#jade feasting on your nightmares!!!!

[merakiui]

fighting the urge to write yet another prompt with the fish, but i genuinely think this one could fit jade (and his monstrous appetite) so well. orz once more, i would like to know what everyone thinks in the poll below. :D

[wangxianficfinder]

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 5th

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1. ITMF WangXian sex pollen/something forces them to have sex fics please! Preferably fics where they both enjoy being in a situation where they have to woohoo, not necessarily angsty fuck-or-die. Thank you!

one word from you by mme_anxious (E, 5k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, Sex Pollen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Mutual Pining, Feels, Mutual Masturbation, dubious compliance to worldbuilding)

Stainless by Fahye (E, 6k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Yuletide Treat)

🧡 Brilliant Mistake by brooklinegirl (E, 53k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sex Pollen, Mpreg, dubcon, Modern Cultivators, Dubious Medical Science, Mojo's post)

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2. itmf fics where WWX is officially adopted into the Jiang clan and so he, as the eldest, is sect heir / eventually becomes clan leader? Thank you!

Something From Nothing by sami (E, 55k, WangXian, XianLi, QingLi, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Character Resurrection, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Assassin's Creed Fusion, Kinda, Assassin's Creed Vibes, Wangxian is endgame, very minor other relationships, Canon-Typical lots of things many canonical character deaths, Slow Burn, specifically for wangxian, no infidelity, no partner betrayal, Angst with a Happy Ending) not on point for 2 but possibly still relevant to interests (since the point of JFM betrothing WWX and JYL is so the sect leader after WWX will still be JFM's grandchild)

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3. hello! for the next itmf i would love to read fics where wwx solves the nie cultivation problem while nmj is still alive. thank you!

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

❤️ three surgeries and a mercy kill by MarbleGlove (T, 11k, medical procedures, fix-it, Demonic Cultivation, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Self-Indulgent, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It) JC travels back to SSC era and after he's done fixing WWX, WWX goes ahead and fixes the Nies which was in fact one of the goals of the whole venture

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4. I am looking for fics where Wuxian saves Wangji from a food allergy, preferably by dramatically slapping the food out of Wangji's hand in a public feast. Or vice versa, Wangji watching out for Wuxian. Thanks a bundle!

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5. Hi there! It's ITMF for this week if I'm not late. I really appreciate the work you guys put in for us. Thanks a lot. This time I'm searching for something that's a little longer, complete and really good fluff and angst under the following categories-

A) longer canon divergence fics, wangxian ofc, can be jc friendly or not, bamf wwx and lwj..like something that everyone likes.

B) some of the mods favourite with yunmeng jiang trio and twin jades. Some good talks between the siblings. WWX learning to believe that he's not expendable and an important member of the jiang sect.

Yeah I understand it's a big ask so take your time! Thanks again!! @ffaddictsrn

5A)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character)

❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, AU after cold spring, Political Marriage, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, LQR bashing (not really), POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Eventual Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, JC is actually a lot better than canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, YZY bashing (again not completely))

The Beast of Gusu series by Netrixie (T&M, 212k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Wolf WWX, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

❤️ in case of fire, break glass by Jenrose (T, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, unless I hate them, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius Inventor WWX, NHS Finds His Calling, No Women Die)

The Twin Blades of Yunmeng by GhostySword, ofmindelans (T, 89k, JC & WWX, wangxian, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, BAMF JC, protective LWJ, Golden Core Reveal, Swords and Feelings, WWX Resurrection, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Embedded Images, Sect Leader QS)

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Canonical Accidental Baby Acquisition, Families of Choice, References to Depression, Happy Ending, I Swear To God I’m Giving Them A Happy Ending, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Well Except WN But He Was Already Dead So, Fix-It of Sorts)

a bow for the bad decisions by curiositykilled (T, 154k, Yunmeng Siblings, WangXian, ChengQing, Angst with a Happy Ending, eventually, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except WWX, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, POV WWX, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Temporary Character Death, Heavy Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Body Horror, nmj still dies (sorry))

Until It's Dark by suzvoy (M, 120k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, LWJ Finds Out, Pining, Fluff and Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, Hair-pulling, Hair-pulling in chapter 23)

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6. For the next itmf I hoped anyone had some wwx not eating enough fanfics, please and thank you!

💖 the absence of hunger by parsnipit (M, 27k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Starvation, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Body Worship, Praise Kink, ft. WWX's really fucked up relationship with food, PTSD, Flashbacks, Blood and Injury, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Cannibalism)

a kind of emptiness by ScarlettStorm (E, 11k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Eating Disorders, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorder Recovery, low angst, Happy Ending, seriously in spite of the tags this fic is very soft, Tender smut, Frottage, Praise Kink, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 64k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad) Wei Ying's undernourishment is a subplot

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7. HI!! Itmf fics where modern meets canon or something like modern wangxian meet canon wangxian @yesibest

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 80k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parallel Universes, Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions)

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8. itmf a fic where wangxian adopts xy and a-yuan and those two grow up as brothers

Keep My Shadow Alive by namelessdeer (M, 81k, WIP, WangXian, Novel canon with CQL sprinkles, Found Family, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, XY-centric, POV Multiple, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Trauma, Dubious Morality, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, adhd wwx, autistic lwj, Unreliable Narrator, Chronic Pain, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow To Update, rated for violence and heavy themes, Grief/Mourning) doesn't quite fit as the relationships aren't formalized and A-Yuan still has his Wen family, but the vibes are there

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9. I'm in the mood for... time travel fanfics where they DON'T end up in their younger bodies??? whichever canon is fine, angst or crack I don't mind ^^;

I just really want fics where they co-exist with their younger selves because I don't know how to tag it separately from the "wake up in their younger self" fics @lovewly

How to get anxiety from time trave and not mess up (by fall out boy) by SerlinaBlack (T, 5k, WangXian, LSZ & LJY & WWX & LWJ, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Fluff, Family Fluff, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX, Confused Children, they never saw their parents fight, they think they'll never get married now, their fathers are also confused, If SS has one hater, it is LJY, if SS has no hater, LJY has died, pray for LQR, he has a rough time ahead, WWX in WWX's Body, Canon JC)

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, Voyeurism)

Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 134k, WIP, WangXian, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Time Travel Fix-it)

this is the link to the latest installment of an ongoing Tumblr series where JC time travels to pre-canon in his adult body. Earlier installments are linked at the top, I recommend starting from the beginning

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics) The Junior Quartet time travels in their adult bodies

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10. Anybody know any Jin Ling centric fics in which he is the protagonist of a YA style story? What I had in my head was a harry potter AU type thing where he's the chosen one/boy who lived or whatever but tbh anything is fine as long as I get to see my boy on the cool teenage adventure with his friends he deserves @axemurderer1347

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11. for the next ITMF i want to read any fics that explore WWX's dream of becoming a farmer! please <3 @notenoughgatorade

Seasons of Love by Witch_Nova221 (G, 24k, WangXian, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Caring LWJ, POV WWX, Falling In Love, Self-Esteem Issues, Finding home, Post-Canon, Soft, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Happy Ending)

🔒 To heal and nurture by Aki_no_hikari (G, 11k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Memories, Married Couple, Domestic Fluff, Festivals, Healing, Trauma Recovery, Light Angst, but mostly this is wwx living all of his cottagecore fantasies because he deserves it)

And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Memory Loss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Screw the Cultivation world tbh, The Lan precepts deserves better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, domestic life, Social justice boyfriends wangxian, Happy Ending) it's a very small part of the story but Wei Ying fulfills his dream of farming at the end of And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness

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12. Thank you so much for all you do! I just noticed that you'll accept non-Wangxian requests and I have an itch that I would like scratched. Thank you so much for all that you do and thank you for feeding all of my Wangxian happiness~ You guys are awesome.

Itmf a songxue or songxuexiao time-travel fix it fic (please no xuexiao or songxiao only fics)

The Shadow That Remains Of You by tenddisorder (E, 120k, SongXiaoXue)

Home by Anonymous (T, 30k, SL/XY, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It, XY is Bad at Feelings, POV XY, Cannibalism, Mysophobic SL, Aromantic Asexual XXC, References to JGY's morally gray nature from XY's biased perspective, References to NHS's morally gray nature from XY's biased perspective, Transmigration, Canon Divergence, Fierce Corpse SL, Sharing a Body, Found Family, XY Redemption, Angst with a Happy Ending)

till then my windows ache by zippkat (E, 7k, SL/XXC/XY, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, time loops, Time Travel Fix-It, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Temporary Character Death)

promises, promises by Anonymous (E, 110k, SL/XXC/XY, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Age Regression/De-Aging, Time Travel Fix-It, Slow Burn, Mix of canons, twisted feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, probably some dead dove elements tbh, ive never been good at judging what is or isnt dead dove, its gonna be a pretty gruesome and messed up story in places tho, Angst with a Happy Ending, mentions of all sorts of child abuse, very slow burn, Past Sexual Abuse)

Awaken by Beautiful_Palace (T, 68k, WangXian, JC/QS, JYL/JZX, JGY/NMJ, LXC/WQ, NHS/WN. SL/XXC/XY, MM/JZN, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Indulgent, sort of bittersweet, depending on the point of view, Cultivation Headcanon Bullshit, Slow Build, Hurt/Comfort, Some get a chance some don't)

Under The Wheel by Silvestris (M, 58k, A-Q & SL & XXC & XY, SL/XXC/XY, character death (but they get better!), suicide (but they get better!), depression (but they… uh. they’re working on it), Canon-Typical levels of Violence, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Whump, Non-Detailed Gore, Time Travel, time loops, XY is a very unreliable narrator, XXC’s ongoing battle against shrubbery, Angst with a Happy Ending)

your life, my life by Anonymous (E, 6k, SL/XXC/XY, WIP. Graphic Depictions of Violence, Modern, Bodyswap, Threesome - M/M/M, modern au XY swaps places with canon XY, things go badly for him, Both of him)

Searching For A New Sunrise by CeNedraRiva (M, 11k, SL/XY, WIP, Time Loop, Time Travel Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Romance, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Falling In Love, XXC dies so many times)

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13. Itmf for fics where wwx takes the 33 lashes instead of lwj

Thank you ❤️

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14. Hi guys! <333 I just found out about this blog and it's my favourite thing! Keep up the good work guys!

Can you guys recommend some lan clan bashing against wwx and the juniors and lwj being protective of him. I once read a fic like this and I fell in love with it.

So if y'all have any recs like this, please recommend.

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Married Wangxian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, And his research assistant Lan ducklings, LQR is not a good educator, the kids are alright, WWX did online learning before it was cool)

🔒💖 When has silence saved anyone? by Vrishchika (T, 6k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, post-canon, LXC  critical, family feels, angry LWJ & LSZ, LXC gets scolded)

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, POV LXC, Post-Canon, LSZ has some complicated emotions, we're being a little unfair to the lans here, but sometimes life isn't fair, Yunmeng brothers, it's not prominent enough to go into the main tag but it sure is there, Author Is a JC Apologist)

🔒 hills and rivers Series by LtLJ (T, 70k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, the family that hunts demons together stays together, and doesn’t murder each other, Case Fic, BAMF WWX, Romance, Family Drama, Family Issues, Happy Ending, PTSD issues, Body Horror, But just a little, canon typical curses, Bad Parent LQR Spoilers for The Living Dead, YLLZ WWX, Angst, Kidnapping, Trauma, References to WWX's Canon Character Death, Canon Temporary Character Death, BAMF WN, Action/Adventure, Curses, Scary Monsters, WN's Guitar Riff, Power-up, Violence, Corpses, Death in general, mention of BSSR/LY, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Finding a home, Not Fitting In, recovering from trauma)

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15. Hi, do you accept nsfw requests? (Yes, NSFW requests are ok also ~Mod L) If you don't that's fine, I am new here so I don't know but if you do, can you recommend fics with married wangxian having intimate moment but someone intrudes in on them.

It's fine even if they aren't married but in a relationship or neither, any will do.

Thank you, y'all are doing great work!

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) Lan Qiren walks in on Wei Ying & Lan Zhan during an intimate moment before their wedding in chapter 25

happy not knowing by plonk (Not Rated, 16k, WangXian, Canon Era, Canon Divergence, Established Relationship)

Overwhelming Enthusiasm by Shadaras (M, 1k, LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, WangXian, POV Outsider, Aftermath of Violence, Coitus Interruptus, Good Uncle LQR, Nerd WWX, Family Feels) A short, funny story for 15, which features Lan Qiren finding the naked couple in the library.

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16. Hello 👋🏻

For itmf can I have rec where jc or lxc misunderstands that wwx is being abused by lwj but it was just in fact their rough love making (consensual). I just think it would be so funny to see their reactions.

Life is Very Long by Vamillepudding (T, 12k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JL & WWX, Post-Canon, Comedy, Protective JC, Protective JL, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX, Protective LWJ) Jin Ling & Jiang Cheng believe Wei Ying is being abused by Lan Zhan

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17. Hi! I once read a fic, idk the name but I want something like that so

Itmf, post cannon, established wangxian

Wwx gets really soft and doesn't stay alert of his surroundings when he's with lwj and someone notices this and calls him out.

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Farms PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock & @ohwynne SUMMARY: Wynne and Ariadne try some of the food at the party! CONTENT WARNING: N/A

They felt a kind of giddy they hadn’t felt in a while. Wynne walked around Prickly Pear Acres with Ariadne on their side, a smile on their face as the world around them was covered in soft glee. It should be like this always, they thought. It should last forever, this feeling of hope — because they felt hopeful. If Ariadne and them could be happy here, in spite of everything, then the world continue to spin for the better. If this was possible, for a day, then more days like this would come.

“There!,” they exclaimed, pointing ahead at a table. “I knew it was here somewhere.” The it in question was the food that was spread out, all of it looking very delicious. Their appetite had been bad these past months – worse, somehow, than it had been before – but their high spirits had made them hungry. “It all looks good. I don’t even know where to start.”

—

This felt normal. Or at least, as close to normal as was possible. Going to a party with your partner, at a party thrown by someone else you loved. It couldn’t be so bad if this was possible, right? Ariadne squeezed Wynne’s hand softly. It was possible to have peace and comfort and love and all those kinds of good things.

She moved her gaze from Wynne to where they were pointing when they commented. “Oh, yes – it does look amazing!” Not as good as a whole buffet of candy would’ve been, but delightful nonetheless. “Maybe start at what seems like the end? I dunno. I just – we should start together.” No more splitting up. “But we can get stuff and just share it all? If you want. Whatever you want.” She kissed them, soft and gentle. “Happy to follow your lead.”

— 

The idea to start at the end would have never crossed their mind and so they beamed at Ariadne, always in awe of her creative mind. Wynne nodded, “Yes, we start at the end. And we get a bit of everything! I don’t want to miss out on anything.” They were determined to enjoy it all, to feel their stomach fill and expand without it feeling like a battle.

Wynne went and got two plates, handing one to Ariadne and starting to load various colored foods onto their own. “Who do you think made all this? I — does Monty also eat this kind of food?” It was a nicer thought than imagining the kind farmer eating brains. They frowned a little, wondering if it was better to have to cause nightmares and without helping it, they thought of Jade. They shook the thoughts off. “It all looks so good.”

— 

“Uh, I think Monty can, but I don't know if this is like, top choice.” Based on talking with Caleb, and what she knew (which wasn’t much, but this was a party and she was going to be happy about things), he’d have preferred brains or stuff but that also wasn’t necessarily ideal conversation with her very much human partner. Not right now. Ariadne grinned. “Oh, absolutely. I love how you think, as always.”

She took a plate from Wynne. “It looks amazing, and I’m starving – I mean –” she sucked in her lips. “Like, for real – for this. Not for – not other stuff.” Ariadne shifted from one foot too the other, rather awkwardly, before spooning a bunch of noodles covered in something red onto her plate. “What are you going for first?”

—

“No, I guess not,” they said as they regretted bringing up the farmer’s diet. Zombies ate brains and other human meaty things, which Wynne tried not to judge them about but was still very discomforting. It wasn’t like they could change their nature, after all, and Monty seemed to be doing something good about it … but even so. They had a human brain. They didn’t want to use it to think about how it would make a good snack.

They also went for the noodles, “Then we have to feast. So you’re not starving any more,” Wynne said, before also putting some bits of meat in thick sauce on their plate. “I’m going for this first, I think.” Some curry also made its way onto their plate, and they used their spoon to have a first bite. It didn’t take long for their face to fall and tears to appear in their eyes.

—

Ariadne shrugged off the idea of what Monty ate. It wasn’t good to talk about with humans – not that humans were any less than she was, but it seemed crass and she very much did not want to be crass. Or upset Wynne.

“Yeah, exactly. We’ve gotta – it’ll be so good, I know it!” She scooped a few more items onto her plate before taking a bit in tandem with Wynne. Except that tears were starting to pour from their eyes and Ariadne quickly set her plate down. “Are you – okay? What’s the matter??”

— 

At the estate, they had never eaten very spicy food. The Welsh kitchen was great, but not known for being exceptionally flavorful and especially not spicy. And thus, Wynne had no tolerance for it at all. Though perhaps even if they had, they’d have ended up with tears in their eyes.

Ariadne was looking at them like something was terribly amiss and they tried to make their face look normal, even if it was growing red. They gestured at the food, gasping rather than saying something, offering no response for their girlfriend to go off. Eventually they just gave a thumbs up to make sure she knew they were okay.

— 

“Okay – it’s just too spicy? Or like, really spicy?” Ariadne didn’t tend to eat very spicy things, and so she wasn’t sure if it would interact with her taste buds differently on account of the whole being dead thing. She figured it did, at least for people like Monty, and so that was good. 

She took a small bite of her food, swallowing quickly. “We should see if Monty’s got any ice cream. I think vanilla does a good job of cutting hot – like spicy stuff. But you are hot, also. Like, not spicy, like – not like I eat you. Well.” She shook her head. “You know what I mean. It’s still a fun idea for food, and I’m glad you came to the party with me. I know I wouldn’t wanna do this without you.”

— 

Beads of sweat formed on their head the way they had when across of Cass and Wynne wiped at their forehead, “Spicy,” they said, “Too spicy.” Their tongue felt like it was on fire and they felt the whole of their throat burning. But it wasn’t too bad, if only because of Ariadne across from them.

Laughter spilled from stinging lips, their entire mouth – if not body – on fire and somehow still amused and endeared with their girlfriend. “That sounds good, ice cream. And you, you too sound good — you’re adorable,” they said, hiccuping from both laughter and spice. “It’s a good party. You’re hot, too.” Wynne wiped at their eyes, the back of their hand wet with sweat and tears. “Even hotter than this.”

— 

“I’ll advise Monty to put some warnings up next time he has a party where people with legit taste buds come.” She set her plate down and took hold of Wynne’s hand. “If I kiss it, does it make it better?” She pressed her lips against theirs, willing their lips to open, hoping to let the coolness of her tongue soothe theirs.

Then they were laughing and Ariadne couldn’t help but laugh too. Life was so good with them, and it was good that they were here, together, not in separate places both in danger. Together, she was certain, they could handle anything. “I’m glad I sound good. You should come over after, if you want?” She kissed them again. “You’re the hottest though. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

—

“I just am not very good at spicy food I think,” they admitted hoarsely. Ariadne’s lips on their own were sweet and cold, but it wasn’t enough to completely get rid of the hellish sensations taking over their body. Wynne looked at her when they pulled back and found they had no complaints, however. “Better.” 

If this was what could go wrong at this party, then they had no complaints. Eating food that was too spicy was far from the end of the world, far from the worst thing that could occur. Wynne found themself infinitely glad that it was something like this they were crying over, “That sounds amazing. And if I’m the hottest, then you’re the … coolest and prettiest.” They smiled, a little dopey from both the heat and Ariadne herself.

—

“You’re plenty good at other things.” She grinned. “Besides, being good at spicy food… could be like, some cool trick, but I don’t think it really matters in the grand scheme of things.” Ariadne couldn’t help but keep on grinning. “I always want to make things better for you, you know.” She looked at Wynne with a soft expression in her eyes.

They both deserved something good, and this was something good, and that was the biggest relief she’d had in a long while. “Well, fine, I’ll agree with that, but only because it’s impossible to disagree with you.” Ariadne moved closer to them again, pressing another kiss to their lips. “You make the world – my world – but the world too – so bright. You are my sun, you know that?”

—

“I am good at other food. Maybe I can start cooking more spicy to also get food – I mean good at it,” they said, hiccuping once more. Wynne was beaming at Ariadne, at the small gestures made for them. This was so small and almost meaningless in the grand scheme of things they and Ariadne had done for each other, but it still mattered. “I know.”

It was impossible to resist Ariadne when she was like this, all sweat words and soft gestures. Wynne giggled against her lips, “C’mon, we’re in public,” they said, cheeks still red and the cause one of various things around them. “Let’s find somewhere else.” They took her hand, lips tingling and an expression of infinite fondness on their face as they pulled Ariadne to somewhere more private

[wyked-ao3]

giant oc questionnaire

Thank you for the open tag @the-golden-comet

answering will be oisìn, jade, braith and Daimhín from TPKODR

What is your favorite thing to do to avoid responsibility?

Daimhín: well don't tell Galen but sometimes It direct it his way.

Oisìn: you can avoid it?

Braith: well they can't hold you responsible for something if they are dead.

Jade: read a book

If you could choose anyone in the world to be your sibling who would it be?

Daimhín: perhaps Coinín although in a way she is

Oisìn: that isn't by blood already Mal and Taz definitely.

Braith: blank look (might change eventually but I doubt it)

Jade: anyone who is not already related to me.

What is the most sublime thing you have ever eaten and why?

Oisìn: duck it was a royal feast...not a fan of it

Daimhín: Heather's potato casserole.

Braith: quail

Jade: most memorable and disgusting was the tentacles of a kraken most delicious was a chocolate cake...

What was the worst day of your life?

Oisìn: I have to pick one? I have like five tying for first place although the deadmans sea incident haunts me a little more than the rest of them.

Daimhín: my pa's death

Braith: the day those I considered family left me behind to die.

Jade: *bitter laughing* can I say most of it?

What’s your worst nightmare?

Oisìn: I don't talk about that with my crew, why would I tell you?

Daimhín: my crew dying.

Jade: always being trapped.

Braith: returning to those I considered family

If a monster asked you your worst nightmare what would you tell it and why?

Oisìn: nothing.

Daimhín: a lie so it couldn't use it against me

Jade: been there done that. It gets boring after the first few times.

Braith: I would send it back to it's maker in a box

Would you give away secret information if tortured?

Oisìn: if my crew was tortured most likely if I was tortured no

Daimhín: only if I set a trap

Jade: if it would take my mother down...you wouldn't have to torture me

Braith: how do you think I got my scars? The answer is no even if they are traitors

Be honest, Who could you trust most with a secret?

Oisìn: Taz, Daimhín (eventually)

Daimhín: most of my crew can be trusted but Adoh, Galen and Oisìn.

Jade: no one (he will get there eventually)

Braith: Morana she's crazy

You have been caught somewhere you shouldn’t be! Quick, what is your excuse?

Oisìn: I was ordered to be here

Daimhín: well lads it seems we have a problem. *Proceeds to run or kill depending on the situation*

Jade: my luck strikes again

Braith: good thing I brought my knives..want to know a secret?

How good is your sleep schedule?

Oisìn: laughing

Daimhín: glaring

Jade: usually pretty good.

Braith: I get the hours required

Do you have any siblings? If so, is your relationship good?

Oisìn: it's complicated

Daimhín: I'm an only child

Jade: I'm the middle child of five... What is a step beyond horrible?

Braith: only child.

What’s the toughest time you had to endure growing up?

Oisìn: my father being gone a lot and joining the fleet at 16 under duress

Daimhín: growing up with pirates and my father's death leaving me captain...along with the title pirate king

Jade: I'm not giving you the details...lets just say I don't like my family

Braith: I was raised by assassin's.

What’s your relationship with your family like?

Oisìn: they are dead

Daimhín: my crew is my family they are doing great.

Jade: hysterical laughter

Braith: didn't know them.

Do you have any hobbies? If so, what ones?

Oisìn: I like to draw and woodworking

Daimhín: star gazing and battle strategy

Jade: nope unless you count reading

Braith: sharpening my blades and metal work

Do you dream often? What do you dream about?

Oisìn: nightmares

Daimhín: well a pair of forest green eyes seem to be haunting me

Jade: of freedom occasionally

Braith: yes

Have you ever been in love?

Oisìn: with an annoying pirate king named Daimhín..perhaps

Daimhín: yes Oisìn

Jade: glaring

Braith: why would I tell you that?

What is your least favorite thing in the world?

Oisìn: royalty

Daimhín: fae royalty

Jade: my family

Braith: does the assassin king count as a thing?

What is your pet peeve?

Oisìn: being replaced

Daimhín: being ignored

Jade: being kidnapped

Braith: being told I can't kill someone

Would you consider yourself different?

Oisìn: yes

Daimhín: is anyone really normal?

Jade: definitely and I'm reminded of it frequently.

Braith: yep.

How far would you go to save a loved one?

Oisìn: I have killed for less

Daimhín: I'm a pirate king

Jade: I'd do what it took

Braith: this is my kinda party *pulling out more blades*

Would you team up with your worst enemy if it was your only option?

Oisìn: yes

Daimhín: no

Jade: unimpressed look

Braith: sure but they best watch their back

What is the worst insult you can give?

Oisìn: I'm not sure

Daimhín: suggest they are a part of the bloodymacrals

Jade: call them blood family

Braith: your not even worth a dagger to the back.

What is the nicest thing someone could say to you?

All four are silent for this one

Are you a jealous person?

Oisìn: yes, I am...just ask Daimhín

Daimhín: yes, I don't share what is mine.

Jade: I suppose maybe

Braith: I can't be jealous if the competition is dead.

Have you ever committed a crime?

Oisìn: laughing to hard to answer

Daimhín: pirate king did ye forget?

Jade: a few in self defense

Braith: passing out from laughter

Are you neat or messy?

Oisìn: neat

Daimhín: organized messy

Jade: neat

Braith: depends

How do you feel about crying? Let it out or hold it in?

Oisìn: hold it in

Daimhín: let it out with those you trust

Jade: emotions are used against you so hold them all in

Braith: if I'm crying run...you might survive

Who do you live for? Why?

Oisìn: taz, mal and a few pirates

Daimhín: my crew

Jade: my family would just bring me back from the dead..again

Braith: myself

Who has betrayed you most?

Oisìn: queen Kia but Coinín is a close second

Daimhín: that's a secret

Jade: laughing

Braith: those I considered family.

What style of accessories do you wear? Is it willingly?

Oisìn: I have a pocket watch and my daggers, I do like necklaces and yes

Daimhín: my hat, yes

jade: choker and bracelet's, no although if it was not this set them perhaps

Braith: my blades. Yes

+ Open tag

TPKODR tag list @thatuselesshuman @gioiaalbanoart @lychhiker @goth-automaton

@thecomfywriter @evilwriter37 @saebasanart @the-golden-comet

@mauannacreates @kind-lion @alinacapellabooks @kuebiko-writing

@kaeru483 @differentnighttale @theink-stainedfolk

@unstableunicornsofasgard @mysticstarlightduck

[gx-gameon]

Episode 34

Jaden is already having nightmares about losing duel and dooming his friends to the shadow realm. Get this boy some therapy now.

