Top Posts Tagged with #you can escape it physically but the stain cannot be removed | Tumlook (2024)


Jun 4

Oh he’s from Florida? That makes so much sense

It explains a lot, doesn’t it?

#this place causes irreparable brain damage which can manifest in a lot of ways#you can escape it physically but the stain cannot be removed#ask#asks#non voice post


Sep 2, 2023

Starlight Paths

THE BOY CAME HOME!!! celebratory Dan Heng x Reader fic, of course. (80 pulls hurts for sure tho) So as I pull for his lightcone, have a fic.

Gn Reader, with very brief and temporary physical descriptions, and its related to power set usage so it can be relatively ignored. Implied chronic illness, but it is more prevalent in future updates. Pre-canon to the point where March 7th is not yet a crew member. Implied curses, witchcraft, end-of-the-world, the struggles of a) being emotionally dumb, and b) an introvert in love with another introvert. Sfw. Strangers to friends to lovers, will be a series. 4.6k words.

Also on a03 here! Part 2 here!>>>>>


"The IPC documents the unprecedented full-body-manifestation of The Destruction, Nanook, entirely destroying one of the two local moons, Phobos, and rendering the recently destabilised Oizys region entirely uninhabitable."

This a summarized notice from the IPC's broadcast about the Deimos Cataclysm, which despite your every effort, the Astral Express and its crew is drawn into. As you and Dan Heng fight to protect the home you and the crew have built, while staying true to protecting the people of the worlds you Trailblaze through, the two of you cannot help but wonder if the pasts you're trying to escape will one day catch up to take all that you love once again.

To face what hunts you will either save or slaughter you both.

Hobling down the deserted strip, the last of the surviving infrastructure provides a staccato flashing illumination to the crumbling town. Almost symmetrically, a shuddering cough wracks your chest and one of your knees finally gives, causing you to drop. Dan Heng gasps, his hands scrambling to catch under your arms to halt your descent. A warm feeling ebbs on your face, and you can’t tell if it's an inappropriately-timed blush, the expected head rush, or if your nosebleed has broken its clot and started up again. Your shaking hand, no matter how much you tense your wrist, rises to dab at the skin under your nose. Under the cover of the briefly disturbed darkness, you watch your fingers come back shining red… and gold. Well that wasn’t propitious. Two blocks down, an apartment building crumbles and something goes up in flames. The flickering light blocks in the street illuminate the rising smoke at a distance. It's not so close that you and Dan Heng are at risk yet. A small blessing, then.

[10 Minutes Before The Deimos Cataclysm]

He swears under his breath, gently lowering you to the broken street, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you’ll be just fine soon,” he says, speaking so quickly it takes you a moment to process his assurances.

Y’know, you never thoroughly reflected on how nice his voice was, made only that much more satisfying due to his reserved nature. Your wide eyes turn from your fingers to him as he gathers the sleeves of his white jacket to lightly dry up the blood on your face, but you imagine that it only smears more crimson and gold across your skin. Not that those colours are some new phenomenon to your complexion, of course. Meanwhile, his complexion is beginning to turn to his own variant of pallid, his lips press together with enough force to turn them from pink to pale like a scar on his skin. Finally you recall that blinking is necessary, although resuming it does not remove the soreness from your eyes, looking to the sky. You knew this place, knew what the sky should have looked like during this season, but the massive moon that should have been blooming in the sky was blotted out, leaving only a few dying stars to wink back at you. To your regret, there is nothing you can do to save them. Helplessness is not a new circ*mstance in the plot of your life though.

Dan Heng allows a mediocre amount of relief to cross his expression as your nosebleed finally reclots and he stops pressing at your face, “That will leave a stain,” you murmur, meeting his wide green eyes.

His eyes– have you ever properly appreciated them when you had the time– flicker at the growing blotch on his sleeve before he aggressively shoves his free hand into his many pockets searchingly before yanking a teal handkerchief from the inner lining of his coat, “I can clean it.”

A crude attempt to fix your appearance follows, as he can’t seem to decide whether to take a gentle touch about his efforts or not, while your eyes follow his movements with mindless curiosity. He pulls the collar of your jacket straighter, touches at your sweaty forehead and hairline with his rag, sweeps dirt you weren’t aware of off of your clothing. You’re pretty sure a majority of it's not dirt and more likely to be blood though, so his efforts are wasted. It's a shame, it really is, after all the gentle encouragement you’ve given to him to act on his desires to care for others after so long. Not to say that you should take all the responsibility for his growth, those are all steps he had to take himself, for himself. You hope that he will continue that journey past today.

“Okay… thank you, then.”

“It’s nothing.”

[6 Minutes Before The Deimos Cataclysm]

Another distant rumble shakes the stones and broken chunks of building and forest around you, and you slam your bloodied hands on the ground and close your eyes tightly, mentally noting the odd colours that swirl under your eyelids and relinquishing some of that force behind your expression. The pressure dissipates and the slight bout of dizziness that accompanied it also fades, thank goodness. Your lips part and you distantly register your voice hissing one of your many spells that you’ve seared into your mind, grasping for all the passive energy webs inlaid just under the earth of the planet. You can hear Dan Heng’s raspy breathing cut off, only to resume softly, likely in response to the glowing runes– those damn runes again. You feel some kind of heaviness in your chest as a humourless laugh jarringly falls from your jaws. Those damn runes, both every solution and tool you have, and the source of every tragedy that has ever befallen you.

“Don’t– you don’t need to do that,” he insists urgently, once calming hand on your back now gripping your shoulder in alarm, “I can lift you on my back and as long as I am quick we’ll make it back to the Express. Just–”

The world shifts, and your eyes jerk open. The world itself is just as you just left it, but your brain and your circulatory system screams at you that gravity has warped, reversed, abandoned you entirely. Vertigo and alarm drives you to lean on him for support while your brain resets and reorients. Every heartbeat seems deafening as you and he crane your necks. The stars have vanished from the sky, leaving only the blinking street lights and inset glowing panels in the road. Pure adrenaline and some half-functional (and far delayed you might add!) sense of self-preservation pulls your muscles taut as you hurl your body forwards, grabbing Dan Heng who grunts in shock as you drag him after you. Your stumbling and already sapped strength, even with his support and lent strength, does not carry the two of you very far.

[2 Minutes Before The Deimos Cataclysm]

The farthest you get is a nearby alleyway, where Dan Heng takes over directing the two of you further in, and sets the two of you down in the fragile shade and protection of a covered entrance to one of the buildings that makes up the surrounding walls. While he braces, you cautiously roll up the sleeves of your jacket and shirt. Your skin is stained as black as night, only disturbed by slicing vein shapes that line your palms or the undersides of your arms. They pulse gold like the kind that stains Dan Heng’s coat now. A chill flows through those same veins as anxiety explodes across your awareness and you begin tearing at your jacket. The quiet skittering of your buttons and zippers clatter in the silent atmosphere as you toss your jacket in front of you and pull your shirt sleeves up to your biceps. The black staining and golden markings, once only barely tainting your fingertips in your youth, now crawled nearly to your shoulders. Just this morning it had only touched your elbows.

The opposite wall begins to darken, and cold sweat soaks your body as you begin to shove your partner to his feet, “You need to go. You need to go now, get to the Express now, and you need to get off the planet.”

“I agree, now let me help you up,” he urges, “we don’t leave people behind, if that’s what you’re implying I should do.”

[1 Minute Before The Deimos Cataclysm]

The wall with the black splotch blazes to life, golden lines burning the air as they form, long and curving lines growing and connecting. Before long, the rune forms an almond shaped eye with a hollow iris, and the burning sensation begins. You know what that eye means. And your throat feels swollen shut as you try to swallow down your rising terror.

“Dan Heng, you need to go now!” you beg, trying to ignore the stinging in your arms while trying to push him further away, “please, go. The situation has changed. If you don’t go, we’re all going to be nothing but ash sooner than I thought, and I’m going to slow you down. You. Need. To. Go!”

His only response is to pull you into his arms, and hold you tight, then try and stagger on. The burning sensation becomes overwhelming to the point where you cannot speak, relegated to staring with watering eyes as the iris of the eye shaped rune begins to illuminate.

“We are going back to the Express,” he grunts, breathing heavily next to your head while you stare over his shoulder, “and we are going to be okay. I refuse to accept another option.”

Now at full development, the eye rune is blindingly bright, and the iris begins to swivel, following you both down the walk. You lift your weakened arms over his shoulders– maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to shield him from the gaze of the eye rune. You glare at the humming eye, like trying to win a staring contest with the ignorant sun itself. The burning agony comes to a head on your strained nerves, and at long last, your vision whites out and your body disconnects from your mind. At long last, you are untethered from the world. The last you sense is Dan Heng’s tightening grip around you.

[The IPC documents the unprecedented full-body-manifestation of The Destruction, Nanook, entirely destroying one of the two, local moons, Phobos, and rendering the recently destabilised Oizys region entirely uninhabitable. No known locals of the region have been located to this day, and are assumed deceased during the cataclysm. Inquiry sent to the Intelligentsia Guild for further research into the activity and travel patterns of The Destruction for the sake of future preemptive preservative action.]

