#dusk till drawn

[murderblunder]

get your comfort where you can

[lale-txt]

❉ confessing to you w/ Geto, Toji & Shiu

➸ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏: Gojo, Nanami & Higuruma

a/n: reader is gn! obviously i lied when i said that i won't write a part 2 for this, but here we are. the scenarios plagued my mind and i had to get them out. both Toji's and Geto's part turned out a little sad and angsty, but that's what you get with those tragic chars, i guess.

❦ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji doesn’t confess. Deep, deep down he fears that he might put a curse on you if he speaks what weighs on his heart. 

You gotta forgive him, he’s a burned child. 

He’s afraid that you’re gonna vanish once he says these words out loud; without a trace, making him wonder if you were merely a fever dream. But you’re here, next to him in the dark, the heat of your body seeping into his when you roll over in your sleep and cling to him. He has to keep you safe, it’s what his life revolves around.

Toji’s hands are surprisingly gentle when he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You wouldn’t think that the same hands were covered in blood only a few hours ago. Some days he wouldn’t stop scrubbing them until you wrapped yours around his, giving him that look that makes his heart flinch. There’s no fear in your eyes, only compassion and a calm adoration, enough to make the lump of unsaid words in his throat swell. Sometimes he wonders if he’s gonna suffocate on those one day; if you’ll be able to forgive him for loving you, for touching you with those bloodstained hands, for engraving himself into your being.

He hopes you know. You do, don’t you? You wouldn’t curl up besides him otherwise, tangled in sheets he’ll never stay too long because he fears his world will melt down to just the two of you. So he keeps his gun on the nightstand and one foot out of the door, but his eyes will always dart back to your sleeping figure. You mumble out his name in your sleep and Toji responds by pulling you closer to him, only for a moment, holding his breath when you stir awake for a heartbeat. 

Maybe he can love you in between.

In those split seconds when you’re not asleep but not awake either; neither dreaming nor conscious. Not in this life, not in the next one. But in another life, when the stars have aligned and lead you back into his arms. Maybe he can hold you without worrying about staining your soul, your heart; maybe then he can kiss you with the absence of fear. Until then he’ll bite his tongue till he draws blood, choking on the words he chose not to say.

You will forgive him, won’t you? 

❦ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

In the dark and hazy mind of Geto, you’re the golden light that always guides him back to life. Even though fears he’ll dim you once he encases you, he can’t stay away from you for too long, your warmth way too addicting to him. You never push him away, instead you open your arms to embrace him. It’s as if you’re blinded by your own light, choosing not to see the sins he had committed because it would mean you’d have to stop loving him, and that would mean your whole world would simply fall apart; it’d mean Geto would fall apart.

Geto never asks for much. He did once and maybe that’s the heaviest burden he has to carry; that night when he showed up at your doorstep, asking you to leave everything behind and come with him. It was selfish, he knows that much. But how could you have denied him anything, when both his voice and heart were close to breaking, when he mumbled your name like an apology, his hands trembling till the moment you wrapped yours around them?

It’s too late now, and saying those words out loud now would feel like a binding vow, destroying you in the end. He can’t do that to you. Not to the person who saw the core of his soul and still chose to stay by his side, over all these years. Not budging, not complaining.

An unconditional love with eyes closed. A black hole where his heart is supposed to be, from dusk but never to dawn; while you’re burning brighter than a thousand suns. Maybe he has always been in your orbit, inevitably drawn to you.

When Geto trails kisses from your fingertips to your wrists, he can’t help but wonder when the day will come when he’ll slip through these fingers and plunge into darkness. He imagines your desperate cries and the scratch marks on his skin when you attempt to pull him back, back to the light, back to you. One day, it will be too late, he’s sure of that. His end won’t be a kind one. 

All he can hope for is your forgiveness when he places his bleeding heart in your open palms, and that you’ll swallow him whole like he did with the burden of never being able to openly telling you how deeply, madly he loved you.

❦ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔

Whenever he pulls up in the driveway, Shiu can’t help but wonder if you’re gonna be there, waiting for him at his doorstep with that mischievous grin of yours. You’re just a neighbor who he occasionally shares a cigarette with, he keeps telling himself, knowing it’s a full blown lie at this point. 

You’re tugging at his heart strings, night for night. Sometimes the thought of you just lying a few meters away from him, on the other side of a wall, drives him insane. You should be here, in his bed, in his arms. His sheets should smell like you in the morning, not like this creeping loneliness. Yet he never invites you inside and you never dare him to, like a stray cat tiptoeing at the edge of an open door, hoping for sweet treats and head scratches. It’s a game you’re both playing.

“My sweet,” he mumbles in that raspy voice you’ve learned to love so much when he spots you sitting at your familiar spot. Without hesitation he takes off his suit jacket and puts it around your shoulders. He never asks how long you’ve been sitting and waiting there for him, but he can easily tell from your cold fingertips when you hand him the lighter. Just a neighbor.

Inviting you in would mean something more than just opening the door. Within his profession, you don’t do love. There’s simply no room for it. Affection is exchanged through bundled yen notes and comes with fake laughter and lots of regret and headache in the morning. It’s just how things go. It’s the life Shiu chose for himself.

So why did his heart yearn so much for you? He should break this up before it even gets started. But he cannot, not when you inch closer while you talk, until your knees and your shoulders are touching, and the smoke from your shared cigarette is blown from lips to lips, as if you’re both testing just how close you can get before the resilience crumbles.

Maybe a kiss won’t hurt. Shiu knows that the lies he tells himself are piling up at this point. Of course it will hurt. A simple kiss won’t satisfy him, he’ll always find himself craving for more of you. A kiss first, then waking up by your side while you’re wearing his shirt that hugs your figure so nicely and next thing he’ll catch himself staring at the displays of the jewelry store, thinking which ring he should get you.

No, he can’t do that. He shouldn’t. And yet still, he cups your face so gently, lifting your chin up and catching your gaze. So let it hurt, he thinks to himself, before leaning in to kiss you, softly and deeply.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Coming Home

i. Shasta heard a story once—he could not remember where—in which two brothers lived on an island covered in gray soot. Everything on the island was colorless except the brothers, and every day they looked at each other to remind themselves what color looked like. Shasta didn’t remember how the story ended.

ii. “Home” was not a thing for which he had context. Neither was “Brother.” “Father” meant only cruelty and neglect. And yet, Shasta was home now. His brother pulled him into mischief by his elbow and his father asked after his studies at supper. It reminded him, now, of that story from long ago. He was trying to see the world in color, having known only gray soot all his life.

iii. Had he ever seen a violet like the alpine glow off the mountains at dusk?

iv. Shasta went out walking sometimes, trying to understand it. The grass withered and turned brown, and the frost came swiftly behind. It crunched underfoot the way sand did not.

iv. “Father,” Shasta would say, “What color do you say the ice is?” “What color do you think it is, my son,” the king would reply.

v. The ice was many colors. White snow on the ground. Blue where frozen lakes reflected the sky. Faintly green where it hung in icicles from his window. Gold when sunlight passed through it.

vi. Long ago, Shasta had been born the Crown Prince Cor. He’d been born to all of this, to home and father and brother, even if he’d never known of it till now. These were Cor’s tall green trees. These were his violet mountains. This was his family, and his colorless wind that nipped the nose whenever he stepped outside.

vii. And yet sometimes, even years on, Shasta would wake expecting to hear the sea.

viii. He asked Aravis once if she knew the story of the two brothers on the island. She nodded, “Of course. It is from a literary epic in which a bride cleverly tells her husband a story each night in order to postpone her own murder. But how,” here she raised an eyebrow, “did you hear of it?”

ix. Cor (Shasta) shrugged wordlessly, a little embarrassed. He made Aravis give him the name of the story, then turned and scurried off to find the court librarian. “Can you find a book for me?” he asked.

x. He was learning to read, you know. It was difficult. What a strange world, in which the illiterate sons of fishermen must learn to become kings.

xi. One day, during one of his walks as spring was arriving and all the ice was beginning to melt, Shasta (Cor) stood at the edge of a cliff and saw a rainbow arch across to the other side as though it were a bridge. It felt, obscurely, like a promise. 

xii. Cor was clumsy-footed and uncertain, but Aslan kept him back from the ledge. He'd build a bridge for Shasta to cross into his verdant, mountainous home. The Great Lion stood fast at every cliff, to make certain that Cor would not fall. 

xiii. Aravis found him in the library, struggling over the thick tome which contained the story of the two brothers and their colorless island. The language was more archaic than he was used to, and some of the letters were drawn with flourishes that got in the way of reading.

xiv. But then, Aravis sat down beside him and said, “Would you mind if I read aloud? I did so love that story as a girl.” She did not seem to be making fun of him, so Shasta handed her the book and settled in to listen.

xv. At the end of the story, the brothers escaped the island to a land where the sky was blue and grasses grew tall and green beyond the desert.  

[vase-of-lilies]

❀  Pairing: Dark!Vampire!Wanda x Vampire Hunter!Reader(F) (Some Wolf!Bucky x Reader x Wanda)

❀ Warnings: Non-con, dubcon, violence, vampire-esque content, dark!Wanda (she’s a warning…), blood and gore, draining of a body, biting for sexual stimulation, overstimulation, fingering, violence, swearing, use of a dagger, knife play, forced to strip, getting bitten by a vampire but not turning into one, bondage (restraints from ceiling), a punishment, pet names (Sweetheart, little one, etc.), slight somnophilia, spanking, and more!

❀ This is my second entry for @eloquentreverie ’s dusk till dawn challenge! The sentence I chose is:

“Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch you.”

❀ Disclaimer and Authors Note: The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. The pictures go to their rightful owners on Pinterest, and the comic-style pictures belong to the beautiful artist Jenifer Prince.

❀ I hope you like this addition to the collection of Creatures and Foreigners! I would die and be resurrected for vampire!wanda. Literally. This is a re-write, since the original was in 3 parts. To keep this organized, I just made it one post!!

It was time… It was time to catch the creature that was terrorizing the beautiful village you live in. Yorkshire is where you are from, where your beautiful home stands. It's a small cottage with a perfect view of the mountains gracing the East, the sunrises your favorite part of the day. When the sun sets in the west, it's when everyone locks their doors with iron chains, keeps a wooden stake by their beds, a garlic circle around their homes, and prays to the [whichever you believe in] and hopes they survive the night. 

You finally had the will to change this. To help the people you love feel a little safer at night who were terrified of the vampire who lived in the castle on the South Hill. The dark bricks and stones towered over the town, casting a large shadow over everyone at dusk. That shadow was the sign that it was time to prepare for the worst, for the creatures of the night to begin hunting for their midnight snacks. And lastly, for the vampire to find her next source of blood. 

For Wanda, she always loved human blood but never complained with cow, or sheep blood. It was the blood of a fighting soul that tasted best to her. There was something so satisfying watching the life drain from someone’s eyes once their body is empty of their blood. However, whether it was a man or a woman, she loved to torture them before she killed them. She would keep them locked up for days, weeks even, and keep them on their toes. She would feed them one day, and then break their legs the next. She was a storm that you never want to be stuck in the middle of. 

Packing your sash full of what you need was not a challenge at all. Each piece of equipment had a slot that it belonged to. One for your wooden sword, a small chain of iron links, garlic garland, iron cross bow, and last but not least your gun with the solid iron pellets ready to kill any vampire you see. It was not very heavy as one would think, having it around your shoulders made it very easy to access everything as well as keeping it light for you to carry around the woods. 

