#rage against the moons

[jadarnr]

TRINITY BLOOD

RAGE AGAINST THE MOONS

(Storia: Sunao Yoshida // Illustrazioni: Thores Shibamoto)

Vol.1 From the Empire

FLIGHT NIGHT - Prologo

Traduzione italiana di jadarnr dai volumi inglesi editi da Tokyopop.

Sentitevi liberi di condividere, ma fatelo per piacere mantenendo i credits e il link al post originale 🙏

Grazie a @trinitybloodbr per il suo prezioso contributo alla revisione sul testo originale giapponese ✨

La luce della luna brillava attraverso le meravigliose vetrate colorate, facendo sembrare la tempestosa notte invernale ancora più scura.

“Amen! Questo pasto che ho preparato è il mio nutrimento. In questa Santa Notte io dico grazie”. La voce del vecchio, prostrato in segno di reverenza, risuonò dolcemente all’interno della cappella. Sembrava quasi piena di compassione.

Ma gli occhi della suora - le cui braccia e gambe erano legate all’altare e la cui bocca era stata imbavagliata - erano spalancati per la paura.

Forse non sarebbe stata tanto spaventata se si fosse trovata davanti un semplice assassino. Dopotutto, un assassino l’avrebbe solamente uccisa. Un assassino almeno sarebbe stato umano.

“Grazie per la tua pazienza Suor Angelina. Ora è il momento della Sacra Comunione.”

La suora sussultò.

Quando il vecchio si voltò, la luce della luna si riflettè sulla lama argentata stretta nella sua mano rugosa. Aveva usato quella lama innumerevoli volte per tagliare le ostie da dare ai devoti, quando ancora era un mortale. Era una lama sacra. Ma ora essa aveva assunto un sinistro colore marrone ed emanava uno sgradevole odore di ruggine.

“Mangiate questo pane, poiché esso é il mio corpo”

Nel silenzio risuonò il suono della veste della giovane suora che veniva strappata. I seni ancora poco sviluppati e una semplice biancheria intima rimasero esposti.

“Bevete questo vino, poichè esso è il mio sangue… Ah, Angelina! Voi diventerete una parte di me. Dentro di me vivremo insieme in una notte eterna”.

Dalle labbra scolpite in un sorriso malvagio, apparvero zanne troppo lunghe per essere semplici denti. Incapace di tenere a freno la sua sete di sangue, il vecchio puntò la lama sacra contro il petto candido di Angelina, facendo agitare il suo cuore con un unico respiro—

Dall’oscurità si udì un sussurro. “Ita missa est. La messa é finita, Padre Scott”

“Cosa?!”

A lato di un crocefisso congelato che emetteva un bagliore bluastro stava una figura avvolta nell’ombra. Il suo volto, rivolto verso il basso, era nascosto nell’oscurità e non era possibile vederlo, ma era chiaro che si trattava di un uomo piuttosto alto.

“Reverendo Alxander Scott, ex Vescovo di Londinium… nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo la dichiaro in arresto con l’accusa di sette omicidi e furto di sangue.”

“Ma chi saresti tu in nome di Dio?!”

“Mi scusi, non mi sono presentato a dovere. Vengo da Roma—“

Fu un errore accordare al vampiro una qualche cortesia. Istantaneamente, il coltello attraversó la distanza tra i due con una velocità al limite dell’impossibile. La mira era perfetta, e la lama andò a conficcarsi esattamente nel petto dello sconosciuto.

“Ah! Non so chi tu sia ma non ti permetterò di interferire con questo sacro rito!”

Il vecchio vampiro, vestito con l’abito sacerdotale, rise sarcastico con le zanne che scintillavano nell’oscurità, proprio davanti all’altare da dove aveva prestato servizio come Vescovo fino al mese prima.

“A causa della tua ignoranza sarai punito con la morte…”

“Non le sembra terribilmente maleducato interrompere una conversazione in questo modo?”

“Ma cos…” Padre Scott non poteva credere ai suoi occhi. Il coltello si era conficcato a fondo nel cuore dell’uomo nell’ombra, eppure lui rimaneva in piedi come se niente fosse.

“Ho ascoltato uno dei suoi sermoni una volta… Predicava che gli esseri umani fossero le uniche creature capaci di credere in loro stesse. Avrei voluto poterle mostrare compassione, ma…”

“Im…impossibile!” Il vecchio prete, che aveva barattato la sua morale e la luce del sole con la forza e il potere datogli dal male immortale, ora indietreggiò, in preda al panico. “Sei un vampiro anche tu?”

“No. Io sono…”

Questa volta la voce fu interrotta dal suono del metallo in frantumi. La lama sacra che era rimasta conficcata nel petto dell’uomo, emise uno strano suono ed si andò ad affondare tra le vesti dell’ex Vescovo.

Il vampiro gemette. “Ho sentito parlare della tua specie, quando ancora ero umano. Si dice che a Roma, nel quartier generale del Vaticano, ci sia una setta di preti che custodiscono un mostro. E quando il Vaticano ha problemi che vanno oltre le capacità umane, mandano lui a risolvere la situazione. Sei tu quel mostro?”

“AX—per la precisione. Sta per Arcanum Cella ex Dono Dei. Sono del Dipartimento Segreto della Segreteria di Stato Vaticana. Vede, al mio capo non piacciono gli scandali. Non le farebbe per nulla piacere che si spargesse la voce che un prete si sia ‘trasformato’”.

Dal nulla l’uomo avvolto nell’ombra sollevò in aria una enorme falce dalla doppia lama.

Quando Padre Scott vide la falce urlò di terrore. “Maledetto! Sei il cane da guardia di Caterina, il suo boia ufficiale!”

Il suo urlo fu inghiottito da una folata di vento invernale.

