#Crying on Beltane

[sleepinginmygrave]

Hello!!! I am so greatly in love with your blog and everything that you post and reblog. It's literally gorgeous, and i noticed that you celebrate Beltane? Are you Pagan or do witchcraft? There's nothing wrong with that obviously, I'm just really curious ‼️‼️ anyway keep slaying and being yourself, stay positive! 🎀🎀🎀

anon you're literally so nice i'm in love with you😭😭

and yes i do celebrate sabbaths!! i'm not pagan (i totally respect them and think the'yre really cool tho) but i do practice witchcraft!! i'm actually christian lol

[oh-okay-kay]

nothing against tumblr witches but dear god do proper research about irish holidays

[sweet-s0rr0w]

day 26 of @hprecfest - a fic under 5k

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex - E, 4.8k, 2017

Summary: As the war drags on, Draco becomes a spy for Voldemort and works his way into Harry’s good graces—and his bed. When the Order prepares to invade Malfoy Manor, Draco is forced to examine his loyalties.

Excerpt: Draco wonders if the Order knows that killing Voldemort would only be the beginning.

Harry’s hand is on Draco’s thigh under the table, and his fingers are creeping higher and higher as he talks, arguing again for a direct invasion, practically screaming for action.

He’s still, at heart, convinced that he will win. That he has to win. That good will triumph over evil, et cetera, et cetera. It’s incredibly naïve, but Draco doesn’t blame Harry for it. The alternative is to lie down and die.

“We could mount the invasion,” Harry says, and his hand drifts higher still. He loves to do this, to fondle Draco into insanity while they sit at the table, then dismiss the meeting and pull Draco down onto his lap, impale him on his cock and tell him to fuck himself blind on it. “With Draco’s information, we could take the Manor. Slip through the wards, maybe go unnoticed until we’re right on them.”

The Order is muttering to itself, and about half look to be on-board. Molly Weasley is wringing her hands, but Shacklebolt looks absolutely hungry for blood. Granger’s eyes are ice cold, and Draco wouldn’t want to meet them over wands. Harry may actually have them, finally. May have convinced them a suicide mission is the way to go. He can’t believe Harry is really doing this. He thought it was still a pipedream, even this morning.

Harry clears his throat to be heard over the din, and everyone falls silent. “I will leave it up to a vote. But please, consider it. With Draco in the Order, the Manor can fall."

Draco’s balls are cupped in Harry’s hand when he finishes speaking.

Secretsalex is such a fantastic writer, and this fic feels so much longer than 5k. Draco's panic, his isolation, the feeling of time running out - all of it's so palpable between the desperate journal entries and the short scenes with Harry. Which side will he end up on? We don't know, we suspect he doesn't know. We do know what Harry would do to a traitor; he tells Draco as much, in bed. I love how physical they are with each other - not in a romantic way, but through a sort of overwhelming need for something tangible in such an uncertain world. Great fic, great author, big rec!

If you read it, and especially if you love it, please do let me know! And as always, please do take the time to leave the author a kudos/comment <3

day 1 - first fic you remember reading

day 2 - a fic rated G

day 3 - a fic not on ao3

day 4 - a comfort fic

day 5 - a romantic fic

day 6 - a fic for a ship you don’t normally read

day 7 - the best of your OTP

day 8 - a fic that was recced to you

day 9 - a WIP

day 10 - a fest/event fic

day 11 - an underrated fic

day 12 - a fic from your favourite author

day 13 - a rare pair

day 14 - a fic rated T

day 15 - a fic over 50k

day 16 - a podfic

day 17 - a fic that makes you cry

day 18 - a fic that makes you laugh

day 19 - fanart

day 20 - a fic with fanart

day 21 - a fic rated M

day 22 - a series

day 23 - a crossover or AU fic

day 24 - holiday (vacation)

day 25 - holiday (national holiday)

day 27 - a smokin' hot fic

day 28 - a fic over 100k

day 29 - a fic rated E

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (14)

S for Saille (willow) - April 15th - May 12th

April 23 Saint George's Day 

May 1st Beltane (Gaelic May Day festival)

“Magical and witchcraft tree - Fifth month of the Celtic tree calendar (Ref)”

colour: silver; Gem: moonstone; Gender: female; Patrons: Persephone, Hekate, Ereshkigal, Artemis, Selene, Diana, Luna, Athena, Ceridwen, Orpheus, Baal, Yahweh; Symbols: dream + intuition, prophecy + divination, healing + magic, love

For the ancient Celts, the willow was a magical and mystical tree, as well as a feminine tree subject to the lunar rule, and was also thought to work subconsciously. The Celts believed that being near willow trees increased their spiritual powers and intuition, and as a result, the dreams they had were more realistic and detailed.

The wands used by the druids to ward off evil were made from the branches of the goat willow. The silvery hairs of the catkins hanging from this young male willow may have appeared to the ancients as if they were seeing magic as they were pollinated and transformed into a golden colour. The way the flowers spiralled open must have been astonishing. The source of art and creativity is still to be found in willow, and the thin, strong drawing charcoal used by artists is made from willow.

Willow has long been used in mourning rituals. Planting willow trees in cemeteries facilitated the passage of the souls of the dead, and the ancient Celts believed that the souls of the dead would enter and grow in young willow trees, and that the spirits would dwell in the trees intact.

The willow, which has a deep bond with water, tells you to cry with honesty if you are sad. If you are happy, you should rejoice from your heart. The willow teaches you that sometimes you need to leave reason and sense behind and weep to your heart's content.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (14)

SはSaille (ﾔﾅｷﾞ) - 4月15日～5月12日

4月23日・聖ジョージの日

5月01日・ベルティネ祭

『魔法の木、妖術の木 〜 ケルトの木の暦（参照）の第5月』

色: 銀; 宝石: 月長石; 性: 女性; 守護神: ぺルセポネ、ヘカテ、エレシュキガル、アルテミス��セレネ、ディアナ、ルナ、アテナ、ゲリドウェン、オルフェウス、バアル、ヤハウェ; シンボル: 夢＋直感、予言＋占い、癒し＋魔法、愛

古代ケルト人にとってヤナギは魔法や神秘の木であるとともに、月の支配を受ける女性の木でもあり、また、意識下に働きかけるとも考えられていた。ヤナギのそばにいると霊力や直感が高まり、その結果、見る夢はよりリアルに、詳細なものになるとケルト人は信じていた。男女を問わず、詩人や、音楽家や、司祭たちがヤナギの林にこもって瞑想をすれば、霊感が高まり、雑念から開放されると考えていた。こうしてケルト人は、聖なる林にこもって内なる世界に向き合い、木の頂から霊感を得ていた。

ドルイドたちが、魔除けに使っていた杖は、ヤマネコヤナギ (ﾊﾞｯｺﾔﾅｷﾞ) の枝からつくられた。この若い雄木に垂れ下がった尾状花序の銀色にひかる和毛が、受粉して黄金色に変身していく様は、古代人には魔法��見ているように見えたのかもしれない。螺旋模様を描きながら花が開いていく様子にも、驚かされたことだろう。ヤナギに芸術や創造性の源を見て取ることは今も変わらず、芸術家が使う細くて丈夫なデッサン用の炭はヤナギからつくられている。

ヤナギは昔から弔いの儀式にもよく使われる。墓地にヤナギを植えると死者の魂が通りやすくなると言い、古代ケルト人は、死者の魂は若いヤナギの木に入り、育っていくと信じ、霊がそのまま木に宿ると信じていた。

水と深い絆で結ばれているヤナギは、悲しいことがあれば素直に泣きなさい、嬉しいことがあれば、心から喜びなさいという。時には理性も分別もを捨てて、心ゆくまで泣くことも必要だと、ヤナギは教えてくれる。

[angelasscribbles]

Behind Closed Doors Chapter 1: The Invitation

 Series: Behind Closed Doors

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Max, Liam x Max (he hopes)

Word Count: 916

Rating: R for mature themes

Warnings for this chapter: sex is alluded to

A/N: I teased this one a long while back. Finally had some inspiration for it, so here's the first chapter!

