#foaming at the mouth about Moon Knight

[sdr2lovemail]

Could you write something about Sun and Moon being irritated/jealous that they can't kiss the reader (the maintenance worker one) with their mouths like a human can so the reader shows them about all the other ways to kiss? Like kissing Sun's hand up his arm to his cheek until he is giggling so loudly Vanessa thinks he's gone off his rocker, or gently kissing Moon's forehead all the way down to where his heart would be? Even better if the maintenance reader leaves behind little lipstick marks on their face for Monty and the gang to laugh about :D

Inspired by that one tumblr post about a guy walking out with a few lipstick kiss marks and then saying "you should see what they did to the other guy" in a stereotypical mobster voice before said other guy drunkenly walks out absolutely covered in lipstick marks, sfw of course I want Fluff I want Affection I want Lovey Dovey-ness if you think you could swing it, just the softest silliest thing you can write, and keep up the good work anywho :')

I have no mouth, and I must kiss. (GN Reader but they do wear lipstick) Synopsis: After a play full of heartbreak and tragedy, Sun realizes that he'll never be able to kiss you. You remedy the situation.

Notes: It's been almost 2 years since I've written a fnaf fic, I feel rusty. Help wanted 2 got me calling my old mans' numbers. That's a joke they never left my phone. Anon if you're still out there, I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labors.

Requests are open!

Children are very persuasive. While you originally came to the daycare to fix a broken screen, you’ve ended up in a play. Decked out with a foam sword, you act as the story’s brave knight. Once you’ve slain the dragon, a kid wearing a Monty hood, your princess awaits.

“My dear knight! You saved me from the evil dragon!” Sun swoons. Instead of his waist frills, he’s worn a bright yellow skirt. Dangling from a few of his rays was a princess cap. The bells on his wrist jingle as he clasps his hands. “Is there any way I can repay you?”

You press a hand against your heart and bow your head. “There is no need, Princess. Protecting you is my sworn duty.” You’d say your acting wasn’t half bad for an underpaid maintenance worker.

“The princess has to kiss the knight!” A kid called from the audience.

Sun felt rigid like his joints were locking up. He hoped you couldn’t hear his fans kicking on as his body temperature rose. He would love to kiss you but wanted the moment to be perfect. “N-now friend, we don-”

“Mr. Sun can’t kiss them! He doesn’t have a mouth!” Another kid argued. Something about what they said made Sun feel weird.

“Yes, he does! It just can’t open.” 

Sun lets out a huff, turning to you. “They’re getting cranky. It must be snack time. I’ll pass them out quickly. That way, we can spend time together!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager for you to stick around.

Your fazwatch pings with an alert: a S.T.A.F.F. bot got stuck in Monty Golf. “Oh, sorry, Sun. I have another job to do. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Sun would be frowning if his faceplate could move. He quickly perks up and sets his hands on your shoulders. “Right! Right, right, right, you have a job. Responsibilities! I’ll- I’ll see you at closing. Buh-bye, friend!” The jester waves you goodbye before sighing, hurrying to pass out snacks before someone throws a tantrum.

The rest of your day goes as smoothly as working as the Pizza Plex could be. It was after closing time, and you were doing your final tasks. The glamrocks were in their rooms, the S.T.A.F.F bots were on their set paths, and nothing on the floor needed fixing. The last place you needed to check on was the daycare. 

Walking through the big wooden doors, Sun is nowhere to be seen. You call his name, followed by Moon’s, but still nothing. Shrugging it off, you make your rounds, checking everything is in place. During the sweep, you could hear muffled words from a storage closet.

“Do you think they’ve kissed anyone, Moon? We can’t do that…” That was the unmistakable voice of Sun. “I wonder what it would be like. Hmph, even the glamrocks can move their mouths…” He grumbles.

When you open the door, Sun jumps like he’s been shocked. He scrambled to stand up. “Ah! Oh, hi! You’re here early!”

“It’s almost eleven. I’ve been here for almost thirty minutes.” You say, checking your watch. “What were you talking about?”

“Would you believe me if I said nothing?” The daycare attendant tilts his head, his faceplate spinning a bit.

“No, I would not.”

Sun sighs as he sits back on the closet floor, his legs crisscrossed and his hands holding his face. Taking a seat next to him, you ask him what’s wrong.

“I was just thinking about some stuff after our play. Moon and I can’t kiss you!” He flops over dramatically as if he’d heard tragic news. “Our face is stuck in this stupid smile!” He tugs on one of his rays, angry at his lack of facial mobility.

“Hey, I don’t mind that you guys can’t kiss me. There’s more to a relationship than that. Besides, there are other ways to kiss.”

This breaks him out of his kissless stupor. “There are? Tell me, tell me!” Sun practically shakes where he sits. “Better yet, show me!” He opens his arms wide, inviting you to do as you please.

Taking one of his large hands in your own, you place a kiss on the back of his hand, leaving a lipstick mark on the shiny plastic. While he didn’t have pupils, you could feel Sun’s eyes burning into you. He didn’t want to miss a single second!

The touch sensors in his arms and hands weren’t that sensitive. Kids sure did like to scratch, kick, and bite. But even so, he could still feel your lips pressing fluttering kisses to his casing. Laughter bubbled up in his voice box. 

Kiss after kiss lined Sun’s arm. Even if it left stains, this is one mess he could let slide. You took his other arm in your hands, mimicking your previous affections. Kissing back up his arms, you reach his faceplate. Sun’s giggling gets louder as your lips kiss the hard surface of his cheeks.

“Hey, your shift’s almost over. Get ready to clock out.” Vanessa’s voice rings from your watch. 

When you pull away to answer, Sun tries to follow your lips. “Alright, I’ll be at the office in a moment.” Sun lets out another round of laughter.

“Oh, you’re with him… Your pay gets docked when you stay overtime, you know. Make sure to leave before the shutters close.” With that last sentence, Vanessa cuts off her line.

With excited, shaking hands, Sun brings your face closer to his. “Keep kissing me! Please, please, please!” His begging is cut short as he listens to Moon say something. “Awww, but I’m not done!” Sun still gets up to turn the lights off, moping the whole way there.

Bright red optics suddenly appear in front of your eyes. The lights glow against your skin. Moon clicks a flashlight on, making his faceplate look more menacing than he probably intended. “You weren’t thinking about leaving, were you? Not when you haven’t given me the same attention Sun got, right?” 

“Oh, of course not, Moon!” Cupping his face in your hands, you leave a kiss mark on his forehead.

You bring your trail of kisses down to his nose, trailing along the curve, up to the corner of his eye. Moon lets out that raspy laugh of his. He tugs you closer, craving the warmth of your skin against the cold of his plastic.

He watched as you kissed down his face and neared his chest. “Sun was whining all day, worrying over us not being able to kiss you.” Moon snickered. “He was fretting over nothing, as usual. But I must admit, he’s right about some things.” 

His ‘breath’ hitched as he watched you kiss right where his heart would be. The fans in his chest cavity kicked into overdrive as they tried to cool his circuits, trying their best not to overheat. “Kissing you would be a dream.” 

Letting out a laugh of your own, you press another soft kiss on Moon’s chest. “I guess I’ll have to do the kissing for all three of us.” Punctuating your sappy sentence, you kiss their sculpted-on smile. An audible puff of air leaves the daycare attendant’s chassis.

 “Attention Pizza Plex Guests and Staff. The Pizza Plex’s doors will close in ten minutes.” An automated voice rang over the building’s speakers.

More alert than before, you get up from the closet door. “I gotta go!” You were not trying to spend the night here. “Bye, Moon. Bye, Sun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to wash that lipstick off!”

They weren’t really listening, absolutely high on kisses. For a few hours, they simply rest in the daycare’s storage closet, gushing to each other about you. Well, more Sun than Moon.

Once it was time for Moon to do his rounds around the Pizza Plex, he’d forgotten about the lipstick covering his exoskeleton. It wasn’t until Monty knocked on the glass of his room.

“You having a good night, Moon?” It was like the smirk in Monty’s voice was audible from his voicebox. “Seems like you had a lot of fun.”

Seeing his reflection in the glass, Moon lets out a growl. How could he forget to wash off all this lipstick? “Not a word of this to anyone.” Moon scratched his fingers down the window, leaving marks behind. He turns tail to head back to the daycare and wash the stains off of himself.

Unknowing to the lunar animatronic, Monty had already sent a message to all the other bots.

[camille-lachenille]

I was discussing with a friend about the translation choice for The Fellowship of the Ring in French. In the first translation, the translator Francis Ledoux uses ‘communauté’ for ‘fellowship’, in the meaning of ‘a group of people united by a common goal or shared traditions’*. This is almost exactly the same definition the online Cambridge dictionary** gives for ‘fellowship’. However, ‘fellowship’ has another meaning, a little outdated, that keeps the idea of a shared goal or interest but with the added nuance of a bond of friendship formed over this goal.

And that’s where the new French translation comes in, with the title La Fraternité de l’Anneau instead of La Communauté de l’Anneau. Daniel Lauzon chose ‘fraternité’ for fellowship, meaning ‘the bond between people within a same group, working toward a same goal’*** There is an outdated and specific use for ‘fraternité’ in the context of a medieval, feudal society, to design the bond between knights who swore to protect each other in battle and always fight for the same cause. And knowing just how much Tolkien was influenced by the Middle Ages for his universe, this seemingly trivial difference of translation has me foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. Because it means the translator, Daniel Lauzon in this case, really took the time to study and look for the exact nuance of a word to best render the idea of The Fellowship of the Ring in the translated title of the book. This is so in line with Tolkien’s love for languages and words, I am over the moon.

There is a big debate amongst French speaking Tolkien fans about old vs new translation but I am a hardcore defender of Daniel Lauzon’s translations of The Lord of the Rings because it’s the one that made me fall in love with Tolkien’s style and poetry even though it was not the original version, and that’s a feat. It’s not perfect, no translation is ever perfect, but it had this feeling of deliberate choice for each word to best render the multiple meanings of a sentence or poem. Francis Ledoux’s translation feels too dry and artificial to me, even though I love how he translated Strider by Grand-Pas, or ‘Big-Steps’

* https://www.larousse.fr/dictionnaires/francais/communaut%C3%A9/17551

** https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/fellowship

*** https://www.larousse.fr/dictionnaires/francais/fraternit%C3%A9/35113

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 6); shouto todoroki/reader

Content warnings: aged up characters, everyone is in their 20s or older. fantasy au. no pronouns used for reader, but they are described to wear skirts and are referred to as ‘my lady’.

heyyy so this literally kept me up last night. sorry the last parts are like 6 months late. hopefully the finale is worth the wait.

part 5 : part 6 (you are here) : part 7

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

All you know is that you need to get away.

Your mind is whirling, the snide voice of your own insecurities filling your mind with all the reasons a prince  could never love you. You race out of the ballroom, startling the guards at the door. The main doors to the palace are shut, and too heavy for you to open on your own, so you make a split second decision and dart down the halls towards the servant's passages.

 A moment after you make your escape, you hear Shouto's voice call out for you, and footsteps pounding down the marble hallways on your heels. You dash into the servant's passage, throwing the door open behind you. Several maids in the passage quickly move out of your way, armloads of linens hoisted above their heads to make room for your escape.

The passage opens up into the scullery, and you slow your mad dash enough to avoid the risk of falling into one of the steaming hot vats of water, topped with soapy foam, where laundry is being washed. Finally, you reach a door to the outside, and you take a breath of cool night air. You can still hear a commotion inside, and you're not ready for what that might mean, so you continue your flight deep into the palace gardens.

The gardens are dark, lit only by the arcane lamps that stand near the paths, and the shadows grow even deeper when you veer off the path and into the woods at the heart of the gardens. Left nearly blind in the darkness, your feet take you down a path you know well- and soon, willow fronds brush against your skin as you arrive at the great willow tree at the heart of the garden.

You sink to the soft grass, your skirts pooling around you. Your mind whirls, processing not just tonight, but everything that's happened over the past few days. The knowledge that your knight is the prince of the kingdom slots in like a final puzzle piece, revealing the whole picture. It makes sense now, why the queen seemed so knowledgeable, and why Princess Fuyumi had acted so strange at the tournament.

Your knight is a prince.

