#‧₊˚ ☽ Moonbeam

[moon-kissed-seraphiine]

Fandoms☾₊ ⊹ fandoms ill write for currently:

Ranfren

fandoms i'm in, but don't write for currently:

JJba

Hetalia

Bnha

Dungeon meshi

[faefetti]

Hello Moonbeam! Wanna see what’s in the cave today? ˚☽˚｡⋆𓃦 ˚☽˚｡⋆

Hey there pup! Here’s your very own cave that’s stuffed to the brim with a plush pack of your very own! It’s perfect for running around until you flop onto the pillows, howling and listening to the echo back, reading with a big pile of plushies, enjoying a bunch of Wolf Build a Bears, watching a movie while eating snackies (I put on Wolf Walkers for you but you can watch Scooby Doo, Monster High or whatever you want pup!), and/or relaxing and feeling safe knowing that you’re safe to be yourself here.🤎🐾

Two rooms in one day! It was neck and neck with the Lovecore room so I decided to do them both last night! Still can’t believe it ended in a tie! And remember that you can check out all of the rooms I’ve made for you so far in the softroom time tag. And that means it’s time to vote on the next room theme so…

[blueyes-dragon]

~ ☼ 𝑺𝒖𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏 ☽ ~

A small drawing of our favorite sunshine boy and his elegant moonbeam

❤︎ 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆’𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒚 ❤︎

[brisquad-unit-4402]

iluna and details

whenever i see anime characters i'm always fascinated by if they were more realistic, or more detailed, you know, the little elements of people that animation studios just don't have the budget nor time nor medium to depict. so this ficlet is a love letter to all the beautiful parts of people that can't really be captured until you're living in their lovely presence!

this wasn't originally an iluna post. it was actually for all of the nijien boys, you see, i worked on it as a warmup before my bigger projects, and a place for me to practice shorter fic. but i was so charmed by the concept and how fun these were to write that i wanted the girls in on this too...! i'll slowly work on the other units as time goes on and i work on more projects

tags: established relationship, fluff, gender neutral reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🤟 Kyo Kaneko

He calls himself an asshole and you'd be the first to agree. He's comfortable enough with you to poke fun at you, and when you tease back it's a game you both play to win. He's yours, after all, and it rolls off him like water off a duck's back, because he knows when to back off or go all in. His energy shines moonlight into the pitch dark. No matter what, he always has something to say that makes the night seem so much less bleak.

But the moon needs to sink to calm, and he stays late into the night with drive fierce enough to silence himself. He sits at his desk. Candy blue hair is swept back in a headband, but the dyed locks curl out in front of his face as he writes.

He is so determined, and the stars against his back wish they had his grit. The pencil wavers, bounces, swings this way and that as he thinks. The eraser presses the skin underneath his lip before the answer comes to him.

For all the resolve in his apple-green eyes are, the lids can barely sustain it. There are too many thoughts for one body to hold. The night creeps longer and his eyelashes flutter closed.

You see what the moon sees in him, this supercharged soul, the light that shines off his wit, the quiet resilience to keep going. Traces of moonbeam cross along his soft skin, the hoodie over his shoulders, hair the color of the sky. The patterns of lights follow as you carry him to bed.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🐰 Maria Marionette

She lives in long sleeves. Your jacket suits her like a charm, even though it's much too big for her little body. Especially because it's too big for her body. It's so rare to see her without long socks that stretch far above the hem of her skirt.

Her knit socks brush against your legs as she sits. The movie has long been forgotten by you in favor of admiring her delicacy. She fits so perfectly in your lap, a stand to a centerpiece, a matching set, do not separate.

When she recognizes the look in your eye she curls closer to you, and when she can't get enough she musters up the courage to slip off her jacket.

Along the bends of her arms and the links upon her fingers you see everything she is so scared of. Sweeping lines stretch across her skin, pale and geometric, and perfectly wrapped around the diameter. They're symmetrical. Ball joints. Articulation imprinted in scars, the only sign flesh was once porcelain.

She is so gorgeous in her vulnerability. She is so gorgeous in her everything, her body and soul, no matter the form. You press your lips along the white scarring between her knuckles.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

💫 Aster Arcadia

He has to be one of the most intricate pieces of art in the world. There’s no other explanation. His makeup never fades even as his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and when he presses his lips together right before laughing out loud.

And sometimes you can’t even tell when it’s grooming or just how harmonious he was formed. His makeup never fades, but his air sparkles, thousands of strokes of gas and space dust and matter swirling around his body, the edge of a nebula, the collections of what makes solar systems burst and catch fire.

There is electricity when he moves. The earth bends around him. Not a hair is out of place even in moments when just touching him is like placing your hands against a plasma ball.

He is so beautiful and so unfathomable and so innately himself.

He shivers when you press against sensitivities but you doubt he could ever understand the coursing under your veins, the push and pull of gravity, the molten core. The effect he has on you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👼 Aia Amare

No matter what she does, she is feather-light. Her steps are easy to miss, so she sneaks up on you without even trying, and when you jump in surprise she titters in musical tones. When she reaches out to touch you, she is your pedestal. Her hands are strong but gentle, the mark of an artist, and the briefest skim against your skin leaves impressions like you are nothing but soft clay.

She is feather, and coated in downy white, and songbird and stars in the clouds. Her heavens soften her. If you didn't know a thing about her, you'd imagine her so fragile that she could float away with a breath.

But for as light as she is, she is intense. Waves roar in time with her noise. There is so much spirit and so much energy within her. The brightness turns blinding, but only when she wants it to.

She slips off the glasses, and you are reminded of the bristles that make up a feather. The lenses mute the color, but without them, cool mint freezes over so strongly that her gaze burns. Pale lashes fame the searing ocean. Slighter than a suggestion, but so prominent you know there is nothing earthly like her, you see the motion of curling rings hidden inside the green and blue. A sprinkling of gold between the rods. The glisten rotates in wheels. Eyes upon eyes upon eyes within eyes. Feather.

She places them back over her eyes, and her artisan hands motion around your body while you're struck with something unknowable. Her league is dimensions away from yours. You're blessed.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🛸 Ren Zotto

You could never mistake him for a simple human. There's too much under his surface even when he tries, but he never does try. The horns upon his head protrude too high to fall under a lowered head.

In bright light, if you can focus, you’d think the green in his veins turns blazing. Focus harder and you realize it runs along the skin itself with the suggestion of a shining, scaled teal, before it disappears entirely.

You swear there's more teal in his hair that isn't swallowed by dark. It's soft and fine as you brush your fingers over him, and you can barely even see the undertone.

"It's not really black," he says. "Human eyes just perceive it as black because they don't have the anatomy for it."

The word- his color- is unpronounceable to human tongues. It requires a trill between fangs you don't have.

But you try anyways, and as it turns into a spit of nothing he laughs with you. You press a kiss to his unpronounceable hair. When his smile relaxes his fang catches on his lip.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

💅 Scarle Yonaguni

She is made entirely from her own creation. Love and care finds a home within her body, and stumbles around clumsily and spreads out through peals of laughter. There is nothing quite like her because she is everything around her; she is ember and she is ash, as much as she is ideal and reality, as much as she is exuberance and moderation. To chase and to heal. Architect of her own path, with so many miracles stored in her fingertips, all of them within simple delights.

Warmth trails through all she touches. The folds in her books, the keyboard turning shiny from use, crosses along the T's and dots above the I's. The way she holds you so tightly as if you were the only source of heat, even though she exudes fire all her own.

Cocoa and cinnamon follow her, a champurrado musk, and you can't place where the spicy scent comes from. It lingers in her hair and along her skin, those miracle fingertips that spend so much love and care of what she enchants, and you are no exception. When she runs her nails along your jawline the smooth blend puts you at ease.

All her cinder catches in your throat. Her touch is hypnosis. It's familiar, and home, and comfort. It's adventure and joy and discovery. You can't get her scent out of your mind, and when it finally grants you peace, the chocolate has already marked you endeared.

[onyx666]

☽◯☾ let the moon settle you ☽◯☾

pairing : finnick odair x black fem coded!reader

warnings : none (will surely contain violent graphic scenes as well as some mentions of sex trafficking and forced prostitution, and smut in the future, i mean it's the hg Imaoo cmon yall)

aim for the moon. even if you miss, you may hit a star. shoot for the moon and if you miss you will still be among the stars.

"Live fast, die young, be wild. and have fun.... they say..." she expressed with a bitter laugh slipping off her lips still cringing at the mantra.

As the gloomy moonbeam reflected on the side of her face in the moonlit night, she spoke with a grace that caught the peacock's attention, still standing in the shadows. The moonlight painted her face with a soft glow, revealing a tapestry of emotions in every expression. As strands of her hair danced in the gentle breeze, Finnick observed in silence.

The night, wrapped in the luminous embrace of the moon, held the promise of a new narrative written in the language of stardust and whispered confessions.

"I believed in the country Panem used to be." she said, still holding hope for the person she wanted to become.

In this moment, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, she became Moon, a celestial muse—a constellation of emotions and experiences that left an indelible mark on his heart, even him not noticing it.

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

a/n: not proofread jsjsjsjss wtv feel free to dm me it's only the synopsis but im still open to suggestions and btw i reposted it idk i kinda hated my other blog #autism

[sakura-scum]

island in the sun ☼

✧ hip hip ✧

✿ summary: CHARACTER ANALYSIS || Megumi Fushiguro is a teenager burdened with the stressors of the Jujutsu world. Quick to adapt a suicidal mentality, Fushiguro plans to seal his own fate. One day, something makes him rethink this ideology. Can an external light help reveal the light that shines from within? Inspired by Megumi's theme song appointed by Gege: Island in the Sun by Weezer! ☆

✿ w/c: ~3.6k

✿ warning: JJK S2 Shibuya Incident Spoilers! Graphic depictions of blood + scars, lots of mentions/discussions abt su!c!de

✿ a/n: in honor of the solar eclipse, i wanted to do a little sun/moon trope, ehehe~

i feel like megumi's character often gets overshadowed by gojo, itadori, or even geto by comparison. he deserved his own little spotlight and this weezer song has been on loop for me lately so i felt inspired to write this little bit. a little longer than what i usually write lol. hope u enjoy ♥︎

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

I’ve always loathed summertime.

