#Iridescent Passage

[madcat-world]

Arkham Horror Card: Iridescent Passage - Nele-Diel

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Arkham Horror Card Game - Iridescent Passage by Nele Diel

[acosmicbee]

Forgotten Royal

Platonic Yandere King x GN Teen Reader

You stood inside a hidden servant's passage, watching as the royal ball took place. Out there, sitting proudly on their thrones, was the royal family. Well, most of them anyway, but you didn't technically count. You had been the result of an affair between the king and a maid and your birth had caused an uproar in the palace.

The queen had done everything to get rid of the person causing her so much embarrassment by accusing your mother of everything she could. Adultery, thievery, witchcraft. She was barely a day postpartum when she'd been burned at the stake in front of the palace. The maids, however, had saved you with the king's permission. That was the only thing he'd ever done for you.

The head maid raised you, teaching you to stay out of sight and out of mind. She had some level of pity and care for you, but not enough to make you feel welcomed here. Now you were about to turn 14, the age when you would've made your debut and joined noble society. The day when you would've been announced as one of the heirs in line for the throne.

Instead you were hidden away, the secret bastard child of King Peter. You pretended to be unbothered, smiling away the hurt and anger you felt as you did your daily chores. Overtime. you had grown tired of always watching from within the walls and tonight it finally caught up with you.

You turned, dashing through the corridors as you made your way towards the kitchen. The head maid spared you a single pitied glance before returning to her work as you dashed out the door into the garden.

You ignored the rare plants and magnificent decor, a mission in mind. You headed straight towards the outer wall and climbed up to the top, using the gaps in the stone as foot and handholds. From up here you could watch the ocean and beach below the cliffs the castle stood on. 

It was a cloudy night and you strained to see whatever you could when the moon was briefly free of the cloud cover. A few seconds of moonlight illuminated a speck on the water below. The next time the clouds shrank away from the moon they were closer. You realized it must be a boat, probably a merchant ship heading south to the next kingdom over. 

You sat there, watching in glimpses as the ship sailed around the island, out of your sight. Maybe they were heading for the port. Maybe they were heading for the next kingdom. You honestly didn't care too much other than wishing you had the freedom to sail wherever you wanted.

Although, thinking about boats reminded you of a really cool shell you'd found down at the beach last time you snuck down there. It had been a while since you'd gone, maybe you'd ditch your chores tomorrow to go see it.

Eventually, you climbed down the wall and headed back inside the palace to go to bed. You fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day and all the chores you'd done. You were long asleep when the head maid peeked into your room. After assessing you were safe and sound she walked off to continue with her work, making a mental note for the next time the king asked about you.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The ocean was cool and felt like bliss on your legs as you scanned the beach. You'd snuck away from the head maid, taking the long route to get here. While you did have to go all the way around to the beach by the main port before you could climb the rocky outcrops to reach the north beach, it was worth it. 

You'd already found some perfect scallop shells and an iridescent muscle shell. You wandered the shoreline, constantly checking the sand for anything that caught your eye. It was when you reached down to pick up a sand dollar did you feel a strong arm grab you by the waist and hoist you up.

"Well, well, well. What kind of treasure do we have here?" A deep voice asked. You struggled as hard as you could, dropping your shells in the process.

"Let me go!" You demanded, but your struggles were useless against a man way stronger than you were. He easily contained you until you'd tired yourself out. It was then he'd turned you around in his arms, holding you bridal style.

The man wore a crown, similar to King Peter's. He was probably a neighboring king, here as an invited guest to the ball last night. Your eyes locked with his brown ones. You both stared at each other before he smirked down at you.

"What is a maid's child doing all the way out here?" He asked, guessing your profession by the dull and worn out clothing you wore. You glared at him in annoyance.

"I'm collecting shells. Put me down." You demanded again. You were getting angry now, starting to squirm again.

"Where are your parents, child? You're a long way from the castle." The man asked. He finally put you down after an exceptionally harsh glare from you. You dusted off your clothes before picking up the shells you'd dropped before.

"I don't have parents." You answered, inspecting a razor clam shell. You decided against adding it to your growing collection and headed further down the beach. The man followed after you.

"You're too young to be out here alone. Did you scale the rocks to get here?" The man asked. You nodded, picking up a small spiral shaped shell and adding it to your pile. "That was very dangerous. If you slipped you would've fallen into the ocean. Do you even know how to swim?" 

"I don't slip, I know how not to." You answered simply. The man hummed for a moment before his eyes lit up, not that you could see with your back turned.

"I know exactly what you need." He said, striding over and picking you up again. This time you held onto your shells as he started carrying you down the beach.

"Hey! I'm not a kid! You can't just pick me up whenever!" You snapped, giving him a dirty look. He just smiled.

"I think, as your new father, I can do anything I want."

"N- new what?!" You shrieked, trying to squirm and roll your way out of his arms.

"You see, I was planning to come here to send your little king a message. My empire could really use some of the resources but King Peter refuses to trade with us over some past issues. But now," the man grinned down at you. "Now not only do I have an heir, but I will also have the resources I need as soon as King Peter realizes his choices are to trade with me or watch his kingdom burn. He will surrender and I will have everything I need."

Your mouth was open in horror. This wasn't a guest, but a blatant enemy. Then again... what had King Peter ever done for you? Why did you feel any obligation to stop this? But at the same time, what about the servants who had raised you? What about the head maid who was your sole mother figure.

All you could do was desperately struggle as he carried you down the beach.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"You asked for me, my king?" The head maid said, bowing as she entered his study. Peter just sighed, waving her closer.

"Stop it with the formalities. You know why I called you here and you know what I want." He said, his voice commanding. The head maid just nodded.

"Y/N has been a little down lately. I think it's partially jealousy over their place compared to your other children. They snuck out to the garden last night during the ball, but were in bed and asleep when I checked on them." She reported.

"Jealous hmm..." Peter hummed, a storm of emotions flickering through his eyes. "And where are they right now?"

"Probably down at the beach, my king. They skipped out on their chores today."

"When they return, send them to me. I think it's finally time we had a little chat." He said, dismissing her.

"Yes, my king."

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Your 'new father' gripped your wrists to keep you from hitting as he carried you aboard the ship. You didn't care about the spectacle you were making as you tried your hardest to fight back with just your legs. Clearly you were drawing some attention when a man limped up to your captor with an annoyed glare.

"Lucas! You can't just suddenly wander off like that! You know fully well that your men don't listen to me!" The man seethed. He looked similar to your 'father', or Lucas as you now knew. They had the same green eyes and plethora of freckles, but Lucas had fiery red hair while the second man had dark brown. The second man supported himself on an ornate cane as he stood in front of Lucas.

"Darling, meet my little brother, Pierre." Your 'father' introduced, finally setting you down but not releasing your wrists. You froze as Pierre's mouth dropped open in shock. He glanced back and forth between you and Lucas for a while before he let out a long suffering sigh.

"Did you kidnap a child, Lucas? Really?!" Pierre asked. He limped closer to you, using his sleeve to wipe some stray sand off of your face.

"You always make everything sound so bad, Pierre. They said they had no parents so theres no one to kidnap them from. It's an adoption." Lucas insisted. Pierre rolled his eyes, carefully looking you over.

"You poor thing. Look at these dreadful rags..." Pierre frowned at your clothing and Lucas nodded.

"Indeed. Can you schedule a fitting for them once we return? Both for a new wardrobe and a crown. Until then though, I should be able to scrounge up something a little better." Lucas said. Pierre nodded before gesturing over to a knight who was waiting patiently.

"Go talk to your men, brother. I'll run them a bath while you're busy. I'll also get them some clothes, you wouldn't know proper fashion if it was standing right in front of you." Pierre chastised. He gently led you away from Lucas and towards a private cabin.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You felt cleaner than you had in ages. Not only were you allowed to use hot water, and the most expensive hair products and soaps, but Pierre had spent a while just brushing your hair for you. He was, in your opinion, the only upside to the spontaneous kidnapping. You'd never had someone take care of you like this before.

Pierre had dressed you in one of Lucas' shirts, and some deer hide trousers. The trousers were likely borrowed from some junior knight because they were only a little loose. The shirt, on the other hand, swamped you and Pierre had to cuff the sleeves for it to fit properly. 

At some point, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving you sleepy, but irritable. You were actually enjoying having your hair brushed, Pierre's hands gentle and caring, when the cabin door had flung open with Lucas standing in the doorway. 

"Thank you, Pierre. How about you go tend to your leg, hm?" Pierre huffed, looking annoyed and uncertain, but eventually did what Lucas asked.

Upon being alone, he grabbed you again which caused you to glare at him again. He carried you over to the small desk in the cabin, placing you on his lap as he inspected something. It horrified you to realize it was a map of the castle.

He held you closer when you tried to squirm away. His grip tightened to near painful, only relenting when you finally stopped resisting. He just chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of your damp hair as he took notes on the side of the map.

It took a long time for the exhaustion you'd felt earlier to come back to haunt you. When it did you resisted as long as you could before your body involuntarily relaxed into his. He placed down his pen when that happened, a dark look in his eyes as his interest shifted from the map to you.

