#Iron Blossom Festival

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

News/Announcements: Richmond, VA's Iron Blossom Festival Announces Inaugural Lineup

News/Announcements: Richmond, VA's Iron Blossom Festival Announces Inaugural Lineup @VisitRichmond @CityRichmondVA @StarrHillPrsnts @IMGoingEvents @ironblossomrva @grandstandhq

Festival season is right around the corner. And you know what that means — more festival announcements. So let’s get to it. Yesterday Starr Hill Presents, Haymaker Productions, IMGoing Events, and Lovely Day Presents announced the inaugural Iron Blossom Music Festival. The inaugural edition of the festival will take place August 26, 2023 – August 27, 2023 in Richmond, VA‘s Monroe Park. Located…

[ladyantiheroine]

I just saw Hozier live at Iron Blossom Festival and HE BROUGHT NOAH KAHAN ON STAGE!!!!

[devonsaurusrex]

Being able to get tickets to see Noah Kahan this summer in my hometown has me more exited than I’ve been in quite a while

[lovesosweeet]

new tradition: turn all my shows from the previous year into a tour poster 🫶🏻 whenever i move into a new place i’ll get these printed and framed but for now they live digital lives.

also RIP to my rainbow kitten surprise tickets bc the concerts were all cancelled </3

[desertpups]

Looking forward to playing @ironblossomrva this August 27th in Monroe Park, Richmond!

For tickets visit ironblossom.frontgatetickets.com

[heathrly]

Hozier at the Iron Blossom Festival, Richmond VA, 8/27/23

[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

!!! This chapter contains dialogue in High Valyrian, which will be designated by bold and italics...enjoy :)

A week had slipped away since Jaenara and her family had settled into King’s Landing. She found herself passing time by discussing plans for the upcoming coronation with her mother or entertaining little Aegon and Viserys. Occasionally, she rode out on dragonback with Baela and Rhaena, savoring the freedom of the skies above. When she was up amongst the clouds, the princess forgot all about what her life had become down below. Sitting atop Aetherion, it was as if nothing else mattered.

Yet above all, Jaenara found herself occupied with a careful dance of avoidance whenever Aemond Targaryen crossed her path. She had escaped several close calls, ducking into unoccupied rooms whenever she saw the prince at the other side of a hallway. Jaenara had often wondered to herself if she could continue to keep up this game of cat and mouse well into their marriage, but the prospect of having to constantly hide from the man who was to be her husband did sadden her. Ever so slightly. 

Currently, the princess found herself in the castle gardens walking shoulder to shoulder with Helaena. Jaenara had not had as much alone time with her aunt as she would have liked, and was eager to reconnect with the one member of the Targaryen-Hightowers she could actually stand to be around. Helaena seemed to be pleased with the company, though it was difficult for Jaenara to tell at times. Her aunt had always been a somewhat emotionally distant person, even when they were children.

“My mother tells me that the planning for Rhaenyra’s coronation is almost finished?” Helaena inquires.

Jaenara and Jacaerys had both been closely involved with the planning of their mother’s name day ceremony. The preparations had proven to be stressful, even now plaguing the princess’ mind. Temporary discomfort is a small price to pay for mother to sit the Iron Throne - Jaenara had told herself. Though, she could not say she felt the same way about the looming, permanent discomfort she would soon find herself in…

Rhaenyra had even tried to include Aegon in the ceremony planning as well. An offering for the position he had given up for his older sister. Though he had seemed less than interested, opting to disappear for hours at a time instead. Even now, Jaenara wondered where her uncle often took off to, leaving her sweet aunt and their children alone. She questioned if she would be condemned to such a fate as well - Aemond fluttering about doing gods know what while she was left to care for their babes alone. The princess decides it is best not to mull over such depressing possibilities that she may soon enough find herself in.

“Yes, her name day will be here before we know it - just a short week away. Though I find myself anxious about the festivities.” Jaenara finally responds. 

“I understand,” Helena breathes, “I am not one for crowds either.”

“Well then we must stick together until the whole ordeal is over.” Jaenara reassures her aunt. And herself.

“I would gladly,” Helaena giggles, “Though when your wedding day arrives, my brother will stand at your side, not I."

Jaenara sighed - another formality she had been dreading heavily. She’d venture to guess that the moment her mother’s name day passes, planning for the wedding will begin immediately. The princess knew that her scarcity of interactions with Aemond would not last for much longer. Not if either of their mothers could help it. 

Jaenara felt she had little to discuss with her betrothed. What else was there to say?

Helaena came to a halt, bending down to pick up a large, green beetle. Jaenara winced - she had never been one for bugs, save for the pretty butterflies she had often chased with her aunt in their youth. She watched as the beetle began to travel up Helaena’s arm. Jaenara found that Helaena looked serene, her blonde-white hair picked up by the breeze and a content smile on her lips. The princess decides to take advantage of the peaceful moment to ask her aunt a troubled question.

“What is it like? Being married, that is.” Jaenara’s face grows serious.

Helaena removes the beetle from her forearm with a gentle touch and places it on a leaf below.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything,” She says, though her aunt does not sound particularly bothered by the dreary thought, “Aegon does not pay me much mind. Save for the times we have…done our duty.”

Jaenara clears her throat awkwardly.

“So, I suppose it is not so bad. I am free to do as I please. As he is. Though I think Aemond will make a better lover.” Helaena finishes. Jaenara looks at her aunt as if she has three heads and scoffs. She looks back at the princess with a coy look on her face.

“What a terrifying thought.” Jaenara sounds defeated as the two women resume their walk. A calm silence passes over them once again, as does the gentle breeze.  

Helaena looks as though someone is speaking to her and finds herself gazing up at the sky for a moment - and then to her niece.

She smiles, as if the clouds have told her a secret.

— — —

On the far side of the Red Keep, The One Eyed Prince begins to lay the groundwork of his plan to put his soon-to-be wife on the Iron Throne. Aemond has decided he must get in the good graces of his family - especially Jacaerys - if he is to carry out familicide without raising any suspicion that he had a hand in it. Something easier said than done, Aemond knows. Any amount of decency he could afford the heir and his brother would be met with scrutiny. A few kind words will not undo years of victimization dealt on both sides. 

Aemond clenches his jaw as he searches for his nephews throughout the grounds of the Red Keep. Locating them had proven to be challenging, though not as much as finding their sister. Aemond knew that Jaenara had been purposefully avoiding him. One evening, he had even caught sight of her ducking into her mother’s chambers when he had turned a corner, entering the same hallway as her. Her elusion frustrated the prince. If he could not speak to the princess and build up a rapport with her, then she would assuredly be the first to point her finger at him when news of Jace’s murder came about.  

Just when Aemond is about to give up entirely, he spots Jacaerys and Lucerys in the training yard, wooden swords in hand. Aemond lurks back for a moment, watching them practice their drills. Their moves are quick and calculated, proving that his nephews had become even more skilled fighters during their time away from the Red Keep. Though their moves had a certain unrefined quality to them. Aemond finally moves from his spot, drawing nearer to the princes. Lucerys spots him first and mumbles a curse under his breath, as hid older brother turns to meet Aemond’s eyes. Aemond smirks at the boys, and he can tell it takes all of Jace’s strength not to throw down his play sword and saunter off. 

The prince stands tall over his nephews, to hide the uneasiness he feels about approaching them. He’s pulled his long, sleek hair into a bun. His own sword, a practice blade worn smooth from countless hours of swinging, hung loose at his side

The air is tense around the group and a short silence hangs over them. Clanking of wood and metal and grunts fills the yard as the princes all stare at each other.

Aemond finally clears his throat and breaks the quiet.

"You're both too cautious," he remarks in a voice that carries authority but also a hint of patience. "Don't overthink your strikes. Let them flow naturally. It's about instinct as much as it is about technique."

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You must think of us as fools, uncle. Why would we listen to you? You do not practice the habit of fighting honorably - Luke and I’ve both seen that.”

And what would you know about fighting honorably? Aemond remarks to himself.

Where is the honor in gouging out a boy’s eye? 

He inhales a deep breath to calm his rising frustration.

Lucerys, ever the more reserved of the two, held his ground but watched Aemond with a cautious curiosity.

Aemond knows he should not make the jest, but before he can stop himself, the words fall from his smug mouth.

“Fools? No - I only see two Strong boys before me.” 

Both of the brother’s harden their gaze. This time, Jacaerys does take off, with Luke trailing behind.

Fuck.

“But!” Aemond is quick to add to his lecture, desperate to keep the boys where they are, “Honor in battle is not always as straightforward as the songs would have it. There are times when survival demands unconventional measures.”

“And how,” Jace has stopped and turned to face his uncle once more, “would you know anything of a real battle?”

“You forget I train with Ser Criston Cole.” “You forget we trained with Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond chooses to bite back another remark about how - despite training with one of the realm’s most formidable soldiers, the brother’s still lacked the necessary knowledge and skills.

Instead, he walks back towards their place in the yard and motions for the Velaryons to follow him. Jace stares at him a moment, lets out an exaggerated huff and mutters, “Come on, Luke.”

At their return, Aemond demonstrates a quick feint, his movements precise. “You’re signaling your intent with your movements, Jacaerys. And Lucerys, you hesitate before every strike. Be bold, but calculated. Like this," he continued, demonstrating a fluid series of strikes and blocks. Luke, with a touch of reservation, takes up a fighting stance in front of his older brother.

Aemond nodded approvingly. "Let's try it again. And this time, don't hold back."

For the remainder of the afternoon, Aemond guided them through drills and techniques, offering pointers in between bouts. Slowly, the initial wariness between the boys and the Targaryen prince faded, replaced by a grudging respect for his skill and knowledge.