From as early as I could remember. 

I was four years old that wretched summer. The quaint apartment where Tsumiki and I stayed was uncomfortably hot. The air was thick and humid; it felt like an oven. The relentless heat oppressed us, making every breath a strained struggle. Our feeble fan, barely functional, merely stirred the stifling air around. Yet, Tsumiki claimed it as her own, propping herself up on our shared twin-sized mattress. She’d sit in front of the fan like a princess, desperately grasping for the slight relief it offered. She claimed she needed it more than I did… something about her being older than me or whatever… I don’t know. I sat to the side as I watched her, renounced to the floor.  Even though beads of sweat rolled down both our faces, I complied, my parched lips unable to voice my protest. I finished the last of the cold water, my last drop of hope from the insufferable heat.

I hated it.

Ever since that day that man-child, Gojo, introduced me to the concept of tanning. 

“What are you doing?” I asked as I spotted Gojo sprawled out on a beach chair in the backyard. “It’s hot, don’t you want to go inside?” 

“Nah,” he’d reply nonchalantly, rolling over to expose his backside to the sun. “I’d tan.” 

“What?”

The white-haired man chuckled. “I’m *tanning*. Y’know, sunbathing? That thing that gives your skin that golden complexion so you don’t look as white as snow.” Gojo’s skin practically glimmered under the scorching sun. It was as if he was born to be in the limelight. Which, let’s be honest, he probably was.

“Oh,” I muttered, uninterested. At the young age of seven years old, I couldn’t care less about my appearance. Why start worrying now?

“Why don’t you come to join me, ‘Gumi~?” he’d tease, knowing full well I had no interest. I couldn��t tan if I tried. I always burned. What’s it like to bask in the spotlight, I wondered. 

“I’m good,” I’d grumble, heading back inside. Cool, shaded, and away from the glaring sun. Always on the sidelines, that’s where I belonged, right? 

“Live a little, touch some grass for once,” Gojo would encourage me. It’s like he didn’t understand. Of course, he didn’t. How could he? He was crafted from stardust and moonbeams; the golden child. Handcrafted by some divine entity, if such a thing existed. Hell– he might just be God incarnate. Or at least he thinks so. 

It’s moments like these, that I ponder how Suguru Geto must’ve felt. 

Oh, to be taken under the wing of an underdog. 

But no. 

Summer was the bane of my existence.

I was always the last pick in kickball or any kind of sport. My athletic abilities were mediocre at best. Rumor had it that my biological father possessed some sort of absurd physical strength. Why couldn’t I be gifted like that? 

In airing my frustrations about my athletic abilities, I was always met with the same comment from Gojo. “Well ‘Gumi, sometimes other people’s curses are others' blessings,” he would say as he ruffled my hair. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was talking about becoming my guardian, even though he never said it explicitly. On the other hand, what was made crystal clear was Gojo’s disdain for my father, for reasons unknown to me. He always neglected to tell me any details about him, leaving me to wonder if his feelings towards my father stemmed from having to care for us at such a young age.

Summertime reminds me of my father. How he abandoned us. How he left us all alone in that sweltering apartment. How he entrusted me to the care at the hands of some kid. Everyone always reassured me that being sent to the Zenin clan was worse, but how could it be worse than this? Maybe they would’ve made me strong. 

After that summer, Gojo made sure to devote extra time to my sorcerer training. It marked the beginning of a turning point in my youth as I delved deeper into the realm of Jujutsu. 

Ten shadows dance in the twilight, silent guardians of unseen realms. Shikigami; conjured spirits from nine letters, veiled in mystery’s shroud. Eight Handled Sword General, the beast I yearned to summon— a lasting legacy, a testament to Fushiguro, the name that ate me alive. It became my identity sevenfold yet, I could only claim a sixth of what truly belonged to me. What even was mine? I train rigorously,  five days a week, no rest between, remembering who I fight for… “Deep breath,” Gojo’s advice echoes in my head. “Start on the count of three, take the plunge, and never second guess yourself…”

But the countdown halts before it reaches one. The crescendo never arrives.

“WITH THIS DIVINE TREASURE I SUMMON–”

One. Not even one single victory for me. 

I trained under the strongest sorcerer alive, yet I couldn’t even manage to go on one successful mission without being a complete failure. 

What was the point anymore? Did anything even matter? 

No sorcerer in history had ever tamed the general. How the hell was I supposed to be the one to tame Mahoraga? There's no way. It seemed impossible. I’d meet my end swiftly, a pathetic demise. Certainly, this technique would be a last resort, a futile attempt to take my assailant while sealing my own fate in the process. Would there be significance in dying like that? Was it all meaningless? Careless? Reckless?

That’s when it occurred to me. 

Maybe my death could be a statement— a testimony to my life; a reclamation of my identity. I would die a hero. I would dedicate my life to it, proving to everyone that I am capable of committing and sacrificing for a noble cause; that I'm not just a burden or a failure. I never shared my plan with anyone; it remained tucked away in the recesses of my mind, a sacred treasure awaiting its moment. Swing and ring, the final act of defiance…

The concept of death had once inspired me like a dog inspires a rabbit. But that resolve was fleeting. 

I remember it vividly– the summer when I was 12 years old. I happened to stumble across the song “Island in the Sun”. It played on the radio during a muggy afternoon as Gojo, Tsumiki, and I drove to a beach in Okinawa. Tsumiki seemed overjoyed to get out, while I couldn’t care less. As a child, times like this would excite me, even despite my hatred of summer, however, as I got older, my enthusiasm faded. As the song played on the radio, Gojo hummed along much to my annoyance. Tapping his index finger on the dashboard to the beat of the song, he began to mumble the lyrics. 

"When you're on a holiday

You can't find the words to say

All the things that come to you

And I wanna feel it too"

‘Feel what?’ I wondered. By then, everything already felt so numb. That was the summer I stopped caring. I couldn't care if I even tried. In my mind, my fate was predetermined. As a sorcerer, I would sacrifice myself for a noble cause, whatever it may be. Death no longer felt like something I had to run from, like a looming cloud of uncertainty. Instead, it felt like something I started to embrace, a one-way shot to confirming my own end. I thought about it frequently. Surely, that held some significance, right?

At first, the song annoyed me. It would always loop in my mind, and I could never decipher this feeling the singer sought to convey. The thought of a blissful paradise as an escapade sounded like an unobtainable fantasy. Still, the yearning to experience said sensations, or feel anything for that matter, lingered inside of me. No matter how many beaches I visited, that elusive ‘feeling’ never found its way to me; it always seemed out of reach. Driven by relentless curiosity, I found myself repeatedly listening to the song, hoping to remedy my situation. I hate to admit it, but I developed a bit of a fondness for the song.

Yet, as the years slipped away, that summer afternoon faded into memory.. Three years later, the echoes of "Island in the Sun" lingered faintly, but they were soon drowned out by the clamor of new challenges and experiences. The biggest challenge of my life to date was in Shibuya. 

Several hours before I set foot in the city, I found myself waiting outside a conference hall alongside my classmates, Itadori and Kugisaki. Annoyance gnawed at me as it became apparent that neither Kugisaki nor Itadori took the warnings from our elders seriously. This was a crucial mission, one fraught with peril, yet they treated it with casual indifference, passing the time with a game of tic-tac-toe while we waited.

Eventually, the pair grew tired of their countless games and resorted to casual conversation until the meeting was dismissed. I must’ve been preoccupied, thinking about the mission or something, as I shuddered when Itadori placed a hand on my shoulder. 

“Hey,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Everything will be alright. Let’s just do our best out there, ‘kay?” 

Perhaps I was showing more emotion than I realized, but Itadori seemed to see right through me. He always knew what to say. However, couldn't allow myself to show well he was able to console me. Maintaining a tough exterior felt crucial. I’ve been let down too many times from a young age. There was no room for outsiders in my mind, just me and Tsumiki till the end. She was the only one I could truly trust.

“‘Course,” I replied, mustering a semblance of confidence. “I’m not going out there to half-ass things. Besides, Gojo will be there so everything’s fine. We’re just backup.” 

“Right,” Itadori responded with a nod. He gave my back a firm pat before flashing his signature grin. Seeing him smile reassured me that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright. 

.   .    .

Everything did not turn out alright. Gojo was promptly sealed, and we, the backup, were thrust into the forefront of battle. After emerging victorious in an initial battle with Itadori, the chaos only escalated as the night wore on. 

Itadori and I split up to better help our comrades. In my attempts to save them, I found myself in need of rescue, saved by a stranger who effortlessly overpowered me. I felt utterly pathetic, convinced my end was near. 

As the night proceeded, the events that unraveled became more chaotic by the minute. I had tried to save my peers and ended up getting rescued by a stranger. The very same man proceeded to wipe the floor with me without breaking a sweat. I felt pathetic. I thought I was finished.  Suddenly, he asked, “Hey you, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro.” 

“You mean your last name is not Zen’in?”

He held up his weapon, swiftly impaling himself in the head before me. 

“That makes me glad,” were his final words before he collapsed at my feet.

I owed my life to someone’s suicide. Over something as insignificant as my name? As if that name hadn’t already burdened me enough. Although I survived, that encounter only deepened my despair. I couldn’t shake the feeling that my fate mirrored his– if I wasn’t killed tonight, I was destined for a similar end. 

After witnessing one tragedy after another, I felt utterly drained. And now, just when I’m at my breaking point, some fool with a ponytail decides to pick a fight. My mind is still reeling from the encounter with the man who took his own life. I have no fight left in me; he caught me when I was at my weakest. 

