#a bird shaped shadow

[dustedmagazine]

Dave Vettraino — A Bird Shaped Shadow (Ruination)

Dave Vettraino is a recording engineer based in Chicago known for his work with artists such as Jaimie Branch and Makaya McCraven. On A Bird Shaped Shadow, his acoustic guitar provides the matrix on which wind, brass, strings and percussion build compelling soundscapes. The result is an enchanting blend of jazz, classical, and even exotica and folk elements that defies categorization. The sound is warm, lush and highly detailed.

Somewhat gentler and more layered than Vettraino’s solo debut, Exercise (2020), this release — named for a line from Haruki Murakami — features slow to mid-tempo tunes that tend to unfold without building to obvious climaxes. The musicians who help him bring his compositions to life, including Rob Frye of the Bitchin’ Bajas (among other projects) on clarinet, flute, and sax, cellist and sound artist Lia Kohl and percussionist Phil Sudderberg, are well known on the Chicago scene.

The tunes, presented in order of increasing length, gradually draw the listener in. The brief opening title track sets the mood with a swoosh of strings and guitar suggestive of a sunrise. Next, “Morning Melody” — the theme of the first half of the day is also reflected in the album’s cover art — with sax and strings dancing over a steady percussion groove, seems to form a kind of suite with “Parallel Play,” which features singer-songwriter and composer Macie Stewart on Wurlitzer and violin and a similar groove and feel.

“Mid Mind” largely dispenses with the groove in favor of an exotica-adjacent sound in a perfect blend of synthetic and acoustic sounds. Vettraino’s guitar is somewhat more prominent on “There Is No Way Not to Choose,” which delivers seven minutes of sonic bliss also shaped by strings and spare piano.

The percussion groove returns on closer “Uplift Two Twenty Two,” which, over more than eight minutes, serves as the summation of what has gone before. Propelled by a sweet horn ostinato and a keening flute, the track is suggestive of heading out into the bustle of a morning in the city.

While this album is distinctive, I hear similarities to, among other things, some of the projects released on the Hubro record label, the Henry Kaiser-Jim O’Rourke project Acoustics, and, Peter Walker’s Rainy Day Raga and Second Poem to Karmela. Whether Vettraino is familiar with or interested in these antecedents is unclear, but A Bird Shaped Shadow will certainly appeal to anyone who is. Putting this record on, pouring a cup of coffee, and sitting by a sunlit window are an almost certain recipe for a nice day.

Jim Marks

[cloud-ya]

sobbing.....her little brother is her guardian angel

[kawaiiiuniverssse]

Saved this to my phone

And this popped up

I’m thoroughly amused

[mardelina]

Oldies

🌿 @mardelina 🌿

[roscvcins]

Hello this is my new phone bg

[ominous-faechild]

✦ OC Questionnaire Tag ✦

Following open tags from @yourpenpaldee (post), @honeybewrites (post), and @pixies-love-envy (post)!

I liked a lot of your guys' questions and really wanted to try them out! Hopefully that's okay, I'm really new to this kind of stuff so please be patient with me if I do any of this wrong! 😅😊

Characters from Sun and Shadow: Crow, Freya, and Daleira.

Crow (the detective's progeny)

Would you do something illegal if you were getting paid a large sum of money? (You can choose the illegal thing) I mean, aren't I already being paid to do illegal things for lots of money? Breaking and entering, very consensual information-gathering, theft of evidence, falsification of identity, planting of evidence when and where necessary... wait, who's asking again? Change of answer: I would never. 😘

What is your favorite non-human creature in the world and why? (Gods count) That's easy! My familiar, Aria! I don't care if she's connected to me, she's not human--and don't you dare make a joke about me not being human either! I am cursed, not something else! And why do I love her? I mean--is she my favorite non-human creature? Well... there's a lot of reasons. For one, she's my familiar. Like, she chose me. Even if she's a crow, too, because she's taken on a bit of my curse... I mean, that's my fault isn't it? Ha... no, I think she's fine. She's still able to sing, and that seems to be enough for her. I guess I like that about her, too. Eh, this is all too gushy. Next question!

If you were forced to kill one person you have met, who would it be? (Not yourself) *looks at the people they've gotten thrown into prison* Yeeeeaaaaah, there's a lot of options there. You really want me to pick one? Look, I already only spared them because it was against the law and my father would've been upset about it. If I'm going to go against their wishes... I'm going to pick a lot more than just one. 😉

Frey (ex-fisherwoman and heiress to the Ula company)

Are you spiritual at all? Are you not? There's so much magic in the air that most people are fae-touched one way or another, and you'd never know if you're speaking to a spirit in disguise or an avatar of the gods. Plus, my dad is an avatar--so it's kinda hard to not worship the gods or whatever other spirits out there that demand your respect. I mean, you want to get on their bad side? *scoff* Good luck with that.

Do you want children? If so how many? Uh, I've never thought about that before actually. Probably not? Maybe? I don't know, honestly. Maybe eventually? *sigh* Give me some years and maybe someone I could actually see myself settling down with and we'll see.

What’s your favorite memory? Oh... this is probably kind of depressing, heh... but it would probably be the day my dad came back from his year-long trip around the world. It'd been storming horribly, he was supposed to be in the area, and I was ten so I thought that him not responding to his transceiver had to mean something happened to him! Turns out, he'd come back early and wanted to surprise me with some gravlax he bought from a specialty place in town. He apologized when he saw how terrified I was, ha, and we spent the night together playing stupid board games. Oh, and he taught me how to make skink! ... I miss him. Dammit...

Daleira (magitech inventor and faerie)

What does your rest day look like? Ha! What rest day? Okay, okay--I actually do rest, but just maybe not in the way you usually would. I enjoy working with all these little magical devices, tinkering with them, figuring out how they work and how we can recreate them... wait, what was I saying? OH RIGHT! So my "rest days" usually just have me working in my workshop with Faer if he's there, haha. That, or maybe taking a stroll around the city! (*mischievous smile*) Anyone who thinks they're going to mess with a lone, helpless girl... well, that's their mistake.

What would be your last meal? I mean, technically--okay, no, sorry, this is supposed to be a game where I take everything literally. No ifs, ands, or buts. Alright. In the situation where I had to choose a last meal... what would I choose? Oooo, I know! I'd love a feast with as much sweets as possible! 🥰 What? Can't a girl love sweets?

If you were a hybrid, what would you want to be morphed with? Ho-kayyy, so! Ignoring technicalities and all of that stuff again. We're going to assume here that I can't choose anything that I already use and that I can't switch my appearance anymore after? Alright. So... I think I would probably pick some kind of bird? 😅 Ha... it's kind-of nerve-wracking to think I'd never be able to shapeshift again, but I like birds! Their wings, and they're pretty, and... yeah, it would be nice to fly.

Your questions!

If you could commit any crime for free and completely get away with it, which crime would you commit? (Saying "I would never commit a crime!!!" is a goody-two-shoes acceptable answer)

What would be your dream ending? Like, if everything in your life went exactly how you wanted, how would it turn out?

What is your greatest fear? And, if you were asked your greatest fear by a creature you thought might use it against you, what would you tell it?

Tagging (with no pressure): @darkandstormydolls @fantasy-things-and-such @yourpenpaldee @themboty and whoever else wants to join!

[iced-souls]

Ooh the thingy thing hehehhehe

I definitely have more oc’s before Kate but i decided to choose oc’s i did stuff with more than once/ have LOREEEEE

I LOVE DEM ALL AHHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHHEHHEHHEHE!!!!!