Wanda, being one of the only vampires in Yorkshire, knew she was being hunted. She could sense the tension coming closer to her castle every step you took down the newly stoned and paved pathway. She could smell your villager blood from miles away. It was a scent she could decipher in a split second. Cow blood smelled cold, almost like a winter morning. But human blood smelled like the moon had created it, making it much more appetizing than a mere animal. 

~~~~~~~

You could see the dark bricks of the castle from a far, your wooden sword drawn and ready to strike anything in its path. The forest became silent, indicating a predator was near and hungry. Leaves were heard crunching under fast footsteps coming closer and closer by the second. Your head whipped from right to left, not knowing where these footsteps were exactly. 

“Show yourself creature!” You shouted into the darkness of the forest. 

“Who are you?” A dark voice echoed in your surroundings, not pointing in a certain direction. 

Not shying from her, you answer honestly. “Y/n, of Yorkshire.” 

She chuckles, “Ah, so townsfolk, hm?” She watches from behind a tree as you struggle to find where her voice is coming from. She senses your fear, so to make matters worse she drags her nails against the trees creating an ear-splitting noise, making you drop your weapon and cover your ears. 

“Ah!!” You shout in pain. As you pull your hands from your ears your skin is coated in the sticky, crimson liquid. “Your time has come, y-you evil creature!”

Wanda chuckles at your struggle, “My time will never come… but yours have.” 

Your brows furrow and you reach for your iron bar. You smirk as you hear the hissing of the vampire, her power of sounding everywhere fading significantly, pointing in the direction of where she could be. “Don’t fucking come near me!” She growls, hiding behind another tree.

“Oh, so I found your weakness…”

She whimpers in response, “Don’t t-touch me!” Lighting your lantern, your eyes catch movement, and you grab the chainlink and throw it to where you see her. 

“Aha! Finally!” You walk over to her, smirking at her as she falls to the ground. “You are going to grant me a fortune…” You say darkly, looking at her with false pity in your eyes. Around you, a growling catches you off guard. Looking around, you don’t see anything immediately, but what Wanda says churns your stomach. 

“Y-your in t-tr-trouble.” She stutters, moving away from you slightly. Wanda smirks and you jump back in fear as a large black wolf shields the vampire. Grabbing your dagger, you lunge forward with no fear. 

“She’s mine!” You growl, slashing the wolfs shoulder making him whimper but he pushes through and pounces on you, biting your leg and ripping a chunk of skin off. You scream in pain, and scamper back as He rips the chains off of Wandas body. 

The last weapon you grab is your gun. You cock it back and point it at both the vampire and the wolf. “Stay back!” A whimper leaves your throat as you scoot back again, your leg dragging against the damp and cold soil below you. 

Wanda glares at you her eyes turning red and a red light appearing at her hands. Before you can pull the trigger, she flings the gun from your hands and your head follows it. Like lightning, your sash of tools was cut from your body and you were flung over Wandas shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Your arms and uninjured leg flail as you fight against the strong grip of Wandas arms around you, and as you look down from over her shoulder you see the wolf looking up at you smugly. He was with her all along, he wasn’t trying to take her too… You sighed and continued to struggle, all the way to the castle, down two flights of stairs, and through a door to a dungeon full of cells. She throws you onto a dingy cot in the corner of a cell, cuffs your wrists with metal cuffs that don’t hurt her, and leaned against the bars. 

“Let me go you monster!!” You pull the chains connected to the wall hoping to break them. But to no avail were you able to get out of the rings that locked your wrists. 

“Not happening.” Wanda states, staring at you from the edge of the cell. She looks at your leg and her hands turn red once again. You were scared as you felt the tingle in your leg, watching in awe as the chuck of skin missing from your leg was miraculously healed with only a few scars. It was just like the townsfolk said, she will torture you one day, and heal you the next. Making you unaware of what is going to happen next. 

You growl and shout at her. “What do you want from me??” You look up at her, tugging and pulling against the chains again. 

A hard slap across your face shuts you up, and you fall against the cot in surprise. You feel the hand shaped sting and a bruise already starting to form from how hard she hit you. “You tried to kill me and wanted to kill my baby!” She rubs soft circles against the wolfs slick black fur, and he whines softly as she grazes over the cut on his shoulder. 

You look at the wolf who is now eye level with me and you glare as you see your blood staining his teeth. “F-fuck you.” You whisper at him, scooting back as you feel blood dripping from your nose, the act of the slap causing trauma to your nose as well. 

“Oh don’t listen to her baby,” Wanda says calmly as she kneels next to the wolf beside her. “You’re such a good boy.” She smiles as he lets out a happy ‘arf’ and you roll your eyes at them.

“He’s a dumb dog.”  You scoff, leaning against the cool brick wall as you hold a piece of your dress against your nose. To your surprise she slaps you again, making you whimper once again. 

“He’s not just a dumb dog!” She shouts, outraged at your utter disrespect towards her loyal friend. As she was about to lunge at you, a gust of wind blows against your body and you look up to see a greek god of a man, who was formerly the wolf. You yelp in astonishment, never thinking that a werwolf and a vampire would ever be on the same team. 

“Mistress, she’s not worth it.” The man says, holding Wanda by her hips as she tries to scratch and punch at you. You scoot impossibly further from them, and you see Wanda visibly relax as the man holds her hips in his hands. 

“Bucky, she hurt you… she has to pay.” She whispers, ghosting her fingers over the wound on his shoulder. 

He only chuckles and cups her cheek. “Hey, it’s ok… it’ll heal up in no time. She’s weak, it barely hurt.” He kisses her lips, and gently runs his fingers through her hair. You growl and you look away from them, telling yourself internally that you are strong and that you almost had the vampire until the stupid dog showed up. 

She only sighs, staring up at him. “Such a good boy, protecting your mistress…” You mute them in your head as you look around, trying to find any way of escape. Pulling against the chains keeping you locked to the wall was not an option anymore, and fighting was practically useless against either monsters. Maybe it would be a good idea to cooperate. NO! No, don’t fall for her enchantment. She is evil. 

As Wanda sends a final slap to Buckys ass, he leaves the cell and you jump at the door slamming. It was when you were alone with Wanda that your fear really kicked in. “Hmm… look at you all scared.” She saunters over to you, a sadistic smile pulling at her lips. Chills are sent up your spine and a shiver shortly follows. You are vigorously pulling at the chains, whimpering every inch she comes closer to you. 

She sits down on the cot next to you, grabbing your newly healed leg and digging her finger nails into the sensitive skin. “Ah!! St-stop! Stop!” You sob, trying to push her away with all your might. She doesn’t budge and chuckles. 

“Now why would I do that?” She raises her brows at your reaction, smiling as you writhe against her, your whimpers music to her ears. She is arouse by your writhing and she digs her nails even deeper, tears free-falling down your cheeks. She ignores your pleas, shaking her head in disappointment. “You hurt my love. I certainly won’t stand for that.” 

You turn your head, your teary eyes focusing on the lines of the bricks stacked around you in your small cell, trying to ignore the pain in your leg. “What d-do you want f-from me?” You ask in a shaky voice, trembling under Wandas touch. You are confused as you feel warmth on your leg where her fingers had drawn blood. 

“You taste so fucking good…” She whispers. You furrow your brows and you realize she had tasted your blood. You pull at the chains, managing to kick her away from you as you struggle. She growls, having none of what you are giving her. She pounces on top of you, making you groan in pain. “Be grateful I didn’t kill you!”

A pained whimper makes you resent her even more, so you gather spit in your mouth and spew it onto Wandas face. She wipes the spit away in disgust and smacks you across the face again, much harder this time. Your vision becomes blurry and your head feels like it is in a daze. “Please, l-let m-me go,” You stutter, whimpering as you feel helpless looking up at her from your position below her. 

She ignores you and she runs her nose against your neck and to your ear “No,” she whispers, her fangs barely grazing your neck. With a smirk, she closes her jaw, puncturing your skin with her teeth. You scream in pain, your back arching against her as you struggle underneath her. 

It takes everything for Wanda to not drain you, so she pulls back reluctantly. “Shit, you taste like heaven,” she moans at the taste of your blood, smiling as she licks up the puncture wounds adorning your neck. “Mmm, you look better like this…” She says, looking at your writhing and twitching body on the cot. She bites her lip, her pussy starting to form a slick spot on her under garments. Her smirk scares you, and you stare at the ceiling trying to pull at the chains but failing miserably. 

“Please, n-n-no mo-more,” you curl against yourself, trying to hide your vulnerable form from your captor. She smacks your thigh, making you turn around on your back again. She chuckles darkly and bites her lip once again. 

“Look at you…” She says, not pitying you one ounce. It takes much strength to try and sit up, but you manage to do so with a lot of pain. Bowing your head into her lap, you beg her to make the pain stop. 

“Please! Pl-please it hurts s-so b-b-bad!” The bite pulses in pain, my blood pumping to try and close the wound. Sobs and whimpers make your body shake, and Wanda takes notice to her puncture wound on your neck. She sighs and begins to heal it, gently lifting you up. 

“It’s ok…” She says, rubbing small circles on your back as she lays you down on the pillow at the top of the cot. You quietly thank her as you feel the wounds on your neck close, the pain ceasing completely. 

“Why are you keeping me here?” You ask in a raspy voice, confused as to why she hasn’t killed you yet. She looks at you with a tilt of her head, thinking as to why she is keeping you. She smiles to herself and comes to a conclusion. 

“Because I like you. I don’t like that you hurt my baby, but I do like you.” You shook your head. Because she liked you? What is that supposed to mean? Not wanting to be on her bad side, you take the time to apologize. 

“I-im sorry I hurt him. I was trying to make my town finally proud of me.” You sigh softly, scooting away from her and pulling at the chains again.

“It’s ok sweetheart, you’re safe with me.” She whispers. 

“Dont you understand that Im scared of you?” You whimper, “Y-you bit me, a-and hurt me,” Your eyes meet hers, your confusion making you angry. “What is my purpose? A-am I just a toy? What am I?” You ask her, salty tears rolling in beads down your cheeks. She sighs and wipes the tears from your skin, giving you a soft kiss on the nose, ignoring your questions. 

“You’ll get used to me, I promise.” She smiles and pulls away. 

Your eyes narrow, as she stands up, leaving you. “What am I? Pl-please tell me!” You ask desperately, standing up with her but only making it so far until the chains pull you back. 

“Ill see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” Wanda says with a soft smile on her lips, closing the cell door and locking it. She makes her way up the stairs, ignoring your screams and profanities as she locks the dungeon door behind her and hanging the keys on the hook right next to it.  

When the sun rose the next morning, you waited anxiously for Wanda to come back down. Maybe she forgot about you, or doesn’t want to deal with you. What you dreaded most was the fact she may use you as a human blood bag and kill you. You didn’t fear death, you feared the feeling of your blood draining slowly from your body. The blood bubbling at every bite she leaves on you. The fear blocked the fact that it was morning, and she was most likely asleep in the darkness of her chambers above you. 

As you waited, you too fell asleep, dreaming of a place where you would rather be. Safe and in your best friends presence. “Steve… I miss you so much,” You whisper before fully dozing off. Deep in sleep, you don’t hear the metal cell door open and Wandas soft footsteps enter the room. You were too focused on staying warm in your shivering state. 

Wanda took note of your cold and shaking body, so she waved her hand and a soft, furry blanket appeared around your body. She smiled as you cuddled into the soft material and watched you sleep for a moment. Falling out of her staring trance, she sits down on the cot next to you. She gently rubs your back whispering, “Sweetheart? Sweetheart, wake up.” Instinctively you lean into the soft hand against your back, but the memories bombard their way back into your head making you sit straight up and scoot all the way back. 

You stared at Wanda with wide eyes, scared of her further intentions. You are confused as she hands you a bowl of cut up fruit and vegetables, curious as to where she got this food. “Here you go, eat up.” You furrow your brows and look down at the fruit, picking at it. Fishing for some type of sign of poison. Wanda just chuckles and leans against her hand as she watches you. “I promise, its not poisoned. You need to eat, especially after I drank some of your blood yesterday.”

Exhaling the breath you were not aware you were holding, you pick up a ruby, red strawberry. Ripe and firm to the touch. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied hum as you take a bite, the sweet tasting strawberry surrounding your tongue with glorious flavor. 

Wanda moves closer to you, sitting right next to you as you eat. She nuzzles her nose against your neck where two little fang marks sit proudly. You don’t take notice of her fully, the delicious fruit distracting you from Wandas intrusions, even lifting your head up in response. She hums a small chuckle and kisses your cheek, “You are so beautiful, little one. So beautiful.” Freezing your chewing, you swallow and look up at her in slight surprise, her comment catching you off guard.

Butterflies flutter in your belly at the closeness between the two of you, her warm breath against your lips and chin. “Do you really think so?” You whisper, not believing what she is saying at first. 

She nods, “I do, you’re so pretty…” She whispers back, kissing the soft skin of your neck. “And you smell so good, little one.” She hums as her nose moves up your neck, her lips pressing soft kisses in between soft sniffs. The gentleness of her gestures makes you drop the glass bowl in your hands, causing it to shatter against the stone floor. 

Both you and Wanda jump and she pulls away quickly. “Damnit, I can’t get many bowls or plates these days.” She murmurs, starting to collect the broken shards. 

“I-im sorry, I-it slipped,” You stutter, kneeling down to help pick up the shards too. You were too quick with the glass, cutting your finger in the process making you pull back with a wince. A small amount of blood oozes from the small cut and Wanda freezes, her pupils blown full at the smell of the exposed blood. 

She holds back, grabbing a small cloth from her dress and hands it to you, “Here.” She says curtly, but she is stopped. She tilts her head as you hold your hand out. 

“I can see how much you want it,” You say softly, wincing as she gently holds your hand in hers. 

“Are you sure?” She asks hesitantly, softly moaning at the smell as she gets closer. You nod and she brings your finger to her lips, licking the wound and emitting a low hum at the taste. Her eyes close and you look at her curiously. She is in a euphoric state, she is vulnerable and not paying attention when she is drinking your blood. Slowly you begin to become dizzy, the amount of blood coming from your finger increasing by the second. 

Before you can warn her, you fall against the mattress, fully losing consciousness at the loss of blood. Wanda sighs, laying down beside you on the bed. “It’s ok, I got you…” She whispers, her hand roaming the front of your body softly. Her hands cup your breasts, her finger grazing your pebbling nipple from under the fabric of your dress. Wanting to feel more, she unties the twine keeping the leather vest of your dress on and she smiles as it comes loose, your breasts showing themselves under the thin tunic. 

She reaches down your tunic, rubbing your bud softly between her fingers. Her lips kiss your neck, moving slowly down to your slightly exposed back. You feel her as you sleep, but you can’t comprehend anything to stop her. A small whimper exits your mouth and she pulls away for a moment, waiting for you to settle down again. Once your breathing is even, she explores further, lifting your shirt from your tucked in skirt. 

Her hand smoothes over your belly and just over the waist band of your undergarments, pushing under the fabric and to your soft curls underneath. She smiles as she buries her face in your neck, her fingers softly opening your petals and gently running her fingers over your slit. As she holds your folds open, she rubs circles over your clit, making you moan quietly in your sleep. 

As she pleasures you, she bites your neck softly only sucking a small amount of blood this time. Your gasp makes her smile around the wound on your neck and it makes her want even more of you. Her finger moves faster around your sensitive bud, your back arching against her front. Your legs open even more as you lay your head back against her. 

As she moves even faster, a strong and mind numbing orgasm washes over you, pushing you over the edge. Your legs shake in your sleep, and Wanda smirks as she removes her fingers from your undergarments. She brings her fingers to her mouth and hums in delight. “Absolutely delicious, my love.” She whispers in your ear, smirking as your breaths calm down from pants, to a normal rhythm again. Her hand moves to your breasts again, just holding the soft flesh in her hand and palming against them. 

She sighs as she senses you waking up, and makes sure everything is back in order; your shirt tucked into your skirt, tunic back in place, and laces on your leather vest tied with a bow at the top. Sitting up, she frowns at the raw skin and dried blood from around your wrists and unlocks the cuffs. She wraps her hands around the raw flesh and heals them in an instant, kissing them softly. 

She has hope that when the sun sets and the moon rises, you will no longer be in pain. “Mm, such a beautiful girl…” She whispers before she leaves the cell for the night, not thinking twice of the unlocked chains and completely forgetting to lock the cell and dungeon doors. 

~~~~~~~

You were only asleep for a small amount of time, waking up without Wanda anywhere to be seen. You sigh and sit up, feeling quite odd in your lower regions. However, the lack of metal around your wrists made every other thought disappear. Being able to walk around the cell felt nice, but your curiosity took you further. Right to the door. As you pushed, you were even more astonished as it opened. 

Pushing your luck even further, you walk up the spiral staircase to the door of the dungeon. With a gentle nudge, it squeaks open to reveal a large corridor, torches lit on each wall and blood red curtains hanging from each tall window. You were trapped and you were finally free, but the first thought you had was, ‘Where is Wanda?’

You wandered through the hallways, finding your way to the great hall, you come across a grand staircase. Alining the stairs was beautiful red and gold carpet and above it was a dark and spider web-covered, crystal chandelier. It shimmered as the fired torches flickered around the hall. You start to make your way upstairs, and as you walked down yet another hallway, you are stopped by a growl behind you and a searing pain in your leg. 

You instantly scream in agony, struggling against the iron jaws of the werwolf. He didn’t let up, even after hitting his head as he dragged you down the hall and to a bed room. Wandas bed room. Your eyes widen and you dig your nails into the carpet, only resulting in bleeding fingers. As you entered her room, you look up in fear as the woman towers over you. 

“Well, what do we have here?” Wanda tuts, looking down at you. 

You sob loudly as the wolf digs his teeth into your freshly healed leg. You yelp and you look up at her, “I- I wasn’t going t-to es-escape! I wa-wa- AHHH!” The wolf bites down even harder and you try your best to hit him, but it doesn’t phase him. 

“Buck, stand down…” She says, calling off the dog. She grabs you harshly by your shirt and drags you to her bed, throwing you on the mattress. “Don’t lie to me!” She growls, glaring at you as you push yourself away from her, scooting to the top of the bed. 

At this point you weigh out your options: One, you try to escape and get killed by Wanda, “Buck” the dog, or your village when you get back with no vampire. Or two, you stay here and get food, possibly a lover, and a pet dog. The latter sounded more than enjoyable and you break saying, “I- I promise! Th- the chains we-were off me wh-wh-when I woke up! P-please! I- I don't want t-to leave!” 

“Are you sure?” She asks with a growl, crawling towards you with a scowl on her face. “If you’re lying, I’ll feed you to him…” She says, pointing to Bucky who falsely lunges at you just to scare you. As you jump back from him, Wanda only chuckles.

“I-I’m not lying! Y-you’re so kind, a-and fed m-me!” You try, and Wanda sits down across from you on the bed. She grabs your ankle and pulls you to her. Her hands glow a bright red and the pain subsides from your leg again. You sigh in relief, hoping that she will forgive you. 

As she looks at you, she shakes her head and sighs softly. “I believe you, but there will be consequences.” 

Letting out a breath, you nod in understanding. “Y-yes I understand, please forgive me, i-it won’t ever happen again.” You sob, following her gentle movements as she pulls you to her arms. Your head falls onto her chest and she comforts you as you calm down. 

“I forgive you, little one,” She whispers, kissing your head softly and tickling the skin of your arm. “Now let’s go, I need to punish you.” She says, sitting up. Suddenly cold as ice again. Her bipolar emotions confuse you, just like the village said, she keeps you on your toes. 

She hardly grabs your wrist and pulls you down the flights of stairs to the dungeon again. You swiftly follow her, trying to keep up with her fast walking pace. Once in the dungeon, she pulls you to a different portion of the room, one full of many torture devices now considered controversial to use. You freeze as you take in the new surroundings and you jump as the bars slam closed and lock behind you. 

Wanda steps into the far wall of the room and grabs her tools she desires: Rope and a wooden paddle. You stared in horror at the tools as she lays them down on the table next to a long chain connected to the ceiling. From a hidden sheath on the side of her thigh, she pulls out a sharp dagger, pointing it at you. 

She stalks towards you, holding the knife at the height of your neck. Backing up, you whimper as your back hits the cold, metal bars, Wanda then putting the tip of the blade against your neck. “Strip.” She says, pulling away from you. Frozen in fear, you don’t account for her command and you stare at her. To make you cooperate, she sends a glowing ball of energy towards you making you duck in response. 

“Im going to repeat myself, and you better listen this time…” She says in a dark voice, only warning you once. “Now, Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch you.” 

Swallowing your pride, you obey her. Untying the twine holding your vest over your torso, untucking your tunic from your skirt, pulling the string from around the back, and finally the removing of it all. Wanda was in fact a very patient women, and she made that clear. She growls at your speed and makes her hand light up with energy again. “Slower…” She says. Once again, you obey.

One piece of clothing after another, no less than four (4) seconds between each. Finally, you were down to your brazier and pantyhose. Wanda watches at you, a sadistic smile on her face as she saunters towards you with the dagger in hand. She grabs your wrist and pulls you to the middle of the floor. Of course you struggled. Wanda was angry, and you had only seen a sliver of it. 

“Good girl… hold your wrists together.” She says, holding the dagger to your neck again. You felt immense fear as you held them together, and sucked in a breath as a tendril of red energy wraps its way around the dagger keeping it against your neck. Wanda moves around you, grabbing the rope from the wooden cart settled near by. She comes to your front again and begins to wrap a few rings of rope around your wrists. Circle by circle of rope, you were rendered unable to move your hands anywhere, only your arms could move up and down. 

You whimpered as Wanda wrapped a heavy padlock around the middle of the rope and easily pulled your arms up to the hook hanging above you. She steps away, taking the dagger with her and moves to the far wall. Using her strength, she pulls the chains connected to the ceiling up higher than it was before, pulling you up with them. You arms pulled against your body and when she finished locking the chains in place, you could barely graze the floor with your toes. 

Whimpers left your mouth and you could’t hide the fear anymore. Salty tears fell down your cheeks and landed on your chest and the floor. With false pity, Wanda pouted her lip. “Aw, don’t cry little one… It will only hurt a little.” Her voice was full of lies, and you knew this pain would be excruciating. 