"Don't worry darling, we'll be able to head home soon. I promise you my empire is way more impressive than this. The castle has a private beach attached where you can go scavenge for shells every day if you wish." Lucas promised you, ruffling your hair as you drifted off.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Pierre was the one who took care of you that night. He fed you dinner and tucked you into bed. Lucas had already left with his knights to storm the castle, minus a couple who were guarding your door. You'd never been tucked into bed before, and the weight of quality blankets mixed with a full stomach made your eyes go half lidded.

You were a goner before Pierre started reading to you from a book he'd pulled from one of Lucas' shelves. In an instant you had fallen asleep, Pierres soothing voice carrying your mind to the realm of dreams.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"I'm surprised you didn't try and run with them." Pierre didn't turn to look at Lucas. Even from where he sat at your bedside he could smell the metallic scent of blood. His brother always got more trigger happy after a kill.

"And run where?" He asked, closing the book and laying it in his lap. He still refused to look at Lucas, keeping his eyes trained on your sleeping figure.

"Smart boy. You've learned since last time." There was a rustle from behind him and a few minutes later Lucas stepped into his view. He was just wearing his pants and boots, shirt, cape and armor abandoned. "How's your leg brother?"

Pierre growled, anger growing. "You would know, wouldn't you? Seeing as you're the one who broke it." Not only had Lucas broken it, he'd also made sure it never healed correctly, leading to the limp.

"Today must be a bad day then. Seeing as you're so grouchy and you were actually using the cane I got you."

"You know just as well as I do that you're going to hurt them. At some point they'll do something, just like I did, and you'll snap at them too." Pierre said, standing from the chair and finally meeting his eyes. Lucas only smirked, an evil look on his face.

"Family is very important to me. They'll learn that just as you have, brother. Now be a dear and go get some sleep, hm? You've had enough time with them today."

Pierre left the cabin with a sick feeling in his stomach. One of the knights standing guard immediately started to escort him to his own cabin. As he looked up at the stars, past the smoke rising from the now burning castle and ignoring the screaming of the people of this kingdom, he hoped you would escape and lead a happier, and freer, life then he had ever been able to. 

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Peter clenched his fists as he watched his castle burn. His eldest son was commanding the guards to douse the fire and find the queen. His other children were crying, his youngest daughter clinging to his pants. He knew they wouldn't find her alive, he'd already taken care of her before the fire had broken out.

He was about to take over from his son, to redirect the guards to helping civilians, when the head maid came running over, her face streaked with ash. Her eyes looked panicked as she approached him.

"My king, Y/N is missing." With those words the anger burning inside him was stoked into a raging inferno. "One of the guards said they saw a ship flying the flag of the Ashefall Kingdom docked down at North Beach!"

His mind raced as he realized what that meant. You'd gone to the beach today. You had been down by the ship. Had they captured you? Were you being tortured? Had that savage monster killed you? He growled, realizing if he'd been able to get rid of his wife sooner, this never would have happened.

You'd have been raised alongside your siblings as a royal. You would've been escorted by guards wherever you went. No one could have ever laid a finger on you. He growled as he stormed past the burning palace, easily scaling the garden wall. He watched as a tiny ship cruised past the shore, even from up there he could see the maroon flags blowing in the wind.

"Mark my words. I will get my vengeance, for my kingdom and for Y/N." He promised, glaring down at the boat as it sailed away.

[beelze0-0]

Arcane x Annihilation Part 2

Made in collaboration with my dear friend @astroboibaepsae who wrote a spectacular companion fic

CW: dead body, blood

(ID: sequential art image 1: A wide shot of Viktor walking towards the lighthouse/tower, the shape reminiscent of the hexgates, surrounded by an iridescent haze with debris floating in the sky image 2: Viktor inside the lighthouse, face to face with the burnt and decayed body of Jayce, a dark passage visible in the back image 3: Viktor in front of the Hexcore feeding it his blood image 4: Viktor interrogated by Ambessa and Rictus, who wear hazmat suits image 5: Duplicate Jayce and Viktor holding each other in a hospital bed, their eyes glow iridescent from the shimmer/arcane end ID)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Ideas: Magical & Mystic Locations

Abyssal Depths: The deepest, darkest, and most treacherous part of the abyss.

Ancient Observatory: A centuries-old observatory with mystical stargazing abilities.

Astral Observatory: A tower where seers gaze into the astral plane.

Celestial Gauntlet: A place connecting different celestial realms.

Celestial Realm: A realm bathed in divine light and inhabited by celestial beings.

Clockwork Village: A community where clockwork automatons coexist with magic.

Cloud Castle: A fortress floating amidst the clouds, home to skyward adventurers.

Cloud City: A metropolis suspended in the clouds accessible by airships.

Cosmic Wormhole: A portal to the far reaches of the cosmos and beyond.

Crystal Caves: A labyrinthine system of caves adorned with luminescent crystals.

Crystal Coast: A stunning coastline adorned with iridescent gemstones.

Crystal Spire: A towering spire made of crystalline material.

Crystalline Caverns: A series of interconnected caverns adorned with shining crystals.

Cursed Swamp: A creepy swamp home to cursed beings.

Dark Abyss: A seemingly bottomless chasm shrouded in darkness.

Dragon's Lair: A cavernous home to a colossal, slumbering dragon.

Dragon's Nest: A safe haven for dragon eggs and their young.

Dragon's Roost: A mountaintop lair where dragons dwell and guard their hoard.

Dream Realm: A surreal realm where dreams come to life.

Dreamcatcher Grove: A grove where dreamcatchers capture and store dreams.

Dreamcatcher Trees: Trees where dreamcatchers grow, capturing the dreams of the forest.

Dwarven Mines: Underground tunnels where dwarves mine precious gemstones.

Elemental Plane: A realm where the elements take on sentient forms and powers.

Elemental Portal: A convergence point for elemental forces and magic.

Elemental Sanctuary: A sanctuary where elemental beings find refuge.

Elven Enclave: A secluded and mystical enclave of elven culture.

Elven Kingdom: An elegant realm ruled by noble and immortal elves.

Enchanted Forest: A sprawling woodland where trees whisper ancient secrets.

Enchanted Garden: A flourishing garden filled with magical, sentient plants.

Enchanted Tides: A coastal area where the tides are influenced by magic.

Enchanted Treetops: Canopy of an enchanted forest where treetop dwellings are built.

Enchanted Waterfall: A waterfall with the power to purify and heal.

Eternal Garden: A garden where time has no effect.

Ethereal Castle: A castle that materializes and dematerializes in the ethereal plane.

Fairy Ring: A circle of mushrooms where fairies gather to dance and celebrate.

Fairy Village: A charming settlement inhabited by tiny, mischievous fairies.

Fire Elemental Forge: A forge where fire elementals craft fiery weapons.

Firefly Forest: A forest where fireflies light up the night with their glow.

Floating Islands: A realm of floating landmasses suspended in the sky.

Floating Gardens: Gardens suspended in the sky, nurtured by air and magic.

Forbidden Tomb: A tomb filled with ancient curses, traps, and treasures.

Forgotten Ruins: Crumbling remains of a once-great civilization.

Ghost Ship: A spectral vessel crewed by ghostly sailors sailing eternally.

Gnome Workshop: A bustling factory where gnomes invent fantastical gadgets.

Gnomish Workshop: A lively workshop where gnomes tinker with fantastic inventions.

Goblin Kingdom: A mischievous kingdom ruled by cunning goblin royalty.

Goblin Market: A chaotic bazaar run by cunning goblins selling magical wares.

Goblin Tunnels: A network of underground tunnels and caverns inhabited by goblins.

Haunted Castle: A spectral fortress filled with restless, ghostly inhabitants.

Haunted Manor: A mansion haunted by restless spirits and poltergeists.

Haunted Marsh: A desolate and ghostly marshland.

Haunted Sea Passage: A narrow sea passage known for its eerie, haunting sounds.

Hidden Valley: A secluded valley with a serene and mystical ambiance.

Hidden Waterfall: A secluded cascade concealed behind a shimmering veil of illusion.

Hidden Waterways: Subterranean rivers and water passages hidden from sight.

Ice Palace: A palace made of ice and snow.

Isle of Echoes: An island known for echoing whispers and eerie sounds.

Labyrinth: A maze filled with twists, turns, and perplexing puzzles.

Lost Oasis: An oasis hidden deep within a desert, holding hidden wonders.

Lost Shipwreck: The remnants of a ship lost to time, holding forgotten treasures.

Lost Temple: An ancient temple concealed in a dense jungle, holding untold treasures.

Magic Bazaar: A marketplace overflowing with enchanted trinkets and artifacts.

Magical Market: A bustling market where magical goods and creatures are sold.

Mermaid Lagoon: A vibrant underwater lagoon inhabited by merfolk.

Monolith Structure: A monolithic black structure with mysterious powers.

Moonlit Grotto: A subterranean cavern bathed in the ethereal light of the moon.

Moonstone Quarry: A quarry where precious moonstones are harvested.

Mysterious Well: A well said to reveal glimpses of the past and future to those who peer into it.

Mystic Library: A vast repository of otherworldly knowledge guarded by sentient books.

Mythical Mountain: A towering peak said to be the home of mythical creatures.

Nightmare Realm: A nightmarish dimension where fears and terrors manifest.

Pirate Cove: A hidden haven for swashbuckling pirates and their treasure.

Rainbow Bridge: A radiant arch connecting different realms.

Serene Glade: A serene glade where the boundary between realms is thin.

Shadowy Forest: A forest cloaked in eternal night and inhabited by shadowy creatures.

