#moonlit wandering through the fields

[my-deer-history]

Francis Kinloch in Müller's letters to his family: Part 3

These extracts are from Johannes von Müller: Sämmtliche Werke, volume 7 (1810).

My translations here, original German transcriptions below the cut. Müller and Kinloch have set off on their tour of Switzerland!

21 Aug 1775, to his brother

From there a narrow, steep path leads between sheer drops and vertical mountains into the Weissenburg hot spring, travelled only by pedestrians. Imagine the most terrible rock faces, with water rushing down and partially breaking up into dust and mist; between these rocks, a forest river flows noisily over rocky ground, over trees that water and wind had torn away from the slopes, and the rubble from the mountains that had broken them loose and thrown them down. A strong servant from the baths carried Mr. Kinloch and me on his back through this river to the healing spring.

21 Sept 1775, to his father

We drove in a Bernese carriage through Freyburg to Affry Castle, where the awful roads necessitated us to send the carriage home. After 2 hours, we came to Cicogne, where with some effort, we managed to interpret out of the patois of the people that we had taken the wrong road. An old farmer’s wife led us back on track through the muck by moonlight. Beyond the Saanen the path became entirely too difficult. There we rented a miller’s cart. Imagine: our suitcases, me and our dog on this cart, Mr. Kinloch beside us, the servant with a pack on our horse.

[...]

On sunday, Mr Boissier arranged a ball for the whole town in our honour, where everyone had to dance - the farmers and their wives and all sons and daughters, and Mrs Boissiere, and Mr von Castela and Mr Kinloch and even Mr Boissier himself - though he is lame - and even I - though I cannot dance very well. This day I translated an Italian opera into French. I forgot to mention the letters that we received at Berne, Mr K one from America, I one from England from Mr Thomas Boone

Undated, 1775, to his brother

My dear brother! I cannot describe my contentment to you enough. [...] I am loved, and friendship is the joy of my life. My Englishmen, my American,* Bonstetten, Tronchin, Bonnet!

*Kinloch

20 March 1776

At the moment, Kinloch and I are reading Tacitus for the second time (me, for the third) [...] Mr Bonnet is giving us 2–3 lectures a week on psychology. But don’t imagine him as an ordinary professor, he does not allow himself to be paid except in the attention and friendship of his audience, and these are only two, Kinloch and me. We go to him at 4pm, his psychology lesson starts at 5 or 6, and we stay until 11.

June 1776, to his brother

Letters from England have convinced Mr Kinloch to move his planned journey forward to the autumn.

21 Aug 1775, to his brother

Von da führt ein schmaler abhängiger Weg zwischen Abgründen und senkrechten Bergen in das warme Bad Weissenburg, niemanden als Fußgänger. Stelle dir die schrecklichsten Felswände vor, mit Wassern, welche da herunter stürzen und sich zum Theil in Staub und Nebel auflösen; zwischen diesen Felsen wälzt sich mit großem Geräusch ein Waldwasser über einen felsigen Grund, über Bäume, welche Wasser und Wind ab den Gebürgen gerissen und Trümmern von Bergen, welche sie abgelöset und herabgewälzt hatten. Durch dieses Wasser trug Hrn. Kinloch und mich ein starker Badknecht auf dem Rücken zu der heilsamen Quelle. 

21 Sept 1775, to his father

In einer Bernerkutsche fuhren wir über Freyburg nach dem Schloß Affry, woselbst die schlimmen Straßen uns nöthigten, die Kutsche heimzusenden. Nach 2 Stunden kamen wir auf Cicogne, wo wir mit Mühe aus dem Patois des Volks erdollmetschen konnten, daß wir den unrechten Weg eingeschlagen. Eine alte Bauersfrau führte uns durch den Koth beim Mondschein zurechte. Jenseits der Saanen wurde nun der Weg allzu arg. Daselbst mietheten wir einen Müllers - Karren. Stellet Euch vor, unsre Mantelsäcke mich und unsern Hund auf diesem Wagen, Hr. Kinloch neben her, den Bedienten mit einem Pack auf unserm Pferd.

[...]

Am Sonntag gab Hr. Boissier unsertwegen dem ganzen Dorf einen Ball, wo alle Bauren und Bäurinnen und alle Knaben und Töchtern, und Mad. Boissiere, und der Hr. von Castela und Hr. Kinloch, und Hr. Boissier selbst, ob er wohl estropirt ist, und selbst ich, ob ich gleich nicht wohl tanzen kann, tanzen mußte. Diesen Tag übersetzte ich eine italiänische Opera ins Französische. Ich habe vergessen, der Briefe zu gedenken, welche wir zu Bern erhalten, Hr. K. einen aus Amerika; ich einen aus England von Herrn Thomas Boone

Undated, 1775, to his brother

Mein lieber Bruder! Ich kann dir mein Wohlbefinden nicht genug beschreiben. [...] Man liebt mich, und die Freundschaft ist meines Lebens Lust. Meine Engländer, mein Amerikaner, Bonstetten, Tronchin, Bonnet!

20 March 1776

Gegenwärtig lesen Kinloch und ich zum andern (ich, zum dritten) Mal den Tacitus [...] Herr Bonnet giebt uns wöchentlich 2–3 Lectionen über die Psychologie. Stelle ihn dir aber nicht als einen gewöhnlichen Professor vor, er läßt sich nicht anders bezahlen, als durch die Aufmerksamkeit und Freundschaft seiner Zuhörer, und dieser sind nur zwei, Kinloch und ich. Wir gehen um 4 Uhr zu ihn, um 5 oder 6 fängt er seine psychologische Stunde an, und wir bleiben bis um 11 Uhr

June 1776, to his brother

Briefe aus England haben Hrn. Kinloch bestimmt, seine vorgehabte Reise auf den Herbst zu verschieben.

#francis kinloch #johannes von müller #karl viktor von bonstetten #18th century history #queer history #these extracts have it all #moonlit wandering through the fields #carried across a river by a hunky fella #dog!!! #presumably the small lapdog variety if it's riding in the cart #country ball where even poor müller is forced onto the dancefloor

[starhvney]

would it be possible to ask for a laurance x reader where they share a romantic date stargazing? mcd preferably!

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you hadn’t been able to see much of laurance since he had taken on more night shifts for guard duty. you both missed each other's company, so he promised to come get you after his shift to spend a night with you. 

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, it's established you and laurance are lovers (canon), headcanon lore on laurance and ungrth? constellations based on mcd lore

𝐂𝐖: none

𝐀/𝐍: idk how i feel about how i wrote this one, hopefully you still like it! idk i love the prompt but i feel like my brain was scattered writing it (also guys writing kiss scenes is hard btw)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

you had been anticipating seeing him all day, barely able to contain yourself once he came into view. sleepy eyes light up when his gaze lands on yours. 

“darling, it’s too cold out here,” he sighs, his steps quickening when he realizes you’re standing outside of your doorway. “you’ll get sick.”

your hands wrapped around your arms, the thin dress you wore not enough to shield you from the chilled night air of phoenix drop. quickly, he unclasped his cape from his armor, draping the thick material around your shoulders. 

“i’m fine.” you insist, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his broad, armor-clad shoulders. “besides… i couldn’t wait to see you.”

he sighs again, weakly giving in to your argument as he leaned in and buried his nose in your hair. 

“i’ll change first, and then we’ll go.”

he takes your arm in his as the two of you walk to his home, letting him change out of his clunky armor into a soft linen shirt and pants. before you could turn for the door, he grasps out onto your arm, pulling you forward and securing a thick cloak around your shoulders. after he deemed he had fused enough over your warmth and comfort, he places a fleeting kiss to your forehead. soon enough the both of you are walking side by side through the moonlit streets, hands laced together.

he had told you he had a spot in mind, a place he had gone to a few times before to clear his head. as you passed through the front gates laurance pulled you closer to him and scanned along the tree line, something that was probably an instinctual habit as a guard. his hand gently held your own, securing you against him when you passed over ditches and roots along the forest floor.

for now, the two of you didn’t say anything, only listening to the faint bristling of the breeze through the tree leaves, the soft footfalls of your steps, and the distant noise of night critters. finally, the two of you come upon a clearing, the trees breaking their cover from the moon and revealing the clear, constellation-filled sky.

soft white light reflected down onto the grass and beautiful white flowers that sprouted around the small field. laurance doesn’t release your hand, his rough hand engulfing yours as he guides you to the center of the clearing. you both lay back into the soft flora beneath you, gazing up at the twinkling lights above. 

“i used to do this back in meteli.”

you lightly hum in response, squeezing his hand.

“when i was a kid, too. it’s how i met ungrth.” you look over to see him staring up at the stars with a wistful look on his face. “i stupidly wandered too far one night and got lost. i was upset at something that happened at the orphanage.”

“good thing you met him.”

“yeah,” he lets out a quiet chuckle. “if i had entered the territory of another wyvern, it wouldn’t have ended so well. a scrawny kid like me would’ve been easy pickings.”

“he used to point out constellations,” he continued, leaning closer to you as his free hand points up to a string of stars. “that’s the matron, see how it looks like a praying maiden?”

you nod. “was it named after irene?”

he nods, looking at you briefly with a small smile before he shifts his hand over to the left.

“that one over there is the protector, it looks like a knight with his shield. and above it is the wanderer.”

you watch him trace out different constellations, both ones that he was taught and others he has made up for fun as a child.

“it’s beautiful.” you breathe.

“yeah.” laurance softly replies.

you turn to see his gaze already fixed on you, gray-blue irises darting around the features on your face. he lifts his rough and scarred hand—proof of his hard training with no gloves—and brushes away loose strands of hair that have fallen in front of your face.

blood rushes to the surface of your skin, heating your cheeks as his fingers tenderly brush against the side of your face and trail down to your jaw. his thumb lightly traces over your lips, his eyelids heavy.

“the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

he gets up on his elbow, body shifting to lean over you. your eyes flutter shut as his lips ghost yours, breath stuttering in anticipation.

you wait a moment. then another.

“may i?” he whispers.

you grab the sides of his face with your hands, patience running out as you tug him down against you. slightly chapped lips clash into yours, not hesitating for a moment as they quickly mold against the shape of your own. he continues to gently caress your face, his touch stealing your breath away as his fingers trail down to your waist. his hand slides underneath you and lifts you closer to him, as if he couldn’t stand having any distance between the two of you. 

“beautiful.” he whispered.

the kiss breaks, allowing you to finally catch your breath. his forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling as he leans down to steal another chaste kiss.

slowly, he parts from you, looking down at you as he rests on his elbows. his eyes drift to something above your head, and he reaches out to pluck it from the ground. one of the clearing’s white flowers comes into view, as he spins the stern in his fingers, observing the soft petals closely.

“all of the stars in the sky and any flower i pick couldn’t compare.” he whispers, tucking the sweet-smelling blossom behind your ear.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

#aphmau #aphmau mcd #mcd x reader #x reader #mcd laurance x reader #laurance x reader #mcd laurance #aphmau minecraft diaries #minecraft diaries

[tacticalhimbo]

Howdy hey @pheedraws , I'm your bloody valentine for this year's event held by @carlosoliveiraa !!

