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megaeralwrites · 2 years ago

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What Is a Shabti, Anyway? (An Egyptologist Answers Your Burning Questions)

So, I wrote a novel called The Shabti (coming summer 2024!). In case you’re wondering what a shabti is—and why you might want to read a story about one—make yourself comfortable and let me fill you in. This might take a few minutes to explain.

The basics:

A shabti is a type of ancient Egyptian funerary figurine. If you’ve spent any time looking at Egyptian artifacts, you’ve probably seen one of these little guys. They usually* look like tiny mummies, with their legs fused together and their arms crossed over their chests. Sometimes they carry tools, such as hoes, adzes, and baskets. They can be made from a variety of materials, including stone, wood, pottery, faience, or even glass. For a typical example, check out this guy--a limestone shabti dating to the 18th Dynasty (ca. 1550-1295 BCE) that now resides in the Metropolitan Museum of Art:

There are many similar types of figurines (more on that below), but the shabti was specific to funerary contexts and served a particular purpose. It was intended to act as a stand-in for its owner that would step in if the deceased was called upon to do various types of labor in the afterlife.

While a lot of shabtis were inscribed only with the name and title(s) of their owners, others bore a spell explaining their function. This spell is usually identified by modern Egyptologists as Chapter 6 of the Book of the Dead, but it actually goes back to the earlier Coffin Texts of the First Intermediate Period and Middle Kingdom.

There are several variants of the Shabti Spell, and an even greater number of translations. But the gist is always the same: if the owner should be called upon to do various types of corvée labor in the realm of the dead (including things like tilling the fields and ferrying sand around), the shabti would step in to do the dirty work.

“I will do it,” promises the shabti. “Here I am!”

Some Egyptologists contend that in order to count as a true shabti, the figure in question must 1) be from a burial context and 2) be inscribed with at least a partial form of the Shabti Spell. But, like so many concepts in Egyptian religion, the shabti defies easy categorization. Shabtis have a lot in common, for example, with the votive statuettes inscribed with the names of their owners that pilgrims sometimes left as offerings at sacred sites. They may even share an affinity with the wax figurines described in several Egyptian magical texts and literary tales that could be animated and sent to do the bidding of the magicians who created them.

As representations of the dead in the form of Osiris, they could also serve a secondary purpose as a backup home for the Ka, or life essence, of their owner.

*There's actually a fair bit of variation in the appearance of shabtis. There was a brief fad for putting them in the “dress of life” during the Ramesside period (ca. 1295-1075 BCE), which means they are dressed in the equivalent of white tie formalwear instead of being bundled up like a mummy. Some of the earlier ones just look like, well, sticks. These might have a square-ish approximation of a face and maybe a blocky unifoot, like some kind of Minecraft mummy. You can see examples of both types, along with the more common mummiform shabti, here.

A brief history of the shabti:

The shabti represents one stage in the long, complex evolution of funerary statuary in ancient Egypt. It is the result of a melding together of several earlier traditions in Egyptian funerary art and religion.

One of the earliest types of statuary from Egyptian tombs is the Ka statue, a formal representation of the deceased person that was housed in the tomb chapel. Some Ka statues depicted single individuals, while others depicted couples or family groups (consisting of spouses, parents and children, or siblings, for example). These statues served as interfaces between the dead person (or people) represented in the statue and the living people who maintained their funerary cult. They were also meant to serve as a sort of backup body, a place where the person’s life-force (Ka) could go to rest and receive offerings.*

The ancient Egyptians liked to feed and entertain their dead. They envisioned an afterlife that was not too different from life-life, where dead people required sustenance and enjoyed the same kinds of luxuries and diversions that they did when they were alive. It also wasn’t without its dangers and inconveniences—hence the need for various forms of magical protection and assistance for the tomb owner.

In the later Old Kingdom, the serdab (“statue chamber”) that housed the Ka statue was also home to an assortment of other figures, commonly called “serving statuettes.” These statues are less formal and more naturalistic than the Ka statues. They show people engaged in various kinds of work, entertainment, and, sometimes, play. Serving statuettes can represent men and women, adults and children, and they depict a range of activities from slaughtering animals, grinding grain, or brewing beer to playing music, wrestling, and dancing.

These statuettes seem to have been intended as a sort of support staff for the dead. In the event that the supply of offerings from the living dried up, the serving statues were there to act as backup—much like the Ka statue itself served as a replacement home for the soul if anything should happen to the body. These representations of people preparing food and engaging in various other acts of service had the magical potentiality of becoming “real” in the realm of the dead.

Interestingly, not all of these statues represented nameless, generic servants. Some of them were inscribed with the names of the tomb owner’s children or other relatives. Perhaps this was both a way of honoring a deceased family member and a ticket to ride along with the tomb owner’s funerary cult. (Want to read about a couple examples of these named serving statues? Check out the writeups on pages 108-109 of this special exhibit catalog, written by yours truly.)

The serving statuettes were phased out after the end of the Old Kingdom in favor of elaborate wooden tomb models depicting whole tableaux of people at work. These models portray everything from crews manning ships to weavers toiling in textile workshops. Sometimes the tomb owner is depicted as well, carrying out the kinds of duties they would have done in life (such as overseeing cattle counts).

In the Middle Kingdom we also see the development of “estate figures,” an evolution of a type of two-dimensional imagery common in Old Kingdom tomb chapels. These are personified representations of the estates that supported the tomb owner’s funerary cult, and they were intended to keep providing for the soul of the deceased for eternity. They take the form of offering bearers carrying food, drink, and luxury goods for the dead.

But around the same time as these tomb models, another type of funerary statuette appeared on the scene. The earliest proto-shabtis were simple wax or clay figurines which eventually developed into miniature mummies, sometimes complete with wrappings and/or tiny coffins. While the earliest examples usually weren’t inscribed with much more than a name and titles, some of them carried an abbreviated version of the longer Shabti Spell.

By the New Kingdom, the more elaborate tomb models and serving statuettes had fallen out of favor altogether, to be replaced by the more streamlined and standardized shabti figurines.

While larger, more formal statues of the tomb owner were still a standard feature of most tomb chapels, the shabtis also served to combine the functions of the earlier Ka statues and the serving statuettes. The shabti both represented the deceased and served as a replacement or stand-in that was bound to do its owner's bidding; the master and servant combined into a single figure.

Up until the end of the New Kingdom, most burials contained only a handful of shabtis. These earlier examples tended to be individualized and highly variable in their appearance. As time went on, the number increased, and some people were buried with hundreds of mass-produced shabtis—a whole army of tiny henchpeople.

During the later New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period, overseer shabtis were produced to manage the more generic worker shabtis. These super-shabtis were depicted carrying symbols of authority, such as whips and staves. A wealthy Third Intermediate Period burial might have 365 standard shabtis--one for each day of the year--with 36 overseer shabtis to manage them all. The overseer type eventually fell out of fashion with the return to more classical forms in the Late Period, but the tradition of mass-producing shabtis by the hundreds continued.

Around the same time, the spelling of the word “shabti” changed to reflect their evolving nature. More on that in a minute.

*Another weird possible spinoff of the Ka statue and/or precursor to the shabti is the so-called “reserve head,” a type of object that was in vogue very briefly, during the 4th Dynasty. What were these for? Well, like so many things in Egyptology, all we have are educated guesses. But the most popular theory is that they were literally spare heads. You know, in case something happened to the dead person’s real one.

What does the word “shabti” mean?

Hahaha! Wouldn’t we all like to know.

Okay, so in the early Third Intermediate Period, the spelling of the word changed from SAbty (shabti) to wSbty (ushebti). The explanation of the latter spelling is clear. It’s a backformation based on a folk etymology from the word “wesheb,” which means “to answer.” The ushebti is an “answerer,” an entity that responds when called upon to do work. This change may reflect a loss of the shabti’s earlier status as a representation of the deceased as well as a stand-in. The sole purpose of the ushebti was to do labor on behalf of its owner. These figures were simple worker-drones for the dead.

But what about the earlier form of the word? Well, speculations run the gamut from shabti being a form of the word SAb (meaning “food” or “meal”) to a Semitic loanword meaning “stick” or even a form of SAwAb (meaning “persea tree”). There might also be a connection with a word attested in Late Egyptian, Sby (meaning “to replace”). Any one of these meanings could make sense if you squint enough, but we may never know with certainty which one is correct.

What’s the deal with the shabti in your book?

Well, obviously I’m hoping you’ll read it and find out. For now, suffice it to say that it’s a particularly troublesome shabti. So troublesome, in fact, that the mild-mannered professor who curates the museum in which it now resides is starting to suspect that its original owner isn’t quite finished with it yet . . .

#egyptology #the shabti #ghost stories #archaeology #ancient egypt #ancient history #shabti

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hadeschan · 16 days ago

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item # K22F20

RARE Pra Somdej Luang Phu Nak Wat Rakhang, Pim Yai, Nua Pong, Taek-lai-nga. A large-size Buddha amulet with figure of a meditating Buddha, seating on a 3 tiers platform. On the surface of the amulet is with cracks as an old ivory which borrowed the technique of crackle patterns of glazed ceramic (Taek-lai-nga in Thai). Made from mainly holy powder blended with Pong Viset Ha Pragaan (5 kinds of holy powder) of Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh, and powder and fragments crushed from broken Pra Somdej Wat Rakhang amulets made by Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh blended with holy water and tabby made from seashells. Made by Luang Phu Nak, the 9th ex-abbot of Wat Rakhang Kositaram, Bangkok in BE 2495 (CE 1952).

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BEST FOR: This amulet has a tendency to draw positive energy, and power of turning bad things in life to the better, and misfortune to the good luck. It brings wealth, abundance, and prosperity but also embraces the environment with happy vibes by eliminating worries. Má-laeng wan mai dai gin lêuuat in Thai means flies never land on your blood which refers to one who wears amulet made by Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh his/her drops of blood will never be falling to the ground.“You will NEVER die screaming” Thai people believe that “One will never die screaming and one will die without any suffering at end of life if one is wearing an amulet made by Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh.” This amulet brings endless food with wealth & prosperity. Anything you wish for, and it could change your life for the better, Klawklad Plodpai (it brings safety, and pushes you away from all danger), Kongkraphan (it makes you invulnerable to all weapon attack), Maha-ut (it stops gun from shooting at you), Nang Nieow, a rock-hard skin that is completely impervious to damage with bludgeoning or piercing weapons. Metta Maha Niyom (it helps bring loving, caring, and kindness, and compassion from people all around you to you), Maha Larp (it brings Lucky Wealth / wealth fetching), and Kaa Kaai Dee (it helps tempt your customers to buy whatever you are selling, and it helps attract new customers and then keep them coming back. Ponggan Poot-pee pee-saat Kunsai Mondam Sa-niat jan-rai Sat Meepit (it helps ward off evil spirit, demon, bad ghost, bad omen, bad spell, curse, accursedness, black magic, misfortune, doom, and poisonous animals). And this amulet helps protect you from manipulators, backstabbers, and toxic people.

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Pong Viset Ha Pragaan (5 kinds of Holy Powder)

A Pra Somdej amulet MUST contain Pong Viset Ha Pragaan (5 kinds of Holy Powder), and the Pong Viset Ha Pragaan is the COMPONENTS of the following 18 sacred materials:-

1)Din Sor Pong, marly limestone powder.

2)Poon Pleuak hoi, tabby is a type of concrete made by burning oyster shells to create lime, then mixing it with water, sand, ash and broken oyster shells.

3)Din Jet Phong, earth taken from 7 forests where deposit of salts and other minerals are. A mineral lick (also known as a salt lick) is a place where animals can go to lick essential mineral nutrients from a deposit of salts and other minerals. Din Jet Phong is believed to have the force of temptation and distraction.

4)Din Jet Ta, earth taken from 7 bus/boat/railways destination terminals. Thais believe that these areas filled with lovers’ mind power while waiting for one their love one to come homes.

5)Din Lak Muang Jet Lak, earth taken from 7 Holy City Pillars at Holy Pillar Shrines in Thailand that guarded by angels and devas. City Pillars are believed to accumulate the power/energy of protection, prosperity and abundance.

6)Kee Thoop Sai Tain Bucha Pra, joss stick ashes, and candle wicks after offering to Holy Buddha Statues.

7)Dok Galong, powder crushed from sundried snowy orchid tree flowers. The snowy orchid tree flower is believed to have the force of passion.

8)Yod Sawas, powder crushed from sundried young leaves of Guilandina bonduc, commonly known as grey nicker, nicker bean, fever nut or knicker nut. Yod Sawas is believed to have the force of passion and temptation.

9)Yod Ruck Son, powder crushed from sundried double crown flowers. Yod Ruck Son is believed to have the force of love and care.

10)Kee Klai Say-ma, powder crushed from stains, sundried mosses and lichens taken from important temple boundary marking stones. Kee Klai Say-ma is believed to accumulate energy of guarding angles.

11)Kee Klai Pratuu Wang, powder crushed from stains, sundried mosses and lichens taken from gates of the ancient Royal Palaces. Kee Klai Pratuu Wang is believed to accumulate energy of guarding angles.

12)Kee Klai Sao Ta-lung Chang-peuuak, powder crushed from stains, sundried mosses and lichens taken from Royal white elephant hitching Posts. Kee Klai Sao Ta-lung Chang-peuuak is believed to accumulate energy of Devas.

13)Ton Rat-cha-preuk, saw dust of Golden Shower Tree is believed to have force of auspicious omens.

14)Ton Chaiya Preuk, saw dust of Cassia javanica Tree, also known as Java cassia, pink shower, apple blossom tree and rainbow shower tree, is believed to have force of auspicious omens.

15)Phu Ruam Jai, powder crushed from sundried Betel Vine leaves, those leaves were taken from engagement tray presented during a wedding ceremony to the bride’s parents. Phu Ruam Jai is believed to have power of family unity, support, relationship and happiness.

16)Phu Song Hang, powder crushed from sundried Wild Betel leaves that have double tips. Phu Song Hang is believed to have power of Metta Maha Niyom (gaining loving, caring, kindness and compassion from people all around).

17)Bor Nam Jet Ros, water taken from 7 wells, and water in each well has a taste and not all 7 wells taste the same. Taste is subjective and influenced by the water source, and minerals in them. Bor Nam Jet Ros is believed to have power of Pra Mae Kongka, the mythical Goddess of Water and Rivers.

18)Din Sor Viset or Sila Thikhun, powder of calcite stone, calcite is believed having the ability to amplify and cleanse energy, as well as clear and balance the chakras. It can also absorb and transform negative energy. Calcite is a crystal that calms the mind and enhances mental clarity, and it also connects the emotions with the intellect.

THE FIRST PROCESS (Sang Pong / the preparation of holy materials)

After 18 materials are crushed in fine powder, and then added holy powder, water from 7 wells, and plaster cement as binder. The resultant putty was then rolled into cylinders or slender sticks and dried. During the mixing process of these holy materials, the rituals were performed, the offerings were presented to Buddha, Holy Guru Monks, Devas, Masters (teachers), and holy spirits. The ceremonies were held in the temple buildings in front of the Principle Buddha Statue, and monks were saying sermons to invite Buddha, Holy Guru Monks, Devas, Masters (teachers), and holy spirits to bless on the holy powders. And the ritual of spirit possession is performed, a monk who roll the putty into cylinders or slender sticks his body will be controlled by holy spirits, ghosts of departed master or guru monk or devas.

THE SECOND PROCESS (Kiang Pong Lop Pong / drawing formulas of holy cabalistic writings, and then erase them).

After the sticks of powder are dried, then process of making Pong Viset Ha Pragaan begins. The monk will draw formulas of holy cabalistic writings on a chalkboard made of a sheet of mudstone. The formulas are written accordingly to the ancient scriptures, and while drawing them, the monk must say sermons and prayers to invite the power of Buddha, Devas, and holy ghosts of departed master or guru monk to accumulate their power in the molecule of the powder. At the end of each writing, monk will then erase the formulas of cabalistic writings, and keep the chalk dust in a container for further making Buddha amulets.

The Pong Viset Ha Pragaan must be made orderly, beginning with 1)Pong Pattamang, 2)Pong Itthijay, 3)Pong Maharaj, 4)Pong Buddhakhun, and 5)Pong Tri Nisinghe.

The first holy powder or the precursor to make Pong Viset Ha Pragaan is Pong Pattamang Holy Powder by drawing the formulas of Pattamang cabalistic writings with sermons and prayers. After the completion of Pong Pattamang Holy Powder, it will be divided into 2 parts, one as “Pong Pattamang”, and another one is for making of the next Pong Itthijay Holy Powder. Then returning to the first process of making the chalk sticks and then follow the second process to drawn Itthijay cabalistic writings with sermons and prayers, and keep repeating the processes for the next 3 holy powders.

THE POWER OF PONG VISET HA PRAGAAN (5 kinds of Holy Powders)

1)Pong Pattamang Holy Powder is believed to have magic power of Kongkraphan Chatrie (it makes you invulnerable to all weapon attack), Maha-ut (it stops gun from shooting at you), Kambang Longhon Hai-tua (it makes you invisible in the eyes of the enemies), and Ponggan Poot-pee pee-saat Kunsai Mondam Sat Meepit (it helps ward off evil spirit, demon, bad ghost, bad omen, bad spell, curse and black magic, and poisonous animals).

2)Pong Itthijay Holy Powder, it was made from Pong Pattamang believed to have magic power of Metta Maha Niyom (it helps bring loving, caring, and kindness, and compassion from people all around you to you), and curing and preventing all diseases.

3)Pong Maharaj Holy Powder, it was made from Pong Itthijay believed to have magic power of Klawklad Plodpai (it brings safety, and pushes you away from all danger), Metta Maha Niyom (it helps bring loving, caring, and kindness, and compassion from people all around you to you), and Ponggan Kunsai Mondam (it keeps you away from bad spell, curse and black magic).

4)Pong Buddhakhun Holy Powder, it was made from Pong Maharaj believed to have magic power of Metta Maha Niyom (it helps bring loving, caring, and kindness, and compassion from people all around you to you), Kambang Longhon Hai-tua (it makes you invisible in the eyes of the enemies), and Sador (it helps unlock all bad spells, and lift the curses).

5)Pong Tri Nisinghe Holy Powder, it was made from Pong Buddhakhun believed to have magic power of Metta Maha Niyom (it helps bring loving, caring, and kindness, and compassion from people all around you to you), Ponggan Poot-pee pee-saat Kunsai Mondam Sat Meepit (it helps ward off evil spirit, demon, bad ghost, bad omen, bad spell, curse and black magic, and poisonous animals). Klawklad Plodpai (it brings safety, and pushes you away from all danger), and curing and preventing all diseases.

WRITTEN BY HADES CHAN / w w w . f a c e b o o k . c o m / h a d e s c h a n H K

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SOMDEJ PRA BUDDHACHAN TOH / SOMDEJ TOH

Somdej Toh (1788-1872; B.E. 2331-2415), known formally as Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh (Toh Phrommarangsi), was one of the most famous Buddhist monks during Thailand’s Rattanakosin Period and continues to be the most widely known monk in Thailand. He is widely revered in Thailand as a monk who is said that he possessed magical powers and his amulets are widely sought after. His images and statues are some of the most widespread religious icons in Bangkok.

BIOGRAPHY

Somdej Toh was born in Phra Nakhon Si Ayutthaya Province, it was believed that he was an illegitimate son of King Rama II. He studied the Buddhist scriptures of the Pāli Canon with several Buddhist masters. After becoming a well-known monk, he became the preceptor for Prince Mongkut, later King Rama IV, when Mongkut became a monk. During Rama IV’s reign Somdej Toh was given the ceremonial name Somdej Pra Buddhachan (Toh Phrommarangsi), the Buddhachan means teacher of Buddhism, given by the King and used to be one of his trusted advisers, having left a lot of teaching stories around him and the King.

He was noted for the skill of his preaching and his use of Thai poetry to reflect the beauty of Buddhism, and for making amulets called Pra Somdej. The amulets were blessed by himself and other respected monks in Thailand. He also appears in many versions of the story of the ghost Mae Nak Phra Khanong, and he is said to be the one to finally subdue her. Somdej Toh also wrote the Pra Khata Chinnabanchon, a protective magical sermon which is widely chant and use among Thais.

