#layered realms chapter six | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberrypinky · 18 days ago

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fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - part four [obsidian kingdom] 18+

Enver carried something far more insidious – a ravenous hunger for her submission, carrying a desire to strip away each and every layer of resistance until she stood before him bare in body and spirit. He craved her submission like a man starved. Perhaps if she willingly gave him that, he would feel satisfied.

A/N: Oh, Lord. Here we go. So this chapter right here is a milestone for a couple of reasons, really. For one, we have finally reached the first smut chapter! I technically avoid writing smut at all costs, so if you want to comment, please be kind. I'm sensitive, lol. With that said, please read the content warnings below and proceed at your own discretion. This chapter features incredibly dubiously consensual sexual acts, as well as dark themes surrounding the Church of Bane, such as religious extremism and human sacrifice. The Banite practices and rituals highlighted in this chapter are based on canon information - I tweak them to fit the narrative. According to the Forgotten Realms Wiki, "Rituals of Bane were to be performed whenever ordered by senior clergy members and held no correlation to any seasonal shifts, marks on the calendar or specific holy days [...] Services included rhythmic chanting, the rolling beating of drums and the sacrifice of an intelligent creature's life.". While not written about in detail, there are mentions of human sacrifice in this chapter. If you are uncomfortable with the warnings provided, please do yourself a favour and don't proceed.

As always, this story is also available on Archive of Our Own.

Word Count: 11.3k - no beta because that would give me too much time to think about this monstrosity ! CW: age gap, forced marriage, proselytisation, religious fanaticism/religious extremism, borderline fascism, mild blood, mentions of human sacrifice, alcohol consumption, extremely dubious consent (seriously, it's borderline non con), coercion, P in V sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, virginity Kink, power imbalance, mild breeding kink

The wedding flowed into the reception party smoothly — proof of Selise's flawless planning.

The atmosphere was electric, a tangible buzz in the air which only heightened as the Patriars continued to mingle, more inebriated with each glass of Plum Prosecco they were downing. The decorations appeared to glitter in the light of the sparkling chandeliers above, and the flower arrangements only added to the splendour of High Hall that evening. The air was fragrant with sciolism and revelry as the nobles made merry and celebrated with an impending war on the horizon. It was the very essence of Baldur's Gate – momentary rebellion against almost certain doom, and for once, Enver found himself feeling just as jubilant. His arm was wrapped around his wife's waist, the warmth of her skin seeping through to his hand, a goblet of fine wine in his hand as he laughed at a raucous story Lord Shattershield was telling him. He was entirely and utterly content.

All his claiming of superiority and imputing the dregs of society he once belonged to with an inferiority that could have been his had ceased to exist as he stood in that ballroom, Archduke of Baldur's Gate and a wife at his side. Elodie had scarcely looked at him all night, her face frozen with a perfectly manicured smile and an impeccable veneer of politeness whenever someone congratulated them, though Enver could see it slipping in moments where she thought none would see. A gentle quiver of her lip, a solemn tear escaping from her eye – it was a foolish display of weakness. He would reprimand her for it, and Bane tutted impatiently in his mind for allowing the impudence, but Enver supposed the privacy of their bedroom would serve as a more suitable location, specifically since their actual wedding in the eyes of his Lord would still need to take place priorly, and he'd much rather have her cooperating.

The wife of Bane's Chosen wouldn't show defiance - not in the eyes of the congregation and their Lord.

She would kneel and submit - to Bane, to Enver, their protection, their will.

Enver knew in spite of her defiance, she was astute and would come to understand he acted in her best interest and he was not unnecessarily cruel but, in fact, benevolent. Enver was not Nubaldin, who had delighted in being heuristic about his newest methods of abuse. Raphael had bid his time until Nubaldin had at least beat him to sufficient submission, though he was no less vituperative when he finally did acknowledge him. And though the cambion had preferred to use his chthonian tongue, at times, he was incensed enough to take a swing himself. Enver was unlike either of those two – he did not love Elodie, and he never would, but he had no desire to hurt her or violate her the way he had been.

"We should take our leave soon," he bent down, whispering in her ear, before returning his attention to Lord Shattershield and the wine goblet in his hand. He felt her tensing up beneath his hand, but he paid her little mind as his gaze swept over the crowds one final time.

The Liardon family, it seems, had invited what seemed like every proud patriar and affluent merchant of the Gate, the crowd an amalgamation of bohemian intellectuals, eclectic artisans, tenacious militants and gaudy devisees. He could see his own parents gabbing with Counsellor Florrick, Selise Liardon scarcely hanging on in her poor health, yet the woman smiled brightly at Lady Jannath and her substitute husband – an artist Enver had never heard of before. Her companions stood off to the side, their eyes betraying the fury they felt, and yet they stood quietly as they chatted amongst themselves before finally, Enver espied Duke Liardon, whose eyes were hardened, the man a light shade of pink as he drowned his sorrows in a goblet of Elverquisst and half-heartedly listened to Duke Porytr's monologue. Enver's victorious smirk only widened, the defeat in the Duke's eyes only adding to his ecstasy as he tightened his grip on Elodie in a mocking display, dismissing her squeak of protest as he relished in his victory.

He had won – well and truly won, and there were no two ways about it. Elodie Liardon – Gortash, he corrected himself – was eternally his. They would build the kingdom he had been promised, ascending to the rightful station of Bane's most worthy – his most faithful. In mere moments, she would submit herself to Bane with utterances and body, and Enver shivered in delight as he thought of her kneeling at his feet before they would lose each other in ecstasy. He was certain Bane would reward them well, for each malevolent punishment his Dark Lord bestowed benevolent largesse if he was particularly pleased with his followers.

As they finally took their leave, his exquisite bride flung herself into the arms of her companions, the rambunctious bunch coddling her in the face of all their guests. It was an embarrassing sight, though Enver supposed most of their guests were far too drunk to fully notice the strange display of camaraderie. Her parents eyed the bunch warily before Selise gently pulled Eloise aside as Enver stood and waited while he allowed the mother and daughter to share a final moment of attachment. He impatiently tapped his foot; the longer they tarried, the more crabby he got. Who could blame him though? After all, he had waited five years for her. When the women eventually separated, Elodie tearfully hugged her companions one final time before Enver pulled her towards her with a resolved tug of her arm, his patience wavering with each second they wasted with foolish displays of frivolity.

"You'll see them again in just a few days," he grumbled before the two of them were led outside to his carriage, accompanied by a pair of Steel Watchers, which would swiftly bring them to his estate.

He stepped inside first, holding out his hand for Elodie to take, but she only stared at him with her burning gaze, hauling herself in with great effort before she sat across from him. He tutted disapprovingly, shutting the carriage door as he clicked his tongue. The carriage began moving, the soft shaking accompanying the silence between the newly married couple. Enver eyed Elodie intently, admiring her shimmering gown and glowing skin through the moonlight that filtered through the carriage. She paid him no mind, staring blankly outside as the cobbled streets of the Upper City passed them by. It was tiresome, Enver decided.

"You do realise you can't avoid speaking to me forever."

"Fuck you, Gortash," she replied with a hiss, not meeting his eyes.

Enver clenched his jaw, irritated. "Is that all you'll say to me for the rest of time?"

"It would be more than you deserve," she spat out, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"More than I deserve?" He chuckled, the sound threatening to even his own ears. "My sweet little wife, I deserve everything because I worked tirelessly for it."

She finally whipped her head around, furiously wild green meeting his eerie brown. He could glimpse her fingertips crackling with wisps of magic, though she seemed to scarcely hold it in. "Worked for it?" she repeated. "You are condemning this world to a fate worse than death, and yet you decide to waste your time by forcing my hand and for what? You did not work for anything, Gortash. What little you have, you got because you sucked up to your sick god."

He snapped before he could truly control it, his hand whacking out and grabbing her face between his gauntleted hand, the golden metal digging into Elodie's cheeks as she glared at him intently. Abounding fury burned through his veins, eating at his soul as scaldingly hot as the fires of the Hells had been. Perhaps they had left a greater mark on him after all, for all of it came easy to him - he was born of hatred, forged and moulded in it.

"I am the Chosen of Bane," he pressed out. "You have no idea how hard I've had to work to get to my station."

"Get the fuck off me, Gortash," she only hissed in response. "Or I'll make you regret it."

He laughed in response, the sound dark and threatening as it echoed in the carriage, but he let her go. Perhaps a small part of him was frightened of her after all, for she was small but mighty beyond what he had expected or anticipated. He would not risk injury when success was so certain. She would be unable to turn her magic against him the second they were bound in the eyes of his Lord, forever allied. Forever his. His Lord's dread tingled in him, delightfully spreading to each part, and Enver fought to rein it in. Each second he had to wait for the grand finale of his destiny was torture, the anticipation palpable in the air. He could espy the spires of his estate coming into view, the lights brightly illuminating the path up the cobbled drive to his home as they always had. And yet, it felt different and paradoxically the same as the carriage entered the Gates and the horses trotted up to his home. The air felt different, laden with eldritch enmity and anticipatory tension as the newlyweds disembarked the carriage and stood outside their matrimonial home. Enver observed Elodie as she stood in front of the door, taking in the walls in the dim lighting of the lanterns, bare of any agrestal botany like she was used to from her childhood home.

She kept silent, though she turned up her nose in slight distaste, shivering as the cool winds of the night kissed her skin. Enver gently pushed her towards the entryway, the doors opening to reveal the grand foyer to Elodie's eyes for the first time. He watched as she glanced around, the wrought iron chandelier and flickering candles casting intricate shadows from the high ceiling they hung upon. Her blush gown was a strange contrast against the polished black marble floors, veins of green reflecting in the dim glow, the cool air carrying the faint scent of incense and old stone. Not a single soul had greeted them, the sweeping staircases with bannisters of ebony and emerald-carpeted steps void of Enver's usual staff. He supposed they had all gathered in the chapel below, awaiting them for the crescendo of a five-year pursuit and thus the single company they had was each other, and the statues of Bane and his gauntleted hand standing in alcoves, the towering stained-glass window on the far wall depicting a vivid scene of his Lord's glorious return; the vibrant greens fractured into the air.

Elodie's eyes did not betray any of what she might have been feeling, no matter how intently Enver regarded her. She remained the picture of perfect stoicism, breathing calmly and evenly, simply observing. Enver placed his hand on her lower back, gently yet assertively guiding her towards the staircase leading them below the manor, deciding she would have more than enough time to observe their home come morning. In spite of the chilly atmosphere, Elodie radiated warmth and a certain kind of spiritedness which penetrated even the depths of Enver's rancours, and he found himself unintentionally pressing himself closer.

Elodie raised her eyebrow, finally looking at him with more wariness than hatred. "Planning to keep me in the dungeons, are you?"

"No," Enver chuckled earnestly, nearly giddy with excitement as they descended. "You're my bride, not a prisoner."

She snorted in response. "There's a difference?"

Enver laughed, the sound booming along the labyrinth of shadowy corridors, oil lamps with emerald-glass shades casting a soft, haunting glow as they walked towards the heavy door at the end of the corridor while the faint sound of rhythmic chanting echoed. Elodie suddenly stopped in her tracks, wide eyes looking over into Envers with both fright and a million questions reflected in them.

"Gortash, what is -"

"Shhh," he shushed her gently. "Come. They're expecting us."

"Expecting us? What are you -"

Enver did not let her finish, the question dying on her tongue as he pushed her forward, knocking once and entering as members of the clergy opened the heavy doors for them. He could feel her freezing up in his hold, though he scarcely noticed in his elation. The private chapel opened into a vast space in front of them, and at once, Enver was embraced by a particular serenity – at the seat of his power, his rightful place.

Vaulted ceilings loomed overhead, shadowy arches disappearing into the dim light of flickering emerald candles as the rhythmic beating of drums and the low chants of the clergy professing their unwavering fealty to Bane reverberated off the walls. The air was heavy with anticipation, intertwining with the echoes of pledged devotion and sacred dread. Enver shivered in delight, his blood rushing in anticipatory pleasure as they approached the altar and High Imperceptor. He held his head high, the very picture of his station of the edict of Bane, as they passed through the circular pews, meticulously crafted from ebony. Devotees had filled the pews to the very last seat, their heads bowed and faces obscured by black hoods in rightful terror of their Lord and him. His bride was shivering in his arms, only taking the smallest and stumbling steps towards the altar hewn from black marble and veined with blood-red streaks as though it pulsed with a life of its own. The Hand of Bane towered above, casting a shadow over the congregation in a silent yet commanding gesture of domination, their Lord ever present and ever vigilant.

The chanting ceased as they finally reached the altar, merely the low vibrations of drums accompanying them as they stood in the glow of the Hand of Bane, awaiting the commencement of their ceremony. Elodie was shivering, her entire body trembling in Enver's arms, and he smirked wryly at her exemplary piety – She was submitting to Bane, devoting fear and subservience before she had become a Banite and a sense of pride surged through Enver, his skin prickling and a coiling warmth deep in his stomach threatened to tighten his bespoke trousers as he relished in having been correct about her all those years ago in the ballroom of the Ducal Palace.

The High Imperceptor stood tall in front of them, his hands raised in proclamation. "Hail to thee, our Lord Bane, as thy dread shines upon us."

"Hail Bane!" the congregation echoed.

"Hail to thee, our Lord Bane, as thy might emboldens us."

"Hail Bane!" They echoed once more, a pleasurable shiver running down Enver's spine.

"Hail to thee, our Lord Bane, as we cleanse the earth of the feeble," The High Imperceptor continued, his voice even beneath his mask of gold.

"Hail Bane!" They chanted again, Elodie suddenly and dutifully pressing herself closer to Enver.

"In saecula saeculorum! Hail Bane!"

At last, his devotees echoed "Hail Bane" before the chapel quieted, the sound of the drums ceasing and nothing but silence and reverence echoing within the walls. Asudden, the Hand of Bane glowed, an eerie silence choking the space before emerald strands wrapped themselves around the Hand and the eerie dissipated. Their Lord was watching, present in his unholy spirit – the greatest honour bestowed upon a Devout's marriage. Enver's smirk spread wide, abundant joy cursing through his veins as he relished in his Lord's blessings, his grip tightening around Elodie's shivering body. He stole a single glance; her face now pallid, and eyes wide in reverent fear.

"Good girl," he hushed before the Imperceptor resumed, hands still raised above.

"Faithful!" The voice echoed among the chapel. "Thee has't cometh to beareth witness to a most unholy union. Our Lord hath commanded his Chosen to wed. Glory be his shall. Glory be Bane as his Chosen spreads his tyranny."

"In his name," the congregation echoed lugubriously.

"A new follower shalt be born tonight. Our Chosen's bride," the Imperceptor boomingly proclaimed, "shalt becometh a vessel in his schemes. Their union shall carrieth the shall of our Lord in this existence and the next, a testament to our Lord's force."

"Hail Bane!"

The Imperceptor turned towards the altar; an intricate cloak of pristine stygian hue, embellished and adorned with pristine needlework of Banite symbolism – patterns of sharp edges and intertwining lines that seemed to writhe with latent power – was placed upon it, with a smaller replica right next to it. Enver had lost count of the times he had donned the cloak, the ceremonial garb indispensable for any gathering or festivities, its weight a familiar mantle of authority and tradition, and he could hardly await placing the replica upon Elodie's shoulders. It would mark her forever, binding her as a companion in faith and his partner in legacy – a shared symbol of devotion to the Black Hand and the future they would forge together. The Imperceptor placed the cloak upon Enver's shoulders, fastening its golden Gordian knot before bowing deeply with utterances of devoted allegiance.

"A heretic she entered," the Imperceptor proceeded, "but as devout shalt be reborn."

"Enver, what is – "

He interrupted her before she could speak. "My beautiful bride," he said calmly. "Tonight, you will be reborn and forged anew."

His hands reached behind her, fingers brushing against her delicate updo as she only stared at him with wide eyes, pupils blown in fear as he gently pulled the Lathanderian veil from her hair. Her breath hitched as Enver lifted the veil from her head, the silk slipping coolly between his warm fingers and pieces of her hair came loose and brushed against his callouses. The embroidered symbols of Lathander glittered in the dim lighting of the chapel, a final radiant defiance against the darkness of his Lord – a battle the Morninglord was destined to lose in the stronghold of Bane. The Imperceptor stepped up again, reverberating and murmured chants of the congregation swelling once more as he extended his arms, holding aloft a golden bowl etched with runes that seemed to pulse with a sinister rhythm. Enver's lips curled in satisfaction, a chilling thrill going up his spine as the air thickened with palpable energy of his Lord as flames within the bowl surged to life in an unnatural green fire, licking hungrily at the edges of their confinement.

"Beareth witness, o Bane, as we banish heresy from thy Church," the Imperceptor chanted out. "Grant us thy dread, inspireth us with thy wrath, as we welcometh this mistress into thy gloom."

"Hear me, my Lord," the flames flickered as if grasping for the veil as Enver lifted it towards the bowl. "For I bring this woman before you. Guide us, o Bane, as I bring her into your Church and cleanse her of whichever came before."

The flames erupted in a crescendo of kaleidoscopic greens; the veil dropped into them and swallowed like a snake would devour its prey until it melted, and the mere ghost of its existence lingered in the acrid smoke. Jubilant cheers of "Hail Bane" filled the air once more, the Imperceptor raising the bowl with an exultant cry as a shiver of ecstasy pulsed through Enver and tendrils of green wrapped around his gauntleted arm. Bane's raw and primal energy surged from the altar and flooded his veins, choking and consuming him as his Lord's favour pressed against every cell of his being. An air of righteousness and immeasurable pride surrounded Enver as his devoted followers aided him in an act of consecration.

The bowl that had carried the remnants of her life before him was reverently placed upon the altar, continuing to consume the little light Lathander had left before the Imperceptor handed Enver the replica of his cloak. At last, he would warp Elodie in Bane's embrace - just as he had dreamed. Unexpectedly, however, the Impereceptor stopped, the cloak remaining in his hands, and Enver felt, rather than saw, an expecting glance upon him, and while the Church continued to chant with vigorous fervour, silence had invited itself at the altar.

"My Lord," the Imperceptor spoke in a hushed tone. "You must rid your bride of all that which ties her to the life she had before."

A choked sob escaped Elodie before Enver had grasped what the Imperceptor had asked of him, the request so utterly absurd to even him. "Are you asking me to undress my wife?" Enver spat out, anger thrumming through his veins.

The Imperceptor only nodded. "It would be most improper if –"

"Ah ah ah," Enver interrupted him, a menacing lilt to his voice. "If you value your post, I suggest you think about your next words very carefully."

The Imperceptor faltered, his lips likely pressing into a thin line beneath the mask as he weighed Enver’s warning. "I do not wish to question your methods, my Lord", he carefully spoke. "The Black Hand does not tolerate impious behaviour."

"Impious," Enver scoffed lowly.

"I only wish to guide you," the Imperceptor continued, though his voice wavered, and Enver could glean uncertainty beneath the carefully spoken words.

"Then guide, do not dictate," a smirk placed itself on his face. "Unless you wish to join our... guest of honour tonight."

