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arlana-likes-to-write · 6 months

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A Black Widow Halloween

Family is More than Blood

Summary: Halloween was your favorite holiday. Spooky movies, cooler weather, and you loved watching the leaves change but that changes when you have to go back to the Red Room.

Relationships: Natasha x Yelena x Reader (sisters)

Warning: implied sexual assault, Drekyov is a horrible human and I'm glad he's dead lol, Red Room trauma, panic attack.

Word count: 1.6K

Halloween, Ohio, 1995

“And done,” Melina said. “You can open your eyes now.” You did as you ere told and starred at your reflection. It was Halloween and when Melina and Alexei said you and your sisters could go trick or treating you were surprised and lost for words. The first year they didn’t allow you to out, calming they didn’t know the neighborhood well. But you knew the truth, the Red Room forbade it. So when they agreed to let you go, you and Natasha jumped at the chance. You were going as a vampire, Natasha found a witch costume, and Yelena was going as a fairy. Melina helped you with your makeup, paling your complexion, adding dark eye shadow, and drops of fake blood.

“Thank you, mama,” you said, standing up from her vanity. “It’s perfect.”

“Go change into your costume and tell Natalia I’m ready for her,” You nodded and found Natalia in the kitchen, scarfing down the last of her dinner and ran towards the master bedroom. On the way to your room, you passed Yelena’s. You heard quiet Sniffling from instead which was odd. Her room was always loud with whatever game she made up. “Lena,” you quietly said, walking in. The crying stopped but you heard it from the closet. Gently, you opened the door and found the blonde curled up on the floor. Her fairy costume on minus the wings and tears steaming down her cheeks. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You asked. She wouldn’t answer, her green eyes wide and tiny chest heaving as she tried to get air in her lungs. “It’s me. Y/n. I need you to breath,” you took her hand and placed it on your chest. “Do you feel that?” She nodded. “I need you to copy how I breath, slowly in and out.” It took her a moment but soon her breathing matched yours. Her eyes were bloodshot, dried tears on her cheeks, and snot dripping out of her nose. A little gross but you were more worried about getting her breathing under control.

You sat on the floor, crossed your legs, and held out your hands with your palms facing up. Yelena began to trace each line. “What’s got you upset, little miss?” She shrugged. “Come on you can tell me. I’m your big sister.”

“Monsters,” she whispered. You wanted her to elaborate but you learned to be patient with the girl. Speaking for her or to much caused her to shut down. “What if the monsters come and get me?” Oh, your heart broke on how innocent she saw the world.

“Those monsters are just people in costume they aren’t real,” you told her but she wasn’t convinced. “You know how you like to play make believe. We pretended to be doctors, or fairies, or hikers climbing a dangerous mountain,” she nodded. “Halloween is a big game of pretend and make believe.”

“You promise the monsters won’t get me.” The smile you wore twitched but she missed it.

“The monsters won’t get you while I’m around,” you tickled her sides and she began to giggle. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and put some glitter on.”

“But daddy said no glitter,” you helped her stand up.

Halloween, Red Room

“What dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you smiled. “Now come on!” But the bitter lie tasted sour in your mouth. The monsters she was afraid of weren’t the ones she should be worried about. Those monsters weren’t wearing masks or scary makeup. They were men that ordered little girls to kill and stripped them of their innocence and childhood. You weren’t sure how you were going to protect her from that.

“Do you know what day it is, malen’kiy pauk (little spider)?” Dreykov asked from behind his desk. You stood at attention, arms behind your back and looking down slightly.

“Halloween, sir,” Also almost 6 months since your sisters escaped the Red Room, were free from the clutches of this man. You wondered how they were doing. Did they miss you? We’re they going to try to come back for you?

Halloween, Avengers Compound

“Yes, Halloween,” he stood up and walked behind you. Goosebumps covered your skin at the feeling of his breath. “And I have a very special costume for you to wear?” Costume? You haven’t worn a costume since Ohio when you and your sisters ran around the neighborhood getting candy from every house. You were so filled with sugar and happiness that it was impossible for Melina to get you to bed. For once, you were a real kid. A Widow entered his office with the costume in her hands. “You are going to look absolutely delicious."

“Tony is throwing a Halloween party!” Yelena proclaimed as she opened your door without knocking. Luckily, you were working on your laptop and not doing another serious. It was also the only warning before she jumped on the bed, you moved your laptop in time. “Tony is having a Halloween party.” She repeated.

“I heard you the first time, sestra,” you flickered her for heard and she rubbed the spot with a pout. “What does that have to do with me?” You asked.

“It’s our first Halloween together since Ohio and I want us to do a group costume,” you raised a questioning eyebrow. Holidays weren’t celebrated in the Red room. It was another day to train or an easy eye to sneak into an event. You sighed.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” An evil smile formed on her face. Oh, you were in so much trouble.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” she ruffled your hair. “I have the perfect costume in mind.” She jumped off your bed and headed for the door.

“Yelena,” you groaned. “I do not want to look ridiculous.”

“You won’t! Promise. You’ll look hot.” To be honest, that didn’t make you feel any better.

So Yelena wasn’t wrong, the costume was flattering. It was a purple v-neck dress with red accents. She got a bat shaped necklace and required you to wear red lip stick and vampire teeth. You had no idea who you were supposed to be but it was fun. Like you told Yelena all those years ago, Halloween was a big game of pretend and make believe. Then why did you feel so sick to your stomach? “I can’t believe she got us to do this,” you looked towards your door and saw Natasha. Her hair was back to her red color and curled. She was wearing a navy pant suit with purple finger less gloves. Around her neck was a yellow necklace with a purple jewel. You smiled.

“I’m not,” you straightened your dress before you sat on the edge of your bed. “She was always good at those puppy dog eyes, she got Melina and Alexei to do anything.” Natasha chuckled. “Besides I have no idea who we are.”

“The Hex Girls, they are from a cartoon show,” your sister walked into your room and sat down next to you. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all week.” You sighed, picking at the fabric of your dress.

“Just not the biggest Halloween fan anymore,” you saw Natasha frown.

“What did he do?” She asked. You knew who she was talking about without having to say a name but you remained quiet. With a sigh, she moved you so you were facing her. Natasha held out her hands, palms up, and you smiled at the gesture. You were surprised she remembered. You began to trace the lines on her hand. It helped ground you.

“It was the first Halloween since you escaped,” you began. “He called me into his office and had a costume for me. It was a maid outfit, barely covered anything and he took me to a party,” you sighed. “There were a few other Widows but the guests were people in his inner circle and a few politicians from around the world. I didn’t want to be there and I didn’t want what they did to me either,” your hands were shaking and Natasha grabbed onto them.

“The monster is gone,” she said. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But other people can,” you admitted. She sighed.

“Yes, that is true,” your sister slowly said. “What happened to you at that party won’t happen here. Tony may make a comment but none of them will touch you without your permission, okay?” You nodded. “If they don’t respect that I’ll cut their hands off then their dicks.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Is it your turn to protect me from the monsters?” You teased.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “You’ve done it for to long now it’s our turn.” Before you could respond, there was a knock on your door.

“Looking good, sestras,” Yelena wore a long sleeve green dress and her blonde hair was in two pony tails. Her lip stick matched the color of her dress and she wore a choker and necklace.

“I feel like I should watch the cartoon these girls care from,” you said.

“Yeah,” you stood up. “There better be some good alcohol.” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“We’ll add it to the list. Scooby Doovis a timeless classic,” the blonde smiled. “Are you ready?” Natasha looked at you.

“That’s all Tony spends his money on.” Sometimes you could still feel his breath on your neck. His claws that were so deep inside you that you feared one day he would over power you. As you walked into the party with your sisters by your side and ignored the crude comment Tony threw at you, you felt normal. The monster was gone.

#black widow sisters #family is more than blood au #yelena belova x natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you

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nerdraging4point0 · 2 months

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Blood of Eden // Part Four // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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"You've helped enough."

She snapped, getting up from the floor.

Noah turned the key in the lock, slowly pushing open her apartment door; she walked under his arm like a bridge, not even bothering to look at him. Watching her cradle her wounded limb to her chest as she walked by, he hung his head shamefully.

"Sorry about that."

He wasn't sure she had heard him as she disappeared into her tiny space to a room down the hall, muttering something to herself the entire way. Noah took notice of the mixed-matched furniture, the dark blue loveseat, the cream couch with burnt orange and dark green pillows, and a glass coffee table sitting in the center of the room on top of a worn argyle green area rug.

Scattered along her walls were pieces of eclectic art, large frames filled with a collage of smiling faces of what he presumed were friends and family; it seemed her life had been busy between trips to the beach, theme parks, nights in the clubs, at the bar, graduations and birthdays. The guilt in his chest made him incapable of looking at the pictures anymore; if she'd died on that roof, he would have been responsible for all those people missing her.

He could hear her cursing under her breath, tape ripping, and then the whimpering. He would have offered more help, but she didn't seem thrilled the first time, so he shut his mouth. Propping himself against the wall next to her kitchen, he had a perfect view down the hall and was in the ideal position to defend her front door.

She came out of the room in a new set of clothes, struggling to put her arm through the sleeve of her khaki hoodie.

"Oh," she sounded disappointed. Her face was pale, barely capable of keeping her eyelids open as she shuffled her way down the hall. "You're still here."

He stood by as she entered her kitchen, searching her counters before opening the fridge. It was practically empty, but she didn't seem bothered. Jolly always kept their fridge stocked with Noah's favorite things; he was always curious when Jolly found the time.

"I need a shot," she mumbled.

"You shouldn't drink. Your blood tastes terrible." Noah offered.

She paused. The fridge door hung open before closing it, slowly shaking her head. She opened a cabinet above her sink and pulled down a large teal plastic box. Noah stepped closer, watching her pull supplies from the old container: a few gauze pads, a wipe, some type of blue elastic, and a syringe full of a neon purple liquid.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Something that's going to make you go away." He could hear the tears in her voice. The beast inside him whimpered. She turned around and jumped back, nearly dropping the syringe on the floor.

"What?" he stepped back, startled by her reaction. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"It's PTSD. PTSD and hallucinations. It's not real. Go sit down." Noah got the sense she wasn't talking to him. Grabbing the syringe and her supplies, she stepped past, avoiding him, to sit on her couch. Rolling up her sleeve, she expertly secured the elastic around her arm without even opening her eyes. Noah took a seat on the couch next to her, watching as she felt around in the crook of her arm, grabbing the syringe and lining the needle with her pulsing vein.

"Why do you do this?" he asked.

"To survive." she sighed, letting the needle pierce her skin and drain the fluid in her veins. He felt the urge to put his head in her lap, have her stroke his hair, and find ways to comfort her.

Removing the needle and setting it on the table, she teetered a bit before slowly lying on her left side, pulling one of the pillows under her head.

He watched as she fell asleep with little effort, the soft snores evidently meaning she was exhausted. Noah picked up the syringe, unscrewed the needle, and brought the contraption to his nose.

He recoiled instantly at the smell, a toxic earthy scent; this is what is making her blood taste so bad. What could she possibly need it for?

Picking himself off the couch, he wasn't sure what to do, his feet drawn to the box still sitting on the kitchen counter; looking into her box, he saw two other syringes with that purple concoction at the bottom. A small stack of bills was folded in half in the side pocket. Was she dealing or just buying?

Turning to the sleeping beauty on the couch, she looked nothing like the photos on her walls. Sure, her hair was longer, but it was dull; she was obviously curvy, maybe voluptuous; now, as she lay on her couch, she looked like a shell of her former self. Looking at her face, he could tell it had been a while since she smiled. Deep grooves under her eyes from lack of sleep and stress make the lids heavy over her brilliant-colored eyes. As the hours passed and he watched her sleep, the drive and urge to be near her faded; he missed Jolly and wanted to go home.

He dropped her keys on the table, locking her door on his way out. He took a leisurely stroll on his way back home. He wanted to go home, but something was driving him to go back; passing a corner vendor selling tacos, he stopped to pick up a few. Sitting at the makeshift bench, the taco truck had set out, he enjoyed his lunch, taking down the eight tacos without a breath. He was famished between the morning's distractions and a frustrated state of mind; he'd skipped breakfast.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled out the black device; its thin body barely fit in his hand as he slid open the screen to reveal his texts.

Where'd you run off to?

Jolly's text was declamatory. Noah slipped a finger through the ring of his collar. Jolly knew where he was, and he always would. Collars were equipped with the finest tracking system in the city; not even underground trams interfered with their transmission.

Needed a walk. And food.

West 42nd seems like a long walk for food.

Noah hadn't realized how far her apartment was from home; as he turned around, he discovered he couldn't even see the skyscraper through the surrounding buildings. Shocker.

Had to clear my head.

Oh, pet. Was I harsh?

Harsh? No, it was well deserved; Noah disobeyed the rules. Seemed fair he would be punished for it.

No, not at all

Have you been following Rule #3?

Noah could feel the twitch in his pants, the blood rushing between his thighs, reminded of the way he'd been left this morning. Again, Jolly would know if Noah had tried. The collar tracked his vitals, offering a full report to his master every six hours.

Yes, master.

Good boy. Come home. I work late tonight, but I will take care of you.

