocean-y smell soothing the tick of her nerves. Her body reacting to even the air pricking at her skin, "don't miss me too much, lil penguin." He gives her an eskimo kiss knowing she's feeling down and tired today the way she has her face squished into pillow and isn't trying even to cup his cheeks like she does everytime he leaves for something.

He puts her phone on the nightstand tugging her under the sheets, switching off the lamp and slowly exists the room not to disturb her. She doesn't know when he leaves but the pin-drop silence tells it all and she's half conscious half awake with fluttering eyelids.

She turns on her back with a groan to get rid of the dull ache in her pelvis and outer thighs — but then she feels something . . . . something wet between down there and it makes her snap open her eyes blinking blankly at the ceiling. Tries not to think of bad scenarios but it's otherwise.

"Holy cow of jesus." She fists the pillow under her sitting up with much difficulty and to her worst horrors the sheets are sploched badly. She stands up with her spine almost bending in two — staying calm and positive even when a heavy gush of water trickles down her legs soaking the rug. It has nothing attractive in it as they show in movies but rather feels like a dam leaking and a litreal adult peeing in their gowns.

She snatches the phone from nightstand putting a firm arm beneath her belly walking out of room, her maternity floral white gown clinging to her skin. A tinge of shock weaved through her bones but that didn't made her loose her balance. She wants to throw the phone against the wall when the line always beeps busy, "already missin — " his honey of voice bringing tears in her eyes.

"Get your ass back home!! Right fuckin' now!" She yells into speaker trudging forward with carefull steps. He pushes onto breaks hard, panicking into his seat, "What happened!?" He's quick in turning gears speeding back home. Her lips wobbles blue from pain and the unbearable throb between her thighs. Words struck in her throat as she tries to speak gripping the globe of stair railing leaning against it when a hard contraction striked against her spine.

"'M going into labour — " Harry's heart falls into his arse. His vision blurring from the intensity of the moment and he's thanking Gods for being five minute drive away from home. How many times they prepared for this time it all went in vain and now Harry's beating himself for leaving her side at all, "'m comin' home, it's okay baby, it's okay breath." His lips stammers from an invisible fear and fingers twitches around the wheel.

Wanted to shout at him "breath, my ass." Instead She gasps loudly in fright when she feels her cervix dilating to the maximum point and it did the last fireworks for her tears, "no, no, noo!!"

"'M giving birth!!" She shouts kissing her teeth together to keep the pain at the bay hooking a thumb into her panties, scrunching her dress up to press them under her armpits and squatting down with the heels of her palms pressed with so much strength over the last stair case, "what? oh my — 'm calling our midwife." She can feel a head trying to force it's way out from her vagina and it rakes out a sob from her chest.

"Please be gentle with mommy, 'm coming." Harry says and it comes out as a weak whisper while he drives sitting on the edge of the seat and Y/N's ears are ringing with white noise to even pay attention to what he's saying. Her gown drenching with sweat and she screamed at the top of her lungs pushing with her all might scaring a sleepy oreo in her bassinet, "Shit." He mutters tugging his curls back immediately calling their midwife. He wishes his babies could atleast wait for him to be there with their momma.

"Miss. Dori !! Y/N has gone into labour, 'm out, dunno —---" There's loud urgent shuffling on her side that of picking stuff and closing metal boxes as she assures Harry with firmness, "I'll be there in just 10 minutes, till then reach there as quick as possible. She needs you Mr. Styles." It collects sweat at the dip of his spine sky rocketing his anxiety. His breath elevating at the sight of his society's gate and if it was possible he'd have flown to her.

Parking hastily on the side of road and leaving his car's door open — dishelved he steps outside almost falling square on his face while the old couple that use to sit at their porch in mornings watch him with concern, "Is everythin' alright son?"

They ask and Harry nods yelling to them, "Y/N is in labour!!" His face blowing out of any color when his ears fills with painful screams of his lil penguin and his fingers jumbles with keys unlocking the door.

It's surreal. The realization not completely setting in that all of this's happening right at this moment, that he's going to be a daddy in some hours, Y/N hunched over the bottom stair squatting down with thighs wide apart and her gown soaked against her back. His breath knocks out of his lungs and eyes bursts into shock when he sees his baby's head pushing it's way out in between her legs.

"I can see it's head! I can see it's head oh m'godness." He announces rushing towards her and Miss. Dori guides him, "Harry help her pull it out, cup the baby's head and if it's shoulders are grab-able, have it out." He places the phone atop the stair sitting down beside Y/N kissing the side of her head quickly wiping her tears away.

"Hi baby, it'll be alright, 'm here now let's pull our bubba out mighty quick." He presses his chest to floor to look down there and if Y/N would have been in her good state of mind she'd have butt him in not to. His brows kinks tightly together as he tries to concentrate and not to pass out from the sight of blood and his blood covered infant half hanging in it's mother's v.

Gently he wraps his shivering palm around it's head and shoulder moreso figuring out if it could itself comes out, "push a bit more, moppet." She shakes her head furiously crying and trying with all her will, "It's hurts!!" He wishes the process wasn't that painful.

"I know, I know baby —- oh okay okay! We got him." He cackles through his worry taking him all out and in his arms having a good grip around it's tiny waist fearing it would slip. Y/N takes a huge sigh of relief muscles loosening and shoulders slumping. She could hear him sniffing close to her with little noises despite of how much she wants to hug him, she still has another one to bring out in the world.

"It's Elios." He grins with ablazed glossy eyes stroking his tweeny baby hair back. Though his excitement shatters into pieces as he cries to Miss. Dori, "He's not breathin, n'--not breathin' what do I do??" He has switched into his fight and flight mode. Fat tears spilling down his cheeks. Y/N wants to have him in her arms and make sure her baby's healthy but a hard contraction makes her bones jello with her another baby trying to pop out.

"Calm down Mr. Styles, Is his cord wrapped 'round his neck?" When Harry couldn't mutter a single word just shaking his head ear to ear staring down his little one with fear and sadness, Y/N screams for him, "No!!"

"It's nothin', clean his nose, it's probably some clotting blocking his breathing passage." Harry acts on her instruction without wasting a time and the threshold's walls bounced with prattle of his low coarse cries, "Oh my god!!" Harry gasps holding his baby boy closer to his chest not giving two fucks if his shirt and skin stains with thick blood.

In the meantime Miss. Dori and her assistant nurse tramps through their door. Cutting the cord Nurse takes Elios from Harry's arms and takes him for a cleanup as Harry leads her to their nursery. When he comes back Miss. Dori has their other bubba already out and it's worth watching him flying into clouds of paradise, full of glee, happiness, so much happiness has never experienced before.

"Hi. Victoria." He keeps his voice soft if she's a chinese porcelain doll and would break in his arms. He loves his son to core but the way his heart just swirled with fondness and love for his daughter the second she was layed into his embrace was something else. He's tender with her and from just gazing her it spurt out a sob from the deepest of his tummy, "she was so stubborn to come out rather than his brother." Miss. Dori tells him and his head perks up with proud adoration. Handing her to nurse he turns his gaze back to his exhausted lil penguin leaning against the wall now. And scoots closer to his bestfriend, the love of his life and the mother of his babies.

Hugging her warmly and affectionately, winding his arm around the nape of her neck to smoosh her into his chest while she cries against his throat. Being tender and the softest yet sweetest he could be with her, pressing his lips against her ear to whisper words that made her cry even more loudly into his bicep, "I love you, I love you more than anythin' in the world, 'm s' soo proud of ye' baby, me soulmate and the love of me life. I promise to love you forever and infinity." The world blurs around them and their heartbeats latches to sync in with eachother. The morning light cocoons them with softness and they don't care if they're sitting in a pool of blood, mess of the beautiful birth of their gorgeous twins.

"I love you too, so much." She hiccups pacifying down not wanting to never be able say them again as Harry runs a hand at her back, limbs still tangled with eachother, whispering sweet things to her while Miss. Dori pulled her placenta out, "Y/N?" He panics when she dulls in his arms head lulling at his shoulder and heartbeat slowing down to feeble a line. Gently pulling his face out from the cave of her neck he pats her cheek worriedly, again, at her unconscious state, her head dangling back over his wrist, "Y/N!?" His heart squeezing tight miserably into his ribcages when she doesn't respond to his calls.

"'M listenin', pet." She whispers smiling weakly and Harry's lungs nourishes with air, "Scared me baby love." He hugs her again with a wobbling pout and this time she tries to console him.

"Y'okay baby? Should we go to hospital? It's better if —--"

"'M okay!!" She simpers kissing the dip of his collarbone. Carefully he smoothes an arm down her back and knees picking her up bridal style to take her to their bathroom for a hot nice bath full of essential oils. He caress her face, trailing his knuckles down her cheeks, gazing her fondly while sitting down on the floor beside her with his one hand inside the warm water to lull around her calves.

