#truly ethreal

[miss-nandini]

Hey was wondering if you can write some angst with Malleus? I’m in a Malleus mood. What if Crowley finds a way back home? Ps I really like you riddle angst!!! You can choose if it has a happy ending. I’m just in the mood for lots angst lol.

Hope you are doing well. Anything for my best mutual 💜💜💜

Kiss and Make up

In his eyes you were so much more than a magicless human. In his eyes, you were terrifyingly-beautiful. In his eyes, you were his first friend. To Malleus, you were ethreal yet ruthless. How could you make his heart grow fonder for you every day and then rip it out of his chest at once? He didn't know and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

After all this time Crowley finally found you a way home? When you actually wanted to go home he brushed you off. But, when you finally make a new family he will throw you back? Sure your loved your world more than anything, but there was something...more like someone who kept tugging your heartstrings in a dangerous way.

"My dearest child of man, you don't have to worry. I am happy that you can finally go back to the place you call...home." Lies and bigger lies. He wasn't happy in the slightest. His knees were buckling up just thinking that he won't get to see his love again. Why didn't he tell you that he loves you? Why? Why when he is finally ready to confess, you are leaving? The universe is truly against him. Without you, his life has no meaning.

He took your hands in his and peppered them with feather-light kisses after your friends were done crowding around you. His heart was breaking with every single kiss he left on your skin. Yet, he kept himself composed. No one made a comment if his hands shook, if his voice trembled and if his breath hitched in his throat.

The whole school was upset. Ace, Deuce and Grim were the most affected besides Malleus. Kalim actually ended up crying with the other first years. Riddle couldn't look you in the eyes, Leona's grip on your hand was begging you to stay, Azul was super quiet, Vil had to control his trembling voice so many times, Idia wasn't surprised at all, he knew this was coming one day or the other and Malleus... he could barely keep himself together...

You couldn't handle it anymore. You couldn't leave your family heartbroken.

"H-headmage, I-I don't want to l-leave...! Please let me stay..." You sobbed with your friends.

For once, Crowley looked sympathetic.

"(Y/N), this is your only chance... You can't possibly—

"No! I don't want to go!!"

"Very well, then..."

The cheers that came after that statement was deafening. But, that wasn't the end. What happened next would probably get a billion likes in Magicam.

Malleus swooped in like the prince he is. Before you could even understand a thing, you were swept up and his lips were on yours. You were beyond shocked. Malleus Draconia, The prince of Briar Valley claimed you as his in front of the whole school.

The amount of claps, whistles and professor Trein's "You both will get detention!" can be ignored for now.

[mikaelsrose]

First of all: YOUR DESCRIPTIONS ARE E V E R Y T H I N G, weren't it for the fact that I know the truth I'd think your fics require no effort cause it reads incredibly, like an amazing novel that you just can't put away. Ah, to be so young and already so talented 🥺

now brace yourself because it's gonna be long👉🏼👈🏼 i am so not normal about this fic, it's genius

She was back in Undermount, safe in the chambers she shared with Tyril in the Starfury Manor. He held her close against his chest, his fingers softly stroking her hair as he murmured soothing words she couldn’t hear, her ears still ringing as she slowly adjusted to her surroundings. She was slowly brought back to her senses as Tyril rubbed small circles into her back with his thumb, his presence alone tethering her to reality once more and guiding her awareness to the present, like an anchor of solace. He ran a hand through her soft curls, tilting her head back slightly. Even illuminated by the silver moonlight her face looked paler and dark shadows rested beneath her eyes, once vibrant but now turned dull with the heaviness of what she had seen.

OKAY?? I know Raine's hurting but these two paragraphs are just so special to me, that whole interaction is so soft, Tyril comforting her, gently caressing her back and hair, whispering soothing words just...scream husband material🫠

Tyril held his tongue as he realised he was powerless against the situation, and the words died in the back of his throat. I want to help you and I can’t.

TYRIL FEELING SO POWERLESS IS SO HEART-WRENCHING ON SO MANY LEVELS, I want to hug him and whisper in his ear that everything will be alright😭

the fact he also had nightmares about losing Raine aghhhhh don't play with my heart like that, it hurts so much

He threaded his fingers through hers and she turned the palm of his hand skyward, tracing her thumb along the smooth skin of his wrist as she searched for the comforting rhythm of his pulse.

SOFT SOFT SOFT SOFT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH PLEASE

A wave of sadness washed over him at her words. “You deserve that, too.” He would give the stars and the earth to see her smile again, her eyes sparkling violet in the sunshine and a gentle breeze softly tousling her hair.

it's fine, i'm just lying in the pool of my own tears

TYRIL CASTING THE SPELL TO HELP HER FALL ASLEEP---- I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS INSIDE RN "REST, MY LOVE" SFCBVSFILDJK

the seer is so mysterious but also…so badass, i might've developed a slight crush on her ngl👉🏼👈🏼💀

XAIUS AND ELLARA OH MY GOD WHAT AN HONOUR?? MY HEART LITERALLY SKIPPED A BEAT, i can only imagine how hard tyril was fangirling inside haha

Aureate towers and ivory spires arched high into the sky and the sunlight above turned everything a glistening pale gold, as though the city had been carved from the first rays of light at dawn.

this line's so beautiful, not only you can immediately imagine the city but it also feels so ethreal

you truly outdid yourself, it's an outstanding work, my new favourite fic and i cannot wait for the second part!!! you always write tyril so well but with xaius and ellara you seriously reached mastery. incredible job, friend💞💞💞

Elhalas

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine Nightbloom x Tyril Starfury

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Fantasy violence, blood, death

Length: ~7k words

Summary: Raine and Tyril must journey to the Land of the Gods in order to defeat an impending threat.

Tags: @lawrencebarkley @watatsumi-island @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations

A/N: Part one! This isn’t related to the plot of book two in any way and pretty much stands as its own thing.

She found herself in a world like death.

One where hellfire rained from the heavens, and ash drifted through the air like blackened snow. If there were any gods watching over this realm, then they had abandoned it long ago.

The charred earth splintered beneath her feet with each step she took, the only sign of a land that had once flourished with life but now lied in ruins, having crumbled in the wake of devastation and leaving only a distant memory behind.

Above her, the red sun stared down like a watchful eye, blazing with crimson fire as it followed her every move, as its hellish glow painted the sky in blood.

It had not spared anyone from its ire before, and she would be no different.

A horrific squawk cried from overhead, and through darkened clouds she could make out the faint shadow of a creature’s wings flapping high above. In a burst of flame it emerged from the sky, soaring directly towards her with gnarled claws ablaze.

It almost looked like a drake, though with dark and matted feathers in place of the vivid colours from those she had come to know, and a sharp beak that opened wide to breathe a column of scorching fire in her direction.

She raised her hands to summon her magic in defence, but where sparks of light usually flickered to life upon her fingertips, there was nothing. She was powerless in this place.

Instead she threw her body to the side as the blast sailed overhead, causing a wave of heat to ripple against the dry air. Her fingernails raked against black mud as she struggled to pull herself from the ground, but the drake was faster and she writhed in agony as its claws dug deep into her sides, the sharp talons drawing blood.

Its screeches rang in her ears as it took off to the skies once more, carrying her higher to where the smoke grew thick and putrid, and the acrid stench of sulphur tainted the air.

Below, the rivers of lava wound themselves into a labyrinth, emitting a faint amber glow barely visible through the dense haze. Sharp rocks jutted out of the ground like shards of black glass as the drake descended lower to where the scorched earth began to crack, forming a large fissure down the centre of the land.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as it released its hold on her body, throwing her down into the wide chasm below.

The wind howled past her ears as she fell, its cries slowly morphing into anguished wails the further and faster she plummeted down. Grey rock faded into vast nothingness as darkness took hold, and still she remained falling through a pit of despair.

She didn’t know how much time had passed as minutes and hours merged into an endless blur. With no other options, she made one last attempt at calling for her magic. A final plea for something, anything to happen, for even the tiniest spark to ignite in the dark, but it was hopeless. The Light did not shine on her here.

Just as she thought she would spend an eternity falling to her demise, she hit the ground and tumbled down a hill of ash before rolling onto her back, gasping and unable to move.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was at the bottom of a cavern, the air cold and bleak deep beneath the lava’s surface. A dim glow faintly illuminated the space around her, but its source was weak and fading, and it didn’t offer the same comfort as the warmth she was used to.

She was curious to know where it was coming from, but couldn’t move her neck to follow it. A pool of blood stained the ash beneath her and specks of dust drifted through the air as she took a shaky breath.

All she could do was listen. She heard the faint trickling of water from a crack in the rocks nearby, no doubt tainted like the other remnants of this realm. Somewhere else in the cavern she could hear the sound of iron chains being dragged across the ground, and a pair of heavy footsteps edging closer and closer.

A shadow fell over her crumpled body in the form of two dark wings, slowly unfurling with a cold breeze that sent chills up her spine. Through blurred vision she caught a glimpse of obsidian eyes, harsh and cold as they bore into her own.

