#//roaring moon is cool af

[professor-devious]

THIS IS A ROARING MOON HATE POST

I DONT KNOW WHY I HATE THIS ONE SO MUCH

DUMB GUY

IM GONNA BONK HIM WITH A CLUB

thats the end of the hate post

[lunathebee]

hiii love your work🤍

what do you think about the moon boys with a racer gf she enjoys watching motorsports(maybe she participates in them) and enjoys drifting and motorcycles, who do you think would encourage and who would go full protector mode

Hiyaaa ty for sending in a rq, i love this sm but rn I'm too busy with everything to write a proper HC 😭😭

I think Steven would be nervous and go into full protector mode, like he goes to his workplace by bus. Imagine him on Y/n's motorcycle 💀💀 We already got a sneak peek of it through his scene with Layla right? Imagine if Y/n rides this big a$$ motorcycle with a roaring engine 😭😭 He thinks you're cool AF but he's still scared, okay?

And the one that would encourage Y/n (strangely enough) would be Marc. I mean, he's a very... adventurous person and he fights a lot. He lives for the thrill, so he would love it so much if his lover had the same mindset. I can totally imagine Marc riding a motorcycle with Y/n holding his waist from behind 🤭🤭 

And Jake still thinks his car is better lol

[beautifulterriblequeen]

For the kiss prompt, is 36 good? For Ruthari?

…to give up control.

So, uhh, this one got long! And angsty af. Really, really angsty. But you know me and my endings. I did my best to pull out a softer ending. This is a really hard subject though.

cw: fighting, yelling, pushing, Ethari actually swears

Runaan sat quietly, sorting through his pile of freshly picked moonberries in the waning moonlight. One berry, carefully considered and placed in its appropriate bowl, and then the next. No pause interrupted his focus. No emotion rippled the cool mask of his expression.

His deliberate calm was driving Ethari crazy. Perhaps if he had turned further away as they sat, he wouldn’t be getting so irritated right now... The craftsman felt his shoulders stiffen, and he took a deep breath and forced them to relax. Runaan’s moonberrry sorting habits weren’t upsetting. He was just taking his care with life and death as seriously as he always did--

The berry in Ethari’s hand lost its shape in a juicy splatter, and hot rage spiked along his spine. Even with his eyes shut, he could feel Runaan’s sudden focus, cool and intensely turquoise, brushing against him. His husband’s unspoken question flowered open with quiet concern.

The deep crimson juice ran down Ethari’s wrist. He stared at its sweet tickle. Was it a moonberry, or a deathberry? He couldn’t even remember.

Runaan handed a soft cloth into the periphery of his view, silently answering Ethari’s worry. Not juice to be licked clean, then. Poison. Ethari took the cloth without meeting Runaan’s eyes. But its soft paleness, unbesmirched, screamed in denial.

He couldn’t do it.

“How can you do this?�� His words grated like the slow grind of a landslide. One that finally admitted it was falling. One that let go of its illusion of stability. Its momentum was inevitable.

“You’re not talking about the moonberries, are you?” Runaan asked.

Ethari flicked his hand, sending the cloth against Runaan’s chest with a little thud. His husband’s fingers caught it there on instinct. Cradled it over his heart.

Ironic. So, so ironic.

Ethari rolled onto hands and knees and faced Runaan directly. “She. Is. A. Child. Why aren’t you stopping this? Why did you agree to take her? It’s madness!”

Runaan’s brows tightened, and a brief pout of hurt puckered his lip before he smoothed it away behind that thrice-bedamned mask. 

Ethari hated that mask. It was for other people. Not for him. His crimson-stained hand lurched forward and grabbed the front of Runaan’s shirt, crumpling it, soaking it in red. “No, don’t you hide from me, not now. You tell me what in the name of the sacred shadow you were thinking when you said yes to her. This isn’t a picnic, Runaan! It’s not a jaunt, it’s not an outing! You’re the adult. You have the power to instruct. The power to decide. Why were you so soft with her, the one time I needed you to be hard? Why?”

Runaan’s eyes met his, and the ice in them frosted his breath. He wrapped one hand around Ethari’s and tried to tug it off his shirt. 

Ethari didn’t let him. The corner of his mouth curled into a snarl, and he tightened his grip further. His gaze flattened into cold steel. “Answer me.”

Runaan’s eyes flickered wide for a moment, flashing from Ethari’s, down to their taut and tangled grasps. Without looking up again, Runaan shifted his grip, added a twisting push with his other hand, and popped Ethari’s grip free. He flowed like water to his feet and began striding out of the clearing, leaving Ethari alone in the moonlight with his questions and his anger.

No.

Ethari’s bowl of moonberries cracked against the tree next to Runaan’s head, and red fruits rocketed out in a juicy explosion, leaving Runaan splattered with crimson. He jerked to a stop, shoulders stiff, hands in fists.

Ethari matched him, chest heaving hot, red edging his vision, nearly in tears of desperation.

“It’s for the best.” Runaan’s voice was quiet.

“No, it isn’t. Don’t you lie to me.” Ethari’s voice grew tighter and louder with each sentence. “Not about Rayla, don’t you dare.” 

“It’s not a lie.” Runaan still hadn’t turned to look at him.

“It’s not for her best, then,” Ethari amended. “Runaan, you know her heart. You know what this will do to her. She’s too young! You can’t. You can’t take her.”

“I have no choice. She asked to participate, and she was right to do so. She knows what truly matters, Ethari.”

Ethari threw his arms wide, though Runaan couldn’t see it. “And I don’t? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m no assassin, so I must not see the world properly? I love Rayla too, and I’d do anything for her. You know I would! But this isn’t helping her. What if something goes wrong?”

Runaan raised his chin and stared into the gloomy forest ahead. “I won’t let that happen.”

“What if she has to take someone? At fifteen, Runaan? Even you weren’t that young.”

Runaan jerked his head sharply, letting Ethari see his face in profile. “I won’t let that happen, either.”

A rampant growl escaped Ethari’s mouth. For a moment, raging in the moonlight, he understood werewolves all too well. “Then why in the fuck are you taking her with you at all?”

At his sudden curse, Runaan spun in surprise. The look on his face was open for a moment. Vulnerable. Streaks of berry red crossed his forehead and marked his cheek. A blooded assassin, ready to soak Rayla as well. Ethari stalked closer. Runaan’s brows lowered again, and he reassessed Ethari with a guarded look. “I told you, my heart,” he murmured. “I have no choice.”

Ethari seized the front of Runaan’s shirt again and tugged him onto his tiptoes. “Stop! Just stop it! Stop it all, tell everyone you made a mistake! Let her stay with me! Stop this, Runaan! Or I will!”

Runaan’s hands flew to cup Ethari’s. A protective grip. Why would he protect Ethari, but not Rayla? “No, you can’t. You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will!” Ethari roared. “Someone must! Someone must look out for Rayla, and if you’ve lost your mind and turned your back on Rayla’s heart, Runaan, then by the moon in its orbit, I will step up and do it myself! No matter what the cost! You, of all people, not willing to do whatever it takes for Rayla?” He looked Runaan up and down, seeing his markings, his horn cuffs, his tunic patterning, and all that it said about him. Every inch of Runaan proudly proclaimed who he was, to anyone who could read it. But in his rage, Ethari loosed a deadly strike. Glaring at the pendant he’d lovingly crafted for his husband so long ago, he growled, “I don’t know who you are right now.”

A soft grunt of pain from Runaan’s lips told him his daggered words had found their mark. Runaan squeezed Ethari’s hands as they gripped his shirt. “Ethari...”

But Ethari refused to meet Runaan’s eyes. If he did, he knew what he would see. He didn’t want to get distracted into softness, as Runaan so often managed during their arguments. He needed answers. Facts. Truth. Things his husband tended to hoard behind locked doors and series of traps. Sometimes, Ethari could disarm them. Other times, he had to march through and take the hits. Like now.

“I won’t fight you on this,” Runaan said. His voice was low, but it held a strange edge to it. “You can’t fight this.”

“I can!”

“You can’t win, my heart.”

Ethari’s gaze sharpened to an outraged point. “Are you...? You’d have taken her even if she hadn’t asked, is that what you’re hinting at?”

Runaan’s eyes widened sharply. “No, I--”

“Don’t you dare lie to me about that!” Ethari’s voice broke as he reached the edge of his hope. Was Runaan truly so dark that he would willingly spend Rayla’s life to expunge the stain of dishonor Lain and Tiadrin’s betrayal had drenched them with?

Runaan let out a sharp hiss of breath, twisted his grip on Ethari’s hands again, and shoved him back into the middle of the moonlit clearing. Ethari caught his balance and clapped a hand over his chest, where Runaan had pushed him away. His husband stood as if hunched against some unseen attack, shoulders heaving, head bowed, one hand outstretched to ward off Ethari’s return. Moonlight kissed his horns and lit his hair, but he was not beautiful. Not like this.

Ethari straightened and marched right back to Runaan, stopping just out of reach, hands on hips, chin high. “I’m not letting this go.”

Runaan’s bright gaze snapped up to his, eyes shimmering with hidden hurts and the tears they freed. “The tighter you hold it, the harder it grips me,” he whispered shakily.

Ethari’s fury faltered, stuttered, shifted gears. “I’m not... Runaan... Change your mind, then!” He threw his hands in the air.

Runaan clutched fists against his chest and bowed his head again. 

“No, don’t you dare keep that to yourself. Talk to me, what are you hiding?” When Runaan didn’t answer, Ethari took his face in his hands and forced their eyes to meet. Runaan’s gaze narrowed. He didn’t like being forced to make eye contact. But Ethari was past politeness. “If you shut me out again, Runaan, I swear on the Moon’s holy light--”

“I told you,” Runaan growled.

“Tell me again,” Ethari growled back.

“I. Had. No. Choice.”

Ethari blinked. Runaan had said that. And Ethari had blown right past it as the deflection he assumed it was. “No choice in what?” he goaded, searching his husband’s eyes for hidden truths.

