#its not going very quickly but those are two different translations

[myroommatehoneydew]

Honey sometimes takes odd jobs as building inspector

She approves!

Bonus:

Mysterious creature box also inspected

[her-satanic-wiles]

Masterlist ⛧ Lost in Translation Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Words: 12.4k.

Reading Time: 50 min.

Warnings: begging, cock warming, creampie, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, hair pulling, marking, mentions of masturbation, mild pain kink, mild salirophilia, moderately underprepared penetration (but no pain), multiple scenes, nipple play, penetrative sex, praise kink, so much whimpering omfg, unprotected sex (cover the bone to slide it home, bro), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

Taglist: @zombiesnips-blog @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @ellenokumura @thew0man @sodoswitchimage @the-real-eggplany @deathmimedream @love-is-all-you-need-13 @kadedoesthings @rosyerato @xshadylady @popiaswife @perpetratorwithaquill @punkiy50 @onlyhereforghost @kaijukimchi @copiaspet622

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

🔞 MDNI 🔞

One moment you were in the peace and tranquility of the Ministry’s library, the next you were in the Ministry’s personal plane getting ready to land in Heathrow Airport, with Cardinal Copia by your side. The flight from Rome to London was wonderfully short, ticking in at just two and a half hours long. Plenty of time for you to go over the notes you made at school on Hebrew, more specifically the ancient Hebrew that you required in order to translate Abrahamic texts to Ministry-standard levels.

Ancient Hebrew was much more difficult for you to learn, given that it was an entirely different alphabet to the one you were used to. The script used during ancient times, particularly during the First Temple period, had a more pictographic nature, not entirely unlike Ancient Egyptian. During the 1st century CE, the Hebrew language was undergoing a significant transformation and coexisted with other languages in the region. Biblical Hebrew was more akin to modern day Hebrew which allowed you some crossovers in your day-to-day studies, but it was still very different in most aspects.

The Ministry, as it was open to everyone from all walks of life, held so much diversity between its unhallowed walls, it was beautiful. There were languages spoken from all over the world, but in order to unify everyone and make communication easier, Italian was the main language, followed by Latin, then English, then other denominations. The Church revelled in the chaos created by such a diverse cast of characters - and for a long time allowed everyone to just play the conversation by ear. In essence, you’d watch someone open their mouth and pray to Lucifer that they were about to speak in a language that you understood. It wasn’t until Mama Ardens II reigned in the late 15th Century that she introduced the official language of Italian. This was challenged by some members of the clergy as it was “too Catholic”, but there was a reason her name was Ardens and she shut the clergy up pretty quickly.

During the flight, you could feel the weight of the Cardinal’s eyes upon you, burning through you like Hellfire upon the skin of the worst sinners. The majority of the time, you’d catch him looking at your papers, as if he was refamiliarising himself with Ancient Hebrew too. But there was the odd occasion when your eyes locked with his, and he panicked and turned away, pretending as though he was looking at something else behind you. The act itself made you so, very aware of your appearance. What could he possibly be staring at? And why? You found yourself wiping something from your face just to be sure you didn’t have anything on it.

“Scusi, Sorella.” The Cardinal said, interrupting your studying with a gloved tap to your shoulder. You looked at him, the haze of the ancient world fading with each passing second. “This is Hebrew, sì?”

You stared at him blankly for a second before answering. “Yes, Your Dark Eminence.”

He nodded. “It looks like Ancient Phoenician.”

“You know Ancient Phoenician?”

“A little. I went through a phase in my teens where I wanted to be different. Everyone else knew Latin and Greek, I wanted Latin and Phoenician.”

You laughed. “I think everyone goes through that phase when they’re a teen.”

“Probably. The alphabets are the same, no?”

“No, actually. They’re very similar, but they’re not copies of one another. What modern historians refer to as the “Paleo-Hebrew” alphabet was used by some of Abraham’s children. The Phoenician alphabet and the Paleo-Hebrew alphabet were pretty much the same alphabet, despite possible tiny differences in the letterforms, but every language spoken by the Canaanites shared this alphabet. Even the Arameans made use of it. It wasn’t invented by the Phoenicians or even by Abraham’s children. Most likely it was a group of early, unnamed Canaanites that we’ve no evidence for… yet.”

“Does it function the same way?”

“I don’t know enough about Ancient Phoenician to tell you either way, but,” you picked up your sheet of paper that helped translate the Hebrew to the Latin alphabet and handed it to the Cardinal, “you’re more than welcome to figure that out for yourself.”

He perused the sheet in front of him for a short while, getting to grips with the look of it. Every now and then, little hums of understanding would spill involuntarily from his lips, each one making your heart soar with adoration.

The world’s impressions of the Cardinal often exaggerated his behaviour. He demonstrated a sweetness that spoke to his true nature, far from the menacing figure many had imagined.

The Cardinal was an introverted man who took comfort in his own company, just like you. Even though he was capable of being an ambiverted position when called for, it was obvious that he valued solitude over social interactions. It felt as though he was choosing to be alone, and it went beyond simple preference to suggest a deeper, complex side to his nature.

The truth, sadly, appeared to be a little grimmer. Sister Aisha, who was known for her direct and sometimes sarcastic comments, did not hold back when she called the Cardinal “a creepy old man.” And made no attempts to hide any contempt she held for him, but she was one of many who felt exactly the same way.

The daily peeks into his life revealed an odd habit: a Ghoul snatching his meals from the kitchens and slipping them into his office. His life of isolation not only shielded him from the Ministry’s scrutiny but also added to the mysterious atmosphere that enveloped him.

People often treated their future leader with a certain amount of condescension, either not realising his potential or brushing it off completely. They were unable to see his character’s depth and his hidden strength. It was as if they only saw the surface—a man who didn’t fit the Ministry’s stereotypical image of power.

You would see the eye rolling, the dismissive gestures, and the sporadic scoffs aimed at him. The insensitive treatment looked to be the result of ignorance, an inability to realise the importance hidden behind his modest demeanour. The Cardinal had to deal with the disdainful attitudes of those around him in his earlier days, while others in similar positions might have commanded immediate respect.

But there was something about him which you saw that others missed. You had a gut feeling that there was more to this modest person than first appeared. Feeling sympathy for the Cardinal and believing he deserved better than the casual remarks and sidelong looks, you watched the irritating treatment take place.

The Ministry had no idea that hiding beneath that seemingly ordinary man was the potential for a strong leader. The future Cardinal Copia would eventually triumph over the criticism and unpleasant treatment, demonstrating that genuine strength frequently hides in a person’s depths, ready to be revealed when the time was right.

And a different Cardinal showed up in those moments when he wasn’t burdened by the duties of leadership and he allowed himself to converse. His kindness came through; his soft-spoken manner revealed the fragility beneath the surface of power. It became clear that the Cardinal was a complicated person who was oversimplified in the eyes of the world to be a stoic, unapproachable figure.

Being in the background gave you the opportunity to observe the Church’s internal drama, the shenanigans, and the power struggles without taking an active part in them. It was a position of quiet strength, where your biggest advantage became your understanding and awareness of the inner workings of the Ministry.

The Cardinal’s lack of notice meant freedom from unnecessary attention. You could spend your time reading the ancient books, exploring the archaic library, and performing your tasks without having to deal with the spotlight. The shadows offered a certain safety, a place where you could pursue your curiosity without being distracted by people.

In quieter moments, among the centuries-old books and dimly lit hallways of the Ministry, there was a faint longing, a yearning for a relationship that went beyond the pages of forbidden knowledge. There were times when you wished the Cardinal would give you that elusive, uneven smile, even though you cherished the safety of anonymity and the cover of darkness.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you dreamed that the Cardinal would acknowledge you in a way that went beyond the standard Ministry exchanges. You yearned for some small act that displayed a great deal in the calm language of desire, something that would bring back memories of old-fashioned chivalry.

You imagined a moment when the Cardinal, freed from the restraints of rank, would hold your hand with a tenderness suiting the moment. You’d read about such actions in the romance books that lined the library’s shelves: a gentleman’s kiss upon a lady’s hand, as a sign of affection and a modest declaration of a relationship that went beyond the everyday.

However, these moments remained unattainable since the intricate web of the Cardinal’s ascent to importance and the manipulations of the Ministry. The reality of your job as an archivist at the Ministry’s library clashed regularly with the dreams that danced in the corners of your mind. Your dreams were tucked between the shelves like a bookmark between book pages.

It was enough to send previous incarnations of yourself into a near-coma of shock to learn that the Cardinal was not only aware of your existence but actively seeking your aid for a mission to London. A storm of emotions mixed disbelief and excitement at the thought that your unnoticed presence had attracted the attention of the Church’s leader. It seemed like a strange transition from being a quiet observer to a major role in a clandestine mission—a story arc that went against the expectations of the once-quiet guardian.

As the jet streaked through the sky, carrying you and the Cardinal into to the fascinating depths of London, you found yourself suddenly drawn away from your usual scholarly pursuits. Rather than immersing yourself in the ancient Hebrew texts that waited for you in the city, you were chatting with the Cardinal informally, like you were the closest, lifelong friends that could ever be.

You were sitting side by side in the cramped plane, and you pulled out a notebook with Hebrew idioms and symbols in it. The aircraft’s steady hum provided a unique setting for this unusual classroom, where the Cardinal—who wasn’t exactly famed for his mysterious charm—became a passionate learner.

You patiently explained the complexities of the old Hebrew language to the Cardinal. As you clarified their meanings and intricacies, the characters—each bearing a history and resonance from millennia ago—took on new life. With a mixture of passion and nervousness the Cardinal tried to imitate the characters in his trademark clumsy charm. That was to say, he got things wrong… a lot.

The unexpected language lesson had led to a moment of shared laughter, a welcome respite from the weight of ancient texts and scholarly pursuits. After one particularly amusing mistake, the laughter gradually subsided, giving way to a comfortable silence. In that quietude, an unspoken connection lingered in the air.

As you glanced over your notes, the Cardinal’s gaze shifted, and when you looked up, you found his eyes fixed upon you. The atmosphere seemed to shift, charged with a subtle energy that transcended the boundaries of mere camaraderie. His gaze, softer and more contemplative than before, held an unspoken sentiment that eluded easy definition.

His eyes traced the contours of your face with a newfound tenderness, and there was a momentary pause, as if time itself had hesitated to acknowledge the shift in dynamics. A gentle intensity lingered in the air, and his gaze descended to your lips with a soft, unspoken longing.

Unaware of the subtle shift in the Cardinal’s demeanour, you continued to meet his eyes with an easygoing smile. The shared laughter had forged a connection, and the silence that followed seemed to amplify the unspoken nuances lingering between you.

For the Cardinal, the moment held a depth of emotion that he struggled to articulate. His eyes conveyed a silent contemplation, and in that fleeting silence, there was a desire—subtle, yet palpable. The notion of a kiss hovered in the unspoken spaces between you, a sentiment that had yet to find expression in words.

As the plane continued its journey toward London, the Cardinal’s gaze remained soft, a reflection of the newfound connection forged in the unexpected intimacy of the language lesson. Little did you know that this unspoken exchange would linger as a subtle undercurrent, shaping the course of the journey that awaited you in the heart of the ancient city.

The announcement of the impending landing interrupted the quiet exchange between you and the Cardinal. With a shared understanding, and an awkward clearing of the Cardinal’s throat, you both began the task of clearing away the notes, neatly organizing the scattered papers that documented your linguistic exploration. The air hostess moved through the cabin, her voice announcing the approaching descent and the estimated time until landing.

As the plane touched down in London, the anticipation of the journey ahead resonated in the air. Your bags, along with the majority of the Cardinal’s Ghouls—Swiss, Aurora, Cirrus, and Phantom, as you noted—were efficiently handled and transported to the hotel. The remaining Ghouls accompanied you and the Cardinal, ready to delve into the mysteries held within the Crimson Archives.

Exiting the airport, the chill of the London air greeted you, a stark contrast to the climate you had left behind. The Ghouls maintained an eerie silence as they efficiently guided you and the Cardinal toward the awaiting vehicle. The journey to the Crimson Archives unfolded, the city’s landmarks passing by in a blur of history and modernity.

The Crimson Archives, a repository of knowledge and secrets, awaited your exploration. The Cardinal, his curiosity undiminished, glanced toward you with a glint of excitement in his eyes. The Ghouls, ever vigilant, maintained a discreet presence, their loyalty to the Cardinal evident in every step.

As you approached the entrance, the imposing facade of the archives loomed overhead, a testament to the weight of the knowledge contained within its walls. The building itself was designed in the typical Edwardian Baroque fashion, a classic from the 1600s that had made its way all across Europe to decorate the streets of the well-to-do, adding a sense of grandeur. The white exterior was profanely white, as though someone was out with a toothbrush every single day, cleaning the brickwork and repainting it to hide any and all blemishes.

The monochromatic exterior was interrupted only by the double-doored entrance, a vivid splash of red staining the wood. The crimson hue, reminiscent of dried blood, served as a stark reminder that beyond those doors lay the repository of forbidden knowledge—the Crimson Archives.

As you approached the entrance, the weight of anticipation hung in the air. The Ghouls, their presence silent and imposing, flanked you and the Cardinal, their loyalty a reassuring presence. The red doors creaked open, inviting you to step into the enigmatic world that awaited beyond.

Crossing the threshold, you entered a realm where time seemed to stand still. The interior, bathed in a muted light that filtered through stained glass windows, exuded an air of reverence. The scent of ancient parchment and weathered leather permeated the air, as if the very essence of knowledge clung to the surroundings.

Rows of towering bookshelves lined the expansive space, each shelf bearing the weight of countless tomes. Dust motes danced in the filtered sunlight, adding a touch of magic to the ambiance. The hallowed halls echoed with the whispers of the past, inviting you to unravel the secrets concealed within the carefully preserved volumes.

As you and the Cardinal ventured deeper into the Crimson Archives, the architectural beauty and the solemnity of the surroundings intensified. The knowledge held within these walls spanned centuries, and the building itself stood as a testament to the reverence bestowed upon the pursuit of wisdom.

Every step further into the archives felt like a journey through time, a pilgrimage into the mysteries that lay dormant, waiting to be unearthed. The building, with its timeless design and meticulous preservation, stood as a guardian of the secrets you sought, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of history that had left its mark on every page within.

The interior of the Crimson Archives continued the theme of elegant austerity with a predominantly monochromatic palette. An airy atmosphere that encircled the room in a timeless hug, was created by the towering bookshelves’ shadows dancing across the white walls.

The black accents, whether in the form of wrought-iron railings or the dark frames of portraits lining the walls, added a touch of sophistication to the otherwise pristine interior. The interplay of light and dark accentuated the architectural details, casting a mysterious allure that beckoned those who dared to explore further.

Crimson red, the color that lent the archives its name, punctuated the surroundings like droplets of blood against a canvas of parchment. The rich hue adorned draperies that framed arched windows, lending a warm contrast to the cool tones dominating the space. Plush rugs underfoot absorbed the echo of footsteps, muffling sound and enhancing the sense of reverence.

Wooden furnishings, stained with a reddish tint, added to the overall warmth of the archives. The bookshelves, meticulously organized and towering towards the ceiling, featured rich, dark wood that cradled the weight of centuries-old knowledge. Each shelf, each tome, seemed to radiate history, promising a journey through time with every page turned.

The two of you stood before the unattended front desk, the absence of any library staff adding an extra layer of mystery to the already cryptic atmosphere. The desk, pristine and uncluttered, awaited the presence of a librarian or archivist to assist in navigating the vast sea of knowledge housed within the Crimson Archives.

All was vacant save for the single silver bell that guarded the area. Gleaming like a beacon in the poorly lit surroundings, its smooth surface reflected the surrounding light. Beside it was a plain note with a clear instruction in exquisite script, “Ring for assistance.”

“What kind of cult have we walked into?” You asked, taking in your surroundings.

The Cardinal noticed your unease, and rested his hand on your shoulder. “This sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke, no? Two Satanists walk into a cult’s archives…”

You chuckled, feeling a little calmer. As you reached for the bell, a faint sense of anticipation hung in the air. The Cardinal observed with a mix of curiosity and amusement, perhaps intrigued by the prospect of unraveling the secrets within the hallowed halls of the Crimson Archives. With a gentle tap of your finger against the silver surface, a melodious chime echoed through the silence, resonating with the reverence of ages past.

The sound lingered for a moment before dissipating into the air, leaving a quiet expectancy in its wake. The hushed whispers of pages turning and the distant creak of aging wood filled the void, creating an ambiance that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the written word.

Eventually, a Lord Worthington waddled forward, his ample belly preceding him. He was indeed bald, with a shiny forehead that reflected the overhead lights. His round face was flushed, and beads of perspiration adorned his bald pate. Despite his portly appearance, there was an air of joviality about him. He sported a finely groomed, gray mustache that curled at the ends, giving him a somewhat eccentric air. Lord Worthington was the founder of the Crimson Archives - essentially a personal collection of ancient artifacts and texts belonging to a man with too much money in his bank account.

“Your Dark Eminence!” he exclaimed, extending a plump hand towards the Cardinal. His fingers were adorned with several ornate rings, and he wore a cream-colored waistcoat that strained against the girth of his belly. Each word he spoke seemed to be accompanied by a cough, as if his excitement and his respiratory system were engaged in a perpetual tug-of-war. Lord Worthington’s eyes twinkled with a mix of reverence and genuine enthusiasm as he quickly shook the Cardinal’s hand, hard enough to shake his entire body. “It’s an absolute pleasure to have you here at the Crimson Archives, sir! What a delightful encounter. I suppose you’re here for that Eden book, yes?”

“Sì. If you could take us to it, that would be helpful.”

Lord Worthington beamed, his excitement undeterred by the Cardinal’s succinct response. “Of course, Your Dark Eminence! Right this way!”

He led you and Cardinal Copia, and by extension, the Ghouls, through the labyrinthine corridors of the Crimson Archives. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper, and the occasional cough from Lord Worthington punctuated the quiet rustle of unseen activity. You couldn’t help but marvel at the vastness of the collection and the meticulously organized shelves that seemed to stretch into infinity.

After what felt like a journey through time itself with the Lord talking to you both about the history of the archives, Lord Worthington stopped before a particularly ornate set of double doors. The crimson theme persisted here, with intricate patterns etched into the dark wood. He produced a set of antique keys, each one adorned with a different emblem, and selected the appropriate one to unlock the doors.

“Here we are, Your Dark Eminence, Sister,” he announced, ushering you into a room that seemed plucked from a forgotten era. The smell of aged parchment was more pronounced here, and the room was illuminated by the warm glow of antique chandeliers. Ornate bookshelves lined the walls, each one crammed with dusty tomes that bore the weight of centuries.

“In this chamber, we keep some of our most prized possessions. May I present to you, Eden’s Veiled Chronicles,” Lord Worthington gestured towards a display case in the center of the room. Inside, under the protective gaze of glass, rested an ancient manuscript bound in cracked leather and adorned with faded symbols.

The Cardinal’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “May we…?” he began, gesturing towards the display case.

“Of course, Your Eminence! Feel free to examine it as closely as you’d like. It’s an honor to have you here,” Lord Worthington responded, his voice filled with genuine reverence.

As you delicately extracted the Chronicles from its protective casing, a sense of reverence settled in the air. The ancient manuscript, veiled in the passage of time, revealed itself in all its glory.

The cover, made of cracked leather with an otherworldly patina, cradled the secrets within. Faded symbols, once vibrant, adorned the surface, telling a story of eras long past. The leather, though aged, retained a certain suppleness, a testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone age.

Upon opening the cover, the parchment pages unfolded like the petals of a timeworn flower. The script, a dance of ink on the vellum, told the tale of Eden’s secrets. The language was fluid, an intricate dance of ancient Hebrew, and the illustrations, though faded, spoke of a world unseen.

The Chronicles bore the marks of countless hands that had touched its pages over the centuries. Annotations in different hands adorned the margins, an ongoing conversation across the ages. Fragments of commentary in Latin, Aramaic, and even Phoenician wove together a tapestry of understanding and interpretation.

The illustrations, a blend of artistic expression and symbolic representation, depicted scenes from the Garden of Eden not commonly known. Angels, serpents, and enigmatic figures danced across the pages, each stroke of ink telling a story lost to common narratives.

As you turned the pages with the utmost care, the scent of ancient wisdom, a mixture of parchment and the faintest whisper of long-gone eras, wafted through the air. The Chronicles seemed to exhale the secrets it held, secrets waiting to be unveiled to those who sought knowledge beyond the veil of conventional understanding.

The Cardinal leaned in, his eyes tracing the ancient words and symbols with a mixture of awe and curiosity. In order to get as close as possible, you felt his hand on the small of your back, then his fingertips dancing towards your waist, pulling you closer to him. Ordinarily, this would infuriate you, but as it was the Cardinal’s hand clutching onto your body, you found your cheeks flushing. Lord Worthington watched, his coughs momentarily silenced in the presence of such historical significance.

“It’s extraordinary.” The Cardinal said, enthralled by its enigmatic histories that he was unable to decipher.

“It’s so well preserved, Your Dark Eminence,” you told him, equally magnitised, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“How long do you think it would take you to translate it?”

“I couldn’t say - maybe a few months. But I’m so excited to get started. Look here,” you pointed to a passage that you were the only one able to understand, “it’s the story of Lilith and how she fell from Yhwh’s graces!”

“Straordinario! What’s the story?”

