#surreal natural occurrences

[crazyconjecture]

Discover the Unbelievable: Natural Phenomena, Mysterious Marvels, and Celestial Wonders

Introduction: Have you ever heard of fish rain, rainbow clouds, or lava threads stretching up to 2 meters? Nature holds mysterious and enchanting phenomena that continue to marvel and confound us. Join us on a journey to explore some of the most mind-blowing natural occurrences that will leave you in awe. Fish Rain and Rainbow Clouds In 2009, Japan experienced a peculiar rain of fish, frogs, and…

[leiiilaaaa]

12th house synastry!

wanted to do this because 12th house is super interesting to look into, and when your partner/friends/etc has their placements in your 12th house it can reveal a lot that hasn't been known before, your future with this individual, inexplainable feelings and occurrences, lets dive into it.

partner sun in your 12th house - usually this person will unlock a part of your brain that will teach you the deeper meaning of life, they will provoke you with intense thoughts to challenge you and connect you deeper to reality. you find that this person usually understands you without much explanation, sometimes it might even feel surreal on the basis they can read you. you are predictable to them and almost feel that nothing in this bond can be hidden from them. they admire something about your mental strength and want you to express your burdens than to shy from them. it doesn't scare you so much at the thought of it, but your biggest challenge will be opening up to this individual- and depending on how their sun is aspected it can show you the intentions they have with knowing these things about you. ex; if they have sun trine your moon, they will be emotionally there with you. if they have sun oppose mercury/uranus, they can be very chatty and spill some of your traumas and experiences to others.

partner moon in your 12th house - this person is very respecting to your emotions, and they find you to be their happy places in a way. they love when they can get past surface level discussion with you, to them they love to protect you and tell you things that are far too uncomfortable to tell other people. sometimes it can become an overburdening where you might pull away and the partner begins to question what this means for the relationship. set boundaries, but also let this person play the role they want because the backbone of this relationship is going to be your longevity of trust with each other. might be hard to make the moon person change his/her habits, but all they need is a gentle tug.

partner mercury in your 12th house - this person will be the one to tell you information you don't want to hear but need to hear. you might often resent this individual sometimes because of this and feel that they can get distant towards you from time to time, or jumpy in their explanations. the mercury person will have a quick temperament, and the communication can become murky, but you don't forget what they tell you though, and usually they will be the ones telling you stories to learn from or traumatic experiences. just be sure to set limits with this placement, as they can overstep or really push away. but besides that, they find an appreciation for your company, and they become quite fixated on you when you keep up the communication. otherwise, it can go either way.

partner venus in your 12th house - feelings left unsaid is the energy that exudes here. secretly being admired or having to admit it out of one another. the venus person will often try and match your love language as much as possible, they will find out things you like (music, interests, content, friends/family members, you name it), to have an underlying similarity. it can become borderline obsession; however this partner is naturally clingy towards you and knows how you inter-operate than most people do. you have predictable patterns to these people because of how much they analyze you from afar. their biggest fears in terms of love with you is that you abandon them or shun them away, even minimal acknowledgement make them fall for you even harder. just be aware that this can be an intense spot for venus.

partner mars in your 12th house - you both might impulsively jump into experiences together, this person shows you newer practices, mentalities, anything hidden in plain sight. they will encourage you to express your desires more and can also get sexually aroused by you without you even knowing when it happens. creates a healthy intensity between the two of you and the mars knows not to overstep surprisingly, as confident as they are, they do back down when things might get too overstimulating for the house person. there's a sense of care and adrenaline the mars person gives to the house person, they will please them in many ways and approach them in such an unforgettable way too. you might uncover that your sex-life with this person is so top tier, and roleplaying is prominent in your lives. if you think it, it comes to life.

partner jupiter in your 12th house - the jupiter person will change your life dramatically, spiritually you will feel very positive around this person, and almost like you take a part of them when you're not with them. you admire their ability to get more of everything from life, which of course they do teach you, their ways. the jupiter person will take pride in helping you benefit from them, especially when both of you mean well. these people might feel even god-sent sometimes, be careful to not take more than you give to these people, as jupiter is about luck and you never know. they can give you an old soul kind of energy, and one that just wants the betterment for the people they care about including the house person.

partner saturn in your 12th house - as stern as this person might come off to you, they are intensely loyal and work hard to sustain the relationship between the two of you- in their own way. you usually have no abnormalities between the two of you, although you will want to be clingy to them, remember that they persevere the best when they are alone and, in the zone, don't smother these people too much or they will forget about their tasks and abandon them. emotionally they can seem off, but depending on how their saturn is aspected, it can show you the ways they open up and how long it can take them too. because it is your 12th house, they will be drawn to your dark nature and match that with discipline, as a result very unspoken dynamic at times, but a very loyal and committed one.

partner uranus in your 12th house - uranus person will oddly understand you out of many people in your life, they themselves can sometimes even analyze your lifestyle and mindset a little too hard where they try to inflict so much change onto you. they may also insist on involving other people to come and convince you to be a part of something that maybe you don't want to be. this is a prime example of a groupie dynamic, uranus person will introduce you to the similar things that have changed them as a person (good or bad), house person will either like it or hate it. house person has to draw the line on what they say to the uranus person before they can draw out their life.

partner neptune in your 12th house - neptune person will be your peacekeeper and you feel a sense of belonging towards one another. there is a good balance between the two of you where you respect each other's privacy but also drop casual lores of each other here and there. this mutual respect makes the 12th house person very fond of the neptune person and creates for good long term relations. the neptune person admires 12th house person's abilities to discern topics in a similar way to them. these people have similar troubles i notice, and both heal together in a harmonious way that can turn them religious at the same time, or heavily spiritual at the same time. they are super on sync, or the neptune person will try to catch up to the house person a lot.

partner pluto in your 12th house - pluto person will make you shift perspectives all the time, and doesn't like to take short cuts. they want the house person to feel all their feelings, explain them thoroughly, and understand their capabilities. the pluto person can genuinely help the house person feel ready for the changes they are going to experience. pluto will remind the house that darkness is a necessity to experience light. the house person will resent this at first, but then become vulnerable and respecting of pluto's efforts to help them transform into the person they are meant to be. the pluto person won't mind the house person's whiplash from time to time, as usually the pluto person has heavy life experiences that they can only ease in to understand somebody elses.

partner chiron in your 12th house - this person will find themselves healing through you. your dynamic will teach them things about themselves that wasn't apparent to them when they were younger, or before they met you. house person will help chiron ease into their insecurities and become more open to the idea of acceptance. while the chiron person will accept house for all their flaws and allow the house person to be themselves without carrying shame. as long as this bond is mutually beneficial, it can help both people grow. however chiron person can be burdening to house person if they feel that chiron is always at the brink of sabotage, it can be hard to maintain. however it can flourish to be beautiful.

that's basically all for 12th house synastry, if you have other placements in the 12th that aren't here tell me below and i will tell you my input on those, thank u so much for readings i know its a strong yap but there's a lot that depends with synastry and this is only the surface of it! <3

[artificialfanfiction]

Melodies Between Friends– Part II

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Disclaimer: The content on this blog is entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes. None of the scenarios depicted here are based on real-life occurrences. Enjoy the stories and let your imagination run wild!

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pairing Noah Sebastian x reader

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summary You've been best friends with Noah Sebastian for years, sharing everything from late-night talks to a love of music. But as the band rises to fame and life changes, you both start to wonder if there's something more between you.

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The days that followed your confession with Noah felt surreal, like you were living in a dream you never wanted to end. You both agreed to take things slow, letting your newfound relationship unfold naturally, without the pressure of labels or expectations. But despite the change in your dynamic, there was an ease between you that reassured you both your friendship was the foundation of everything, and it was stronger than ever.

One evening, after a long day of rehearsals and recording sessions, Noah invited you over to his place to unwind. It was one of those quiet, late summer nights where the heat lingered in the air and everything seemed to move a little slower.

When you arrived, you found Noah in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. He turned to greet you with a warm smile, holding up a half-empty bottle of the cheapest wine. "Wine and pizza sound good?"

"Perfect," you said, setting down your bag and kicking off your shoes. "What’s on the agenda tonight? More music?"

Noah shook his head, pouring two glasses of wine and handing one to you. "Nah, no music tonight. I was thinking we could just hang out, watch a movie or something."

You took the glass, your fingers brushing against his as you did. Even the simplest touch sent a thrill through you now. "Sounds good to me. Anything in particular you want to watch?"

He shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. "Whatever you want. I’m good with anything."

As you both settled onto the couch, you couldn’t help but notice how naturally everything was falling into place between you. There was no awkwardness, no second guessing. It was like the transition from best friends to something more was the most natural thing in the world.

You spent the next couple of hours laughing at a cheesy horror movie you’d picked out, making fun of the terrible special effects and the even worse acting. Noah kept inching closer to you as the night went on, until your head was resting on his shoulder and his arm was draped around you.

When the credits rolled, you didn’t move. The room was dark now, the only light coming from the glow of the TV screen. You could feel Noah’s heartbeat under your cheek, steady and comforting. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content to just be in each other’s presence.

"Noah," you said softly, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice equally quiet.

You hesitated, unsure of how to put your thoughts into words. "Do you ever worry that... I don’t know, that this might change things too much? That we might not be the same?"

Noah was silent for a moment, and you felt him shift slightly so he could look down at you. "I’ve thought about it," he admitted. "But then I remind myself that we’ve already changed so much. We’ve been through so much together, and we’re still here, still close. I think that’s what makes this work we’re not just diving into something without a foundation. We’ve built this, you know? Over years."

His words made sense, but there was still a small part of you that couldn’t shake the fear of losing what you had. "I just don’t want to mess this up," you murmured.

"You won’t," Noah said firmly. "We won’t. I think... I think if we just keep being honest with each other, we’ll be okay."

You looked up at him, finding comfort in the way his dark eyes met yours, full of sincerity. "Okay," you said, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. "You’re right."

He smiled then, a soft, lopsided grin that made your heart skip a beat. "You know," he said, his voice teasing now, "I’m pretty sure I’ve had a crush on you since the first time we jammed together."

You laughed, the tension between you easing into something light and playful. "Seriously? You never told me that!"

"I didn’t want to scare you off," he admitted, a hint of sheepishness in his tone. "You were the cool one, remember? I was just the awkward guy with too many band T-shirts."

"Yeah, and now you’re the lead singer of an insanely popular band," you shot back, grinning. "Who’s the cool one now?"

"Still you," he said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Always you."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and before you could say anything else, Noah closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It was sweet, unhurried, and filled with the kind of affection that could only come from years of knowing each other inside and out.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, both of you smiling like you shared a secret the rest of the world wasn’t in on.

"Stay over tonight," Noah said, his voice soft and inviting. "We don’t have to rush anything. Let’s just... be here. Together."

You nodded, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. "I’d like that."

And so, you stayed. The night stretched on, filled with quiet conversations, soft touches, and the kind of comfort that only comes from being with someone who knows you better than anyone else. As you drifted off to sleep in Noah’s arms, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

Because no matter what, you’d always have the music. And you’d always have each other.

[eevylynn]

Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame

Sterek || eventual Alpha Werewolf Stiles [ao3]

Among born werewolves, it was common knowledge that the prime age for a human to endure the bite of an Alpha and survive was typically during their teenage or young adult years. In fact, the youngest recorded case of a bite resulting in a transformation and not death was previously eleven years old, so imagine the Hale pack’s astonishment when they learned of a small seven year old who was bitten and miraculously survived, challenging the known boundaries of possibility.

Chapter 2 - Perception Ignited

The late afternoon sun broke through the thick canopy of trees on the long, winding road through the dense preserve casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on Roscoe. The lush green leaves danced in the gentle breeze, creating a picturesque scene of nature's vibrant beauty. The summer heat wrapped itself around the vehicle, adding a sense of warmth and anticipation to the air.

Seated in the backseat, Stiles' imagination soared amidst the seemingly surreal surroundings. His young mind, now awakened to the existence of supernatural beings, conjured images of mythical creatures running alongside the car. Perhaps a majestic unicorn with a gleaming horn or a fierce griffin soaring through the sky? Stiles yearned to encounter these fantastical beings, unsure of which ones were mere legends and which ones held the truth. Now that he knew werewolves were real and that he himself had become one, his entire world, his very perception of reality had forever shifted. Anything seemed possible, and the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary blurred in his mind.

Stiles marveled at the fact that he had been discharged from the hospital yesterday after being there for only a day. He’s still amazed at his own healing. He pulled his sleeve up to look at his arm where the giant werewolf had bitten him and still found it astounding that there wasn’t a single trace of injury.

When they had arrived at Beacon Hills Medical Center two days ago, Melissa McCall happened to be on duty, a stroke of luck that would prove crucial. It was Ms. McCall who first noticed something extraordinary about Stiles' injuries - they were healing at an astonishing rate. The sight both relieved and alarmed the Stilinski family and the medical staff, leaving them bewildered.

Unbeknownst to them, Alpha Talia Hale had cultivated connections within the medical center staff, ensuring that she would be promptly informed of any supernatural occurrences. As soon as she received word of Stiles' condition, she wasted no time and made her way swiftly to the hospital. Talia sought out the bewildered parents, Noah and Claudia Stilinski, to deliver the astonishing truth: their son had been turned into a werewolf.

With utmost care and compassion, Talia explained the physical implications that Stiles would now face, including the transformations, the influence of the full moon, and his heightened senses. She also shed some light on the intricate dynamics of werewolf packs and the profound impact they have on the mental and emotional well-being of their members. Overwhelmed and nervous, the Stilinski family found themselves grappling with the magnitude of the revelation. Noah especially struggled to accept this new reality unfolding before him.

Being a parent herself, with three children of her own, Talia could relate to the stress and uncertainty that accompanied such circumstances. She provided them with her personal contact information and assured them that she would be available whenever they needed assistance, guidance, or simply a compassionate ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on.