"I love you, you've given me such beautiful babies. 'Ave ye seen Tori ? She's a proper you, that lil bunny mouth of yours, aish." He giggles and she squeezes his fingers in a silent gesture to tell him how happy she's. Drying her clean with a towel and moisturizing her body, making her wear her comfortable gown.

When he tucks her under sheets she babbles with droopy eyelids and tired body, "can I see my babies?" He smauches a kiss against her forehead, "After a teeny rest, yeah angel?" But, she was already out like a bulb making him chuckle softly.

Miss. Dori left the kind nurse behind with them till Y/N wakes up and with her help Harry lays down the twins on either side of their mommy. Deeply pondering how lucky he's to have his family completed and healthy, tucked into their mother's armpits.

He giggles and holds his breath in awe when Elio wriggles in his blanket, scootes his bum closer when Y/N yawns and stretches, "how ye' feelin'?" He brushes her loose tresses back and she nods attempting to sit up.

"Good." Thanking him when he gets comfy amount of pillows behind her, "wanna hold them?" He asks as she ducks down to kiss both of their soft skins.

"'M arms are still shakin' . ." She chuckles, "no biggie, I'll help ya out, a bestie in need is a bestie indeed." She giggles loudly startling Tori and Harry hushes her comically scooching behind her embracing her in a heated wrap from behind chin resting over her shoulder, "shh, gotta be quite with this one — such a light sleeper bub."

"This's Victoria Anne Styles and Elios Vincent Styles." He supports her one forearm with his's under: giving Elio to her and having Tori in his other, "are you presenting them to me as some kind of award for my bravery, pet?" She nudges him playfully and he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Such nice awards, innit?" He gives her an eskimo kiss and she puckers her lips asking for a loving smooch of his candy lips, "absolutely."

They took their first nap together with Harry and Y/N on either side of bed with their babies in the middle of their warmth just like a nest of sparrows, safe, comfy and utterly snuggly with the couple protecting their dainty creatures of soft flesh from the storms of outside.

"C'mere baby . . " Harry usheres Oreo with the snap of his thumb as she tries to canoodle into the soles of his feet tickling him and she obliges his tone, "Good girl . ." His own voice tired petting her crown when she turns into a lil ball of fur beside Tori who's sleeping at her daddy's side, being ever hesitant and carefull with them making Harry smile at her thinking of giving her treats in dinner.

He almost slips from under the sheets when a shriek of cry jolts him awake and it's Tori crying loudly thrashing under the blanket while her brother kept on sleeping stretched over his mommy's chest, head tucked under her chin.

Ah! Here comes the real deal. Daddy Harry's about to face real challenges 'cause we all know he once promised that he's a big boy now, innit?

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appleb0mb · 3 years ago

Audio

Twisted Wonderland x Date A Live: Pomefiore - Calamity Arises (Minor Theme)

White and Purple Zantedeschia/Canna Lilies - White symbolizes innocence and purity, while purple represents royalty and admiration.

OTHER: Black Zantedeschia/Canna Lilies - Represents mystery and elegance.

Aphrodite - Known for her enticing beauty, love, and eternal youth. Many Greeks believe that her beauty would spark wars between the Greek gods. Also known as the goddess of sexual love and pleasure.

Previous: “I don’t want to be here anymore. Nobody, not even Vil…isn’t listening to me.” [ Clematis ] here.

“Really? You think, that I would lose to some idiot, some pathetic, useless crap like you? And become - what - SECOND PLACE?!?”

“I try so hard to be like you. To be free! To have no weight on my shoulders. To finally be who I am. And all you do is prance around, reaping the rewards without any hard work.”

“I deserve it. I deserve freedom. I DESERVE to be first place, right?”

“Give it to me. Give it to me NOW!!!”

(NOTE: This is absolutely free! But NOT free to steal credit from! PLEASE CREDIT MY ART AND MUSIC, AND ASK FOR PERMISSION FROM ME!!!)

(Also comments, criticism, reblogs and likes are appreciated! I enjoy seeing them because they brighten my day ( ◜◒◝ )♡)

If you’re into some Pomefiore plot, please - continue below~.

A word from appleb0mb:

Uh. Welcome.

Also I FINALLY managed to upload this. Omg. Tumblr was taking FOREVER to make me upload my music I swear.

But, I can’t believe it! We’re finally at the end of Pomefiore’s arc! I...I’m in tears/j.

The final track...still hard to believe. After one year of Begonia being my latest song, to now!

Thank you so much for the support!

(Also please note that there will be NO Concept Track. This is because I have almost no recollection of how I did this.)

Imagery and Ideas from Listening to Calamity Arises:

Oh sorry I was listening to OB music. Give me a moment-

There’s a lot of spoilers here, but all I can say this:

I would consider this as a breaking point. Someone who’s ready to explode. Someone who has finally taken control of their life. And nobody, no Spirit will stand in their way.

That’s it :3

TWSTxDAL Plot: Continuation!

Note #1: This is only a snippet of the plot. Take this story with a grain of salt, as it may not produced in the final writing draft.

Also, this part is small because it contains a ton of spoilers. Apologies!

Note #2: petits guppys = petite guppies

The earth shook, rocks levitating into the sky.

A gust of air ran through the crowd, leaving them screaming and helpless.

Your ears stung as alarms blazed through your eardrums, alerting you of the imminent danger in front of you.

A spacialquake.

Rook held on to your figure, his smile dropping instantly into a frown. He held his hat, focusing on the dark aura emanating before them. His emerald eyes glowed, filled with determination and intrigue.

He finally settled you down, giving you a knowing look.

“Stay here. Make sure you call our petits guppys.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll handle the crowd for now. After all, we don’t want the audience knowing our secret, right?” He smirked, giving you a wink.

- End of Post -

Thank you for supporting the fan-made music and art of Twisted Wonderland x Date A Live.

And have a wonderful day!!!

Note: If you have any questions about this post, please request it in my inbox or under this post.

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celestialgaea · 4 years ago

Note

1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something for brotherhood Ezio - either fluff or smut (maybe a hybrid if such a thing exists?)

These requests really make my heart soft :,) It’s definitly not troublesome at all, darling! a smut/fluff is coming your way :)) enjoy reading!

btw, I always had the concept in mind of Ezio being a nude model for a painter/paintress so I used it as inspiration for this request, I hope you like it!

Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio x Reader

warnings: smut, fluff, mature content

summary: Ezio convinces you of using his nude body as reference for your painting and that’s where things start to get heated.

A sound of raging growls left your throat as it was the sixth time you scratched away the slender torso that was sketched upon the parchment. It was slender, too slender for it to be still considered human. Ironic. The Greek gods were inhuman, but you were unable to project the divine muscles that roamed in your thoughts onto the piece of dried lamb skin. You missed Florence, dearly, and since the first week that you had left the vivid city to live in the unknown town of Monteriggioni you thought that the quiet farms, where trees of oranges grew, would help revive the inspiration to paint a Magnum Opus but it only dried the river of colour in your head. You couldn’t compare Florence to a third rate town as Monteriggioni. You could still recall the smell of paint and the dusty marmer that stained the Florentin air of the market, and the sight of novices carrying their painting supplies as they were on their way to class. You missed how you used to visit churches, not to pray, but rather to admire the fresco’s. Now it was all gone. No inspiration and the few churches that existed in this village were sober and only consisted of a giant crucifix and a statue of Madonna holding her child.

bang bang. Someone knocked on the door of your atelier. With a dissatisfied grunt you threw the charcoal pencil on the ground and shoved your seat back with a strong force, causing an abrasive sound to be heard from outside the small building.

‘Who is there?’ You asked sharply as you walked towards the wooden door. You tried to regain your patience and freshened your cheeks, which was red of annoyment, by pressing your abnormally cold palms against them.

‘It’s me, Ezio.’ His voice was unclear due to the door that seperated you, but it did not spoil the low rumble that was always present in his speech. You pressed your eyelids together rather harshly and groaned in regret. How shameful musn’t it be to shoot invisible daggers towards Ezio as just the thought of his intimidting gaze locked on your face after your scene of lost temper made you wish you hid instead of confronting him. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of embaressment.

You opened the door to the sight of Ezio leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow arched in question.

‘I came to check up on you, ragazza. It sounded as if you were fighting off pirates in there.’ You felt how your face heated up against your will and you tried to laugh it of with a breathless snicker. ‘The only thing I was fighting with were my sketches,’ You stepped aside, exposing a part of your artist studio. It was not big, as it was perfect to fit in a few tables and art easels with canvasses of variating sizes, but it was practical enough to be able to craft in peace. But it seems that the serene peace wasn’t present anymore these past weeks.

‘Where are my manners, come in.’ With a faint smile he swiftly entered and closed the door.

‘Lack of inspiration?’ He asked. You nodded. ‘Not only that, It is impossible to find any references to bodies as muscled as those of the Greek Gods. Monteriggioni isn’t filled with art as in Firenze, thus making it difficult for me to find those references.’ As you looked at him from the side, you saw how perfect his body posture was to be used as reference; It was flexible and broad, yet it was intimidating and yet not graceful enough to be that of a dancer.

