#Spirit glade

[yeowninefive]

Woe Betide Deu

A fish out of water tries to tell some jokes. The Green Glade Spirit (Panel 1, above) and Glo (Panel 4, right) belong to Fernal-Red, from their webcomic Cheesecake Odyssey.

[hollow-knight-fights]

Hollow Knight Fight Round 2, Wave 2

Submit your propaganda here or in the tags/comments/reblogs!

Like what I'm doing? Give me a coffee!

[sakuramoussy]

This old fossil pops off sometimes here on tumblr and I've been replaying Hollow Knight lately, so here's a redraw (sort of? the topic is a little different on this one) of my old drawing of the Seer for 'The Spirit's Glade', this one is moreso focused on the Dream Nail and not on the Spirit's Glade.

[snailpreacher]

Hk art I haven’t posted, most are from spirits glade

[chloejenkinsillustration]

A little guy :)

This is a greyscale painting that was colored digitally! Here's how it looked before all the digital stuff was added:

[watermelon-mafia]

WHERE is that one hollow knight post with gifs of places where the knight's walking animation plays instead of the running animation i have a place to add to the list

[ceffarts]

Day 8- Molten

[yolothh]

Viktor really meant the "in all timelines, in all possibilities" line BECAUSE IT'S OUR TIMELINE TOO! THEY EXISTED!

Please take a moment and let me introduce you to: Giacomo Leopardi and Antonio Ranieri's partnership.

Leopardi was an italian poet, author, philosopher and philologist. He is an important figure in Romantic literature (albeit, he did criticize the Romantic worldviews).

All throughout his life he suffered from a debilitating chronic illness (juvanile ankylosing spondylitis) that had him suffer horrendously from a young age, until it eventually took his life in 1837, when he was 39 years old.

He dedicated most of his life to studies, translating old tomes, writing poems and treaties diverting on humanity's degeneration from our glorious past to our suffering present. He exhorted modern folks to take action against the unjust present, aiming to a revolution of our pitiful condition.

In 1827 Leopardi meets Antonio Ranieri a young man that is described (verbatim) as a "very young and handsome in person and spirit".

Ranieri had been exiled from his city during his youth, because of his excessively liberal views in regards to politics.

The two become very close friends, but it's in 1830 that their "partnership" (literally, not making this up, Ranieri himself wrote a book about it if you care to check it out "Seven years of partnership with Giacomo Leopardi") starts. They move together from Firenze to Naples and Ranieri attends to Leopardi's every wish (noted that this man was a fanatic for sweets) paying with money from his own pocket.

Now, friendship at the time was different than what it is now, and they might’ve been very close friends, yes. But I'll give you some words from their letters and what Ranieri wrote down in his book and leave it to your judgment.

-----------------------------------------------------

Ranieri, Naples, 1833:

"I- left my own bed- used to sleep in a room that was not mine (scandalous at the time) to sleep by his side"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, from when they got separated because Ranieri needed to tend to some family issues:

"My Ranieri, you will never abandon my side, nor will your love for me grow colder. I don't wish for you to sacrifice yourself for me. In fact, before anything else, I strongly wish for you to take care of yourself first: whatever you choose to do, you will do it so because we live for one another, or I know that I do for you; my last and only hope. Farewell, my soul. I keep you close to my heart, which in both possible and impossible occurrences, will forever be yours"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, on someone making a joke out of Ranieri for staying by Leopardi's side:

" [...] Oh, my Ranieri! When will I get you back? I won't stop trambling until I'll recover this immeasurable love, until I know it's true. Farewell, my soul, with all my spirit's strength. Don't get bored of loving me"

And more:

"Ranieri of mine, I need not say that in every way you wish, I will be there with you (...). My resolution has been so for a great time now: that I will never be parted from you. Farewell"

In 1833, Ranieri sends a letter where he says he intends to set off to get Leopardi and go live together in Naples, to which Leopardi answers:

"My Ranieri, will this [letter] reach you in Naples still? I must warn you, I cannot live without you no longer, I'm overtaken by a morbid impatience to see you again, and that I am sure that if you will be late, I will die from the malencholy of not having you still. Farewell, Farewell"

Ranieri, on the landlady that took them in in Naples:

"She revealed this: that I had introduced a consumptive in the house: that, loving him so much as to stay up at night by his side, there could be no reason I could not do that as well in mine own house"

--

So now, take it as you will- because maybe I am way too much of a nerd about this stuff- but I can't read ANYTHING Leopardi and Ranieri related without seeing Viktor and Jayce. I will gladely add more in the future.

--

Addition! If you want to watch/read on them (but mostly Leopardi, which is a catch) I STRONGLY advice you:

Leopardi. Il poeta dell'infinito - I don't personally love it but if you want more on them, thats the place

Il giovane favoloso - AMAZING movie

Canti - by Leopardi, it is a collection of poems he wrote and I think it is absolutely useful to understand his marvelous mind and character

Sette anni di Sodalizio con Giacomo Leopardi - the one I mentioned before, written by Ranieri on his time with Leopardi

[hanniebaeee]

Lil' Lix - Christmas Love

Pixie Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: Nothing other than lots of fluffy flufff!

Genre: fantasy au!, established relationship, FLUFFFF!

Summary: Winter is here, and it's also Felix's first Christmas with you!

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

a/n: I don't know if I've ever written such a fluffy thing ever 😅 Pixie Felix is a weakness, and this one is very close to my heart... Enjoy!!

Part 1

For someone who once lived in a magical, sunlit glade, winter in a concrete jungle was literally a nightmare for Felix, your pixie lover. He was currently swaddled in a cocoon of blankets, being dramatic as hell.

His cute freckled nose peeked out as he glanced at you, giving a pitiful sniffle.

"Y/N," Felix whined, his voice muffled. "This is it. When I’m gone, will you cry pretty tears for me? Will you make a little shrine to honor our love?”

“Babe, you’re not dying.” You said with a grin. “You’re just melodramatic.”

“No, I’m serious,” he insisted, glaring at you with the last shred of his dignity. “The frost has claimed me. This winter will be my end.”

You sighed, brushing a strand of his golden hair back. He was up in a second, his shimmery wings fluttering as he moved to nestled into your neck. He rubbed his face against your warm skin and you flinched as his cold nose grazed you.

"Felix!"

"You’re so warm," he murmured, his lips brushing against you. "Did you eat a fire crystal as a child? Are you secretly a fire spirit?!"

"No, I’m just not tiny, Lixie," you said, nudging him gently.

Felix huffed, crossing his arms, mumbling, “Lucky you.”

---

Though you joked about this, you knew Felix was genuinely struggling with the cold, and every night his icy little hands and feet snuggled against you, making you jump with the chills.

You had to come up with something (no Barbie clothes didn't help, thank you), so that his threats of “using the last of his magic to ignite himself” could be taken off the scene.

That’s when you had a brilliant idea - knit him some clothes.

You pulled up a beginner’s YouTube tutorial, grabbed some yarn, and got to work. It wasn’t pretty. The first few attempts were disastrous. But then, things got better. You couldn't help but squeal in delight, because it was just that cute!

Felix, perched on a spool of yarn, watched your progress with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking at the long needles in your hands with suspicion.