Shifting Sands Dunes: A desert where the sands are in constant motion, hiding ancient relics.

Sorcerer's Tower: A towering structure where a powerful sorcerer resides.

Space Nexus: A place in the stars where all galaxies converge.

Spirit Sanctuary: A haven where spirits of the departed find peace and rest.

Starfall Lake: A serene lake under a constant meteor shower.

Stargazing Grove: A tranquil grove illuminated by the light of countless stars.

Stargazing Ridge: A ridge that experiences frequent meteor showers.

Steampunk Airship: A fantastical flying vessel powered by steam and gears.

Steampunk City: A technologically advanced city with a Victorian aesthetic.

Sunken Ruins: The remnants of a once-mighty civilization beneath the sea.

Timeless Realm: A place where time stands still, frozen in eternal beauty.

Time-Warp Tavern: A tavern where time travelers gather to swap tales.

Troll Bridge: A bridge guarded by trolls, demanding a toll from travelers.

Underwater City: An illuminated metropolis beneath the ocean's depths.

Underworld: A realm ruled by dark deities and inhabited by the deceased.

Underworld Abyss: A chasm leading to the deepest, darkest depths of the underworld.

Underworld Citadel: A citadel deep within the underworld, home to dark powers.

Unicorn Meadows: Fields where graceful unicorns roam freely.

Vampire Castle: A foreboding castle inhabited by ancient vampire lords.

Whispering Pines: A tranquil forest where the pine trees whisper secrets.

Witch's Cauldron Room: A room with a bubbling cauldron said to grant potent magical brews.

Witch's Cottage: A crooked, mysterious dwelling surrounded by enchanted herbs.

Witch's Labyrinth: A twisting maze filled with magical traps and challenges.

Wizard's Academy: A prestigious school of magic where wizards are trained.

Wonderland: A surreal landscape filled with whimsical and absurd wonders.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[katsukikitten]

The red dress is perfect on you, a deep crimson color that matches his eyes and that alone has Katsuki salivating. Then your body has to look perfect in everything to him, especially when you doll it up in clothes you don't normally wear. This was for a hero event, awards to be given although Bakugou didn't care much for the fanfare of it all, he just liked being number one.

Although he is happy when there are times like these, you who fusses angrily over your few gray hairs, who plucks a few that are "too close" to framing your face, clad in lipstick as you snarl at your pretty reflection. Katsuki likes the greys, likes the signs of aging on your body even if you loathe it entirely. To him it is proof of the passage of time well spent and together.

His eyes fall down to your cleavage, smirking as he comes behind you to help with the pearls your sharp claws are struggling to clasp.

"I can give ya a pearl necklace ya know. All natural." He has a wolfish grin, clasping the necklace as he stays with his pelvis pressed to your ass. Your brows furrow, another snarl as you look at his reflection.

"Katsuki, you already have. Our first year anniversary, remember?" A roll of your eyes as you tap the round iridescent pearls. He sucks his teeth playfully, broad hand coming around to pet your throat before his digit traces a sloppy and uneven half circle just beneath the pearls.

"Lemme give you another set." His crude gesture earns your ire. A sharp glare at his reflection that makes his cock jump against your ass. Fingers coming to brush hair from your shoulder, his eyes momentarily lingering on the few starlight strands of grey before they move back to your skin hungrily. Envisioning you on your knees with something just as pearly white as your necklace although a bit sticky.

"You're fuckin insufferable." You scoff, still a fixed glare on his reflection before you reach for another beauty product. Only for him to grab your throat roughly, to crane your neck until you're looking at him, nose to nose, ass to his pelvis and you're reminded of all of the times he's held you like that. Stared into your eyes as he sloppily rut into your tight cunt giving you every last drop he had.

"But ya love it. Ya love me."

"Yea, somehow I do." Katsuki grins wider when your tone comes out breathy, a sound he loves to hear. Moving to close the gap, to let his tongue slide over yours when you give the tip a light nip, "But you hate being late more Suki. You always blame me."

"How can I not when my wife looks so fuckin hot in anything she wears? 'sides, I can stand to be a little late."

[salemisha]

a song of pearl and waves.

the reasoning of why the velaryons would be black in my dr, would have some sort of logic to it instead of "woke" brownie points like the show (and yet still somehow managed to treat the black actors like shit and give them bad wigs and reducing baela and rhaena screentime instead of making them more complex but lemme stop lol) would have an actual magical significance.

the sea caste in my dr are indigenous to the valyrian peninsula just as the fire caste (dragonlords) are. but unlike the fire caste with their pale skin and paler hair, and various shades of purple colored eyes, the sea caste is dark skinned. why? they were sea marked. sea blessed. by nature. it is not a passive force in my world.

they are unmistakably sea-born, their beauty shaped not by fire or sun, but by salt, tide, and ancestral magic. they come in all shades of brown, from the richest dark skin to the palest brown — black, but diverse. some are deep-skinned like storm-washed stone, others have light brown skin that gleams almost golden in sunlight. a rare few are so pale-brown as to appear nearly silver-gilded, especially under moonlight. no matter the shade, their skin always carries a watery sheen, like something blessed — or marked — by the sea.

their hair is silver or silver-white, often with subtle iridescence. in some, it appears like sea-silk, glimmering faintly with green or pearl under certain light; in others, it cascades in tight curls or long, weightless waves — flowing like water even when dry. it’s common for sea caste to wear it adorned with shells, coral beads, or tide-threads given during rites of passage.

its also why more often than not despite also being flame kissed, im mistaken for being entirely sea caste. entirely due to my dark skin. the only glimpse one would have of the other half of my lineage would be my eye color. a stark purple instead of the tide colors that sea caste usually adorn.

[sapphirewritesx]

Kinslayer - Aemond Targaryen x Naerys Velaryon (oc)

summary: Naerys returns to King’s Landing after ten, long years. Arriving to support her younger brother’s claim to the Driftwood Throne, she knows she will stay to fulfill her betrothal to her uncle, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

word count: 4.5k

tags/warnings: strong!oc, older sister!oc, arranged marriage, oc rides Seasmoke but is terrified of fire, flashbacks to Aemond's eye loss, he won't be nice, oc and Aemond have a swordfight, enemies to lovers, slowburn (plot before we get to the smut, and trust me, we'll get there)

(narrated in first person, eventually dual pov)

ao3: Kinslayer by sapphirewritesx

Naerys

Mist cloaks the view ahead in a soft veil. The clouds part for us, their shape breaking as we dance between them. I grip the ropes tighter, my legs adjusting around the saddle. It has not been long since the cries of Arrax and Vermax faded into the wind. They cannot be that far behind.

I need to go faster.

We flew past Duskendale’s Harbor and the Dun Fort right before I parted from Jace and Luke. If my timing is precise, we ought to be above the apple orchards of Rosby, meaning King’s Landing lies a short distance to the north. I have to make it to the Dragonpit before either of them does.

Determining their location is nearly impossible with no other lead than my own perception of time, but it wouldn’t be the first instance I manage to pull off the trick.

They already know how it’s done.

The aim is to gradually ascend as high as reachable while maintaining the right path set forward, unknown to other riders. The weight and size of the dragons are crucial factors at play, that coupled with the relative youth of both, are not in their favor. The fact that neither matches mine is already a shortcoming. Now, the time between reaching the desired height and the free fall to the target destination is nothing but a gamble—one that I always win. It is no fair game to them, most definitely. But then again, nothing truly is.

I could be a good sister and let them taste victory, if only once. And I might.

But not today.

For ten long years, I have avoided returning to the capital of the Realm, despite being born and raised underneath the shadows of its towering spires.

Ever the lonely girl, I drifted through the castle halls with a book in hand, seeking a hidden spot to devour its pages. Inked words on paper became my dearest friend, a hollow replacement for the bond I desperately longed for. My dragon egg never hatched. Void of life, its iridescent scales remained cold on the hearth by the cradle. Instead of spending my time with winged creatures, I soared through history with the ancestors that rode them. From the Doom of Valyria to The Conquest and every reign until Viserys, I had memorized every passage ever written. Nothing seemed to satisfy my need for knowledge, though in truth, all I craved was experience.

The Red Keep’s training yard is where my heart belonged. Between dull blades and rounded arrows, I stood with a wooden stick, fighting off the giant that threatened to push me down with bare hands. The mock sword has now become sharp steel, and the giant was none but my father. The man who taught me to aim for the guts, or preferably, the groin.

His memory still lingers, a cut that never mends.

Every other night, in my sleep, The Stranger takes him away from me. And soon, his ghost will chase me through the walls of the place where I last saw him alive.

It was at Aunt Laena’s funeral that I learned he had left for Harrenhal. A day of loss, in more ways than one, that showed me for what I truly was. Just another card in our deck, pulled to patch the damage I had not caused.

At only four years old, my brother Luke took Aemond’s eye, leaving him half-blinded and scarred. As the second son of King Viserys and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower, such a maiming could never go unpunished. An eye for an eye, she demanded. No hesitance, even as his son’s actions were laid bare.

Laena’s remains had only been buried under the waves of the narrow sea when Aemond risked his life in a desperate attempt to claim her dragon, and astoundingly, succeeded. Vhagar chose him, before her late rider’s youngest daughter could be given a chance. Rhaena and her older sister Baela, refused to accept the outcome. They slipped out of bed and into the corridors of Driftmark to confront him—and we followed.