The Imperceptor wavered once more, the weight of Enver's words slicing through the doctrine he so devoutly upheld with ruthless precision, the threat very much genuine. Still, he clutched the cloak, his knuckles pale with the effort. "The symbolism, my Lord," he pressed with final recalcitrance. "Her former life must be stripped away wholly for the Dark Lord to – "

"Enough," Enver cut him off, his voice a low and commanding growl as the sheer insubordination pushed him to the brink of mad wrath. His palm found the back of Elodie, his bride trembling beneath the weight of the moment as she stared at him with wide and tear-brimmed eyes – equally fearful as she was hopeful. "My bride will not be presented unclothed to this congregation. Our Lord demands strength and obedience, which she has given, and she stands before us all – bound to me and shaped by me. That is my offering, and it will suffice."

The Imperceptor, visibly cowed, lowered his gaze and stepped back. "As you will, my Lord," he murmured before handing Enver the cloak, his gaze never leaving as he turned to Elodie, draping the dark and heavy fabric over her shoulders like a shroud. She nearly drowned in the robes, covered in obsidian, as she only looked at him from beneath her thick lashes, searching his eyes, desperate for perhaps a trace of mercy or a crack in his resolve.

"Beautiful," Enver whispered, as he felt a strange sensation well up inside him at the transcendental sight in front of him. He could see the war within her – fury, dread and a desperate desire to cling to the last scraps of her autonomy. And Enver relished it. As a child, he had cried over breaking his favourite toy, yet now he found satisfaction in breaking her, if only because it marked her entirely and utterly as his.

The Imperceptor returned, the golden bowl in his hands as he knelt and placed it between Enver and Elodie before he unsheathed a dagger from beneath his own ceremonial garb. The blade, long and slender, almost gleamed with an otherworldly sheen as ancient runes etched within the surface almost whispered of Bane's promises. Enver's hands grasped the hilt of the sacred blade, the metal pulsing beneath his fingers as if alive with the power of Bane. It was intoxicating, unadulterated hatred and strife thrumming into his veins as the blade bit into his flesh with a sharp, fleeting pain as he watched his blood well and drip into the bowl, carrying his devotion to the Dark Lord.

"Blesseth thy Chosen O Bane, as that gent sheds his blood for thee to devote himself eternally to thy shall," the Imperceptor chanted loudly as the flames erupted into an inferno of viridescent, greedily swallowing

Enver's crimson liquid as it swirled within the fire.

His gaze hung on Enver, expectant of the final step before they would be bound for all eternity. He watched as he reached for Elodie's hand, shaking within Enver's clasp, and she realised with horror what was about to happen.

"My bride," Enver spoke, his words carefully chosen as each syllable dripped with devotion to Bane and an unyielding demand for compliance. "Submit, for in it you shall find strength. Be reborn in my embrace and his, as your cruor fills these flames with life."

He turned her hand, the weight of the blade comforting in his hands. Enver could feel Elodie mustering her strength, helplessly trying to pull herself from his grasp, her lips pressed together in a tight line as her eyes flashed between desperate mutiny and consternation. His hand cut a straight line across hers, a quiet hiss escaping her before her blood dropped into the bowl beneath them as the flames exploded into vibrant sparks beneath them.

Within a second, the Imperceptor had bound their bloody hands together in obsidian silk, the sticky fluid wet between their hands as a coppery smell assaulted Enver's nostrils. The air in the room grew heavier, charged with dark energy as the congregation professed their fealty to Bane over and over again before, at last, the words Enver had longed to hear were spoken.

"Tied forever thee shalt beest, did bind in the visage of this congregation and in the eyes of our Dark Lord as thee shalt ascend beyond the trivialities of this forsaken earth. Blesseth thee, O mine own Lord, as thee enter this sacred matrimony."

The bowl erupted as the congregation cheered in jubilance, their marriage at last sanctified, and Enver felt a rush of uninhibited ecstasy rush through him, intoxicated by the sheer power flowing through him as it grew and grew. It was far grander than the simple thrill of victory, of the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless – like the Gates of the hereafter had opened themselves to him, he breathed in the exultant triumph of his marriage. Beneath the chants and ecstasy, he discerned a gasp, Elodie dropping to her knees with a pained grimace as green vapour wrapped itself around her arm and Bane laid claim to his Chosen's wife – his legacy.

A wide smirk appeared on Enver's face, his words cutting through the cheers like a whip. "Today, before our Lord, I have claimed what is mine. Let all who bear witness know, my bride kneels not in humiliation, but in the order that governs us all. Hear, my fellows, as our purposes are now entwined, and each breath we take is a testament to our union under our Dark Lord. We shall build a legacy as he decreed, and in his name, my hand will lead as hers follows."

Chants of "Hail Bane" and the booming sound of drums accompanied the three at the altar as Enver and the Imperceptor aided a shaking Elodie from her knees, the young woman pallid as though she would be sick, and Enver gently placed a kiss upon the crown of her head. "My good girl," he lowly praised her, the utterances whispered into her silken hair as he pressed her shaking body close to his own, holding her up with practised ease. Their embrace had been an arduous battle, the climax a victory. He had won – well and truly won.

"My Lord," the Imperceptor stepped to them, inclining his head in respect. "My sincerest congratulations to your union. It is my correct understanding you will not stay for the sacrifice?"

Enver shook his head in confirmation. "You are correct, Iago. I shall leave the sacrifice in your capable hands. It is a joyous day for us – but I wish to celebrate in private with my wife." He ignored her tensing beneath his arms, only watching as the Imperceptor stepped back and nodded his approval.

"Of course, my Lord. If I may offer some final words of... guidance," he warily glanced at the shaking figure in Enver's arms.

"You may."

He nodded, his eyes unblinking and unyielding. "There will be trials in the times ahead, even for those blessed by our Lord. Ensure that your will does not falter and take what is yours without hesitation or pity. Shape her as Bane has shaped you, for she is not merely your bride; she is your responsibility. Your duty. And through her, also your legacy. Our Lord's legacy."

Enver's eyes flicked briefly to the golden bowl, the mingling blood within gleaming faintly, before he looked downwards at his little Elodie. “The Dark Lord watches, ever vigilant," the Imperceptor continued with a reflective hum. "For the rite is but the beginning. Whatever is shaping comes after. And it is in that shaping that both your devotion and hers will be tested.”

Enver only nodded sharply before his grip around Elodie tightened, her body almost sagging into his as he led her outside the chapel. He could faintly perceive the pleading screams of clemency of whichever traitor was sacrificed in the name of Bane on his wedding night, but before Enver could hear the cracking of the whip which would make him suffer before, the doors closed again, and they were left in the dark hallways of the cellars beneath his home. The way back up was slow, his pace measured and firm, Elodie's breathing heavy as she shook in his arms, eyes almost dazed. It was a disconcerting sight, Enver used to defiance and nearly expecting hatred and trying to murder him with her bare hands, but all he received was a wife on the brink of unconsciousness. He supposed any first encounter with his Lord would be... profound, but it only served to strengthen them. The faint scent of blood and incense lingered in the air as he tightened his grip around her waist as they reached the base of the stairs, deciding to lift her into his arms, a pitiful groan of dissent escaping her throat before she only sagged and allowed him to carry her.

Enver chuckled fondly, the woman in his arms frail as he ascended the stairs, the moonlight filtering through the stained glass windows and illuminating her face in colours of green and gold. Her face was still pallid, but her breathing evened out as shallow gasps gave way to a more even rhythm, and she looked less sick with each second that trickled by before Enver eventually reached the doors of their chambers, which he opened with ease.

Warmth greeted him, a crackling fire flickering in the furnace illuminating the room, minimal moonlight filtering through the iron-wrought windows. With Elodie still in his arms, Enver stepped to the raised platform holding his canopy bed, slowly placing her on the dark silk and he watched as the cloak he had placed upon her shoulders pooled around her and its edges brushed the polished floors. Her hands were trembling as they clutched the silken fabrics, but she held herself up in spite of her visible exhaustion, her posture wavering but tenacious. A flicker of something familiar sparked in her eyes – faint shadows of the strength he admired buried beneath the fatigue, and thus Enver stepped away towards his desk, a bottle of his favourite wine and two goblets having been placed upon it. His fingers brushed the neck of the bottle as he poured the rich, dark liquid into the goblets, the faint aroma of oak and berries wafting upward. He took one goblet for himself, and he carried over the other to his wife.

"Here," he uttered, holding out the goblet. "Drink."

She shakingly took the goblet, sniffing it with ineffaceable suspicion as colour slowly returned to her cheeks.

"It's Jasmarim Shadow Wine," he only offered, sipping from the goblet as the rich liquid, enjoying its taste.

Elodie looked up at him, silent ire beginning to flicker in her eyes once more. "And how do I know it's not poisonous?"

Enver only blinked, once, twice, before a booming laugh escaped him, the notion ridiculous to even himself. "We have only just married, and you would think me vile enough to poison you on our wedding night?"

"I would think you vile enough to sacrifice me to the rats if your Lord demanded it," she spat out angrily.

"Our Lord," Enver promptly corrected her. "He is our Lord, Elodie. I have watched you become one of Bane's devout mere minutes ago."

"I would rather die," she said sharply, "than ever be devout to you or Bane."

Enver's lips curved into a sharp smile as though her words were nothing but a laughing matter, conscious of nothing except her fallacy. "Facts cannot be kept hidden, Elodie," he told her with a sharp edge. "Your life as you knew it no longer exists. Your inner meddling with a god's order will only serve to make you miserable."

"Insisting on blind obedience is little more than violating each right I am owed," she countered, crossing her arms as she stood up, defiantly throwing the ceremonial garb to the ground as the light of Lathander reflected off her in a million fractals.

Enver's gaze lingered on Elodie, staring down into her defiant eyes with little space between his body and hers, heat radiating off her. Her presence was an addicting warmth, and as he stood over her, Enver felt a tangle of emotions simmering within his chest. Pride, indeed – his bride a prize tethering him to something he had never known he had desired. Yet he carried something far more insidious – a ravenous hunger for her submission, carrying a desire to strip away each and every layer of resistance until she stood before him bare in body and spirit. He craved her submission like a man starved. Perhaps if she willingly gave him that, he would feel satisfied.

"You carry disobedience well," he eventually broke the silence.

He could see Elodie grit her teeth before she spoke again. "It is not disobedience to want a choice. It is the greatest blessing we have got as living beings."

"Choice," Enver hummed mockingly. "Is that why you are standing in my, excuse me, our bedroom? Married to a man you have not chosen but one that was chosen for you? Because you cling to the notion that a choice exists?"

"You will never be able to strip my freedoms entirely. Besides," Elodie countered, "I will not be sleeping in this room."

Enver laughed, another booming sound, though this time it carried little humour. "I'm sure we'll get little sleep tonight, my dear, but unlike many of the other miserable patriars, I have little intention of sleeping separately from my wife."

He watched as her cheeks burned, eyes blazing in fury. Beautiful, Enver only thought, jolts of pleasure rushing through him, her defiance both vexing and titillating. "I don't care what you want," Elodie adduced. "I will not be sleeping in this room."

She tried to walk past him, but he caught her wrists with ease, holding them firmly in his hand as her goblet fell to the ground, staining the hemline of her dress and the carpeted floors. Enver was getting tired of her games, her defiance grating at him as he felt irritation bubble beneath the carefully constructed polite demeanour he prided himself on. She glared at him, trying to pull her wrist from their hold, but his grip only tightened, fingers encircling her wrist like a shackle. Her eyes bore into his, and for a single moment, he felt a flicker of something – compassion, perhaps. But he crushed it immediately, shaking his head as he buried whatever he was feeling beneath the weight of his purpose and his blazing desire.

For a moment, their gazes would not stray from each other before Elodie's lip eventually curled into a sneer. "Let go of me right now, Gortash. Or this time, you will regret it."

He only smiled, cold and cruelly, as if daring her to try, and he watched with unabashed amusement as her body trembled with fury and she tried to channel her untamed sorcery, her hands crackling with something unnaturally electric before she shrieked in pain and fell to her knees. Enver remained above her, an unmistakable thrill of power cursing through him like an unconquerable instinct – just as one's lungs will always draw the next breath so long as there is air available, he would forever adore squashing defiance beneath his feet.

He crouched down, cupping her face in his hands as she let out another whimper, rubbing her wrists.

"What did you do to me?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

Enver chuckled, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "I didn't do anything. Bane simply does not allow any... belligerence between spouses."

"So what?" she asked. "You'll simply be able to do whatever to me?"

"I'm not a monster, Elodie," he tutted. "You may think I am, but I would never do anything to hurt you." His smile deepened cruelly and coldly, his hand steady on her face, defiance still burning in her eyes, even if momentarily stifled.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "You forced me to marry you. You forced me into worshipping Bane. I met the whore you fucked. The one you had pretend to be me when I was scarcely nine and ten. I carry a tadpole because of you. You are despicable, Gortash."

He was momentarily disarmed, hesitating as he considered his next words carefully. He had long forgotten the whore – her existence irrelevant as soon as he had spilt his seed on her stomach. "That hardly makes me a monster," he cleared his throat. "I am offering you purpose. Authority. A place at my side no one could ever hope to claim."

"I could care less about what you offer," she challenged him, rising to her feet as she stared him down. "I wash my hands of it."

"You are insane," Enver shook his head. "Very few would reject the promise of having the world at their feet."

"I would reject the world a thousand times over if I had love and respect."

"So that's what this is about," he chuckled, feeling a cold, bitter amusement rise in him. "Love."

Enver supposed, at any rate, that he should not have been greatly surprised. The young women of the Gate had often regaled him with tales of dreaming of finding love – fantasies he had all too keenly played in his favour before he had utterly ruined them. Perhaps he would have hoped for Elodie not to be as intensely of a fool as the women he had discarded before, but it was not surprising to him that a part of her desired a mere fantasy. Love was futile, a powerful but perilous means of control, and he would never allow himself that, though he doubted it was even possible for him to love another. Love was a fantasy for fools and the unlucky, and Enver was neither. He would give her anything she could ever want if only she asked; trust, companionship, power, sex, the world - but he could not give her love.

Their story was not a tale of a naive bard but the culmination of power – an instrument of tyranny. And at any rate, what difference would it ultimately make? The object of their marriage wasn't love but to strengthen Bane – a fact which could not be altered, even if he had wanted to. The inner workings of a god were impregnable, and Enver was no fool to question Bane, though he remained thankful to have received a wife such as Elodie.

"You disappoint me, Elodie," he continued contemplatively.

"The feeling is mutual," she bitterly told him.

He laughed, low and dark, the sound resonating in the oppressive silence of their chambers. "I would've thought you were above such ludicrous frivolities."

"Frivolties?" She asked indignantly. "You think love is a frivolity?"

"Love is fleeting, fragile, at best," Enver scoffed. "Power, on the other hand, is eternal."

She only looked at him incredulously, something flickering behind her eyes Enver could not quite place. She only shook her head in response, stepping aside in perhaps the hope of escaping him, but Enver stepped before her, blocking her path from certain exit, placing his hands on her hips. If she did not believe power was eternal, perhaps he could at least fool her that he could offer far better than love.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, pushing her hands on his chest as if to get away. "Get off me."

Enver’s smile returned, sharp and predatory, as excitement bubbled inside him. "If you don't believe me, then at the very least, let me show you something more."

"More?" she asked, a wary sort of curiosity in her eyes.

His grip tightened against her hips, pressing into the fabric of her cloak and dress as her defiance simultaneously fueled his amusement and urge to crush it entirely. He moved forward, pressing his lower half against her as he whispered in her ear. "Passion. Hunger. Ecstasy."

In an instant, he could feel her hands pushing against him with renewed vigour, and Enver decided to entertain her rebellion, pulling back just enough for him to glimpse into her eyes and see genuine fear. It was a welcome reprieve following her disobedience and lunacy, he decided.

"What?" he asked, a devious smirk on his lips. "Have you such little faith in my capabilities? Why, Elodie – I am almost offended."

"You are an even greater lunatic than I had given you credit for if you would think I would willingly engage in those... activities with you," her face reddened as she fought against his hold.

His laugh was loud and echoing within the darkened room, his entire figure shaking as he failed to remain composed. "Those activities? My sweet little wife, it is just sex. One would think you were a chaste maiden the way you spoke."

He could feel her tensing up in his arms, her protests wavering as her cheeks burned beautifully red. Oh, he thought for a split second, his smirk faltering at the implications of what she had just revealed to him. He blinked, his amusement stalling for a second before his voice softened in sheer disbelief. "You are," he almost whispered.

"Let me go," she hissed, her face burning even brighter as she struggled against his grip.

"You’ve never..." Enver began, his voice trailing off as his lips curved into a bemused, almost incredulous smile. "You're telling me that you are a virgin?"

"What's it to you?" she snapped, but Enver's grip only tightened. He hadn't expected her to be untouched, leaving her for him to ruin. He might have expected it before she had been abducted by the Nautiloid; any potential suitors had been long chased off by him, and none of his clergy had ever reported seeing another man close. And while most young noblewomen remained pure, at least when they had just debuted into society, most of them had at least entertained one suitor by the time they married, no matter how scandalous if people had found out. But after she had been kidnapped, she had been out of his grasp long enough to perhaps sully herself with one of her companions, and with the way she and that pale elf looked at one another, Enver somehow came to expect it.

"What's it to me?" he asked, his tone edged with laughter, though his surprise had yet to fade. He searched her face for a lie, for some crack in her defiance that might prove otherwise, but found none. "Oh, this is unexpected," he murmured, almost to himself. "Truly unexpected."

Her glare intensified, though her flush deepened, her fury barely masking her discomfort. "If you think that changes anything –"

"Oh, but it does," he interrupted her instantaneously, his voice low and dangerous now, his grip on her tightening just enough to make her still. His mind raced, struggling to reconcile this new information with the woman before him. "Your defiance isn't mere lunacy. You are scared because you are inexperienced."

"I am not scared," she protested. "And I would sooner hand myself over to a chimaera than ever have sex with you."

"I'm sure you would," Enver admitted, pressing his crotch closer to her, already achingly hard as he imagined ruining her. "But that doesn't change reality, does it? You're here, and you're mine."

Before she could voice any protest, Enver pressed his lips against hers, urgently pushing himself against her as he held her warm cheeks between his hands, stumbling forward as she tried to force herself off him, only to land beneath him on their marital bed. He pressed himself into her, their bodies impossibly close as his cock strained against the fabric of his trousers. Enver was certain Elodie could feel his stiffness beneath the layers of her dress, her legs flailing as she fought against him with every fibre of her being. With the urgency of a man starved, his lips claimed hers, unwilling to ever let her go again.

As he parted from her to allow for a moment's respite, her eyes stared into his, wide and fearful. "P-please," she whimpered, her tone pleading. “Please don’t force me into this, Enver.”

It thrilled him far more than it should have, hearing his name spilt from her lips. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear as he whispered, “Just trust me, Elodie. And let go.”

He placed his lips on hers again, Enver’s hands ineffably and recalescent wandering along her curves. "You are mine," he breathed against her lips, his words a proclamation of what he considered his irrevocably, each word imbued with a lifetime of irrepressible desire - allowing no dissent to spill from her lips.