Ezio hummed in understanding. He was slightly proud that he still had the ability to make you blush, even in his forties, when he caught your eyes wandering through his clothing. ‘Why don’t you use models like Leonardo does? You could ask him to lend some to you,’ You grinned. ‘Ezio, my dear. The only references to human bodies that Leonardo uses are either dug up from their grave or strangers with the most inhuman facial complexion. Leonardo is fascinated by the misshapen, not the divine.’

‘Well, if the ancient Greeks believed that women were the misshapen copies of men, then I confirm myself as being fascinated by the misshapen. My dear.’ He mocked. His lips curled into a sly smirk and he winked at you, but you merely scoffed playfully as you shook your head and walked towards the chaotic scene that played upon your desk; Scattered parchment with incomplete sketches, charcoal pencils and quills thrown all over the table and, at the moment, irrelevant attributes such as a skull and a terracotta bust of Bacchus -A marmer bust was way too expensive for the meager loan you had to live with-

‘Charmed.’ You said, not impressed. Maybe slightly impressed.

‘As I thought you would be,’

The open space of the studio behind you felt enclosed as the soft touch of Ezio’s breath caressed the nape of your neck. His eyes roamed over the table, observing every object -he even squatted down and stared into the dead eyes of Bacchus-, and trailed alongside the lines of your sketches with his middle and index finger pressed together, the two fingers levitating above the charcoal lines.

‘Why did you scratch them? It is beautiful. Well, I am not going to lie, it looks a bit...how should I word it?’ He mumbled. ‘Bad?’ ‘A bit out of proportion,’ He trailed alongside the torso with the same two fingers. ‘See,’ Ezio said. ‘The torso is a bit too long, and the muscles are too muscled.’

You scoffed, a small laugh plastered on your face. ‘Too muscly,’ You mumbled to yourself. ‘Ezio, I don’t know if you have noticed but I do not have any male models nor have I seen a man naked before. No, I mean, not that I am a virgin. But I just haven’t seen a naked man with the right size.’ Good Lord. Ezio grinned, not ashamed for the innapropriate phrase that kept resonating in his head, and locked eyes with you as he raised one eyebrow. You shivered. It was that one raised eyebrow that made his face so intimidating, so intense. ‘Not the right size, huh?’

‘You know what I mean, old man.’ He scoffed. His hand covered his breast and he pretended to be in pain. ‘You wound me with your words, bella.’

Oh Ezio. He was so entertaining. He was probably one of the very few reasons your stay in Monteriggioni will last for a very long time. Leaving him would make you feel empty. Ezio had a way of pulling women (and also men) towards him, chaining them with such a scorching desire that it would feel injust and even sinful to break the invisible attraction He brought those small moments of thrills and excitement with him whenever he just walked by making you want his attention to be focused on you and solely you.

‘I could send an apprentice of mine to model, but only if you’d like?’ ‘Are they quite muscled? I need a body that represents the gods and not 17 year old boys who are only interested in horses and girls.’ ‘No, judging by the statues I have seen in Florence they wouldn’t be a very great choice. And besides, I don’t think that they can stand still, naked, for a few hours while a beautiful lady has a clear view of their cazzo without, you know, the visuals showing their excitement.’

Your facial expressions showed slight disgust as you were imagining their erect member and face, reddened with shame, while they were posing as one of the Greek deities. Well, to be fair, you couldn’t expect less. They were boys with raging hormones, and you were a young adolescent that was not able to conceil her raging hormones from experienced and charming men. Or shortly said; Ezio.

Speak of the devil.

Ezio noticed the disgust on your face and emitted a low and rumbling snicker as he patted your back, the impact of his force causing your shoulder to be shoved forwards. ‘Keep your sneaky little mind away from my apprentices private parts will you?’

‘Ezio!’ You hit his arm, your mouth open and pretending to be shocked by his remark, but you couldn’t help but curl your mouth into a smile. ‘Back to our previous topic,’ You said, recovering from what just had happened. ‘I really need to find a male model for my project, Ezio.’ Ezio happened to show empathy with you as he began taking off his boots.

‘Ezio, what in heaven are you doing? Put those back on! Ezio what are you thinking?’ Nailed to the floor you looked at ezio who was only wearing his trousers and chemise, its string loosened and showing the flesh upon his chest, and had his hands on the sides of the edge of his pants, ready to take them of and show the world what momma gave him. ‘I am sacrificing my pride for the sake of your painting.’

Your eyes widened. ‘Would you do that for me? Really?’ ‘Bella, what does it look like I am doing?’ He grinned, taking off the rest of his clothing as you had turned around to reorganize your table and prepared the small podium on which Ezio had to model.

‘And besides, what did you mean with Sacrificing your pride?’ You heard Ezio sigh while you sharpened your charcoal pencils. ‘All these men on Classical paintings have a...well, you know, a small penis, so you will have to reduce mine...a lot.’ You laughed, placing the pencils on the table. ‘Oh, Ezio, I don’t really think it will be necessary.’ You said teasingly. You sat down behind the desk when you heard his voice floating around your ears as he walked towards the small podium, every inch of his skin exposed for you and only you. ‘Prego?’

It was difficult to keep your gaze off his private part. It was just...hanging there, minding its bussiness. It was as if your insulting remark about his member just spat back at you with double as much spit. You managed to clear your throat in a subtle way without choking on your saliva. ‘You’ll have to lay down.’ You said. You stood up to grasp a few layers of cloth to cover the small stage to save Ezio’s behind a bit from the harsh ground. It felt weird to be so near him; He was naked and you were clothed.

You quickly smoothened the cloth onto the stage, fixating your disorientated eyes on it, and walked, almost ran, with rapid speed back to your desk.

It still felt like a fever dream. You were able to get the most skilled murderer fully naked in front of you, without asking once. As it felt surreal, it simutaniously felt forbidden too. He was way older, a teacher of a kind, how many women wouldn’t have killed for this chance. For seeing Ezio naked, almost vulnurable without his armour. Vulnurable for attack as told by the white lining of the remaining scars on his body.

‘Lay down and lean on your elbows,’ And so he did. ‘Put one knee up. No the other knee, Ezio. Not so high, go a bit lower. Not that low. Yes, stay like that!’ Ezio grinned softly. ‘You are very demanding, aren’t you bella?’ ‘You iniated on being my model, Ezio, so do as I say.’ Ezio raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head, sucking air through his teeth, sounding similar to scorching metal in cold water. ‘My apologies, maestro.’

His body was beautiful. Not too brawny and not fat. Broad muscles showing through his skin and simultaneously a layer of soft fat hugged around his torso, but it didn’t hang nor did it seem loose, It was tight and gave Ezio’s body comfortable for burning cuddles.

You gave a last look at Ezio’s position, observing it, but something felt wrong. It felt plain, flat. It didn’t have your desired dimentions.

‘Ezio,’ He turned his head towards you. ‘Could you touch the ground with your left hand and move your torso towards your lifted knee. Let your right arm rest upon that raised knee, yes, just like that.’ It was better. More rounded than flat. And the most beautiful of all was how above his pubic hair, which was trimmed, small layers of skin bundled upon each other, giving more dimention to his body.

You picked up the stylus - a metal pen- with satisfaction and began carving lines onto the parchment. Those lines slowly became basic shapes until more shade and more complexity was added to them. Ezio’s eyes kept sailing from around the room to your concentrated face. It must be intimidating for him whenever it took only fractions of seconds before you raised your eyes to look at him every single time. And every time he wondered how many seconds it would last this time before you watched him again.

‘Do you do this a lot? Using nude models?’ Ezio asked. You stood halt in your drawing to look up at him. ‘Well, No. Back in Firenze I was too ashamed to ask for one. If the word would spread about a women making a carreer out of brush strokes instead of a man stroking her to let her bear him a son, they’d burn my paintings. And they may burn my paintings, but i’ll still use the ashes to draw a big cazzo on the front door of their homes.’ You said, slightly flinching at the thought of your face being tortured by the sweltering flames that are devouring your art works. Ezio laughed. His wide-opened mouth created deep curving lines next to it, sparkling eyes squinting at you.

How did he do it? How was he capable of making you desire him with just a smile. A smile of confidence. A smile of which hundreds of women fell for. Let alone how his body would call for company as melancholy and charm hung like a perfume around him.

‘Eccezionale,’ He grinned in a breath. ‘And in Monteriggioni?’ ‘The average male in this village is almost expired. They’re at least fifthy.’

‘You don’t older men?’ He asked teasingly. Yes you did, especially him. ‘There is a difference between older and old. Old men are almost expired. Older men, on the other hand, are more matured and experienced.’

With a last look at the sketch you laid down the stylus and motioned for Ezio to move again. You quickly added some shadows around the sillhouette around the body as you felt Ezio stand behind you.

