#dame venus

[haremask]

on Dame Venus, from Pillars of Tubal Cain by Michael Howard & Nigel Aldcroft Jackson

[nugulover69]

Went to find a song by Tackey & Tsubasa and most of their catalogue has been nuked from youtube aside from <2 month old uploads. sasuga avex

[inlovewithaspiderguy]

AH SA REUM JE ME SUIS COGNE CONTRE LA MARCHE DU QUAI DU TRAM JE SUIS TOMBÉ ÇA FAIT TROP MAL

[the-poke-nebula]

Each Muse and their Region of Origin (Under cut bc length)

Born in Hoenn, has ancient Hisuian roots.

Born in Galar, has ancient Hisuian roots.

Kantonian

Unovan on their mothers’ side, Hoennian on their fathers’

Will eventually be born in what is modern day Sinnoh. Country barriers are tough when you live in a Nuclear Wasteland.

Galarian

Half-Galarian, Half Eridian-Draconid

ALL THESE MOTHERFUCKERS PUREBLOOD ERIDIAN DRACONIDS FROM TAIRNEANACH

Luuwan (Egypt Fanregion)

Johtoan

Kantonian

Hoennian

Unovan

Uplyrian (Fanregion- no discernible location.)

Unovan

Uplyrian

Zenturian (Fanregion- no discernible real-world location)

Rebornian

Kantonian

Not even they fucking know-

[hidekomoon]

I stole @ultravioletness’s idea and made some painting collages (click for better quality. or not) (my other edits are here)

1. The lady in Evelyn De Morgan’s The Crown of Glory (1896) admires Waterhouse’s Siren (c.1900)

2. Godward’s Athenaïs (1908) and An Offering To Venus (1912)

3. Waterhouse’s Isabella (1907) holds Stanhope’s Morgan Le Fay (c.1880)

4. La Belle Dame Sans Merci (1893) seduces a nymph from Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus (1900), both paintings by Waterhouse

5. Waterhouse’s Ophelia (1910) finds Collier’s Sleeping Beauty (1921)

please reblog if you save! (except terfs, “gender critical” radfems and general transphobes, y’all can block me please)

[nanamiscocksleeve]

A Sheath for a Sword

Warnings: MDNI, Crack fic, crude language, PIV sex, dirty talking, slight foursome A/N: This isn't an actual WIP, I just got a silly idea and wrote it out. Hardly took any time at all. Kind of a Victorian era goofy, crack fic. Not in y/n format, just felt right doing it in third person. Not proofread. Image credit Masson on Shutterstock

A young woman is crawling weakly through a field. The feeling of thirst claws at her body. It's been 3 months since she's had cock. 3 whole months and she's starving.

In a desperate bid to satisfy her hunger, she left her village, only to be overcome by her own weaknesses now on her knees, crying out in desperation.

"Cock...a bit of cock...anyone please...so thirsty..." Her labored movements drain her of the little energy she had, and she rests her head on the grass, panting, feeling her body succumbing to her basic needs. So this is how it ends, she thinks to herself. With a dry cunt and no prospects in sight.

She feels her thoughts becoming less cohesive, eyes becoming heavy and breathing shallow. She closes her eyes and waits for her ultimate end.

Unbeknownst to her, a merry order of knights were nearby and they had heard her pathetic cries of thirst. They march towards her aid, a trio of tall, strapping, gentlemen.

"The poor thing," murmurs Sir Geto The Long.

"Indeed," agrees Sir Gojo The Strong.

"I hope she'll recover," says Sir Nanami The Dauntless.

"Let's rouse her and see how she responds." Sir Geto rolls her onto her back and begins to pull up the various layers of skirts beneath her dress before he finally reaches the small strip of linen covering her pussy. He pulls it off and gasps in shock.

"I do say...look at it's state!"

Sir Gojo and Sir Nanami gather closer to see and they almost gasp in horror.

"I've never seen a cunt so dry!"

"Poor thing must be starving."

"She might have come from one of those old villages, the ones that took all the young men off to war!"

"She has traveled great lengths and gone without. We should put in our best efforts to revive her."

Sir Geto nods, gathering saliva onto his tongue. "I shall give it my best hawk tuah." With that, he brings as much as he can onto the dried pussy lips, spreading it onto her parched folds to offer relief.

The woman stirs, feeling something pleasantly lapping at her cunt, then shivers as her corset is undone and removed along with her chemise. Her eyes open a fraction, then she gasps as she sees two handsome men suckling on her titties, her poor, deprived titties, which would have been as dry as her cunt had it not been for the help of the salve the apothecary had made for her.

She clears her throat to get their attention. Sir Gojo releases her nipple, looking at her in apology.

"I'm sorry my lady, I hope you don't mind. You did look like you were in need of aid."

"I was. was looking for relief and must have passed out in the field." She gasps as she feels a tug on the womanly pearl between her legs. "Oh my! When I started on this journey, I was hoping to find at least one man to fill my venus cavern. I was never expecting 3! May I know your names, kind sirs?"

"Sir Gojo Satoru the strong." The white-haired knight introduces himself.

Nanami who had been licking her nipple this whole time lets go with a wet pop. "And I am Sir Nanami Kento The Dauntless."

"Dauntless?"

"He never backs down from anything. Never met a dame he hasn't satisfied, no matter how difficult she might be. Leaves the wildcats purring like house kittens by the time he's done!" Sir Gojo explains with a bark of laughter.

"And the chivalrous man between your legs restoring moisture to your cunt is Sir Geto The Long." Sir Gojo points the covered shape between her legs.

"Oh...long indeed, I can feel his tongue covering me all the way from the rosebud to the kitty cave!" she giggles and sighs as she feels her thirst ebbing away.

"That's not the only reason we call him that. You'll find out soon enough."

"Are you comfortable with us providing you with this assistance in a field my lady? We had no chance to ask since your condition was dire and you were unconscious. Would you prefer a room and a bed?" Sir Nanami asks as he tweaks her nipple with his calloused fingertips.

"Oh lord, no," she chuckles. "Outside is fine it's thrilling actually."

"Excellent! Well, we shall carry on. Please do not hesitate to cry out in pleasure when you have been thoroughly satisfied."

The woman lays back and lets them lick all her unused parts, feeling strength and vitality flowing back into her body with each flick and tickle. Sir Geto was doing an excellent job of bringing her withered petals back into health and she felt her moisture cavern growing even more wet in preparation for a meat sausage.

She cries out as her first orgasm in three months hits her, the noise echoing across the empty field, and Sir Geto emerges from underneath her clothes, grinning. She blushes as she sees his face, just as handsome as the other two that had been playing with her teats.

"I think I brought it back to life," sir Geto says confidently. "Would you like me to fill your glistening glove of love? Or would you prefer someone else?"

She considers, then admits. "I want Sir Gojo The Strong to break my abstinence."

"Yes my lady," Sir Gojo says with a grin. "Let me fuck thy fair maiden. And bring unto her a climax." With that he flips her back onto her hands and knees and begins to undo his armor. She makes small talk with the other 2 knights since removing armor single-handedly is no easy task. Sir Nanami and Sir Geto take turns lapping at her cave of wonders and pulling her breast pebbles to keep her moistened.

"In short, I thought I was going to die without ever experiencing cock again!" she was saying by the time Sir Gojo finished undressing.

"Quite fascinating my lady," he says, grabbing her hips and positioning them, before pushing his impressive flesh sword into her meat sandwich. She moans like a cat in heat, the exquisite feeling of cock filling her being. It was like being reborn, his erection bringing life back to her starved pussy like rain onto a drought-wrecked farm.

She groans and moans and giggles and sighs, enjoying the fucking of her pussy. "I would so enjoy a cock in my mouth as well sirs," she says looking at Sir Geto and Sir Nanami who begin to remove their own armor. Her eyes widen as she sees their forms.

"Now I understand why you're Sir Geto The Long," she says, measuring his dick with her fingers. "And Sir Nanami! Dauntless indeed! I would be too with that kind of sausage!" she looks at the veiny, glorious, monster cock on Sir Nanami's body.

"Well, feed me gentlemen."

Sir Nanami lets her taste him first, and she sucks him with enthusiasm, feeling her body grow stronger. Sir Geto plays with her nipples as he waits for one of her holes to get free. It takes quite an effort but she manages to get Sir Nanami to a climax, the salty cream from his cock sliding down her throat, an elixir to all her problems. At the same time, Sir Gojo also blesses her wet cunt with his cum, adding much-needed substances to her previously decrepit pussy.

Without wasting time, Sir Geto plunges into her as soon as Sir Gojo is finished. Cross-eyed and happier than she'd been in 3 months, the woman pants, tongue hanging out of her mouth in ecstasy.

"People talked about dry spells before. I thought they were lying. I thought it couldn't possibly be this bad," she explains between each gasp of air.

"Oh no, dry spells are not to be taken lightly. In fact, during the last one, they designated fuck bucks - young men with good vigor, to serve the women during the last war. But the crown's budget has become restricted with this war so they were unable to procure any fuckable men." Sir Nanami explains as he and Sir Gojo help each other with their armor, waiting for Sir Geto to finish.

Sir Geto growls like an animal, then plays with her clit, bringing her to her third orgasm and gives her another generous helping of seed to restore her parched lands.

She sighs in satisfaction. "Thank you Sirs. I really may have died here today."

"Tis no trouble at all my lady." They help her dress. "Would you like to come with us?"

"With you? Where?"

"We take our own quests and wander the lands keeping peace. Surely, you do not wish to go back to your cock deprived village?"

The woman considers, then shakes her head at the horrible prospect. "Indeed, no."

"Then ride with us. We will keep your cunt full, your belly fed, and your tits well suckled. Once our questing has ended you may wed us even."

"Wed? All of you?" The woman looks thrilled at the thought.

"Yes. All 3 of us. If it please you."

"It does!" She goes over to Sir Nanami who helps her onto his horse.

"Then off we go. For more adventures to cum!"

And they all ride away into the sunset.

THE END

@Aether-seawolf @Actuallysaiyan @Makingtimemine @snwvie

[greedandenby]

Transcript of all the French dialogue in Interview with the Vampire S2 E03 "No Pain".

You asked, yours Frenchly delivered. Bonne lecture ! (long-ass post incoming)

(did not use timestamps as these may vary, but rather scene descriptions)

Armand’s Children of Darkness:

Coven vampire: La mort punira toute infraction de la première et de la cinquième des grandes lois.

Armand sees Lestat at the theatre (performing Marivaux’s Le Triomphe de l’amour):

Lestat (as Arlequin): Ah ! Vous êtes donc des femmes !… (vous êtes deux) friponnes !… et par-dessus le marché, un honnête homme !...

Armand: Tu es le bâtard de Magnus. Je sais que tu peux m’entendre, mon enfant.

Lestat: Qui m’appelle « enfant » ?

