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icelily17 · 2 years

Text

Snapshots

Okay so I have my Sol/Dys fic done, still cant put it up on AO3 yet but Im buzzing to get it out there so here ya go. Also not sure if this is the title I want but I never pick good titles

These are little snapshots of points in their lives, some of these scenes are in the game so a few lines of dialogue are ripped straight from the game, so SPOILER WARNING for scenes in I Was A Teenage Exocolonist.

CONTENT WARNING: mentions of sex and implied sex, but nothing explicit. Also mentions of death. Enjoy!

------

Aboard the Stratosphere, age 7

You sit on a soft beanbag chair in the creche, watching a video on your holopad. Dys is watching over your shoulder, "No don't go there!" he groans at the person in a small corner of the video who was playing the ancient Earth video game, "He missed an item! I saw it glowing!"

You shrug, too engrossed in what is happening. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tammy and Cal sitting off to the side, playing house with one of Tammy's dolls. They're giggling as they sit and drink pretend-tea, and you shift a little as your attention returns to the video.

Marz comes in, an excited look on her face as she runs to the center of the room and twirls so that her dress flares out, "Look at the new dress that my daddies got me! Isn't it so pretty?" she asks with a tone in her voice that implies she's expecting everyone to answer yes.

Anemone grins, the ball she was playing keep-em-up with settled in her hands. "You really like blue huh?"

Marz smooths her dress, "Well duh, it matches my hair!"

Tammy claps her hands and smiles, "It looks so pretty on you!" Cal nods beside her.

Dys huffs a little but nods to appease Marz. You smile at her, giving her a thumbs up. Evidently Marz decides that its good enough and waltzes over to a table and picks up a few crayons. You and Dys settle in and return to your video.

------

Aboard the Stratosphere, age 9

"Oh, Solana! Have you seen Dys around anywhere?" Auntie Seedent asks as you turn the corner in the hallway of the living quarters area. She looks anxious, "I haven't seen him in a couple hours, he's usually back in time for dinner, I haven't seen him and I'm getting worried."

You know exactly where Dys is--off scampering around the ship and trying to find different hideouts. Being the smallest child among you all, it was easy for him to fit in a lot of places the others couldn't. You knew where a couple of them were, but Dys kept most of them to himself. He liked to be alone.

You also knew you couldn't tell Auntie Seedent what he was doing, or else Dys was going to be in trouble. And you and Dys had made a promise a couple years ago that you would never snitch on each other, pinkie promised even! Your mind races as you attempt to come up with an excuse.

"I invited him to sleep over at my place tonight, he's probably already there with my parents," you say easily. Thank goodness you know your parents are already home.

Auntie Seedent breathes a sigh of relief and smiles. "Okay, that's good news. You two are thick as thieves, aren't you? Well have fun and I'll see you tomorrow!" She brushes past, and you continue on your way home, grateful that she didn't go to your quarters and talk to your parents herself.

"Hey gooseberry!" Your dad ruffles your hair and smiles and you wave hello at your mom. "Gonna go read!" you call over your shoulder, and you parents return to their conversation: your mom as passionate as ever and your dad just watches her with hearts in his eyes. When you get to your room you quickly send a short signal over a chat on your holopalm to Dys, just to give him a heads up that you had to cover for him, no big deal.

The next morning, Dys comes up to you and gives you a soycake he grabbed from the kitchens, "Thanks for covering for me again, Sol," he says as he plops next to you.

"Don't worry about it," you say with a smile, "It's annoying when all the grownups want to know where you are all the time."

"I know! Why can't they just leave me alone?," he sucks his teeth in annoyance. "Hey, you wanna see the place I found? You can use it whenever you want too," he says, finishing his snack. You nod, and take off after him as he leads you towards your new secret spot.

------

Vertumna, Mid Quiet, age 11

You've decided to take the month off and hang out at the creche, and chose to spend this time re-reading your favorite book on animals that your father gave you for your fourth birthday. You hear the doors open, and when you look up you see Dys plodding towards you. He sits on the same beanbag as you and you distantly think about how the beanbag feels smaller these days. You turn back to your book as he pulls out his pencil and some paper and begins drawing some of the alien flora of the surroundings. Silence hangs around you, comforting instead of awkward--you both like to spend a lot of time like this. Together, with the understanding that there doesn't need to be talking. You occasionally feel his arm gently bump you, but nothing else is said.

The door opens again, this time Tangent enters the creche. You're surprised to see her here and not with Chief Instance in the Engineering lab where she spends all her time. You wave at her, and Dys very pointedly keeps his eyes on his work.

You frown slightly as you remember the three of you playing together all the time when you were little. What happened between them, you wonder to yourself as Tang gives a small wave back. You knew it began when their mother died. Your parents never told you what exactly happened, just that she was gone. You remember the funeral, how they both stared at the floor, ignoring everyone around them attempting to console them. Dys had disappeared soon after, and you didn't see him for 3 whole days. He was really good at not being found when he didn't want to be. When he finally re-emerged and went to school, he didn't speak for a long time, and he and Tangent--who threw herself into her schoolwork in a way that could only be described as manic--never really spoke after that, and she didn't join you when you played with her brother anymore. It made you kind of sad.

Marz marches in not long after, gabbing on about something at the depot and how she's been saving her Kudos. She looks at you two on your chair and snickers, "Look Tang, there's your weird brother and his girlfriend!"

Tangent says nothing, just sits down primly in a chair and immediately begins typing away on her holopad. You and Dys both scrunch your nose at the thought of being each other's girlfriend/boyfriend, and yet in the very back of your mind you feel....something else?

Already forgotten, Marz looks over Tangent's shoulder and begins asking questions about something-or-other, you've already lost interest. Dys mumbles something under his breath and continues drawing. But when you look out of the corner of your eye at him you notice the tips of his ears are a little more pink than usual.

------

Vertumna, Late Pollen, age 12

Marz has announced that it's Valentine's Day, an old Earth holiday where you apparently are supposed to give your best friend some chocolate or something. You think this could be fun, and when Marz mentioned you had to do it before the end of the day you immediately think of Dys and go to find him.

He's at the wall, watching the jungle outside through a gap in the fence and occasionally digging his boot in the dirt. He doesn't turn or say anything as you approach him.

You open your mouth and you have every intention of asking him to be your best friend so you can annoy Marz together, but suddenly a vision swims before your eyes. A grown boy, with black hair that shimmers rainbow and wearing black, surrounded by vast openness and a smile as he looks at you.

Dys.

And before you can understand, your mouth speaks on it's own: "I see you in my dreams."

You wait for a response, panicked. What was that???? your mind screams at itself. Dys doesn't move, though you see his cheeks get a little redder as the minutes tick by, and you begin to slowly tell him about the dream. About how you both are older, about how you both would hold hands, and about how you both were...in love. As you say this, his blush spreads down his neck and you feel your own face begin to heat up. What are you doing?

You trail off, waiting for him to call you a loser, or weird, to get up and leave, anything really. He just keeps looking through the gap in the wall for a long time. You don't move a muscle, afraid of being the first to break the moment.

Finally, he speaks: "I have dreams about you too."

Your mind stutters, huh? as it tries to process his answer and both your faces get a deeper shade of red. Time to say something!

"O-oh...so...are we best friends then?" Is all you can think to say. More silence, and all you want to do is hide in your room. But your feet are rooted to the spot.

Dys begins to chew on his lip, still not looking at you. "Okay," he says, finally. "Yeah."

Relief washes over you, though your face and neck are still hot, and you smile brightly. You swear you see a small tug at the corner of his mouth before you sit beside him and stare out at the same spot as him.

"So whatcha lookin' at?"

------

Vertumna, Early Quiet, age 15

"Dys! Cripes, slow down!" You say as the two of you climb up a hill. He looks back at you and gives a wide grin. He waits a little, but you can practically see him vibrating as you clamber towards him.

~Earlier~

You woke up this morning to a message on the private chat you two have, and your heart began to beat a little quicker as you saw his name. You sat up and quickly scan the message:

Hey, after everything is done for the day, come out with me. I have something cool to show you. Bring some equipment, we're gonna camp!

You smiled a little, excited and got dressed with fervor. Dys had been spending a lot of time outside of the walls lately, going on expeditions at every chance he can and barely coming home. You joined him out there as often as possible, both filled with awe at the land you now call home, but you're also trying to study the plants as best you can with Xenobotany so you can help your dad with the Shimmer. You couldn't bear the thought of him getting sicker and losing him. Not after your mom had gone.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of these bad feelings. It's your birthday! You greeted your father with a smile and together you went to Geoponics, looking forward to the evening.

Once everything was said and done, night fell and stars appeared. You bade your dad goodnight with a hug and kiss, many 'thank you's and 'Love you's before you headed off to your room to pack a bag for the night.

And now, you find yourself chasing Dys' retreating figure through the trees and wondering how he's always so fast. "This better be good, you nullhead," you wheeze, hand on a tree trunk.

"It is," he assures you, and he steps aside to let you take in the sight of the valley below. His eyes never leave you as your jaw drops. It's beautiful!

The blue-ish white snow gives way to a large expanse below you and not a tree in sight. A whole herd of unisaur are moving slowly, adding to the gorgeous picturesque landscape. The stars were twinkling, and the three different-sized moons were casting an ethereal glow on the field.

"Dys!" You give a small gasp and let your bag fall off your shoulder, "It's beautiful!" His smile grows wider as he lets his pack fall to the ground as well as he asks excitedly, "You like it?"

"I love it!" You whirl around, and you feel like you're positively beaming. All worries and stress from the day melted away. You throw your arms around him, and he stiffens a little at the contact. But he doesn't pull away, and he lets you hug him for a couple seconds. When you let go, he clears his throat. "Happy birthday, Sol," he says shyly. "I don't have much, but I wanted to give you something at least."

You look out at the meadow below once more, and sigh happily. "It's perfect," you assure him, and you mean it. You haven't felt this peaceful in a long while, and he--your best friend--knew exactly what you needed. Peace and quiet.

And Dys.

You look back at him and your eyes meet. You're taken aback at how soft his gaze is, but he quickly averts his gaze as a blush blooms on his face. "Glad you liked it," he murmurs, and you laugh before helping him set up the tent and campfire. You spend the next couple hours staring up at the stars and making up constellations.

Later that night, as you crawl to your sleeping mat, you sleepily tell him, "Thank you, Dys."

He makes a small noise in acknowledgement before it gets silent. You both lay in the darkness, and you move your hand towards his and link your pinkies, like you did before. Your eyelids droop, and you're vaguely aware that he hesitantly links his ring and middle finger with yours as well--not quite holding your hand, but almost. You smile and the last thing you hear is Dys whispering, "I wish we could stay like this forever."

------

Vertumna, Early Dust, age 16

You march decidedly towards the Expeditions area, clutching the databand you received at the Vertumnalia Festival that afternoon. You saw the words 'secret admirer' on the note and you immediately thought of the sullen boy you called your best friend.

As you walk on, your steps get less and less confident as you get caught up in your thoughts. What if it wasn't Dys? What if it was from someone from the Helios crew, like Rex? Sure, you noticed how Dys was more red in the face whenever you touched him in any way, but he was always averse to physical affection! Ever since you were little kids! How can you be so sure that means he likes you?? Your mind races, and you practically groan as you slow to a walk.

"Hello Solana," Tangent says distractedly as you walk past her at the Engineering building. She's leaning up against the wall, her holopalm flashing all kinds of imagery at her. "Are you alright?" She squints at you, suspicious now that Pollen has passed once more. The Shimmer has most definitely been a source of frustration for Tangent, who wants nothing more than to figure out the problem but just can't.

You nod thoughtfully, and Tangent's eyes fall to the object in your hand. "What's that?"

"A databand, someone gave it to me at the festival. But they signed it as a secret admirer so...I don't actually know who," you say, a little embarrassed.

Tangent looks at it, then her eyes travel to your face, and back and forth again.

"A...secret admirer you say? Well, that's something," she says dismissively, but you catch her eyes darting towards the entrance to the colony before returning to her holopalm.

"You know who it is?"

"No I don't," she says, though her voice catches just the teeniest bit, and she's staring intently at the images. You smile anyway, your confidence restored. You knew that Tangent still cared very much about her brother, even if she couldn't admit it.

"Well, thanks anyway, Tang!" You wave as you walk on, and she gives a small 'mmm' in response. You begin walking quickly towards Expeditions once more, where you see Dys loading up a vehicle. He sees you approach and gives you a nod before he goes back to his work.

"Are you my secret admirer?" You blurt out as you stop next to him, holding up the databand. He pauses, but doesn't meet your eyes.

"So what if I was? Don't make a big deal out of it," he lowers his voice.

"But I like you too!" Your heart is beating out of your chest. You always knew it, ever since you were both 8 and he helped you with your art project. He had been so patient and something had sort of clicked for you then, but you didn’t quite understand and so never thought too hard about it. But you think of those visions of future Dys and future you being together and your heart begins to swell and you just know you had to tell him or you were going to burst.

He stops altogether, raising his head before turning around slowly. He looks at you, dumbfounded, as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "What?....Why??"

You search for a way to explain, but you can't pinpoint a single reason why Dys is so special to you. He always had been. "I just do!"

He looks at you for a long while, and lets out a shaky breath you both didn't know he was holding. "Okay," he mutters, and his cheeks are flushing again, "Cool, I guess."

You both hold each others' gaze for several minutes before the Expedition team calls for departure. "Gotta go," Dys says awkwardly, then gets in the passenger seat of the truck. You step back, and before the vehicle can drive off, you see a smile on his face.

-----

Vertumna, Early Quiet, age 17

You lay awake in your room, your mind too loud to sleep. The unisaur pendant lays on your chest, and you are all too aware of its weight.

You and Dys getting together was a matter of time. You both had been flirting for about 3-4 years at this point, but today was the first time that Dys had been the one to initiate any conversation of the sort. You remember the way his hands rested on your neck, his voice as he confessed all the feelings he kept close in his heart for you, the intensity in his eyes as he looked at your mouth, the way he leaned towards you, his hands on your face...

You squeeze your eyes shut, before flipping around on your bed so that you lay facedown in the pillow. And yet, you smile to yourself. The dreams and visions were finally coming true--well, those ones anyway--and Dys was finally your boyfriend. Officially.