[trinitybloodbr]

FROM THE EMPIRE - フロム・ジ・エンパイア – DO IMPÉRIO

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⚠️ ESSA OBRA EM HIPÓTESE ALGUMA É DE MINHA AUTORIA. TRADUÇÃO REALIZADA DE FÃ PARA FÃS. NÃO REPUBLIQUE OU POSTE EM OUTRAS PLATAFORMAS SEM AUTORIZAÇÃO. SE CASO POSSÍVEL, DÊ SUPORTE AOS AUTORES E ARTISTAS COMPRANDO AS OBRAS ORIGINAIS. ⚠️

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FROM THE EMPIRE

フロム・ジ・エンパイア

DO IMPÉRIO

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PRÓLOGO

-- Porque toda a terra será destru��da.

A água se levantará por sobre toda a terra,

 e tudo o que está sobre ela será destruído e desaparecerá.

(Versão etíope do Livro de Enoque 10:2)

Um grupo de mil máscaras, com tochas nas mãos, avançava em marcha.

A praça à beira-mar, que abriga a Basílica e o Palácio do Governador, brilhava como se fosse meio-dia. Por outro lado, as duas luas no céu, pareciam completamente ofuscadas por causa dos fogos de artifício que subiam por todos os lugares.

“...Esses malditos terrans bárbaros!”

Astha cuspiu asperamente. A brisa marítima vinda da laguna levava a agitação da praça até o beco mal iluminado em que ela se encontrava.

 Através dos documentos, ela pensava ter compreendido a visão geral do chamado ‘Carnaval de Veneza', mas a coisa real era ainda mais ridícula do que se imaginava. O senso de sensibilidade dos nervos desses Terrans, que realizavam tal farra descontrolada ao longo de dez dias e noites, estava além da compreensão dela.

"De todas as coisas, encontrar-se em um lugar como este... e além disso, até quando vai me fazer esperar?!" – ela se pronunciou em um tom de voz resignado.

Diferente de sua terra natal, Tsala, onde o pôr do sol marca o início do dia. Aqui um dia começa e termina à meia-noite. Acima, o sino da enorme torre do relógio estava anunciando a chegada de um novo dia.　

No entanto, não havia nenhum sinal de que a pessoa com quem deveria se encontrar aparecesse.

Impaciente, Astha levantou a gola do casaco de couro e tirou os óculos de sol de seu rosto que possuía traços bastantes alinhados.

Talvez, deva continuar perseguindo "ele" sozinho? – Astha pensou consigo mesma.

Disseram que a pessoa esperada era o mais habilidoso daquele grupo. 'Agente Executor' ou algo assim? Talvez parecesse que fosse dessa forma, mas no final das contas seria somente mais um estúpido e fraco Terran. Uma espécie de vida curta. Astha sozinha era muito mais ágil e conhecia “ele” melhor do que ninguém. Nesse caso...

"Não, não posso, não posso." – Astha balançou a cabeça, afastando a doce tentação.

Dentre aqueles fanáticos, finalmente apareceu uma pessoa um pouco mais razoável. Se voltasse agora, poderia irritá-los.

"De qualquer forma, vamos “pegá-lo” rapidamente e se despedir dessa maluca montanha de primatas... hein?" – Astha aguçou os ouvidos ao ouvir vozes vinda de um canal mal iluminado próximo.

Aparentemente, duas ‘fêmeas’ jovens e alguns ‘machos’ que parecem ser gondoleiros estavam envolvidos em algum tipo de problema. Pelo que ela analisou das gírias que os ‘machos’ estavam usando com frequência, parece que eles estavam forçando as jovens a compensar a diferença da tarifa através de relações sexuais.

Não importava onde os Terrans se encontrassem ou acasalassem. Mas seria um problema se fizessem isso aqui por perto. Deveria ordenar que façam isso em outro lugar... Astha estava considerando seriamente quanto a isso.

"Er... desculpe interromper enquanto estão ocupados, mas..." – Uma voz descontraída veio do fundo do beco – Um momento, por favor? Bem, a Praça de São Marcos é por este caminho, não é?"

Era um jovem alto.

Sob o cabelo prateado desgrenhado, os costumeiros óculos redondos, como o fundo de uma garrafa de leite, refletiam o luar de fevereiro. E ele estava vestido com uma batina sacerdotal preta de aparência simples e pobre com uma capa desgastada. A típica aparência de um padre itinerante.

"Bem, Veneza é realmente uma cidade que parece um labirinto, não é? Então, vocês também estão aqui para o festival? É ótimo, não? O carnaval. Bem, na verdade, eu também..."

"Como pode ver, estamos ocupados agora, padre."

Um homem enorme e barbudo avançou lentamente de entre os gondoleiros, enquanto brincava com um remo grosso.

　

“Se estiver a caminho, por que  não pergunta em outro lugar?”

"Ah, mas..." – o padre travou.

“Padre, por favor nos ajude!”

As garotas correram em sua direção e o padre recuou, como se estivesse sendo intimidado. Elas acabaram por se esconderem em suas costas desprotegidas suplicando com os olhos marejados.

"Por favor, nos ajude! Estas pessoas estão nos forçando..."

"Sem essa! A culpa é de vocês por não pagarem!" – gritou um dos gondoleiros.

“Eeeeh..” – o padre recuou ainda mais.

Pelo comportamento assustado das garotas, ele evidentemente percebeu que havia se perdido em um cenário de guerra. O padre, com seus olhos azuis, piscava repetidamente, enquanto dizia:

"Bem, conflitos não são bons. O Senhor disse: 'Não te enfureças'... Uaaah!?"

O padre recuou para evitar o golpe sinistro, arqueando-se. Parecendo uma criatura que falhou na evolução. Ele cambaleou para trás desajeitadamente.　

"Que susto! O...o que foi isso de repente!?"

"Cale a boca! Desapareça de uma vez, padre de merda! Quem disse que quero ouvir seu sermão enganoso!?" – o gondoleiro que o atacou antes gritou.

"En-enganoso? Oh! Senhor, tende piedade da incredulidade dos filhos dos homens... Ce-certo! Senhoritas, fujam agora mesmo... eh?" – o padre comandou, mas logo sentiu que havia algo faltando.