Tears fell down your cheeks, but Wanda paid no attention to your emotions, only your reactions to the sensations she was going to give you. In an instant, she had cut through the thin material of your brazier leaving your breasts exposed to her. She smiles and leans down, kissing the ample skin of your right breast. Your nipples harden in the cold atmosphere of the room, Wandas mouth and hand going straight to them. She rubs, licks, sucks, rolls, and pleasures your buds, pushing a burning desire in your lower belly. She could sense this and smirks as she runs the knife down your torso. 

She turns the knife against your stomach, tilting it and smirking at the small bit of blood pooling at the surface of the small cut. “Mm, I can smell you… my god you smell so fucking good, little one.” She smiles against your breast and kisses along your belly all the way to the small cut just above your belly button. As her lips encase the wound, she moans in delight at the taste of your blood. Her sharp fangs graze against your skin and she nips as she moves lower. 

Her dagger is now in the waist band of your underwear, teasing the fabric, slowly tearing it. As she makes it through the elastic, she puts the knife down and rips your underwear in two, tossing the fabric at your feet. As you stand bare in front of her, she stands back, a smirk adorning her face. “So beautiful…” She whispers, starting to circle your hanging body. You cross your legs, trying to cover your most intimate parts, but are quickly stopped as Wandas hand slaps your thigh. “No, keep them open. I want to see what’s mine!” She growls, smoothing her hand over the skin of your legs. 

As she stands behind you, she grabs the paddle, spinning it in her hands. “Alright, how many should we do?” She asks to no one in particular. She hums and chuckles, “How about until you bleed?” She whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe. She takes a step back and raises the paddle, swinging it against your ass, hard. You scream in agony, attempting to walk forward, only moving right back to where you were. Wanda admires the red mark on your ass, smiling as she rubs her hand against your burning skin. 

Another swat, another scream. More tears fall down your face with each and every hit from the wooden paddle, yet the fiery feeling in your gut gets stronger. It was a confusing feeling, getting aroused from being beaten. 

It felt like ages when Wanda finally stopped. Your ass was sore, bloody, and bruised. A dark black and purple spot forming on each cheek. She puts the paddle down and reaches for more rope. You silently groan at the thought of there being anymore to come. Gently, Wanda grabs your knee, wrapping the rope around it and pulling the excess rope to the hook above you. The raises your leg, slowly starting to expose your slick folds to her. She follows by securing your other leg in the same fashion. 

Now fulling spread out for her, she hums at her work. “Are you ready for the good part?” She asks.

You shake your head and look at her, “N-nothing g-g-good is going to co-come.” You stutter, your voice scratchy from the previous screaming. She sighs and shakes her head. 

“You poor, little thing. There are so many things I can make good, if only you would obey, and submit to me.” She steps closer, her hands holding your hips. 

You look down at her, whimpering in response. Your silence is enough of an answer to her, indicating you were not falling for her games just yet. She removes one hand off of your hip and looks down at your pussy. “Look how wet you are,” she says, rubbing her hand over your soaked lips. You struggle to close your legs, the rope rendering you completely un able to move. Her fingers spread your pussy open, your clit revealing its throbbing self. 

Your slick covers Wandas fingers as she dips her fingers close to your hole, smirking at your reaction. “You must be so sensitive, huh? Your ass all bruised. Is that what made you so wet?” She tilts her head up, looking for an answer. You shake your head quickly, not wanting to admit that it was the exact reason you were wet. 

To your horror, Wanda approaches the chain holding you up again. She raises it until you are much higher than before, your body swaying with her movement. Wrapping the chain around the hook to keep you where you are, she returns to you, your pussy right in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting to taste your delicious nectar all day…” She says, kissing your inner thighs softly. 

You hold your breath as she takes her first taste of you, her tongue licking a stripe right between your petals. Her tongue swirled around your clit, the bud inching to be touched. You can’t deny it, the pleasure that she is bestowing upon you is mind-shattering. The moans from your mouth make Wanda smile, her fingers coming to join her mouth. 

She sucks on your clit, her lips closing around it, and her fingers poking at your hole. You try to avoid her but it doesn’t work. As she continues to suck on your sensitive clit, two fingers slide into your pussy. You let out a soft sob, an unintended moan slipping out right after. Something inside of Wanda loves the sounds you make, her pussy feeling the same tension as yours. 

As she works her fingers in and out of your cunt, you are already close to your first orgasm and Wanda can’t wait to see it. She witnessed one while you were asleep, but she knew it was nothing like when you would be awake. Faster her fingers became, and your moans became louder as they curl inside of you, rubbing against that one good spot. 

One soft graze of her teeth against your clit was what sent you over the edge. Your legs shake, your orgasm passing through your whole body. Your mind was empty and seeing white, your chest was heaving, your pussy was throbbing, and your toes curled in pleasure. But Wanda didn’t stop. 

An hour went by. She devoured your cunt, not letting you take a break. Five orgasms later, she finally pulled away from your pussy, letting you rest. You were exhausted, your eyes barely able to stay open and your mind unable to comprehend how long you had been tied up. Wanda looked up at you, kissing and rubbing your legs to soothe you. “It’s ok, little one, its all over now.” She says with a soft smile, your head hanging in front of your arms and looking down at her. 

She walks to the wall and gently lowers you to the ground. She unties your legs, but keeps the rope around your wrists. Picking you up, she brings you to your cell again, laying down with you. She pulls your tied arms over her head, forcing you to hold her and she hums as she nuzzles into your neck. 

You lay silently, sleep taking over your system. Wanda hums a quiet lullaby, knowing deep down you loved every minute you were in that dungeon. Maybe someday she will move you out of the dungeon and into a room of your own. Or even her room. But at this moment in time, she wanted to hold you and tell you everything is going to be ok, because it will be. She will protect you and never let you go despite your desperate attempts to escape. Some days she purposely lets you escape, get halfway into the forest, and have Bucky drag you right back into your cell. 

It is laughable what effort you put into it, even though you know she will catch you Every. Single. Time.

And you accepted that. She won no matter what. You even learned that Bucky really likes his chin scratched in his wolf form, but you both have a love-hate relationship. Always calling him a dog, or a mutt, and him calling you a blood bag. 

Wanda kept her word and protected you from anything that was thrown your way. In return, you kept her full of nutrients and energy. She used you for dessert, blood and body both. You learned to love it. Everything Wanda did to you, for you, with you, was out of love. Love and of course, lust. Your blood kept her alive, and she looked forward to it after a long night of hunting. 

She deserved it. After all, she saved you from your horrible town, right?

[poeticmusingsblog]

The twists and twirls, the highs and lows,

The rare and common, the fast and slow.

Let none of it slip away from your hands,

For together they make life oh so grand.

In every moment, there's a dance to behold,

A story of existence, waiting to be told.

Embrace each second, let your tale unfold,

For life's full canvas is yours to mold.

So catch the sunsets, chase the dawn,

Celebrate the silence, welcome the yawn.

Life's a symphony, to which we're drawn,

A masterpiece from dusk till dawn.

[janaem]

Let Me Rule You

Jareth x f.reader

This is chapter 1 Synopsis: She never imagined that she would once again be drawn into the enchanting world of fictional characters, a place she had not ventured into for many years. However, on a warm summer Saturday night, everything changed as she found herself captivated by the enigmatic goblin king, Jareth, while watching the mesmerizing film "Labyrinth." Word count: 5.4k (20 pages)Warnings for this chapter: swearing and arguments Key: Y/n= your name | L/n= last name | M/n= mom name | d/n= dog name For visual purposes, here is the house you are living in. Author note: It's sure been a while since I wrote something as long as this. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter as much as I did! I don't intend for this to be a slow burn, but I'm sure not rushing to the climax either. Things will definitely start to progress in the chapters to come at a reasonable pace since I'm aiming for this to be only a few chapters. I will also be publishing this on ao3 and wattpad:)

The dusk was calm, and the only movements were the swaying of the trees in the warm midsummer breeze. The dark green leaves of the trees fell sporadically on the fresh pavement street of Evansville. It is a typical upper-middle-class suburb located on the outskirts of the great city, beyond its beautiful lake. During the summer, Evansville is usually bustling with life. Kids can be seen racing on their scooters while their parents watch from the front lawn of their craftsman and single-family-style homes. Teenagers speed down Sherhigh Avenue by the Lakefront with their windows rolled down, blasting music and singing the lyrics. The beaches are always full from morning till nearly midnight.

Nestled close to the tranquil lakefront was Nordstin Street, which exuded an air of a close community feel. From afternoon till night, the neighborhood was painted with playful children and their parents' laughter on their lawns, the jingle of ice cream trucks, and frequent splashes from small backyard pools.

But once dusk faded away, it was different. The winds picked up abruptly around four thirty and leaves started dancing in a choreographed frenzy while flower petals broke free from their delicate confines. The windows of these sturdy homes rattled, adding a discordant note to the chaos. The tides of the lake were more than violent, threatening to engulf anything in their path. The crashing waves against the cluster of boulders are reminiscent of clashing symbols. 

In the heart of Nordstin, a grand single-family home exudes warmth and elegance. The gray fiber cement exterior, adorned with white accents, perfectly complements the intricately decorated gray brick roof. The beautiful porch is a work of art, supported by sturdy white stone pillars, making it both practical and stunning.

In the vast living room downstairs, an eighteen-year-old, Y/n,  lounged on the cream sectional sofa, surrounded by plush beige pillows of varying textures. With one pillow snug against her torso, she tuned into the news forecast, her gaze fixed on the screen as she observed the latest updates.

The male news reporter's voice filled the room, his words a solemn warning. "The winds are blowing at 26 miles per hour," he announced, his tone carrying a sense of urgency. "It's best to stay home if you don't need to be outside, especially away from water." 

Suddenly, a harsh voice from the kitchen shatters the tranquility, disrupting Y/n's peace of mind.

Y/n’s mother, m/n, walked urgently from the kitchen and halted at the entrance of the living room, wearing an unpleasant expression. She holds a meticulously cleaned empty Tupperware container in her left hand. 

“Y/n,  did you eat the last of the lasagna?” She asked, shaking the container so it was brought to Y/n’s attention. 

Y/n looked over at her displeased mother and replied dryly, "Yeah."

Her mother gives her a repulsed look, “Why? What makes you think it’s okay to eat up everything in this house and not leave anything left for anyone?” 

Y/n gave her a look of offense, sitting up from her leisure posture, her voice remained level, “Those were the only leftovers I ate. And you told me that I could  help myself to whatever I wanted today.”  

“That doesn’t mean you eat a whole thing of lasagna, Y/n. You can’t always think about yourself!” 

“It wasn’t even half of a container mom, relax.” 

“Don’t tell me to relax. I know what was in there.”

“Can you please stop yelling?” 

“I’m not yelling! This is how I talk.”

Already feeling fatigued from the ongoing conversation, Y/n released a small, exhausted sigh, grabbed the remote, and switched from the news channel in search of something else to ease her mind.

However, the fuming woman continued, “You could’ve called me asking if you could save me some because that is a lot for one person.”

“It wasn’t.” Y/n had completely given up.

“Okay, Y/n,” m/n scoffed, walking back into the kitchen, “This is ridiculous, you think about nobody else but yourself.  Your dad and I are already paying for your college, and the least you can do is not act selfish all the time!”

Y/n turned up the volume of the television, finally finding a show that piqued her interest. Unfortunately, she could still hear the immature mutters of her mother’s complaints.

“It’s all about Y/n, Y/n, Y/n…never thinking about anyone else…that’s sad…this is ridiculous!...eat something healthy…never seen anything like it…eighteen years old…”

“So fucking extra,” Y/n huffed, turning down the volume of the television. She throws the pillow from where it landed with the other pile of pillows on the couch and walks up to her room, considering watching a movie there instead. Maybe she’ll Facetime her friend to vent about how unbearable her mom was acting again. 

It wasn't uncommon for Y/n and her mother to engage in disputes, which seemed to arise almost daily, creating an atmosphere of constant tension. By now, Y/n was used to it, maintaining a more composed demeanor. However, there are times when she'll mirror or even exceed her mother's outbursts. Their relationship wasn't entirely negative, but it was far from fulfilling. As for her father, Y/n's connection with him was characterized by neutrality with a more manageable dynamic. He was currently on a trip with her uncle and a few friends at Turks & Caicos and won’t be back for another five days.

Y/n walked into her room, paying no attention to the insistent buzzing of her phone on her eider white desk. She sank into her plush queen-sized bed, surrounded by a sea of pillows and stuffed animals, and disappeared under the soft covers, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction.

She didn't want to get too hot under the covers in her oversized hoodie, so she shifted to a more upright position, reached under a nearby pillow, retrieved the remote, and switched on the television. The clock on the top right-hand corner of the starting page displayed 9:45 pm. She then clicked on one of the streaming apps and started browsing through the movies, uncertain of her current mood.

Y/n, with a deep appreciation for classic films, gravitated towards the 80s-90s subcategory. The screen was filled with a vibrant array of movie covers competing for her attention. As she scrolled through the seemingly endless list of movies, Y/n's eyes eagerly scanned the colorful and nostalgic offerings.

She scrolled through rows and rows of movies of all kinds, eventually getting bored and heading over to the sidebar for a better selection. There, subcategories of the 80s and 90s movies appeared: Action, Romance, Documentary, thriller…

Fantasy.

It has been a while since Y/n watched any fantasy-related films, especially older ones with effects that she found to be somewhat uncoordinated and eerie. However, curiosity got the best of her, so she clicked on it, and a series of other subcategories dropped down: Animation, Fairy Tale, Steampunk, Vampires...

Cult films.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at the name, “Cult?” she whispered as if she was sounding it out for the first time.

As she clicked on the remote, a rush of warmth and excitement filled her chest. Her eyes eagerly scanned the screen, searching for a familiar movie. Despite having watched The Neverending Story countless times, she scrolled past it along with other movies like The Dark Crystal, Short Circuit, Big Trouble in Little China, and The Goonies. 

Yet, an inexplicable urge drove her to keep searching. After a few more minutes, she suddenly paused, as if an unseen force prevented her thumb from clicking the arrow button, and her gaze settled on a movie she had never come across before.

Jim Henson’s Labyrinth.

Y/n felt an overwhelming and unexplainable sensation coursing through her body as she gazed at the movie cover and its title. It seemed to evoke a powerful wave of nostalgia, captivating her as she fixed her eyes on the glowing screen.

She clicked on the movie, reading its summary.

“Sixteen-year-old Sarah is given thirteen hours to solve a labyrinth and rescue her baby brother Toby when her wish for him to be taken away is granted by the Goblin King Jareth.”

“Poor girl,” Y/n commented as she pressed play, where the credits roll while a white barn owl flies around. Her dog, D/n, shoved the door open with their nose and climbed into bed with her, lying at her legs.

Y/n was captivated by the film's cinematic elements and grainy aesthetic. In particular, she found the character Sarah Williams, to be incredibly gorgeous. Despite her beauty and gentle appearance, Y/n observed that Sarah's behavior didn't align, from her furious stomping into the house to her tendency to catastrophize minor inconveniences. 

Y/n grimaced at the first appearance of the goblins, all jumbled up as they awoke from their slumber. Their raspy and grating voices matched their grotesque appearances.  When they emerged in the bedroom after Sarah's brother went missing, they appeared in various parts of the room--- under the bedsheets, inside closets, behind the door. Sarah looked around frantically, unable to catch a break. Then, suddenly, the same white barn owl from the movie's beginning barges into the room through the balcony doors and lunges at Sarah. Startled, Sarah shields her eyes, and then a human shadow emerges at Sarah's feet.

The once barn owl had been mystically transformed into a human being. Y/n took in his lithe stature, which stood in a way that excluded flamboyance and regal confidence. His long, dark, and dramatic coat, adorned with intricate designs and embellishments, billowed in the wind as he made his captivating presence known on screen.

"You're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King." 

The Goblin King tilts his head, offering Sarah a proud smirk. Y/n couldn't help but notice his untamed, tousled blond locks that framed his face, enhancing his unconventional and otherworldly allure.

"Sarah…go back to your room. Play with your toys and your costumes. Forget about the baby."

His voice flowed like honey, smooth and melodious. Y/n had heard that voice before, possessed by others, yet the Goblin King made it uniquely captivating with its rich, velvety timbre.

"I've brought you a gift."

"It's a crystal, nothing more."

The Goblin King outstretched his gloved hand, and a translucent ball appeared out of thin air. Y/n's eyebrows raised in awe as he effortlessly juggled it about his hands in a way she'd never seen before. It rolled from one hand to another, from his fingertips to the palm of his hand.

"But if you turn it this way and look into it, it'll show you your dreams."