“Well, it starts how we’re used to reading it: created from Adam’s rib, refused to be subservient, was kicked out of Eden. But we never truly learned what happened to Her afterwards. There’s something in here about the Dark One finding Her, reviving Her with water, and taking Her to Hell with Him - but I’ll need my notes to understand the specifics. It sounds more like a love story than anything else. I’m so excited.”

You finally looked up at the Cardinal, whose eyes were fixated on your face again. His pupils were dilated significantly, as he stared at your face - eyes lingering a little to long on your lips. His hand, which was still around your waist, had tightened its grip and subconsciously pulled you closer to him. You could feel his rapid heartbeat through his cassock, feel the heat of his nervousness emanating from him like a radiator. You felt lured to lean in closer, to feel his warm breath on his cheek, to taste his lips that no doubt still tasted like the coffee he drank earlier. Your eyes were searching in his for something, anything - maybe even a bit of confidence to do what you’d been longing to do the moment you saw him. You did. You allowed your head to lean in just a tad. You were so close to him.

His breath.

His hand.

His -

A cough brought you out of whatever spell the Cardinal had put you under, and you both backed away from each other as quickly as you could. The Cardinal’s eyes were shifty and nervous, while your lips were caught between your teeth in disbelief. That was the closest you’d ever been to him, and the pull of something more was so unbearable it almost clouded your judgment.

You were about to kiss your boss’ boss’ boss, in an archive that didn’t belong to you, holding a 1500-year-old text about the creators of your faith. Your cheeks filled with embarrassment at the thought of Lord Worthington watching this happen right in front of him, and being the one to wheeze his way into breaking up the spectacle.

Naturally, a man who held a lot of money wouldn’t let something so valuable go out of the kindness of his heart. The British Aristocracy had no idea what kindness even meant - everything they did was for the good of their bank account. The Chronicles belonged in the Ministry and the Ministry’s archives. It was an important piece of religious history that needed to be with its siblings and on display for everyone to see, not just the obscenely rich. It took a lot of negotiating to get Lord Worthington to agree to a price that didn’t absolutely bankrupt the Church, with a little extra intimidation provided by Mountain in order to sweeten the deal. But, this important piece of history now belonged to the Ministry, the acquisition was finalised, and the next day you’d both be returning back to Rome.

The hotel, an opulent sanctuary nestled in the heart of London, exuded an air of grandeur that resonated with the city’s rich history. As you and the Cardinal entered the lavish establishment, the grand foyer unfolded before you in a symphony of elegance.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow that danced upon the intricately patterned carpets below. The walls adorned with historical tapestries whispered tales of the past, and the subdued lighting added a touch of mystique to the atmosphere.

The concierge, clad in a tailored uniform, greeted you with a courteous smile before he led the way through ornate corridors adorned with classical artwork, creating an ambiance that blended the contemporary with the timeless. You marveled at the seamless fusion of luxury and tradition, a setting befitting the dignitaries and scholars who sought refuge within its walls.

In the quiet solitude of your room, you took a moment to marvel at the view from the window. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a testament to London’s vibrant energy. The bed, adorned with plush linens, promised a night of restful repose.

You took off your veil, rolled up your habit’s sleeves, and combed your hair back from your face. Lying on the polished desk like a quiet oracle waiting to reveal its secrets was the text, a relic of antiquated wisdom, persuading you to get straight to work. Bathed in the soft light of well-placed lamps, the room filled you with the anticipation of discovery.

You didn’t realise that time had passed you by in all the hours you spent hunched over your desk. You only noticed it was dark outside when a gentle knock at the door pulled you out of your work, and you’d already translated the first two chapters. You stood and opened the door to reveal the Cardinal standing there, awkward as ever, holding a plastic bag in his gloved hands. “Ah, Sorella!” He greeted. He was about to say something when he saw your appearance. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he felt his mouth go dry. There was something so intoxicating about your dishevelled appearance and sleepy, work-tired eyes, he found it difficult to string even the simplest of sentences together. “Y-you had disappeared for a few hours, I assumed you had begun working on the text, sì?”

“Oh, yes, Your Dark Eminence. Sorry, I lost track of time.”

The Cardinal smiled. “I thought you might. And, call me Copia, please. Only if you want to, of course. The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. But I would prefer you to call me Copia.”

“Copia.” You said softly, feeling the name on the tip of your tongue and getting used to it. You opened the door. “Please, come in.”

“Ah, sì, grazie. I have brought, uh, Chinese food. I thought you might be hungry. I brought some for myself, too. I was, uh - I was hoping to join you. But, i-if you don’t want me to then I’ll get my stuff and go - nessun problema.”

“No, I’d like that… you to join me, I mean.”

Copia smiled and let out a soft and breathy laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You said, copying everything he just did without realising. For some reason, you felt nervous at this exchange. Your heart was light yet pulsating quickly in your chest as you set up the coffee table with the food.

“After dinner,” Copia began, “I was hoping to see what you’d completed so far. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Your Dark… Copia.”

Copia laughed at the way you corrected yourself.

Once the table was set up for dinner, the two of you began to tuck in on the feast. You didn’t realise until the first bite just how hungry you actually were.

The warmth of the Chinese food filled the room, accompanied by the quiet clinking of cutlery against porcelain. The atmosphere shifted from scholarly concentration to a more casual friendly conversation as you and Copia shared the simple pleasure of a shared meal. The fragrant aroma of the dishes mingled with the heady scent of ancient texts, creating an eclectic symphony that defined this unique moment in time.

Copia, despite his position as a Cardinal and leader of the dark congregation, displayed an endearing awkwardness. His genuine attempts at conversation and the occasional nervous laughter drew a smile from you, making the evening feel remarkably relaxed. It was a side of him that few were privileged to witness, and you found yourself appreciating the authenticity beneath the ceremonial robes.

As you both enjoyed the meal, conversation flowed effortlessly between bites of food and sips of tea. Copia’s inquiries about your progress with the translation prompted you to share the revelations from the Chronicles. The text, a silent witness to millennia, now whispered its secrets to those willing to listen.

After dinner, you guided Copia to the desk where your translation work awaited. The dim light cast a gentle glow on the pages, and as you began to explain the nuances of the ancient script, Copia listened with an attentiveness that transcended his usual awkwardness. His eyes, normally obscured by the dark recesses of Cardinal makeup, displayed a genuine curiosity that mirrored your own.

The Cardinal’s presence brought a new dimension to the room, and the collaborative effort to uncover the mysteries of the Chronicles continued. Together, you and Copia navigated the labyrinthine passages of ancient knowledge, forging a connection that transcended the formalities of your respective roles within the Ministry.

Copia leaned over the desk, his eyes scanning the carefully translated pages of Eden’s Veiled Chronicles. His expression shifted from curiosity to genuine admiration as he perused your meticulous work. The dim light accentuated the lines on his face, adding a touch of vulnerability to the Cardinal’s usual composed demeanour.

“Sorella, this is exceptional,” he exclaimed, his voice a blend of surprise and appreciation. “Your dedication to this translation is truly commendable. It’s not an easy task, and yet you’ve navigated the intricacies of the text with such finesse.”

A warmth spread through you, a mix of pride and the satisfaction of receiving acknowledgment from someone whose opinion carried weight within the Ministry. Copia’s genuine compliments were like rays of light breaking through the shadows of the ancient library.

“I… thank you, Copia,” you replied, a hint of bashfulness in your voice. “I’m just doing my part.”

He nodded, a genuine smile playing on his lips. “You’re more than just ‘doing your part.’ You’re preserving knowledge, bringing to light the hidden narratives of our beliefs. This text could hold secrets that reshape our understanding of our faith.”

The compliment, spoken with such earnestness, made you appreciate the significance of your work even more. The connection between you and Copia deepened, forged by a shared reverence for the knowledge contained within the Chronicles.

The air in the room seemed to thicken, a charged atmosphere swirling around you and Copia. His eyes, a captivating blend of intensity and vulnerability, met yours with an unspoken question. The uncharted territory of desire loomed between you, and the words hung in the air like a forbidden incantation.

“Sorella,” Copia began, his voice a soft murmur, “I want to kiss you. May I kiss you? If not, that’s okay, I’ll understand.”

Your heart fluttered, caught between the pulse of curiosity and the gravity of the moment. A gentle nod from you granted permission for a connection that transcended the scholarly pursuit of knowledge. Copia approached slowly, bridging the gap with a careful reverence.

His gloved hand brushed against your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. He leaned forward, and the warmth of his presence surrounded you, capturing the silent anticipation of the room. The kiss, tender yet laden with unspoken emotions, sealed a connection that reached beyond the confines of the Crimson Archives.

Time seemed to stand still as you shared that stolen moment, the world outside the hotel room fading away. Copia’s kiss held a delicate balance of longing and restraint, a testament to the complexity of emotions that bound you together. The quiet intimacy unfolded, painting a tapestry of shared desire and the unspoken connection that had blossomed amidst the ancient texts.

As the kiss lingered, a myriad of emotions played out in the silent spaces between breaths. It was a dance of vulnerability and acceptance, the uncharted territory explored with a shared understanding. When the moment finally released its hold, a soft whimper escaped Copia’s lips.

He tried to pull away for a moment, but you didn’t want to. Your hands pulled at his cassock pulling him impossibly closer, refusing to let him disappear too soon. A desperation filled you, a need that had been bubbling under the surface for years and years until it had spilled over between the walls of a beautiful, London hotel room. Copia’s whimper elicited your own, which in turn, did something to him that he hadn’t felt in years, something he thought he’d never feel again.

His own gloved hands tugged at your waist as his tongue slid into your mouth, welcoming him willingly. Warmth pooled in between your legs when he pushed you against the edge of the desk and trapped you between his plush body and the wood. You could feel him growing hard beneath his robes, his centre now flush with yours and rocking against you slightly. He didn’t realise what he was doing until he was mid thrust, and he pulled back from you as though you’d electrocuted him. “Sorella,” his voice was breathless and low, almost growly, “you have to tell me you don’t want this now. Otherwise I won’t stop until I’ve had you.”

The black of his top lips had been completely smudged off, originally from the grease of the Chinese food, but finished by the friction against your lips. His cheeks were flushed purely pink from the embarrassment of his desperation for you, but also from sheer want of your body against his.

“Please don’t stop.” Your voice matched his, except for the little whimper that punctuated the end of the sentence.

Immediately, he attached his lips to yours, a little rougher than before but no less enjoyable. You wrapped your arms around him like a koala clinging to a tree, eyes closing and whimpering at the feeling of Copia’s clothed cock grinding against your sensitive clit. You gripped onto him stiffly, hair standing on end as you felt his lips travel down to the corner of your mouth, then land on your neck and began to lick and kiss at the sensitive spot there.

Copia’s mind forced him to move, despite all the blood being rushed down south and making it difficult to think. He removed his right glove, and dipped his now bare hand under the skirt of your habit. Naked fingertips stroked against a naked thigh, and travelled all the way up to your panties, now soaked with your need for Copia. Those fingers hooked around the gusset of your panties and pulled them to the side, before running along your folds and gathering up your slick. You were dripping for him. So wet you coated his fingers as if he’d just put his fingers into a lake. He’d pulled his cock away from you momentarily so that he could check to see how ready you were for him, but found himself humping against your thigh in his need for pleasure.

“Mi dispiace, amore. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

You reached for his cassock and began undoing as many buttons necessary in order to free him. “Please,” you begged, your voice muffled by the kisses you were giving him, “give it to me. I need to feel you, Copia.”

As soon as he was free, he lined himself up and pushed inside. As soon as he entered you, you watched as his eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open. He was slow at first, aware of the fact that he hadn’t stretched you out before hand and curbing his need for you long enough to not hurt you. But even so, it was a battle against his body. Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders, gripping firmly at the pressure in your cunt, and relaxing around the intrusion. He felt divine, as though he were a puzzle piece slotting into the right place on the board. As though he were made specifically for you. He was long enough to hit your cervix when he’d bottomed out, and thick enough to stretch you, but none of it hurt.

As soon as he’d halfway, he stayed still, capturing your lips in another kiss and licking into your mouth like a starved man; borderline crazy and frantic with his actions. It took him a little while to get the wherewithal to speak, and once he did it was through a breathless and strained voice where he was clearly trying to not cum too soon. “Merda!” He hissed, feeling your tight, wet heat comfortably wrap him. “You are the reason men sin.”

The gravity of his words had you clenching around him, earning a delicious whimper to fall from his lips.

“Non fare così!” He exclaimed through pained laughter., dropping his head back to the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to cum too soon.”

“Copia, please.”

Copia pushed the remainder of his cock inside you, slamming home involuntarily and making both of you moan out in surprised pleasure. Your toes curled at the feeling of the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, and you teethed at his jaw.

His hips began pistoning in and out of you, each thrust slow and hard, driving into you with precision and force. His hands moved to your hips for leverage, creating just a little space between your bodies allowing him to fuck into you like you both needed. His cock filled you so nicely, your back arched and your shoulders rested against the cold wall, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clutched onto his shoulders as though your life depended on it.

The noises Copia was making as he pumped into you were things you’d only heard in your fantasies under the cover of night when you were touching yourself, dreaming of this exact moment. His whimpers; the grunts and groans that escaped him along with the breathy moans and the strings of Italian expletives that made your cunt squeeze around him so impossibly good, dribbles of drool were beginning to spill from the corners of his mouth.

“That’s it, amore.” Copia said breathlessly as he continued to rail you. “St-stretching around my cock. You’re doing so well for me.”

The desk groaned beneath you from the force of Copia’s thrusts and the weight of you and all the desires the two of you harboured for one another. It smacked against the wall repetitively as Copia released all those pent-up feelings and poured them into your soul. His eyes travelled up and down your body, taking in the sinful sight of your clothed breasts bouncing beneath your habit. Your dishevelled appearance that had him blush when he first saw you now had him feral and dying for you with each thrust into the utopia that was your cunt. He could feel himself get more and more addicted to the feel of you. As long as you allowed him, he’d have you every single day.

“Wanted you for so long!” You hurried out, confessing your sins like you were in the booth in the Basilica di Lilith.

“Yeah?” Copia reached down and began playing with your clit. “Is this everything you wished for, amore?”

“Feels so good! Fuck!”

“Pretty little thing, taking my cock so well.” He leaned forward and began kissing and licking at your neck again, pressing himself as close to you as he could without hindering the movements of his fingers against your clit. His bare fingers stroking over your folds sent shivers down your spine. That coupled with the pounding he was giving you and you didn’t stand a chance. It was a matter of minutes before you came all over his cock, seconds if he moved just a little bit faster.

You suddenly became hyper aware of the papers below you, strewn about across the desk messily. Thankfully the Chronicles were safe on the other side of the desk, but your translations were at risk of flooding if you didn’t say something. But the words died in your throat when you tried to ask Copia to move. They couldn’t leave your mouth because the angle he was hitting you at was just so good, it left you gasping for air and loudly moaning into his ear.

“So beautiful.” Copia said, muffled by your skin. By now his words were slurred and his thrusts were erratic, his fingers the only appendage responding to their fullest capacity because your orgasm was on the line. “I want you to cum, amore. Cum on my cock. All over my fingers. You’re already so nice and wet for me. Let’s see if you can get wetter.”

“Fuck, Copia!”

“That’s it - say my name.”

“Copia!”

“Again, amore!”

“Fuck! Copia! I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it. Such a good girl. Cum for me.”

The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you came harder than you had in Lucifer knew how long. Touching yourself to the thought of Copia turned out to be nothing like the real thing - the way his body slotted so perfectly between your legs was nothing short of a curse, because you knew now that nothing else would ever be the same. Nothing else would make you feel as good. No one else could ever take care of you the way he could. As you came around his cock, he talked you through it, planting kisses on your exposed skin and holding you close to him, all the while not letting his fingers rest until you pushed him away from you.

Then, it was his turn. With a strangled groan that poured into your mouth like the sweetest nectar, he emptied himself inside of you. He whimpered pathetically with each thrust, almost silenced by your tongue in his mouth. The hand that remained on your hip sturdy with its grip and clasped onto you to stop himself from tumbling over with the sheer force of his orgasm. Yeah, he could quickly get used to this.

After a few moments of staying where he was, kissing you just as passionately as he had moments before, he finally pulled away and rested his forehead onto yours.

“Ciao.” He said softly.

You rolled your eyes at the reference to the Black Mass so long ago, but your mouth shaped into a brilliant smile, with eyes that beamed to happily, Copia was almost blinded by them. “Ciao.” You responded, a giggle catching in your throat and distorting the word ever so softly.

“Ah, amore, we have a problem.”

Your stomach sank. “What?” You asked, preparing yourself for the worst.

“I came inside you.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, it’s okay. The Ministry provides birth control for all those who want it - I wanted it.”

“Ah, sì. That I know. But… my cock is the only thing stopping my cum from escaping. And you’re sat on some papers.”

Your eyes widened, remembering your want to move locations just moments ago. Your mind went blank. “Shit! Oh, no, no, no!”

“It’s okay! There are tissues-”

“On the other side of the room!”

“Okay, I could pull out and-”

“Then your cum would get all over my translations!”

After some back and forth, it was decided that you would awkwardly lift and wiggle your hips so Copia could reach underneath you and pull the flimsy paper out from beneath you. Every time you did, you would accidentally clench down on his softening cock, and he would hiss or scream out in, what sounded like pain, but it was mostly just sensitivity. That, and he knew that one more clench from you would have him chubbing up inside you again, and he was too tired for round two. At least immediately, anyway.

Once you were both certain your hard work had been saved, Copia placed two gentle taps on your thigh. “See? No harm done. All is well.”

“I may have cried if my work was destroyed.”

Copia pulled out of you, causing both of you to whimper at the sensation. But, Copia placed a kiss on your forehead and stroked your cheek with his gloved hand. “I would never be the reason for your tears, amore.”

You leaned into his touch, but removed the glove before you did allowing you to feel his bare skin on yours. You placed a soft kiss to his hand, finding comfort and solace in his touch. You believed him. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you. “Grazie.”

Copia smiled, looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes. “Prego! Now, I think we should clean up, don’t you?”

You nodded and allowed Copia to help you off the desk and lead you into the bathroom.

You had never showered or cleaned up with another person after sex. Your conquests at the Ministry had usually been either ritual-based or so casual, your partner barely stayed after the fact. But Copia was leading you to the bathroom with his own hands, and turning on the water as hot as possible to get it nice and warm for you when you both were ready - and by Lucifer, did that man take care of you.

He started by brushing your hair, picking up each section gently and working out any knots in it until it was silky smooth and primed and ready for washing, all the while making low conversation with you, his tenor, nasally voice reverberating around the bathroom and bringing comfort to your ears as he worked away at your hair.

He then unzipped your habit, and helped you out of it, folding it neatly to place on the counter so that it would be ready for the next time you wanted to wear it - or pack it, he wasn’t sure.

Bras were tricky garments for Copia, usually when he was too horny to function and wanted access to his partner’s chest. But right now, he was able to take his time with the evil thing, and place soft kisses on your exposed skin to distract you from how long it was actually taking. But, once your breasts were freed, your bra joined your habit on the bathroom counter. He took a moment to appreciate your naked form, drinking in the way you looked completely bare to him. He tried not to stare too long, lest you become uncomfortable and ask that he left - which he would, but he didn’t want to.

You were stunning. So beautiful he almost wanted to put you in a museum and marvel at your work. You’d put Michelangelo’s work to shame if you were placed next to it. You would embarrass the classic artists of old with your beauty. He picked up your hand, “One day, amore, I will worship you so well it will make the gods jealous,” and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

He couldn’t be real - there was no way that a line like that came out of a man like him in your overpriced hotel bathroom filled with steam, so quickly after getting to know you. It was like he had come straight from the pages of a book, complete with all the right lines and gestures to make you fall in love with him.

The Cardinal’s words, a blend of poetic elegance and genuine emotion, painted a canvas of longing and passion spoken in one of the least romantic spots on Earth yet it had your heart racing violently in your chest. The weight of his gaze and the timbre of his voice wove a spell, binding you in a moment suspended in the tapestry of time.

His own clothes took less time to remove, as though he were that one particular scene of the movie Bruce Almighty, where his clothes are just ripped from him and he’s ready to do… well, whatever task one might need to do when naked. The sheer speed of the man, launching his cassock and robes all around the room and making you laugh with the absurdity of it. His salt and pepper hair, a mess from his hat and his Cardinal’s paints a small mess from the exertion of before.

You both got in the shower and washed away the mess of the day from each other’s bodies, lathering soap and rubbing it all over each other, removing each other’s paints and make up and washing each other’s hair. Copia took extra care around your vulva, making sure to clean you thoroughly but as gently as he possibly could so as not to cause you any pain. A thorough lover in all aspects - you wanted to keep him forever.

You dried yourselves off, being silly with the hairdryer before he gave you a gentle kiss and the two of you headed into the bedroom. He picked up his robes and was about to dress himself until you stopped him and told him to join you in bed.

As you and Copia curled up in the softness of the comfortable cushions, the room’s soothing glow from the bedside lamp created a peaceful cocoon. The blankets, a sanctuary of warmth, held the heat that radiated from your joined bodies. He gestured for you to lie on his chest, where your fingers danced and stroked over his hairy torso, drawing the lines of his tattooed “666” over his heart, his chubbiness acting as the ideal pillow. You had only ever seen it in the Ministry’s stained glass windows and, later, in stage replicas of the same stained glass during his performance in the Ghost Project. You didn’t think it was real, but there it was, faded from years of age and hidden partially beneath brown chest hair. The abs in his stained glass replica certainly weren’t real, but there was something about his jiggly tummy that made you happy.