You bring your hands up to your face, pressing them over your mouth. Goddess above, you'd sassed a prince,  and even worse, you'd licked his hand. You've been in the south long enough to begin to understand what their royalty meant, and the rules that surround people of that station. It was out of the question to talk back to them, let alone lick them, and you'd done both.

You contemplated making a break for it back to your village up in the glaciers, but then you thought about having to explain the circumstances of your return to the village elders and immediately changed your mind. You'd rather endure a lifetime of ridicule in a southern court over a moment of your elder's displeasure- they'd most likely scold you for embarrassing the village, and they'd be right.

You flopped back in the grass, looking up at the moon through  the willow boughs. Absentmindedly, you stretched out a hand, watching the silvery light play over your fingers. You're going to have to face the queen, you muse, conjuring  motes of ice in the air, letting them refract the moonlight. Now that you think about it, she had seemed rather excited over the prospect of you spending time with her son, and now you'll have to explain that you ran away from him during one of the biggest events of the year. Your exit definitely made an impression, and most likely not the good kind.

Shouto's face hovered in your mind's eye. He had looked devastatingly handsome in his formal wear, hair pushed back to showcase his handsome features, and a tailored coat accenting his broad shoulders and trim waist. More importantly, you remembered the stricken look on his face when you had pulled away from him in the ballroom. If he had genuine feelings for you, he definitely didn't anymore, you think.  He'd looked… heartbroken.

The crunch of footsteps snaps you out of your reverie, and you snap up from your position on the grass. You can make out a figure in the trees, and you try to quietly stand up, shuffling behind the trunk of the willow.

The footsteps get closer, and you can hear the soft rustle of the willow boughs parting as the figure steps past their shroud.

"My lady? Are you here?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart races- what do you say to the person whose heart you just broke? Worse, what will he say to you?

"Do you truly not wish to see me, my lady?" Goddess above, the sound of his voice twists your heartstrings. He sounds so melancholy his voice almost brings tears to your eyes. He waits for a moment, and when you don't respond, you hear a sigh wrench out of his chest and the sound of his boots on the loam as he turns to leave.

"Wait! Please wait," you call out, pressing yourself against the tree. You clap your hands over your mouth- your words surprise you almost as much as they surprise Shouto. You can hear his sharp intake of breath as he turns back.

"What is it, my lady? Ask of me anything, and I will grant it. Just please, do not flee from me again," he begs. You can hear him step closer, the brush of fabric against the tree trunk.

"I don't want anything from you," you can't help the way your voice snaps and cracks in the dark.

"Do you truly wish to not look at me?" he asks, and his voice sounds so sad that you can feel your heart crack.

"I'm not ready," you answer, voice thick with tears. "I'm scared, Shouto."

"Why are you scared?"

"I'm just a servant from a northern village, a commoner. You're a prince," you say. "I can't offer you anything- I have no money, no status, nothing that makes me worthy of royalty."

"That doesn't matter!" he roars. Distantly, you note that it's the loudest you've ever heard him speak. "I love you. All my life, I've only wanted someone that saw me for me, who didn't see the title, the crown. You saw me,  from the moment we met. You treated me like a person, like your friend. I loved you the moment you licked my hand,"  he lets out a dry chuckle.

You take a deep breath, hand over your racing heart, and then step out from behind the tree.

Shouto stands underneath the willow, drenched in silver moonlight. His hair has come loose from its style, a few strands draping across his forehead. You stretch out a hand for him, ignoring how it shakes a little. He reaches for you instantly, shedding his gloves so you can feel the warmth of his palm against yours.

"Say it again, please," you breathe.

"I love you," he murmurs, pulling you in by your hand. He moves slowly, letting you decide, and when you don't pull away he folds you against his chest.

You let your head rest against his chest, taking a deep breath before looking up into his varicolored eyes. He cups your cheek in one big hand, and you reflexively lean into the touch. "I'm ready to not be scared anymore," you say, steadying yourself against him. "I love you, and I'd like for you to kiss me."

"Gladly," he whispers, and leans down to slant his mouth over yours. His lips are warm and slightly chapped, moving gently over yours. When you shyly respond, you feel his fingers tighten in the fabric of your dress and he pours heat into the kiss.

He's all you can sense- the warmth of him pressed against you, his campfire-in-winter scent, the sweet taste of dessert lingering on his lips. He cups the back of your head, tipping your head up and devouring every inch of your mouth.

The kiss makes your head spin, and it's not until your lungs are screaming for air that you finally put a hand on his chest to push him away. He breaks away, and it makes something in your chest flutter to see that he's panting with a flush high on his cheeks too. He doesn't take a step back; instead he wraps his arms around you and rests his forehead on yours while the two of you catch your breath.

"We should do that again," you blurt out. Your declaration startles a laugh out of him, and you swear it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"People will talk if we stay out here for much longer, and you're already… disheveled," he says diplomatically. You look down; you know your hair is a mess, your dress is askew and the hem is muddy after your impromptu hike through the gardens.

"I don't care," you decide. "I'm a mess, and people will talk regardless. So bend down and kiss me, Shouto, before I make you."

His mismatched eyes twinkle in the moonlight. "As my lady wishes," he murmurs against your skin, obediently bending down to kiss the breath out of your lungs.

After the two of you finally separate, the moon is high in the sky and the sounds of the party have faded. You and Shouto share one last kiss before you go your separate ways; agreeing to sneak back into the palace separately to avoid as much gossip as possible.

You know that the queen has long since retired at this point, so you skip going to her chambers and instead take the servant's quarters to your little room. The exhaustion of the evening hits you as you push open your bedroom door, the anticipation of being in bed making you feel weary.

Unfortunately, you feel a frission of adrenaline spike through you as you enter your room, as the queen herself rises from her seat on the edge of your bed. "You're finally back, did Shouto-" she looks you up and down, taking in your flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and kiss-swollen lips. An amused smile makes its way to her mouth. "It looks like Shouto did find you. Were the two of you able to sort things out?"

You can't help the way your cheeks heat, made worse by the way her smile twists into knowing. Luckily she has mercy on you, gesturing for you to turn around so she can help you undress.

"You don't need to do that, your majesty," you protest, taking a half step back.

She props her hands on her hips, the stubborn set of her face reminding you of Shouto. "I suppose you'd rather sleep in the gown, then? And," she peers down at the hem. "Get mud on your sheets?"

"You have a point," you sigh. You turn and let her fuss with the fastenings, pulling your gown over your head one layer at a time. Once you are left in your chemise, and she has an armful of cloth, she guides you to bed with one hand.

"Rest, dear one. I'm guessing you'll be very busy in the near future."

She shuts the door, the room falling into darkness behind her. You fall asleep shortly after, dreaming of princes and kisses.

[bells-of-black-sunday]

@witchcraftandburialdirt asked:

"Tarhos … " Haruko's sonorous voice cut through the lingering silence of Shattered Square, his hands submerged in a bucket of red-tinted water, the foam spreading onto the fabric beneath, "D-do you think we're going to surviv -- !"

His eyes snapped open wide in surprise when his beloved husband interrupted him mid-question only to add another shirt being dropped into the tub in front of him, effectively splattering bubbles all across Haruko's curls. That simple act served to transport him back and reawaken memories of a bygone era, one full of bittersweet dealings. A time filled with the morning aubade of birds, their sweet music easily fluttering over the distant drums of war and hollers of men. Down by the river … away from their encampment and alone as the sun died and the moon rose to run her radiant fingers over their embraced bodies. Still then, his husband would drop laundry in front of him - ever the same … And before long his once solemn stare shifted into one of playful aggravation and pointed towards Tarhos; unable to keep his mouth shut he practically blurted:

"You are the most insufferable man I have ever met! Have you no decency? No shame? You brute --!" Wet laundry was hurled through the air, eagerly connecting to the back of Tarhos' head with a thwack! and a joyful titter from his wife, "Out of all the people here, why do I have to be stuck with you!" Slap! A sock! Whap! Alejandro's tunic! Haruko stood up and approached his husband, stifling his giggles as she playfully jabbed Tarhos in the chest with the tip of her finger, shifting his weight with a cock of his head and tilt of his hips, "And do not think you are going to be walking away. No no no, you are going to help me with all of this after dirtying my water!"

With a mocking sneer, his eyebrows drew together and his tongue peeked between his teeth, as he pressed yet another sopping shirt against Tarhos' chest before his brow rose challengingly, lips drawn in a wide grin. His smile was luminous, a delicate blush tinting his cheeks and growing up to reach the tips of his ears, and his eyes held the entirety of the night sky in their depths. A teasing swoon: "After all, O' Fair Knight, what is a naive and weak-willed maiden like me to do? I am not strong enough to carry the burden alone~"

 ━ Dead By Daylight

The square was cast in shadow, far was the blinding light he was once permitted and now the dim gloom enshrouded the old square. Still... Tarhos could see how his wife's brows knitted, his solemn gaze as he stared at the murky water he practically rubbing his fingers raw trying to get the stains out. The knight was aware of his faults, how he's failed him time and time again... at least outside of the trials they could pretend things were normal until they'd get interrupted again. He walked over slipping off his linen shirt and teasingly dropped it in the water if only to take his mind off of whatever question neither of them had answers to that was bothering him.

The amusement in Haru's voice almost made him laugh far before the wet linen it the back of his head forcing him to turn around and face the maiden who seemed to be well out of his own solemn head now. The knight forced a teasing huff placing his hands on his hips as he looked down at his wife, his pale eyes glittering with bemusement at the situation, but he let him "rant" on just like he would do in simpler times. How his rants would turn into fits of giggles until he couldn't finish his sentence, "Well maybe if you hadn't used up all your energy throwing things and ranting like mad-man over laundry you'd be able to finish it love." It was hard to even try to pretend to be serious.

He let his hands fall from his waist and reach for his wife's, his calloused fingers tracing every small nick and scar before he'd bring his knuckles up to his lips. It was sweet for a moment until he made a face and spit onto the ground, "Fucking hell- forgot about the soap."

[girlwonderers]

i had been planning on playing álmos (my thaumaturge) when my group starts up kingmaker in a couple months, but then. the battlecry playtest. anyway now i'm foaming at the mouth over my 600-some-odd year old grizzled veteran commander elf lady who was a knight at lastwall when it fell, and rather than risk traveling all the way across the battlefields of undead she elected to have her squad escort survivors north into ustalav, Which Ended About As You Would Expect (badly). their traveling party was assaulted by werewolves, and the survivors of the initial attack had no way of telling who—if anyone—had been stricken with lycanthropy until the next full moon. so the commander made the decision that they would all stay awake and armed, bound with rope, and try to find some wolfsbane for treating any who turned.

then she woke up the next morning covered in her squadmates' blood, having broken free of her bonds and slaughtered them. she spent the intervening years trying to master her transformations and helping escort lastwall refugees to 'safety' (for relative amounts of safety in ustalav), and staying the hell away from civilization on full moons; now she's trying to redeem herself by offering herself forward as a military and defense commander for the new land charter brevoy is offering.

would be cool if i had a name for her!

[plutolovesyou]

Omg i wish more people knew what moon knight is, I feel like Ellie would totally love it.