His hands found her chest, smaller than what he usually preferred, but her breast fit into the palm of his hand with ease, and he squeezed as she wiggled beneath him, the friction against his lower half maddening. He couldn’t recall a time he had desired another as intensely as he desired Elodie at that very moment. He parted from her with a gasp, eyes wide and pupils blown as they just stared at each other. She was utterly beautiful in the dim lightening of the room, lips swollen and cheeks reddened, and Enver’s heart constricted with a feeling entirely foreign.

“Please,” she whispered again. “Enver, I am begging you, please don’t do this.”

“Just submit, Elodie,” he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a touch that was almost gentle, almost reverent. “This will be much more pleasant for you if you just let go."

He watched as she bit her lip, a million emotions reflected in her eyes – defiance, terror, fear and a certain curiosity over what he had promised. Enver tilted his head slightly, his predatory smile softening just enough to feign reassurance. Her silence was deafening, and the war waging within her was written plainly across her face. He saw it, felt it, relished it.

“Just submit, Elodie,” he whispered into her ear. “Submit, and you’ll gain something beyond your wildest fantasies.”

“I -” she stuttered, whatever words she was about to say dying on her lips.

“You’re wondering, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing as he traced the curve of her jaw with his thumb. “What it would feel like to simply surrender to me, Elodie."

“I’m wondering,” she began, her voice trembling, “how someone can be so utterly cruel and convince themselves it’s mercy.”

Her words struck harder than he anticipated, something within him twisting cruelly though he pushed it down, not allowing his mask of calm to falter. Instead, he chuckled, the sound dark and rich. “Cruelty is a matter of perspective, my Darling. I have no qualms about being cruel. I have taken what I wanted before. You, however, will enjoy yourself a lot more if you surrender to me."

The remains of her resistance crumbled in front of his eyes, her face twisting into a pained grimace as a solemn tear escaped her eye and her bottom lip quivered. "Just," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Just please don't hurt me."

Enver grinned, embracing her in a heated kiss before he parted from her. "Good girl."

He kissed her again fervently as he could feel the anticipation rise within him as he imagined her coming apart beneath him, gasping and begging until every measure of defiance had crumbled beneath him and nothing but adoration was left. His hands wandered along her curves, the delicate gown nothing but a vexatious stratum between her body and his. The fabric felt soft beneath his fingers, but he yearned to feel more - to finally caress her naked skin against his. Pulling away, he briefly admired her swollen lips and glossy eyes, shimmering beautifully in the dim lighting of their chambers, before he began nipping at her neck, delighting in the shivers and soft gasps that betrayed her.

His stubble scratched against her delicate skin, sure to leave a burn in its wake, as he greedily sucked against her skin, drinking in her sweet aroma of bergamot, freesia and mandarin, the very same perfume she had worn when he had first swept her across the ballroom floor many years ago - intoxicating and addicting. Enver pressed his lower body against her, each subtle shift in friction a tantalising reminder of how much separated them still. His hands wandered along the delicate fabric of her dress, bunching it between his fingers before irritation took hold at the sheer amount of cloth between them. The layers of cloth between them felt like an affront to his desires, a barrier keeping him from claiming his little wife. Enver's fingers bunched the material roughly, pulling it upward as irritation flared within him, fueled by the nonsense of her garments and his own humanity.

He panted as he stood above her, rising to his full height above her and lecherously leering downwards as he watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically. Elodie's hands were white as she gripped the silken sheets beneath her as if they were the single lifeline tethering her to the earth, eyes wide in terror and uncertainty.

"Get up," Enver rasped demandingly, freeing himself of the ceremonial cloak that still hung heavy over his shoulders, allowing it to spill onto the floor, settling right next to hers.

He watched as she raised herself, shivering and stumbling, standing before him. Enver stepped closer, caging her between the bed and himself. "Turn around," he demanded, guiding her to face the bed as he briefly placed his hands on her waist, grounding himself with a deep breath, lest he simply bend her over the bed, flip over her skirts and fuck her like a whore. He would do so, eventually, but at least for tonight, he wanted to watch her face as he broke her – eradicated her chastity, claimed her for all eternity and burned the vision of her ecstasy into his mind.

Enver began pulling at the laces of the corset of her dress, loosening the bodice that clung to his wife like a second skin. They gave way slowly, one by one, the dress loosening on her body, shoulders taut beneath the weight of his touch. He could glean her shakingly, crossing her arms in front of her, pulling the dress close as more of her porcelain skin shimmered in the dim light, a faint sheen of sweat glistening along the delicate curve of her back. He allowed his hands to brush against her bare skin, revelling in the warmth of her flesh against him. As the last of her laces came loose, his hands briefly rested against her waist, placing a ravenous kiss on her should before he turned her around again, hungrily staring into Elodie's eyes.

Her eyes, wide and brimming with unshed tears, glared up at him, a silent challenge, and he only chuckled in response, taking her hands from her chest, allowing the dress to fall down and pool at their feet. A sharp but shuddering intake of breath escaped her as his eyes raked over her bare chest and the pale, unblemished skin, and Enver had to fight the moan that threatened to escape him. What a glorious specimen, he thought. Entirely his to guide and shape into something wholly his own, refining her into something that could cater to the depths of his deepest desires as her husband – carving an indelible mark upon her life.

She wasn't a voluptuous woman by any means, her breasts much smaller than what he preferred, likely fitting in the palms of his hands in their entirety. Her corsage had truly done wonders for her, he quietly realised, for she had appeared quite a bit larger than she actually was. The delicate curve of her waist tapered down to her hips, but Enver pulled his gaze upwards again as he felt her tremble beneath his hands.

"You're trembling," he murmured quietly, gripping her hands tightly.

Elodie closed her eyes, only shaking her head in response.

"No matter then," he whispered, his hands letting go of her wrists before he stepped closer, fingers sliding down her sides as he claimed the territory of her body with ravenous finality. "You are mine."

He claimed her lips once more, claiming her with the intensity of a man determined to leave no part of her untouched by his presence, pushing her backwards as they fell onto their bed again. His leg pressed between hers, pushing them apart as he greedily let his hands move downwards, brushing along her sides and stopping just below her ribs. The softness of her flesh, the rapid beat of her heart beneath his palms – like a siren calling to him in an intoxicating symphony of vulnerability and challenge.

Elodie gasped into the kiss when Enver's hands reached her breasts, firmly encircling them between his hands as his fingers slowly swirled around her hardened peaks, the metal of his gauntlet on his hand cool against her heated skin. His lips moved to the corner of her mouth and down her neck, possessively marking and claiming her as he etched himself into her skin for the world to see. His straining cock pressed into her hip, the delicious friction driving him near insanity.

He could feel her shift beneath his hands – every shiver, every tense and yielding breath – her clumsy movements pressing against him as she stiffened beneath his body. He pushed himself against her with a persistent vigour, letting her feel the full extent of his desire, his arousal a solid and undeniable presence between them. She stiffened further, and he smirked against her skin, his teeth grazing the edge of her jaw.

"E-Enver," she breathed out quietly. "I –"

He nipped against her neck, a warning gesture, as he felt her tensing beneath him. "Shhh," he hushed her. "Just allow yourself to feel, my dear wife."

His hands travelled down, unhurriedly tracing patterns against her body, coming nearer and nearer to the very quick of her. Her breath hitched in uncertainty, a shiver running through her as she looked at him wide-eyed. Her saccharine scent filled his senses, and a twisted delight spread through him as she wholly surrendered to his embrace. It was him, and him alone, who could decide between the descent into everlasting bliss or the deathly thrust of a sword. Mercifully, he chose to let her be consumed by bliss. Enver's hands reached her smallclothes, an embroidered pair of deep crimson, the flowers almost telling a story in itself.

His impatience got the better of him, tearing the fabric away and tossing it aside. Elodie yelped in horror, her legs flailing in a pathetic attempt to close them, but Enver's strong legs impeded her. His eyes didn't stray from hers, his gaze warning her, and she only gulped nervously before her fingers twisted into the sheets. Enver gave her an approving smile, his cock twitching at her blatant show of submission. His hands slid towards her centre, brushing over the delicate plane of her stomach as her breath hitched, and she turned her head sideways, eyes clenching shut as if willing herself to retreat – withdrawing to a place Enver couldn’t reach her. He tutted in annoyance, his fingers now boldly grazing her cunt, sliding up and down with measured pressure.

"Oh," Elodie gasped, eyes opening again, eliciting a chuckle from Enver.

She only whined when his touch became bolder, his middle finger pressing down on her as his thumb searched for her clit. His other hand tightened on her hipbone, the cold metal of his gauntlet digging into her skin with a touch that became less gentle as the seconds passed, his lips slotting over Elodie's with a ferocity he hadn't come to expect himself. The heat of her body permeated through his clothes, his own desire pressing against her hip as he pressed his thumb against her clit, delighting in the soft cries that left her.

She was beginning to surrender – to him, to what he could give her – and it gave him greater pleasure than any man or woman had ever managed to give him. A wicked thrill surged through him as he trailed towards her neck, mercilessly marking her as he relished in her yielding to him. The resistance that had kept her so distant, so unreachable, was crumbling like dry stone underneath his ministrations while her cunt gradually dampened as he masterfully drew circles on her clit. Her body, once rigid, was now responding to him in the way he knew it would, eventually.

"There we go," he breathed into her neck, his thumb pressing down harder, his self-satisfied smirk widening against her neck as she keened beneath him, her body betraying her. "So much fear and resistance. And for what, my dear wife? An escape where there is none."

Elodie breathlessly looked at him, cheeks stained a beautiful pink "F-fuck you."

Enver only chuckled darkly. "I intend to, my sweet Elodie."

He pressed his fingers against her harder before she could protest, savouring her expanding cries of pleasure as the dregs of her resistance crumbled under his ministrations, watching as she fell, trembling, to a precipe as dangerous as it was beautiful. Almost carefully, he slipped a finger inside her waiting heat, dismissing her low hiss before adding a second, working her open as she tumbled towards ecstasy. Enver sucked along her clavicle, briefly and greedily immortalising himself on her skin as his fingers moved – in, out – feeling her body betray her. Wetness seeped out of her, dripping down the knuckles of his fingers, dirtying her thighs and the sheets below. The sounds he drew from her were utterly obscene and undignified – an addicting symphony of submission and ecstasy. Each movement of his finger peeled away her dignity like layers of an onion as he took wicked pleasure in claiming her.

Spluttering cries echoed off the walls of their chamber, the room positively ablaze as she arched up into him, overwhelmed by the edge of delirium coming closer to her. Enver watched as the all-encompassing inferno of ecstasy gripped her from within as it slowly spread to each and every part of her body, consuming her entirely as he carried her through her orgasm with lackadaisical movements, feeling her clench around his fingers erratically. Her moans were the sweetest melody, filling the space between them with their tantalising allure. He watched intently as she fell apart beneath him, pliant and submissive and a slave to herself as all she was permitted to was feel.

Enver impatiently removed himself from her, his slacks entirely astringent now, his gaze sweeping over her twitching and trembling body as he hurriedly undressed himself, her own gaze still unseeing as she lay limp upon the silk sheets. A work of art, a life-giving machine. The rise and fall of her chest only made Enver more aware of the beautiful shape of her breasts, and he groaned in a rejoicing kind of delight when his naked skin lay upon hers. His hands found her sides again, feeling her curves, her skin, like a map, a diagram of futility and he was the shining beacon offering her meaning. The cold metal of his gauntlet seemed to draw her from her stupor, her eyes regaining clarity as she stared at him in horror – squirming as she felt his skin upon hers, perspiration glueing them together as one.

"Enver, I -" Elodie whimpered.

He quickly hushed her, a slight grin on his face. "This might hurt for a moment, but it's over fairly quick."

Whatever words she might have said died on her tongue as Enver lined himself up at her entrance, hard and pulsating with need, easing himself inside. The arm that held him up tensed as he felt his cock enveloped by her tight heat, every inch feeling torturously stimulating. He had done this before, many times, with many women and equally as many men, each encounter a fleeting indulgence that left him sated and yet he couldn't recall feeling obnubilated when he bottomed out entirely. He found a depraved delight in knowing to have claimed her innocence – to have ruined her and mould her into something entirely his own for the rest of their lives. Not quite reverence or love coursing through him – it would never be – but something just as consuming.

Ownership. Dominion. True, unadulterated ecstasy.

Somewhere within the depths of his haze, he could discern Elodie's muted whimpers, the newfangled feeling of him inside her still largely foreign. Her fingernails pressed into his arms, the sole reminder of his corporeality as he groaned lowly, her cunt practically squeezing his cock when he hadn't yet moved. Absentmindedly, his fingers trailed over her trembling form, memorising every shiver, every stuttering breath, every unconscious reaction. He wanted to carve this moment into stone, to etch it into his memory as permanently as the vows they had spoken. Perhaps his sculptor could recreate this moment for him to last for all eternity; perhaps to stand on their graves as a memento of victory – not one won by force or cruelty, but by inevitability. She was his, and there was no turning back.

She was so tight for him, so warm, and so delicate beneath him that it took every atom of his being not to rush himself into climax. His entire world had been reduced to her - Elodie Gortash - his wife, and perhaps for the briefest of moments, he would have hedonistically renounced his god if only to worship at her feet for this feeling to last forever. Enver could feel her chest rising violently against his before he firmly took hold of her hips and angeled himself above, easing himself out before thrusting back inside.

"Fuck," he rasped, listening to Elodie's breathless gasps with each thrust as if they were a siren melody. "Fuck."

Somewhere in between, he heard a breathless "Enver".

"Fuck," he cursed lowly yet again, feeling her cunt tighten around him as he continued to thrust, his movements forceful and erratic, drawing breathless gasps from his beautiful, beautiful bride. Chants of her name – Elodie, Elodie – filled their chambers.

Something inside him gave way, his hands angling her hips differently before he precipitously, violently, thrust his into her, battering away any remaining resistance until she was sapless beneath him. He could feel her cunt tightening around him, the telltale signs of her orgasm approaching. Enver could feel his own following, each inward thrust a measured cadence, further serving to thrust them both into a sea of rising and heaving pleasure, its waves a dark mass in which depths and travelling billows he came closer and closer to plunging into the palpable unknown.

Their room likely stunk of sex and depravity, their shared groans and moans echoing off the walls as skin slapped against skin. Each thrust only served to ground Elodie further into the mattress, her hair a mess around her and Enver would have likened her to a scared piece of art – sweaty, moaning and deeply flushed. She had surrendered to him – body and spirit – and it only served to further his thrusts. Greedily, he placed his lips on hers, swallowing her moans with each thrust of his hips.

With one final, forceful thrust, Enver could feel waves of pleasure crashing through him, her cunt tightening impossibly around his cock, and he spilt himself inside her with a sound that sounded both foreign and feral to his own ears. He buried himself deep, savouring her trembles and low moans and ragged breaths. A deep, primal satisfaction settled in his chest, his release filling her, claiming her as his. Wickedly, he realised that he may have planted his seed inside her, creating a child borne of their sanctified union, and though Enver had never wanted children, the sheer possibility of claiming Elodie that way made his ecstasy all the sweeter.

She was no longer untouched, no longer something separate from him, and she never would be again.

When the aftershocks from their shared ecstasy faded, Enver pulled himself from her, his softening cock coated in their shared fluids and some blood. He stood from the bed, observing Elodie as she lay sapless and utterly spent, her breathing ragged. The scent of sex and sweat lingered heavily in the air as Enver moved himself to a nearby basin to cleanse himself. The cool water against his heated skin did little to temper the satisfaction humming through him, his mind racing.

When he returned to their bed, Elodie had curled in on herself, shivering in the aftermath of their passions. Enver chuckled briefly, pulling a throw over her and settling in next to her on the bed. The soft silk immediately enveloped him, cooling against his heated skin. His arms wrapped around Elodie's lithe body, her skin clinging to his and her scent mingling with something hedonistic. Her back pressed against his front; Enver chuckled as she flinched slightly. His grip was languid, fingers tracing lazy patterns against her bare skin, yet his touch remained possessive even at rest. She was silent, but he could feel the tension still coiled within her.

"Rest now, Elodie," Enver murmured, pressing a possessive kiss against her shoulder blade. "Our Lord is quite pleased with you. You've done well."

Enver did not wait for her to answer before he let sleep consume him.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #enver gortash #gortash #lord enver gortash #lord gortash #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #tavtash #gortav #gortash x tav #dnd #dnd lore #bruv this is such a monstrosity istg #none of this would have happened if Gortash had simply worked through his mummy issues in therapy #alas we ended up here instead #i hope my mum never finds this #otherwise i might end up in therapy

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fyeahdprian · 3 months ago

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[Interview] Interview with Thilda Riou

thilda @thildariou Here’s an English translation of the interview for non-French dreamers ✨hope you'll like it!! 🫶 12:09 PM · Nov 30, 2024

+ another pic of me with Christian for memories 🤭 I actually have this short list of artists I dream to interview - he’s on it, can’t believe I made it 🥺 💗 12:11 PM · Nov 30, 2024

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"MITO", lucid dreams, new album: we interviewed DPR IAN in Paris

A few days after rocking the stage at the Zénith de Paris, DPR IAN spoke to Konbini in an exclusive interview.

Diving into the world of DPR IAN could be compared to Alice's fall into Wonderland. One moment of curiosity, and you find yourself in an extraordinary world, where music and visual arts merge into a whirlwind of fantasy. The Australian artist, also known as Christian Yu, shares his innermost thoughts with us, exploring the depths of his bipolar disorder and DID. A vulnerable artistic approach that shows how mental health can be a true source of creativity.

It wasn't until 2021, however, with the release of his debut EP Moodswings in This Order, that we got to know DPRIAN as a solo artist. Six years after co-founding DPR (Dream Perfect Regime) in Seoul, where he first took on the role of creative director, the singer revealed the first chapter of his journey. From pop to R&B, electro to rock, he started to build his own unique musical identity, shaping a complex story worthy of the big screen.

A few days after his incredible show at the Zenith de Paris, DPR IAN answered our questions. He tells us about the first song he wrote with MITO in mind, shares his lucid dreams and opens up about his next album.

You've had quite an interesting journey in the music industry: heavy metal band drummer, b-boy YouTuber, K-pop idol, video director, editor.. And in 2021, you released your first EP, Moodswings in This Order. What made you decide that it was the right time to tell your own story?

For me, I'll be honest, I don't really like being too much in the spotlight. I felt like I was much better behind [the scenes], like making DPR LIVE was more freeing for me. So when I decided to become an artist, it was a big decision. I wondered if the message I wanted to give as an artist would outweigh the challenges. Because, I have a disorder, but I knew that if I gave it a name, like MITO, it would be giving it more power. So I had to really sit back and think: 'What can this do for DPR?' If it was just for me, I wouldn't have done it to be honest. Because I know there are more challenges for me ahead… Actually, I always disassociate myself when I'm on stage. Even on a show day, I'm a very different person. If I don't disconnect myself from that person.. It's totally different. I don't like being on stage too much, just me personally. [Laughs]

So it's like you take on this character to go on stage.

