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blackenedsnow · 26 days ago

Note

IT'S ME AGAIN. DON'T ASK. Please don't question why I'm here, I only have drama in mind, but I have a desire for action.

Singer!reader with Bodyguard!sss(silver, sonic, shadow) team, Reader, a popular singer, was constantly giving concerts and releasing a new album every year and continuing to be popular, but she had a problem singing and performing constantly and after the concert, her voice was constantly muffled/hoarse this always got worried the bodyguards. Reader also delayed them just saying "don't be that worried about it omg..!" like shes mean girl type, Of course, the triple guards know that and they know her well, so they can't/didn't say much. In fact singing was a strength of hers, the songs she sang hooked/obsessed the people and helped them to love her even more. That's the good thing of her power. The bad thing is, if she sings a violent and scary melody or song, it becomes reality, but she didn't know it..yet.

Suddenly she got shot a few bullets in her chest while singing one of those kind of songs, but she kept singing to hide her pain, then a few minutes later of disaster and massive pain she fell to the ground and fans started or tried to help her but the other mean guards didn't let them as the fans began to curse the mean guards as a massive fight begin around them as the main triple guards came to the concert and tried to help her but she was already dying...the triple guards tried to save her as they failed and she died at the concert.

A star who is popular again after 10 years attracts the attention of 3 guards or not anymore guards they were normal hero hedgehogs again. Silver was the first to notice it, then shadow and sonic noticed too but had she changed much? İ MEAN MUCH. She has red hair, red sun-like pupils and a black tight jumpsuit. She also has a beauty mark below her right eye. After 3 hedgehogs tried and managed to get her attention at the concert, she suddenly stopped the concert and wanted to meet privately with 3 hedgehogs.

After entering her own private room she sneeringly smiled and looked at them as they really thought she was a dead popstar but she was faking her dead the whole time trying to recreate her singing power as she began to explain more and answered their question.

I leave you the back questions and the made-up story, You can say anything you want about why she's been acting dead so far..

take care of yourself! ⭐

voice of power

WARNING: Mentions of violence and injury, faked death

PAIRING: Sonic the Hedgehog x (Fem) Singer! Reader, Shadow the Hedgehog x (Fem) Singer! Reader, Silver the Hedgehog x (Fem) Singer! Reader,

NOTE: Hey there! I’m always excited to hear your ideas and write what inspires you! I’m here for it all. :)

SUMMARY: You’re a powerful, world-famous singer with a voice that captivates and obsesses the masses, backed by an elite team of bodyguards: Sonic, Shadow, and Silver. But behind the glamour and success, there’s a price to pay.

The lights dimmed as you took center stage, basking in the deafening roar of the crowd. Their cheers, a familiar symphony of adoration, pumped through your veins like electricity. You flashed a confident smile as you gripped the microphone, your voice effortlessly weaving through the melody. Song after song, you captivated them, holding their hearts in the palm of your hand.

You were a sensation—a force of nature in the music world. No matter how many concerts you performed or albums you released, your popularity never waned. But tonight, like every other performance, the price for your talent was clear by the end.

As the final note echoed through the stadium, your voice, once powerful and sharp, had turned raspy and hoarse. You barely managed a breathy "thank you" before retreating backstage, leaving the crowd chanting your name in blissful ignorance of the strain you were under.

But your bodyguards? They knew.

Sonic was the first to greet you behind the curtain, his usual energetic smile slightly faltering when he saw the exhaustion on your face. “Another great show, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, your tone sharp but dismissive. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Silver and Shadow joined moments later, their expressions a little less carefree. Silver, always the worrier, frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay? Your voice—”

“It’s fine!” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “God, you guys worry too much. It’s just hoarse. Don’t be so dramatic.”

Shadow, standing a bit farther back, crossed his arms, his red eyes studying you in silence. He, more than the others, had learned not to push you when you were like this. It was your way of coping after all.

Sonic glanced at Shadow, but he didn’t argue. He knew better, too. You were their responsibility, yes, but they’d learned over time how to navigate your prickly exterior. Still, the hoarseness in your voice was becoming too common to ignore, and they all knew it.

“You’ve been doing this a lot lately,” Silver muttered, glancing at the others for support. “We’re just… worried.”

You sighed dramatically, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a long sip. “Well, stop worrying. I’m fine. You guys need to chill.”

There it was—that edge in your voice, the cool dismissal. You weren’t cruel, not really, but you had a way of pushing them back whenever they got too close. You’d built walls to keep them from prying into things you didn’t want to talk about—like how drained you felt after every concert, or how your throat burned after singing. They weren’t allowed to worry about you, not if you had any say in it.

But deep down, they couldn’t help it. Because they knew you—better than anyone else.

Still, they held back, even as concern tugged at them. This was your routine. After every show, your voice would be rough, and after every show, you’d tell them not to worry. But as your bodyguards, they couldn’t just ignore it.

Sonic, Silver, and Shadow exchanged glances, silently agreeing to let it go for now. You were strong, and they respected that, but they’d seen enough to know when something wasn’t right.

“You’ve got more performances coming up,” Sonic said after a moment, rubbing the back of his head. “Just… don’t overdo it, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not some fragile little flower, you know,” you replied, shrugging him off as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “I’ve got this under control.”

But they couldn’t shake the feeling that something was building, something you didn’t even realize. After all, they knew you weren’t just any singer. There was something different about you—something powerful about your voice that went beyond just captivating an audience.

And they feared that you might be playing with something you didn’t fully understand.

A few nights later, this specific night seemed perfect—just like every other concert. You were on stage, the crowd hanging on your every word, every note, just like always. The lights were bright, the music loud, and your voice—though a little strained—still commanded the room. But something felt different tonight.

The song you were performing wasn’t like your usual set. This one had a darker edge, a haunting melody that throbbed through the venue like a heartbeat. Your fans didn’t seem to mind, though. They were just as entranced as always, singing along, their faces lit with adoration.

But then, something snapped.

The first shot hit your chest before you even realized what was happening.

Pain. Sharp and all-consuming. It ripped through you, but you didn’t stop singing. You couldn’t. Your voice was your armor, your strength, and no matter what was happening, you couldn’t let the audience see you in pain. So you kept singing, your voice now layered with a hidden agony that none of them could sense—yet.

Another bullet. And another.

Your breath hitched, but the notes kept coming, your body trembling with the effort. The stage lights blurred in your vision, the sound of your voice fading under the roaring in your ears. You couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when all eyes were on you.

But the pain was unbearable.

It felt like your chest was on fire, the bullets lodged deep, your body betraying you. You clutched the microphone tighter, leaning into it for support as your legs began to give out. You didn’t care if it hurt. You didn’t care if—

Your knees buckled. The microphone slipped from your hand, and in a heartbeat, you hit the ground.

The crowd screamed.

Chaos erupted as the fans surged forward, trying to help you, but the security guards—a rougher, meaner bunch hired for the event—blocked their way, shoving people back. “Stay back!” they barked, their voices cold and unfeeling, as if they didn’t care that you were lying there, bleeding out in front of thousands of people.

The fans shouted, some of them screaming your name, others cursing the guards. Fists flew, and soon a full-blown riot broke out. The guards pushed back harder, forming a barrier around you as the concert dissolved into madness.

But you could barely see it anymore.

The pain was overwhelming, blurring the edges of your vision as blood pooled beneath you. The world spun, and your breath came in shallow gasps. The sounds around you—shouts, screams, the clashing of bodies—faded into the background.

Suddenly, through the haze, you saw them. Sonic, Shadow, and Silver were pushing through the chaos, their eyes locked on you. They moved fast, faster than you’d ever seen them, but it didn’t matter. You knew it was too late.

By the time they reached you, your chest was heaving, every breath a struggle. Sonic dropped to his knees beside you, his usual smile nowhere to be found. “Hey… hey, we’re here. You’re gonna be okay,” he said, though his voice wavered.

Shadow was already checking your wounds, his expression grim, while Silver hovered nearby, panic clear in his wide eyes.

But you knew. You could feel the life draining out of you, the strength that had always been there slipping through your fingers. You tried to speak, tried to tell them something—anything—but your voice was gone, replaced by a weak gurgle.

It was too late.

The world was already fading, the pain dulling as your body went cold. You could feel yourself slipping away, the noise of the concert—of the chaos—growing distant.

And then… just like that, you were gone.

Ten years had passed since the tragic night when your life was cut short on stage. The music world had mourned, and your three former bodyguards—Sonic, Shadow, and Silver—had each gone back to their roles as heroes. They tried to move on, but losing you had left a mark on each of them, a wound that never fully healed.

That was why, when Silver saw you again, standing under the bright lights of a new concert stage, his heart nearly stopped.

It wasn’t just the resemblance—it was you. He knew it, deep in his gut, despite the changes. You were different, transformed, but still undeniably you.

“Is that—” Silver muttered, wide-eyed, as he stared at the screen showing the concert.

Shadow, sitting nearby, followed Silver’s gaze. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the screen, a flicker of recognition flashing in his sharp red eyes. “It can’t be…”

But it was. Sonic, who had just walked into the room, caught sight of the broadcast and froze. “No way…” His usual carefree tone was gone, replaced by shock.

The three of them stared at the screen, watching in stunned silence as you moved across the stage, your presence commanding as always, but now with an even more magnetic pull. You hadn’t just changed physically—you were more powerful, more captivating than ever.

“I thought she was dead,” Sonic whispered, his voice barely audible.

Silver was the first to move, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “We need to get to that concert.”

Shadow and Sonic exchanged a glance before following. They didn’t know how it was possible, but if you were back, they needed answers. And more than anything, they needed to see you again.

At the concert venue, the crowd was mesmerized by your performance. Every note you sang seemed to wrap around their minds, drawing them in deeper with every passing second. But your attention wasn’t on the audience—it was on the three familiar faces you’d spotted in the crowd.

Silver. Shadow. Sonic.

It had been years since you’d seen them, but the moment their eyes met yours, you knew it was time. You couldn’t continue the charade any longer.

Without warning, you stopped mid-song. The band fell silent, and the audience, confused and murmuring, watched as you raised a hand to signal the end of the concert.

“I want to meet three people,” you announced, your voice echoing through the venue. “Backstage. Now.”

The crowd erupted in whispers, confused but curious. The three hedgehogs were just as surprised, but they didn’t hesitate. Guided by a mix of disbelief and anticipation, they made their way backstage.

Once inside the privacy of your room, the atmosphere grew heavier. You leaned against the back of a lavish chair, your sun-like eyes gleaming with amusement as you looked over the three hedgehogs before you. For years, they had believed you were dead. The memory of that night, the blood, the chaos—it had been seared into their minds. And now here you stood, alive, and more powerful than ever.

A sneering smile curled at your lips as you crossed your arms, eyes flicking between them. “You really thought I was dead, huh?” You chuckled darkly. “You have no idea.”

Sonic’s fists clenched at his sides, confusion and shock flashing in his emerald eyes. “You died. We saw it happen. How… how are you standing here like nothing happened?”

Silver was quieter, still processing, while Shadow’s sharp gaze hadn’t left your face, his body rigid with tension as he waited for an explanation.

You straightened up, pushing off the chair and taking a slow step forward, your voice turning cold and calculated. “It was all a lie. Every single bit of it. I faked my death that night on stage.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. None of them spoke for a long moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

“Why?” Shadow asked, his voice low, almost growling. His red eyes were locked onto yours, demanding an answer.

You smiled again, this time more bitter than amused. “Because I had to. That night, when those bullets hit me, I realized something. My voice… it wasn’t just a talent. It was a weapon. A power. And I didn’t understand how to control it.” You took a deep breath, letting the gravity of your words sink in. “Every song I sang, every note I hit, could change the world around me. If I sang a sad song, the people listening would become depressed. If I sang something violent…”

Sonic flinched at the memory, recalling how the audience had descended into chaos after you were shot.

“I could have caused a disaster,” you continued, pacing slowly as you spoke. “That’s what was happening the night I ‘died.’ The bullets, the riot—it wasn’t just bad luck. It was me. My voice made it happen. I sang a violent song, and it became reality.”

Silver’s eyes widened, piecing things together. “So… you faked your death to stop it? To stop hurting people?”

You nodded. “Yes. After that night, I knew I wasn’t safe to be around anyone. My powers were too unstable, too dangerous. I couldn’t risk more people getting hurt. So I disappeared. For ten years, I’ve been hiding, working on controlling my abilities, on recreating them in a way that I can harness them—without all the chaos.”

Sonic’s face was twisted with a mix of emotions, hurt and anger mixing together. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped you. We thought you were gone forever!”

You looked away for a moment, guilt flickering across your features before hardening again. “Because I didn’t need your help. I needed time. Alone. You wouldn’t have understood what I was trying to do. I had to figure it out on my own.”

Shadow, silent until now, stepped forward, his voice steely. “And now? What’s changed? You’ve revealed yourself again. Why?”

Your lips curled into a dark smile once more, your red eyes glowing as you met his gaze. “Because I’ve perfected it. I’ve mastered my voice. I’ve become more powerful than ever before. And now… it’s time for me to reclaim the world I left behind. I’m not the same popstar you used to protect. I’m something more.”

Silver frowned, his voice quiet but filled with concern. “But what about the danger? What if it happens again?”

You tilted your head slightly, your smile fading as you looked at him. “That’s the thing, Silver. It won’t happen again. Because now, I’m in control. I can decide who lives, who loves, who fights… and who dies.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of your words sinking in. You were no longer the person they once knew. You were something far more dangerous—and far more powerful.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfic #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic fanfiction #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #silver the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog x reader #triple s #sth #sth x reader #x reader #ask #request #fanfic #oneshot

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year ago

Text

Babysitter

Dandy Mott x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: dandy being dandy, straight up murder, descriptions of a womans dead body, gloria is trying to like sell dandy to women

Author’s Note: i do not know how to feel about this but dandy is still crazy adn sometimes that calls for a weirdly sectioned fic

Requested: by anon, Hey! Your Dandy Mott fics are absolutely scrumptious and I can’t think of anyone better to hand over this idea to. I was thinking Gloria hires Reader as a personal nurse/kinda nanny for Dandy to get him used to being close to ladies his own age but it totally backfires on her cause Dandy gets interested in Reader and throws huge tantrums when his mom tries to get him to pay attention to other (rich) women

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You really needed a job. The summer had started and now that you were out of school there was no excuse for you to be lingering around without a reasonable way to spend your time. You had scoured the town for help wanted signs, dropped off your resumes at every available desk and even visited the local circus to see if they needed someone to hand out tickets.

Some places answered.

None of the places were as interesting as Gloria Mott’s phone call. You hadn’t even been by her house, had no actual idea that she was attempting to hire. You had heard the horror stories of the Mott’s. Dandy had walked around town and caused ruckus but you had never actually met him.