Unless…

I’ve attempted this countless times before, but there was always someone to intervene to save me. But not tonight. Tonight, it’s just me.

I have to play my trump card. This is the night I finally sealed my fate. I couldn’t care less about my opponent’s strengths or weaknesses. This is my moment. My last resort. 

My moment had arrived.

"On an island in the sun

We'll be playing and having fun

And it makes me feel so fine

I can't control my brain"

It was absurd. Why now? Why did this stupid song have to worm its way into my head?

"With this divine treasure, I summon, Eight-Handled Sword, Divergent Sila, Divine General Mahoraga!"

I had finally done it.

‘I'm sorry, Itadori,’ was the last thought that crossed my mind. The melody of that cursed song faded into a distant echo just before I lost consciousness.

.   .   .

Did I black out, or had the world become brighter than ever? Sunlight blurred my vision, and I could hear the distant waves crash onto the shore. Birds chirped in a serene chorus and a gentle breeze carried warmth through the air. I woke up in paradise. 

Warm honey-colored eyes met mine. I squint as I cover my eyes from the distant sun rays to get a better look. “Fushiguro! Are you alright?” With his pink hair slicked back, a goofy grin spread across his face, and a warm tan gracing his skin, Itadori extended his hand out to me. “You took a pretty hard fall there,” he said, barely containing his laughter.

I looked to my left to find Kugisaki, a guilty expression written all over her face. “My god,” she exclaimed, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Don’t scare me like that, I thought I killed you!” 

Itadori let out a hearty chuckle. “Kugisaki went a bit overboard with the spike and nailed you,” he explained, amusement evident in his voice. “No pun intended.”

Disoriented and confused, I scanned my surroundings. Didn’t I just die?. “Where are we?” I blurt out. Could this be the afterlife? Did Itadori and Kugisaki die in Shibuya too? No, this scene was too familiar, too tangible to be heaven. It was almost like a distant memory.

“The beach, dude,” Itadori replied, shaking his head as he helped me up with a strong hand. “Dammit, Kugisaki, you gave Fushiguro brain damage!” 

“I did not!” Kugisaki protested. “He’s just disoriented. Give him a minute!” 

Warm sand cushioned my feet, a limitless ocean stretched out underneath a cerulean sky. I look up and see a tall net, wavering in the salty air with each pull of the tide. I was standing on a beach volleyball court, wearing swim trunks and all. I was in the midst of a tropical getaway.

“When you're on a golden sea

You don't need no memory

Just a place to call your own

As we drift into the zone”

The lyrics of the song resurfaced, echoing in the back of my mind. 

I’m taken out of my daydream by two large hands cupping my face. “Dude,” Itadori’s voice broke through, bringing me back to reality. Was this reality? “Oh man, Kugisaki, he’s totally out of it!” 

For a moment, I melt into Itadori’s palms, a sense of calm washing over me. Maybe I did take a hard fall. Snapping back to my senses, I slap away Itadori’s hands from my face. “You idiot, I’m fine,” I grumble. 

Itadori’s expression turned blank before he burst into laughter. “Oh, no, he’s definitely fine! Never mind~!” he called out to Kuigisaki. Then, he turns to me with a warm and sincere smile. “I thought we lost ya there.” 

Warmth graces my cheeks, and I feel gradually flustered. My heart fluttered, and I felt the urge to melt in a puddle all over again, wanting to return his soft look. Instead, I rolled my eyes and turned away, walking myself to the sidelines to get some water. 

For once, the sun was beating down on my back, its warmth pleasant and balmy.  Similar to the flush on my cheeks, I wasn’t hating the heat for once, it actually felt… nice? Despite that, I found myself on the sidelines yet again.

Despite my current position, I felt my lips curl into a faint smile, relishing the rare enjoyment of the Summer atmosphere. The laughter of my friends filled my ears as I leaned back, warm sand beneath my palms, grounding me as I observed their lively game of volleyball. Itadori soared into the air for a powerful spike, momentarily blocking the sun. SLAM! The ball hits out of bounds, tumbling toward the ocean, and Kugisaki runs over to retrieve it. 

Meanwhile, Itadori approaches me once more, extending his hand. 

“C’mon Fushiguro,” he encourages me. “You gonna play or what?” 

I shake my head. “Go on without me, I’ll be fine.” I open my water bottle and take a sip. The water is thick and putridly warm. Itadori pouts at my answer, shaking his head. “You’re playing,” he decides for me. He reaches down for my hand and drags me onto the court. Instead of letting go, he pauses for a moment, allowing our fingers to intertwine. His palms felt warm and inviting, safe and secure. He turned his head towards me, radiating warmth that seemed to glow underneath the sun,  as he flashed the brightest smile I had ever seen. 

I look down and suddenly notice our position of holding hands. I feel a blush return to my cheeks once more, but I don’t fight Itadori’s gesture. Instead, I avert my gaze, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Something the matter, Fushiguro?” Itadori asked, genuine concern laced in his question.

I shake my head. “No.” 

Nothing was wrong. I felt… content.

It was like that one part in the song. My favorite part, actually: 

“We'll run away together

We'll spend some time forever

We'll never feel bad anymore”

I look down at our intertwined hands once more, admiring the stark contrast between Itadori’s hands and mine. His were larger, calloused, and adorned with various scars that spoke of untold tales of hardship and battles fought. It was like studying a map of various trials and tribulations. I found myself drawn to these marks, wondering about the stories behind each one. What did they signify? When did they appear? I never remembered him having so many scars on his hands before, though. Maybe it’s because I never bothered to look… but something felt off. 

As I continued to gaze, a sense of unease crept over me. It’s as if his hand was undergoing some sort of twisted transformation. The scars, once healed and faded, began to take on a form of livelihood, twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes. Suddenly, they erupted into fresh wounds, skin tearing at the seams, oozing blood that pooled around our intertwined fingers.

I watched as the crimson liquid stained our hands in a horrific display. Sounds of malicious laughter echoed faintly in the background, sending shivers down my spine. 

“Fushiguro?” Itadori's voice broke through, pulling me back to reality. His question was posed as if nothing was wrong. As if I was the one seeing things. Despite hearing his voice, I couldn't shake off the horror that gripped me. 

I wanted to look up, to find solace in his smiling face, to feel that familiar warmth in my chest. Yet, I couldn't tear my gaze away from his bleeding hands. The sight alone sent chills down my spine. I wanted to let go, to escape from this dream-turned-nightmare, but something held me back, like an invisible force chaining me to him.

“Fushiguro?” Itadori's voice sounded strained now, laced with concern. He called out my name again, each utterance heavier with urgency.

“FUSHIGURO?!” His voice escalated to a scream that reverberated through my mind, drowning out the unsettling laughter that continued to echo around us.

A dark ominous presence enveloped us. I felt shaken to my core. As my breathing escalated with panic, red pooled into my eyes as my surroundings gradually faded out. 

.            .            .

My eyes are hazy when they open, greeted by a world spinning in disarray. A pounding headache pulses through my skull, matched by a sharp, stabbing pain in my side. The ringing in my ears persists, Itadori's desperate shouts echoing relentlessly in my mind. I detect the faint scent of cigarette smoke, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that stains my face. Yet, strangely, there's no trace of blood around me.

I find myself sitting alone on a dimly lit streetside, faint illumination barely casting shadows around me. My gaze drifts upward, drawn to the imposing silhouette of a sky bridge above. In the distance, I can make out the faint figures of Shoko and Yaga, their presence a distant comfort amid bustling chaos.

I'm alive.

The realization washes over me like a tidal wave; relief with a gnawing sense of unease. Perhaps, deep down, I never truly wanted to die. The concept of mortality now looms over me with newfound weight, casting doubt on the meaning I once held about my fate. Maybe I didn’t want to die just yet. 

With weary eyes, I shift my gaze upward to the night sky, where the moon hangs alone amongst drifting clouds. A cool breeze sweeps through, stealing what little warmth remains. When did it become so cold? The moon's soft glow casts over the desolate ruins of what is now Shibuya, illuminating the remnants of a city once surging with life.

I squint, trying to keep myself awake. I focus on calming myself down by studying the moon. As I do so, my breath steadies, and I’m met with another realization: the moon owes its luminance to the light of the sun. Suddenly, only one thought encapsulates my mind: where is my sunshine now?

[simplywicked]

(Fairies vs Witches) Drawing Power Source: The Moon

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

In midnight's glow, the witch does stand, Her fingers trace a silver band, From crescent light to full moon's bloom, She weaves her spells in shadows' loom.

With whispered words and hands held high, She draws the magic from the sky, Moonbeams dance and stars align, In lunar light, her powers shine.

Her eyes aglow, a mystic gleam, She conjures dreams from night's dark stream, A lunar witch, with power pure, In moonlit nights, her spells endure.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

🐈‍⬛Edit created by yours truly

🐦‍⬛Outfit created by @evellsims

🖤Gameplay @sp-creates "Fairies vs Witches"

🖤Gameplay @wickedpixxel "Coven of Darkness Mod"

[jimmys-zeppelin]

moonbeam

ch. v

table of contents

may 14, 1998

Sabrina entered Clarence’s with a food-full plastic bag in her hand. Lunch. And she was starving.

There were still a few finishing touches she had to put on the second of Jimmy’s three suits. She wouldn’t be done with the third until Sunday at the least. Luckily, she had peace of mind in knowing he would only need one of the suits for his trip. She debated giving him a call about the status of his garments…

Perhaps it would be too much.

But he said to call, her mind urged her.

“Fuck this,” Sabrina muttered to herself. Upon entering her office, the silence was serene. The tinny Lionel Richie playing inside the store was muffled behind the makeshift partition and she hummed along to All Night Long as she unpacked her Chinese takeaway. A few loud steps boomed up the creaky staircase—footsteps she knew well as Daniel’s—and soon his tall, lanky figure appeared into the office.