[10 Months Before The Deimos Cataclysm]

When Dan Heng first encountered the Astral Express, it was an accident. It and another star-faring vessel were caught up in an event, like a nasty traffic incident clogged by monsters manufactured by the recesses of the universe. In a temporarily formed alliance, the ships managed to finagle a landing on a nearby planet, weighed down by monsters clinging to their hulls, and the most courageous or idiotic of the ships piled outside with the sharpest or heaviest things they could carry. He, of course, took Cloudpiercer as he charged— figuring that the most efficient route to solve this issue is directly through it. The monsters are towering, wailing things, and he cuts them down as he’s used to, one at a time with prejudice.

He flinches at some unnatural atmospheric frizzing, and a small group of monsters are incinerated by a space laser. An older gentleman lifts and gravely strikes the earth with his cane, and a beast about to drag its claws through him like an axe through wood howled as a miniature black hole dragged it into nothingness, leaving only upheaved earth. He wondered about the physics or tech that could enable that. It was certainly precise. Dan Heng can’t ponder it for very long, as another hoard of monsters clamour out from Aeons know where– and something new becomes an issue for him (really, he’s wondering when he finally gets a break; imprisonment, isolation, exile, endless wandering, near-memory stealing, that man, and now this). Five creatures cut him off from the others, it's nothing he can’t survive, but it will be a miserable recovery-to-survival process with what he knows of his current crewmates’ medical knowledge.

He growls, hands digging into the putrid flesh of a creature as he scales its back to plunge Cloudpiercer through its chest. As it falls, he ducks-and-roles to dodge the worst of gravity’s consequences, and stabs at the limbs of another and knocks it to its knees (or… what was most likely its knees). Just as he manages to stand, a massive hand flattens him to the earth too and he flails and gasps, grunting as the air escapes him. His brain was filled with images of that man’s sword, and desperate scrambles for survival against a threat that he can’t put down permanently. Dan Heng weakly stabs at the beast’s wrist, but it only presses down harder, and he groans in effort as he resists the crushing force. There’s black spots dancing in his vision and his entire body aches– then the scent of decay fills his nose, and he thinks about the mara-struck of the Xianzhou Alliance and how they might be doing these days– but then the black spots start… falling? His lungs instinctually draw in breath again and he’s both more exhausted and filled with lightning and screaming to move all at once.

The thing groans and pitches sideways, body consumed with ashy malady, lifting its hand from his body in shock to halfheartedly reach for its side, only to crumble to pieces in dark chunks before ever drawing close. Dan Heng could only squint as his vision tried to keep up with his head rush as oxygen refilled his lungs, but what looked initially like a blood soaked Mara-struck refined into a figure that appeared roughly his age, dressed head to toe in red and black, who with a huff of disgust, scattered the remaining ashes of their foe with the swing of their right hand. That hand, which looked like the source of the decay, as only the farthest body parts of the creature from where they had touched it remained now, desiccated on the ground around them. They don't seem to have a weapon, not even an adapted one, like that man and his cane. Their eyes glow an ethereal aureate that makes the surrounding field feel like a ring of fire. He blinks, and the aura flickers out of existence, and the chill of his adrenaline sinks in instead. Absently, he concludes that they’re very… charming. Maybe the near crushing caused him to hit his head on the way down.

“Get up,” they shout, somehow calmer than the arctic seas buried under ice and wind, “now! There’s still one more wave coming.”

He tries to reply, stumbles through a rough cough, but manages a raspy “right,” as he forces his weak legs to stay under his body weight and rises to fall into position by their side. They were soon enough sprinting left and right, tagging one abomination after another, then slamming those devastating hands upon the earth: all of which crumbled away, resulting in piles of ashes, and another serpent-like beast sinking into the ground like quicksand, which allowed him to behead it. With them at his back, he was able to focus on one monster at a time, without interruption, and with much greater success. He’s starting to lose count of the amalgamations he’s cut down when a wild cry of elation and of weariness broke through the din.

It's an unexpected expression, since the crew of Mourning Actors resists the draw of Aha’s domain on purpose. And thus, the stage of battle could clear, as the plays of war closed. He holds Cloudpiercer like a hiker’s staff as he cranes his neck, searching for his battle brethren who had saved him. He finds them breathlessly chuckling, staring into the sky, wind whipping the ash around them into tiny twisters. Those same hands that ripped apart beats rise, wiping sweat from their brow before fixing their gloves. Perhaps those gloves were the weapon that he missed earlier– although they look far too delicate to be some kind of technology. The user in question catches his eyes curiously trained on them, and shyly waves back. At least, he thinks it's shy? He can’t say he’s some kind of telepath who knows their psyche in-and-out, and because of the stakes of the battle they’ve kept a careful level of emotional distance on their face. They’re difficult to read, beyond simply being physically tired.

“Isn’t the calm so savoury when you’ve finished the fight?” They ask over panting lungs, stepping closer to make quiet conversation.

He appreciated that they didn’t seem to enjoy shouting, but his typical suspicions inevitably crept back in as he said, “this victory does not guarantee future ones.” Immediately, he chastises himself- what a combative response to someone who didn’t ask for it! So he corrects himself with a cough, “but yes, the calm is quite rewarding.” He’s not looking to be social, but it's no excuse to be impolite.

He’s surprised when they shrug and also reply, “it's no guarantee of course, but that makes this moment even more precious. Let’s head back, our ships and our people need us now.”

Dan Heng just didn’t expect that ‘his ship’ would also be ‘theirs’ at the end of that same day. The woman with red hair and a case loaded with saws and drones had said they needed a guard and an archivist, so who was he to refuse a room and a job like that? The Astral Express is stunning, but he doubts he can stay long, given how narrow his last encounter with the undying man was. It isn’t a difficult adjustment in the slightest: he can sleep anywhere and hasn’t got a picky taste bud in his body. He packs up his meagre sleeping bag and sparse personal effects, then marches into the Astral Express. Himeko, as she introduced herself, personally gave him the tour after a quick check in with the charming conductor named Pom-Pom. The cars closest to the main engine were for long-term residents of the crew, which she started the tour with.

After viewing the many possible cabins he could take, he firmly decided that the archives of the train itself was his prime choice. Himeko laughed but didn’t argue at all, ceding him a key to the room so that he could enforce some privacy in his new room in case somebody else wanted entrance. She promised to set up a room for him regardless, should he need it. Just for the archives for now, she elected to bring some furniture around, but he said it wasn’t necessary– he certainly didn’t have much to pack away after all.

As he dropped off his sleeping bag and tried the locks, he turned to Himeko, “there are others on the Express, correct? I recall a gentleman, and another…” He recalls the man with the cane, and the one with the black gloves from the battle, who surely weren’t from the single other ship involved in the attack. The younger of the duo helped tend to the wounded and scattered after the battle, but he had tended to his own wounds and hadn’t visited.

There’s something about the way Himekos’ golden eyes squint when she smiles. It's the picture of affection, but also of somebody who has just opened him up like a book and diligently read each line of his stream of thought. “Just two others at the moment. You must have seen them earlier then! You’re referring to Mr. Welt, and [Name], then. Have you met them yet?”

He thinks about the person who deconstructed a monster before his very eyes, who is so young but seems like they’ve lived a thousand years when he looked into tired golden eyes. There’s also the man who could control black holes at the drop of a cane. He certainly knows of them. “Not formally,” he settles on saying.

“Well, we can fix that once we finish our tour then. Ah, don’t frown, they’re not the judgemental types, and they’re certainly not disruptive types, if you’re worried about losing sleep.” At her reassurance, he trails after her as she explains the layout of the Aeon-crafted vessel: following what he had already seen, the train cars that followed contained storage, facilities, and at last passenger and short term accommodations.

They find one of the sparse crew in one of the longer cars meant to be used as a mess hall and kitchen, scrubbing a countertop that led to a kitchen island, forming what could be described as a bar setup. With ties decorated like the tasteful accessories in their hair, their sleeves are drawn up close to the shoulders, revealing the length of the gloves stretched just past the elbows. Their attire is different from what he recalls from the struggle too. Their jacket, long and crimson unlike the simple black jacket from their first meeting, catches on the corners of the bar island. He supposes this and the comfort that their pants and shirt were fashioned with would be more appropriate for a task that wasn’t battle. [Name] glanced at the entering pair and politely set down their cleaning products to focus their full attention on their visitors. Dan Heng swears that he properly healed his injuries from the battle, so why is his chest still seizing up at the sight of them? He tries to observe them evenly, but finds that it’s hard to meet their now unilluminated– and no longer golden– stare for extended periods of time, and instead looks around the dining car. There’s a light scent of something spicy and savoury in the air, and his empty stomach churns and distantly aches to helpfully remind him that food would be appreciated around this time.

“I haven’t finished dinner yet,” they state, “I wouldn’t recommend snacking just yet, but I have something small if you need something to tide you over?”

The mess car seems to rumble more than any other car he’s been in, synchronised, muffled. Like a heartbeat. The humming of kitchen fans and vents follow in waves, like gentle breathing. Mixed with the more humid atmosphere, the mess car seems… alive. Given that the train itself was made by an Aeon, it wasn’t entirely illogical to assume that some sentience may have been incorporated into its structure, but the aura of this car isn’t the same as the signs of Akivili in the previous passenger cars. Was this why his body was reacting strangely? It had to be, given the uncanny overlap of the events. Then again, it was only correlation instead of causation. The undercurrent of Imaginary energy swirls with the threads of several Aeons. He knows Lan, The Hunt, the fight against Aha, The Elation, and now Akivili, The Trailblaze, but only The Trailblaze is one of those present energies. There’s some others. Knowing how mixing major Aeon influences changed his ship of origin, uncertainty swims in his body. What was causing this sudden change in this car of the Express?