I had a really fun time learning about Ilona and her tense history with the rest of the family, but especially that with Heisenberg. I hope I managed to capture their push-and-pull kinda dynamic, and I hope you enjoy this! <3

Let me know if you'd like a more permanent copy of this, too! I'm always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Under the cut for length! (this ended up being almost 2k words hehe)

The coldest of the winter months had finally approached, thickened blankets of snow encapsulating the quaint village and its surrounding wilderness. Winds howled through the distant trees, sinking low into the narrow pathways between buildings, carrying a flurry of snow with it. Crystalline sculptures shimmered in the sun's overcast light as they fell, drawing attention to the way they'd gathered in a nearly blinding landscape. Dark stonework was accentuated by the vibrant snow, just as the flourishing pine needles were. Gnawing as the chill that lingered in the air was, there was, too, an odd comfort to its overwhelming presence. A comfort that, as the sun eventually began to settle behind the horizon and the village began to grow quiet, encouraged a few intriguing residents to take in the stillness of it all. To wander through the sparse lantern glows and out into the moonlit wilderness, abandoning the set paths for something more organic; less explored. Distant lycan howls set the boundary for it all, warnings of what may happen if one were to straggle too far away from the epicenter.

Yet even that comfort did not explain how, or why, Ilona found herself in the fields adjacent to the run-down, albeit functioning, factory on the village's outskirts.

There was no comfort in the metallic whirs and groans. No comfort in the prospect that, should fate decide to be a particularly cruel mistress, Ilona run into the factory's owner—or one of his creations. It was still up for debate which would have been worse, frankly. The hostility of the mechanical beings was simple in its nature. Programming kicking in as rusted mechanisms sputtered to life. A mere reflection of their created purpose: Defense. Lord Heisenberg's hostilities, on the other hand, were bred of arrogance. Full of malcontent. It was intentionally designed to get under the skin of whatever poor soul ended up on the other side of that wolfish grin. Yet that, too, proposed another discussion of whether it would have been better to be maimed physically, or walk away with a wounded ego. Regardless, the answer was lost as well-placed speakers crackled to life. As that grating, smug voice rang out across the field.

"Well well, what do we have here? A late night visitor, all the way from her mighty home in the comforts of the village. And what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dark eyes narrowed. "You don't. I was just leaving."

"Is that so? I don't know, might be dangerous to head back so late. Heard there's lycans about." The fact was spoken as if it were a rumor, words shadowed by a low purr resonating from the man's chest as he teased. It earned nothing more than a scoff and the roll of the woman's eyes, back turning to the building as she began to make her way down the field.

That was, until a series of rustling in the treeline created a pause. Brought Ilona to a stop as her annoyance only grew. There was no proof of it, and it was something so unlikely to consider, yet she couldn't help but clench her jaw at the prospect that—by some account—Karl had set something up to lure them. Or was it so simply as him setting up his fancy little radio, and daring to open that mouth of his? Whatever it was, two paths lay before her: Take her chances and throw herself to the 'wolves', or begrudgingly wait out the pack's hunt in that cursed factory. While the first option was infinitely more tempting, there was a weariness beginning to weigh on her shoulders. The biting cold that began to properly creep under the layers of cloth and tug at her skin; it was enough for her to begrudgingly turn herself back up the path. And hearing the static of the speakers was enough for Ilona to almost consider turning back once more. Instead, she simply glared to the closest one, sat upon the corner of the decrepit brick.

"Don't even. Just shut up and open the door already."

And, as instructed, the rustled mechanisms groaned as the factory's doors slid open, allowing the warm air from within to bleed out across the shrinking distance. Allow the whines and creaks to overwhelm the immediate landscape alongside it, subtly encouraging a quickness in the woman's steps. The lycans had heard it, too. Paused their consumptions to perk their heads toward the sound, feral eyes fixated in wait. Yet no meal came to them, and they'd simply returned to the chilled leftover at their claws' end as Ilona found herself walking right into the hands of her…

Adversary? Acquaintance? Whatever it was Heisenberg was today. And, based on the way he'd sauntered out of the distant shadows, allowing the dim light in the entry to illuminate him, it was leaning toward the former.

The brim of his worn hat concealed his features from the light, yet there was a subtle sort of glow to those fixated eyes of his. A near-clear view of the wolfish grin that stretched his skin and scrunched his nose.

"I would ask what pleasure I owed, but something…" his voice trails as he steps closer, leering at Ilona, "Something tells me it would be a wasted attempt at conversation. What could possibly have your petals so ruffled, buttercup?"

He knew. She knew that he knew. And yet, he pressed. Instigated. Ilona sighed and waved off the idea of giving him fuel. Of airing her grievances. 'It's because I'm stuck here. With you of all people.'

"It's not important, Karl." But there was no harm in a little nudge. A subtle jab that would get just far enough under his skin to keep things calm enough for the time being. Just far enough to cause his lips to curl and teeth to bare. Still, he did well to conceal the bitter feeling at being referred to so… personally.

"Oh, I'm sure it isn't. Surely it's nothing, if that pout of yours is anything to judge by. Or the little furrow of your brows." It seems he, too, is returning the nudge. Both in the metaphorical sense, and in the literal, especially as a gloved finger comes to roughly jab at Ilona's shoulder before he draws back.

It brings a more prominent scowl to the woman's features as she sighs, head shaking as she looks around for something—anything—else to preoccupy herself with amidst the mess. Piles of unsorted scrap are all that await her, and the prospect of scraping her hands against the rough metal isn't exactly appealing. So, instead, she simply pretends Heisenberg isn't there. Walks past him to, with some hesitation etching into her muscles, find a different area to plant herself in. Perhaps somewhere with a piece of proper furniture. With something less grimy to entertain her as the moon traverses the night sky and leads the sun along with it. It'd be too much to ask for a corner of the factory without Heisenberg, or his influence, especially as he trails along behind her, but at this point taking her chances with (another) Soldat would be preferable to the grating voice and smug laughter. Thankfully for both of them, much as neither would admit it, it doesn't come to that. Rather, through some rather subtle corralling on Heisenberg's part, the duo has found themselves in his personal alcove. Amidst the messy workbenches, scattered papers, and a rather intriguing wall of connections between the ragtag group. Red strings illuminating the relationships between their fucked up little family. Stiffened pieces of scrap that appear to have been thrown, and with quite some force, to decorate the spaces around Miranda's portrait. And, amidst the others, a smaller portrait of hers. A recognition that she was, willingly or otherwise, an important part of the dynamic. One that sat unmarked, highlighted by an uncertain air.

Friend, or foe? Ally, or enemy? To spare, or to tear down with the rest of them all? In a way, there was almost reassurance in that hesitation exhibited by Heisenberg. Something about the fact these waxing and waning feelings were, in a way, mutual. An intriguing series of questions echoed in her head as she'd stepped over to unpin her visage from the board. To allow her fingers to trace the weathered edges of the film as the candlelight found them. Heisenberg watched, biting his tongue for once and simply opting to bring himself back to organizing the remnants of his current project.

"So you do like me?" A tease, highlighted with an essence of genuine curiosity.

"Alive, perhaps. Jury's still out on if it goes any further, or if that's where the answer stays." Too, a tease, though there was a lingering bitterness in his voice. A seriousness that betrayed him. As it stood, he had no idea whose side she would fall on. And, albeit deep, deep down, that lack of clarity made him uneasy. Still, he did well to mask it, turning to lean with his back against the workbench, wrench twirling between gloved fingers. "For now, I suppose I could say yes."

Ilona's arms fold across her chest. "It never is quite a straight answer with you, is it?"

"Of course not. How else do you expect I keep everyone on their toes?" That wolfish grin of his spreads across his features once more, his own arms mimicking the movement of hers. "Especially now. With so many hours to kill. You wouldn't want things to be boring, would you?"

"I'd almost prefer it." Still, there's a subtle shift in her tone that betrays the minute enjoyment she receives from their bickering. A hint of potential for missing it, should things lead them astray from one another's path. "Fine, keep me on my toes all you'd like. Just don't be surprised if it grows tired. After all, not everyone is as devoid of basic manners as you are."

"So you've said, and so I continue to ignore."

Neither would expect any less from him. From one another. And as the hours passed, it remained just as so. Ilona attempting to mind her business while perusing the various work-in-progress projects scattered about. Karl finding himself particularly itchy with the urge to bother her, remind her how unfortunate the circumstances were to be stuck within his domain. A few back and forths. A few nudges and prods. Little things that ultimately left the two ever envigorated as the sun rose and the woodlands cleared, allowing for Ilona to return herself to the Village.

And for once, the two had parted on fairly decent terms. How long that lasted, only time would tell.

#txt #my fics #resident evil #karl heisenberg #ilona melnyk #heisenberg x oc #pheedraws #mybloodyvalentinesday24

[madphantom]

New Sarah snippet under the cut ✨

Sarah has eyes just like mine, one brown, one blue, just reversed - her right eye is brown as the lake's shade, mine blue as the sky above it. Her body carries the colours of the world around us, the roses and the lake and the summer evenings, and I love her and everything I see her in.

We spent the evening on the shore tonight, just the two of us, her head in my lap as the breeze played with her soft brown curls.

"Sarah, tell me a story," I whispered and she smiled with those lips I would bleed for.

"What story do you want to hear?"

"Tell me one of those the blind old lady in whose barn we lived last winter told her grandchildren. Her voice was so gentle, yet the stories chased a shiver down my spine. Perhaps your sweet little voice would take away their horror."

"Once upon a time there was an old God," she began, gentle as the birch trees swaying in the breeze. "It was so old that it had forgotten who had once worshiped it, or what it was even the God of. It was so old it had forgotten to be awake.

The God slumbered as a great two-headed white catfish at the bottom of a lake, far beneath the mud and the old sunken trees, and it had forgotten the world and all its troubles. But at the lakeshore, a young child, a boy with eyes as blue as the waves, wandered through the wildflowers. He had run there through the deep green forest, trying to hide from his mother after breaking a pot at home. And careless as children are, he took a pebble and tossed it into the lake.

And the pebble sank and it landed in the catfish's eye. And the God awoke from thousands of years of slumber, and the God rose once more, towards the surface, towards the light, to find who the culprit that had woken it was.

And the God saw the boy, and the God took pleasure in seeing him, as one might take pleasure in seeing a butterfly in the field. And the God itself was curious as a child to know more about the world and its inhabitants, and so it turned into a young boy itself, a boy with long white curls who sat on a rock in the middle of the lake and played a wooden flute as sweetly as only something that was not human could.

And the boy at the lakeshore saw the strange boy and heard him play the flute, and he was mesmerized by what he saw. And he stepped out into the waves, and followed the sweet sounds of the flute into the cool blue. And he thought of nothing but those slender fingers, and the rose-coloured eyes that seemed to contain the moon and stars on summer mornings.