A/N2: This story explores a bit of relationship anarchy. Here's a link if you want to learn more.

Series Premise: Six people come together in a kaleidoscope of shifting boundaries.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “Wait…you want me to go to the palace with you?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “I need a wingman, Riley, and you’re really good at it!”

“But—”

Max took in her hesitation and a startling thought occurred to him. “Oh! Is this awkward because we…because of…”

“Oh, good god, no!” Riley threw her head back and laughed. It was a full-throated belly laugh. Her hand landed on his bicep as she leaned forward to catch her breath. “I love you, Max. Truly, deeply, madly, but as friends! You know that!”

“I know.” His fingers scratched at the freshly shorn hairline along the back of his neck as a flush raced across his face. “I just wanted to be sure…after what happened last month…”

Riley stepped closer and traced a finger across his lips. “I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He shivered as her touch sent a sliver of desire sparking through him and, without much conscious thought, his arm shot out to pull her in even closer. “Does that mean we can do it again sometime?”

She laughed again as she gazed up into the cobalt-blue eyes that were as familiar to her as her own emerald-green orbs. Max had been her best friend since they met in a ridiculously overpriced private kindergarten.

Neville Van Couer, big for his age and just as disagreeable then as he was now, had yanked Max’s stuffed octopus from his arms and was holding it above his head, taunting him with it.

“Please give back Sir Inks a Lot.” Max’s trembling voice betrayed his fierce determination not to cry. “My mom gave him to me.”

“Oh, are you going to cry, little crybaby? It’s just a stupid toy. I tell you what—”

“Give it back.” A firm, uncompromising voice cut in.

Neville spun to find the interloper. His malicious grin widened when his eyes fell on the slight girl with the wispy brown hair. “And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”

Without warning or preamble, the girl moved. She darted forward so quickly that Neville had no time to process what was happening. A sharp blow to his stomach sent him pitching forward, grabbing his midsection as the toy was ripped from his grasp.

“Here.” The girl thrust the plushie out to Max.

He wiped the moisture from his tear-streaked cheeks with one hand as he reached out for his beloved Sir Inks a Lot with the other. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a bright smile that washed all of his sadness away. “My name’s Riley. Want to play with me?”

“We can do it anytime you want.” She assured him. “It’s not like we’re not good at.”

Max smiled at the reference to their romantic and sexual past.

They had lost their virginity to each other in high school and spent six months exploring everything the other had to offer. Then Max had confessed to being bisexual and wanting to explore with other people. Primarily men. His relief when Riley had agreed to break up romantically but remain friends had been overwhelming. She was and remained the closest friend he had.

A month ago, they had gotten drunk and fallen into bed together. It had felt good, comfortable, and familiar. He loved her.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t in love with Liam and that’s why he needed her support at the upcoming Beltane Ball that the palace held every year.

His arms tightened around her. “So to be clear, you know I love you and you’re okay helping me try to get Liam’s attention?”

Her grin widened until her cheeks hurt. “Boy, yes. Did we or did we not discover relationship anarchy at the same time?”

Giddiness crashed through his chest. The idea that you could love people but still remain autonomous was brilliant enough. Add in the deconstruction of things like relationship hierarchy and mono-normativity and, well, it had been paradigm-shifting.

“Okay,” he nodded as relief washed over him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Riley!”

“I know.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips.

He melted against her for a moment, then drew back. Because he had to know for sure everything was okay between them. “Then why the hesitancy when I asked you to go to the ball with me?”

“Because I’ve never been to the palace, silly!” Her family was insanely wealthy, but not noble.

“Oh, yeah!” Max tended to forget the difference in their social status. Mainly because it didn’t matter to him. People were people and titles like Duke and Count meant nothing when it came to what kind of person someone was. After all, Neville was noble.

“Oh, yeah! I mean…what do I even wear? Do I need to know how to curtsy? What if—”

Max cut her off by jerking her back into his embrace. “Don’t worry, padawan. We have two weeks. I’ll teach you everything you need to know!”    

“Great!” Riley bounced on her toes, excitement swirling through her midsection.

The palace! What an exciting adventure!

She threw her arms around him. “We could make a week of it! Go into the city. Shopping, dining, museums, the theater….”

He dipped his head toward her, his lips bare inches from hers. “Can we share a room?”

“Oh, we’re going to share a lot more than a room!” she assured him just before their lips crashed together.

[martiwikiwi]

MARTIWIKIWI'S MACRO POST OF HER QUEER COMICS

I've been wanting to do this for a long time so not even sorry.

[2024] DEMON HUNTER HAGAN

Dark fantasy. Hagan knows the Church of Twilight has never been a safe space for him but after so many years serving faithfully the church, how is he supposed to escape from his past and start anew? All he knows is killing demons. Queer stuff: Hagan is sex-repulsed biromantic asexual and will talk about asexuality now and then. Chorus is his aromantic hetero bestie and there are two more queer characters to join the party yet. Free on Comicfury. On hiatus until 12th June.

[2023] QUEER DETECTIVES

Comedy. Short comic about a group of queer friends trying to solve the mystery of the missing queer books in the public library. Queer stuff: Selwyn is your monster fucker bisexual. Moon, also bi, asked him out like 5 times and got rejected every time. They are now besties. Beltane is super gay for Moon. Available on my Ko-fi in digital.

[2022] FOUND FAMILY

Fantasy slice of life. A compilation of four short comics about prince Fireopal and their queer family. Queer stuff: Everything. Look at them. Their mere existence is a threat to the system. Available on my Ko-fi in digital and printed.

[2021] ELLIS

Urban fantasy. A queerplatonic romance between a demisexual non-binary werewolf and a bisexual human who find themselves in an awkward situation when they both have a crush on the same unknown student. Queer stuff: Demi enby will think very hard of how is the romance they want only to conclude amatonormativity sucks so they'll make their own rules. In the meanwhile, bi boy will cry and paint a horrible oil painting of some flowers before becoming the best friend ever. Currently saving money for printing. You can read it for free on Comicfury.

Older stuff under the cut!

[2020] SLOW TENDER SAMHAIN STORY

Fantasy. A boy's love story of three lonely souls looking for a family. Queer stuff: One prince gay, his lil bi bro and his future bi husband. Available on my Ko-fi in digital and printed.

[2019] FIGHTING NIGHTMARES AND FEARS

Dark fantasy. A young cleric is devoted to fighting the system of a world ruled by violence and fear. There will be a lot of menstrual blood. Queer stuff: This is the most aromantic stuff you'll ever read because the main character couldn't care less about that shit. Also, both other characters are bisexual af. Free on Comicfury.

[2019] GREY SAMHAIN LOVE STORY

Fantasy. A story of a silly sorcerer and a sad cleric made during a certain drawing challenge that took place in October 2019. Queer stuff: The silly sorcerer is very bisexual and the sad cleric super gay. They'll go friends to enemies to lovers. Available on my Ko-fi in digital.

[2018] WINTER NIGHT

Dark fantasy. A story of a very unlucky child who tries his best to repair his own mistakes, but it means he will have to break the promise he made to his best friend. Queer stuff: This child is so trans they even transform into a werewolf. 70 pages free on Tumblr. Full comic on Ko-fi.

NOT ENOUGH? Well, here you have an archive with all the short comics I've been posting on Tumblr since 2015. You'll find from watercolour and ink tests to ideas I have for longer projects and short queer comics I made for pleasure but also rejected scripts from anthologies. Also fan comics and comics that did make it to anthologies.

