#Red white and blue wreath

[likivicustomdecor]

American flag Patriotic wreath

[stealingyourbones]

A side effect of Danny’s death by the ghost portal was his wings. They were beautiful in his human form, a sparrow's wings with feathers of light blue matching with patches of white, reminiscent of a cloudy day. In his ghost form they were horrifying. The feathers forever smoking and lightly smoldering, wings blackened with soot that couldn’t be removed no matter how hard you tried. The feather’s shafts and barbs glow a toxic green that dim and brighten at random intervals. The smell of electrical fire and burning flesh permanently lingering on the charred wings. Danny covers up his wings sudden appearance as a metagene making itself present after a traumatic event. It makes sense. He got shocked by the portal so he acquired an ability similar to Ghosts. Normally metagenes adapt to strengthen oneself in a way that relates to the incident that activates them so this isn’t unusual. After all, all ghosts had wings. Wings that displayed how they died or one’s obsession.  Ember's wings were perpetually burning, her feathers wreathed in blue flames. Lunch Lady’s feathers made of meaty flesh, Skulker's armor had tactical metal wings that could shoot their feathers with deadly precision while his actual body had small bat wings that looked as if they were made of stitched together pelts. — Jason doesn’t know how he got wings after being dipped in the Lazarus Pit but apparently it happens in rare cases when the deceased was dead for a prolonged period of time before revival by the Pits. His beautiful giant hawklike wings were a brilliant intimidation tactic when spread to their full wingspan, the dark red plumage speckled with brown, looking like his wings were dipped in blood. They were as beautiful as they were useful. The wings were capable of flight and made no sound while in the air, perfect for traversing Gotham and for stealth missions. The one thing that confused both Jason and the LoA was that his wings would sometimes change.  Whenever the pits clouded his mind you could see his wings appear to bend and twist, looking like they broke in several places and didn’t heal correctly. The brown fading away and the dark red of his wings lightening to a cherry color and the lower feathers changing to an ombre of yellow and green. The beautiful plumage now tarnished with scorch marks and concrete dust, the glow of embers scattered around his feathers burning brighter and brighter a bright toxic green the more the pits overwhelmed him.

[fyeahthetudors]

Gable in Nashville Inspiration for a large shabby-chic style blue two-story wood gable roof remodel

[differentsoulsweets]

Aphrodite : Introductory post

Αφροδιτη [Venus] War Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Procreation

Epithets: ⟡ Ourania - Heavenly ⟡ Pandemos - Common to All ⟡ Areia - of ares, Warlike ⟡ Hoplismene - Armed ⟡ Symmakhia - Ally (In Love) ⟡ Kypris - Of Cyprus ⟡ Philomeides - Laughter-Loving ⟡ Aphrogenia - Foam-born ⟡ Khysee - Golden ⟡ Pothon Meter - Mother of Desire

Domains: ⟡ love ⟡ Sex & procreation ⟡ Seduction ⟡ Beauty ⟡ Pleasure ⟡ War

Devotional acts: ⟡ Give compliments! ⟡ Create a skincare and bodycare routine ⟡ Collect pretty things ⟡ listen to music that makes you feel good, dance to it if you are able ⟡ have a dedicated chapstick, gloss, lip tint or lipstick!

Associations

Symbol: ⟡ Dove ; Apple ; Myrtle-wreath ; Flower

Color: ⟡ Pink ✧ Red ✧ Blue ✧ Green ✧ White ✧ Gold

Metal: ⟡ (upg) bronze

Crystals & stones: ⟡ Garnet ✧ Ruby ✧ Rose Quartz ✧ Pearls ✧ Diamond ✧ Sapphire ✧ Aquamarine

Fruits,Vegetables,Flowers,Herbs: ✧ Rose ✧ Anemone ✧ Apple ✧ Daffofil ✧ Myrtle ✧ Myrrh ✧ Lettuce ✧ Pomegranate

Animal: ✧ Hare ✧ Turtle - dove ✧ Sparrow ✧ Goose ✧ Swan

Incense: ✧ Frankincense ⟡ Rose ⟡ Myrrh ⟡ Vanilla ⟡ Cinnamon ⟡ Cypress ⟡ Jasmine

Food & Drinks: ✧ Pink ⟡ Red ⟡ Blue ⟡ Green ⟡ White ⟡ Gold

Day, Season, Time of Day: ✧ Venus ; Friday

Tarot: ✧ The Empress ✧ The Star ✧ The Lovers

[pastryfication]

winter wonderland

pairing: kimi antonelli x leclerc!reader

note: i’m not really satisfied with this but it’s cosy and christmassy so we ball 🙂‍↕️

part one of my advent celebration

december had a way of coming creeping just at the right time. it brought a lightness to everything, spreading a nice warm feeling across everything as it rolled around with its christmas cheer and holiday cosiness.

to celebrate christmas that year, your family had rented out a cabin at your favourite ski resort, nestled in the heart of the french alps. it was a tradition you had kept up for a long time, but for the first time, the friend you brought wasn’t just a friend. he was someone much more special.

the small chalet style cabin your brother had arranged for your group was the perfect charming blend of rustic elegance and winter magic. it was made of dark wood with steep, snow-covered roofs adorned with twinkling fairy lights that cast a warm glow as the night settled in. snow piled neatly on the nearby balconies, where wreaths and red ribbons hung along the edges, adding festive touches to the scene.

you and kimi had gotten your own room—much to arthur’s dismay—and it was as magical as the rest of the house. until then, you had enjoyed your evenings together, cuddled in the warm, cozy bed, but as it was your boyfriend’s last night with you before he flew home to spend the holidays with his family, you had decided to go explore a small village located just outside the boarder of the resort.

you were walking along a small road close to the middle of the town. the square was alive with the cheerful hum of holiday spirit, and market stalls lined the cobblestone paths, selling everything from hand-knit scarves to spiced cider and roasted chestnuts. a large christmas tree stood proudly at the center, its branches decorated with delicate glass ornaments and shimmering tinsel, while the soft notes of a carol floated through the air from a street performer’s violin.

beyond the village, you could see the ski runs snake down the mountainside, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. skiers and snowboarders still dotted the slopes, gliding gracefully down the white mountainside. the peaks of the surrounding alps, capped with snow, rose majestically against the sky shifting from pale blue to the soft lavender of twilight.

it was getting late, and your mum had already sent a message to let you know that you had to be home soon, but everything about the moment was so absolutely perfect, and you didn’t want to break it just yet.

the snow crunched delicately under your boots as you took another step through the magic winter wonderland of the small village. the street performer had changed to a christmas love song, the soft tones creating the perfect backdrop to your walk.

despite the thick, fluffy gloves you both were wearing, kimi’s hand felt warm in yours. every so often, he’d squeeze it a little tighter, a silent signal that made you glance up. his eyes always met yours with that familiar, loving sparkle, sometimes followed by a quick kiss on the tip of your cold nose.

he adored the way you looked all bundled up in your thick coat, scarf and woollen hat with a frosty blush covering your cheeks. it made him all giddy on the inside and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger as a goofy smile took over his face. it made your heart skip; it was rare to see him this relaxed, away from the newfound pressure of the track and cameras.

“i wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered as you passed a stall selling handmade ornaments. kimi’s fingers squeezed yours again, and when you looked up, he had that smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

“me too,” he said, his voice low and earnest, before he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

you looked at him, puzzled. he turned to you fully and whispered your name, his breath visible in the cold air. “i love you.”

your smile widened, a new blush spreading across your cheeks—this time not from the chill. “i love you more.”

“not possible,” he immediately remarked back, not giving you a chance to protest. even if you hadn’t been able to see his face, you would still have been able to hear the smile in his voice.

you smiled right back up at him, but before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. it was short and sweet, both of you smiling into the kiss, and when you pulled apart, giggles filled the air between you.

“we should probably head back,” you said, the reluctance clear in your voice as you glanced at the sky now deepening into night.

he sighed, nodding. “yeah. wouldn’t want to give your brothers another reason to dislike me.”

you pouted, your gloved hand coming up to caress his cheek. “they don’t hate you. they just have a hard time accepting the fact that i’ve grown up.”

he leaned into your touch, nodding his head with soft eyes. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as found yourself at home in the cabin once again, with the glow from the windows of the chalets and lodges reflecting off the snow, casting a magical light over the landscape, you found yourself back at your favourite place in the world: your boyfriend’s arms.

the scent of pine trees and wood smoke came in from the slightly open window and mingled with the faint sweetness of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen, where your mum and charlotte were cooking up snacks for your movie night.

a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace, its warmth spreading throughout the room. your family were all gathered around, laughter and cheerful chatter filling the air. charles emerged from the hallway with a soft smile, leaning down to ruffle your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple before he moved on to alex, who sat on the couch with an amused grin, and they exchanged a friendly nudge and a few teasing words.

arthur was sprawled out in one of the armchairs, wrapped in a blanket with only his tousled hair visible. he shot you a playful glare when he caught sight of you and kimi on the loveseat, but it was softened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

lorenzo was resting next to him, more up right and put together, but still relaxed in a way he only was around you. next to him, two empty spots were waiting for the rest of your close knit family.

leo was shuffling around on the floor, overwhelmed by the amount of cuddly people within his vicinity. his cute little snout poked at all of you as he surveyed the room, before he finally decided to join you and kimi by jumping into your lap.

you let out a small giggle and went to pet him. as the dog settled in between you, kimi’s arm tightened around you just a bit and you looked up at him with an adoring smile.

this, right here, felt absolutely perfect. this was your epitome of happiness. this was your wonderland. the most magical place in the world.

[alistairtherins]

“FROM SPACE, THE HOUSE of the First shone like fire on water. Wreathed in the white smoke of its atmosphere, blue like the heart of a gas-ignited flame, it burned the eye. It was absolutely lousy with water, smothering it all in the bluest of blue conflagrations. Visible even up here were the floating chains of squares and rectangles and oblongs, smudging the blue with grey and green, brown and black: the tumbled-down cities and temples of a House both long dead and unkillable. A sleeping throne. […]

Gideon Nav pressed her face up to the plexiform window of the shuttle and looked as if she couldn’t ever get enough of looking, until her eyes were red and streaming and huge migraine motes danced along the edge of her vision.”