As the jeep came to a halt in front of the imposing Hale house, Stiles glanced up and caught sight of a boy not much older than himself standing at one of the upstairs windows. His black hair framed his face, and thick eyebrows added intensity to his piercing green eyes. Though Stiles couldn't comprehend the significance of the moment, he felt an inexplicable pull toward this mysterious boy. With a friendly wave, the stranger acknowledged Stiles' arrival as the younger boy climbed out of the old jeep. Stiles grinned and waved back.

“Mischief,” Claudia called softly, gaining the boy’s attention, and he joined his parents as they headed to the large covered porch.

By the time they reached the stairs, Talia had already opened the red door, ready to greet them with a tall teenager standing at her right that had the same long dark hair and dark eyes as her mother.

“Welcome to our home!” the Alpha said regally. “This is my eldest, Laura,” Talia added, gesturing to the girl next to her. “She has recently started her training to take over as Alpha after myself, so she wanted to join us. Laura, this is Deputy Noah Stilinski and his wife Claudia.”

Talia paused before crouching down to be level with Stiles as she continued, “And this little one here is our newest pack member, Mieczysław.” 

Stiles blinked and raised his eyebrows over at his parents at the correct pronunciation of his name. No one outside of their family had ever been able to say it correctly before.

“Nice to meet you all,” Laura said kindly, “especially you, Meechslav.”

Noah smiled at Laura’s stumbling, “You can call him ‘Stiles’ if you want.”

“I am so sorry!” Laura looked horrified, like she had offended them or something, “I’ve been trying to practice saying it. Everyone has the right to have their name pronounced properly.”

Claudia put a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder, and replied, “Sweetie, we appreciate it. Honestly!” She added, seeing Laura about to interrupt. “Mieczysław was my father’s name. They were first generation immigrants from Poland, and, trust me, as a native speaker of the language, I completely understand that most Americans would have issues pronouncing it. Even my little Mischief here has problems saying his own name at times.” Claudia smiled down at Stiles, running her fingers through his shaggy hair. “For the longest time, he pronounced it ‘Mischief’, which is both adorable and, admittedly, accurate,” Claudia laughed lightly and everyone joined in.

“Stiles was originally my own father’s nickname,” Noah added, “so in a way, he’s named after both of his grandparents. We won’t be offended which you choose to call him by. You’re good. I swear.”

Talia smiled at Stiles, still crouched next to him. “What would you prefer, pup?” she inquired softly.

Stiles fidgeted as all eyes turned towards him. He shrugged, “Stiles is what everyone at school calls me.”

“Stiles it is!” Talia said cheerfully before she stood up, clapped her hands once and motioned for everyone to head inside. “How about we show you guys around real quick while Elijah finishes up lunch.”

[continue reading on ao3]

[yxlnst]

Ghost City: SEVENTEEN's Urban Adventure

🎀 Summary 🎀 : Seventeen explores an abandoned city, facing eerie whispers and locked gates. The group navigates danger to find their way out.

🧸 Word count 🧸 : 1,270

Crack/Random

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The sky was just beginning to darken as you stood with Seventeen at the edge of the abandoned city. Everyone had heard the rumors about this place—the old factories, the empty amusement park, the countless stories of hauntings and strange occurrences. It was a ghost town, but for you and the boys, it was an adventure waiting to happen.

"Alright, who's ready to explore?" S.Coups asked, his voice full of excitement. He held up his flashlight like a leader brandishing a torch.

"I'm always ready!" Hoshi exclaimed, practically bouncing with energy. You weren't surprised; he was usually the most enthusiastic in the group.

"Do we really need to do this at night?" Seungkwan asked, pretending to shiver from the wind. "I mean, isn't that how all horror stories start?"

"It's supposed to be spookier at night," you replied, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "Besides, what's the fun without a little fear?"

Jeonghan chuckled. "Right, and if anyone gets scared, they can just hold hands with Seungkwan."

"Hey, I'm not scared!" Seungkwan retorted, crossing his arms. "I'm just... cautious."

The city loomed ahead, a mass of decaying buildings and overgrown streets. Broken streetlights flickered weakly, casting long shadows on the asphalt. Woozi, ever the pragmatic one, adjusted his bag and sighed. "Just remember, guys, we stick together. No wandering off."

"Yeah, especially you, Hoshi," Joshua added, his tone playful but with a hint of caution.

"Me? Why me?" Hoshi asked, feigning innocence.

"Because you have a habit of running off when you're excited," you said, pointing at him with your flashlight. "Last time, we almost lost you in the mall."

Mingyu, the tallest in the group, leaned against a rusted fence. "Alright, let's get moving. I want to see if we can find that amusement park. I heard there's a Ferris wheel that's still standing."

"You heard right," Vernon replied, pointing toward the distance. "It's that way. Let's go."

The group set off into the city, flashlights casting narrow beams of light across the deserted streets. The sound of their footsteps echoed, creating an eerie rhythm. Every now and then, you could hear distant sounds—perhaps animals or the wind—but it was hard to tell in a place like this.

As you walked, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. The city had been abandoned for years, but there was something about its decaying beauty that drew you in. You noticed Wonwoo taking pictures, his camera's flash lighting up the darkness.

"This place has character," he said, capturing a shot of a graffiti-covered wall. "I bet there's some cool stuff deeper in."

The8, with his artistic eye, nodded in agreement. "It's like a canvas that's been left to nature. The decay has its own beauty."

Dino, the youngest in the group, was clearly excited to be out exploring with everyone. "Hey, let's check out that alley," he suggested, pointing to a narrow path between two buildings.

"Sure, but let's stick together," you said, leading the way.

The alley was filled with debris, and the walls were covered in faded posters and graffiti. As you walked through, you noticed that the alley led to a larger street, where the faint outline of the amusement park became visible.

"There it is!" Hoshi exclaimed, picking up the pace. "Come on, let's check it out!"

The amusement park was a surreal sight. The rides were rusted and broken, the ticket booths abandoned, and the Ferris wheel loomed over the entire area, creaking in the wind. It was as if time had stopped, leaving the park frozen in a state of decay.

"Wow," Mingyu said, looking around in awe. "This is amazing."

"Yeah, amazing," DK replied, though his voice was laced with apprehension. "But does anyone else feel like we're being watched?"

"Relax," Jeonghan said, putting an arm around him. "It's just your imagination."

You led the group deeper into the park, exploring the various rides and attractions. The bumper cars were covered in rust, the carousel had lost most of its horses, and the roller coaster was overgrown with vines. Despite the decay, there was a strange beauty to it all.

"Hey, look at this," Joshua said, pointing to an old arcade. "Let's see if anything still works."

The group entered the arcade, where the smell of dust and mold filled the air. The machines were in varying states of disrepair, but The8 found one that still had power. He pressed a button, and the screen flickered to life, displaying a classic racing game.

"Who wants to race?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.

Dino immediately stepped forward. "I'm in! Let's do this!"

As Dino and The8 played, the rest of the group explored the arcade. You noticed that Seungkwan was a bit uneasy, his gaze darting around the room.

"What's up, Seungkwan?" you asked, noticing his nervousness.

"I keep hearing things," he replied in a whisper. "Like whispers or something."

"It's probably just the wind," you said, trying to reassure him. "This place is old, and sound travels weirdly in places like this."

But as you continued exploring, you heard it too—a faint whispering, like distant voices carried by the wind. It was hard to tell where it was coming from, but it was enough to send a chill down your spine.

The group eventually left the arcade and headed toward the roller coaster. Hoshi and Mingyu were already at the top, waving down at everyone else.

"Come on up!" Hoshi shouted. "The view is amazing!"

S.Coups led the way, helping the others climb to the top of the roller coaster. From there, you could see the entire amusement park, and beyond it, the sprawling city. The sun had fully set by now, and the city was enveloped in darkness.

As you admired the view, you heard a loud crash from somewhere in the city. It was followed by a series of distant echoes, like something—or someone—was moving through the streets.

"What was that?" Woozi asked, his eyes narrowing as he listened.

"Probably just something falling," you replied, though you weren't entirely sure.

The group quickly descended from the roller coaster, heading toward the source of the noise. The shadows seemed to grow darker as you moved through the park, and the whispering grew louder.

"Guys, this is starting to get creepy," DK said, sticking close to you.

"I agree," Seungkwan replied, looking around nervously. "Maybe we should head back."

S.Coups turned to the group, his flashlight illuminating their anxious faces. "Okay, let's not take any chances. Let's head back the way we came."

As you made your way through the amusement park, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The whispering continued, growing louder with each step. It was like the city itself was coming to life, its abandoned buildings and empty streets filled with unseen presences.

Just as you reached the entrance to the park, the gate slammed shut with a loud bang. Everyone jumped, and DK let out a small scream.

"What the—?" Vernon said, trying to push the gate open. It wouldn't budge.

"Why is it locked?" Joshua asked, his voice laced with concern.

"It's like someone's playing a prank on us," Jeonghan said, trying to lighten the mood. "Who's got the keys?"

"This isn't funny," you said, feeling a surge of anxiety. "We need to find another way out."

The group quickly headed back into the park, looking for another exit. The whispers seemed to be coming from all directions, and the darkness felt heavier. It was clear that something was not right.

As you moved through the park, you stumbled upon an old maintenance shed. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see a dim light coming from inside.

"Maybe there's a way out through here," Wonwoo suggested, pointing to the shed.

The group cautiously entered, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. Inside, the shed was filled with old tools and machinery. But what caught your attention was a map pinned to the wall, showing the layout of the amusement park.

"Look," you said, pointing to the map. "There's a service tunnel that leads out of the park. It's right behind this shed."

"Great, let's go!" Hoshi exclaimed, eager to get out of the park.

As you followed the map, you heard a loud bang from behind you. It was like something—or someone—had slammed a door shut. Everyone jumped, and Dino let out a small yelp.

"We need to get out of here," Woozi said, his voice tense. "This place is getting weird."

The group followed the map to the service tunnel, which was hidden behind a stack of old crates. It was narrow and dark, but it seemed to lead to an exit. You took the lead, flashlight in hand, guiding the group through the tunnel.

The whispers seemed to follow you, growing louder as you moved through the darkness. It was as if the city itself was alive, its unseen inhabitants watching your every move.

Finally, you reached the end of the tunnel, where a rusty door led to the street. You pushed it open, and a gust of fresh air greeted you. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Rio Grande do Sul Floods: How Can Brazil's Politicians Not See Climate?

The deadly floods in southern Brazil are unprecedented but not unexpected. Ahead of the October local elections, Brazilians must remember that politicians have ignored scientists' predictions and weakened legislation that could have helped deal with climate change.

The tragedy that has stuck Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil’s southernmost state, is unprecedented. The amount of rain that has fallen in recent days and is still falling there is extreme and so are the consequences. The death toll has reached 100, and more than a hundred people are still missing. More than 1 million people have been affected.

These impressive figures and the images that look more like disasters caused by hurricanes or tsunamis can generate a false idea of rarity, of bad luck. “It rained like never before, we couldn't have prepared for it" is the phrase most often used to justify calamities like this.

But it is no accident. It was already known, already expected. And, I'm sorry to say, it's going to happen again. And again. And not just with the gauchos in Rio Grande do Sul.

Don't take me for an alarmist or a pessimist. Science has been warning for a long time that the increased occurrence of extreme events is one of the main consequences of climate change. The surreal amount of carbon dioxide that accumulates in the atmosphere — due to human activities — and warms the planet, alters the entire functioning of the climate system. A warmer Earth means more energy in the equation. Heat is synonymous with tragedy.

Due to its geographical location, Rio Grande do Sul is particularly sensitive to the natural phenomena El Niño and La Niña. That's why it's relatively common for droughts and heavy rains to alternate there. But global warming is making this worse. So is deforestation. And although much of this new reality translates into situations that seem to take us by surprise, scientists had already estimated that this would be the case. The consecutive tragedies that have been accumulating since last year were not for lack of warning.

The independent online newspaper Intercept Brasil recalled on May 6 a study commissioned in 2014 by the government of then president Dilma Rousseff that warned of the risk of flooding in Rio Grande do Sul. The "Brazil 2040" report mentioned the dangers of agribusiness, especially in the state, and also of hydroelectric dams, which clashed with the government's electricity expansion plans. The report ended up being shelved in 2015 without any action being taken.

We didn’t have to wait until 2040 for predicted dangers to become reality. And it wasn't just this study that warned about the risks. Local researchers, such as Francisco Aquino, a climatologist at the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul (UFRGS), have shown that extreme events are already intensifying, without anything having been done to prevent deaths and losses.

Last year, Rio Grande do Sul was the state with the highest number of rain-related emergency and disaster decrees in Brazil.

Continue reading.

[podplane]

Overbrook is about a small, (too) quiet town in upstate New York and a pair of friends dodging horrors beyond imagination while navigating the all too tangible terror of adulthood. In Overbrook, scenic nature parks are home to unnatural occurrences. There's a cozy public library where the doors sometimes vanish. Residents disappear for a bit and come back different. It's totally fine, right? I love stories about weird towns and surreal experiences, and Overbrook really delivers on that. The dynamic between Vincent and Wynn is also very fun. Fans of Welcome to Night Vale and Where the Stars Fell will enjoy Overbrook! Transcripts are linked in the show notes.

[fyodoro]

HII im request this, because i love ur writing sm<333

but what if akito x f!reader

but the readers a idol and shes kinda popular, so shes has a lot of boys hitting on her in school and akito gets jealous.

-> “𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞?”

He knew this would be a common occurrence when he started dating you… but do these guys seriously not see him holding your hand while they flirt?

With Akito Shinonome | Genre - fluff

Cw) cursing, mean jealous people boooo, jealous akito is not one of them

Akito knew what he was getting himself into. He had to after all. You- a popular idol known all around the country, who can be recognized from a mile away, with him, an average guy. You both went over it several times before it was made official, though you refused to let him refer to himself as “an average guy.”

You and Akito attempted to keep it on the low, but the paparazzi sees everything apparently. No amount of disguises and wigs could keep you hidden from at least one skeptical eye, even at an underground live house. But today the simple wig and glasses seemed to do the trick.