As the film played, Y/n was entirely captivated by the intricate and fantastical journey unfolding before her. She couldn't help but admire Sarah's courageous interactions with the strange and repulsive creatures, except the adorable worm at the beginning. Fairies, goblins, and monsters filled the screen, leaving Y/n in awe of the film's grungy artistry. She started taking a liking to Hoggle, although he is a coward, he truly cared for Sarah and her wellbeing, which is the type of friend that anyone could need in such desperate times.  However, above all the characters Y/n found remarkable, the enigmatic Goblin King, Jareth, captured her attention every time he appeared.

The ballroom scene, in particular, mesmerized Y/n, watching as Jareth's intense yet affectionate gaze lingered on Sarah in a way that set Y/n's nerves ablaze, leaving her breathless. Amidst the dancing figures and smooth song, Y/n couldn't help but imagine herself in Sarah's place, enveloped in the lingering sensation of Jareth's possessive regard.  

As she watched, a soft sigh escaped her parted lips, tinged with wistfulness. She pondered what it would be like to be looked upon with such desire in a crowded room, to be longed by someone you secretly desired, as you sought them out in the hopes of meeting their eyes again. She briefly fantasized about being in Sarah's place, feeling the electricity of Jareth's presence, drawing her closer every second.

Y/n's growing desires and anticipation danced amongst the sea of masked faces and whispered secrets. What would it feel like to be carefully handled the way Jareth did Sarah at that moment as she nearly lost herself in his eyes? She wondered this throughout the rest of the film, as the last scene with Jareth played on screen.

“Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say, and I will be your slave.”

A sickening sweet feeling aroused in the very heart of Y/n’s chest, causing her breath to abruptly become shallow as if it were her first time trying to breathe. Eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, she took in the lithe being presented on screen in front of her. Everything in her room surrounding her began to fall and fade away—all she could see was him. 

“Yes,” she subconsciously whispered, “say yes.”

“You have no power over me.” Sarah’s voice rang triumphantly, as the goblin king gave in, taking the form in his owl self once again.

As the film came to a close and the end credits started rolling, Y/n sank further into her pillows and covers. 

“I feel like there should’ve been more to the film,” she said to herself, “something’s missing. I’m not satisfied.”

D/n stirred in their sleep, not paying mind to a work y/n just said. The girl sighed, seizing the remote once more to watch something different.

That was until the door flew open and her moments of peace were shattered once again by the sharpness of m/n’s tone.

“Why didn’t you help me with dinner,”  she questioned, “let alone, make dinner?”

“It’s too late for dinner,” Y/n replied, “plus I’m not hungry.”

“So, you disregard everyone else in the house after you ate two servings of lasagna?”

“I guess so.” Y/n deadpanned, refusing to fuel the fire with the rebuttal about the lasagna being enough for one person. 

“Unbelievable,”  M/n huffed, putting her hands on her hips and looking around the room, “your room’s a mess.”

“Okay.” Y/n replied dismissively.

“No, I’m being serious, Y/n. You’re going to have a roommate in college and I sure hope you two get along through all this mess.” Her mother turned on the lights abruptly, waking up d/n and irritating Y/n. 

“Mom, what the heck,” Y/n fumed, getting out of her bed, and rushing to the wall to turn off the lights, the room went dark once again, “It’s eleven o’clock!”

“I expect you to get up tomorrow and clean this room,”  m/n declared, walking to the food frame, “I’m going to bed, and I want you to think about ways you can use your time more productively.”

Before y/n could fire back, M/n was already gone, shutting the lights of her room off. 

The eighteen-year-old girl couldn't catch a break even before bedtime. M/n, while not overly strict, had this unspoken rule that Y/n should just think like her. It led to endless clashes between them, leaving Y/n feeling weighed down.

Talking to friends helped a bit, but the constant disagreements with M/n still felt like a heavy burden on Y/n's chest. Trying to find common ground with someone who seemed to see the world differently was tough, and Y/n knew there was little to do about it.

"It'll all be over in a few months," Y/n told herself while she returned to her bed, submerging into the covers once more, turning off the television, and falling into a deep sleep, searching for peace of mind.

It was well into the morning when Y/n woke up to the sound of a mourning dove, the clock just nearing 10:45 am. She knew her mother was already awake, perhaps reading a book and having breakfast in her room. She planned to say good morning to her later.

D/n, who was once at the foot of her bed, was now propped up, wagging their tail in excitement to see Y/n, who smiled as she melted into the dog’s soft and loving gaze as she ruffled their fur. 

Y/n decided that this morning she would clean up her room and place all the unnecessary things in a giveaway bag. She immediately went downstairs, grabbed a garbage bag and a glass of water, and rushed back upstairs to get to work in her considerably well-kept room.

She wasn’t doing this because she wanted to; she was doing this so she wouldn’t be greeted by a nagging mother.

D/n remained on the bed, peering over at Y/n curiously as she continued. Y/n opened the cabinet of her desk and began rummaging through items she’d touched in recent months, setting aside everything except for one particular item. Tucked away at the back of the stacks of read novels and old workbooks rested a pristine bin.

She tossed the workbooks aside, intending to dispose of them, and placed the novels on top of her desk next to her computer, calendar, and another smaller stack of books. She then reached for the bin she hadn’t seen in over a few years. It was a simple clear plastic bin with a turquoise lid.

As she eagerly lifted the lid, a rush of nostalgia engulfed her senses. Beneath the lid lay a jumble of crumpled lined papers adorned with intricate drawings, stacked on top of older notebooks, comics, and mangas, which in turn rested upon other well-loved books from her middle school days. It was a veritable treasure trove of memories that Y/n found impossible to resist. Without hesitation, she reached for the first item on top - a character sheet.

Growing up, Y/n's love for storytelling and creativity knew no bounds. She had especially displayed a remarkable talent for crafting complex characters and their elaborate backstories. While progressing in her budding artistic skills, her true passion lay in building and immersing herself in fantastical worlds. She was engrossed in the worlds of anime, mangas, and fiction which surpassed the typical interests of children her age. Her mind was a treasure trove of knowledge, brimming with insights into various fandoms, literary works, and both contemporary and classic fantasy films.

“No way!” she chuckled, flipping through a notebook full of her drawings of characters she’d seen in anime along with anime characters she'd made up. Each page was adorned with meticulous side notes containing non-canon theories, potential romantic head-canons, and intricately woven backstories that she had crafted from her boundless imagination.

As Y/n spent the next twenty minutes soaring down memory lane, she felt a sinking in her chest, leaving her feeling empty and yearning for that same sense of creativity to ignite within her once again.

She continued sifting through the pile of memories until she reached the bottom, where she found a black velvet notebook with plain white pages. Upon picking it up, she discovered that it was empty. Feeling a bit disappointed, she placed all the objects back into the bin, carefully arranging them in the small compartment.

As she did so, she recalled the various stories she had created in the past - witches, vampires, fairies, and superheroes. She especially missed the sense of accomplishment she felt upon completing each small project, as well as the innocent crushes developed on fictional characters from specific scenes and fan fiction.

Y/n missed how she didn't have a care in the world between what was real and what was fake.

She got up and ascended the stairs once more with the garbage bin at hand and placed it at the bottom of the back door. She figured that once her father came back he’d drive it over to the Salvation Army warehouse. She walked into the kitchen welcomed by the blaring sound of the blender her mom was using to make a smoothie. 

M/n stopped the blender and poured some of the smoothie into a glass cup, handing it to Y/n with a “Good morning sweetie.”

“Good morning, Mom,” Y/n replied, taking a small sip of the berry enriched smoothie, “how did you sleep?”

“Oh, I slept fine,” M/n replied, unplugging the blender and setting it aside on the kitchen’s white valley granite countertop, “the bed feels empty without your dad in it.”

“I’m sure.” Y/n agreed leaning against the counter and taking another sip.

“Did you sleep alright?” M/n asked.

Y/n nodded.

“Good,” M/n noted, about to sip her smoothie once more; she then stopped, “Where’s D/n?”

“Upstairs,” Y/n replied.

“You should always take your dog out for a walk in the morning.” M/n inputted, setting her smoothie down.

“I know, but she was asleep and I was cleaning my room and disposing of things I didn’t need.”

“So, you were up this entire time and didn’t bother to walk your dog or make us any breakfast?”

Y/n studied her mother’s furrowed expression, not sure of what to say.

“Your room would have waited, Y/n. You need to start—”

“Mom, I don’t wanna hear it, it’s too early.” Y/n interrupted, feeling her boiling blood course through her veins.

M/n disregarded her daughter's advances, “It’s nearly noon, Y/n and we’ve barely eaten. I need you to start thinking and be able to multitask and take the initiative. What you’re doing right now won’t get you far in your career.”

Y/n had heard M/n repeat this thousands of times, using as many things to say back in previous times, Y/n was now worn out. 

“Whatever.” She uttered making her way to the kitchen’s exit.

“Excuse me?” M/n’s tone was sharper now.

“Nothing, Mom.”

“Y/n, I tell you these things so you can become more mature. The behavior has gotten too far. You’re eighteen years old and it’s ridiculous the way you act at such a grown age. I constantly have to repeat myself—”

“Then don’t,” Y/n argued.

“Then give me a reason not to,” M/n fired back, “I’ve never seen your age treat her mother the way you do and act selfishly and dismissively.”

Y/n sighed, “This is so unnecessary. All of this over breakfast.”

“You belittle everything, Y/n. Grow up.”

“You can relax now.”

“Grow up.”

“Telling me to grow up won’t do anything.” 

“What I’m saying, sweetie is that you–”

“Okay, mom. I get it. I’ll do better.” Y/n surrendered, not wanting to ignite the flame any further. She was already getting a sickening feeling in her stomach.

She exited the kitchen and rushed up the stairs and back into her room, shutting the door behind her. She set her smoothie down on her desk and paced her room feeling a lump forming in her throat. 

“It’s like she always has to start a problem no matter what I do!” She hiccuped feeling her eyes sting with tears. 

“Can’t she just let me live for once, God, for fucking once!” 

Tears streamed down her face, hanging at her chin, she looked outside at the clear blue sky with the sun well overhead.

“Y/n! Walk your dog!” Her mother yelled from downstairs.

“Okay!” Y/n’s seething voice cracked, “shut up.” she muttered sniffling.

“Now!”

“Give me a minute!”

More tears started spilling down Y/n’s face. She sobbed and hiccuped quietly, continuing to look out her window, which was only a few feet away. Her heart was aching, and her throat was twisted in a knot of sorrow; her chest heaved with exhaustion. She started to cry harder after she attempted to swallow her tears; she knew M/n was going to notice her tear-stricken face. 

Y/n grabbed her phone and trudged over to her bed and plopped down on her back, sighing in defeat. She figured that before she walked D/n she would at least distract herself from the pang of sorrow that knocked at her chest. 

She opened her web browser and typed in “labyrinth 1986,” and thousands of search results appeared, including links to websites, articles, videos, and even books and comics.

The girl's eyes widened in disbelief as she clicked on the first image that showed the same book with a striking red cover that Sarah had been carrying at the park.

“No way, there’s an official novelization of the labyrinth,” she gasped as she further searched. To her surprise, there were comics and mangas as well.

The pain Y/n was feeling suddenly subsided, replaced by a sense of wonder and excitement as she eagerly read through the summaries and reviews for each comic, book, and archived piece available.

“Finally back in print and for the first time in hardcover is the novelization of LABYRINTH written by A.C.H. Smith and personally overseen by Jim Henson. This is the first in a series of novels from the Jim Henson Archives.”

“Labyrinth: Coronation is a 12-issue comic book series written by Simon Spurrier and illustrated by Daniel Bayliss, published by Archaia from 2018 to 2019. It is a prequel to the 1986 film Labyrinth that takes place in 18th-century Venice and tells the story of how Jareth became the Goblin King.”

“You’re lying” Y/n muttered, enticed by the various series of books presented before her, she clicked on the official novelization first, seeing that it was available in her local bookstore for $30, seeing that there was only one in stock, she made a reservation to pick it up today on her walk with D/n.

“I have to have it.” She said putting in her online payment, which had been successfully authorized. 

Thank you for your purchase! The book you have requested will be available within 20 minutes. You have two days to pick it up.

“Oh, shit I gotta go.” Y/n gasped frantically getting out of her bed. She rushed to her closet and grabbed a pair of gray sweats and a simple scoop navy blue cami top, throwing on white socks. She grabbed her mini purse with her wallet inside and made her way down the stairs, D/n  followed.

“I’m going to the library, D/n is coming with me,” Y/n said as she passed the living room where M/n sat on her computer. 

“Okay. Take the car of course.” M/n replied in deep concentration on whatever was on screen. 

Y/n unlatched the garage door, the sound of its metal creaking filling the air as she stepped inside. She slipped on her comfortable slides and made her way to her car, with D/n following closely behind her. The afternoon sun poured into the garage as she settled into the driver's seat, and D/n took their place in the passenger seat. Y/n rolled down the windows, feeling the warm summer breeze on her skin as she carefully reversed out of the garage and onto the driveway. She made her way down Nordstin Street, making a right onto Seems Street, she marveled at the vibrant activity around her, knowing that the lakefront was only a couple of streets away. It was nearly one o’clock, and the streets were alive with the energy of people going about their day.

It didn't take long before Y/n reached the library. Finding a snug parking spot near the entrance.

She turned to D/n, letting all the windows up, leaving the passenger’s side slightly cracked.

“I’ll be right back, the window will be cracked for you,” she said leaning in and giving her sweet dog a peck on the nose.

She quickly exited the car and walked up to the library and opened the dark wooden doors, where she paid no attention to her surroundings as she marched straight to the front desk, which was occupied by a lady cashier. They greeted each other warmly.

“My name is Y/n L/n and I purchased Jim Henson’s Labyrinth today.” She spoke clearly. 

As the lady behind the counter heard Y/n's request, she paused, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she searched for the book. With a few swift clicks to confirm the order, she leaned down and carefully retrieved the treasure Y/n had sought. The rich, crimson book with the elegant golden title "Labyrinth" embossed on its cover was presented before the younger girl, its allure captivating her gaze.

“You’re all set Miss L/n, have a good day!” She chirped sweetly. 

“You too!” Y/n returned as she made her way to the front door, her heart hammering in her chest in anticipation as she made her way back to the car. Luckily, there was a park just across the street from the library.

Y/n opened the car door and let D/n out, the leash making a jingling sound as the dog shook its fur. Y/n shut the door and grabbed hold of the leash, holding the book in another hand and the two made their way to Gillson Park.

Gillson Park was one of the more popular parks in Evansville because it was known for its stunning natural landscapes that are cherished by both locals and visitors alike. Characterized by lush greenery, serene ponds reflecting the sky, and winding walking trails on steep hills. Tall trees provide a cool respite from the summer sun, while colorful blossoms add vibrancy to the surroundings. Many may describe it as a meadow away from the bustling suburban life. 

Y/n found a nice bench by an open field, letting D/n’s leash to wander about the grass and flowers. She propped herself so that she was lying across the bench comfortably, her elbow resting on the arms of the bench. She opened the first page and began to embark on her reading journey.

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child you have stolen.” She read aloud, attempting to capture the determination in Sarah’s voice, she chuckled to herself.   

“For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great…”

An Owl glided over the sky unnoticed as it emerged amongst Gillson Park. A creature of pure elegance in the backdrop of the midday scenery. His plumage, a pristine canvas of a bold white, seems to shimmer with an otherworldly luminescence, catching the last rays of the afternoon sun like a cascade of fire woven into feathers. He settled on a branch of the tree that was hovered over Y/n, as she continued to focus on the compelling words in the book. 

His large, dark eyes were fixed on her as she sat with rapt concentration. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes moved swiftly across the crisp, white pages. Her hands were holding the book motionless on the crimson red cover as if she was hesitant to disturb the stillness of the moment.

The Owl’s trance was interrupted by the barking of D/n, his heart shaped head turned to the direction of the galloping dog making its way to Y/n, who looked up from her book, set it on her lap, and petted D/n softly.

“This is a good book so far, D/n,” she said with a smile, “I appreciate its detail.” she leaned down and ruffled the dog’s fur, smothering her pet with the love and affection they deserved. 

Unbeknownst to them, the owl had been silently observing Y/n's every move from the highest branch of the nearby tree. Y/n shut the book and got up from the bench to grab D/n's leash. As Y/n closed the book and rose from the bench, the owl maintained its vigilant watch, its piercing eyes following their every step. Y/n secured D/n's leash, and the two began their stroll back towards the library's parking lot, the owl gracefully gliding from tree to tree, never losing sight of them.

Once both were in the car, the owl perched on the concrete edge of the library's roof, its keen gaze fixed on the departing car as it merged into the occupied street. 

Only when the car disappeared from view did the owl spread its feathered wings and take to the sky again, disappearing into the horizon.