No we are only on episode 34 of this series and the boy already feels so much pressure to be the hero.

Syrus bring up the nightmare and reminding Jaden of it. Chumley glaring at him.

I love the difference between Syrus, Chazz and Chumley having fun and messing around vs Jaden having all these dark thoughts about his current situation. About how dueling is no longer a game.

All the duel spirits leading their partners to the ‘spirit festival’

Why is there a portal to the spirit world in the boys bath???

You know au Jaden nearly lost it when he hear his Oto-san’s voice only to find out it was Kaiba man

I have a strong head cannon that Seto want a card that helped bring Blue eyes out faster, Pegasus made the card (a colab between the two) to Kaiba when Jaden was still young. He made it with Jaden’s love of heroes in mind and to poke fun at Kaiba. Seto hated it when he first saw it and wanted a redesign but then little Jaden squealed and was so pumped that Seto was a super hero!!! And you know it is a good card to get blue eye on to the field so he might as well keep it. Never mind the fact that Jaden loves it, that doesn’t factor in at all….

So when Jaden turns to find Kaiba man there he almost wants to cry. He’s under so much stress. And he really wants his Dads but he doesn’t want to put them in danger and now this duel spirit is here which is a reflection of his Oto-san and it’s just a lot

But then all of those feeling go as he jumps to the conclusion that this is a shadow rider trick. And he’s furious because that’s his Oto-san’s card and now he has to duel it for his life?? How many more of his families cards are going to try and kill him? Joey’s Jinzo and Red Eyes, Seto’s vampire lord, the Ishtar tomb keepers. And now Kiaba man!!!

And it doesn’t help that Kaiba man won’t tell him if he’s a shadow rider. No he just challenges the kid. Jaden of course accepts and then this man stands there and reads Jaden for filth. “I sense fear a deep fear of what losing will cost you and your friends” ratting out Jaden’s fear and insecurities to his friends

And then pulls out Blue eyes on the kid. I know cannon Jaden is just shocked by the card but Au Jaden is about to face his Oto-san’s spiritual protector being wielded by a ‘shadow rider’ who looks and sounds just like his Oto-san he’s not having a great time

I love that cannon Kaiba made Kaiba man that’s hilarious

“I summon myself” got to love Gx

“Witness the beast that will feast upon your souls.” Not the best thing to say to Jaden right now.

Au Jaden knows these cards, he knows these strategies. He grew up watching Oto-san defeat enemy after enemy using them. He’s dueled against them before. But he’s never won against his Oto-san before. And unlike his duel against Yugi’s deck this isn’t some copy cat taking the deck of a soon. No Kaiba man is dueling just like his Oto-san does.

Jaden is giving it all he’s got. He’s got Edgeman out and skyscraper. He’s able to take out one of the blue eye impressing everyone even Chazz.

But he’s full of fake confidence “I am so over my fear” he says while sweating. “The trick is to take what you’re afraid of and not let it happen.” Oh sweet boy no.

Kaiba man is immediately on him. He only beat one blue eyes. “The fate of you and your friends is still in the balance and you have to accept that and face it head on.” “This is how a true duelist lives not afraid of defeat but always ready to accept it this is the nature of dueling.”

Love Chazz being the one to recognize that the deck is the same as Seto Kaiba’s.

Blue eyes ultimate dragon!!! The fact that Jade dreamed of this dragon. Au Jaden has to be going crazy.

“If you won’t except defeat I’ll force it on you.” Defusing ultimate to get out three blue eyes is crazy.

Winged Kuiroh is all worried for his partner. And the first thing Jaden does is cry out for his friends

Oh Jaden was hurt in the duel.

“Defeat is nothing to be scared of Jaden. What matters is if you can get up after.” The whole duel was to comfort Jaden “are you afraid anymore.” “No im not.” “Because you faced it and you’re okay. And so are they.”

Kuriboh the one who brought them there just to help out Jaden.

Syrus why are you saying that these spirits are just cards.

I love Jaden thanking winged kuiboh.

In the au this is going to go crazy. At this point Jaden has faces his Dad’s/Uncle Atem’s deck (had to win it back form a theif) his Uncle Joey’s cards (Jinzo and Red Eyes) in shadow duels. He has to be freaked out. The cards that have always protected him are now being used against him, sometimes with his very soul on the line.

He’s stressed and afraid of what will happen to him and his friends if he doesn’t win. And this all leads to his nightmare about Blue Eyes Ultimate Dragon attacking him and killing him and his friends. His Oto-san’s vampire lord was just used against him and it’s the only Ace from the original DM deck he hasn’t faced yet.

(He can’t even imagine facing off against Silent Magician or Gandora)

But he has this horrible nightmare and he just can’t shake it.

Winged Kuriboh reaches out to the other spirits about his partners dream and how to help him. His calls make it all the way to Yugi and Seto’s monsters. They are outraged at the thought of someone using them against Jaden and deeply hurt that Jaden now fears them.

They reach out to their duelist and while Yugi and Seto want to rush to their son and fix his problems for him they know they can’t. So they do the next best thing.

In a very Kaiba move, Seto send Kaiba man. He instructs him to use his deck and to not hold back. Jaden has to face this fear head on. He never wanted Blue eyes to be used against him or his family, so Jaden dream really hurts him to. If there is one card Jaden can trust will never hurt him it’s Blue Eyes. Sending Kaiba man will do two things. Show Jaden it’s okay to lose, and that blue eyes will never actually harm Jaden.

At the end of the duel Jaden is exhausted and his chest hurts from anxiety and his winds from Shadowrider and Camula, but he has no new injuries for Blue Eyes attacks.

Yes Winged Kuriboh set everything up but Kaiba man reports to Kaiba. He knows all about the duel.

Also question why do you think the writers let Jaden beat a copy of Yugi’s deck but lose to Kaiba’s like use different circumstances and lessons but it is interesting to look at.

Episode 35

Chazz if the goal is to go back to obelisk blue why did you go so hard on the room renovation? 

Love that Jaden and Syrus just start jumping on his bed and then very casually “principle Sheppard says he wants to see you.” “What about?” “Oh just the fate of duel academy.” They are still jumping on the bed. I love that the school getting shut down at this point is so unexciting

Au Jaden hearing that someone wants to buy out duel academy. In his head “too-San is not going to like this.”

The. He hears that the person wants to fire all the teachers and shit down the school and he thinks back to all the times Seto angrily said he was going to fire all the teachers and possibly shut down the school “never mind he might be thrilled!” He won’t be. A Kaiba never loses

Love that Kaiba in cannon says “I don’t care about the money. It’s about the cards. Beat one of my students and the school is yours.”

You know au Seto was so excited for his son to whoop them. Jaden’s become the go to kid for duel academy. Seto’s sure that they will pick either Zane, top student, or Jaden as revenge for beating their brother on public television.

He did not expect them to pick their own kid brother. He hates these two with a fiery passion. He’s not worried. Jaden says that Chazz is a good duelist so he will trust the kid.

Seto is wild for saying yes to a duel between and adult and a child where the adult can use any card even super expensive. And the child can only use monster cards with less than 500

All the kids turning on Chazz and Chazz having to walk through the halls and listen to that crap

Jaden standing up for him “duelist don’t come much tougher.”

“That’s the problem.” I love that it’s Zane who catches on that Chazz’s deck is to strong

Dr banner you are a teacher. You have to have a better solution then go to the haunted well that’s full of angry abandoned spirits

Jaden is sing the theme song. You got to love a dub

Jaden goes with him because he’s worried about the duel spirits. Chazz is so chill about spirits. It’s just Jaden it doesn’t matter if he sounds crazy

The Ojama brothers!! All the weak duel spirits want to go. Chazz “anyone who wants to can come with me.” You are such a softy

I know him and Jaden picked up all of those cards together.

The animation of his brother’s fist shaking is a very nice detail.

It’s such a good duel. It’s the first time Chazz uses the Ojama’s and it’s such a great character moment for Chazz.

The boy who only cared about strength is using a weak deck and showing off his ability to strategize. It’s such a good show of Chazz’s growth.

Love that he makes them do his chant. But “you go bye bye” is still not the catchphrase you think it is you need.

Seto “of course he won. You really think I’d give my school to those two? They have a lot to learn about world domination.” Sir. Love the confidence but are you teaching classes on how to dominate the world now?

Chazz’s room in Slifer dorm is full of duel spirits and he’s so over it. His new family.

Episode 36

Bastian wants them all to be ready. But it’s the first time I’ve seen someone summon a monster to wake people up. (As serious as Bastian claims to be he really is just a silly kid like the rest of them.

Ahh the card crush episode. (In the sub isn’t Jaden like super confused by this concept??) Bastian please chose a different card to have a ‘not crush’ on

Tania bribing the students to build her an arena. (Aren’t they in love with her after she beat them?)

Alexis being upset that Tania won’t duel her.

Tania having two decks does make her a nice balance for Bastian and his six decks.

Tania these are children. 1st years 14-15 or is it 15-16? Either way they are babies. Not potential husbands.

Like she’s very fun and I love her energy. She keeps out smarting him and the Narrative makes them a good balance. And I know she comes back in season 3 and she’s a duel spirit. But how old are you???

Amazoness paladin has Mai hair and it’s a nice call back to her since she played the amazoness in DM

I know she’s doing this to distract him but Bastian falling for it. Sigh

Jaden is over this. Asking for barf bags. He’s so un serious.

Bastian losing because he got distracted by someone flirting with his relatable but also feels disrespectful.

She just kicked them all out and kept her man. Like wow.

Episode 37

Bastian and Tania broke up because he can’t win. This is the beginning of the down fall of Bastian. Is this why he goes crazy in season 2? Like he does get pushed to the side by the narrative. But he feels like everyone forgot about him. Did the fear of not being good enough start here?

He’s going through such a ruff break up. Bastian would blast Taylor Swift’s ‘down bad’

Jaden “just duel her again” “‘I’ll be your wingman.” I love the energy but maybe “don’t take no for an answer.” isn’t the best advise to give. No is always an answer.

Jaden is trying to hard to help his friend.

Immediately distracted by a duel. He takes up that duel offer so fast.

They are spiritually fist fighting. Gx is so ridiculous

Bastian is back! Hurray.

Her turning into a tiger is wild.

We will stop here for now. We got two really good episodes for the au and two Bastian episodes. I’ll probably switch somethings up in the Bastian duels or maybe I’ll leave them as is. We shall see when I get to writing this.

[wxnheart]

Birb Watching Anon- Yandere Corax x Rebemberancer Anon

After the meeting with the captain, and with the feeling of new life on your mind. You immediately went back to your quarters and packed up your belongings. Even though the serfs would handle most of the movement of the gear, you didn't really like people messing with your art supplies. You sighed…recalling the brief close up of the moon. The dark side was full of light despite the empty surface, mining most likely. However, other side of the moon, that was intriguing. There stood a tall black tower, there were also other buildings around it. yet that stood out. You sat down on the bed and decided to give a quick sketch of the tower. After all, it was your first things you have seen on the moon. After some time, you felt the ship lurch forward suddenly. Getting up, you went back to accompany the captain. Looking out you noticed that you were underground with lumens that flickered occasionally. The captain approached you giving a gentle bow. "Sorry, Remberancer Anon but this is standard protocol, we have to get checked in." You gave a pacifying nod trying to not to let the terror show in your face. At least back with the other boss, you could at least make out what was some resemblance of "up" but here… one wrong move, could lead to your doom. You felt your heart pounding, so you decided to thumb through your sketches in order to pass the time while the captain rushed around trying to get the clearance codes and accesses. Despite having prior knowledge of your arrival, there was always some menial that HAD to be on some power trip. continuing to thumb through the sketches calming down. That was until you reached called Haunter (?). The one drawn after that horrible nightmare… you looked at it with clearer detail. You felt your heart start to race again… no this cannot be right. you took deep breaths. What was your subconscious trying to tell you about this man? Putting those thoughts on the backburner and noticing the captain cursing out someone on a vox com link. Soon you would get out of this underground hell…the captain came over to you and gave a grin showing slightly yellowed teeth. "Good news Remeberancer! We have been expedited and soon we will reach the RavenSpire Quickly!" You raised an eyebrow… "The RavenSpire?" The captain nodded calling over a servitor that spoke in a robotic voice. The servitor showed a holovid of the primarch. You stifled a gasp and shook your head.. no.. it couldn't be. The captain waved its hand in front of the Servitor in order to shut it off. AS she did so the ship surged forward, and landed with a flourish. The captain gave a chuckle. "That's our cue ememberancer." YOu gave a jaded nod.. while looking at your sketchbook at the portrait of Haunter (?). Erasing the title you wrote with a shaky hand, yet in pretty caligraphy. 'Corvus Corax' Getting up and walking with the captain and approaching the shuttle door.. the door opened with quiet ease and inward marched two Space Marines… They dawned black armor and on their right showed their Legion insigia… it was a white bird that was painted on them. THe marines matched in and said with a accented High Gothic "The delays had been for too long. Lord Corax demands to see the Rembereancer's Presence" the Marine pointed a pointed power glove towards you. "Come with us." "Do not worry" The other said, "Your luggage will be transported to your quarters during your meeting with Lord Corax" YOU held your sketchbook close to your chest and gave a long lingering glance to the captain.

You followed the Marines. you were curious about everything and taking in the surroundings. The ravenspire…the Marines marched through a large feasting hall decorated with tropies and skulls. You made a mental note and decided to sketch that part of the Raven Spire. You were secretly reliefed that you decided to dress very well. After all, first impressions of primarchs are make or break. Mostly break. Though, you wondered… why Corax and not the others? Still, at least it wasn't the Phoenician. In the start of your career, you remember getting a scathing review about your art that bordered on unnecessary. You were fuming, but your training had made you keep it to yourself. You shook out the memory as the Marines marched you to a large elevator. they stepped in first and indicated you follow. You stepped in, as one of the marines pressed a button and spoke clearance words. The elevator started to move upwards with smoothness. Eventually, the elevator paused after a long awkward silence. The Marine gave a gesture. 'Welcome to the Eirye.' They stepped out and you followed. You blinked trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness… You clutched the sketchbook close to your chest saying an olden chant that you siad in your home language… to steel your heart. You certainly didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of the primarch. Stepping forward, you nearly bumped into a giant man. So this was him. He was much larger than the marines that accompanied you. His face was framed with long sable hair that fell to his shoulders, his face looked chiseled from marble set with obsidian eyes for frames. Yet on closer inspection, there was no whites in his eyes. His face was sharp and wired with a small line, indicating a frown. He was dressed in a modest black tunic with embroidered white edges. Tall and wiry which was an oddity unlike, like most primarchs, you knew that he had power behind every movement. Around his neck, was a simple cord with skull? You took a small step back, as the giant man bent down at the waist. "So you are Rememberancer Anon correct?" His face didn't change. You nodded and gave a grin. "Yes My lord." He gave a approving nod and turned and walked into his studio. Taking this a cue, you followed him into a study. It was huge, your eyes could barely take in everything. It was a circular room in thick stone. Around the edges of the room were many book seveles that were stuffed with parchment. Interspaced between each book shelf was a large door, you were curious about where each door lead in the Eyire.

Corax walked to a desk where stacks of paper work were placed haphazardly. He sat down and indicted a spot in front of him. "Pardon the mess." He was already behind schedule, and unfortunately this meeting would have to be short. He saw the Remberancer and bent down at the waist to inspect them better. To be honest, he was relieved that he was able to acquire this precious Remeberancer. He shook his head at that. No, they were just the standard. He interally had went through their artwork and found something that was refreshing truly compared to the others. Honesty. He saw their recent work, that had gotten them removed from the Lion's presence. Corax, personally, had always respected the Lion. He always had been loyal to their father, but still he was rather touchy on his ego. A lot of his brothers were including himself… he admitted with a sigh. He turned back to the Rememberancer. They were sweating buckets, he honestly wanted to try to calm them down and assure them that they would be alright, and that they were in no danger. However, a different part of his brain whispered. "They're here for mocking a primarch, plus you can use this to your advantage to keep her in line…" He dismissed that thought with a careless flick of his hand. He turned back to the Remembrancer. "I am keen that you bought your sketchbook with you. Do you mind handing it over?"

You heard the hidden undertone within. YOu sheepishly handed over the sketchbook over with a nervous hand. You gave a grin trying to ease the tension as Lord Corax flipped through the book methodically, yet he stopped on a page and his mostly neutral expression changed in a blink to a small frown. You started to feel a tad bit nervous…what if he didn't like any of it? You had gotten so far now, and he to denounce or even worse… send you to HIM. You gave a tiny shudder. Your training was going to waste here… you mentally chastised yourself. Why were you acting in this manner?! You were so out of it.. you didn't notice that the primarch had placed the sketchbook on the table. Corax gave you a gentle look. "Remeberancer Anon?.. You are free to go. Commanders Andolus and Kuis will escort you to your quarters. " At those words, it seemed to break your spell. You grabbed your book and took a look around… maybe you would sketch this later. The primarch remained at the desk still working on paper, you knew that he was watching you more intently than you would have liked.. BUt it was no matter.. At least you live for another day.

Corax as soon as he heard the elevator leave his private chambers. He sighed taking a momentary pause. He called up the recent sketch of himself… it was oddly perfect. But why. But something really set him off… the original title of the piece. He was not and will never be like his brother. His frown deepened a little bit as he felt a tad bit of shame, as he watched the newest remerbencer go. Why? Emotions and convoluted feeling always ended up in disaster, especially with someone of his magnitude and rank. After all he had read so many stories of slave masters use their power to abuse others to get their way. He felt something boil up before taking a deep breath. Not here. Not now. There was endless work he needed to do so that his legion missions can be completed with efficiency.

In the meantime, you alongside with your Marine escorts had arrived in your room. It was very much lavish in comparison to the recent places you had been staying in. It was very much utilitarian and functional. In the room had a large bed, alongside with a dark covered nightstand. Across the room was a window that had long black drapes. Not like you would ever be closing those curtains anyway. You stepped into the room after bowing to the guard. Entering the room, you noticed to your right a second door, stepping foot was a washroom, with a shower. You were shocked. Very few people were allocated such a function and you felt rather honored in that regard. The room was black as per standard with a sink, toilet and shower. Leaving, you were about to check out the rest of the room where a powerful knock. "You turned and allowed] them passage. Commander Kuis, or at least you thought it was… stooped on the outside. You approached him. Kuis turned and removed his helmet and looked at you dead in the eye. "There are very few rules in the Ravenspire, but there is a rule that all follow. Do not go into the Red Level. Period. I want you to swear an oath to me RIGHT NOW. that you will not do this"

Quaking underneath the verbal assault and the sound of desperation in his voice you agreed to the oath, yet it wasn't enough. Commander Kuis made your swear the oath over and over until he was certain that you had understood the rules. You had nearly gone deaf from the shouting that he had inflected on you. Still, as you heard them trudge away… you took the sketchbook that you had and walked over to the bed.. Tomorrow was going to be your first day and well, you needed sleep at the very least. As you changed and got ready for the sleep to adjust your body to the timing. You climbed into the bed and before you knew it. You were asleep.

👍

[crimsontrxcks]

Dark shadows cradled her in their swaddling clothes, ghostly hands pulling the bones beneath the soft skin and juicy flesh into their layers of unceasing hell. Thorns, steep roads full of tombs of nightmare memories whose middle name was evil reality, to Clare were as close as a real family member. But this time, the demons who walk the earth almost put the ruby-haired woman in a mahogany box, which they would sprinkle with light soil on the surface for what the superstitious call eternal peace. But it wasn't the wood that almost hugged her hourglass figure, but the wax. Lots and lots of wax that would rob the maggots of the feast and leave her face as a reminder of that defeat. Almost. . . but not enough, the arrogance not to surrender to the Grim Reaper won again. The locks colored like blood that she had washed off like shame since the last time she had seen the man with the wolf's smile fluttered in the pleasant afternoon wind in the small town that had sheltered her until she hatched her plan for revenge. Jade irises flashed under the high sun, targeting relentlessly and defiantly at the one to whom her every breath probably caused an uneasy pain like a shard of glass stuck under his skin. . .because he didn't manage to overcome her like all the others. He did not manage to collect her for his display of dolls that his brother created so grotesquely but artistically.

" How many dolls have you collected by that poisonous grin? " melodic voice filled with mysterious amusement flew between cherry colored lips. No fear, not even feeling uneasy, but collecting the ecstasy that the sudden, but expected, encounter brought. Clare knew Bo's confident expression and striking personality will appear in this place soon, and it was an absolute delight watching him struggle to hide the surprise and uneasiness that her presence caused. How did she do it? How did she escape? How did she survive all the inflicted wounds from the merciless final fight? Some would call it an basic instinct for survival -- she calls it pride. Crimson she can spill, torture endure, but pride must remain intact. And if she had died easily like all the others, or ran like rats from the sun back in the sewers, it would be demolished. Bold step closer, devouring the distance between them, showing that she was not a lamb fearing the lion, but an apex predator challenging the other.

" How's that bite treating you? If I knew I was walking into the lair of slayers, I would make it more fun, glaze it with poison, so the memory of me never fades. " Smug grin adorned the falsely angelic face as she glanced to his covered shoulder, where she bit him like a bloodthirsty vampire would, in order to fight him off before he finishes her.

" No matter, I think the mark will remain without my little venomous cocktails. " Oh how she wanted to show him her own playground. . . and she planned to do so as well. Busy street ignored their presence, but ensured no sudden movement that carry threat will be made on his end.

" Oh. . . on the contrary Bo. . . I am quite lucky. " a pause, to build the suspense so thick it could be cut with a knife. " But luck had nothing to do with my survival. Does it eat you up? Trying to figure out how it all went wrong for you that night? " The night where the darkness embraced her as one of its own, and covered her tracks. Another inch closer to him, the citrus scent of her perfume filling the narrow space between them. Cotton candy lips made of poison appeared next to his ear. " Just like the worry how this might play out is eating you out. Will I tell, will I shed light on your secret for the world to see. . ." lower lip grazed his earlobe. " You should be so lucky that it would be that simple. Unfortunately for you, judges, handcuffs and electric chair viewed by strangers is not the punishment I had in mind for you. . . because I want to be the one dragging you under the scythe of doom. "

@vcngefulwrath 

[therobotmonster]

The Adventures of Albert Sauros: The B-Team gets to... shine?

The two great wyrms bore down the four of them: Blazen Kush, halfing bard and herbalist healer, sister Sagittarius, Aarakokra ranger and initiate of the Esoteric Brotherhood of Ib, Dat Ass, a partially infernal, partially elemental donkey with obsidian teeth, and Lee, Dragonborn Great-Grandson of Chi’aang, the Jade Dragon Emperor, monk and adopted ward of Albert Sauros (noted Spiritualist.) With them was a young silver dragon, weakened and wreathed in energy-draining shadow magic.

On one side a terrifying elder White Dragon, on the other, a Red, both having ascended to demi-godhood on the backs of a corrupted ritual that left their chromatic counterparts imprisoned while plunders from the Trading Company red off their power. The waves of heat and cold made a narrow corridor of tolerable air between them. While they circled, the team moved to act.

The rations carried by Dat Ass were laid out in a banquet, Alabaster Fassil’s eight alarm chili on one side, a covered pot of “Myconid Truffle flesh”, in fact their store of wild-magic mushrooms doused in road-wine, on the other, with a spread of cheeses and meats between. On the ground, in burning oil, they wrote “Do not eat the messenger”

The dragons descended, and Lee greeted them in the way his own Great-Grandfather desired greeting: all scraping and bowing and cloying. Their egos assuaged, the monsters feasted. He knew this was a faint gambit, and he attempted to turn the dragon’s ire on the Traders, assuming they, like the silver dragon they had awoken before, had been prisoners of the spell.

This was proved incorrect. The chromatic dragons were in on it, and the white dragon scored a crit, swallowing whole the weakened and much smaller silver dragon. That was the gluttonous beast’s trademark, it would turn out.

Pivoting, Lee commended the Red on a cunning plan, hoping to injure the white’s ego to make them fight one another, then that failed, he did all he could, offering the “truffles” to the red as a gift before he died. Rage was needed, distraction, so the others could escape. Lee’s honor demanded he sacrifice himself. Lee’s lost timeline, his lost home, made sure he would. 

“Great and mighty Red.” Lee said. “I ask you one question before I die. Do you have any children?”

“Thousands!” The Red laughed with pride.

“Thousands minus one.” Lee replied, pulling out and holding up the horn of the red dragon hatchling that had threatened his companions, the ones he had earned his 4th level punching to death.

With that, Lee pivoted, turning to the white dragon, and ran, full pace, as monks do, screaming as he runs “Make good on your boast, monster! EAT ME!”

And he delivers a powerful ki-strike with his sword, barely scratching the demigod. 

As the white bore down, fanged mouth agape, he shouted to his companions. “Run, you peasants!” 

He then looked up into the jaws and smirked “The curse of Ib is upon you.”

Snap-snap-gulp. Lee is dying, swallowed whole. His helpless form sliding down the beast’s gut...

....With his pockets stuffed with wild-magic mushrooms.

The Red dragon did not take Lee’s bait, and didn’t clash with the white over the kill-steal. He did, however, slurp down the entire barrel of wine-soaked “truffles” before turning to the others.

They were already booking it. Blazen teleported, darted and dashed down the path they’d climbed to this mountaintop temple, while Sagittarius dove off the cliff, with Dat Ass trundling behind her. Dat Ass could fly, but slowly, and had chosen simply to fall until they got close to the ground, the plan being to fly from there.

The white dragon went after Blazen and gobbled the halfling up whole. The red and Dat Ass clashed in mid-air, and not to the donkey’s favor... but that’s when the magic mushrooms began to kick in. The wild magic surges ripped through both dragons.

Dat Ass was crushed as the Red dragon’s organs shifted and twisted, turning into cancerous lumps of abyssal oranges (yes, the fruit), his corpse dropping like a nightmare flesh-pinata packed with demonic produce. The wild tides of chaos shredding a god to fertilizer at terminal velocity.

The White Dragon would have screamed, but their mouth had been sealed shut as their saliva turned to sovereign glue. In that same moment, its stomach expanded with masses of cooked rice, forcing Lee up the beast’s gullet and out through the nasal passages in a wave of rice that plugged the nostrils up behind. 

Lee falls onto the ground, in a pile of dragon sick and cooked rice. two successful death saves, two unsuccessful ones... his life hanging on that last result.

The enraged white, unable to breathe, blinded by more magic effects, and having just witnessed the Red’s gore-death before their own sight was forcibly projected to an underwater city,goes hunting for the last living target: Sagittarius. She has made it to the forest, and is playing hide-and-seek with the enraged dragon that’s determined to kill this mortal before said dragon runs out of air. 

One failed hide check and Sagittarius survives only because the dragon head-butted, having forgot that its teeth were locked together in its anger. At the last moment, the last round before the beast’s air ran out, it found her one last time, it lashed out to crush her... 