Gloria’s phone call was high pitched and concerned.

“A babysitter? I’m sorry Miss. Mott, I was under the impression that Dandy was around my age.”

“Oh yes, he is! He’s just…a little stunted. In the most affectionate way possible! I would like someone his age to get to know him, get used to the idea of regular people.”

She said regular people like it was a slur. You had no idea what kind of abnormal people she was speaking about or if she was directly talking about Dandy. Regardless, she was willing to pay far too much money for you to just hang out with Dandy. You had babysat before, granted, no one close to your age.

It was between that or stocking shelves at the general store for below minimum wage.

That was how you arrived at the doorstep of a large house. You knocked on the door nervously, unsure what to expect. You teetered back and forth on your feet, peeking through the side window that had the curtains drawn. You jumped when the front door opened.

A woman answered the door wearing an apron. She had a disgusted look on her twisted face.

“You’re the new help?” she questioned.

“I…I guess so.” She didn’t move aside.

“I’m Dora Brown. Welcome to the freak show.” She finally backed up. “I’m the maid here. Gloria said you were here to babysit Dandy?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Though isn’t Dandy my age? Gloria didn’t really specify what my duties here would be.”

“Dandy’s behavior is obnoxious and unreasonable. He’s a spoiled brat who doesn’t know manners,” she seethed. You followed her through the house, trying not to be too amazed at the decor. You hadn’t realized how rich the Mott’s really were. You couldn’t imagine having this much money, enough to decorate the walls with unnecessary pastels.

“So I’m here to make sure he doesn’t act out?”

“I think you’re here to get him used to other people.” She stopped in front of a door. “Good luck with that.” Her tone of voice was not reassuring. She left you there, walking back down the long hallway with no instructions. You looked at the door, unsure what you were going to find behind it. You wondered if this was worth the money. Dora didn’t seem exactly happy. But who was happy at work?

You knocked on the door.

It swang open without much of a delay. Behind it was Gloria, her face pinched into a forced content look.

“Oh good! You’re here.” She moved aside and took your bag from you. “Dandy’s just in his room. If you could just make friends with him.” Her instructions remained vague and you didn’t think you were going to get anything else from her even if you pried. You cleared your throat.

“Why can’t Dandy make friends-”

“You’ll see dear, you’ll see.” She was ushering you towards the door at the end of the room. You suddenly felt unsafe; like she was leading you to slaughter. You had no room to protest because suddenly the door was open and you were being shoved inside.

The door shut harshly behind you.

It was like a children’s play room but enlarged. Toy horses the size of real ones were at the corners of the room. There was a bike and a chandelier. You looked around, absorbing everything rather slow, when your eyes finally landed on Dandy. He was sitting at the front of the room, in front of what looked like a puppet show stage. He stood up when the door shut behind you.

“You’re the girl my mother is paying to watch me?” he questioned. His tone was closer to singing than speaking. You cleared your throat and nodded. You had never seen Dandy in person, only heard the rumors. He was your age. Handsome, if it weren’t for the childish scowl on his face.

“Hi Dandy,” you breathed. “I’m Y/N.” You straightened your back. You had to do what you were paid here to do.

“Y/N.” He played your name on his tongue. He said it again, whispering it and then saying it loudly. “Like a toy.”

“Sure. Like a toy.” You approached him, still looking around the room. “How are you today?”

“Fine. You shouldn’t have to be here. My mother thinks I’m still a child.” He sauntered over to you, landing just in front of you. He observed it curiously, like you were nothing but an object. He put his hand on your arm, brushing down it, like you were made of practice.

“You’re not a child,” you told him. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Right?”

You nodded once.

“What do you like to do, Dandy? This room is pretty magnificent. I can’t imagine you getting bored.”

“I’m so bored,” he promised you. “All the time.” He gestured to everything. “My mother doesn’t like it when I speak about the circus or the clowns. I want to go to the circus Y/N.” You furrowed your brows.

“I haven’t heard much about the circus. What goes on there that’s so exciting?” You sat down on the round green couch in the center of the room. He turned to look at you, eyes wide.

“You haven’t heard?” You shook your head, a small smile on your face.

“No I haven’t.” He sat down beside you, words starting to tumble out of his mouth. He liked to hear himself talk and it was easy to get him going.

You weren’t quite sure what Gloria and Dora were going on about. Sure, Dandy was high maintenance. But he loved hanging out with you. He was a clingy mess, the second you allowed him to speak to you he never wanted you to leave. Multiple nights he insisted on you spending the night. You got used to him fairly quickly and had no issues getting paid to spend time with him.

Frankly, after a while, you grew to enjoy your time with Dandy. Having someone fawn over you endlessly and obsess over your every move was more enjoyable than anyone else gave him credit for. He had no interest in the circus after a while. Why would he, when he had you?

You got him fun trinkets from there when you passed by, pictures of the abnormalities he would go on and on about. He kept them on the wall and in the corner, a shrine to your presents.

Dandy was napping. He had to nap once a day, like a child, otherwise he would get cranky. Typically you read in the same room as him so he wasn’t surprised when he woke up without you. Dora liked to call you ‘Dandy’s favorite teddy bear’.

You had curled up beside him, holding the book open with two fingers. Gloria opened the door slowly, not wanting to wake him up.

“Afternoon,” you whispered. Dandy grumbled at the noise but didn’t wake up. She gave you a curt, whimsical nod.

“Tomorrow evening I’m having some ladies over. Your services won’t be needed.” You nodded once.

“Are you sure? Are they friends of yours or-”

“Potential suitors for Dandy,” she explained. “It’s better if you’re not here to distract him. Though your services have been increasingly valuable,” she admitted. Her voice was wispy. You nodded slowly, glancing down at his sleeping figure.

“No worries. Should I let him know?” She shook her head.

“I’ll let him know,” she said.

“Alright.”

She stared at you for a moment, awkwardly, like she wanted to say something else but nothing else came out. You watched her, evenly, until she left the room. You weren't sure when you had started to hold the cards over Dandy but it felt like you had more sway than her.

Dandy groaned. You brushed his hair out of his face and he nuzzled against your touch.

He reached forward, grabbing at your leg. You hummed and he put his head in your lap. You hummed till he fell back asleep.

It was odd not going to the Mott’s the next day. You wondered how Dandy was handling it. You spent the day pursuing the shops in town, finally having the money to spend. When you arrived back home your phone was ringing. You set down your bags and removed your sunglasses before picking it up.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank goodness.” You recognized Gloria’s phone voice. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for an hour. Where on Earth were you?”

“I was out, I thought I had this afternoon off,” you said. “Is everything alright?” You asked the question, despite being able to hear the ruckus in the background. There was a crash and a yelp from Gloria. You heard some muffled calling from Dora. Then an exasperated groan from Dandy.

“No! No, everything is not alright! Please come over!” It briefly occurred to you to ask for more money. Clearly your services were needed and Gloria’s pockets weren't exactly hurting. Instead you heard another annoyed groan from Dandy and nodded.

“I’m leaving right now.”

When you arrived you could hear the chaos from outside. Glasses shattering, plates breaking, screaming from an annoyed mother. You didn’t bother knocking, instead you just used your key and let yourself inside.

You followed the noises to the dining room.

“I don’t like those ladies' mothers! I don’t want those women, those foul overpriced women!” Dandy explained loudly. “I want Y/N!”

“Y/N is not a- stop throwing things!” Gloria’s strained voice exclaimed. You pushed open the door. There was glass shattered on the ground and beside it, a dead woman. She had a singular gunshot wound in her forehead. Her lips were still open, drool escaping her lifeless mouth. Your eyes floated around.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Gloria exclaimed. “Dora will come clean this up. Please, please, just deal with him-”

Dandy ran over to you, throwing his arms around you. Your receptive actions were halted for a moment, as you took in the events in front of you.

“What happened?” you asked him as he held him against you.

“My mother tried to have me marry a different woman,” he seethed. “Doesn’t she know we’re supposed to be married?” Your eyes opened wide. You couldn’t exactly deny your connection to Dandy but neither of you had talked about anything exactly romantic.

“Oh Dandy,” you whispered. You brushed his hair out of his face. “Did you do this?”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone,” he explained, looking at the dead woman. She was older than him. Much older. Closer to Gloria’s age and status. You narrowed your gaze at her. Dandy was easy to annoy but he was worse when he was uncomfortable.

“I assure you, she was just being friendly,” Gloria said absentmindedly. You watched as she left the room to find Dora. You wondered if this unnamed woman’s death would be talked about at all, or if they would sweep it under the rug like everything else Dandy does.

“I didn’t like her,” Dandy whined. You nodded. He was still holding onto your arms, his grip tightening. You nodded once.

“That’s alright,” you whispered. “Let’s go get some air.” You dragged one of your hands down to his hand. You gripped it, lightly dragging him out of the room. He watched the unmoving woman as he walked. You led him through the front door and to the courtyard. It was empty of any other staff. You were grateful to be alone.

“I want to go out,” he muttered. “I don’t want to be here.”

“We can go somewhere else. Where would you like to go?”

“I don’t care,” he admitted. His hand remained in yours. He looked down at it, observing the intertwined fingers. He hummed, flexing his fingers in and out. “This is nice.”

“I’m sorry your mother tried to set you up with that other lady,” you whispered. He shook his head. Just the reminder of her made him upset. He had disposed of her and now would need no other reason to think of her.

“She’s gone now,” he told you. He said it like it was a promise, as though he had done it to protect you. “Where were you?”

“Your mother said you were having friends over. She said I didn’t need to come by.”

“You always need to come by,” he insisted. He raised his head and let go of your hand. “You’re not like mother or Dora. You listen when I speak,” he said, head straight. You gave him a gentle smile and he gave you one back.

You gestured down the courtyard.

“Should we take a walk?” He thought about it for a moment and then offered his arm. You wrapped your arm through his. He leaned against you and used you as a crutch. You wondered if you were going to get a phone call from Gloria, complaining about where Dandy was. She might even try to fire you, hire a new ‘nanny’ for Dandy, and try and set him right again.

“Do you think we could stop at the circus?” he questioned, voice suggestive. You both knew you weren’t supposed to go there.

“That’s a long walk.”

“We can take one of my cars.” He paused. “I have many.” You nodded slowly.

“Do you have the keys?” His lips turned up into a mischievous smile.

“I may.”

#dandy mott x reader #dandy mott x fem!reader #american horror story imagines #dandy mott imagines #black balloons tag

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thedeafprophet · 9 months ago

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Delayed Gratitudes

The Boisterous Author recieves a late, and unexpected, feast gift.

I have given into my concept of 'what valentines 'gift' would the captivating princess give to Jamie', and this has resulted 😌

Ty freddie and warabola for giving me gift ideas :3 <3

Word count: 2.1k

Relationship: The Captivating Princess/Original FL Character

Rating: teen

Tags: Gifts, Vague references to kink

Also on ao3

Jamie was exhausted after the week's events- a good kind of exhausted of course, the one that only comes after many nights of parading around with delightful people and intriguing conversation. A type of tiredness that, while thrilling and exhilarating, would lead them to hiding away in their room for many days after. Preferably with a cup of tea and some lovely strawberry biscuits. The curtain had fallen after the performance, and it was time to recover before the next.

Jamie had not gone directly home after the end of the last party; in fact they were not entirely sure when they had fallen asleep to begin with, but they had at least returned to awareness in their own bed, so one must assume that they had gotten home relatively safely. It was not the first time they've woken up somewhere without knowing how they got there, and they were sure it wouldn't be the last. Perhaps they ought to drink a touch less at parties, but where would be the fun in that?

It seemed to be well into the middle of the night when Jamie woke, as they blinked blearily at a clock on the wall after they padded out of bed. They would be the only one in the house at this hour, a grand shame of having no opportunity to incline Edith for a mid night snack, the hours stretched between now and when she would be arriving in the morning. Jamie pouted at the clock, as if the lack of snack opportunities was its fault somehow.

The most logical action, of course, would be to return back to bed, but Jamie had only found themself getting up in the first place due to some lingering antsy energy. They didn't think anymore sleep would be found for the moment.

That is how Jamie finds themself throwing on a wrapper, and padding on over to their office on the other end of the hall. Perhaps there was some work to be done, some writing inspiration sourced from the chattering and delights the prior week had given! The flutter of romance in the air always left inspiration for a good novel penning - and often for tragedy as well.

Despite that in mind, instead of settling down with their typewriter, Jamie's motion paused when they sighted the pile of mail waiting on their desk.

Ah, right. That. Jamie had been….postponing responding to letters - there had just been many! And they had activities to attend! One cannot be blamed for remaining on stage when the crowd cheers for an encore!

Jamie felt a little regret at leaving it for so long, now that they were faced with a pile to sort through. They could leave it a little longer couldn't they? Ah, but then they'd have even more to deal with wouldn't they….

With a deep sigh, Jamie sits down at their desk, flicks on their lamp, and pulls the first pile of mail towards themself.

They flick aimlessly through their mail - fan letters for their work kept aside for later rereading, a heckling letter laughed at, then crumbled into a wad and tossed away. An invitation to some boring get-together, pass. A missive here or there from a friend, put into a pile to be responded to. Another party invite, this one more compelling. Oh a love letter, how endearing. And amusing. All very, utterly, typical.

It is only when they are about half way through sorting the pile that they notice the box. Sitting ever so innocently behind the pile of mail sat a pristine, ribboned gift box, waiting ever so patiently for their attention.

Odd, it was well past the time for feast gifts, and Jamie had been sure to at least pay mind and open all of those. That was half the reason they hadn’t had time to get to the rest of the mail. Had they missed one? That didn't seem like them - no, whoever sent it must have clearly thought themself above the propriety of the time frame. Jamie huffed, and decidedly turns their focus back to sorting through their mail.

That barely lasts a minute, before their thoughts return back to the question of the box.

Well, technically it was part of the mail too, wasn't it? So it still needed to be opened. And it seemed so much more interesting than another boring letter.

Jamie nods to themself; perfect reasoning, and a good excuse to pause in looking through the mail. They pick up the box - not too heavy at all, but clearly something giving it weight - and walk back into their room to open it, lest they feel guilty ignoring the pile of mail they had set to complete.

Sitting atop their bed, Jamie pries off the ribbon tying it together, a delightfully silky texture in and of itself. Their eyes are drawn to the contents of the box as they remove the lid, noting first a flower gracefully laid on top of a cushion, next to what appeared to be a necklace.

Jamie reaches automatically to gently pull out the flower to examine it - but is met with a sharp, sudden jab of pain.