“I cannot change my mind about Rayla, Ethari, because I never made the choice to take her in the first place.” Runaan’s voice remained quiet, but it sounded ragged, a flag battered and shredded by gale force winds.

“What? Then why--?”

“Duty demands--” Runaan began.

Instant fury. “Your duty does not get to demand Rayla’s--”

Runaan clutched at Ethari’s hands as they held his cheeks. The corners of his mouth drooped sadly. “Honor requires--”

“Fuck your honor, Runaan! It’s going to get you killed! You and Rayla both!”

“I KNOW!” Runaan roared. His sudden rage burst across the clearing like a thunderclap, leaving Ethari stunned.

The night went silent around them, quietly turning its back to offer plausible deniability for Runaan’s dark admission.

Both elves trembled in the lull of their argument. Hands fell away, chests heaved for breath, heads bowed. After a moment of silent apology from them both, their eyes met again.

Runaan spoke first. “I know,” he repeated, recovering his soft tone. “Don’t you think I know that? I know it as I know my own heartbeat. It is our fate, Ethari. It has always been our fate, one way or another. But what is served by dwelling on the things we cannot change?”

Lost in Runaan’s blindside confession, seeing only the looming loss of the rest of his most precious family, Ethari pressed the back of his wrist against his mouth to stifle a sob.

Runaan drew in a sharp breath at Ethari’s sudden shift. His gaze found the grass, and soon, so did one of his tears. “I’m sorry.”

The soft angst in Runaan’s tone told Ethari exactly what he was apologizing for. Despite the aftershocks of their fight, he slipped easily into his old reassurances. “No, don’t you dare. My heart chose you, and the life that came with loving you.”

Runaan’s gaze didn’t rise. “If you’d loved someone else... if I’d never told you...”

Ethari eased closer, resting warm hands on Runaan’s bare shoulders. “You didn’t trick me into loving you, Runaan. You’re not nearly skilled enough for such illusions.”

Runaan coughed softly in wry amusement.

“I chose you, as you chose me, remember? I was there. Lunablooms, dancing, our whispered vows? Ringing any bells?”

“Yes, my heart.” Runaan’s voice was small.

“I came into this life with you with my eyes open, as much as they could be. Don’t hold yourself away from me for fear of disappointing my expectations of you. We’re stronger together, remember?”

Runaan nodded once, but his brows rode low with confusion. “You were so upset. I didn’t want to make you feel worse.”

Ethari’s fingers squeezed hard. “Runaan, it got worse anyway, because you didn’t trust me! I’ve only been so frustrated because I...”

“Because you what?” Runaan breathed.

Ethari fiddled with Runaan’s collar, smoothing his shirt atop his shoulders. “We’ve both been right, and we’ve both been wrong, haven’t we?” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” 

Ethari kept his voice low, soft. “You haven’t been putting Rayla first. But that’s because you can’t. Your assassin’s honor won’t let you.”

Runaan closed his eyes and lowered his head. Twin tears tracked over his markings.

Ethari bit the inside of his trembling lip. “And so... there’s no way out, is there?”

Runaan shook his head.

Ethari managed a steadying breath. “Because you’ve looked. You’ve tried to find a way to spare her from this.”

A tiny nod. Hesitant. Uncertain whether it had been enough, and whether it even mattered anymore.

Ethari surged forward, gasping in deep relief, and hugged Runaan tightly. His arms squeezed around his husband, pinning him against his heaving chest. Runaan’s arms hesitantly slid around Ethari in return.

“Then I still know you, my heart.” Ethari’s whisper danced against Runaan’s ear.

A sudden, soft cry flew free of Runaan’s mouth, and he clung hard, digging his fingers into Ethari’s crop top. His cry ended with a deep gasp of relief, and he buried his face against Ethari’s scarf. His shoulders tensed and released, and he nodded against Ethari’s collarbone.

“You keep her safe.” Ethari’s voice was urgent, even as he held Runaan with tight reassurance. “She’s all we have left. Keep her safe.”

Runaan lifted his head, and his steady gaze met Ethari’s. Despite the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks, his breathing was even and his eyes were clear. His brows rose softly, and a small smile lurked in the corner of his mouth. “I’d be lost without the advice of my heart.”

Ethari pulled one arm free and pressed his hand atop Runaan’s chest. “I’d be lost without the dedication of my heart. I should’ve trusted it more, and I’m sorry. I won’t fight you on this anymore. Your way, Runaan.”

Runaan’s expression struggled with angst for a long moment before he nodded. “My way. For what it’s worth.”

Ethari leaned his forehead against his husband’s. “I trust you with all that I love, my heart. I trust you.”

His lips brushed Runaan’s softly, surrendering to a fate that had held them in its grip for far longer than he realized. If it wouldn’t let them loose, then he’d just have to hang on all the tighter.

Runaan kissed him back with urgent softness, hungry for Ethari’s trust. “I won’t fail you. I’ll make it right. I promise.”

And Ethari smiled and nodded, pretending for love that such things were possible.

[friendocheaven]

Picnic Ask

Ask and ye shall recieve @theaxolotleastofthesun it’s long af tho, so it’s under the cut.

 1.       Where and When is the picnic happening? (Gonna take this as ideal location and season basically)

a.       Milo: Prefers someplace a bit south—warmer than the northern parts of the Eye. Summer in Sun Elf territory would be nice. Not south enough to get jungle-y and humid (Glim can take heat, but draws the line at humidity), but someplace he could retreat to the blessed relief offered by the shade of a scrubby tree and have a good excuse to eat his favorite spicy foods and sweat to cool down.

b.      Glim: as stated above, he doesn’t do well in high humidity. Also not the biggest fan of excessive heat, but will put up with it for Milo’s sake. Were it up to him though, he would prefer an autumn picnic in a cozy shady glen under a still-full canopy of rich reds and violets and sunny yellows. A sigh of crisp wind carrying with it the first hint of winter.

c.       Remmi: Love’s spring, especially when it’s still early. They love the way the fruit trees look while still flowering and the cool, but warming, breeze. They would most enjoy something near water, but with plush green grass still under foot. The Northern Reservoir is well tended, with bright, blossoming bushes hedging cobbled pathways. The surrounding park stretches most of the way ‘round. Remmi would most like a quiet day at the eastern edge—farthest away from the great roaring falls that lead into the canyon. Bonus if there are frogs.

d.      Hani: Loves the dead heat of summer; the feel of warm sun on his skin. A midsummer, late afternoon picnic after a day of splashing around the Southern Sea would be heaven. Sure, the food might get a little sandy, but it wouldn’t stop him from eating and enjoying every second.

2.       What food and drinks do your OCs bring? (you fool! You’re enabling me to indulge my fascination with food culture!)

a.       Milo: Goes all out on the spice—picnic with him at your own peril. He packs extra-hot kimchi, seasoned roasted garlic cloves, Zevi’s falafel recipe, and a few other side dishes that reflect his upbringing by a Southern Dwarf familiar with Halfling food culture. He also gets pretty excited with drinks, bringing three; an iced ginger tea made with turmeric and black pepper, buttercup and honey hwachae (most non-halflings just call it wine even though it’s usually not alcoholic) because he’s (not so) secretly pretty sappy and sentimental, and Baekse-ju to finish off with a good pair for spicy food and just a touch of alcohol.

b.      Glim: Settles for light, seasonal snack foods. He brings a bunch of fresh cut in-season fruit like apples (that yes, he does cut the skins to look like bunnies like his mother used to), a couple loaves of bara brith made with ground dried fruits and nuts served with butter, and a whole basket of pic ar y maen (cookies with raisins and currants mixed in). He brings spiced virgin cider and a fine local white wine to wash it down.

c.       Remmi: As a professional baker, they refused to bring anything but their best to their picnic. They pick finger-food pastries—the best from their eclectic cooking experience and travels. Beignets topped with honey and powdered sugar—in a basket enchanted to keep them fresh and hot and crisp because they take pride in their work. An impressive assortment of petit fors lined up and packed tightly in another container. Muffuletta finger sandwiches with toothpicks holding them together for the more savory inclined guests. And finally some cranberry pastila which they hadn’t made in years and was their way of flexing their baker’s muscles. They pack a thermos of milk tea and an iced chocolate drink.

d.      Hani: not a big cook. He was hoping Senya would do most of the cooking. It’s not like he’s particularly picky about what he ingests. To be polite though, he brings a crock of bamia—a stew with lamb, okra, tomatoes, and onion—that his mother would make on special occasions. He also brings an impressive array of drinks; sugar cane juice, carob juice, tamarind juice, and iced coffee.

3.       What are your OC’s wearing to the picnic?

a.       Milo: Largely his usual sort of outfit. A sleeveless turtleneck, cargo capris, and combat boots. He does add a lightweight cotton shawl embroidered with geese in shades of red that he got as a wedding gift from Lian. He wears it to avoid sunburn, but once in the shade and eating, he carefully folds it and sets it aside so it doesn’t get dirty.

b.      Glim: A cream colored tunic and brown tasseled cardigan over dark blue leggings, simple but sleek black ankle boots, and finished off with a simple sapphire teardrop pendant on a gold chain.

c.       Remmi: they opt for something simple and comfortable, but fitting for the season. They wear a yellow wide-band tank top under an oversized baby pink cable knit sweater. The sweater is so big it slouches off one shoulder, reaches their knees, and the sleeves hide their hands if they aren’t scrunched up at the elbow. They pair that with slim, washed out jeans, and a pair of tan slouchy boots. As one final touch, they don cherry blossom studs in their ears.

d.      Hani: he goes for something sporty and comfy. A loose and flowy off-white sleeveless crop top over a pair of baggy gray-blue shorts held round his hips by a broad and colorful sash and a pair of greek sandals that he discards almost immediately. To add a touch of class—after all this is a fun outing so why not—he wears golden arm bands just above each bicep. Those stay on longer, but they, too, eventually get unceremoniously dumped into the picnic basket in favor of total comfort.