When the sun had begun to dip into the horizon, the three young heirs sheathed their swords. Aemond found a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. He did not find any joy in the times he sparred with Aegon, which had been few and far between lately. His brother had no real interest in learning and bettering his skills. And Criston Cole was becoming predictable - through no fault of his own. Aemond simply had no one else to spar with that was anywhere near his level. He found unexpected fulfillment in teaching his nephews.

Jace finally deposits his wooden sword with the others in the training yard, Luke following suit. 

With a huff and an expression that makes the prince seem physically pained he tells his uncle, “Well. That was rather…I did not think I’d ever see the day where you would give us any kind of genuine advice. Nevertheless, I am…grateful for your counsel uncle.” 

“Yes. Thank you, Aemond.” Lucerys adds curtly.

Aemond gives them a nod as acknowledgment.

Naive fools.

With that, Jace and Luke begin their journey back into the Red Keep. Aemond watches the boys stride away side by side. He almost resigns himself to turning in for the day, when a thought suddenly enters his mind. 

“Do you know where I might find your sister?” He calls after them. 

Jace remains silent continuing his walk. Aemond rolls his eyes.

She has sworn them to secrecy.

Lucerys seems to take some sort of pity on his uncle after their shared afternoon - much to the dismay of Jace, “I think she spoke of spending time in the gardens…” the younger brother’s sentence trails off when he sees the look Jacaerys gives him. 

Aemond nods gratefully, though no one sees it, and sets off towards the gardens, his mind already racing. He knew spending time with Jaenara was another crucial part of his plan he needed to begin sowing the seeds for. As much as she may detest it.

The believed that if he could convincingly pretend to be infatuated with his niece, to the extent that she truly believed his feelings were genuine, it might help divert suspicion away from him regarding her brother’s eventual murder. She may even come to defend him, when the time comes. Though this would prove to be a challenge.

“You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love” Aemond’s own words from her first evening back at King’s Landing echoed in his mind.

Aemond lets out a frustrated groan and picks up his pace.

When he reaches the gardens, Aemond finds Jaenara and his sister seated on a weathered stone bench in deep discourse, while their ladies-in-waiting linger nearby, amusing themselves.

The distant laughter of the two maidens surprises Aemond and stirs a hint of a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time his sister had laughed so freely. It was then, he realized, he had never heard Jaenara genuinely laugh. Everything she let out in his presence was nothing more that a scoff or dry laugh. This, he thought, was a nice change of pace. Happiness suited her.

I should leave them. Aemond’s resolve falters for a moment, and he pivots for a swift and silent retreat. Yet, his sister catches sight of him before he can vanish.

"Aemond!" Helaena's voice rings out, compelling him to sigh and reluctantly turn back to face them.

Helaena's eyes glint with mischief as she waves a hand, beckoning him over. Meanwhile, the fleeting smile on Jaenara's face vanishes, replaced by an indifferent gaze.

"Aemond," his sister greets again, her tone laced with curiosity. "Where have you been?"

"Just sparring with your brothers," Aemond replies, his gaze drifting towards Jaenara.

The surprise in Jaenara's eyes is evident and impossible to conceal.

"With Jace and Luke?" she questions, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You seem…unscathed. I trust the same can be said for my brothers?"

"It was just a training session - nothing if not civil. I only meant to give them a bit of advice," Aemond responds, a smirk playing upon his lips.

Helaena suddenly springs to her feet. "I don’t believe you two have had many opportunities to speak as of late. I will leave you to catch up" she suggests, a faraway look on her face. "I must attend to the children." Her lady-in-waiting follows closely behind as she departs.

Jaenara starts to rise, offering to assist, but Helaena insists she stay. Aemond can't help but conceal his amusement at Jaenara’s desperate state.

The princess exhales sharply and resumes her promenade through the gardens, without so much as a glance over her shoulder at Aemond. With a huff, he follows behind her, as her lady-in-waiting mirrors.

The prince wishes he could dismiss the attendant, wishing for a moment alone with Jaenara to speak without restraint. 

He thinks of another solution.

Aemond peers down at his niece and lets High Valyrian fall freely from his lips.

“You have been avoiding me.” 

Jaenara does not remove her eyes from the path in front of her.

“You have not sought me out.” She retorts, her tone cool and collected. Aemond lights up. He had not expected his niece to be fluent in their mother tongue, and hearing her voice enunciate the ancient words caused something unknown inside of him to stir. 

“I am now,” he replies evenly, “ And I have to say, I had not expected you to be so fluent in Valyrian. Not even my brother speaks it so well. That idiot can barely piece together a single sentence.” 

Jaenara laughs, “I am a Targaryen. Every Targaryen should speak their language. Understand their history.”

Aemond nods, “Something we can agree on, niece. Though I have to say, you speak it better than I thought a-”

“Then a bastard would?” Her words are laced with a bittersweet acknowledgment that catches Aemond off guard. His niece had never spoken the truth of her parentage in front of him - or anyone for that matter. In truth, Aemond found him unsettled from her acquiescence. Though he understood the only reason she dared to acknowledge the truth now, is because no one around them had a clue what she was saying. 

“You’re not laughing, uncle. Very unlike you - you who never passes up an opportunity to remind me of my blood.” Jaenara still seemed unfazed, her attention drifting to a cluster of blue irises at their feet. She bends gracefully to touch the silky petals, and Aemond finds himself captivated by the way her dark hair spills like a cascade of black silk over the blossoms. He clears his throat.

“You are to be my…ābrazȳrys (wife). I no longer wish to humiliate you over things out of your control, such as your parentage.” Aemond’s voice is steady and controlled, betraying his inner turmoil over making such remarks.

Jaenara lets out a laugh, though it sounds hollow. Much unlike the laughter she had shared with his sister. Her lady-in-waiting shifts uncomfortably behind them. “Actions speak louder than words, Aemond.” The princess rises from her spot amongst the flowers, turning to face her betrothed.

Aemond is filled with a stubborn determination at hearing her challenge, and takes a few steps towards her - until he can feel his niece’s breath fan over him. He stares down at her, and finds that he enjoys how she does not shrink under his gaze.

“Pār nyke jāhor gaomagon.” - Then I will act.

Jaenara laughs again, but it is quickly put to an end.

“I do not know why you laugh, Jaenara. I am being sincere.” His gaze is hard. 

She considers his words for a moment, and turns back to the garden path. The princess returns to the common tongue. 

"Come along, it is growing darker," Jaenara says, her voice carrying a hint of finality as she resumes their journey along the garden path. Aemond follows silently, his mind still processing the weight of their conversation. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the estate grounds, while a cool evening breeze stirs the leaves of ancient trees. When the couple finally reach the stone archways and paths of the Red Keep, Aemond speaks up once more. 

“You will have breakfast with me. Tomorrow” It is not a question, though his tone remains soft..

“I will?” Jaenara asks, an eyebrow raised in defiance.

“This is me taking action.” He offers her a wry smile.

Jaenara exhales and looks to her handmaiden, who skillfully avoids her gaze. “Fine. I will see you in the morning” She stomps off to her chambers, lady-in-waiting trailing behind. The princess does not get to see the small, honest smile that settles on Aemond’s lips. 

— — —

Early the next morning, Jaenara awakes to a polite knock on her chamber door. Alora, her lady-in-waiting, entered cautiously, offering a sheepish greeting. "Good morning, Your Grace."

The princess rubbed her eyes wearily and yawned. "Good morning, Alora. And please, call me Jaenara when it is just us. No need for formality in the privacy of these chambers." she replied with a tired attempt at a smile.

"Oh! Yes, my lady—I mean, Jaenara," Alora stumbled over her words, feeling conflicted over addressing a princess so casually. "Um... Aemond - the prince - sent me to assist you with dressing. He wishes to have breakfast with you?" She sounds uncertain.

Jaenara sighed lightly and pushed herself to her feet. "Very well. Let's not keep him waiting," she said, giving Alora a reassuring glance.

Alora deftly combs out Jaenara's long, ebony hair, swiftly braiding half of it and letting the rest fall down her back. As the princess gradually awakened, she engaged in light conversation with the younger girl, easing her nerves. 

With gentle assistance, Alora helped Jaenara into a splendid dress—its upper half a deep shade of black, its lower half a rich crimson. The sleeves were wrought with golden embroidery. Once satisfied with her handiwork, Alora guided Jaenara to the dining room, where Aemond awaited their arrival.

“Thank you, Alora. I think that will be all for now.” The princess smiles at her lady, dismissing her. Jaenara hesitantly pulls out a chair across from Aemond.

“Good morning.” She offers. An honest attempt at niceties. 

Aemond hums, sounding pleased. “Good morning.”

It remains quiet for a while, as the two begin to serve themselves and take a few bites of the breakfast that has been prepared. The prince steals glances at his niece, observing how her dark curls frame her face. Watching her spoon her food gracefully. Noting how her dress clings to her.

At last, Aemond ventured to break the quiet. “That dress suits you well.”

The princess pauses her cutting of a sausage. Jaenara had not expected to hear that kind of comment so early in the morning. And no less from Aemond of all people. She narrows her eyes at him.

“What?” She asks, as if offended.

Aemond pauses, mid-bite. “I only meant it as a compliment. The Targaryen colors agree with you.” 

Jaenara continues with her meal, deciding that pretending as though she had not heard her uncle was the best course of action.

Why did he say that? Does he mean to mock me?

The prince breaks the silence once more, wanting to change the subject. "I hear your mother's name day preparations have been finalized."