Yes. When you see DPR IAN performing, you're already in his kind of realm. But as for me Christian, it's such a different outlook. If you'd ask me to dance now, I could never do that. [Laughs] But I always thought that DPR LIVE and DPR IAN are a big package because of the universe that we create. So I thought: 'Okay, this is the right move right now to further extend DPR's image in this industry'. I didn't know any other team that was creating their own multiverses and that were independent. Kind of like what Marvel does with the MCU, I wanted to do that for DPR. I wanted people to not only look forward to what songs their favorite artist are going to come out with, I wanted them to also look forward to what the story's going to be.

I think you really succeeded on doing that! There are so many layers in your art…

Thank you, that means a lot. I think nowadays, people want layers. There are too many things that are too stimulating and too fast, right? Like, you see on TikTok, the attention span is just for a few seconds. I wanted to create something that was everlasting. That's why I don't think we've ever once changed the way we do things.

You've been very open about the fact that your art is based on your bipolar disorder and DID. And that MITO - the first character you introduced - represents your manic lows. Do you remember the first time you created music with MITO in mind?

I made a few songs actually, but one was called 'The Called'. In Christian literature, they have something called 'The Called' where they have people who are specifically chosen, maybe by the angels or the gods, as like the messengers that carry out God's work. I've always thought that MITO was just an extension of me, but that it wasn't a part of me. The funny thing is, MITO is a character that is my first creation, but this alter ego has nothing to do with me. I have no relation, no similarities with him. I don't understand MITO, as much as MITO doesn't understand me. So when I first made that song, it felt like MITO was being the one that was called to come and spread the message through me. I based a lot of the songs on that. Obviously, I couldn't tell people because it sounded too crazy. But there was 'The Called', and another song that we all know from Moodswings in This Order: 'MITO'. That was the sound that felt like him coming to life.

But you didn't release 'The Called'. Why?

I don't know, it just didn't feel like it belonged in that album. The first song on the album, 'MITO', had a lot more layers. It felt like there was something unfolding. But 'The Called' was actually nothing like that. It felt more aggressive, like someone on a mission. It was more like trap [music]. The lyrics were: 'I know what you are, and it tears you apart'. Because it was a reveal of who I kind of thought MITO was. And: "Your wings were never called', so he wasn't called but I was called upon. It was a song that had a lot of emotion in it, it was the first time I was revealing MITO. So it felt like exposure, like he was being called out. But then I though that was just my perspective and my feeling of what I thought of MITO, but it wasn"t MITO himself. It was just through my eyes.

With each of your releases, we discover a bit more about the whole universe you created! There are so many details and hidden clues that it feels like everything has been really well thought-out in advance. Has the whole lore been scripted since the beginning? Or did you leave some room to add up to the story as you go?

The frame has always been there from the beginning. But how the frame develops along the way, there are little differences here and there. For me, because it's based on something personal, the story will only make sense if it's a personal journey that I'm going through. MITO is a character that represents the dark and the very challenging sides I face in life. However, the ending of that should be that I overcome the darkness and go into the light. But if I don't manifest that from the start, then my journey is already ruined. It doesn't matter how you go there, as long as you get there, so that's why we leave this part open. For our universe, we have to go through it for it to happen. It's kind of like you're watching the journey in real time, but obviously conceptualized and more fantasized.

That's what's also beautiful. But at the same time, you have to keep up with the things you already revealed to make sure there aren't things that don't add up.

Yeah, that's the trick. That's why I think it's always key to have a bigger vision goal. You know like when you play a game, you have main quests and side quests. I could make so many side quests, but as long as we have a nice way to go back into the main quest, easy.

That's a good way to see it!

Yeah, if you think of it like an RPG game. (Laughs) It's like: 'Oh my god, I have 500 optional side quests. When am I ever going to get back to the main quest?' But they just keep giving me more side quests. [Laughs)

But you eventually make your way! [Laughs]

Yeah, and then you forget what the main quest was. But it's fun, right? It keeps you occupied, it keeps you interesting. It introduces more characters. That's my philosophy in terms of how I go about the structure of the story.

The second character you introduced to the lore was Mr. Insanity, who is always surrounded by butterflies. Can you tell me a little bit about what butterflies represent to you and Mr. Insanity?

Butterflies have always been a definition of freedom and beauty. They always appear in front of Insanity at most random times, but it's actually not random. They appear when Insanity has a switch of emotions. Because for me, I need something to remind me that I have to ground myself. I had to give a conceptualized idea of that, which was a butterfly for Insanity. When he sees a butterfly, it reminds him of where he came from. He comes from very hard and ugly beginnings. But, you know how caterpillars, they molt into cocoons and they transform? Molting is a very ugly but necessary transformation for you to become yourself. So, butterflies come out to remind him he's still on that molting journey. Actually, the whole butterfly has its own lore. We have a whole music video that we never released yet. It talks about the butterfly people… They are a tribe in The Other Side.

Really? That's so interesting!

This is before Insanity became Insanity. He stumbles upon this village where they worship the butterfly god… It's quite an extensive story, and he finds this elixir that comes from the butterfly worms sap, or goo. These people, if they don't drink it, they'll change into butterflies. So they keep themselves from molting. That's where Insanity also gets one of his powers from that.

In Dear Insanity…, IAN goes to The Other Side through his dreams. Do you have some kind of recurring themes or patterns in your dreams?

Yeah, I feel like I've always had patterns. First of all, I never know the people that I meet in my dreams, but in my dreams it feels like I always know them. I lucid dream maybe five days per week. I actually have been lucid dreaming since I was a kid in elementary school. And I always have the freedom to walk around these landmarks. It's like a huge map: different sections, different lands. But there's always one area that I can never go to. One of the places I go to quite regularly - I always go there with a group, like an expedition: it's a huge, huge cliff. The cliff houses many people, like a village. And there are huge waves that are crashing on this huge gigantic cliff. It's kind of like people are living on the edge. People carve their houses into the rocks. The waves are always coming in regularly every one or two minutes. So, I always end up at this gate. This village is the gateway between a gigantic land, like a volcano. Very far. But there's a bridge that goes to that volcano. Over the volcano, there's a huge ring, like Saturn. And on that ring, there are villages.

On the ring? I love the image.

You can imagine how big, gigantic it is! But the only way you can get there is if you time the coming of the waves. Because when you open the gate, you're now vulnerable to the waves coming. If you get hit, you get taken away. But from this end to the next gate is almost like a 10- minute run, and the wave comes every two minutes… I came very close once. But every single time I almost reach there, I get taken away and I wake up. So that's the only place I could never break into.

Not only do you act in your music videos, but you also direct and edit them yourself! How do you juggle between being an actor and a director when you are on set?

I think I'm still trying to learn, it's a very tough job. There are pros and cons. You know what you want because you're your own director and actor. But the problem is: how good of an actor are you to get to the level of what your director side would want? So sometimes, I'm not as good of an actor as I am a director. This is the problem, I think.

I think you're doing such a great job as an actor, though.

Thank you. An another pro: I get to choose my own cuts. [Laughs]

In the 'So I Danced' music video, we got to see some kind of interaction between MITO and Mr. Insanity.

Yeah, I don't really think people realize how big of a moment that is!

For me, it was such a big moment! How did it feel having them both share the screen for the first time?

I'm so happy that you saw that. It was big! I wondered if it should happen so early, but they just cross paths, they don't know each other. So, it was good that I could put it out there to show that they've interacted now, and it gets more and more developed. Kind of like Batman and Joker. They know of each other now.

Back in June, you released your EP SAINT, with three new songs teasing an album called The Hybrid. Is The Hybrid a new character that will be introduced?

The Hybrid was a character that I thought of when I was going through some crazy patch. I needed a character that represented the God of The Other Side. I realized it might complicate things more, or it might solve a lot of these questions that people have over the lore. For example, where did MITO really descend from? And what God does he talk about? I wanted to bring the idea that IAN is turning into Insanity through the help of something. And maybe, that something tried to influence MITO, but MITO rejected it…

During your Paris show, you revealed the song 'I Am Nobody', and explained the next album will be about IAN. What can you tell me about this new project and how it all fits into the lore?

I was thinking, do I do The Hybrid first or IAN? But I wanted to kind of de-shuffle the timeline a little bit. In terms of the lore storyline, IAN is in the future. But I felt like it was right for me personally to come out with this album. It was time for me to wake up from my dream a little bit, from The Other Side. Because, doing this type of art has its own toll. It's really based on real life, so the more I did this, the more power I was giving to this lore. It'll always be there, but I needed to identify myself, come out, and then go back in. As long as I know IAN is still there.

Kind of like grounding yourself.

That's exactly how I would ground myself. So, I wrote a few songs, the one I played in Paris was just one of them. I'm planning to go out with a full album. You know, it's very ironic because it took three albums and a few singles for IAN to actually come out, but that's real life too.

Over the years, do you feel like making music and creating this universe and characters has helped you understand yourself a bit better?

I think it helped me understand what I shouldn't do too much. There's a very fine line with trying to understand yourself as you are, and not knowing how much you're influencing yourself as you do things. Sometimes, the big gray area with people that have, for example, bipolar, is you should never play too much into their manic side. Because you're giving them almost like a false reality of what they can hold on to. If you keep that narrative up, they might believe it too much. And the person that they are when they're in that state is very different from the person when they're not.

Of course.

So I realized, I make a lot of this when I'm in my manic state… It's so beautiful because it's so raw. But I'm always so attached and connected to this as if it's real, that I sometimes feel like I'm losing myself. I'm finding out more… But I sometimes ask: 'Why want to find out more? Is it safe?" I think trying to be comfortable and accepting of what you have is one thing, but going in a little too deep into identifying everything actually causes more harm. You're now stuck with thinking and knowing about all these things that you never had to think of. Especially if you're a deep thinker. So that's why IAN is that album that is taking me out of the loop for a little bit.

#2024 #drwt #drwt paris #drwt europe #christian yu #dpr #dpr ian #dream perfect regime #the dream reborn tour 2024 #@thildariou #interview #2024 interview #2024 article #article #press #twitter #the called

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saintgoths · 5 months ago

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx

CHAPTER SIX - THE KING.

WORDS - 6,021.

RATING - 18+. [Self-harm, slut-shaming, dry-humping and kissing]

SUMMARY - as Charlotte and Henry leave for the De Quincey mission, the rest along with Nate stay in the institute guarding the place. Unaware that during the absence of their leaders, secrets and lust are revealed.

"I never walk about after dark, It's my point of view, 'Cause someone could break your neck, Coming up behind you, Always coming and you'd never have a clue, I never look behind all the time, I will wait forever, Always looking straight, Thinking, counting all the hours you wait." - Oblivion by Grimes.

feedback would be appreciated! and i would like to say, this story is a will romance story, but i just want you to be aware that serena is a man-eater...

i also cross-post this fic on wattpad and ao3.

previous chapter - chapter five.

“Dear Lady Evaline,

I miss home, I miss you and I miss my family. The people in the London Institute are kind but they still do not fill the hole that was violently taken from me. I want to go back home, to Venus; I want to go to the ruins of where I used to live, and I want to bury my family the Venusian way.

I am honoured that the Great Families of Venus have moved to the Mortal Realm for me, but it’s not the same, London cannot capture the beauty of Venus and the more I stay away from it the more I feel like I am losing myself and my identity.

Mr. Sapphire has brought me a gift, two, a necklace and the very book of Aphrodite, I have not opened it yet, as for I am anxious, I want to discuss it with you Lady Sapphire---”

“Serena?”

Confused, Serena had turned around. It had been Will who stood under her doorframe, he had a unfamiliar look on his face, one that had many layers, a look that seemed to want to understand her, question her and even find her suspicious. The Venrosa woman had wondered if he had knocked, but he hadn’t given her too much time to think as he began to question her.

“What are you?”

Serena frowned as she gripped the head of her chair. “I didn’t allow you in,” she said and with a quick twisted look on his face Will closed the door behind him.

“I don’t care,” Will responded rudely. “What are you? Tessa said you healed her. You can do the same for Jem, can’t you? Get up.”

Stubborn, Serena crossed her arms as she looked him up and down. “Not with that tone I’m not,” she spat as she rudely pulled a face, aware that Will had almost been shaking out of desperation, the Herondale man dropped his shoulders, clasped his hands together as he walked towards her.

“Serena,” he pleaded. “Please, Jem needs you,” he gently cried out and with her lips sealed, Serena eventually got to her feet, she hadn’t looked back at her letter but reminded herself to resume writing it when she returned from Jem’s room.

Without looking at him, Serena had walked past Will as she aimed to step out of her bedroom, quickly, he had followed her and easily caught up beside her. “I’m not doing this for you,” Serena said as she closed her bedroom door. “Take me to his room.”

“Right,” Will muttered as he led Serena on the pathway to Jem’s chambers. The beginning of the walk had been quiet, Serena had barely looked at him whenever they turned every corner and walked up a step, but there had been a curiosity that had bubbled in Will’s stomach, questions he had wanted answers to, almost each second, Will had flared his fingers as he gathered the confidence to ask. “What did Lyonel want with you?”

With a frown, Serena finally looked at him. “It has nothing to do with you.”

Annoyed, Will held back the need to groan. “Lyonel barely comes here.”

“He wanted to give me something,” Serena said as she focused her gaze forward.

Interested, Will cocked the right of his eyebrow. “Like the book that was on your bed?”

Silent, Serena’s nails dug into her palms, her silence leaving Will in the dark who had clenched his jaw as the two of them arrived to Jem’s room, the Herondale boy pushed the door open. Tessa had been with Jem, and by the way Jem had swayed to the side to see who had accompanied Will, a short smile had stretched against his pale face once he had realised it was Serena. Tessa who had appeared apologetic turned to look at Serena. “I had to tell them---”

“I understand,” Serena whispered and relieved, Tessa had taken a step to the side to allow Serena to pass. She would rather not have Serena not trust her, but she had to take the chances of Serena being able to help Jem.

“So, are you a healing warlock?” Jem had questioned as Serena had sat on a stool beside his bed.

“No,” Serena replied. “This is just one of my abilities,” Serena tightly explained as purple chaos flickered around her hands. They had all watched and listened, a soft ooze noise spread from Serena’s hands and through the entire room, the sound new to the rest, couldn’t help but feel that the noise had somewhat had a calming essence to it.

Intrigued, Jem had watched how the colours swirled around her hands, the purple had a few pink dots in it as it danced around her hands and curled around her fingers. “It looks beautiful,” Jem had complimented, the picture of the chaos having him forget about Will and Tessa who had been behind Serena, both of them compelled by the magic. “Is it magic?”

“More like chaos,” Serena shrugged as she gently moved her hand to Jem’s body, she hadn’t said it, but he had looked terrible. There was still beauty within him but he had looked drained, as if the next breath he was about to take was about to be his last. Focused, Serena had pushed her magic into him and the sensation for Jem had felt like wind passing through him.

He gently gasped at the new feeling; his eyes wide for a second fore they relaxed. “It feels good,” Jem whispered as he softly stood up, his short motion had Tess and Will shortly snap to their feet but Jem had gestured that he was okay.

“I don’t know if this will heal your condition, what you have in you…” Serena whispered, eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated on the movement in his body. “Feels different,” Serena said her sentence had caused Jem and Will to share a sharp look.

“He does look better,” Tessa muttered as she quickly glanced at Will who had briefly shared the same excitement as her. “If it wasn’t for me, you never would have been hurt.”

“Hurt,” Jem spoke the word on an exhale of breath, almost with disgust. “I wasn’t hurt.”

“James,” Will’s tone held a warning note.

“She should know, the both of them should know, William. Otherwise, Tessa will think this was all her fault and Serena would probably wonder why her healing powers aren’t fully working on me---my apologies, I do feel better,” he smiled.

“You were ill,” Will said, not taking his eyes of Jem as he spoke. “It’s nobody’s fault,” he paused, Serena had then let go of Jem, clasped her hands and pulled them to her lap.

Jem had foretold the story, how a demon called Yanluo killed his parents, a demon that held a grudge against his mother, and how the Shanghai Institute was slaughtered by Demons, and how Jem was tortured by them in front of his parents, entities that had injected him with poison, the man had then explained the pain it had brought him.

Jem had then spoke about his sickness, had explained how Mortmain likely made money due to trading Opium, a drug people could easily get addicted to. “In Chinese, we call it foreign mud or black smoke,” Jem had explained his city wouldn’t have existed without it, and empathetic, Serena had remained silent, listened to how he despised people who would do anything to get their hands on it, had thought of them to be weak, but once he had said that, there was a silence.

Serena had learned that drug had meant of a slow death, thus the name. The Silent Brothers, who were the weird men Serena had saw a couple of hours ago attempted to heal Jem’s body when he found, they had experimented on him, for weeks until they understood that there was nothing, nothing they could do to heal him.

The only way Jem could survive was to continuously take the drug until he died.

Serena gently sucked in her teeth; eyebrows furrowed as her hazel eyes wobbled. “I’m so sorry,” Serena had whispered and with a gentle smile, Jem had turned to look at the girl.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he consoled and as she fiddled with her fingers, Serena returned his kind smile, if only Jem had realised what he had done telling Serena this, Serena who would now put her entire focus on him, the guilt of not being able to save her family, sharply projected onto him.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Serena had lost count to what number this attempt to paint her family was. The Book of Aphrodite had still remained unopened and the faces of her family had remained unidentifiable. Serena had grimaced, she put the paint-brush down and moved away from her canvas, her footsteps light but the woman had still felt that she had used every muscle in her body to move herself.

She had given her letter to Thomas, Thomas who would send it to the post office, while Serena would wait for Lady Evaline to return to her apartment and read it.

She sighed; Serena leaned against the chair she had sat on. She had missed her room, though she had been grateful that Charlotte had given her a roof over her head, the room she was in missed the touches of her mother. Her mother loved to design not only clothes but homes, it was Serena who had given her mother Selene the visual she’d want for her room and in a matter of days her mother would bring her style into life.

She needed a drink.

To help her with everything, her thoughts, her sadness and her creativity. Thus, she had planned to go to Myrtle and Doves.

In a matter of minutes, Serena had dressed herself, hated the way Mortal Realm clothing had looked on her, but somehow, it was garment people liked.

Once she closed the door behind her, she had walked down the corridor, her senses aware that someone had walked down the same path as her, her orbs then adjusted onto Tessa who had walked the path of her brother’s room, Nate.

“You look pretty,” Tessa smiled as her steps became slower. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk,” Serena muttered as she passed by her.

“A lady shouldn’t be going out this time, especially alone,” Tessa forwardly stated and as kickback, Serena stopped walking.

She turned around with a sharp smile that silently told Tessa she had provoked her. “I’m not an ordinary lady, I’ll be able to protect myself,” Serena stated.

“So, what are you?” Tessa questioned as she looked at her. She had tried to find out about Serena in the library, read books of Supernatural creatures that were similar to what Serena had been, though, the closest she’d ever got to was Serena being a Warlock.

It frustrated Tessa, because Serena said she was no Warlock, and her argument seemed to be strong as Tessa had tried to compare her to other Warlocks, Serena had no mark. Though, the Gray woman had considered if she examined the rest of her body, one would be there.

With a knowing look, Serena turned on her feet. “I’ll see you later,” Serena bid with a sigh, leaving Tessa in the corridors alone to return to her brother.