4.       Which OC brings a musical instrument to idly play?

a.       Surprisingly enough, Hani. Remmi knows a little piano and harp, but those aren’t exactly available at a picnic. Milo has never learned an instrument (though he finds guitar interesting). And Glim tried playing, but sucked at just about everything; and anything he could play he couldn’t play in front of others. Hani, on the other hand, randomly knows how to play—and is good at—the oud (which is like an Arab lute). And yes, he does attempt to play Wonderwall on it.

5.       How quickly does your OC realize there are ants trying to sneak into their food? What do they do about it?

a.       Milo: He’s very perceptive, so it doesn’t take long for him to notice. He proceeds to squish them then mix them into his food for “extra protein” without hesitation. Despite knowing that Milo was raised eating bugs and still does fairly regularly, everyone still looks at him like he’s gone insane.

b.      Glim: He picks up on it when someone else points it out. It’s only then that he realizes that he forgot to activate the insect repellent rune. He curses under his breath and apologizes before quickly moving the picnic supplies a few meters away and activating it then.

c.       Remmi: They spend the whole picnic low-key looking out for this. Whenever bugs start walking toward or flying around their precious gourmet picnic, they nonchalantly close all the containers up tight then swat them all away without breaking the conversation.

d.      Hani: he doesn’t notice until one of the ants bites his tongue as he’s eating. He spits that one out because it was mean, but all subsequent ones he eats. And unlike Milo, Hani doesn’t mix them into anything, he just pops them into his mouth.

6.       Which OC hides under the shade at first before being convinced to come out into the sun? How do they react?

a.       Glim hates the heat. If you can manage to convince him to leave the tranquility of shade, he will be a drama queen about it. Really laying it on thick and moaning about how “the sun is a white hot laser” against his “poor fragile flesh” and that if he continues on he will surely “burn up, dry out, and die!” and other such dramatic nonsense. He gets weirdly poetic when he’s frustrated or cranky. Needless to say, Milo has ceased pushing the issue.

7.       Imagine your OCs spending their time picking nearby wildflowers and watching the butterflies and bees at work.

a.       Milo foregoes this particular activity, choosing this time instead to just take in the scenery. He’s scared he might upset a hive or get stung or bitten by something so he’d rather just sit back and soak up the atmosphere.

b.      Glim is carefully rooting around for four leaf clovers under a subdued parasol.

c.       Remmi carefully plucks and cuts an armful of flowers and stems so they can make colorful flower crowns for everyone.

d.      Hani chases the bugs and small animals, not unlike a dog would. But he’s having fun so it’s fine.

8.       Which OC foregoes a picnic blanket and sits directly on the ground? Are they concerned by the grass stains on their clothes afterwards?

a.       Hani doesn’t care where he plants his butt and cares almost as little about stains.

9.       Which OC brings a chair because they can’t stand the thought of sitting on the ground?

a.       Remmi, but a lot of it is because they don’t want to risk getting their clothes too dirty and also because the ground is never as soft and even as you think or hope. So sitting on the ground, even on a blanket, hurts their butt.

10.   Imagine your OCs falling asleep after eating their food, content and happy.

a.       Milo is one of the first to nod off and lays down in the shade. He kicks his shoes off and lets the sun warm his feet while the shade keeps his face cool. He wakes up to groggily help pack everything back up.

b.      Glim doesn’t actually fall asleep. He just sort of zones out while playing with Milo’s hair and enjoying the breeze.

c.       After loading up on carbs, Remmi dozes off in their chair and wake up with a tender sunburn spread across their nose and cheeks. They vow to never fall asleep in the sun like that again, but they make the same mistake next time.

d.      Hanni has seemingly boundless energy throughout the day, which is a bit unusual for him as he often naps a lot when the sun is out, but is wired by the time the moon replaces it. As soon as they’ve packed everything up and are headed home, though, the excitement wears off and he crashes hard. He’s asleep the whole way back.

[writing-for-the-stars-and-moon]

Gods Forsaken Pantheon

There’s a lot of deities and regional deities, so I’m going to try to keep this as an overview and focus on the major deities or important deities to the WIP.

Nengal

Goddess of rebirth and snakes

Born when the Great Snake was slain and its blood mingled with the sand

Somewhat capricious and cautious

Has problem of killing humans when she’s upset with them (hence why many don’t survive her trials to become a priest)

Has a hard time grasping the concept of death

As far as anyone can tell, she can’t be truly killed

Weapon of choice: Poison

Detra

God of death

Nobody’s sure how he came into being

Highly antisocial

Without him, humans would likely die since he keeps the demons in their place

Once ate Isaal because he tried to force Detra to interact

Detra gave him a warning and followed through, Alsedia (Isaal’s sister) got pissed off and killed Detra, Nengal came and revived them both

Often associated with vultures and followed by a pair of lions

Elhanai

Father of the gods, patron of kings, god of the winds

Just as old as Detra

Little interaction with most humans

Ethirat

Mother of the gods, goddess of fertility and motherhood

Consort of Elhanai

Widely worshiped and held in higher regard than Elhanai

Idols of her are buried in the foundation of most homes

Isaal

God of storms

Arrogant af

Created to slay the Great Snake (which he did)

Has a chariot that he rides and brings in the storms, the wheels spark lightning and the sound of it is the sound of thunder, driven by donkeys

He causes a lot of trouble

Just blame everything on him

Has a daughter named Feragul, goddess of fire

Sherah

Guard of the Underworld, daughter of Feragul

Nobody knows what she looks like

Does not speak, communicates through growls and roars

Resheb

God of plagues and healing, Son of Nengal

Held in just as high regard as Nengal and more widely worshiped

Actually pretty shy

One time Isaal scared him and he accidentally caused a plague of locust

More continue under the cut

Javul

Ferryman to the Underworld

Not really worshiped, but he is a deity

Was once human

Honestly pretty chill as far as deities go, just glad if you know about him

Eami

Goddess of freshwater

Protector and advocate of vagrants and travelers

Iradus

God of Earth

consort of Eami

Ugari

Deity of dance

Honestly a personal fav

Them and Feragul are a god damn power couple

Also a former human and priest of Feragul

Feragul

Goddess of fire

She’s pretty cool and I need to post more about her

Telwaneli

God of cattle

Father of lamassu guardians

Alsedai

Goddess of love and war

Aldet

God of grain

Sarisut

God of craftsmanship

Balur

God of the moon

Consort of Aldet

Uktal

Deity of knowledge and scholars

Arila

Goddess of the sun

May or may not actually be a camel that carries the sun on her back

Don’t look into the sun, kids

Namsara

God of shepherds

Histuapi

Goddess of wild animals

Tekhar

Goddess of philosophy, wisdom and the unknown

Another fav of mine

Happens to have the eyes of a cat and wings!

Zelluri

Goddess of dreams, sleep, and stars

Resides in the moment between waking and sleeping - has no temples, usually just a home altar

Khalbet

Goddess of mountains

Yaqar

God of the Ibranai tribe

Actually plays a huge part in this story

Followers are becoming increasingly cult-like and aggressive

While most of these will be in the periphery of the story (and may be subject to change), I rally enjoy designing them and thinking about them.  Especially since the pantheon is huge with a bunch of local and minor deities.  

Tag List: @the-violet-writer​, @ascendingdread7​, @writings-of-a-narwhal​

If you’d like to be added or taken off, please send me a message through my inbox or through DM.

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 4/10

I spent way too long looking at warplanes for this one, because 1) they’re pretty, and 2) after mentioning a certain someone’s plane in the previous chapter, there was no way I wasn’t going to have it pop up again.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 3.5K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

“So, where is it? Where’s all of the shit-talking I used to look forward to? Like, by now I was getting ready for the good stuff, but it’s running out.”

Sharky paused, dropping the tire back down into the back of Hurk’s truck. “About what?”

“Really?” Hurk asked, gaping at him. “You know, the asshat that’s been blackmailing you into doing his dirty work for the last month and a half? Thinking he’s slicker than a greased pig, and he might be because who the hell knows what he uses to keep his hair like that. And palms. You grease those too, not just for jerking, and cuz, you’re killing me here.”

“It’s…I’m not gonna lie, he’s really wigging me out at times. Acting like it’s good to have me around to help and shit. ‘Cause I don’t always work on the boathouse. I’ve helped Joe, I’ve helped move stuff around on the airstrip, I’ve run stuff down to the Peggies’ church. And yeah, being told ‘you’re going to do this today’ instead of doing what I was planning on doing sucks, but the Peggies are kinda nice.”

He wasn’t thinking much of it when Hurk grabbed the firehose running out front. Jerry-rigged outside, it was usually his last-ditch effort when any of the fires outgrew their boundaries.

So, it was easy enough to grab. Easy enough to aim, and - in Hurk’s case - easy enough to point and shoot, especially while he kept his mouth running, none the wiser.

“And John’s all right, too. I know it’s kind of-whoa, whoa, what the-“ A wave of freezing cold water hit his chest, and Sharky sputtered as he threw his hands up. “What the fuck, man? Jesus, just cool it! Cool it!”

Hurk aimed it up and away, and jabbed a finger at him.

“Straight talk. You point me to the spot in the woods where my fave cuz’s tied up and waiting to be beamed up, and I swear I’ll let you go. ‘Til then, you better talk faster, because I don’t even know where to go with ‘Oh, John and the Peggies? Yeah, they’re all right.’”

Teeth chattering, Sharky shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s better. Like he’s decided it’s okay to be a person for once.”

This time he was hit in the face, and he threw both middle fingers Hurk’s way before finally wrangling the hose away from him.

“That’s up my nose now,” he grumbled, feeling it burn as he forced air through it. “Up my nose, which is one of the top ten worst feelings to deal with. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

The spray at Hurk mid-apology was kind of a jerk move on his end, but Hurk had earned it. That and the noogie, as Sharky wrangled him under his arm. If he was going to be forced to drip-dry out here, he wasn’t dealing with that shit alone.

The roar of an engine overhead made him loosen his grip, however. Both of them glanced up, their attention won by the plane soaring by.