[tender-rosiey]

SUKUNA AND HIS SHY DAUGHTER BONDING TIME WHEN?!?! Reader can be present and discreetly takes their pictures (sukuna pretends not to notice).

guided lines — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: congrats we now have cameras in the heian era and BIG BIG thanks to @bluebell33 and @soupie-writer for beta-reading <33

it’s a quiet afternoon in the heian household, the kind of stillness that comes after the chaos of the morning has settled.

the courtyard is bathed in golden sunlight, casting soft shadows along the wooden floorboards, and the faint rustle of the wind carries the scent of blooming wisteria.

you lean against the doorframe, peeking through the slightly open shoji screen into the courtyard where your husband and daughter are seated.

it’s a rare sight to see sukuna like this—relaxed, unguarded, the sharp lines of his usual stoicism softened as he sits cross-legged on the floor.

your daughter sits opposite him, her tiny hands clutching a paintbrush far too large for her delicate fingers.

the scroll of parchment between them is already half-filled with colorful smudges and haphazard lines, a far cry from anything artistic, but, hey, the effort is there.

“hold it properly,” sukuna instructs, his deep voice carrying just enough patience to make you pause in the hallway.

he reaches out to adjust her grip, his large hand completely engulfing her tiny one as he guides the brush to the paper.

she ducks her head shyly, murmuring a soft, “okay, papa.”

you bite back a smile, the term still so foreign yet so endearing coming from her lips.

sukuna doesn’t respond, at least not verbally, but his movements slow as he helps her make another stroke on the parchment.

you slip inside quietly, camera in hand.

sukuna had gifted it to you on a whim months ago, claiming he had no use for “trivial inventions,” but you’d quickly discovered his disinterest didn’t extend to being the subject of your photos.

he always pretends not to notice, but you’ve caught the subtle shifts in his posture whenever he knows your lens is trained on him—straightening his back, tilting his chin just slightly.

raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus, the scene coming into view with perfect clarity:

sukuna’s broad frame hunched slightly as he leans closer to d/n, his expression uncharacteristically soft, her tiny fingers smudged with ink and her lips pursed in concentration.

the sunlight catches the faint scar over his nose, the curve of his jawline, the tension in his hands as if he’s holding back his full strength.

click.

the sound is quiet, but his ear twitches ever so slightly, and you know he’s caught on. he doesn’t look at you, though, his attention remaining fixed on the little girl in front of him.

“what is that supposed to be?” he asks, nodding toward the splotchy shape she’s drawn.

“a bird,” she whispers, the pink in her cheeks deepening.

he raises a brow, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s about to tease her—sukuna’s sense of humor is sharp, often cutting, and you’ve had your fair share of exasperated sighs directed his way.

but instead, he tilts his head thoughtfully, as if trying to see it from her perspective.

“it…has wings,” he says finally, and her face lights up, a smile spreading across her features.

“you think so?”

“it’s obvious,” he replies, though his tone is far from dismissive. “draw another.”

you stifle a laugh, adjusting your position to capture another angle.

sukuna’s patience with a child isn’t something you’d ever expected to witness, let alone document, and it’s a side of him you treasure more than you’ll ever let on.

click.

this time, his gaze flickers toward you, just for a split second. it’s not a glare—more of a warning, the faintest quirk of his lips betraying his amusement.

you grin back at him, unrepentant, and he huffs quietly before returning his attention to your daughter.

“your brushwork is sloppy,” he comments as she attempts another bird, her little hands trembling slightly as she draws a lopsided wing.

“I’m trying,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

he leans back slightly, his arms resting on his knees as he watches her.

“try harder,” he says, but there’s no edge to his tone, only a challenge—a nudge toward improvement.

click.

this time, d/n notices, her wide eyes darting toward you. “mama, what are you doing?”

“nothing,” you lie, lowering the camera with a sheepish smile. “just admiring my two favorite people.”

she beams, but sukuna groans, dragging a hand down his face. “stop filling her head with nonsense,” he mutters, though the faintest hint of pink dusts his ears.

“it’s not nonsense,” you argue, stepping closer and crouching beside them.

d/n immediately crawls into your lap, clutching her brush in one hand and smearing ink on your sleeve in the process. you don’t mind, your focus entirely on the man in front of you.

she giggles, resting her head against your chest as you pull her close.

“papa’s really good at drawing,” she says, pointing at the bird he’d drawn earlier as an example. “he helped me with mine.”

sukuna shrugs, “someone had to make it look like a bird.”

you laugh, the sound light and warm, and his eyes linger on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you know him well enough to catch it—the way his gaze softens, the way his shoulders relax just slightly.

later that evening, after your daughter has fallen asleep, you’re sorting through the photos on your camera, sukuna seated beside you on the porch.

he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his presence, the quiet strength of him a comforting weight at your side.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “I think these might be my favorite pictures yet.”

he glances at the screen, his expression unreadable. “you’re too sentimental.”

“maybe,” you admit, leaning your head against his shoulder. “but I can’t help it. you’re both so... precious to me.”

he doesn’t respond, and you take it as a sign for the comfortable silence to take over again.

but your husband presses a kiss to the top of your head that leaves you speechless till the end of the night.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will kiss you

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[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 7:

Summary: Your escape from Joker doesn't go unnoticed, and you bear the consequences of attracting the attention of the bats.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

----

Burning green blinded him, searing his veins and twisting. His very breath was strained, broken and turning into what he could only describe as boiling rage.

He did the only thing he could do.

Murder the clown.

Strike after strike bore down upon the clown’s heaving body, his guns left behind on the floor, long forgotten. Any little trick up the clown's sleeve was swiftly discarded by Jason’s primal force.

The clown’s leg was held in his gloved hands, he twisted, pulling and pulling until there was an abrupt snap. The other leg was subject to the whims of his iron toe boots, breaking under the pressure.

He itched and burned to do more, fists turning into a flurry of blows upon the now unconscious clown. The clown could still cry out in pain, and that satisfied him.

Jason kept going, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, not until he wrapped his hands around and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed and the clown finally popped.

Jason let out a breath, hands forming into an instinctive fist and aimed, until hands wrapped around his arms to pull him back.

He struggled, trying to jab out with his elbow to no avail. A voice interrupted the Green, calling out to him.

“Jason! Jason, come on!” The voice called out, demanding and desperate and somehow just enough for him to break through.

“Steph…?” He mumbled, regaining focus of the world around him. There was blood on his gloves.. his boots too. 

The clown as if a train had run him over- several times. Every part of his face was bruised, green, purple and black. His limbs were in no better shape, twisted and broken into pieces that seemed like agony for doctors to put back together.

He didn't envy Joker’s recovery period.

“Shit..” Batgirl muttered, at his side. “Batman won't be happy about this.” 

“Fuck Batman.” Was his instinctive response.

“Indeed..” She replied. “Well… I’ll take him back to Arkham, or actually, to the nearest doctor that won’t try to finish him off. Cass?”

A sudden movement in the shadow (that definitely didn't make Jason jump) revealed Cass, as she walked closer, a golden cage in one of her hands and Jason’s soul form in the other.

“Hurt.” Cass stated, pointing down at his soul form. Jason whistled, looking at the damage. 

His soul form had always been a durable little thing, no doubt a result of his own upbringing, but this amount of damage was definitely rare. The bird’s wings were twisted, a sign that they were broken, and its breaths were slightly ragged, indicating some internal injuries.

It’d be alright, ultimately. Soul animals healed much faster than humans, as a result of them being magic. 

He was mostly just glad he had bond distancing training, feeling those injuries wouldn't be fun at all. There was a dull pain in his back already, no doubt a result of his soul form’s injuries.

He sighed, kicking at the clown a bit as he did so. “Well that’s a problem.” 

“Your soul animal shouldn't be out of the cave Hood, how did it get here?” Batgirl spoke, turning to look at Orphan, as the hero unlocked the cage a bat was glooming in.

“And how did Bats get here either? Out of all of us, he's had the best training, his soul animal should know the most about how important it is to our identities for them to not leave.” Batgirl frowned, confusion painted on her face.

Batman’s soul animal flitted up to rest on Orphan’s shoulder, a vision of silent solitude. Orphan gave it a little scritch on its ears.

Jason paused, considering how to word what he was about to say. The Green had mostly cleared up, but it still fogged him a little, especially as he thought of the scene he witnessed.