It took every ounce of self control in you to avoid cheering, not wanting your voice to get recognized. But when your boyfriend hit a perfect high note- you couldn’t help the loud cheer of enthusiasm and excitement you let out. A few heads turned, but they didn’t pay any mind until…

“Hey- you sound a lot like (Full Name), and now that I look at you-“ a random crowd member said. You couldn’t bear to keep listening, hoping if you ignored him he’d leave it be.

While he might have left it be in that moment, he was certainly determined to find out whether it was really you or not, even after the event ended. Going as far as to follow you backstage…

You immediately jumped on Akito once you saw him, praising him and how well he did on stage tonight. Of course praising his fellow group members, but mainly Akito. Giggles erupted from An as everyone watched the ginger go beet red. Assuming no one was around to see this, he tugged your wig off along with the net.

Your real locks fell into place like dominoes. ‘That’s better’ he thinks, preferring your natural self over any disguise you have.

The other members of Vivid Bad Squad already knew who you were, and found it less odd due to An’s connection with Haruka Kiritani. It felt a little surreal at first, but they’ve become accustomed to your presence over a short period of time. So of course you and Akito were okay with being open about your relationship around them.

As long as no other witnesses are around… which unfortunately wasn’t the case this time. The man’s camera snapped a bit, taking off before any of you could notice.

The next day was absolute hell.

All eyes were on you in the halls of Kamiyama High School. But not the same stares you usually got, no no no. These stares were full of… disgust. Did you do something that didn’t fit their image of you? Everything was normal yesterday, what happened since then?

Whispers grew louder the closer you got to a certain green eyed male. Louder… louder… louder… and louder.

“Was the idol status seriously not enough for them? They just have to have a boyfriend as well?”

“He’s gonna drag their reputation through the mud, just watch..”

“I bet I’m a better match for them.”

“They’re getting too spoiled…”

You kept your head low until you reached the one you were looking for, the only person you wanted to look for.

“We need to talk.” He said, keeping his head low just like you while still trying to look at you.

You followed him to an empty classroom, silently praying in your head this isn’t going to end up with a heart split in half. Dread filled your stomach the longer he took to talk.

He finally broke the silence. “People- no, someone saw us, last night. Took a picture and everything.”

Your eyes went wide with shock. You could have sworn no one was around, no one else but Akito and his teammates. Someone was there that whole time? Or just long enough to get a picture as evidence you and the street singer had a thing?

“And everyone saw it?” You asked.

Akito nodded his head, avoiding eye contact. He felt ashamed of himself. Everything he’s heard today revolved around your reputation- how he’s going to ruin it. Others going as far as to say you’re too good to even be in his presence. He can’t help but wonder now if these things are true.

You however, seem to notice his distress. You gently rubbed his cheek in a reassuring way. If there’s one good thing that’s come out of all this, it’s that you don’t need to be as wary about PDA anymore.

“Whatever happens next, we have each other, yeah?” You say, not needing any response from Akito to know he agrees.

You two give a look of reassurance to each other before walking out the classroom door, hand in hand. The whispers got louder, but neither of you cared. After all, in days time this will all be forgotten about. Hopefully.

For some reason, Akito felt more dread while he held your hand. Your touch was the most comforting thing in the world to him- but he couldn’t help but feel as if someone was plotting something. It was unnerving.

He’s grown used to the whispers, the stares, and even the direct remarks over the past few days. But today felt different. People were eyeing him more than they were eyeing you, and the whispers included his name more than usual.

“Is something wrong, ‘Kito?” You asked, concern written all over your face.

“Not really, just a bit annoyed. Wish these guys would just… shut up. You know?” Of course you knew. You probably knew more than him anyways, dealing with rumors for so many years.

You chuckled softly, distracting you enough for you to not notice a new presence approaching.

The guy looked like he was up to no good. His hands in his pockets and a smug look on his face set alarms off in Akito’s mind immediately. What could he possibly want with you, or him?

You seemed to finally notice him, turning your head and raising a brow. “Can I help you?” You asked with your typical idol facade.

“Actually, you can. You see there’s a party going on at my place tonight, and it’d be great if you came. I already told some people you’d be there with me, so I kinda need you to.”

‘Hell no’ Akito thought. It was wrong enough he told people you’d be there when you lost certainly weren’t, but the nerve to ask just you to this party in front of him? Your boyfriend? He knew what this guy was up to, and he didn’t like it.

“I don’t think I should be at any parties, especially with-“ Akito cut you off.

“They can’t go man, fuck off.” His tone was harsher than normal, emphasizing his point even more.

“Who do you think your telling to fuck off, Shinonome? Surely you don’t think they’re better off spending the evening with you?” The guy’s posture straightened even more, his stance seemingly gettin defensive.

“Actually I do think that. I don’t think they should go to any party of yours, especially without me. So if you’ll excuse us…” Akito tugged your hand, pulling you away from the commotion. It didn’t take a genius to know he was frustrated.

He didn’t care if it was the middle of the school day, you and him were going home. You two could use a break after the week you’ve had.

Quietly opening the front door to avoid alerting Ena, he made his way inside the house alongside you. Throwing off your shoes and hanging his bag, you made your way to the living room.

“I… I heard things about that guy… it took me a bit to realize it was him, but I knew it was as soon as he went on about that party.” Akito sighed and took a breath before continuing. “He messes with other guys by getting close to their partners… I know Someone in my class who’s girl cheated on him with that dude.”

You understood now, he wasn‘r frustrated cause the guy was trying to use you for a party, he was frustrated cause he was trying to take you from him. You took Akito’s hand for the nth time that day, rubbing small circles on the back with your thumb.

“I didn’t have any intentions on going with him, especially without you. I also have no intentions in ever leaving you, for anyone. You got that?” Akito nodded and let his head fall on your shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was so jealous for, but he felt better now that his mind is clear.

“We had a long week, why don’t we take a nap here?”

“That sounds nice.” Akito replied. Already pulling you down with him on the couch before shutting his eyes. He didn’t seem to care you and guys were still in school uniform, and honestly that seemed to be the last of his concerns.

He couldn’t care less if he was sleeping in his school uniform. As long as you were next to him, it was okay.

[chaosresturantjandn4eva]

It's spanish. I understand the words, i thought it had a deeper meaning i was not understanding, the literal translation didn't make sense to me. Thank you anyway.

No it’s pure chaos.

It’s my version of Welcome to Night Vale but in a blog form.

"Welcome to Night Vale" is a unique and surreal podcast that presents itself as a community radio broadcast from the fictional desert town of Night Vale. The show combines elements of horror, science fiction, and absurdist humor, creating a quirky and immersive experience.

The podcast is narrated by Cecil Baldwin, the voice of the community radio host, who shares news and updates about the town's strange happenings, from mysterious government agencies and supernatural beings to bizarre local events and peculiar residents. The show often features recurring characters, such as the glow cloud (a cloud that rains dead animals), the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, and the enigmatic sheriff's secret police.

The charm of "Welcome to Night Vale" lies in its ability to blend the ordinary with the extraordinary, making the bizarre seem normal and inviting listeners into a world where anything can happen. Its themes often touch on the absurdity of life, the nature of community, and the complexities of human existence—all wrapped in a humorous and whimsical package. It's a delightful exploration of the uncanny, encouraging listeners to embrace the weirdness of life.

1. **Bizarre Situations**: The podcast presents everyday scenarios that quickly spiral into the surreal. For instance, a simple town meeting might devolve into discussions about interdimensional beings or a mysterious glow cloud that rains dead animals. This blending of the mundane and the fantastical creates an absurd atmosphere.

2. **Unusual Characters**: The town is populated with eccentric characters, like a faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home or a scientist who conducts experiments on the townsfolk. These characters often embody absurd traits or behaviors that challenge conventional logic.

3. **Dark Humor**: The show frequently uses dark humor to highlight the absurdities of life, such as the normalization of strange phenomena. For example, the townspeople might casually discuss a government conspiracy or the arrival of a new, malevolent entity as if these events are just part of daily life.

4. **Contradictory Logic**: The narrative often embraces contradictions, such as presenting terrifying situations in a lighthearted manner. The characters may react to bizarre occurrences with nonchalance, further emphasizing the absurdity of their reality.

5. **Surreal Narration**: Cecil’s calm, soothing voice contrasts with the bizarre news he shares, creating a dissonance that heightens the absurdity. His deadpan delivery of outrageous events makes the weirdness feel both relatable and utterly strange.

Overall, the absurdity of "Welcome to Night Vale" lies in its ability to take the ordinary and twist it into the extraordinary, inviting listeners to question the nature of reality while embracing the humor found in the bizarre.

[alteon77]

*IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm copying everything over from AO3 to here because this series has a sequel coming out in the Fall, and I'd rather be prepared just in case AO3 goes down again. This is an old, complete story. So if you recognize it, you're not imagining things. 😂

Chapter Publication Date: 10/21/22 | Word Count: 5,291

All the Precious and Fragile Things (so easily do they break): Chapter 1

Part I: All of This Past

After banishing his lover to the waking world for her deception, Morpheus learns she’s been captured by a revenge-seeking Alexander Burgess.

And that she’s also very pregnant with his child.

Unknown to the both of them, this will set in motion a cascade of events that threatens the whole of existence itself.

AO3 here, Masterlist here

ONE HUNDRED AND THREE YEARS PAST...

Time, like many things in the Dreaming, is only a fluid concept. As opposed to the Waking, in which its beat is as steady as the constant tick of a metronome to a song, time in the Dreaming has a wholly wilder nature. With no rhyme or reason, it will settle down and rush forward only to stagnate flat for a while before it seemingly tires of the resting and rises up in a great swell of movement. 

It is for this reason that Lucienne is unsure of precisely how many years Lord Morpheus has been absent from the Dreaming when she is taken.

Outside the gates of the realm earlier, there had been a spike of energy (pulsing starlight bright) that she had thought was the Dream Lord returned at last to his home. Worried for him and what could have kept him away for so long, she'd rushed out to reach the Endless, to assist him in whatever way she could. 

When she gets to where the light was, though, he’s not there. Nothing is, and she barely has a moment to confusedly consider the emptiness before something is grabbing her tightly from behind. So surreal is the occurrence that she cannot process the cold jut of armor against her back, cannot brace herself for the blow as she's hit across the head with something hard, cannot make sense of her attack even as her vision blurs and then goes dark. 

When she awakens, she's no longer near her home, instead confined to the darkness of a dungeon where her tormentors try and wring information from her through pain and hurt and atrocity that she doesn't think she will ever heal from. Not really.   She'd grown used to the gentle peace of the Dreaming, where none of its denizens within knew injury or hunger or need under the meticulous care of Lord Morpheus, and so the razor sharp survival of her imprisonment here is like nothing she's known. It makes her miss home with a sorrow that pits inside of her belly like the hunger from the starvation she endures regularly now.

Time in this realm, wherever hell this is, has a much more steady cadence. Its beat is reliable, fast for all that her captors and the pain they inflict makes it feel as if it thrums agonizingly slowly here. 

And then one day, everything abruptly changes.That they've dragged her out of her small cell is strange, a variance to the pattern of their usual violent treatment that puts her on instant alert. Trepidation curls viciously in her stomach as her captors start their long journey with her, forcing her to stumble along beside them despite that her legs seem ill suited to carrying her. While they make their bawdy, threatening jokes at her expense, the time around them crawls, going far more slowly than the furious staccato of her heart. She is a creature of the Dreaming, and yet she feels as if she is being carried further and further into a hellish horror that makes the nightmares of her own realm seem but child's play. 

The room she ends up in has tall, gold columns, light filtering through the high windows on either side of it, and a dangerous looking male sitting on a throne of iron. Lucienne can only catch a furtive glance, but she sees a crown atop his head of crackling power, crimson and snapping violently where it hums with energy. He's glaring at the figure on the bottom of the steps as they fling Lucienne down before them, and Lucienne chances the minute to lift her gaze and sneak a longer look at this newcomer, only to be caught off guard by the strange blue she can see shining from this woman's eyes, something in them glowing as if it should not exist, a cerulean manifestation of great magic shimmering amongst the dreariness of this reality. There's a gentle power that emanates from her as well that's peculiar to feel here of all places, but it strangely soothes some part of the librarian that she didn't even know needed soothing. 

The woman seems to notice her inquisitive stare but she does not smile at Lucienne. Instead, she simply tilts her head in a nod that speaks of acknowledgement. 

"I thank you, Hadrius of the Adirae." Her voice is like the sweetest song despite the words twisting Lucienne's gut in apprehension. She doesn't know this female, can't fathom what she might want of Lucienne, but she's suddenly very worried that it's not for anything good. She knows well enough how the beauty of immortals tends to mask the darkness festering inside of them. And for a moment, she balances the dichotomy of relief at being away from this place and its torture against the very real fear of the raw power she senses coming from this unknown entity. What will this woman do to her? What could she want from her? Is Lucienne exchanging one nightmarish existence for another? Possibly one even worse? Though, in truth she doesn’t believe she can imagine anything more horrible than what she's already been subjected to, anything that might... damage her as this ordeal surely has. 

"Follow me," she tells Lucienne, and the librarian scrambles to her feet to do just that. The woman does not say anything else to her then, but she does walk a little slower as if to allow Lucienne to catch up, and that sliver of possible consideration sparks something like hope within her. Perhaps this new terror of Lucienne's is simply panic, a completely understandable malady to be suffering from in her opinion. This could all be fine, she thinks, despite that there's a voice in her head telling her otherwise. When they're outside the castle and settled squarely in the desolate, eerily empty town that Lucienne is quite certain must be deserted, the woman lightly rests a hand on the librarian's arm, seemingly taking care to avoid the worst of the bruises there, before she summons her magic to shift them from the realm. 

When they arrive, Lucienne expects a grand entrance, a palace, a fantastical place the likes that magic wielders tend to keep, but they absurdly enough land before a rather ordinary looking house. It strikes her as something that might appear the Waking, with its white siding and large front porch. Trees sprawl around it lazily, leafed limbs drooping to the ground, colorful flowers blooming vibrant on the bushes around the perimeter of the house and fence. Lucienne glances around confusedly as the woman leads her up the stairs, inside the home, and to a kitchen. An exceedingly normal kitchen, she thinks. Light here filters in through the windows where shelves of herbs and plants soak up the sun. Another whole wall of the space is crammed with books, their leather spines carefully organized and obviously kept free of dust. Mouth-watering soup boils on the stove, and the scent of fresh bread pleasantly permeates the air, making her stomach twist in want for food. 