He only watches as Himeko makes a noise of disagreement, but makes no indication of acknowledgement for the energy shift as she replies, “no worries, I know you needed a break after the conflict, so don’t push yourself too hard, okay? I’m just giving our new crewmember a tour. [Name], this is Dan Heng, our new guard and data bank manager, so please knock if you’re entering the archives from now on.” He takes this as his cue to make his own contribution to his introduction.

He extends a hand to shake, “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Instead of returning his shake, they tip their head and shoulders down in a shallow, but appropriately formed bow for his status and Dan Heng rushes to retract his hand and match the response. He hopes this isn’t a rejection of sorts, he can’t figure out what he would have done during his introduction to misrepresent himself…

“Enchantee, I’m [Name], the Astral Express’s Housekeep-of-sorts. I help Pom-Pom clean, make meals, and repair clothes and facilities. Please let Pom-Pom or I know if there’s anything we can do to help you settle. Mr. Yang and I are also the on-board medics, for future reference,” they subtly turn to Himeko, and he notices that they seem a touch paler than before the bow, “... I think that’s all, I haven’t forgotten anything have I?”

“No, that was perfect. Dan Heng, at the beginning of each week Pom-Pom and [Name] will seek everyone out so that they can plan for meals and what we need for groceries, so don’t be too surprised if you’re due visitors around then. Shall we move onto the next car then?”

He nods, and looks back at the housekeeper, who had… returned to cleaning. They were much more reserved than the other members of the crew he’d met. His eyes followed the rose prints that adorned the long coat, and thought back to the skirmish, when the monster crumbled away from above him. Whatever that was, was clearly transmitted through touch, and it worked on animated and inanimate objects. However, the cleaning supplies were just fine, and they were left in charge of important resources like tools and food, so it couldn’t be random or uncontrollable activation. It couldn’t be residual either, if they were touching everything. Maybe… they just weren’t a fan of physical contact then? He was really overthinking this matter, so he shook his hair out of his eyes and walked faster to catch up with the navigator as she opened the cabin door.

He wonders if it would be rude to ask about that. Instead of pursuing that train of inquisition, he decided to simply listen as Himeko continued her tour. It would be beneficial for him to understand the layout of the place he was meant to be guarding. While he elected not to ask about the strange nature of their abilities, he did have others, “Himeko, why was there the presence of multiple paths in that car? I can’t sense them anywhere else.”

She brightens immediately, “so you did sense it? That’s fantastic, you’re very keen!”

He nods, while she slightly tips her head while she mentally arranges an answer to his query, “the many paths though, I suppose that would be mostly attributed to [Name]’s unique physiology. Out of respect for their privacy, I think it's best if you ask them yourself. This is a great opportunity to get to know the crew better, I think. Welt has done more research on the Aeons, and can introduce you to the functions of the data bank later, so I suggest you seek him out too.”

“Understood,” he says, even though he very much does not understand. On every ship he’s boarded, he’d devoured the contents of their data archives, occasionally passing through an IPC database to expand his understanding of the universe, feeding the deficit caused by his upbringing. He hopes to one day find the information that will lead him to fully escape from his birth. An escape from him would be a welcome relief too.

That night, as he opened the data banks, seated in the one chair in the archive room-turned-bedroom that he resided in, he found his eyes drawn to the crew icons. Opening the files, he finds the profile images and respective name cards of Himeko, Pom-Pom, Welt Yang, and [Name]. Inside three of four of the data stores, he finds useful information like their homeworlds, their skill sets in relation to supporting the Express, and more recent updates included food and drink preferences. Must have been the housekeeper or Pom-Pom. However [Name]’s file is far more empty than the others. The homeworld and birthdate sections aren't even filled in. Dan Heng wonders if it's purposeful or not. Regardless, he supposes that he’ll need to investigate, both for his new job in these archives, and to find out what he witnessed during that battle as his enemies literally crumbled away before his very eyes, leaving only his injuries to remain. And if he can figure out what strange forces are at work within the mess car, wherein the glove-wearing stranger in the red coat resides, even better.

Perhaps he will extend his expected stay on the Astral Express, if only to clear his curiosities away as he delves into the gaps in the data bank’s entries.

#honkai star rail#hsr#dan heng#hsr fanfic#my writing#dan heng x reader#Let The Lights Guide You Home#dan heng my beloved


May 6, 2021

Bright Moon’s and Catra’s albums & track descriptions!

Disclaimer: these are not meant to be *exactly* how i pictured their album covers to look like, but they are concepts, and i like them and wanted to share them<3 also, not all of the songs have descriptions because for some of them i just thought of a name and went “ooh pretty” and left it at that because i have a pea brain. you also need to read chapter 8 for context!

bright moon’s album: Until Tomorrow

theme: coming home


until tomorrow - kind of like “I’ll see you later my friend” vibes, and “I’ll miss you but we’ll be together always, no matter the place or distance”.

slow fall - falling in love slowly and not realizing it until you hit the ground.

marie antoinette - it sounds cool and glimmer probably has a sick drum solo in it that’s literally the only reason for this.

isn’t it wonderful? - being in a good place; feeling comfortable with yourself and feeling at home with your friends and all that; finally finding belonging and no longer being lost, wandering a barren desert

my dear - talking about how being in love with someone makes you want to wake up every day and call them “my dear” and other cute lovey-dopey nicknames that, if used by anyone else, would make you gag because ew PDA

heaven - all gay artists are required by law to have a song with nods to religion but in a reclaiming it kind of way because of religious trauma and it’s always super gay so yeah that’s what this is honestly.

bed - wanting to stay in bed all day and just be lazy and comfortable; being happy and not rushed at all; it’s very unusual because you’re the type to always be running around and never taking breaks, but now that you’ve met someone, all you want to do is to just stay in bed with them all day long under the warmth and safety of the covers; kind of like being in the “honeymoon phase”.

road trip - wanting to travel the world with your friends and those you love; also the feeling of just returning home and being happy wherever you are as long as you are with the people you love the most; you can travel thousands of miles, but you can make anywhere feel like home if the right people accompany you.

the skies are prettiest wherever you are - it’s relatively self explanatory; being in love and only seeing the beauty in things when the person you’re in love with is around; they make even the darkest of days beautiful and worthwhile.

campfire - not to be confused with the campfire song from spongebob

as long as we have each other ft. catra - holding onto your loved ones; making an unbreakable promise; everything will be alright if you have one another, and nothing bad can hurt you; the person you love is your home because you feel safe around them; meant to be a sister song to “nothing bad can happen” by catra ft. bright moon, a bonus track.

magic treehouse ft. catra - wanting to see the world with your best friend like you’re children again and thinking you could just teleport; escaping the problems of your own life to have fun with your best friend, creating a world of magic between the two of you that cannot be harmed by the outside world.

all this time (it was just you) - one of the songs by adora; it’s about catra and how adora realizes that catra is all she wants in the world, but she had been too blind to see it sometimes.

cottage by the ocean - one of the songs by adora; about wanting a peaceful life with catra where it’s like they are the only two people in the world and nothing else matters except them and their love; they live in a cottage by the ocean where they can collect sea shells and take walks along the water at sunset, just finally being happy and at peace and undisturbed.

in my dreams - one of the songs by adora; how she dreams about the two of them being happy and having no worries. She’s been having reoccurring dreams that have the common theme of having a life with catra; they come home to each other, they do not have to worry about the pains of the world or their pasts, they can do things that are only possible in dreams.

a thing or two - one of the songs by adora; catra has taught her a few things about life, and how those things have changed her for the better; if it weren’t for catra, adora would have been a totally different person, and now adora wants to thank her for being in her life, even if only for a short while, and that she will love her always.

catra’s album: play me out

theme: growth, healing


space - learning how to not rely on others; independence; loving people but not making your whole life about them

i am me - self love; the journey of loving both the good and bad parts of yourself; accepting who you are; forgiving yourself

aphrodite - literally just how f*cking hot adora is and how aphrodite’s beauty doesn’t compare to her (both her physical and non-physical features, and like more subtle and random ones like the way she smiles when she sees catra, how she laughs at her own stupid dad jokes, etc)

play me out (ft. adora grayskull) - just a love song; returning to one another after being apart; learning that you were meant to be together

f*ck it - not giving a sh*t about what other people think; let the people talk and say whatever they want because catra isn’t going to give a damn; she’s just gonna keep living her life by her rules and enjoy it

once upon a time - her childhood growing up with adora, but making it sound more fairytale like and more innocent, even the darker stuff like trauma and losing parents and being abused (“you were my knight in shining armor” type stuff)

demons - Catra dealing with her inner demons, her self hatred, self sabotage, trauma; how those things don’t define the person she wants to be today and tomorrow and every day after

walk in the rain - reflecting on her feelings for adora while taking a walk in the rain; the rain on her skin is refreshing and washes away any lingering doubts and insecurities; she is left feeling anew and lighter and very much in love

steinway - straight up h*rny hours; basically just catra wanting adora to,,,yeah,,,on top of an expensive piano (a steinway, if you will) because classy sh*t

worship - remember that thing about fighting religious trauma with gay sh*t? Yeah🖤; real “take me to church vibes” and like “im far from religious but i feel like I’m sinning when i think about you” or “i didn’t believe in religion until i fell in love with you” type sh*t

promise me this (ft. bright moon) - making promises to the person you love; “promise me that we’ll be the same ten years from now”

muse - inspired by adora being catra’s favorite muse when she’s painting; her muse distracts her from the problems of the world as she creates art

bonus tracks:

nothing bad can happen (feat bright moon) - sister song to “as long as we have each other”

you are my best mistake - reflecting on how she thought adora was a mistake for so many years until she realized she couldn’t live without her and that she would always love her, so she must just be the best damn mistake Catra ever made, and catra doesn’t regret loving her or being with her

coffee stains - the impact someone you love leaves on you, how it lingers like a coffee stain and never quite leaves forever; they will always be a part of you, even if you try your damndest to rid yourself of them; they may not be in your life anymore, but you will continue to see them in the littlest of things because they meant that much to you, and you will always cherish your time with them, choosing to embrace the coffee stain as part of your shirt instead of trying to remove it

#famous au#play me out#ive been dying to share these ahh


Jan 15, 2021


SYNOPSIS:arguments are bound to happen to couples, especially those in the long-term ones. you just have to forgive the other right? but what if one of you was already tired from always being the one to reach out?