Noah never got up and tossed away his trash so fast.

Jolly straightened up in his office chair, resting his elbows on the clutter surrounding his desk. It was late. Noah had left on duty hours ago, and their home was quiet. Noah was constantly pacing the house, blasting his music, and maybe even watching TV in two rooms simultaneously. Jolly would often sleep when he was out on duty, but he'd been hard at work tonight. His vision blurred; when he closed his eyes and rubbed the corners, he could still see the spreadsheets of costs, budget, inventory, and plans for the lab experiments all over his desktop screen.

He was sick of working the numbers for the fourth time today. Something wasn't adding up; it hadn't been for two months now; it was minuscule at best, a few hundred here, a few hundred there. But without getting to the root of the problem, it continued to grow, and soon, they would be overrun in debt if it didn't get managed. Against his better judgment, he'd used money from his own account to balance out the difference, hoping it wouldn't bite him in the ass later.

A new window popped up on his screen, a red dot pulsing on a grid he recognized as the city.

Noah.

He opened the new screen, seeing the subtle alert that Noah had left his post. He'd crossed over to the next block and was still going; Jolly clicked open the tab holding the city's main alerts, observing the bank security; no breach. Jolly clicked into Noah's tracker, reviewing his vitals in real-time. He could see his heart rate increasing and his oxygen steady, with no log of wounds.

"Where are you going?" he whispered to himself.

When the red dot stopped at the corner, Jolly pulled up his phone, dialing Jethro's number. Two rings and the security man answered.

"Get me all the angles for 24th and Woodman." Jolly barked, and a few loud tappings on the other end of the line came through the receiver as Jethro worked his magic.

"Sharing."

One large image cut into a grid of four different angles popped up on Jolly's screen. He threw his phone on the desk, lacing his fingers together to rest under his chin as he watched.

She was climbing into a horticulture shop, disappearing behind their chain link fence. And there was Noah at the corner. Patiently sitting on his haunches, his head tilted as he watched her. Jolly punched in a few codes, just a few things that Jethro had taught him. He wasn't a tech man but a quick learner when he needed something and didn't want to bother anyone.

The codes rewound the security footage, zooming in on the girl climbing the fence. Long dark red waves tied back into a ponytail, dark jeans, and a hoodie with a backpack hanging off her shoulders. He watched as she winced each time she used her right arm to scale the fence, rubbing her shoulder as she jumped to the ground again.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one?" Jolly hummed to himself.

He let the footage play out, maybe twenty-five minutes before she was back, scaling the fence again to leap down onto the sidewalk as before.

She lost her footing, falling back onto her ass. Off his haunches in an instant, Noah closed the distance between them; she panicked, scotting herself back till she was caged in by the fence she'd just climbed. Jolly watched as Noah approached her, his head hung low, ears up; when she scrambled again, he lowered onto his front paws, bowing in front of her as he scooted closer.

She remained still, watching Noah with intense eyes. He was close enough that if he lashed out a paw, he'd scratch her face. Instead, he dropped his head into her lap. They stayed still for several minutes, Noah's tail slowly swishing from side to side. Jolly watched as her hand reached up, hesitating over his head.

"That's it, pretty one. He likes his ears scratched."

She obviously didn't hear him, her hand slowly lowering onto his pet's head anyway, touching Noah's ears, giving them a tentative scratch. Jolly watched Noah's vitals, his heart rate lowering and his breathing steady. His tail wagged as he leaned into her touch.

Suddenly, Noah was on his feet, turning to look behind him. Another hunter had come around the corner; Jolly's monitors showed Noah's heart rate skyrocket and his adrenaline surge.

Noah followed his fellow hunter as they scurried back to their posts, turning once to look over his shoulder before darting off. Jolly's eyes remained fixed on the girl still sitting on the ground, zooming in on her face.

"What a mystery you are, sunshine."

#bad omens cult #bad omens #bad omens band #noahsebastian fanfic #joakim jolly karlsson smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #joakim jolly karlsson fic #noah sebastian smut #urban fantasy #dark romance #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #jolly karlsson #romance #bad omens au #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #blood of eden

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amberlide · 1 month

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Reflection

Pairing: Imelda Reyes/Nerida Roberts Tags: Fluffy romance, broken friendship, found love, love confessions, first kiss Word count: 5.5 k Tag: @libellule-ao3

AO3 link: here :)

A/N: this is my first F/F! I wanted to investigate why Imelda and Nerida weren't friends anymore and give a bit more insight into Nerida's secondary quest. I want to thank Shivvy for the amazing beta reading!! <3

@theladyofshalott1989 can you put put the AO3 link in the queer fic list, please? :) when you have time of course!

Faster.

Imelda leaned on her broom, tightly gripping the handle with her bare hands. Her chest rested on the hard wood, her chin almost touching the smooth, polished surface. A sly grin painted on her flushed face, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes from the unrelenting wind.

As the forest trees darted beneath her, she plunged even lower, the undergrowth becoming just a splash of green and brown in the corner of her watering vision.

Faster.

She hooked her legs around the tail of the broom, knees pressed firmly together.

The surge of adrenaline coursed through her body as she swayed to the right just in time to avoid a solitary tree in the middle of the path.

A perfect move for a perfect rider with the perfect mount.

Mr. Weekes wasn't joking about how amazing his new update was.

At this rate, nobody would beat her record in the flight trials.

The vicious smile on her face widened; she would be the only one at the top of the ranking.

Soon, the castle came into view. Its majestic reflection waved over the Black Lake, basking in the glow of a warm summer afternoon with its pinnacles and towers.

Imelda lowered herself, sprinting toward the lagoon, the surface rippled by tiny waves brought by the wind. As the familiar emptiness in her stomach greeted her, she closed her eyes for a split second, savoring the cold splashes of water on her face. Her heart beating thunderously in her ears as the tips of her feet brushed against the surface.

It was the best feeling ever, being so free and so empowered at the same time.

Competing against others made her feel strong and powerful, but competing against herself made her feel alive.

Her best time on that same course was from last week, and now she was ready to beat it again.

A distant shout reached her buzzing ears, and she grinned, recognizing the voices of her teammates. They would never catch up to her; she was the Icy Queen of the Pitch.

It was time to show those dung heads why she was their captain.

She snapped her eyes open, ready to take a turn around the castle, zigzagging around the towers. She perhaps even startled some first years as she headed for the Quidditch pitch.

At the thought, she chuckled under her breath, feeling the rush of the wind against her face, reddening her cheeks and making her skin tingle.

Victory tasted like sweat, salt, leather, and wood polish.

Exhilarated by the moment, catching a glimpse of some students sunbathing along the lake's shores, Imelda didn't waste a moment to showcase her abilities.

Even if the race wasn't over yet, why not celebrate in advance something she would win anyway?

After all, her grandfather hadn't spent all that time teaching her during summer and winter breaks just so she could fly like a boring Fwooper, no.

She was a Jobberknoll. A silent threat.

She inhaled deeply, the salty scent filling her nostrils and tickling her nose. Then, she leaned to her side, as if poised to fall, only to swiftly jerk her hips and execute an impressive, swift maneuver—a complete turn on herself, writhing like a snake again and again at least three times. For a split second, her long ponytail coiled around her, her cloak enveloping her slender body in a mixture of green and silver. She could hear the spectators holding their breath, their eyes wide in astonishment, releasing a "oh" of admiration followed by a flurry of applause.

It was the weaving serpent, a corkscrew acrobatic move that her grandfather had taught his son first and then her, the hallmark of the Reyes family. Her father had demonstrated it multiple times after successful victories on the Quidditch pitch. And she was certainly no different.

As Imelda got back on course, her head light and dizzy from the sudden movements, she turned slightly toward her left, an involuntary and almost imperceptible tilting of her head.

Her gaze darted for a second to the Boathouse, where a small figure was hung by the pier.

She snorted.

Dawdling.

Like every afternoon, she was still there, but this time she wasn't huddled over, checking her reflection on the water; instead, she was standing on the low stone curb surrounding the dock.

What was she doing?

As Imelda approached the cliff to which the castle was clinging, a wave higher than the others hit the shallow rocks below her, splashing water onto her face and entering her nose just as she was about to turn around, convincing herself that she didn't care about the figure.

She sneezed.

Immediately, her broom decelerated and the handle lowered, almost brushing against the water as someone zoomed next to her in a whirlwind of green and black.

"Hey Reyes! Keep your ass busy showing off! I'm going to win this!"

Imelda gritted her teeth and regained control of her mount. She jerked it upwards, desperately gripping the handle and digging her fingernails into her white, sweaty palms.

"Sure, Sallow," she cried, rising again. "In your dreams!"

As she swayed to the right to turn around the castle, the girl couldn't help but cast another curious glance towards the Boathouse.

The figure shed her cloak. Then raised her arms.

Imelda squinted her eyes. Was she going to dive? Did she finally learn how to swim?

Swinging her arms in the air, after a moment of clear hesitation, the small figure hunched and jumped, plunging into the dark waters below.

Imelda held her breath and widened her eyes as she kept turning her head behind her, checking if the figure was coming back, while hurtling toward the Quidditch pitch.

Five seconds. Ten seconds.

She was already so far away that she couldn't distinguish anything anymore. The surface of the lake was just a dark mass, a bottomless pool. Her pulse quickened.

Twenty seconds.

She swerved, turning abruptly. She hadn't resurfaced from the water yet. Why?

To her surprise, Imelda found herself anxious to know whether the figure was going to make it or not. Thirty seconds.

She had made her decision.

Without much hesitation, Imelda lurched forward towards the Boathouse.

"Cap! The Quidditch pitch is on the other…" But the rest of the words got lost in the howling wind.

Imelda didn't care about the race anymore.

"Damn Roberts!" she thought, her eyes darting around, flashing on the surface.

"If she's pulling my leg, I'm going to drown her with my own two hands!"

But Nerida wasn't coming back up.

The only movements on the Black Lake were the constant washing of the waves, sweeping over towards the Boathouse. What should have been the soothing, rhythmic sound of the undertow resonated inside her like an eerie call from an ancient cult, echoing her fears and heightening her senses.

Imelda hovered over the surface, lowering herself until her feet touched the water, the moisture seeping through her shoes making her shiver in discomfort.

"Roberts!"

But only the croaking of the wooden boats answered her call.

She took a deep breath, her hands clammy from the strain of holding the broom, her shoulders tense, and her face and hair damp from the constant splashes of water. On the side of the Boathouse were Nerida's bag, her shoes, and the bundle of her cloak.

Still, no sign of her.

"Nerida!" she cried again, her anguish increasing, her heart beating in her temples, making her stomach churn and her mouth dry.

Biting her tongue in frustration, Imelda approached the pier.

She hastily dismounted. Abandoning her broom against the wall, she kicked off her shoes and got rid of her cloak. Finally, taking a running start and a deep, desperate breath, she dove headfirst into the lake.

The chilly, murky water welcomed her in its cold embrace.

Imelda widened her gaze, ignoring the darkness pressing on her eyes. She started scanning her surroundings, adjusting to the dimly lit environment. The bright light from the sunny afternoon barely broke the surface; as she dived even deeper, it became too dark to even distinguish the rocks near the cliff.

The rocks!

At the thought, she gasped, losing a lungful of precious air that escaped from her mouth in a spiral of tiny bubbles and danced towards the surface. Her hair swayed around her as she desperately turned around, frantically searching for her friend. Twisting her body and slashing her legs, Imelda tried to avoid being pushed up to the surface and onto the shore with its razor-sharp teeth ready to maul her.

She felt her clothes heavy, dragging her down, while her head was light from the lack of oxygen. Bright small flashes pulsed in front of her. Imelda struggled to keep her focus; this was a race she couldn't afford to lose.

As the sounds around her dulled, only the erratic beating of her heart filled her ears. But it wasn't from an intoxicating experience like flying; it was from the fear of losing someone so dear to her.

She just wanted to see the delicious way her friend's freckles twitched when she smiled, just one more time.

Just once more.

Imelda plunged deeper, biting her tongue and cursing herself for not allowing wands during races. She could have done very well with just a bit of light; now, every shadow around her resembled Nerida's slender body.

Uncertain whether to continue her fruitless search or go back up for a quick breath of fresh air, Imelda caught a glimpse of something shining in the corner of her eyes. She turned so quickly that the water swirled into her pounding ears.

"Nerida!"

The silhouette of the girl's body was just a few metres from her, suspended in the dim strip of water just below the surface. Clearly, she had tried to resurface without succeeding.

With newfound hope, Imelda lurched forward, ignoring the pain in her muscles and the aching of her head.

Within seconds, she grabbed hold of Nerida.

She firmly wrapped her arm around the girl's waist and dragged her closer, but the other was limp and heavy from her drenched clothes. Her disheveled hair swayed gently in the current, hiding her face and impairing Imelda's vision.

Imelda gritted her teeth, slashing her legs. A groan escaped her lips, together with another cascade of bubbles; more precious air leaving her lungs. She didn't have much left by now. But she tensed her arm.

She wouldn't let Nerida go.

Not this time.

Imelda brought her left arm up, slicing through that murky wall, then pulled it back with all her strength, propelling forward. Her body screamed from the intense effort, but she could see the water becoming clearer by the second, the feeble rays of sunlight penetrating the surface. She was close; she couldn't give up!