Made in Ps

[v1sexual]

always forever , vi (arcane) part two

a collection of (modern) domestic life activities with vi ! college au , modern au , self indulgent

part one , part two , part three, part four soon !

note : this one sucks lol , i literally made this at work a couple of days ago and didn’t have the willpower to write a new one. anyways, hope u guys like it !

drabble two : its mariah carey season

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who was ecstatic when you suggested to decorate the flat for christmas. she and her family are not religious at all, but christmas is something that they celebrate every year without fail.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who went all out and spent around $500-$600 on christmas decorations and around $1000 for christmas gifts. (she bought like five different types of christmas lights, a 6 foot christmas three, and a lot of stuff she definitely didn’t need)

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who’d show off by carrying all the shopping bags in one go and would not let you help. “just doing my job shortcake,” she’d say as she opened the front door for you, her pinky visibly shaking as two heavy shopping bags hang off it.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who’d stop to look and admire you as you two decorated the christmas three. she watched, as you strategically placed the blue, green, and red baubles in a pattern so that they’re even distributed. it’s been a couple of days since you two kissed, an unofficial confession to how the two of you felt for each other. after that night you’ve shared countless of kisses (and a little bit of heaving petting here and there). but you guys haven’t really addressed what you two are, if this is a start of a relationship or just something casual (her bet is on the former though).

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who excused herself and told you she needed to go to the washroom but in reality she just needed an excuse to sneak off and set-up a mistletoe under your door, her door, and the bathroom door.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who basically barricaded the hallway to that leads to her and your room. she literally hung a white sheet in front of the hallway to hide what she’s planning.

“vi you’ve been there for two hours!” you whined, hand resting on your stomach. “i literally need to shit!”

vi popped her head out from behind the white sheet, “give me two minutes baby i’m almost finished.” she said then popped her head back in.

as much as you’d love to cuss out vi right now, you just couldn’t ignore the way your belly does flip flops the second she called you ‘baby’ (also the fact that it somehow made you no longer wanna shit).

approximately two minutes later vi popped her head out again, “close your eyes for me shortcake.” you sighed but closed your eyes anyways.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who quietly turned off the light. she intertwined her fingers with yours as she held the white sheet open and leads you towards the hallway.

“okay shortcake, open your eyes.”

a gasp left your lips as you opened your eyes. the hallway was illuminated in nothing but white christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, it looked like something out of a pinterest board. personalized wreaths hung outside your rooms (yours had books, a guitar, and all your favorite little things. then vi’s had a hockey stick, a rugby ball, and a pair of boxing gloves).

“do you like it?” vi asked quietly.

you didn’t say anything, eyes still focused on the hallway.

“i-i can take it down if you-“

you cut her off by basically jumping into her arms, you wrapped around her in a tight hug burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“i love it,” you whispered against her skin. vi smiled down on you, her hands situated under your legs to support your weight.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! whose face you showered in kisses when you broke free from the hug.

a dopey smile played on vi’s lips as she leaned against your palm, eyes fluttered shut as your lips met hers. she sighed contently, her hands rest on your hips her as her thumb rub circles against your clothed skin.

vi has never felt so happy, so content. she felt as though her heart would burst from how hard it pounded against her chest.

“i love you,” she said. “i don’t know if it’s too early to tell you, but i love you. i have for a while now, and i understand if-“

you cut her off by shortly pressing your lips against hers. “i love you too, violet.”

ꕀ extra !

“oh. my. god.” powder exclaimed. she gripped her phone tightly, re-reading the text her sister sent her.

ekko raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend, placing his guitar in it’s stand before walking towards his bed and plopping down next to her. “everything alright pow?”

powder didn’t say anything, instead she shoved her phone in ekko’s face. it took him a second to read the text but judging by the photo vi sent powder, he already knew what was up.

“can’t believe it took them this long to be honest.”

“cut them some slack little man,” powder rolled her eyes playfully before shooting vi a quick text. “it’s not like you’re any better.” she teased which made ekko roll his eyes.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he replied, pressing a kiss to powder’s cheek.

[sturnioz]

fb chris and bun somehow getting wrangled into decorating a gingerbread house together only for bun to get very picky on how they decorate it and insist it needs to be the best in the frat. queue fb chris literally just rolling his eyes also, can i be ☁️ anon if it isnt taken??

part two to THIS PROMPT, but can be read as a standalone.

"a'ight, so we only managed to grab a few boxesm so we're doin' this shit in pairs, 'kay? it's me 'n bee, kitty 'n matt, bun 'n chris, jo—"

nate's voice trails off as your heart leaps at the announcement, a wide grin spreading across your face as you clutch the gingerbread pieces in your hands; already picture the creation you want to come to life.

with excited eyes, you lean over the table, scanning the slip of paper with the instructions to build. but when you glance sideways at chris, your excitement begins to waver as you notice the expression on his face — his eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw tight with a slight scowl on his lips, and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at the table.

you can't help feel a little disappointed, wishing he could be just as happy as you are to be involved in something like this. still, you try to shake off the feeling and not let it damper your mood as you refocus on the instructions, doing a quick once-over just as nate gives everyone the go-ahead to start.

the building part comes together super quick and easy — sticking the gingerbread slabs together with icing and top notch precision, creating a sturdy yet simple house. as you sift through the box, you lay out the colourful sweets and multiple tubes of icing, envisioning the perfect design that appears in your mind.

but then you panic a when you see chris reluctantly pick up a blue icing tube.

"no!" you quickly blurt out, rushing to take it from his hands, but he pulls it out of reach, his expression unimpressed and slightly annoyed. "don't do blue.. let's stick to red and green icing, keep the christmas theme."

"blue is fine, kid." he replies, his tone flat and dismissive.

"no, it's not," you shake your head, your voice firm despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. "i.. i have the perfect idea, and—and we need to be the best."

chris raises an eyebrow, his annoyance clear. "this isn't some competition. we're just buildin' a fuckin' gingerbread house that's probably gonna be thrown away the second we're done anyway."

you frown at that, shaking your head again. "i'll keep it safe. i'll take it home. no blue, please—keep it to green and red. or we can use the white icing!"

you pick up the white icing tube and hold it out to chris, hoping that he'll drop the blue and take the white instead. he stares at you for a moment, prodding his tongue against his cheek, before rolling his eyes and dropping the blue icing onto the table with a thud.

he takes the white tube from your hands, muttering, "dunno why you're makin' such a big deal out of this shit, kid."

you murmur back, "i told you.. i want to be the best."

chris shoots you a glare, but you ignore it, turning back to your gingerbread house. you carefully swirl the green icing around the makeshift door, your tongue poking out in concentration as you create a festive wreath, grabbing the red icing to then create a small little bow in the middle.

you try, and fail, to hide the smile when chris leans over you, the annoyed expression still on his face as he squeezes the white icing tube over the roof of the gingerbread house, trying to craft patterns for the tiles.

but you notice his grip is a little too tight, the tube bending under pressure, and a frown tugs at your lips.

"chris you're—"

"shut up, kid—"

"but you—"

"i'm doin' exactly what you asked, yeah? so don't—"

"no i know, but you're squeezing—"

"i swear to fuckin' god—"

chris' words are abruptly cut off when the tube explodes, a sudden burst of white icing erupting from the top and splattering across his shirt. it sprays out chaotically, some drops even landing across his face, leaving streaks of sticky white against his skin.

your mouth drops open in shock, a small gasp escaping as you instinctively take a step back, your eyes wide. chris looks utterly furious, his expression a mix of rage and disbelief, and you can't help but feel concerned... also amused.

the noise immediately draws the attention of the others, who stop that they're doing and turn to witness what just happened. the frat brothers laughs and hollers erupt around the table, and nate struggles to contain himself, his laughter booming as he leans against bee, who giggles uncontrollably, her eyes watery as she tries to hold nate upright as he flails against her.

both kitty and matt are silent, but they exchange glances, their expression amused and the smirks on their faces revealing how much they're finding the situation funny.

meanwhile, chris' shoulders heave with frustration, his jaw clenched as he stands there, frozen in place, icing dripping from his face and clothes, his glare directed straight at you.

"i tried to warn you..." you say softly, your voice barely rising above the laughter around you as you nervously fiddling with your own icing tube. "you were squeezing too hard..."

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[greenwitchcrafts]

May 2024 witch guide

Full moon: May 23rd

New moon: May 7th

Sabbats: Beltane-May1st

May Flower Moon

Known as: Bright Moon, Budding Moon, Dyad Moon, Egg Laying Moon, Frog Moon, Hare Moon, Leaf Budding Moon, Merry Moon, Moon of the Shedding Ponies, Planting Moon, Sproutkale, Thrimilcmonath & Winnemanoth

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Taurus & Gemini

Nature spirits: Elves & Faeries

Deities: Aphrodite, Artemis, Bast, Cernunnos, Diana, Frigga, Flora, Horned God, Kali, Maia, Pan, Priapus & Venus

Animals: Cat, leopard & lynx

Birds: Dove, Swallow & Swan

Trees: Hawthorne & rowan

Herbs: Cinnamon, dittany of Crete, Elder, mint, mugwort & thyme

Flowers: Foxglove, lily of the valley & rose

Scents: Rose & sandalwood

Stones: Amber, Apache tear, carnelian, emerald, garnet, malachite, rose quartz, ruby, tourmaline & tsavorite

Colors: Brown, green, orange, pink & yellow

Energy:  Abundance, creative energy, faerie & spirit contact, fertility, intuition, love, marriage, material gains, money, propagation, prosperity, real-estate dealings, relationships & tenacity

May’s Flower Moon name should be no surprise; flowers spring forth across North America in abundance this month!

• “Flower Moon” has been attributed to Algonquin peoples, as confirmed by Christina Ruddy of The Algonquin Way Cultural Centre in Pikwakanagan, Ontario.

May’s Moon was also referred to as the “Month of Flowers” by Jonathan Carver in his 1798 publication, Travels Through the Interior Parts of North America: 1766, 1767, 1768 (pp. 250-252), as a likely Dakota name. Carver stayed with the Naudowessie (Dakota) over a period of time; his expedition covered the Great Lakes region, including the Wisconsin and Minnesota areas.