Finally, all my comic work together in a post. Happy Pride!

[snowflakesnsundry]

The Embrace of a Stranger: Part 2

Word Count: 4,525

Summary:

There are rumors about the Beltane celebration in the Golden Palace. It’s said it’s an event where no one appears as they are-where people of all classes and ranks mingle without the burden of status-and where the air is filled with the smell of sweat and sex.

This is your first time in attendance, and Loki has sworn he would know you no matter who you looked like. You’re nervous, but you have to trust him- and hope the man who ends up burried deep inside you is the man you are hoping him to be.

Warnings:

This story contains highly graphic sexual content. It contains elements of mistaken identity, dub-con, public sex, free use, and just general debauchery.

Author’s Notes:

Took me a bit, but here is part two! Please heed the warnings!! If you’ve not read part one, the link is here below!

Part 1

A low growl set your every hair on end as Vidar pressed his lips to your ear. “What a good girl.” 

The surge of pleasure that was building in you turned to one of pure frustration the moment withdrew his hands- but a second later he spun you around, placed his hands underneath you, and lifted you up where you might wrap your legs around him. Arms holding tight around his neck, you closed your eyes and let your head fall against his shoulder. With ever step he took you could feel the fabric of his pants-pressed firmly against you by his eager cock- rub against your clit. You could feel the length of him press against your folds, promising the one thing you so desperately needed.

A broad hand cradled the back of your head as he went along. “This is your last chance to change your mind,” he murmured, “your last chance to not have me fuck you for all Asgard to see.” Again, you whimpered- holding tighter around his neck. “Wellthen,” you felt him come to a stop, the heel of your foot brushing against plush fabric. Your walls clenched around nothing at all. “I promised you a night to remember, and I am nothing if not a man of my word.” 

You let out a yelp of surprise as he leaned forward- clinging tighter to him in the fear your might fall- but his arm wrapped around your back, holding you tight until you lay upon the mattress beneath you. Vidar withdrew his arm, letting his fingertips meander down the curves of your sides. 

A sliver of your mind reverting to your control, you reached to cradle his head in your hands. He let out a grunt as you pulled him to you. Falling onto his elbows, his weight threatened to crush you- but it did not matter so long as his lips were pressed to yours. Though slow and uncertain at first, desire soon took over. With each kiss he devoured you-pulling the breath from your lungs, dragging your lip through his teeth- hips grinding as he pressed between your legs.

“Loki…” you whined, “Please… it aches…” 

Suddenly he went absolutely still. Frozen in place from the very moment you whispered his name. 

To your dismay, he withdrew- lifting up to his hands before staring down at you quizically. His eyes traced you up and down as something wicked began to burn behind them. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Loki shook his head as he slipped his hand towards your swollen cunt. “Nothing drastic,” he purred, “but I do believe you’ve called me by the wrong name.” 

It took you a second to register it- out loud you had called him Loki, when tonight…

Tonight he was Vidar. 

You swore beneath your breath. “I’m sorry, I completely-”

“Hush- its nothing to worry your pretty little head over…” you inhaled sharply as a finger slipped between your folds. “Focus on me for now, nothing else,” a second followed, both pressing tauntingly at your entrance “I promise, I will give you exactlywhat you need.” 

Pleasure-and the tiniest hint of pain-mingled as he thrust two fingers deep inside you. The cry that left your lips was obscene- your hips bucking to press the heel of his hand against your clit- but you kept enough presence of mind to do as he asked. Locking your eyes on his, you fell into an abyss. 

Dark with lust, those eyes never left your face-reveling in your moment of pleasure just as much as he would revel in the moments of frustration that followed. Tongue darting across his lips, he leaned forward so he might pepper featherlight kisses across your face-but refusing to press them to yours, refusing to kiss… no, consume you the way you so desperately needed him to. Worse still, his hand had latched itself firmly in place, but the long, broad fingers he had seated inside you would not move an inch. 

“Please… I need you…” your hips squirmed against his, begging him to move inside you. He attempted to stand upright but you would not let him, hooking your hands around the back of his neck so you might draw him close. “Please just…” 

Nines you were wet. You could feel it with every shift you made-certain that he would just listen, just work them inside you for a moment or two… But the moment you had grabbed for him you were met with a frown. Eyes narrowed, Vidar pulled fully upright-dragging you upright along with him. 

As his lips pressed to yours you moaned softly, pressing your eyes closed tight as you ground yourself against him. Pulling back for a breath, Vidar chuckled. “Open your eyes, girl.” 

Lashes fluttering, you obeyed- allowing your eyes to take him in. But he had leaned back from you- just enough that his features were not the only thing you could see. 

You gasped as your eyes focused on what lay behind your companion. Or more specifically, who. 

It felt like a hundred eyes- hundreds of eyes- were trained upon the both of you; some taking no more than a glance, while others slipped out from the current of passers by so they might linger and keep their eyes on you. As you locked eyes with one of your observers you realized he was the same one with whom you had locked eyes before. He had followed the both of you-from one platform to another- so transfixed by what was transpiring that he could not tear himself away. 

He wanted you. Wanted you enough to trail behind in the hopes he might get the chance to…

You clenched around the fingers inside you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, begging him to at least press himself against you-a pleading whimper the only thing you could manage to say. 

Vidar’s low voice rolled across your skin, “How many are there? How many are waiting in the hope they might get their chance inside you?” 

He began to withdraw his fingers, but before you could protest, they crashed hard inside you. A shockwave shot up your spine, and you watched as your pleasured cry made its mark on those who had trained their eyes on you. 

Who waited for you. 

“How many of them, do you think, will spend themselves inside you?” His words seemed to slither their way into your ear- his audible grin making you that much more excited. Softer yet he whispered; “More importantly, how much do you want them to?” 

Another thrust- another collision as his hand slapped against your pelvic bone; drawing another moan from your lips. The haze was washing back over your mind. Head beginning to spin, you rolled your hips-begging for him to do it again. To do more. “Oh,” he breathed, “what a ravenous little thing you are.” 

One hand reached to remove you from his neck, locking around one wrist before slipping those same fingers around the other. He held you tightly in one hand, smirking as you dangled back in his grasp. With each second he held you there, his fingers dug deeper into your skin-your own weight pulling hard enough to make them ache. 

“Love?” you whimpered, “it hurts…”

He acknowledged you with a low, disinterested hum. “I need you to promise me that you’ll be a good girl for me, hm?” With a whimper, you nodded-but it was seemingly not enough. He yanked at your wrists, shaking you with a jolt. “Say it, or I will let you writhe here alone.” His words were hissed through clenched teeth; and when your eyes widened in alarm he looked as if it had caught him off guard. 

Without warning, he yanked you upright-holding your gaze with a cold glare as he slowly-and pointedly- placed your hands in your lap. You didn’t dare move as his fingers gripped your jaw, locking your gaze to his own. “Come now, girl,” he hummed, “I need to know how desperately you want this.” Your lower back bent as he applied pressure there-drawing you toward the very edge where his hips rolled firmly against yours.

It was maddening to you-every additional second wasted as he edged you along. His implication had been clear when he placed your hands in your lap; you were to keep them there- you were to be obedient as he toyed with you, but with every additional second your mind was kept in its haze your ability to make reasonable judgements declined. Perhaps that was what drove you to pull his hand from your jaw and shove it between your legs. Perhaps that is what made you drag his fingers through it once more. “You felt me, did you not?” you hissed, “what more proof do you need?”  

One second he was staring at you-nostrils flared- and the next the tie that held your meager top in place had been undone, your breasts exposed to any watching eye. His hands gripped at your wrists once more, but this time he made sure you wouldn’t have the opportunity to disobey. At once the strips- firmly attatched to the band around your neck- encircled your wrists like golden cuffs. The bind was tight, but not tight enough to hurt- refusing to tighten any further even as you pulled at them in suprise. 

