#Willow rain afraid of the dark

[kakashikxge]

I have some very exciting news! As most of you know, I created a kakasaku fanfiction where kakashi worked as a drug lord.

I took the outline for that fanfiction and turned it into a real book!

I’ve been working on this for awhile now, and I hope y’all love the new story as much as you liked the fanfiction. The book is VERY different from the kakasaku story, although there are still parallels.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 1: Bruises and Bloodlines]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else's protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm's End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), Aemond stressing everybody out, Aegon hating his life even more than usual, RIP lil Luke Strong, don't touch bats in real life or you will get rabies.

Word count: 6.3k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @mrs-starkgaryen @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

Cannibal, a noun: one that devours its own.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s back, you can feel it: a sensation like falling, the impact of Vhagar’s claws against the earth. You get glimpses like this, unpredictable flashes of intuition, a window into the contents of his mind or the scenery he is draped in like how branches hang from a willow tree. You set Blueberry down on the windowsill, where he skitters to the edge and swoops out into the night, chasing white specks of moths and lacewings. Then you leave your bedchamber to meet Aemond in the hallway.

One of the maids is there, trying to be patient as she paces with Maelor in her arms. He’s just like you were at that age: a demon who never sleeps. His white-blonde hair is disheveled, his eyes rheumy and pink from crying in protest. But then they brighten.

“Red Red!” Maelor swipes at you with tiny, grasping hands.

“What are you doing awake?” you coo at him, beaming. “It’s nighttime. You aren’t a bat. Are you a bat, huh? Are you hiding a pair of wings somewhere?”

He giggles as you pretend to inspect him. The maid smiles.

“If you don’t have any wings, I’m afraid you’ll have to go right to sleep. That’s the rule for humans.”

Maelor trills in his toddler lisp: “Then I want to be a bat.”

“Okay! I’ll find some bugs for you to eat.”

“No!” he squeals, dismayed. “No bugs!”

“In that case, I guess you’re a human after all. If you go to bed now, you can help me collect seashells tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Maelor agrees grudgingly, and the maid ferries him away. From the Godswood, great horned owls hoot. One of the knights of Aegon’s Kingsguard, Sir Willis Fell from the Stormlands, passes by on his patrol and gives you a quick nod, polite but a bit avoidant, awkward truths he pretends he can ignore. He doesn’t ask if you need assistance or why you’re awake at this hour. He already knows. He vanishes again, his white cloak swishing behind him like the tail of a wolf or a jackal.

You lurk at the top of the Grand Staircase shrouded in shadows and shifting firelight, feeling night wind skate over your cheek like children playing on a frozen lake, and that breeze is not here but outside where Aemond must be trudging across the courtyard towards the royal apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast. You drum your fingertips impatiently on the stone banister. When at last he appears—first only a silhouette in the darkness, then rippling into color under the torches, black leather and silver hair—Aemond is drenched with rain and ascending swiftly, two stairs at a time.

You grin as you take a step down to him, slinking, conspiratorial. He told you all his plans before he left; he tells you almost everything. “How was Storm’s End?”

But Aemond doesn’t answer. He blows past you and stalks towards Criston’s chambers, rainwater dripping from his hair and littering the floor with tiny, transluscent pools.

You turn to watch him leave, mystified. “Aemond?”

He says without stopping: “Go wake Aegon and Mother. Tell them to meet me in the small council chamber. I’ll get Criston and Grandsire.”

“Why?” Again, Aemond ignores you. This is unusual. You bolt after him, closing the space between you until your fingers catch his wrist. “Aemond, what—?”

He grabs you and pins you to the wall, the stones cold against your belly through the crimson velvet of your robe, Aemond’s hips braced against yours, domineering, demanding, promising what he will do for you after. You close your eyes and sigh shakily—a savoring, a surrender—and then he is tender, turning your face so he can kiss the apple of your cheek. He murmurs, warm and low: “Do as I ask.”

You nod. “Okay,” you agree in a whisper. Aemond releases you and vanishes to rouse Criston. You break for Aegon’s chambers.

There is a woman in his bed, snoring softly and with long auburn hair spilling over her bare shoulders. He has endeavored to spend less time drinking and philandering since becoming king, and yet…it is so rare for a creature to change its spots or stripes or scales. Aegon has always been this way. Without his vices, you would not recognize him.

You kneel beside the bed and rest a palm lightly on Aegon’s damp forehead. You have to be careful when you wake him; he flinches, he startles, he has too many memories of being ripped from sleep by bruises and crescent-moon indentations of fingernails. “Aegon? I’m really sorry, I know it’s late.”

He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s you. “Fuck off,” he groans into his pillow.

“Aemond’s back from Storm’s End, but something’s wrong. He wants you to meet him in the council chamber.”

Aegon looks up and blinks drowsily. Moonlight spills into the room through gaps in the curtains. He smells strange, like lavender; that must be from his companion. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

You shake your head.

Now Aegon is alarmed. The dark, cloudy blue of his irises is rapidly clearing. “Alright. Give me five minutes.”

“Wash the girl’s perfume off you so Mother isn’t quite so disappointed.”

Aegon chuckles, rubbing his eyes; something about the way he does this reminds you of Maelor. They are both just boys; they are both so incendiary and yet so vulnerable. “Get out, whore.”

You tousle his hair roughly, smack a kiss onto his sweat-salted temple as he tries to shove you away, snicker as he hurls pillows at you. You are slipping through the doorway when you hear the woman in bed mumble: “Huh? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Aegon says. “Thank you very much for your company, your skills were more than adequate, now kindly find your way home…”

You hurry down the hall to Mother’s chambers. There are seven-pointed stars on the walls and the furniture, green tapestries everywhere. She will always be a Hightower, averse to Valyrian oddities and suspicious of that sinister, ancient magic. She does not understand it; she tries to overlook it in her children. It’s the only way she knows how to love them. You sit beside the indistinct shape beneath the blankets, sinking into the goose feather mattress, and nudge what you guess is her shoulder. “Mother?”

She stirs, and then her face fills with concern when she sees you in the dim light from her candles. “What’s happened, darling? Are you ill?” You are prone to headaches and chills and nausea, you always have been, maladies of the flesh that are either a blood inheritance or a curse from bad stars. Once when you were very young, Aemond pushed you into a cold stream during a royal progress to the Vale, and you had been laughing when Criston leapt in and dragged you from the water; but two days later, you began burning up with a fever so hot they thought you might die. Aemond had slept on the floor beside your bed, and when you shivered so violently your bones ached he climbed in beside you and held you until you could sleep again; and later when his eye was cut out on Driftmark and he was half-mad with pain, you did the same for him.

“No, Mother, I’m fine. It’s Aemond.”

She sits up and studies you. “Aemond?”

“He’s back from Storm’s End, and he wants to talk to you.”

“To me?”

“And Criston and Aegon, and Grandsire too.”

She doesn’t understand. “Now? Why? What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea.”

“What did he say?”

Everyone expects you to already know, but you don’t. “I think he wants to tell all of us at the same time. In the small council chamber.”

“Now?” she says again, puzzled, still half-asleep. “What is so important that it can’t wait until morning?”

“Mother, there are only so many ways for me to express that I don’t know. If I had any indications at all, I’d share them.”

“Alright.” She’s smiling; you have amused her. She throws off the covers and touches her bare feet to the floor. “Pass me my robe. It’s on that chair over there.” And of course, the swath of velvet you hand her to wear over her nightgown is a deep emerald green: the color of fertile fields, not blood or beasts.

By the time you and Mother arrive together, everyone else is already taking their places in the council chamber. Aegon is at the head of the table, spinning his stone—a black sphere of volcanic glass—and peering around boredly. Grandsire and Criston are greeting Mother and yawning into the backs of their hands. No one has woken Helaena, and yet she is here, settling nimbly into the chair beside Aegon. He gives her a brief, fond glance, noting that she is fidgeting with a small oak dragonfly he once made for her. Aegon carves wood, Helaena embroiders, you shatter seashells with tiny hammers and use the shards to make mosaics, miniscule yet unladylike violence. Aemond has books and swords in place of crafts. And Daeron…you assume he must have cultivated some artistic talents while away in Oldtown—he was always so imaginative as a boy—but you would not know them. You see him so rarely now. You sit across the table from Aemond. He is the only attendee not dressed in nightclothes. His black leather tunic is still layered with a sheen of rain.

Grandsire lowers himself gingerly into his seat, grinding arthritic bones that pain him. The nights have grown chilly, even here in the south. Winter is coming, the maesters warn. His gaze passes over you and Helaena—the two of you aren’t really supposed to be here, but you’ll be permitted to stay if you cause no trouble—then he smirks humorlessly at Aemond. “So you failed.”

“No,” Aemond says, and you think as you look around the table: No Orwyle, no Lannister, no Wylde, not even Larys Strong. What does Aemond not want them to know? “Lord Baratheon has agreed to marry his youngest daughter to Daeron in one year’s time. He was very enthusiastic about the match.”

“Great!” Aegon declares. “Although, personally, I am of the inexpert opinion that this could have been discussed over bacon and honeycakes at breakfast…”

Grandsire snorts, derisive; he disapproves, though perhaps he is not surprised. He says to Aemond: “You were sent to negotiate your own marriage, not Daeron’s.”

Aemond shrugs, as if it happened by coincidence. “That was Borros Baratheon’s preference.”

“It was your preference, you mean.”

Aemond is careful not to reveal any emotion. “Daeron is young, but he already has a reputation. He is known to be handsome and chivalrous and…” A wave of the hand as he searches for the right word. “Unmutilated. It is not so difficult to imagine why a father would believe him to be a more worthy son-in-law.”

“It doesn’t matter to me, one Targaryen is as good as the next,” Aegon says, and of course nobody pays much attention.

“Perhaps Borros Baratheon’s judgment has been contaminated by certain disturbing and disgraceful rumors,” Grandsire counters and glares at you. You don’t reply; there’s nothing you can say that would help. Everyone knows, but it rarely spoken of aloud, as if it is a ghost nobody wants to inadvertently conjure. All your life there has been this perpetual rebalancing of scales: someone mentions a diplomatic match for you, you stall and Aemond makes excuses, Grandsire and Mother try to convince him, Aemond is immoveable and they aren’t willing to invoke his wrath. Vhagar is the subtext of every dispute. They need her, they are terrified of her.

Criston attempts to deescalate. “Aemond’s task was to ensure the Baratheons’ loyalty to the crown, and he has accomplished that. Perhaps it would be wise to move on.”

“Fine, what else?” Grandsire snaps. “You assembled us here for some reason, I presume. It must be urgent to merit a meeting now. It better be urgent, or I’ll be paying people to shake you awake during the hour of the wolf for the next month.”

“It is urgent,” Aemond says softly, then pauses, gazing down at the ball in front of him, white quartz dappled with blue. Everyone watches him. You share a glance with Aegon; he is curious, but you have nothing to offer him. You turn back to Aemond with bewilderment in your face, furrows in your brow.

“Aemond?” Mother prompts.

He looks at you, only for a second, but you’re thunderstruck by what you see in his remaining eye. You have rarely known Aemond to be afraid, but he is right now. What happened? you think, horror making the blood in your veins cold and slow and heavy. What did he do?

Aemond begins: “Luke Strong was at Storm’s End too.”

“What?” Grandsire says, more baffled than worried. “That runt? Why?”

“He’s a weasel,” Aegon mutters, spinning his ball again.

“Rhaenyra’s son?” Mother asks. “She sent him there all alone? How peculiar. The way she was always hovering over him while they were here, I’m amazed she let him out of her sight for that long. How old is he now? With that plain, ever-anxious, pug-nosed face, he looks like a little boy—”

Aemond says: “He was sent to remind Borros of his old pledge to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim. But Luke had no incentives to offer.”

“And so Lord Baratheon rejected him,” Grandsire surmises.

Aemond nods, though perhaps halfheartedly.

“Well, good,” Grandsire says, surveying the table for agreement. “That’s good, right? With every house that refuses to aid her, Rhaenyra will be more likely to accept our terms, and we can resolve this question of succession without any bloodshed.”

“Meleys and the Dragonpit,” Aegon reminds him.

“Without further bloodshed,” Grandsire amends.

Mother and Criston concur, but you’re watching Aemond. He hasn’t responded yet. Mother’s gaze flits between the two of you. She is somewhat sympathetic to the affinity you share, but she doesn’t understand it. More than anything, you get the sense she believes it is something you must be saved from. The Hightowers could stomach Aegon and Helaena’s match—Viserys was still healthy enough to insist upon it, and the couple so seemingly platonic it was easy to forget they were married at all—but they have no appetite for a desire that defies political expediency, that burns scorching and wild.

“Aemond, did you quarrel with Luke?” Mother says, her tone patient in an I-won’t-be-mad-if-you-just-tell-me-the-truth sort of way. “I know…your eye…” She touches her own face, wincing at the memory of how he suffered. “Did you seek restitution of some sort from him? Did you make accusations?”

“We…exchanged some words,” Aemond admits. “And then…when Luke left on Arrax…” There is a lull, and everyone stares at him. “Vhagar and I followed.”

“What?!” Grandsire exclaims. “You threatened Rhaenyra’s son?!”

“I…” Aemond closes his eye, then after a moment opens it again and continues. “It was my intention to frighten him, that was all.”

“Idiot,” Grandsire hisses. “You know better. You’re too well-educated to act like you don’t. Now, that one…” He jabs an accusatory finger at Aegon, who is caught off-guard, what the fuck do I have to do with this?

Criston says, more gently: “That was very dangerous, Aemond.” Mother covers her mouth with one hand and shakes her head. Her long coppery hair hangs in uncombed waves, still tangled from sleep.

“So what happened?” Aegon asks. “Where’d you chase him to? All the way back to Dragonstone? You must have scared him to death.”

Aemond chooses his words with great care and agonizing slowness. “Everything was under control. Then Arrax…he unleashed his flames on Vhagar, and she…she attacked.”

Everyone is silent. After a moment, Grandsire says: “What do you mean she attacked?”

“She…” Aemond gestures vaguely with open hands, hands that have held you, caged you, dragged you, pleased you until you were forged to him like a blade to a hilt. Again, he looks at you, and what is he asking for? Help, empathy, compassion, forgiveness? “She bit Arrax.”

“She wounded him?” Aegon says.

“She devoured him.”

Criston blinks. “So…Arrax is dead, and where is Luke now?”

Aemond laces his fingers together on the table like he’s praying. “He’s…he’s gone.”

“Gone?” Mother echoes.