In your hotel room, a soft calmness consumed the two of you, like your own private sanctuary. The authentic connection that formed between you and the Cardinal seemed to eclipse the problems of the day, the weight of your responsibilities, and the Ministry’s norms and regulations.

As you lay side by side, the vulnerability caused by the openness of the conversation and the tenderness of the dim light highlighting your faces. Copia’s comments resonated deeply with a man who had taken solace in the carefree moment’s simplicity, akin to the lines of a lovely song.

The Cardinal’s unbridled, sincere laughter permeated the room, a soft refrain that broke between the calm discussions and times of mutual delight. The walls that usually covered the complexity of your lives came down during this quiet talk, and you two were able to get to know each other on a level that would never have been possible. He was Copia Emeritus, the youngest son of a man who had once performed the same role as him, and an innocent boy who had grown up in a difficult environment. He was more than just the Cardinal and the Head of the Satanic Church. And you were able to lay your soul bare to a man who could understand your troubles in a way not many people could. A rare connection, but a real one.

The soft rustle of the blankets and the soothing rhythm of breathing created a lullaby of comfort,wrapping both of you in a gentle touch of the night. His arm wrapped around your naked body in a hug of protection, drawing you as near to him as he could, as if you were his own.

A fresh day looming over London, sincere conversation, warmth between you and Copia, and a bedroom filled with the soft murmuring of dreams were the small things that brought you comfort in life. With its gentle wings, the night captivated you both, trapping you in a dreamlike world and a soundless melody of hearts interwoven in the unholy.

The throb of excitement and the rush of unexpected intimacy blended with the ashes of dreams that twirled on the brink of awareness, and you fell asleep hardly comprehending the position you were in, but committing it to memory, nonetheless. In order to get a good night’s rest, you made sure to quell the fear that he’d be gone in the morning, and you’d come to the horror that this was all a dream - a fantasy your brain concocted to cope with the idea that you were so close to him.

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm embrace upon the room. As consciousness gently reclaimed its hold, you stirred, expecting to find Copia’s presence beside you. However, the realization that the bed was empty washed over you, accompanied by a subtle undercurrent of disappointment.

For a fleeting moment, doubt crept in—had the encounters with Copia been nothing more than the whimsical product of a dream? The vividness of the previous day’s events felt like a mirage, and a sense of yearning lingered in the room, echoing the emptiness left by his absence.

You sat up, the sheets cascading in gentle waves around you, and surveyed the room with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The memories of the shared Chinese dinner, the playful banter, and the intimacy of being cradled in Copia’s arms seemed almost too fantastical to be real.

As you rose from the bed, the lingering scent of Copia’s presence surrounded you, a subtle fragrance that whispered of the shared moments. A pang of longing accompanied the realization that, regardless of the dreamlike quality of the encounters, there was a void in the room that mirrored the absence of the Cardinal.

Attempting to dispel the lingering doubt, you moved through the room, still as naked as you were when you fell asleep the night before, half-expecting to find traces of him—the imprints of his presence, a forgotten belonging, anything that would validate the reality of the connection. The room, however, revealed no such evidence, leaving you in a state of quiet contemplation.

In the silence of the morning, you grappled with the uncertainty, a delicate dance between the threads of reality and the ephemeral nature of dreams. The longing for Copia’s company lingered, an echo of the intimate moments shared, and the room retained a faint resonance of the enchantment that had unfolded.

“Ciao, Sorella,” Copia greeted, his eyes brightening as he entered, the subtle rustling of the bakery bag in his hands adding a touch of mystery to the moment. The relief that washed over you was palpable, dispelling any lingering doubts about the reality of the connection forged the day before.

“Good morning, Copia,” you responded, a genuine smile gracing your lips as he approached. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, a delightful accompaniment to the morning sunlight that bathed the room. He hung the bag from his wrist and used his free hands to cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a passionate kiss before you had the chance to protest at your morning breath.

“I thought breakfast from a local bakery might make for a pleasant start to the day,” Copia explained, presenting the bag as if it held a treasure trove of delights. His demeanour, a blend of awkward charm and genuine warmth, echoed the sincerity of his actions. “I wanted to surprise you, but you’re out of bed.”

“I’m sorry… would you like me to get back in it?”

He nodded. “Sì. This isn’t my bed or yours, and we’re leaving in a few hours. Let’s be heathens and eat pastries under the duvet!”

As he began to unveil the contents of the bag, an array of pastries and bread emerged, each one tempting and inviting. The simple act of sharing breakfast became a moment of connection, a continuation of the unspoken understanding that had woven its way through the shared experiences of the previous day.

You climbed back into bed, watching your fully clothed Cardinal do the same - paints and all adorned on his face as though you hadn’t already seen his bareness the night before. He was chipper - even more so than before. It was nice to see him so relaxed.

The room filled with the comforting scent of fresh bakery delights, you and Copia began to enjoy the morning repast. The ambiance shifted, the initial uncertainty dissipating in the face of this shared moment of simplicity and warmth.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a mixture of lighthearted banter and genuine interest in each other’s thoughts. As you nibbled on pastries and sipped coffee, the room seemed to come alive with the easy friendship that had developed between you and the Cardinal.

Breakfast finished slowly, lazily. Your time distracted with continuing your conversation from last night before you both fell asleep. The conversation only stilled when Copia returned to the bed, sitting atop the sheets and stroking the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. Then, his lips were on yours.

He didn’t intend for the kiss to be anything but sweet and chaste, but soon enough, his body was positioning himself over yours and forcing you to lie back against the pillows, one hand propping him up over you, the other roaming over the sheets that covered your body. It was deep and delicious, and made your body tingle with want and your legs spread in anticipation, a silent plea for him to touch you again just as he had the night before.

When he’d removed the duvet from your body, a struggle considering he was on top of them, and had situated himself between your legs, he allowed his hands to wander all over your body as though they were trying to find a destination but kept getting lost. As more and more of your body became exposed to him, he allowed his lips to voyage across your curves, open mouthed kisses leaving trails of saliva in their wake as proof that they’d been there. Your breaths were heavy, allowing your breasts to rise and fall with the exertion. Your lips, kiss-swollen and tantalising, he just wanted to run his tongue over them and taste you in your entirety.

His lips fell upon your chest and worked their way down to your nipples. He tongued the left one, first - fingers pinching the right while he licked and sucked at the bud, groaning as if the taste of you was the most delectable dish he’d ever had the honour of eating.

“I wonder,” he began, lying on his stomach, his hands moving to your thighs and spreading your legs wide enough to slot himself between your thighs, “why Lord Lucifer kept you from me all this time?” He kissed your thigh. “Why he wasted my time on other conquests when the sweetest prize was right under my nose the whole time.”

He groaned at the sight of you; your glistening, taut heat spread and open for his personal viewing, ready and waiting for his tongue to ravish you as you deserved. He kissed up your thighs, and as he did so, you took the opportunity to pick up his hat and toss it across the room. This earned you a chuckle.

One of his fingers ran up and down your folds, catching on your clit once or twice and making you shiver and jolt with anticipation. Then, those fingers that had gathered your slick slipped into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut in delight. “Time to make good on my promise and make the gods jealous of you.” He told you, before diving into his newfound faith enthusiastically.

Your hands immediately flew to his hair, digits locking around his mouse-brown strands as your back arched against the wall and completely off the desk. Copia immediately went in, tongue swirling roughly around your sensitive clit and intermittently sucking at it to get those divine noises to spill from your lips. You had no thoughts of quietening yourself, not when his tongue felt like your whole world could collapse at any minute.

It didn’t take long for your hips to start bucking into his face, chasing the pleasure that he was generously giving you. His moustache scratched against your labia as his lips moved, occasionally hitting the right spots and having you clench around nothing. However his cock and his fingers felt last night, was nothing compared to the way he sucked your clit into his mouth, causing loud, uncontrollable moans to spill from your mouth into the cold morning air.

“Copia - fuck!” Your toes curled beneath you as you let out a scream, Copia still flicking his tongue quickly over your folds.

The heat inside the room rose rapidly, making it almost unbearable and causing a sheen of sweat to form on both of you. Copia trapped you in the position he so desperately wanted by firmly pressing your body down and wrapping your legs around his head. He used one arm to keep your hips pressed down while his fingers on the other were sucked into his mouth to wet them with his saliva before they were mercilessly pumped into you.

He adored the sounds you made the night before, but these sounds were entirely different. Brand new. They were boosting his ego and his confidence so much more, allowing him to get a little rougher with his ministrations, stretching you out to fit him beautifully, just as you had before.

Copia moaned as your fingers tugged at his hair, sending vibrations through your heat and throughout your cunt. The sounds that flooded the room were overshadowed by the sinful squelch your wetness made as his fingers worked up and down against that spot. Those fingers reached the parts of you that his tongue was unable to penetrate as he continued to lap at your folds. His fingers felt even better than his tongue, and that fucking moustache was going to send you to an early grave.

As he moved his face, all you could feel was the tickle of prickly hair brushing against your incredibly sensitive spot. You could feel his moustache every time he moved due to his erratic and fast his movements that had your back arching off the matress and your eyes tightly squeezing shut. You were a loud, sweaty mess completely at the mercy of Copia’s actions, and he was fully aware of his actions.

His tongue moved more quickly as you started hitting your high, and his fingers pumped harder, curling to find your favourite and most responsive spots. With his moustache, it didn’t take him long to bring you to your release. Before long, your back arched and you let out a scream as he continued to pump his fingers through your release. You clung to the bedding, needing something to vent your annoyance on. You felt filthy and unholy, Lucifer. It felt so damn good. Copia took his time caressing your folds and surrounding your cunt, savouring every last drop of your exhaled breath as you laboured to breathe. He was enamoured with you. He could never get enough of you.

“Così delizioso,” he told you, pulling back from your core, “could do this forever, amore.”

He crawled up the bed and locked his lips to yours in another desperate kiss, and you groaned at the taste of you on them. As he was on top of you, your hands began working at his robes to get him just as naked as you still were. You needed to feel his skin, needed him against your body otherwise something bad might happen. His robes were a fight and more frustrating than anything else, causing him to stand on the floor and remove everything as quickly as he could on his own, but the whole endeavour ended in a fit of giggles from the both of you as he dived back on top of you, fervently kissing you.

His cock dragged through your folds as he rubbed against you, giving himself just a little respite from the intense feeling and making you shiver with sensitivity below him. “So wet, amore. All for me, sì?”

“Yes, Copia.” You whispered, your breaths ragged and strained. “Only you.”

His cock jumped at the thought. Were you really considering giving yourself to him forever after only one night together? Were you so willing to belong to him so soon? He loved the thought - the idea that you were so enamoured by him that you just couldn’t refuse; that you didn’t want to refuse him.

“Amore, I could tell you all the things I love and adore about you and stuff your pretty cunt with my cock all day and night. You want that?”

“Yes!” Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his cock kept rubbing against your clit, now sopping wet with your juices.

He moved his hips back and, without moving his hands, lined up with your entrance. “Do you want it, amore? Do you want my cock?”

“Yes!”

“Tell me how much.”

“So much, Copia, please. I want your cock to fill me up so fucking good. Please give it to m- oh, fuck!”

He pushed inside of you before you could even finish the sentence, apparently more needy for your cunt than he thought. There was a brief ache from his pounding last night, a twinge that had your eyebrows furrowing, but your mouth hanging open at the pleasure of the stretch.

His kisses traced the same areas they did the night before, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tried to not cum too soon, especially with the way your cunt was fluttering against him. You were twitching, as if you were begging him to move or do something. But the way he was riled up combined with the way you felt was a terrible combination that would only end in him spoiling the fun before it had even got started. You were truly delectable in every sense of the word - an addiction forming with no hope of relief. Not that he would ever be willing to quit.

“Sathanas,” he whispered into your skin, “this cunt!”

He tested the waters, thrusting once, twice, then three times before deeming his body recovered enough from the initial invasion to pick up the pace and start taking what he needed from you.

“Ah!” Each time those noises fell from your lips was when he thrusted particularly deep inside you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix beautifully and forcing the involuntary sounds to escape.

Copia was draped over you, covering you entirely; pinning you against the mattress with his full weight. There was no way you could move, no way you could think independently of the pleasure that he was putting your body through. You just had to lie there and take it with your legs wrapped around his hips trying to keep him as deep as possible so he’d keep giving you the pleasure you were desperately craving.

“Amore, you’re doing so well,” he panted, “you’re so gorgeous all wet and screaming for me. Merda! Giving yourself to me like this. An honour.”

The position he was in on top of you, and the way he pinned you down with the whole weight of his body, meant that his pubic mound was grinding against your clit, stimulating you with each grind of his hips. Your nails dug into his back and ran down it, creating red welts that Copia knew he’d wear proudly for weeks until they disappeared entirely. The feeling of your nails digging into him did something that drove him to the brink of insanity, and he found himself moving much faster than before.

You were close to cumming, but so was he. A mere few thrusts away before he was cumming deep inside your tight, wet heat, losing himself in your body as he had the night before. You felt divine - like sin itself had come alive just to torment him. He couldn’t believe you’d been there all that time and he’d not noticed you until that Black Mass a mere month ago. Yet here he was, balls deep inside you a second time, fucking you within an inch of both of your lives and needing to just… bite.

“Cumming!” You yelled, your voice high-pitched and straight out of a porno.

“That’s it, amore. Just like that. Cum all over this cock.”

Your second orgasm, just as powerful as your first, had your legs locking around Copia’s hips and forcing him deeper, restricting his wriggle room and making him take the full attack of your fluttering cunt as you spasmed beneath him. Your toes curled, your body arched as much as Copia would allow it to, and your eyes screwed tightly shut from the force of it all.

This triggered his own orgasm, cumming deep inside you and gripping onto your body so firmly, he’d leave a bruise. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, mouth attached to the skin and muffled groans emanating from the area as his hips shook with his own force. His body responded similarly to yours - as in, it was completely out of control. It wasn’t until your legs unlocked him and you allowed him some freedom to pull away, he’d noticed the hickey he’d left on your neck.

“Amore,” he said breathlessly, “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

“Not at all,” you replied, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

He poked the hickey - it only hurt a little, as a fresh bruise usually would.

Despite being free, he fell back on top of you, using your entire body as a pillow. He was too tired to move now - too comfortable, too happy. He couldn’t possibly think about the horror that was coming… having to leave this cozy room and soft bed, the warmth of your arms, to get on a cold plane where he’d have to pretend he wasn’t utterly enamoured (and horny) by your presence alone.

But reality called, and work awaited.

This time, however, he’d have you by his side, or even underneath him, whenever he wanted.

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[meraki-yao]

Now I'm curious to know all the "candies" between Nick and Tay 👀 lol I don't ship them but I also find it interesting that some fans really ship real people together and gather evidence or proof of it. If its fine with you to share it pls do 🙏 but if not its also fine :)

Huh...

Actually, sure! I kinda wanted to share some of these at times but again I understand that rps is a complicated subject.

A couple of quick prefaces though:

1, If you’re uncomfortable with the subject, again, please don’t read under the post

2, I don’t have all the candies because I really just view them in passing, so I’m just gonna write/translate the ones I’ve seen, remember and find at least a logical speculation

3, I need to reiterate this in case my position in this gets misunderstood: Me writing about “candies” isn’t because these are MY opinion or things *I* found or *I* believe in them being evidence. I am just a translator and messenger.

4, (this one is gonna sound a little academic lol) Two things I realized when thinking about this “candy eating” culture is that Chinese people have a very difference understanding of platonic/romantic affection/relationships with the Western world, and that they look at the candies with rose-tinted glass. Chinese/Asian people are generally a lot less affectionate with their personal relationships, for example friends wouldn’t say “love you” to each other if they’re just friends, nor would they expand their friend group to the others easily or other stuff. And these people who look for candy go into their “investigation” already with the belief that “they are together”, everything remotely resembling a close relationship will automatically be interpreted as romantic. I thought about it a lot, and honestly among the “candies” I’ve seen, most of them are a matter of interpretation: yes those are things couples will do, but it wouldn’t be weird if friends did it too. So they’re not that seriously or up for further speculation. There is I think only one “candy” that I can’t quite say the same, which I will explain and elaborate on in this post. 

5, Please remember that the people who do this do it in good nature: something I didn’t make clear in my post yesterday, which is on me, is that the fans do want them to be together, but they’re not like… yandere level or something. If they’re just friends the fans won’t be upset or betrayed or anything, they just prefer to see them as romantic. They don’t mean any harm, and they don’t cause any harm because China is physically and digitally too far away for them to actually fuck shit up, and they understand the lines of parasocial relationships: those who met with Taylor during his China trip in December know to, and didn’t bring up this in front of him. They know where to draw the line, and whoever doesn’t and starts becoming a problem gets kicked out of the community. This is meant for fun.

6, Ok Future Meraki here, turns out, there’s a lot to translate, a lot more than I anticipated Jesus Christ and I do want to get this post how within today and make it a reasonable length, so I’m just gonna do two events and the one that I mentioned in 4. If yall want a part 2 let me know.

Ok with that being said, the main event under the cut:

In December they made a whole article about “candies” from December, and to quickly summarise (again noted that all of this is speculation, I didn’t and can’t fact check them, and I’m just a translator) (also this ended up way longer than I anticipated so for photo reference if you can please go to the link of the original article):

Academy Gala:

Nick and Taylor both attended the gala: Since the strike ended up to that point, the two times Nick attends a public event, Taylor’s there too (GQ men of the year and Academy Gala), and for both times he’s wearing Cartier’s Tank Must Watch (remember this watch, I’m gonna elaborate on it later because it is the only candy that even I can’t say it’s a matter of interpretation)

In various pictures of the night’s party that other people took, the boys can be seen together in the background

How the photography worked that night was magazine photographers wandered around the venue and randomly found people to take some relatively candid photos: so people who were walking/sitting/in any way sticking together would be photographed together. So best friends and married couples would be photographed together, which is what happened to Meryl Streep, Greta Gerwig, Saoirse Ronan, and Christopher Nolan, Cillian Murphy and their wives. With that logic, Taylor and Nick were caught by the photographer together TWICE, in clearly different places. Later Korean fans (with the same “candy-searching” mindset) read the time on Taylor’s watch in the photos: one was 8:30, one was 9:50. The implication is that they were together for at least that period of time (nearly 1.5 hours)

In both photos of the boys together, Nick’s elbow is…straight up leaning into Taylor's chest. In a photo with Kaia, Nick’s friend and co-star from Bottoms (Brittany), there’s visible space between Nick and Kaia but none between Nick and Taylor (… okay I’m gonna pop in with my own opinion on the latter one real quick: I really think that one is just Nick being a gentleman)  

During that night, Taylor re-posted an Instagram post from July onto Little Red Book: but the things is in the comment section of the original Instagram post, Taylor teasingly pretends to not know Nick; and according to the posting time and the time calculated in 3, Nick would have been watching him post that to Little Red Book.

Nick got a photo with Taylor’s friend Jay Ellis (Jay and Taylor follow each other on Instagram, and Taylor comments under Jay’s post), even though Nick and Jay don’t seem to have any direct connections. Kaia and Taylor started following each other on Instagram after the event.

While other people who got photos with Taylor posted them, in Taylor’s Instagram Post for the night: He only included his photo with Nick, the rest are all solo portraits of himself. Not only that: he edited the background of the photo so it’s just them, and proceeded to put the photo in the middle of the post.

a bunch of Taylor's good friends, including Taylor’s cousin went to like Nick’s post for the academy gala night. Taylor’s sister Ash shared Taylor’s post to her stories: 2 photos of Taylor himself, and the one photo of Taylor and Nick. Taylor mentioned in a past interview if he had any emotional or relationship (I don’t know which one is the right translation, the original wording is 感情) issues, he would talk to Ash. (please note that I didn’t not and don’t know how to fact-check any of the things mentioned above except for Ash’s Instagram)

Conclusion/ Speculation (okay the academy gala part alone took me 40 minutes what the fuck): I cannot reiterate this enough: THIS IS JUST SPECULATION DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY but under the assumption that Taylor and Nick are a thing, the serious of shenanigans that happened that night, especially with the family and friends stuff in 6,7,8, was interpreted as they announcing it to their personal social circle. AGAIN THIS IS SPECUALTION DON’T TAKE THIS SERIOSULY 

Taylor’s China Trip

On 7th December, Taylor had a photo shoot at the GQ gala venue, but spent the rest of the afternoon taking photos and signing things for fans. Among those, one was the photo of him and Nick from the academy gala just three days ago. He was visibly extra happy and showed off the photo to the crowd, unlike the other photos which he simply gets it, signs it, and then gives it back.

This day was also the start of “Taylor giving Nick/Henry a moustache”: throughout the trip, he drew on four photos of the two of them

(This one is a … really big stretch) among the four, one of them was the GQ magazine shoot, and he first drew the moustache on Nick’s face, giggling “I’ll sign on Nick’s face”, signed his own signature, then just when he was about to give the magazine back he suddenly changed his mind and said “wait wait I wanna do something on my face”, and then drew a crown on his head while muttering “crown prince”. And the thing is… historically, George Villers had a moustache. And then he drew a moustache on Nick and a crown on himself. Also, one of the most popular Chinese RWRB fic on AO3 is called “The King’s Palace”, and the premise is putting Henry in George place as the social climber and the Duke of Buckingham (it is literally George’s character with blonde hair and a different name), and Alex as the crown prince who ascended to the throne and is also utterly infatuated with Henry. So… yeah.