PAIRING:miya atsumu x reader

GENRE(S): angst

WARNINGS:cussing, swear words



12:32 AM

It had been 3 hours already, and yet no text from Atsumu. You both had another argument which eventually led him to leave your shared apartment. You never even thought the argument would blow up like this. You don't even know where he went. As usual, he will never text you unless you do first. Not a trace from your boyfriend, you sighed as you recalled your last exchange.


You opened the front door with a heavy heart. Today was a great day, well supposedly. You finally had been recognized for your efforts in the company you've been working for. It was supposed to be a big company party, where you can finally bring your boyfriend as your date. Receiving the trophy and announcing your new position, your eyes scanned once again the halls for the familiar blonde. But alas, he wasn't there.

"Where are you?" (Sent, 2:39 PM)

"I'm about to be called up on the stage soon. I'm so excited about this, TsumTsum!" (Sent, 3:15 PM)

"Finally, got it Tsum! HA! I can finally add a trophy of my own in our collection. I still hope there's some space though, after all, your trophies took up so much space. Tsktsk. Kidding! You know I am so proud of your achievement , babe! Anw, where are you? You missed me receiving my award, but maybe, you can still catch up to the party! Message me, okay?" (Sent, 3:38 PM)

"Hey, where are you baby? I thought you are able to celebrate with me?" (Sent, 4:05 PM)

"Baby.. Will you still be able to come here?" (Sent, 5:45 PM)

"The party just ended. I'm on my way home now. Reply soon babe, yeah?" (Sent, 6:27 PM)

"Home already, love." (Sent, 7:16 PM)

You went straight to the bedroom, and changed into your loungewear. You didn't bother to remove your makeup yet, still slightly hoping that Atsumu would make it up and bring you to a dinner date. You looked at the suit hanging on the handle of your closet. Still no text from Atsumu, you thought. Maybe practice is just running late? But he promised though, he told me he would support me today.

You heard some keys fumbling from the front door, and the lock being opened. You finally saw your boyfriend still in his casual clothes from training, taking off his shoes, and dropping the gym bag at the floor. You walked towards his direction.

"Hey, honey" you said with a weak smile. "Where were you today"?

Atsumu gave you a side hug as he fumbles with the pockets of his jackets to take out his keys, wallet and phone. "Training was so tiring, babe. Coach had us do 6 full sets today, but we were so evenly matched and grouped so each set ended like with around 30 points. But my serves were completely off today, which is why I wanted to work on them for about 2-3 hours after practice. I couldn’t even score a single service ace today." He grumbled as he walked towards the kitchen. "Hey, no food today? You haven't cooked dinner yet, honey? You know your cooking always cheers me up after a stressful day."

"Uhm, sorry honey. I had already eaten at the company earlier today, and I'm still quite full." Guilt coating your words with not being able to feed your boyfriend.

"Huh, well , I guess I have no choice but to order take out then. You should have ordered me one babe if you weren't planning to cook me some dinner." He said as his eyes quickly scrolled through his phone and called the Sushi place, missing the notifications of messages he received from you.

"Mhmm, I'm sorry love. Won't do it again, will make it up to you soon."

The sushi delivery arrived after a few minutes, and Atsumu immediately scarfed down the meal. You sat across from him, while scrolling through the phone. "Leave the dish washing to me babe, it's the least I can do."

"Thanks babe, you're the best!" Atsumu chuckled as he took another bite. His eyes focused on you, noticing that there was slightly different with your makeup today. "You look pretty today, baby. Where did you go today? You only wear that makeup when there are parties you had to attend to, love" He took the last piece into his mouth, as he waited for your reply.

"I, uhmm, my promotion was finally announced today Tsum, at the company party.” You said with a low You saw Atsumu stiffen from your peripheral vision. He quickly opened his phone again and saw the date today. He also read the messages you had sent him today.

“f*ck sh*t, I’m sorry Y/N. I completely forgot today, and training was so rough. I’ll make it up to you.” He said as he held your hands.

“Uhmm, it’s alright Atsumu, I understand.” Your eyes still remained low as you cannot maintain the eye contact he was giving you.

“You don’t look okay though, babe. Tell me, what’s wrong? ” He squeezed your hands and rubbed reassuring circles against your skin.“You told me we’ll be open to each other, yeah?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you took a deep breath.“Well, this was not the first time this has happened Tsumu. You missed a lot of big events in my life. The time I had a successful presentation, the time I scored a huge client for the company, and the 7 times I was recognized as employee of the month.” You squeezed his hands as you tried to stop your tears from forming. “Not once, Tsumu. Not once did you attend any of them.“

“But I gave you gifts in return right? I was able to make it up you. I thought we’ve already talked and forgotten about this.” He retrieved his hands from you and cross them in front of his chest.“You’re being pathetic, Y/N. Stop bringing up past arguments, you know this does not have to do anything from them. I said I was sorry, okay? I also gave you those jewelry, and that red dress you absolutely loved. I thought we’ve already settled this”.

“I know, Tsumu, and I am truly thankful for the gifts you have given me. But I was just hoping that you would support me too with my career. I mean, I have always went to support you with your games and I just wanted you to do the same for me. “ Tears were definitely filling up your eyes as you choked up a sob.“Just once, Tsumu. Is it that hard to ask?”

“Well damn it, Y/N! You already know how busy my schedule can be. You can’t keep on demanding these things from me. My time is so limited, and I have to train hard since the tournament is coming up.” He stood up and raised his voice, pointing at you. ”You have always been so needy, so clingy of my time. Why can’t you understand that I am giving you the best I can give with my time? What else do you want, huh? Are you just making this up so I can buy you another purse? A pair of earrings? Tell me what you want so we can forget about this already.” Taking out his card, ready to give it to you.

Your eyes widened with his actions.“What do you think I am, Atsumu? A f*cking gold digger? I just wanted your time for pete’s sake. I just wanted my boyfriend to watch me receive my award as recognition of my two-year efforts with this job. I wanted my boyfriend to hug me as I go down from the stage, telling me how proud he was of me.” You stood up as you met his eyes. Rage covered his honey-colored orbs, but you did not back down, not this time.“You just had to attend one company event for me, Tsumu. Just do the bare minimum for me. But apparently, I am not worth any of your time.” You seethed through your teeth.“You haven't even congratulated me ever since you came home late. Even noticed the one thing I wasn’t able to do for you today, and you made it definitely feel like I made huge mistake as your partner. I am so tired from this, Tsumu. It can’t always be me who had to do things for this relationship.” You closed your fists as you brought them up to your chest, like you’re trying to protect your heart from being broken.Tears were streaming down your face, staining the puffy, red cheeks with the smudged mascara.“I just wanted you to meet me halfway, babe. Just even a quarter, just make me feel like I’m not the only one doing things for our relationship.”

“Well, I’m sorry Y/N. I can’t be the boyfriend you want.” He snapped as he rubbed his forehead.“You know what? I don’t want to deal with this right now. Talk to me when you’re finally okay and all moved on from this drama.” He went to the counter and grabbed his keys, phone and wallet.

You stood up from your seat and followed him. “You told me to be open with my feelings, and I have just always been honest to you. You can’t just leave during our arguments, baby. Are you just gonna leave me hanging again? Will you really leave this unresolved? This happens every time, and I am so f*cking tired --” The loud slam of the door shutting you off as your eyes stared at the empty space where your boyfriend had left.


This wasn’t the first time he escaped after one of your arguments. He was always like this. You were the type to be the one who wants to solve problems quickly. But your boyfriend was completely the opposite. You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, as you tried to stop crying for the nth time.

It had always been me. It was always me.

He wasn’t like this before though. At the start of your relationship, he was always the one who initiated the make ups after arguing. He would always try to comfort you and solve through the problems together. But after a year, with your relationship going on for three years, why did it have it go like this? He no longer was the first to message you, or give the reassuring touches.

But Atsumu was still a good boyfriend. He was physically affectionate, and he always tried to make up with you through dinner dates and gifts. He would try to fetch you in front of your workplace if he has the time. He would always respect your boundaries. He would smother your face with good morning kisses, and give you the best hugs when he arrives home. He had never cheated within those three years, well, not that you know of. You trusted him with your whole heart. You were always the happiest when you were with him. You know that he loves you, and he never fails to tell you that each day.

But why do you still feel unloved?

You always had guarded your heart whenever you feel a problem is about to be brought up. You always tried to think of other versions of how you were going to express yourself to him. You were always scared of how he would react when you would fight. You were always scared that he would never return when he leaves you in an argument.