But in all its haste the God had forgotten that the child would drown, and grief-stricken it stared at his pale face, and the motionless eyes as blue as the waves. And suddenly it remembered all it had forgotten, and it remembered in horror how once upon a time it had been chased into the lake by the townsfolk, who could not understand it, and it could not understand them.

And so the God left the child on the shore among the wildflowers, and it returned to its eternal sleep, to forget what it had done and forget once more about the world and its cruelty. But they say to this day, on moonlit nights, if you toss a pebble into the lake and find yourself followed home by a white animal, it is the God taking pleasure in seeing you."

I smiled into the night. "You know, it is peculiar. This time around, the story barely scared me."

"It is a sad story, isn't it?" Sarah tilted her head. "After all, the God was not evil, was it? It was simply there. It could not know that the boy would die for trying to understand it. If anything, it was the boy's parents who were evil, for scaring him away from home just because he broke a pot."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the God knew, deep down. Perhaps it thought another ghost might save it from haunting itself." I picked up a pebble and tossed it into the lake. It sunk with a quiet glug glug glug, almost as if drowning.

Then, suddenly, I heard footsteps. Sarah's head raced up from my lap and she looked around, wide-eyed, as if haunted.

"Pardon me?", a soft voice said, a voice that felt like the birch trees, like the lake's waves, like the crickets in the fields and the rustling hares in the thickets. I turned my head and saw.

There, in the shadows of the trees stood a stranger, dressed in a brown waistcoat, with a heavy bag and a cane made of a tree branch. Their narrow, hawkish face was framed with copper hair, their nose thin and somewhat arched, their lips drawn back in what was a smile that reminded me of a snarling fox. From here it was impossible to tell if they were a man or a woman. The most striking part of their appearance however was a blindfold covering their eyes entirely.

"Excuse me, I may be interrupting. I am a traveler passing through, and I may have gotten lost. I was wondering whether you might know where I might stay for the night. My journey has been somewhat long and hard and I do not quite desire to sleep on the lakeshore. The pebbles may be hard." The stranger smiled a little wider, baring their fang-like teeth, white as fresh fallen snow.

Sarah and I exchanged a confused glance.

"You are traveling alone?", she inquired.

The stranger tilted their head. "Yes."

"How did you…oh, nevermind, pardon the question." Her cheeks had turned faintly red, like the horizon just before sunrise. "Do we have a spare room? I believe we do, don't we?"

"We do," I confirmed. "You may stay at our home, if you wish…?"

"Most gracious." Another smile. The stranger's constant grin unnerved me. "If I may ask, what are your names?"

"Sarah," she said.

"F-Frankie," I stuttered. "And you are…?"

Smile. "You may call me the storyteller. I tell them quite well."

#sarah the novel

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mk-writes-stuff!

Find the Word Tag

My words: star, panic, weird, break

(Pulled from Mortal God book 2)

Your words: bitter, palace, stumble, rotten

(I'll tag @the-angriest-author @autism-purgatory @super-writer-gal @trippingpossum @steh-lar-uh-nuhs and anyone else who'd like to join!)

.

In Unity, 'night' earned its title only shakily. No stars could peer past the veil of foundry smoke, the moon only a hazy shadow of its full glory. Instead, streetlamps took the place of these celestial bodies, and as they were new to the world, they performed their duty with overzealous fervor. Artificial lights of every unnatural color reflected off of artificial clouds. Even the looming islands hanging overhead like leaden raindrops shed their own pools of illumination.

It... unnerved Vermir. The ancient woman had worked hard to reacquaint herself with the trappings of the times after five hundred years imprisoned at the bottom of the ocean. For the most part, things were wonderful now. Machines could make books in a fraction of the time it would take someone to copy one, medicine could treat anything from water in the lungs to a broken skull, and that was to say nothing of the leaps and strides taken in the field of magic.

Yet even still. Night should be dark, peaceful---a time for the mind to wander, free from the constraints of the day's duties. There was nothing quiet or peaceful about this place.

.

The third garment put the first two to shame. It was a floor-length skirt with a high waistline, two rows of buttons running down to hip level. The shape was pretty simple, all in all. It was the embroidery that made it something spectacular. A tapestry of pale wolves, dagger-billed cranes, bearded unicorns, and gauzy specters cavorted through a moonlit forest, tracks leaving lacy flowers in their wake. It looked rather more like an art piece than something a person would dare to wear. Mashal imagined it still smelled like lhara and manic panic.

.

So far as he could tell, the guard wasn't throwing the fight in the slightest. Sweat dripped from the man’s face as the Duchon stepped around his kick as casually as closing a door. Before he got his foot back down, they delivered a blistering crescent kick into the man’s other thigh.

The entire crowd winced, Mashal included. He remembered that pain. There was a nerve that ran along the upper leg and it looked like the Duchon had hit it right on the money.

However, they pulled back instead of closing in, allowing the guard to stagger back up. A bloody-knuckled grin crept onto the man’s face, answered by a graceful bow from the Duchon. The two tapped fists, then continued with the match.

"This is weird, right?" Mashal whispered to Cee'es. "I thought the Skysheerian nobility considered violence a base thing."

.

Mashal took a simulated breath and made to continue. "The localization rune, when run through a calido-- calidioorogenic cycle, will flip on its axis, pushing magic away from the Veil instead of pulling from it, creating a thin spot. If"---The man paused briefly to smother a yawn---"the cycle is repeated and the axis is flipped once more---"

Astra tapped her pen on the top of the tome, causing him to glance up. "Mark your spot, take a break."

"Huh?" One of Mashal's eyes flickered as he blinked, lending very much to his tired posture. "But you said this chapter is important?"

"It can wait. We've been here for four damn hours now," the witch said. She then pointed to the looming stacks and the valley-tunnels between them. "Go stretch your legs. I was fixin' to review my notes anyways, 'fore we get any further. I gotta brush up on all a' my Veil axes."

Mashal cocked his head. "How many are there?"

"Thirty-three," Astra answered without batting an eye.

"Well, in that case, I will gladly be taking my break." The man stood with a stretch, bronze plates all clinking softly together. "I'll be back in five."

#finally i get to bring up Astra's incredible embroidery #writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs

[commander-diomika]

Fandom - Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing - Shadowheart/Lae'zel Wordcount - 1730 Tags - Kinktober 2023, Scent Kink, Blood, Cunnilingus, Finger Sucking, Hate Sex, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Shadowheart never really says yes she just doesn't say no, you know? that kind of dubious consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Summary - Lae'zel wants to be the one cleaning the blood from Shadowheart's skin after battle.

*** Minthara had died bloody yet silent. That was the part that Shadowheart kept coming back to. She hadn’t even screamed as Lae’zel’s glaive whipped through a goblin and came screeching back up in an arc, cleaving Minthara from navel to throat. Shadowheart had been on the other side, holding steady with Tav behind her. She hadn’t flinched when the spray of drow blood splattered her shield, her face, her hair.

She had been trained not to flinch.

Her mace and shield leant against a tree behind her, moonlight soaking into the red-black spray of Minthara’s dying moment. She would clean those later. The armour, already doffed and carefully polished, took priority, but there was still blood in her hair. On her hands. It had splattered onto her face, dripped down her neck…

The rivulet the party had camped by would be cold, but bathing under cover of darkness in a cool river was as easy as breathing. She peeled off her undershirt and pants. Standing naked in the moonlight, Shadowheart took a moment to breathe, and to open her heart to Lady Shar.

The fire, the heart of her strange crew’s little campsite, was well behind her through the trees. It was just her and Lady Shar out here, and she’d wandered far down the path to find solitude. Astarion was already out hunting. Karlach was on watch. Tav knew to respect her privacy. Gale and Wyll, she suspected, were still afraid of her. They thought that forbidden Sharran ideals might infect them should they come too near to her moonlit bathing. Superstitious little boys who didn’t understand anything past their own fields of expertise.

That meant the soft, leather-shod footfalls behind could only be one person. She took a deep breath in through her nose.

“What do you want?” She didn’t turn, and the footsteps didn’t falter.

Shadowheart could have lunged to snatch up her mace. She envisioned it clearly, a scene in high contrast under the harsh light of the moon. The weight of the handle, comforting in her hand as she attacked, the blood-encrusted flange crunching into that smug face.

“You know what I want.” Lae’zel replied, now close enough to Shadowheart’s back that she felt the hair on her neck shift with the gith’s breath.

Maybe not the mace then. Maybe the dagger set down with her clothes, another spray of blood for an already red-drenched day. Her eyes stayed closed and her breath didn’t hasten as her mind's eye was briefly filled with another arc of startling red.

As tempting as the vision was, deep in her heart of hearts? She knew she would lose that fight. Did the gith bleed red? She’d yet to even see Lae’zel take a wound that would answer that question.

So Shadowheart didn’t lunge for the dagger, or the mace, as Lae'zel shifted her heavy braid onto one shoulder, and leaned into the other.

Lae'zel took a slow, deliberate breath in through her snub nose, and it sent prickles washing over Shadowheart’s pale skin. “It would be a shame for the river to be the only one to taste my kill on your skin.”

She shifted closer, tongue darting out to touch the side of Shadowheart’s neck. Lae'zel’s mouth was warm, but the cool night air chilled the wet spot left behind by her tongue. Shadowheart shuddered.

Lae'zel returned to the same spot, this time mouth opening wider, lips forming a seal and tongue lapping against the skin, and with a lurch Shadowheart realised there was a bloodstain there, splattered in a furious burst, where it had dripped down her face and dried, only for a fervent tongue to moisten it. To take it in.

“Your hands.” Lae’zel commanded. Her voice was icy and Shadowheart thought of resisting, for one short moment. She could walk away from this feral woman, this animal, lapping blood off her neck and demanding more.

Shadowheart turned away from the watching eye of the moon; the cool light washed Lae’zel’s golden eyes out. There was a luminous grey flash of stars reflected, before her gaze dropped to Shadowheart’s hands. Blood and ichor stained them from wrist to fingertip, worn into the grooves of the knuckles, in the dry riverbeds of her palm lines. Lae’zel took in the sight, her pupils tightening in sick anticipation.

She licked those filthy hands like a woman starved. Holding one in a bone-creaking grip she laved her tongue over the back, ravenous, tongue finding the spaces between fingers and- it was disgusting, riveting, the sensation of wet meat drawn across her sensitive palm.

Lae’zel was making little growling sounds as she guzzled the blood off every place her tongue could reach. Her eyes were closed; it was like Shadowheart wasn’t even there. Teeth scraped the skin of the big muscle of the palm, like she was trying to scrape every last piece of gristle off a chicken leg.

Shadowheart felt… dazed by it. If anyone had ever been so hungry for Shadowheart’s skin before, she could not remember it. She was sick with something like want, stomach swooping at the feeling of a tongue rolling over the pads of her fingertips.

Lae’zel sucked two fingers all the way into her mouth, and Shadowheart moaned.