-----

Vertumna, Late Wet, age 18

You and Dys are sitting in a clearing on a rainy afternoon. He's writing more things down in his journal and you are going through your holopad entries. At one point you feel his gaze on you, and you look up to meet his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing really. I just like looking at you," he says simply, smiling at you as the blue-and-yellow sunlight beams down on you both. You blush and look away for a second, "Oh...really?"

He leans in and gives you a kiss, and it's so sweet it leaves you breathless. "Yeah. You're beautiful."

You giggle in embarrassment at the compliment, but you take his hand and kiss it appreciatively. You both smile at each other before returning to your respective activities.

"Hey Solana? You....don't have anything important happening tomorrow, do you?" Dys asks hesitantly after awhile. You tell him you don't, and raise an eyebrow at him as if to ask why.

"Okay. I was...kind of hoping...you might...stay the night here with me?" He stammers out, his face and ears burning red.

You look at him, confused but smile at him earnestly, "I would love to." A wide grin breaks out across his face as he grabs you and pulls you in for another kiss. You smile against his mouth as you return with fervor, and it gets more intense until it eventually turns into a mess of tongues, with hands lost in hair and heavy breathing. Dys breaks apart, before wordlessly standing up, pulling you up by the hand, and leading you to the tent.

You both lay down and begin kissing again, immediately picking momentum back up where it left off. Hands are desperately reaching anywhere they can, moans escape both of you as the air in the tent quickly heats up. Your hands flit around the bottom of his shirt before you pluck up the courage to pull it up, where he immediately breaks away again so he can take it off.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and hungry, but he remains on his elbows above you as your chest heaves from trying to catch your breath. "Is this okay? Do you want this? We can stop if you don't," he whispers, brushing a lock of blue hair away from your face gently.

Your heart flutters at his consideration for you, his gentleness. You nod, and as he comes back down to kiss you hungrily you realize you've never been more certain of anything in your whole life.

-----

Vertumna, Mid Wet, age 25

"I can't believe this," Dys mutters angrily, but loud enough you can hear. You narrow your eyes at him, arms crossed.

"Excuse me?"

He whips around, "You of all people know how much I want to be out there!" He snarls, "Why can't you just let me be??"

You push your hair out of your face and take a step closer, "What does that mean? You go out there all the time! Sometimes you're out there for days!"

"Yeah, but I make sure to check in with you--"

"Only when I message you first after however many days I don't hear from you!" You shout over him, and he gets a guilty expression for a second before getting angry again.

"I just want to be out there! I hate coming home here!" Your arms fall to your sides as you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes, his words ringing through your ears. That stung a little. Dys has definitely noticed your chin wobble a little, because his voice softens but still sounds aggravated as he takes a step towards you and holds you in his arms, "I only come home because you're here. You're the only thing worth coming back here for, I've told you this before!"

You look down, willing the tears to stay where they are but to no avail--they begin to fall. You hate when you two get like this. You know that Dys is right--he only comes back because he knows you're here, but this isn't his home. It never was.

Years ago, Dys had come back from one of his days-long expeditions with an excited look on his face and explained to you that he had discovered a way for him to become one with the planet. He tells you about Sym, who you knew from a few encounters yourself, and all that Sym had taught him. You had seen a light in his eyes you had never seen before, and your heart had constricted. You two have begun to fight a lot more, recently. You didn't like the visions and dreams that occurred that night, or how they some of them were true now. You didn't like the visions and dreams that were occurring recently, or how some of them were true now, too.

"Why won't you come with me?" He asks so softly, as he guides you by your chin to look at him and gently wiping your traitorous tear with his thumb. His demeanor only makes you more sad and angry.

"I've told you, I can't leave them without helping to find the cure for the Shimmer. It didn't work with my dad--" your voice catches, and your hands squeeze his biceps at the painful memory,"and I just...I can't let anyone else go through that, Dys. It hurt so much."

He doesn't let go of you, but his voice is sad and pleading, "Solana...I can't live without you."

You nod and squeeze him into a hug, looping your arms around his neck. "And I can't live without you. But please....can we just be together for now? We can talk about it again some other time. I just...I need you Dys," you plead, looking up at him. He looks down at you for a long, long time before wiping another tear from your cheek and giving a resigned sigh.

"Okay. For you, I'll try anything. I love you, Solana, so much," he says, before bending down to kiss you. You don't let go for a long time.

-----

Vertumna, Late Pollen, age 37

You get home from a long day at the Xenobotany lab, and to your surprise Dys is there and reading your tattered old Animals book from when you were a kid. He looks up and smiles, "Hey honey."

You smile tiredly at him, happy to see him home. True to his word all those years ago, Dys was making an effort to come home to you while still balancing his love for exploring the wilds of Vertumna. But you could feel him getting restless, especially whenever Sym came to visit you both.

You really liked Sym, an alien life form of the planet who didn't try to kill you every chance he got, which was a relief. He was a pleasant person to be around (as much as he could be considered one?), and gave you wonderful insight into some of your research. But you didn't like the sense of unease whenever you looked at your partner after any of these visits, or what you knew was going to have to happen. It was a matter of time, and as much as you didn't want it, you had to let him go.

"Dys, love...I think we need to have a talk."

He closes the book and lays it on the table, then pats the couch beside him. You gladly sit down, and he takes your hand. "What is it, Sol?"

The small rings on your hands glint in the light, and you remember the private ceremony you two had, where you promised to love each other for your whole lives--and then some, in your case. Sym was there to share in your joy, and while it hadn't been as grand as Cal and Tammy's ceremony, it was perfect for you two.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips for a split second, and you open your mouth to speak but the words are getting caught in your throat. Dys waits patiently.

"I...I've been thinking about...what Sym has told you," You begin carefully, and to his credit Dys does not react, instead looking intently into your eyes. "And how you feel and what you want. And you...want to become part of Vertumna."

Dys' eyes widen as realization of what you may be saying dawns on him, "Sol...I...but I want you to be happy!"

You smile sweetly at him, "Oh my love...what would make me happiest is seeing you truly happy. And you...aren't truly happy here." You almost say with me but you stop yourself. This isn't about you, you think to yourself.

Dys grabs your other hand, "But you do make me happy," he begins weakly. "I mean...yes, I do want to be a Gardener, but...I love you," he finishes. You keep smiling sadly as you shake your head.

"Yes, but...I can't keep living with myself, knowing I'm keeping you from being happy. And well, I got to keep you to myself for a few extra years," you say half-jokingly, but your voice breaks as you catch up with what you've said and what this means. Dys pulls you into a hug and you both sit there in silence.

After a long while, he pulls back and you wipe your eyes quickly. "Will you at least come with me when I do it?" he asks quietly. "I want you there."

You nod, "I will."

-----

Vertumna, Late Dust, age 37

Sym leads you and Dys to the cave you found all those years ago in the Western Ridge. It's dank air makes you shiver, even though it's not exactly cold. You and Dys hold hands the whole way as Sym idly makes small talk with Dys before stopping at a pool. "This is it," he says simply.

You look down at the pool, and Dys squeezes your hand before turning to Sym, who still looks the same as he did when you first met him as a teenager. "What do I need to do?"

Sym gestures, "Simply submerge yourself in the gel and breathe normally. Disrobing is not necessary; your clothes will be liquefied along with your physical form. But be warned, once you step into the pool, there is no going back. Are you truly sure this is what you want?"

Dys looks back at you, and you think back on your life together. As children running through the Stratosphere and hiding in cubbies, as children in the talent show at the annual Vertumnalia Festival, as preteens hiking though the jungle surrounding the colony, holding hands beneath the stars as you both listened to music. How he comforted you when your parents died, or how amazing and scary it felt when you both had sex for the first time in the woods. How as young adults, you were still finding your places in this colony, but you found your place in each other.

And you suddenly get a flash of a vision, one where you see a young Dys' face smiling at you and you just know that you haven't lived this one yet but it's so real. You tell Dys this when he asks why you're smiling, and he grins in return.

"See? Because of your time loop thing, we'll be together in the next life." You nod, your smile faltering. You don't really want to wait--you want to be with him now. But you know you can't leave the colony, or your friends. And you know he can't stay.

Almost as if reading your thoughts, Sym pipes up, "Well, you will see him again, even if...you may not recognize him." He says this as a way to hopefully make you feel better, and you appreciate it.

"Okay. As long as you're ready," You tell him after a deep breath. It's now or never, you tell yourself.

Dys cups your cheek and gives you one last sweet kiss. "I love you so much Solana, and I'm so glad you came to be here with me," he whispers as he lets go. He turns around and steps into the vat of blue gel, submerging and closing his eyes as a peaceful look sets about his features.

You turn to Sym, "Thank you very much for being here for him. It really means alot to me."

Sym smiles back at you, "Of course. I love Dys--and you--very much. You are both wonderful humans, and I thank you for caring for our planet. Let me escort you home."

As you turn to leave, you glance down one more time at your life partner. He looks truly at peace, and knowing you were able to let him go and give him that peace makes the weight on your heart ease. Just a little bit.

-----

Vertumna, Late Wet, age 88

You lay in your bed in the medbay, surrounded by basically your family in the colony. Most of your friends who were part of the original Stratos colony have long since passed, but you still have Anemone sitting nearby. You smile at everyone, and tell each of the people present that you love them and to be good for Auntie Sol. There are tears and sniffles and watery smiles, until at last everyone has gone. You close your eyes as you feel the edges of your life fading away.

That night, you dream about a little boy with dark black, shimmery hair. You're ready to begin again.

#i was a teenage exocolonist #dys x sol #cw: implied death #cw: implied sex #long post

22 notes · View notes

hirokiyuu · 2 years

Note

36 - dys+tammy

36. Your eyes heavy, nightmares robbing you of sleep

"I just... you look like, um, you haven't... you haven't been sleeping?"

Well, she's not wrong. His dumb room's too quiet, now that he's tried sleeping outside the walls. No animal noises or rustling leaves or anything, just metal walls and not even his sister's snuffling breaths for company, nowadays. Just him, alone, in the dark.

But he doesn't wanna explain that. Especially not to Tammy, of all people, who's standing over him with a worried little frown and would probably think he was like, afraid of the dark or something dumb like that. Instead Dys just shrugs a half-shoulder and sinks a little deeper into his beanbag chair

"O-oh," says Tammy, twisting one pigtail around her finger as she glances down at her feet. "Um... well.... Sometimes, when the kids in the creche can't sleep, they like to drink something warm? Especially if--"

"I'm not a baby," he snaps, instantly, because Marz is always going on and on and on about what a dumb kid Dys is, whenever she sees him crying or whatever. He doesn't need it from Tammy, too.

But then she flinches, and too late he remembers that it's Tammy. Tammy who cries every single day, who won't even bother stepping outside the living quarters half the time because she's too scared. If there's anyone who won't make fun of Dys--who can't make fun of Dys--it's her.

He feels... kind of dumb. Not in the normal way, either. Bad in the way he feels when he's by himself and he sees Sol playing sportsball with everyone else, or like when Tang and Instance are off talking and Tang's smiling and Instance's smiling too. Stupid. He can't even figure out how to fix it.

"Sorry," whispers Tammy, hands fisting on her skirts. "I just... I mean, sometimes I have some too. Like, when I have really, really bad dreams.... I just...."

She trails off. The silence is awkward; Dys fidgets with the edges of his sleeves himself. "...Thanks," he manages, finally. "I'll, um... I'll try it, or something. I guess."

She blinks, brightens a little. "O-oh, okay!" Her smile is wobbling and still a little hesitant, but... it's better than her crying. "Um, I usually put some sugarbug syrup in mine, too. So...."

He nods, kind of awkwardly. She smiles at him, still a little shy, but before either of them have to say anything else there's a call of her name from the kitchens, and her head jerks over. "O-oh, that's... I'm coming, Auntie!"

She takes two quick steps and then stops dead, turns around and waves, before whirling back around and running off before Dys can even wave back. In the next moment she's gone, fast as a hopeye.

Dys watches her go before letting himself slump even further into his seat. A hot drink with sugarbug syrup. It sounds kind of babyish, and if Marz finds out he'll never hear the end of it, but.... There's a hot plate in his and Tang's room still, and he can nick a mug, and he's got his own sugarbugs.....

Maybe it would help. No one would even have to know. Or, well.... Dys glances back at the door Tammy ran through. At the very least, if he does try it and it works, he'll have to thank her.

#i was a teenage exocolonist #how do you writing #kids being friends.......... tammy+dys is one of my fave dynamics wwww #ive talked abt this before but he holds her baby........... he holds her baby.....................#they are friends................#i just like the Them. u kno #this is like....... year 11 or 12?#smth like that wwwww theyre still baby u kno. u kno #small.............#writing kid pov is fun wwww i enjoyed this #anyways i might pick up finishing this set of prompts i had the writing bug but no ideas again tonight #tho im going to bed for now but........ maybe i will do some more tomorrow LOL

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nine-blessed-hero · 2 years

Text

The Foundling

Universe: TES IV: Oblivion CW: Child abandonment, fantasy religion Words: 605 (2 pages, 6 panels) Context: Sometimes, the universe wants things done in a specific way; who am I, mere conduit of tales, to argue? I've never written a comic script in my life -- please be kind. That said, constructive criticism is welcome on this piece. Read on AO3

PAGE 1

1– full-width panel, 2/3rds-page height.

The Chapel of Mara: Chapel Hall. Pale stone arches rise in a classical cloister, golden flame from wall sconces illuminating the scene. We can see the end of the dining table, but our attention is focused on the cross corridors which lead from left and right, and the open door which leads into a bedroom.

MARZ, a pale rose and lime green argonian, and URAVASA OTHRELAS, a teal dunmer, already stand clustered in the cross of the corridor in their nightgowns. The Altmer Primate, SOLIRIL, is joining them, tying the band of his housecoat.

Across the scene is an overlay of a sound effect: "Whaaaa-" going from small to medium letter size.

2– half-page width, 1/3rd-page height

Still in Chapel Hall. Tight on the group of people

SOLIRIL, scowling: What on Nirn is that racket?

MARZ, head turned to look behind the "camera": It's coming from the chapel.

3– half-page width, 1/3rd-page hight

The Chapel of Mara: Chapel Hall. We're now looking the other way. The same cloister walls and sconces, but now we can see more of the dark wood dining table, already set for the morning meal, the wooden sideboard and kitchen area.

SOLIRIL now has his back to the camera, marching towards the closed wooden door at the other end of the Hall.