Beltane

Known as: Beltaine, May day, Roodmas & Cethsamhain

Season: Spring

Symbols: Eggs, faeries, fire, flowers & maypoles

Colors: Blue, dark yellow, green, light pink, orange, red, white yellow & rainbow spectrum

Oils/Incense: Frankincense, lilac, passion flower, rose, tuberose & vanilla

Animals: Bee, cattle, goat & rabbit

Mythical: Faeries

Stones: Bloodstone, emerald, lapis lazuli, orange carnelian, rose quartz & sapphire

Food: Beltane cakes, cherries, dairy foods, farls, green herbal salads, honey, meade, nuts, oat cakes, oats, strawberries & sweets

Herbs/Plants: Almond, ash tree, birch, bramble, cinquefoil, damiana, frankincense, hawthorn, ivy, meadowsweet, mushroom, rosemary, saffron, satyrion root, St.John's wort & woodruff

Flowers: Angelica, bluebell, daisy, hibiscus, honeysuckle, lilac, marigold, primrose, rose, rose hips & yellow cowslips

Trees: Ash, cedar, elder, fir, hawthorn, juniper, linden, mesquite, oak, pine, poplar, rowan & willow

Goddesses: Aphrodite, Areil, Artemis, Cybele, Danu, Diana, Dôn, Eiru, Elen, Eostre, Fand, Flidais, Flora, Freya, Frigga, Maia, Niwalen, Rhea, Rhiannon, Var, Venus & Xochiquetzal

Gods: Baal, Bacchnalia, Balder, Belanos, Belenus, Beli, Beltene, Cernunnos, Cupid, Faunus, Freyr, Grannus, The Green Man, Lares, Lugh, Manawyddan, Odin, Pan, Puck & Taranis

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Agriculture, creativity, fertility, lust, marriage, the otherworld/Underworld, pleasure, psychic ability, purification, sensuality, sex/uality, visions, warmth & youth

Spellwork: Birth, Earth magick, healing, health & pregnancy

Activities:

• Create a daisy chain or floral decorations

• Decorate & dance around a Maypole

• Set up an outdoor altar & leave offerings to faeries

• Prepare a ritual bath with fresh flowers

• Light a bonfire or candles & dance around them

• Set aside time for self care

• Gather flowers & use them to decorate your home or altar

• Prepare a feast to celebrate with friends/family

• Make flower crowns

• Bake bannocks, oat cakes or cookies

• Hang wreaths decorated with ribbons & flowers

• Plant flowers in your garden

• Start a wish book/box/journal

• Go on a walk & gice thanks to nature⁸

• Cast fertility or a bunch spells

• Fill small baskets of flowers & small goodies, then leave them on your friends/neighbors doorstep as a gesture of goodwill & friendship

Beltane is mentioned in the earliest Irish literature and is associated with important events in Irish mythology. Also known as Cétshamhain ('first of summer'), it marked the beginning of summer & was when cattle were driven out to the summer pastures. Rituals were performed to protect cattle, people & crops, and to encourage growth. (Today, Witches who observe the Wheel of the Year celebrate Beltane as the height of Spring.)

Special bonfires were kindled, whose flames, smoke & ashes were deemed to have protective powers. The people and their cattle would walk around or between bonfires & sometimes leap over the flames or embers. All household fires would be doused & then re-lit from the Beltane bonfire.

These gatherings would be accompanied by a feast, and some of the food and drink would be offered to the aos sí. Doors, windows, byres and livestock would be decorated with yellow May flowers, perhaps because they evoked fire.

In parts of Ireland, people would make a May Bush: typically a thorn bush or branch decorated with flowers, ribbons, bright shells & rushlights. Holy wells were also visited, while Beltane dew was thought to bring beauty & maintain youthfulness.

• The aos sí (often referred to as spirits or fairies) were thought to be especially active at Beltane. Like Samhain, which lies directly opposite from Beltane on the Wheel of the Year, this was seen as a time when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. At Samhain the veil between the worlds of the living & the dead is thin enough that we can connect & convene with our beloved dead, here at Beltane it’s the veil between the human world, and the world of faeries & nature spirits that has grown thin. Offerings would be left at the ancient faerie forts, the wells and in other sacred places in an effort to appease these nature spirits to ensure a successful growing season.

Some believe this is when The Goddess is now the Mother & the God is seen as the Green Man or the wild stag. It celebrates the symbolic union, mating or marriage of the Goddess & God & heralds in the coming summer months. It represents life rather than Samhain on the opposite side of the Wheel of the Year.

Other Celebrations:

• Rosealia- May 23rd

Rosalia or Rosaria was a festival of roses celebrated on various dates, primarily in May, but scattered through mid-July. The observance is sometimes called a rosatio ("rose-adornment") or the dies rosationis, "day of rose-adornment," & could be celebrated also with violets. As a commemoration of the dead, the rosatio developed from the custom of placing flowers at burial sites. It was among the extensive private religious practices by means of which the Romans cared for their dead, reflecting the value placed on tradition (mos maiorum, "the way of the ancestors"), family lineage & memorials ranging from simple inscriptions to grand public works. Several dates on the Roman calendar were set aside as public holidays or memorial days devoted to the dead.

Roses had funerary significance in Greece, but were particularly associated with death & entombment among the Romans. In Greece, roses appear on funerary steles  & in epitaphs most often of girls. Flowers were traditional symbols of rejuvenation, rebirth &memory, with the red & purple of roses & violets felt to evoke the color of blood as a form of propitiation

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[deadsetobsessions]

Headmaster Dumbledore is sure that the ghosts of Hogwarts were hiding something. He’d be the first to admit that he’s nosy when it came to things like these, but he simply doesn’t have the time. Whatever that lingered these halls, he’s sure does not mean Hogwarts any harm. The ghosts would not protect it if it did.

Albus Dumbledore Hummer around a lemon drop as his quill scratched over endless parchment paper.

His wand glowed green for a brief second, an acknowledgement, and settled down into its current owner’s hold.

——

Danny Phantom hadn’t thought the castle he found during the summer months in this universe would be… so full of life. Not when there were ghosts, floating around like the castle were their own home.

Magic.

They were ghosts made of magic.

His core struggled, at first, to survive. Then, it took the magic and thrived.

He floated, invisible amongst the glittering candles beneath the imitated night sky, and watched students file in.

Quite different, from his own entrance.

He had floated into the tower, having felt a hint of resistance that he knew now were the castle wards. The ghosts, what he thought were ghosts before he realized ectoplasmic ghosts existed, stopped dead. Hah.

The shades dancing and whirling and conversing froze as he entered the tower. Life and death, and the beings that walked the line, stopped at the arrival of the One Who is the Line. The boy king wreathed in black and green glanced around.

“Hello. I’m Phantom.”

“The High King,” a ghost whispered. “Our king.”

“He’s an American?” Another one asked, scandalized. Danny, surrounded by those who he recognized as his, cracked the first smile he’s had in a while.

“Who cares? He’s…” The knight sunk to his knees, bowing with his ghostly sword in front of him.

The ghosts bowed. Danny floated in further. “Can you tell me where I am?”

“Of course.”

——

Now… he’s watching the children get Sorted. Weird, for a hat to decide your classmates, but whatever.

Harry Potter’s name is called, and the whispers broke out. He doesn’t know why, but Danny couldn’t ask the ghosts. They barely know the current headmaster, as the dead generally care only for their own times.

Danny decides to visit the lake octopus. Lake squid? Something like that. The mer people beneath the waters liked him, the last time he went. The Sorting is put out of Danny’s mind. He’s dead now, too. The only thing he cares about now is to explore the vast halls of Hogwarts and the occasional visit to the kitchen to steal some food for his living body.

(Thank the Ancients he found a house elf who knew what seasoning was.)

(Sometimes, Danny flew to where his home would have been and gets comfort food at the nearest town. He missed it, but he can’t go back.)

The ghosts know by now to call for Phantom should they need something (“I’m American,” he joked at the ghost. “We’re not big on kings. You can just call me Phantom.”)

——

The third year he’s there, Danny feels the effects of Clockwork’s power. When he investigates, it’s the red headed girl he once saw leaving the library, paper clutched in her hand.

She helped save one of his subjects, so he owes her. Plus, if she’s using Clockwork’s powers, this Hermione has potential.

And… she’s using it to study.

She reminds him of Jazz.

——

A wave of ice crackled and froze the fleeing rat and the feral wolf man.

“What?!” Harry screeched to a stop, eyes wide at the ghost child in front of him.

Danny turned, and landed gently on the ground. Snape snarled at him in suspicion. Danny allowed himself to become living again, black hair and blue eyes and tan skin replacing the white, green, black thing his dead form had.

“Who’re you?” The red-headed boy, Ron?, asked him through gritted teeth.

Danny smiled at them, dimples appearing. “A friend.”

Before the trio and co. could say anything, Danny whips his head around, palm coming up.

“Stop.” He orders. The creeping sense of cold and dread shuttered to a stop. “Go over there,” he said, and the dementors, hovering at the edge of his periphery obeyed. Danny turned back to the mildly terrified and flummoxed group.

“Let’s go. You’re all going to catch a cold, if you don’t move it. Especially you, scrawny and greasy.” He pointed at the godfather and Snape.

——

“Hey, Danny?”

“What, Harry?”

“Why’d you help us? I mean, you said you didn’t want to involve yourself in stuff like that.”

Danny hummed, wisped tail curling up against him as he soaked in the sun’s rays. “Because you reminded me of myself. And in the end, you died.”

“You literally brought me back,” Harry deadpanned, remembering the place between life and death, and how the angry Danny was when he stormed onto that train platform. The King had taken him by the scruff of his shirt collar like a particularly incensed mother cat, and dragged him off away from a puzzled Dumbledore.

“You were being stupid. You’re too young to die.”

“Like you?”

Danny snorted. “Nah. I didn’t have a choice.”

[whimsigothwitch]

Yule (December 21st)

Also know as Yuletide/Winter Solstice, we celebrate the longest night and shortest day of the year. After the solstice, the days are slowly getting longer again. Celebrate with family and friends, reflect on the past year and make plans for the coming year.

Correspondences for Yule: Symbols of Yule | Yulelog, tree, witch yule balls, fire, candles, holly, mistletoe, pinecones, deers, snow, garlands, wreaths, bells, lights. Colors | White, silver, gold, blue, red, green, burgundy. Spells | Planning/new beginnings, blessing, family/hearth, love, reflecting. Crystals | Clear quartz, citrine, snow quartz, snowflake obsidian, bloodstone, ruby. Herbs and flowers | Peppermint, sage, cinnamon, anise, pine, rosemary, ginger. Food | Apple pies, cakes, cookies, meats, nuts, gingerbread, chocolate, egg nog. Activities | Make wreaths, yulelog, bake for family and friends, go for a walk in nature, light candles, decorate your Yuletree, reflect on the past year, decorate your space and altar.