Jaenara swallows a mouthful of food and clears her throat. “Um…yes. I believe so. Everything should be in place by now. The ceremony will be in…five days? I believe.”

"My mother seems unusually eager for the occasion," Aemond remarked. "She and Rhaenyra have been quite chatty lately."

“You’ve noticed too?”

“It is hard not to.” Aemond admitted.

Jaenara shrugs, “True enough. Well, they seem happier anyway.”

Aemond only hums in agreement. “My mother, although…she seems to be even more excited about the wedding than the coronation ceremony.”

Jaenara sputtered on the ale served alongside their meal.

A smug grin spread across the prince's face.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asks as nonchalantly as she can. 

“Oh yes,” Aemond sounds amused, “I hear her and Rhaenyra have taken to planning a few things.”

"What!?" Now Jaenara could not hide her surprise. Her outburst drew the attention of nearby servants, and Aemond grinned at her fluttering.

“Um - I only meant. I had not known they were already planning the ceremony.” She finished, dabbing a napkin to the corners of her mouth.

“Well someone has to. We certainly have not spoken about it.” Aemond remarks.

Jaenara almost feels guilty. She searches Aemond’s eyes for any indication of regret or sadness over their lack of time together. 

“Well then…what would you like to discuss about it?” The princess makes an attempt to turn to the matter.

Aemond considers the question. “What kind of cake would you like?”

Jaenara lets out a true laugh at that, catching Aemond off guard.

“If I must tell you,” She says while catching her breath, “I am fond of lemon pastries.”

Aemond makes a noise of agreement. He recalls that her mother favors the sweets as well. “Then we shall have them.”

Jaenara looks up from her meal and the couple lock eyes. She stares intently into his, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. 

What are you doing, uncle? She is left to wonder. Jaenara feels a crack begin to form in the walls she had put up to keep Aemond out. But the fracture is filled as quickly as it appears when she considers that Aemond is simply playing his part. Putting up a charade. The princess looks at the man before her, and can only seem to remember the cruelties that he has dealt. Her heart hardens.

"Why do you care?" she questioned, her tone accusatory. Despite their heartfelt conversation in the garden the day before, Jaenara only continued in her struggle to believe in her uncle's sincerity.

“Because I want to care.” Aemond is taken aback, though he makes an effort to sound earnest.

The princess scoffs and takes a swig of ale. She rises to her feet.

“I am full.” she declares, signaling an end to the meal and perhaps to their conversation. Jaenara stands and walks the length of the table, drawing near to the door but coming close to Aemond.

That strikes a chord within the prince, “You are about as stubborn as a damn mule,” he mutters under his breath.

The retort is not lost upon the princess’ ears. Jaenara spun around abruptly, facing her uncle where he was currently still seated. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Damn it," Aemond whispered to himself, closing his eyes briefly. 

“And here I thought you were being truthful yesterday when you said you no longer meant to belittle me.” She bites.

Some unseen force compelled Aemond onward. He reached out and gently but firmly grasped his niece's wrist.

"I only meant..." He struggled to find the right words. "Gods, you're infuriating."

Jaenara felt a stirring within her at his touch, but she pushed the sensation aside, focusing instead on his words. "I’m infuriating?" 

Now, Aemond raises his voice. “Yes! Infuriating. I am making a sincere effort to get to know you, and I am met with nothing but resistance. There is nothing we can do to change the marriage we will soon find ourselves in,” He rises from his chair, hand still gripped around Jaenara, “but I am making a sincere attempt to make it more bearable. For you.”

A part of Aemond understood that his words were primarily to uphold a facade, to maintain the illusion of feigned interest in his niece. Yet another part of him recognized sincerity in his sentiments. He couldn't help but feel pity for Jaenara. This thought had crossed his mind repeatedly—in the quiet of his chambers, in the stillness of the night, and even yesterday as he watched her depart from the estate gardens. She had undoubtedly drawn the short straw amidst their betrothal.

Jaenara Velaryon was being forced to marry Aemond, a scarred and flawed second son by his own reckoning. While Aemond had initially perceived the proposal of marriage to his own bastard niece as an insult, he couldn't deny the faint attraction he harbored towards her— a sentiment he was certain she did not reciprocate. 

The princess regarded her uncle with a peculiar mix of curiosity and contemplation, allowing his words to sink in. Jaenara's relationship with her uncle had always been incredibly strained — tense. Yet, as she observed the furrow in his brow and the genuine anguish in his eyes, she sensed a truth in his earnest plea. She reflected on her initial hopes—that they might spend their lives avoiding each other, barely exchanging words. Yet, standing before him now, she reconsidered. If Aemond—of all people—could muster some semblance of kindness, however feigned, Jaenara resolved she could reciprocate. Even if it was nothing but a lie. 

For in the convoluted dance of courtly alliances and familial expectations, sometimes even the semblance of civility could hold more weight than honesty in securing fragile peace.

With hesitant resolve, she reached out, gently clasping his hand in hers. Aemond feels goosebumps form on his skin from the additional contact. 

"Aemond," she began quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. He makes an effort to memorize how his name sounds on her lips.

Gods be damned, he thought. 

"I apologize. I hadn't fully appreciated your efforts. You are right. For this marriage to have any chance of contentment and peace, we must find common ground. We must make an effort to get to know each other."

The princess finished her apology, her words hanging in the air between them. All Aemond could manage in response was a silent nod, fearing that his mouth would betray him if he were to open it.

Jaenara withdrew her hand from his with a slight hesitation. "Well…I should be going. I intend to meet with my mother to discuss our impending wedding. There is much to plan," she added, her voice faltering slightly as she hurried out of the room.

Aemond stood there, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He glanced down at the hand that had briefly held his niece's, flexing his fingers thoughtfully, a mixture of uncertainty and determination swirling within him.

A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is structured a little differently! I decided to make these changes for narrative purposes/so everything flows better. Because of this, I will be revising the previous two chapters, so the next chapter may take a little longer to come out (I also have a job interview coming up, so I will be doing a lot more than just brainstorming and writing now T-T) Anyways! As always, thank you for reading :)

Tags: @toodlesxcuddles

[greenwitchcrafts]

October 2023 witch guide

Full moon: October 28th

New moon: October 14th

Sabbats: Samhain

October Hunter's Moon

Known as: Blood moon, drying rice moon, falling leaf moon, freezing moon, migrating moon, moon of the changing seasons, shedding moon, ten colds moon, winterfelleth & windermanoth

Element: Air

Zodiac: Libra & Scorpio

Nature spirits: Frost faeries & Plant faeries

Deities: Apollo, Astarte, Belili, Cernunnos, Demeter, Hathor, Herne, Horned God, Ishtar, Kore, Lakshmi & Mercury

Animals: Elephant, jackal, ram, scorpion & stag

Birds: Crow, heron & robin

Trees: Acacia, apple, cypress & yew

Herbs/Plants: Angelica, apple blossom, burdock, catnip, pennyroyal, sweet Annie, thyme & Uva ursi

Flowers: Calendula, cosmos & marigold

Scents: Apple blossom, cherry & strawberry

Stones: Amethyst, beryl, obsidian, opal, tourmaline & turquoise

Colors: Black, dark blue, Dark greens & purples

Energy: Artistic works, balance, creativity, harmony, inner cleansing, justice, karma, legal matters, mental stimulation, partnerships, reincarnation & uncovering mysteries or secrets

It is believed that this name originates from the fact that it was a signal for hunters to prepare for the upcoming cold winter by going hunting. This is because animals were beginning to fatten up in preparation for the winter season. Moreover, since fields had recently been cleared out under the Harvest Moon, hunters could easily spot deer and other animals that had come out to search for remaining scraps. Additionally, foxes and wolves would also come out to prey on these animals.

The earliest use of the term “Hunter’s Moon,” cited in the Oxford English Dictionary, is from 1710. Some sources suggest that other names for the Hunter’s Moon are the Sanguine or Blood Moon, either associated with the blood from hunting or the color of the changing autumn leaves. 

Samhain

Also known as: All Hallow's Eve,  Ancestor Night, Feast of Apples, Feast of Sam-fuim, Feast of Souls, Feast of the Dead, Geimhreadh, Hallowmass, Martinmass, Old Hallowmas, Pagan New Year, Samana, Samhuinn, Samonios, Shadowfest & Third Harvest

Season: Fall

Symbols: Apples, bats, besom(brooms), black cats, cauldrons, ghosts, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, pumpkins, scarecrows & witches

Colors: Black, gold, orange, silver & white

Oils/incense: Basil, cloves, copal, frankincense, gum mastic, heather, heliotrope, mint, myrrh & nutmeg

Animals: Bat, boar, cat cattle & dogs

Stones: Amber, anatase, black calcite, black obsidian, black tourmaline, brass, carnelian, clear quartz diamond, garnet, gold, granite, hematite, iron, jet, marble, pearl, pyrite, ruby, sandstone, sardonyx, smokey quartz, steel & tektite

Foods: Apples, ale, beef, cider, corm, fruits, garlic, gourds, grains, hazelnuts, herbal teas, mushroom, nettle, nuts, pears, pomegranates, pork, poultry, pumpkin pie, sunflower seeds, thistle, turnips & wine (mulled)

Herbs/plants: Acorn, Allspice, catnip, corn, dittany of Crete, hazel, mandrake, mugwort, mullien, oak leaves, pine, rosemary, sage, straw, tarragon, thistle, wormwood & yellow cedar