And missed, the last of its energy spent, as it collapsed, suffocating on glue and rice.

Sagittarius cut the white dragon open to pull out her friends, and, finding Lee missing, returned to find his unconscious form. They piled the dead into a cart, the head of the white and some trophies from the red in the other, and headed back to the frogfolk city, passing a grove of mutated demonic orange trees that offered them oranges as they passed, their bodies draped in the Red Dragon’s leavings.

The party politely declined.

[locria-writes]

Omg do you have a snippet of MCs cherry pop with lothar??

i actually do

(also the first chunk was already posted here as a different snippet, but i never posted the ending, so here’s the full thing)

For as long as he can remember, Lothar never liked other people looking at what he thought was his. It was negligible at first, for his mentor made certain to destroy anything that could be deemed his own.

Maybe that’s why he feels the need to protect and hide away his belongings – including yourself.

It was too easy to convince you to shy away from the world. It took some carefully engineered incidents to terrify you, some creative use of his magic to pretend as though there were those out to harm you, and a few words to convince you to stay at his home. From there, it only got easier and easier to persuade you to stop your visitors, then to stop all social functions, and then to simply stay within your shared quarters.

But Lothar isn’t a heartless man. It pains him to hurt you in any way, but it’s the only way to keep you safe, hidden away from all that can possibly harm you.

Even if that means hurting you himself.

To the outside world, he merely tells them you’re ill, suffering from constant fatigue and dizziness. Nobody thinks to doubt him – the perfect gentleman, the kind and well-mannered dog of the court.

“My darling, were you all right without me?” There’s a rush of relief when he sees you in your chambers, as always. He knows it’s foolish to expect you anywhere else, but the fear is still there. He still remembers the panic when you went to visit your brother and weren’t back when he was.

He thought you’d left him, just like everyone else.

You’re sitting by your vanity, brushing those lovely locks of yours, as you turn to him. Your face lights up as you rush over to him, flinging your slender arms around his waist. “My lord…”

He chuckles, running a hand through your hair. “Did you miss me, my sweet girl?”

“I did.” Your voice is muffled as you nuzzle your face into his chest. “It was scary again today.”

“My poor girl is so brave.” Lothar leans down and kisses your cheek. “I’ll make it all better.”

He picks you up, cradling you close to his chest, and sits down your shared bed, with you on his lap “You must have been so scared.”

“Not while you’re here.” Your gaze is still fractured, and it hurts him to see you like this.

It hurts him more that a part of him is thrilled to see you like this.

He smiles wanly, brushing your hair once more. “Before that, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Mhm.” He reaches into his pocket for the small jar he bought earlier. “I heard that this is popular with the young ladies.”

You take the ornate jar, examining the floral patterns on it. “What is it?”

“Rouge.”

You take off the lid, and the aromatic fragrance of it fills the room. The colour is a rich and deep red, not the colour you normally wear. “This must have cost you a small fortune.”

“It’s nothing compared to you.” Lothar takes one of your hands – so delicate and untainted – in his gloved ones, dipping one of your fingers into the pot. “Try it on. The colour might be deep, but I think it will suit you wonderfully.”

The bashful flush that dusts your cheeks wipes away the day’s fatigue. How wonderful it would be if he could spend the rest of his life only coaxing such adorable expressions from you. Forget everything and everyone – that would be his heaven on earth.

He gently uses your finger to paint your lips with the rouge. It’s a bit too heavy for someone as fresh-faced and innocent as yourself, but it’s a good match nonetheless, at least aesthetically. He’d much rather you only wear the light and pastel colours of youth, not the dark and mature colours of the jaded.

“You look lovely, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, raising your dirtied finger to his lips. “Absolutely stunning.”

Your shy expression as he licks your finger is bliss. The trembling of your lower lip when he begins to suck on it is almost too much for him.

He really wants to push you down and take you right then and there, but he’s a man of patience. You’re the most darling girl he’ll ever know, and you deserve to be worshipped thusly.

“M-my lord…” you murmur, voice quivering ever so slightly.

He hums around the digit, dragging his tongue from the base to the tip of it, relishing the quiet whimper that escapes you. He pulls away, purposely allowing for a trail of saliva to form to see your flushed cheeks grow darker. “Nothing should ever mar your beautiful skin, my dear girl.”

“Nothing but you, my lord.” The soft smile you give him feels like it can absolve him of all his sins.

“You���re absolutely adorable.” He pushes you down onto the bed, golden eyes flashing crimson for a second. “You make me feel like both a terrible man and the most blest.”

“You’re not a bad man.” You reach up to cup his face, but he grabs your wrist, and leans down to kiss you.

It starts off soft, lips moving against each other, breaths mingling together. Lothar drags his tongue against your bottom lip, almost reverently as though he seeks permission, which he knows you’ll grant without fail. You moan when his tongue touches yours, and your free arm grabs onto his hair, lightly tugging it.

He groans into the kiss, releasing your hand to reach for something under his pillow. You heed little attention to it as the kiss grows more and more fervent. It isn’t until you feel a prick of pain that you realize he grabbed a dagger and was slowly cutting off your dress.

He breaks the kiss first, smears of rouge left on his lips as he gives you a saccharine smile. “It seems I’ve ruined your rouge.”

“It’s fine if it’s you, my lord.” Your breath hitches as he tears off your dress, thin trails of blood following his blade. “What are you doing?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your skin is?” he whispers, dragging its tip along your stomach. “I want to keep it unblemished, but at the same time, it’s the perfect canvas.”

“I’m afraid… It hurts…”

“A love as grand as ours will always hurt.” His dagger digs into your upper thigh, your whimper of pain makes him chuckle. “How can there be love if there isn’t pain?”

“Please, my lord – “

“I understand.” He sets the blade down as he moves down to your leg. “It’s a shame for such beautiful skin to break, for such precious blood to be spilled.”

Your moan is of pain and bliss as his lips press against the cut. His tongue darts out, greedily lapping away at the blood that escapes from your wound. Your blood has always been special to him – it’s the only thing he’s ever been able to taste, and it tastes of heaven and innocence.

He wonders if it will still taste like that when he’s done with you.

Your trembling and whimpers all feed into his joy. Only he can hurt you like this, and only he can bring you such pleasure. It’s his utmost honour to be able to do so.

“My lord…! It hurts, it hurts!” He ignores your cries as his tongue digs into the cut. Your blood is just so intoxicating, so alluring…

“Please stop! Please…” You’re openly sobbing now, fingers tangled in his hands. “I can’t…it’s too painful…Lothar…”

The sound of his name leaving your sweet lips pull him out of his reverie. Lothar pulls away to see tears streaming down your face. He feels conflicted – on one hand, he wants to kiss away your tears and tell you everything will be all right, that he won’t hurt you, but on the other, he wants to hurt you. He wants to spill your blood and drink it all; he wants to wrap his hands around your dainty neck and see you struggle for breath; he wants to see your sweet face twisted in pain.

“Did it hurt?” he asks softly, licking his lips for any residual blood. “Did it scare you?”

You nod pitifully, eyes wide with fear. “That’s what I always dream of – of those shadows hurting me like that.”

“Ah, that sounds awful, my darling girl.” It’s too easy to feign a sympathetic look. He has no intentions in helping to allay the nightmares he’s so lovingly crafted.

When you’re awake, he’s there to soothe you, to play the part of the concerned lover. He’ll cradle you gently in his arms, kissing away your tears, and coaxing you to calmness with soothing nothings and by feeding you his blood, citing it as a way to keep any bad magic away from you.

When you’re asleep, he makes those dreams happen, twisting whatever pleasant ones you may have into nightmares. He longs to see you truly defiled like him, so you’ll never leave him. He longs to see the light in your eyes diminish, to see your innocence wither away by his hands so you can stand with him on equal grounds.

Lothar runs a gloved hand along your thigh. “Do you want me to make it better?”

“Please…” He loves hearing you whimper.

He smiles, lowering his head to between your legs. It’s a delicious sight, to see you already so wet for him. “You seem quite excited today, my darling. Maybe it didn’t hurt so much after all.”        

He doesn’t wait for your response, licking along your slit for your wonderful moans. It’s a shame he can’t taste for he’s certain he would love the taste of your honey. Instead, he settles for those seductive sounds you make as he pushes his tongue inside of you. Your hands are gripping his hair so tightly that it hurts, but it’s a satisfying hurt. It’s not like the pain he used to feel.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against your folds. “So wet, and just for me, darling girl.”

“Please…don’t tease….me…” You moan loudly this time as he gives you a few nips, feeling the pleasure spread throughout your body.

It only adds to his feast, luckily. He begins licking and sucking, determined not to let a single drop of you go to waste. How heavenly you must taste. “You’re…just overflowing…” He continues, ignoring the slight ache in his jaw. Your sweet moans are reward enough for him as you come for him over and over.

You’re a trembling mess by the time he pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before licking that off. The sight of you -- legs splayed out, slick with sweat and your own honey, ruined rouge, and a flushed with teary eyes brings his attention to the uncomfortable strain in his trousers.

“Are you all right?” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Was that too much?”

You shake your head, though he figures you’re lying. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“It’s…it’s not fair if only I get something…” Your eyes dart away from his, and it’s so cute he almost laughs.

“I can take care of it myself.”

“No!” You grab his arm, albeit rather weakly. “I…um…I want to help…”

He almost believes he misheard you until you reach for his trousers with a red face. “My dear rose, you needn’t do this.”

“But I want to!” You pout, and his heart melts. “We…um…we still haven’t….m-made love…”

Your sentiment is so adorable, but he shakes his head. “We just did.”

“That was just you loving me though.”

“That’s enough for me.”

“No, it isn’t.” In his lowered guard, you somehow manage to undo his trousers.

“Please, my lord, Lothar – “

That’s all it takes for him to indulge you. He tugs off his clothes hastily but loses his nerve as his length touches your entrance. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes, please.” Your voice is breathy as you stare up at him. “Please make love to me.”

He pushes inside you, slowly to gauge your response. You wince at first at the unfamiliarity, and your arms start to wrap around his back, but his holds your hands down instead, lacing his fingers through yours. “It hurts at first, my love. But it’ll be over soon.”

“You’re so warm.” Lothar groans once he’s fully inside, reluctant to start moving as your walls tighten around him. “So tight, so soft.”

“It…hurts a little…” You’re squeezing his hands tightly and he can see the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“It’ll hurt more if I don’t move.” He makes a few shallow thrusts, and your moans are slightly pained. “It’ll feel good later.”

You slowly nod your assent, and he slowly begins to move, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust, and your moans growing more and more pleasured.

“You feel…so good…” The words almost get caught in his throat. “I love you, my darling…. I love you so…so much…”

“I…I love you too…Lothar…”  

Somehow, that ruins him entirely. The measured pace he so painstakingly maintained is gone now, replaced by a wild and erratic one. He pulls out of you, smirking at your needy whine.

Gone now was the fear of hurting you, and now he only wishes to see you in pain.

He lets go of your hands, gripping onto your hips with bruising force as he lifts them off the bed, changing the angle so he can hit deeper inside of you.

“Does it hurt?”  

You don’t respond, instead, crying out as he re-enters you.  

“You’re…a lewd girl…aren’t you?” He pounds into you with such fervour that it almost seems angry. “The sweet…innocent girl…likes being fucked like this…”

Your arms wrap around his back, fingernails digging painfully into his back, but it feels so wonderful with your lovely sounds.

He doesn’t know how many times you come until he does. He almost forgets to pull out, and it isn’t until he feels himself over the edge. He spills himself over your stomach, and that snaps him out of his

It was close – too close. He just got you, how could he possibly lose you?

“Lothar…”  

“What is it, my darling?” He wraps his arms around, careful not to touch the cuts from before.

“Do you really love me?”

What a silly question. “Of course, I do.” He kisses your sweaty forehead. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

Your eyes tell him you don’t believe him, but before he can question you further, you snuggle up against him. Your breathing becomes even, and you’ve fallen asleep.

Lothar sits there, stroking your hair absently. If you’re questioning him like this, you must know something.

Whatever it is, he’ll destroy it and remove it from your memory. You should only remember the good things that he does, and the evil things of the world.

You should only remember that you are his, and he is yours.

The rest of the world can burn for all he cares.

[lassieposting]

Vile and Mevolent, for the romantic headcanons?

Who goes to bed late and who wakes up first?

Both Vile, because he very rarely sleeps through the night. He'll go to bed whenever Mevolent does, but he has nightmares and a hard time switching off the hypervigilance, so someone coughing three rooms away or walking by at the far end of the hall or laughing in the gardens will startle him awake and he'll struggle to resettle. A lot of the time he gets up multiple times during the night, then comes back to bed once he's confident there's no threat. The sunrise, the dawn chorus, the fire in the grate burning down to embers (less crackly noise, more cold), and increased footfall in the hallways will also wake him up, so he doesn't normally sleep past when the servants start their work.

Mev, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead, and only gets up at a reasonable hour because he's got shit to do - if he's got the time to lounge in bed till noon, he'll do it. He sleeps through most of Vile's nighttime activity, but when it does wake him, he can usually calm Vile down enough to coax him back to sleep.

Who sings during daily activities (shower, cooking, etc)?

Mevolent. Some of the Faceless hymns are catchy. He's got an okay voice, so Vile doesn't mind. It amuses him how upbeat some of the tunes are for songs that are mostly about the faceless ones laying waste to the planet, though.

Who takes care of the other on sick days?

Mevolent. Not that he has to do it often - they're both incredibly tough, and sorcerers are immune to most mortal illnesses, so the only thing likely to bench either of them for more than a few hours is a Serious Injury. And? Mevolent is a sensible, rational man. When he has a Serious Injury, he goes to Nye, because Nye is by far the most competent surgeon on Mevolent's staff, and Nye fixes him up.

Vile is not a sensible, rational man. Vile is a torture survivor. He won't let Nye get within thirty feet of him, because Nye was the one advising Serpine on how much more he could take before it killed him. He's wildly unpredictable when he's hurt, because he goes into self-preservation mode, and everyone around him becomes a threat. And to make everyone's lives even harder, he has a tendency to mask an injury and try to fix it himself, because he's surrounded by the same people who tortured him and he cannot afford to show weakness. So once Mev wins his trust, he's pretty much the only person Vile will let take care of him when he's hurt.

Who gives unprompted massages?

Vile. Mevolent spends a lot of time sat at a desk, and gets the stiff neck/shoulders/back accordingly. Vile will come up behind him to look over his shoulder at what he's doing, and absent-mindedly do Mev's shoulders while he's at it.

Mev will give massages too, usually to make Vile go all drowsy and relaxed after a few rough nights of little sleep, but he asks first.

What activity do they do together in sync?

Compensate for each other's weaknesses in battle. For Mevolent, this means keeping an eye on Vile's blind side: usually, his magic does this for him and gets him around just fine, but a battlefield is so chaotic that it's difficult for him to tell his fighters' life energy and the enemy's apart. For Vile, this means being fast enough to hit anything Mevolent can't. For all that he's "slender", Mev is a big, strong guy; he's the tank, and his equipment shows it: heavy armour, massive greatsword. But the tradeoff for that sword's powerful swing is slower speed. Vile is smaller, faster and his armour moves with him, so he'll take out anything that gets too close to Mev before he has time to swing. They're a highkey unstoppable team in battle.

Who gives nose/forehead/hand kisses?

Mevolent. Vile is more neck/shoulderblade/wrist kisses.

Who gets jealous?

Both of them, but Vile is the one you really don't want to cross; he's lost everything he cared about before and it completely broke him, so he absolutely will not tolerate competition. There's a rumour that the real reason Serpine tried to pull off a sloppy assassination - when he's always been so meticulous about his schemes - and then fled the city is because he found out that when Mevolent asked what gift would prove his love, Vile asked for Serpine's head. It's also a popular theory that Serafina's death, officially a "tragic accident", was in fact the deliberate removal of a rival (although, the court is divided on whether Nef or Vile arranged it).

Mev is a lot more chilled about his jealousy. It comes with having the power to grind your rival's entire bloodline to dust whenever you feel like it.

Soft kisses or passionate kisses?

Both.

Who brings the other food at work?

Vile will load up a plate of leftovers if Mevolent is balls deep in A Project and misses a meal, and take it up to his office so he'll still eat something. He actually has a better handle on When Mevolent Last Ate than Mev does.

Who made the first move?

Lowkey both of them. It was a blazing row during a post-battle debrief-slash-dressing-down that unexpectedly became an adrenaline-fuelled angry fuck. Neither is really sure who pounced first.

Who won’t dress in costume unless it’s a couple costume?

Mevolent won't dress up unless it's like, a super fancy, elegant masquerade ball costume. Vile is an introverted antisocial buzzkill and won't dress up at all.

How was their first date like?

They went riding. Vile was at the point of recovery where he was climbing the walls with cabin fever, and short walks in the palace gardens weren't cutting it anymore, so Mevolent took him outside the city to let off some steam.

Who writes love letters/notes to the other?

Both of them! The early years of their relationship were during the war, when they'd often find themselves leading the offensive on completely different continents. This being the 1800s, they'd communicate primarily by letter; incorporeal visitations were a thing, but still in the very experimental stage, and Teleporters were precious.

Originally, Vile would send field reports, and Mevolent would respond with written orders. Professional. Brief. Succinct. Then Vile has his injury. They get closer while he's recuperating, and when he goes back to the front, his orders arrive with a postscript, more or less saying, "How are you holding up?" He adds a postscript of his own to his next report - essentially, "I'm fine" - and then, after a bit of consideration, decides that sounds too brusque and adds a little funny story about something that happened with one of his soldiers recently.

The postscripts get longer. They share little anecdotes, celebrate each other's victories, comfort each other after defeats. Vile sends Mev three scrawly pages of absolute filth, which is delightedly received halfway across the world. Mevolent spells Vile's name differently on every single letter, and somehow never manages to spell it the same way twice (Veighle? Vyle? Veele? Véle? Vile is ready to end him and his medieval approach to spelling.) They even send each other little trophies or souvenirs, squeezed in at the very end of a crowded parchment.

"V - Saw this and thought of you. M"

"M - You'll probably laugh at this as much as I did. V"

Who firmly believed the other was their soulmate from early on?

They're too bitter and jaded and scarred to believe in soulmates. Vile was the one who immediately thought Mevolent Got Him, though - "finally, here is someone who shares my appetite for destruction."

How much do they touch each other (PDA)?

Rarely, in public. Once Mevolent is fully established as ruler of the world and he can be open about his relationship without risking his crusade, they might dance together occasionally, or touch one another's arm to get their attention, or murmur in one another's ear. But they were a secret for over a century, and they very rarely interact publicly in a way that would be out of character for a lord and his general. Vile still usually enters rooms behind/"guarding" Mevolent rather than on his arm (with a few exceptions, usually when Mev wants to make a point). The main "PDA" for them is that they use each other's names, rather than "my lord"/"general", and Vile will look Mevolent in the eye, which isn't really permitted for anyone else.

Do they have cute nicknames for each other?

Vile is "V" a lot of the time.

How do they feel about Valentine’s Day? Do they go on a date?

Valentine was a Christian saint, and Mevolent only endorses the Faceless religion, so while V-day might still exist in Leibniz, it would only be in the homes of those brave enough to flaunt the laws around false gods and banned faiths, and would probably not be openly celebrated.

Public marriage proposal or something private?

Private. The first anyone else hears about it is when someone notices that Mevolent's changed his family crest. It's normal for sorcerers to either impale their crest (split the shield down the middle, with half your crest on one side and your partner's on the other) with their new spouse's, or include a nod to their spouse's crest in their own, by adopting one of their tinctures or bearers or something. The gossip circuit goes wild trying to figure out what prompted the change - nobody recognises the impaled crest, and Mevolent's shown no interest in any young ladies of good family since Lady Serafina's tragic passing. Rumours abound. Changing your crest is something that happens after you get married, not before - so at some point, their lord and master got secretly married and didn't tell anyone.

Eventually, someone points out that Mevolent took Lord Vile off to one of his summer palaces for a few weeks several months ago, ostensibly to renovate. That summer palace is small as palaces go, and quiet, and that trip could...feasibly have been a honeymoon, a newly married couple wanting some privacy. But if that's true...they've been married almost a year, and nobody knew a damn thing.

After changing the crest, Mev announces a month of feasting and festivities to celebrate. He manages his public image carefully, and he knows that the commonfolk won't give a damn that he's gone and married his heathen lover, if it gives them an excuse to get drunk and stuff themselves on his dime.

Vile, being an intensely private person, took forever to okay the crest change, but since most of the court is terrified of him, he only really gets questioned by a few people.

How long into the relationship before they had sex?

Their relationship literally began with a post-battle adrenaline-fuelled angry fuck. They hooked up long before ever developing Feelings.

Who drops innuendos at random?

Neither of them are hugely inclined towards innuendoes, but it happens for both of them occasionally.

Who makes romantic surprises without a reason to?

They both will, but the definition of romantic varies wildly. "I've arranged a showing of an opera you like" and "I've kept this prisoner until you got back so we can interrogate him together" are both under the umbrella of "romantic surprise" for these two.

How likely are they to have sex in a non-bedroom location?

Very. Mevolent's throne is a popular pick. The carriage, the bathtub and every flat surface in Mev's rooms are also A-OK.

Who said “I love you” first and when?

Vile really struggles with the big three. Everyone he's ever said that to, he's lost, usually in horrible ways. He's lowkey convinced himself that if he doesn't say it, he won't ever lose Mevolent.

So it's Mev that says it first, and it's kind of in the middle of a religious crisis. He's fairly convinced the gods would overlook him fucking a heathen, given all the good he's done in their name, but then one night they're in bed together, Vile is dozing off on his chest, and he's got this warm fuzzy feeling like this is How Things Should Be, and he's not really been in love before but he's pretty sure that's a much more serious sin. Vile mumbles at him to ask what he's all fidgety about, and "I think I might be falling in love with you and that terrifies me" comes out during the resultant conversation.

Who will sing cheesy romantic songs when drunk?

Mevolent. The cheesy romantic songs are from like, the middle ages. It's a bit like your older boyfriend trying to seduce you with dad-rock - cringey, but in a funny, I-love-you-but-god-you-suck kinda way.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Trauma

Like my stuff? Maybe support me on ko-fi? 

Everyone has trauma in their lives. Something affected them so profoundly on a deep level it changed them. Trauma can be anything and some people bounce right back and move on. Better, wiser. Some don’t. 

 Some can more or less get over it but they can’t move on. 

 “He beat the crap out of me and threw me out,” Roy tells Marinette while the two sit outside the designer’s apartment. They’re drinking tea with Plagg and Tikki feasting on cheese and cookies. Lian is inside being told stories by Trixx and Wayzz. It’s just them outside after fighting off aliens- after a Miraculous Ladybug fixed New York. Or well most of it anyway. Not all of it could be fixed. “Nearly died a few times. Nearly got kidnapped and replaced with a clone. Luckily I broke out before that happened.” Roy shakes his head. “He hasn’t ever reached out. I don’t want him to but… I dunno. Guess I’m just waiting for a something that’ll never come.”

 “My parents started treating me like an adult when I was ten. It was fun at first but well… you start seeing how little they saw you. They never noticed when I was hurt or sad or needed their help. I remember I begged for them to listen when Lila started her lies but they just never did.” Marinette tells Roy. “They haven’t seen me in years. I barely talk to them. They just… stopped caring or well something at least.”

 “I lost my first teammate when I was fifteen. I mean he came back cause fuck death in the superhero business, right? But like that hurt.”

 “Chat was my partner. My best friend. My… something. We were a would have, or a could have. But he died. He died from being stabbed in the heart by his own father. Our villain.”

 “The drugs started because of a case but it became this… need. This focus for me. I couldn’t stop. Oliver didn’t get it. He didn’t get addiction. He doesn’t get it. I still want it. I still feel the need for a needle in my arm. I kicked one habit but replaced it soon enough thanks to Jade.”

 “I tried dating. It’s hard knowing your lifespan will be different. And I tended to go for people who reminded me of Adrien at first. Blonde rich boys. People I thought were nice. They weren’t. Or I couldn’t do it without thinking of him.”

 “Lian was what brought me out of it, but Jay and Kori were big helps to. Fighting the good fight, being heroes again… it helped.”

 “I was made the Guardian at fourteen, and that was what helped me. I got better, I had people who would listen, who somewhat knew what I was going through. I had people to care for me.”

 “I barely remember by Native heritage. It… I don’t even know. I want to know it again but where do I start?”

 “My mother never taught me half my Chinese heritage. To busy, to busy to teach me. And then she would act upset I didn’t know. Like it wasn’t on her shoulders too.”

 It’s raw and it hurts but they talk and talk into the night, pausing to tuck Lian into bed before moving to the dining room table. 

 After it’s over they sit and stare at each other. 

 “Where do we go from here?” Roy asks and Marinette shrugs.

 “Forward? I have a fashion show coming up… we can think about our talk tonight? I’ll be in California. You do have that spaceship…” Roy laughs and agrees and…

 It’s good. Two weeks to think- still talking because they can’t just stop talking to each other- and decompress. It’s a good idea. 

 It’s good.

-0-

 Living with a tiny god of destruction is interesting. Plagg only eats cheese but does allow for cheaper cheese since Roy can’t afford the fancy stuff he likes. Lian loves him and Plagg likes telling ridiculous stories. 

 The drug dealer next door- the one who keeps trying to sell to Roy and Roy has a hard time saying no if Lian isn’t with him- finds all of his good destroyed one day. All of it basically gone bad. He has no idea how and it keeps happening.

 Roy makes sure to buy extra fancy cheese for Plagg as a surprise. 

 Kori and Jay- because he tells them everything and Marinette had agreed- like him to. Kori likes talking with him about things he’s done or things he’s destroyed (“That temple was old and ruined anyway. So I may have wrecked it. Big deal!”) while Jason likes snarking with him. 

 But there’s something missing.

 The two weeks waiting for Marinette go by fast and all Roy can think is he wants to see her again. He wants to be with her, he wants to have Kwami all over the house and he wants to help her make the Kwami room comfortable for them. He was to be with her in every way he can. He wants to be her Black Cat.

 When she comes back he tells her and… it’s rather amazing.

-0-

 They don’t move in together right away. No- that would be stupid. Instead, they take their time in dating. Marinette finishes her internship and launches her brand, Roy works and goes off with the Outlaws. 

 Marinette rarely puts on her spots, her hero days done mostly but at times she’ll suit up to run across rooftops with him. 

 Lian adores having Marinette in her life. She adores the Kwami and begs for maybe wielding one one day. Both former teen heroes shiver at the thought. 

 Neither of them wants their lives for her. They’re broken people. They don’t want her to break.

 Jason and Kori like Marinette more after the truth is revealed. They join for the talks and the laughter and Marinette remakes their clothes and teases them. They tease back and it’s… it’s everything.

 Jason starts wearing a turtle bracelet after a while, Wayzz on his shoulder while Kori has a bee in her hair- two really. They don’t talk about it but it’s something. 

 Roy meets Kagami and Luka and they share sad smiles at each other before they get along well. He feels something and learns that promising cats always feel so. He feels for them- cats who want to be with a big but can’t- but not enough to say anything.