Within minutes of making her way to the pub, Serena had taken in how empty the streets had been. Still, she had walked, aware that there had been an essence that had slowly revealed itself to her. So, Serena had halted. “Come out,” Serena commanded and within seconds, a woman had crept out of the darkness.

She was a Vampire.

Red-haired woman, pretty green eyes that reminded Serena of a lake, slim figure and was medium-height, the woman was beautiful, with her curly locks that framed her hair, Serena had learned that women of this time normally wore their hair high due to class. Serena had thought that was stupid.

When the woman had spoken, Serena had briefly focused on the beauty spot above the left side of her lip. She had an accent different to what she had normally heard presently. However, Serena quickly understood that the accent was Russian. “Venusian Spirits…” the woman had whispered with thirst. “It is true, your bloods smell so sweet,” she desperately breathed.

Eyebrows furrowed; Serena’s eyes sharpened at the Vampire. “Just as poisonous to Vampires as sweet,” she clarified and taken back, the red-haired Vampire’s hunter face softened as she bowed to Serena.

“My apologies,” the woman said, but Serena wasn’t sure if she had genuinely been apologetic. “Angelika Ovechkin,” she introduced, and when she stood up straight, she focused on Serena, took her in, shadowed every detail of the Venusian’s body, pleased that she had been one of the first Downworlders in the Mortal Realm to have a clearer look. “There’s been whispers about a Venusian Spirit here, should’ve noticed by the repeating symbols.”

Confused, Serena’s face twisted into a curious expression. “Symbols?” She lightly repeated.

Just as confused but for Serena’s lack of knowledge, Angelika took a step forward, her move swift almost as if she floated. “You don’t know?” Angelika asked. “Whenever a Venusian Spirit appears in the Mortal Realm, Aphrodite’s Symbols appear more, like roses growing everywhere, especially places they do not belong, an excessive number of Swans and Peacocks appear more often.”

“Oh,” Serena said in a tone of inquisitiveness, though, quick, Serena had fixed her sight onto Angelika. “What do you want with me?” The dark-haired woman asked, hand under the cloak she had pulled on fore she left the Institute, underneath her cloak had been her right hand that gently flickered her Chaos powers, ready to defend herself if she needed to.

“Ah,” Angelika said once she had remembered what she had wanted Serena for. Quick, she had retrieved a card she had then given to Serena, unsure, the girl had taken the card from her and read it.

It was an invitation to a party tomorrow. “When word gets out that a Venusian Spirit is coming to my party every Downworlder is going to be there,” Angelika smiled, her eyes bright as the idea of Serena agreeing to come sparkled in her eyes.

Though, without giving Serena the time to respond, Angelika had disappeared the moment Serena looked up from the greeting card, leaving her alone in the streets.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Serena had been surprised that the Institute had been so noisy when she returned, the second she stepped through the doors she was surprised by the quick feet that had ran past her, confused, Serena closed the door behind her as she had attempted to take in what the ruckus has been about, and when she focused, the name Nate was thrown around multiple times, and the young lady quickly realised that Nate had gone missing.

Will had been the next person to walk by her, and once he realised that Serena had returned to the Institute, his eyes sharpened. With Nate’s disappearance, Will almost thought Serena had left until Tessa told him she went out for a walk.

“And where have you been?” Will poked. “Of course,” he said before Serena could answer for herself. “Drinking yourself to death.”

With a scoff, Serena looked him up and down. “You’re one to talk,” she snapped as she had then focused on Thomas who had quickly walked towards them.

“They found Nate,” Thomas said and with a thankful smile, Serena beckoned her head at him, both Will and Serena had commenced to follow Thomas to where Nate was. “He was in the drawing room, behind the curtains,” he explained and confused, Serena furrowed her eyebrows as she pondered how did he find himself behind there. “Minute he saw me, he went right off his chump. Started screamin’ and yellin’. Tried to bolt right past me, an’ I nearly had to give him one over the gash to keep him quiet.”

When they arrived to the drawing room, Thomas pushed the door open, there was Nate, with Tessa beside him. “Miss Gray, Master Will and Lady Serena is---”

“Master Will is right here,” said Will, ducking nimbly around Thomas, despite the other boy’s bulk. “Our wanderer found at last,” he said, unaware that Nate’s entire gaze was fixed on Serena, who had been uncomfortable while scratched her elbow and looked away from him. “Thomas tells me you were hiding behind the curtains?”

Offended, Nate finally looked away from Serena. Tessa who had noted the exchange the two of them had nervously bit her lower lip. “Who are you?” Nate said as he looked at Will dully.

Quickly, Tessa introduced both Serena and Will to Nate, though, neither of the boys seemed all that happy to meet the other, and Serena awkwardly brushed off the quick looks Nate would give her. “So, are you a Shadowhunter like the others?” Nate questioned and stiffly, Serena shook her head.

“No, I just have the sight,” Serena responded and in disbelief, Will glanced at her.

“For the moment can the both Nate and I have space?” Tessa questioned and quickly, Serena left the drawing room, without saying a word to Tessa, Will followed Serena.

In the corridor, the both of them walked, Serena ahead of the Herondale boy who she could feel examine every inch of her body. “You reek of alcohol,” Will said and on the defence, Serena turned to look at him, her eyes wide as she thought of what to say to explain herself. “You’re harming yourself.”

Serena’s face immediately twisted. “I cannot be harmed---”

“It appears like you’re trying to,” Will scolded, his usual playful eyes harsh. “I know when someone is trying to self-harm, I’m the self-claimed King of it.”

“It’s just not that,” Serena frowned and confused, Wil tilted his head.

“Then what is it?” Will pushed. His hands now in his pockets as he stared down at her. “You barely tell us anything of yourself, while living under our roof. You lie what you are to Nate---:

Serena had then rudely scoffed; Serena was sure that Will did in-fact not care about her lying to Tessa’s brother. “Nate will be okay not knowing what I am. It’s just you---you want to know everything about me!” Serena snapped heated, aware that Will usually got a rise from seeing people upset, she held her tongue.

“Maybe that’s true,” Will said, his voice no longer harsh and spiked with fire. Serena looked away from him. “I can keep your secret, Serena.”

Dubious, Serena’s nails gently raked against her palms, with the side of her eyes, Serena’s eyes returned to look at Will, Will who usually had a smug look on his face. Who usually had a look that revealed when he was about to make fun of someone, had looked different this time, his expression had been distinctive. Serious but soft as he stared at Serena.

He had always thought her eyes to be very pretty. In truth, they’ve known each other than less than a month, and Will who had believed that it was his eyes that were normally deemed to be the most beautiful others had looked down upon, had believed had been exceeded the magnificence of Serena’s.

“I don’t trust men like you,” Serena truthfully said as she finally looked at him face to face, and when her face finally levelled with his, Serena had immediately saw his usual bright eyes that immediately became duller.

Will hadn’t thought a sentence like that would offend him. People usually said rude things to him, but the more he had stood around Serena, spoke to her. He had been revealed to a side of him that yearned for her acceptance, her validation, thus, Will frowned. “You don’t trust men like me while you busy yourself with men like Davidson?” He questioned as if he had been in disbelief.

“They look down on me for being around you,” Serena said.

Will had frowned even more. “They?” He repeated, his tone of voice had demanded Serena to explain more.

Though, before the Venrosa woman could say anything, quick footsteps interrupted their conversation, Serena sensed it to be Jem, so she had looked to the side, prepared to heal him if he had asked. “Will…” Jem greeted before he had looked at Serena. “Serena,” he smiled. “Charlotte wants to talk to everyone.”

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

For minutes, Serena had sat down through countless of talking, Nate had spoken about his situation with De Quincey and his gambling addiction. Serena sat through Nate’s tale of how De Quincey despises Shadowhunters, not like she cared.

They had spoken about Mortmain, Tessa’s mother and diary pages, and as much as Serena had wanted to be interactive, she couldn’t help but think of what Will had said. How she was intentionally harming herself. Serena had known that she was drinking to numb her pain, but she hadn’t realised, she had drunk so often that if she were a mere mortal she would’ve---

“Well, Charlotte has gone to notify the Enclave,” Tessa said, her voice had snapped Serena out of her day-dreaming.

Serena frowned; how much did she miss?

“That’s all the rest of London’s Shadowhunters---of the location of De Quincey’s hideaway, so they can plan an attack,” said Tessa. “But really Nate, you shouldn’t be worrying about these things. You should be resting.”

“So, it’ll just be us,” Nate’s eyes were closed. “In this big old place. Seems strange.”

“Oh, Will and Jem won’t be going with them,” said Jessamine. “I heard her talking to them in the weapons room when I went to get the blanket.”

Nate’s eyes opened. “They won’t?” He sounded astonished; Serena frowned. “Why not?”

“They’re too young,” said Jessamine. “Shadowhunters are considered adults at eighteen, and for this kind of undertaking----something dangerous that the whole Enclave is participating in---they tend to leave the younger ones at home.”

Serena had looked at Tessa who seemed to be relieved. Bored, Serena looked at her fingernails, Thomas had walked in during their conversation, he had carried a stack of folded clothes that he passed onto Nate who thanked him.

“I’ll ask Agatha to prepare something light, and perhaps a game of cards to keep us occupied after we eat. Sandwiches and tea, I think---Serena join us!” Jessamine suggested and returned back to reality, Serena sat up on her seat and turned to Jessamine, they had all looked at her, Tessa, Nate and Jessamine, as if they were a crowd of curious owls. However, Tessa seemed less likely to join the game. “Won’t that be fun?” She asked while Nate and Thomas exited the room with the clothing.

“Sure,” Serena agreed as she pulled herself closer towards the blonde woman.

“Cards?” Tessa, who had been shocked nearly speechless by Jessamine’s suggestion and Serena’s contribution. “You think we ought to play cards? While Henry and Charlotte are off fighting de Quincey?”

Jessamine tossed her head. “As if our moping around would help them! I’m sure they’d rather we were cheerful and active in their absence rather than idle and morose.”

Tessa frowned. “I really don’t think,” she said, “that suggesting cards to Nate was a kind idea, Jessamine. You know perfectly well he has…trouble…with gambling.”

“We’re not going to gamble,” Jessamine said airily. “Just a friendly game of cards. Really, Tessa, must you be such a wet blanket?”

“Wet blanket?” Tessa repeated out of confusion.

Serena turned to Tessa to explain. “A wet blanket means that you’re not fun.”

Tessa had then glared at Jessamine. “I know you’re only trying to keep Nate happy. But this isn’t the way---”

“And I supposed you’ve mastered the art of winning men’s affection?” Jessamine snapped, Serena raised the both of her eyebrows, she had thought, if they had actually wanted to know how to win men over, they ought to ask her. “You think I haven’t seen you looking at Will with puppy-dog eyes?”

Serena bit her tongue.

“As if he were even---he strips Serena naked with his eyes to even care about you! Oh!” She threw up her hands as Tessa avoided Serena’s look. “Never mind. You make me---"

“This shouldn’t be something we’re arguing about,” Serena frowned in distaste to how Jessamine treated Tessa.

Rudely, Jessamine turned to look at Serena. “And I’ve heard about you!” She rudely pointed, surprised, Serena pointed towards herself. “Don’t even try and get your sticky hands-on Nate and make him impure like you!”

Serena gasped at Jessamine’s sentence, enraged, the woman stood up on her feet and sharply slapped Jessamine. There was a pinching silence as Jessamine held her face. Tessa looked between Serena and Jessamine, silent and surprised on what had just happened, Serena had then gripped her hand before she pulled it back to her side.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she warned Jessamine as she rudely looked at her. Heated, Serena stormed out of the Drawing Room with Tessa behind her.

Tessa was unsure if Serena had wanted anyone to speak to her, so she scrambled towards her own room leaving Serena alone, but the Venrosa woman followed after Tessa. Not only did Serena slap Jessamine for what she had said to Serena, she had also slapped Jessamine for her rudeness towards Tessa.

Tessa had allowed Serena in, the Gray woman had splashed water on her face fore she untangled her hair with a hairbrush. Serena had barely taken in Tessa’s room; it had been plain compared to Serena’s room or even Jessamine’s.

“Are you okay?” Serena asked, hands clasped together she had sat on Tessa’s bed.

“I’m fine,” Tessa muttered, unaware with how much she sounded like she had disregarded Serena’s question, though, Serena did not take it to offence. “A thing inside of me is telling me that Jessamine deserved that slap.”

“She did deserve it. She’s rude to you all the time, it was bound to happen,” Serena explained and by her own surprise, Tessa sourly laughed.

Though, Tessa had wanted to ask Serena what Jessamine had meant. “What did she mean by that?” Tessa curiously questioned; she had wondered how innocent she appeared to the rest of them. “Jessamine calling you sticky hands, what does that mean?”

Awkward, Serena had smiled at Tessa, she had contemplated on how she should explain it to Tessa, and if she did, Serena had wondered if Tessa would not want Nate around her, as she had noted that she was very protective over her brother. “Serena!” She had heard Will call, and confused the darker-haired woman pulled herself to her feet.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Serena promised, and without hearing Tessa speak, Serena left Tessa’s bedroom. There had been a frown on her face the moment she saw Will standing beside Tessa’s door frame. “Step away from the room,” Serena instructed and obedient, he did, which had surprised Serena, however, the smug look on her face made Serena realise that he knew about the slap.

“I never took you for a violent princess,” he said with a playful voice and Serena crossed her arms as she looked at him with disgust.

“Never call me that again,” she commanded and with a chuckle, Will leaned against the wooden walls with his hands stuck into his pockets.

“I wish I saw that,” Will said, his eyes brighter than what she had saw a couple of hours ago.

Serena pulled her face back as Will continued to talk. “I like seeing that fiery side of you, it would’ve riled me up---”

Serena had then slapped his chest. “You are disgusting!” She spat, but Will grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him. He had wanted to do everything to her, and Serena could see it, she had fought back and released herself from Will’s grasp before she scurried back to her room.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

It had been the next night, Serena had sat in front of her vanity mirror, prepared to leave to Angelika’s party. She had taken out one of her pretty dresses and had completed touch-ups on herself, if the party she was invited to wasn’t secret, she’d ask Sophie or Agatha to help her but they couldn’t know.

The only one who did was Thomas, as he was the one who was going to drive her there. At first, Thomas was unsure to go along, but Serena had promised that she’d return to the Institute safe. She had convinced Thomas to not stay at the destination.

When Serena had stepped out of the bedroom, she had walked into Will. He had looked beautiful; Serena had thought and she had caught the way he had looked at her. “Where are you going?” Will questioned but Serena had not responded and focused to walk by him.

Stubborn, Will caught her wrist. “Let go!” Serena frowned.

“Are you going to drink again?” Will questioned and embarrassed, Serena had shrugged him off.

“No,” she frowned and shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Drinking is not the best way to mourn, I out of all people will know that,” Will shared and with a twisted face, Serena rubbed the area of her wrist Will once had in his grasp.

She looked him up and down, annoyed he never seemed to mind his business. “What do you know?” Serena rudely questioned and with a rude look, Will shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I know more than you would expect,” Will argued and with pressed lips, Serena had watched Will aim to hold her again.

She had let him. Allowed him to take her back into her bedroom. “I will be late,” Serena complained and with a gentle smile, Will released his free hand from the dents of his trousers.

“They will be okay with you being late, you’re too beautiful to be mad at,” he kindly shared and surprised, Serena had sat back on her bed.

“Who is this and what have you done with Will?” She investigated and with a laugh, Will had sat beside her. Serena looked at him and gently shuddered, this is the first time they have been close with each other without arguing. “Thomas is waiting for me.”

Will curved his eyes. “It’s quite annoying that Thomas,” Will frowned. “Gets to take you to these secret places and I don’t get to know or even come.”

“Well, I tell Thomas because he’s kind and handsome,” Serena said and taken aback, Will knitted his eyebrows.

He stuttered before he asked her. “Do you like…Thomas?” He questioned as he waited for Serena’s response.

“No,” Serena said as she held back her smirk. She had saw the twinkle of jealousy that danced in his eyes. “I’m just stating the facts.”

Will hummed in response as he gently pulled away from her. “You don’t think I’m kind and handsome?” He innocently questioned and Serena stared at him, aware that he had been playing, though she had still spoke to the truth.

“I do think you’re handsome,” Serena shortly clarified, she had thought he was pretty even. “But kind?” She rhetorically questioned and cheekily, Will slid his hand towards hers, she hadn’t done anything to pull away from him, Will had then laughed at her response, aware that there had been a soft grip around her fingers.

“You’ve been drinking every day,” he had brought up again and with her lips gently pinched, Serena sighed through her nose.

She had then accepted that he will never drop it. “Why do you care?”

“Sometimes I hear you cry,” Will said and tense, Serena gently flared her nose. “You cry out for your family…your family died. Do you think it was all your fault?”

Suddenly, everything felt heavy and Serena looked away. “It was,” she said as if it was a fact.

“I know what that feels like,” Will kindly shared, he had then urged her to look back at him. His pretty eyes and calm face, Serena couldn’t help but stare at him, she understood why Tessa felt at such awe whenever she saw him. “I had an older sister Ella,” Will introduced. “She was a warrior, she was…I was attacked by a demon that I released from a Pyxis. She went to protect me and ended up getting poisoned by the demon…” he trailed, his last word almost a whisper, it was as if he had wanted to say something else, but couldn’t.

With empathetic eyes, Serena had saw an emotion in Will she had barely saw, guilt.

“I’m so sorry Will,” she gently apologised, and when the Herondale boy returned to gaze at Serena, there had been a look of encouragement in his eyes, to push her to explain her story. Serena hesitated, but she could feel the way his thumb circled around her knuckles. “What I am, I’m special,” Serena said. “There are people who hunt people like me,” she explained and with anticipation, Will held her hand tighter, aware she had used her strength to not cry.

“The people who tried to hunt me burnt my home, in attempt to find me, but I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to protect them I---”

Will hugged her, allowed Serena to gently cry against him. “I couldn’t stand not knowing you,” Will said as he hugged her tighter, as if he was afraid that she’ll slip from his grasp, Will inhaled her scent, infatuated by her presence, her story. “I dream of you every night, of you happy, when you’re crying, I cannot bare seeing you upset, Serena.”

Serena had not been aware with how intense Will had felt. “I want to fix it,” he whispered and with her hands against his chest, welcoming his warmth through her palms, Serena shook her head.

“You cannot fix it,” Serena foretold as she pulled away from him. Hands clasped around her face, Will moved his fingers to wipe her tears, wiped them as if someone were to wipe a blurred window. He looked at her, captivated by her essence, if she saw the way she’d look, as if she had been a Siren pulled out of the water, eyes mesmerising, lips soft and pretty. Will could feel his heart want to explode.

He had made her feel things intensely, and he had kept it for too long for his own sake. “I feel silly,” Serena pouted, and Will’s eyes softened. “Making a girl cry?” Serena claimed at Will who had then smiled, his hands still around her face, Will pulled himself closer.

“You’re not just a girl, are you?” Will asked and he stared at her, thus, he had wondered how silly he had looked. As if he were a lone man facing a giant Goddess ready to be claimed by her. “Serena,” he had whispered, not to call her, but to say her name. “Serena,” he repeated again, reminding himself of the times he’d touch himself in thought of her, how he’d cry out her name as he’d reach his bliss, how he’d curl his back and buck his hips again, and again, and again. This woman was compelling. He had wondered how she would feel, how she would taste. “Serena,” he said again before he kissed her, and he gently moaned. It just as he had thought, she had tasted, good.