Flowers: Calendula, chrysanthemum, deadly nightshade, rue & fumitory

Goddesses: Al-lat, Baba Yaga, Badb, Banba, Bast, Bebhionn, Bronach, Brunhilde, Cailleach, Carlin, Cassandra, Cerridwen, Copper Woman, Crobh Dearg, Devanyani, Dolya, Edda, Elli, Eris, Erishkigal, Fortuna, Frau Holde, Hecate, Hel, Ishtar, Kali, Macha Mania, Morrigan, Nemesis, Nephthys, Nicneven & Rhiannon

Gods: Arawan, Baron Samede, Belenus, Coyote, Cronus, Dagda, Dis, Hades, Loki, Nefertum, Odin, Osiris, Pluto, Woden & Xocatl

Issues Intentions & Powers: Crossroads, darkness, death, divination, honoring ancestors, introspection, the otherworld/underworld, release, visions & wisdom (of the crone)

Spellwork: Divination, fire magick, night magick, shape-shifting, spirit calling & water magick

Related festivals:

• Day of the Dead- (Spanish: Día de Muertos or Día de los Muertos) is a holiday traditionally celebrated on November 1st and 2nd, though other days, such as October 31 or November 6, may be included depending on the locality. It is widely observed in Mexico, where it largely developed & is also observed in other places, especially by people of Mexican heritage. Although related to the simultaneous Christian remembrances for Hallowtide, it has a much less solemn tone and is portrayed as a holiday of joyful celebration rather than mourning. The multi-day holiday involves family and friends gathering to pay respects and to remember friends and family members who have died. These celebrations can take a humorous tone, as celebrants remember funny events and anecdotes about the departed.

• All Saints Day- is a Christian solemnity celebrated in honor of all the saints & martyrs of the Church, whether they are known or unknown

Activities:

• Dedicate an altar to loved ones who have passed

• Boil a simmer pot to cleanse your space

• Have a silent dinner

• Light a candle for your loved ones & yourself

• Decorate your house and/or altar

• Release negative energy & cleanse your with a ritual bath

• Pull tarot cards to see what may be in store for you ahead

• Cleanse, clean & de-clutter your space

• Leave offerings to the Fae

• Journal & reflect on your accomplishments, challenges & everything you did this year

•Go on a nature walk

• Learn a new form of divination

• Have a bonfire with your friends and/or family

• Carve pumpkins

• Express yourself creatively through art, music, ect

• Visit a cemetery & help clean off areas that need it or to visit a family member/ ancestor & leave an offering

• Hold a seance

• Bake spooky treats & bread as offerings

• Refresh your protection magicks, sigils & rituals

Samhain is a Gaelic festival on 1 November marking the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter or "darker half" of the year. Celebrations begin on the evening of 31 October, since the Celtic day began and ended at sunset.

This fire festival is celebrated on October 31st & is considered the Pagan New Year. It is the first Sabbat on the Wheel of the Year, a cross-quarter festival & the third (final) harvest festival of the mundane year. This is the time when the veil between the worlds of the living & those who have passed is the thinnest, which allows greater communication between the two

Some believe this is the time of the Goddess's mourning of the death of the God until his rebirth at Yule. The Goddess's sadness can be seen in the shortening, darkening days & the arrival of cold weather

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

[nardo-headcanons]

National Holidays in the Ninja Villages + Bonus

I've had this idea in mind for a while, and now I finally got to write it down. Feel free to use these for your own works. Please tag me so I can read em all! <33

Iwagakure: The Lunar Lights of Gratitude The moon has a special place in the heart of every Iwa citizen. To them, it is a part of the earth, now observing its mother body from space. So naturally, the spectacle of a blue/super moon is a special occasion in Iwagakure. To honor and greet the moon, which is actually called "daughter" in the earth country's language, large fireworks are organized every new moon after a blue moon. As previously established, the earth country's firework industry is the largest, which Iwa shinobi are very proud of. Lighting the sky on fire and turning night into daytime is the Iwa way of giving back some of the light that the moon gives us at night.

Kirigakure: The Moonshine Sea Festival Despite the rivalry between the land of earth and the land of water, there is one thing they have in common, which is their spiritual connection to the moon and space. To water country citizens, especially the fishermen, the moon is a protector and guardian of the night, along with the stars. They strengthen the their connection to their biggest source of both faith and fear: the sea. The special climate in the water country, combined with its great biodiversity give a great habitat for biolumescent plankton, turning the sea itself into a starry night sky. It is one of the only pieces of culture that has been preserved, since the celebration itself was founded by the water country's union of fishermen, who don't belong to a particular clan with a kekkei genkai; most of the kekkei genkai wielders in Kiri have been wiped out, along with their culture, traditions and religions.

Sunagakure: Winter's Return The wind country is often ravaged by agonozingly hot summers, sand storms and heat waves are not a rarity in this country. While foreigners might groan and roll their eyes at the thought of the return to cold, foggy winter days, in Sunagakure it is a day for celebration. On the day where the sun stays for the longest, in the middle of the year, a large celebration is held across the nation. The way it is celebrated is different from family to family, and every Suna family is convinced that their way is the right one. Typically, markets are closed the whole day, and any missions rank B or below are halted for the day.

Kumogakure: Whale Festival of Generosity During winter, whales can be found emigrating along the lightning country's coast line, towards the land of iron. This holiday once came to be to celebrate the whales emigration towards a more prosperous habitat to mate and provide enough food for their young - a truly generous gesture. Over the years, many kumo shinobi have forgotten the old tale behind this festival, and it has turned into more of a mere gift giving occasion. And yet, it is widely popular and celebrated throughout the whole country.

Konoha: Cherry and Plum Blossom Viewing In Konoha, Hanami is annually celebrated. It is a custom celebrating the transitionary nature of cherry and plum blossoms blooming in spring.

BONUS: Uchiha Clan Honoring one's ancestors and traditions is of high importance to the Uchiha. Every year, on a clear fall night, the whole clan gathers together to light up little candles using their katon. The tealights are arranged in the Uchiha crest and left to light up the night and the clan share the evening together eating dinner, drinking hot tea and praying at the nakano shrine.

That's all, folks!

[recklessfiction]

What to Do when you Travel to the City

There's a great nightlife. Long stretches of city blocks radiating blinding neon, frenzied beats thrumming up from the asphalt, humming along to the violent slaughter taking place around you. Let your cheek and lips be painted red by another, fall into feverish affections, rhapsodize.

Prior to 5:30 AM weekdays, all Skytrains will be making scheduled detours into the throat of the God of Deep Anguish. Customers traveling between West Broadway Station and 5th should plan for at least 20 minutes of extra travel time and prepare for some crowding on trains and platforms.

The Gardens of Excess will be having their annual Summer Flower Festival this July. Please remember to keep emotionally malleable individuals out of reach of the fruit trees. Employees of The Gardens will not be held responsible for any marriage or germination that may occur between guests and the Unrelenting Abundances.

The beaches that surround the City are great to visit with the entire family. The sand burns the soles of your feet and pierces your skin when kicked up by the wind. The only escape is the ocean and it has been reaching for you all the while. You did not notice the rising tide but now it has reached well past your waist and it pulls. You feel the ground disappear beneath your feet and then...nothing but the sea. You fight to keep your head above the water but it tugs at your ankles, impatient and eager to embrace you in full, to show you its depths. This is a struggle you will not win.

The Night Market is open once again! From April to November come by and sample strange, fermented corruptions, experience Death In Perpetuity, and stock up on gifts for Christmas like featureless iron masks, the gift of prophecy, or a seat on the throne of a kingdom in dreams. Whatever your wishes are, the Night Market is a great place to strike an unpleasant bargain, win or lose yourself in hand to hand combat, or just people watch.

Be sure to visit the dungeons while you're here. Our Wizards have made sure that every moment you spend within these vile halls is both foul and incredibly distressing. You will encounter incredible creatures not from this plane of existence and many have even carved out their own eyes when faced with the horrors. Hundreds enter the gates every year and none have ever emerged but you could be the first!

As host to many cosmically traumatic events such as the divine nascence of The Stairs and the cataclysmic joining of Man To His Beloved and Wretched, the City boasts a number of unique and exciting tourist destinations. Witness first hand the crater left in the wake of Her Movement or the forest that blossomed forth at the climax of the Great Pestilence. Keep up to date on weather reports and the movement of the beings by downloading our city's informational app or visiting our website.

[ikeprinces-stuff]

Event : Leon Dompteur sequel route release

Host : @aquagirl1978

Characters : Leon x Reader

Words : 1723

A/N : already on my way to day 4's prompt LEZGOO!!! ✨✨❣️

Previous prompts : Love, Dreams

Day 3 - Royalty : What does Leon's life look like as King?

Of course, being king came with a weighty crown of responsibilities and precious little free time. Yet, Leon, even prior to his coronation, had been well-versed in the burdens of leadership, having served as the esteemed head of the Domestic Faction. The expectations and hopes of an entire kingdom rested heavily upon his shoulders like a cloak sewn from the finest silks yet bearing the weight of iron. Now, it was his solemn duty to transform those lofty dreams into tangible reality.

As the grand ball in his honor unfolded, a sea of nobles and aristocrats swarmed around him, vying for his favor and seeking the warmth of his friendship. Leon, however, was no naive king; he possessed a discerning eye. He could easily see through the layers of pretense and flattery, knowing instinctively whom to embrace and whose smiles concealed ulterior motives. Various suggestions flew at him like confetti, each accompanied by a symphony of praise and whispers, an incessant hum that he had learned to navigate with practiced grace.

“Warm congratulations on your accession to the throne, Your Majesty,” a nobleman exclaimed, his voice dripping with obsequiousness as he bowed slightly.

Leon offered an easy smile in response. “Hey, thank you.”