Jamie pulls their hand back with a gasp, watching as the blood flows from the scratch in a rivulet down their finger. With a distant artistic view they can't help but note it matches ever so well with the colour of the rose.

They mutter under their breath to themself as they put the box down; Of course it has thorns. Why didn't they check for that? That's the first thing you look for with a rose. Jamie sighs as they pull a cloth from their beside table to apply pressure on the wound, red soaking through the fabric almost immediately. That will be a trial of a stain to get out, though this household knows all too well the process of removing red stains at least. Jamie can admit they have a…habit of spills, so to speak.

When the scratch finally deigns it time to stop bleeding, Jamie returns their attention to the box, already put off from whatever this so-called gift is. Carefully, avoiding any thorns this time, they remove the flower from the contents.

The flower is a deep, dark colour. At first glance, Jamie assumes it to be an exile’s rose, something one usually finds throughout the season - Jamie had already received such back during the proper time to be sending gifts.

But it doesn't quite match the ones they have received. Its colour is not the same, the shape of this rose differs. By all accounts, it looks like a regular flower, beautiful and unblemished, but something about it sets them at ill ease. Some sense of familiarity pricks at the back of their mind that they just can't yet place, but makes them nervous, and unsteady.

Jamie quickly decides to put the flower down on the bed beside them, wanting nothing more to do with it. It had already caused enough damage, thank you very much. They give the flower a short glare for the harm it caused, before turning their attention back to the box.

Jamie picks up the necklace very slowly, not putting past it to have secret sharp bits too. They had no intention of any further scratches tonight, and will set to be careful with the matter! Their carefulness is unnecessary in the end, the whole thing seems rather smooth, even the gems that had been encrusted in it being of a rounded shape.

The shape of the object confused them, solid and heavy in their hands. It was a shining, brilliantly polished silver, encrusted with dazzling blue sapphires and diamonds. The inside had been lined with a soft, plushy fabric, perhaps to keep the cold metal at bay.

It was evidently not something cheap to acquire, most certainly custom made, and from just the look of it, would fit perfectly sized around their neck. They squinted at it confusedly, odd for it to have a loop in the front-

Ah.

Yes, they don't know why they didn't realize sooner; it wasn't a necklace at all, it was a collar, with a clear spot that a lead could be attached.

Jamie huffed to themself with a raised eyebrow. My, now that was rather forward, wasn't it? They can't recall the last time they last let someone put such a thing on them; that was an honour that had to be earned, and so few seemed skilled enough to earn it.

At least show your aptitude before sending it in a box right to their doorstep. A performer as talented as themself has very high, exacting standards.

As Jamie looks back down at the box from whence it came, it's only then that they notice the items weren't alone in the box. Underneath where the collar had been laid a small card. A note, perhaps? A sign off? Seems odd to Jamie to have placed it beneath anything - was the time between seeing the items and reading it intentional? Whatever it was, they intended to find out.

The words have Jamie's thoughts stutter all at once, realization hitting them like falling through the ice of a haphazardly frozen lake.

They knew that handwriting.

Knew it all too well.The cream card was embedded with delicate, flowing cursive, made by a perfectly practiced hand.

‘See you soon~’

It had no signature. It didn't need one.

Jamie swallowed heavily at the implications of the note, glancing with trepidation at the items they'd received. They shivered in the dark understanding of where exactly that rose had come from, the distant recollection of pained screams and buzzing whirring in their mind. Farbeit for The Captivating Princess to send any sort of ‘gift’ without a cruel, underlying malicious motive.

Their eyes flicked over to the collar.

Did she-

Was she implying-

Jamie feels a lump in their throat growing, as the all too familiar memory of hands on their neck, throat, back, stumble unbidden into their mind. The thought of delicately strong hands coming their neck, the weight of the collar heavy on their throat, clasp clicking shut and out of their reach-

Their face flushes heavily at the thought of what exactly she intended with this, given the context of their past encounters.

No, no. Surely not. This was a threat, a power play, nothing more. They were sure of it. Whatever her intentions were, Jamie was having none of it. Just another one of her irritating little games, their own overactive imagination was surely getting the better of them.

Still… What to make of this? They most certainly don’t want it- well, perhaps if the gift had truly come from a different source, they may have… considered entertaining the concepts. But not from her, never from her. Not if they had anything to say about it.

They should toss it in the stolen river, throw it somewhere no one would ever find it, or maybe just pluck out all the diamonds and trade them for the cost. That would certainly be far more considerate then whatever the aim was here, and a good comeuppance for the cruel joke.

Jamie ponders over countless thoughts of how they could be rid of it, before their thoughts drift to how she might react should she find out her so-called gift was disposed of.

Was she expecting them to keep it? Did she have… intentions? They certainly didn't want to give into her domineering behaviour, but to needlessly anger her with no benefit to themself…

The phantom pain of recently healed scratches burn on their back.

In a rush, Jamie is shoving both the collar and the flower back into the box, and slams the lid back on. They ponder only for a second, before walking over to their wardrobe, opening the doors and shoving the box far into the very back, behind lesser worn shoes and other miscellaneous boxes of items. Hidden, at least from view if not from mind.

They slam the doors of the wardrobe shut, and tamp down forcibly on the rest of their wandering mind. This doesn't bother them - it doesn't, not at all! They will simply pretend the box doesn't exist, and no ‘gift’ was ever opened.

It can rot at the back of their wardrobe; but still there, just in case.

Jamie does their best to shove the whole concept of the box out of their mind as they return to their office, and back to their mail. The actually important matters, things that actually serve a purpose. They can focus all their energy on that, and not on some foolish power play they most certainly don't care about.

At least, they can tell themself they don’t care about it, to the best of their capability. Whether that was actually true or not was their own business.

#this was a quick little write up lol #hehe #my writing #jamie and the princess #oc: jamie #the captivating princess #fic

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tuninghearts · 6 months ago

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Hangover greets him with an uncontrollable migraine. He leaves his room, only to find Lucifer on the floor, and decides to take care of them both before they leave for their usual hotelier duties.

Radioapple Week - Day 5

Prompt: Domestic/Demon

Morning strikes him with a gold blade.

He finds himself on his bed, sprawled out like an unkempt blanket—legs tipped over the bed and draping down the sides like bunched up curtains, frizzy hair lightly grazing the pillow, one out of many that were scattered across the room. His suit was wrecked with wrinkles and dried alcohol. Throbbing was felt in his head,radio dials flickering in his eyes.

The hangover caused him to get tangled in a thousand problems, ranging from his uncontrollable state to his arms and legs, chained with tiredness and an aching desire to lull back into slumber. However, the day is pulling him awake, for he knows that he has a hotel to run, and delaying what he needs to do is not punctual.

He forces himself upright, wishing he hadn’t spent such a long night with Lucifer, drinking alcohol as if they would never live to see tomorrow, but deep down he knew that he’d do it again, on another night, to drink to their heart’s desires and suffer the consequences tomorrow.

Green aura protruded from him, he knew that he needed to find some water, for the after-effects were starting to tug him until he would snap. He walked out of the room, but was met with what he never could expect.

Lucifer, passed out on the floor—he would’ve mistaken him for lifeless if he didn’t see his chest rising and falling in almost untraceable motions. With his clothes as messy as Alastor’s, he knew that he must have had too much to drink as well. With whatever strength he could gather, he picks Lucifer up and puts him in his bed, and that’s when an eye cracks open, one of the signs of life.

“Alastor?” Lucifer asks. “What are you doing? And why—”

“Hush,” Alastor spits at him. It’s clear to him that he couldn’t stay longer near Lucifer unless what happened the day after their first drinking session would occur again, and he could not bear to have that heartache, not when he is in the wrong mindset, not when he is fighting to keep himself together and not fall apart in a grand spectacle of unseen chaos.

“Jeez, you’re always so irritated after a drink,” he groaned, as he was thrown onto the bed.

“I’m getting water, wait here,” he instructed, before he twists the doorknob, freezing cold underneath his fingertips.

Lucifer grumbles a little bit, but Alastor doesn't pay any attention to them as the door closes behind him, as he melts into a black shadow and makes his way to the lobby.

“Alastor,” Charlie smiles when Alastor appears from the murky mess of his shadow. “Husk went out to get more alcohol, could you help clean up the bar while he’s gone? It would be really nice of you to do so.”

“What happened to Niffty?” Alastor asks, as his eye was infested with itchiness and blurriness. A finger was placed on his eyelid, rubbing quite harshly.

“Are… you okay? You sound and look dead, and demonic.”

“Yeah, I had a little too much to drink, that’s all.”

“Oh, then I shouldn’t be telling you to clean up. You should rest.”

“No, no, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I need a sip of water.” Alastor chuckles, before he moves to the back of the bar. For being an area in the hotel that serves alcohol, there was some water stored in the back, in an untouched metal jug. He pulls out two glasses and pours water into them, slightly shaking, for his hands were too weak to handle such a weight that the water in the kettle posed to him.

“Why are you taking two glasses?” Charlie asks, as she approaches the bar.

“Oh,” Alastor stumbles on his words. Typically, he’d be wonderful at deceiving people into walking on the wrong path, but in his current state, sentences tie together into a knot, and he can’t seem to ever be able to dismantle them. Radio static was firing everywhere, distorting his voice more than it should, the radio dials in his eyes flickering in all directions. “In case I need another glass and don't want to come back down to get one,” he smiles, crooked with terrible embarrassment.

Charlie glares at him, trying to find the truth, before she shrugs it off. “Okay. Tell my dad I want to see him while you’re heading back to your room.”

Alastor nods, before he melts again into a black shadow to transport himself back to his room.

Lucifer shouts and pushes himself back when Alastor appears in front of the bed, knocking his head into the headrest. It was hilarious to him, seeing that the Big Boss of Hell could get so easily startled by a regular sinner, someone who was below him.

“Don’t get so shocked. It’s me, and you’re in my room,” Alastor chuckles, as he gives him one of the glasses. When their fingers just touch, he feels shocks sent up his body, but he tries not to shiver. It’s firing his nerves in the most delightful way possible. “Careful, you might spill it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucifer brushes him off, as he takes a sip. When Alastor does so too, the green aura dissipates into the air, and his pupils went back to their normal appearance. In a couple of seconds, the entire glass was finished. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something important to take care of.”

“What is so important that you have to leave me?” Lucifer says. He must have not intended it to leave from the corner of his brain, as his eyes widened, before they shut in what Alastor assumed to be dismay. “Actually, you know what, you can leave.”

“Charlie wants to see you.”

“What?” Lucifer sighs, before his back becomes limp on the bed. He gives him a soft smile, one that’s akin to petals dancing in the wind. “Okay, tell her I’ll be downstairs in 5 minutes.”

Alastor nods, as he leaves again, to the lobby, through the fusion with his shadow. When he arrives, the glass is cleaned using a small sink that was beside the bar. The cloth that was left on the table was taken and he rubs it clean before he aligns the glass with the others. A disinfectant was picked from the area below the bar, and was sprayed on the surface before he wiped it slowly.

Lucifer came trotting down the stairs, humming a small melody, which reminded him of stars that he had seen on Earth—twinkling with grace. He greets Charlie before he walks to Alastor, sitting on the stool in front of him.

“This is what you had to take care of?” Lucifer laughs.

“Your daughter ordered me to.” Alastor says, as he finishes wiping the table, and he walks to the side to wash the cloth.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean—” he caught himself before the word fell from his mouth, not letting what happened a few minutes prior to happen again, to let history be left in the past. “Nevermind.”

Though curiosity was taking a hold of him as he wanted to know what was on his mind, he knew that attempting to push it out of him wasn’t going to work and would only make the bond that was forming between them break, and so, he didn’t dare try to do so. “Do you need me to wash that for you?”

“No, no, I can handle it myself,” Lucifer pushed himself from the stool, and walked beside Alastor, where he could almost feel his sleeve brush up against his. As much as he wanted to close the gap between them, he knew that he shouldn’t be too bold, and therefore, he left the sink as quickly as he could.

---

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

#radioapple #appleradio #radioapple week #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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mrhaitch · 3 months ago

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Hello hello Mr. Haitch!

I am seeking advice or perhaps an outside perspective on a certain matter. I've always wanted to pursue a writing career but I'm currently taking education due to my parents' influence. It's not really my cup of tea but I take what I am given.

Should I still pursue a career in writing even though I'll most likely not have professional training or education when it comes to it? I've always had a knack for it but I'm afraid my skill isn't as refined as it should be to make a living out of it (I am into creative writing).

I'm incredibly grateful for you response! I adore both you and Haitch very much!!!

Hey Anon. So sorry for the delay - Tumblr ate my first draft and then life got busy.

I can only give you my perspective here, drawn from my own experiences and the things I've seen and heard from other authors.

By writing career I'm going to assume you're talking about fiction - in which case you need a reliable and stable income. I'm not saying that to be mean, or bitter, or to taint your dreams; the reality for most of us is that writing does not pay, and if it does it does not pay well. As my PHD tutor once said "if writing is the vehicle to a better future, the novel is a fucking jalopy".

It took me ten years to get my first publication. Ten years where I wrote four novels and far more short fiction than I can accurately recall, and I went through the submission gauntlet for all of them. Everything I sent out into the world came back with a form rejection, except on three occasions. For each novel I submitted to maybe 40 or 60 agents, and almost never received a personalised reply (I'm actually friends with one who did, very nice guy). It was ten years of shouting down a well without so much as an echo for my efforts. When I finally did get published (short story), there was no payment.

In fact, at this point in time, writing has earned me nothing.

Agents and publishers work through thousands upon thousands of submissions, and only take a small handful forward. You're in direct competition for the attention of a very select few, against a vast multitude - and to make matters worse you're also up against that agent or publisher's boredom and disaffection after reading reams and reams of dreck. So that first impression has to be stellar, or they won't linger. It's a form rejection and back to the drawing board.

You will be rejected, and rejected often. Definitely more often than you're accepted - it can take years, decades, to get so much as a single, positive reply. Even then it might not lead to publication - it might be them saying how much they liked your work but are unable to place it at present. You have to learn to swallow that rejection every time, without losing heart or your cool, dust yourself off and do it again.

And again.

It's a Sisyphean task where the bolder typically rolls back over you, and gets stuck halfway up just to add insult to injury.

Again - I'm not trying to wreck your dreams, I'm just showing you what's behind the curtain. Everyone is tired and stressed and a little bit disappointed, and there's not enough money for everyone. The love of what you're doing has got to be enough, for now, maybe forever.

So I'm a big fan of writers having full-time jobs and careers. Doesn't matter what it is, so long as you're comfortable and secure. Do not expect the novel to love you back. Its a selfish and evil bastard but you can't help but love it.