[i-fondued]

Ghost | Sinners in Secret - Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three - The Prime Mover Ritual Incident Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III Rating: Explicit Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags! A/N: I AM ALIVE AHAHA, it had been a long week. I am so so SO sorry I couldn't get this out any sooner, hopefully this is worth the wait. Next chapter won't be posted till the friday after this coming friday just to give myself some extra time and buffer because working two jobs and not getting home till almost 11pm 4 nights a week is really cramping my style.

As always, this chapter is has been reviewed by my beta, @lurancyvenom whom I love!

Full Chapter List - HERE AO3 Link - HERE

Traditionally, I was told, the Prime Mover ritual was held as the sun rose so the large monastery chapel was bathed in blood red morning light. 

It had been decided that trying to organize the ritual while also waiting until I had been cleared by the healers was not going to happen, thus the ceremony and ritual had been moved from early morning to dusk. Instead of the rising sun greeting me as I rose above the ranks of Siblings and Clergymen, I was to be greeted by the twilight and bright moonlight. It was going to be a cloudless night was what Sister Imperator told me as she and the other Sisters arrived to dress me for my second to last, yet most important ritual. 

“How are you feeling, Sister?” Imperator coaxed, hand resting gently on my bare shoulder as I was allowed to soak in the heat of the bath that had been drawn for me while I tried to calm my slowly frazzling nerves. 

“Physically? Fine. Emotionally? Anxious,” I shrugged sheepishly, a small smile on my lips. “This feels like the biggest moment of my life and I’m worried I’m going to screw it up…”

“I wouldn’t worry, Cardinal Copia and Papa will be there with you, and I know you’ve practiced and drilled with Secondo for your parts.” She smiled, a warm motherly look on her face for a moment before she fought to put it away. “You’ve come into this role more than I had ever expected or ever dreamed of. You’ve blown my expectations out of the water. I’m proud to know you’ve come into your own since joining us at the Abbey.”

“T-Thank you, Sister Imperator,” I stuttered, voice thick with tears as I took her outstretched hand and squeezed it firmly. “It means a lot to me that you and everyone here had welcomed me all those years ago, I don’t think I’d ever have been this happy with a normal life…whatever normal is anyways…”

We laughed at ourselves as we wiped at the tears threatening to spill. We were two women from very different walks of life, but here we were together in Rome only hours away from myself becoming the closest thing we in the Clergy had to royalty. If anyone had told me what my life had in store for me when I took the habit, I would have laughed at them until I cried tears of disbelief. 

“Come, Sorella. Let us get you ready.” One of the sisters came over to the bath, holding her hand out to me to help me from the sunken tub. 

“Of course, thank you,” I smiled as another Sister helped wrap a towel around me and only paused slightly as her eyes floated over the large golden scar. 

I felt my cheeks heat up before she apologized under her breath and continued to help dry me off, making a point to not let her eyes drift over my chest again. The two Sisters worked together, just like every ritual before this, buffing me with various abrasive cloths, and massaging my body with both fragrance and ritual oils. I could tell they were both mumbling something in Latin as they worked, but what they were chanting I couldn’t decipher. Once all of the various oils and creams laid out on the countertop were fully rubbed in, both women helped me into an enormous silk robe and tied the belt snugly around my waist.

“Time to eat something, Sister. You will need your strength for this long night,” one Sibling said, bowing to me as they led me from my bathroom to a table by the fireplace. 

I looked around my bedroom, half hoping to see either Copia or Terzo, but they had long since been kicked out while I was getting ready. Only Swiss was here, sitting in the wingback chairs with our lunch on the table near him. Imperator was in the other corner of the room with two other Sisters who were rushing to set up the many, many, many layers of fabric that would eventually be helped onto my frame. My eyes widened a fraction and panic nipped at my heels as I thought about just how heavy the final garment would be. Behind the three women, on top of a dresser by the window were the layers of veils and several crowns and hairpins that would be added in the end. 

“Sunshine, stop freaking out. I can feel it in my balls,” Swiss laughed, teasing me knowing it would pull my attention away from the anticipation of the evening. 

“Gross, Swiss…I didn’t need to know that,” I laughed, the silk of my robe swishing against the ground as I walked over and sat down with him. 

My mouth was watering as I saw the spread in front of me; a plate of chicken, roasted vegetables, and yellow rice. I tried to not inhale it, but before I could help myself I was already halfway done with the meal as Swiss chatted with me about the day and how my lovers were waiting for me. 

“They both are anxious about seeing you, but they are also having to go through formal preparation.” 

“Preparations?” I asked, staring at him quizzically. 

“What? Did you think only you have to get greased up and wear about a hundred layers and pounds of fabric?” He laughed and I flicked a roasted tomato at him. 

“You are feisty today, did you sleep too much?” 

“I slept like a baby, thank you very much.”

We chatted and laughed, a part of me so relieved that there wasn’t any tension between Swiss and I. Especially with everything that had happened because of Veritas. Once I managed to eat everything on my plate, sip on the glass of water that had been left for me, and relax a little again, I found Sister Imperator coming over to collect me. 

“It’s just about time, my dear. Are you ready?” 

“Let’s do this.”

…

I felt like a Russian princess as I stood in front of the three mirrors set up to be able to see my gown from every angle. It had taken the better part of an hour to get me dressed and ready, that didn’t even include my various veils and crowns that had yet to be put on.

They started with a simple linen chemise that settled off my shoulders, then helped me into stockings that were tied tightly at the knee so they wouldn’t slip down and a pair of simple leather flats. Next was a Victorian style corset, cinching my waist in small but giving me support for the next few layers of the heavy gown. Over that was a thin linen petticoat and then a bustle cage to support the skirts and smooth out the bustle and train of the dress. 

Two of the Sisters helped me guide the underskirt over my head. Made of white silk taffeta, it had a strip of buttons from the skirt up into a strip that would eventually be fixed to my bodice. On either side of the buttons was the most extravagant gold embroidery, all hand stitched and meticulously mirrored on either side. Among the swirling patterns of vines and leaves were many symbols for fertility, good fortune, and piety; all were worked along with the grucifix and crest of the Emeritus family that were sewn by hand into the silk.

The overdress, which was open like a robe, was part skirt and part bodice. It took all four of the Sisters to help me into this outfit. The open skirt was put into place first by hook and eye closures at my cinched waist, then the bodice was slipped over my arms and I watched as the four women worked together to settle the heavy velvet fabric of the overskirt and attach the strip of buttons up the front closure. The bodice had a low neckline, sweeping across my bust, and settled right on the very edge of my shoulders; the edge just barely visible was a soft ruffle of lace. It also had long open, hanging sleeves that reminded me of the style that elves wore in fantasy movies. 

Mimicking the design of the two skirts, the bodice was split with a white section down the middle to match the underskirt, with both the gold embroidery and strip of buttons. The red section copied the look of the overskirt with gold piping along the faux edge and even more of the intricate embroidery. The red velvet overdress had a long sweeping train, and all along the edges of the skirts were more golden stitches. In the center of the train was my own personal monogram seal that came with my ascension. Completely absorbed in taking in my reflection, a hand gently settling on my bare shoulder startled me.

“We leave in five minutes, Your Eminence,” one of the Sisters spoke softly behind me as I stood, completely absorbed and overwhelmed by how I was dressed. 

“Y-Yes, thank you Sister,” I stuttered, looking back at my make-up as the other Siblings gathered to help put on the final layers of veils before our departure.

They had kept my hair mostly simple due to the coming veils and headdresses, a low and windswept bun at the nape of my neck, but my makeup was what stood out the most. My skin was dewy, my lips soft and pink. It was my eyes that had been done up dramatically. The Sisters had made my eyes look both bright and sultry with rouge eyeshadow; trailing from my eyes and down my cheeks were droplets of golden ichor, several large teardrops hanging in suspension on my cheeks. Leaning in slightly to check my reflection I smiled softly as I could see Swiss in the reflection of the mirror, leaning against the wall casually. 

“You’ll be fine, Sunshine,” he chuckled, winking through the silver of his mask. I gave him a slight nod and couldn’t help the heavy sigh that slipped from my lips. 

“I know, I know,” I laughed as I turned to him, the soft sound of layers of satin and velvet swishing as I turned back and forth towards him. “What do you think? I clean up nice, right?”

“You look like a princess.” He chuckled, he was also dressed in full finery. “A Princess of surprisingly not Italian origin, considering where we are…”

“They tried to get me to wear another antique dress from the renaissance and I fought with Sister Imperator until we agreed on a reproduction gown. I much prefer the grandeur of the Romanovs myself…” I rolled my eyes but smiled at Swiss as the Sisters came back in with Imperator right behind them. 

“Time for the finishing touches, Sister,” Imperator smiled brightly, gesturing to the veils waiting for me on the bed. “Sister Maja will carry the final veil, as that will be put in place during your ritual. Sister Ester will carry the headdress, and Sister Lenora will carry your final dress. Everything else we’ll need to place now.”

The first veil was a white lace that came to just barely brush against my bare upper arms, the thin gossamer material light enough to flutter as the Sisters milled about me while they pinned it in place. The second one was slightly shorter and was made in the same style but in gold threads. Both were pinned to just barely dust against my forehead and over that was the heaviest of the items I was expected to wear. Draped over my head slowly, as to not pull the light lace veils out of place, was a heavy veil made of royal blue silk. 

The edge was scalloped and piped with gold along with the same matching golden embroidery everything else I was wearing was covered in. The hem stopped just shy of dusting the floor and flowed outward with the skirts of my dress. It was enormous and I already felt weighed down by both the veil and the heavy velvet dress, however the final step was to add a gold, diamond encrusted diadem in the style of a saintly halo to hold everything in place. 

Imperator clapped, gaining everyone's attention from fawning over my dress before we followed each other out of the room. “Alright, we're going to be cutting it close. Let’s go ladies.”

I couldn’t help but find it wasteful to go through all this effort for things that would be removed in the end. It was part of the ceremony of this transformation, of leaving my secular world behind in a haze of incense and ritual for my mortal form to ascend to another higher being.

Or at least that was what Secondo said the ritual was about.

As Swiss took my arm, guiding me out of the Papal suites and down dusky hallways towards the massive Monastery chapel, I felt my anxiety really creep up. The hallways were almost completely empty, most people having already made their way inside the space as we lined up and waited for our cue to enter. I could hear the sound of the organ playing and my palms began to sweat. 

“Sunshine…?” Swiss whispered to me, concern obvious in his voice. “Do you need me to help you make a break for it? I think I can carry you even with the forty pounds of fabric you’re wearing.”

“No, I’m okay,” I laughed. “I can do this.” I smiled warmly, though I know I didn’t reach my eyes. “I can, right?”

“You are our Prime Mover, Lucifer sent you himself to not only shepard us but to become the Mama to our Papa and the Cardinal. If there is anyone who could do it, it would be you.”

“Thank you, Swiss.” 

Without another word, the large wooden doors opened and the procession started. I watched as the Sisters headed towards the altar, the chapel already full and people standing against the walls to get even just a glimpse of this momentous moment in my own life, let alone theirs. Vaguely I registered music and a chorus singing, but I was too busy looking at the altar to notice even the fine decoration adorning the space. Swiss was the only thing keeping me grounded as we made our way slowly to the altar, and I took in the sight of Terzo and Copia in their finery. 

Terzo was dressed in his purple lined chasuble, however over that was a long black cape, clipped with gold chains over his heart, with purple accents and gold embroidery. He also wore a stole, draped around his neck and adorned with the same golden filigree motif as my own dress. The skirts of the cape trailed behind him slightly as he walked up to the altar, his arms raised and his head bowed in my direction, a small smirk barely contained. On his head he wore his normal Papal mitre, long black strips trailing down his back, and black leather gloves with golden nail tips. Terzo’s Papal paints were done so sharply I know it had taken him twice as long as normal. When he winked at me I bit my bottom lip and let my eyes drift away from him to the other man with him.

Copia was standing slightly to the side, but he looked no less spectacular than Terzo. The Cardinal was wearing his choir dress, the highest of formal robes in our organization, in his signature deep red color. However, instead of the stiff wool cassocks I was so used to seeing him in, he was wearing one made of the finest silk. He too had a small train coming from the floor length silk cassock, over which he wore a white alb with a wide lace trim. A red capelet was worn over that, the hem just barely dusting against the crook of his elbows as his hands were pressed together with a grucifix dangling between them. 

Instead of his biretta, he wore a red galero. It was a wide brimmed hat with tassels hanging down from either side. His makeup was done as always, not a spot smudged or line wobbled, he looked ethereal and almost otherworldly in the shadow of his enormous brim. I felt myself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, like a sinner to the darkness. But when I thought I had been transfixed beyond anything, he met my eyes and I watched him swallow hard, stumbling slightly over the prayer he was whispering like a secret. 

I felt my heart in my throat knowing that this moment was what we three had been waiting for. I smiled at both of them, unable to hold back my joy any longer, as Swiss helped me up the stairs of the first level of the altar in my heavy dress. I held his arm as I settled to kneel on the pillow waiting for me on the floor, looking up at Terzo who was staring at me like I was the only woman in the entire world. His eyes were filled with a swirling of so many emotions it made me dizzy; my heart thrumming away in my chest as I held my hands together tightly in prayer with the grucifix dangling between my fingers. This was to be the longest of the rituals by far, at least till the binding ritual the next day, and a part of me was worried about kneeling for as long as I had to.

“Welcome, my flock, to this momentous occasion,” Terzo’s voice boomed out over the chapel, and suddenly the space was so quiet I could hear my heavy anxious breathing. It hadn’t even dawn on me when the music and choir had stopped. “It is today of all feast days that we are gathered to watch one of our own rise above to a higher calling.”

He moved from behind the altar as he spoke, coming to stand directly in front of me on the next altar level. He reached out and I felt his hand cup my cheek. I let him tilt my head up to look right at him. Terzo was backlit by the setting sunlight filtering in from the stained glass windows. He looked like sin itself, a wry smirk on his face as I gasped slightly and felt my cheeks flush at the heat in his eyes. 

“Sorella has been chosen, she has been sent by Lucifero himself, to ascend. She is to become il Primo Motore, the Prime Mover. No higher honor is offered to another than to become the paramour of an Emeritus, to continue our flock in our celebration and dedication to follow the teachings of our Dark Savior.” 

Terzo’s voice was hypnotic, his mismatched eyes were locked with mine, curiously drawing me in like a frantic cry of pleasure in the dead of night. His hand on my cheek was warm even through the leather of the gloves, and when he pulled away I had to fight my instinct to follow his touch with a barely audible whimper.

“But this is not just about Sorella becoming the vessel for the seeds of the next Papa, no? This rituale to bind the followers of Papa to his most arduous and steadfast confidante. For who would Papa be without he beloved, hm?” Terzo’s eyes were so filled with heat and, dare I say, love that my face felt like it was engulfed in flames. I was panting faintly, attempting not to squirm as he refused to look away from me as he spoke. 

“Join me in the first of our readings, si?”

As Terzo spoke, reading a passage from our dark texts, I continued with my eyes downcast as I was supposed to be showcasing my piety and service to Lucifer. I mumbled the Dark Lord’s Prayer under my breath, my eyes trying to focus on my trembling hands as we made slow progression towards the next part of the ritual that I’d be expected to participate in. As Terzo’s reading came to a close he came to stand in front of me again, hand resting gently on top of my veiled head. 

“You are doing wonderfully, amore,” he whispered as the chapel was let into song by the choir, a slow sultry song of thanks for blessing our flock with a Prime Mover to guide and shepard the Siblings as a mother figure. “Cardinale and I are so proud of you…”

“Thanks, Terzo,” I whispered back, biting my bottom lip and trying to not crack a smile. 

“Benedici questa Sorella, portala nel tuo amorevole abbraccio e mostrale la via delle tenebre…” Bless this Sorella, bring her into your loving embrace and show her the way of the darkness… Terzo called out, his own head bent in prayer. It felt silly to ask for protection from Lucifer all things considered over the last few weeks. “Consentile di seguire le orme di Lilith, lascia che diventi tutt'uno con il peccato originale e si elevi per essere degna della tua devozione.” Allow her to follow in Lilith's footsteps, let her become one with original sin and rise to be worthy of your devotion.

I could see Copia out of the corner of my eye, as he moved to bring over the next steps of the ritual for Terzo. He was carrying a chalice, filled with a deep red wine, and a plate with the unholy sacrament. Copia’s eyes locked on mine and he smiled softly, winking when Terzo turned to take the plate from him. 

Ti amo, he mouthed and I smiled up at him before mouthing the words back to him. When Terzo spoke, my attention was drawn back to him, looking up with a warmth in my chest I felt I hadn’t felt in weeks. 

“I offer this body and blood, the symbols of our Unholy Father, to you Sorella. Will you partake?”

“I shall, willingly,” I responded, opening my mouth and sliding my tongue out slightly, my hands still pressed together and clutching the grucifix between them. 