“Making you clothes,” you said, focused on a particularly tricky stitch.

“Wait, you can make clothes?” He tilted his head, a strand of golden hair falling into his freckled face. “Like, you don’t just summon them or something?”

“Baby, have you seen me summon anything?”

Felix tapped his chin. “You've got a point. Carry on, my love.”

---

After a few days of hard work, you held up your creations: tiny sweaters, hats, mittens, socks, and even a scarf. They weren’t perfect - one mitten was slightly bigger than the other, and the beanie did look a little weird - but they were warm and made with love.

“Y/N, these are… these are…” Felix’s voice cracked, and he placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “Is this what love feels like?”

“Come here, you drama queen. Let’s try these on.” You laughed, holding up a sweater.

He hovered in front of you, wings fluttering as you slid the sweater over his head (you even made slits for his wings). The snug fabric hugged his tiny frame, and his freckled cheeks glowed pink as you tugged the beanie into place.

“Well?” you asked, sitting back to admire your work.

Felix spun in the air, his hands running over the soft yarn.

“I love it! I love it!! It's so warm!!” Felix sang in happiness. “I'm not cold anymore!!”

“You look like a cozy little marshmallow, Lixie” you teased, and he grinned brightly before flying straight into your face and cupping your cheeks with his tiny hands.

“You did all this for me? Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.” he said gazing into your eyes lovingly.

“Anything for you, baby,” you said, his sincerity making your heart swell.

He pressed kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your lips, so many all at once.

“I love you so much. You’re so smart and sexy -”

“And a terrible knitter,”

“No, no. You’re a brilliant knitter. These are perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not allowed to ever leave me.” Felix announced, pressing a soft kiss on your upper lip. “Ever.”

“Wow. Bold.” you said, raising your eyebrows.

“You love me,” Felix said smugly, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “I really do.”

You usually put up a fake tree. Easier to manage and all that. But this year, you decided to bring in a real tree, because you wanted Felix to have a really authentic experience. His first ever Christmas. So you go out with your friend Minho and get one.

The tree stood tall in the corner of your living room, its fresh pine scent filling the air.

Fairy lights were strewn across the floor, and the table was piled up with ornaments, tinsel, and glittery decorations. Felix’s eyes glittered with joy as he eyed all the sparkly decorations like they were treasure.

“Wait, so people just… bring a tree inside their house for this holiday?” Felix asked, hovering in front of you with wide, curious eyes. “And decorate it with shiny stuff?”

“Yes,” you said with a laugh, untangling the lights. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

Felix held up a glittery star ornament that was almost as big as he was.

“This is amazing!” he sang, clutching the star to his chest.

“Well, I did pick the sparkliest ones for you,” you teased, glancing over at him. “I thought you’d like them.”

“I love them. This is already my favorite holiday!!”

---

Once the lights were finally untangled, Felix took it upon himself to help string them around the tree. And he also wanted to hang the ornaments (he didn't want to part with the glittery stars and baubles).

He zoomed around the tree, carefully hanging them, occasionally stopping to admire his work.

“Do they have to be evenly spaced?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Well, not really…”

“Great, because I’m putting all the shiny ones in one spot,” he announced, clustering the most glittery ornaments on a single branch.

“Felix, no!”

“But it looks so sparkly!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he held up another ornament. He was glowing - his eyes twinkling under the fairy lights. It was impossible to scold him when he looked so genuinely happy.

When he was finally done, it was time for the tree topper.

“This goes on the very top. Do you want to do the honors?” you asked, handing him the golden star.

He grinned and took the star, clutching it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He flitted up to the top of the tree, and carefully placed the star.

“All done!” he called, before flying back to admire the sparkling tree. “Y/N, this is amazing.”

“I'm so glad you liked it, Lixie.” You said with a smile. “Your first Christmas should be absolutely magical,”

Felix floated back down to you, his tiny hands resting on your cheeks. “You’re magical.”

“Oh, please,” you said, laughing as you blushed under his adoring gaze.

“No, I mean it,” he said softly. “You didn’t have to do all this, but you did. You brought a whole tree into our home just so I could experience this holiday with you. You’re the best, baby.”

You cupped his tiny hands in yours, smiling.

“And you make everything feel magical, Felix. So, I guess we’re even.”

Spending Christmas with Felix had been a truly beautiful experience, because he was in awe of absolutely everything. The food, the hot chocolate (which he demanded every ten minutes, because why not), the snow and obviously, the tree.

And then came the gifts. Felix snuggled closer to your neck in his knitted sweater, vibrating with excitement. His wings fluttered so fast as you reached for the little package you knew he had put under the trees last night.

“Open it, open it!” he chirped, his cheeks glowing.

You smiled, carefully unwrapping the small, neatly tied package. When the paper fell away, you gasped.

Inside was a necklace - a delicate pendant shaped like a heart, intricately carved from what looked like wood but felt so smooth and otherworldly. Within its center, nestled in a cavity of swirling patterns, was a tiny, glimmering stone. When light caught it just right, it shimmered.

“Felix…” Your voice was barely a whisper as you turned to him, wide-eyed. “This is… this is pixie magic, isn’t it?”

Felix looked shy but proud, scratching the back of his head as his wings fluttered nervously.

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “It’s not much - nothing like the magic I could make back home. But I’ve been working on it for a while. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Your heart squeezed. You knew how difficult it was for him to conjure magic in the city, so far from his enchanted home. It drained him and left him fatigued to use his magic. This pendant wasn’t just a gift; it was his love.

“It’s more than perfect,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. You slipped the necklace over your head, the pendant settling against your chest snugly. “Felix, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Before he could respond, you leaned in, cupping his tiny face in your hands and pressing a soft, lingering kiss on top of his head. Felix’s wings fluttered madly as his cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

“Okay, your turn!” you said, grinning as you placed a larger, carefully wrapped box in front of him.

Felix blinked, his pink cheeks still flushed from your kiss. “For me?”

“Of course. Go on, open it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With his tiny hands, he tore through the wrapping paper, his curiosity growing with every layer he peeled back. When he finally lifted the lid, his reaction was epic.

He froze and his mouth fell open, because inside the box was a miniature garden - a lush, vibrant fairy garden filled with tiny plants.

There were cuttings of honeysuckle, foxglove, thyme, and other herbs and flowers you’d researched and found to be dear to pixies. Patches of soft, rich moss filled the gaps, creating a miniature glade that looked as if it had been plucked straight from Felix’s home in the woods.

Felix’s hands trembled as he reached out to touch the moss.

“This… this is…” His voice broke, and you could see that he was trying to keep tears from falling.

“I know you miss home, Lixie,” you said softly. “I tried to make it as close to it as I could. I thought maybe this could help...till we find a way...”

“You made this?” Felix turned to you, his honey-brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Yes, baby,” you said, your heart aching to see the pain in his eyes. “You deserve to feel at home, Felix.”

He let out a shaky laugh, clutching a tiny cutting of honeysuckle to his chest.

“You knit for me. You make me hot chocolate. You let me take over your Christmas tree. And now this?” His wings fluttered wildly again as he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re… you’re perfect. I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, laughing softly.