“There was a civilian, Joker’s victim. Tied to a chair and about to be smashed on the head by a crowbar. My soul animal appeared and took the hit.” He stuck to the facts, they were wasting too much time as is. Damn, if not for the pit rage he could have found them by now!

Batgirl gasped. Orphan shifted a little. “Wait, do you think..?” Batgirl struggled to voice the question, knowing how much it meant to them all.

“Yes.” Jason answered, blunt. “That was our soulmate.”

Abrupt movement from the window interrupted their shock, as Red Robin swooped in with a brisk move. 

“Hey.” Red Robin called out, taking in their depressed faces. He paused. “What happened?”

—-

You were not having a good night. Your head hurt, your feet ached, and you would basically give anything at this point to get back home and collapse on your bed. Nothing had gone the way you had hoped for. In fact, it was now the absolute worst case scenario, other than being dead.

Now you have been exposed to two of your soulmates, potentially all of them now if they were feeling like sharing that information.

Oh and of course, you couldn't forget the Joker. Your newly acquired head injury certainly wouldn't be forgetting about it anytime soon.

You groaned, the world before you turning into brief spinning fuzz, as you trudged on. 

“Why me…” You muttered, narrowly avoiding stepping in some rain water. You walked through an alleyway, vaguely guessing the direction of your house. In all honesty, you had barely the slightest inkling of where you were at this point, but you had to try.

The shadows behind you stirred, and you whipped around, making eye contact with one of your worst nightmares. Nightwing.

You shifted backwards, aiming to run away, but he caught onto the fleeing posture of your stance.

“Hey! Hey, calm down.” He spoke reassuringly, as if he was talking to a scared citizen. “I'm not going to hurt you. The inmates of Arkham Asylum have broken out, and it's not safe to be roaming the streets right now.”

He smiled, a charming little gesture, and held a hand out to you. “I can take you home, you'll be safer indoors.”

You shook your head, words failing to escape in your fear of this new problem.

He frowned. “I’m sorry but, I'm going to have to insist. It's really not safe. I’d hate for you to get hurt.” He perked up a little as he spoke the next few words. “Are you injured? I know someone who can help, her name is Leslie, she's a very safe doctor. Or if you don't have anywhere to go, I can escort you to a safe place?”

You shook your head desperately. You wanted nothing more than to get away. Your legs were shaking.

Any further time spent in the presence of your soulmates was a risk. At any point one of them could tell him and you'd be doomed. Hell, he might already know!  

“I… I want to leave.” The words tumbled out, clumsy. “But not with you.”

The smile stayed on his face this time, plastered on. “It won’t be an inconvenience-” He tried.

“Please leave me alone.”

“It's really unsaf-”.

“Please leave me alone.”

“It will only take five-”.

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE!” You screamed, frustration and agony eclipsing into a fearful shout. You regretted it immediately, as it echoed through the streets. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your breath ran short.

Nightwing stood there, finally looking unsure. A part of you reveled in it, finally seeing how you always felt around them reflected on their form.

A fluttering sound broke the uncomfortable silence, a little robin flying down onto Nightwing’s shoulder.

“Robin..?” He muttered, more to himself than you. “Why are you here?”.

You meant to take the opportunity for what it was, to turn and run while you had the chance, but beady eyes turned towards you at the first movement you made.

Robin fluttered towards you, landing on your trembling hand. It gave a little coo, tilting its head a bit to stare at you. It seemed like it noticed your anxiety. It was admittedly a very cute gesture, something that acted like a balm to your scratched and raw mental state, but it didn't last for long.

“Wait…”. 

Your blood froze in your veins. Everything stopped.

“Are… are you…?”

You couldn't respond to his question. Your head spun, an undercurrent of anxiety questioning every option you could make. Your shakes increased. It was noticeable.

“Ah, hey!” It seemed he spotted it. “Don’t worry so much, I know you're so terrified because of what's going on, but now I know I can keep you safe.” His hands grabbed yours, a constricting grip. You tried to take a step back, but he kept you there, not budging from his grasp. Robin shifted a little in displeasure.

“We… can keep you safe.” His eyes beamed into yours, trying to convey a feeling of safety, of reassurance.

You were numb to everything but terror.

“I've told you this once.” You muttered. “And I didn't want to say it again.” You ripped his hands from yours, pushing him away. You grabbed Robin.

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!” You screamed, primal agony laced in your tone, your last efforts giving out.

Then, in a moment of desperation, you grabbed Robin, your littlest soul animal. And you threw him at Nightwing’s face.

His startled scream was music to your ears, as you raced out of the alleyway and down the street. If you were lucky, maybe Robin would be startled enough to give him a few scratches.

Things were finally, finally looking up. It had taken a lot. Gosh, it has taken so much from you. You couldn't go home anymore, both vigilante and villain now knew your name, but at the very least…

You could escape.

It was a mantra you chanted to yourself.

“I can escape. I can escape. I can escape.”

It remained in your brain as you ducked under windows and hid behind cars.

I can escape I can escape I can escape.

A slip of blue in the shadows was your only warning, before cruel pain pierced your arm. 

“Ack!” You clutched at it, noticing what could only be a dart now embedded in you. You ripped it out as you ran, hoping that would be it.

IcanescapeIcanescapeIcanescape-

The world started falling to pieces before your very eyes, a black void stealing the places of buildings, cars, wherever you looked.

Your rush turned into a stumble.

Escape-escape-escape-

You were limping through an alleyway when your limbs finally gave up on you. The adrenaline finally losing to the tranquiliser.

“Escape…” You mumbled.

You glanced up.

A dark shadow was the only thing you could see. A giant figure, clad in a long cape.

A resentful part of you thought that the cape would be a rather warm thing to snuggle up to.

A hand reached out from the darkness.

You passed out.

----

Happy Halloween!!

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! Actually, there won't be too many chapters left now, we're coming to the end of Reader's struggle. Ofc, I will be going extra's that aren't actual chapters, and they'll have some extra details that are excluded from Reader's pov.

Also, I definitely have to apologise for how long this one took. I do have my reasons! Had an ear infection, then a holiday (that was pretty neat actually) and currently I have COVID lol. So I was a bit busy there.

But Halloween deserves to be celebrated just as much as everyone deserves another chapter, so here you go!

It is a bit of a shame I won't be able to make an actual Halloween piece. Maybe I'll make something a few days after Halloween? How do people feel about a coraline inspired DC oneshot?

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger

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Tumblr just told me I can't tag anyone else, so the list ends here. I'll add the others in a comment!

[theskywithin]

What Your 12th House Whispers to You at Night

When the night feels heavy, return here. Your 12th house always has something to say, softly, between dreams.

Aries 12th House You have been the wild horse racing daylight, hooves striking sparks from the earth. But even the boldest steeds rest beneath the moon. Tonight, let the grass grow soft beneath you. There is no finish line here, only fields that stretch beyond fear, where you can breathe without running.

Taurus 12th House Like a garden in early spring, you cling to the soil, afraid of late frost. But trust the quiet bloom, the patient unfurling. Not every season comes to steal, some arrive only to kiss your roots and remind you: growth happens even when you close your eyes.

Gemini 12th House Your mind is a flock of birds that never quite lands at dusk. Let them settle on twilight branches tonight. Let the sky hold them for you, so you can rest beneath their wings and dream not of answers, but of peace.

Cancer 12th House You are a seashell listening to distant tides, carrying the ocean in your chest. Tonight, let the waves cradle you. They do not come to crash, but to remind you that home has always been the rhythm beneath your ribs.

Leo 12th House You are the hearth that burns bright for others, but tonight, let your fire be a lantern hung inside your own chest. Let it flicker softly for no one but yourself. Even the sun sets to rest, trusting that it will rise once more.

Virgo 12th House You are the weaver of invisible threads, mending what no one else sees. But tonight, lay down your needle and let the tapestry remain unfinished. The night sky never stitches its stars into patterns, yet we still call it beautiful.

Libra 12th House You have been the river bending for every stone, shaping yourself to soften the edges of others. But tonight, flow straight and true. Let the water carry your own reflection, undistorted and free, as it was always meant to be.