“Did you look for him?” Grandsire demands. “I mean, did you even bother to search for Luke, or did you just leave him in the Stormlands somewhere? Did he fall into the sea, could he be wandering around in a forest? If Luke is injured, we should send out people to find him. We could hold him as a hostage.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Aemond’s voice is frayed. And now for the first time tonight, you finally know what he’s going to say. Your eyes snag on Aegon’s, and he reads the terror there, and then it hits him too. “There is nothing to search for.”

Mother is gaping at him, the unwanted knowledge seeping in like rain through earth. “Nothing?”

“There is no body. Pieces, perhaps.”

Unspeakable, suffocating dread fills the room, and then Grandsire leaps to his feet and slams his fists down on the table. “Useless!” he roars at Aemond. “Worse than useless, a saboteur, a curse, a plague, you have ruined everything your Mother and I worked for, Rhaenyra was considering our terms and now you’ve condemned us all!”

“You killed Lucerys Velaryon?” Mother says, stunned. Her large dark eyes glisten with unpardonable betrayal. She’ll never look at him the same way again. “You murdered Rhaenyra’s son? A prince, the heir to Driftmark?”

“It wasn’t murder,” Aemond pleads. “It was…it was combat, it was a battle—”

“A battle with that child?!” Grandsire thunders. Helaena begins to cry, and Aegon places a hand on her wrist as his wide eyes dart around the table. “Everyone’s seen him, it’s no secret, and not a single person in the realm would be delusional enough to believe a clash between Vhagar and Arrax was anything but a slaughter!”

“Aemond,” Criston says quietly, appalled, astonished.

Aemond can’t meet his eyes. He peers down at the table, and despite everything—what will happen to us, what will happen to me?—there is an ache in your chest like cracked ribs trying to heal, a profound lightless distress, a ricochet of the pain he’s feeling. “It wasn’t my intention to harm Luke.”

Grandsire shouts: “Did you give Vhagar the order or not?!”

It feels like a long time before Aemond answers. “No.”

“Oh gods,” Criston says as he sinks down in his chair, turning to Alicent. She has hidden her face with both hands and seems to be weeping.

“So you can’t control Vhagar,” Grandsire seethes. “You ride the largest and most dangerous dragon in the world and you can’t stop her from eating people.”

“I never would have purposefully—”

“But you created the situation! You pursued Luke, you tormented him, and surely somewhere in your sick brain you considered that you were endangering his life! And now… now…now Rhaenyra will be merciless, she will never submit, she will endeavor to destroy us all!”

“It will bring more allies to her side,” Criston says. “They will believe she was wronged, and she will wield that weapon to great advantage. She is cunning.”

“What about your family, Aemond?!” Mother sobs, her face a hectic, bloody pink. “You and your brothers will have to go to war, you might be maimed or butchered, and your sisters and I…we could be taken as prisoners, we could be executed for treason!”

“That will never happen,” he swears; but his pale blue eye is misty, and he bites his lips together so they won’t tremble.

Mother is desperate, tears streaming down her cheeks “What can we do, Father? How can we salvage this?”

Grandsire points to you. “She must be wed immediately. We’ve already waited too long.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Aegon says, but no one is listening.

“Mother,” you beg. “Please don’t let them—”

“She will be married to whoever can help us in this,” Grandsire says. “The Lannisters or the Redwynes or the Swanns, perhaps the Butterwells or the Mootons if that will coax them to our side—”

“Then the realm will burn,” Aemond replies darkly, leaning over the table. “But I’ll come knocking on your door first, Grandsire.”

Grandsire looks at him, startled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Shall we find out?”

“Otto, please,” Criston says, holding up a palm. Then he considers how to dissuade him. “All things considered—the military strength that Aemond has brought to our side, the devotion that he has shown this family, present circumstances notwithstanding—he has never asked for much.”

“He asks for the one thing we cannot give him,” Grandsire replies, then turns to you. “What do you think about what Aemond has done? This recklessness, this monstrous error?”

He rarely asks for your opinion about anything. This is not a question but a summons: you are supposed to disavow Aemond. You are the one who can hurt him best. Instead you say, though it’s not what you truly feel: “Luke was an enemy. He perished in combat.”

Grandsire, Mother, and Criston all begin yelling at once. Helaena shrinks into herself, her dragonfly made of oak wood clutched to her chest. Aegon whispers something to her—you can leave, you believe he says—but she shakes her head no. You are stoic as the adults berate and implore you, and perhaps it’s strange that you still think of them that way since you’re an adult now too, and yet…their gravity seems so much heavier than yours, their tethers to the earth overgrown with weeds and moss.

“I’ll gut you myself!” Grandsire screams at Aemond, empty threats woven from helpless terror. “I’ll lock you in the Black Cells, I’ll have you banished to Dorne—!”

“I’ll throw a feast!” Aegon says suddenly, and the others go quiet.

“You’ll what?” Grandsire snarls.

“Little Luke Strong is dead and that’s a victory for our side. There’s no other way to look at it.”

“You intend to celebrate this calamity?”

“What else should we do?” Aegon asks. “Apologize? Go crawling on our bellies to Rhaenyra for forgiveness? No, she’d burn us alive. If it’s done, we must embrace it and use it to bolster our cause as much as possible. It was a battle and a victory. Aemond is a war hero. Onto the next objective.”

“What a disaster,” Criston mutters, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, that might be the only option we have.”

Mother clasps the small seven-pointed star that hangs from the gold chain at her throat. “I must go to the sept. I must pray for our survival.”

Grandsire glowers at Aegon. “You are a humiliation.”

“I am the king. I want a feast.”

Grandsire sighs deeply, pushing his chair away from the table. “I suppose I have letters to write.” And then, to Aemond: “When your sisters are captured and enslaved and married off to whichever Black loyalists will pay Rhaenyra and Daemon the most for them, I trust you’ll remember who’s responsible.”

Aemond gets up and storms out of the small council chamber. Mother mops the tears off her face with the sleeves of her green robe. Criston takes one of her hands and is murmuring promises, assurances, perhaps lies. You, Aegon, and Helaena say nothing. None of you can defend what Aemond has done, but you won’t denounce him either.

Then Grandsire grins at you, a cruel bestial flash of his teeth, an old grizzled animal tough from too many winters, icy wind shrieking through the chambers of its heart. “Oh, are you pretending that you’re not about to run after him?”

You don’t reply. But you rise from the table and flee as Mother watches you, her vast eyes swimming with misery.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a game with five pieces: the green snake, the yellow butterfly, the blue wolf, the red bat, and the purple shadowcat. They chase each other around the board, and if one of the other pieces lands on the same spot as yours then you have to go all the way back to the start.

Daeron is the youngest, but he almost always seems to win; some people are like that, luck flows like a river in their veins. Helaena enjoys playing even if she finished last. Aegon feigns disinterest but never declines an invitation, sliding his snake across the spaces with his index finger between slurps of wine. And sometimes Aemond is ruthless, taking every single opportunity to land on your spot and send your bat hurtling back to the beginning, sawing your legs out from under you, shattering your hopes like glass again and again until you are so frustrated you can feel embers glowing dry and searing in your throat.