Armand: Il est mort, n’est-ce pas ? Je peux prendre soin de toi. Je peux t’apprendre ce qu’il ne t’a pas appris. Viens à moi.

Lestat (as Arlequin): Mais de quoi s’agit-il, mes libérales dames ?

Armand: Viens à moi.

Lestat (as Arlequin): Encore plus honnête.

Armand confronts Lestat and Nicolas:

Armand (to the coven vampires): À la maison.

Coven vampires: Oui, maître. Désolés, maître.

Lestat (to Nicolas): Tu es si distrayant dans la fosse que je ne me rappelle plus du texte.

Nicolas: Je ne peux pas lire mes notes quand j’entends tes pieds sur le plancher… Nous allons nous faire attraper.

Lestat: Je l’espère… Entends-tu cela ?

Nicolas: Par-dessus tes incessantes divagations ? Comment pourrais-je entendre quoi que ce soit ?... Qu’est-ce ?

Lestat: Là… Quelqu’un me regarde.

Nicolas: Tu es toujours au centre de l’attention.

Lestat: Il pense que je ne sais pas qu’il est là.

Nicolas: Est-ce encore de la poésie ?... Viens plus près de mon oreille. Je peux seulement comprendre quand tu t’approches.

Lestat: En pardessus.

Armand: Gardes-tu ce garçon comme aide-mémoire ?

Nicolas: Lestat, connais-tu ce gitan ?

Armand: La solitude que tu ressens, il ne l’atteindra jamais. Sois avec les tiens.

[Side note: they translated « the loneliness you feel, he will not reach it » for « atteindra », but i think Armand is actually saying « il ne l’éteindra jamais », in the sense of « he will not extinguish it ». It makes a LOT more sense.]

Lestat: Et abandonner mon gilet à carreaux ? Mon col jabot ? Vivre comme une larve ?

Nicolas: Lestat, que se passe-t-il ?

Lestat: Rien. Il n’est rien… Bonne nuit, homme étrange !

Armand: Lestat ! Là !

Nicolas: Lestat ?

Lestat: Nicki !

Armand: Tu ne lui as pas révélé ta vraie nature, n’est-ce pas ?

Lestat: Quel est ce pouvoir ?... Je n’ai pas ce pouvoir !

Armand: Mais tu l’auras. Tu as le sang de Magnus. Tu gâches ton potentiel en menant cette vie-là.

Lestat: Relâche-le ! Relâche-le !!!

Armand: Et voici un buveur de sang !

Lestat: Qui es-tu ?

Armand: Je suis Armand. Je suis le chef de ton clan.

Lestat: Nicki !

Armand: Ramène ton gilet chez les larves, veux-tu ?

Lestat confronts the Children of Darkness:

Armand: Je suis heureux que tu sois venu. Il est sain et sauf.

Lestat: Il est saigné. Il ne se réveille pas… Est-ce si amusant de vivre dans une telle saleté et la puanteur ?

Coven vampire: Nous devons servir Dieu au travers de Satan et au travers d’Armand.

Lestat: Ah… Une trinité crottée.

Coven vampire: Tu vas attirer la colère de Dieu sur nous avec tes péchés !

Lestat: Qui sont ?

Coven vampire: Tu vis parmi les mortels ! Tu marches dans le temple de Dieu !

Lestat: Il parle de l’homme triste avec les mains clouées ? Ah… Bien. C’est un arbre tombé. Raboté simplement pour les simples d’esprit. Du même arbre, on fit le pied d’une table et, là, une flûte ! Rampez hors de cette prison qu’il bâtit pour vous… Dieu… Satan… Armand… Est-ce vrai ? Hm ? Nous sommes les Dieux. Vous êtes les Dieux !

Lestat visits Armand:

Lestat: Que s’est-il passé ?

Armand: Je pourrais parler jusqu’à la fin du monde sans jamais te dire tout ce que tu as détruit ici.

Lestat: Nous sommes seuls. Satan ne nous écoute pas… Comment transformes-tu l’air en feu ? Comment bouges-tu des objets par la simple force de ton esprit ?

Armand: Demande-t-il, tout en dansant dans les cendres… Tu as fait de ton Nicolas l’un des nôtres ? Est-ce que le garçon a accepté le don ?... Trop fragile. J’aurais pu te prévenir.

Lestat: Il s’en remettra.

Armand: Certainement pas.

Lestat: J’ai une idée.

Lestat performs for Armand at the theatre (again, Le Triomphe de l’amour) :

Lestat (as Arlequin): Oh ! Mes mignonnes, avant que de vous en aller, il faudra bien, s’il vous plaît, que nous…

(As Lestat) Ils viennent accompagnés, séduits dans un élan collectif. Ils rient ensemble, pleurent ensemble.

Armand: Qu’est-ce, pour un vampire ?

Lestat: Une opportunité. Hamlet est mort sous les coups d’une lame empoisonnée, mais l’acteur qui gît sous leurs yeux respire encore. Dans ce temple, croire protège. Annonce que tu es un vampire. Bois le sang à la vue de tous. Mets en scène les rituels de ton clan, pas depuis les égouts mais depuis le premier balcon.

Armand: Je n’ai pas de clan. Tu m’en as privé.

Lestat: Au contraire, maître.

(as Arlequin): Je n’ai encore qu’un commencement d’envie de n’en plus faire.

Outside the theatre:

… assouvir vos cruelles envies au théâtre des vampires !

At the theatre performance:

Victim: J’ai tant d’années ! Tant d’années !

Theatre vampire: Des années ? La mort ne respecte pas l’âge !

Armand: Regarde comme ils sont immobiles. Ils croient vraiment que c’est une pièce de théâtre. Des clous sur une porte à Wittenberg. Tu as mené une réforme, Lestat.

Lestat: Nous l’avons fait ensemble.

Armand: Tu fais une meilleure Mort.

Lestat: La faux fait tout le travail.

Armand: Après une centaine de nuits ici, tu t’ennuies déjà ?

Lestat: Seulement avec le jeu d’acteur… Allons-y.

Armand: Ici ? Maintenant ?

Lestat: C’est une loge spacieuse.

Armand: Il nous observe.

Lestat: Il devrait regarder sa partition.

Armand: Lestat… Je t’aime.

Lestat: Oui… Je t’aime aussi.

Aaaand that's it (for now), folks! Will do subsequent episodes if there's more French in them (more likely than not!). Bisous !

Episode 2 here

Episode 4 here

Tagging the peeps who requested: @nalyra-dreaming @indelicateink @chicalepidoptera @zailafaneez

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 2 -  La Valse de Paris

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

AuthorsNote: Chapter 2 of new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This details our reader settling into Paris and the outbreak of war. Benedict turns up next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Your first few weeks in Paris are a delightful blur. 

Spending late summer exploring the city - with Solène as your occasional guide and Eloise when she is not at work. You soak up every moment, from the windswept magnificence of standing atop the Eiffel Tower, your words being stolen by the wind, to the monastic silence of the Louvre on a quiet Monday morning. And everything in between - from Notre Dame's atmospheric incense-laden gothic darkness to the airy, resplendent glass dome of Galeries Lafayette that glitters like a prismatic jewel even on cloudy days. 

But perhaps your favourites are the little slices of city life: sitting watching the world go by at a corner cafe, the crunch and warm, pillowy softness of the first bite of freshly baked baguette as you wander back from the boulangerie, the lingering fragrance of the rose garden at the Château de Bagatelle in Bois de Boulogne... It's all pieces of a puzzle that fill your heart in ways that make your life before now seem drab, almost in black and white, like a photograph.

You have written to Stanley once since you arrived, effusive in your praise, a homily to your new home, however temporary. While proclaiming his happiness for you, his response tempered, a touch dismissive of your wonderment. I can scarcely believe any city could truly live up to the praise you so readily heap upon Paris, my love, he wrote back. That was a week ago, and your urge to reply has been muted. 

It's during an idle lunchtime by the Seine, eating a sandwich as you dangle your feet over the river wall, that you genuinely feel a local. An elderly French couple, likely visiting from the provinces, approaches you and asks you for directions to the Musée de l'Homme. Part of you aglow they think you sophisticated enough to look Parisian, and French. And you are able to help them, giving them the information in French, not fluent but sufficient that they are surprised when you confess “je suis américaine”.

In your third week, you secure the art gallery job Eloise had seen posted. An opportunity to meet many new people, primarily British and American, who share your love of art of all persuasions. You spend many a happy hour answering questions and building your knowledge of art, not just in your gallery but across the city. Part of you is wistful to study the subject in even greater depth than the books you borrow in copious quantities from the library where Eloise works.

You grow so close to Eloise so quickly that it’s as if you have known her your whole life. A sense of kinship, a near familial bond. You know, on some instinctive level, she will always be a part of your life somehow. Your evenings are often spent in lounge bars together—venues awash with art deco splendour as you listen to jazz through a cigarette haze and flirt aimlessly with a carousel of handsome men. Life seems so full of potential, a hum in your very being.

“What do you think the purpose of life is, y/n?” Eloise sighs as she flops onto your bed after returning from one such decadent night out.

“Aaaand we are done with the brandy…” you declare, taking the bottle of Martell cognac from her grip and placing it pointedly on the dresser, your high-handed point only mildly undermined by your own unsteady gait.

You collapse down next to her, the intricate ceiling rose around your light fixture swirling slightly before your very eyes.

“Love?” you hazard in answer to her question.

“Boo! Cliché!” she jeers, elbowing you good-naturedly.

“I don’t just mean romantic love,” you protest, “the love of family… friends…”

“Ah, yes, family. Endlessly large family. Don’t suppose you want an extra sibling or two, do you? I could be persuaded to let a couple go,” she squints comically.

“Depends… can I have the artist?” you jest.

“You have to stop staring at that painting; it's getting weird,” she opines with her typical bluntness, “and no, you can’t. You know he’s my favourite,” she pouts.

“I think he’s my favourite too,” you opine over a stifled yawn, any embarrassment about being called out for your unbridled admiration overridden by the sleepy state your comfortable bed lulls you into.

“If you end up being attracted to my brother, I will have to disown you, you know,” she pats your hand drowsily.

“Hmm, good thing he’s so far away…” you trail off with a lazy giggle, eyes drooping heavily.

It’s the last words you exchange before you both fall asleep on your bed.

–

Perhaps, as with all things that are too good, the idyll is temporary. It's the news you wake up to that following morning, September 4th, which throws everything into uncertainty. Solène knocks on your door early with an uncharacteristically sombre expression, wordlessly handing you the morning paper and flicking on the wireless on your mantelpiece, the fine lines on her face deeper etched, furrowed with worry.

‘La Guerre!’ the headline screams from the newspaper. And the voice on the airwaves, your ear more attuned to the language now, details how Britain and France have jointly declared war against Germany for their invasion of Poland a few days prior.