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LUANG PHU NAK OF WAT RAKANG

Luang Phu Nak / Pra Thep Sitti Nayok, living between BE 2427 to BE 2514 (CE 1884 to CE 1971), born Nak Malengsit on Aug 1, BE 2427. Luang Phu Nak was originally from Nakhon Rachasima Province. At the early age, Luang Phu Nak studied at Wat Beuang, Nakhon Rachasima Province and Prakru Sang Vichan was the first teacher of Luang Phu Nak. And Luang Phu Nak become a novice at Wat Beung the age of 13. Later Luang Phu Nak traveled to Bangkok and stayed at Wat Rakang, and Luang Phu Nak was a disciple of Somdej Pra Buddha Kosachan (M.R.W. Charoen Israngura), one of disciples of Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh. And Luang Phu Nak was ordained as a Buddhist monk (Pra Bhikkhu) at the age of 20 by Somdej Pra Buddha Kosachan in BE 2447 at the temple of Wat Rakang. Luang Phu Nak learned Vipassana Meditation at Wat Ratchasittharam Ratchaworawihan (Wat Plub), and Wat Arun Ratchawararam Ratchaworamahawihan in Bangkok. Luang Phu Nak was promoted to the Chief Abbot of Wat Rakang in BE 2467, and in BE 2484 Luang Phu Nak started making Batch of Pra Somdej (Buddha amulets) accordingly to the process of making of Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh. Pra Somdej amulets made by Luang Phu Nak were available free of charge to all people. Luang Phu Nak passed away in BE 2514, and Luang phu Nak of Wat Rakang is recognized as having an exceptional degree of holiness, likeness, or closeness to Buddha, in Thai called “Pra Ariyasong”, the Buddhist saint.

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DIMENSION: 4.00 cm high / 2.70 cm wide / 0.70 cm thick

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item # K22F20

Price: price upon request, pls PM and/or email us [email protected]

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minisugakoobies · 2 years ago

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Divine Intervention | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Goddess!Reader

Genre: smut, hurt/comfort if you squint, Goddess!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: kissing, lots of taking holy names in vain, heavy petting, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, grinding, riding, unprotected sex (gods don't really do contraception), literal sex on the beach, there's a lot of mutual adoration going on here, needy Jungkook, praise kink Jungkook, reader is the Goddess Astraea, reference to animal sacrifice (an offering made before fic starts)

Word Count: 6.5K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: “Tell me, Jungkook. Will you worship me tonight with all of you?”

Jungkook summons his beloved goddess, and she seeks to reward his devotion.

A/N: So I hadn't intended on writing a birthday fic for Jungkook while I work on the latest Paradise chapter, but then this idea hit me on Thursday and the next thing I knew I had 2,000 words for the start of a new story. 😵‍💫 Perhaps I had some divine inspiration of my own? Anyway, I grew up obsessed with Greek mythology, so this was probably inevitable. Some of the names invoked might be a little unfamiliar, so I've explained them below. Thanks to @reliablemitten for the title!

Glossary of Names: Astraea is the star-maiden goddess of innocence, purity, and precision. Selene is the goddess of the moon. The Moirai are the Fates. Polyhymnia is the Muse of sacred poetry, sacred hymn, dance and eloquence. Mnemosyne is the goddess of memory. Eos is the goddess of the dawn. Morpheus is the god of dreams. Chronos is the Titan personification of Time.

Unbeta'd as usual. As always, I'd love to hear what you think! My inbox is open 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

It has been a very long time since you last walked upon the earth. The sand beneath your feet is softer than you remember. Tiny grains stick to your soles as you wander along the surf. The ocean stirs in the rising light of the moon, waves dancing as Selene begins her evening journey across the sky.

After all this time, there is a believer. You heard their prayer from your perch in the heavens. So many years have passed since someone invoked your name. Not merely years. Ages. Centuries have come and gone without so much as a whisper.

A pyre burns several yards down the shore. The scent of burning flesh mixes with the salty sea air, tantalizing and crisp. A water deer. This follower has brought you an offering.

You must know more. The wind stirs and a little bird crouches where you once stood. It hops forward, towards the tall figure bent over the flickering flames.

Jungkook sighs, warming his fingers over the fire. He mutters the words again, a low chant under his breath. “Beloved Astraea, Goddess of innocence and purity. Oh, sweet star-maiden, hear my prayer!” He tosses another branch on the pile, watching as the orange flames envelop it, lost in his recitation. “I pray to you now for justice. End our suffering and bring the golden age we were promised! Please, I beg of you, hear my prayer!”

A slight rustling draws his attention. He glances down. A bird sits at his feet, a little thing with a white body and a black crown and back. A night heron. It glances up at him with a red eye, head cocked as if in curiosity.

Jungkook smiles a toothy grin, nose scrunching in delight. “Have you come to answer my prayer, little bird?”

“Quok,” says the heron, head tilting the other way.

Reaching into his knapsack, Jungkook pulls out the remnants of the meal that he’d eaten during his hike across the countryside. He scatters some nuts and seeds on the sand. The heron doesn’t peck at the grains but continues to watch him for another minute or two.

“It’s all right, you can have the rest. I don’t need it.” He isn’t sure why he’s talking to the bird. But he has the strange sense that it can understand him, as the heron begins to snap up the seeds with its long beak a moment later.

As his new friend enjoys the rest of his meal, Jungkook tends to the fire. A dark curl springs free from his ponytail and he tucks it behind his ear, smearing soot across his cheek. The white tunic and pants he wears are similarly stained from his dirty hands.

He is so tired. Building a pyre was exhausting work. As was hunting the water deer earlier today. But the ache he feels goes deeper than muscle and bone. Sighing, he rubs a shaking hand over his brow, careful not to get ash in his eyes.

“Quok?”

He laughs as the heron hops closer. Those red eyes would be alarming if the animal weren’t so cute. “I’m okay, little bird. Just tired.”

“Quok.”

Jungkook settles himself on his knees, bowing his head. The carcass is ablaze now, the stench filling his nostrils unpleasantly. Jungkook does not eat meat, but his Goddess does. He inhales through his mouth before repeating his prayer again.

Once Jungkook has finished his invocation, he gazes at the night sky, searching for any signs. The dark inky blue of space stares back at him impassively. But the stars dotting the expansiveness wink merrily, as if to encourage him on.

The heron is still next to him, plumage ruffling as it hunkers on the sand. Jungkook smiles sadly at it. “Doesn’t look like it’s working, does it? I should probably just give up. But I can’t. This world is sick, little bird. It needs to be saved. And I don’t think anyone else is going to try. How can I give up?”

The thick smoke wafting from the pyre begins to swirl into the sky as a sudden breeze kicks up. Jungkook yelps as a blinding light fills his vision, searing white. Jumping away from the fire, he throws his arm over his face, confused and frightened.

“Do not be afraid, precious one,” a mellifluous voice murmurs soothingly. As the glow begins to dim, he opens his eyes to find a woman standing next to him, wrapped in a golden tunic that seems to shimmer in the moonlight. Curvy and comely, her lustrous beauty renders him speechless. But beyond her physical appearance, a powerful aura radiates from her that is unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

“Who - who are you?” he eventually stammers, dark brown eyes wide with surprise. Where did you come from? He hasn’t seen another soul in hours, intentionally chose a remote beach far from the nearest town for his sacrifice.

“You know who I am,” you reply with a husky laugh. His heart flutters in his chest at the happy sound, like a bird yearning to follow the sweet song of its mate. “Were you not just chanting my name?”

“Astraea!” He falls to the ground, head touching the sand as he prostrates himself before you. “Beloved Goddess! It is you?!”

“It is. And I thank you for your offering.” You wave your hand to gesture at the pyre. The smoldering beast is gone. Jungkook blinks in shock. “It has been a very long time since I have feasted on such delicious meat.”

He lowers his head, hiding a shy grin. He has pleased you. His heart swells with pride. “I am glad that you enjoyed it.”

You smile beatifically, and Jungkook swears the stars shine a little brighter. “Rise, precious one, and tell me why you have summoned me here.”

He does so hesitantly, not quite believing this is real. It is only the sting of the cold night air and the grit of the sand poking into his toes that lets him know that this is not a dream.

“Beloved Astraea, I have called you to… to beg you to save this world. Humans have brought nothing but ruin and destruction with their greed.” He pauses to take another slow, fortifying breath, hoping to steady the quivering of his voice. “I have been studying the old gods for years now, trying to find someone to help us. I read that you had promised to return to the earth one day to usher in a golden age of peace. That is why I have summoned you here tonight. Please, dear Goddess, have mercy on us.”

“You wish for me to save this world? That is a lot to ask of your Goddess.” Your voice is firm - not unkind, but with a force behind it that makes Jungkook itch to kneel again. To supplicate himself completely. But he stands as you have asked, head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground in front of you.

So he does not see the sparkle in your own eyes as you ask, “Do you think that a single water deer is a sufficient sacrifice for such a request? Why should I grant you this?”

His eyes widen, but he doesn’t lift his head. “I am sorry, my Goddess. I know that you love the animal, but there are so few these days… it was all I could manage to hunt.” Fingers twisting in the hem of his tunic, he wishes that he had done more. Wishes that he was more. “I have spent years studying you. Traveled the world over to learn everything I could. Gave up my home, all my possessions, my - my relationships.” He finally tips his head up to glance at your face. It’s too much, your resplendence wraps his tongue in knots, and he quickly averts his gaze so he can speak. “I have sacrificed everything for you. Please. Am I… enough?”

The swell of the ocean behind him fills his ears as he waits for your response, heart nearly beating out of his chest. Hoping that you will deem him worthy, but assuming you won’t. Then he gasps as you gently grasp his chin, turning his head until your eyes lock onto his. Your irises are a dazzling golden shade, quite unearthly, gleaming with a playful curiosity.

All the blood in his head rushes away from his face and directly to his groin.

“You have given up everything? Devoted yourself entirely to me, and no one else?”

The longer you hold his jaw, the more he hardens. He wants you to stop. He wants you to never stop. He wants you to hold him elsewhere. He needs to rid himself of these debasing thoughts and focus on your glory. But his flesh is weak, and his erection grows stronger.

“Yes,” he whispers finally. “Only you. I am yours.”

Searching his gaze for lies, you find only the truth. He hides nothing. If you asked him to jump on the pyre right now, to give the last bit of life he has left to you, Hercules himself could not stop him.

How can you not reward such devotion?

“Very well.” Releasing his chin, you step back, raising your arms to the heavens.

As Jungkook drops to his knees in awe, you rise into the air, enveloped in a brilliant white light. Again, he has to guard his eyes so they do not burn out of his skull. His heart beats faster than ever before. It worked? He’s really saved everyone??

“I call upon every star in the night sky - brothers and sisters, lend me your strength, your power!” you thunder, and Jungkook quakes where he lays. “I will strike this world down in a cleansing fire and start anew! Let it BURN!” Your sonorous voice whips around the two of you and the pyre is extinguished by its might alone.

“What?!” Jungkook shouts into the roar. He still cannot see you, unable to open his eyes for more than a second lest he be struck blind. “No! Please, Goddess, no!”

Instantly, the din dies away. The light fades enough that he peeks at you with narrowed eyes.

“No? You do not wish for me to cleanse this world?”

Jungkook thinks his heart might explode. This isn’t what he’d wanted at all. Has he made a mistake? “I thought… the ancient myths said that you would return one day and bring a Golden Age to the earth. And the world would know peace.”

“Yes, precious one.” Returning to your mortal form, you approach the protective little ball that Jungkook has curled into. “And this is what that means. A Golden Age, without mortals. A planet in balance with itself again. A new beginning.” You tilt your head sympathetically. “One born of humanity’s end.”

“I.. I do not want that.” His voice is quiet, as if he is afraid that he might stir your anger. “I only wanted to help them, not hurt them. There must be some way to help. But not like this.” He gazes at you, dark eyes full of sorrow, and your ancient heart stirs with a pang of sudden tenderness, for this tortured soul. “Please, Goddess.”

More of Jungkook’s hair has shaken loose from his hair tie thanks to the fury earlier, and strands float around his face, catching in the cool night air as you sigh softly. “Rise again, precious one. Do not fear. I will not burn the world tonight. Or any other night.”

“You won’t?”

You shake your head. “No. I could not, even if I wanted to.”

The bewilderment on his face makes you giggle, a delicate chiming like the ringing of bells. It’s a delightful sound. Even in his confusion, it sends Jungkook's heart racing.

“I am bound by the work of the Moirai just as you are. The fate of this world was decided long ago. As was mine. And it is not for me to destroy this world.” You pause, letting the words sink in. “Nor is it for me to save it.”

“Then if you could not…” he trails off, trying to understand.

“I was merely enjoying myself. I am sorry, precious one. I do not mean to cause you pain or distress. I simply could not help myself. It has been a long time since I’ve had the chance to demonstrate my might.” You grin, and he is startled at how human the action is.

“Then, there won’t be a Golden Age for us after all.” He’s still measuring your words in his mind. Comprehending their weight.

“No. I am afraid that it is not written in the stars.”

Jungkook blinks slowly. “Is that - is that a joke?”

The joy he felt at the dainty peals of your giggles pales in comparison to the pure euphoria he experiences as you burst into full-bodied laughter. It’s like every cell in his body reverberates with the wondrous sound. Soon he too joins in.

There is something about this disciple of yours that pleases you far beyond any before. Such a lovely soul he has, to say nothing of that enchanting smile. Perhaps it's just the effect of having someone believe in you for the first time since you fled this world ages ago, to hide away amongst the stars. Whatever it is, you feel invigorated. Alive again after so long.

But as his laughter fades, Jungkook's wide eyes fill with sadness, and you furrow your brow. “I am sorry, precious one. I know that this is not what you had hoped to hear. It is very kind of you to wish for such a thing, but I cannot grant it. But you have summoned me, and I am here now. Is there anything else that I could give you instead? Another way to reward your faithfulness?”

He is lost for words. You wish to reward him?

When he does not answer, you take another step towards him, until you are close enough that he can feel your breath on his face. His catches.

“Perhaps I can comfort you, at least?”

As you move to embrace him, he suddenly draws away, turning his back to you.

“Precious one?”

Staring out over the ocean, he hunches over himself slightly, trying to cover his bulge. He’s still so hard. Even in his complete fear earlier, it never went away. Why can’t he control himself? “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because you are. Your mortal life is short, and therefore precious. Would you prefer that I call you by your name, Jungkook?”

He glances back at you in surprise. “When did you - I never said - “

Only Selene shines brighter than your smile. “Of course I know your name. But why do you turn away?”

“I - I can’t… I do not want to sully you, my Goddess.”

“Sully?” Frowning, you reach out, touching his shoulder. Your fingers are so warm, the heat bleeding through the loose folds of his shirt. He moans at the sensation, and shrinks further into himself, ashamed.

Oh. Of course. Another silly myth. These mortals have always told such ridiculous tales.

“Do not hide yourself from me. There is nothing shameful about your body. When you worship me, you should do so with all of you.” Your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder tugs at him, urging him to turn. He obeys, but shame clings to him, etched into the sharp angles of his face. “Not just with this,” your fingers brush his forehead, “or this,” now they press over his heart, “but with everything.” Warmth lingers where your fingers have been, as if a fire is being lit inside him, ember by ember.

But you haven’t pulled away. As your hand trails down his chest and over his stomach, he sucks in a quick breath. Surely, you’re not going to -

Gently, you palm his erection. Stroke its length lovingly, fingertips curling around, making Jungkook’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Goddess!”

“Yes, precious one, I am here.”

You’re teasing him. He can hear it in your tone. And feel it in the way you drag your fingers excruciatingly slowly along his cock. Again, he struggles to accept that any of this is happening.

“But you - you are…” The words stick in his throat, choking him as your hand continues to fondle. You flash him an encouraging smile and he tries again. “The myths describe you as the virgin maiden of innocence and p-purity. I don’t wish to…” His sentence dissolves into a wordless cry as you lightly squeeze him through his pants.

“To what? To defile me?” His wanton groan makes you laugh.

You aren’t impervious to his good looks. Truly, he is one of the most beautiful mortals you’ve ever seen, with a face that would send Aphrodite into one of her legendary furies. And his body - so broad and strong, toned muscles flexing as he strains to hold himself still and not rut into your hand like he so desperately wants.

No, you’re not immune at all, and the more he resists, the more you want to make him fall apart.

“Once again, I fear that you have given too much credence to the stories you have read, precious one. Yes, I protect the innocent and the pure, but the virgin epithet was never my doing.” You finally release your grip on him, and he relaxes, but only very slightly. “The withered old men who spun those tales made assumptions. As if purity is only possible for those who remain unbedded.” Scoffing, you give him a wry smile. “As if any of them were ever pure themselves, even before they participated in such delights. How did they become the authority?"

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he absorbs everything you’ve said, unsure of how to respond. There is only one thing that he wants right now if you wish to reward him yet. But even after your reassuring explanation, he still cannot bring himself to utter the words.

You don’t wait for him to say anything, gliding forward to cup his face in your hands. Your thumbs brush over his high cheekbones and he sighs as a wave of contentment washes over him, seeping deep into his bones. The sparks in your eyes glow as you speak.

“This world may be wicked, but I can see that your heart is pure. As long as there are such as you in the world, there is hope yet. So do not worry yourself for tonight. I cannot save this world, but perhaps you will. One day.”

His buoyant heart feels as though it might take flight. He takes great comfort in what you tell him. And yet…

As he stands there, basking in your affection, it’s not quite enough. He yearns for more. Not just more of your praise, but more of your touch. But who is he to ask? Instead, he gazes at you with such open longing that you giggle in amusement.

“Tell me, Jungkook. Will you worship me tonight with all of you?” Cheeks still in your hands, he bites his lip, then nods. “Then I will do the same. If that is what you want.”

Yes. Goddess yes, this is exactly what he wants. He nods again.

The corner of your mouth lifts. “I need to hear you say it, precious one. Tell me what you want.”

Somehow, despite the wild hammering of his heart, his voice does not tremble. “I want you, Goddess.”

The wind stirs, kicking up sand, and he shields his eyes with a shaking hand. When he looks again, the smoking ruins of his pyre are gone. In its place is a gentle fire, lighting a stretch of sand where a velvet cloth has been spread, the same shade of gold as your tunic, which has also vanished.

Jungkook knows that he shouldn’t stare, but he doesn’t have the power to look away, drinking in your naked form like a man taking his first sip of water after wandering the desert for years.

Looking alone doesn’t quench his thirst. He aches to touch.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just waits for your command.

“Undress yourself for me.”

His fingers grip at the hem of his shirt, yanking the worn material over his head. You admire the way his biceps ripple in the flickering light of the fire as he tosses his clothing onto the edge of the blanket. And his Adonis belt, carved almost as finely as the statues of the gods that they sculpted in ancient days. He lets his hair down, shaking it loose from the hair tie. You can feel arousal starting to flow out of you as you wait, impatience suddenly rising. What is this feeling?

Ah. Need. You need him.

So, you hold out your hands, beckoning. “Come, Jungkook. Come adore your Goddess.”

He moves with the speed of Hermes, swiftly taking you in his arms. There is something reverent in the way he kisses you, imparting his devotion by holding back a little, chastely pressing his lips to yours. But soon he feels your tongue flicking against him, and before long he's thrusting his own into your mouth, eyes widening when you start to suck, caught off guard by the filthy action. For a heavenly creature, you kiss so wickedly.

His chest tickles from your merry laughter as you pull him down to the silky fabric on the ground, covering your body with his. You try to recall the last time you had a mortal pressed between your legs like this and cannot. Even so, you’re sure none have ever felt this good before. His skin is cool where yours is hot, rough where yours is smooth, sharp where yours is soft. The contrasting sensations spur you to hold him tighter, seeking more of him. A thought occurs to you, and you giggle into his kiss, prompting him to break away.