You regretted your swift yank at your bindings- painfully reminded that your hands were not only bound to one another, but also to your neck. You could feel the cool fabric as it hung between your exposed breasts, and you shivered as a broad hand locked about your waist. Vidar’s eyes burned into you-your simple act of disobedience drawing forth something you had never seen in him before; and you weren’t sure if it frightened, or excited you. 

“I wouldn’t try that again,” he purred, voice suddenly deathly calm, “only good girls get what they want.” A sharp snap of his hips drove them into yours, jolting the platform upon which you sat. His hand began to creep slowly up your side until he was able to dig his fingers into the soft skin of your breast. “So be a good girl, will you?” His face was close- so close you could feel his breath upon your lips, but you didn’t dare try and take his for your own. Heart pounding in your chest, you felt the blood rush to pool between your legs once more. You wanted it… needed it…

“Please…” 

The grip on your breast softened, but you could feel his nails drag across your skin as he moved toward your sternum, taking the tether between your neck and your hands firmly in his grip. The fabric slid through his palm as he moved it higher- creeping towards your neck before he pulled the strip taught. You were snapped forward, your face burried against his shoulder as he fisted his fingers in your hair. “Please what, whore?”

It was an electric sort of fear that came to you- one that pried at that unknown something deep inside. His actions were frightening, but…

The images in your head sent chills down your spine. Your body pressed into the mattress, his hand about your neck as he drove his cock into you so hard you could feel it strike deep, deep inside. It didn’t matter that it would cause you pain. You wanted…

A breathy moan slipped free and, as your need got the better of you, you made no effort to regulate the volume of your voice. “Please, please,” you begged “I can feel myself aching- I need something inside me; not just your fingers, something more.” Vidar’s satisfied growl was something you could feel rattling against your nerves. “I need your cock, I need to be fucked- I want you to ravage me where they can see-”

Your back slammed against the mattress as he shoved you down. It was a blessing the surface was so soft, or the spinning in your head would have been made far worse. The sound of his fingers working at the fabric of his waist- pulling himself free of the confines that left you wanting for so long…

All it took was the feeling of his shaft sliding across your folds to make you sing. He was so warm against you- his heat so overwhelming it made your walls clench, desperate to pull him in. As he bent over you, his teeth found purchase on your skin- sinking deep into the curve of your shoulder.

Even that made you moan.

Vidar’s grin was wicked. “Are you truly so desperate to have me inside you?” His voice was low-rough as gravel as his eager eyes flicked across your form. 

“Yes… please, I…” 

“Good Girl.” 

With a quick shove he was upright again, his shirt sliding over his head as he pulled himself free of it. A few more leasurely strokes of his shaft along your cunt had you writhing beneath his ravenous gaze. He taunted you- lifting himself so that his full length lay upon your stomach-hard and throbbing. Electricity shot through you as you realized just how far up into your torso it extended-far higher than you remembered. 

Had he been able to do this all along? Or was this a side effect of the potion?

If the damn shapeshifter had been holding out on you…

It escaped your notice that Vidar had turned his head to the crowd until he called out to them. 

“Shall I give her what she’s asked for, my friends?” 

The cheer that rose up just outside your vision was so much louder than you expected-there had to be so many of them waiting just there that…

Your desperate moan rose above the din as you tried to rock your hips against him-not a single word managing to form. 

Vidar licked his lips as he stared down at the needy woman who would so soon be wrapped around his cock. He drew a long, shuddering breath as he shook his head. “Just look at you…” he breathed, “it’s no wonder he likes you so much.” 

Your brain never got the chance to process those words, as only a heartbeat later the head of his cock was pressing against your entrance. Once more he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, spreading you torturously slow around his length. It wasn’t just longer than you remembered, but larger- the sharp sting of your streatching cunt already causing that pleasure inside you to coil. 

The feeling was intense- your body so elevated in its arousal that you almost tried to push yourself away from him in the fear you might cum too quickly-that this heightened pleasure wouldn’t last- but with your hands bound your reach wasn’t long enough, and his grip was far too strong to let you move an inch. 

Not as he pressed inch after torturous inch inside of you. 

Could he feel it too? Your blood was pulsing in your veigns- rippling behind the walls of your cunt as you clenched down hard around him. The muscles pulled, begging him to go deeper; the roll of your hips trying to drag him inside. 

“Not a very patient one, are you?” He teased, stopping when he was sheathed no more than halfway inside. Voice dropping to a whisper, he gripped you by the collar until your head lifted into the air. “I was going to work you over slowly-give you time to adjust before all of Asgard has its way with you,” every word you had ever known was gone, and all you could do was whine, “but I can see that isn’t what you want.”

Nines…

“So, good lady, I will adjust accordingly.” What a wicked voice… what wicked words… “I think I will ruin you before they even have a chance to set a single hand on you- doesn’t that sound nice?” 

He didn’t even wait for your reply. Letting go of your collar he dropped you onto your back- and in one swift move he hooked his fingers under the band at your hips -and with all of his strength- sheathed himself fully inside you. 

The sound you made could only be described as a scream- but it vanished beneath the cheers of the onlookers who urged you on. 

Slam

The mattress shifted beneath you.

Slam

It stung where his skin smacked against yours. 

Slam

Rhythmic, forceful strokes made you almost certain there would be bruising inside of you. 

Slam

Each thrust made your body shake.

His head hung above you- his hair tickling your stomach with every swing of his hips. Every muscle in his shoulders was drawn tight, and you could hear the clench of his jaw as he called back toward the crowd. 

“Don’t be…” Slam! “Shy my friends!” Slam. “come closer and see..” Slam “just how much…” Slam “…she can take!” 

SLAM.

Your cries all seemed to blend into one-the line between pain and pleasure blurring in your mind as even your vision seemed to waver. Your body screamed for more-the force of his hips striking against your clit with every stroke, sending waves of pleasure through you every time. 

By the time the first face appeared in your vision, the wall inside you was beginning to go numb. Every strike of his cock was followed by a long, slow drag through your fluttering cunt as he repositioned himself nearly at your entrance. You sang for him-and for them- back arching as you silently pleeded for him to fuck you faster.

One face became two-then three, four, five… The circle around you was tightening-curious parties dipping in and out of the wall of eyes that had trained themselves on you. The words they murmured to one another didn’t matter, since you didn’t hear a single one; but their eyes… their eyes… set your skin alight. 

Just as your eyes were hazy with lust, theirs reflected their hunger- their wanting- for you. Those who lingered seemed to watch down with wide eyes and still expressions; lust restrained, but only barely. As Vidar’s every thrust lay claim to you, they waited in the wings- like scavengers waiting for the lion to finish its meal. They would wait as he fucked you- as he sank his teeth and claws into your flesh- they would wait until your extacy faded the light behind your eyes; and when the predator was gone, they would stake their own claim. They would suck you dry. 

Sweat had begun to drip from Vidar’s forehead, plunging into you now with less force, but greater speed. The friction fueled the heat inside you, your hips rocking in time to pull you higher and higher. When your eyes would flutter closed, something would be done to snap them right back open. He would sink his teeth into your breast, drag his nails across your skin, or-every once and a while- strike his palm hard against your face. But as the pleasure within you built, it became harder and harder not to just scream as your eyes rolled back into your skull. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Vidar asked, words hissing through clenched teeth. It was clear he was holding back his own climax- withholding himself… denying you the warmpth and pleasure of feeling him drip out of you. The thought was enough to make you tighten around him. He sucked in a strained breath in reply, eyes flashing as you felt his hand lock around your throat. With a sly grin he grazed his thumb up and down along the veign you knew would be restricted any moment now. “Very much so it seems… I can feel your heartbeat in every inch of you…” A blissful smile spread across your face as you lifted your chin willingly, giving him easier access. 