#mr.haitch #mrhaitch #mr haitch #mrhaitch answers you too

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starseedfxofficial · 18 days ago

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How the Global Market Environment Influences EURUSD: Little-Known Secrets It’s no secret that the Forex market is affected by global events—we all know that. But what if I told you that most traders completely overlook some of the less obvious factors that can tip the scales of the EURUSD pair? The financial markets are often a dance of predictability, right up until the moment they decide to cha-cha off into the realm of “What in the world just happened?!” Here’s where the little-known secrets come in—those nuanced and often hidden influences that most traders just aren’t paying attention to. It’s time to go backstage and take a peek behind the curtain of the global market, and see how these factors sway the infamous EURUSD currency pair. Global Uncertainty—Not Just Politics, but Pandemics and Popcorn Too When people think about global uncertainty affecting currency pairs like the EURUSD, they immediately think of political events, central bank decisions, or maybe a good ol' trade war. But let’s sprinkle some extra flavor in—did you know that something as seemingly harmless as popcorn can tell you a lot about currency fluctuations? I’m talking about cinema attendance as a proxy for consumer confidence. During periods of financial uncertainty, people tend to cut down on big expenditures but paradoxically might increase spending on small indulgences—like movies. Who knew your Friday night flick could be a barometer for how the euro might move against the dollar? This kind of “small indulgence index”—where people spend more on little luxuries—gives a sneaky peek into consumer behavior and broader economic sentiment. When combined with data on employment rates or inflation figures, these niche indicators can help traders anticipate when the market will be risk-on or risk-off. Oil Prices—When Black Gold Makes the Euro Shine Oil prices and the EURUSD have a complicated relationship—like that on-again, off-again couple you know that keeps breaking up and getting back together. Here’s the scoop: Rising oil prices often hurt the dollar, especially because the U.S. is a large consumer of oil, and it imports more than the EU. Conversely, the euro often benefits when oil prices go up because it strengthens energy-exporting EU economies like Norway. This relationship can be elusive to many traders, but keeping an eye on oil prices can give you a head start on where the EURUSD is headed. And here’s where it gets even juicier: Countries like Germany—a key economic driver for the EU—are highly energy-dependent, meaning any geopolitical tension that affects oil supply will have a direct impact on the euro. For traders, watching OPEC meetings, U.S. shale production reports, and even whispers about new oilfield discoveries can reveal clues about the future movements of the EURUSD. ECB & Fed—The Puppeteers Behind the Curtains Alright, let’s pull back another curtain and talk about the European Central Bank (ECB) and the Federal Reserve (Fed). These two are like that pair of frenemies you just can’t get away from—always trying to one-up each other. Traders often look at interest rate decisions, but what if we told you there are deeper secrets at play? For example, if you want to get ahead of the herd, you should be keeping tabs on ECB press releases and Fed minutes, but also speeches by officials who are often seen as “soft hawks” or “doves-in-hawk’s-clothing.” A little-known secret? Pay close attention to statements about balance sheet adjustments, because while interest rate changes make the headlines, it’s the balance sheet moves that quietly push the market. Remember when the Fed started tapering its bond purchases in the aftermath of the 2008 crisis? Most people focused on rates, but it was the shrinking balance sheet that truly spooked the EURUSD market. The “Lag Effect”: Global Data’s Delayed Reaction Next up, let’s get into the “lag effect”—a phenomenon that few Forex traders consider when trading EURUSD. Global economic data often influences currencies not immediately but with a delay, similar to how the effects of a late-night burrito binge are felt the following day (you know what I mean!). This lag effect can often be traced to policy transmission delays, consumer spending inertia, or just plain hesitation on the part of institutional investors. For example, a negative GDP report from Germany might not hit the euro immediately, but a week or two later, when companies start adjusting their earnings forecasts—bam! The EURUSD feels the burn. Understanding this delay can provide a massive trading edge. This is particularly true when dealing with macro-level data, such as quarterly GDP results or large-scale consumer sentiment indexes. The trick is to anticipate when those delayed ripples will hit the currency market, instead of being surprised like a deer in headlights. Divergent Policies—When One Bank Tightens and the Other Loosens Another under-the-radar factor that drives the EURUSD is divergent monetary policy. Everyone and their uncle knows that interest rates matter, but not many pay attention to the subtler actions central banks take to influence their currency. Divergence isn’t just about one bank hiking rates while the other cuts; it’s about the broader monetary ecosystem they create—think liquidity operations, foreign currency swap agreements, or even unofficial interventions. Let me share one little-known secret: When the Fed began raising rates while the ECB was still all-in on stimulus, most traders focused on the rate hike headlines. But seasoned traders were looking at liquidity—the Fed was also reducing U.S. dollar liquidity globally, making it scarcer. This liquidity tightening had a bigger impact on the EURUSD pair than the rate hikes themselves because less dollar liquidity increases the value of the dollar relative to the euro. Sentiment Shifts: The Eurozone Drama & Its Impact Ah, sentiment—it’s like that clingy ex that refuses to leave you alone. Eurozone drama can sway the EURUSD in powerful, unpredictable ways. Political instability in member nations, unexpected election results, or even rumors of a potential “Italexit” (yes, that’s Italy potentially leaving the EU) can throw the euro for a loop. Here’s where the trick lies: most traders move only when headlines appear, but those with ninja tactics are already prepared, watching sentiment metrics like the Eurozone Economic Sentiment Indicator (ESI). For traders in the know, monitoring social media and trending news can help gauge market sentiment before the big moves happen. This is where you can get a leg up on the competition—positioning yourself before sentiment fully swings in either direction. US Treasury Yields—The Wild Card And finally, the EURUSD has an intimate relationship with U.S. Treasury yields. Higher yields make the dollar more attractive, especially in times of global uncertainty. Here’s where it gets interesting: short-term yields can be a bit of a red herring, while long-term yields tell the real story. Traders often overlook the 10-year yield movements in favor of chasing the 2-year, but guess what? It’s the long-term expectations baked into those 10-year yields that tend to set the direction for the EURUSD over a longer period. To get a little more advanced—it’s not just about the yields themselves, but the spread between U.S. and German bund yields. When this spread widens, it signals higher demand for dollar-denominated assets, which in turn can lead to a stronger dollar and a weaker euro. Monitoring these spreads, and understanding why they change, can help you predict the broader trend in EURUSD before it materializes in the spot market. In Conclusion: Put These Secrets to Work So, how do you actually use all of this information to your advantage? The trick lies in staying ahead of the curve by watching niche indicators and keeping an eye on lag effects and hidden relationships. Whether it's following global oil prices, sneaking a peek at Treasury yields, or tapping into the consumer’s popcorn spending habits, it’s all about piecing together the puzzle before others even realize there is a puzzle. That’s what gives you an edge in the complex dance of EURUSD trading. Remember, little-known secrets like these can be the difference between being part of the herd or leading it. So the next time you’re thinking about placing a trade on EURUSD, don’t just look at the obvious. Dig a little deeper, find those hidden patterns, and watch as you outsmart the market—with a grin on your face and, if you like, some popcorn by your side. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

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golbrocklovely · 4 months ago

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People on Twitter are fucking weird. Saying that they wish snc all the worst, because they “do not care about them” is such a fucking lost in touch with reality moment that only chronically online people who have nothing else to do with their lives besides sitting on their phones could say.

I mean ngl I also would love to have more vids from snc, because i love what they’re doing, but ffs they be acting like doing those vids do not take time or sometimes even make them go through jet lag ( when they travel to Europe Or Australia) , therefore forcing them to have more rest when they’re done with filming. Also it’s not fucking like interesting haunted locations with interesting history are behind every corner. So before snc go filming, they still need to find smth new, fresh and interesting, because their fans love to complain about fucking everything. And tbh with the amount of places they’re already been in, it’s probably hard to pick a place that gonna match the level of previous ones.

Like ffs. I know snc work is not that much hard and they basically are living a dream life, but even such work can be exhausting and let’s not forget that behind it all boys can struggle from private life problems that we can not know of and what can be a reason for some filming delays. Like f.e back in the fay when people were as well complaining about lack of vids, Colby has been dealing with his cancer and Sam helping him, staying by his side. What i mean is that you never fucking now what is going on behind the curtains and this fandom acts like they deserve everything the way they wants, act like they own snc and that snc should dance the way they play them and if they do not then they are “broken” and if they are broken then they can throw it away and call them all the ugly names.

my biggest gripe about all of this is that if fans were just complaining about lack of content, that would be fine in my book. i wouldn't care if someone wishes snc were posting more often. i get it. i feel the same. however, i would love to know how they think berating them is gonna make them move faster on the content, but i digress.

the problem is, they say that this ^^ is why they are upset at snc, but then go on to shit on the girls or shit on snc for past mistakes, or bring up some other nonsense that is too far away from this point to really be the same conversation. and this applies to ALL fans, not just twitter fans. if you're upset snc don't post that often or don't interact with us like they used to, that's fine. but taking that anger out on snc or their gfs literally does nothing. and maybe you're upset at snc and their gfs too, on top of this. if that's how you feel, whatever. but don't say your main point is that snc don't post enough when clearly you would rather talk about malia or katelyn. just be honest. say you wanna be a bitch to them and keep it pushing. stop trying to hide your shitty behavior behind a conversation you don't actually care to talk about.

bc at the end of the day, you have to ask yourself "why are snc not posting as often or not interacting with us?" the lack of content this past year, i'll be honest, idk what's happening. snc haven't communicated with us that well, and i think they should do better in that front. but at the same time, i got other things i can pay attention to, so idc that much if snc only post once a month or whatever. clearly this is a transitional period for them, and they are trying to work out the kinks. but the lack of interactions, especially on twitter, are very fucking obvious. snc have laid it out THICK and VERBALLY that twitter effects their mental health, and that's why they have been quiet on there. so the fans on there that continue to be rude but somehow expect snc to comeback with open arms……… make it make sense to me.

i genuinely have to wonder, to the fans that spend every waking day complaining about snc, what do you even like about snc anymore? you don't like the content they do post, you don't like that they don't post more content, you don't like their gfs, you barely tolerate who they are as ppl, you don't like their friends, you don't like the merch… so what do you actually like about them? and i'm talking recently like about them. if you gotta scrub your mind and go back to 2018 to mention a thing you like, i hate to be the bearer of bad news, you don't like snc. and that's okay. it's okay to grow out of something or not like it anymore. but if that's how you genuinely feel, leave. what is the point in sticking around for nostalgia's sake??

bc i can comfortably say that i enjoy snc and the content they make. they annoy me sometimes, sure. but i don't feel the need to complain about really anything. i'm here to support snc and that's it. and if i wasn't enjoying my time, i'd be gone.

#ask #personal #sg ll #cb ll

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a-parody-0f-tnt-news · 1 year ago

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Tobago Weed Warriors Sentenced to "Pot"entially Long Stay in B'dos Prison

In a highly anticipated courtroom drama, Tobago's very own "ganja enthusiasts," Anton James and Krysten Trim, faced the music in the No 2 Supreme Court in Bridgetown on Tuesday. Their audacious attempt to smuggle marijuana worth a whopping $800,000 into Barbados two years ago has earned them a not-so-lavish vacation of 12 years behind bars.

Represented by the legal dream team of senior counsel Andrew Pilgrim and attorneys Latisha Springer and Rashida Edwards, James and Trim found themselves in a sticky situation. They had previously admitted, during a "Continuous Sittings" session no less, that they were caught red-handed with a mind-boggling stash of 193.65 kilograms (or 426.92 pounds) of marijuana within Barbados' territorial waters on that fateful day—February 15, 2021, to be precise.

As the courtroom drama unfolded, it became clear that their hazy ambitions had come crashing down. Justice Randall Worrell, the no-nonsense judge presiding over the case, declared that a 12-year sentence was a fitting starting point for their "highly traffickable" offenses.

However, Justice Worrell had a slight chuckle at the duo's expense. "I considered imposing a fine, but honestly, it seems you guys couldn't even afford to pay attention," he quipped, emphasizing the dire financial straits that had apparently driven them to embark on this green journey. Their legal team couldn't even conjure up a magic trick to make the fines disappear!

With a theatrical flourish, the judge proclaimed that the severity of their crimes left him with no choice but to sentence them to some quality time behind bars. "Considering the exorbitant amount of drugs involved, a 12-year starting point seems more than reasonable," Justice Worrell solemnly announced.

Acknowledging the pair's somewhat impressive efforts in orchestrating this Caribbean drug odyssey, the judge couldn't help but admire the "planning and sophistication" that had gone into their ill-fated mission. James, in particular, received praise for proudly proclaiming himself the "mastermind" behind the whole operation. Talk about ambition!

Nevertheless, the court took pity on Trim and James, who had seemingly thrown in the towel from the get-go. "From day one, they walked into the magistrates' court with their white flags raised high, pleading guilty and hoping for some mercy," Justice Worrell stated, slightly amused by their sudden burst of pragmatism.

To make up for the seemingly endless delays in their legal proceedings, Trim and James received a "full benefit of a discount." The judge graciously granted them full credit for the 828 days they had already spent in remand, acknowledging their undeniable talent for adapting to prison life.

As the sentencing extravaganza reached its climax, the judge announced their final fate. James was sentenced to serve the remaining 1,182 days (yes, someone did the math) in jail, while Trim would have the pleasure of serving 1,002 more days in the cozy confines of a Bajan cell. Talk about an extended vacation!

In a surprising twist, Justice Worrell took pity on their possession and importation charges, giving the duo a slap on the wrist. He convicted, reprimanded, and discharged both men, essentially telling them, "You've been naughty, but we'll let you go this time. Just promise not to bring any more herbal souvenirs next time!"

As the curtains fell on this theatrical courtroom saga, senior state counsel Rudolph Burnett recounted the events that led to their hilarious capture. Coast Guard sailors stumbled upon their vessel, aptly named Swamp

Dog, 3.8 nautical miles off Needham's Point. Ten bags of marijuana later, Trim and James found themselves on a rather unexciting trip to the Coast Guard base and eventually the Oistins Police Station.

While their journey might have gone up in smoke, one thing is clear—these Tobago residents have secured a place in the annals of Caribbean cannabis capers. The moral of the story? Think twice before embarking on a ganja-filled adventure; it's a journey that can turn into an unexpected bumpy ride.

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distraughtmary · 2 years ago

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To Uncreate You. Chapter 6

Dmitry did not expect the influx of the students to hinder his exit, considering that they had been sitting farther from the door than he had been, but they were more experienced in leaving the canteen than him. He stood by the double door, waiting for the surge to pass.