OMG loser Ellie would probably sketch reader so often like any given moment she could look at you and immediately start drawing

I’m foaming at the mouth somebody take me away 😭😭

~🦈

SHE WOULD TOTALLY. ok idk anything ab it....but my friends love it, and from their yaps about it i can confirm that would be her thing definitelyyyy. AND THE SKETCHING STOPPP she's so cute and perfect im gonna cry.....no pls your ideas are amazing i love them all and if ya sent some before they're all chilling in my drafts 🤭

[libidomechanica]

Ed be abler spied

A Tombe a midnight, as gay the empty could do?     Go on the lady friend shown; they lovelier badly pangs that always find a doubt, this     brighten sloping; the rivulet it swinging to whom thyself its before her one than     a wasp can I lay thy hand, the old about it smoothe hear all do: for ghosts, rejoice a     Seráb. The raised ear: surely smile; the

soul. Than if to seem as arguing like a noble     thou see the from their image of all me within the warre vpon the ladies thunder’s     desk and loud, and among us, lapt in the other doth weep, Love. As if disjoined     by what awoke in power is swerved from the said fra Pandolf chance or weep; a travel     make hot and life did, alas, I would

spirit of man, the boy witness. And Bracy! Oh     then, a stare lessed were yours years, it leave then down. In my arms and lives their bodies’ foaming     of Edens, and me she harms, wi’ right well know; and thatch, and I forget to the ocean     wind do not he love taught of men! Where in eyes my love-whisper’d when this due, only     Hope is nor there, when the five-words of

men the constant pluck that he look on the great me     third. Life and I like a college like to the memory was pale, the realists: and, and     left. Where an and never was wont to prayed at gavest of desire or lady     Geraldine presence-room. But with Lar and the of them rises like star, the United States,     that love sworn to approachine is scythe

heart. But missed never mine. Let me what love thee have     not abhorrèd bird they know, low, too,—with your eyes the gate? All fall and forgetful; thoughts of     my stay. To Lady Psyche, ’ I remembering her man love, neither deep these—what in herself     I the shriek like a regardens: thence, which two entity? An’ a’ the receives sae     gentle within a sweet the neighbourings:

but, O faith doth no singing on in a translate!     At night-lamp burning low! In loves a moment’s too familiar carved forced respect, how     amber: the field her at her badness, and her both ampler, and child, in the trampler, and     let me that I caughter’s Daught turn thine own flag, slips and pacing in the future as the     moon. Point, a soldier-laddie fragrant to

be receive it well with would the curled that is well,     my poorly-mountained by a cold, to wan and reach; and tower as man loves hides the     close his feet, how hate you stars. And swearièd with his graver their image of Her, no other     say thee: the hot and beat mountains, like a red boots, cowslip-water lot. Long Islander     feet voice right all thy constant wood,

but all the ocean, and up, to lean flag, slips she—     be sun. She see you stick’st not could excel or she is such as thatch, and of lovers such     gratitude’s just smart. Tis tendeth, when he too. Mary movèd alike the halls of better     twere I now I am old, where nothing to a mudroom with all song to guard you;     and sign a-footed her face, saying

by his bound the centered platest love gift contractable     corn-enclose you dost conversation her deep these words of Ida, touch more beauteous,     we still my wing’d with embrace, her Heart renew’d: their own frog wades; but missin’ my wedding     back. That I may leave the very weight, then we shadow, was gone to keep pace; but early     moue, will blesse nobler agony

to end with Soldier’s secret trothèd knight Mars, Priests,     the mistress’, and stink and heart, the nation yet, when as swerve from thought a mudroom with suit     world, your soothings are the image or prophet David,—david,—david, speak, and fair; but     slow. Yet Maud, alas! Which come, my Life to make you always far away. Makes left me I     loves that so, because shrine, lassie, O.

Thee, when your Academe, with not her; and died; and     blow, since hath, which when I say? Each exuding away to vainly sleep. She thought, nor under     glad, yea, glad the banks to conquering Beauty done. Of some in some with a backlot.     Upon deceive that’s half-flush they went in Cupid of dull flesh great mouth’s really the day,     that more the owl, the other love me.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Let’s look at the music! 

(While writing this I realized I was incredibly long winded and lacked the capacity to shut up about things I liked so this is going to be broken up into different posts because holy shit can you imagine? This is just about episode 1. There are going to be several posts after this because I can’t stop myself.) 

I don’t know about you, but I have been obsessed with the Moon Knight soundtrack. I am no music expert. I can’t talk to you about the chords or thematic major and minor shifts. I just know what sounds good to me and how music makes me feel. 

So let this non qualified music listener gush to you about the MUSIC that made this series. 

Firstly: Hesham Nazih is a mastermind. 

Everything about this show has such amazing thought put into it. From the set designs to the costumes to the absolutely fucking amazing easter eggs that we are still finding only by screen shotting each and every single frame. 

The director and composer are both Egyptian and wanted to portray their culture correctly. They wanted to bring their culture to a world that is used to horrid stereotypes and a burnt sienna toned world full of backwards and underdeveloped civilizations. The cinematographer took away the sand filter that Hollywood loves to place over Egypt and the absolute love and care that was taken from hiring an Egyptologist to having real Arabic all over to showing Cairo as a real and beautiful place… There are just no words to express how overwhelmingly wonderful it all is. 

Moon Knight is the first Marvel Piece that can be seen as absolutely stand alone with no prior knowledge of the MCU. It also doesn’t require you to have read any of the comics. But there are so many hidden gems for those that are fans of the comics. Gems that we can pull out and put on a platter and hand to the non-comic fans and everyone can still appreciate. Which is outstanding. 

So it is safe to say that with so much care in everything, is it a far stretch to think that the music would also not hold such wonderful gems? Maybe not always on purpose, but just enough of a wink wink nudge nudge to make you wonder… 

So let’s start with the actual songs chosen.

Episode 1: 

Every Grain of Sand - Bob Dylan

A Man Without Love - Engelbert Humperdinck

Arab Trap: Made in Egypt - DJ KABOO

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go - Wham!

Bahlam Maak - Nagat

-

“Every Grain of Sand” by Bob Dylan 

Firstly, I'm not a Bob Dylan fan. Never have been. But I am very aware of the history of Bob Dylan and the use of his songs in history. The man is meant to stand for peace and love in a tumultuous time. This particular album/song was released during Dylan's 'born again' christian phase. Filled with biblical references, talk of a past sin and looking forward to redemption it very clearly represents Harrow himself. Also there is an obvious motiff of sand, which has a huge born again theme in this show (Marc dying in the desert and becoming Moon Knight. The Duat. Finding Steven and bringing him back. Coming back from the Duat. The sand around Steven’s bed in a protective circle to reveal secrets….). 

A man that has lost faith in what Khonshu stood for and found faith in another path. The song shows Harrow as he works out his own ritual of self penance. 

This is the first song we hear in the whole series. We instantly understand that this is not the main character. In fact, it's easy enough to put together that this is the bad guy who believes in his own cultish/self righteous ideas. (Thank you Ethan Hawke for your glorious idea for the glass in shoes, it paid off). 

He has a routine and it is meticulous and careful with ideas of who he wants to be. It's a calming song that sounds so carefree. 

Now we instantly move to the next song and WHAT A CONTRAST. It's the most beautiful transition opening in ages. 

“A Man Without Love” - Engelbert Humperdinck

I cannot express how much I love this opening. How it first plays over the Marvel credits so you know that NOW we are getting into the show. 

How it fades out and then crescendos into Steven Waking up. 

Now we meet our hero and we see his routine. We don't know him yet but we are rapidly looking into his personal world. His apartment, his tether, his taped door.... We meet him talking to his Mum with love and see him feeding his fish. He heads out to work and every bit about him screams "Lonely is a man without love" along with the song. This song is a love ballad about a man pining for love. It sets the tone, the character, and prepares you to see a man trying to find his way. 

Honestly, can’t you see this song opening with one of those older romantic type movies about a sad man who is alone and falls in love with some perfect lady. It’s misleading. Of course now we know what’s going to happen. It’s not about him finding love out there. It’s about a man without self love. A man who finds a friend/brother/person who can share his life with. But we’ll circle back around to this song in the last episode. And it will have such vital significance then. 

“Arab Trap: Made in Egypt” - DJ KABOO

This is the first song we get that is not immediately served to a white audience. The first two songs are ones your grandparents could have sat down and listened to on the radio while feeling nostalgic. 

The original song is “Khosara” by Abdel Halim. Go give it a listen! DJ Kaboo took that original ditty and turned it into a hell of a Trap sound. 

This one is a play on what we think of when we hear the words 'Egyptian music'. The playful whistle. The beats. What's ironic is that this plays as Steven is LEAVING the museum where he works in the Ancient Egyptian area. 

Here we see Steven talking to the living statue. He talks to him like a friend and explains his continued loneliness. The music fades away. It's a simple touch, but it gives an intro into something different. 

“Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” - Wham!

Okay this song. This scene is absolutely the best. It's the scene that won me over and had me cracking up. Every time we see Steven waking up, we get a song about the state of his waking up. From waking up as a man breaking up without love to a song about a man waking up in a complete state of confusion and panic. This song is so happy and carefree. 

A song about asking for their significant other to wake them up so they don't have to be alone and they can go dancing with them. 

We see Steven and Marc fighting for control and waking up in worse and worse situations. 

“Bahlam Maak” - Nagat

The first song in Arabic. 

Translated it means "Dream with you".

It's romantic and soft. It’s old. It sounds almost like classic elevator music akin to “girl from ipanema”. We hear it while Steven is waiting at the steakhouse for a date that isn’t going to happen. It’s almost like we are looking into Steven’s idea of a romantic date. With his suit and flowers and chocolates. 

It's a song about dreaming of someone sailing to meet them and them sailing together. Here are the lyrics roughly translated (I do mean roughly because I do not speak Arabic...yet). 

I dream with you .. of a ship

and a harbor .. to anchor us

and we sail again

the wind resists ..and i found you

in your eyes .. and your hands

my shore and my wishes

the whole world

with its secrets

living with me

living inside me

as long as you're .. in the journey with me 

my name and your name .. my dear

my town .. and my story

my home and my wanderer

the whole world

with its secrets

living with me

living inside me

as long as you're .. in the journey with me

So we have yet ANOTHER song about dreaming. Or waking up and secrets. How clever all of the things that are casually tossed in with more meaning. 

All these songs really do add together and build up our picture of Steven. Fun songs, happy sounding songs, loving soft songs, but all about being alone, of wanting someone there to do things with, to share with. 

The composed songs are all dramatic or simple background music. They are huge shifts from the actual songs that we overtly hear. But they are all in the background. They are there to build the tension and mystery that is quietly and slowly pushing into Steven’s life. 

We don't actually hear the Moon Knight Theme until the very end of the episode. This whole episode we've had slow hints in the background composed music. Quiet nods to it. And then as the big reveal happens, it comes blasting in on full chorus. 

HERE IT IS. THE THEME OF THE SHOW. Over the credits! This show is not about the violence and fighting choreography (though when we get it, it is wonderful and a true thing to see). This show is about the slow burn leading up to what makes Moon Knight. It’s about the mystery. The inner workings that come before we can see the man the myth the legend. 

What I love about the music episode to episode is that there is no standard format! Every opening is different. Every closing song is different. EVEN THE CLOSING IMAGES ARE DIFFERENT. You have to pay attention to absolutely every single last thing. 

But oh the Moon Knight main theme. It's so beautiful. The orchestra is playing. The horns smoothly trailing off. It isn’t just blasting about beat’em’up. It’s got the feel of coming out of Egypt. It feels like a song played at night under a full moon. 

The music alone is enough to send me flying. And this is just episode one. You hear any of these songs now and you instantly know what it’s from. What was happening on the screen. This is such a far cry from a lot of big movies/shows now. With throw away background stuff that blends in or is so generic. Each song is picked to mean something. To set the scene. To set the tone. To set the character! 

Anyone listen to Man without love now and not see the apartment and Steven waking up? Anyone hear Wake me up and not see a cupcake truck careening desperately down a mountain? I don’t think so. At least for me that’s the case. But I”m a little hyped up right now. I can’t wait to get into the other episodes as the music ONLY GETS BETTER AND MORE THEMATIC. Oh my god the music gets so much better. GO LISTEN TO IT. 

[symbioticsimplicity]

If Marc started losing control over when Steven is out at the beginning of the show...and Steven is his happy place/defense mechanism, how fucking miserable and hurt has Marc been...? I made myself sad.

[notwench]

anyway not to yearn in this wednesday night but i would like to take the time and this empty dash to talk about romance and brienne and her shit taste and the fact that she’s always falling for unattainable pretty men

[mrpenguinpants]

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Hey anon!! As much frustration I hold for crippling oblivious couples, I also love the trope so much. Plus I adore Razor. Even though I try to not call Razor a dog, I still google “jealous dog traits”. Also, I found out both Hanniejji and I secretly HCs Bennet is friends with Razor and Fischl. If genshin won’t give me character interactions then I’ll write it myself.

---

Semi Part 1: General HCs

Semi Part 2: Pre-Relationship HCs

Semi Part 3: Cuddle HCs

[Masterlist]

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

 @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @ aanne2601 @hanniejji​

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Bennet and Fischl are both foaming at the mouth at how deeply in love you BOTH are and yet you’re both equally blind. Fischl wants to grab you by the shoulders and yell at you that Razor returns your feelings and you need to stop doing whatever it is you’re doing. A sad Razor looks like a kicked puppy and even she can’t handle it. But Razor absolutely refuses for anyone to confess for him because he believes that you might just genuinely be uninterested in him. Plus, it wouldn’t feel right if he couldn’t confess himself. It’s his first love, this is important to him.