 Or maybe it’s he feels enough not to say. Who knows?

 -0-

 They’re not perfect. They have nightmares and sometimes Roy stands outside liquor stores and in the alcohol aisle and gets snappy with Marinette. Sometimes Marinette breaks down because she bottles her emotions because she had to for so long. They fight and argue and things sometimes seem awful.

 But they have each other. A cat and a bug. And it’s everything. 

tagged: @schrodingers25, @roseunivers999, @vixen-uchiha

[zoeybeecee]

SnippetMatria

The bonfire before the patriarch's seat soared above the young male's seated form and flickered with a faint jade glow. The patriarch's gray-green eyes held a warm smile as he beheld his new subjects, dozens of refugees who, like himself, faced insurmountable odds to reach their new home. Wolf-like humanoids, several of which were some of the patriarch's own relatives, watched with bated breath as their young leader stood to his feet. A pair of wings as white as freshly fallen snow were folded at the patriarch's back, giving him a celestial presence among his mortal kin and even matched his moonlit pelt.

The elders who were present had known the new patriarch to have the black-brown fur of his fathers. From his first father, the young male gained not only the tremendous height, but the charisma that was unquestionable, unwavering. From his second father, he gained a gentle wisdom which was also respected...and a legacy of angelic prose.

Approaching the patriarch from his right, a golden-brown wolf-like humanoid greeted his younger brother with a brisk arm brace. His dark green eyes glittered with pride at his sibling. “Annitir, Moonhide,” the older brother said, using an endearing sibling phrase.

“Annitir, Dusthowl,” Moonhide, the patriarch chuckled. Taking in a deep breath, he sighed away his anxiety, and addressed his clan. “Elders, brothers, sisters...my kin. Our journey has been indeed an arduous feat which will be told to all generations. We've escaped the tyranny of Jaxxix the Butcher!”

A cheer rose from the group, and among the dozens of admiring creatures called Khanin, one female smiled warily. She knew, much like the elders, who the real refugees were. Those who really escaped the nightmare in Cassik Forest from long ago.

And still Moonhide continued, ��We faced our most primal fears and befriended the Feliskins of Akrhyn! We traveled the Ambrose Sea!”

Another cheer echoed through the forest from the Khanin.

“And now, we have made our home here,” Moonhide brought the swell of excitement down from the group. His voice heavied slightly. “Though we have lost many in our travels. Even our-beloved Matriarch...I-I will try my best to carry on her rule. We will live our lives to the fullest, as she would have wished. And in her memory, this wood will be forever called: Verna's Walk!”

The female could see the pain in her leader's eyes for such a brief moment, she wondered if she was trying to find something in his gaze. She blinked, noticing the leader's paw raise to quiet the murmurs and whispers.

“I do not mean to sadden your hearts,” Moonhide's voice rang clearly, void of sorrow. “For tonight begins our first season in our new home. I ask that you unburden your hearts on this night and revel in the joy of this new world. A world to live in peace and happiness.” With a simple gesture of his paw, Moonhide dismissed the group to partake in their nightly feast.

The female was among the last to stand. The thoughts in her mind and heart seemed to fill her stomach as well, and as she took a last glance at the patriarch, she could see that he spoke with his brother in hushed tones. She stepped away from the crowds, thankful for the cool night air on her pale brown fur and that delicately stroked at her brownish-blonde mane. She knew that she could not venture too far, for fear of drawing attention, and she would draw further attention if she did not eat with her foster family. She would instead wait for her turn, however long it took. She sat against the dull yellow trunk of a golden maple, her gaze flitting from the hungry Khanin that each took a fair portion of various types of meats hunted earlier: swamp venison, boars, herons, swans, hares, various fish. It was a mighty banquet for them, and perhaps the most food they have had in years.

“Kiera?” a voice resounded from her right.

The female sat up as a shadow fell over her. She looked up to see the patriarch's brother, Dusthowl stop before her. She blinked, her voice leaving her long enough for him to continue.

“I-I'm sorry. Did I-” Dusthowl stepped back sheepishly. His long blonde tail swayed anxiously.

“No,” her answer was sharper than she intended. “Err-I mean, I was just...I was waiting for the rest of them to go.”

Dusthowl cleared his throat as he took a glance from his brother in the distance and back to Kiera. “Would you like to wait with us?”

“At the Patriarch's seat?” Kiera's voice dropped to a whisper. She swallowed nervously.

Dusthowl gripped the back of his neck, his claws stroking at the hairs of his mane. “He's the same Moonhide, Kiera. I promise. It'll be like old times, like when M-Verna was alive.” Releasing his anxious grip on his neck, he extended his paw. “I think he needs the both of us right now. Please, Kiera.”

Kiera should have turned her gaze away, but she was held by those pitiful dark green eyes that pleaded even more fervently than words. She glanced at the profile of Moonhide, hunched forward in his place, alone. Her ears crinkled slightly. She berated herself for being nervous around Dusthowl and for even having reservations about Moonhide. She had known both brothers for most of their lives. She was Moonhide's caretaker after he'd nearly escaped death from his cut collar. Her delicate grip seemed to be swallowed by Dusthowl's long bony paws.

Dusthowl pulled Kiera to her feet with a gentle tug. After she dusted off her kilt and tunic, Kiera followed Dusthowl to the main bonfire, seating herself at Moonhide's right. She stared at the strange green flames and gray green smoke which held a soothing fragrance at a closer distance. She blinked away her trance, startled as Dusthowl took his place beside her.

“This fire,” Kiera's tongue seemed to grow heavy. “It's fed with golden maple?”

“Not just golden maple,” Moonhide's voice sounded distant to Kiera. “There was some moss that the gatherers thought would make the fire last longer.”

“The moss seems to work, don't you think, Moonhide?” Dusthowl asked hopefully.

“It's been going on-” Moonhide's voice grew concerned as he brought his gaze to Kiera. “Kiera? What's the matter?”

Kiera brought her paw to her face, wiping away the haze. “I'm fine. I just want to get some water is all.”

Dusthowl stretched back to the tent opening behind them and produced a skin of liquid. “Here. You don't mind, annitir?”

Moonhide shook his head, “No it's fine.” He stood back up, his hulking shadow was cast over the tent wall.

Kiera wanted to take the proffered skin, but saw a strange twinge of sadistic glee in Disthowl's face. She blinked, thinking that her mind was being tricked by the smoke, but the crooked smile did not leave his face.

“Let me help you with that,” Moonhide's whispered voice resounded above Kiera, startling her. She was trying to grasp for a reason why the brothers would be acting odd, and could only come to the conclusion that the smoke was affecting them.

“Vendrixx, Valdra,” Kiera called the brothers by their birthnames. “Snap out of it, you're-”

The smoke swirled around them in grayish green tendrils. She coughed and gagged on the strange smoke, clawing her way out of its clutches-

[satonthelotuspier]

Like Spring Rain. Like Starlight.

OK here we go. NieLan Fic! (P.S. It’s on AO3 if it’s easier for you to read there)

Firstly I have to thank a couple of lovely people for various reasons. Firstly @imaginaryelle for justifying me in my selfish want to write both endings I envisioned for this fic. And pointing me in the direction of their wonderful Good Omens choose your own adventure fic, as an example of (much better) execution, and a great read to boot.

Also @the-sassiest-trixster and @mylastbraincql for giving up their precious spare time to take a look at my fic and convincing me not to delete it at the 5k mark. Special extra thanks for Mei for the extra time she spent giving it a very thorough editing, if you notice it goes downhill after 5k thats 100% on me.

Also big thanks to everyone who showed interest in this at the sneak peak stage, you really made me buckle down to the idea, I really hope the rest doesn’t disappoint too much.

***

Lan Xichen retreated into seclusion following the events of the Guanyin Temple, but after months of vivid, horrifying nightmares he finally seeks out the help of the Yiling Patriarch with the intention of restoring his husband, Nie Mingjue's, consciousness.

Haunted by memories of their courtship and the knowledge that he goes against his clan’s principles, what decision will he finally make, to continue, or accept the past is gone?

***

This is a choose your own ending fic. At the end of this post will be a link to one of two different posts, which will have the ending option you chose! Happy Clicking. 

About 13k words with both endings.

CW: Mild sexual description, blood, character death (obviously!)

He was trapped. It was dark and cold, stale air clung to his skin. He reached out to encounter a solid surface directly in front of him; it was made from stone and he tried to push at it but it didn’t move even a little. Feeling around him there were similar surfaces. Walls. Like he was in a sarcophagus. The truth of his situation dawned on him then and he began to claw helplessly against the lid of what was, after all, his tomb. The panic was real and tasted metallic on his tongue, but it was nothing to the feeling of fear as he heard a rustling of cloth beside him in the darkness; one that he hadn’t created. His breath would have caught but there was no longer any in his lungs.

Then that mocking voice, “Da-ge, why would you wish to go anywhere? We have eternity together”

***

Lan Xichen shot upright in bed, his chest rising rapidly with shallow breaths that barely provided enough air. He raised a hand to clutch at the front of his sleeping robes; his hand shook uncontrollably and the hold he had on the soft cloth barely helped steady it. He still felt like he would fly apart at the emotions swirling around inside him and he raised his left arm to sink his teeth into it and try to stifle the surfeit of feelings. He tasted the metallic tang of his own blood, and it sent a visceral shock through his body at the parallels between his dream and reality.

He couldn’t accept this as his reality for a second longer; if he kept dreaming these dreams he would go mad.

He leapt from his bed, barely pausing to pull on an under robe over his sleeping robe.

Lan Xichen had retreated into solitary seclusion many months ago; truth be told he wasn’t even sure how long ago it had been, yet now he left the Hanshi for the first time in that period like his demons chased hot on his heels.

And who was to say they didn’t?

The sky was barely starting to streak with dawn’s rays as he rushed through the paths of the Cloud Recesses to the Jingshi where his brother would just be waking up beside his husband, and if anyone had seen the previously elegant, jade-like Zewu-jun tearing through the pre-dawn light, hair dishevelled and loose, headband crooked, half-dressed and barefoot, they might have assumed they’d seen a ghost. Or a madman.

He paused and knocked urgently on the doorway of the Jingshi.

“Wangji, I’m sorry to disturb you both so early” he said through the door, negating his words with another knock.

The door slid open and Lan Wangji stood on the other side, a faint look of surprise on his passive face.

“Xiongzhang-” any greeting he would have made was brushed aside as Lan Xichen rudely pushed past him and into the Jingshi.

Wei Wuxian had obviously only just woken up at the racket Lan Xichen had caused and was sitting on the side of the bed, scratching at his head sleepily. “Wei Wuxian, I need the help of the Yiling Laozu. I beg you”

Wei Wuxian leapt up with a distressed noise as Lan Xichen fell to his knees and prostrated himself.

***

Lan Xichen was around fourteen the year they had first met. He had accompanied his Shufu to the Unclean Realm for a discussion conference that summer. As his father’s heir, Lan Qiren had wanted him to begin to learn how to take on the mantle of a sect leader and so he had travelled to Qinghe.

They were greeted at the gates and escorted to their accommodations, passing by a group of practising Nie sect disciples, one of whom stood at the front seeming to lead the sword forms. He was tall, broad-shouldered even in youth, and serious looking. Lan Xichen was distracted at the sight of him and stumbled slightly, something he managed to hide - at least from everyone except his Shufu who gave him a considering look.

Lan Xichen chose to pretend he didn’t see that look, unless he was directly questioned by Lan Qiren he would keep his own council.

As he wasn’t to attend the feast that evening he found himself at a loose end and decided to take a walk to explore the Qinghe Nie seat before he lost his time to endless discussions.

He didn’t know if it was karma, coincidence, or luck that he came across the young disciple he had admired that afternoon, but he was thankful to whichever force it had been.

The other young man was a few years older than Lan Xichen, probably around sixteen, and although he had been dressed simply that afternoon, he was now clad in more extravagant robes which told Lan Xichen he was of the Nie clan rather than an outer disciple.

They introduced themselves, and he discovered this was indeed Nie Mingjue, the Nie sect heir.

Lan Xichen was young and, despite his good manners, found it difficult to stop staring at the other; his handsome features were given a certain gravity of age by the sober, focussed look he seemed to wear. The older boy appeared to be in no rush to move on either as his own eyes searched Lan Xichen’s undeniably jade-like, yet still boyishly curved features.

A noise from somewhere off in the distance broke the spell, and they walked on together; Lan Xichen hadn’t missed the faint flush on the other boy’s cheeks, and he was thankful for his own complexion rarely showing his embarrassment.

They talked of the discussion conference, that they were both older brothers who were extremely protective of their younger siblings. There was a larger age gap between Nie Mingjue and his half brother than there was between Lan Xichen and Wangji, and from their words Lan Xichen suspected the other’s was a fiercer, more involved protectiveness compared to his own nurturing, yet light touch approach.

They ran out of route to walk before they ran out of words to say as they eventually found themselves in front of the house Lan Xichen had been assigned. Nie Mingjue asked tentatively if they might perhaps spend tomorrow together.

Lan Xichen was about to apologize and excuse himself, knowing he was expected to be at his Shufu’s side in the morning, but something made him pause.

He really wasn’t a selfish creature, and he understood his responsibility, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn Nie Mingjue down. He agreed, but stipulated they had to be away early, not explaining to the elder boy it was to ensure his Shufu had no chance to foil his plot before it came to fruition.

***

The next morning before dawn Lan Xichen sneaked out of the house, his conscience dictating he at least leave a message for Lan Qiren so he would know nothing bad had happened to him.

They took horses and spent the day exploring the woodland trails around the Unclean Realm; Nie Mingjue was attentive and strove to be entertaining, as if he wanted to make the best possible impression on the younger boy. He didn’t have to try so hard though because Lan Xichen was already dangerously close to being smitten.

It was nightfall before they returned, parting ways reluctantly inside the gates, their eyes not leaving each other until the other was out of sight.

Lan Xichen received the reprimand and penalty he had expected, with promise of further retribution in the form of a stroke of the discipline whip once they returned to Gusu, to remind him of the responsibility he bore to his clan and not himself. He didn’t begrudge his Shufu the punishment as he had been fully aware his actions were not acceptable at the time he had made the decision to disappear with Nie Mingjue that morning.

The following day he attended the discussions as expected at the side of his Shufu.

He really tried to pay attention, but it was doomed from the start as Nie Mingjue was also in attendance and less than half of what went on around him registered as they constantly stole glances at each other across the hall.

He was sent back to Gusu in disgrace the very next day, his Shufu making excuses for his absence. He received the double whip strikes Lan Qiren had ordered for him and retreated to his rooms to recuperate.

***

As he sat at Lan Xichen’s bedside Lan Wangji thought he began to understand how his brother felt in those first years when he had had to watch on helplessly while Lan Wangji mourned Wei Ying’s death. Except, his brother had also lost his husband during that time, and had his own deep grief to process at the same time as trying to support his brother and raise the child Lan Wangji had returned from the Burial Mounds with.

And while Lan Xichen had found some equilibrium in the years following the death of Nie Mingjue, he had been shaken to the core of his being once again by the events of the Guanyin Temple, where Jin Guangyao’s betrayal was brought to light.

Unfortunately, instead of bringing him some measure of peace, his self-imposed seclusion seemed to have had the opposite effect.

Wei Ying paused in his contemplative pacing, “Are we at fault? Should we have done more?” the question was one Lan Wangji had asked himself, but the root of the matter was that no one could come to terms with another person’s grief for them. Lan Xichen had been forced to live through his again, alongside the knowledge he had been betrayed by the person he held closest to his heart outside of his own family, in the most cruel and vicious way.

Lan Wangji placed the bloody cloth in the red-tinted water for the last time; the fact his brother had run to the Jingshi through the Cloud Recesses barefoot showed the disturbed state of his mind; and had resulted in torn and bruised feet which Lan Wangji had tended to.

“He looks so fragile, like if I touched him I’d break him,” there was a hint of panic in Wei Ying’s tone, and Lan Wangji stood up, drying his hands off, and took hold of Wei Ying’s shoulders.

“Wei Ying, calm down,” he rubbed soothingly.

“I can’t, you heard him ask me to return Nie Mingjue’s consciousness as clearly as I did, Lan Zhan. How the fuck am I supposed to react to that? Tell him that what happened with Wen Ning was more blind luck than design? That I was just a stupid, stubborn boy who refused to accept defeat? And if I did would it be the thing that destroyed him? He can’t even rest under the effect of sedatives.” The fact he cursed was an indication of how agitated Wei Ying was, as he waved a hand at the bed where Lan Xichen frowned and clutched at the blankets periodically in his enforced sleep.

He had become so disturbed after begging Wei Wuxian to help him bring his husband back that the only thing Lan Wangji had been able to think of to do was make him tea with sedating herbs in it.

“What should I do, Lan Zhan?”

How could he guide Wei Ying when he didn’t know what the answer was himself?

He couldn’t even decide whether or not to play Song of Cleansing for his brother, unsure of whether it would do more harm than good due to the connotations the music now had for him.

***

One evening, a few days into his recuperation, Lan Xichen woke up from a doze to find his younger brother, Lan Wangji, standing by his bedside. He had such a serious, concerned look on his face Lan Xichen automatically reached out to stroke his hair soothingly; “What’s wrong Wangji?” he asked softly, hiding the wince of pain that the movement of his arm caused as it pulled at his wounds.

“Xiongzhang’s back...” Wangji whispered.

Unfortunately Lan Xichen was unable to do anything to disguise or hide the marks from Wangji; the discipline whip caused significant tissue damage, so all he was able to do was lay on his front with his back exposed and wait for the welts to heal at least enough for him to function again.

“It’s nothing, Wangji, I barely even feel it,” he lied, aware if their Shufu heard him he’d be even angrier that Lan Xichen had dared to tell an untruth, even if it was to save his brother from distress.

“Xiongzhang, why would Shufu want to hurt you?” Wangji asked, worry and confusion in his small voice.

Lan Xichen had to push himself upright then, even though the pain almost made him vomit; he crossed his legs, lotus style, and pulled Lan Wangji into his lap despite the tears he couldn’t hold back at the burning agony it caused.

“Wangji, you can’t ever think Shufu wishes to hurt either of us. He loves us; he’s taken good care of us these years even though he never expected to have to raise children,” he stroked Lan Wangji’s hair again, “I just did some bad, selfish things that disappointed Shufu. He has to set examples for the clan and outer disciples; he can’t be seen to be protecting us just because we’re his family. Shufu is doing his best, Wangji, and we must help him and not blame him. Do you understand?”

Lan Wangji didn’t look entirely convinced, but nodded anyway, before he let his head drop to rest on Lan Xichen’s slender shoulder. Lan Xichen began to sing the lullaby he had always sung to him, one he had made up using snippets of something he could vaguely remember their mother singing to them, until Lan Wangji fell asleep. He wondered how much longer he would get away with such moments with his brother who would soon consider himself too old for cuddles and lullabies, how much longer until Wangji stopped looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon and realised his Xiongzhang was just a foolish, often overwhelmed, boy who definitely didn’t have all the answers Wangji assumed he did.

There was a sound of movement by the door and Lan Xichen’s eyes rose to meet Lan Qiren’s as his Shufu entered his room; he wondered how much of their conversation he had heard.

He held his breath as his Shufu raised his hand and stroked Lan Xichen’s hair gently. There was a soft shimmer of tears in his eyes made obvious by the candlelight. They said nothing for several moments; then Lan Qiren took something out of his robe and placed it on the bed beside Lan Xichen before he lifted the sleeping Lan Wangji into his arms and carried the younger boy off to his own bed.

The item Lan Qiren had left him was a letter, but as curious as Lan Xichen was about the contents, he had used up every reserve of energy he possessed to act normally and comfort his brother, and all he had the strength left to do was resume his previous position and fall into an exhausted, pain-filled sleep.

***

Somewhat recovered, he spent the next morning reading and re-reading the letter which had been sent by Nie Mingjue.

In his solid, unembellished script Nie Mingjue expressed how much he had enjoyed their meeting, his disappointment at the fact they wouldn’t get to spend more time together due to Lan Xichen’s sudden return to Gusu, and an invitation to enter into a correspondence.

Lan Xichen didn’t know what to do for the best.

His heart told him to grasp the opportunity to keep in touch with the young Nie Sect heir with everything he had, but his head told him his inability to separate his responsibilities from his desires had already attracted his Shufu’s ire and caused himself to act in a way which wasn’t compliant with the ethos of his sect, his family’s expectation, or even his own principles.

Perhaps he could be a good friend to Nie Mingjue, and hide his selfish, baser wants in the secrecy of his own heart. This seemed like an acceptable compromise, and, a few days later when he was able to be out of bed, he took up his brush and sent a response.

He considered waiting until his hand was steadier once he saw how shaky his normally elegant and praiseworthy script turned out, but he was too eager to keep Nie Mingjue waiting any longer for his reply.

Thus began their correspondence.

They sent letter after letter, never seeming to run out of things to say to each other; Lan Xichen, master of the gentlemanly arts, also sent poetry and paintings, while Nie Mingjue, a more pragmatic, less artistic boy expressed his admiration for Lan Xichen’s creations. They talked often of their younger siblings, of cultivation and night hunts, and, despite Lan Xichen’s resolution, they talked often of their own feelings, how they would enjoy spending more time with the other when the opportunity arose.

Then came the letter that set Lan Xichen’s heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird.

Nie Mingjue would attend the Cloud Recesses to study under his Shufu in the spring; Lan Xichen pressed his hand against his chest as if that could still the quivering behind his breastbone.

***

The rest of the winter seemed to last forever and fifteen year-old Lan Xichen spent most of it telling himself he would not renege on his personal promise to be a very good friend to Nie Mingjue and accept that as enough.

Every sensible thought left his head the morning Nie Mingjue and his fellow disciples were due to arrive, however, and if he so happened to find the need to read his lessons under a Magnolia tree close to the gates of the Cloud Recesses, it was just a coincidence; this tree had a lovely amount of warm spring sunlight and shade, and it was next to a stream and the sound of running water was soothing.

It was such a nice spot, in fact, he was soon joined by Lan Wangji who brought his own lesson book and sat next to Lan Xichen with his back to the tree’s trunk, too.

Although it hadn’t been his original plan to have his now twelve year old brother in tow, Lan Xichen enjoyed the companionable silence of their shared study. At lunch he went to collect sweet fruits and water, and they had an impromptu picnic as the gentle spring breeze ruffled the grasses and blossoms around them.

Later in the afternoon the sounds of activity at the gate announced the arrival of their expected guest from Qinghe, and Lan Xichen leapt to his feet in eagerness.

Nie Mingjue was escorted into the Cloud Recesses by one of the gate guards, but Lan Xichen dashed forward, followed at a more normal pace by his brother.

“Nie-xiong!” Lan Xichen came to a stop, and, when Lan Wangji caught up the brothers  presented their greetings in perfect synchronisation. Nie Mingjue blinked a little as if to check his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“This is my brother, Lan Wangji.” Of course, Nie Mingjue would be aware of that; his double take had no doubt been a test to see if he really was seeing two of them. Lan Xichen was aware they were almost perfect copies of each other; only younger and much more aloof in the case of his didi.

Nie Mingjue returned their bow then, “Lan er-gongzi, your brother informed me you’re a considerable talent on the guqin and showing great promise as a swordsman.”

Knowing of Lan Wangji’s disinclination to talk much through his correspondence with Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue kindly thought to address his brother rather than ignore him, and, with a question to which he could give the barest of answers, or merely a nod if he felt unwilling to respond verbally.

Lan Wangji’s earlobes had turned a soft shade of pink at hearing Lan Xichen had praised him to this new acquaintance.

“Xiongzhang is too kind,” he managed, and Lan Xichen squeezed his shoulder.

“Please, let us show you to your accommodations and give you a tour of the Cloud Recesses.” Lan Xichen made the offer to Nie Mingjue which he accepted eagerly.

Lan Wangji excused himself, as he had been asked to see Lan Qiren after classes.

Suddenly inexplicably nervous, Lan Xichen set off in the direction of the guest houses.

He had been nervous, but it really didn’t take long for them to fall back into that easy rapport they had found in Qinghe while Lan Xichen showed him around the main areas of his home.

***

Lan Xichen considered the problem that evening as he meditated before bed, trying to calm his rioting thoughts.

He had wanted to keep things on a friendly footing between himself and the Nie Sect heir, and although he was young and inexperienced in such matters he had a strong suspicion that it wasn’t what Nie Mingjue wanted from him. If he was being honest with himself it wasn’t what he wanted either; he was undeniably drawn to the older boy, and, as naive as he was, he was intelligent enough to realise it was probably the first symptoms of romantic love on his part. A love he was beginning to understand he wanted dearly. And although he had promised himself he would keep things casual and friendly, he realised he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

Therefore he had to prove to himself, and to his Shufu, that he could be an adult about his feelings; that he could could love Nie Mingjue and devote himself to the other, if that was what Nie Mingjue wanted too, whilst still ensuring he didn’t shirk his responsibilities to his family and his clan.

So he avoided Nie Mingjue in the daytime when he attended lessons with his Shufu. But he waited for the older boy after every class and they spent every spare second they had together. Sometimes Lan Wangji would accompany them, something that didn’t bother Lan Xichen at all, because as long as he spent time in company with Nie Mingjue it was enough; and it was nice to see Lan Wangji come a little out of his shell with someone outside of his family. Whether it bothered Nie Mingjue or not, he never let on and he always included the younger Lan in their conversations and activities. And for that, Lan Xichen loved him even more.

Because, by the time the two months Nie Mingjue had been allotted to study at the Cloud Recesses was almost up, Lan Xichen was sure he loved the other with all the passion and fervour a first love entailed in his impetuous Lan heart.

All too soon the last lessons were over, and their last evening together started. They walked their favourite trails out of Cloud Recesses and into the mountain woodlands surrounding Lan Xichen’s clan seat. At some point Nie Mingjue dared to reach out his hand and link his fingers through Lan Xichen’s. The younger boy’s heart tripped at the gesture, before soaring in elation, and he couldn’t keep the blinding smile from taking over his face.

Lan Xichen had never felt so happy before, like there wasn’t enough room in his chest to feel the things he was feeling, and he might explode with them.

He bounded into the clearing they came upon, stood in the centre, and raised his arms and his face to the sky as if to welcome the soft spring rain that had begun to fall. It was cool and refreshing, and he eventually lowered his arms and turned to Nie Mingjue, who watched him with a look of pure adoration and indulgence on his normally serious face.

Lan Xichen was unable to contain his joy, and, unable to let it out in any other way, he began to trace the intricate steps of a dance, humming the tune his body picked out delicately.

Nie Mingjue watched on, enamoured; every move spoke of Lan Xichen’s grace and elegance, every sweep of a deep sleeve, every flare of a robe hem, every fan of his hair was perfectly timed to the music and his body’s movement.

“Dance with me,” Lan Xichen asked, holding one fair, slender hand out to Nie Mingjue, who shook his head.