She had endured worse when Quidditch training with her grandfather.

Suddenly, something caught her ankle, dragging her down. Imelda opened her mouth and a silent scream filled the last bubble. She tried to fight, fear and desperation mingling in her already foggy mind.

She could feel a presence next to her, a shadow rising up to her left side. A scaled, translucent arm wrapped around her waist. Imelda tried to fight as the creature pressed against her tired body, but her head was heavy and she didn't have much strength anymore. She soon surrendered to what felt like a sturdy, slimy monster.

The Giant Squid perhaps?

Without much effort, they were propelled upwards by the fast, swaying movement of what Imelda imagined was a tail of some sort.

But Squid didn't have tails.

They soon broke the surface; the brisk air filled Imelda's burning lungs, her nose was sore from the muddy water, and her eyes were stinging. Her ears were assaulted by the rushing sound of the wind meandering through the rocks and the slashing of the waves, and started buzzing. She blinked against the bright light of a dying sun.

Imelda closed her eyes and took in a deep, painful breath while she felt the body behind her gently carrying her and Nerida towards the Boathouse. Once close enough, the creature let go of her, and Imelda gathered enough strength to reach the low stone curb that gently descended into the water.

She groggily moved on all fours in her drenched clothes, dragging Nerida's listless body with her until she collapsed onto the ground inside the Boathouse, coughing and spitting water. The last image imprinted on her eyes was the whipping of a long, bluish tail with almost transparent fins, elegantly swaying in the air before disappearing with a splash into the murky depths.

Imelda shivered and raised her arm to shield her sore eyes from a pesky last ray of sunshine peeking through a fissure in the ceiling of what looked like a moldy and mossy building.

Her body was cold, her fingertips numb. Moving was an endeavor of its own. Imelda tried to swallow, but her throat ached so much she felt tears filling her eyes.

Exhausted and completely breathless, she sensed something next to her, radiating comforting warmth that drew her attention—a small fire in a jar.

A strained smile caressed her burning lips, recognizing the charm as one of Nerida's specialties.

She had witnessed her summoning it countless times during winter, as they always sat together under the arches in the courtyard or in the Slytherin dungeons. Nerida was the type of girl who always suffered from the cold, her nose red and chapped from the chill and the countless sneezes. Imelda's first and last Christmas gift to her had been a pair of warm, hand-knitted socks.

Did she still have them?

A sudden rustle next to her interrupted her thoughts.

As the memory of what just happened flooded her mind, she cracked her eyes open. The hard stone floor was covered in pebbles which dug into her hands, leaving marks as she struggled to raise herself up.

Imelda ignored the soaring pain in her limbs as she turned her stiff neck, scanning the shadowy building with locks of soaked hair plastered to her face.

"Nerida!"

Something slipped on top of her, and through her blurry vision, she soon realized it was her cloak.

"I'm here." A soft, gentle voice responded to her tentative croak.

Her voice.

Within moments, her vision adjusted to the light, and Imelda could discern the figure that knelt down in front of her. A pair of warm, brown eyes, glowing under the inviting flicker of the jar-fire, held a concerned expression. Long, chestnut hair — lighter than hers — was damp and gathered in neat tresses, adorning her slender neck and narrow shoulders. A tentative smile tugged at the corner of thin, chapped lips, and a splash of freckles dusted the bridge of her small nose.

Imelda took in a deep breath of relief, her nostrils filling with the moisture from the lake, the fishy scent from the Boathouse mingling with the acrid smell of tar.

She seemed to be fine.

Imelda then squinted her eyes, frustration soon building up within her.

"What in Merlin's name did you think you were doing?!" she exclaimed, trying to hide her worried tone with a decisive note, but her voice still came out shaky and coarse from all the water she had ingested.

Immediately, Nerida lowered her guilty gaze, her hands clinging to the jar where the small fire was still burning. Its flames cast dancing shadows on her face, its inviting warmth spreading all around them.

"I'm… sorry," the girl murmured, her voice strained and low.

"You better be!" Imelda huffed, "If you don't know how to swim you better stay on solid ground."

Nerida took a deep breath, "I thought I could manage. Adelaide said I improved so much from our last lesson…"

Imelda snorted so loud, she had to dry her nose with the hem of her cloak from the little splash of water that came out of it.

Oakes. Of course, she had to imagine that it was all her fault.

"Well, next time you see her, tell your friend that I almost died because of her!" Imelda shook her head, her drenched hair releasing cold droplets on her neck and down her shirt collar.

“If you wanted to learn how to swim properly, why didn't you…" she didn't finish the sentence and bit her tongue, averting her gaze.

Come to me? Was that what she wanted to say?

Would she have helped her, if she had done so?

Maybe…

Feeling uncomfortable with her own thoughts, Imelda started to busy herself by adjusting her hair. She pulled her disheveled ponytail to the front and reached for the hairband, tugging at it impatiently. "I lost my race, and I almost drowned in the lake," she let it slip with a groan of pain, her soggy hair falling in wet, sticky tresses all over her shirt.

"And all for what?" she continued, passing her hands through her long, dark locks. As she started to rake them, Imelda winced, feeling tight knots under her fingers.

Not hearing an answer, but rather a rustling, she raised her gaze, curiosity piqued: Nerida was hunched over her bag, searching for something. She could discern the shuffling of parchment papers and quills.

Imelda's eyes lingered on the damp shirt clinging to the girl's form. She could make out her corset under her clothes, and the feeble light filtering from the open door in the back made her stand out like a silhouette against the dark backdrop of the stone building.

Swallowing hard Imelda averted her stare just in time, hoping to pass off the flush on her face as the warmth coming from the fire.

Soon enough, after more rustling and bustling, Nerida presented her what looked like a piece of jewelry. It was a silver necklace with a pendant adorned with a greenish stone that gleamed under the flames.

"I went to look for this," she murmured and Imelda realized that the necklace must have been what had caught her attention when she was looking for her under water.

It was what had brought her to Nerida.

"What is that?" she asked, making a half-hearted attempt to hide her growing discomfort by pulling her fingers through her hair with force, working out the tangled knots with impatience.

"It's a Mermish artifact, a gift I went to retrieve form a cave…" Nerida's voice trailed off, "I'm so sorry, Imelda. I didn't want to ask for help. Who would dive into the lake for a lunatic obsessed with merpeople?"

Imelda shifted her gaze from the necklace to Nerida, who was tormenting her hands by twitching her fingers and casting pleading looks while mumbling more excuses and thanking her for saving her.

Soon, the girl found herself torn between the urge to lean towards Nerida to better grasp her words or to hug her in a comforting embrace.

"It wasn't me," Imelda cut her off, "I didn't save you. A mer… something got us both," she murmured, continuing to work on her hair, cursing under her breath every time she pulled a bit too hard.

"Oh!" Nerida exclaimed, sudden excitement lighting up her pale features, "It must have been Melusine. The gift is from them and…" She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she left the jewel on Imelda's lap and raised her arm, gently swatting away the other's nervous hands from her hair.

"Let me take care of it, would you turn?"

Imelda nodded silently and complied, crossing her legs. She felt Nerida drape her cloak over her trembling shoulders before starting to comb her hair with her fingers, gently intertwining them in her locks, carefully avoiding tugging and disentangling them one by one.

Imelda shivered under her touch.

She had forgotten how nice it felt to have Nerida's small hands in her hair. During their first year, the girl had always taken care of it, braiding it in simple yet elegant styles that Imelda secretly loved but never admitted.

She had never complimented her friend for her abilities, and now she regretted it.

She felt her scalp pleasantly tingling under Nerida's soft caresses as she parted her tresses neatly and raked them with the help of a small comb, something she always carried in her shoulder bag in a purse decorated with green stones.

"You're letting it grow, and it suits you," Nerida remarked casually.

Imelda hummed in agreement, feeling suddenly embarrassed by the simple comment.

"Do you remember the last time I did your hair?"

A soft smile formed on Imelda's lips. Of course, she remembered!

"It was before potion class, one of the last days of school," she murmured, memories flooding her mind as if it were ages ago.

"Yes!" Nerida chuckled. "I accidentally put a honking daffodil among the other flowers, and it woke up during class."

"Sharp had a panic attack!" Imelda laughed, recalling the scene vividly. All her classmates had stared at her while the flower kept honking happily in her hair.

Imelda had exchanged a look of dismay with Nerida, but she couldn't be angry. She remembered her friend stifling a laugh, putting her hand over her mouth and closing her eyes, the freckles on her face forming that endearing grimace she was so familiar with.

Was she doing it right now?

She tried to fight the temptation to turn and check, but the soft, enticing chuckle kept filling her ears, and she didn't want it to end with what Nerida might think was one of her sour looks.

"We did have fun!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, we did!" agreed the other, resuming her work and starting to dry Imelda's hair with a piece of cloth.

Imelda closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of being taken care of, but soon, she opened them again. That memory had stirred something else inside her, something she longed to confront Nerida over.

She bit her lip. They weren't friends anymore for a reason, and she knew if she asked, she was going to ruin this peaceful moment between them. Nonetheless, she wanted to know.

Drawing in a deep breath, she asked, "Why didn't you come that day?"

The question hung in the air, stretching the tension between them heavily.

Imelda felt Nerida's hands quivering, brushing her neck as she gathered her locks, her fingertips twitching and lingering on her skin.

"I waited for you all afternoon near the pitch. I thought we were going to fly together during our second year too. You really didn’t have time anymore?"

The silence felt heavier now that she had spoken those words—words she had kept within herself for almost four years now. And a burning question she had never dared to ask.

It was the first of September, and she remembered being so eager to meet her friend again. They had talked about it during the summer holidays in sporadic letters, but soon, Nerida had stopped replying, and Imelda had just hoped she would come to the pitch as they always did during their first year.

Two hours.

She had waited two hours that afternoon until it was so dark she couldn't distinguish her feet anymore. Her hand was so stiff from gripping the handle of her broom that she thought it was grafted to it.

Imelda had kept staring at that piece of parchment for an eternity, struggling to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks, shivering in the autumn Scottish breeze coming from all around the hills.

"I don't have time anymore, I'm sorry."

When Madam Kogawa had found her, Imelda was so worked up that the professor mistook tears of pain for frustration. From that point on, she had always tried to maintain her cold demeanor and unrelenting composure, earning her the name of the Icy Queen.

"You know I'm not jealous of you, right?"

Imelda shivered at the question; Nerida's tense voice was low, almost a whisper.

"Yes, I know," Imelda breathed, fidgeting with the hem of her cloak. "I thought if I started telling the others that, it would be easier to convince myself of my own lie," she explained. Then she turned lightly, trying to catch a glimpse of Nerida's face.

When she did, the girl met her eyes with an apologetic, bittersweet smile that stretched her lips, a silent question in her eyes. "No, it didn't work," Imelda added, averting her gaze and fixing it on a couple of spiders scuttling about on the ground, trying to reach a hole in the mossy stone.

She heard Nerida take a deep breath; the hair around her neck tingled. Nerida asked, ”Do you remember the last day we flew together?"

Imelda nodded.

"It was one of the last days of school. Like now," she murmured, perfectly recalling that warm afternoon and the joyous chatting, excitement filling their minds as they already savored the summer holidays.

"Yes, we went near the lake for a last run," Nerida continued. "It was fun. I had fun," she corrected.

Imelda closed her eyes, waiting patiently; she had never been the patient type.

"But then we dismounted and stood near the shore for a bit, until Madam Kogawa came. She proposed that you join the Slytherin Quidditch team the next year. I remember being so proud of you! You had dreamt about it all year, but there wasn't a free spot."

Imelda nodded again, recalling the moment vividly. It was not every day a professor and a star like Madam Kogawa complimented your skills.

"I remember looking at our reflection in the lake while you were talking to her. I saw a beautiful young girl, so talented, so proud, so amazing in everything…" her voice broke, and Imelda struggled to resist the urge to turn and check on her.

"I… I knew I couldn't be enough for you." Nerida sobbed, passing a hand under her eyes.

"I was afraid you would grow tired of me, of our friendship. I knew once you were on the team, you would be the queen of the team and… I could never hope to reach your level, but I desperately wanted to show you that I was interesting, that I was worthy of your attention."

Her voice broke again, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Imelda could imagine her tormenting her hands as she used to do when nervous.

"So I stopped coming to the pitch. I wanted to tell you, but I felt so guilty. I was afraid you would read in my face what… what I was trying to hide."

"Nerida…"

"And then I joined the Crossed Wand club!" The high pitch of Nerida's voice thrilled in her ears. The sudden change made Imelda jolt.

"I thought I could still show you that I could make it. I could compete as well! But then you became the best player on the team, then Quidditch captain, and then you won the Quidditch Cup last year. It was suddenly too much to bear… so I preferred to keep quiet and just watch you from the bleachers."

"Or from the pier," Imelda interjected, trying to keep a casual tone.

Nerida gasped. "You… you noticed?"

"Of course. Why do you think this is my favorite course for my races?"

Nerida blushed.

"Why do you think I dropped Divination?" Imelda grumbled, her heart starting to race.

"Because Professor Onai told you you have no inner sight?"