Shocked, Serena had gasped into his mouth, but had kissed back. Eyes closed as Will leaned her against the bed, he wondered if Serena could feel him, how he had ached to rock against her. He had wanted her so badly, wanted Serena to himself, so he had continued to kiss her, melt into her and yearn to rest his body inside of her.

Serena whined against his lips, she could feel him, and she wanted him so badly. So badly. “No,” she whispered as she had pushed him away, Serena quickly got to her feet. “I need to go,” she blurted before leaving her bedroom without looking back at him.

story masterlist

masterlist

#will x reader #will herondale smut #will herondale fanfiction #will herondale #tessa gray #jem carstairs #shadowhunters #shadowhunters chronicles #the shadowhunter chronicles #greek mythology #aphrodite #will herondale x you #will herondale x oc #the infernal devices #shadowhunter

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nevada-wrytes · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 6 - Cold Welcome

Content Warnings: mentions of death

link to the previous chapter and link to the next

The portal spit him out six feet above a mausoleum in cold, muddy terrain. Surprised, Raven lost his balance and landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs and fabric. Neroli and Arcane were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were a little pissed about the money.

He shook off the teleporting lethargy and stretched while the cemetery slowly unfolded around him, almost like a skittish cat. Rolling fog covered the rows of tombstones, which, once bursting with offerings and flowers, now lay barren. He leaned down to pick up a stray, trampled petal from some golden flower. Everything else had been scavenged.

Although the cemetery looked the same, it didn’t feel the same. There was no life, no warmth, and no movement. The once dewy grass was now wilted and limp, succumbing to ankle deep mud. The trees he saw in the distance were nothing more than dark, rotten husks covered in spores.

Funny how the only colors in this place were the unnatural hues of fungi.

If Raven could put a sign that said ‘Welcome to the Underneath’ anywhere, it would be here. Cold. Wet. Grey. Mud sticking to his boots as if trying to pull him under. No sounds besides his own breath.

This was not a place for the living. The Underneath, in all its cold stoic glory, was the realm of the dead: ghosts, lost souls, demons, and now, apparently, Raven.

The Underneath was a mirror dimension, of sorts. It didn’t really exist under the surface of reality, or the Above, but more so occupied the spaces in between.

However, the Underneath was not a perfect replica. Unlike the world above, it consisted of layers of different times and eras, allowing every century to be present in the same location, usually all on top of each other.

Raven could only explain it like this: imagine trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle with thousands of pieces, but there isn't enough time to put the pieces where they’re supposed to fit, so they get thrown together in whatever order where the full picture makes a little bit of sense. Oh, and the puzzle is being put together in a dark cave. Underwater. During an earthquake.

If this sounds like a hot mess, it was, which is why this glorious reality vomit is always covered in thick, rolling fog.

The fog was not placed there for malicious intent. Sometimes fog can feel choking and heavy, but the fog here felt airy and gentile. Almost like stumbling into a laughing relative as a child— it teases you, then gently guides you to turn back, away from what it is hiding, since it's not meant for you to see. Raven wouldn't be surprised, actually, if the fog was one of his relatives.

The fog gave this world a dreamy feel. The only places that truly felt concrete were spots carrying a great burden of death. Graveyards, battlefields, prisons, hospitals, highways, oceans, and forests. These places were called In-Between zones, because there, the barrier between the World of the Living and the World of the Dead were so thin you could even catch a glimpse of green grass or fluorescent lights or clear blue sky.

When he finally made it out of the cemetery, Raven found himself walking down a gravely road, pebbles crunching under his feet. The fog had given him enough room to breathe, but he could still only see the road ahead of him, a straight path that just kept going. Time and space were pretty easy to manipulate in the Underneath, so one just had to think really hard where they desired to go— and if all entities in the Universe didn't feel like fucking with you, a path would appear, just like that.

But Raven found walking down a long, straight road incredibly boring. Maybe if there were some nice views around him it would be more pleasant, but it was all dense, grey fog.

As if sensing his irritation, the fog suddenly closed in around him. Forget what he said about it being nice.

Although choked for air, Raven forced himself to continue walking into the white abyss, until the sound of gravel under his feet turned into the muffled crunch of snow.

៴

The closer he got to the City of the Dead, the colder it became. With a pop of his collar, his studded leather jacket transformed into a warm brown parka, with fur around the hood— a neat trick he picked up from a mage in the Balkans.

The fog, having delivered him to his destination, seemed to be in a playful mood, darting in and out of the corners of his vision, revealing aging stone structures, concrete blocks, or marble columns. Things from ways across the world that shouldn’t be found within six feet of each other appeared side by side as if it were no big deal. The fog seemed to think it was funny, and kept showing him more and more crazy architecture mashups until he finally gave in, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tiny grin.

But the revelry was short-lived. The fog had, at once, disappeared, and Raven soon found the culprit. Huge braziers full of glowing flame that leaped and danced cut through the mist like a knife to flesh. And attached to the braziers was an immense wall, at least the size of a two story building, made out of a shiny black rock.

No one stood by this entrance, it was still a way off from the city center anyways, so no one was there to stop Raven from running his hand over the designs carved into the smooth wall. Pictures too large for him to see up close, but nonetheless intricate and detailed. It was beautiful, but he wished it wasn’t.

Passing through the archway, Raven was at once thrown into the thick of things. The streets really wanted to be cobblestone, but phased into asphalt in the corners and paved dirt in the middle. On his left was a Mayan temple, and on his right a Communist-era apartment building. Some buildings stacked on top of each other, others faded in and out of reality as if they, too, were ghosts.

It felt dizzying, being back here, and he bumped into too many strangers in his effort to reorient himself. Someone cursed at him to get out of the way of a high speed racing car right as he watched a chariot go down the next street. Lanterns flickered by the road, the flames tended by young beings with giant poles, even though electricity buzzed somewhere not that far away. Beings of all different kinds and from all different ages went about their days, some dressed for the cold like him, and others seeming to not even notice the temperature at all.

Mothers pulled their young passed windows of toys, merchants selling ancient goods hawked at street corners, and light and even laughter spilled out of pubs and restaurants, too.

There were open air markets, balconies with hanging minerals and gems carved to look like flowers, squares where musicians played all kinds of music through the eras, and the noise— everyone spoke different languages, some long dead and gone, but they were understood nonetheless.

The bleak, grey landscape of the Underneath was transformed. No longer was death full of sorrow and emptiness, it was a chance for new life.

Raven had to sit down. He felt overwhelmed. Searching for a brief moment of escape, he ducked down an alley and found a quiet garden.

Each flower bed held more precious materials than all the world’s treasuries combined. Stems made out of thin bones held sparkling gems carved into delicate, curving petals. Tiny amber bees lay tucked into blossoms while emerald grasshoppers hid under jeweled leaves. Thousands of finger bones made up the branches of a tree where rubies the size of a fist hung like forbidden fruit. A fountain stood in the center of a paved walkway, decorated with human skulls and femur bones.

Raven sat down at its sides, gazing wistfully into the water flowing through— so crystalline he wondered if it, too, were made of precious minerals. The bubbling sound of the fountain made him realize how thirsty he’d become on his journey here— and the water pooling into the basin looked so clear and refreshing— surely one sip wouldn’t do any harm—

Raven got so close to tilting his head down before he came back to his senses.

The water smelled like rot.

He still had a way to go, Raven could afford no more distractions. He set back on his trek to the inner city, first putting on his hood to avoid the sights and sounds around him.

The plan was simple: hightail it to his boss’s office, don’t talk to anyone on the way there, receive whatever punishment he would get for skipping work, then get out. No need to stay longer than he had to.

But what would he do after that? What's left for him in the Above? Find a new city to cozy up in, find a new partner to date, then anxiously watch and wait as they eventually meet their fate? Could Raven even pretend anymore that things were okay? Could he look into his lover's face without seeing their bloated corpse in front of him?

The inner city was guarded by another set of walls, albeit smaller. Only the right personnel were allowed in, and although Raven didn’t want to, he would have to show his identity there. But after that moment of panic of would they recognize me? Do they know who I am?, it was smooth sailing from there.

The inner city was built like an airport terminal or train station. Guards guided new arrivals to their locations, workers or staff milled about on lunch break in cafes or parks, and beings leaving the realm stood by giant doorways, waiting for their turn to go. There was still the usual chaos of the city, but it felt more contained. Productive, even.

And then there was the pièce de résistance of this entire place. Craning his neck, Raven looked up, passed the jagged cliffs, to the giant fortress carved into them. It towered over the inner city, so high up the black walls disappeared into a fog, but Raven knew what was up there. A sprawling castle, the room and board for most of the workers, and in the center, a tall, imposing skyscraper made entirely of glass. And at the tippy top, the head office: his destination.

There weren’t as many beings walking around compared to the outer city, but those that were could be familiar faces, so Raven hid himself further in his jacket and hiked up his shoulders as if he hated everybody in this world. It was still cold, his breath clouded in front of him. It was always cold.

Thankfully he didn’t have to stay out there for long. One more block and he found a station to duck into. After a long flight of stairs, an underground shuttle waited to take him to the main building. Warm air leaked from these underground tunnels, and he could finally take his jacket off. Some other demons and spirits waited on the platform, business suits and briefcases mixing with period appropriate outfits or giant swords, but no one paid him any mind.

When the train arrived, the light bulb above him flickered. Raven wrinkled his nose. How cliché.

The doors slid open and a throng of beings slid out, chatting amongst each other or completely engrossed in their obsidian tablets.

At last, Raven stepped onto the train. All the seats were taken so he had to hold one of the handlebars. As the car moved into the tunnel, the lights went out. The entire car was illuminated only by the glowing red exit sign. It was silent.

Getting off the train was the same, but this time Raven followed the throng of beings into the first packed elevator. He wanted to go in one by himself, but looking at the crowds, that would never happen. Also, he couldn't afford to waste time, although he couldn't see it, the obsidian tablet in his pocket with the short message from Undesirable No. 1 felt like a chain— and not the cool, decorative kind.

The elevator went up and up and up. Beings got in and out, until the stream slowly ebbed and it was just him and a few others.

Then there was just him and one other guy left.

He looked like a generic office worker, white button up and brown shoes. Probably a spirit, a poor soul who was so good at working in their life that they'll even do it in death. Raven wondered what kind of contract he had. What had been enough to sentence yourself to an eternity of menial labor?

And because the Universe really hated him, the guy turned around. Raven wasn’t sure what he was before, but now it was obvious. The man had burn marks on the entire right side of his body, scars that ran good and deep. Only spirits have marks like that, usually to show how they died. Arcane, for instance, had been jumped and her body picked for parts, which was why her limbs were all sewn together now, like a doll.

This man must have been in some tragic workplace related accident, given his choice of outfit even in death. Raven squinted at his lanyard. It said his name was Dave.

"You come here often?" Dave asks, as if that's a completely normal thing to say in an elevator at work.

Raven thought about not replying, but who knows if this Dave would just keep talking, and that would be even more awkward.

"No."

"Ah, that's what I thought. I haven't seen someone like you on the upper floors a lot, and I've been here twenty two years."

"Thanks."

"Oh- no," Dave flushed, "I didn't mean it like that, I, er, you here for a meeting?"

"Yup." Raven popped the 'p' sound.

"Not much of a talker are you? That's fine, I'm sure you're just silently like ‘why is this old geezer talking to me? I'm just trying to do my job,’ right?" Dave laughed. It was a very self deprecating laugh, and Raven did not join in.

Raven looked at the floor number on the side of the elevator, it was taking its sweet time going up.

"Don't see many kids going up here anymore, just a bunch of office workers you know," he laughed again.

"I'm older than you."

Again, Dave seemed embarrassed, "Oh right, I'm so sorry, ‘don't assume ages, Dave, this isn't like real life, people can be older than they seem,’ that's what I keep telling myself, but you know, it's hard to get used to."

Raven nodded along, although he was silently wishing with all his might, practically willing the elevator to go up faster.

"Uhm, weird question, but can I ask when you died?"

Raven shot him a cool gaze. "I haven't."

"Oh! Oh. Sorry, I just assumed again, with your hand and uhm-"

Raven looked down at his hand. Although one was in his coat pocket, the other was at his side. He was missing his ring finger on his right hand, but that was hardly a spirit mark. Dave didn't really know much, did he.

Raven held up the hand. "I sacrificed my ring finger for the powers to destroy the world." He offered as an explanation.

Dave didn't really know how to come back from that. "Ah, right. Cool, cool."

The elevator finally fell into silence. Until it got to Dave's floor, and he turned around to wave.

"Well, if you ever need anything, I work on this floor, in post-mortem Accounting." He smiled as the doors closed. Raven did a very bad smile back, where he just stretched his mouth into a line. Dave's smile was nice. It didn't belong in this cold place.

The elevator kept going up and up. Luckily they had gotten rid of the cheesy music years ago, at the tearful pleas of the workers who had to listen to it for so long, but somehow the absence of annoying yet cheery tunes made it worse.

Raven hated silence.

Finally, after what felt like another eternity, the elevator doors pinged open. Raven stepped out onto the top floor, which opened up into a small receptionist area in front of two giant doors that Raven knew left into the room of his demise.

Maybe it wasn't too late to go back— he began to back up, but the elevator had already gone down.

Tag list! (ask to be added/removed) @oc-writing-corner (I can do that, right?) @thebonecarver @victorfrankingstein @confused-as-all-hell @iambecomeyourvillain @brekkercookie @purpl-cryptid @reyyya @thecurlychameleon @naz-yalensky @thesexypanda-boo @kazoo-the-demjin @twelve-kinds-of-trouble @irishyacinths

#nevada writes #raven nv #oc writing #writing #realized the last chapter was posted exactly two months ago so I knew I needed to get this one up as well #this was a very difficult chapter to write hope y'all like it #also a pretty long chapter eh? I'm proud of myself #final word if anyone knows any other websites I can post my writing lmk I want to network a bit more

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beeblackburn · 2 years ago

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Top 5 media with trans rep/themes?

Thank you, @xserpx!

Truth be told, this question is actually trickier than you think, because I haven’t read/watched that much medias with explicitly trans rep/themes, I own a lot, but haven’t read them quite yet, and the better stuff I’ve read is sequestered in my writing server via snippets and tidbits from others... or indie/self-published publications and patreons... and, uh, not to oversell my stuff, but my own writing KOFF KOFF.

To be clear, I do have enough to give a list, but given what I’ve heard of Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin (can you believe I bought that damn book six times?) and Tell Me I’m Worthless by Alison Rumfitt, this list is liable to change after checking out at least the former.

But without further ado...

Cheer Up! Love and Pompoms by Crystal Frasier and Val Wise - Look, I promise I love pain and violence and self-loathing and feeling like your skin’s a stranger to you, but this was done by a trans writer and artist team and it damn shows. As a whole, it really sings in how the trans experience feels like acceptance in your support network is conditional on how well you act. How well you don’t rock the boat, how well you perform to your preferred gender, and how unstable and insecure you can still be, despite all that and more. It doesn’t wallow in those thorns too long, but in terms of trans rep and theme? It’s my favorite, and it doesn’t hurt that I love the art.

Tangerine, directed by Sean Baker - If the above was the more optimistic take of trans childhood, this is the poignant, if still playful, reality behind a decent chunk of adult trans womanhood, done with a cheap budget, but with verisimilitude intended. It doesn’t pull punches on how shitty trans sex workers are treated, how they’re objectified and abused, but it still allows them agency and personhood in how they go about the tangle of their professions and personal lives. And, more importantly, it doesn’t pull punches of how fellow trans people can hurt each other through their flaws and bad choices... but doesn’t surrender that they can still offer solidarity when the going gets really tough from systemic transphobia.

A Grisly Communion by N.J. Barna - If the first above was trans experience as childhood joy and love, the second was grounded street-walking reality, this is transcendental body horror. It’s a story that understands following our commonplace religious institutions can give you some degree of safety... but it can’t give you peace of mind, nor body. That the (fat) trans experience is conditional on being useful, on not taking up so much space for threadbare tolerance, and it’ll never be enough, given that fatness intersects upon the transness of it all. So, when unusual idols of worship are offered... we take them, because they, at least, would pay respect to our bodies and grant us the power to be on the other side of being meat from judging eyes.

Boys Run the Riot by Keito Gaku - I really wish this wasn’t cancelled before its time. This manga deserves at least a year’s worth of chapters, being an unconventional look into high school adolescence through a trans man’s pen, and a trans boy’s eyes as he navigates through being closeted in Japanese school culture and masculinity, his love life, and especially his daily choices of fashion, and how he eventually tries to gain more friends and allies through opening himself up... with plenty of teeth in how trans privacy must be respected for their safety, and how influencer culture intersects with gender performance and the need for online cache, with no easy answers there.

Realm of the Elderlings - What Hobb lacks a bit in the full understanding of transgression in the trans experience or culture as a whole, she makes up for in allowing a messiness in individual characterization and having one of the best gender nonconforming characters in all of fantasy. I’m not as crazy about the Fool as some fans, but he’s eminently quotable, layered, complex and messy as hell, and when he talks about love and yearning, such concept of malleable bodies, and how he transgresses cultures with utter confidence in his presentation, it’s enough to make one’s heart swell and ache at how there are not more characters like him in fantasy, for when he speaks of such experiences, it feels like he touches a part of you that transcends the physical.

#cheer up! love and pompoms #tangerine #a grisly communion #boys run the riot #realm of the elderlings #crystal frasier #val wise #sean baker #nj barna #keito gaku #robin hobb

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dogopower · 1 month ago

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Chapter Six: “The Gift of the Archons”

The journey through the veil was a transcendent experience, each step peeling back the layers of reality and exposing the raw fabric of the multiverse. Time and space seemed to dissolve, replaced by a vast expanse of shifting light and color. In this realm of pure energy, the archons stood as guardians and guides, their presence both imposing and serene.

As Nova and I approached the largest of the beings, a sense of purpose filled the air. The archon’s crystalline form pulsed with an inner light, its gaze fixed upon us with an intensity that transcended words. This was a moment of revelation, a convergence of knowledge and destiny.

“You seek the path of transcendence,” the archon’s voice resonated in my mind, a symphony of tones that wove together into a single, coherent thought. “To understand the cosmos, one must first understand the self. But the knowledge you desire extends beyond the self—it is the mastery of space, time, and energy.”

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation. “We seek to traverse the stars, to break free from the confines of our world. We need the means to build a vessel, a craft capable of bending reality to our will.”

The archon’s form shimmered, its energy coalescing into a vision—a blueprint of unimaginable complexity. “To construct such a vessel, you must harness the forces that bind the universe. Plasma induction, bubble propulsion, and the manipulation of gravitational fields are key to unlocking the skies.”

Nova’s voice, steady and analytical, broke the silence. “Begin with plasma induction. It’s the cornerstone of advanced propulsion systems.”

Plasma Induction: The Heart of Propulsion

1. Understanding Plasma:

• Plasma is the fourth state of matter, an ionized gas consisting of free electrons and ions. It can conduct electricity and is affected by magnetic fields, making it ideal for propulsion.