‘And what is “older” to you?’ ‘You ask a lot of Questions, Ezio. Aren’t you Il mentore?’ His broad shoulders casted a shadow on your cheek that was turned to his side. ‘I’m curious. Isn’t a man allowed to ask questions? Especially if he’s as expired as me?’ You scoffed.

‘Ezio, you are not expired. You aren’t old.’

‘I’ll be turning fifthy in five years.’

‘That’s still ages away from now.’

‘Time flies, bella.’

‘Well, mentore, I don’t perceive you as old. In fact, you are mature and very sharp.’ You stole a quick glance of his private part before letting your gaze wander towards the floor. How was he able to keep himself so tame when the tension was creating a heated knot in your lower stomach? The knot kept contracting with every breath from Ezio’s soft lips that brushed against your neck and the radiating heat from his naked body caused by the Florentine sun that tortured his skin underneath the layers of his heavy assassin robes.

You turned around, trapped in between the wooden desk and Ezio’s nudeness, and placed a hand on his bicep. ‘How aren’t you burned yet underneath all those layers of clothing.’ Your eyes locked with his. ‘I have very thick skin,’ He palmed your hand in his and lead it down his muscular arm, rubbing against its hot skin, let it follow the curves of his muscles back up to his chest. You didn’t even need to glance down to see that his good old friend has “awakened”.

Ezio’s hand caressed your collarbone and slid down, only to stop at the cleavage of your gown. With his index finger he easily pulled the piece of fabric away from your chest, exposing your breasts that were visible through the thin night gown.

He hummed in satisfaction.

Ezio disposed you of your clothes in a slow and agonizing manner until your naked body was hugged by the warm air that filled the art studio. His eyes, filled with passionate lust, wandered over your whole body, absorbing every inch of naked skin. Ezio pressed his body close to you and you felt how his manhood, swollen with blood, was pressed against your stomach. Ezio kissed your lips. His lips covering your upper lip as you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. His tongue wetted the entrance of your mouth before the warmth of his saliva got mixed with yours. Ezio’s hands roamed your whole body, he wanted to take all of you, touch all of you, feel every piece of your hot skin lingering against his. His hands trailed back to your upper thighs and rubbed them as his fingers curled to grip the soft flesh of it. His warm hands felt rough and experienced against your inner thighs, it felt like everything that desire is.

Ezio pulled your legs around his waist and carried you the the small improvised podium of layered blankets as his one hand held the fold at the backside of your knee and the other was pressed against your lower back.

You couldn’t describe how overwhelmed you where with all these sensory feelings. Your contracting stomach, heating core and tickling neck, caused by Ezio’s lips and teasing nips, made you close your eyes and press your legs tighter around his torso. You pressed yourself against Ezio while you yearned for his body engulfing yours in this passionate warmth as Ezio’s hot breaths left humid spots on your neck.

His lips kissed your collarbone and so he went down with smouldering and slow kisses down to the curve in between the mounds of your breasts. His hand cupped your breast and massaged your nipple with his thumb as his mouth place kisses on the side of your other breast before tracing to your nipple and holding it between his lips.

your breathing became irregular, some were sharp and some were pitched. Your hands took a grip on Ezio’s broad back and you couldn’t help but groan in a breath. His body slid down on yours until he stopped above your pubic bone, a trail of saliva covered your torso. Ezio placed your legs on his shoulders, holding onto your thighs, and he breathed so softly against your humid entrance.

It felt tingly and increased your need for him to touch you. Ezio’s fingers caressed your labia as his hot and humid tongue slid up your crease. Your breath hitched. His lips covered your clit, his beard tickling your inner thighs, kissing it before taking it between his lips and sucking on it. You groaned. Your clit was pusling and you felt how your entrance was filled with so much ecstasy. Ezio kept licking, nibbling and just making you feel on cloud nine until you felt how tension was layering and building up in your core and you felt how it was almost going to explode in bright colours of the sweet relieve. But Ezio stopped before you could taste that pure sweetness and how much you disliked it, the builded up tension slowly died down.

‘Why did you stop?’ You asked defeatedly. Ezio smirked. ‘I want us to finish together,’ You were surprised. ‘Because I can’t wait any longer to be inside of you.’ Ezio slid back up so his lips could reach your mouth again. You enveloped your leg around his waist and Ezio gripped the fold of your knee, slowly pressing your thigh against your chest.

He groaned as the tip of his manhood entered slowly. He stopped after a few inches of his manhood had entered so you’d adapt to his lenght and width and began pumping slowly before he’d let his whole penis enter inside of you inch by inch. He filled you so good.

Ezio began pumping in and out between your slick walls and went rougher. The sweetness and lust of the moment made both of your groan in synch. But the more he motioned inside of you, the more your groans became heartfelt moans. You grabbed ezio’s back as you bit on his shoulder. With every push and every thrust of his body against yours the sinful sounds of hitting skin was like background music for the hymn of your moans. Ezio grabbed your thigh and pushed himself deeper, which you doubt was still possible, and the poor man was lost in deep groans. He kept you close to him as he filled you until the building up layers made you speed up, shortening the silence between every clap of skin. ‘Ezio,’ You whispered in lost sweetness. The more tension that build up, the more the yearning for that sweet relieve became. ‘(Y/N),’ He groaned in your ear, huskily.

Only a few strokes and you were there, both of you. Oh, sweet Lord, how you were losing your mind in a blurr of white light. Just those few last strokes and you’d explode. You were almost there...almost...and ‘Ezio!’ The ball of squeezed tension exploded into a firework of sweetness and fire. Ezio came inside of you with squeezed eyes and a groan before he let himself relax onto you. Your chests were elevating in an irregular rythm.

‘Mio Dio,’ You whispered in amazement. Ezio slid out of you and took the excess length of the cloth to cover both of you.

‘So when are you free to come back? To finish the painting?’

‘Very soon, Bella, very soon.’

#ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore #ezio auditore fanfiction #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed brotherhood #ezio x reader #older ezio x reader #smut fanfiction #ezio auditore smut

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theleftovertaco · 4 years ago

Text

Anger Management

Concept: Harry is tired studying for finals, and dealing with Umbridge and Voldemort so you make him a rage room to destroy

If you have never smashed an inanimate object with a bat I highly encourage it, it is rather therapeutic.

Warnings: glass, violence, If you try this at home make sure it is with parental supervision and that there are protective measures in place. Or go and pay for it ig there are rage room companies now

“Fuck.” You turned to see Harry thumping his head on the table next to you. The Great Hall was half full with students studying for finals, and with the end of year Potions OWL, at least half the student body was dreading the following weeks.

This included Harry. Between dealing with Umbridge and her blood quills, OWLs, and trying to hide the DADA, he was stressed beyond belief.

“Potions?”

“Fucking Snape.” you laughed at his response and carded your fingers through his hair, which he responded to with a light groan.

“Feels nice. Thanks.” The moment you shared was interrupted by a light ‘hem hem’ from everyone's least favorite professor.

“I believe I made the rules quite clear. No public displays of affection between anyone at Hogwarts.” Umbridge repeated the rule in a sickly sweet voice. You withdrew your hand and returned to your work, with a quiet ‘sorry professor’.

“You should count yourself lucky I’m feeling nice today... ten points from from Potter, and ten points from Y/L/N. Have a lovely day.” She marched off to lecture a group of first years practicing levitation charms.

Harry let his head drop to the table again with a thud, when an idea struck you.

“Harry, get up, c’mon. We’re going somewhere.”

“What? Why?” You grabbed his hand and packed up your books.

“Just trust me, hurry!” And you darted out of the Great Hall.

“Wait up!” He shouted after you, haphazardly stuffing his quills and parchment into his bag and sprinted off to follow you.

“Where are we going? Can you at least tell me that?”

“Room of Requirement, hurry up!”

You ran past the 7th floor three times before a red door emerged, and then dragged him through the entrance.

“Where are we- woah.” He stared around the room, reminiscent of a warehouse.

Glass bottles and other structures were place around the room, and on the wall closest to you, a large selection of bats, crowbars, and eye goggles were hung on the wall.

“Rage Room. Choose your weapon!” You grabbed a bat off of the wall and place some goggles on before motioning at Harry to do the same. He ran his hands along the wall, before choosing a metal bat and putting on a pair of goggles over his glasses.

“Ok, now what?”

You laughed. “Now, we destroy everything in this room. You’re angry, so pretend each of the bottles is something that’s making you angry, someone that’s making you angry. Then destroy it. I’ve done this a couple times, it’s very therapeutic.”

Harry stared at you for a moment before shrugging and shuffling over to a table with a few bottles. Still a little cautious, he gently knocked one on the ground, head following as the bottle smashed into pieces.

“Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that! Here, like this.” You brought your bat across a different table, hitting half the bottles and smashing them everywhere.