“What is it?” he pants, face flushed as he peers at you with inquisitive eyes. Are you laughing at his eagerness?

“Nothing,” you reassure him, tucking a strand of long hair behind his ear. “I was just thinking that you’re absolutely divine.” You fondly tap a finger on the tip of his nose, and he ducks his head, flush deepening to a bold crimson.

“Goddess,” he murmurs bashfully, mouth brushing against your neck.

“Jungkook,” you reply playfully, fingers carding through his hair, nails raking over his scalp. He shivers uncontrollably and whispers your name into your burning skin. Offering a hushed prayer. Wrapping his dark roots around your fingers, you tug a little, and the whisper becomes a dulcet note. “Sing for me, my precious one. Let Polyhymnia lend you her voice so you can sing my name!”

“Astraea,” he whimpers melodiously, rolling his hips into yours. “Beloved Astraea!” The pressure of his hard cock rubbing against your cunt leaves you keening, and emboldened by the sweet sound, he decides that you should be the one to sing. So he eases himself down your body, painting your neck and throat in hungry kisses, until he reaches your breasts.

Despite the chill in the air, a faint sheen of sweat covers your skin. Jungkook tongues at the drops, noting the salty tang. It tastes so human, he could almost believe that you’re another mortal lying here underneath him. If his eyes were closed, at least. Looking at you, there’s no way he could believe that you were anything less than the magnificent celestial being you are.

You sigh happily as his tongue swirls around one of your nipples, drenching the bud with saliva before he takes it into his mouth. “Yes, Jungkook,” you gasp, encouraging him to repeat the action with the other breast. He alternates between them for a few delicious moments, bathing you with his hot breath and luscious tongue, hands groping and kneading, enjoying your sighs until your hips start to buck under his chest, begging for his attention.

“Please, precious one,” you whisper, and his gaze finds yours. “Your Goddess needs you.”

The naked lust in your expression flames the fire inside him into a wild conflagration. He knows now that there’s no reason to hold back. You asked him to give all of himself, and he will.

“Yes, Goddess,” he nods, mouth falling open as his tongue traces down your navel. The wet muscle dips into your belly button, making your stomach twinge, and you gasp as you feel his fingers sliding through the wetness between your legs. His breath hitches at the arousal that coats his hand. “Is this where you need me?”

With a breathless nod from you, he shifts, settling himself further down on the cloth, legs hanging over the edge as he nudges yours apart. He props himself on his elbows and peers at you for a moment, savoring the view. It’s surreal, so unbelievable, that he could be here right now, gazing down at a literal Goddess, spread before him like a sumptuous feast.

He resolves not to waste a single moment and leans forward to press his zealous tongue to your soaking slit.

He starts with small motions. Kisses your lips before opening you up, revealing your pretty pussy to his waiting mouth. The wind carries your angelic cries directly to his ear as he licks away, dragging the flat of his tongue through and around your entrance. He trails higher, seeking the tiny pearl throbbing above it, mouth latching on as you groan.

When he feels you growing restless with the way he circles around but doesn’t quite reach where you need him most, deep inside, he gives in, and one of his long fingers parts your nether lips.

“Ah, Jungkook!”

He watches you with hooded eyes as you react to his ministrations. He was right. Of the two of you, you are the singer, turning the two syllables of his name into a glorious song, a repeating melody that you trill over and over. Not that he is quiet as he plunges another finger inside you, mouth finding your clit again. He whines into you, grinding his dick against the blanket beneath him, nearly delirious with desire. Every little noise, every little movement you make drives him closer to frenzy, and he has to pull away for a second to breathe deeply, calm himself enough to stay in the moment.

"Jungkook, m-my precious one, you devour your Goddess like a beast. Are you sure, ahh! Are you sure you are mortal?" you stutter, lifting your head to catch his eye, only to drop back with a gasp when he gives a particularly sharp suck to your clit.

“I live to serve you,” he husks, smirking, a brief flash of bravado before he buries his face again.

Though it’s been literal ages since you were last brought to the precipice like this, you recognize that you’re teetering on the edge of your orgasm. Your disciple’s talented tongue and hands have found the perfect rhythm, and the tension inside you builds. You clutch at your breasts, running one hand over your dewy skin while the other grabs at Jungkook, fingers wrapping around his bicep, squeezing hard. He merely grunts, chin nearly dripping with your slickness, too focused to mind.

Gods, but you've forgotten what wonders mortals are capable of! No wonder Zeus was constantly slipping away to cavort with the earthbound. Jungkook's mouth is relentless, licking and nipping at your tender flesh while his fingers curl and stroke that marvelous soft spot inside you, the one that turns you from an awe-inspiring deity into a mewling, soaking mess.

Jungkook can sense that you’re close when your hand tightens on his arm, vocalizations becoming faster and higher. The realization that you're about to climax because of him makes his cock twitch. Pausing just long enough to throw your legs over his shoulders, bringing your cunt closer to his gluttonous mouth, he returns to his work, eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he praises you with that blessed tongue of his.

His head swims, heavy, like he’s drunk on ambrosia. He’s never tasted the sweet nectar of the Gods himself, but he knows as he suckles at your clit that he doesn’t need to. The burst of honey that alights on his tongue as you cum for him is far more delicious than anything else could be. He groans nearly as loudly as you wail, lapping up every drop while you shudder beneath him.

Soon your cries die away, and you hold your arms open to him. "Jungkook. Come here."

You kiss him lazily, reveling in the sensation of his soft lips, his skillful tongue. He is heavy on top of you, chest pressing you into the ground, pelvis flush against yours. He grinds into you, and you slide a hand down his side and inward, reaching for his swollen cock, knowing he must need some relief.

He is so thick and hard in your hand, skin as silky as the velvet that you lie on. You skim your thumb along the vein that runs down the underside of his shaft, smiling as he groans helplessly. When your fingers wrap around his darkened tip and begin to slide, he drops his head to watch.

“Goddess,” he hisses, “please.”

“What is it, precious one?” Your strokes grow longer, reaching to the base of his cock and back.

“I - I won’t last if you keep doing that.” He might explode at any second. Yet he can’t stop his hips as they start to tip forward, trying to thrust into your hand.

“And that would be bad?”

He grits his teeth as you twist your hand, thumb tracing over the slit in his head. You can feel his thighs tense as he tries to stave off his end. He succeeds, but just barely.

You admire his restraint. And want to make him break it.

“Please, Goddess,” he begs brokenly, propping himself up to meet your eyes. “I don’t want to finish this way.”

“No? Tell me then, what you want.”

“Inside you, please.” He finally takes your hand off his throbbing dick and pins it to the ground, lacing his fingers through yours. He crushes his mouth to your shoulder, brushing hot kisses all over as he mumbles into your neck. “Please, let me fuck you, need to worship you with my cock, please!”

Instantly, you roll, pushing him onto his back. Caught by surprise, he yields easily, willingly, staring up at you in total adoration. The moonlight bathes you in an ethereal glow as you gaze down at him, eyes glimmering roguishly, lips quirking in a soft smile.

No matter how long he lives, he knows he’ll never see anything as beautiful as his beloved Goddess.

Your hand finds his hardness again, grips him gently. “Are you ready, precious one?”

He nods.

Taking a deep breath, you rub his thick head along your folds, gathering the slickness there, before you line him up and start to sink down.

The guttural groan that escapes you as you take him in shocks you. Your godhood seems to have fled your body, leaving behind nothing but a creature of pure primal desire. You moan once you’re fully seated on Jungkook’s cock, indulging in the incredible fullness that you feel. He twitches inside you, reminding you that you are not the only one in need here.

Finally, you prepare to reward him. Leaning forward, you place your hands on Jungkook’s chest, ghosting your lips over his as you whisper, “Come, precious Jungkook. Give me everything.”

His hands suddenly grab your hips tightly. Before you can start to move, he snaps his pelvis up into you. You shout his name, startled, but very pleased, breasts bouncing wildly as he begins to piston away.

The sight beneath you is transcendent. Jungkook growls, an expression of fierce concentration on his handsome face as he plants his feet on the blanket and thrusts away frantically. You marvel at him with wide eyes, barely blinking, hoping that Mnemosyne will bless you by emblazoning this moment into your memory. Because this is something you never want to forget. The taste of his hungry mouth on yours as he pulls you down for a kiss. The smell of sex in the air, his musk and yours mixing to create something sensual and earthy and raw. The feel of him around you, under you, inside you.

Oh, Gods, how good he feels inside you. His thick cock hits that glorious spot with every pump. You grip at your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingertips as he pounds into you.

“Ah, yes, right there! Oh, Jungkook, you worship your Goddess so well!”

He whines as you extol him loudly. Sweat drips down his face, but he doesn’t pause to wipe it away. All he wants is to please you. To feel you cum around his cock. His own orgasm is rising and bites his tongue, trying to distract from the unbelievable pleasure coursing through him. He’ll be damned if he finishes before you do.

He releases one of your hips, bringing his hand to his mouth. As you watch curiously, he sucks two fingers into his mouth lewdly, moaning around the digits. You whimper at the debauched noise, then again as he finds your clit, fondling the sensitive nub feverishly.

“Yes, oh, yes, Jungkook! Ah, my precious Jungkook!” It’s happening again. There’s that pleasure building. A divine spark, about to blossom into something extraordinary.

“Be-beloved Astraea,” Jungkook gasps, feeling you start to clench around him, “my Goddess!”

“Come now, Jungkook, come, and give me everything, all of you, all of you, all -” Your babbling ceases as your climax crests.

The spark ignites.

Your head tosses back as you cum for Jungkook. Your quivering walls grip his cock like a vise, and he loses his rhythm, thrusts becoming jerky and erratic.

“Astraea!” He sobs your name into the heavens, mouth gaping open as he finishes deep inside you, hot and white.

The intensity of your climax leaves your legs shaking, clit pulsating under Jungkook’s still-moving fingers. You slump forward onto his chest, and his arms wind around your back, holding you close while he pumps away a few more times, until he’s utterly and completely spent.

Neither of you speak for a few minutes, too busy panting to say anything. With you melted against him like this, he can feel your heart beating as riotously as his own.

His fingers trace symbols on your back, composing invisible psalms. Inscribing your skin with the words he can’t say out loud. “Have I pleased you, my Goddess?”

“Mmmm,” is your muffled response. You lift your face from his shoulder and smile. “Yes, precious one. I am most pleased.” You slip off of him, curling into his side with a blissful sigh. “And you? Was that a sufficient reward?”

His eyes widen. “I - of course I - that was more than I deserve! I’m not worthy to even have imagined -”

Laughing, you press your lips to his, cutting off his incredulous sputtering. “Breathe, Jungkook. You are worthy of anything I choose to give you. Remember that.”

He nods, cheeks turning red. After a moment, you turn onto your side, and pull his arm over you, so that your back is pressed against his chest. “Lie here with me for a little while?”

“Anything for you, my Goddess.”

He nuzzles his nose into the back of your head, breathing in deeply. Your hair smells like smoke and salt, the fire and ocean air imbuing the strands. But beneath that, there is a note of something ineffable. A scent that is uniquely you. He inhales again, trying to ingrain it into his mind like a brand.

His arms tighten around your waist as he snuggles closer. After a few minutes, you realize his deep, even breathing means he is asleep. A pleased smile graces your lips as your heavy eyelids begin to close. You give in to the exhaustion that overwhelms your mortal form. Selene has not yet finished her nightly travels. Might as well rest for a little while.

Some time later, you awaken. A soft pink and orange glow over the ocean tells you that Eos stirs, preparing to drive away the night with her golden chariot. Jungkook still slumbers, innocent countenance completely relaxed. Tenderly, you stroke his cheek, and his eyes peek open.

“Goddess,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. “You’re here. I thought it was a dream.”

“No, there were no visits from Morpheus tonight,” you laugh, making him smile. He rolls onto his side to face you. “It was very real. And wonderful. But dawn is rising. I must go.”

His eyebrows gather, and you gently press a finger to the space between them, smoothing away the wrinkle.

“What is it, precious one?”

He sighs at the concern in your voice. He doesn’t mean to trouble you. “Nothing, my Goddess. I know you cannot stay.” He traces your lips with his thumb, flushing when you press a tiny kiss to his fingertip. “But if I… if I were to summon you again…”

“What would you ask of your Goddess now?”

A thousand requests flit through his mind, each one greedier than the last. It would be selfish of him to want more.

If only he were a selfish person.

After a moment of silent reflection, he just smiles. “Maybe the Moirai will bring us together again one day.”

Beaming, you cup his face. “Anything is possible, precious one. Never lose your hope.”

He presses his mouth to yours. In the sun’s early rays, he kisses you slowly, languidly, trying to stretch these final moments into an eternity. But he is not Chronos, and time will not bend to his will. Before you pull away, you lightly rub your thumbs over his closed eyes, and he shivers as a strange tingle runs down his spine. A spark of warmth.

“Goodbye, my precious Jungkook.”

“Goodbye, my beloved Astraea.”

The wind rushes past him, leaving behind an empty silence. He opens his eyes. The blanket remains, as does the simmering ash of the fire. But you are gone.

The beach is quiet now, save for the sound of waves crashing on the shore. As Jungkook shakes off the last vestiges of sleep, Eos crests the horizon. Jungkook rests his arms on his knees and tips his head back to gaze at the heavens. In the light blue expanse of the morning sky, the stars fade away one by one until only a single gleaming light remains. He smiles, the newfound sparkle in his eye matching the shimmering above.

Taglist: @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; @bangtanintotheroom; @taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @wonieclub; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada; @addictedtohobi; @shatzkrinslinzki; @jaiuneamesolitaiire; @joonjulyagust-d; @highly-functioning-mitochondria; @btsgotjams27; @allamericanuniverse; @pleaseshutupsara; @guvgguk; @goodgollyitslolly; @laylasbunbunny; @goldensugarywaffles

If your URL is italicized, tumblr won’t let me tag you! 😤 Check your settings!

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infernalwitxhcraft · 2 years ago

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Winter Solstice Ritual

I figured I would share a ritual for today that can possibly provide you with inspiration for your celebrations. It is generalized, so to speak, and was made with the intent to not follow any specific paths. As always, substitute what you need to, omit if something doesn't fit into your practice, and make it your own!

You will need:

- Object that symbolizes winter (to you, your climate is a factor in your choice)

- Paper(s) & pen

- Pinecone

- Cauldron

- Twine

- White, black, and red chime/taper candles

- Offerings (optional)

- Candle to light in a window

- Sand to layer at the bottom of the cauldron (for fire safety reasons, my friends)

The Ritual:

1) Prepare your space however you wish to. Get all of the supplies in the area you'll be working in. Cast your circle or compass now, if you normally do so.

2) Begin with the releasing component of this ritual. Place the object you are using to symbolize winter in the center of your altar/sacred space. Start writing down all of the habits you wish to release, to not bring with you into this new year on a piece of paper. Sign your name three times on top of the list. Once you are finished, start folding it into a packet, with each fold being away from you, turning counterclockwise as you fold. Tie with the twine, using as little as possible to prevent fire hazard issues.

3) Light the bundle of paper on fire and place into your cauldron. Make sure you have sand at the bottom of this. You can also use tongs if you don't want to get burnt. Recite:

"As this petition burns,

I am released from the habits that have haunted me.

It is time to let you go so I can make room for better things on my journey.

Once this paper is ash,

So mote it be."

4) After this has burnt out, let's focus on the winter representation. Carve your intentions at the base of each candle. If you choose to dress them with oil & herbs, do so now. You can also place the herbs in a large circle around the candles, containing everything inside. Light the black, white, and red candles, forming a pyramid around the chosen object. Ask them to bring you balance (black & white) and to banish any negativity (red). As they burn, focus and meditate on these negative energies and habits leaving your body. Feel all aspects of your body and mind begin to balance out as the candles begin getting to their halfway point. If you are someone who uses energy work in your practice, this is the perfect time to tap into that to ensure that everything goes as you'd like it to.

5) Next, you will take your pinecone and place it front and center. Write out all your petitions of good habits you want to manifest & things you'd like to see happen in the new year on separate, small slips of paper. Think wishes, hopes, goals, positive affirmations, etc. Place it in the open areas of the pinecone. If you wish, you can sprinkle powdered cinnamon or cinnamon sugar on top. Melting beeswax first may be a good way to make it stick, just make sure to do this before sticking the petitions in! It's up to you on what you'd like to do with it after. Some choose to burn it. Others choose to hang on to it until the following year to open and read their wishes, to see how they manifested. If you aren't able to burn the pinecone itself (as it is a fire hazard if you don't have the proper place to do it in), remove & burn the petitions in a cauldron and leave the pinecone back out in nature as an offering.

6) If you want to do deity worship or work with spirits & make offerings, now is the time to do so. If you don't, go ahead and move onto the next portion.

7) Lastly, we will light a candle to welcome in the sun & longer days ahead. It can be whichever color you wish. Just make sure to snuff it out before bed or leaving the house. Recite something along these lines:

"I welcome the Sun

To warm my skin and to lift my spirits once again.

May you rise high and impart your clarity upon all,

Lengthening your time above me.

Grace the lands with your energy,

And melt the snow at last."

This is a general guideline of a little something you can do. Adapt it to whatever you please and put your own flair on it with the traditions your practice! For example, if you do a yule log that would be a perfect winter representation to burn the candles around and then toss it into your fireplace after. If you are a demonolator, you may wish to incorporate your Rite to Belial before or after. If you are wiccan, there may be more celebrations you want to add to honor the god and goddess. The list goes on, but these are some examples.

If you don't live somewhere that pinecones exist, you can find them in craft stores oftentimes. I feel that it has become a favorite spell for many witches this time of year, and is quite popular. I am by no means the inventor of it, and it has been around for a long time so everyone has their own take. It's fun to craft wreaths, witches ball ornaments, and a few protective decorations for the home this time of year. It might be another thing to add to the ritual or to do on the solstice at another point in the day. Perhaps I'll upload more ideas next year as far as the crafty stuff goes. A big way I like to celebrate the solstice is by honoring twelve different spirits leading up to the date. You could also do it right after, depending on your perspective & beliefs. I have found it to become a cherished practice for me though.

In a couple of days, I will be posting a motivational spell for the new moon that I encourage following this up with! A tarot spread for the solstice will be coming tomorrow.

#witchcraft #witch #witchblr #magic #winter solstice #yule #winter solstice ritual #wheel of the year

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years ago

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21. Hizashi Yamada and Shouta Aizawa

Theme: Fox spirits/gods

Kinks: Threesome, double penetration, biting, marking, praise kink, oral (receiving), breeding kink (if you squint), polyamory/polyandry

Sorry this is a little late. My brain was like, I know I said I was going to make these short one-shots but how about we make them bigger?

(The gif has nothing to do with the story, obvi)

Masterlist

You climbed up the many steps leading to the shrine. This was your last resort. The humiliation induced by your vicious ex-boyfriend still left gashes in your heart. Your curse was that you fall in love too quickly and are blind to all faults until it's too late. Your most recent misadventure in love had been so cunning, so cruel that you wasted three years of your life with a man who was, in the words of your best friends, a massive cunt. Manipulative, emotionally abusive, but the cherry on top was the rumor he spread about you having an S.T.D. you'd gotten while cheating on him. Mind you, he was the one with the sexually transmitted disease. You were spared because you hadn't slept with him in recent months. The sting was a deadly blow to your self-confidence and trust in men.

After months of battling depression and anxiety, your aunt suggested a remote village trip and visit this exact shrine. Upon arrival, you were acutely aware of all the women either paired off or visibly pregnant. You noticed this at arrival. It was small at first—a lot of couples paired off, two by two like swans. Then, when you approached the marketplace and asked for directions, you noticed how the shopkeeper was pregnant, along with her sister and sister-in-law. There weren't many single men or single women as far as you could tell. Even a male couple looked happy.

You wanted to burn this town to ashes.