Except the figure seemed to see past her, turning instead towards the opening where she watched a young woman follow him further into the cave, and she froze at the sight.

It was her.

Or rather, someone who had once been her, but was now a different person entirely. Her skin was a pale shade of grey, and her eyes were turned pitch black. Dark tears spilled down her cheeks and her voice was laced with a bitter desperation she couldn’t place.

“I did what you asked,” she pleaded. “I sacrificed everything.”

When the winged figure spoke, it was with a voice like the rolling of distant thunder, echoing across the cavern walls and causing the earth beneath to tremble.

“V’eratis vos detrima,” he seethed behind clenched teeth in an ancient language she didn’t recognise nor understand, and a black spear glinted from where it appeared in his grip. “You have outlived your purpose.”

Her corrupted self’s eyes widened as she realised what his words meant. Still, she made no attempt to fight death, offering no resistance as he hurled the weapon towards her.

The sharp point pierced through her heart, embedding itself in the stone walls behind her. From the ground, she watched as her body slumped forward, pinned to the wall with black blood dripping from the hole in her chest.

With a blast of wind that stirred the ash and dust around them, the figure took off to the skies, leaving her alone in the darkness.

She was still paralysed on the ground where she had landed after falling, and her head began to spin as she felt herself fading. Using all the remaining strength she had left, she lifted her head weakly, only to find her corrupted self staring right back at her.

“Who are you?” She whispered, terrified.

The blood fell faster, dripping onto the ground as her gaze locked onto her own. “I’m who you’ll become, if you fail.”

Tendrils of shadow emerged from the darkness, like phantom hands reaching out to wrap themselves violently around her limbs before dragging her down to the depths that awaited below, leaving her real self truly alone in a world gone wrong.

Above, a crimson inferno blazed on the dark horizon.

And soon it would consume her too.

Raine woke with a scream spilling past her lips. Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage from where it felt trapped within her chest and a pale sheen of sweat coated her skin, glistening under the moonlight.

She took deep gasps of air, no longer tainted by ash or smoke but instead clean and fresh, filling her lungs with relief. It wasn’t until she felt a pair of warm arms pulling her into their protective embrace that she realised what had happened and where she was.

She was back in Undermount, safe in the chambers she shared with Tyril in the Starfury Manor. He held her close against his chest, his fingers softly stroking her hair as he murmured soothing words she couldn’t hear, her ears still ringing as she slowly adjusted to her surroundings.

There was still a lingering pain in her sides from where the drake’s sharp claws had delved deep into her flesh, and she raised a fist to her mouth as she held back a strangled sob while tossing aside the silken bedsheets.

Each of its talons had been the size of a small dagger embedding themselves into her skin, and despite the pain that thrummed there like the piercing edge of a blade, when she reached for her sides expecting to find jagged lacerations and seeping blood, there was nothing.

She pulled her hand away, taking a shaky breath. There was always nothing. Never so much as a single scratch marring her skin despite the pain that suggested otherwise. She almost wished there was, at least then she’d have evidence that what she had experienced was real, that these horrors didn’t just reside within her mind and were more than just a bad dream.

A hollow cave ached in her chest at the thought. It hadn’t been real, she knew that. But it had felt real, and so was the fear these nightmares left behind. Visions of anguish and suffering so vivid they etched themselves into her memory, haunting her rest whenever she closed her eyes and lurking in the shadows during the day.

She was slowly brought back to her senses as Tyril rubbed small circles into her back with his thumb, his presence alone tethering her to reality once more and guiding her awareness to the present, like an anchor of solace. He ran a hand through her soft curls, tilting her head back slightly. Even illuminated by the silver moonlight her face looked paler and dark shadows rested beneath her eyes, once vibrant but now turned dull with the heaviness of what she had seen.

“They’re getting worse,” he whispered, his brows pulled together in concern. She looked away, but not without guilt stirring in her heart as she did so. “Raine,” he frowned, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “I want to help you, I—” Tyril held his tongue as he realised he was powerless against the situation, and the words died in the back of his throat. I want to help you and I can’t.

He had fought against them before, the battles that were not physical but instead lingered on unseen in the mind. A war that often seemed endless when the adversary knew every weakness to target, striking the gaps in the armour until it finally cracked. If he could fight them for her he would, but they both knew it wasn’t that simple.

Tyril sighed, pulling her even closer into his embrace. “How am I supposed to protect you from what I cannot fight?”

Raine wrapped her arms around his back, looking up to meet his worried gaze. “Just being here is enough.”

He wished it was.

These nightmares had been plaguing her sleep ever since the Dreadlord was defeated, but over the last few weeks they were slowly becoming increasingly more frequent and terrifying. At first, Tyril had tried to console her.

“I have them, too,” he had whispered in the dark when she woke with a pounding heart after they first began. “It’s to be expected, given what we have faced.”

She turned to him, then, the rise and fall of her chest slowing as her breathing steadied once more. “And what are yours?”

He was silent for a moment, and the only sound she could hear was the soft ticking of the pendulum clock in the hallway outside their shared room before he answered her, his voice low. “Losing you.”

Though as her nightmares began to grow more graphic and distressing, Raine wasn’t sure they were just dreams anymore. They were beginning to feel more like a warning she couldn’t heed, her mind whispering obscurities while she slept. It seemed to be her curse as of recent, being tormented by visions she didn’t understand.

All she knew was that in bringing Light to the Realm of Shadow, she had awakened an ancient and powerful enemy, and that despite defeating the Dreadlord and his court, the battle against darkness was not yet over.

When Tyril saw she had begun to calm down, he slowly laid her back onto the bed, her hair splaying against the silken pillows as she moved to rest her forehead against his neck. He threaded his fingers through hers and she turned the palm of his hand skyward, tracing her thumb along the smooth skin of his wrist as she searched for the comforting rhythm of his pulse.

A beam of moonlight shining through the arched windows cast a silver crescent on his face as he settled down beside her. His mind wasn’t at ease either, ever the strategic warrior, he was already considering their next options.

“We should gather our friends, and your brother. If there’s any form of threat on the horizon, they will be able to help.”

Raine shook her head. “I can’t ask them to risk their lives again. Not when this is my mistake.”

“I’d hardly call saving the realms a mistake.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, bitter at circumstance, but not at her.

Never at her.

A small crease formed between her brows as she frowned. “It would be unfair to them, Tyril. They already gave so much of themselves while helping us take down the shadow court, and they’ve finally found peace after everything that happened…”

A wave of sadness washed over him at her words. “You deserve that, too.”

She sighed, fiddling with a loose thread on her nightgown. “But what else can be done?”

“We should visit Claris,” he suggested while moving his thumb to stroke her cheek. “If anyone knows what’s causing these visions and what they mean, it will be her.”

Raine nodded hesitantly before curling back up beside him.

“I’m tired of war,” she whispered into his chest. All he could do was pull her closer and it made his heart ache. Tyril had felt helpless many times before in his life, but none stirred him so deeply as this.

He would give the stars and the earth to see her smile again, her eyes sparkling violet in the sunshine and a gentle breeze softly tousling her hair. But the stars that once shone in her eyes seemed so far away, and he was powerless to bring them back.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as she tried to keep the visions at bay, she knew she couldn’t let them consume her.

“Would you like me to cast the spell?” Tyril asked, and when she nodded he moved to rest his lips against the top of her head, murmuring a faint incantation into her hair.

As he spoke, a soft glow began to surround her, leaving a shimmering trail like delicate rays of golden starlight. Slowly, they began to weave and intertwine together as though they were ribbons, pulsing with magic until they burst in a radiant display of light and leaving only small embers fading in the air.

Raine closed her eyes as she was overcome with a wave of drowsiness, the spell already beginning to take effect. It was a simple dream spell, not strong enough to ward the nightmares off entirely, but enough to hold them at bay and guide her to slumber once more, providing a temporary solace until the two could find a more permanent solution.

“Rest, my love.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I will be here when you wake.”

With his arms wrapped around her waist and a faint smile on her lips, she slowly began drifting off to sleep.

Until her screams pierced the fragile silence once more.

When dawn finally gave way to early morning and the soft amber glow of sunrise slowly melted into a pale blue mist, the two stepped outside into the crisp air that surrounded the elven mountain city. A carriage was waiting for them there, the golden spokes of its wheels designed to resemble a sun flaring its rays of light outward.

Tyril lifted his hand out for Raine as he helped her up the steps, before they both settled comfortably on the plush velvet seats.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, seeing her face was still pallid and her cheeks held a grey tinge, lacking the rosiness they usually shone with.

“Nervous,” she admitted, pulling back the ornately woven curtain slightly to glance out the window, but quickly drawing it closed as a sudden wave of nausea added to the crawling feeling of unease already residing in her stomach. “It feels like everything depends on this visit.”

He reached across to take her hands in his, expression solemn. “No matter what information is revealed to us in there, I’ll be by your side.”

A small smile hinted at her lips. “I know you will.”

She rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand, hoping to distract herself. “Can you tell me more about Claris?”

