#and each element flows into the next

[digitaldiseas3]

laying in bed with a headache but closing my eyes just makes me focus on the pain more so i’m staring at this piece of artwork that i made in high school that i’ve got hanging on my wall now and. god man i’ve always loved this piece but looking at it harder rn its composition is just so perfectly done i couldn’t recreate it better if i tried

[deception-united]

Let's talk about character voices.

Giving a character a unique voice in your writing involves several elements, such as word choice, sentence structure, dialogue quirks, and mannerisms. Incorporating these elements into your writing can really help create characters with distinct voices that resonate with readers and bring your narrative to life, as well as avoiding making all your characters sound the same, which is important especially when switching POVs.

Here are some tips you may find helpful:

Distinct vocabulary: Choose words that reflect the character's background, personality, profession, interests, experiences, and education level. For example, a well-educated professor would probably use more sophisticated language.

Dialogue quirks: Give each character specific speech patterns or quirks that set them apart, like repeated phrases, stuttering, using or avoiding contractions, or speaking in a particular dialect or accent, but don't overdo it to the point where it's distracting or it's hard to decipher what's being said.

Sentence structure: Pay attention to the rhythm and structure of their sentences. Some characters might speak in short, abrupt sentences, while others might use long, flowing ones. This can convey their confidence, hesitation, or urgency in the particular scenario, but also their general demeanor or manner.

Internal monologue: Show the character's unique thought process through their internal monologue. This can help readers understand their motivations, fears, and desires, further distinguishing them from other characters. (This may not necessarily apply to your story if you're writing in a third person omniscient perspective, or if you intend to exclusively follow the internal monologue of the main character.)

Physical gestures/actions: State what the the character's physical gestures and actions are while speaking. A nervous character might fidget, slouch, or avoid eye contact, while a confident character would stand tall and make direct eye contact.

Background & history: The character's upbringing, cultural influences, and past experiences can all shape the way they speak and interact with others.

Consistency: It's important to maintain consistency in the character's voice throughout the story and make sure their speech patterns, vocabulary, and mannerisms remain true to their established personality and don't contradict with anything.

Real conversations: Pay attention to how people speak in real life, and the tone, vocabulary, and speech patterns of different people, to help create more authentic and believable dialogue.

Read aloud: Reading your dialogue aloud can help you identify areas where the character's voice may not sound authentic. If it doesn't sound like something they would say, revise.

Hope this helps!

Previous | Next

[fishnapple]

You in their eyes, how do they see you?

(Future spouse/partner/lover)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

MAELSTROM

• Spirit animal: Turtle

You're a balanced combination of both soft, mysterious energy and firm, assertive energy. They can definitely see that you have mental compatibility with each other. Words flow between you effortlessly, conversations would take hours without anyone noticing time was flying by. They can talk about anything with you without fear of judgement and misunderstanding. You stimulate their mind, and when conflicts arise, you can discuss them logically with clarity without letting emotions take over you. This make problems solving between you and them easier, leaving less space for resentment and unresolved feelings.

You seem reserved and quiet in their eyes. Your display of emotions and affection is subtle and intuitive, a quiet devotion that embraces them every day without suffocating them. Though, sometimes, they would have difficulties in trying to decipher your deeper feelings, to understand you at your core, the part that you conceal from them.

But they admire your ability to embrace your inner child fully. They know that this didn't come naturally for you, there's a journey behind it, lessons and hardship you had to go through in order to protect and bring your inner child to the world, no matter how you're perceived. They love this courage, this fearless attitude when you have to face people's opinions, you don't let yourself be swayed by them. Sometimes, you can even be rebellious. But the funny thing is, the more you fight, the more rebellious you're, the more attractive you're in their eyes. And it's not like you go about it in an aggressive and confrontional method. You do you, unapologetically, like a child unaware of how seemingly "odd" their behaviour is in other's eyes. But they know you're not childish. Behind that oblivious attitude is a strong sense of self, a wise person, ruling their own inner kingdom with iron fists. Like a ballerina, their movements can be so graceful only because they've spent endless hours discipline themselves and practised.

Sometimes, they can think that you're being too engrossed in the pursuit of material achievements, like you're always in preparation mode for some disasters looming in the distant future. Greedy might be too strong of a word, but they can view you as materialistic or have a mindset of lack. They understand that material security is very important to you. You need to feel a strong foundation under your feet to feel safe. That can make you overwork yourself to the point of exhaustion, always looking for the next thing to do. But they can see you putting that same effort in making the relationship work, you care about them and are willing to take care of things to make their life easier. They will feel that you're always there when they need you, your presence is a constant that is very much needed in their life. They would feel empty, a part of them is missing when you're away.

SEA FOAM

• Spirit animal: Fish

They think you're their good karma (if you believe in the concept of karma) or a reward, a surprise given to them by some higher powers. I see the image of someone being ushered into someone's life. Both parties can be quite reluctant at first, but as fate has it, you and them need to be together. There's a heavy element of fatefulness in this connection, or so that's how they see it. You are destined to love each other, no matter how much both of you try to deny or run away from it.

I think you will be the one who does the running away in the beginning. You seem "hard to catch", like trying to catch a fish with their bare hands. You would fleet in and out of their life at first, they can't seem to figure you out. But your presence will be a pushing force in their life, pushing them into a different direction, to where they are afraid to tread but secretly wish to.

In their eyes, you can be a little immature or temperamental, acting on whims of the moment. This makes you exciting and unique but sometimes, also agitating and hard to pin down. It's like they're torn between the feeling of love and frustration for you. Their personality probably is more serious and intense than yours. They want to be in the deep water with their lover, but you seem to refuse to swim there with them. But they will always want to care for you, to protect you from the harsh world outside.

The way you talk and act just exudes a young and pure energy, as of someone who, just for the first time, allowed to go outside to explore. You might talk a lot (compare to them), you ask questions, sometimes funny one, sometimes philosophical one, sometimes silly one. They will like to indulge you, patiently answer each one of your questions, then sometimes they can get irritated and start to lecture you, to that, you will just ask more questions. You want to learn, to understand this world. Behind that seemingly busy bee mind is a yearning to explore, to be free and soaring. And even if they can't fly with you, they sure will gather all the winds to lift your wings, instead of trying to pull you down into their water (who's the fish here?).

Your habits might be a little more messy or undisciplined compared to this person. You seem confused lots of times and don't have a good grasp of how to navigate your daily life efficiently, yet miraculously, you still swim through life effortlessly, much to their amazement. You don't fret too much about the future, somehow always arrive at the desired destination on time, things just work out for you, as if you just need to focus on taking good care of yourself and be contented, the rest will be taken care of for you by some mysterious force. This contrasts sharply with their approach to life, always planning ahead, always wanting to control the outcome. This creates a complementary dynamic between you two. Where you need structure, they provide, where they need spontaneity, you provide. In the end, no matter how different you guys are, you just fit each other neatly, like puzzle pieces.

SANDSTORM

• Spirit animal: Swan

They just know that you're the perfect partner for them, the one they need to get married to or at least make a serious, long-term commitment. You just possess all the qualities they seek in a spouse, the thought of committing probably will appear in their mind early on. You have a natural ability to understand them, nurture and protect them, at the same time, be a reliable pillar of strength for them. You are serious in your commitment, never take feelings for granted, you date with marriage as end goal in mind. They also think you would make a good parent, someone with enough tenderness and discipline to raise children with good balance.

Your work might involve lots of travelling and communicating. They can see that these are prominent parts of your life, demanding a large chunk of your time. They think that you tend to overwork yourself, being too engrossed in working, you're always busy, I wonder if this also means that you don't spend enough time with them, they feel like they have to demand for your time, to take you away from whatever is bothering your mind. Security is very important to you, you need to feel abundant to feel safe, yet they think you hardly ever feel that way, hence the constant working. They will want to help you in this area, just like how you help them. You mirror each other, in energy, in intentions, both of you want to care for each other in the same way as the other person does.

They probably like to hear your voice, be it talking, singing, or making other sounds. It feels soothing and calming for them. What you say also brings a new perspective, widening their view about the world. They sometimes see you as a teacher, whom they should listen to and want to be guided by. You just move through life gracefully, always open to new adventure, but still leave space for contemplating deeper meanings about everything. Like a philosopher wandering through life, observing the world, and sharing wisdom with the people. You need to be constantly in motion, travelling, or just moving around, and they're happy to be your companion, though they might sometimes want to slow down and rest a little.

They think you have a lot to uncover. You hide a huge treasure of deep love inside, something too intense for you to confidently show to the world. They would be sad to see you lock your dreams away, and they are willing to help make your dreams come true, if you would just ask them to. Your inner child is also someone they want to get close to. You seem to be disconnected from your inner child. They can feel that you want to connect, but something in your psyche is scaring your inner child away, making them reluctant to join the "family". From the outside, this makes you look a little cold or unaffectionate, you're discreet with your love, only ever bring it out when you completely trust someone.  They would want to reach out their hands and pull your inner child closer, to give your inner child a hug.

DUSK

• Spirit animal: Phoenix

They think that you being in a relationship with them is be a big step away from your past wounds. Not that they want the credit for themselves, but as an admiration for you, for your strength. They can see that you had a great fear concerning relationship and commitment in general. Maybe you have been burnt in the past, childhood baggage, and the bad examples you saw around you made you wary of love. So choosing to be in a relationship with someone, being committed to that person, trusting that person enough to share yourself with them, all of these are really brave actions in their eyes. It shows that you don't let your past hold you back and define you, you rise above it and are willing to change, to choose happiness for yourself.  Sometimes, they would reminisce about the initial getting-to-know-each-other phase, how many obstacles they saw in your connection, and how hard it was for them to gain your trust and affection. They would even tease you for it.

Your life seems to be ridden with changes of direction. You're not meant to stay still in one place, both mentally and physically. Life will always present you some events to push you to move. You can't stay stagnant, if you think you're contented with the current situation, then sure enough, there would be an event, an opportunity appearing in front of you, making you reevaluate your current direction in life. So life with you definitely won't lack movements and changes. Another thing is, you also actively seek to restructure your life. From small hobbies to big life decisions, you can be pretty random and go with the flow. You would change the plan at the last minute, planning to turn left, then suddenly turn right because something caught your attention that made you change your mind. Or some mornings, you would suddenly announce that you will take up a new hobby, register for a dance class, learning new language etc. without prior warning.

Life with you would be busy, you always have something to do, a task to complete, a news to watch, a track to run, a book to read. It's like they can't never see you being still. Maybe that also made them feel like you were afraid of commitment when they first got to know you. They could feel that you're too busy for love. But of course, that's not true, being a busy bee is just who you are, and over time, they've gotten used to it and adapted to it well. That busy energy also shows itself in the way you talk. Maybe you talk a lot, very fast, always have something witty to say. They love your humour, your ability to look at yourself, and joke without being defensive. The way you express your ideas and emotions is clear and rational but not cold. You know when to offer the softest words of encouragement and when to debate with the sharpest points.

They think you like to beautify yourself, you like beautiful things but at the same time you seem to be reluctant to spend on yourself, almost like you're stingy with yourself. Even if you like something, you might rationalise and deny yourself that thing. You want to earn lots of money yet don't feel comfortable spending it, especially for yourself. They know this trait of yours, so they will try to guess your desire and get it for you. You're not stingy with them or everyone, though, you're likely to pour your resources into the people you love and the house you share with them. You might like to beautify the house instead. Which is where you would like to stay a lot. You can seem like a homebody to them (with all the busy work) but you will have to go out and make an appearance in the world and they know the world loves you.

SIERRA

• Spirit animal: Phoenix

If they were the wind, they would lift your wings up as much as they could. Your person sees so much potential in you, so many talents, yet you're limiting yourself with your fears. You have an enormous desire to learn and expand your mind. But you also fear going deeper. You might be the kind of person who learns various subjects simultaneously, has a good grasp of everything, but doesn't dig too deep into any particular subjects. Not because you're shallow or impatient, it's the opposite, you know that once you've engrossed yourself in something, you go all in, it would get to the core really fast, and this drains your time and energy so much, you're reluctant to dive in. You also know that there will be hidden things inside you that need to be uncovered if you were to go any deeper. But they think you have the strength to do this because they understand, deep down, you're much happier when you devote yourself to something.

And they know you devote yourself to them and the relationship. Once you're in a commitment, you take it seriously, you see your life as an entanglement with each other, not just one's own anymore. In a way, you're a team person, someone who has a talent for working with people. This makes being in a relationship with you so much easier. Because you're willing to cooperate and want to make a team effort to build the relationship strong, instead of demanding from a selfish stance.

But you're not a pushover or a people pleaser in their eyes. Your individuality shines intensely. You have no trouble being yourself, you can't help being yourself. Even if you wear normal clothing like everyone else, blending in quietly, you still somehow stand out to them. Like a visible halo around you is beckoning them. They admire your creative energy so much, if they're ever short of ideas, they can always turn to you to get some. If you want to pursue some creative endeavours, they would probably encourage and support you wholeheartedly. Because they believe in you.

They also love your playful side, which you only show to a few close ones, and only in a comfortable space. You appear much more serious in public than when you're with them in private. When you're home with them, you can be tender, childish but also very seductive, you show yourself fully to them. You can act silly, making jokes all the time with them, being competitive in games, or playing pranks on them. But all of those are saved for alone time together. Outside, to the world, you're more uptight, serious. People also respect you a lot, looking up to you like a teacher. What you say probably are well listened to by people. You appear as a wise, mature friend, whom people can come to for sound advice. Your person would sometimes chuckle quietly to themselves whenever they see you out in public or with acquaintances. Those people wouldn't imagine how you would act in private, imagine their reaction when they found out some of your silly jokes. They definitely think you have the world fooled.

RIVER

• Spirit animal: Lamb

You're a quiet presence that haunts their psyche in an inexplicable way. They sometimes can't understand why they're so drawn to you, they have that feeling in their heart, but they can't put it into word. If someone asks your person how they feel about you, they would stumble a bit and would take a long time to come up with a coherent answer. Don't mistake this for their lack of affection or commitment, they just haven't fully comprehended your effect on them. When they hear the question, in their mind, the image of you would be conjured up in so many different ways and different areas, it's like you're everywhere.

They admire your grace under pressure. Your quietness doesn't mean you're meek or naive. Your energy is pure and wise. The hardship you encountered in the past didn't turn you into a bitter and cold person. On the contrary, you developed compassion for other's suffering. Everyone has their own story and they deserve to tell them without shame. Each pain is traded with wisdom. They probably wish to learn a thing or two from your stoicism. You're here, in the present, you don't put your mind to needless worrying nor do you cling to the past.

You're the person they would always turn to when they need an advice, your words have a stabilising effect on them, you make them believe that everything will be okay in the end, that they're safe and sound. You might not talk a lot, superfluous information doesn't interest you, but each word holds values. You can talk about deep and taboo topics without judgement, fear or prejudice. Your person will also love your voice, it sounds tender and calming, though they may wish that you would talk more so that they can hear your voice more.