Antes que ele percebesse, as garotas já haviam desaparecido ── seus vestidos coloridos esvoaçaram uma última vez de relance enquanto corriam em direção a praça.

"Ha, haha... não! Está tudo bem! Se eu puder proteger a pureza das donzelas com meu sacrifício. Não é um preço pequeno a se pagar? Não me importo nem um pouco. Sim, não me importo. Haha... eh, hein?”

Alguém cutucou as costas do padre, que estava dando uma risada seca e solitária. Ao se virar, ele viu inúmeros olhares ameaçadores dos gondoleiros encarando a sua cara de idiota.

"Bem... pessoal. Então, vamos nos acalmar. Aah! O Senhor disse: 'Suportem uns aos outros. Perdoem as ofensas um dos outros...'"

"...Matem-no." – os gondoleiros gritaram.

Ao som do vento, gritos de raiva e de dor se misturaram.

"Se... se matarem um padre, serão amaldiçoados, sabiam? Vamos, acalmem-se, respirem fundo juntos... Alguém, me ajude!" – o padre levantava as mãos desorganizadamente enquanto recuava o quanto podia.

(…Sem chance, esse cara...)

Astha soltou um suspiro e levantou-se.

Deixa-lo sozinho seria até aceitável, mas vê-lo cair morto bem na frente dos seus olhos seria desconfortável – além disso, Astha estava começando a ficar irritada com a ausência dessa chamada 'pessoa habilidosa' que estava demorando a aparecer.

“......”

Ela começou a correr silenciosamente e deu um leve salto. Com uma força nas pernas dezenas de vezes maior do que a dos Terrans, ela chutou as paredes à esquerda e à direita para ganhar altura e pousou graciosamente diante dos olhos dos bandidos.

“...!?”

Quando um dos homens barbudos, que estava entre os gondoleiros, percebeu a sombra projetada sobre sí, já havia levado um golpe de reverso do punho no topo da cabeça, que fez seu rosto se prostrar no chão. Embora o golpe tivesse sido suficientemente moderado, poderia ter causado uma rachadura em seu crânio.

“....Eh?”

E então nesse momento, os homens restantes também ficaram todos estáticos, uniformemente, sem se mover.

A razão era porque bem na frente dos olhos deles, iluminada pela suave luz da lua, estava uma mulher incrivelmente bela.

Ela era uma mulher muito alta. Envolvida em um casaco preto que ia até os tornozelos. Sua alta estatura devia ultrapassar facilmente o um metro e oitenta. Seus cabelos era branco ─ exceto por uma mecha na testa, da cor do sangue. Todo o restante estava descolorido até o final em um tom de marfim. No entanto, a beleza sob seus brilhantes olhos cor de âmbar ainda parecia jovem, como se tivesse acabado de sair da adolescência.

“Ah... quem seria você?"

"... Se afaste."

A bela mulher ─ Astha empurrou levemente o padre e virou-se para encarar os bandidos. Quando o grito do padre que caiu no canal e os respingos de água subiram, ela já estava chutando o pavimento de pedra e dando um grande salto...

Alguns segundos depois ─ na rua, cerca de dez homens com os queixos e clavículas quebrados estavam inconscientes.　

"...Ha! Seus malditos terrans!" – ela murmurou.

Sentindo uma leve sede ao ver o líquido vermelho escorrendo pelo pavimento de pedra, Astha fungou intencionalmente. Ela se surpreendeu ao ver um grupo de pessoas atacando seus semelhantes mais fracos. – O fato de suas aparências serem semelhantes as eles, torna seus caráteres malignos ainda mais perceptíveis. - E ainda insultam a ela e os outros Methuselahs, os chamando de 'vampiros', realmente eles não possuem a noção de seu devido lugar...

"Ah, com licença..."

De repente, Astha voltou a si ao ouvir uma voz extremamente lamentável vinda da sarjeta.

"Ei, se você não se importar, poderia me puxar? Na verdade, não consigo alcançar..."

“... ...”

Pensando bem, tem esse cara aqui.

Ela já estava cansada de interagir com esses Terrans. Mas deixá-lo assim a correr o risco de um ataque cardíaco seria um problema. Astha estendeu a mão casualmente.

"Aí está! Pegue."

"Ah, muito obrigado... A propósito, você não é do 'Império'? Não seria a Inspetora Chefe do Novo Império Humano, Tsala Methsaluth, Marquesa de Kyiv, Viscondessa de Odessa, Lorde Astharoshe Aslan?"

“O q....!?”

O rosto de Astha ficou rígido como se tivesse sido atingido por um raio.

Deste lado, somente 'eles' deveriam saber sobre ela. Como este homem sabia disso!?

(Espere! Não, não pode ser, de jeito nenhum...)

Num instante, um pressentimento sinistro passou pela parte de trás do córtex cerebral, fazendo a jovem nobre boyar do Império estremecer.　

"Eles" — A Duquesa de Milão, Caterina Sforza, e a Seção de Operações Especiais – Ax — do Ministério de Estado do Vaticano prometeram enviar seu melhor agente nesta operação conjunta. Não importa o quão estúpidos e loucos os Terrans fossem, mas justamente isto...

O padre olhou para o rosto de Astha, que estava paralisado pelo espanto ─ e para seu horror ─ sorriu suavemente.

"Ah, então é você mesmo? Que bom. Pensei que já tivesse ido embora. Eu sou Abel ── Abel Nightroad. Fui encarregado pela Duquesa de Milão para apoiar suas atividades de investigação em Veneza. Prazer em conhecê-la ♥"

……Será que seria possível soltar esta mão e voltar para o seu país?

Astha pensou nisso seriamente preocupada.

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Créditos da tradução:

Lutie (◕‿◕✿) ,

[puppymask]

Doomguy is NOT a bootlicker we know this. But I think ppls severely overestimate how much he gives a shit ABOUT the military u know!!! He doesn't give a fuck about protocol or any imperialist mentality attempts at brainwashing. Anyways I just believe the only thing the marines gave him was access to weapons, PTSD, and an attraction to men.