But other times, Aemond pretends to misread the dots on the dice so he lands either too close or too far away and you are spared, and if you win he lies and says you deserve it.

~~~~~~~~~~

He is waiting at your bedroom door; when you are close enough to breathe him in, you taste rain and soot. Perhaps—if it isn’t your imagination—you can even detect the coppery tinge of blood, splatters of little Luke Strong soaked into the black leather of his tunic or his coat. You remember that boy you barely knew, more a phantom than flesh, a wraith who stole Aemond’s eye and then was spirited away to Dragonstone to escape retribution, a tiny god who Viserys worshipped from afar the same way he never stopped loving Rhaenyra. All you knew of your father was absence, and this was a sadness but a relief as well, because you could not escape the sense that if he was there you would only disappoint him.

“What is wrong with you?!” you whisper savagely. Aemond smiles and reaches for your face, but you swat his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me. You’re insane, you’re going to get us all killed—”

He drags you into your bedchamber, kicking the door shut behind him. He’s lean but wiry, all muscle, and when you fight him—although you both know you want him to win—it is in vain. He tugs your hair out of its braid and hauls you across the room, pushes you down on the bed, rips off his coat and tunic and then follows you onto the mattress. You clamber away until you hit the headboard, your spine flat against the wood. As he closes in on you, your palm cracks across the blind side of Aemond’s face, and he grins. You have often thought that it should have been reversed, you wed to Aegon and Aemond to Helaena. You would not be so scandalized by Aegon’s vices; Aemond would be chivalrous with a meek, compliant wife. But alas, Helaena was born first, and the arrangement was set in stone long before any of your natures became apparent.

Aemond unfastens your robe and reaches under your nightgown of white cotton. “Open your legs.”

“No.” It is always this way with him; it always has been. You fight and he vanquishes, and both of you enjoy it.

He forces your thighs apart and you moan, the resistance bleeding out of you, you muscles going soft and yielding, Aemond radiant with this clandestine conquest on a night when nothing else is under his control. He can only love you when you’re tamed and tractable. Sometimes you think he likes that you don’t have a dragon, that your egg never hatched, that all of the unclaimed beasts denied you. You will always be vulnerable, powerless, at his mercy.

You cling to Aemond, your arms around his neck. He knows exactly what you need because you’ve already done this, more times than either of you could count: everything besides what could get you pregnant, and not just because Aemond would rather slit his own throat than have bastards like Rhaenyra’s. It’s something you’re both saving until at last you are married, and no one except The Stranger can separate you.

You gasp and Aemond growls through your hair: “Shh. Hurry up.”

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He doesn’t have to say it back; if he hadn’t missed you, he wouldn’t be here right now, two fingers buried to the knuckles and the heel of his hand grinding against you, almost, almost, almost…

The bedchamber door bangs opens, and Aegon saunters in with a goblet of wine, emeralds gleaming on the rim.

“Stop,” you tell Aemond, but he knows you don’t mean it, not really; beneath your nightgown his hand works faster, more roughly. You sigh and kiss him, deep and messy, surrendering, very close.

Aegon takes a swig of wine, licks the stray drops from his lips, and frowns down at you both, slightly intrigued but mostly nauseated. He cannot fathom a hunger for his own.

Aemond looks to him and says casually: “Do you want something?”

“I do, actually,” Aegon replies. “Were you planning to thank me?”

“Thank you for what?”

“For what I did for you in the council chamber, obviously. For the feast.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you, Aegon,” you say, and you are sincere.

Aegon raises his goblet in a mock toast. “That’s very kind, Red, but I wasn’t asking you.”

You whimper against Aemond’s throat, embarrassed but in ecstasy, not able to hold off much longer. “Aemond, just thank him.”

“Well I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment.”

“That’s okay,” Aegon says. “I can wait.” He sits at the end of the bed, then bounces up and down a few times. “Oh, this is a great mattress! Very soft, like sleeping on a cloud! Why isn’t mine this nice?”

“Probably because you’ve ejaculated all over it five thousand times,” Aemond says.

“Oh, right,” Aegon jests. “Not quite that frequently, I think.”

“Aemond,” you plead breathlessly. “Just say thank you. Get rid of him.”

Aemond sighs and, with his hand still beneath your nightgown, turns to Aegon. “Thank you.”

Aegon smirks, mischievous. “And how will you repay me?”

“By overcompensating for your shortcomings in order to ensure the enduring success of our family, as I have done since birth.”

“Of course,” Aegon says, though a bit distantly.

Aemond glances down at you and then asks his brother: “Were you hoping to join us?” It’s not a serious question; if Aegon ever tried to touch you with genuine desire, Aemond would break both his arms. Fortunately, Aegon is the closest thing you’ll ever have to a real brother, and thus his limbs are safe.

Aegon chuckles and stands. “No, this is a bit unsavory, even for my taste.” He gulps the last of his wine and says as he leaves: “Enjoy, freaks.”

“Bye, Aegon,” you call, laughing. He waves and then closes the door behind him.

Seconds later—twenty, thirty, time evaporates like mist burned away at dawn—Aemond is making you come, and then you are yanking off his trousers and taking him in your mouth, and when you do this he always has to be touching you, smoothing back your hair, telling you how well you’re doing, and even though he warns you so you can pull away if you choose to, tonight you swallow every last drop of him and think of the sea that Lucerys Velaryon’s scraps tumbled into, the mineral bite of salt and metal and blood.

But when he finishes, Aemond doesn’t collapse like a dead man as he usually does. He throws you onto your back, licks and nuzzles his way down your breasts and belly, parts your legs and murmurs against the inside of your thigh before he begins again: “I want you, I want you, I want you, I can’t wait much longer.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s one of your earliest memories. You are in the garden, and it’s a blazing hot day, and a million varieties of blooms cut through the greenery: goldenrods, orchids, lilies, irises, daisies, bellflowers, red roses, blue forget-me-nots. Butterflies whirl in the air and land on Helaena’s outstretched fingertips. Grandsire is slapping Aegon and calling him an imbecile for trying to pet a bumblebee, and Aegon is wailing: But it’s fuzzy! Why can’t I hold it?!

You must not be very steady on your feet yet, because Aemond is pulling you up by both of your hands and asking: If I ran, do you think you could catch me?

Yes, you had said, and then you’d staggered after him as he darted into the foliage. Under the shade of blossoms and shrubs that towered so much taller than you, you tripped and fell and scraped your palms, one of them bleeding from striking a pebble. You cried out, but no one was there to pick you up: no Mother, no Criston, no Helaena or Aegon. You wept pitifully, thinking—as children do—that you would be lost forever, that you would never see your family again.

But Aemond came back for you, and he studied your bloodied palm, carefully plucking out every grain of brown soil; and then he kissed it, held it against his cheek, painted himself with the scarlet ink of your arteries and veins.

See? he had said, smiling so you knew everything would be okay. Now we’re both red.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How are the babies?” Aemond asks when he arrives, dressed for the feast in a green tunic embroidered with shimmering gold threads in the shapes of dragons, flying, shrieking, breathing fire. Helaena made it for him, of course. Each of you have wardrobes full of garments she’s sewn, a collection of Aegon’s woodcarvings scattered around your rooms, seashell mosaics hanging from walls: insects for Helaena, Sunfyre for Aegon, heroes from myths for Aemond.

You grin over your shoulder. “Come see them.”

It’s dusk now, so they are leaving the roost you keep in one corner of your bedchamber, covered with dark velvet to blot out light and sound as they slumber. Aemond kneels beside you and holds out his hand so River can scurry from your palm into his, clawing with his hooklike appendages. All of your bats are named after blue things—Blueberry, Sailfish, Clear Sky, Blue Jay, Misty, Dragonfly, Lagoon, Lightning, Kingfisher—just as Aemond’s hawks and war horses are given names like Fox and Rusty and Cherry and Pomegranate. He is the only one who defends your pets when Mother threatens to banish them back to the Godswood or the seaside cliffs. You have no dragon; you must find solace with some other creature that inspires dread and revulsion. But you think they’re beautiful, and strange, and fearless, and wrongly unloved.

“Let’s move things along,” Aegon says as he appears in the doorway, wearing all green except for the Conqueror’s crown. “No one can dig into the roast boar until the guest of honor enters the Great Hall. So I need Aemond to show up immediately.”

“Almost ready,” Aemond replies without looking away from River, who is now scrambling up his forearm. Lighting takes flight and attempts to land on Aegon’s shoulder; Aegon yelps and flings him away.

“No, you can’t!” you say, rushing across the room to scoop up Lightning and cradle him in your arms. Fortunately, he is unharmed. “I told you, Aegon. They have tiny bones, you have to be gentle or you’ll hurt them.”

Aegon shudders. “They’re fucking disgusting. Rats with wings.”

Aemond sets River on the windowsill, goes to his brother, shoves him hard; Aegon’s back hits the wall. His crown is knocked from his head and clatters against the floor.

“I’m not apologizing,” Aegon insists. “I’m a victim of grave injustice. I was attacked. That thing could have bitten me.”

You say to Aemond in High Valyrian: “Should we do this for a while to annoy him?”

Aemond smiles. “Yes. We should talk a lot. A great amount, we should talk. Very much talking.”

“Hey, hey, stop that,” Aegon says.

“Aemond, what else will they serve besides boar?”

“I heard something about pies.”

“What kinds of pies?”

“Who knows. Maybe apple, or cherry, or plum…”

“Oh, I adore apple pies. Perfect for autumn. I could eat them all day.”

“I could eat you all day.”

“Don’t tease me, or we’ll never make it to the feast.”

Aegon is distressed. “I mean it! Stop!”

“They aren’t saying anything important,” Helaena assures him as she swishes into your bedchamber wearing a butter yellow gown. In her hair are gold pins shaped like ladybugs.

“Okay, but what are they talking about?”

Helaena says matter-of-factly: “Sex and pastries.”

Aegon groans and rolls his eyes. “Why did I ask. Okay, time to go.”

You walk together to the Great Hall, where Helaena and Jaehaera and Grandsire will dance in the center of the floor, and you and Aemond will whisper in shadowy corners, and Mother will peer around worriedly with her large watery eyes as Criston yearns to console her, and Aegon will smile patiently and never scold Jaehaerys when he gets underfoot or spills his pomegranate juice.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s another game, or maybe it’s a ritual; you are a little girl again, and every once in a while, without any warning, Aemond will shove you into a closet or a heavy wooden trunk and lock you inside. You will scream and pound on the door, but no one will hear, and you will spend what feels like hours alone in the darkness, wondering if this will be the time when you are not discovered until you have died of thirst and hunger, until there is nothing left but bones.

Then you hear approaching footsteps and Aemond lets you out, and when you strike and scratch at him he embraces you fiercely, like he’s a soldier who’s been away for a year or more; and he holds you until you stop fighting it and your heartbeat goes quiet in your chest.

[skrawnymollusk]

✨ New Spicy Romance Thriller ✨

📖 Title: Afraid of the Dark

💉 In Berlin’s shadowy underworld, Silas Quinn—a man as charming as he is ruthless—works for the city’s most notorious drug lord. When he crosses paths with Dr. Wren Sutton, her quiet life unravels in an instant.

Once a celebrated CIA field agent, Wren left the high-stakes world of espionage behind after a disastrous mission left her scarred both physically and mentally. Turning to alcohol as a crutch, she buried her past in exchange for a quieter existence as a military surgeon.

But when Silas discovers her skills, he sees an opportunity too valuable to ignore. Forced to supply the cartel with her medical expertise, Wren is thrust into a dangerous spiral where refusal isn’t an option—not when the lives of her friends, colleagues, and the remnants of her career are on the line.

Caught between her haunted past and Silas’ dark demands, Wren must summon the strength to navigate the chaos.

Can she break free, or will the collision of her past and present trap her forever in his criminal empire?

🌌 This is for you if you love:

🔸 Gritty, complex characters with dark pasts

🔸 High-stakes tension and morally gray dynamics

🔸 A thrilling blend of danger, romance, and suspense

🔥 Step into the darkness—will Wren escape, or will the shadows claim her?

#AfraidOfTheDark #DarkRomance #RomanticThriller #MorallyGrayCharacters #RomanceWithEdge #IndieAuthor #ThrillerReads

[serene-sun]

𝔐𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔶 𝔇𝔞𝔶 24: “𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭”

Pairing: Aether/mountain

Sum: earth ghouls are very emotional after being summoned

MUSHY MAY BY @forlorn-crows !!!

“He’s crying again,” ifrit says

“Yeah,” Aether sighs as he moves the curtain out of his view of the window again, “He wont come inside either, even when it’s raining.”

“Well, he must come in at some point to eat, just have to wait him out.” Dewdrop says as he also looks out the window.

The newly summoned earth ghoul had been crying under the weeping willow tree for more than two days now. Earth ghouls were known to be extremely personal and protective over friends and family. Just like quintessence ghouls, they held deep bonds with things they loved. So it was a point to time they called “the weeping willow phase” of when the earth ghoul mourned the loss of both their habitat and their people.

It could be hard for them to find a new beloved, so this period would last until they bonded with their new pack mates.

“He doesn’t have to eat, remember?” Ifrit nods as he unfolds his arms, “Earth ghouls are so stubborn, they always find a way to outgrow their issues but still get so emotional.” He says as he puts a hand on aethers back, motioning that he was leaving.

After Ifrit left, Dewdrop looked up to Aether, “What are we going to do? It was easy to bond with Ivy because he didn’t like all of the ants getting on him so he stayed inside. But I’m afraid our new friend will run off.”

“I know…” Aether sighed again as his vision relaxed into the golden red sky that caressed the ministry as the sun started to fall into the mountains.

“I’m not the best at….talking….but you-“ Dewdrop thought, “I mean you were kind of made for talking to others.” The water ghoul smiled awkwardly, they weren’t the best at talking one on one as most of them were either shy or anxious if not both.

“I’ll talk to him, just tell Papa that we’re still trying before he gives up on us.” Aether chuckled at the end, he rubbed the base of his horn in frustration on the situation.

Terzo was a great leader, but he was known to grow impatient rather quickly.

“It’s getting a little chilly out here, why don’t you come inside?” Aether said softly as he walked up to the earth ghoul.

With a flinch, the whimpering ghoul peaked a teary eye out of his tucked arms from his knees. He looked at aether, not with fear, with sadness as another cry strung out of his sore throat.

A gently breeze hushed the sounds of the ministry as the long strand of vine and leaf from the willow tree blew like hair in the gentle summer breeze, Aether kneeled down beside him.

“I know it’s difficult, but you must continue.” Aether said with a frown as he placed a hand on the ghouls shoulder.

The earth ghoul was large, tall as a matter of fact and long eyelashes that collected his tears of his puffy eyes. The ghouls hair was dark, a sort of brown that shifted green highlight in the flittering light of the setting sun. Skin, a neutral green with darker pigmented spots as his veins showed through his pale skin like small vines that blended in with the moss that spread across his finger tips and around his joints. His ears pointed, many chips and cuts that covered him like a story book. His eyes were a piercingly soft purple like a cluster of amethyst. The earth ghoul curled up into a ball more as he rubbed his nose, a tear falling down the apple of his cheek.

Aether sat beside him against the hunk of the tree, “if you come inside, I will get you better clothes and you wont have to get all wet from the rain like you did last night.”

The ghoul couldn’t deny that sounded wonderful, but he couldn’t get the images of his life in the pit out of his memory. But something urged him to let a hand slowly fall from his own embrace and trail down into the dirt to pick one of the flower bulbs. He held it in his hand gently, brining it up beside Aethers face as it suddenly bloomed a white blossom that swirled with life as it paralleled the quintessential ghouls white iris.

Aether was amazed a little, his heart fluttered and ached for the sadness dripping from the ghouls aura, soiling the soil and atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful, we have plenty of plants in the greenhouse.” Aether strikes a conversation, “But tell me, why must you stay attached to this fair tree?”

He lays the flower back on the ground, the bloom quickly fading as his touch leaves the plant.

“Salix Babylonica,” the ghoul finally speaks a soft but deep whisper as he rubs a tear from his porcelain face, “Mountain is covered with them this time of year.”

“Your right, they are,” Aether smiles as he looks up the tree and it’s branches draped with green, “Mountains, like you, are very strong and steady.”