She muttered a ‘hello’ to him while taking her seat at her desk. Daniel did the same, waving to her with similar regard. He had propped open a book and smacked a piece of gum between his teeth. Fresh out of university, Daniel had a degree in Textiles; something Sabrina had no idea was a possible degree path.

The irony of the situation was that he was apprenticing under her. It gave Sabrina a silly boost to her ego.

She split her chopsticks and cracked open her Coke before she began to dig in. Not halfway into her first mouthful of chicken fried rice, Daniel slapped his book shut and an uncomfortable silence fell over them.

"I heard Jimmy Page was in for a fitting?" he asked.

Sabrina froze, slowly finishing her mouthful of food while the sound of her heart pounded throughout her entire body.

She gulped, "Yeah...last week."

"Fuck. Right when I catch a cold. How was he? What did he get?"

"Three suits. I've finished two of them."

"Seriously?" he exclaimed.

"Dunno why everyone's shitting themselves about this guy. He's just a normal bloke. Very nice." And kinda hot...

"Sab, I know you like the Spice Girls and that George Michael fruit but this guy was huge back in the day. I wonder why he'd even come to our store to be fitted."

"My dad and brother buzz off rock music so I know who he is, but he's a normal person. And he's a regular here, comes at least once every week or so. Guess he likes the savings," Sabrina shrugged.

Daniel's eyebrows furrowed, "How come I've never seen him?"

"Just unlucky, I guess," she teased, a grin spreading over her face. "I gave him your card, though. Mine hadn't come in yet so I put in a good word for you."

Excitement shone through his eyes, seemingly jumping for joy while stationed in his seat, "I could kiss you right now, Sab," then paused to think. "Did he leave his number?"

"Yeah, but I'd have to find the note I made with it."

A partial lie. Sabrina had written his number into her files for safekeeping, but she had left his receipt at her flat. She could practically see it laying beside her phone, the numbers begging to be dialed and given a chance.

"When you do, I wanna call to tell him the suits are ready," Daniel stood.

Sabrina guffawed, "Why would I let you call when I've done all the work?"

"Sab, what if he answers? It'd be an honor to tell him his suits are ready to be picked up."

"You sound like my brother right now," she chuckled. "He was practically on his knees asking for Jimmy's phone number after I told him."

"Please," he begged. He stepped closer to Sabrina's desk, picking one of the three fortune cookies she'd gotten with her meal.

“No,” she answered, “When you get your own famous client, then you can call them whenever you want.”

☽

The dial tone droned through the phone's receiver. Sabrina fought with herself over whether or not to press the final number to Jimmy's phone number. A sudden impulse decision made her press the number and soon the phone began to ring.

As her palms became increasingly sweatier, Sabrina could only imagine the conversation ahead. What would he say? How would he say it? What would she say? Suddenly, she felt transported back to her secondary school days when calling her crush's phone number. Then, she felt dumb.

She shook the anxiety from her mind and when the last ring was about to complete itself, the line clicked, "Hello?" his gentle voice said through the phone. Sabrina felt her heart melt just a little inside.

"Hi, this is Sabrina from Clarence's. Is this Jimmy?" Sabrina said the message as she normally would have to a normal customer. But she and Jimmy knew that he was anything but a normal customer and their interactions were anything but normal.

"Hi, Sabrina. This is Jimmy, yes. How are you?" Jimmy asked.

Sabrina smiled to herself, a step shy of giggling into the phone. "Good, thank you. And yourself?"

"Much better now," he paused to exhale amusedly. "Are you calling about the suits?"

"Yes, actually. The black and blue suits are ready for pickup, but the green one will have to wait until Sunday. I know you said you only needed one ready for today, but I tried my best to have all of them ready for you."

"That's quite alright, Sabrina. Shall I stop by this afternoon to pick them up?"

"That would be splendid, Jimmy."

Splendid?

"And will I have the honor of seeing you? I like to thank my tailors personally after I've seen their handiwork."

Sabrina felt her heart race in her chest when he spoke, "I'll be here until four as usual."

Jimmy paused for what seemed like a check of his watch. "I should get going then..." he chuckled. "I'll have someone come pick me up and I should be there soon."

"Sounds good," she paused for a beat, "People are buzzing about your appearance last week. I just spoke with Daniel over lunch and he was very upset to have missed you."

"Maybe he can alter some other piece of clothing I should buy and he can make my acquaintance. But I think I'm set on who I have altering my clothes now."

"Oh really? Who would that be, then?"

Jimmy laughed softly, "You, of course, darling."

"Oh—" Sabrina started, overcome with a short wave of shock at his response. "You haven't even seen my work yet and you're already praising it."

"You do a great job as a cashier. And you are head of alterations, aren't you?"

"That doesn't have anything to do with the work I do—"

"It has everything to do with it," Jimmy answered enthusiastically. "Listen, I'll be there in an hour. Can you wait for me?"

Daniel's footsteps came up the stairs once again. Sabrina was relieved the conversation had been coming to an end when he entered through the curtain. He furrowed his brow and signaled the phone with his fingers, silently asking who she was talking to.

"Of course I can wait, Jimmy," she said.

"Jimmy Page?” Daniel whispered loudly, nearly jumping for joy at the prospect. Sabrina nodded, turning away from him so as not to distract from her conversation.

"Beautiful...I'll see you, Sabrina."

Her heart fluttered, "Bye, Jimmy," she said. Upon placing the phone back onto the receiver, Sabrina let out a deep sigh, collapsing herself onto the desk.

“Not fair,” Daniel complained. He let out a distressed sigh before continuing, "I need your help with a customer. Are you busy?"

☽

Sabrina stood outside in the back alleyway of Clarence’s with Conner as he puffed on a cigarette. This was their usual ritual during the warmer months when she needed an additional moment away from the cash register or sewing machine. Conner didn’t mind, he enjoyed the extra bit of conversation while not being under the managerial watchful eye. She had had no qualms about the hobby itself, but the stench of the tobacco brought back nauseating memories.

Yet, despite this, she held an unlit cigarette between her fingers to further cast the illusion that she was on a “smoke break”.

"Why are you stood out here with me again?" Conner asked, not minding Sabrina as he flicked his bright green Bic.

The weather was too warm to be with a sweater, yet too cool to comfortably be without one. Sabrina rocked back and forth on her heels waiting to see if Jimmy's car would approach; an attempt at raising her body heat.

"Needed the fresh air,” she answered.

"You're second-hand smoking off me, Sab."

"Yeah, you should really kick that habit..." she said mindlessly, still stretching her neck to peer out into the quiet street. She rolled the cigarette between her fingers nervously.

"Why? So we can stand here and look like a couple of drug dealers?" Conner laughed, inhaling and blowing the air away from Sabrina's face, only for the wind to blow it back in her direction.

Sabrina rolled her eyes, "It's not good for you. Anyway, I'm headed back in; I'm starting to get cold out here."

"Is Jimmy coming back today?" Conner teased. "I heard Daniel talking shit earlier."

"About me?" Sabrina asked with a laugh. To his nod she said, "He's just jealous because he's the one who wants to be face deep in Jimmy's crotch."

"You say that like you weren't absolutely drooling all over him the other day."

"I wasn't!" Sabrina shot back. "If anything, Jimmy's the one flirting with me."

Conner hummed in disagreement, "I think you like the older ones and don't realize it, Sab. Just be careful. Men like him have whole mausoleums in their wardrobes. And those skeletons are dusty..." he said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"How would you know?"

"You just know, Sabrina," he insisted. "What time is it?"

She checked the time on her watch, "Nearly four. Jimmy's probably here already. I'll catch you inside,” she said, passing Conner back his cigarette.

"Later," he replied, watching as Sabrina headed back out into the street to enter back into Clarence's through the front.

Sabrina was barely in the door when she heard someone call her name from the sidewalk. Jimmy, with his hands deep in his pockets, started on a light jog so as to approach her faster.

"Glad I caught you," he smiled, the corners of his eyes scrunching so all she could see were his pupils. He held the door for her as they entered back into the store; the regulated temperature bringing Sabrina some relief.

"I thought I had nearly missed you," Sabrina replied. "I was just in the back for a little bit. Taking in some outside air."

"Long day?"

"It's been alright. Nothing too bad," She began leading him back up into the fitting area. They bypassed her coworkers who seemed not to notice Jimmy—at least for the time being.

Jimmy's suits were hung in a changing booth where Sabrina had gone to retrieve them. She gave the zipped up bags a good pat before coming into the main area. "Do you want to take a look?"

He shook his head and reached out to Sabrina for the bags that nearly matched her height. They looked much smaller in his grasp. "I trust you."

"Do you?" She teased.

Jimmy took a deep breath, his exhale making it obvious he was holding back a laugh.

"Come on, Jimmy, I just want to see if you like them."

"I'm sure I will, Sabrina."

"Please," Sabrina countered. She batted her eyelids so as to draw a laugh from him. This time she broke through, once again getting the chance to see the delicate crow's feet bunch up by his eyes and to see the shake of his head as he couldn't believe she’d gotten him. It was only then that she noted his cologne again. The combination of it with the smell of the leather jacket he wore was sure to stir up any woman's interest.

He grimaced a bit at her begging, still sure (as he had said) that her work would have been to the quality that he had expected. But just to give her the satisfaction, Jimmy unzipped the bag and examined the navy colored suit coat and eyed it meticulously.

"Just as I thought. Wonderful work, Sabrina."

Sabrina nodded. "Thank you," she paused, "You can, uhm, you can call me Sab—if you want. All my friends call me Sab." she cringed as the words left her mouth, though, couldn't reverse them now.

"Sab," Jimmy replied, testing out how the name sounded on his lips. He played with the 'B' at the end for a moment, saying her name in full before fixing his gaze back onto her.

"You got it out of your system?" she smiled.

"I'm only teasing. I'll keep that in mind."

"Have you got any nicknames?" she asked.

"Just Jimmy. My full name's James."

"That rhymes," Sabrina chuckled. "Anyone call you Jim?"