At the sound of the radio, Eloise emerges from your room, blinking and hair asunder, a little delicate from your previous night's revelry. You sip coffee at a loss for what to think or do. It’s an odd cognitive dissonance when life at once seems identical but also changed by an invisible shape - an undercurrent of fear, of the unknown, a punch to the pit of your stomach that you don’t know how to acknowledge - even as you go through the motions of your daily routine and head to work.

By the evening you are more phlegmatic about the situation. Your spirit dampened, yes, but not crushed. You feel an immense sense of privilege that conflict is not yet at your doorstep, but equally knowing being in the capital city of a nation that just declared war against a neighbouring country is not exactly safe.

You and Eloise splash out on dinner at an upscale brassiere that night, one you have both passed and commented you’d love to dine in some time. Both of you seized by the unspoken “what if”, the previous reluctance to treat yourselves entirely absent.

Talk on all the tables around you as you dine - on heavenly butter-soft steak - is about the war. What it could mean for Paris, fear of another major European conflict so soon after the last, the economic concerns - the bite of the early 30s depression just relinquishing its hostile grip on the somewhat bruised denizens.

Afterwards, you wander the cobbled streets back to your apartment, arms looped, bellies full, occasionally staring up at the starry night sky in mostly contemplative, sober silence. It’s a beautiful evening, but something in the warm breeze feels melancholic.

When you open the door to your building, Solène is waiting, rocking on her heels.

“Eloise, a telegram has come for you!” she announces, shoving a piece of paper into her hand. “And a telephone call from England earlier,” she adds, gesturing to the black rotary phone outside her place—the only one in the building.

Eloise gives you a brief glance and then opens the message. You watch her eyes ping across the text before her shoulders slump.

“My mother,” she sighs in explanation, “it appears she is summoning me back home.”

“What?!” the selfish reflex of not wanting to be left alone is the first thing flaring in you.

“It’s not fair!” she whines in a flash of child-like defiance before continuing in a more subdued tone. “She is sending my brother to come get me. She doesn’t specify which, but seeing as Anthony is a Lieutenant General in the Army and has likely been called to Churchill’s side, I'm presuming Benedict,” Eloise surmises. 

Your thoughts instantly fly to that painting hanging in your apartment upstairs. A strange flutter under your ribs at the idea you could be about to meet its creator. Quickly followed by a wash of guilt that you could even focus on such a frivolous thing.

“What will I do without you?’’ You fret aloud, grasping her arm tighter.

“There was a call for you too, y/n,” Solène pipes up. “Your father wants you to exchange your return ticket for a sailing home as soon as possible,” she relays.

“But.. I just got here!” your lament as defiant as Eloise’s. A frustrating sense you are losing a fleeting opportunity you already hold so precious - like a new toy being ripped from the meaty fist of a truculent toddler.

“Mes amis, what can I say?” that trademark Gallic shrug seizing Solène’s shoulders. “While Paris is safe for now, we do not know how much longer that will hold true… it is likely best you return home. Perhaps this will be over in weeks, and you can return?”

You know your parents have paid your rent upfront for a whole year, likely similar for Eloise, your landlady not impacted financially by your leaving, merely a wish for you to enjoy your Parisian adventures.

As you unlock the door to your apartment and wander in, both of you sigh; the illumination from the Eiffel Tower that refracts upon your window pane just adds to your melancholia, a sight that before had never failed to warm your heart.

“When will your brother get here?” your inflection dull.

“Tomorrow, most likely. It only takes a couple of hours to cross the Channel, and as you know, the train ride from the coast is just a few more. I expect he’ll be waiting for me right here when I return from work,” her tone is just as flat as yours.

You want to ask if she will pack tonight, but you stop yourself, seeing the flame that usually burns so bright behind her blue eyes dimmed. Wordlessly, you draw closer and pull her into a firm hug.

“I will miss you like a sister,” she whispers into your hair, returning the embrace just as fiercely, “maybe moreso.”

You nod and band your arms tighter briefly before letting go, bone-deep exhaustion overtaking anything else you see in her mirrored stance.

The last thing that captures your eye as Eloise turns to her room is that painting of her childhood home and, strangely, how it feels closer now than ever before.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[evans23]

Falling

Pairing : Hans Gruber x Reader OC

Summary : In the remanence of winter, Hans makes an unexpected encounter, which will bring a bit of peace in his chaotic life. Unfortunately, there is no happy ending for a man like him. 

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Smut. Angst. No happy ending here.

A/N : Enjoy dear reader 😁

Also read on AO3

It was a chilly afternoon in the middle of Spring in Kensington Park. It was your favorite park, even though you didn't really know why. After all, according to your parents, all the parks in London looked the same, but you disagreed with this assumption.

Also, you were slightly biased as you worked as a saleswoman in the little shop adjacent to the palace. You didn't like your job, but you loved the castle and its history. In fact, your dream was just in front of the park, in the form of a school called Royal College of Art. Unfortunately, after having got your A-level, you didn't succeed in getting a scholarship and your parents were unable to finance your study. Therefore, you started to work for a local McDonald's, and then, you found yourself lucky to get a job in the souvenir shop of the castle, thanks to a relative who ceaselessly reminded you what you owed him as the job was well-paid and not as tedious as your previous one. More than often, the customers, tourists for most of them, were far more agreeable than the ones who frequented the fast food, and you didn't stink of the greasy fries each night when you came back to your cramped apartment.

Also, the uniform was more comfortable and flattering than the horrendous one you had to wear and you could let your curly hair hang down your back without being reprimanded by your boss who was afraid of seeing one of your unruly hairs in the middle of a bag of fries. On the other hand, what should have been temporary had become permanent and while all you're friends were breezing through their plan life, you struggled to keep your own life on track.

That day, you had finished your shift in the early afternoon and as you weren't ready to face the loneliness of your life, all alone in your small apartment with a too expensive rent for so few rooms, you had decided, despite the coldness, to sit on a bench in the Walk of Flower to read one of your favorite book: "Notre Dame de Paris" from Victor Hugo.

You didn't notice the stranger who sat on the bench next to yours. You were too engrossed in your book for that and anyway, the park was well frequented by many people, locals, residents, or tourists for you to really notice them. 

However, there weren't too many tourists at this time of the year. It was still too cold and rainy. It will change in less than one month. The park, the street, and the castle would be crowded for six months or more until the winter settled anew, a welcomed calmness around the venue but also in the busyness of your work.

During the summer, you didn't have any time for your hobbies as it was busy as it get at each hour of each day. You often worked more than eight hours a day as you were always willing to help your overworked colleagues either in the shop, the little coffee, or at the reception, diligently searching the bags with your little flashlight, looking for anything suspicious or sharp.

“Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being, and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin,” said the stranger in a thunderous voice and with a perfect French if it hadn’t been for his slight accent.

Startled, you looked up at him. He was tall, his broad shoulders and his black hair adding something quite intimidating to his natural charisma. He also had a hooked nose which was nothing short of engrossing.

"I apologize," he said, now speaking in English, "it wasn't my intention to frighten you..." 

"[Y/N]," you said, your voice shaking a little bit.

He chuckled at that. He knew what effect he had on women.

“Nice to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Hans.”

He didn't know why he had given you his real name. Not that he was hiding in London. Actually, he owned a humongous and beautiful property only 30 minutes by car from the park. It was a secure place where he came after a rough mission or when he needed to vanish into thin air for his own sake.

“You're not from here,” you said, having recognized a foreign accent.

“Indeed,” said Hans who got up.

You looked at him from your bench. He was more intimidating up in front of you than before.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the bench where you were comfortably settled.

“Of course,” you answered, moving your bag to make room for him.

“So, you read in French,” he said as a matter of fact.

“I don’t understand everything,” you admitted.

"I believe so, Victor Hugo is a convoluted author, even for a native speaker."

“And where are you from?” you insisted, wanting to know where this delicious accent came from.

He chuckled at your persistence, yet he told you he was from Germany. Hans was able to imitate the British accent perfectly, but he hadn't felt the need to deceive you. You looked quite innocent, and you were. Anyway, how could you have guessed you were talking with a thief, a mobster, a criminal ?

He talked with you the whole afternoon. You understood very quickly that he was an educated man, with a lot of culture and a perspicacity you could envy him for.

As you parted, he kissed the back of your hand like a true gentleman, the one in your romantic books. You didn't know what had got into you to confide so many private things about yourself to a stranger, but talking to him was easy, and there was so much on your heart that you needed to confide. Maybe because you knew he was just a stranger that you would never see again had made things easier. You felt lighter but also disappointed to know that you would never see him again.

But Hans wasn't indifferent to you either. Hans was intrigued by you. He had already noticed you a few days before when you were walking in the streets to reach the metro station. You were wearing your work uniform, that's how he knew that to find you, he had to go for a walk around Kensington Park.

Hans didn't really know what had caught his attention about you. Your face was certainly pleasant to look at but it didn't stand out from the crowd, your stiff gait spoke volumes about the pressure you felt in your life and you had a disillusioned pout that probably didn't make many people want to get to know you.

However, there was something about you that had intrigued him. Enough to want to meet you at least once. He hadn't expected to see you sitting all alone in the Walk of Flowers. Walkers rarely sat for too long, the cold quickly numbing their hands and feet. And yet, there you were, reading your book, a book that Hans had read many times in its original version too.

He had been surprised at how easy it was to talk to you. You were intelligent, not as much as he was, but not everyone could come up with escape plans and high-flying heists, you had wit and a dry sense of humor that he appreciated. You also had that disillusioned look of those who had already seen too much to still be truly surprised by existence. Hans knew this expression well for having experienced it himself. 

It was a long time ago when he was a teenager dragged from home to home, separated from his brother, missing a father who died when he was only eight years old, and a loving mother. Their mother to Simon and him was an alcoholic who beat them for yes or no. It was often his big brother who suffered their mother's anger because he was not afraid to defy her or to come between her and his little brother. He remembered a day when his mother who had drunk more than reason and had just been dumped by her umpteenth boyfriend had destroyed the model airplane he was building for no good reason other than to make her son suffer as much as she suffered. She had raised her hand to hit him, but Simon had stepped between him and her, taking the slap instead of Hans.

Hans shook his head as if to make all those bad memories go away. It was a long time ago. When he was just a weak little boy. It was before the army that he had met an important man who was a member of German high society. Thanks to him, after his military service, he had been able to join the university where he had received a solid education in history, foreign languages, economics, and politics. Hans was intelligent and able to absorb thousands of pieces of information in no time. His eidetic memory was a real gift that had allowed him to join the Volksfrei where he had definitely hardened himself. So hardened that his ruthless behavior had earned him being kicked out of the organization.

He had worked as a mercenary for a while after that, but tired of having to answer to other people's orders, Hans had decided to become his own boss by carrying out his own terrorist activities with a group of trusted men in his pay. It had been a long time since the weak little boy had disappeared in favor of the man he was today.