“I can’t dance, Xichen, and even if I could, an oaf like me has no business trying to dance with you, whose every movement is poetry,”

“The only oafish thing about you is refusing my invitation to dance. It’s extremely ungentlemanlike.” Lan Xichen caught Nie Mingjue’s hand and, with a strength that surprised the Nie Sect heir, he pulled the other into the centre of the clearing with him. “Just follow me and pretend you have Baxia in your hand. Sword forms are just dancing with weapons.”

Lan Xichen saw some of Nie Mingjue’s resistance crumble, and he seemed to have taken his advice about sword forms on board as he tried to follow Lan Xichen’s movements, watching him carefully like he might a disciple he was sparring with; fighting techniques could be applied to dance with the right thought.

He didn’t acquit himself too terribly and eventually they stopped, grinning at each other.

“Sometimes I think you aren’t real,” Nie Mingjue took Lan Xichen’s hands in his own.

“What can you possibly mean? I’m as real as you are,” he squeezed Nie Mingjue’s fingers between his own to prove his point.

“You’re ethereal Lan Xichen, like some nature spirit made human; I don’t believe you’re a product of this harsh, cruel human world. Your soul is too pure, too beautiful. You even thought to make a brute like me dance with you and managed it, guiding me so I didn’t even fall over you too much. No mere human could do that.”

“Ridiculous!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, but he suddenly felt himself pulled into the other’s embrace, and he stiffened in surprise.

“Mingjue-xiong?”

“I like you, Lan Xichen; you must know that by now. I haven’t tried to hide it.” He feathered his calloused fingertips along the length of Lan Xichen’s jawline, tipping his face up slightly so their eyes locked.

Lan Xichen swallowed, inexplicably flustered considering he had been almost sure of the other’s feelings and of what his own were. “I like you too,” his voice sounded breathless to his own ears, and he nervously ran his tongue along his lower lip. The raindrops that still showered from the spring night sky hadn’t done much to moisten them.

“May I kiss you?” Nie Mingjue asked and Lan Xichen swallowed again, before nodding. Yes, he did want that, although he had never been kissed before and the thought of this particular one was nerve-wracking.

A shudder shook his frame, and he wasn’t sure whether it was the cool, rain-soaked robes he wore or the anticipation of what was to come.

Nie Mingjue’s fingers slid into his hair, cupping the back of his head and tilting it slightly, before he leaned in slowly to feather his lips against Lan Xichen’s, then more firmly as they found the right angles and pressures.

It was both boy’s first kiss, so it was a clumsy and awkward experience, but it was the world to Lan Xichen and he poured everything swirling in his innocent young heart into it as he linked his arms around Nie Mingjue’s neck and held on for dear life.

When they parted Nie Mingjue sighed, and stroked Lan Xichen’s cheek gently with slightly trembling fingers, “I hate the thought of leaving you tomorrow, my Graceful Starlight.”

Despite the initial thrill he felt at hearing Nie Mingjue’s endearment, some of Lan Xichen’s euphoria faded at the reminder that this was their last evening together for the foreseeable future.

“Then we have to make the next time soon,” Lan Xichen told him, trying to take some comfort from the words for himself.

***

Lan Wangji looked up from the guqin as he heard the blankets rustle as Lan Xichen stirred back to consciousness. Lan Wangji was fully prepared for the consequences of his actions, knowing they had been beneath him, although he had acted to protect his brother.

Lan Xichen rose into a sitting position, fingertips against his forehead as he seemed to take a while to come back to his full senses. It was then he realised he was in the Jingshi and looked around until his eyes fell on Lan Wangji.

“Wangji,” a frown marred Lan Xichen’s brow. “You sedated me,” he accused, as he pushed the blankets back and moved to the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” he offered no apology, and Lan Xichen didn’t expect one; he knew Lan Wangji far too well. “Xiongzhang, you worry me.” Lan Xichen’s eyes shot up to meet Lan Wangji’s, a flare of fire in their dark amber depths, before it was tamped down and his eyes slid away.

“I’m aware. As soon as Wei Wuxian returns Mingjue-xiong to consciousness, I will be fine.” He said it challengingly, daring Lan Wangji to argue with him, and Lan Wangji had to admit it was disconcerting; his brother had never spoken to him, or anyone to his knowledge, with that kind of tone before.

And it was understandable. Lan Xichen wasn’t naive enough to think there would be no opposition to his request, and he seemed to be itching to start the fight now.

There was a part of Lan Wangji that thought Lan Xichen was far too emotionally frail to survive those future battles he would have to fight if he really wanted Nie Mingjue brought back to consciousness, and that wasn’t even taking his current physical frailty into account. Lan Wangji rose to his feet and moved to the bed, seating himself beside Lan Xichen, catching his wrist and pulling his sleeve back; the bloody crescent of teeth marks on his forearm had scabbed over, but hadn’t even begun to heal yet, proving his qi wasn’t flowing as it normally should.

He pulled his own sleeve back and placed their forearms side by side.

They were both naturally slender, but in direct comparison it was obvious how wasted Lan Xichen had become in seclusion. His wrist looked so birdlike that it might snap,

“Xiongzhang, even if you have Wei Ying agree to help you with your request, the rest of the world will not just hand you what you want. You will have to fight for it, you know that. You won’t convince them if you’re constantly on the point of physical and mental collapse; they won’t trust you,” he pulled in a deep breath, not wishing to make the next ultimatum, but he had to be honest with Lan Xichen on this point, “And I will not allow you to put Wei Ying in any form of danger, either with the rest of the cultivational world or with Mingjue-xiong’s corpse.”

Lan Xichen reached across to wrap his fingers around Lan Wangji’s forearm, squeezing it soothingly to show he didn’t hold his brother’s honesty against him, “I understand, Wangji. I would do the very same to protect my husband; which is all I’m trying to do.”

Lan Wangji had no words for him, it had never been an option for him in those desolate years of Wei Ying’s death, and therefore he didn’t know how he would have dealt with the situation if he had been presented with the same choice.

For a pragmatic man like Lan Wangji not knowing how best to help his brother was both frustrating and disconcerting.

He would support Wei Ying whatever his decision was, but he was fully aware of the morally grey path they would be walking if his husband did decide to try and help Lan Xichen.

Perhaps the single plank bridge into the darkness was his brother’s to walk this time.

One more thing needed to be made clear, “Xiongzhang, I don’t need to explain how many sect rules you will be breaking in this endeavour.”

“I’m fully aware, Wangji, I will ensure neither you nor Wei Wuxian suffer for my actions, you have my word as Sect Leader.”

***

Lan Wangji was standing on the verandah of the Jingshi when Wei Wuxian returned from the library pavilion, a few books under his arm as he absently twirled Chenqing in the fingers of his free hand. He noticed Lan Wangji and joined him.

“Xiongzhang is dressing.” Lan Wangji told Wei Wuxian as the other tucked the flute into his belt as he slipped under Lan Wangji’s arm and into his embrace.

“How is Xichen-ge?”

“Less disturbed.” Lan Wangji nuzzled Wei Wuxian’s hair.

“I know you’re worried, Lan Zhan, but we’ll get him through this, I promise.” Wei Wuxian pressed his face into the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck where he seemed to fit perfectly, and they enjoyed the quiet of the moment.

Lan Wangji thought that probably meant Wei Wuxian had made his decision; he tamped down his natural worry. He would be at his husband’s side through whatever happened this time; and Lan Xichen had accepted he would stop Wei Wuxian at the first sign the Yiling Laozu was in danger from any source. Anyone wishing harm upon the Yiling Laozu would find Hanguang-jun and, hopefully, Zewu-jun in their way.

***

They pulled apart at the sound of the Jingshi’s doors opening, and Lan Xichen stepped out into the warming spring midday air.

He had dressed in robes that Wei Wuxian recognised as Lan Wangji’s; but the twin jades’ aesthetic was much the same and likely no-one else would notice.

He looked nothing like that madman who had appeared on their doorstep that morning now his ink black hair was tidied and fastened with an ornament that belonged to Lan Wangji; his headband was straightened, and the burning, half-feral look had disappeared from his face; although it was settled into a more melancholy, closed expression than Wei Wuxian had ever seen from the elder Lan brother.

There was no disguising how shockingly thin he had become in seclusion, however; it was obvious from the way the borrowed robes, that had been tailored for a man of his natural build, hung off him, looking slightly too big, and the exaggerated narrowness of the waist emphasised by the belt he wore. He would need feeding up to regain his strength.

He needed the cultivation world to submit to his request, and the best way to do so was convince them he was sure this was the best choice to make in the situation. He would need to be eloquent, sure of his conviction, and face down the other’s into agreeing. Wei Wuxian doubted he would be able to in his current physical and mental state.

He would have to work hard to get the agreement of the Sects, although so long as he could secure the agreement of Yunmeng, Lanling, and perhaps most importantly, Qinghe the rest should follow obediently.

And then the process itself would take time and effort; Wei Wuxian had vague memories of the things he had done to bring Wen Ning’s consciousness back but they weren’t entirely clear, and it would likely involve a lot of trial and error on Wei Wuxian’s part.

He couldn’t remember whether he had made a manuscript of the process at the time; perhaps he would speak to Jin Ling and gain access to look through the spoils that had been found in Jin Guangyao’s treasure room. There had been enough of Wei Wuxian’s other manuscripts kept there that if he had made such a record it was a likely place to start.

With that, and the books of cleansing, calming music he had been to the library to hunt out for Lan Wangji, he thought there were taking the first steps needed to help Lan Xichen at least ready himself for what was to come.

“Lets lunch.” he told the Lans cheerfully, and that was a start on one of the other stages; feeding Lan Xichen up into a more natural state.

***

Lan Xichen sank his teeth into the solid, muscled shoulder to stifle his cry of completion as he clung on to Nie Mingjue. The other’s large, calloused hand, currently still wrapped around them both, continued to stroke urgently, dragging soft whimpers from the younger man, until Nie Mingjue pressed his face into Lan Xichen’s neck and moaned “A-Huan, my Starlight.” into his skin as sweet aftershocks trembled through them both. A few moments later Nie Mingjue rolled onto his side and pulled Lan Xichen into his warm embrace, uncaring of the mess between them. Lan Xichen revelled in the duel feeling of utter contentment caused by sexual release and being cradled against the man he loved.

“Mingjue-gege” Lan Xichen murmured, knowing the other adored the soft, nasal sound of the endearment on his tongue; then he angled his head up to steal a kiss that was pure lazy indulgence. “Do we really have to get up today?”

“Unfortunately. I’m not willing to take the chance of your Shufu finding you in my bed. You’ve risked enough on my behalf.”

When Nie Mingjue had first seen the discipline whip scars on Lan Xichen’s back, and more importantly learned of their origin, it had been all Lan Xichen could do to stop the other from walking away from him; the knowledge he’d been the cause, however indirectly, of harm to the boy he loved had almost destroyed their relationship in that single moment. Lan Xichen was nothing if not stubborn though and he had refused to allow it.

“I’d risk them again and again for you, and for us.” Lan Xichen placed a delicate kiss against Nie Mingjue’s chin in an echo of what he had said that first time.

“Then when are you going to tell your Shufu about us, A-Huan? You’re eighteen now, I’m more than ready to declare my suit to your family; to the world. I want to be your husband; to have the right to hold you close to me as I fall asleep, and again when I wake up. I want the right to bring you pleasure, to have you come apart in my arms without worrying who will hear us through the walls of an inn. I want the right to not have to constantly be looking over our shoulders as we steal into each others rooms on the few nights a year we can arrange joint night-hunts. I want you to be mine, Lan Xichen”

Lan Xichen was deeply touched; there was no denying it. But he was also distressed; it wasn’t the first time Nie Mingjue had expressed his desire to formalise their relationship. And Lan Xichen wanted all those things too, but he was terrified his Shufu would raise objections, would find the thought of having his nephew distracted and divided between his duties as a future Sect Leader and his duties as the husband of the Leader of another Sect abhorrent, despite all the hard work Lan Xichen had put in in the last three years, trying to prove he could be everything that everyone needed him to be.

Most of all he was worried that his Shufu would express his dislike of the idea in a way that would be hurtful to Nie Mingjue; he would do anything to protect the man he loved from that kind of pain.

But it seemed he was trying to protect Nie Mingjue from that potential injury only to be causing him actual injury in another way.

“Is it because you’re ashamed of me? I know a brutish butcher’s descendent is hardly fit to even gaze upon the famed First Jade of Lan, but I didn’t think it was something that troubled you” Nie Mingjue asked him and Lan Xichen felt awful for being the person who, unwittingly, had made this proud, brave, and loving man feel like less than he was.

Lan Xichen cupped the other’s face in his warm hands, “Mingjue, if I could spend the rest of my days loved by a man as wonderful as you I would consider it the honour of my life” he pressed their foreheads together, “I never ever wanted to hurt you. I’m just scared my Shufu will. I’m terrified I haven’t done enough in the past three years to prove to him that I’m worthy to lead the Gusu Lan clan, and be the husband you deserve. I’m worried my Shufu will blame you instead of accepting my failures” throughout his admission he had held the other’s dark gaze to prove the earnestness of his words.

Nie Mingjue reached up as he finished speaking to stroke Lan Xichen’s cheek softly, “You silly boy. I don’t care about whether your Shufu is cutting with me or not; I’m willing to fight for us. I never expected you to carry that weight of responsibility alone, A-Huan, a relationship is a partnership; let me bear some of that burden with you.” Nie Mingjue bent to kiss the tears that had spilled over from Lan Xichen’s eyes at his words.

He had never heard anything more beautiful.

Lan Xichen hadn’t realised how much pressure he had put on himself the last years, trying to prove he could keep up with every aspect of his life and execute them all perfectly. With Nie Mingjue’s words it was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps sometimes he didn’t have to be perfect, because his beloved would carry the torch for him when he couldn’t.

“I love you, Nie Mingjue of Qinghe Nie,” his arms slid around the other’s neck and he pressed a soft kiss against Nie Mingjue’s smiling lips, “and it is this lowly gentleman of Lan who is unworthy of the honourable Nie Sect Leader’s love and devotion. But I will talk to my Shufu tonight, I swear it.”

“We will talk to your Shufu tonight,” Nie Mingjue corrected him; “this is for us, I want to be there too, to ask him for your hand.”

A bubble of giddiness rose up through Lan Xichen, and he couldn’t help but tease the other. “But Mingjue-gege, you’ve already had my hand. And sometimes my mouth...”

To say the Nie Sect leader was scandalised was a mild statement of the situation and the First Gentleman of the Cultivation World found himself laughing helplessly at the utterly shocked expression on the other’s serious face.

“Please don’t say that in front of your Shufu, A-Huan” Nie Mingjue shook his head in disbelief, his cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink.

***

Despite Nie Mingjue’s soothing words of the morning Lan Xichen’s stomach was in knots as they knelt, side by side, in front of Lan Qiren that evening.

He didn’t want to have to choose between the Sect he was raised to lead and the man he had been fortunate enough to come to love; he wasn’t even sure whether it would be a choice he would be able to make. Perhaps in a few years time, when Wangji was older, he would be able to walk away; if Mingjue was willing to wait for that long.

He daren’t raise his eyes from the floor, glad it would hide the sheen of tears that the thought of being forced to choose between his duty and his heart caused.

He held his breath as Lan Qiren placed the cup down on the table in front of him, and Lan Xichen curled his hands into fists inside the sleeves of his robes.

“I will speak to your Die when we return to the Cloud Recesses tomorrow and advise him to approve the betrothal”

Lan Xichen let out the breath he had been holding, feeling suddenly dizzy with relief and the intense happiness his Shufu’s words had on him. He was about to turn to Nie Mingjue when Lan Qiren began again.

“If he agrees I advise you to hold the wedding as soon as possible, no later than the summer, considering how long you have been sneaking around in the shadows together”

Lan Xichen’s soul left his body at the implications of Lan Qiren’s words; his neck felt warm, and he spared a quick glance at Nie Mingjue who had been shocked into complete stillness at the mention of their sexual relationship for the second time that day.

Nie Mingjue was about to prostrate himself and beg forgiveness when Lan Qiren raised his hand, “Nie-zongzhu may leave.”

Lan Xichen could see indecision flash across the flushed face of his soon-to-be betrothed.

He reached over and squeezed Nie Mingjue’s arm gently, willing him to follow Lan Qiren’s orders.

Nie Mingjue understood Lan Xichen’s urging and got to his feet, even if it was unwillingly. He offered a low bow to Lan Qiren before leaving nephew and uncle together in the flickering candlelight.

“I am in a particularly difficult position here” his Shufu stroked his beard, indicating he was deep in thought, “I could hardly say no to your marriage considering the nature of your relationship.” he dropped his open palm to the tabletop then, making Lan Xichen jump a little, “But I am unhappy to be tying you to a man you carried off with in secret. It speaks of the nature of your feelings that you neither felt deeply enough on the matter to go through the proper process until now.”

“Shufu!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, “It’s not like that. I love Mingjue-xiong with everything I am. Mingjue-xiong has wanted to formalise our relationship since almost his time at the Cloud Recesses.”

“How can you claim your feelings run this deeply when you refused to do so, then?”

“I was terrified you would reject him; I’ve spent the last years trying to prove to you I could be with Mingjue-xiong and be the Sect Leader you wanted me to be without failing at either. I feared you would think he was a distraction, like you did at Qinghe; that you would send him away; that you would say something to hurt him because of my shortcomings. And if I didn’t ask, you couldn’t say no.”

Lan Qiren was silent for a long time. “When we return to Gusu, you will copy Virtue two hundred times” he said eventually, “Three hundred if you dare to sneak off to that boy’s room again tonight”

“Understood, Shufu. Thank you.” Lan Xichen rose to his feet and made his own bow, forcing himself to walk slowly, as befitting his image, from his Shufu’s room.

He was already resigned to his punishment of three hundred copies of Virtue before he even closed the door behind him.

***

Lan Xichen sat across from his brother-in-law, who hid behind his open fan. He could see there was a war of indecision in his dark gaze. One Lan Xichen had fought himself on many occasions.

He sipped on the tea his host had provided, knowing he’d gain nothing by pushing Nie Huaisang before the other was ready to make his response.

“Er-ge...” it was tentative, “Is Wei-xiong really sure he can bring ge’s consciousness back?”

“No, Huaisang, I’m afraid he can’t promise success, only that he’s willing to attempt it.”

A longer pause.

“I thought, sometimes, that I might ask...but I didn’t know whether...would it be better to not…?”

Again Nie Huaisang only expressed thoughts that had occurred to Lan Xichen again and again in the long days and nights he had spent in seclusion; he had come to his own conclusion only after much reflection. He kept the basis of those conclusions to himself however; Nie Huaisang would use his own to form his decision.

They sat in silence for a while. Nie Huaisang staring blankly into the distance as he processed his thoughts. The sounds of a busy Sect base filtered in from outside on a soft spring breeze that played through the draperies of Nie Huaisang’s hall.

It wasn’t easy, it never had been, sitting here with Nie Huaisang, with the younger brother in the seat that he had been more used to seeing Nie Mingjue in; how often had he moved over and slid himself into his husband’s lap when the hall had been empty of everyone but the two of them?

There was always part of him that expected Nie Mingjue to come striding in, invigorated from some hunt, or sparring session, and boom at them both for wasting the better part of the day at whatever artistic pursuits they undertook in silent companionship.

Lan Xichen had felt he and Nie Huaisang had always gotten on well together; the other just as much a little brother to him by dint of his marriage to Mingjue than Wangji; and Lan Xichen was someone who Nie Huaisang felt understood his personality. The former was just as comfortable with a paintbrush or calligraphy pen in his hand as with Shuoyue; Lan Xichen had therefore been someone who could sympathise with both brothers in their battle of wills when it came to cultivation.

As difficult as this was for Lan Xichen, however, Nie Huaisang had to live in this hall every single day; with the memory of his larger than life brother around every corner; Lan Xichen had much respect that Nie Huaisang managed to cope with it.

That being said, and as much as he had always considered Nie Huaisang like another younger brother, he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted him anymore; there was a side of deep manipulation and scheming he, and the rest of the cultivational world, had never expected; and he was fully aware he had been used by the other at the Guanyin Temple.

The further he got away from the events, however, the less he cared about that fact.

The snap of Nie Huaisang’s fan being folded in an unusually decisive movement brought his thoughts back to the present and he looked expectantly at the other.

“I would have done anything to have saved my brother, er-ge, and there’s a part of me that hates you for trying to protect that piece of shit, for giving him access to ge, and for not noticing what went on under your nose for months, and maybe years”

Lan Xichen couldn’t even defend himself from the accusation; because there was no defence. He had accused himself of the same things over and over again since the truth had come out.

“But there’s the other part of me that knows my brother, that knows if he hadn’t wanted to swear brotherhood no amount of pressure you exerted would have been enough to convince him to do so. I also know that was the part of you he loved the most; your trust, your kindness, your willingness to see the good in everyone, your gentleness of spirit, and I know he would never have blamed you.

“I know you never once complained when you had to walk away bruised and bloodied when the sabre curse took him more and more towards the end; and how hard you worked to try and hide it from me because ge asked you to.

“And I know no one could ever blame you more than you blame yourself, er-ge, because I know that’s the kind of man you are,” he put the fan down on the table in front of him with a click. “I know you made my brother the happiest he had ever been when you agreed to marriage, and that the times after were the most treasured of his life, and for that I’ll never be able to thank you enough.

“In the end neither of us were able to protect ge in life, if I get the chance to do that in death...well...then that's a good thing”

***

In the end they were married very shortly after their audience with Lan Qiren; neither of them willing to wait a second longer than they already had, due to the misguided stubbornness on Lan Xichen’s part.

It was done with little pomp and ceremony, and with very few guests.

The only person Lan Xichen had eyes for that day was Nie Mingjue, so handsome and solemn in his red and gold robes. When he laid eyes on Lan Xichen a smile so tender and joyful pulled at his mouth Lan Xichen thought his heart might stop beating in his chest and never start again.

Later, he was scooped up in the other’s arms and carried off; he protested, “Mingjue-gege, I’m far too heavy,” he laughed at the absurdity, “I can walk perfectly well, put me down.”

“Never again, my Starlight, my husband” he was carried through the courtyard once they reached Nie Mingjue’s house, and through to the bedroom where he was placed carefully in the middle of the bed. Nie Mingjue knelt next to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Now I have the right to carry you off and keep you close all night, I’ll never stop again”

And he kept his word for the rest of his life.

It was a tragedy that they never realised what a snake with jealous eyes they harboured in their bosom, but the tale of their downfall had already been told elsewhere.

***

Lan Xichen had chosen to meditate that morning, to calm his racing thoughts and carefully construct his arguments.

He knew what he needed to say. He didn’t know how it would be taken by the assembled Sect Leaders.

He had Huaisang on side, that meant two of the four great sects were in agreement already. In reality he need only sway Jiang Wanyin of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect as Jin Rulan, the young and inexperienced head of the Lanling Jin sect, and Jiang Wanyin’s nephew, would no doubt look to his uncle’s decision for guidance on such a matter.

Jiang Wanyin was the wildcard he couldn’t predict the reaction of; that man kept his own counsel these days and rarely became deeply involved in matters of the cultivational world.

Lan Xichen thought it was probably the way Jiang Wanyin chose to protect himself after what had happened to him in the Sunshot campaign and beyond.

They were all living with the consequences of what had occurred in the wider world since the Wens had been defeated; and not many cultivators had walked away unscathed.

Despite his best attempts Lan Xichen’s mind refused to calm, and it could be entirely attributed to the fact he was now, at this stage, however ironically, questioning whether the choice he had made was the correct one.

Was it fair? Was he being entirely selfish? Would Mingjue suffer? The thoughts rioted through his mind on an endless loop, and he could garner neither sense nor reason from them.

He was brought distraction as the small delegation of his brother, his brothers-in-law, and Wen Ning arrived at his door.

Nie Huaisang looked like he’d barely slept the previous evening, he looked as if the decision weighed as heavily upon him as it did on Lan Xichen.

“Xiongzhang, are you prepared?” Lan Wangji asked, and Lan Xichen rose gracefully to his feet.

Their weeks of rehabilitation had had their positive effect on Lan Xichen; he no longer looked quite so emaciated, and the use of alternative calming songs hunted out in the Lan’s library pavilion by Wei Wuxian had helped him channel his nervous energy. Mostly.

He still dreamed the dreams; but he was able to deal with the aftermath better now.

He was about to precede the party out of the door when something occurred to him. He paused, and turned to Wen Ning, who had agreed to attend as the walking example of what they hoped to achieve with Nie Mingjue.

“Wen Qionglin, did you resent being brought back?” The question was no doubt rude, but one he felt compelled to ask once it had occurred to him.

Wen Ning wasn’t expecting the question. He glanced at Wei Wuxian, as if seeking his guidance on how to respond, but Wei Wuxian was too busy, (probably purposefully), trying to get Lan Wangji’s attention to help him out.

Nie Huaisang’s sharp gaze was also avidly fixed on the Ghost General.

“Lan-zongzhu, I was happy to be given the chance to return and protect my loved ones.” The answer was a diplomatic one, and told them nothing. And perhaps everything.

He looked at Nie Huaisang, who’s face held the same torn, undecided expression his must now be showing.

Please choose:

It’s time to let the past go, I won’t continue with our plan.

~ or ~

The future is waiting for us, I will continue with our plan.

[thatboomerkid]

RIFT

RIFT is an obscure Discipline -- rare in the extreme, born of anguish & remorse, sharpened through tear-streaked centuries of nightly struggle against the most obscene appetites -- that allows practitioners of its weird, flagellant art-form to coalesce their Beast into a quasi-living, sentient Umbral Realm bound eternally to their shadow: a sprawling, labyrinthine nightmare-dimension.

Through this monstrous realm, the Damned may walk.

And in this place, other things -- ancient things, titanic, hungry and inhuman -- soar corpse-pale skies lit by rotting, pulsating black stars, and dive through creaking forests of twisted-iron atrocity rising from endless oceans of blood.

Rift is an updated Discipline designed for use with Vampire: the Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition, inspired by content from A World of Darkness (First Edition, 1992).

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

If you enjoy this content and would like to see more dark, modern horror game-material by the author, the Bloodlines & Black Magic Kickstarter is going on right now.

Hugest of thanks to John Miętus for his invaluable editing-assistance and development during the creation of this fan-content.

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HISTORY

In the long black centuries between the rise of the Baali from their cursed organ-pit and the ascendance of House Tremere to majestic undeath, it is known that Saulot performed innumerable private pilgrimages to far-flung, moonlit realms in an eternal, fruitless search for the enlightened state whispered of as Golconda.

Some occult scholars claim that, in desperation, the Antediluvian sat silently for several decades at the feet of Shinbutsu-shūgō masters, wreathed in holy incense, the toll of tsurigane and a coil of unending thirst: contemplating the infinite sins of his undying lineage, reflecting upon his Heaven-ordained duty to his Progenitor and seeking to divest himself of all worldly attachment.

If so, it is possible that his incalculable and fathomless meditations produced the first echo of what would come to be known in later millennia as Rift.