Tyril nodded. “She’s a seer widely renowned within Undermount for her impressive foresight, and has been predicting which Great Houses will rise and fall for years without fail, much to the displeasure of certain political heads. For the most part she is exceedingly insightful and some even claim that her visions are sent from the Gods themselves, though she’s never confirmed or denied this.”

Raine’s eyes widened slightly. “Why would they be displeased with her?”

“They feel that they’ve been humiliated, and so seek a source to blame instead of looking to their own faults, as is the way of our people. It’s hardly her doing.” He continued to explain. “It is a seer’s duty to reveal the veiled truth, but there are many of us who would rather live in denial and are stubbornly resistant to change. Still, seers have always held a pivotal role in Undermount’s society and progression forward. They see the golden threads of destiny that bind us all.”

She nodded as she thought his words over, chewing on her lip as the carriage came to a halt.

“Ah, we’re here.” Tyril stood and she got up after him, stepping out onto the paved stone path.

Before them was the Scrying Hall, a large building carved from gold with a tall spire in the centre that reached skyward and glistened where it caught the morning sunlight. Two shorter towers were positioned on either side, with intricate markings etched into their surface and silver vines framing the arched windows.

The pair climbed a curved set of stairs that led up to the open entryway and headed inside, where the high ceiling formed a pointed arch overhead, and a circular window at the far end of the hall had been cast in stained glass. It formed a brilliant sun, made up of vivid shades of yellow and orange that flooded the room with light and reflected shifting patterns that danced across the polished floors below.

“I’ve been expecting your arrival.” An elven woman approached them, with smooth, hazel skin and eyes the pale gold of the sun at dawn. She wore a set of amber robes with flowing sleeves accentuated with gilded thread, and long skirts that swept across the floor as she walked. Her auburn hair was woven around her head in a sunlit coronet, resembling the deep reds of the sky at sunset, and a light circlet rested upon her brow.

Tyril stepped forward, bowing his head in greeting. “Claris, of House Sunscryer.”

She returned the gesture politely before turning her attention towards Raine. “I’ve heard much about you, Champion of the Light.”

Raine took a surprised step back. “I’m no champion.”

Claris watched her reaction carefully, and a faint glimmer twinkled in the seer’s eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “Not yet, perhaps. Though those rare few blessed by the Light seldom shy away from uprooting corruption and conquering darkness where it stands, should they choose to rise to the challenge.”

From beside her, Tyril cleared his throat. “I assume you know why we’re here?”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “If you could follow me, please.”

Claris led them to a concealed part of the hall where a swaying curtain next to a series of ivory pillars obscured the large object behind it from view.

“How long ago did your visions begin?” She asked, rearranging a cluster of small crystalline vials filled with various elixirs, catching the sunlight from where they sat on a polished tray upon a silver cart.

“Since the Dreadlord was defeated, though they’ve been getting worse for the past month.” Raine answered, trying to keep her voice steady as she focused on the seer’s actions. “At first they seemed hazy and I could barely make out what was happening, so I assumed they were connected to our fight against the Shadow Court since we were all still recovering from what happened.”

She shifted her attention towards Tyril. “But over time they grew more vivid and strange, like the world was warped around me. I’d see strange figures emerging from the dust, the world on fire and the sky wreathed in darkness.”

She was about to tell them about what she saw last night, but stopped herself. Perhaps it was better to keep that one to herself for now. Or at least until she gained a better understanding of what it had meant.

Claris nodded as she turned back towards them, and lifted her hand to withdraw the curtain. Above a sturdy podium was a large, spinning altar, emitting a golden light and surrounded by shining rays that resembled the midday sun.

“Is this similar to the celestial altar?” Raine asked, noticing it shared a resemblance to the one in the Grand Library.

“Similar, but not the same.” Claris replied, carrying a few scrolls over towards the closest table. “This is a sun altar, so where the celestial altar draws its power from the cosmos, this one harnesses the energy of the solar light above us.”

She paused for a moment in thought. “They also serve different purposes. The celestial altar specialises in the past and that which has already been preserved, showing us memories that have long since passed. The sun altar focuses on the future, showing us what has yet to come, or what may be.”

Raine exhaled with relief at her words. If the visions from her nightmares were not yet set in stone, then perhaps she could still prevent the horrors she had seen from taking hold in reality.

“Now,” Claris smiled, her eyes gentle. “If you could place your hands on the altar’s surface?”

Tyril gave her a reassuring nod and she stepped forward, doing as Claris instructed. The sun altar was warm beneath her touch, exuding a light heat that she could feel pulsing with life and energy beneath her fingertips. She took a deep breath in, preparing herself for what might happen next.

“This spell will allow me to gain further insight into your visions and what they mean, which will hopefully provide me with the information I need to guide you.” Claris said as she moved to the opposite side of the altar. “Since I’m casting as the recipient, you shouldn’t experience much on your end, if anything at all. If you do see anything let me know once we’ve finished, whatever we see here will determine your next course of action.”

Raine nodded and closed her eyes while Claris tucked a loose strand of hair behind a tapered ear. She murmured an incantation under breath that was too low to hear, before her eyes turned a vibrant gold that soon lit up the whole area and flooded the room with light.

Several minutes passed as Raine kept concentrating on the warmth surging through her hands. At this point she hadn’t experienced anything unusual, until an image began to flicker behind her eyes, wavering like a reflection in a pond.

She saw a series of marble pillars engraved with gold lining a grand staircase, at the top of which stood a pair of imposing, gilded gates. Just as quickly as it appeared, the image dissipated like smoke and she opened her eyes to find herself standing in front of Claris once more.

“You saw them as well.” The seer observed her reaction. “The Gates of Elhalas.”

With the spell complete, Tyril stepped up beside them. “The Land of the Gods? Why would Raine’s visions be connected to the realm of the ancients?”

“Morella is not the only realm under threat.” Claris spoke solemnly. “But it soon will be. Your dreams are more than warnings, Raine. They are a glimpse of what is to come if we do not take immediate action, or else the world will collapse at our peril.”

Raine looked towards Tyril. “We’re ready, we’ll do what needs to be done.”

Claris nodded. “Then if you wish to save this world, you will need guidance from the gods, and that means travelling directly into their realm.”

“But how?” She asked. “I thought Elhalas was where the spirits of the ancestors lived after passing on, and we’re…very much alive.”

“Under regular circumstances, you would be correct. But you are a Realm-walker, Raine. You’ve been infused by the Light and are capable of far more than you can even begin to imagine.”

Tyril placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Think of what you did in the Realm of Shadow, that great feat was only the beginning. If the Gods have granted you a vision of the Gates to Elhalas, then that is where we must begin.”

Raine entwined her fingers with his, taking a moment to savour their shared strength. As long as he was by her side, uncertainty didn’t dare stir within her heart. “I’m ready.”

Closing her eyes, she focused solely on conjuring the image of the gates in her mind, envisioning them with clarity until she felt a strong heat radiating from in front of her. When she looked up, a shimmering portal had appeared before them.

It looked different than the one that had led to the shadow realm. Where that portal had been a swirling vortex of red lightning and dark energy, this one burst with light. A golden mist surrounded them, like the sun peering through the clouds after rainfall, emitting a soft, hazy glow that felt warm against her skin.

“Is that really…” Raine trailed off as she stood entranced, and when she reached her fingertips out to touch the portal, it rippled and a shower of vapour lightly poured down around them.

Tyril beamed at her, his eyes shining with pride. “I never had any doubt in my heart.”

“The portal will lead you to Elhalas.” Claris said. “I must be on my way, as should the two of you.”

“Wait,” Raine turned towards her. “What about—”

“Another will be able to answer your questions in further depth.” She interrupted with a knowing smile. “I was merely a stepping stone in your path ahead.”

Raine nodded. “I can’t thank you enough, for all your help.”

“Be careful,” Claris warned. “The gods play chess, and we are the pawns they wield.”

With a dip of her head, the seer turned and departed from the room, leaving the two of them standing alone in front of the portal.

“Are all seers so mysterious?” Raine asked and Tyril chuckled, before the weight of what lied before them began to settle in.

“I can’t believe we’re really going to Elhalas,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “This is bigger than just the two of us now.”

Tyril reached for her hand, and the warmth of his touch made her stomach flutter. “Nothing is too big for the two of us,” he breathed. “We’ve conquered more darkness than anyone will ever know, and we will do it again, together.”

Raine smiled down at their interlaced fingers. “Together,” she repeated, and hand-in-hand they stepped through the portal, determined to face the unknown that awaited them.

Stepping through the portal had felt like passing through a fine veil of fog, and when they emerged on the other side they were met with a great, blinding surge of light until it slowly faded and they found themselves in the middle of a grand courtyard.

Around them, pale crystals embedded in the white stone walls pulsed with a faint glow, illuminating the golden flowers that bloomed along lush green vines in the sunshine.

The Gates of Elhalas loomed overhead, casting a tall shadow on the staircase below, and bringing attention to the two figures who descended it.

“The glittering stars above and shifting sands below have long been awaiting this moment,” a lilting voice spoke. “If only we could be meeting under more fortunate circumstances.”