As Aemond entered the castle, he was met with the fury of the twins, consumed by their grief. To them, it was nothing but the theft of their mother’s old mount, if such a thing can truly be said. A dragon cannot be stolen, it chooses its rider. Inheritance in this matter does not rely on blood. Yet they cornered him, four against one, as if that could break the bond that had just been sealed.

Being the eldest of my siblings, I should have known better than to let it come to blows. His greed was not without reason—not to me. I envied his courage, for had I been brave enough, I might have been the one with a dragon that night.

All concern vanished the moment I heard the word escape his lips.

Bastards.

A truth so evident, only a fool would deny it.

Jace shoved him to the ground. He punched and kicked as Rhaena, Baela and Luke joined in. They could have killed him, while I stood there, frozen in place. Still, Aemond rose to his feet, not a single flinch as he grabbed Luke by the neck, a rock clenched tightly in hand. Ready to strike, his voice broke in anger.

You will die screaming in flames just as your father did.

It was only then that my instinct flared. I lunged forward, and we both rolled over one another until I was pinned beneath him, the rock lost and forgotten in the chaos. Fire crackled from a nearby torch, its sparks threatening to lick at my skin.

He smiled, baring his teeth at me before the weight of his words crushed my lungs.

You don’t know, do you? Harwin Strong is dead.

Jace wrenched him off me, but it wouldn’t end there. Not after what he had said. The twins had certainly begun the ambush, but the fight soon became ours.

Aemond staggered, ready to strike back, when Luke surged forward with the small dagger he’d hidden in his belt. The pale steel of the blade glinted in the dim light as it carved an awry cut up his cheek.

The blow landed swift but true. My once unmarred innocence was slit, as was the right eye from his face.

At eight years old, I could only believe what I was told, even if doubt existed. I was a Velaryon, and my father was Laenor, son and heir to Rhaenys Targaryen and The Lord of the Tides. Nothing to be questioned. That was what Mother always said.

As if the truth was not always there to greet me through the mirror. He was my father. Our father. And he never heard us call him that. Because Aemond had been right—he was dead.

The guards arrived only when his screams became deafening, echoed by Vhagar’s excruciating roars. They dragged us all to the throne hall of Driftmark, where we would answer for our outrage.

None of it could be undone, albeit avenged.

The queen would not rest until justice was bestowed upon the inflicter of her son’s pain, even as the king demanded Rhaenyra be awaited. Aemond sat in the center of the room, knuckles white from gripping the arm of the chair as he tried to remain in place. His eyeball lay in a nacreous shell, cold and bloodied. The maesters removed it from the socket after they deemed it completely lost and began sewing it shut forever.

My own eye twitched in response each time the needle went in through his skin. Remorse clawed at me, but I knew he wouldn’t return such sentiment if the tables were turned.

When Mother finally appeared, the man that gave us his name was not who stood behind her. It was Daemon. Laenor, per usual, was nowhere to be seen after dusk.

As she abruptly lowered to her knees to inspect Luke for wounds, Jace pulled from her skirts. He called us bastards, he told her bluntly, in our defense. Fire danced in her violet eyes when she raised to her feet again. To accuse the heir to the throne’s offspring of being illegitimate is treason—and so she stated.

Viserys paled before his daughter’s words. His younger son would be put under sharp questioning for such accusations, the insult suddenly becoming the source of his worry, not that of his maimed child.

His wife would not have it. There was still a price to be paid, and she would see to it herself, if need be. But the King concluded that there would be no such thing as revenge. Aemond had questioned our legitimacy and birthright. The loss of his eye served him well.

Everyone that stood there that night at Driftmark’s throne room bore witness to Viserys' promise. If anyone dared to suggest his daughter’s children were the result of adultery, there would be no gods they could pray to for mercy.

Still and all, the matter was far from settled.

My mother’s claim to the Iron Throne hung by a thread. After centuries of solely male heirs, the Realm was rightfully reluctant to accept the reign of a woman whose charade of a marriage mocked tradition and law. Without a strong match, a lady has no power. Laenor proved to be anything but, and marrying another man while the current husband was alive, could never be an option. He needed to die—or to be thought dead. The strategy orchestrated with the help of her now uncle-husband was hardly liable. My father in name would be slain by one of his male lovers, leaving my mother a widow and free to remarry, but Princess Rhaenys with no children in less than a moon.

Sacrifices need to be made, she assured me. For the sake of us both. It was not only her claim that was at stake, by consequence, so was mine.

I already knew my fate. Before our relocation to Dragonstone, my hand was offered in marriage to Prince Aegon, the king’s firstborn son and my eldest uncle. Mother presented it as a symbol of genuine reconciliation, a gesture to heal the rift between our families. An arranged marriage that would quell the growing unrest over the succession, for Aegon would sit the throne, the way some thought he deserved.

The proposal was swiftly declined. Plans were already in motion to wed Helaena to Aegon before year’s end—a suggestion from the Hand, their own grandfather, as she had already flowered and they were both considered to be of age.

Neither the king nor his wife would reconsider their decision, and the urgency to settle matters without further discord left no room for careful deliberation, leading to irrevocable mistakes.

My mother cared little which of Alicent’s sons I married, I realized then. After bearing the king three sons, it was only expected that she would want one of them on the Iron Throne. All that mattered was securing the chance for one of them to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And so, Princess Rhaenyra bargained to protect her—our—claim to rule, but it is I who will pay the price.

No amount of years could spare me the weight of such a curse.

We come to the capital to defend Luke’s right to Driftmark—to secure his place as the next Lord of the Tides, should our grandfather, Lord Corlys, succumb to the fever he caught on his recent sailings. Once that is resolved, title gained or lost, they will return to Dragonstone.

I am to remain. At last, forced to face what I have dreaded for more than half of my life.

Marriage.

The letter with the three-headed dragon seal and the king’s own handwriting arrived a fortnight ago, summoning me to court. No more delaying.

I have spent enough years prolonging the inevitable.

That ends now.

“Embrōt!” I command Seasmoke to descend. His silver wings spread wide with effortless grace as he dips his head down. We plummet downwards. My stomach clenches, my lungs struggling for air as we plunge lower. I fight to keep my grip steady, fingers digging into the handles, until his body levels and the flight steadies once more.

Even without a dragon of my own, and knowing my egg would never hatch, I held onto the hope that one day I would fly over King’s Landing. I just never imagined it would take so long, or so much.

Leaning towards the left, my leathers scraping against the saddle, I try to commit the image to memory. The sky is a deep shade cerulean, the sun gleams high above the red-tiled rooftops, gold glinting atop every tower, and the soft breeze rolling in from the sea. For a brief moment, I am nothing but words and ink on a page, part of a story written with no quills, that easily slips from the tips of my fingers.

A deep growl rumbles beneath me, urging me to return to my senses.

The bond between dragon and rider has never been wholly explained or learned, even if it is thoroughly established that each is unique and irreplaceable. There are passages that would go as far as saying the strongest of them can transcend the very flesh and mind. I myself cannot comprehend the true depths of ours, nor how it is possible that it came to be at all.

I do know, however, that his warning comes with reason. Not so far above me, the shapes of two smaller dragons take form, already making their way down to land.

Seven Hells.

I shift higher in my seat, just enough to catch sight of the weathered stone of the castle walls. We are flying toward the Red Keep, the Dragonpit already behind us.

“Pālegon, Embrōrbar!” I shout for him to turn around, and though he obeys with no hesitation, it is with complaint. His deafening roar, followed by that familiar wave of heat erupting through his body tells me enough. He wants to unleash, let his irritation soothe with the flames. No, no fire.

His burning scales find the cooling gush of wind, the pace of our flight increased by tenfold.

Seasmoke has grown larger over the years, and though he might not be built for war, his agility remains unmatched. It’s no challenge for him to reach the Dragonpit with a couple bats of his wings, even as Vermax circles Rhaenys’s Hill, ready to land.

Pity. He was actually close to beating me this time.

Sharp claws sink into the earth, the ground quivering beneath us, barely a short difference to Vermax’s landing.

Quick now, Naerys.

I deftly untangle the ropes from my legs, already poised to slide down the left wing. The moment the soles of my boots meet the dry grass of the hill, a soft thud announces Arrax has arrived. Not that it matters, anyway. I am the one who touched ground first.

“That was definitely a tie,” a voice calls out behind me. I turn to find Jacaerys smirking, clearly proud of nearly besting me at my own game. I’m tempted to point out that if were not for my distraction, I would have been right in this same spot, boringly waiting for them both. I bite my tongue, not wanting to give my thoughts and worries away.

“Well done, Jace.” I approach, patting his shoulder. “When Vermax is fully grown I won’t be a challenge for you anymore.”

“You think he could someday reach Seasmoke’s size?” he asks, raising a dark brow.

I glance up at his dragon, then back at mine as we wait for Luke to dismount. “Seasmoke may still grow,” I reply, “but knowing Vermax hatched from Syrax’s clutch, the odds are good. He might even grow larger.”

He studies my dragon—father’s dragon— his gaze lingering on his imposing form, soft brown eyes filled with silent hope.

“Same with Arrax. Don’t get too smug about it, dear brother,” I tease, smirking at the annoyed scrunch of his nose.

“Ah, so encouraging,” he says, raking a hand through his messy dark curls.

“We aim to please,” I return with a slight bow of my head.