Scorpio 12th House You are the cave that holds forgotten treasures, hidden beneath echoes of storms. Tonight, light a lantern in your depths. Let its glow reveal not monsters, but marvels, the jewels you thought were shadows all along.

Sagittarius 12th House You are the arrow that dreams of flight, always aimed at distant skies. But tonight, rest in the bow’s quiet curve. The horizon will wait for you, and dreams that matter will not vanish in the pause.

Capricorn 12th House You have been the mountain, stone-faced against the weather, bearing silent witness to the weight of years. But tonight, let the clouds wrap around you like a shawl. Even mountains deserve to be kissed by mist, softened by time, cradled by the sky.

Aquarius 12th House You are the constellation dreaming of new shapes, threading stars into patterns unseen. Tonight, unfasten your maps. Let the cosmos rearrange itself without your guiding hand. Even in chaos, beauty is born.

Pisces 12th House You are the tide that forgets its own shore, drifting into the dreams of others. Tonight, let the moon pull you homeward. Let your waters gather in quiet bays, and remember: you are not just the ocean seeking land, you are the depth it surrenders to.

[dark-l-angel]

Omg love you know what I have been thinking of? You know that trend on TikTok of filling a t-shirt with painted missed on some type of symbol ?

A while ago I saw a girl putting her paint kisses on a Batman symbol shape, and I just thought of dick grayson’s reaction.

I’m not one for cheesy things, but I just imagine doing that shirt for him (with a nightwing symbol ofc) and I just know he would be over the moon 😭

A/N : a full lineup of Batboys(and Daddy Bat himself) getting gifted a shirt with a symbol kissed all over by you? Each one uniquely marked with your lips? That's not love... that's psychological warfare wrapped in soft cotton.

Batfam x Reader - making them a kiss-painted shirts

You didn’t mean to start a war. Really.

It began as a silly idea, something you saw on TikTok: paint your lips, kiss a symbol onto a shirt, and gift it to someone you love.

So naturally… you made five.

Five shirts. Five symbols. Five completely different reactions.

Dick Grayson :

You saved his for last. Blue paint, the Nightwing symbol sketched lovingly across the chest. Every inch of it smudged with perfect, pouty kisses.

You don’t even get a full sentence out before he scoops you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

"You kissed the bird?"

"I kissed it a lot."

"You kissed the bird."

He’s spinning you in the kitchen, laughing like a man who just got proposed to.

"I’m never washing this shirt. I’m wearing it to bed. I'm wearing it to my funeral. Babe, you just made me a relic."

He takes a photo of it next to his abs. Posts it. Captions it: "She kissed me. On the bird. I win."

Jason Todd

You’re not sure how he’ll react, so you play it cool. His shirt is black, the bat symbol in red, your kisses in blood-red paint like lipstick stains on a crime scene.

He stares.

Long.

Silent.

Then:

"You do realize I’m gonna wreck this shirt jerking off to the idea of you doing it, right?"

You smack his arm. He grins like the menace he is and tosses it over his shoulder.

"Make me one with your real lipstick next time. And wear nothing but heels and a red lingerie while doing it."

Tim Drake

You hand him his shirt during one of his 3 a.m. caffeine binges, expecting a distracted glance.

Nope.

His tired eyes snap wide the second he registers the symbol… covered in crimson lip prints.

"Wait. Wait. You did this? With your mouth?"

He holds it like it’s a sacred text.

"This is… statistically speaking, the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. Do you have any idea what this’ll do to my oxytocin levels?".

You shrug. He immediately pulls you into his lap, shirt in one hand, your waist in the other.

"New rule. You don’t do arts and crafts for anyone but me."

Damian Wayne

You had to custom-print a tiny “R” logo for his, but it’s the only one with perfectly centered, crimson kisses all around it.

When you give it to him, he squints. Tilts his head.

"Did you damage your lips during this process?"

"No?"

"Hmm. Then I suppose I have no objection."

He immediately puts it on.

And doesn’t take it off.

For like, two days.

You catch him in the mirror, touching one of the kiss marks with the barest hint of a smirk.

"You have excellent aim, Beloved."

Bruce Wayne

Now this one? You expected confusion. Embarrassment. A gruff "thank you."

What you didn’t expect was the silence.

He stares at the bat symbol covered in red lips. Your lips.

He touches one with his gloved fingers like it's sacred.

"…You kissed every inch of it."

"Yeah."

"On purpose."

"Yeah, Bruce, that was kind of the point."

He sets the shirt down. Walks to you. Cups your face like you’re the only thing in the world not made of shadows.

"Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Needless to say… he doesn’t wear it in public.

But he keeps it in the Batcave.

Right next to his suit.

Framed.

The conclusion my lovely lil kitten is:

no. You didn’t mean to start a war.

But now they’re all in quiet competition, seeing who gets the most kisses next time. Jason’s trying to make you paint his helmet. Tim’s trying to code a program that lets him detect how many lip marks are truly present. Dick’s commissioning a second shirt. Damian’s been spotted sketching his own designs for "future projects with your mouth" and Bruce? Bruce just added a lock to the Batcave display case.

You win, baby.

You always do.

[cloud-ya]

Sega managed to give Shadow wings AU before I could

[astra-ravana]

Befriending And Working With Crows

Crows have long been associated with witches due to their behavior, mystery, and connection to the supernatural. In folklore, they are seen as messengers between worlds, carrying secrets and omens. Witches were believed to communicate with or shape-shift into crows, using them as familiars to gather information or perform magical tasks. Their black feathers and eerie caws made them symbols of transformation, death, and hidden knowledge. This connection persists in modern witchcraft, where crows are often seen as guides for those practicing divination, shadow work, and spirit communication.

Crows are among the most intelligent birds, possessing problem-solving skills, advanced memory, and the ability to use tools. Studies have shown that they can recognize human faces, plan for the future, and even understand cause and effect. Their complex social structures and ability to communicate information indicate a high level of cognitive function, comparable to that of primates. Crows have been observed crafting tools from leaves and twigs, solving multi-step puzzles, and even holding grudges against perceived threats. Their intelligence makes them highly adaptable and capable of thriving in diverse environments.

Crows are highly intuitive, mysterious, and deeply connected to witchcraft, omens, and spirit work. These birds are known for their symbolism in folklore, association with deities like The Morrigan, Odin, and Hekate, and their ability to form strong bonds with humans. Befriending crows can be a rewarding experience, offering companionship, spiritual messages, and even small “gifts” from the birds themselves. Connecting with the crows isn't hard as they tend to be everywhere and their bravery and curiosity makes them willing to approach certain humans. They have senses of humor, empathy, critical thinking skills, and a lifespan of up to 30 years, all of which makes them excellent companions. Get to know the crows in your neighborhood.

🐦‍⬛Understanding Crow Behavior

Before approaching crows, it's essential to understand their nature:

• They are highly intelligent – Crows can recognize human faces, solve puzzles, and even speak.

• They have strong social bonds – They communicate within their flocks and even warn each other about potential dangers.

• They can be wary – Earning a crow’s trust takes patience, consistency, and respect.

• They have fantastic memories – A crow won't forget the face of a human that was kind to it and especially not that of one who was rude.

🐦‍⬛Attracting Crows to Your Space

To encourage crows to visit you regularly, follow these steps:

1. Offer Food Consistently

Crows love high-energy foods. Some of their favorites include:

• Unsalted peanuts (in-shell or shelled) – A crow favorite!

• Sunflower seeds – Nutritious and easy to scatter.

• Fruits (apples, grapes, berries) – Fresh or dried.

• Leftover meat scraps – A natural part of their diet.

• Hard-boiled eggs – A great protein source.

What to Avoid:

• Never feed crows processed, salty, or sugary foods.

• Avoid bread – it lacks nutrition.

• Do not leave large amounts of food – too much can attract unwanted pests.

2. Choose a Safe Feeding Spot

• Select a quiet, open area where they feel comfortable landing.