And yet, your presence this afternoon had awakened something vulnerable in him. He wanted to see you again. He was going to see you again. He was going to make you his, whether you wanted it or not.

He thought about it, developing a plan to make you fall into his nets. He wanted to be subtle to give you the impression that you had had a choice. Little did he know that you were already partially won over to his cause. Indeed, the man with the imposing stature, the broad shoulders, and the nose of a Greek god had not left you indifferent.

He returned to Kensington Park two days later, waiting for your service to end. He watched you from afar to see you following the same path as last time to join the Walk of Flowers where you sat on the same bench as last time, another book in your hands.

"Did Victor Hugo get the better of your determination?" he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

You jumped, which made him chuckle.

"Hans," you said, a hand on your chest, "you scared me."

"Sorry, that wasn't my intention."

He sat down next to you without asking your permission, not that you minded.

"So, Victor Hugo?"

"Finished last night."

Hans arched an eyebrow, surprised. You had finished one of the most difficult books in French literature in two days and after admitting that you didn't always understand the formal language of the book.

"Test me if you don't believe me," you had challenged him when you saw the doubt etched on his features.

He didn't need to be asked twice and had to admit that you had read the book, which make you be more surprising and impressive than he thought you were at first glance.

This little game of cat and mouse had lasted several months. Hans could afford it, his last heist, the robbery of a Russian bank, had earned him enough to live on for the next ten years. Of course, he wouldn't sit idly by for the next ten years. He wanted more. Much more. Millions to be able to disappear forever and live the great life he had always dreamed of. Except that now, he wanted you to be part of his dream.

However, how could he involve you in his life without putting you in danger ? And how could you never find out who he really was ?

Some of his men had a woman in their life. One of them was even married and had a child, but was it really a life to have to hide who you really are from the person who shared your bed ?

Of course, Hans had had many women in his arms, but never a woman he wanted to spend more than one night with.

Six months after your first meeting, he had invited you to his secluded house. A large mansion that could have contained your apartment, your parent's house, and your big sister's house all in one. Hans had cooked for you and charmed you a little more with his words that flowed like honey in your ears and his German accent that made you shiver constantly.

A year later, you were an official couple, much to Hans's delight, who for once in his life hadn't had to fight too hard to get what he really wanted. And God may be his witness, he wanted you, loved you and he would never let you go. You lived at his place and while he didn't hide the fact that he was a rich man, you didn't really know where the money came from.

Officially, he had introduced himself as a businessman. But you knew that something wasn't right in what he had told you. The designer clothes he lavished you with and the one he wore every day, the jewelry he showered you with at every opportunity, the luxury cars and the incessant business trips, something didn't add up to what he was telling you.

Yet, he was a passionate lover and even if you had already seen his bad temper surface when something displeased him, with you he was nothing but tenderness and patience. A trait that no one would have granted to Hans. He himself was amazed at how much he could be another man with you. You brought a calm to his life that he had ignored he had needed until now. You were the calm in his tumultuous life as a gangster.

You had tried to question him several times, but each time, he had turned you down, sometimes harshly and you had ended up understanding that what he did for a living was a subject not to be discussed. You were not totally stupid and even if you didn't know exactly what he did to earn all this money with which he flooded you, you assumed that he must be part of the mafia. Or something like that. Something that should have made you run away, but you were already too much in love with Hans, too captivated by his mysterious aura and the danger that surrounded him to be afraid of sharing your life with a mafioso.

The fact that with you, Hans allowed himself to be softer, and more vulnerable, only made him more endearing. Your parents didn't approve of the relationship between you, your mother having immediately had doubts about Hans' intentions. But neither he nor you gave any importance to what others might think. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything else in your life, more than you had wanted to study at a prestigious art school or become the next greatest painter in the United Kingdom. You were hopelessly in love with the mysterious German man who had captured your heart and soul.

Although Hans was less demonstrative in his feelings, he felt the same way about you. You were the calm, the peace, in his hectic life. He found solace in your simple presence. Many times he had told himself that he had to end this union, that he had to push you away, but each time he had tried to do so by being cold and distant with you, your confusion and incomprehension at his sudden coldness towards you had made his heart melting and he had always come back more in love and tender than before, doing his best to be forgiven for his harsh behavior towards you during the day with a crazy and passionate night of love.

Hans wasn't naive, he knew that if he wanted to build something serious with you, he would have to put an end to his activities and disappear with you. At some point, he would have to confess the truth to you even if he was well aware of your suspicions and how close you were to the truth.

It was on September that he had a brilliant idea. An idea that would earn him millions. Enough to ensure a comfortable life for both of you in Fiji or anywhere that would please you. He was going to attack the CEO of Nakatomi Tower. A high-flying theft worth more than $600 million if he and his men played their game well.

But it was not going to be easy and his sharp mind had to prepare the best of plans. He had already worked out dangerous, complicated, risky cases, but this one was the most important of his entire gangster career. When a man steals $600, he can just disappear, but when a man steals $600 million, he knew that the police and secret agencies of the whole world will be after him. Unless they thought he was dead. However, he was no longer alone now and he had to think of you, which made the whole organization of his plan more difficult than usual, even for a gifted person like him.

His brother had warned him that getting emotionally involved with you was dangerous for him, but he had not listened to him, sure of himself as usual. Except that for once, Simon was right. The love he had for you was worse than all the enemies he had faced so far.

"Another departure Hans ? You've already disappeared all of October," you said wearily.

It was the first week of December and he had just told you that he would have to be away until the end of December on business trip.

"Work is work. You're happy to have nice clothes, to parade around in beautiful jewelry, to wear designer perfume, and to live a life of luxury. Without me, you would never have been able to quit this job that made you unhappy and to treat yourself to these art classes that you wanted so much," he pointed out more harshly than he had intended.

But he was tired of your reproaches. It had been the same for a few months every time he had to leave. It was stronger than you. You wanted to know the truth, a truth that he refused to tell you and it hurt you. Yet, you loved him too much to have the courage to leave him.

"If you think I'm with you for the money, then you don't know me very well Hans. Keep your clothes and your jewelry. I never asked you for anything! If you did it, it's because you wanted to!"

"Exactly! The best for you is everything I want and nothing else. We've been together for two years, you're an intelligent woman [Y/N], and you know that this life that I allow you to lead doesn't come without sacrifice."

You didn't answer because somewhere, somewhat, you knew he was right and even though you were frustrated by his unspoken words, you loved enjoying the life of luxury he was lavishing you with.

You sighed, closing your eyes and rubbing your forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Hans came closer and took your hands in one of his while the other gently massaged your lower back.

"Mein leibe, I promise you that after that everything will change."

"How?"

"You'll see. In the meantime, don't give me the cold shoulder. I don't want to go to the United States knowing that mein pearl is mad at me. I won't be able to concentrate if I know that you're angry with me," he coaxed you.

"I'm not angry Hans, I'm just... worried and... I'd like you to be completely honest with me."

"Mein leibe..." Hans sighed, "everything will change, I promise, but no more questions for tonight, okay?"

You nodded, still a little frustrated by his silences that separated you more than they brought you closer. Sensing the distance that your disappointment was putting between you, Hans placed a series of kisses along the back of your neck.

"Bitte, mein leibe, bitte, don't be angry with me."

"Hans..."

"Bitte," he whispered in your ear.

You turned your head and he took the opportunity to capture your lips. Very quickly, your kiss turned into a fiery passion. He hoisted you easily and you instinctively hooked your arms around his hips. He led you to the bedroom where he gently laid you down on the bed.

"You can't always get away with a quickie, even if sex with you is better than a pizza from Rudy's," you said jokingly.

"Mein leibe, I'm sure that my cock inside your tight pussy is the best way to have you under my control," Hans whispered with a predatory smile.

You gasped and your breath got caught in your throat. Hans's smile widened even more and with an expert gesture, he removed your t-shirt. You weren't wearing a bra to his great pleasure and he immediately went in search of your chest to suck on one of your nipples. You moaned in pleasure, your hands running under his t-shirt to caress his firm chest.

"Tell me you want me," Hans whispered.

"Hans..." you moaned under his caresses.

"Say it!" he ordered while walking two of his fingers near your entrance, delighting in your pussy swollen with arousal and your wetness that wet his fingers even though they weren't penetrating you.

"I want you, Hans. I need you, I need you inside me," you said breathlessly.

It didn't take much for Hans to help you getting rid of your skirt and stockings. You unbuttoned his pants and he helped you take them off, while with a quick gesture of his hand, he got out of his t-shirt which joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

He didn't bother with the foreplay, entering you directly. You were already so wet that he had no trouble sinking all the way into your tight pussy, moaning as he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

"Your pussy has been made for me, just for me," he whispered in your ear.

"I only exist for you," you replied, biting his earlobe.

He pushed himself deeper into you, the sound of skin meeting skin with each thrust echoing through the room, mingling with your panting breaths and Hans' deep voice whispering words of love to you in both German and English.

"[Y/N], my lovely [Y/N], if you knew what you're doing to me, you and your tight little pussy... HAAA... [Y/N]," he groaned, making you hornier still.

As you reached your climax, Hans pulled out suddenly, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being lost in your cunt. With a deft gesture, he turned you around and, your stomach pressed against the bed, he pushed in as hard as he had pulled out of your little cunt, tugging gently on your hair while his other hand was on your throat. He thrust faster, again and again until he felt the two of you approaching your climax. He then turned you to the side with one leg between yours and the other above yours, one hand still on your throat, the other cupping your breasts as he continued to thrust into you at a frantic pace.

"Hans, please, don't stop... I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"Come meine leibe... Come, come for me," he whispered in your ear.

It didn't take him more than two thrusts for your orgasm to shake your entire body with pleasure. Feeling your tight walls contract against his cock, Hans was quick to come in turn with an animalistic growl.

He pulled out carefully and you immediately snuggled up against him, finding solace between his arms, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. You quickly fell asleep, exhausted by the passion shared with Hans who stayed awake almost all night watching you while caressing your nipples with his fingertips, taking pleasure in seeing them harden under his caresses.

The next day, you woke up alone with a note on Hans' pillow.

Ich leibe dich. Hans.

Three weeks later

You were in front of the TV watching the Nakatomi Tower attack, tears flooding your eyes when you recognized Hans. In the end, he was not a mafia boss but a gang leader, a gangster, a thief, a criminal. And despite this revelation, your love for him didn't weaken.

You couldn't help but scream when the roof of the tower exploded, leaving the building on fire, and when the journalists announced that all the hostages had gone and the terrorists were out of control by a hothead working for the police. Later, the man named John McClane told reporters that Hans had fallen to his death from the top of Nakatomi Tower.