The earth ghoul shakes his head, “I was I was like a mountain, sturdy and responsibility, beautiful and peaceful.” He traces a root in the ground with his finger, “But im not, im emotional and unwise.”

“I simply doubt that, if anything i think you are more a mountain than any other earth ghoul I’ve met.” Aether says, placing his hand on the ghouls

Earth looks up at Aether, “I’m not sad to loose my life in the pit, I never knew anyone there who was nice.” He admits solemnly.

The quintessence ghoul looks at him with pity, he knew the pit was rough even fore ghouls, “Then why must you weep?”

“I’m sad because I don’t have anything to loose, and now I must live in a world where there is more life to remind me of how lonely and out of place I am.” He says, letting down his guard now that aether was that close to him.

Earth ghouls were usually very short and small, smaller than water ghouls. He was abandoned from his pack due to them thinking he was a water ghoul for his height and quick growing hair.

“That doesn’t matter now, if I had room to say amongst all of the people here than id say you fit perfectly among these misfits we call ourselves.” Aether laughed softly as he stood up, “Come, I think you would enjoy some fresher clothes.”

Earth stood up with a soft smile, “If you say so, but…I don’t even have a name..how will i belong?”

“I think I found one,” Aether says as he takes his hand and walks with him on the brick path to the ghoul quarters.

“I think Mountain is a great name,”

[lephamquynhnhu]

Panacea

Chapter 7 (End): Beyond the Promised Sky

Dan Feng x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: The reader has a default name, OOC, mentioned blood, violence. (This is a work of fanfiction, events are not aligned or relevant to the original work)

Word count: 3k4

Summary: He met you on a drizzling day when hydrangea fully bloomed on its field. Amidst the sea of mild pastel petals, Dan Feng never thought the flowery domain that intertwined your fate was the precise thing withered with you. They said he was a dragon, a hero, a sinner, but never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, or joy like everyone else in this world. However, it was a demi-truth. He committed the cardinal sin because of you.

Note: For the first line, I express my special thanks to Dr.Lecter in the Hannibal series for being a valuable reference in this chapter. Secondly, I am glad I finished Panacea at another crucial moment since I got an offer letter as a Villa host in a five-star resort. Finally, thank you for following this fanfic.

Do you like...depression?

From the pitch-dark space emerged a pair of brunette eyes dotted with a brightened yellow hue. The monster stinks like grave soil and corpses, causing a death emanation marries with a cunning aura that gives off those pupils, making cold sweat cascade along his spine like a dewdrop.

"I can smell your fear, little dragon." - The prison starts when his whole body comes to light. A gigantic embodiment with six raven wings, limbs full of sharp claws like cathedral spears, and scales on his torso play as invincible armor.

"I am not afraid of you." - Dan Feng calmly places the document on the table and settles his seat, staring back with his bleak green eyes. By guaranteeing the current heart pulse is eighty per second, Imbibitor Lunae ascertains that his condition matches the requirements.

"I didn't claim that; instead, you fear losing someone." - "The scent of Mimosa accompanied by Stephania for a tranquilizer and mistletoe plus Datura metel for the patient with epilepsy. Besides, I can sniff a vague blood smell on your sleeves. You must be absolutely desperate to wield the traditional approach to lengthen their lifespan when Cloudhymm is powerless." - The monster sniggers, his sinister smile spreading unto the earlobes to unravel abnormal canines. Primus Immortus may be evil, yet he is still an excellent apothecary with sensitive olfaction. Therefore, he can detect advantageous traces. However, Dan Feng remains silent with decorum, and his stern expression behind the cell is unreadable.

On the other hand, Primus Immortus is pleased with the end of his filthy soul because he has never drunk anything sublime like the sorrow of the High Cloud quintet. His nutrition is savoring people's misery. Like a hound, Immortus can sniff woes from the High Elder's irises handily obscured beneath the solemn mantle. He would like to play around the bush and pull more strings, yet his other side stops him punctually to secure the plan he is brewing. Primus Immortus decides to cooperate and comply with Dan Feng's testimony in exchange for the spanking sip he took because he knows he is the controller.

After the chaotic occurrence, Dan Feng received a poem that followed him via a micrometer of the security door. Echoing every corner of the shadowy corridor is a sarcastic treble.

"Amaranthine dawn shines through

Blushing clouds,

O willow-silk rain,

Blasting confederate roses."

The Long Scion exasperatedly slams the document on the table, and his chair shrieks in displeased noise as he takes the seat. Dan Feng has long forgotten the last time he was infuriated like this, and those cursed eyes keep haunting his mind when he is writing the report. That doomed prison was manipulating his emotions like a puppet while Dan Feng received a dump of garbage. Nonetheless, the topic Immortus mentioned hitting at Imbibor Lunae's bullseye just by a whiff nay, he hates to admit that Primus Immortus was right. He is hopeless.

After a couple of weeks, your condition has increased to a critical point, and the current treatment barely satisfies his purpose. Your aging process arises tremendously combined with Alzheimer and age-related macular degeneration. Moreover, you are even incapable of changing clothes or doing daily tasks, and the epilepsy is now unable to be depressed. The scenario of withered begonia beside your dressing table compared with your aging complexion beneath the pale moonlight. Those things lead him to a dead end.

The black ink spreads bolder and bolder, contrasting with underneath white papers as the High Elder immersed in wandering thought, then a pair of brunette irises with a light amber hue reappears and blends into the hollow void until his brush pan breaks in half as a token to snap him back to reality. In the dim light of his office, a sliver of thin incense smoke undulates around the space and tenderly swirls at his untouched document with a parallel line "North obligation. Absolute death is reverse." Imbibitor Lunae leaves a heavy sigh to review the conversation between him and Dan Shu at the medicine library. She handed the High Elder an ancient scroll of practicing black arts - an approach to ascend Zhen Ren, a higher being that can reach Nirvana to obtain an elixir without concocting.

"How do you...know?" - He clenched his sleeve, hiding his astonishment behind the limitless bookshelves while Dan Shu feigned to browse her file along the Braille, her snowy skin tone fingertips kissed book spines like a scanner as she relied.

"We handicapped always have other summit senses when losing another. Thus, I am able to read your energy. It is turbulent as an abyssal despair. You are going to lose someone, and you can't do anything. The search statistic of Liberian shows that you are trying to look for a unique recipe even though you attempted to deceive the system."

She stopped her line and pulled out a large book covered with leather and golden letters. "Your aura reminds me of my old wound, so I decided to help you. However, this is as far as I could help, and may good fortune always find your journey. " - Dan Shu then left like the wind.

On the last day of Primus Immortus, he probably is sick of the testimony questions and does not cooperate with Dan Feng anymore. Instead, he suggests a quid-pro-quo to gain "dignified" answers that Imbibitor Lunae accepts abruptly. Behind the ironic bars, Immortus seems to enjoy every moment of this trade-off game since his raven swings shaking and massive claws rake at the tense atmosphere when he listens to Dan Feng's childhood.

"What a tragic fate." - Primus Immortus monologues and eyes the opposite person - "Growing up with the destined mission and carrying the name of the High Elder through countless ages. Building up and bringing out the name of the High-Cloud quintet to this cosmos, plus witnessing its fall. But alas, you will eventually lose the one who sees you as Dan Feng."

"Does she remember your name? How does it feel when you kiss her?" - The monster adjusts his volume as the Long Scion is still busy scribbling his precedent answers, and the vibe changes rapidly. Cyan orbs sparkling like a torch illuminate all features of his countenance, a warning to remind Immortus has crossed the line because the marshall or a judge might hear their little play-game. Nonetheless, he is pleased with Dan Feng's reaction as his saliva rolls down and drops to the ground. Moreover, if there were not Celest Gold restraining his swings, people could hear the sound of swings behind the cell. Primus Immortus vigilantly stares back to watch how deep his string roots at the High Elder's soul.

"I have the last needed element to aid you in achieving your wish, Little Dragon. It will grant you the primal power equals Permanence." - He lowers his voice with vicious eyes glowing under the dark bangs and awaits the crackling spirit. Conversely, Imbibitor Lunae closes his tabs and readily leaves the cell, indicating that his heart is as solid as Marmorean. Looking at Dan Feng's retreating figure blending into the corridor, the monster reveals his last trump card:

"What if I said Zhen Ren could drink up the four seas?"

To Primus Immortus' expectation, the High Elder's footstep gives a halt as his heart pulse is immovable for a millisecond when hearing that sentence. He knows love affairs may not be enough to convince Imbibitor's fall, yet it will make a difference with the topic of compatriot.

Saving the Vidyadhara race is a proper reason to unlock the black arts.

However, Dan Feng merely breathes out and marches toward the security door without a glance, leaving behind his resonating footsteps from afar.

"How wick." - a familiar metallic voice reverberates at the unfathomable depth of the Premilinary Prison as Primus Immortus amuses himself without looking up at the frontal man. His white chignon is tied hard by a Dalbergia hairpin and remains motionless like a marble monument while a scarlet pupil glows amidst unstable light. Although half of his face emerges in the pitch-black dark, no one is unaware of his position.

Yinxing from the High-Cloud Quintet demanded an informal appointment with Primus Immortus.

He slowly detaches an electronic bug at the table's edge and smashes his hand-made device into dust: "What is in exchange for your 'last element'?"

The monster looks excited as hearing another member of the legendary team exploit his secret. A group of esteemed figures created illustrious feats and miracles for everyone but themselves, so their misery is holly nectar to Immortus, and occurrences are flowing as his scheme. The ivory canines spread across his twisted face when he speaks.

"What a pity. You are ineligible to operate 'that thing' properly. Only a descendant with a divine bloodline grants the privilege of touching it, and I already have had my things. However, if you successfully convince Little Dragon, you both may attain your joint target."  

Just as Primus Immortus expected, Yinxing's mind wavers like a dribble of water to cause a micro crackle in his spirit, and a triumphant smile stretches on his maniacal face. After the blink of an eye, everything is upside down as the blurring surroundings are confused into another timeline. Standing beside him are the rest of the High-Cloud Quintet, and Yinxing could say they are different yet the same people simultaneously. They wear unusual uniforms while idly chattering about ordinary topics under the cement ground with crowded transportation. To Yinxing, this scene seems peaceful, a surreal life that is too good to be true. As a result, he swings his sword to tear the unfolding illusion, but a flow of smoke lingers at his blade.

The girl who shares Bai Heng features said they nestle in the body of an Outer God, and she is the Paradox Guardian - named Dao Zhen - a doppelganger of Bai Heng from the other world. She exposes that this timeline used to exist but was erased because the history selected and ramified. Immortus possesses a kind of mystic eyes playing the role of an alien door leading to another Dimension by hypnotizing Yinxing and extracting a fragment of his conscience into an Outer God's body.

"If you stay with me permanently, we can live in any possible context." - She whispers beside Yinxing's earlobe and intertwines her fingers - "You love this face, don't you?'' - A cold exhale sweeps through as Dao Zhen grazes her nose against his collar, she tries to orientate him to become a second Guardian; as for Yinxing perspective, he finds it is a dilemma yet he decides to bare the sword to clarify his decision.

"Fight me if you dare! I will resurrect her and rebuild the High-Cloud Quintet. Not living in your cheap illusion arts." - He conceded Dan Feng in testimony privilege since he has never been into mundane activities in prison. Hence, Yinxing vaguely learned his unpublished situation. They can become an antagonist duo like Primus Immortus suggested.

The blade slashes Dao Zhen's afterimage and causes a space-shifting while his sword tip points at her and eventually claims his victory after an intense battle. Yinxing sees Dao Zhen vomit a wooden box and turns into black mud flowing toward his heels.

Abruptly, a recognizable ceiling of a clinic appears in front of his eyesight while gripping an exquisite carving box.

Light still shines brightly at the Artisanship Commission despite the darkness covering the sky in a black mantle because there will be a massive parade to welcome a new Yaoqing general called Feixiao. The former presider was assassinated when he traveled with his wife in a hot spring, but Her Ladyship is missing. Many rumors vine around and wander in their vicinity, yet Feixiao apropos quenched and controlled them.

Listing ordnance, checking the quality of gunpowder, and solidifying human resources remain coursing vibrantly before the kick-off event. People even could hear the sledgehammer of blacksmiths from afar.

Meanwhile, Yinxing and Dan Feng are discreetly confronting each other at the Fyxestroll Garden.

"You don't wish the High-Cloud Quintet to return to its renaissance?" - his reprimanded voice arouses the placid serenity between them since Imbibitor Lunae selected another path.

"It is a part of history, and we must respect the past. Stop striving to rewrite it like a moth to a flame because death cannot resurrect. Seeking immortality is illegal." - the Long Scion intends to turn his back and march forth, yet his heels halt when Yinxing reveals his buried secret.

"Although the Yaoqing has forfeited their wanted poster, they will pay seven trillion credits for Bai Lin's head, plus executioners will continuously send out to chase her to every galaxy corner. Furthermore, Feixiao is also here."

"I don't know what are you... " - an explosion swiftly roars through the inky sky from the Artisanship Commission, interrupting Dan Feng's sentence. A red-orange hue burns radiantly at a corner, and charcoal fumes flare up violently. Neither do they present punctually, nor do they put out the fire with ordinary water. The oil and gas will aggravate the situation; in addition to this plight, numerous Vidyadhara people assemble crowdedly for the parade - the last straw of limit breakthrough.  

"Zhen Ren can drink up the four seas." - the High Elder stares at the Paradox box in his hand while Yinxing repeats an accustomed clause.

They are standing at the center of an invisible hexagon made from six Suppression Towers and ready to practice black arts. Inside the Paradox box is a pair of Mystic Eyes of a deceased Abundance Emanator, which is eligible to open the Supremacy Boundary to ascend the Long Scion and become a higher being. The left eye is a mirror to look through the past, and the right one is the key to unlocking the pruning future. To rewrite reality and unleash that power, they need to feed it with all heliobi in the Suppression Towers.

Dan Feng and Yinxing should have succeeded if they had complied with the Five Element Order.

"North obligation. Absolute death is reverse."

The hexagon's apex must face northward, yet they did not notice the line in Dan Feng's ancient scroll that led to a retrorse geometry against the feng shui order, causing the Grand Calamity to befall Loufu. The supposed door turned into a mirror that reflects the Backside of this world, drawing fantastic monsters to come through. Thousands of mythological creatures, demonic monsters, even Abundance abominations belligerent and wild beasts with Evil Dragons acting as their leader, descended upon Xianzhou, and the mirror is like a black hole hanging over the firmament with lethal levin.

On that day, no one dares to reminisce or talk about that appalling scene, and nobody records the precise duration of the catastrophe. They only remember the death toll with injured victims was unbearable, thousands of missing people. On top of that, the monsters' blood caused acid rain, melting agricultural fields and paralyzing their trading traffic, which caused all economic activities to stagnate. To mobilize all resources, Jing Yuan procrastinated the Ten-Lords Commission's warrant and approved the duel culprits Yinxing - Dan Feng temporarily attending Luofu's frontier. Additionally, he requested military assistance from other Xianzhou ships to block the Backside mirror.

"I have another personal affair to do. Please, leave me three hours, then I will present before the judges." Imbibitor Lunae grits his teeth to press each word as if gathering the last ounce of his strength to prevent crumbling.

Under the lonesome Exalting Sanctum's ruin, Hanya and Xueyi only stay still amidst the sound of silence.

Until the Long Scion intends to throw away his pride and kneels before two sisters, they timely stop him and accept his favor. As a result, the twisted fate between you two is going to its epilogue.