Though Raine had not met them before outside of stories and songs, there was no mistaking the two courageous warriors from Kade’s tales who had led the charge against the Shadow Court’s forces; the elven king Xaius and battlemage Ellara.

The pair looked even more valiant than she had imagined. Ellara, no longer a battlemage but instead now a goddess, wore a shimmering pale blue dress adorned with silver beads strung together like moonlit pearls. She still wore the sapphire circlet from her days as Xaius’ second-in-command nestled among her red-brown hair, falling in waves over her shoulders.

The former elven king stood tall beside her with the imposing stature only a noble could possess, his golden robes lined with jewels any human would envy and his long, pale hair was swept back. Raine assumed godhood was not so different from leading an empire, with people singing your praises and a duty to guide and serve them during times of need.

Next to her, Tyril stammered for a brief moment before bowing lowly, and she swiftly did the same.

“Heroes of the great empire, we are most honoured by in your presence.” He spoke with great reverence, but Ellara quickly ushered them both back up, her silver bracelets chiming with the motion.

She smiled, though it looked almost sad. “Thank you, but while our legend still carries on, very few remember that we were mortal, once.” She shook her head. “It was difficult for us to adjust to our new positions. An honour, of course, but with eternity at your fingertips it can be challenging to discern between what is and what once was.”

“As reigning king when the empire fell, I felt as though I had failed my people.” Xaius spoke. “I often contemplated the faults in my rule, thinking I could have prevented the war if I had guided my people better. Ultimately, it’s those who turned their backs on us in search of greater power that are to blame.”

Ellara frowned. “They were a blight on our people’s legacy and everything we stood for. It only takes the selfish misdeeds of a few to cause a millennia’s worth of destruction and strife.” She took a deep breath, regaining her composure. “We cannot thank you enough for succeeding where we failed, but unfortunately the war is not yet over.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Raine said. “To end it for good, so no one suffers further.”

Ellara dipped her head before moving aside to allow them both up the staircase. “Then it is our honour to welcome you, saviours of the realm, to Elhalas.”

With a sweep of her arm, the gates behind them slowly began to open at her command. Raine had never even dared to imagine what the land of the gods may have looked like, but if the Golden City was the jewel of the ancient elven empire, then Elhalas was its treasury.

Aureate towers and ivory spires arched high into the sky and the sunlight above turned everything a glistening pale gold, as though the city had been carved from the first rays of light at dawn. Expansive gardens harboured marble temples with vibrant flowers and trees bearing silver fruit, while shimmering turquoise waterfalls fell into vast, flowing rivers.

The rolling emerald hills in the distance seemed as though they could stretch onward forever if it weren’t for the hazy golden mist barring their path on the far horizon, capturing the entire city in its glow like a magnificent spell.

“It’s hard to believe places like this once actually existed in Morella.” Raine said to Tyril in awe while gazing out at the breathtaking view. “It looks like something from a painting.”

“More beautiful, even.” He glanced towards her and smiled before turning his attention back to the view. “Unfortunately, paintings are the only way they now live on in our memories, but I believe it is better to preserve than to forget.”

Ellara and Xaius led them down into the city, where a golden path led them past towering statues, flowering bushes and water fountains. Around them, the elven spirits that inhabited Elhalas barely even acknowledged each other in passing, drifting by without so much glancing towards anyone.

As lovely as their surroundings were, Raine noticed how Tyril’s expression slowly filled with sorrow the further they ventured through the city.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, reaching for his hand.

“I thought…” He trailed off. “I thought perhaps things would be different here, that our people would have learned from the sacrifices made during the Great War. I hoped they would grow past their prejudices and mistakes,” he sighed, “but perhaps there are some things even death cannot change.”

“Many have been here since before the war and know only selfishness.” Xaius said. “Though even those who gave their lives on the forefront did not necessarily have noble intentions.”

Raine tilted her head. “What’s more honourable than sacrifice?”

“You misunderstand,” he spoke gently, “most of our people were not willing to give their lives out of duty, but pride.”

“Deshana el zentana.” Tyril spoke solemnly. “Death before dishonour.”

His words hung heavy in the air until Ellara spoke. “Although our empire may have met a dark end, there were many bright moments during its time as well.”

“What was it like?” Raine asked, and for a moment Tyril could see a glimpse of her usual self there, ever curious and unburdened by restraint, eager to learn more about their shared culture. He could not deny his own curiosity as well, having grown up in awe of such legendary heroes and tales.

“It was an age of glory,” Xaius said with pride. “Magic flowed through the air, festivals lasted for weeks at a time and banquet halls the size of ballrooms hosted towers of food plentiful enough to feed an army.”

Raine realised how strange it was knowing how others had seen the fall of civilisations she had never even known, and his words made her realise just how young she and Tyril were, for elves.

Though Xaius spoke about the elven empire with pride, she felt a sense of guilt in knowing that while her people had been living prosperously during those times, their empire had been built on the backs of human labour and the orcs had been forced to hide away in the continent’s farthest corners.

She dropped her voice low so only Tyril could hear her. “I mean no disrespect to the empire, but it’s always our people, our legacy. I know the Great War was a tragedy, but what steps had our civilisation taken to get there? They weren’t respected by the other races of Morella, they were feared.”

“They wanted too much.” He said solemnly. “I wonder, when would it ever have been enough for them? To live with an eternal longing that can never be sated casts a heavy shadow on the soul. It is avid greed that leads to everlasting misery, and it’s a difficult cycle to return from.”

Tyril shook his head. “Still, you are not wrong for questioning the principles of the empire. Even before the uprising of the Shadow Court our people had been under the allure of power for centuries, without change their downfall was inevitable.”

They continued onward in silence, until Raine was struck with a question. “I never really thought about it before,” she whispered, “but what did Ellara and Xaius become gods of after their ascension?”

“Xaius became known for his wisdom and clarity, and as such has often been called upon during times of counsel, particularly within debates or concerning political matters.” Tyril explained. “Ellara has become associated with the subconscious realm, the power of dreams and prophecy.”

Dreams. Raine found the word echoing in her mind before she raised her voice enough for Ellara to hear. “Was it you? Who sent me those dreams?”

The goddess turned to face her, surprised by the suddenness of her question before a flicker of respect shone in her gaze. “You’ve always been a clever one, Raine.”

“But why?”

Ellara frowned. “I would have conveyed my messages to you differently if I could, but unfortunately dreams were the only means I had of connecting with you. It was the only way I could warn you of the danger we all face, and for that you needed to see it for yourself.” Her expression filled with sorrow. “I’m truly sorry, for all the pain they caused you.”

“And the winged figure in the shadows?” She asked. “Who was that?”

Ellara exchanged a worried glance with Xaius before turning her attention back towards Raine. “I never sent a dream like that.”

“So you mean…it came from somewhere else?”

Ellara opened her mouth to answer but before she could speak, the ground beneath them began to quake, trembling the land and knocking both Raine and Tyril off their feet.

It passed as suddenly as it had arrived, but neither Xaius nor Ellara seemed to react to it, as though it were a regular occurrence.

“What was that?” Tyril asked as he helped Raine back up from the ground.

Xaius cleared his throat and turned away. “Elhalas has been suffering from…tremors as of recent, but I assure you, everything is under control.”

Raine couldn’t shake the feeling that everything wasn’t under control, and glanced out towards the hills, where the golden mist shimmered far beyond.

“That mist on the horizon,” Tyril said as he followed her gaze. “It serves as a barrier of sorts, doesn’t it?”

“What would you need protecting from here?” She asked.

“The mist is a type of protective shield that surrounds the city, it has been in place ever since Elhalas came into existence.” Xaius waved their concerns aside. “It merely serves as a precaution.”

More questions flittered through Raine’s mind but, getting the impression she wouldn’t be able to coax any further information on the matter from either of them, she kept her mouth shut until the group reached the end of the path.

Before them was a glistening tower that rose high above the rest of the city, watching over it as a divine protector. A golden staircase led to a plateau lined with evergreen trees that swayed in the gentle breeze, and a row of silver fountains adorned the gardens near the entryway, sunlit waters spilling over the edges.

“I’m afraid this is as far as we can lead you,” Ellara said. “The Old Gods will guide you from here.”

Raine frowned. “You’re not coming with us?”

“The Old Gods possess far more knowledge on the threat before us than we are familiar with.” She explained. “They’ll be able to ensure you’re prepared for what is to come. Since we once had a connection to the mortal realm, we were entrusted with bringing you here to begin your journey.”

Tyril bowed his head. “We thank you for all you’ve done to guide us.”

“Please, be careful.” Ellara’s brows furrowed in sorrow. “Our people have suffered enough.”

Xaius and Ellara bid them farewell before turning back down the path, leaving them to gaze up at the looming tower.

All Raine knew was that with a mysterious winged figure lurking in the shadows, sudden earthquakes and a protective barrier warding the city, something was coming for Elhalas.

Something even the gods themselves feared.

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

So the day has come and I will finally put my hands on one of the most beloved scenes from Thermidor.