"Not anyone that I like," he answered, his eyes firmly on hers the entire time, occasionally glancing away to map out the features of her face. She knew he had spotted not only the dark circles beneath her eyes, but also the smile lines that her mother nagged her about on a consistent basis. Jimmy held an amused look in his eyes, like he wanted to say something he couldn't.

Sabrina felt that she was unable to look away from him. His face seemed to have so much to offer her: dimpled cheeks further made charming by the combination of time and weight; Adam's apple bobbing as he took in steady breaths; the soft curl of his hair swiping his forehead like an older Superman trying hard to retain his image. All combined, she simply couldn't peel her eyes off him.

"Alright then," Sabrina said, "So you're happy with the suits? They'll serve you adequately for your time in America?"

"Absolutely. Thank you very much, Sab," he replied, nudging her with his elbow.

"You're very welcome. And since you've paid, you're free to go," she said, using her heels to begin rocking back and forth again.

"Alright, so I'll see you around then. I'll come get the last suit when I come back."

Sabrina nodded, "Safe travels, Jimmy."

He gave her a small smile and nodded. Jimmy's hand came out to touch her shoulder and it was as if all the cells in her body froze. Her breath hitched softly, then was a soft squeeze of his hand. Seconds later, he was gone again, and Sabrina watched as he trotted down the steps. She didn’t move a single muscle until well after she heard the jingling bells of the front door, signifying Jimmy’s exit.

☽

Later, Sabrina had come to find out that Jimmy had left her an extra hundred pounds as gratuity at the register. Much to her dismay, she pocketed it on her way out the door. A fleeting thought entered her mind that she should give him a call and reprimand him for his tip.

Then she debated if it was even worth it. She didn't want to make it seem as if she was too comfortable around him. After all, she barely knew him. That wasn’t to say she wasn't against getting to know him better.

The Northern line train rumbled along its tracks and Sabrina idly watched as people engaged in a myriad of activities. One woman sat with her nose in a book, her presumed son seated beside her, beating the living shit out of his Gameboy. Another man stoically read his Wembley Observer; the front page reading "Bid to Oust Tory Chief", something Sabrina would have to ask her father about later on.

She was nearly asleep on the train up to Brent Cross. Her mother had insisted she come for dinner as she had cooked extra and "wanted her daughter back home", if only for one night. Sabrina couldn't deny that a home cooked meal would do her some good. She could barely fry an egg without setting her flat ablaze so she was stuck with shoddy sandwiches and cheap takeout.

The train slowed to a stop at Brent Cross station, the tiled signs becoming clearer with each passing moment. Sabrina barely wasted a second following the opening of the doors before she was on the platform and weaving through the corridors she grew to know so well.

Her father's red Volkswagen flashed its lights at her upon her exiting the station. Sabrina made a quick approach to the car, entering the vehicle to see her father's outstretched arms.

Granting him the hug, Sabrina's father hummed contentedly. "Always great to receive a hug from your child. How are you Beanie?"

"No longer a child, that's for sure, Dad," Sabrina chuckled. "Where's Zach?" she asked as the car backed away from its spot.

"Home. Your mum needed help with something or other..." he trailed off, forgetting just why Zachary had stayed at home. He waved off the question. "You been alright, dear?"

Sabrina nodded, answering, "Everything's...going."

"Your mother worries about you being in that flat all alone. I tell her you'll be fine, but of course I worry about you, too, darling."

A pang of muted annoyance hit her, but she knew he had a good point. Nonetheless, she had to dispel their worries.

"I think I might get back into dating soon...maybe I'll have someone to keep me even more safe,” she lied.

"Oh, don't tell your mother," her father breathed a laugh, "She'll ask too many questions. Plus she's still holding out hope for Shaun..." he trailed off.

Sabrina scoffed. “What for?”

“Oh, come on, Beanie. You were together so long. Don’t tell me he’s dead to you already.”

That and more. “Shaun’s a prick,” she said, unable to hold back.

There was a tsk of his tongue, "Don't say that."

It was much quieter following the stunted conversation point about Shaun. Sabrina knew that what he had done didn't deserve her forgiveness; not for a very long time. There was no way her parents would understand his actions, either. This all left her in even more of a dilemma with her "beloved" ex-boyfriend.

"Heard any good music lately?" Sabrina tried. They were nearly home free, the familiar turns of the streets she had spent her childhood and teenage years on started to flood her mind with memories.

"Just my old eight-tracks. Stones, Clapton, this, that, the other. You?"

"I don't know," Sabrina trailed off, "Not much besides the radio playing at work. CD's, the like." She shrugged.

"Oh, I have a CD you may like. Remind me to get it for you before you leave," his fingers tapped at the steering wheel in time to the bass of the song playing quietly on the radio. They pulled into the driveway.

"Yeah? Who?"

"George Michael. I picked it up 'cause it looked interesting and it was quite good. Think you'll like it."

“What’s it called?” she asked, hoping the disc wouldn’t be one she already had in her collection.

“Something like Star Girl or what have you…it’s only got a few songs on it. But it has that song you like on it, Everything She Wants. An acoustic version of it.”

Excitement filled Sabrina’s chest. She had been putting off buying the Star People ‘97 single mostly because of her inability to justify the purchase. But she had also been unable to buy it because she could never find it in any shops near her. It was a wonder how her father had managed to encounter it in the tiny shops of Brent Cross. She would interrogate further once she had the disc in her hands.

As the two entered Sabrina's childhood home, the look and feel of the place always gave her an indescribable blast from the past. The wallpapered walls were the same as the ones that littered the backgrounds of hers and Zachary's childhood photos.

The shag carpet had been freshly hoovered—meaning shoes were forbidden until the carpet was trampled over again—the colors remained the very same, if not a bit faded from time. Sabrina gripped at the long carpet with her socks just as she had many-a-time in her teenage years when being lectured at dinner.

She could already tell this visit home wasn’t going to be the relaxing break from reality she was hoping. There was something in the air. And Sabrina didn’t like it one bit.

Everyone managed pleasantries as usual, but once around the table, the atmosphere made Sabrina more uneasy.

The clinking of silverware on ceramic put Sabrina’s nerves on edge and the usual delicious smell of Yorkshire pudding was rancid in her nostrils.

"David, did you get the radishes at the market like I asked you to?" Her mother, Georgia, asked.

The adult children very well knew the answer to the question. The two merely exchanged glances, hoping to god they would be spared from a passive aggressive discussion between their parents.

David looked up from his plate. He pretended a pondering look before looking regrettably at his wife, "Sorry George, I forgot," he swallowed, "Was so excited to see our Beanie that it slipped my mind."

Sabrina's mother fixed her gaze to her instead, "Sabrina, you'll never guess who I spoke to this week."

She broke off a piece of Yorkshire pudding and thought through all the people she could have possibly spoken to. She came up empty. "Hm?"

Zachary's foot nudged Sabrina's beneath the table. The knowing look he gave her made her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. Her expression turned in an instant.

"Shaun called this week," Georgia quipped excitedly, "Don't make that face! He said he wishes you both left off on a better note."

"Mum—" Sabrina started.

"Plus, he was so keen on proposing! And you went and clipped his wings, darling. He was so upset, the poor thing."

Finding that she couldn't possibly muster a response, Sabrina stared idly back at her mother.

"Say something, dear, don't just stare at me all bug-eyed."

"I haven't quite come to terms with him myself, Mum. I still need to do some personal reflection," Sabrina answered as calmly as she could manage.

"What does that even mean?" she threw her hands up. "I invited him for dinner on Sunday. I'd better hope you'll be in attendance."

Sabrina took another beat. "I'll have to politely decline. I'm busy this Sunday."

"Oh—" Georgia said. "You'll be missed, then."

"Sab, can you pass the mash, please?" Zachary mumbled. Without a word, she obliged, transferring the heavy bowl to her brother's hands.

The buzzing in her pocket diverted Sabrina's attention. She furrowed her brow, angling herself in her seat to better retrieve her phone from her jeans. "Sorry," she said.

Jimmy Page — mobile flashed on the screen back at her. Sabrina blinked once, then twice. The name didn't budge. Eventually she stared long enough that the call dropped. It was only then that she heard her heart pounding in her ears and felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

She wondered what Jimmy could have possibly wanted from her at this hour...

“Everything okay?” her father asked.

Sabrina couldn’t help a stammer. "Sorry, it was—uhm—a colleague."

"You're red as a tomato…quite some colleague," Zachary chuckled. Sabrina kicked him beneath the table and quickly put her cell phone back into her pocket. She reached for her glass of water, downing the rest of the liquid as the rest of the table sat in silence.

The feeling of her cell phone in her pocket was now an unwelcome intrusion. Conversation carried on between Sabrina’s family as she idly sat there. Stewing.

The assumption of Sabrina’s mother that she would be enthusiastic about dinner with Shaun followed by the unsolicited call from Jimmy was the one-two punch she didn’t know would be coming her way that evening. Perhaps this was the horrible sick-to-her-stomach feeling that had welcomed her into her parent’s home just half an hour earlier.

“Excuse me,” Sabrina said suddenly. Her feet carried her up the stairs, muscle memory guiding her back to her lilac and white striped bedroom. She swung the door closed, not quite slamming it, but pushing it hard enough that the door easily clicked into place.

“God,” she exhaled, letting her breath go as if she had been holding it in for much too long. Her face was hot and she pushed her thick, dark hair out away from her eyes. Her vision clouded over and she let herself go for long enough that her cheeks became streaked with tears. She wiped them away quickly, not fully allowing herself to have the moment she so desperately needed in light of her mother’s insensitivity.

Sabrina looked around her childhood bedroom, turning so she could reach for the sticker-laden light switch. The wallpaper that had been cut around it had been peeling for fifteen years, the yellowing beginning only recently. The warm glow of the yellow light placed Sabrina back into the mid-80s. The Raggedy Ann doll on her bed, the gargantuan Wham! poster on the wall above her headboard, and finally, her vanity. Looking at it now, she kind of wanted to take it back to her flat with her. The vanity that once held dozens of perfume bottles and all sorts of makeup products was now so empty it looked out of place in her old bedroom.