“No, seriously,” Felix insisted, floating up to meet your gaze. “You’re my wife now. That’s it. Decision made. I don’t care what human traditions you have - we’re married.”

You burst out laughing, cupping your hand around him to gently hug his tiny frame. “Oh, we are, aren't we?”

“Yes!” he declared, his freckled cheeks glowing again. “You’re mine. Forever. I’m never letting you go.”

But the best gift of all?

Waking up to the sound of soft singing. It took you a moment to realize the voice was coming from your balcony. Sleepily, you shuffled over and peeked through the glass door, careful not to make a sound.

There he was - Felix, hovering over one of your plants that, its leaves glistening with dew. Felix was holding a tiny little watering can - you’d put it in his garden as you'd made it - and carefully collecting drops of dew from the larger potted plants.

He tilted the can to sprinkle water gently over the moss and flowers in his garden, his movements slow and careful.

“Good morning, honeysuckle,” he sang, brushing a tiny hand over a leaf. “You’re looking lovely today. And you, foxglove -”

His voice was warm and full of love as he spoke, and he sang softly in a language you didn’t recognize. It was so melodic, weaving through the air like a magical breeze.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He was so utterly devoted to his little world, the kind of magic you couldn’t put into words, the kind that made you want to hold him tight and never let go.

With a soft smile, you made your way back to bed, because your heart was full knowing that he was happy. And you drifted off to sleep again feeling completely blessed.

Tags: @velvetmoonlght @moonchild9350

[maluustrawberry]

I wanted to make a request about what it would be like Bunnymund (ROTG) to fall in love with Reader who is the Guardian of Spring ❤️

Bunnymund X Guardian of Spring Reader. (Headcanons)

A/N: I thought this request was really cute, WHY IS HE SO HOT??!!! He was my childhood crush. I hope you like this Headcanon, I made it with great care.

-•❥❥• Spring and Easter had always worked together, so it was obvious that he knew you and admired your work. You never actually spoke to each other, but there were times when he watched you from afar, always surrounded by the animals you had awakened at the beginning of spring. The first impression you made was that you were very gentle, delicate and shy.

-•❥❥• He was surprised when you were chosen as guardian by the man in the moon. Being skeptical, at first he doubted whether you would really be able to protect The children from Pitch Black, because you had such a delicate and shy manner.

-•❥❥�� The two of you became closer when you became guardian. Bunnymund didn't want to admit it, but he loved being around you because of your presence, always bringing calm.

-•❥❥• It was after a few years that he realized he was in love with you, when he was staring at you for too long, and admired how cute it was when butterflies landed on the flowers in your hair.

-•❥❥• One day, North caught him looking at you absent-mindedly and made fun of him for several months.

-•❥❥• He's very protective and loves to defend you by always standing next to you or behind, even though he knows you're powerful and can defend yourself.

-•❥❥• Often, when Bunnymund least expected it, he found himself very vulnerable in your hands when you paid too much attention to him. Because of your touch, he could become so vulnerable that he was almost submissive to you, almost desperate to be the only thing you saw at that moment.

-•❥❥• He likes to take you to flowery places that make Easter much more magical and colorful, especially because of your presence. And of course your meetings were in his den and painting Easter eggs.

-•❥❥• You know about the little feud between Bunnymund and Jack Frost, he gets jealous when Jack gets too close to you, and the winter spirit knows this and does it on purpose to provoke him.

-•❥❥• To calm him down from his constant jealousy, you would stroke behind his big ears or just give his muzzle a little touch. This quickly calmed him down, as it's the rabbit's most sensitive spot, almost like a drug... maybe even causing him more than that.

-•❥❥• When he confessed his love for you, he was completely nervous. He invited you to a flowery glade, almost enchanted by the beauty of the place and all the nature around. He knelt down humbly and took one of your hands, looking at you as if you were his goddess. That moment was overly dramatic because of his lack of knowledge about love or being in love, so he did it out of "common sense", but he really had no idea what he was doing at the time, almost like a desperate improvisation. He has trouble with very complex words all of a sudden, but, with his courage, he says everything he feels while looking at you with his piercing green eyes.

-•❥❥• He likes to call you by nicknames (my flower, my sweetheart, lovebug, cutie, darling... and of course, in hot times, he likes to call you "My bunny" or "Baby bunny").

-•❥❥• You can bet that in this relationship you would eat a lot of chocolate.

(I love those scenes when he turns into a little bunny OMG!!!😭💕✨🐰)

[dinsbeskar]

Wicked Game (Sauron/F!Reader)

He knows he shouldn't covet you, that he is above such earthy things as love. So why does he stalk you in the forests you call home? It's love at first sight, and the feeling is mutual; or:

Sauron engages in some light stalking and gets the girl somehow.

Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Wicked Game / Beautiful Stranger / Iris

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

Warnings: 18+! Smut, fluff, lil bit of angst, P in V sex, fingering, licking/biting. Sauron!! He's super creepy, sorry, idk what to say, there's some stalking, some creepy behaviour, he's a bit unhinged. Love at first sight!! Like babe it's been an afternoon, calm down. Anyway we move fast!!

A/N: bro is head empty, no thoughts, down bad in this, sorry!! in this house we subscribe to the 'elves fuck once and they're married for eternity' idea, so there's that tiny spoiler for you!

Word Count: 6.2k!

Mairon was already old when he met you, unfathomably ancient in fact, wandering Arda and beholding the power of creation, amongst other things. He was sure he had already experienced everything there was on the physical plain, but you would prove him wrong indeed. When the first Elves awoke, he felt a pull, like many of the Ainur, to see the new life that now roamed the forests and plains they had sung into being. He was not the first spirit to stumble across the peoples of Middle Earth, and he would not be the last. Watching your people dance and sing and create gave him new inspiration to take back to Aulë's forge, to bring order and balance to your lives as he saw fit, for who could know better than he?

Today was a feast day, when all of your people were out in the forest hunting and foraging, mirthful song filling the glades as you ran barefoot through the trees, breathless with laughter and exertion, carrying a basket of berries meant for the evening's festivities. Pale golden light streamed through the leafy canopy, dust motes floating in the rays and sparkling like the stars above. You looked around for your companions, a little far off beyond the thicket you had picked through for its fruit. Unperturbed, you continued, hearing the silvery sound of water flowing somewhere in the vicinity. A drink or a dip was almost certain, you thought, to refresh you and your companions before the feast, but you would find it first and save them from searching. Soft birdsong and rustling leaves accompanied by a warm breeze made for the perfect setting; how could you wish for more?

He makes a great effort to be silent, not wishing to frighten you, unsure of how his sudden appearance might affect you. After all, you hadn't heard him the countless times before, why should you now? He matches your footsteps, remaining in step with you behind the trees in the merciful shadow, careful not to disturb the undergrowth, picking carefully through the wildflowers that scent the air. Your pointed ears prick up at a rustle in the trees, and you snap your head round to investigate. He darts behind a gnarled oak tree, holding his breath and awaiting your discovery. You smile and shake your head softly; what could you possibly be afraid of in these forests, your home for decades? You continue following the sound of the stream up ahead, ignoring all other sounds in the forest now, much to his satisfaction. How innocent you are, how much you need his protection, for what would you do if there were forces that wished to subdue you or do you harm? The glint in his eye grows as he draws closer, still choosing to remain hidden from you. He could use his powers to disguise himself, to stalk you unnoticed almost hand in hand with you, and had done on a few occasions, close enough to smell your soft hair, even to take a few strands for himself, but somehow he likes this better, imagining you the innocent prey to his stealthy predator, a thrill at the though of catching you rushing through him as quickly as he pushes it away. He only wants to watch you, to know you, to observe, nothing more. What interest could you possibly have in one another beyond curiosity?