A feather noise accidentally wakes you up from your slumber, which is followed by a soft fabric rustle. You attempt to mouth your words, but none of the names lingers in your mind, and the fragileness sounds weaker than you expected. All your vital energy seemingly ebbs away as you watch inky shadow prints on the wall. Dan Feng's countenance quickly shifts from concern to rest assured as a dissipating cloud when he sees you are safe and sound after the turmoil (Maybe the forest's mythopedia is true). You wonder why he acts so weirdly as rushing to capture your wilt frame into his embrace, and the nose bridge presses against your nap coldly while Dan Feng's hot breath fans over your baby hair unstably. Although you no longer recognize this man, a comfortable warmth radiating from him is half acquainted, half foreign, and you realize the High Elder is quivering.

His clothed back soaks with sweat as your hand brushes the long locks, fingertips gently touching the fancy fabric pattern. A short-lived memory enlightens your foggy mind after a few stroking, bringing back a feeble sunray in your opaque irises.

"Ah...I remember who you are. Dan Feng, isn't it? It looks like I just woke up from a long dream." - He does not answer or proceed to any conversation, or in other words, his throat is stuck with a fiery lump, just inhaling the mild white tea fragrance in your hair as though mesmerizing it into his soul.

"I want to watch the dawn with you." - Your respiratory is getting weaker and unstable when resting your head against his firm chest.

"Can we wait until you get better?" - Dan Feng contemplates the gray sky beyond your window as a flock of birds flies across the hermitical horizon. However, he quickly surrenders your stubbornness afterward. The High Elder carries you towards the usual spot - an eminence used to sightseeing in your pasture.

The coziness from his exhale thawing the thin frost on your senile face wakes you up from a short nap. The purplish canvas tinge with a rosy hue and pastel orange color while dewy grass dances in morning winds, you two quietly await the rising sun. Your eyes shimmer in amazement when seeing old comrades standing afar and wavering hands toward your side. The sun shines around them like crowning a laurel halo.

"It...is impossible. Regardless of your wraith, I am happy to see you guys again." - You mutter under your breath as Irene wags her wedding bouquet, and Huang Yuan offers his hand to you while Pumpkin shakes his tail.

Nevertheless, your jubilance does not last long after a blink of an eye when the surroundings disappear into voidness, rendering your sightless eyes in which you do not feel any regrets backlog in your heart.

"Why do you look so sad, Feng?" - Your wilt hands full of freckles like a root trace his features to sense his sentiment.

"No, I am just..." - your hopeless motion abruptly intercepts the Long Scion's half-baked lie as you draw closer to give him one last kiss - "I couldn't wait for the next Autumn..." - However, you never get a chance to complete the line because your soul leaving even faster and the kiss forever falling on his shoulder.

Dan Feng dumbfoundedly gazes at the dazzling dawn and needs several seconds to process what is happening.

He desperately calls your name to wake you up but does not receive any response. Like a madman, Imbibitor Lunae carries your limp body toward the hydrangea garden and finally collapses from exhaustion. Amidst the sea of shriveling flowers, a useless person cradles his lover in anguish while the browny flower balls waver in soft breezes.

"Somebody....Somebody please save my Bai Lin!"

But alas, only the cricket chirping and leaves rustling sing your requiem. The sky is getting brighter, plus cotton clouds nonchalantly trekking across a pair of emerald orbs, and it is not raining. But why does water keep cascading on his face? Why can he not save his loved one even though he committed Ten Unpardonable Sins? Individuals often pray to them to be endowed with grace, but whom will he pray to?

After your death, the man who sees the world possesses an unparalleled power to traverse clouds and bestow rain, shaping forms as the world's of essence beckon, has already decided his fate. If he can not save you, Dan Feng will die with you.

Endnote: Alright! Who dies next? Gepard or Argenti?

[simpsforwomen]

hello helloooo, i may send this request to other authors (only my favorites tho)

could you do a wednesday addams x gn! reader where the reader can stop time but anyone who is touching them will not be frozen? so like the reader is just like "hey wednesday,(or whatever nickname they have for her) come with me for a sec" and it obviously takes a bit of begging but then they go outside in the rain or snow and the reader just grabs wednesdays hand and puts the other hand up and stops time so the snow or rain just sits there in mid air. could probably make this super fluffy

-C<3

✧ reply: Hewo! Thank you for your request. I'm honored to be one of the authors you're sending this to. I hope I'm understanding the prompt correctly and that this piece is close to what you asked for <3

❦ 𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗿

✧ warnings: n/a

✧ pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x gn!reader

✧ summary: (request)

✧ word count: 534

✧ a/n: this my first attempt writing something fluffy. i feel so bad for making you wait this long. i'm also working on a fluffy larissa fic so stay tuned hehe. please let me know if you notice any grammatical errors or if you have any comments/feedback. enjoy!

☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎

You and Wednesday have been dating for a few months now and even though she knew of your powers, you never really showed them to her.

It was a wonderful winter morning when you looked outside at the falling mixture of rain and snow, suddenly coming up with an idea. You headed over to your girlfriend's dorm and knocked gently. A few moments later, you were met with a familiar deadpan stare.

"Cara mia." Wednesday greeted you while moving to the side, 'welcoming' you in.

"Good morning, ma chérie." You smiled, stepping inside.

Looking around, you notice that Enid was most likely sleeping over at Yoko's and you had interrupted your girlfriend's writing time. As you sat on her bed, she immediately went back to her desk to be in front of her typewriter.

"So..." You started. "I was thinking, we could take a walk together in the snow."

"Not right now. We can in exactly 34 minutes and 22 seconds." Wednesday answered as she continued to type without hesitation.

"But-" You were cut off before you could say another word.

"(Y/N), we can later." She stated softer than you expected.

"Pleaseee? I'm afraid it'll be too rainy later and- and the rain will wash away all the fluffy snowww." You pouted, walking over to sit on the ground next to her. "Pleaseee?" You begged, gently tugging on her sweater.

Wednesday had a soft spot for you, so of course, she agreed.

"Fine." The sound of typing suddenly stopped when she finally turned to face you.

Standing up, she walked towards the door with you following not too far behind. And in just a few minutes, the two of you were already outside—holding hands.

"Don't let go okay?" You asked and she nodded, having an idea of what you were going to do next.

Taking a deep breath, you focused on your powers and lifted your free hand. All of a sudden, everything around you froze. Everything except Wednesday.

Admiring the frozen snow, she reached out to touch it with her finger. You watched as she looked at it in awe.

"I'm very impressed, (Y/N)" Wednesday turned to you, her eyes wide.

You knew that was her way of showing excitement so you smiled back.

"I'm glad you like it. I've been practicing. You stated proudly.

Leaning closer to you, she gave you a gentle kiss as you held her face with your delicate fingers. It was short and sweet.

You looked into her softened eyes, her dark—dark eyes, losing yourself in them. "You look gorgeous, mon amour..."

She almost let the corners of her lips curl up to that but she tugged at your hand instead. "Come, I want to show you a favorite spot of mine."

Following her, she led you to sit under a snowy willow tree. Laying in her lap, she caressed your hair while whispering words of affection.

"Aren't you glad you stopped writing to be with me?" You asked softly, looking up at her.

Wednesday leaned down to give you a kiss, one that was longer than you expected—not that you were complaining. "I wouldn't miss being with you for the world, querida."

[loosescrewslefty]

Hello! I want to write some fanfiction, but I want your help. How would you describe Raine's personality?

Raine strikes me as a character who knows themselves, and is comfortable in their own skin. Going through the motions of performing for others because it's demanded of them annoys and irritates them, because they don't care for attention, glory, or popularity. They aren't shy-- when something interests them, they usually are quite bold about pursuing it-- but they don't have the social spoons to play nice with people who don't interest them. They're an introvert, but not the shrinking wallflower variant that everyone assumes an introvert is and more of the person who gets begrudgingly dragged to a party by their more social friends and spends the night lurking in a dark corner with one eye on the clock counting down the seconds until this crap is over and they can go home to decompress. Their social circle is VERY small, VERY exclusive, and extremely dear to them since it's hard to find people who are tolerable for long periods of time, let alone actually LIKABLE.

I like imagine that Raine has developed two different 'faces' so to speak. The public 'face' for work, where they are a brilliant, polite, but slightly distant professional who gets things done as quickly and efficiently as possible (so they can retreat to a private space and decompress as quickly as they possibly can) and a private 'face' that only those close to them get to see, where they are goofier, cockier, and much freer with their opinions and views than they normally are. Raine also can sometimes rub people the wrong way because they don't play the Modesty Game. They know what they are good at and how to play to their strengths, and isn't afraid to be honest about that. This annoys a lot of people because rules of social engagement dictates that you have to humble yourself, because if you don’t that means you're stuck up or full of yourself and arrogance is seen as a bad trait when combined with talent. Raine isn't interested in wasting their time playing that game. They can go through the motions, to get through all the annoying parts as quickly and painlessly as possible, but they only do as much as they have to, and they are internally ROASTING everyone around them the entire time.

This is part of the reason they clicked so well with Eda so quickly. Eda is very much the same in this regard, which makes conversing with her much more enjoyable because Raine doesn't have to waste their energy trying to figure out what Eda ACTUALLY means or how she really feels, because Eda wears it all on her sleeve (until the curse came in and muddled the waters, at any rate).

Raine has a very strong sense of justice and is extremely firm on their moral compass. They don't care about the written word of Law. They judge right and wrong for themselves on a case-by-case basis, taking into account all the grey areas involved, and they do not stand by idly if something isn't fair. They are every bit as feral as Eda in this regard, but are a little better at keeping their cards close to their vest. They can actually PLAY the game, rather than immediately jumping across the table, punching their opponent in the face, then grabbing the entire pot and running out the door like someone set their hair on fire.

(They CAN do it that way. And, admittedly, it's more fun when they do get to let loose like that, but they're able to weigh the risks against the rewards and bide their time waiting for the right moment to act.)

On a personal level, I actually like considering the idea that Raine has the same type of Magical Neurodivergence we see in characters like Willow, Gus, and Alador. Magically, they are hyperfocused on a very specific field of study, excelling at that magic to the point of being considered prodigious. Socially, they are a little left of the crowd. They can be polite if the need calls for it, but for the most part they prefer to keep to a small social circle and are very choosey about who gets to be in that circle. Because of this, it wouldn't surprise me at all to find that Raine also has the ability to make their eyes glow.

A lot of this is part speculation, part projection, and part observation by watching Raine's behavior and interactions with others, which is sadly quite limited. If you are looking to write their character in a more in depth level, I fully encourage you to go back and map out their place in your story by writing out what you know to be important to them, where you can see them struggling, what their goals are, and why they are motivated to reach those goals. Having those points are usually a good place to start writing from, and once you move forward with your work, a lot of time you find yourself learning who they are as a character is while you work with them.

[honeyhotteoks]

hey chai!! tysm for the 4 updates I loved it so much,, I hope everything is going well for you because I'm sure your writing is helping a lot of us <33 anyways I'm curious about your thoughts about everyone scents including woosanhwa I don't know if you've stated it and I just missed it but yea I hope you have a great day as always and remember to drink water!! <33

oh thank you so much!!! all of their scents are subtly included, but some are more obvious than others for sure. here's a little break down of all our main characters and their scent notes, but as a note.... scents change a bit depending on who's breathing it in and scents change with emotions or biological shifts. i include some thoughts about that below too! --

reader: chamomile tea, willow sap, & honey; when reader is in heat or aroused, the honey scent is much stronger, and when she's feeling really upbeat, joyful, there's hints of clean lemon zest. the willow is subtle, but a little sharp in it's medicinal almost wintergreen scent, it's one of those smells that you either love or you hate, but mingi and yunho both love.* when she's afraid, her scent turns bitter like over-steeped tea. if reader were to be pregnant, her scent would turn a little milkier, like tea with sweet cream and honey. yunho: rain / wet earth, cedar, & clarysage; when yunho is trying to comfort reader or draw her in with his scent, it's much more of a true petrichor / wet earth scent. when he's aroused or in a rut the cedar is stronger and more masculine, but underneath both of those tones is a bit of a sweeter/herbal tone with the sage. to reader, his scent really pulls like a comforting childhood memory that makes her feel safe and secure. mingi: dark chocolate, cinnamon & pink peppercorn; when mingi is angry, aroused, or in a heightened emotional state the cinnamon really shines for him, but when he's in a calmer or comforting state it's more chocolate and cocoa. the pink peppercorn is something that is only really caught when you're close, something undefinable that enhances the sweetness and the spice, but is undeniably mingi. seonghwa: freshly brewed coffee, jasmine, & pear; seonghwa to me lives in a beautiful space between masculine and feminine energy and his alpha scent is reflective of that. warm and strong coffee is ever present, but jasmine really comes forwards with those he's comfortable with or aroused by. pear is sweeter and more decadent and comes to the front when he's with san especially. san: jasmine, sandalwood, & oakmoss; san and seonghwa's scents are intentionally complimentary, but san's scent undertones are more masculine and 'alpha' like compared to his jasmine top note. he's floral and fresh, bright and energizing, but a scent that deepens in masculine complexity the closer you are to him. when he's comfortable and relaxed, the warmth and natural notes of oakmoss are more present. wooyoung: linen, salt, & green apple; wooyoung's scent is fresh and bright, evoking something clean and summery. when he's in heat, the apple scent turns a bit caramelized and sweet, but normally his scent is more even and calming with the linen and salt being forward in tone. to reader, his scent also calls to mind a memory more than distinct scents, and she and others often associate his unique blend with the last days of summer sun in august.

*note on reader's scent: admittedly, my inspiration for reader's scent was directly taken from one of my favorite books, a discovery of witches by deborah harkness. the full quote is below because i think it's so lovely and this line often gets stuck in my head:

"You smell of willow sap. And chamomile that has been crushed underfoot. There's honeysuckle and fallen oak leaves, too, along with witch hazel blooming and the first narcissus of spring. And ancient things - horehound, frankincense, lady's mantle. Scents I thought I'd forgotten."

[velarisnightsky444]

✨assigning taylor swift songs to each of my acotar ocs✨

this is purely self indulgent. ignore this if you want lol i just thought it would be fun. i'll also add who the song would be about in their lives

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ::･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Astraea(Dark Paradise)(Astraea x Nesta) her story: ao3 // wattpad

Songs Castles Crumbling Nothing New my tears ricochet Anti-Hero The Great War

About Nesta The Way I Loved You Jump Then Fall Untouchable Come in With the Rain The Other Side of the Door Forever Winter Delicate Gorgeous New Years Day Lover Afterglow Snow on the Beach State of Grace

About Luna Breathe Bigger Than The Whole Sky

About Saphira Never Grow Up Safe and Sound

About Demetri You All Over Me Clean mad woman no body no crime Would've Could've Should've

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ::･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Evelina(Stargirl)(Evelina x Azriel) her story: ao3 // wattpad

songs: Fifteen 22 The Lucky One The Man the last great american dynasty this is me trying Vigilante Shit The Bolter

About Elio Picture to Burn Cold as You Should've Said No White Horse Tell me Why You're Not Sorry Dear John I Knew You Were Trouble All Too Well Is It Over Now? tolerate it happiness The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

About Eden tis the damn season dorothea ivy Maroon High Infidelity

About Azriel seven Stay Beautiful Fearless Love Story Today was a Fairytale Innocent Begin Again You Are in Love Don't Blame Me So It Goes... King of my Heart I Think He Knows Paper Rings peace Labyrinth But Daddy I Love Him Guilty as Sin? I Can Fix Him(No Really I Can) So High School