You fell to the ground screaming before curling up into a ball, sobbing and screaming Hans' name until you fell asleep. The next day, a man came to your house. He introduced himself as Simon and claimed to be Hans' brother. You knew your lover had a brother but he had never told you anything more about him. However, something about this man inspired confidence in you. The same confidence you had had in Hans. He returned the next day with a man with a gaunt and severe face, a lawyer who had papers for you to sign. Hans, afraid of not getting out of this, had prepared everything to ensure your future without him. Considerate, he had left you a fortune that could have benefited you for your next three lives. Except you didn't want a single one of these lives if Hans wasn't by your side.

A year later

Wrapped in a thick coat, a woolen scarf eating your face, you stood in front of a headstone, in the middle of a small, poorly maintained cemetery, in the town with the unpronounceable name of Schkeuditz.

It had taken you a while to make up your mind and come say a last goodbye to him, but the closer the anniversary of his death had got, the more you needed to be close to him, even if he had left you a gift that would allow you to keep him by your side forever and ever.

There was only a first and a last name on the grave. Hans Gruber. No words in his memory, no flowers. Just an unfortunate headstone in the middle of a thousand others. A name among many others, a name that no one would remember in a few years. No one except you, until your own death relieved you of the pain of losing your great love. You would never be able to get over Hans' death, you would never be able to love as you had loved him and you knew that no man would ever be able to offer you what Hans had offered you. You didn't think about the money and the luxurious life you continued to lead thanks to his thoughtfulness, but about his charismatic presence, the strength he gave you with just a look and the unyielding love you shared. The intimate moments that had made you closer than ever and how, even when you had tragically learned who he really was, you had loved him even more.

"[Y/N]," a baritone voice said.

You turned to acknowledge Simon's presence.

"You shouldn't come here."

"It's been a year today. A year since he... Nakatomi Tower... A year," you said, crying.

"I know. But coming here to mope won't bring him back."

"I know," you said through a sob.

"You're not supposed to be associated with him. Ever. Not now that a part of him is alive."

"No one knows he's his," you pointed out right away.

"And no one must ever know. Go home, [Y/N], grieve as much as you need, then start a new life, forget what you went through with Hans, pretend he never existed, and never come back here," Simon said coldly.

You knew Simon was saying that to protect you and the precious passenger waiting for you in the back seat of the car you'd rented to drive here.

"Go get to him before he wakes up and sees you're not here. I don't want my nephew crying. It's Christmas, and on Christmas, he should be the happiest little boy in the world."

You nodded and walked away, but not before kissing the tips of your fingers that you then placed on Hans' grave.

You got into the car and turned to the back seat, smiling fondly, though your smile didn't reach your eyes.

"I promise to be strong for both of us," you whispered so as not to wake the child who was fast asleep in his car seat.

Your heart was broken by the death of the man you had loved more than life itself, but as a testament to your love, he had left you with a good reason to live and fight. An eternal love that would live forever in the heart of your son. His son. Your son.

[lisaalmeida]

C’est une dame en noir au baiser envoûtant

Qui livre ses douceurs à nos lèvres gourmandes;

Sa peau a quelquefois le parfum des amandes

Ou, selon qui la veut, celui du rhum brûlant

Sous son habit foncé, la neige frémissante

Octroie à nos papilles sa tendre volupté

Légère et vaporeuse, elle nous fait rêver

A de tendres contrées aux passions grandissantes

Cette dame est en fait un dessert délicieux

Que j’aime préparer et aussi partager;

J’y mets mon savoir faire afin de lui donner

Le goût fin d’un nectar venu du fond des cieux.

Brabantia ** (2007)

[cfcreative]

Thoughts that struck me today:

Who the BG3 Companions favorite Sailor Scouts would be.

Lae’zel: Luna. Sure, you can tell her that Luna is not a scout, but Lae’zel will point out that Luna’s easily the best strategist, has the most knowledge of their (initial) situation, and trains all of the other incompetents around her. It’s probably best not to argue with her on this point.

Shadowheart: Sailor Saturn. The started-semi-evil scout who needs a reboot to get away from the evil that raised her, AND she’s devoted to purple. Easy choice.

Astarion: Sailor Mars. She’s fashionable and not about to take shit from anyone—even their so-called leader. Also, they both have a bit of a habit of putting on airs.

Wyll: Sailor Venus. They both had superhero careers before hooking up with their current crew. Wyll loves big romantic gestures, and Venus is the Guardian of Love.

Gale: Tuxedo Mask. Originally, I was going to say Mercury because they’re both complete nerds (affectionate). But then it struck me how many times Mamoru tries to do what he thinks is The Right Thing and it blows up in his face. Like a giant hungry orb in his chest.

Karlach: Sailor Jupiter. Taller than her other friends? Expelled from her old school because people thought she was a scary bully? Been on her own forever after losing her parents? Loves flowers and is actually an enormous softie? I rest my case, your honor.

Halsin: Sailor Mercury. I think he would appreciate her connection with water, her steady devotion to trying to become a doctor, and her general quiet and kind nature.

Jaheira: Sailor Pluto. Stuck being the person with all the responsibility for such a long time, but still somewhat apart from those she wishes to protect. Both the Mom That Shows Up for the weird little used-to-be-evil kid.

Minsc: “They fight for love and justice? Minsc and Boo will readily call ANY of them friends!”

Bonus Round:

Dame Aylin: Sailor Moon. Provided it’s later in the story, because she can’t stand Usagi’s whining to start. Basically, Aylin likes shouting along with IN THE NAME OF THE MOON, I WILL PUNISH YOU!

Isobel: Sailor Chibi-Moon. That stubborn streak reminds her of a certain someone…🌙🪽

[i0veless]

GUITAR STRING HEART 1 :: KYLIAN MBAPPE

𖥻 SUMMARY ー [ sometimes they're an unexpected chapter in the story ] 𖥻 PAIRING ー [ kylian mbappe x fem! guitarist/singer! reader ] 𖥻 GENRE ー [ social media au, band au, ex's to ???, angst, fluff ] 𖥻 WORD COUNT ー [ 4.7k ] 𖥻 WARNINGS ー [ drinking, smoking, mention of nudity, breakups, and insecurities - let me know if theirs anything else ] 𖥻 AUTHORS NOTE ー [ first post, and it's an idea I have had for a while - their is going to be a part 2 to this and Idk when I will write it but enjoy - ALSO their may be several mistake but plz ignore it 2 am and i can see straight ]

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Nothing felt better than this, the rush of Adrenaline and Dopamine kicking in, making everything fuzzy in the best way possible. Y/N lived for that rush, and right now was no different as she played her heart out on stage with her hands skilfully plucking the strings of her baby blue guitar, playing in harmony with her bandmates to the thunderous applause of the crowd. The song finally drew to a close, and the cheers became deafening. The musician felt at home looking out into the sea of faces full of twinkling phone lights, signs, and posters.

As the cheers died down slightly, Axel yelled into the mic, "Thank you, Rome and good night." followed by more applause from the crowd, and the stage lights cut off. The show was over, and dame where they beat, sluggishly making their way backstage. The group placed their instruments down before they crashed to the floor. "One more show left to go", Sabrina laughed. "Ugh, I'm gonna miss this", Onyx muttered in exhaustion. "Are you, though" Sabrina questioned, knowing her friend's lazy tendencies. "Hate to say it, but I agree with nyx on this one. I could do this forever," Y/n finally chimed in as she picked herself off the floor, grabbed four water bottles, and shared them with the group. "Now hurry up, you dumb fucks. I need a shower."

Paparazzi were annoying fans, and average fans weren't. That was set in stone, but the line separating the two was slim. So when people were shoving cameras in their faces and screaming at them to 'look here.' it got very annoying very quickly. The security team surrounded them like a herd of intimidating sheep, escorting them from the venue to their ride to the hotel.

With a deep sigh, Y/N finally shut the door to her hotel room, bolted it, and quickly stripped naked, leaving a pile of clothes in the bathroom. She bathed under the shower and let the hot water wash away all the day's dirt, grime and stress. Humming a light tune, she scrubbed her body clean with scented body gel and shampooed and conditioned her hair before rinsing. Now fresh and clean, she did her extensive skin care and posted a picture on Instagram with her, Sabrina, and Victoria from Maneskin, adding a couple of images to her story and making a quick tweet teasing the final concert of the tour in paris before turning off her phone and falling asleep. Safe to say, she was excited for what was to come, but nothing could prepare her for the storm coming her way, a storm called Kylian Mbappe.

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yourinstagram night in rome as a couple🍷

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maneskin 🫡🫡🫡 ⤷ yourinstagram 😘😘😘 ⤷ user stan maneskin and blood valentine for clear skin ⤷ user future collab?

axeman why was I not invited ⤷ sab.rina do you have a vigina ⤷ axeman no... ⤷ sab.rina then their is your answer ⤷ yourinstagram pizza? ⤷ axeman yes, please ⤷ user miss brina woke up and chose violence ⤷ sab.rina always 💅🏼

user bloody valentines friendship >>>> the world ⤷ user facts

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sab.rina

liked by ykaaar ethanskin and 9,643,124 others ➻ tagged yourinstagram vicdeangelis 

sab.rina my girls 

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vicdeangelissee you soon ⤷ user collab? ⤷ ykaaar 👀 ⤷ vicdeangelis 👀 ⤷ ethanskin 👀 ⤷ thomasraggi__ 👀

yourinstagram the pretty best friends 🥰 ⤷ vicdeangelis 😘

onyxisastone still trying to steal our band mates I see victoria ⤷ vicdeangelis I mean...

user maneksin and bloody valentine single-handedly saved this year ⤷ user facts  

user step on me

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yourinstagram . 23hr ago

seen by k.mbappe harrystyles and 2,450,674 others

onyxisastone

seen by bellahadid charlidamilio 6,103,546 others

axeman

liked by thegossip celebritytheories and 11,213,194 others ➻ tagged yourinstagram sab.rina onyxisarock

axeman fight or flight

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Kylian knew it was wrong, but that had never stopped him before. He had lost all sense of morality the moment he lost her, as he lay awake another sleepless night with the bed feeling too big and empty, yearning for the feeling of another body filling that void. But it couldn't be just anyone, and he figured that out the hard way after many nights of drinking and sleeping around still did little to ease or mend his broken heart.

Letting out a deep sigh, the PSG player gave up on trying to sleep and decided to turn on the tv as he lay perfectly still in bed and flicked through the channels. Lady and the tramp was one of Y/N's favourites because she was a hopeless romantic. As the famous spaghetti scene played with romantic music in tow, the number ten couldn't help but feel heavy-hearted and annoyed.

Everything reminded him of her, but he didn't have the right to complain about feeling heartbroken. He was the one who left the stunning musician. So in some sick sense of karma, he did deserve it. Maybe this was how the universe would exact revenge on him on behalf of his former lover. Gift him success, money, fame - and every luxury life had to offer but leave a hole in the shape of the love he once had.