• Keep a routine – feeding them at the same time each day builds trust.

• If possible, create a dedicated offering space, like a small platform.

3. Provide Fresh Water

• A shallow birdbath or bowl of clean water can help attract crows, especially in dry seasons.

• Change the water frequently to keep it fresh.

🐦‍⬛Earning Their Trust

1. Observe From a Distance

• At first, let crows come and go without interference.

• Avoid sudden movements or loud noises.

• If they seem cautious, step back and let them approach at their own pace.

2. Speak to Them

• Crows recognize human voices and can distinguish between friendly and hostile tones.

• Greet them softly or whistle a simple tune when feeding them.

• Some witches even give their crows names, reinforcing a bond.

3. Leave Small Offerings

• In addition to food, place shiny objects (small trinkets, marbles, beads) as “gifts” for crows.

• Some crows may return the favor by leaving tokens like buttons, feathers, or shells.

🐦‍⬛Building a Magickal Relationship

Once crows recognize you as a friend, you can incorporate them into your spiritual practice:

1. Crow as a Spirit Ally

• If a crow visits during ritual work or divination, take note—its presence may carry a message.

• Crows can serve as psychopomps, guiding spirits between realms.

2. Divination & Omens

• A single crow cawing may indicate a warning or message.

• A group (a murder of crows) could symbolize change, transformation, or ancestral spirits.

• Here's some more information about counting crows.

3. Offering a Sacred Space

• Create a small altar outside with natural elements where you place food and gifts.

• Meditate near their space, listening to their calls and energy.

• Put up wards and cast protection magick for the crows.

🐦‍⬛Strengthening the Bond

• Be patient – Some crows take weeks or months to trust humans.

• Stay consistent – Regular feeding and positive interactions reinforce the bond.

• Respect their autonomy – Crows are wild and should never be captured or forced to interact.

🐦‍⬛Crow Spells

Crows can assist with your magick as well, through their presence and the lovely black feathers they often leave as gifts or lose through natural shedding. Here are some spells you can do with your crows.

Crow’s Omen Spell (For Divination & Messages)

Needed:

• A quiet outdoor space where crows gather

• A small offering (unsalted nuts, shiny objects, or seeds)

Instructions:

Sit in a place where crows are present and place the offering nearby. Close your eyes and ask the crows for a message:

“Messengers of fate, winged and wise,

Show me the truth with your keen eyes.

A sign, a word, a lesson true,

I call on crows to send their view.”

Observe their behavior. Watch how they move, call, or interact. Their actions may symbolize an answer to your question. Thank the crows and leave the offering as a sign of respect.

Crow’s Wisdom Spell (For Guidance & Insight)

Needed:

• A feather from a crow

• A small black candle

• A piece of paper and a pen

Instructions:

Light the black candle and sit quietly, focusing on a question or situation where you need insight. Hold the crow feather and say:

“Wise crow, keeper of secrets and sight,

Bring me knowledge, clear my mind this night.

Show me the path, help me see,

Reveal the truth and guide me free.”

Meditate for a few moments, then write down any thoughts, visions, or feelings that come to you. Let the candle burn down safely or snuff it out to use again.

Crow’s Shadow Cloak (For Invisibility & Stealth)

Needed:

• A black cloth or scarf

• A  crow feather

• A small mirror

Instructions:

Hold the black feather and visualize yourself surrounded by a shadowy aura. Place the mirror face down on the cloth, symbolizing the reflection being hidden. Whisper:

“Dark-winged shadow, silent flight,

Hide me well, keep me from sight.

As the crow vanishes into the night,

Let me fade from every light.”

Wrap the feather in the cloth and carry it when you need to go unnoticed.

Crow’s Omen Spell (For Divination & Answers)

Needed:

• No physical tools, just observation

Instructions:

Find a place where crows are naturally present. Ask your question either aloud or in your mind.

Observe the crows for signs:

• A single crow cawing: A warning or negative response.

• A pair of crows flying together: A positive or cooperative outcome.

• A group of crows circling or gathering: Major change or important news coming.

• A crow bringing or dropping something near you: A strong affirmation or message from the spiritual realm.

Thank the crows for their wisdom.

Crow’s Curse Spell (For Revenge & Justice)

Needed:

• A black feather given by a crow

• A piece of paper with the target’s name

• A dark stone (obsidian, onyx, or jet)

Instructions:

Write the target’s name on the paper and place the crow’s feather over it. Hold the dark stone in your dominant hand and visualize the negative energy returning to its source. Say:

“As the crow flies, swift and free,

Let justice return threefold to thee.

No more harm, no more pain,

What was given, be reclaimed.”

Let the feather sit overnight. The next day, release it into the wind or place it somewhere the crows frequent.

Crow’s Guardian Spell (For Protection & Psychic Defense)

Needed:

• A crow feather

• A small black candle

• A piece of black string

Instructions:

Light the candle and hold the feather. Close your eyes and visualize a crow circling around you, forming a protective barrier. Tie a knot in the black string while chanting:

“Black-winged guardian, fierce and free,

Stand between harm and me.

No ill may pass, no foe may near,

On shadowed wings, keep my path clear.”

Carry the string as a charm of protection, or keep the feather in your home as a spiritual ward.

By observing, working with, and honoring crows, you can create powerful bonds that enhance protection, divination, communication, and justice in your magical practice. If nurtured properly, crows can become lifelong allies, offering wisdom, companionship, and even protection. Treat them well, and they may even  become your loyal feathered familiars.

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[nightingale-prompts]

The Eldritch Coffeehouse-DCxDP prompt-part 2(I guess)

Part 1

Elle had a way of convincing people. Like how she convinced Damian Wayne that they were now best friends and to come over to her family's business after-school.

Damian was only going along with this because of the prodding of his family to make friends. This wasn't something that came easy to him as no one would understand him. But Nightingale had been more understanding than most in his life. She was very...nice. She had these big ideas that always went ahead of her and plans that were larger than life. She always had too much energy and found it hard in school to get it out. Naturally, she was head of the track team but she'd always complain about wanting to join the music club.

Jon had met her once while trying to sneak up on them at the end of the day. She pinned him in a triangle chokehold until Damian called her off. Damian didn't call her off immediately though.

She was still more apologetic than he liked.

"I can make it up to you guys. Let's go to my family's café! We can eat ourselves sick on pastries and cake! My brother should still be making hot chocolate right now!" She told them.

Damian was nice enough to tell Dick where he was going and to not wait up. Alfred was already in the car in front of the school and drove the three to the...graveyard?

"Thank you Mister Pennyworth! Do you want to join us?" Elle asked loudly but politely.

Alfred accepted graciously and agreed to stay for a cup of tea before heading back. He would come pick up Damian later.

The walk through the graveyard was daunting for Jon and only for Jon. It wasn't as scary as he thought since it was only the afternoon and the weather was warm. A few cats rested on tombstones soaking in the heat. A few birds gathered here and there hunting for worms and seeds. There were food and water dishes here and there for the felines and fresh seeds sprinkled on the grass for the birds.

"I usually clean and change the food dishes in the morning. But Dan likes to feed the birds."

Elle walked the row of mausoleums until she stopped at one and pushed the stone door open and a skipped down a stairs and opened the smooth mahogany door in the café.

Behind the counter a young man stood pouring drinks.

"Elle you're back. Take this cup to table 3." He said putting a cup and saucer on a serving tray.

"I just got here! At least let me change or tell you we have guests." She whined but picked up the trey and marched over to the table.

"Guests? I'm sorry. Welcome to the Catacomb Club. How can we make your afterlife?" He said smoothly.

"Elle said we could eat sweets," Jon spoke up first and Damian elbowed him.

"Oh? Well, we have a batch of leftovers from this morning. Since you're her school friends you can get some from the kitchen." The barista said.

"Yay! Thanks Danny!" Elle had returned and opened the door to the backroom to grab some fresh plates and loading them up with sweets.

"Anything I can get for you, sir?" Danny asked Alfred.

