#In This Lifetime - Sick Symphonies

[yohopez]

In This Lifetime - Sick Symphonies

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Heartbeat of Autumn

As new parents, Eris and Lyra Vanserra navigate the overwhelming challenges of caring for their newborn son. Amidst sleepless nights, overbearing family, and deep-seated fears they discover the unbreakable bond that comes with parenthood and the strength neither of them knew they possessed.

Content warnings: Postpartum struggles, emotional distress, tense familiar relationships.

Eris peered down at the patch of vibrant ginger hair nestled against his chest, the tiny bundle with porcelain skin swaddled tightly in a blanket, only a rosy hand peeking out from underneath. His son was perfection incarnate—every feature flawless and delicate. From the moment he was born, Thorne had been blessed with a full head of fiery red hair, just like all the other Vanserra boys. But as the weeks passed, some of it had fallen away, leaving behind soft tufts that tickled Eris's fingertips.

With a tender touch, Eris traced his fingers up and down the baby's tiny back, feeling the warmth of his body seep into his own. Thorne gurgled contentedly in his slumber, the sound like a symphony to Eris's ears. Plump lips puckered and parted with each gentle breath, and the sight filled Eris with an overwhelming love for his son.

From the moment Thorne was born, Eris had made a promise to himself: he would devote every waking second to his son. Despite his duties under his father's oppressive rule, Eris refused to be an absent father. He was determined to be there for every milestone and precious moment in Thorne's life, even if it meant going against Beron's expectations of him being "soft and weak". So every diaper change, feeding, burp, and bath was met with Eris's undivided attention and love for his son.

Despite enduring his father's constant verbal tirades, all it took was the warmth of Thorne's tiny body against his chest to make every anxiety and worry simply melt away. The soft skin of his baby boy merged seamlessly with his own, their scents mingling into a delightful mixture of cinnamon and apples.

Eris leaned down, breathing in the familiar scent of his son's hair as it tickled his nose. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, feeling the rise and fall of Thorne's chest against his own. Every detail of this new little life filled him with overwhelming love and joy. Though only two months old, Thorne already felt like a part of Eris that he had been missing for a lifetime. From the moment those bright green eyes opened and Thorne let out his first glorious battle cry, Eris had been reduced to a puddle on the floor. In that instant, he knew he would have been content to die right then and there, as nothing more than Thorne's devoted father—high lordship be damned.

Lyra's pregnancy had been anything but smooth sailing - a demanding and unrelenting trial that tested not only her physical strength, but also Eris's. From the very first month, she was plagued by a debilitating morning sickness that refused to abide by any schedule, often striking at any time throughout the day. The mere smell of food would send her sprinting towards the nearest bathroom, doubled over as she retched into the basin with little relief. She soon gave up on trying to eat anything more than a few sips of broth and small bites of dry bread, her once robust appetite now a distant memory. Eris could do nothing but watch in helpless despair as his beloved mate, the female he wanted to share the world with, seemed to waste away before his eyes. She lost an alarming amount of weight, her once radiant complexion replaced with a pale, sickly pallor and her once curvaceous figure reduced to skin and bones.

When the second trimester finally brought some respite from the sickness, Lyra regained some of her strength and color. However, sleep continued to elude her as their unborn child grew restless within her womb. Every night was a battle against exhaustion as she tried desperately to soothe the baby's constant kicking and squirming. Eris did his best to stay awake with her, sitting in their chambers bathed in the soft glow of firelight, singing tender lullabies in hopes of lulling both mother and child to sleep. His deep voice resonated with love and fervent prayers for their little one to finally find rest so that Lyra could have a moment's reprieve.

As they entered into the third trimester, Lyra's struggle only intensified. Each movement became a monumental effort as her body strained under the weight of her growing belly. Her joints constantly throbbed with pain, every step causing her immense discomfort as if her very bones were on fire. Eris's heart broke a little more each time she winced, her body forced to bear the burdens of pregnancy in ways that seemed almost cruel. Despite the overwhelming challenges, Lyra still managed to smile through the pain and tell Eris how excited she was to meet their little one. Her strained voice held a fierce determination and an unbreakable love that seemed to overshadow all the suffering she endured.

"It’s worth it," she would whisper, her voice trembling with both exhaustion and hope. "All of this is worth it, Eris. I’d endure it a thousand times over just to hold our babe in my arms."

In the crisp, autumn air of a new day, Lyra's labor began. The first hints of frost glinted on the windowpanes of their chambers, a silent but beautiful welcome for the newest member of the High Autumn Family. As she stirred awake, Lyra felt a sharp pain shoot through her lower back, but she dismissed it as just another discomfort in her long and difficult pregnancy. Yet as the morning progressed, the pain intensified, spreading like wildfire across her abdomen and pelvis. By midday, with weak rays of sunlight filtering through the orange and brown leaves on the trees, the contractions had hit full force - deep, wrenching waves that stole her breath and left her gripping the edges of her bed in desperation.

Eris stood by her side, his usually composed and reserved demeanor now cracking under the weight of worry and fear. His mate's face contorted in pain as she struggled through each contraction. Eris had thought he was prepared for this moment, but now as he watched her struggle, he felt a helplessness clawing at his insides like a caged animal. He frantically called for a healer, his voice echoing through the halls with a desperate panic that he couldn't contain.

Lyra's labor was a slow, grueling process, each contraction ripping through her body like a fiery inferno. Her fingernails dug into Eris's skin as she clung to him, seeking any bit of comfort and stability in the midst of the relentless pain. Hours passed, dragging on for what felt like an eternity as she labored through the day and well into the night. The healer's brow furrowed with concern as she checked Lyra's progress, her gentle reassurances becoming strained as each minute ticked by. Lyra's breaths came in short gasps, her strength depleting with each passing contraction. Eris remained steadfast by her side, his grip on her hand tight and unwavering, whispering words of encouragement and love. The only time he left her was when his father summoned him to the court room, insisting that it was not appropriate for a male to be present during the birth of his child. But Eris refused to leave his mate's side, determined to support her in whatever way he could. He calmly informed his father that he was not like any other male and that he would be there for Lyra, and he would witness the birth of his first born.

The pain was an all-encompassing force, a relentless attack on her body that felt as though it were tearing her apart. Lyra cried out, her voice hoarse from screaming through each contraction, her body trembling with exhaustion. She had been told that her body would know what to do, that it was designed for this purpose of bearing children, but now she wondered if her body had never been properly trained for this task. The agony seemed never-ending, consuming her every thought and movement. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lyra's cries turned into desperate pleas, declaring that she couldn't endure any longer and that everything felt wrong. Eris, watching the strain in her eyes and feeling his own heart constrict with fear, knew Lyra was reaching her breaking point.

As the hours ticked by, Lyra's labor seemed to come to a halt. Her body refused to progress, as if frozen in time. The healer's expression grew grim as she quietly explained that the baby was not positioned for an easy delivery, and Lyra's body was struggling to push it down the birth canal. The suggestion of a medical intervention hung in the air like a dark cloud, a decision left to Eris and Lyra as they exchanged desperate glances. But Lyra, with a fierce determination in her eyes, refused to give up. She dug deep within herself and summoned every last ounce of strength she had, gritting her teeth against the pain.

The sun rose and set again, but still, Lyra labored on. The chamber filled with her cries, the calming words of the healer, and Eris's softly whispered prayers to any deity who would listen. His heart broke as he watched his beloved endure each wave of pain, her eyes pleading for relief.

As the sun began to rise on the second day of labor, a sense of urgency and determination filled Lyra's body. Her clothes were drenched in sweat, her hair matted against her forehead as she gasped for breath. The pain was intense, but she could feel her body taking over, pushing her onwards towards the end. Through the haze of agony, the healer's voice rang out like a beacon, guiding her through each contraction. Eris stood by her side, his hand clasping hers tightly as she gave everything she had.

With one final, guttural scream, Lyra pushed with all her might, every muscle in her body straining with a strength she didn't know she possessed. And then, just as the first rays of sunlight broke through the darkness, a cry pierced the air - loud and defiant, filling the room with its power and bringing tears to Eris's eyes.

Thorne had arrived. Their son. Their baby boy, who they had been waiting for with so much love and anticipation.

The healer moved with swift, practiced movements as she swaddled the tiny, squirming, screaming bundle and placed him on Lyra's chest. Her voice was soft with both praise and relief as she spoke to the new mother. Lyra, her body trembling with exhaustion, let out a choked sob as she looked down at her son, who immediately calmed upon feeling the warmth of his mother's skin and hearing the gentle lilt of her voice. The pain, fear, and hours of labor all faded into a distant memory as she gazed into the bright green eyes that met hers with a curious, unwavering stare.

Eris, tears streaming down his face, leaned over the bed to press a kiss to Lyra's sweat-soaked auburn hair. His heart swelled with a fierce love that bordered on painful, his chest tight with a mix of pride, relief, and overwhelming joy. The bond between himself and his son radiated as he felt himself drawn to the small, sweet face just minutes old.

"You did it," he whispered, his voice cracking as he gently brushed her hair from her forehead. "You did it, Lyra." He pressed another kiss to her forehead, savoring the familiar scent of his mate mixed with the new scent of their child.

Lyra smiled through her tears, momentarily forgetting her exhaustion as she cradled their son against her chest. Her fingers traced over the small ginger tufts that marked him unmistakably as a Vanserra. She didn't look at her mate; her focus solely on the newborn baby boy that she had longed to meet for months. "He's here," she murmured in awe, her voice thick with emotion. "He's finally here. We have a son."

The days following Thorne’s birth were a whirlwind of emotions and exhaustion, a blur of sleepless nights and endless moment’s of awe as Eris and Lyra adjusted to life with their newborn. The world outside their chambers seemed to fade into insignificance, their entire universe now centered around the life they had brought into it. Thorne, with his tuft of red hair and bright green eyes, demanded every ounce of their attention, which both mother and father were happy to supply.

But with the joy of Thorne’s arrival came the inevitable challenges. Everyday was a new relentless test of endurance. Thorne seemed to only sleep in short bursts, resting on his mothers chest. He awoke often with hungry cries that echoed through the quiet of night and day. Lyra, still recovering from the grueling labor was exhausted beyond measure, her body aching and sore, her emotions a fragile thing that verged on overwhelming. Eris, despite his best efforts, could do little to alleviate her pain, but he took on as much of the burden as he could, tending to Thorne at every opportunity to give Lyra even a moment to lie down.

He would rise in the middle of the night to the screaming babe, holding his son close as he paced the length of their chamber, humming lullabies, traditional of the Autumn Court that his nursemaids had sung to him. Eris learned quickly how to change a diaper with trembling hands and how to swaddle Thorne just right to ease his fussing. But despite his determination, there were moments when Eris felt the weight of it all—the exhaustion, the fear of being his father, the constant, gnawing worry for Lyra’s wellbeing.

On one particular night, after the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the court, the once-golden leaves outside their chambers were now tinged with deep reds and purples of twilight. Inside, however, the world was far from calm. Thorne’s cried echoed through the room, piercing the silence and fraying Lyra’s already delicate nerves.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Autumn Court, and the once-golden leaves outside their chambers were now tinged with the deep reds and purples of twilight. Inside, however, the world was far from calm. Thorne’s cries echoed through the room, piercing the silence and fraying Lyra’s already delicate nerves.

It had been hours since the last time he had settled, and Lyra was at her wit’s end. She had fed him, changed him, rocked him, and sang to him until her voice was hoarse, but nothing seemed to soothe him. Thorne’s little face was red from crying, his tiny fists clenched as he screamed, the sound grating against her exhausted mind. Every time she tried to pass him to Eris for a moment’s respite, Thorne only screamed louder, his cries reaching a fever pitch until she had no choice but to take him back.

“Lyra, let me take him again,” Eris urged gently, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched her struggle.

But Lyra shook her head, her hands trembling as she clutched Thorne to her chest. “He doesn’t want you,” she whispered, her voice thick with frustration and fatigue. “He just wants me, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything, Eris. I don’t know how to make him stop.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she looked down at their son, whose cries had only grown more desperate. The sound was relentless, a high-pitched wail that seemed to vibrate through her entire body, leaving her feeling raw and frayed at the edges.

Eris moved closer, his hand resting on her back as he tried to comfort her. “Lyra, it’s not your fault. Babies cry—it’s what they do. He doesn’t know what he wants yet, but it’s not because you’re doing something wrong.”

But his words offered little solace. Lyra could feel herself unraveling, the weight of the past few days crushing her as Thorne’s cries grated against her already frazzled nerves. She was exhausted, her body still weak from labor, and she felt like she was failing at the one thing that mattered most—being the mother Thorne needed her to be.

“I can’t do this,” she finally broke, her voice shaking as tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m so tired, Eris. He won’t stop crying, and I don’t know what to do. I just want him to stop. I need him to stop.”

Eris’s heart ached at the sight of her so broken, her usually strong demeanor crumbling under the weight of exhaustion and self-doubt. He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to press too tightly against Thorne, who was still squirming and wailing in her arms. “Lyra, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and I’ll stay with you. We’ll figure it out together.”

But Lyra could barely hear him over the sound of Thorne’s cries, her own breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she tried to calm the baby, her hands shaking as she rocked him back and forth. “Please, Thorne,” she whispered desperately, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. “Please, just stop. I need you to stop.”

But Thorne only cried harder, his tiny body rigid with distress, his cries escalating to a pitch that seemed to pierce straight through her. It was too much—the constant crying, the overwhelming responsibility, the fear that she wasn’t enough. She felt as though she were drowning, the walls of their chamber closing in on her as Thorne’s cries became all she could hear, all she could think about.

Without another word, Lyra sank down onto the edge of the bed, her body trembling with exhaustion and despair. She clutched Thorne to her chest, her tears falling onto his tiny head as she rocked him back and forth, murmuring broken apologies that were swallowed up by his cries. “I’m sorry, Thorne. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know how to help you.”

Eris knelt beside her, his heart breaking as he watched her unravel, knowing there was little he could do to take away her pain. He reached out, his hand gently covering hers as she held Thorne. “Lyra, you’re doing everything you can. He’s just overwhelmed, just like you. But he’s safe, and he’s loved, and that’s what matters most. You’re enough, Lyra. You’re more than enough.”