She sat on the pink suede-cushioned stool, crossing one leg over the other and holding her face in her hands. Her breath was the only sound she focused on for a long while. The steadiness brought her back to a better sense of calm. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket; an attempt to better examine what had just happened.

MISSED CALL

Jimmy Page — mobile

CALL BACK | EXIT

“Why the fuck…?” Sabrina whispered to herself. Her fingers ghosted between the arrow keys of “Call Back” and “EXIT” and considered calling him back before nervousness got the better of her and she clicked away from the pop-up.

Footsteps became louder as they squeaked up the staircase, nearer and nearer to her bedroom. Silence. Then, “Sab?” Zachary’s muffled voice came through the door. “You alright?”

In a rush, Sabrina stood and shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Yeah!” she exclaimed all too loud, “I’m—I just needed a minute.”

The door opened without so much as a knock, “I told her not to say anything about Shaun, that you wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay, Zach. It’s my fault I haven’t told her what happened yet.”

“Well, yeah, but you shouldn't have to. It’s over, she shouldn’t keep pestering you about him.”

Sabrina sighed, “I know. I know…”

There was a lull, Zachary staring at the floor, not wanting to ask, but desperately wanting to know…

“So, who called you?” he asked, a smile growing on either side of his lips.

--

masterlist | playlist | ao3

taglist: @keepcalmandcarryfire @witchesdust @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @modernloverss @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx @blackberryblossom @jimmypages @foreverandadaydarling @lzep @n0quart3r @verrbena-in-the-air if you want to be added to the list let me know!

[post-hummus]

Catfish; Sunset & Moonbeam variants ☼☽

[askraywritten]

Conjured from the magnificent moonbeams of the second summer solstice...

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Welcome to the Glade of Dreams!

Raywritten is a reimagining of the Rayman series from before the beginning to after the end by none other than Geeky Goo! As a fan of the series myself, one of my biggest gripes with it is how loose the continuity is between games, and Raywritten serves to tie every single game, spinoff, and long-forgotten cast member together while adding my own spin to the world and characters. This blog will provide updates and behind-the-scenes looks at the fanfic, as well as, primarily, provide a Q&A so that you (and I) can get a feel for this iteration of the characters.

The Glade does not tolerate hatred or discrimination of any kind, so if you intend to come at this series or its headcanons with any of that, I kindly ask that you leave.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Frequently(?) Asked Questions! ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Q: Will [x Rayman character] be included in this story's lore?

A: Absolutely! I hope to find a purpose for every character in the series, no matter how obscure. Be prepared to see faces like Joe the Alien, Clara the Witch, and even Ed from Tonic Trouble!

Q: How often will you answer questions?

A: My schedule is very spontaneous, so I might not always have time to answer your questions. I tend to do them in batches, though, so keep an eye on this blog!

Q: How will you tackle The Magician and Ales Mansay?

A: This is something I've been trying to answer myself ever since I joined the fandom. Real ones from DA will remember "Ales's Return" (yikes) and my Twitter RP escapades in which Ales Mansay was a cursed version of the Magician, but in Raywritten, I'm doing something totally different. Stay tuned!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[youre-only-gay-once]

Lady Moonbeam ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

[moon-kissed-seraphiine]

Rules☾₊ ⊹ what i will write:

fluff

Angst

Romance

Platonic

what i wont write:

Smut (Im 17)

Character x Character

[seeksmoon]

☽     𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩  𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

name  :  alune.

nickname  :  lunie,  lune  ;  moonbeam  (  by  @fcrgiven  ).

gender  :  female,  albeit  being  detached  from  her  physical  form  made  her  indifferent  towards  it,  thus  she  considers  herself  more  or  less  nonbinary  (  &&.  uses  both  she / her  and  they / them  pronouns  ).

romantic  orientation  :  panromantic,  she's  also  pansexual!

preferred  pet  names  :  anything  moon  and  night  related  ;  cute  &&.  cutie  will  make  her  melt.  all  princesses,  queens,  goddesses  and  angels  too,  though  it's  very  much  verse  dependent.

relationship  status  :  verse  dependent,  but  by  default  in  a  relationship  (  more  like  complicated  situationship  )  with  @fcrgiven's  yasuo.  there  are  also  other  very,  very,  very  important  connections  :  despite  her  somewhat  one - sided  crush,  she  can  develop  feelings  for  other  persons,  @withinchains'  kayn  for  example  :)  i  usually  write  alune  as  obsessed  with  the  unforgiven  &&.  oftentime  sad  that  her  feelings  aren't  noticed  or  reciprocated,  which  opens  many  ways  to  other  characters  to  comfort  lunie  or  help  her  deal  with  her  fascination.  that  gives  alune  a  wholly  new  perspective  on  certain  aspects  to  romantic  conections  and  can  lead  to  changing  her  mind  regarding  her  partner - to - be.  other  notable  relationships  include  a  very  private  romance  with  @deadn30n's  yone,  kept  secret  from  everyone  :  the  band,  the  public,  the  press.  and  also!!  i'm  plotting  a  little  bit  with  @oriphical........  

opinion  on  true  love  :  i  know  these  are  romantic  headcanons,  but  romance  aside  —  isn't  alune's  and  phel's  love  the  truest?  she's  experiencing  the  purest  kind  of  affection  on  a  daily  basis,  all  the  time,  every  second.  for  her  not  to  believe  in  the  concept  would  be  insane.

opinion  on  love  at  first  sight  :  yes,  yes,  yes!  alune's  a  seer,  a  future  teller,  so  i  believe  she  can  fall  in  love  seeing  someone  for  the  first  time  because  it  would  also  be  easy  to  see  their  future  together!!

how  ‘romantic’  are  they?  :  very.  period.  she's  a  dramatic  soul,  seeking  deep  connections  and  bonds  —  though  in  her  own  way.

ideal  physical  traits  :  she's  fond  of  guard  dogs  —  bigger,  taller,  scarier,  contrasting  to  her  fragility  (  basically,  able  to  protect  her  physically  ).

ideal  personality  traits  :  she  adores  possessiveness  and  dominance  that  easily  turns  into  submission  at  her  request.  loyalty  is  a  must  and  so  is  endless  devotion.

unattractive  physical  traits  :  none?

unattractive  personality  traits  :  stupidity.

ideal  date  :  talk  to  her,  spoil  her,  adore  her  —  more  than  usually,  and  she'll  be  content.

do  they  have  a  type?  :  as  mentioned  above,  but  i'll  say  it  again  :  guard  dogs.  one  that  are  submissive  in  a  way  a  livestock  guardian  is  submissive  to  the  sheep  it  protects.  someone  who  would  willingly  do  anything  for  her  without  her  uttering  a  word.  strong  persons  :  be  it  physically  or  mentally,  though  she  leans  into  the  former.

average  relationship  length  :  very  dependent,  as  i  haven't  explored  many  relationships  with  alune  yet,  but  i  headcanon  them  to  be  long  lasting  ;  if  alune  places  her  feelings  onto  someone,  it's  not  easy  for  her  to  stop  adoring  them.

preferred  non - sexual  intimacy  :  physical  touch  —  guiding  her  through  a  crowd,  holding  her  hand,  stroking  her  hair  ;  anything  that  screams  "  she's  mine!  ",  even  though  it's  her  who's  the  owner  in  the  end  :)

opinion  of  public  affection  :  yes,  yes,  yes!!  alune  loves  being  worshipped  and  treated  with  adoration  shamelessly,  no  matter  where  she  is  and  with  whom.

past  relationships?  :  another  verse  dependent  subject,  albeit  in  her  modern  verse,  she  had  one.  i  say  she  wouldn't  settle  for  anything  less  than  princess  treatment  and  nothing  less  than  at  least  matches her  brother's  efforts,  but  in  reality,  alune  tends  to  pick  assholes  :  it  wasn't  a  very  long  relationship,  but  it  was  very  important.  the  heartbreak  forever  shaped  alune's  perception  on  relationships.

[pvrkacciosan]

The Heart of the Lioness: ☽⋆16⋆☾

The Witch Who Was

The Heart of the Lioness Masterlist

Previous Part

The Coastline air blew cold across the ships deck, but the wind did little too cool the sweating bodies on board. Despite the chill, the sun was blisteringly strong above them. The rays going unnoticed by those training on the main deck, unfazed by the reddening of their skin.

Brielle watched Alexi drop and roll across, a small half sword in hand, Gavriel poised a stance away. Vera with her dark hair pulled back as she copied matching each of Rowan's hit. It was relentless.

Training with immortal warriors with centuries of fighting experience was no easy feat. Brielle could remember when she would come to visit her brother before she was blood sworn, It was Gavriel and Rowan who oversaw her training before she settled into her immortality. They hadn't been easy on her then, just as they weren't on her spies now, nor did she expect them to be.

She trained her spies to peak condition, spying was easy but getting away if you'd been caught was the harder part and getting caught in their line of work was not an option.

Alexi swung upward for her brother, he spun backwards, dodging with the ease of a snake delivering a lethal blow to its prey. Vera seemed to have more luck, preempting Rowan's advance, she tripped him up with the tip of her blade, Rowan went down with a thump and a curse, but was quick to his feet when she swung for him once more.

"You trained them yourself?" The King of Adarlan was watching the fighting as he questioned her, his young eyes tracking the movement and advances of each Fae body whirling and launching into an attack.

"Each of us train our own soldiers, Brielle's spies are no exception" 

The smirk spread onto her mates face before he'd even finished his sentence, Brielle couldn't help admiring the beauty of his expression when he tilted his head to look at her. The air in her throat begun to swell, the smile of Fenrys Moonbeam would officially be the death of her, no glorified song of her death for around a campfire. A hand slide into her own, she could feel ever callus and perfect imperfection on his hands. She squeezed, and he returned it, turning back to watch the sparring.

