Conviction
(A Loki Drabble)
"Even I don't know what it does. Should we find out?" A Midgardian. Average height and weight. Caucasian. Straight mouse-brown hair. Balding. Sharp but otherwise unremarkable eyes. A weathered sadness in them, but only noticeable if one squinted. A large nose. A plain charcoal gray suit and a plain black tie, tailored acceptably, but nothing stunning. Tidy and normal and the picture of "sufficient." Holding a large bazooka that Loki could recognize, from ten feet away, was built from Destroyer technology.
From his own grave miscalculation, in New Mexico, so many months ago--or was it years? Loki had lost track of
One Hell of a Game Afoot, CH2 by AmberPalette, literature
Literature
One Hell of a Game Afoot, CH2
Chapter Two: Ratiocination
A man stood in the foyer of an opium den.
But not just any man. An important and dangerous and ingenious man, stooping with height through the low doorway, wearing a drab waistcoat under a set of black professorial robes.
And not just any opium den. The largest, the best-"recommended," opium den in Whitechapel, run by Shanghai's youngest, and yet most powerful, mobster.
This man loved power and wit. And so he came to this particular opium den for a reason.
He didn't proceed inside yet, though he checked his pocketwatch, and his host was due to greet him in mere moments.
The sea of lost and hiding souls writh
One Hell of a Game Afoot, CH 1 by AmberPalette, literature
Literature
One Hell of a Game Afoot, CH 1
Chapter One: The Woman
He was in heaven.
"You really once made love to a female doctor?" The voice was deep, smoky, honeyed. A throaty, syrupy contralto.
Bliss.
He was a seasoned lover. In his twenty-eight years, the roster had already grown so long he'd lost count. Even so, the vision sprawled beside him on his futon in the rich yet dank quarters inspired a sophomoric desire to brag.
"Why, yes," he drawled. He rolled over and pressed his lean, muscle-bound form against hers. "The Phantomhive heir's aunt, no less."
"What a conquest." She was slender, her breasts small and firm, and her skin the complexion of peaches and cream. Her ha
CHAPTER TWO
If you could only see the beast you've made of me
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free
Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart
I drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart
You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to
Howl, howl
Howl, howl
The fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress
Until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest
The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'd ground
And howl
~Florence and the Machine
There were no fields of morning glories in the Kataart Mountains.
House of Secrets, Part 2 by AmberPalette, literature
Literature
House of Secrets, Part 2
The House of Secrets
Part 2. Xelloss's Perspective.
I have always known that Filia Ul Copt derives quixotic courage from my presence.
I have always known that we are mirrored. That outrage consumes her at seeing her inverse, her shade, her purple feral anti-reflection, in a perpetrator of historic genocide against her race. That her anger makes her feel, perversely, invincible.
I know that I am her secret weapon. It is a fact both comical and horrifying.
Allow me to reminisce, because that abandoned mansion was a perfect example. The recklessness that I inspire was the real reason why she "permitted" me
Face It
A Slayers Fanfiction
CHAPTER 1
((Author's Note: Yet another Xelloss X Filia fanfiction at last! :D I apologize for the long hiatus and for my general hermit-like state in the Slayers community of late. My fandoms cycle pretty quickly, but I'll never get tired of this pairing. They're my OTP of all time, and Slayers is my all-time favorite animanga.
With much encouragement from Skiyomi/Llybian Minamino, Lilybotanica, and Ragnablast, and borrowing a prompt from Skiyomi due to her generosity, I'm going to tackle the very complex concept of Filia going BACK to the golden dragon temples, seeking haven there as a returned priestess. Thi
Weighed and Measured, Slayers by AmberPalette, literature
Literature
Weighed and Measured, Slayers
Weighed and Measured
A Slayers One-Shot
By Amber C.S. ("AmberPalette")
The shrieking of mangled corpses falling to their deaths outside the temple where he faced off with her ancient and heartless Supreme Elder. Deaths at the hands of two tyrannical gods of another world. This provided him leverage. Time. An opening. She dropped her guard, turned her warm, pale head toward the howling distraction. He lunged.
He seized and twisted her arm. He marveled at how her flesh gave so softly under his steely fingers as he slid his staff, his weapon, across the expanse of her neck, pinning her against hi
Gin and Rangiku Drabbles 1 by AmberPalette, literature
Literature
Gin and Rangiku Drabbles 1
There is a hole in the roof of our abandoned barn, our home. It's slaking down rain through that hole, giving us no shelter.
She stands up in the rain because she thinks there's no escaping it anyway. Her eyes are the same color of the grieving sky right now, but there are times when I catch them in a fugitive light that makes them a far brighter blue. I would give anything to catch such a light for good, to shove such a light in a jar and feed it to her like thick golden honey, so that it would shoot out the tips of her hair and her fingernails and toenails and especially her eyes that grieve with the sky