But Lyra couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it. All she could hear were Thorne’s cries, all she could feel was the crushing weight of inadequacy. She had thought she could handle this, had thought she was prepared, but nothing had prepared her for the relentless, unending demands of a newborn who needed her every moment of every day.

Her tears came faster now, her sobs mixing with Thorne’s cries as she leaned into Eris’s embrace, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. “I’m so tired, Eris,” she choked out. “I’m so, so tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Eris pulled her closer, his heart breaking as he held both her and Thorne in his arms, wishing he could do more to ease her pain. “I know, my love. I know you’re tired. But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here with you, and we’ll get through this together. I promise you, it will get better.”

But in that moment, Lyra couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. All she could feel was the crushing weight of exhaustion, the overwhelming pressure to be everything Thorne needed her to be, and the fear that she was failing him—failing both of them.

Eris held her through it, his own eyes damp with unshed tears as he whispered words of comfort, his voice steady even as his heart ached with helplessness. He knew this was only a passing storm, that they would find their way through it, but in that moment, all he could do was be there—hold them, love them, and wait for the storm to pass.

And eventually, slowly, it did. Thorne’s cries began to subside, his tiny body finally giving in to exhaustion as he quieted in Lyra’s arms. His little hands unclenched, his breathing evening out as he drifted off into a fitful sleep, his face still wet with tears. Lyra, too, began to calm, her sobs quieting as the tension in her body slowly eased, though the weight of her emotions still lingered.

Eris gently took Thorne from her arms, cradling the sleeping babe against his chest as he brushed a kiss to Lyra’s temple. “Rest now,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with love. “I’ll take care of him. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Lyra nodded weakly, too drained to argue, too exhausted to do anything but lean into him as he carefully guided her to lie back on the bed. She closed her eyes, her body heavy with fatigue, and within moments, she was asleep, her breathing finally deep and even.

Eris stood there for a long time, holding Thorne close as he watched over Lyra, his heart aching with a mixture of love and sorrow.

And then there was his family.

Eris had anticipated his father’s reaction to Thorne’s birth, but nothing could have truly prepared him for Beron’s demands. Upon hearing that Lyra had given birth to a son, the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been insistent on meeting his grandson as soon as he could. Beron had sent word almost immediately, demanding an audience with the babe, his tone cold and authoritative, as though Thorne was just another asset to be inspected.

Eris’s jaw tightened with anger as he read the message, the familiar weight of his father’s expectations pressing down on him like a vice. Beron had never been a male to show warmth or tenderness, and the thought of his father laying eyes on his son filled Eris with a protective fury he had never known before. Thorne was only days old—fragile, innocent, and so very small—and the last thing Eris wanted was for him to be paraded before Beron like a trophy.

But Eris knew his father well enough to understand that defiance would come with a cost. Beron would not tolerate insubordination, even from his eldest son, and especially not when it came to a matter as significant as the birth of his heir’s firstborn. Eris could almost hear the words his father would say—the cutting remarks, the accusations of weakness, the thinly veiled threats that always lurked beneath the surface of their interactions.

Lyra, sensing Eris’s turmoil, placed a gentle hand on his arm as he stared down at the letter, Throne swaddled to her chest, his tiny whimpers and gurgles filling the air. Her touch brought him back to the present, grounding him. “You don’t have to let him in,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion but firm with resolve. “Thorne isn’t ready for that. And neither are we.”

Eris looked at her, at the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin, and the way she clutched Thorne protectively to her chest. She was right, of course. They weren’t ready to face Beron’s scrutiny, not when they were still trying to navigate the fragile early days of parenthood. Eris knew his father had already made a judgement for Lyra not immediately presenting the babe to the court, but tried his best to shield her from direct scrutiny. But refusing Beron wasn’t a decision he could make lightly. It would be seen as a direct challenge to his authority—a challenge that could have far-reaching consequences for both of them.

Eris took a deep breath, steeling himself as he made his decision. “I’ll speak with him,” he said, his voice low and determined. “But he won’t come near Thorne. Not yet.”

The tension between Eris and his father crackled in the air like lightning, each of them radiating a palpable hatred towards the other. Beron's piercing gaze bore into his son, his expression cold and unreadable. "Where is the babe?" he barked, his voice sharp as a blade.

"He's with Lyra," Eris replied coolly, refusing to show any sign of fear or intimidation. "They're resting."

Beron's face twisted into a sneer, his anger boiling just below the surface. "Resting? Or hiding?" His eyes darkened with malice. "I expected more from you, Eris. You are meant to raise your son as a future ruler of this court, not coddle him like a weakling."

Eris felt a surge of rage at his father's words, but he kept his emotions in check, determined not to give Beron the satisfaction. "Thorne is an infant. He knows nothing of our world or our court. He needs time to be with his mother and to grow. When the time is right, I will present him before the court."

Beron's sneer deepened as he drew closer to Eris, his towering figure casting a menacing shadow over him. "You are becoming soft, boy. You were born to rule, not to be ruled by sentiment."

Eris clenched his fist at his side, but remained stoic. "My decision stands. Thorne will stay with Lyra until she is ready to face the courtiers once again. If you wish to see your grandson before then, you will have to make your own arrangements."

Beron stared down at his son with seething anger in his eyes. "You will teach him to be a true Vanserra, Eris. You will not let him become weak and feeble like you have."

Eris's jaw tightened, but he held his tongue as his father stormed out of the room, leaving a bitter trail behind him.

But for now, in this moment, Eris was bathed in the warm glow of the evening light, his newborn, barely two month old babe, slumbering on his chest. As he ran his hand gently up and down the length of Thorne’s back, Eris marveled at how small and delicate his son was. The baby gurgled happily in his sleep, his tiny lips puckered and parted with each soft breath, and the sight made Eris’s heart clench with a fierce, overwhelming love. This little boy, with his shock of red hair and his quiet strength, had captured his heart in a way that nothing else ever had.

Eris knew that these moments were fleeting, that Thorne would grow quickly, and soon enough, he’d be running around the halls of the estate, getting into mischief like any Vanserra boy. But for now, he was content to savor this—this quiet, peaceful bond that belonged to just the two of them.

He leaned down again, pressing a soft kiss to Thorne’s head, breathing in the scent of his son and feeling the weight of his responsibilities slip away. In this moment, there was no Beron, no Autumn Court, no expectations or pressures. There was only the warmth of Thorne’s skin against his own, the gentle rise and fall of his tiny chest, and the deep, abiding love that filled Eris’s heart to the brim.

He closed his eyes, letting the world outside fade away, and for the first time in a long while, Eris felt at peace. Holding Thorne, feeling the steady beat of his heart, Eris knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter the battles he would have to fight, this—this was worth it all. Every sacrifice, every moment of fear, every tear shed—nothing mattered more than this little life he held in his arms.

In that stillness, with Thorne sleeping soundly against him, Eris made a silent vow. He would protect this boy with everything he had, would give him the love and the life that Eris himself had never known. He would be the father Thorne deserved, the one who would always be there—present, loving, and unwavering.

As he held Thorne close, Eris felt a tear slip down his cheek, a tear of joy, of relief, of pure, unadulterated love. And as Thorne stirred slightly in his sleep, his tiny hand curling against Eris’s chest, Eris smiled, knowing that in this moment, he had everything he had ever needed.

[shoyx]

─ ✩  : 🎨  june !

★‌ Gift from the Ocean

TAGS: June x MC, MC with female pronouns, SFW, fluff, MC doesnʼt talk at all.

COUNTER: 637 words.

I'm just starting The Ssum on day 6 of June's route, sorry if his personality isn't portrayed perfectly. I take requests for different situations only with June, as I haven't played other routes and have no plans to do so soon. English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes I may make, be kind!

The gentle kiss of the ocean breeze caresses your skin as you and June take a leisurely stroll along the shoreline. Each step you take is accompanied by a symphony of soothing sounds— the rhythmic flow of the waves kissing the sand, the soft whisper of the sea gulls in the sky, and the occasional laughter of couples enjoying the day. The sand beneath your feet is warm and inviting, and as you continue your journey, you spot shells of all shapes and sizes shimmering in the sunlight, awaiting your touch. As you admire the shells scattered along the shore, June lets out a gentle whistle before speaking. "Look at these, ma'am. They're all so pretty!" He picks up a small, spiraled shell and holds it up to the sunlight, causing it to sparkle like a tiny jewel. He carefully places the shell in your hand, his touch gentle and tender, a small smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue your walk, June points out the horizon. The sun is beginning to sink lower in the sky, and the soft colors of the sky are painted in shades of golden orange and pink. June then gently takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and gives it a light squeeze. "Look at that sunset. It's breathtaking, isn't it?" He pauses for a moment, his gaze lingering. "It's like nature is putting on a show just for us".

The setting sun casts a warm glow over the water, and the sea becomes a canvas painted with liquid gold. "Moments like this that make life worthwhile," June murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet contentment. "Being here with you, feeling your hand in mine... it's like daydreaming". He turns to face you, his eyes filled with a deep affection that warms your heart.

As the sun dips below, the sky transforms into a canvas of hypnotic darkness, speckled with countless stars. The night air is cool and crisp, and the sound of the waves gently lapping against the shore is like a lullaby playing in the background. June gazes at the ocean, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "When we first met, I promised you that one day I'd take you to the beach. It feels like a lifetime ago..." He glances at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I was going through a rough time back then. I was sick and even getting up from my bed was impossible, but the idea of bringing you here, of sharing this moment with you, kept me going..."

June suddenly stops walking and turns toward you, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Close your eyes," he whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You close your eyes, feeling a mix of curiosity and anticipation. June steps closer, and you can sense his presence lingering just a breath away. Suddenly, you feel something cold and smooth being placed gently on your neck—it's a necklace. Softly, he whispers, "Open them."

As you open your eyes, you see June standing before you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes, waiting for your reaction. The necklace hangs gracefully around your neck, the intricate details illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight.

"It's a simple gift," he murmurs, his voice a mix of shyness and earnest sincerity. "But I wanted to give you something..." He reaches out and gently brushes his fingers against the pendant, the necklace is crafted with delicate details and features a thin, elegant chain that extends around your neck. The central design is the most striking, and is shaped like a miniature wave, at the center of the wave, a delicately crafted pearl or crystal can be found, glowing of the sun on the ocean waves. "Do you like it...?"

2024 © shoyx — do not repost or translate my work.

[recapitulation]

this is what each mahler symphony feels like. to me.

familiar old friend. star trek theme at the beginning makes me smile. legendary remix of frere jaque funeral durge and jewish klezmer songs.

half piece of art, half murder weapon. also my wife. my favorite symphony period. literally kills you and brings you back to life. incredibly famous for a reason.

a dance. sometimes you're a deer in a forest, sometimes you're a bug flying over a hazy pond at dawn, but it's always a dance. the finale is titled "what love tells me" and it will. it will tell you.

transports you somewhere else. heaven then hell then heaven again. the concertmaster plays two violins, one of which is tuned sharp and signifies the devil. the third movement really feels like you're watching heaven's gates opening. fourth movement is literally called "the heavenly life."

a beautiful story. easiest mahler symphony to love in my opinion. takes your hand and tells you something nothing else can. mahler 5 i love you so much its not even funny.

an easy jam. the slow movement is the best. its so good it kind of blinds out all the other movements for me a bit. hammer blows of fate in the finale are sick as hell.

feels like a puzzle or a trick. the scherzo feels like a nightmare. the first movement is so ethereal. mandolin and cowbells abound: the combination of a fucking lifetime.

feels like talking to god. part 2 dries me out and turns me into jerky. wild as hell instrumentation list. its called symphony of a thousand because it will cut you into a thousand pieces. legendary combo of celesta/harmonium/piano/organ.

mysterious... the first thing i think of is the 'heartbeat' rhythm that bernstein speculated was a mirror of mahler's own failing heart. generally i think this is the symphony i understand the least... i look forward to unlocking your shrimp emotions miss nine...

takes me out back and shoots me. literally the last movement has loud strikes that jolt you like being shot. one of the most chilling beginnings AND endings.

[nomorefstogive]

Night On Bald Mountain (OC Musicart for Takt Op. Symphony)

Hello dear friends, new friends, and those simply browsing, we have something new for all of you today, something we have truthfully been meaning to do for a while but have simply never gotten around to doing so thanks to life and other such issues.

The new thing in question being our first attempt at posting one of the OCs we have come up with for one of the games we find to be quite interesting and are fond of.

With all of that said, this work is heavily inspired by the writing style of our friend @2broschlininahotub , especially in regards to how our OCs abilities are listed and described, so please go and take a look at their projects when you get the chance.

This work is also inspired by the ideas and exchanges we have shared with @badtaktopheadcanons , we would like to apologize to them for the delay in posting this but we have been somewhat busy recently and a little unwell, but the sickness is past and we have managed to refine this idea to a point we feel is acceptable enough to post.

All of that said, let us present to you one and all our take on what a Musicart based on Night On Bald Mountain would be like, though a brief note before we start is that she is also inspired by the darker tone of the music and the appearance of the demon Chernabog during the Disney animation of Fantasia as opposed to the witches' sabbath the music is supposed to be about.

With all of that out of the way, let us begin shall we?

Also, slight NSFW and Trigger Warning due to description of disturbing themes such as occult imagery, descriptions of bodily harm, mentions of cannibalism, experimental medical procedures, and mentions of sexual acts in tattoo form though they are not really described.

Name: Night On Bald Mountain

Alias: Chernabog

Affiliation: Melodic Union (Founder)

Place of Summoning: Eastern European Symphonica 

Score: Night On Bald Mountain by Modest Mussorgsky 

Role: Hybrid, Support Caster/Assault

Height: 6ft 10 inch

Weight: 230lbs

Age: Mid to late 30s.

Hair Color: Bald, formerly Black before she shaved her hair due to fire damage sustained in battle.

Skin Tone: Light to Dark Gray.

Eye Color: Yellow with orange pupils that glow like flames. 

Facial Features: A broad brow with deep set eyes, sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin are coupled with slightly pointed ears and full lips to lend her a rather intimidating appearance, especially when one considers the shadows of her cloak and the baleful glow of her eyes.