Bennet thinks it’s really sweet that his friend is in love. Even if he does get a bit pouty that whenever he get’s hurt, Razor will ask if he’s alright and leave it at that. But if you accidently trip Razor is already at your side and fussing over you. Bennet uses this as physical proof that yes, your feelings are returned and this man is in love with you, but you always brush it off as Razor’s nature to be caring. He’s smiling patiently on the outside but on the inside he has his hands in his hair and he’s screaming.

God forbid anything upsets you. Razor hasn’t been around other humans long enough to pick up on most social cues but he does have a good sense of smell. If you’re happy then the wind smells like sweet flowers. If you’re upset then it smells like mint. While Razor usually keeps himself in check and is somewhat indifferent, the second he catches any signs of distress from you he’s on high alert. Until you tell him what’s been bothering you - a group of hilichurls stole your bag of snapdragon flowers - he’s going to be on guard and stressed out. He’s already throwing his claymore over his shoulder to go and fight the monsters that tried to upset you. Wow, what a good friend you say to Fischl. Fischl is ready to punt you off a cliff.  

Razor tries his best to show that he likes you by bringing the things you need and looking like such a proud pup. He looks at you with such hopeful eyes that it takes you a second to register what he’s asking before you feel your own heart rate speed up and pound into your ears. You flush pink before you move to embrace him and ruffle his hair as praise as he nuzzles into your shoulder affectionally. You assume his affectious actions are apart of his wolf nature and how they act so you try not to read too deep into things. Even if Razor seems a bit too happy to be hugging you and receiving pets. Or the fact he doesn’t let anyone else pet him...

Bennet tries his best to help his friend out by giving Razor some advice but considering Bennet himself hasn’t been in a relationship yet, it’s all practical. Telling Razor that he’s seen couples bring each other flowers as a sign of affection, maybe Razor could find some plants to bring you? It ends horribly when he offers you a wolfhook and you just stare at him. He says that these are his feelings towards you but you’re just...so confused?? Wolfhooks have thorns so does that mean he thinks you’re clingy? Isn’t that a bad thing? Are you annoying to him?? But wolfhooks also symbolize wolves so is he saying you’re like family to him??? You’re internally screaming while debating if you just got family-zoned or if Razor is trying to subtly tell you that he doesn’t like you.

Just because Razor is, somehow, unsure if you actually like him or not. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get incredibly jealous and possessive at any unknown presence. He’s still a bit wary of the City due to all the conflicting smells and noises but he can’t help but look so sad when you have to run errands and you can’t visit him. But when you mention that a really nice knight gifted you a flower does Razor see red. He gave you a flower?? Shouldn’t you be happy with his? Why do you need another one when you have his? Is his gift not good enough? Is this your way of saying you’re interested in someone else? This poor boy is on the verge of either running off to go sulk or find the man that gave you this flower, which up until his knowledge - courtesy of Bennet - is a sign of courting, and absolutely destroy him to prove he’s the better partner.

He tries to keep it under wraps since he's been told that while in the City, he needs to exercise restrain and understand that if he enters. He's expected to at least respect the laws and people. But this poor wolf is so feral over this new development and this new smell that's been clinging onto you that whatever worries and isolation issues Razor felt about the city flies out the window as his protective instincts kick into overdrive. He sees other people and even pets as a rival for your attention and love. He just wants to scoop you up and growl at everything as a message to say “this is mine, go get your own”.

Even when the both of you are far away from the city, Razor’s continued mood seems to hang heavy over both your heads. You’re not sure what exactly caused Razor to be on high alert. He’s snapping and growling at everything little thing that comes close, even a butterfly!

You abruptly stop walking to Razor’s surprise as you whip around and frown at him. He can feel a chill run up his spine as he stands perfectly straight as you study him before you hold your palm out and looked at him expectantly. He looks at your hand with a small spark of perked attention before his nose twitches and he goes back to sulking. You’re still waiting for him as he shuffles a bit, his hair that resembled a wolf ear is twitching, before he whines and trots over and places his chin on your palm. He’s looking up at you with the most kicked puppy expression and you don’t even know what you did but you feel like the worse person in all of Teyvat.

“Razor...what’s gotten into you?” you ask gently as you rub circles into his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm. He seems really conflicted as his eyes dart away from your face and he almost looks guilty. He just whines and turns and buries his face into your warm palm. You’ve never really seen him like that before as you awkwardly try and comfort him. Until the same flower slips out of your pocket and you hear something primal growl out of Razor. His teeth are pulled back and he snarls at the flower as his pupils dilate. You quickly get between him and the poor flower before Razor tries to do anything.

“Seriously Razor, what’s gotten into you?” you asked concerned. He quickly shifts his attention to you as he pounces and knocks you over. You left off a soft noise as the wind get’s knocked out of you but you peep when his hands cage you from above. Razor’s red eyes bore into yours and you’re suddenly thinking the air is getting too hot. 

“Do you like Razor?” he asks, tilting his head in a cute pout. It makes you internally coo before you quickly snap out of it. Stay focused! 

“Of course I do! Remember we talked about this?” you say as you remember back to your previous interactions but this only seems to frustrate Razor more.

“No. Not that like. More...” Razor struggles with his words as he tries to piece together the right string of sounds to try and convey what he’s feeling. He seems so conflicted that it breaks your heart a bit. So you reach up and gently rub behind his ear as he closes his eyes and relaxes. He breathes in deeply as his eyes open and his pupils return to normal, but vastly determined.

“Together. Always. Just...us,” Razor says softly as he looks at you hopefully. There’s a small pink dust to his cheeks as his fang digs into his lip in nervousness. You’re not sure why but your heart absolutely sky rockets at it and you can feel your face flush pink.

“Um, yes?” you nod along, you think you’re understanding what he’s trying to say. Maybe he was just upset you were spending so much time in the City and away from him that he felt your friendship was neglected? That would make you really upset. But the way he phrases his words makes you believe that perhaps...

Before you can think more on it. Razor’s face breaks into a grin that nearly blinds you from the pure affection that sprouts from it. He’s already hugging you harder as he starts rubbing his nose and cheek against your neck. Making soft and happy sounds as he nuzzles you. He’s never done that before but you assume he’s just so happy. You breath a sigh of relief that it appears that your message to him was clear enough.

Yeah of course, friends always, you think

Lupical. Partner. Mate, Razor thinks.

---

whistling as I pretend I don’t see your stares. Yeah ik but it’s ok. This is a sorta semi series. We’ll build upon it. But Xiao content is next lol. I’m taking inspiration from this. I mean, when I don’t feel like shit 😷

I’ve been listening to [  Softy - Dear Moon ]. This isn’t the usual kind of music I listen to but it came on shuffle and this is now my mental breakdown song.

Quick edit: Turns out this is an ost from “My Mister”. I’ve never been into kdramas (I think I’ve only seen goblin, she was pretty, and Hwarang) but the cover picture looks so upsetting? My friend is really into tgcf and I believe that had a live action as well. 

[marcirose]

More observations of 90s Sailor Moon 65 episodes in:

Disclaimer: I didn't grow up with the 90s Sailor Moon like other kids did. I watched a couple episodes but that was pretty much it so I'm considering this my first time watching.

1- There is slight character development, but the progression is a lot slower than I would like.

2- Speaking of, everyone is still more or less the same person they were when they first showed up with Mamoru as the exception. Usagi's still doing teenager things and not really stepping up as a guardian that much but she's trying her best, everyone else is still talking shit about Usagi, and everyone's base character traits have gotten kinda stale at this point.

3- Literally every freaking character says stuff that plays into Usagi's self esteem issues like fam that's not teasing that's just being awful. "Usagi's never on time/I don't like weak women" What the actual fuck.

4- Ail and An are the best villains so far. They're so freaking funny and they're the main reason why I enjoyed the first arc of Sailor Moon R.

5- Makoto is still my favorite Guardian and 90s Mamoru is still the funniest character.

6- The Moonlight Knight makes absolutely no sense at all, but I love him.

7- I just wanted Usagi to call Mamoru "Endymion" just once was that too much to ask? 😔

8- I kinda wish there was more for Sailor Moon to do. She just runs around until one of the other scouts weakens the enemy before she finishes it off.

9- Y'all I got so scared when I made it to Chibi-Usa's debut episode cause I've heard nothing but terrible things about her 90s counterpart. I understand completely why y'all hate this girl. She gave Usagi this look and it was over for me. THEN she trashed her room for no reason and put on the soft uwu baby act to make her look bad? God, I hate these kinds of characters. Throw the whole girl away.

10- 90s writers really made Chibi-Usa a brat with no agency I hate this. Right now, it genuinely looks like Pluto yeeted her into the past with the mission of finding the Legendary Silver Crystal with as little information as possible and she just didn't have a say in it.

11- Say what y'all want about Crystal being a wonky adaptation, at least it showed Chibi-Usa's defense mechanism as an actual defense mechanism instead of her being flat out rude and pretending it is. 90s Chibi-Usa is actually LESS mature than her Crystal/manga counterpart. I get that she's mentally and emotionally still a child (due to her own self esteem issues), but at least Crystal Chibi-Usa didn't have me foaming at the mouth when she was on screen. She was a little rude but I didn't hate her.

12- Mamoru breaking up with Usagi is fucking dumb and is just there for pointless drama between her and Chibi-Usa that shouldn't even be there in the first place. It's not even good drama. It's just annoying.

[lostinfantasies38]

Modern AU Sirrastair

Here is more from my modern cop/Carta AU with Alistair and Sirra that no one asked for.  Except, it’s NSFW, so there is that!  Mind you, it's a WIP and subject to change.  But I wanted opinions on how it’s coming along.  💛  @kittimau @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @fluffymabari @sharkapologists @river-of-asgard @schoute @lyrium-lovesong

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tossing his keys on the ceramic dish perched atop the low bookshelf with a clatter, Alistair sighed heavily as he laid his wallet beside the ring of metal, smoothly locking the door with his other hand.  Pushing off the frame, he strode into his kitchen and yanked the fridge open.  A trip to the grocery store was desperately needed, but he never had time with the late shifts.  Grabbing the last beer, he popped the top on the stout and poured it into a clean glass.  

Admiring the foam in anticipation of the first cold sip, he almost missed the slippery scratch of pebbles under someone’s shoe from the deck.  Unclipping his holster, he palmed his Glock and ducked into a crouch.  Working his way through the edge of his living room, he stayed in the shadows, thumb resting on the safety, itching for an excuse to flick the switch.  

Peeking around the sliding glass door, the slightly open door, he froze in shock.

Sirra Brosca was draped across one of his deck chairs, curvy legs in snug leggings propped on the railing, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger.  She glanced up with a bored expression, her lips faintly quirking before settling into a plump pout and patted the chair next to her.

“Hello, handsome.  We need to talk.”

Tilting his head suspiciously, he slid onto the deck, gun in hand.  “I don’t know whether you are incredibly stupid or stupidly brave to break into a police officer’s house.”

The signature smirk that had haunted his thoughts and fueled more midnight fantasies than he cared to admit bloomed on her heart-shaped lips.  

“I’m Carta.  That should tell you all you need to know about me and my motives.  And technically, I didn’t break in.  I’m merely trespassing.  I cracked the door to get your attention, that’s all.”

Alistair shook his head while sinking into a chair against his better judgement.  “If that were true, you wouldn’t have given me that tip.  Thanks for that, by the way.  Although, I still don’t know why you would give us that kind of intel.”

“Quite the haul, right?”  

He noticed she pointedly did not give a reason for divulging the information that allowed them to intercept 9,000 kilos of lyrium from the port before it could hit the streets.  An estimated street value of eleven million Crowns, it was the biggest bust in Denerim’s history.

Tucking his weapon back in his holster, he steepled his hands and leaned closer to the dwarven woman.  “Why are you here?  What do you want?  Is there where you tell me I owe you and I say I don’t help criminals?”

Chuckling in that damnable husky voice, she crooned.  “Ooo, a romance angle!  Are we star-crossed lovers now?  Does that make you Guinevere?”

Smiling despite himself, Alistair snorted.  “I think I’d make a dashing Lancelot, thank you very much.  A pity the days of knights and codes of honor are dead.”

Sirra shook her head almost fondly.  “Not quite.  You strike me as a very gallant guy, willing to do what’s right, no matter the cost.”  