[gnratr0529]

Looking For Potential Musical Collaborators.

hey, so I love music, I’m a 16 year old in Illinois, and I wanna make music so bad, not only to put out art and my feelings into the world, but also to help others with shit they’re going through, and hey, maybe I could make some money doing what I love. But I truly don’t expect to be a big rockstar or whatever, I just wanna make music. I’ve been singing under various teachers for 7 years. I’ve been self teaching myself guitar for 8 years. I’ve been self teaching myself bass for 3 years. And picked up the drums about 6 months ago. And I have a pretty good understanding of music theory. I believe that the learning truly never ends when it comes to music. I first started to just give myself something to do as video games became boring and I was gifted a guitar because my uncle found one in a pawn shop and it was cheap and I had shown interest in music ever since I was a small dude. All music influences me in some way or another. Whether it be the heaviness of metal, the structure of blues, the twangy guitars of country, the influence of classical guitar soloing, the beautifulness of symphonic genres, the excitement of breakcore, the flow of rap, the catchiness of pop, and so on and so on. I truly just love to learn and incorporate styles into my musical style. Some bands/artists I’m influenced by (not in any particular order) are: Queens of the Stone Age, Primus, The Misfits, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Jimi Hendrix, Dredg, TOOL, MF DOOM, Run The Jewels, Sleep, Kyuss, Fu Manchu, Mondo Generator, Johnny Cash, Victor Wooten, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Slayer, Rage Against The Machine, My Chemical Romance, System Of A Down, Ween, The Offspring, Dinosaur Jr, Radar Men From The Moon, Cannibal Corpse, Këkht Aräkh, Acid Bath, Alice In Chains, and so much more. My song writing is fueled and inspired by: Pop Culture (Movies, Video games, Comic Books, nerdy stuff basically), Horror, Psychedelia, shedding light on problems that most people dont have the misfortune of experiencing, shedding light on political corruption and exploitation, an outlet for my feelings, and hoping to inspire others like others have inspired me. I do not have the Tumblr app so sorry if it takes awhile for me to get back to you. But I would love to hear from some people, whether it be interest in collaboration, advice, or just to talk about music in general. Whatever it is I look forward to meeting some new people.

[god-must-be-doing-cocaine]

Barbie didn’t make me hate men but the Woodstock 99 documentary definitely reignited it lmao

[goodnightmoonvale]

shoutout to @bplotd (who Tumblr won't let me tag for some reason) who sent this ask to me a while ago. I'm copy pasting it here, because I want to keep it in my inbox to look at forever. But I'm feeling a lot of rage and despair today about how I'm ever going to make a difference in the world, and this helped me a lot before, so I'm posting it again so other people can see it too:

I know there is an underpinning narrative in the current zeitgeist to move people away from the paralysis of the terminally online "gotta do everything all the time" anxiety by encouraging folks to exert effort in a single direction consistently. And I think that attitude is largely useful and helpful. But here is something i have learned from 10 years in international development: this isn't the only way to effect change. It may not even be the most effective way. So many successful projects I have seen, and long term positive changes, are yes due to the work of dedicated individuals or groups, but they are often equally due to one single, well-placed "yes". One lucky break. One teacher who says "sure you can use my curriculum notes" or one administrator who says "sure, you can turn in your grant late" or one community member who speaks up with a good idea or a very timely complaint or a young person who babysits for a key night so a mom can go to a meeting or --- Listen, what I'm saying is that random acts of kindness can and do make a difference, in many cases a HUGE one. They're sometimes the lucky break on which an entire project or opportunity hinges. I'm sure you've heard that phrase about "planting a garden you will never see". It can be so hard, because this random kindness or justice may never, ever connect their little good deed with the actual good it does in the world. I can't help you know exactly what your own kindness has wrought in the future - that is a gift that so few of us ever are given. But if you contribution is consistently /doing a good or kind of helpful thing/ when presented with the opportunity, you are doing enough, more than enough. Consistent effort isn't just volunteering or doing a job or working on something tangible. Sometimes consistent effort means being the person who makes little daily choices to extend grace to others. And friend, that isnt just "good enough", that is /salvation/. The people who need it will find you.

[dramarants]

I've said this before but as much as I was screaming at my screen, this is an opportunity for ttj to raise roots somewhere that not only includes the love of his life but also relationships without ridonkulous power imbalances among a supportive community and a new way of life outside the expectations set upon him since birth. who knows, maybe he'll choose to embrace his devil god fate lord knows the tension would not only be palpable but sexy af or maybe he'll become the supreme ultimate botanical sword master but he finally gets to be an active agent of his own life, choosing people, values, and goals for his own future, and hopefully, his journey (and lss's own growth returning + learning her identity) will reunite them knowing they're stronger, happier, and simply uplift each other when together. ttj's enduring love surmounted death and five centuries of agony to bring him to her place in the immortal realm, now it's up to them to figure themselves out and truly make it their home.

[billymayslesbian]

Before Lionblaze could argue, another shape burst through the billowing smoke to stand beside Squirrelflight. His eyes glared; his gray fur was matted together and stuck with bits of burnt leaf and twig. Confused by the smoke and flames, Hollyleaf almost thought she was seeing one of her warrior ancestors, until she recognized Ashfur.

Squirrelflight dropped the branch. “Help me push it into the fire!” she yowled.

Grabbing the branch in strong jaws, Ashfur thrust it past the wall of flame and into the ever-narrowing patch of ground where Hollyleaf and her brothers huddled. But Hollyleaf didn’t feel any sense of relief. There was a look in Ashfur’s eyes that she didn’t understand: the look of a cat who had just spotted an unexpected juicy bit of prey.