Vidar’s fingers tightened. He wouldn’t restrict your airway, but you could already hear your own pulse in your ears as your heart tried harder to pump blood by. “Perfect…your so perfect wrapped around my cock…dont you think so?” He had lifted his gaze to the onlookers, seemingly having locked eyes with one. “Don’t you worry,” he grinned, “you’ll all know exactly how it feels before too long.” 

They would.

Every last one of them would have you-each having watched you, helpless and whimpering as you were impaled over, and over, and over… 

“Alright then, girl-” the fingers at your neck squeezed tighter, “it wouldn’t be polite to keep them waiting, would it?” Your whole head seemed lost in the pound of your heartbeat-dizzied by the lack of blood. Shaking your head, your mouth hung open-lungs gasping for air even though they had been denied none. 

The movement of his hips slowed down, rocking against you as he took advantage of your desperate, aching cunt. “I want you to cum with me,” he muttered, “I want to feel you cum on my cock-do you understand me?” You nodded eagerly as little sparks began to flicker in front of your eyes. 

“Good girl.” 

His thrusts began to build up speed. “I can see it in their eyes, can’t you?” Faster still, the sound of his skin slapping hard against yours was loud enough to be audible above the nose of the hall. “They want to know how you feel…how warm it is inside you…” He rut into you with such force you could feel it reverberate in your bones. It would ache for weeks-perhaps months- and every time you would sit from here on out, that twinge of pain would remind you…

You wanted so desperately to hold onto him- to wrap your arms around him and press your lips into his skin; you wanted to run your nails down his back and twist your fingers through his hair- and the fact that you could not left you with a frustration that only made you clench down harder on his cock. 

“What a treat you will… be by the time… they’re done.” Each word was forced out through clenched teeth. “Every time…they spend themselves… inside you… that heat will only grow…” 

Never had you cried out in such pleasure before- never had your whole body burned like this. Never had his words left your head spinning so wildly that the only thing to which you could ground yourself was the feeling of his cock hammering inside you. When he leaned to press his torso against your own, you were finally able to reach him-sinking your fingernails into his stomach. With a wild growl of pleasure his hand left your neck, fisting itself in your hair as his other arm slipped below your neck-cementing itself around your shoulders to hold you perfectly still; so still that you realized how much your body had been able to shift as his thrusts rocked you against the table. You realized how much that leeway had made a difference, and how much harder he struck inside you now that that leeway was gone. 

“Look at you,” he growled, “I wonder if you can think of anything else but my cock.” As he pulled hard at your hair, you could do little more than let it roll further and further back- pressing your chest harder against him. “I’m sure you haven’t thought further than this very second… do you wonder what happens when so many fill you with their cum, girl?” The hand in your hair released you, slipping between your bodies to push down hard against your stomach. The fullness you had felt before spiked as he did so- forcing you to only wrap tighter around him. “Will you hold it all inside you? Will that pretty little stomach swell-so full of cum that it hurts?” 

You could feel yourself rising higher and higher- every muscle beginning to clench as you writhed beneath him.

“Perhaps that swell will never go down,” he pressed his lips against your ear, each heavy breath sending waves of electricity through you. “Perhaps, with all that seed inside you, some of it might take.” The way he twitched inside you, you could tell he was close. Was it picturing you like that -swollen and heavy with a stranger’s child- something he desired? He hadn’t wanted children of his own but- if what held him back was his heritige- was watching you like that… seeing you bred by someone you would neverknow… was it something he… 

It wasn’t something you to expected thrill you the way it did. 

“Every eye in the palace…every step you took down the halls… a whore… unclaimed and yet…” Second by second his hips struck faster -harder- against your own as he chased his release. It had wound you so tightly you feared you wouldn’t be able to let go; that you wouldn’t be able to surrender to the pleasure assaulting your senses- but you needed to. Letting your eyes wander over the faces looking down at you-at the small crowd that waited for their chance to have you- you realized they would likely not pay mind to your pleasure; they would be far too busy chasing their own. 

And if you were stuck with your head spinning like this - with your whole body so desperate for release- until sunrise? 

You would lose your mind long before dawn.

The sweat from Vidar’s brow dampened your skin-the smell of him consuming you as you let your eyes flutter closed. You let yourself picture what was to come. The woman you had seen before, euphoric in her ruin, would be you before long; the same white that dripped from her abused cunt would drip from your own- and the man currently inside you would be there to watch as every last one of them had their turn. Lost in your thoughts, you could hear him groaning, panting as he pulled closer and closer to release. You could feel the tightening of his grip around your shoulders and in your hair just as vividly as you could feel the slam of his cock against your insides. Loki had never fucked you like this before- never fucked you so recklessly- never treated you as a toy.

But you realized now that something deep inside wanted him to. Wanted him to possess you body and soul-wanted him to desire you so deeply that-for once- he did not even try to hold back. 

And finally, in front of all of Asgard, he was nolonger holding back.

That was the thought that pushed you over the edge. You screamed out in pleasure as your whole body tightened-your orgasm ripping through you without restraint. Pulsing around him, you felt yourself trying to wriggle free as he maintained his pace- the overstimulation causing your heart and mind to race. Vidar’s grip only grew tighter still until you feared he may crush you. Beneath his breath he muttered things you could not quite understand- words that vanished beneath the sound of your pulse in your ears until at last you felt him grow abruptly still- the shuddering twitch of his hips followed shortly by the sensation of his cum pooling inside you. 

[strayheartless]

will the witch boyfriends ever get married? and become witch husband's?

Ahhh the age old question.

Angeal and Zack are the ones who have thought about marriage the most. The others are not really bothered by it. Gens never really seen the point in needing a hand fasting to prove he loves his partners and Sephiroth just doesn’t think about it past it being something that people do. Clouds probably the most against it but that’s because his mother was married and his father left when Cloud was very little. He thinks marriage is as fickle thing and a waste of time.

However Zack really really wants to be married to them. Angeals the easiest to win around. He suprises Zack with strawberry milk tea boba at work one day and Zack blurts “marry me” and Angeal very seriously says “okay”.

Convincing Sephiroth is the next easiest, Zack and Angeal talk about how it’s something they really want and Sephiroth says “if it’s something you want then okay, we can do it. We have the money,”.

Genesis takes some wearing down. Arguments of it being a waste of time upset Angeal and once Sephiroth points this out Genesis deflates and says “oh what harm could it do.”

Cloud is a pain in the ass about it. At one point Geal and Zack fear he will leave because of it. He is so disproportionately angry about it. It’s the first and only time he and Zack have a screaming match with each other. Not because they want to force him, but because he’s being unnecessarily cruel and rude about something they want.

He walks out and disappears for two weeks. Turns off his phone and goes to the burned out remains of his village. While he’s there he does a lot of frustrated crying because the thought of loosing them makes him feel sick. It’s while he’s stood looking at the old remains of his home that he realises that is the point.

His father obviously never felt like that. If he had he wouldn’t have left. He thinks that he didn’t want to be without them and if they wanted to be married then what is the difference between not wanting to loose them as boyfriends and not wanting to loose them as husbands. Either way he feels more for them than he’s sure his father ever did for his mother.

He comes home in the middle of the night and crawls into the middle of the puppy pile that is their sleeping arrangements. It wakes Zack up and cloud just presses their noses together and says “I-I’ll marry you” really vulnerably. Zack kisses him and whispers thank you because he knows that this is huge for Cloud.

Min terms of the wedding:

Summer, around Beltane.

Colour scheme is Beltane colours (green, red, white and silver)

There’s a may pole

They do a specific ancient hand fasting that is their family covens ceremony but also they do a more private Nibelhiem ritual in the lake at midnight.

Gillian officiates

The have a Cèildh in a field and the baby witches of the larger coven make them flower crowns!