They do notice, when they've gotten closer to you, that you tend to hold in your anger, you don't want it to affect other people, but your person will worry that this can affect you negatively. You also hold your drive and ambitions close to your chest, refusing to disclose them to others. You work silently, diligently towards your goals. It's like you don't want to show anything too overt, your emotions, your struggle, your passion, they are kept simmering inside, while outwardly, you show a serene and placid disposition.

In love, you show a more relaxed energy to them, like a child finally out of the house after a heavy rain, enjoying the freshness and the earthy scent of everything. You can act a little more erratic with them than when you're with other people. Maybe they adore that side of you or more tolerate towards it. You can be unpredictable, not showing your cards fully. They sometimes have to guess how much you love them, how you feel about them. They can ask you for your opinion about other matters and receive practical and solid answers from you, but when the questions change to the topic of personal feelings and love, you can be elusive. This frustrates them greatly but also pull them to you greatly. You're like the muse and the poet at the same time. And they're your avid reader.

[blacktabbygames]

Scarlet Hollow UI Redesign Work In Progress

HELLO! As some of you may know we've been hard at work on a large overhaul patch for the first four episodes of Scarlet Hollow to bring the game closer to our ever-higher standards. While there are a lot of content changes and additions coming with the update, here's spoiler-free look at how the UI side of it is coming along. New UI on top, old UI on bottom. First, and most importantly is the updated textbox. We've been adding a lot of detail to small UI elements, and this is no exception — there are more leaves, and those leaves have some color in them now, which we feel makes the in-game art feel a lot richer. On the usability side, you'll notice that this new box is both taller, meaning that we can fit more options before you need to scroll, and that the scrollbar is located further to the right, meaning options can be longer before flowing onto the next line. (Again, meaning there will be less scrolling.) We've also moved the quick menu into the textbox so it no longer overlaps with any background art.

Next up, we've got the main menu. Not a ton to say here. Logo is smaller and has some color so it feels less stark. The font choice is tighter, and we added a border where the text options start to improve the feel of things. In general we're trying to make options that make the interface feel warmer, more organic, and less sterile.

Next we've got the in-game menu. Again, framing things with organic shapes to provide better flow and separation. We've also added a wooden "frame" around each save game thumbnail give them a more natural feeling.

Similar notes for the new confirmation screen. We're probably going to increase the opacity a little bit. At the moment is a little too transparent.

The journal has new assets, and instead of a generic cross-hatched background, we add a semi-transparent black layer so you can still see the game world behind it.

And speaking of generic cross-hatching, we've also removed it from character creation, instead replacing it with backgrounds from inside the game. Overall this should feel a lot more welcoming.

These backgrounds change with each new slide, too. Here's how trait selection works.

Anyways that's it for now! Happy new year :)

[light-me-on-pyre]

https://www.fimfiction.net/story/352115/the-friendship-test

Link to the story I mentioned in the tags (there's also a reading linked in the story description)

trial 1 was brand yourself or brand the next pony person in line. Nonlethal (unless you lunge for whumper and get your friend zapped to death)

trial 2 was beat rainbow dash or stab the next person in line to the hilt with the dagger. (same person could get beaten repeatedly over multiple turns or you could stab someone once)

trial 3 was toxic laughing gas. Hold your breath!

trial 4 was choose one of your friends to drown.

trial 5 was choice or chance poison. (in the cider one of the whumpees sold for extra flavor)

We don't get to see trial 6 because trial 1 was supposed to be nonlethal (so she says) but damn does the winner get survivor's guilt :)

(I didn't know what whump was when I was in the brony fandom but I think I still figured out what whump was even if not by name lmao)

Hey, I know I've been MIA for SEVERAL YEARS now, but I am writing a fic and I CANNOT get through my next chapter so I'm caving and asking for help.

In this fic, I have a whumper who is into games. They're making the whumpee go through trials. The whumpee nailed the fist trial and they're not happy. The whumper is also in posession of whumpee's family (of which I want two to perish in this chapter and three to survive). I'm having trouble thinking about the second trial.

I would like something intellectual: that is, the whumpee would choose to control the outcome, but it would always be terrible (Sophie's choice sort of deal). At first I thought something akin to the chess in Harry Potter in which each of the charaters represents a piece and if the piece gets captured they die. But I feel like that would be 1) hard to narrate 2) hard for readers to follow and 3) it's literally a rip off.

But I'm having trouble thinking of other ways that might happen. Does anyone have any suggestions on where I can look for inspiration?

[novlr]

Any tips on how to describe indoor spaces so they feel real and match the vibe of the story without throwing in too much detail?

Getting interior scenes just right is all about finding the balance between setting the mood, showing the unique personality of your story world, and keeping the plot moving. There are lots of ways you can use senses, action, and background to set a scene, all of which can work seamlessly with the type of story you want to tell. Here are some tips on how you can achieve that:

How does it look?

Lighting: does your space contain the soft glow of lamps, harsh fluorescent lights, or natural light?

Use colour and textures like peeling paint, plush velvet, or sleek marble.

Size and scale: is it claustrophobically small or impressively grand?

Architectural features: does the space have high ceilings, crown mouldings, or exposed beams?

Furnishings: are they modern, sparse, antique, or cluttered?

Style and decor: what style is represented, and how does it affect the atmosphere?

State of repair: is the space well-kept, neglected, or under renovation?

Perspective and layout: how do spaces flow into each other?

Unique design features: describe sculptural elements, or things that stand out.

Spatial relationships: describe how objects are arranged—what’s next to, across from, or underneath something else?

How does it sound?

Describe echoes in large spaces or the muffled quality of sound in carpeted or furnished rooms.

Note background noises; is there a persistent hum of an air conditioner, or the tick of a clock?

Describe the sound of footsteps; do they click, scuff, or are they inaudible?

Include voices; are they loud and echoing or soft and absorbed?

Is there music? Is it piped in, coming from a live source, or perhaps drifting in from outside?

Capture the sounds of activity; typing, machinery, kitchen noises, etc.

Describe natural sounds; birds outside the window, or the rustle of trees.

Consider sound dynamics; is the space acoustically lively or deadened?

Include unexpected noises that might be unique to the building.

Consider silence as a sound quality. What does the absence of noise convey?

How does it smell?

Identify cleaning products or air fresheners. Do they create a sterile or inviting smell?

Describe cooking smells if near a kitchen; can you identify specific foods?

Mention natural scents; does the room smell of wood, plants, or stone?

Are there musty or stale smells in less ventilated spaces?

Note the smell of new materials; fresh paint, new carpet, or upholstery.

Point out if there’s an absence of smell, which can be as notable as a powerful scent.

Consider personal scents; perfume, sweat, or the hint of someone’s presence.

Include scents from outside that find their way in; ocean air, city smells, etc.

Use metaphors and similes to relate unfamiliar smells to common experiences.

Describe intensity and layering of scents; is there a primary scent supported by subtler ones?

What can you do there?

Describe people’s actions; are they relaxing, working, hurried, or leisurely?

Does the space have a traditional use? What do people come there to do?

Note mechanical activity; elevators moving, printers printing, etc.

Include interactions; are people talking, arguing, or collaborating?

Mention solitary activities; someone reading, writing, or involved in a hobby.

Capture movements; are there servers bustling about, or a janitor sweeping?

Observe routines and rituals; opening blinds in the morning, locking doors at night.

Include energetic activities; perhaps children playing or a bustling trade floor.

Note restful moments; spaces where people come to unwind or reflect.

Describe cultural or community activities that might be unique to the space.

How is it decorated?

Describe the overall style; is it minimalist, baroque, industrial, or something else?

Note period influences; does the decor reflect a specific era or design movement?

Include colour schemes and how they play with or against each other.

Mention patterns; on wallpaper, upholstery, or tiles.

Describe textural contrasts; rough against smooth, shiny against matte.

Observe symmetry or asymmetry in design.

Note the presence of signature pieces; a chandelier, an antique desk, or a modern art installation.

Mention thematic elements; nautical, floral, astronomical, etc.

Describe homemade or bespoke items that add character.

Include repetitive elements; motifs that appear throughout the space.

What is its history?

Mention historical usage; was the building repurposed, and does it keep its original function?

Describe architectural time periods; identify features that pinpoint the era of construction.

Note changes over time; upgrades, downgrades, or restorations.

Include historical events that took place within or affected the building.

Mention local or regional history that influenced the building’s design or function.

Describe preservation efforts; are there plaques, restored areas, or visible signs of aging?

Describing indoor spaces doesn’t have to feel like a chore. Focus on the details that matter most, tie them to the mood or characters, and let your readers fill in the blanks. A well-crafted space not only sets the scene but builds your character's relationship to it. Use sensory language, background, and action beats to tie it into your narrative, and don’t be afraid to play around with motifs and contradictions, depending on who is experiencing it!

[tahbhie]

How Plot Progression Works—Myths and Facts.

Let me start with a myth.

Last week, a writer approached me with their half-finished draft, unsure how to continue. Apparently, they got writer's block in the middle of the work. For about thirty minutes, we discussed the book freely as if it were a finished and published work.

Then I realized the issue.

☞ The problem?

From the conversation, I noticed that the writer's thoughts and ideas, which they voiced for the book, totally contradicted what they had written.

Their book followed a sequence of events. It was well-calculated, and the plot progression was on point but only to a certain level. I noticed robotic recurrences.

Something like this:

Scene 1— a sudden revelation

Scene 2— an unexpected fight

Scene 3— introduction of a new character

Scene 4— a conflict

Scene 5— another sudden revelation

Scene 6— an unexpected fight

Scene 7— introduction of a new character

Scene 8— a conflict

Meanwhile, all these elements didn't tie to each other in the story. They just performed different roles in each scene and were rendered useless in the next and every other scene that followed.

☞ Why did this happen?

Among other reasons, being extremely rigid with writing advice is a main factor.

Writing advice is great, but don't bend your style to suit the rules; bend the rules to suit your style.

Here's a clearer example of what I'm talking about.

Writing advice often says to keep readers on the edge of their seats within the first five pages, but this doesn't mean introducing unrealistic problems that don't fit your story. For example, introducing a sudden and improbable conflict just to add excitement can disrupt the flow and believability of your plot

During our session, I already understood how to assist, and we were setting our comfortable hours when the writer suddenly said, "I was told to include conflict in the middle of the book, then I ran out of ideas when I got there. I could have added one just a few pages in because I believe it would do well there, but again, I was unsure if that would make sense."

Now, who said conflict can't start a book? When you start your book with a conflict, you just have to ensure that you build towards 'the reason' behind the conflict so your readers can understand.

☞ Should I follow every writing advice with a closed mind?

No, you shouldn't. Remember that you are writing that book because you want to, and your idea was great enough to convince you to actually write. You need to enjoy the process and create what you truly want to create. Follow instructions flexibly.

Now that the myth is out of the way, let's talk about things that make a plot.

➜ Basic plot elements.

Initially, your plot should have the following:

✧ Protagonist ✧

Who are readers following in the story? Make that clear in the first few chapters. If you're writing from a first-person point of view and plan on switching between characters, aim for a maximum of two characters. It becomes clear that those two characters are an important part of the story; hence, they get the privilege to narrate the story from their respective views.

✧ Goals and objectives ✧

What is your protagonist after? Here's one thing you should know: your character doesn't have to know what they want at the beginning of the story. They may be as confused about their life as anyone reading, but as the story unfolds, they find a goal worth reaching and discover the needed strength to reach the goal.

✧ Antagonist ✧

What/Who is standing as a threat? A threat is hell-bent on ruining your protagonist and stopping them from achieving their goals. An antagonist could be an object or a human. It all depends on the concept you aim for. Funny enough, the antagonist could be a lie that starts out seemingly small but ends up being harmful. The rom-com movie "Upgraded" is an example of this concept. The lie the art enthusiast told was the greatest trouble she faced.

✧ Conflict ✧

What are the problems the protagonist faces? Problems can start from anywhere over anything, and you can choose to make them mild and solvable at first while building up to something larger.

✧ Resulting consequences ✧

What happens after the protagonist faces the trouble and tries to solve it? Did they lose anything? Hurt someone? Earn support from people they least expect?

✧ Character arc ✧

How has the journey shaped your protagonist? After going through something they probably never saw coming, how has it changed them? For a timid main character at the beginning of the story, do they finally become brave and display a different side of themselves?

All these are important for a well-rounded story as a whole.

Join the Writers' Universe and connect with like-minded writers.

➜ Secondary plot elements

These elements help you shape the above category.

● Setbacks

Let's use movies to illustrate this. There are certain points where we lose hope for the main character, almost convinced they've lost. We see them at their weakest points, hurt that the antagonist got them good. These moments are the setbacks. The protagonist is made vulnerable.

● Loss

What did the setback cost them? The reason I intentionally labeled this as loss is because to move a plot forward, some things need repairing. Since most loose ends were already from the beginning of the story, adding a fresh loss piques the reader's interest. It doesn't have to be the death of someone. It could be the brutal end of an alliance formed on an emotional scale.

● Break of a new dawn

I just wanted to get creative with the title. This point marks the pivotal change of events, and once again, there's hope for the protagonist as they find solutions to their problems. In this stage, they discover hidden abilities within themselves (this isn't limited to fantasy).

And there you have the important sections of plot progression. But keep these few things in mind. To ensure you're not leaving a huge gap in your plot, try to:

┗→ Introduce elements that work for your story:

It's common to believe something works well simply because it did in your favorite book. You might want to reconsider that with a different mindset.

┗→ Tie elements together:

Of course, this doesn't apply to all, but try to create a link between events in your story. If a fight occurred in a scene, link it to a cause in a few scenes ahead. This can lead to another conflict, this time on a larger scale, without having to introduce something entirely different.

And back to the question that birthed this post:

ᴥ Should conflict come early or not?

It depends on your work, but it can come early. That's not taboo.

There was a movie I watched featuring a female lawyer as the protagonist. The movie started with the kidnap of her only child, and the rest of the scenes drove us to the 'cause,’ then more conflicts, setbacks, and finally resolution. We were also able to explore the character’s personality based on the decisions she took in different emotional scenes.

She tried to keep her calm in some scenes while she just flat-out threw a tantrum in others, but overall, she was a strong woman who was broken by the incidents occurring and then rebuilt. I read a book with the same premise: the main character was a tween who misplaced something precious and decided to go on an adventure to search for it, and that was what the story was built upon.

I always tell writers one thing—own your book. The first draft seems to be the toughest one of its pair, but if you don't allow yourself to freely express your thoughts, there will be no first draft or story at all.

✧✧✧✧

Struggling with any stages of writing? Send me a message, and let's sort it out for a suitable fee.

✧✧✧✧

Do you want to create characters readers are compelled to start a fandom for?