Imelda scoffed. Of course not!

"I… I couldn't stand you and Oakes together. It was painful enough to see you two chatting and giggling during Astronomy. Gossiping and making predictions while stargazing. It felt like a never-ending date between you two," she groaned, biting her lip, realizing she had said too much.

"Adelaide is just a friend…" Nerida murmured, her voice lighter all of a sudden.

Imelda felt her small hands on her back, gently massaging her shoulders. She looked at hers, full of calluses and completely ruined by the sweat from her Quidditch gloves. She would have renounced all of that to have her Rida back just for one day to fly together around the castle as they used to do.

She turned, finally facing the girl.

"I don't know… is she?" Imelda raised her gaze, a tentative question in her brown eyes.

Nerida nodded before taking her hands in hers, gently rubbing her stiff fingers. "Nobody will ever replace you, Imma," she whispered, her eyes filled with silent tears, some shimmering on her eyelashes.

Imelda felt her stomach turn. She hadn't heard that nickname in years, and it warmed her heart to hear it now, from the only person who was entitled to use it.

"I wanted to join you that day. I felt too guilty for leaving you there waiting, so I sent that message… but I didn't have the courage to tell you that…"

She swallowed, meeting Imelda's gaze.

"That…?"

Nerida didn't answer, biting her lip as a solitary tear streamed down her cheek.

"Rida, what did you want to tell me?"

She took a deep breath. "That you're beautiful and strong and amazing, and I admire you so much! You deserve the world, Imma! I don't care what the others say!"

Imelda felt her heart thump in her chest. She knew she was a lot of things.

She was a talented player for Madam Kogawa, bossy and overbearing for her Quidditch team, arrogant for most people in the Gobstone club, and the next star of the Reyes family in the eyes of her grandfather.

Imelda was used to the little compliments people gave her, usually about her abilities on a broom and as a Quidditch player. But never, never had she imagined she could be beautiful and strong and amazing… for someone she liked as much as Nerida.

The very person who patiently endured her swinging moods, her occasional bitchy attitude. The girl who never failed to amaze her with her ability at Wizarding Chess, and always took care of her with small endearing gestures like styling her hair or trying to make her laugh with innocent pranks.

How could she not be impressed by her resolve to be a liaison to Merpeople?

She even learned how to speak mermish!

She felt Nerida’s warm little hand gently stroke hers, squeezing her fingers together, catching her attention. Imelda's tanned, ruined skin was a stark contrast against her pale, delicate fingers.

"I miss you, Imma," she murmured, tilting her head, tears staining her pale cheeks.

Imelda leaned forward, the last rays of a dying sun penetrating through the open door behind her, making Nerida's soft hair gleam.

The sprinkle of freckles adorning the bridge of Nerida's nose made Imelda wish she could drown in those cute little spots. She was gorgeous.

By instinct, Imelda took her hand off hers and gently trailed them up, reaching her face. She caressed her cheek with the back of her hand, trying to dry some of the tears, the warm drops dampening her skin. Nerida took her hand when she held it to her face, gently tilting her head, savoring her careful touch.

Nerida closed her eyes, and a contented sigh escaped her lips. When she opened them again, a silent invitation lingered in her brown irises, a question that Imelda was eager to answer and didn't want to wait years for.

The girl moved forward, closing the gap between them. When their lips finally met, her pulse resonated with the calm undertone of the waves outside, echoing the turmoil in her chest.

The kiss was gentle, warm, and tender. Imelda could still taste a faint saltiness from the lake on Nerida's chapped lips. It was perfect.

When they parted, they gazed into each other's eyes for what felt like ages, finally reconnecting after all the years they had spent apart.

Suddenly, the light from the small jar-fire dimmed, leaving them in the cold shadow of the building.

Nerida immediately stood up. "Let's go!" she exclaimed with a playful smile, tears still trapped in her eyes, this time from joy. Imelda nodded, following her.

They took a minute to adjust their clothes, putting their drenched shoes back on as they playfully complained about how uncomfortable they felt. Finally, they left the Boathouse, and Imelda reached her broom, mounted it, then invited Nerida to sit behind her.

Soon, they hovered over the lake. "Tell Oakes I will be giving you swimming lessons!" exclaimed Imelda, casting a look down as she balanced the broom.

"Maybe during the summer?" Nerida hummed happily against her shoulder.

"Hey, Reyes!" Someone called for her, and Imelda raised her gaze, surprised to find someone around in the approaching darkness of the evening.

"I won the race!" Sallow’s smile flashed with a smugness she didn't like.

She felt Nerida gently hugging her from behind, her chin resting on her shoulder and her hair tickling her neck.

"I didn't lose anything, Sallow! I gained something better!" she screamed, and with a decisive tug, she commanded the broom to rise, finally darting toward the castle with its stained windows shimmering in the early moonlight.

Their faint reflection in the water perfectly accompanied Imelda and Nerida’s trembling figures, as they were finally together.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #imelda reyes #nerida roberts #hl fics #queer fiction #amberlide writes #HL girls #my fanfiction

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itsmespicaa · 1 year

Photo

"Seeds of Stories, Brought by the Wind..." (part 2/2)

(part 1 here!)

⚠️ Contains Sumeru Archon Quest SPOILER !!!

Fun fact: Nahida’s voiceline ‘When it’s windy’ is: “The wind never blows in the Sanctuary of Surasthana...Oh, sorry. That's probably obvious to you.” I’m not crying what tHE FUC-

The fic continuation of the last page is below :D

------------

Venti shouted, waving and practically flying to her, “Buer!”

It seemed that Nahida had just escaped from a room of her people asking for her guidance and advice on what to do next with the Akademiya, from the way she was stunned at the unexpected call of her true name.

“Eh…?”

Without warning, he grasped her smaller hands in his as the wind sang and blew wildly around them, reflecting his unrepressed joy.

Venti laughed: “Ah…it’s been much too long!”

The Traveler ran to them before looking around, worried that others would be suspicious of the strange interaction of their archon and a strange bard from afar. But it seems most had to cover their eyes due to the strong wind just a while ago, and when they turned to Venti with a raised eyebrow, he just winked at them.

“This hardly seems like a proper place for a reunion between old friends–what say you, oh Dendro Archon?”

It seems Venti’s antics finally caught up with Nahida, who smiled back, albeit more subdued than the former. “Alright. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

~0~

In a flurry of white feathers and verdant leaves, they all reappeared inside the Sanctuary, the quiet ambience enveloping them gently like a cradle to a newborn babe.

“Mm, I haven’t been here in a very long time…” Venti sighed, eyes closed as though to listen even closer to the whispers behind the walls. When he opened them again, his eyes reflected the vibrant green like fireflies at night. “It feels familiar and yet…completely reborn.”

Unbeknownst to any of them, the Traveler’s eyes widened slightly at his remarks, lips shaking slightly with words they’ve agreed to never speak of.

“I guess…that’s what happens when you lose your memories,” Venti finally turned to Nahida with a forlorn smile, who had simply been observing him from beside the Traveler. The Dendro Archon clenched her hands together before walking up to him, meeting his gaze.

“...Barbatos,” Nahida started, “just as the wind blows the seeds of every story all across Teyvat, I’m sure the wind has told you of the story that was uncovered in Sumeru as well. I…I apologize for not greeting you in a manner befitting a fellow Archon, but I would like to extend my hand in friendship once more just as I did all those years ago.”

To her surprise, Barbatos simply giggled, his airy laughter jingling like bells. “I never knew how adorably anxious you felt when we first met~!”

Going down on his knees, he enveloped her gently like a mother bird brooding its younglings, catching the other archon off guard. “And our friendship never ended,” he said, his voice tapering off into a whisper, “no matter where you are in the endless river of time, you will always be a dear friend of mine, Buer.”

Nahida felt…comfort, familiar and oh so warm, an old memory that did not feel hers resurfacing from under the rubble, like a tiny sapling that willed itself to survive amidst the harsh and unforgiving nature imposed onto it.

After a second of hesitation, she returned the hug, burying her face in the awfully familiar scent of dandelions and wind, wanting to keep this feeling with her for eternity no matter what.

But alas, nothing lasts forever.

“I also heard from a certain Traveler,” Venti nodded at the quiet person watching them from a distance, “that the wind…never blows inside this tiny bird cage of yours. I see what you mean now.”

He stood up and summoned his lyre, walking to the middle of the platform, to the place she was trapped in for half a millennium. The place where the wind could not reach, where her tears and anxieties remained unseen and hidden from the world, her fate sealed by the people she was born to protect.

Strumming his lyre, he beamed at her: “Time to correct that!”

A gentle breeze flowed within her former cage, caressing her cheeks and the tips of her feet, bumping into her as though asking her to come play with them. Nahida’s eyes glimmered as silver white wings sprouted from Venti’s back, feathers floating in the air as he sang.

Ah…this voice…

Memories flooded her vision as snapshots of beautiful moments blurred past her eyes, untouched by the ravages of time. The tiny sapling grew larger and larger until it touched the sky above, to where they would return to. Singing together with the Aranara, the gathering of the first Seven, memories never lucid enough for her to see in detail but the emotions. Oh the emotions she experienced then…

(...She?)

Nahida did not realize the tears dripping onto the floor until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, startling her to reality as she watched Venti glide down and extend a hand towards her, a gentle smile on his lips as he beckoned for her:

“Come sing with me? For old times’ sake.”

Ah…How could she refuse?

With a wide grin, she took his hand and sang.

No one but the Traveler and their floating companion would be the witness to this beautiful moment shared between the two neighboring archons, the two old friends separated by time and the earth itself.

One born of the thousands of branches of time, while the other sprouted from the purest branch of an ancient tree.

#genshin impact #venti #nahida #rukkhadevata #sumeru archon quest #archon quest spoiler #ALSO FUN FACT: the ost that played during the mond archon quest played during the nahida rescue scene :) im not crying you are AAAAAAAAAAAAA #I LOVE PAIN WOOOOOOOOOOO #QWQ #THEYRE FRIENDS YOUR HONOR LET THEM MEEEEEETTTT #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #SOBS #im never getting over how neither venti nor zhongli remembers rukkhadevata i cant do this yall ;-;#also in case that wasnt obvious; venti slowed down time for a bit to say goodbye to rukkhadevata for the last time before he too forgets ;-;#being a creation of istaroth has both its perks and downsides and venti didnt know what this counted as hhh _(:"

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feeblescholarmyass · 1 year

Text

Chapter One: Tighnari

cw: panic attack/extreme anxiety, y/n is not in their bad bitch era yet so ignore how awkward they are, originally written in 3rd person so there may be some pronoun and grammatical mistakes

Sumeru boys x GN!reader

this was posted super fast because it was prewritten. I am not going to be posting daily!!!

masterlist | next

Chat: Amurta

"To be honest, I'm not all that interested in studying medicine. I think that people should also prioritize mental well-being more than the current culture in Sumeru allows. My professors don't really get that, so I just say I like flowers."

"Are you okay?"

It took you a few seconds to understand what he'd said. You opened your mouth to answer, but snapped it back shut when you felt tears start falling.

He frowned and crouched next to you, tilting his head. He took your wrist and felt your pulse, then sighed. "Oh, I see. You're alright now, don't worry."

You nodded, gulping down a whimper. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't... realize... someone else was in here." You wiped away your tears and took a shaky breath.

Are you kidding me?! We almost made it, stupid! Now you're crying again. You've cried every time you started going to a new school. That's so pathetic, you thought.

"You're fine, don't worry about me. Let me guess, first year?" He tilted his head at you, a small smile making you feel less embarrassed.

"Yeah. This place is so big... I was a little overwhelmed. A lot, actually." You shook your head, steadying your breathing.

"What's your name?" He dropped your wrist and placed his arm on his knee, resting his cheek on his palm.

"I'm Y/n." You tugged at a strand of hair.

"Alright, Y/n. What does your schedule look like? I can help show you around before classes start. You are an Amurta student, yes?" He stood, holding out a hand for you.

You looked up at him and met his eyes. Now that you weren't so nervous, you took more notice of him. He had pretty hazel-green eyes and light green streaks in his dark hair that reminded you of your aunt's hair. A golden earring hung from one of his ears. You remembered his pretty friend from before and felt a small twinge of jealousy.

What in Teyvat are all these boys so pretty for? If everyone at the Akademiya looks as pretty as them, I'll really have to up my game.

"My first class is Honors Phytology II. Here, you can look." You pulled a small notepad from a hidden crevice within the folds of your clothes. You turned to a page with your schedule written out in a neat, color-coded print.

"Hm. Honors II? Impressive, first year." He nodded appreciatively. "Come on, I don't want to cut off our tour because of class."

He opened the door of the copy room, revealing a less crowded common area than before.

You slid some of the fabric of your scarf between your fingers reassuringly. The cold material provided the necessary sensory to keep your mind from spiraling like it had before.

You looked around the room, admiring the architectural work. Sconces formed to look like blossoming vines held the small light sources that made the room practically glow. A miniature fountain surrounded by a concrete sitting area sat in the middle of the room directly underneath a fantastical chandelier. The light from the candles reflected off of the thousands of tiny crystals that drooped from the chandelier in a gravity-defying spectacle. Swirling patterns reached out from the center of the room towards the green pillars that held up the vaulted ceiling and bordered the different hallways labelled alphabetically for the subject and numerically for the floor.