The overlay text, "-aaaaaah-" is bigger towards the door

SOLIRIL: Then we'd best investigate, hadn't we?

PAGE 2

1– 2/3 page width, 2/3 page height, to the left

The Chapel of Mara. The angle is from the POV of the characters. The Chapel proper is a voluminous room, lit only by patterned coloured moonlight, angled in from one side of the building. Grand, fluted columns of pale stone rise towards the ceiling, and dark wooden pews make an aisle towards the great altar. The altar is octagonal and made from the same light stone as the rest of the chapel. It sits on a two-step octagonal dais of dark grey stone. It is decorated with drapes of ruby-red fabric that gap at each corner. Leading from it is a short measure of dark red and gold-edged carpet. Directly behind it can be seen the blue stained glass window depicting the Aedra, Mara.

SOLIRIL, MARZ and URAVASA are silhouetted busts at the bottom of the panel, looking away from the "camera", into the chapel proper.

The overlay text, "Whaaa! -hic- Ahhhh! -hic- Whaaaa!" is big now, curving over the top of the panel towards a bundle of cloth on the great altar.

URAVASA, whispering: It's coming from the altar...

MARZ, also whispering: It sounds like...

2– 1/3 page width, full page height, to the right

The Chapel of Mara. Panned out, so the "camera" is looking down from somewhere near the roof.

MARZ is approaching the altar, only a few meters away. URAVASA and SOLIRIL trail behind, a few pews back.

3– 2/3 page width, 1/3 page height, to the left

The Chapel of Mara: Great altar. A closeup of the top of the altar. It has a span of half a meter, before dipping away into a bowl in the centre. We can see that the altar cloth is finely woven and looks expensive; the inner border is embroidered with gold thread. The bundle of cloth, in comparison, is dirty brown and coarsely woven.

MARZ's green-scaled hand is reaching into the frame, uncovering the head, torso and arms of a human BABY. The BABY has ruddy-brown skin and a smattering of black close-coiled hair. Its eyes are scrunched closed, pink mouth wide, and fists balled.

MARZ: A child...

#writing #TESFic #hero of kvatch #Marz #Uravasa Othrelas #oc Soliril 'Rue #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #wandering words #TIL Tumblr doesn't have an underline option. I think the ''a child'' should be underlined but no can do #also I'm not sure if it's done? we'll see...#if anyone fancies doing the arts on this go for it #concrit welcome #oc k'rin l'rue

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luxmaeastra · 1 month

Note

Azriel exhaled, no amount of exercise had helped. He couldn't get Gwyneth out of his Mind, how she'd laughed and danced at the Autumn Equinox.

How her purple and gold dress had made her glow.

He growled, throwing his dagger across the training yard. It wasn't the one he'd been promised but it still felt fucking good.

------

He found his mother in the kitchen, cutting something. He watched her in the doorway, moving to take over for her when she went back to stirring.

She glanced at him, an eyebrow raising before turning back to the stew she was making.

"Cut the rest lengthwise."

He did, it was just his age right? He didn't want to deal with relationships. Cassian, Aleksander and Rhysand could put as many spins as they wanted on it - it just sounded exhausting.

"Mama how - how did you know Papa was enough? How did you know you weren't too broken for..for any of it?"

He knew the story well, it was one his father told often whenever Xaden or Aleksander got annoyed at their lovers.

"I'd have followed her wherever she lead. If that's not true walk away now, let those females have somoeone would will."

He'd bragged at his relentlessness, at his devotion. Though Azriel wondered at one point did it come off as arrogance, at his mother being worn down and settling.

He focused back on the vegetables. But Gwyn was...all the females around him were good and kind.

"How did you know you weren't going to snuff out his light?"

He didn't think anything could darken his father's infectious joy for littlerly everything. He loved his father, of course he did - but his constant bursts of energy set him on edge.

Maybe he needed to just get out more.

Night at least was mostly peaceful, Rhysand's family wasn't so loud about everything.

Natalia hummed in thought as she continued to stir their dinner, weighing out her words as she considered Azriel's question careful. The children had all grown up on their stories, of their early years and the tales of their mating. Each was different, each had their own challenges.

Hers and Sebastian's was no different, but maybe not to the extent as Silba and Sarai's had been, or even Zefera's, Iris's. But that was the beauty of each mating, it was the challenges and how different they were.

"I think I never believed myself to be broken, your aunts Sarai and Silba wouldn't dare to allow me to feel such a way about myself," she mused as she placed the wooden spoon down. "I think the bigger concern was if he was going to hurt me, if he was going to take what he wanted and then leave. Your father had a reputation, just like Aunt Sarai."

She smiled at the memories, sometimes she wondered if maybe they goaded each other on their exploits.

"In the end we knew far before we actually came together, but I think we were too scared of what that meant," she moved towards Azriel and ruffled his hair. "He was my best friend before we mated, well second best friend because your aunt would probably drown him if he claimed that title. If you are more worried about snugging out someone's light, then I think talking to your Aunty Silba and Uncle Marz would be the best places to start..."

After all, their stories were theirs to tell.

#Muse | Natalia

0 notes

justiceamberheard · 2 years

Text

Amber Heard’s witnesses’ testimonies, part 2.

Day 17. Day 18.

Josh Drew.

He has never witnessed Depp get physical with Heard.

Drew testifies Depp is generous to his friends and people in general. Drew says he tried several times to pay rent to Depp at the Eastern Columbia Building, but was denied by Depp.

Drew testifies he witnessed Heard yell at Depp, but never witnessed her get physical with him.

Drew testifies about Heard's 30th birthday.

Drew testifies about police officers, May 2016.

Mr Drew says when they stepped in the place was "out of order"."When we turned the corner, on a section of counter near the kitchen sink, there was something written on the counter," he says."I can't remember what material it was and to be honest I can't actually recall exactly what was written but it was something very very weird."He goes on to say the message read "always such a fraud or something akin to that".

Drew testifies Heard had "pretty significant facial injuries." (December 2015)

Heard's attorneys ask about the "poop incident." Drew testifies he saw dog feces in the penthouse in "perpetuity."

Drew testifies to Depp bursting into the penthouse he was staying in on May 21, 2016, and that Depp made a "beeline" for him and was "screaming, cursing, spitting in my face."

Drew confirms both he and Pennington took a series of photos of Heard following the incident. He says the injuries in the photo appear consistent with what he saw that day.

Whitney Heriquez.

"These statements [Waldman] devastated her,"

We got along really well at the time ... He was very easy to get to know. Frankly we all fell in love with him, at first.

If he was using or if he was drinking, there was almost always a fight ... He would be sober for a little bit and then almost just as quickly fall off the wagon.

Henriquez then describes what she says was controlling actions by Depp over Heard.

He was almost unrecognizable when he was drinking and using to an access.

Amber Heard's sister Whitney Henriquez is now being asked about an incident that took place on 21 March 2013 when Johnny Depp allegedly refused to leave Heard's home. She goes on to say she was trying to get him out of the house because he was late for filming a documentary on The Rolling Stones' guitarist Keith Richards."For hours we sat there. I was trying to talk to him, making him feel like everything was okay. Just trying to get him out of the house. His assistant kept coming in and out at one point," Ms Henriquez adds.Ms Henriquez is asked if she observed any injuries on her sister at the time and she says: "Her face was swollen and it was kind of red. I thought she had just been crying and her lip did appear to be cut but again at the time that wasn't what we were trying to do.

She says at some point during their car journey she heard the window open and saw "Johnny holding our dog out of the window".Ms Henriquez says the actor then brought the dog back into the car and was "laughing" before joking about "putting the dog in the microwave".

Whitney describes what happened on March 23, 2015.

pictures of the damages.

Henriquez says she found a NDA on her counter, which she did not sign. She says she moved out of the ECB, after Depp accused her of selling stories to the media.

Elizabeth Marz( Raquel’s friend).

She testifies about May 2016 incident. "The door burst open and he came in from my perspective under the influence of something - drugs or alcohol," she says."He was holding a very large bottle of wine, looked like a Magnum bottle of wine which was spilling all over the place."She goes on to say that as Depp opened the door he mumbled "get your b**** out of here".Mr Marz says: "I just remember it all happened very fast, the door slamming, him saying get your b**** out of here, the wine. "His whole being really frightened me and it almost felt like he was coming towards me from my perspective."Whether he was coming towards me or not it scared me and I just ran out past him."

Testfies about seeing injuries on Amber’s face.

Melanie Inglessis(make up artist)

Testifies about December 2015 incident. "She had discoloration under both eyes and the bridge of the nose and she had a split lip."

Inglessis testifies to how she used makeup to cover Heard's injuries on December 16, 2015. "We covered the discoloration, the bruises with slightly heavier concealer."

Kirsty Sexton, (Heard's acting coach)

testifies to hearing Heard and Depp screaming at each other, Heard's withdrawn behavior, and an incident in which Depp screamed at Heard for going out for pizza with Sexton. "He didn't want her going and doing things just on her own."

Sexton testifies to an incident in which she witnessed Depp "coming at" Heard before Depp's bodyguard intervened. "She was shaking and upset. It felt like something that had been going on for a while."

She goes on to say Heard would lose weight when she was stressed and would "look skeletal at certain points in time". "I remember right before their wedding she had lost a significant amount of weight, to the point that I was asking her if she was eating regularly," she says.She recalls one period when Heard was "skin and bones" and "much thinner than she normally was".

#anti johnny depp #johnny depp #i stand with amber heard #amber heard

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years

Note

CONGRATS ON 600 BB! IM SO PROUD OF U!!! ok lemme know if i did this wrong but can i get 24 + fluff w/ mattsun? THANK U AND AGAIN CONGRATS!!

AHH MARZ🥺 thank you so much bb💕 i hope you like it! (please mattsun is so fine 🏃🏻‍♀️)

•

#24: “This reminded me of you.”

Mattsun always sent you a good morning text. Absolutely every morning. Sometimes it would be a sweet message, others he would joke about how he could hear your snores from his apartment. No matter what, Issei made your mornings a little brighter.

You turned over to the side of your bed, hearing your phone continuing to buzz. You yawned and picked it up. Three messages from your sweet Issei.

good morning sleepy head -sent 10:34am

mind if i stop by? -sent 10:35am

i’ll even be nice and make you some breakfast -sent 10:36am

You smiled at his kind gesture and of course wanted him over here as soon as possible.

get over here then ;) -sent 10:40am

be there in 5 <3 -sent 10:41am

You sat up from your bed and stretched out. You headed over to your bathroom, brushing your teeth then washing your face. You changed into a sweatshirt (one of Mattsun’s of course, he wouldn’t have it any other way) and went to your kitchen.

You soon heard a knock on your door, causing some excitement to rush through your veins. You opened the door, seeing your boyfriend still in his pajamas, holding a small bag. Before your could even greet him, he wrapped you up in his arms.

“Good morning to you too-” you chuckled. Mattsun smiled, patting the top of your head.

“Good morning. Hungry?”

“Very.”

“Perfect.”

He took your hand and went to your kitchen. You sat down at one of the stools and watched as Issei rummaged through your cabinets.

“What’s in the bag?” You asked. He smiled.

“It’s a surprise. I’ll give it to you later,” he explained. You nodded.

Mattsun prepared a lavish breakfast for the both of you. He brought both of your plates over to the table.

“Oh wait-” he set down your plate before going back to the kitchen, snatching the small bag. He sat down next to you and presented it.

“This reminded me of you.”

You took the bag from his hands with a smile. You took out the tissue paper to reveal a mug. The mug had a cartoon image of your favorite animal on it, with a small heart above its head.

“Oh Issei, I love it,” you gushed. You set the mug down to cup his cheeks, giving him a kiss.

“Here, I’ll wash it and put your tea in it,” he smiled.

Issei had found the mug at your favorite store and instantly knew he had to get it. There were a million things that reminded him of you. You were all he thought about.

Issei set down the warm mug in front of you before kissing the top of your head.

“Alright, let’s eat.”

•

🌈Willow’s 600 Event✨

#willow.🌸#willow.600🌸#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq #mattsun #matsukawa issei #issei x y/n #hq issei #issei mattsun #haikyuu issei #matsukawa drabble

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hotvampireadjacent · 4 months

Text

I got a garlic crusher and it fucking rules

#Marz’s kitchen #pasta night

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dianasson · 5 years

Text

The Uses of Blood

by Zeph Craven @dianaandpansson

A dear friend of mine, Marz (@HillbillyOracle on Tumblr) asked me about how blood has been used traditionally in witchcraft and magic and I decided to go all out with my response! Naturally, the traditions I’ll talk about here are from around Europe and European-derived cultures in the Americas, as these are the areas with which I have the most experience and feel qualified to speak about. Even this is limited by what has been written in English or Italian, which means I’m missing a lot of material! Of course, some of the following will be gory, bloody, or violent so please read with discretion (and TW: blood, animal abuse, violence). Many traditional uses of blood are inherently related to animal sacrifice or drawing blood from animals – I am not suggesting or condoning violence towards animals or people, only presenting the history and traditions as they have survived and as I best understand them.

The manners in which blood has been used in religion and mythology, or for magic and power, are both varied and continuous throughout European cultures. Some of these traditions have carried on, even if secluded to remote regions of Europe’s mountains, while others have truly fallen into obscurity. Witches, magicians, folklorists, classicists, and anyone who has seen a violent movie about cults will be familiar with a few topics covered here – if not in detail, then at least in dramatic atmosphere.

Sacrificial Blood The most common and widespread use of blood is as an offering to a spirit or deity. A simple and broad-sweeping discussion is best applied here; but I promise to not speak so generally in the following sections. Sacrificial blood is most often spilled from the neck of an animal – which is usually raised, treated, or traded in a sacred or special way. The animal might also be adorned with special ritual garbs, garlands, or ointments for the slaughter. While it is common in domestic and in secretive ceremony to offer up your own animal, in public or temple ritual the process of bringing the animal to the spirits and collecting its blood is almost always officiated by a priest or high-level initiate of some kind. This is a difficult and powerful act that must be overseen by someone trained in sacrifice, which is definitely practical to an extent – you have to know how to cut a throat – but I think the status of the officiant is mostly indicative of the intimacy and sanctity of such an offering. The moment of death is often celebrated by onlookers or participants, or else mourned as if their beloved were being slain. The blood may be spilled onto or into an altar or sacrificial pyre, or let flow into the water or soil at a sacred site such as a bog, hill, or field of repute. Frequently, the blood is collected instead. In many traditions, the blood of a sacrificed animal is sacred in itself – and the sacred is useful.