I could see the way the position and image had already started to affect Terzo, who had to clear his throat as he pressed the wafer to my tongue slightly more aggressively than necessary. After looking up at him through my lashes, I felt him hold the goblet to my mouth and tilted the wine into my parted lips. My mind instantly flooded back to the time that Terzo spit the wine in my mouth and I had to fight to keep myself from squirming; though I was sure his smirking face was because he noticed the blush on my cheeks. 

Terzo moved away from me then, placing both the plate and chalice back on the altar as I stayed kneeling. Copia stood just to the side, repeating a hymn under his breath as he watched me before remembering that he too had a part to play in this. Jumping slightly as Terzo cleared his throat, he shuffled forward and grabbed the small plate of apple slices. He walked up to me, heat in his eyes clear as he looked down at me. With his free hand Copia mirrored Terzo’s earlier move and reached out to cup my cheek. I couldn’t help but nuzzle against him as well, a content look on my face. Copia smiled before he cleared his throat before speaking.

“Like the first Prime Mover many generations ago, I offer you this apple as a symbol of man’s original fall from grace. Will you accept this knowledge, Sorella?” he asked, voice smooth and sultry as he subtly ran the pad of his leather gloved thumb against my bottom lip. It took me a minute to register that I needed to respond to him. 

“I shall, hungrily,” I spoke, voice thick with desire as I watched Copia pick up a slice and press the tip against my lips. His eyes practically begging for entrance as I let him slip the slice between my parted lips. 

His eyes were locked on my mouth as I chewed the offered slice and looked up with large, doe-like eyes before he bowed his head to me and took a few steps back. Terzo was there again, as he was to lead the ritual, and smiled at us both. 

“Who offers this woman up to her fall from the pinnacle?” he asked. We all knew I had no family in the church to speak of, so we went with the next logical answer. Swiss took the steps up to his spot next to me quickly and I could see him from the corner of my eye. 

“I shall offer the lamb to the wolf,” Swiss replied, bowing down to one knee. “Let her serve the Dark One’s will, from the pinnacle to the pit.”

“From the pinnacle to the pit,” was the response from the congregation behind me and I couldn’t help but blush slightly. 

“Then you must help this woman shed her earthly confines in favor of her robes fit for her station.”

That was the cue. Suddenly the Sisters from earlier in the day were there and helping me to my feet, Swiss holding out his hand to help me as I stood. What I didn’t know until this moment, I’m sure something Imperator left out conveniently, was that I was not to be moved to the back alcove to change and emerge like a broadway quick-change. No. I was to be stripped where I was standing and it didn’t occur to me till I saw the Siblings bringing over my dress. 

“Tricky bitch…” I mumbled as Swiss fought to hold back the laughter I heard him struggling with under his mask as the ritual mass carried on around us. 

Both Terzo and, surprisingly, Copia were leading the congregation in a lovely angelic hymn. I could hear Terzo’s voice, clear as a bell, but it was Copia that shocked me enough to make me pause. I hadn’t heard him sing like this before, at least not loud enough to really notice how beautiful his voice was. I felt Swiss tug on the diadem on my head to get my attention and I focused back on the task at hand. 

The Sisters helped take off the diadem and veils, and had begun to unbutton the heavy velvet of the bodice before I had even taken a breath. Before I knew it I was standing in nothing but the thin linen chemise that had been my base layer, even the corset was gone. As the hymn came to a close, Terzo began to speak again. 

“Lucifer, we beseech you. Protect this woman, your vessel on this plane, as she prepares to ascend to a higher cause.”

The linen material was pulled over my head and I was momentarily nude before the Sisters began to dress me in my official formal Prime Mover robes. I had helped design the garment myself, and after finally seeing them put together I realized that, subconsciously, I had designed the same thing I’d worn in my shared dream with Copia. The black, high neckline and skin tight dress fit like a glove. Even the golden cutout where the grucifix sat over my cleavage was included. 

Next was my belt, embroidered with Prime Mover and my seal at the bottom. Much like the previous dress I had on, there was more gold embroidery along the hem and in the center of the small train was the grucifix again. All of the embroidery was accented by shining and shimmering beads and stonework. Quickly black leather gloves were slipped onto my hands, they had golden nails on the fingertips as a nod to Terzo’s own pair. After the dress was finished being buttoned up the back, Swiss helped me kneel again before moving to stand a few steps below me.

“Almighty below, I bestow this woman with my life blood as she will bring forth the blood of my blood; thus the continuation of the line of Emeritus begins anew.” Terzo’s voice was clear, echoing in the marble walls of the abbey as he raised his hand high and sliced his palm. 

I watched while mumbling along with the prayers around me, transfixed as he let several drops of blood into the open clay pot of black grease paints sitting on the altar. Speaking in Italian, Terzo offered prayers to Lucifer as he mixed the blood with the cream. 

“Tuere eam, dux eius, eam fortis.” Protect her, guide her, make her strong. 

”Pro hoc offero sanguinem meum in sacrificium.” For this I offer my blood as a sacrifice.

Terzo came to stand in front of me again, holding the pot of grease paints in on hand and a brush in the other. Copia came over and took the pot from him and nodded solemnly at him as Terzo cupped my chin and tilted my head in the direction he needed. 

“Trust me, Amore?” He asked, a devilish smile on his face and I couldn’t help but smile right back at him. 

“Always.”

“Then close your eyes, eh?”

I held back my laughter, closing my eyes and attempting to keep very still as Terzo began to chant in Latin again. I felt the brush, with paints slightly cool, sliding across my skin as Terzo worked quickly and smoothly. His hands had memorized this after so many years, though he was only working with black for the purpose of this ritual. 

After a few minutes, he pulled away and I peaked an eye open to see him holding out a mirror for me. 

“What do you think, hm?” He whispered, suddenly looking shy. “Cardinale and I worked together to come up with the design.”

My cheekbones had been hollowed out with the paints, much like Terzo’s paints though my edges had been brought to my hair line. My eyes had been hollowed out, making my eyes shine brightly, between the black spots. My upper lip had been painted much like Copia and there was two small swipes made to the bridge of my nose as well. I looked up at Terzo, suddenly my throat was thick and full of emotion as he smiled brightly. 

“Let these paints be a sign to all who see you, Sorella, that you are now and forever more a part of the Emeritus clan.”

“Hallowed be thy name.” was the response from the crowd behind me. 

“Does the clergy sanction this ascension?” Terzo turned to ask Copia and I had to hold back a gasp at the intense look in Copia’s eyes as he kept his gaze locked on mine. 

“We, the Clergy, are in full support of this decision.”

The sisters who’d helped me the last week, bathed and dressed me like I was their own, and finally had carried down my veil and headdress were now standing with Copia and Terzo. They both had their heads bowed in my direction as they handed the items to both of them in perfect sync. Copia took hold of the veil I’d be expected to wear for semi-formal and above events, with the exception of any events taking place around ‘worldly’ folks. 

It was a long circular shape, though it did have quite a long train. It was made with black fine netting and all along the edge was more matching golden lace. The veil was a drop-veil style, cathedral length and settled far past the train for the dress. The Sisters helped bring the veil up behind me as it settled neatly against my dress and the floor. Copia slowly flicked and fluttered the gossamer fabric over my head, the front covered my face entirely and draped down to my elbows. 

Copia placed his hand on top of my head, causing me to look down at his feet and my slightly trembling hands. He spoke softly under his breath, but I could still hear him. 

“Lucifero, grazie per aver portato questa donna nelle nostre vite. Non so dove sarei senza di lei.” Lucifer, thank you for bringing this woman into our lives. I don't know where I would be without her. I could hear the heavy emotion in Copia’s voice, causing tears to threaten to ruin my makeup. 

Before I could do anything to bring him comfort, the weight of Copia’s hand was gone and I looked up only to see him take a few steps back and allow Terzo to step in front of me. In his hands he held the symbol of my station. My halo style crown, it looked more like a piece of saintly artwork than a crown. Made of a large golden circle; it was made to look like I had a saint’s halo, like all the paintings and frescoes all over the monastery halls, and was covered in filagree and gemstones. I felt like my neck was going to get a cramp just from the short time I would have this on my head. 

Terzo perched the heavy diedem on the crown of my head, the sisters with him working quickly to pin it to my head in four places to make sure I’d be able to move and not knock it loose. As he placed it, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I looked at him with a curious expression but he just smiled warmly and cupped my cheeks through the veil. 

“You have done so, so well, Tesoro…” He whispered and I fought the giggle that wanted to spill from my lips. 

“Thank you.” I smiled and I watched as he winked at me before begrudgingly pulling away. 

Terzo took a few steps back and threw his arms wide. 

“Rise, Prime Mover.” He called out, only the sound of the organ accompanying him. “Rise and gaze upon your flock.”

Both Terzo and Copia offered me a hand, graciously I took them as I stood up and turned to look at the large chapel behind us. I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I took in the sight around me. Everyone in the chapel, including the Emeritus family and the ghouls, was kneeling before me. A thrill at the idea of power, of the control I was given in this position, slithered up my spine. Deep down, I knew I would never ever abuse my powers I’d been given but the idea that all of these people would do as I said or even commanded made me momentarily drunk with power. 

I turned back around to peek at my boys and I gasped quietly. Both were kneeling, their heads bowed, as they spoke the final prayers in latin. When they looked back up with me, practically synchronized in their movements, I was momentarily shocked at the heat and lust in their eyes. 

Terzo was the first to stand, offering Copia a hand to join him. When they were both standing again Terzo stepped forward and took my hand, having me turn again to face the crowd. 

“All hail Prime Mover Elizabeth Lucia Emeritus, the First of her name.”

I will never forget for as long as I live the sound of the thunderous applause and resounding ‘Long may she reign.’

[dilf-din]

Yeehawgust Day 14: Dripping Fangs

TLOU Western AU

WC: 965

Rating: T

Characters: Joel, Ellie, Tess

Warnings: language, light violence

A/N: this one feels the most true to the original storyline. I’m a sucker for an old man and a orphan, what can I say

Dirt under hoofbeats, hot sun on skin. Joel had taken this route dozens of times. He could navigate it blindfolded. The trail was well off the main road, but far enough from the wilderness to be mostly safe from raiders. People out here usually thought twice before fucking with them. He and Tess had made a name for themselves in this corner of the world. They had put lead in enough people trying to cross (or double cross) them, that anyone not from out of town gave them their rightful distance when they saw the pair riding through.

His bark was worse than his bite. But Tess? She was all teeth. The last time Robert tried to pull something on them, he ended up with three fewer men and one less kneecap than he had started the day with. Joel just watched it happen.

He and Tess had smuggled a lot of things in their day, but never a kid. He had been completely caught off guard by Marlene’s request, but the promise for payout sure was pretty. So he gritted his teeth and got to work.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Tess had asked in a low voice before they left, arm steadying his and holding him in place.

Joel nodded curtly, “Let’s just get this over with.”

His heart pounded in his ears as he led their small party through the twists and turns of the path. He could hear the girl and Tess chatting just out of earshot behind him. His eyes were trained ahead, scanning the overhanging cliffs for anyone brazen enough to try and get the jump on them.

The ringing in his ears finally subsided a bit allowing him to tune in to the conversation.

“How much further?” the girl, Ellie, had asked.

The sun was starting to set meaning they would need to make camp soon.

“‘Bout fifteen more minutes till we reach the other side of this canyon. There’s a little cliffside we use a lot as a resting point just beyond there,” he had answered over his shoulder.

There was some hesitation before Ellie asked in a small voice, “We’ll be safe, right?”

Joel had to swallow down the lump in his throat before it tried to make a permanent home there. “This is just a job,” he kept telling himself.

“Yeah, we’ll be safe,” he said in a voice much calmer than the knot in his stomach was indicative of. He took a deep inhale of the dry air and continued on. Just a few days and it’d be back to just him and Tess.

The trio reached their campsite just as dusk was settling down on the horizon, masking the red clay of the cliffs under a deep blanket of grey. They ate a quiet meal, passing a canteen of water between the three of them to wash down the dry meat and stale bread. Ellie’s bedroll was set up between the two of them against the cool, clay wall giving her the brunt of the heat from the fire and a loaded gun on either side of her.

Joel and Tess were discussing the next few days’ travel in a hushed tone. They were both sitting on Joel’s thin blanket, knees touching, turned into each other as they talked. They left in such a hurry that afternoon that they didn’t really get a chance to plan ahead. The whole day was composed of split second decisions and gut instincts, each trusting the other to make calls that would lead to safety and secrecy. Ellie had wandered to the other side of the fire, a lone scorpion catching her eye just outside of the reach of the flickering light. The scorpion was scuttling back and forth in the dancing orange light, drawn to the fire but cautious of the creatures who made it. She had picked a stick out of the wood pile and was lightly teasing it, tracing lines in the dust for it to chase while it snapped at the end of the branch. She giggled a little, enjoying their little game when an unfamiliar sound rose from just beyond the navy shadows in front of her.

“What the fuck?” she said quietly, inching backwards from what sounded like a whole family of cicadas chirping and shaking at once.

“Joel!” Tess screamed, and in an instant he raised his revolver and fired a single shot. The head of a rattlesnake fell to the ground with a thud while its detached body writhed in the dirt. It had been poised to strike, rising to its full height when Joel saw it approaching the girl. Ellie stumbled backwards until she was pressed against the wall next to Joel, her breaths coming short and fast.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Joel said softly enough that no one but him could detect the tremor in his voice.

Ellie’s shoulder was pressed up against his, brown eyes as big as a calf’s boring into his own in half panic half thanks.

“You’re safe, kiddo. Just stay on this side of the fire from now on,” his voice coated in gentleness. Ellie was taken aback at the lack of disappointment in his tone. She was used to getting yelled at when things went wrong. She nodded, sinking down to a sitting position next to him and letting out a shaky exhale.

“Nice shot, Texas,” Tess smirked.

The two fell back into conversation, and Ellie couldn’t help but hope that their journey lasted longer than the few planned days. She had never been in the company of an adult that she felt like gave a shit about her, much less two. As long as she was next to them, she was safe. And more than that, she was happy.

Taglist: @ellliemilller

[marzbix-crystal]

The Big OC Post

ALRIGHT SO. Here is THE post containing ALL my Land of the Lustrous OCs, even when my art evolves into something else, these will be THE ref sheets I look at (hopefully) 'till the end of time- I did double check them all, but there may still be a few spelling mistakes and repetition, apologies in advance

[Image ID: A series of reference sheets for my Land of the Lustrous fan OCs. Each image contains the following: A full body drawing on the far right, a drawing of their eye in the top centre, their chosen flower below that, and a profile headshot in the bottom centre, on the left is their written information along with a colour palette. /End ID]

WRITTEN VERSIONS WILL BE BELOW THEIR RESPECTIVE IMAGE- APOLOGIES FOR ANY CONFUSION WITH THE LAYOUT --------------------

Name: Afghanite Pronouns: They/Them Age: 2624 years old Mohs Hardness: 6 Height: 5'11 Appearance: They have a somewhat athletic build, their face is angular with a pointed nose, rectangular eyes, and medium brows. Their hair is in a high ponytail that reaches the middle of their back, with symmetrical bangs that flick towards the back of the head, and flicks of hair that reach their cheeks, covering their ears. They wear a summer uniform with a shirt, tie, bermuda shorts, and strapped loafers. They have ankle socks. Assigned Flower: Daffodil

Character Notes: - Stoic and Hardworking - They rarely smile, and no one has ever made or seen them laugh - They often disappear when off-duty - They always show up on time no matter what

Nicknames: "Afgha" or "Han" Job: Mediator/Caretaker Likes: Hiking, Tracking, Birds, Writing Lists, and Mysteries Dislikes: Flies, Dirty Clothes, Recklessness, and Disrespect --------------------

Name: Black Opal Pronouns: They/Them Age: 679 years old Mohs Hardness: 6.5 Height: 5'5 Appearance: They are petite with a round face and a soft button nose, their eyes are rectangular with thick angular brows. Their hair is tied in a high ponytail reaching the middle of their back and flicking upwards at the ends, they have tucked bangs and long strands covering their ears and falling past their chest. They wear the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, short-shorts, and flat shoes with bows on the toplines. They have opera gloves and thigh-high socks. Assigned Flower: Hybrid Fuchsia

Character Notes: - They can be terribly cruel to others - Not afraid of dirt, surprisingly - They're slowly changing their attitude through counselling - They have a lot of stims, but they never stim in front of others

Nicknames: "Opal" or "Bee" Job: Courier Likes: Puddles, Riddles, Slow days, and Dusk Dislikes: Social Interaction, Small Talk, Cramped Spaces, and Sunny Days Extra Notes: Drawn with no eye highlights, any rainbow particle brush can be used for their hair/eyes/gem --------------------