Check out "My Characters and I" extensive coaching session. Understand the secret behind every attractive character. The slots are limited, and this opportunity closes once capacity is reached. Don't miss it; you never know when you’ll stumble upon these golden gates again.

[lazyjellyfish300]

♡♡𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 ♡♡

🪻nanami kento x fem wife!reader

🪻words: 1.4k

🪻synopsis: kento reluctantly joins your nail routines by getting a little heart for you on his thumb, a tradition that only grows along with the family you create together. (based on the above pic from pinterest as the inspo for this idea)

🪻cw: x scarred post shibuya kento (always).💕 fluff, kento being such a loving father and husband, pregnancy.

🪻a/n: happy late father's day. i love kento eternally. 🌧️ 🌷sparkle dividers: @/anitalenia. swan pearl dividers by @/fairytopea. pics from pinterest.

Rainy Sunday afternoons call for self care.

While the raindrops rambled their cacophonic percussion on the windows of the farmhouse, your living room slowly transformed into a nail salon.

Bottles of nail polish surrounded you in a chaotic half moon fashion since you couldn't be bothered to organize by color in light of your last minute decision to paint your nails, just like the rain that loved to drizzle out of nowhere.

A double protective layer of paper towels laid over the old oak of your coffee table with the remaining roll half unraveled on the other side, the grocery store bag with the receipt at your feet, and low sound of your favorite tunes playing on your phone next to you as you painted the first stroke of lavender, the chemical fruity smell of acetone quite fragrant but you ignore it as you dilligently work.

It is a curious thing, watching you in your element like this, Kento thinks with his novel slightly strategically lowered to peer at you from over the top. The polish odor would have normally put him off but his intrigue and love for you kept him where he was.

He watches you paint each one with precision, his crows feet crinkling as you became more shaky when you had to switch to your less dominant hand, silently marveling at your routine that recalls him back to watching his mother do similar things as a young boy.

"Want me to do yours?" You catch him watching and smile as you softly blow on the freshly coated paint, a mischievous look in your eyes.

Kento shakes his head with a hum. "No thank you, sweetheart. I don't think bright colors would look good on me."

"Sure they would! I have a whole selection you can choose from." You gesture to your mini library of colors. "How about a soft blue?"

"I couldn't ask you to waste your products on me, love, but that's very thoughtful of you."

"Please? I actually really want to now. I could give you a hand massage and do your cuticles."

Kento raises a brow as now it's apparent that it's less about what he wants and more about indulging you. "Do you really want to?"

"Yes I do! I want to practice and you can tell me if I'm any good at it."

"If you insist."

He's sitting across from you now, his good eye trained on you as you massage his hands with moisturizer.

"Good?"

"Mhm." He tries to hold back a smile as you knead his hands like dough.

"Ken, relax, you're so tense."

*He lets his hands flop in your grasp*

"Thank you."

You skim your thumbs over his palms spreading the product, smoothing it into his skin, taking care over the textured exterior of his left hand and paying special attention to the delicate map of scars, his wedding ring in a tulip dish next to your forearm for safe keeping.

"You're quite good at this." He murmurs, low over the tirade of trickling raindrops just outside and the cozy hush of the room.

"You think so, my love?"

"I do. You're very thorough. I might not be opposed to doing this again, as a matter of fact."

"Awh, wait, really?"

"Really."

"So...does that mean you'll let me paint them?"

He chuckles and sighs. If he gave you an inch, best believe you're taking a mile.

"You really want to, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Yes! Here, look. What if I put just a little heart on your thumb, right here?" You gently wiggle his left thumb in between your fingers. "And if you don't like it, I swear I'll take it off."

He smiles, a gentle exhale flowing through his chest. "I suppose I can live with that."

He watches as your tongue barely pokes out of the corner of your mouth as you dip the end of a bobby pin into a bit of the lavender, carefully dotting a heart right into the bottom corner of his thumb.

"So innovative." He murmurs.

"All done." You take your hand in his like puzzle pieces, a white heart painted on your thumb whose matching lavender counterpart found its way onto his.

"Now we match." You grin as though you've trapped him, which he all but confirms as he slides his wedding ring back on his finger.

"Yes we do, love."

"Lunch?"

"You read my mind."

----

One of your neighbors at the seaside farmer's market can't help but notice the lavender heart on Kento's thumb as he counts up the freshly grown potatoes and stows them in a bag.

"Looks like you got a little something." The older man points.

Kento pauses in curiosity, following the man's gaze to the heart on his thumb.

"For my wife." He states simply, with a shrug.

The old man thinks it's odd, but he's been married for 30 years. He gets it.

"Take care of her, now."

"I will, sir, thank you."

-----

Painting your nails is more of a chore now but it's one you don't have to worry about for just one more month, even longer if you simply asked of him.

Kento catches a stripe of paint near your toe that ran outside the corner, as your swollen feet laid in his lap while you sipped your homemade lemonade in a glass, making sure they all look perfect before he secures the lid.

"Thanks, sweetheart." You reach for him and he helps you sit up a little, adjusting the pillows underneath your hips, compression socks laid out on the floor for you once your toes completely dry.

"You're very welcome." He hums, taking his freshly done hand in yours, a pink heart in the corner of his thumb this time.

"You think she'll like them?"

"She'll adore them, darling." Kento answers, giving your calves a squeeze as his attention momentarily flickers to the SpongeBob reruns on the TV.

"Should we ask?"

A flicker of a smile stains his lips as he brings a hand to your belly, waiting patiently until you feel a faint kick, "Yes."

"I love her so much already."

"She loves you too, sweetheart."

----

A pair of small chubby hands waits patiently for her turn on a rainy afternoon similar to the ones you shared before when it was just you and Kento under this old roof.

"'Kay, Noodle, what color are we thinkin?" You ask your baby girl as she sits in your lap. "Oh no, those ones are for mommy. This kind is safe for you." You wiggle the tiny bottles of gentle colors in front of her face, until she reaches for a pretty deep blue.

"This one?" You ask. "You know, that's daddy's favorite, too."

You shake the bottle and put the squishy foamy separators between her little toes and fingers. "Should we ask for some help from our assistant?"

You daughter gives you a cheeky grin and happily allows Kento to scoop her into his lap as she grabs at his chin. "Hold, still, angel."

When her manicure and pedicure is finally complete, just slightly smudged from all the wiggles, you wonder if you're missing just one more thing.

"I think Noodle wants a heart on your thumb too, Ken."

He smiles, "Then who am I to say no?"

----

The old man at the farmer's market notices two blue hearts, one on each of Kento's thumbs now, and he smiles as he recognizes the woman and the new little princess who must be responsible playing patty cake while Kento bags up his potatoes.

"Much obliged, Kento. Bless you three."

"Thank you, sir. We'll see you next time."

----

As time grows, the nail salon does too.

Now, Kento wears four little hearts in total on his hands for each blessing he created with you, and the one on his left thumb is eternally reserved for you.

You smile bittersweetly as your belly swelled for the final time in the summer as you watch all three of your little girls and Kento run around the yard, the butterfly pavers in the garden coated in freshly showered rain, popsicles in the freezer, and chalk on the pavement, savoring these moments the thief of time allows you while your babies are still young and Kento would still wear hearts on his thumbs.

Kento loves you from where he stands as he catches his breath while you watch from the porch, in the absence of words, the look he's preserved for you carries all the tenderness without ever saying: you're the rain to his sun, before he joins the girls for another round of kick the can.

A little thump reminds you that four hearts will turn into five on Kento's fingers as the budding garden of your home blooms by one more. The final constellation of the stars that line your soul.

And the love does, too.

[taegularities]

we can't be friends | jjk (m) | teaser

Summary: Jungkook once planted a garden in your chest that he watered when he smiled and you killed when he left. But flowers withering isn't enough; that doesn't mend the ache. No – you want this entire story to die.

➵ pairing: Jungkook x female reader ➵ rating: 18+ ➵ genre: exes to ?, college!au; angst, fluff, smut; oneshot ➵ warnings: heartache, past breakup, flashbacks, memories, memory erasure (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind vibe), tears, anxiety, angst angst angstttt, fighting but also such tender moments, college sweethearts 🥺, smut (details to be added when the fic drops)… the ending 👁 ➵ est. word count: around 25k; 796 for the teaser ➵ drop date: mid-july! will do my best and announce the specific date asap! ➵ a/n: another angsty taegularities special :D coming next, so stay tuned!! and come talk to me about it if you'd like 👁

The feeling of standing between two realities is odd.

Like a foot planted in life and another in death. You aren’t dead, of course — you’re so painfully conscious of your surroundings and so clearly alive, but if it was your heart detailing its state, it might as well declare itself fallen. 

There is no other way to really perceive this, you think, and as long as you relive the moments leading to what you fear, you will probably not quite feel at ease. It must be the spring sun above. Or the leaves finding their bright colours, the flowers spreading their scent.

Back then, you thought of all this as a new beginning, just what this season is known for — new sensations, a new heartbeat, brand new warmth to your cheeks.

When Jungkook rushed to meet you at the park eventually that you sent him the location of, he looked brighter than he’d ever been before and lovelier than he’d ever be again. Not that he wasn’t happy during the time you blessed him with worldly joys, but…

When you fall in love… the seconds just before you admit it, to yourself and to the other… when the heart, violently pumping, almost cracks your ribcage and threatens to burst…

Then, each of these elements makes the sentiments truly significant and unique. Love gets the blood flowing through the veins, but it’s the falling that truly births exhilaration. There is no memory like the growing adoration before anything even starts.

“And you were worried you were going to be late,” you told him as he came to a halt in front of you, bending down, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Take it easy, though—”

“No,” he panted, “I was imagining it like this.”

“Imagining what? Like what?”

“Just… you. What I want to say.”

“What–”

You paused when he licked his lips, squinting when his gaze moved up to yours. You were standing right under the sun, you reckon, blinding him in more ways than you usually did. But you weren’t so immune either.

Not to the rosy cheeks. To the messy, dark hair. To the college jacket wrapped around his hips, or to how he uprighted himself, brushing back the bangs that fell back anyway. To his words.

And certainly not to how close he came to you when he took a step further towards the sun, waking up all the butterflies, cocoons stirring in your stomach. You felt disgustingly giddy when he lifted his hand, putting it on your shoulder, acting as if he was still helping his lungs, calming down.

As if you weren’t aware that he just wanted to be nearer, to touch you, to look at you as he liked to.

It was weird for a moment; not because you found the proximity unwelcoming, but because you weren’t used to this. The two of you were chaotic, jokesters, not ones to indulge in cliché, corny scenes.

You were friends, after all. No matter how he looked at you, and no matter how many times you’d kiss his cheek to wordlessly utter the day’s goodbye.

He had been your friend long before he was anything else. And this might probably haunt you forever. The days you spent dawdling. And the weeks you cried over your laptops, cramming until sunset.

How he was still a little sweaty from running, exam forgotten, fingers leaving your shoulder and not pretending anymore when he moved them to your face. Stared at your lips for a second. Sighed as if he was yearning, dying, done with waiting.

You knew what was to come. You know it now, too, because you remember. You used to love that you did — and now you hate that you still do.

You think of Dr. Choi’s words. They are snatching your heart out of your chest as you stand there, in slow motion, probably cutting you up as you lay there in front of her. It feels like it, at least.

“Can you do it?”

Friends. Lovers. Nothing.

You can’t be any of it anymore. Or can you? Can’t you, can you? It’s as if ripping the petals of a flower, asking it to predict, only something you are barely able to deal with.

Fuck…

Will this ever stop playing in your head? But you don’t want to forget. You should. You don’t want to. Because—

You once decided there would be nobody else ever again. But you’re starting to think that if you don’t let go, there really won’t be.

But you don’t know how to do it. How to give into it.

You remember again. Words from above.

“Can you do it? Just that one moment?… It’s all that’s left.”

He’s all that was ever left.

this is just one of the harmless parts (and just the first draft of this scene), and the rest is just… :')) gosh, i am so excited to share this and all that i have in store for you! it'll be a journey. hope you will like it once it drops!! i have been very unsure about (my) writing lately, but i do feel motivated to write this and a few other stories, so fingers crossed it'll be a good read 🤞

which is also why it'd be absolutely amazing if you hyped this up a lil if you're just as excited :p your words mean a lot and make things happen even faster and give me a little boost to stick around hehehehe, so yeah… come and talk to me <3

also, here's the taglist!

[cece693]

I wanted to begin writing for twilight again, but didn't have any ideas for who. So this fic is mostly be just going with the flow.

Sparkling Awkwardness

pairing: jasper whitlock x male reader x edward cullen tags: you are a newborn, but even then you can't catch a break, tug of war between two vampires, comedic elements, pre-relationship, reader is not that old, newborn vampire

In Forks, Washington, the perpetual gray skies had always been your friend—before and after you became a vampire. But not even the cozy gloom of the Pacific Northwest could hide the shimmering tension stirring between Jasper and Edward over you, of all people.

You never asked to be so desirable; you certainly hadn’t been in your human life. But now, you were a shiny new vampire with a perfect complexion and a magnetic personality—at least, so you’d been told. You still felt like the same slightly clumsy, socially awkward guy, except you no longer tripped over your own feet unless you were actively trying to blend in. It was weird. Oh, and apparently, both Jasper and Edward thought you might be their “mate.” That word alone was enough to give you hives if your skin could still do that. It made everything feel predetermined—a cosmic real-estate deal on your afterlife.

No, thank you.

You plopped down on the gleaming white couch, adopting what you hoped was a casual position. Edward sat at the piano bench, absentmindedly letting his fingers hover over the keys, while Jasper paced near the staircase. They were doing that silent eye-contact thing—what you liked to call “vampire telepathy” (you knew it was actually Edward reading thoughts and Jasper sensing emotions, but still). Either way, you were definitely the topic, if the frequent side-eye glances were any indication.

You cleared your throat, forcing a grin. “So, are we going to continue the silent stare-off, or do I need to crack a few jokes to break this tension?”

Edward turned to you, lips curving into a tight, apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he murmured softly. “Old habits.”

“You guys have old habits? You’re basically the definition of ancient habits,” you teased. “I’m the new kid on the block. Cut me some slack. I’ve only been a vampire for—what—three months?”

Jasper stopped mid-pace, sending you a faint smirk. “If it helps, you’re doing a fine job adjusting. No unintentional biting incidents this week.”

“I appreciate the recognition. We can add it to my vampire résumé,” you said, only half-joking. “Next up: perfecting the sparkle. Do you think if I rub my cheek up against a disco ball, I’ll blind everyone within a two-mile radius?”

Edward’s eyes sparkled with suppressed amusement. “Might be a bit dramatic, even for us.”

Jasper shrugged. “No more dramatic than having two vampires fight over you, I reckon.”

You grimaced, nose scrunching. “Yeah, about that.” You cast them both a meaningful look. “Are you two really fighting over me? Because I’m not exactly used to…you know, this.”