Usually Sharky would catch one every once in a blue moon out over here. With the steep hills, it wasn’t always best if you needed to land the plane in an emergency, but that didn’t stop anyone from taking them as high as the pilot wanted it.

This one wasn’t too high in the sky, though. Painted a darker color, it cut a fine line through the air above as it climbed. Spinning in a smooth arc, it curved - rounding back - and Hurk let out a low whistle.

“Look at that, huh? Bet Nick gets up to all kinds of fancy shit up there when he’s off the ground.”

“Yeah. Should ask him if he’d take us up sometime.”

Watching the plane loop back, the pull was almost strong enough to make him want to book it to Nick’s right now. He’d always been curious about the high that came with being in the air; how that ramped up during a dive, or even on a sharp turn.

Something about this plane bugged him, though. Like there was something he was missing that should’ve hit, but wasn’t.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve been up in a bunch of choppers, man, and it’s real sketchy once the cross-winds hit. Gets my lunch doing a loop-de-loop hairier than any airshow’s special, and that feeling even hits when I’m in Tulip.”

“Why? Your ma’s damn good at what she does.”

“It’s always squirrely, feeling the entire thing rock back and forth, back and...” Hurk paused, and slapped at Sharky’s waving arm. “What’re you doing? He can’t see us from down here.”

“And why not? Yeah, he’s – or she, could be one badass babe up there - not skimming the ground, but they’re low enough to see what’s down here if they angle it right.”

Almost as if listening, the plane came back over; the roar of the engine echoing in the air as it came closer. Getting a better look at it now, he could see more of the slick paint job; the dark grey really reminding him of a color he’d seen recently.

As in, within-the-last-couple-of-weeks-or-so recent. Like in a hangar, half-hidden under a tarp.

Finally slapping those last missing puzzle pieces into place, it all clicked this time, and Sharky’s eyes widened.

“Uh, I think that’s John.”

“Say what?”

Hurk’s surprise wasn’t too far off from his own. “Dude, that’s his plane. I don’t think anyone else around here’s got a ride like that.”

Or even in that style, period. It stood out in the sky, and Sharky almost laughed to himself. He would want that attention, and showing off while he was at it? Seemed like a standard thing he’d try for, if given the shot - and right now? He looked set on taking it.

Diving down, his breath caught as the plane soared in a set line towards the ground. Daring to get as close as possible - cutting it a lot closer than he would’ve if given the chance - only to shoot back up above the trees, spinning on the exit.

Yeah, that was John.

Whistling loudly, Sharky whooped before punching Hurk in the shoulder. “Oh, come on. That was pretty fucking neat.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hurk cracked soon after, smiling. “Okay, it was pretty rad, but if that is him, and we ever run into each other and get to talking about it, we ain’t saying shit. Not a single word set on complimenting, talking nice, or doing any of that. Period.”

The plane didn’t come back this time, heading out over the fields as it faded from view.

“Nope,” Sharky said absently, as he kept his eyes skyward. “Not a single fucking word.”

---

Later that day when he messaged John to tell him he was heading in, he didn’t get his usual answer.

Busy in the hangar. Stop by there, will you?

The doors were open as he pulled up outside, and he couldn’t see John when he stepped out. His plane was front and center, one of the side panels open with a tool cart rolled up next to it, and he walked up to get a closer look.

“Tempting as it is, try not to stick your hand in there.”

Sharky held both up, and quickly stepped back. “I didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t say you did anything.” John walked up from behind, wiping his hands down with a towel, smirking all the while. “Just wouldn’t want to lose a finger now. That would be a surefire way to ruin an evening.”

Against all odds, he hadn’t lost one yet. Not to any of his homemade whizzlers, not to any of the cherry bombs, and not to that one incident with the paper cutter in school. Now, really would be a lame time to do it, and in front of John? He’d never live it down.

Flexing his fingers - all ten of them - he shoved both hands into his pockets, and turned towards him.

Dressed in his version of casual, the shirt John was wearing was still too pricey to be anywhere near oil or heavy machinery, but that didn’t faze him. His hands were dirty and he was doing the work. Actually getting in there and taking care of it, instead of shoving it onto someone else, and Sharky could respect that.

But the moves he pulled in the air earlier? Thinking back on them made a whistle want to slip out. John could fly. There was no fucking doubt about it, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to catch him up in the air again at some point.

“So, uh…you take her out today?”

“I might’ve had to check to see how things were running,” John said with a shrug.

“You fly out over towards the Henbane?”

John raised his head, eyeing him curiously. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“See, I was out with my cousin Hurk. Just unloading some tires to use for um, crafting purposes.”

“Crafting. I never took you for the type.”

“Not like the kind with paper, glue, and scissors. Like tire sculptures, or just taking the shit apart to see what we can get out of it, ‘cause there’s at least twenty things you can do with a worn-out tire. We’ve honed it down to an art, man.”

John said nothing further, only examined his hands as he wiped off more of the dirt. He looked up to catch Sharky’s eye while he worked, reminding him that he’d been telling a story before he’d trailed off.

Sharky cleared his throat. Loudly. “Uh, anyway. You, flying.”

John redirected his attention to his hands, but Sharky didn’t miss the way his lips had curved up. “I thought it was you, working?”

“Me, working, distracted by you, flying, and I know I got twisted around in the middle of that, but I saw you earlier. Your plane flying over my house. Now you’re the only guy around here with anything coming close to having one of those warplanes they’d call you in to borrow for re-enactments, movie deals - or, hell - for admiring and shit, so don’t go denying it. And don’t go fucking with me either, ‘cause I know what I saw.”

“Good eye. Sharper than I expected.” John set the towel down on the cart, and walked over to the plane. “Perhaps you can put that eye for detail to good use tonight.”

“What?”

“Affirmation does need some tuning. I was hoping to have it finished before you came by, but…” John frowned, eyeing the engine with distaste. “As you can see here, I’m not quite done yet.”

“Ah, I get that. Shit never works out how you plan it, not with cars, bikes, and I guess planes fit in there too. You wanna get that oil changed before the sun’s up? Should take twenty to thirty minutes max, giving you time to see if the tires are bald enough to turn the road into a dirt-covered slip and slide. Probably would've noticed before then, but it's good to check. And if you’re looking at that, might as well try the brakes.”

He watched John roll over the tool cart, giving him a glance over his shoulder as he did so. Taking the gesture as a signal to keep on going, Sharky took a place just behind him by the cart, and settled in to watch him work.

“…And that weird leak you forgot about two weeks ago? Kiss your afternoon goodbye, ‘cause your radiator’s busted and might’ve been roasting your car from the inside out.”

“Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience.”

“Man, you don’t even know how many times I’ve had my shitbox crater on me. And I take care of it. Maybe not using the stuff that’ll keep the mechanic off of my back if I need to bring it in, but it runs. And I can keep it going on nothing but lint, duct tape, and quarters if I have to.”

“And somehow, in spite of that, it hasn’t exploded or found a way to catch on fire?”

“It did catch on fire. Once.”

John’s eyebrows flew up. “With you in it?”

“Sort of. I might’ve hopped out right after the smoke started coming, ‘cause that crisped-up burnt smell ain’t normal even with a busted heater, but I handled it. Drove it right on down to the Spread Eagle just in time for Happy Hour, too.”

Blinking at him, John slowly turned back to the engine. “Is that the same car you’ve been bringing here?”

“Yep.”

John paused again. “The one that I’ve ridden in?”

“Same one. Drove it, too.”

A few emotions crossed John’s face then. Disbelief held on the longest, as he turned to look right at Sharky.

“What? Like I said, it runs. Long as it does that, I don’t need anything fancier than that to get around. And, hey, if that shit ever does go up and someone needs to handle it, you know I’m damn near certified by this point.”

“Knowing that the county’s resident pyromaniac should be able to put out the fire he also started is not as reassuring as it sounds.”

Sharky frowned. “Yo, you really wanna say that? Seeing as you’re someone that keeps talking shit, all while needing people to call you, confide in you, and hire you for the whole defending-them-in-court thing? Not doing great on the being-anything-but-a-dick part. Just saying.”

John narrowed his eyes, but didn’t fight the point. Just went back to work, and Sharky wasn’t sure what to do with the victory.

Shaking it off, he crossed his arms and tried not to fidget as he watched him. Doing nothing at all was the real challenge, having no choice but to be patient and keep an eye on John instead.

But he hadn’t kicked him out, or told him to go where he was needed most. He was sure he would’ve told him to head down to the boathouse by now - or hell, that he would’ve gone on his own - but he didn’t feel like leaving yet. Not even after the dig. Curiosity won this fight, and he’d let it do its thing for a little while longer.

Glancing over at him, John gave it a second and gestured towards the cart. “Can you hand me that wrench?”

Sharky followed his line of sight towards it. Taking it, he handed it over and couldn’t hold his tongue any more.

“So, you do all of this on your own?”

“It’s important to be able to identify problems as they appear. I could hire someone to do that for me. Easily leave this to them, but having that knowledge beforehand - especially if I do end up having to land - is crucial. And I refuse to let willful ignorance prevent me from fixing anything well within my power and ability. That, and laziness.”

“Laziness?”

“What’s my problem becomes someone else’s to fix. To mend. Affirmation is my responsibility. Shouldn’t I be well aware of how it’s operating before I take off? That kind of carelessness can be prevented.”

“Makes sense.”

“I hope so. Any pilot would do the same if they had any degree of pride in their skills.”

Sharky rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, guess Nick goes through the same checks too. And if I had one, guess I’d have to break out the old toolbox and get into it.”

“Treated better than your car, I would hope?”

“Uh, still fucking rude for one, and two, hell yeah I would. Shit, the closest I’ve come to flying, period, was through honoring Clutch Nixon a few years back – rest his badass, no-longer-beating heart – and I was airborne long enough to love it. If I had a plane, I’d treat her right.”

Sitting up, John gave him a long look. “That doesn’t count.”

“What don’t count?”

“Stunt driving isn’t close to the same thing.”

“So you say, but you haven’t taken a motherfucking dive off of a cliff, amigo.”