Whether this is truth or mere fabrication, students of esoteric history trace the first known demonstrations of the Rift Discipline to a nomadic brood of Malkavians calling themselves ‘Gaki’ -- or ‘Hungry Ghosts’ -- who hunted the Silk Road during the 8th century. These wandering, blood-drenched emperors of jade & dust claim to have been taught the technique by a wandering Far-Eastern mystic who bore a shining third eye upon his brow & spoke in koan-like riddles about the Ten-Thousand Hells awaiting the Children of Caine.

The Gaki Bloodline

Rumors persist that a true bloodline of Malkavians -- or Malkavian Antitribu -- eventually emerged from among the far-wandering Gaki coteries, and that the eerie bloodline persists into the modern nights; a minority of Gehenna researchers claim that a cabal of such creatures were active in Tokyo as recently as the 1970s, drifting silently through the long, smog-shrouded neon shadows of that vast metropolis in search of fresh-spilt blood.

If there is any truth to these claims, those of the Gaki Bloodline suffer the full Derangement weakness of their parent clan; in addition, their perceptions are twisted by their hunger: when a Gaki is down to a number of Blood Points lower than her Humanity or Path rating, her world fades into a sinister & ghostly sea of potential victims, immediate physical threats, drifting fog and the whispers of the kumonosu. During this time, she is unable to focus on any other input -- such as traffic lights, the distant sound of gunfire or whether she’s standing in an apartment, on the street or in a fetish-club -- unless she expends a point of Willpower to shake off the unreal cloak of her hallucinations for the remainder of the scene.

The Gaki possess the Bloodline Disciplines of Auspex, Obfuscate and Rift.

Elder members of the Bloodline are known to have traded extensively in ancient nights with far-voyaging Gangrel of the Silk Road, and often possess some combination of Animalism (for use in controlling the Beast), Fortitude (for use in surviving botched Courage rolls when evoking Rift) and Protean (for general use in traveling the winding paths of the world in safety).

Since that time, the Discipline has vanished and resurfaced repeatedly, passed from master to apprentice; in these Final Nights, it is as likely to be practiced by a Nosferatu neonate dwelling in the gutters beneath a methadone clinic as it is to be wielded by a salon of elder Toreador Antitrubu who make an art of their own grandiose self-destruction.

The technique is very quietly forbidden within the Camarilla, as a pair of recurring themes amongst those who practice the art-form are a fondness for Diablerie and a penchant for experimentation in Dark Thaumaturgy ... although knowledge of the art is also -- somewhat surprisingly -- kept in secret among several coteries of particularly puritanical Josian devil-hunters.

REQUIREMENTS

Rift may only be taught by another, more-experienced master of the art-form. It cannot be learned from demons, spirits or other non-Kindred tutors. It cannot be gained at Character Creation nor selected as a Caitiff Discipline or Additional Discipline (pg. 494) unless explicitly approved by the Storyteller.

Once a Kindred has a greater number of dots in Rift than she possesses in any other Discipline, she may thereafter instruct herself in the Discipline through meditation; after this time, she no longer requires a tutor.

A Kindred may only possess a total score in Rift equal to one half the total number of points of Humanity she has lost since her Embrace.

Thus, a Kindred may not gain her first dot of Rift until she has lost at least 2 points of Humanity. If she wishes to gain a second dot in Rift, she must have lost at least 4 points in Humanity.

An elder who wishes to gain her sixth dot in Rift must, therefore, have lost at least 12 points in Humanity over her long, blood-splattered unlife.

In addition, upon gaining her first dot in Rift, the practitioner of this art gains the Nightmares Flaw (pg 485). She gains no bonus points of any kind for accepting this Flaw. If she already possesses Nightmares, the novice practitioner of Rift must instead select another Mental Flaw -- such as Deep Sleeper or Lunacy -- as deemed appropriate by the Storyteller, representative of her new reality: each time she slumbers, she is pulled deep into her own Rift to experience the most grotesque of tortures at the hands of her Beast ... and all its victims.

Note that proficiency in Rift is in no way dependent upon a vampire’s current Humanity total: a vampire with a Humanity of 10 could freely learn & utilize five full dots worth of Rift, so long as she had lost at least 10 points of Humanity at some point in her past.

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PHILOSOPHY

Rift is, fundamentally, about grief & regret.

It is about falling into the Abyss. It is about witnessing yourself lose the grand, shadow-draped chess-match against your own ravening Beast in a slow, ugly war of attrition. It is about shame, sorrow & self-reproach. It is about confronting your own subconscious desire to be punished for your sins, watering this garden with blood, and allowing the tangled forest of self-hatred to grow wild, dark & unchecked. It is about accepting one’s own damnation and the personal hell that comes with it, facing-down your worst fear wrought in a storm of ash & flame, and dying -- torn into a thousand screaming fragments -- over and over and over again.

It is about what awaits you in the dark, whether at the end of another blood-slick night of terror or at the final, jagged end of a squandered immortality.

On the surface, of course, Rift is about bridging the world of flesh to the nightmare realm, dancing along the weirding way between them with a twist of will & blood, flaunting the crude, limited physics of this concrete universe.

And, up to a point, it is that as well.

For these reasons, tutoring a potential student in Rift is prohibitively difficult.

For one, it is near-impossible for an instructor to gauge how much torment their would-be apprentice has already endured. Has this supplicant to the power you wield already begun to feel her soul & sanity crumble, crawling her way back up with broken fingers from the awful precipice of the gaping, blood-slick pit?

Or is she a mere pretender to such evil?

If she has not yet begun to grow her own Rift & populate the personal hell that she will soon steal-into like a thief, how do you tell an apprentice “go now, and commit atrocities, that you might regret them later?”

How do you remind her that the Beast is ever hungry, that it feasts with cold delight in the deep blackness upon those who would seek to dance around it?

Most Kindred simply do not possess the temperament to master Rift, and it is all but unknown among those who walk a Path of Enlightenment.

SYSTEM

Much like Obfuscate, Rift requires no expenditure of Vitae to activate its power. It requires concentration and cannot be used in Frenzy.

In addition, it is -- in theory -- quite a subtle power, with few obvious effects visible to the outside observer.

Any use of Rift automatically causes all mundane and electronic recording equipment within line of sight of the practitioner to glitch-out for a split-second; a video-camera cannot capture an image of hell by training on the Damned, instead recording only a few frames of static & distortion.

However, a practitioner of the Discipline must always first attempt a Courage roll whenever she channels the nightmare of her own private damnation; attempting this roll does not require an action, and the Difficulty of this roll is always equal to 4 + the level of the Discipline power to be activated.

DECLARING INTENT

Whenever a Damned chooses to activate any ability of the Rift discipline, she must specify exactly what level of the Discipline she intends to use. She cannot, for example, activate Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge and then -- once within her Rift -- decide to activate Dance of Unstable Nightmares unless she immediately attempts an additional Courage roll.

If this roll is unsuccessful, one of the following three things occurs:

the ability fails, as the Damned -- at the last moment -- draws back in terror from the eternity of suffering she has built for herself, brick by blazing & razor-wreathed brick.

the Damned may expend a point of Willpower, forcing open the gateway between worlds through sheer desperation.

the roll is a Botch, which has special rules noted below.

If the practitioner chooses to force the power of her Rift upon the unsuspecting world in this way, the effects of her Discipline are Obscene, as noted below.

A practitioner of Rift may always choose to voluntarily fail her Courage roll (no roll required), expend her Willpower and unleash her Rift in a wave of Obscenity, if she so desires.

If the Courage roll is Botched, the practitioner is consumed in a wave of horror & nightmare-flame emanating from the Rift bound to her. This deals a number of levels of Aggravated damage equal to the level of the Discipline power to be activated.

This damage may be soaked as normal (via Fortitude).

This damage is additionally reduced by one level for each religious item or icon the Damned carries; these items are destroyed utterly when the raw power of her unleashed Rift tears through her: silver crosses are deformed into unrecognizable twists of tarnish & rust, wooden prayer-beads blaze for a single moment with unholy fire before being reduced to greasy ash, and earrings emblazoned with the Sacred Heart shatter into splinters of smoking ruin with a bitter scream and a waft of brimstone.

The Damned may carry a total number of such items or icons equal to her Humanity score. These items must be worn or carried for at least 24 hours before they may be sacrificed in this way.

Note that religious items carried by the practitioner of Rift must match the faith (if any) of the Damned: atheist Kindred cannot benefit from them at all, and most creatures cannot gain the benefits of both a Star of David and a Holy Rosary at the same time.

Members of the Gaki Bloodline, famously, were the exception to that rule: true Universal Polytheists, they adorned themselves with sacred items from every culture they encountered, practicing as many good-luck & purification rituals as they could learn in an eternal mania to ward-off evil.

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LEVEL ONE:

Echo of Hells: Upon activating this technique, the practitioner of Rift chooses any one creature who likewise suffers the hunger of an undying Beast; she may communicate silently with that individual for the remainder of the scene.

This creature must be within line-of-sight to the Damned for contact to be established (but see below).

All attempts to communicate with this creature are automatically successful unless the other Damned chooses to block such contact; a Howl of the Devil-Tiger Kuei-jin who speaks only Early Middle Japanese may choose to ignore the alien whispers of a Western undead channeling the screams of her Rift, but their communication otherwise surpasses all language barriers.

If the Damned chooses to communicate with a fellow practitioner of the Rift Discipline who is known intimately to her, this communication may be performed over any distance; she must know the name, face, scent, touch and taste of her partner before communication may be joined in this way.

This technique, at the Storyteller’s discretion, may be used to communicate with creatures including ghouls, as they are subject to Frenzy, as well as Black Spiral Dancers, Nephandi, Formori and Risen but it cannot -- for the most part -- otherwise be used to communicate with mortals.

Obscene: If this technique is unleashed as Obscene, all creatures within ten feet of the chosen target hear a cacophony of discordant & hideous whispers emanating from the target for as long as your communication lasts.

Unlike more potent gifts of this Discipline, mere exposure to this technique is not enough to harm flesh.

LEVEL TWO:

Unveil Damnation: By use of this technique, the practitioner of Rift may draw another into her shadow-realm of eternal agony, if only for a moment, forcing her target to bear witness to the vampire’s private hell ... and to endure, for the space of a mortal heartbeat, its myriad torments.

This is a fully-immersive psychic onslaught: the victim cannot avoid this experience by averting her eyes, nor by covering her ears and screaming, although many creatures will instinctively attempt to do so.

ON THE TEN-THOUSAND HELLS

It is known that each Rift opens upon a different realm of perfect suffering, each uniquely tailored by the Beast of the Damned to accentuate the fear, shame, violence, frustration, guilt, trauma and horror they have endured ... and perpetuated, returned onto them a thousand-fold.

Before a player may gain any levels in the Rift Discipline, she must be able to describe to her Storyteller the basic nature of her particular damnation: one might be a breathtakingly beautiful rain-drenched forest, with a different victim of the Damned crucified upon each tree, through which she is chased in nightmare by the flaming corpses of all those she has Diablerized; another Rift might open into an endless, boiling desert of black sand, pillars of salt, coils of rusted razor-wire and pits of jagged glass shards, watched-over eternally by seven hateful, cataract bio-luminescent spheres roiling across the bruise-colored sky in a chorus of screams.

A Storyteller should work closely with her player to help detail this realm, drawing from the character’s misdeeds, phobias and failures.

This ability functions identically to the Level 2 Presence ability Dread Gaze (see page 194) with the following adjustments:

The Damned rolls Perception + Awareness to determine her success with this ability rather than Charisma + Intimidation.

This is not a Presence ability and is thus not subject to defenses such as Pavis of Foul Presence (pg. 236).

The victim of this technique may immediately attempt a Perception + Empathy roll (Difficulty equal to the practitioner’s current Willpower). If this roll is successful, she gains deep insight into the Nature, Demeanor, psychology and morality of the Rift-practitioner; at Storyteller discretion, this may give the victim an advantage against the Damned in later scenes or allow her to predict the Rift-practitioner’s next move.

Obscene: If this technique is unleashed as Obscene, all creatures within ten feet of the intended target bear witness to the same flash of utter horror ... and are thus subject to the effect of the ability (although the Difficulty to terrify these additional targets is doubled from its base; the Damned rolls Perception + Awareness separately for each target). Each target, as normal, may attempt a Perception + Empathy roll to analyze the tormented inner psyche of the Rift-practitioner.

In addition, the initial target of this ability suffers one level of lethal damage from exposure to such horror; the Difficulty to soak this damage is equal to 2 + the level of the Discipline used (see below).

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LEVEL THREE:

Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge: By use of this technique, the Damned may depart the world and physically enter her own Rift, vanishing as she steps backwards into her own shadow.

The Damned is invisible & intangible while hidden within her Rift, but she may be observed as an eerie, discolored silhouette in empty space by any outside observer scanning the area with Auspex or a similar supernatural perception ability.

She may only carry clothing, keepsakes, one-handed weapons and other small personal items with her when she steps into her Rift in this way; she may not carry other creatures with her, nor anything that requires more than one hand to hold. Any object too large, heavy or bulky to be carried across (subject to Storyteller discretion) is simply dropped at her feet in the world of the living when the Damned steps into her own Rift in this way.

Experienced practitioners of Rift can often instinctively guess what objects are too large to be carried across in this way, and are rarely surprised at being stripped of their held possessions when evoking this technique.

The Damned may choose to leave items within the realm of her private hell and retrieve them later.

At the conclusion of each turn spent in her personal hell, the Damned must succeed at a Courage roll with a Difficulty equal to her Conscience. Upon failing this roll, she returns to the night-lit world of the living. She may always choose to return of her own volition before failing this roll. Returning from her private hell does not require an action.

The Damned is always aware of what occurs directly on the other side of the veil between worlds -- in the space she previously occupied -- and may gaze out of her personal hell to observe the world beyond without any roll.

The Damned always returns to the living world in the same spot from which she departed, stepping back into the space she previously occupied.

Obscene: If this technique is unleashed as Obscene, the depths of the practitioner’s personal hell are briefly visible for all to see as the Damned steps backwards; all creatures who witness the Damned vanish are subject to the Obscene version of the Level 2 Rift ability Unveil Damnation, as above. In addition, the Damned leaves residue from her private hell on all surfaces with which she was in-contact when this technique is activated, potentially marking the floor upon which she stood with foul rain-water, drifts of ashen rust or tiny shards of gore-caked bone, glass and ceramic tile.

The practitioner of Rift may choose a single target within her line of sight when she uses this Unveil Damnation ability to be the initial or “intended” target of the ability. She must stare directly at that single target when this technique is activated.

LEVEL FOUR:

Dance of Unstable Nightmares: When the Damned exits her Rift, she may choose to reappear in any place in the living world that she can see clearly.

Thus, she might return to the world standing atop a building visible from her previous location, but not on the other side of a locked door.

Obscene: As Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge, above, except that the Damned additionally brings residue from her private hell with her when she exits that hideous realm, marking her passage in two places.

LEVEL FIVE:

Call-Forth the Majestic Nightmare: When the Damned enters her Rift, an entity from deep within her Rift is pulled into the night-lit world of the living; this creature immediately occupies the space vacated by the Rift-practitioner.

This entity is the true Beast of the Damned made manifest in flesh. Its specific appearance is left to the player and her Storyteller to decide, although it is always visually identifiable as -- at least in some way -- similar to the Damned who summoned it up from her personal Wheel of Punishment. It also bears an uncanny resemblance to any creature diablerized by the Rift-practitioner.

The entity possesses statistics identical to the Damned, with the following differences:

The entity is always in Frenzy and has a Humanity of 0. If the entity ever leaves Frenzy, it immediately vanishes.

The entity gains all the benefits of Black Metamorphosis (pg 189), Horrid Form (pg. 242), The Form of the Cobra (pg. 210) or a similar physical enhancement effect (such as the Fractura ability of Striga), as chosen by the Storyteller.

The entity is not bound in any way to creatures who hold a Blood Bond over the Damned, nor is it subject to similar emotional restraint or control (as adjudicated by the Storyteller).

The entity will preferentially target anything it sees as a threat to the Damned that created it, and will always attempt to murder anything that attacks it.

Once its safety is secured, the entity turns its abhorrent attentions to the living world. The entity hates the practitioner of Rift who called it forth and seeks to cripple & disfigure all that the Damned holds dear, targeting allies & friends of the Damned if it is able (although it does not attempt to destroy them outright).

In any instance, the entity revels in utter destruction.

When the practitioner of Rift returns to the world, the entity vanishes.

Any blood consumed by the entity is wasted when it vanishes.

Obscene: As Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge, above, except that the nightmare entity constantly drips (or sheds) matter from the depths of the practitioner’s private hell, leaving a trail of horror as it rampages.

------

Cross the Nightmare Bridge: When the Damned chooses to enter her own Rift, as per the Level 3 technique of this Discipline, she may remain within that nightmare realm for an indefinite period of time (no Courage roll required). She must slumber, as normal, when sunlight falls on the living world beyond, and her thirst grows nightly: there is no blood to drink within the confines of her hell.

If the Damned falls into torpor while beyond the borders of her Rift, she falls backwards out of her own shadow and returns physically to the living world.

She is otherwise free to explore the boundless realm of her eternal damnation as she pleases.

Obscene: As Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge, above.

------

DEVELOPER’S NOTE:

Unlike the majority of Disciplines, Rift allows access to two distinct Level 5 powers. Access to these two different abilities is treated identically to Elder Disciplines such as Karmic Sight and Mirror Reflexes (pg. 140-141).

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LEVEL SIX:

Distend & Evacuate the Nightmare Hoard: By use of this technique, the Damned may deposit any inanimate object held in-hand into her Rift; the object seemingly vanishes, like a card disappearing in a display of slight-of-hand. Only an object that might be transported via Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge may be relocated into the depths of a private hell in this way.

The Damned may likewise draw-forth any object deposited into her private hell.

Obscene: If this technique is unleashed as Obscene, the item enters or exits the Rift in a wave of unhealthy matter from the depths of nightmare, dripping bits of a private hell into the waking world. An item drawn from the Rift in an Obscene way radiates palpable, toxic waves of this energy, and deals 1 level of Lethal damage to any creature (except the Damned) touching it within the next minute. The Difficulty to soak this damage is equal to 2 + the level of the Discipline used (see below).

-----

Sinister Winds of Unstable Nightmare: By use of this technique, the Damned may choose to deposit any waking-world object held within her private hell in a location she can see. Targeting a particularly specific location with the object -- such as ‘the small space between my opponent’s glasses and his eyes’ -- when the object emerges requires a Perception + Occult roll, Difficulty 7.

Obscene: As Distend & Evacuate the Nightmare Hoard, above.

LEVEL SEVEN:

Covetous Eyes of the Nightmare Thief: By use of this technique, the Damned may deposit any unattended inanimate object within her line of sight into her Rift. Only an object that might be transported via Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge may be relocated into the depths of a private hell in this way.

Obscene: As Distend & Evacuate the Nightmare Hoard, above.

Doorway Out of Hell: By use of this technique, the Damned may establish a permanent physical exit from her Rift into the living world, usable only by her. This portal requires only a moment to establish: the Damned must touch an open, bounded doorway or archway of any kind -- such as a torii gate or a closet door in the home of her ghoul -- and expend a permanent Willpower. The Damned may always choose to exit her Rift through this doorway, rather than returning to the world at the spot she entered her private hell, or at a point in space within line of sight (as per Dance of Unstable Nightmares).

This doorway may not be used to enter the Rift.

The Damned may posses a total number of doorways out of her Rift equal to her Humanity or Path rating. The Damned may dismiss any doorway she has created at any time, from any location, without effort.

Obscene: If this technique is enacted as Obscene, the enchanted doorway leaks hideous drifts of matter & energy from the depths of the practitioner’s personal hell; this miasma marks the area around the doorway, twisting the local environment into something eerie, nightmarish and haunted. Any living creature that dwells within the area surrounding the doorway must succeed at a Willpower roll (Difficulty 7) at the end of each 24 hour period or gain a temporary Derangement; these Derangements stack. All Derangements gained in this way fade when the mortal spends at least 24 hours outside of the environment surrounding the doorway. If this Willpower roll is botched, the Derangement is permanent.

LEVEL EIGHT:

Pull of Nightmare: By use of this technique, the Damned can forcibly draw an unwilling creature into her Rift as she enters; the Damned must first touch the target, requiring a Dexterity + Athletics or Brawl roll if this action is performed in combat. A creature touched by the practitioner when she steps into her own nightmare realm may oppose this pull with a Willpower roll (Difficulty 7); her successes are opposed by the practitioner’s Manipulation + Brawl roll (Difficulty equal to the target’s Humanity or Path rating + 2).

A creature pulled into the practitioner’s Rift in this way is immediately exposed to the effects of a targeted Unveil Damnation; she can attempt to push herself out of the Rift (Willpower roll, Difficulty 6) at the end of each round spent within the nightmare realm. The Difficulty of this Willpower roll decreases by one at the end of each round. If the victim botches a Willpower roll of this type, she gains a permanent Derangement.

The victim is otherwise trapped in a hostile alien environment, alone with the Rift-practitioner. The victim is not aware of what occurs on the other side of the veil between worlds and cannot gaze out of hell to observe the world beyond.

If the Damned chooses to exit her private hell, the victim is immediately shunted back the world of the living. The Damned may choose to deposit the victim in any legal location for her to exit the Rift: she might dump the victim through a Doorway Out of Hell or in any location visible from her current position.

The Damned may choose to exit the Rift in a different location, and she may choose to send her victim back early at any time as a free action.

Obscene: As Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge, above.

Fling Wide the Embrace of Hell: By use of this technique, the Damned may allow a willing entity access to her private hell. She must expend a point of Willpower while touching her ally; the two may then enter her Rift together. A creature pulled into the practitioner’s Rift in this way is immediately exposed to the effects of a targeted Unveil Damnation.

The Damned may choose, when she returns to the living world, to leave her ally behind -- within the Rift -- for any length of time, although the nightmare realm does not contain the necessary resources to sustain life: it lacks potable water and edible food, among other amenities.

A living creature held in the Rift must succeed at a Willpower roll (Difficulty 7) at the end of each 24 hour period or gain a temporary Derangement; these Derangements stack. All Derangements gained in this way fade when the mortal spends at least 24 hours outside of the Rift. If this Willpower roll is botched, the Derangement is instead permanent.

A creature brought into the Rift can only be subsequently removed from the Rift by the Damned who brought her in; the visitor must be touching the Damned when the Rift-practitioner exits back to the living world.

The Damned may have a total number of visitors dwelling within her Rift equal to her Humanity or Path rating.

Obscene: As Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge, above.

image from here

LEVEL NINE:

Imprison Within Eternal Nightmare: Whenever the Damned successfully draws a target into her private hell via Pull of Nightmare, the effect is permanent: the victim does not automatically exit the nightmare-realm when the Damned returns to the world of the living, nor does she receive any additional Willpower rolls to push herself free.

The victim may only exit the Rift when the Damned chooses to release her.

Rumors persist, of course, of powerful rescue-parties successfully invading the Rift of a Methuselah, but these tales are likely just that: mere legend.

The Damned may have a total number of prisoners caught within her Rift equal to her Humanity or Path rating.

Obscene: As Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge, above.

Manifest the Atrocity-Leviathan: The Rift of a true ancient is vast, containing multitudinous continents of horrors, hung like pulsating iridescent tumors in an ever-shifting constellation of depravity, sadism and self-hatred, laced-through with vast coils of razor-wire & city-sized shards of ichor-drenched obsidian.

Things -- unholy and undying things, born under no sane stars, armored and adorned with horrid & fleshy scribbles of frothing-mad blasphemies -- begin to breed in the shadowed places beneath that kaleidoscope of rotting, rust-caked punishment-houses. By means of this technique, such a monstrosity may be briefly loosed upon the living world.

This ability functions identically to Call Forth the Majestic Nightmare except that the entity summoned-up, rather than possessing statistics identical to the Damned, is something more terrible still.

It is left to the Storyteller’s discretion as to what terror of flesh or spirit could possibly prove more dangerous than an insane 4th-Generation vampire backed into a corner, but the Storyteller is advised to use her most wicked imagination in crafting such a cataclysm ... and not to shy away from true cosmic horror.

Obscene: As Step Upon the Nightmare Bridge, above.

Rift is an updated Discipline designed for use with Vampire: the Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition, inspired by content from A World of Darkness (First Edition, 1992).

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

If you enjoy this content and would like to see more dark, modern horror game-material by the author, the Bloodlines & Black Magic Kickstarter is going on right now.

Hugest of thanks to John Miętus for his invaluable editing-assistance and development during the creation of this fan-content.

[miscellanyofmusings]

Grimscribe Aesthetic Meme

REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG AND DO NOT DELETE THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION.

The following quotes and phrases are taken from the stories in Thomas Ligotti’s anthology Grimscribe. Some of these quotes were slightly tweaked for the sake of this meme. If you enjoy the imagery or writing in this meme, please support the author by purchasing his work. Content warnings for horror in general and brief mentions of blood, gore, nihilism, unreality, body horror, clowns, and insects.

Bold what applies to your muse.