She gasped, shocked at the noise that escaped her, her free hand flying to her mouth, wet with smudged blood and spit, and Lae'zel’s eyes snapped open. Beautiful golden eyes. They pinned her in place like a dagger through the palm.

Lae’zel was feral, delighted, as though she’d caught an opening in an enemy’s defense. She leant in closer, mouth red and shining, and licked a long stripe up Shadowheart’s cheek. “I want to smell you. I want your scent. I want your sweat in my nose, down my throat.” She pulled Shadowheart in close, gripping her wrist hard. “Are you going to stop me?”

“You’re disgusting.” Shadowheart didn’t meet her eyes, or pull away.

“Chk. That is not an answer. Do you want me to stop?” Lae’zel’s eyes were mocking.

She didn’t respond, and that was enough of an assent for Lae'zel to press her advantage. She turned them both in an elegant mockery of dance, pushing until Shadowheart’s back was flattened against a tree. Without pause Lae'zel lifted Shadowheart’s hand above her head, and jammed her face into the revealed armpit, inhaling deeply.

Shadowheart squirmed against the rough bark, biting back a shriek at the invasion. She could fight back. She could. Lae’zel’s tongue licked through the hair there – like a cat grooming itself – Shadowheart thought desperately, but something about the sensation of a tongue in her armpit shot arousal straight through her, and the shriek in her throat turned into a moan, her legs to goo beneath her. If not for the hand around her wrist she may have collapsed all the way to the grassy ground.

Lae’zel tasted her fill, and Shadowheart didn’t resist as her other arm was raised. Lae’zel worshiped, drawing in deep, satisfied breaths as she made a wet mess of the aroma, the tastes, that she found there.

What defiance might have been left in Shadowheart was draining away, pooling into lust, throbbing in her belly. She could feel the slickness between her legs as Lae’zel moved her again, pushing her to a flat rock by the riverside.

Demanding, overwhelming hands shoved her down, pushed her thighs apart, and when Lae’zel’s bloody mouth found her slit she didn’t fight. She didn’t fight Lae’zel, or the moan rising desperately from her throat. When that determined tongue licked her from asshole to apex, she let out a shriek into the dark night.

Lae’zel mouth was merciless, hands finding a grip on the plush curve of Shadowheart’s hips and fastening there, holding on to prevent an escape she was no longer capable of making. Lae'zel plunged in, sucking all the soft flesh into her mouth and moaning, those sounds of delight and dominance indistinguishable from those that she’d moaned around bloody fingers in her mouth.

Shadowheart was lost in it. Unthinking, her hands scrabbled against the rock, tangling in Lae'zel’s hair, yanking against the hands and their pinprick of nails against her skin. But Lae’zel was all sinewy muscle, as immovable as the boulder they were splayed upon. Her tongue was relentless, flicking and laving, lips sucking and squeezing the flesh between them in an agony of pleasure.

Shadowheart didn’t want her to stop, but she also didn’t want her to win. Pinned down with a sharp mouth buried in her cunt certainly felt like a losing position. As her thighs began to shake with the building pleasure, she felt that defeat looming, Lae’zel pressing one advantage after another.

Shadowheart’s hands stopped their desperate roaming, and her hips rolled and bucked into Lae’zel’s hungry mouth. Her orgasm stalked up behind her despite her attempts to evade, roiling waves overcoming her.

As she came, her head dropped back, eyes finding the unblinking eye of the moon. Forgive me, Dark lady. For what, she wasn’t sure.

Lae’zel eyes were pinpricks, mouth shining and chest heaving as she clambered up Shadowheart’s body and straddled her. She grabbed a fistful of Shadowheart’s hair and yanked their faces together, sealing her victory with a kiss.

Shadowheart tasted her own arousal on Lae’zel’s tongue. She tasted blood, and she opened her lips helplessly to Lae’zel’s salty, biting mouth.

**

The sound of Shadowheart’s pleasure, a pained, defeated yowl, was easy enough to hear back by the fire, where Karlach and Wyll kept watch in companionable silence.

The noise might have been cause for alarm if it wasn’t familiar by now.

Karlach looked sidelong at her friend. “Should we… do anything about that?”

Wyll gave a helpless shrug. “What, go bang pots at them like a pair of stray dogs?”

Karlach gave a bark of laughter, then tilted her head to say, fair point. “That’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“I’m just glad they’re not fighting anymore. If this is the alternative to the whole “knives to throat at midnight,” business, I’ll take it.”

Karlach nodded. “Hey, maybe next time they stalk off like that, I should go watch.”

“For their own good, of course.” Wyll’s eye glinted devilishly in the firelight.

“Of course.”

His mouth twitched in a desperate attempt to thwart a smile. “Alright, but I’m not protecting you from either of them if you get caught.”

#shadowzel #shadowheart #lae'zel #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 kinktober #hank writes #hank talks #it's not october anymore but that isn't going to stop me #i work slow ok #the original prompt i was working off here was Gore but it strayed so far from that it's not even worth tagging it that #toxic yuri fans come get your bread

[lefisa]

SCREAM. k.sunoo

PAIRING banshee! kim sunoo x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS you found your classmate sunoo always strange, even tho you’re the class president, and all this was only reinforced when he tells you that you are going to die.

GENRE fantasy au. classmates to lovers

WARNINGS mentions of murder. dead. sleeping issues.

WORD COUNT 5k

TAGLIST @yourlocalni-kisimp @love-4-keum @enhacolor @soobin-chois

It was certainly not uncommon for Sunoo to be woken up in the middle of the night by his screams. Drenched in sweat, he was startled. Sunoo awakened from his sleep and sat bolt upright on his messed-up bed. The moon shone through the open window, which was usually covered by white curtains, but today the wind blew them around the room

Sunoo attempted to forget the faces of the people begging for mercy, who were in danger of being killed by one of the murderous creatures wandering trought that night. 

His mother often helped him get over it. She would normally sit on the edge of the bed and whisper soothing words into her son's ear while he told her about his dream over a cup of tea. 

Mrs. Kim was very aware of the Banshee gift, as the gene had been passed down in the family for thousands of years. It mostly affected the females of the bloodline, with some showing only mild banshee abilities, others being plagued by the full banshee curse, but Sunoo was the first male Kim to inherit this rare full-blown banshee gene.   

Most of the time, Sunoo's mother tried to help Sunoo with all her might, but often she couldn't really put herself in the boy's position because the gene was not particularly pronounced in her, but she still knew a lot about it and tried to make life easier for Sunoo, about which Sunoo  was very grateful because he was aware that he could never have endured it alone without help.   

On really bad days, when Sunoo couldn't stop screaming and the loud, almost screaming voices begged and cried at him, the whole family went to his grandmother's large country house for a while. It was far away from the city surrounded by fields and pastures, no forests, because his grandmother knew what dangerous things lurked there at night.   

Sunoo's grandmother was a smart old but fit woman who was also a banshee and had been for many years, which gave her some tips and tricks to calm the banshee's abilities, which kept her from going insane. She was the person that all the banshees in the family would come to for advice, so there were usually several people in her house for varying periods of time. 

While Sunoo was staying with his grandma trying to calm down, the school was told that he couldn't attend classes due to health reasons, but this was beginning to feel strange to some students as the poor boy was absent almost every month at least once and so rumors formed. Rumors nobody dared to say out loud.   

Sunoo was often aware of the rumors himself. Some people kept giving him wry, accusatory sideways glances as he walked the school corridors but rarely lowered his head to them. Well, the boy wasn't really unpopular though it seemed like it, of course, some students found him odd but most still found him sweet and friendly. 

But that night, Sunoo noticed that his mother wasn't sitting on the edge of the bed today and calming him down because she had taken sunoo's father and his sister to the sea on vacation, and had left Sunoo, quite involuntarily, at home. But now he regretted that he didn't go with them and was alone at home.

Sunoo looked around his moonlit room and finally caught sight of the glowing digits of his alarm clock, which was standing on a small bedside table next to his bed. The dark-haired boy groaned loudly and was annoyed when he saw the time.  

4:00am. 

He had three hours left until his alarm clock usually went off, and Sunoo would get up and get ready for school. But what should Sunoo do in the three hours now? If he couldn't sleep again now, he knew he would probably be tired all day. However, Sunoo was aware that he would not be able to fall asleep again. 

And so Sunoo pushed the white blanket off his body and stood up. When his warm feet touched the cold floor, the boy felt a chill run down his spine, and, now wide awaked, he padded into the living room. 

Once there, the young banshee turned on the TV and zipped through the various channels, hanging on one of the many news channels for a little too long when another death had just been reported. The victim had several scratches and bite marks exhibited.

Sunoo let out an ironic snort and rolled his eyes, knowing, of course, that this was the work of a bloodthirsty vampire, but the humans and reporters were ignorant and stupid. They saw the marks, and almost everyone thought the same thing, yet they didn't believe in the supernatural, so such cases were always labeled as regular murders.

Sunoo finally got himself back to zipping through the channels and got stuck again on another tv channel that played an episode of the famous teenage series Teen Wolf.

Sunoo had to chuckle. It was ironic. First, the news of the murder by supernatural beings, and now Teen Wolf, where just the same thing happened as in the real world. The boy found it really amusing how the fictional TV series about teenagers for teenagers resembled the real world so much. It truly felt like the producers knew about the other side of the world.

On the screen, Lydia was just seen playing the record player in the Martin Lake House and hearing the password for the list. Sunoo truly liked Lydia Martin and was a bit jealous of her specific skills, but a bunch of the things were made up of her banshee features.

And so the three hours of waiting passed, and the boy slowly began to get ready for school.

Sunoo was right the day was really hell. The whole time Sunoo tried not to close his eyes and doze off. It almost happened to the poor boy in writing class with Ms. Choo when he laid his head on the cold tabletop and slowly fell asleep, but luckily for him, his seatmate woke him up before he could doze off.

Embarrassed, Sunoo thanked her and apologized when he was embarrassed because the seatmate was actually the class president and his crush of almost two years. y/l/n y/n, which happened to be you.

Sunoo found you fascinating when you first walked through the big school doors and rattled into the classroom two years ago. With your hair tied in two high pigtails and your notepad clutched to your chest, you immediately caught the boy's attention. So Sunoo's crush on you went on for years, but the poor banshee never dared to confess to you, and so he just adored you from afar. Maybe it was because he was afraid you would think he was weird like some other classmates and you would reject him, or maybe it was because you were class president and also stuco president with Yang Jungwon. Either way, the boy couldn't bring himself to talk to you.

However, to Sunoo's regret, the dark-haired boy did not go unnoticed by you. You knew the rumors about your classmate all too well, but you only believed a few of them. Nevertheless, you had never exchanged a single word with Sunoo, although as stuco president, you had already had a conversation with almost every student. Sunoo was also your seatmate, but you never really talked to each other other than maybe a few apologies or hellos.