“We should meet Mother at the gates,” Lucerys mutters, nearing us.

I exhale sharply, letting out a shaky huff. “Let me say goodbye at least, will you? I hate leaving him here.”

“As if I could command you,” he answers, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

“I fear one day she will truly command us,” Jace chimes in with a heavy sigh.

“That is uncertain,” I counter, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “I might die before I even get to be queen—leaving that burden for you to bear.”

There is no need to look to know he rolled his eyes at that.

I turn back to Seasmoke, my hands grazing his rough scales as I press my forehead against his side. The heat radiating from him wraps around me in a safe embrace, his wings tucking me in closer. “Not long until we fly again,” I murmur.

Heavy-hearted, I step away from him. Beside my brothers, I watch as our dragons disappear into the darkness of the Dragonpit’s caves.

No one welcomed us into the Red Keep. In part, I am relieved to avoid the usual formalities and the reception from the queen and her children—especially that of one of her sons. Although, it does seem rather impudent not to have anticipated the arrival of the Princess of the Realm and that of her family. Clearly, things have changed around here over the years, with my grandfather’s condition worsening by the day.

Both my brothers ventured inside the castle walls, eager to explore the place like they had never been here at all. I, on the other hand, had to endure a tedious talk about manners and purist expectations. Was told to keep an eye on the other two, of course, save them from trouble before they are in it, were that be possible.

I descend the wooden stairs that lead to the training yard. The thrum of weapons clashing lures me in, like a soft whisper that demands I indulge my curiosity at the sight before me. A large crowd gathers in a tight circle, their shouts and cheers echoing in the open air.

I bet that’s where Jace and Luke are.

Weaving through the agitated public, I search for them. Some of the onlookers part for me, eyes looming in a mixture of wonder and disapproval. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they recognized me. No, their stares are fixed on the sword at my hip and the dagger attached to my thigh. A lady with weapons. Such atrocity.

“Is that all you got, Cole?”

I pause, startled. That voice— oddly familiar yet somehow foreign. I push my way toward the front, determined to discover the reason for everyone's enthrallment. My heart leaps into my throat, pounding as if it might burst out of me entirely.

Swift, precise movements from a lithe man command the yard with effortless mastery. Each strike is deliberate, expertly executed, testament to years of training. The morning sun blushes his pale skin, shining down upon his sharp features as if carved from marble. Long silver hair flows like molten strands of moonlight, a stark contrast to the dark leather eye-patch that covers his right eye, enhancing the bridge of his straight nose.

The boy of my nightmares stands right in front of me, a child no more, but a menacing grown man.

He moves with unnerving ease, sidestepping each of Ser Criston’s blows with his morningstar as if they were mere trifles. Every motion brims with undeniable skill—and searing arrogance.

I stay rooted in place, my feet refusing to let me retreat, even when my instincts urge me to run back to the safety of the castle walls.

Before I can fathom his next move, the sharp tip of his blade is already poised at Ser Criston’s throat, finishing their duel. The crowd erupts into applause, and judging by their fervor, this is far from the first time the one-eyed prince has claimed victory.

“Well done, my prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.” To my surprise, Ser Criston humbly accepts his defeat, his words laced with content. A proud teacher, I see.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” his cold tone cuts through the praise like a honed dagger. The blade remains in position, purposefully pointed in the opposite direction as a dangerous smile curves his lips. “Nephews, have you come to train?”

Fuck.

There they are, just a few steps away, nervously exchanging glances, searching for an escape. Idiots. Luke averts his eyes from the prince to avoid confrontation, but his gaze meets mine. He elbows Jace, whose hand has instantly gone to his own sword, making my presence known not only for him, but for all. Realization dawns on him then. Too late.

“Princess Naerys,” he calls my name with a low rasp, his voice strained from the fight. My skin crawls. “At last we meet again.”

His lavender stare drifts over my riding leathers, tracing my form in scrutiny, before settling back on my face.

“Prince Aemond,” I nod curtly, forcing a tight grin. “It has been far too long.”

Dozens of eyes intently survey our interaction, truly aware now of who I am. He takes a rapid step forward, closing the distance between us. I hold my ground, refusing to let his imposing height diminish me.

Steadily, the prince leans down, and for a fleeting moment, I think he’s reaching for my hand. His fingers close around the hilt of my sword, and in one fluid motion, he draws it from its sheath.

I hold my breath.

“What do we have here?” he muses, twisting the sword lightly in his hand, testing its weight and balance. His eye narrows with disdain. “Such a heavy sword.”

I was wrong. Arrogant falls short to describe his attitude.

My lips part, ready to demand he return what’s mine.

With a swift motion, he throws the sword back at me, hilt-first. I barely manage to catch it, the blade almost slicing through my fingers. The crowd gasps.

Jace surges forward, ready to intervene, but Aemond moves first. A devilish gleam crosses his face, as he raises his sword and charges directly at me.

I dodge the first strike, instinct driving my body away from the blade, and brace myself for his next assault. His laugh echoes through the yard, low and bursting with satisfaction, a predator delighting in the chase.

“Come now, dear.” He takes a step back, adjusting his stance. “Grant me this duel.”

I cast my brother a warning look, a silent order for him to stay out of this. I am not just some girl who plays at being swordsman. The weapons I carry, I know how to use.

My blade clashes against his with a loud clang. If he wants a fight, I am more than willing to oblige.

He pulls away, spinning his sword behind his back—a flaunting performance of skill. I duck his next strike as well, and a flicker of disappointment tugs at his lips.

“Oh, please. Do not hold back,” he taunts. Our blades collide, the sharp edge hovering mere inches from my face. His tone drops to a whisper, “Show me what you can handle, darling niece.”

My heart pounds faster, the rhythm echoing in my ears like a war drum. He is toying with me. Surely, he would revel in demonstrating this crowd just how easily he could best me. However, I suspect that what he desires most is not proof of his strength over me. No, he wants my shame. To let all those present know I am not his equal, nor I could ever be. Remind them I shall hold no true power.

The pressure between our clashed swords is intense enough that neither of us dares withdraw and risk losing balance. Falling would mean giving him the upper hand, and I am not willing to take that chance. Forced into a stalemate, we pull away in the same instant—then dive right back to our fray.

A frustrated groan escapes him as he tightens his hold on the hilt, knuckles white. The clattering of steel turns frantic, each blow harder and faster than the last. Our labored breaths become an aggressive tune, accompanied by grunts of exertion.

A burning ache spreads down my arms, hindering my responses. Cold sweat slicks my fingers, the grip on my handle faltering despite my efforts to keep it restrained.

His frame, though far from hefty, speaks of unyielding endurance. The muscle etched onto his body does not strain him as it does other men, to my dismay. I catch the fierce glow in his eye, and an unsettling question surfaces—what lies beneath the eye-patch?

The sword slips from my hands, meeting the ground with a resonant noise as the crowd holds a breath.

Aemond lunges, ready to point the tip of his sword to my heart. I fall back, bending down in what might seem a desperate attempt to retrieve my weapon. Instead my hand darts to the silver dagger attached to my thigh. When I rise up to face him, the edge of his blade finds my chest, but my dagger presses flat against the delicate skin of his throat.

The fleeting surprise in his expression vanishes, replaced by solid resolve. He lowers his sword, then his free hand snakes around my waist, pulling me in until our bodies are flush against one another.

“Look at you, betrothed. Such a strong lady, are you not?”

Strong.

The word drips from his tongue like poison. My fingers tighten around my dagger, the urge to drive it right through his flesh overwhelming. I could do it—twist the blade and slit his throat. I would be killed afterwards, of course, but the dead cannot marry, and right now that sounds like the better choice.

His grip on my waist doesn’t waver, anchoring me in place as his gaze roves over my features before settling on the darkness of my hair. He lets his sword clatter to the ground, his now free hand raising to find the few strands of silver among my brown locks, gathering them between his fingers with a gentle tug. My eyes remain on his, searching for any hint of his thoughts. All I see is black taking over the violet.

The crimson gates of the Red Keep swing open, revealing a grand carriage adorned with the Velaryon sigil, its golden engraving glinting in the sunlight. Vaemond, my grandfather’s nephew, has arrived to press his claim to the Driftwood Throne.

As everyone’s focus shifts to the commotion caused by the new arrival, Aemond leans in, his breath hot against my neck. “Jiōrnon arlī, ilībōños,” he whispers before abruptly releasing me.

Welcome home, bastard.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi

I thought there was a time when jkr said there was a deleted scene where Theo and Draco talked at Malfoy Manor. Even though they weren’t friends, doesn’t this suggest that they had the most equal and respectful relationship compared to other Slytherin dynamics? What are your thoughts on this?

Hello,

Yes, she has mentioned a scene like that and I wish I could read it! Here's what she said:

Malfoy & Nott (Chamber of Secrets/Goblet of Fire) I liked this scene so much I tried to use it twice; unfortunately, it didn't work in either place so I finally laid it to rest in one of the cardboard boxes where I keep all my old drafts, notes, electricity bills and chewing gum wrappers. As in the case of Dean Thomas, I know much more about Theodore Nott than has ever appeared in the books. Raised by a very elderly widower and Death Eater father, Theodore is a clever loner who does not feel the need to join gangs, including Malfoy's. However, in this scene Theodore's father (the same Nott who was badly injured in the closing chapters of 'Order of the Phoenix') goes to visit Lucius Malfoy to discuss Voldemort-related business and we see Draco and Theodore alone in the garden having a talk of their own. I really liked the scene, firstly because it showed the Malfoys' home, and the difference between the place where Draco has grown up and number four, Privet Drive; then because we rarely see Draco talking to anybody he considers a real equal, and he is forced to see Theodore as such, because Theodore is just as pure-blooded as he is, and somewhat cleverer. Together these two Death Eaters' sons discuss Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts and Harry Potter, with all sorts of stories that the Death Eaters tell about how this baby boy survived the Dark Lord's attack.