Name: Blue Diamond Pronouns: They/Them Age: 5923 years old Mohs Hardness: 10 Height: 6'5 Appearance: They have a skinny/lanky build with a thin, angular face, and a long, straight nose- their eyes are angular with dark circles, indents near the inner corners, and long, thin brows. Their hair is long and fluffy, reaching their lower back with strands sticking out at all sides, they have messy bangs covering their brows with horn-like flicks on either side, they have curls covering their ears and some hair partially resting on their shoulders and flowing behind them- they have a small flick of hair on the top of their head. They are wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves and short-shorts, instead of a tie they have their shirt open at the collar showing some of their chest. They have opera gloves, thigh-high socks, and a plain ribbon tied around their left calf. Assigned Flower: Red Rose

Character Notes: - They own multiple different weapons, but they only use two of them - They practice poses when no one is around - They used to be a Mediator - Extremely knowledgeable on metals and gem make-up

Nicknames: "Blue" Job: Explorer/Unemployed Likes: Precious Metals, Sunsets, Crunchy Leaves, Loitering, and Fencing Dislikes: Wet Grass, Being Touched, Danger, and Taking Orders Extra Notes: Has a ribbon tied around their leg as a member of the Delinquents --------------------

Name: Brookite Pronouns: They/She Age: 578 years old Mohs Hardness: 5.5 Height: 5'3 Appearance: They have a thicker build with a round face and a small pointed nose, their eyes are rounded with three lower lashes and thin brows. Their hair is tied in a right-side ponytail with the hair sticking out, they have large bangs with one strand falling in front of their face, and extra hair covering the front of their ears and reaching the chin. She is wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, a knee-length skirt, and flat, double strapped mary-jane shoes. They have shorter gloves and tights. Assigned Flower: Anemone

Character Notes: - They take in more sunlight than most, so they're high energy - She makes little wooden carvings for her friends - They love Moths most of all - They like carpentry, but she's unsure if that's what they want to do

Nicknames: "Brooke" or "Cookie" Job: Apprentice Carpenter Likes: Insects/Entomology, Card Games, Pinecones, and Wood Carving Dislikes: Fungi, Nonsense, Complex Instructions, and Deadlines --------------------

Name: Calcite Pronouns: They/He Age: 290 years old Mohs Hardness: 3 Height: 6'3 Appearance: They have a very thin build with an angular face and a smaller pointed nose, their eyes are large and round with small, circular brows. His hair is tied back into a high ponytail with the hair sticking out behind them, he has hair coming in front of his ears, and some hair falling in front of their face. They wear the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, short-shorts, and loafers. They wear opera gloves and ankle-socks. Assigned Flower: Poinsettia

Character Notes: - They rarely speak, and if they do, it's only in whispers - Has an interest in flowers - They can be very intense when writing notes - He often lets others style his hair

Nicknames: "Cal" Job: Dioptase's Assistant Likes: Doodling, Tiny Flowers, Listening to Stories, and Snails Dislikes: Loud Noises, Being Babied, Beetles, and Running --------------------

Name: Citrine Pronouns: He/Him Age: 950 years old Mohs Hardness: 7 Height: 5'11 Appearance: He has a somewhat athletic build, an sturdy face, and a straight, prominent nose- his eyes are angular with short, thick brows. His hair is pinned back with a head band, with a loose part falling over his left eye, while the rest of his hair sticks out around his head like a halo. He wears a summer uniform with a shirt, tie, short-shorts, and flat shoes. He wears very loose socks that give the appearance of leg-warmers, reaching his knees. Assigned Flower: Sunflower

Character Notes: - Very rarely unhappy, but he copes well with negative feelings - He's almost constantly moving - Despite how he acts, he's fairly mature (to some extent) - Whenever he goes to any beach, an army of crabs harasses him

Nicknames: "Sun" or "Sunela" Job: Explorer/Protector Likes: Sunshine, Autumn Colours, Fencing, Card Games, and Windsurfing Dislikes: Gloomy Weather, Getting Scolded, Crabs, Silence, and Dishonesty --------------------

Name: Clinohumite Pronouns: They/She Age: 2436 years old Mohs Hardness: 6 Height: 6'11 Appearance: They have a large, muscular build, with a longer, more sturdy face and a large, straight nose- their eyes are rectangular with thick eyelashes and much thicker brows. Her hair is long and messy with bangs covering her left eye, they have almost a crown of hair along the top of the head, they have hair falling over their shoulders while the rest reaches her behind. They are wearing a summer uniform with a shirt, tie, bermuda shorts, and flat shoes. They have knee socks. Assigned Flower: Stargazer Lily

Character Notes: - They always laugh at unfunny jokes - No one knows why they're so big, some think she was supposed to be a set of twins - Very quiet, but they can shout the loudest - They often appear out of no where, startling others

Nicknames: "Clino" or "Humi" Job: Mediator Likes: The Beach, Warm Days, Sea Shells, and Peace and Quiet Dislikes: Thunderstorms, Small Talk, Using Force, and Wasting Time --------------------

Name: Dioptase Pronouns: They/Them Age: 783 years old Mohs Hardness: 5 Height: 5'6 Appearance: They have a much larger build with broader shoulders and larger tummy, they have a round face with a larger button nose, their eyes are round with several extra lashes and large, pill-shaped brows. Their hair is sort of a wolf cut, with bangs that partially cover the right eye and cover the top of their ears, the hair is chin-length, curling up at the back in two tiers, with longer strands falling over their shoulders- they have two smaller hairs sprouting on the top of their head. They are wearing a summer uniform with a shirt, bermuda shorts, and flat shoes. Assigned Flower: Marigold

Character Notes: - They're surprisingly petty - They have a collection of stones with holes in, they call them "Looking Stones" - They can work just about anywhere - Their disappointment is so much worse than their anger

Nicknames: "Dio" or "Opti" Job: Scholar/Paper Maker Likes: Clear Skies, Storytelling, Writing Fiction, Dragonflies, and Dancing Dislikes: Writer's Block, Disorganized Mess, Scolding Others, and Loneliness --------------------

Name: Erythrite Pronouns: They/He Age: 573 years old Mohs Hardness: 2 Height: 5'0 Appearance: They have a slim/petite build with an angular face and a pointed nose- their eyes are angular with thicker, furrowed brows. His hair is short with the ends flicking outwards, and a single strand falling in the middle of his face. They are wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, short-shorts, and flat mary-jane shoes. They have white knee socks and a small satchel attached to the left side of their belt. Assigned Flower: Periwinkle

Character Notes: - They have used so much paper that the Paper Makers put him on a monthly limit - Often runs around the school for seemingly no reason - Their face will sometimes crack if they're experiencing intense emotions - He's always the one to say "I told you so"

Nicknames: "Ery" or "Eryth" Job: Artist/Painter Likes: Shooting Stars, Cool/Cold Colours, Designing Things, and Most Games Dislikes: Being Ignored, Being Startles, Ruined Work, and Annoying Sounds Extra Notes: Has a little satchel on his belt --------------------

Name: Kutnohorite Pronouns: She/Her Age: 1053 years old Mohs Hardness: 4 Height: 5'8 (6'0 when wearing her heels) Appearance: She has a slightly thicker build, her face is round with a softer nose- her eyes are angular and slightly droopy with three extra lashes and medium-thin brows. Her hair is straight and tied into a high ponytail that reaches her neck, with full bangs covering her brows and two strands on both sides covering her ears and just reaching her collarbone. She wears a summer uniform with a shirt, tie, suspenders, short-shorts, and 2-inch heels. She has opera gloves, and over-the-knee socks. Assigned Flower: Daisy

Character Notes: - She has a list of napping spots, all rated and reviewed - The easiest gem to get along with - Despite her sleeping habits, all of her chores are done before sunset - She has assigned a flower to everyone, only she knows about this

Nicknames: "Ku" Job: Gardener/Scholar Likes: "Ugly" Flowers, Sleeping, Decorating, First Days of Spring, and Word Puzzles Dislikes: Sand, Losing Things, Misinformation/Drama, and Busy-Bodies --------------------

Name: Labradorite Pronouns: She/They/He Age: 6744 years old Mohs Hardness: 6.5 Height: 6'0 Appearance: She has a thinner build with a rounded face and a long pointed nose- their eyes are rectangular with thick eyelashes, eyebags, and medium brows, their right eye has flashes of blue, whereas their left eye has greenish brown flashes. He has messy hair with the right side tied at the back in a short ponytail and the left covering the left of their face- the rest of their hair falls behind their shoulders. She is wearing a three-piece suit and tie with a longer coat and dress-shoes. Assigned Flower: Iris

Character Notes: - Always carrying something to write on - Knows almost everything about everyone else, but she herself is very enigmatic - He studied on the Moon for a while - If not for their intellect, they'd be nothing without their determination

Nicknames: "Lab" or "Dori" Job: Teacher/Doctor Likes: Overcast Skies, Reading, Studying, and Long Walks Dislikes: Distractions, Too Much Noise, Muttering, and Rudeness Extra Notes: Their right eye is more blue, while her left eye is more greenish brown --------------------

Name: Onyx Pronouns: They/He Age: 1006 years old Mohs Hardness: 6.5 Height: 6'2 Appearance: They are slender with broad shoulders, they have an angular face with a slightly upturned nose- their eyes are round/rectangular with thin brows. His hair is short with an undercut, bangs covering his ears and forehead, and a longer strand protruding from the top of their head- his hair has varied streaks. He is wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, wide, knee-length shorts, and simple flats with ankle straps. They have opera gloves, tights, and a plain ribbon tied to their left forearm. Assigned Flower: Edelweiss

Character Notes: - Almost as fast as Yellow Diamond, a flurry of leaves follows him when he runs - They can be quite frightening during combat - Sick of being told to "Grow Up" - They are VERY Confrontational

Nicknames: "Nyx" Job: Protector Likes: Windy Days, Relaxing/Goofing Off, Racing, and Watching others Work Dislikes: Winter, Any and All Insects, Being talked down to, and Boredom Extra Notes: Has a ribbon tied around their arm as a member of the Delinquents --------------------

Name: Proustite Pronouns: He/She Age: 2977 years old Mohs Hardness: 2.5 Height: 6'6 Appearance: He has an average build with broader shoulders, he has a soft face with a long nose- her eyes are soft with eyebags and thin brows. His hair is short and tucked behind the ears, with a loose loop of hair falling in front of his right eye, a loose strand falling in front of his left eye, and a small strand sprouting from the top of her head. She is wearing a summer uniform with a shirt, a bow instead of a tie, suspenders, bermuda shorts, and flat mary-jane shoes. He has fingerless opera gloves, and ankle socks with bows on the outer hems. Assigned Flower: Snowdrop

Character Notes: - Likes to alter his clothes - He's a HUGE fan of Diamond, he wants to be like them some day - Prefers working at night when she can - He keeps several of his own jellyfish in his room

Nicknames: "Prou" or "Pru" Job: Cleaner Likes: Winter, Rain, Fashion Design, Singing Dislikes: Sunlight, Being Alone, Loud Environments, Pressure --------------------

Name: Rhodochrosite Pronouns: They/Them Age: 746 years old Mohs Hardness: 4 Height: 6'1 Appearance: They have broader shoulders and thicker legs, they have a round face with a smaller nose, angular eyes, and medium brows. They have shorter hair that covers their ears and reaches their lower neck, with two small hairs sprouting from the top of their head- their hair has irregular, wavy streaks. They're wearing a summer uniform with a shirt, tie, short-shorts, and flat shoes. They have opera gloves and thigh-high socks. Assigned Flower: Hydrangea

Character Notes: - A bit of an insomniac - May seem rude at first, but they're just incredibly shy - The others often forget what they sound like - They are surprisingly messy despite their love of organising things

Nicknames: "Rho" or "Rhody" Job: Gardener Likes: Weeding, Checklists, Flower Pressing, and Organising Things Dislikes: Being forced to speak, Asking for help, Destructive Insects, and Scary Stories --------------------

Name: Scorodite Pronouns: They/She Age: 713 years old Mohs Hardness: 3.5 Height: 5'5 Appearance: They are quite petite, they have a round face with a button nose, and medium lashes with thin brows. Her hair reaches her shoulders, with some falling over their shoulders, and bangs that frame the face and cover the forehead. She is wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, short-shorts, and simple loafers. They have white ankle-socks Assigned Flower: Carnation

Character Notes: - A calming presence, it's hard to be angry around them - They often put others' needs above their own - Very talkative around their friends - Has surprisingly good aim, but they can't really use it often

Nicknames: "Scori" Job: Cleaner Likes: Butterflies, Sweeping, Break Time, and Origami Dislikes: Running, Shouting, Wearing Gloves, and the Dark Extra Notes: Her eyes are usually always closed --------------------

Name: Selenite Pronouns: She/Her Age: 950 years old Mohs Hardness: 2 Height: 5'10 Appearance: She is quite thin and has an angular face with a straight, prominent nose, her eyes are soft with thick eyelashes and thick brows. Her hair is long with wavy ends reaching her knees, with a large strand falling over the right side of her face/right shoulder. She is wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, a knee-length skirt, and simple flat shoes. She has opera gloves and tights Assigned Flower: Calla Lily

Character Notes: - Usually active at night - She's very much a part of Diamond's fan club - Other gems feel much clearer after hanging out with her - Extremely feisty, despite her princess-like demeanour

Nicknames: "Sel" or "Selene" Job: Stellar Cartographer Likes: Embroidery, Fresh Air, Spring, Singing, and Interior Decorating Dislikes: Water, Dirt of any kind, Cloudy Nights, and Rudeness Extra Notes: Tiny flakes always fall from her hair, this has no effect on her body or memory --------------------

Name: Taaffeite Pronouns: She/They Age: 3402 years old Mohs Hardness: 6.5 Height: 6'2 Appearance: She has a slim build and has a softer face with rounded eyes, circular eyebrows, and a straight nose. They have long hair that reaches their behind with a long, singular strand protruding from the top of their head. She is wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, a knee-length skirt, and simple shoes. They have white, elbow-length gloves and and white knee-high socks. Assigned Flower: Hyacinth

Character Notes: - Wants to be a doctor, but they're surprisingly squeamish - Often teases others affectionately - Used to have a terrible temper, but she is almost fully in control of it now - She's secretly very competitive, but has good sportsmanship

Nicknames: "Taaff" or "Taaffy" Job: Protector/Caretaker Likes: Deep Conversations, Journaling, Meditating, and Non-Fiction Dislikes: Violence, Carelessness, Stumbling, and Eavesdropping Extra Notes: They have dimples when they smile --------------------

Name: Tanzanite Pronouns: They/Them Age: 875 years old Mohs Hardness: 6.5 Height: 5'8 Appearance: They are small yet somewhat curvy, they have a soft, round face with a larger, pointed nose and wide, angular eyes with one extra lash on the top and one on the bottom, they have thick, bean-shaped brows. They have long hair tied in loose pigtails that reach their knees, their bangs fall over their ears and frame their face. They are wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, short-shorts, and flat mary-jane shoes. They have opera gloves and knee-high socks. Assigned Flower: Hibiscus

Character Notes: - They can see through every lie, even if they're unsure, they'll be onto you - Has great balance and an even greater sense of direction - They don't emote much, but they can be easily embarrassed - Good at archery, but they haven't grown out of the training bow just yet

Nicknames: "Tanza" or "Taz" Job: Explorer/Cleaner Likes: Stars, Archery, Navigation, and Collecting Dislikes: Lies, Heavy Rain, Mud, and Crowds --------------------

Name: Uvarovite Pronouns: They/Them Age: 5780 years old Mohs Hardness: 7.5 Height: 6'3 Appearance: They're of average build with broader shoulders, they have a rounded face with medium straight brows, their left brow having a slit on the arch. They have rectangular eyes with extra bottom lashes, and a long, straight nose. Their hair is in a thick, messy bob that reaches their jaw with two strands sticking out of the part. They are wearing the winter uniform with puffy sleeves, a tie, short-shorts, and flat shoes. They have white elbow-length gloves and thigh-high socks, with a plain ribbon wrapped around their left thigh. Assigned Flower: Ornithogalum

Character Notes: - They're not as mysterious as everyone thinks - They built themselves a hideout, few know it's whereabouts - Despite being a delinquent, they rarely break any rules - They're thinking about becoming an explorer, but they haven't decided yet

Nicknames: "Varo", "Uva", or "Rovi" Job: Protector Likes: Solitude, High Places, Parkour, Cartography, and their Friends Dislikes: Talking, Impractical Things, Bright Flowers, Being Indoors Extra Notes: Has a ribbon tied around their leg as a member of the Delinquents --------------------

Name: Vivianite Pronouns: He/They Age: 7196 years old Mohs Hardness: 1.5 Height: 6'4 Appearance: He is slender with a thin, oval face- he has large pill-shaped brows, soft eyes, and a long, soft nose. They have long, straight hair that reaches the back of the knees, one side is tucked behind their right ear while a smaller strand falls in front of his left shoulder reaching the middle of his torso, they are wearing a plain three-piece suit and tie with dress shoes. He also carries a walking cane on his right. Assigned Flower: Pansy

Character Notes: - He will be tough on you when he needs to be - Beloved by the youngsters - If you're playing Hide and Seek, he may hide you if you ask nicely - Always happy to teach anyone anything they know

Nicknames: "Vi" or "Vivian" Job: Teacher/Assistant Administrator Likes: Nature, Soft Rain, Sketching, and Reading Time Dislikes: Severe Weather, Being cooped up, Negligence, and Arguments Extra Notes: Always using a walking stick -------------------- AND THAT'S ALL 20 OF MY OCs!! If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! Their profiles will be more detailed on my Toyhou.se, but I made these the best I could

Edit: added appearance descriptions. Apologies if they get repetitive! I didn't want to miss anything

[chattingwiththelightkeeper]

Whispers from the Keeper’s Quill:

The Power of Leading - Love's Succeeding

In the dominion of control,

Consistency plays its vital role,

Guiding the submissive, making them whole.