It was insulting, really. You came all this way just to have happiness and love shoved in your face while you, the miserable wretch, were forced to pine. You tried not to scowl as happy couples passed you by. Keeping your eyes focused ahead of you was all you could do to avoid knocking the smiles off their faces. Now, here you were, mounting the steps to a shrine shrouded by pines and red maples. Leaves rustled on the steps, which drew your attention. Fallen leaves littered the stairs and the shrine's sacred grounds, but that seemed awfully unauspicious. Was there no groundskeeper, no shrine maiden, no priest to clear them away? As you reached half-way up the hill, you noticed the smell in the air. Not a bad smell, but it was pervasive all around. The scent invaded your senses. It smelled a lot like jasmine and patchouli. You didn't think much of it and thought it was just someone burning incense at the shrine.

Two masculine figures lounged in the garden. One looked indifferent while the other moped. The latter was blonde; it matched the protruding fox ears on his head and the fluffy, swishing tail patting his thigh. He rested his head on the lap of the former, who appeared much like him except his hair, ears, and tail were black as ink. This one wore an indifferent expression. He looked out into the garden as he made a mental list of all the things he had to do around the shrine. Weeds had encroached where they weren't wanted during the summer and now choked the garden. Fall arrived early this year and made the trees shed their leaves too soon. The steps, as well as the grounds and roof, were covered in maple leaves. The inside needed moping, shining, dusting, and replacing oil lamps. There was still the matter of the hole in the sanctuary's ceiling that needed mending. But was there any human around to do it? No. The last priest died over fifty years ago. Shouta, the black fox, and Hizashi, the blonde fox, had been left alone to answer the whims of pilgrims.

It was almost thankless work. Ensuring happy marriages, love matches, and fertility was hard work when one was forced to clean their own shrine. As long as they were tied to this spot, Hizashi and Shouta had no other choice. The only thing more embarrassing than a shrine-god having to clean up his own shrine was a homeless one.

"I'm starting to miss the old man," said Hizashi. "He was so much fun to drink with. At least he had a sense of humor. Unlike the other fuddy-duddies, they tried to send us."

A few months after the last priest's death, his congregation tried to settle another to take his place. The successor was stern and took his job too seriously for Hizashi's liking. 'He's too dull,' Hizashi used to complain. Shouta wasn't much of a fan either, but it was more due to Hizashi's constant sighs and complaints that drove him to chase the priest away. Shouta ensured that no other settled down for too long. As far as the pair was concerned, the priest who died fifty years ago was their last worthy priest.

"It's so boring and lonely up here. There's no one to play with," Hizashi complained.

Shouta rolled his eyes. Hizashi was in one of his moods again. Boredom took a toll more on him than his 'co-worker' and sometimes lover. It was easy to get bored of making love for fifty-odd years while still working a thankless job. Only occasionally did some old lady or grateful newlywed came to offer incense and drop a donation. Whenever there was money, even a scrap, either Shouta or Hizashi would venture down the hill to mingle with the humans for a little bit. Men or women often flirted with them, but they couldn't decide on a partner they could both enjoy. Instead, everyone was declined.

"Maybe we could call up Nemuri and see what she's up to?" Hizashi suggested.

Shouta gave a flat answer. "No."

Hizashi pouted and went back to his pouting.

"You're no fun," said Hizashi.

"I know." Shouta petted Hizashi's ears to placate him.

Suddenly, a shudder rippled through both of them. They looked at one another. A smile quickly spread across Hizashi's face.

"We have a visitor!" He jumped up at once and dusted himself off.

"We have visitors all the time," said Shouta, but this was a lie. Visitors became fewer after the summer once pilgrims got their desire.

"But did you feel that, Shouta? A poor, miserable, broken-hearted young woman just crossed the path of our statues, and she's heading this way. Don't you feel it? Oh, the poor dear?"

The shrine-gods knew the hearts of all those who entered. It was their specialty to work in all the matters of the heart and the bedroom. Sniffing out broken hearts was a talent they both shared, but Hizashi was the more sensitive one. A fractured heart held an aura that most humans couldn't detect by sensing it alone. Sometimes it was a trifling matter. This time, however, Hizashi felt far more significant pain. Betrayal called out to him like a widow. He hadn't even seen the woman's face but could smell her despair, hate, and ache from miles away. She needed help.

Shouta felt it too. He pitied the human and wondered what brought her to that state. His curiosity was peaked, which didn't happen very often, if at all. Her presence was a sad one, and it threatened to taint the whole shrine with her negativity. Negativity drew hungry ghosts and pesky imps like moths to a flame. All of that meant more work for him. Aside from wanting to protect what little dignity his shrine had left, it was his duty to help this miserable wretch.

"Can we introduce ourselves, Shouta?" Hizashi's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief, hope, and something else Shouta could not easily define.

Shouta weighed the pros and cons in his head. By the time he came to a decision, he could hear the woman walking into the courtyard. Her voice was carried on the autumn wind. She was curious too, likely wondering why a shrine was seemingly left abandoned and in disarray. It would be rude to let her go forlorn after a trek up the hill.

You passed under the second torii gates and a second pair of fox statues. There were no lion-dogs as you saw in most other shrines, but this one had a strong love for foxes apparently. You looked at the water in the pavilion used for ceremonial purification. You cringed at the slightly brackish water and used very little to purify your hands. As soon as you got to the nearest restroom, you were going to scrub your hands raw. Walking down the narrow path leading to the inner sanctuary, you kept noticing very odd things. The shrine was in massive disrepair with cracks, debris, and brackish water. It wasn't a complete eyesore, but something did not feel right. There was not a soul you could find; loneliness pervaded every inch of the place. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked on. You found the spot where wishers and pilgrims wrote their prayers on wooden plaques to hang them up. While there were plenty of rustling in the wind, they weren't very many. You scrawled your desire for a loving partner, happiness, and to forget the man who wounded you so deeply.

You hung the plaque alongside the three dozen blowing in the wind. You went further ahead to pay your respect at the small public shrines built on the side of the shrine's complex. There were only two buildings. One foot across, seven feet long, and six feet tall, they were impressively big for small shrines. These were the only buildings uncovered by leaves and pines branches. You marveled briefly at their pristine appearance. In your bag, you brought along the incense your aunt prescribed. You retrieved two sticks of carnation incense and dipped the stick end in the bowl of sand. You lit the incense, clapped your hands twice, and said a prayer. You did this twice at both shrines.

You turned your back to face going all the way down the hill again when you spotted something at the corner of your eye. At first, it seemed like your mind was playing tricks on you. Out of the corner, you thought you saw a ball of glowing blue light flicker in the window of the main shrine. The main shrine was off to limits to everyone but the priests and shrine maidens. This was where the kami, the god, was housed and worshipped by the clergy. You turned to see if what you saw had really been there. Another flash of blue flickered in the window and then another. You swallowed hard, but curiosity pinched at you. You wanted to know. With a quick glance around, you wandered over to the main shrine.

You cut over the grass and walked into the oratory. There were no voices or footsteps other than your own. You called out to anyone who would be listening, yet no one answer was given. Your voice carried down the halls. However, just because no one answered, it didn't exclude the idea altogether that no one listened. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you drew closer to what you assumed was the forbidden connecting hall that led into the inner sanctuary, which was supposed to be off-limits to the public. As far as you could tell, no one was around to stop you or tell you no.

You took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. Your heart pounded inside your chest. The halls were so dark you had to grope around just to find a wall. You tried to turn around and head out only to get yourself more lost. It was as if you were stuck in a maze. Every direction looked the same, and turning around seemed to make matters worse.

In desperation, you called out, "Hello?"

Still no answer. You trekked further in the hopes of running into someone, anyone, and get them to show you the way out. You hoped that they had a flashlight on hand. You would barely make out your hand in front of your face if you held it up.

Another flash of blue had you whirling on your face. You whipped your head in that direction. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt a pair of eyes bore a hole into the back of your head. It didn't feel like something glaring at you, but the sensation frightened you nevertheless. You took off in the direction of the blue flash. Yet another appeared up ahead, further along than the previous. You started running after it. More appeared, and each grew more distinct in shape and color than the last. You managed to get close enough to hear the hiss and flicker of its fire. You stared at a ball of blue flames with its tongue licking the air. It disappeared into nothingness and reappear off in a different direction.

You found it hovering in front of a set of shoji doors. It disappeared once more. Lights flickered behind the rice paper. You pried your fingers against the seams and pushed the door open. Lamps lined the walls. They burned with pale blue and white flames behind their screens. You approached with caution and gripped your bag straps tight.

Wooden floors creaked beneath your feet. You mentally cursed yourself for dragging your shoes inside the holy place, but the longer you glanced around the room, the more it seemed that this was not an ordinary shrine. The room had a lower portion accessible by three steps, and a red mat covered much of the space. A shrine rested on the floor on the other side. In each of the four corners was a vase that held carnation flowers. Somehow, all the flowers were in perfect condition and thrived in the forgotten space. You stepped carefully towards the shrine when you felt something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. Not something, but someone and just a someone but someones. It wasn't the fact that you finally met another person at the shrine or that they were men that gave you alarm. It was the ears sticking out on top of their heads, the tails swishing back and forth behind them, and the regal manner in which they bore themselves. The one in a black yukata folded his arms across his chest and looked quite serious, probably because you were trespassing. The other man wore a red yukata, but he appeared far more friendly than his companion. He smiled broadly at you as if you hadn't just broken one of the most sacred, unspoken rules about behavior at a shrine. You swallowed hard and bowed from the waist.

"I am so sorry for intruding, sirs. I-I didn't mean to intrude…I got lost and couldn't find my way out. I'll leave immediately if you just show me the way. I promise I'll never come back and disturb another shrine so long as I live!"

"Easy there, little sparrow. No need to get riled up," said the friendlier one.

Slowly, you raised yourself up. You looked at them again, still bewildered by their ears and tail. They were either the strangest priests you were likely to ever come across, or they were—

"What business do you have here?" Asked the more somber fellow.

"I-I" You choked on your words. "I had a boyfriend who did rotten things to me. I was hoping to, to, um, to…" Your voice trailed off.

You were too distracted by the fox ears on their heads. They looked too real to be fake, but how was that possible?

The blonde one snapped his fingers.

"My eyes are down here, love," he chuckled.

Your cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Please, if you could just tell me how to get out of here, I'll leave you alone."

Your first instinct would be to bolt for the door. When you glanced behind them, the doors had been shut when you remember having left them open. Were these demons standing in front of you? Is that why the shrine seemed so empty?

"Leaving so soon? But you haven't even heard our proposal yet?" Said the blonde.

Your brows furrowed. "P-Proposal?"

The black-haired fox-eared man slipped something out of his yukata sleeve. It was your wood plaque you left hanging outside. His ebony eyes gleaned over your wish and read it aloud.

"I don't know who will answer this, but I want to find true love, a life partner who will never stick a knife in me and twist. A man, or frankly anyone who will love and care for me. Please bring me happiness and make me forget about the man who abused me for three years. Is this your wish, Y/N?"

Your face drained of color. "How do you know my name?"

"We have our methods. I'm Hizashi. The dour one is Shouta. It's lovely to meet you."

"W-what are you?" You ventured to ask.

"We're the shrine gods. It's been lonely up here for a while now. The priests haven't been to our liking for the last fifty years, so we're forced to take care of the place ourselves, which is rather insulting if you think about it," said Hizashi.

"And…what are you the gods of?"

"Love, fertility, happy marriages, love-matches, all that fun stuff," answered Hizashi.

"Are you the reason why every other woman I met in town is pregnant?"

Hizashi answered, "Of course. We've been blessing this region with successful pregnancies for centuries. There hasn't been but a handful of miscarriages in all these years thanks to us."

"We're not the cause of the pregnancies if that's what that face is for, Y/N. We just ensure that the infant comes to term and reduce sterility in men and women," said Shouta, who had apparently been studying your face very closely.

Your blush darkened.

"Otherwise, this town would be full of half-fox spirits roaming around, wouldn't it?" Hizashi laughed.

"Okay…" You thought for a moment about what you were going to say next. This was all too surreal, but this was better than feeling miserable. "But what do you want from me?"

Hizashi and Shouta exchanged looks. A soft smile crept upon Shouta's face.

"We'll grant you your wish. On a few conditions," Shouta began. "As you can tell, our shrine is in dire need of—what do you humans call it nowadays? T.L.C.?"

"Tender love and care?" You said.

"Yes. That. Our shrine has been in disrepair for some time, but as much as the villagers enjoy making offerings, they aren't too keen on cleaning it. As you can imagine, it's rather embarrassing cleaning up your own shrine," Shouta continued.

"So, what you're saying is that you'll get me a decent boyfriend if I clean your house?"

"We can do better than, little sparrow," said Hizashi.

You felt his eyes wander your body. You couldn't help but shiver. Out of fear or anticipation, you couldn't tell at this point. You might have been hallucinating for all you knew.

"How would you like to be the wife of a god?" Hizashi laughed again. "Or two?"

"W-Wife? I just wanted a boyfriend who loved me. I don't remember asking for polyandry. Besides, why would you tie yourselves to someone human and mortal."

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," said Hizashi.

"What do you say? Help us repair the shrine, and you'll have something better than a boyfriend. It sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?" Asked Shouta.

"Yeah," you said incredulously. "A little too good to be true. What's the catch?"

"You would have to live here and 'maintain' the shrine's cleanliness and reputation. We could get someone to teach you to perform the kagura dance. Learn a few things that would make you useful around the shrine and to the villagers. A shrine maiden, for all intents and purposes."

That did even things out. You weren't tied to your apartment, especially since it still had the ghosts of your past boyfriends lingering in there. You didn't go to college, and you hated your job. Becoming basically a shrine maiden and marry a pair of fox-gods seemed like a step-up from your hum-drum life.

"Hypothetically, if I agreed to all that, how would we go about making it official? Are we to have a big wedding? Does Ōkuninushi* have to be involved? Is there supposed to be a ceremony we have to follow?" The questions tumbled out of your mouth one by one in your unusual state of mind.

"So many questions. To answer all of them in one go, here it is. All you have to do is enjoy yourself," said Hizashi.

Before you could ask what he meant, Hizashi closed the gap between you. His mouth was suddenly on yours, and his hands settled on your backpack's straps. Your load was unburdened by your shoulders. Hizashi's hands ran through your hair, holding your head hostage. You heard Shouta's footsteps come along beside you. He worked your shoes off your feet and your socks as well. When he arose, Shouta's hands found your waist. He snatched your head away from Hizashi to kiss you himself. From there on out, it was a frenzy of hands, mouths, and tongues teasing you.

The first thing to go was clothes. Hizashi and Shouta worked together to get rid of the annoying layers that kept them from feeling up more of your skin. Your autumn outfit suited the chilly weather outside but was ill-fitted for their current needs. Their hands peeled off each layer of clothing until you wore nothing but your bra and panties. Somewhere between removing each item of clothing, one of them summoned an extra-large tatami mat out of thin air. You landed softly on the sleeping mat, cradled between them. Their kimonos were disposed of in the same manner as your modern clothes, with one exception. They were both utterly naked underneath their yukatas. Your blush spread down to the top of your chest at the mere sight of their hardening members.

"You look so pretty blushing like that, Y/N," said Hizashi.

He took his place between your legs. Hizashi playfully snapped the hem of your panties. He seemed to enjoy your small yelp as the elastic snapped against your skin. Shouta sat on his knees and pulled your back flush against his chest. He unclipped your bra and tossed it aside. Hizashi pulled at your underwear until the fabric tore. You opened your mouth in protest, but all the words stopped in your throat to make room for the moan. Shouta palmed your breasts and tweaked your nipples into stiff peaks. Your ruined panties were forgotten as soon as Hizashi settled one of your legs over his shoulder, and he ran his long tongue along your slit.

"It's been a while since we've laid with a woman. You'll have to forgive us if we're a bit rusty," said Hizashi.

Hizashi ran his tongue along your slit again and hummed at your taste. His tongue dove between your folds and pinched your clit. Meanwhile, Shouta kept at his administrations to your chest and kissing your shoulders. You arched your back when you felt the tiniest pinprick of sharp teeth graze your skin. Shouta smirked at you and gave you a nice look at the fangs he had. Hizashi had the same situation going on. You could feel his teeth carefully caress your sensitive bits.

"Do you like my teeth, Y/N?" Asked Shouta.

You bit your lower lip and nodded.

"Then you're really going to like this." Shouta lowered his head to the spot where your neck met your shoulders.

He bit down, but not hard enough to draw blood. His hands continued to tease you while his mouth and teeth left dozens of love bites all over your neck. Hizashi pulled his head up from between your legs. He watched for a moment how your face twisted in ecstasy as Shouta marked your lovely skin. It didn't take long for the idea to get in his head that he should do the same. Hizashi brought his teeth against your inner thigh and nipped. He repeated the process over and over until both of your legs bore his teeth marks and hickies. You squirmed for them. Heat traveled in two directions, to your head and your lower belly. Hizashi resumed his task of fucking you with his tongue and added two fingers to help him in this endeavor. Soft squelches from you gushing over him was enough to make you never want to leave.

"You're so pliable, and your breasts are breathtaking," Shouta sighed next to your skin. "Are you about to cum, Y/N?"

You bucked your hips to the rhythm of Hizashi eating you out. Slowly, you nodded. Your fingers clutched Hizashi's head, mindful of his ears.

"Then," Shouta whispered the next part in your ear. "Cum."

Hizashi worked faster, pumping and licking your cunt. You grabbed for Shouta as pleasure ripped down your spine. Hizashi and Shouta shoved you face-first down the precipice. Your walls clenched tight around Hizashi's fingers and tongue while your jaws hung open. No one else could make you moan as loud as you did. And likely, nobody else ever will.

When Hizashi came up for air, his mouth and chin were drenched your essence. He leaned up, but instead of kissing you, he planted his lips on Shouta's. In turn, Shouta licked Hizashi's mouth to get a taste of you for himself while he was at. Shouta reached down and played with your clit while making-out with Hizashi briefly. You felt their members stand proudly against your body, and your inner walls clenched at the thought of one or both filling you to the brim.

Shouta and Hizashi kissed one more time. Hizashi peeled you off of Shouta just long enough for the latter to stretch out on his back. You were turned around. Shouta gestured with a 'come-hither' crook of his finger, and you crawled towards him. His hands grabbed your hips, made you straddle him, and pressed the blunt head of his cock against your slippery, wet cunt.

"Are you ready?" He asked. It was child's play holding you up like that with his cock more than ready to impale you.

You nodded your head. Shouta slowly, carefully pulled you down on his cock. It stretched you open again. You sank down on him until you were fully seated. You tried not to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. Shouta then grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down. Hizashi was right behind you, fisting his cock. He wasn't as big, but he was just as long. Hizashi placed his other hand on the small of your back. You felt his cock probe the area where Shouta was already preoccupied. Something clicked in your head. Shouta grabbed and clutched your hands. Beads of sweat ran down the side of your face while Hizashi brushed his cuck against your cunt.

"Look at me," said Shouta. "Look at me. You're going to be fine. We'll make you feel so good."

"So very good," Hizashi cooed.

You tightened your grip on Shouta's hands. You stared at his face as Hizashi pushed forward, stuffing you close to the point of damage. You were well-lubed up to take both of them, but in practice, this was your first time having two men fill you at the same time. Inch by careful inch, Hizashi pushed into your cunt. When he was fully seated, he let out a long sigh.

"I can feel both of you against, and it feels so good." Hizashi shuddered.

"Can you move?" Shouta asked Hizashi.

"Give me a minute."

You were given a few minutes reprieve, and in that time, you felt your lower belly swell. You felt them stretch you to impossible measures. Though tears stained your cheeks, you never felt more pleasure. The mixture of both pleasure and pain blurred the lines. It wasn't long before you were being pushed and pulled in either direction, their cocks fucking you deep.

Wet skin slapped against skin. The men you were sandwiched between grunted and moaned your praises at your ability to take them both so deep. There weren't any words you could say with any cohesion. Words became meaningless when being fucked into oblivion. Hizashi and Shouta worked in tandem. When one pulled out, the other plowed right in. Both cocks kissed your cervix as they drove themselves, and each other, wildly into your cunt. You felt fluids rush between your legs that mingled with your sweat. You squeezed Shouta's hands and buried your face in his chest.