Sacrificial blood, being inherently hallowed, is an ancient and widespread tool for blessing. In fact, the English word “blessing” likely traces back to the word bledsian or ‘blood-sain’ (i.e. to hallow with blood). The blood gathered from a living sacrifice might be poured or sprinkled onto statues, walls, animals, or people. The sprinkling might be executed with a branch, rod, or sprig of a sacred herb. In chapter four of The Eyrbyggja Saga, the description of the temple notes that the bowl and rod used for sprinkling blood were kept on the altar-like stall in the center of all the god representations. Clearly, these tools were integral to the regular ceremonies of the temple.

Blood from a sacrificed animal is also a powerful, though complex, agent of purification. In ancient Greece, it was used to purify a shrine or temple 1 - frequently pig’s blood was applied as in Apollo’s case, while doves were common for Aphrodite, who abhorred swine. Purification with sacrificial blood would be accompanied by many rituals: supplications, prayers, offerings, and a disposal of the polluted remnants or lumata. It is important to note that not all blood was considered holy or ‘pure.’ In fact, the prime example of this kind of purification in Greece was almost a balancing of bloods: the sacrificial blood washed away the miasma or “pollution” of immoral bloodshed, such as murder. A murderer might suck out the blood of their victim and spit it forth repetitively to expiate the corruption of their crime. It wasn’t the physical blood of violence that needed cleansing, so much as the foul vengeful spirit of the person and the event, what we might now call ghosts and trauma. The animal’s lifeblood was sprinkled on the hands of the murderer where impure blood had shed, and then washed away. Some length of time (inconsistent through history and region) had to pass between the crime and the cleansing, and during that time the killer was somehow excluded from society. Though it is not difficult to make sense of this paradox, cleaning blood with blood was criticized even in the times of its practice. 2 In the previous example, the mechanics are only paradoxical if read hyper-literally. It is not as though any two insignificant bloods cancel each other out by contact; instead, it is something holy and potent that overpowers something wicked and polluted. Just as household cleaning agents must be engineered to bind to the dirt or oil they cleanse, there may also be some link between sacred blood attaching to dirty blood: the ‘like-affects-like’ principle making sacrifice a potent solution for this particular kind of miasma. There were epithets of deities that presided specifically over this ritual of purification and reintegration, called catharsis or κόθᾰρσῐς (kótharsis). According to Oxford Reference:

“The god who presided over purification from blood‐guilt was Zeus Katharsios, ‘Of purification’; this role derived from his general concern for the reintegration into society of displaced persons (cp. Zeus ‘Of suppliants’ and ‘Of strangers’). Apollo too could be seen as a ‘purifier of men's houses’ because his oracle at Delphi regularly gave advice on such matters.”

Violent bloodshed, childbirth, death, and corpses could all pollute a person or place with miasma, and sacrificial blood was only one tool of many for cleaning it away. Interestingly, the violent bloodshed of battle was less important and could simply be washed off. 3 With no greater significance is the trauma and poison of war-blood treated now. Later, on the outskirts of Greek cult-influences, menstrual blood was considered a pollutant that must be purified before entering temples – along with many other bodily fluids such as semen – yet menstrual fluids were rarely written of at all. 4 Some ‘scientific’ texts from this period suggest that menstruation is a form of purification itself, which could indicate why some might have considered the expulsed fluids impure. There are ancient Roman writers that speak of menstrual blood as a destructive force, in many ways that actually sound quite useful. However these are not the documentations of practices – rather products of solitary musings on agricultural metaphysics. These writers weren’t documenting, they were thinking ‘out-loud.’ Yet, it is not a far stretch to suppose that menstrual blood may have been considered a form of miasma in later Mediterranean sacred structures, especially looking at the modern practices of purification by sacrificial blood in some mountain communities of Georgia (Pshavi, Xevsuri, and Svaneti), which have strict taboos around menstruation in ritual structure, village composition, and social functions such as hunting. 5 These areas of Georgia were not once so distant from the cultures of the Greek empire, Colchis being a notable region of these mountains where the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece took place. In this story, Colchis is the kingdom of the infamous sorcerer Aeëtes and his daughter Medea, the witch, for whom Circe herself performed a purification of miasma by pig’s blood with prayers to Zeus of Suppliants. 6 The Kartvelian societies, in modern-day Georgia, were conquered in succession by Persia, Greece, and Rome. Where these rituals have survived (though some have supposed they were reinvented) in Georgia, the ganatvla sacrifice is carried out by a priest in a space kept pure and guarded with taboo, in the presence of St. George, his female partner, and/or other “children of God” (xvtisšvilni). Healing and benediction are prayed for as the bovid’s life spills over the supplicant’s arms, and this good blood is thought to drive out bad blood and impurities. One of the primary impurities is menstrual blood, and menstruating people are made to leave the general border of the village and pass their cycle in designated huts on the outskirts of the community.

In Xevsureti, the purification of religious spaces with sacrificial blood is so vital that they have creatively managed to introduce blood on structures restricted to humans. There are certain buildings so pure that even the highest priests cannot go near them, yet they soak snowballs in blood from the sacrifice and launch them at the walls from afar in blessing. 7 However, impure blood, such as the blood of a cat, might be spilled to sever the link between community and divinity, as seen in the ballads of the Zurab Cycle.

Well into the 20th century, rural Ireland would have been familiar with the bleeding of geese, cockerels and hens, pigs, or goats (though geese were most popular) on the eve of Martinmas (Nov. 11th). The animal would be offered to St. Martin and its blood spilled and sprinkled around the household, with some variation county to county. It was almost always spilled at the doorstep or on the doorposts, but often sprinkled in the corners of the house or kitchen as well, and this pattern was mimicked in the stables. Crosses were sometimes made with the blood on the floor and on the foreheads of the family members. Once, it would have been common in some counties to soak up the blood with cotton. This object was then hung up in the rafters, or else pressed against the body to relieve pains. The whole ritual kept out sickness and danger for the year. The reasoning behind the sacrifice, as well as the choice in animal, shifted frequently – usually having some connection to how the saint was killed, or else being a specific sickly animal promised earlier to St. Martin in exchange for its continued health until Martin’s Eve. Though blood-pudding was a relatively common dish, there were frequently taboos about using this sacrificed blood for consumption. Many good examples of this celebration can be found in the Duchas National Folklore Archive. Dr. Billy Mag Fhloinn has argued that this Martinmas blood-sacrifice is a remnant of older Samhain traditions – as the shift to Gregorian calendar would put November 11th (modern) around October 30th in the Julian calendar. I hesitate to indulge this theory, as I do not see all pivotal rituals, games, and social functions transferring dates to match the contemporary calendric year except this singular rite, but Mag Fhloinn himself is hesitant and cautious enough. I think it highly plausible that this is a purely Irish-Catholic ceremony, incorporating rituals that inherently reveal the functions of the natural world according to older Irish world-views: in other words, that blood sacrifice as a means of purification and protection was not in contradiction with the sanctity of God and the Church. It just worked, so it kept on.

This is actually amazing, considering the contradiction of blood as a purifying agent (mentioned previously) was such a severe point for philosophers and theologians over a thousand years prior, though that ilk is by definition less concerned with what is practical. Blood sacrifice is inherently dramatic. Like orgies, infanticide, and cannibalism, Greeks and Romans eventually used the image of blood sacrifice as a polemic tool for propaganda against Pagans, Jewish communities, and more distant cultures. Most especially utilized was the image of far-off ‘barbarians’ sacrificing humans, a point that some Roman historians used to criticize their own history [read: chart their sophistication.] By the 3rd Century CE – things are getting a little Christian now – even animal blood sacrifice was brought into suspicion in the high seats of Roman imperial religion, scholarship, and governance. Pythagoreans and Platonists moved away from the older practical applications of purification as a directly effective ritual, bringing catharsis to a metaphysical, philosophical, and eventually psychological light. 8

Initiation by Blood Unspecific to tradition, there are some initiatory rituals that call on blood (be it from sacrificed animals, the initiate, or even divine blood) to be reborn. A striking example of this is the taurobolium: an initiation of priests into the cult of the goddess Cybele, who came from Asia Minor where she was worshiped for millennia under unknown names. Her oldest appearance is from around 6,000 BC in Phrygia, though the detailed descriptions of this ritual come from later Roman writers after her cult had travelled to that peninsula, where she was called Ma’tris Magnae (Great Mother) or Ma’tris Deum (Mother of Gods). 9 In English, she is often referred to as Magna Mater but I’ve always found that bothersome; I think if you’re going to use a Latinate name then use the real Latin name! If that’s too hard, just translate it and call her Great Mother. Her cult was perhaps most infamous for its priesthood of male eunuchs and its castrated-animal sacrifices – very threatening concepts to the imperial patriarchy.

The initiate would stand in a pit that had been covered by planks of wood, in which holes had been made, and a sacrificial bull would be lowered onto the planks. As the initiate covered his ribbon-crowned head with his toga, the bull was killed and its blood released by spear thrusts and tugs that widened the wounds. The initiate would emerge from the pit, unrecognizably drenched in hot, smelly blood. According to Prudentius, the blood was even expected to be let into the mouth, which strikes me as indicative that you are not only purging outside influences with the holiness of the sacrifice but also inner impurities and insufficiencies, making your whole self ready for service to the Great Goddess. Some accounts say a goat or ram might be killed in conjunction with the bull as a sacrifice to Ma’tris Magnae’s lover, Attis. Both animals would be castrated. 10

One brief example from the Greek Magical Papyri (Papyri Gracae Magicae, or PGM) describes a ritual of initiation into the mysteries of magic by drinking the blood of a white cockerel (or rooster) before jumping into the Nile. 11 Submersion into natural, especially sacred, bodies of water is common in initiation rituals throughout Europe and the Mediterranean, but this is a pretty unique application of cockerel blood. White and black cockerels are common fauna in Euro-centric magical recipes along with cats, goats and rams, owls, lapwings, and doves or pigeons. A white cockerel has the properties of a high masculine divinity, of an upper-worldly or celestial persuasion, and might therefore be used in magic for success, love, conquering, protection, or appealing to that same divinity. In this initiation ceremony, we might understand the consumption of its blood as integrating these properties to the self, alongside a purification and rebirth in the sacred river.

Jumping forward about 1,200 years, we see a very different use of blood in a very different kind of initiation. Isobel Gowdie gave a confession in 1662 to crimes of witchcraft near Auldearn, Scotland. She gave many vivid accounts of her illicit outings with the Devil, the fairies, and her coven. The following scene describes the renunciation of her baptism and the ritual of being re-baptized by the Devil:

“Margaret Brodie, in Aulderne, held me up to the Divell, until he re-baptised me, and marked me in the shoulder, and with his mouth sucked out my blood at that place, and spouted it in his hand, and sprinkling it upon my head and face, he said, ‘I baptize ye, Janet, to my self, in my own name!’”

Janet is the new name bestowed upon Isobel by the Devil here, her un-Christian name you could say. Her own blood is applied, in place of the baptismal water or oil. It is noteworthy that the blood is sucked into the Devil’s mouth before being used to anoint her, perhaps cycling it through his divinity and imbuing it with ‘unholiness.’ This initiation might be seen as necessary for a witch to work with the Devil. Since the Catholic ritual of baptism is a cleansing of sins and an exorcism of the Devil in its own right, it might prevent such ungodly powers working within a person. In this light, the consumption and sprinkling of Isobel’s blood may function as a re-administration of sin into her soul, thus severing her connection with God.

Another 277 years later, and an ocean away, we find a new kind of blood in the initiation of witches and magicians. There is blood to be found in folk stories of witches sacrificing animals (black cats and black cockerels) to the Devil for initiation and ensuing magic throughout the Appalachian and Ozark Mountains, yet the most fascinating example is neither a direct sacrifice nor an ingredient. A story from Wise County, Virginia recounts how a young man gained his powers. After eight mornings of rigorous ritual process:

“On the ninth morning, he took his gun and the silver bullet with him. He shot the bullet toward the sun as it came up over the ridge. They had told him that if the sun looked as if it were dripping blood as it came up, then he would be a witch.”

The ninth morning didn’t present him with all the required signs of confirmation, and it took him two full years to complete his initiation as a ‘conjure man.’ Shooting the sun follows many clearly chthonic and sacrilegious rituals, which might indicate that this is a metaphor of wounding God and denouncing him. The dripping blood is confirmation of the initiate’s power to stand against the Christian God, who was once frequently associated with solar imagery. This is truly speculative, yet if the symbolism holds in context, this would be an example of divine blood within initiatory divination. 12

Bloody Witchcraft Now that we’ve dipped our toes into early modern witchcraft, let’s go in deeper. When the image of the early modern witch is merged with the image of blood, one might first jump to the scenes of paranoia previously listed: orgies, infanticide, and cannibalism. Thanks to twelfth century theologians and sixteenth century Protestants, we can now add dramatic demonic sacrifice to that list. Despite the excitable and repetitive fanfare of the Witch Craze, there are many intriguing elements of blood-work in witchcraft to be examined besides the initiations discussed previously.

In late 1500s England, it was common knowledge that familiar spirits (i.e. beings provided to a witch or magician by the Devil, God, its previous owner, or the monarchy of Fairy to help with magic and mischief) might be fed with blood from the witch’s body. While milk, bread, or butter was the most common offering, blood remained a more fanatical portrayal for the popular culture of the courts and taverns. It was common knowledge that a witch might feed their familiar spirit with blood let from the mark left on them by the Devil, perhaps at initiation. 13

In continental Europe, examples abound of witches that feed on blood from quite ancient to very modern folklore. The definition of “witch” is blurred in this context: they might be incorporeal beings that can afflict, abduct, and loot not unlike the fairies, sucking the blood from men and babes in the night. 14 The witch may instead be your very tangible neighbor: unlikeable and affronting, who frequents Sabbats and wets their gullet with blood while feasting on infant corpses before dancing erotically for the Adversary. There is an association with witches and the creature strix (screecher), as blood-sucking entities 15 that find victims in the night. Through evolution or syncretism the strix became strigoi, and was related with vampyr, and vrykolakas: creatures of a sorcerous nature that thrive on human blood and remains. Incorporeal, animal, or humanoid witches might feed on blood for power and longevity. The latter might use it to attain those non-human shapes. Witches in the Balkans were said to use children’s blood as an ingredient in their transformative ointments and unguents 16 – though infant fat was far more common elsewhere on the continent, I doubt much effort would have been made to wash clean their diabolical cooking lard so we can bet on some blood in there too. In Scandinavian witch trials, there is an example of the blood and pelt of a cat being adorned to take on its very form. 17 For witches, blood is sustenance and life or it is a gory detail in scenes of taboo ceremony. If the story of any particular witch’s ritual incorporates elements of more Abrahamic magic, then its use of blood will align better with those covered in the grimoire section below. As Matteo Duni discusses throughout his book Under the Devil’s Spell, the intersection of witches and literate magicians in early modern Europe was broader than many suppose, and these folks talked and traded secrets quite a lot.