[differentsoulsweets]

Apollo

Απολλων [Apollo] God of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease

Epithets: ⟡ Proopsios [Foreseeing] ⟡ Phoibos [Bright] ⟡ Akestor [Healer] ⟡ Alexikakos [Averter of Evil] ⟡ Theoxenios [ God of Foreigners ] ⟡ Pythios [Slayers of Python] ⟡ Chrusaor [Of Golden Sword] ⟡ Daphnephorios [Bearer of Laurels] ⟡ Loimios [ Deliverer from Pague] ⟡ Moiragetes [Leader of Fate] ⟡ Pagasios [Pagasaean] ⟡ Hekaergos [Far-shooting]

Domains: ⟡ Prophecy & Oracles ⟡ Light ⟡ Music & Arts ⟡ Song & poetry ⟡ Archery ⟡ Healing & medicine ⟡ Plague & Disease ⟡ Protection of the young ⟡ Boys ⟡ Sudden Death ⟡ Knowledge ⟡ Herds & Flocks ⟡ Protector of Fugitives

Devotional acts: ⟡ Donate to medical charities ⟡ Draw or Paint ⟡ Read poetry or listen to music ⟡ Sing or play an instrument ⟡ Go to the library

Associations

Symbol: ⟡ The Lyre ⟡ Silver bow & Arrows ⟡ Dolphins ⟡ Swans ⟡ Crows ⟡ Ravens ⟡ Lions ⟡ Wolves ⟡ Mice ⟡ Griffins ⟡ Hawks ⟡ Snakes ⟡ Laurel wreath ⟡ Fire / flame ⟡ The sun / Light ⟡ Tripod ⟡ Apples

Element: ⟡ Light

Color: ⟡ Orange ; yellow ; Gold ⟡ Red ⟡ Pure white ⟡ Pink ⟡ Purple ⟡ Green ⟡ Blue

Crystals & stones: ⟡ Sunstone ⟡ Amber ⟡ Honey ; Yellow Calcite ⟡ Rutilated ; Clear ; Rose quartz

Fruits,Vegetables,Flowers,Herbs: ⟡ Cypress ⟡ Laurel ⟡ Larkspur ⟡ The-apple-tree ⟡ The palm tree ⟡ Hyacinth

Animal: ✧Swan ⟡ Raven ⟡ Tortoise ⟡ Serpent ⟡ Wolf ⟡ Dolphin ⟡ Mouse

Incense: ✧ Bay ⟡ Frankincense ⟡ Cypress

Food & Drinks: ⟡ Red wine ⟡ Olive oil ⟡ Water ⟡ Fruit ⟡ Honey ⟡ Almonds ⟡ Citruses ⟡ Cinnamon ⟡ Coffee ⟡ Herbal tea with Honey cakes ⟡ Bay leaves ⟡ Anise

Day, Season, Time of Day: ✧ Sunday ⟡ Middsummer ⟡ Midday ⟡ May

Tarot: ✧ The Sun ⟡ The chariot ⟡ Strength ⟡ Temperance

[headphonemouse]

we finally have them all so I tried identifying all the things that could help determine what the hell these cards are trying to represent. Under the cut is just the alt text copypasted.

Senkuu holding up test tubes, standing before a lab table. Behind him is the medusa device. In the background is the moon rising over the earth.

Ryusui sitting cross legged over a throne, featuring a ship's wheel over the backrest and two ram figureheads at the arm rests. In the background is the ocean and the horizon.

Chrome sitting cross legged in the air. He's inspecting a green stone in his hand and holding a bindle over his shoulder. Behind him is (?) one of the copper plates that he made for the hand crank generator. The background features distant rock formations on the horizon.

Ukyo standing holding his bow and nocking an arrow. Behind him is a set of scales. Behind that is a radar display. The background is the ocean floor.

Kohaku posing in a golden field. In the foreground is bunches of red and white flowers. The red flowers are larger, I'm uncertain if it's five or six petals. They look similar to lilies or amaryllis but the leaves are ovate rather than linear. The white flowers are tiny, with five petals and no discernible stem structure. Behind her is a male lion, followed by an image of her iron shield. The background is field, green hills, then sky.

Tsukasa standing, holding a shell necklace in one hand. He is framed by a wreath of leafy vines. In the foreground is clouds framing the bottom part of the picture. The background is a blue sky.

Suika standing in ankle deep water, near the shore of what looks like a river. In the foreground are leafy vines. The leaves have three distinct lobes and the leaf margins are entire rather than undulated, so they're unlikely to be watermelon leaves. They look more like passionfruit. Surrounding Suika are six floating 8-pointed stars. The one directly over her head is gold while the others range from white to pale blue. The background is land scattered with sparse vegetation, and a night sky.

Yuzuriha and Taiju standing together under their camphor tree. They are holding a large red ribbon that twists over their heads.

Hyoga standing holding his spear. He is surrounded by ice shards blowing off of the glacier around his feet.

Kirisame and Moz standing before a cliff. Kirisame is holding a small club while Moz is holding a spear. There are stylized clouds surrounding them. Behind them is an image of the Petrification Kingdom's emblem.

Kinro and Ginro standing before Ishigami Village's entrance bridge, crossing their silver and gold tipped spears. A circular image of an Ishigami village home's entrance with its dark purple curtains is behind them. Save for Chrome's tower, all the village buildings have these purple curtains for doors.

Nikki and Minami sitting together. Behind them is an image of the ISS crew's glass record cut into the shape of a crescent, behind which is Minami's camera lens. The background glows orange surrounding the record/camera image, and it's hard to tell what exactly it is. It could be the sun.

Gen sitting criss-cross on the ground. There are five 8-pointed stars floating around him. He is holding up one hand, above which floats a glowing purple crystal. It seems to be night time.

[questforgalas]

Storm Blue Eyes and A Scottish Brogue: Reasons Simon Riley Came Back to Life

For @daredaredoodles!! Happy Ghoapmas!!! Here is some very oblivious and very yearny Ghost for you!! Oh, did I mention lots of fluff? :) I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!

Thank you @forsaire for hosting!!!!

Ao3 link

Summary: It was supposed to be a holiday season like all of the others - nights filled with reports, and a base haunted by a Ghost while everyone wandered home. Three knocks on Simon's door change those plans entirely.

Words: 5K

No CWs, just tooth-rotting fluff and Gaz so done with these two

It was supposed to be quiet tonight. An intimate date between Simon, the desk in his room, and the pile of reports that magically remain the same height regardless of how many hours are put towards them (a detail Captain Price never misses). Does Simon happen to write a little slower to aid that magical spell so that he has a proper excuse when Price inevitably comes knocking on his door and asks why he hasn’t filed for leave again this December? Possibly, but that little detail belongs between Simon and the twenty minutes during which he contemplates which words to use instead of “infiltrate” and “detonation”. 

He should have known nothing ever goes according to plan. Three familiar knocks rapping against the door certainly proved that right.

Cut to Soap MacTavish standing on the other side, a smile curling his lips and azure eyes all the brighter against the navy jumper wrapping across his broad chest. Words were said, something about a night out which made sense since Soap wore dark jeans that seemed made specifically to torture Simon, and there was a glint in Soap’s eye not dissimilar to a child’s on Christmas morning. 

Ah, so, Price was picking up the tab. 

As Soap stands in the hall, punctuating his pitch to coach the lieutenant out of his room with perfectly placed smiles and a wink or two anyone else would find gratuitous but Simon found infuriatingly endearing, Simon swaps his hoodie for a black jumper, grabs his jacket, and has the door locked just as Soap says, “‘nd it’s not tha team without ma favorite lieutenant.” 

The calendars say “December”, but the unseasonably warm air makes the jacket hanging over Simon’s arm feel like overkill, making him contemplate turning around and throwing it through the door, but instead he rolls up the sleeves of his jumper. In the corner of his eye, he sees Soap watch as the fabric folds back and reveals Simon’s forearms - corded with muscle, covered in scars, one completely inked over. 

Simon wanted to tell himself that the way Soap ogled at the skin didn’t make his own feel a size too small. He wanted to tell himself the way Soap’s Adam's apple bobbed and the dusting of pink at the tip of his ears didn’t match his own. He wanted to tell himself he wouldn’t tuck this moment away safely in the gilded chest labeled “Moments He Can Pretend” that he stored in the safe recesses of his heart. 

He wanted to tell himself all of that, but unfortunately, that would make Simon a liar. 

Soap rambles on about some combination of some chemicals that Simon doesn’t understand a lick of - he’s just happy he remembers to nod at points that seem right for it - and they walk side by side through Hereford. 

“What fresh hell is this,” Simon mutters, the revelry from the pub greeting their ears when they’re still a block away. 

“Don’t fret, Lt.” Soap nudges him with his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just ol’ Gerry with tha music up because he finally accepted he cannae hear for shit.” 

It was, in fact, not Gerry with the music up. 

The Green Pony quite literally glows on the corner. Green garland lit with soft, white lights frames every window, and electric candles flicker at the streets. Two wreaths adorned with a red ribbon bow hang on the dark wood doors, and through the windows, matching garland and lights line the entirety of the bar. A large tree pulls it all together, lighting up the far corner much to the chagrin of some patrons looking for a secluded corner away from the crowd. 

They shoulder their way through the entry and are immediately sucked into the chaos that is the Green Pony operating over capacity. Behind the bar, Gerry, the owner, a man who Simon is convinced was born in this pub, slings pints and jabs faster than any of the youngsters helping alongside him, and when he catches sight of the two men, he throws a lazy salute and points in the direction of their usual table. They break through the crowd, and the sight of Captain Price and Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick greets them at their usual booth. 

“Well fuck me,” Gaz says as they approach. “Good to see ya Ghost, but you just lost me 20 quid.” 

“Pay up,” Soap holds out his hand as he scoots in besides the other sergeant. Gaz grumbles something about “unfair advantages” as he fishes out his wallet, and hidden under a black medical mask, a smile pulls at the corner of Ghost’s lips. A terrible bet by Gaz, really. Might as well be the title of Simon’s memoir: 

Storm Blue Eyes and A Scottish Brogue: Reasons Simon Riley Could Never Say No.

 Gaz of all people should know this, and Simon’s pretty sure Soap does do. 

Simon settles in next to Price who silently nods in a way of greeting, but Simon doesn’t miss the way his mouth curls up in a smile around the lip of his glass. “Never become predictable, Sergeant. Easier to kill that way,” Simon offers. Two pints sit unclaimed on the table. Simon grabs one while nudging the other towards Soap. “‘nd have some respect. I’m worth at least 40 quid.” 

“Sound advice, sir.” Gaz tips his glass to Simon then takes a strong swig. 

The rounds disappear and reappear over and over. The older patrons begin to make their way home, thinning the crowd some but not enough to avoid Simon’s shoulder - large enough to breach the end of the booth - becoming a human bumper now and again. Someone’s hijacked the jukebox, and Mariah Carey’s been serenading them about Christmas for the past twenty minutes. Price said his goodbyes a round ago, but not before assuring “Yes, sergeants, the tab will still be open,” and he threw that look to Simon that said “They’re your circus now”. 