Higher, higher, and higher still, you were flying. You bit Shouta's chest as their cocks thrust in and out. Your brain turned into mush at this point. All you cared about was getting fucked on their cocks forever. Little else mattered beyond that.

"I'm close," said Shouta.

"M-Me too," said Hizashi.

"Then let's finish it."

Without another word, they started to drive faster than before, and you thought it was impossible. Shouta returned your bruising grip and rammed upwards to meet Hizashi's downward thrust. They both moved quickly and headed towards coming undone inside you. You felt it too. Your walls spasmed and fluttered around both their cocks, though the stretch made it hard to tell. They shifted into an erratic pace rather than a smooth move. Their cocks drove harder into your cunt. Animalistic grunts filled the room as both Shouta and Hizashi slammed home. You screamed your climax just at the same time they did. You kept screaming while ropes of cum warmed your belly. You were moaning into Shouta's chest as you felt buckets of their seed filled your womb. There was nothing for you to wonder about why they were the gods of fertility and pregnancy.

Hizashi pulled all the out first. He massaged your shoulders while Shouta lifted your hips off him. Hizashi's long fingers dabbed some of the cum dripping down your thighs and pushed it back inside your weeping pussy.

"You gotta keep it in, ya, little sparrow. You want to be a good wife to your husbands, don't you?" Hizashi cooed.

*Ōkuninushi- mentioned in both the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki as the god of nation-building, agriculture, business, medicine, love, marriage, and fortune

#kinktober #kinktober week #my hero academia fanfiction #kinktober my hero academia edition #reader fic #hizashi yamada #present mic #presentation michael #present mic x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #erasermic #erasermic x reader #poly #I'm also sorry it's ridiculously long

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rozengrotto · 4 years ago

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Vil + Idia: I'll Bring Out the Best In You

(a oneshot in which Vil decides to do Idia’s make-up for the entrance ceremony...and tries to teach him something about the beauty inside him)

“Ah, Roi du Poison! Immaculate! Simply immaculate! The way he leads the brush, like an artist painting the piece of his life time. I'm speechless by his grace, his elegance. Beauté! 100 points!”

“Rook, you sure like to run your mouth.”, Vil muttered under his breath. The Pomefiore student was in the midst of tracing around Idia's eye with a jetblack liner. Once he was satisfied with the result, he moved on to the other eye, repeating the same practiced motions.

Ignihyde's dormhead looked anything but happy in his current position. All the fussing around, the stench of flowery perfume and being handled around like a make-up doll was like a nightmare come true for a tranquility-loving hikkikomori such as him.

“C-can I go now?”

“No. I'm not finished with you yet.”

Manicured nails dug into ghostly pale skin as Vil gripped Idia's chin and directed it to face the other way.

“You are a dormhead now, a figure of respect, and as such you need to take proper care of your appearance. All those students in the dormitory you lead look up to you and expect nothing but perfection.”

Idia swallowed hard, sinking a little more into his seat.

“G-great. Now I'm even more on edge.”, he mumbled grimly.

A smirk stretched onto Vil's lips as he started to apply some concealer for the shadows under Idia's eyes. Gods, this boy needed more sleep.

Vil would have to set him some clear boundaries such as no playing video games in the dead of the night and also no binge-watching whatever cutesy anime show he was into this time.

Also he mentally noted to let Idia see the sun some more, because – goodness gracious, people could get blinded by that toothpastey white skin and unhealthy complexion of Ignihyde's leader. A life spent inside all day in his dark room wasn't doing his body any favors.

“E-everyone's expectations are too high. 0% of reaching the goal at this point. I'd initiate a retreat and abort the mission until my l-level's a bit higher – ah!”

Vil had yanked a flaming strand a bit too harshly.

“So you want to give up? Go back to your room and stick your head into the sand like a coward potato?”

“Uhm...yeah, kinda?”

Pomefiore's dorm leader huffed. “Unbelievable. However, it's a pity you think so, because I surely won't let you shirk your duties.”

Having said that, Vil let the fireproof hairbrush run through locks of blue fire in an attempt to tame some of the especially stubborn blazing curls of the fellow third year student.

“Roi de ta Chambre, please do tell, what sort of lipstick do you use? That hue of deep blue is quite wonderful, I think it would fit Vil's beauty as well.”, Rook asked with his usual grandeur as he assisted Vil by handing him the tools he needed to work on Idia's appearance.

“I d-don't use lipstick...my lips are naturally colored like that.”

The hunter's eyes widened and his hands shot up in front of his chest.

“Sacre bleu! How magnificent! I've never heard of such a thing!“

In contrast to Rook's marvel, Vil seemed unfazed and instead ordered: “Now, would you please look into the mirror?”

“D-do I have to? Really?”

Vil arched a blond eyebrow.

“What? Are you afraid of turning into stone from seeing your own face?”

Idia flinched a little, his shoulders drawing up to make himself small.

“Uh, I...I am not...really a fan of...l-looking at myself. My hair's awful and I'm...not really handsome overall, so...I don't need to be reminded of that e-every time.”

Pomefiore's leader suddenly stopped with his ministration of Idia's hair and bent down to look into the other's eyes. Idia's first instinct was too quickly avert his gaze with a squeak, but Vil wouldn't let that happen as he firmly captured Idia's bony face with both of his hands.

“Idia. Look at me.”

Ignihyde's dormhead shifted uncomfortably around, amber eyes shyly flickering towards Vil and then quickly back again.

“Never put yourself down like this. I don't want to ever hear such things from your mouth again.”

Some of the strictness left the blond's features again and his violet gaze softened a little.

“Listen. There's beauty in everyone of us. Some of it more hidden, some of it more blatant. As a sworn ambassador of grace and elegance, it's my job to polish that beauty of yours and make everyone else witness how you truly shine inside. You see? Would the famous Vil Schönheit really spend his valuable time working on a lump of coal if he didn't know that you were secretly a diamond in the rough?”

Rendered speechless by Vil's encouraging words, Idia could only stare as a soft hand moved his flaming bangs to the side, revealing his pale forehead.

“Almost like a different person, don't you think so? Beauty requires a lot of hard work and dedication. However, you can do anything you set your mind to if you really want. Even you.” Pomefiore's dormhead smiled as he watched the other student gape at his reflection in the mirror.

Their moment of wonder was interrupted when Rook clasped his hands together and cooed: “Magnifique! Vil, your words are a poem that would even let the Greek masters go green with envy! My heart has swollen numerous times with pride. Such beauty. Such poise. Ah, I feel like fainting.”

“I was merely speaking the truth.”, Vil stated courtly, picking up the brush again to continue his work.

“Uhm, th-thank you. I...I appreciate what you're doing, Vil-shi, really, b-but...we're not done yet?”

Idia fumbled with his hands.

“I...uh, there's a pick-up event in a game I like and it's running out in a few hours, so maybe we could postpone-”

Vil's face hardened.

“No. What is more important in this world, Idia Shroud? Beauty or a video game?”

“I...don't think my answer will satisfy you.”

“Good. Then keep that mouth of yours shut and let me turn you into a diamond.”

#idia shroud #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland #twst #pomefiore #ignihyde #rook hunt #twisted wonderland fanfiction #my writing

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gouged-out-eyes · 4 years ago

Text

Sacred Part 2

Summary: Tusk has made his decision, something that changes both his and Chloe’s lives forever.

Pairing: Yautja x human OC

Warnings: Some violence, shitty Yautja anatomy descriptions, some fighting, a little blood, smut

A/N: OMG I did it. I finished part 2. I’ve literally been working on this since I wrote Part 1 like three months ago. My muse bit me in the ass and here we are. BONUS: extra love to whomever can figure out the ending....

Part 1| Masterlist|

Tarei’hsan frantically presses buttons on the console, the ship shuddering as shots are fired at them. Chloe is safely tucked away in a pod, strapped in and ready in case things go wrong. The coordinates are set, ready to send her to the nearest oxygen-based planet. All he has to do is press a button.

He weaves the ship, dodging fire as he attempts to start a jump. He needs to get as far from there as he can, his ship only capable of taking so much fire. Things had not gone as he’d hoped. He had thought they were in empty space, but it appeared there were others in the area.

He had abandoned the idea of returning to his Clan Ship. There was a chance they would be killed on sight. There was a chance they would kill Chloe and make him watch. There was a chance she would be hated for her entire time there, shunned by the males and scorned by the females. He couldn’t put her through that. So he had changed course, cut the ties with his clan, and sent the ship off to empty space where he would have time to figure out where they were going to go.

But then she’d come in, smelling like sweet meat, clean and musky and he’d completely lost control. He’d mated with her, lost himself in her. He’d let his guard down and now they were being pursued by another spacecraft. He had sent the ship right into a trap and now he was paying the price.

He curses, steering away from another blast. The ship was almost ready, vibrating from the force of the damage and the power needed to make such a big jump. It was the safest place he knew for both of them and their best bet on a place to lay low for a while.

The wormhole opens in front of him, his ship jumping through, thankfully closing before the other ship can follow. He slows his ship down, preparing to enter the atmosphere of the planet before him. He keeps Chloe stored away, wanting to be ready for anything. She would forgive him later, he’s sure of it.

He lands on the planet, kicking up dust as he sets the ship down roughly. He runs a scan, pulling up everything that’s damaged. He’d need to do repairs before they did any more serious traveling. He makes sure the cloaking is on before he leaves the pilot’s seat, heading back towards the pods. He opens the pod, catching Chloe as she slides out. It would be a few minutes before she would wake up, so he returns to the pilot’s seat, holding her in his arms.

She’s soft and warm against him, and he can’t help but remember how she’d felt wrapped around him, tight and wet. He’d let her dominate him, let her take control. He’d wanted to fuck her like a female but he knew she was more fragile, more delicate than the females of his kind. He didn’t want to risk hurting her. She’d been so receptive to him, the sounds she’d made, the way she shivered when he touched her. He can feel himself getting hard again and pushes the thoughts away. That was for later.

Right now, he needed to find them someplace to stay, someplace to lay low.

Chloe starts to shift in his arms, groaning a little as she stretches. He purrs quietly to her, smoothing a hand down her back. She groans again, nuzzling closer to his chest. He stares down at her for a moment, tracing her features with his eyes. Yautja don’t define beauty in the same way humans do. Yautja don’t have a concept of beauty at all. Strength, power, hunting, and fighting abilities. Those were things Yautja took into consideration when looking for mates. But this small ooman, pathetically weak compared to him, had warped his ideals. She had wormed her way into his mind, into his heart, and changed him. But he had been the one to let it happen, too. He had let her worm her way in, twist him inside, change him. He liked it.

He leans back in his seat, cradling his tiny ooman in his arms. His clan may not agree, may not accept her, but he was willing to let it all go, leave it all behind for the sake of his ooman. His Yeyinde.

Chloe starts to stir again, Tarei’hsan’s helmet picking up her rising heart rate and her quickened breaths. He doesn’t loosen his hold, staring down at her as her eyes flutter then open. She frowns for a moment, looking around, her body tensing slightly.

“Tusk.” She says, her voice groggy and rough.

He purrs in reply, shifting her slightly to free one of his arms, reaching out a clawed finger to brush a stray hair from her eyes. He lets the claw trace lightly down the side of her face, watching her struggle to come out of the drugged sleep she had been forced into. He had given her half a dose, knowing her biology was different, and regardless of his blood running through her system, he could have easily killed her with a full dose.

“What...happen...”

“Attack.” He says, searching for the words in his database. “Hostile ship.”

“Where are we now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“Safe.”

She groans, laying her face against the armor on his shoulder. He continues to hold her, hoping he did the right thing. Hoping he made the right decision. He was forever an outcast, leaving his clan, his family behind, all for this tiny, fragile human in his arms. Was she worth all of it?

Yes.

He could start his own family, his own clan. He had heard of it being done. Bad Bloods did it all the time. He would be his own leader now.

********

Chloe rubs at her eyes, bare feet kicking up sand as she follows close behind Tusk. She was still groggy and disoriented, but Tusk had told her that would wear off soon. She pulls the blanket tighter around her, picking up her pace so she doesn’t get lost behind the long strides of her alien companion.

She hadn’t gotten much out of him, not that she had asked much to begin with. Wherever they had ended up, he had deemed it safe enough for them, at least for the time being. Chloe starts to get flashbacks to the time she’d watched Star Wars, being reminded of it as they enter the metal building. It wasn’t enough that she was being reminded of it, she’s living it. She was on an alien planet in outer space. Obviously one that was heavily trafficked, as the many ships sitting outside had told her.

She keeps her head down, a blanket covering her as she sticks close to Tusk nearly pressed up against his back. He’s speaking with someone she can’t see, not that she really wants to. It was enough of a shock to register the fact she wasn’t on Earth anymore, let alone the fact she was with an alien...an alien she had fucked...to try and wrap her brain around the fact there were more aliens around her. They were all aliens to her. Or was she the alien?

Chloe grips the back of Tusk’s belt as he speaks with someone, pressing up against his warmth. It had been warm outside, but the metal floor is cold against her bare feet. Thankfully no one seems to pay them any mind, giving them a wide berth in fact. Perhaps it was the nature of her companion. Or maybe that was just alien etiquette.

She’s pulled along as Tusk begins to move, making his way through crowds of creatures. Chloe keeps her head down, holding onto Tusk as he weaves his way towards a staircase, heading up. She nearly runs into his back when he stops, heading down a hallway before opening a door. She’s ushered inside before he closes the door, the airlock hissing. She pulls the blanket down so it’s wrapped around her shoulders, looking up at him. He’s at the small window, glancing out. Chloe takes a moment to look around the room, taking it in.

Had she not known she was on a different planet, she would have guessed she was in some sort of strange hotel. Maybe something one would find in Roswell or the Southwest. The entire room is metal, giving it a very futuristic look despite the obvious wear and tear. There’s what seems to be a bed in the corner, and a desk in another. There’s a door next to the bed, what she assumes leads to the bathroom. What she hopes leads to the bathroom.

Tusk moves from the window finally, making his way towards her. She looks up at him, craning her head to see him as he stops inches from her. He lifts his hand, clawed fingers tracing over her cheek before his palm presses against her skin. She leans into his touch, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“What happens now?” She asks, lips brushing the rough skin of his palm.

“Stay until safe.” He says through his helmet, claws running through her hair gently. “Then...I don’t know.”

She opens her eyes, looking up at him. “We’re not going to your clan are we?”

He shakes his head. “Too many...risks. Not...worth it.”

Chloe frowns slightly, pulling away from him and sitting on the bed. He watches her, mandibles clicking in confusion.

“I can’t help but feel this is partially my fault. Actually, it is all my fault. I’m the reason you can’t go back to your family. Your clan. You did all this for me and now you can’t ever see them again.” Chloe runs a hand through her hair tugging on it slightly. “Your entire life is ruined because of me.

The hand on her shoulder startles her. She had been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t even noticed him move close to her. Her back hits the mattress with a hard thump, nearly knocking the wind out of her. It’s not as soft as she’s used to, not even the pile of furs she’d been sleeping on the past few days weren’t as firm as this mattress. Despite its firmness it still dips as he climbs on, heavy weight denting the firm substance.

She can feel the warmth of him as he kneels over her, caging her in under his body. He lowers himself down, holding himself up on his elbows. His mask is nearly touching her face, close enough she can see the roughness of the metal, the divots and impurities in it.

They lay like that for a few moments, breathing in each other’s air before a single word is uttered.

“No.”

Chloe stares into the eyes of the helmet, lips parted slightly as she breathes in the slightly musky scent coming off him. She feels exposed suddenly, the blanket had fallen open. She had been forced to dress in her dirty clothes, her torn pants and the tank top she’d worn under her layers on Earth. The room is cold, making her aware of her lack of bra but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeyinde.” He breathes out, shifting ever so slightly over her. “Worth it.”

Chloe bites back tears at his words. They were simple but she could understand. He wouldn’t have risked taking her on his ship in the first place, he would have left her to die in the cold on Earth if he hadn’t thought she was worth it. He wouldn’t have risked his entire life, he wouldn’t have saved her. He wouldn’t have let himself be so vulnerable with her...he wouldn’t have been so gentle with her had he not thought her worth it. He hadn’t left his family, his clan because he felt like he had to. He was doing this because he thought she was worth it. He was putting her above everything he knew.

He pushes himself up, kneeling over her on the bed. Chloe chases him, pulling herself up so she’s kneeling as well, only putting her about eye level with his chest. She puts her hands on his shoulders, bringing herself up to press her lips against the metal of his helmet. He tenses slightly under her hands, but she moves back before he gets too uncomfortable.

“I understand now.” She says, sitting back on her heels. “Besides, we don’t need them. We can be our own clan.”

***********

It’s dark out when Tusk returns to the room. Chloe is wrapped up under layers of blankets, trying to get warm. It was warm on the planet during the day, but the nights were something else. Chloe had her back to the door, not wanting to move out of the warm spot she’d created. She knew Tusk would be disappointed in her lack of awareness, of her lack of self-defense, but she was tired and finally starting to get warm.

She hears the familiar hiss of air as he removes his helmet, setting it on the desk with a clunk. A few more clunks follow, meaning he had stripped off his armor. The bed dips as he settles on it, cold air meeting her skin as he slips under the blankets. She instantly rolls back against him, seeking out his warmth. She can feel the wire netting against his chest, pulsing out warmth under the blankets. She sighs contently, her sigh being met with a purr. She smiles softly to herself, a thick arm wrapping around her stomach, pulling her tighter against the solid body behind her, mandibles twitching in her hair. She feels small like this, his sheer size evident in moments like this. She’d been close to him, closer than this. She’d seen more of him than she ever thought she would when she first woke up in his ship. They’d shared an extremely intimate moment, one she wasn’t even sure the cultural meaning of to him completely, and to be totally honest, she wouldn’t mind doing it again.

But not right now.

She’s tired, the last of the drugs he’d used to knock her out wearing off, leaving her feeling exhausted despite the fact they’d put her to sleep. Despite the unknowns, more on her part than even his, she feels safe and comfortable in his arms. She knows he’ll take care of them both. He had so far.

********

The clothes help infinitely. Chloe’s not sure where they’d come from, or how they look perfect for humans, or even how he’d gotten the right size, but they fit almost perfectly and they’re extremely warm. She could gauge enough from his silent emotion and his posture he still wasn’t comfortable with her leaving the room yet, but at least he remembered to feed her and he had tried to make her as warm as he could. It seemed aliens were more adapted to the chill of space, and so most outposts like this were colder than humans were used to. It made sense to her. It wasn’t like humans were exactly traveling out this far. They weren’t adapted to this kind of life. She was the first, and no one even knew it.

It made her feel slightly melancholy. She did miss Earth. There were things she had hated, but it was still her home. She hadn’t left much behind, but her exit had been unexpected and the reality of her situation hadn’t hit her during her blissful time on the ship. But it wasn’t like she could convince him to go back. From what she could garner, his kind visited Earth fairly consistently and so going back would be a risk. It would be easier to track them. This was her life now.

He was her life now.

*******

“What are you doing?” Chloe asks him one day. She figures they’ve been there about a week now, as far as days go on the planet.

“Fix ship.” He says, messing with something electronic on the floor of their room. Chloe couldn’t even begin to tell you what it was or what it did. “Damaged.”

“From the other ship?”

All she gets is a grunt in reply.

“Was...was it your kind...that attacked?”

He shakes his head, locks swaying back and forth. “No.”

“Oh.” Chloe looks down at her hands. “Can...can I do anything to help?”

“No.”

Chloe bites her lip, pulling her knees to her chest. She can’t help but start to feel bored. She had absolutely nothing to do. She was stuck in their room all day, every day. The only excitement she had was his coming and going and their mealtimes. She needed something to do. Some entertainment. Anything.

That’s why she decides to leave the room one day when he’s out. She knows she shouldn’t, she knows she’s entirely alien to everyone that could possibly be in the outpost. She knows it’s dangerous, but she’s tired of being cooped up and bored. So, she leaves the room when he’s out fixing the ship.