Blood as Medicine Blood has medicinal functions as well as diabolical. In older Euro-centric medical thought, our blood might carry forces within it that induce illness. The spiritual and the scientific were not so juxtaposed once, and it may have been a build-up of that hot, red humor or a malefic presence in the blood that caused a fever, high blood pressure, apoplexy, and/or headaches. The persistent cure was letting that excessive/bad blood out of the body: i.e. bloodletting.

Some cures prescribe blood as a magico-medical ingredient. In County Kerry, Ireland a swelling or injury in the leg could be cured by taking the blood from a cat’s ear and drawing a ring with it around the affected area. There was also a belief in some areas of the country that the blood of people in certain families could cure specific diseases, for example folks with the last name of Cahill could make symbols with the blood of their little finger and speak a prayer to cure someone of “wild-fire” disease. The blood of a black cat could cure the same affliction. In the Pennsylvania-Dutch magico-medical text Long Lost Friend, we find a cure for epilepsy in drinking the blood of a dove.

Blood in Divination A common form of divination in North and Central America is divination by egg, or oomancy. The egg is passed ritualistically over the patient’s body before being cracked into water. The signs that the floating whites and yolk make can be read to tell fortunes or diagnose problems. Any spots or streaks of blood in the mixture are considered an incredibly bad omen.

The shades of the dead around the ancient Mediterranean would feast on spilled blood, and the blood of all-black animals was an efficacious offering to them. In the Odyssey, most-likely written down in the 8th century BC, Circe gives Odysseus advice for consulting with the dead: in a particular cave, a trench was to be dug (a proper altar for underworldly spirits) into which libations of milk, honey, sweet wine, water and barley grain were made. Finally, sheep were led to the edge of the pit where Odysseus cut their throats and let the dark blood spill in, all the while making prayers to dwellers in the house of Hades. He stands with his sword between the pit of blood and the shades when they come, postponing their desire to feast on it and tantalizing them until he receives his intended counsel. Over 2,000 years later, this ritual of consorting with the dead has survived in the grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet, though understandably changed and with a subtly different interpretation on the means of summoning:

“Now these souls…are easily allured by the [body-] like vapours, liquors and savours. From hence it is that the souls of the dead are not called forth, without blood, or the putting of some part of the forsaken body & we perfume with fresh blood in the calling forth of Shadows, with the bones of the dead, and flesh, with Eggs, Milk, honey, Oil and the like which attribute a fit means for the souls to assume their bodies.” 18

Around the 1st century BC, Varro also mentions the pouring of blood into a divination bowl to draw the spirits of the deceased – who see much more than we – to the diviner. 19 Blood in Magic In magic, the main uses of blood draw on its continued association with its original host. An animal’s blood may be included in a spell because of that animal’s magical properties and associations. A person’s blood contains their essence and maintains a link with the target or the spell-caster respectively, which is manipulated through ritual. The connection with the source of blood, or perhaps the implied sacrifice, also gives power to writing magical words and symbols.

Personal effects are bodily fluids or trimmings that are included in spells to increase the power of the ritual. For example, a figure of a person made in wax or clay would have some power over the target just by being shaped and named for them. However, the inclusion of blood, hair, or nail clippings dramatically increases the efficacy of the magic. Even personal items, such as bits of clothing, are useful, though much more so if they’ve soaked up some of the target’s sweat. The blood of the spell-caster might be administered to their victim, disguised in food or drink, as a consistent method of forcing love and seduction. Sometimes the type of blood fed to a victim is unspecific: sometimes it is menstrual, and other times it is even an animal’s. Usually, the latter would be a dove or pigeon, which are associated with Venus.

Blood could also be used in undoing magic and breaking spells. In Hungary, 1730, a Mrs. Mihály Jóna presented a cure for the evil eye to her patient: the mother was to procure three drops of blood from the little finger of the person who “saw” her daughter (gave her the evil eye) and to drip it into her daughter’s eyes. This would relieve her of the illness that the evil eye caused. 20 In early modern England there was a rather specific belief that a witch sighting their own blood would have all their spells broken. This obviously led to some relatively violent attacks on suspected witches. Perhaps a callback to the previously discussed purification by sacrificial blood, a Devon cunning-woman named Agnes Hill performed this ritual to cure a woman of sickness by witchcraft:

“Hill then said we must kill the cock, and desired her mother to cut its throat, which she did with a razor. The cock was held over the new earthen pan, holding the fasting water [her mother’s urine] and the blood, which was mingled together, and then put over the fire to boil. Hill then cut open the cock, and took out its heart, and told her mother to stick seven new pins into it, likewise seven new needles, and nine blackthorn prickles. The ash wood was put on the fire under the pan, the heart was hung up to roast before the fire, and it was afterwards thrown into the fire, pins, needles, and all.” 21

Here the cockerel’s older associations with the sun, success, and conquering might be invoked to drive away the malefic influences of the witch. Perhaps the celestial masculine divinities of which it was once symbolic were even replaced by or subtly aligned with the Christian god of Agnes’ time in 19th century Devonshire.

The weightiest source of blood-use in magic comes from the grimoires of continental Europe, Iceland, and England. Sometimes, the application of specific animals’ blood seems to break from the overall patterns, and the text itself can seem to be sewn together from opposite ends of missing sentences. The way these tomes were passed on was often by hand-copying each word, and the transference of some very ancient rituals over the span of many hundreds of years has surely let some material and context fall into the cracks of history. Due to the overwhelming and obscure specificities of the material, these examples will be found predominantly in the post-script notes.

Properties of animals in folk magic and grimoire traditions directly correlate to the applications of their blood. To quote Agrippa, in a hyper-literal example, “It is also believed that the blood of a bear, if it be sucked out of her wound, doth increase strength of body, because that animal is the strongest creature.” 22 Every animal has some magical properties, but these associations definitely change over time and by location. There are very common animals, and persistent patterns, that allow parallels and conclusions to be drawn. In continental European and American folk magic for example a cat might represent a woman and a dog might stand for a man. Bits of those animals are used to affect their respective genders and provide a symbolic link to the magical targets. In the Balkans, blood of a dog and cat were sprinkled on the path between wandering husband and his paramour to cause dislike between them, which could be read differently as the essence of two animals that like to fight being used to cause discord. The color of the animals would have likely been relevant, but this is not included in the account. 23 In the continental and English grimoires there is usually an implied proper procedure for procuring blood from an animal – not just where to cut, but when, and accompanied by which exorcisms, etc. That blood was used in the consecration of sorcerous ritual tools; as an ingredient in or as itself a magical ink; combined into a perfume with herbs and other fleshy or mineral bits; mixed into oil to make a lamp; or anointed as a refreshing face-mask!

If the blood must come from the magician, it is almost always drawn from the little finger, or else it does not specify. The magician’s own blood is used for writing sacred words and incantations, mostly in love spells and cures – though in at least one instance for the conjuration of spirits with a more arcane intention. In Long Lost Friend there is a different sort of love administered, with the magician feeding a dog their blood to create an instant bond between the two.

However, Icelandic magic uses the magician’s blood drawn from specific and varied areas of the body such as certain toes or fingers, or the thigh. Blood would be traced into carved symbols and words on wood, bone, skin, or stone. One example is how the witch Þuríðr uses magic to defeat a great Icelandic hero, rubbing her blood into runes on a beached log while speaking a charm, and walking around it counter-clockwise. 24

Bloodstains Blood leaves a mark: that has always been said. Places of great bloodshed are sacred to the spirits of Mars in grimoire magic. They are also very feasible settings for raising the dead. However, the most famous and infamous bloodstains are a break from the previous sections; 25 they are not made from animals or mortals. When the blood of gods is spilled, there is a creation to it and a power to it. Jesus, Chronos, and Prometheus all had blood spill from them in torture or death. Whatever this blood touched was changed; adding colors to animals, plants, and minerals, or else creating powerful new flora that have great use to any magician. The spilling of the blood of Jesus is a pervasive and consistent image in magical charms and prayers of all sorts. It is his blood that is consumed in the wine of every communion ritual. In the Prose Edda, the gods of the Æsir and Vanir formed a peace treaty, and from the spittle of their treaty they created a man of pure wisdom named Kvasir, who entertains them and travels the world answering many riddles and questions. The dwarves, Fjalar and Galarr, who value little above what they can create and forge, pulled Kvasir aside, slitting his throat and draining his blood into vats of honey for making mead. This mead carried his wisdom, scholarliness, and poesy forever through his blood. It was once said that whoever had a genius for poetry had drunk from this mead. In 20th century Irish manuscripts from the Duchas archive, there are many entries about bloodstains from violent deaths where the ugliness of the crime was so wicked the blood refuses to be cleaned. There are also many stains on stones and churches from martyred priests that likewise never fade, in which we see a touch of the divine. The blood of the otherworld neighbors, the fairies, has also stained many a stone throughout Ireland’s counties, said to be the sign of a battle between the Good Neighbors. Whether it’s godhood, otherworldliness, or extreme violence, some blood doesn’t wash away – my sympathies to Lady Macbeth.

The way we look at blood in ritual has undergone many cycles of change and of repetition, traces of which can be seen in our current cultures. From practical applications, and cosmological ramifications, to a prop on a stage of fear, there are examples from literal thousands of years ago through to this past Sunday. Sacrifices and stains surround us, and we walk around with this potent fluid sloshing through our bodies, invisibly waiting to be tapped and put to use in casting enchantments or feeding our secret spirits. I hope this has been illuminating to you, in some degree, and I beg forgiveness for any major oversights or misinterpretations in this text. Be nice to your pets please. See post-script for endnotes, and for examples of blood in grimoire texts.

Examples from the Grimoires:

In no particular order, here are examples of blood in grimoire texts. Where unspecified, assume the blood is applied as ink. Enjoy.

From the Greater Key of Solomon: Book II – Many sorcerous tools are dipped in various bloods as part of their preparation. A ceremonial white-handled dagger is sanctified in blood of a gosling bird and the juice of a pimpernel and engraved before being wrapped in white silk. The famous black-handled knife used to strike fear in the heart of spirits should be dipped in blood of a black cat with juice of hemlock and engraved before being wrapped in black silk. The ritual sickle is dipped in blood of magpie and juice of mercury-herb. This text also has a procedure on the proper purifications, rituals, and prayers needed to take blood from a bat and other animals for use in magic. There are instructions for general animal sacrifice and it does specify that the animals should be virgins (yes in the sexual sense), and it includes words that should be said later when spilling the blood in Chapter XXII. Book I – The blood of a black hen is used on hare skin to prevent a hunter from his bounty. Blood and fat of a dead man are used in an oil lamp to reveal hidden treasure. For spells of trickery and deceit the ‘pen of art’ should be dipped in the blood of a bat previously procured in the correct manner for use. Pentacles – Blood of a screech owl in conjunction with a swallow pen is to be used for the Second Pentacle of Jupiter, and the blood of a bat in the Seventh Pentacle of Mars.

From the Black Pullet: The magician’s wand is stained with lamb’s blood in its creation and sanctification.

From Agrippa: Perfumes – Blood of a white cockerel for Sun perfume, goose blood for Moon, bat for Saturn, stork or swallow for Jupiter, blood of a man and of a black cat for Mars, pigeon (or dove) for Venus (boar’s blood in Arthur Gauntlet), and magpie for Mercury.

From the Sword of Moses: No.55 Uses your own blood as ink on an egg for a love spell and No.64 Uses your own blood as ink on both your doors for the same. How embarrassing!

From the 6th and 7th Books of Moses: Writing magical circles with the blood of young white doves for the inquisition and enslaving of spirits, and the blood of butterflies for writing the seals of the Seven Great Princes who are nature and treasure spirits.

8th Book of Moses: Baboons blood is used in a spell to send dreams to your target.

From the Lemegeton I: Goetia: Writing another seal for binding spirits with the blood of a black cockerel that has never mated with a hen.

From the Grimoirum Verum: Your own blood from your little (Mercurial) finger for writing the conjurations of spirits, the use of white pigeon (dove) blood to inscribe names of the Hebrew God on a mirror for divination, and To Make a Girl Dance in the Nude, which involves the blood of a bat on a blessed stone over which mass has been said. It is a very unpleasant spell: “She will undress and be completely naked, and will dance increasingly until death, if one does not remove the character; with grimaces and contortions which will cause more pity than desire.” Quite disturbing!

From Grimoire of Honorius: While creating a sacred lambskin to avoid perversion and corruption from the demons the magician will engage upon, the lamb is sacrificed, but the magician must make an effort not to spill the blood of the sacrificial lamb onto the earth. Perhaps this is an avoidance of old-pagan blood-sacrificial dirtiness, or avoidance of telluric impurity?

From SLOANE MS 3824 (called the Book of Treasure Spirits by Rankine): The invocation symbol for the spirit Mamon is drawn in lapwing or black cat blood, and in discovering a treasure trove the blood of a black cockerel is used variously as ink.

From the Book of Gold: Psalm 43 can be written in bird’s blood to destroy an enemy, Psalm 59 in billy goat’s blood for releasing the bonds of your own actions, Psalm 60 in white cockerel blood to bring back your wife, Psalm 90 in dove blood to protect and embolden fearful children, and Psalm 103 is written in bat or black hen blood for a love spell. Psalm 136 should be drawn in menstrual blood to stop blood – the phrasing in the text implies this may be a charm to staunch menstrual bleeding specifically.