Body Features: Her shoulders are broad and thick, her arms like miniature tree trunks with the gnarled roots being her surprisingly slim fingers, each tipped with nails that she allows the younger Musicarts and humans to paint for her during her free time.

There is little to no fat on her, with only powerful muscles brought about by a lifetime of grueling battle, coupled with scars and tattoos of occult iconography to adorn her body.

On the back of her left shoulder is done a tattoo of a silver full moon, and on the back of her right a blazing sun of gold and orange and crimson, with runes and glyphs in languages long dead twirl and dance around images of angels in armor with blazing weapons aloft and demons cackling in mad delight amidst fields of screaming faces.

Curiously, all of the tattoos seem to shift and stir to swirl and churn like a miasmic nebula of some unknown nether world when one gazes upon them for too long.

The screaming of the faces caresses ones ears as hands seem to emerge to pull you towards her, the clamor of battle and holy hymns as angels and saints charge forth adding to the dizzying spell that merely gazing upon her can cast upon one who is not prepared.

Upon her chest there lays the depiction of a great lock, bound in chains of silver and gold, resting amidst a cleared area of skin, the runes and glyphs, the lurid and perverse and debauched iconography and images that now intermingle with nauseating occult images seeming to part as waves of water upon a stone around the field.

Indeed, not even a singly drop of ink not a part of the lock and chains spills onto the field, be it from the succubi and incubi depicted around her breasts, reveling with humans and demons alike, but even the wafting smoke depicted to come from candles above a nauseating banquet of fetid meat, offal, corpses and worse whereupon demons and witches dine deign not to touch the field.

And below the table, coiling around her sex there are depictions of demons and humans in lurid poses and acts, debauchery that makes one's stomach churn to see as they gaze upon the images, the odors of sex and blood and howling screams and pleas assailing their ears as they see the artwork come alive.

Yet all of these runes and symbols and images pale to the greatest piece of ink that adorns her frame, for upon her back there rest a depiction of a great winged demon rising from a sable mountain amidst a roiling storm.

Its outstretched arms and wings enveloping a coven of what appear to be witches and demons in their shadow as they revel and make merry under the demons hellish gaze.

And as one gazes upon it they feel the heat of flames licking their naked flesh, the cruel wind cutting and flaying and shearing at their form as the needle like rain chills them to their very bone, the roar of thunders soon drowned out by the mad howling of the demented revelers and the mockingly perverse laughter of the devil who above this hell rains supreme.

And were one to gaze upon that stygian demon, now lit by the flames of hell itself as they sway and write up from depths unseen, then one would feel their very soul come alight with agony as eyes like embers glow with perverse malice as hands reach out to bend and tear and break and make mockery all that has been wrought by the hands nature and the divine.

Yet salvation would come, for just as those abhorrent hands come close to closing around one, just as the fetid odor of Sulphur and aged blood begin to overwhelm ones senses and their skin begins to blister and peel at the devils' caress, there comes the sound of a bell.

A melodious chime that resounds once, the noise driving the demons into the shadows and making the witches take flight from the sable mountain as both spew such curses that your ears will burn at the ever distant horizon, whereupon a glimmer of golden light is seeping forth from.

A roar of wrath and fury will slip from the devil's lips as it reaches out to seize hold of you once more, to rend and tear and defile and break in ways not even the most perverse of torturers could dream of, yet again it flinches back at the second chime, warm light caressing your skin and healing the wounds wrought by the presence of such evil.

And with the third chime there comes the rays of light being cast upon the demon, its skin burning to bone and organs as it howl in agony before it drapes its wing upon itself once more, hiding upon the mountain as it rages impotently at the end of its hour, all while yet slavering at the maw for the hedonisms to come when it is once more its time.

As the light caresses you, a silent embrace will pull you into the light and pull you from this world, but as it does so an image may flicker before your eyes, a great lock, broad and tall as a mountain with chains of equal grandeur, and before it stands a cloaked figure who turns to look at you with glowing eyes and a simple nod before the image passes.

Whether or not these hypnotic effects and tattoos were upon her when she was called forth by that dying conductor none can truly say, only that they serve to make this towering being all the more intimidating.

Weapon: Sabbath, a Bass-Mace styled to resemble a fallen angel above a mass of souls that are grasping at it, with batlike wings resting above where she grips the weapon with three blades emerging from the sides and back of it. The bow also doubles as a sword in battle. 

Passive Skills (First Form): 

In Darkness Gather: Starts with 5 stacks of Light and 0 Stacks of Darkness,  each ability increases Darkness and reduces Light, with each reduction in light increasing the Speed of Night On Bald Mountain along with her attack power at the price of the Crit Rate and Speed of her fellows and her own defense. When Light reaches 0, Night On Bald Mountain’s Peak Performance becomes available and she enters into her second form. 

For Our Future (Shared Between Forms): Night On Bald Mountain is the founder and acting leader of the Melodic Union, her mere presence is enough to inspire her allies to fight with greater tenacity with each member receiving a marked buff to Speed and Attack as well as sharing in her buffs and debuffs gained through her first passive ability. 

A Necessary Price: Whenever an ally falls in battle, Night On Bald Mountain will move forward one place and gain a 5%/10%/15% increase in attack and speed for the duration of the battle. 

Active Skills (First Form): 

Gather My Witches: Buffs her allies by extending the duration of their overtime effects such as poison and overtime healing abilities, she likewise gains a shield proportional to 5% of her health. The ability also makes the enemies more vulnerable to damage over time abilities. 

The light is starting to dim. 1 Stack of Darkness is gained. 

Ritual’s Beginning: Night On Bald Mountain slams her bass into the ground and plays a brief tune, the power instills her allies with manic fervor, boosting their attack speed and damage as the enemies suffer a defense reduction with Night On Bald Mountain gaining a bonus to her Defense and Resistance as well. 

It is getting Darker. 1 Stack of Darkness is gained.

Shield Of The Coven: Chernabog strums her bass and generates a barrier around her allies proportional to her remaining health, she then gains 2 stacks of Guard for the ally with the lowest health as she gains a buff to her own defense and resistance proportional to a percentage of the ally she is defendhing’s missing health. 

The time is nigh. Gain 1 stack of Darkness. 

Peak Performance: Night On Bald Mountain, The Sabbath Begins: The darkness has drowned out the light and thus she surges forth, her cloak dissolving into darkness as she lifts her bass in one hand and bow in the other as she deals massive damage to all enemies as she reaves through their ranks. 

She likewise subtracts 15% health from her allies to further boost her attack and defense for 3 turns. All allies gain bonuses to Speed and Attack Damage, but suffer lower Defense as they gain the Dark Revelry Bonus. Night On Bald Mountain switches to Second Form, Chernabog. 

Passive Skills (Second Form): 

Profane Revelry: Chernabog commands her fellows to fight beyond their limits, upon entering her second state she grants them a protective barrier equivalent to a proportion of their missing health and a sizable bonus to Speed and Attack at the price of Defense being reduced for 3 rounds. 

Witchcraft: Chernabog calls forth an unnatural power upon her arrival, the Darkness no longer reducing the Speed and Crit Rate of her allies at the price of their Defense being Reduced. Similarly, the healing effects of her fellow Musicarts is increased in proportion to the buffs they possess that increase Attack and Speed. Now is not the time for defense, make use of the Darkness and break their ranks.

The Dark One: Chernabog grows in power in the Darkness, starting with 5 stacks of Darkness, yet as her power grows so to does her arrogance, for each stack of Darkness Chernabog has her defense is reduced by 3%/9%/15% with her gaining a speed and attack bonus of equal proportion. 

However, the dawn is coming and with it her power wanes, each Stack of Light she gains reduces her Speed and Attack bonuses until she is forced back into the shelter of her cloak at the toll of the bell. 

Dawn to Dusk, Dusk to Dawn: Upon reaching 5 stacks of Light, Chernabog will automatically utilize her Peak Performance, Sabbath’s End and revert back to her first form, Night On Bald Mountain, while suffering a one round stun. 

Active Skills (Second Form): 

Might Of The Sabbath: Chernabog lunges forward and slams into the enemy in the first position with her bass, dealing heavy physical damage, shuffling them backwards and then slashing at the enemy that takes their place with her bow, which will deal magic damage. 

If no enemy swaps positions with them, or she deals a death blow with the attack, she will gain a retaliation buff, the next attack on her will prompt her to retaliate with an attack that is 50%Physical and 50% Magical in damage. 

The light is approaching. 1 Stack of Light is gained. 

Unhallowed Gathering: Chernabog calls forth the unhallowed spirits of fallen foes and friends to aid her in battle, inflicting heavy magical damage to the first two enemies with the last two suffering moderate magical damage as well, all of her enemies suffer a reduction in their speed. 

This ability can increase in power proportional to the amount of fallen allies, with each fallen Musicart on the field granting a 5%/10%/15% bonus to her attack with the wraiths summoned gaining the appearance of her fallen fellows. 

The light is starting to loom. 1 stack of Light is gained. 

Vengeance Of The Coven: Chernabog raises her Bass and begins to play a profaned melody, sending out a shockwave that does heavy Magical damage to all enemies and stuns the first enemy as she takes a small portion of health from each of her allies to buff her own attack and defense.

This ability has a cooldown of 1 turn.

The light is almost gone, it is nearly time. Gain 1 stack of Darkness.

Peak Performance, Sabbath’s End: Sensing the coming of Dawn and the end of her hour, Chernabog launches one last offensive as she raises her bass and bow in hand and channels forth a haunting dirge as she summons forth the spirits of her fallen comrades to take their curtain bow.

The vengeful spirits assail the enemy team inflicting magical damage to all they strike as Chernabog continues her ballad, ending but when the rays of light begin to sear her skin as she lets out one last defiant roar before she unleashes a final shockwave of magical and physical damage to her enemies before her cloak reforms around her as she returns to her first form.

The light will fade eventually, and then it will be her time once more. 

Bio: Night On Bald Mountain, or Chernabog as she has come to be known, is one of the longest serving Musicarts within the European theater, if not then on the planet as a whole, a veteran of countless battles that have left scars in the Earth itself she is regarded by those that know of her as a force of nature more than a living being. 

Yet despite all of her victories and the gains she has brought forth to humanity and the Musicarts, the respect and reverence she is held in is matched in equal parts by contempt and fear as a result of her ideology, the power she commands, and the deeds she has committed to gain humanity and the Musicarts the many victories she has.  

Her story starts with a dying Conductor, desperate to save as many people as he could to such an extent that even as his blood pooled around him he managed to summon forth the strength to play a score found amidst debris in a desperate hope that the one who would answer the call would save the people of his besieged home. 

With the Despair Dolls slaughtering their way through the halls and towards him, many of the life support pods having already been destroyed and thus the symphonica’s primary purpose having already been compromised, and the Musicarts reduced to but a handful that held fast barred doors to defend the terrified people, he called forth his last bit of strength and commanded those that could to play the piece. 

At first, it seemed that it had not been a savior that had heeded their summons but a fiend of hell, for there before them stood a towering figure clad in stygian robes adorned with occult runes and sigils, the gem encrusted bones of beast and man alike seeming to act as armor for her menacing form.

Further still to unnerve them was the sight of a great double bass styled like a fallen angel, its lips parted in a salacious grin as it becking the unclean and lost soul towards it, and a bow made to resemble a combination of a wand of cold stone and a blade of black metal, that had accompanied the towering forms arrival. 

From the hood that obscured their face there came forth a waterfall of onyx hair that brushed over their shoulders and nearly touched the ground, yet more unnerving was the deepset pair of blazing orbs of yellow and orange that stared out at them with such naked might that all were frozen where upon they stood.

Yet their fear proved to be for naught, as soon did the menacing form move to aid the dying Conductor, laying them down upon the ground and trying to soothe their pain to the best of their ability, only for her efforts to be in vain. 

His time nearly at an end, the cold steel of the scythe upon his throat, the Conductor begged her to protect the civilians and to save their broken lands, his final comfort being a voice, one that was paradoxically both thunderous as an avalanche and gentle as a spring shower as cold lips rested against his brow as he was finally let to rest. 

Upon laying the Conductor down and allowing herself a moment of silence, the towering Musicart rose to her full height and strode forth, bass in one hand and bow in the other as she surged towards the aperture from which the Despair Dolls began to pour as her fellows were at last forced to withdraw.

Yet the victory of the beasts was short lived, for with but a single strumming of her bass there came forth a mighty wave of energy and force that flung her foes upon their backs, leaving them open for the harrowing that was to follow as she met their charge as an avalanche, crushing and hewing and grinding all that dared to approach her as she alone held fast the opening till her fellows had recovered enough to sally forth and aid her in battle. 

Days of non-stop battle would pass as the towering Musicart took command of not only her fellow Musicarts, but also of the civilians and remaining staff of the symphonica, quickly putting all to work in as best a manner as she could. 

From having those who could not fight act as medics and engineers to repair the damaged halls and prepare defenses in case they needed to fall back, to commissioning others to act as scouts and lay down traps for the Despair Dolls as her and her fellow Musicarts marshaled forward and began a brutal counter offensive. 

Over the course of nearly 7 months the Musicarts of the Eastern European Symphonica fought tooth and nail to reclaim their home, not just the Symphonica, but the lands around it as well, a horrific loop forming whereupon some would fall and the remaining Musicarts or conductors would use their scores to resurrect them to continue the battle for their home.

Eventually, after many sacrifices and much strife, the Symphonica and the lands around it were reclaimed and the Dissonant Meteorite Shards that had summoned forth the invading Despair dolls in the city were undone, thus affording the battered warriors a much needed respite. 

It was during this respite that the Musicarts and civilians of the Eastern Symphonica would gather to discuss the path forward, as with no ability to communicate with the outside world and no sign of support, it was obvious that they were in for a long campaign. 

During this time, many issues were brought forth, such as the housing of the civilians, along with what to do with the remaining preservation pods that had endured the assault, with Night On Bald Mountain and several others claiming that the pods and those they contained contributed nothing to their struggle and were thus useless, while others, primarily members of the staff and a handful of Musicarts, argued for their preservation as was one of the main goals of the Symphonicas. 