She slowly makes her way down the steps, entering the lobby of sorts. There are creatures her mind couldn’t fathom sitting around. It was more like a bar than a lobby, really. She’s utterly fascinated by the completely different world, taking in everything she can.

She’s drawn to where groups of creatures are sitting around tables, playing what looks like Craps, but she can’t discern anything else. She leans against the side of the table, watching them curiously. None of them give her more than a glance, Chloe trying to work out the rules and point of the game on next to nothing as far as information goes.

After a couple of rounds, the creature next to her sets the dice in front of her, giving her a look. She doesn't need to speak the language to understand what that look means. She’s reaching for the dice before she can really think it through, but she’s stopped when a clawed hand wraps around the back of her shirt, yanking her away from the table. Her feet slide on the floor as she’s dragged towards the stairs, Tusk’s nails cutting into the skin on the back of her neck.

He’s angry. She can hear the angry trills and growls from his chest as they move away from the lounge area and back towards their room. Her feet leave the floor as she’s quite literally tossed into the room, hitting the metal floor hard. She coughs, the wind knocked from her lungs at the impact. It jars her, but not quite as much as the seething Yautja across the room.

Chloe jumps as his helmet hits the floor with a loud thud. She’s shaking, she realizes as she props herself up on her hands, staring at the angry alien. His eyes are filled with rage, glaring yellow slits at her. His mandibles are flared wide, fists clenched.

“Ooman stay.” He growls out, pacing back and forth.

“I was bored.” Chloe tries to defend herself. “I have nothing to do.”

“Dangerous. Ooman not know.”

“You won’t tell me anything! How am I supposed to know when you won’t tell me anything?” Her voice is rising, pushing herself up to her knees. Her side is sore where she hit the floor. She knew he was strong, but she hadn’t ever pictured the strength being used against her. She had herself convinced he wouldn’t hurt her. But he was still an alien. Had she made a mistake in thinking that of him?

“Ooman stay safe. Ooman do as told.”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Chloe says, feeling childish but she’s so angry and tired she can’t help but fight back. “I didn’t ask you to take me. I didn’t ask to be with you. I didn’t ask you to leave everything behind for me. I didn’t ask you to-”

A loud roar shocks her into silence. It’s louder than she’s ever heard from him, her ears ringing at the sound. She can’t help but fall back at his roar, backing up in fear. The sound is primal, dangerous, awakening some prey instinct in her that has her making herself as small as she can in the far corner of the room.

He’s standing there, eyes wide in anger, mandibles splayed. Chloe hadn’t felt this afraid of the one she’d met on Earth. She hadn’t ever felt this afraid before.

He stops roaring, glaring at her for a moment before bending to pick up his helmet, leaving the room with a slam of the door. Chloe curls up tighter in the corner of the room, burying her face in her arms.

**********

Chloe sleeps alone on the alien planet that night. She hadn’t seen Tusk since their argument and part of her is afraid he had left her. Abandoned her on this planet in his anger. She had just been bored. She hadn’t known anything. She didn’t know anything about the galaxy or other planets or the life on them. A few weeks ago she hadn’t even known life existed outside of Earth. Of course, there had been the “sightings” and the people who were convinced, but she had always been skeptical. Skeptical until proven real. That was her mantra.

But aliens were real. She was on some distant planet Earth probably didn’t even know about yet, crying over a fight with an alien species Earth also didn't know about. It was all very real, and here she was, crying after a childish argument with a species that could probably tear her in half with his bare hands. Who was she to think she could make decisions like that. Act stupidly in a place she was totally ignorant of? She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Tusk doesn’t come back. If he really did abandon her here. She really doesn’t know.

*********

Tusk can’t sleep.

He’s staring up at the three moons in the sky from the pilot seat of his ship. He had been so afraid...so worried when he’d spotted her in the lounge at the table. He had told her to stay in the room. He had told her it wasn’t safe and she had acted like a pup and defied him.

But her face when he had roared. The...fear in her eyes.

He feels a sick twisting in his stomach as he replays the moment in his memory over and over. It was a side of him he hoped she would never have to see. A side he never wanted to direct towards her. She was fragile, small. His little ooman and he had roared at her like...like an animal. He hadn’t meant it. He was blinded by his anger. He had lost his temper like a fiery Young Blood. He wouldn’t ever hurt her. Not his little Yeyinde.

And now here he was, sulking in his ship while she was alone.

He gets up, heading back into the outpost and up to their room. It’s dark inside but he can see her, curled up in the bed. She’s asleep, her breathing soft and even. He sets his helmet quietly on the table, getting rid of most of his armor as well before climbing into the bed next to her. She doesn’t wake, but she does shift closer to him. He runs a hand down her arm, feeling the softness of her skin, how delicate it is. He can smell the dried blood on her neck from where his claws had cut into her when he’d grabbed her. He feels the twisting in his gut again, moving his head to lick at the wounds.

He purrs quietly, tongue tasting the metallic blood. She stirs slightly, letting out a quiet groan.

“Tusk?” Her voice is thick with sleep, hand rubbing at her eyes.

He lets out a louder purr, nipping softly at her shoulder. She rolls back over, settling into sleep again, Tusk wrapping himself around her tightly, holding onto her determined not to let go.

**********

Chloe wakes up warm and comfortable. Her head is moving slightly, up and down in a smooth pattern. She would have been convinced she was on a boat if the past day’s events weren’t flashing through her head.

She moves slightly, lifting her head so she can look up at him. His eyes are closed, face relaxed as he sleeps. Chloe wants to move away from him but she’s stuck to his side by the arm around her waist. Her leg is thrown over his, body pressed tight against his side. She rests her chin on his chest, fingers tracing the mottled pattern of his skin. She doesn't remember him coming back, doesn’t even remember him joining her in bed.

She can’t help but remember the day before. The anger in his eyes, the roar. She’ll always remember that roar. More so that it was directed at her. But staring at him now while he’s sleeping, it’s hard to picture him as that fearsome predator she had seen yesterday. He’s still fearsome, but there’s a softness about him in his sleep. This is the Tusk she knew.

She looks back up at his eyes, finding them open and staring at her. She had been so lost in thought she hadn’t realized he had woken up. Hadn’t felt the change in his breathing. He stares at her with his yellow eyes, all signs of anger and malice gone. Her wandering hand is almost at his jaw now, her fingers wrapping around one of his locks. He lets out a trill and suddenly she finds herself laying on top of him.

“You scared me.” She says quietly, running her fingers over his lock, feeling the texture of it. “I thought...maybe...”

A purr rumbles through his body and into hers, vibrating every inch of her. His hand is splayed on her back, the other tracing the skin on the back of her thigh. “No hurt Yeyinde.”

Chloe lowers her gaze for a moment before looking back up at him. His hand has drifted down her back, splayed out on her lower back now. She can feel his heart thumping in his chest, an unusual rhythm to what she’s used to, but it’s become comforting to her now. She wraps her hand around his lock, tugging on it lightly. His body jerks under hers, hips shifting slightly. She gets a mischievous glint in her eye, tangling a hand in his locks before tugging hard.

He lets out a roar, but this one is different than the one he’d made yesterday. She’s familiar with this roar, having heard it before. She tugs again and he’s sitting up, her body dropping the few inches into his lap. Her shirt is history, claws leaving light lines on her skin as he rids her of the fabric, hands sliding up her sides. His nails brush against her nipples, making her shiver. He does it again, her body starting to flush in response.

He leans down close to her but her hand in his locks stops him. He stares at her with a question in his eyes.

“No.” She says, tugging on his locks again, his breath fanning over her face in a huff at the motion.

She stands up on the bed, standing over him, and for a moment he wonders if she’s changed her mind, or it wasn’t what she wanted in the first place. But the moment her knee hits his chest, attempting to shove him back onto the bed he understands. Her hand yanks his head back as he grabs her leg, his other hand pushing against her back. She tugs his locks again as he flips her, easily overpowering her in this fight as she winds up on her stomach on the bed.

He’s faster than she is, somehow having removed his loincloth in the time between when she’d hit him and when she’d been flipped. His hand presses between her shoulders, her head turning so she can still breathe. Her pants are yanked down, hips being lifted and rested on something soft. She goes limp as he positions her, taking a moment to make sure she’s comfortable before his hand is between her legs.

She’s already wet, slick and warm against his fingers. A breathy moan leaves her lips as he brushes over her clit, hips jerking slightly to chase his fingers. He purrs deeply, the head of his length replacing his fingers, running it along her slit. Her blatant displays of aggression towards him, along with her hand in his locks, had pushed him over the edge, his length straining against his loincloth painfully until he had released it. He was well versed in doing this quickly, having to tame several females who had fought him for dominance in bed. But she wasn’t a Yautja female. She had given over quickly, and he had made sure to be gentle with her. She had known she wouldn’t win against him, her actions were solely to rile him up.

He’s not as gentle this time, offering her no preparation as he begins to press himself inside her. A low whine leaves her lips at the stretch, her body having forgotten already what it was like. He seemed bigger than before, her body stretching, trying to fit him in.

She’s glad the pillows are holding her hips up, her legs already shaking by the time he’s seated as far as he can go. His own breathing is labored, mandibles flared at the sensation of her tight, wet heat. He begins to move his hips, fighting the resistance of her body as he pumps himself in and out of her. She’s slowly relaxing, hands gripping the blankets on the bed, the most endearing sounds leaving her lips.

He snaps his hips into hers, her body jerking in response. Her eyes roll closed, a high pitched moan leaving her lips. His mandibles click together in a laugh, repeating the action. She tightens around him even more, a deep growl leaving him in response. He picks up speed quickly, thrusting in and out of her hard. He folds his body over hers, hands resting near her head as he mates her the Yautja way. The sound is wet, along with skin slapping skin and their moans and growls.

He leans down, shifting his hips slightly as his mandibles trace along her face, tongue tasting the sweat on her skin. She grips the blankets tighter, squeezing impossibly tight around him, ooman words spilling from her lips before she goes silent for a moment. A long, keening whine leaves her then, eyelashes fluttering. She’s squeezing him, fluttering around him. He growls, hands gripping her hips as he picks up speed even more, thrusting harder and harder into her.

His hips still, head rearing back as he lets out a roar, length pulsing as he releases inside of her. Pleasure tingles through him, traveling along his spine into his stomach and through his length. His little ooman is whimpering at the sensation, legs trembling still from her own release.

He pulls out of her, sitting back and watching as their mixed fluids drip from inside of her. He leans down close to her, letting his tongue run the length of her slit. Her hips jerk in response, her back arching slightly. She’s tangy on his tongue, mixed with his musky flavor. He finds he likes the taste, pressing back in for more.

**********

Chloe can barely leave the bed for a week. She had complained about being bored and having nothing to do, but she hadn’t quite had this in mind when she had said that. Tusk had become relentless, every moment he wasn’t fixing the ship, feeding her, or sleeping he was between her legs. He let her take the lead sometimes, but others he was ruthlessly fucking into her, leaving her with bruises and scratches. She can’t exactly complain, though. For all of their differences, he at least knew how to be a decent lover. She’d lost count of the time she’d cum from him.

But thankfully he seems to be slowing down, spending more and more time fixing the ship, meaning it was close to being done. Perhaps that meant they would be leaving soon. Where they were going to go, however, she hadn’t gotten an answer. Perhaps because Tusk didn’t know either.

She’s also thankful he’s gone more because she’s started to feel sick. She was eating less, none of the foods he brought seeming to be appetizing to her anymore. She had managed to stomach most of them before, but it seemed like she had lost all taste from them. Her mind comes back to the stories she’d read about alien diseases, bacteria and microscopic lifeforms brought back from space destroying humanity. Could she have gotten some sort of space parasite suddenly? Had that been why he’d been so adamant about her staying in the room?

Chloe rests her head on the edge of the toilet seat, or what she calls the toilet seat, wiping some of the sweat from her brow. She’d puked up breakfast again, thankfully Tusk gone from the room so he wouldn’t be worried. She felt fine otherwise, just nauseous and tired.

She washes her hands, splashing water on her face before going back to the room. She’s barely sat on the bed when Tusk comes into the room, leaving the door open for a change.

“Come. We leave now.”

“Now?” Chloe asks, watching Tusk grab the few things they had accumulated during their stay.

“Yes. We go now.”

Before she knows it she’s back on the ship, tucked safely in Tusk’s bed as he takes off. Her stomach lurches as they leave the planet, threatening to bring up the nonexistent food left. She lays there, thinking for a moment when it suddenly hits her. Her stomach drops as the ship rocks as they leave the atmosphere, eyes wide as she calculates the numbers in her head. She didn’t know exactly, but from what she could figure out, it had to be true.

She rises out of bed, making her way from his room towards the control deck. She doesn't get that far, however, Tusk meeting her halfway.

“Yeyinde.” He says, pausing mid-step.

“Tusk, I need to talk to you. I want to know where we’re going.”

“Somewhere safe.” He says, moving past her.

“Tusk, please, tell me.” She turns to him, watching him go with a sigh. “Tarei’hsan.”

He stops at her attempted pronunciation of his real name. He turns slowly to face her, shoulders tensed. She approaches him, staring up at his face through the helmet.

“Tusk, I’m...” She bites her lip. She’s not sure if the word will translate correctly or even have a meaning to him. So instead she grabs his hand, putting it over her stomach. “Pup.”

He stares down at his hand for a long time, her small one covering his where it’s resting over her stomach. He rapidly switches through signatures on his helmet, finding the small zygote resting in her body every time. It’s faint and barely there, but he can see it.

**********

EPILOGUE: 40 years later

Chloe steps out of the hut as the ship lands in the clearing. The other members of their clan, cast outs and loners like them stepping out as well. They had been gone for weeks now, something Chloe had gotten used to after Naugui was born. Tusk had been adamant about raising him the Yautja way. Chloe had no problem with that, after all, Naugui took after his father in every way. An outsider would have questioned whether he was Chloe’s son, but he knew, and so did his parents. Chloe had nearly died birthing him herself, and it was something she would never forget.

She pulls her greying hair back, tying it up from her face as Naugui and Tusk step out of the ship. Tusk had managed to keep himself connected to other Yautja clans without them knowing, secretly spying on them since he left. There had been talk recently, worrying talk. There had been word of an invasion on Earth spreading through some of the clans. Tusk and Naugui had gone to see if it was true.

Chloe can tell by their body language when they approach her what the answer is.

“What do we do?” Chloe asks, wrapping her arms around Naugui.

“We can do nothing,” Tusk says, cupping her face.

“Earth was my home once. To think it could be gone...wiped out...” She chews on her lip, Naugui pulling away from her slightly.

“The armor.” He says, looking to Tusk. “If it can get to Earth...”

“No.” Tusk says. “It’s too risky.”

“They need a chance to defend themselves. Oomans are part of me. If I can give them a chance, I will take it.”

Tusk lets out a breath Chloe understands the meaning of. She turns back to her son, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She knows the risk well. She’d heard first hand the whispers. Being the clan leader’s wife she knew everything he did. If Naugui did this, there was a strong chance he would not be coming back. But that was the Yautja way. It was a risk they took on every hunt. A fear they faced unflinchingly.

“Do your best, son,” Chloe says, cupping his cheek through his helmet.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers for a moment before standing up straight. Chloe watches him walk to the ship, leaning against Tusks’ side, ruminating on the fact this could be the last time she sees her son.

#sacred part 2 #i finally wrote it #yautja #predator #predator x human #yautja x human #preadtor x reader #yautja x reader #preadtor x oc #yautja x oc #violence #space adventures #the ending is a reference #who can get it #well see

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maialeesfineart · 3 years ago

Text

Disappeared Quipu (2018)

23.3.22 This week our lecture was with Chilean artist Cecilia Vicuña. Vicuña is most well-known for her large-scale textile exhibitions, in which she suspends long strips of fabric the ceiling, which drape towards and gather on the floor. She also produces performance, poetry, and her earlier work including paintings of her personal idols (such as Karl Marx, Salvador Allende, Fidel Castro and later Lenin), which is more overtly political than her later work. Her portfolio is incredibly diverse and I could write whole essays about her but I will mostly just be addressing her Quipu/Precario work for the sake of brevity.

La Mulata Costeña de Colombia (ca. 1977)

La Vicuña (1977)

Camilo Torres (1978)

Vicuña’s practice was born of simply listening. The artist says that she simply listens and then is guided down whatever path that it takes her, whether that be a song, a murmur, a drawing. Not borne from thinking, but sensing, attending to that that is surrounding her in what she calls her ‘field of love’. Her practice originated at 17 on a beach in south Chile. The artist became aware of the sensory experience of wind around her waist, and suddenly felt the presence of the sort of cosmic sentience of the nature around her. She was aware because everything around her was, and experienced a sense of awe and reverence. As a result, she began to pick up sticks and plant them vertically into the sand, birthing the start of her ‘Precarios’ art. This means that the art is intentionally delicate, temporary, fleeting. She felt that her work belonged in the natural, sacred landscape, in the mountains, the fields, the rivers.

This deep connection to the landscape has remained consistent throughout her career. The idea of the sacred landscape for the Incas and ancient people of the Andes was erased by the spread of colonial western culture, and her practice works to spread awareness that the sacred landscape is still alive and ‘speaking to us, if we just listen’. Her practice finds its roots in such history and is intensely political. For example, her most well-known work, her Quipu, are based on an ancient cultural tradition of communication. Quipu are recording devices made from knotted string, used in the Andean South American region by the Incas and other such populations. Information is encoded within each knot, turn and twist in the thread so that they can keep records and communicate with one another. Despite the lack of an alphabetic writing system, this simple and highly portable device was remarkably precise and versatile. Built upon this idea was Vicuña’s Quipu, which she made upon her return to Chile, woven from people instead of just string. This was political, an anti-colonial act of rebellion against the western ideas that perpetuate separation, and over time became a method to connect our collective body to water, both figuratively and literally.

Burnt Quipu (2018)

Quipu (AD 1400 - 1532)

The water is a key theme in her artwork. Born by the Mapocho river, she observed Chile becoming a desert as a result of colonisation, through droughts, global warming, and the privatisation of water under the dictatorship. Having performed a number of rituals by this river, and being immersed within this environment, she developed a connection to the water, a sense that what is happening to the water is also happening within her. Through this, her Precarios became an offering for the life force and wellbeing of the water.

Vicuña is my favourite artist we have studied this semester. I was fortunate enough to see Vicuña’s work in the Tate Modern last summer, where her installation of Quipu Womb (The Story of the Red Thread, Athens) was displayed (see below). The work definitely caught my attention – I recall taking many photographs of it, and yet I feel as though I have been missing something until just now. I took in the work in its visual dimension, but not the concept and context behind it, which I believe enriches your understanding of the piece – and the artist themselves – beyond comprehension. Although, in this setting, you observe the artwork with its true scale and impact as the artist intended, I am starting to feel that it is inevitable that a viewer misses out on a huge part of a work when it is viewed as part of a group exhibition without it being truly contextualised.

Quipu Womb (The Story of the Red Thread, Athens) (2017)

It brings to mind a 2013 talk (which I watched recently) given by cultural critic Camille Paglia, in which she criticised the way in which art galleries allow us to interact with the art. To quote: ‘What I’m trying to induce people to realise is that you can have a kind of personal engagement – really what I’m saying is a spiritual engagement – with a work of art. You don’t have to go to the museum; for in fact museums today are becoming more and more like circuses as far as I’m concerned. It’s great that museums are doing so well…. But the atmosphere of the museums is not conducive to contemplation. People you will run into you, they’re on their audio-phones and you feel like you’re in a bar sometimes! For example, Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, which is the most important painting of the 20th century – here it is over a century later, and that painting still has not been absorbed into common culture. People interested in the arts know it, but most mainstream citizens, show that painting to them and they would go “this is crap, my 7 year old could do better, et cetera”…. But again what I’m saying is you don’t have to be going to a museum to have this personal engagement with art – this idea that somehow young people are going to benefit if you take them and pile into a school bus to the museum. “It’s like a great outing for that group,” No! This is between yourself and the great work of art. You can get this in a book... This is going completely against current academic orthodoxy.’ Although I would contest much of Paglia’s ideology, I do think there is a strong element of truth to this. I believe that art galleries are important in seeing a work in three dimensions – you can grasp the scale, materials, texture etc, as the artist intended. Having said this, they should not be the sole way that you engage with a work, unless you are comfortable with missing a great deal of the important background and context that is vital in understanding any artist’s intentions.