Harry tried again, following your pace, and a grin broke out on his face as he realized that it helped.

“Y/N, here!” Harry yelled out in glee as he tossed a glass your way and you hit it mid air, causing glass to spray out everywhere, then he threw his arms up in excitement.

The two of you race around the room in a whirlwind of glass, force, and complete and total destruction for the better part of an hour. When you ran out of glass, the room conjured more.

After the two of you tired yourself out, you practically collapsed on top of each other in a corner of the room, and you reached over to your school bag and opened your water and downed half of it before passing it over to Harry, which he accepted with a short ‘thank you’ before finishing it off.

You looked over at him, “So. Did that work?” a smile was glued on his face as he replied.

“Yeah, yeah I think it might have. Thanks.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

“Anytime.”

#harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter headcanon #Harry Potter headcanons #harry potter imagine

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sleepylixie · 4 years ago

Text

Only Fools Rush In

Crown Prince! Jeongin X fem! Reader

Fantasy AU, Loose retelling of Sleeping Beauty.

7k words, Platonic pairing, Beware of non-graphic mentions of death( only mentions, with respect to curses and dark magical behaviour ), slight violence in fight scenes (not explicit at all), NO mentions of blood.

Songs: Can’t Help Falling in Love(DARK) - Tommee Profitt // Tomorrow We Fight - Tommee Profitt ft. Svrcina

|| Prologue ||

A/N: @magicbehindwords hello, Carolyn! Tis me, your Secret Santa!! Man, you have the chillest vibes, I really enjoyed figuring out this fic for you! I had something entirely different planned, but you saying you enjoyed a good high fantasy read ended with me happily derailing and plunging into the Fantasy Woods instead xD I hope you enjoy this offering(I know it’s really late hhh I’m vv sorry T^T)

There will be one more fic joining my pair of Christmas gift fics! As a part of @hanflix With Love, Chistmas holiday collab, I will be posting a Jisung fic soon! Anyways, onto the fic!! Do let me know what you think, my ask box is open! ~

Drop me an Ask! || Masterlist

It’s been very rare to have known you, very strange and wonderful. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

1-JEONGIN

“.....Crown Princess of the Western Isles.”

An elegantly dressed young lady stood before Jeongin, her hair falling over her shoulders as she sank into a neat curtsy. He cursed himself for not catching her name during her herald. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Highness,” her voice was a smooth serenade, the words rising and falling in an unfamiliar accent . Her eyes didn’t flit away from his gaze or widen in flirtation, but maintained a steady gaze akin to his own. Jeongin’s brow arched slightly- she was brazen, playfully so.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.” He bowed back slightly, suppressing a sigh at the repeated action he was forced to perform. He had been meeting the multitude of ladies Ataloria had to offer for what felt like time immemorial. It was the same old thing, over and over again- bow, exchange pleasantries, have them whisked away by the herald before speaking about anything of consequence. The hall was abuzz with quiet laughter and chatter, the excitement palpable for the biggest celebration the kingdom had seen in centuries- The Rose Gala.

Ataloria was a kingdom ruled by women ever since it’s conception- queens of enormous power, wealth and cunning who turned the once tiny valley town into the biggest empire of its confederation. While a queen could rule Ataloria solo, a royal son would require a woman in wedlock to rule with him, cementing his place on the throne for him. To make sure their kingdom’s prince found a suitable wife before his coronation, the tradition of The Rose Gala was born.

In the son’s 18th year, a celebration would be held in Ataloria inviting ladies from every corner of the kingdom to the Rose Palace(his home) for a chance at the Crown Prince’s hand. Such was the fairness of the bygone queens- they believed that nobility was a reflection of character, not blood.

“May I have this dance, Your Highness?” Jeongin met the princess’ eyes, surprised- none of the previous ladies he’d met had yet to ask him for a dance, but here was this princess, her twinkling eyes matching her smile as she held her gloved hand out. A smile pulled up the side of his lips as he accepted her hand, leading her into the centre of the dance floor. She was bold, playfully so- he liked it.

The band picked up a soulful waltz piece as Jeongin swept the princess into his arms, the two of them melting naturally against each other as they began to move. She was well- trained, Jeongin noted, because she moved with fluid ease, balancing her movements with his despite this being their first dance together.

“How has the Gala been so far, Your Highness?” Her accent was less pronounced than it was before, but Jeonign shrugged it off. It was likely because he was getting accustomed to it. “It has been quite an interesting affair, my lady. I hope the preparations for your arrival and living have been up to your standards.”

“You live in a beautiful city, Your Highness” she giggled lightly as Jeongin twirled her out and back into his arms, unfaltering in their motions. “Yes, the capital of Ataloria has lived up to the many expectations that us outlanders had of it… But I wonder, Are you always this formal?” He allowed a smile of his own to creep up his face- her stubbornly casual behaviour intrigued him more than he’d like to admit. “If you insist on thinking me formal, I must insist that you address me by my chosen name and not by my title… your name, my lady?”

An amused grin lit up the princess’ face, her hand tightening almost infinitesimally on his shoulder as the music crescendoed to a high.

“Y/N, Your Highness. My name is Y/N.”

2-JEONGIN

The moon was creeping higher in the sky when Jeongin slipped into the highest tower in the north wing. It had been a struggle to slip away from The Rose Gala, a faked headache finally allowing him to rush back to his chambers and gather up his belongings so he could sneak his way to the North Tower.

His previous princely outfit had been exchanged to lighter, more rugged garments of the darkest black, embroidered with threads of silver. A snicker bubbled to his lips at the thought of the ladies in the Rose Hall, of how they’d react if they saw their sweet yet aloof prince like this- scratching a pentagram onto the stone floor with an air of familiarity he hadn’t exhibited to them.

Spellcasting had been a guilty passion for Jeongin ever since he sat in on his mother’s meeting with the silver-eyed spellcaster coven that resided just outside Ataloria’s borders, thoroughly intrigued by how they wove enchantment into words and items like it was second nature. He was forbidden from interacting with them, however. His mother told him that some knowledge was beyond the ears of an ordinary mortal and such boundaries must be respected without error.

However, curiosity had driven him to swipe a few books from the coven elders, fascinated by all the information that lay between the covers. It became a habit to steal some of the spellcasters’ books during their visits, replicate them as soon as possible and return them to their original resting place in the coven’s temporary living chambers.

Over time and innumerable incidents of trial and error, he learnt to wield the energy that thrummed in the world around him. Starting from simple levitation, he worked his way through more and more complex spells as his capabilities expanded. Not a single soul knew about the prince’s penchant for spellcasting- it was a secret he guarded fiercely, for fear that he would be frowned upon and misunderstood for communing with dark spirits.

Sitting back on his haunches, Jeongin admired his handiwork- purple candles decorating the cardinal directions on the pentagram, the flames flickering a warm yellow. 5 crystals lay in a circle in the center of the pentagram, all identical in shape but unique in shade. Sigils of protection, enhancement and power decorated the edges and also littered the floor in a circle around him.

Since most of his arcane knowledge came more from reading than practicing, he’d spent months in this very tower room, mouthing the incantations until he was fluent in the foreign language and practicing drawing the sigils until he could draw them in his sleep. There was too much at stake with this spell to get something wrong- the safety of Ataloria, to be specific.

Saying the first words of the incantation out loud stirred something wild in his veins, instantly feeling every wave of energy throbbing around him. It was darker, stronger, almost turbulent in nature, unlike the freely flowing, easily shaped energy he’d always encountered before. But he would endure, because this spell was not a question of just his capabilities, but also the country he’d one day rule.

This Winter Solstice night, he would cast the biggest spell of his short life as a spellcaster.

This Winter Solstice night, he would cast a warding spell around the Atalorian borders.

If everything went perfectly, the warding spell would need no renewal- it would transcend the life of the caster and instead be latched to the power of the kingdom’s crown.

Shivers of cold anticipation slid over his body as the energy began to swirl around the pentagram, his focus honed to a razor sharp edge as his words began to bend it to his will. It was time.

3-JEONGIN

Jeongin knew that something was wrong the second he stepped out of the tower. The Rose Gala wasn’t the quietest affair; the muted sounds of string instruments and chatter had rung through the walls until he cast a sound-dampening spell around the North Tower. Now, despite lifting the spell and stepping out… an eerie silence hung in the air, heavy and stifling. There was none of the merry-making that he’d heard before.

Keeping to the shadows, he crept down the corridor towards the main staircase and stopped short. The guards posted near the sliding doors of the north wing were fast asleep, leaning against the wall and slumped onto the floor. A shiver slithered down Jeongin’s spine. This wasn’t normal. The guards in the palace were nowhere close to lax in security, especially during nights of revelry.