“It’s not-” John pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed. “There are measures taken.”

“Yeah, and I know you gotta do more than mess around with your joystick up there, but the fall’s real. The pounding in your heart as it just-” He clenched his fist, and let out a breath, “Fuck, man, you feel alive coming back from that. And get one hell of a massive boner while you’re at it.”

Lowering his hand, John leveled a flat stare at him.

“Yeah, had to give that last one a solid seven point five out of ten. Hell, maybe an eight.”

Still clenching his fist, Sharky held the eye contact, grinning awkwardly all the while. At least until he noticed the marks on John’s face. Three small dark spots, all of which came from his equally stained fingers.

The snicker slipped out before he could help it. “You, uh, got a little something on you.”

Gesturing towards his face, John reached up and nearly added another before glancing down at his fingers. “Shit.”

“Yeah, dude. Might be able to connect the dots at the rate you’re going.”

“Let me just…where did that get to?”

He sorted through the items on the cart before finding the discarded towel, and checked it before swiping at his face.

“Might wanna go to the left.” John shifted it, the spot turning into a streak, and Sharky grimaced. “Uh, maybe to the right?” Streaked again. “Huh. Think you might wanna go back to what you were doing the first time.”

“You aren’t helping,” John said, slapping down the towel to search through the items on the cart. “So, how about you go occupy yourself over there, and we’ll get back to this when I’m certain I’m not covered in dirt.”

John had pointed towards the refrigerator, and Sharky gave him a passing glance before skipping over towards it.

“Could be worse, man. Not like it’s a sharpied dick, or anything.”

Prying the doors open, Sharky didn’t know what he was looking for at first. He knew John had hidden the mystery beer here last time, but that wasn’t what he spotted. No, on the shelves was a pack of his old faithful, and he felt a tear come to his eye.

“Is that acceptable?”

Sharky reached in and held up the six pack, sighing dreamily as he hugged it to his face. “Amigo, I think you’re my new best friend now.”

He heard John scoff somewhere behind him, and turned to see him parked in front of a small handheld mirror. One of the streaks was a bonafide line traveling up the side of his face now, and smeared more when John swiped a finger through it. Tossing the mirror back onto the cart, he clenched his jaw, and went right back to the plane without even waiting for him to come back.

“So, John,” Sharky started, popping the cap off of the beer, “you want me to stick with you up here, dude? ‘Cause I was going to head on down to the river at some point. Just looked like you needed me more up here than there at the time, and…”

“There’s no need.” John replied, his back still to him. “You’ve been making significant progress lately down at the boathouse. Anything else would put you ahead. And after staying up here as long as you have, you’ve earned the time to yourself, if you want it.”

Free to go? Again?

That had him scratching his head as he polished off the beer fast. “Uh, okay. Like, I can do whatever the hell I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

That was music to his ears. At least it would’ve been every other week leading up to this one.

Thinking it over for a while, Sharky tried to think of anything he would’ve done with the time. Anything pressing he’d set aside to come out here after helping Hurk earlier, but couldn’t put his finger on a single thing. Just a whole lot of nothing that would’ve led to a night spent in his underwear on the couch mixing together shit he probably shouldn’t have, or up at the trailer park tuning the speakers.

So, when he looked back over towards the plane, he aimed the bottle in his hand towards it. “You still need someone up here?”

There was the sound of metal hitting metal as John froze. But when he turned to face him, there was no mistaking his surprise.

"What?" Sharky shrugged. “I’ve got the rest of the day to myself, and usually that’s spent doing jack and shit when work’s not coming in, so…if you need it, I’m here. Not that it’s really that big of a deal anyway, you know?”

That got him a smile. One that John held onto long after Sharky expected him to drop it, and he chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“This’ll be the highlight of my day, and I’d like to stick around. Unless you want me out.”

He thought it over, but not for longer than a minute. “If I did, I would’ve told you so.”

“So, back to work?” Sharky asked, starting to smile himself.

John stepped back and held out a hand towards the plane. “Back to work.”

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Opposites Attract Colson Baker X Reader PT 3

Requested By: @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Word Count: 2,461

In one swift movement, Colson sat up and grabbed you, flipping you both so he was hovering over you, the cold of the crisp sheets against his palms and forearms a sharp contrast to the warmth of your heated skin. You let out a breathy yelp at the motion, likely from the cold, but your face returned to its relaxed yet hungry features quickly.

"Not sure what brought out this side of you...but I like it it's sexy as fuck" He acknowledged.

Y/N whined, pawing at his hips, trying to pull him in closer, desperate to feel him. Though you did manage to get his jeans past his hips, it was only just enough to feel him solid and fucking ready through his thin cotton boxer briefs.

But still, he held fast and kept his distance, captivated with watching you squirm under him, "someone's sex drive has kicked into high gear" Colson smirked.

"Please..." You all but cried out desperately.

Colson smirked down at you, brushing your wild hair back and away from your face, "Please what, my love?"

Y/N's head tipped back, rustling your H/C locks around your head like a fanned out golden hallow. However, your words and timbre that followed were anything but angelic.

"Just, fuck me." You moaned.

He growled with pleasure, "What's the magic word, Y/N?"

"Please..." You bemoaned, your hips lifting to chase any type of blissful friction.

He then rolled his hips against your core, the sensation of damp cotton and your slick heat sent a thrill through his entire system.

"Try again," He moaned back.

"Please, baby?"

"Not quite..." He ground himself to you again as your eyelids fluttered closed.

"Please...daddy?"

The first time you said it your face turned beet red when you realized the words that had just left your mouth. "It's an accident!" You had told him hoping honestly that he hasn't really heard it. But he had, "Don't be embarrassed I think what you just said sounds sexy af." He smirked in realization to your newest kink "in fact you should say it more often."

"Mmm. That's perfect." He praised, kissing you deeply.

You whined and withered into the kiss, pouring your frustration into your needy lip lock, your grip on his body nearly clawing. You felt wild; fucking ravenous, a carnal animal, a primal beast even, and at this point, the only blissful cause was the teasing and dominating creature whose body currently pinned your own.

You chased after his lips with another whine when he pulled away teasingly. While sitting on his haunches Colson appraised the half-dressed, laid-out beauty who was all but begging for him. He quickly rocked back on his heels and stood, reaching his hands out to you. With fingers linked he pulled you up to stand before he quickly scooped you up under your knees. He hoisted you against his body and walked you over to a bear skin rug displayed on the floor below. Though his hunger was palatable he deposited you surprisingly gently and you were quick to scootch to the middle of the rug, the soft array of pillows tucked behind your back.

"Strip for me babygirl," Colson instructed with a watchful eye, standing to the side of where you lay.

His deep tone rattled you and you  moved quickly to obey by pulling your dress up and over your head. You dropped it and unclipped your strapless bra, the soft fabric falling into your lap. Your gaze slipped from his as you tossed your delicates onto the floor. You then bent to unclasp the polished ankle strap of your high heels, but his sharp intake of breath stopped you.

Slowly, you raised your gaze and a questioning eyebrow at him.

"-Leave those on." He replied, his voice leaving him before he had a chance to even think about the command.

You smirked and sat back on your elbows, nodding towards his mostly clothed body, "What about you?" You asked with sweet confidence, completely naked, except for your black high heel shoes, "-It's only fair."

Colson gathered his white wifebeater at the back and pulled it over his head briskly, effectively missing his hair. You  swallowed harshly, licking your lips at his open and low strung jeans, his dick straining hard against his grey boxers, begging to be set free. You shifted uncomfortably, desire coursing through you and pounding in your ears like the roar of rushing rapids.

"Get comfortable babygirl." He stated with a nod, stepping out of his jeans and boxers next.

Biting at your lip you preened under your heavy gaze, your back straightening, chin held high, your shoulders pulled taught as he stood hard and bare before you.

Colson basked in his own view, still often blown away by everything Y/F/N Y/L/N and the multifaceted layers to you. How you went from sweet, kind and thoughtful, a friend, a sister, a talented singer, and a hard worker, to...this, was electric. How this alluring woman could go from being an ethereal creature to an enticing creature full of need and wanton and passion and hunger, qualities of which only came to light by his doing, was beyond understanding and downright intoxicating.

"Aren't you going to join me?" You asked, smoothing your hands over the soft fur of the bear skin rug below you.

His cock twitched at the words, demanding attention, "I will."

You inched your legs open a bit wider, "Well, come on then,"

Colson withered slightly at the shift, his eyes roaming over his bared fiancée, "What if I'm still looking for a show?"

"Didn't get your fill earlier?" You breathed back.

Colson shook his head slowly with a boyish smirk and knelt onto the mattress.

"Not even slightly babygirl."

On autopilot now your hands ran slowly up and down the sides and front of your body, slithering, tempting, watching the effect you had on him as he shuffled and shifted at your feet.

"Keep touching yourself."

You laid back against the pillows, fanning your hair out from under your head as you asked with a cunning smile, "Like this?"

Colson inched closer to you on his knees, "Lower."

You tracked down to cup both breasts in your hands, a soft squeeze hitching your breath, "Here?"

"Mmm, yes, and lower,"

You always listened so well that Colson couldn't keep his cool long. But these games of trust and obedience were some of his favourites. These plays for control, these demands from and for one another that never went unfulfilled. He wanted to stretch it out, really make you work for it, but in the process of making you squirm, his own need grew to the point of nausea. His mouth filled up as you slid your hands further down your body, your eyes on his, back bending slightly as your hand landed on the soft mound between your gently spread legs.

You gasped just before you dipped a finger in, "Here?"

He took himself in hand with a groan then as you began to move certain, concise circles over your clit, "Yea. Just like that."

"You like watching me, don't you, Daddy?" You whispered through another moan.

Colson hummed lowly, "How could I not? Have you seen you?" He asked. "Your hot as fuck babygirl."

You let out a breathy giggle, soon replaced with a moan as you slide your fingers into your center to gather more slick arousal back up to your clit, "Lucky for you, I love it when you watch."