However, there were still a few odd moments when you couldn't help but believe the rumors a little more and found the boy's behavior strange. Like, for example, just in history class, when you noticed how the boy next to you slowly let his head fall down on the table and landed on your notes of all places. You were truly wondering why Sunoo would just fall asleep in one of the more fascinating classes. Maybe he'd had a tough or busy day, and you really didn't want to interfere in his business, so you just woke sunoo up before he could actually get to sleep and didn't mention it again.

After that lesson, Sunoo immediately went to his friends Yang Jungwon, said stuco president, Nishimura Riki, and Watanabe Haruto in the canteen and told them about his embarrassing experience.

"There's no way you fell asleep next to y/n." Haruto said, hands on his stomach while he was laughing. Sunoo just buried his head in his hands and nodded, slightly embarrassed. He really thought he could never show his face in front of you again.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad. At least it was y/n, you know she's too kind and understanding and won't tell anyone.” Jungwon said, picking some rice from his lunch box with his chopsticks. Now niki interfered in the conversation and didn't help Sunoo at all with it. “But imagine you fall asleep next to your crush and class president. I would change schools."

Jungwon just shook his head at the younger and smiled reassuringly at Sunoo. “Was there any reason why you fell asleep in the middle of class? You usually pay attention and work so well in class.”

“I don't know it myself. I just woke up last night and couldn't go back to sleep. I was probably just too tired. I guess it won't be like that tomorrow.” Sunoo smiled at the worried boy and tried to convince him, as well as himself, that everything was going to be alright.

However, sunoo was completely wrong, this behavior was going on for several weeks now and you were starting to worry about the boy because it really seemed like he was having trouble sleeping and not getting enough sleep at night.

Sunoo, on the other hand, really had trouble sleeping, every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same person dying in front of his eyes, killed by the claws of a beast, but he could never see the victim's face. She always stood with her back turned to him, and when she finally lay dead on the floor, her face was half torn, and blood flowed from every pore. Besides, his family still hadn't returned from vacation, and Sunoo had no one to help him. At times like this, he would drive to his grandma and try to relax, but he couldn't make such a long trip alone. So, he was all on his own.

It was one of those many more nights when Sunoo dreamed of that particular person again, but this time he was able to see her face directly. He saw her lifeless, dead eyes, heard her cries begging for mercy, and even imagined her perfume smell. And that's when Sunoo woke up all sweaty and screaming because the person he saw in his predictive dreams was none other than you.

Sunoo wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, he liked you and wanted to tell you as soon as possible that you were about to die, no matter what you would think of him just so you wouldn't die. On the other hand, he knew the rules. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone about their imminent death. However, it was also the first time he had such a prediction in his dream before that person died, so Sunoo wasn't too sure if it really was the banshee in him that had made that prediction or if it was just a nightmare his brain had made up in his sleep.

But then Sunoo wondered why the hell he shouldn't prevent the death of an innocent person when he had the chance to. He was tired of seeing so much news about murders and missing people. It would also save him some suffering, so sunoo decided to go to you on Monday and tell you about your fate and wished that nothing would happen to you.

“Maybe Monday is already too late. What if she died today or tomorrow? I should tell her right away." the boy murmured to himself and jumped out of bed without hesitation, simply pulled his heavy jacket over his pajamas, which consisted of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, and made his way to you in the middle of the night hoping that you were neither asleep nor dead.

Sunoo walked, or somewhat ran, down the street to your neighborhood. Every now and then, a car would drive past the trembling boy and blast him with its bright lights.

It felt like an eternity for the boy when he finally got closer to your house─he knew where you lived because he was with you once in second grade for a school project─and let out a sigh of relief when he finally stood in front of your front door. Now all he had to do was to get you out of the house somehow to talk to you.

Luckily for him, he saw a bright light burning on the first floor of your gray house and hoped very much that it was coming from your room and that he wouldn't have to wake you up from your sleep.

So now all Sunoo had to do was ring the doorbell and wait, but coming to think of it, that probably wasn't a good idea because what would he say if your parents opened the door for him? He couldn't tell them why he was standing in front of their house in his pajamas, and they'd probably think he was crazy for ringing on their doorbell just after midnight─ it's not like you wouldn't think he was crazy anyway.

The banshee took a quick look around the front yard of your house when his eyes landed on a rock in the lawn and went to pick it up, and throw it at the window, which was leaking the light out onto the street. If this was your parent's room and not yours, sunoo knew he was probably fucked.

But now, it was too late because the stone already hit the glass of the window with a loud noise.

At that moment, you were about to fill out the final forms from yesterday's stuco meeting with the council and were more than happy that you shared the papers with Jungwon. So, you only had to fill out half of them and Jungwon the rest. This saved you some work and hopefully gave you some more sleep, but when you heard something hit your window, you jumped up in fright. 

It was probably just a bird, wasn't it? What else would crash against your window at night?  

Still a bit anxious, you threw your attention back to your forms and tried to get the scary thoughts out of your head. You were about to put your pen down on the paper again when something slammed against your window for the second time. Well, you were terrified, to say the least, but you were a little curious and wanted to know what crashed into your window, even if it meant you could eventually get killed 

And so, you got up from your desk at the other end of the room and took careful steps towards your window. When you opened it, the cold night air immediately rushed into your face and infiltrated your warm room, this was the reason why you started to tremble slightly all over your body. 

You had to squint your eyes to see something in the darkness but couldn't see anything particularly striking until your gaze fell on a figure in your front yard. However, they didn't really look like a killer to you though, so you were somewhat reassured.

"Who is there?" you yelled into the cold night and immediately started to regret it again because it probably wasn't the smartest thing to shout to a possible killer. After all, that was part of every halfway good horror movie, and most of the time, they never answered anyway.

"Y/n? This is Sunoo from writing class. Can we maybe talk?” Sunoo yelled up at you in a whisper, careful not to wake your parents since he was now reasonably sure that they were asleep and hoped that you would come down to him and talk to him without protest.

On the other hand, you couldn't believe your ears. Why on earth would Kim Sunoo, from your writing class, be standing in front of your house in the middle of the night to want to talk to you. Couldn't he discuss this with you in class on Monday?

You started to think for a moment and answered the boy, "Uhh yes I think so. Hold on, I'm coming out.” Maybe this still wasn't a good idea, but what could Sunoo do to you?

You left your room and snuck barefoot down the long flight of stairs connecting the two floors, careful not to wake anyone up or get yourself into trouble.

When you got outside, you zipped up your jacket because it was colder than you thought and took quick steps toward Sunoo. As you approached him, despite the darkness, you were able to consider him more closely; his black hair was tousled and messy, he was probably what it looked like to you in his pajamas, and he seemed like he hadn't slept in a while.

"Why the hell do you want to talk to me in the middle of the night?" You might have asked the poor boy in front of you a bit too harshly, but you only realized this after you had thrown the words at Sunoo's head, but it didn't impress him really and he started to answer you.

"I'm happy to explain all that to you, but I would find it better if we couldn't talk about that right in front of your front door and instead could go to the park on the other side of the street and sit on a park bench there."

"Are you insane? Want to go to a park in the middle of the night? Aren't you scared of what might be walking around there at that time?” You started to feel fooled, maybe Sunoo wanted to kidnap you and then kill you after all.

Sunoo rolled his fox-like eyes in annoyance and let out a long, annoyed sigh through his pink lips. "Look y/n, normally I would be the first to fear something like this because I know exactly what goes on in places like this at night and what creatures lurk there, but it's really important that I tell you everything in an undisturbed place and I can promise you that nothing will happen to you."

"How do I know you won't kill me?"

Now Sunoo had enough of your questions and just pulled you by your wrist to the park across the street and sat with you on one of the many benches. You knew there was no point in arguing, so you just let yourself be dragged along with him without protest.

"Please listen and promise me you won't freak out when I'm done," Sunoo paused for a moment, seeking approval, which you gave him with a nod, "So, um, where do I start?"

"Maybe in the beginning?"

"Um yeah, maybe that would be for the best," Sunoo nodded, scratching his neck in embarrassment. “You have to know, in our world, there are not only normal people. Among us live vampires, werewolves, and many other mystical creatures you can imagine, you've probably heard about the many murders in the news right? Most of them were vampires or werewolves.” Sunoo stopped talking again and looked at you again to make sure you could follow him.

But there was just too much information for you to process in your head. Of course, you'd heard about the murders, but there weren't any vampires or anything like that, at least, your fantasy stopped working at that point. And why should Sunoo know all this?

As if Sunoo could read your mind, he immediately answered your question, "You must be wondering how I know all this. My family has been a part of these supernaturals for millennia. I don't know if you've ever heard of banshees, but this gene has been inherited in my family for a long time and I got it. So that means I can somehow predict the deaths of others and know where someone just died because the victims tell me.”

You were kind of surprised by the long confession he just told you. A few owls hooted in the trees above you and made the story seem even more believable.

"If all of this is true, why would you tell me all this? After all, I hardly know you.”

"I know, and I shouldn't even tell you all this. I could really get in trouble because of it, after all. But I saw you in one of my dreams the other day, to be honest, I didn't even know I was capable of something like that until that point. Yet you were there, I could see you, hear you and even smell you, and then you died, actually, you were killed by the claws of a werewolf."

"So you're telling me now that I'm going to die soon?" You started to giggle slightly at that thought. You really expected everything from this conversation, but saying you're going to die was really a bit too ironic, and all you wanted to know was if Sunoo was mentally ok because it didn't seem to you? Well, you definitely couldn't shake the rumors that he was crazy. But somehow, you felt sorry for the boy.

"I know this sounds crazy, but you have to believe me. I'm telling the truth." Sunoo tried desperately to save the situation, but he failed miserably, and he noticed that himself.

"I'm sorry, Sunoo, but this sounds like a story that my grandma would tell me before bed to keep me from getting up in the night and wandering around at night" You gave the boy an apologetic look and got up off the bench, your legs feeling a little wobbly from the lengthy sit and stormed out of the little park.

"Y/n, please wait!" the boy begged and ran after you, passing the small lake and the many bushes.

"Please stop."

Luckily for Sunoo, you stopped short on the road and let him catch up with you. But when you made sure there were no cars, your legs almost automatically moved across the street.

But before you knew it, a relatively large silver car was speeding towards you at full speed and didn't look like it was about to slow down. You already saw the car drive into you, and for a short time, you regretted all the bad things you had done in your life. You knew that it was too late for you and that nothing could help you out of this situation.

Sunoo, who was still standing on the sidewalk, saw the car speeding toward you as well, and without thinking twice, he sprinted in your direction and threw you sideways, landing lightly on you and holding you in that position for a short while. Your faces slowly began to move toward each other. But before anything else could happen, you cleared your throat, and Sunoo remembered why you were in this position and slowly rolled off you.

The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins as you tried to piece the event together in your head. It was clear that the car was after you and wanted to kill you, but you couldn't explain why.

"Are you alright?" Sunoo asked you concerned, examining your face a little more closely, checking for injuries. You giggled slightly at Sunoo's worried expression, but you were still shocked and afraid for your life.