"So how far is your reach of spies?"

When she slide her gaze to Dorian once more, she lifted a brow to meet him when he finally moved his attention from the fighting, 

"Revealing my stretch of secrets would be betraying my own advantages. I am still in operation, much more work can get done in the shadows of the world then global beliefs suggests."

Brielle couldn't entirely decipher whether the look evident on the kings face was sprouted from fear or curiosity.

"Do you act out of Rifthold at least?"

"The Capital of Adarlan? Of course" The first part of her statement made Dorian feel slightly inadequate in his knowledge, as though asking such questions were for those without common sense. Brielle gestured her head towards the nimble body of Alexi as he leaned backwards, the angle an unnatural sort of bend for ones back whilst standing on both feet. "Alexi is the division commander for our guild in Rifthold"

Dorian looked back towards the young Fae spy, who continued to hold his own out against her brother. 

"And... The Pride?" Brielle could see Fenrys smirk from the corner of her eyes, she cleared her throat before looking back to the Young King. His expression wary.

"Alexi and Vera are part of the seventeen Pride members, Yes." There was a breathy gasp on her other side, Fenrys clearly tried to hide it but she had already heard the surprise it implored, She had never openly admitted to the exact number of members there was within the ranks of The Pride. There was once more then seventeen, but the ages had made her learn the difficult lessons.

"That many?" Dorian's voice jumped up a notch, with shock, His eyes had widened within their sockets, Brielle couldn't help the spark of excitement his expression shot through her, No one in this damn world knew exactly what Creatures lurked around every corner, nor how many of them answered to her, through nothing other then loyalty.

"Does Maeve know that you are the one in control of them?"

Aelin's voice was soft, too soft for the reputation she wielded, almost as wild as her own. Brielle watched as the queen stalked across the deck towards where they stood, her toned body eating the distance with ease. Her strides causing the swish of her hip to pronounce itself.

"She knows of my Spy court, She gave it to me. But no, I do not believe she suspects of my leadership within the Pride."

Aelin stepped up beside her, Dorian moving to stop the squeeze. Brielle noticed how Aelin watched Alexi and Vera with a tilted head; fascination.

"Are they mostly Fae?" Aelin watched the sparring for a second longer before she finally turned back around, "The Pride" she confirmed,  Brielle straightened at the question, it felt odd to be openly disclosing information about her most trusted members, The Lioness's Pride.

She hadn't entirely decided whether she was going to answer, but the words were already leaving her lips, 

"Many believes so. Most of them are, some have been serving me long before either of you were born" she tilted to Dorian and Aelin's direction, both watched her with expressions of thought. Taking in every word she was giving them,  so trusting already. She could have laughed.

"There are few amongst us that are not Fae, It's beneficial to have people from all corners of the world"

"How many were there when Terrasen fell?" Aelin's question struck something in her heart, her body flushed and her head light. 

A thumping began in her ears, like a pulse it hammered harder and harder. The air was tightening around her, there was a clash of iron from where the group continued to train. Her chest ached when her heart jackhammered inside, the body to her side moved into her view, only just enough for her to take notice of him once more, Fenrys placed a gently hand to her back, reminding her of his presence. 

She wanted to scream at everyone to leave them alone, if only so she could curl up to his side and be safe once more, but the waves rocked them, she fell into his lightly but the jostle broke the pulsing.

"Only six of them are still alive today" six of her closest friends, she hadn't seen many of them in years but if she called, they would  come, no questions. Isaiah, Theron and Vera being the only ones she had seen recently.

No on spoke, as though taking a moment to respect the fallen spies. She had more the day the Kingdom fell, but many were lost.

"Did you profit from it?"

 There was a tone of anger in the queen's words, a tone that tore something inside her. A voice screaming in her head, how she could ever insist that profit could be made like that.

"Did we get profit off those who had no home, had lost family and were at the risk of being run down by soldiers? No. We took them, as many as we could into the shadows we called home and got them out as quickly as we could and have been doing so ever since."

"Nothing, ever? You didn't make them buy their freedom" Aelin had turned towards her now, the flame inside her burning bright, She hadn't been there, she had been a child, This girl had no right to the accusations she was sprouting.

"If you call a lifetime of constantly sneaking around, risking my life all the while worrying for everyone around me and taking every death under my care to heart as though they were personal lashes at me then yes I profited. If so you have a fucked up definition of the word profit"

Fenrys grabbed for her arm, pulling her back slightly, Dorian who looked way too uncomfortable pushed his way between them, 

"No one is discrediting what you did to help those people" he faced her, dark hair falling down over his brow, 

"Ten years, I got those people out, as many as I could take, carrying some of the kids on my back, dragging those too weak to walk, but not once did I falter in trying. At least I did that, what did you do, oh Great Aelin Galathynius? "

Brielle knew she had said the wrong thing once the word were in the air, but she felt like ripping out Aelin's tongue for her words and the young Queen looked about ready to do the same for hers.

"You dare speak to her like that?!" the voice of her nephew flew through the air, Brielle didn't even give him the chance at another word, drawing a sword from her belt, she raised it enough to lay it at his throat, he halted in his approach.

"Shut it, Pup, I ain't gonna take it from you right now"

The others finally turned to them, Alexi and Vera were panting for breath, both looking on with expression's of confusion. Gavriel and Rowan on the other hand, didn't looked nearly as shocked, but rather concerned as though they had heard every word spat between the two females.

"You two need to cool off" Rowan folded his arms, his body relaxed as though he didn't care for the argument he had just walked into the middle of.

He wander closer slowly, edging for Dorian to move aside, 

"Rowan I don't think—" Fenrys tried to reason from beside her, but Rowan fired him a quick look, it only took a second before Fenrys crumbled, sighing, 

Rowan got in front of Aelin, he began to run his hand along every edge of her body, then the weapons began to drop to the deck, Brielle frowned before she felt hands at her waist, Fenrys spun her around till she faced him, she tried to scowl at first but he didn't make eye contact with her, instead he too followed Rowan's lead, hands moving to loosen ever weapon Brielle had strapped to her body.

The coldness of the gaps the weapons left on her body made an itch build in her hands, she couldn't help but hate the vulnerability that shot through her.

But still Fenrys continued to pluck off every one of her weapons, his fingers dipping in to unstrap the knifes tucked under her breasts, 

Brielle tried not to think about the touches that lingered, even with his head titled down to avoid her gaze she could see Fenrys' smirk, her nipples hardened beneath her cotton shirt when he left a hand there to ease himself down onto one knee, 

His hands finally moving down to pull the pinpoint blades off her thigh, the whole world could've fallen away in those seconds when he eased down onto his other leg, fully kneeling to her now, his hands moving further down to loosen the concealed daggers near her ankles.

Something; a pulsing tightened in her stomach, the breath swelling in her throat. In fact she didn't think she was breathing at all. 

From his position at her feet, Fenrys looked up, still smirking as he run a hand up along the inside of her thigh, Brielle inhaled sharply through her nose, he didn't look away this time, then he slipped the knife hidden there into his hand and stood. He was still a head taller then her and still smirking when she craned her head back to keep the eye contact.

"Good luck, Sweetheart"

Her head was a mess of mushy goop, she could hardly remember the reason he was taking the weapons from her in the first place.

His hands braced themselves against her waist, turning her around to face Aelin once more, He knew exactly what he had been doing, If there wasn't other people present on the main deck Brielle would have resorted to other means to blow off some steam. Judging by the heated look Fenrys was watching her with, she knew he would have been more then happy to oblige her.

Damn Fae male. She needed to focus, but she could smell him, Which was distraction enough, but shaking her head she moved over to where Rowan and Gavriel had previously been training with her spies.

"Oh this is just what we need," her nephew snarked from the sidelines of where they had positioned themselves, Aelin watched her cousin, Brielle looked across to see Alexi and Vera glowering across to the young Northern Commander.

"Clearly you don't know proper entertainment if it slapped you across the face" there was a hint of under toned anger to Vera's words, but she smiled to the shifter when Lysandra lulled her head back to laugh. It lightened the tension threatening to crack above them all on the deck, But Brielle turned around, facing the Heir of Fire once again.

The younger Fae female began to circle her, Brielle mirrored her movements, They had both been trained by Rowan, but she had years of experience against Aelin. Brielle couldn't deny there was a spark of excitement in her chest, that quickly replaced the growing desire Fenrys had stirred awake within her.

"Believe it or not, your not the first immortal female I've fought" Aelin, seemed to use words as a means of distraction, covering her intentions with conversation.

"Are you referring to Yellowlegs or Blackbeak?"

Aelin froze for a fraction of a second, a window for Brielle to move, striking forward her threw a fist for Aelin's face, she blocked with her forearm, 

There was a squeak of surprise from the crowd forming around them, the ships' crew gathering to watch the fighting.

Aelin wrapped a hand around Brielle's forearm, below her elbow. Twisting it around so it was behind her back at an awkward, rather painful angle Brielle had to grit her teeth to stop from growling out in pain, Aelin gave a hard shove, Brielle catching herself on the deck.

She caught Rowan shifting nervously on his feet a few paces from them, Brielle slowly rose, taking her time to see if Aelin would strike while her back was turned.

"How do you know about that?" She turned to face the other female.

When Brielle laughed, Aelin swung for her, dodging downwards Brielle jabbed a fist into Aelin's unprotected side, she sucked in a breath but as Brielle rose back up Aelin landed a sharp punch to her jaw, the tang of blood bloomed in her mouth. 

"How  do  you  know?" Aelin asked again, voice calm, despite the fire in her eyes. There she was.

The girl Rowan had rebelled for. The Assassin so many people feared the mere name of. The girl who had outwitted Maeve in the last year. The Queen who was going to save them all. The Queen Brielle would die to follow. The Queen who was Promised.