The first time he saw you, many moons ago, you'd been surrounded by your fellow Elves, dancing in harmony in a field of wildflowers, sweet music in the air. He hadn't thought much of you at first if truth be told, you were all very much alike; all fair and graceful, joyful and innocent. It was only when the music picked up, your dance became faster and more frenetic, that an Elf with long golden hair had tripped and fallen, disrupting the rhythm, leaving all your companions giggling at her misfortune. He too had laughed at her stumble, grateful that the music covered his sudden outburst, but then he noticed you, with your hand outstretched and a comforting smile to greet your fallen comrade, who shook herself off while you picked stray leaves from her hair. She seemed unhurt, and no one else was concerned, already having resumed their merriment, but you held back a moment to check she was well. He was instantly captivated, itching to reveal himself and carry you off, to protect the light within you, or consume it wholly. The tiny semblance of self-restraint he had left held him back, told him to wait and observe, to absorb all he could about you; the idea of you rejecting his advances was intolerable, triggering waves of nauseous anger throughout his being. No, patience would serve him, and so he had waited, oh so patiently. Your kindness had, and would, be your undoing.

Illuminated up ahead is the stream you've been chasing; it's small, barely a trickle, but you follow it regardless. The water is cool and clear and refreshes your worn feet, and you lift your dress to keep it clear as you pad down the river bed, feeling the sandy mud between your toes being washed away as you lift your feet into the current. The light is beginning to fade now, you know you should turn back, but you're sure there is a pool nearby, and it would feel so good to swim a little before getting back to the others. They could share in it tomorrow, but today you could bask in some sweet time alone.

He has been following your softly trodden path in the mossy forest floor, but when he reaches the water's edge, it vanishes. Cursing, he casts about, searching for a hint of your next steps. He had only stopped for a moment, distracted by the way your hair catches the light, your graceful smile, the way your dress flows over your frame. A fleeting thought of taking that same dress off you, the image of you pliant underneath him, all had left him breathless, frankly caught unawares, still unused to the urge to get close to you even after all this time, and the strange feelings that coursed through his fair form that he had never experienced before setting his gaze upon you. He had passed a few golden afternoons like this - perhaps many if he were ever honest - watching and waiting for you, but every occasion felt like a lifetime, which for Mairon was indeed no understatement.

Frustration coursed through him, filling the pit of his stomach with a strange churning at the thought of losing you; it was a feeling he couldn't quite place, nor come to terms with. These mortal forms were not for him, he decided, the lack of clarity in these feelings was suffering enough, and he turned to leave, embarrassed now that he had let it get this far. It was a foolish errand, carried out once too often, following you through the forest with no thought but to see what you would do if you only turned around, saw him, embraced him-

A sharp crack rang out through the trees as he snapped a branch under his feet in his haste, all thoughts of moving in the shadows abandoned as his self-admonishment moved him to run, to leave now before he could become entangled with you. But as he scolded himself for his lack of self control, he heard you call out.

"Who's there? Did you find me? And here I was, hoping for some peace," you laugh, expecting your friends to join you as you wade in the crystal clear waters.

Your eyes widen and you stare at the stranger who appears as if from the shadows themselves, a small smile gracing his face. He is ethereal, and frankly you have never beheld a being more beautiful, but for the first time in your life, a small voice deep in your mind advises caution.

"I didn't mean to startle you, young one," his smooth voice reaches your ears and sends tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"You didn't," you lie, after a long pause, not wanting to discomfort him any more than he seemed to be. Blood rushed to your face as he regards you intensely, as if you'd met before.

"Were you looking for something? The pool perhaps? It is a warm day, I couldn't be too surprised to find someone else had the same idea." You gesture to yourself with your skirts around your waist, legs submerged.

He steps closer, still regarding you, his smile widening. You had said something right apparently, and you couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that his lovely smile gave you; as long as he kept looking at you like that, you felt you might be content forever, such were the tender pangs your heart suddenly felt in his presence. You didn't even know his name, and so immediately you ask.

"I have many names," he articulates carefully, eyes on yours, unblinking.

"So what name should I use for you?" You ask teasingly, beginning to step out of the water, wringing the edges of your skirts out.

Unthinking he stretches out his hand, and as if on instinct, you take it, not needing the assistance but immediately grateful you took it. His hand is warm and strong, and encircles yours comfortingly, fitting perfectly. A wave of some strange feeling overtakes you, a heat beginning in your abdomen, flowing through you. You've never experienced it before, but from what you have heard from your married kin, it might be called lust.

Your face feeling hot now, you look away, anywhere but at this beautiful stranger, and notice a small dark stain blooming on his shoe. Your eyes widen and you drop to your knees to look closer, unheeding of the change in his stance as he takes you in from above. What magic could you wield over him in this position, he wonders.

"You're hurt, my lord," you motion to his foot, and he realises that in his trance, the branch had broken his sole and pierced his flesh. The pain had gone unnoticed until now, your spell over him seeming to soothe any ill in his body or soul, but now that you'd pointed it out, he winced and cursed this body of flesh and bone, so easily vulnerable to the perils of mortality, even if his fëa was not.

"Come, let me look at it, it might be serious," you beckon him to follow you to a fallen tree trunk, lying oh so conveniently on its side, as if waiting for two lovers to take their seats on its bark. He stands awkwardly, watching you, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what you have planned, before you laugh and pull him to sit. Without ceremony, you strip him of his shoe and examine the wound.

"That is a lot of blood for such a small wound," you murmur, tracing the arch of his foot. You find yourself touching his skin a fraction too long, and without looking at him, you straighten and go back to the pool.

His eyes never leave you, even as you avoid his gaze, ripping a strip of gauzy fabric from your dress and wetting it, before hurrying back. Almost imperceptible to the average observer, your hands shake, but he is not the average observer, and he has observed you for quite a while now. You're nervous, he realises with a tiny smirk, and it thrills him, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. All these new feelings this body gave him, they don't appear to cease evolving while you're this close, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin and nearly gasps. He needs to pull himself together, but try as he might, alas, your kindness was intoxicating. He had known such goodness in Aman when he'd dwelt there with his kin, if you could call them that, but his recent company was somewhat lacking in that department.

You sit back on your haunches and look once more at the wound, now nearly clean and seemingly smaller than it had been. Shrugging to yourself, you carefully dab away the blood that still drips onto the ground beneath you, soaking into the moss and ferns; you don't notice how they seem to brown and wilt with each drop.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He asks, quick to notice your confusion, eager to distract you from the plants at your knees.

His lady, that did sound delightful. You know it is a manner of speech, but for a moment it is rather blissful to imagine it, the lady to this gracious lord.