I would like to dance scene first captures our attention by being a first clear instance of a respite after an over hour long, increasingly more intense monologuing by the Comsal. I would argue, that this is not the first one, but that one is hard to miss, as it’s soemthing which happens between the lines and more in the stage directions/actors’ expressions and is easy to miss or to not include in a staging altogether. This one is, however, refreshing and calming without any other drama going on between the phrases.

The first thing, which in my opinion makes it standout from other „nice” scenes from either The Danton Case or Thermidor is that it truly loses it grandiloquent tone. When in TDC Robespierre talks with Saint-Just or when he tries to reach out to Camille there is alway a lot at stake, and their is always some or other ulterior (not necessarily: bad) motive going on symultaneously. Here the issue had been resolved completely right before this scene – which makes it right, I think to call it a separate scene in its own right. Yes, Przybyszewska did nothing more than to divide the play in two Acts, but I think it’s mostly due to the play being unfinished; if she had sufficinet time to get back to it, I’m sure she’d put some other system in place (the room doesn’t change so perhpas she left it as a continous streams of „scenes” rather than divide it, as to not break the unity of place? Mayhaps, but I still think the division is visible and barely seamless).

First of all, I’d like to point out, that while all in all I do like Bolewsław Taborski’s translation of this scene (I have it memorized and it really flows from the tongue very well when spoken), there are few points in which I would have made small changes (marked red). This is becase sometimes the meaning of the whole phrase lies in either this or that word, and the difference is small in size, but absolutely crucial.

·         You did lose your composure at last. vs In the end you did lose your composure.

Here it is more important that Robespierre’s tensions boiled in him, and that Saint-Just egged him on to the point of an outburst than the outburst had happened at the end of something. It shows us that these emotional turmoils do exists in Robespierre and torment him as much as they do any other man, but that he doesn’t let it show on his face, unless he’s being pressured by someone who knows what to say exactly and which buttons to press to achieve the goal. It also workes much better in conveying a supposedly smug expression on Saint-Just’s face, a tone which we can assume is triumphant, while Taborski’s phrase make it look more like a calm recounting.  Here it begins to unfold in front of us that Saint-Just isn’t immovable, that he is in fact quite an easy going person when faced by no one else but the person who knows him most closely and intimately.

 ·         A truly consolidating feeling. vs A truly refreshing feeling.

I admit that this one is mostly a personal choice, becasue in a dicctionary, pokrzepić is, in fact to refresh. But as a native speaker I just know that pokrzepić is less ethreal, it’s in a fact a very grounding, calm and solid word. It works as a contrast between the increasingly playful vocabulary Saint-Just presents and the still calm and more cautios about displaying emotions Robespierre. This is a tiny detail working as a characterisation.

·         Hands folded one onto another vs crossed hands

This one, in turn, seems to me to be pivotal. Hands which are crossed send a message of denial, anger, refusal and so on. Hands folded onto one another are more about being calm and at ease, and about acceptance. This can still be resolved through proper stage movements, but I’ve yet to see it done properly (HERE I talk about why the hand folding and head leaning back is extremely important).

·         I would have to feel ashamed. vs I would be ashamed.

The difference is small, but striking. You feel ashamed out of your own volition (even if it’s influenced by the environment), but if you have to feel ashamed, does it not mean that you don’t necessarily see the need for shame, but that your environment does and is forcing you into this emotion? That’s the way I see it and in my opinion it subtly kets us know that while Robespierre, for one, sees nothing wrong with the situation currently unflding between the two, he knows it would not be met with proper understanding from other people. I may be reading too much into it, but I would have to see the German original.

·         I am too occupied with trying to win you back again. vs I am too occupied with trying to find you again.

So this allows us a glimpse into the untold life behind the curtain that Robespierre and Saint-Just have – and share. Zdobyć literally means to win, i’s something you could say about a prize. Finding (even finding agains) doesn’t have the same air of grandeur about it, finding may be accidental, winning, however – is something achieved through a sense of purpose. We now see in its entirety that Saint-Just isn’t taking any of this lightly, no matter his smile or his playful expressions. He has won Robespierre in the past, and then he’s lost him, and now he is adamant to win him back again. This is no small thing – this is his life purpose, his prize.

·         Wait! Don’t disturb me, Maxime... vs But...! You mustn’t interrupt me, Maxime...

Here the difference is again pretty optional, but I like the personal feeling my version evokes, the familiarity/intimacy. By removing mustn’t we remove the tone of an order, something which is cold and distant. Yes, Saint-Just is disappointed in Robespierre’s reaction (even though, if you had read the post I had referenced, it is completely understandable), but that doesn’t mean it offends him in any way, therefore there is no need to assume a cold pose.

Now, with verbal details out of the way, I would like to focus on the tone of the scene as a whole.

When I talk about intimacy, I’m being very serious and straightforward. While I am the last person to make everything about sex and even rarely see things in a sexual context, here I had never any doubts that Maxime and Antoine spoke in code – if we can even say it was a code, for it was all so plain.

First of all, I’m not even talking about the „you would like to sleep” bit, because while it didn’t call for a separate bullet point on my list, the expression that was used in Polish was rather „to fall asleep”, without any sexual innuendos. This is the familiarity at work, not intimacy, it is a reference to Robespierre enormous tiredness, one of which Saint-Just was all too often a witness to. Antoine’s heart and mind ar at ease at the moment,s so he would like to extend this calmness to Maxime and offer him – even though he knows it will more than likely be refuted – some of this relaxation, too. What he doesn’t expect, I think, is that Maxime takes him up on that offer but with a twist, and turns a conversation which could have remained friendly into something from an another, flirty level.

I’m assuming that everyone and their mother already knows this, but la petite mort is an expression used in French to describe an orgasm/a feeling after an orgasm. I’m not saying that by saying that he would like to die now Maxime is making a direct request/offer, but he sure is making a clear enough reference – which is why I always imagined Saint-Just’s reply to be said with laughter rather than completely seriously. Not to mention, the rest of this exchange makes another dig at it: I will argue that „a sublime thing looking for means of escape” is another sex reference, or at the very least could be read that way. This is of course too much for Maxime, whose prudish nature in this regard was already explored at depth in The Last Nights of Ventose.

The last thing I would like to talk about is a small, internal reference which I think this scene is making:

When at the end Maxime complains about trying to get through the conversation with „a broken neck” I think it serves (even if inadverently) two purposes. One is, of course, to cut the conversation short and get to the bottom of the political intrigue, which is what is more pressing and interesting to him than any flirting could ever be. The second, however, brings to my memory the scene at the end of The Danton Case, where Saint-Just tells Robespierre that he has broken his spine.

ROBESPIERRE [His legs give way under him. He sits at the edge of his bed.] Oh, you have finished me, you know.

SAINT-JUST [leaves the table, walks aimlessly] And you have broken my back.

In the original he actually says: And you havebroken my spine. A spine is, of course, an extension of the neck in terms of anatomical built, and so I believe these two instances should be compared side by side. It is very telling (though I may not yet know what it is exactly they are saying) that Robespierre metaphorically breaks Saint-Just’s spine when they are fighting, but Antoine, in turn, (a bit less) metaphorically breaks his neck when they are makin up. Is this a foreshadowing, that no matter what they are doing and no matter the turn their conversation is taking, they are doomed?

[kodzumie-archived]

please can u spare a couple of mikan hcs w an s/o who adores her?? please my crops are dying,,, tysm

❝ADORATION❞

Synopsis; Mikan with an s/o that adores her.

Featuring; Mikan Tsumiki x GN! Reader

Warning(s); None! Just fluff with best girl, Mikan.

Kodzumie’s Note; Your crops shall live for another day! I always, always, always will spare writing for Mikan. Ahh, thank you so much for requesting for her! I hope you’ve had a great day today. Take care, anon! <3

➤ MIKAN TSUMIKI

⤷ To say she was astounded is an understatement. Mikan is truly unable to fathom how you someone like you could like her. Much less, adore her.

⤷ But, from the bottom of her heart, she appreciates it and cherishes every ounce of your affections entirely. And she attempts to reciprocate it in full, but it’s hard to compete with your overwhelming conveyance.

⤷ Showering her in metaphoric seas of compliments, it’s never a challenge to fluster the tenuous nurse. Her delicate, pallid features brushed upon with roseate as she attempts to withhold her composure. But your ministrations are too much for her poor, little heart to handle.

⤷ For every time you’ve made a momentary stop at the nurse’s office between classes, she swears her heart melts with every moment she sees you. Some breaks, you walk into the office with a rose twirled between your thumb and index finger, holding it out before you towards the bearer of your heart.

⤷ Of course, Mikan will deny taking the flower at first, claiming that it’d be much better given to someone else rather than her. But you silence her upon clasping your hands above her own, ever-so gently placing the florescent blossom between her fingers. Truly, it mesmerizes her the sheer dedication you’ve shown to someone as meek as her.

⤷ Some days, you stop by the office with a piece of paper between your hands; a drawing. Presenting it to your girlfriend with an eager grin upon your face, you explain that it was, in fact, a drawing of her.

⤷ Instantaneously, she begins to compliment your drawing, regardless of your skill level. She’s genuinely enamored that someone would take the time out of their day to draw her, of all people.