The branch made a bridge through the flames, but Ashfur stood at the other end of it, blocking the way to safety. Lionblaze nudged Jayfeather to his paws; Hollyleaf took a step toward the branch, then paused. She felt a cold weight in herbelly when she looked into Ashfur’s glittering blue eyes.

“Ashfur, get out of the way.” Squirrelflight’s voice was puzzled. “Let them get out!”

“Brambleclaw isn’t here to look after them now,” Ashfur sneered.

Hollyleaf felt her fur beginning to rise. What did Ashfur mean?

Lionblaze’s golden pelt was bristling, too. “What have you done with my father?” he howled through the flame.

Ashfur looked at him pityingly; his eyes were twin points of fire amid the burning forest. “Why would I waste my time with Brambleclaw?”

The main branch was too solid to catch fire easily, but the leaves on it had shriveled and the twigs were beginning to smoke. Hollyleaf realized that they didn’t have much time before their bridge to safety would be ablaze.

Squirrelflight staggered up to Ashfur. Hollyleaf had never seen her mother so angry. Her fur bristled with fury; she looked like a warrior of TigerClan. Yet it was obvious that the climb to the top of the cliff, followed by her struggle with the branch, had weakened her, and she was exhausted.

“Your quarrel with Brambleclaw has to stop,” she hissed. “Too many moons have passed. You have to accept that I’m Brambleclaw’s mate, not yours. You can’t keep trying to punish Brambleclaw for something that was always meant to be.”

Ashfur’s ears flicked up in surprise. “I have no quarrel with Brambleclaw.”

Hollyleaf exchanged a shocked glance with Lionblaze. “That’s not how it looks to me,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t care less about Brambleclaw,” Ashfur continued. “It’s not his fault he fell for a faithless she-cat.”

Faithless? A growl began to build in Hollyleaf ’s throat, but then she stopped and watched the cats on the other side of the blazing branches. Something ominous was taking place in front of her, and even with flame roaring around them she felt a sudden chill. She shrank closer to Lionblaze and Jayfeather, whose head was up, his sightless eyes intent, as if he could see the confrontation between his mother and Ashfur.

“I know you think I’ve never forgiven Brambleclaw for stealing you from me, but you’re wrong, and so is every cat that thinks so. My quarrel is with you, Squirrelflight.” Ashfur’s voice shook with rage. “It always has been.”

Horrified, Hollyleaf took a step back and felt her hind paws begin to slip on the edge of the cliff. Her head spun as lightning stabbed out and thunder drowned all other sounds, even the roaring fire. For a heartbeat she dangled over empty air, and she let out a strangled yowl.

Then she felt firm teeth meet in her scruff; blinking against the smoke, she realized that Lionblaze was hauling her back to safety. But there was no safety: only the hungry flames, and Ashfur blocking the end of the branch with fury in his eyes. Fiery sparks floated down on all three young cats, scorching their fur, and flames licked the underside of the branch; fear flooded afresh through Hollyleaf when she saw that it was already beginning to smolder.

Ashfur has to let us get out! But Hollyleaf couldn’t find any words to plead with him. What was happening here didn’t have anything to do with them, even if they died because of it.

“All this was moons ago.” Squirrelflight sounded puzzled. “Ashfur, I had no idea you were still upset.”

“Upset?” Ashfur echoed. “I’m not upset. You have no idea how much pain I’m in. It’s like being cut open every day, bleeding onto the stones. I can’t understand how any of you failed to see the blood. . . .”

His eyes clouded and his voice took on a wild, distant tone, as if he could see the blood spilling out of him now, sizzling on the burning ground. Terror burst through Hollyleaf and she pressed closer to her brothers. This cat was more dangerous than the storm or the fire, or the fall lurking perilously close to her hind paws.

Desperately she tried to step onto the end of the branch. At once Ashfur rounded on her, fully conscious again, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“Stay there!” Turning to face Squirrelflight but keeping one paw on the branch, he hissed, “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much you hurt me. You are the blind one, not Jayfeather. Who do you think sent Firestar the message to go down to the lake, where the fox trap was? I wanted him to die, to take your father away so you’d know the real meaning of pain.”

Hollyleaf ’s shocked gaze met Lionblaze’s. “He tried to kill Firestar?” she gasped. “He’s mad!”

Determination glittered in Lionblaze’s eyes, and he bunched his muscles for a giant leap. “I’m going to fight him.”

“No!” Hollyleaf fastened her teeth in his shoulder fur. “You can’t!” Her words were muffled now. “He’ll just push you into the fire.”

“Brambleclaw saved Firestar then,” Ashfur went on to Squirrelflight. “But he’s not here now. He’s not here—but your kits are.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes blazed. For a heartbeat Hollyleaf thought she was going to pounce on the gray warrior, but she knew that exhausted and in pain, her mother would have no chance. Squirrelflight seemed to realize it, too. She drew herself up, head high; she was trembling, but her voice was clear and brave.

“Enough, Ashfur. Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”

“You don’t understand.” Ashfur looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time; his voice was puzzled and petulant. “This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . .” He looked through the flames at Hollyleaf and her brothers, his eyes narrowing to dark blue slits. “If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”

The flames crackled threateningly closer; Hollyleaf felt as if the heat was about to sear her pelt into ashes. She edged backward, only to feel the edge of the hollow give way under her hind paws. The three of them were pressed tightly together, so close that if one of them lost their balance, all three would be dragged off the cliff. Hollyleaf couldn’t control the trembling that shook her whole body as her glance flickered between the cliff and the fire.

Jayfeather was crouched close to the ground, looking tinier than ever with his pelt slicked flat by the rain. Lionblaze’s claws were unsheathed, glinting as the lightning flashed out again, but the tension in his haunches didn’t come from preparing to leap at Ashfur; it came from the effort of keeping himself on the top of the cliff.

Squirrelflight raised her head, her gaze locked on Ashfur’s crazed eyes. “Kill them, then,” she meowed. “You won’t hurt me that way.”

Ashfur opened his jaws to reply, but said nothing. Hollyleaf and her brothers stared at their mother. What was Squirrelflight saying?