"Thank you, Sunoo. You really saved my life, who knows what would have happened if you hadn't been there. Maybe you're right after all with your funny predictions because it really seemed like the driver just wanted to kill me” You thanked the boy next to you and got up from your lying position.

Sunoo started to smile even though you almost got killed and started to get up too. "I'm really glad you believe me, but that wasn't the reason why you died in my dream. I think someone still has plans to harm you."

"What if you tell me more about everything inside? You can sleep here overnight.” You nodded your head towards your door and started walking toward it, Sunoo following you inside gratefully.

As the weeks slowly passed by, Sunoo and you were practically stuck together at school and at home. Of course, your friends noticed this too and wondered what had happened that you were now sitting and giggling together every break because there was rarely a moment when you weren't seen together.

Your parents were also surprised, somewhat shocked, to see a boy your age entering the house who was not Jungwon, who was often in your house because of stuco matters. Still, they were kind of proud of you for making new friends and hanging out with other people. Your parents still loved your friends with their whole hearts, though.

"How the fuck did you, Kim Sunoo, get with y/n y/l/n?" Niki questioned, the boy one day, his hands buried deep in his black baggy jeans, when they were waiting for you together in front of the school so that Sunoo could go home with you.

"Maybe he's just blackmailing her, so she has to hang out with him." hissed Haruto and leaned against the cold stone wall behind him, sighing. He really didn't understand why they were waiting for you here with Sunoo when he could have been home long ago.

“First of all, y/n and I are just friends. Second, what do you even mean by that? Why should I blackmail y/n? We just get along well." Sunoo tried to explain it to his friends and sounded a little too offended for his friends.

"Oh come on, you couldn't even get a single word out in front of her without stuttering a few weeks ago and now you're just clinging to her."

The questions from the two boys continued for a few more minutes, and sunoo was slowly getting impatient that you didn't come out to relieve him. At that moment, he was glad that Jungwon wasn't also taking part in the conversation and just tried to stop the boy from teasing Sunoo. But of course, Jungwon was curious too and wanted to know where the sudden change came from.

"Okay, maybe I told her I'm a banshee." Sunoo finally gave in and told the truth, but before the words left Sunoo's mouth entirely, the boys let out shocked gasps and widened their eyes at Sunoo's confession.

"I think I didn't quite get it - you did what?!" Jungwon almost yelled his question as he nearly dropped the school books he held in his hands until then, but he could stop them just in time from sliding through his hands.

"I told her I'm a Banshee."

Now, this definitely came as a shock to the three boys as they knew that no human was supposed to know about the supernatural, and until now, they had managed to hide it as best they could from their classmates, but they never thought it would be Sunoo telling a human about the supernaturals. To be honest, everyone thought it would be Niki who would be the first to blurt out the secret, well, it had slipped out of the boy at least once before, though.

Both Niki and Jungwon were equally supernatural, with Niki being a witch and Jungwon being a former angel. Just Haruto was the only human in the friend group, as Haruto found out about the three when he accidentally saw Niki practicing magic in one of the classrooms after school in front of Sunoo and Jungwon.

When Sunoo and Jungwon found out that Haruto knew about them, they first had to stop Niki from using a spell on the poor boy that would make him forget everything, and instead, they took him into their group.

But now Sunoo had told another human and none of the three knew why and they were sure that Sunoo wouldn't tell them so easily.

Before the group could ponder further and pepper Sunoo with questions, Sunoo noticed you in front of the big school entrance and quickly let himself be taken with big steps, leaving his friends alone behind him.

You could already see how Sunoo approached you when you left school with your best friend. This probably wasn't too difficult either because the smiling boy stood out in the crowd so much that you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Hey y/n, are you ready to go?" Sunoo stopped in front of you as he approached you and gave both you and your girlfriend one of his famous heart-melting smiles.

"Uhm yeah, let's go!" You replied to the boy as you tried to ignore your friend's teasing look and dragged Sunoo behind you as you started walking away but not before saying goodbye to your friend.

On your way home you often stopped by different shops and perused the various delicacies at the bakery while talking about your day.

"Would you like to do anything special today?" the black-haired boy asked you as he pulled you away from one of the shop windows, slowly getting a little impatient but appreciating the beaming look you had in your eyes, so he didn't say anything

You jerked your head off the different colored flowers when you heard the boy's question and shook your head slightly when you answered him. "No, I don't think so. I just want to lie in bed and maybe watch some Netflix."

"Okay then let's go home."

With these words the boy intertwined his fingers with your own, thereby drawing you closer to him and silently walking with you down the crowded streets to your house.  

Sunoo cherished moments like this between the two of you, holding hands with the love of his life and trapped in the happy little world they had together, promising himself that he would protect you forever – no matter what would come.

#enhypennetwork #ficscafe #sunoo x y/n #kim sunoo #sunoo imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #angst #banshee au #banshee x reader

[stankycowboy]

He watches @ulfhrafnx slide her pale hands along the woman’s face, lifting her head up, away from the sight of muddied, mutilated bodies scattered across the now ruined, desolate village. A pang hits his heart, forcing a choked noise from him, causing his hand to involuntarily raise to hover over his chest. The feeling comes not for pity nor sympathy for this devastated stranger, her mortal perils mean little to him— no mother, no child of human origin can move him to do more than imagine their bones between his teeth— but what passes between the woman and Lira; that is the power that has captivated him all this time. The harbinger ignites a fire in the woman’s dead soul, a flame of vengeance that will devour her whole, burn her to righteous ashes. But the sheer magnitude of her fury will be glorious. It will burn like the dawn light on a new day, blistering the shadows of the earth. Even he can feel the heat radiating off of her. There are words spoken, but he cannot hear them, they are not for him. He senses what they entail; has known something of being broken to one’s core and needing to be lifted out again. What words are said is not as important as understanding what that ache will mean. The self destruction of it, the gratification as you let the rot spill forth; drowning those you hate in the vile poison that eats you alive. Severen feels himself smiling, it is a sick and painful grin. A grimace, a silent snarl, as he watches his beloved conclude her task and return to him. His blue eyes are distant, glazed, focused upon the marionette who rises on her strings to carry out her last bidden task. A warm hand runs over his cold cheek, nails dragging against the scruff of his unkempt beard. Slowly, he is drawn back into the moonlit forest of her eyes, brilliant golden flecks bedecked upon vibrant leaves; reflecting her true home within her always. They linger in the silence of the understood and understanding. Centuries could pass in this manner as the two hold their secret conference. Eventually, she presses full lips to his, folds her palm within his own, and the two walk through the corpse field together; wolf and vulture wandering through the remnant waste of humanity.

#✘ ic. #ulfhrafnx #one shot

[overtime-city-works]

Moon child

Dabi x gn reader no warnings.

The darkness is something that has always been feared, as something that only brings trouble, pain and suffering.

For you that is not the case, the night brings peace, calm, and healing. It is the time you can escape from the expectations of the day and simply dream of a different place.

You look up to the moon above, its silver light is simply that, a neutral unjudgmental light that gently curves and grazes against the deeper parts of black.

Your quirk is something that not even you fully understand. Some people would say you didn't even have one, as it only ever works in the light of the moon. You don't mind how cliche and useless that could be to some people.

When the light reaches your outstretched hand, you feel the cool touch of metal. In your hand, stretching the length of your body is a spear. You close your eyes, feel the shift, and then you open them to the weighted rivets in the handle of a katana.

"You shouldn't play with those," a raspy, deep voice comes from the shadows of an alley. There's a spark of blue and in the light smoke swirls out from a cigarette into the bright moonlit street.

"It might give someone the wrong idea."

You're not afraid. The katana melts and slips from your fingers and becomes one again with the light. A new form emerges, and you pick up the small cat, you nuzzle into the soft grey fur of its belly before you set it gently down on the road. It wanders towards the stranger in the dark, hidden from the moon, hidden from you.

There is a flash of blue, before you can even consciously call something forward, the light has hardened into a box around you. The cat walks forward, unharmed.

"What's your quirk?" The stranger says, suspicious.

"Something stronger than the flames of cremation," You say quietly, recognising the black haired man who steps into the light.

Dabi has found you at your most powerful. The only way your could be more so is if you were in more open space like a field where all the light could touch.

"I'm guessing you know who I am," Dabi smirks.

"And you do not know what I am," you answer, calling the cat to return to you. As it does, you see the image of Dabi in your mind from when he was fighting the children from UA.

The cat gets bigger, and shifts and moves until in its place is the copy of the man in front of you.

You make the moonlight Dabi turn, and pose, and then come to you, and you can't help but scoff at Dabis obvious disgust when you make the copy of him throw a peace sign.

"Some sort of mimic?"

"Something like that," you say vaguely.

Again, he throws blue flames at you. It's sudden, and it engulfs you like a ring. The Dabi form melts away again as you sigh and keep your composure even though the fire light is brighter than the moon, perhaps Dabi is one of the only people who could kill you then.

"I didn't come here to fight," you say.

It seems at your lack of fear he creates a pathway through the flames and stalks towards you.

"You shouldn't be out if you don't intend to fight tonight," his eyes look you over, with something like disdain. "You're not a hero are you?"

You shake your head, and the mirth comes back to his lips.

"Didn't think so, you're too fucking weird. Standing in the middle of the street like that,"

"I'm neurodivergent." You say.

"Weird and blunt," Dabi says, a wrinkle at his nose.

"No, just neurodivergent. If you expect common answers, go find someone common"

There's a buzzing, coming from Dabi's pocket. He finishes the cigarette, but he doesn't blow the smoke in your face like you expect. Instead, he pulls a slightly singed card from his jacket.

"Call this number tomorrow evening. If you feel like you want to do something with that quirk of yours,"

"And if I don't want to join you?" You ask, even as you take it.

He shrugs. "I don't give a fuck, just know that I'll burn it tomorrow at 11pm even if you're holding it," He grins.

You highly doubt that Dabi's power works similarly to Hawks', but you don't really want to take the risk. You hold the singed card, and as Dabis flames burn lower you summon the grey cat once again. It's soft fur against your face as it nudges against your cheek is calming.

Dabi begins to walk away.

You expect something scathing, but it seems he's done with you. You stand still, holding your cat until Dabi has disappeared down the hill.

You inspect the card, turn it over and commit the number to memory before you summon flames of grey and it burns up to nothing. You'd be useless to them anyway.

"Aizawa will find this interesting hmm, that's the third villain to approach me this month. I wonder if I'm giving off some sort of signal" You say quietly as you hold your head still for the cat to gently headbutt it.

The cat meows softly, it sounds like your old childhood pet.

As if you hadn't been interrupted, you go back to practicing with your quirk, Aizawa for all his faults with his hero students, has a different relationship with you and the others. Unsuitable for hero work, something of an experiment.

You don't mind, it gets you out of the house.