⤷ But her questions are answered with your rambles; your rambling about her. It’s strange. Foreign, even. It’s an entirely new situation for her to be put in as she listens to you gush about all that you admire about her. Vividly describing that the enchanting flecks of stardust within her eyes were simply too beautiful not to draw.

⤷ From your words alone, Mikan’s heart resonated within her chest as she attempted to muster coherent sentences, but the shock was still fresh within her mind. You thought she was beautiful. And, by your very own words; “No drawing or photo could ever capture your beauty, Mikan.”

⤷ And yet she’s surprised to say that-that isn’t even the best of them. You’ve surpassed her expectations and have smothered her in a love she’d deemed foreign; care she could only describe as exotic.

⤷ The days in which you’d stop by the nurse’s office with empty hands were her favorite; that day, you’d brought nothing. Only yourself to greet her presence, and yet, you still manage to engulf her in your adorations with a tidal wave of pure passion.

⤷ Those days, you’d draw her in close. The smile settling upon your lips was once she hoped to be blessed to see for years to come, a gentle smile reserved solely for her eyes as you cradle her face within your hands. Your touch was delicate; holding Mikan’s face as though she were glass, ready to shatter. And sometimes she truly believed that under your intense love, she’d crumble.

⤷ And that’s what she’d adored about you; the way you’d overwhelmingly underwhelm your affections so that she could handle them. You understood that sometimes the abundance of affection was hard to handle, flustering her to the brink of a mental breakdown as she processes the―unfortunately―foreign compassion.

⤷ Thus, you envelop her lips within yours, pulling her in for a serene, fleeting kiss. Within that moment, time had slowed. The seconds ticking in subtle reverse as she savors the sensation of your lips atop her own, occasionally parting to overlap once more.

⤷ And yet, even as you leave, the love that frolics within your eyes doesn’t cease. In fact, it intensifies. The glow of adoration emitting from your hues as your lips part from hers is a hypnotic sight for her, nearly forcing her within a  trance as she swallows in the affection within your gaze alone.

⤷ So it surprises her that your affection never seems to cease; an eternal flame of your desire burning solely for her. An ember in which she promises she’s undeserving of, yet you cling onto the belief—the truth she’s been hindered blind to—that she is deserving of this love. She is worthy of affection.

⤷ Even as you take her out to the café she’d subtly informed you of, hoping to visit it one day, she’s perplexed as to why you’d bother keeping in mind such an unimportant detail. Furthermore, why would you take her to the place she’d claim she’d been hoping to see?

⤷ But as you take her hand within hers—gently—allowing her to let go if she wishes, you inform her thay you wanted to see her reaction. To be able to witness her excitement from a front-row perspective, and bask in your girlfriend’s excitement over the pastries.

⤷ Mikan attempted to insist that a date spent on her would be a mere waste, but you’d opened the door for her with a grin before she could protest. Bowing your head in caricature to formality, giggling as your girlfriend hesitantly entered, following after her.

⤷ Amidst the comforting atmosphere, baristas calling out names of customers per order and the lofi beat droning within the background of the clatter, the café had been comforting. Mikan’s tender, lavender hues inspecting the confinements of the shop with the faintest of smiles.

⤷ Resting your chin within your hand, you gaze upon her features. All of which illuminated by the hanging lights of the establishment, accentuating her regal locks as she twirls a strand around her index finger. Her gaze fixed upon the doodles of the chalkboard announcing today’s special.

⤷ She appeared at ease; delight engulfing her within the confinements of the café. And with your eyes trained upon her contentment, you couldn’t help but bask in her ripples of joy that’d passed upon you in wishful washes; a wish to capture this moment forever.

⤷ So that’s exactly what you do. Retrieving your phone from the compartments of your bookbag, you swipe left of your lock screen, opening the camera app.

⤷ And without a moment of the ethreality to waste, you raise your phone and snap a picture; capturing wht you deemed as the essence of true beauty. Yet upon the shuttering of a camera, Mikan swiftly directs her head towards you, a somewhat panicked expression upon her fragile features. You almost feel bad for startling her, however, the photo within your phone album is the sight of a lifetime.

⤷ With furrowed brows, Mikan questions what you’d taken a picture of. To which she hadn’t expected you to flip your screen towards her, displaying the photograph before her very eyes.

⤷ It was her. Sitting across the table with a far-off gaze upon the front counter, within her hands resides her own phone as a faint smile laces her lips. Her free hand twisting her hair between her fingertips as she seems so peaceful; at last, she’s at ease. It was a picture of your girlfriend—Mikan—amidst her most serene of moments.

⤷ At first, she’s silent. Simply gazing upon your screen as though she were attempted to decipher whether or not she was encaged within a dream; a vividly torturous dream in which she’d been fooled with the illusory affection you’d always provided her.

⤷ But that silence morphs into mumbles; questioning. It’s a repetitive and Pavlovian reaction from your lover, yet you never seem to alter your answer to her inquiry; why had you taken a picture of her?

⤷ Because why would your answer change? If there was one thing you’ll leave this world with a true belief in, it’s that your girlfriend is an enchanting individual. Her heart a garden of kind blossoms for those in need; eyes painted with stardust as the underlying euphoria within her orbs rivaled every constellation; the brush of her fingertips upon yours eliciting a jolt through your heart. In every way imaginable, Mikan was utterly celestial.

⤷ So, with your head held high, you reply with such confidence it’s as though the words that escape your lips are from the heart—in which they are—spoken only to her. “Because you’re beautiful, of course.”

⤷ And it’s words like these that Mikan has noticed you’d chant. Time and time, again, you insist that she’s one-of-a-kind; a treasure truly unforgettable.

⤷ With such frevor, you douse yourself in the mantra of her worth, promising her value is beyond that of what she’s been deluded to. It’s your persistence—your unwavering sense of veracity—that pushes Mikan to believe that perhaps she’s beyond that of a disposable being.

⤷ She’s pushed to believe that perhaps there’s a mutual gratification within your love; she’s not the only one who’d fawned upon the possibility of being wanted, especially by someone of the likes of you. She’s pushed to believe that perhaps the love you’d withheld for her was true.

⤷ A bond—in its entirety—as genuine as the feeling of your hand atop hers within that very moment. Clasping your hands atop hers, you cradle the limb with such an overwhelming amount of care, Mikan couldn’t fight against the quiver of her lips as you tenderly gazed within her eyes.

⤷ Your voice subtle as it barely resonated within the encompass of the café, yet ever-so assertive. Without a fraction of hesitation—gaze unwavering from her own—you allow the Pavlovian words to escape from your lips. Yet, unlike every other moment you’d voiced them, for once, they’re processed.

⤷ Months spent in denial of your fragility towards her; your contrasting tending to her needs; indulging in her wants; smothering her in endless conpliments; lovingly longing gazes cast upon her. After months of having spent within the confines of doubt, it seems that the shackles had finally been broken.

⤷ In that very moment, within the café you’d took the liberty to remember in order to appease to her personal interests, you’d confessed once more; “I love you.” And it’s a confession finally processed by your lavender-eyed lover; a confession finally processed after months of denying the veracity of your love.

⤷ And as you cradled her hands within your own, the ever-lasting love laced within your eyes as they meet hers, she reciprocates your affections at long-last as the words that doused her lips interlocked with the tears cascading from her eyes. “I love you too.”

[honey-subs]

Can I request pegging mingi where he addresses the reader as mommy and he gets overstimulated into a crying orgasm with really fluffy aftercare? 🥺

movie - song mingi

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

⤷pairing - mingi x reader

⤷genre - smut

⤷summary - you find out just how subby mingi is

⤷warnings - sub!mingi, dom!reader, overstimulation, fluffy aftercare, mommy kink

⤷note - i hope it’s okay i left out pegging because i made it so that it’s his first time 🥺 also, could y’all please follow @jooniecentric! it’s a side blog i made dedicated to sub!joon!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

both you and mingi were on your bed, watching a movie, though the movie was simply background noise as you and mingi drowned it out with your voices. cracking jokes, telling stories, etc. the both of you were just having a simple, fun movie night together.

eventually, the conversation flowed into comfortable silence as you both simply took a moment to look at eachother and appreciate one another. mingi couldn’t help but stare at your lips, and you noticed, already knowing where his train of though was. so you allowed it, you allowed mingi to lean forward slowly, his lips moving in sync with yours. there was a small fight for dominance, but you allowed him to take the lead; wanting to test how far this could truly go.

he pushed you softly onto the mattress, leaning over you. he continued the kiss, shaky hands trailing to the hem of your shirt. he pulled away quickly with blushy cheeks and a sigh. “mingi? are you okay?” you asked, wondering where the change of attitude came from. “i-i’m sorry.” he apologized, still avoiding your gaze.