"All classes that have to do with plants are normally done in the greenhouse or the lab in hallway F, which is the only hall that only has one floor. During the first semester, you're largely in the greenhouse." Tighnari motioned towards the hall. "You'll be able to find that pretty easily. As long as you know how to make it back here, you won't have to worry about any shortcuts. Those you can learn later."

"Okay," you said, trying your hardest to pay attention. Processing his words was difficult when you was still fawning over the detail put into the room. You weren't an architect, but you were an artist, so it was only natural that you appreciated something so beautiful.

You lagged further and further behind Tighnari before finally realizing how far ahead he was and hurrying to catch up.

"For the rest of your science classes, you'll be in hallway A, which is just over here. Medicinal classes are upstairs, while other sciences are on the main floor."

"Which stairway should I take? Normally one tends to have more traffic than the other, if it's at all like my old schools." You asked, finally comfortable enough to let your hands fall from their protective position by your neck.

"I'd recommend the first one during most hours, but around the end of the day, the second is probably your best bet. It's a weird phenomena that probably has to do with exhaustion and impatience."

"Hm..." You hummed to yourself, sparing a glance at the boy next to you. If only you had a photographic memory you could sketch his expression.

He stopped in his tracks, noticing your shift in attention. "What is it?"

A rush of heat climbed up your neck. "Oh, um, nothing important. Sorry if I distracted you."

He chuckled, meeting eyes with you. "If anything, I'd say I'm the one distracting you." He had a playful glimmer in his eyes, and you cursed your stomach for the summersaults it insisted on performing.

"Whaaat..? Nooo... I'd never be distracted. Never happened." You rolled your eyes and smiled.

Tighnari laughed. It was a warm sort of sound, one that made your stomach swirl and pulled your lips into a bigger grin.

He really is pretty for no good reason, isn't he? Sigh.

"We should continue our tour. Come along," he motioned them forward. He continued to explain each hallway and what classes it housed, then finally led you towards the lunch room.

It was a room even larger than the one before it. Two floors of open space with a large variety of food available to anyone who was able to pay. You felt terribly small in the huge emptiness. Imagining it being filled with people made you even more nervous.

"For anyone who wants a little more space, there is a small section for eating in the upstairs library. It's a lot quieter, and much less people go in there. Most people are there to continue studying. When do you have lunch?" He asked, leading you in a circle back to the hall.

"I've got a long break between psych and elements. My friend and I both have long enough to eat and take a break."

"Oh? A friend?"

"I do have friends, regardless of what you may think of me." You crossed your arms over your chest. Tighnari paused, conflicted between teasing you and being a welcoming upperclassman. "Her name is Layla. She's a Rhawatist student."

"Rhawatist? That must be an interesting friendship dynamic. One who studies the stars, and another who studies the earth." He let out a breath, relieved that you weren't offended by his words.

You paused and thought about it for a second. "No, I don't think it's all that strange. If anything, I think the combination of our studies would make a great research topic. Hm, maybe I should bring it up with her sometime."

Tighnari checked the time and found himself frowning. He had enjoyed talking with you once you had started to get comfortable.

"We should head to class. If you ever need anything, let me know. I am a TA, so it's my job to help students in need."

"I will. Thank you, Tighnari. I enjoyed talking with you."

"And I-" he paused, realizing he had never told you what his name was. "How did you know my name?"

"Oh," You felt a flush of heat again. You hadn't realized he didn't say it. "W-well, Layla and I were getting breakfast this morning, and we ran into you and some of your friends at a cafe. She told me your names." You tried to sink into your scarf, for once cursing the sheerness of the fabric. If you revealed the reason why you had been asking you just might die right there and then.

He laughed, the sound tickling your senses. "Sometimes I forget how curious you first years are. If you ever want me to introduce them to you, I can."

"Really?" You looked up a little too eagerly. "Oh, I mean, that would be nice. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it, I understand. See you around, Y/n. Enjoy your Phytology class. I think you'll like the teacher."

"You enjoy classes too!" You waved goodbye awkwardly before finally heading towards your classroom. The silent hallway felt oddly stifling without Tighnari's calm commentary filling the space.

"No way, really?" Layla yawned, listening as hard as she could. The poor girl looked about to fall asleep in her lunch.

"Yeah. He was super nice and even offered to introduce me to his friends we saw at the cafe. Would that be weird?" You asked. You had been going back and forth on what to do since the first day of school nerves had calmed down.

You had spent your classes so far writing down necessary materials and little notes to yourself based on first impressions. However, you had found your mind drifting elsewhere. Evidence of your thoughts were left in sketches in the margins of your paper. Rough outlines of Tighnari's hair and ears littered the back of the page you had been writing on.

"Hm, I think it would be fun. Maybe you could get Cyno to let you do a portrait of him." Layla teased. You rolled your eyes and huffed.

"At least I actually took one of the few art classes this school even offers. We don't even have a choir. If I wasn't so sure of what I wanted to do, I might regret my school choice." You tugged at an unruly lock of hair, taking a bite of you lunch.

"Speaking of Tighnari and his friends..." Layla yawned and pointed across the lunch room, where the four boys had just entered from the Kshahrewar entryway.

You glanced up and nearly spat out your food. HE!! IT'S HIM!!! PRETTY BOY!!! Well, pretty boys. Archons, please tell me I'm not making eye contact. I am making eye contact, aren't I? Shit.

You were, in fact, making eye contact. Tighnari smiled and said something to the other three. Then, to your horror, they started walking towards you and Layla.

"Layla. Layla, wake up. Layla. Fuck me, I'm on my own. I'll kill you for this, Layla." You muttered, trying to act like you hadn't been caught staring. I probably look like an idiot, she thought.

When they stopped next to the table you were sitting at, you pretended to be surprised. You looked up and smiled, hoping your nervousness wasn't as obvious as it felt. You couldn't tell if you were just paranoid or if people really were watching.

"Oh, hello again, Tighnari." You wiggled her fingers at him and glanced desperately at Layla. She was out.

"So this is the underclassman you've been going on about?" Cyno asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, this is Y/n. Y/n, meet Cyno, Kaveh, and Alhaitham." Tighnari motioned to the group behind him. "Mind if we sit with you?"

Technically, yes, you did mind. Having people watching you was one of your least favorite feelings. However, you couldn't really say that you would hate being surrounded with pretty men. On the other hand, there was Layla to worry about. She was asleep, and this was a rare opportunity where she had time to rest.

"Oh, please do. I'm Layla, Y/n's friend." Layla spoke, startling you. You shot her a glare that was met with a cheeky grin.

"I see you're awake now. Eat your lunch. I'm not going to make you extra dinner because you slept through lunch again." You prodded Layla's stomach before scooting over to make more room for the boys.

The boys joined them at the circular table. Tighnari sat next to you, and Cyno next to him. The blond one, Kaveh, sat next to Layla, and Alhaitham left. You decided it was best to not question it.

The boys chatted amongst the three of them, and Layla drifted in and out of exhaustion, sometimes lucid enough to come up with a witty response. You stuck to observing the dynamic, committing their mannerisms and speech patterns to memory for future reference.

Listening to Kaveh talk reminded you of reading a romance novel. His prose was lengthy with impressive vocabulary. He brought to mind maple syrup, with his sweet words and lofty ideals. He tended to ramble on about something or other, enjoying the act of talking along with the sound of his own voice.

Cyno's dry commentary was waved off and even discouraged by Tighnari and Kaveh, but sometimes the combination of his dad jokes and blank serious expressions made you chuckle. His sense of humor reminded you of your dad. Every time he made you laugh, it boosted his ego just a little bit. The visible way he puffed up his chest and let an almost-grin pull at his lips reaffirmed your suspicions that he would make an excellent subject of an art piece.

Best of all was Tighnari. From their interaction earlier, you could never have guessed the extent of his sarcasm. For a TA, he seemed remarkably rebellious. In your head, he had been a strange piece in the puzzle of their group. Now, however, you could see he fit in perfectly.

The only remaining mystery was Alhaitham, the boy from before.

Much too soon for your liking, your break between classes came to an end. You bid farewell to your new friends after giving them your contact information, then went on your way.

You entered the hall towards the Haravatat building, excited for your language class. Throughout school, your language classes had always been your favorite. The challenge of translating back and forth until you fell into an easy familiarity with the words and sounds of a language brought you almost as much comfort as your art class did.

This year, you were finishing the available classes for Fontaine's ancient language. Names from Fontaine had confused you to no end until she started taking the class. It wasn't the most sensible language, and your pronunciation was finicky at best, but it was a welcome difficulty. In comparison to some of your Amurta classes, it was much less dull and required a lot less group work. It was perfect for a chance to relax after lunch.

You made note of the architecture in Haravatat just as you had in Amurta with Tighnari earlier. Where the accents had been green in Amurta, here they were a dark grey. There was much less living greenery ornamenting the halls, and the lights had to be brighter to make up for the lack of brightening decorum. The harsh shine of the fluorescent lights gave you a headache.

Students here carried more textbooks than anything. The lack of precarious experiments allowed you to be less cautious while wandering in an attempt to find your classroom.

You waved your way between students who were gossiping in various languages, and finally saw the right number for your class on the wall. You let out a sigh, relieved that you weren't late.

You opened the door and slipped inside, glancing around to take note of the amount of students in the class. There weren't many, and you didn't recognize those who were there. In one of the back corners, a group of a few people stood and chatted. You made sure to choose a seat across the room from them. You sat more towards the front, but not too close for comfort.

You placed down your bag and grabbed at your scarf. You smoothed it down and checked for any loose strings. When you had assured yourself that everything was in its place, you let yourself relax.

The classroom itself had very little decoration. There was a painting of Fontaine on the front wall, but that was about it.

You sighed sadly, longing to return to Layla and your new acquaintances. At least, at the end of the day, you would be able to go home and eat the congratulatory dinner you had been planning for weeks.

You drifted off into a daydream about the foods you would be able to eat, and how amazing your sleep would be after the day's exhaustion.

Your fantasy was interrupted by a harsh voice from behind you.

"You're not from Haravatat," the voice said. It took you a moment to register what had been said. You turned to look behind you to figure out who had spoken.

You twisted around to get a good look at the person, and felt your heart leap. Fucking hell, fate is surrounding me by pretty men on purpose. I can't tell if it's a blessing or a curse.

There, placing his books on the seat behind her, was the boy that had silently left the group during lunch and never returned. His pretty blue-hazel eyes bored into your own, and you watched a strand of silver hair brush against his cheek before settling against his ear.

You swallowed, hard.

"Oh, Alhaitham, it's you."

taglist: @em-asian @hypernovaxx

let me know if you want to be added!

#Alhaitham #tighnari #cyno #kaveh #alhaitham x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #kaveh x reader #x reader #genshin impact #fanfic #🪻ash writes

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albondiguilla007 · 27 days

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Wanted to share this Golden trio fluff:

Who was Harry Potter anyways? The Chosen One? The Boy-who-lived? The Saviour and Golden Boy of the Wizarding World?

Did the press actually got it right when they wrote pieces about him? Could they know what kind of person he was just by the major events of his life? Coul I?

Did Hermione and Ron knew who his best friend was? During those nights filled with dread when the dead became living and the living bled to death in the most excruciating ways, when they were there for him, did they know?

When they took my hand and slept right there besides me, whispering sweet nothings until I fell asleep again. Could they describe who I was with the same certainty one would talk about the lush and green hills in Scotland?

Mione watched me with that look of hers, one of unwavering faith, her eyes softening as she lulled me to sleep. The moonlight filtered through the tiny gap between the curtains back in my room in Grimmauld Place, illuminating the seven freckles scattered in her nose and cheeks. A hundred years could pass and I’d still be able to trace those freckles to memory, like one traces the starts and constellations in the nightsky. She’d stay there for hours, stroking my hair and drawing silly patterns in my skin, like a mother would. Soft fingertips and soothing lullabies.

With the tenderness of a mother, the devotion of a lover and the undying loyalty of a friend.

In those moments I could be sure of one thing:

Hermione Granger knew exactly who Harry Potter was, his best friend, the person looking back at her with grief and open adoration.

And Ron. Ron held me while Mione grounded me and brought me back to Earth with them, soft breath tickling my neck. He was too tall for the bed so his feet stayed dangling in the edge most of the times.

Ron was home, Ron was family. Ron was the first person to ever say I love you, his chubby cheeks bouncing as he smiled, honest in his love like only kids are. There wasn’t much of that Ron in the 6’2 ft tall man that layed besides me, except maybe his eyes. They were blue, blueblueblue, round and big and completely sincere, every emotion he felt reflecting back on them. Violent but oh so soft. I’d never seen the ocean, but I reckon that’s how they looked like.

His presence was enough to make the world stop spinning, so he stayed with us, a hand in my arm or a leg tangled between Mione’s, always touching, his silence saying more than a million words could.

I’m not going anywhere Harry. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever again.

But so they knew? Did they even care?