#mha dabi #bnha #overtime city drabbles #dabi drabble #mha fanfiction #fanfiction #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #gn reader

[himbowithapen]

Monsterfucktober 2023 - Day 2, Werewolf

It was the night of October the first. The moon full and bright, hanging over the night sky and casting its light down onto the countryside. Agata and Stem had set out for their sunset date hours earlier. They’d brought a picnic dinner, a blanket, and plenty of lube.

            “Are we sure it’ll be okay?” asked Stem; their voice cut through the quiet air, where no one but their partner could hear. They sat underneath a large oak, holding hands and pressing their parted lips against each other’s necks.

            “I’m sure. It’s barely a full moon anymore, I’ll be fine.” said Agata, eyes screwed shut while she enjoyed the feeling of Stem’s embrace. She pulled them both down onto the blanket, lying down under the tree’s leaves while their hands wandered beneath each other’s clothes. Stem pulled Agata’s sundress up above her waist, and Agata unbottened their floral shirt in return. In no time at all, their bare bodies rubbed up against each other, and Stem took a leap by rubbing between her legs.

            “Wow, I’ve never felt you so wet.” They pressed lightly, rubbing in slow circles while watching her react. She turned onto her back, running one hand through Stem’s hair as they slowly put more and more pressure against her.

            “Me neither. I think it’s being outside, it’s fucking exciting.” She grinned to them and bit down on her lip. “Keep going, just like that.” With her other hand, she reached down and caressed herself just above where Stem’s hand was rubbing. Their hand was under her underwear now, rolling her clit gently between their fingers. She swore and moaned and released Stem’s hair to put a hand to her chest. Her breaths were quick and her face was strained, all while Stem carefully kept the same speed and pressure on her. Then she pulled forward, gripping Stem’s wrist tightly and pulling her legs together. “Oh my god, hold on. It’s too much.” They kept still, fingers still just grazing her clit, and she breathed for a moment. Ahead of her was the moonlit field, grassy and empty.

            “Do you want to try it?” asked Stem, following her gaze. She nodded and pulled them close, and the pair were all over each other once more, now rolling out from under the tree and into the open field. Immediately, Stem felt Agata’s body turn cold. They continued to kiss, tongues between their mouths, when they felt her teeth sharpen. She lightly bit down on their lower lip, and suddenly their mouth felt electric. They came to a stop and she was on top of them, body grey and exposed in the dim light. Her bra came off, and Stem watched as she began to change.

Her shoulders broadened, arms up and behind her head while she grinded her crotch against theirs. They saw her arms grow larger, short dark hairs growing from her enlarged muscles. Her body, from the base of her neck down to her groin, quickly became covered in thin, blonde hairs. Stem stoked up and down the sides of her body, feeling the silky bristles against their hand, then settled on her hip dips, which they gripped tightly while she changed.

The back-and-forth motion of her hips became more aggressive. The hair on her head grew outward, becoming wilder and thicker with every passing moment. The moonlight shone on her from above and Stem watched in awe as the woman they knew and loved changed into the beast she would keep hidden from them every month. And oh god did they like what they saw.

            “You doing okay?” They asked, lightening their grip just slightly. Underneath her, separated between only the thin fabric of both their underwear, they felt fiery and desperate.

            “Fucking fantastic.” Her breaths grew tense and her hands plummeted down onto their shoulders. She gripped their muscles tightly as she arched her back and pushed hard against their groin. Then her hands began to change, morphing from the warm hold they’d grown used to into something sharper: something deadlier.

She let out a moan which echoed across the landscape, beaming from ear to ear while she grinded against them. Then she turned her sights down to her lover, and with a clawed hand she effortlessly tore off her own underwear.

            “Fuck, you’re hot.” gasped Stem. Their eyes wandered all around her form, excitement growing with each darting movement.

            “Says you, good-looking.” She leaned down and kissed them, and they kissed back. Her tongue was so much longer now, and Stem felt it in their mouth, heading towards their throat. It was dripping with saliva, and they savoured every taste of her. She put her weight down on top of them, hips grinding, hair-coated body pressed up against their chest, both rubbing up and down as she moved along their body.

            Her tongue left them, and she began to kiss down their body. “I want you so bad.” Her claw caressed their thigh. “Please, can I give you some head?”

            Panting, they felt their mouth go wet at the sight of her. “Not unless I get to too. Let me get a taste of you gorgeous

“Mmmm, fuck yes. I wanna feel you moaning round my clit, want you to use that tongue and eat me out till the sun rises.” In one swift motion, she turned herself around so they were straddling them backwards, then she slowly slid her waist up towards their face. “Don’t suffocate on me, okay hun?” A tail, long and thick, stuck out from just above her ass, sweeping violently from side-to-side.

Their hands went straight to her ass; they groped both cheeks and pulled towards them. “There’s no way I’d rather go. Now come closer, I’m so thirsty for you.”

She laughed. It was deeper than they were used to, and more confident. “Oh I can see from here how bad you want me.” Stem felt her wet tongue against their groin, then slowly, she started giving them head. Their own tongue reached out to taste her, and after first contact they pressed the tip of their tongue against her clit, flicking gently before moving down to continue in their mission; to make her cum as hard as possible. Agata tasted just right; strong, rich, exactly as normal, except for one thing. There was a tang, something that made their tongue explode with flavour and left it wanting more. They couldn’t help but try to bury their tongue deeper in her sweet cunt, trying to get more of it.

Agata’s claws pressed hard against their thighs, almost breaking the skin, and they felt her own legs compress around their head. Her own mouth was hard at work: they could feel her head moving all over the place, hungry and savagely trying to ravage as much of them as she could. They could feel it, that mounting pressure inside them, the need to cum. But not yet, they knew they were a one-and-done type of person and even in this form there was no way they could take anymore from Agata after an orgasm. So, they gripped her waist and pulled her upright. As they did so, her ass cheeks rolled backwards with the rest of her, and suddenly she was riding their face

“Shit. Honey don’t stop.” Her body rocked against their face, clit pressing against their chin, hips bouncing. Their tongue reached deeper inside her, and through brief windows of breath they sucked and licked as far inside her as they could. Their hands gripped tight on her hips, and her claws dug into their chest. When their ears weren’t blocked by her thighs, they could hear her moaning, or panting. Then, she pressed down hard against their face. “Fuck, I’m about to cum. Please don’t stop. Please.” Stem kept up the motion, but their tongue was getting tired. It strained more and more with every dive inside her, and their mouth grew tired from sucking. But she tasted so good, and nothing made them feel better than knowing she was having the time of their life, so they persisted, passionately licking every inch of her vagina that they could reach and keeping their chin pressed against her clit until, suddenly, her legs tightened, and they felt her shaking above them.

Agata’s hips moved back, and Stem was able to breathe again. She howled up at the sky, and that howl transformed into a loud moan. Then, she fell backwards onto the moonlit grass. “Oh my God, that felt so good.” Her claws were between her legs, messing with her clit while she whined. “You’re fucking amazing.”

She had a few moments to relax while Stem pulled themselves off the ground. But, with a wet mouth, they walked over to her and parted her legs, then knelt down between her knees. “Question for you. Are you finished, or do you want to really fuck?”

            She grinned up at him, fangs bared and shining at him. “As if you need to ask. I always want you more.” Before they could even react, she pushed herself off the ground and pounced at them. Agata’s body, large and hairy, crashed against Stem’s, and the pairs tongues found each other in the chaos. They kissed and found the right position without even opening their eyes, then tore at each other’s bodies like animals under the light of the moon.

#werewolf #werewolf lover #monsterfucktober 2023 #tw monsterfucking #monsterfucktoberbingo #sixtynine

[dustedmagazine]

Elena Setién — Moonlit Reveries (Thrill Jockey)

Photo by Pablo Axpe

Elena Setién’s soft, eerie songs blend folk and jazz, pop and torch music in shivering nocturnal trance-states that haunt the space they live in. She has not, up to now, been much concerned with rhythm or propulsion — hers are not generally songs that make you want to move — but that all changed when she decided to collaborate with Wilco percussionist Glenn Kotche.

The two met when Kotche toured Spain with Wilco in 2022 and soon began conspiring to splice Kotche’s beats to Setién’s witchy melodies. Kotche’s A Beat a Week drum instruction manual served as a jumping off point. Setién constructed “Surfacing” and “Arrival” atop percussive patterns from the book. The process turned collaborative with Setién sending her ideas off to Kotche, him altering or embellishing them and sending them back. The idea of beats filtered into the other instrumentation as well. Setién’s guitar playing, while quiet, has a sharp rhythmic edge. One track, “Pintado II” grew out of Kotche’s On Fillmore project; it emerges as an intricate mesh of tonal percussion and Setién’s narcotic voice.

These are two very different artists who converge without compromising. The music exists in a neutral area that is distinct from either player’s comfort zone. “Asking” for instance, lets fly a rambunctious spray of percussion, a bit that rattles and clatters and intermittently explodes, rampaging all over the kit in a repeating pattern. It runs under the whole song, an ongoing undercurrent of punch and aggression that transforms Setién’s fluid melody, giving it urgency and fire. A cacophony of mallet play — xylophone, vibraphone, marimba, something like that — cascades in like splinters of multi-colored glass. The tune is sharper, more insistent than it might otherwise have been.

The title track is subtler in the way it employs rhythm, framing a baroque folk fairy tale narrative in ghostly motifs of harpsicord, guitar and glockenspiel. “When all our queens/Left wandering/They walked through fields/Through valleys deep,” croons Setién, in a fay, wondering way, amid glittering sonic architectures. Yet even the tracks where Kotche didn’t participate, especially “Coloured Lizards” have a syncopated swagger, a stop start guitar pattern anchoring Setién’s folk romantic delivery. She sounds a little like Josephine Foster on this one.

The idea of collaboration is to take you out of your own head, to prompt new ideas and approaches, and Moonlight Reveries clearly accomplishes that. This album won’t shock or alienate longtime fans of Setién—it’s not that far from what she was doing in Unfamiliar Minds—but it does extend the idea of what this songwriter is capable of. Bravo for that and for the risk worth taking.

Jennifer Kelly

#elena setién #moonlight reveries #thrill jockey #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #folk #jazz #glenn kotche #percussion

[journalrash]

In a realm where shadows dwell and whispers roam, A Dark Prince found his heart's wandering home. Through moonlit glens and starless nights, He roamed alone, 'til a feisty fox caught his sights.

With fur as red as the dying sun, And eyes that sparkled with mischief and fun, She danced through woods with grace and flair, Leaving trails of laughter in the chilly air.

The Prince, enchanted by this vibrant sprite, Sought her company every single night. Through forests dark and fields so wide, Side by side, they'd wander, stride by stride.

He, cloaked in shadows, a mystery untold, She, bright as fire, brave and bold. Opposites in every conceivable way, Yet together, they'd laugh, together they'd play.

In her, he found his solace, his light, In him, she found a strength, a knight. A dark prince and a feisty fox, entwined by fate, Proving love thrives not in light, but in night's gentle gait.

Through every trial, every test, Their bond grew stronger, among the best. For in a world where dark meets light, Love is the truest force, the mightiest might.