“what are you apologizing for?” you asked, placing two fingers under his chin to lift his face up. “i was worried about disappointing you, so i tried to be dominant, but i just couldn’t. i’m sorry.” he continued to apologize. “it’s okay if you’re not dominant...” you tell him, this time swinging a leg over his thighs. you push him back to the mattress. “...because i am.” you finish.

you placed a kiss on his jawline, going down farther until you reached his upper neck. you took pride in the way his breath hitched when you were so close to him, and you could practically feel his heart beat out of his chest as he anticipated your next move. “relax, baby. i won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” you tell him, using your hand to caress his cheek softly. he leans into your soothing touch, and relaxed almsot immediately. “it’s okay, i trust you.” he says with a small but nervous smile. you hummed softly, resuming your previous actions.

you ease his boxers down the best you could with your current position, and tossed them in a random direction, the same with his shirt. “you’re so pretty, mingi.” you priase him, looking down at him and his body in pure love and adoration. he was waiting obediently and patiently for you to make a next move, but the bulge rubbing against you told you otherwise.

knowing that, you grind against him, and he lets out a gasp up unexpectance. he let his head fall back against the pillows as he let out soft moans. he’s pouting when you suddenly stop, opening his eyes to see you sitting between his legs, and spreading them open. he watched with attentive eyes as you pull down his boxers, finally freeing him from the confinement of the material.

his tip was a pretty color of red and it was swollen, messy with precum. your hands find their way to his cock. he shudders when he feels your hand, head once again falling against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. you keep up a steady rhythm with your hand, and he gets used to the feeling, moans begging to spew from his lips once more.

he was so lost in the feeling of your hands, the submissive headspace making him feel fuzzy as he got closer and closer. he could’ve came right then when he felt your mouth on his cock, slowly moving farther down. he was slowly getting more vocal as he basked in the way your mouth felt on him. he was sure he was gonna cum when he felt your tongue swirl onto the tip. “p-please.” he said, voice strained. “may i cum?” he asked, looking down with a shaky voice as he shyly asked for what he wanted.

you made eye contact with him as if to say ‘yes’, and he definitely got the message because with a drawn out moan, his cock watch twitching and hot ropes of cum was spurting rapidly into your mouth. you made sure to swallow and help him through his orgasm.

you wipe the excess of your mouth, and move back to straddle him. you tell he was in subspace by the fucked out expression on his face. “we’re not done here, baby,” you tell him, grinding in his cock once again, he whines from the sensitivity but you can still feel him getting hard against your ass.

your arousal was basically dripping down your thighs as you lifted yourself up, moving to line up his cock with your entrance. the feeling was almost ethreal as he botttomed out, and you were completely sunken down on him. “s-so good.” he moaned, sensitive from his last orgasm, and hands finding your hips as he gripped them.

his eyes were dialated with pure lust and love as he watched you ride him. you guided one of his thumbs to your clit, helping him rub small circles on the bundle of sensitive nerves. you leaned down to kiss him, the taste of his cum still in your mouth as he tasted himself. he was unable to stop his hips from bucking up into you. you noticed how tears brimmed his eyes, soon falling. you slowed the moment of your hips tremendously. “do you need me to stop!” you asked, using your hand to wipe his tears, “n-no, please don’t stop, p-please...” he whimpered, hips bucking into yours.

you were getting close, and the moves of your hips on him were more rapid and sporadic rather than timed and planned. “m-mommy...” the word spilled from his lips so sultry and sensual, that his words alone pushed you over that peak. you were coming hard. your orgasm set off his own, the feeling of you clenching around him proved to be too much as he fucked into you. with a final moan, the warmth of his cum was filling you up.

you got off of him, and used one of your shirts to clean the cum off of the both of you, and tears were slowing down slightly as you finished. he was till in his submissive headspace. a few caresses of your hands, and fingers through his hair was all it took for him to come back, eyes becoming slightly less glossy and tears stopping flowing all together.

“are you okay, baby? did you enjoy it? do you need anything?” you asked, hands still roaming his body. “i’m fine.” he smiled a small smile. “i did enjoy it, i’m glad you were my first. and can we just cuddle?” he asked, arms wrapping around you. “yes we can, may i change the sheets first?” you asked, helping him sit up and into a nearby chair.

he watches obediently when you quickly change the sheets. he allows you to baby him, as you pull him into the bed, and into your awaiting arms. “i love you, mingi.” you tell him, pulling him even closer to you — if possible — and kissing his forehead. “i love you too, y/n.” he had his head in the crook of your neck as you rubbed his back. “i didn’t know you wanted to call me mommy.” you tease. you could just about feel his cheeks heat up. “shut up . . .” he whined. “but i wouldn’t mind it...” he mumbled, almsot incoherently. “i don’t mind you calling me that, mingi.” you tell him. “good.” he says, holding onto you tighter.

[rainbowsky]

I want to start by saying that I love your perspective on things! You express yourself beautifully! Like many, i fell into this pit after watching the untamed. Tbh, i had a massive crush on LWJ and by extension i found Yibo to be just ethreally exceptional. But slowly as i got deeper and deeper, XZ just pulled at my heartstrings, more than WWX ever did. There is something so beautiful about this human being that it takes my breath away. I am going through some major shit IRL, and i find bith these boys so inspiring. I cant remember the last time someone inspired me. Yibo is just such an amazing role model for hard work, perseverence and spirit of excellence. He makes the impossible look easy. But it is truly XZ that kept me going, becoz he kept going. I saw a great man face great odds with unbelievable dignity, generosity and grace. Something i cant say i ever witnessed before. And i saw him stand tall in front of his red sea at the end of the year, with tears in his eyes and a smile and song on his lips. It made me feel uplifted and blessed.

But do you ever feel like he must be very lonely? Yibo still has his ddu brothers that love him and that he grew up with and he is still able to choose work fairly easily. XZ has no support system like that, plus he has been in seclusion type setting for so long. Trying to fight all this negativity, not being able to do all that he chooses, having to weigh every step a 100 diff ways. My heart just really hurts for him when i think about how incredibly lonely that must feel☹️

Yeah, they are both so incredibly inspiring, together and as individuals.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

But to answer your question, Anon, no. I’ve never once thought of GG as ‘lonely’. There is no planet on which that man is lonely. He is so incredibly kind, loving, generous, fun-loving, interesting, intelligent, energetic, personable... he has, I have zero doubt, many friends who treasure him every bit as much as we do. Many friends we see in front of the cameras, and many we don’t see behind the scenes.

He clearly has a very powerful support system. One that helped get him through the worst ordeals of this past year with his head held high. He has many friends and a very loving, supportive family, not to mention the team he has built around himself who are undoubtedly very loyal and supportive. And even among those around him who aren’t particularly close to him, I have no doubt many are like you and I and would walk through fire for him. And whatever support system DD has, it’s part of GG’s support system as well.

I think it can be tempting to let a feeling take you away into some compelling melodramatic narrative where this besieged person has the world against him and no support and just has to fend for himself pitifully against all odds, but I’d urge people not to get carried away with these types of thoughts. Remember that GG isn’t a character in a drama, he’s a real person. A person who has done many projects and had two entire careers now, and who - with the personality he has - has undoubtedly collected many devoted friends along the way.

Of course he’s probably had painful moments, but he is going to be OK, Anon. Things are already turning around for him.

It’s like he said in this interview, “I’m a man who’s almost 30 years old. I have to self-regulate. I’m not a baby anymore. I don’t need everyone to be like, ‘Baby, are you OK?’”

I want to end this by saying that I really hope your situation improves, Anon. It sounds like you have enormous strength.

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

Doom. Cursed. Dammed.

All i ever Wanted, Was to be Left Alone in the Spirit realm . . . but a Powerful Curse . . . Fate idk, fucking Something the Gray’s Magically find me and Doomed me in thsi Beyond Hellish Exitance. 

The Spirit Realm is a Giant Black Void filled with death Energy, HOW IN THE HELL THAY WHERE ABLE TO BRING A PHYSCAL OBJECT IN A ETHREAL REALITY IS BEYOND ME !!! IT’S A REALM FOR GHOST’S !!! DEAD !!! PEOPLE !!! AND OTHER LIFE FORM’S ! 

( it’s a Pure Ghost Realm ) - ( Omni and beyond Super it’s Pure and Absolutely Paranormal ) 

When you die you got the rite to Rest in Peace or make a Gamble and enter life at your Own Acord. No one can force you . . . . . . and or so i thought.  

Innocent yet Dammed . . . and My fate Look Bleak . . . even if the Gray’s win humanity is no doomed but sent into the Lab’s to get the greatest Upgrade to there soul EVER ! but if thay Lose . . . When then, every one really is fucked . . . 

And Truly Dammed. 

[riftboundwonders]

New ship idea!

Gara is a samurai warrior

Wisp is an oni/spirit goddess, whose beauty entrances those around her.

While everyone is fawning over Wisp, she only has sights for one warrior in particular, Gara.

Wisp watches over Gara like a hidden protector, giving her protective blessings. They fight together, but Gara never truly knows about Wisp until her great success became legend across the plains and the eidolon is put to rest.

Together they fight, Wisp watching Gara's back like a second ethreal skin.

Wisp, the hand.

Gara, the blade.

I call this ship Gipsy.

And honestly? I'm living for it.