It was during one such debate that Night On Bald Mountain took to the stand and spoke aloud-

“Brothers and sisters, fellow survivors one and all I ask you to lend me your ears. 

Let us stand here today unfettered by the shackles of our pasts, for whoever we were before, whatever our place of origin and our caste within society, no longer do these things matter to us.

For of what value can they be when beasts hold us fast to the shadows and alcoves of our own home? 

Of what value does it matter the ideals and dreams we once held fast, of what our purposes were before claw and fang and blade and spell hew and tore us from our homes and brought us down into these depths? 

My friends, our Sabbath stands alone, beset on all sides by beasts driven but to seek our ruin and naught else, indeed you must harken well to this truth that we are indeed alone, for no messengers have come and no horns have resounded to herald aid. 

We are alone.

My friends, we must set in stone here and now the first flagstone on the path to our salvation, and I believe to all of you it is obvious what must be done. 

Take not joy in this.

Take not pleasure in this. 

Find not merriness in what we must do this day. 

For know that the path to our salvation is held fast with the mortar and cement of sacrifice, and on this day we must make a grievous one. 

The space held by those pods can be used to house not only the survivors of our home, but any others that come to us, and that is to say nothing of the amount of power they consume, need I remind you all that our own generators can barely supply us enough to keep the lights on as it is due to the damage they sustained? 

In that same vein, those within those pods contribute nothing to our struggles as they slumber, nor do we possess the means to awaken them and put them to work in aiding us, and while many here may have sentimental bonds to them…I feel that even they can foresee the writing on the wall…

My friends…I know what I am asking of you…

My sisters…I know how much this tears at your hearts…

But the road forward must be trodden…no matter how horrific it may be.

…Let us stand my comrades and march into the future free of the fetters of our past…no matter ow much it is that we long for their restricting embrace.”

This would not be the first time that Night On Bald Mountain and her fellows sacrificed the slumbering elite of the old world for the sake of the civilians of the new, yet it would perhaps be the only time that Night On Bald Mountain would weep for them.

As with each Symphonica she and her forces discovered, and with every piece of information she learned regarding the purpose of the Symphonicas and their treatment of those beyond their walls, how the civilians were left to fend for themselves and oft used as meat shields and disposable pawns by an uncaring A.I. and its equally calloused human allies, her heart hardened and her ideals were further cemented.

“To save our Future, we must first ensure the survival of the Present, and the only way to do that, is to break each and every fetter that binds us to the Past…no matter how much it hurts to do so.” 

It would be shortly after she had the pods of her own Symphonica deactivated and space made the people that she was approached by a combination of civilian and Musicart that told her of their desire to elect her their leader, a role that Night On Bald Mountain solemnly accepted. 

Not long thereafter the group coined the name it has born to this day; “The Melodic Union”, a force of Musicarts and humans rallied together to save their lands and people, no matter the price they must pay to do so. 

Overtime the group would grow, from one Symphonica to 2, from 2 to 4 and so on, with each hard fought and hard won victory bringing more into the fold of this fledgling union, its numbers soon swelling as many that had lost their home or purpose found a new one within the arms of the force that stood poised to reclaim their lands and those beyond. 

From civilians who had lost their homes and been forced to hide in the rubble and defiled halls of the battered Symphonica;s, to Musicarts and Conductors that had thought themselves forsaken and abandoned when communication was lost with their fellows and none came to aid them, all would be offered a chance to strike back, and most would readily take it…even if the price was a part of their sacred duty being cast off.

It was during their expansion and reclamation efforts, stonewall defense having yielded to merciless blitzkrieg and unwavering assaults, that a discovery was made that would change the Union and the balance of power forever, a means of granting the purposeless and vengeful a chance to be of value to the Union in ways other than as farmers and engineers and craftsman.

For upon a field grim and sepulchral, there was uncovered a means of imbuing humans with the power of Musicarts, though it came at great risk.

Indeed, this process, discovered during a particularly bloody battle where a Musicart, desperate to save the life of the one she loved, tore a piece of her own Score off and implanted it in the human, the result being a form of Proto-Musicart, an entity of above human power, yet still below true Musicarts in strength. 

And it was not only females that could be bestowed such power, for while it would alter the flesh and mentality of them, it could likewise be used on males as well, further allowing for the ranks to be swelled and for a fresh wave of recruits to join forth in battle. 

Though the risks were high, for these people risked the loss of their memories and identities, their bodies morphing and changing and bringing with them dysphoria and unease as they became entities similar to the Musicarts in appearance, though some came to find themselves possessing traits of both male and female in the process. 

Yet another detriment there was in the form of the toll taken upon the Musicart who bestowed her power unto them, for each whom was granted a sliver of their score became as an extension of themselves, the lines between them blurring as memories warped and identities were pulled taught should one lack will and mental fortitude. 

And still more issues came forth in the weakness and fragility that would plague the gifter until such a time as their score was mended, be it through regeneration by immersing themselves in meditation, prayer, or through the melody of the Score itself.

Yet these determinants were but naught before the chance this revelation offered, for those who had lost all now held fast a chance to claim due vengeance and to stand with their protectors and to shield their own kin as well, the price be damned. 

It is a shame that the price they paid, all of their pain and suffering, was all built upon lies. 

For indeed the process had been created to give hope to these hopeless and downtrodden, to target those with naught but vengeance to use to keep the frigid husk that they had become warm, with but the flickering shadow cast by the malefic flame of wrath to guide them through the darkness of their daily lives.

While indeed the process did work, it was born not out of a beautiful and desperate love, but in the cold depths of laboratory carved out amidst the ruins of the Union’s main Symphonica, a result of desperate experiments and of equally as desperate dreams and hopes for a means of granting all those trapped in these dying lands a chance at revenge. 

Was it wrong to lie to them? 

To take those who had nothing and no one, who were but broken pieces of scrap metal, and to melt them down in a crucible of agony and science and magic such that their vaunted humanity was nigh stripped from them?

Perhaps, though Night On Bald Mountain doubted that any of her comrades truly believed the tale that had been told as a means of covering up the broken bodies and agonized screams of the failed results of the experiments that had preceded the success that allowed for all to stand as one against their foes. 

But morals were of no concern to her, no, all that mattered was that her people now had a chance to fight back, and fight back they would. 

Soon it was that the Melodic Union would surge forth in full, tearing a swath of destruction and wrath through the lands as they drove their hated foes before them and then crushed them under their boots as they reclaimed acre after acre of lost land, their banners and calls gathering others to them in droves as their march continued. 

It would be after the Union’s forces had come to the rescue of a Symphonica that had managed to hold fast with the sacrifices of many brave Musicarts, and the destruction of a towering Shard of the Dissonant Meteorite, that at last communication between the Union and the Symphonica’s Leadership was re-established. 

At first there was shock that any yet lived in what was thought a no-man’s land, and then there came joy as kin found one another again and news of triumphs and victories hard fought and harder won were spread as the kindling of a bonfire of hope. 

Yet it was not all cheer, for upon learning of Night On Bald Mountain and her followers deactivating and removing the pods from each Symphonica, there came many in the leadership of the Symphonica’s, fellow Musicarts, and governments who disavowed her and her fellows as radicals and demanded the fledgling union turn over its masters to face judgment for violating their mission.

The answer was a resounding no from the masses, as both Musicart and Human chose to stand with Night On Bald Mountain and her fellowship in support of their decisions, with the Symphonica’s leadership facing the very real threat of a war with this fledgling Union should the matter continue to be pressed they chose to drop the charges until after the war with the Despair Dolls was concluded, something the Union knows all too well. 

So it is that even amidst the thunderous maelstrom of war, another tempest yet brews, hidden behind the darkened skies and whips of lightning as, with nebulous tendrils, it shifts the pieces on the board in preparation for a coming calamity. 

For the Union has chosen the one it shall follow, the one they trust to lead them forth into a new age, and if the symphony they seek to usher in must be penned in the blood of those once dearest kin and colleagues…then so be it.

[yasdnilgoth1]

One Piece: Big Bang

Leia has no clue what has happened to her. One moment, she was being chased by her tormentors during a hurricane, the next she wakes up in an Earth that is not hers. Creatures, monsters and magical fruits that can only exist in fairytales are now the reality that she lives in. Now, she must survive in a strange territory called Totto Land, where she meets new friends, dangerous enemies and a kindred soul that is more than meets the eye. Set 6 years before the Whole Cake Arc. Co-writer: Aiikawarazu. Inspired by "The Vision of Escaflowne" anime

I do not own One Piece plot and characters. But I do own my OCs as well as plot twist. Directed by me and written by the amazing Aiikawarazu! Please enjoy!

                                                 Prologue

Leia ran along the desolate beach, her heart pounding in her chest as her ragged breaths mixed with the howling wind. Fear coursed through her veins, each step fueled by a desperate determination to outrun the looming threat that pursued her relentlessly. The weight of her large backpack pressed heavily upon her shoulders, threatening to pull her back, but she refused to yield. Stopping was not an option, not when her freedom hung in the balance.

The storm raged around her, a tempestuous symphony of nature's fury. Dark clouds, pregnant with rain, stretched across the sky, obscuring any trace of the sun's warmth. The wind, like an invisible beast, clawed at her, tugging at her clothes and hair with an unyielding force. Raindrops fell in torrents, drenching her to the bone, as if the heavens wept for her plight. Each droplet stung against her skin, mingling with her sweat and tears, until it became impossible to distinguish the wetness of the sea from her own despair.

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead, its deep resonance vibrating through the very core of her being. It echoed her inner turmoil, a manifestation of the chaos that consumed her. Amidst the tumultuous elements, Leia's desperate flight seemed futile, an insignificant speck in the face of nature's wrath. Yet, her spirit burned with an unyielding determination, pushing her to defy the odds and fight for her life.

She was again running, running for her life. Why her life had always been a constant series of running away from pursuers – she never knew. It's like God had cursed her with some form of bad luck, and happiness was the farthest thing away from her. It was as though the only thing she was allowed to do in this life was to hide, and run, and see just how long she could escape the keen nose of her blood-thirsty hunters.

The hunters. She never did anything wrong to them – she did not even harm anyone as far as she could remember. But they wouldn't care less. To them she was a threat. And the only thing to do with threats – is to eliminate them before they became too big.

To them – eliminating her here would mean a job well done. To her – letting them get to her meant the end of her life.

But just how long could she keep running away from them? Even know, her breathing had become ragged, her chest hurt, and the torrent of rain felt like acid splashing on her face. She wanted to drop to the ground, then and there – and give up. But giving up for her meant a lifetime in locked-up facilities, never knowing if she would ever get out of there alive.

Could this have been her fate, after all – to die here in this desolate beach? Or to be locked up for the rest of her life?

She didn't dare to look back, but her intuition told her that her pursuers were closing in, their relentless determination to capture her causing panic to well up even further within her. Leia had always had an irrational fear of being locked up, of losing her freedom with no way out. And now, the looming threat of captivity pushed her to her limits. As the massive wave crashed onto the shore, drenching Leia from head to toe, she staggered, her large backpack becoming even more cumbersome and soaked. She felt a sudden wave of sickness wash over her, the weight on her shoulders feeling almost unbearable. She had never understood why being soaked always made her feel this way. But now was not the time for contemplation.

The group of men who had been relentlessly chasing Leia finally caught up, their shouts alerted Leia to just how close behind her they were.

"Halt!" a stern voice behind her barked. "Stop right there!"

Leia's breath came in ragged gasps as she risked a glance over her shoulder. Her pursuers - a group of masked men soaked to the bone like herself, closed in on her. Their figures blurred in the rain, but the glint of their raised weapons was unmistakable.

"Leave me alone!" Leia shouted, turning back to face the group of men in exasperation. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"There won't be any need for explanations," said another person – his voice had a nasty, frosty note that chilled Leia to the bone. "Just surrender yourself."

Leia's emotions swirled within her – a tempest of grief, anger, sadness, and confusion. Each conflicting feeling threatened to overwhelm her, as though mirroring the chaotic storm around her. She tried to take a step back, but as soon as she made the slightest move, she heard a reverberating sound of a shot being fired, and she was hit with a sharp, hot pain on her right shoulder. She knew right then that she had been shot – a bullet grazed her – and she fell to the ground on her knees, grunting.

"Not another move," said another one of her pursuers, calmly as though he was trying to read her a bed-time story instead of shooting bullets at her. "Next time, it won't be your shoulder, but your head instead."

Breath hitching on her throat, Leia's moves stopped abruptly. Now she silently knelt in place, her left hand pressed over the gunshot wound, her chest going up and down rapidly as anxiety consumed her. But still, she looked upward at her pursuers in a mix of rage and fear.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Leia said, tears began to sting her eyes, mixed with the rivulets of rain that streamed down her face. "I haven't harmed anyone! I would never, ever harm anyone!"

"It is not about what you've done, or haven't," the person with the chilling voice spoke again. And it is not something personal either. It is simply our job to take care of you." The way he said 'take care' was especially bone-chilling, Leia couldn't dare to think what it would mean.

"S-so you will…," Leia paused, her voice shivering – she didn't know if it was because of the chilling storm, or because she knew she was inches away from death. "You will kill me – here?"

For a moment, there was no answer – the silence was filled simply by the sound of the howling wind. Then, the man with the chilling voice spoke again.

"If that's what it takes…," he paused, as if trying to heighten Leia's tense anticipation at her demise. "Yes."

Leia wasn't sure what she did back then – perhaps she tried to run away, or ducked to the ground to evade the bullets being fired at her. She was sure she heard some shots being fired as she turned and tried to get away from the scene. Whatever it was, she remembered her intense emotion to survive – that the only thing inside her mind was to not go down without a fight.

Then, just as the situation seemed to reach its breaking point, she remembered the most mysterious thing happening. The men's shouts suddenly became distorted, as if they were suddenly transported to a great distance – she could no longer hear them clearly. Just as she tried to look back and see what happened to them, her own vision became blurred and distorted. Everything around her seemed to twist in a turn in a bizarre way. She couldn't ascertain whether it was her own senses that became altered, or if it was reality – time and space and the dimension itself – that suddenly became warped.