"You can call me May," the woman supplies while she carefully helps Lucienne to a chair to sit, and even in the whirl of thoughts and emotions rushing through her mind, Lucienne has the distinct impression that May isn't this entity's true name. She recognizes, however, that she's really in no position to argue anyone over lying about such a thing at the moment, especially not this creature of power before her. "You're safe now."

Safe. That word. She wonders if she'll ever feel safe again, if she's even capable of doing so anymore. Having information might help her, given that there's a sort of protection in understanding the details of what exactly is happening around her, a protection that she sorely needs in this present situation to anchor her amidst the roiling storm of her own fear. Lucienne has a million questions on the tip of her tongue, waiting for her to voice them, and yet she doesn't speak. She's honestly not even sure if she can right now.

"Apologies it took so long. I didn't realize that they had you at first. When I was finally made aware, I had to wait overly long for an audience with that broveshne ."

Lucienne, despite all her knowledge, doesn't know what that word broveshne means, but May says it as if she would like to stab Hadrius with it, and it makes the librarian irrationally pleased.

The woman- May- goes on, "I thought we could change into something more comfortable, maybe wash up, and then eat? It's been a while since I was held captive, but I definitely recall the starving as being one of the worst parts."

Lucienne still doesn't speak, and her silence seems to trouble May, who crouches before her as one might a skittish animal, like she’s trying to make herself look as non threatening as possible. "You're really safe, sweetling. This isn’t a trick. We'll get you healed up, and then we'll go and fix the Dreaming until we can find the Dream King."

"The Dreaming?" Lucienne finally croaks a response out as if she's repeating a deity's name, reverent despite that her throat burns with the words, and May frowns at this.

May stands at once to pour a glass of water and then stoops before Lucienne again to offer it as she cautions, "Drink it slowly."

The coolness of the water in her mouth feels like the best comfort in the universe. It reminds her of her library, the smell of paper and ink, the creak of leather when she first opens a new tome, the crackle of the library fireplaces on colder days, the light shining in through thick-paned windows, and the plushness of the chairs dotted throughout its sections for reading. She gulps greedily of it until May tilts the glass away from her.

"I'm sorry," she says with a wince, "but you really will get sick if you drink it too quickly."

"I…. understand." Lucienne's voice is still rough, but it feels easier to speak, less painful, and for that she's grateful. How long had it been since she'd had water? Since she'd had anything on her raw throat save for screams? May hands her the glass back, and Lucienne focuses on taking small sips, not wanting this magnificent gift to be taken from her anew.  

"I hope you like vegetable soup." May smiles at her and gets back to her feet from where she'd been sitting on her haunches in front of Lucienne. "I didn't know what you'd prefer, but most everyone will eat that, so I thought it the better choice."

"Vegetable soup is... fine." 

"I know you have more questions, but lets get the filth of that place off of us, and then we'll eat and talk. I'll answer anything you ask then." 

But Lucienne doesn't believe her. Not really. She wishes she could, despite that she's sure there has to be a catch in this exchange. What does this woman want of her? Why is she being so polite? So kind? It makes no sense, and to someone as logic oriented as Lucienne, that is horribly unsettling.

Nonetheless, she does as her rescuer suggests, and an hour later, they're both sitting at this odd woman's simple wood table, steaming bowls of soup and fresh bread and butter before them. Lucienne has to admit, she does feel better to have the stink of that place off of her. May had given her a pair of pants and a loose night shirt that feels as if it's made of the softest cotton lawn, and she smells of the lavender from the soap in her bath, with which she'd scrubbed the blood off of herself until she'd worried she might accidentally remove skin as she did so. 

"Eat slowly," May warns, her voice threaded through with what Lucienne thinks is more kindness, a puzzling thing to hear even if May has been nothing but considerate to her so far. "The food will make you sicker than the water if you go too quickly."

The woman sounds not unlike she's giving advice from experience. She had said "since I was held captive" earlier, hadn't she? Lucienne stores that particular curiosity away for later, saving the question since it's not important, and she's expecting to have to wheedle and bargain for what she actually needs to know. When dealing with immortal creatures of magic, it's not unusual to have to barter a bit for answers.

"You know of the Dreaming?" Lucienne asks, preparing herself for a roundabout, useless reply the likes of which the Fates might provide.

May nods, surprisingly direct in her response as she blows at a spoonful of her soup to cool it off. "We came across a group of nightmares that were preying on humans. I couldn't figure out why your ruler was allowing them to roam free. He's usually much stricter with his creations, as I'm sure you're aware."

Ah, yes. Lucienne is aware of that. The Corinthian. Lord Morpheus had left to bring him back from the Waking, and he had not returned. As far as Lucienne knows, he still hasn't done so. "There were stray nightmares? And you... thought to inform him of this?"

"Not... quite. I honestly thought only to tell him to get them back in line, to curb their bloodlust or something." May, rather nonchalantly for an entity that's just admitted she'd wanted to chastise Dream of the Endless like he was no more than an errant, misbehaving child however long ago, takes a bite of her soup and gestures towards Lucienne's own as if she should do the same. "I went to the Dreaming to request an audience, but he wasn't there. It felt... strange, abandoned, as if he hadn't been there for a while. I even tried to summon him in all the old ways, but I couldn't get an answer." She huffs out a sigh. "I went to Destiny of the Endless after that and basically harassed him until he very begrudgingly told me that Dream was imprisoned by mortals and there I discovered your plight."  

"How did you secure my release?" Memories flood Lucienne's mind then, recollections of pain, of torture and torment. Hadrius and his interrogation, his joy at seeing her cry, at hearing her scream, runs through her thoughts with all the force of a physical blow. Her fingers unconsciously brush over the branding mark that they'd burned into the back of her other hand, tracing the raised edges of it as she's done for years since being abducted from her home. It had been a soothing gesture then, one of the only things she'd been able to do in her efforts to ground herself in that hell.

Now, however, May narrows her eyes on the injury as if she's only now noticing it, and Lucienne is bewildered to see an expression of pity cross her features. 

"I have compromising information on him," May supplies. "I very politely informed him that I was an emissary from the Dreaming, and that if he didn't hand you over I'd tell everyone what I knew." A faint smile turns her lips up. "Believe me, he doesn't want that to happen."

And May says it as if it was the easiest thing in all the worlds, as if decades of torture and pain and fear were as easy to end as a bit of blackmail and the word please. 

"I had planned to get you healthy again, and once you're mended, I'll take you back to the Dreaming," she goes on. "I've already got my brother and his contacts looking into where your lord might be."

"He's been imprisoned?" Lucienne queries, her mind working more slowly than it should to parse out all that May is telling her freely, no persuasion or manipulation or cleverness needed. It's a drastic but welcome change from the usual immortals she deals with, and she is oddly grateful for it. 

May nods again as she pushes Lucienne's bowl closer to her in what the librarian thinks is a more insistent gesture that she should eat. "By humans at that. I'm sure that's going to put him in a most charming mood when we finally get him out," she adds dryly, and Lucienne can't help the tiny smile she gives in return.

"And then?"

The woman huffs out a faint laugh, like she's amused. "Well, I suppose then he can finally take care of that nightmare problem, can't he? Goodness knows I'm getting tired of listening to my brother complain about having to do it."

Lucienne can't help her relief at this answer, at the effortless trust she seems to have for this entity. It might make her foolish, but for the first time in a long time, she feels hope swell in her heart for some reason, hope for the future, hope that maybe, just maybe, things might eventually be fine after all. 

PRESENT DAY...

"My lord…." Lucienne's voice is hesitant, an oddity in and of itself. 

Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, glances up at her from the leather-bound register he'd been going through and frowns. The dappled light filtering in from the windows behind him does little to mitigate the gloominess of his throne room, but he can easily see that his librarian is standing rigid in her usual place, her spine stiffened in a way that he thinks reminds him all too much of fear. As he studies her from where he sits, he takes note of her creased forehead, of her furrowed brow, of the vein in her neck that thumps furiously, far faster than it should. It is a strange thing to see her so clearly shaken, and he decides immediately that he does not care for it.

"We must… speak." Her words are halting, as if it takes some great feat of strength to force them from her mouth, and she looks so unsure of herself that he knows she must have something either important or catastrophic to tell him. Perhaps both. Carefully, he closes his book and places it on the pile he had been reading from, gathering from his librarian's apparent apprehension that she might require his full attention for whatever has happened. With an unusual feeling of alarm, he walks slowly down the steps of the tall dais until he's but a few paces from her.  

"Very well," he grants, still regarding her curiously.

"Viego has been trying to contact you," is her reply, and he thinks he now understands why exactly she had seemed so reticent to begin this conversation. 

Morpheus feels his face darken in warning, his whole body going taut with anger at the mention of this. That Viego, May's brother, has been trying to contact him is not unknown to the Endless. He's felt the pull from the summoning several times and resolutely ignored it.  "Do not concern yourself with the makers," he growls out, and what he means is do not speak to me of anything to do with her, with my once betrothed.

Lucienne, however, only draws in a sharp breath, regret written plainly on her face. "I fear I must, my lord."

He's surprised, which seems a paltry descriptor for the magnitude of sheer shock that wells up within him. His librarian has always been unfailingly loyal, even in her early days when she was a wild raven that grappled with leaving her mortal life behind. To see her now disobeying him for that deceiver of a female sets his teeth on edge. Had his betrayer truly infected everything in his realm so thoroughly? Would the damage she wrought ever be completely purged from this place? He knows that Lucienne had been overly attached to her for some reason that he never did and still does not understand, but her first duty remains to him and the Dreaming. 

Without waiting for a word from him, she continues on. "When you were first taken and bound by Roderick Burgess, I was captured by Hadrius of the Adirae," Lucienne admits with the slightest tremble in her tone, her eyes downcast as she relays this to him. 

Morpheus stiffens in confusion, the words so unexpected that he's momentarily unable to parse what she's just said. How has he never heard of this? That his own librarian was taken by that monster and he had not known is wholly startling.

"Hadrius?" he repeats, almost hoping that perhaps he's misunderstood her. Morpheus will confess that he does not know much of that malevolent being, save that which he imagines everyone else does. Hadrius currently resides in a realm utterly destroyed by his own violent brutality, and he has existed for eons, possibly even longer than the Endless themselves have. But beyond that and the rumors which circulate every now and then, he is an enigma lost to time, a puzzle on the outskirts of reality that few have been brave enough to try and solve. 

Lucienne nods and finally looks back up at him, a latent terror present in her expression that Morpheus has never seen from her before. "Some of his men abducted me outside the gates during your absence. They…. questioned me on various aspects of the Dreaming and details regarding its function, seeking secrets and information that I could not give them."

They had sought details of the Dreaming? Whatever for? Surely they could not be fool enough to step foot in his realm? Not with his power returned to him in full as it is now. He decides that he will mull over that later, however, believing it irrelevant to what Lucienne seems to be trying to tell him. He turns his attention to her anew, thinking over her words as he does.

The way she had said questioned tightens his chest in both pity and concern. He's heard gossip of the savagery displayed by that mysterious entity called Hadrius, heard the tales of him torturing his wife to death and burning his own children alive after a cruel imprisonment in the dungeons. He doesn't need her to tell him that her interrogation was likely painful, likely horrendous.

"You were hurt," he breathes out instead of voicing this, a fury rising in him at the thought of one of his own being treated thusly. He has a responsibility to them, he knows, and he fights the sudden urge to seek her captors out and violently rend them with his shadows for their trespass.

Lucienne nods again, and he thinks he sees a shine in her eyes, an uncharacteristic sheen of tears that threaten to collect and fall. "I was treated…. harshly. Over a decade into my captivity, she..."

Decade? While he had languished in Roderick Burgess' binding circle, she had been held and suffered likely unspeakable torment for over a decade? He thinks he should comfort her, should console her in some way. His hand twitches with the unfamiliar, nearly absurd impulse to rest on her shoulder, but she seems as if she's holding herself together by sheer willpower, and he fears that such a gesture, especially coming from him, might shatter the brittleness of her in this moment. "Yes? Go on."

"May... came and rescued me. She helped to heal me."

That name. Her name. It cuts through him with all the bite of a serrated blade. 

"Why was I not told?" he demands sharply, fury coursing through him at both the mention of her and the audacity of that rat Hadrius for daring to abscond with, to hurt, his librarian. 

"She wanted to, but I was…. uncomfortable with sharing such knowledge. She agreed that she would stay silent, and I could speak about it in my own time, when I was…. ready."

And while he is loathe to admit it, that seems something May would do if he's entirely honest, offering her unassuming help to Lucienne as she'd done for him. In a bittersweet way, he remembers how she had pestered him with her presence after he'd retrieved his tools from their scattered places in the Waking (likely knowing that he had to hate being alone after so much time spent in the complete isolation of that glass sphere). He remembers how she had taken to laying gentle hands on his arm (as if to give him the touch that he craved but didn't have the words to ask for). He remembers how she'd dragged him to the Waking to show him the kindness and goodness of the humans (to remind him not to narrow the entire world of their kind down to the hurt of his imprisonment and the evil of Roderick Burgess). He remembers her listening quietly as he'd told her everything he could one night while she'd pressed naked against him in the afterglow of their lovemaking, her hands stroking his chest, reaching for his hand, pressing kisses against the knuckles as she'd sought to calm him, to let him know that she was there for him. He remembers the way that he'd felt her love and had real hope for the first time in millennia that perhaps there was something more for him outside an existence merely lived for the sake of his function.

How utterly foolish he had been then. To believe he could ever be allowed to keep such happiness for his own when so often his history had demonstrated the exact opposite. Even now, the sting of his past idiocy burns his pride.

"And are you ready?" he questions, gentling his voice as he wills the memories of her away, unwilling to think overly about the taint of her deception on them at present. He focuses instead on Lucienne, his advisor, though he has never called her that to her face, never acknowledged her role in any formal capacity. 