From the Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet: Bat blood to make spent money return; dove blood in a protection spell; blood from the finger of the magician in a cure for the falling sickness; ant eggs and blood of a white hen anointed on face let you see wonders; blood of a lapwing, white owl, raven, mole, hen etc. (super-bloody-murder-bath) for finding and conversing with familiar spirits; bat’s blood onto an apple before it falls, given to eat as a love spell; cockerel and sparrow blood written on a candle to summon a woman to it; white pigeon blood on green silk to attain the love of all people; bleed a bat with glass or flint and write “J” and touch to target who shall follow you, this can be tested first on a dog; and the blood of a turtledove written as a charm on virgin parchment and sewn into a pouch to be worn for success in playing dice.

Book of Oberon: This is really drawn from many older texts, but just to give this book some light – the blood of a lapwing may be suffumigated with lignum aloes to produce visions of spirits. For shooting competitions there is a ritual that includes dipping the arrows in the blood of your left finger.

From Papyri Graecae Magicae: # IV 1928-2005 – Serpent blood ink for binding a restless dead spirit with Helios for love magic, the following entry uses blood of an ass, eel, and falcon similarly. #IV 2145-2240 – Uses the blood of someone who died violently mixed with myrrh resin on bay leaf for an oracular divination.

From the Galdrabók: No. 34 Is a love spell placing worm or serpent blood where the target will walk over it along with other charms. No.45 Requires blood drawn from the big toe and right hand of the magician, which should be smeared on the yarrow herb as well as the required staves, in a spell to uncover a thief. No. 46 Is the famous fart rune, for which blood should be drawn from the thigh. 47 Also requires blood from the big toe to create the Helm of Hiding.

From Kreddur: No.15 Discover a thief using blood from under the left-hand middle finger to draw the appropriate staves.

Endnotes: 1 Parker, Robert. Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion. Oxford, Clarendon Press/Oxford University Press, 1986, pp. 27-30. 2 Ibid, p. 372. 3 Ibid, p. 114 4 Ibid, p. 101. 5 Tuite, Kevin. “Highland Georgian Paganism – Archaism or Innovation?” Annual for the Society of the Study of the Caucuses, Université de Montréal, 1996, pp. 284. Parker, Robert. Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion. Oxford, Clarendon Press/Oxford University Press, 1986, p. 370 6 Tuite, Kevin. “Highland Georgian Paganism – Archaism or Innovation?” Annual for the Society of the Study of the Caucuses, Université de Montréal, 1996, p.6 7 Fraser, Kyle. “Roman Antiquity: the Imperial Period.” Cambridge History of Magic and Witchcraft in the West, edited by David J. Collins, S.J., Cambridge University Press, p.133. 8 The distinction between Pythagorean pagans and sorcerous polytheists is mentioned by Porphyry, in an analysis of blood/flesh sacrifice vs. ascetic and moral acts of devotion. 9 Turcan, Robert. The Cults of the Roman Empire. Oxford, Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 1996, p.28. 10 Ibid, p. 52. 11 The Greek Magical Papyri: In Translation. Edited by Hans Dieter Betz. University of Chicago Press, 1986, PGM IV. 26-51, pp. 37-38. 12 Combs, Josiah Henry. “Sympathetic Magic in the Kentucky Mountains: Some Curious Folk-Survivals.” The Journal of American Folklore, vol. 27, no. 105, 1914, p. 329. 13 Wilby, Emma. Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits. Chicago, Sussex Academic Press, 2013, pp. 82 & 109. Along with milk and bread by around In 1566, Joan Prentice let her familiar, Bid, suck blood from her cheek before bed. In 1582, Margery Sammon’s mother told her that the familiar the latter passed on must be given milk, if not they would suck her blood instead. 14 Scottish and Manx fairies, if not appeased by offerings of fresh water and bread, might drink your blood instead. 15 Perhaps screech owls or bats. 16 Vukanović, T.P. “Witchcraft in the Central Balkans I: Characteristics of Witches. Folklore, Vol.100, 1989, p. 12. 17 Willumsen, Liv Helene. “Children Accused of Witchcraft in 17th-Century Finnmark.” Scandinavian Journal of History, vol. 38, 2013, p. 27. 18 The Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet, edited by David Rankine. Avalonia, 2011, p. 208. 19 Gordon, Richard. “Good to Think: Wolves and Wolf-Men in the Graeco-Roman World.” Werewolf Histories, edited by Willem de Blécourt, Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, p. 45. 20 Kristóf, Ildikó Sz. “The Social Background of Witchcraft Accusations in Early Modern Debrecen and Bihar County.” Witchcraft and Demonology in Hungary and Transylvania, edited by Transylvania Gábor Klaniczay and Éva Pócs, Palgrave Macmillan, 2017, p. 35. 21 Davies, Owen and Easton, Timothy. “Cunning Folk and the Production of Magical Artefacts.” Physical Evidence for Ritual Acts, Sorcery and Witchcraft in Christian Britain, edited by Ronald Hutton, Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, p. 214. 22 Agrippa, Henry Cornelius. Three Books of Occult Philosophy or Magic, edited by Willis F. Whitehead, Hahn & Whitehead, 1898, p. 73. 23 Vukanović, T.P. “Witchcraft in the Central Balkans I: Characteristics of Witches. Folklore, Vol.100, 1989, p. 15. 24 Mitchell, Stephen A. Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages. Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011, p. 94. 25 Perhaps excepting the Appalachian witch’s ritual evidence discussed in the Initiation section. Image Credits (in order): Blood in water. source unknown (anyone know it?), accessed via google images Feb. 3rd 2020. Blood saining, from Beowulf and Grendell (2005), dir. Sturla Gunnarsson. accessed via Facebook, Feb. 1st 2020. Bainbridge, Alexander, 2015. Mindia toasts the memory of Iakshar after the sheep sacrifice, Beer and blood sacrifices: meet the Caucus pagans who worship ancient deities, Indipendent.co UK, accessed Feb. 1st 2020. Bleeding for St. Martin, posted in 2005 on Sligo Heritage, original source unknown, accessed Feb. 1st 2020. Taurobolium, or Consecration of the Priests of Cybele under Antoninus Pius (Detail).Engraving by Bernhard Rode (undated, ca. 1780). Accessed via Wikipedia Feb 3rd. 2020. Witches being baptized by the Devil, or Tiercement le confirme en cette opinion luy grauant de ses ongles le front pour d'illec tollir le Chresme & signe baptismal. (Fig. 5.). Woodcut. Accessed via Project Gutenberg Feb. 3rd 2020. Blood in wine glass, source unknown (again, anyone?), accessed via google images Feb. 1st 2020. Blood on hand, source unknown (again?), accessed via Giphy Feb. 3rd 2020. Crown of thorns, (possibly) @Doug21, 2007, on Flickr, accessed via Flickr Feb. 3rd 2020.

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flowersarefreetherapy · 2 years

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Whump prompt: whumpee having to do the dishes . . . In boiling water

#not saying this is based on personal experience but …..#I also sliced my finger wide open on a broken dish #tonight be a whumpy night #in the kitchen #marz actually talks #whump prompt #whumpee #whump senario #whump

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whumpyourdamnpears · 6 months

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Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Two

CW: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, poc whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), use of restraints

Thank you Marz, Gen, and Beck for beta reading <3

Word Count: 2,406 Previous Next

Dani’s feet skipped beneath her as she ran to the other side of the kitchen. Behind her, the man pulled himself up from the wall, still rubbing at his jaw. She had maybe a minute before the shock wore off and he’d catch up with her.

She ran up to the other girl in the cabin, frantic.

The girl was pressing herself back against the counter, breathing heavily, eyes wild and terrified. It hadn’t registered to Dani yet that it might be because of her.

“What are you doing?” Dani demanded, panting. “Run!”

The girl looked at her like she was crazy. It was only when they were in such close proximity to each other that Dani could make out the blonde of her eyebrows, the rosiness in her cheeks. Her piercing blue eyes.

The same features of the man, just arranged differently on her face.

Dani backed away from her, now realizing her mistake. Of course the girl wouldn’t run. Why would she? She was clearly part of the man’s family.

The man started to move forward, and Dani knew it was time to go.

The front door slammed into the wall as Dani yanked it open, swinging as she bounded down the wooden steps leading off the porch. She ran down the dirt driveway and quickly turned to see how far behind her he was, taking in the sight of the small wood cabin she’d just run from. The man rested against the frame of the front door, looking out at her. Blonde hair peeked out from behind him. “Let her run.” Dani barely made out. “She won’t get far.”

Dani staggered to the treeline, still staring behind her, before finally turning back around to run. She didn’t have time to wait for him to follow her. The sun was already starting to set, golden light washing over the woods ahead of her, and she had no idea where the fuck she even was to begin with. She would probably get lost. But being lost in the woods was a lot better than whatever was waiting for her back at that cabin.

It was only a few minutes in when Dani wished she had her shoes. Somewhere between the parking garage and the cabin, she’d lost them. God knows why he’d taken them off of her. Maybe he didn’t want her tracking dirt around his study. Maybe he had a sick perversion for feet. The reason wasn’t important. What was, however, was now she was lacking a very vital form of protection against the elements. No shoes, no socks. Just her bare feet scraping across the various twigs and little stones strewn across the ground in front of her.

Dying sunlight peeked through the trees as Dani continued through. The birds screamed as she passed through, flying up from the brush and into the trees. Her feet were raw. Her ankles were itching like mad. Her chest felt like it was on fire. It was becoming apparent how truly lost she was. There was no end in sight to the trees. There was nothing to follow, no landmarks, nothing to take note of as she ran.

If he didn’t find her, would anyone?

A tree branch floated in Dani’s path. She pushed past it and began to step forward.

A jolt of red-hot pain pulsed through Dani’s legs, sending her careening towards the ground. She couldn’t help the scream that ripped out of her throat as she hit the ground, grasping for the source of the pain. Her ankles were hot to the touch, inflamed and pulsating. She gripped onto one of them as she laid face down in the dirt, gasping for air. The sensation continued, the shocks unrelenting. As Dani’s hands clamped around her ankle, she could feel a small, almost undetectable bump under the hot flesh, a bump that hadn’t been there before. Gasping, Dani let go of her ankle and pushed it away from her.

The shocks stopped.

Dani laid there, staring down at the leg she had just pushed away from her, face burrowed in soil and rotting leaves, stupefied. Her ankle still burned with the aftershock, the muscles of her lower legs cramped and aching, but the source of the pain had simply… stopped. Dani began to pull her ankle back towards her, and as she did, the painful sensation came back to life. She shoved her leg away, and again, the sensation stopped.

What the hell?

She knew she couldn’t stand, as any time Dani pulled her legs towards her, the shocks came back. Tears pricked in Dani’s eyes. This couldn’t be it. She’d tried too hard for this to be the end.

As she began to bury her face into the earth to stifle the keening noise that’d begun to come out of her mouth, she could hear the sound of rumbling in the distance getting closer and closer.

No.

No, no, no.

Eventually, the rumbling of the pickup truck’s engine cut out, and the sound of one of its doors slamming echoed throughout the woods. The birds stopped screaming. Footsteps crunched through the brush, making their way towards her. Eventually, the footsteps reached the clearing, stopping right beside her.

“Are you proud of yourself?” The man asked.

Dani said nothing as she turned her head to look over at him. He stood there, arms crossed and eyebrows cocked as he stared down at her prone form. She could only imagine how pitiful she looked, face down in the dirt, with muddy cheeks from where the dirt and her tears mixed. She quickly wiped her face, sniffing.

“You weren’t very successful, you know. Only got about a mile out before you hit the fence line.” He looked past her, sighing.

Fence line?

As the man reached down to grab her leg, Dani began kicking wildly to avoid his hands, stopping only when another shock hit her ankle. “What am I gonna do with you?” He muttered, wrapping his hand around the bottom of her calf. Her skin burned where he touched her.

As the man pulled her towards him, the movement shifted Dani from her shoulder onto her back, her head bouncing against the earth as he dragged her forward. “You know,” he said, grunting. “I think there’s a lesson to be learned here. And I’m getting the feeling you only learn with experience.” He twisted her around so her foot was just over where she’d been laying, her back a few feet behind it. “You see, years ago, I had an electric fence dug around the property for situations just like this. Now, you don’t got a collar on or nothin’ to set it off, then you could just find a way to take it off, but I found another means to get the same reaction.” He fondled the skin around her ankle, and as he did, a small lump rolled around under his fingertips.

Son of a bitch.

“It seems like you already found out what happens when you step onto the fence line, but I think it’d be good for the both of us if we revisited that.”

Before Dani could say a word, the man was already dragging her back over the spot where she had fallen. Try as she might, the scream that ripped out of her throat once her leg made contact with the fence couldn’t be stopped. The fire erupting from her ankle traveled up her leg and hips and into her chest, burning everything in its path. It was too much. She couldn’t breathe. Her attempts to crawl back from the spot were unsuccessful, as the man’s hold on her ankle was too strong for her to break. She could feel her body begin to flail from the pain, her arms smacking down onto the ground.

Before long, the man pulled her leg off of the fence line. Dani gasped for air as the sensation stopped, going still. Dropping her leg, the man walked to her side, bent down, and quietly said, “Next time you run, I’m leaving you out here.”

Dani laid there for a moment, panting for air, as the man stayed crouched beside her.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet?”

Dani swallowed, nodding.

“And what’ll happen if you try something like this again?”

Dani said nothing. The man began to reach for her leg again. “You’ll leave me out here,” Dani croaked, throat raw from screaming.

“Damn right, I will.” The man glanced behind him and sighed. “It’s getting dark. We better get movin’.”

As the man dug his arm under her legs and back to lift her up, Dani squirmed, uncomfortable from the proximity. The man gave her a scathing look. She stopped squirming. He hoisted her off the ground like she was nothing, carrying her through the brush towards the bed of his red pickup truck. Dani did her best to resist leaning her body against his as he carried her, but there was only so much distance she could put between the two of them while she was in his arms. He was probably strong enough to outpower her physically, if it came to it. Definitely strong enough to toss Dani into the bed of his truck like she was a sack of potatoes.

Dani swore to herself as she hit the truck bed with a resounding thud, curling in on herself once she was in it. She’d fucked up. She had one chance, and she had managed to fuck it up. She should’ve noticed that something weird was going on with her legs. Then she could’ve done something about it, before she decided to make a run for it and effectively fuck up any shot she could’ve had at freedom.

The truck rumbled as it started, and soon it was pulling out of the trees and down the beaten dirt road it drove up on. Dani almost had the mind to throw herself out of the truck bed, but didn’t in the interest of less pain. It didn’t matter. The drive decided to throw her around the truck bed anyways.