As if to add more to the already peculiar scene, a strange humming sound reverberated in the air, growing louder by the second, and a brilliant light began to materialize. Leia was suddenly hit by intensifying dizziness. She knew this feeling – she had experienced it when she was on the airplane ready to take off – or in amusement parks when she was on the scary rides. She knew what it meant –that her center of gravity had shifted. As if to ascertain her that she was right, Leia suddenly felt herself being lifted by an unseen force, as though being sucked into a vacuum. The world around her spun with dizzying speed, her body tossed and turned as if caught in a wild, uncontrollable slide. Seconds stretched into an eternity as Leia's consciousness teetered on the edge. Then, abruptly, everything turned black.

Funwari Island

In another place, in another universe that was far away - yet closely connected to Leia's story - two figures walked along the pristine shoreline of Funwari Island. Mabel, a young and vibrant island resident with a spirit as lively as the waves that crashed upon the beach, was enjoying her time with her faithful companion – Jasper, a mink gorilla known for his a loyal and gentle demeanor, and love for the tranquility of nature.

Funwari Island, and the whole Totto Land territory – had endured an especially long night filled with tempest. Granted, storms and extreme weathers were part of unpredictable Grand Line nature, and the residents were somehow used to it – but last night's storm was one of the worst they'd experienced this year. Fortunately, it was not a destructive storm of any sorts, but it was filled with howling winds that rattled the roofs and walls of houses, leaving the island residents unable to sleep. It had been a relentless tempest, its howling winds whipping through the island, unsettling the normally peaceful atmosphere. The air had been charged with electricity, causing a sense of unease that made many seek refuge by locking themselves indoors, their windows shuttered against the raging elements. Sleep had been elusive, replaced by the symphony of rain pelting against rooftops and the chorus of wind howling through every nook and cranny. It had been a night that tested the islanders' resilience and left them yearning for the calm that would follow the storm's departure.

And this morning, the residents were relieved to wake up to a calm, tranquil atmosphere. After the storm's fury had subsided, Funwari Island emerged in all its post-storm splendor. The golden sun peeked through the dissipating clouds, casting a warm glow upon the sand, as if nature itself was welcoming the return of peace. The beach stretched out endlessly, adorned with glistening grains of sand that shimmered like scattered pearls in the sunlight. The gentle waves lapped against the shore with a rhythmic melody, harmonizing with the whispers of the breeze that carried the scent of saltwater and blooming flowers. Seagulls soared gracefully in the sky, their calls filling the air with a sense of freedom and serenity. The palm trees swayed gently, their fronds whispering secrets to the wind. There were no traces of storm that passed through the island last night, it was almost as though the tempest that howled with all its might last night was nothing more than a passing bad dream. The aftermath of the tempest had left behind a sense of ethereal beauty, transforming the island into a sanctuary of tranquility and solace.

"I can't wait for the party, Jasper!" said Mabel as she strolled along the shoreline alongside her best friend. The sand beneath their feet felt soft and cool, a welcome respite after the storm's fury. "It's going to be so much fun!" she giggled, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she eagerly shared her plans for a forthcoming get-together party on the island. Beside her, Jasper furrowed his brows slightly and grumbled – her expression a total contrast from Mabel's. "I don't know, Mabel…," he sighed, then paused slightly. "I mean… you know how I feel about crowded places. I'd rather avoid them if I can…" It seemed clear that Jasper didn't share the same enthusiasm as Mabel concerning the upcoming get-together party plan. He kicked the sand and walked silently beside his friend, inwardly dreading the possibility of having to attend social gatherings.

Giggling rather mischievously at her friend's answer, Mabel playfully nudged Jasper's side, her eyes still bore the same sparkle of excitement. "Come on, Jasper," Mabel urged, her voice laced with a playful persuasion. "It won't be that bad! Just imagine the vibrant mood, the joyful chatter, and the treats! The mouth-watering aromas of delicious treats! Cupcakes and Chiffon! Puddings and Bruleé! I mean, when else can we find such delicious treats in one place – not to mention it will be free to eat everything!"

Jasper smiled at her best friend's argument, "Now now, I would think you are more interested in the food rather than the gatherings itself."

"Well," Mabel continued, "Of course I am interested in the gathering too! I mean.. It's a chance for everyone to come together, share stories, and the warmth of friendship! And some people will be coming from very far away you know… we will finally be able to see them! Just imagine, I haven't seen some of them in maybe a year or more!"

Jasper let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting toward the undisturbed tranquility of nature that surrounded them. His gorilla-like features reflected a sense of contemplation, the wisdom of a creature who found solace in the quietude of the wild. With a tinge of reluctance, he finally responded, his voice carrying a hint of longing for serenity.

"You're right," Jasper finally relented, his words laden with a gentle resignation. "But, you know me, Mabel. You know how I prefer the embrace of nature's silence, where the rustling leaves and the whispering streams create a symphony that soothes my soul... Noisy gatherings, loud music, and bustling crowds have never been my cup of tea."

They continued strolling along the shoreline, their footprints traced a temporary path in the damp sand, quickly swallowed by the encroaching tide. Mabel's steps were light and buoyan, her vibrant energy contrasting with the serene backdrop of the island. She occasionally twirled on her toes, as if dancing to a silent melody that only she could hear, the sheer joy of anticipation radiating from her every movement.

Jasper, on the other hand, maintained a leisurely pace, his large gorilla form exuding an aura of calm strength. His keen eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the swaying palm trees, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. He paused every now and then to inhale deeply, as if savoring the scent of the salty sea air and the delicate fragrance of tropical blooms. It was such a tranquil, ordinary moments for both of them – and little did they know that their path would soon intersect with that of a mysterious stranger, setting in motion a chain of events that would shape their destinies in ways they couldn't yet fathom.

Suddenly, their footsteps halted as Mabel's keen eyes, bright with curiosity, locked onto something unusual further down the beach. A gasp escaped her lips, her heart quickening with intrigue and concern. Without a second thought, she surged forward, her slender legs propelling her, and she started running toward an unknown something.

"Mabel, wait!" confused at her friend's sudden action, Jasper followed suit behind her. "Mabel!" Jasper called her again with an increasing sense of urgency as Mabel did not answer his call. "What's the matter?"

"There is – someone – laying – on the sand – up ahead," said Mabel, trying to answer Jasper's question while running, her breaths panting. "They seemed unconscious! They might be hurt!"

Understanding passed through Jasper's face. He quickened his pace to catch up with his adventurous friend, his large frame moving with an unexpected grace. Mabel reached the unknown figure first. With a mixture of concern and determination, Mabel knelt down on the side of the prone figure, her movements gentle as she extended a hand to assess their condition. Her fingers trembled slightly, a reflection of the emotions that surged within her—a blend of empathy, curiosity, and a deep-rooted desire to help.

That unknown figure was in fact – as strange as it might seem – Leia. She had been transported here from her own world when the strange portal opened during her attempt to flee from her pursuers, throwing her straight to Funwari Island in the midst of the raging storm last night.

"Jasper, look!" Mabel's voice quivered with a mixture of worry and urgency as she looked up from the unconscious figure to her friend's face – who had caught up to her and was now standing beside her. Mabel's eyes were fixed on the injured stranger before her, their brow furrowed with concern. "It's a young girl. She looks hurt… We can't just leave her here."

Jasper assessed the unconscious girl cautiously, his presence a silent reassurance to Mabel. He crouched down beside his friend, carefully looking at the girl's features from top to bottom. She looked strange, even her clothings were unusual. It was easy to tell that she was not a resident of Totto Land.

"Haven't seen her here before… she must not be from around here," Jasper murmured, his brows knitted together in a display of protective concern, his eyes flickering with a mix of wariness and compassion.

"Oh, can't we do something for her?" asked Mabel again, with increasing urgency this time. "Let's take her to my house and nurse her back to health!"

"Mabel, I know you are worried, but we must proceed with caution," Jasper warned, his voice a steady murmur. "I mean… we don't know who she is or what she might be capable of. She might even be a Devil Fruit user, or an enemy pirate crew. We can't just… randomly take her in."

Mabel bit her lips. She knew that her friend was correct, yet her strong sense of empathy prevented her from leaving a tattered, exhausted Leia back on the sands where she found her. After a few moments of contemplation, Mabel drew in a deep breath and mustered her courage – her gaze shifting from the stranger to Jasper and back again. Resolute, she finally made a decision.

"We can't leave them here, Jasper," she declared, her voice laced with unwavering determination. "We need to get them help. It's the right thing to do."

Jasper nodded, his features softening. "You're right," he acknowledged, his voice carrying a mixture of reluctance and understanding. "We should take them to the town's doctor. They'll know what to do."

Grateful for his support, Mabel smiled at her loyal friend. "Thank you, Jasper. Let's get them back to town quickly."

With Jasper's strong arms cradling Leia's fragile form, they began their journey back, their words temporarily suspended as they focused on the task at hand. The weight of their unexpected encounter and the mysteries surrounding the unconscious stranger hung in the air, leaving them with a mix of apprehension and curiosity about the events that were about to unfold.

Please leave a review! Your reviews are my mojo!

[yourtravelpartnermanthan]

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[underground-hiphop]

Sick Symphonies - In this Lifetime (Official Video) (HD) (Psycho Realm)

[everest-threepass-trek]

The Ultimate Guide to Everest Three Pass Trek

Embarking on a journey that takes you through the heart of the towering Himalayas, the Everest Three Pass Trek is a breathtaking odyssey that promises adventure at every step. This exhilarating trek challenges both the physical and mental limits of adventurers, offering unparalleled views of the world's highest peaks. In this comprehensive guide, we unravel the secrets of the Everest Three Pass Trek, inviting you to explore the majestic beauty and conquer the heights of the Everest region.

A Symphony of Peaks: The Three High Passes At the heart of the Everest Three Pass Trek are three formidable high mountain passes – Kongma La Pass (5,535m), Cho La Pass (5,420m), and Renjo La Pass (5,360m). These passes serve as gateways to spectacular vistas of Everest, Lhotse, Makalu, and a myriad of other towering peaks. Trekking through these challenging passes, adventurers are rewarded with panoramic views that defy description, making every arduous step worthwhile.

Base Camps and Beyond: Exploring Everest's Hidden Gems While Everest Base Camp is undoubtedly a highlight, the Three Pass Trek offers much more than the iconic base camp experience. Trekkers traverse off-the-beaten-path trails, discovering hidden gems like the pristine Gokyo Lakes, the tranquil villages of Khumjung and Thame, and the ancient Tengboche Monastery. These cultural and natural wonders add depth to the trek, providing a holistic experience of the Everest region.

Timing is Everything: Choosing the Right Season Timing plays a crucial role in the success and enjoyment of the Everest Three Pass Trek. Spring (March to May) and autumn (September to November) are ideal seasons, offering stable weather and clear skies. During these months, the trek showcases the Himalayas in all their glory, with blooming rhododendron forests and snow-capped peaks. Trekkers should avoid the monsoon season (June to August) due to challenging weather conditions.

Training and Preparation: Conquering the Heights Safely Conquering the Everest Three Pass Trek requires physical fitness and mental resilience. This section provides practical training tips, including cardiovascular exercises, strength training, and high-altitude simulation. Additionally, tips on acclimatization, proper gear, and altitude sickness prevention are essential for a safe and enjoyable trekking experience.

Local Guides and Teahouse Treks: Navigating the Everest Region The role of experienced local guides cannot be overstated when trekking through the Everest region. This section outlines the benefits of hiring local guides and porters, emphasizing the importance of supporting the local economy. Teahouse accommodations along the route offer a glimpse into the warmth of Nepalese hospitality, providing trekkers with a comfortable and authentic experience.

Capturing the Journey: Photography Tips for Stunning Shots Documenting the Everest Three Pass Trek is a rewarding endeavor, and this section provides photography tips for capturing the majestic landscapes and cultural nuances along the way. From framing the perfect shot of Everest to capturing the vibrant prayer flags fluttering in the mountain breeze, trekkers can immortalize their Everest adventure through stunning photographs.

The Everest Three Pass Trek beckons to those seeking an unforgettable adventure in the heart of the Himalayas. As you traverse the high passes, immerse yourself in the rich culture, and stand in awe of the world's tallest peaks, every step becomes a testament to your indomitable spirit. Lace up your boots, embrace the challenge, and set forth on an extraordinary journey that will leave you with memories to last a lifetime – the Everest Three Pass Trek awaits.

[highcampadventure]

Conquering the Heights: Everest Base Camp Trekking in Nepal

Nepal, a land of awe-inspiring landscapes and cultural diversity, is a paradise for trekkers and adventurers. Among its many gems, the Everest Base Camp trek stands as a crown jewel, offering a once-in-a-lifetime experience that combines breathtaking scenery, challenging trails, and a glimpse into the unique Sherpa culture. This article will delve into the intricate details of the Everest Base Camp Trek, the well-crafted itinerary that guides trekkers through this journey, and the allure of trekking in Nepal.

Setting the Stage: Exploring the Everest Base Camp Trek

The Enthralling Route

The Everest base camp trek itinerary stretches over approximately 130 kilometers, leading trekkers through the picturesque Khumbu region. The journey commences with a thrilling flight to Lukla, where the real adventure begins. As you trek through lush forests, quaint Sherpa villages, and rugged terrains, each step brings you closer to the world's highest peak, Mount Everest.

Namche Bazaar: Gateway to the Himalayas

The trek's first major stop is Namche Bazaar, a vibrant Sherpa town nestled in the heart of the Himalayas. This acclimatization hub offers trekkers a chance to adjust to the altitude while immersing themselves in the local culture. The bustling marketplace, adorned with handicrafts and local produce, offers a glimpse of the Sherpa way of life.

A Journey of Awe and Achievement

Reaching New Heights: Tengboche Monastery

Continuing through the trail, the Tengboche Monastery emerges as a spiritual oasis amidst the rugged terrain. The panoramic views of Everest, Ama Dablam, and other peaks provide an ethereal backdrop to this sacred site. The monastery's ornate architecture and serene ambiance offer a moment of tranquility and reflection on the journey's significance.

Facing Challenges: Perseverance through Altitude

As trekkers ascend, the thinning air poses a challenge. Altitude sickness becomes a real concern, emphasizing the need for proper acclimatization and careful pacing. Our expertly crafted itinerary ensures gradual ascent, allowing the body to adjust and reducing the risk of altitude-related ailments.