My point is that although I was made aware of Vicuña’s work in the past, I did not understand her practice at all, which is a great shame as her work is richly historical, political, cultural and spiritual.

What I will take from this is to make more of an effort to engage more deeply with the art I interact with. I aspire to have a portfolio as wide or compatible to Vicuña’s in the future. I already take my influences from history, religion and spirituality, and I definitely want to delve further into this over time.

Guante / The Glove (1966/1994)

Quipu vivo (2006)

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novantinuum · 4 years ago

Text

Tides of Renewal (SU one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (Mild TW for vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Words: 2500~

Summary: Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Hi folks! This is actually my two-months-late “Happy Birthday, Steven” fic, ahah- amusingly, posted two months late to the day. I’m quite happy with how this short turned out.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Tides of Renewal

Steven rises alongside the sun, but not by choice.

As he abruptly stirs, jerking onto his side under his tangled blanket, he soon realizes that he has little lingering memory of the nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Nevertheless, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hanging in his throat. There’s feelings, faint impressions— someone’s blood (his, or hers?), Connie’s screams, a bubble of terror boiling from within— but that’s all he’s left with. The young man clutches at his sheets, struggling to catch his breath as is the norm most mornings. Dim light sneaks in between the edges of the curtains, offering a rough estimate of the time.

Once it’s clear his chances of sleeping in have become null and void, he entices himself out of bed with the promise of buying himself a muffin at the local coffee shop later today, a birthday treat. His routine is sluggish, but precise. He uses the bathroom, throws on his swim trunks and a thin cotton shirt, downs the pills he forgot to take last night with a quick swig of water, carefully runs his fingers through his long curls to work out the tangles, and slips his feet into the flip flops he always leaves lying right at the foot of his bed.

The young adult only takes his guitar, phone, and keys with him as he walks the mile distance from his humble studio apartment to the public beach. Around him, the world is at peace. The only sound intermingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the Pacific at this hour of the morning is the chattering of puffins that nest on the large rock outcroppings in the tide pools nearby. The edge of his lip quirks up when he finally crosses that sacred boundary— the sidewalk meeting the shore— and removes his sandals, reveling in the satisfying, grainy texture of sand squishing between his toes. Hah... the beach. Funny, that. All his traveling these past years, from mountains, to prairies, to sprawling suburbs to wooded forest towns, and it only succeeded in deepening his childhood love for the familiarity of saltwater air and tourist-filled boardwalks. Still, the secluded, rustic charm of Haystack Cove is a far cry from the Beach City he grew up in. Different people, different sights, different types of seafood sold at the markets. This place feels like a home all his own, appropriately distant from the Gem influenced settlement he’d left behind.

He crosses the fine grained sands towards his favorite sitting spot, a hefty stone jutting out from the ground, its surface buffed to a glossy finish over the years by the high tides. The water’s still distant this early in the morning, glimmers of sunlight sparkling off of the foam and spray. Yawning, he plops himself down on the stone and lifts his guitar into his lap. He strums a few random chords as a warm-up before settling into an experimental melodic sequence.

As he plays, the early morning breeze teases at the ends of his shoulder-length hair, untied and let free in all its curly splendor. It’s still quite chilly, but with the sun peaking over the horizon behind him and not a cloud in sight, the air’s bound to heat up in no time. Steven inhales deeply, soaking in the salt and light and pushing away the shadows lurking at the periphery of his mind, that twitching, exhausting anxiety that never quite seems to leave him alone these days. Unfortunately, functional does not mean carefree. While far fewer in number then when he was a teen, he still runs into plenty of moments where he’s struck blind by particularly painful reminders of his past, his gem snapping into overdrive in an instant. He’s a bit better at coping in these moments now, and walking himself down from panic attacks, but deep-rooted traumas don’t simply melt away. With that in mind, at this point he suspects he’ll likely have to deal with a mixture of therapy and meds for the rest of his life. That’s fine, though. If that’s what it takes to be at peace. He’s thankfully reached a point in his recovery where he’s more than willing to work for it.

Startling him out of his roaming thoughts, his phone chimes to life, touting the same cheery ring tone he had as a kid. He gently sets his guitar down in the sand and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent bet as to who’s calling rising within his mind. Sure enough, his dad’s contact photo proudly greets him. Hah— he called it. Steven stifles a giggle as he hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hey, Schtu-ball!” his father chimes from the other side of the country, three hours ahead. He hears a faint shuffle over the line, and then the beginnings of guitar accompaniment as the man begins to sing:

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Dad ends the line with a resounding vibrato, and a few extra jazzy chords for good measure.

“Heh heh, thanks,” he says, bashfully blushing at the attention, and gazing across the loose sands as if ensuring the secret of his birth hasn’t swelled into a nauseatingly public affair like half of his birthdays had since the start of Era 3. “Gotta say, the impromptu guitar solo pushed that to a whole new level. You just get up?”

“Yep! Bright and early. Garnet said you’d probably be awake by now, so I figured I’d call and give ya’ a good greeting to start the day. Lemme guess, you’re down there at the beach already? I think I heard waves.”

Steven’s glance lifts to admire the slowly rising tides, and the promise of each tomorrow that lies beyond. “Hah, you know me,” he says softly, taking a deep lungful of that precious salt-touched air he’s always adored. “I live for the water. Might force myself to go for a swim later before all of you come. Not sure yet,” he says, shrugging as he turns and squints in the wake of the steadily rising sun. “But my therapist said I should probably keep as active as po—“

“It’s your birthday. You do whatever makes you happy, bud,” his dad promptly reminds him, slight concern sticking to his voice. And yes, it’s practically a father’s job to worry, but his chest tightens with lingering guilt for pressing that upon him anyways. Ugh, this is because he said ‘force myself,’ isn’t it?

“Doing my best to,” he lamely offers, hoping it’ll at least end that segment of conversation. He twirls a stray strand of hair around his finger as he scours his memory for something new to offer. Thankfully, his mind quickly lands on the exciting email he received last night. He grins, knowing for sure his dad’ll love this. “Oh, uh- topic change, but I got that last job I applied for, by the way.”

“Oh? The taffy shop one?”

“Yeah! I start on Tuesday.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s awesome! They responded fast, then.”

“Yup,” Steven nods, popping the ‘p.’ “Honestly, it’s nothing much, just stocking and working the register, but it’ll give me some cash to work with.”

Some cash to finally pay for his own food instead of continuously bumming money off his dad. There’s no way he can handle full month’s rent on his own with this minimum wage job, (who on Earth could in this economy), but it might be enough to cover the smaller things. Groceries, electricity, internet. That sorta stuff. Fidgeting on the edge of the stone outcropping, his bare toes dig narrow lines in the sand. He hasn’t really had this discussion with Dad yet, but the mere concept of being wholly reliant on other people steers his mind uncomfortably close to the I’m a Burden Zone. He’d far prefer to feel like he has a stake in the game.

“I know you said you don’t mind supporting me,” he continues in a hesitant tone, twirling his finger through one of his curls, “but I still feel kinda bad—“

“Don’t. I’d rather you not have to stress yourself to the bone about money like I did when I was your age.”

The line shakes for a second. He’s pretty sure he hears the faint clink of a bowl meeting the counter from his dad’s side.

“Dad...?”

“Sorry, bud. Just putting ya’ on speaker. Figured I’d make myself some instant oatmeal,” he says, his voice sounding a bit further away from the microphone. “Goodness, though. Twenty years. That still boggles the mind.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You’re telling me. Could’ve sworn I was twelve just yesterday. And to be honest, it’s... it’s kinda weird sometimes, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being another year older. ‘Cause... well, uh...”

Steven grits his teeth, searching for the most delicate manner in which he can discuss these emotions. The feelings of his past are a really hard topic to dwell on sometimes, even in therapy, and even though he and his dad have long since had scattered discussions about what a poor mental state he was in then, he doesn’t wanna upset him too much.

“There were definitely days I assumed I wouldn’t have a future, or didn’t want one to begin with,” he continues, throat thick. “Back during all the conflict, before Homeworld reformed. And even after that, when I was... you know. And things are better, now, they’re definitely a lot better. But the idea of a ‘future’... even if I’ve got a job, a home, a girlfriend... it’s still weird to think about, I guess.“

There’s a brief silence on the line as this vulnerable admission sinks in.

“Yeah,” Dad replies eventually, clear sorrow in his voice despite how careful he thought he was in phrasing these matters. “I hear ya’.”

With a quick nervous laugh, he scratches at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing against the thin, wispy strands of hair growing back there. “Geeze, sorry for bringing the mood down so quick. Didn’t even know I had all that on my mind until it spilled right out.”

“No, no! No need for apologies, I’m always here to listen. And in any case, I’m glad you’re in a better place now.”

Steven nods his head to himself in full agreement (momentarily forgetting that his dad isn’t actually here in the flesh to see this response). Sixteen and seventeen really, really weren’t good years for him. And even though he’s put lot of work into himself since then, he can’t help but constantly fear the possibility of relapse. His therapist told him a few sessions ago when he expressed this worry that... relapses into old thinking patterns can be common for people living with C-PSTD, and that it’s important for him to be cognizant of any unusual changes in his patterns and routines so he can quickly intervene with his box of healthy coping tactics, but... geeze. The dark, traumatic destinations his wandering thoughts end up stagnating in when the concept of relapse brushes his mind aren’t fun to acknowledge. It makes him yearn with deafening hunger for a simple switch he could flip, some magic cure-all for his brain that would stop him from having to deal with any of this awful shit in the first place— but of course, cruel universe this can be at times, those don’t exist.

“Speaking of that,” Dad speaks up again after clearing his throat, “how are those new meds treating you? You said last call your doctor was gonna change them, yes?”

“Nah, not change. There’s no need to change types,” he shrugs. “It’s just a dosage shift. And it’s fine, I think. I’ve been on ‘em for a few days, and there’s no problems so far. Brain's been treating me a little better.”

Nightmares aren’t quite as bad.

His energy isn’t totally zapped by noon.

The whirling, panicked trajectory of his thought patterns is a little easier to wrest control of.

All in all, nothing’s perfect, but he certainly feels a good deal more stable than before. Now, if only he can remember to consistently take his meds before he goes to bed like he’s supposed to instead of totally forgetting like he did last night and having to scarf it down when he sees that forsaken capsule in his pill box the next morning. Tsk, tsk.

“That’s real good to hear,” his dad responds to his news.

He flexes his knuckles against his lap, gaze reflexively drifting back towards the welcomed distraction of the tides. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I, uh...”

“So, party logistics,” he cuts in with an overly cheery tone, changing the topic from his boring mental health crap entirely. “We should probably hash this out now. I know Connie’s planning on dropping around about noon. What’s your guys’ plan? She can probably send Lion to you after she gets here, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Pearl said there weren’t any convenient warps nearby. Well, there’s one- but apparently it empties out into an active lava tube. And that’s not exactly Dad-friendly.”

“Aww, you mean you’re not filled with the intense desire to dip your hand into molten lava and shlorp it up like it’s soup?” Steven retorts, only barely holding back his laughter as he thinks of this absurd text thread he had going with Connie a few weeks back, wherein she sent him a video of some volcanic flows and told him, verbatim, that 'despite all logic and reason sometimes I can’t help but look at super viscous lava and think... forbidden s o u p, mmmm.’

“Not particularly, no,” his dad says, sounding thoroughly confused. “I’m- why are you laughing? Is this some sort of weird internet thing I’m not familiar with again?”

He wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “You, ah- you kinda had to be there, sorry. Anyways, yeah. I’ll have Connie send Lion. I’ll text you right before, how’s that?”

“Sounds great! Can’t wait to see ya’, bud. I’m gonna let you go, now, okay? I can talk your ears off later. Go enjoy your morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he says, grinning. “Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Once his dad hangs up he sets his phone beside him on the rock and takes a deep, steady breath, trying to capture the full nuance of each diverse scent in the air. He may just be imagining it, but he swears he’s able to pick out the faint scent of taffy intermingling with the ocean saltiness and the hint of cedar from the nearby state forest. In the end though, whether it’s real or not it’s a welcomed reminder of all the possibility the future holds for him.

He’s twenty now. It’s a brand new decade of life. He’s got a new job lined up, a stable and loving relationship, a supportive family, and plenty of courage in facing the shadows of his past. Sure, so maybe he’ll never know with certainty what will happen— maybe he’ll relapse a little, maybe he’ll still have some bad days sprinkled amongst the good ones— but as he watches the tides flow in to greet him, he smiles... and resolves to just take this year as a renewal of his vow to care for himself as best he can.

#su #su future #steven universe #greg universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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kkpaaw · 4 years ago

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Seashell Trolls

This is gonna be a. long post so be prepared.

First let me start off with the general. These guys came to my mind randomly yesterday and I just had to make them. So i did. I spent pretty much all day today working on these guys and whole they may look wierd, I love them and am really proud of how they look

So why make a sea based Troll species? Simple. It's because we have literally only one. The Techno Trolls. The ocean is vast and there are so many creatures to base Trolls off of in the ocean so I figured why not make a sea Troll species? We have a bunch of land trolls so let's add onto the sea ones ok? I know these guys may not look like trolls to some of yall but considering that this is basically an AU I'm not worried about that lmao

Anyway lemme stop rambling and introduce yall to the Seashell Trolls!

First thing I wanna show yall is this sheet I made

This basically goes over the important aspects of their anatomy and what makes them seashell trolls

ANATOMY

• Fisrt thing to note is that these guys are small. In fact they actually match Smidge in terms of height(and we all know how small Smidge is)

• Unlike smidge though(who has her strength and hair to make up for her small stature) Seashell Trolls have none of that. They are a pretty weak species and their shells, depending on the size, only add a little bit of height

• Speaking of shells, notice how the center focus Shell Troll has a small shell while the ones at the bottom have bigger ones? That's because there isn't just one size for shells not just one kind either, they can be any kind and any shape.

• Another thing to note is that they aren't actually born with the shells, Shellings(baby Seashell Trolls) seek them out when they hatch, like an instinct sort of thing.

• Because of this, in order to help the Shellings get a shell without going too far from safety. They have an area in their home that specifically has millions of Unused/Unclaimed shells that their parents can take their Shelling to claim a shell.

• Picking a shell isn't just some random thing for Seashell Trolls. It's a sacred one time thing as Shelling's only pick shells they feel bonds with, meaning that their shells mean a lot to them and they don't just swap out or get rid of the shells. They stick with them for life

• Another things to note is the antennae on the Seashell Trolls. They have two different types of Antennas, Prickly/Fuzzy and Coral.

BIOLOGY

• Jumping right to it they can spit water at others(think of a blowhole from a whale or a dolphin but with their mouths) it's not all that powerful it's mostly used as a way to distract a predator or just have fun

• Despite being very small, they are surprisingly fast and can be very tricky to catch if they aren't caught off guard

• They also are amazing trackers, as they can sense the heat trail that living beating emitting and therefore can track others long after they have dissapeared. They also often find all types of valuable items

• Seashell Trolls tend to come in all sorts of crazy colors with many having multiple colors on their bodies as shown below.

• In contrast their shells are usually dull in color. This helps them to blend into the sand if they need too.

• Bonding is something that Seashell trolls take seriously. You don't bond with someone(s) unless you plan to stay mates for life

• When a seashell troll is courting someone(s) they will usually start the courting process by breaking off a piece of their shell and giving it to their person of courting, usually by making a piece of jewelry with it. This is a sign that the troll is serious in their courtship as said above, Seashell trolls value their shells and never separate from them once chosen as a Shelling

• Seashell Trolls can mate with anyone of any gender, but in order to have a kid they would need a mate(or mates)

HOME AND GOVERNMENT

• Seashell Trolls live in groups all throughout the ocean(like shells) the biggest group(and the one I'm focusing on for any future drawings of this species) resides in a small underwater rocky coral reef close to the first level of the seafloor as they like to remain close to the sand incase they need to dig under it to protect themselves

• Due to being such a weak and small species, they actually heavily reli on bigger creatures(like crabs or lobsters) to offer protection from others predators(the kicker is that crabs and lobsters are common predators for them so they are basically seeking help from one of their predators)

• This has created a very unbalanced system for them however, as their protectors often require they work for them and do almost impossible tasks in the threat that if they don't, they won't offer their protection anymore

• This particular group is under the rule of Queen Urbosa, a large Lobster who has offered her protection in return that the Seashell trolls do whatever she says, in which they agreed.

• She's not a good one and often abuses the absolute hell out of her power which ends up going bad for the Seashell Trolls

• She's actually forbid them from singing and dancing outloud unless they are performing for her so if they want to sing they have to be quiet or be secret about it

MUSIC

• Please don't kill me, but I'm making their music genre Nightcore

I KNOW I KNOW, Nightcore isn't an actual official Genre because of the fact that it basically takes pre-existing music and just makes it high pitch and sped up, I'm well aware. However, it still is under EDM like Techno and since I imagine Shell Trolls having high pitched voices(with the exception of a rare few) it works for me

_____

ALRIGHTY

You still here? If so great! You've reached the end!

I truly hope you guys like them because I worked really hard on them and I'm super proud of how they came out(heck even if u don't I'm still happy with em). Do, very much do, expect to see more from the Seashell Trolls as I will be expanding on their universe and introduce you to some characters I'll be mainly focusing on (hint hint you've already seen them)

Bye bye for now!

#trolls 2 #dreamworks trolls #trolls world tour #kkpaaw #my art #trolls oc #trolls dreamworks #Seashell Trolls #i worked very hard on this #i worked too long on this #They are in the same universe as Bayou and Ehani #So they may meet them eventually along with the Techno(and possibly the other) Trolls

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colorfullfalls · 5 years ago

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Adore you

Summary: Sam and Emily finally get to their wedding day. The outside venue is beautiful and everything is in order except for the fact that Embry and you are fighting.

La Push, ah. What a wonderful- dare say mystical place to be. Waves roared violently against the beach, crashing roughly into the minuscule pieces of sand. Rain pelted among the ground, mixing with ocean, grass, sand, skin, and materials. Clothes stuck to russet toned flesh, sticking like a temporary tattoo for a child.

Panting hard, Embry Call's hands reached up his hands to pushed back Y/N's hair away from her neck, peeling the thick mop away to rest on the other side. Her eyes refused to meet his, wavering to look at the waves. She wished she was anywhere on Earth but in front of him. The way he looked at her hurt. His face held the upmost gaze of betrayal, beautiful brown orbs burning you from the inside out.

Behind her ear held the mark that would cause wretching heartache. A dainty black tattoo rested, rooting anger between the two. Tattoos were meant to be meant to have a deep meaning, and her's did. It was a sail boat. A symbol for the sea. Vast area of the unknown that humans did not get the privledge of ruining. Getting their hands and tainting the beauty it beheld. Embry did not mind her logic behind it, nor did he dislike her love for the sea. But the tattoo. He hated it. Disgust curled in his stomach, gripping his ribs like quicksand and pulling. He wanted to scream.

"You lied."

His words came off venomously. A snake's bite. Harsh syllables announciated with distrust. And pain. Mostly pain. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling. Crying would not solve the issue that was present because you betrayed him. Broke his heart a bit when you swore to guard it and protect the beautiful organ.

"I'm sorry, Embry. It was impulsive-"

He cut you off by shriveling back by your words. A cold laugh escaped his lips, "Damn right it was impulsive. Must've been if you couldn't have talked to me about it."

Fighting over a tattoo seemed dumb. But not in this situation. Embry was not mad that you got a tattoo. It was that the sailboat was your first tattoo. Years ago you promised Embry at the ripe age of 13 that you two would get your first one together. You a small sun and him a small moon. Both on your hips so that it would be a private thing. The ultimate proclamation of love. It was obvious as kids that you two were meant to be, even before you were his imprint. You were raised as best friends. Learned together. Aged together. Grew as individuals together. When the promise was made and 13 you had not yet been lovers, but it was a promise as two beings connected molecularly as best friends.