“Yes,” Edward said at the exact same time Jasper said, “Of course.” Then they flicked irritated glances at each other, as if each wished the other had said anything else.

When Carlisle brought you home after that near-fatal accident, you had been delirious and bleeding out. Edward, in typical heroic fashion, had insisted on saving you. Next thing you knew, there you were: newly turned, hungry for blood, and fitted with a brand-new wardrobe courtesy of Alice.

You’d spent the early days stumbling through the house, flinching whenever someone shut a door too loudly. But from the get-go, you noticed two sets of molten gold eyes on you more than the others: Jasper’s and Edward’s.

You didn’t think much of it at first—maybe they were just protective. But it quickly escalated from polite overprotectiveness to…whatever this was. Tense stands in the living room. Soft arguments at midnight. That time Jasper accidentally crushed a chair arm because Edward “invaded your personal space.” Or the time Edward snarled under his breath for no apparent reason when you innocently asked Jasper for some sparring tips.

Needless to say, that’s when you began to suspect something was afoot. And apparently, that something was the so-called mate bond. You still didn’t buy it.

A creak on the polished floor made you realize you’d been tapping your foot anxiously—only to discover it was Jasper edging closer to you. He had that concerned older-brother-turned-smitten-face again. Meanwhile, Edward looked up from the piano, watching you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to (besides maybe the antique piano itself).

You sighed, addressing them both. “So, as fun as it is being the center of your undead soap opera, can we talk about the whole ‘mate’ thing? I still don’t buy into it.”

Edward studied you, a hint of a frown creasing his perfect forehead. “I’ve heard your thoughts,” he began, “and I understand why you’re—”

“You heard my thoughts?” you cut in, eyes narrowing. “Hey, man, that’s private property up there. At least charge admission.”

A sheepish smile briefly pulled at his lips. “I try to respect your privacy, but strong emotions tend to overflow.”

Your cheeks heated (which was impossible, physically, but you felt it). You cleared your throat. “Well, guess I should keep my strong emotions dialed down—like that’s even possible. I’m brand-new at this vamp thing. I can’t walk across the room without rearranging furniture accidentally.”

Jasper let out a low laugh. It instantly relaxed some of the tension in the room—he couldn’t help broadcasting some of that relaxation to you, as was his empathetic gift. “I’ve got no intention of forcing you into anything,” he said gently. “It’s just…I feel how your emotions waver between us. It’s intense.”

You threw up your hands. “I can’t help it! You two are like walking advertisement campaigns for impossibly cool vampires. I mean, Edward, you’ve got that brooding poet vibe, and sometimes your hair looks like you walked off a shampoo commercial—”

He seemed surprised. “I—thank you?”

You went on. “Jasper, you’re the calm center in a raging storm, and plus, that Southern drawl is kinda hot. Sorry, is that weird to say out loud?”

Jasper blinked. “It’s— it’s not unwelcome.”

Edward’s lips twitched in a smile. “So, you do admit you feel…something?”

“Well, yeah!” you exclaimed. “But does that mean I have to pick and stamp a romantic label on it right now? Because that’s a lot of pressure.” You flopped back against the couch dramatically. “Especially when I’m trying to figure out why my sparkles look more like glitter glue than fancy vampire confetti in the sunlight.”

You heard a snicker and glanced to the side. Emmett was leaning in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, thoroughly entertained. Alice stood behind him, grinning like this was the funniest show on earth.

“You’re both about one push away from a territorial meltdown,” Emmett teased his brothers. “And I, for one, can’t wait to see who’s gonna punch whom first.”

Jasper shot him a warning look. “Not helpful, Emmett.”

Edward winced. “I’d prefer if we avoided violence.”

You rubbed your temples. “Yes, please, let’s not have that. It’s already complicated enough without fistfights.”

“Aw, come on,” Emmett drawled, “vampire fights are the best. It’ll be over in about two seconds and destroy half the house. Great entertainment, if you ask me.”

Alice laughed behind her hand. “I saw a vision of that once. Rosalie was not happy about the furniture repairs.”

In an effort to shift the mood, you sat up straight, cleared your throat, and pointed at Edward and Jasper in turn. “First, you.” You locked eyes with Edward. “Stop reading my cringe-worthy daydreams—I can’t handle that level of exposure.”

He pressed his lips together in a teasing way, then nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Second,” you said, turning to Jasper, “no more flooding me with calm vibes to manipulate me into hugging you for, like, five minutes at a time.”

Jasper put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I don’t do that on purpose. Usually,” he added under his breath.

“And third,” you said, scanning between them, “I don’t want either of you jumping to assumptions about being my ‘mate.’ I don’t even know what that truly means aside from it being the vampire version of destiny. Maybe I’m too new to see the big picture, but…” You shrugged, folding your arms. “I’m not ready to commit. I like you both. Deal with it.”

Edward’s eyes flickered with relief and a shade of disappointment simultaneously, as though he’d half-expected you to declare an immediate eternal bond. Jasper gave you a solemn nod, managing a small, humble smile.

“So you want to, what, keep this casual?” Edward asked.

“I want to keep living—uh, un-living—my new existence,” you corrected, “without strapping myself into an epic love saga just yet. Let me be a baby vampire who can’t even do a normal grocery run without wanting to pass out from the smell of raw hamburger.” Your voice dropped into a mock superhero tone: “Time to buy more steak sauce, but oh wait, I can’t eat human food anymore.”

A strained silence passed, then Edward sighed, letting the corners of his mouth lift. “Fair enough.”

Jasper stepped closer, just enough that he could have touched your arm, but he hesitated. “And if we…I don’t know, slip up? If one of us tries to edge the other one out?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You both have about a century of experience on me. I promise, if you slip up, I will find some comedic way to remind you. Maybe I’ll laminate a scoreboard.”

At that, Jasper chuckled quietly. Edward dipped his head, biting back a grin. It seemed the cold war between them was cooling off—somewhat.

Emmett broke into a broad smile. “Aw, man, a scoreboard. Please put me in charge of that. I’ll keep track of who gets the most time with you. Strictly for comedic purposes, of course.”

From across the house, Rosalie’s voice rang out, “Don’t encourage them!”

As the sun sank below Forks’ ever-present clouds, you rose from the couch, nearly tripping over the rug on your way to the door—reflexively, Jasper grabbed your elbow, steadying you. Edward hovered just behind you, poised to catch you if you stumbled further.

“Thanks,” you murmured to both of them, awkwardly aware of their closeness. Being flanked by two protective vampires had once seemed terrifying, but now it felt…comforting. Still weird, though.

“We’re not going to solve everything tonight,” you said, taking a purposeful step back so you could see them both—and so you didn’t spontaneously lean into someone’s chest. “Let’s just agree not to tear each other apart, yeah?”

Edward extended a hand toward Jasper, as if to form a truce. Jasper eyed it warily for a moment before accepting the gesture in a calm, if reluctant, handshake. “Alright,” Edward said. “No tearing each other apart.”

Jasper nodded. “Can do.”

Feeling a spark of mischief, you clapped your hands. “Great. That’s one less lawsuit for Dr. Cullen to worry about. In the meantime, Emmett—please start designing that scoreboard.”

“On it!” Emmett crowed from the doorway.

“Have a good night, you two,” you said to Jasper and Edward. Then, with a flash of a grin, you headed for the stairs, half-dreading, half-anticipating the comedic fiascos tomorrow was sure to bring. Behind you, you heard their faint conversation:

(Edward) “He’s definitely going to drive us insane, isn’t he?”

(Jasper) “Yep.”

(Edward) “… And you’re okay with that?”

(Jasper) “I think I am.”

Your lips quirked into a smile. Even if you didn’t believe in mates, you had to admit—it felt pretty good having not just one, but two admirers who thought you were worth fighting for. Sure, you still sparkled like a glitter bomb gone awry, and your vampiric existence remained confusing at best. But if that’s the price of comedic immortality… well, you could live—er, un-live—with that.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Kiwi

Ship: Zayne x MC/fem!reader

Summary: Zayne knows life has treated him well—very well, when he has you by his side and a baby on the way. But even with all your reassurance and years spent together, Zayne finds himself questioning if he really deserves everything he has...

Word Count: 2,440 words

Warnings: angsty, very domestic, fluff, drabble, reader is pregnant, Zayne's in his head a lot, reader is depicted to like crime shows, use of nicknames "honey" (by Zayne, for reader) and "darling" (by reader, for Zayne), head nuzzles

Notes: Getting through more of Forseer's myth inspired this, so there's the angst element for ya! Written (mostly) before the main story update... The lyrics of the song in this fic belong to Sara by Fleetwood Mac!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Spring was coming to Linkon. Zayne could see it everywhere as he got out of his car and walked to the front door of his house. The snow had all but melted, leaving front yards a mushy, muddy mess. The icicles that had been camped out over the front stoop for at least a month had dripped away into nothing. And the sun was out, golden and warm, making Zayne's winter coat that had been necessary this morning a useless, heavy scrap of fabric draped over his arm now.

Perhaps I'll make her tea, he thought, inserting his key into the lock, and convince her to sit outside while we read today.

You weren't on the sofa as he had expected, though it looked like you had been recently. The TV was on a crime show, its volume low, but music was coming from somewhere inside the house.

"Honey?" he called, sliding his shoes off.

"Kitchen, darling!"

The sound of your voice was a soothing balm to Zayne's tired body. Tension drained from him as he hung up his coat. He padded toward the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, the sound of the music grew a little louder.

Zayne paused where he stood once you came into view in the open floor plan. You stood at the counter, humming to the song on the radio, your hips swaying in time with the music. You were a distance away from the counter, your baby bump in the way.

You hadn't realized he'd neared the kitchen, so Zayne leaned on the wall as he admired you.

There was a glass bowl next to you, cubed green fruit inside of it. You had a peeler in one hand and another kiwi, half-peeled, in the other. You'd broken out one of the spring maternity dresses you'd bought, a soft pink and green in color, flowing around your legs as you swayed in place.

Zayne had always thought you were beautiful—the most beautiful girl in the world, really, which was utterly cliché and perhaps childish, but he didn't care. But, staring at you now, he found himself realizing you had reached a new height of beauty, just standing in your kitchen.

You finished peeling the kiwi, still without noticing him in the doorway. You placed it on the cutting board and cut it. Each and every flick of the knife was precise and somehow gentle, like you were afraid of hurting the cutting board beneath if you pressed too hard.

Ooh, the laces... Undoing the laces.

You swayed as you scooped up the kiwi and put it into a small bowl. You were singing along softly now as you reached for the container of sugar.

Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart—never change, never stop.

Fingers pinched together, you sprinkled a light dusting of sugar onto the kiwi. You dusted off your hands over the cutting board, then moved to the sink with your peeler and knife in hand to wash.

But now it's gone. It doesn't matter what for, but when you build your house, oh, then call me home!

Zayne stepped into the kitchen, heading toward you. You certainly had been calling him home—for years. You'd been an intrinsic part of his life since you were kids, always interested in what he was doing, always there for him when he needed you, even if he didn't know it. More often than not, Zayne thought you knew him better than he knew himself.

Without you noticing, Zayne came up behind you. He put his hands on your hips, kissing your cheek softly. You hummed happily, a smile stretching across your face. You leaned back into him.

"You're home earlier than I expected," you murmured.

Zayne's hands slipped beneath your belly, cradling both you and baby. "I was ahead of schedule today," he said. "And I had no other appointments this afternoon, so I decided to come home rather than be in my office for another two hours." He lifted your bump gently, relieving some of the pressure on your body. You sighed softly, leaning even further back onto his chest.

He settled his chin on your shoulder. You rested your head against his, closing your eyes.

Zayne breathed you in. You smelled of your usual perfume, the beginnings of spring, and the laundry detergent the two of you used. Comfort swept over him, easing its way into his tired muscles. Tension slowly siphoned out of him, his shoulders relaxing.

How had he gotten this lucky? How had he become a man lucky enough to have the woman he loved relaxed in his arms, her very smell easing his body and mind when nothing else could?

He didn't deserve you. He knew he didn't, even if he couldn't really put his fingers on why. Elusive as the feeling was, it was overwhelming at times—enough that Zayne often found himself restless at night, tossing and turning until you woke up and coaxed him back to sleep in your embrace. And while he didn't deserve you, Zayne was a selfish man, keeping you to himself as he was.

You turned your head toward him, kissing his cheek. "I do so love when you come home early," you murmured. Zayne nuzzled into you, burying his head in your neck. You reached up and gently began massaging his scalp with your nails. Zayne let out a sound that was nearly a whimper. "How was work?"

"Good," he whispered. "Two back to back surgeries."

You hummed. "Tiring, then," you said. You had a marvelous way of picking up what he was putting down, knowing what he wanted to say behind what he did say.

That was probably how you'd gotten here in the first place. Years of Zayne biting his tongue when all he wanted to do was beg you to be his. And you'd known. All along, you'd known exactly how he felt about you, how it killed him to stay silent but felt like a fate worse than death to tell you.

Zayne mimicked your hum in answer. He whispered a soft warning before gently releasing his grip on your belly. You exhaled as you took the weight of the baby on your own again.

"Kiwi?" you offered, pushing the bowl toward Zayne. He'd discovered over the past few months that you liked to share your craving snacks almost as much as you liked eating them. And that the pout you gave him if he refused was a death sentence to his heart.

He pushed a few pieces of the kiwi onto a fork.

The smile you gave him as he chewed was enough to melt away the day's stress and tension from his shoulders.

"Sweet enough?" you asked. Zayne nodded. He leaned in, lips brushing against your soft skin—idle for a moment, before he truly kissed your cheek.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Mmm, good," you said. He released you, but kept one hand on your lower back as you picked up your bowl and started for the living room. "Lots of kicking." You patted your belly softly. "I got some cleaning done in our bedroom and I finished putting up the wall decorations in the nursery." You glanced at your husband, already sensing his raised eyebrow. "And I rested. Don't worry, honey."

The two of you settled onto the couch, Zayne reaching over to adjust your pillows and blankets, fussing over you as devotedly as he had since you'd found out you were pregnant.

You rubbed your bump. "They know Daddy's home," you said, wincing through a smile. "Kicking up a storm again."

Zayne's fingers twitched at his side. "May I?" he asked.

You wordlessly grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. The two of you waited and, a moment later, the kicking began anew. A smile twitched at Zayne's lips.

There it was. The life the two of you had created together. His love for you, his need for you—kicking in your belly, demanding to be brought into the world so that it may cry endlessly about how you'd loved each other enough to make something living and real out of it.

"I don't know why you still ask," you murmured as Zayne's hand moved over your bump, following the baby's kicks. "They're your baby just as much."

"It's your body they've made a home in," he reminded you.

You smiled at him, reaching out to pull him closer. You kissed him, soft but not chaste, and Zayne cherished the way you invited him in.