(Source)

She outlines pretty clearly that they aren't friends. The dynamic she describes actually sounds like they don't like each other and are forced to interact because of their fathers.

I honestly love everything about Theo she said in this above passage and really fits how I portray him and his dynamic with Draco pre-fic. A Matter of Chance's situation kinda changed Theo's character trajectory and therefore his dynamic with the other Slytherins, including Draco.

This scene paints them as equal in social standing (more or less) since they are both pure-blooded enough to be in the pure-blood dictionary (written by Theo's grandpa) and the Notts are probably rich enough that Draco can't posture with his money to Theo. But she also refers to Theo as "cleverer" (which is how I write him) which implies Draco feels a little inferior to Theo, and he is "forced" to treat Theo as an equal. He doesn't like that or Theo. And I think Theo dislikes Draco and talking to him just as much (or more), considering he prefers to be a loner rather than befriend Draco.

(Also I love how she says Draco and Theo talk about Harry in that scene. I really wish I could read it)

(Also also her stuff about ghost plots, scenes, and characters that just don't work makes so much more sense to me after writing and publishing my own novel. I love how it turned out and I'm really proud of Iridescent the way it is, but I had a lot of ideas and whole characters and subplots that got scrapped because they didn't work. There were scenes I loved that were left on the cutting room floor because they didn't fit and made the story and pacing overall worse. Though some of these scenes and one of the cut characters would make an appearance in the sequel if I get my way. It's a really interesting process, honestly, and I find it doesn't happen with fic the same way since the process of writing an original novel and writing a fanfic are a little different in that regard)

[astra-ravana]

Labradorite: History And Use

Labradorite is a semi-precious feldspar mineral known for its exquisite iridenscence. It is characterized by vibrant flashes of color, which ranges from deep blues and greens, to vivid purples and pinks, to fiery oranges and golds. The enchanting play of colors in labradorite has a scientific explanation that's as fascinating as the stone itself. It's known to exhibit 'labradorescence', a phenomenon that occurs as a result of the stone's unique internal structure and the interference of light.

Labradorite's mineral composition primarily consists of a type of feldspar called anorthosite. What makes this feldspar so distinct is its lamellar structure. Within these layers, there are thin, closely spaced structures that act as barriers to the passage of light. When light enters a labradorite stone, it interacts with these structures in patterns that are necessarily parallel, producing is distinctive flashes of color, the striking display that labradorite is renowned for.

The colors produced by labradorite are not due to pigments within the stone, but rather the dispersion of light. This is similar to the way a prism splits light into its various colors. As a result, the hues in labradorite can shift and change as you view it from different angles, giving it a dynamic and captivating quality.

Understanding the science behind labradorite's iridenscence adds another layer of appreciation for this otherworldly gemstone. It's a testament to the marvels of nature and how it can create something so aesthetically stunning and intriguingly mystifying.

History

Labradorite boasts a history as enchanting as its radiant colors. While it earned its name from the Canadian province of Labrador, where it was first officially documented in the late 18th century, its roots in human culture run deep. The discovery of labradorite was a moment of awr and wonder, as early observers were captivated by the stone's iridescent flashes. However its use and significance extend far beyond its namesake region.

In ancient cultures, labradorite was considered a magickal stone with connections to the unseen world. Inuit tribes who inhabited the region where labradorite was initially found, revered it as the powerful stone that captured the Northern Lights, trapping them within its depths. The association with the Aurora Borealis gave labradorite a sacred status among Indigenous people.

As time progressed, labradorite began to make its way into other cultures' spiritual practices and traditions. It was prized by shamans and mystics for its metaphysical benefits, healing potential, and ability to enhance one's spiritual connection and insight. Labradorite was often used for divination, channeling, spirit work, crossing the veil, and more, believed to bring about a deep understanding of the Universe, spirit, and the inner self.

Labradorite's history also intersects with the world of art and jewelry. Artisans and jewelry designers recognized its captivating beauty and incorporated it into various creations. The stone was believed to ignite divine creativity in those who worked with it.

Metaphysical Uses

Labradorite is more than just a stunning gem;  it is also revered for its metaphysical properties, making it a beloved stone among mystics and those who delve into spiritual realms. These profound effects include:

• Enhanced intuition and psychic abilities- One of the most commonly attributed labradorite traits is its ability to open the Third Eye, honing one's intuition and enabling psychic ability. It is referred to as the "Stone of Magick" or the "Stone of Transformation" due to the profound experiences it can facilitate. Labradorite opens the doors to unseen realms beyond perception enabling individuals to tap into internal and external sources of wisdom to gain insights far beyond the ordinary. For those who practice psychic readings, divination, meditation, astral travel, or any kind of spirit work, labradorite makes a valuable companion. It heightens spiritual awareness, amplifies inner knowing, and aids in past life recall. This improved intuition can aid in decision making, problem solving, and understanding complex situations.

• Spiritual transformation- Labradorite is regarded as a profound catalyst for spiritual transformation and growth. It supports individuals on their spiritual journeys by deepening their connection to higher realms and expanding their spiritual awareness. This expansion can lead to profound personal and spiritual transformation. Labradorite's energy encourages introspection, inner exploration, and a heightened sense of purpose. Those who work with this magickal stone become intuned to the subtle energies of the Universe, inspiring a sense of wonder and creativity and curiosity regarding the mysteries of existence, motivating them to seek a deeper understanding of their own soul. It is a guiding light on the path of spiritual enlightenment.

• Increased synchronicity- Labradorite holds a fascinating connection to the concept of synchronicity, the occurrence of meaningful coincidences in our lives. It acts as a beacon for recognizing and interpreting these important events, offering a deep understanding of the interconnectedness of the Universe.

• Protection and aura cleansing- Labradorite is also associated with protection. It creates a shield around the aura, the energetic field that surrounds the body. This shield acts as a barrier, warding off negative or unwanted energies and influences. Furthermore, labradorite cleanses and purifies the aura of these attachments, restoring a sense of balance and harmony.

• Inspiration and artistic expression- For artists abd creatives, labradorite is a wellspring of inspiration. Its fluid energy encourages thinking outside the box and pushing the boundaries of conventional ideas. The transitioning hues within this beautiful stone evoke a sense of enchantment and wonder, igniting one's imagination and boosting creative ability.

• Relationship harmony- Labradorite is associated with fostering relationship harmony by nurturing understanding, empathy, and effective communication between people. Its energy creates an atmosphere of openness and emotional connection, which helps resolve conflicts and strengthen bonds in any type of relationship.

• Confidence and communication- Another remarkable facet of labradorite is its potential to boost self-confidence and improve communication. When you harness the energy of this stone, it empowers you to express your thoughts and ideas with clarity and conviction.

• Focus- Labradorite is a valuable tool for those seeking to elevate their focus and concentration levels. The enchanting gem clears mental fog and grants clarity making it easier to engage in tasks that require undivided attention. It assists in sharpening your mental faculties, allowing for more precise and sound decision making.

Characteristics

Hardness: 6-6.5

Mineral family: Feldspar

Crystal system: Triclinic

Sun safe: Yes

Water safe: No

Correspondences

Planet: Uranus, Moon, Neptune

Element: Air, water

Zodiac: Aquarius, Sagittarius, Scorpio

Chakra: Third Eye, Crown, Throat

Numerology: 6, 9

Herbs: Lotus, mugwort, frankincense, sage, lavender, morning glory, eyebright

"A man is like a bit of Labrador spar, which has no luster as you turn it in your hand, until you come to a particular angle; then it shows deep and beautiful colors."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

[thinkingimages]

Edith Dekyndt | Installation detail view (Slow Object 08 (2017). Arsenale, 57th Venice Biennale, Venice. Photo: Tanya Rusnak.

Edith Dekyndt presents two site specific installations. Located at the entrance of the ‘Pavilion of Time and Infinity’ in the Arsenale, there is Slow Object 08 (2017) a linen curtain covered with silver foils. This material, apparently so precious and shiny, has been chosen by the artist for its physical properties. The aesthetic of the work is affected by the passage of the visitors and, irreversibily, by the humidity and direct light that slowly oxidize the surface. The second installation is entitled One Thousand and One Nights (2016) and consists of a mantle of dust collected in situ, laid down on the floor and illuminated from above by a stream of light that moves perpetually around itself. To ensure that the projected light coincides perfectly with the area of the dusty surface beneath, an attendant is given regular task of sweeping the dust particles with a broom, for around ten minutes, once an hour, thereby inevitably raising an impalpable and iridescent cloud.

Viva Arte Viva, Arsenale, Venice Biennial 2017

[glitterguts13]

Neuvillette trying to birth eggs, but one gets stuck right as he's crowning, so all he can do is whine while feeling the others drop down? Thank you ^^

How does everyone like their eggs? Scrambled? Fried? Stuck inside an attractive man?