When he drew the fourth photo, which was the piano scene, the fan who asked said “Oh you’re so nice to Nick!” and according to their description (there’s no video), Taylor blushed a little and said “yeaahhhhh” with a big grin

While Taylor was in China people were stirring shit up on Twitter about him, and during the Twitter drama, Nick liked Taylor’s Academy Gala post.

The boys liked the same video on Instagram but from different accounts (a video about a pony in the snow)

During the trip, Taylor was seen wearing a white button-up with blue stripes. Nick has been seen wearing a shirt that looks identical before.

Cartier Watch (aka the one that makes me do a double take)

Taylor used to wear a lot of Cartier watches until he started wearing Tagheuer last July due to a commercial partnership

Nick likes wearing Omega watches. In fact, Henry’s watch in the movie is Nick’s own omega watch. He also has a commercial partnership with Omega.

But then starting last year, both of them were seen wearing matching Cartier’s Tank Must Watches (the silver on with a black surface and a sapphire crown): Taylor can be seen wearing it in the 5th photos of his September post, while Nick can be seen wearing it during the GQ gala, the Academy Gala, in Milan during fan interactions, and last weekend in his TIOY co-star’s Instagram story.

And the thing about this watch is (and here is where I need to reiterate that I’m just translating, I didn’t fact check this) 1, watch is a typical thing to give a lover, and you must be familiar with their wrist size 2, Cartier is a pretty romantic brand 3, the price of this watch is closer to what Taylor’s used to wearing but much cheaper than Omega 4, This specific watch is a popular watch to give a partner/lover, 5, David and Victoria Beckham’s relationship was discovered because paparazzi saw the Cartier watch he gave her and connected dots together

Jesus Christ at this point I should consider getting a part time job in translation

This was fun but this took me so much time, it’s ~2000 words long

Again, all of this was found and speculate for fun, and mean no ill will, and haven’t, and won’t harm the boys, please understand that and don’t take this took seriously. If you find this interesting and want a part two, let me know.

[mysticficti0n]

All my attention Part 6

warnings- swearing, drinking, flirting, dirty talk to the max, Degrading but not in a mean way?

words- 3.3k

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... well

(also would you guys want me to do smut for this? I don't have to if you don't want it but... I could write some good pieces for the next few chapters?????)

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backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

Everyone arrived by 8:50 and were all seated around a extremely large table, each family sat drinking and laughing over different things, on our side of the table (meaning me, Tom, Gustav, Gustav's grandpa, Georg and Bill) we all chatted about random ideas we had for the next shows

"good evening, could we get you all started on food?" a man around my mothers age smiled pulling a note pad out and a pen

"yes can we have-" Stefan schafer, Gustav's dad began pointing to things on the menu and pointing to the people who wanted it "-perfect thank you" the man nodded collecting all the menus in and the chatter began again, me and Tom sat across from our grandmas who were on about something they'd watched on tv

"I'm bored" Tom whispered in my ear causing me to roll my eyes

"we've been here 20 minuets" he sighed falling back into his chair and his grandma seemed to notice turning to him

"Tom- whats wrong darling?" the boy sat properly again and took a swig of his drink

"nothing just hungry" he spoke watching the old women tilt her head "...I'm bored" Catrina nodded looking to me

"you have Y/n/n for company, she's a lot of fun aren't you?" I nodded my head looking to the boy who just laughed "oh actually me and Josie were just saying- we watched your interview! with that hunky man Karter, you two looked delightful, well all of you did" she grinned rubbing my hand over the table

"yeah.." Tom trailed getting comfy again, reaching arm the back of my seat and playing with the ends of my hair "we wont be going back to him in a rush"

"why not?" my gran asked "he's a handsome man"

"nothing to worry about Nanna" I spoke smiling to her, she can become a very angry women if she found out someone did anything bad to us, she'd personally hunt them down if she could.

Time passed slowly but the smell of food only made us hungrier, Toms hand had moved from my hair to my shoulder drawing a circle over and over

"and here we are-" the same waiter came over with two others holding trays of food, there was 21 of us.. we all sat straight and the small laughter of my sister caused us all to laugh, I had the pesto tortellini with Parmesan, and many also copied me

"thank you" we all said starting our meal, I dug my fork in and bought the steamy pasta to my mouth "oh wow thats amazing" I hummed putting more onto the fork, Tom looked over then to the bowl and back to me "you chose to have the chicken Schnitzel, I said about this"

"oh please!" he moaned "one bite- you can have some chips" he quickly stabbed his fork into the fries and brought them to me "come on"

"fine" I gave into his ways and took the chips and past him my fork with the pasta on the end, he hummed a quick thank you and smiled tasting the food "good right?" Tom nodded swallowing the pasta, I turned back to eating and listening to the different conversations around the table

"you know I was thinking about something" Bill began looking down to us on the table "a tv show, like filming while in rehearsals and we could go round during tours and trying things... Felix said about it" The idea of being filmed 24/7 didn't sound fantastic, I enjoy my privacy but.. if that means we get to do fun stuff..

"who'd wanna watch us though, outside of music were just boring" Gustav added "you could do a documentary about every girl Toms fucked" Gustav's mom slammed his hand making us all laugh

"at least they'd say they came unlike the girls you've done" Tom hit back making the drummer huff "but I like the idea-" Georg nodded as well but I still sat undecided

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(okay I cba to write about the restaurant but lets say, lovely meal hugs kisses etc)

"Oh why don't we go to that bar" Simone pointed out, the bars name was naughty lad and music was booming through the walls, the boys seemed intrigued looking through the steamed windows

"I think we'll head back with the grandparents, Stella is nearly asleep so could you bring Y/n back?" my mom asked passing my sister to my dad

"sure, we'll keep her safe don't worry" David, Georg's dad spoke wrapping an arm around me "you get home and relax" with a quick hug my parents got into the car and drove away leaving me with the boys and their parents which wasn't unusual, having a younger sister makes life harder to always enjoy. Together we all walked into the bar and 'hot in here' by Nelly was blasting through the speakers

"drinks?" Bill asked pulling his wallet out "Guessing a vodka coke for you?" I laughed seeing Bill roll his eyes "you need to try more- I'm getting you something else"

"Get me whatever she has!" Tom shouted to his brother who nodded walking to the rest of the group who found themselves sat at a booth "wanna smoke quickly?" I agreed feeling his hand wrap around my wrist and pull me back out the door, he went into his pocket pulling his cigarets out and handing me one with his lighter

"thank you" I chirped lighting the end and then his "I can't get over you tonight" I spoke catching myself at the end

"its alright babe, you can take it off me later" his voice turned suggestive and a smirk plastered his face "aww turning red aren't you?" his free hand cupped my jaw and I felt my knees go weak at his touch- what was he doing

"shut up-" I groaned pushing him away jokingly "I was trying to be nice and say you look good" Toms face softened and nodded along to my words

"I know, but I just love making you all red for me" he cooed putting a hand on my waist "it makes you even more beautiful" Tom leaned in, my heart started pounding in my chest, is this what he meant by being 'worse' I knew I wanted to kiss him again as he closed the distance between us, our lips just inches apart, he hesitated. With a sly grin, he pulled back, leaving the me confused "don't want to be caught do we?" I narrowed my eyes seeing him chuckle "aw did you want me to kiss you Y/n?"

"its okay, I'll find someone in there who will" his face dropped and his grip on my only tightened "maybe I'll bring them home with us?"

"mhm... I don't think so-" The boy was cut by the long haired bassist peaking his head around the door "what?"

"drinks are here" he pulled the door open wider and the two let me in first, I pushed past people dancing along to the music and trying not to get any type of liquid on my dress, finally the booth came into view and Bill sat smiling reaching for my hand I took it and he pulled me next to him

"okay drink this first then I'll tell you what it is" he shouted over the music, I turned to the drink and saw it was a radioactive green with a yellow hue, I picked up the champagne coup and brought it to my lips taking a sip

"Ugh What the fuck is that!" I called nearly heaving at the taste of something like black liquorish

"Death In The Afternoon! I thought you'd like it!" a smile creeped onto his face as he took the glass and finished it "let me get you another one!" The boy pleaded

"come on Y/n don't be boring!" Gustav laughed swigging his arm around me

"fine but I don't want that shit ever again" soon I watched the tallest twin wonder to the bar and point to something on the menu clapping his hands as the bar man turned away "oh- whats that?" I asked seeing the black haired boy smirking holding a small glass fully yellow but with some red falling into the glass, speaking of the glass it had a slice of lemon and mint dotted on top

"this is a Mai Tai" Bill said handing me the drink and watched me as I sipped at the liquid, I hummed at the taste of Malibu and orange running down my throat

"wow this is good" I drank more seeing the singer do a small dance knowing he'd defeated my 'vodka coke' love

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I sat in the booth wedged between Simone and Bill who were laughing about something stupid and I was on my 5th mai tai giggling when something funny was mentioned, I wasn't drunk but I was tipsy, I saw Simone leave the conversation and look to the dance floor "OH MY GOD!" She got up running to the floor pulling me along with her

"SIMO-" I began but then I herd it 'don't stop the music' by Rihanna start to play, ever since the song came out earlier in the year me and her loved it, we danced around with large smiles painted across our faces "I wanna take you away Let's escape into the music DJ, let it play I just can't refuse it" Simone grabbed my hand spinning me around while still belting out the lyrics "Please don't stop the music!" we finished laughing loudly and sweat running down our foreheads I looked to the booth to see them all clapping at our stupidness we took a bow and Simone went to sit down next to her boyfriend who she wrapped her arms around and kissed making her sons cringe and I decided id go sit next to Tom- we'd barley spoke since we had that smoke out side, he was sat holding a glass of clear liquid and rolling his eyes over at his brother

"hey!" I called sliding myself next to him in the booth

"hi- you okay?" I nodded my head grabbing my drink of the table and In a quick swig finishing It off "you might wanna slow down on them" the boy laughed pulling my empty glass from me but I couldn't understand a word as the music got louder around me

"what? I didn't hear you!" he rolled his eyes but quickly moved closer, the arm around my shoulder moved to hold my bare thigh as he leaned into my ear

"I said, you might wanna slow down on the mai tai" his fingers tapped on my skin causing a odd sensation I'd never felt before shiver up my body, they danced on my leg edging to go just slightly under my skirt but he stopped everytime

"oh-oh yeah... well wanna go to the bar and help me chose something different?" Tom nodded and the two of us stood back up, he grabbed my hand, closing his fingers tightly around mine and pulled me through the crowd, yanking me when I stopped, as we got to the bar he pulled me a bar stool out making me sit in front of him while he stood close behind, his stomach on my back and his one hand on my waist

"you like the fruitier cocktails right?" I nodded my head looking at the menu and something caught my eye- The Blue Hawaii, rum, vodka Blue curacao, pineapple juice and Lemon juice

"I think I want the blue Hawaii!" I looked back to the dreaded boy who nodded his head pulling his wallet out "no Tom, let me pay!" I hurried into my purse to grab the €10 I needed

"Y/n fuck off, I'm buying me and drink and you one- put the money away" he huffed grabbing my money and shoving it back into the bag "let me treat you babe" my heart ached at the words and so I let him do what he wanted and I just leaned back on him and waited to be served. The bartender finally turned to us and grabbed a bottle of something "erm can we have a blue Hawaii and a vodka cranberry, thanks" Tom handed the money over me, his chest pressing on me and his other hand back on my thighs for support

"be 5 mins" the man behind the counter said before walking off to the other side of the bar

"I need a piss, stay here don't move alright?" Tom commanded, quickly patting my head like I was some kind of dog and running to the bathroom, I sat kicking my legs watching others conversations and giggling to who ever they're with

"hey.. anyone sitting here?" I turned to a voice I'd never herd before and saw a man stood there holding a empty glass

"no! you can sit don't worry" a small laugh left him and he perched onto the chair and I finally got to see his face, He's very good looking, I couldn't help but admire his features. something about him that made him stand out from the rest, his black hair and brown eyes. His hair is perfectly styled in little waves along his head, and it shines in the light. I found myself staring to his smile. It's warm and inviting, i can't help but smile back. It's infectious.

"thanks, I'm Brandon- thought I'd introduce myself so I'm not creepy" I laugh at him as I turn to speak to him better

"oh I'm Y/n, my seat will be free soon once me and my mate have our drinks" I spoke still just admiring him, it might've been the alcohol but he was gorgeous

"shame, I'm enjoying this- little old me speaking to a beautiful girl.. I say old- I'm not I'm 19, you?"" I blushed to his words

"oh 17 but I get mixed up with being either 23 or 13 most days" he chuckled at my comment

"where you from anyways?"

"Leipzig, you?" he nodded his head

"Dresden" we kept speaking till mine and Tom's drinks arrived and I quickly grabbed them "so who are you here with?"

"just my friends and some family- celebrating coming home- actually my friend should be here soon" I looked back and I saw Tom staring at me with a scowl across his face "oh erm, he's over there so I might see you later?" I smiled grabbing the drinks off the table

"yeah sure, maybe I can get your number and we could go out for drinks?" he sounded so sweet and eyes bright with hope, but I knew I had to be careful giving my number out for security reasons and also I think Tom would kill me

"maybe yeah!" I laughed it off as I walked over to he boy who looked through me to Brandon, crossing his arms "how long were you stood watching me?" I asked passing him his drink

"long enough" his seriousness scared me, what was his issue "he really liked you didn't he? eyes wondered you like a fucking map" he spat gulping his drink basically in one

"Tom I think you're being a bit dramatic, he didn't even flirt with me" it was a partial lie as he did ask for my number...

"still-" I saw the guitarist sulk a little sipping the last of his drink and staring into the distance and that when I realised it

"are... are you jealous?" his eyes shot up to me but he didn't fight my words, and I wanted to keep pushing him "come on, you can tell me" I fluttered my eyelashes at the boy who just looked away, without thinking my hand reached for his jaw and brought his gaze back to me, I was shocked with myself but I couldn't lose my control now "look at me when I'm talking to you" I spoke closer to him in a low whisper, his eyes seemed deeper and narrower, I was doing it "you don't like it when I speak to other guys hm? don't like them looking at me, thinking of me...touching me" I let the last words roll of my tongue and I could see behind his stare he was getting angrier "talk to me pretty boy"

My hand was swatted from his face as Tom pulled me by my wrist back into the cubicles, each small individual rooms with a crappy dim light glaring into the room, hurriedly we went to the first unlocked block and slammed the door closed and he locked it with a click, my back pressed against the cold tile wall and Tom stood over me I close my eyes as his lips press against mine. His hands moved around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he wrapped his arms around me. His lips soft and perfect, his breath warm on my skin. I can feel my heart racing as we move together, our bodies intertwined. His hands move higher, caressing my back as we kiss. I can feel my skin tingling with anticipation as I move my hands up his chest, exploring his body. I can feel the electricity between us, the passion rising.

"You- you are a little cunt sometimes" I feel him smile into my cheek pressing kisses into my skin "but.. fuck we both know you'd never want them...as much as you want me" I hold my breath at the feeling of him humming into my ear, my arms tangle around his neck pulling him back to my lips "god you are so desperate for me" I pull back slightly opening my eyes and seeing a smirk plastering his face

"who's the one that dragged me into here?" he tilted his head in agreement but I could wait any longer, our lips smashed back together and our bodies collided once again, hungrily I moved down to his jaw peppering the line with kisses and edged down to his neck, my lips danced around until I reached just below his ear and his grip on me tightened and a noise threatened to escape his throat, I dove back into the spot sucking and pecking at it, hearing him struggle and try pry me off

"fuck Y/n- please" he begged "shit... I-I" his stuttering made my heart swell and I pulled away to see small beads of sweat forming, I looked to his eyes and they were full of glazed tears of lust

"aw- I'm sorry, didn't you like it?" I played with a strand of his hair as he shook his head no

"I fucking loved it" his lips landed back on me as he groaned into the kiss, I smiled feeling his hands go under my thighs and lift me onto his hips, my dress pushing up revealing the red panties I put on earlier "shit you are so hot" the boy whined kissing my chest, nibbling lightly at the skin

"ah- Tom" His eyes caught mine again and smile only spread further, my hands grabbed his shoulders pushing myself up and he only toyed with me more, licking my skin that was sore from being between his teeth and small noises seeped from my mouth only pushing him further "shit... Fuck Tommy- I..." his nickname came out so naturally but in the sluttiest moan I'd ever done

" God Y/n, I don't what the first place we fuck to be in a bathroom baby, so keep that pretty little mouth quiet because you're making it so hard to keep that from happening" my heart nearly exploded out my chest, I went like putty, foreheads knocking together at his words, Tom caught my lips In one last sweet kiss and put me back onto the floor "so beautiful-" Tom whispered into my ear one last time before pulling away still holding my waist

"only for you" I smiled kissing him once more again before we stood there holding each other panting and puffy lipped

[mimiiis]

El Mar (pt.2) (Namor x Latina!Reader)

(photos are not not mine)

Summary: Namor shows you something you never thought to be possible.

Warnings: All the Mayan used is from a translator, I apologize if anything is wrong. Cursing, mentions of fear, I think that’s abt it tbh !!Not Proofread!!

Series Masterlist. Prev. Next.

Word Count: around 9k

A/n: I am telling yall rn I was stressed the fuck OUT writing this 💀, not much happens but dw its all just leading to somewhere 🥹🙏

Words floated and spun in your head, an elaborate thread of language that you did your best to weave together as you wrote each word that crossed your path in the book before you. You wrote out each one in the English alphabet, translating the syllables you read aloud into a full word you could understand by connecting the pronunciation to its English counterpart. The process was absolutely time consuming, and it worked. Days passed since that night with Namor, and you had only thought of translating and learning the ancient language.

Something about that interaction seemed to have changed everything you had grown accustomed to. The women let you bathe on your own, you were given simple but still very elegant dresses, and they even smiled at you now. They may have been false but the faint welcoming energy made you feel.. happy? The young girl who had been previously frightened of you, now looked in your eyes and gave you a grin that felt like the warmth of the sun you missed.

You did your best to speak to them, writing and translating simple phrases like “how are you?” or “good morning/night” for whenever you saw them. You didn't know if your accent or pronunciation of words was correct, only going off of what you had heard those around you spoke like. Yucatec Mayan was very different from Spanish, though some words were alike. You delighted in glee when you translated a word and saw it was one you were familiar with.

The book you were given, Le Ujo’, was the main occupant of your time. You had only been able to translate a page or two, but even then you were able to make out the story within the papers. It focused around a girl, a girl who was like the moon. Her personality was described as cold but warm to those who saw past it, something about the few paragraphs you were able to read made it remind you of yourself. Her features were described almost identically like yours, you were half convinced it was written about you. But it couldn’t have been right? The pages were crinkled and worn, ink stains and blotches adorned it and so you believe it must’ve been a few decades old.

You did wonder where it came from, if the story was a part of the ancient Mayan culture that the world had long forgotten. If Namor and his people truly were still well preserved in time, they must’ve had a thousand stories to tell. The anticipation to quickly learn the language and demand to be told them all made your heart pound, it kept you going.

Being so busy now gave you less time to wander of the world you’d left behind, the subject still felt like a dagger in your heart when you did. It was only at night when you lay awake, causing a fit and moving every 3 seconds due to the unbearable thoughts of your mind, was when you’d wander back to your family and friends.

You came to think you understood Namors motives in keeping you hidden away here. Why he kept his people safe, their secrets and thriving life. These people were his own family, people he wanted to protect. The risk of a human running to the hills and telling everyone your secrets is not something you’d want to happen to you if you so graciously invited someone into your own home. You were so grateful to witness everything you had, but you still wondered why he hadn’t just left you on the beach. He explained his reasoning but it still irked you, how did he know about the men? About what they wanted to do to you? He said he felt connected to the sea, maybe the ocean called and told him. Maybe he felt what you did in your own bones, connected to that ancient spirit that resides in the depths of the waves.

The strangest thing was that when you thought of him, you felt that longing you always felt when looking at water. To urge to go to him and simply be there took a hold of you each time, it made you burn in either embarrassment or rage. You were unable to tell between the two.The resentment and the part of you that was simply human fought against each other day and night.

You tried not to dwell on that topic, the argument ringing bright and clear in your mind as you still tried to continue with your studies. But as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore the pounding heart and rapid heating of your cheeks as your mind always managed to drift back into thinking of him.

~~~~

You sat in your chair, back and neck hurting as you craned your head into the book. Your wrist ached as you wrote down each letter without having to look back at the parchment paper made to help you. You managed to memorize each symbol, calculating the letters into place and quickly jotting them down as you got them. You’d make sure you were right when you finished.

The sound of a whistle and the sweet gentle call of your name broke your train of thought, making you shoot your head in its direction. There at the entrance of the room was the young girl, Nikté.

You learned her name when she first saw you reading the mayan book, eyes going wide as she suddenly began to talk frantically. You obviously hadn’t known how to tell her you didn’t know what she was saying, so you resulted in trying to write the word “learning” in her language. She nodded her head immediately after, that smile across her lips as she introduced herself properly at last. From then on, she visited you often, always coming into your room to tell you when food was ready, when the bath water was on its way. Though you mostly communicated by saying one word, it made you feel less alone. As if you had made a friend.

You stretch your arms, holding them above your head as you greet her, “Hola.” Smiles paint both your faces as she makes her way towards you. Her long black hair flowing behind her, the jingle of her jewelry is heard throughout the cavern as she appears in front of you. “Hola.” She replies, politely bowing her head to you.

You didn’t know what time it was, having gotten lost in your studies and skipped the time in which they brought the bath water to you. You stood up from the chair to stand at her height, bowing your own head to her as well as continuing to stretch by bending parts of your body you felt knots in.

Usually, she would sit down after you greeted her. Helping you with word accents and such but today she did not even look at the table.

“P'isib u janal?” You asked, ‘food time?

She shook her head, when she did you noticed the smile on her face. It was wider, happier, lovelier.

“Taal u.” She simply says, reaching her hand towards yours. The cold blue skin greeting your own made you shiver. She intertwined her fingers with yours, giving you a soft squeeze before nodding her head to the direction of the door.

“Taal u.” Come.