She's mine, Zayne thought as your fingers traced over his jaw. All mine and only mine.

Sometimes he hated it. How possessive he was over you. Had it not been for his need for you, had he not been so obsessed with you, had not pined for you so hard that you saw it and loved him anyway...maybe you'd have a very different life. Maybe you wouldn't be carrying his baby, but another man's, loving someone else.

A dark, disgusted feeling curled through Zayne's heart, icy and dangerous. He hated that thought even more than he hated his possessiveness.

You broke the kiss and rested your head on Zayne's chest, humming contentedly. The serpent curling around his heart loosened its grip.

You were happy with him. You liked your life as it was, here and now. You'd told him time and time again that you were overjoyed to be entering this next chapter together, inviting a little one with open arms.

Zayne wrapped his arm around your shoulders and turned the volume up on the television. You hummed, settling in against him, and resumed snacking on your sugared kiwi. He watched you eat, taking the piece you offered straight from your fingertips. You met his eyes as his lips and tongue brushed against your fingers, heat in your gaze.

"Careful," he murmured, his hand moving to your belly. "That look is how we got here in the first place."

"Can't say that I mind," you said, a smile twitching on your lips.

Zayne kissed you again, adjusting to move as close to you as possible on the couch. You giggled into his mouth, then hummed when you realized he intended to linger.

Each kiss was much less reserved than the last, and, for a moment, Zayne wondered why he had ever kept such rigid restraint around you.

A loud bang made both of you jump. You realized first it had come from the television—rapid gunshots at the detectives by their fleeing suspect!—and the two of you laughed softly, pressing your foreheads together.

You rubbed your thumb over Zayne's cheek. "Someone's very affectionate today," you murmured, searching his face. "Everything okay?"

He nodded, nuzzling into your hand. "Let's just say I'm feeling particularly grateful to have you by my side today," he said quietly.

Your face broke into a smile that made Zayne feel a thousand pounds lighter. You cupped his face in both hands and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I love you," you whispered into his skin.

Zayne's throat felt tight. It never felt any less wonderful to hear those words, even though you'd said them countless times. Each and every instance was perfect. "I love you, too," he murmured.

Even if you deserved so much more, you loved him. You wanted him. You'd chosen him, time and time again, and he knew you always would. Even after all the times he'd thought himself unworthy and had tried to take a step back—you stepped with him.

The episode ended with the show's theme song. The credits began to roll.

"Shall we go read on the porch?" Zayne suggested as you turned off the television. He took your now-empty bowl of kiwi and placed it on the coffee table.

"Mmm, that does sound nice," you said. "I might fall asleep, though."

He chuckled. "That's alright," he assured you. He kissed your temple. "I'll be content as long as I'm with you."

Zayne grabbed both your book and his while you gathered up the blanket. The air was still pleasantly warm out on the porch, but the chill would arrive quickly as the sun began to set.

He steadied the porch swing for you, then sat beside you. You got comfortable against him, covering your lower halves with the blanket. He handed you your book and within minutes, you were both deeply engrossed in your novels.

Peace settled over Zayne, the small voice in his head finally quiet, banished by the comfort and familiarity of this routine. If told to pick, this was Zayne's favorite part of the day—coming home to you and existing together, taking personal time but being close should the other need it.

A few chapters went by before you closed your book with a yawn. You settled against Zayne's shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Tired?" he asked.

"No," you lied. "'m fine." You nuzzled against him. "Read to me?"

"Alright," he said, amused, flipping back a page to get to the beginning of the chapter.

Barely ten minutes later, Zayne felt your weight settle more distinctly onto him. Another minute, and your head was slipping a little on his shoulder. You were fast asleep, lulled by the sound of his voice as you had been so many times before.

Zayne adjusted your head and kept reading aloud to you, certain that you would wake with a jolt if he stopped. Just a little more. Just until dinner, and then I'll wake you.

With you asleep on his shoulder, Zayne felt like a teenage boy again, his heart racing with you so close and so vulnerable. He felt, oddly enough, like he had when you'd chosen him for the first time—giddy and boyish and overwhelmingly happy.

He turned and pressed a long, lingering kiss to your temple.

Yes, Zayne was a selfish, selfish man. But he found he didn't care. Not when being selfish meant providing you with a life that kept you happy. Not when he'd fall asleep with you in his arms, baby wiggling around inside you, just about ready to meet the world.

And the voice would come back, likely with the dawn as it often did, telling him he did not deserve you. But it didn't matter now and it would not matter then. It would never matter, with your warmth in his arms, and your love in his heart.

He kissed your temple again. "I love you."

Zayne closed his book and waited for you to stir awake at the loss of his voice, his eyes fixed on the sky, glowing pink with the setting sun.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Love and Deepspace // Zayne

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the L&DS taglist!}

[buriedpentacles]

How to Work with Nature Spirits

Warning: Long Post under the Cut!!

Before getting into this, I want to preface that this is heavily based on my experiences and UPG. This is intended to be a helpful guide for anyone not sure on where to start but my Number 1 piece of advice will always be: Just go for it. Your experiences will be different from mine and that's a good thing! Be respectable and figure out what works best for you. With that in mind, let's get into it.

First, let's define 'nature spirits'. Nature spirits may conjure a number of associations and concepts depending on your culture, religion or practice! For the purpose of this post, 'Nature Spirits does not refer to any nature-associated deities or entities such as The Fae, Dryads/Naiads/Oceanids/etc, Elves etc - while many of these practices could be applied, each of these entities has specific cultural and religious etiquette attached that I'm not going to get into!

In this post, Nature Spirits are the spirits of all natural things, following the animistic view that everything has spirit. Plants, animals, rocks, metal, landscapes, etc. This is an incredibly broad definition, that can be narrowed or adapted however you see fit, nature is not an easily defined box. You can create your own categories or definitions, if that makes it easier to understand. For example, I may categorise certain spirits by a dominant element, or biome, or breadth, but these categories will always only ever be guidelines. (Note: at some point I want to make a post about different nature spirits along with some personal experiences. Will link here!)

Which brings us to the next point: accept that nature is not neat, and neither are the spirits. There is a level of overlap between different spirits that cannot be easily discerned - there is no clear, easily drawn line between the spirit of The Forest and the spirit of the Trees. The Spirit of that One Particular Crow is not entirely separated from the Spirit of Crow, but they are also not the same. The Spirit of the Stream will flow into the Spirit of The Ocean and you cannot pull them apart, yet you can still work with one but not the other. It is all a tightly interwoven web of spirit, it mirrors the balance and entwinement of the complex ecosystems all around us. Spirits and energies can shift and change with each meeting because of the changing seasons, the time of day, the influence of the landscape around it, or just because. Some spirits can be particularly variable, and it's important to recognise this! When working with nature spirits you must be open minded and adaptable, meet them as they are.

So how do you actually work with them?

This can largely depend on your goal, so I'll break this into two categories; A one time or "casual" relationship, or building a long-term relationship. I have both of these types of relationships - it would be impossible for me to have a long-term relationship with each individual spirit, but sometimes I want to ask them for help. My long term relationships are with Nature itself, and a handful of plant/animal/land spirits, the rest of my practice is made up of much shorter-term relationships that are made much easier by my long-term relationship with Nature. Again, figure out what works for you!

Working with Nature Spirits Once/Casually

Maybe you have a specific spell or petition that you think a nature spirit would be PERFECT to help you with. Or you want to add an extra bit of oomph to your spellwork by working with the spirit(s) of your ingredients. Or maybe, you just want to give (nature) spirit work a go. Whatever the reason, sometimes we just want a short-term relationship with a spirit. This can also be a helpful approach if you want to take something from nature* (i.e. a tree branch to be your wand, some flowers as spellworking ingredients, etc) and want to ensure it's permitted and you respect the spirit.

The best way to approach this, from my experience, is to be honest with the spirit, and respectful. Some Nature Spirits have no interest in helping someone they don't have a relationship with, and some spirits don't want to help period. Leave an offering for the spirit (expanded upon in the Offerings section further in the post), call upon them and ask them if they would be open to what you need. It really can be as simple as:

"Spirit of Oak, I ask you humbly if you would aid in my enchantment. I give you this offering and ask if I may take one of your many branches. I ask that you may allow your magic and wisdom to stay with it and empower it to be my wand. Thank you."

You may get in an answer through divination such as tarot or runes, through your clairsenses, or you can ask the spirit to provide a sign. If they say no, respect that. Thank them and leave. If you aren't willing to hear no, you should not be working with spirits.

If they say yes, but give certain requirements - i.e. "Yes, but only so much. Yes, but I want an offering of xyz in return. Etc" respect that and consider if you're willing to oblige. If not, thank them and leave. Spirits do have preferences and requests, and sometimes they change over time! I.e. in Summer, Oak may be happy for you to take one of his branches, but in Winter, when he and his wards (Oak, in my experience, is a very protective and familial spirit, often charging himself with protection of the land he lives on) are struggling, he may only allow you to take it if you agree to leave some extra bowls of water as an offering.

This doesn't just have to be a one-off, even for short-term relationships. If you are asking for quite a lot or something significant, you should leave multiple offerings over time before asking for permission - especially if the spirit you're working with might be a bit less welcoming.

*If taking something from nature, always ensure you are taking no more than you need and, if applicable, leave more than enough for that resource to survive (unless it is invasive to your area). Respecting the mundane balance of nature is the most important thing. Also, check any laws in your area regarding collecting feathers, certain plants, bones etc!!

Building a Long-Term Relationship

If you want to build a longer relationship with Nature Spirits, or connect more deeply with nature as a whole, there's a few 'steps' I would recommend:

Research and learn about your local area! What plants are you most likely to find? What animals and trees? How do the seasons change and impact the land? What patterns can you find? Do they align with your personal experiences? Join local Birdwatching or foraging groups, pick up localised wildlife books, take online courses! Learn about the world around you!

Get outside and experience it! Get a nature journal to record what you notice - when do you notice the bees coming back after Winter? What are the first plants to sprout in Spring? When do the first Autumnal leaves fall? What animals do you see most? What trees? Sit outside with no intent other than to *feel*. Sit in the forest and let your energy merge with everything around you; feel how the tree roots stretch beneath the soil, and intermingles with stretching mycelium, feel the flap of insects wings and the wind on your skin. Feel the energy of the spirits around you. Like when trying to befriend a crow or stray cat, you must give them time to adjust to your presence.

Leave offerings on a regular basis. This can be done on your altar at home, but often the most effective offerings are ones that aid the physical side of the spirits of well!

Talk to them (without necessarily expecting a response). Say good morning to the magpies on your way to work, tell the trees about your day. Even if you are trying to build a relationship with one specific spirit, it never hurts to connect to nature and its other spirits - sort of like being polite to the in-laws. All of nature is connected, if you're trying to befriend Lavender but throw litter out the car window, it's gonna be much harder to forge a connection.

Ask the spirit if they want a working relationship with you! And respect their answer if they say no. If they say yes, ask them how you've been doing so far - is there something you've been doing that they don't like? Or that they wish you would do more? Do they have any preferences? Requests? Some spirits don't like to communicate through tarot, others have specific times of day they prefer to talk. Some of this can be discerned through research (i.e. nocturnal animal spirits might prefer nighttime communication) but much of it can only be learned by *asking the spirit*.

Keep it up. This is it. This is what a relationship with spirits is: consistent communication and respect. What you choose to do with this relationship, and how it evolves and changes is entirely up to you! Nature is not a religion, these spirits are not a part of a specific tradition or culture (though you are more than welcome to incorporate your own culture/traditions/religions into your relationship with them) and so there are no pre-set prayers, offerings, rituals etc; it is up to you to build a unique and personalised relationship with them!

If you ever want to end it, be respectful and polite. Thank the spirit for everything, provide them a final offering and say goodbye.

Offerings for Nature Spirits

Here are some suggestions of offerings for Nature Spirits, but they are just suggestions and recommendations from my own experiences; come up with your own and figure it out *with* the spirit!! I've divided them into physical and non-physical offerings:

Water (a classic, hard to go wrong)

Wildlife Safe food (this will require research and will be very dependant on your area. HOWEVER, it should not be done regularly, and ideally should be in your garden rather than a public or "wild" area - bird feeders, feeding hedgehogs etc Feeding wildlife can cause more harm than help a lot of the time).

Coins, tobacco, crystals etc (some 'traditional' spirit offerings in many cultures. These are best for any indoor altars rather than outside.

Picking up Litter or other acts of service (an amazing offering, often highly appreciated)

Removing Invasive Species!

Physical touch (NOT for animals or potentially dangerous plants. Do your research. This may be a hand in the river, a hug to the tree, bare feet on the soil.)

Time (a simple, yet much appreciated offering)

A poem, artwork, prayer

Donating to their conservation/aid

Other parts of nature (laying flowers at the foot of the tree, berries for the crow spirit, dressing a fox skull in leaves)

In my experience, acts of service or creation are often much more appreciated than physical offerings! Art in their name, cleaning the local stream of litter, calling your PM to pressure more conservation policies etc are far better than leaving a - potentially disruptive and harmful - piece of food.

What NOT to Do?

This is also UPG based, but there are some things I would really NOT recommend.

Not doing your research. You wouldn't jump into a relationship with a deity without learning anything about them, why do the same for nature spirits? Just because they don't have specific religious lore surrounding them, doesn't mean you shouldn't learn. Pick up a field guide or book on local folklore.

Leaving human food outside. You baked a tasty brownie and want to share it with the Fly Agaric spirit you're building a relationship with? Great - leave it as an offering but TAKE IT BACK HOME WITH YOU. Let the spirit take the energy from it it wants/needs, and then remove it. Do not leave human food outside. If you INSIST on leaving a form of food offering, it MUST be safe for the local wildlife.

Littering. Doing a spell with Birch? Cool. Make sure you don't leave anything behind. Ideally, use compostable or wildlife safe ingredients (i.e. beeswax candles, toilet paper tubes instead of spell jars etc)

Graffiti/Carvings on trees/rocks etc. Sigils and art can be a great tool/offering but PLEASE don't graffiti or carve into trees/rocks/natural things. It does damage them. Write a with your finger in sand or on your palm or recreate it with branches instead.

Taking more than you need. Don't collect every shell you see on a beach, don't pick up every skull or bone your find in a forest, don't pick every mushroom or herb in a patch. Take what you need, ask permission, leave more than you take.

DO NOT GO INTO FORAGING/BONE COLLECTING/HIKING/LITTER PICKING WITHOUT PROPER SAFETY PRECAUTIONS. Know the laws in your area. Know the trails and paths. Have a map if the area if large enough. Know what plants are safe to touch, if you're not sure - DON'T TOUCH IT. Know what is safe to forage, ideally have an expert to confirm, if you are not 10000% certain, LEAVE IT (and I mean 100000% certain. Not 99%). Wear proper hiking boots, be aware of the weather and any risks in the area. Keep up with weather warnings. Know if there's any traps in the woods. Going litter picking? Make sure you're aware of any local vaccination attempts, as the devices used to help vaccinate wild animals may look like rubbish. Be sensible, be SAFE.