Unable to speak Colson just nodded along and stroked himself, slowly, trying to pace himself, trying to stay focused, trying to allow this astonishing fantasy to play out. But he felt feverish and desperate and he could sense the very same in you. And when you picked up your pace, your back bowing so beautifully, with your breaths and moans panting his efforts unconsciously met your own.

The low pressure at the base of his spine crept up and threatened to take him over before he let himself go and grabbed ahold of both your ankles.

"Stop." He demanded with a soft tug on your legs, but you ignored him, too wrapped up and gone in the moment, "-Y/N, honey. Stop."

You whined lowly but listened, moving your hands away from your sex to grab ahold and white knuckle the fur below you in frustration.

"I was so close." You growled as you pulled your knees together, clenching your thighs to numb the pain.

He moved and inched your knees apart again, his hands gliding up your legs to open you up in front of him.

"I crave you Colson."

"Do you now?"

Nodding slowly you hummed your answer as Colson bent in and pressed his lips up the insides of your thighs, cool breath breezing across your glistening heat.

He couldn't resist another taste but you were so beyond borderline already. Still, he wanted you to come undone around him, wanted to feel you shatter while buried to the hilt. With all the build-up you both had gone through, all the flirting, the teasing, the petting, he knew he wasn't going to last too long. So he nuzzled into your velveteen folds for the second time that night and feasted on you, pushing you almost to the point of no return again.

You nearly cried actual real-life tears when he denied you for a second time and the long drawn out wail that bloomed from your chest held none of that frustration back.

"C-Colson, please. God dammit..." You weren't above begging, and especially not now. "-Please. I'm dying here."

"That's a tad dramatic." He replied with a smirk. "-You'll get yours, babygirl."

He straightened out tall and moved his hips into the moon of yours. He took hold of his dick again and pressed the throbbing tip to your slick clit. With a satisfied sigh, your hips lifted to him as he began to rub himself over your sensitive nub.

Colson's mouth hung open as he dragged himself through your slit repeatedly, often pausing at your clit to pay it some extra specific massaging attention. Watching his work, along with the lift of your hips, the way your body squirmed for him, he slid himself down to your opening, probing against you in vain a few times until he couldn't take the hunger any longer.

Letting out a low growl he entered you in one complete stroke. You breathed an erotic gasp at the stretch but soon, as he began to move, more pleasured cries burst from within your depths. His body fell forward in ecstasy, his hands bracing himself on either side of your ribs as he pulled out to drive right back into again. Your hips rolled back then, knees pulled up to your chest as he slid into you with earth-shattering ease. He bent in further and silenced your cries with his lips, kissing you sloppily as he continued to bottom out within your hot velvet grip.

"Fuck, Y/N..." Colson growled into the crook of your neck, lips and teeth pressed to your soft skin now, "-You're so wet,"

You mewled below him, hitching your knees even higher up his sides, your high heels digging into his backside, pulling him in deeper, your body arching and rolling to his breathtaking thrusts.

"Harder." You sighed when he began to fall into a methodic rhythm.

As the demanded word filled his ears he moved to comply, pushing himself back to straighten out tall. His strong hands pushed your thighs back further and opened you up wider as he drove in at an amorous yet punishing pace.

These strides, though wildly sexy, were hardly sustainable. Colson gritted his teeth and soon felt Y/N's rush of arousal coat him, could feel the pulse of your walls, the hitch in your breathing like music to his ears.

As your walls tightened further, "-Cum for my then, babygirl," Colson finally uttered.

As if on command you came with a cry of his name, your nails digging into whatever league of his flesh you could find, your legs and pussy like a vice grip around him. He somehow managed to keep from stumbling down the rabbit hole with you and began to grind along with the waves of your pleasure, pushing profanities and moans out of you at a delicious rate.

Moving you through your high Colson bent down to lave at your nipples, before trailing kisses up your chest and neck. Below him, you stilled slightly as your climax ebbed into a buzzing heat that matched the slow throw of his hips. His thrusts rolled and dragged against you salaciously but with a determined and building purpose. You moved to cup his face then, bringing his focus back to your eyes and kissed him, so softly, so tenderly, so...graciously.

He couldn't keep from kissing back hungrily though, a spike of arousal jolting through him as he continued to bury himself deep and lazy inside you. Both your  movements began to flow and swirl together like churning water, graceful, unrelenting and pure, rushing Colson towards the crest of a cascading free fall.

He knew then that he was just about doomed, and that was before you spoke.

"You feel so fucking amazing," Y/N whispered against his temple, his shuttering breaths ghosting over your sweat-slick skin.

Colson let out a guttural moan and took both your hands, stacking them above your head, lacing his fingers with yours, and holding them both captive. You welcomed the restraint though, and pulled him in harder with your legs and heels in the flesh of his ass, silently encouraging him to boil over.

"Let go," you requested, purposefully pulsing your internal muscles around his throbbing length, "- Cum for me, Colson."

And that was all it took for Richard Colson Baker to lose his goddamned mind.

"Fuck!" He groaned as his climax rocked him through to his core.

The pleasure claimed him, in every aspect of the word. Y/N rendered him speechless, boneless and mindless in one sublime moment. He bit into the soft slope of your neck as he spilled himself within your warmth, your walls milking every last drop from him, your encouragement and adoration streaming into his ears. Had it not been for the death grip you had on him, he may have very well lost himself, or blacked out, spirit floating away from the vessel kind of deal, or something equally dramatic. But instead, he was left gasping, all while likely crushing your hands and body with his own blissed-out intensity.

After a few satisfying moments, wrapped around each other, Colson rolled off you in a panting heap while you both tried to catch your breath.

"You were incredible tonight," he gushed welcoming you with open arms as you settled in close.

Your smile was soft and sleepy as you sank into the dishevelled sheets and laid out on your side, an arm tucked under your common pillow. Though there were nearly a dozen other pillows you could have used, he didn't mind, having you close was always welcome.

"What we just did is always incredible." You replied lightly.

The sun was just starting to colour the horizon in a dusky twilit dawn, accentuating the floor to ceiling view of the twinkling city skyline set off in the near distance. You both relaxed and sat in blissful silence for a few moments, hands and fingers tenderly tracing lines and divots of each other's bodies, breathing falling into sync as you basked in the tender afterglow.

//I can't explain it

I love the pain

And I love the way your breath

Numbs me of novacaine

And we are

Always high

Keep it strange

Okay, yeah, I'm insane

But you the same//

[sockdreams]

In the Game of Socks, You Win or You Unravel

The armies are gathering. Sides have been chosen, small victories won, and the lives of all our favorite characters hang in the balance. As we enter possibly the deadliest era in Game of Thrones history, we wanted to take a moment and celebrate some of the houses that have risen and fallen so far.

Some of these players have already faded away, and some are just coming into their own. Who will survive? Well, “when you play the game of thrones…” oh, you know the rest.

House Targaryen of Dragonstone

Colors: Black and Red

“Fire and Blood”

Conquerors of the Seven Kingdoms and ruling house on the Iron Throne for 200 years. This silver haired family had a talent for raising dragons and an odd idea of marrying their children to each other. Say what you will about their matchmaking abilities, but these fire fanatics made a cool throne that despite being super uncomfortable – a lot of people want to sit on.

Dragons are the name of the game, and the Mermaid Lace Tights provide an excellent scale texture that can be layered over colored tights, for whatever type of dragon you prefer to be (although these sold out fast, you can sign up from their page to be notified when we restock). We've also got a nod to classic fantasy adventure in the Beware of Dragons Midcalf. Perhaps not as gritty as the Fire & Ice world, but these dragons are ready to slay.

We also have a fun little tutorial for stocking adornments, if you'd like to take your dragon motif to the next level.

DIY: Stocking Adornments

House Stark of Winterfell

Colors: Grey and White

“Winter is Coming”

Brooding wardens of the North, House Stark has resided in Winterfell for thousands of years. Obviously, these guys know their politics and can do no wrong. Putting honor over duty or tact certainly never hurt them.

We've got some fine representations of wolves on the Wolf Midcalf, and the fuzzy tops of the Skye Furry Topped Crew socks definitely feel appropriate for the cold climate of the North.

House Lannister of Casterly Rock

Colors: Red and Gold

“Hear Me Roar!”

The descendants of Lan the Clever still reside at Casterly Rock and have a reputation for being the richest family in Westeros. They enjoy lording over others and keeping a tight grip on their control of the Iron Throne. Rumors say behind the scenes some members of this impressive and domineering family can be quite close.

You can prance like the royalty you deserve to be in the gold Lurex Tights (so shimmery; so pretty), and the Boss Lion Knee High socks need no explanation.

House Arryn of the Eyrie

Colors: Blue and White

“As High as Honor”

These anti-social recluses love to hold up in their impregnable Eyrie and let the lesser people fight amongst themselves while they watch from a distance. They pride themselves on a more refined way of life in the mountains, and making sure their sons are properly fed.

Take to the wind with the Barn Owl Knee High socks, and soar a sky as blue as these We Love Colors Microfiber Tights. Just uh, watch out for moon doors.

House Tully of Riverrun

Colors: Red and Blue

“Family, Duty, Honor”

House Tully is full of fish-eating gingers. This house loves to put family first even when it leads to their own foils. Their stubbornness can almost rival the Starks'.

The colorful fish of the Fish Knee High socks are a real send-up to this house, where rivers run as deep as the Dreamer Tidal Swirl Thigh Highs.

House Greyjoy of Pyke

Colors: Black and Gold

“We Do Not Sow"

House Greyjoy are a rebellious lot residing on the isles of Pyke. They like their lives full of hardship and suffering on the sea. They’ve fought for independence from Westeros on multiple occasions but have failed thus far. Maybe what is dead should die?

You can adorn yourself in the Greyjoy colors with the Soft Lurex Marl Knee High socks, or dress in fisherman finery with the Wet Look Lace Up Thigh High Leg Warmers.