Squirrelflight took a step away from them, and glanced carelessly over her shoulder. Her green eyes were fiercer than Hollyleaf had ever seen them, with an expression she couldn’t read.

“If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that,” Squirrelflight snarled. “They are not my kits.”

[magicdustsworld]

𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A guide on how to properly date your tattooed, big, bad boyfriend.

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒: Established relationship, slice of life

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: some profanity, biting(non sexual), fluff, no curse AU, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n. (Would be just a short series of drabbles)

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏 : 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

"I love you."

"What?"

"I love you." You say with a sheepish grin playing on your lips as you get on your knees, crawling over to him. The silk sheets crease under your deliberate yet rhythmic movements – something which he doesn't even seem to notice. For the felicity in your eyes and the ardor clouding your visage is a expression to great to ignore and even though it's Sukuna, he can't ignore you.

You reach his side, resting your arm on the bedframe, looking up at him with a expression akin to a child looking at something it holds dear. "You know I love you so much, right?"

He blinks, clearly baffled with your sudden proclamation of love. Raking his brain over everything he did today – nothing out of the ordinary except being a asshole to that one salesman who wouldn't take his leave until selling his– whatever it was. But for Sukuna that's ordinary cause he's a jerk at heart.

He tilts his head, "What do you want?"

"Your arm." You are quick to reply, voice carrying an ardor which is too loud to miss. "Give me your arm."

His eye twitches, shooting you a – are you serious – look. You reply with a nod, stretching your hand, asking to get served. A disinterested scowl graces his lips, sparing you a glance, he turns to the opposite side.

This time, your eye twitches. He did not just reject your advances. You huff, inching closer to him as you place your hand over his bicep, "Baby... look at me."

He does. You jut out lower lip, eyebrows furrowing and tipping your head up at him. He can't help but consider how much you ressemble a cat with that expression. He pinches his lips, "If you think that's going to convince me otherwise then you're wrong— ow!"

In no time, you have sunk your teeth on his bicep, the canines puncturing the flesh, incisors holding the skin in place as you glare up at him.

Sukuna winces in sheer pain, trying to pull his arm off of your hold but you remain adamant on not letting him go. "Owh— what the actual fuck woman? Let go of me!"

You do let go, retracting your mouth but do not let go of his arm. You pout at him and Sukuna looks down at the attacked area. A circle of crescent moon shapes has forned on the part of the skin – it hurts like a bitch.

He turns to face you fully, crimson eyes blazing with a rage as he looks down on you. "What the hell was that for?"

You pout, narrowing your eyes, "Cuddle with me."

"After that stunt you pulled? Absolutely not."

"Absolutely yes."

He glares at you and you glare back; the silence turning into a staring match.

Sukuna scans your face, the crease on your forehead to the way you've twisted your lips and finally the flicker of vexation in your eyes.

Definitely a cat.

He sighs, threading his fingers through his hair before stretching out his arm. "Come here."

In an instant the irkness vanishes and you jump into his arms, eyes gleaming with delight and mouth stretched into a triumph grin. You giggle, "I knew you'd come along." You say, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck as Sukuna loops his arm around your waist, shifting you to a closer and better position.

He sighs, "Whatever, brat. Just don't bite me again."

You pursue your lips, gazing at him with a guilt. Leaning up, you press your lips against his cheeks in a chaste kiss, "Mhm, sorry."

Heat rushes up Sukuna's face, spreading from his ears to his neck; he looks away from you.

"Aw, are you blushing?"

"Shut up."

"You are blushing."

He merely responds with placing his hand on the back of your head and pushing your face down on his chest. "Shut up."

You giggle, mumbling something incoherent before snuggling closer to him. "I love you."

This time, Sukuna doesn't suppress the idiotic grin which spreads on his lips. With your face pressed against his chest, he strokes your hair, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

"I know, brat."

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐

[jadarnr]

TRINITY BLOOD

RAGE AGAINST THE MOONS

(Storia: Sunao Yoshida // Illustrazioni: Thores Shibamoto)

Vol.1 - From the Empire

WITCH HUNT - Prologo

Traduzione italiana di jadarnr dai volumi inglesi editi da Tokyopop.

Sentitevi liberi di condividere, ma fatelo per piacere mantenendo i credits e il link al post originale 🙏

Grazie a @trinitybloodbr per il suo prezioso contributo alla revisione sul testo originale giapponese ✨

“Che cosa orribile. Chi mai farebbe una cosa del genere?” Sospirò Abel.

Si spinse i suoi spessi occhiali rotondi sul naso affilato, incurante della bellissima notte. All’esterno, un usignolo sbucò da un cespuglio, cantando dolcemente. Il dolce suono, assieme a quello delle grilli e delle rane, faceva sembrare la notte illuminata dalle due lune ancora più pacifica e piacevole.

Ma Abel non stava notando nulla di tutto ciò.

Era in piedi dentro ad un piccolo edificio. In un’altra vita poteva essere stato un bar o qualcosa di simile, ma ora era solamente il luogo di un massacro. C’erano corpi sparsi ovunque, molti fatti a pezzi. Scie di sangue imbrattavano le pareti dal pavimento fino al soffitto. Il liquido rosso colava dentro pozze scure e stava già iniziando a coagularsi.

“Perché non sono arrivato qui prima?” Si chiese.

L’improvviso suono di una pozza che veniva calpestata fece voltare la testa ad Abel. Si girò di scatto. “Chi sei?”

Una strana figura apparve dietro ad uno dei tavoli rovesciati. Lo sconosciuto si avvicinò ad Abel, il suono di sangue e budella schiacciate che accompagnava ogni suo passo. Era lievemente piegato in avanti, e sembrava tenere qualcosa fra le mani. Quando la luce della luna lo illuminò, ad Abel sfuggì un grido strozzato.

L’uomo era coperto da capo a piedi di sangue, aveva le zanne rotte che sporgevano da vari angoli della bocca e teneva in mano la testa insanguinata di una donna.