~~~

She led you through the halls, still walking hand in hand with you as you suddenly came to a stop before the room you had seen her and the two women weaving your dresses.

“Pa’atik.” She told you, Wait. She let your hand go, going inside of the dimly lit area and leaving you out in the hall.

The faint dripping of water, loud voices, and laughs were the constant noises you heard here. It had become second nature to block them out but you decided to listen to your surroundings as you waited for your friend. The rustle of fabric, the jingle of jewels, and what sounded like a hushed argument came from the place you waited outside of. You fidget with your fingers, wondering what you were even waiting for. The urge to walk back into the room and continue reading consumed your being, and it took everything in your body to stay planted where you were.

A minute or two passed when you were suddenly pulled inside the room. Your heart leaped out your chest and you let out a small scream as you were suddenly sat onto a plush chair in the middle of the room.

Nikté’s eyes greated your own, crinkled by the smile of her face. Her long fingers made their way through your hair, softly beginning to detangle it as you stared at her in confusion. You drifted your gaze as she made her way behind you, trying to take in your surroundings as this was your first time in this room.

You had only ever seen the guards, Nikté, and the two women during your stay here but the sight before you made you realize how you truly didn’t know the strange world you were in.

At least 10 women stood in the crowded space, all handling either jewelry or large amounts of fabric. Shining, glittering, or sheer, the yards of silk flowed off the tables around you and onto the floor like water. They flooded the room, a carpet of colors decorated the floor and your eyes went wide. You’d only ever seen such fabric of high quality in boutiques while shopping for dresses. Where did they even get these from?

You looked at the beautiful patterns and colors before you. White, black, and red colored dresses caught your attention. Each unique and with a personality of their own, all with different skirts and necklines. You wondered who or what they were for, enamored with the intricate details of them all. Patterns of flowers and ocean waves looked to be hand woven into the hems , rising up and up like flames and scattering across the bodice of each.

You couldn’t take your eyes off them, so entranced by their beauty you did not even notice the layering of beads upon your body. Heavy earrings were placed on your ears, pure jade decorated with gold and a matching necklace. The same type of jewelry they would dress you in to present you to Namor. You felt them, but didn’t truly notice until you looked away from those dresses and into a mirror. A large vanity style mirror was hung on the wall before you, you stared at your reflection.

Something about you changed. The last you had seen yourself in the mirror was the first day you were here, you could still feel that small piece in your hands as you flexed them. Back then you were scared, utterly frightened and confused of everything, but now you weren’t. Though still in the dark of several things, like where these beings around you even lived and came from, you seemed happier. The once deep bags of your eyes seemed to have filled out, you carried yourself taller, and the jewelry you once dreaded to see now made your stomach whirl in nervousness.

You were going to see him again. You swore to not think much of it but you kept remembering the book. You didn’t know if he picked out for you personally, but you wondered if he remembered reading about the girl who looked and acted just like you. You wondered if that's why he chose it. He even translated the symbols for you and wrote down their phonetic sounds. You began to think of that night and tending to his wounds. Reminding yourself of those things he said that made your heart skip a beat, stupid stupid man.

The anger you held for him kept you sane, or that’s what you’d like to believe. You didn’t know why you couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your knee bounced up and down, you bit your bottom lip, and you stared blankly at the mirror as you watched Nikté brush and place small pearls in your hair. She hummed softly, the water of her mask swishing with her as she moved her head side to side in the rhythm of the song she sang.

So sweet, so soft. Everything about her reminded you of the sun. The warmth of her voice and smile, the brightness of her eyes and laughs. She reminded you of Adeline. Though your friend on land was rather vulgar and half insane, she could be the nicest person you’d ever known when she wanted to. The sunset on the beach before you came here played through your mind, the way she looked at you with pure joy on her face made your heart ache. You got lost in the memory, going misty eyed before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Terminado.” Finished Nikté says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper it into your ear. You focus your gaze back to the mirror before you.

The front of your hair was covered in pearls appearing to look like a makeshift crown. The tiny beads reminded you of the fresh morning dew that coated the soft petals of flowers on that land you missed, small and delicate. The rest of it was loose and neatly pinned back so it stayed away from your face. All but two strands of hair poked out before your ears to frame your features.

You could almost die at the fact they made you look so pretty to only see him. Gave you such fine accessories and clothes for a man you didn’t even want to care to see. You recalled how he basically admitted he dressed you, the fact he might’ve wanted them to make you look beautiful made the skin on your cheeks burn.

How dare he make you feel this way after keeping you down here? What next, was he going to try to woo you in marriage?

The sudden thought made you burn even hotter, something inside you screamed in either delight or in fear. You couldn’t tell the difference. You quickly shook the thought away, simply looking back at the blue skinned girl behind you and smiling.

~~~~

Anxiety filled your gut as you were led down the now too familiar hall to Namors hut. The seconds felt like minutes as you attempted to work up something to say when you’d see him.

Do you thank him for the book? Pretend as if it meant nothing to you when in fact it meant everything? Do you ask him about the wounds, if they healed? Hell, why did you even care so much about what to say?

So many words, ideas, excuses came to your mind.

You were so captured by them that when you blinked you were suddenly in front of the curtain that separated him from you. There, just behind that flimsy piece of fabric, was the man you tried desperately not to think of day and night.

You felt as if your lungs were going to collapse from the air that had been sucked out. Fear, terror, anxiety, and a thousand more emotions shot through you as you made the decision to finally enter.

He was sitting lazily against the same chair he had sat in during your first meeting. His back was straight but his shoulders were slightly hunched as he held a pen in one hand and a piece of that same parchment paper you had in your room. He looked tense. A stern look rested on his features as he read what was before him.

Gold adorned his neck and shoulders with thick pauldron-like armor that sat atop them. Each layer was extremely detailed, either scaled or sharp edged swirls came together to resemble something that looked to be an ancient painting of a dragon. Hints of lapis lazuli coated the edges as a necklace of gold and shimmering pearls connected the two pieces of armor together, floating across his toned chest. Not a thing out of place. A white and red edged cape hung from him, flowing off and around like those fabrics you'd seen earlier. Smooth and soft like water.

You stared at the figure before you in absolute awe. Again, the only word you could even think of when you saw him was Ethereal.

He still hadn’t noticed you as you continued to take him in. So different from the last time you saw him, that weak and vulnerable air around him was once again powerful and tense. He never exactly told you what he was, you only found out he was a King through the people around you, but he really did look like a God.

You cough, placing your hands behind your back as you call for his attention. You straightened yourself as best as possible, trying to appear as unbothered as you could in the presence of him. Though if he started talking and you heard the voice that rang through your mind and made your knees weak, you didn’t know if it would’ve been possible to keep the act up. .

Namor looks up at you, his eyes scanning your body and face before that smile he always wore when he saw you appears.

He says your name. The thick and gruff accented voice made it sound so perfect, as if it were a piece of art specially made for him and only him to ever say. You braced yourself to feel your knees buckle, but instead the sound soothed you. It caressed a place deep down inside your gut and every tensed nerve inside you calmed. Every bad thought drifted away like smoke in the wind. How strange.

“You know, you never told me your name.” Were his first words to you after that.He lifted from his chair ever so gracefully, the fluid motion of his body drew you in as you stepped further into the room.

“I don’t think you ever asked.”You replied.

“No, I did not.” He chuckles. “It was actually Nikté who told me. It is nice to see you are making friends.” He gently nods his head, greeting you the way he always did.

“Did she now?” You nod your head in return as you stop behind the chair across from his. Your eyes met his, the dark of them swirled with a flurry of emotions. You didn’t look away this time. You didn’t roll your eyes and run away from him like you had before. No, how could you? You made it this far, why turn back now.

“How are your wounds?” You ask him, looking away and taking a seat on the chair in front of you. You grabbed a piece of melón that was gently set in the bowl of fruit on the table, realizing you hadn’t eaten at all this morning.

“Take a look for yourself.”

You look back up and into his direction too eagerly. He begins to pull away the fabric at his sides, the golden skin at his waist peaking out beneath. Smooth, unmarred skin was revealed to you and your eyes went wide.

“What?” You whisper to yourself. “But- that type of injury should have taken weeks to heal. There should be scabs, o-or at least a trace of scars— How did that even heal so quickly!” You question, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at his waist. Impossible.

He simply laughs at you, hands falling away and the cape back into place. “That is actually the reason I called you here today.”

You looked back up at his face, seeing a playful grin set upon his lips. You lifted a brow, “Called me here? What? Like I’m your pet?”

Silence. The grin was wiped clean off his face, replaced with an emotion you could not quite read. You were going to ask if he was okay, worry spread through you as you realized you might’ve offended him. You considered apologizing for what you said, mouthing opening to say the words until he smiled.

His cheeks curved up until the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the smile lines at his cheeks were on full display. He laughed, practically howling as he held his stomach.

You sank down and embarrassment filled your veins. That laugh would ring throughout your mind later, you knew it. It made your stomach do flips and your heart pound at the sound. He continued to shake with laughter as he set himself back down onto the chair before you. Slowly wiping away small tears that fell onto his skin.

“Pet! That’s funny.” He manages to say in between breaths, eyes open fully and set on you now.

“It wasn’t That funny..” You mumble before biting the fruit in your hands. You chewed as slowly as possible, savoring the bittersweet taste of the melón that soaked in your tongue. Its juice coated your fingers, the slippery texture almost had it falling from your hands.

It tasted like summer. Memories of your mother bringing you fruit after playing with friends on hot days rang through your mind. You did your best to focus on those times, doing and thinking of anything to ignore his gaze on you. It reminded you of why you even let yourself be here, your silly goal of somehow convincing him to let you go back to that life you missed. You won’t let your emotions keep you away from that. Or, at least you’ll try.

He snickered, clicking his tongue as the wide smile stayed. He shook his head as he did, the last few laughs falling away. “No, it was funny.”

You huff, rolling your eyes before taking an even bigger bite of fruit. “So, why am I here?” You ask, mouth half full. Juice spilled from the corner of your lips, seeping out and dripping down onto your chin. The orange colored sap slid down down down, onto your collarbones and the necklace you currently wore. You were too busy looking at him spitefully that you hadn’t noticed he was studying the way it that stuck to your skin.

You were about to say something, something snarky and no doubt stupid when you saw him staring at you. But it quickly faded from your mind as you saw his arm reach up. A strong calloused hand made its way towards your face, holding itself in a cupping position. Your body froze as you stared at the person it belonged to. His eyes were intense, set on not your own but rather your lips. His hand reached your face, cupping your chin softly. Much softer than anyone has ever held you. His thumb swiped across the corners of your lip, wiping away the stickiness on your chin with it as well.

“You are here because I have decided I need to show you something. A way of saying thank you for the other night.” Namor replies, his eyes slowly studying your face. You felt flushed as you watched him, your fingers dug deeper into the piece of fruit you held. The soft unbruised melón was now intended by your fingers, a darker orange where you held it than the rest of its untouched counterparts. He continued to hold your face a few seconds more, the warmth of him made you want to nuzzle into it. It took everything to resist.

Chills went down your spine, goosebumps spread across your skin when he gently brushed it away. Your mind was blank, everything you ever thought of was gone, it only focused on the lingering warmth on your cheek. His presence seemed to do that to you. Like if your mind was a compass and he was north.

You stared blankly at him, the unexpected action left you going crazy. Feelings bubbled in your gut, thoughts you didn’t even want to have about him all rushed and played in your mind.

God! What was he going to show you? Surely it wasn’t anything like.. that.. right?? This is only your third real conversation!

You tensed, blinking slowly as you finally gulped down the chewed fruit in your mouth. You forced yourself to breathe, slowly and steady.

His lips began to move, he was saying something. But you didn’t hear. Your ears rang as you slowly tried to pick up the scattered parts of your brain and put them back into place.

“Huh?” You managed to force out when you noticed that he was finished. Not having heard a single thing.

Whatever he said must have been very important because he suddenly stood. The action startled you, jumping slightly at it.

“I said to follow me. I need to show you something.” He says calmly, as if what he had done to do had no effect on him whatsoever. Well, why would it? He definitely knew what he was doing. Bastard.

“Oh okay.” You mumble in response, your voice faint as your eyes follow him. His strong back was turned to you as he walked out the hut, he didn’t even wait to hear your response. He was gone and you were left staring at the gentle swaying of the curtain before you.

You softly cursed him before taking the final bite of fruit in your hands. He really was going to be the death of you.

~~~~

“That’s absolutely hideous.” You say, voice painted in disgust.

A big metal suit stood before you. It was made of chunky metal, covered in wires and lamps and a large oxygen tank. Not only that but it was quite wide. No doubt that it had many layers residing inside of it, most likely designed to protect the person who wore it. It was rounded at the edges with a thick type of plexiglass helmet resting upon its top. It reminded you of a high tech space suit, the white paint of it like those you’d seen in movies.

“Ah, so now is when you care about something being attractive.” Namor says. You can’t see him but you could tell he had a shit eating grin on his face. You shook your head before turning to look at him. You glared, showing no amusement at his response.

You both stood outside his hut, near the body of water that surrounded the rocks of the cave. The glowing pools made the suit look blue, reflecting the light that showed upon it. You both were covered in the royal colors as well, the soft glow lit his eyes in a way that looked like they were swimming with stars. Though the shadows on his face made him look more menacing, his sculpted sharp features were more intense. The complete opposite to the softness of his eyes.

“What’s it even for?” You ask, tilting your head back to the strange thing before you. You tried to examine it even farther, attempting to figure out its intended use but instead more questions popped up inside your mind.

Where did it come from? Who made it? Why was it here? Where did they even keep it?

You placed a hand on the cold metal, smooth and slick. The suit looked new, as if no one had even dared touch it before you did.

“Deep sea exploration.” The male behind you says.

“Deep sea- what?” Your eyes went wide as you whipped your head to him. He chuckles, gently making his way towards you and the suit.

“I need you to get in it. Only if you want to see what I have to show you.” He sounded so calm, as if that request wasn’t something incredibly bizarre. You stared at him in disbelief. Your brows furrowed and you wanted to call him crazy.

“What would you have to show me that requires a deep sea exploration suit anyways?” You ask instead, emphasizing the words he used.

He gave you a sly look, mischief swirled in his eyes and smiled before looking away from you. “It’s not something I can really say, only show.”

You roll your eyes at him, sighing before backing up to take in the suit's entirety once more. You grimaced as you felt a tinge of fear inside you, it sent a chill down your back. You can’t imagine where he wants to take you in that. But, if his people lived in water, if they thrived there then, maybe… maybe you could trust him with this. He saved you once, let you heal him besides his protests, gave you a book you couldn’t be more grateful for. You had few reasons to trust him, but something told you they were a part of something grander than you knew.

‘Trust him..’ That call inside you roared at you.

If anything were to go wrong, he’d be there.

He’d be there, the words rang through your mind. They put you at ease, and you grabbed a hold onto that.

“I mean I guess but..” You begin. Even though calm soothed your mind, just agreeing to get in the suit made your bones cry out. Fear and excitement whirled inside of you, it made you want to crawl out of your skin and run from the leering unknown of what he was to show you.

You can trust him..’ You repeat to yourself, to your crying nerves as you turn to look at him.

“How am I going to get in?”

~~~~

The suit was not as heavy as you thought. Though hard to navigate in, the small light that it illuminated gave you a tiny sense of security in the dark of the ocean.

Namor helped you in, giving you a small lift as you climbed inside. Though he first insisted on flying you up, grabbing your waist before you began to protest. You trashed and pounded at his chest, demanding that he let you go, he merely laughed before bending his knee for you to step on.

You asked what he was going to wear, if you really were going to such a place where something of this sort was required surely he needed one too. He simply said “You’ll see.”

That was when you learned he could breathe underwater. You stared in shock as he led your metal arm through underwater caves, smiling and talking as if the fact he could do so was absolutely nothing.

You tried not to think about it, that night he saved you, but began to think you should have. You never acknowledged how he did it, the fact he simply had was enough for you. Though this would never have crossed your mind. You supposed it made sense, he was a King— a God—, to his people who could do the same. But even then it still puzzled you, they had blue skin and he did not. They had gills, he did not. His ears were pointed, theirs weren’t. He even had wings on his feet, hell. But perhaps it was seeing him in his natural habitat that surprised you. You’d only ever seen his people, never him.

There may have been a millisecond where you thought you understood him though, what he was. But in fact, you knew nothing even when you felt as if you knew everything. And maybe you did, maybe you just needed reassurance.Maybe you just needed him to say the words himself, to tell you. To soothe you. Because the way he spoke, the way words slid off his tongue and into your soul, made you feel as if a piece inside of you was missing. And his presence was the place they resided, so whenever you were near you felt whole. You felt as if you were home, as if you could trust him. Despite every nerve in your body and thought in your mind, the piece that called you to him was stronger than any force.

Even when the cold and incredible dark of the water surrounded you, even as it still sent a disgusting wave of fear over you, looking at him made all those feelings wash away. You did nothing but watch him lead you down into the depths the entire time. You watched him swim so gracefully it put the gentle swaying of the seaweed to shame.

You didn’t know how long the journey to your destination was, you didn’t even know where you were going. Only following Namor’s lead, you waited and waited to come to a stop. To see something that would indicate something was near.

You were about to ask, where he was leading you, how far and deep in the ocean were you going. That was until the gentle glow of blue lights illuminated him and your view. You watched his smile light up.

He swam faster, leaving you trailing behind as he seemed to perch atop something that looked like a building. You were going to cry out, tell him to come back but the water seemed to push you into his direction. You were beginning to drift away, the control of the suit slipping from you as fear took over once again. But he caught you, gently grabbing your hand before turning you around to see what he had been admiring.

What you saw then made everything come into place. You were so thankful for those fragments of culture that I saw in the cave, believing that was all he had to hide. But this… you now finally understood why he’s kept you there. If you even muttered a word about the cave, what you’d seen, someone might have come looking. Might have found this, you could never do that to them. No this… this was something pure, untouched and different from the world you knew. You would have given every life you could live if it meant to have seen this only once.

He called your name, but you couldn’t look away. A smile began to make its way onto your face, pure utter joy and wonder exploded inside your chest. It filled you, the cold around you seemed to fade and every worry was gone.

“Welcome to Talokan”

It was a city, an underwater city. Ancient mesoamerican architecture sprouted from every inch of the rocky walls and earth, carved carefully and beautifully. They were everywhere, on the seafloor and above. Round, squared, or sharp edged, those buildings covered every inch before you. Large natural plants decorated the surface of them, glowing in a natural blue light that seemed to come from their veins. Weeds swayed with the motions of the water, dancing to the harmonies of life around it. Fish and jellyfish carried that same blue glow as the plants. They floated like beautiful balls of light around you.

A grand pyramid was in the middle of it all, dyed red with hints of green. It loomed and towered over the city. But instead of being separated from everything else, it welcomed the surroundings. United rather than apart, it seemed to compliment the buildings around it rather than the other way around. It spread out, the structures bordering it were parts of it. You couldn’t tell where it ended and the rest started.

That was not the centerpiece though. No, how could it be?

It was the giant, beautiful ball of glowing light.

Huge and brighter than anything you’ve ever seen, it looked like the sun. Its light bounced off every surface, illuminating what you saw now. The glow filled your soul, your heart. That call you always felt when looking towards the ocean, it thrived there.

You hadn’t noticed the whales until one passed over you. A giant, beautiful creature whose song echoed around the walls of the city. So grand, so amazing. You’d never seen one so close.

Though there was something strange about it, you looked closely thinking that the spots scattered across their skin were abnormally large barnacles, but how wrong you were.

It was people. People who rode and grasped the back of those large magnificent creatures. People who could breathe underwater and had gills as well.

You hadn’t exactly caught a good glimpse of what they looked like in water, only having seen them as blurs in the shallow pools of the cave. But you saw now. They looked like any other person on land. Tan, pale, or dark skinned, they looked so human.

Maybe they once were, maybe their ancestors felt the gentle kiss of the sun on the land above. The feel of air filling their lungs and the crisp scent of spring flowers. You wondered what happened for them to end up here.

You once yearned for the water, for what resided in the depths of the unknown expanse. Being here made you think this was it. That this was the place that called and called you every time you set foot on the shore. Was this truly it?

You began to think the pressure of the water was getting to you, that the suit would give in and you’d suddenly wake up in that small hammock of your room. But no, this was real. You grasped the hand that held yours, grounding yourself as you felt like you were floating in absolute bliss.

He called your name again, so smooth and gentle even in the ripples of sound underwater. You responded this time, having to look away before your heart exploded out of your chest.

“Would you like to see more?”

“Yes.” You replied quickly and breathlessly, nodding your head. Tears fell on your cheeks, ones you didn’t even know had formed in the first place.

Namor saw them and gripped your hand tighter. The gentleness of his eyes spread to his face, a soft genuine smile appeared. Real. No sign or hint of wit or mischief. That tense look he constantly wore was gone, vanished like it had the night he was wounded. But it wasn’t vulnerability that took over, it was something you couldn’t quite place.

A longing inside you grew as you tried to figure it out. It consumed your soul and being as you looked at him. Then it clicked.

Fondness, that was it.

You’d been here no longer than a minute but you knew what you were to see would change every emotion you had towards him. Every sliver of stubbornness and anger melted away with that look he gave, gone never to return. It is so easy for humans to surrender to their emotions, so easily influenced by other memories. At least you can say you tried.

You looked back to the world before you, taking a small leap in the water. Soon after he led you further by the hand, beginning his swim once more.