They all have one to one first dances. It would take too long to list each dance individually but if you really want to know I can answer it in a separate ask!

They get firefly’s in the evening and everyone is very suprised to see cloud and Genesis are the ones on their knees showing the wee baby witches how to handle ones that land on them.

Their honeymoon is a tiny quiet French village.

The do take a name. They hyphenate Strife-Crescent. It was decided because Rhapsodus, Hewley and Fair would all continue via cousins and siblings. Cloud and Sephiroth were the last of their name.

[postmodernpagan]

Demon holidays:

Imbolc Eve: Festival of Cheese. Curdling, acid cooking, denaturing proteins. Caseation, conglomeration, congealing. Spoiling, mold, and aging. A time to prepare and begin aging cheese. A time to fuck with Brighid? Something about the Morrigan being the dark side of Brigid. A time to spoil plans and predictions and disrupt carefully planned power structures.

Walpurgisnacht: Power trip night. Feel powerful by doing evil. Spoil crops, do a sadism-masochism. Ego-destroying sex, love through destruction and allowing you to rest and not think. Festival of Lilith. Trampling is key--trample on seeds, ruin seed stock, no more babies. Last night of the Wild Hunt before the Faerie take it over on Beltane.

(Fae and elves are Western European, and sheydim are from a particular area in the ancient Levant. The differences between them are largely cultural, however; they're mostly all environmentally generated land spirits originally, with the occasional dead human who adapted in and is slowly forgetting their previous life over the centuries. Djinn are similar, but are largely elemental beings of fire and air, given their desert environment and lack of consistent life energy to feed from.)

June 21st: meh, bleh, underground, dark and rainy, remembering trauma, hot and icky sweat. The rainy season. Festival of Persephone. We lament her leaving and hope she misses us, cry for her to come back where she's safe.

Lammas Eve: Festival of Beer. Fermentation, yeast, fungi, rot, mold and ergot. Festival of Bast the Drunken. Celebrates the work of women specifically because of association with brewing and the hearth and grain -- tea and bread is a good combination if beer is not an option. Why grain? It's a joke about processing seeds into something useful (babies, delicious carbohydrate food for yeast).

September 21st: The Clerical New Year. Sheydim adopted the ancient Hebrew practice of celebrating the New Year in the fall, but use the solar calendar instead of the lunar calendar for agricultural reasons. A time to clean house, get affairs in order, and set intentions for the coming year. Also time to start preparing for the Wild Hunt.

October 31st: SAMHAINOWEEN BABY! HARVEST PARTY HARVEST SOULS. First night of the Wild Hunt, although places like Detroit increasingly push the date back with early festivities, which is fine with the demons.

December 20th-25th: Odin's birthday. Yeah, five days in labor, he had a really big head. (Which is always cue for someone to shout, "Still does!") Feast of the Caught Game. Not the last day of the Wild Hunt, but the last day of the sport hunting; after this, hunting only out of necessity is encouraged, but only informally enforced (cops won't stop you, your neighbor will).

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

phoenix

it feels so foolish and somewhat indulgent

to experience so much grief at the loss

of a creature who didn't live up to her name

when she becomes ashes today

I know she won't rise from them

she helped me rise from mine

or at least made sure there was

something that survived from them

I don't think I've risen yet

not quite sure how to

when everything I loved

the life I thought I was building

fell completely apart

she was there with her avoidant affection

she was easily overwhelmed

when I held her close she kept her claws

very sharp and mostly leaving

bleeding scratches all over my chest

but when I held her close

she has this way of breathing

that sounded like singing

I liked to believe she sang only for me

I can't believe how much crying I've done

maybe grief opens you up in a way where

you can release all other losses

and burdens you are stumbling under

sometimes it feels like I'm not even

a character in my own life

or maybe I need to get a better handle

on my well practiced disassociation

I loved her ears and the way

they faced me when I spoke to her

like she wanted to catch all of my voice

I couldn't sing this morning

I thought of having to wrap her body

in the cheesecloth and dried lavender

I have some rosemary I'll add for remembrance

and smile because she hated rosemary

she'd go after mint like crazy

I told her all my secrets

and she didn't mind when I got tears

on the softest white and grey coat

you ever touched

she had these heart designs on her head

and what looked like fairy wings illustrated on her

she lived under my bed and would dart out

my family was terrified of her

she loved me and never stopped

probably still hasn't but it's not the same

I miss her so much

Poppy, her lover, won't come inside anymore

last year at this time I had eleven rabbits

now I have none

it kind of feels like I have nothing

when I really have so much to be grateful for

but today I'll let sorrow be my companion

as we celebrate the awakening of May

light the fires of Beltane

mourn the loss of a beloved

and continue on

with a broken heart

I miss you

and I will forever

[mist1e]

Tag Game

@alwachart makes me feel like I'm 13 again and I'm filling out a girls' questionnaire in 2000's.

But here goes.

Last Song: Kelsy Karter & The Heroines - Devil On My Shoulder

Working on a Haarlep playlist, this was the last one I added.

Currently Watching: took a break from the shows

They consumed too much of my time, and my life is fucked as is.

Three ships: Myself/Haarlep, Geralt/Yennifer, V / Judy.

He was silent. He didn’t like it when she fell into a mood like this, the origin of which he knew only too well. Once again, he thought, once again it’s beginning to torment her. There was a time when it seemed she had forgotten, that she had become reconciled to it like the others. He embraced her, hugged her, rocked her very gently like a child. She let him. It didn’t surprise him. He knew she needed it.

‘You know, Geralt,’ she suddenly said, now composed. ‘I miss your silence the most.’

He touched her hair and ear with his mouth. I desire you, Yen, he thought, I desire you, but you know that. You know that, don’t you, Yen?

‘Yes, I do,’ she whispered.

‘Yen…’

She sighed again.

‘Just today,’ she said, looking at him with eyes wide open. ‘Just this night, which will soon slip away. Let it be our Beltane. We shall part in the morning. Don’t expect any more; I cannot, I could not… Forgive me. If I have hurt you, kiss me and go away.’

‘If I kiss you I won’t go away.’

‘I was counting on that.’

She tilted her head. He touched her parted lips with his own. Tentatively. First the upper, then the lower. He entwined his fingers in her winding locks, touched her ear, her diamond earring, her neck. Yennefer, returning the kiss, clung to him, and her nimble fingers quickly and surely unfastened the buckles of his jacket. She fell back onto her cloak, spread out on the soft moss. He pressed his mouth to her breast and felt the nipple harden and press against the very fine stuff of her blouse. She was breathing shallowly.

‘Yen…’

‘Don’t say anything… Please…’

The touch of her naked, smooth, cool skin electrified his fingers and his palms. A shiver down his back being pricked by her finger-nails. From the bonfires screams, singing, a whistle; a far, distant cloud of sparks in purple smoke. Caresses and touches. He touching her. She touching him. A shiver. And impatience. The gliding skin of her slim thighs gripping his hips, drawing closed like a clasp.

Beltane!

Breathing, riven into gasps. Flashes beneath their eyelids, the scent of lilac and gooseberry. The May Queen and May King? A blasphemous mockery? Oblivion?

Beltane! May Day Eve!

A moan. Hers? His? Black curls on his eyes, on his mouth. Intertwined fingers, quivering hands. A cry. Hers? Black eyelashes. A moan. His?

Silence. All eternity in the silence.

Beltane… Fires all the way to the horizon…

‘Yen?’

‘Oh, Geralt…’

‘Yen… Are you weeping?’

‘No!’

‘Yen…’

‘I promised myself… I promised…’

‘Don’t say anything. There’s no need. Aren’t you cold?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘And now?’

‘Now I’m warmer.’