Structure forms a sturdy base,

In its confines, passions embrace,

Accountability ensures no disgrace.

For the submissive to thrive and grow,

The dominant's guidance they must know,

In consistency and trust, their connection will flow.

Hand in hand, they journey on,

In the dance of dominance, their bond is drawn,

Together they rise, from dusk till dawn.

With each rule upheld, a promise made,

The submissive finds solace, fears begin to fade,

In the dominant's care, they're never afraid.

Through discipline's touch, they learn and yearn,

Their desires aflame, they eagerly discern,

In the structure provided, they joyfully return.

And as the dominant leads with strength and might,

The submissive surrenders, bathed in their light,

Together they soar, in the dominion of the night.

Edward Volkl

If you enjoyed this, I invite you to give my podcast a listen 'Chatting With The Lightkeeper,' a top 25% most-followed podcasts on Spotify but available on all the major podcasting apps and follow my socials for more exclusive content: Instagram, Facebook, Bluesky, and X (formerly Twitter) for a deeper dive into the wonderful world of D/S.

As with all of my thoughts, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2024

[murderblunder]

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

WITHIN TEMPTATION Releases New Single 'Ritual'

Dutch metallers WITHIN TEMPTATION have released their brand-new single "Ritual". The song is the focus track of their upcoming eighth studio album, "Bleed Out", due out on October 20.

Reflecting the tumultuous state of the world, for their newest record the band have drawn inspiration from events such as the murder of Mahsa Amini in Iran and the war in Ukraine. But that isn't to say that there's no light to the heavy shade on "Bleed Out".

Vocalist Sharon Den Adel explains that the song "is one of the kinkiest songs the band have ever written and is fully inspired by 'From Dusk Till Dawn'." She is referring to the iconic movie by Quentin Tarantino about a seemingly normal road trip turning into a vampire slayer party. "It's a fun track about seduction," she explains. "It's about the lady taking power in a male dominated world and taking her own initiative."

"Bleed Out" signifies a bold leap forward for the band. From contemporary, hard-hitting, and djenty riffs to soaring melodies displaying their symphonic roots, WITHIN TEMPTATION has created a sonic journey that fuses diverse musical styles and thought-provoking themes. This is an album that is as epic as it is unflinchingly outspoken, and now more than ever, this is a band who isn't afraid to make a stand on issues the members care about.

[glossolali]

winter's crest gift exchange fic for @marymauk 💖

shadowgast greek ocean mythology au

sirens, nereids, gods, whump, hurt/comfort, first meeting, flirting, falling in love

cw: drowning, temporary / implied mcd

4.7k

—

Caleb has finished teaching for the day, and something anxious in him wants to wander this evening, perhaps winding more outwardly than usual– to walk under the stars and follow the salt on the breeze till he makes it to the beach.

Perhaps he'd been inside stone buildings with his nose in his scrolls for too long; his heart longs for the inimitable feeling that is only evoked by the open sky, open sea, and open road. That strangeness, that magic, that mystery– the sense of seemingly endless possibilities, held in the depths of the ocean, and the heights of the heavens.

He wants to think about the nature of things and his position within the bigger scope of the gods and their plans– or lack thereof.

But he doesn't quite want to go there tonight; he is in such a hopeful mood after all. Maybe it is merely brightly-colored frivolity that fuels his urges tonight, but maybe he really will learn something new by contemplating all that is bigger than he is, some inkling that can help him in his quest to bring his family home. The answers certainly seem to be eluding him within the four walls of his study, the library, and his classroom otherwise.

So he sets off on his own before dusk, outbound from the depths of the city, and forgoes informing Beau, Veth, or any of his other colleagues and friends about his plans. This irresponsible craving seems to be making a place for itself in his heart this night, and an overabundance of warnings and cautioning would do nothing but sour his mood.

After an hour or so of his trek, he crests a ridge, over a grassy knoll– and below, the sea in all its sparkling, inky grandeur reveals itself, meeting the molten sunset sky at the horizon line.

He breathes the salty air in deep. It is reinforced every time he meets the ocean, that despite what it has taken from him, he still feels connected to it. Or maybe it's because he lost a part of himself to it that he is always drawn here?

The Gods meant to watch over it, however? That is a different story.

[read the rest on AO3]

[lale-txt]

♡ 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊: 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

where the words still echo in his head... "this meeting must be fate, Rayleigh!"

a/n: day 4 of @rogerpirateswk! when you know me a bit, you know that i'm weak for old men in love and for confessions of all kinds. they're not old yet in this little drabble, but it's the beginning of something, huh? (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

word count: 915

It was them against the world.

Rayleigh watched Roger’s broad back as the captain leaned against the railing, staring out at the sea as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. He could have sworn that Roger grew another inch or two in the past month. However his wide grin stayed the very same as it was back when they first mate.

Fate, Roger had called it.

And Rayleigh had known deep within that he was right. Back then, he was a lost soul, an aimless wanderer. He didn’t need much, he never did. A good book and a full flask, the sea breeze messing up his golden hair… Rayleigh enjoyed his solitude. He needed no one, he was fine on his own. It was easier telling himself this than to stare into the darkness within him.

Sure, those hungry kisses in dark corners of the bar were nice, but after a while they all started to taste the same—hollow, a little bitter even. Instead of filling the void, they only caused those cracks to deepen even further. It’s as if his soul was pouring out of them, oozing into those greedy hands that roamed over his body and would be forgotten when the sun rises again.

Not worthy of love.

Those voices were loud sometimes and made it hard not to believe them. He never stayed till the next morning. The warm colors of the dawn were for lovers only; it was the deep blue of dusk that was reserved for the lonely—people like him.

Back then when they first met, it was Roger who had dipped his fingers into Rayleigh’s soul, pouring nothing but gold into it, filling all the cracks with it. It was as if his laughter shook Rayleigh from within. As if he knew that this was the beginning of something; that this very moment will mark his life forever.

A life before Roger and a life after Roger. And later, much later, one without him.

It’s been almost a year since they set sail together for the first time. Their crew was small, but they were all good people. It’s as if Roger had just drawn them all close to him, like moths radiate towards the light. And oh, how bright he shined…

Rayleigh’s thoughts got interrupted when Roger turned his head and looked over his shoulder, probably feeling the intense stare of his first mate drilling in his back. He grinned, gesturing to him to join him. To say that his heart skipped a beat whenever Roger smiled at Rayleigh was an understatement. It leaped and vibrated in his chest and wouldn’t calm down until late at night, when Rayleigh was alone with his thoughts again. And all they did was to spin around Roger and Roger only, an universe on their own.

Roger reached for the bottle of booze in Rayleigh’s hand and took a sip before he handed it back to him. They were both leaning against the railing, so close that their shoulders and their arms were touching. Rayleigh could feel the heat coming from Roger’s body. He truly was like the sun, radiating this unknown warmth. And even as the night set and wrapped them into its dark veil, it was like Roger was shining brighter than anything.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that all of this was real.

Rayleigh watched Roger, his eyes lingering on his big, strong hands and the way his lips moved when he spoke. He always noticed the twinkle in his eyes and the way he adjusted his straw hat when the sea and its tides were getting a little rough. Sometimes he didn’t even comprehend what Roger just said, just the deep vibrato of his voice was enough to make Rayleigh weak in the knees. Everything about Roger made Rayleigh want to hold his hand out, praying he would take it.

He had no doubts he would.

“You’re deep in thoughts tonight.”

Roger flicked Rayleigh’s forehead as if he wanted to snap him out of it, causing the first mate to huff and laugh softly as he rubbed the aching spot. The captain always underestimated how strong he was.

“Just thinking about life and its odd turns. It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Rayleigh’s voice was low and his gaze wandered from Roger to the pitch black sea. It was a calm night, the sound of the waves rocking the boat was comforting, covering the loud drums of his heart. His hand brushed Roger’s and neither of them pulled away.

“It’s fate, Rayleigh, I told you.”

Roger grinned, his eyes pinned on his partner who now rested his chin on his palm, a small smile curling up on his lips. Rayleigh never had any doubts about it. What if not fate would make his soul feel so at ease with Roger, so light and warm, protected even? He’d put his heart in those big palms if he could, knowing he’d never ever hurt it.

He’d take it down with him to the deep, dark sea.

I’m falling for you.

The words echoed from every wall of his heart, sitting like a lump in the back of his throat. Not quite ready to fall out of his mouth yet, but he knew they will. And if they did, they’d blossom and grow into something bigger than life, bigger than the vast night sky above them. They’d build a bridge between the sun and the moon.

After all, it was fate, right?

[scotianostra]

January 11th 1940, John Buchan, diplomat, soldier, barrister, journalist, historian, politician, publisher, poet and novelist passed away.

Born in Perth the eldest son of a Free Church of Scotland minister, he spent time in the Borders as a child before the family moved to the Gorbals in Glasgow, he went on to have a truly extraordinary life from humble beginnings.

Educated at Hutchesons Grammar School Buchan graduated from Glasgow University then gained a scholarship to Brasenose College, Oxford. During his time there – ‘spent peacefully in an enclave like a monastery’ – he wrote two historical novels.

In 1901 he became a barrister of the Middle Temple and a private secretary to the High Commissioner for South Africa. In 1907 he married Susan Charlotte Grosvenor; they had three sons and a daughter. After spells as a war correspondent, Lloyd George’s Director of Information and MP, Buchan – now Sir John Buchan, Baron Tweedsmuir of Elsfield - moved to Canada in 1935 where he had been appointed Governor-General.] Despite poor health throughout his life, Buchan’s literary output was remarkable – thirty novels, over sixty non-fiction books, including biographies of Sir Walter Scott and Oliver Cromwell, and seven collections of short stories. In 1928 he won the prestigious James Tait Black Memorial Prize, Britain’s oldest literary prize for his biography of the Marquis of Montrose. Buchan’s distinctive thrillers – ‘shockers’ as he called them – were characterised by suspenseful atmosphere, conspiracy theories and romantic heroes, notably Richard Hannay (based on the real-life military spy William Ironside) and Sir Edward Leithen. 

Buchan was a favourite writer of Alfred Hitchcock, whose screen adaptation of The Thirty-Nine Steps was phenomenally successful, the pair can be seen together in the second photo.

John Buchan served as Governor-General of Canada until his death on this day in 1940, the year his autobiography Memory Hold-the-door was published. His last novel Sick Heart River was published posthumously in 1941.

From The Pentlands Looking North And South is a poem by John Buchan I can relate to, The Pentlands was part of my playground when growing up on the outskirts of Edinburgh.

Around my feet the clouds are drawn In the cold mystery of the dawn; No breezes cheer, no guests intrude My mossy, mist-clad solitude; When sudden down the steeps of sky Flames a long, lightening wind. On high The steel-blue arch shines clear, and far, In the low lands where cattle are, Towns smoke. And swift, a haze, a gleam,-- The Firth lies like a frozen stream, Reddening with morn. Tall spires of ships, Like thorns about the harbour's lips, Now shake faint canvas, now, asleep, Their salt, uneasy slumbers keep; While golden-grey, o'er kirk and wall, Day wakes in the ancient capital. Before me lie the lists of strife, The caravanserai of life, Whence from the gates the merchants go On the world's highways; to and fro Sail laiden ships; and in the street The lone foot-traveller shakes his feet, And in some corner by the fire Tells the old tale of heart's desire. Thither from alien seas and skies Comes the far-questioned merchandise:-- Wrought silks of Broussa, Mocha's ware Brown-tinted, fragrant, and the rare Thin perfumes that the rose's breath Has sought, immortal in her death: Gold, gems, and spice, and haply still The red rough largess of the hill Which takes the sun and bears the vines Among the haunted Apennines. And he who treads the cobbled street To-day in the cold North may meet, Come month, come year, the dusky East, And share the Caliph's secret feast; Or in the toil of wind and sun Bear pilgrim-staff, forlorn, fordone, Till o'er the steppe, athwart the sand Gleam the far gates of Samarkand. The ringing quay, the weathered face Fair skies, dusk hands, the ocean race The palm-girt isle, the frosty shore, Gales and hot suns the wide world o'er Grey North, red South, and burnished West The goals of the old tireless quest, Leap in the smoke, immortal, free, Where shines yon morning fringe of sea I turn, and lo! the moorlands high Lie still and frigid to the sky. The film of morn is silver-grey On the young heather, and away, Dim, distant, set in ribs of hill, Green glens are shining, stream and mill, Clachan and kirk and garden-ground, All silent in the hush profound Which haunts alone the hills' recess, The antique home of quietness. Nor to the folk can piper play The tune of "Hills and Far Away," For they are with them. Morn can fire No peaks of weary heart's desire, Nor the red sunset flame behind Some ancient ridge of longing mind. For Arcady is here, around, In lilt of stream, in the clear sound Of lark and moorbird, in the bold Gay glamour of the evening gold, And so the wheel of seasons moves To kirk and market, to mild loves And modest hates, and still the sight Of brown kind faces, and when night Draws dark around with age and fear Theirs is the simple hope to cheer.-- A land of peace where lost romance And ghostly shine of helm and lance Still dwell by castled scarp and lea, And the last homes of chivalry, And the good fairy folk, my dear, Who speak for cunning souls to hear, In crook of glen and bower of hill Sing of the Happy Ages still. O Thou to whom man's heart is known, Grant me my morning orison. Grant me the rover's path--to see The dawn arise, the daylight flee, In the far wastes of sand and sun! Grant me with venturous heart to run On the old highway, where in pain And ecstasy man strives amain, Conquers his fellows, or, too weak, Finds the great rest that wanderers seek! Grant me the joy of wind and brine, The zest of food, the taste of wine, The fighter's strength, the echoing strife The high tumultuous lists of life-- May I ne'er lag, nor hapless fall, Nor weary at the battle-call!... But when the even brings surcease, Grant me the happy moorland peace; That in my heart's depth ever lie That ancient land of heath and sky, Where the old rhymes and stories fall In kindly, soothing pastoral. There in the hills grave silence lies, And Death himself wears friendly guise There be my lot, my twilight stage, Dear city of my pilgrimage.

[saevus-brutalis]

alright, this needs to be done

dying light 2 — what’s their signature smell headcanons:

aiden caldwell

chamomile and honey, of course but also sweat, but like- not nasty smell of sweat. kinda like baby boy sweat. very mild, but definitely there - i mean he jumps and runs around a lot, swinging weapons at infected from dusk till dawn. i think he’d be pretty hygienic too or at least tries to to be. not everyday coz you know, the water is scarce, but still- he’s one of the good smelling folks despite the end of the world.

barney

man stinks like hell. i’m sorry barney baby, but you reek of alcohol and just nasty sweat. this man looks greasy af, showers once a month at best, sometimes less. probably is the one to be the last one to get cleaned up, insisting on using the water for other purposes. probably if deodorant was still a thing, he’d pour it all over himself to cover the smell - which would just make things worse.

hakon

neutral smell, i��d say with earthy undertones - like moss, wet wood, dust and dirt, maybe hint of lavender or any wild flower. he’s a very clean person and after the Fall, when the water started becoming an issue, he found out which herbs and plants help with keeping your odor in check. additionally he cleans himself regularly, so he’s really not smelly.

juan reiner

you’d think expensive perfume or cologne, but i think simply just soap. there’s no use in using perfume if you’re not clean. so most of the time it’s a strong smell of soap with the slightest musky hint to it. other people seem drawn to it. it’s definitely nice, attractive.

vincenzo

again, sweat, but that’s just the undertone. what really sticks out is the workshop smell - rust, oil, grease. smells like an old garage or a mechanic’s shop. not pleasant to everyone, to some it’s quite nice, to others not so much. definitely can tell it’s him when standing next to him, it’s that significant.

frank

alcohol (yes, even after you give the VNC tower to him and he seemingly stops drinking), very pleasant musky smell. he smells like a lumberjack, like a manly man, like a manly man with beard, a mechanic. something warm and pleasant. it’s comforting, cozy and homey. he doesn’t stink of sweat ever since he stopped being a Nightrunner.