Now, Gaz sits at the table, chocolate eyes glassy under the lights, and a finger absentmindedly circles his pint. A dopey smile sits on his lips, and every few minutes he mumbles along to Mariah before she drowns in the din of the crowd. A word hasn’t been spoken between them since Price left - an understood respect by Gaz who knows Simon’s need for silence as much as Soap’s need to fill the air - and Simon wishes he could enjoy it. He wishes he could give Gaz that much. Instead, a dainty hand attached to a brunette he faintly recognizes from base is demanding all of his attention. 

Moments ago, Soap delivered their newest round with a thunk, earning a curse or two from Gaz who saved his pint just in time, but instead of sliding into the space next to Simon - a space he occupied as soon as Price said his goodbyes - he grabbed his pint and beelined to the bar. There, a brunette waited. They were familiar, that Simon was sure of, and Soap kept flashing that smile that Simon was desperate to be turned on him. 

And then the hand. The hand gripped Soap’s bicep, gave it a squeeze, and a laugh, airy and bright followed. The hand remained. That smile flashed brighter. 

Simon hated that hand.

She was pretty enough. Glossy hair, high cheekbones, an ass Simon assumed would be appreciated by the right eyes. Eyes that weren’t azure blue and rivaled the bays of Islay. Any eyes except those. 

The hand slides from Soap’s bicep and cups his elbow. Simon’s knuckles have gone white. He really hated that hand. 

“Ghost, mate,” Simon hears from across the table. “Bruv, that glass is about to lose whatever battle ya’ve picked against it.” Simon tears his gaze away from that hand and sets it on Garrick who, bless him, doesn’t flinch. “Mind tellin’ me what that poor glass has done to you?”

“Don’t know what you’re on ‘bout,” Simon answers and sets his eyes back on that hand that’s smartly retreated back to its owner. Lucky her, she gets to keep it. 

For now. 

Soap’s pint is forgotten on the bartop, he says something to the brunette, and the cute crease that appears when the Scot is trying to puzzle out an equation is between his brows. Simon adores that crease. His hands itch to smooth it out and fight whatever has caused it. 

He misses the questioning look on Gaz’s face and when he follows Simon’s gaze. He misses when the sergeant puts two and two together, but what he doesn’t miss is the sigh that’s pulled from Gaz’s chest and the thunk of the sergeant’s forehead against the thick, wooden table. 

“Ya’ve got to be bloody kiddin’ me.” Stunned, Simon watches as Gaz thunks his head one, two, three more times, then snaps back up. His face is nothing but anguish. “Talk to him.” 

“What?” Simon smartly replies. 

“Talk. To. Him.” Gaz accompanies each word with a thump of his pint as if hammering them into the wood would hammer them into Simon’s confused brain. 

“Talk to who?”

“Bloody ‘ell!” Simon thinks Gaz is being a bit overdramatic, what with throwing his hands in the air and acting as if Simon is the densest person in this pub. Problem is, Simon has no idea what he’s supposed to be grasping. The sergeant rubs a hand down his face, and once he’s collected himself, the stare he throws at Simon pins him to the booth. “Talk to Soap. I’m beggin’ you, Ghost. Talk to him, and save us all from havin’ to keep watching you two dance around each other like a bunch of school boys who don’t know what a crush is.” 

The words make sense. Well, they make sense that they’re words, and they’re going in one ear. But not all of them are processing and some of them are going right out the other ear leaving a jumbled tangle of words like “Soap” and “you two” and “crush” that are rattling around in the empty space of Simon’s mind. Yes, it makes sense that Garrick just said something, but the implications are mad enough that he has half a mind to order him to a psych evaluation at once. 

“Might’ve finally lost it, Garrick. Imaginin’ things now.” It’s really all he can muster past his lead laden tongue. 

Crushing on Soap, well, that was as easy as breathing. But crushing is too trivial a word, wasn’t it? Crushing was what you did on the schoolyard when the brain hadn’t learned the words that threatened to burst from your heart. Crushing was soft glances across a room and sheepish smiles dripping with honeyed words. Crushing wasn’t a deep seeded trust that you’d make it home alive as long as that one person was beside you. Crushing wasn’t intimate knowledge of a body learned in the lowlight of safehouses while rough hands guided needles through skin. Crushing wasn’t hushed confessions in the dark as you accepted your mortality.

No, Simon did not have a crush on Soap MacTavish, because a crush was too simple. A tapestry of moments woven from a tarmac to now - the bar lights catching the hidden caramel strands of Soap’s mohawk - blanketed along Simon’s very being, and no longer could he ignore that his British heart had a Scottish flag planted firmly in place. 

And because life loves to remind Simon that he is not a man destined for gentle touches and even gentler words, he watches as the brunette grasps Soap around the forearm and leads him out of the pub. “Told ya,” the words taste more bitter than he intended. “Imaginin’ things.” 

Gaz tracks the pair through the crowd. “I’m the best interrogator on the team,” he says. Simon’s brow shoots up, and he’s about to question what the hell that has anything to do with this when Gaz holds up his hand and continues. “I’m the best interrogator on this team. I can read body language at a level that, often, I wish I couldn’t. The amount of people’s secrets that they don’t even know but I know is a burden I’m cursed to carry.” Pint abandoned and a finger getting closer and closer to Simon’s chest, Gaz continues. “I don’t know what the hell ‘appened in Las Almas…well I do, I read the report, but I mean between you two. I noticed it the moment we stepped into Ale’s safehouse, and it’s only gotten worse since. We, the 141, are a team. Price and I are teammates. You and I are teammates. Johnny an-”

“He doesn’t want anyone callin’ ‘im Johnny.” Amusement dances across Gaz’s eyes, and Simon knows he fell into his trap. 

“Exactly. Anyone except?” Gaz takes Simon’s glare as confirmation. “All I’m sayin’ is, Soap and you? You’re more than teammates, Ghost. You’re the best in the world - as much as I ‘ate to admit it - not because of hours of training together or years of missions. It’s like you two are one soul, it’s absolutely mad to watch. And it’s not just on missions either. Ya both have a starin’ problem, that’s for sure. Though neither of you would know because it’s always when the other isn’t lookin’.”

“We - what?” Simon can’t fit Gaz’s words into his understanding of his relationship with Soap. 

“The heart eyes? At each other?” Gaz flutters his lashes, and Christ, it actually gets a chuckle out of Ghost, as annoyed as he is. “Ya’d think for someone whose eyes are the only part of his body he shows, you’d be better at schooling them, but I swear I’ve seen those lines at the corners actually melt whenever Soap walks into the room.” 

Oh, Gaz is proper teasing now, and Simon wants to smack the smirk right off of his face. He wants to tell him he’s delusional and that he can’t accept the image Gaz is spinning because it means taking the feelings he keeps packed away in that gilded chest in the safe corner of his heart and laying them all out there. Yet, the denial never comes, and instead, he feels his traitorous mouth curl up.

Is that…relief easing his chest? 

Gaz’s face softens. “Remember the first thing ya told me when I joined the team?” 

“Our job doesn’t guarantee tomorrow,” Simon says automatically. “Take the good moments while ya can. Don’t know ‘ow many ya’ll have.” 

“Maybe time to start takin’ your own advice, huh?” 

“Who’s advice we takin’?”

Gaz and Simon jump at the new voice, both reflexes fast enough to keep the pints from spilling over. Simon peers up, and his heart stutters. There stands Soap with cheeks rosy from the cold, and Simon has well and truly lost it because he desperately wants to loop his arm around Soap’s waist and tuck him into his side to keep him warm. 

“Just Ghost’s words of wisdom,” Gaz supplies easily. 

“Ah, only an eejit wouldn’t listen to the Ghost.” Soap stares down at the table, and he clears his throat before he continues. “Actually, Lt. I - I was hopin’ I could pull ye away?” He rubs the back of his neck, and the red on his cheeks spreads to the tips of his ears. “Unless ye don’t want to! Dinnae me - mean to interrupt, probably discussin’ something - never mind I…”

“Relax, Sergeant.” At the sound of Simon’s voice, Soap’s shoulders drop and his breaths come easier. He meets Simon’s gaze, and Simon has never seen this look in those storm blue eyes. Timid. Unsure. Bashful? “Was just finishin’ up. Garrick, ya good?” 

Gaz waves him off. “Out of ‘ere. Your dark cloud is bringin’ down the festive mood.” He throws them a wink and stands from the table, smoothing out his jumper as he eyes six feet of muscles and a jawline that could break glass leaning on the bartop. Instead of walking around them, Gaz cuts right between Simon and Soap, and just before he steps away, he leans into Simon’s ear. “Talk to him.”

The hour hasn’t cooled the air so Simon and Soap opt to wander through Hereford instead of hailing a cab. Simon blames the beer and Gaz’s words buzzing in his ears, but he feels attuned to every one of Soap’s footfalls and every sway of his arms. The street is empty, plenty of room to stroll, yet the two of them walk with barely a hair between them. A tug Simon will always follow, and maybe Gaz hasn’t completely lost it, because Soap does too. 

But because Simon can never make things easy for himself, he says “Where’s the brunette?” 

Soap looks at him, face scrunched and that crease is between his brows. It would be so simple to reach out and gently smooth his thumb along it. “Wha’ brunette?” Soap asks because he can never make it easy for Simon, either. 

“The brunette at the pub. Seemed…cozy.” If a sniper took him out, Simon wouldn’t complain. 

“Cozy?” An incredulous laugh circles around the word. He’s really going to make Simon spell it out. 

“Ya. Cozy. Thought, well, -” Simon picks at the nonexistent lint on his sweater. “Thought she was makin’ good company.” 

Soap is silent, and it’s making Simon’s skin crawl. He focuses on his steps, one in front of the other. He creates a new mission right then: get back to base, say goodnight to Soap, and not emerge from his room until everyone has left for the holidays. He has rations hidden in his desk, he can make it until then. 

“Oh, Simon,” Soap says softly between them. 

They don’t speak for the rest of the walk, but there’s a spring in Soap’s step, and whatever millimeter of space that had existed between them is eaten up entirely by the Scot. When they arrive on base, Simon prepares his goodbye, ready to go down his hall while Soap goes down his, but when he turns to depart, Soap grabs his wrist and guides Simon with him. 

They arrive at Soap’s private room. The Scot jumbles his keys, nearly dropping them on the ground, and struggles to get them into the keyhole. Simon thinks to point out that the process would probably be easier if Soap just let go of his wrist, but call him weak because that touch is more intimate than any stitch Soap has put in his body. 

Finally, the lock turns, Soap pushes open the door, swiftly kicks it closed, and the two of them stand in the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table. 