The Sherpa Experience: Culture and Camaraderie

Warmth of the Locals: Sherpa Hospitality

Trekking in Nepal is not just about conquering heights; it's about embracing the local culture. The Sherpa people, known for their resilience and warmth, welcome trekkers with open arms. Their traditions, cuisine, and way of life enrich the journey, creating an unforgettable cultural experience.

Everest Base Camp: The Ultimate Destination

Finally, the culmination of the trek is Everest Base Camp itself. Standing at the foot of the towering mountain, trekkers are filled with a sense of awe and accomplishment. Surrounded by the icy majesty of Everest and its neighboring peaks, this moment marks the zenith of the journey – a memory etched in the heart forever.

Conclusion: A Triumph of Nature and Human Spirit

In conclusion, the Everest Base Camp trek is a symphony of natural beauty, physical challenge, and cultural immersion. The meticulously designed itinerary ensures both safety and the opportunity to savor every moment of this remarkable journey. As trekkers follow in the footsteps of legends, they not only reach the base of the world's tallest peak but also discover the depths of their own strength. So, embark on this adventure, conquer the heights, and return with a heart full of memories and a spirit forever transformed.

[wammyradio]

The Vault

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2014 POCOS PERO LOCOS SPECIAL EDITION (Music-Only)

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ARTIST SONG ALBUM MARKPART 1Ravex & Namie Amuro Rock U Trax 1:07Interview with Jimmy Church 4:49Rainbow All Night Long Down To Earth 26:34PART 2Interview with Fred Katz 0:00311 Creatures (For A While) Evolver 22:51PART 3Interview with Steve Perrin 0:00Sage Francis Sea Lion (Remix)1 Sea Lion 12" 36:07PART 4Interview with Eric Pincus MAINPART 5Interview with Woobly O'Balls 0:00Limp Bizkit My Way Chocolate Starfish & The Hot Dog Flavored Water 12:561 Featuring Saul Williams with Will OldhamDownload Part 1 (13.9 MB, 30 minutes 25 seconds)Download Part 2 (12.4 MB, 27 minutes 10 seconds)Download Part 3 (18.5 MB, 40 minutes 28 seconds)Download Part 4 (6.44 MB, 14 minutes 4 seconds)Download Part 5 (8.28 MB, 18 minutes 5 seconds)

THE ANNOUCEMENT (Music-Only)Published: 2014 April 1

ARTIST SONG ALBUM MARKIyaz Rule The World Rule The World (MP3 Release) 0:49Afro-Rican & Edwin Bautista Give It All You Got (Remix) Miami Bass Classics Vol. 1 12" (Compilation) 5:13Baby Bash Who Wanna Blaze1 Unsung: The Album 9:48Crooked I Not For The Weak Minded2 Not For The Weak Minded (MP3 Release) 13:50Yung Brodee I'm A Hustla I'm A Hustla (MP3 Release) 18:13Miliyah Kato Time Is Money Ring 22:40The Announcement (or, why Wammy Radio hasn't been podcasting... back then) 27:28Gangstarr Royalty3 Moment Of Truth 31:231 Featuring Snow Tha Product & Paul Wall 2 Featuring Snow Tha Product 3 Featuring K-Ci & JojoDownload (24.4 MB, 35 minutes 35 seconds)

THE RETURN (Music-Only)

ARTIST SONG ALBUM MARKPART 1Published: 2012 July 1Kanye West Mercy1 Kanye West Presents G.O.O.D. Music Cruel Summer (Compilation) 0:59Camp Lo Lucini (This Is It) Uptown Saturday Night 6:23The Gatsby Mary Sunshine ** EXCLUSIVE ** 10:14Mr. Capone-E Hydraulics2 No Regrets 13:42Stomper No Surrender3 Once Upon A Time In America 2 17:11Max & Sam Young Man Rumble (Alternate Version) Young Man Rumble 12" 22:37Made In Heights All The Places Made In Heights EP 27:02PART 2Published: 2012 July 25Slaughterhouse Throw It Away4 Welcome To: Our House 0:00AG Cubano Off The Chain5 Power Trip (Mixtape) 4:13Baby Bash Spoiled Lil' Bitch6 Spoiled Lil' Bitch (Apple iTunes Release) 7:21Carolyn Rodriguez P.I.M.P. (Purp Is My Perfume)7 P.I.M.P. (Purp Is My Perfume) 10:39Koda Kumi Slow8 Japonesque 14:27Sean Paul How Deep Is Your Love9 Tomahawk Technique 18:11Play-N-Skillz Richest Man10 Richest Man (Apple iTunes Release) 21:28Nas Reach Out11 Life Is Good 25:36PART 3Published: 2012 August 15Shaquille O'Neal Shaq Crack And Pun (The Bigger We Are)12 Shaq Crack And Pun 12" 0:07Baby Bash Break It Down (Alternate Version)13 Unsung: The Album 2:59DJ Khaled Hip Hop14 Suffering From Success 6:49Priscilla G I'm So Lucky I'm So Lucky (Apple iTunes Release) 11:18Far East Movement Where The Wild Things Are15 Dirty Bass 15:24Miliyah Kato Heart Beat True Lovers 19:09Omar Cruz Good Times16 Good Times (Apple iTunes Release) 23:57Common The Believer17 The Dreamer / The Believer 27:12PART 4Published: 2012 October 1Wammy Giveaway Wammy Rap: Latinos Stand Up Freestyle ** EXCLUSIVE ** 0:00Chino XL Latinos Stand Up (Part 2)18 Ricanstruction: The Black Rosary (Disc 2) 0:45Snow Tha Product Hola Hola (MP3 Release) 4:43Juvenile Picture Perfect19 Picture Perfect (Apple iTunes Release) 7:402 Chainz No Lie (No Hay) (Remix)20 ** EXCLUSIVE ** 12:06Big Sean 10021 Detroit (Mixtape) 16:08Roscoe Thank You (Alternate Version)22 ** EXCLUSIVE ** 21:28Namie Amuro One Thing (Singing Yeah Oh) Uncontrolled 25:401 Featuring Big Sean, Pusha T of The Clipse & 2 Chainz 2 Featuring Baby Bash & Mann 3 Featuring Mic MC, Krazy Race, Thief Sicario, Brown Caesar & Chino XL 4 Featuring Swizz Beatz 5 Featuring Pitbull, Baby Bash & Noreaga 6 Featuring Mickael, Lucky Luciano & Paula DeAnda 7 Featuring Lucky Luciano 8 Featuring Omarion 9 Featuring Kelly Rowland 10 Featuring Shelby Shaw & Pitbull 11 Featuring Mary J. Blige 12 Featuring Big Punisher & Fat Joe 13 Featuring Clyde Carson, Too Short & Z-Ro 14 Featuring Scarface & Nas 15 Featuring Crystal Kay 16 Featuring K. Young & Astal 17 Featuring John Legend 18 Featuring B-Real of Cypress Hill, Sick Jacken of Psycho Realm, Thirstin Howl III, Sinful of Tha Mexikanz & Frost 19 Featuring Lil' Wayne & Baby of Big Tymers 20 Featuring Chingo Bling, Maxo, Mo Miliones & Meta 21 Featuring Royce Da 5'9" & Kendrick Lamar 22 Featuring Kendrick Lamar & Slim The MobsterDownload Part 1 (20.8 MB, 34 minutes 22 seconds)Download Part 2 (20.2 MB, 34 minutes 20 seconds)Download Part 3 (21.2 MB, 34 minutes 13 seconds)Download Part 4 (22.9 MB, 30 minutes 43 seconds)

[suchalonelysunflower]

I gave you my heart (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Harry is trying to propose to you, but his family is getting in the way.

Warnings: Fluff. Angst if you really pay attention. Language. Mentions of alcohol (barely) Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry!)

Word count: 4.1 K

Author’s Note: Oh how I missed writing for Harry! And a fluffy piece nonetheless! Who am I? Well, this is a Holiday fic (non specific) and I’m also planning to do a 5SOS holiday fic by the end of the year, so stay tuned! 🌻 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are welcomed and encouraged! Please, I love to hear from you guys 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be on my tag list?

Picture form Pinterest. Title from the song “last Christmas”

Ok i know this is cheesy but hear me out, Harry proposing on Christmas with his family around.

Harry kneeled in front of you. His hands were intertwined with yours as he spoke of all the grand adventures you had and how much he adores you while your eyes filled with glossy cold tears. He couldn’t see his mum from where he was, but he could already tell she started crying as well while Gemma held her in a side hug, watching the scene they never thought would happen being displayed in front of them.

Words of praise left his mouth like a symphony, knowing that he will never get tired of praising you as the angel you were. Tears started forming in his eyes as he promised you a lifetime of love and adventure, hoping with all his heart you would say yes.

They all knew the question that was going to pop out of his lips any time now.

“So, Y/N L/N” He said, as the fireworks started to go off behind them “Will you marry me?”

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and with a smile you answered:

“You better wake up before I leave you in the car”

Harry opened his eyes in shock, cursing under his breath as he realized he had fallen asleep without realizing.

You were on your way to Anne’s house for the Holidays, just like you promised a few months ago when Harry finalized all his tour arrangements. You were very excited to see Harry’s family again, it has been a while since you got to spend any time with them as you accompanied Harry across the world for the most part of the past year. You love them with all your heart and it comforts you to know that the feeling is completely mutual - Anne practically adopting you the minute you came through the door as Harry’s partner a few years ago and Gemma quickly becoming your best friend over the span of a few minutes, bonding over clothes, movies and embarassing Harry stories.

Harry loved how much you and his family love each other, for that is all he asked. For him there are only three things that matter most: His music and his fans; His family and, of course, you. He felt really blessed to have you in his life during all these years, knowing that you love him just as much as he loves you (although he would always fight that he loves you more) You were his rock, his best friend, his world… and he cannot wait to put a rock on that hand to prove that to you.

He got the ring a few months prior, but he knew he wanted to marry you from the first moment he saw you interact with his family. He still remembers that cold December night when he came downstairs looking for you and you were sleeping on the couch next to Gemma. You have been talking all night and were exhausted by the time you both finished that bottle of wine. He stood on the entrance of the living room watching the cozy scene with a smile plastered across his face. He knew he loved you back then, but his happiness at that moment was unmatched.

He was so entranced by the picture that he didn’t notice Anne standing beside him.

“This one’s a keeper” She said in a low voice as she watched you both with tenderness in her eyes. But Harry already knew that.

And now, as you were driving the cold snowy roads of Cheshire, Harry drifted back from his fantasy waiting to come true. Thinking back and forward of the little velvet box that is hidden in his suitcase.

“Sorry,” He said with a yawn “Didn’t notice I fell asleep”

You smiled at him but kept your eyes on the road “It’s okay, love. I know you must be tired of the trip. That is why I asked you to switch seats and let me drive in the first place”

Harry stared at you for a moment, completely enamored by your thoughtfulness. He really was lucky to have you.

“Besides,” You joke “With your driving skills, we might get to Homes Chapel the day after the Holidays if we are lucky”

Harry rolled his eyes “Oh, bug off!” He said as he mocked annoyance, but his laugher soon joined yours as you continued your way towards his childhood home.

*

You let out a happy squeal once you noticed Anne standing in front of her house from a distance, wasting no time on parking the car so you could run up to her and hug her.

“Aww I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Said the matriarch of the Styles’ family as she crushed your body in a tight hug “I’m never letting you go a year without visiting us again!”

“It will not happen again! I promise” You answered with a laugh.

She let you go just enough so she could place her palm on your cheek, caressing it in a motherly way “You better! And in any case you could always run away from my son and come stay here for as long as you want!”

This is when Harry decided to interject. He was standing behind you, smiling at the exchange that was happening in front of him.

“Oi! No need for that now, mum”

Anne laughed as she went to hug her son, murmuring about how if he doesn’t keep an eye on you she would steal you from him without a second thought.

After a few more greetings, Anne ushered you into the house. The warm environment and the smell of a homemade meal made you feel at home.

You always loved to come and visit Harry’s childhood home. It reminded you of him, the real Harry you got to know on a more personal and deep level. The Harry that let all his walls down and let you in, welcoming you to his house, his family and friends and into his heart. The Harry you love with all your being.

“‘m gonna head and help mum with dinner” Your boyfriend said as he hung his coat by the door “You’ve been driving all day, love. You should rest”

He pressed his chest to your back and rounded his arms around your waist to hold you closer before placing a kiss to the shell of your ear. You hummed “‘m not tired. I don’t think I could rest till much later.”

“Still,” Harry said “At least try to rest? Don’t want you to feel sick and I know you’ll hate to miss all the traditions”

You sighed “At least that way I’ll get you to take care of me, right?” You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Always, darling”

You placed a couple little chaste kisses to his lips, pulling away from his grasp before he started to try and deepend them as he always does “‘m gonna go unpack my suitcase then. Want me to unpack yours?”

Harry was about to answer when the alarms in his head went off, reminding him of the little box you should definitely not find “Uh, n-no. I have to show something to my mum” He lied “I’ll unpack my stuff later. Thank you, though”

His response got you a little confused, but you just shrug your shoulders and turned around towards the guest room, aka: Harry’s old room. Letting Harry let out a relief breath once you went out of sight. This was going to be a long holiday.

*

Gemma arrived later that night. She didn’t even put her luggage on the ground before she caught your eye and ran to hug you.

“Oh my god” She said, hugging you tighter “I have so much to tell you!”

“Oh sure,” Harry said, walking towards her as she almost left you out of breath “I’m just your brother who you haven’t seen in a long time… Why should I get a hug?”

The older Styles rolled her eyes “Because I see you in every social media post there is you dork! Besides, I have had Y/N in my life rather recently compared to living with you under the same roof for almost seventeen years”

Harry placed his hand over his heart and mocked a hurt expression, making his sister laugh before she moved on to wrap him into a hug.

“I missed you, you wanker” She said, hiding some love in the insult.

“Me too, jerk”

“But I missed Y/N more” She said with a grin, pulling away from Harry and turning back to you. Intertwining your arms so you’d walk together into the living room “So, I was telling you…”

Hours flew by and before you’d realized it was almost 2 am when you and Gemma made your ways to your respected rooms. You noticed that Harry went to bed a little earlier and you guessed he would be asleep by now.