"Just an Earl Gray. Or an Early Grave as you call it on the menu." Alfred said.

***

Elle presents a variable buffet of sweets to the boys. She really meant it when she said eat themselves sick.

The menu had no shortage of available snacks:

Tombstone Tarts – Mini fruit tarts with gravestone-shaped pastry toppers. (Jazz's pick)

Phantom Opera Cake – Layers of dark chocolate and coffee mousse with a smoky glaze.(Save a slice for Danny's SPECIAL guest (Jazz STOP)

Ethereal Cheesecake – A white chocolate cheesecake with a "foggy" vanilla glaze (You can just slap the word ethereal on things when you can't come up with something witty.) (Watch me)

Shadow Éclairs – Black cocoa éclairs filled with blood orange cream. (DANNY STOP EATING THE ORANGES) (no)

Soulful Scones – Charcoal scones served with berry jam and clotted cream.

Midnight Mocha Cupcakes – Chocolate cupcakes with espresso buttercream and a ghostly fondant topper. (Ew fondant)

Cemetery Soil – Chocolate pudding "dirt" with gummy worms and cookie gravestones. (Dani ate all the gummy worms again)

Wraith Cupcakes – Vanilla cupcakes with smoky gray frosting and sugar ghost toppers. (Dani's favorite)

Blackberry Bat Muffins – Dark muffins with blackberry compote and bat-shaped toppers. (Save some for that Cass girl)

Candied Skull Pops – Lollipops shaped like skulls in eerie colors.

Necropolis Nougat – Black and white nougat with bits of candied nuts and dried fruit. (Dan's favorite) (Weirdo)

Spirit’s Whisper Bark – White and dark chocolate bark with ghostly swirls and edible glitter.(please don't let Dani eat the glitter)

Moonlight Marshmallows – Homemade marshmallows in ghost or crescent moon shapes. (Danny's favorite)

Blood Velvet Rolls – Red velvet Swiss rolls filled with red cream cheese frosting. (Dan's favorite) (you can't have more than one favorite) (watch me)

Just like the rest of the menu there were comments going back and forth.

"The workers seem to argue constantly." Damian said bitting into a tart

Jon was making his way through the cake pops first.

"Well, we are family. We argue all the time but we don't mean it. Although I'm still mad they didn't like my dessert list." Elle sighed.

"Like what?" Damian asked.

"I had so many ideas like Eyeball pops filled with jelly, Bloody Bones white chocolate covered in raspberry syrup, or Maggot Macaroons with gummy worms in them," Elle said wiggling her fingers to mimic worms. "But Jazz said they were too gross sounding to sell. Humans have such weak stomachs."

Damian wanted to point out that Jon wasn't human and even he turned green. Damian on the other hand was intrigued. Elle was always entertaining to listen to.

The three enjoyed their snacks after Alfred finished his tea and took off.

Jon's Kryptonian appetite helped get through the bulk of it because Damian stopped short to not spoil his appetite.

This was wise since the Cafe preparing to switch to its bar setting with a more lively Jazz band and dinner menu.

Jon groaned at the thought of more food as he rested his face on the cool polished wood that smelled faintly of rose incense. He should have noticed by now that something as off but his stomach has been a major distraction. Had it been his father then who was trained to sense the issue the jig would have been up.

You see, they were the only mortals in the room.

Not one heartbeat could be heard. Jon should have known so much earlier when Elle managed to surprise him without her heart rate going up.

"Dani- I mean Elle?" A voice from the kitchen called.

A young woman with long red locks came into view. Her dress, a 50s style black tea-length poodle skirt. Instead of the usual poodle pattern on the hem, there was a white skeletal cat. She had on a pair of balck frilled short gloves. Other than her dress she wore an apron with a black ribcage design that matched the uniforms of the other workers/family members here. Her teal eyes softened when she saw Elle sitting with her friends

"Yeah, Jazz?" Elle asked.

"Do you still want to go on stage tonight or do you want to stay with your friends? And do you still want dinner?" Jazz asked in succession.

"I'm still going to do my set. And can I get carbonara and a glass of...um..." Elle struggled to find the word for the liquid that every undead in the area came here for. "My medicine."

Damian's ear picked up the hesitation in her voice.

"You take a perception?" Damian said perhaps a bit thoughtless since not everyone wants to talk about their medical issues. But he had never seen her take medicine at school and didn't know a medication that would be taken later in the day that wasn't also taken early.

"Kinda, it's something I have to take to keep living. But it like it, the juice I mean. You'd like it too but you don't need it. Dan is kinda stingy with who gets some. You types aren't allowed. Only members." Elle knew that this place was an open secret. It's not like they kept their ghostly nature secret. Everyone just thinks they are keeping up the theme while they were all completely serious. Besides lying isn't their nature.

Still, Elle wasn't being completely honest which isn't something that comes naturally to her. Bending the truth will have to do.

Damian let it go for now. He didn't need to know her medical history...yet.

Jon was taking a nap now anyways. Damian stole his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to the Kent family in case they wanted to know where Jonathan was.

Ellehad to change clothes into her uniform and grab her violin. It wasn't a surprise to Damian who knew she like music but he had never heard her play. Now she was on stage playing with the folk band as the guest clapped and danced.

Jazz brought out some food for them to eat while Danny traded places with a tall burly man who was definitely the eldest brother.

As Damian ate he listened to Elle play...well the band play but it was mostly Elle who he was listening for. He heard a familiar voice from behind his booth and when he looked over it was none other than Jason fucking Todd talking to the bartender. Talking? I meant failing miserably to flirt and having the tables turned on him easily.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Shaken and Stirred.

I was really inspired by this fan art and was plagued by thoughts of a pathetic whiny lil meow meow 🥺 I don't drink myself, but I love the mature aesthetic of it and wanted to... write a drunken confession... to close off 2024...

… DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT OTL wait no please J WORD I CAN EXPLAIN

***Content warning: Alcohol consumption, though Leona is the only one drinking. (The legal age is 20 in Japan; I’m going to assume this for Twisted Wonderland.) Everyone else is having sparkling juice :v***

Imagine this…

"Feel like joining us for dinner? For old time's sake.”

The invitation had come so casually, the same way a housecat might drop a mangled rat or bird at your feet. To them, an easy, everyday act. To you, a surprise you weren’t quite certain how to feel about.

You didn't have plans for the evening, nor a reason to refuse, and while you were busy weighing the pros and cons, you found yourself strung along in their outing. Muscular arms wrangling you into the herd, boisterous yells welcoming you back. An honorary member, the Savanaclaw students had branded you, recognized by their king.

Now you sit in a barstool, fingers on the rim of a cup clouded with condensation, absentmindedly swirling its contents. Juice, its sweetness stifled by melted ice.

Some would call you a lamb willingly waltzing into a lion's den. They're wrong. You are no beast, but a curious observer of them. This is a prime opportunity for that.

It’s dim, the glowing jellyfish set low, faint lights swimming overhead. The music is loud, a departure from the Mostro Lounge’s usual soft jazz. The bass is even louder, rattling your bones like a set of steel drums. Rowdy patrons clink cups, chant at their friends to chug, belt out laughter straight from the bellies. You can barely hear your own heartbeat. The sounds of nightlife drown it out.

Jack lurks in a quiet, shadowed corner, his back against the wall. Muscled arms folded, he has assumed a stern stance but wears a small, fond smile in spite of himself. Ruggie has climbed onto a table, raising a jet-black card to the waiting mob. It’s their golden meal ticket.

“All-you-can-eat food and drinks on Leona-san! Long live the king!!” he roars, and the others echo his excitement.

“LONG LIVE THE KING!!”

You chuckle to yourself. First he rents out the entire lounge, then he decides to feed everyone for the day? How generous of him. Guess the big guy’s going all out.

You scan the restaurant in search of him, seeking out his familiar visage. Long, wild tresses. Sharp eyes, emerald flecked with golden flakes, like the sunlight shining through verdant leaves. The scar that speared his left side. A noble aura, his lazy feline grace.