General Tips and Advice

Use common sense and critical thinking.

Notice how I kept saying "local" in this post? That's because it's ideal for a nature-based practice to be localised to your surrounding area! I live in the UK, so whats the point in me trying to build a relationship with spirit of Bald Eagle? It has no roots in my land, nor in my heritage or craft. It is much easier to connect to a nature spirit that you can actually, physically visit, or that has a deep connection to your culture/religion/heritage than one that you thought "seemed cool".

Take it slow, and take it easy. There are no strict rules besides don't be a jerk. The best expert on any particular spirit is that spirit!

However, its important to be safe. Know how to protect yourself and how to banish. Don't call on any spirit you can't get rid of. Not all nature spirits are friendly.

Nature spirits are also not a monolith. They overlap, they blur and twist together but working with Bramble is an entirely different experience to working with Lavender. Be prepared. You can typically get an idea of a spirit's personality through research - it peeks through in the science and ecology, as well as the folklore.

Practice energy work! Nature spirits, in my experience, love to communicate through energy. Sit with yourself for a while, learn what thoughts are yours, what sensations are your own, so that you can differentiate from others. Get used to the feeling of nature and its spirits - they will guide you and help you, they will teach you knowledge you cannot imagine.

You're allowed to say no, and so are they.

Do not be deterred by your circumstances. You live in a city? There's still nature spirits there, a lot of them. (Will link my post about Urban Nature Spirit Work here when posted). Struggle to get outside regularly? Get a Houseplant (will link houseplant post too) watch nature documentaries, find a way to connect to nature and it will find a way to connect to you.

Remember that YOU are a part nature. You are not an onlooker, you are not an outsider, YOU are a part of the ecosystem, apart of natural history and the complex beauty of evolution and change. YOU are an animal and you are so much more similar to the foxes and bears and flies and butterflies than you think.

I hope this post has been helpful to some! Please feel free to add any of your own points/experiences or ask questions/suggest future posts!!

Praise Mother Nature 💚🌿🪲

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Curse Your Name

𖤐❝The Preachers Daughter❞𖤐

❥Vampire Ateez x fem reader

❝What is destined cannot be avoided.❞

Masterlist + Visualizers

✫彡wordcount: 9k

(✯◡✯)genre: yandere, fantasy, smut, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: see general warnings in the masterlist: injuries, blood + drinking said blood + hard ons from said drinking of said blood, fear, supernatural elements, age gap (reader mortal/ateez over 300 years old😭), unbalanced power dynamics, forced smooches, fictional religion, soulmate au

➯a/n: and so it begins *evil laughter*

✫taglist✫(i can't think of something clever help lmao) @spenceatiny18 @gigglensnort @londonbridges01 @soobieboobiebaby @killerwaifu @stayatinykatsy @onyxmango

✩index: veil walking - an advanced spiritual technique when your soul leaves your body and takes you somewhere else. Caethnor dialect: ka - spoken before or after a sentence to make it more serious or stern. ba - spoken before or after a sentence to make it softer. mi - added after someone's name to show affection.

there will only be a few instances where i use an entirely made up language but when i do the translation will be written next to it {like this}

❝Drink from me and live... forever.❞

MDNI.

𖤐❝Fate cannot be changed.❞𖤐

Caethnor is a lucky village.

The river that flows in a near circle around the community is beautiful and provides protection and resources. Water grass and marine life are plentiful, even in winter months one could break through a shallower part of the water and fish. There is only one main bridge into and out of the town.

Not only that, it is a good two week journey from the capital of the realm. From the home of the cruel and disinterested High King and his council. You've only had the displeasure of seeing one of them in your lifetime, back when you were a child.

The homes are generational, built by the inhabitants close ancestors. Wood and cobblestone is the extent of the materials. Even then, cobblestone is only on the walkways and floors. Besides one building.

The church that stands at the back of the town. It's built completely of cobblestone.

That's where you almost always are.

And that's where you are now.

    Ever since you spilt your first blood, you were wed to The Goddess. That was a good few years ago now. But you still felt like a piece of you was missing. The part that everyone said was filled when they met their soulmate.

     You shake your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts and closing your eyes. If you weren't fulfilled with having The Goddess as your soulmate, you just needed to pray harder. That's what your father said.

     You're kneeled by the window on the second floor, hands clasped when —

    The fluttering of wings makes you a peek an eye open, thinking that you're imagining things like you did in your childhood.

    "Oh... Elhyna, li'hora," you whisper as you open both your eyes, watching the large feathered creature hop around on the window sill. You reach out slowly when you see the scroll on its foot, "long travels...?" When you grasps the paper, it flies away; its job complete. {Oh... Hello, bird.}

    You hum as you look down at it. It's clearly good quality parchment, and it's sealed with red wax stamped down with the sigil of the realm. You've never seen it in real life before now, only in the old and withering books in the churches library.

"Pa!" You yell through the window to the man who's tending to the offering bowl next to the river. "A messenger bird came! It has a red seal, should I-"

"I'm on my way!" You swear you've never seen the middle aged man run so fast, he's back inside the building before you even blink.

You're sitting down with Tihilda when he busts into the room, panting and waving for you to hand over the scroll you're inspecting.

"Hand it here," he huffs, rolling up the sleeves of his white robe.

He quickly breaks the seal and unravels it, his face becoming dimmer with each word he reads. "What does it say?" Tihilda coughs as she attempts to stand, and you're there quickly with some cooling tea.

As you hold it for her, you look back towards your father. "Pa?" He's sweating. He looks like his heart is about to fail.

He crumbles it up and tosses it in the fire. "We should begin gathering some offerings to the High Council."

You see now why he was so frightened. Their species is superior to humans. They even feed on your kind. You briefly remember your encounter with the royal Lieutenant many years ago, and it makes you shiver.

"Is King Seon-"

"Ka don't speak that devil's name in this holy house!" His yell makes you jump back, holding Tihilda's ever trembling hand.

"Sorry, Pa..."

"Go, go and do ten prayers. Beg that The Goddess did not hear you summon him to you."

As you exit the room with your head lowered, Tihilda sighs. "Preacher," she shakes her head, "you are too hard on that poor girl. It is not her fault she is fated in such a way."

"She is fated to no one. She promised herself to The Goddess-"

"You don't think that will save her, do you?"

They're in a stalemate for a good moment before his shoulders slump. He makes his way to the table, helping her with the teacup she struggles to hold still enough to drink from.

"I would rather first die than let that be her fate. Let those... false men be her soul mate. I promised her mother..."

"The Goddess does not care about human promises."

"So you've said." He sets the cup down carefully and looks to her, "you still have not seen any change in her future?"

"Not since the day she was born. It is always the same. You know this. Fate cannot be changed." When he says nothing, she continues, "what did the messenger bird bring us?"

"Three of the High King's royal council will arriving in two days time. They expect five sacrifices."

"Five... Oh, heavens. How will we tell everyone?"

He hesitates, "it said not to. The smell of fear t- it taints the smell, it said. They will choose their own offerings."

"It's time to tell your daughter the truth. She cannot-"

"She never has to know. She needn't even meet the retched men. Her encounter with the Lieutenant was enough fright for a life time. We got lucky."

     The old woman scoffs, "lucky."

𖤐❝Don't try to put on a brave face.❞𖤐

With a grunt of effort, the men slide the preacher's podium across the cobblestone, revealing a wooden hatch door on the floor.

Your father, since there was no discernible leader of this village, he was the closest thing to such. He gathered you all in the church pews where you would worship together, and told you all that some of the High Council would be here in 'two days time.'

Panic was immediate, but he stressed the fact that they would not be hurting anyone. They just wanted some offerings. Just to be sure, though, children would be hiding in the basement with the Goddesses trusted sisters.

You were one such sister.

It was the very early hours of 'two days time' later, and you had younger boys help you prepare for the councils arrival.

"Thank you, Oswin," you hum as he pulls up the hatch, a cloud of dust coming up with it. "Sweet heavens, when was the last time anyone went down here?"

"I heard," Cynble clears his throat, waving his hand to disperse the dust, "last time anyone was in here was last time the High King was here. About, what? Fifty something years ago?"

"That's what my mother said, her grandmother was one of the Kings meals," Oswin hands you a lantern, a frown on his face.

"My father said the same. The last time they came with warning, everyone hid," you gulp as you take a step down the old stone stairs. "Will you both be joining us in the basement? Don't try to put on a brave face. There is no one to impress."

"I will, yes." Cynble nods quickly, "my little sister as well. She doesn't even know the tales of Vampires, she thinks this is just a practice for if we get invaded."

"Mayble?"

"Yes- aaah!" The teen yells as a rat runs past you all, grabbing onto his friend's arm. "Woooooah, shit, that scared me!" He laughs with a hand on his chest, making you shake your head with a smile.

"We can see." You grin lightly as you look around the room. It has a few dusty beds. A few crates with old blankets on them, clearly used as furniture a few decades ago. "Oswin, will you be joining?"

"No, I traded my spot for my big sister."

"Why would you do that? She's an adult, we're supposed to be hiding children," you give him a questioning look as you hand him the lantern.

As he explains, you gesture for Cynble to help you in pushing the beds together.

"I heard that women and girls taste better to Vampires. Like how humans prefer sweet wine over bitter. A traveler once told me that a Vampire walked right by him even when he was bleeding, so it could drink from his wife. I have a feeling that your father isn't telling us everything, and that blood will be spilt. No- no offense meant, I just mean that, isn't it strange that the High Council would come all the way out here and not feed?"

"I agree." You cough as you yank the blankets off of the straw mattresses, going on as you gather the ones on the crates as well. "I know that my father is not telling us the truth of everything. But I do believe he is doing what he deems best."

You take the lantern and lead them back up the stairs, "we can make room for you, Oswin mi. Don't fret."

𖤐❝Sevalin bou, solenya.❞𖤐

"Down you come," you smile as the toddler waddles down the stairs, "you're so fast!"

It was near mid-day, and with no idea of when the councilmen would arrive; you all decided it was best to get into place sooner rather than later.

You had spent the morning hours cleaning the decrepit room, making it as comfortable as possible. You had it fairly well lit, dusted and swept and blankets back in place after being knocked clean.

All of the (two) babies of the village are laid on the bed with the two other nuns. The handful of toddlers are playing with one another, and the smaller group of teenagers sit along the walls.

All together, it was around twenty people in the basement.

The toddler, Mayble, was the last one. "There you go, sweetie," you pat her head as she successfully joins you at the bottom of the stairs.

You look up, meeting your father's eyes, "we won't be able to hear, but keep it to a minimum anyways, okay? Vampiric hearing is no joke."

You only nod. You're afraid of what's to come; but you don't dare show it with all of the children looking to you and the other sisters for strength.

"Sevalin bou, solenya" he smiles, sadly. {I love you, only child}

"Sevalin bou, Pa."

You turn as the door is shut, covering your eyes as dirt comes down with it. You hear the podium being slid back into place, and after that it's just muffled voices of the congregation.

"(Y/n)," Mayble pulls on your long skirt, "will you tell me a story while we wait?"

𖤐❝The more blood, the stronger the scent.❞𖤐

    It was many hours later at this point, you had concluded from the amount of oil that had been burnt up in one of the lanterns. With a sigh, you take a seat on a crate near the few teens who are speaking quietly between themselves.

    "Hey," Owsin hums, thankfully having joined his older sister in the basement, "we were talking about soulmates. What about yours?"

    "Mine?" You chuckle softly, "no, I don't have one. Neither does Sister Brea or Sister Magiah. We're fated to serve The Goddess."

Sarin, his sister, tilts her head. "Really? No soulmate? And you're okay with that ba?"

"I can't imagine having a soulmate anyways," you smudge the truth just a bit. You can imagine it. You crave for it. You want to feel the spark that your father always described having with your mother when they touched. You want to 'feel like you're being kissed by a million butterflies.'

You wonder why he told you about that, knowing you would never experience it for yourself.

He only talked of her when he indulged in wine.

"My soul is full serving the Goddess." Oh, you'll have to pray so much for lying.

"You dare lie to me?!"

You hear a booming voice above you, making you all jump. One of the babies begins crying. Then the other.

Then some of the toddlers are whimpering and tearing up. While your sisters quickly tend to the babies, you and the teenagers are running over and shushing the children.

One of them slips away, making a break for the stairs. "Aliah!" You whisper yell, making the boy stop, "c-come. Come here, get away from there."

The boy, in his panic, knocks over the lantern you had on the last step. Thankfully, the flame goes out. But less fortunately, glass is now surrounding the boys bare feet. "Don't move ka." You whisper as you slowly come closer.

With a peek up the stairs, you slowly start scooting the glass away with your hand, making a path for him as you ignore the thud thud thud of your heart.

A loud crash spooks you, along with everyone else, and makes your hand falter in its careful movements. A large shard of glass finds its way to your palm — and you have to slap the other over your mouth to remind yourself not to scream.

You hold your pain and bear through it, clearing the way for the boy less carefully; shoving the glass away with your injured hand. You bite your lip as you move your hand, taking the boys and leading him into the group of kids; which have gathered on the beds you had pushed together. The older children surround them, wiping away their tears and praying with the sisters that the chaos went unheard.

You put your back to the bed and face the stairs, looking down at your hand. Every single movement of your fingers makes another gush of blood spurt out. It's unbearable to leave in.

Scent can't get through stone, right?

Whether it can or can't, you don't have time to deliberate. Your body wants the sharp object out, and now.

With a shaking hand, you quickly pinch the glass and yank it out, throwing your head back as you whimper as quietly as humanly possible.

Another loud crash.

Oswin comes and wraps a ripped piece of blanket around your hand tightly, making your eyes fill with tears at the compression. "Shhhh, the more blood, the stronger the scent." He apologizes with his eyes as he puts more pressure on your hand.

Light suddenly comes in through the cracks of the doors. Another crash. Someone threw the podium.

The door is quite literally ripped from the hinges.

𖤐❝I have waited an eternity.❞𖤐

     The three members of the Kings council waltz through the village like they own it — because, technically, they do.

     Their subordinates follow behind them loyally, as they make their way to the church at the very back of the town that could be seen from the entrance. Theres no doubt about it, that's where everyone is.

   They can smell them.

    

     One of the lower ranking men yanks the door open. The prayers stop. "Kim Hongjoong. Jeong Yunho. Jung Wooyoung." He announces them loudly.

    Everyone stands up. Quickly. All of their heads bowed.

    "This is certainly one of our smaller villages," Wooyoung nearly rolls his eyes as he counts how many people reside here. So little. So little people, in fact, they all fit in the modest main room of the church. No more than fifty, he sees.