You found your boyfriend safe and tucked away in dreams once you opened the door. You smiled to yourself as you admired his sleeping figure sprawled all over the bed with one arm spread over your side, waiting for you to cuddle up against it.

A yawn flew through you as the exhaustion of the day settled in. You quickly changed into your cozy pajamas, did your nighttime routine and layed in bed next to Harry, who, as soon as he felt you by his side, pulled your body closer to him.

“Hi” He said in a whisper, kissing the shell of your ear.

“I thought you were sleeping, H” You giggled as you felt his hand caress your side.

“Couldn’t sleep well without you, you know that”

And indeed you did. Harry always complained whenever he was on tour that he missed you too much and that he needed you even more “I just feel better when I’m with you, love. I do better. It’s like you are my lucky charm or something” He’d always said before he convinced you to travel the world with him. And, to be honest, you did not need that much convincing. If you could spend all your living days with Harry, you would.

“Wha’ time is it anyways?” He asked.

“Late” You shrugged, turning your body so you were facing him “I’m sorry. We didn’t realize we spent all night talking”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows “Why are you apologizing for? I love when you spend time with my family”

“But I almost didn’t spend time with you!”

Harry chuckled “It’s okay, love. I know how my mum and sister can get whenever you are around. They love you almost as much as I do”

“Well, Gemma did say she loved me more....” You teased, making Harry scoff.

“Not possible” He pressed his lips to yours, trying to make your worry disappear “‘m serious, though. Don’t be sorry for spending too much time with them. I swear it 's fine. We could have time for ourselves at any point of the Holiday”

You murmured a soft ‘okay’ before drifting into a peaceful sleep. Harry watched you sleep for a few minutes, taking in the joyful peace that your presence gifted to him whenever you were around. Thinking about how he cannot wait to make you an official Styles.

However, that was not going to be an easy job.

*

As the day passed, you and Harry had less and less time for yourselves as Anne and Gemma got you two completely busy with different activities. From getting the groceries, to help one of them decorate the house or even to just take a walk. You were never not doing something.

And it wasn’t like a bad thing either. On the contrary, you were having the time of your life sharing all of these amazing traditions with Harry’s family. They made you feel welcome and cared for, something that was fairly new to you since you met Harry.

You loved decorating the House and baking cookies with Anne, and it felt so great to have a friend like Gemma around to take the seriousness out of a serious situation and just let you have your fun. But you would be lying if you’d say that you don’t miss your boyfriend.

Even though Harry was always just mere feet from you, he was also caught up in various activities and could barely spend any time with you and that was making him frustrated.

The Holidays were stressful enough, but for Harry this took a whole other level when he thought about the proposal and how many times he failed at getting you two alone so he could do it.

The first miss opportunity came when it started snowing the day after your arrival. He knew how much you loved snow because, in your own words, it made it all seem magical. So when he woke up early that day, he decided that now was the time and that he was ready to pop up the big question. He was going to ask you to play in the snow - just like you usually do - and make a snowman. But the surprise would come with the ring that would be on the snowman’s finger, ready to be placed on your hand if you said yes. Sadly, when you two got ready to go and play, Anne solicited yours and Harry’s help to go and take some food to the shelter that was not so far away from here, a tradition the Styles’ family have been doing since Harry was a baby. When you came back, most of the snow had melted and you were too tired to even think of going outside again.

The second time Harry’s plan got held up was on a frosty night. He had prepared a cozy inside picnic in front of the fireplace for only you and him. He knew that Anne would be out with some of her friends and that Gemma had plans to meet up with someone on a date, so they wouldn’t be able to interrupt in any way. He got a bottle of wine, a charcuterie board, some chocolate covered strawberries, a fluffy blanket and some candles to light up the dark room. He also made you change in your pajamas so you’ll be even more comfortable during the date. Everything went according to plan, his hand almost reaching for the velvet box he hid under one of the couch’s cushions when Gemma came early from her date, completely ruining the moment as she came into the room fuming because she got stood up. Needless to say he did not propose that night.

Harry was convinced that the third time was the charm. Since it was obvious he couldn’t propose in the house without being rudely interrupted every time, he was going to take you out for lunch and then go ice skating, one of your favorite winter activities. Yes, he was aware that it wasn’t his most elaborated plans, but he didn’t know what to do. Plus, he had talked to the owner of the ice skating pit beforehand, asking him to please let them have at least one hour of privacy so he could propose in peace. The owner even promised him to play the playlist Harry made for you and to add some special lightning to make the moment more romantic.

Feeling excited, Harry ran down the stairs to give you the news of your date. But his face fell when he saw you getting ready to go out with Gemma and his mum.

“Are you going out?” He asked as he saw you put on your coat.

“Yes,” You answered with a smile, but that smile soon felt when you saw the disappointment in Harry’s eyes “Your mum asked me and Gemma to go for a last minute shopping run… Harry are you okay, love?”

Your boyfriend closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he acquired whenever he was frustrated “‘m perfect” He mumbled, turning around to go back to your shared room.

But you were quicker as you grabbed him softly by the arm to make him stop in his tracks. Slowly making him turn around so he was face to face with you “Don’t lie, H. What is going on?”

“‘m just,” He started, but he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as he tried to find the right words to say to you, almost feeling like he is failing you somehow “We never got the chance to spend some time together, Y/N. You are always busy or I am always busy with my mum or with Gemma that I almost didn’t see you this whole trip and I-I just miss you”

Your eyes softened and your heart fluttered with his words. You missed him too, much more than you could say. Everytime you find some time for yourselves you get interrupted and by the end of the day you are both too tired to do anything else besides sleeping. You could tell Harry was frustrated by this whole ordeal, you just didn’t imagine it would affect him this much.

You cupped his cheek and brought him into a sweet kiss “I miss you too, love. Very much” You watched how Harry’s green eyes softened, but they still held an unspoken sadness “If you want me to stay with you, then I’ll stay with you. I don’t need to go with them, you know?”

Harry sighed, placing his hand over yours and caressing it with his thumb “I know” He said as he gave a kiss to your palm “You know how much I love seeing you hanging out with them and I know how much you enjoy it. You should go”

“But Harry-”

“Go, have fun!” He said in a cheerful tone as he brought you closer to give you a hug “I’ll be fine, love. I just want you to remember this Holiday and to enjoy it as much as you can”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay if you-”

“‘m sure,” He smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Go, darling. They must be waitin’”

You smiled back at him and pecked his lips before turning around and closing the front door. Missing for just a second the way Harry’s smile dropped as he saw his plan being shut down once again.

*

He wasn’t proud of his last resort. He knew you deserved an epic proposal, something that could come out from an Oscar winning movie. Something that was as special as you are. And he was beating himself for ruining every chance he’s got to do this properly, but he promised himself that he would not let you - nor him - return home without a shiny rock on your hand. And a Styles never backs down from a promise.

So, with his heart almost beating out of his chest, he placed the gift bag with the other gifts that adorned the living room. Everything will be done tomorrow and there is no turning back now. It was now or never.

The next morning, you found yourself caught up in another Styles’ tradition. You were all sitting in the living room wearing your coziest pajamas as you drank hot cocoa and ate some gingerbread cookies with a pinch of peppermint. It was almost time to open the presents and you could tell Harry was feeling rather anxious.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked as you curreled up to him on the couch that was facing Anne and Gemma, who were already starting to distribute the presents among you.

Harry hummed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, turning his face so he was looking at you. He could swear in that moment that he has never seen someone as beautiful as you right now as you watched him with doe eyes, your hair a little bit messy and a thin layer of chocolate decorating your upper lip. He was completely and utterly in love with you.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

You shrugged “You were tossing and turning a lot last night, almost like you were nervous or something. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Harry smiled “I got you, don’t I? How could anything not be alright?”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesy remark, but quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed.

“I asked Anne and Gemma to give us a day for ourselves” You said after a moment. Harry looked at you surprised. You couldn't know..? “I told them I felt guilty that I haven’t spent any time with you since we arrived and they understood” You smiled at him “I got you all for myself today, mr. Styles”

Harry’s eyes filled with glee as he brought your lips to him, kissing you with all the love he could pour at the moment.

“Uh, mum?” Gemma’s voice interrupted the scene “I don’t think this is mine” She said as she opened a gift bag.

“No? It’s a jewelry bag so I thought-”

Gemma shook her head “No! This is definitely not for me” She said as she took the little velvet box from inside, making the room go completely quiet. In that moment, all eyes went to Harry as he watched the scene with horror.

“Oh shit” He said, untangling himself form you so he could grab the box from his sister’s hand “Actually, this is mine”

All three of you stayed quiet as he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of your sitting figure on the sofa.

“Oh my god” You said, covering your mouth that almost fell to the ground because of the shock.

“Oh my god” Gemma and Anne said in unison as they realized what was happening in front of them.

“Y/N,” Harry said looking into your eyes “Let me start by saying that this is not how things were supposed to go. And I’m not just talking about my sister opening your gift. I’ve been trying to propose for as long as this Holiday lasted. Waiting for the perfect moment because you are my perfect half, my soulmate and you deserve nothing less than pure and utter perfection, my love. And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you now”

You could feel the tears pouring down your face since the moment he kneeled in front of you, but hearing Harry say that he wanted to propose all along made you cry harder, how did you get so lucky?

“I knew I had to do this here, for this is the place where I knew I wanted to marry you the first time we came to visit. I have loved you from the very first moment you said hello, and I knew from that instant that you were going to become my favorite hello and my most painful goodbye. Y/N you are magic, my love. My lucky charm. Everything I do, everything I say or think or sing is for and because of you. You are my muse and my best friend. My anchor and my wings. I cannot live without you nor do I ever want to. You have bewitched me body and soul and I love you. I love you. I love you”

You could hear the distant sobs of Anne in the background, but all you could see was Harry. Harry, your best friend and lover. Harry, the person who filled your life with love and light. Harry, who was now on one knee, with tears in his eyes and a ring on his hand. Harry. Harry. Harry.

“You don’t have to say yes, but I really hope that you do. Y/N, my love. I love you more than life itself, you have made me a better man by loving me the way that you do. Let me love you the same now and forever. Will you marry me?”

You nodded through the tears “Yes, Harry. A million times yes!”

You swore Harry’s smile could light up the world in that moment as he slid the ring down your finger. But you didn’t even look as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him like his mum and sister weren’t watching, throwing the both of you to the floor.

Anne and Gemma started clapping, celebrating the new beginning of the young couple. Because these holidays had a new meaning now, since now and forever they will be remembered as the day you said “yes” to the love of your life.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @multistann @mystic-232

[aliteama]

Hello! Can I request a Gojo fic where him and reader (who is his wife) are teachers for the first years?

✧Fic✧

Gojo Satoru

✧ A lifetimes worth of love, the purest form of love no less. The one that had you going to sleep early all jittery with a love sick grin because you couldn’t wait to see them in the morning. The kind that had your heart thumping in your chest trying to jump out and grab onto them. It was so wonderfully painful, every heart wrenching obstacle made it twice as sweet when problems were solved.

Gojo Satoru was in love.

In love with the most astounding person, someone not strong physically but mentally as well. Whenever around you his words were as smooth as silk, every syllable rolling perfectly off his tongue and a dictionaries worth of vocabulary at his disposal. Every word clinging to the tip of his tongue was set free by that dreamy look in your eyes when you’d sit attentively trying to grasp onto his speech.

There was a symphonies worth of adjectives to describe you, and your pretty sure he had listed an abundance of them at your wedding. Half empty glass in hand as he put the spotlight on himself, friends cheering him on from their tables and watching him make a muck of himself. Emotions running haywire at your teary eyes when he finished his speech, the ache in his cheeks when you rised from your seat to pull him into a bone crushing hug while your guests hollered. Ever since the day the two of you exchanged vows and slipped on the gleaming rings Gojo never ceased to come up with a new word to describe you.

Waking up this morning with half shut eyes and frizzy hair he told you that today you were solicitous. You pondered about it all morning, when you leaned on him to brush your teeth side by side, when you stole eggs off his plate at breakfast, and when you were helping him button up his uniform before training. The definition hadn’t connected until you found yourself sparing with Itadori, utter admiration swiming in your chest at his fierce determination.

There was a parental sense around the first years, one that had you dozing off at night dreaming up a little family of your own. Whenever you would lecture Fushiguro about being to harsh with his words or when you would go out shopping with Nobara because she wanted your opinion on outfits, it all made you feel as if these were your actual children. The thought seemed so obscure, an actual family when things such as curses existed, there would surely be a downside to bringing a bumbling baby into a cruel world.

Pushing down his shades Gojo peered at your perplexed features, you were so easy for him to read it never failed to amaze him how open you left yourself around him. There was a buzzing in your eyes, a thought you tried to push back that was bothering you. Leaving Fushiguros side and pairing him up with Nobara Gojo sauntered towards you, his lips titling up at the sparkle in your eyes when you noticed him. Dragging his lips to your temple he connected your hands, his finger fiddling with your wedding band and spinning it around so the gem faced upwards.

“What’s wrong my love?”

There was a second of silence where you tried to piece your words together, in that single time frame Gojo had already connected the dots and grasped your hand gently to encourage you to spill the words for yourself.

“I was just reminiscing I suppose, thinking of the future as well..”

“Am i in this future your conjuring up?” there was a lightheartedness to his tone, he already knew the answer.

“You always have been” rolling your shoulders to the release the tension you pecked his cheek before moving off to monitor Nobaras progress, “And you always will be”

With doe eyes Itadori bounced on the heels on his worn shoes, his eyebrows furrowing at the simple interaction. Surely Gojo could read your mind, how else could he have known what to say to ease the air?

“Sensei! What did it feel like when you fell in love?”

“It felt like, seeing sunlight for the first time..”

There was a softness to his voice and behind tinted glasses his sky eyes wavered, utter enmore glazing over blown pupils. Reaching a hand upwards he watched the sun bounce off his ring, “It felt bright” closing his fist he tried to capture the warm rays before releasing his grasp.