~~~

There was no excuse you could make up to go back to the life you knew before this. Not a single thought or idea could compare to what he just showed you. Why would you even want to leave after experiencing that? Namor showed you the secrets of his world. How unfair and ungrateful would you have to be to deny what he offered you. It was all you wanted and more, a life in the ocean. To be with the water forever.

You believe that if he had shown you Talokan when you first arrived, if he had been honest about what he wants to protect instead of just saying you need to stay with him, you would have said yes without a second thought.

Your blood sang along with the song of the people you heard down there. That ancient voice that kept you awake for years and years came from Talokan. That was it’s home, you knew this now.

You recalled the city and its heart. That giant ball of light made of vibranium, he had explained to you.

“It brought the sun to my people.”

His people. People who lived and thrived in that ancient and forgotten world. You saw children and adults go about their day. All laughing, smiling, trading goods, or playing sports. It was no different than the land above, they were just like any other society. They had their love, lives, people to protect.

You marveled at it even now, seeing beings with gills and swimming skills that would put those who trained their whole lives to shame.

They greeted you and Namor like old friends, wide grins on each of their faces. They weren’t afraid of you, no. They went up to you, bowing and placing their left wrist upon their right, a salute of some sorts to their king before coming and gently touching your suit. They examined you as you did them, not a hint of malice or disgust in their faces. But rather joy and wonder, you tried to listen to what they told you. Syllables and words you didn't know or understand crowded your ears as when all began to talk at once. You tried your best to keep up, but you only understood the few words Nikté had said to you.

Regardless, they all looked so happy. So free.

In a world where all the rules from that up above never existed you begin to fantasize living there.

As yourself, as the person you always wanted to be. Unbound from the shackles of expectations from family and friends. All that you would get judged for around from those on the surface, your gut told you that they never would down in the ocean below.

But, you had family and friends like they did. You had people who missed you, who worried and cared. What would happen if one of those smiling beings you saw had been in the same situation as you? You’d want them to come back home. Why would you keep them away from everything they’ve known?

It had been a few minutes since you returned to the cave with Namor. You sat at the edge of the rocky floor, feet dipped into the water below. He sat next to you, covered in the cape he had previously worn now acting as a towel.

No words had been exchanged since he had told you it was time to come back. Your mind was still in that city, so was your heart. You kept your eyes closed, burning everything you had seen into your mind. Like the amber which once encased the bones of the past, like the way these people upheld and cherished their undiscovered lives.

You kicked your legs back and forth, the splish splash of the water filling the silence of the cave. You hummed to yourself, that same song Nikté sang earlier.

“I know that melody.” Namor suddenly spoke, voice no louder than a whisper. You turn your head to him, only to see he was already looking at you. He was so close, his shoulders nearly touching your own. His hand almost overlapped your own as well, his pinky looked as if it was reaching for your own.

You give him a smile, “Nikté said it was called K’iino’. That means sun right? Was- Is it about the vibranium sun?” You ask.

He nods, a smile grows on his own face at your words. You nod in return. Silence spread throughout the cave again.

You tensed, body stiff from containing all the questions building inside you. You did your best to not say anything, not wanting to pry at him and his reasoning. But you needed to hear him talk, to feel that warmth his voice brought throughout your body. You needed to know, to know why he showed you such a secret. He told you himself, he could not risk his people being compromised.

“Why did you show me Talokan? I don’t— I would have been fine in the cave you didn’t need to show me. I’m just a human from land. I highly doubt I have the right to be shown such a thing-“ The words you had been holding in finally burst, flowing freely before he cut you off.

“Why do you think I gave you the book?” He says.

You quieted. Why did he give you the book?

You blinked at him, mouth in an O shape as you considered the question. You’ve thought about it of course, but never came to a conclusion. Your mind would mostly drift off when thinking about him, about the girl in the book. You never tried to understand exactly why he gave it to you. You assumed it was for you to simply learn the language, obviously that was not just it.

He saw you pause, his brows furrowed and a troubled look flashed upon his face. He shook his head immediately after, brushing away whatever he had been thinking of. Namor finally looked back into your eyes, a flame burning bright in them as he stared intently.

“You had the right to know. I don’t want you to think that I am keeping you here as a prisoner. I don’t want you to feel like one. You are allowed to do what you like, what you please. I gave you the book so…” He paused, trying to find the right words to say. “If you read the whole thing, I had a feeling you would be able to understand why I am keeping you here. If I showed you Talokan, you’d understand even better. I needed you to see what I have to protect, what I am protecting. And that I could protect you too.”

A wave of emotions was sent over you as he spoke those last few words.

Protect you too.

But what was he protecting you from? You weren’t Talokanil, you had been exposed to the world above. You’d lived in it, you came from it. You were born from the dirt and ash unlike those he called his people. You thought of your own people actually.

How similar the lives of both civilizations live. How a mother or father of someone might go so far as to protect their children. Talokan was his, he was their King. Their God. But you had a mother of your own too, a father. Siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles who you know would worry for you as much as he would for a single one of them.

“What would you do if one of your own people got stolen? If the person who held them locked them away where you have no chance of finding them. what would you do?” You ask.

“I’d tear the world apart to find them.”

“And what is to say my family won’t do the same for me?”

He froze, the burning in his eyes stopped. A cold seized over him as he looked stunned. For just a split second, sadness flashed against those brown orbs and you didn't look away.

He said your name, softly and gently. It almost broke your heart to hear him say it. “You want to leave? After I showed you-“

You cut him off, “No! Never, I could not do that to you. To Nikté, to all those people down there. I would never.” You explain. “I just..I simply ask for a week on the surface every month. On land, I have no doubt people are looking for me. I just— I need to let them know I am safe. That I am cared for. I will not tell them anything about you or what I know. I just don’t want them to think I ran away forever.”

Namor tenses and he backs away from you. The close proximity you once shared now distanced. He sighs heavily, throwing his head back. He’s thinking, the lids of his eyes twitching as he knits his brows.

You bite your lip, fidgeting with your fingers as you anxiously wait for his response. The silence between you two is drawn out, the sound of your mingled breathing filling your ears. You do nothing but look at him, study him.

His jaw is clenched, tight and firm. It was so sharp and pointed. Perfectly complimenting his ears. He really was beautiful.

You considered telling him to forget your offer, that you’d be fine without it and quickly storm back to your room. Until he lifted his head, rolling it around his shoulders as a faint crack came from the tensed area.

He sighs again,”One day.”

“What?”

“One day, every month.”

You stare at him again, seems to be the only thing you can do around him. It took a few seconds for the words to truly process into your mind.

“Five days.” You respond, one day was absolutely nothing.

“One.”

“Four!”

He gave you a long look. Something told you he didn’t want to fight. And neither did you. You huff, glaring at him and slightly pouting.

“Three. Three days.” Namor says, voice gruff and somewhat defeated.

Three days. Three was good, right? Longer than one, shorter than a week. It was enough time for a weekend, a weekend with your family every month. Enough time to feel the real warmth and heat of the sun upon your skin. Enough time to feel the grass and dirt to last you until the next month.

“Fine.” You agree. You open your arms to stretch your own tense muscles. You could still feel the weight of the suit on your shoulders, the way it moved in the water.

A yawn escaped you, eyes suddenly growing heavy as you turn back to Namor. He never stopped looking away from you, that soft look from before was there. So gentle, so sweet.

He looked so happy in his city, with everyone. Though you cannot say you truly know him, a piece inside of you did. And it scared you, just how at ease he made he feel. You thought of today, of what he had shown you and how he looked at you. You could still feel his hand on your cheek. Though only the ghost of it, it was still there. Has it always been there?

“You’re tired.” He says, his voice like a lullaby. Sleep called you, he was its companion. That warmth and comfort he brought you doubled now in your drowsy state.

“Mhmm.” You hum in agreement, nodding as well. Your eyes looked down, upon the expanse of him. His tanned skin, the muscles of his body. Giddy feelings swelled inside you, heat grew in your cheeks as they drifted to his left abdomen.

No wound. No scars.You had forgotten about that, when it was the entire reason he even showed you his home.

“You never told me how you healed so quickly..” You begin, eyes looking back up to him. But the second you did, Namor had begun to move.

He swiftly stood up, leaving you staring at his knees. More strong muscles in your line of vision. You could drool.

“That.. Is a story for another time. You must sleep.” He tells you, reaching his hand out to you.

The golden cuffs on his wrist shone in the soft cave light. Glinting and glimmering, you grabbed it. His rough skin welcomed yours, and it almost burned to touch him.

He pulled, a low grunt leaving your lips as you hauled your tired self up. It still felt like you were in the water., arms and knees growing weak at the sudden weight of gravity. You went at the sudden change of position, steadying yourself by squeezing his hand. He squeezed back.

The action had you burning even hotter, rushing to look back into his eyes. Something, anything to ground yourself. To let you know this was real.

And it was. That look in his eyes didn't change, it didn’t waver not one bit. It made warmth spread across your chest. You wanted to hold onto it a bit longer, to never let go of the hand that held yours. But he did.

His hand left yours, leaving a brush of emptiness against it. You almost felt sad, until you saw it come into your line of vision.

He cupped your face as he had earlier. Your body came back to life at it, every ounce of sleep left as he pressed against you.

You could melt in his hands. Your heart pounded in your ears at the flame of his touch. You wanted to speak, to say something. Anything to not let the moment pass and keep it going. You could stay here forever.

But nothing came out, not even a whisper or gasp left you as you opened your mouth to him. You just stared as you had before.

“Rest.” He tells you. “We will talk tomorrow.”

No. You wanted to say.

Now, I want to talk now. I don’t want to leave , not right now.

But sleep washed over you as he pulled his hand away. You clung onto the remanentes of warmth on your cheek. Your tired to fight the sleep that overtook you, but it was too much. You eyes were closing, you couldn’t even think straight.