Her eyes burn at him, an odd intensity in them. "No, sir, but…. I must."

"You need not, Lucienne. I am quite willing to wait as long as you require until you are comfortable discussing this," he offers, still mindful to keep his tone low and soothing. 

"Sir…. when we finally arrived back here, after she had nursed me back to health, the realm was already in decay. She…. put her magic into the Dreaming to keep it alive for the subjects. And then she threw herself into finding you, and finally…. into bringing you back here."

In an instant, his compassionate calm is no more. His jaw clenches so hard he'd break teeth were he a human. He hates being reminded of her rescue of him, no doubt an elaborate plot of one of his siblings. Desire, most likely. "I'm aware of both her efforts in the Dreaming and that she freed me, Lucienne. What point are you trying to make? That I owe her?"

"To remind you of all she has done for this realm. Her brother has been trying to contact you because she is in trouble. It's-"

"None of my concern," Morpheus bites out, finishing for her. 

His librarian is clearly taken aback by his refusal. "But we… we have located her, and-" she tries again.

"You have been working with him? Against my express wishes to avoid involvement?" His interruption is one of shock. He had known that she was friendly with May, but to risk his wrath is uncharacteristically reckless of her.

"She is bound, sir, in a perfect copy of the binding circle that you were trapped in," Lucienne finally tells him, the admission spilling from her in a rush.

For a few moments, he's silent as he processes this.

"She is bound with her own spell?" he asks at last, intending the words to come out cruel, but instead his heart twists at the reality of her being bound as he had been, captive to the same nightmare she had saved him from, no matter her actual motives for freeing him.

"I remain convinced that this has little to do with me," he decides, something in him tugging unpleasantly at the thought of her in such danger, "but I will contact her brother immediately and assist however I am able."

He assumes this will assuage Lucienne, but the librarian only seems to grow tenser at his offer of help. 

"Sir… she's held in the same binding circle that held you. The binding circle of an Endless," she repeats more slowly, as if there's something that she's trying to relay to him, but she can't quite muster up the words to speak it. 

He frowns at her, not understanding what she could possibly be getting at, but the idea of that specific spell holding her is passing strange now that he thinks on it. His once betrothed is many things, but an Endless is assuredly not one of them.

"She's held by it because she carries a part of you inside of her, a part that is subject to the binding of an Endless."

It takes him several long moments to comprehend what she's conceivably telling him, and even then he's sure that he's misunderstood. He has to have misunderstood, because the alternative is nothing less than appalling. "You cannot mean that she is…" he trails off in something like horror.

"With child," Lucienne finishes for him, her words short and simple despite the enormity of their meaning and all the many ramifications inherent in them. "Yes."

Morpheus sits heavily on a step, feeling strangely as if his legs might give out from beneath him. Doubt, shock, dread, rage, and disbelief are but a few of the many emotions roiling through his mind. How could this have came to be? Neither his kind nor hers are given to accidental procreation, and they had taken steps to avoid such a thing. Now, however, he's learning that he'd likely left her with child, that he'd nearly... 

His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, unwilling as he is to think on that. They had certainly not parted well, their relationship set aflame by her misdeeds and left as naught but ashes in the end. His love for her had been absolute, fierce, and with it his heart had been thoroughly broken. He’d thought that he had suffered all the pain he could from their fallout, but to know that she is currently trapped, his child growing inside of her, cuts at him in an all new way, something unfamiliar but gut-wrenching all the same. 

Outside the palace it darkens. Thunder rolls loudly, and a bolt of lightning splits the sky of the Dreaming before a torrential downpour starts, all of this a sudden manifestation of his turmoil.

"How… long....?" He's unable to organize his thoughts, but his librarian's face softens as she seems to take mercy on him and starts answering the questions he cannot form or give voice to in the wake of this news.

"She's been held for six months at least, and…. we feared her dead for some of that time. Only recently Matthew was able to find her while he searched the Waking, and it...  became very clear what had happened to her."

Feared her dead? They had thought her dead and never bothered to tell him? He is unsure as to why the possibility of that twists inside of him so sharply, why the possibility of her lifeless makes him feel almost ill.

"Is he... with her now?" 

Lucienne nods in response, hesitation clear in the way she falteringly informs him, "Sir… it is…. You might not wish to witness what... what he is in this... exact moment."

"Matthew," Morpheus calls, never taking his eyes off of Lucienne, something like betrayal churning in his gut alongside his newfound fear for the female he had once offered to make his wife, his queen. Fear for her and... fear for the child she carries. His... His child.

"Hiya boss," the raven greets, his tone sounding unnaturally nervous and the reply delivered far too quickly for Morpheus to think he had not been waiting for this very summons. 

"Show me," he commands tersely before he enters Matthew's mind, and he finds that he is wholly unprepared for the image that awaits him there.  

(May is in the circle, completely stripped and nude as he had been when he was imprisoned, and he's... alarmed... by her state. She's a gaunt thing, all of her unnaturally bone thin in what he believes to be... starvation? Despite the large swell of her stomach where a child obviously rests, her ribs are plainly visible, the knots of her spine protruding far more than they should where she's curled on her side, and he knows with a sickening dread that withholding sustenance must have indeed been one of the tools of torture that her tormentors used on her. She appears ill, near death he'd even say, and Morpheus feels as if he could tear a world apart from the sheer wrathful anger that rises up in him with this horrific understanding.

Beside her, drawn in that same haunting gold that he'd looked upon for decades, is a duplicate of the binding spell that holds her. 

"Call him." Her human captor snarls out his order, but May simply ignores him, staring off into the distance as if she's finally given up, her hopelessness a heartbreaking thing to see. Even through the thin slit of the window where the thick, black covering on it has peeled back very slightly, he thinks he can almost feel her despair as if it is his own. At Morpheus' bidding, his raven moves closer, and he observes with Matthew's eyes the presence of six long, ugly gashes that travel from her neck to the base of her back, all of them still sluggishly weeping blood. Rage, vengeful and all-consuming, takes hold of him then. What had been done to her? What terror had this monster dared to inflict on a woman weakened with child? 

"Call him, and we'll let you go." The mortal tries to bargain, but May seems... suddenly animated at this. Sitting up slowly, tentatively as if she's in a great deal of pain, she flicks angry eyes up at him, a fury swirling in their depths that he's never seen from her before, that he didn't even know she was capable of. Her expression almost distracts him from the dark bruising on her cheek, the jagged cut above her left eye.

"It's not happening. No matter how many times you ask," she answers, glaring at her jailer.

"Then you'll die." May flinches when he says this. "You're not as sturdy as he is, are you? He lasted for thirty years and seemed like he could have gone on longer, but you….you're dying now." He grins sadistically at that, leaning closer to her after he brandishes a knife, a very familiar, very cursed knife. Morpheus remembers it being brutally pulled out of her back once, remembers the look on Roderick Burgess' face when he'd yanked it from her flesh while May had been in the process of rescuing Morpheus several decades ago. "I wonder if Dream of the Endless would come for his bastard sooner than you? If I were to cut it out, would that summon him here? If I were to make it cry? Make it scream?"

She draws in a trembling breath at the sight of the cursed blade before seemingly forcing herself steady again.

"He won't come for either of us," she tells him, her voice almost desolate in its quiet. "You've picked very poor bait, Alexander Burgess, and the stain of what you're doing will see you in Hell when Death arrives for you."

Alexander Burgess chuckles, a depraved sound that has her tensing as if waiting for a blow, as if she has received many blows from this mortal and can't help but to instinctively fear more. Instead, her captor brings the knife down hard right outside the circle, plunging it deep into something that Morpheus cannot quite make out, though May jerks away from the threatening gesture. She moves as far away from her abductor as she's seemingly able to, her body near enough to the golden sigils of the binding that she hisses when her hand gets to close. "Very well. I think next time I'll put it in your stomach. That thing's death might not make him come, but it might make you cooperate."

After he's left, the gate of the basement creaking and then slamming loudly behind him, May stares as if she's on alert for him to return and... and hurt her anew. Several minutes pass before shakily, she cradles the swell of her belly where the child grows, brushing trembling fingers there as if she's trying to soothe the baby, as if she's trying to reassure herself that its still there and safe. Her eyes well with tears, and she gives a small, almost silent sob that rends his heart to hear.) 

Morpheus breaks off the connection, breathing raggedly. The ground outside trembles turbulently, the shudders of it stretching through the entirety of the realm. His stomach lurches, his panic an unfamiliar beast snapping violently inside of his very being while his shadows, the most nightmarish aspect of his power, chitter excitedly, ready to exact retribution for Alexander Burgess' offense, ready to savagely assist him in the undertaking he is soon to begin. Around him, a tense silence hangs heavy over the throne room as he forcibly gathers himself. 

"Where is Viego Westin?" he demands of Lucienne when he finally calms the impossible, too-fast beat of his manifested heart. "I must speak with her brother immediately."

As a general rule, Viego Westin doesn't like to get involved with the Endless. 

That's a completely fair stance, he thinks, given that him and his sister have survived for a hell of a long time on Earth by avoiding unnecessary attention, and those Endless bastards always seem to draw tons of that. Not that they can help it, really. They're concepts made flesh, the massive power of that jarring even to those who can't sense the magic behind it as he can. 

When it had came to the Dreaming and its ruler, Viego had very much wanted to avoid getting mixed up in that too. After all, what did it have to do with him if some Endless was trapped in a binding circle? It's not like any of them would actually lift so much as an eyebrow to help him or May if the situation were reversed, but his sister, stubborn to a frustrating fault, had overruled him. In the countless millennia they've lived and coexisted and survived together, he's learned well the valuable lesson of choosing what battles to pick with her, and at the time it had honestly seemed harmless enough. Their checklist went: keep realm alive, rescue Emo Endless, and celebrate with something alcoholic.

Of course, now, in hindsight he wishes he had chosen to pick that particular battle. 

Because the aftermath of it has… well, gone to absolute shit doesn't seem a strong enough way to describe how sideways it's all gone. 

He'd known after her first decade in the Dreaming that May had went and fallen in love with that mopey bastard Dream. Granted, she hadn't actually told him that, not then and not for about seventy years after that, but Viego isn't an idiot. And he'd have to have been not to notice the tender, loving glances that Dream and May would share (okay… fine), or the way that Dream would sneak her away to somewhere hidden just so he could brush a kiss against her hand (which… sickly sweet enough to be nauseating but mostly tolerable), or the fact that Viego could smell the Endless on May sometimes (uncomfortably disgusting at the absolute least) in probably the clearest sign possible that the two of them had been doing the old devil's tango. Viego isn't a prude, not by any stretch of any imagination, but knowing that Dream had been defiling his sister had required a great deal of effort on his part to keep his mouth shut and his magic calmed and his temper firmly suppressed. Honestly, his first thought when May had at last told him they were to bond had been fucking finally.

Then she showed up eight months ago, and he felt all that restraint disappear, gone as an urge grew within him to march straight into the Dreaming and beat Dream bloody, Endless or no. His sister, worn and pale as a corpse at his front door, was hurt and exiled and terribly, terribly broken. 

Oh, and pregnant. She was that too. Pregnant and unbonded , a death sentence for their kind, the very death sentence that had ended up destroying their own mother. 

("You didn't even bond with him?" Viego breathed out incredulously when she revealed her pregnancy, stunned disbelief in his eyes at her uncharacteristic stupidity. She knew better. "May…. what in the hell were you thinking?"

"I was an idiot," May answered him, self-loathing clear in her tone, her eyes shining with tears as Viego led her to their kitchen table and ushered her into a seat there. "I thought…. I thought he actually loved me."

Fear twisting in his gut, Viego considered this. He'd had his fair share of arguments with sexual partners over the centuries, and May had never really done the serious thing with anyone before. He entertained the idea that perhaps she just didn't understand how such fights worked. "Maybe he does still. Maybe this is just a lover's spat-"

"He's banished me. I can't even get in touch with him to tell him about the baby," she informed him as she ran a shaking hand over the swell of her belly. "He wouldn't even listen… didn't even give me a chance to… I don't even... don't even know if I could have told him, if I could have explained it..." 

Viego studied her then, and worry crept over him at how very off she sounded in her distress, how very... fragile she appeared in her grief. "Explain what, sis?"

She was silent for several minutes, her jaw clenching, her eyes watering even more as she stared over at a row of cabinets along the farthest wall, seemingly scrutinizing the knots and divots in the glossy wood grain of them. 

And then as if a spell was broken, May snapped. "About the stupid book," she bit out as she got to her feet and began pacing. "About that stupid grimoire and that stupid spell."

Viego frowned in confusion and felt utterly unable to make sense of what exactly she was telling him. "He's mad about that? You were a child. Did you tell him that you were a child?"

"Are you listening? He didn't even let me try. He just banished me because I had lied, because... I couldn't admit to him what I had done, what had been done to me. He didn't even let me say goodbye… to.... oh... Lucienne." At that name, May seemed to realize the totality of her loss, seemed to realize that she would not see her friends again. She sunk to the ground, stricken anew while she held herself tightly, and Viego knew that she was mourning those that she had been forever cut off from. His sister had always gotten too attached, after all, and he was under no delusions that she hadn't went and done the same thing this time as well.

But Viego was a hundred percent sure then that he would do anything, give or take or kill whatever the universe required, to never hear that broken, desperate sobbing come from his sister again. She was a hollowed out thing, her heart fractured before his very eyes, and Viego did not hesitate to wrap his arms around her. 

"Shh," he soothed as best he could, keeping silent on her trauma. Comfort wasn't really his thing. In truth, Viego had always been more hard edges than anything else, even before he had been shaped and molded as a killer, as a being who enjoyed the destruction at the end of everything. With his sister in his hold, he struggled to remember real genuine softness, the kind she needed as she broke apart in his arms. The solace of it was the least she deserved from him. 

He remembered the innocent, smiling girl she once was, when they were but children and the stain of power (or what some beings would do for said power) hadn't yet caused them any harm. She'd told him then that kindness wasn't weakness, and even as a youth he'd thought her foolish for it. It would be such a short time for him to be proven right, for the both of them to discover that kindness might not be a weakness, but it was definitely a luxury. One that was best left to happy moments and situations where they weren't being beaten and tortured and slowly starved to death in a dank dungeon. 