    "Indeed." The Lieutenant keeps it short, ignoring all the rest of the people as he makes his way to the man at the podium. "Preacher," he greets.

    "My Lord, it's an honor to have you in our humble village-"

    "Don't bother lying to me. I can hear your heartbeat."

    The man, from his bowed position, pauses.

   The Vampire laughs at the sight, high pitched and spooking a fair few of villagers. "Aaah, I know you don't want me here, so I will keep this visit short."

     The preacher doesn't say anything, he isn't given the chance to as Hongjoong quickly turns away and starts scanning the standing people. "Sit." He commands, and the floor almost shakes from the sudden amount of people sitting at once.

    He walks down the aisle slowly, inhaling through his nose deeply.

    Obviously, fear is still clinging to the air. But not nearly as much as it would be if the preacher had told them why they're here. If they knew five of them would meet their maker soon... or wish they had.

   But beneath the fear, somewhere far, is something that makes his heart beat.

   His heart never beats. It hasn't in a long time.

    Someone in here... someone smells beyond appetizing.

    "Close the doors." The lackeys are doing so quickly, without question. "This is your entire village?" He turns his head, looking at the sweating man.

    "Y-yes-" He chokes against the pressure on his neck, Hongjoong had appeared infront of him in a millisecond. He's lifting him in the air by his throat.

    "Preacher, I will tell you this only once. I detest liars."

    He lowers him slowly, letting go of his throat, "so tell me," he lifts his lip, showing his elongating fangs. "Is this everyone?"

    "Yes, My Lord."

   He growls and shoves the man away. Row by row, he makes his way down. Each face of anxiety is inspected as he takes more deep breaths. But the sickly sweet smell is stale. Like it's stuck to the walls.

     Yunho and Wooyoung look on with a bit of confusion, taking inhalations of their own. But they can't latch onto what he can.

   About halfway through the room, Hongjoong is stopped by Yunho, "Joong."

    "What?" He snaps. He's completely abandoned his original task of picking five villagers. He only wants the one who smells like heaven.

   "There is no children here. Nor teenagers. They are hiding from us."

    He huffs in amusement. He was so distracted trying to pinpoint the smell that he failed to notice that everyone in the room was full grown. The smell might belong to someone who's hiding.

    He needs to smell it fresh. He needs to taste it.

    He's back at the podium, slim fingers gripping the wood so tightly that it creaks. Staring right in the man's fearful eyes, his begin to turn red. He can smell it clearer, like it's taunting him.

  

     "You dare lie to me?!"

   The wail of a child comes muffled in the following seconds. Then another.

    "From below us?" Yunho starts looking around the floor with a small smirk. Of course he was right.

    "Sneaky, sneaky~" Wooyoung joins in the search.

    When one of them knocks over something and it falls with a loud bang! —

Hongjoong stumbles. The smell is stronger. Warmer. He needs it. He needs to have the source in his hands. He bares his teeth, putting all of his weight onto the podium and breaking off the sides of it. "Tell me! Before I eat every beating heart in this room and make you watch!"

       "Under the podium." One of the frightened villagers whispers. Just loud enough for one of the nameless men to catch it.

    "Under the podium." He repeats as he approaches quickly, grabbing the preacher by the robes and yanking him away.

    The scent is growing by the second. More and more and more.

    Hongjoong tosses the offending furniture to the other side of the room without a hint of trouble. His red eyes immediately trained on a hatch on the floor.

He rips it from the hinges, throwing it into the pews where people yell and cry as they scramble to move.

He's down the stairs without a second thought —

   Yunho bumps into his back as he stalls on the last step, his eyes swirling with red as he gets his first scent of what's been driving the Lieutenant mad.

Golden deadnuts... So potent and sweet, like it can be tasted by the scent alone.

Hongjoong's thick boots slooooowly crush the glass below them as he steps down.

The cries of the children huddled together on the bed get louder. But the Vampires can't be bothered to hear them.

Because all of their senses are honed in on you.

    "You..." Hongjoong seems to recognize you. "You were right under my nose." 

Here you are. In all of your glory, kneeling on the floor with blood seeping out of the fabric wrapped around your hand. In the same village he begrudgingly left you in all those years ago.

You've grown into a woman in all these years since you unknowingly slipped away from him.

Your two pristine braids have red ribbons in them. He knows that it's a hairstyle for nuns, the color of ribbon correlating to your years of dedication. He knows that red means you were still newly promised to The Goddess, but he can't help but feel like it's for him — for them.

    Yunho gulps as his eyes follow a drop of blood down your wrist. Red following red as it taints your dress.

The crimson liquid is soaking your baby blue sleeve and skirt as it drips down.

    Your heart is beating so violently. You must be terrified.

    You are terrified. Staring at them with wide eyes and instinctual fear making your blood gush from your wound even faster.

Their eyes are screaming 'predator' with their red gaze trained on you.

     Before you know what's happening, a pair of cold hands are wrapped around your ankles. Chilling you to the bone even through your thick socks.

    As you let out a primal, ear shattering scream, Oswin yells out, "no!" He goes to grab at you, but is quickly slammed to the floor by a soldier.

     Hongjoong drags you across the floor, and Yunho yanks you up by your dress' collar as you get to the stairs.

    You're entirely too frightened to do anything as they carry you up the short stairway.

"Good Goddess," Wooyoung trips as the smell of your blood floods the ground floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He's next to you in the following second.

     The petrified crowd of people is stuck in place as they watch you be dropped to the floor. Be it from fear, or the archers ready to shoot at the first person who moves.

    "Hid-," Hongjoong pants from the sheer force he's using to hold himself back, "hiding from your High Council? Who do you think you are?"

    You only whine and shake your head, eyes going to your father who's trying to pull himself up from the same ground you find yourself on.

    "Plea-" Your pleas are replaced by screams as Wooyoung yanks the impromptu bandage off of your hand. "No, no, no!"

    Your flailing form is held down by Hongjoongs weight as he straddles your hips.

Both of Yunho's hands cradle your bloody arm like a piece of fine china, rolling down your sleeve; his eyes shining as his fingers come in contact with your skin for the first time. A broken moan parts his lips.

    Your struggles have stopped, your fear temporarily replaced by confusion as his skin on yours makes you feel like you're floating.

Wooyoungs hand on yours has the same effect.

Hongjoong catches onto what's happening, and his hand cradles your heated cheek. He nearly collapses on top of you.

What in the world is this feeling?

   "Grentizia," Yunho prays as he tilts his head back, looking at the ceiling of the church, "we have finally found her! Oh!" Another moan spills from his lips as his fingers slide in your blood.

    Your eyes are still wide with a mixture of shock and fear when his face is suddenly in front of yours, "we're finally complete... I have waited an eternity."

Wooyoung's tongue twitches out of his mouth hesitantly before it dives into your hand, he holds it with his gingerly as he laps up every droplet that's pooled on your palm and in between your fingers.

You try to yank it away, try to turn away from Hongjoong's hand as it cups your cheek, try to look anywhere but Yunho.

    You can't hear your father's weak protest over the thudding of your heart. This time, not from fear. This time, from... you can't tell. But as the blue haired man uses your eyes as a window into your soul, you find your skin buzzing from their direct touch.

   All you can manage is, "w-what?" You don't have a soulmate. You don't. You don't. You're fated to serve The Goddess —

     Yunho's lips upon yours stop any and every thought that you have. It's fleeting, but it's filled to the brim with more tingles.

    He pulls back, laughing breathily, "I can't believe it. I can't believe it! Forgive me, beautiful, but I cannot wait another second or I fear I will lose what's left of my mind."

     Before you can even blink; his tongue is on your arm, licking up your blood like he's starving, making you squeal and squeeze your eyes shut.

With them shut, you don't see Hongjoong looking down at you with a blush on his cold cheeks; watching his younger brothers feed on you. Watching your face scrunch up with disgust and... something more.

He leans, his breath on your face is the only warning you get before his lips are on your own. He kisses you like he's trying to leave a mark.

The little pleased moans of the others make him impossibly impatient. Usually he has better self control than this, he's the second oldest after all. "Apologies, little one." But you smell so tempting. He lifts your other arm and kisses the skin of your forearm gently before sinking his teeth into you.

A little gasp is all that leaves you. Your mind is entirely fried.

As are theirs.

     You taste like nothing ever has. No blood or food compares. They'd rather starve to death than to ever go back after having their first taste. They feel the sparks they felt on their skin ten fold as they travel on their taste buds, down their throats. They settle in their stomachs with your blood like a crackling bonfire.

    Wooyoung's heart feels like it might be beating just a bit too fast. Like one more push would make it explode. Along with that, he feels his pants tightening. He would fuck you right here on the floor of the worship building if he had his way. His entire being is eager to please you, to get your heart pumping more and more blood.

     Yunho isn't fairing any better, sucking and kissing every little bit of crimson liquid he can get off of his fingers and your arm. He'd hold you down for Wooyoung if it meant getting a chance to see your blissed out face moaning for them. If it's anything like the view right now, he'll probably die a second time. His gaze never leaves your face as you close your tearful eyes, lips forced apart by little whines and weak protests.

    Hongjoong is... Oh, Hongjoong... The oldest of the trio feels like a fledgling again. The entire situation has his cock painfully hard and his skin irritatingly warm. The final piece of their puzzle, right here infront of him. He'd hate himself for not sniffing you out earlier if his brain was anywhere near functioning; but it's not. Their final soulmate, held under his weight. He can't wait to see how the others react —

    His brain comes back to him.

   He hates himself for the next word he utters, but he knows it has to be done lest they send you into an even deeper shock. "S-stop."

    The other two stop their feeding frenzy with soft growls rumbling up their throats. They don't want to stop. But they know better than to go against the chain of command.

     Even though it felt like it did, the world did not stop around the four of you.

    The royal soldiers had gotten everyone out of the basement with a small bit of struggle, and were now shifting on their feet; the smell of your blood was clearly enough to make them thirsty.

    Hongjoong blinks a few times as he surveys the horrified looks of the townspeople. A smirk spreads across his bloody lips — "boo."

    The simple word spooks a great deal of them, the broken silence is enough to make them jump.

    He and Wooyoung laugh at their reactions, the latter playing idly with your numb fingers.

   Yunho places his hand on your cheek slowly, looking down at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You're breathing heavily, eyes dazed as you force yourself to keep your eyelids open. The sweat on your skin doesn't stop the way he strokes your face adoringly. "Where have you been hiding, huh?" He chuckles quietly, the question clearly rhetorical. 

     Hongjoong is tired of all of these eyes on you. "Everyone out." He turns to you, then back quickly, "leave the preacher. Boys, you can feast."

   Villagers start scrambling quickly, yells and cries of panic as the handful of lower ranking Vampires chase them out of the church.

     It takes a good few moments for the chaos to clear, and he joins Yunho and Wooyoung in inspecting you slowly while everyone clears out. "How did I miss you, little one?" He hums, rubbing your waist leisurely, "you've grown a great deal. I forget that humans do that."

   "Please, My Lords-" Your father whimpers from the bench he'd been drug to.

    Wooyoung is a blur as he runs to the man, slamming a hand on either side of his shoulders, cracking the wooden pew. "You speak when we tell you to speak!! Be thankful I don't rip your tongue out for lying to us!"

    Hongjoong begrudgingly gets off of your shell-shocked form, meandering his way over. "Yah," he tilts his head, and Wooyoung moves out of the way, still glaring daggers at the man who's responsible for hiding you. "I remember you now, preacher."

    Yunho can't help himself, and gives your wound one chaste lick; giggling quietly at the way you shiver. He takes his jacket off, and maneuvers your limp body around to drape it around you. "W-what?" You mumble hoarsely, deep in the throes of distress.

    "Shhh," he coos, carefully lifting you up. He sits you in his lap, holding back a moan and forcing himself to ignore his hard-on as he focuses on grounding you.

     "Yes, I remember clearly." Hongjoong squats infront of the man, your blood still on the corner of his mouth; he licks it up slowly. "You lied to me not just today, but all those years ago. Tsk," he has to stop himself from gutting him on the spot. "You're lucky the High King didn't come himself, you'd be eating your own guts by now."

    You gag at his words, slowly coming back to yourself. You feel like you're in the middle of a bad dream and a waking state. Nothing is making sense. But at the same time, it's all clicking into place.

   Hongjoong looks over his shoulder, standing up. "Look who's back," he smiles in a way that might be kind. "Hello ba," he repeats your words from so many years ago, "isn't that how you said it, little one?"

    You stare up at him jaw-dropped, wide-eyed. Yunho's finger brushing away a stray hair on your face feels like an electric shock, and you jolt; immediately looking down at the floor.

     "T-toriel?" Your chin wobbles, and you gulp loud enough for the Vampires to hear. You look to your father, who's washed in an aura of shame and fear. "Ba sev vela toriel?" {What's happening? I don't know what's happening?}

     Wooyoung leans over the back of the bench, now behind your father, and looks at him expectingly. "Sounds like she's asking you a question, Papa."

     Yunho doesn't care what you're saying or about the fact that he doesn't understand it, he leans his head against yours and revels in the sound of your voice.

    "(Y/n) mi, s-sev en'mali, I'm so-". {(Y/n), from my very soul, I'm so-}

     "Waaaaah, holy shit!" Wooyoung reaches the conclusion first, grabbing the back of the man's neck and yanking him back. "You told her she didn't have a soulmate."

    Yunho and Hongjoong both have realization fall over them. Yunho gets sad for you, while Hongjoong gets angry.

    "Oh, I really have to kill you now."

     "No, please!" You cry as soon as he takes a step towards him. "Please, My Lords! Have mercy on us, please, please, we-" Yunho's hand finds it way over your mouth as you plead, and your heavy hands try to pry it away.

      "Is this true, preacher?" He asks, his voice lined with a barely concealed edge, "you told her she has no soulmate?"

    "My Lords, you have to understand-"

    "Little one?" Hongjoong looks to you, and Yunho removes his hand; instead holding your shoulder. "Tell us."

    "My Lord, I- I have no soulmate, it's true. The seer- ah!" A small yelp slips up your throat as Yunho's touch once again shocks you. He has a pleased smirk. "...I'm promised to The Goddess."

    "You are promised to us," Wooyoung quickly corrects you. "Your father has been spinning bull shit." He yanks the man again, and you face away as he fights back a yell of pain.

     "Lying to the crown is betrayal. And betrayal is only punishable by death," Hongjoong goes to step again, but you find the strength to lift your arm and grab his hand with both of yours.

    They watch on with slight disbelief as you slide from Yunho's lap and kneel, your head lowered and your arms trembling as you hold onto him. You force yourself to ignore the tingling spark.

    "Please, Lord Kim..." His heart is beating again. How are you doing that? "Have mercy. I beg of you. I kneel before you-"

    "Oh, stop it." He'll give in if you don't.