Sigewinne, as well as a host of books and any other material he could get his hands on, had assured Neuvillette that this was a near impossibility. Dragons, regardless of their form, had very little risk of finding themselves egg-bound. Their biology simply had evolved past that risk.

Or so he thought.

Six hours. It had been three hours since that cursed egg started to peek through his tight hole, only offering him a brief glimpse at the shimmering blue shell.

He pushed and pushed, feeling the egg slowly slipping lower, pressing against the tight muscles. He panted, cried, groaned and strained, till he finally felt the painful burn of a fully crowning egg.

A curious hand reaches between his legs, brushing over the smooth, iridescent shell. So close, so very close to having the first one out. Once that was done, the others would come easier, their passage already loosened.

However, every push ended in the same result.

Nothing.

The egg didn't budge one tiny bit.

Stuck halfway out of him, stretching him at its widest point, and refusing to move any further.

He tried to pull, but it was too smooth, his hands couldn't grasp it firmly enough to yank it free without risk of shattering it.

Still, as the hours pasted by, the reality that he just might have to break it sinks in.

There was no way of knowing at this point if this egg in particular was fertilized. It could very well be a dud, with no life inside. On the other hand, a baby dragon, small and unprepared for the world. A clear 50/50 chance of killing his own baby.

Then there was the shell itself. It was comprised of sturdy material, a great deal of force would be required to break it, and then Neuvillette would be left with the possibility of slicing himself from the inside out.

Lying on his side, one hand hooked around his thigh, keeping a leg high in the air, he runs the other hand over his swollen middle.

Four more eggs were nestled in his womb, he could feel them shifting and clinking together with each torturous contraction. A weak sob falls from his lips as one of the eggs inside of him drops down, hard and swift, cramping itself down his birth canal till it drops onto the still-stuck egg.

It's sudden, painful, and all at once he feels painfully full, screaming as another egg through his open cervix, three round, pearl-like eggs all cramped together inside his battered canal.

[noctiilio]

🌙MUGETSU AND GENGETSU CHARMS!🌙

I decided to make charms of the dream world twins! The dream children™ are on the loose and there's no way you can stop them from trying to become your friends.

Grant them safe passage into your home, and they will accompany you in your daily life!

>✨Get them here✨<

These charms:

are 3cm tall! (that's 1.1 inches!)

have different clips! Mugetsu has a moon crescent, Gengetsu has angel wings!

have an iridescent rainbow finish! try reflecting light through them! are double sided! none of the usual "blank white side of the charm"

on these!

are 15€ each!

can ship worldwide! there's no limit to the twins' friendship!

and if you get both of them, you'll get a unique, one of a kind marker doodle of them in the package as well, as a thank you for not separating the family and tearing their little hearts apart!

[thescarlettbitch]

Worshipping Inanna / Ishtar

This is an informative post about how Inanna was worshipped, or believed to be worship, back in her time, and at the end I'll share how I worship her.

Ritual sex - her high priestess would have ritual sex (whether it was true sex or symbolic is unknown) with the new king to ensure his fortune.

Gender non-conformity - her cult was primarily composed of those outside the binary, and shows men and women adopting the opposing dialect and engaging in sex with each other.

Music and art - most of her myths are in the form of Hymns, and most of her followers were artists, musicians, or dancers. Specifically, war dances would be done in her temple.

Libations - a libation is the ritualistic act of pouring a liquid offering straight from a container onto the earth. In depictions, the person doing the offering was naked.

Unfortunately, due to the passage of time, many specific rituals have been lost. I've scoured and this is really all I can find about her ancient original worship, and a lot of it is disputed because no one knows what was a metaphorical ritual or an actual ritual.

That being said, here is how I worship her in the modern day.

Self-confidence - Inanna was not one to be meek, it is said by many experts and proven in her myths that she was headstrong and didn't care how she was perceived. To honor her, I wear whatever I want. I have a very alternative style and I used to fear people looking at me. She has helped silence my worry and in turn, helped me gain confidence.

Non-conformity - I'm nonbinary, and although my femininity is a major part of my identity, so is masculinity, and so is androgyny. Learning that she had a queer cult following was so liberating, as before learning that I felt like it was wrong of me to work with her. So every little thing I do that isn't in the social construct of the gender binary is for her.

Libations - lucky for me, this is one area of her ancient worship that can be done in a modern setting. I don't have a "proper" container, I just use a normal glass. I've done it with water, coffee, tea, lemonade, and even kool-aid.

Honey/Butter cakes - in, I believe, Inanna and The God Of Wisdom, Enki welcomes her with honey/butter cakes and alcohol. I have only made a honey cake once before and it was shit, but I plan on trying again soon to combine both into a honey bourbon cake. I know they didn't have bourbon back then, but it's a local good I can find and adds a personal touch.

Self love - my fiancé lives across an ocean, so some things we can't do together (both living with family and thin walls), so to honor and worship her, self love is a great way for those in similar situations and she enjoys it from what I've seen.

Offerings - usually dates, sometimes cherries, often lemonade or tea, and more recently honey whiskey. These offerings might not be "traditional" in style, but they work for me and her. I have a small glass from an old Costco tiramisu and an iridescent bowl I got half off at our local grocery, both have an 8pointed star on them. Usually I sit them out for days at a time, or at least over night, and then either ingest them or just toss it in the trash (any other alternative isn't doable in my current situation)

Music - I listen to a variety of music with her, songs about sex, love, anger, fighting, injustice. She loves it, and if you want more detail on this I have a post about the songs on her playlist here.

Driving with the windows down - I love driving, and I feel like doing so with the windows down is an easy multitasking way to cleanse myself and invite good vibes in. Usually I do this while playing her playlist.

Making posts - it may seem a little silly, but a way I honor her is keeping her and her family alive. They are old deities, their civilizations and worshippers lived about 6,000 years ago, and some of her family have had their names lost to time. Making posts about them helps get word out, and keep them "alive".

Digital temples - I play the sims 4 and I saw someone talk about how they wanted to make a temple to their goddess in the game, so... I'm making my own. And will probably have my sims "worship" her via a club. Some people don't see this as an act of worship, but I do. As @thrashkink-coven said in this post, the gods are as modern as they are ancient. I know she enjoys it.

I will go through and make a full post detailing specific UPGs (personal practice things not backed in historical fact) with her, for anyone interested.

[nerdydaydreamer]

Chapter 32: Of Dreams and Deliverance

MASTERLIST

Summary: Plucked from her mundane life and thrust into a glass prison alongside the captured King of Dreams, Nora becomes an unlikely confidante and defiant voice in his silent torment. As a century blurs into freedom, she discovers her own impossible existence is inextricably linked to Morpheus himself, compelling them to face future challenges and rebuild his shattered realm, together.

Previous Chapter

~Beyond the Mundane~

Left alone by the fountain, Nora continued to feed the pigeons, her fingers scattering crumbs on the worn cobblestones. The fountain, an ancient stone basin adorned with moss-kissed cherubs, whispered with the ceaseless murmur of flowing water, a counterpoint to the distant hum of market chatter. The soft cooing of the birds, their iridescent feathers shimmering like scattered jewels in the golden sunlight, offered a gentle rhythm to her thoughts. But her mind wasn’t truly on the birds, nor the tantalizing scent of fresh bread and blooming jasmine that drifted from nearby stalls; it was on the man who had just disappeared Into the ivy-clad house, and the sister who accompanied him.

A warm wave spread through her chest, a familiar, comforting presence that had become as natural as her own breath. Morpheus. Her Sandy. It felt surreal, this vibrant, ordinary world after a century of glass and gloom, each sensation amplified, almost painfully vivid. But even more surreal was the man who now walked freely within it, his presence a living testament to an impossible freedom.

She remembered their first “meeting”. He, a gaunt statue of pale skin and raven hair, suspended in a glass sphere, radiating a silent, ancient fury. And she, a terrified mortal thrown into his cage, spewing curses and apologies in equal measure. Gods, had she really gone on about badgers and rusty nails to the King of Dreams? A faint, mortified smile touched her lips as a particularly bold pigeon pecked at her shoelaces.

He had been so unreadable then, a being of cosmic power held captive, his eyes twin pools of midnight and starlight, blazing with cold fury. She had seen only his stoicism, his immense, contained grief, a sorrow so vast it seemed to consume the very air around him. But over the long, silent decades, as their minds became interwoven, a delicate, almost imperceptible process like two separate streams merging into one, she had seen so much more.

She recalled the time she had described a particularly chaotic dream involving a flock of sentient teacups demanding to be served Earl Grey by a badger wearing a top hat; she’d felt the distinct flicker of amusement in the depths of his being, a ripple in the calm surface of his endless composure. Or the rare, soft chuckle that echoed not just in her mind, but seemed to vibrate through her very bones, a sound she cherished like a hidden treasure. When the phantom ache in her elbow from the glass sphere became too much, a gentle touch, cool yet comforting, would brush against it in their shared mental space, a wordless balm. He had listened to her fears of forgotten family, her mundane worries about the passage of time, and her deeply personal confessions about her own insignificance, offering insights in return that resonated with a quiet wisdom.

He had shared his own ancient burdens, his regrets, the complex, often fraught relationships with his family, particularly the elusive siblings. He had grown… softer. Not weak, never weak, but capable of a tenderness, an unguarded affection she once would have thought impossible for a being of his stature. He was still the King of Dreams, formidable and ancient, but now, he was her King, and he bore the indelible mark of their shared existence, a brand of warmth she wouldn’t trade for anything.