Too much like their mother, May had still tried to be kind anyway even there in that hellhole, even as a mere child suffering brutally under the order of those who should have seen to her safety. There had been other magic users in that place, chained up and drained, hurt severely, and his sister- willful and loving and stubborn to a fault- had tried to keep them as comfortable as she could, whispering stories and humming little tunes and asking about their lives. She'd tried to give them hope enough to make the inevitable dying as peaceful as it could be. 

May had comforted him too, more than even she could ever know. She'd treated his wounds as best she was able and held his hands (the only part of him he could bear to have touched) while he almost bled out in the aftermath of one of the guards deciding he had liked the look of an attractive boy, which Viego very much had been. He had found out the next time it happened (guards chatting idly by while that sadistic fuck tore him apart from the inside out again) that they'd been hurting her like that too, that she hadn't said a thing to him about it, and he had wondered why. Had she been protecting him? Sparing him? When they'd finally thrown him back in his cell, bleeding and burning in shame, he had let his little sister hold him and sob against his broken body, giving him all the solace she had left to give because he'd finally understood then that giving peace helped her find her own in some way. 

The damage of that time, Viego knew as he held his sobbing sister in the circle of his arms, was carved deep into their very souls, impossible to ever completely ignore. Even sweet, loving May had ended up changed before they'd gotten free of that place, but Viego tried not to think of that for the moment. Instead, he focused on her clinging to him all those thousands of years ago in their mutual pain and fear, used the memory as a guidepost of sorts to remember kindness when all of him thrummed with the need to find Dream of the Endless and unmake him for this offense. 

On the tiled floor of his kitchen, he tautened his hold around her, the hard swell of her belly between them as he brought his hand up to the back of her head, stroking her hair carefully as if she were frail enough that he might accidentally turn her to dust with just his embrace. 

"Shh, sis. We'll muddle through. We always have," he offered soothingly, "and you'll be a mother. Imagine that. You've always wanted children."

The truth, though he found himself unable to speak it aloud, was that she might not live long enough for that. Makers like her needed a bond to survive bearing. The lack of one had been the very thing that killed their own mother in the end, so Viego knew that May was probably aware of just how much danger she was in, of just how much danger Dream had left her in. His anger rose inside of him, and he quickly squashed it back down, choosing to focus instead on that dim, barely-there love inside of him as he wielded it clumsily to give her… well, hope. 

The Endless, he knew, could be handled later. Or so he thought.)

His sister was with him for almost a month, and he'd known her so well before, the countless millennia making every beat of her heart as familiar to him as his own, that the new changes had been… difficult for him, for them both. May had been many things in their many long years of sharing a home but never… pregnant . She slept a ton and vomited almost constantly and cried sometimes for no real reason that he could actually understand. They fussed and bickered as siblings of any age tend to do, worked together to come up with a solution to her bond dilemma, and then with that finished and behind them, they thought to settle in for the little one to arrive.  

Until May woke one morning, put off by the lack of decent food in his house. The baby growing inside of her made her equally nauseous and hungry in sporadic turns like a light flickering on and off after a toddler has figured out how fun it can be to flip the wall switch, and Viego learned very quickly that he should keep his mouth shut no matter what horrendous concoction she consumed in an attempt to appease the baby she was busy growing. She told him around lunch time that she was going on a supply run, gave him a quick hug, grabbed her keys, and then….

And then never returned. 

Frantically, he searched. Despite his disdain of the Endless fucker who'd shattered his little sister's heart, Viego wasn't too proud to beg. And beg he certainly had. As soon as the pulse of May's life disappeared from the edge of his awareness (an occurrence that hadn't even happened once during her near century in the Dreaming), Viego swallowed whatever pride he might have had left and started summoning the King of Dreams. He tried with blood and fire and burning his damn name in the old ways, but the bastard refused to answer. It was the librarian who finally reached out to him, none other than the Lucienne that May had been so heartbroken over losing, and he wasted no time in telling her what had happened, relieved when she seemed appropriately anxious about the news. She sent him rarer magical texts from the Dreaming library with a multitude of locating rituals that he cast to no avail, and eventually Lucienne, more worried than Viego would have expected given who her boss was, made the call to send a raven out to search for May. 

Weeks later, when the raven shows up at his window, Viego feels as if he might weep with relief at the prospect of news. He rushes to undo the latch and let the little guy in, but he doesn’t get the chance before something... changes. A heaviness filters through the air as his senses start to alarmingly burn. The magic of his house seems to swell and twist uncomfortably, bursting with a loud pop in his magic sense that only recedes with the arrival of none other than the Endless he most wants to punch in the face. 

"Fucking finally," he bites out at Dream, hiding his astonishment at his appearance. With how callously he had discarded May, Viego hadn't thought the Dream King cared enough to actually get involved in this. "You took your time showing up, didn't you?"

"I know where she is being held," Dream tells him stiffly, an expression of cold impassivity on his pasty face as he blatantly ignores the crude barbs in Viegos' words.  

Rage drains from Viego, and determined resolution takes its place. If the brooding bastard is going to provide him information, Viego can stow his own shit until later. 

"Where?" Viego demands roughly, grabbing a dirty duffel off of his table as he starts to rummage around and pack it with things they might need. He's never been a boy scout (since they were after his time by thousand upon thousand of years and all), but he knows the value in being prepared, especially given that May could be hurt. Two knives, a regular first aid kit, a magical first aid kit, three waters, and a couple of protein bars all make their way into the bag.  

"Fawney Rig."

That damn place? Viego stops from his packing, a blanket still clutched in his hand, and stares at Dream. His gut contorts in apprehension as he asks, "What the hell is she doing there?"

 He just knows that he's not going to like any answer that comes out of Dream's mouth.

"Her captors," the Endless supplies tonelessly, "are attempting to lure me into another binding circle."

"Of course," Viego scoffs derisively. "You ever notice that a lot of her suffering these days has to do with you?" There's a caustic spite that's painfully clear in his tone as he finally shoves the blanket into the bag and roughly zips it shut.

Those words get a reaction. Dream's marble countenance tightens as he glares at Viego, but he does not meet the scorn with an actual answer. Viego thinks that him not defending himself is a tell in and of itself. "Will we require subterfuge to enter as you and she did last time?" the Endless questions, his voice even enough despite that Viego can sense he's anything but truly calm. 

Viego's own fury, always a carefully tended magical fire, expands and rises to the surface. The heat of it blazes just under his skin, ready and willing to destroy, to kill, to see all of May's captors in flame. His darkness chitters in glee, in anticipation. "No," he growls. "We'll blast our way in."

The Dream King nods in concurrence, his sand already rippling through the reality of where they're at, and there's a low thrum of violence from the Endless. Which is... good, in Viego's humble opinion. They don't really know what they're walking into, either of them, and there's no telling how much rending they'll have to do to secure May's freedom. A pissed off anthropomorphic personification might be just the thing to sway any fight in their favor. Viego slings the bag over his shoulder and grits his teeth before the power swells and bursts, chucking them out before the nightmare that is Fawney Rig.

NEXT CHAPTER

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 9: Gone

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You insert your key into the lock, turn it, and push open the apartment door.

"Finley! You home?" you call out as you remove the key and step inside, with Jake following closely behind you.

You spot a piece of paper resting on the kitchen island and make your way over to it. Picking it up, you read its brief contents:

Y/N, I am so sorry. -Finley

The note leaves you with a sense of mystery and concern, prompting questions about what might have transpired in your absence.

"Well, that's weird," you mutter as you observe the unusual note left by Finley. Your curiosity piqued, you then notice that Finley's bedroom door is ajar, an unusual occurrence in itself. Setting the note back on the kitchen island, Jake reads it before joining you in investigating the open bedroom door. Together, you approach the room, wondering what might await inside.

As you push the door open wider and step into the bedroom, a sense of shock washes over you. The room is conspicuously empty, devoid of all its usual contents.

"What the hell?" you exclaim, your voice tinged with disbelief. The sudden disappearance of everything in Finley's bedroom leaves you utterly perplexed.

Jake's cell phone rings just as you both grapple with the bizarre situation in Finley's bedroom. He glances at the screen, revealing the caller as Coyote.

"It's Coyote," he informs you and then answers the call on speaker. "Hello?"

"Jake. Is Y/N around? I've been trying to get ahold of Finley and there's no answer," Coyote explains.

"Yeah. You're on speaker and Y/N is right here. We just got back to her place and Finley's things are gone in her bedroom."

"I'll be right over," Coyote says and the phone goes quiet.

As the weight of the situation settles upon you, you let out a sigh, your mind racing with concerns about your future in light of the unexplained disappearance of your roommate, Finley.

Then, Jake offers a surprising solution: "Move in with me."

You turn to him, your eyes reflecting your surprise and hesitation. "Jake, I can't just move in with you. We barely know each other."

Jake suggests, "Fine. Then I'll move in here. You've got two bedrooms, I'll take Finley's."

As you contemplate this arrangement, you decide to call Finley's number to ensure she hasn't simply changed her contact information. The automated response confirms your fears: "We're sorry, this number is no longer in service."

Jake offers reassurance, "Sweety, she's gone."

Feeling overwhelmed and bewildered by the situation, you move to the living room and sink onto the couch, the surreal nature of Finley's disappearance sinking in. "This is crazy," you murmur, your voice tinged with both confusion and concern.

Jake sits on the couch next to you. "How long have you known Finley?"

"Not long. Just a couple of months. I answered her roommate add," you admitted.

"What do you know about her?"

You thought about it. "Not much really, now that I think about it."

There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Jake says as he gets up from the couch and walks to the door. He opens it and Coyote is standing there.

Coyote steps into the apartment and closes the door behind him. He looks at both you and Jake. "Anything?"

"Nothing," Jake says. "What about you? What did you learn about Finley?"

Coyote starts to blush. "Uhm..."

Jake waves a hand. "We don't want to know."

You stand up. "I'm going to check her work." You look up the bar Finley worked at and called the number. "Hi. This is Y/N. Is Finley there?" You listen to the voice on the other line. "Okay. No. Thanks." You hang up and look at Jake and Coyote. "She quit. She just called in and quit."

Gavin Sinclair drinks his cup of Bourbon when there's a knock at his hotel suite door. He leisurely walks over to it, opens it and looks down at the short woman with brown hair.

"It took you long enough," he says as she walks in.

"Look I'm just here for my money," she says.

Gavin closes the door behind her and gestures for her to take a seat in the spacious hotel suite. He remains composed, his demeanor exuding an air of confidence.

"You'll get your money as long as you did everything I asked."

She looks at him. "I did." Clearly on edge, the girl glances around the opulent suite nervously. "You know, I've heard things about you, Gavin. People say you're not one to cross."

Gavin stops in his tracks, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Ah, so you've been talking to Y/N," he muses. "Interesting. She's a resourceful one, isn't she?"

"She doesn't seem like the person you described at all."

He takes another sip of his bourbon. "Well, you don't know her like I do." He opens a drawer in a nearby cabinet and retrieves a sealed envelope. With a deliberate motion, he places it on the coffee table in front of the girl. The envelope appears to contain a substantial amount of cash. "Don't spend it all in one night, Finley."

She quickly grabs the cash. "Look I'm out of here." She starts to go by him when he grabs her wrist.

Gavin's grip on Finley's wrist is firm but not painfully so. He pulls her slightly closer, his gaze locking onto hers. "Not so fast," he says calmly. "Before you go, I have a question for you."

Finley swallows hard, her nervousness palpable. "What... what do you want to know?"

As Detective Simon Fromm continues to surveil your apartment complex, he can't shake the unease he feels about his involvement with Gavin Sinclair. Something about the situation just doesn't sit right with him, and he can't ignore his instincts as a seasoned detective.

Sure, Sinclair was rich and he tossed his family's money around like it was nothing, but something about his story didn't add up.

He opens his car door and starts to walk towards your apartment.

[yeonban]

HEIZOU'S BIRTHDAY GIFTS! (We're pretending I answered on time)

@destinywoven asked: It took a little detective work of his own to discover when Heizou’s birthday fell. Perhaps he would have told Cyno if he’d asked, but that would have ruined the fun. And the surprise.

By pulling more than his fair share of very difficult strings that involved weeks of negotiations, bartering and a little bit of intimidation, Cyno has managed to secure something special; a Matra-approved detective licence. Though he would have to liaise with the Matra (something Cyno would, naturally, see to personally), with this licence in hand, Heizou would be free to conduct and pursue cases in Sumeru whenever he saw fit. This, of course, included permanent access to accommodation whenever he visited the nation, all expenses covered by the General Mahamatra himself.

All that’s left is to deliver the somewhat ambitious gift.

Nervousness is not an emotion Cyno experiences frequently, but he feels the stirrings of it now as he stands stiffly at the edge of the dock overlooking the newly arrived ship from Inazuma, his gift hidden away in an envelope behind his back. For a brief moment, Cyno contemplates stuffing the envelope back into his satchel and pretending nothing had happened. What if it’s too much? Too presumptuous? Is he overstepping a line that should not be crossed? All those questions and more swirl inside his head, but are soon silenced as he spots Heizou jogging down the gangplank.

Just the sight of him is enough to quell the restless storm within him; he’ll follow through with his plan, no matter the consequences. His decision made, Cyno relaxes his shoulders, lips curling into a small smile as he takes a short step towards his partner. 

“ Aboat time you washed into shore, ” He delivers the poor pun (he’s saving his best for later) with a straight face, drawing his arm from behind his back to hold out the envelope to Heizou. “ For you. Happy birthday. ”

The journey from Inazuma to Sumeru remains surreal to someone as unused to the sight of the ocean entirely encompassing his surroundings as Heizou is even after the dozenth time partaking in it - the endless blue offering him a sense of peace (there are no constraints in the middle of nowhere, no fatal dangers, no murderous creatures, no whimsical lightning strikes to be cautious of) but there is also far too much idle time on his hands to spend within the confines of his mind, faced with naught but the low murmur of the passing waves and the widespread freedom to think of anything and everything without worry of interruption.