“We are confident you will lead Rhodolite to a bright future,” another added, raising his glass in a grand toast, his eyes reflecting ambition.

As conversation ebbed and flowed around him, Leon strained to engage with the gathered lords and ladies, yet his thoughts lingered elsewhere. His gaze frequently darted toward you, radiant and animated as you engaged in spirited conversation with one of the noblewomen who had caught your attention. A genuine, unguarded smile blossomed on Leon's face at the sight. Normally, these extravagant gatherings felt like drudgery, a parade of empty pleasantries, yet witnessing your joy transformed the mundane into a vivid spectacle, filling the evening with an unexpected vitality.

In that moment, the weight of his responsibilities lightened ever so slightly. Here, amidst the lavish festivities and the hollow praises of the nobility, was a flicker of warmth—your laughter, your spark—bringing a glimmer of hope that amid the grandeur and protocol, he could still find moments of pure, unadulterated joy.

“Your Majesty, forgive me for my rudeness,” one of the guests ventured, breaking the delicate atmosphere of the gathering. All eyes turned to Leon, who arched an eyebrow in surprise. “I couldn’t help but notice that your smile has become… more genuine,” the man continued, the words hanging in the air like a sweet melody.

Leon maintained his composure, though curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Really?” he replied, feigning ignorance, yet the glimmer of understanding shone through. The noble guests surrounding him nodded in eager agreement, a chorus of affirmation swirling in the lavish hall.

With a casual shrug, Leon felt his smile widen, radiating warmth, “Well, there’s a good reason for this newfound smile of mine. A very good reason indeed.” He paused, savoring the moment, though a part of him hesitated. Revealing the truth felt unnecessary; the guests were savvy enough to know the source of his joy.

In the depths of his mind, he recalled how his past smiles had belonged to ‘Leon Dompteur’, but this smile—the one that now graced his lips—was profoundly different. It belonged to him, the real him, untethered and free. Just the thought filled him with a swell of happiness and optimism, the kind that no royal mask could ever genuinely replicate.

“Ah, His Majesty, King Leon.” The voice cut through the tranquil moment like a dagger, pulling the king from his reverie. Leon turned to face the intruder, a smile that once danced on his lips now wilting under the heavy gaze of the man before him.

The duke approached with an unhurried grace, the kind that came naturally to someone of his stature. Known throughout the realm not only as a nobleman but as a master painter, he was the proud owner of Rhodolite’s largest art gallery. It was, after all, his brush that breathed life into many of the illustrious paintings that adorned the most famous noble estates' walls. Yet, it was not his artistic prowess that extinguished the light of joy from Leon’s eyes.

Whispers floated through the courts, rumors weaving a tapestry of uncertainty. The duke, despite his grandeur, was said to harbor darker affiliations—a shadowy member of the anti-monarchy faction. Though the claim remained unconfirmed, it lay heavy in the air, filling the nobleman's charming demeanor with an unsettling chill.

“Allow me to extend my deepest congratulations on your accession to the throne,” intoned the Duke, his voice smooth as silk, as he bowed slightly in a show of respect. Leon glanced at him, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “It brings me great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” he replied, his tone steady yet laced with an undercurrent of caution.

“The pleasure, indeed, is entirely mine,” the Duke countered, a glimmer of something inscrutable dancing across his features. “I must express my sincerest apologies for my absence at the coronation ceremony. The demands of my time are relentless, and it is a regret that weighs heavily upon my conscience.”

As their conversation progressed, the air crackled with a tension that belied the pleasantries exchanged. Words flowed freely between them—a melodious waltz of compliments and well-crafted phrases, carefully designed to obscure deeper intentions. Yet, despite the polished façade, Leon couldn’t shake the gnawing unease that crept upon him. There was an undeniable hint of strategy behind the Duke’s cordial demeanor, as if each smile and polite laugh were mere moves in a grander game of power. In this intricate dance, Leon felt like a pawn being maneuvered on a vast chessboard, aware that every exchange was laden with potential treachery.

Then, in the midst of lively conversation and laughter, the Duke's gaze suddenly fell upon you, illuminating the very essence of your charm as a smile blossomed on your cheeks. “Ah, the illustrious fiancée of His Majesty,” he declared, his voice steeped in a feigned humility. “What a radiant beauty! They say her heart is as pure as belle, as generous as the sun. Truly, she is a great match for the King.”

"Indeed, she is," Leon replied, his tone both calm and placid, yet acutely aware that hidden behind the compliment was the menacing edge of a 'but.'

“But…” the Duke continued, just as Leon had anticipated, his voice slithering through the air like a serpent. “You cannot overlook the stark disparity in social standing. The commoners, no matter how virtuous in their hearts, cannot fathom the intricacies of royal lineage. And what of the future?” The words hung heavily in the air, each syllable a chill that stirred the guests. “What if…” he paused, letting the insinuation linger. What if your blood produced an heir unfit to wear the crown?

Silence engulfed the room as Leon’s gaze intensified, a feral gleam igniting in his eyes, as if he could consume the man before him whole. Here, within the sanctity of his palace during his own celebration, someone dared to cast shadows upon the woman he cherished—the one destined to be his queen. He could feel the stirrings of doubt ripple through the nobility surrounding him.

The Duke, sensing the simmering rage emanating from Leon, leaned in with a predatory glint in his eye. “Perhaps, Your Majesty,” he purred, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “if the weight of such criticism becomes too burdensome, I could recommend… a more suitable bride.”

Leon’s hands tightened into fists, fury coursing through his veins. The facade of regal composure he had so carefully maintained threatened to shatter beneath the Duke’s insidious suggestions.

Yet, with deliberate restraint, he inhaled deeply, forcing a smile that was icy and unforgiving, reminiscent of winter’s cruelest grip.

“Your Grace,” Leon said, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade, low and commanding, “it appears that some individuals have developed an unhealthy fixation on meddling in affairs that do not concern them. I would suggest you confine your talents to your art and refrain from overstepping the boundaries of those who govern the royal court.”

The silence that followed was palpable, a testament to the dawning realization that Leon would not tolerate such disrespect toward the woman he loved.

The Duke’s smiling façade faltered as Leon stood firm, his voice resonating with authority. “My fiancée embodies exceptional virtue and intelligence,” he declared, his gaze unwavering. “Her humble lineage does not define her worth nor diminish the depth of her love for me and for Rhodolite. It was she who chose me to be King, and in turn, I will choose her to reign by my side as Queen.” As he spoke, the atmosphere grew more tense, each word tightening the invisible noose around the Duke, who suddenly realized the gravity of his misstep.

“Your Majesty?” You stepped forward, determination fueling your movements. With a graceful bow toward the Duke and the assembled guests, you added, “Please excuse my interruption. I feel compelled to express my heartfelt gratitude for your presence at our gathering today.” A glimmer of resolve shone in your eyes as you continued, “I promise to strive with all my might to meet the expectations placed upon me as your future Queen.”

A ripple of approval washed over the guests, their smiles mixing with soft murmurs of encouragement, impressed by your poise and fierce determination. At that moment, you felt Leon's presence beside you, his strong arms encircling you in a protective embrace. Yet, it was his intense gaze that caught your attention—his eyes were fixed on the Duke, who was now visibly unsettled, his smile draining away like color from a painting.

With a subtle nod, you turned your charm toward the other nobles, weaving your way into their favor, leaving the Duke isolated and encircled by his own choices. It was a calculated maneuver, one that spoke volumes about the shifting dynamics in the room.

In the realm of royalty, criticism was a common whisper in the shadows. Now that Leon wore the crown, he would need to navigate this turbulent sea of opinions with skill and composure. Yet, one truth remained unwavering in his heart—he could face any critique thrown his way, especially when it revolved around you, his chosen future Queen.

Fin ❤️✨

Taglist : @leonscape @violettduchess @lorei-writes @the-bird-and-the-flute @chirp-a-chirp @reborn-elven @judesmoonbeauty @drachonia @wistfulwanderingone @candiedcoffeedrops @scummy-writes @rjthirsty @candied-boys @citrusmornings