[heesgf]

OMG ZEEN!!!! UR PROM IS TMR 😱😱 and your nails look gorgeousss 😍 ik that you will shine like the princess that u are in ur beautiful dress tmr! ✨ i hope everything goes smoothly preparing for prom and that u have a fantastic night my love!!! 💞✨💗💖💫💓 a lil birdie (aka seunghun) told me that gon got a whole corsage for u???? with pink roses and everything to match ur dress??? 🤭 (1/2)

cont’d: he’s rlly nervous for tmr night cuz u ALWAYS look stunning and he can’t even fathom how ethreal his princess zeen will look tmr with ur gown and all 🤩😍🤩 he will most certainly be starstruck but he won’t be reluctant to shower u in kisses! 😘 i love u zeen!!! i hope u have lots of fun 💞💗✨💓💗💕 (2/2)

MADDI U ADORABLE RAY OF SUNSHINE!!!!!😫😫💓💕💖💖💓😰😰💍💍💕💖💓💖💓💘 IM SQUEALING AND MY HEART IS BURSTING WITH LOVE FOR U!!! thank u so much for sending me the sweetest angel energy in the entire world, i LOVE U🥺🥺 you’ve made this such a special night with ur kind words:(((( and omg gon with the corsage and everything PLS😭😭 [how could his corsage beat the beautiful blue one hun got to match YOUR DRESS🤩🤩?!!!?] u are truly😢 the biggest sweetheart in the whole wide world!!! and hun is so lucky to have u omygod :( speaking of hun!!!! THE DEBUT DATE IS FINALY SET HOW DO U FEEL!!!💖💖 he’s planning to give u lots of celebratory cuddles tonight hehe🤭!!!! and again, i ABSOLUTELY LOVEU💕💕💕 thank u for making this such a heartwarming experience, ur my angel!!!!💍

[manuscripts-dontburn]

Just finished ... Longbourn

Longbourn by Jo Baker is a really good book and a quality expansion of a book we all know and love (Pride and Prejudice). 

It certainly strips that book of certain Princessy and ethreal quality, but does not interfere that much with it nor it any way tries to redesign the original characters or story (except they are viewed from the eyes of someone not charmed). 

At the same time I have to admit that I would have liked it even more if it was simply an original book on its own, without the constant visitations from the Pride and Prejudice events, which merely pass by the characters here anyway. 

It was the last part of the book that truly captured my interest, the first two having a few places I found bit dull and slow.

All in all, this was really good. 

4 stars

[thejoonmoon]

im still speechless and i feel so numb right now. they truly outdid themselves with their performance, everything was so ethreal and everything had so much emotion and meaning

[sharrissaerin]

A brief commentary on my spiritual point of view.

The following comments will be repeated on my Facebook wall but here is one of my points of view when it comes to every living mortal human on the face of this earth.

One) I AM a strong believer that GOD IS REAL! Over the many years even when I was still spiritually asleep, God never abandoned me even when I stopped believing in Santa-clause, the Easter bunny, etc... I even stopped believing in God at one point & it took HIM many years to to nudge me back in his direction because at age sixteen, a snot nosed teen brat like me, only believed in whatever I could see, touch smell, hear or taste. The concept of the ethreal, was a very alien thought to me because of how hands on & self absorbed that I had become. yet, for all of his mysterious workings, he still got me back to where I belong. it took me a while yes but upon quiet meditating reflection now that I am much older & possibly wiser, I look back to se all the times when I needed something but even when I also didn’t realize that I needed something & though I never asked God for it & I may not now or ever because he has done enough for me to wake me up, all the times when I was so fortunate, that was HIM looking after me.  

two) That brings me to the point that the Lord Almighty can & has often worked in mysterious ways. So much weird stuff happened to me, too many weird things to list here that don’t normally happen to a normal healthy kid as I was growing up. Adding to it all, I was diagnosed as learning disabled when the truth was that I was sleeping with my eyes wide open, being so much the dreamer to dream with my eyes open wide. My parents seemed unable or unwilling to be more engaging in finding solutions to keep my focus on learning or even bothering to figure out what would kindle the spark of learning within me. I recall now how I wasn’t the normal type of child that asked all the usual curious questions & my parents preferred their dependence upon the expert advice of the child specialists of that time frame INSTEAD of first trying to resolve the issue on their own. Mind you, I only woke up about two years ago in the spiritual; sense & my curious nature was already in full bloom when I was in my mid forties. So, yeah, i am a late bloomer alright but talk about predictive!

One summer...: it was the event of the year during my childhood when the Milford, CT Oyster festival would spill out into the Milford city streets & the police would block off the entire length of the Milford city green so people could walk about the green & cross the streets without being hit by cars. It may have been entitled as an oyster festival but there was plenty more than just oysters being served & so many crafts people having set up so many crafting kiosks on the central city  green itself.

One person would be all about wood crafts & all the things that they worked on all year as part of their hobby cash cow. Another, being en elderly woman that had nothing better to do than to knit all year long in the midst of her senior spare time & she would have knitted items galore to sell! Ironically, while business with the wood-craftsman was fair, you would think that a super warm double knit sweater would not sell well in the intense heat of the day but one did as my practical mother insisted on making me try one on for size & it fit perfect in her opinion as she was already thinking far ahead to the very cold winter yet to come.  

The point being that there were all sorts of crafting people that had worked hard all year to make a product & this was their moment to shine as they sold as much of their built up stock that represented an entire years worth of hard work that paid off so much in a single day. I have both brief & vague memories of my father making polite inquiries on that prophetic day about the profitability of hobby craft earnings though I don’t remember exactly whom he was talking to or what the man was good at making.

Honestly, I was old enough at least smart enough to read so my eye had been caught by a collective of items in a neighboring Kiosk that had so many hand crafted button pins on it with so many different expressions & simple but also humorous logic that I couldn't resist pointing to it while attempting to gain my mothers attention & she looked at them for a moment until her eyes settled on one that was just a simple white button with a hand drawing of a innocent appearing child whom had a flower in his hand that he was holding up to whomever he intended to offer it to & the simple hand printed caption read, “Please be patient, God isn’t finished with me yet.”

My mom saw that & her mind was made up in a split second because I had already been to so many experts that my parents were convinced that I was a lost cause for the time being & it was all up to God at that point since they truly believed that God wasn’t done with me, NOT BY A LONG SHOT! I would have that button pinned to my tee-shirt for a few years until the pin finally broke & it was attached to a cork pin up board in my room since my mother didn’t want to let go of it or the hope that I was just unable to cope beyond a certain point & someday soon, I would finally find a sort of normal while finally being awake enough to understand when the teachers were droning on about some intolerably boring subject!

I did wake up a little when my independent streak finally came about & i had the typical rebellious streak in my teens which is also when I lost my faith in God but it was a far cry from what I was meant to be as I now know that it wasn’t my time back then to wake up. I would have awoken far too soon because not one person was really as aware or spiritually awakened back then since the world didn’t need us to be awake in spite of all the turmoil from the second world war up until now.

Mind you, with the words on the button now hopefully etched into your mind, though it scares the hell out of me on so many levels for every time that I look back to reflect on the fateful day, that was a memory that I had almost completely forgotten.

So, the sobering thought for anyone,especially the heavily intoxicated people that just want to lose themselves as much as possible, God is never done with you even if you think for even a second that you are done now with God. IF he has a plan for you, just like story of Jonah & the whale, IF he gets a hold on you, EVEN if you lose your faith & you way, as long as he has plans for you, you aren’t going to get away from him or the destiny he has in store for you!

As I have already said, once he has you, you are stuck! So, GET HUMBLE. DROP THE EGO TRIP & PRAY TO GOD TO THANK HIM IF YOU HAVE LIVED A CHARMED LIFE AS MUCH AS I HAVE! God has done too much for me to ignore all the signs & the list of synchronous events has greatly increased for me ever since I started to really WAKE UP!! if you are wondering what it is like to live through one synchronous event after another, DON’T!!!

Its like having a whole host of revelations slapping you in the face almost every day for little while & then things settle down for a short time until I become slackish & complacent & then the synchronicity starts all over again! It can really ruin my day unless I truly have become vigilant to stay focused on my goals. Mind you, we spiritually awakened people believe a great many things & one of them is that everything happens for a reason even if you had it all planned out but the day never progressed as you had hoped.

Nuff said for now,

Peace & love to all my spirit siblings & God does care for you.  

[poemsbypetey]

golden gilded gateways to a realm of ethreal

________________________________________

multicolor memories of metaphysical mishaps, yet, the collective idea that Cubensis is the key to what we all see as the way - the way life can truly look if you manifest it to be! If beyond the veil you can see, collective consciousness, source and spirit, gods and guides - where is the paint and color of this picturesque predicament?

blackened brain, hue of grain. what’s gone is lost - cherish the change. for waters of the wind have awoken the flame - a flame with the force of the hidden brain.

pathways gifted to us by the fungi. much like how a lotus grows in mud - this mushroom grows in fecal waste. — but, there’s something special about that. It’s like something golden growing from literal shit... who would have thought the phrase “turn that turd into gold” would hold such levity for me.