So you simply nodded, bowing slightly before sluggishly heading back to your room.

~~~

Nikté pulled each pearl from your hair, combing her long fingers carefully through every strand. She massaged your scalp as you kept your eyes closed. She continued humming her song, you almost fell asleep right there.

She kept going, the melody of her voice slowly send you drifting off in the chair of your room. The bed was so close, you wanted to tell her to leave you. To drift off into the world you saw each time you closed your eyes. But you don’t think you would’ve even have enough strength to lift yourself up. To wrap yourself in the blankets waiting for you.

You just knew you needed to go back, to Talokan and to him. Only in your dreams will you find them, and that was enough for you at that moment.

You couldn’t wait any longer, finally giving into the darkness. Knowing you’d be happy to greet what awaited you, you finally slipped into the unknown. Hoping to dream about the sea. The ocean.

El mar.

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Thank you for reading <\3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!!

A/n: also im like extremely sorry if the ending isn’t the best i’ve been busy with school and family 😭😭 but ill be on break soon which will give me time to come back and fix this (hopefully!!)

[pttucker]

Aaaand we're done! \o/

Well... "done" in one sense of the word since I just did a very quick search and apparently there's like another 140 chapters of side stories and counting. Possibly post-epilogue stuff??? Didn't look too closely since I don't want too many spoilers if I can avoid it. I already saw one vague spoiler relating to 49% Dokja's side story. 😢😢😢

Though at least now with the main novel+epilogues finished all of the mysteries have been wrapped up (as far as I can remember).

I guess I'm still curious about the Library, but even if that's never touched upon in any side story chapters, I think I kinda get it with my theories and how he broke up into many, many different Dokjas and/or was two different Oldest Dreams?

Oh, and the stuff with Dokja & 1863's Sooyoung's blurry faces, I would have liked to have seen that resolved. There were mentions of Dokja slowly getting less blurry that were kinda glossed over but nothing concrete ever popped up for why his face was blurry or if/when it fully stopped being blurry? Unless I just missed some subtle thing?? Like I guess the epilogue did mention that Sooyoung had fun writing in stuff about him being the Ugly King but I don't think she made him ugly, that was just her memories of him?? Either way, poor Dokja. 😭

idk maybe I'm the only one obsessed with things like that. (I literally eventually started a separate section in my ORV Scrivener notes just for all the times Dokja's looks are mentioned in any way.) So maybe it just wasn't deemed important to "resolve"? Or, again, it was but I totally missed it.

Or maybe there's still something about the Library and his looks (and other mysteries I may not be currently remembering) in the additional 140+ chapters out there?

Unfortunately, English translations of Chapters 552+ don't all seem to be in one place, or at least I wasn't able to quickly find them in my first search. I'll keep looking, though. Might just have to cobble together the chapters one by one from various sources. If anyone happens to know where I could possibly find them...

Though I'm honestly not certain if I want to immediately jump into them or if I want to give it a moment to breathe. I actually am a little bit disappointed that I jumped right into the 40+ chapter epilogues right after finishing the main story since I feel like it stole some of the impact from him finding his two separate ■■.

Even if I was really happy to see how they continued living on in the system-less world and how Dokja felt after losing all of his companions to be Oldest Dream. Seriously you never get to see those sort of things after the "happy" ending.

And I did love seeing how it all tied back together with Sooyoung being the author and ORV itself being Dokja's story (which Sooyoung also wrote!) which in turn is our story and getting to see Secretive Plotter and the 999ths again and poor Joonghyuk just not knowing what to do with himself after losing his purpose as a protagonist and him and Sooyoung wanting to save their precious Dokja more than anything and both of them coming to understand Dokja better and so on and so forth.

But if nothing else, I do really want to finally read some fanfiction and otherwise engage with fandom now that the big mysteries are solved. And if I can make one final prediction it's going to be that the top fanfic is some kind of modern, no powers gamer AU or something. Because that's just how these fandoms seem to go. 😂

Anyway, I think it should be obvious from my many, many ORV posts but I really enjoyed the novel! I am very happy that so many things were so well foreshadowed, so much was so carefully planned, so many loose ends were tied up in a very satisfying manner, etc. It's very impressive for such a long, looooong story. I mean, just the fact that you could get inklings that something was up with Secretive Plotter before we even hit Chapter 100 yet not have the reveal come until much later is impressive just on its own.

I guess if I had one complaint it'd be that I didn't quite vibe with the whole "multiple walls to open the Final Wall" thing. Like, I totally was into the idea of Dokja's Fourth Wall being the largest fragment, and I actually thought that Jang Hayoung's wall was pretty clever since it's all about commenting/texting others when Jan Hayoung was created due to Dokja's comments.

But I'm not quite so into the Wall of Samsara and Wall That Divides Good and Evil. Like, I do get how they relate to the story, what with Dokja literally reincarnating into multiple worlds himself and the fact that a lot of Dokja's main theme was that he didn't nicely fit into a box of good or evil. I mean, his literal Modifiers are Demon King of Salvation and Watcher of Light and Darkness. Not to mention, Dokja went through a ton of the novel saying that just because they were evil in one turn doesn't mean they're evil in the next and vice versa, as well as the fact that the had companions on both sides of the spectrum.

So I'm not saying that they just came out of nowhere, but personally I find something to be a little off with them when compared to the other two walls? idk these are just my initial thoughts and I might feel completely different once I re-read the novel and can better appreciate things.

Which, speaking of, I'm debating with myself if I want to do the truly ridiculous thing and start this entire novel over right from the beginning in true Dokja fashion or if I want to be good and maybe give some other universe some love. I was looking at The World After The Fall but...uh...

Not to say that things with tiny fandoms aren't also good!!!

But it does make me kinda side-eye it a little and wonder if I shouldn't just read Solo Leveling...

...or read whatever side stories I can find, aaaaaalllllll the fanfic, and then read ORV all over again. 😂

We'll see.

FYI when I do start reacting to the side stories I think I'll use the tag "orv side story" if anyone wants to block it preemptively to avoid spoilers.

[aslostaszoro]

!!ONE PIECE CHAPTER 1086 SPOILERS!!

So as we know, In film Red it was revealed Shanks is a member of the Figarland family-

In the latest chapter we are met with St. Figarland Garling. Who, in the translated version I found "Was a dominating figure who once distinguished himself at a place called God Valley". This can, of course, be thought of in many different ways. But I beleive he may have been the ruler of God's Valleys before it's end. Why? Its in the name. "Figarland" could also be pronounced as "figure land", a land where something of importance went down or happened. Now, how does he tie in with Shanks?

They both share the same name, and therefore have some sort of blood relevance. Shown in the picture of St. Figarland, you can see him weilding a saber of sorts. Similar to Shanks' weapon. We also learn that he is the supreme commander of the holy knight. Yes, whilst the Celestial Dragons are often shown as brass, snotty and increadibley weak this may be what sets them apart from the family. Which sets be into my next speaking point; Haki/Conquerers Haki.

Of course I won't dive into it too much but C.H is said to be an almost physical representation of a leaders spirit, a conquerers. As a Celestial Dragon, this is extremely apparent. He stands above the holy nights as supreme commander, whilst he also mocks St Donquixote Myosgard for protecting scum lower than him. Showing the beliefs of the harsh and cruel ruling of the WG while also enforcing his own strength.

Shanks stands above his crew as an incredibly strong captain, protecting those weaker than him as if they are his family, which is the complete opposite of his relative. He shows after the Big Mom and Kaido fight as well as against the bandits in the start of the manga that he hates when people try and take advantage of others in a weaker state. I beleive this could be from his upbringing on Roger's crew.

Speaking of Roger, let's go back quickly to the photo last shown, baby Shanks. Shanks is depicted wearing a onesie with stars, moons and suns on it. Garling is shown in this chapter to have a haircut in the shape of a crescent moon, linking back to the outfit. But what about the stars and the moons?

As we take a closer look at this guy we can notice he has oddly shaped spikes in his hair on both sides. But why does this come into play? simple. If you looked at him straight forward his hair would be the shape of a star. So now, how can we incorporate the sun?

Roger's voyage ends with Joyboy's secret and reaching laugh tale. Joyboy is also connected with the Sun God Nika devil fruit. Shanks later in his life meets luffy, who digests the fruit and becomes the next Joyboy. Whilst I'm still trying to figure this part out, pun intended, I can see a very important message being displayed through this.

Hopping back to God Valley we have one massive question, how the hell did Shanks end up there? Maybe it was a family trip or by coincidence. But I don't think we'll be getting answers with this little amount information. Which also bugs me. Around Marineford arc when Shanks drinks with Whitebeard he says he's from the West. Perhaps his family perviously ruled there, ruining my previous statement. But I would like to suggest a different angle.

What if it was an alliance between two nations? an alliance which resulted in the blood of two different families combining into one. Maybe thats why the Figarlands are so highly regarded. It can also help my slowly crumbling theory.

Shanks has been shown to be the complete opposite of his relative as I stated earlier. Perhaps, in an almost ironic way, he would rather pretend he was from a "town in the West Sea". He obviously couldn't say he was from Gods Valley, so that small lie could be manageable.

I'll probably end up editing this or reposting this with more theories if I end up with any more idea's, but thats all for now :)

[ninjakk]

WWX meeting LWJ post Burial Mounds escape

The chapters entitled "Evil" (or the more aptly named "ill winds" - 7s), is where we finally see the true extent of how traumatised WWX has become after escaping the Burial Mounds. In my opinion, it has some of the most heartbreaking scenes in the whole novel.

His lips trembled, saying something in silence. Jiang Cheng stood up almost immediately. It was Wei WuXian! However, apart from the face, from top to bottom, this person was nowhere like the past Wei WuXian. Wei WuXian had clearly been a bright, high-spirited boy. The tips of his eyes and eyebrows had always retained the hint of a grin, always refusing to walk properly. Yet, this person was entirely enveloped in a cold, dark energy. He was handsome, yet pale-faced, his smile eerie.

Chapter 62 ExR translations

In all honesty, the minute I read the description of WWX in this chapter, a tear rolled down my cheek. In fact, I continued to cry silently throughout this chapter as I read it. The difference in WWXs appearance and personality just broke my heart to read. To some extent, the fact we never fully find out what WWX went through during those three months trapped in the Burial Mounds, could almost be worse than knowing. With MXTX leaving it up to our own imaginations to fill in the gaps on his torturous time there, most of our minds probably go somewhere awfully dark and extremely unpleasant, very quickly.

Wen ZhuLiu couldn’t attend to both sides at the same time, blundering amid the chaos. As he looked to the side and saw Wei WuXian’s cold smile, he threw himself at him. Both of the two on the roof frowned. Lan WangJi smacked down. The tiles shattered and the roof collapsed. Through the roof, he descended into the second floor of the courier station and blocked Wen ZhuLiu from Wei WuXian.

In an effortlessly cool fashion, LWJ descends from the broken roof in a shower of tiles and a flutter of white robes, in order to protect WWX. If WWX had been his usual self at this point, I think he might have swooned! It was pretty epic. It's a 10 from me as far as dramatic entrances go! LWJ, falling with style.

WenZhuLiu’s large, heavy body had been lifted up by the surging whip and was now dangling in the air. Immediately, there came the crunching sounds of his neckbones cracked. At the same time, Wei WuXian’s pupils shrunk. He took out a flute from beside his waist and spun around, standing up. The ghoul child and blue-faced woman who had been tearing at Wen ZhuLiu quickly backed off to his side and stared with vigilance at the two strangers.

Meanwhile JC takes advantage of the sudden distraction and attacks WZL, using Zidian to garrote the man who murdered his mother and father. At the same time, the minute WWX sees LWJ and JC, he does not react the way he should. Even in the current circumstances, you would assume he would be happy to see JC, at the very least. And let's be honest, WWX is usually rather excited to see LWJ! But seeing them just now only evoked negative emotions, resulting in WWXs pupils contracting. Shrinking pupils usually indicates anger or anxiety - and I think it's safe to assume it's most likely anxiety here. From his reaction, we can see WWX seems almost nervous that he's been found out. He is somewhat uncomfortable that LWJ and JC have witnessed his behaviour - he wasn't expecting an audience!

The ghoul child snarled at Lan WangJi and Jiang Cheng, not at all hiding its enmity. Wei WuXian raised his hand slightly for it to withdraw its fangs. His gaze swept back and forth between Lan WangJi and Jiang Cheng. Among the three, nobody spoke up. A few moments later, Jiang Cheng waved his arm and tossed something over. Wei WuXian caught it without a second thought. Jiang Cheng, “Your sword!” Wei WuXian’s hand slowly dropped. He looked down at Suibian and only responded after a pause, “… Thank you.”

Again, if WWX is around things aren't usually that quiet! As such, there is an awkward moment where no one speaks. This is most likely because the two who fell with style only minutes ago, are probably in shock at what they have witnessed. WWX is uncharacteristically silent, possibly because he is worried they will judge him for the severity of his actions and the method he is using to extract such vicious revenge. In the end JC finally breaks the ice because he is simply not as concerned about the whole situation. He's relieved to see WWX is back and seems intrigued by his new cultivation method - but he doesn't seem concerned by the stark difference in WWXs personality and demeanor. If anything, JC seems positively delighted to see WWX so fixated on unspeakable revenge. The coldness around WWX starts to dissipate as he notices JC is not treating him any different from usual and he starts to open up a little more. Although he's still reluctant to fully address everything.

From the corner of his eye, Wei WuXian saw that Lan WangJi had always been looking at them.

WWX has been watching LWJ from the corner of his eye since they first appeared. The fact he has been purposefully avoiding his gaze shows us he's nervous and worried about how LWJ might perceive him now. WWX has always wanted LWJ's attention, now he has it under less than ideal circumstances - which is just so heartbreakingly poignant. Instead of having his assumptions confirmed, he chooses to ignore LWJ, which is something WWX has never done before.

Wei WuXian, “I just got out, hey? I heard that both shijie and you were fine, and you were rebuilding the YunmengJiang Sect and forming an alliance, so I went to kill a few Wen-dogs first to lighten up your burden, and do some contributions. In these three months, you’ve been working hard.”

WWX has somehow received information regarding JC and JYL. It's safe to surmise he would have been very anxious to find out if they were okay. Of course on a re-read, we can probably speculate WWX would have been keen to know how JC was doing post golden core transfer as well.

So from the above we can assume that over the past few days, since WWX escaped the Burial Mounds, he most likely asked around regarding the people he cares most about. In fact, it's probably the first thing he did alongside cleaning himself up and buying new clothes. There is a telling sign that WWX has also been enquiring (or at the very least, listening and taking interest in what people are saying) about LWJ as well. Which we'll get to in a minute. Just as WWX starts to thaw out and open up a little, LWJ finally calls out to him.

Lan WangJi suddenly spoke up, “Wei Ying.” He had been standing quietly at the side. As he spoke, both Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng turned to him. It was as though Wei WuXian finally remembered to greet him. He nodded slightly, “HanGuang-Jun.”

We know from earlier in the chapter, WWX is very well aware that LWJ is present, just as he always is whenever LWJ is nearby. So it's not that he forgot to greet LWJ, but more he's reluctant to do so. It's quite obvious WWX is nervous about LWJs inevitable reaction towards his new cultivation technique.

WWX calling LWJ by his title when greeting him in the above scene is actually rather significant. This is the first time he's ever done so in his first life thus far. From what we can gather, LWJ has only just obtained the title, presumably during the Sunshot Campaign. Although we aren't told this outright, it's the only conclusion we can arrive at due the information provided in the novel. So technically, WWX shouldn't know anything about his title yet. He's only been back a few days and the cultivation world is at the start of a war. As amazing as LWJ is, it's probably one of the least important facts that you would tell a random person enquiring about the war and the Jiang sect. Unless WWX specifically asked about Second Young Master Lan... because he was worried about him also.

Personally, I think it's pretty safe to assume that LWJ obtained his title during his most recent valiant efforts during the Sunshot Campaign. LWJ has not been addressed as HanGuang-Jun until this moment in time onwards. It's not until we read the second Incense Burner chapter from the extras, that we get more evidence that this is most likely the case.

The Lan WangJi of tonight’s dream still appeared to be young, but he was more like the one Wei WuXian saw in the Cave of the Xuanwu, about seventeen or eighteen.

Chapter 119

As we can see from the above, in one of the incense induced dreams, WWX meets a 17/18 year old LWJ. He mentions that LWJ looks around the age he was during their time together in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter. WWX then goes on to playfully call LWJ by his title HanGuang-Jun, while teasing and provoking him. But we find out that the 17/18 year old DreamJi doesn't understand this reference, because he has not received the title yet.

He didn’t have the spare energy to think about whom HanGuang-Jun was either, his voice harsh, “Wei Ying!!!”

With this in mind, it only gives us a short period of time for LWJ to have gained the title amid the nearly four months in between their time in the cave and the two meeting in the above chapter.

WWX addressing LWJ as 'HanGuang-Jun' during Chapter 62 holds so much meaning - even more than some might have noticed on a first read. WWX is already on the defensive with LWJ, because he knows how his sect feels about what they deem "improper" cultivating methods. As such, we could conclude he's drawing a line between them by using LWJ's formal title when he finally addresses him. It's a stark contrast to his usual casual way of addressing LWJ by his birth name. But WWX goes on to use his birth name after greeting him, so it seems this might not be the case.

As I said earlier, WWX using LWJ's title is also a telling sign he has been asking (or perhaps heard) about him post Burial Mounds escape. This could actually be quite a sweet little slip-up that shows us just how much he truly cares for LWJ. WWX literally escapes hell on earth and has to find out how LWJ is doing - which is just too cute! It's certainly very much in his character to worry about LWJ, as we've seen numerous times before. It's very interesting, because in the original version of MDZS, it seems WWX does not use his title during the chapter in question. MXTX seems to have added this small detail in when editing the novel - which means it is most likely there for a reason. Personally I think this is MXTX subtly hinting at WWXs feelings for LWJ, showing the reader he was not only thinking about him, but concerned for his welfare - just as he was with JC and JYL. Adding such a tiny detail to quite a sad and gory chapter is a beautifully delicate, creative way to show that underneath the trauma and thirst for revenge, WWX is still the same sweet natured person he has always been. LWJ is always on WWXs mind, even when his mind is in turmoil.

He walked one step forward, “What means do you use to control such dark creatures?” The curvature of Wei WuXian’s lips dropped slightly as he glanced at him. Jiang Cheng had also heard the dissonant tone, “Second Young Master Lan, what do you mean by this?” Lan WangJi’s eyes were glued to Wei WuXian, “Answer me.”

LWJ is worried about WWX and the technique he is using to control the ghosts that are currently present. But WWX is reluctant to explain how he is controlling them, because he has already guessed how LWJ is going to react.

“Lan Zhan, we’ve just met each other again after so long and you’re already trying to catch me. That’s not nice, is it?”

Although, WWX originally called LWJ by his new title, he has reverted back to using his birth name - even though there is some tension between them. Personally I think this shows WWX is showing he is hurt, rather than angry with LWJ at this moment in time. WWX is still clinging onto the familiarity he feels he has with LWJ, trying to reason with him and avoid conflict.

“I thought that we could be considered familiar with each other. You starting a fight with me without saying anything does sound a bit heartless, doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately although LWJ's questions come from a place of concern for him, WWX thinks LWJ is acting this way because he does not like the cultivation technique he is using. WWX is notably upset that LWJ seems to oppose his new method. Learning how to harness resentful energy and cultivating the ghostly path was the only way WWX could survive in such an awful place, doing so saved his life and allowed him to escape. So WWX is probably feeling very frustrated and rejected by LWJs attitude, because WWX had no choice but to cultivate this new path. Not that LWJ knows the reason behind any of this of course, but LWJ jumping to conclusions has clearly cut WWX rather deeply. It's quite sad to see WWX trying to reason with LWJ and appeal to any feelings of friendship he might harbor for him. To me, his reaction to LWJ's attitude shows us how much he truly values any relationship they might have. Rather than arguing or fighting him, he tries to diffuse the situation.

Wei WuXian crossed his flute in front of him, “That’s too much, isn’t it? Why so unfriendly? Lan Zhan, just what in the world do you want to do?” Lan WangJi spoke one word at a time, “Go back to Gusu with me.” Hearing this, both Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng were surprised. Quickly afterward, Wei WuXian laughed, “Go back to Gusu with you? To the Cloud Recesses? Why go there?” He immediately seemed to realize, “Oh. I forgot. Your uncle Lan QiRen hates crooked people like me. You’re his proudest disciple, so of course you’re the same as him, haha. I refuse.”

WWX is still using LWJ's birth name, even though tension is starting to soar. He's still trying to be as friendly as possible towards LWJ, making light of the situation as best he can. WWX even brushes off what he assumes is LWJ's insistence he accompanies him back to his sect, presumably for punishment. Of course although WWX stated he "forgot" about the Lan sects views on certain cultivation methods, we know this is simply not true. His body language and reluctance to acknowledge LWJ is enough proof he is lying. Not to mention less than four months ago, while stuck in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter, WWX was very cautious mentioning anything about the iron sword he found. So we can see that he must remember quite clearly how LWJ's sect would react to his cultivation method.

He gazed at Wei WuXian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.” Wei WuXian, “I can pay.” Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well.” Wei WuXian, “Damage or not, how much damage, I know it the most. As for my heart, it’s my heart after all. I know what I’m doing.” Lan WangJi, “Some things you cannot be able to control at all.” Displeasure flashed across Wei WuXian’s face, “Of course I can control it.”

WWX is obviously losing patience with LWJ's insistence that this new cultivation method will harm him. He tries to reason with LWJ further, telling him that he knows this new method better than anyone (he developed it himself after all!) and he can control it.

Lan WangJi walked a step closer. He seemed to be about to speak again when Wei WuXian closed his eyes, “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” Lan WangJi paused. He had suddenly been angered, “… Wei WuXian!”

This sentence is just so heartbreaking to read. It's a rather cutting remark, especially considering we know how LWJ truly feels about WWX. The fact WWX shuts his eyes and is unable to meet LWJ's gaze as he said it is very telling as well. Shutting your eyes while talking to someone is an act of shutting them out. It's an unconscious gesture often called eye blocking, a reflexive movement from someone who is lying and anxious- which is definitely the case here. WWX wants others to care about him and his heart, especially when it comes to LWJ, on a subconscious level.

WWXs comment certainly struck a nerve with LWJ, so much so he lost his composure and called WWX by his courtesy name. LWJ is visibly distressed by WWX's apparent disregard for his own worth, which of course is a lie, hence him shutting his eyes. But he is also hurt by WWX using the comment to draw a line between them, to place LWJ as an "other" in his life. WWX doesn't mean this of course, right up until this very point he was still clinging to hope they were friends or at the very least, familiar with one another. It is only when he is so hurt and angered by LWJs attitude that he reminds LWJ he has always said they weren't close - so how would he know anything about WWX. LWJ pauses because his own previous reluctance to acknowledge they are acquainted has finally come back to bite him on that sexy ass of his.

Wei WuXian had been angered as well, “Lan WangJi! Do you really have to make this difficult at such a point in time? You want me to go to the Cloud Recesses for the GusuLan Sect’s confinement punishment? Who do you think you are, what do you think the GusuLan Sect is?! You really think that I won’t resist?!”

LWJ using his courtesy name is the final push WWX needed to get angry. He shouts LWJ's courtesy name back at him and rebukes his attempt to bring him back to his sect. The atmosphere in the room has become extremely belligerent, resulting in WWX and JC working in tandem to argue with LWJ. Finally JC takes a swipe at LWJ and verbally kicks him while he's down, with one of the harshest remarks I think is in the novel.

“Apologies for saying something so blunt, but even if we get to the bottom of this, Wei WuXian isn’t from your sect either. It’s not in the GusuLan Sect’s place to punish him. No matter whom he goes back with, it wouldn‟t be you.” Hearing this, Lan WangJi’s expression froze. He looked up at Wei WuXian, the lump at his throat trembling, “I…” Before he could continue, a thin scream came from Wen Chao at the corner. Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng immediately turned around.

There's no other way to say this... When I read this comment from JC I literally swore. Out loud. Like a crazy person. Some will argue otherwise I'm sure, but as I've mentioned in my previous meta, I fully believe that JC suspects WX have unspoken feelings for each other. Granted he's probably not aware of their exact feelings, but he has certainly picked up on something. MXTX has confirmed as such herself as well. JC is definitely threatened by LWJ and his usual influence over WWX. Personally, I think the comment above goes on to prove all of this further. It all seems very personal and the last sentence comes across as deliberately harsh and hurtful. Why say that to him if he doesn't suspect it would hurt LWJ to hear such a cutting remark. JC is definitely his mother's son, with such a viciously sharp tongue. JC even witnessed LWJ's concern for WWX a few days prior, when he noticed JC carrying Suibian and asked about him. But now, he's leveraging the current situation to drive an even bigger wedge between WWX and LWJ.

What's even more upsetting is that LWJ starts to visibly shows his emotions at this point, obviously finally unable to hide the distress and worry for WWX. Under normal circumstances WWX would have noticed this instantly - because he's exceptionally good at reading people. He has even been able to read LWJ (at times) since their time together at the Cloud Recesses, he just refuses to accept it! If WWX was in the right frame of mind, he'd have been hit by LWJs sudden display of emotions and perhaps understood his true intentions weren't what he had first assumed. Sadly WWX is too traumatised and wrapped up in his current overwhelming thirst for revenge to notice anything other than the screams of his dying enemy. As WWX and JCs attention becomes focused elsewhere, preparing to kill WC and WZL, they "suggest" LWJ leave the room, his assistance no longer required.

A few moments later, Lan WangJi turned around and walked down the stairs. After he went out of the courier station, he stood before the door for a long time, but he never left. He didn’t know how long had passed when the silent nightwas ripped apart by a shrill wail. Lan WangJi looked up behind him, his white robes and forehead ribbon fluttering in the cold wind.

The night had passed. The sun in the sky was about to rise. And the sun on the ground was falling.

I think the fact LWJ leaves the building, but still stays nearby is symbolic of his resolve to stay near WWX and protect him no matter what. LWJ will not give up on WWX and he later proves he never does - even if he might lose his own life in doing so.

The final paragraph of this chapter is just so poetic. Personally I think this has a double meaning. Obviously it is symbolic of the fall of the Wen sect, the self-proclaimed sun of the cultivation world who lorded over the other sects from their lofty position. But I think this could also show the unspeakable emotions LWJ is feeling at this moment in time. WWX is a cheerful and vibrant person, he's very enigmatic and LWJ must absolutely adore this. He is the brightest person in LWJs life, so it wouldn't be much of a stretch to claim WWX is the light of his life - or in other words, the sun. As such, this could also symbolise LWJ's fear that WWX is also falling. That WWX is losing himself, darkening his heart and becoming something else, because of his thirst for revenge and the cultivation method he has created. Obviously we know that WWXs heart is not darkening and his method isn't harmful, which LWJ eventually realises as well.

Unfortunately the whole cultivation world begins to turn against WWX and this marks the start of his demis and LWJs sun finally setting. He tries everything in his power to protect it, to keep it shining and prevent it from descending. But sadly LWJ is unable to stop his beloved sun from burning out. Then, just as there is always sunshine after darkness, LWJ gets a second chance to protect his bright shining sun and this time he will not let it fall, because he will always be there to catch it.

[phant0m-l0rd]

I wanted to share this cool find I made a few weeks ago while going through some of my uncle's old music magazines from the early 80s : an article from June 1984 written by Hervé Picart about a little up and coming band called Metallica... Finding this article felt like opening a time capsule.