You felt secure with him when you were both okay, and happy. You had no problems with him being a great boyfriend in those happy moments. But on the other hand, you felt the most vulnerable when you need him the most, and he wasn’t there. It was like seeking comfort and security from the man who left you defenseless in the first place. Ironic, isn’t it?

You know that he would come home once you texted or called him, and told him that you had forgiven him already - that you could forget about it and move on from the problem just as always. Everything will be okay for the mean time. This was just a cycle you had to endure from your relationship with the MSBY setter.

But is this the relationship you would want to have for the rest of your life?


12:51 PM

Atsumu returned back to the shared apartment the next day, wondering why you haven’t messaged him to come home yet. He massaged his sore shoulders as he had spent the night at his brother’s place, cramped in the small couch in his living room. He really expected a thread of your messages to welcome him in the morning, or maybe a few calls last night telling him to come home to you already, and that he was forgiven. But to his dismay, he stared at his lock screen with no notifications from the one who he wanted from the most.

He opened the door, expecting you to run to him and welcome him with a warm hug, a cheerful smile, and on your tippy toes as you try to reach him for a kiss. But he received no greetings from you. He walked through the space and glanced around. The apartment was quiet, and a wave of panic rushed through his body. He went straight to the bed room and saw that his closet was already half-empty. Your bottles of skin care and perfume gone, and your work table decluttered. He searched through all of the rooms in the apartment hoping to see those sweet eyes again, hoping to ask for another chance to make your relationship better again. But, there was no you - no patient and understanding you to forgive him again.


#haikyuu angst#haikyu x reader#haikyuu atsumu#atsumu x y/n#atsumu anon#atsumu angst#miya atsumu#haikyuu scenarios#angst#anime angst#msby x you#juju.originals


Feb 19, 2022

to the departed of Omelas

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s prompt: FFF140: Setting Heaven on Fire. An AU featuring different takes on Heron and Jay Avis of the Avis Coda, though no knowledge needed to understand. Title is a reference to Ursula K. Leguin’s short story: the ones who walk away from Omelas. Enjoy!)

they asked: do you bleed like us?

She wakes up to the pinprick in her left arm. She inches her arm, only to have a smooth leather glove press down on it.

She opens her eyes.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The woman speaking to her has thick, dark hair and a nonchalant dark gaze behind gold-rimmed glasses. She removes the needle slowly, blood in a glass tube beside her. “I was wondering.”

She stoppers the vial. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

She... doesn’t. And then she does remember, flashes of memory almost as if they were from someone else. She had escaped in the chaos. She remembers the eerie blue-green (like sea glass) glowing as it spread higher. She remembers the beautiful stained glass arches, the marble of the great old clock, the silver of the corridors she used to walk so often, as they cracked, blackening as they broke apart.

She shakes her head.

“Pity.” The woman says. “It’s alright then.”

She packs her things, hands deft and easy as they slot strange machines into her bag. Her arms are hidden under long black sleeves, her neck covered beneath a matte black vest. “I will be responsible for your comfort during your stay here. You will see more of me in time to come.”

Her accent is strange, words short and sharp until they pass through her filters and translate.

She forgets to ask her name.

Her room, if it can be called that, is not uncomfortable. There’s a wide mahogany desk with a plush black chair behind it. The bed she was on is a simple lavender, but the fabric is smooth and breathable, and the pillows are soft. It is not too hot, though she cannot tell where the breeze comes from since she can see no windows.

There is a single sheet of paper loosely fallen to the ground beneath the desk when she looks.

“Doctor Jay Avis.” She reads, sending a flick of magic to her eyes to translate the strange symbols into something.

they asked: do you move like us?

When she next sees her, she’s alone again, still fully covered in the strange black top from before, though her pants are now loose around her ankles, similarly black. The ground feels different here beneath her feet, coarser where she is used to smooth silver, though she finds herself falling into old patterns.

The woman greets her. “Do you have a name you prefer me to use?”

She considers it for a moment. She does recall having a name, though it no longer falls easy from her lips. It no longer fits her, not the thing she became towards the end, not what she appears to be now.

She shakes her head.

“Alright.” The woman shrugs. “I prefer not to use numbers. Do you have a particular preference?”

She shakes her head.

“Alright. I shall call you Heron for now, if you are amenable?”

She sounds the word out on her lips. It is a sort of bird? She thinks it fits her. She nods.

“Alright, Heron.” The scientist stands, stretching her arms above her head, not that a single inch of skin is revealed anyway. “I don’t suppose you have any new memories to tell me, so we’re going to begin with your physical.”

It follows. A series of stretches, testing each of her muscles, watching her move. The scientist does not let on anything, almost unearthly in her stillness apart from demonstrating the exercises.

There’s something almost undignified about this. For all that she had hated it, she had been well-respected as a fighter and a strategist, her movements still as the ocean and as powerful when she finally struck.

She remembers more now. She remembers the boat, but before that, she remembers the way her heart had sped up beneath her illusion as she saw past the glamour of the Kingdom. All these power plays of the ones who had magic, but the earth itself cracking, burning beneath. All the little games, the games she had won to prove herself (the way the metal and the shining diamond twisted in her hands, the way it had felt breaking skin and armour, the way it had felt to gain influence, inch by inch, drop by drop of blood) at the cost of the life of the earth and the sea.

She could not forget the moment she realised the beautiful blue waters of the glittering sea she had flown over were a graveyard.

She had tried to leave, but she had invested too much of herself. She tried to go back, tried to find a way to restore the lifeblood of the earth. She had seen the corpses, buried them herself. But she hadn’t been able to leave. It was almost addictive, the way it felt to win, but more than that, the magic had fed on her as she had fed on it.

She had realised it was spreading. She remembers seeing the venomous black, so unlike the shimmer of its manifestation above.

“Would you like something to eat?” The scientist asked.

She startled, even as she nodded.

And I asked: do you think like me?

The bread was soft in her mouth, warm despite both of them having been out for a day. The fruit, some strange red thing, was salty and juicy, as she thanked the scientist.

“Heron.” She hums, sucking the juice off her fingertips. “Do you remember where you are from?”

“Yes.” She says, her voice hoarse from translation, her tongue curling strangely around the syllable. “I remember I crossed a sea after a great fire.”

“Can you tell me more?” There is a strange edge to the scientist’s voice.

“I was from a place they call Heaven.” She said. “They said it was perfect. But it was not. And so it burned.”

“Do you know how the fire started?”

She thinks back. “There were rumours of a dissatisfied alchemist. But those were rumours and the alchemist could not have survived the flames herself.” She does not mind, though she wishes she could thank the alchemist for granting her her freedom. The fire severed enough, destroyed enough that she could severe her own ties and disappear.

The scientist smiles, an eerie, strange expression. Humans smile with their mouths and this is not one such as that. But her eyes have a strange light to them. She takes off her glasses. Her gloves are peeled off, gently but swiftly, the sleeves being rolled up to above her elbow.

She gasps at the burn scars. They are as black as the vest is and horrific, even though the gold that makes up the spaces where there are gaps in muscle and sinew is oddly beautiful.

“Are you sure she did not survive?”

#flash fiction friday#fff140#setting heaven on fire#syl's writing#tw: fire#tw: body horror#tw: medical situations


Dec 28, 2020

The Last Night Part XXIV

Parts I-XXII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII


Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI



Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI




(Author’s Notes: I noticed a slight mistake in my last post. Thomas would be Lucie’s second cousin, not first cousin, because he’s the cousin of her cousin. They are not in fact related at all, only Anna and Christopher would be related to Lucie, James, and Thomas. Ugh, it’s all very confusing. Anyway, Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays! I hope whatever you and your family celebrates, it was wonderful and special. Thank you for being patient for this update. Next update is coming Jan 3.)

James pushed their horse and carriage through the streets at a blinding speed, taking corners on two wheels at times that had Cordelia gripping the sides of the carriage and bracing herself at the velocity; filled with too much concern for Lucie that fear for herself could not fit. Once Magnus had successfully removed the block on her memories, a flood of terrifying images filled her mind.

The demon that had attacked their carriage.

Alastair bleeding on the brick pavement.

Lucie running towards her through a cloud of orange sand and Belial greeting her with a malicious grin.

Lucie could see ghosts. No, not only see them. She could command them. Conjure them. And he wanted to use that ability to command an ultimately unbeatable army.

James took a turn up on the sidewalk, nearly removing a postal box in the process. Luck be it, Magnus glamoured the carriage so that as they flew by and around the crowds of people moving through the congested streets of London, all the pedestrians felt was a harsh gust of wind that gently scooted them out of the way or immediately stopping them so that James could maneuver around in time. When James had begged him to come along, Magnus insisted that he needed to find James’s parents and tell them of Belial’s interest in their youngest child. It was imperative that they find Lucie and bring her back to Magnus’s cottage where he could form guards around her.

Somehow Cordelia knew that if Belial wanted access to her, he would find it. For he had somehow found Cordelia in the middle of London and held her life and her brother’s in his hands.

Alastair. The warmth evaporated from Cordelia’s face as she reached for James’s wrist to look at his watch. She cursed when she found that it was already thirty minutes past three. Alastair would be on his way to look for her now. This would not help James’s standing with him, but she didn’t have enough time to concern herself with her brother at the moment. She’d deal with him once Lucie was safe.

James had barely brought their horse to a slow trot before he jumped from the driver’s seat of the carriage at the front of his Aunt Cecily’s manner.