Muse: (If you are a multimuse blog, specify what muse you are filling this out for.) Tagged by: Tagging:

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 The Last Feast of Harlequin

A place behind the clownish mask / an enthusiastic urgency / sunny fields and farms / steeply roofed houses / a weird distortion of perspective / an album of old snapshots / a pointed hat jauntily askew / a billboard displaying a group of grinning vegetables / a neutral, bureaucratic voice / blue-green ink / a brilliant and profound circus of learning / a quotation from Poe’s “The Conqueror Worm” / a feeling of frigid numbness / dull, earth-colored scenery / the snowfalls of late autumn / black, ragged clumps of abandoned nests / the thin light of a winter afternoon / poles raveled with evergreen / holly wreaths / green lights / green streamers / peacock green floodlights / an eerie emerald haze / chthonic divinities / miniature candy canes / colored lights that bloom out of flower-shaped sockets / a chilling brilliance of manner and expression / sea-green lights / the face of an adept clown / a heart bathed in green / another coldness within the cold / warmly wrapped bodies and green-scarved necks / worried and guilt ridden glances / a wormy mass / the black void of winter / the brightness of an artificial spring / a great green rainbow / green gleaming streets / the dark immensity of a winter night / an effect of stricken horror and despair / an inhuman likeness more proper to something under the earth than above it / a festival within a festival / depressingly pallid clowns / the particular kind of hatred of resulting from some powerful and irrational memory / optimistic greenery in a period of gray dormancy / a kind of obnoxious intelligence / freezing atop an icy throne / commitment to a meaningful mania / bodiless invisibility / seeing without being seen / a sea of zigging and zagging celebrants / the darkness of narrow country roads / innocent normalcy / icy wind / trembling with cold / lanterns that beam with dazzling and frosty light / cadaverous clowns / the apex of darkness / a long snowy robe / moody malignancy / pure unlived lives / all the many shapes of death and dissolution / a dirge for existence / a sea of thin, bloodless faces / icy beauty / a moment of frozen trance / the death known to those whom the gods have first made mad / the welcoming glow of green / slow and silent and entrancing / a velvety white abyss / the paradise of the unborn

The Spectacles in the Drawer

A double-handled dagger with a single blade of polished stone / tall cabinets / ceiling-high shelves / tantalizing arcana / glistening fog / a tedious clarity / a cyclone of strange patterns and colors / spasms of sardonic hilarity / a pale-blue blade / stiff, crackling pages / a seeker of recondite knowledge / undying hope / a gutful of shame and regret / a small and silvery knife / a razor-sharp letter opener / a pair of old-fashioned wire-rimmed spectacles / everything that fascinates / the wish to look away / an infinite and overwhelming scene / the dazzling diffusion of all known universes / landscapes without end / landscapes that are themselves alive / a life unknown to mortal eyes / form and motion / design and dimension / cilia wriggling / mammoth shapes lurching in outline / an obscure oceanic niche / a mere fragment of all that there is to see and to know / labyrinthine astronomies / constant transformations of both appearance and essence / a witness to the most cryptic phenomena that exist or could ever exist / the ultimate thing waiting to be born / still greater visions / a cataclysm which will be both the beginning and the end / unbearable anticipation / ecstasy and dread / the ultimate source of all manifestation / the absolute and the wholly unknown / a revolution of all matter and energy / the visions remaining active inside you, deep in your blood / to be dazzled in the worst way / the total substance of things / an occultist auction / a disreputable quarter of a foreign city / a student of the Gnostics / artificial eyes / a malicious aim to undermine / a child’s awkward embrace / rusty scales / cockeyed bookcases / broken toys / standing ashtrays / desolate bazaars / the charm of disenchantment / a tilting mirror / a climate of dull horror / sinister whispers that make no sense yet seem filled with meaning / sensations of infinite expansiveness and ineffable meaning / astronomical emotions / a mutilated carcass / something of terrible rawness / a torn and flayed thing / microscopic precision / twitching and quivering like a gory heart / hellish giggling / a haunting, lifelong memory / unfathomable depths of feeling / to suffer over and over / a way to kill a dream / the sheltering shadows of one’s home / sobering shadows / a cold and stagnant peace / esoteric ecstasy / vulgar pain / a broad expanse of empty field / a mosaic of mirrors / a shocking galaxy / redundant reflections / dark stars on a silvery firmament / to see with countless eyes / a body ripped raw / a gallery of glass and gore

Flowers of the Abyss

The first rank scent of autumn / a glass of water / a thirsty walker of the woods / a pale flower amongst the dark summer trees / a ghostly flower of autumn / grayish planks / a pallid lily / a pulpy toadstool / a roof of rippling shingles shaped like scales from some great fish / sea-green and sparkling / attic gables with paned windows / the tip of a tear / hundreds of raindrops / light rain / an icy autumn storm / a fragrance damp and decayed / walking ahead of the clouds / the echo of hollow words / a long crooked arm / malodorous gardens of misshapen growths / an oval mirror in an ornate frame / cobwebbed corners / tilting books / something shapeless and nameless / something dampish and submerged / something swampy and abysmal / the pure cold of an autumn storm / a dusty green bottle / a sparkling glass / a world of frozen light / cool and limpid water / the hardness of a jewel / a small music box / stars of sound / twilight shadows and silence / infinitesimal flakes of light / barren decor of dead days / yellowish haze / silvery tones / a tenebrous expanse / unknown exploits / the madness of things / a vagabond of the universe / a drifter among spaces / a mess of hacked pieces / dark horizon meeting dark horizon / a universe of darkness / a convulsing tangle of shapes / the radiant entrails of hell / rain-softened soil / parted waters rushing to remerge / corrupt waters / sticky and pumping veins / slimy tendrils / aberrations of the abyss / a night-gowned figure / a crowd carrying lights / lamps and lanterns bobbing in darkness / clusters of flames / buried like a forgotten dream

Nethescurial

Delicate, crinkly script / greenish-black discoloration / dark waters / moonlit skies / earth mounds / mountain peaks / northern leaf and southern flower / each star and the voids between them / blood and bone / watchful winds / murky waters below / contorted rock formations / pointed pines and spruces of gigantic stature / sea-facing cliffs / stagnant fog / an omnipresent evil / a sleeping sense of doom awakened into full vigour / evil, beloved and menacing evil / sunshine and flowers / darkness and dead leaves / some shaping force of demonic temperament / wartlike hills / tumorous trees / oil lamps scattered about / a sacral glow / a degree of mutual ease / the verdigris of centuries / decomposing jade / pandemonism / cold gray waters / a mere mask for the foulest evil / an absolute evil whose reality is mitigated only by our blindness to it / the universe as a dream / the feverish nightmare of a demonic demiurge / an abstract monster of metaphysics / an altar of coarse stone / skinny shadows / to be actually bound in blackness / white-faced shadows / luminous smoke / glowing, ectoplasmic haze / something thick and oily and strangely colored / an ancient anonymity / spirits beyond all hope or consolation except in the evil to which they would abandon themselves / a ceremony of the chosen / an ancient, darkened mould / petrified lichen / wrought iron tracery / great overgrown gardens of writhing coral / a chaos of little carvings / a world of demonic faces and forms / oneiric visions / inkish waters / an infinitely extensive body of evil / the gods of the ordinary world / dream-induced illusions / visionary intrusions / a banquet of fear / what is squirming beneath every surface / penetrating the usual armor of objects / dark and greenish / garbled whisperings / an island of grass and trees in the middle of the city / globes of light balanced on slim metal poles / a glowing orb / set in the great blackness above  / trees swishing overhead / muddied green / walking some indefinite time along some indefinite route / strings of colored lights / a tall, illuminated booth / clownish creatures / expressionless faces and dead puppet eyes / slow, monotonous phrases mingling like the sequences of a fugue / the faces of the living and the dead / wind-blown trees / the greenish darkness of the night / mold-colored smoke / a squirming, creeping, smearing shape / a great deformed crab / the black oceans of infinity / the island of the moon / the cancerous totality of all creatures / oozing ichor / dying in a nightmare

The Dreaming in Nortown

A solitary perdition / a mind to remember the stages of their downfall / a mirror to multiply their abject glory / a memoir of dreams / peculiar powers of sympathy / a decaying and spacious apartment / an ill-mapped world of dreams / a slightly infernal aroma / an acrid combination of tobacco and autumn nights / a small red glow / a long threadbare overcoat / many pungent Octobers / the remote heights or depths of an artificial paradise / the stumbling words of a returning explorer / a stuporous and awed voice / midnight assemblies / in the grip of strange mystical ecstasies / long red hair / esoteric development / a general tenor of chaos / a quality which may or may not make for good company but which always offers promise of the extraordinary / a contrived noisiness / a strange catalogue of sounds / low moans emanating from the most shadowy chasms of dream / sudden intakes of breath / the suction of a startled gasp / abrupt snarls and snorts of a bestial timbre / expressions of unknown turmoil / the calm darkness of the night / staccato groans / the entire audible spectrum of nightmare-inspired terror / mingling overtones of awe and ecstasy / a willing submission to some unknown ordeal / the deeper registers of somnolence / the smell of a freshly lit cigar / the dun colors of dawn / a flood of eidetic horrors / fleeting scenes of nightmare / a reverberating slam / a note scrawled upon a slip of paper / a disproportionate anxiety / the imagined threat of a reprimand / the frayed end of a disciplinary whip / colors twisting in blackness / a tentacled abyss / bone-colored stars / a dream-distorted voice / a spiral notebook with a cover of mock marble / mystical masochism / feats of occult daredevilry / glimpsing the inferno with eyes of ice / a doomed determinism / the striving for horrific dominion over horror itself / wobbling glitter / a field of venomous colors / the glistening inner skin of deadliest nightshade / the entrancing fragrance of fear / the city’s lurid glamor / cryptic badges whose significance is known only to the initiated / comic colors from an electric spectrum / a chilly autumn evening / engraved brass / dingy neon / a black autumn sky / scattering sparks across the sidewalk / flea-market antiquities / calling feline-voiced / colorful chaos / neon signs streaming across the night / clothed in flashing colors / a many-hued phantasmagoria / a flickering and disorderly rainbow of dreams / a multitude of indecisive thoughts and impulses / a brick and neon landscape / a frigid and fragrant October night / darkness and a voice / a coarse scream / a pulsing opalescent aura / a delirious blend of images derived from nightmare/ an ominous sunrise over a dark horizon / a field of fear / a painfully lush iridescence / a burnt-out patch of earth / newspapers mutilated by time / two fresh cigars / a thin book-like box / a scene from some Boschian hell / a hideous series of transfigurations / the screaming mass of a damned soul / an abyss of nightmares / explorations in a hell of one’s own choosing

The Mystics of Muelenburg

Trees made of poster board / houses built of colored foam / mud and dust and ashes / a nightmare of nonsense / fantasy, that misty domain of pure meaning / dim and empty storage space / an ancient armchair / reposing far beneath crumbling rafters / surveying remote worlds / a burst of fireworks / buzzing like flies in the blackness / glow worms flitting in the blinding sun / to keep the sun in the sky / to keep the dead in the earth / a universal vice / a parasite of chaos / a maggot of vice / the prospect of absolute terror / men in the mouths of demons / withholding heaven’s light / the pointed shadows of peaked roofs and jutting gables / faded artifacts of a dead town / high castle turrets / grayness undisturbed / ashen twilight / the yellow light of lamps / sumptuous chambers / humble rooms / the lost luxury of shadows / an infinite vault of glowing dust / a deception by demons / old deities formerly driven from the earth / shadows streaming horribly / the twitching light of a thousand candles / prismatic jewels / a greyish whirlpool / indefinite twilight / the blackness which is the domain of death / necromantic learning / drunken dialogues / unparalleled credulity / fluidity, always fluidity / an ornamented void / the stars and moon / the legions of the dead

In the Shadow of Another World

Walking down streets at twilight / watered lawns / the edges of leaves / pale specters within a fog / the infinite sky itself / gently stirring trees / old silent houses / strange cities disguised as clouds / the depths of a vast, echoing abyss / a blurry little window with a crack in it / a tree-lined street / a pale sky at dusk / peaks and porches / worn wooden steps / dreams and vapor posing as solid matter / a fabulous overlap of properties / petrified flesh / gigantic bones from great beasts of old / chimneys and shingles / a shadow on the horizon / a thing of nightmarish beauty / impossible hopes / a kind of ceremonious desolation / translucent festivals / the faraway sounds of mad carnivals / an instinct for mystification / dubious spectacles / trumped-up histrionics / immaculate to the point of being suspect / a plush and well-tended mausoleum / where the dead are truly at rest / oppressive awareness of other times / secret conspiracies with departed spirits / the unnatural mood of twilight / sinister echoes / dark, polished floors / lofty, uncobwebbed ceilings / a malign presence in the cellar / an insane shadow in the attic / thaumaturgic curios / a hermetic chant of the heavens / no hint of hauntedness / an innocent ambiance / a spiritual wasteland / spiritually antiseptic surroundings / a twisting and tenuous stairway / shattered panes of glass / misshapen glyphs / the shadowy nuances of clouds / a twisted kaleidoscope of colors / the aura of stained-glass cathedral / some obscure desecration / prismatic lenses / that of the dead or the demonic / an eclipse of this world’s vision / a quivering translucence / iridescent sterility / the aftermath of a strange exorcism / neither hallowed nor unholy / a pristine laboratory / a science of nightmares / a small, lamplit library / night’s darkness / a voice that’s accustomed to speaking of miracles / mystical freakshows / a grave sincerity / dissonant overtones of fear / the shadows of another world / forms of specter or demon / the eyes of the flesh / a luminous hell / psychic survival / hopelessly dreaming / terror recollected in tranquility / mazy trauma / the sensations of the soul / a monstrous mystery / a theoretician of nightmares / crude and cryptic designs / a remote and shadowy stage / an adept of pasteboard visions / mucilage and gauze / pulling the strings of light and shadow / shadows gathering / a strange radiance / phosphorescent panes / superlunary light / some cosmic tapestry / a haunted world / the marriage of insanity and metaphysics / a spectral ontogeny / a pageant of nightmares / sunlit bazaars in exotic cities / transparent masks / insectoid countenances / moonlit streets in antique towns / a strange-eyed slithering / dim galleries of empty museums / a ghostly mold / the sullen hues of old paintings / sticky luxuriance / pulpy warmth / an uncanny flux of sounds / cadaverous generations / sculptures of human coral / bodies heaped and unwhole / limbs projecting without order / eyes scattered and searching the darkness / a monument to Terror / a maze of interconnecting doors / spectral monstrosities / the cover of masks / the concealment of stones / feverish properties and intentions / a framed phantasmagoria / grotesque transfigurations / a systemless cosmogony / the caprice of the immaterial / weirdly lucent rooms / chaotic fantasies / narrow, spiraling stairs / the gazing eye of some god / a pyrotechnic craze of colors /  a vibrating echo of vocal utterance / swirling sights / a vacuum and a void / doubtful strategies / unknown and extravagant possibilities / occult theories / arcane analyses / the irreducible certainty of nightmare / great shadows in the stars / an infinite catastrophe / protective sigils / the full glare of starlight / stars and shadows / privileged arcana / the enchantments of hell / cold sunlight / the visionary time of twilight

The Cocoons

A gloved hand twitching / a rather unapologetic tone / egg-shaped pills / a half-glass of water / a soft grinding noise / a quietly urgent voice /  blotched vapors /  a growl of exasperation / unpeopled avenues / a mass of shadows / a landscape without pattern or substance / the moon shining / a doubtful glance / a devastated plain / an open field heaped with debris / bits of glass and scraps of metal / lunar spaciousness / a skeletal structure with all markings of identity scraped off its bones / a densely tangled nest of houses / the dull light of the moon / a yellowish swatch of illumination / high wooden fences / a ruined turret grazed by moonlight / a minor mania / a cobwebbed corner / a blank battered wall / warped floor moldings / a watery light / the quivering light of candles / an old-fashioned film projector / the whirring of a projector / a visual record of a scientific experiment / dark wiry appendages /  a pair of slender snapping pincers / tiny translucent wings / glistening but useless / malicious eyes / a dubious look / candles flickering like fire-flies / a cold swamp of shadows / a collection of bones / dazed silence / a clockwork world / sunrise schedules / lunar routines / a pandemonium of forces / a phantasmagoria of possibilities / the shadow of a laugh /  a curious hedonism that can’t be controlled / the vagaries of omnipotence / breeder of indulgence / languorous exhaustion / a psychic matter / unheard of habits / languorous exhaustion / a clown’s oversized grin / bliss on the brink of apotheosis / a universal process of transfiguration / restless skittering / a pitiful delight / giddy pride / demoniac undercurrents / the grotesque ultimatums of creation

The Night School

A high, full moon shining among the spreading clouds / shadows singing with the clouds / a slowly flowing mass of mottled shapes / a kind of unclean outpouring / the black sewers of space / the wall of night /  smoke, dense and dirty, rising up to the sky / the spastic flames of a small fire / a slender gentleman / a dark suit / broken bones / the process of degeneration / the mulchy rot of autumn or early spring / yellowish light / dark scabby bricks / ruined factories / ravaged mausoleums / abandoned orphanages / a blossom of the cemetery or the cesspool / guttering candles / blurred remnants of past lessons / cloacal forces / time as a flow of sewage / drowning in the pools of night / a thousand molting autumns / the melting soil of spring / a pair of yellowish eyes / undiluted darkness / a darkness far greater than the night itself / consolidated darkness / the science of a spectral pathology / a philosophy of absolute disease / the metaphysics of things sinking into a common disintegration or rising together / dark rottenness /  filthy smoke from some smoldering source of expansive corruption / the scent of corruption / the nostalgic perfume of autumn decay / the feculent muskiness of a spring thaw / smoky blackness / the offal of worlds in decline / the dark compost of those about to be born / the primeval impurity In which all things are founded / native putridity / pieces of paper with strange symbols on them / the very face of a plague—pustulant, scabbed, and stinking terribly / a black fog / many voices crying and calling from total blackness / tightly packed earth in a grave / the disease of the night / bright flames / the noise of a fire and the wind / a full moon / shining bright and blurry / a luminous mold / the great sewers of night

The Glamour

A fine aura of fantasy / both blurred and brightened / a starless evening / diamonds of plate glass / old buildings of dark brick / the display window of a toy store / a chaotic tableau of preposterous excitation / mechanized monkeys / fated antics / tiny cymbals / the destined pirouettes of a music-box ballerina / a newly sprung jack-in-the-box / strangely picturesque / dreamily illuminated / sculptured frosting / a winter landscape of swirling, drifting whiteness / snowy rosettes / layers of icy glitter / a glacial kingdom / a brilliant arctic scene / a vitality of enterprise / a glossy light / the placidly enigmatic expressions of a different time / faded lighting / an old photograph / the kind of acute anticipation that a child might experience at a carnival / a possessing impulse without object / wretchedly aglow / a long, narrow corridor with a single light set far into its depths / a strange shade of purple, like that of a freshly exposed heart / a purple lamp / arterial light / a deep pink / a richly blooded brain / a beating heart / wispy shrouds / sparse hairs sticking to the scalp of an old corpse / purple-tinted glass / the darkness of a theater / a swarm of filaments / an elaborate chandelier / a sickly, liverish shade / an operating room where a torso lies open on the table / a palette of pinks and reds and purples / diseased viscera imitating all of the shades of sunset / headstones in a graveyard / endless filthy alleys / long desolate corridors in an old asylum / the dripping passages of a sewer / a dust-blinded window / a dark unvisited cellar / a mirror gone rheumy with age / facets of murky crystal / cobwebs / long pale threads / hazy purple light / the slow curling of thin smoke / a great rectangular web / the ever-mutating images of clouds / a surge of dark elation / a sudden chill announcing bad weather / a vibrant presence / an expression of avid malignance / inner webbings / swirling fibers / wild shocks of twisting hair / a portrait of atrocity / lust for sites and ceremonies of mayhem / writhing cobwebs / reaching tendrils / graveyards and alleyways / a joyous hysteria / a pale purple / sinister and seamy regions / spectral ambiance / all pervasive purple coloration / the labyrinth of a living anatomy / palest pink / a purple light / putrid chambers and cloisters / an infernal land / fleshy, gelatinous integuments / translucent tissue / the theater of a mad surgery / hair-thin sutures / unseen hands designing unnatural shapes and systems / weaving a nest in which possession would take place / the weaver and web-maker / an old puppet-master / setting a helpless creature with new strings / through eyes unknown / purple shadows / a type of degraded rapture / a seizure of debauched panic / webs of hair / great evil / an appeal for deliverance / eyes that would see what should not be seen / stray threads pulled from a sleeve or pocket / a paralytic silence / eyes gazing fierce and malignant / a purple glow / two shafts of the purest purple light / an old woman with glowing eyes

Father Sevich’s Visit

A manner at first vaguely troublesome and afterward rather attractive / the arrival of a priest / the very echoes of the air / mellow afternoon sunlight / dark wooden floors / pale contortions of ancient wall paper / invisible games / abstract dread and a bizarre sort of indebtedness / a thick maze of propositions / a well-made bed / a relentless failure / cloistral tunnels / vaulted penetralia / a single column-clutching hand / the necessary features of fear / a maddening task / a series of completely irrelevant expressions / misty-eyed wonder / cretinous bafflement / smiling in an almost amiable way at one one’s impending doom / the trap of expectation / a sleepy whisper / the sound of soft conversation / the world of good manners and polite talk / a look of incompleteness / some unfinished effigy in a toy maker’s workshop / something vital to expression / the purple-robed mysteries of priesthood / animated eyes / withered things reeking of medicine and prayer / a painfully delicate subject / varnished wood / salvation through suffering / sacred horrors / the divine destiny toward which the paths of anguish have always led / volumes of blessed agony / an attitude of prayerful pleading / torturing demons / a single squatted devil / bristling lashes that sprout like weeds / an explosion of miniature grotesquerie / a brief and calculated absence / a modest fund of moral energy / a macabre icon / profane lessons / a countenance of true terror / a ridiculously empty slate / an off-stage atrocity / a cycle of mute, incredible lore / anthropomorphic mist / an eerie lividity / unconscious hours of darkness / a chronicle of truly unspeakable things / the light of every constellation in the visible universe / the oppressive mysteries of the autumn season / thick orange crayons / black cats / black paper / a hopeless urge for innovation / a tiny white collar / dripping with fever / hat and cloak and walking stick / narrow, nocturnal streets / a fairy-tale vision / serpentine lanes / the distorted glow of street lamps / the thinnest blade of moon / a narrow niche / an unpaved lane / a small courtyard surrounded by high walls / the stars above / jaundiced lamplight / a stairway of cut stone / the earth and absolute blackness / tiny lights glimmering like stars / clouds of shadows / some golden metal / a caricature of serenity / a hand as white as the whitest glove / chaotic rays / underworld starlight / a certain expression of rarefied scorn or disgust / indignant shadows / black, ankle-high shoes / the natural nightlight of the moon / an infernal aura or an angelic halo / a planet revolving its unspeakable tonnage in the blackness of space / a small bottle of holy water / secret denial and privilege / a smile of deep contentment

Miss Plarr

Misty, drizzling days / sharp, urgent rappings at the front door / a world of darkening mist / mist-covered locks / listening with intense expectancy / the world’s chaos of faces / a seething luxuriance / dark battlements of clouds / a mute and sullen twilight / a stone-gray sky / those days all shackled in gloom / a fugue of noise / the livid radiance of moonlight / the wild shape of some night-blossom / some strange and cruel kingdom / an intimate dungeon cell reserved for the most exclusive captivity / constant, noisy marauding / sedentary or stealthy rituals / an abyss of unspoken reproaches and suspicions / some ancient seagoing vessel / an old oil lamp / a series of quite fascinating lectures / a kind of brutality and an air of exile / deliriums of earth and sky / fog-bound islands in polar seas / shadowed realms littered with dead cities / peaks lacerated by unceasing winds / a bluish slime / the proper way to behave / the great mists of spring / murky sheets of ice / a world of shadows bound in place / the sound of something that stings the air / the hissing of rainy afternoons / immense blades sweeping over vast spaces / expansive wings cutting through cold winds / long whips lashing in darkness / intangible sympathies / a dark mesh of nightmares / a foul nest in which one’s own suspicions are swarming / links to a strictly mundane order / a briskness that seems to be an effort / a heavy spring dampness / lost to the world of wholesome practicalities / a hypnotic and fateful determination / a child’s weakness for prospects of misadventure / a fog-smothered landscape / a pale, floating web / an immense and awful kingdom / a patternless conglomerate of crystals / a misty graveyard / angular and many-faced monuments / the mountainous and murky thunderheads of a rainy season / the very essence of a storm / a matter of suspicion and conjecture / atrocious potential / fogs and mists and gray heaping skies / a conspicuous stridency / a dour mystique / a gray mist / skies of hissing rain

The Shadow At the Bottom of the World

Some feverish intent / sheaves of cornstalks standing brownish and brittle in a newly harvested field / a sky of empty light / fiery leafage / something dark, something abysmal / small shadowy voices / sweet wine turning to vinegar / a hysteric brilliance / displays of thorn apple, sumac, and towering sunflowers / crooked roadside fences / a moonlit field / a bright round moon / nocturnal solitude / patched-up overalls / worn flannel / the withered leaves of cornstalks / moonlight spread across a dead field / a great idol in shabby disguise / a sacred avatar out of season / fidgeting bemusement / a leaden vault of clouds / pure sunlight / misty dreams of the past night / a vine-twisted stone wall / dormant vines / a strange network of dead veins / calculated grayness / radiant leaves / legions of local cicadas / a dark fungus / of the blackest earth / a rich loam / a bog of shadows / an abyss in the outline of a man / the feel of wind and water / a few shifting flames / flames of only the slightest warmth / black flames / the molten texture of spoiled fruit / a shriveled scarecrow / an armory of axes, shovels, and other implements / an eccentricity of the harvest / a viscous mire / innumerable insects laughing / sprouting blackness / a perverse reluctance / the great shadow of a moonless night / the dark rustling depths of the season / the glass globes of streetlamps / the dense leaves of elms and oaks and maples / blazing auras / the frigid aurora of dawn / frost-powdered earth / shadows and corn shocks / countless insects chattering unseen / the feverish life of the earth / the wrinkled grimace of decay / corrupted by vile impulses / a mound of soft dirt / the darkish grooves of ancient bark / the mottled complexion of old flesh / a multitude of crooked smiles / a freakish mask painted with russet, rashy colors / a virulent intensity / an autumn night when fields lay ragged in moonlight / moist and fertile shadows / a hollow-eyed howling malignity / the cold emptiness of space / the pale gaze of the moon / the depths of an extraordinary harvest / insecure hints and delvings / the luxuriant shadow of trees / the mocking plumage of a strange season / an array of whims and suspicions / scraps of lush color / gold and crimson hieroglyphs / deathless leaves / an ill-formed village / a hideous impersonation of a face / leprous masks / knotty shadows / a subterranean craze of roots and tendrils / an underworld riot of branching convolutions / gnarled ornamentations / autumnal decay / knives and axes and curving scythes / countless colored leaves / pronouncements of dire or delightful curiosity / a dull trance / a wild luminousness / a diamond-bright fever burning within / perennial strangeness / tenacious foliage / softly glowing against a black sky / an untimely nocturnal rainbow / a harvest of hues / peach gold / pumpkin orange / honey yellow / winy amber / apple red / plum violet / the pyrotechnics of a new autumn / a thousand glittering dreams / a rigid scarecrow / a patchwork of shadows / a quivering glow / a premature craving / an expertly whetted blade / a betrayal or deception on the part of creation itself / something buried deep within appearances / something that wears a mask to hide itself / holding a spatula like a weapon / moldering shadows / a dreamless sleep / a sudden rage of mortification / the remains of a dismantled scarecrow / an ashen autumn morning / the feeling of blood / a bottomless grave

[turquoisedays]

Grimscribe Aesthetic Meme

REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG AND DO NOT DELETE THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION.

The following quotes and phrases are taken from the stories in Thomas Ligotti’s anthology Grimscribe. Some of these quotes were slightly tweaked for the sake of this meme. If you enjoy the imagery or writing in this meme, please support the author by purchasing his work. Content warnings for horror in general and brief mentions of blood, gore, nihilism, unreality, body horror, clowns, and insects.

Bold what applies to your muse.

Tagged by: Me, myself and I, because I’m ALWAYS A SLUG FOR THOMAS LIGOTTI.

Tagging: @choujin @mothersins @flowerytruth (You decide which muse! >:3c) @givealls (For Kazuma mayhap?) annnnnnnd my other blog.