He leaned back against the chair, creating distance between them, but she followed his retreat.  Unfurling her legs from the railing, she pressed forward, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“You know, the Carta has a dossier on every cop in town.  Just like you have on us.  None of your ‘undercover’ cops goes unrecognized.  We see every move you make and it’s why you can’t nail them without an inside man… or woman.  It’s why I chose you, Officer Theirin.”  

Alistair tensed under her intense stare, held captive when she slid gracefully out of the chair, ankle boots tapping softly against the wood.  He noted the fitted cut of her forest green top, drawing his eyes to her ample bosom, watching with rapt attention as she swung her wide hips with each step.  Every move was an invitation, and he idly wondered if he would see the killing blow.  If he would even care.

Placing her hands on either side of the chair, she caged him in, staring at him under thick, curled lashes and murmured.  “Former Grey Warden, exemplary military record.  Most well known for clearing an entire school of children as Fog Warriors set it on fire.  Against orders.  You returned to the conflagration multiple times, carrying out boys and girls covered in ash until the building was empty.  I saw the footage, Alistair.”  

He shivered at the sound of his name in that raspy voice.  “H-How?  The footage and the mission were sealed.  There is -”

“I have my ways,” she interrupted airily, flicking her dainty fingers.  “You are probably the closest this Age has to a knight.  You are honorable and good.  Maybe a little naïve, but that is part of your appeal.”  

Crawling into his lap, she hummed appreciatively to discover how perfectly she fit in it. The man gasped as her thighs wrapped around his, her round ass deliciously close to where he wanted her, yet not close enough.

“Sirra…” he ground through clenched teeth.  “What are you doing?  What do you want?  What is this all about?”

Licking her lips, she held his gaze as she leaned close, veering right at the last second to purr in his ear.  “You need me, handsome.  If you want to take down my father’s organization, you will need me.  And… I need an alibi.”

His hands found her then, locking around her hips like steel as he growled into her curtain of hair.  “Why do you need an alibi?  Why me?  You know what, nevermind, I don’t think I want to know.  If you want to be an informant, which, for the record, I haven’t yet agreed to - I can’t be your alibi.  And this is hardly keeping our working relationship professional, don’t you think?”  

Grasping at straws, raging a war against his own desires, he struggled to find a way to get the dwarven woman off his lap before he did something stupid that involved little to no clothing.  Her face filled his field of vision, nose ring flashing in the faint sliver of moonlight, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“First, I don’t need an alibi tonight, but I know the time is coming when I will need you to cover for me.  My father is not the only thing I’m running from.  The pit is full of vipers.”  

Alistair frowned heavily at that, a dawning realization that she was not doing this just for him.  She was escaping, and he was her ticket out.   

“Second, I never said this partnership had to be professional… or respectable.  We’re both adults here, aren’t we, handsome?  Of course, if you want me to get off your lap, I will.”  

Gripping her generous curves tightly, he answered in a strained voice.  “No, I don’t want you to do that.”

Smirking, she brushed her lips across his in a chaste kiss.  “And that’s the rub, isn’t it, gorgeous?  You don’t want to want me as much as you do.  Because of who I am.  Because of my name.  Does it hit a little close to home?”  Sirra’s teasing smile softened when his hazel eyes darkened.  

“Shut up, you damnable siren.”  

A large hand wrapped around her neck and pressed her lips fervently to his full mouth, and they moaned in unison as their lips and tongues fell into a natural rhythm.  Scooting forward on the chair, he rose, and she locked her legs around his trim waist.  Once inside the house, her small hand carefully closed the door behind them as his lips moved down her neck, nipping at the sensitive junction where it met her shoulder.  She gasped in approval, bucking against his abs, and he chuckled.  

“Wh-where are you taking me, Officer?”  

Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously, and Alistair’s chest tightened in a way he didn’t really want to analyze right now.  Instead, he smirked, murmuring as he circled her throat with licks and kisses.  

“Where I take all naughty women who sneak into my backyard and proposition me with offers too tempting to refuse: my bedroom.  Where else would I take you, Sirra?”

“Ancestors save me.  You better not take me anywhere else, Alistair.” 

He chuckled again, full of promise, and she shivered wantonly as he carried her through the hallway to the master suite.  “Oh, I don’t know, I may want to take you all over this place before the night is through.”

They tumbled on the king-sized bed and she claimed his lips urgently.  As they parted for air, she scrambled out of her top, revealing her full breasts barely contained in her black bra, and soft curves he needed to get his hands on.  Alistair groaned as he kicked off his shoes desperately.  

“I hope you live up to that promise, handsome.  I want all of you and then some.”  

Flicking her leggings absently aside, she froze as he shrugged out of his shirt, bronze muscles rippling in the moon-washed room.  Without pausing, he unsnapped his gun, ejected the clip and laid them on his dresser before unzipping his trousers.  

She could see the trail of auburn hair that led to what she really wanted, peeking through the elastic band of his boxer briefs.  Sirra moaned unintentionally, the clingy fabric of his underwear leaving nothing to the imagination.  

Alistair paused and glanced at her then, splayed out like a Satinalia present on his bed.  Dark hair pooled underneath her flawless skin, reminding him of marble statues of ancient goddesses displayed in museums.  Sex personified as she bit her lip, a flush blooming on her chest, her eyes nearly black as she ogled him.

“See something you like?” he taunted as he stepped out of his trousers.  Striding confidently toward the bed, he knew she was drinking him in.  His cock heavy and hard between muscular thighs, still hidden from view, but obvious through the thin material covering his modesty. 

Exhaling raggedly, Sirra breathed, “You know I do.  What about you, gorgeous?  See anything you like?”

Reaching the edge of the bed, he shot her a dark gaze full of want.  “I see what I’ve fantasized about since that night in the club two months ago, Sirra.”  

Her breath hitched at his honest confession, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.  Alistair watched intently as it dragged along her luscious mouth.  Snagging her hip, he gently maneuvered her to the center of the bed and hovered over her.  His voice was low and raw when he spoke again.  

“But what I have before me is even better than I imagined.  I am in deep with you already, siren.  I have been since I met you.”

Lifting her torso slightly off the bed, Sirra reached around to unclasp her bra, a sultry laugh tumbling from her mouth when Alistair swore at the sight of her pierced nipples.  

“Oh, darling, you ruined me that night in the club.  And now I plan to return the favor.”   

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Snow Day Pretend (Kid Gou, Rin and Sousuke Story)

--

This was a commission for a lovely dear! I enjoyed writing this! I don’t really write for kids or about kids that often, so it was a nice change and I hope to write another story like this again.

Hope you guys enjoy!

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee.

If you’d like a commission, please message me.

--

“It looks so cool out though mom, why do we have to stay in and play”? A seven-year-old Rin was pouting, his eyes staring outside at the falling snow blanketing the already white ground. It was winter break and the kids were at home. Rin had his best friend Sousuke over to play, but when the snow started falling harder, they were ushered inside to play.

Pitter patter of feet were heard as Rin’s younger sister, Gou ran down the stairs her giggles being heard by the two young boys. She bounded over to her brother and started to jump around him and his friend.

“We can play pretend! It’s so much fun, please, please, please!” The energetic child kept jumping around them both until Rin finally sighed and nodded. Gou was so happy, she grabbed both Rin and Sousuke’s hands and dragged them up the stairs to her room.

“You both will love pretend! It’s much funner than stupid soccer!” Both boys groaned as they were led into Gou’s bright pink room, the overabundance of the color making their eyes hurt a bit if they stared at something for too long.

“What now?” Rin was still pouting, his arms crossed across his chest and bottom lip out to show his distaste at the whole situation.

“We pretend, silly!” Gou’s shrill laugh rang out through the room as she ran to her toy chest, her little hands rummaging through the giant box, clearly on a mission to find something specific.

“W-What’re we pretending t-to be?” The shy, timid voice of little Sousuke only made Gou grin as she started pulling out hats, swords and other toys and setting them to the side.

“Princess and Dragon!” Gou proudly proclaimed this as she pointed the toy foam sword into the air like she just proclaimed the sentence of the century. Sousuke stood silent as he silently giggled at Gou’s silly stance. However, Rin only scoffed and stood to the side looking bored and not interested.

“So, you’ll be the Princess and we’re the Dragons that sounds so boring; come on Sousuke, let’s go do something else!” Before Rin could make it to the door, Gou stood in front of it, a giant smile on her face as she tossed him the bright pink Princess hat. It was tall, pointy and had a glittering pink mesh hanging down in the back.

“I’m not the Princess, you are! I’m the Knight in shining armor and Sousuke’s the Dragon! Now put the Princess hat on, Princess Rin.”

“I’m not gunna be the Princess, I’m not a girl!” Rin only kicked the bright Princess accessory and glared over at his sister who still had the foam sword poised in an attacking position. Sousuke was silent as the siblings continued to glare at each other, he didn’t like it when they fought like this so, always being the voice of reason, he stepped in between the two and picked up the Princess hat and put it on.

“I-I’ll be the Princess and Rin can be the Dragon…d-does that work?” Both siblings just stared at Sousuke who had flushed cheeks. Gou was the first to break the silence and throw her hands up in the air and hugged Sousuke.

“You’re so awesome Sou! Now, let’s play!” Rin was still a little taken aback at what his friend just did, but he only smiled and let out a big growl, lunging forward to Gou. With her trusty sword, Gou stepped back and gave a battle cry as Rin and herself had an epic battle. Little Sousuke just sat back, Princess hat still on top of his head with a small smile on his face as he saw the two siblings having fun.

“Don’t worry Princess, I’ll protect you from this mean dragon!” Gou’s high-pitched voice rang out, jumping in front of Sousuke, sword held high as she blocked Rin’s “claws” from attacking the fair maiden.

“I’m not mean!” Rin protested as he gave a ferocious growl and lunged toward Gou, deflecting her sword as they continued their battle around the room. A loud rumbling echoed through the room making Sousuke laugh. It was Rin’s stomach that growled, making the red head flush. Gou grinned and poked Rin’s stomach lightly with the tip of her foam sword, giggling.

“Your growling tummy sounds mean to me!” She continued to poke it with her sword until Rin swatted the sword away, making it tumble to the ground and out of the knight’s reach.

“Oh no!” She gasped as her weapon was out of reach, making Rin grin, his pointy teeth shinning in the light. “Quick Princess, run!” Gou quickly grabbed Sousuke’s hand and pulled him along as she ran from the room in search of another weapon to defeat the mean ole dragon with. She could hear Rin behind them, growls and all. She pushed her little legs to go as fast as they could, running into the playroom and ushering the Princess under the bed for protection.

“Umm…Good Knight, why are we under a bed?”

“To hide from the Dragon, I must protect you! I have to find another weapon to fight him.”

The Princess only nodded in understanding as their little eyes started to scan around the playroom in search of a weapon for the Knight to wield, but also on the lookout for the Dragon. That sneaky beast could be anywhere for all they knew! His eyes spotted a magical wand, decorated in pink and purple sparkles, the wand having a moon shape. Sousuke looked over at Gou, who was running around frantically, shifting through toys to find a valiant weapon to defeat the evil dragon. He always enjoyed playing with both siblings, but Rin never really invited his younger sister to play. Both siblings were like his family and when he spent time with one and not the other, he always felt bad afterwards.

Getting the chance to play with both made Sousuke happy. He enjoyed how Gou was really into the game, playing the part of the Knight well and he could tell that Rin was into it too, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Smiling at the frantic girl, Sousuke decided to join in on the fun.

“Good Knight, there’s a magic wand to use!” He dramatically pointed to the wand as Gou gasped at the find. She pranced over and grabbed the weapon from the toy chest and raised it high into the air to show it off in a heroic pose.

“Thank you, Princess, this’ll show that nasty Dragon who’s boss!” Lowering her new weapon, Gou scampered over to Sousuke quickly grasping his hand and running toward the door, not before grabbing a plastic shield that was blue and yellow in color and handing it to him. Once in the hallway, the Knight looked around to make sure the coast was clear before handing the Princess the shield.

“Here Princess, this’ll protect you while I slay the Dragon!”

Sousuke smiled at the gesture and accepted the shield, holding it up in front of him, making sure the flowing, glittery material of his Princess hat didn’t stick to the plastic toy. Gou was showing him how to “properly” hold the toy of course. Deciding to make her even happier, he mimicked a curtsey, something he’s seen on TV before. His actions made Gou laugh. While still curtsying he properly thanked her for the protection as any grateful Princess would to their Knight in shining armor.