Typically, the silence aids in Heizou's endeavors of planning the key points of his trip or cracking ancient yet unsolved cases as a side hobby, but today the silence feels beyond lonely, suffocating rather, as though the detective has found himself underneath the waves rather than above them. It's a common occurrence for his mood to drop as soon as his birthday rolls around, particularly so when he cannot find relief in hiding behind orchestrated distractions to pass the time until his birthday is no more, and a part of him wonders whether it'd have been for the better to schedule this trip for another time, or whether it'd have been simpler on him to extend an offer to someone to join him on the trip.

A hollow laugh escapes at the idea, one hand reaching to touch the stanchion while the redhead gazes towards the horizon. Neither could've worked, for Sara has granted him time off with his special day in mind (an awfully sensible thing of her to do, and frankly Heizou isn't sure how to feel about it) and there isn't anyone he wishes to bother with a request as inane as "spend some time with me" when everyone he knows is leading busy lives that could do without his extra interference. Kazuha isn't there anyway, and Shinobu is busy with interviews... nevermind his family. When was the last time he has even seen any of them, other than his cousin? When was the last time they had even cared to spend his birthday with him, or to gift him anything that wasn't meant for his future as the dojo's owner?

A fleeting pang of his heart ensues at the rather pathetic realization (there is no one else he can deem a friend in the land he's lived all his life, nor do his blood ties care about his existence beyond their own reputation), but an abrupt & rough inhale of air followed by a longwinded exhale (a tested & tried method) breaks the detective out of the depressive slope he may have otherwise found himself sliding down on, and Heizou attempts to refocus his attention onto something better suited for his precious time than brooding. That isn't like him, after all (he never allows it to be).

Although with far more effort than usually required, the hours-long voyage ends without a hitch. Little progress has been made in any of the cases he's tried to piece together along the way, and his mental state hasn't quite recovered from what it has been like ever since the day has started, but resiliently as ever, Heizou finds himself determined to banish the lows and concentrate on the highs as the brief turbulence heralds the ship's arrival in Sumeru. The fact alone seems to brighten the detective's spirits by a smidgen, both as a promise to soon meet with his dear friend, and as a welcoming of distractions sure to come in the shape of the city's hustle and bustle.

Perhaps the sudden wave of excitement at the prospect is what brings some spring to Heizou's steps, but he grows slightly more energized than he'd been until that point, vibrantly making his way onto the docks. It certainly helps that an overly familiar head of white hair also pops into view as soon as he glances in Sumeru's direction, and Heizou cannot help the fond chuckle that escapes him at both at the sight itself and at the very much expected pun that greets him. He's heard better ones before, but Cyno's expressionless way of uttering every joke never fails to bring a smile onto his face, nor does the other's mere presence ever fail to uplift his mood.

It's such a simple thing, and yet Heizou already feels much better than he has all day. ❛ I was wondering what joke you'd be starting today off with. If only my friends from back home knew I have the privilege of hearing puns like these every time I visit Sumeru, they'd be envious for shore. ❜ A warmer smile stretches on his features after replying in kind (a habit he may well fall into in Inazuma too if left unchecked) and for a moment Heizou contemplates opening his mouth again, to either talk about his trip or to inquire about where his accommodations are this time around, or perhaps even to invite Cyno for lunch.

However, the unexpected birthday wish that leaves Cyno's mouth next knocks the air out of Heizou's lungs, his cheerful persona breaking apart for a fleeting moment while his smile subconsciously wavers and his eyes widen in response. There are many emotions swirling through him all at once (shock, confusion, disbelief), plenty of which must have made their way onto the surface as well, and even though verdants manage to glance down at the gift and understand that he isn't imagining it, the redhead remains at a loss (for words, and for what to think of any of this). ❛ ......You... ❜ -knew? ❛ I... ❜ -don't believe I've ever told you when my birthday is.

The lack of cohesion in any of his attempts to speak prompts Heizou to not speak at all, the temporary silence growing fairly awkward while he works on gluing himself back together into a more presentable self. It's with great effort that he manages to smile brightly again (although this time around it tethers on the falser side than the genuine one he'd worn before), brushing off his initial reaction to the gift as simply being shocked by the surprise rather than owning a deep distaste for his birthday & a heavy unfamiliarity to being thought of in such a manner.

How is he meant to readily accept this as reality when no one else has ever put nearly as much effort into celebrating his birthday in all the years he can remember? ❛ You sure know how to leave a man speechless, Cyno. ❜ A laugh, practiced enough to not sound as broken as he feels, and Heizou gracefully extends a hand to welcome and accept the gift. ❛ Do you mind if I open it now, or should I leave it for later? ❜ His tone is upbeat, a stark contrast to the brief accident from moments prior.

Ever so slowly, curiosity peeks its way onto the fray, driving the detective to want to know what gift the other could've spent his resources on with him in mind - though truth be told, Heizou considers himself unable to be disappointed even if nothing but a single coupon lies inside the envelope (the thought alone... the endeavor of finding out when his birthday is in spite of his never mentioning it... the act of gifting him something, anything - that is more than enough for him to forever be grateful to Cyno for).

Heizou's gaze is attentive to every detail on Cyno's face as he waits for an affirmation or a denial to his subtle request (not wishing to impose - especially not now after forcing his friend to watch the sorry sight that constituted his initial reaction to a gift even existing in the first place) and only once he receives the okay for it does he deftly open the envelope, eyes carefully reading the words written on the license he finds inside.

For a second time, Heizou's eyes widen as he forgos the act of breathing entirely, certain that he must be reading something wrong, or failing to pick up on something between the lines. More conscientiously than before, he blinks and rereads it from the top to the bottom, diligently making sure not to gloss over a single word - and yet the result is the same as it had been the first time. The "detective license" words seem to stare back at him alongside the nation the license has been issued by & for, and this is one of the few times in his life that Heizou can attest to an out of body sensation (the first one ever when the occasion that prompted it is happy rather than tragic). "Shikanoin Heizou"... a detective license meant for him, in a nation that he has done little to deserve something this grand? Not to mention how hard it is to obtain one even after proving one's worth---

Inhaling just enough air to keep his body from ceasing to function, Heizou's gaze lifts to stare into Cyno's eyes in a silent query, a plea to tell him now if he's misunderstanding something or interpreting this poorly, but no such negative answer comes, and the reality of it all suddenly hits Heizou akin to a wave hitting a capsizing ship in a stormy night. But this is no stormy night, it's the brightest day he can recall on ever having; and this is no drowning feeling as much as it is the feeling of finally breathing again after having previously been submerged. He opens his mouth to say something - a thank you to express his gratitude, a question from the myriad that are circling in his mind, an anything that might escape him in reply really, but a salty taste finds itself on his tongue, and only after glancing down at the odd drop of water on the license does Heizou realize he's crying.

A low gasp accompanies his realization and the redhead has half a mind to wipe his tears on the back of his hand and try to regain his composure before thanking & reassuring Cyno that these are happy tears rather than sad ones, but instead he glances at his friend again, and the worried expression he's met with only warms his heart further, softening and making it beat even faster than before (to think that Cyno is worrying about him now... even though he's been nothing but a rude mess in the face of a heartfelt gift the other must've been through hellish trials to obtain... it feels almost wrong of him to be as happy about it as he is).

Perhaps he should follow his usual, trusty logic, but the overflow of emotions has even Teyvat's best detective beat - and Heizou can't stop himself from almost jumping into Cyno's arms, tightly embracing him in an attempt to convey how he feels in a way that words could never manage. ��� Thank you, Cyno... really... I love it. ❜ Is all he manages to shakily let out against Cyno's skin amid the tears (and he'll have to apologize for those too, once he'll catch his breath) but the soft giggle that follows and the grip he has on the other (which spares not even the air that could've separated their bodies) speak enough about Heizou's mood on their own that they'll hopefully ease the anxious tension his friend must feel by even a bit.

The port is generally busy enough to not warrant just anyone a glance, but this particular sight might be an exception to the unspoken rule - after all, when would anyone ever be able to say they've seen someone (a foreigner, no less) happily embracing the General Mahamatra himself, and being met with no punishment for it, ever again? For once, though, Heizou doesn't care to pay potential bystanders any mind, instead focusing every bit of his attention onto the calming scent of Cyno's hair and the coming to terms he has to do with his newfound circumstances.

❛ You really outdid yourself... ❜ A soft whisper, only for the two of them to hear, much like the rest of Heizou's words. ❛ How did you know it's my birthday today...? And how- how did you manage to issue a detective license for me? I know what I went through to get one back in Inazuma, and that's the place I was born... so I know it couldn't have been easy for you to obtain it... ❜ An acknowledgement Cyno most definitely deserves for everything he's done, and although Heizou has managed to somewhat comprehend this situation, he still cannot believe anyone would go this far for him (of their own volition too).

And for his birthday no less, the one day that has given him more anxiety over the years than even the worst of the cases he's worked on. What a deeply ironic thing, to watch the day he's disliked the most now prove to also be his happiest... His heart steadily tempers as he slightly shifts his head to rest his cheek on Cyno's shoulder, making no move to put distance between them (though allowing Cyno to easily do so if desired), and Heizou glances up at the other with a small, authentic smile, awaiting an answer while remaining partly deep in his own thoughts.

Come to think of it... this is the first honest gift he's received that has even a smidgen to do with his own interests rather than the giver's... isn't it?

[artificialfanfiction]

Strings of Fate – III

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Disclaimer: The content on this blog is entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes. None of the scenarios depicted here are based on real-life occurrences. Enjoy the stories and let your imagination run wild!

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pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

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The days following their session were filled with a different kind of anticipation for Y/N. She replayed every moment in her mind, from the way Noah’s voice had softened when he spoke to her, to the thrill of hearing their voices harmonize on the track. It was more than just making music it was the start of something deeper, something she could barely put into words.

When the track arrived in her inbox a few days later, she hesitated for a moment before pressing play. The first notes filled her small apartment, rich and layered, and then her own voice joined in, blending seamlessly with Noah’s. It was a surreal experience hearing herself in a way she never had before, polished and professional, but still raw with emotion.

She listened to the song over and over, marveling at how natural it felt, how their voices seemed to weave together like they were always meant to. It was as if the music had a life of its own, something that neither of them could control but only guide. 

Noah’s message came later that evening. 

“The track sounds incredible. I think it’s ready. How do you feel about it?”

She smiled, her heart fluttering as she typed back. “I love it. It feels like it’s part of me now.”

His response was immediate. “I knew it would. I’m planning to release it as a single, but I wanted to talk to you first. I want you to be credited fully. This is our song, Y/N.”

Her breath caught. “You really mean that? I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes. Let’s make this official.”

The days that followed were a whirlwind of excitement and disbelief. Y/N had never imagined herself in the world of professional music, yet here she was, collaborating with Noah Sebastian on a track that would soon be released to the world. They finalized the details over a few more calls, each one leaving her more energized and more connected to him.

The single, titled “Waking Shadows”, was released a week later. The buzz it generated was immediate. Fans of Bad Omens were eager to hear Noah’s new work, and the inclusion of a mysterious new vocalist only added to the intrigue. Social media was abuzz with speculation about who this new voice belonged to, but neither Noah nor Y/N revealed anything, letting the music speak for itself.

The first time Y/N heard their song on the radio, she nearly cried. It wasn’t just about the music, it was about everything that had led to this moment, the connection she felt with Noah, and the fact that, for the first time, she was being recognized for something she had always dreamed of doing.

As the weeks passed, the single continued to gain momentum. Reviews poured in, praising the haunting melody and the seamless blend of their voices. Y/N found herself being contacted by music blogs and fans, all wanting to know more about the woman behind the voice. It was overwhelming, but Noah was there to guide her, offering advice and support as she navigated this new world.

One evening, after a particularly long day of interviews and calls, Y/N received a message from Noah that made her heart skip a beat.

“We should celebrate. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

They met at a small, intimate bar that Noah had chosen far from the typical celebrity hotspots. It was quiet, with dim lighting and a cozy atmosphere that felt more like a hidden gem than a place where a rockstar would hang out. 

When Y/N arrived, Noah was already there, seated at a corner table. He looked different outside of his usual environment more relaxed, but still carrying that magnetic presence that drew people in.

“Hey,” he greeted her with that familiar smile as she approached. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” she replied, feeling a flutter in her stomach as she sat down across from him. “This place is amazing. How did you find it?”

“A friend of mine owns it,” Noah said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s one of those places you only hear about if you know the right people.”

“I’m glad you brought me here,” she said, glancing around. “It feels…special.”

“It is,” he said, his gaze steady on hers. “Just like this moment. We’ve accomplished something incredible, Y/N. I’m really proud of what we’ve done.”

His words sent a warm thrill through her. “I never thought I’d be here, doing this with you. It still feels like a dream.”

“It’s real,” Noah said, his voice soft. “And it’s just the beginning. I’ve been thinking…what if we worked on more music together? Maybe even an entire album?”

The proposal took her by surprise, though she had secretly hoped for it. “An album? You really want that?”

“I do,” Noah said, his expression sincere. “There’s something between us, Y/N. A synergy. The way we create together, it’s like we’re tapping into something bigger than both of us. I don’t want this to be just a one time thing.”

Y/N’s heart raced. The idea of making an entire album with Noah was beyond anything she could have imagined. But there was something else, too something that had been building between them since that first night, and it wasn’t just about the music.

“I’d love to,” she said, her voice steady even though her emotions were swirling inside her. “I’ve never felt this way about creating before. It’s like the music takes over, and everything else just fades away.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Noah said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locked on hers. “And it’s not just the music, Y/N. I think you know that.”

The air between them grew thick with unspoken words, the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface finally coming to a head. Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she met his gaze.

“I do,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve felt it too.”

A slow smile spread across Noah’s face, and he reached across the table, taking her hand in his. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it,” he admitted, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “But I can’t anymore. There’s something here, Y/N something that goes beyond the music.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind racing. This was what she had wanted, what she had been too afraid to admit even to herself. But now that it was out in the open, the possibility of what could be was both thrilling and terrifying.

“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice trembling with anticipation.