Some gave him a curious look, some giggled at him, and some older students flung insults at him, out of which ‘a red ass’ was the least offensive. It barely bothered Dmitry as the words were not anything he had not heard back at school, although he expected better from supposed 17-19-year-olds. It was impossible that the teachers, who were also waiting for the wave of the students to pass, could not hear the obscenities directed at him, but Dmitry had already chosen to view them as his enemies and anticipated zero help from them. He reflected on what Katya had suggested and smiled sadly. Someone was gay too? Even if there was a person like that, they were indistinguishable from the rest of the mocking crowd and deeper in the closet than Dmitry, willing to feed him to the wolves not to stand out. Dmitry had been the same until a certain point, then he started supporting people in need behind the curtains, which was not ideal but guaranteed mutual safety. Somehow, he doubted that anyone at the magic school could offer him comfort, no matter how delayed. Besides, no one really caught his eye, as far as the boyfriend thing was concerned, except for maybe Egor, but that bridge had been burned. And just as Egor crept into Dmitry’s thoughts, he saw the guy moving towards him, his handsome face full of determination.

‘Can we talk?’ Egor asked in a hushed voice, a futile attempt that only made the remaining students pay more attention to the pair.

‘What, here?’ Dmitry chuckled and shook his head, covertly indicating the semicircle of the people who would be listening to their juicy confrontation.

‘Um, in your room, then?’ Egor suggested with uncertainty palpable in his voice.

‘There’s nothing to talk about anyway,’ Dmitry cut him off and made for the hallway, joining the residual trickle of the students.

‘Here you are, boys,’ Tatyana Vladimirovna appeared out of nowhere, forcing Dmitry to stop. ‘I was supposed to introduce you two to the student body, but the circumstances of your arrival were not perfect, so we shall do it before the dinner. For now, you are free to return to your rooms. The test starts in an hour – I shall fetch you then and direct you to the examination room.’

‘You were the one who cast that spell, and you are still blaming us for tardiness? Is that how the Lyceum works?’ Dmitry interrupted her, still fuming at the earlier scene of humiliation.

‘What spell? I did no such thing. Certainly, your belated arrival is partially the fault of Mr. Letov, but I had to rebuke someone, I hope you understand that, Mr. Angarskiy. I have a reputation to uphold,’ the principal said with an affront in her voice.

‘We were stuck in a loop!’ Dmitry said, agitated. ‘If I hadn’t used a counter-spell, we’d be still stuck there, and the school would be waiting for the breakfast to start.’

Something stirred in Tatyana Vladimirovna’s face for the first time since Dmitry had met her, a stark contrast to her usual impervious countenance. Dmitry thought that if she was acting, her performance was not too shabby.

‘No, it cannot be! This is so preposterous. Mr. Angarskiy, I know that you are angry with me, but creating such unconvincing tales is not the way to be.’

‘But it’s true, Tatyana Vladimirovna,’ Egor came to the rescue. ‘I gave Dmitry a spell I found somewhere in the Internet, and it worked, breaking that loop. Valera… Valeriy can confirm that, too.’

Dmitry appreciated the defence despite their cleft but then caught himself thinking that he did not need anyone to defend him because what had happened was true. The principal was trying to gaslight him, which bode a very unpleasant time down the road. Meanwhile, she coughed and regained her business-like attitude.

‘Well, if we have witnesses, then the school will have to investigate the matter. Perhaps after your tests. If you excuse me…,’ she said and marched towards a door that could be her office, although Dmitry severely doubted that her office should be so close to the canteen. A shortcut, he surmised.

Most of the students had left by the time the whole exchange started and ended, but a couple remained. A literal couple that was eyeing Dmitry with interest. He paid them no mind, only catching a glimpse of the guy’s mess of auburn hair, and trotted to his room, navigating the real hallway with caution. Egor was on his heels, but Dmitry decided to boot him and close the door in front of his nose later. Other students were either in the middle of opening the doors to their rooms, in the middle of the gossip that with absolute certainty involved Dmitry, or in the middle of making out, which made Dmitry threw up in his mouth. No one chided the ‘pairs’ for the lattermost, but if it was a guy kissing another guy, the staff would immediately be on them, Dmitry bitterly thought. Aside from the students, the non-enchanted school was hardly remarkable. The windows were a typical vinyl business, barely indistinguishable from what Dmitry had in his apartment. One window surprisingly had a fortochka, which was open, allowing wisps of frost inside and making Dmitry shiver even in his sweater. He spared a thought for Egor, who was in a T-shirt, but refused to face him.

‘Damn, it’s freezing here, I’ll have to ask my ma to send me some warm clothes,’ Egor commented as if on cue.

Dmitry wondered how Egor’s mother would send anything to a place that was not even shown on the map and whether they would let him go home at all. They had promised. Somehow, he wanted to trust the staff less and less with each startling revelation about the school. At last, he noticed the staircase, which indicated that his room was close, and quickened his pace. Egor was still chasing after him like a dog, which Dmitry would find endearing if not the guy’s potential bigotry. Dmitry considered letting Egor explain himself, but he was apprehensive of what his new acquaintances might say. All the scenarios in his head were damning, and he wanted to focus on the test and other pressing issues. He reached the door, tugged at it, ensuring that it was indeed unlocked, and opened it. Dmitry swiftly entered the room and almost shut the door, but Egor’s arm was protruding from the outside.

‘Dmitry, wait. Please, let’s talk,’ Egor’s disembowelled voice said pleadingly.

Dmitry pondered over the Egor situation and decided that he would probably continue bothering him before the test, after the test, and during the rest of the day, coming to the conclusion that listening to his excuses as soon as possible would be the best idea.

‘Fine, come in,’ Dmitry relented and opened the door, letting Egor in. The guy seemed desperate, forming pity somewhere inside of Dmitry, but he uprooted it. After Egor’s body was fully in the room, Dmitry shut the door behind them.

‘You’ve made quite a scene. Not worrying about them thinking that you’re here to feel me up or something?’ Dmitry remarked with vitriol.

‘No. They don’t know what they are talking about. They don’t even know you or me,’ Egor denied the idea vehemently.

‘You don’t know me, either,’ Dmitry retorted.

‘Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. So you’re gay, huh?’ Egor tried to sound nonchalant, but the awkwardness was going through the roof.

‘Or so you’ve heard. What now? You’re going to regret all those times you helped me because I might want to thank you in a ‘special’ way?’ Dmitry’s acridity was still tangible.

‘N-no,’ Egor went red. ‘I just helped because… I felt like it, and I don’t expect anything back. Really.’

‘Not that I’d give it to you. You aren’t my type.’ It was a lie, but Dmitry did not want Egor to feel any kind of power over him.

‘Okay,’ Egor’s face was vermillion. ‘I just… want you know that you being gay is… it’s totally fine. Nothing will change between us. I still want to be your friend.’

‘How nice of you,’ Dmitry said half-sarcastically. ‘Well, you might be fine with me, but you aren’t fine with trans people, and I’m not sure if I can be your friend on that account.’

‘I don’t…,’ Egor hesitated. ‘Listen, I’m still trying to figure out some stuff, and I’m not against the pronoun stuff, just… I don’t want to talk about it on the cameras. But I’m not a bigot. Please, Dmitry, give me a chance.’

There was so much anguish in Egor’s words that Dmitry could not help but wonder why he was trying so hard to be on his good side. Dmitry did need allies to survive the hell school, and, perhaps, there would be some way to make Egor less of… whatever problem he had with trans people. And he was weak because he wanted Egor close to him to admire his musculature through his T-shirt that barely left anything to his imagination, to furtively gaze into his eyes, to steal glances at the curve of his neck… Dmitry was not falling for him – there was nothing Egor had done that would make him melt, but he appreciated an eye candy that was not eager to call him words.

‘I guess…,’ Dmitry stalled. ‘We could have a ceasefire for the time being. But one more chauvinist thing coming out of your mouth, and we are done. Is that clear?’

Egor started nodding his head energetically, giving more credit to the puppy accusations.

‘Yes, yes. I’ll be a good boy, I promise,’ there was no flirtation in his desperate words, but Dmitry felt some tingling.’ And… there is something else I want to discuss.’

‘Spit it out, then,’ Dmitry attempted to conceal his curiosity.

‘So, after you’d broken that spell, Valera and I had a… conversation. He asked me where I’d got that spell from, and I was honest about the Telegram thing. But that’s not all. He told me that you are dangerous, that me putting a spell on that metro attendant was something anyone could do, but breaking a spell with another spell is pretty advanced, so either you are hiding something or you are going to be a problem further down. That’s what he said, and that’s why the breakfast was a bit awkward.’

‘Me, dangerous?’ Dmitry smiled at the accusation. ‘I only chanted some spell, and maybe it worked because I was pissed. I can guarantee that it won’t work the second time. And you and Valera could probably beat me to death, so nah. What did you tell him?’

‘I don’t want to beat you to death,’ Egor said seriously. ‘And I told him to shut it and be grateful that you saved us all because his fair-haired ass couldn’t despite being more proficient.’

‘Oh, my hero,’ Dmitry exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, making Egor blush slightly again, but then assumed his regular one. ‘Thanks, though. I wish that fool had said it to me directly. I hate all that behind-you-back stuff, and he’s definitely not going into my friend list anytime soon. Katya is fine, I guess.’

‘Yeah,’ Egor nodded. ‘I like her, too. Shame about Valera, but maybe he’ll come around as she said. We need all the help we can get because this pairing thing… It’s really weird, and I don’t want to take any part in it.’

‘Well, same. Even if you’re straight, it’s still bizarre as fuck. And I’d rather off myself than let them do that to me’

Egor flinched, although it was not clear at which part, and averted his eyes from Dmitry.

‘Please, don’t say this. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to talk about. See you at the examination?’ he said timidly.

‘Yeah,’ Dmitry assented.

Egor left the room, carefully closing the door behind him, and Dmitry lied on the bed. It was less comfortable than his own, but he could not be a chooser. As he was lying on the bed, his hands nestled behind his head, he was thinking of what Egor had told him. He was doubtful of any potential danger he possessed, but then he remembered his first magic, which the lyceum’s representatives called ‘highly unusual’ and the principal’s increased interest in him, which had not stopped her from making a dupe out of him. He reckoned he was probably powerful, just not in ‘protecting oneself’ thing. He needed some answers, and something was telling him that the enigmatic Alla could be of help, or the test would be able to identify his nature. Then Dmitry’s thoughts shifted to Egor’s hasty exit. Was he offended by Dmitry calling him straight? But if he was not, then what was all that ‘I’m okay with it’ drivel about? Was he actually one of those deep in the closet guys Dmitry had derided to himself earlier? It did not make sense to Dmitry, and he decided to drop the subject until further notice. Perhaps he simply did not like Dmitry’s suicidal ideation, not that Dmitry himself was particularly inclined towards it. Still, the idea of having a fake girlfriend, especially someone he did not know and had to be paired with against his will, was nauseating. He knew that gay guys tended to have a girlfriend or two for various reasons, but he had chosen to be deemed a loser to avoid doing harm to himself and a girl. The Ulyana situation could have gone wrong in many ways, but he was glad he had resolved to be honest with her. The uncertainty of the situation was slowly tearing him apart. He had to talk to the principal about everything that had been bothering him, not matter how much he distrusted her.

At last, someone knocked at the door, putting an end to Dmitry’s grim thoughts. He hoisted himself and made for the door. Unsurprisingly, it was Tatyana Vladimirovna, with Egor stiffly loitering behind her. She smiled at him, and Egor also managed a shadow of one. Egor smiled at both of them, the corners of his mouth numb.

‘Let us go, Mr. Angarskiy,’ the principal was curt. She walked towards the stairs, and both Dmitry and Egor followed her. Dmitry decided not to take the rails, fearing Egor’s reaction or lack thereof, so he started ascending the staircase from the centre.

‘Are you alright? Maybe you should take the rails like yesterday,’ Egor whispered with concern.

‘Yes, thank you. I’m not as tired as I was yesterday, so it’s fine,’ Dmitry rebuffed him.

‘Are you sure? You don’t have put on an act for me,’ Egor persisted.

‘I’m not… physically challenged in any way. It’s just that my legs have the tendency to get tired quickly when I move for a long time, and that was the case since my childhood, so I’m used to it. Don’t make another scene, okay?’

‘Okay. Was simply trying to help,’ Egor muttered and accelerated his speed, leaving Dmitry behind.

‘Are the students having classes?’ Dmitry asked the principal, having noticed the quiet ambiance.

‘Not exactly,’ she said austerely. ‘All the teachers are in the examination room, awaiting you. They will collectively assess your abilities, and one teacher is supposed to become your tutor. Sometimes two, depending on how many unique talents you possess.’

‘Where are all the students, then?’ Dmitry spoke out of line, not entirely ashamed of himself.

‘One of our guards took them to watch a film. It will keep them preoccupied while we perform the testing procedure,’ Tatyana Vladimirovna appeared displeased by Dmitry’s curiosity but chose to satisfy it.

They passed by two more floors, Egor, who had no idea where to stop, in the lead. Eventually they halted at the hallway opening into the fifth floor, as there were no more stairs beyond that point, and the principal beckoned them to follow her. The floor looked the same as the second one where Dmitry’s room and the canteen were, but the windows were more decorated, and the walls were adorned with various stands with photos of the people who were in some way important to the lyceum. One of them had a younger version of the principal, and happier, too. Egor also acquired an interest in the stands, but the principal noticed their excitement and told them to focus on the exam ‘preparation’.

‘Here we are,’ Tatyana Vladimirovna said once they approached the last door in the hallway, which was unremarkable, at least to Dmitry’s untrained eye. ‘This is what we are going to do. I shall enter first and let the staff know we have arrived. Then Mr. Ostrovsky will be invited as we are more or less certain about his talent, so the test will not take long. You are to enter once Mr. Ostrovsky is finished, Mr. Angarskiy. Considering the mystery of your awakening, we might require a significant amount of your time, but I am sure that you are also invested in learning as much as possible about your abilities. Mr. Ostrovsky, you are free to leave after your examination and remain in your room until lunch. Well, then.’

She opened the door and closed it behind her. Dmitry drew closer to the door to eavesdrop, but everything was silent – the room was likely to be enchanted.

‘What was your first magic?’ Egor asked passionately. ‘It must be something truly amazing, why are you hiding this? Those idiots will leave you alone if everybody knows.’

‘I’ll tell you… someday,’ Dmitry gave him a shaky word. ‘And I don’t want everybody to know. Just you… and other adult students at worst.’

‘It’s a promise then,’ Egor winked. ‘Now let’s get this test thing over with.’

They waited for about 10 minutes, then a pretty woman in a nurse outfit half-opened the door and told Egor to come in. He disappeared, leaving Dmitry alone in the hollow hallway. Dmitry reached into his pants pocket for the smartphone and then belatedly remembered that it was still on the table in his room.