It felt like forever when the truck finally pulled to a stop. She could hear the ignition turn off and the keys jingle as they left the key fob before the eventual click and swing of the truck door opening. Dani nearly jumped out of her skin as the door slammed shut, scrambling to sit up before he got to the back of the truck.

When the tailgate swung open, he was there, offering his hand.

“What are you doing?” Dani asked, eyeing his hand in disgust.

“Offering you a hand down.” The man said. “Unless, of course, you’d like to brave the way down yourself.”

Dani glanced down the foot of the truck bed. The drop to the ground was steep, probably too steep for her to jump down onto without her knees buckling. If she fell now, there was no guarantee he’d help her back up.

She took his hand.

The contact was brief, but it made her skin crawl all the same.

As soon as Dani’s feet settled onto the dirt, the man pulled his hand away from hers and started walking back to the cabin. When Dani didn’t follow, he turned around and said, “What, did you think I was gonna help you walk the rest of the way back? You ran out on your own two feet, surely you can walk back on them.”

Asshole, Dani thought to herself as she took a tentative step forward. Her ankles practically screamed as she moved, threatening to give out the further she walked. She took another wobbling step. And another. Every step was hell, but all Dani could do was grit her teeth and keep moving.

Moving got easier once she reached the stair railing that led up to the cabin porch, but hurt more as she pulled herself up the steps. One ankle finally gave out on her when she hit the second step, nearly sending her hurdling down the steps before she threw her body onto the railing. The man said nothing as it happened. He just watched her from the top of the steps, patient as a saint.

When she reached the door frame, she caught a quick glimpse of the girl from before before she disappeared behind the hall wall. The only thing Dani could make out from her were the slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the wall and the wave of hair that hung out from beyond it. Behind Dani came the man, who crossed the cabin within a few strides and stood at the doorway of the study they came from minutes ago, expectant. She limped her way over to him, and then past the doors. The man led her back to the ring in the floor and gestured toward it. “Sit down.” He told her, poking at her ankle with his boot.

Dani trembled as she sat on the floor next to the ring. She should be fighting back, but then what? There was nowhere to run, no escape she’d be able to find tonight. The man clamped the cuff around her ankle, produced the key from around his neck, and locked it into place. “You know, things would’ve been so much easier for you if you hadn’t decided to run.”

“Had to try,” Dani grumbled as the man let go of her ankle.

He didn’t even acknowledge her as he made his way to the door. “We’ll be seeing each other in the morning,” was all he said before shutting and locking the double doors behind him. The lights followed him, plunging Dani into darkness.

She couldn’t help herself as the tears began to pour down her dirty cheeks. She laid herself down onto the floor and curled into a ball, letting the tears run off her face and into her tangled curls. What the hell was she gonna do now? She couldn’t run with whatever the fuck was in her ankles, and she was in the middle of nowhere. Dani had gotten herself into enough situations to know which ones she could and couldn’t get out of on her own. She wasn’t getting out of this one by herself.

Dani hiccuped with sobs. She knew no one was coming. She was going to die here, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @lektricwhump, @heartinthehospital, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps,

#whump #whumplr #intimate whumper #defiant whumpee #lady whump #(let's see if this post gets shadowbanned for using that tag #religious whump #wanted to post this on Sunday but the queue function fucking sucks so surprise! y'all get it on Saturday instead #happy early easter

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love-and-monsters · 5 years

Text

Norek the Naga

Male naga X gender neutral reader, 3,322 words.

You have just gotten a new job at a bakery and become rather smitten with the naga who works the register.

You took a deep breath, stepped into the sweet-scented bakery, and were immediately greeted by the sight of the largest naga you had ever seen.

His human half was roughly normal sized, but you could see his massive mottled lower half curled behind the glass display counters. Part of him was even draped over a display case, coiling slightly over the top of it. You couldn’t even see where his tail-tip was, he was so massive and coiled in on himself.

“Hey there,” he said in a drawling southern accent. His hair was dark and looked like he’d gone long enough without a haircut that it was starting to get out of hand. There was a lazy, but pleasant expression on his face. “What can I do you for?”

“Um.” You looked down at the email on your phone. “I’m looking for, uh, Marz- Um, Marziana?”

His eyebrows lifted and he leaned away from the wooden counter. “Hey!” He called into the back of the bakery. “Your interview’s here!”

There was an indistinct yell from the back and he nodded before slumping back over the counter. “She’ll be up in a minute.” He looked you up and down. “Are you new ‘round here?”

“No,” you said. He titled his head at you, interest sparking in his yellow eyes.

“Then how come I’ve never seen you around?” he asked.

“Usually if I want something baked, I do it myself,” you said. “I don’t stop be bakeries all that often.”

There was a clicking noise and a woman stepped out from the back. She was dark-skinned and middle aged, hair tied up into a tight bun. From the waist down, she was a scorpion.

“You must be my ten o’clock,” she said. “Sit anywhere you like, and we can chat.”

You picked one of the little cozy tables toward the wall and sat with her. She flipped open a file and read through it. “Says here you’ve got a pretty good degree, but not a lot of experience.”

“No, I graduated recently. I mean, I have no official experience, but I’ve been baking for a while.” She nodded, expression inscrutable. You glanced around a little nervously. The naga was leaning over the counter, eyes on you. When you caught his gaze, he gave you a thumbs-up.

After going through a few more questions, mostly about what you enjoyed baking and what you struggled with, she flipped the file closed. “An interview is good and all, but not as useful in a practical job.” She stood and gestured for you to follow her into the back. When you passed the counter, you had to be careful not to step on the naga’s coils.

There were only a few other people working in the back, and she led you over to a clear space. She slid a recipe in front of you and gestured to a cabinet of ingredients. “Make this.”

You looked at the recipe. It was for scorpion tails, the bakery’s specialty. Essentially, they were cream puffs piped into scorpion-like shapes. You rolled your sleeves up and started to bake.

The scorpion tails you produced weren’t as good as the ones the bakery usually made. They weren’t piped properly and the flavor wasn’t quite what it should have been. Marziana tried one, expression completely unreadable.

“I have another interview tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll call you if you got the job.”

It wasn’t quite what you hoped for, but it was better than what you had feared. You stepped out of the back of the bakery and almost ran into the naga.

“Here.” He pressed a white bag into your hands. You glanced inside. It was filled with an assortment of cookies.

“This isn’t some kind of consolation prize, is it?” you asked. ,

He laughed. “No. Just a gift.”

“You’re not giving away food again, are you, Norek?” Marziana asked, emerging from the kitchen.

“Take it out of my paycheck,” he said. He winked at you, a pleasant smile on his face.

You left the bakery with one final glance over your shoulder. The cookies were very good, as it turned out. Even if you didn’t get the job, you could see yourself returning to the bakery.

Two days later, you received a phone call from Marziana. “Are you still open to the job?” she asked.

“Yes!” you said eagerly.

“Good. You’ll work from three in the morning to eleven from Wednesday to Sunday. You’ll have most holidays off, but you’ll be expected to work overtime leading up to holidays, as those are our busiest times. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes. Yes!” you said. “When do you want me to come in?”

“Come in tomorrow. I’ll email you some paperwork to sort out and we can finish it up on your first day.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.” The line clicked off and you grinned across your apartment, giddy with joy and relief.

As much as you needed your sleep, you only got into bed a few hours before you needed to rise again. You scrambled out of bed at two and hurriedly pulled yourself together before heading to work.

Marziana was already there, as were a couple other people, one a burly woman you figured was some kind of shapeshifter and a guy you were pretty sure was a vampire. You were introduced and, after filling out some paperwork, got put to work under the watchful eye of Marziana.

“You’ll be on probation for the first two months while you learn. You’ll have to run your creations by other people before they go out in the shop and I may test you on occasion. If you fail, I reserve the right to fire you,” Marziana said. “Does that seem fair?” You nodded. “Good.”

Marziana kept you busy, working flat out until six, when the shop opened. The other bakers stayed in the back while you moved products out to the front. Norek, who had arrived to help open the store, smiled at you as you stacked cupcakes on a display.

“Glad you’re the one who got the job,” he said. “I liked you best out of all the interviews.”

You blinked at him, a little flustered. He offered you a charming smile. “You okay, darlin’?”

“Yep! Great!” You scrambled back into the kitchen and tried to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning.

That set the tone for most of your interactions in the days that followed. Norek would speak to you, often saying something charming, and you would get flustered and scramble back into the kitchen. You were pretty sure he was doing it to tease you, and you couldn’t say it was a routine you minded.

“That looks good.” You jumped a little as Norek leaned over your shoulder. You were setting a few cinnamon buns that had been carefully shaped into hearts out on the main display. “You make these?”

“I helped,” you said.

“Don’t sell yourself short, sugar. You’ve been doin’ really well.” He grinned at you. “I tried those cinnamon apple cookies you made the other day. They were amazing.”

“Thanks,” you said. “They’re an old family recipe. Well, not that old. My grandma’s. But I’m glad I got to put something of my own out in the store.”

“Mm hm,” he hummed. “Say. I was wonderin’. There’s this real nice restaurant near here that opened a few months back and I’ve been lookin’ for an excuse to go. Would you be interested in coming with me?”

You stared at him like a deer in the headlights. “As… as a date?”

“Sure, sugar. If you’re all right with it.” He flashed you an utterly charming smile and your heart thundered against your ribs.

“I- um.” You took a reflexive step backwards and tripped over the coil of his tail that was on the ground behind you. You slammed against the wood floor hard, momentarily knocking the air out of you.

“Sugar!” Norek leaned over you, concern flashing over his face. “I’m sorry. Are y’ all right?” He stretched his hands out. You clasped them and he tugged you to your feet. He coiled in around himself, ducking his head. “Sorry, darlin’. Sometimes it feels like there’s a little too much of me to fit back here.”

“I should have watched where I was going,” you said hurriedly. “It was my fault. I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“Naw, I’m fine. Takes more’n a little thing like you to hurt me,” he drawled. “Though maybe my pride is a little damaged. Sorry for makin’ you uncomfortable. I know I probably shouldn’t have asked you at work, but we don’t see each other much elsewhere. Forget I asked.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you said. “I was just surprised. I didn’t expect to be asked on a date today. But it’s not a no.”

He tilted his head a little, hands folded. “Is it a yes?”

You teetered on the edge of uncertainty, then took a step. “Yes. It’s a yes.”

His smile was so wide it looked like it was straining his cheeks. “Wonderful! I’ll-”

“You’ll plan dates on your own time,” Marziana snapped from the kitchen. You froze, embarrassment flooding you, but Norek seemed unconcerned.

“Here’s my number,” he said, pressing a piece of receipt paper into your hand. “Text me later tonight, all right?” He winked and turned back to work.

It was hard to focus for the rest of the work day, but you managed to please Marziana with your work before leaving for the day. Norek waved at you as you left.

A few hours later, you texted Norek. He responded almost immediately.

Hiya, sugar. You could almost hear his soft voice dripping its gentle, syrupy accent over text. Feeling up for a date on Tuesday?

That works for me, you replied. You texted back quicker than I expected. Aren’t you at work?

Just got off, actually. And would it be embarrassing to tell you I’ve been waiting for your text since you got off?

No. It’s sweet. A warm, fluttering feeling ran from your head to your toes. Does Marziana let you have your phone on you at work?

What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I’ll pick you up at six, if that works?

Sure. You smiled down at your phone.

Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough. When the time finally arrived, you couldn’t stop pacing in front of your front door. It was an upscale restaurant, so you were wearing some of your nicer clothes. When you heard a knocking on your door, you were wound taut enough to snap.

You opened the door. Norek was coiled there, a small bundle of roses held in his hand. “Evening, sugar,” he said, extending the bundle toward you. “I figured most people like roses, so…”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the bundle. “I should probably put them in water before we go. You can come in.”

Norek slithered in as you stepped back from the door. He was wearing a simple button-down with a black jacket over it. Despite its simplicity, it hugged his form in a way that seemed designed to draw your eye to his chest. His hair had been somewhat tamed, though there was still a tousled quality to it.

“I have something for you too,” you said, picking up a box from the counter. “It’s not quite roses, but I hope you like it.”

Norek removed the lid from the box to reveal several truffles nestled in white tissue paper. “Did you make these?” he asked. The note of awe in his voice was gratifying.

“Yeah. I like baking, but I’ve been practicing chocolate making too, recently.” Norek picked one up and took a bite out of it. A soft moan slipped from his mouth and he closed his eyes, swaying slightly.

“Sugar,” he said, accent thickening a little. He opened his eyes, only enough so you could see his irises under the long shadows of his eyelashes. “These are wonderful.”

You grinned and laughed. “Thank you.”

He popped the rest of the truffle into his mouth with another over-exaggerated groan of delight. “Oh, sugar, you’re going to spoil my dinner.”

“Why don’t we leave these here, then,” you said, placing the box back on the counter, “and you can grab them when we get back.”

Norek waggled his eyebrows at you. “Inviting me into your home already? You must be confident this date’s going to go well.”

“W-well,” you stammered slightly, trying to think of something playfully flirtatious to say next. Your brain seemed to screech to a halt.

Norek nudged you gently. “Don’t be nervous. It’s only me.” He shifted his tail and grinned. “I only bite if asked.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. You grabbed your jacket and headed out of your home, Norek right behind you.

“The restaurtant’s only a few blocks that way,” he said, pointing. “And it’s such a nice night out. Do you want to just head there on tail?” He glanced at your legs. “Or, I suppose, on foot?”

“Sure.” There was a little bit of a chill, but that gave you an excuse to huddle close to Norek as you headed toward the restaurant. Your shoulders rubbed against each other.

The restaurant was beautiful. It was right at the edge of what was generally referred to as the ‘forest’ district, a section of the city typically for those who dwelled in the treetops. The outside was made of unfinished wood and it was surrounded by plants illuminated in fairy lights. It gave the whole place a nearly ethereal aura.

A harpy hostess greeted you and guided you toward a table on one of the upper levels. Norek was surprisingly skilled at getting from one level to another. There were tree-like protrusions on the walls that Norek wound himself around to climb from one level to the next.

You were seated at the table and the harpy left, promising that your server would be back in a few moments. A quick glance over the menu showed that it was split into several sections, each one with specials for a different sort of creature. The human section was limited, but you could see a couple of dishes you were interested in.