"I think I might have overestimated how badly you were injured, it seems to be only a scratch," you reply, still a little bemused as to the disproportionate amount of blood. How were you to know that he could heal himself with nary a thought.

You start to pull away, but he is reluctant to let you go so soon, wishing for a moment it had been a serious matter, that he would require all of your gentle care and undivided attention for the foreseeable future, kicking himself that he didn't allow the wound to fester and bloom. He casts about for any excuse and uncharacteristically lands on a weak one.

"Your dress, my lady, how can I make it up to you? After all, your efforts ought not be in vain." He knows how to ingratiate himself with most folk, and makes the most of his skills to do so, but there is a tiny part of him now that actually feels he owes a kindness in return. It's an alien notion, and he attempts to brush it aside, but as he lingers in your presence, he realises that he would sooner abduct you from this glade than let you leave him, and if a kindness is what it will take, then he will fulfil it.

A small crinkle appears in your brow, then you glance down at the torn hem and chuckle.

"It is nothing, my lord, easily fixed, and anyone would have done the same." You graciously reply.

The way you look up at him through your lashes, his heart skips a beat; he didn't even know it could do that.

Your small nervous smile becomes radiant, beaming even, as you bask in the glow of the dappled light illuminating his face. You realise you don't want him to leave just yet, inexplicably drawn to his presence, and you cast about for any reason at all that would keep him here.

"I'm afraid your shoe is a little wet." To your credit, it actually is wet, full of blood, but in an inexplicable act to scupper his departure, before he can react and you can elaborate, you find yourself holding it on the water's edge.

Your hands move faster than your brain, and you drop it into the shallows, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, all is still between you, and you bite your lip, your mischievous grin suddenly uneasy as your mind catches up with you and you consider what in all of Middle Earth you just did. This is a total stranger, an ethereallly beautiful one at that, and you have no idea how he will react to your escapade. You straighten and wring your hand a little behind your back, awaiting a wrath that would never come.

"It would appear it is very wet, my lady." And he throws back his head and laughs long and hard, a sound that you want to elicit from him again and again.

When you are lying entwined together, many years and hardships later, he will ask you what you were thinking, and as ever you answer him honestly: you only wanted him to stay, however you had to do it.

With a playful laugh, you retrieve the sodden shoe and shake it off, before holding it out to him. He can still leave, you think, but it will be mighty awkward.

He takes it, throws it behind him, kicks off his other shoe, and shrugs off his robe. Your mouth falls open a little and you lick your lips unconsciously, as his frame is revealed, taut and lean, through his thin shirt. He rucks up his trousers and joins you in the shallow water, shivering a little at the sensation.

Instinctively, you outstretch your hand to steady him, and he takes it without thinking. His touch soothes any nerves you had and sparks a fire that seems to trail up your arm and end in your aching chest. You hadn't noticed you were holding your breath and slowly exhaled, careful not to alert him to your sudden onslaught of sensation. He considers you for a moment, smile tugging at his lips, seemingly fascinated by where you are joined, fingers entwined. And then he has a mad idea.

The tension in the air is cut by a sudden splash of water on your face, and as you clear your eyes, you realise he was the one that had thrown it. He had seen many an elf play-fighting in the water all the time, throwing it at one another joyously, victory seemingly determined by who doused their opponents the most. He had never partaken, obviously, but now inspiration took him, and you had made the first move with his shoe, but now as he watched your face screw up with indignation, water in your eyes and hair, he wasn't so sure it was the right jest with which to entice you.

For a moment you are dumbfounded. This stranger, whose name you still didn't even know, whom you'd only met in the last hour, had started a water fight.

Seemingly affronted, you snatch your hand away and make to leave, turning your back to him. His face falls and he realises this was probably not the way to win your affections.

"My lady, I-" his apology is cut short by an armful of water to the face, as you reach down into the pool and swing as much as you can in his general direction in one fell swoop.

Cackling with triumphant laughter, you can't help but feel a little sorry for him as he stands there absolutely sopping wet, eyebrows in his hairline, looking positively flabbergasted. Unfortunately for you, his eyes narrow as he realises your subterfuge, and the game commences.

It is over soon enough, the two of you emerging soaked and giggling like children, having run rings around each other and giving as good as you got, both of you thoroughly avenged. As you both wade back to shore, he takes your hand and holds it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, I present the victor of the battle-"

He is interrupted by the both of you breaking down into breathless laughter once again, two strangers no more.

On the sandy bank, he climbs out first, and awaits you, but you hold back.

"What should I call you then, my lord, unless that is what you prefer to be named?" You have to ask, needing introductions now you had so thoroughly beaten him in battle, never mind your fascination with him, the overwhelming urge to pull him close.

"I have many names, my lady, and you have not yet told me yours," he replies, almost but not quite frowning at you, confused as to why it really matters, why you would need to know who he is after having passed such a pleasurable afternoon together.

"You first, I asked you before and you avoided the question." Your expression is now serious; why would he want to conceal himself from you, after you had passed such a pleasurable afternoon together?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have many names, but the one I prefer," he holds his breath a little, still unsure as to how you might receive him, "is Mairon."

After a long pause, in which he considers fleeing, or possibly burning the forest down, your expression brightens as you mull over his name, feel it in your mouth, wonder over the meaning.

"That is beautiful," you murmur, "the admirable? You must be something wonderful to have earned such a name, my lord."

Relief washes over him as he realises his true name must not yet be known in these parts; rumours and slander would not colour his attempts to woo you after all.

His gaze softens as he watches you taste his name on your tongue, and he has a sudden aching longing to know what it sounds like when you're on your back and breathless under him. Surely nothing could be sweeter.

"And you, love, what am I to call you?" He is so struck by you, he barely notices the crucial detail that slips from his lips, but you do, and you regard him with a strange look he can't place.

Love, he said, so casually and so delicious to hear, your breath hitches and for a second the world spins. You've only just met this man, if he is even a man, and he uses such pet names as if you've known each other a lifetime.

"Amarië, that's what everyone calls me." You had almost forgotten he had asked, and it was only the silence between you that reminded you to answer.

"Goodness. A fitting name for so virtuous a maiden." He steps closer, still on the bank, oh so tall above you, the light through the trees illuminating him from behind, leaving his features in shadow.

Of course, he already knew your name, and had always thought it fitting. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had hesitated to approach you, for surely one so good could not possibly want nor need one such as him, despite the ache in his heart that told him you were his to take, the rest of Arda be damned. He knew his purpose in Arda was a valiant one; his methods, however, he was aware they were... contestable.

Your face grows hot at his compliment, and you look down and away, anywhere but at his gaze, currently fixed on you, intense and contemplative. He gently lifts your chin, seeming to study your every feature, every nuance in your expression until he sees what he desires.

A shadow passes over his face, before he tightens his grip and finally pulls you from the shallow water. You stumble a little, but he is right there to catch you, strong arms around you as your free hand is crushed between you, pressed against his chest. His eyes are dark, scaring you and thrilling you all at once, like a wolf studying its prey before their total annihilation. Then he takes your face in his hands and claims your lips, as if he's finally satisfying some dark long-held urge, and you cannot help but melt.