“We see where this goes,” Noah said, his voice steady and sure. “No expectations, no pressure. Just…us.”

She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I’d like that.”

They sat there for a long moment, their hands intertwined, the world outside the bar fading away. For the first time, they allowed themselves to fully acknowledge the connection that had been growing between them one that was rooted in music, but blossoming into something much more.

As the night wore on, they talked about everything and nothing about their pasts, their dreams, and their hopes for the future. Noah shared stories from the road, tales of life as a rockstar that were both wild and surprisingly down-to-earth. Y/N found herself laughing more than she had in a long time, her earlier nerves dissolving in the warmth of his presence.

By the time they left the bar, it was late, and the city was quiet. They walked side by side, the cool night air brushing against their skin. When they reached her apartment building, Noah stopped, turning to face her.

“This is where I say goodnight,” he said softly, though he didn’t seem eager to leave.

“Goodnight,” she replied, her voice just as soft, but filled with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

But neither of them moved, the space between them charged with the electricity of all that had been left unsaid.

Finally, Noah stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “Y/N…”

Her heart raced, and before she could overthink it, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if they were both testing the waters. But it quickly deepened, fueled by the passion and connection that had been building between them all this time.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath.

“That was…” Noah began, his voice a little shaky.

“Incredible,” Y/N finished for him, her lips curving into a smile.

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Yeah, it was.”

They stood there for a moment longer, soaking in the reality of what had just happened. When Noah finally pulled away, he did so reluctantly, his hand lingering in hers.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice full of promise.

“Goodnight, Noah,” she replied, her heart full.

As he walked away, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. This was more than just the start of a musical collaboration it was the beginning of something beautiful, something that could only grow from here.

And for the first time in a long time, she was excited to see what the future held.

[xthewhiteravenx]

TRAP HOUSE AU [movies & tv shows] – The Old Guard

It started the moment a bullet ripped through Xepher’s chest, her heart coming to a stop. 

The world around her faded as she succumbed to death's embrace. According to the EMTs, she had been clinically dead for a full six minutes before she came back to life. However, within those six minutes, Xepher found herself in a realm that existed beyond the confines of the ambulance.

"SAM!" The name echoed through her consciousness as she turned her head.

"COLBY!" Another name reverberated, distant yet unmistakable.

In an instant, her surroundings were bathed in a vibrant orange glow. She stood within an expansive desert, where scorching winds whipped up columns of sand. Confusion gripped her as she grappled to make sense of this surreal landscape. A glance downward revealed attire she didn't recognize—strange, advanced combat gear unlike anything she had ever seen.

Across the desert expanse, two figures emerged. Sam Golbach and Colby Brock were running toward her, the very individuals whose names had resounded in her mind earlier. Their expressions held a mixture of astonishment and familiarity, mirroring the complex emotions within her.

"Xepher, this is real. You're seeing what we're seeing," Sam's voice carried hope tinged with certainty. "It's happening, even though it feels unreal."

Colby reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, “You need to calm down, Xepher. We will find you.”

Xepher nodded, her thoughts racing. "I was shot. I should be... I should be dead, Colby."

The intensity of the orange light intensified, casting long shadows upon the sandy terrain. As they exchanged puzzled glances, a distant rumble filled the air, growing steadily louder. Something was approaching.

A colossal sandstorm emerged on the horizon, a swirling maelstrom of chaos and devastation. The ground quaked beneath their feet as the tempest consumed everything in its path. Xepher's instincts kicked in. "We need cover—now!"

Together, they sprinted toward a cluster of rocky formations that promised some refuge. The sandstorm closed in, visibility reduced to near-zero. Huddled behind the rocks, they clung to each other as the tempest raged, a force of nature unlike any they'd encountered.

Amidst the heart of the storm, Xepher's mind was bombarded by a montage of images—centuries of battles, faces of comrades lost to time, and the sensation of never truly meeting the end. She realized that her return from death was no ordinary occurrence; it was something profound, linking her, Sam, and Colby across the tapestry of time.

In a vision that felt both real and distant, Xepher found herself amidst the opulence of the Italian Renaissance. The scene unfolded like a memory, or perhaps a dream. She watched as Sam Golbach and Colby Brock appeared in an elegant garden, under the gentle light of the setting sun. Sam's voice held a fondness that transcended time.

"Colby, you have an uncanny way of capturing beauty that rivals the finest artists."

Colby's smile held a touch of mischief as he leaned in closer. Their tunics mixed till Xepher was unsure who belonged to who, "Only because I have the most inspiring subject."

Their hands found each other, fingers intertwining with a familiarity that suggested an intimacy borne of more than just companionship. The unspoken connection between them was palpable, charged with an underlying depth that hinted at a romantic relationship.

As the sandstorm gradually abated, Xepher returned to her mind and the environment transformed once more. The vibrant orange light dimmed, revealing their original surroundings—the interior of the ambulance. The rhythmic beeping of medical instruments filled the air, and Xepher blinked in disbelief.

Even though Sam and Colby were not with her, Xepher could feel their presence along with many more who felt like echoing's across other life times. While she could parse out her short life, theirs were longer and so deeply entwined that they might as well have been hers as well. She shared a profound realization with her self, mumbling, "We're connected, across time and space."

The EMTs worked urgently, unaware of the cosmic odyssey Xepher had just undertaken. As her vision blurred and darkness beckoned, one thought remained resolute: they were part of an ancient and extraordinary narrative, one that transcended mortality.

Colby's voice, soft yet resolute, broke through the haze. "Welcome to the Old Guard, Xepher."

[meandcring]

CHARACTER INTRODUCTION !

name : joanne halima scott

alias/nickname(s) : joanie, jo

age : 24

date of birth : 27th of august 1962

hometown : east london, england

location : here and there ( mostly london )

gender : cis female

pronounds : she / her

orientation : biromantic / - sexual

occupation : helping hand at ' niamh's records ' , camden ( / space & time traveller )

BIOGRAPHY !

Joanne  Halima  Scott,  fondly  known  as  Joanie,  grew  up  in  east london,  raised  by  a  distant  aunt  and  uncle  following  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  her  parents  in  the  late  '60s.  Working  as  a  helping  hand  at  Niamh's  Records  in  Camden  in  1986,  Joanie's  eclectic  style  and  ambiverted  nature  concealed  a  deep-seated  feeling  that  something  extraordinary  awaited  her.

Joanie's  extraordinary  journey  began  at  the  age  of  14,  during  a  transformative  summer  spent  in  Liverpool  with  Auntie  Siobhan  (  a  friend  of  her  aunt  and  uncle's,  no  familial  relation  whatsoever  )  in  1976.  Siobhan's  beauty  salon  became  the  backdrop  for  Joanie's  initiation  into  the  world  of  time  slips.  Siobhan  had  a  flat  right  above  the  salon.  Sometimes  at  night  Joanie  would  wake  up  with  the  sudden  urge  to  go  to  her  window  :  from  there,  she  was  able  to  see  a  corner  of  Bold  Street,  and  every  night  at  around  the  same  time,  she'd  look  out  to  see  that  little  corner  suddenly  transformed.  Joanie  witnessed  the  street  transforming  into  bygone  eras—a  surreal  spectacle  of  20s  cars,  Edwardian  figures,  and  horse-drawn  carriages. 

What  began  as  seemingly  ' vivid  dreams '  took  a  tangible  turn  when  Joanie,  on  a  quest  for  magazines,  stumbled  into  a  time  slip,  finding  herself  in  April  1912.  Clutching  a  newspaper  declaring  the  sinking  of  the  Titanic,  the  weight  of  her  newfound  ability  became  palpable.  Time  slips,  once  sporadic,  evolved  into  a  regular  occurrence,  whisking  her  away  to  various  historical  eras.

She  tested  it  out,  happy  to  run  errands  for  siobhan  that  sent  her  to  bold  street,  slipping  through  many  decades.  Sometimes  it'd  be  a  slip  only  a  couple  years  back,  and  she  would  hardly  notice  it.  Sometimes  she'd  walk  out  of  a  shop  right  into  the  1890s.  In  time,  the  time  slips  became  longer  and  people  began  to  notice  her  more  and  more.  On  one  occasion,  she  had  to  run  from  a  police  officer  in  1880,  for  being  inappropriately  dressed.  When  the  summer  was  over  and  Joanie  went  back  to  London,  she  thought  she'd  left  the  era  of  time  slips  behind.

Sure  enough,  a  couple  years  went  by,  and  she'd  almost  jotted  it  down  to  over-active  imagination.  But  when  she  went  to  visit  Siobhan  again  for  a  few  weeks,  it  all  happened  anew.  Only  now  Joanie  was  older,  more  experienced.  Knew  when  to  hide  in  the  shadow,  waiting  for  it  to  pass,  and  when  to  engage.  At  the  end  of  the  summer,  that's  when  it  happened  :

The  intricacies  of  Joanie's  encounters  deepened.  Joanie  was  18,  had  slipped  back  to  1928,  strolling  down  the  street  back  to  Siobhan's  salon  when  someone  stopped  dead  in  their  tracks  :  a  curious  figure,  dressed  in  modern-ish  clothes.  With  narrowed  eyes  they  pulled  her  aside  :  'you're  not  supposed  to  be  here,  are  you ? '  -  shattering  her  belief  that  she  was  the  sole  possessor  of  this  unique  ability.  She  avoided  Bold  Street  for  the  rest  of  the  summer.  This  encounter  left  her  cautious,  a  lingering  tension  that  persisted  upon  her  return  to  London.

Coming  back  to  london,  she  thought  she  was  safe.  Even  if  the  person  did  haunt  her  in  her  dreams.  After  all,  those  time  slips  only  happened  in  Liverpool,  right  ?

She's  rushing  to  catch  the  tube,  late  again  for  a  catch-up  she's  reschedulded  three  times  with  her  old  mate  Jackie  from  school  when  it  happens.  Waterloo  station,  2  pm.  Flying  down  the  stairs,  she  rounds  the  corner  and  suddenly  -  there's  no  tube  in  sight.  She  holds  onto  the  handrail  as  the  ground  beneath  her  shakes.  There  are  people  sitting  on  the  tracks,  children  playing  -  she's  about  to  say  something  when  she  notices  the  big  poster.  'Keep  calm  and  carry  on'.  Above  it  a  makeshift  banner:  'air  raid  shelter'.

Her  stomach  drops.  People  try  to  hold  her  back  but  she  pushes  past  them,  out  of  the  shelter.  To  her  horror,  she's  not  back  in  her  own  time  -  streets  are  filled  with  smoke,  it's  eerily  dark,  not  even  the  street  lights  are  on.  She  figures  if  she  just  keeps  on  walking,  she'll  be  back  in  her  own  time.  Like  Bold  Street.

She  walks  and  walks  and  walks  until,  around  a  corner,  she  spots  a  source  of  light  :  a  big,  blue  police  box,  like  the  one  her  uncle  had  once  knocked  on  to  report  a  school  boy  stealing  a  bottle  of  chocolate  milk  from  a  kiosk.  Nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  really  :  if  it  wasn't  for  that  damned  light.  But  maybe  someone  is  inside,  who  could  at  least  tell  her  where  she  is  :  she  decides  to  knock,  but  just  as  she  thinks  someone  might  open  the  door,   Prince's  'When  Doves  Cry'  has  her  wip  around.  And  she's  back  in  1984.  No  police  box  in  sight.  No  air  raid  shelter.

It  happens  frequently  from  then  on,  she  can  feel  it  coming,  a  little   hint  of  nausea.  If  she  concentrates  really,  really  hard,  she  can  stop  it,  sometimes.  And  every  once  in  a  while  during  a  time  slip,  she'll  see  that  blue  police  box.  Another  mystery  to  solve.

[onlyseokmins]

this sleepover concept is so cute, I just have to get in on it! can I ask two questions? if so I hope I'm not repeating anything 😅

You seem very proper adult on here, so I wanted to ask a little advice. I am recently living on my own for the first time since college, and I have nothing to be scared about because I'm responsible and good with money but it still feels so surreal? Like this place cannot possibly just be my own, and I don't have to answer to anyone, it's wild. I guess it makes more sense if I say I just left a very sour relationship, but does it always feel like this, the overwhelming feeling of freedom? Sometimes it's a little scary 😅

Also for the spicy crowd, I did want to ask your opinion on who is mtl likely to actively engage in cockwarming? I don't think i saw this question yet, correct me if I'm wrong!

Suuuuuper happy for you on this milestone babe, please keep up the good work but only when you have time and energy 💙

Ty for dropping by nonny and tysm for thinking I'm a proper adult lmao what an honor! *kicks all my bad choices and decisions under my bed* 💀 I also so appreciate your kind words 💜

No but in all seriousness - congratulations! That is truly not a small feat and it definitely can be overwhelming. I still live at home bc of it so I really admire you, I think that kind of feeling is v understandable but just know that you definitely deserve your freedom. You've also earned it! I'm sorry to hear about your past relationship, but I also want to applaud you for recognizing your limitations and responsibilities. I think that's already going to propel you so far on this new venture so I encourage you to embrace and enjoy your newfound freedom!

It'll be scary but before you know it - it'll feel as natural as breathing ❤️ in the mean time, don't forget to lean on any trusted and loved ones on your life when needed!

Ooh! As for the spicy part hehe 🤭

Most

Wonwoo - 100% into it and always doing it. it's convenient and sexci and they can do two things at once. work/game/rest/sleep while being wrapped in your warmth. this can go on for hours and will satisfy you immensely with its intimacy or drive you crazy while teasing the brink of pleasure for so long

Vernon

Jihoon

Mingyu

Seungcheol

Jeonghan

Seungkwan - neutral about it: may use it as a punishment or for comfort but it's a rare occurrence if it does happen and you can figure it'll be a different kind of experience whenever you do it with them

Joshua

Junhui

Seokmin

Minghao

Soonyoung

Chan - impatient. will do it however it does not last long at all. they get too worked up slipping inside you, they just *have* to start thrusting like crazy. or they're just not into it. if their dick is inside of you, it has to be moving and stroking your inner walls at all the right angles.

Least

💤 Sleepover Weekend