He constantly felt the overwhelming urge to see her face, like an itch in his brain that he could not scratch, to see what he had missed, to revel in envy and live vicariously through her social media posts and dream of a world where they were still together. He held a sick sense of pride that no one would know her as intimately as he did - but what if things had changed? What if someone else did? What if she had moved on? And let the moments the two of them shared slowly deteriorate from her library of memories to make room for new ones without him?

The thought made his blood boil, he knew he had no right to be angry, but he couldn't help it. How could he remain calm? When a usurper had taken his place in Y/N's heart, he understood that it was no longer his place to hold - but oh, how he wished it was. How he wished he could wake up with someone to hold him tight in the winter mornings, kiss him until minor bruises formed, love him through the highs and lows and excepted him with all his flaws. But he didn't just want someone. He wanted Y/N L/N, but unfortunately, not all dreams came true.

So Kylian did the next best thing; he stalked her. Clicking on the profile, he scrolled through the array of photos, her happy face, in different countries, with her friends, family but not him - never him. That was why he didn't want their relationship to be secret anymore. He was tired of being hidden. Because in the back of his mind, he thought Y/N was ashamed to be seen with him, obviously that was the furthest thing from the truth.

But he couldn't help it, so in an attempt to find some comfort, he suggested making the relationship public multiple times. Constant declining and excuses did nothing but further his insecurities to the point that he started to doubt their relationship. This only lead to more fights and, finally, the eventual end of the relationship, with him being the one to call it off.

As he stared at the same face, he shed a river's worth of tears with. He felt nothing but regret and guilt as he saw the musician's Instagram story, a picture from her band's concert in Rome. 'I don't want to love you anymore' in a bold red, scrawled over the digital screen in the background. Part of him wanted to deny any chance that this may be directed towards him, but another part of him clung to the idea that the musician was still in love with him like a wet shirt to skin.

So without thinking, he posted on his story replying to her first post indirectly, not even concerned if people would put two and two together. An hour later, Kylian began watching another movie that reminded him of her. Tim Burton's corpse bride, as the film played in the background, Mbappe opened Twitter and switched accounts from his offical to his secret. His timeline was a bloody valentines shrine of achievements and, more notably, Y/N's achievements, from videos of her and her bandmates at the Grammys and red carpets to their most recent concert in Rome. He watched them all, liking, favouriting and rooting for them from afar.

One particular video caught his eye, clicking play. Shouts and music met his ears as the video of the group performing the song 'second chance romance.' played with everyone in the crowd screaming, dancing and singing along. All he could do was focus on the lyrics. 'second chance romance doesn't leave us enough time for one last dance, with not enough time. You'll leave me begging you, please don't go, but even if you leave, maybe in a couple of years, I'll let you back into my heart, my dear.'

The song was for him. It had to be. Once again, acting on impulse, he posted the picture of the Tim burton movie and song title to his story before shutting off his phone. Mbappe closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as he clung to his last shred of hope that he could still have her back. He knew that Y/N's final concert was in Paris, and part of him felt happy that she was coming home. Even if it wasn't to him, maybe he would watch. He eventually fell asleep, unaware of the problems he had caused with those posts. But perhaps it was for the best?

k.mbappe . 22hr ago

seen by yourinstagram achrafhakimi and 1,103,546 others

celebritytheories

liked by 994,543 others

celebritytheories Football fans and blood hearts clash as the recent stories made by mbappe leave fans wondering if there was some relationship between him and bloody valentines guitarist and female vocalist y/n l/n. The rumours sparked after kylian posted a harmless photo of him watching lady and the tramp (one of y/n's favourite movies of all time) with a cryptic message seemingly replying to the y/n's story about her band's concert in rome, italy. And if that wasn't enough to cause controversy, the psg star then made a follow-up post on his story with the caption 'second chance romance.' which is a bloody valentine song written by y/n herself. As it recounts a relationship with an old flame and how she would be willing to rekindle their love, the reference was paired alongside another of her all-time favourite movies, the corpse bride. People's opinions are split, with some claiming that fans are just reaching. Others argue that the references were too cohesive to be coincidence and that the singer did spend four months in paris last year. With no more information and neither party addressing the rumours, there is nothing but speculation. With bloody Valentine, the final stop on their world tour is in Paris, and people are wondering if PSG's number star will be among the crowd.

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user it's offical everyone has fucking lost it

user am I the only one who thinks that they would make a cute couple? liked by celebritytheories

user naurrr y/n is for the gayyys ⤷ user she's bi

user nahhh I smell cap

user but why does this actually make sense ⤷ user I know right?!?!?! ⤷ user so ship? ⤷ user yeah def ⤷ user brb gonna go write some fanfiction for them ⤷ user go touch some fucking grass ⤷ user no thank you 🥰

user stay away from my future wife you mutant turtle 🤺🤺🤺

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thegossip

liked by bloodyvalentine maneskin and 1,832,483 others

thegossip band bloody valentine has finally landed in pairs for their last concert on their bloody revenge world tour, with rumours circulating that the Italian band maneskin will also be expected to make an appearance, but nothing has been confirmed.

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thebloodyvalentine 👀 ⤷ sab.rina 👀 ⤷ axeman 👀 ⤷ yourinstagram 👀 ⤷ maneskin 👀 ⤷ onyxisastone 🫦 ⤷ user 🤣🤣🤣

user I would sell my soul to see them live

user am I the only one who is wondering if the y/n and kylian rumours are true? ⤷ user same ⤷ user y/n is to good for kylian ⤷ user facts

user google how to become the floor

user god they could step on me and I would say thank you 🥵 ⤷ user same ⤷ user ya'll need to ask for forgiveness from god ⤷ user rich coming from someone who follows the hub

user I want vic from maneksin and y/n bloody valentine to peg me

user 🔥🔥🔥

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Love was a complicated emotion, but the dread that she was experiencing was the furthest thing from it. Y/N had been worried about everything but the paparazzi, from the jet to the car to the hotel. She leaned against the hotel room's balcony with a cigarette and a flute of champagne in hand. She felt the sicking sense of nostalgia creep down her spine as she watched the twinkling lights of the Eiffel tower.

The cold wind gently knocked against her frigid skin, reminding her that at the same time last year, she was in the warm embrace of the supposed man of her dreams - Kylian Mbappe. But it wasn't meant to be. Even if she wished it was, it wouldn't change the truth. They were over and had been over for nearly a year, so why he decided to start writing cryptic messages and references directed at her was a surprise. Her head had convinced her that he was bored, and her heart said that he still loved her, but whatever the PSG player was doing was not appreciated.

The squeak of the balcony door stopped her rabbit hole of reminiscing as her best friend and fellow bandmate Sabrina joined her on the balcony. "Feels nice to be back, doesn't it?" the bassist asked. All Y/N could respond with was a whispered 'yeah' as she tried to convince herself and her friend that she was unbothered. "Angel, you know you are great at many things, but lying is not one of them."

With a deep sigh of frustration, the guitarist downed the rest of her champagne before placing the glass on the floor. Taking another long drag of her cigarette, leaned her back against the railing. "It's just…memories." She trailed off slightly, looking at her friend with a heavy sadness in her eyes. "Your thinking about the posts", Sabrina gently interrogated as she leaned against the rails and began to smoke. "It's hard not to when it's splashed all over gossip sites", the guitarist softly answered as she took one final drag of her cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray.

"You know, maybe it's well-aligned coincidences", Sabrina half-heartedly joked to make her friend smile - which she did. But only for a brief moment, as the gloom of memories crept over her once more. "You and I both know those posts were anything but coincidence, Brina," Y/N spoke with a sad smile. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're probably not going to see him, " her friend uttered, trying to comfort her sad companion.

"Oddly enough, that makes me feel slightly worse that better." as tears start to well in her eyes, Y/N lights a fresh cigarette - Kylian hated when she smoked, which was the exact reason she did it often. "You still in love with him" the dreaded question slipped through her friend's lips, and the two stood in a moment's worth of silence. "I don't think I ever stopped. I only learned how to act like I didn't."

"to be honest, I always thought that you two would get married", Sabrina sighed as she thought about all the times she saw her friend and the football star looking hopelessly in love during their relationship. But no love story was perfect, and Y/N and Kylian's was no different. "yeah, me too," Y/N whispered with unshed tears. Sabrina knew why they ended, as Kylian's constant need to make their relationship public tore them apart.

And the 18-year-old Y/N was hesitant, and she didn't want unnecessary attention from the media, who already had an affinity for making baseless dating accusations against her. But Sabrina could understand why Kylian didn't want to keep their relationship secret - he wanted to show the world how much he loved his girl. But at the same time, Y/N had a different idea for their relationship, wanting to keep it private and avoid people making unnecessary comments towards both of them. She was trying to protect him, but did he need protection in the first place?

After a few more moments of peaceful silence, the two girls agreed to go back inside as the cold worsened. Stepping back into the warm hotel room, their other two bandmates lay on the sofa with a drink in hand and not a care in the world. Looking up from his phone Onyx smiled at the pair "nice of you to rejoin the party." the drummer laughed as he handed the two a beer bottle each as they seated themselves in the empty loveseat.

"Good to know you're still not completely shit-faced", Y/N snickered, taking a sip of her beer, "Don't worry, the night is still young," the man said in a fit of laughter. "Give it ten minutes, and he'll be out like a light", Axel finally chimed in. The other guitarist and male vocalist chuckled at the state of his bandmate. "Nah, I give it five", Sabrina countered. "You people have no faith in me", the intoxicated drummer whined in protest. The group laughed in innocent bliss, revelling in each other's company, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

Looking in the direction of the nock, Axel sighed, "alright, fess up. Who ordered takeout." looking towards his friends, who all denied doing such a thing - but that didn't convince him. Pushing himself up from the sofa and walking towards the door, making sure to grab his wallet in the process, he grumbled incoherently while the other three just looked at each other confused. Opening the door, Axel was met with the face of their manager, not a delivery boy. "False alarm, it's just Johnny ", he yelled to the others, who groaned at the thought of no food.

Letting the older man into the room, they offered him a beer, which he accepted graciously before taking a seat on an empty stool. "So your probably wondering what I'm doing here, so I'll get straight to it. As you know, tomorrow is the day before your last concert on tour, and I just got a call from the higher-ups. They want you to attend the PSG vs Man City match tomorrow and get the most publicity out of these stupid rumours about Y/N and Mbappe." Johnny spoke as the group listened intently to their manager, oblivious to the fact that these rumours were true, which made him look stupid, but they chose not to say anything. Well, this was an exciting turn of events.

yourinstagram . 12hr ago

seen by gigihadid neymarjr and 1,341,344 others

sab.rina . 6hr ago

seen by k.mbappe leomessi and 1,810,124 others

Y/N had been uneasy since the morning as she sat in the car on her way to the game. She was questioning her life choices as she tried to find ways to escape this uncomfortable situation, but her back was against the wall. It took all her strength not to reach from her seat behind the driver and grab the wheel to force him to turn the car around. Part of her hated Johnny for this, but the other part couldn't be mad at him for something he didn't know or could control.