He’s been in Soap’s room plenty of times before, but this, this moment is different. A delicate thing Simon could almost hold in his hand, and he hopes that door never opens again. Hopes that they can stand here away from the responsibilities and the enemy bullets and bask in the warmth of this thing between them. This thing that Simon prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that he’s no longer imagining and is ready to stop ignoring. Since the pub he’s felt exposed, as if every emotion he’s tried to hide away for the better part of a year is now written across his skin for a pair of azure eyes to read. As he spies the rapid rise and fall of Soap’s chest, he thinks he’s not the only one.

Words sit on his tongue, but just before they tumble from his lips, he pulls them back. He’s pictured this moment 1000 different times and 100 different ways. None of it practiced. He has to get this right. He takes a breath. He has to figure out a way to tell Soap that if he wants to take the plunge, Simon is on the ledge with him, but he also wants to leave the door open so that if he’s misread everything, nothing needs to change between the two of them. The jumper is beginning to cling to his back.

But it’s Soap who speaks first. “I got ye somethin.” 

“Ya got me somethin’?” Simon repeats back.

“Aye. It’s - one second.” Soap steps around him and rifles through his jacket. When he straightens, a dark rectangle is in his hands. He holds it out to Simon who has lost all function of his arms and stares at the object. 

“What is it?” 

“A present.” 

“A present?” 

“Holy ‘ell, Simon. Yes! A present! Ye know what a present is, aye?” 

Simon is only more confused by the answer. Soap shoves the rectangle into his chest, and Simon’s brain catches up fast enough to wrap his hands around the object that he now realizes is a thick, wooden box. 

“For me?” Seems his brain hasn’t moved past two word sentences though. 

Soap rolls his eyes and his hands plant his hips. “Yes, it’s for you. It’s what I was talkin’ to Heather about.” 

“Heather?” Christ, Simon needs his brain to wake up. 

“Aye, Heather. The lass at the pub. She helped me get this.” 

“So, ya weren’t -” Simon feels his ears burn. “Ya weren’t…flirting?” 

Soap’s eyes widen for half a second, and then he tries to hide a startled chuckle with a cough as he looks down. Simon’s pretty sure he hears “Fuckin bampot” mixed in there. When Soap looks back up, he seems shy, almost embarrassed, cheeks back to that pink that’s starting to drive Simon wild. “No, Lt. Heather gets handsy after some pints, but I wasn’t flirtin’ with her.” Azure blue locks him in place. “I had someone else in mind for that.” 

Bloody hell. Simon’s first instinct is to retreat. Flirting wasn’t wholly a new thing between them. They’d lost comms privileges on more than a few missions with Price - Gaz never had the power to pull the plug though he always made his grievances known - but it was all coy, innocent, dangling off the edge of friendly banter. None of it was ever so brazen, so laid out in the open. But here was Soap, taking the first step, leaving a small part of himself bare, waiting to see what Simon would do with it. 

“You didn’t have to,” Simon says, holding up the box.

“I wanted to.” It sounds so simple coming from those lips. 

Simon’s jacket joins Soap’s, and he holds the box in both hands. What he mistook for black is actually a deep, rich mahogany polished by an expert hand. The box easily lays in his palms, and he’s acutely aware of Soap watching him as he lifts the lid. Simon’s breath catches.

The inside is lined by a black silk, and nestled in the middle lies the most beautiful knife he has ever seen. He can tell that the blade is of the best steel, a straight spine across the top meets a point sharp enough to tear through his toughest gloves. He runs his thumb along the edge to the heel and revels at the ease with which it knicks his skin. 

Where the blade is all wicked grace, the handle is a work of art. Stunning black onyx catches the light as Simon delicately lifts it from the box. At first glance, it’s smooth, but when he rubs the stone with his thumb, he catches other carvings. He moves to the bedside table, and when he holds it under the lamplight, Simon nearly drops the knife. 

Sapphire blue and rich hazel streak through the black stone, tangling together perfectly. Simon turns the handle. On one side is a blue bar of soap. It matches a doodle Simon has seen on scraps of paper left in briefing rooms and napkins in the mess and on the corners of his reports when a certain sergeant comes to visit. He flips it, and on the other side is a hazel ghost. Another doodle Simon has spied on the pages of a journal kept close to that same sergeant’s heart.  

“Do ye like it?” Soap shifts on his feet. He’s rubbing the back of his neck again, and Simon fights back a laugh. 

The absurdity of it all, that Soap could be nervous right now. 

No. Not Soap. Not anymore. 

Johnny. His Johnny. He’s always been his, from the tarmac to now as Simon stares, gobsmacked, at this immortalization of them in stone. At this declaration of every intention and feeling and dream Simon’s been too afraid of. Johnny’s blue streaking through the darkness, dancing perfectly with Simon’s hazel. Ghost and Soap always side by side. He decides right then that he’s done tucking the feelings away in that gilded chest. He’s done with moments that live only in his fantasies. He’s done pretending he’s ok with it being just Ghost and Soap forever and that he hasn’t craved Simon and Johnny. 

So yes, it is absolutely absurd  that Johnny could be nervous right now.

“Heather’s da used tae be in tha service ‘nd makes these custom now. I ken you’re picky about the blades. Think I drove ‘er up the wall goin’ back ‘nd forth makin’ sure it was the best -” Johnny is rambling, and he’s looking everywhere except at Simon. If he was, he would have seen Simon reverently place the knife back in the box. He would’ve seen Simon rip the medical mask off of his face, and he would’ve seen Simon eat the space between them in two strides. If he was, he would’ve been ready when Simon cupped his face, and crashed their lips together. 

Simon has no idea what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how to do soft and gentle. He doesn’t know how to exist in a space where there’s acknowledged interest that’s so much heavier than a tumble in a bed. He doesn’t know how Johnny MacTavish, full of joy and thunder and blazing glory, found his way into Simon’s endless darkness. But Johnny kisses him back and grips his jumper, and Simon’s heart is no longer his own. 

“Hi,” Johnny says once they catch their breath, and Simon can feel the smile against his lips. 

“Johnny,” Simon mumbles, and it sounds like a prayer. He pulls Johnny closer and feels the strong muscles of his arms circle around Simon’s waist. He cradles Johnny’s face, thumb softly rubbing against the stubble on his cheek, and he leans in again. This, Simon thinks, is his own personal version of heaven. 

They’re pressed together now, chest to chest, and Simon is certain he’d be fine dying right here. 

“How long?” Johnny asks, and he leans into the palm of Simon’s hand. 

“Fishin’ for compliments, Sergeant? B’neath you.” There’s a swift slap on his shoulder. Simon nuzzles into the crook of Johnny’s neck to hide his smile.

“Awa’ an bile yer heid.” There’s no bite in the words. “How long?” 

“Las Almas,” Simon admits against his skin. “The way you looked at the rig when the missile ‘it. I couldn’t look away from you. Still haven’t been able to.” He pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together. “And when I saw Graves bullet ‘it…well, not even Price would’ve been able to keep me from huntin’ him down.” 

“Hells bells, Simon. That was over a year ago!” 

Simon ignores the outburst and kisses a rough, uneven scar barely hidden within the sergeant’s hairline. Johnny’s newest, only a couple weeks old “But then Makarov -” It takes a moment to fight past the lump in his throat. The arms around his waist tighten.

“In the hospital, I promised meself - “ Johnny turns his face into Simon’s neck, “that if I made it out, if I got one more shot, I was done runnin’ from ye.” He pulls back, freeing one hand and brings it up to cup Simon’s cheek. “While I lay in that bloody bed, all I could think was, ‘Ye didn’t get tae tell him. Ye didn’t get tae tell him, and now he’ll never know.’ So let me tell ye now.” Johnny cups beneath Simon’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I love ye, Simon Riley. In this life and the next, I will always love ye. God help any sorry soul that ever tries to take ye from me, because I will burn this world tae tha ground until I find ye. I don’t know how long this life is willin’ to give us, but I’ll take whatever it’s generous with as long as it’s with ye.” 

And well, Simon isn’t quite sure what to do with that. 

There’s a jumble of emotions rattling around in his heart threatening to spill into his gut if he thinks too hard about it. He’s aware that Johnny is staring at him, adoration and patience swimming in stormy blue, and his hand is softly carding through the curls at Simon’s nape. He remembers Johnny back on that tarmac - nearly two years ago now - brash and cocky and willing, and wonders what would have happened if he’d known how his fate was written, how his own heart was on the line. If he had known on that first mission what that annoying sergeant would come to mean to him, what would he have done? Would he have kept Johnny at arm’s length, protecting him from the jagged mess that is Simon’s darkness? Standing there, basking in the glow that is his Johnny, he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t think he could have. 

Simon threads a hand in the back of Johnny’s mohawk - it’s beginning to flirt with deregulation - and snakes the other around his waist. “Take the good moments,” he mutters in the space between them. 

“Aye,” Soap says, smile bright in the lowlight. “Take the good moments.” 

So, they spend the evening trading lazy kisses and honeyed words. At some point, boots are forgotten and jumpers join a pile in the corner. They tumble into bed, legs tangled, and even as sleep takes them, not an inch of space is allowed. Johnny’s breaths fan across Simon’s chest, deep, content. Sleep is pulling at Simon’s lashes, but he fights it a little longer. In his last moment of consciousness, he grazes a finger along Johnny’s hairline, catching on the rough scar, and he thinks the memoir needs a title change: 

Storm Blue Eyes and A Scottish Brogue: Reasons Simon Riley Came Back to Life. 

And in the morning, there’s a folder waiting on Price’s desk. He sips his coffee, picks it up, and smiles at the familiar weight. When he flips it open, there’s simply a location: Glasgow. 

“Merry Christmas, Simon,” Price says and watches a jeep pull out of the base.

Johnny is singing Mariah at the top of his lungs, and Simon doesn’t remember the last time he was this content. The mask is forgotten on the desk in his room, and a new knife is tucked by his side. They turn onto the highway, Glasgow waiting, and Soap lays his hand out between them. 

Simon can feel it, the wispy end of a filament stretching between them. The past collisions and the future moments. He can see it, that future laying on the other side. That future full of lazy kisses and even lazier mornings. Of days together, never questioning if the other walks through the door. Of Christmases in Scotland and maybe a cabin one day, too. For now, they have to make due with stitches in safehouses and easy touches in helis. Stolen kisses in private rooms and hidden words between the commands. 

For now, he reaches over and takes Johnny’s hand.

[bullet-prooflove]

Cornflower Blue: Logan Howlett x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @misscrissfemmefatale @reidsworld @all-by-myself98 @bribow010

Companion piece to:

Rumours - Sometimes rumours aren’t just rumours.