You’re every Harry love, the ones you like and the ones you don’t

Harry Potter was the guy that passed the Auror official test in record time. The one that later on had a flashback in the middle of a raid and almost got everyone killed

Harry Potter was the man who stayed alone in New Year’s Eve changing napies and falling asleep besides his godson as he burnt in fever

It was the five year old boy that one day came home from school with a carefully written card he’d dedicated to his aunt on Mother’s Day

It was the boy who loved to fly, that felt more free in the air than any place on Earth, that enjoyed the breeze against his hair and the feeling of wood under his fingers

It was the man that spent half a year in muggle parties with his best friend’s sister fucking his way through London, high with the thrill of anonymity and pissed out of his mind

The person that loved to control, to humiliate and to hurt, the man more scared of his own impulses than he was of any threat out there

The one that stood in front of Voldemort when he was 17 and killed him like he was born to do so

Harry Potter was the man scared of dark and cramped spaces, the man that fell apart in his best friends’ arms and sobbed for hours like he couldn’t do anywhere else

It was the little boy who looked just like his father, that had his mother’s eyes

It was the man who loved with every fiber of his being, that loved and loved like it was a race, that burned and consumed and desperately wanted to be loved back. It was the man that remembered Molly’s favorite way of taking tea, that visited Goerge on the weekends at the shop, the one that discussed muggle phones with Arthur. It was the man Andy could always remember his daughter with

Harry Potter was the boy that walked to his death on a cool May evening because he loved, and wanted his friends to live and to be happy more than he wanted it for himself

And so Hermione stroked his hair, and Ron hid his face in the crook of his neck, and so they’d remind him.

I love all of them Harry, each and one of them

You’ve carried enough burdens mate, leave some of them to us alright? We’ll carry them too

Harry Potter was Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley’s best friend. And sometimes, that was enough.

#harry potter headcanons #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #ronald weasly is a good friend #golden trio #golden trio fluff #fluff #a bit of angst #post war #auror harry #fanfic #harry potter needs a hug

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struggles-and-prose · 8 months

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Ghost Files Season 2 Analysis 👻

The 2nd season of Ghost Files just came out, and oh boy was it good. There were a few things that Ryan wasn't sure what it was, and quite frankly, some of them I just wonder how did he not see it lol. So here are some key points from the 1st episode of the 2nd season that I thought I might just clarify or give my take on.

So 1st up, is @ 5:47~, where Ryan's flashlight begins to flash randomly. Shane mentions there might be a strobe mode and even jokes about it being morse code. But the truth is, and this is a fact, because I own one of those, it is morse code for S.O.S.

If you noticed, it flashes in a pattern and on repeat. For those who don't know morse code, it might be hard to even notice the pattern, but I'm telling you, that's what it is lol.

Morse code for S.O.S. is ...---... (which translates to "short, short, short, long, long, long, short, short, short" in terms of lengths). Basically, morse code consists of patterns of short and long sounds or in this case, light flashes. Each pattern is equivalent to a letter of the alphabet or numbers and even symbols like a question mark or a comma or even a dot which, believe it or not, is not translated by just a dot, lol. A single dot is actually and E. The pattern for a dot however, is ".-.-.-". Yeah, I know. A bit dumb if you ask me lol.

Here's a full list of morse code for reference.

And here's Ryan's flashlight pattern. Might be hard to notice, but trust me, I recognise an S.O.S. code anywhere.

The 2nd part I want to talk about is more of a hypothesis. It's @ 13:23~, when Ryan here's a faint noise which to me sounded like someone getting punched in the stomach lol. But thoughts are, it's maybe a bird from far away, which maybe echoed in a weird way when it got to our ghoul boys.

Next his @ 16:01~, when Ryan uses is SLS cam and both he and Shane see what they call a "little tiny guy" lol.

If you look to the top right part of their screen, you see the surroundings a little better than on the left screen.

If we look closer, there's actually a bar under where the figure is standing. Now, the SLS cam is made to detect humanoid shapes. So if it detects an animal, chances are, you're still going to get a human figure. My thought is that it's maybe a bird. You even see some green on the bar where it is, indicating the thing it's detecting is holding on to that bar. Just a thought, but it's the most logical explanation I could come with.

Next up, is @ 19:35~ and @ 19:41~. Ryan claims something with glowing eyes passes by.

Now, sorry to burst your bubble here people, and sorry Ryan, but that's just a raccoon or a very fat cat, but I'm more inclined to say that it's a raccoon. When it walks by, you can clearly see it's walking on four legs and it has a puffy tail. Maybe not on the GIFs here, but on the video, you can see it better.

Nocturnal animals have what's called a tapetum lucidum, which is a reflective structure that reflects light to help them see in the dark. Are their eyes actually glowing? Not really. It's just a reflection of the light. So when you see a cat outside or even your pet cat, you can see their eyes glow in the dark, which is a little freaky indeed lol. I know that when I get up in the middle of the night and see 2 glowing eyes in my goddamn hallway, it makes me jump when all it is is my cat who's freaking adorable normally, lol.

Now, where's this light actually coming from in the video? I don't know, but it looks like it's near a door to outside the building so, possibly the light from the moon.

Next is @ 19:50~, the same footage with the raccoon, where Ryan says you hear footsteps and someone tampering with the camera and then someone saying "I'm here". Footsteps didn't sound like human footsteps if you ask me so, I think it's the raccoon walking or whatever. The "tampering" of the camera and the "I'm here" is merely said raccoon taking a look at said camera, probably gripping it with his claws for leverage and the "voice" is the raccoon sniffing or breathing. That's it, nothing more.

And last but not least, @ 20:06~, which is again the same raccoon footage. When we see a small ball of light that looks like it just jumps, again, animal that passes by fast or turns its head in a weird angle or whatever. And the clank, it jumped and its claws made the noise or it hit something.

So here you have it people. My analysis of today's video. I think it's safe to say that I'm a Shaniac x). And with that, here are some moments I found funny that I made into Gifs. Enjoy!

I just like how proud he looks XD

Daddy Shane XD

Or whatever is happening here lol

Or here XD

Shane, what the hell are you doing? XD

And that's all folks! x)

youtube

Go watch it if you haven't yet!

#canada #montreal #quebec #ghost files #ghoul boys #watcher #wearewatcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #shaniac #boogara #Youtube

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ceph-the-ghost-writer · 1 month

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Happy STS Ceph! If someone was looking for your characters, how would they describe them to people? What features would they most pick out to distinguish them from a crowd?

Isaac: His messy black curls are probably the best way to spot him. Not messy as in stylish bedhead, but as in oh, this man is on the brink and desperately needs help with self-care. (It's not until Dorian coaxes him into it that his hair starts to become noticeably healthier and eye-catching for other reasons.) Elfy describes his fashion sense best: Mexican grandpa and/or country veterinarian. That is, flannel/plaid shirts (buttoned all the way to the collar in Isaac's case), and old jeans that don't fit him well at all. Again, it's not until Isaac starts rebuilding and maintaining relationships with others that this changes. 9 out of 10 times you'll catch him with his eyes glued to the screen of his tab, doing something work-related.

Renato: If you meet a man who makes you forget every warning your common sense screams at you, you'll know you met Renato Faria Dimas. Of course the blue-green color of his eyes gets the most attention. Though he acts like this is tiresome, he goes through a lot of effort to groom his brows and hair as well as pick clothing colors to show them to their best advantage. He's a dating sim character come to life: handsome, charming, seductive, and definitely hiding more than meets the eye beneath the pretty façade. Dimples are another weapon in his arsenal he uses to devastating effect.

Dorian: Critics rave 5 stars, want to hug and/or cuddle with them on first meeting. Dorian exudes a love for life and the topics they're passionate about which is downright infectious. Their peacoat is legendary, though they do wear other hoodies and sweaters depending on the season and conditions. They've loved having their hair braided since they were very small, and continue to make an event of it as an adult, with food and movies and drinks with family and friends all day. They also really like the freckles across their face and shoulders, if you're one of the fortunate few to see those. You may have to wade through a sea of their other admirers to get to them.

Kinslayer: Isaac wasn't exaggerating when he described meeting their gaze as staring down the barrel of a rifle. Their eyes are an utter shade of black, reflecting no light whatsoever. Kinslayer has worn many faces and experienced life in all sorts of bodies, but this feature remains a common denominator no matter what they look like.

Elfy: She's the tiny woman with all the piercings, the mop of reddish-brown curls piled on her head, and who's vibrating like a rocket about to take off, unable to keep still. Can't miss her.

Ben: They just don't make 'em like this nowadays. He looks like a thug or back alley boxer from a movie set during the Great Depression because, well, that's kinda what he was. His size, the broken-one-too-many-times nose, and scarred knuckles give him a natural intimidation factor. He's quick to smile though, and the gleam in his brown eyes can turn someone's knees from a solid to a liquid even quicker. You know, if big, bi vampire guys are your thing anyway.

Motley/Noose: Its stitched together skin really makes it stand out in a crowd. Even its sunken eyes are unusual amongst necromancers, smoldering with a sullen red light rather than being the dull, lifeless gray of something that's been preserved in a jar of alcohol. Of course, it could very well be disguised as that stray dog trotting down the street. Or a white-faced barn owl in the tree outside the window. Or--goodness forbid--somebody you knew.

Breezy: One of the three weed-smoking girlfriends, now semi-retired in her 60s and versed in witchcraft. When she feels like wearing clothes, she could be in full, flowing ren faire garb or a pair of denim overalls for working in her garden. (Has a pretty nice tan, given her nudist tendencies.) She might braid her long white hair, but more often than not leaves it in loose waves over her shoulders.

#dysthanasia #writeblr #answered asks #storyteller saturday

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when-hyperfocus-hits · 8 months

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PART III of @connectionterminated13 headcanon! This story kind went far from the whole original headcanon, and if you have any suggestions as to where it should go, please let me know! <<PART I>>

<<PART II>>

When we walk out of Freddy’s, the atmosphere is different than before; like the energy in the air before a bad storm.

I rush Cassidy with me, the wind pushing my bangs up and whisking Cassidy’s dark hair around her head.

“So he’s just going to make us walk to his house? Screw him.” I instinctively reach to my coat pocket for the familiar cigarette box. Not now. Don’t need any little kids getting second-hand smoke.

Cassidy tries to pull her hair back as the winds grow stronger while we walk to Henry’s house.

“I think we… make a left here.” I’ve been to his place so many times before, how could I forget? Though… it has been a while since he’s invited me over. He changed completely after that night…

I don’t want to think about that night.

Cassidy pulls me a bit away from the street as more cars pass by. I’ve always wondered how they do that, just pass by without a care about the people they see along the way.

I recognize Henry’s house by its light green color and white picket fence. Despite his house looking perfect, his life was far from it, and you can really tell from the inside.

When I open the front door, the house seems normal, almost untouched by time.

“It’s just as I remembered it…” I say more to myself than Cassidy. Though, the poor girl seems more shocked at the sheer size of the house with its high ceilings and grand wooden staircase.

Despite it only being two floors, Cassidy asks me over and over if we’re in a mansion.

“It’s too small to be a mansion,” I say, looking around.

Some things are of value though, like intricate decorations and silverware shiny enough to see my clear reflection on it.

“Why are you taking those things?” Cassidy asks me from the sofa that looks giant compared to her.

“I’m just borrowing it.”

“It’s not nice to steal…” She wags her tiny finger at me.

“It’s not stealing!” I defend myself. “We need these things to make it out there. Henry was the one who invited us into his house without supervision. He was practically asking for it.”

She doesn’t seem to protest when I jog up the stairs to look for anything else that could be of use. I grab a backpack big enough to put in my findings.

His study is just as messy as his office; blueprints with incoherent scribbles and papers full of text line the floor.

“The blueprints could be useful,” I tell myself, swiping the mostly intelligible ones. I rummage through the desk drawers full of random trinkets like paperclips and notepads. Amidst the junk, I find some money, enough to buy a motel room or something far away from here.

I scurry around the other rooms upstairs, finding the master bedroom. It’s mostly clean with its unmade bed and random clothes on the floor. It’s cleaner than mine at least.

Nothing of interest other than some clothes I thought might fit me. Walking back out into the hallway, another room catches my eye that I didn’t notice before. It’s shrouded in darkness, all the way at the other end of the hallway.

I hesitate before walking over and opening the door to a small room. It’s by far the cleanest room in the house. A small bed rests in the corner and a small pile of stuffed animals lay on the other corner. A little girl’s room.

“Charlie’s room…” I tell myself, recognizing her favorite toys in the small pile. Ella, Stanley, Theo…

My first thought shouldn’t have been to give these to Cassidy… but I have a feeling Charlie doesn’t need them anymore. She’d want someone to take care of her toys. I gently put them in my backpack with the other stuff I borrowed.

“Cassidy—!” I call for her as I jog down the stairs.

“Mike!” She runs out to meet me at the bottom of the stairs, holding a crumbled slice of chocolate cake with her bare hands. “I found cake!”

“Oh… Thanks,” I take it gingerly. “Maybe get some actual food and put it in my backpack, ‘kay?”

She comes back with tupperware with random items that she seemed to like the best. A single slice of pizza, rice, and more cake.

“That’s enough,” I stop her when she tries to bring more cake. “I can get us more food, it’s fine—”

“Oh, okay!” She smiles, eating the slice of cake she brought instead.