Finally, stopping in front of Parc Des Princes Paris. Home to PSG and her ex-boyfriend Y/N felt like she was dying. Stepping out of the car, she looked up at the enormous stadium as she felt a hand intertwined with hers. Turning slightly, she met Sabrina's gaze giving her a reassuring smile to her friend that she was 'fine'. The group walked in like a scene out of an action movie as security escorted them to their seats in the VIP lounge.

As fans flooded into the stadiums as chants and singing began - football fans were a different breed of human. A little while later, the pre-kick of formalities had started. Both teams make their way onto the field, standing in line with the children in front of them. As the camera panned across all of the player's faces, Y/N's heartbeat quickened slightly at the sight of the PSG number seven. Her heart screams at his effortlessly attractive disposition, even if her head screams to ignore him. But that had been challenging to do when every fibre of her being was still calling out to him.

Y/N was choosing to swat away the intrusive thoughts and enjoy the game, as that was the point of being there, even if it was mixed up in a publicity bit. As the game began, the guitarist was on the edge of her seat as the two teams went head to head. One of the most intriguing clashes amid the match was between Mbappe and Halland, as the two promising talents battled it out in what seemed to be far bigger than just a football match - it was personal. There was a purpose behind every tackle and interception, not just to win but to make a point to the other.

By the end of the first half, it was 1-1, with both teams equally matched in skill, speed, and defence, meaning there were very few windows to score. As much as she didn't want to come, Y/N was genuinely surprised at how much she was enjoying herself. If it weren't for the fact that everyone knew they were here (courtesy of the cameras showing their reactions to the goals on the large screen) and that her ex-boyfriend was in the same vicinity as her, she would have classed this as a near-perfect experience.

"They're good, aren't they?" Axel spoke in awe as he took a sip of his coke, "yeah, I mean did you see Halland score that goal!" Onyx said with elevated enthusiasm - he was a man city stan. "technically, aren't we meant to be supporting PSG as they were the ones who invited us?" Sabrina questioned, making an excellent point. Why would PSG invite them when one of their star players was making headlines for all the wrong reasons with a member of the band they asked to watch? "Well, it's a free country, and I'm going to support Halland," Onyx said firmly with his support for the light blues.

"Suck his ass more like." Y/N chimed in, giving Brina a high five as the two laughed at their friend's obsession with Earling Halland. As the group talked about the game and enjoyed their VIP benefit food, the second half started, and it did not disappoint. Mbappe and Messi followed Neymar and scored a goal each, but the field was quickly made even by Phil Foden and Jack Grealish. The game ended 3-3, much to each side's disappointment, but they all played their best and put on a fantastic show of skill.

Standing up from their seats, the group cheered along with the rest of the audience of fans before they began to grab their things and get ready to leave, like everyone else. But a text message from Johnny altered their plans drastically, "Oh shit", Onyx cursed, looking at his friends. "Have you guys read what johnny boys said on the group chat" Taking the silence as a 'no', he continued, "apparently, were going to be taken by security to meet the PSG team"

If Y/N wasn't freaking out before, she sure was now. Sensing her distress, her friends jumped in to comfort her. "Hey baby, listen, we don't have to if you don't want to", Axel said, trying to comfort his best friend as she looked like she was on the verge of tears at the thought of being in the same room as her ex. "No, no, we have to. I don't want management to know somethings up." the girl sighed as she tried to compose herself as she began to walk down to the reception.

They were taken back into the restricted area, Y/N was now in fight or flight mode, and in a last-ditch attempt, she asked where the bathroom was. Walking towards the restroom, she could feel her bandmates concerned gazes as the guitarist and singer walked into the bathroom. Splashing cold water over her face, looking at her reflection in the mirror, she felt her solid resolve deteriorating with every passing second.

"You look like you have been through it" not even bothering to turn around, she looked through the mirror and saw Earling Halland leaning against one of the stalls near the door. "You could say that." turning around to face him, giving him a small smile. "Hope it wasn't because of the outcome of the match." he joked lightly, seeing the girl's tense demeanour and deciding that she needed a laugh.

"No, it was anything but that. It's not every day you get to see Earling the robot Halland play live." the Norwegian star met her gaze with a stunned expression riddled across his face. "You know who I am?" he asked in shock, and all Y/N could do was laugh. "Of course, I know who you are. It's difficult not to when my bandmate constantly professes his undying love for you." Erling flushed pink as he muttered a small 'wow', "Yeah, don't underestimate your reputation. Onyx asked to become you for Christmas."

As the two laughed at the ridiculous request, "well, looks like he's not the only one with an impossible Christmas gift since all of your concert tickets are sold out, " the blond confessed, which shocked the singer. "You listen to our music," Y/N asked, pointing from him to herself when he nodded without hesitation. "Not just me. The whole man-city squad loves your music, and we were planning to see you live in London, but the tickets sold out so fast."

"Okay, I see a way we can solve both our problems. You get me one of your signed jerseys I will get you and the rest of your squad tickets to tomorrow's concert" Boy, did that make him happy he asked if she was being serious, and when she responded with a firm yes, she was flung into a hug. "Okay, okay, I can get you that jersey and do you one better I can get the whole squad to sign it." the blond Norwegian said, breaking away from the embrace.

"Wait, you would do that?" Y/N asked in surprise that the player was willing to do so much for someone he had just met, and another nod had her smiling like an idiot. "You, my friend, have just earned you and the rest of your team tickets to tomorrow's concert and an invite to the after-party." the two talked through the details, exchanging numbers and bidding each other goodbye. Safe to say that she felt much happier as she walked towards her dreaded destination. Wonder how long that's going to last.

onyxisarock . 4hr ago

seen by kimkardiashianwest ksi and 1,126,124 others

thegossip

liked by 11,832,483 others

thegossip Bloody valentine spotted at the recent psg vs man city game

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[viviennevermillion]

ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴅᴀʏ...

❝ someday these dreams will all be real, still then we'll wish upon the moon. change will come, one day... some day soon. ❞ — the hunchback of notre dame

notes: for @briarvalleyarchives 'anthems of old' event. set during halloween.

contains: malleus x gn!reader, reverse hurt/comfort, ambiguous relationship

warnings: none

It was rare to see the young prince of Briar Valley on his own during an occasion that he had been invited to. The wind was strong today, blowing past the rafters of Ramshackle Dorm like the storm in Malleus's heart, leaving a creaking sound behind that made him once more wonder for how long the building had been here and muse about the souls that wandered through its halls, finding comfort in the walls that sheltered them and dreaming of something out there that they had yet to find. Even before the mysterious prefect from another world moved in here, this house had been somebody's home, albeit it may be hard to imagine for the children of man who had only just been brought into this life, compared to how long Malleus's people had roamed this world. Truly, if one were to look at it from their perspective, it was easy to see only an abandoned building, threatened to fall apart during the next rainstorm. But if there was one thing that Malleus had learnt to be privy to both fae folk and mankind, was that the things they left behind in this world; the crafts and projects one had poured their heart into, may persist long after one is gone, even against all odds, to see another day in a brighter future.

Therefore, Malleus mused, turning the invitation letter to the Halloween committee meeting in his hands absentmindedly, we must cherish them. Anger and disappointment surged through him once more as he remembered the trespassers from the previous day, intruding upon these grounds with no concern to the students who lived in this dorm. The dragon fae let out a sigh, looking down onto the vibrantly decorated front lawn. He had picked Ramshackle Dorm as the location for Diasomnia's Halloween venue. Did he bring this upon Yuu and Grim?

Maybe partially. Still, he never could have imagined the audacity of those "Magicam Monsters". Even Lilia seemed surprised, and he had traveled countless of lands and met an abundance of people. Maybe this was just one of those things that represented the distance between the children of men and the dark fae, one he wasn't sure would ever truly be bridged. Malleus's attendance of Night Raven College represented so much more than just the crown prince's education. It was a first step of connecting with the human world that was so foreign to him as a member of the royal family; of reaching out and seeking understanding after years of war and conflict had wreaked the lands and seemingly eternal silence had followed. Lilia had told him that maybe one day, fae and humans would walk hand in hand again. An endeavor that, for now at least, seemed to Malleus like the task of millennia. Was he going to be the one to achieve this? Malleus remained in doubt.

He had been looking forward to these festivities. A Halloween celebration that welcomed everyone from all over the world; getting to know the traditions and customs of other lands when it came to this important festival. It was a privilege for Malleus, a once-in-a-lifetime experience that was not meant to last or to be repeated. He had welcomed the visitors with excitement and kindness, looking forward to sharing this holiday with them and letting them enjoy the results of everyone's hard work. And yet...

Malleus remembered how the humans had treated him once he stepped in to assist Sebek and Silver with the trespassers. He didn't know whether this 'Draconia Challenge' had stemmed from bravery.... or stupidity. Either way, it felt like sheer disrespect to his person. There was guilt in his heart when he looked at the invitation. It was such a rare and special occasion to be invited like this by the other students, yet in his heart he knew he had to take a break from the whole ordeal, lest his impulsivity get the better of him. He wouldn't want to cause trouble for his fellow students.

"The famous wizard, Malleus Draconia, whom everyone is afraid of. If I take a picture of myself touching something like that, I will feel like I completed a legendary achievement."

Was this truly how people looked at him? Were most simply too terrified to voice it? Or was he, to them, like a curiosity to be gawked at? Once Malleus's unbridled rage had subsided, the comments left a bitter taste in his mouth, making him second-guess the way people perceived him. He'd be foolish to believe that his incredible magic power and his status as the prince of an isolated fae nation wouldn't alienate him from the human youths, but was it this bad?

"Hey, look, it's an old-fashioned bicycle"

He remembered the foolish man who had grabbed his horns and caused his temper to spiral out of control, almost causing an interspecies conflict then and there. Malleus remembered how Silver had tried to keep the humans away from him for their own safety. Malleus felt disrespected and wronged because of the Magicam Monsters. He felt frustrated because he saw that his attendants didn't trust him to handle the situation on his own... and ashamed, because they were right. In that moment he had felt the farthest from that dream of a united world that Lilia had spoken of. Malleus was the one who would represent his people in the future; the peace between humans and fae would partially rest on his shoulders, more so than it did already. And yet... he had almost compromised it yet again. Thunder echoed across the island once more as he thought about that moment.

"Hey, how are you holding up?", a voice disrupted his thoughts. The thunder seized when Malleus looked up at you, trying to figure out what to do with your legs and arms to make sure you'd be able to sit down next to him without risking to fall off the roof. "I just need some time to cool off", he spoke calmly, not wanting to let you see the full extent of his distress, "I hope I didn't frighten you." You shook your head.