Leona Kingscholar always sticks out in a crowd, commands too much attention with his mere existence. “That man is only good for his face,” Vil would bitterly hawk, “his only redeeming feature.” And he was right, to some extent. Tall, dark, and handsome are all apt descriptors for Savanaclaw’s dorm leader. Leona is all that and more.

Your pulse quickens.

His shape—you can’t discern it from the myriad of bodies collected in the lounge. A puzzle piece missing from the box of your most treasured memories.

“Looking for someone?”

The question is low and nonchalant, almost musical in its own right, yet you can so clearly hear it rising above the bumping bass. Your blood hums in anticipation, already knowing who the voice belongs to.

Leona has slipped into the open seat beside you, nursing an Old-Fashioned filled halfway with a strongly scented amber liquid. An orb of ice chills it, so clear cut you can see through to the other side. He sits with an effortless confidence upon his throne, as though he—not Azul—owns the damn place. You'd believe it too, from how the patrons are shouting his name like a mantra.

There’s no greetings to exchange. No need to.

"I think I've found what I was looking for," you tell him teasingly. “Nice of you to throw this little get-together. What’s the occasion? Don’t think I remember when you were in this good of a mood.”

“Who said I was in a good mood?” he grumbles, leaning onto the counter. “Didn't feel like being left alone with my thoughts tonight is all.”

“You, brooding? Never."

He makes a sound as if repressing a dry laugh. “You think yourself clever for an herbivore, don’t you?”

“Maybe. Not as clever as you, though.”

“Hmph. You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego."

It’s comfortable, this trading of quips. Safe. The conversation flowing so easily, like wine poured. It is the only true way you can stand on the same level as him.

Leona lifts the glass and downs the rest of his drink. From the way he winces, it must burn on the way down. You wrinkle your nose at the sharp smell that meets it. Earth spiced with hypnotic smoke and the acrid pang of sorrow.

“They serve alcohol here? I thought those jars on the shelves were full of tea blends.”

Leona scoffs. “If you know the right people and the right strings to pull. The cephalopunk said his establishment was more than happy to provide for me as long as I shelled out and signed some liability waiver.”

“… Does the headmaster know about this?”

“He doesn’t need to know.” Leona smirks, placing his newly drained drink down. Immediately, a staff member appears and replaces it with a fresh glass. “What’s he gonna do, anyway? Sue me? I’m of legal drinking age, and ‘s not like I’m passing out alcohol to minors”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re so bad.”

“The worst,” he agrees sarcastically. “And you choose to keep me as company.”

“I’m but your humble accomplice, sir.” You jokingly salute to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Rough day?”

He sighs in a way that gives the impression of saying, Like you wouldn't believe. But that tail of his swings back and forth like a patient pendulum, refusing to reveal his secrets. “This isn’t about me.”

“It literally is.” You pass a not-so-subtle glance at his second helping of whisky.

"I'm the host. It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with my feelings, now would it?"

You don't miss how he proceeds to take a swig right after his claim, how readily he consumes poison, even when it hurts him. Alcohol, insults. Pain, self-inflicted.

He has an arsenal of tricks and techniques to deflect—partaking in vices, one of them. Leona's magic rendered fortresses to sand, but he is an expert at building his own structures just the same. Studier, even. Imperious.

Attempting to scale the walls directly, you know, won't get you very far. Not when he has gone to such great lengths to guard his heart. There's a moat with leering crocodiles, barbed wire decorating the gates, a drawbridge firmly closed.

You attempt to breach the subject, toeing the line between testing his patience and challenging it. “What is it that you want then, Leona?”

He falls quiet, staring at the remains of his beverage. It’s like the sphere of ice the whisky swims with is a crystal ball, and he’s peering into it, seeking answers. His verdant eyes shift a shade deeper, darker.

When he’s solemnly silent like this, he’s contemplating. His next move in a game of chess, his next words in a debate. Plotting, scheming.

"A distraction," he declares at last, in that resolute tone he uses when he’s set on capturing a prize.

"A... distraction."

He nods, angling his head toward the noisy lounge. Ruggie is rallying some of the guys for a round of root beer pong. Jack’s trapped in a headlock, the hyena urging him to join in. They’re rowdy and ruddy from the exhilaration that comes with competition.

“Get my mind off of things. Take me away from all of this for a spell."

“How, exactly…?”

Leona drains his second glass. The server slides him a third. "Let's start with your day. From there, ramble about whatever.”

Amuse me, he seems to say, even if his mouth doesn’t. The twinkle has returned to his eyes, brightening them like the stars do the milky way.

You gulp, feeling compelled to obey.

Gathering your thoughts and wetting your lips, you begin. "This morning..."

The story opens like a newborn finding its footing for the first time: clumsily. Granted the space to expand, you do. Slowly, the conventions come to you. Balance, coordination. Each sentence is like a step, taken one at a time.

You run through your daily schedule and, reciting it out loud, you realize how terribly mundane it is. Classes, chores, chums. The usual. Worry flickers through you—Will he be satisfied with this?—but he only gestures for you to continue.

“Ah, so I picked up this new hobby recently…”

Leona props his face up on one hand, curled fingers resting against a cheek. He watches you with a look that isn’t quite predator on prey but isn’t quite human to human either. It’s intimate in a way that makes you feel exposed even when you avert your gaze, calculating enough to make you feel like a complex equation he has yet to solve.

“When something’s hard to get, it makes you want it all the more,” he had once told you. The memory surfaces like bubbles in a flute of champagne. Then it pops, fizzling away in a fine mist, and it is gone.

Moments like this are magic, you think.

You slip into a cadence, a rhythm. You lose count of how many stories you tell, how many whiskies Leona slams down in the span of them.

And still, the glowing green of his irises never seems to stray far from you. Vibrant and pulsating, like plants with heartbeats of their own, swaying in time with a stray breeze. Seeking something.

You don’t know if that concerns or thrills you.

"Ahahah…” You allow yourself a chuckle as you stretch in your seat. “This is so strange, isn’t it? I never thought I'd be rubbing elbows with a prince this time last year.”

Leona responds with a noncommittal “Mmmmm.”

He lowers his gaze to his drink number who knows?, his honey-colored reflection gazing back. When he blinks, his lashes seem to fall and flutter in slow motion.

You wonder what he's thinking, why he's thinking.

You reach for him. Carefully, gently, as if approaching a wounded animal. He is wounded--in that frightening way that leaves no visible marks, no scars.

"Leona..."

You hear your name being called before you can tap his shoulder. You look--there's Jack, waving at you. Ruggie has his hands cupped over his mouth.

"Wanna participate in an arm-wrestling contest? Jack's the reigning champ!"

"Oh, um--" you try to respond, to explain that you're preoccupied. The blaring music washes you out.

Ruggie makes a face of confusion and shouts again: "What?!"

You start to rise from your stool and turn to him, raising your volume. "I said..."

You stop. Your wrist is ensnared in Leona's grasp, cuffing you to the spot.

“… Don’t go." His command cuts through the noise, startling you with its softness, its contrasting clarity.

"It'll only be a second. It's too hard to talk over the--"

"You must've not heard me the firs'time," he interrupts, his words slightly slurring together, one melting into the next. Leona pouts like a child. "I’m orderin' you to stay. Stay here, with me."

"You've been awfully bossy today."

"Cuz you keep bein' a pain in my tail. How'm I supposed to..." The more the man babbles, the more confidence drains from his voice. His proud lion's roar shrinking and shrinking to a kitten's mewl. Tiny, vulnerable. "Don't go. Don't... leave. Everyone else has. They always do."

Non-sarcastic pleading? From Leona?

You eye him in concern. "Being serious for a sec, are you okay?"

He winces, like speaking or touching you is a considerable effort. You're set free, his body slumping as he lays down at the bar. His mane spreads out around him like a pool of chocolate. Leona cradles himself against the cushion of an arm, groaning into it.

Definitely not okay.

You pass Ruggie a firm shake of the head--a no to his offer--then settle back into your seat, returning to Leona.