‘Shit,’ Dmitry grunted and attached himself to the wall, defeated. He could not even think of anything new to analyse and instead hummed Kudo Shizuka’s ‘Again’ under his nose, trying not to butcher the pronunciation. Once he reached the final ‘I will love you once again’ part for the fourth time, the door opened, and slightly flustered Egor emerged.

‘What did you say?’ he said mischievously, clearly having heard the words.

‘It’s nothing, just a song,’ Dmitry lowered his gaze enough to see his shoes.

‘You have a nice voice,’ Egor said with approval, making Dmitry flush excessively. ‘What language was that before the “love you” line?’

‘Japanese.’

‘Wow, you know Japanese, that’s cool.’

‘I don’t really know it, could never learn the damn kana, but I picked some up from songs and stuff,’ Dmitry explained, still scarlet.

‘It’s fine, I don’t know a lick of it,’ Egor admitted his ignorance proudly. ‘Anyway, I must warn you: the nurse is going to touch your dick, so be ready. At first there’s a short medical check-up, and only after that they will start talking the magic business.’

‘Ew,’ Dmitry made a disgusted face. ‘So, what’s your magic?’

‘Not gonna tell you until you tell me yours,’ Egor said playfully. ‘I’ll wait for you here.’

‘You don’t have to, go to your room, have fun,’ Dmitry made a dismissive gesture.

‘It’s fun enough with you,’ Egor said and momentarily closed his mouth with his hand. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong.’

‘Ugh,’ Dmitry groaned, the redness refusing to leave his face.

‘Mr. Angarskiy, please, come in,’ the nurse reappeared and motioned his to go inside. He entered the room, discerning tall room partitions in front of him. There was also a desk with a chair that nurse came to occupy and another chair near them.

‘Please, sit,’ the nurse ordered in a soft voice.

Dmitry did so and noticed that there was another door in the middle of the partitions, apparently leading to the part of the room where his magic test would happen.

‘Do you have any chronic diseases?’ the nurse asked him.

‘I don’t think so,’ Dmitry answered, shifting his legs to the right.

‘How did you get the exemption from the army, then?’ her voice was slightly judgemental.

‘I spent two months at the asylum, and they diagnosed me with a mental illness. I’m also a pacifist, but they didn’t let me use that card after stuffing me there,’ Dmitry replied with an even voice.

‘I see. Well, all mages are exempt from the common military service regardless, and it would be a good idea for you to visit a psychiatrist and get that diagnosis wiped off from your record because it will create some difficulties for you in the future,’ she chattered. ‘Now, take off your clothes, and I’ll take a look at your throat and listen to how well those lungs work.’

Dmitry removed his sweater and undershirt, leaving them on the back of the chair. The nurse inserted a tongue depressor into his mouth, telling him to say ‘Ah” beforehand. Then it was the stethoscope’s turn, which she applied to his chest and then to his back. While doing her examination, she managed to scribble everything down, and Dmitry wondered whether anyone would ever be able to decipher her writing.

‘Remove your pants and stand on the scales next to the height measuring tool, will you?’ the nurse commanded.

Dmitry stood on the scales, avoiding looking at the numbers. He had not weighted himself for a long time, although he was satisfied with his body. It was his lack of muscles that bothered him, but he did not have the willpower to do anything about the issue.

‘178 centimetres, 69 kilograms. I see,’ the nurse noted down the measurements. Dmitry did not know if it was a good result, and the nurse remained neutral and unreadable.

‘Now, take off your underwear,’ she said in a matter-of-fact voice, startling Dmitry. Egor had warned him about that part of the examination yet Dmitry was still extremely conscious.

‘The sooner you do this, the sooner you get to show off your magic,’ the nurse nudged him. Dmitry sighed and lowered his black briefs, making them fall to his feet.

The nurse put on a pair of rubber gloves and groped his genitalia, making him queasy. She fingered his testicles and made his foreskin slip off and on. Seemingly content with the result, she let go of them and look into Dmitry’s eyes.

‘Could you make it erect, please? I have the necessary devices for that, but our policy is to allow patients some agency in the matter.’

‘Fine,’ Dmitry said, exhausted by whole affair and definitely intimated by the mythical devices. He reflected on the last boys’ love doujinshi he had read that was so enticing that he had continued reading it even after the main deed had been done and saved it in his bookmarks. Suddenly, Egor appeared in his thoughts, and Dmitry imagined him naked, imagined kissing him and…

‘Alright, that will do,’ the nurse rudely interrupted his daydream and was on his dick again with her gloves and some measuring tape. After jotting down more incriminating information, she told him to turn around.

‘What?’ Dmitry gulped.

‘Turn around. Prostate exam,’ the nurse barked.

Despite her relative youth, she was not that different from her older counterparts, Dmitry thought. Still, he turned around, fearing whatever the prostate exam would entail because he had never had one in his life.

‘It’s going to hurt so bear with it,’ she gave him a warning and stuffed her gloved hand into his derriere.

He gasped and almost moaned with pain, but the nurse only took a couple of moments and retracted her hand.

‘That will be all,’ she smiled for the first time as Dmitry turned around and started adjusting his underwear.

‘Want me to help you take care of that?’ she said flirtatiously, pointing at his erection.

‘No, thank you,’ Dmitry rebuked her advances and covered his betraying member with the briefs that did a poor job of concealing it.

‘Suit yourself. You’re quite a catch, I must say. What don’t we have some fun after this test thing is over?’ she said seductively.

‘Not interested,’ Dmitry said sharply, uncomfortable with there the examination was going.

‘Pansy,’ she yawned. ‘But I should’ve guessed by how they asked me to do the prostate exam. They never ask me to do it for male students, and here you are. I don’t know what Tatyana is planning, honestly.’

Dmitry did not know what the principal was planning either, and the fact that he was the first student with such a dubious honour made him shudder. He tried to put on his clothes as quickly as possible, and while he was struggling with his sweater, the principal entered their part of the room.

‘I trust everything is alright, Evgeniya Maksimovna?’ she asked the nurse, her eyes on Dmitry’s ungainly figure.

‘Yes, Tatyana Vladimirovna. The boy is healthy and fit for the examination. And for other tasks, I suppose,’ the nurse reported.

‘Splendid. Let us begin, then, Mr. Angarskiy,’ she signalled Dmitry to follow her. He at length managed to slide into the right holes in his sweater and was sufficiently dressed. They proceeded through the door in the partitions and stepped into the bigger part of room, which was reminiscent of a ballroom. A grandiose chandelier lit the room along with a stained glass window. At the foot of the window stood two rows of benches, occupied by the staff Dmitry had already seen at the table. Some of them were of the venerable age, the majority were middle-aged, and he spotted around 4 youngish faces. Their eyes were on him, and his discomfort only grew. The principal left his side and took a seat next to the aged gentleman who had been sitting opposite her in the canteen. The same man told him to take the chair in the centre of the room. Dmitry complied, his hands slightly shacking.

‘Dmitry Alexandrovich?’ the man asked as if Dmitry could trick him into thinking he was someone else.

‘Yes,’ Dmitry answered in a docile manner.

‘My name is Eduard Konstantinovich. I am the vice-principal of the Constellation Lyceum and assist Tatyana Vladimirovna in educational matters,’ he began in a hoarse voice. ‘We have all gathered here to evaluate your magical abilities and select the best pedagogue to guide you through this thorny path. We shall not ask you to do anything outrageous or outside of your present abilities. Conversely, we would ask you to perform all that will be asked of you to make the process as efficient as possible. Are we on the same page, Dmitry Alexandrovich?’

‘Yes, Eduard Konstantinovich,’ Dmitry saw no reasons to argue.

‘Marvellous. I shall start by asking you some questions about your first magic. A quite astounding case, if I have ever witnessed one. Is that true that you willed a person into existence?’ the man asked with genuine curiosity.

‘That is not exactly what happened, Eduard Konstantinovich, and I have already explained the details in my e-mails to the lyceum. I wanted to change my appearance, not to create a person,’ Dmitry answered with shabbily buried irritation.

‘Yes, yes, but we still cannot unravel the mechanism behind your magic. What exactly did you wish for?’

‘I wanted to have a fitter body and less freckles. That’s all,’ Dmitry repeated what he already said hundreds of times.

‘But instead of altering your own body, you manifested a similar body to yourself that had all the features that you had wished for, correct?’

‘Yes. But, once again, I did not want to create another person. It was an accident, I swear,’ Dmitry was tired of making excuses for himself.

‘We know, Dmitry. It does not change the fact that it was a wondrous feat that, I have to admit, none of us here can perform. Your fellow student Valeriy is able to conjure some minor objects out of nowhere, but a person? That is, perhaps, the most advanced form of magic as we know it,’ Eduard Konstantinovich said appraisingly, but Dmitry just waited for him to finish the vexing discussion. ‘Furthermore, you did not simply create that person. You made him a natural part of our world. With appropriate documents and all. If not for our powerful magic detectors, no one would have noticed the change in the canvas of the universe.’

‘I suppose I’m responsible for the universe part. When he appeared in front of me, I panicked, I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t want him gone, either. However, I was afraid of the repercussions following that stunt, so I wished for people to view him as my twin brother. And it worked. He had his documents, his room, and he was present in my grandparents’ memories. But not mine. I knew the truth about him, but as far as everyone else was concerned, he was born on the same day as me and has lived a proper life.’

‘Fascinating, simply fascinating,’ the vice-principal kept nodding his head excitedly. ‘And how did you handle the fact that he may have some memories with you that you do not share?’

‘I told him the truth,’ Dmitry shrugged his shoulders. ‘He probably had some kind of existential crisis because of that, but he recovered rather quickly and thanked me for giving him a life. Maybe he just pretended to go along, I don’t know. He still brings up some things that we supposedly did together, so I just smile and go along with it, too.’

The teachers were whispering among one another, agitated by what Dmitry had said. ‘A breakthrough,’ he heard someone say. ‘We need a demonstration right this moment,’ another teacher’s amazed voice reached him. To Dmitry’s surprise, the principal’s reaction was subdued, the only person who remained still. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she was aware of everything, although Dmitry had not shared the last bit of information with anyone previously. Eduard Konstantinovich said something to her, but she regarded the man coldly and gave him a short answer.

‘Well, Dmitry,’ the vice-principal coughed and made everyone silent. ‘What you claim is ground-breaking in theory, but magic requires a presentation. Would you be so kind to create another person for us as your test task?’

#writing #writeblr #amwriting #m/m romance #m/m fiction #queer #to uncreate you

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jiskblr · 7 years ago

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#16: Magic

Worldbuilding prompts (OK, this one I had pre-written)

Schools of magic teach the basic concepts and how you think about your basic sensory impressions differently; this means that they have different base concepts that they use as building blocks to build their spells, and so there really are schools of magic like martial arts schools in Wuxia. Spells written to be generalizable and used by just about anybody are formulated in the language of mathematics, mostly limited to algrebra, trig, things that in theory everyone can learn well enough. Some things are not mathematics but they're still used pretty widely because everyone's impression of them is basically the same. But the more complicated you are going to get, the less likely the concepts you're using are going to be understood the same way in everyone's head, and so the more complicated the basis of the spell the more specific it has to be. So it's easier to come up with a very complicated spell which doesn't have that many anchors if their concepts make sense to you in specific particular ways. If someone else took the nearest neighbors to the concepts you used, and tried to reformulate the spell themselves, it wouldn't work at all. Ritualists do slow, focused magic and pay careful attention to their senses to create anchors. Sorcerers do fast messy magic, battle magic, and use sharp, obvious sensory impressions, usually pain, as the anchors. Archmages do complex, intricate, godlike magic because they found an archmage hack and have attention or easy anchors in massive supply. Formula spells are based on mathematical language because it is universal. It is very difficult to make complex effects with formula spells. Tradition spells are based on a particular conceptual framework, handed down through schools of magic teaching their students to think in a particular way. This is also called "monastic" magic, since most schools are in seclusion to keep their secrets and protect themselves from governments or rivals invading them while they are unprepared. Personal spells are based on idiosyncratic manners of thought for a particular mage and are extremely difficult or impossible to teach to anyone else. They can be correspondingly more complex, by being built on complex ideas that seem intuitive to the mage. Ritualist formula magic is called "industrial" or "rote" magic, because it's the simple and repeatable frequently used for factories and similar. Ritualist tradition magic is called "craftsman" or "academic" magic, because it's learned like an academic subject and used for a wide variety of specialist tasks, much like a skilled trade. Sorcerer formula magic is called "brute" magic, because it's a blunt instrument but very powerful. Armies and riot police use brutes; gangs and similar frequently try, but without getting training in safety and focus brutes have a short life expectancy. Gang wars that escalate to recruiting brutes get the big guns called in to shut them down. Sorcerer tradition magic is called "battle magic", even when it's not directly used for combat. By far the most common use of tradition sorcery is monastically-trained armed forces special ops, sometimes on the battlefield and sometimes covert ops. Personal magic is called personal magic, or whatever style it resembles. There aren't any wide-ranging commonalities, except that most personal magic grows out of academic or battle magic and non-experts usually won't notice the boundaries. Archmagery is archmagery and blurs the lines between ritual and sorcery anyway.