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

Happy May Day! And with Spring fully upon us, that means more festival announcements, y’all! So let’s get to it. Richmond, VA-based music festival Iron Blossom Festival is presented in collaboration with: Starr Hill Presents, an independently owned and operated concert promoter based in Charlottesville, VA that promotes over 300 events each year, ranging from small club shows to multi-day festivals. The company operates multiple local venues and have partnered in festivals across the country, including Bonnaroo, Outside Lands, SXSW, Pilgrimage and more. IMGoing Events, a full-service, independent entertainment company providing first-class live experiences and an innovative leader in the production, booking and marketing of live entertainment events including festivals, concerts and all types of special events. The company creates creates premier concerts and event experiences by offering the most intimate engagements. Haymaker Productions, a production and promotion company that has been producing and promoting concerts in the Richmond area since 2002. The Haymaker Productions team also provides production support for events such as the Olympics, Burning Man, World Cup and Formula One racing while continuing to curate the area’s favorite outdoor concerts at Maymount. Grand Rising Curations, an independent concert and festival promoter producing shows and providing talent buying, marketing, ticketing and production services throughout the United States. Iron Blossom Music Festival will return to Richmond, VA for the second year. Taking place September 21, 2024 – September 22, 2024, the festival will be an end of summer celebration with two days of incredible music, food, art and fun at the Training Center on Leigh (formerly Bon Secours Training Center). The festival draws from its host city’s vibrant and diverse community to bring fans a unique musical experience, with local artists sharing the stage with regional acts and national headliners. This year’s headliners include indie folk-leaning indie rock outfit Mt. Joy; CAAMP, who will be playing their only Southeast show this year; Americana group Turnpike Troubadours and Grammy-nominated soul outfit Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats. The festival’s lineup also includes Trampled by Turtles, Hippo Campus, Joy Oladokun, Indigo De Souza, The California Honeydrops, Royel Otis, Sumbuck, Chance Peña, Say She She, River Whyless, Susto, SG Goodman, Julia Pratt, Sarah Shook & The Disarmers, Victoria Canal, Dogpark, Jack Wharff & The Tobacco Flatts, and Kenneka Cook. Iron Blossom Music Festival’s second edition will be expanding this year’s footprint to include a larger food court an artisan bazaar, a GA+ Lounge and additional free water stations and shade structures while still offering the best of Central Virginia’s food, beverage and maker communities. Fans will continue to enjoy farm to table and delicious street foods, craft beats and cocktails, and wears from dozens of artisan vendors. A VIP experience is also being offered, giving fans up-close views, an exclusive lounge with cash bars, vendors, and more. Fans can guarantee themselves Tier 1 ticket pricing by signing up for the exclusive email/text presale at IronBlossomFestival.com. Tickets will be on sale to the general public tomorrow at noon at IronBlossomFestival.com. “Last year’s event truly was a celebration of the vibrant community here in Richmond. We can’t wait to bring everyone together again for another amazing weekend of music,” IMGoing Events’ Ken MacDonald says. “The city of Richmond continues to grow and thrive and the success of Iron Blossom is because of the people who live here and their enthusiasm for art and culture, especially live music. From the top notch lineup to the incredible food and beverage programming, Iron Blossom will again be one for the books” Haymaker Productions’ Tom Beals says. Iron Blossom Lineup  Mt. Joy CAAMP Turnpike Troubadours Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats Trampled by Turtles Hippo Campus Joy Olado...

[ladyantiheroine]

Petition for Hozier, Lord Huron and Noah Kahan to form their own band trio à la Boygenius.

[slutterhaus]

.peace

AN: I love this trigger-happy bastard man, I love angst, I have no excuse. CWs: Character death, heavily implied suicide, mentions of blood, mentions of human sacrifice, mentions of Caligura, angst (no comfort) Other: Second Person POV, you and Pav kinda have a blossoming romance that's cut short. милый means darling in this context. Under read more because it's more than 100 words. Word Count: 805

Your fingertips were slick and slimy, the blood on your hands feeling sticky as it started to dry all the while the patches that stained your wrists and bits of your forearm were long forgotten. It was quiet on the train, save for Pav’s breathing, which came out in small, ragged puffs as the bandages that covered the large wound along his chest and abdomen slowly stopped needing to be changed as often. He was in pain, you knew this, and no amount of painkillers given to him by your shaking hands could help his body, much less his mind.

“And you call yourself that old one’s follower.” An airy chuckle escaped him. “Didn’t you eat people for rituals? Now you can’t handle a little blood on your hands?” 

“Sacrificed. Never ate.” You bit back. “And it’s…”

“Different?” He interjected.

“Complicated.” You corrected, taking the damp cloth you had brought back from one of the passenger carriages’ washrooms storage and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Those people had brought me pain, I just returned the favor.” 

Silence overtook the two of you once again, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It was like he sensed your worry, and in his bastardly ways, he tried to comfort you. “You know… maybe you and I aren’t so different after all.” This earned him a glare of daggers his way from you. “We are nothing alike, Lieutenant. You let your need for revenge corrupt you. You–”

“Turned into the exact same thing I wanted to destroy. I know.” He cut you off again, though his tone seemed somewhat distant, as if he was just voicing his thoughts and not just directly answering you. “And for what? Now look at me; bleeding out on a damn couch. It’s ironic how fitting this end is for me, left to die like a dog without mercy, just like the lack of it I showed others.” 

“Pav…” You didn’t know how to make things better for his passing, the only thing coming to mind was not leaving him alone. Nothing excused his actions, the crimes he committed against innocent lives being monstrous and vile, yet maybe he was right. Maybe revenge also clouded your judgment. 

And maybe… just maybe… this festival, even though you weren’t a contestant, was also your punishment. Perhaps he was also keeping you company during your final moments. That mobster didn’t seem too pleased when you pushed him down a flight of stairs back in the city. And between two creeps, you would take Pav any day, but he wasn’t in any condition to come to your rescue if your club slipped from your bloodied hands. 

“My mom would’ve liked you.”

His words made your attention snap back towards him. “What?”

Pav chuckled, this time hard enough for him to wince and hiss from the pain. “You heard me.” He began. “This whole dying thing… life flashing before your eyes… Thought back to when I wasn’t such a complete fucking bastard, before He took my actual life away… мама would’ve like you.”

A sad smile tugged at your lips as you reached to wipe his forehead again, the now dark red stained cloth bringing as much comfort as a priest coming to a patient’s deathbed. “Going soft on me, Lieute–”

“Pav… Pavel, please.” He corrected. “My family wouldn’t like that to be how I go to meet them. I’ve always been snarky and got under people’s skin… so consider yourself lucky to see this side of me.” His breathing seemed to get slower, and every once in a while his words slurred. He was tired, you both knew it. “Maybe if it was any of the others, I’d be snappier… Guess I like ‘ya a little too much.” His face held a pained snicker, but you knew he was being at least somewhat genuine. “I’m tired, милый.”

You nodded, scooting closer from your place on the floor, tongue swirling the capsule underneath it. “Do you think I’ll get to meet them?” You asked, receiving a shake of the head as an answer. “As much as I’d like to believe we’ll see them… we’re not going to a place with pearly white gates. Not us.” He added, bringing a bloody, nearly limp hand to brush against your back. 

“Anything is better than here.” You argued, earning one last chuckle from Pav. “I suppose it is.” He agreed.

True to those words, the train door opened, the bone-saw wielding festival contestant finding the two of you peacefully asleep, away from the horrors that awaited you had you chosen to stay. And whether or not the two of you escaped the Gods or ended up in a void, nobody knew. Maybe you and Pav were somewhere much worse, but for now… so was everyone in Prehevil. 

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Day.21 ~ Let's celebrate as family ~ Hallowtober

William Afton x wife!reader and Mike Schmidt x girlfriend!reader

warning : fluff, kiss, comfort, implied murder

summary: In the small town, Halloween is as present as anything else. Both William and Mike don't have much to do with the holiday, but when their respective partners like the special day, they do everything they can to make it as special as possible for them.

info: So back to fnaf (I should write more). Well, I'm looking forward to the second movie anyway. Have fun reading and have a nice day ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His wife had passed away many years ago, but he still remembered Halloween with his daughter, walking through the streets of the small town together, where so many people took part and gave each other a treat, whether it was sweets, harmless jokes or costumes.

Since the mysterious unsolved murders, since the change in the economy and the city, which was increasingly losing its crazy shine with the ravages of time, William's interest in the festival had also waned.

This was not least due to the fact that his daughter Vanessa had to leave for a few years to train as a police officer and his job only allowed him to have limited time for his…hobbies.

A time that bored him, saddened him and only the joy of the memories of his past deeds seemed to cheer him up, but all this seemed to be nothing when he met her shortly after the murders.

It had been a cool autumn day and on his way back to his house, he had gotten a flat tire and she, she had simply appeared out of the dark like him and had helped him on Halloween and the origin was she was wearing a rabbit costume almost like his.

Since then, William had something else to keep him busy, something he loved and in which he was completely absorbed. ,,You fulfill me more than any Halloween together, my love,” he had told her as he had taken out the golden ring, the orange-red leaves flying around them both, and they went for a walk along the road where they had met a few years earlier.

You could call it fate.

,,And you showed me what true devotion meant, my bunny" had she replied and returned his kiss, into which he had then drawn her, even though the iron-like, almost bloody smell around William never seemed to fade away in all this time.

Neither on Halloween nor at any other time and maybe, just maybe, one day she would look closely when he came home, gave her a kiss and she saw the small bloodstain or the torn clothes…but maybe, who knows, maybe one day she would be the one former pizzeria, lock the doors behind her, give him a knife and calm the new mysterious soon-to-be victims. Who knew when love blossomed in the fall and William's hand was on hers, drawing her into a kiss.

Who could say? Because the dead remained silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Halloween is a bittersweet reminder of the past for Mike, a memory as a young boy with his brother and their parents together on the couch under cozy blankets.

The hum of the television when his father put a Halloween special of Scooby-Doo, he held his little brother and the candy almost fell out of his hand before he felt his mother's embrace, which calmed him down.

As I said, a bittersweet memory that had nothing to do with what he had now: an unpaid small bungalow, his sister asking him every minute if they could decorate the house, and the pain of an aunt who called him every hour.

He had to make another compromise when he put the key in the door and opened it, he winced and said, ,,Oh Jesus-fuck…sorry” as he walked right into a spider hanging from the ceiling, which he hadn't expected before he heard two laughing voices.

The culprits, who he couldn't be angry with, ,,Haha, you should have seen your face!” he heard the laughter of Abby, who was holding her stomach in front of her, and his girlfriend, who had been given a loli, and who was still giggling back on the couch, to enjoy the little treasures they had bought.

Shaking his head and smiling slightly, he put the shopping on the table and ran his hand over his face before he felt her hands on his and she gave him a kiss on the forehead.

,,Such a sweet, tired face you have, my little spider,” he heard her voice and he pulled her into a short embrace when he realized that she had worked the early shift at the flower shop, then neglected her sleep to go shopping with Abby and decorate the house.

He loved her, he had loved her from the moment he had first seen her, and given Abby a free sunflower when he had just had to bring a small present for elementary school because of some important appointment.