Summer - No one knows what Logan gets up to during the summer break.

Love Bites - Logan's healing factor can sometimes be a curse.

Autumn - Logan realises he's falling in love.

Moments

You’re already at the cabin when Logan arrives. The lights are on casting a dulcet glow across the porch, the sound of violin music serenading him as he strides up the five wooden steps. There’s a pretty autumnal wreath fixed to the door, one made from dried wildflowers in shades of red, orange and yellow. Your handiwork, he thinks as his fingertips trail over the chequered ribbon.

Seeing the place lit up like this, it feels like coming home.

When he steps over the threshold there’s a cold bottle of beer waiting for him on the breakfast bar, it’s uncapped, fresh from the fridge. He takes a sip of it before his gaze comes to rest upon the trail of clothes leading to the bathroom door you’ve left ajar.

Jeans, his plaid shirt, that black tank top again. He smiles to himself because you’re a fucking whirlwind, a beautiful, unapologetic force of nature.

He pushes open the door with his palm to find  you lounging in the clawfoot bathtub he managed to save from the big house once upon a time. The scent of lavender and geraniums floods his senses as he lingers in the doorway watching you. Your hair is piled up on top of your head in a messy bun, your shoulders submerged in the steaming water. Tiny blue cornflowers float across the surface, the same perfect shade as your eyes.

“I ran you a bath because I thought you’d be sore after the drive…” You say, biting your lower lip with that mischievous smile of yours.

“And you climbed in to tempt me.” He teases as he sets the beer down on the sink and starts to undress.

The thing is, he’s not sore, he’s not even a little stiff. The second he got out of the truck and straightened up, his healing factor had kicked in and taken care of all of that. You don’t know that, you were just doing a kind thing for the man you loved and even though he doesn’t reap the benefits, he appreciates it more than he can ever say.

His jeans fall to the floor, followed by his white t-shirt, his socks, his underwear until he’s standing there before you naked in all his glory.

“I missed you.” He rumbles, his voice rough as he leans over the bathtub, his mouth capturing yours.

“Good.” You whisper, your fingertips ghosting over his jaw as you look into his eyes. “Because I missed you too Logan.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (14/18)

(A/N: Sorry about the late update but I was running a fever of 103 and puking a lot so I couldn't finish writing. But I live and so does this story! We're finally at the chapter that prompted this entire fic!)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: With Sylus back home you learn exactly how much he has missed you.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Dragon rut. Breeding sex. Breeding kink. P in V. Cunnilingus. Rough sex. Overstimulation. Multiple creampies. Sex on the dais.

Length: 4k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (15) (16) (17) (18)

Read on AO3

After having a moment to embrace Sylus and take in that he was truly home you grabbed him and took him next door to the workshop. “There’s something I want to show you. Think of it as a welcome home present.”

You led him over to the sculpture you had spent days crafting. It was a tall twisting sculpture meant to look like rising flames. From the base it was a soft blue and melted into colors of red, orange, and yellow as they went up. When on the ground it came up to about your hip. In the flames were hidden figures and shapes like a dragon wing and a wreath of flowers. Tiny moments from your life melted into the flames.

“I was inspired by the sculptures we saw when you took me to see that dragon tradition. I know that you don’t have one and I know it isn’t the same culture wise but I thought you might appreciate it.”

His hand hovered over the sculpture and the fine twisting tendrils that created the dancing flames. “It’s remarkable. You really did this?”

“Mmhmm.” you smiled wide. “Does that mean you like it?”

“I love it.” Sylus gathered you in his arms and kissed you. “You don’t know what this means to me. Thank you.”

“Only question is how to get it home.” you laughed. “I probably should have made it smaller so it was easier to transport.”

“No. I love it exactly as it is and I’ll come back for it later. But first, you said we had to get married?”

“Yes, let’s go get that over with so we can go home.” You grabbed Sylus again and found your father before heading for the church.

It was meant to be a quick affair, just with family and a few close friends but by the time you had grabbed Tara and were on your way back to the church it had been filled with people. You could only guess they were excited to see a dragon get married.

Upon seeing that there was a ton of people waiting your friends grabbed you and hauled you away again to get dressed in something better. You tried to tell them it was just a formality to make your father happy and that you didn’t need the whole ado but they weren’t listening. They had dug out your mother’s old wedding dress for you to put on and spent what felt like an eternity on your hair and make up. You didn’t tell them all this effort was for naught considering that Sylus was going to undo it all the moment you got back to the mountain.

It was strange, last time you had been pampered over like this it was to send you to be killed by a dragon. Now you were marrying one. Funny how life turns out.

When they deemed you ready they let you return to the church. Sylus stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the church, shuffling his feet as he waited for you to return. You really wished there were less people here. It was awkward enough showing up in an entire wedding dress when he was still in his normal attire but to have the majority of the town seated to watch was not helping. Made you wish you had a bouquet if only for something to grip.

But you made it to the front and had the excuse of holding Sylus’s hands as the ceremony began. “Sorry about all the theatrics. This was supposed to be quick.” you whispered to him.

“It’s fine. Made for a fine excuse to see you in something so pretty.” he whispered back. “Although the virginal white is less than truthful.”

“Sylus!” you hissed at him.

The ceremony continued and you made your vows. “You may now kiss your bride.” the officiant said.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to kiss Sylus in front of so many people. Sylus had no such preoccupations and had taken the opportunity to pull you flush against him and kiss you hard. You staggered for a moment as he dipped you slightly. When he pulled back you noticed that he had blocked everyone’s view with his wings.

“Now,” he whispered, “I get to take you home?”

“Yes you do.”

Sylus scooped you up off your feet and strode out of the church before anyone could say any words of congratulations. You were back up in the biting winter air, the village shrinking beneath you as you soared through the grey sky. You looked out over the world and the blanket of snow that covered every inch of it. You knew that it would look amazing from high up.