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ::･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mariangela(Cherry Blossom)(Mariangela x Feysand) her story: ao3 // wattpad

songs: The Albatross I Hate it Here Tied Together with a Smile When Emma Falls in Love The Archer mirrorball hoax thanK you aIMee

About Tamlin(with some lyric changes) You're Losing Me Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? Peter

About Feyre Teardrops on my Guitar You Belong with Me Speak Now Wildest Dreams willow Lavender Haze Sparks Fly

About Rhys Superstar Superman Stay Stay Stay Starlight ...Ready For it? Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

About Feyre and Rhys I'm Only Me When I'm With You Ours Timeless Holy Ground This Love "Slut!" Dress Call It What You Want invisible string Sweet Nothing

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ::･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Samara(How to Disappear)(Samara x Morrigan) her story: ao3 // wattpad

songs: The Outside Invisible Foolish One the lakes evermore right where you left me You're On Your Own, Kid

About Mor Mine Enchanted I Can See You Treacherous The Very First Night Style I Know Places Dancing With Our Hands Tied Cruel Summer Cornelia Street illicit affairs

About Nesta The Best Day The Last Time

[crimeronan]

I’m new here and seeing a lot of your princess Luz AU, but idk what it’s about really or what’s going on. Is there a master post somewhere?

oh hi!!

i don't have a tumblr master post but i do have an ao3 series, four complete fics so far (56k words total). i'm talking about that universe. keep in mind that the fics are horror-based and much more serious than a lot of the shitposts here.

but this is a good time to put all the important bits of AU canon in one place! so consider this a quick exposition masterpost.

the premise:

luz wandered into the isles when she was four or five years old. she was subsequently caught and taken to belos, who decided to raise her as his heir bc, yknow. god must have brought this human to him. eyeroll emoji

a variety of horrific events unfold, which eventually lead to luz killing belos & taking the throne herself when she's nearly 17. with the intention of eventually dismantling the empire. all of this is pretty awful and traumatic for her, it's.... not a fun time. i CAN write a summary of the horrors if you want but it would have to be a whole separate post

other characters' roles:

hunter - hunter has the biggest role storywise besides luz and belos themselves. he's the captain of luz's guard and has been tasked with protecting her by belos. his relationship with belos is dark in ways that luz does not know about for a long time; he's intensely neurotic about keeping her from knowing anything. also he and luz are like Holy Shit codependent and it is Messyyy.

amity - amity is the youngest member of the emperor's coven and being mentored by lilith with the expectation that eventually she'll lead the coven herself. she and hunter have an intense, vicious, and occasionally violent rivalry (based in various jealousy issues & them both being neurotic). amity is very afraid of catching luz's attention bc of the power imbalance between them. but she also knows that luz killed belos.

lilith - largely unchanged from early canon lilith. she's the head of the emperor's -- now empress's -- coven, and intends to ask luz for help with healing eda's curse.

raine - raine is luz's music teacher, the head of the bard coven, and a secret rebel. they care Very Very Very Much about luz. after trespassing in her mind (fic #4 on ao3), they have a much better understanding of why luz has become so much more closed-off and cold and anxious. they've taken on a kind of protective parental role for luz that parallels eda's in canon.

darius - darius is also his secret rebel self, canon backstory intact. he has however gotten along with hunter for much longer in this AU than in the canon, for reasons such as: hunter is less focused on being a cop, hunter so transparently cares about luz that it's hard Not to care about him, n hunter is A Mess. so darius is constantly worried for hunter's wellbeing. similarly he's mentoring amity as a fuck-you to alador, he's pretty much the only adult she trusts besides lilith.

other characters - there are other characters that have yet to show up in any of the ao3 fics. willow as terra snapdragon's apprentice; gus as a wild witch who's still managed to make adrian hate him; vee having escaped to the human world and quickly blown her cover by turning into a toddler-aged luz; camila, after meeting vee and finding out the truth, trying to get to the isles to find the daughter who vanished well over a decade ago. these are all concepts that deserve their own stories, i just haven't written 'em yet.

[obxthornton]

Chapter 1

WC: 3179

5 years prior

If you took satan himself and slapped him in the black skinny jeans your mom wears, it would be Luke Hemmings.

I hated Luke more than life itself, more than rain on a beach day or the last cigarette in the box. 

It used to not always be like this. My band and his band used to be best mates, he and I had alittle chemistry. Alittle. Not a lot, but a tiny drop. We hung out every day after school, we played songs with each other. 

That was until Luke stole my song.

Stole my song. A song about how I felt after the events of the breakup and Luke Hemmings changed a few pronouns and broadcasted it across the school. And fucking 5 seconds of summer got the credit for it.

I didn't blame the other bandmates. Ashton and Michael were oblivious to when Luke had even written the song and Calum, well Calum said he just showed up to rehearsal and played the bass.

Luke claimed he came up with it in a dream. Isn't that the most bullshit excuse ever? A song about my personal life made up in his dream. He claimed I stole it from him. Even more bullshit.

I wrote that song, expressing all the emotions I had felt concerning the breakup and he stole it.

~~

"I can't wait to leave this school," Maddie said fixing her bag on her shoulder. She was significantly shorter than all of us and I wasn't even sure how her legs could catch up. She was maybe a foot shorter than Kiara who stood at almost 6'. Maddie was the bassist of our band and what she would call the 'hype man.' She was bouncy, bubbly, and not afraid to call people cunts to their faces. She liked to watch Star Wars movies and play soccer in her free time. 

"Aren't we all?" Kiara rolled her eyes at the girl's words like they weren't known. Kiara was our lead guitarist who was actually from America. She moved here for Dad's job back in grade 7 and we had been friends ever since. She had dark skin with her natural hair and she towered over most of us. She wasn't that much taller than me but she still intimidated the crap out of me. When Kiara was not volunteering at school or saving the world, she was usually with one of the two bands.

"I actually like school." Willow smiled, sunglasses covering her bloodshot eyes. Willow was our drummer. And when Willow wasn't banging on drums, or with her girlfriend, she was usually getting high or drinking. She was the party one of our group and was the best fucking drummer in all of Australia. Don't tell Ashton I said that.

"This is the first time you've been at school all week," I told her rolling my eyes. Then there was me I guess. I'm the lead singer in the band. Sometimes guitar, sometimes keyboard, sometimes wherever I was needed. 

"And? That doesn't mean I can appreciate the beauty of learning." Willow said sarcastically. It was good to say we were all done with year 12 and just wanted to leave. Kiara was going back to America for university, Willow was marrying her girlfriend and moving to Spain, and Maddie was going to university in England. I was staying here.

It was hard knowing that after this year I'd be alone. The band would be broken up until further notice and I'd be stuck here, alone.

"Georgina Summer? Where's Georgina summer?" A voice boomed through the hallways. I turned my head to look behind me to see Michael Clifford with one of those megaphone speaker things. His red hair made it easy to spot him in the hallway, so I didn't know why he couldn't spot me with the same hair color.

"Shut the hell up, Clifford!" Maddie yelled loudly at the boy whose head snapped in our direction. He had a huge smile on his face as he ran up to us.

"Women." He said still in the megaphone making us wince. He realized he was still talking into it and pushed it down, "women." He said again a lot quieter, shooting us all a grin.

"You really couldn't have just called me?" I asked unamused staring at the megaphone in his hand. 

"You wouldn't have answered." He pouted.

I leaned in towards him slightly, sending him a sarcastic smile, "Exactly."

"You're no fun, but hey, I'm here to invite you to this party Ashton's having tomorrow At his house," Michael said looking at us four.

"I'm in," Willow said smiling before turning and walking away suddenly.

Michael's eyebrows scrunched in confusion  "o-okay? She's in. Maddie's also in because Calum will be there and-"

Maddie shook her head and her arms at the boy, "wait wait wait. You can't just assume I'd come to a party just because My boyfriend is going."

Michael raised his eyebrows at her before she grumbled, "I'll see you there." She said before walking away in the direction Willow went

"Kiara is always in," Michael said smiling. Kiara shrugged, "always. Bye Gigi."

"And you." He said looking down at me, "You'll say you won't come because Luke's coming but then you'll break and come."

Michael Clifford thinks he knows me so well, doesn't he? I shook my head giving him an amused smile. "We'll see about that."

~~

"Black or red?" I asked holding up two dresses as the girls lay sprawled across my room. Willow was on my roof smoking a cigarette that I wouldn't let her smoke inside, Maddie was on the phone with Calum and Kiara was actually giving me input.

"You have red hair," Kiara said unamused. "You don't wear red on red."

I held up my hands in defense, putting the red dress back in my wardrobe, and slid off my jeans and T-shirt before sliding on the dress.

"Calums picking us up," Maddie said pulling the phone away from her mouth for a second.

"Hell no. I do not want to be stuck with you and your boyfriend making out in the front seat for 5 minutes before we leave the house." Kiara said glaring at Maddie.

Maddie pouted, "fine he'll pick me up."

"I cannot 7th wheel all night tonight." Kiara groaned and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. My eyes narrowed at her, "I don't have a partner."

"You and Luke have so much sexual tension that it feels like you're still together," Kiara said making me groan in response.

"It's true, you guys need to like bone already," Willow yelled from the roof. I walked over the my window and smiled at her sarcastically before shutting the window and locking the latches.

"Just because me and Luke dated for the tiniest amount of time doesn't mean we have any chemistry left," I said grabbing my trainers and putting them on my feet.

Maddie looked at me puzzled, "tiniest time? are we talking about the same Luke? You dated for four years." 

"Maybe alittle more than a tiny amount of time. Either way, it doesn't change how much I hate the guy. He stole-"

"My song." Maddie and Kiara said at the same time rolling their eyes.

"We know. Still don't know how that happened, I mean it has been seen that people come up with the same ideas at the same time." Kiara said.

"Not the entirety of a song!" I said before sighing, "Look, me and Luke are history. And by history I mean we hate each other's fucking guts. It's not changing."

A tap came from the window and Willow smiled before blowing her hot breath on the window. She drew an arrow heart and wrote L+G in it backward.

I rolled my eyes before standing up and closing the blinds on her.

"I'm not saying that you have to, bone, him tonight, I'm just saying try to be civil for the rest of us," Kiara said with a pleading look.

"I'm alwasy the civil one." I argued, "It's him you should be telling this to."

------

I had already regretted coming to this party. 

I didn't have school in the morning and I was staying over at Maddie's so there was no reason for me not to let loose and have a drink. But god did I hate the taste of alcohol. I also didn't like who I was on alcohol, it wasn't me I guess. I didn't mind being the designated driver.

"Here," Willow yelled over the music handing me a red solo cup of something. It looked like piss if I was being Honest.

"Don't get your pants in a mess, it's apple juice." She said rolling her eyes at me. "I brought some in my bag for you so you wouldn't feel left out."

I smiled gratefully at her before taking a sip; Apple juice at parties always hit differently.

"I'm going to find Danica." She said patting my shoulder and looking around for her girlfriend. "Call me if you need me." She disappeared into the crowd as soon as I nodded in approval.

"Hey, pretty girl." I turned my head to see Ashton Irwin smiling a toothy grin at me. Ashton and I had been friends since we were 4 years old, making him my utter and total best friend. He's how I met Michael, Calum, and the other one.

I smiled brightly at him before throwing my arms around his neck, "come here often?" He asked dipping me like we were dancing.

"A lot actually." I winked at me causing him to blush and set me back on my feet. This was our relationship, anyone from the outside would think we had been dating for all our friendship but in reality, he was just my best friend.

"Didn't think you'd show up. If you get tired or bored, just go up to my room. I'll tell Maddie where you are." He said taking a sip of his beer can he had.

"Thanks. Neither did I," I said raising my eyebrows slightly. "But Michael is just so persuasive with that megaphone. I mean who let the loudest kid in the group get a megaphone?" 

Ashton laughed and shook his head, "Luke bought it to shut him up in the moment, however, it just made everything worse."

I rolled my eyes, that was such a Luke thing. Only thinking about now and not the future.

"Are you guys like ever going to makeup? I hate not being able to hang out with both of you at the same time." Ashton said, his face turning serious as his fingers danced over the top of his cup.

"You know how bad the breakup was," I said shuffling my foot uncomfortably. It was true, even before Luke stole my song our relationship was in shambles. 

"I know." Ashton sighed, "I'm not trying to tell you who you love but come on Gigi. You and Luke were unbreakable. What even happened?"

I shook my head slightly, tugging on my lip ring anxiously with my teeth. Me and Luke never told anyone why we broke up. After you date for so long people expect you to last forever, but that wasn't the case with me and Luke. It was all I ever heard these days. 'Why did you and Luke break up?' 'Y'all were so cute!' 'Such a shame' 

People just fall out of love.

"Sorry," Ashton mumbled seeing my discomfort. I shook my head again waving him off, "No no it's fine." Maybe I did need a drink. I turned my head to the living room to see some kid throwing up in Ashton's mum's vase. Never mind.

"Shit." Ashton said, "Hey mate! That goes outside not in the vase." He yelled at the guy pointing towards the backyard, "I'll talk to you later alright?" Ashton said kissing my cheek before running off towards the sick guy.

I sighed at his absence, Taking a sip of my drink. "Gigi!" Maddie yelled over the music, pulling Calum along who was pulling Michael.  "Hey," I said to the three.

"Where'd Ashton go?" Michael asked looking around. I pointed to Ashton dragging the sick guy by his shirt towards the back door. Michael 'ahead' in recognition and turned back to us, "'Well see' huh?" He smiled 

I rolled my eyes at him bringing up what I had said yesterday. "We did see. And I chose to come." I said.

"We're always happy to see you, Gigi," Calum said smiling at me, I hadn't talked to him in a while but he was just always with Maddie.

"I'd like to take the credit for it," Maddie said smiling proudly.

I rolled my eyes at her, "it was Michael's obnoxious voice actually."

Michael smiled at her in a mocking 'ha ha I win' kinda look but then it fell and he snapped his head towards me. "Wait what?"

I smiled brightly at him as he pouted, "I'm dying my hair back." He threatened.

My mouth was agape and I glared at him, "Rude Michael! We're twins." He shook his head before putting the hood of his hoodie over his head to hide his hair. "Not anymore."

"I liked it when it was black." Calum said, "Oo or the green."

"God I hated the green." I said, "It made my hair completely dead." Me and Michael alwasy dyed our hair the same color. It was fun, alittle weird, but it was fun.

"Your hair is always dead," Maddie said reaching out to touch my hair, making me smack her hand away. 

"Maybe we should take a break after this color," I told Michael.

He nodded, "Yeah or we may have to shave off our heads. This is the 5th color this month."

"Speaking of shaving off our heads, where's Luke?" Calum said more to Michael than me.

I scrunched my eyebrows at him slightly, "why does shave heads make you think of Hemmings?"

Michael rolled his Eyes, "Calum shaved Luke's head in grade 5." Calum had a wide smile on his face as he remembered that day. I didn't remember that day, maybe we hadn't met yet but I only remembered Luke with long hair.

"I don't remember that," I said shrugging and turning around looking for the blonde boy for Calum. "If I see him I'll let you know."

"I need a drink." Maddie said looking at us, "One of you want to come with me?"

Calum nodded before Maddie grabbed his arm and pulled him along towards the kitchen. "I need one!" Michael said waving goodbye to me quickly before following the couple, who probably wanted to be alone, to the Kitchen.

I sighed looking around at the unknown faces. I didn't really hang out with people other than 5sos and Sugar's so this entire party was not in my comfort.  I mean sure at school I knew everyone and everyone knew me but did I know them? Absolutely not.

Willow was gone probably smoking on the roof with her girlfriend. Kiara probably went home to be honest, I hadn't seen her all night. Maddie and Calum were making out, Ashton was nowhere to be seen and Michael was in the crowd partying.

Ashton's bed was always comfy. He had stuffed animals that he put under his bed when the guys came over but in reality, he slept with them every night.  It always smelt nice in there, you wouldn't expect a teenage boy to have lived there. Clean laundry, lavender, citrus. It probably smelled better than my room.