The sky grew lighter at an alarming rate, the contours of the black wall of trees becoming more prominent, the distinct, serrated line of the treetops emerging from the shapeless gloom. The blue foretoken of dawn creeping up from behind it spread along the horizon, extinguishing the lamps of the stars. It had grown cooler. He hugged her more tightly and covered her with his cloak.

‘Geralt?’

‘Mhm?’

‘It’ll soon be dawn.’

‘I know.’

‘Have I hurt you?’

‘A little.’

‘Will it begin again?’

‘It never ended.’

‘Please… You make me feel…’

‘Don’t say anything. Everything is all right.’

The smell of smoke creeping among the heather. The scent of lilac and gooseberry.

‘Geralt?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you remember when we met in the Owl Mountains? And that golden dragon… What was he called?’

‘Three Jackdaws. Yes, I do.’

‘He told us…’

‘I remember, Yen.’

She kissed him where the neck becomes the collarbone and then nuzzled her head in, tickling him with her hair.

‘We’re made for each other,’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps we’re destined for each other? But nothing will come of it. It’s a pity, but when dawn breaks, we shall part. It cannot be any other way. We have to part so as not to hurt one another. We two, destined for each other. Created for each other. Pity. The one or ones who created us for each other ought to have made more of an effort. Destiny alone is insufficient, it’s too little. Something more is needed. Forgive me. I had to tell you.’

‘I know.’

‘I knew it was senseless for us to make love.’

‘You’re wrong. It wasn’t. In spite of everything.’

‘Ride to Cintra, Geralt.’

‘What?’

‘Ride to Cintra. Ride there and this time don’t give up. Don’t do what you did then… When you were there…’

‘How did you know?’

‘I know everything about you. Have you forgotten? Ride to Cintra, go there as fast as you can. Fell times are approaching, Geralt. Very fell. You cannot be late…’

‘Yen…’

‘Please don’t say anything.’

It was cooler. Cooler and cooler. And lighter and lighter.

‘Don’t go yet. Let’s wait until the dawn…’

‘Yes, let’s.’

Favourite colour: Purple and green

Currently consuming: Immense amount of Haarlep content

He's my comfort creature.

First ship: I loved Chel and Tulio together.

Also, Disney animated film with sex? Hello?

Birth place: Russia, Ivanovo

Relationship status: unhappy together

Last movie: True Romance

Highly recommend, this is a fantastic picture that aged very well.

Currently working on: My Nere fic and a couple of more ideas for Astarion and Haarlep one-shots.

Tagging @seraphimaa @solidsilver @msrhaxoz

[capsensislagamoprh]

The free skate was far more simple than he thought it would be. His body bent and turned, leaped and pranced in ways it hadn't since he was in the Dream proper. When he pulled off a quad with a triple, he could feel himself grow feather light. A snow flake on the breeze, directed by his whim. Glamour flowed thrugh him, his material form radiating the glory of winter, the clear intensity of ice. Victor felt himself reforming. He felt the fulfillment of dreams, and he felt something distant calling. Yuri?

As his final pose lowered him into a swans grace, lifting him towards the heavens, stopping cold on a lifted wing, he reached into the dream. Yuri? Is that you? Where are you cousin? It's almost Beltane. It's almost time for you...

No response.

Standing in the kiss and cry was probably messing with his efforts to communicate. The closer the equinox came, the strong his ability to contact his missing relative should be. That thought sustained him as he looked at the scores, watched other skaters, tried to maintain his decorum. Madame Baranovskaya stood at his shoulder, taloned nails biting into his shoulder, helping him keep composed. He watched his friend slide along the ice in a perfect half split, then twizzle into a set up for a triple. His eyes caught the wobble, the smile thrugh the pain. For a moment he felt the shadows weigh down on the rink. Turning to Lilia he caught the tightening of her lips. She had felt that too. Suddenly he needed to talk to Christophe, the waiting a painful exercise in restraint. Finally the scores were in and he wasn't even phased. Rising he went with the rest for metal and praise, his blue eyes locking on his friends. Christophe resolutely ignored his attempts to suggest an aside. Mortal things would never wait. They had interviews to do, and he needed time to figure out what to say.

It took hours for the after party to begin, during which Christophe thought hard. What did he tell Victor, what to keep him at bay. It was a risky plan when it had begun, and now it was threatened. Something must have happened to Yuri. What, he didn't know. Yet as he watched his friend speak to sponsors and media, he could see something had changed. It wasn't the flow of glamour that radiated shimmering cool and glittering wonder. It was some sort of distant pull. A faint thread of magic that formed with every breath until it faded from fey sight. Tilting his head he moved closer to Victor, smiling.

"Comrade!" Victor called as Christophe came into view.

"Min vän," he returned with a cheerful glaze. "You were splendid tonight."

"Not so bad yourself, eh?"

"Thank you." Glancing at those gathered, Christophe smiled. "You are glowing."

"It must be the shock of it all," Victor winked. "It's hard to practice all the time, but the pay off! Oh the pay off!" Christophe chuckled, slowly working his way around the Russian, his eyes flicking quickly over the radiance winding itself into a taunt thread. A photographer popped into view asking a picture. Taking advantage, Christophe put his hand on Victor's back where the thread formed, drawing upon True Spring to understand its presence. As the camera clicked in rapid pace, power pooled into his hand. A faint gold glow turned pink, then shimmered into a faded into a distant red. If Christophe looked shocked or delighted in a few dozen images, he didn't see the problem. If he looked like a terrifying creature of haunted dreams and forbidden longing, well that was a trick of the light and the camera man's unsteady hands, wasn't it?

Left with Victor once again, he lowered his hand, beaming at his friend. Things were falling into place. They walked towards the buffet table, determined to destroy it with teenage appetites. Decimate was a better description. Fortunately the adults had the good since to leave the entire Juniors division to it, trusting the food to be healthy after a cursory inspection. And soon they were off to there rooms to rest before traveling home the next day.

Victor slipped into Christophe's room, listening to the hall with great interest. After a few minutes he smiled. "I think we're in the clear. Let's make plans."

"Bra. How much have you gathered?"

"I saw a shadow on the ice. This wasn't normal mortal things. I am confident I must be close."

"Interesting," Christophe said, sitting elegantly in the cheaply upholstered chair. "What did the shadow do? Was there any light, perhaps some fire with it?"

"Dose the fire in the blood count? I think it does. I felt... impassioned. Empowered. I felt the force of life flow thrugh me."

Christophe nodded, his head tilting. "That does cry balance. What did the shadow do?"

"I..." Victor hesitated. "I felt threatened? Warned, I think."

"Yes. That is the balance. But why warned? Were you in danger?"

"Not that I know of. I was in practice when it happened."

"Practice?! Victor Nikiforov! I was talking about today!" Greeted with a blank expression, Christophe sighed. "Didn't you feel it at all?" The expression remained. "Are you dross drunk?"

"How dare you! I haven't been Dross Drunk since I was a child!"

"You are a child Now, Victor! We both are! The Material realm took its toll out on our forms! We have the stamina and grace and power of children!" Christophe growled with exasperation. "Show me your coin pouch."

Victor smiled wickedly. "So forward!"

"Now, Victor. This is important."

A sniff and a pout didn't prevent the Ice King from pulling a silken cord from his hip, a bag of coldest blue forming, its sides bulging. Holding it in his open palm, he pulled the string, laying it bare. Dross, those glimmering coins of rainbow light, spilled from it with the tinkling of freshly cracked icicles.

"That's what I thought. You're dross drunk. Transform that into a treasure. Any minor thing will do," the spring fey commanded with the ease of life long friendship.

Victor pulled a face,but gathered the coins into a pile none the less. Filling the pouch with a reasonable amount of magic, he closed it, tucking it back into nothing. Plucking up a few remaining dross, he put two on ether side of his tong, letting them dissolved like the finest chocolates. Once they were no more, his hands lifted, eyes closing, as long fingers pulled and warped the dross unto a shape he couldn't quite imagine. They became a lump of immovable shimmering lights until he focused, calling to mind his greater purpose. A small bust formed, something he'd seen in the museum a few days prior.