I figure the faster we leave the house, the faster we can get out of this town for good.

“Wait,” Cassidy stops me before I can fully open the door. “Why are we leaving?”

“We can’t stay here. My dad will find us sooner or later, and by the way Henry’s been acting, he’s not going to put up much of a fight. I’d rather skip town and get the hell out of here for good. I can’t take this anymore.”

Her big green eyes stare up at me, until she seems to eventually understand, and solemnly nod. “So… I can’t see my friends again?”

I stop. I feel my ears getting hot again. “...You’ll see them again one day, Cass. I promise.”

With that, she quietly follows me out of the house, ready to walk again. To where? I don’t know, anywhere. Anywhere but here.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #cassidy fnaf #michael fnaf #michael afton fnaf #fnaf cassidy #fnaf 4 #fnaf story #fnaf fanfic #fnaf headcanon

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nena-96 · 6 months

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What the Flip Lily?!

@jilytoberfest @jilymicrofics Week 4 prompts: Blip, Flip, Clip, Rip, Trip (my schedule in rl is a bit hectic, but here's a little Jily domestic family fluff)

Summary: Lily was enjoying the special moment with Harry in the nursery of Godric's Hollow... that was until James had decided to say some colorful words.

read below or on A03

His green eyes were so beautiful and full of love that Lily could do nothing but smile, as she cradled her little Harry in her arms. He’s so tiny, with his tiny fingers that reached and squeezed her finger as he gurgled a little laugh, as he kicked his tiny feet. Sitting here in the nursery, as she rocked on the ancient rocking chair, had become one of her favorite places to be here in Godric’s Hollow. Even with the war looming above them, as they hide in this house, she knows that there’s still beauty in the world, one of the reasons is the adorable look on Harry's face. Loving the way he giggled at the way she “booped” his nose with her finger.

While her little Harry, her adorable son would always end up blowing a raspberry at her, making Lily’s eyes fill up with tears of happiness.

A world where the war is over and Muggles and Muggleborn are safe to live their lives free of fear and pain. Harry’s green eyes are a reflection of her own, yet the messy black hair is definitely all James. If she were to really focus, she could see the glimmer of mischief within those beautiful green orbs. It was times like these in which Lily realizes that there can be peace in the wizarding world. One look at the child in her arms proves that her statement is real. No matter the time of day or night, Lily knew for certain that her little Harry will always be safe in her warm embrace.

So pure, so innocent, her little Harry James Po-

“Son of a Bit-”

Lily whips her head towards the nursery’s door, at the sound of her dearest husband’s outburst, the door knob jostles a bit before it turns slightly right and the door gets pushed open. As James limps into the room, while muttering obscenities, “I see you still haven’t moved the end table from the living room, Lils.” James said as he walked across the small distance to the nightstand. “I told you that I’d do it later, and no swearing James, I don’t want Harry to learn such words,” Lily scolded him, while making a show of covering Harry’s pink ears. “Oh, come on Lils you know more than I do that you have a sailor mouth”, James retorted, “I recall that you had quite the colorful vocabulary this morning that would even make an Auror blush.” With a roll of her eyes, Lily focused her attention back at the gurgling child in her arms, “No swearing, isn’t that right, sweetheart,” she cooed at Harry, making him giggle and his eyes brighten with happiness.

“I’m going to prepare some Palak Paneer and some Chicken Tikka Masala”, James said momentarily pulling Lily away from Harry, before she could ask how he got the ingredients for such a lavish meal, James waved his hand at her. “Relax, I used the Invisibility cloak and I can assure you that nobody saw me,” he said with certainty that the only thing that Lily could do was nod her head and smile at her husband. Lily watched as James walked towards her and give her a gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead before moving to kiss her gently on her soft lips. Before he moved away, he leaned down and she felt his breath tickle her skin as he whispered a promise into her ear, “I won’t let anything happen to either of you and I promise to tell you next time when I’ll go out for food.”

Lily nodded as she tried her best to not think of exactly how far the man, she loves would go in order to protect them, she doesn’t want to entertain the thought of losing him because he sacrifices himself in order to save them. No, a world without James is simply not a world she wants to live in, they made a promise and she will do everything in her power for the three of them to come out of this war alive. There’s simply no other alternative, she will not let anyone rip her family away from her.

James gives her a soft smile, his dimples showing before he turns to head out of the room, so he could show off his culinary skills, something that Lily could never achieve. Although, in her opinion there is nothing sexier than a man cooking up the most delicious curry and having the dishes cleaned and put away afterwards.

However, it has seemed as though luck wasn’t on her husband’s side, since he ended up tripping over the corner of the rug that was sticking up and ended up banging his toe onto one of the legs of the crib, as he was now hoping on one foot as he bit his bottom lip in frustration. Yes, it was moments like these in which Lily debates whether she indeed married one of the most talented wizards ever, or the biggest toe-rag ever.

“Blo-”

Lily’s eyes widened as she glanced at Harry before looking back at her husband, who if you ask her is making quite the show of hopping around on one foot. Before James could finish his sentence, Lily managed to bring out her wand from under Harry’s blanket and quickly muttered a spell and sent it directly at her husband.

“Blipping, flipping clip!” James had shouted in confusion, “Slipping, ugh flip.... Lily, what the flip did you clipping do?”

“I told you, no swearing around Harry”, Lily said in between giggles as she listened to the words spilling out James’ mouth. The look on his face was priceless as he licked his lips, and closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts as he did his best to ignore the way both Harry, and she were giggling uncontrollably now. Their faces-tinged pink as James continued muttering silly-obscenities as he turned and made his way out of the room.

“Dagnabbit…. Son of a monkey…. Merlin’s beard…. Flipping heck, Lily”

#jilytoberfest 2023 #jilymicrofics #<1000 words #James Potter #Lily Evans Potter #Harry Potter #jple #Jily fanfic #nena writes #Week 4 prompts

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adridoesstuff · 1 month

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So all I've seen of Czech Elisabeth is what you've posted, but - thoughts/notes on Smrt's and the angels' costumes?

I'm always here to talk about the Smrt and angel costumes because oh my god, do I love them.

(More under the cut)

Smrt and his angels are designed to look very birdlike, specifically like carrion crows/ravens, who are frequently associated as symbols/bringers of death. The choice to really lean into the bird-inspired costumes was especially smart when combined with the Czech translated lyrics, which really leaned into the bird-associated symbolism in the text.

I must confess that when I first saw the production photos, I didn't like the costumes. I think it might have been because I already had the association formed that Tod in a pleather costume is not a good choice. However, what really made me love the costumes is when I saw them onstage and saw them in movement. I don't know what kind of weird pleather the costume workshop used, but despite obviously being pleather, it had such beautiful light movement on both Smrt and the angels and flowed so beautifully every time they moved.

The angels all wear long coats with hoods, one of their sleeves is close fitting and covered in little "feathers" and the other is made to look like a wing. The wings, aside from creating gorgeous movement, were also used to create Rudolf's grave during Totenklage, which was an absolutely genius move.

(Two of the angel dancers with Jan Kříž as Smrt)

Smrt is given a different costume to clearly differentiate him as the leader of the flock/not an angel himself. And I honestly think his costume is ICONIC. He wears a pretty standard undercostume of pants with knee high boots and a vest, but I like that instead of buttoning straight down the front, Smrt's vest buttons diagonally. Which is a tiny detail, but it shows that Smrt is not a human.

And then, there is that absolutely EPIC coat. The coat is pretty simple at first glance, but just the way it's patterned and cut is very interesting, since the front is cut a bit shorter so the Smrt actors don't step on it, but the back pieces are kept longer to have more movement in the garment. And the back was given triangular gores in the "skirt" of the coat for even more movement.

And of course, instead of the wing sleeves, Smrt has a feathered shoulderpiece made out of various types of feathers, most prominently rooster feathers, which throw subtle green and blue reflections under the stage lights. Once again, I have to mention the movement, because those feathers at moments seemed to live a life of their own, almost ruffling themselves up with the movement.

Also, you might have noticed I talked about the coat and vest, but not a shirt and that is because Smrt just doesn't wear one. Which is just a detail that is so subtle, but when you know about it, it is just one more of those details that just show that Smrt is not a human. And if you need proof that there indeed isn't a shirt (and this is an excuse for me to include one of my favorite silly pictures of Pavel Režný as Smrt):

And of course, the makeup deserves a mention, because once again, it's ICONIC. Both Smrt and the angels wear a bold black eyepaint, with the angels sporting a more graphic liner look alongside black lipstick and Smrt having a more simple, but varied look through the production's 4 year run.

And what I think speaks to the greatness of the costumes is that the actors themselves were fond of wearing them. Pavel Režný in particular seemed very fond of his Smrt costume and makeup, doing the pre-show soundchecks in almost full costume and with the eyepaint, donning the full Smrt costume and makeup for concerts only to have to immediately take the full thing off and after the production derniere in Brno evidently not taking the Smrt makeup off until he returned home in the middle of the night.

Pavel Režný also went through multiple hairstyle changes through his run as Smrt, since he had to grow his hair out for Jesus Christ Superstar. So, after the derniere, we got a full on Jesus!Smrt moment for an offstage event. Tbh, I wish we had gotten this more flowy hairstyle on Smrt onstage while the show ran, because it is a look tbh:

Hope I didn't make this one too long and overwhelming, but I just love this production so damn much and feel free to ask more about it!

#elisabeth das musical #djkt elisabeth #costume nerding #costume analysis #der tod #always here to talk about these costumes #genuinely one of my favorite Tod costumes of all time

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lillxart · 10 days

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Snip from CH 9

“I never asked before, but why do you think Elenwen would want you dead? I mean, you’re really good with magic and you’re efficient with killing things.”

“HA! That’s certainly one way to put it. I imagine from an outsiders perspective that’s all the Thalmor would need from an Altmer.” Taliesin gave a dead chuckle and leaned back into his seat. Eventually she shrugged. “It could’ve been any number of reasons really. My brash attitude, my candid inability to hold my tongue–”

“–You do seem to be quite the quippy quipster 0v0”

Taliesin stopped and looked at her. Just stared at her face for a long time. Then his mind went back to the brilliant notes he just read, and then he looked back at her face again wondering how the person who wrote such notes and the ditzy Breton were the same person. “Do you have an alternate personality by any chance?”

“Wuh? 0<0 Nooooo, why? :>” There was nothing going on behind those eyes of hers.

“No reason.” Taliesin rolled his eyes. “Anyway, to put it plainly she wanted me dead because she doesn’t believe I’m a good Thalmor. I’m not a reflection of the Altmer people, not the pinnacle of bigoted lesser elf hating nationalists all the other members of the Dominion back home are.” He huffed. “Those of us sent to Skyrim are meant to shine in her own image, to make Elenwen look good… Apparently I didn’t make the cut.”

Snow White silently took in the explanation. She put her alchemist's tools down and lowered the heat of the beakers so nothing would explode. The witch found herself thinking of her own people, how she would never make the Spring Elves have to ‘shine in her own image’ and kill them if they failed. The weight of such a concept made her shoulders ache and her stomach curdle. It was beyond unfair and she hated it. Snow White looked back at Taliesin, who was staring down at a book, but not quite reading it. His brows were furrowed and he was clearly thinking about what he just told her, and of course what that meant for him. The high elves are an esteemed and prideful people. Being told that you’re not ‘good enough’ when your whole culture is based around perfection…

…it leaves a scar.

“H–Hey…! What are you doing?” Taliesin startled at the Breton making herself comfortable on his lap. “Erm–ever hear of personal space? You could at least give a little warning first!” He raised his hands, panicking a bit and not sure where to put them.

“Oh stop it -3- I promise this filthy halfbreed Breton won’t do anything to you. Just wanna have a looksee…” Snow White placed her hands on the side of his face, tracing her thumb down his cheekbone and using her index finger to trace the arch of his brow.

Taliesin’s posture went completely stiff, eyes hyperfixed on her every motion as she studied him. His mouth was twisted into a nervous frown, very unsure how he should be reacting to her invasion of his personal space. Ordinarily he’d like some–warning before someone gets too close to him, his instincts from the war making him prone to skirt away or shove anybody that could be a threat. But the Altmer really had no idea what Snow White was doing. He cleared his throat, hoping to bait out an explanation from her. To no avail, since she remained quiet which only caused his face to go red at her continued proximity.

Once Snow White had examined every part of his face she settled back gazing into his eyes. Taliesin averted his stare, acting nonchalant about the deepness in her somewhat simple actions. “Are you done whatever it is you’re doing yet? You’re quite heavy.”

“No I’m not -o- I’m tiny and light. Shut up and look at me!”

“Well that’s a polite way to ask for attention isn’t it?” Taliesin had never seen her eyes this close and for the first time noticed there were little…fractals of light deep in the grey. It would be wrong to describe them as gold, or green, or blue, but it was a mixture of all those colors. Just pure light. He found himself hypnotized by them. Since when could humans possess such a color pallet? They look like…diamonds. Seemingly satisfied, Snow White gave a hum and hopped off his lap. Taliesin felt like he could breathe again. “Do you crawl onto the lap of every man you meet, or am I just lucky?”