He ran around the carriage to assist Cordelia, but she was already on the ground and ahead of him.

The garden door was open. There was a chill in the air that was usually absent in the presence of Cecily Lightwood’s quaint cottage. It felt as if it’d been cloaked in darkness- the way she felt when she’d been dragged to the shadow realm by Belial. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of it. Perhaps it was just fear for Lucie that she was allowing her worst thoughts to enter her mind.

James stayed beside her, taking the stair two at a time in a way her skirts wouldn’t allow her. She heard a terrible rip and suddenly her legs had more room to stretch. She didn’t slow or care even as her hair spilled from the delicate coronet her maid had done her hair in as she kept pace with James.

They barreled down the hallway just as two figures stepped out from the room at the end of the hallway.

“Thomas!” James yelled as he skid to a stop. Cordelia behind him reached out for the figure beside Thomas.

“Alastair!” She screeched, nearly colliding with him when she noticed a dark patch across the front of his shirt. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” said Alastair and glanced between her and James. “I was, but I’m not anymore.”

“What happened?” asked Cordelia as James pushed his way past Thomas into the bedroom. “Where is Lucie?”

Thomas and Alastair looked between each other and before either one of them could say a word, Cordelia felt the warmth drain from her body. “No.”

“He was going to kill Alastair,” said Thomas, shame filled his voice. “She gave me no other choice. She nearly broke my nose escaping.”

“He has her?” asked Cordelia as she moved past them into the bedroom to see for herself.

James stood in the center of the room staring wildly at Grace and a boy, no older than the rest of them, kneeling on the ground besides Tatiana Blackthorn. Cordelia’s hand went to her mouth as she realized the woman was dead.

“What did you do?” James demanded of Grace who hunched over her dead mother. “What did you do!?”

“Don’t speak to her in that way,” said the boy.

“Who are you?” asked Cordelia, coming beside James.

The boy slowly rose to his feet. He stood nearly as tall as James, with dark hair and eyes the most beautiful shade of green. “My name is Jesse. Jesse Blackthorn.”

“Impossible,” said Alastair with a hand still clutching his chest. “Jesse Blackthorn died a long time ago.”

Grace sobbed into her mother’s corset. “Yes,” said Jesse, “I was— I was brought back through a bargain my mother had with Belial. An exchange of sorts. My mother thought she was only bringing him the items he needed to resurrect me, and she was so desperate to achieve it she never suspecte what she was actually doing was collecting exactly what Belial needed to create himself a temporary physical form. It didn’t last long, just long enough for him to take Lucy and leave.”

“Why bring you back to life then?” asked Alastair. “If he got what he wanted then why bring you back?”

“To keep Lucie compliant, I suppose,” said Jesse.

“Why would you keep Lucie compliant?” asked James, tightening his grip on a knife Cordelia hadn’t seen him draw. “Did you have something to do with this? Were you working with Belial too?”

“No,” said Jesse. “No, I was trying to protect her. She— she was the only one that could see me; could talk to me.”

“And you took advantage of that,” said Alastair.

“No,” insisted Jesse. “We formed a friendship. We helped each other. I saved your life James, I gave away my last breath after the first attack with Belial, and because of that Lucie made it her mission to bring me back to life. I didn’t realize until it was too late that she had formed an alliance with my sister who was under the control of my mother and Belial.”

James looked down at Grace.“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“There is no getting to him,” said Jesse.

“I’m not asking you,” whispered James in a way that sent a chill down Cordelia’s spine and fear that if he were to ever use that tone on her, even she might cower. “Where can I find him?”

Cordelia felt as if she might faint. She took several steps backward until her back hit the wall.

“I don’t know,” shuttered Grace, still clutching her mother’s mink coat.

James stood straight and dragged his hands through his hair until tuffs of it were sticking out from between his fingers. He turned to Thomas and the two began whispering to one another in low voices. Cordelia felt Alastair come to stand beside her, but couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge him. The memories of him lying on the brick ground bleeding were too fresh in her mind, confusing the way that she felt about him when she left the Institute earlier that day. She’d been so angry with him; she hadn’t known that they were moments away from losing each other.

She couldn’t think about that now. There’d be time for forgiveness later, for now, she needed to help find her friend.

Grace pressed her mother’s hand against her cheek. Her tears poured over her mother’s rings, one on nearly every finger. A memory flashed before Cordelia’s mind of Belial twisting a ring around his finger while he spoke to her. A thick, silver one on his boney thumb.

“Grace,” said Cordelia, pushing herself away from the wall and stepped towards the mourning girl who looked so much like a child curled up on the floor. She dropped onto her knees and brushed Grace’s lovely soft curls that she’d once envied away from her face. “I am so terribly sorry for the loss you’ve suffered.” Grace closed her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “I cannot pretend to imagine how you feel, nor will I, and I want you to know that no one blames you.”

She heard a scoff over her shoulder.

“They’re going to blame her,” said Grace. “She was just trying to save me and my brother. She didn’t want to be alone, and they’re all going to vilify her for it— and me.”

Cordelia understood all too well wearing the sins of one’s parents. Her father tainted their family name long ago. A stain that she’d have to shoulder and battle everyday.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” said Cordelia patting her gently on her back. “Your mother trusted you over everyone else. Did she ever tell you how she conversed with Belial? There had to be some way that she contacted him or he contacted her and if you can help us learn this information and save Lucie, perhaps we can restore some honor back to your mother. Perhaps she can leave this earth having saved your brother and helped to defeat Belial.”

The room grew quiet around her and Grace sniffled. “She never told me directly.” Cordelia held her breath and Grace lowered her mother’s hand and held index finger. “One day, I saw her playing with this ring and thought it peculiar because I’d never seen it on her hand before nor have I ever noticed her playing with it. She dismissed herself from the room and went to her study. I heard her talking rather loudly with someone inside, but when I tried to open the door it was locked. When I mentioned it later, she suggested that I must have been hearing things, but I know that I heard a voice with hers. A male voice. The kind of voice that you do not forget.”

They all stared down at the ring on Tatiana’s finger; everyone too fearful to touch it.

Thomas was the first to speak. “Should one of us put it on?”

“No,” said Alastair. “No one touch it. We should wrap it up and bring it to the adults.”

“We don’t have time for that,” said James and reached for the ring, but Cordelia slapped his hand away.

“Alastair is right,” said Cordelia. “We don’t know what this ring could do if one of us puts it on. It could kill us or something worse.”

“But Lucie,” insisted James.

“Lucie would not be much better if the ring kills one of us and our one chance of finding her is ruined,” said Cordelia as she ripped a piece of her skirt and used it to carefully remove the ring from Tatiana’s stiffening finger. “We’re taking it to Magnus and we’re going to pray he knows what to do with it.”

#The Last Night#the last hours#chain of gold#chain of gold fanfic#jordelia fanfiction#james x cordelia#Lucie x Jesse


May 13, 2021

OG616 : Thor: The Dark World - Pt.6 [Escape From Asgard]

[My masterlist, where all parts of this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: Technically sort of nudity? Nothing is described, and the context is purely medical. It’s all at the end so if you’d like to skip that last bit, go right ahead.

Author’s Note: rewatching thor 1 tonight filled me with the itch to post more OG. I love seeing people enjoy this little story - and I hope it lives up to your expectations! <3

Taglist: @high-functioning-lokipath , @onaheroicmissionTo be added to the taglist, just ask me here or send a message! <3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Sigyn stood in the throne room along with Fandral, Volstagg, Odin, and a handful of Einherjar. Everyone had to be caught up to speed: The Dark Elves had returned, after so many thousands of years, and attacked. Murdered Queen Frigga.

Worse, now they were gone without a trace.

"We are still unable to restore the palace shields. Our artillery cannot detect them, even Heimdall cannot see them." Fandral looked at Odin, "My King, we are all but defenseless."

Odin remained still, pondering, until Thor entered.

"She's your prisoner now?"

Sigyn glanced at Thor. They must have Jane. She clenched her jaw and looked to Odin, wondering if, perhaps, grief clouded his judgement.

Odin turned to Thor, who commanded, "Leave us."

The Einherjar, along with Fandral and Volstagg, bowed and left. Sigyn followed, giving Thor a meaningful glance as she passed.

Be wise, brother.

Sigyn left slowly, lingering a while in the shadows. Listening as Thor conveyed a plan, and Odin disregarded it.

"We will fight! Until the last Asgardian breath, the last drop of Asgardian blood." The king clutched his spear, leaning on it.

Haven't enough died already?

There was a pause before Thor spoke again. "Then how are you different from Malekith?"

Odin laughed. "The difference, my son, is that I will win." Then, beating Gungnir on the ground, he dismissed Thor.

Winning. As if victory would bring her back. As if it would change anything. Victory is nothing without the ones we love. Sigyn shook her head, storming out of the room.


Odin soon commanded the Bifrost remain closed and established a war council.

As usual, Sigyn was not invited. She decided against barging in. If Odin was beyond reason, time would be wasted on him.

Besides, they had enough problems to deal with. Beyond the Dark Elves’ return, the Aether had infected Jane, and if they did not act soon, the universe itself could be lost.

Sigyn closed a tome she had been studying. Runes, depicting magical forcefields... And how to counteract them.

She made her way to a case off in the side of her room, grabbing one of Loki's lesser-used daggers - until now, it had been left exclusively on display. She placed it in a sheath on her thigh, which was concealed under her skirt. Then, walking over to the mirror, she studied herself.