In a realm where whispers weave and shadows sneak, I, the sly fox, played hide-and-seek. With fiery fur, I pranced and spun, Unaware of the prince who thought he'd won. He, lurking in darkness, a prince so sly, Caught by the twinkle in my eye. Through thorns and thistles, we'd dash and dart, Bound by a bond, neither could outsmart. In him, I found strength, a bit askew, In me, he found wit, fresh and new. Through trials and jests, our love did grow, In the night's embrace, our spirits aglow.

#poetry #lovers

[mochipinkbunny]

In the realm of slumber's sighs,

Where shadows dance and hopes arise,

There lies a place so far away,

Where dreams are born and hearts can play.

In moonlit fields and starry skies,

Imagination starts to rise,

Unfolding tales of endless worth,

Where anything can find rebirth.

A gentle breeze, a whispered rhyme,

Transcending bounds of space and time,

With open eyes but minds set free,

We wander far into the sea.

We fly on wings of sheer delight,

Through realms unknown, both day and night,

Where fantasies come into view,

And miracles are born anew.

We paint the canvas of our dreams,

With vibrant hues and vivid themes,

Creating worlds that are our own,

Where seeds of hope can soon be sown.

In dreams, we conquer fear and doubt,

And find the strength to venture out,

To chase the stars and touch the sky,

With purpose fierce and passions high.

Beyond the doubts that hold us tight,

Dreams guide us through the darkest night,

They bring us comfort, love, and peace,

And from our fears they grant release.

So hold onto your dreams, my friend,

And let them carry you till the end,

For in their grasp you'll find the key,

To unlock the boundless possibility.

In dreams, we find our inner light,

To guide us in this endless night,

So close your eyes and let them soar,

For dreams are what our hearts adore.

~Sakura

https://x.com/pink_mochibunny?s=21

#poem #poetry #literature

[houserosaire]

Prompt #14 Attrition

When he woke the second time to the pricking of Lord Miuex’s claws and the cat’s angry growls Honore already knew what he would find. Once again his dark room was empty of any intruder. Once more the whisper of papers drew his eyes to the box on his desk. It did not surprise him to find it open again, the papers within stirring to the touches of hands he could not see.

Despite his lack of surprise he could not help the dread that settled so heavily in his chest. He scooped Lord Mieux into his arms, not even minding the jabs of the wary beast’s claws into his forearms. There was something almost comforting in that concrete reminder of the cat’s presence. He did not call for his brother this time. Silvaineaux wasn’t home, but even if he had been it was hardly fair to expect him to chase off all Honore’s ghosts as well as his own. 

Instead he simply sat, arms around Lord Mieux’s rigid body, eyes fixed on the moonlit glow of the window beside the desk. If someone had truly been standing there, sifting through the contents of that box their silhouette would have been dark against that field of silver light. There was nothing. At least nothing his own eyes could see. 

But after a long stretch of time, marked only by the steady ticking of the clock beside the bed, the sifting papers stilled. Lord Mieux’s growling died and the cat wriggled free of his arms and wandered off to bathe himself beside the fireplace. Honore wound himself back into the blankets and let Lord Mieux’s calm soothe him back to sleep. Whatever it was had gone.

                                                                   ***

The third time it was simply the sound of Lord Mieux’s angry growling that woke him. When his eyes opened Honore jolted backwards in the bed before he realized the dark shape so close in front of his eyes was Lord Mieux’s  hunched and angry body perched on the pillow. A lashing tail swiped almost against his face. 

Slowly he sat up, turned to the box. He had closed it when he woke the morning before but once again it was open, the papers within stirring. But as he listened there was another sound, the soft scraping clunk of something solid against the wood as if whatever it was had lifted something more solid, set it back into place within the box. Honore swallowed. 

Silvaineaux’s room down the hall was still empty but even if it hadn’t been he could not keep shouting for his brother to set things right for him. He stretched out a hand, settled his palm lightly over Lord Mieux’s tense back, feeling the low rumble of his growls. He was not alone. And he was not a coward. He would not be a coward.

That thought brought with it a small rush of courage to help overwhelm the sick fear the innocuous sound of those shifting papers woke in him. If he could shoot arrows at a dragon then surely he could tell an invisible ghost to go hang. 

Silvaineaux wouldn’t have been afraid, Honore told himself. Even Feli wouldn’t, he was sure. She would have told this whatever-it-was politely but very firmly what to do with itself. Squaring his shoulders he pushed himself to his feet. The papers still stirred but the sound had changed a little and Honore tried not to imagine that it was because unseen eyes had turned to look at him. He was a Rosaire, by love if not by birth, and he was not a coward.

Buoyed by this determination he crossed the room in a couple of strides before the ‘what-ifs’ in his thoughts could catch up with him. Stretching out a hand, he pressed his palm firmly against the wooden lid of the box and slammed it closed. 

The sounds stopped, and Honore tried not to let himself consider the momentary resistance the lid had met as he shoved it down. “No!” He said. “I am not fighting a war of attrition with a bloody box.” He lifted the box from the desk, tucking it into the crook of his arm, and then reached for the door. “I already have enough nighttime troubles and I am not putting up with you too.”

He strode out into the hall, letting the force of his own indignation carry him, and did not stop until he had set the box with a firm click onto a table in the library. “I will get to your box when I get to it.” He said. “And if that doesn’t satisfy you then you can fiddle with it in here all you like. Try to wake up the books! See what that gets you.”

Feeling almost dizzy with his own courage he strode out of the library and closed the heavy door firmly behind him. Something furry darted against his ankle as he started back down the hallway and he almost tipped into the wall before he recognized the soft rumble of Lord Mieux’s purr. 

#FFXIVWrite2022 #Honore #Lord Mieux #In which Honore scolds an inanimate object #my writing #ffxiv rp

[xasha777]

In the remote reaches of Adıyaman Province, where the whispers of ancient civilizations still linger, a haunting legend persisted. The villagers spoke of an otherworldly creature, a demon that rose with the gibbous moon, casting a shadow over the heartland of Anatolia.

Once, every generation, it was said, the creature would come to claim a soul, one that radiated innocence, to sustain its immortality. The elders called it "Karabasan," the dark whisperer, and it was on the night of the harvest moon that it would emerge from the ruins of Perre, a forgotten city buried beneath the crags.

On such a moonlit night, young Elif, with hair like the golden wheat and a dress the color of the twilight sky, wandered away from her village, drawn by a lullaby that no one else could hear. She found herself at the edge of a fallow field, where the old farmhouse stood abandoned, its walls heavy with secrets.

There, before her, loomed the Karabasan, its form terrifying yet entrancing, eyes burning like coals and body woven from the night itself. Its long, sinewy limbs reached out, not in malice, but in a silent plea for the life it had never lived.

Elif, whose heart knew no fear, stood resolute, her gaze locked with the creature’s. She spoke, her voice steady, "I know why you weep, spirit. You are bound to this land as much as the oldest stone and the deepest root. But I will not give you what you seek through dread."

The creature recoiled, taken aback by her defiance. The air grew cold, and the ground trembled underfoot. From the pockets of her dress, Elif drew out handfuls of soil, each grain blessed by the matriarchs of her village, and cast it toward the sky.

The ancient earth mingled with the glow of the moon, and a wind rose, whispering the incantations of old. The Karabasan’s form wavered, caught in the throes of magic it had not felt for eons. "Be released," Elif whispered.

With a piercing howl that fractured the night, the creature disintegrated, becoming a part of the landscape it had haunted for so long. The harvest moon shone brighter, and peace settled over Adıyaman once more.

Elif returned to her village, her spirit unshaken, her courage now a tale for the ages. They say on clear nights when the moon is full and bright, you can still hear the lullaby that called to her, a melody of liberation and the eternal dance of light and shadow.

[mae-we-post-poems]

A Southern Night

Matthew Arnold

The sandy spits, the shore-lock’d lakes,

Melt into open, moonlit sea;

The soft Mediterranean breaks

At my feet, free.

Dotting the fields of corn and vine

Like ghosts, the huge, gnarl’d olives stand;

Behind, that lovely mountain-line!

While by the strand

Cette, with its glistening houses white,

Curves with the curving beach away

To where the lighthouse beacons bright

Far in the bay.

Ah, such a night, so soft, so lone,

So moonlit, saw me once of yore

Wander unquiet, and my own

Vext heart deplore!

The murmur of this Midland deep

Is heard to-night around thy grave

There where Gibraltar’s cannon’d steep

O’erfrowns the wave.

In cities should we English lie,

Where cries are rising ever new,

And men’s incessant stream goes by;

We who pursue

Our business with unslackening stride,

Traverse in troops, with care-fill’d breast,

The soft Mediterranean side,

The Nile, the East,

And see all sights from pole to pole,

And glance, and nod, and bustle by;

And never once possess our soul

Before we die.

Not by those hoary Indian hills,

Not by this gracious Midland sea

Whose floor to-night sweet moonshine fills,

Should our graves be!

Some sage, to whom the world was dead,

And men were specks, and life a play;

Who made the roots of trees his bed,

And once a day

With staff and gourd his way did bend

To villages and homes of man,

For food to keep him till he end

His mortal span,

And the pure goal of Being reach;

Grey-headed, wrinkled, clad in white,

Without companion, without speech,

By day and night

Pondering God’s mysteries untold,

And tranquil as the glacier snows––

He by those Indian mountains old

Might well repose!

Some grey crusading knight austere

Who bore Saint Louis company

And came home hurt to death and here

Landed to die;

Some youthful troubadour whose tongue

Fill’d Europe once with his love-pain,

Who here outwearied sunk, and sung

His dying strain;

Some girl who here from castle-bower,

With furtive step and cheek of flame,

’Twixt myrtle-hedges all in flower

By moonlight came

To meet her pirate-lover’s ship,

And from the wave-kiss’d marble stair

Beckon’d him on, with quivering lip

And unbound hair,

And lived some moons in happy trance,

Then learnt his death, and pined away––

Such by these waters of romance

’Twas meet to lay!

But you––a grave for knight or sage,

Romantic, solitary, still,

O spent ones of a work-day age!

Befits you ill.

So sang I; but the midnight breeze

Down to the brimm’d moon-charmed main

Comes softly through the olive-trees,

And checks my strain.

I think of her, whose gentle tongue

All plaint in her own cause controll’d;

Of thee I think, my brother! young

In heart, high-soul’d;

That comely face, that cluster’d brow,

That cordial hand, that bearing free,

I see them still, I see them now,

Shall always see!

And what but gentleness untired,

And what but noble feeling warm,

Wherever shown, howe’er attired,

Is grace, is charm?

What else is all these waters are,

What else is steep’d in lucid sheen,

What else is bright, what else is fair,

What else serene?

Mild o’er her grave, ye mountains, shine!

Gently by his, ye waters, glide!

To that in you which is divine

They were allied.

#poems #poem #poem post #poetry #writing #literature #long poem #a southern night #matthew arnold #sea #mountain #lighthouse #scenery #life #death #god #europe #grave