Catching hold of one guard’s shoulder, he shook him hard, hoping that the jostling would wake him up. But he only crumpled to the floor, completely unaware of the world. Almost like he was….no, He couldn’t be. Jeongin fell to his knees before the man, scrabbling for a pulse at the man’s wrist- no, he was alive. Very much so. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he got to his feet, warily scanning the top of the main staircase on the other side of the sliding doors. The silence was almost deafening as he made his way towards the staircase, looking down at the main lobby of the castle-

Everybody was asleep.

It was almost like a wave of sleep had taken over every guard, guest and staff in the palace, rendering them silent and slumped on the floor the second they encountered it. A maid was leant against a pillar, a tray of champagne lying toppled next to her. A herald lay on the floor, curled up next to the skirts of a slumbering lady in red silk.

Stumbling away from the bannister, he collapsed on the top stair, a rush of panic overwhelming him- was he at fault for this? Surely he wasn’t… But what if he was? What had he done wrong? Was the timing off? How was he to fix this?? What was he going to do-

That was when he heard it.

Cutting through the thick silence was a husky, haunting melody, singing words that tore through his mind, bringing back faded childhood memories. He remembered being afraid first, finding solace next in the voice and its wistful song. As he grew up, his slumber came faster and deeper, rendering him unable to listen to the walls’ song. But he didn’t forget the words. He never did.

However, the voice didn’t echo from the walls the way he remembered- this time, it was coming from the very hall The Rose Gala was held in.

“Wise men say only fools rush in...

But I can’t help falling in love with you…”

The voice continued singing the same lines as Jeongin hurried down the staircase and towards the hall, the open doors spilling the chandeliers’ lights into the modestly candle lit corridor. The marble floor of the hall was laden with ladies’ skirts and gentlemen’s capes and cloaks, every single person including his dear parents and family fast asleep- except for one.

Y/N.

Jeongin watched as she sang to herself, her arms held out almost as if she was… she was waltzing with somebody. There was something so haunting about the sight to Jeongin- maybe it was the song that spilled so easily from her lips or the way she danced with nobody but the air to accompany her. Her skirts clutched in one hand, she swept back and forth in front of one of the windows, the only person awake amongst a sea of sleeping people.

“Wise men say only fools rush in...

But I can’t help falling in love with you…”

“You can come in, Your Highness.” her voice lacked the Isle accent he heard before-if anything, she had the exact same accent as his own. “This is, after all, your palace.”

So much for staying hidden. Jeongin cautiously stepped into the hall, eyes narrow as he marked her every movement. But she was calm as she dropped her arms to her sides, turning to face him from across the hall, her smile the exact same as before- brazen, confident, playful.

“Do you have something to do with this, Y/N?” He demanded, his voice quivering with the pent-up panic he was struggling to control. “Oh no, Your Highness,” Y/N responded, beginning to pick her way across the sleeping people towards him. “That’s the question I must ask you. What did you do to my home?”

Jeongin instantly stiffened, one hand going to his belt for his dagger and the other, encompassed in ice-cold hoarfrost. There was no point in hiding his powers, especially if he was alone with…. Whoever she was. To his shock, her eyes lit up in joyous surprise. “Oh, I see you’ve learnt to conjure the elements. You’ve come far in your spellcasting studies, Your Highness.”

“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Y/N, the guardian of the Rose Palace.”

“Oh, this sweet girl?” she raised her arm before brushing back her intricately curled hair with an uncaring flick of her hand. “ Her name is Yelina. She asked me to… assist her in courting you. I assure you, Your Highness, I’m not from the Western Isles nor do I have the need to spy on you.”

“Assist? Yelin- What are you going on about?” Jeongin’s temper finally reached a fever pitch, his voice raising in frustration. “I expect a straight answer from you, whatever your name is. Who are you, and do you have anything to do with this?”

The young lady in front of him dipped into a bow- it wasn’t the neat curtsy he’d seen at the beginning of the night. This was a deep, sweeping bow, almost mocking in nature as she nearly knelt to the floor and rose in one fluid motion.

Her eyes were silver when they met his, a stark contrast from the dark eyes that had peered out of her face before. “And you, young prince, have just caused trouble you might not be able to mend.”

“How do you know that, Y/N?” Jeongin’s voice was as cold as the ice wreathing his fingers, his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep his rising anger in check. “Do the Western Isles dare to spy on its future monarch?”

Just as Jeongin began to advance toward her, his eyes blazing with fury at her twisted answers, a velvet soft laugh from the doors cut through his haze of anger. He caught the way Y/N’s face paled, her demeanour stiffening as she caught sight of who stood behind him. Whirling around, he saw a man walk into the hall, his plump lips pulled back in a satisfied smirk.

“How very quaint of you, guardian.”

His voice was dark, almost sensual in it’s smoothness, a terrible age ringing in every syllable. His hair was a deep purple, drizzled with streaks of white that hung inelegantly over his eyes. A dark cloak fastened at one shoulder fluttered around his feet as he moved further into the hall. There was something wrong with this man, Jeongin realized as his grip tightened on his dagger. The energy in the room had taken a nosedive with his arrival, leaving him with barely a few strands to hold onto.

“Nobody nor the stars give a damn about your opinion, Chris.”

Jeongin started at Y/N’s cold voice ringing from next to him, her eyes narrowed in derision as she stared down the purple-haired man. However, the man wasn’t fazed in the least, his smile only widening in response. “Is that any way to talk to your elder, young one?”

That was when Jeongin noticed the flash of quicksilver in Chris’ eyes- identical to Y/N’s.

Spellcasters.

4- Y/N

“You’re no more my elder than that band of heathens you used to lead.” you spit, stepping in front of Jeongin. You could sense his surprise as he watched your form change- hair turning white, your forehead wreathed with icy blue flames. It probably must be quite overwhelming for him, but you couldn’t spare that much throught- Chris was not to touch a single strand of his hair, stars be damned.

“You’re not welcome here, Chris. Begone.”

“When has that ever stopped me, little one?” Chris’ silver eyes narrowed in a sardonic smile- only, it wasn’t a smile but a soulless show of teeth. “Besides,the intention of my visit was only to extend a hand of gratitude to the crown prince behind you.”

To his credit, Jeongin didn’t so much as flinch, matching Chris’s stare for icy stare. “From the guardian’s stance, I presume your hand of gratitude isn’t one to clamour for.” A rueful smile dragged your lips upward; Jeongin had never been the type to mince his words.

“I must insist, Your Majesty,” Chris’ very stance glittered with the stench of malice, your magic tingling unpleasantly around you. “Or must I call you Jeongin, for you will not remain a royal much longer?”

“I’ll stop you right there.” You growled, fists clenching as blue flames sparked alive in your hands again. “Do not speak of the crown prince that way.”

“Or what, little one?” Chris laughed aloud. “Will your sweet crown prince run his country to doom yet again?”

“W-What-” Jeongin spluttered behind you, confused and bewildered. Chris cut through his stammered sentence, his words carrying over Jeongin’s. “Your spell backfired, princeling. Instead of protecting your kingdom, you sent them all to the one place where they’d never be harmed- their sleep. If only you knew the nuances of spellcasting. Stolen knowledge can only do so much, you know. I allowed you to steal the books, foolish mortal boy. Did you really think you were sneaky enough to swipe from spellcasters??” Chris snarled mockingly at you and Jeongin. You could sense the terror rippling off your prince; taste it like copper on your tongue.

“ Your kingdom will fall to death soon, all because you couldn’t keep your sticky mortal hands to yourself and mess with power you don’t deserve to know, princeling. All of this,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide in sinful exultation, “Will belong to the heathens Y/N spoke about-” And a spear of fire threw him off his feet, sending him flying and crumpling against the far wall.

Stalking towards his prone figure, you pulled him up and slammed him against the wall, your hands clutching his cloak. A line of blue blood trickled down from his hairline to your sick satisfaction, his lips pulled back in a pained snarl. A snake of your flames bound his arms together as you stared him down, silver for silver.

“This kingdom has never been yours, neither will it ever be.” Your voice was soft, icy, pointed. “It belongs to Ataloria now and stars be damned if I don’t make sure it stays that way.”

“You’re a traitor to your own kind, Y/N.” Chris spat in your face, struggling against the flames around his wrists. “Do what you wish to stop this. You and I both know this curse will be fulfilled by that foolish mortal you protect. You’ll get your comeuppance when your princeling’s folly renders this kingdom obsolete,little one. That’s a promise.”

With those final jarring words, he disappeared in a plume of red smoke, leaving you alone with a shell-shocked Jeongin and Ataloria’s sleeping citizens.

5- Y/N

“The land that Ataloria stands on is home to a lot more history than you know, Your Highness.” You bustled into the basement kitchen with the prince at your heels. Jeongin slumped in a chair at the wooden table, his head hidden in his hands. You couldn’t recognize if it was fear, regret or anger, because the only thing you could sense from the prince was a mixture of emotions too complex to gauge.