It is as if he has done this a thousand times before, teasing you with his tongue, demanding entrance to your mouth as if he wants to drown in you.

Electric tingles spread over your skin everywhere he touches, from your neck where he grips you softly, to your lips he has claimed for his own, to your waist that he refuses to yield from his embrace.

He is unrelenting, refusing to let you come up for air, even as you claw at his arms for release. Finally he seems to realise his mistake and pulls back, lips swollen and parted in pleasure. You take a deep breath, chuckling a little as you do so.

"You are no Elf, my lord Mairon," you remark, righting your dress and smoothing your hair where he had wound his fingers.

With a slightly apologetic smirk, he nods. "I am something far greater, my love, so from time to time, I might forget such... intricacies."

In this moment, you feel as though your heart might burst, wanting him close, touching you, encircling you. But a shiver travels down your spine as the little voice whispering warnings becomes a scream, beholding him not as an ethereal being sent to ravish you, but a danger to ruin you. It was all too brief and you shook it off, for how could this beautiful creature ever mean you harm?

Evening becomes night, and you migrate from the tree trunk to the forest floor. Nestled into him with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you share the basket of berries that will surely be missed at the feast of your kin, and talk for hours about everything and nothing. He tells you of his work, that he is a smith and loves nothing more than to create beautiful things, but he has never had more exquisite inspiration than you.

He seems to know just what to say, soft words whispered only to please you, and all you want is more. He traces his fingers up and down your arm, across your collarbone, into the shell of your ear, idly mapping every inch of you.

He doesn't press you further than gentle touches and tiny kisses peppering your skin. Perhaps though he is no Elf, he is aware of your people's customs, that to give yourself to him in body would be to make the two of you one forever, body and soul. You're not so sure that isn't what you want, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless; after all, you have only known him an afternoon.

It takes all of his self-restraint to suppress the urge to take you here and now, after all, who were you to stop him? But he wanted you when you were ready for him, mind, body, and soul, and he was willing to wait, even if it took an age. Admittedly it would be a difficult wait, he muses, as he realises the close proximity of your body to his is having an unexpected effect on him. He shifts position to avoid you noticing how hard he is just from touching you, and he prays to any of the Valar who might have an ear for him that his wait for you will be swift.

You twirl a tiny flower idly between your forefinger and thumb, gazing up at the heavens, your other hand wrapped in his. You are such exquisite inspiration, he muses, smirking as he realises he can have you after all. He sits up, making you groan, robbed of his warmth.

"What are you doing, love?" You complain, taking a slightly petulant tone that makes him chuckle.

"You'll see, patience is a virtue," he reaches out with his closest hand and smoothes your hair, gesturing for you to lie back down.

You kick your feet a little, suitably admonished but impatient still.

"Come back to me, I had just got comfortable, and you've ruined it now!" You laugh at him, his back turned to you so you can't make out what he is doing.

You sigh long and loud, earning an affectionate chuckle, before you lay back down and close your eyes. It is but a few moments later that he grasps your hand and pulls you up to face him. When you see what he has readied, you gasp, tears pricking your eyes.

Purple irises grow with literal wild abandon in these fields and you had always loved them, weaving them in your hair and stitching their image on your garb. In his hand, perched on his fingertips as if it is the most precious thing in creation, is a tiny iris in full bloom, its slender stem wound and plaited into a ring, with its gorgeous indigo flower crowning it like no diamond ever could.

He is on his knees in front of you, ring in hand, and for a second you cannot quite put the pieces together. You have known him a day, if that? It is a beautiful gift, but can you accept the deeper meaning behind it, that seems to lie in his expression, if not his words.

"It is beautiful, my lord," you sigh, "I think I shall require your aid in putting it on, it is so delicate after all."

Your heart aches at his wide smile, the crinkle of his eyes as he wordlessly slips it onto the fourth finger of your left hand, which surely he cannot know would mean-

"I would make you mine, my love, if you would have me," he murmurs, heart beating out of his chest, sentiment momentarily making him soft and weak for you.

So he does know the significance, and in an instant you feel as though you've been doused in liquid fire, nerves tying your stomach in knots, regarding his gift on your finger with equal parts trepidation and excitement.

You close the space between you and grasp his face with both hands, claiming his lips for your own, fingers travelling to his hair and over the pointed tips of his ears. He moans deep in his chest and pushes you backwards into your makeshift bed, peppering you with kisses until all your skin is ablaze.

"I am yours," you breathe, words so soft he might have missed them, had you not whispered directly into his ear, clutching his neck and whimpering as he maps every uncovered inch of you he can reach with his lips.

He groans, a noise so guttural it surprises you in the best way, sending a wave of arousal to between your legs. He rolls his hips against yours, and you feel something hard against your mound, through all the layers of fabric between you.

The stars blaze above you, hot and bright, but they have nothing on the way he makes you feel. You have heard of love at first sight, but never thought it might happen to you, that it was rare enough if it happened at all.

His hot breath trails down your neck to your collarbone, and his clever fingers work to unlace you from the fabric shielding you from his gaze. He stops a moment, breathing heavily.

"Tell me you want this -" his silver tongue licks your ear and sucks at your neck. "Tell me you need this."

His gaze is so heated, and his voice rough with arousal, that you clench your legs together to relieve that ache that has been building there since you met him. It seems like forever ago now, impossible that it has not even been a day.

"I need you," you hiss, desperate for any touch he'll bestow upon you. "...I'll always need you, now that I have you, I can't let you go."

Your words shatter the last remaining resolve he had not to ruin you, and he takes you as his own. Stripping every inch of you until you are bare before him, desperate for his skin on yours, he wraps you in his arms, legs entwined with yours. The violent urge to claim you was not satisfied, but he would have plenty of time to show you all of him; tonight was your wedding night, and you deserved what gentleness he could provide.

He runs his fingers through your slick, fascinated by how wet you are for him. Perhaps these mortal forms were not so bad after all.

You moan his name and beg for more, though you cannot possibly know what you are asking for. His lascivious grin sends tremors through you, a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there is no going back now.

He loosens himself from his trousers, shucks them off almost clumsily in his haste to be inside you. He is beautiful, you reflect, as you take in his bare torso, his strong legs, and all the flesh in between. His size shocks you a little and you wonder how he plans to use it.

He sees your eyes widen and immediately covers you with his body, kissing softly at your neck so to better hear your tiny sounds of pleasure. In time he will make you scream, he vows.

"It's alright, love," he reassures you with a soft smile, "I've got you, I won't let it hurt."

His fingers move in comforting circles in the small of your back, at the apex of your thighs, across your mound. He gathers the slick from your entrance, readying himself with a stroke. He is already so painfully hard, but he has to come inside you, no way will he waste his seed on the forest floor.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself to between your thighs, wrapping your legs around him.

"Pull me to you, love, make me yours," he pants, cock straining at your entrance, waiting for you to take the plunge.

It's like standing at a precipice; the fear of falling is so closely tied to the fear of jumping. But you bite your lip and dig your fingernails into his back, tighten your calves, and pull his lower body into yours.