"The same reason I now track Lord Westfall"

Dorian took a step closer before Gavriel grabbed him by the elbow, the king ripped his arm from her brothers grip, moving into her line of sight.

"You hurt him?" there was a lethal threat in the young King's words, one which was accompanied with the coil of his magic.

Carefully she let her power seep from her, Dorian stiffened then Aelin followed. Brielle wiped at the blood that now trickled down her chin like water, reaching into her pocket she felt for the metal there, glad Fenrys hadn't pulled it from her seamless pocket.

She scanned the brass pin quickly before tossing it towards the king, releasing him from her hold he caught the object with both hands.

He took a second to examine it before an expression of realisation flickered onto his features. He made a move towards he, but she snapped the leash back into place. Pinning him with a stare.

"No harm will come to him. If anything he will be safer this way." Once she had addressed the king, the Lioness turned to Aelin, she took two steps closer.

Releasing both Royals from her hold, Brielle was glad when neither moved on their own, 

"The only thing I gained from those ten years since your kingdom fell." she paused, watching as a flicker of emotion wept into Aelin's eyes, "Was a family."

Brielle cast her eyes back around to Alexi and Vera, then to Fenrys and Gavriel. When she turned back to face Aelin once more, she could recognise the look the queen was now analysing her with, an understanding only people like them could comprehend.

"But if you ever insinuate that I did what I did for profit again, then I don't care who you are, or who will come after me. I will kill you, I've killed men for less before, don't make the mistakes they made, Aelin Galathynius" 

The space between them, sharing breath, was stricken with such tension, but atlas Aelin tilted her head, lowering her gaze in submission to the Lioness.

Just when Brielle went to open her mouth, there was a yell form a crew member that quickly turned into an uproar of voices that curled around them, Aelin's expression snapped back into place and she began to shoulder her way through the crowd, Brielle only paces behind her.

Men had began to scramble about, Fenrys appeared beside her and Brielle could notice the white hair of Rowan beside Aelin, Crew-men continued cursing as they raced along the deck, 

"What is that?" Vera was pushing her way towards them, when Alexi stopped, face going a stark stricken kind of white, 

"Oh for Gods sake, Not again"

Brielle could smell the anticipation rolling from her spies, as not to far in the distance, flying straight towards them was a Wyvern, the distinct white and red of a certain well known Iron-Teeth Witch astride its back.

The ship deck blurred into a panic, men ran, and screamed as they did, turning the decking in a untrained warzone, untamed by even the yells of Gavriel and his son, both who were too similar to not try to command the raging chaos stirring to life around them.

Fenrys gave Brielle's hand a quick squeeze before he took off, she was quick to haste at his heels. Once he realised she was following, he held out a hand. Keeping her close as he weaved through the panic.

Fenrys only dropped her had when he reached for a bow, passing one to her, he grabbed one for himself and led her up onto the top landing of the ship.

They wordlessly worked around one another, The aerial beast let loose a roar that shook the blood within her veins, Fenrys held out an arrow for her, taking it Brielle notched the arrow and drew up the string to her cheek, Her mate exchanged a quick look with her, Their play was simple. He would aim for the rider, and she the beast.

There was rapid footsteps behind them, and yelling from the Captains on the ship, there was a swell of root cold magic behind them and the noise of a sword being drawn just as Aelin's voice boomed across the whole ship, an echoed so loud it could only have come from a Queen.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

Brielle lowered the aim, before she drew out the arrow, but Fenrys still beside her kept his anchor point exactly where it was, knuckles still at his face.

The Wyvern soared above them all, it banked against the wind, rolling around the ships side in a mighty arch, close enough for Brielle to spy the magnificent muscles that stretched to keep the gigantic beast in the air.

The rider on its back was floppy, her body limp as she slide off the saddle and barreled straight for the frigid water below. Brielle didn't give way for shock, didn't get the chance as Dorian pushed through between her and Fenrys, there was a clang from Damaris as it clattered from the Kings hand, seconds before he dove straight over the railing.

Brielle shot forward, discarding her longbow to the deck beside Damaris. Grabbing onto the wood she leaned over to watch Dorian as he swam for where the Witch lay lifeless in the water, the shredded red cloak that clung to her like a pool of blood on the surface of the water.

Crew members ran to the railing, from all direction, hanging over the side to get a look at the King as he swam back towards the boat with the Blackbeak heir slung under an arm while he swam.

There was a shadow below them in the water, a sea dragon slunk down before she raised her body up, Lysandra must have jumped over the side to assist the King.

The minutes seem to speed up when Lysandra hauled the two up the side of the ship, a group already there to receive and help the King back aboard.

Brielle grabbed Fenrys and the both took off down the ladings to the others, they had pulled the Witch over the railing first, as Dorian leapt over a second after.

Her body was soaked in ocean water and blood, the metallic scent poring into the air, Rowan and Gavriel began to work on the gashes across her stomach when Brielle got there.

She landed down between the two males, already helping Rowan to bind and halt the bleeding, 

"This was done on purpose" Gavriel whispered beside her, Brielle stopped moving long enough to look at what had caught her brothers eyes, he shot her a worried look before he plucked the iron shard from the wound on Manon's abdomen

"Is she going to live?" Dorian asked as he wrung out the water from his cloths.

"We need to move her, and start healing otherwise she will bleed out completely" Brielle's hands were covered in the Witches blood as she applied pressure to a secondary gash in her side, the blood was still warm as it seeped between her fingers.

There was nothing more to be said as Dorian shouldered his way through the crowd, he picked the Witch up with minimal effort, Brielle couldn't help but wonder when the King had such time to train.

There was yelling from Aelin as she commanded people to move aside, taking the Witch below deck, Gavriel and Rowan behind them.

Pushing up to stand once more, Brielle watched the crowd slowly disperse, despite the noises flowing up from below deck, a hand slide along her back.

"I do believe you were checking Dorian out, My love"

A smile graced her cheek, the type to hurt your cheeks when you held it for too long, a hand curled around her side, turning herself around Brielle pushed her face into his chest. Fenrys gave her a squeeze when he wrapped both arms around, pulling her impossibly closer to him.

"I wasn't" Brielle whispered, her voice muffled against his chest, she might have... observed but not. Okay maybe she might have, but she wasn't going to admit that.

"You know I wouldn't believe you even if I didn't think you were lying"

She laughed, a contrast action despite what had been happening minutes prior to their interaction. She still hadn't removed her face from his chest when she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, pulling away lightly Brielle met his stare.

"I love when you do that"

"Do what?"

"Laugh" Brielle could have mocked him then, but he continued before she had the chance.

"Like you actually laugh, it felt like I haven't heard it in years." She closed her eyes when he cupped her cheek, 

In truth, she wouldn't admit it, but she was clinging to him right now. She was physically clinging to him, but it as more then that. Some instinct was screaming at her to not let go, call it a survival instinct perhaps.

 Brielle couldn't tell whether he knew or not, but he didn't let go of her either. She was drowning and he was the lifeline, for all her planning and preparations, this may all go tits up and there were things Brielle wasn't willing to risk or lose. 

This male in front of her, was one of them. Maeve had taken so much from her, this task she had been given, she couldn't complete it, and it would cost her everything. The world  quietened  around them and Aelin emerges with Rowan and Gavriel, and Brielle knew.

Somewhere in her heart she knew what she was going to do and no one knew a damn thing about it. That thought should have torn something inside her, but instead she gave a small laugh, and when Fenrys smiled down at her once more, resting his forehead to hers. She didn't worry for what it was going to cost her, for she was doing it for them. 

All of them. So cling to him she did, for it may be one of the few chances she has left. 

. . .

Taglist: @dreamiezpsycho@lunaralaraspace@mis-lil-red@mali22@the-fae-are-taking-over

Next Part

[poswiecenia]

( ✹ ☽ ) ❝ I WAS WORRIED. worried that, after orin's meddling that you'd not BELIEVE IT ME if you saw me . . like this. ❞ pupilless eyes full of milky white look up at him, having been healed to a minimum amount by shadowheart earlier. all this due to AN ENEMY'S MOONBEAM. how stupid.

@bhaalswn gets this bye

[peotego]

request guidelines

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hello, love, before you request a fic please read this

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I am not opening nor closing the requests, if you want to send me one, feel free to do that. however, I have a lot of things I have to handle in my private life so I will probably write it within a week - just so you are aware! If the date shall be longer than a week, I will answer your request with the possible date of publishing it.

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If I post your request, please like and maybe leave a comment or reblog. It would be nice to know if you liked the story. 

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Please write the character's full name in order to avoid the confusion. Here is the list of characters I write for:

Marvel: [Steve Rogers | Bucky Barnes | Tony Stark | Peter Parker | Thor | Loki | Peter Quill]

The 100: [Bellamy Blake | Jasper Jordan | Monty Green | John Murphy]

Harry Potter (Golden Trio Era): [Harry Potter | Ron Weasley | Charlie Weasley | Bill Weasley | Fred Weasley | George Weasley | Neville Longbottom | Draco Malfoy]

Harry Potter (Marauders Era): [James Potter | Sirius Black | Remus Lupin]

Teen Wolf: [Scott McCall | Stiles Stilinski | Derek Hale | Isaac Lahey | Jackson Whittemore]

5 Seconds of Summer: [Luke Hemmings | Michael Clifford | Calum Hood | Ashton Irwin]

ACOTAR: [Azriel | Rhysand | Lucien Vanserra | Cassian | Eris Vanserra]

BBC Merlin: [Arthur Pendragon]

The Maze Runner: [Newt | Thomas | Mihno]

Throne of Glass: [Dorian Havilliard | Rowan Whitethorn | Lorcan Salvaterre | Fenrys Moonbeam]

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I usually write for female reader characters

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I do NOT write: smut, sexual assault, sexual abuse, suicide, self-harm, eating disorders, nonconsensual sex.

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Things I enjoy writing: enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, miscommunication trope, one bed trope, grumpy x sunshine