Christophe rose a brow. "Well, I suppose you can say you bought it as a souvenir."

Significantly more focused, Victor opened his eyes. "It was all that came to mind." Eyeing his handy work, he sighed. "Now, what was this about shadows today?"

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24, part 25, part 26, part 27

[colettebronte]

Wip Tag Game

I was tagged by @fayes-fics thanks friend!

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

So here are the titles of my current wips:

All the Time in the World: Chapter 3

Boardroom/Bedroom

Escort Anthony

The Dates: First Date

The Detectives and the Dame

The Queen and the General: Beltane Special Part 2

The Queen and the General 6: Enemy Territory

Rise and Breathe: Chapter 1

Valentine Threesome

Go ahead and ask away! Fair warning: some of these are still just in the outline & moodboard phase.

Now pardon me while I go cry into my Google docs at the sheer volume of this list 😫

[beastial-bacchanal]

🎭🌞🎉🧭🪄 For the Pagan/polytheist ask game

🎭 - I’ve had a lot of emotionally impactful experiences throughout my almost 12 years as a practicing pagan, but the one that stands out to me right now (as I sit by my window enjoying the first bright sunshine of the year) is when I visited Delphi as a teenager. It was a very rough time in my life - I’d just entered my first serious relationship, which would not be healthy or pleasant, and on top of that I had an absolutely killer UTI that would soon turn into a kidney infection. I don’t do well in heat at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. I was sick, confused and exhausted, and I sat in a small patch of shade with my head resting against the ancient wall behind me and asked the gods for guidance. Unbidden, I heard a gentle male voice, speaking as though it was right beside my ear, say “Love yourself as you love the gods. Love yourself as we love you. We are here when you call.” At the time I didn’t actively work with Apollo, but because of where I was I knew it was him. For the rest of that day, my sickness subsided, and I’ve never forgotten those words of wisdom, even though it took me a few years to start living by them.

🌞 - this is definitely something that changes through the years - I collect deities along the way, and though my worship sometimes becomes more or less active, I’ve never lost my love and appreciation for any of them. Currently I’d say I’m closest to Apollo, Dionysus and Loki, and lately I’ve been reaching out to Hades, Hermes, Freyja and Cernunnos a lot for help & guidance through some pretty bad financial difficulty.

🎉 - I try to celebrate any festivals related to the deities I worship! It’s tricky as a lot of them haven’t been recorded in detail, or don’t line up with the modern calendar, but I reliably always observe the classic ‘corner of the year’ ones most pagans seem to (Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, Lammas, Mabon, Samhain, Yule), as well as both rural & city Dionysia, Deipnon & Noumenia, Thargelia and Carneia. Hopefully this year I’ll be able to learn about more and schedule some worship for them accordingly.

🧭 - this is another story of a meaningful connection, so buckle in! I’ve always had some awareness of the gods, I just didn’t have a name for them before I was 12 years old. Before that, I used to leave offerings in the holes in trees and beside rivers and streams, and sit up late at night sharing my worries with the moon. I never knew who I was talking to, but I knew that they were there. When I was 12, I was incredibly depressed and lost in the world, and in dire need of some kindness and guidance. I was on holiday with my parents in Cornwall, and although I adore the places we stayed & visited, summer holidays with my parents were reliably a hotbed of loneliness and verbal abuse. On this day, I had spent the morning crying in my room, and was debating wandering up onto the steep cliffs and just leaving my fate up to nature. While these thoughts played in my head, we were visiting somewhere called Rocky Valley, an interesting geological formation around a small stream as it met with the ocean, and home to some very ancient Celtic carvings in the rocky walls on one side. I was distraught and didn’t want to be there, but from the second I stepped out of the car, the most incredible sense of peace and tranquillity fell over me. I felt like I was where I was meant to be. In a trance, I wandered along the stream, running my hand over the carvings, and scrambled up some larger rocks to find a perch that looked out over the ocean and the wooded cliffs beside it. As a gust of wind blew loose leaves into the air in front of me, and for a moment it looked like a humanoid figure with antlers. I didn’t hear words, exactly, but I felt in that moment that I had someone watching over me. Later that day we visited the Boscastle museum of witchcraft (highly recommend!) and I learned the name of the one who had appeared to me - Cernunnos. I bought a book about Celtic gods in the gift shop, and began my journey into finding the gods.

🪄 - I do! When I was younger I did a lot more spell work (mostly curses and glamours) but as I got older it transitioned more into deity-assisted practice, until now it’s very rare that I don’t ask for the aid of my deities when practicing my craft. These days most of my spells are related to self-love and prosperity, and with each one I have felt the guiding hands of those deities best suited to help me in my goal.

Thanks for the ask!! This was really fun to do ✨

[sirensatyr]

^Scene inspired by this song^

Everyone Leaves

"He's the complete opposite of me... he's selfless while I am selfish. I...I stopped letting people in, and I stopped being vulnerable. Because sooner or later they leave...eventually everyone leaves." Her voice is soft, measured, and somber. Azrael turns their head to look at the woman. Her eyes were staring ahead, the light in her eyes fading, darkening with the thoughts of before...with the past regrets and loss of those once loved.

"Naida told me once...that love is for the living, but I neither live nor die. In fact, I don't quite know what I am. Am I even still human? Even just a little?" Her tone shakes with the uncertainty and Death turns away to look down at the ground.

"Naida is wrong, and so are you. Love is just as much for the living as for the dead, I know that much. As for what you are, it doesn't matter as much as how you feel inside. The question was never about your deservance of love but rather if you can still feel it...and with a speech like that, I can say with absolute certainty that despite your immortality you are still very much human at heart," Azrael responds evenly, their eyes watching the dust on the ground begin to kick up with the start the evening winds. They stand straight then and begin to walk away.

"Even with all that, what is the point if I'm just going to end up alone in the end?" Beltane murmurs to herself. Azrael turns back to the siren with a hint of openness that Bel had never seen before.

"Who says you're going to end up alone?" They say. At that moment a cry breaks the heavy mood and both figures turn towards the sound. A bit in the distance, the glow of a campfire can be seen with three figures around it. The sound had come from Jethro, Beaky and Aulifr were laughing about something, possibly at his expense. Azrael turned back to Beltane with a pointed look.

"You couldn't get rid of those dumbasses if you tried," Azrael smirks then, before turning away and heading back to the warm glow of the embers. Beltane watches the group from afar, warmth blooming in her chest. Jethro looks up from what he's doing and catches her gaze. A wide grin spreads over his face as he holds up his hand in a hesitant wave. She returns his smile surprisingly easy as she returns his half wave with one of her own. She'd always been a pessimist, even since before she was Beltane, but in this moment...as she notices the light catching in Jethros hair, listens to Beaky's boistrous laugh, sees the way Aulifr moves his arms animatically when he talks, and even when Azrael frowns disapprovingly as Beaky downs another neon glowing (probably toxic) drink, she can't help but feel a spark of hope in her heart that this time...maybe this time, she's found the ones who would stay.

[vincentstlouis]

In the early morning air

between the Londonderry hush of dreams

and the cry of Belfast on a weary morn

Where saddened eyes embody the twilight haze

of long past marches, the bewildering blaze

Of Beltane fires that scorch the hills

The world shudders to the battle cries

where brother to brother the war pitch fills

the saddened visions that over spills

That a Gaelic tongue can curse its own

To the bitter harvest of the Gael

That wipes away the blood dew

from these fields from which it grew

and damns itself in the pain and sorrow

That relives this war on every tomorrow.

“Ireland” by Alisdaire O'Caoimph