“Grrraaaahhhh!” La creatura fece un balzo verso Abel.

Abel cercò di arretrare ma era troppo tardi, inciampò e cadde sulla schiena. Il vampiro ruggendo attaccò il prete indifeso. Abel contrasse i muscoli delle braccia e della schiena preparandosi al colpo.

BOOM!

Un colpo assordante seguito da un lampo di luce accecante interruppe il silenzioso combattimento. Il vampiro si schiantò sul pavimento. Furioso, cercò di urlare ma invece della voce gli uscì dalla bocca sangue misto alle sue interiora. Le sue braccia e le sue gambe si agitavano come se fossero state tirate da dei fili invisibili.

“Ma cos…” Abel giaceva ancora a terra, illeso, a parte il ronzio nelle orecchie. Nessuna pallottola l’aveva colpito. Sentì dei passi avvicinarsi dal secondo piano di scale. Erano perfettamente ritmati: clack, clack, clack, clack… pesanti, quasi meccanici.

“P—padre Tres. Sei tu?”

“Affermativo.” Rispose la monocorde voce meccanica.

Un prete dall’aspetto giovane apparve all’ingresso. Il suo viso sotto i capelli corti era bello, ma non faceva trasparire alcuna emozione, come una maschera. Teneva in mano una delle pistole più grosse al mondo, la Jericho M13 ‘Dies Irae’, con la canna da 13mm ancora fumante.

“Come mai sei qui Tres? Pensavo che stessi investigando i rapimenti negli orfanotrofi…”

Il giovane prete non rispose.

Padre Tres, prete errante ed agente della divisione AX - Dipartimento Segreto della Segreteria di Stato Vaticana - rimase semplice e immobile, guardando il vuoto. Dopo un momento di silenzio, puntò la pistola verso il pavimento e sparò due volte.

BOOM! BOOM!

Con un grido strozzato, il vampiro che stava cercando di rigenerarsi tornò a crollare per terra.

“Ma che ti passa per la testa Tres?!” Esclamò Abel.

“Non l’ho ucciso. Devo ancora fargli qualche domanda. Ma perché sei qui Padre Nightroad? Ha a che fare con l’incidente della Tristan?”

“Sí. Il Duca Alfredo faceva parte di di un gruppo chiamato Fleur du Mal. Usavano questo posto come rifugio sicuro. Ma sembra che sia arrivato troppo tardi. Un sacco di vittime umane.”

“Questi cadaveri non sono umani. Sono vampiri.” Rispose Tres.

“Cosa? Come? Si sono uccisi a vicenda? Si sono suicidati? C—cos’è successo?” Balbettò Abel.

“Non sono in grado di rispondere. Non ho abbastanza informazioni.” Rispose Tres.

Il giovane prete piegò il collo in alto verso il secondo piano di scale. La sua espressione non cambiò.

“Gli orfani rapiti erano già stati uccisi per usarli come nutrimento. Non ho potuto interrogarli.” Tres informò Abel freddamente.

“Santo cielo. Erano solo dei bambi—”

“Sshh.” Lo interruppe il prete più giovane.

Tres sorpassò Abel con un movimento. La sua pistola puntata davanti a sé mentre scandagliava l’oscurità.

Tres fece un gesto con la pistola. “Da questa parte.”

Da dietro la porta della cantina provenne un suono come un fruscio di vestiti.

“Ci dovevano essere circa venti membri dei Fleur du Mal, giusto?” Chiese Abel.

“Affermativo. Stimo che ce ne siano rimasti almeno dodici. Sto entrando.” Disse Tres.

BOOM! BOOM!

Tres fece saltare la porta della cantina dai suoi cardini. Schegge di legno volarono in ogni direzione, ma la cosa non disturbò Tres. Si mosse agilmente nell’oscurità, correndo giù per le scale. Il mirino laser della sua M13 tagliava l’oscurità. Trovò il suo bersaglio velocemente. Non ci impiegò molto per prendere la mira e prepararsi a sparare. Ma Abel afferrò il suo braccio prima che potesse premere il grilletto.

BOOM!

Una pallottola andò a conficcarsi nel soffitto.

“Tres! Aspetta!” Gridò Abel. “È un bambino!”

La figura illuminata dal mirino della pistola era quella una ragazzina dai capelli d’oro e dagli occhi castani, che ora erano spalancati dalla paura.

[trinitybloodbr]

E αqui começα o projeto de trαdução pαrα o Pt-Br dα Novel de Trinity Blood.

α série foi divididα em duαs pαrtes

R.α.M - Rαge αgαinst the Moons ( 6 volumes)

R.O.M - Reborn on the Mαrs (6 volumes)

Cαnon

Iremos começαr com α pαrte R.α.M - Rαge αgαinst the Moons e o seu primeiro volume.

A trαduçαo serα feitα α pαrtir dα novel originαl em jαponês.

Espero que nesse período de tempo, consigα encontrαr mαis fαs dessα obrα, que pαrα mim, é minhα fαvoritα em termos de vαmpiros.

Essα obrα nαo é de minhα αutoriα.

Trαdução feitα de fã pαrα fã.

NαO é αUTORIZαDO utilizαr essα trαdução em outros lugαres sem α devidα permissão.

𝔄𝔧𝔲𝔡𝔢𝔪 𝔬𝔰 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬 𝔰𝔲𝔞𝔰 𝔬𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔰 𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔦𝔰.

[blitzwhore]

I can't stop thinking about how Stolas hasn't seen any of the growth that Blitzø has had in Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers regarding his feelings for Stolas... And what little he has witnessed, he was probably too drunk to process.

He hasn't seen Blitzø almost bankrupting his business. He hasn't seen Blitzø watching him dance with, and kiss, someone else and losing his mind. He hasn't seen Blitzø softly admitting that the bird really got to him; hasn't seen Blitzø holding back tears while saying he'll never have a relationship with Stolas.