So with that thought I ascended the stairs up to Ashton's room. I'd play on my phone, play his guitar, do something. Anything was better than standing alone at a party or following the only person you knew around like a sick puppy.

I twisted the knob of Ashton's room and opened the door.  I immediately groaned seeing Luke hemmings on top of some girl now both staring at me.

"Put a fucking sock on the door hemmings." I groaned throwing my head back annoyed.

"Get the hell out Geo." He said glaring at me before throwing the pillow behind the girl's head at me.

"Hemmings? I thought your name was Luke?" The girl under him asked.

I stifled a laugh but failed miserably. Luke shot me a glare before turning back to the girl, "Hemmings is my last name."

"I thought it was Robert?" She asked.

Luke sighed closing his eyes and sliding off the girl, "That's my middle name." He mumbled, "Just go." 

The girl pulled back on her jacket, still looking confused as she walked past me out the door. I sent her a cheeky smile as she did before turning back to Luke. "Got you a real keeper there," I said sarcastically motioning out the door with my head.

"At least I can get some if I want to." He grumbled sitting back down on the bed. 

I rolled my eyes at him, "are you going to leave now? Kinda want Ashton's room."

"Absolutely." Luke said, "not." "I was here first so I will stay." He kicked back his Legs on Ashton's bed nuzzling himself into the bed.

"Yeah, but Ashton said I could have his room. And I'd hate to call Ashton to kick you out." I said shaking my head.

Luke thought for a minute before shaking his head and getting underneath the covers.  "I'm not scared of Ashton. And I'm also not scared of my ex-girlfriend of four days."

"Four weeks." I corrected him.

"Four years!" Ashton yelled walking into the room. "You guys dated for four. Years. Years!" He said franticly. 

"he is drunk," Luke said groaning earning a confused glance from sober Ashton.  I looked at Luke with the same expression he was giving me before shaking my head, "I think I know how long we Dated."

"4 months at most," Luke said nodding in agreement.

Ashton let out an audible sigh, "At least you guys arent yelling at each other."

"Oh yeah. Back to that. Get out." Luke said pointing towards the door. 

I shook my head, "fuck no. You leave." I said grabbing his shoes from the ground and throwing them out the door.

"Stop that." He said as I threw the other one out as well. I grabbed his phone out of his hands too throwing it out the door as well.

"Hey!" Luke yelled standing up to go retrieve his phone. I smiled as I shrugged off my jacket and jumped on the bed, digging myself under the covers.

"Bitch!" Luke yelled as Ashton started to close the door. I didn't know if he was talking to me or Ashton but we both flicked him off before shutting the door completely. 

"Kiara told me you guys would be civil," Ashton said looking at me unamused.

I scrunched my eyebrows at him slightly, "that was me being civil. If I wasn't I would have thrown it out the window."

[mcklunkers]

Mushy May (but in August because I got distracted)

2- “I made this for you” w/ Mountain

 “I made this for you.”

Sister Willow looked up from the dirt she was digging in at the deep baritone of her favourite ghoul. Not that she had favourites of course – everyone in the abbey loved all of their resident ghouls equally. But there was something extra special about the giant that frequented her greenhouse.

It wasn’t just that he was beautiful. He absolutely was – long brown hair falling in waves down towards his shoulders, eyes greener than the grass in Primo’s private garden, dark stubble littering his jaw and cheeks. Occasionally when he was having a long day, or was simply tired, Willow could see antlers not unlike those of a stag peeking out from his head. He was 100% the most beautiful being she had ever laid eyes on. But he was more. Despite his size, he was so careful. He never knocked anything over, made sure to never hold anything too tightly. When the children and kits would visit to learn about plants, he would always sit down with the quietest so they wouldn’t have to ask questions in front of everyone. She remembered vividly a few weeks ago when a class had visited – Mountain, hunched over the little workspace with a young water ghoul and a cardinal’s daughter helping them repot some tomatoes – his entire body shrinking in on itself so they wouldn’t be afraid, hair falling into eyes that sparkled with joy at the children’s acceptance of him. She was beyond smitten at this point.

And here he was, stood before her, one hand running through his hair while a sheepish grin rested on his face, little fangs peeking out in the corners. In the arm outstretched to her, a perfect egret flower. The sister assumed there was some elemental magic involved, given they didn’t bloom at this time of year, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It was her favourite, the only person who knew that being Papa Emeritus the First. Meaning that at some point, Mountain had asked him because she hadn’t brought it up. Her hearted melted even more. He was beyond perfect.

She reached out and took the flower, admiring its delicate beauty, oblivious to Mountain admiring her. He’d known she was his mate from day one, but needed her to figure it out on her own. He’s been watching her since Primo pointed her out on his first day back from touring – the older papa always had a soft spot for Mountain and thought that the newest addition to the greenhouse staff would make a good pairing for the usually stoic ghoul. And he’d been right. The first day they met, it had rained so heavily out of seemingly nowhere that Mountain had loaned her his coat, and that coat had not been touched since it was returned because it smelt like his mate. His. Only his. He saw her with the children visiting the gardens for their classes, and the way she talked them through everything so patiently made him want to drag her to the back of the greenhouse and fill her with kits of their own on the spot. He wanted her, in every way, with him forever.

She looked up from the flower, meeting his eyes with golden orbs like the whiskey Secondo liked to drink, but they were dewy with tears, and he panicked. Apologies spewed from the mouth of the ghoul, sorrow settling onto his features before a small hand grabbed his hand and pulled him closer in for a kiss on the cheek. It was barely there, but as he turned and caught her mouth to kiss her back it became heated quickly. They separated for breath moments later, and his eyes stayed closed as her hand found its way into his hair to play with the locks there.

“I love it. Thank you, Mountain. Are you heading to dinner now?”

That was the first day of the rest of their lives.

[owlcassettes]

As The Moon Turns The Sea, Poem

As the Moon Turns the Sea

From my novel of the same name

Copyright 2020, Owl Willows

As our moon turns the clear water

rippling pale light

waves turn in and out

and my mind drifts away

I think about what will happen

after we finally get to where we

long to be

after we grow old and die

Where shall our afterworld be?

Will we exist peacefully in a world

of stone building ruins

surrounded by  the ocean

as the moon turns the sea--

empty, except for you and me?

We could create unbelievably

beautiful murals on all the walls

based upon stories and songs

that we lived and created

There would never come

an end--

nary stopping of heart

to our infinite, dreamlike

existence in the grey-purple

clouds beyond our old home

For because we are children

of The Universe we too

can create anything we wish

As the moon turns the sea

you and I shall be together

In a place which sets our spirits free

Sadness is  nonexistent and as we

flow through our endless days

we nurture not only each other

but the souls of every animal

and tree

The sun does not shine, for all

we need is the light of the moon

and the company of stars

We know not where the ancient temples

and castles came from

but we tend to them

for they too live, they too exist

with us, and around us

We colour the stone buildings

with our stories of Wysteria

of Edgar, of Aleka

of the ancient wizard who understands all

and we master the art

of never being afraid

for there is no hell, nor misery

or discontent

As the moon sits in her sky,

We ask her to tea

And so she smiles, her only wish to

turn the waves

We continue to create with our

celestial bodies~souls~hearts~

what we couldn't quite convery

through human imagination and hands--

murals of art larger than life itself

murals of heart as large

as the space we knew now

Of animals, the night sea

 and also the trees

the breeze that lifted off

the ocean filled us of mystery,

excitement, of wonder and love

Endless peace and quiet wrapped

itself round the darkness of the ever-night

and the murals of the ashen buildings

As the moon turns the sea

we are swept up in the world

of romanticism, mystery, art, and beauty

We dreamt of the night sky, as the moon

dreamt of us--separating us from  all of Earth’s

disappointments

our wishes dreamed still--and we breathed life

into them

No longer were castles hidden away  only in

the mists of Wales, nor used as hotels

no longer was anything our hearts dreamt

out of reach

The stone city was ours--

it was large, it was small

within a courtyard

all of us, everything loved

by the moon which turns the sea

surrounding our world

One of the courtyards we turned

into a outdoor theater for Shakesperean plays

put on by us and sometimes cats too

together we recited our favourite poetry

Sometimes it is so quiet here that

Our own footsteps are deafening

and where thunder storms its way

through the sky, an orchestra for us two

The rain overfills the fountains

and there is no one around. No fighting,

no misery, nor encroachment of thyself to

befit an ill tempered society

even when we were alive, we loved all

souls

Yet we were suffocated by how many there were,

the Earth’s  pollution and deterioration of culture

Slowly, all who loved us disappeared into

death until we did too, though

they know where to find us

The same North wind that rustles

the trees and brought us here

to our unique home would show them

the way

But we are fine here--two together--alone

still we have the cats, the trees, wind, and seas

Owls come to us

from the world of the sun,

to ours of forever night, to perch upon

our shoulders

and turn their heads round to say

“Whoo.”

On the wing of flight came the peacocks,

rooks, and ravens, all who spoke to us

As we lay in the colosseum of our

castle surrounded by the churning waves

the whales sang to us

haunting lullabies

and hand in hand, as drifted into

the water as the moon turned the sea

[bonesxbody]

#Chapter Two: Ties That Bind

The tension between Mara and Liam hung in the air like the last notes of a discordant symphony. With the bookstore behind them and the sleepy streets of Willow Creek as their stage, they stood at an impasse, the past crowding around them like an unwanted audience.

Liam broke the silence first, his voice a low rumble. "You can't just undo the past, Mara. You left. No note, no explanation, just... gone."

"I know," she admitted, her words heavy with the burden of her choices. "I was young, scared. I thought leaving was the only way to protect you from my mess."

"Your mess?" Liam's eyebrows knitted together, confusion and hurt mingling. "What mess, Mara? You never told me anything. I was left picking up pieces I didn't even know were broken."

Mara took a deep breath, the air cold in her lungs. "Remember the night of the Harvest Festival, when we were supposed to go together?"

"How could I forget?" Liam's gaze was intense, memories flickering in his eyes.

"I was supposed to meet you at the gazebo, but I never showed," Mara continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "That night, I found out my mother was involved in something... illegal. Money laundering for some big shot in the city. I was terrified it would come back to you, to us."

Liam's expression shifted from confusion to shock. "You kept that from me? Why?"

"I thought if I disappeared, whoever was watching would follow me, not you. I wanted to keep you safe," she explained, her eyes pleading for understanding.

"And you think that was the right call? To leave me in the dark, to wonder if I'd done something wrong?" His voice was rising, the old hurt resurfacing.

"No," Mara said, her voice cracking under the weight of her regret. "It was a mistake. One of many. But I'm here now, to make it right. Or at least, try to."

Liam looked away, his jaw set, the evening light casting long shadows across his face. "And what about now, Mara? What about the years in between?"

"I've been working with the authorities to bring down the operation. It's why I could only come back now," she said, her voice steadier, the resolve clear. "I needed to make sure you were safe from this, from me."

The revelation hung between them, a new layer to their complicated history. Liam turned back to her, his eyes searching hers for truth. "So, you're here because it's safe now? Or because you actually want to see me?"

"Both," Mara confessed, stepping closer. "I've thought about you every day. About what we could have been if I hadn't been so afraid."

The wind whispered through the trees, a reminder of time passing, of opportunities lost and possibly regained. Liam's gaze softened, his anger giving way to the complexity of his feelings. "You think we can just pick up where we left off?"

"I don't know," Mara admitted, her voice honest. "But I want to try. I owe us that much."

Liam looked at her for a long moment, the silence between them filled with the echoes of what was and what could be. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a cautious hope. "Let's walk. I need to think, and you... you have a lot to explain."

Mara nodded, relief mingling with the anxiety of the journey ahead. As they began to walk down the quiet street, the first drops of rain started to fall, a cleansing, a promise, or perhaps a warning of the storms yet to come. This was not just a story of two people; it was a tale of redemption, of facing one's past to forge a new future, together or apart.

[disillusioned-phantasma]

.

.

.

You’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The meadow is in full bloom, a sea of brilliance. Here, a profusion of daisies. There, a carpet of poppies. Asters and yarrow and little clovers, flowers you’ve never heard of, colors you didn’t know existed, bloom as far as the eye can see. There are starbursts, blue as the sea, that smell of salt and sand, and cones of pink blossoms that glitter in the light. Petals dance in a gentle breeze like prismic rain, carrying a soft, sweet scent. It feels like a dream. You’re knee-deep in flowers beneath a cloudless sky.

“This is impossible,” you say softly, afraid to disturb the peace. Your fingers graze a curving stem, heavy with bluebells. “It’s autumn. The leaves should be turning. How is everything so green?” 

The king’s men sigh tiredly, looking uncomfortable and terribly out of place in their clanking armor. “Unicorn,” they say, the only word they seem to know. Why are the winds so gentle here, spring-sweet and warm? Unicorn. Why is the water crystal clear and sparkling, the perfect temperature for both a quenching drink and a quick rinse of your dirtied hands? Unicorn. Why couldn’t you see the meadow until you crossed the river and passed a certain willow tree? Unicorn, obviously. They shake their heads at you like you don’t know anything.

“Sit here,” one of them tells you, pointing to a spot among the daffodils. 

Another one stops you just as you’re kneeling in the grass. “No, no, wait, over there is better. There are lilies. Lilies are a symbol of virginity.”

“I think the roses would be best,” a third chimes in. “Seems very maiden-like, doesn’t it? That’s what a maiden would pick, I think, if a maiden were out here, picking flowers.” The other knights nod sagely. “Then it’s decided. Over there by the roses, please. Here, sit with your legs folded like this…”

You roll your eyes. You can’t believe how seriously they’re taking the stupid little details. This whole expedition is a lost cause. It doesn’t matter how much they pretty you up, dressing you in this flowing gown and making you wander barefoot among the flowers. You’re a sheepherder, not a waifish little girl. A unicorn can tell the difference. But the king must really be desperate, because the knights are insistent as they correct your posture, smooth out your hair, and inspect you from every angle.

“Good. Perfect,” one of them says, nodding at his handiwork. “We’ll get into position. Do,” he pauses, waving his hand vaguely, “maiden things. Sing songs. Braid your hair. Whatever it is maidens do.” You watch them clang and clatter away to the treeline, hiding poorly among the rocks and flower bushes. You relish in the space and freedom, flopping on your back in the grass. You couldn’t care less if a unicorn comes or not. The fields are yellowed and prickly at home, nothing like the beautiful softness of this meadow. Your cousin agreed to watch your sheep for the day, so you don’t have a care in the world. You close your eyes and let eternal spring wash over you. 

You open your eyes to darkness.

You sit up slowly, groaning and groggy. You must’ve drifted off. Petals fall from your gown as you yawn and rub your eyes. Snoring drifts from the trees; the knights fast asleep. You stand up to stretch, only to find a new, fantastic landscape stretched before you. The meadow is tinged silvery blue in moonlight. New flowers, unopened buds just hours ago, bloom with a faint glow. A river of stars shines overhead. This must be the dream, you think, or maybe you’ve been dreaming since you crossed the river. Everything about the meadow is otherworldly, a place of beauty and gentleness unlike anything you’ve ever known.

And then you hear it. Softly at first and indistinct, but nearing, gradually louder. A rhythmic gait, too heavy for a human, too pronounced for fleshy feet. Hoofbeats. Your breath catches in your throat. You scramble to your feet and look around. Auroras shimmer above you, rippling ribbons of green. Night breeze blows across the meadow and the grass whispers at your ankles. You see him, trotting across the meadow. You see him and there are tears in your eyes. You realize you’ve never known beauty until this moment.