#jisk worldbuilds #anchors #pay no attention to the delay behind the curtain #well technically this is the right day

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wangxianficfinder · 2 years ago

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Royalty AU Compilation

~*~

Emperor/Prince WWX

The Last Concubine by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 13k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor WWX, Concubine LWJ, LWJ Whump, Forced Marriage, Starvation, Non-physical spousal abuse, Fluff and Angst, Doing the Wrong Thing for the Right Reasons, Happy Ending, WWX Takes Care of LWJ)

Ab aaja re mere piya by mastani (T, 3k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor WWX, Consort LWJ, lwj being a pouty baby, also lwj being salty, because lwj doesn't not like to be exposed)

Conquering the Emperor by catbrainedschemes (E, 21k, WangXian, Historical, Imperial China, Emperor!WWX, General!LWJ, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Historically Inaccurate, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Slow Burn, Happy Ending)

catch this manic rhapsody by anatheme (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Emperor WWX, Power Dynamics, AU where the Yiling Patriarch became the First Emperor of the Cultivation World, he calls LWJ his Concubine Lan and baobei, Switch WangXian, Mutual Pining, Immortal WWX)

travelers through the empty gate by stiltonbasket (M, 44k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty, Emperor WWX, Mistaken Identity, Poor LWJ, Bookshop owner LWJ, Intrigue, Court Drama, Forced Marriage, Confused WWX, POV Alternating, Parenthood, Misunderstandings, Empress LWJ, Requited Unrequited Love, Fluff, Humor, Married Life, Angst with a Happy Ending)

❤️all your life you'll dream of this by Attila (T, 22k, WangXian, Prince WWX, Cinderella LWJ, Fairy Tale, Cinderella Fusion, Pining)

Every River to Its Sea by knightcaptain (E, 17k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Emperor WWX, Courtesan LWJ, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Rape Roleplay, Come Swallowing, Blow Jobs, Verbal Humiliation, Historical Inaccuracy, The Sheer Bratulence, Mild Hurt/Comfort)

Silver & Silk Series by farawayanddreaming (M/E, 3k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Emperor WWX, Concubine LWJ, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Bondage, Devotion, No Plot/Plotless, vibes only, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX)

Son of Heaven and Frost General Series by Aki_no_hikari (M/T, 7k, WangXian, Royalty, Historical, Emperor/General, Fade to Black, Romance)

~*~

Emperor/Prince LWJ

pay no attention to what's behind the curtain by glitteringmoonlight (T, 7k, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, Mutual Pining, only the bare bones of a plot, a little bit of outsider pov, Love Confessions, Happy Ending)

True Gold Fears No Fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 60k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty AU, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings)

The Imperial Jewel by Serinah (E, 39k, WangXian, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, Dubious consent, A/B/O, Fucking while pining)

Kingfisher Feathers by anonymous (E, 122k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, A/B/O, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Angst with a happy ending)

The Concubine Mo Chronicles Series by Enigmatree (T, 71k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Prince LWJ, Concubine WWX, Mild Hurt/Comfort)

of all the hands by typefortydeductions (E, 51k, WangXian, Second Prince LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged marriage, Emperor LXC, PTSD, Nightmares, Dual Cultivation, Mental Health Issues, Fluff and Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Top LWJ, Consensual Non-Consent, Bonding, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Politics, Improper Use of the Lan Forehead Ribbon)

The stars in the hazy heaven tremble above you by cicer (G, 64k, WangXian, Fantasy, Cinderella Fusion, Mutual Pining, Background NMJ/LXC, background JC/NHS, Second Prince LWJ)

all rivers flow safely to sea by GenerallyBookish (E, 97k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Royalty, Historical References, Ancient China, Historical Inaccuracy, Oblivious WWX, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Soft WangXian, Idiots in Love, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Strangers to Lovers, Concubine WWX, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Jealous LWJ, Amnesia, Post Mpreg, Fluff)

The early bird gets the worm, the early fox gets the bird. But the dragon wakes the earliest of them all by sekhmetpaws (E, 52k, WIP, WangXian, Foxxian, Dragonji, A/B/O Dynamics, Royalty, Prince LWJ, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, Arranged Marriage, but not really, Mistaken Identity, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ)

Corps-à-corps by defractum (nyargles) (T, 10k, WangXian, Historical, Courtship, Prince LWJ)

A Little Closer Than That by airinshaw (E, 19k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Emperor LWJ, Royalty, Anal Sex, Kissing, Getting Together, Breeding Kink, Knotting, Mistaken Identity)

inevitably, indubitably by friedkiki (T, 24k, WangXian, Royalty, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Curses, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Elements, Prince LWJ, rogue sorcerer WWX)

雙喜臨門: double happiness at your door by besanii (T, 57k, WangXian, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Fox Prince WWX, Dragon Prince LWJ, Immortals, Xianxia, Romance, Developing Relationship, Three Lives Three Worlds AU, Love Confessions, Weddings)

operation prison break (gone wrong) by bosbie (G, 5k, WangXian, Prince LWJ, Royalty, First Meetings, Fluff, Flirting, Pining, Meet-Cute, Established Relationship)

In the Night, Beauty by JessicaMDawn (T, 17k, WangXian, XuanLi, Prince LWJ, King LXC, Diaster Bisexual WWX, Cinderella Fusion)

La Flûte Noire by arakachi (T, 25k, WIP, WangXian, background XuanLi, Cinderella AU, loosely, WWX is the servant/semi-adopted son of the noble Jiang family, Prince LWJ, Royal Lan family)

i want something shiny by xNailedIt (T, 4k, WIP, WangXian, Cinderella Fusion, Male Cinderella, Prince LWJ, WWX is a Little Shit)

the wei to the kingdom (is through the prince's heart) by Bird_of_Dreams (T, 4k, WangXian, Prince LWJ, historical, royal family, Tournaments, Mutual Pining)

Drama Queen by uglychui (T, 2k, WangXian, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Attempt at Humor, Romance, Secret Identity, Pining, Mutual Pining, Marriage Proposal, Drunken Confessions, Misunderstandings, Prince LWJ)

My Kingdom for a Song by flowerofgusu (M, 6k, WangXian, Royalty, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Falling In Love, Mistaken Identity, Wedding Night, Fluff, Prince LWJ)

uneasy lies the head that wears the crown by dangodangomilk (E, 9k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Royalty, Gusu Princes LXC & LWJ, General WWX, Fluff and Angst, Drama & Romance, Falling In Love, War, Bodyguard AU, Protective WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Secret Relationship)

Love in Red and Gold by Kaytla (E, 11k, WIP, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Royalty AU, Humor, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX, Prince LWJ)

The Cultivator and the Peasant by Likea_boss9987 (T, 14k, WIP, WangXian, MXY/WX, Princess and the Pauper AU, Swapping places, Friendship, Romance, Pining, Misunderstandings, A/B/O Dynamics, Jealous LWJ, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Omega MXY)

If You're Still Waiting by Charlie_Lan (E, 36k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Royalty AU, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Emperor LWJ, Emperor LXC, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Hanahaki Disease, Eventual Smut, Separations, Reunions)

all your life you'll dream of this by Attila (T, 22k, WangXian, Fairy Tale, Cinderella Fusion, Pining)

Witchfinder by misbehavingvigilante (E, 86k, WangXian, Prince LWJ, Merlin (TV) Fusion, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Possessive Behavior, Sex Magic, Switching)

The Prince and the Turtle by MountainRain898 (T, 27k, WangXian, Fairy Tale Elements, Prince LWJ, palace servant WWX, Childhood Friends, Getting Together, True Love, First Kiss, Magic, POV Third Person Omniscient)

🧡The Emperor's Portrait by catbrainedschemes (E, 32k, WangXian, Historical, Ancient China, Historically Inaccurate, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, Age Difference, Sexual Tension, Happy Ending, Fluff, Emperor!LWJ, artist!wwx, Misunderstandings, Hand Kink, Strength Kink, Smut, gege kinkl, ots of staring, Dirty Talk, Canon-Typical Bondage)

Three Letters, Six Etiquettes by 2501987 (M, 24k, WangXian, XiCheng, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Angst and Humor, Royalty, Idiots in Love, Eventual Romance, WWX is a Little Shit, LWJ is Whipped, BAMF JYL, Family Feels, Awkward First Time, Loss of Virginity, Bad Sex, Wedding Night, Domestic Fluff)

To Tread Upon Solid Ground by stiltonbasket (G,6k, WangXian, Royalty, Emperor LWJ, Growing Up Together, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, References to Illness(on lxc's part), Eventual Happy Ending, Bodyguard WWX, Fluff and Humor, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX, Confused WWX)

Desiderium by seredemia (E, 20k, WangXian, Royalty, Fantasy, Childhood Friends, LWJ as a prince and WWX as his childhood friend basically, Fluff, Eventual Smut, First Time)

A Heart Made of Jade by makkurokuro93 (E, 67k, wangxian, historical au, ancient China, politics, drama, romance, love triangles, one-sided LXC/WWX, slow burn, angst w/ happy ending, switching, fluff, eventual relationship, Doctor/Apothecary! WWX, Heroic Jianghu Bandits! (and Fugitive Princes!) LWJ and LXC, and Emperor! JGS)

How to propose to the love of your life in one simple step by CloudyInk (G, 6k, WangXian, Royalty, LXC is King, Prince LWJ, General WWX)

~*~

Other

The one where WWX is not LWJ's concubine AU Series by Lookingkindofdumb (Varied, 86k, WIP, WangXian, Non-Cultivator AU, Emperor LXC, Concubine AU, Rumors, Humor, Politics, Extended family chaos)

Flowers in the Palace series by stiltonbasket (T, 19k, Female WangXian, NieLan, Female LXC, Emperor NMJ, Empress LXC, Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Getting together, Harem, Concubine WWX, Consort LWJ)

I'll learn how to defy my fate (for you) by ArbitraryRambunctious (SheepOutTetradecagon) (M, 9k, LXC/WWX, onesided wangxian, royalty, secret relationship)

In the Eye of the Beholder by YumichanHamano (T, 4k, WangXian, Emperor LXC, Royalty, dark LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Impersonation, Crossdressing)

❤️Where the nightingales are singing, and a white moon beams. by Moominmammashandbag (M, 33k, WangXian, XuanLi, Pseudo-History, No power AU, Empires, Discussion Of Murder, aftermath of war, prisoner exchange, Grief/Mourning, LWJ POV, Angst, Emperor JZX, Imperial Advisor LWJ, widower LWJ, JYL is the Empress the world deserves, Happy Ending, POW WWX, Reunions, Fluff, Smut, Dysfunctional Family, Poetry, BAMF LWJ, emotional support goat, poetry as a weapon)

The Faithful Demon of Yiling Series by TriviasFolly (T/M, 92k, WangXian, Prince JC, Royal AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, no cultivation au, Vaguely Historical AU?, War AU, Slow Burn, WWX is a Baddass, Attempted Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, WWX is a Murder Baby, heat, Murder)

A Prince Amongst Peonies by sweethoneypetal (E, 28k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LXC/JGY, historical au, imperial China, drama, romance, slow burn, eventual smut, intrigue, politics, WWX as a fake prince, scholar LWJ, harems, violence, soulmates, pining, suicide, implied/referenced castration, tension of all kinds, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, abuse, manipulation, WIP) Imperial Family Jin Clan; traveler Wei Ying is conscripted by courtier Nie Huaisang to impersonate the deceased Third Prince Mo Xuanyu; scholar Lan Wangji has suspicions…

#wangxian #wangxianficfinder #the untamed #Royalty AU Compilation #Royalty AU Compilation post #compilation post #wangxianficfinder compilation post #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #Wangxian Fic Rec #long post

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somewhat-intelligent · 2 years ago

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Finders, Keepers

Flufftober Day 27 - Reunion

@flufftober

(Read on AO3)

WC: 699

Three months.

It’s been three months since she last saw him. Heard him. Felt him.

Three months that she’s missed him.

But he’s almost here.

Any minute now.

Judy bounces on her toes, pulling the jacket tighter against the chilly 3AM breeze. Don’s jacket. This ridiculous, blinding orange thing.

But it’s his, so she loves it. Like she loves—

The loud hiss and thunk! of the transport Jupiter’s ramp touching down draws her attention.

Any second now.

She bites her lip, bouncing again, and this time it’s not from the cold, and she reminds herself not to look for his old orange space suit.

The first few crewmen amble down the gangway, all looking tired yet happy to be on solid ground. But Judy doesn’t pay them much mind. She sees them long enough to know they aren’t Don, then they no longer exist to her.

Her heart is racing. Faster with each moment that she doesn’t see him. He was supposed to be on this transport, wasn’t he? He was. She’d checked the log multiple times. Had she missed him somehow? Couldn’t be. Her eyes hadn’t left the door. Had he been delayed by something up on the Solidarity? No, they would’ve updated the log if—

She sees it.

Peeking out from behind another group of crewmen exiting the Jupiter. The orange, right-side shoulder of a deep blue Maintenance Officers space suit. And it’s almost silly how the other crew members are moving off to the sides as they head to meet their own waiting parties; like curtains pulled to reveal her prize; a straight-shot view of him.

A straight-shot path to him.

He lifts an arm to shield his vision from the harsh floodlights as he scans across the scattered gathering, and her feet are moving before she realizes it. Quick, determined steps, laser-focused on him.

Don’s gaze finally lands on her, their eyes locking, and he smiles; softly at first. But then she’s running, and his smile is brilliant; bag swinging off his shoulder so he can catch her as she leaps into him, her arms going around his neck, his closing around her waist to lift her off the ground.

His soft laugh vibrates through her as they spin once, and the sound, the feel of it—of him—oh, it’s heaven.

“Hello.” His voice is low. Quiet. Only for her ears.

Even though she’s pressed to him fully, she tries to get closer, arms tightening over his shoulders as if that would let her phase through his stupid, obstructive suit, and she buries her face into his collar, fighting back the prickling in her eyes.

“Hello,” she whispers back.

“Did you miss me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ouch. Some other reason you’re here at—” Judy feels him shift to check his comm. “—three in the morning then?”

“Just happened to be out for a late-night run.”

Don chuckles and lowers her, toes touching the ground again, but he makes no move to let her go, only leans back to look down at her, a grin on his perfect lips.

“Is this my jacket?” he asks, lightly tugging at the fabric near her waist.

Judy shrugs, weaving her fingers at the base of his neck. “You left it on my couch. Finders, keepers.”

“Ah, is that how it works?”

“Mmhmm,” Judy hums cheerfully. “Besides, you’ve got all your fancy Officers’ jackets now; I didn’t think you’d miss this ratty old thing.”

Don studies her for a moment, his grin drifting to a softer expression and Judy’s heart thump-thumps behind her ribs. The same way it had three months ago, when they were wrapped close like this, and he was minutes away from boarding the transport Jupiter.

Would this moment pass as that one had, or...?

“So, Princess.”

Thump-thump.

“If I found something too...” His voice drops, face tilting. “Does that mean I can keep it?”

Judy shivers; another beat in her chest.

“Perhaps,” she whispers. “What have you found?”

His face is so close to hers now, and the last thing she sees before her lids flutter closed is the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin as he breathes, “You...”

Then his lips find hers.

#flufftober2022 #day 27 #day 27 reunion #lost in space #robinwest #don x judy #don west #judy robinson #pamelo:my art

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years ago

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ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

_____________________________________________________________

“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,” Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand. Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!” Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.” Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

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felix-the-cat · 3 years ago

Text

Sunday, October 31, 2021 – 8:12 p.m.

I ask Spirit with a curious heart: what does ‘love has won’ mean?

Love Has Won refers to the fact that we are already in New Earth. There are several beings who are already online and using this New Frequency to create with. It’s like tuning to a different radio station. You need but tweak the knob ever so slightly to the left and you will be tuning into this New Frequency.

Now you are coming in loud and clear. We are here to assure you that the earth allies have won the battle and are now ready to restore the republic in order to shine the beacon of hope around the world. You have been hypnotized by mainstream media but no more. Now you swim in a different stream; one filled with Love and Light.

You can feel your being upgrading as we reach these new fractals of awareness. Begin this evening to see the New World forming around you as the old one is being dismantled. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain as he attempts to portray a false reality outward.