,,I love you and this exciting October so fucking much,” he murmured to her and pulled her into another kiss that was interrupted by a giggling Abby holding up a picture with a heart, and the two adults couldn't help but laugh along with her as they continued to prepare for the biggest and best Halloween yet, while Josh occasionally reached for her hand and squeezed it, receiving a look of love and reciprocation in return.

It would be the best Halloween they'd ever had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[violetsaffron5]

Beautiful Disaster (1)

series masterlist • Chapter 2 →

↳ 1 | Memories

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Gojo Satoru: confident, flippant, an all-around red flag. It’s a wonder why you started a multi-year tumultuous relationship with him that alters the course of your life and those around you.

cw: violence, profanity, heavy drinking/mention of drugs

words: 4k

an: i changed the name of this fic bc i wanted to pls don't come after me (or do i'm not your mother)

an2.0: broke this chapter into two parts so it wasn't a random 10,000 word first chapter, porn next chapter though

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

April 2018

You wake six minutes before your alarm is set to go off. The room is dark and cold, but the bed you’re laying in is warm, soft and cozy. Your head aches from the lack of sleep you got last night, having stayed up entirely way too late in nervous anticipation for this weekend.

When you stretch, the warm body next to you pulls you in close to him, begging for five more minutes before you roll out of bed and inevitably leave.

You grant him that wish, snuggling in closer and place several chaste kisses to his lips before he runs his hands along the curve of your spine down to your ass, grabbing a handful, tugging you closer to him. You gasp, feeling his hard length press against your stomach and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, gliding it against yours, groaning softly as he rocks his hips into you gently.

“I really have to go, otherwise I’m going to be late.”

He huffs before kissing the tip of your nose, “You’re right. Utahime can be a bitch like that.”

“Be nice,” you scold while rolling out of bed and grabbing the bag you pre-packed before changing into your clothes for traveling, kissing your partner, ensuring them that you’ll see them later and head out for the weekend's festivities.

A bullet train and several hours later you’ve reached your destination, just outside of Kyoto at a beautiful venue. The main building is white, traditional with several other smaller buildings resembling the primary one scattered across the lawn.

There are several cherry blossom trees in full bloom where wait staff are setting up various chairs; the wooden archway and florists are getting the flowers setup along the aisle and on the arch posts.

As you take in the view around; the ponds with cherry blossom leaves falling elegantly into the water, the sporadic rays of the sun filtering through the branches of the trees, you absentmindedly run your thumb along your ring finger before sighing and continuing your trek along the cement path.

Walking inside the main building, the floors are marble, with a modern grand staircase leading up to the bridal suite where you’re greeted by several college friends, including Utahime, who walks over and embraces you awkwardly, never having been one to show physical affection.

“You made it, on time even.” She comments in surprise as you chuckle, telling her how you barely made it out of the house with a certain someone trying to coax you back into bed.

She grimaces before excusing herself to go smoke a cigarette, to your surprise, out on the balcony while the other ladies giggle, changing into their outfits for lunch.

Manami Suda makes her way into the room holding a glass of champagne and squealing before taking a seat at one of the vanities near you.

“Did you hear Gojo’s going to be here this weekend?”

You give a curt nod and take a deep breath before sitting in front of the vanity next to hers, turning on the curling iron. It’s a subject you were hoping would be avoided the majority of the weekend, but clearly you’re not going to get that lucky.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Listen,” she says, suddenly serious which makes your brows knit together, “this weekend is about Utahime and -”

You glare at her from the corner of your eye, grabbing a section of hair wrapping it around the tool before letting it go, watching the perfect curl fall next to your face.

“We’re all adults, I’m pretty sure I can handle seeing him for a few hours.”

“I just want to make sure there’s not going to be any drama between the two of you.”

“There won’t be, so let’s just change the subject, okay?”

“Okay,” Manami replies quietly, “want help with your hair?”

You nod and give a half-hearted smile as Manami walks over and begins curling the rest of your hair telling several anecdotes with the rest of the bridal party about Utahime, how they all met and how they’re so excited for this luncheon and the ceremony that’s going to take place in a few days.

All the while, you stare at yourself in the mirror, smiling along with everyone else and laughing when they laugh, a sour feeling filling the pit of your stomach as you think about the events that have transpired over the years that brought you here, by Utahime’s side, of all people, before she walks down the aisle to the love of her life.

September 2011

You’ll never forget the moment you first laid eyes on him.

Skin glistening with sweat in a basement of one of the off-campus university houses, dim lights accentuating the curve of each of his toned, sinewy muscles. Ivory hair damp, lip and eyebrow busted and bleeding from the cuts he received prior to you walking into the crowded space.

It’s a small, cramped room, filled to the brim with other students yelling, screaming and booing while he wipes the sweat from his forehead and blood from his lip with the back of his hand, chest heaving up and down with each deep breath he takes.

You’re making your way through the mob, hand cupped tight to Shoko’s as she leads the way to the front. There’s a yellow ring spray painted on the floor and inside only the white haired man and two others are located. One looks as if he’s acting as a referee, with strawberry pink hair on top and a chocolate colored fade just below. The other person is flat on his back, face turned away from you; he’s clearly been knocked out.

Through the horde a tall man appears, black skin-tight shirt, well defined muscles so visible through the thin layer of fabric he may as well not have one on, his gray sweats hang low on his hips as he bends over, checking the pulse of the boy on the floor.

The room goes quiet and the scent of copper and perspiration fills the room, more noticeable than before as you wait for the verdict. The man stands, with the other boy in his arms, hanging off his shoulder loosely, head dangling towards the ground and walks him out of the ring towards the entrance you just came through.

“Everyone shut the fuck up,” the peach haired man says, tattoos sprawling across his face, eyes small and somehow crimson as he speaks into a bullhorn when the the room explodes with rambunctiousness again. “You all know how this goes: betting ends once the opponent hits the floor, no touching or assisting the fighters in any way and no encroachment on the ring. Break any of these rules, and you’ll get your ass beat.”

Everyone in the room is intent on bloodshed and you wonder if you’re going to be able to make it out unscathed as you stand near the border of the ring. You’re being pushed and bumped into, the sea of people spilling their beers and other beverages as many of them try to make their way to the front, pushing you into Shoko so they can get a better view.

When you came to tour the campus last week and learn your way around, you met two people during orientation - Ieiri Shoko and Geto Suguru. Both were happy to help you get acquainted and show you around, both surprised to learn you were transferring to Tokyo Tech for your sophomore year - the same year as them.

You explained that you wanted to get further away from home, and how Tokyo Tech has courses that are more suited for your degree, so in an effort to be more independent, you opted to go ahead and transfer rather than procrastinating and trying to wait until senior year.

Shoko took the opportunity to show you to the dorms, to where your room is and let you know her room is just a few doors down the same hall, and Suguru let you know there’s a party at his place off campus during Welcome Week, and invited the two of you to come.

Shoko and Suguru were already acquainted with one another and in an effort to make friends, you agreed to come, but an underground fight club is not what you were anticipating to find out about during your first week at this college, or ever really.

The emcee continues to hold the bullhorn to his lips, introducing the fighters for the next round, “alright, this fucker needs no introduction, but I’ll give him one anyway: Gojo Satoru.”

The crowd explodes into whoops and hollers like this guys is a fucking celebrity of some sort.

“What’s the deal with him?” You lean towards Shoko, yelling into her ear so she can hear you over the noise.

“Gojo’s undefeated, started fighting the day Sukuna started this in an abandoned Wendy’s parking lot last year as freshmen. Everyone loves it - sick bastards.”

“How has the school not shut it down?” You ask, eyes trailing Gojo’s movements as he walks around the ring, stretching his shoulders and cracking his neck from side to side, spitting out some blood from his lip in the process.

“The big guy earlier, the one who carried that freshmen out - that’s Toji Fushiguro, one of the professors here. He helped Sukuna start this, keeping an ear out if there’s any talk in the school from the higher-ups. Occasionally these fights will be moved to someone else’s basement, or even back at the parking lot just in case the school decides to investigate.”

You nod in understanding as a young bleached blonde steps into the ring, cracking his knuckles. He looks to be wearing eyeliner, which seems to be an odd choice when getting ready to fight, since it would just smear with sweat, his ears are also covered in earrings which seems like an even worse choice in a fight with barely any rules.

“Who lives in this house then?”

“Sukuna, the emcee,” she nods her head in his direction, “Geto and Gojo, though it’s not uncommon for people to spend the night after these parties, since the house is so big.”

It’s true - the house is large but also a mess. When you made your way across campus and down the street the house sits on, you could hear the music blasting from the corner, several cars lined the driveway and even sat in the yard. Some of them looked incredibly expensive, others slammed or souped up.

The house itself is two stories, white siding with plenty of windows for natural light. There are columns on the front porch holding up a balcony on the top floor. The yard was a mess with red cups and empty bottles strewn across the grass. A typical college party house.

Inside, you didn’t get to see much as Shoko grabbed your hand and led you down the steps immediately.

“Here we’ve got a newbie freshman, trying to prove his worth: Zenin Naoya!” Sukuna states, raising his hand in the air.

You watch as the two men interact with one another with some familiarity, Gojo leans down, whispering something in Zenin’s ear, which clearly upsets him judging by the knitted brows and pissed off look in his eyes, he looks as if he’s about to murder someone while Gojo stands, bouncing on the tips of his toes looking mildly amused with himself.

The two take a few steps back from one another before Sukuna drops his hand. Zenin immediately takes a defensive stance while Gojo throws several punches at the same time several people jab you in your own side, trying to get a better view, pushing you out of the way and slightly into the ring.