Time changes us all, she mused, But how strange that it changed me so quickly. One year out of hundreds, and life has become so... Different. She gazed out the window.

Afternoon. Golden sun bathed all of Asgard in brilliant light, the sky so clear and cloudless that even now, stars shone a little in the distance.

If not for the fact the Dark Elves could attack at any time, it could be considered a perfect day.

Every passing minute was agony.

We must act - we can’t wait for Malekith to strike first. Thor had a plan.. He would know what to do. Sigyn straightened up. If I can be of service to him...

She quickly turned, throwing on her special black cloak before jogging off to find Thor.


That night, Thor, Fandral, Sif, Heimdall, Volstagg - and for once, Sigyn, met in the dead of night. They sat around a candlelit table in the back room of a tavern, concealed by the darkness.

Thor was first to speak. "What I'm about to ask of you is treason of the highest order. Success will bring us exile and failure shall mean our death...

...Malekith knew the Aether was here, he can sense its power. If we do nothing he will come for it again, but this time lay waste to all of Asgard. We must move Jane off world."

"The Bifrost has been shut down and the Tesseract locked away in a vault," Sif noted, followed by Heimdall.

"There are other paths off Asgard, ways known only to a few."

Thor leaned over the table. "One, actually."

Sigyn's heart fluttered in her chest.

"No." Volstagg said, earning a warning glance from Sigyn. Their gazes met, then broke as they turned back to Thor.

Fandral sighed. "He will betray you."

"He will try." Thor responded.

"Of course he will," Sigyn leaned closer, "But if he has enough incentive to help you, then he will fight for you until his dying breath. If nothing else, Loki is useful to you. He's miserable in that cell..."

Thor looked at her intently. Fandral raised his brows, watching her.

Sigyn's face flushed as she realized her mistake. She cleared her throat.

".. I may have visited him."

"May?" Fandral smirked.

"How did you get past the guards?" Thor's eyes never wavered. Sigyn tilted her head at him and lifted her hood, disappearing from sight.

"Oh, Sigyn.." Volstagg sighed. "Loki's all but ruined her." He lamented as Sigyn dropped the hood again, unable to contain a mischievous smirk.

"Did you know?" Thor turned to Heimdall, who shook his head.


I fooled the gatekeeper? Sigyn glanced down at her cloak. You deserve a name, my tricky friend.

"Well, what then?” Fandral piped up, “Your lovely mortal is being guarded by a legion of our Einherjar who will see you coming from miles away."

Thor looked at Sif. "I won't be the one who comes for her."

Sif met Thor's gaze. "And what of the Allfather?"

Now Heimdall spoke. "It is my sworn duty to notify him of crimes against the throne."

"Assuming you can get Loki's help, and you can free this mortal - what good would it do?" Volstagg huffed, growing agitated, "We'd all be dead the minute we step one foot outside the palace."

"That, my friend, is where we won't be leaving by foot." Thor answered.

"It's settled, then. Each of you know what you must do." Sigyn looked at Thor, "But what of me? Even with this," she motioned to the cloak, "I'm still the trickster's wife. Not to be trusted."

"That is precisely why you are needed," Thor smirked slightly, "You will help guarantee Loki is on our side."


Thor walked down to the dungeons, seemingly alone. Approached Loki's cell, where the ebony-haired god was waiting.

The inside of his cell was perfect.. Too perfect. Immaculately clean and put-together, like its lone tenant, who watched Thor with a critical gaze.

"Thor.." Loki walked up to the barrier. "After all this time and now you come to visit me." He stopped. "Why?” He sneered, “Have you come to gloat? To mock?"

"Loki, enough." Thor remained straight-faced. "No more illusions."

The trickster's eyes widened, then defeated, he disappeared.

The true Loki appeared in the far end of the cell - which was revealed to be a complete wreck, destroyed furniture strewn about it. He was sitting there against the far wall, just as disheveled as the messy room around him.



"Now you see me, brother."

Thor walked closer to him.

"Did she suffer?" Loki watched him. His eyes were tinted red - he'd been crying.

"I did not come here to share in our grief. Instead I offer you the chance of a far richer sacrament."

Loki's gaze darkened. "Go on."

Thor watched him intently. "I know you seek vengeance as much as I do. You help me escape Asgard and I will grant it to you, vengeance. And afterward, this cell."

Loki examined the cell, then looking back at Thor, chuckled. "You must be truly desperate to come to me for help."

Thor turned, slowly walking away.

"What makes you think you can trust me?"

"I don't." Thor stopped and faced him again. "Mother did. You should know that when we fought each other in the past, I did so with the glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere. That hope no longer exists to protect you -

You betray me, and I will kill you."

Loki paused a moment, then hummed. Smiled. "When do we start?"

Thor looked to his right and gave a single, firm nod.

Next to him, Sigyn appeared, the hood of her cloak now pulled down. Loki leaned forward from the wall, his eyes wide and trained on her, glancing over her tear stained cheeks. He gulped.

"Hello, my love." She cast a spell, holding the energy in her hands, "I believe we start now."


Sigyn guided Loki to a small room where his armor was waiting. Remained quiet as she traced the frayed edges of his shirt - a physical reminder of the rage, the despair he felt from Frigga’s death.

He shifted his weight and they locked eyes. There was a distinct pain behind them. The very same pain she had seen before, when he was brought before Odin... Her hands made their way down his waist, eventually pulling off his shirt. She swallowed, almost afraid to touch him - it felt like ages since they’d been this close.

He watched her, quiet, and helped remove his other ragged clothes in turn. Finally, he broke the silence.

"That cloak, where did you get it?"

Sigyn looked at him. "I made it." She grabbed a healing stone and crushed it, forcing herself to remain steady as she healed a scrape on his exposed side.

"You enchanted it yourself?"

She hummed an agreement.

Loki raised his brows, shifting his weight and co*cking one hip. He grabbed his nearby dark green undershirt, pulling it on.

"It was.. It was Frigga’s idea. She showed me the right spells… Hold still," she now healed a wound on his leg, trying desperately to ignored the fact her face felt warm. "We have to do this quickly."

Loki obliged, craning his neck to see the spot she’d healed. “It’s just a bit sore.” He adjusted his shirt.

“I’m sorry..” She stood, helping him dress, wishing they could stay like this - her, tending to him, finally seeing him, finally close to him...

But they had to hurry.

“Don’t be, you did fine.” He still spoke gently. “I can handle this much,” he offered, and she grabbed a comb, urging him to sit while she set to untangling his messy locks.

"I’m sorry we don’t have more time," she murmured, trying to be gentle.

He adjusted his sleeves, pulling on his bracers. "Thor wouldn’t allow that. Though I’m sure you asked anyway."

"It was worth a try.." She ran her hands through his hair, tucking it back behind his ears. "I had hoped to at least see you, let you bathe, let you sleep properly.."

"I’m an enemy of Asgard, remember? We don’t have such luxuries." He pulled his boots on, then stood.

Sigyn set the comb aside, stepping in front of him.

He was beautiful.

Clad in his colors, his body healed, he looked more like himself. And his eyes… Still shielded and colder than before, but now they looked at her intently, taking in the sight of her as long as they could.

"After all this, Odin will see you as a hero." She reached up to caress his cheek. "I’ll make sure of it.. Then we can be together again."

Loki was silent. He placed his hand over hers, keeping it close.

"I promise." She moved closer, their bodies touching, her lips hardly an inch from his, she could feel his soft breath on her skin-

Knock knock.

Thor. He was still waiting outside. Sigyn pulled away. "We have to go."

Loki’s shoulders dropped, and he nodded. "Well. Let’s not keep them waiting."

#loki x sigyn#loki fanfic#logyn#OG616#thor: the dark world


Oct 30, 2020

A Parting Gift

TRIGGER WARNING – major death, heavy angst, you have been warned. Please read this fic at your own risk or skip this if you are not comfortable with this kind of content.


This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“MAMA!!!” Sarada screamed as she ran back.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening right now.

It was too sudden, only moments earlier, a man had infiltrated Sakura and Sarada’s hideout in the outskirts of Konoha territory, deep in the forest. Many enemies had been targeting the sharingan, forcing sixteen year-old Sarada and her mother into hiding. Sakura sensed the intruder as he had tripped a well-concealed trap. Sakura roused Sarada and quietly ordered her to escape. Sakura would deal with the intruder. Sarada had slipped away roughly a few hundred meters away when the first sounds of the scuffle broke out, leveling the land and the trees. The fighting shifted to an open clearing before all sounds stilled. Sakura had not yet caught up with Sarada when she was about a quarter mile away. Disobeying her mother’s orders, as Sarada sensed something was wrong, she turned around and headed back.

Sarada quickly neared the scene of the battle, a feeling of dread mounting in her heart.

Then she saw it.

The glinting blade descended from the sky swiftly impaling Sakura’s chest, through her body. Despite not piercing Sakura’s heart, the chakra-charged weapon disrupted and distorted the regularly beating rhythm of the cardiac muscle.

Sakura’s figure suddenly stalled. It was like slow motion in Sarada’s eyes. Whoever this rogue ninja was, from what Sarada’s sharingan could see from the distance, possessed the sharingan, but the chakra surrounding his eyes seemed different from “natural” Uchiha chakra. There were only three true sharingan left in the world: her father, Sasuke Uchiha’s, singular sharingan and her own paired set. Hers were the only ones still with their original owner.