The both of you had spent the last couple of hours placing temporary warding charms over the entirety of Ataloria- If your brother could break in, god knows what else could. It was no mean feat, especially for two spellcasters and a vast country. But Jeongin rose to the task, his brow furrowed with concentration as he burned perfectly drawn sigils onto the map and spoke incantations with a clear, soulless tongue. The sun rose as you worked on the warding charms- it was bordering early afternoon by the time you led him to the kitchen. It fascinated you how easily the craft came to him; it wasn’t natural for a mortal with no magic in his veins.

“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N.” He sounded small, exhausted, shattered. The night must have been extremely overwhelming for him, you realized. The pressure of being responsible for an entire kingdom’s destruction must not be the easiest weight to carry. “If you’re guardian of this palace, then why didn’t you do something to stop me?” You could hear the blame, the self-loathing in every sentence, but you let him speak. “All these years, you watched me through the walls, sang me lullabies, but didn’t bother to stop me from digging myself a spellcaster grave.”

You gulped, pulling yourself together as you took a seat next to Jeongin. This was not going to be an easy story.

“Your Highness-”

“Call me Jeongin.”

“This story possibly holds the key to righting the wrongs of the night past. Do yourself the favour of listening, Jeongin.” A wave of his hand and straightened posture signalled you to speak, the only response you received.

“The entirety of the Southern Sphere was ruled by spellcasters, their power much greater than those of the spellcasters in your country. Then, this area was called Erus Nox. The spellcasters ruled with great pride and fairness- mortal and Spellcaster coexisting amongst each other with great peace. The capital was not too far from what you now call the Western Isles. Over the centuries, corruption began to take root as it did in any great empire. Many spellcasters did not believe that mortals deserved rights equal to their own, that mortals were the inferior race because of the magic their veins couldn’t hold.

“Soon enough, there were mortal killings in the bowels of the city.News reached my- the Spellcaster King and he ordered his cavalry to round up the perpetrators and have them publicly sentenced to the gallows for breaking the peace. That decision didn’t sit well with the spellcaster nobility, who were now driven to believe that the King.. our king favoured the mortals more than his own blood. Rumors were circulated that the royal family were weak beings, pandering to the whims of their mortal population...it wasn’t true. None of it was. But it spread like wildfire, and suddenly there were mass killings in the suburban areas and the noble circle every other day.”

“Wait, how do you know so much about this?” Jeongin asked you suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. “This clearly isn’t common information. Were you.. Were you one of the rebel forces?!”

“No, you impatient brat.” You bit out, your clenched fists creasing crescent shaped indents into your palms as Jeongin stopped short at your unfamiliar, condescending tone. “If you absolutely must know, I was the crown princess of Erus Nox. Don’t interrupt me, or I will freeze your mouth shut.” A glimmer of amusement flashed past Jeongin eyes at the barely-veiled threat, aware of how different you sounded from barely minutes ago. He nodded at you to continue, so you did.

“My father and I were particularly outspoken against the heathens ravaging the country. We did everything in our power to curb the nonsense, the fanaticism of the rabid spellcaster rebellion. Towards the final days of the… the era, my family and I rallied the mortals and sent them to the closest mortal-dominated towns in the country. By the time the last human group left, it was too late.

“The rebels broke down the wards and- and sent nearly my entire family to the darkness. My father and I fought until we were forcibly subdued. I was made to watch as my father breathed his last, strung up to the throne I was meant to inherit.”

“From his last dying breaths, my father cursed the entire kingdom to fall apart the second he passed. He cursed the land to only cater to a mortal queen when the right lady stepped up, and continue to have only queens in power- may the masses be ruled by the very race they considered inferior. But before he could complete his incantation, he passed into the darkness.”

“Because of the holes his incomplete incantation left behind, the rebel forces brought in Chris to lighten the weight of the curse.- my trusted advisor and confidant,” You shook your head bitterly, the betrayal still ice in your spine. “He was my trusted advisor and confidant, a spellcaster inferior in power only to my family.

“He had no choice but to let the mortal queens part run its course- but he wrote into existence that one day, a mortal prince with a penchant for spellcasting would be born. When he came of age, he would prick himself on the sharp edge that is the art of spellcasting and bring down disaster upon the kingdom as he knows it. At which point, the crown-less kingdom would be ripe for the spellcasters’ picking, heralding the royal son’s folly as a reason for the mortals’ inability to rule- Erus Nox would be restored in all it’s bloody glory for these savage, power-drunk hordes.”

“As for me, well,” You let out a bitter laugh. “Chris had other plans for me. He had resented being my subordinate all along, and took the opportunity to even out his petty grudge. He bound my soul to the castle that was meant to become my home after my coronation, forcing me to watch Erus Nox’s destruction from what was meant to be my chosen headquarters.”

You sighed as you struggled to keep your voice steady, bluntly ignoring the glance of pity that Jeongin sent to you. “He magically sewed my lips shut, forbade me from speaking about the curse and the crusade to anybody, destroying most of my magic reserve and reducing me to.. Well, Guardian of the Rose Palace. But it seems,” you grinned wickedly, your demeanour switching instantly from forlorn to...wild and wicked. “Chris has always had a chronic problem of underestimating me, despite having to trail after my skirts for decades on end. He weakened his curse on me in the heat of the moment back in the hall, when he told me to do what I wish to stop him.” Jeongin’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping in surprise.

“S-So, you’re free?”

“Well,” you cocked your head in thought. “As free as I can be, without a body to inhabit. This young lady’s body is already quite tired out from the exertion I put her through…. But that’s besides the point.” Your eyes glittered in thinly veiled joy, tinged with malice. “This time, he’s truly going to get what’s coming for him.”

6- JEONGIN

“Chris left a glaring loophole in his incantation. It was a possibility he didn’t entertain, because it was a sheer impossibility in his eyes.” Jeongin listened closely as Y/N laid out the information she’d gathered over the years, and the conclusions she’d arrived at from it. The two of them were still sitting at the table where Y/N told him about the story of Erus Nox. His heart was heavy from the pain he felt from her words- being a prisoner in the same castle you were meant to rule from must have been the worst kind of pain to bear.

“..He did not consider the possibility of the mortal prince being alive to right the wrong he had committed.”

Jeongin gasped, sitting up straight in surprise. “That seems like a stupid possibility to overlook.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Jeongin.” You chuckled. “It was quite by chance that I noticed the discrepancy, but yes. Chris’ curse will be obsolete if you undo the spell you wrongly cast.”

He shrugged, leaning back against the chair. “How do you propose we do that?”

Y/N’s fingertips pressed against each other, her elbows balanced on the table edge. “That warding spell you tried to cast- show me what you did. If we were to find out where you went wrong and undo it, Ataloria must likely be revived.”

Jeongin rubbed the back of his neck in thought, processing Y/N’s words. “How long will it take for you to find my errors?”

“Depends on how long the incantation is. ”

“Then what are we waiting for? You know where the North Tower is.”

“Stars above, Chris is a nasty hellhound for letting you swipe this book,” Y/N cursed, carefully taking the book from him and flipping it open. “This book contains incantations that even the most seasoned spellcasters of the current age can’t cast right.” Jeongin’s shoulders slumped as he took a seat on the floor next to her kneeling form.

Stepping carefully over the throngs of peacefully slumbering people, Jeongin led Y/N up to the North Tower. The room was as he’d left it- chalk smudges and bits of purple wax dotting the floor. Pulling open a dusty drawer, Jeongin picked out the book he’d taken the incantation from.

“I really should have kept my nose out of spellcasting. “He muttered softly, watching her turn the brittle browned pages carefully. “Would have saved the world a lot of trouble.”

“You’re such a self-absorbed little thing,” Y/N quipped, still absorbed in the pages of the spellbook. “This was your destiny, one that Chris wrote for you. You’d have come across spellcasting and fallen in love with its craft in one way or another. Besides, you’re in the presence of a master spellcaster- Oh, is it this one?” Y/N pointed at the page in front of her.

Jeongin nodded miserably. “Yes, that’s the one. This is the modification I came up with.” He pulled out a dog-eared, heavily scribbled piece of paper from between the book’s leaves, handing it to her.

“You’ve got some balls trying this incantation without any formal training, that too with modifications!!” Y/N exclaimed, scanning the pages of the incantation. “I’m surprised that an eternal sleep is all you caused after ruining it.If you had cast this right, it would have completely removed the possibility of a siege on Ataloria’s borders ever again.”

“I know. That was why I took the risk of casting it. It would have been ideal to protect the borders.”

“No, you don’t get it.” She spared him a glance laden with calculated curiosity, “This spell is extremely volatile, because of the number of variables it includes- even more so with your changes. It’s strong enough to ward away any mortal or spellcaster who isn’t welcome within its borders. This could decimate the spellcaster siege, if you recast it right. It’s… It’s genius. You’re better than I anticipated.”

“It was all for naught, I ruined it regardless,” Jeongin sighed. “If you’re that good of a spellcaster, can you undo and recast the spell instead?”