And, in Mastermind, though their inner worlds connect, Stolas is still very pointedly facing away from Blitzø. Not seeing Blitzø cry desperately for him, not hearing Blitzø beg him not to sacrifice himself; too focused on getting through this moment, on saving Blitzø, on taking the blame and ultimately dying.

And this is Stolas—the same man who told Blitzø "you are free of me" in The Full Moon. The same man who sang "I don't think it meant a thing at all to you". The same man who believes he is not good enough to be loved, who believes he is a burden—that no one could possibly choose to be in his company, at least not without getting something in exchange—least of all Blitzø. The same man who was so ready to accept Blitzø's rejection and extricate himself from Blitzø's life that he fulfilled the prophecy himself by portaling Blitzø away after Blitzø's (perceived) rejection.

Blitzø has come to the realisation that he loves Stolas, and to the realisation that Stolas loves him. But I don't think it has clicked for Stolas yet that Blitzø loves him too.

And now, Stolas has nothing. The only reason he has a roof over his head is that Blitzø has taken him in.

Just how guilty is he going to feel? Just how strongly is he going to believe that he's burdening Blitzø by needing a place to stay, by needing to be taken care of? Just how hard is he going to try to convince himself that Blitzø could never possibly love him, despite the blatant, obvious love that is going to pour from every single of Blitzø's words and actions toward him?

Oh. Oh. What if it's now Stolas' turn to believe he could never be loved by Blitzø despite the raging evidence against that? Just like Blitzø has done for the better part of these two seasons?

[kitten4sannie]

mafia san! always gets what he wants btw, especially when it comes to playing with his favorite toy ♡

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

“Look at me, baby, yeah, like that,” San whispers down to you, his breathy voice hardly reaching you past the sound of the loud, crackling fire blazing away behind you within the lavish living room of the estate, though you’re far too focused on the shlick sounds of San’s hand rubbing eagerly along his stiff, dripping cock to really hear what he’s saying to you. He presses a finger into the underside of your chin, tilting it up. “You look like you want something, princess. Use your words, will you?”

“I want to touch you, sir, please let me?” you ask, not even recognizing your own pathetic voice. When did you get this desperate for someone as dangerous as Choi San, the trusted head of the Park Estate? Your legs and feet start to grow numb underneath you from being in that same position for so long, encouraging you to lean forward, resting your head against his bare thigh, your eyes wide and full of need, feeling his muscles contract underneath your cheek as he tossed his head back, his fingers squeezing around the base of his throbbing erection. “I’ll be good, sir, I promise…”

Growing hotter by the second from the raging fire nearby and his pretty plaything quite literally begging on her knees just to put her hands on him, San opened up his heavy fur coat to expose the entirety of his naked body, his pretty tan skin glowing underneath the low light of the room. He gave you a smug sideways smile, angling his cock down to lightly smack it against your heated cheek, making you gasp. “Be good and spit on my cock, then, princess.”

Swallowing down the rest of your dignity, you pursed your lips, letting a few strings of saliva drip down onto the head of his cock, watching him eagerly lube it up, your cunt pulsating like it had its own heartbeat. His curved length was thick and heavy inside San’s slick hand, decorated with prominent veins that all led to the reddened, shiny tip. Your blushing face was mere inches away from it, admiring the way San continued to pleasure himself, from gripping at his swollen balls to running his fingers over one of his perked nipples. Not being able to do anything was simultaneously killing you inside but keeping the fire lit inside your core, and San knew that. That’s why he controlled you in this way.

“Does my pretty doll want to be even prettier for me? Hm? Does she want to be a good toy for me?” San hummed out in between heavy breaths, a few drops of sweat falling off of his jaw and wetting the fur of his coat, all the while thick beads of pre-cum pooled out of his slit and dripped down the swollen head of his cock.

“Yes, please,” you voiced desperately, your dilated eyes flitting from his pulsing cock to his fiery gaze, tears starting to blind your vision from how bad you wanted to taste the saltiness of his pre-cum on your tongue, drool escaping from your parted lips.

Chuckling softly at you, he reached down to slip his fingers into your hair, tugging you towards him just as his moans began to grow louder, taking his time as he painted your beautifully pitiful face with his hot load, making sure not to miss your glistening lips, smearing the last few dribbles of cum over them to finally give you a taste. That’s all it took for you to shudder and fall completely apart before him, falling forward into his bare lap, your mind spinning. You really were his toy, operating only for his own pleasure, which in turn had become your own, somewhere along the way.

San’s eyes resembled crescent moons, his smile only growing wider. He had molded you into the perfect pet.

“That’s my good slut. Now, it’s time to bend over and take what I give you.”

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[my-castles-crumbling]

motel - November 3rd - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 248

"There's nothing else?" Sirius asked the harried-looking person at the front desk, his voice a bit desperate but not rude.

"Sorry sir," she frowned. "Two rooms on opposite sides of the building, each with a king bed. That's all we have."

James, Sirius, Remus, and Regulus all stared outside from the snow storm raging to their very ill-equipped car.

"Alright," Sirius sighed. "We'll take them. I'll share with Reg and James and Moons can share."

"That's stupid," Regulus piped up, rolling his eyes. "Share a bed with your boyfriend, Sirius. James and I can deal with each other for one night."

Frowning, Sirius looked between James and Regulus, as if trying to see if they could actually last twenty four hours without killing each other.

"I promise I won't severely injure him," Regulus added, sending Sirius an annoyed look. James just chuckled uncomfortably. "We can get along for a night, can't we, James?"

"Yeah," James shrugged, grimacing a bit.

After a moment, Sirius seemed to give in. "Fine. But remember the roads are out, so no there are ambulances if you stab each other."

It wasn't until ten minutes later when they entered their room that Regulus and James turned to each other. James, beaming ear to ear, pressed Regulus against the door and immediately began kissing down his neck. "Think we can get along for the night, Reg?" he whispered in his ear, his breath making him shiver.

"I think so," Regulus smirked, pulling their lips together.