You snuggled into Sylus’s chest, leeching whatever warmth you could get off of him. You were finally going home.

~~~

In the coming weeks more news came to the village about how the tide of the war was finally turning in the kingdom’s favor. They were expecting a defeat of the enemy soon enough. It was a relief to know that this would hopefully all be over soon. Apparently a lot of troops had fled and abandoned their posts when they had thought that the enemy had dragons to help fight for them. They only had Sylus for a couple weeks but it had done a great deal to help.

Speaking of Sylus he had been especially clingy since returning. Now, Sylus being clingy of you was nothing new. The man loved having you within arms length at any given time. But since coming back he had barely left your side at all. Wherever he was, you had to be. It did not matter what you were doing or what he was doing, you needed to be with him. You’d call it cute but knew how your precious dragon felt about being called cute.

You could practically hear his voice already in that deep baritone. “What is cute about me, little bird? The horns? The claws? Your idea of what is adorable must be horribly skewed if that word fits me.”

He had also been spoiling you rotten. Pampering you like you had never been before. He was doing everything for you and giving you gifts every single day. You figured he was just making up for all the time he was gone. You didn’t want to complain but it started annoying you when he tried to insist on carrying you everywhere. That’s where you finally had to draw a line.

You had finally gotten a moment to yourself when Sylus suddenly disappeared to some other part of the cave. You didn’t know for what reason he had decided to now leave you alone but you were taking advantage of the alone time by taking a relaxing hot bath. Being a dragon’s mate had some great perks, the hot springs were one of them. It always left your skin so warm and extra soft afterwards.

After you were done you redressed and started poking around looking for Sylus. You liked your alone time but now you were curious as to where he had gone. He wasn’t in the bedroom or the kitchen. You decided to try the hoard room next and that was where you finally found him. He was arranging the treasure around the dais in the center.

“Sylus?” your voice rung with an echo in the vast room. “What are you doing?”

He had gone ramrod straight, his tail flicking out and straightening at the sound of your voice. He snapped his gaze up at you and even from across the room you could tell there was a fire in his eyes. A literal fire. You usually only saw his already crimson eyes alight like that when he was angry or…possessive.

He vaulted over the dais, wings erupting from his back as he dove towards you like a hawk chasing its prey. His tail was actually what got you first, looping around your waist and pulling you towards him while he was still midair. He landed, trapping you against the wall. His mouth landed on your neck, biting hard into the soft flesh over your pulse.

“Ah, Sylus,” your voice came out as a gasp.

His tail curled tighter around you, plastering you to him. One hand cradled the back of your head, partly to protect it from hitting the wall and partly to pull it back so he could have better access to your neck. His wings were still out and they cocooned inward, encasing you entirely in his presence and his scent.

“So soft…” he muttered as he lathed the bite mark on your neck with his tongue.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you sighed as he moved to the other side of your neck and began to bite and suck a matching bruise onto your skin. “But can I know why we’re doing this now?”

He pulled back just enough to look in your eyes. The glaze of lust had abated just a bit as he fought for clarity. “It’s nature,” he said. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, eyes roaming over your face. “Need you. Need all of you to reek of me.”

You were starting to understand. “Mark.” his fingers brushed the bruises on your neck. “Claim. My most precious treasure.”

Oh fuck. Was he in rut?

This was something you had read about during your research. Dragon mating was already intense but nothing about it was that much different from human mating. One glaring and obvious biological difference was a dragon rut.

Dragon ruts had their own quirks that had similarities to other animal mating practices. One factor was that dragons have the impulse to exercise their rut surrounded by their treasure. It’s a way of centering their mate and making them feel safe. The other large part of a rut was the, well, sex part. They needed to make sure their mate was thoroughly marked as their own, and that meant overloading them with their scent and pheromones so no one could mistake that they were already claimed. That also usually meant impregnating them, no better way to claim your mate than that.

“Sylus…” You knew this was something you were going to have to deal with one day but you hadn’t realized it was so soon. Dragons didn’t have regular mating seasons, it was random for each. If you had been paying more attention you would have realized his was upon him. The signs were there. The clingingness, the pampering, the gifts. They were all behaviors dragons exhibited before rut to earn the approval of their mate and let them know they wanted to breed.

“Sylus, I need you to slow down a second.” you managed to get out.

Pulling away from you looked as if it physically pained him. He was breathing hard as he stared at you. “Yes?”

“Are you in rut right now?” you asked, wanting to make sure this is what was absolutely happening.

He nodded. “Meant to talk to you…” his grip on you tightened. “Hard to think straight.”

“Are you…” you swallowed back the nervousness in your voice. “Are you trying to breed me?”

Hearing the word breed he pressed himself closer to your body. You could feel his hard cock pressing against you. “Yes.” he put his mouth back on your neck. “Fucking hells…want to fuck you. Want to breed you. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I see…” a rush of warmth spread through you getting the confirmation.

“If you don’t want to you have to tell me now.” he muttered against your skin. “Because when I start I’m not going to be able to stop.” he kept grinding against you. “Need you so bad. Need to have you reeking of me.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “I want to. It’s alright.” you pulled his head back up to look you in the eyes. His gaze was intense and desperate but he was still him behind those glazed eyes. Probably not for long though. “I love you and I want to have a baby with you. Fuck me. Fill me up until you get me pregnant. Please. Please Sylus, I want you to breed me.”

That snapped the last thread of control he had. He crushed his mouth to yours and dragged you over to the dais. His claws dug into the fabric of your clothes and raked them down your back, shredding what you wore to rags. You gave a small squeak of surprise as you felt the ribbons of fabric fall off you. He picked you off your feet and sat your naked ass on the cold smooth stone.

He was wasting no time. But either out of desperation or a humane part of him that was still in control, instead of immediately sinking himself into you he took a knee, threw your legs over his shoulders and started devouring your pussy. He was at least attempting to ready your cunt before he started fucking you. It really was not needed though. The moment you had realized he was in rut you had felt yourself getting excited.

He lapped up what arousal was already staining your thighs and when you were even wetter than you were he shrugged your legs off and stood. He hovered over you, hastily undoing his pants to free his cock. He hadn’t bothered taking them off entirely and instead spread your legs wide and pushed on your chest so you were laying flat on the dais.

Sylus paused, his hand drifting lower to your stomach. “Gonna put a baby in here. Gonna see you swell with my seed. Want to see it so bad.”

He shoved himself into your heat, moaning loudly as he filled and stretched you. “Want to look in your eyes when I get you pregnant.” he began thrusting, holding your hips down as he pistoned in and out of you. “Ah fuck! Gonna fuck a baby into you. Gonna breed you over and over--ah!”

“Sylus!” your whole body was being jostled by the force of his thrusts. If it wasn’t for him holding you in place you were sure you would have slid off the other end of the dais. “Fuck Sylus! Please!”

“Say it!” he growled. “Fucking say it! Need to hear you say it again!”

“Oh gods! Please Sylus! Please! Fuck a baby into me! Breed me! Please!” you begged. Your cunt squeezed down tight around him as the filthy damning words came out of your mouth. You wanted it! You wanted it so damn bad!

He bent close to kiss you hungrily, his thrusts getting faster as he chased his own release. “Gonna do it. Gonna fill you up so much, little bird.” he muttered in a harsh whisper against your lips. “Fill my mate up so much it’ll be leaking out of you for days. Gonna fucking breed this pussy. Fuck!”

He grabbed your hand and pushed it between your bodies so you were touching your clit. “Play with yourself. I want you to come when I breed you.”

You swiped at your clit, pushing your body headfirst into your orgasm. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around his cock and it was enough to finally undo him as well. A hot warmth spread through your cunt as he came deep inside you. He didn’t stop thrusting as he was coming, his com coating his own cock as he kept pushing into you until finally his body slowed and he stopped.

Your legs were shaking but otherwise you were fine. That wasn’t as bad as you thought it would have been. It was definitely intense. When you imagined a dragon rut you were expecting more of a--

Before you could finish the thought Sylus pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, bending you over the dais. He kicked your legs out so you were spread wide and slammed back into you. Oh gods, you were still going?

His hips bounced off your ass as he railed into you from behind. “Gotta put more in you.” he stressed through clenched teeth. “Need to fill you up.”

“Sy--Sylus, I--ah!” your body was still sensitive from the last orgasm and the way he was pounding you was driving you towards another at a frightening pace.

“Wanna plug up this pussy with my cock. Keep you sat on it all day and just come in you constantly until you’re bred.” he was panting hard. His hands were around your hips to keep you in place and you didn’t know if what you felt trickling down the outside of your thighs was sweat or blood from where his claws broke past your skin. You knew what was sliding down the inside of your thighs at least.

The combination of his cum and your arousal made it so he could glide in and out easily. Your pussy had been stretched to a raw red hole leaking with cum and you knew all he could think about was adding more. Overloading you until you were pregnant. Until he had bred you.

You tried to find some purchase but your feet were slipping on the gold coins scattered around the dais. Fuck you were going to come again! A ripple shot up your spine and left your mouth as a loud cry as you came again. “Sylus!”

“Fuck yes!” he lifted your hips up a bit to meet you at a deeper angle. “Ah fuck yes! Feel so fucking good! Gonna cum in you again. Gonna breed you so good so no one can take you!”

Tears leaked from your eyes as the overstimulation started to fray at your nerves. Your body felt like it was vibrating. You were tripping between pain and pleasure as every thrust, every little touch sent a jolt of electricity across your skin.

“Sylus…” your voice was weak, only able to moan and whine. “Please. Please. Please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. You wanted something but your brain was nothing but mush. All you could focus on was the tingling along your skin, the burning friction between your legs, the wet slapping sounds of your bodies, and Sylus moaning as he fucked you.

“I’ll give you anything you want.” his voice had deepened, dropping into a growl, “Just get pregnant. Fuck! Please! Get pregnant! Get pregnant! Get pregnant! Get pregnant! Get fucking pregnant!”

He shot into you again, his body stilling as he pumped more of his seed into your already spent and coated cunt. You turned your head to look at him and saw his eyes screwed shut tight, face pinched with concentration, and his body glistening with sweat. When his eyes opened and looked at you they were still glowing red. Oh gods above was he not done?

His eyes roamed over your body lazily before locking in on where you were still joined. There was a deep rumble in his chest that sounded like a growl. He grabbed your ass and parted your cheeks to get a better look. Whatever shreds of Sylus had been there while he was fucking you before had evaporated and you saw a feral animal staring back at you. And his cock was still rock hard and hot in your pussy.

In an instant, without pulling out he pushed your body further up the dais so your feet left the ground. His arms bracketed on either side of you, claws digging into the stone as he laid planked against your back. Then he started rutting against you. No large thrusts, just rutting shallowly over and over.

His breath was hot in your ear as he panted, no longer even speaking. Your hands found the lip of the dais and held on for dear life, nails scratching at the stone. Short keening whines fell from your lips.

Too much! Too sensitive! Sylus wasn’t giving you any break between orgasms, if he even noticed them at all. He was too far gone in his own world. You tried to breath, to squirm away to give yourself a second to breathe but you were thoroughly pinned underneath him.

You whimpered and moaned, unable to stop the orgasm from drawing steadily closer again. Hot tears were streaming down your face. It felt good! It felt too good! You’d never been driven this far into pleasure before and that was saying something considering how often you and Sylus had sex.

You cried out and it must have sounded enough like you were in pain that Sylus stopped. Maybe you were in pain. You couldn’t fucking tell anymore!

“Need to stop?” he asked, his voice quiet and tense with control. He brushed the tears away from your eyes. “Hurting you?”

You shook your head. “Good…feels good…” you took a second to breathe until the worst of your trembling had abated. “I’m good now. Keep going.”

“Certain?” he asked. You could feel his cock twitching inside you. His body was shaking with the need to move. Yet he was still checking on you.

“I’m certain. Keep fucking me.” you said, taking in a shaky breath. “Breed me. Please Sylus. Breed my pussy!”

His hands stretched and covered yours where you were holding onto the edge of the dias. Then he began fucking you again, rutting even faster.

The top of the mountain must have broken off because you swore you were seeing stars. You had no idea that sex could feel this good! “Ah yes! Yes! Yes! Fucking hell yes! Sylus!” you chanted his name over and over. “Come with me! Please!” your voice slurred. “Want you to come with me Sylus!”

His hands gripped yours tighter.  Your toes curled, your eyes shut, and you screamed in pleasure as you came again. Your brain had fully left your body and you were floating in the heavens. The only thing you could hear was the deafening roar that left Sylus as he came in you a third and final time.

You were shaking violently, your body still hyper-sensitive and crashing through wave after wave of arousal. Sylus was shuddering on top of you. You could feel his forehead pressing against the back of your skull, his breath tickling your damp neck as he came back to reality with you. The warmth between your legs was red hot but you finally felt his dick going soft again.

As gently as he was capable he rolled to his side, taking you with him. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah…I think so…shit…” your body was limp and useless now.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You were crying awfully hard.”

“Felt too good.” you told him. “But I’m alright. I promise.”

“I’m going to pull out now. Deep breath.” he said, pressing a reassuring kiss to the back of your neck. He pulled you off his dick and you cried out again. A flood of warmth spilled out of your cunt, no longer plugged up by Sylus’s cock. “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re alright.” he spoke soothingly.

His hands rubbed up and down your arms. Like massaging out a sore muscle he was simultaneously activating and banishing the sensitivity lingering over your body. “Sorry for being so rough with you.” he said, kissing your temples. “It was hard to keep cognizant during it. It wasn’t until you reeked of me that I started to come back to my senses.”

“It was vigorous, I will say that much.” your body had melted against him and you turned in his arms so you could look at him. It was hard to do considering how sore your body still was and Sylus helped move you. He wrapped his arms around you, and even his tail had curled around your leg.

“I had meant to talk to you about ruts before this happened. I thought I had more time.” he said. “How did you know I was in rut?”

“Found a book in the village that detailed a lot about dragon mating practices, including ruts.” you nestled into his chest, “I would have liked a little more warning but you live and you learn.”

“You did so well. Love you so much.” he kissed you gently. “Do you think you’ll be alright for the rest of the rut?”

Your eyes went wide. “What do you mean the ‘rest of the rut?’ Did we not just finish?”

“Guess that book you found didn’t tell you everything.” he smirked. “Dragon ruts don’t end after getting off one time--”

“I think you got off like three times.”

Sylus rolled his eyes. “Dragon ruts can last over a week, sometimes even an entire month.”

Your jaw dropped. “A month? Are you saying that you are going to fuck me like that everyday for a month?”

“A month is an extreme case, most likely I’ll only be like this for a week.”

“Still! Why is it so long? I think you more than got me pregnant today!”

“And the rut doesn’t stop until I know for sure. I’ll be able to smell the change.” his hand drifted down to rest against your stomach. “Usually takes a week to be able to tell so that’s why it lasts that long.”

“I see.” you took in a deep breath. Your rested your hand over his. “This…this is really happening, isn’t it? We’re going to have a baby.”

The smile nearly split his face. “Yes. I know that you said yes when we started but is this truly what you want? To have and carry my children? There’s every chance that you didn’t get pregnant so if you want to wait we can wait. The rut will pass on its own.”

“I want this. I can’t wait to start a family with you.” you kissed him again, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

“Neither can I.” he pulled your thigh over his hip. “Good thing too cause I’m ready to take you again.”

“Oh dear gods above.”