“I am still a spirit, so the doors to these kinds of spellcasting are closed to me.” You frowned. “It will take me a long time and power I am yet to find to cast a body for myself, so the fastest way to revive Ataloria would be for you to undo the spell with my guidance.”

An iceberg lodged itself into Jeongin’s heart at the thought of having to cast a spell again. He swallowed thickly, the fear turning his thoughts slow and sluggish. “I’m not sure that is a good idea. I’m clearly not meant to dabble in spellcasting, I’m but a mortal-”

“Does spellcasting make your blood sing, Jeongin?”

It only took Jeongin a split- second’s thought to answer her question. “Yes.”

“Then why must you be scared of failure?” Y/N’s eyebrow arched. “Even spellcasters make mistakes. That doesn’t stop us from pursuing the craft, does it? Also..you’re not alone now, Jeongin.” She placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “ This craft was never meant to be exclusive. I knew mortal spellcasters who bent energy to their will much better than many spellcasters by blood. You’re a natural at this. I believe in you.”

Jeongin’s face crumpled as a few tears escaped his eyes unbidden. The idea of pursuing spellcasting beyond a hidden passion sent a thrill through his body despite the havoc his previous attempt had caused. The possibility of failure, as daunting as it was, only pushed him to practice more, be better- He wiped the tears away. If not for himself, at least for the good of Ataloria...

“Are you certain that this spell could protect Ataloria from future harm?”

“Absolutely. I’m sure of it.” she sounded confident; Jeongin had no reason to distrust her.

“You truly believe that I can undo the spell ?”

Y/N stood up, the book in one hand as she held out the other for him to take. “I do. Are you up for the challenge, Your Highness?” She used the title like a teasing nickname, her eyes creasing into a smile as Jeongin took her hand, hauling himself to his feet.

“As much as I’ll ever be.”

7-JEONGIN

“Do you remember everything I told you?” Y/N leaned against the door of the North Tower, watching closely as Jeongin went through the same preparations as last night. The pentagram and sigils drawn, the crystals and candles laid out, Y/N’s paper of corrections and developments on the new spell clutched in Jeongin’s hand.

“Yes, I think so.” He huffed out a breath, the air fogging in front of him. The sun had set, giving way to the twilight darkness. This night was eerily similar to the night before- the sun was high in the sky, the stars against the cloudless sky. But tonight, his kingdom’s fate hung in the balance, because a group of magical elitists couldn’t admit defeat.

“Thank you, Y/N.” His gratitude clearly caught Y/N off-guard, judging from her widened eyes and parted lips. “Oh- I-”

His thoughts wandered to the people that lay deep in slumber around the castle and the kingdom- his people. Their fate and safety lay in his untrained novice spellcaster hands. Jeongin’s jaw tightened, his resolve strengthened. He would do everything right this time around, no matter what it took. For his people.

Before she could answer, a resounding boom ripped through the tower, shaking the floor under their feet. Amidst the pebbles and tiles falling from the ceiling, Jeongin saw Y/N hurry to the window in the tower wall, her expression shifting from confusion to fury.

“Chris realized his mistake.” The words sent a chill down Jeongin’s spine. The energy-sucking feeling he’d felt in Chris’ presence was one he did not wish to encounter again-

“I’ll hold him off,” Y/N’s brow and wrists blazed in the same icy blue fire he’d seen that morning, her silver eyes flashing dangerously. “No matter what, don’t step out of the room, do you understand?”

That was when Jeongin saw the silver line etched at the entrance of the door, a flare of silvery energy encompassing the entire room around him- A forcefield. Y/N stood on the other side, her voice loud yet muffled as another explosion rocked the foundations of the tower. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JEONGIN??”

The energy that picked up around him was as wild as he remembered, a hurricane almost throwing him off his feet from the time he uttered the first words. If anything, it was almost chaotic, the wind screaming in his ears as he struggled to keep the incantation running. It was almost like the energy did not wish to be undone, rebelling against his attempts to right the wrong.

“YES, YES I DO!” He yelled, lunging for the spellbook that had fallen to the floor. He had no time to spare, maybe if he worked the incantation fast enough no harm would befall Y/N or his people, there were his people in the castle, he couldn’t mess up-

He could hear the distant crackle of fire and the screech of metal outside the forcefield- Y/N was making good on her word. It would only be fitting if he did the same.

8- Y/N

You dodged another arrow of ice, a hiss slipping through your teeth as you pulled yourself to your feet. “Tired already little one?” Chris called out, his fists ablaze with red-tinted ice. His eyes blazed a bright silver, almost white as he advanced towards you.

“You wish, blood traitor,” You snarled back, tossing a wave of shadow energy at Chris, but he only danced out of range. “It seems to be so!” He cackled, another gust of energy pushing you backwards on the smooth marble.

The two of you stood at the entrance to the North Tower, right outside the forcefield you’d left around Jeongin. You could only hope that he was doing everything you told him to do. You gritted your teeth, rallying what was left of your magic. Yelina’s body was strong, but she wasn’t a spellcaster. The constant magic use was taking a toll on her while the stress of inhabiting a mortal body taking a toll on you. Your magic wasn’t made to inhabit a mortal body for too long-you could only hope that the two of you held out long enough to give Jeongin the time he needed…It was time for some old-fashioned trickery.

“You can’t get through the forcefield I put around him even if you get past me, Chris. It’s beyond your capabilities.” You grinned at the way Chris’ eyes narrowed. You’d hit the right nerve. “I know for a fact you’re too proud to bring any of your heathens with you,” you taunted further, revelling in his clenched fists. “Keep your nasty tongue to yourself, Y/N-”

“You were embarrassed by the loophole you left, weren’t you?” the mocking sweetness in your tone had a growl ripping out of Chris’ throat, an angry vine of energy flying towards you. You ducked, allowing it to break through the plaster and cement of the wall behind you, a raucous laugh bubbling up your throat. Keep him occupied, keep him occupied until Jeongin completes the incantation-

“You came here alone to fix it. You’re just as I remember, Courtesan,” you exclaimed, dancing out of the way of Chris’ attacks, until one flash of lightning caught you unawares, slamming you against the wall. Chris’s purple hair was almost black in the darkness as he materialized in front of you, his snarl showing pulled back teeth ready to pounce. His hand tightened around your neck, squeezing slowly. “I should have killed you that day in the throne room-”

“ Social climbing, greedy, proud,” you choked on the little remaining air you had left in your lungs, defiantly staring Chris down. “Always overshadowed, can’t do a single thing right-”

“You little-”

Your eyes screwed shut, waiting for the final blow- which never came.

9-JEONGIN

“You- There��s no way you reversed the spell-” Chris screamed, his silvery bright eyes almost white in the moonlight darkness. He could feel Chris’ magic rebel against his own, the intensity almost enough to make Jeongin see stars, but he held on. His magic’s grip tightened on Chris, who choked and spluttered to silence.

“You’re not welcome here, Chris.” Jeongin’s voice was louder than he thought, bolts of magic bodily pulling him away from Y/N. She slumped to the ground, coughing and spluttering, but his attention was speared upon the thrashing man in the clutches of Jeongin’s roiling magic.

“Y/N told me you had a chronic problem of underestimating people.” He sounded calm, almost conversational to his own ears. How was he so calm?

“I must agree for tonight, a foolish mortal boy will be the reason for your downfall. I hope your entire association remembers that before ever thinking of laying siege upon my kingdom again. Leave, Chris. And never return.”

“I would not lay my bets on that, mortal scum.” Chris snarled, finally finding his tongue before dissolving into thin air, Jeongin’s magic letting him leave. The castle was alive yet again, with faint murmurs and loud screams. He could hear the sound of life everywhere- and it finally hit him. He succeeded.

An incredulous laugh spilled from his throat, almost instinctively moving towards Y/N as his grin grew wider. He’d succeeded, he saved them, he did it all by himself-

He knelt before her, gently helping her sit up and open her eyes.. Dark eyes that were decidedly not the silver he’d gotten accustomed to. It was Yelina that stared back at him, not Y/N- her eyes narrowed in exhaustion, the previous injuries inflicted by the fight against Chris nowhere to be seen.

“Y-Your Highness?” Yelina’s Isles accent was back in full force, and it was all he could do to school his face into a mask of bland relief. His tongue instantly cooked up a suitable lie for their location while his mind raced- where was Y/N? Why did she disappear ? Did he do something wrong again?

Until he heard it.

A husky, haunting melody that seemed to echo from within the walls of the castle, the sad melody sounding unmistakably joyous to his ears. Y/N hadn’t left, he realized. She was right here, as she always was. Her curse was weakened, she’d said- not broken. She was still a prisoner of The Rose Palace.

Jeongin smiled a secret smile to himself as he led Yelina back into the castle, a quiet promise made between him and the moon- one day soon, he’d break the curse on Y/N. And that day would come very, very soon.

Wise men say, only fools rush in

Thank you for reading! :)

But I can’t help falling in love with you..

///

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