(Magazine: BEST N°191, June 1984, French.)

I translated the article to English for the non-French speakers- translation after the cut:

Everything is currently changing on the good old West Coast. Just as we thought Frisco and Los Angeles forever attached to FM rock, poppy hits and beach boy philosophy, a surprising push of hard fever has come to contaminate them. Van Halen is no longer alone. Mötley Crüe, Heaven, and many others are shaking up the prophet kingdom in California, to such an extent that it might soon be necessary to rebaptise the Golden Gate "Metal Gate". Among all these new groups which are currently candidates to convert Jerry Garcia to heavy music and force everyone to trade their flower patterned bermuda for a black leather jacket, Metallica is without a doubt the most significant, and the most jostling act. These Californians have only released one album as of right now, but an album of such power, and accompanied by such emotion that a regular dose of Metallica has become a priority for all metalheads worthy of that name. There is no doubt both from a musical standpoint and from a purely emotional one that America now beholds its own Iron Maiden. Nothing less.

Like always in the case of rising waves, it was a compilation of various heavy groups, created in 1982 by the little local label Metal Blade Records and baptised "Metal Massacre", which revealed to the public of aficionados and curious minds alike the existence of Metallica. Their unique title, the henceforth mythical "Hit the lights", crushed all competition like Maiden's "Sanctuary" had done on the legendary "Metal For Muthas". "Hit the lights", it was a sort of sonic whirlwind which makes one want to take from all bands known for their label of "speed" that very label and reserve it for Metallica. The gang was then at the tail-end of their first chapter and was finishing off their work with their first formation, as five, with two guitarists.

Of this initial quintet, today there only remains the singer/rhythm guitarist James Hetfield and the drummer Lars Ulrich. The others, exhausted, passed the baton to the bassist Cliff Burton (speaking of which, treacherous minds have said ever since his solo "Anesthesia" that he had a dinosaur for a teacher), and the electrifying lead guitarist Kirk Hammett. As evidenced, Hetfield and Hammett are the two poles of Metallica, one with his warm and powerful voice which lends itself well to choruses of miraculously melodic quality amongst such chaos, and the other with his totally insane solos. Visibly, Kirk Hammett has learned to play his Flying V thinking it was a machine gun because he seems to create blasts more than anything. His virtuosity, the speed of his going along the fretboard inevitably make you dizzy.

After having blown minds from the get-go thanks to "Hit the lights", Metallica found a peculiar glory as immediate as it was underground, as those wired into heavy music consider it the pinnacle of power to be able to share, like sharp conspirators, precious copies of cassettes of demo tapes the band had made in order to make the rounds among record labels. While some official labels, rather frightened, quickly closed the door on them, the incredible interest from the underground scene acted like propaganda for the group, from Frisco to LA. Metallica then decided to play this game in their favour and opted for the small label Megaforce in order to release their first album, the crushing "Kill 'em all", very quickly released in England by the knowing people of Music for Nations, then later here by Bernett.

This more than mighty album does a good job in presenting two different aspects of Metallica. On one hand, relatively short songs, but hyper-accelerated, like "Hit the lights", the famous "Motorbreath", or the terrific "Whiplash". On the other, much longer tracks, composed of various sequences which battle each other, superposing riffs, rhythmic sections syncopated to an extreme, and more labyrinthine tracks that undeniably make one think of Iron Maiden. And all of that magnetised by the two bewitching Flying Vs, that of Hetfield which sounds like a metallic cavalcade (that of the "Four horsemen" of the apocalypse), and that of Hammett which comes again and again like a Mirage plane attacking. Midway between Motörhead and Maiden, then.

Ever since this incandescent record which has made them appear in Europe like the saviours of American rock, Metallica is progressively emerging from its lair. This spring, they were in Europe recording a new album. "Ride the Lightning", which will come out in June when they'll come to shake the first swarms of French fans, will give you all the occasion to fully integrate their healthy maxim, "Bang that head that doesn't bang"!!!

- Hervé Picart

Discography:

- In French pressing: "Kill 'em all" (Bernett- Musidisc)

- Imported:

"Seek and destroy " (max 45 live tours)

"Metal up your ass" (other version of "Kill 'em all")

[samystar329]

Darius and Draven have a younger sister

//English version I apologize if it is confusing but I translated it on Google I hope you can still enjoy it and that you like it :3//

Life had been difficult for you, three poor orphans fighting to survive, it was a very common situation in a time of war like the one you were experiencing, and even more difficult, with a younger sister.

The little girl had been born just two months before the death of her parents, when they died they undoubtedly left them with a great responsibility, well…more like Darius…he quickly understood that from that moment on surviving was would become a challenge.

In the days after his parents died, several people who knew them offered to help, but only for the little girl. Nobody wanted to be responsible for a couple of kids who would be difficult to control…they wanted the girl who didn't even have a name at that time.

Of course Darius refused even Draven, he threw a stone in the face of an unfortunate man who dared to offer money for the life of his little sister as if it were an object or cattle; No, that would never happen. They preferred to starve rather than give away or even sell their sister. Of course there were people who told them the same sermons "how are they going to support that little girl? They are just children, how will they be able to take care of her… it will be a miracle if she makes it past 5 years"; They always gave negative feedback until they stopped insisting.

"Well, they finally stopped insisting," a little Draven exclaimed happily, "we're never going to let anything happen to you, little sister," he says, making faces to make her laugh.

Darius just watched him, at first Draven was disappointed to see that she had been a girl and not another boy to play rough with and basically be a bully, but soon they both fell in love with her.

Draven was still too young to understand the responsibility of a girl of that age, Darius was already a little older, he had already experienced what it was like to take care of a baby when Draven was born, he knew the basics of taking care of a baby, but Now it was different, they were alone without a mother to calm and care for her children or a father to provide them with sustenance or protection…now he would have to do it.

-those guys who are stupid if they think we will hand over our sister that easily, HA will first have to face the great and powerful…DRAAAVEEEN!-he shouts proudly

"Brother, this is not a game, taking care of a baby is difficult, I need you to help me more than ever, we must be united," the oldest said seriously.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine. She's lucky to have a pair of strong and brave brothers," he boasted. "We'll be fine, you said it as long as we're together."

Darius smiled, Draven was still quite young, a proud and excited child, but he was right together they would conquer the world, and he would not stop fighting for his brothers.

-And what name are we going to give her, brother? -He asks his brother.

-name…?-think for a moment, a light breeze blows in the fields where they were walking, they were green and full of flowers and trees full of fruits, it was one of the few green fields that remained, that field of course It would not last green forever, sooner or later the war would reach him and he would be marked by it, taking away all life and leaving nothing but ashes and death in its wake, just as it happened in the lives of these children.

-I don't know…- last answer, they would have time to think about that, now the most important thing was to survive.

He didn't know what would await him in the future, he didn't know how he was going to feed them and take care of them, it was a challenge that he was willing to accept no matter what the cost, they would survive…

"Together they would conquer the World"

//I really don't know if I should give the girl a name or let the reader be added What do you think?//

[dustedmagazine]

Aidan Baker et al — Trio Not Trio series (Gizeh)

It’s not as if collaboration over distance wasn’t a thing before March 2020 (it very comfortably and significantly predates the Internet, for one thing), but it quickly became a lockdown (and post-lockdown) truism that COVID accelerated and to some degree normalized that form of collaboration. Nadja’s Aidan Baker already had a lengthy track record of teaming up with all sorts of other artists (both solo and in is his duo with Leah Buckareff), and when everything changed he’d already been contemplating doing a series of trios. A live performance? An installation? When any sort of everyone-in-one-room affair quickly became impossible for the foreseeable future, the idea got adapted into the Trio Not Trio series, which combines both in-person and remote playing with a number of different collaborators, casting a wide net and then creating a series of groups with Baker and two other musicians. For each, Baker and one partner would get together in the studio, work improvisationally, and then send the tapes to the third to add what they would; then each set of recordings were tweaked and rearranged slightly so that all five came in at around an hour apiece.

Even the number of instalments is a mark of the project’s success; Baker originally planned on three trios and got so many positive responses he had to expand. Baker plays guitar throughout and always includes a drummer, but sought to recruit differing instrumentation for the last spot. Each Trio Not Trio release has track names corresponding to the ordinal numbers matching the position of the tracks (so first, second, third, etc.) translated into a different language; the album titles also take this pattern (so first, second, third, etc. but in different languages). Befitting the wide range of playing styles, genres and backgrounds that all of the collaborators brought to the series, the results are varied enough it’s worth looking at each entry in turn.

Yn Gyntaf

Welsh for “firstly,” the initial entry in the series features Oneida drummer John Colpitts (aka Man Forever) and vocalist Stacy Taylor (aka Sarff). It’s also the only one where the drummer of the trio wasn’t the one present for the initial recording. Colpitts is a powerhouse and Taylor’s wordless singing packs its own punch, but for the first five of the seven tracks here, the trio keeps things spectral and foreboding. It’s only when Baker’s guitar splits open the beginning of “Chweched” with two tracks to go that all that potential energy is converted into roiling catharsis (admittedly those two tracks do cover a solid half hour between them). Both halves work well on their own, but the collision of the two is the strongest part of Yn Gyntaf, suggesting the series’ reluctance to settle into one predictable mode even on a trio-by-trio basis.

Siguiente

The second instalment brings in My Disco drummer Rohan Rebeiro and baritone saxophonist Sofía Salvo. All three play this hour loose, spacey and abstract, with all instruments frequently making sounds pretty far away from their standard expressions. Whether it’s the sparse, alien, clicking and droning soundscape of “Primeras (Pts I y II),” the prowling baritone sax haunting “Cuarto,” or the slowly accruing damage of the closing “Septimo,” it is immediately clear that each group is going to bring very different sensibilities and possibilities to the work.

Trzecia

Baker frequently works in various genres in and adjacent to heavy metal, and fans of that side of his work might have their ears perk up seeing that Trzecia brings in Khanate/Insect Ark drummer Tim Wyskida and Pinkish Black’s Daron Beck on keyboards. “Pierwsza” isn’t very brutal at all though, starting with Wyskida’s skittering taps, Beck adding graceful piano accents, and Baker mostly staying subliminal/droning. It’s the closest the series comes to sounding like, say, the Necks. Most of the hour stays in this kind of exploratory mood, with Wyskida frequently leading the way. Only on the closing sixteen minutes of “Szósta” does the hammer come down, Baker and Beck grinding in tandem while Wyskida propels them.

Yonbanme

The fourth entry also includes the series’ second singer in the form of Ayami Suzuki (who also provides electronics), as well as journeyman drummer Tobias Humble. Whereas on Yn Gyntaf Stacy Taylor’s voice was central, giving an element for the listener to follow through the hour, here Suzuki often hangs back, with her voice almost merging with the wash of sound on the ethereal “Nibanme” for example. But then on the more heavily layered title track she also provides the closest thing the series has to discernible lyrics (good luck transcribing them though). The instalment with the fewest tracks (five) and so the longest average track times, Yonbanme may be the only trio to (almost) replicate the instrumental setup of a previous one, but that only highlights how distinctly each collaborator adds to the proceedings.

Letzte

The title here is “last” (not “fifth”) in German, and for the closing trio Baker brings in Berlin’s Jana Sotzko (Point No Point, others) on drums and Melissa Guion (aka MJ Guider) on guitar/bass/electronics. As you might expect from the rest of the series, that setup does not mean we are about to get anything at all like a conventional power trio. Guion frequently laces Baker and Sotzko’s in-the-room interplay with drifting atmospherics, from the gradual haze of “Erste” to the cavernous echoes of “Fünfte.” The closing title track sends the whole project off with a fuzzy, surging valediction, a fittingly satisfying end for a project that demonstrated significant sonic and emotional range within the various modulations of a deliberately specific format. Maybe Trio Not Trio could have five-not-five entries someday?

Ian Mathers

[hraishin]

I'm writing a book

So, I've talked about this before but I've never really did anything to show my commitment to writing an original story. This particular story has been in my mind since 2017, when I wrote the first version of it. As you can imagine, six years can change a lot of things, including how you see a story you write and how you told that story. Now, six years later, I'm finally rewriting the story in a way I feel like it's worth to tell, with more meaning than the one I wrote when I was 17, going on 18, and hadn't even realized who I was yet. Now, I have the first chapter/prologue of that story ready and translated into english too, and I want to share it with others.

Keep it in mind that this is just the start and that things might change in the future, but I'm happy with how this looks for now, so, please, enjoy this if you want to give this little story I created a chance!

P.S.: The book is currently nameless, but I'll get to it (some day lmao) I'm also thinking about doing something with my ko-fi to give everyone an update on the story's progress and also to talk more about the characters (god knows I have a lot to talk about when it comes to my ocs haha)

Link to the story in Brazilian Portuguese (original language): X Link to the English translation: X Link to my ko-fi: X

And here's a sneak peek under the cut so you know what you're getting yourself into hehe:

The creature sits on the ground, the noise of chains echoing through the room with its movement. Its lips tremble, cracked and dry, while tears wet its cheeks. The sound that leaves its mouth is a quiet whimper, the sound of a child in fear, big green eyes staring at the only two figures that are standing a few feet from it. In the eyes of those who watch it cry, it doesn’t find pity, only weak curiosity; after all, the creature is crying, but it remains quiet. They expected more noise coming from a child.

“Daithi,” calls one of the figures. The creature follows the sound of their voice until green eyes find the ones of the woman who speaks. Stars shine inside them, a universe inside two orbs that look at it with indifference. “You haven’t given your opinion on the child yet.”

“And should I?” Says the other presence. The creature turns its eyes to him, finding eyes as black as the darkness of the night. Different from the woman’s, the man’s eyes find contempt. “It’s a freak, my lady. And to think that the blood of the Fae runs in her veins…”

The woman’s lips curve, some discomfort for the words said showing in her expression, as if she didn’t enjoy how the man spoke. Even so, the creature sees that she doesn’t disagree fully: the creature knows the woman sees her as a freak, although she doesn’t want to admit it so openly like the man by her side.

The stars in her eyes move with the movement of her face, and the creature forgets for a moment about the iron chains burning the skin of its ankles and wrists, admiring the woman in front of it. Star Eyes seems to soften with the look and clear admiration, even if just a little. Darkness Eyes notices, his expression turning even more serious.

“Lorell,” Darkness Eyes calls, and his voice demands attention. “This creature already lived more than it should. She’s six, your subordinate hid her for six years- It’s time to end this.”

The creature shakes. It is young, but it knows what’s happening — its mother wasn’t stupid, she knew what could happen if she was found out, and she warned a creature since it was very young. The tears fall a little stronger now on its face, chest moving quickly while its breathing grows. Green eyes turns to the stars in those judging eyes and make a silent wish: the creature wants to live.

“Do you have a name, child?” Asks Star Eyes.

For the first time the creature speaks, its voice shaking and failing due to the crying.

“Mace.”

“Mace,” repeats Star Eyes. She knows — the creature knows that she knows — that that’s not her true name. “And do you have any notion of what you are, Mace?”

[pennyserenade]

i saw that there’s going to be a new x-files series developed by ryan coogler and BOOKED IT to your blog!!! what do you think??! how do you feel??!!

first off: i love you omg??? i love that show so much--more than words can adequately express, as i'm sure you're aware--and im honored you want to hear my thoughts about this news.

at first i said that i wasn't going to say anything because admittedly not all my thoughts are great, and i don't want to shit on it before it even gets the chance to prove its worth. i'm not at all opposed to diversity being added into the x-files, or the show being developed by a person of color. in fact that's one of the things i'm most excited for regarding this. the entire time i watched the original show i noticed the startling lack of diversity in the cast, the plot, and the writers room. the original show does suffer at times from being written namely by white men and i think the x-files reboot probably will do better in terms of those things. at least i certainly hope

what i'm hesitant about is the fact that i don't see the x-files working in the modern day. when they did the revival back in 2018 (? i don't remember the exact year because i wasn't there yet, but i think it was around that time) it was obvious that they were all scrambling to make the plots work in the contemporary age. so much of the conflict in the x files is wrapped around the fact that fox mulder cannot prove that the government is doing all of these heinous shit, and that the paranormal and extraterrestrial stuff is real. he never could collect any tangible evidence that couldn't be ruined and he never could garner enough public support even if he did have it to build up to anything reputable before it was. they were always able to discredit him. now he could do that. we live in an age where everyone has a cell phone and an opinion and we can all get things to people faster than the speed of lightening.

but also there's the fact that every one has a cell phone and an opinion. it might not work, not because the characters can get evidence quickly and then, bam, the conflict is all gone, but also because conspiracies aren't what they used to be. we live in paranoid and tired age. our computers track us, companies own our data, and we see more ads in one year than someone in the 1960s saw in their entire lives. since 2020 i've heard the united states government twice confirm the existence of aliens and ufos. and then you've got shit like qanon and the campaigns of constant misinformation and no one is exactly sure what is real and what isn't. put fox mulder from the 90s on twitter or reddit for a week and you've got a terrible mess on your hands. in the revival scully literally tells him, "mulder the internet isn't good for you." much of the same can be said about the entire x-files in general. it simply doesn't have that magic that it did in the 90s when you translate it for the modern day.

my last complaint is the fact that i love mulder and scully so much, and the idea of anyone but these two characters doing the government work they did feels sacrilegious. i don't want other people playing fox mulder and dana scully, and i don't want other people playing remixed versions of fox mulder and dana scully. if they're going to start new i sure hope they start from scratch because these are two characters who are so beloved and cared about. i think it's almost disrespectful to tread on the paths they already walked.

having said all that i do think this reboot isn't without its hope. a lot of what i complained about can be solved with a simply putting this reboot in a different time period. i'd love to see what the an x files-like government sector would like in the '60s, '70s, or '80s. there's a lot to be said about the government in those time periods. it was all rife with reasonable conspiracy and i think they could very well do with making diverse storylines and all of that. i want this to succeed more than anyone. i'm just scared about it lol

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Bullet Comments Part 1: Red Room Scene

In light of the discourse yesterday I wanted to spread a bit of happiness and fun so I finally got around doing this! (Read this post for preface)

These are from the Red Room Scene, and there are two videos of the movie on bilibili so I took the fun bullet comments from both of them

A couple of photos to demonstrate how the screen looks like, but I'm not gonna circle them individual like last time because they overlap and scroll by and it's took much effort to capture a clear screenshot individually

Arranged in chronological order! All idiomatic translations are done by me :D

800 poses a second

The room where it happens (Hamilton the musical reference)

History has its eyes on you (Hamilton the musical reference)

Hamilton's watching you at the back

I'm turning into a rubber chicken!!!! (those screeching rubber toys)

Welcome to a new episode of FSOTUS: Taobao model version (Taobao, the most popular online shopping platform in China, Taobao models are known for switching poses very quickly for the most amount of photos to choose from, e.x. 100 different poses under a minute)

Attention/ At Ease hahahahahaha

He's (Alex switching poses) kinda acting like Ross from Friends right now

A peacock in full bloom

Happy Berner Sennenhund and Noble golden kitty

I think this room is full of presidential portraits...

Hamilton: Seriously?

Hamilton: You got me helpless

Oh my God the little prince is so pretty here

Why can't I stop laughing

Awww the prince is shy that's so cute

I wanna see the prince without hair gel! I think he would even better like that

I’m screeching like a chicken

warning warning waRNING WARNING WARNING

The fuck it's this explosive?

*a whole lot of feral screaming

Is it illegal to lock them in the room in the states

Help, my cheekbone can't come down

Wow his hands are...really grabbing his hair there

Puppy really likes biting on the little prince's lips

Oh my God I can't stop fidgeting

"Shut up and kiss me"

"Little prince, do you like my kiss"

I realized that the little prince really likes grabbing the first son's hair

Puppy (Alex)'s big hands and the little prince's smol hands

These sounds, I freaking can't—

Lock the fucking door~~

Oh hohohohohoho I'm laughing so hard I'm running out of oxygen

Watching this for the one hundred millionth time (one hundred millionth 億 and one 一 are both pronounced yi but with different tones, it's a pun)

Amy: THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU SAID YOU WERE GONNA DO

Why didn't anybody warn me that she was gonna open the door?

Of course, when in moments of awkwardness, everyone will pretend they're busy

Alex: Wow this flower is really flowery

Henry: Wow these books are very bookish/ this bookshelf Is such a bookshelf

I'm going insane hahahahaha the way you two try to pretend nothing happened is ridiculous

Lemme know which one's your favourite and which scene you guys want me to do next!

Slightly shamelessly tagging a couple of folks who showed interest in my last post on bullet comments, hope yall don't mind:

@tal-vez-o-quizas @lfg1986-2 @fivequartersoftheorange @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @estr19 @nocoastposts @kordeliafawkes @scillian @xthelastknownsurvivorx @fastenyourseatbelts @bbreaddog @myironcollectorflower

[cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga]

I already sent you an ask on this and then FORGOR but any recommendations on where to start with majikoi? Is there a "best" version etc? I am stupid and unsure what's just a release vs different version etc

WELL NOW THIS IS A DAMN GOOD QUESTION AS MAJIKOI IS A LONG SERIES!!!

But unlike some vn franchises (Fate) there is a clear starting point and the quality doesn't drop like a fucking rock! But the naming conventions they ascribe to with Majikoi are somewhat annoying cause yeah their titles dont really scream "THIS IS A SEQUEL WITH ALMOST TRIPLE THE CONTENT" not to mention how "Majikoi" is not actually the name of any of the visual novels but a shortened title given by fans as the actual name is annoyingly long to say

So the order to play is simple:

Maji de Watashi ni Koi Shinasai! <-(Commonly refereed to by fans as Majikoi or Majikoi O)

Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! S <-(Commonly refereed to by fans as Majikoi S)

Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A-1

Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A-2

Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A-3

Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A-4

Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A-5

NOW while Majikoi O and Majikoi S are very much Sequels to each other there is not a true route in O that S's plot hinges off of, S actually ends up giving six short after story routes just going into more details about the circumstances and events (but mostly more CG's and HCG's of the main 5 girls from O). But S's new content does hinge on you having played O before as it expects you to already know the characters of the story so it spends little time introducing them in favor of spending its focus on the characters added in S. S is also INSANELY longer than O like I havent actually verified but going by my gut I would say its double or triple the length

On the subject of Majikoi A-1 through A-5 those five vn's are SIGNIFICANTLY shorter than O or S being only three routes each (I think one of them might even only have two routes) now these are full routes and the writing is on par with even in some surpassing a lot of the original two's route writing there. Good thing is Minato soft were gracious enough to release Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A Set which is just all five A games packaged together!

Quickly I will also touch on Kimi ga Aruji de Shitsuji ga Ore de which shares characters and is set in the same universe and timeline as the Majikoi games but as it is quite old an no fan or offical translation exists I wouldnt go seeking it out. Mostly is just neat trivia as some characters fro Kimi do get a cameo in Majikoi S and the A's

As for obtaining these visual novels so far only Majikoi O has gotten a full and official English translation and release with a downloadable version being purchasable on Steam and Jast (apparently jast is a publisher never heard of them befor this)

For the rest of the series I personally Imported the Japanese copies cause im an absolute crazy person who likes this visual novel series way way too much, I believe they are purchasable outside of Japan on Minato Softs store (Of course there is also ☠️ if you so choose that option) you can get the Unofficial translations which are all but indistinguishable from an official release TL over from Majitranslations

[valistheanshield]

League of Legends Verse

The House Rosfield was a minor house along the eastern edge of Ionia, though its lineage was a long one. No great stories or legends, but an old blood that ran long. The Rosfield lands were quiet, tranquil places, with the occasional monster that needed attention being the only issues that arose. That is, until the Noxian forces landed on their shores, and quickly overran the House and its warriors. The slaughter was quick, and despite the resistance that was put up, it ultimately ended in failure.

The causalities were high, Clive's father and brother cut down amidst the fighting, his mother gone to gods knew where. Clive himself brought low, but not ended, was detained by Noxian soldiers, and sent off to slave away for whatever ends the Noxian's had in mind. With his magical abilities, Clive often fought as a Gladiator for entertainment, earning scars and jeers aplenty as he struggled for his life, nursing that growing hatred for those who kept him in chains.

It wasn't until five years later that Swain took control of Noxus, instituting the Trifarix of Noxus instead of whatever the Grand General Darkwill had been doing during his tenure. Clive hadn't been afforded the luxury of learning the nation he was forced to labor for, and when the upheaval of change finally hit, he took his chance, and escaped. Stealing aboard a boat, he was caught mid-voyage and given a chance to explain himself rather than just be tossed into the sea. It was beyond obvious he was a runaway slave, and perhaps the Captain thought it might be more profitable to return him to Noxus rather than see him dead.

Perhaps Clive's story moved the Captain, or perhaps he simply wasn't a fan of the slave trade that Noxus had indulged in, and Swain had kneecapped to some extent. But either way, Clive was given passage to Ionia in exchange for working while the voyage was underway. Cleaning, cooking, fighting should it come to it. Whatever was needed of Clive, he gladly did. And never had he felt such relief as when his feet touched the shores of his homeland.

He didn't know what he would find venturing back to his home, but he knew he needed to go. The burnt out ruins almost entirely overgrown were not a surprise to him, in fact it was almost a balm to see that the land had healed from the invasion that had scarred it so. The surprise was when a Direwolf leaped from the ruin and collided with him, showering him with affection. It took a moment before Clive realized that this was his faithful hound, Torgal! He had survived the invasion, and had continued to protect the shell of the home they had shared, as if knowing Clive would one day return.

The shell of a home had some few untouched places, somehow ignored by looters and overgrowth, leading Clive to find armor and a blade that had belonged to his father. Along with a minor pittance of coin, he was able to say he was no longer entirely destitute. With Torgal at his side, and blade in hand, he looked once more over the ruins of his family home, before turning back to head to the nearest port, intending to make his way to the mainland. What he intended to do, he wasn't quite sure. But Noxus would pay for what it had done!

ooc remarks under the cut;

So, this is just a very very rough layout of Clive's League of Legends verse. I'm sure there's probably a few things wrong here or there, but it's just meant to be a foothold in the realm of Runeterra so I can facilitate roleplays in the verse. If anyone wants to offer corrections/suggestions, I'm not opposed to hearing them!

I was trying to make it sort of mirror the XVI verse to an extent, so not much would be terribly different across the two, but I'm not sure how well that translated. It's not entirely fleshed out either, like with the names of Clive's captors not being mentioned, so I'm definitely open to changing it should roleplays provide a better idea of how the world would work with Clive in it! But for now, this is what I've got.