Even dating you two were still best friends. No one understood you like Embry, and no one ever would. His corny jokes made you laugh so hard that snorts would skip out of your nose. His hugs melted you to the bones. He made you feel complete. Best friends turned lovers, but best friends still for eternity.

"I didn't tell you to avoid this! I knew a fight would ensue." You cried out helplessly, feeling incredibly guilty but defensive at the same time.

"Why do it then? Or maybe consider taking to me about it, telling me at the least. You hid this for, well, it has to have been a while. Clearly healed." He deadpanned, pointing to it like it cut his foot off.

"It's been three weeks, Em."

His eyes lit up in realization, "You wouldn't have sex with me in the daylight. I figured it was just odd timing but no. Just blatantly lying to me to cover this up."

Tears welled in your eyes at how removed your gentle boyfriend was. You didn't recognize the person in front of you. Not that you didn't fully deserve it, but it still stung to see the love of your life so repulsed by your actions. Your female best friend convinced you to get one with her when her long time girlfriend broke her heart. She said she needed it to heal. And you. Against your better judgement, your ass was in a leather chair while a needle plunged relentlessly into your skin. You loved her and wanted to be there for her. Your mind was foggy when it happened due to a few drinks in you too.

Your best friend knew that you and Em talked about getting tattoos together, but she didn't know it was such a sacred vowel or else she never would have helped you break it. She got an eye that had a ring around it like a planet on her forearm. She was an artist and drew it up herself. It meant a lot to her. You loved her, but now you were paying for the actions.

"Y/bff/n made you get this?"

"What?! No! Of course not. I willingly did it, but a few drinks were in me. Which doesn't excuse it, but she got one too. Not like marching or anything..."

Embry stared.

You scrambled to get in as much as you could without interruption, "Wholeheartedly my heart is pounding with guilt that I broke our pact to get our first tattoo together. But to be fair you already have yours."

Embry shook his head in disbelief, "Are you fucking me right now? It wasn't my choice to get this. It's membership into the pack, Y/N. My culture."

You sighed, "I know that Embry, and I'm not trying to disrespect that. I love you and the pack. I love your culture. Undoubtedly it's your first tattoo though. We can get our second together."

You tried to grab his hand but he pulled it away, searing a burn mark right into your heart. Rain pelted down even harder. What had been a nice beach date went to hell when Embry went to move your hair back to kiss your neck when he saw it. Usually you could dodge his attempts to get close to there, but you were so blissed out by his intoxicating kisses that your mind wasn't all there. Ironically the weather went to shit as soon as fighting began.

"Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt you." What you failed to notice earlier was that his hands were shaking. Typically you could caress his bicep or face and he would melt into you. Today the same touches would have the opposite effect. No matter how angry he was, he was terrified to harm you. Any wound inflicted by him would drive him crazy. He loved you. Forever. Even when he was furious he was cautious to keep you safe. This only made you feel worse.

"I think I rather have you physically hurt me than you be angry with me." You mumbled, sniffling at how bad you just wanted to touch him.

He snarled. His veins bulged as he pointed at you, "Shut up! How dare you wish for something like that?"

"I don't wish for that. I'm just saying us fighting is unbearable!"

"You just said you rather me hurt you physically! You want scars like Emily? You want me to be in withering pain and agony as you bleed on the floor?!" He bellowed, shaking even worse.

You let out a sob at his words. This all escalated too quickly. His eyes softened momentarily at your cry but his anger got the best of him as he reminded himself why you were crying. He scrambled to throw his clothes off. His body contorted until his grey wolf stood tall in front of you.

It whimpered, but turned and booked it for the woods. Leaving you alone with his clothes, the rain, guilt, heartache, and the beach. You slid down to your knees, clutching his shirt to your chest.

Emily's wedding was tomorrow. She would look gorgeous in her wedding dress, smile beaming with every step down the aisle towards her wolf. Laughs, happy tears, and hugs would be shared between the wedding and reception. Of course dancing would be a necessity. You were unsure if you were going to be involved in their experience anymore. The pack loved you. You were one of them. But with Embry so upset and not knowing when you two would makeup, maybe it was for the best if you stayed home.

Half an hour later you were still on the beach crying. Jacob ran next to you, scooping you up in his strong arms. You snuggled into his warmth, wishing that it was Embry instead. After everything you still wanted him to be with you. Jacob took you home and helped you dry off before leading you into the shower to encourage you to take a hot shower. If you got sick Embry wouldn't be happy with his packmate.

He sat in the livingroom as you got dressed in the bathroom. You sheepishly walked out, embarrassed of the state he had found you in. His large frame took up the lounge chair. Two cups of hot tea sat on the coffee table.

"For me?" You asked, gesturing to the cup. He picked one up and handed it to you before taking his own. It felt good going down your throat. Warm and reassuring.

"Embry should not have phased like that. He feels like an ass for losing control like that." Jake began.

"He had enough control to strip first. I wasn't in danger." You assured.

Jake nodded, "I saw the whole fight go down. I was on patrol."

You laughed sadly. Poor Jacob had to relive Embry's anger and pain through the shared pack bond. He seemed to not be effected by it. You wondered how Embry was doing now. Texting him seemed like a bad idea. Especially with how things were left.

"It was an ugly fight. Worst one to date. His eyes held repulsion, Jake. Like he could barely look at me. This tattoo is giving me hell."

Jake sighed, motioning for you to come sit next to him. You squeezed into the chair with him, resting on his lap. Jake was like your brother that would help you through anything. His warm hand rubbed your back lightly to assure you that he was there. He would always be there.

"Life is weird and there's a lot that I don't know. What I do know is that if anyone is meant to be together, it's you two. Bonded and meant to be before he even shifted. Imprints are strong but you two are even more. This fight is a pebble that will chip away, I promise."

"Thanks but I don't know. He looked crushed. Phasing like that.. showing up to the wedding tomorrow might not be good. I'm not going."

Jake recoiled, "What? Of course you have to attend! Emily wants you there. Screw Embry. Tomorrow is about Sam and Emily and they certainly need you there. You're family."

"Don't say screw him." You mumbled. Feeling defensive was part of the bond, "I will think about it."

Jake ignored you scolding him because he understood the loyalty you felt for Embry. He felt the same exact way towards Reneesme. Rough times caused fighting like any other couple, but the bond required unconditional love and affection. Some portrayed it as toxic, but you didn't. Relationships typically didn't happen like this but you couldn't stay mad at Embry while growing up. It was an impossible defeat.

"You're a bridesmaid, not going would be terrible. Embry wants you there whether he admits it right now or not. I'll come pick you up, make sure you go."

You sighed, nodding. Lack of your presence would only cause a bigger rift between you two. On top of that, Emily would be crushed and that would make Sam frustrated towards you too. And that would lead to arguing between Sam and Embry because another wolf cannot be rude to an imprint. You helped plan this wedding and you deserved to be there. Jake was giving you big puppy dog eyes. Begging like Embry did. Begging that you could not deny.

"Fine."

Jake stood up, "I will see your pretty face tomorrow."

***

Hours later you laid in bed. Ceiling fan high blast cooling the room. Goosebumps danced across your skin, chilling you more than it should. Embry's warm embrace should've sheltered you from the breeze, making the ceiling fan actually necessary compared to his radiating heat. He wasn't with you tonight. You were alone. Restless. Where did he go if he didn't come home to you? Was he on Jared's couch? Sharing Quil's bed like he did when they were kids? Back home with his mom?

Phone screen said 2:41. Four hours after you laid down. Sleep was battling you, heart beating too fast with each memory of the argument. His hurt tone rang through your ears. Past text messages assured you that things would get better between you two. His corny jokes and memes made joy fill you.

This fight was dumb.

Your thumbs typed out all the words you wanted to say and you were about to send it you saw three dots meaning that he was typing too. He was reaching out too! The three dots dissapeared with a lack of text. Mood officially dampened. Who knew texting could be an emotional roller coaster.

Hours later your ass was seated in an uncomfortable chair while your hair was being done. Makeup had been applied an hour ago and you already wanted it off. Your upset hands liked to rest on your face and makeup didn't allow that. Emily and the other girls were chirpy. Gorgeous teeth on show from beaming. You did your best to match their mood. Key word, tried.

"Okay, you're hair is done. Go get in your dress!" Emily cooed, hands on either side of your shoulder. You offered a smile.

Putting on the dress took help from Leah. She was in a sour mood. Her first love getting married to her cousin and all. It was reasonable and truly expected. She may be a shape shifter, but human she still was. Her warm hands zipped up the back of the dress. Leah sensed your bad vibe like second nature.

"Go find Embry, makeout for a minute and get over with whatever the hell this is. It's ridiculous. You two are disgustingly in love. Fix it because it's dragging us all down." Her words were honest. Leah was always honest. Basically in her DNA.

You snorted, "We are not making out here. Im sorry that this is impacting you guys too, but this is not getting dealt with today. Emily and Sam are getting married."

"Won't be perfect if our favorite couple is on the outs."

"Favorite couple?" You questioned.

She nodded as if her sentence was as obvious as stating that the vast sky was blue. You rolled your eyes and moved the bottom of the dress so that it was in place. The light pink silk dress suited you. It suited all of the bridesmaids. Nice dress. Emily had great taste. Speaking of the devil, Emily walked around the corner. Her brown eyes widened at the sight of you and Leah. As if it wasnt her wedding day. As if she wasn't the most stunning looking woman for the day.

"Gorgeous! Oh my goodness, you both look amazing. Thank you for sharing this day with me," her eyes shifted to her Leah, "Especially you, Leah. I know I don't deserve your support considering what happened on your wedding day, but it means the world to me that you are here."

"Yep." Leah gave a tight smile. Emily's face fell at the lack of words from her cousin. You sighed and nudged Leah. She rolled her eyes but tried, "This isn't easy but I'm doing it. For you."

Emily closed the distance between them and pulled her cousin in for a hug. Tension resides and still would for a while, but the bond was slowly mending. Cousin like sisters trying to reconnect. It was hard when Leah was the one who lost everything and Emily gained what she had. Leah still did have one thing. Seth. And you. Seth was her brother and best friend. He always had her back. But you did too. Days after Embry introduced you to the pack you befriended her.

You felt intrusive of the moment so you walked out into the hall. A few doors down led to the outside. Some fresh air would be lovely. Sunshine fluttered through the glass door when you arrived. Glancing outside you halted.

Embry.

Black material covered his toned body, rose sitting perfectly on his left peck. His brown floppy hair was styled perfectly. Your fingers longed to run through the thick locks. You should've been the one to help him do his hair rather than peaking at him behind a door like a child that is supposed to be in time out. He was standing with Jake and Quil. His two friends were laughing as Embry leaned against the wall. Not laughing. Although his face didn't look miserable like yours did.

Jake's eye caught yours and you froze, terrified of what would happen next. Talking to Embry in front of them would most likely cause more issues. You knew Jake would side with you and Quil would side with Embry. Quil was forever Embry's best friend. Jake could see past that.

"There's Y/N." Jake spoke. Embry leaned off the wall and looked around for you. And there you were. Looking gorgeous as ever on the other side of the door. His face faltered into vulnerability as he realized how sad you looked. He did that. He made you sad. Before he could do anything you walked away. He grunted in annoyance, hitting the brick wall behind him.

"Fuck!"

Line up for walking down the isle was what you dreaded because obviously Embry was your match. Room silent as you grudgingly came to stand beside him. His eyes scanned over your beautiful face in sorrow. You busied yourself by picking at your nails. A tick that you did when you avoided confrontation.

Walking down the isle, an arm intertwined in his was mandatory. You did it. Sparks flew up your arm at touching him after so long. His warm skin blazed against yours pleasantly. During the wedding Embry kept stealing glances at you. You noticed and held his gaze when you could.

Sam and Emily's vowels were beautiful. Raw and true words about their unconditional love. Hell Emily has scars on her face from his anger and they got past that. Certainly you could get over Embry shifting yesterday. He did look incredibly handsome across from you.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The crowd cheered as Sam and Emily kissed. He dipped her back like a princess and the cheers only got louder. Kim nudged your shoulder and you two shared a smile when they road off to the reception hall in their decorated car.

You contemplated how you would get to the reception yourself. You arrived with Jake but your body was buzzing with anticipation to touch your boyfriend. Fighting seemed pointless. Today was about love. And you loved eachother. This tattoo was permanent but so were you guys.

Embry was leaning against his truck when your knuckles tapped on the door. He jumped at the surprise but he calmed down when he saw it was you. Looking beautiful as ever. Your hair blew in the wind, giving him a nervous smile.

"You look gorgeous, baby." He lowly said, gesturing to you.

You blushed, "Thanks. Not so shabby yourself, mister."

"I love you." He blurted, "I love you so much. I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm especially fucking sorry for phasing."

Your eyes watered as you walked straight into his blazing embrace. He scrambled to pull you as close as possible. Your hands clutched the fabric of his tux as his hands gently rubbed up and down your back. Your mind was flooding with euphoria at how close he was to you. Intoxicating. You hadn't been this far away from Embry for so long since you were fifteen.

"I'm sorry for my tattoo. It was shitty of me not to talk to you about it."

"I was just hurt that you got one without me. I wanted your first tattoo to be shared with me. It was selfish. You may be my imprint, but it's still your body." He confessed.

You pulled away so that you could look up at him, "Yes. My body is mine. But my soul is undoubtedly mixed with yours, belongs to you. Getting a tattoo doesn't make that any less."

An infectious smile broke out on his face. His hands cupped your face as he brought you closer, noses rubbing affectionately. His hand moved to your chain to raise it up, lips slotting quickly against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a moan. You pulled back when you heard someone behind you two.

Jake stood there with a shit eating grin, "Was gonna ask if you needed a ride but you two clearly made up."

"Shut up dude." Embry groaned, pressing a few kisses to your cheek, "I missed her."

"Yeah, as if the whole pack didn't know that. See you guys at the reception." Jake retorted.

"See ya Jake!" You called out.

"Think we can manage a quickie before the reception?" Embry asked, hands dangerously roaming your body as he lifted you into the truck. You laughed as you were put on your back in the backseat. Your head lifted to see that no other cars were in the parking lot. You hummed as he shut the door and climbed on top of you. His hands pushed the dress off from your shoulders, head dipping down to appreciate what was his.

"This is a church parking lot." You teased as his tongue ran along your collar bone, hot saliva trailing behind. You grabbed his head and pulled it back up so that he could look at you.

"Yeah and? Everything about you is holy."

You snorted, pulling him down for another kiss. His warm hands slipped under your dress and grabbed your thighs, soft flesh melting against his. He pulled your hips up closer to him, grinding into you. You moaned at how his body moved against yours, two bodys and basically one soul. His lips moved to press hot kisses to your neck until they sucked on your tattoo.

"I think I actually like this spotch of ink." He murmured, running his tongue over it as he bunched up your dress to rest around your torso.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It's hot."

Twenty minutes later you two walked into the reception hall hand in hand. Embry was especially lovey after the ten minutes spent in his truck. You both made sure that no evidence of your quickie was present. Emily and Sam were sharing their first dance in the middle of the dance floor. You led him to your table where Jake, Quil, Jared, Kim, Paul, and Rachel sat. Seth and Leah sat with Sue and Charlie a table over.

"Hot make up sex?" Paul teased as Embry pulled your chair out for you.

You shook your head at his blunt question. It wasn't like your sex life was a secret. Embry could not keep those thoughts to himself when he was shifted. Actually none of the boys could. It was how it went. Over time you got used to it. It wasn't Embry's fault.

"The best." Embry said intertwining your hands, "But not that that's any of your concern."

Paul raised his hands in surrender. The hothead knew better than to overstep and disrespect a fellow wolf and imprint. That would lead to a fight and Sam would murder them.

"Don't listen to Paul. We're glad that you two fixed things." Kim sweetly said. Her eyes were always so wide and kind.

"Yeah, bunch'a miserable kids in love. Embry was mopey all morning." Jared added.

Embry rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing affectionately across the top of your soft hand, "Beg to differ.."

"Oh wanna bet, Call?! You leaned against walls and didn't talk. Like uh," Paul snapped his fingers as he tried to think of the word, "like a mute."

"Love you man, but he's right." Quil spoke. Embry snapped his head to glare at his best friend. In return Quil sheepishly shrugged and sipped his water.

Embry then shifted towards you again, "Do you think any other wolf packs are around that I can join?"

You laughed at his deadpanned tone and lightly slapped his bicep, "You love them and you know it, bub."

"Yeah, bub." Rachel teased, a beautiful smile gracing her lips. Paul smirked with a profound proud feeling bubbling in his chest as he listened to his imprint.

Sam and Emily's dance ended and the dance floor was opened up. Embry took this chance to escape the ragging from his friends to share a slow dance with you instead. His hands rested on the curve of your back while yours intertwined around his neck. His face bend down to be close to yours.

"So I was thinking about our tattoos..." Embry started.

You cocked a curious eyebrow, "Oh? And what conclusion did you arrive at?"

"Let's get them tomorrow. Quil knows a guy who does some wicked cool ones and I just know he will make them exactly how we want. And why wait? Why did we not do it a year a or two ago?" He rambled, twirling you around and bringing you back into his arms.

"No clue why we waited. But.. I am so down for tomorrow. Sooner the better."

He hummed happily, "Great. Tomorrow it is."

Harry Style's Adore You came on and you grinned, "You may be an ass at times Embry Call, but I adore you."

"Thank you baby, but hey." You looked into his loving brown eyes and waited for him to go on, "I'd walk through fire for you."

Song lyrics or not, Embry Call would legit do anything for you, "Just let me adore you." You responded.

He leant down to peck your lips, "That's the only thing I'd ever do."

#twilight imagine #embry call #embry call imagine

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hadeschan · 1 month ago

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item # K23A55

RARE Pra Pong Roop Muan Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh, Wat Rakhang. An amulet with figure of Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh in his meditation saying mantra and counting rosary. Made from mainly holy powder blended with Pong Viset Ha Pragaan (5 kinds of holy powder) of Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh, and powder and fragments crushed from broken Pra Somdej Wat Rakhang amulets made by Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh blended with holy water and tabby made from seashells. Made by Luang Phu Nak, the 9th ex-abbot of Wat Rakhang Kositaram, Bangkok in BE 2495 (CE 1952).

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In Thai Buddhist traditions the beads are called “Prà-kam”. It consists of 108 beads that represent

the 108 human passions or sins that must be overcome in order to reach enlightenment.

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BEST FOR: Toh in Thai means huge / enormous / grow / developed / important person ; influential person and to be the boss, to be on top, to be the top man. Má-laeng wan mai dai gin lêuuat in Thai means flies never land on your blood which refers to one who wears amulet made by Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh his/her drops of blood will never be falling to the ground.“You will NEVER die screaming” Thai people believe that “One will never die screaming and one will die without any suffering at end of life if one is wearing an amulet made by Somdej Pra Buddhachan Toh.” This amulet brings endless food with wealth & prosperity. Anything you wish for, and it could change your life for the better, Klawklad Plodpai (it brings safety, and pushes you away from all danger), Kongkraphan (it makes you invulnerable to all weapon attack), Maha-ut (it stops gun from shooting at you), Nang Nieow, a rock-hard skin that is completely impervious to damage with bludgeoning or piercing weapons. Metta Maha Niyom (it helps bring loving, caring, and kindness, and compassion from people all around you to you), Maha Larp (it brings Lucky Wealth / wealth fetching), and Kaa Kaai Dee (it helps tempt your customers to buy whatever you are selling, and it helps attract new customers and then keep them coming back. Ponggan Poot-pee pee-saat Kunsai Mondam Sa-niat jan-rai Sat Meepit (it helps ward off evil spirit, demon, bad ghost, bad omen, bad spell, curse, accursedness, black magic, misfortune, doom, and poisonous animals). And this amulet helps protect you from manipulators, backstabbers, and toxic people.