“You look like an Altmer to me! :D” Taliesin glanced back at her and tried to pick apart that statement. When it was clear he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, Snow White giggled and poked his forehead. “I looked over every inch of your angular face! You have a pointed nose, ears that stick out like a sore thumb, that typical tired scowl high elves have, arched and well groomed eyebrows…”

“Am I supposed to be taking this as the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten or are you spouting nonsense again…?” He rolled his eyes mildly insulted, though still a bit flushed.

Snow White only smiled brighter. She leaned back down and traced the rims of his eyes, continuing on her little tangent. “…you also have some of the most beautiful eyes Nirn has ever seen…” Taliesin found himself blushing, heart skipping a beat and mind not even processing that she could actually mean that.

What?

Snow White took a step back. “Soooooo, you’ve got all the attributes of a high elf! >W< Which means Elenwen is stupid!”

“Poft–! What? Did you; you stuck your grubby little hands all over my gorgeous face just to mouth off Elenwen?” Now he was really lost.

“Well I had to make sure you were an elf! And you are! You’re all elf! One hundred and ten percent organically grown Altmer from the Summerset Isles! >v< If Elenwen can’t see how you’re not a reflection of the Altmer people when you are an Altmer then she must need glasses!” She pointed a finger up like a scholar at the end of their thesis.

After a moment of thought, and soothing his rapid heart from the bizarre touches, Taliesin found himself smiling at her decisive; although naive way of putting it. He found himself quietly laughing, both in bitter irony and maybe even a little melancholy. He looked down at his gloves. The clothes of the Thalmor Dominion, the shell that covers him. “It’s not as easy as simply having the ears, the eyes, the skin of an Altmer. In the Summerset Isles if you aren’t the kind of elf they want you to be then you’re no elf at all. Death is merely the fitting reward for being sub-par amongst the expected standard…”

“Taliesin. No one has the right to tell you what you are except yourself.” Her back was turned to him, going back to check on her beakers. Her voice was serious, the certainty in her tone something he didn’t expect to hear from someone of her childish persona. It made her words more raw, and made Taliesin all the more discouraged.

“Are you trying to cheer me up?~” Taliesin deflected how he felt with humor, smirk on his face.

“Just stating the obvious! ^v^” Her brew started to bubble, she decided to focus on the milk. “Ohhhhhh OoO”

Taliesin took the bait and went back to reading her magic notes, the audio of her excited giggles and the scrawls of formulas on parchment no doubt similar to what he was reading right now. After a moment to himself, Taliesin softly smiled.

“No one has the right to tell you what you are except yourself.” It’s not that simple…

…It was…a nice thought from her, though.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tes v skyrim #oc #elder scrolls oc #skyrim custom followers #fanfiction #skyrim taliesin #taliesin mod #snowwhitethedagonborn #lorkir #snow white is lorkir #but this is like the second timeline #this isn't abandoned but I'm working on something else rn #motivation #I just love Taliesin so much #I promise I will wash his hair and shower him with the love he deserves

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celestiall0tus · 3 months

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Amaranthine - Chapter 18 - Buried Secrets

Beginning || Previous || Next

Atropa’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned and sat up, startled to see he was at Marinette’s home. He looked around to see Chloe, Zoe, Alya, and Juleka mingled in the kitchenette while strangers were scattered about. A tall, slender black woman with white feathers in her black hair, a muscular bovine of a man with olive skin, a man with tan skin and black hair with cat green eyes, a woman with the same tan skin and long black hair pulled into high, curly pigtails, a tiny white woman with bright blue hair, and a tall white-skinned woman with her brown hair half pulled back in a bun with the rest cascading down. The brown-haired woman turned to him and adjusted her glasses.

“The snake awakes at long last,” the woman said.

“What’s going on?” Atropa asked.

“That’ll be answered shortly. Please, let Sass rest. Longg will need him.”

“O-oh. Ok. Sass, scales rest.”

Sass emerged from the bracelet, then vanished.

“Alright, mortals. On the couch. The presentation is about to begin,” the woman announced.

The girls moved and sat on the couch with Luka. They watched the brown-haired woman stand across from them.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Min, kwami of knowledge. I’m here to help aid you in bringing down the fae Adonis. Please do ask your questions as we go to make this nice and simple. Now, let us begin.”

Min stomped her foot on the ground. The room was plunged into a black void that retained the light of the room. She snapped her fingers as screens popped up with Adrien and Marinette on them.

“Alright. These two specimen are our points of interest. The fae Adonis, or Adrien, and the half-human, Marinette. About three days prior, Adonis created a contract with the human girl. However, before the covenant was sealed, the girl uttered a prayer and was blessed by immutable and mutable nature.”

“What did the contract entail?” Luka asked.

“A simple, yet horrific deal. She would give herself completely to the fae, renounce Longg, and you lot would have all died. She bargained for your lives using her own. Promising to the fae that if any of you were killed or transformed, Longg would kill her. A smart, yet foolish decision came when he agreed to let you all live.”

“Ok, but why her? What’s so special that he’d do all this to get her?” Zoe asked.

Min grinned. She pushed up her glasses as light reflected in them, masking her eyes. She waved her other hand in front of her. The screen with Marinette vanished and the one with Adrien moved behind her. Dozens of smaller screens popped up and formed a circle around them.

“Now, the once human lived a simple, if not lavish life. He witnessed the murder of his parents and was about to be killed himself, if not for a timely rescue from the police. That day forward, the boy grew to hate humans, even hating himself. His dear butler and surrogate mother attempted to steer him from such darkness, but it was all-consuming. His fate was truly sealed when Nooroo came into the picture.”

Min continued. “Nooroo promised the then human man he’d change him and give him the power to change all people. Make them better than themselves and those unwilling to change could easily be killed. As such, they made a plan to replace humanity with nothing short of muddled fae mortals. And so their plans began the moment Nooroo fed the man the first of the faerie food and transformed him forevermore. He was set on his plan until he met Marinette. His ultimate downfall. Psyche! Come join me.”

The black woman, Psyche, joined as Min snapped her fingers and screens of memories the day Adrien met Marinette appeared. Adrien looked bewildered and infatuated at that moment while Marinette was blissfully unaware. More screens popped up that showed Adrien and Nooroo all with Adrien consuming more of the food.

“Psyche, all on you.”

Psyche nodded. “Alright, so, hi. I’m Psyche, kwami of souls. Now, we’re dealing with some soul business. See, we have the issue of a one-sided soulbound, or soulmate. See, the conditions of soulbound are simple. They are souls that would have given anything for the other. Now, intentions don’t usually matter so long as they are willing to give everything for the other, basically the practice of agape, the divine and sacrificial love. That love is, uh, rewarded by the binding of souls.”

“So, this means Adrien was willing to sacrifice everything for Marinette, but not she for him?” Juleka asked.

“Correct! As a result, he is soulbound to her, but she isn’t soulbound to him and we are now dragged into this very messy and vicious cycle of death. But! We can break it. And thankfully, we have a chance. Well, a better one considering what could have happened. Uh, Terra? Join me please.”

The bovine man stood beside Psyche. Min moved the screen of Adrien forward and brought back the one with Marinette.

“Hello. I’m Terra, kwami of body or vessel. Now, this is where things get tricky for you lot. Adonis needs to die, but there is the matter of the alterations to his body. For starters, he is far stronger than all of you, even when transformed, as I’m sure you all figured out,” Terra added with a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, nothing like being jumped by Adrien not transformed and knocking all of us out with a single punch while we were transformed,” Chloe remarked.

“Yes, so, that’s the first problem. The second is he’s still under the effects of the faerie food as it seems he consumes it regularly, which allows him to change himself to adapt, potentially giving him the possibility to become immune to your powers. Furthermore, to kill him, you’d either need an iron weapon, or a magic blade. And, unfortunately, none of you so far have kwamis with such lethal weapons, save for Longg.”

“Ok, but if any of take one of those kwamis, how are we to get close to Adonis? If he can match us not transformed, how are to touch him when he does?” Alya asked.

“Well, that’s why we’ll need little Marinette and Juleka,” Psyche said.

“Me? Why me?” Juleka asked.

“See, he may be more than human, but there’s a way for you to also become more than human without forever altering yourself. This is where the soulbound kwamis come in. See, those soulbound with kwamis are able to achieve the same level of superhuman when synchronized with their kwami. Marinette is soulbound to Longg while you are soulbound to Sass,” Psyche explained.

Juleka blinked, then smiled. “Cool.”

“Now, we’ll have Juleka with Sass, however we will need Marinette back to help us land the killing blow. After all, Sass’s weapon is a staff while Longg’s is a sword.”

“And how do we save Marinette?” Luka demanded.

“Well, it won’t be easy, but luckily the blessing has preserved Marinette,” Psyche remarked.

“Exactly. See, with the prayer before the sealing of the covenant, Marinette was protected by Longg. A blessing that’s arguably half and half. Ground her body so she may never forget and fill her with water to pull her under. Her body as such has been modified enough to allow the completion of the contract, but she remains human still. As for the water, that’s a fail save. See, her lungs are surrounded by the water element. Should she or Longg demand it, her lungs will fill with water, drowning her,” Terra explained.

Luka paled and his stomach dropped. “It won’t come to that, will it?”

“It shouldn’t. Like Terra said, she’s still human, as is her soul. The other half, air to keep her soul free and fire to keep the fire burning and burn anything untoward. So, despite altering their soulbinding, he hasn’t been able to alter her soul to match his own. She is still herself and cannot have her mind altered And, this is more for Terra since it’s a body thing, but there’s a good chance her touch is fire to Adonis.”

Terra laughed. “Indeed. I’ve peeked in a few times and seen the pain at her touch. Longg certainly knows her stuff.”

“And she’s safe with all this? Nooroo can’t change it?” Luka asked.

“Not unless he comes to Longg himself and we’d all love to see him dare that,” Min remarked.

“Exactly. And we’ve a pair of miracles in the works. Longg, and now Sass, are working on that cure all potion Marinette has been attempting to concoct. If all goes well, we can use that and restore her humanity. If not, Terra and I can work our miracle to remold and resurrect her,” Psyche explained.

“Thank you, Psyche and Terra. Memoria, you’re next,” Min said.

Psyche and Terra moved as the tiny woman with blue hair jumped in. Min removed the screen of Marinette again and moved the screen of Adrien back.

“Hiya! I’m Memoria, kwami of memory. Now, understand that there was a breech of sorts. See, the day Adrien saw Marinette, it was a meeting of souls. At least for him. He burned with hatred and love. Love for his soulmate, but hatred because she was a human. He asked Nooroo to help change him to forget, but Nooroo asked: ‘Why forget when you can have what was meant to be yours?’ And so, when Adrien partook of the food again, Nooroo altered his mind, reaching into Lethe’s river, and returning to Adrien the memories of the countless lives he’s lived.”

“You mean he remembers everything? Every little detail and moment?” Alya pressed.

“Yes. It would be one thing if it was memories here and there, but no. Adonis remembers everything, including the origins of the cycle he, Marinette, and Luka are caught in. See, Adonis and Marinette were in love, set to be mated forever and to rule. However, a dashing rogue came along and stole her heart away. In that moment, a binding was made between the crown princess and the rogue. The crown prince was furious and ordered the rogue to die. At the headsman’s blade, the princess sought to keep the rogue safe, but so did he with her. In their struggle to protect the other, they both died. “

Psyche trotted back in. “It’s from this start that this cycle has existed. Marinette would meet Adrien, fall for him, meet Luka, and the pair would give their lives for their love, often dying young. That was until variables were brought in. Alya for Marinette and Juleka with Luka. These two souls would shake things up, changing the predestined cycle, until Longg.”

“So, not only does Adonis need to die, but his tether to Marinette’s soul needs to be destroyed, yeah?” Juleka asked.

“Yes, but also stop this plan of genocide,” Min remarked.

Psyche and Memoria retreated when Min snapped her fingers. The screens filled with information, plans, and photos of the coming Diamond Dance gala in a week.

“Now, we’re in the process of getting other kwamis to help with this. With only two soulbound and one of them in enemy hands, we need to be careful. Now, we could attack now while Adonis is in his nest, however, there’s too many variables on the line there. Especially without a proper team to handle the takedown of Adonis and without the potential antidote to save the Longg’s soulbound. That brings us to the Diamond Dance.”

Min continued. “In a week, Adonis will be hosting said event. This is where he plans on enacting his plans. By the time of the event, we should have everything we need to finally kill Adonis. Now the normal holders will serve as a distraction until-.”

Chloe stood. “Wait! I have an idea.”

Min cocked her head to the side. “I’m listening.”

“We have the kwami of souls with us and if it takes soulbound holders to beat Adonis, can’t she create those bonds so we can all stand a chance at bringing him down?”

“Actually, that she can. Psyche, would you be willing to do that?”

“I… I suppose. I mean, so long as both parties consent to it as well, then yeah. After all, souls are eternal and not all kwamis are keen on being eternally bound to such finite creatures.”

“Very well. In that case, do what you can to overwhelm and bring down Adonis for those that soulbind to a kwami. Any that don’t will remain as distractions. Understood?”

Everyone nodded.

Min smiled and clapped her hands. The darkness faded and the room returned to normal.

“Prepare yourselves. A week goes by sooner than we all would like.”

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