The unicorn is the color of night, black and deepest blue. His mane shimmers, woven with gemstones and glittering flower buds, and his horn shines like polished onyx. He is a man from the waist up, silver eyed and handsome. There are scars along his broad shoulders, puckered skin that healed a lighter gray. Beneath the waist, muscle twists and transforms into long equine legs. His gait is leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“My oh my, what do we have here?” he says. His voice is velvety smooth and alluring. Your apprehension melts away even as he stops before you, his front legs bending so you’re face to face. A heavy, coat-like fabric rests across the back of his horse body, royal purple and delicately embroidered with intricate floral patterns. He reaches for you, slender fingers curling along your jaw. You’re sure of it now. This is all just a dream. The unicorn chuckles, a warm and rumbling sound that fills you with heat. “You’re wide awake, little one.”

“You can read my thoughts?” 

“I can read more than that.” His smile widens and he stands to his full height. You fidget nervously as he walks in a slow circle around you, a hand beneath his chin. His hooves kick up petals and glittering pollen with every step. “Hmm, let’s see...a shepherd! How precious. What gentle hands. Ah, but a solitary life. You’ve not known a lover’s touch in quite some time.” Your face heats in embarrassment. His palm trails across your back as he passes behind you, squeezing your shoulder. 

“I thought unicorns only came to pure maidens,” you say. His every touch sends sparks across your skin. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy, thin fabric of your gown. At that, his smile gains a sharp edge, almost predatory. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“What a delight you are,” he murmurs. “Coming all this way was worthwhile after all.” He begins to walk and you follow without being asked. There are flowers all around you but you pay them no mind now, too entranced by the beautiful creature beside you. You don’t know if you go far or not, time and distance rendered meaningless in the dreamlike embrace of the meadow. He leads you to a large, mossy rock formation, the stone sheared away to leave an unnaturally flat surface. You look back over your shoulder, remembering the knights. Did they sleep through all of this? Should you say something? The unicorn’s hand cups your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. His breathtaking smile obliterates all thoughts of anything else. 

“The stories are an exaggeration,” he tells you. He guides you gently, hands on your shoulders, to sit on the stone. His legs fold beneath him and he sits, his hands carding through your hair. The affection and desire in every touch, every gentle scratch of his fingers against your scalp, makes you hotter. “We appear to whomever we wish to appear to. But I confess, some of us do have a soft spot for virgins.” He presses a sharp kiss to your lips, nipping at you. “We enjoy teaching them pleasure,” he hisses, and pushes you suddenly onto your back. The gown is pulled from your body, discarded in the grass. Night air caresses your bare skin and you squirm beneath his wandering gaze.

Somehow, it only occurs to you now what his intentions are. The gentle caresses, the sensual touches and the heat in his gaze didn’t feel real. They still don’t, but now, naked and at the mercy of his hungry eyes, you understand. “You...you want me?” you say, your voice small in embarrassment. When you say it out loud, it sounds even more ridiculous, but there’s no mistaking this. He rests his arms across your abdomen, gazing up at you with fondness and longing. 

“I do,” he says. “Very, very much. Would you let me have you?” 

You bite your lip, your body trembling as he slips a hand between your legs and just grazes your sex with his fingertips. The touch is teasing, too fleeting, and leaves you aching for more. You nod shakily and he hums, pleased at your acquiescence. “What’s your name?”

He looks rather charmed that you asked, warmth filling his gaze. “I am Myurva,” he says. You give him your name in return and the way he says it back to you, the lascivious purr, makes you squirm. The unicorn rests his hands on your knees, gently but firmly easing them apart. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to see you.” 

Myurva’s seduction is slow and patient even as you writhe and beg him for more. He opens you on his fingers, soothing your frenzied whimpers with sweet nothings and loving whispers of your name. You’ve never been treated with such devotion, such smothering lust and affection. He touches you like the love of his life, kisses tenderly and messily, drags his hand along your side and savors the way you move for him. “So very worth it,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He has two fingers inside you, caressing your walls and curling just right to reach the spot that makes you shriek. “How fortunate I am to have found you, lovely. I want to keep you. I want to spoil you each and every night.” 

You’re keening for him, sobbing with need, when he flips you onto your stomach. You hardly notice. You spread your legs when you feel his hands on you, kneading your ass. Everything is hot and electrifying, hazy with pleasure. Then his front hooves land heavily in the grass near your head and something enormous rubs against you. “Wait,” you say shakily. You hear a chuckle above you. The fleshy end of Myurva’s cock slides against your ass, smearing precum along your spine. Your heart skips a beat feeling the sheer size of it against you. There’s no way. It’s impossible. You try to push yourself up on your elbows and one of his hooves stamps dangerously near your head. 

“I thought you wanted me, lovely,” he says. He thrusts again, the length of him slipping between your thighs and grinding against your sex. “If you move, I’ll have to chase you. You won’t get far.” 

“You won’t fit,” you tell him, voice pitched in desperation. Trying to squirm just makes him rest his weight against you, crushing you between the stone and the bulk of his body. “You’re going to break me!”

“I’ll go slow,” Myurva purrs. He demonstrates with a slow grind, a gradual roll of his hips. His heated flesh feels so good against you. “I’ll be so, so careful with you. Don’t you remember the stories? I enjoy virgins. I haven’t harmed a single one. They wander the woods in search of me, begging to feel my cock again.” You hear his back hooves shifting, repositioning behind you. He lines himself up and his cock prods against your opening. “Let me show you,” he urges. “Let me bring you pleasure you’ve never known.” He grinds against you again, hot pressure building as he begins to push inside. You gasp his name, beg him to wait, to go slow, to give you a moment to collect yourself, but he chuckles and presses harder.

Your nails rake against the stone and your vision whites out. The burn of the stretch becomes a tingling sensation, numb at first and then blindly pleasurable, lighting sparks in your belly. It shouldn’t be possible but you feel the head inside of you. The pain is a dull ache but every movement chases it away, pleasure washing over you. He rocks his hips and the steady, shallow thrusts push him deeper. True to his word, he fucks into you agonizingly slowly, panting and moaning

“How do you feel, lovely?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s holding back, you realize, his hooves stomping restlessly as he makes small, unconscious thrusts to feel you wrapped around him. “Let me in deeper. Let me fuck you properly. You won’t regret it.”

You don’t think he can get deeper. You try to tell him as much, but a hard thrust knocks the breath out of you. The fullness makes your head spin. You feel yourself pushing back against him despite all of the sensations, the ache inside of you, the impossibility of the whole situation in the back of your mind. He makes a breathy, choked sound and then laughs, fucking you harder. “Ohhh, that’s it. Just like that. I knew you’d love this.” You can hear his cock slamming into your body, can feel the weight of his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. You feel like a cocksleeve, a snug toy for him to fuck. The force of his thrusts drags you back and forth over the stone, scraping up your chest, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure he gives you. 

Someone is screaming, crying Myurva’s name into the night. You barely recognize your own voice, the needy pitch, the tremor in every word. You’re so full, so unbearably stuffed with cock, no longer trying to meet his thrusts but letting him move you, ruining you for any human partner. Your knees bruise on the stone. Your toes curl. Your cries build to a frenzied crescendo and you cum impaled on his enormous cock, shaking, panting his name.

“Lovely,” he moans, an obscene sound leaving his lips as your inner muscles clamp down on his cock. “Gods above, darling, I’m going to fill you.” He fucks you wildly, no rhythm, no caution, his whole cock slamming into you as hard and deep as he can get. You can’t move. The whole world turns white-hot and blinding. You go limp, gasping weakly as Myurva begins to grunt, his cock pulsing, his whole length crammed inside you.

You thought you were full already, but then he cums. You feel him straining on top of you, his whole weight thrown forward as he fucks ropes of thick cum into your body. It foams up around his length and makes obscene, slick sounds. You feel it overflowing, trickling down your thighs. It feels like it goes on forever, his moans, his deep, straining thrusts, his cock pouring more and more cum into your body until his balls empty and he finally, with a satisfied sigh, pulls out. 

You make an undignified sound at the sudden emptiness, and the rush of cum that follows. You’re grateful for the stone beneath you, cool against your sweat-soaked skin. Your legs are jelly. You don’t know if you’ll ever walk again. Myurva’s front hooves lift, stepping back from the stone. His human hand caresses your cheek. “You’re truly something, lovely,” he says quietly. “I spoke in jest of keeping you, but now...it’s difficult to resist the temptation.” 

You try to speak but only manage an incoherent murmur of noise. He chuckles and strokes your hair. Distantly, you’re aware of other noises than the two of you. Shouting. Footeps. Clattering steel. You remember suddenly that you aren’t alone out here, arms struggling to lift you. The knights. How could you forget? Shame heats your face. How long have they been awake? How much did they see? How much did they hear? Myurva shushes your protests, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Rest,” he says. You don’t think you’re capable of doing much else, anyway.

You hear a commotion behind you. The knights, shouting in outrage, drawing swords. Are they going to hurt Myurva? Your eyes widen and you try again, uselessly, to lift yourself and see what’s happening. The unicorn gives you one last gentle caress and leaves you, his hoofbeats stopping somewhere between you and the knights.

“At last, you show yourself!” the knights exclaim. You manage to roll onto your side, craning your neck to see them surrounding Myurva, but he doesn’t look concerned. He glances around, examining each of the men. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Subjects of King Cornelius. And you want…” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. “A hostage? Is that right? Your people have no claim over our mountains. A hostage will not change this. My king does not negotiate.” His words are ignored. The knights are wary but they do not back down. You feel like a fool. Why didn’t you ask them what they wanted the unicorn for? You assumed it was something trivial, a silly princess who wanted a pet. Nothing like this. 

Myurva glances back at you. His silver eyes catch the moonlight and glint dangerously. Those are a predator’s eyes, you realize. A thing that hunts and stalks the night. “You worry for me, lovely?” he purrs. “Your every emotion is so tender. I really must keep you. But, alas,” he chuckles, turning back to the knights, “business first, my sweet.”

You hadn’t looked all that carefully at the fabric across the back of his body. You hadn’t noticed the sword sheaths hanging there, hidden beneath the drapes and tassels. You hear steel scraping steel as he unsheathes twin blades, long and curved, as strikingly silver as his eyes. One of the knights tries to say something. “Come quietly,” or some other meaningless thing. He never finishes speaking. You hardly see Myruva move. A flash of silver, a rush of air; that’s all it takes. The knight’s head falls from his shoulders, and his body sinks to the ground soon after. The others begin to scream and scatter, but they’ll never get away. There’s no outrunning a unicorn. 

Laying there upon the stone, you see everything. Prey fleeing and predator giving chase. Swords clashing. Flesh pierced and mangled. Myurva tramples one of them, snaps the man’s ribs with glee in his shining eyes. Their armor does nothing but trap them in slow, awkward shells, easy prey to catch and dismantle. The unicorn moves like a whirlwind across the meadow, death his shadow. Blood soaks the soil and splatters the flowers, almost black in the night. 

You’re on your knees when it’s over, hunched over the stone with your legs in the grass. You can’t stand. You can’t run. You can’t do anything but turn and see Myurva standing there, fresh blood dripping from his swords. He smiles at the sight of you, the shivers wracking your body. “You didn’t know,” he assures you. “I can read you, remember?” He wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them at his side once again. You flinch when he comes closer, sitting in the grass beside you. You smell the carnage on him. The fingers that tuck your hair behind your ear are wet and warm. “Pleased to meet you,” he purrs. “I’m Myurva, the royal spymaster. And you are the loveliest little human I’ve ever seen.”

You protest weakly when he scoops you up in his arms, standing suddenly. You’re vaguely aware of moving, of being carried somewhere. You fight to cling to consciousness, but it’s slowly slipping out of your grasp. “Hush,” Myurva coos, kissing your forehead. “We’ve a long ways to go and you’re in no condition to ride me just yet. But, eventually…” He chuckles, one of his hands cupping your backside. “Eventually, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we like, won’t we?”

2: Centaur

it’s said that only pure virgin maidens can call a unicorn, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

->explicit. contains horse genitalia, weird sex magic to enable human-to-horse genitalia compatibility, dubcon/noncon, semi-public sex, implications of mind-altering magic, gore, murder, kidnapping.

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[miniaturemoonheart]

I was midwife of birth and death.

My medicine grew in fields and forests:

Mandrake.Yarrow. Henbane.

My heart beat in time to the spin of the earth.

I spoke only truth.

I would not be silent.

I would not speak the name of their god.

So they cut out my tongue.

I was an oracle. I was She Who Sees.

I saw the tracks of the stars and the path of the swallows,

The sun rising in the stones and lichen on tree trunks.

I would not cast down my gaze in front of their masters.

So they burnt out my eyes.

I was Creatrix. Pleasure was my magic.

My body writhed, moss against the arch of my back

As I howled my ecstasy to a strawberry moon.

I knew no shame.

I birthed when I chose.

I bled on the earth.

I would not hide my blood.

So they ripped out my womb.

I was sovereign. I knew no greater power than that of my own body.

I was not afraid of the dark.

I was Shakti.

I was wild, untamed.

I ran with the wolves and swam with the seals.

I raged with the wind and wept with the rain.

I would not be controlled.

So they bound my hands behind my back and slaughtered my children, one by one, in front of me, As I begged and screamed and sobbed.

“Help me,” I cried.

But my sisters whispered and turned away,

Their own children too precious to lose.

They hung me from a sacred oak.

As the blood dripped from my broken body, staining the blackthorn pyre beneath my feet,

I made a vow

Of silence.

And the terror settled into my bones, like sand.

II

For hundreds, thousands of years, I slept like this:

Obedient, chaste, demure.

Tamed.

My voice, my eyes, my blood, my magic, my power, my truth, all hidden in plain sight

In women’s bodies, coiled like a snake,

Concealed

By shame and fear.

They knew that I was not dead

So they masqueraded a parody of me through children’s dreams:

grotesque, warted, cackling

and bad to the bone,

A role model for no-one.

This was their greatest subterfuge.

When they heard my name, people trembled,

The truth was forgotten:

That I was a healer, a seer, a force of nature, a woman free of shame.

III

I slumbered on

But I could not sleep forever.

I heard a sound, what was it?

The death song of a shrike perhaps?

The padding footsteps of a lonely tiger?

And then I felt the blood.

It swelled in my womb and gushed from every cell in my body:

The blood of shame, the blood of pain,

The blood that forever kept time with the moon.

The disobedient blood that kept flowing from a wound that would not close.

I howled in agony

And opened my eyes.

I blinked

And looked around in disbelief at the withered, treeless earth,

Her arteries clogged with a filthy waste,

Her lungs choked.

She was not as I remembered her.

“Where am I?” I whispered.

The earth answered:

“You are home.”

The clothes they had dressed me in, I tore them from my body.

I put my hand to my breast to check my heart was still beating.

I reached down to my vulva and caressed her

And dipped my fingers inside that long forgotten passage.

At first, I felt nothing.

I persisted.

The numbness gave way to pain.

I pressed my cervix and the cries of a billion women,

Raped and beaten and silenced and murdered,

All over the world and through all of time

Seared my flesh with white heat,

And finally,

Finally,

I unleashed the rage that had built in my body for a thousand years:

A terrible screech, an animal howl, a guttural scream,

That split the sky

And rained back down on the earth as shattered glass.

And then the honey.

Sweet, orgasmic waves

Merged my body with the earth and the stars

And I was almost whole again.

There was work to be done.

I broke a branch from a willow to use as a wand.

My pelvic bowl was my cauldron.

I made magic.

I remembered that I had not always been alone.

I called out to my sisters: “Where are you?”

And their sleep muffled voices echoed back to me through the mist:

“We are here.

We are here.

We are here.”

-Midnight-🖤🩶