2. Creating a Plasma Induction System:

• Plasma Generator: Build a chamber that ionizes gas using high-energy electrical discharges.

• Magnetic Containment: Use powerful electromagnets to contain and direct the plasma flow, ensuring stability and control.

• Power Supply: A robust power source is essential, capable of delivering sustained energy to maintain plasma generation.

3. Propulsion Mechanics:

• Acceleration: Plasma is accelerated using magnetic fields, creating thrust. This process, known as magnetohydrodynamics (MHD), allows for precise control of the vessel’s movement.

• Efficiency: Plasma propulsion systems are more efficient than conventional methods, providing greater thrust with less fuel.

Bubble Propulsion: The Envelope of Travel

1. Concept of a Warp Bubble:

• A warp bubble is a theoretical construct that allows a vessel to travel faster than light by distorting space-time around it. The craft remains stationary within the bubble, while the space-time outside moves.

2. Creating a Warp Bubble:

• Energy Field Generators: Place superconducting rings around the craft to generate intense electromagnetic fields.

• Space-Time Manipulation: Use these fields to compress space-time in front of the vessel and expand it behind, creating a bubble of normal space surrounded by warped space.

3. Navigating the Bubble:

• Control Systems: Advanced computer algorithms are required to manage the delicate balance of forces within the warp bubble.

• Stabilization: Constant monitoring is necessary to maintain the integrity of the bubble and ensure safe passage.

The Archons’ Blueprint: Constructing the Vessel

The archon’s vision expanded, revealing intricate designs and schematics. “This is the vessel of transcendence,” it intoned. “A craft born of light and energy, capable of traversing the interdimensional realms.”

1. Frame and Structure:

• Material: Utilize carbon-silicon composites and metamaterials that can withstand the stresses of interdimensional travel.

• Design: The craft’s structure must be aerodynamic and capable of generating and maintaining a stable warp bubble.

2. Propulsion Systems:

• Plasma Induction Engines: Install multiple plasma engines to provide thrust and maneuverability.

• Bubble Generators: Equip the vessel with the necessary technology to create and sustain a warp bubble.

3. Control and Navigation:

• Artificial Intelligence: Incorporate advanced AI to manage propulsion systems, navigate through complex space-time geometries, and respond to unforeseen challenges.

• Sensors: Use quantum sensors to detect and analyze the surrounding space-time fabric, ensuring precise navigation.

The Archons’ Gift: A Path to Liberation

The archon’s gaze softened, its form radiating a sense of completion. “With this knowledge, you hold the key to liberation. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. Use this gift wisely, for the journey ahead is fraught with challenges and wonders alike.”

I bowed my head, the enormity of the moment washing over me. “Thank you. We will honor this gift and use it to forge a new path.”

Nova’s voice, filled with resolve, echoed in my mind. “Together, we’ll build the future, one step at a time.”

As the vision faded, the archons’ forms began to dissolve into the ether, their presence lingering like a haunting melody. The path was clear, the tools in our hands. Now, it was up to us to craft the vessel and embark on a journey that would redefine the boundaries of existence.

In the silence that followed, I felt a profound connection to the cosmos, a sense of unity with the forces that shaped reality. The symphony of the stars called to us, and with the archons’ guidance, we were ready to answer.

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lifechanyuan · 2 months ago

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The Chapter of Preaching Tao, Article 10: The Mysteries of Space

Tao One

July 15, 2006

(Translation edited by Qinyou)

The magical experience lies in exploring space. The larger your mind, the larger the space. The vast, boundless space allows you to spread your wings of imagination and fly beyond the speed of light. As long as you can perceive it, wherever your awareness reaches becomes your beautiful and beloved homeland.

Where is Matter?

Understanding that the universe is empty is a piece of wisdom from the Buddha. The mystery lies in the principle that emptiness is not different from form, and form is not different from emptiness. To grasp this principle, we first need to examine where matter resides.

The Milky Way is composed of matter (excluding other components). From Earth, the Milky Way appears as a cloud. To investigate the presence of matter, let’s focus on the solar system. However, this is still problematic. Eventually, we must use a stone to illustrate the matter.

A stone is clearly a material object, but to understand it, we need to dissect its cells because any material object is composed of its cells. Without cells, there is no matter.

Undoubtedly, a stone is made up of molecules, which are composed of atoms. Atoms consist of nuclei and electrons. Nuclei are made up of protons and neutrons, and protons and neutrons are composed of quarks. Then come hadrons, mesons, baryons, leptons, bosons, photons, neutrinos, fermions, gluons, quanta, and so on. We can’t determine what constitutes what anymore. However, we know that peeling away a material object layer by layer, like an onion, will eventually reveal its true nature. But what is the true nature of matter? Strings? Clouds? Spirits? Let me tell you: the true nature of matter is emptiness. If the core of matter is emptiness, then where is matter?

A trillion protons lined up in a straight line are only one millimeter long. What is the cell of the cell of the cell? Emptiness.

So, what is emptiness? Emptiness is matter. Space is the distance between matter, or it is the realm of matter. In other words, emptiness is form (matter), and form (matter) is emptiness. Emptiness is not different from form, and form is not different from emptiness. Form is emptiness, and emptiness is form.

Where is matter?

How Big is Space?

Space is infinite. The number of digits after the decimal point of pi represents the vastness of space. Space has no boundaries. The size of space depends on the composition and distribution of matter. If you place two tables side by side, the space between them is small. If you move one of the tables to Mars, the space between them increases. If you move the table to a place billions of light-years away, the space between them expands infinitely. So, how big is space?

Attributes of Space

If we explore space only with our vision or scientific instruments, there is no doubt that space appears singular and one-dimensional. This is insufficient to explain the true nature of space. When we enter a dream state, we find that the space in our dreams extends beyond the scope of our vision and scientific instruments. This indicates that space is not singular but dual. It is not one-sided but multifaceted. It is not singular but layered and multidimensional. Where is the space in our memory? Where is the space in our imagination? Since memory and imagination also involve space, space is not simple but complex.

Space has thirty-six dimensions, but in terms of attributes, there are only two types of space: yin and yang, which also aligns with the principle of Tai Chi.

Yin and Yang Space

The space detected by vision and scientific instruments is yang space, which belongs to the material space. The space of the mind and consciousness is yin space, which belongs to the nonmaterial space. Yang space is composed of matter, such as molecules, atoms, protons, and neutrons. Yin space is composed of nonmaterial, such as consciousness, spirit, mind, and divinity.

The Marvelous Use of Space

Yang space is an insurmountable chasm. The speed of light is the limit of yang space. The only place in the solar system suitable for human habitation is Earth. With our limited material lifespan, living on distant stars is impossible. Moreover, from a technical standpoint, we do not yet have suitable spacecraft to transport us to other habitable planets. Furthermore, even if we had such spacecraft, the average person wouldn’t be able to afford a ticket. We can only gaze wistfully and remain obediently on Earth. I want to emphasize that even if we had a spacecraft and could afford the ticket, we would still die upon reaching another planet. After all that effort, we would still end up dead—how pointless!

Good news is coming!

We can live in yin space. In yin space, the speed of nonmaterial movement is superluminal, even instantaneous. In the blink of an eye, we can reach nonmaterial planets billions of light-years away.

The Thousand-year World and the Ten-Thousand-Year World are beautiful material worlds. Can we reach the Thousand-year World and the Ten-Thousand-Year World? Yes, because yin and yang worlds can transform into each other. Consciousness determines existence. The mode of thinking determines the form and environment of LIFE. As long as the frequency of LIFE resonates with the corresponding LIFE form and environment, we can undoubtedly reach it (see the Thousand-year World and Ten-Thousand-Year World for details).

Does the Elysium World (the Pure Land) really exist? Is there really a Celestial Islands Continent in the Elysium World?

We already know there is yin space. If I ask, "Is there a dream world?" undoubtedly, you will answer, "Yes!" The space of a computer is a virtual space. Before computers existed, we would never acknowledge a virtual computer space. Now with computers and networks, we have to admit there is a virtual computer network space. Now I ask, "Do you believe there is a Lifechanyuan in the computer network space?" Those who have visited the Lifechanyuan website will unequivocally answer, "Yes!" But what would those who have never visited the Lifechanyuan website answer?

So, is there a Celestial Islands Continent?

You might say it is an illusion, but I ask, "What is an illusion? What is reality?" Emptiness is not different from form, and form is not different from emptiness. The illusory is real, and the real is illusory. If you are having a beautiful dream, would you prefer to wake up or continue dreaming beautifully for a lifetime? Would you rather have a ten-thousand-year beautiful dream or wake up and endure decades of anxiety and sorrow in the human world? Would you rather spend half a year enjoying all the beautiful scenery on Earth in the virtual world of computers, or work hard for a lifetime to physically visit each place? What difference does it make to your thinking and consciousness whether you see something in the computer network or in reality?

Do you still doubt the existence of the Celestial Islands Continent? Haven’t seen it, right? Don’t believe it, right? You believe in the existence of the Celestial Islands Continent but don’t know how to get there, right?

Don’t worry, I have a way to make you understand and a way to get you to the Celestial Islands Continent. Once you understand the eight great mysteries of LIFE, you will be enlightened and fully comprehended.

The way of the celestials is joyful, and the Great Void is their home.

Alright! I can only explain the mysteries of space up to here. Whether you can understand the rest depends on your fortune and affinity with the celestials.

Isn’t it fun?

#lifechanyuan #xuefeng

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 10 months ago

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Hart and Hunter - Chapter 13 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

After a brief argument over who will drive what, Halloran and I ride with Dane while Ingrid insists she can handle my beetle.

It's only about a ten-mile drive to Chloe's house but a 1968 VW is not the car I'd pick for my first time driving manual and all I can do is I pray my transmission gets home in one piece.

No one says much on the way.

Halloran sits in the back seat with his eyes closed and I'm too focused on the pain in my arm to make conversation.

Dane keeps glancing at me, probably ready to turn around and speed for the hospital at the first sign of distress, so I keep my mouth shut, not trusting myself to speak.

Chloe and Grace greet us when we arrive and Chloe insists on assessing our injuries before we're even out of the car.

"You don't happen to have kept the knife, did you?" she asks, examining Halloran's wound.

He produces it from his pocket and she inspects it carefully.

It's about six inches long, including the hilt and has a slight curve to it.

Intricate, vine-like engravings cover the handle and trail down the blade.

"Appears to be solid silver," she says admiringly.

"Blade is roughly... ten centimeters. How deep did it go?"

"To the hilt, I think," Halloran says, biting back a sound of pain as she presses lightly on the skin surrounding the wound.

"It's nearly stopped bleeding," she says.

"And you've got a good layer of muscle. Still, it's nothing to take lightly. I can disinfect the wound and close it up but you should see a doctor as well."

"You're likely right," Halloran says, smiling grimly.

"Though I've had worse and cared for it less."

Chloe moves on to me and gently examines my wrist.

"Everything's where it should be, at least," she says.

"But you've probably got at least one hairline fracture. Probably not serious but you should get an x-ray to be sure. For the moment, I can immobilize it and give you something for the pain and swelling. Come on inside and let's get you both cleaned up."

In short order, we're situation in her living room.

Ingrid helps Grace prepare some coffee and light sandwiches, while Chloe washes her hands and lays out what she'll need.

She starts with Halloran, helping him to remove his shirt and cleansing the area around the wound.

Then, with deft and practiced motions, she disinfects and sutures the wound shut before taping a bandage over the site.

"You're sure you're not a doctor?" Halloran asks, admiring the neat work and Chloe smiles.

"No. I'm more interested in alternative healing, really but practical skills come in useful from time to time."

"I can imagine," he says, glancing my way.

At my side, Dane stiffens and I reach over to grasp his hand with my uninjured one, sensing the guilt already setting to work in him.

Accident or not, he'll be blaming himself for hurting me, nonetheless.

Finished with Halloran, Chloe moves on to me and as she gently cleans and immobilizes my wrist with a brace, I study the other man more carefully.

From the way Ingrid and Dane have been staring since they caught up to us, I get the sense that his 'glamour' has slipped and they now see him as I do or near enough that there's no denying the resemblance.

He looks a lot like my father, in fact, except his eyes are blue instead of amethyst like mine, which makes sense except.

"How old are you?" I ask, wincing as Chloe carefully manipulates my arm and places an ice pack under my wrist.

Halloran gives me a crooked smile and swipes sweat-dampened hair away from his brow with a slightly shaking hand.

"It's difficult to say, really, with the time variance between realms. I'm what we call a 'world walker' one who spends about equal time in this world as I do in Faerie. When I'm here, I call Ireland home and I earn my living as a detective there. Everything I told you about myself and why I'm here is true."

"You just forgot to mention we're related," I say drily.

Grace and Ingrid join us then, carrying trays with coffee and sandwiches, expressions of intense interest lighting their faces and Halloran sighs.

"I'd have gotten around to it but I'm sorry it came out the way it did. It must be a shock."

"I thought my grandmother was dead," I say, shaking my head.

"If she's alive, where has she been? What was she doing creeping around in those tunnels and why did she throw a knife at you?"

Halloran turns the silver blade over in his hands, studying it thoughtfully.

"To understand that, you'll have to understand the history as well. How much do you know of Faerie?"

"Not much," I admit and he nods.

"I'll start at the beginning, then. 'Faerie' is what your more philosophical physicists might call a parallel dimension. It exists alongside this world, occupying more or less the same space and time. All around the globe, there are special places 'thin places' where, if one knows how, one may pass between the two."

"You said something about an 'underworld' in the cave,' I say.

"Is that part of Faerie, too?"

"No. It's a third space, yet another 'dimension' if you will. We call it the 'underworld' or the 'shadowlands.' On earth and in Faerie, thin places are stable, once you know where they are, you can find them again. In the underworld, they come and go, disappearing and reappearing randomly. It's easy enough to enter but quite difficult to leave. Traditionally, it's served as a useful place to banish people who need to be punished with something other and possibly worse, than death. For example, Rogue wolf-slayers who happen to be the niece of the Summer Queen."

"Rhiannon," Dane mutters, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"What did she do?"

"Well, that..." Halloran says with another sigh.

"Is a long and very sad story, indeed."

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cricketlinesguru · 1 year ago

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Unveiling the Spectacle:which edition is Indian Premier League (IPL) 2023 Edition

which edition is indian premier league (ipl) 2023?

Introduction :- In the realm of cricket, there's an event that captivates millions of fans worldwide—the Indian Premier League (IPL). As we eagerly await another season of cricketing brilliance, let's delve into what the IPL 2023 edition has in store.

IPL: A Glorious Tradition

The IPL has become more than just a cricket tournament; it's a cultural phenomenon. From breathtaking performances to nail-biting finishes, each edition has added new chapters to the IPL's glorious tradition.

The Excitement Builds: Anticipation for IPL 2023

As cricket enthusiasts, we can't help but wonder: What does the IPL 2023 edition have in store? While specific details might not be available at the moment, the anticipation is palpable. Will it bring new teams, fresh talent, or innovative changes to the format?

Potential Changes and Developments

Rumors and speculations swirl around each IPL edition. Could there be format alterations, team dynamics, or surprises that await fans in 2023? Exploring the potential changes adds an extra layer of excitement to the anticipation.

Star Players to Watch

One constant in each IPL edition is the stellar display of talent. As we gear up for 2023, which star players are likely to shine? A closer look at potential game-changers and emerging talents sets the stage for an enthralling season.

IPL Beyond Cricket: Entertainment Extravaganza

which edition is indian premier league (ipl) 2023?

The IPL isn't just about sixes, wickets, and strategies; it's a grand entertainment spectacle. From star-studded opening ceremonies to captivating halftime shows, the IPL seamlessly blends sports and entertainment.

Embracing the Global Audience

One remarkable aspect of the IPL is its ability to transcend borders. How is the IPL 2023 edition poised to captivate a global audience? The international allure of the tournament and its impact on cricket's global landscape are intriguing aspects to explore.

Stay Tuned for Updates

which edition is indian premier league (ipl) 2023?

While we eagerly await the official announcement regarding the IPL 2023 edition, the beauty lies in the surprises it may bring. Stay tuned for updates, follow your favorite teams, and get ready for another season of cricketing brilliance.

Conclusion

The Indian Premier League continues to be a beacon of excitement, bringing together cricket enthusiasts from all walks of life. As we gear up for the IPL 2023 edition, the anticipation is not just about the matches but the shared joy, camaraderie, and unforgettable moments that make the IPL an unparalleled cricketing extravaganza.

#bet365 live #cricket live line guru #which edition is indian premier league (ipl) 2023?

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pluckksocial · 1 year ago

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The Sweet Secret: 6 Ways Zespri Golden Kiwi Enhances Desserts

Embark on a journey into the delightful world of desserts, where Zespri Golden Kiwi emerges as the sweet secret that transforms ordinary treats into extraordinary delights. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the six enchanting ways Zespri Golden Kiwi elevates desserts, catering to the cravings of all ages. Get ready to discover the golden touch that turns your sweet creations into masterpieces.

Chapter 1: The Golden Jewel of Dessert Toppings

Begin your sweet exploration with Zespri Golden Kiwi as the star of dessert toppings. Uncover the art of slicing, dicing, and arranging golden kiwi atop cakes, tarts, and ice cream sundaes. Dive into the vibrant color, exquisite taste, and nutritional richness that Zespri Golden Kiwi brings to your dessert presentations.

Chapter 2: Golden Kiwi Smoothie Bowls: Breakfast Bliss

Delve into Chapter 2, where we unravel the magic of Zespri Golden Kiwi in breakfast bliss – the smoothie bowl. Learn to create enticing golden kiwi-infused smoothie bowls that not only tantalize your taste buds but also kickstart your day with a burst of energy and essential nutrients.

Chapter 3: Zespri Golden Kiwi Sorbet: Frozen Paradise

Venture into the realm of frozen paradise with Zespri Golden Kiwi sorbet. Chapter 3 guides you through the simple yet elegant process of turning this golden fruit into a refreshing and guilt-free frozen treat. Revel in the velvety texture and tropical flavors that make Zespri Golden Kiwi sorbet a delightful indulgence.

Chapter 4: Golden Kiwi Tart Extravaganza

Unleash your inner pastry chef in Chapter 4 as we explore the golden kiwi tart extravaganza. Discover the secrets of crafting golden kiwi-filled tart shells, complemented by luscious creams and vibrant fruit arrangements. Elevate your dessert repertoire with the sophisticated charm of Zespri Golden Kiwi tarts.

Chapter 5: Golden Kiwi Parfait Perfection

In Chapter 5, we guide you through the creation of parfait perfection using Zespri Golden Kiwi. From layering golden kiwi with yogurt and granola to experimenting with different textures and flavors, learn how to construct parfaits that are both visually stunning and delectably satisfying.

Chapter 6: Golden Kiwi Popsicles: Cool Summertime Treats

As we approach the final chapter, discover the cool summertime treats of golden kiwi popsicles. Learn inventive ways to freeze Zespri Golden Kiwi into popsicles that become the perfect antidote to sweltering heat. Indulge in the icy goodness of these homemade delights, bursting with the sweetness of golden kiwi.