You want to scream, the stretch is too much, he is too big and he's hitting somewhere delicious inside you that makes you see stars. He doesn't move, letting you feel all of him, relishing in you taking him like the good girl you are.

"Well done, love, so good for me, you feel so fucking good," he exhales, towering over you while the moon illuminates him from behind, leaving his expression inscrutable.

His fingers on your abdomen are so soothing, the stinging stretch you felt disappears, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more friction, more skin on yours, you'd take anything he would give you.

At first his movements are slow and rhythmical, as if you are made of glass, but your impatient whines encourage him to release himself upon you, snapping his hips in time to your thrusts against him, endlessly surprised but thrilled at your eagerness to please him. He has chosen so well.

The intensity of the moment gets the better of both of you, and before long you are chanting his name in his ear, chasing your inevitable ruin on his cock.

He comes first, much to his eternal embarrassment, unable to prevent spilling inside you as your tight cunt clenches his flesh. You feel him pulse inside you and it tips you over the edge, a silent scream on your lips as fire overtakes your flesh and leaves you drowning in him.

For a second, you behold each other as you truly are, not in body but spirit, and it terrifies you; you see something black as the darkest night throwing off flames that lick at your being, triggering that sick swooping feeling in your abdomen again. He is enthralled by you, bright and radiant like the morning star, and he wants to coat himself in your light, drink it in and burn all of Arda until there is nothing but the two of you in the cosmos.

His attentions to your neck slow and he leans back to look at you in all your glory, radiant under him in body and soul, as you lazily trace his hips with your fingers, coming down from your high and needing nothing more than to be held.

"You did so well, my love, so good for me," he whispers as he releases you from his grasp, laying you down beside him and pressing himself against your back with his arm slung over your torso possessively.

Your eyes begin to droop with the lateness of the hour and the exertion of your wedding night, and while he murmurs in your ear how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how much he needs you, you take his hand and sleepily press a kiss to his palm. You snuggle in closer as he draws his robe around the pair of you against the night's chill, and slowly drift off, a smile on your face even in sleep.

He gazes at you adoringly, murmuring sweet nothings as your body relaxes into his.

"Beautiful girl, only mine," his voice is so soft yet somehow it finds you even as you begin to slumber. "My sweet wife, we will know peace together, I swear it to you."

He wants to claw inside his own chest and pull his treacherous heart out with his bare hands, for surely that pain would be easier to bear than this. He curses himself for being so weak, and you for being so tempting, before closing his eyes to join you.

He thought by having you, possessing you, that these feelings might be assuaged, that the urgency he felt to be near you would fade, and he could move on from this unique torment. Alas they had increased a hundredfold, and he swore on his fëa itself that no harm would ever come to you, that he would cherish you all his days.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you

[hollow-knight-fights]

Hollow Knight Area Fight: Round 1

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hi! I read your posts offering tips on how to describe dark coastal and academia settings. They were super helpful! I was wondering if you had any writing tips for dark forests..? Hope it wasn't too big of an ask. Thanks for your time!

I truly love this so much! I apologize for the delay in my post. I tend to put things off sometimes, I'm a serial procrastinator and it took me a little while to gather my thoughts on what you might encounter in dark forests. But hopefully these are similar to what you wanted!

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜List of Random Things For Your Dark Forests Settings | For Writers

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜

The Overgrown Trail 🌿

Winding dirt path obscured by tangled roots and underbrush

Twisted, gnarled tree trunks reaching up to block the sky

Shafts of pale moonlight cutting through the thick canopy

The distant hoot of an owl and the chittering of unseen creatures

The earthy, damp scent of decaying leaves and moss

The Abandoned Cabin 🏚️

Dilapidated wooden structure, its paint peeling and windows boarded up

Cobwebs draped across the porch railing and doorframe

The creak of warped floorboards and the groan of the sagging roof

Rusted tools and broken furniture scattered among the weeds

The stale, musty odor of neglect and the faint tang of rot

The Moonlit Glade 🌕

A small clearing, the grass blanketed in a carpet of wildflowers

Gnarled, ancient trees ringing the open space like silent sentinels

Faint wisps of fog drifting across the still surface of a dark pond

The soft susurration of leaves in the gentle breeze

The faint glow of bioluminescent mushrooms dotting the forest floor

The Winding Stream 🌊

A burbling brook cutting through the undergrowth, its water crystal-clear

Thick, twisted roots breaking through the soil along the banks

Schools of darting minnows and the occasional flash of a trout

Clusters of delicate ferns and mosses clinging to the damp rocks

The soothing sound of rushing water over the pebbles

The Ritual Circle 🕯️

A ring of large, moss-covered stones in a small, secluded clearing

Remnants of burned candles and wilted flower petals scattered within

Carved wooden totems or animal skulls adorning the perimeter

Thin wisps of incense smoke curling up towards the treetops

The eerie silence, broken only by the distant cry of a raven

The Fog-Shrouded Ravine 🌫️

A deep chasm obscured by tendrils of swirling mist

Gnarled, skeletal trees clinging to the steep, rocky sides

The faint sound of running water echoing up from the unseen depths

Thick vines and twisted roots snaking across the uneven ground

The chill of the damp air, raising goosebumps on bare skin

The Witch's Cottage 🧙‍♀️

A crooked, thatched-roof hut nestled between the twisted trees

Dried herbs and animal bones hanging from the eaves

Smoke curling from the chimney, the scent of charred wood and herbs

A small garden of nightshade, mandrake, and other sinister plants

The eerie cackling of the resident witch, her shadow glimpsed through the windows

The Forgotten Graveyard 🪦

Crumbling, moss-covered headstones half-submerged in the undergrowth

Skeletal tree branches reaching down like grasping hands

Ravens perched atop the weathered grave markers, cawing ominously

Shreds of tattered funeral wreaths and faded flowers scattered about

An unearthly chill in the air, as if the spirits of the dead linger

The Enchanted Pool 🌙

A small, still body of water reflecting the night sky above

Luminescent flora blooming along the murky banks

Schools of glimmering, ethereal fish drifting through the depths

Mist swirling across the surface, obscuring the view of the bottom

The faint sound of otherworldly music drifting from unseen sources

The Cursed Clearing 🕳️

A barren, circular area devoid of vegetation, as if scorched by dark magic

Twisted, blackened tree trunks surrounding the perimeter like sentinels

Jagged shards of obsidian-like rock piercing up from the soil

The crunch of bone-dry leaves and twigs underfoot, shattering the silence

An oppressive aura of dread and unnatural stillness permeating the air

[astra-ravana]

Liminal Spaces in Witchcraft

'A liminal space' refers to a place or time that is a period of transition between two phases. These are usually places where reality feels altered because you are neither here nor there.

The word "liminal" originates feom the Latin word, "limens", meaning threshold. These places often give off a sense of time standing still, a reality shift, or slipping in into a different dimension.

In magick and witchcraft these spaces are considered to be the boundary between our world and another, known as the 'In-Between'. These places are considered areas of great and powerful magick, since the veil is so thin there. As such, they are great spaces for divination, spirit work, ritual magick, hedge-riding or astral travel, and meditation. Liminal spaces are believed to be neutral/grey zones, undesignated and unclaimed, which makes them fantastic spots to make contact/work with entities like the Fae, elementals, the dead, spirits, djinn, demons and gods.