“Fuck off, dude!” Shoko yells, grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you back into her.

When you finally look back into the ring, Zenin’s face is already bloodied and Gojo’s lip is bleeding again. Zenin grabs Gojo with his muscular arms and wraps a leg around Gojo’s, trying to grapple him to the ground, but without losing balance, Gojo’s other knee connects with Zenin’s face causing him to stumble backwards.

Zenin isn’t able to recover before Gojo lands a series of blows to his face before landing one final punch to Zenin’s nose, causing his eyes to roll back and his body crashing onto the concrete floor with a loud thud, blood from his nose spraying out and gushing down the side of his face.

The room grows quiet for a moment again before Sukuna mutters a “shit,” and grabs the bullhorn once again, “that’s enough for tonight. Go party, shit heads.”

Gojo doesn’t seem fazed, standing tall, breathing heavy again with blood running down his chin. He looks out into the crowd as if he’s looking for someone. There’s a churning in your stomach that happens the moment his eyes lock with yours; they’re wild and unhinged, which makes you queasy from the intensity. But at the same time, so beautiful, crystalline and blue, filled with a passion you’ve never experienced before.

Like a beautiful disaster just waiting to happen.

He grins at you, it’s lopsided and alluring, the dim light of the basement casting a golden halo over his skin. You smile back, biting your lower lip before Shoko grabs your elbow, pulling you back the way you came.

“We’re taking shots!” Shoko shouts as soon as you’re in the kitchen. The island is set up with bottles and bottles of alcohol along with stacks of red plastic cups lined, some empty to be used, others filled and left behind by the owner.

Shoko grabs a few of the cups, filling them with vodka before handing you one, clinking your cup with hers you gulp it down, wincing and scrunching your nose at the taste before she fills your cup again, taking another.

She’s able to drink more than you anticipated, and she seems unaffected when her friend, Utahime, appears by her side, joining her when you tap out after the back to back shots.

Utahime is in a pair of cute overalls, with a black shirt underneath, her silky black hair is down going past her shoulders with half of it pulled back with a red ribbon. Her eyes are a gorgeous deep set brown. She’s stunning when she smiles brightly at Shoko whose caramel brown hair barely touches her shoulder, the sides tucked behind her ear as she laughs at something Utahime says.

She looks less tired tonight than when you met her last week, the deep purple bags under her eyes less prominent, like she was able to get plenty of rest last night. She’s in pre-med, studying her ass off to go to a good medical school, on top of working part-time at a local restaurant where she works with Utahime, whom you met earlier in the evening while getting ready to go out with Shoko.

In an effort to not be attached to her hip all night, you make your way down the hall and out into the living room. It’s a large open space, a huge sectional couch taking up most of it with a coffee table in the center littered with more drugs than you’ve seen in your entire life along with several bottles of alcohol and a giant TV hung up on the opposite side with surround sound speakers.

Suguru is standing on the opposite side of the couch, facing the direction you just walked in from, talking with a few ladies with bleached blonde hair. Next to him is the emcee from the basement, Sukuna.

He smiles and nods his head, patting the pink haired man on the shoulder and excusing himself as he makes his way over to you. He greets you with a quick “hey,” and a hug which you happily return in your tipsy state.

“You good?” Suguru asks curiously as he pulls away, looking at the goofy grin on your face.

“I’m actually so good right now.”

You were secretly hoping to run into Suguru and be able to spend more time with him tonight. He’s incredibly attractive with his chiseled jaw, gauged ears and glossy ebony hair pulled back into a bun that sits on top of his head. Suguru has an aura about him that’s just calming and makes you feel good about yourself.

“I didn’t see you downstairs.”

“I came up to help Toji with the kid who got knocked out earlier.”

The two of you make your way to the couch as you explain how you must have just missed each other because the kid was being walked out when you arrived with Shoko.

“So, is this like, some fucked up wonderland for drugs?” You ask, nodding towards the coffee table.

Geto laughs before shaking his head, “nah, but Sukuna would appreciate that you said that. Want anything?”

You’re looking at the assortment of pills, powders and liquids on the table as Sukuna walks over, “your boy likes the powder, the other is a fan of the pill.”

“The other?” You look at Sukuna confused.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, “he was the one fighting in the ring earlier.”

You hum and watch as Suguru pops one of the pills into his mouth. “That freshman was already trying to fight him. Doesn’t the semester start in a few days?”

“They’ve known each other for a long time. Family businesses are entwined.” Sukuna states, lighting a joint before offering it to you, which you decline. The night is still young and you want to catch up with Shoko and Utahime again later, so it’s best not to get too fucked up and have to rely on one of your new found friends to care for you.

That’d be embarrassing on your first night out on campus.

“If you’re not gonna smoke, let's go get something to drink,” Geto offers before grabbing your hand and leading you towards the kitchen. You wave to Sukuna just before a girl with light pink hair grabs Geto’s other hand, getting his attention.

“Suguru,” she wines, “can you help me really quick?”

He purses his lips, looking over to you where you smile and say, “go ahead. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

You chuckle to yourself and roll your eyes as you walk down the hall towards the kitchen, placing your hand on the wall a few times to balance yourself so you don’t accidently trip over your own feet.

“Still don’t see why you care.” An icy tone from the kitchen says before you stumble in seeing the voice belongs to Gojo, leaned against the counters, a lit cigarette between his fingers before bringing it to his glossy lips, taking a drag.

“Because these fights are fucking animalistic, and your image affects me too.” There’s a woman with straight silver-tinted hair standing across the kitchen island, her eyes sharp and filled with furry as she stares at the ivory haired man, ignoring your presence.

Gojo shrugs, “sounds like a you problem,” the smoke be inhaled earlier leaving through his nose and mouth as he pushes off the counter, snubbing the cigarette along the way and going to the island to pour himself a drink.

The woman scoffs, grabbing her own cup and stomping out of the kitchen rather dramatically in your opinion. You purse your lips and avoid looking at him as you grab a new cup, dumping a dark colored soda you don’t bother reading the name of with one of the clear liquors, and pour a generous amount in, swirling your cup to mix them.

“You look uncomfortable.” Gojo says, making you look up to meet his gaze.

The lights in the kitchen are brighter than the ones in the basement, showing off his jawline and high cheekbones, all sharp edges. His eyes are somehow brighter in this light as well, more crystal clear like the ocean surrounded by thick, long, fluffy white lashes. He’s in a black shirt with dark jeans now, the cuts on his lip and eyebrow no longer bleeding.

“Uh, what?” Your brows raise and you blink several times because yes you are obviously uncomfortable from having accidentally walked in on their private conversation.

“Gojo Satoru,” he says smoothly, “you look great, by the way.”

Your cheeks flush at the sudden compliment, before muttering a thanks. You tell him your name in response and he says it several times, tasting it on his tongue like fine wine, eyes watching your every movement.

“That’s a beautiful name. Really suits you, just like that dress.” His eyes unashamedly wander your body before he comes to stand next to you. He’s confident, cocky and his mere presence is intoxicating. “You new?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Freshmen?”

“Sophomore.”

“Hm. Maybe we’ll have some classes together.” He grins down at you as you crane your neck up to him because he’s so, so much taller than he looked in the basement earlier.

“What’s your major?”

Gojo tells you he’s pre-law, hoping to get a good internship junior year and make his way into an Ivy League law school. You tell him your major and the classes you’re taking, but he just says “guess you’ll have to wait and see,” when you ask if there are any classes you have together.

You roll your eyes and laugh, taking a sip of your drink, watching him smile over the rim of your cup.

“You don’t seem uptight. I think most uptight people just aren’t being fucked all that well.”

You cough and sputter into your drink, not having expected him to say that, “is, uh, is that what her problem was?” You nod your head towards the entryway to the kitchen where the silver haired woman left, “she just isn’t getting fucked well?”

“Ouch,” he feigns hurt, holding his hand over his heart, “I’ll have you know I’m a great fuck.”

“That’s great,” you laugh awkwardly, “that’s really… good for you.”

Satoru smiles down at you, and you’re not entirely sure when during that conversation your back made contact with the wall behind you, but it did, his face inches from yours, leaning on one of his long arms caging you in.

“God, your laugh is precious,” his voice is low, honeyed. He grabs the cup you’re sipping on between two of his fingers, setting both his and yours on the counter next to you, and you just let him.

Turning your head up to meet his gaze, you feel your cheeks heat again, noses brushing alongside one another. Your lips part every so slightly when his ghost yours; you lean forward, ever so slightly, unconsciously trying to close the almost non-existent gap between the two of you but he moves away ever so slightly with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

You find yourself gripping the fabric of his cotton shirt at the base of his stomach, feeling his hardened muscles clench at the contact, keeping him close.

His breath is mingling with yours in the tight space, smelling alcohol and cigarettes with each exhale.

“Gojo.” you murmur, almost a whisper, almost pleading.

He chuckles, hand finding its way to your hip as he threads the other through your hair, slotting his lips with yours. 

Gojo’s a graceful kisser, tasting of alcohol and mint from the cigarette. His lips meld with yours, snaking your lower lip between his teeth, tugging playfully, loving the sound of the soft sigh that leaves your lips as he does this.

The feeling of a little metal ball on his tongue takes you back for a second before you realize he has his tongue pierced, the thought sending a jolt right to your core, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

You can’t hear the ongoing party, haven’t been able to for a while now. The bass is still reverberating through the walls and the floor, from the tips of your toes through the rest of your body.

He pulls back, eyes half lidded flickering between yours and your lips, voice husky with arousal as he asks, “my room?”

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