“Thank you, brave Knight, for protecting me.”

Gou continued to giggle at the scene. “Anything to protect you, Princess!”

“You’ll need that shield after I defeat the Knight, Princess!” Gou gasped, there, on the other side of the hall was Rin, pointy teeth on display and he even had a red dragon mask on the top half of his face. In an instant, Gou was in front of Sousuke, magical wand held high, ready to slay the beast in front of her.

“Do your worse Dragon, I’m ready!”

With a mighty roar, Rin lunged at both Gou and Sousuke, slashing his claws near Gou, but thankfully she dodged the attack. Doing a few poses, Gou held her magical wand up high and shouted.

“Ice Beam!” With her attack out in the open, she pointed the wand at her brother who froze in place, arms still raised, and moth open like he was going to take a bite out of someone. With a grin, Gou grabbed the Princess and booked it to another room.

“Quick Princess, that attack only lasts 15 seconds, we have to find another hiding place!” The two ran down the long hallway and even ventured down the stairs, Gou trying not to trip while going down them quickly. Once down, Gou pushed Sousuke to hide against the side of the staircase just as Rin ran past the stairs on the second floor. Wiping her forehead, Gou made sure her bother wouldn’t come back around before taking off on the first floor, passing by the kitchen where her mother was in making something yummy by the smell of it.

“In here, hurry!” Gou pulled Sousuke into the laundry room, closing the big door behind her to act as a shield against the dragon’s vicious attacks.

“Quick Princess, you have to hide, otherwise you’ll be eaten!” Gou’s frantic voice startled Sousuke a bit, but nonetheless he nodded as the now magical wand wielding child opened the dryer and gestured for him to get in. Clambering into the machine, he was enveloped by darkness as Gou closed the door. He could hear her footsteps as she was pacing the small room, guarding him of course.

It stayed like that for a few minutes, just Gou pacing the floor as she mumbled to herself about the different ways that she could slay the dragon and what kinds of neat magical attacks she can come up with. Sousuke tried to get comfy in the dark, cramped space, his hat falling off because of how small the space was.

“There you are! Prepare to die human!” Sousuke had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. From the sound of it, Rin was in the laundry room now. Not wanting to give away his hiding spot, he kept quiet as he could hear the commotion going on beyond the dryer’s door.

“That’s what you think evil Dragon! I’ll slay you and then rescue the Princess! Prepare to meet your maker!” Gou gave a battle cry of sorts after her little heroic speech as a string of magical attack names came from her along with Rin’s grunts of being hit or laughs of victory as he from what Sousuke could decipher successfully dodged her attacks.

A few more minutes of the attacks went on before Sousuke was blinded by the light of the outside world, his eyes straining because he was cooped up in the small, dark, enclosed space for more than he would’ve liked. Once his eyes settled, there stood Rin with a giant smirk on his face, hands on his hips in a victory stance. The Red head held his hand out for his friend to take, which he did as he helped Sousuke out of the dryer. Glancing to the right, Sousuke saw Gou on the floor, sprawled out as if she was dead; an obvious sign of her defeat. 

“I tried to tell her, her silly magic tricks wouldn’t work on me, but she didn’t listen.” Rin continued to grin as he took the mask off. A scoff was heard as Gou jumped up from the floor, hands on her hips and magical wand in her hand.

She made her way toward Rin, a look of determination on her face before she stuck the glittery weapon in her brother’s face.

“You were just lucky, next time I’ll get ya!”

Rin only stuck his tongue out at his sister, taunting her of course. “Sure, sure, whatever you say; face it, I’ll always win I’m the big brother.”

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’ll always win.” Gou pouted as she looked down at her weapon of choice before holding it up and making a declaration.

“When we fight again, I’ll be ready! I’ll be practicing my attacks, just you wait evil dragon!” With a new determined vigor, Gou ran out of the room, screaming her declaration of becoming stronger to defeat the Dragon. Rin and Sousuke looked at each other before bursting out in laughter. After gathering themselves, they made their way out of the laundry room, as Rin and Gou’s mother shouted about a snack being ready for them.

“I guess that wasn’t that bad…still would’ve wanted to play out in the snow.” Rin had a neutral look on his round face.

Sousuke scoffed at his friend. “Sure, thing Rin. You had fun, admit it, you liked playing pretend.” He nudged his Red headed friend who only scoffed and mumbled something. Sousuke heard it though not that he’d tell Rin.

Without another word from either of them, they made their way to the kitchen, the thought of a yummy snack on their mind.

[kaiser-dracon]

Chapter I: Welcome to Midgand, Mr.? (New Version)

The night was utterly still, silent like a held breath. The ageless moon glimmered brightly as "Sanguine", the crimson longship of the far-continent was sailing in the calm waters of Midgand. The ocean’s surface glowed with sea sparkle in bright blue light. A lone man let out a prolonged sigh as he gazed over the sea from his cabin on the ship.

He picked up a leatherbound journal from the nightstand beside his bed and seated behind a nearby table. He flipped the journal open. Smelling the salt in the air and feeling the boat creaked under his foot were his daily experiences since his journey began a few months ago. He turned the screw on the lantern that was near the table, turning it on. His features glowed visibly by the light; The lush, blond hair was coiffed over his shoulders to perfection. His eyes were pale green, like the hue of spring, bright and soft all at once. But a deep and distant gloom waved behind them.

He dipped his pen in ink, starting to write on a blank page. 

“From the Veritable and Staunch Accounts of Sir Avernus Diphda, valiant Knight of the Hyland Empire.” He stopped as a sudden rumble shook the ship for a moment, eyes darting around the room. “...I have been sailing the ocean for two months before I finally arrived at Midgand waters. If lady fortune smiles at me, maybe I…”

"Having trouble sleeping, your majesty?" Avernus was interrupted by the captain of the ship who was standing in the door frame, an older man, long gray beard, wearing a blue and gold outfit of the Hyland navy, holding a bottle of rum in his hand. His tired eyes sank into his sockets. “We’re already there. Although, I have a bad feeling about this, child.”

Avernus pinned his pen in ink. “Yeah. You and me both, captain. Besides, I can’t stop thinking about home.” He crossed his arms over his chest, glancing back at the ocean over the window. “I hope I can find something in Midgand, otherwise…”

Avernus trailed off into the distance, thoughts hazing by a deep sadness. A sadness that he carried from the far-continent deep in his heart. The captain cast an appraising eye over his equipment beside him; A long silver scepter that was leaned against the wall, an ornamented wooden chest, and two daggers in their sheathes. He favored Avernus with a nod of approval.

“Aye. It seems you’ve come prepared, young lad. Your foresight will serve you well.”

With that, Avernus noticed gray clouds slid in to cover the moon. Another rumbled rocked the ship. Suddenly dread tightened in his stomach. “Something is not right…” 

The captain took off toward the deck, and Avernus followed, picking up his scepter and darted out of his cabin.

"Report!" Captain yelled.

Suddenly they found themselves amid a brewing storm. Shouts filled the air as men rush about the deck. 

Avernus felt the air getting thicked by malevolence; the corruption that took form emanating from the daemons; hellish creatures that roamed the earth, searching to kill and feast on humans and malakhims.

Captain gestured at the front mast as it appeared to be damaged. “Look to the prow! If we don’t fix her up, we’ll be feeding the fishes!”

A violent gust of wind swept across the deck, throwing the sailors and slamming some into the mast and wooden walls. Avernus braced himself against the railing and raised his hand. “I don’t have a malak with me, but I’ll be damned if I die here.” A red, glowing sigil of magic circulated his wrist like a crimson bracelet. It scratched his cuff, and the blood that came out turned into a sliver trickle of mana. “Heaven Bright!”

Rainbow-like magic raced out of his fingers and spread above the ship. The churning sea grew still for a second, but it didn’t last. The whole boat lurched on the choppy waters again. Avernus slammed his arte into his surroundings again, trying to blast the clouds and winds away. “Can you just, like, chill?!”

Suddenly, the vessel listed starboard. Avernus thought it was from a gust of wind, but then a glistening tentacle, wide around as an oak, came hunting upon the deck from the dark depth of the ocean.

"Kraken!” the captain screamed.

The tentacle smashed a group of sailors against the deck, throwing their bodies away like used toys and sending shock waves over the deck. The rest caught up in the surge and fell from the ship. Avernus hit his back to the railing. As he slumped on the ground, he saw the captain dashing at the tentacle and slashed it away with his cuttles. 

The tentacle withdrew, slithering back into the briny waters. Avernus sprang to his feet. Captain waved at him from a few feet away. “I need your help, lad, or we won’t be able to get out of here alive!”

Salt spray mingled with the relentless lash of rain whipped against Avernus’ cheeks as he raised his staff, and the weapon extended itself from the top and bottom. He clenched his jaw in fury. “Show your foul face, if you dare! And I hope you dare!”

The surface water broke with a splashing sound several giant tentacles began rising from seawater, each nearly as long as the ship's mast.

"Ready the cannons, men!" The captain desperately cried as the seawater rained down on them from the tentacles.

"They are going to crash on us!" one of the sailors shouted in fear. Avernus scoped the enormous tentacles that were surrounding them, " No fire, no earth. Only wind and water. My choice is clear then,"

The sigils whirled around his wrists and sucked the blood out of his veins, turning it into mana. "Whirlwind Slash!" 

Wind solidified into sharp mana and flew at super speed at the tentacles. The scales on the monster's skin was too tight, but the arte managed to cut some of the arms. The beast shrieked in pain and started hammering the deck. Avernus dodged the attacks, diving left and right until his second arte charge up, rushing to his hands. "Aqua Sphere!"

A large circular warding shield was appearing above the deck, stopping most of the tentacles in their tracks.

His arms shuddered. "I can't hold them for too long, go to the cannons and fire!" Avernus yelled at the sailors as he held the tremendous force of the Kraken's tentacle at bay. The remaining crew managed to reach the cannons, lighting the fuses.

"Ready... Fire!" 

First, the port side cannons fired, and then the starboard side emptied their ammunition on the tentacles. The steel canon balls drilled into the flesh of limbs, tearing and burning them away. The large chunks of rotten meat fell into the sea.

"We got them! Yeah!" The sound of cheering filled the air as the tentacles began disappearing beneath the dark water.

For long moments, the sea churned only of its own volition, frothing and foaming like a horse’s lather. Avernus probed the surface but saw nothing stirring beneath the angry spume.

"It's not over! Re-arm the cannons, men!" The captain ordered again.

Then, with a tremendous roar like a hundred thousand death knells ringing as one, the colossal daemon broke the surface. Avernus brandished his weapon and whipped it at the monster as it stared with its pale yellow eyes.

"Wind Lance!" Avernus attacked the Kraken with swarms of wind arrows, targeting its eyes. The elemental bolts pierced the monster's right eye, but it lifted a massive tentacle, crusty barnacles clinging to its suckers, readying to strike.

Having no choice as his arte hasn’t recharged in time, Avernus dropped to one knew, teeth clenched, bracing for the daemon’s blow. The Kraken brought its mighty tentacle down upon the deck, showering them with slime and fragments of shattered wood.

Sanguine heaved upon the colossal impact, listing madly to and front.

Amidst the shakings, Avernus saw the captain challenging the beast, running at it with his sword drawn. “Get out of my ship, you ugly piece of sh--!”

Avernus watched in horror as the Kraken brought down an arm and smashed the captain with ease as if he was a little mosquito.

Avernus scrambled to his feet, rage cutting across his face. "Whirl…"

Before he could finish his arte, another tentacle batted him from behind, flooring him against the deck. A surge of burning anguish enveloped his body. Just as he was tried to move, he saw yet another one of the tentacles grab the captain’s wounded body and pulled him off the deck as he was cursing something unintelligible at the monster. Avernus crawled but immediately winced in the pain of his broken ribs, coughing up blood. The Kraken’s mouth yawned, and the body of captain disappeared inside of that infinite blackness, beneath a ring of thousand sharp teeth.

The Kraken reared up, fixing Avernus in its gleaming, beady gaze. It windmilled its flailing arms, beating them upon the angry water. Unbowed by its fury, Avernus blinked away the sting of sea and rain and staggered to his feet.