A plump pigeon landed on the edge of the fountain, cocking its head at her. Nora’s gaze drifted to the house where Death, Morpheus’s sister, had just entered. She remembered Morpheus’s description of her: gentle, not the harbinger of terror mortals imagined. And seeing her just now, amidst the vibrant life of the market, Nora felt a  rightness in his description. Death wore simple black jeans and a tank top, an ankh resting against her collarbone. Her eyes, bright and kind, held a wisdom, but none of the chilling finality Nora had once associated with her name. She was indeed soft, almost radiant in her presence.

And duty bound, Death arrived for Roderick Burgess. But the rune circle, an unyielding void, shielded Nora and Morpheus, creating a blind spot in existence that even Death's gaze couldn't pierce. A genuine sorrow filled Death at her inability to free Morpheus, a regret that mirrored Nora's own heartache.

Now, watching the house they had entered, Nora pictured them inside, not just the King of Dreams and Death, but a brother and sister. There was a quiet understanding between them, a shared history that transcended words. Morpheus, usually so reserved, seemed lighter in Death’s presence. A flicker of something akin to familial comfort, a rare glimpse into a bond that had existed for eons. He had mentioned Death’s insistence on family dinners, a detail that had softened his rigid demeanor even then. Family dinners. Even cosmic beings had those. The notion brought a gentle smile to her face.

A warmth settled over Nora as the pigeons continued to flutter around her feet. This unlikely journey, born of fear and desperation, had led her to a place of belonging, a connection with beings she once could only dream of. And in the quiet understanding that passed between her and Morpheus, and in the gentle presence of his sister, Death, Nora realized she wouldn’t trade this strange, unpredictable life for anything. She smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile, as she scattered the last of the crumbs, waiting patiently for their return.

A few minutes later, Morpheus and Death exited the house, stepping out into the late afternoon light. Death looked no different than when she had entered, her vibrant, cheerful presence unwavering. Morpheus, however, carried a slightly more contemplative look on his face, his gaze distant for a moment, as if still processing the echoes of their conversation inside. His eyes held a flicker of introspection, a quiet storm brewing behind them.

Nora, who had instinctively turned to watch their emergence, offered him a soft, questioning smile, her eyebrows subtly arched. Morpheus met her gaze, and a confirming nod, almost imperceptible to anyone but her, was given. A soft thought, like a gentle caress, brushed against her mind: Yes, I’m okay. The unspoken exchange, a silent reassurance, settled between them. Nora then turned back, continuing on her path, a little ahead, allowing the siblings their private space.

Morpheus walked beside his sister, his usual measured pace matching hers. The bustling market around them seemed to dim slightly as he spoke, his voice a low, resonant murmur, almost lost in the cheerful clamor. “When I was captured,” he began, his gaze fixed straight ahead, “it wasn’t me they were looking for.”

Death slowed her steps imperceptibly, her bright eyes softening, the playful glint replaced by sorrow. She turned her head towards Morpheus, her expression etched with ancient pain. “Yeah, I know,” she breathed, her voice a fragile whisper. “I still regret that I could not reach you then, brother. It haunts me, the thought of your suffering, the years you spent in that wretched cage.” A deep sigh escaped her, a sound heavy with the weight of eons. She reached out, her hand hovering, then gently touched his arm, a gesture of empathy. “But know this, my dear brother,” she continued, her voice gaining a quiet intensity, “if it had been me they sought, if I had been the one ensnared… the consequences for the waking world would have been far, far worse.” Her gaze became distant, as if she were seeing the horrific panorama of what could have been. “Life would have choked on its own un-ending. There would have been no release, only an agonizing, eternal stasis, a horror beyond measure. The tapestry of existence would have unraveled in utter chaos, a slow, torturous decay where nothing truly died and nothing truly lived.”

Morpheus, who had grown emotionally, especially since sharing a mind with Nora and gaining her perspective on a myriad of things, understood where she was coming from. The rigid adherence to cosmic law, the terrible necessity of their functions, resonated with him in a way it never had before. He saw the truth in her words, the grim reality of her burden. He surprised Death, truly surprised her, by saying, “I agree with you.”

A beat of astonished silence passed between them. Death’s eyes, wide with disbelief and then a blossoming wonder, fixed on him. Her hand, still resting on his arm, trembled slightly. Morpheus, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his dark eyes, continued, his voice softer now, imbued with an unexpected warmth. “My absence caused chaos, yes, and suffering, but humanity is resilient. They would, eventually, find a way to adapt, to recover, even if the dreams shifted and reshaped. But if you were gone, sister… there would be no recovery. Only that endless, suffocating existence you spoke of. The true end of all things, not just life, but the very concept of an ending.” He paused, his gaze meeting hers fully. “And if it wasn’t for that… I wouldn’t have met Nora.”

The words hung in the air, a declaration of quiet gratitude that transcended the pain of his capture. Death’s face, already softened by surprise, suddenly broke into an incandescent, radiant smile. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated joy for her brother. Her eyes, so deep with the understanding of all life, sparkled with an almost childlike delight. With a happy gasp, she reached out, abandoning all decorum, and grabbed his hand. Her fingers laced with his, and then, with an exuberance that belied her ancient power, she began to swing their clasped hands gently, playfully, between them as they continued to walk, a silent testament to a bond renewed and a future brightened by an unexpected love.

A low, resonant chuckle, rumbled in Morpheus’s chest at his sister’s uninhibited delight, a genuine amusement lighting his dark gaze. At the sound, Death’s already radiant smile widened impossibly, her eyes brimming with an almost tearful happiness. This was more than just amusement; this was genuine joy emanating from her brother, a flicker of true, unburdened delight. It was a sound she had longed to hear for eons, a testament to a thawing heart, and in that moment, she knew, with an absolute certainty, that Nora was the architect of this beautiful, impossible change.

-

Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! 🩷

Next Chapter

[roguesnezblog]

Did a fic for a change, woo hoo! And some art. I been practicing some writing lately. 642 words. A very short fic. But Im just testing the waters right now.

As Demetrius, the storm giant, roamed through the ancient woods, the ground trembled beneath his feet. He moved with an imposing yet graceful presence, He was a force of nature, towering among the trees. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows across his massive form. As he walked, his foot struck a cluster of mushrooms nestled in the underbrush, the impact releasing a cloud of iridescent spores that shimmered in the light they swirling into the air, dancing around him like a glistening fog.

The impact sent a cloud of spores inhaling deeply, he took in the spores without a thought, only to be met with an overwhelming irritation in his enormous nasal passages. The moment they touched the sensitive membranes, an irritation flared to life within him. A deep, insistent buzzing ignited within, spreading like wildfire. The tickling quickly intensified, forcing him to fight for control as it built with every passing second. His nostrils flared wide as the sensation grew, a primal urge that took hold of him. A powerful tickle that made his breath hitch unexpectedly. Each breath became a long, torturous hitch, desperate and shaky, as the irritation twisted through him. "Hh-heh!" His nostrils expanded, the delicate skin turning a shade deeper as the sensation became almost unbearable.

His body responded violently to the building pressure; muscles in his massive frame spasmed and twitched, almost reeling with stimulation. The sensation was relentless, pulling rigid every fiber of his being. Each hitch drew in more air, filling his lungs as he fought against the onslaught that threatened to consume him.

“Hh…h-hEh...”

He felt his chest swell with the intensity of his hitches, a rhythm of longing mixed with frustration.  He could feel the sting radiating throughout his sinuses, like static electricity crackling just beneath the surface. Each hitch of breath drew in more spores, further stoking the heat behind his eyes. His chest heaved with desperation, each inhale longer and more strained as he tried to stave off the inevitable.

“H…Hdh HhehHDh!”

The world around him blurred as he focused solely on the urge to sneeze coursing through his body. Demetrius could feel the tension coiling within him, and his eyes began to water from the overwhelming sensations.

“Hh…HEHdh!…”

His muscles tightened, rippling under his dark skin as he struggled to hold back the inevitable release. But it was futile. The pressure continued to roil threatening to explode. He clenched his jaw, resisting, but to no avail. His breath came in sharp, wavering gasps, each one a prelude to the monumental release that was incoming. The air crackled with energy and the longer he resisted, the more the torment clawed at him, pushing him to the brink.

“Hhuh…HhEH!…hHHedHH!”

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, until at last, the dam broke. He could no longer contain it. With a final, involuntary, drawn-out intake of breath, The world erupted around him and Demetrius let out a tremendous sneeze:

“HhrEH'RSSHHUhHh!!!!”

The sound rolled through the forest like a cataclysmic roar, shaking the very ground beneath him, a force of nature that reverberated across the landscape. Lightning arced from his explosion in a brilliant flash that illuminated the forest in stark contrast, the magic of his release scorched the landscape, splintering wood and igniting foliage in a fierce blaze. The air crackled with energy, and the dirt cracked below his feet as the raw power of his sneeze surged forth.

In the aftermath, Demetrius stood panting, the echoes of his loud sneeze fading into the air and trees blackened, seared and plants around him smoking in a spectacular display of destruction. His body trembled with residual energy. His breath slowly returned to normal as he blinked at at the charred remnants of the forest a testament to the raw power he possessed—a storm unleashed by a single, desperate moment.