"I won 5000 madol from the school newspaper for accurately predicting the weather."

At least something, Malleus thought, slightly amused at your statement.

"If you'd rather be alone right now, do not hesitate to tell me", you reached into your backpack to pull out a small bag of candy, "I still thought that no one should have to spend Halloween alone. I got these at Sam's shop, would you like to share? We could watch a Halloween movie too. They don't expect me at the stamp rally today, so if you want to, we could spend some time."

Malleus gave you a soft smile. "I would like that", he reached into the bag of candy that you held out to him, pulling out a pumpkin-shaped treat, "it would probably help to get my mind off things. And I've never actually seen a movie before."

"What's going through your head right now?", you asked out of curiosity, wrapping your arms around your knees and looking at Malleus's face in anticipation of his answer. "I was simply wondering whether fae and humans could ever see eye to eye and come to an understanding. If we could be neighbors and friends like Lilia wishes." "Well, one thing is for sure, if we watch all parts of Pumpkin Knight, you'll already convince one of them", you chuckled, thinking back to Idia's rant about his favorite Halloween movie.

Malleus chuckled too, before returning to his thoughts from before, looking up at the sky. "Am I truly that terrifying to people?", he mumbled quietly. Your heart broke seeing him like this. You missed that confident smirk on his face whenever he would try to tease you; although you knew that this mood was a long time coming, especially with the events that had transpired during the past few days.

"Man sees in the world what he carries in his heart", you mused, leaning back and following the prince's gaze, "are the things we fear truly objectively dangerous and scary, or isn't what we really fear more often than not our own limitations... our weaknesses and shortcomings... our lack of ability to adapt?" Malleus thought about your words, having to admit that there was some truth to it. "I don't think you're scary. I think you represent uncertainty to a lot of people and they don't know how to approach that", you theorized, "was it not similar for you when you left Briar Valley?"

Malleus thought back to the day that he received his admittance letter to Night Raven College. Indeed, leaving his homeland and coming to this primarily human-populated community took courage and it did make him unsure. Not exactly terrified, but unsure without a doubt. He mused that a group of humans just showing up in Briar Valley one day would cause quite the commotion as well. He remembered Lilia telling him about how the Zigvolt's neighbors reacted when word spread that their eldest daughter was going to marry a child of man. Memories of the war and the depression and grief that followed it like a shadow were brought up in light of such a joyous occasion as an engagement.

Especially to such a long-lived race as the fae, the distant past was like a deep scar struggling to heal and each time the lines between those two different worlds that Malleus had now experienced first-hand were blurred, it was like the wound opened and bled a little once more. He felt that internalized disdain and suspicion towards the human race everytime there was a royal gathering and everytime someone brought up his parents. He, too, hadn't been untouched by it growing up. Images flashed his mind of the rainy days, the loneliest of the year, where he had snuck out of the castle to visit his parents' grave. To get a moment alone with them; without a horde of guards or his grandmother on his heels.

Malleus didn't have many memories of his early childhood but he knew that there had been many moments where he had wondered why the children of men had taken his parents from him. How unfair it was, that he had to grow up alone like this. What was so important about this conflict that they had to die? That families were torn apart and homes destroyed?

Malleus, after centuries mostly spent within the walls of his castle, was, albeit cautious, excited to go to this school. But he could also sense his grandmother's fear when she had sent him off to these foreign lands that they remained so out of touch with that even they, as members of the royal family, were unfamiliar with the recent history of many nations across the world. Even knowing how strong he was and that he was accompanied by such reliable guards never eased her concerns. Malleus couldn't blame her, either.

"I suppose many of my kin feel the same about meeting children of men as the latter do about meeting a dragon fae like me", Malleus let out a sigh, "it is a pity how far apart we seem even living on the same campus because of those misunderstandings that persist from bygone times." You nodded. "To answer your question", Malleus continued, "I was not afraid of coming here but I was wary, too. It did take some courage."

You thought about his words for a moment, making note of his thoughtful expression and the way he seemed off in his own world, trying to make sense of the ideas in his mind and the feelings in his heart. "And...have your feelings changed?", you asked, absentmindedly brushing a strand of hair out of his face. Malleus looked up at you with a surprised expression on his face. "Pardon", you apologized when it dawned on you that you hadn't even noticed you did this. A smile grazed Malleus's features. "Heh. I do not mind."

He plopped another candy into his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his sharp fangs. He thought about the countless attempts at fearmongering he became witness to in Briar Valley when the topic of human civilization came up. How their society was described to him in comparison to his own perception of it. "I suppose it did", he answered carefully, still lost in thought, "there's a great divide between our people, and yet many of the things that we concern ourselves with are the same for the children of men. We may not be able to understand each other for a long time, but we care about our families and we're able to enjoy lively celebrations and gargoyles..."

You didn't have the heart to tell him in this moment that gargoyles were more of a... niche interest.

"That's a good way of looking at it", you smiled softly, giving Malleus's hand an encouraging squeeze, "and it's a start. This Halloween is a celebration that we all can enjoy, despite our differences. Don't let a few outliers dishearten you. Focus on the good things. Remember, there was a little boy who wanted to take a photo with you on the first day of Halloween week and excitedly showed it to his father. And on the last day, we'll have this big parade and share candy with everyone."

Malleus smiled at the thought of that. These moments weren't anything the tales about the children of man in Briar Valley made him think of. They were something new and special that he had to see with his own eyes to learn to cherish. And maybe one day it would be the same for the humans. Maybe someday he could show his world to them and they would find as much wonder in it as he did in theirs. He had to ask you to visit his homeland when you had time to do so; he'd make sure to show you around personally.

"Do you think I will one day see a world where humans and fae will understand each other?", the thought still seemed so far and unlikely to Malleus now. He was surprised by the confidence in your answer. "Definitely", you nodded, "you will live for thousands of years and this world changes faster with every passing day. And with it, the people who live on it grow too with the generations. When there's a moment where the rulers of other nations will dine at the same table with the court of Briar Valley and laugh together, I'm sure that you will be to see it."

Malleus chuckled. "That seems like millennia from now."

"It could be", you laughed, "sure feels like it sometimes." You listened to the sound of a tile falling from the roof of Ramshackle Dorm and shattering on the ground below. "I suppose the world is a little bit like this dorm." "How so?", Malleus asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's old, flawed... scarred and changed by tragedies from long ago. Sometimes things seem so bad that the next big storm feels like a disaster it can't come back from. But we still add things to it and repair what has been broken. Change is subtle, barely noticeable at times. But one day you'll wake up and notice that the roof has stopped leaking and the windows aren't cracked and birds aren't building any more nests in your bedroom."

Malleus laughed while simultaneously cringing a little at the state of this dorm, considering there were students living here.

"So the whole world is a little like an abandoned building", Malleus looked up and you sighed upon seeing the delight in his eyes. Undoubtedly he had slipped back into what you liked to call the "Malleus tunnel vision", a state of mind he entered when someone brought up ruins or gargoyles or dragons. "Not the conclusion I wanted you to come to", you chuckled, "but it's not abandoned. It won't be for as long as there are people looking to make it a better place."

Malleus watched the sun rise above the ocean. "I'll do my best to contribute", he promised quietly, closing his eyes and feeling the wind blow through his hair. "I know you will", you smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, enjoying the peaceful morning before the stamp rally would begin once more, "but that also means not making things worse if someone knocks down a pillar in the house. So tone it down a little with the lightning and the magic."

"I'm sorry for that", Malleus said, disappointed in himself for how he handled that situation yesterday. He leaned his head against yours. "Let's just enjoy this day together, take some time off from the whole fiasco and hope that the improvements in the future will outweigh the disasters", you suggested with a peaceful smile on your face. "That sounds nice", the dragon fae admitted, gently wrapping his tail around your waist.

Maybe a little faith wasn't misplaced here. Everyone in Twisted Wonderland had a habit of taking a step forward and two steps back, yet in the end, they were still moving forward steadily. Malleus reminded himself to not let his temper get the better of him; to not add upon the destruction and instead focus his efforts on nurturing his dorm and his country and to repair what had been broken, however long it may take. And who could know what the future would bring? Maybe that vision of Lilias, that had seemed like a fever dream to Malleus just 24 hours ago, was already in motion.

Change would come. One day... someday... soon.

[clhook]

Aussi hier une dame est venue avec une liste de livres longue comme le bras à me demander et dedans il y avait un livre de Louise Aubery et laissez-moi vous dire que moi vivant aucun livre de mybetterself ne franchira le seuil de ma médiathèque

[perduedansmatete]

à chaque fois que je viens avec mes plats asiatiques picard au collège tout le monde me dit que ça sent trop bon une fois y a un autre surveillant qui a carrément ressorti l’emballage de la poubelle pour voir ce que c’était mdr et là une dame est venue de la pièce d’à côté pour me dire que de là bas ça sentait trop bon vraiment je suis un spot publicitaire picard à moi toute seule et j’adore ça me fait trop rire

[talonabraxas]

Venus Portal 🌀 Talon Abraxas The Orphic Hymn to Venus

Chapter LIV. The Fumigation from Frankincense

HEAV'NLY, illustrious, laughter-loving queen, Sea-born, night-loving, of an awful mien; Crafty, from whom necessity first came, Producing, nightly, all-connecting dame: Tis thine the world with harmony to join, For all things spring from thee, O pow'r divine. The triple Fates are rul'd by thy decree, And all productions yield alike to thee: Whate'er the heav'ns, encircling all contain, Earth fruit-producing, and the stormy main, Thy sway confesses, and obeys thy nod, Awful attendant of the brumal God: Goddess of marriage, charming to the sight, Mother of Loves, whom banquetings delight; Source of persuasion, secret, fav'ring queen, Illustrious born, apparent and unseen: Spousal, lupercal, and to men inclin'd, Prolific, most-desir'd, life-giving., kind: Great sceptre-bearer of the Gods, 'tis thine, Mortals in necessary bands to join; And ev'ry tribe of savage monsters dire In magic chains to bind, thro' mad desire. Come, Cyprus-born, and to my pray'r incline, Whether exalted in the heav'ns you shine, Or pleas'd in Syria's temple to preside, Or o'er th' Egyptian plains thy car to guide, Fashion'd of gold; and near its sacred flood, Fertile and fam'd to fix thy blest abode; Or if rejoicing in the azure shores, Near where the sea with foaming billows roars, The circling choirs of mortals, thy delight, Or beauteous nymphs, with eyes cerulean bright, Pleas'd by the dusty banks renown'd of old, To drive thy rapid, two-yok'd car of gold; Or if in Cyprus with thy mother fair, Where married females praise thee ev'ry year, And beauteous virgins in the chorus join, Adonis pure to sing and thee divine; Come, all-attractive to my pray'r inclin'd, For thee, I call, with holy, reverent mind.