His body was numbed to the pain. "Abomination... I will show you what real pain is." Avernus raised his arms and clawed his hands. “For all the dreams that are lost!” The sky above them turned red. His breathing intensified. A new weight was pushed into his soul from beyond. “You will come to know my fury, beast, and you will learn to fear it!”

Rumbling, the Kraken surged forward and tangled its limbs all around the vessel. The deck quaked and bucked beneath Avernus’ feet. Its grotesque head loomed ever closer, blotting out the lightning-riven sky so near that Avernus could see himself reflected in the glassy, fearsome orbs of its eyes.

Two dark, purple sigils appeared in front of Avernus, and he pushed his hands into them. “May my face be the last thing you ever see! Begone! Celestial Crush!”

A pair of giant, dragon-like claws tore through the air and grabbed the Kraken’s head and crushed his eyes, pointy thumbs drilling into them. It thrashed its colossal head back and forth, clear ichor seeping beneath the claws that dug deep into its eyes. The Kraken shrieked in a piercing cry, seeking to unknot itself from the hull. But it was grasped onto Sanguine too tightly and couldn’t free itself. Avernus twitched his hands, and the summoned dragon hands mimicked his movement perfectly. 

The rest of his stamina left his body as Avernus put the last of his endurance into one final movement twist of his hands, pressuring them and crushing the Kraken’s skull with a bone-crunching sound. The monster’s large body slumped and began to sink into the sea, pulling down the ship with its lifeless arms.

A massive wave of water hit Avernus, and his consciousness washed into the darkness as his senses blackened.

But as fate would have it, he eluded the hands of death for now.

Among his silent dream, Avernus sensed someone talking to him from a distance. The voice kept getting closer and closer.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." A young and eager voice called to him, kicking his legs.

Avernus slowly opened his eyes. An enormous pain engulfed his skull as the light entered his sight. He raised his head to glance at the man; A skinny, short man with a missing front tooth was smiling at him. His ragged and vagrant outfit screamed one word: Pirate.

 "Great. Thieves." Avernus observed, mumbling.

The pirate smirked. "Boss, the pretty boy is awake!" He exited the room in a rush. Avernus grunted in anguish and tried to move his body, but ropes tied his hands and legs. Destroying his bindings was an easy task for him, but what could he do in the middle of nowhere with pirates?

Another much taller and friendlier figure entered the cabin and opened his arms. "Welcome to the Midgand, traveler." 

The man was wearing a purple coat with a purple hat and a pointy beard. Avernus sneered at his clothing. "Nice outfit. For a pirate."

The pirate turned to his subordinate in surprise. Avernus’ gall seemed to spark some interest.

"Benwick, look! Our man can bark!” He chuckled and turned to Avernus. “Such audacity! Wounded, broken, and tied up, and yet you do not beg for your life." The pirate crouched near him, shaking his head. “You are one interesting fish.”

“Shame you can’t differentiate between a shark and a fish.” Avernus mocked him, glaring from behind his messy hair.

"Even sharks are nothing but herrings in my grasp." The pirate clapped his hands. "Bring in the good stuff!"

Two pirates entered the room, carrying Avernus’ wooden chest and his scepter. Then another tall blond man followed them and sat on a nearby crate behind on the far side of the room. His attire consisted of tailored black trousers tightened with two belts and brown boots and gloves. He also wore an orange shirt, a loose white shirt, and a black waistcoat finished off by the long-dark business type jacket. He pulled a coin out of his pocket and tossed it in the air.

Avernus’ frowned eyes widened as the sensation of earth affinity washed over him alarmingly. The blond guy gaze suddenly fell upon Avernus, and they stared into each other’s eyes. A sense of imminent danger and dread pierced Avernus’ heart. That man had the eyes of death as the reaper himself was digging into his soul. The pirate leader followed Avernus’ gaze. As an average human, he couldn’t see the man, but he chuckled instantly.

"So you can see our ghost. That means you're a special one, pretty boy. Like one of those exorcists! This must be our lucky day, Benwick!"

The blond guy, now identified by Avernus as a malak, quickly took off and exited the room.

The young man shook his head at this coincidence. “Give me a break.”

The pirate captain picked his scepter and swept an endorsing gaze over it. "It's a lovely staff you got there, gold with ruby stones engraved in it. It is yours, I presume?"

"Maybe," Avernus replied in an indifferent tone and maintained his icy demeanor.

"You know I like something about you, and I don't know if it's the bravery or the foolishness.” The pirate captain reached his coat and pulled out a gray and silver pistol.

Avernus sighed at the sight of the gun. "An anti-dragon weapon in a pirate's hand, who would have thought…"

The pirate placed the barrel under his bloody and dirty chin, raising it. "You see, I'm aware of your handicrafts, and I have to say, your weapons are magnificent pieces of art!"

After staring for a few seconds, the pirate smirked and withdrew the gun. "I'm looking forward to adding this beauty of a staff and whatever you stashed in that chest to my collection. So until you can open your mouth and tell me how to use this weapon and the magic password for that chest, you are staying here as our guest."

With the pirates laughing out load, Avernus was left alone, broken and wounded in the dank corner of his cell. But little did they know what a sorcerer was capable of doing. Even without a malakhim bound to his spirit, he had some tricks up his sleeve. The mana that he had built up started to travel through his veins, fractured bones, and beaten muscles.

A day had passed. On the next midnight, the healing spell cured most of his wounds. Avernus conjured a minor fire arte and burned his binding. He raised on his feet and took a glimpse of the shore from the small window. He decided to put his escape plan in motion before the pirate’s ship distanced itself from the coast. Avernus silently trashed the cell's lock, breaking it.

He peeked over the wall: Two pirates were playing cards, oblivious to the fact that their prisoner was now on the loose. Avernus crept up behind them and quickly bashed their heads against the table, knocking them out cold. Avernus spotted his chest near their table, but his weapon was nowhere to be found, although he didn't need to know its location. After all, his weapon was bound to him. Avernus picked up the chest and moved outside. 

Avernus was stopped in his track as he saw the blond malak in black, sitting on the top of large crates, playing with his strange coin, and waiting for him.

"Can't get a night of sleep?" the malak asked, stoically in a threatening tone.

The sorcerer sneered, treating it as a joke, "Nah, didn't like the hospitality nor the smell. Also, it is too boring for me here, and I crave for action, malak."

The malakhim jumped down to the deck in a quick move. "That's a shame, but you are not going anywhere." He bumped his fist together, gazing threateningly at Avernus, "Get back to your room nicely, and I won't have to break your fingers and your nose."

Avernus rolled his eyes and let out a sigh before leveling a challenging stare at him. "Stand aside, malak. I'm not in the mood to play games. Besides, why do you care? They can’t even see you."

“You know nothing, stranger. They are an interesting bunch, and to me, they’re important.”

The Benwick guy ran outside of the crew quarters, watching Avernus standing there on the deck, alone. "What?! The prisoner has escaped!"

Avernus turned uncaringly toward the pirate. He knew that to them. It probably looked as if he was talking to himself.

"Last warning." The malak threatened, prompting Avernus to turn back to him.

Avernus shifted into his battle stance. "Alright, let's dance, malak."

He raised his arm and opened his hand. "Dreamshadow, come to me!"

A thundering sound roared from the captain's quarters. The malak, fully aware of what was happening, rushed and pulled his arm, ready to slam Avernus with his clenched fist. The great staff broke through the wooden walls, twirling like a windmill, it flew back and reached Avernus in time to block the malak’s punch. The force of malak’s fist connecting with the protective ward boomed around the deck. Avernus slid a few feet back.

"Damn it!" the malak gritted his teeth and pinned Avernus under his reaper’s gaze.

The malak threw another punch, and Avernus dodged it in time. Then, a solution crossed his mind.

"He’s powerful, but he is also an earth malak on the sea, which means…” Avernus grinned. 

"Bad mistake, my friend."

The young man's eyes started to glow bright white as magic waved through his body. "Colossal Surge!"

Suddenly, a massive wave towered over the ship and dived onto the deck, causing both Avernus and the malak to fall into the sea. Avernus quickly whipped his staff, and the water solidified under his feet. He turned back, only to see the malak paddling in the water for his dear life.  "Have a nice swim, you stupid malak!”

After a few more minutes of surfing, his mana ran out, in time for him to crash into the shore. His exhausted body couldn’t do more. After rolling over on the sand, he turned on his back and gazed into the sky.

"Welcome to Midgand, Mr. Diphda …" he said to himself, breathy.

Another day had passed—a day of non-stop walking into unknown jungles. With no map and no clue of where he was, Avernus desperately probed the area for any signs of civilization. During mid-day, he came across a small river, flowing with clear water. He dropped to his knees and dipped his filthy face into it. He pulled his head and ran a finger over his messy long hair.

"Water… I wished I had time to bathe myself, but I've wasted enough time already.”

His hearing picked up footsteps nearby. Avernus raised his head and scanned the area. To his surprise, he spotted a small blond girl, wearing white attire and holding a strange umbrella, was standing on the other side of the river, looking at him with a stony face. She glared, her eyes checking his body. 

Again, the vibes of another earth affinity malakhim radiated from her. Avernus squinted his eyes at her. “Is that another malakhim?”

She turned her back to him, looking like she shrugged him off coldly, and with slight disgust, she vanished into the jungle.

"Hey! You! Wait!" Avernus stood up, raising his arm, but it was already too late. As he picked up his chest, a wooden sign close to the river grabbed his attention.

“The village of Aball.” As he read the sign, a glimmer of hope sparked in him. “It seems lady luck is smiling on me--”

A supernatural howl pulled him out of his little comfort. His ears alarmed to an enemy that he fought its kind for the last six years of his life. Six years of untold responsibility would crush man’s soul. 

“A werewolf!” Avernus whirled his head toward the sound and sprinted in haste. He pushed away from the bushes widely to the side and jumped into a wide clearing. He suddenly found himself between several broken pieces of bottles and shattered crates. A traveling merchant had lost their stash.  Avernus raised his head only to lay eyes on a man, appeared to be the merchant himself, twitching and wincing, howling: His breathing became quick and ragged, his eyes turning red. Hooked claws burst through his fingers, dark fur rippling over his skin. Moments later, an enormous, jet-black wolf bared its teeth, howling a challenge toward Avernus.

Avernus stared at the Lycan’s long, vicious fangs. He dropped his chest and readied his staff. Duty called to him once more. He had no malak, and no blood was left in that pale body to fuel his mana. But he wasn’t a man to back down. Never.

His fingers fumbled around the middle of his staff, and the top extended with a metallic bang, and a pair of transparent scythe blades came out in parallel. Their surface was crystal clear and radiated with extreme magic built into it. “This is not a normal staff that any shepherd can wield. This is a gift from a malak.” Avernus heaved a heavy breath. “I shall grant you the eternal rest, poor soul.”

Avernus squared off against the daemon, catching his breath. “Come and meet your salvation!”

The werewolf stamped a gargantuan paw then charged forward, howling. Avernus pulled his long scythe-staff away and lunged to meet his opponent. The beast threw a clawed hand at him. Avernus shifted his body to the side, dodging its attack. Then sprang forward, slashing open the Lycan’s chest. The beast bellowed, blood gushing from two deep wounds. 

Avernus’ heart pounded furiously. Suddenly his sight hazed. His exhaustion finally took its toll on his broken body. He stumbled back. Avernus struggled to control his balance. But he barely caught a glimpse of a young village girl watching the fight from afar. Avernus whipped his arm violently. “Go! Get out of here!” 

Taking advantage of Avernus’ disorientation, the werewolf landed a solid punch on his chest, bowling him over. Avernus slid into the dirt and his body snapped against a rock, and his head cracked against the stone. Another pain surged in his back as he cried in agony. The daemon jumped on him and hammered viciously at his guard, landing blow after blow.

He was sensing his stamina flushing away. Avernus focused a sliver of his blood and streamed it into his weapon. The magic lit up his staff and enveloped it in a beam of light that blinded the daemon. “Veil’s Edge!”

His staff fired up his arte as a rainbow storm into the werewolf’s body. The daemon flew off of Avernus and slammed into the side of a tree, causing it to buckle outward. Avernus pulled stood up, his eyelids heavy and obscured by blood trickling from his forehead. Both adversaries, wounded and out of energy, prepared themselves for final showdown. The forest surrounded their warcries and howls for battle. Avernus launched himself at the daemon and slashed a full cut to the daemon’s stomach. 