Examples of Liminal Spaces

• Crossroads

• Caves

• Rivers and creeks

• Shores and beaches

• Hallways, corridors, stairwells, landings

• Doorways and windows

• Graveyards, cemeteries, and burial mounds

• Fairs, festivals, and marketplaces

• Hedge rows

• Abandoned or empty places

• The edges of vallies, forests, and glades

• Swamps, bogs, and marshes

• During dawn/dusk, the afternoon and midnight

• Mirrors

[petrichor-idyllic]

MINHO

MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS IN GREEN

NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT

○ FLUFF | □ SPICE | ● ANGST |• HEADCANONS

◇ FEM! READER | ☆ GN! READER | 《》 MASC! READER

□ LONGING FROM AFAR ◇

↳ Minho has always been cocky and self-assured. That is until a girl arrives in the Glade. A girl he's had some interesting dreams about.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• SOME HEADCANONS ◇

↳ Just some headcanons about our favourite Runner.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ FIRECRACKER ◇

↳ Minho finally agrees to teach you how to fight after weeks of pestering him. Though, things take an unexpected turn.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SAFE PLACE ◇

↳ After you narrowly escape the vicious actions of another Glader who couldn't take no for an answer, you find refuge in Minho's hut - and his arms.

Contains references to sexual assault but there's nothing explicit.

○ UNDER THE INFLUENCE ◇

↳ After the Greenie Day celebrations leave you a little bit intoxicated, Minho takes care of you and keeps you safe.

○ HIDE AND SEEK ◇

↳ You're training to be a Runner and, as the Keeper, Minho is made to look after you. Though, things take a dramatic turn as Minho is forced to save your life.

□ LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER ◇

↳ Somehow, you end up giving your best friend a massage. Things go about as well as expected.

Basically the start of a bad porn scenario.

□ INAPPROPRIATE WORKPLACE BEHAVIOUR ◇

↳ You miss out on the Bonfire to stay to help Minho with the Maps. Unfortunately, he's a little distracted.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ AFTER THE CALM ◇

↳ Joining the group from the scorch, the Gladers take a blow after losing Newt to the Crank Palace. So, you help cheer Minho up.

Book-based fic. Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ BEYOND THE OTHER SIDE ◇

↳ Despite your feelings for one another, you and Minho have decided it's best to stay friends. But, after you nearly lose him to the clutches of the Maze, and he says some choice words to Gally - you decide enough is enough.

Book based fic. Some suggestive themes.

● ALL YOU HAVE ◇

↳ Minho has always had you by his side. He doesn't know how he'd cope without you. Well, now he might have to learn how.

Bro, you die. Rip.

WARMTH IN COLD PLACES ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | □ PART 2

↳ You are an undercover agent for The Right Arm working behind enemy lines in WCKD's headquarters. Your simple intel gig ends up being the least of your problems as you're suddenly put on the front lines of a rescue mission. It doesn't help that the boy you're pretending to keep prisoner is pretty cute.

□ BEHAVE ◇

↳ You're obsessed with your boyfriend. It's just so hard to keep your hands off of him - even when he's working.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ MIRAGE OF THE PAST ◇

↳ Despite never seeing Minho before, you swear you recognise him. That's why you're always staring. Well, and the man is fine. Now in your place of refuge, the Safe Haven provides you with a home, and a new sense of freedom. A bit of flirting can't hurt, right?

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ IT TAKES TIME  ◇

↳ You were immediately attracted to Minho when you met him in the Scorch. Now, after six months and many losses, you're reunited.

○ STAY CLOSE 《》

↳ Your dream of becoming a Runner is crushed time and time again. But that doesn't stop you from running out into the Maze to help Minho and Alby. Though, that doesn't mean you're the only one willing to risk your life to protect those you care about.

□ FRIENDLY COMPETITION ◇

↳ A friendly game of capture the flag turns heated thanks to yours and Minho's competitive spirit.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SOFT AT HEART ◇

↳ Soft, sweet and caring; you're the mother of the Glade.

○ BLIND EYE ◇

↳ Minho has a crush on you. You're oblivious. He's losing his mind.

○ DECEPTION IN LIBERATION ◇

↳ You're from Group B. Meeting someone in the middle of a prison break is one hell of an introduction.

□ HIGH SCHOOL NOT-SO-SWEET-HEARTS ◇

↳ High school AU. Minho is popular and sporty. You're quiet and smart. It's a stereotypical high-school romance, except Minho is the one tripping over himself for you. And, well, you don't believe him.

Contains suggestive content and spice. Minho won't accept your rejection.

○ HOW TO WINGMAN (POORLY) ☆

↳ Everyone in the Glade is sick of watching you and Minho dance around your feelings for each other. So, they decide to do something about it. Well, they attempt to, at least.

○ DIE FOR YOU ☆

↳ Song fic based off of "Die for You" by The Weekend.

ON YOUR OWN ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | ○ PART 2 | ○ PART 3

↳ You were put in a Maze all on your own, with nothing but your dog. The isolation is one thing, but what'll happen when you finally escape?

○ SOLIDARITY ◇

↳ Minho is used to being the tough guy; but he doesn't know how to react when he meets someone tougher than him.

○ LIFE BEFORE DROWNING ◇

↳ You're from one of the many alternative Mazes - and yours happened to be full of water. Though, you only realise how weird your Maze was when you reach the Safe Haven, and meet a certain Runner, who feels weirdly familiar.

○ SAVIOR COMPLEX ◇

↳ You're a new Runner, and a disobedient one. So, when you get stung, Minho is left to play saviour. And doctor. Though, as he looks after you, he starts to think you might not be so bad.

○ IN ADVANCE OF GREIF ◇

↳ Getting bitten by a crank is never fun. But, you're from a Maze, so, you'll be fine... right?

□ EXPOSURE ◇

↳ In an attempt to comfort Chuck, you confess an embarrassing secret about something you did back when you were crushing on Minho and before you started dating. Unfortunately, your boyfriend isn't as heavy of a sleeper as you originally thought.

Contains mild suggestive content and spice.

□ SPARKS ◇

↳ Now in the Safe Haven, the sexual tension between you and Minho has turned into a twisted game of restraint. Though, it's hard not to break when you finally catch a glimpse of Minho's lightning scars.

Contains suggestive themes and spice.

□ BEST FEATURE ☆

↳ You can't stop staring at Minho's arms.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• INDOCTRINATION ☆

↳ The first time you ever met Minho in the WICKED facility, and the corrupt childhood you briefly spent together before things take a wrong turn.

[regal-bones]

THE METAMORPHOSIS - The Spirit of Change WEAPONS: ENERGY BEAM “A cocoon spun of light, my hand here, close to my chest. Are you there? I can hear you inside. I will be your voice, I will be your wings. Break open my chrysalis, take flight. We don't need to hide anymore, safe in the forest glade.”

Piloted by Trixie, the METAMORPHOSIS is one of six unique ships you can play as in Pride Fighters!

🏳️‍🌈 Pride Fighters is free - you can play it by following this link!! 🏳️‍⚧️

Icon art by @dogfruit01 !