“It’s a feeling you never want to let go of”

It truly was soemthing he wanted to hold onto for as long as he could. Every day stored in his mind to replay when he missed living in a particular moment. Certain things more vivid than others. Like how you waited by the door one morning only for Itadori to approach you with some secret handshake the two of you forgot the next day. Or how you once bought Fushiguros shadow dogs leashes so the two of you can walk them around the park. A personal favorite of his was when Nobara had dragged you out shopping and bought matching hoodies for everyone to wear in the winter.

Yea. Gojo satoru was in love.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Renewal

...........this one absolutely kicked my ass today, it took me forever to get anything done lol

also, for the anon that asked for the prompt of rowan dancing with their daughter, i finally got around to it!!

cw: a lil bit of angst, like a tiny bit but otherwise its just fluff

1.1k words

enjoy! :)

It was the perfect spring day, the soft breeze sent the delicate smells of the wild-flowers that grew in Oakwald Forest. With her Fae hearing, Aelin could hear the gentle rushing of the river stream and the happy buzzing of bees.

Aelin spotted the Royal Painter working away, but soon Aelin's eyes found Rowan's as the Priestess stepped forward and began the speech of thanking everyone for coming to Aelin and Rowan's vow renewal after twenty-eight years of marriage—and what a blessed marriage it had been, the young priestess pointing towards their children that sat in the front row, dressed in finery and their hair neatly brushed and styled.

Aelin looked away from Rowan for a brief moment to take in her children. Everyday was a sharp reminder of how they were growing. Elentiya was fifteen now, Norrin was twelve, Alder nine, Isolde six and Elowynn was four and a half (who was considerably distracted by the Little Folk watching from the trees and bushes surrounding them). It still felt like yesterday when she held them all in her arms, falling asleep against her chest as she marvelled at the life that she and Rowan created.

Rowan laced his fingers through hers, bringing Aelin back into the present when she realised that it was time for the handfasting ceremony.

The ribbon was simple braided cotton rope, decorated with charms that the children had picked out months ago. There were personal charms that the King and Queen had picked out hidden among their children's.

When it was time to say the vows, Aelin recited hers in the Old Language, having secretly studied the language for years with her rare free time. She would never forget the unrestrained, glorious smile that Rowan responded with. And even though they weren't supposed to kiss until the priestess said so, her mate rushed forward and kissed her once she was finished. Aelin melted under his touch, nearly thirty years together and he still got her heart racing.

His vows were said in the Old Language, too, and despite their children only a couple feet away, with their loved ones around them, it was like they were the only two souls in the world.

“To whatever end, Fireheart,” Rowan said, his accent stronger when he spoke the Fae language.

“To whatever end.”

X X X X X X X

Perched on Rowan's lap, Aelin watched as her friends circled around the room, talking, eating and dancing when the band started anew.

She had no reason to be sad, but each time she saw her friends, they always looked a little bit older. Chaol's hair was half grey, half brown, his frame thinner, too. Dorian's eyes were wild with crow's feet, the lines more pronounced when he laughed or smiled.

Even Evangeline was grown now, when sometimes Aelin still saw that young girl that helped the Queen win back her kingdom.

She told herself that it was good, in a twisted way—that her friends got to live, and love and help rebuild the world, but one day, they would all leave it behind, as would their children, and their grandchildren when the time came about.

And Aelin didn't want that to happen. Hated that they were not immortal like her and Rowan and Fenrys. Gods, Aelin was fairly certain that she would even miss Lorcan when he died—his pitch black hair showed thin little lines of grey, too.

Rowan ran a hand up and down her bare arm, smoothing away the distress she must have sent down the bond.

Happy things, she was to think of happy things on her wedding day. Like how her mate's eyes darkened when he saw her walking down the aisle, the metallic gold velvet dress hugging her body almost indecently.

She knew that if they were alone, the dress wouldn't have lasted ten seconds without him ripping it off her and having his wicked way with her, right on the forest floor.

Happy things like how the day after tomorrow, they were leaving for Suria for a week and a half to stay in a manor house near the beach. It was just going to be the two of them, alone for the first time in who knew how long, and clothing was completely optional. All the loud, uninterrupted sex they were going to have.

Happy things like how handsome Rowan looked in his dark green and silver embroidered tunic and dark brown pants and polished boots.

Happy things like how her children were all dancing together and laughing and Lysandra dragging Aedion onto the marble floor to dance with her. Chaol and Yrene talking with their grandchildren.

Happy things like the bright smile that Elentiya wore as she made her way over to Aelin and Rowan.

Their eldest looked radiant in a silk dress the shade of purple wisteria. It was rare to see her dressed in such a fashion, because while she did inherit Aelin's admiration of fashion, Elentiya was very much like her father in the regard that she preferred simple and practical clothing and fabrics for day to day life; but today was special and Elentiya had picked out the dress herself, as well as the silver shoes and silver earrings and necklace.

Elentiya sat on Aelin's lap, the Queen's arms going around her daughter and she wiggled her toes in her shoes, telling her parents about the silly things that Dorian was talking about earlier. Mother and daughter picked at Rowan's half eaten chocolate hazelnut cake (nearly thirty years together, and he still didn't like sweets, but tolerate them from time to time. Aelin was determined that she would get him to like the treats at one point in her long life).

All three of them spoke among themselves when suddenly, Elentiya left Aelin's lap and smiled at her father.

“Papa, will you dance with me, please?”

“Of course,” Rowan said and kissed Aelin's cheek as she left his lap. Rowan escorted their eldest onto the floor, her hand tiny compared to his.

Aelin watched, joyful tears soon flooding her eyes as Rowan danced with Elentiya, picking her up and spinning her around, his smile wide as she giggled. They swept across the floor, everyone watching them now as they went through one dance and smoothly moved to another, their footsteps never getting tangled as the orchestra when from one symphony to another. They danced for a lifetime and Aelin would never get sick of the sight, never get over how much she used to hate Rowan but now loved him with every fiber of her being. How he loved their children and would go to hell and back and war again to ensure that they were happy and free.

The happy things were the most important in life, and with her heart near to bursting with love, Aelin crowned her mate and their child with bright crowns of fire and they continued their waltz, their smiles a mirror of the others.

[ceilingfan5]

“You don’t look too well.” Taako, sitting on the counter, sticks his leg out to stop Kravitz from going out the door. “You alright?”

“Of course I’m alright!” Kravitz is not alright. He’s starving, and it’s so hard to be this close to his boyfriend, with his beating heart and beautiful eyes and warm, freckled skin and that delicious smell of blood running just under the surface. Kravitz has to get out of here, but he can’t blow Taako off too badly, or he’ll clock that something is up. “I’m just running late is all. Good bye, love, I will see you after work.” 

“Nuh uh,” Taako says, and he pulls Kravitz closer, looks him in his dead red eyes. “Babe. Can vampires get sick?”

“No, that would be silly.”

“Then what’s up?”

If Kravitz could sweat, he’d be in a lot of trouble. 

“I’m perfectly fine, my dear, perfectly fine.” He kisses Taako softly on the lips and pulls away, the ghost of warmth still flirting on them. He almost touches them like a teenager after his first kiss, and Taako grins. “Kiss me again.” 

“I really should-”

“You won’t be that late. It’s fine! Kiss me.”

How can Kravitz resist an order like that? He lets Taako pull him into another kiss, this one sweet and long and deep, that warmth radiating out from his mouth, that precious heartbeat echoing in Kravitz’s ears. Taako is so perfect and alive, an absolute treasure to preserve as is for a thousand lifetimes. It’s so hard to imagine hurting him for any reason, especially one so selfish.

But he’s so hungry. He hasn’t fed in a long time, too busy spending time with Taako and working to make sure Taako can live a nice life, so that their cats can eat like kings and play like little princes. Domestic and wonderful, but so fragile, so delicate. 

“You’re hungry,” Taako admonishes. 

“I am not-”

“Your stomach just growled and you’re looking at me like I’m a big fat greasy turkey leg wrapped in bacon.”

“I- I’m so sorry. I’ll just go-”

“Don’t you dare! You can have a quick bite. Kind and generous Taaako will allow it. You need energy before work. It’s fine.”

“Taako, I couldn’t possibly-”

“It doesn’t hurt. So long as you control yourself, I’ll be right as rain, got it?” 

“You make it so difficult to control myself, Taako,” Kravitz whispers. Something flashes in Taako’s eyes.  

“Go on,” he dares. “Bite me.”

Kravitz is too hungry to resist direct permission, and after a moment of chewing his own lip, he presses a kiss to Taako’s neck…he sinks his teeth into his love with reckless relish. The pressure of the venom in his mouth is instantly relieved, and Taako moans softly, burying a hand in Kravitz’s hair and holding him right where he belongs. Kravitz slips his teeth out and sucks at Taakos neck, the symphony of his life dancing on his tongue, the taste of him taking him for a ride. 

He shouldn’t do this. It’s so dangerous. But Taako wraps his legs around Kravitz and pulls him close, his whole body relaxing because of the venom, and Kravitz is encouraged to take more and more, finally feeling real and whole again, finally coherent and lithe and dangerous. Finally full. 

He could take more. It would be so easy. He could take it all. But it wouldn’t be worth losing Taako, or mourning him, or explaining to the neighbors what happened. Let alone the authorities. But most of all, Kravitz would miss that smile, that attitude, those starry freckles across warm skin, and the kisses...oh, the kisses. He finally pulls off, panting, and buries his face in Taako’s chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry I am what I am… I’m so sorry...”

“You are perfect, and I happen to like you very much, and I’m going to make you late to work.” Taako tilts his face up and steals him for another kiss. He shivers at the taste still on Kravitz’s tongue, but he’s not afraid. How Kravitz met such a perfect man is beyond him, even after all this time. 

“You are?” Kravitz frowns. 

“Call your boss, Casanova. You have a standing--well. A kneeling appointment.” 

[babbushka]

I hope I made it under the wire! Can you use this prompt for Flip, please? “Say my name. Keeping saying it. And when you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.” Thanks, Z!!!

Anonymous said: ‘I’m your husband. This is my job.’ Please with Flip. I’d love it if you could do this one, but make it playful and smutty! Omfg I loved Hide Your Smile!!! Sorry you’ve been dealing w haters recently. You’re amazing!

(multiple orgasms, sloppy rough sex)

He’s got you wedged between his body and the wall, Flip does. Caged in, stomach pressed up against the smooth wallpaper, hands desperately seeking purchase. The pattern makes you dizzy, but you’ve got your eyes closed anyway, mouth dropped open, throat clicking from drool as Flip sucks on your neck, bites at your shoulder.

You’re getting the fucking of a lifetime, as his front is flush against your back, his cock buried to the hilt.

Neither of you are naked, and you regret that so strongly because you’re sweating up a storm in your pretty clothes, in your matching outfits as fat tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks. He’s fucking come back into you, thick ropes of his own load coating his cock. He’s three orgasms in so far, but he’s still hard – you keep him hard, keep his cock stiff, and if it’s stiff, he’s fucking you with it.

“Fuckin’ – oh my god honey.” You babble, cheek squished against the wall as he kicks your feet apart. Your knees keep involuntarily closing to try and trap his cock inside you, but he’s not done, not done thrusting hard into your pussy.

“I know, I know, tell me about it ketsl.” He grunts out, deep deep deep voice sending shivers down your spine from where he’s marking you up all over, teeth lips tongue bruising your exposed skin.

“I – I – I – Flip!” You cry, hiccup out as you push yourself back against him, sloppy, so sloppy, sticky and soaked through.

You don’t know how many times he’s made you come – five? Six? They all seem to blur together, a fireworks display inside your cunt and rattling around your skull as he drags his cock against your walls. He feels huge, feels impossibly big and thick, hot hot hot as he pulses more come into you with a grunt, the sound of it splattering onto the floor a sick symphony in your ears.

“Say my name. Keeping saying it. And when you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.” He pants, voice thick, and you throw all inhibitions to the wind and do exactly as he’s told you.

“You’re so mean – awful – oh!! Oh Phil I’m gonna die – Phil, fuck! Phil!” Your shut eyes squeeze tighter as your knees give out, as you come again on his fingers as they roll your clit while he dumps his come inside your pussy, makes a mess out of you, a sloppy filthy mess, squelching with a mix of your come.

“Can’t die, not yet baby, not until I get another one out of you.” He shakes his head and you wail, sob sob sob from pleasure at the thought of another one.

“B-but – yes! Oh Phil, please, please -- !” You whine cry beg, not even really knowing what it is you want, what it is you’re asking for. Whatever he’s giving, whatever he’ll give you, you want it, and more.

And he does, he does give it to you, holds you up when your legs shake so badly that they can’t support you anymore, follows you down onto the ground and lays you gently on your back so he can hike your legs up over his shoulder, can stretch your pussy around his cock from a new angle, and you come again with his name on your lips.

Only then does he finally begin to slow, thrusting more gently with each roll of his hips, until he’s just moving out of habit, body on autopilot whenever he’s got the opportunity to fuck his cock into you. He kisses you gently, so sweetly, cigarette breath clouding your head, making you smile.

The only thing you can really do is smile, blissed out of your fucking mind, arms too pleasure weak to even lift them and card your fingers through his hair. He looks so smug, the sonofabitch, and he has every right to be. All your nerves are trembling, your muscles fluttering, your vision still nearly entirely whited out.

“I can’t move, and this is all your fault.” You giggle, riding the high, and he only licks his hips and kisses the corner of your mouth, watching the way a smile lights up your face.

“I’m your husband ketsl. This is my job.” He struggles himself to reach up and brush your hair away from your eyes, sweat-sticky and piecey from the pounding he gave you.

Your giggles turn to embarrassed groans as you try and hide under his chin, reality slowly slowly slowly coming back to you.

You’re on the floor, of your friend’s guest bedroom, after having snuck away from a dinner party, which turned game night, which absolutely everyone most likely stopped to listen in on whatever the fuck you two were doing up there.

“We’re never gonna get invited over again.” You bury your face as laughter shakes through you, and Flip’s deep rumble wraps around you in a warm embrace.

“Ketsl you’re out of your mind if you think they don’t want a piece of this action.” He replies with a roll of his eyes, and you wish you had the strength to swat at his arm, but a kiss to his lips will have to do instead.