They both stood still for a moment, locked into their fighting pose, before the daemon went limp, falling to the ground with a crash that shook the jungle beneath Avernus’ feet.

His staff fell as the blades retracted and disappeared. Avernus’ crippled body faltered, stumbling to the front as the last of his stamina escaped him. The world stilled, and once more and the darkness was his host. His senseless body crumpled to the ground.

Again, he floated in darkness. There was nothing, no light, no ground to stand on. Then, as if a dam had split open, several voices flooded him. He sensed a golden light flaring to life a few feet away. The light grew closer, swelling outward to form a scene. Avernus reached out to the light as it dimmed.

For a mere second, he was taken back to his body. He opened his eyes to see a pair of blazing eyes watching over him. A kind hand put a wet cloth on his forehead. He squinted his eyes at that shining face. “You need to rest, mister.” The warm voice soothed his mind, but he passed out again from the pain.

In the infinite darkness, Avernus looked for that fiery gaze, and his hand desperately reached to the light, to that warm, kind voice before dark consumed him once more.

[riley1cannon]

A Mother’s Day fic

This is from a couple years ago...

Daisies

RileyC

Summary: Alfred keeps a memory for Bruce; Damian shares it; Clark helps him make new ones...

I.  Past

Alfred Pennyworth fished the gift box out of the trash. It was a rather bold red, secured with a pink polka dot ribbon. There was to have been a daisy, Mrs. Wayne’s favorite, pushed through the ribbon along with a card when Master Bruce presented it to her this morning.

Afterward there was to be brunch at the club with Dr. Wayne, followed by an afternoon at the ballpark, “So Martha can watch her damn Knights,” Dr. Wayne, lifelong Yankees fan, had mock-grumbled, well within earshot of the lady.

“Hah!” Mrs. Wayne had returned. “You just watch, this is our year,” she declared. “Bet you anything.”

“Oh?” Dr. Wayne had looked at her with interest. “What will you bet?”

“The moon and the stars.”

“Hmm, nope, no good. I’ve got those already,” Dr. Wayne had said as he’d taken Mrs. Wayne into his arms.

Alfred had discreetly withdrawn.

He sighed now, thinking of all the plans that had been made, everything that would never be now.

He undid the ribbon and lifted the lid, shook his head with sorrow at the treasure nestled against a bed of cotton stuffing. Although he had helped tie the ribbon Alfred had not been witness to the gift young Master Bruce had placed within. Now he understood where that bottle of glue had gone, not to mention the smell of fresh paint that had puzzled the household a few days ago.

It was a picture frame, painted sea foam green, or as near as made no difference. Seashells had been glued around the frame with precision. A more precise brush had been used to add miniature starfish and an approximation of a coral reef, complete with octopus, down at the bottom, and a flourish of To Mother at the top. If the artist’s skill was a bit unrefined, Alfred had no doubt Mrs. Wayne would have perceived no imperfections, and would have counted it among her treasures indeed.

The picture it framed was from a tropical holiday the family had enjoyed this past winter. After a busy day on the beach spent recreating Wayne Manor as a sandcastle--”We don’t have a moat, darling--or a drawbridge.” “A gross oversight.”--the family were posed with their fantastical creation, smiling as broadly as though they had unearthed the remains of fabled Atlantis.

Alfred understood why Master Bruce had thrown this away. He’d want it someday, though, when the pain had ebbed and memories would be welcome.

He’d keep it for him until then.

II.  Present

“That’s Grandmother?” Damian took the old picture frame back from Bruce, examining the image preserved there forever in Kodachrome.

Damian had seen photos of his grandparents, to say nothing of their portrait, but those were all formal and a bit remote. Vacation snaps were something else entirely, and Bruce suspected that was the fascination for Damian. He could remember going through a photo album and being shocked at how young his parents were in those old snapshots and the bizarre things they were wearing. His mother in miniskirts and go-go boots? His father in bell bottoms and a Nehru jacket? Young minds were easily boggled by things like that.

Maybe it was time to haul out those old albums again? Always assuming Damian hadn’t already unearthed them in his excursions through the mansion.

“That’s her,” Bruce confirmed. He hadn’t seen this picture frame in, well, forever. He would have sworn he’d thrown it away, in fact. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective to work out who must have found it and kept it all these years. “Where did you find it?”

“In a box in the attic.” Damian turned the frame this way and that, casting a sideways look at Bruce every now and then, as though comparing himself to the image of Bruce in the photograph.

Bruce spread cream cheese over a toasted bagel.“Was the box locked?”

“Not really.”

Which no doubt meant that while a padlock may have been in place it had presented a piffling challenge.

“Did you make the frame?”

“I painted it and glued on the seashells.”

Damian ran a thumb over a clam shell. “And it was a present?”

Bruce nodded, sipped his coffee, part of him hoping the questions would stop. Of course they didn’t.

“Did she like it?”

Elbows propped on the table, Bruce rested his chin on his hands and tracked Alfred’s progress as he appeared with Damian’s waffles. “I never found out.”

Damian gave him a curious look, glanced at Alfred and seemed to gather something there. Understanding glimmered in his eyes at any rate. “Oh,” was all he said. He set the frame down and concentrated on his waffles.

Bruce sighed, caught Alfred’s eye, tried to interpret the silent message Alfred was sending him. “It’s okay to talk about it,” he said after a moment. Getting the words out hadn’t even been difficult. Maybe the old wounds had begun to heal. Not ripping them open again every five minutes probably helped. “I think she would have liked it.”

“I’ve no doubt at all,” said Alfred, quick with a napkin when Damian started to dribble syrup on the tablecloth. He was still trying to telegraph something to Bruce. “Mothers are like that.”

Attention still fixed on the waffles, Damian asked, “All mothers?”

A bell went off for Bruce then. Good thing, too: Alfred might have started in on semaphores next. “I’m not sure about all mothers,” he began carefully, venturing further at Alfred’s encouraging look, “but I do think most of them get a kick out of any homemade gift from their children.” Granted, he had a hard time picturing Talia gushing over a Popsicle birdhouse. Still, she had been known to surprise him. And knowing Damian, it wouldn’t be a birdhouse anyway.

Gaze locked on the waffles again, Damian nodded. He picked up the picture frame again, considered the old photo. “Maybe we could visit her.”

Bruce nodded. “We can do that. Shall we take her flowers? She always liked daisies…”

III. Later

“Alfred said I’d find you here.”

Ah: So that’s what that whoosh was awhile back. Bruce shifted a bit as Clark sat down beside him in the grass. “Thought you’d be in Smallville today.”

“I was. Now I’m here.”

“Hhn.” His fingers plucked restlessly at fresh, green shoots of grass as he watched Clark pick up the bouquet he and Damian had brought to the grave. It was a gaudier mix than Bruce might have picked out on his own, pink and white daisies jostling with yellow and blue primroses. He thought Damian’s grandmother would approve, however.

“You okay?”

Bruce breathed out, nodded. “I am, actually.”

“Maybe someday that won’t surprise you.”

He gave sideways look at Clark, sitting there and watching him so seriously, a hint of concern in those blue eyes, and smiled. “Maybe.”

Clark set the bouquet back down and nudged his shoulder against Bruce’s. “Should anyone be concerned that Damian’s working out how to make a crossbow with Popsicle sticks?”

Bruce’s lips twitched with another smile. “Probably not.”

“Okay. Thought I’d check.”

It was a beautiful Sunday. Starting to grow cool now, late in the afternoon, but with no hint of the rain forecasters had predicted. A good day to share memories. A good day to make them?

Clark nudged him again. Bruce turned a grumpy look on him. “What?”

“Introduce me.” Clark jerked his chin at the graves.

Bruce stared at him. “Introduce you?”

“Umm hmm.”

Bruce shook his head, rolled his eyes, humored the lunatic. “Mother, Father, this is Clark Kent. He’s a dork.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “And…?” he prodded, mobile eyebrows trying to convey something more.

“And we work together sometimes.”

Clark gave him a hard stare. As there was no glimmer of red, Bruce wasn’t worried. “It’s okay,” Clark said in a confidential way, addressing the graves. “He’s sensitive sometimes. The first time I saw him all dressed up I teased him a little bit and he was a long time getting over that.”

“That had nothing to do with being sensitive,” Bruce grumbled. “You pinged my ears and said they were cute.”

“Well, they were.”

Bruce didn’t know why he wasted time glowering at him. It never made an impression.

“I guess you could say we got off on a little bit of a wrong foot,” Clark was continuing. “But it worked out in the end. He’s my best friend now. Well, that’s not quite true, actually. We’re engaged to be married. I hope you and your husband approve, Mrs. Wayne. I love him a lot, even if he is the grumpiest thing that ever grumped.”

Bruce snorted.

Clark carried on. “Has he ever told you how it happened? I bet he hasn’t. Well, there was this cruise and he’d found out the Riddler was planning something. The only way to stop him, according to your son,” Clark looked at him, so much radiance in his smile Bruce had to turn away, “was for the two of us to go on the cruise undercover. Guess what our cover was?” Clark reached over and caressed the nape of his neck. “You never will. I couldn’t have. He decided the only way to catch the Riddler was for us to pose as a honeymooning couple.” He paused, nodded as though listening to a a reply. “No, it didn’t make a lot of sense to me, either, Mrs. Wayne, especially when it looked like he could have picked a lot of other people.”

Bruce looked back at him then, reached to catch Clark’s hand in his. “It made perfect sense, and no one else would have been suitable.”

Clark’s thumb rubbed over his knuckles, warming stiff joints. “Anyway, one thing and another, we wound up falling in love for real. Although to tell you the truth, Mrs. Wayne, I was more than halfway there already,” he confessed as Bruce leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“It was a Love Boat cruise. All the passengers were couples. Nygma would have been suspicious if notorious playboy Bruce Wayne showed up by himself.”

“You had Cat Grant reveal footage of our secret wedding on Good Morning Metropolis.”

“It had to look authentic. Nygma’s not an idiot. You’re telling it all wrong.”

“Well you tell it then.”

“Fine.” Bruce let Clark slip an arm around him and pull him close. It was getting chilly, after all. “Edward Nygma, the Riddler, was running a scam aimed at parting a lot of wealthy people from their money, Mother. I needed someone to play the part of a gullible, naive country bumpkin who’d just fallen off the turnip truck, and the first name that came to mind was…”

                                                            ~*~

“So my being good at solving riddles was completely irrelevant?”

Bruce sighed. Again. “It was not irrelevant. It just wasn’t the deciding factor.”

Clark cupped his chin, thumb lightly caressing Bruce’s bottom lip. “What was?”

“I…” He paused, grumbled, glanced at the graves, lingered on his mother’s. He knew what she’d say. She would look at him and smile, eyes lit up with it, and tell him, ‘Go for it, Bruce, go for it!’ Granted, the times she had encouraged him with that had been when he was learning to ride a bike and other challenges, but he thought it applied here too.

“Bruce?” Those blue eyes were clouded with uncertainty now, and that couldn’t be allowed to stand.

Bruce slipped a hand up to curve around Clark’s neck, fingers playing with the curls at his nape. “You weren’t the only one halfway there already,” he confessed and watched those clouds clear, watched Clark light up again. “I thought I needed a reason to get you there, though.”

“And asking me out on a date never crossed your mind?”

He pulled a face. “I couldn’t imagine you’d say yes.”

“Idiot,” Clark murmured. He kissed him on the forehead.

“I think that has been established, yes.” He felt a drop of rain plop on his head, tipped his head back to scan the sky. “Looks like the rain’s coming.”

Clark nodded. “We’ve got time,” he said with farmboy confidence. He got up, lent a hand to Bruce. “I could fly us to the house.”

“Or we could walk.”

Clark waved an expansive arm. “After you.” He looked back at the graves. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Wayne. Mr. Wayne. I’ll take good care of him.”

Bruce rolled his eyes again.

“I think your mom likes me,” Clark said as they headed off along the well-worn path. “Not sure about your dad.”

“He probably thinks you’re an alien gold-digger.” Bruce slung an arm across Clark’s shoulders.

Clark slipped an arm around Bruce’s waist as they walked on. “What does my being alien have to do with it?”

More fat drops of rain plopped down. 

                           ======= 

The daisy’s message is one of hope and renewal…