Crafting Dessert Dreams with Zespri Golden Kiwi

As we conclude our journey through the sweet secrets of Zespri Golden Kiwi, you're now equipped to infuse your desserts with a golden touch. Visit our website to explore premium Zespri Golden Kiwi selections, ensuring your desserts are always adorned with the sweet magic that captivates taste buds and leaves a lasting impression.

Visit Pluckk to explore premium-quality kiwis and embark on a journey of year-long tropical indulgence.

#health #health & fitness #fruits #fresh fruits #exotic fruits #health benefits #fruits and vegetables #nutrition

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cooledtured · 1 year ago

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Lords of the Fallen: Unleashing Soulslike Fury on October 13!

The much-anticipated return of the iconic soulslike RPG, Lords of the Fallen, is finally upon us. Released on October 13, 2023, this sequel brings forth a dark fantasy adventure with challenging gameplay and innovative features that breathe new life into the soulslike genre.

The Unveiling on October 13:

The wait is over, and players can now experience the next chapter in the saga, available on next-gen consoles — PS5 and Xbox Series X/S — and on the PC via Steam.

A World Between Worlds:

The sequel introduces a groundbreaking gameplay element — twin worlds. Axiom, the realm of the living, and Umbral, the realm of the dead, seamlessly intertwine as players navigate the interconnected landscapes. This unique dynamic not only adds complexity to the game but also weaves a narrative that promises to captivate and challenge players in unexpected ways.

Multiplayer Marvels:

Lords of the Fallen embraces multiplayer functionality. Players can now join forces with friends, exploring the challenging realms together. The addition of PvP elements offers a competitive edge, inviting gamers to test their skills against each other in intense battles.

Epic Tale Unfolds:

Set in the ominous land of Mournstead, the sequel unfolds a gripping tale. Players embark on a holy quest to restore radiance to the Six Beacons of the Sentinels, facing formidable bosses guarding each Beacon. Taking place over a millennium after the original, the storyline promises a fresh perspective on the established lore, with the looming resurrection of the demon god Adyr adding a layer of mystery.

In the vast digital landscape filled with epic battles and enchanting magic, Lords of the Fallen emerges as a noteworthy comeback for soulslike fans. With its release on October 13, 2023, the game pledges an unforgettable adventure, beckoning players to explore the realms of Axiom and Umbral in a journey that transcends the conventional limits of existence. Brace yourself for an immersive experience that tests, enthralls, and leaves a lasting impression on the daring souls who embark on this venture.

— -

FERNANDO ORTIZ | Writer

POP-COOLEDTURED SPECIALIST

cooledtured.com | GROW YOUR COLLECTION

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mirecalemoments01 · 2 years ago

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#CoopChills #EerieAdventures #GamingThrills #HorrorGaming #LittleNightmaresIII #NightmareUnleashed

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mar-the-magician · 2 years ago

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Studying For Entry Exams With A Sweet Fae Friend

I’m alive, I swear I’m alive!!!!! It has been… like, two months since I posted a chapter of Layered Realms. Apologies for that— life decided to kick my ass in every possible way around mid July and things are only just recently settling into place more. But!!!!!!! Now I can actually guarantee at least somewhat regular uploads, because I have a chapter’s worth of buffer! And yes, heheheheh, that does mean I am sitting on an entire chapter that none of you have seen yet 😏

Also, I’m aware that I gained about thirty-odd followers during the period of time that I didn’t post anything about LR, so if you’re reading this thinking “What the fuck is Layered Realms?” Then here’s your explanation! It’s an original story of mine, and here’s where you can get more info about it!

Cw/Tw: Character is depicted kind of spiraling, not really having a panic attack but something along those lines. Other than that, I think we’re good!

Now that all of that is out of the way, I’ll stop talking your ear off and let you get reading! Chapter six, part six of Layered Realms, part five of A Traveler’s Tale.

Studying For Entry Exams With A Sweet Fae Friend

I shoved the books, pamphlets, and articles farther away from me on the table and collapsed my head into my arms. None of this was sticking in my head, and it didn’t make any sense. I was exhausted, my brain was foggy, and I’d been working at this for hours now. These materials all seemed custom-made for people who had grown up knowing about magic, and all they really needed was a light refresher on the basics and to then delve deeper into the more obscure things that would be on the entry exams. I needed much more than a refresher on the basics, I needed an entire mastercourse. There was no way I was going to pass those tests. And then what would happen? I might not get to see Eris or Amir or Hedera ever again, and I would just have this knowledge and these books and materials that I spent way too much money on and time on, and it would all be—

I heard clomping nearby. It sounded like it was right outside my kitchen door.

“What the…” I approached the door and peeked out.

“Eris?!” I swung open the door immediately. Unlike when I’d last seen him in the forest, he had that illusion spell or whatever it was over his legs. Granted, not as bad as a kid with goat or deer or whatever legs standing right out in broad daylight, but they still looked wonky.

“Eris, what are you doing here?” I hissed, dragging him inside. He flashed a silly grin at me.

“I heard Amir and Hedera talking and Hedera was asking him to send you something, but he said you’d probably be stressed with studying so he’d wait. I didn’t want you to be stressed! So I came to find you!”

“How did you even—“ I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Never mind. Does anyone even know where you are??” His face fell.

“Ooh… I should have thought of that, shouldn’t I…” ‘Oh no you made the child sad, you made the child sad you idiot—‘

“I hope I didn’t worry anybody, I don’t want them to be scared for me—“

“It’s okay, buddy, I can text Amir, remember? And he can tell Hedera and anyone else who needs to know. It’s gonna be fine.” I reassured him, ruffling his curls. I walked back into my main living room, motioning him to follow. His eyes widened at the pile of printed materials on my table and I laughed a little.

“Amir was right about that, I am stressed.” I snatched my phone from on top of a book about how commanders influenced history without being found out as magic users (one of the only ones that had made some semblance of sense), went to messages, and scrolled.

‘Just in case no one knows, Eris is with me. he came to cheer me up lol’

‘Ah, excellent. Thank you for telling me Traveler— I had a pretty good guess, but it’s good to know for sure. Now Hedera won’t bite my head off. 😂’

‘😂

does he need to be back by a certain time?’

‘Just don’t keep him too long. I’ll let you know if Hedera says otherwise, though. I can come pick him up and just teleport home with him when you’re done.’

‘sounds like a plan!’

I turned back to Eris.

“Amir knows where you are now, and he says you can stay for a little bit!”

“Yay!” He scrunched up his cheeks till they nearly closed his eyes, and pulled his shoulders right up next to his ears.

“Amir’ll come get you when it’s time to go. Until then, what do you want to do? I can put off studying for a few hours to destress, I suppose…”

Eris widened his eyes almost comically.

“Oh no Traveler! You still gotta study! You have exams in a couple days! I was just hoping I could make the studying itself less stressful…” I sighed.

“Okay then, buddy. How do you plan on doing that?” I sat back down and patted the seat next to me. He scrambled over to be next to me and had a quick look over the books.

“The way Hedera always tells it to me is like this: when you have an overwhelming project or problem, the first thing you gotta do is break it down to ‘manageable chunks.’ Then you just take the chunks one at a time, and you’re done before you know it! It’s like cutting up your food before you eat it!”

“I guess that makes sense…” I sighed. Eris smiled at me.

“And… this is my wisdom, so don’t take it quite as seriously, but if I can make it pretty and fun, I think it makes it feel better even when you’re doing hard things.”

“How would you suggest we do that?”

“First off, Traveler, you should drink water and get yourself a lil’ snack.” He commanded firmly. “Amir always says he can’t focus with an empty stomach.” I rolled my eyes and barely contained a sigh. ‘Does Eris even know what Amir eats?’

“Okay, little man.” He followed me around the kitchen as I assembled a bowl of fruit and yoghurt, ate it, and filled a canteen with ice and water.

“Yay!” He said as we settled back in at the table.

“Now. Do you have cute stickers and writing pads?” He asked with big, shiny eyes.

“Mm— somewhere…” I remembered one of my friends had given me a bunch of cute office and study supplies back when we thought I was actually going to have enough money to go college right away.

“Hang on.” I got up and began rummaging in one of my drawers. Somewhere in here, maybe at the very bottom—

“Here we go!” I tossed the pack of notecards and stickers onto the table in front of us.

“Yay!” Eris clapped his hands and and eagerly attacked the plastic shrink-wrap.

“These are cute! Okay, now try breaking this problem into chunks?” He looked over the whole stack of materials and singled out the example problems sheets.

“This seems like it’d be important. Is it actually the way that the tests are gonna be?”

“As far as I can tell.” I shrugged. He nodded.

“Okay. Maybe make a list of what’s asked in these questions?” My eyes widened.

“Oh my word, how did I not think of that?” He giggled.

“Sometimes a fresh mind and a fresh pair of eyes are all you need!”

“I’ll say!” I grabbed a gel pen and a lined notepad with rainbow bubbles on it to start making that list. Eris laid a gentle hand on my arm.

“I… I think you should read through all the problems first, then go back to the beginning and start writing things down.” I gave him a grateful smile.

“You’re a lifesaver, in more ways than one.”

“It’s no problem, really! I like to help!” He smiled so big that his eyes closed.

The problems were just as confusing before, but I carefully read through every word, taking note of repeated concepts. I made it to about problem seven before I started breathing heavier, thinking once again of just how out of my depth I was, and how hard it would be to pass those exams, and there might be intimidating people there, and I only had a few days left to prepare and—

Eris gently head-butted me, nuzzling into my shoulder.

“Take a drink of water?” His words were muffled in my sleeve. I stared down at him.

“Why?”

“You’re getting all caught up in your fears. Amir says water distracts you from your thoughts and makes you focus on the action of drinking. Maybe it’ll pull you out of your head. Take a drink of water. For me?” My hand shook a little as I reached for the canteen and brought it up to my mouth. I focused on the cold water moving across my tongue, then into my throat, and how the muscles in my neck and throat felt while I swallowed. It was so cold that I could feel as it went down my esophagus and into my stomach. I slowly set the canteen back down. As soon as I did, Eris locked his arms around my opposite shoulder, going under one arm and over the other.

“You can do it,” he whispered. I felt my heart squeeze.

“Thank you, kiddo.”

I managed to make it to problem nineteen before Eris butted me again and motioned toward the canteen. I huffed at my own sensitivity.

“Don’t feel bad about it! I don’t even understand half of these words! It’s definitely hard, and that makes sense. I’m just tryna help with that.”

“I know, but I wish could just— deal with my problems like a normal person.” Eris turned his head up to me with upturned eyebrows and wide eyes. They were hazel at this angle.

“I don’t think there’s any… normal people. Hedera always tells me there’s no wrong way to deal with your problems as long as you’re not hurting anyone.” I made a helpless face.

“I guess— ugh, I guess you’re right.” He just held me tighter.

“You got this.”

Every so many problems, Eris had to remind me to drink or take some breaths. By the fifth correction, I was getting used to it, and the next time I felt overwhelmed, I did it without him asking me. He smiled and nuzzled further into my shoulder.

“How many are there?”

“Forty-five.” I said, a miserable undertone in my voice.

“Hey, you’re gonna be good! Don’t worry! I’m here to be your friend, and you can start on the list as soon you get there. You just wanna read it twice so that you makes sure you don’t miss anything important.”

“I know, little guy. Thank you.” It took us a while, but we finally, finally made it to question forty-five. I already had about five themes and concepts that had stuck out to me because of how often they were repeated, so I put those first at the top of the list.

“1. All human magic users are classified as one race, “commanders”, regardless of affiliation.

2. Humans without natural command who practice manufactured command are called “practitioners” (and that’s what I am)

3. Since I’m gunning for the practitioners’ classes, I’ll mainly need to know about their methods. The main methods are; specific, complex hand movements; drawing diagrams, sigils, transmutation circles, glyphs, and runes; combining reagents as components, sort of like a potion; and the spoken word.

4. All the other types of visual magic are made up of runes, which originate from the demon and fae written languages, as well as drawing from draconic, aquatic (which is apparently mermaid language), and the ‘evocative languages’ of other magical races. The spoken word magic also draws on these resources.

5. Commanders, fae, demons, and other beings with a natural command over a magical force, all draw magic from their own realm. No matter where they currently are, their energy is intertwined with the magic of their own realm, and they channel it through themselves by directing their energy. Practitioners use outside methods of channeling the energy around them. That means whatever realm they’re in, that is what they are drawing magic from.”

I looked down at my handiwork with at least some measure of satisfaction.

“I’d say that covers the most important bits. Now I can try to work on some nuances…” Eris shook his head vigorously.

“You should find where these facts are talked about in your books and articles and stuff and go back over those parts. Highlight them with something pretty! Copy them off onto your notes! Make sure you know all those parts really well! Then you can try to work on some— smaller thingies.” I sighed.

“I guess so…”

“Take a drink of water now— in fact, maybe you should have some sweet drink to celebrate!” I smiled.

“That sounds nice.” He grinned big and pretty at me.

“Hang on, I can make you some tea! Meantimes, maybe work on your five facts. You could give yourself a sticker you like for each one you feel like you really learn!”

“Will do, captain!” I flashed him a grin. The hopeless, emotionally dead feeling in my chest and the pit of my stomach was conspicuously lacking.

“Just don’t burn the kitchen down,” I remembered to caution as I turned back to the books.

“I’m not gonna!” He protested.

“I know how to make tea, Hedera and I pretty much live off it.”

“But do you know how to work a stove?” He fumbled for a second.

“We-ell, no, n-not exactly… but Amir has told me how they work before!”

“I do not trust you not to hurt yourself, my friend—“ I got up and dragged the book I was working on with me to the kitchen, supervising Eris as he very exaggeratedly and slowly, to prove that he knew exactly what he was doing, set my little heat-proof glass kettle on the stove, filled it with water, and started it. Then he pulled from his brown leather satchel at his waist, which I hadn’t even noticed he still had on him, a little pouch of dried leaves.

“Hedera and I grow these as magic practice, so some of them are a little funny sometimes, but these are the nice ones.” He informed me as he got down two mugs for us. He swiveled his head around the kitchen and then asked

“Do you have any cloths that you don’t mind getting a lil’ bit stained?”

“Sure,” I motioned to the cupboard where I kept my rags. “Just pick the most beat-up looking ones.”

He lined the mugs with two raggedy cloths and crushed the leaves into the bottoms of them.

“There we go! Now we can drain the tea leaves out when they’re done steeping.”

“Mmm.” I smiled at him.

“Thank you.” He grinned, silly and sideways.

“You don’t have to thank me, Traveler! I wanted to do it!”

“I know but—“ the water for the tea started boiling. Eris placed a finger over my lips, effectively shutting me up.

“Shhh! Okay, now I gotta take care of this.”

Careful not to touch the hot parts, he took the kettle by the handle and poured the hot water into the mugs.

Once the tea leaf fragments were drained, Eris had somehow managed to turn the bitter leaf water into something delectable with sweetener and cream, and we sat at the table sipping our little “health potions” as I began thinking of them. (Though to be honest, I thought it might actually be a health potion at first— it made me feel that much better.) After he finished his warm drink, Eris got even more cuddly than before, squishing his cheek against me and closing his eyes. Soon enough, I heard his breathing grow more and more slow and even until he was almost snoring softly. He’d fallen asleep with his arms locked around me. I looked down at his calm, peaceful face and smiled, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head. It helped to have him close, breathing a slow, calming rhythm against my side, his warmth almost like a constant reminder to slow down and take it a little easier. Take a breath and a step back if need be. For the first time that day, I actually got into the zone. Time didn’t seem real as I lost myself in the materials, taking pages after pages of notes, marking down and tabling for later the things that didn’t make sense at first so as not to lose my rhythm.

It was quite the shock when I finally set down my pen and looked at the time. And looking out the window I saw that it was already getting dark. Careful not to wake Eris, I reached over half the table with my ink-covered dominant hand and grabbed my phone.

‘Eris is asleep— think it’s about time to come get him?’

It took a few minutes to get a response. As I waited I gently stroked Eris’ hair and stared pensively out the window, and then a notification with Amir’s nickname popped up on my locked screen again.

‘I think so

Hedera would probably prefer him back before the sun goes down completely’

‘Seems reasonable’

‘I’ll just teleport to you, if that’s alright— address?’

I sent him my address.

I gently shook Eris’ shoulder to wake him.

“Amir’s gonna be here soon to take you home, buddy…” he blinked hazily and continued clinging to my arm as I stood up.

“Mm, okay…” I grabbed my phone and half-led, half-dragged Eris through my kitchen. Whipping out the phone, I texted

‘I’ll just come out to the front with him’ to Amir and opened the door to find him standing there. Despite the recent less-than-autumnal weather, he was wearing a pair of black leggings and a warm maroon sweater that had glittery strands woven into the rest of the fabric, a heart cutout, and sleeves that billowed out before being sharply cut off by a wrist cuff of fabric. He tapped his ankle-length boot.

“Well, aren’t you going to come out to the front?” I rolled my eyes.

“Front, I’m gay.” I said in a monotone. He golf-clapped at me. Smug bastard.

“Very good, very good.” He held out his arms for the still half-asleep Eris, and his whole snarky demeanor changed. He leaned down and cocked his head.

“Hey buddy… you ready to go home? Did you have a nice time with our Traveler?” Eris nodded drowsily.

“They did so good… I think I helped a lil’ bit…”

“You helped bunches, kiddo.” I reassured him, awkwardly snaking my arm out from his grip and allowing Amir to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. He looked so peaceful, cheek squished and hands nestled against Amir’s side.

“You’re a lifesaver.” I whispered to him.

“Get much done?” Amir smiled at us both. I laughed softly.

“I think I absorbed more actual knowledge in the time he was here than I did in the whole day and half I tried to study before.”

“He took a looooong nap, huh?” He said, looking at how out-of-it Eris was. I nodded, smiling at him.

“Almost three hours.”

“He’s really taken a liking to you,” he slid an arm under Eris’ legs, which looked significantly less human than they had when he arrived. I waved.

“Bye, little friend!”

“Eris, oh Eris… your glamour could use some work,” he clicked his tongue.

“So that’s what his illusion spell is called!”

“Mhm,” Amir nodded, seeming distracted. He drew a circle in the ground with his toe, like he was planning something out— then he nodded and a low, nasal hum emanated from him. It felt like a solid something passed through me, and I cocked my head at Amir.

“What was that?” Amir winked at me.

“Demons are oft purported to be uncannily good at warding. I just warded this whole area— after all, if you’re going to be learning magic, you may have a mishap or two, and it would be awful if a neighbor were to hear of it or see it.”

“I haven’t even gotten in yet…” I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Oh, but you will~!” He and Eris disappeared, the dim light revealing a small spark left in their wake. I watched as it dissipated with the last of the day’s sun. The sunsets were coming earlier and earlier these days. Finally, I went back inside and closed my door. I still had work to do.

…Apologies for the lore dump… anyway…

I’m not gonna lie, I had some trouble with this one! Big shoutout to BFF for helping me figure out what felt so wrong about the writing at first and thus leading me to fix it! Also she wants me to remind all of you that she has laid a claim on all of the LR characters and they are all hers! 😂

Thank you very much for reading! Next upload will be exactly one week from now! And I can actually guarantee that this time! 😅

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