House Baratheon of Storm’s End

Color: Gold and Black

“Ours is the Fury”

An ancient house created by bastard BFF of Aegon the Conquer, Orys Baratheon. Once he retired as Aegon’s General he claimed the Stormlands by marrying the daughter of the family that once ruled there. Orys proved that you can rise from your station not by what you know, but who you know [and marry].

Adorned with sweet blossoms, the Antler Blossoms Knee High certainly calls back to a happier time. If you wish to channel a little Baratheon into your day, you can wear their colors with the Lurex Industrial Net Tights.

House Tyrell of Highgarden

Colors: Green and Gold

“Growing Strong”

Highgarden houses the beautiful golden roses known as House Tyrell. This Growing Strong house supplies the best wine, food, and curly haired Knights to the Seven Kingdoms.

The Tyrell's signature rose is adorned on the Bloomes Anklets, while the twisting vines of the Ferns and Fiddleheads Knee High socks are certainly growing strong.

House Martell of Sunspear

Colors: Orange and Gold

“Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken”

These sun loving people who are fond of throwing spears reside in the southern most point of Westeros. Their lands are mostly desert, and the quality of their wine reflects that, as a reliable source confirms.

Luxuriate in the hot sands of Dorne with the Marled Scrunchable Socks, but be careful handling the Snake Net Tights...they've been known to bite.

House Mormont of Bear Island

Colors: White and Black

“Here We Stand”

Nobel and loyal bannerman to House Stark. Members are known to be outspoken and hairy.

We have two different takes on the Mormont's favorite beasty, with the Black Bear Tights and the Bear Walker Midcalf.

Night’s Watch

Color: Black

"I am the watcher on the walls."

A varying array of men in all black guarding the realms of the Seven Kingdoms from whatever lies beyond The Wall. They get the fun tasks of serving for life, taking no wives, holding no lands or titles, and having no children. Despite that, they are the only faction that gets to vote for their leader, so you win some, you lose some.

These Curious Crows Knee High socks are perfect for the "crows" of the Night's Watch, and while they're dressed in black, we recommend they try out the Elevation Compression Knee High socks, to keep them on their toes during those long watches.

Wildlings

Colors: whatever color, as long as it's warm

"Free folk don't follow names, or little cloth animals sewn on a tunic..."

Wildlings, or Free Folk as they call themselves, live beyond The Wall and got up to some fun adventures fighting the Night’s Watch for a few hundred years before uniting and heading south to avoid some rather unpleasantness with the White Walkers.

The free folk beyond the wall have always known of the dangers lurking so close to them. They need warm clothing like the Camel Hair Thermal Socks to help them survive, and, like our models of the Log Crew socks, are prepared for anything.

Followers of the Red God

Color: Red

"The night is dark and full of terrors."

These pyromancing wannabes hail from the East in Asshai and search the world over for the reborn form of their great god, R’hllor.  They believe he alone can save the world from darkness with his flaming sword, Lightbringer.

Obviously red is a prominent color among followers of the Lord of Light, whose flames are depicted in the stripes of the Extraordinary Elemental Stripes. The red of the We Love Colors Plus Size Tights is almost worthy of a true believer.

White Walkers

Color: White (surprise!)

"Demons made of snow and ice and cold. The ancient enemy. The only enemy that matters."

Chilly AF humanoid necromancer folks with the brightest blue eyes you've ever seen. They hail from The Land of Always Winter and built their armies with the dead marching South to Westeros. They have one leader, determined to bring an eternal winter to the Seven Kingdoms. One Night King to rule them all…

This is it. The enemy we've been building to over the last six seasons. Their eerie, icy white skin can be approximated with the Glitter Fishnet Tights, and the Winter Midcalf socks offer a great view of the land they hail from. Winter is definitely here, with a vengeance. And for now, no one is safe.

~

This post was a collaboration between Dreamer Lucy and resident-Game-of-Thrones-expert Dreamer Ash.

♥Lucy Socks by Sock Dreams • Free Shipping in the US • $5 International Shipping Find us on facebook | twitter | pinterest | instagram | sock journal

[claygobs]

olympian aesthetics.

bold what appeals  /  applies to your muse.

APHRODITE.   laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, thrives on attention, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive, wants to be adored, gets turned on by danger.

APOLLO.    glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled wrath, shunning lies,sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a tinder account

ARES.   armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell will make you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath

ARTEMIS.   keen sense of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves,bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting a target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling

ATHENA.     discerning gaze, unreadable face, the patience of a lifelong teacher, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic, loves brain teasers, go-getter, balls of wool displayed on shelves, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colors, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes  

DEMETER.   soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom-friend, can lift you and your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants (elementals), leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air

DIONYSUS.   drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause

HEPHAESTUS.   the calloused hands of someone who knows labor, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted in blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel,stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles

HERA.   resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, files that under fuck it, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold

HERMES.    devil-may-care smile, ink-stained hands, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes redbull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers

POSEIDON.   storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, the sea casting its spell, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns for more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle,compass with a spinning arrow

ZEUS.   thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, pretends they don’t have feelings but they do, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease, most likely to be voted class president out of their peers, expensive watch

Tagged by: @13lilypetals

Tagging: Whoever hasn’t done it because I’m late AF to this party~

[ecotone99]

[SP] Snakemoon Woods. I want to write a book where the story is told from two perspectives. Here's a proof of concept for the story!

I awoke freezing. It was the middle of the night. My watch ticked one in the morning. The fleece blanket I was using barely held in any heat. I should’ve bought a thicker one. This was our fourth day hiking. We camped out near a wide river. The trail we were on took us through a mountain range. We were at the base of the tallest mountain in the range. Its giant silhouette covered the horizon. Ben had been planning this trip for at least a year. He promised me he’d take me on a life-changing trip for my birthday. He promised me sights I’ve never seen before and memories that would last until the day I die. I think this trip was more for him though. The hike’s lived up to these promises for sure, but I was exhausted beyond belief. Already my body was weary and sore. The trails have been rough, uneven, and with very steep inclines and declines. I wasn’t used to this level of difficulty. I’ve been slowing down a lot lately, taking more breaks than before, and I can tell Ben’s getting frustrated. “It’s not my fault,” I tell myself every time I stop. “He’s the one that wanted this.”

I grabbed my jacket to warm up. The moon was directly above, staring me down. The mountain’s peak eclipsed the moon, challenging its beauty. But neither the moon or mountain could compete against the stars. There were so many, you could see all kinds of constellations. Faintly, I could also make out the Milky Way. I stared for at least a few minutes. The most important star, Ben taught me, was the North Star. It was somewhere near the Big Dipper I think… or the Small Dipper? I hope I don’t get lost due to not listening. All I know is that’s it’s nowhere near the brightest, but it’s stationary. That’s what makes it essential to survival… in case we ever lost our GPS of course.

I sat up and put on the jacket. It was cold at first. As I slid each arm down its sleeve, shivers ran down my spine. Once zipped up, I finally felt snug. The river’s shallow current rushed softly. The air was crisp, with a hint of smoke from our long dead campfire. I contemplated re-kindling the fire before trying to sleep again, then I’d be nice and toasty… for a moment, it was peaceful. The wind was whispering nearby. Telling stories to the trees. I tried to listen in… There was some rustling in the woods. Is that what woke me up? It sounded like a large animal grazing, maybe a deer. I hope it’s not a bear…

I turned to Ben, sound asleep on the ground. I could see his eyes moving rapidly under his closed eyelids. He must be dreaming. Ben’s blanket looked nice and warm. See, he knew how to prepare. He goes on long hiking trips af often as he can. He knows how to spot hidden dangers on the trails. Many times, he’s stopped me and yelled “No don’t step there! The rocks are loose!” or something of the like. Right before we had set out, he stressed to “Make sure to bring a thick blanket for the night!” I should’ve paid more attention. I thought the throw blanket off my couch would be enough. Now here I was suffering for being a dumbass.

The large pines cast a long shadow on us. I looked to the woods as I stood up. I needed to get more firewood, otherwise I’ll be awake all night. The tree line wasn’t too far, maybe 20-some feet away. There were branches perfect for a small fire lying near the base of the trees. I grabbed the flashlight next to our bedrools and shined towards the trees. Whatever animal was making noise earlier was gone. Still, there were faint noises coming from the thick canopy. As I got closer, the rustling became louder. “Just some birds in the trees” I told myself. My breath left small white puffs in the air. I picked up a handful of branches and sticks and started heading back. I‘ve only ever been camping once before, and that was in the middle of summer. I told myself I’ll never camp so far in the north again. Suddenly, I started to get colder. Something was watching me. A deer? A small squirrel? “It’s just dark and creepy, and it’s getting to you. Stop being a big baby.” I tried to reassure myself.

As I got back into camp, I could hear Ben breathing heavily. I hope he’s dreaming about me… It took a couple of tries to get the fire going, the wood was somewhat damp. Once the fire roared to life, I could feel my body doing the same. After a few minutes of warmth, I laid back down. Again, the stars took my breath away. As my eyes grew heavy, I thought about the rest of the trip. We still have three more days before we reach our destination, a small village in the middle of nowhere. Then we’ll finally start heading back. I can’t wait to take a warm shower and restock on food. Maybe I’ll have a nice hot chocolate with Bailey’s. That’ll be nice… I slowly drifted away into a dream as my body relaxed.

My eyes sprang open. There was a sharp pain near my calf. I looked and saw a snake latched onto me. Its fangs buried deep. In a panic, I started flailing my leg. The sounds coming out of my mouth were incoherent and loud. After a few eternal seconds, I finally kicked it off with my other foot. The snake hissed as it slid a few feet away. It turned to look at me, almost mockingly. The snake’s tongue flicked as it stared at me with its deep sinister eyes. They were golden, with black slits for the irises. Its sleek scales were as black as the shadow it emerged from, with a red dotted stripe going down its slender body. It continued sliding into the trees. My leg was throbbing with each heart pulse. There were two swollen puncture holes on the side of my shin. Oddly enough, there was no blood.