"I'm here," you reassure him with a soft push against the middle of his chest. "See? I'm not going anywhere." Then you poke him on his forehead. "What's up? You're thinking of something."

He peers at you from behind an arm and snorts. "Thinkin' about how you run your mouth a lot."

"You told me to. I'm just following orders--don't you like that? You're so hard to please."

"I have high standards," he says simply.

"Well..." You lift a brow expectantly. "Am I meeting them?"

This manages to draw out a bark of laughter from him, however strained it sounds. He fixates on you, the start of a scowl upon his searching expression.

Assessing you.

“… Why?” Leona asks suddenly. No proper answer. Instead, an inquiry thrown back in retaliation.

“Why what?”

“Why d’you bother stickin’ around? Why d’you…” A pause, as if the verb that comes next is capable of killing if not handled correctly. “Why do you care so much?”

You shrug. “You don’t really need a reason to care about someone. Anyone with a heart would, right? You’d do the same for me or any of your dorm members.”

“And what do you know about heart?” He fumbles for his drink, but you slyly slide it out of reach. A growl of frustration. “All I got’s a big black hole where my heart should be.”

“That’s not true,” you protest stubbornly. “Your students say so many good things about their dorm leader. They all really look up to you.”

“Hah, as if.” He lifts his head and slams it on the table. “I failed’m. What good’s a king if he can’t produce results? What good’s tryin’ if all there is at the end of the tunnel’s darkness? Can’t even dispatch the damn lizard or beat ‘m at his own game…

You frown. “Hey. hey! Don’t talk about yourself like that… and stop doing that, you’re going to injure yourself.”

Leona doesn’t seem to register anything you say. He continues deliriously mumbling to himself, the alcohol having wiped away his inhibitions and all the cards he so often kept close to his chest.

“I never get what I want,” he complains, dragging himself up—but he sways and is forced to hunch forward on his chair, elbows on the counter for support. “Never, ever. No matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I work… It all comes crumbling down eventually.”

His hair covers his face the same way the strands of a weeping willow do. You can’t see what kind of an expression is making. Do you want to see it?

He’s sinking, you realize. The same claws that struggle for a firm grip on the rocky ledge he dangles from, the same claws that render enemies to ashes—they don’t help him against crashing waves, the swamp that drags him down, down, down, into its murky depths. No sunlight, no air.

“The crown… the interdorm tournament... love, respect, admiration... Everything slips through m’fingers like sand. It’s some cruel, sick joke. Must be m’fate as the prince with naught.”

“Leona..."

Is this what haunts you every time you're alone in your room? The thoughts that you're scared of visiting you every night... What you needed a distraction from?

“Get my mind off of things," he had said. "Take me away from all of this for a spell."

There's an ache in your chest. The dull, throbbing pain that comes at the end of reading a sad story. His story.

But it's not the end of it, right? It can't be.

Your fingers tangle in his tresses and brush them aside. From behind the curtain, he peers at you like some stray cat having retreated into its cardboard box. And you meet him without hesitation.

"... Hey," you manage. "I think you've had enough. You're starting to say all this... unkind stuff about yourself, and you're not having fun anymore. Can you walk? Let's get you back to Savanaclaw and have you lie down."

Leona sways slightly. Even drunk, his tone is haughty and shreds into you like claws. "You can't tell me what t'do."

"You're the host," you insist with a smile. The words are his, borrowed, sharpened, and repurposed in your possession. "It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with your feelings, now would it?"

He stares at you, eyes blown wide. Then his lids lower, lashes shading his view of you.

"Why... Why d'you hafta be like thish? This would be sho much easier if y'didn’t look at me like that."

"L-Like what?"

Leona inches closer. He usually smells of sun and soil, but all of that has been smothered by the reek of booze. Heat radiates from his face, flushed from liquid courage, and hits yours.

"Like there's still a chance for me." He speaks clearly and concisely, each syllable a brick laid out and sandwiched with mortar to the next. Pouring all his energy into them. "Like you still believe in me."

"Because I do. Is that so wrong?" You're unsure of the answer--a part of you, dreading it.

Leona counters with another question. It is tinged with anger, irritation. "Why can’t you be like the others and just give up already? It'd save you a lot of trouble."

"I can't bring myself to leave you hanging on the edge of a cliff. We all want a hand sometimes to lift us up when we're down, so... I want to be that for you. And it seems like you could use that hand to get you out of your troubles right about now."

His lip trembles. Leona's voice comes out huskily. "I hate that dumb, wide-eyed look of yours. So full of hope. When you look at me like that… it makes me think I might still be able to have you.”

“You already have me, dummy. I’m right here, remember?”

“No.” His gaze is intense, almost pulsating. He has a way of scrutinizing that lays you bare before him, pinning you in place and making you inadvertently squirm. “Not in the way I want you t'be.”

Your heart stops, as if he has seized it in his grasp. One squeeze, and he can crush it. It's a mercy he doesn't, even as you erupt into a flurry of confusion, an inferno engulfing you.

"What?" you whisper, scarcely believing your ears. "Wh-What do you mean by that...?"

THUNK!

His balance caves. Leona keels over, the weight of his large body toppling onto yours like a domino crashing into the next one in a sequence.

His head lands on your shoulder, neatly nestling into the junction of your collarbone and neck. Arms loosely snake around your hips, hugging them, his tail wrapping around a leg like a ribbon decorating a pillar. A throaty groan escapes him.

Panic bolts through your muscle and bone.

Your immediate instinct is to shove him off—but he’s heavy and inebriated, and it’s hard for you to fend off the warmth pressed against you. He’s not playing fair. Is he doing this on purpose? You shouldn’t be surprised; he never does.

His low purr tickles you, his breath feathering across your bare skin. He sounds half asleep, caught in that magical twilight realm between the waking world and dreams. “Is it okay… for someone like me to fall in love with someone like you?”

Love?

Four letters, one simple word.

Your surroundings dullen, the chatter and the laughter and the music floating far away. You become acutely aware of all of the places where he touches you, of every spot where you connect. There are so many people gathered in the lounge, but all you can perceive is him: Leona, Leona Kingscholar.

Your mind races, set to a frantic pace like wildebeests rampaging.

Love, the thing with wings that soars high above the clouds. Love, the golden light that brings life to the lands. Love, the wellspring so many drink from.

He feels all of that for you?

It feels like I'm dreaming. Am I dreaming?

"D-Do you really mean that, Leona?" You need to know. You must confirm it. "That you... love me?"

Silence.

“L-Leona…?” you stutter, lightly tapping his back. It rises and falls, rises and falls, like the tides lapping the seashore. Soft, at ease.

But not a response.

One, two, three.

Three seconds. Three seconds is all it takes for Leona Kingscholar to knock out--and he is out like a light.

The party and its twisted beat carry on, the bass blasting in your bloodstream, uncaring. And you remain, cradling a snoozing cat in your arms.

... Ah, seriously. How did it turn out like this?

Upset, annoyance--you think that these are, perhaps, what you're meant to be feeling in the moment. They are missing, not so much as a phantom present. Instead, there's an excitable fluttering that doesn't have a name to it yet.

You swallow, still slightly shaken. The confession, raw and revealing, stirring emotions you didn't think possible before. Emotions that burned red hot, with serrated teeth and talons.

A hand goes to the back of his head, stroking his mane and smoothing it out. It's comforting to him, you imagine, but it's comforting to you as well. Grounding.

You're here. He's here. The both of you are here, together.

There is it again, that unnamed, excitable fluttering kicking up back up. It fans out from your core, from your head to the tips of your toes. You feel like you're lighter than air, flying to the moon and playing among the stars.

He loves you.

Leona Kingscholar loves you.

The fingers trapped in his hair stiffen.

You draw out a sigh. It mingles with the music and stretches thin, a string of fabric pulled from a spool.

Until the clock strikes midnight… Let’s just stay like this for a little longer. That much would be okay, wouldn’t it? We can figure out the rest of the story once the sleepy prince wakes from his slumber.