“I hope this place works for you,” Norek said. “They don’t cater to humans specifically, but it can be hard to find restaurants that are nice and work for multiple species, so…” He trailed off and you sensed some almost-frantic nervousness from him.

“No, no,” you reassured, “I like it here.” You glanced around. As far as you could see, there were no other humans, but there were several other species. The nagas you could see looked similar to Norek. “Do you live around here?” you asked.

“Oh,” he said with a slight chuckle. “No, this is a specialized district. I don’t make enough money at the bakery to live here. But it’s a goal. It’s just such a nice place to live.”

“It is really pretty,” you said. Norek nodded. “Did you live in an area like this with your parents?”

He shook his head. “No. My dad was a human.”

Your eyebrows shot up involuntarily. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Everyone’s surprised by that. They assume I must be a full naga. Probably because I’m so big.” He shifted his tail. It coiled beneath him and under the table, right next to your feet. “But I’m only half-naga. Just got good genes, I suppose.”

A waiter popped by and took your drink orders before fluttering off. Norek folded his hands under his chin. “What about you?”

“Pure human,” you said. “Pretty far back, too. I lived in a pretty human-dense area for a while, but I moved here recently.”

The waiter returned with your glasses of wine and Norek sipped from his. “That must have been quite a change,” he said. “I’ve never lived in an area without a variety.”

“I definitely looked like a tourist when I first came here. I think I made some people uncomfortable with how much I stared. But I don’t regret it. It’s a lot more interesting here than I was where I came from.”

“Your parents don’t have a problem with interspecies dating, do they,” Norek asked.

“I don’t think so. I mean, I think they’d prefer it if their grandchildren were human, but they’re not against me dating outside my species. I mean, they knew it was possibility when I moved here.”

Norek nodded, taking another draw of his wine. “I think you can guess that my parents aren’t concerned with it,” he said. “Although it’s a mite early to start talking about meeting the parents.”

“A bit,” you agreed. The waiter returned and you put in your orders. Norek leaned closer to you. His tail brushed against your leg. It was surprisingly cool and smooth.

“How’re ya liking the job so far?”” he asked.

“It’s better than I expected. Marziana is a good boss and the work’s challenging, but pretty fun.” Norek nodded.

“She’s great. Doesn’t need to pay me as much as she does, but she gives me enough to live on and then some, so I’m grateful.” He grinned. “She’s a bit of a slave driver around the holidays, though. I remember one year-”

He launched into a story that continued even after your food arrived. You were dimly aware that time was passing, but you weren’t really aware of just how long you’d been sitting there until you realized that the candles had burned down almost to nubs.

“Shit,” Norek said. “We really shouldn’t have stayed for so long. You have work tomorrow.” He waved down your waiter, coils shifting anxiously under the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You felt your face burn as you tried to think of a classy way to say “You look good when you get into talking and I didn’t want to stop looking at you”. You didn’t manage to get there before Norek grabbed the check. Luckily, you’d agreed on split the bill ahead of time, so there was no squabbling over who was going to pay.

You left the restaurant together, Norek careful not to let the door catch his tail on the way out. He looked around for a moment, hissing quietly. “Which direction is your home in again?”

“This way,” you said, leading him in the right direction.

“Sorry we couldn’t get dessert,” he said. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He grinned at you. “It was a good night, though.”

You nodded. The tip of Norek’s tail twitched in a way you were starting to recognize, which meant he was excited or enjoying himself.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again,” he said cautiously, bright yellow eyes searching your face.

You grinned. “Are you asking me on a second date?”

By this point, you were already at the front door to your home. Norek smiled, tail twitching. “Maybe,” he said. “Are you going to say yes?”

You considered him for a moment, planning your approach. He was tall enough that you had to get up on your tiptoes to kiss him. His reaction was immediate. His hands came up, securing your head against his, and he groaned against your mouth. As the kiss deepened, his tail tangled around your legs, pinning your in place.

It was a few minutes before you broke away. Norek looked a little dazed, long lashes fluttering over his eyes. “Wow,” he murmured. “You’re… you’re going to kill me.”

“In a good way, I hope,” you said. Norek grinned.

“I’m not complaining,” he said. He hesitated, then sighed. “I really have to go.” You gestured that you wanted to kiss him again and he shook his head. “I’ll never leave,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He darted in and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before slithering off into the night.

#naga #exophilia #naga boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster lover

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timelock97 · 5 years

Text

Time Never Stops

Chapter Seven: Just a Bug

Word Count: 2075

Prologue Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6

Warning: Mentions of getting sick, slight angst (not really)

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

"Alrighty," I rub my hands together as I sit down in front of my computer, "Are we recording Golf with Friends first or going over what we are doing for the PAX panel?"

"Record first," Arya states as Marz plops down beside her with two mugs in hand, "We then can practice our little spiel after the fact."

"Sounds like a plan. We ready for intros?" Kyle asks, stretching his arms over his head.

"Yeah, lets get-" my stomach lurches, causing me to pause and place a hand over my stomach.

"You okay there, TL?" Marz asks.

I shake my head before quickly standing from my seat, hand over my mouth, and sprint for the bathroom, the voices for my friends yelling from Skype behind me. I collapse to my knees and vomit into the toilet, groaning after finally emptying my stomach of what I had eaten for breakfast. I gasp for air, leaning an arm on the seat while laying my head on top to catch my breath and let the lightheadedness pass before flushing the toilet. I stand slowly and move to the sink to rinse out my mouth, then brush my teeth. I take a chance to look at my tear stained cheeks and pale face. I let out an annoyed breath before slowly making my way back down the hallway to the kitchen. I pop the fridge open to grab a bottle of ginger ale from the door shelf and grabbing a pack of saltine crackers from off the counter before walking back to the recording room.

"What the hell was that about?" Marz yells as I plop down in my chair, setting the bottle off screen while I reset my mics, chewing on the crackers.

"I haven't been feeling well the past few days, I'm fine, just a bug." I state quickly, running my hands through my hair. "Am I good to start the intro?"

"Yeah," Jac says with a raised eyebrow, Kyle cracks his knuckles next to him, "start us out, TL, before you get sick again."

I flip him off before clapping my hands together, "What's up guys, you're on with TimeLock,-"

"JacKylegameplays," the boys shout

"Welcome," Arya murmurs directly into the mic

"to Oblivion," Marz rasps

"And you're on," I state

"With GameSquad."

"Thanks so much for watching," Arya calls smiling at the camera after a two hour recording session.

"We will see you all, in the next one!" Jac and Kyle call out.

"Don't forget to check out our personal channels if you miss us." Marz states, pouting out her lower lip.

"And make sure to give that like button a little bit of love." I state, smiling at the camera.

"Until next time, this is GameSquad, signing off." We state together before stopping our recordings and giving everyone a thumbs up to show that we are all stopped.

"Okay," Arya groans while Marz moves from her seat to grab her phone from off the charger, "who is editing this bad boy?"

"It's the boys turn to edit the video. I don't know who is doing it, but the we have edited the last 3 weeks." Marz states before sitting back down in her chair.

"I have to pee, I'm not doing the editing, boys." I state, bouncing in my seat.

"Send over your recordings and I'll edit them," Kyle says, running a hand through his freshly dyed midnight blue hair while Jac pushes his chair away from the desk and rolls off screen. The girls and I upload our recordings and get them ready to send while we chit chat back and forth.

"I think this is the first time we have actually recorded since you've been back, TL." Jac yells off screen when I return from the bathroom.

"Yeah, I mean we pre-recorded videos for about a month so we wouldn't have to worry about it while I was gone then when Marz and Arya went on that trip with their family." I yawn, uncapping my pop to take a swig.

"And you haven't told us about your trip with Spiderling, TL." Kyle says, wiggling his eyebrows at me, making me laugh.

It had been five weeks since Tom and I departed from Oregon and went our separate ways since he had to get ready to go to premieres and interviews for late June.

"Sorry I couldn't travel back home with you, love." Tom murmured against my lips while we stood at his gate.

"Not like you could have changed it, babe." I whisper.

Tom cards his hand through my hair before cupping my face. "I love you, (Y/N), so much."

"I love you too, Tom, and just think. In a month and a half I'll be out in L.A. to join you for your premiere for the newest Avengers movie."

"I get to show you off as my girlfriend, and I cannot wait," he whispers, leaning his forehead against mine before pressing his lips into mine again, smiling into the kiss.

I pull away, looking into his brown eyes that in his swim with nothing but love. "You're going to miss your flight if you aren't off." I whisper, only to be cut off again by his lips.

He takes his time, before moving from my lips to my cheeks, my jaw, then my forehead before sighing. "I love you, darling. Call when you get home?" He states, backing up until all he is holding is my hands.

"Only if you call when you do." I whisper, lifting his hand to my lips, "I love you too. Now," I squeeze his hands before spinning him toward his gate, "Go before you miss your flight."

He laughs before spinning back around and kissing my lips. "See you in seven weeks."

"Seven weeks." I repeat before he finally walks to the door, but not before he gives me another wave, and walking inside.

"Everything was super fun, we visited so many places: the Japanese gardens, Mt. Tabor, art museums, the zoo, and more. And as you all know we figured out that we admitted that we loved each other," I muse.

"The ship finally sailed!" Marz yells, making us all laugh.

"Well, we are very glad that you are happy, TL, and that you had a great time." Kyle says, smiling at me.

"I do have a question, though." Arya says, looking intently at me. "How long have you been sick, (Y/N/N)?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, a few days." I state, leaning into my headrest, "Why?"

"Just curious, it seems odd that you are a bit sick five weeks after your trip with Tom." Arya states, leaning into Marz's side.

"And what exactly are you getting at?" I accuse, white, hot anger running through me.

"I think Ari is assuming that you and Tom did a little more than just kissing on your trip." Kyle wiggles his eyebrows, making Jac laugh.

"I'm not pregnant," I state, shaking my head, the group gasping as I roll my eyes. "It's just a bug, probably got it from flying home."

"I know, I mean, it is you. You don't have to get pissed about it" Marz laughs. "Damn, dormant virus," she giggles. I give here an apologetic look before shaking my head and laughing along with her.

Once the subject jumps away from my illness I pull my phone out of my desk drawer while we get ready to perform our little script for PAX. The lock screen revealing a picture of Tom after one of our days 'spent in bed.' I open my contacts and pull up my recent messages, clicking into Izzy's.

(Y/N/N)

Are you at the store?

At work?

Izzy

I am

Need something?

(Y/N/N)

I need you to pick something up for me

And you CANNOT freak out

Izzy

Okaaaaaaay

Whatcha need?

(Y/N/N)

Um...

Pregnancy test...?

Izzy

You have explaining to do

But will grab it for you.

I'll check it out so no one asks either.

(Y/N/N)

You're the best

And I'll explain when you get here

Chinese?

Izzy

Yum 😍

See you at 6

"TL?" My head shoots up from where I am looking down at my phone to the rest of GameSquad. "You alright?" Kyle asks.

"Yeah. Uh, want me to get started?" I ask, watching as everyone nods. "Alright everybody," I clap my hands together, leaning toward the screen, "storytime."

I wave goodbye to the rest of GameSquad before turning off the computer for the night. I run my hands through my hair before I stand and walk out into the hallway and into the kitchen. I glance at the clock, 5:15 PM.

"Time to call for food." I mutter as I grab my phone out of Tom's blue hoodie and dial my favorite Chinese place. Once the order is placed I spend the next twenty minutes moving around the apartment until I find myself back into the kitchen. I play with my lip as I lean against the counter, grabbing a water bottle in my hand and tossing it in the air, flipping it. I jump when there is a knock on the door and I quickly move to answer it. I yank it open and cause the man behind it to jump. "I'm sorry, a bit on edge, how much do I owe you?" I ask, pulling my wallet out of the front pocket.

"Fifteen sixty." The man states, handing me the bag for my food.

I pass him $22 and mutter a quick, "Keep the change." I shut the door and deposit the bag onto the kitchen counter, breathing in the savory smells of the contents. The sound of knocking, the tap, double tap, tap on the door signals Izzy's arrival pulls me from my thoughts.

"Hey there, (Y/N/N), I have the, uh, tests." Izzy calls from down the hall.

"I'm in the kitchen, Iz. Food just got here." I call back. Izzy walks into the kitchen with bag in hand.

"Uh, do you want to do this first or eat?" Izzy asks, setting the bag on the counter.

"Food, that way I can tell you about, uh, why I needed these." I grab the bag and motion for her to follow me into the living room.

"You and Tom what?!" Izzy yells, making me blush and let out a small laugh, "(Y/N/N)-"

"Okay, it wasn't planned, it just kinda happened. And then it happened, uh a few more times-" I shake my head, placing a hand over my forehead.

"I do not want to hear about this." Izzy laughs, then she looks at me seriously, "but you think that there's a possibility that you are pregnant?"

"I'm on birth control," I state, setting the empty to-go container on the coffee table, "but it is always possible that it didn't work." I whisper, looking at a few picture frames that sit on a bookshelf to my left. Showing pictures from my high school graduation, Izzy's first book signing, my first PAX, and the first premiere I attended with Tom.

"Well, I'm not leaving until you take the test. And, you know me," Izzy grabs my hand and smiles at me, "I am here for the long run."

"Thanks, Iz." I lean forward and pulling her into a hug. After a few minutes I pull away, letting out an annoyed groan. "Well, now I am gonna go in the bathroom and, pee on a stick." Izzy laughs as I stand from the couch and walk to the bathroom with the box in hand.

I pace the small length of the bathroom while Izzy sits on the bathtub, waiting for the timer on my phone to go off.

"Everything is going to be okay, (Y/N/N)," Izzy states, holding out her hand.

I take it and squeeze, "I just," I run a hand over my face, "I just don't know how I should feel about-" the timer on my phone going off on the counter cuts me off. I look at her in a panic, and begin to shake my head, "I can't look at it, I can't, Izzy."

"We will look at it together, and whatever happens, everything will be okay." Izzy states, holding my hand. The two of us walk over and take the test upside down in our hands. She looks at me, "Ready?"

"As I will ever be." I whisper. We take one more deep breath before flipping the test over.

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

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@revenantwriting | @bellagrayson-wayne | @jackiehollanderr

Chapter Eight

#cg writes #tom holland x reader #dad!tom holland #bestfriend!tom holland #best friends to lovers #time never stops #tomhollandxyoutuber!reader

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