I quickly picked up the flashlight again, shining it where I last saw the creature. Nothing. Just pebbles, grass, and trees. My hands started to tremble. I was sweating like crazy. Something’s wrong. I couldn’t see anything else. The fire’s dead, only its ashes are left. It should have lasted at least another hour… I looked up to the sky once more and took a deep breath. Where did the moon go? Not a single star in view. I felt my blood grow cold. It was so dark. There was no telling where the ground and sky met. This was a nightmare. It had to be. I turned to wake Ben, but I was all alone.

I began to panic. Where was he? Did he run into the woods? I heard a soft, constant drone coming from deep within the wilderness. It sounded like a mixture of wind gusts and tiny insects flying around. There was a soft rattling as well. Suddenly, a loud scream panged out. It was Ben. The scream was full of agony and fear. I got up and got closer to the darkness, forgetting the pain in my leg. I yelled out his name. After no response I started running towards the scream. I slowed down when I reached the tree line. Everything was pitch-black. The flashlight giving less light than I remembered. I couldn’t see into the wilderness, but I knew he wasn’t far.

I was scared. But it felt good to run. All the adrenaline in my veins was being released. My thoughts became clearer. As the fauna thickened, it became increasingly harder to get through. My legs were shredded by all the thorns in the bushes. No matter how far I went into the woods, Ben’s screams seemed to get further away. Every breath I took got heavier. I slowed down. The pain… my leg was throbbing. Was the snake venomous? Was I about to die? I had to stop. I had to breathe and rest.

As I reached a tree stump, I rested and flashed the light on my leg. The bite was very swollen. It almost looked like a second ankle. It stung like fire. My shirt was drenched with sweat. I took it off and wrapped it as best as I could around the bite. The sweat should keep it cool. It’s definitely not as good as a pack of ice, but it should help a little bit. The drone got louder and drowned any other noise. I couldn’t even hear Ben anymore. I hope he was ok. Those screams certainly made me believe otherwise. I needed to find him soon.

I looked around me. I must have gotten turned around at some point, I didn’t know where I was anymore. The flashlight flickered. How was the battery already dying? We made sure to put new batteries before the trip. I should stop expecting things to make sense. The darkness, the snake, the moon. I’ve lost my mind. This felt too real to be a nightmare. No matter how far I ran in dreams I never actually got tired. My muscles never ached. But here I was sore, weary, and beaten. This was real, even if it didn’t make sense. I was lost in the woods and Ben was in danger.

I breathed in slowly, deep breaths. My mind slowed to a crawl. It would be a waste of time trying to figure out what was going on. The constant loud noise was fading. My heartbeat was louder than anything else. I took another deep breath, but the adrenaline in my body still flourished. Deep…. Breaths…. I turned off the flashlight and closed my eyes.

I felt a breeze, it came rushing from my right side. Was it an opening? I was curious, and desperate at this point. I slowly walked towards what I hoped would be a way out. The cool air refreshed my sore throat. There was a dim yellow light shining through the trees. As I approached it I became warmer. Squeezing through some trees I found a torch. I had to look down, it was so bright. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I picked up the torch.

There was a stone path twisting through the trees. Once again, my mind screamed at me. The path led to darkness. It felt… Evil… I looked in the opposite direction, the wind seemed to be coming from that direction. The gusts of wind filled me with hope. I wanted to follow it, exit this god-forsaken place. It had to be the way out. Every fiber of my being told me to follow that direction. My legs almost automatically started moving. Tears were blurring my vision. Not that I could see anything anyway, but I was beginning to feel safe once more.

That’s when the scream pulled me back. Ben’s tortured voice brought me back into this horrid reality. I turned around and immediately started sweating again. I tried to step towards the screams but my legs refused to budge. I cursed out loud. Part of me wanted to leave him, I wanted to tell myself it was too late. But how could I? I’d never be able to live with myself again if I left him to whatever evil took him. I had no choice. Finally I forced my body to yield and move forward. The moment I took a step the breeze stopped. I turned around. It no longer felt safe to head in that direction. Whatever way out I had, was now closed. I took a deep breath. Knowing my fate was sealed made it easier to continue.

The path felt like a maze, leading me through the twisted trees. Many paths branched out into some unseen destinations. Who knew what secrets were hidden away. Some paths were gravel, some dirt, but only the main one remained stone. I kept going down the main path, sometimes sucking in my gut just to squeeze through the trees. After walking for about 15 minutes, the stone path turned to gravel. I must have reached the end. There was a dirt path to my left and another thinner gravel path to my right. The dirt path was lit up by a torch. It was the only trail that’s been marked by anything else. It had to mean something. Maybe Ben was brought down this way? I followed the torched dirt trial. I could hear the trees speaking, whispering their curses.

I felt heavy, laden with pressure. Maybe I felt guilty of not being able to protect Ben. It could also be the trees, hugging the edges of the path that gave me claustrophobia. I was conflicted. Could I even do anything if I found Ben? There was something big going on. I felt like I was being groomed by some cult. Even the trees felt more alive than usual. The dark oaks were covered in old sap. I looked up, but the light didn’t even reach the top of the trees. I continued down the path. I had to at least try to find Ben.

Dust covered my boots. The silence was eerie. After walking a bit further, the torch revealed an ancient wooden bridge ahead. The planks looked rotten, ready to succumb to the darkness below. The trees around me broke away from the path and ended abruptly at the edge of the cliff. Some leaned forward, staring down at the abyss. I couldn’t see the other side of the bridge, it must go on for a while. I tested the plank by putting some weight on it. To my surprise, not even the rope stretched. Something was holding the old bridge together, possibly magic? Nothing would really surprise me at this point.

I stepped onto the bridge, still trying to be as careful as possible. I looked over the thick rope. I felt a sense of dread, like something was lurking down there. Who knows how far down it reached. It could even be endless. The bridge kept going. I walked for about ten minutes. The bridge was much longer than should be possible. I thought about going back, trying to find another way. There were no more trees above but still it was pitch dark. No sky, no ground.

Finally I saw the end of the bridge. The ground was flat and dusty. I couldn’t see much outside of my small circle of light. No trees, no rocks, just dirt and grass. There were two other sources of lights just ahead of me. Looks like more torches. They were attached to a stone archway not too far from the bridge. There was a strong breeze coming from the sides of the bridge. It was warm. I looked over the edge, but I couldn’t see anything. I thought I heard waves, way down there. Was I in the forest anymore? My hair flew back as the torch danced violently and threatened to give out in the wind.

I stepped back from the edge and headed towards the arch. When I got closer, I noticed the arch had some kind of runes etched into it. They were carved deep into the stone. I couldn’t recognize any but one. The shape of the rune reminded me of a snake, possibly the one that bit me earlier? I walked through the bridge cautiously, my body was shivering uncontrollably. All I wanted was to wake up from this nightmare. I wanted all of this to end. As I kept walking I heard a soft squelching sound. There were patches of mud on the path. It didn’t look right, though. The mud was darker than it should’ve been. The smell of iron gave it away. I just hope it wasn’t Ben’s… I swallowed a deep breath. It was still pitch dark. I don’t know why I expected light. I just wanted something to change for the better, but it seemed each step I took forward made things worse.

The small circle of light made me feel safe, if only a little. The air grew cooler. I must be getting away from the edge of the abyss. The light from my torch revealed a stone step in front of me. There were several steps that follow it, continuing into the darkness. On each side of the steps, the stone turned cylindrical. It looked like tubes, stacked on top of each other, each one getting smaller.

The staircase looked new, but the rest looked decrepit. I slowly climbed the stairs, taking caution with each step. As I went higher I realized the tubes were more like rings, as I could see a slight curve reaching away from the light. The rungs around me were large, each one took three or four steps to clear. After five rings, the stairs stopped. As soon as I reached the top, I heard a soft chanting all around me.

The chanting got louder as I continued towards the center of the circle. It was deafening at this point. I didn’t know what language it was. It suddenly ceased. I froze. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Shivers went down my spine. There was a soft rumble that shook the ground. A single voice started chanting again. Three torches lit up out of nowhere. I could see more now. My face twisted in horror. Ben’s body hung in front of me, crucified. He was chained to the neck of a long stone snake.

The Snake’s cement eyes stared at me just like the one that bit me. Mocking me to come forth, try to do anything. There were two torches near Ben’s arms, and one that was propped up the statue’s tail. The rumbling and chanting continued, now stronger. I yelled out at Ben, but he didn’t even flinch. He looked broken, soulless. His chest had two long vertical gashes. Ben’s head moved slightly. I yelled out his name again. The chanting stopped once more. Ben slowly looked up. His eyes locked onto mine. A small smile formed at his lips.

“Oh Luke… I’m so sorry” his voice was raspy.

“What’s going on?!” I yelled back at him.

Just then the rumbling forced me onto my knees. Light started pouring onto the shrine. The moon, as bright and big as ever, began to rise from behind Ben. He looked up and started softly laughing. The moon engulfed him until he was only a silhouette. The rumbling stopped. I could feel myself crying, my mind was racing. Then I saw the black snake.

The Snake was enormous. It slowly grasped the moon with its body. The moon cracked and chunks flew as the Snake’s grip tightened with each loop. I could hear Ben still laughing. The moon was completely surrounded by the Snake now. Its head slowly lifted from behind the moon. I felt the Snake’s eyes, burning into my soul. Its demonic hiss made my ears bleed. It slowly wound up, and leaped at Ben.

Never before had I run this fast. I sprinted back towards the bridge. I had to get out. There was a massive crash that broke the ground. Whatever platform I was on began to shake and I could hear boulders hitting the waves deep below. I reached the bridge and looked back. Ben was gone, the Snake had eaten him. The snake was no longer planet-size, but it was still gigantic. It must have been some sort of illusion. It turned to me and hissed once more.

I continued running down the bridge, the snake fast approaching. It slithered so smoothly and efficiently. I had to get out. I had to. The bridge shook as the snake latched on. I almost fell over the edge. I kept running. That’s all I could do. Everything grew dark as the Snake’s shadow blocked the pale, broken moonlight.

I’m sorry Ben.

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