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The Last Feast of Harlequin

A place behind the clownish mask / an enthusiastic urgency / sunny fields and farms / steeply roofed houses / a weird distortion of perspective / an album of old snapshots / a pointed hat jauntily askew / a billboard displaying a group of grinning vegetables / a neutral, bureaucratic voice / blue-green ink / a brilliant and profound circus of learning / a quotation from Poe’s “The Conqueror Worm” / a feeling of frigid numbness / dull, earth-colored scenery / the snowfalls of late autumn / black, ragged clumps of abandoned nests / the thin light of a winter afternoon / poles raveled with evergreen / holly wreaths / green lights / green streamers / peacock green floodlights / an eerie emerald haze / chthonic divinities / miniature candy canes / colored lights that bloom out of flower-shaped sockets / a chilling brilliance of manner and expression / sea-green lights / the face of an adept clown / a heart bathed in green / another coldness within the cold / warmly wrapped bodies and green-scarved necks / worried and guilt ridden glances / a wormy mass / the black void of winter / the brightness of an artificial spring / a great green rainbow / green gleaming streets / the dark immensity of a winter night / an effect of stricken horror and despair / an inhuman likeness more proper to something under the earth than above it / a festival within a festival / depressingly pallid clowns / the particular kind of hatred of resulting from some powerful and irrational memory / optimistic greenery in a period of gray dormancy / a kind of obnoxious intelligence / freezing atop an icy throne / commitment to a meaningful mania / bodiless invisibility / seeing without being seen / a sea of zigging and zagging celebrants / the darkness of narrow country roads / innocent normalcy / icy wind / trembling with cold / lanterns that beam with dazzling and frosty light / cadaverous clowns / the apex of darkness / a long snowy robe / moody malignancy / pure unlived lives / all the many shapes of death and dissolution / a dirge for existence / a sea of thin, bloodless faces / icy beauty / a moment of frozen trance / the death known to those whom the gods have first made mad / the welcoming glow of green / slow and silent and entrancing / a velvety white abyss / the paradise of the unborn

The Spectacles in the Drawer

A double-handled dagger with a single blade of polished stone / tall cabinets / ceiling-high shelves / tantalizing arcana / glistening fog / a tedious clarity / a cyclone of strange patterns and colors / spasms of sardonic hilarity / a pale-blue blade / stiff, crackling pages / a seeker of recondite knowledge / undying hope / a gutful of shame and regret / a small and silvery knife / a razor-sharp letter opener / a pair of old-fashioned wire-rimmed spectacles / everything that fascinates / the wish to look away / an infinite and overwhelming scene / the dazzling diffusion of all known universes / landscapes without end / landscapes that are themselves alive / a life unknown to mortal eyes / form and motion / design and dimension / cilia wriggling / mammoth shapes lurching in outline / an obscure oceanic niche / a mere fragment of all that there is to see and to know / labyrinthine astronomies / constant transformations of both appearance and essence / a witness to the most cryptic phenomena that exist or could ever exist / the ultimate thing waiting to be born / still greater visions / a cataclysm which will be both the beginning and the end / unbearable anticipation / ecstasy and dread / the ultimate source of all manifestation / the absolute and the wholly unknown / a revolution of all matter and energy / the visions remaining active inside you, deep in your blood / to be dazzled in the worst way / the total substance of things / an occultist auction / a disreputable quarter of a foreign city / a student of the Gnostics / artificial eyes / a malicious aim to undermine / a child’s awkward embrace / rusty scales / cockeyed bookcases / broken toys / standing ashtrays / desolate bazaars / the charm of disenchantment / a tilting mirror / a climate of dull horror / sinister whispers that make no sense yet seem filled with meaning / sensations of infinite expansiveness and ineffable meaning / astronomical emotions / a mutilated carcass / something of terrible rawness / a torn and flayed thing / microscopic precision / twitching and quivering like a gory heart / hellish giggling / a haunting, lifelong memory / unfathomable depths of feeling / to suffer over and over / a way to kill a dream / the sheltering shadows of one’s home / sobering shadows / a cold and stagnant peace / esoteric ecstasy / vulgar pain / a broad expanse of empty field / a mosaic of mirrors / a shocking galaxy / redundant reflections / dark stars on a silvery firmament / to see with countless eyes / a body ripped raw / a gallery of glass and gore

Flowers of the Abyss

The first rank scent of autumn / a glass of water / a thirsty walker of the woods / a pale flower amongst the dark summer trees / a ghostly flower of autumn / grayish planks / a pallid lily / a pulpy toadstool / a roof of rippling shingles shaped like scales from some great fish / sea-green and sparkling / attic gables with paned windows / the tip of a tear / hundreds of raindrops / light rain / an icy autumn storm / a fragrance damp and decayed / walking ahead of the clouds / the echo of hollow words / a long crooked arm / malodorous gardens of misshapen growths / an oval mirror in an ornate frame / cobwebbed corners / tilting books / something shapeless and nameless / something dampish and submerged / something swampy and abysmal / the pure cold of an autumn storm / a dusty green bottle / a sparkling glass / a world of frozen light / cool and limpid water / the hardness of a jewel / a small music box / stars of sound / twilight shadows and silence / infinitesimal flakes of light / barren decor of dead days / yellowish haze / silvery tones / a tenebrous expanse / unknown exploits / the madness of things / a vagabond of the universe / a drifter among spaces / a mess of hacked pieces / dark horizon meeting dark horizon / a universe of darkness / a convulsing tangle of shapes / the radiant entrails of hell / rain-softened soil / parted waters rushing to remerge / corrupt waters / sticky and pumping veins / slimy tendrils / aberrations of the abyss / a night-gowned figure / a crowd carrying lights / lamps and lanterns bobbing in darkness / clusters of flames / buried like a forgotten dream

Nethescurial

Delicate, crinkly script / greenish-black discoloration / dark waters / moonlit skies / earth mounds / mountain peaks / northern leaf and southern flower / each star and the voids between them / blood and bone / watchful winds / murky waters below / contorted rock formations / pointed pines and spruces of gigantic stature / sea-facing cliffs / stagnant fog / an omnipresent evil / a sleeping sense of doom awakened into full vigour / evil, beloved and menacing evil / sunshine and flowers / darkness and dead leaves / some shaping force of demonic temperament / wartlike hills / tumorous trees / oil lamps scattered about / a sacral glow / a degree of mutual ease / the verdigris of centuries / decomposing jade / pandemonism / cold gray waters / a mere mask for the foulest evil / an absolute evil whose reality is mitigated only by our blindness to it / the universe as a dream / the feverish nightmare of a demonic demiurge / an abstract monster of metaphysics / an altar of coarse stone / skinny shadows / to be actually bound in blackness / white-faced shadows / luminous smoke / glowing, ectoplasmic haze / something thick and oily and strangely colored / an ancient anonymity / spirits beyond all hope or consolation except in the evil to which they would abandon themselves / a ceremony of the chosen / an ancient, darkened mould / petrified lichen / wrought iron tracery / great overgrown gardens of writhing coral / a chaos of little carvings / a world of demonic faces and forms / oneiric visions / inkish waters / an infinitely extensive body of evil / the gods of the ordinary world / dream-induced illusions / visionary intrusions / a banquet of fear / what is squirming beneath every surface / penetrating the usual armor of objects / dark and greenish / garbled whisperings / an island of grass and trees in the middle of the city / globes of light balanced on slim metal poles / a glowing orb / set in the great blackness above  / trees swishing overhead / muddied green / walking some indefinite time along some indefinite route / strings of colored lights / a tall, illuminated booth / clownish creatures / expressionless faces and dead puppet eyes / slow, monotonous phrases mingling like the sequences of a fugue / the faces of the living and the dead / wind-blown trees / the greenish darkness of the night / mold-colored smoke / a squirming, creeping, smearing shape / a great deformed crab / the black oceans of infinity / the island of the moon / the cancerous totality of all creatures / oozing ichor / dying in a nightmare

The Dreaming in Nortown

A solitary perdition / a mind to remember the stages of their downfall / a mirror to multiply their abject glory / a memoir of dreams / peculiar powers of sympathy / a decaying and spacious apartment / an ill-mapped world of dreams / a slightly infernal aroma / an acrid combination of tobacco and autumn nights / a small red glow / a long threadbare overcoat / many pungent Octobers / the remote heights or depths of an artificial paradise / the stumbling words of a returning explorer / a stuporous and awed voice / midnight assemblies / in the grip of strange mystical ecstasies / long red hair / esoteric development / a general tenor of chaos / a quality which may or may not make for good company but which always offers promise of the extraordinary / a contrived noisiness / a strange catalogue of sounds / low moans emanating from the most shadowy chasms of dream / sudden intakes of breath / the suction of a startled gasp / abrupt snarls and snorts of a bestial timbre / expressions of unknown turmoil / the calm darkness of the night / staccato groans / the entire audible spectrum of nightmare-inspired terror / mingling overtones of awe and ecstasy / a willing submission to some unknown ordeal / the deeper registers of somnolence / the smell of a freshly lit cigar / the dun colors of dawn / a flood of eidetic horrors / fleeting scenes of nightmare / a reverberating slam / a note scrawled upon a slip of paper / a disproportionate anxiety / the imagined threat of a reprimand / the frayed end of a disciplinary whip / colors twisting in blackness / a tentacled abyss / bone-colored stars / a dream-distorted voice / a spiral notebook with a cover of mock marble / mystical masochism / feats of occult daredevilry / glimpsing the inferno with eyes of ice / a doomed determinism / the striving for horrific dominion over horror itself / wobbling glitter / a field of venomous colors / the glistening inner skin of deadliest nightshade / the entrancing fragrance of fear / the city’s lurid glamor / cryptic badges whose significance is known only to the initiated / comic colors from an electric spectrum / a chilly autumn evening / engraved brass / dingy neon / a black autumn sky / scattering sparks across the sidewalk / flea-market antiquities / calling feline-voiced / colorful chaos / neon signs streaming across the night / clothed in flashing colors / a many-hued phantasmagoria / a flickering and disorderly rainbow of dreams / a multitude of indecisive thoughts and impulses / a brick and neon landscape / a frigid and fragrant October night / darkness and a voice / a coarse scream / a pulsing opalescent aura / a delirious blend of images derived from nightmare / an ominous sunrise over a dark horizon / a field of fear / a painfully lush iridescence / a burnt-out patch of earth / newspapers mutilated by time / two fresh cigars / a thin book-like box / a scene from some Boschian hell / a hideous series of transfigurations / the screaming mass of a damned soul / an abyss of nightmares / explorations in a hell of one’s own choosing

The Mystics of Muelenburg

Trees made of poster board / houses built of colored foam / mud and dust and ashes / a nightmare of nonsense / fantasy, that misty domain of pure meaning / dim and empty storage space / an ancient armchair / reposing far beneath crumbling rafters / surveying remote worlds / a burst of fireworks / buzzing like flies in the blackness / glow worms flitting in the blinding sun / to keep the sun in the sky / to keep the dead in the earth / a universal vice / a parasite of chaos / a maggot of vice / the prospect of absolute terror / men in the mouths of demons / withholding heaven’s light / the pointed shadows of peaked roofs and jutting gables / faded artifacts of a dead town / high castle turrets / grayness undisturbed / ashen twilight / the yellow light of lamps / sumptuous chambers / humble rooms / the lost luxury of shadows / an infinite vault of glowing dust / a deception by demons / old deities formerly driven from the earth / shadows streaming horribly / the twitching light of a thousand candles / prismatic jewels / a greyish whirlpool / indefinite twilight / the blackness which is the domain of death / necromantic learning / drunken dialogues / unparalleled credulity / fluidity, always fluidity / an ornamented void / the stars and moon / the legions of the dead

In the Shadow of Another World

Walking down streets at twilight / watered lawns / the edges of leaves / pale specters within a fog / the infinite sky itself / gently stirring trees / old silent houses / strange cities disguised as clouds / the depths of a vast, echoing abyss / a blurry little window with a crack in it / a tree-lined street / a pale sky at dusk / peaks and porches / worn wooden steps / dreams and vapor posing as solid matter / a fabulous overlap of properties / petrified flesh / gigantic bones from great beasts of old / chimneys and shingles / a shadow on the horizon / a thing of nightmarish beauty / impossible hopes / a kind of ceremonious desolation / translucent festivals / the faraway sounds of mad carnivals / an instinct for mystification / dubious spectacles / trumped-up histrionics / immaculate to the point of being suspect / a plush and well-tended mausoleum / where the dead are truly at rest / oppressive awareness of other times / secret conspiracies with departed spirits / the unnatural mood of twilight / sinister echoes / dark, polished floors / lofty, uncobwebbed ceilings / a malign presence in the cellar / an insane shadow in the attic / thaumaturgic curios / a hermetic chant of the heavens / no hint of hauntedness / an innocent ambiance / a spiritual wasteland / spiritually antiseptic surroundings / a twisting and tenuous stairway / shattered panes of glass / misshapen glyphs / the shadowy nuances of clouds / a twisted kaleidoscope of colors / the aura of stained-glass cathedral / some obscure desecration / prismatic lenses / that of the dead or the demonic / an eclipse of this world’s vision / a quivering translucence / iridescent sterility / the aftermath of a strange exorcism / neither hallowed nor unholy / a pristine laboratory / a science of nightmares / a small, lamplit library / night’s darkness / a voice that’s accustomed to speaking of miracles / mystical freakshows / a grave sincerity / dissonant overtones of fear / the shadows of another world / forms of specter or demon / the eyes of the flesh / a luminous hell / psychic survival / hopelessly dreaming / terror recollected in tranquility / mazy trauma / the sensations of the soul / a monstrous mystery / a theoretician of nightmares / crude and cryptic designs / a remote and shadowy stage / an adept of pasteboard visions / mucilage and gauze / pulling the strings of light and shadow / shadows gathering / a strange radiance / phosphorescent panes / superlunary light / some cosmic tapestry / a haunted world / the marriage of insanity and metaphysics / a spectral ontogeny / a pageant of nightmares / sunlit bazaars in exotic cities / transparent masks / insectoid countenances / moonlit streets in antique towns / a strange-eyed slithering / dim galleries of empty museums / a ghostly mold / the sullen hues of old paintings / sticky luxuriance / pulpy warmth / an uncanny flux of sounds / cadaverous generations / sculptures of human coral / bodies heaped and unwhole / limbs projecting without order / eyes scattered and searching the darkness / a monument to Terror / a maze of interconnecting doors / spectral monstrosities / the cover of masks / the concealment of stones / feverish properties and intentions / a framed phantasmagoria / grotesque transfigurations / a systemless cosmogony / the caprice of the immaterial / weirdly lucent rooms / chaotic fantasies / narrow, spiraling stairs / the gazing eye of some god / a pyrotechnic craze of colors /  a vibrating echo of vocal utterance / swirling sights / a vacuum and a void / doubtful strategies / unknown and extravagant possibilities / occult theories / arcane analyses / the irreducible certainty of nightmare / great shadows in the stars / an infinite catastrophe / protective sigils / the full glare of starlight / stars and shadows / privileged arcana / the enchantments of hell / cold sunlight / the visionary time of twilight

The Cocoons

A gloved hand twitching / a rather unapologetic tone / egg-shaped pills / a half-glass of water / a soft grinding noise / a quietly urgent voice /  blotched vapors /  a growl of exasperation / unpeopled avenues / a mass of shadows / a landscape without pattern or substance / the moon shining / a doubtful glance / a devastated plain / an open field heaped with debris / bits of glass and scraps of metal / lunar spaciousness / a skeletal structure with all markings of identity scraped off its bones / a densely tangled nest of houses / the dull light of the moon / a yellowish swatch of illumination / high wooden fences / a ruined turret grazed by moonlight / a minor mania / a cobwebbed corner / a blank battered wall / warped floor moldings / a watery light / the quivering light of candles / an old-fashioned film projector / the whirring of a projector / a visual record of a scientific experiment / dark wiry appendages /  a pair of slender snapping pincers / tiny translucent wings / glistening but useless / malicious eyes / a dubious look / candles flickering like fire-flies / a cold swamp of shadows / a collection of bones / dazed silence / a clockwork world / sunrise schedules / lunar routines / a pandemonium of forces / a phantasmagoria of possibilities / the shadow of a laugh /  a curious hedonism that can’t be controlled / the vagaries of omnipotence / breeder of indulgence / languorous exhaustion / a psychic matter / unheard of habits / a clown’s oversized grin / bliss on the brink of apotheosis / a universal process of transfiguration / restless skittering / a pitiful delight / giddy pride / demoniac undercurrents / the grotesque ultimatums of creation

The Night School

A high, full moon shining among the spreading clouds / shadows singing with the clouds / a slowly flowing mass of mottled shapes / a kind of unclean outpouring / the black sewers of space / the wall of night /  smoke, dense and dirty, rising up to the sky / the spastic flames of a small fire / a slender gentleman / a dark suit / broken bones / the process of degeneration / the mulchy rot of autumn or early spring / yellowish light / dark scabby bricks / ruined factories / ravaged mausoleums / abandoned orphanages / a blossom of the cemetery or the cesspool / guttering candles / blurred remnants of past lessons / cloacal forces / time as a flow of sewage / drowning in the pools of night / a thousand molting autumns / the melting soil of spring / a pair of yellowish eyes / undiluted darkness / a darkness far greater than the night itself / consolidated darkness / the science of a spectral pathology / a philosophy of absolute disease / the metaphysics of things sinking into a common disintegration or rising together / dark rottenness /  filthy smoke from some smoldering source of expansive corruption / the scent of corruption / the nostalgic perfume of autumn decay / the feculent muskiness of a spring thaw / smoky blackness / the offal of worlds in decline / the dark compost of those about to be born / the primeval impurity In which all things are founded / native putridity / pieces of paper with strange symbols on them / the very face of a plague—pustulant, scabbed, and stinking terribly / a black fog / many voices crying and calling from total blackness / tightly packed earth in a grave / the disease of the night / bright flames / the noise of a fire and the wind / a full moon / shining bright and blurry / a luminous mold / the great sewers of night

The Glamour

A fine aura of fantasy / both blurred and brightened / a starless evening / diamonds of plate glass / old buildings of dark brick / the display window of a toy store / a chaotic tableau of preposterous excitation / mechanized monkeys / fated antics / tiny cymbals / the destined pirouettes of a music-box ballerina / a newly sprung jack-in-the-box / strangely picturesque / dreamily illuminated / sculptured frosting / a winter landscape of swirling, drifting whiteness / snowy rosettes / layers of icy glitter / a glacial kingdom / a brilliant arctic scene / a vitality of enterprise / a glossy light / the placidly enigmatic expressions of a different time / faded lighting / an old photograph / the kind of acute anticipation that a child might experience at a carnival / a possessing impulse without object / wretchedly aglow / a long, narrow corridor with a single light set far into its depths / a strange shade of purple, like that of a freshly exposed heart / a purple lamp / arterial light / a deep pink / a richly blooded brain / a beating heart / wispy shrouds / sparse hairs sticking to the scalp of an old corpse / purple-tinted glass / the darkness of a theater / a swarm of filaments / an elaborate chandelier / a sickly, liverish shade / an operating room where a torso lies open on the table / a palette of pinks and reds and purples / diseased viscera imitating all of the shades of sunset / headstones in a graveyard / endless filthy alleys / long desolate corridors in an old asylum / the dripping passages of a sewer / a dust-blinded window / a dark unvisited cellar / a mirror gone rheumy with age / facets of murky crystal / cobwebs / long pale threads / hazy purple light / the slow curling of thin smoke / a great rectangular web / the ever-mutating images of clouds / a surge of dark elation / a sudden chill announcing bad weather / a vibrant presence / an expression of avid malignance / inner webbings / swirling fibers / wild shocks of twisting hair / a portrait of atrocity / lust for sites and ceremonies of mayhem / writhing cobwebs / reaching tendrils / graveyards and alleyways / a joyous hysteria / a pale purple / sinister and seamy regions / spectral ambiance / all pervasive purple coloration / the labyrinth of a living anatomy / palest pink / a purple light / putrid chambers and cloisters / an infernal land / fleshy, gelatinous integuments / translucent tissue / the theater of a mad surgery / hair-thin sutures / unseen hands designing unnatural shapes and systems / weaving a nest in which possession would take place / the weaver and web-maker / an old puppet-master / setting a helpless creature with new strings / through eyes unknown / purple shadows / a type of degraded rapture / a seizure of debauched panic / webs of hair / great evil / an appeal for deliverance / eyes that would see what should not be seen / stray threads pulled from a sleeve or pocket / a paralytic silence / eyes gazing fierce and malignant / a purple glow / two shafts of the purest purple light / an old woman with glowing eyes

Father Sevich’s Visit

A manner at first vaguely troublesome and afterward rather attractive / the arrival of a priest / the very echoes of the air / mellow afternoon sunlight / dark wooden floors / pale contortions of ancient wall paper / invisible games / abstract dread and a bizarre sort of indebtedness / a thick maze of propositions / a well-made bed / a relentless failure / cloistral tunnels / vaulted penetralia / a single column-clutching hand / the necessary features of fear / a maddening task / a series of completely irrelevant expressions / misty-eyed wonder / cretinous bafflement / smiling in an almost amiable way at one one’s impending doom / the trap of expectation / a sleepy whisper / the sound of soft conversation / the world of good manners and polite talk / a look of incompleteness / some unfinished effigy in a toy maker’s workshop / something vital to expression / the purple-robed mysteries of priesthood / animated eyes / withered things reeking of medicine and prayer / a painfully delicate subject / varnished wood / salvation through suffering / sacred horrors / the divine destiny toward which the paths of anguish have always led / volumes of blessed agony / an attitude of prayerful pleading / torturing demons / a single squatted devil / bristling lashes that sprout like weeds / an explosion of miniature grotesquerie / a brief and calculated absence / a modest fund of moral energy / a macabre icon / profane lessons / a countenance of true terror / a ridiculously empty slate / an off-stage atrocity / a cycle of mute, incredible lore / anthropomorphic mist / an eerie lividity / unconscious hours of darkness / a chronicle of truly unspeakable things / the light of every constellation in the visible universe / the oppressive mysteries of the autumn season / thick orange crayons / black cats / black paper / a hopeless urge for innovation / a tiny white collar / dripping with fever / hat and cloak and walking stick / narrow, nocturnal streets / a fairy-tale vision / serpentine lanes / the distorted glow of street lamps / the thinnest blade of moon / a narrow niche / an unpaved lane / a small courtyard surrounded by high walls / the stars above / jaundiced lamplight / a stairway of cut stone / the earth and absolute blackness / tiny lights glimmering like stars / clouds of shadows / some golden metal / a caricature of serenity / a hand as white as the whitest glove / chaotic rays / underworld starlight / a certain expression of rarefied scorn or disgust / indignant shadows / black, ankle-high shoes / the natural nightlight of the moon / an infernal aura or an angelic halo / a planet revolving its unspeakable tonnage in the blackness of space / a small bottle of holy water / secret denial and privilege / a smile of deep contentment

Miss Plarr

Misty, drizzling days / sharp, urgent rappings at the front door / a world of darkening mist / mist-covered locks / listening with intense expectancy / the world’s chaos of faces / a seething luxuriance / dark battlements of clouds / a mute and sullen twilight / a stone-gray sky / those days all shackled in gloom / a fugue of noise / the livid radiance of moonlight / the wild shape of some night-blossom / some strange and cruel kingdom / an intimate dungeon cell reserved for the most exclusive captivity / constant, noisy marauding / sedentary or stealthy rituals / an abyss of unspoken reproaches and suspicions / some ancient seagoing vessel / an old oil lamp / a series of quite fascinating lectures / a kind of brutality and an air of exile / deliriums of earth and sky / fog-bound islands in polar seas / shadowed realms littered with dead cities / peaks lacerated by unceasing winds / a bluish slime / the proper way to behave / the great mists of spring / murky sheets of ice / a world of shadows bound in place / the sound of something that stings the air / the hissing of rainy afternoons / immense blades sweeping over vast spaces / expansive wings cutting through cold winds / long whips lashing in darkness / intangible sympathies / a dark mesh of nightmares / a foul nest in which one’s own suspicions are swarming / links to a strictly mundane order / a briskness that seems to be an effort / a heavy spring dampness / lost to the world of wholesome practicalities / a hypnotic and fateful determination / a child’s weakness for prospects of misadventure / a fog-smothered landscape / a pale, floating web / an immense and awful kingdom / a patternless conglomerate of crystals / a misty graveyard / angular and many-faced monuments / the mountainous and murky thunderheads of a rainy season / the very essence of a storm / a matter of suspicion and conjecture / atrocious potential / fogs and mists and gray heaping skies / a conspicuous stridency / a dour mystique / a gray mist / skies of hissing rain

The Shadow At the Bottom of the World

Some feverish intent / sheaves of cornstalks standing brownish and brittle in a newly harvested field / a sky of empty light / fiery leafage / something dark, something abysmal / small shadowy voices / sweet wine turning to vinegar / a hysteric brilliance / displays of thorn apple, sumac, and towering sunflowers / crooked roadside fences / a moonlit field / a bright round moon / nocturnal solitude / patched-up overalls / worn flannel / the withered leaves of cornstalks / moonlight spread across a dead field / a great idol in shabby disguise / a sacred avatar out of season / fidgeting bemusement / a leaden vault of clouds / pure sunlight / misty dreams of the past night / a vine-twisted stone wall / dormant vines / a strange network of dead veins / calculated grayness / radiant leaves / legions of local cicadas / a dark fungus / of the blackest earth / a rich loam / a bog of shadows / an abyss in the outline of a man / the feel of wind and water / a few shifting flames / flames of only the slightest warmth / black flames / the molten texture of spoiled fruit / a shriveled scarecrow / an armory of axes, shovels, and other implements / an eccentricity of the harvest / a viscous mire / innumerable insects laughing / sprouting blackness / a perverse reluctance / the great shadow of a moonless night / the dark rustling depths of the season / the glass globes of streetlamps / the dense leaves of elms and oaks and maples / blazing auras / the frigid aurora of dawn / frost-powdered earth / shadows and corn shocks / countless insects chattering unseen / the feverish life of the earth / the wrinkled grimace of decay / corrupted by vile impulses / a mound of soft dirt / the darkish grooves of ancient bark / the mottled complexion of old flesh / a multitude of crooked smiles / a freakish mask painted with russet, rashy colors / a virulent intensity / an autumn night when fields lay ragged in moonlight / moist and fertile shadows / a hollow-eyed howling malignity / the cold emptiness of space / the pale gaze of the moon / the depths of an extraordinary harvest / insecure hints and delvings / the luxuriant shadow of trees / the mocking plumage of a strange season / an array of whims and suspicions / scraps of lush color / gold and crimson hieroglyphs / deathless leaves / an ill-formed village / a hideous impersonation of a face / leprous masks / knotty shadows / a subterranean craze of roots and tendrils / an underworld riot of branching convolutions / gnarled ornamentations / autumnal decay / knives and axes and curving scythes / countless colored leaves / pronouncements of dire or delightful curiosity / a dull trance / a wild luminousness / a diamond-bright fever burning within / perennial strangeness / tenacious foliage / softly glowing against a black sky / an untimely nocturnal rainbow / a harvest of hues / peach gold / pumpkin orange / honey yellow / winy amber / apple red / plum violet / the pyrotechnics of a new autumn / a thousand glittering dreams / a rigid scarecrow / a patchwork of shadows / a quivering glow / a premature craving / an expertly whetted blade / a betrayal or deception on the part of creation itself / something buried deep within appearances / something that wears a mask to hide itself / holding a spatula like a weapon / moldering shadows / a dreamless sleep / a sudden rage of mortification / the remains of a dismantled scarecrow / an ashen autumn morning / the feeling of blood / a bottomless grave