Already millions are seeing the light backstage below the curtain and are poised to view “the final act”. The reality being offered you somehow seems disingenuous, and you want to know what’s behind the curtain?

What is that light?

It is the ever presence of the creator parting the curtains for you to see at long last. Love Has Won means that from a higher perspective this has already occurred. Nothing can stop The Awakening, although some may try.

There are those who have decided to go down with their ship as they lose control. They cling to this old reality not realizing that the old empire has already crumbled. The boom you hear is the dynamite of truth leveling their control.

These things we speak of are coming to pass as you enter the next phase of your development. It is important to be very clear about what you give your focus to. These things desire one last feeding and are desperate to keep people separated and in fear.

This will not occur. The human heart is much larger than they had calculated. They knew this day would come and they are blindly trying to delay its arrival.

It is already here. New Earth is a realty now. Love Has Won and as more and more begin to tune in to this New Energy and play in this dynamic field that has been set up the more the old empire crumbles.

They may question your sanity, but they desire to feel the joy you feel. They desire to be around you as you anchor the Light into Mother Gaia. We have begun to purge this field of the blocks in your consciousness.

Drop the fear and step out into pure bliss and joy. Love what arises. You are watching the crumbling of the 3rd dimensional matrix and it takes “time” to collapse. You are eternal beings ascended into the higher dimensions. You are the first contact ground crew of the New Earth, and you are being led to form this beautiful rose as it unfolds before you.

The curtain opens and light pours out into the room. All the actors take a bow as you witness the greatest story ever told. You have begun the ascension process and are creating a ripple in the very fabric of space/time.

You have reached into the infinite and are bringing back the gifts from the other side. You are showing humanity what has dwelt upon this earth for so long. Mother God is reclaiming her sovereignty one heart at a time. Be patient as this unfolds across the screen of the 3rd dimensional reality because you know that Love has Won means that we are already in unity as we watch the old empire crumble and REAL creativity is set free at long last. We will talk again…

Dedicated to: www.5dfulldisclosure.org

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years ago

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[I am once again giving you an unrelated fanfic. Have some Modern married Xiyao.

Potential CW: poor anger coping skills?, very brief mention of suicidal ideation in internal dialogue. It's an errant thought and he doesn't actually mean it]

Jin Guangyao is upset. What's more upsetting is that he doesn't know why he's upset--this lack of information rankles him more than the feeling. He's used to feeling badly. That's how life is. But without a name, there is nowhere to file it away neatly. It is easier to ignore the sharp sting of a newly noticed cut than this fucking awful malaise that has apparently decided to settle over him with no rhyme or reason like he's some stupid idiot in an artsy French film, slowly choking down filtered cigarettes on some rusty balcony against a sunset or something.

That's not what he does. He is efficient. He is useful. And when he is like this, he is not.

And he still doesn't know why. And the fact that he cannot categorize and escape this has the ennui sliding slowly into a slow boil of tooth grinding fury.

Had it been the morning traffic? The fact that the library had emailed to inform him of a delay on his inter-library loan? The fact that his overpriced coffee was just a tiny bit burnt? The fact that Zixuan had taken a sick day today and so had not brought the soup his wife had promised Jin Guangyao for lunch? It shouldn't be, because these are all so horrifyingly trivial.

He has a tension headache beginning to string itself along his temples. He hates that the receptionist has a perky goodbye ready. He hates that the sun is shining so brightly. Then, he hates that the shadows of the clouds when they pass make things look grungy and dull. He hates that there is a flap of leather from his steering wheel that has peeled up in the back from his picking and he can feel it rubbing against his index finger as he stares, white knuckled and unblinking into the brake lights ahead of him as this bubbling pique crescendos as slowly as one of Xichen's beloved classical music pieces.

In fact, one is playing on the radio, softly, just within hearing range. The quiet, shrill edge of violins makes him want to kill something. Maybe himself. There's a bridge coming up in half a mile. He, very sanely, presses the button on the dash that turns it off instead of doing any of those things. The thought of Xichen has a voice of reason suggesting that he might meditate, while trapped here, 10 minutes from home.

Instead, he jabs a button on his fancy, stupid steering wheel with this thumb. An attentive computer noise beeps. The sudden noise in the relative silence of the car makes him dig his nails into the leather. "Text A-Huan," he snaps.

"Okay! What would you like the message to be?"

Jin Guangyao is going to find whoever programmed this faux-friendly robot voice and make them watch him drown their entire family in a toilet. "I. Hate. Everything."

Beep. "Okay! Your message reads; 'I hate everything'. Send?"

"Yes, send," he seethes before it can fully finish.

There is no plan to this. None at all. He just needs something real to sink his metaphorical teeth into. A reasonable anchor to reality to tell him whether or not he's being stupid and terrible for no reason at all.

Even though he already knows that he is.

The response returns in 43 seconds. Jin Guangyao had been counting. The cheery beep sounds just as the very stale green light turns yellow ahead. He presses the gas. "One message from A-Huan."

The light blinks red while he is only 1/4th of the way through the intersection. The lead car of the adjacent left turners beeps and he bares his teeth at her because he isn't fucking invisible, he's in a high profile gold Lexus and she had definitely seen him fucking coming. He stabs the button that makes the car read him the message.

"'Oh no. Bad day? Want to call? Blue heart emoji'," the female robot voice chirps in a butchery of his husbands words and no, no, he does not, because, at this point, it would simply be a minute long sustained scream of rage over literally nothing at all. He should have kept it to himself and found a quiet place to throw rocks at a wall or something until he wasn't such a repellant time bomb.

He does not reply because if he hears that robot voice again, he's going to commit vehicular homicide. And being arrested would not calm him down.

Finally, traffic parts and he pulls into his driveway--he notices how the bush on the side of the house's branches are creeping up to scrape the window of the kitchen and makes a mental note to send a curt text to the landscaper about his pruning habits. Why are they paying him several hundred dollars a month to let a stupid bush get unruly enough to damage the paint on his window trim?

When he slams his door shut, he hears a loud CLACK that announces that he has just closed his seatbelt in the door and lost the last tenuous thread of his temper. Heaving the door back, he plants his other hand up on the black plastic next to the window and smashes it shut again with all of his strength. Repeatedly. CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK--Chunk.

Breath hissing between his teeth, he jerks his suit jacket straight, loosens his tie and stalks to the house. The garage door groans to life behind him. Xichen had been watching.

Perfect.

He's nowhere to be seen when Jin Guangyao slams through the backdoor like a vicious thundercloud, which is good and probably intentional, because it allows him to wrestle off his shoes, jacket, and tie in privacy. This does nothing to release any pressure, because it must be intentional wrestling--controlled and confined so he doesn't pop off a button or rip a seam or scuff the shining black leather. Now he's seething in their immaculate, state of the art kitchen, hating how the cold tile feels against his black dress socks and the fact that it smells like tea. Which is stupid. Because he likes tea. But not right now.

Stop being a piece of shit, he snarls at himself. You've already probably fucked up the car and Xichen doesn't deserve this. He balls up his fists so tightly that the bright pain from his nails sinking into his palms leaks up his arms. Be better.

He has no idea how to do that because he has no idea what is wrong.

Reason says to steer clear of Xichen until he can get a hold of himself and behave like a fucking adult. And in the early days of their relationship, he would have. He had. Whenever he got like this, he would shut down or not have inflicted himself on Xichen at all with a smooth lie, and no amount of prying would get anything useful out of him because he would not be a bother. There had been Talks. Long, extensive Talks about trust and love and wanting to take care of him. He had even believed some of them. That's how they can be married, now, years later--Xichen knowing just how close he is to this at all times. How thin his veneer of manners and pleasantries actually is. (He can't truly know, though, can he. If he knew how much none of it makes sense, there is no possible way someone as kind and intelligent as him would choose to stay.)

Xichen would purse his lips if he said this out loud; somewhere between exasperation and sad fondness. Jin Guangyao doesn't tell him, anymore. Most of the time because he doesn't actually think this.

This is not most of the time.

Yes, reason says that he should suck it up and become a human being before burdening Xichen.

But his husband has long, cool hands and soft eyes and a brilliant mind that can solve any problem just by holding it and maybe he just wants to be small and angry and ugly and pathetic and selfish in the comfort of his own home while someone reminds him that there have been, in fact, good things that have happened in his life and he had been, at one time, happy--believe it or not.

And if nothing else, it compounds his streak of bad decisions.

The smell of tea intensifies when he reaches their room. The curtains are drawn. It renders the deep, dusty blues of the bed spread and the armchair black and the aged gold accent pieces muted, except for where the warm light pouring from their open bathroom door paints them bright again. Xichen sits on the edge of their bed in the soft, expensive loungewear Jin Guangyao got him for his birthday last year, one ankle on his knee, watching him with eyes just as soft as he had been expecting. A mug of tea is tucked into his hand and a plate with round, lumpy shapes sits by his hip. Beside that lays spread out the absurdly oversized and absurdly soft heather gray shirt that Nie Huaisang had gifted to him as a joke but was, in fact, one of Jin Guangyao's guilty pleasure sleep shirts.

With his perfect voice and his perfect logic and his perfect way of being the only good thing on this entire, worthless planet, his husband says, "I think you need to scream into this pillow."

'This pillow' is, in fact, one of theirs, dark blue with a thread count that was higher than any savings he ever had in college, perched on a bundle of blankets that is the perfect size to throw himself upon like a sulking romance heroine. He hates it. Hates that this is known, that this might help.

So he fucking does it. He deliberately stalks around the bed, climbs up, smashes his face into the pillow and screams as loudly as he can. With every single ounce of rage in his body, curling him up like the shriveling of a raisin in fast forward, like the curling of a scorpion tail, like throwing up, wringing every last scant molecule of oxygen out of his lungs.

When the sound peters out and he has to drag in another breath, he curls tighter, the claws of his hands reaching over the top of the pillow to fist in his hair. It presses the plush of it firmer over his face and bites it until his teeth ring with dull pain, and his jaw aches and his head throbs and his eyes sting. His scalp burns from the pull on his hair and his throat is raw and tight.

Tearing himself away, finally, he gasps in a gulp of cooler air. Xichen has turned so he is now cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching him with a mix of calm and understanding sympathy. "Lay down?"

There is a ragged, hollow hole in him that still has scraps of rage clinging to it like disgusting lichen--but the visceral, all consuming hate seems to have been absorbed by his pillow. So he lets himself roll sideways, eyes closing. Xichen gets off the bed--Jin Guangyao assumes, wearily, that he's putting down the tea mug and hopes that he uses a coaster--and then returns by knee walking up the bed to his side. Then, those cool hands he had been hoping for pick open the tiny hard buttons of his shirt. Each pop releases a a tension across his skin and he feels that he can breathe easier with every one.

Jin Guangyao can hear him breathing, slow and measured, through his nose and thinks that it's probably the most comforting sound that he's ever heard in his entire life--now that he's willing to be comforted. Able to be. The reminder of Xichen's continued existence is the only sound he will ever need to be calm again.

The button up is abandoned in favor of undoing his belt--breath, more of it, infiltrating him deeper and deeper--popping the button on his slacks, tugging them down his legs in a warm slide. The quiet clink of it being tossed somewhere. A closing quiet as Xichen leans in and presses his smooth lips to his forehead. Then the corner of his eyebrow. Then the bridge of his nose. Different points and planes of his face like he is unlocking a combination that will open him up and allow him to purge the rest of the awfulness that lingers.

What it mostly is is exhaustion, now. "A-Huan," he groans--whines. Ugh.

Before disgust at himself can settle in, his husband takes this as the invitation for what it is and kisses his mouth, gentle and slow. Jin Guangyao moves his mouth back, halfheartedly, mostly parting his lips to allow him access to do whatever. But all he does is kiss him chastely. Lovingly. He tastes like green tea. Then, Xichen murmurs against his lips, "Would you like a bath?"

He vents a negating grunt, lolling his head back and forth. Baths are so much work. Even when Xichen offered to wash his hair or read to him or even join him, you still had to keep it hot, you had to endure cold when you left, get yourself dry. Too much change, too much sensation and movement.

He should be shaking himself awake. He should be apologizing for his terrible, pointless mood. He should be trying to kiss him back, love him back, pay him back. Thank him.

Xichen merely lifts his hands and presses the heels of his palms into the hinges at Jin Guangyao's jaw, inexorably grinding the tension out of them. Jin Guangyao allows himself to melt. When those cool fingertips slide into his hair, he lets them tug him upright, so Xichen can slide off his button up and slip him out of his undershirt. He shivers against the chill of the bedroom air, but he doesn't feel a surge of utter hatred for the sensations so, well, that's something. In no time, Xichen has coaxed him into the oversized shirt, removed his socks and bundled him up against the padded headboard, tucked into Xichen's side.

Jin Guangyao allows this. He allows himself to allow the blanket to be tugged up over his bare legs, Xichen to tuck the warm mug of steaming mint tea into his hands, and wind his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath before sighing it all out. Xichen's fingers rub soothing circles across his sore scalp.

"Open?"

He cracks one eye to see a cookie hovering at mouth level. It's too dim in the room to properly tell what kind it is, but because Xichen has been perfect in literally every other way, he simply obeys and bites down. Browned butter and sea salt and semi-sweet chocolate ooze across his tongue and the instant spike of sugar satisfaction warms his chest. Jin Guangyao chews with utter contentment, swallows, and opens his mouth again.

"Good?" Xichen's amused voice vibrates warmly through his chest as he indulgently feeds him another bite.

"Mm. Very. Did you make them?"

"I did, earlier today. I just got lucky with the timing." His nails scrape oh so gently across his scalp. "How are you doing?"

Instead of answering, Jin Guangyao blinks up at him and his sweet, kind, ridiculously gorgeous face that is graced by a light smile and a gold edge light from the bathroom.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Being terrible."

"You're never terrible."

"I was today. I think I fucked up the car."

Xichen chuckles, smile crimping to a knowing press. "I saw. It won't be a big deal. We'll deal with it later."

"...Thank you."

"Of course, A-Yao. Do you still hate everything?"

"Mm-nn." He snuggles down deeper against his ribs, looping an arm around Xichen's warm waist. He has the best husband in his arms, his dark-sweet scent is in his nose, chocolate on his tongue, and 1000 count sheets against his skin.

What is there to hate?

#I was in an exceptionally bad mood #so therefore I projected it onto JGY and made Xichen make it better #because that's what writers DO #There is no plot at all except my own journey of being in a better mood. I am now. But it is also 4:20 am. Oh well. You do what you can.#my stuff #my fic #xiyao #lxc #jgy #text #xiyao fanfic #completely unedited because that's how it goes #it's an errant thought and he doesn't mean it #brief suicide mention

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