Tears blurred Sarada’s vision as she watched her beloved, but powerful mother struggle against the blade as she mustered her strength. Blood flew out of Sakura’s mouth as she coughed violently. Sarada continued to race towards her mother, but she was still too far away to help. Oh, if only she could teleport like her father!

“GET BACK SARADA!” Sakura roared, byakugou flaring to life and snaking around her body. The wound partially closed to seal off the blood flow for a few precious minutes. Sakura reached forward, grabbed the blade protruding from her chest, pulled and sank it deeper into her chest, through her body, surging forward towards her attacker. Fist raised. Charged.

“MAMA STOP! Just get away from him!” Sarada cried out desperately.

“NO! They’re not taking you! They will not have your eyes! Not on my life! And not on your father’s! SHANAAROOOOOO!!!”

A final yank on the blade propelled Sakura forward. The glowing fist connected. It was the hardest chakra-enhanced strike Sarada had ever witnessed from her mother. A shockwave radiated from the point of contact, catching Sarada off guard, knocking her off her feet. Sarada flew backwards, slammed into ground, the wind knocked out of her lungs. The last thing she saw was the rogue shinobi flying away from the contact, the last thing she heard was a loud reverberating crack as her mother’s opponent plummeted into the ground from the impact. The ground split open and boulders, debris and dust hurled into the air.

In the next second, the rocks driven upward by the explosive impact of her mother’s chakra-charged fist, rained down

As the dust cleared and settled, Sarada slowly got up, frantically scanning the vicinity for her mother. She spotted her mother lying on the ground a few yards away, sword jutting from her chest, with her characteristic pink hair, blood-stained, in the epicenter of the battle that took place.

Sarada raced to her mother’s side and kneeled down, clutching Sakura’s hand.

“No, this can’t be happening, not you too.” Sarada whispered, feeling for a pulse that was erratic and faint, weakly beating.

“Sarada, look at me,” Sakura’s voice whispered, hoarse, but tender. Sad, but proud and confident.

“No. No. No.” the tears fell from Sarada’s eyes and onto her glasses, obscuring her vision.

“Mama, you can fix this, you have the byakugou, I have byakugou, we can do it! We can summon Katsuyu-sama,” Sarada begged, knowing that her plea was empty.

“No sweetie, you need to keep storing chakra for your byakugou, it’s not ready yet. Something about that blade’s chakra upset the rhythm of my heart. I can already tell it can’t be reset without withdrawing the invading chakra, resetting the network and hours of surgery that Katsuyu-sama alone cannot perform. I would need a top medic team and Shizune-san to operate on me. From my brief analysis, this isn’t an injury to heal, it’s a disturbance, my wounds and heart would heal physically but the rhythm would still be incorrect and slowly kill me before I made it back. This enemy clearly knew who they were dealing with, and he also knew where to find us. Our location must have been betrayed and I think he must have once crossed paths with your Papa. But at least they won’t take your eyes. You’re safe, my love.”

“I can’t lose you too, papa is gone already.” Sarada didn’t realize, but her sharingan was spinning erratically, already changing due to the loss of the greatest love of her life, her mother.

“Two sharingan transformations in one year…and a new one at that...” Sakura murmured. “Sweet child, listen to me, while we still have time, I need you to come closer to me and close your eyes.”

“I can’t, I want to see your last moments.” Sarada vigorously shook her head.

“Just do it,” Sakura whispered urgently. “I’m not sure if this will work, but I need to try.”

Sarada looked at her mother in wonder, “what is—“


Sarada complied and snapped her eyes shut, leaning in, though the tears were still freely flowing. Sakura pushed Sarada’s glasses aside and gently touched her eyelids. Warmth emanated from Sakura’s hands. The soothing chakra flowed into Sarada’s eyes, but something else akin to power and rejuvenation did as well. This chakra felt different than usual from healing chakra, Sarada gathered, but could not figure out what her mother was trying to do.

After a few minutes. Sakura’s hands left Sarada’s eyelids. Slowly, the hands moved to remove Sarada’s glasses.

“Open your eyes, Sarada.”

“But I can’t see without my glasses.”

“It’s okay, I think you can.”

Sarada slowly opened her eyes and looked at her mother’s green ones. The byakugou seal had disappeared from Sakura’s forehead. Sarada gasped in realization. Her vision was clear and sharp. Sarada quickly looked around her, at the dead rogue ninja corpse, to the destroyed clearing, and back at her mother.

“You really do look so much like your father without those glasses.” Sakura chuckled weakly and ever so lovingly. Taking a shaky and deep breath, “it looks like my forbidden jutsu worked.”

“What did—?”

“I imbued your sharingan with my byakugou seal. Effectively, I also repaired the genetic mutation in your eyes that caused myopia. I’ve been secretly working on this jutsu because I didn’t want you to go blind from the mangekyou sharingan that awakened when your father died. The infusion of byakugou was essentially to grant you the properties of eternal mangekyou sharingan, in theory, so that you can use your eyes freely. The amount of chakra contained in my seal is now within your eyes and will, for the rest of your life, continually heal the damage inflicted from using the mangekyou. You have no sibling to donate sharingan eyes to you, so with my jutsu, the blindness that would have occurred from using your mangekyou, will not happen to you, I made sure of it. I was saving this jutsu for the day I no longer needed my byakugou seal,” Sakura, paused, a dry cough escaping from her lips. “Darling, you need to find who stole your father’s eyes and reclaim them. The clue lies within this man’s body. You must have noticed too, he had mutated his own eyes to sharingan eyes. They are not the original. They must have gotten the DNA from your father’s eyes.”

Sarada’s trembling lips kissed her mother’s forehead. “I will find them—promise. Thank you... I-I love you ma-ma--,” Sarada’s voice broke.

“I’m going to join your father soon,” Sakura said softly, reaching up to touch Sarada’s face, tenderly stroking her cheek. “You are destined to be the first Uchiha to become hokage. Bring peace and love we are still sorely missing back to the world. I know you can do it, you’re such a brave and smart girl. I’ve... always loved you so much before you even existed... be strong, my love.”

Sakura’s face broke into a last brilliant and radiant smile as she reached up with two fingers and poked Sarada’s forehead one last time.

With the loss of the byakugou seal, a few more harsh breaths, Sakura’s hand grew limp and slowly fell away from Sarada’s face. Those beautiful green eyes once so full of life and vivacity, glazed over, their light extinguished forever.

Sarada crumbled. She bent over her mother’s body and screamed, wailed and cried like her heart had shattered into a million pieces.

Sarada cried until she no longer had any tears left. As the last wracking sobs left her body, Sarada steeled herself and slowly rose to her feet, resolving to return her mother’s body to Konohagakure and lay her mother to rest next to her father’s grave. Biting her thumb, Sarada quickly drew a seal and summoned Katsuyu. Somberly, the slug bowed down to honor her late great master with a brief moment of silence. Sarada choked back sobs that threatened to tear out of her throat once more.

“Katsuyu-sama, please transport the rogue ninja’s body back to Konoha for investigation. I will follow with my mother’s body.”

“As you wish, Lady Sarada.”

Gathering herself, Sarada activated her newly transformed sharingan and cast Susanoo. This time, it was perfect because of her mother’s parting gift. Reaching down with Susanoo, Sarada removed the sword from and lifted her mother’s body, cradling her. Slowly she turned in the direction of Konoha village, to head back and inform the village that the last of the neo-sannin, her mother, had been killed in action.


Closing thoughts:Hey everyone, thanks for reading! I am so sorry for that. I would be lying to all of you if I said I didn’t tear up while writing this. This hurt me so much. But I had this idea for a long time (this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year now) of a workaround for Sarada’s eternal mangekyou sharingan given she lacks siblings in canon. I have always hesitated to post this because of the major character death(s) (if we include Sasuke’s and Naruto’s) and I didn’t want anyone getting angry at me ^^;

I definitely made up more than a few plot points to get the fic going, but the main purpose of this fic was to just explore the idea of how Sarada would receive a work-around to the eternal mangekyou sharingan and for me, the idea was from Sakura developing a forbidden jutsu behind the scenes to treat Sarada’s vision permanently and Sakura administering the treatment on her deathbed. I also just really wanted to explore the emotions that would have occurred in such a scene, and some of these quotes have already been in my mind for some time. I could see this potentially being a multichap fic with how it is set-up with loose-ends and it would be Sarada-centric as she tries and tracks down who is behind the killings of the neo-sannin and getting Sasuke’s eyes back, but I am going to leave this as a standalone one-shot fic.

Also feel free to yell at me if I didn’t tag this correctly, but I do believe it counts as a SasuSaku and SasuSakuSara fic.

#sasusaku fic#sasusaku fanfiction#sasusakusara fic#sarada uchiha#sasusaku#mywriting#my writing#laine-o writes
Top Posts Tagged with #you can escape it physically but the stain cannot be removed | Tumlook (2024)
Top Articles
Latest Posts
Article information

Author: Prof. Nancy Dach

Last Updated:

Views: 6369

Rating: 4.7 / 5 (57 voted)

Reviews: 88% of readers found this page helpful

Author information

Name: Prof. Nancy Dach

Birthday: 1993-08-23

Address: 569 Waelchi Ports, South Blainebury, LA 11589

Phone: +9958996486049

Job: Sales Manager

Hobby: Web surfing, Scuba diving, Mountaineering, Writing, Sailing, Dance, Blacksmithing

Introduction: My name is Prof. Nancy Dach, I am a lively, joyous, courageous, lovely, tender, charming, open person who loves writing and wants to share my knowledge and understanding with you.