   "Lord, he's all I have in the world. Please, spare his life..." You find yourself sobbing as you hang onto the Lieutenants hand, "I'll do anything."

    The three Vampires look to each other, and glee overcomes them. "What was that?" Hongjoong smirks, and any hope your father had is shattered.

   "I'll do anything..." You sniffle, your head still facing the floor when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. They haul you up quickly, and you yelp in surprise.

    It's Wooyoung, and he's carrying you down the aisle towards the door. "You'll be coming home with us."

𖤐❝Little one is brave.❞𖤐

     In exchange for your father's life, you're now packing up all of your Earthly possessions.

    It's hard with only one hand really functioning properly, but you've refused Yunho's help. You don't want anything from them. You don't know what kind of trickery Vampires can do, but you're certain that's what the tingles you felt are a product of.

    Your parents wouldn't lie to you your entire life over something so monumental, right? Tihilda wouldn't go against her oath to help people find their soulmates, right?

    The door to your home opens without warning, and Wooyoung waltzes in like he owns the place (again: because he technically does).

    You sniff as you look away from him, going back to painstaking folding your laundry on the floor.

   "Yah," he points to Yunho, who's sitting in the corner watching you, "are you making her do that all on her own?"

    "She wouldn't let me help." He shrugs, leaning back as he watches him unroll his medical pouch.

    "Come here, (Y/n)," he hums as he pulls out a vial of liquid, sitting a few feet away.

   "No." You whisper, but they catch it. Of course they catch it.

   Wooyoung sits up stalk straight, blinking at you in disbelief for a moment. Nobody is brave enough to say 'no' so plainly to any of them. Then, he feels disrespected. You may be one of his soulmates, but he's not going to let that slide. "No?"

    It's your turn to straighten up, freezing as if you realize what you've said. "I-"

    "Get over here, now."

    He doesn't have to say anything more, you're sitting in front of him as fast as humanly possible; your head hung low. "I'm deeply sorry, My Lord..."

    "Mhm," he tuts his tongue, grabbing your wrist gently and making it face palm up so he can inspect your injury.

    You didn't like him before, when he was insufferably loud — but now you certainly don't like him, when's he's quiet with a barely concealed anger. "Forgive me ba," you expect a back hand or scolding or anything other than what you get, really.

    "Give me a kiss," he says plainly, "and I'll forgive you."

    You can hear Yunho chuckling from behind you, he's taken your place in folding up your clothes and packing them into the bag they've provided.

   "A ki-ss?" You glitch internally. You never kissed anyone — well. You've never initiated a kiss with anyone.

    "That's right." You hate that his smug little smile makes you want to do it even more.

    

     You sigh, grab his jaw, and turn him to the side before giving him a quick peck to the cheek and retreating just as fast as you came in.

    "Wow," he giggles, "you loopholed me. Very clever! I'll take it~" He carefully pulls your hand forward, "now, let me clean this up, yeah?"

     You don't have much choice in the matter, but it's heartwarming that he waits for you to be ready for the sting of the disinfecting liquid. You hold back your noises of pain and breathe deeply, closing your eyes.

    "Little one is brave." Hongjoong's voice makes you jump, looking to him with wide eyes for just a moment before you go back to staring at the floor like you were earlier.

    Yunho tosses him the bag. "Anything else you want to take, beautiful?" You don't have much, all of your possessions fit into the one bag.

    "Oh," you go to grab the item that comes to mind, but Wooyoung has a tight grip on your wrist as he applies a healing salve.

    "Stay still."

    "What is it?" Hongjoong asks, leaning against the wall with the bag in hand, "I'll get it."

     You bite your lip. You don't want anyone else touching it. "I'll get it, My Lord."

    The moment Wooyoung is done wrapping your hand, you hurry to the bed and reach between the cot and the mattress, feeling around blindly.

    They watch curiously as you find what you're looking for.

    A small dagger with an engraving on it that they can't quite catch even with their heightened gaze before you sheath it.

    "A knife?" Wooyoung asks baffled, "aren't you a pacifist? Y'know, cause the whole nun thing?"

   "Yes," you shake your head, "but I don't like being defenseless."

    Hongjoong laughs softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the door after you clip the weapon onto the side of your boot. "You're full of surprises, huh?"

𖤐❝You sure she won't spear us, Joong?❞𖤐

Much to your displeasure, you were on the back of a horse with Yunho sat behind you; going on two hours now.

Although you insisted that you had never ridden a horse before, and therefore had no way of knowing how to use it to run away, they seemed to think you would use it to bolt. But, truthfully, where would you even go if you did run?

You spent a good hour thinking about that over the lazy chatter of the Vampires around you. They knew where your home town was, clearly. And thankfully a lot of people were left unscathed, you saw as you were lead to the gate. Your father among them.

If you were to go back, it would undoubtedly bring chaos with you when the men who were convinced they were your soulmates gave chase.

If you were to take your chances and try for another village, you had little hope that they wouldn't follow you there as well. Being entirely honest with yourself — you didn't even know what villages or even cities were around you. You never even thought of leaving Caethnor.

You were plucked out of your safety zone and placed on the back of an animal which you had no way of knowing how to tame, with a royal council member resting his hands on your thighs and two others riding along side you.

You hadn't even noticed when the seemingly endless march came to a halt, you only looked up from the soft brown mane of the horse when you felt Yunho's ever present weight behind you leave.

You look over slowly as he dismounts, and then survey your surroundings. The small group has stopped near a narrow stream, veered off the beaten path.

"We'll stop here for the day, get some rest," Yunho explains as he sees your curious eyes looking around, lifting his hands to you, "come."

You sigh, having no choice but to lean forward and steady yourself on his shoulders as he lifts you from the tall animal. "Thank you, My Lord." Your voice waivers as do your legs while he carefully plants your feet on the ground.

    "Oh, she speaks," Wooyoung jests as he leads his horse to the edge of the water, letting it drink as he pets its neck. "I was beginning to think you fell asleep with your eyes open."

    "Oh, leave her be," Hongjoong chuckles as he joins him.

     The group engages in conversations that you don't bother to listen to as you shuffle to the nearest tree. You lean against the bark and sigh with relief, taking some of the weight off of your weary hips.

    How has this become your reality? You went from thinking you had zero soulmate, to beginning to believe you had three Vampires as soulmates.

    Every time Yunhos skin brushed against yours, you felt it... the same sparks you felt in the church. And you could no longer write it off as a fear induced hallucination or the tingles of blood loss.

   Like you're being kissed by a million butterflies...

    You blink your tears away quickly before anyone can see them. You don't want them to ask, because you don't have an answer.

    You're just confused. Confused and unfortunately, hungry.

    You reach down and slide your knife out of its holder, ignoring the look that one of the soldiers gives you as you start looking around the tress for a suitable branch.

    With another sigh, you push off the tree and go to your chosen branch; snapping it off the tree with a small groan of effort.

     You settle further down the stream, away from the rest of them, and certainly away from the three councilmen.

    You yank off your boots and socks and roll your skirt up at your hips a few times. You can still feel eyes on you, but you pay them no mind as you sit at the edge of the water and dip your feet into the water.

     The longer the fish can feel you, the less spooked they'll be when you start trying to catch them.

    You're thankful that everyone leaves you alone as you begin sharpening your stick to a deadly point. It would give you time to think, if you were doing that. But you found yourself with a blank mind. Maybe it was still all too much to think about.

    "You think she's going to try and drive a stake through us?" Wooyoung nods towards you from where the trio sits along a fallen log.

    Hongjoong hums as he moves his gaze to look at you, "no, she's not stupid. She feels it too, I know she does."

     "Hey," Yunho starts, "how do you think the others will react? I think San might faint." The others laugh lightly with him.

    "Seonghwa is going to be over the fucking moon."

"Mingi more, probably," Hongjoong yawns as he leans his head on Yunho's shoulder, watching as you slowly stand and make your way to the middle of the stream. "He's had to watch her all this time, in his visions. He's going to freak out when he sees her for the first time."

"Do you think she's what he imagined? He said that she's always just a blur. He can only see her soul in those vision."

"She's certainly not what I imagined. The irony is hilarious," Yunho smirks as they observe you watching the water, "I mean come on. A preachers daughter — a nun? Fated to a bunch of Vampires? The Goddess must have more of a sense of humor that we thoug- woah!" He yells as you suddenly stab into the water, your makeshift spear coming back up with a fish on it. "Good heavens!"

You smile down at the fish proudly, once again ignoring everything around you as you make your way out of the water.

"You sure she won't spear us, Joong?"

𖤐❝Death is the most human thing.❞𖤐

The sun is lowering in the sky, the day almost done.

When you started collecting fallen sticks for a fire, a female Vampire named Manon had followed you. After you gave her a questioning look, she said simply, "the Lords told me to keep an eye on you."

She's polite enough to not ask about your situation, and you appreciate that about her as you slowly begin talking more and more.

When you had been getting frustrated with starting the fire, you looked around for help and met eyes with Yunho. Without a word, he stood up and came to the small bundle. A smile on his lips as he produced fire from his fingertip and lit it ablaze. You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop, you had never seen a mage in action.

You were initially the only one around the fire as you cooked your fish; it seemed that the rumor about Vampires being cold blooded was true. The lowering temperature didn't bother them.

Manon was the first to join you, offering you a flask. And with the promise that it was just water, you took it with a small smile.

You were now simply staring into the flames as the sun grew ever lower in the sky. Your brain was allowing itself to think about the situation again. And you don't like that one bit.

Because that meant that you were thinking about the fact that your father, your mother, and Tihilda had all lied to you your entire life. The fact that they knew the answer to why you always said that you felt a part of you was missing, and they withheld it from you.

If they had told you the truth, would you have even wanted it? The reality of being not just one, but multiple Vampires soulmate was daunting. Everything you've heard about them. Everything they've done. What they are.

If they had told you, it might have explained a lot. Your dreams and your hallucinations as a child. They all seemed to link back to the royals.

"What are you thinking about?" Wooyoung asks softly as he lowers himself to sit beside you.

You shove your thoughts far away and clear your throat, "nothing, My Lord."

"Oh, come on," he nudges your shoulder with his light, "we have to spend the rest of our lives together, open up a bit. Or it's gonna be a rough few thous-" He stops himself, faking a cough into his elbow. "Ahem, anyways, what's on your mind?"

You eye him suspiciously for a moment in the corner of your vision. "Uhm," you dig your makeshift spear into the dirt, "just, things... when I was a child, I had these- these dreams? But, they felt like I was really there. And sometimes, they would happen. And now, I think it's because of you all."

He listens intently, leaning back on his hands.

"When I was a girl, I had a dream of Lord Kim visiting our village. And, a few days later, he did."

"Ah, that's what he was talking about? How you've grown?"

You hum affirmatively, tracing a pattern into the soil.

He watches you close, every move you make. "What else have you dreamt of as a child?"

You hesitate for a moment, like you weren't expecting him to continue the conversation. "Well," you exhale softly. May as well converse with the man that The Goddess has slapped you in the face with. "There's... there was a spirit, a man, who always came to me in my dreams- in my waking hours too. As I grew older, he went away. He would tell me to stay where I am, that my fate would come to me. For a while, I thought they were divine visions. That I was an oracle," you stifle a laugh, "I followed the villages witch around asking her how I would know when my fate found me."

    "You sound like you were a cute kid," he smiles your way, and his heart starts thudding as you return the gesture. He gulps before asking, "did the man tell you his name?"

    You look up at the darkening sky as you file through your memories. The dreams and the hallucinations all stopped when you first bled, when you became a woman. It was quite a few years ago by now. "Uhm," you drag on, "I don't rem-"

     𖤐 You were eleven. Sitting on the steps of the village healer's home while your mother got her weekly treatment. You were sad. She wasn't getting any better.

     There was a presence beside you. There was no one there. "Your aura..." It was the same voice you heard at the river. "Why are you sad, sweet child?" His voice was clearer. It had become so with the years.

    "I'm not supposed to speak to spirits," you had said as you clasped your hands in prayer. When you are haunted by the spirit: pray — that is what you were told to do. "I bid you leave me be ka."

    "I am no spirit, I am you and you are me. I can feel your sadness. We can feel it." There was the ghost of a hand, just the faint feeling of it. It was large and cold, it wrapped around yours in a way that felt... comforting. "I might ease your pain."

    You were told that spirits were dangerous. Conniving and malevolent. That they would weasel into your heart and then take advantage of you. You knew this. But this... spirit — he didn't feel any sort of crude.

    You needed comfort, and there he was.

   "My mother," you whispered, "she has fallen gravely ill. She is in such pain, I fear she might not recover."

    It was silent for a long moment, but you knew he hadn't left you; you still felt him in the air. "Death is..." He stalled, and you swore you could feel his sigh against your skin. "Should death come for your mother, she will be at peace. She will no longer be in pain after she joins The Goddess."

   You take another long pause to register his words. "But... she will no longer be here."

    "Does the thought frighten you?"

    This was the longest conversation you'd had with the invisible man at the time. You always got spooked or interrupted. He'd asked many times where you were, but you were always too scared to answer should he be malicious.

    "Deeply, yes." You hadn't admitted it aloud. Not even to your parents. Death, especially of those close to you, scared you. One of your friends had left the village on a trip with her family, and she did not return with them. Only sadness and grief.

    "Death is the most human thing. You should not fear it, sweet child. It is only the beginning..."

    The summer sun was beating down on you. His cold hand was still upon yours. "What is your name?" You had asked. Your curiosity had gotten the better of you after his comforting words. Your father said that to speak the name of evil was to bring it to you. But you wanted to know.

    "Mingi." He had replied quickly. 𖤐

    You turn to Wooyoung after a long moment and find him staring at you.

    "Mingi."

    His eyes widen at that, "Mingi?" His shock turns into laughter, "oh, oh wow! We thought he was jesting!"

    Your brows push together with confusion, "what?"

    "I'm sorry," he says through his giggles, "I'm sorry- it's just, that was no spirit."

    "How could you know that, My Lord?"

   "Because he's the royal seer. He's our soulmate — your soulmate." He watches the cogs turn into your head as you take in the information, going on to explain, "he felt it more than all of us when you were born. He nearly fell over. He started watching over you by veil walking, trying to figure out where you were. He never could, I suppose because he's never been to your village he couldn't place it."

    "W-wait, what?" You hesitate, "who's 'all of us'?"

    "The council." He states simply, licking his lips as he hears your blood start rushing. "We're all fated together."

    You stare out at the horizon, watching the sun inch its way down. You were back to being in disbelief. Two or three soulmates, sure. A few Vampires, you could handle. But you've heard that the High King has seven council members.

    "Shocking, isn't it?" He hums, leaning forward, "for us too. Vampires with a human soulmate... The Goddess should know better. I should warn you, beautiful — the King has a large appetite."

     Tears are welling up in your eyes, and Wooyoung embraces you even as you try to lean away. He buries his head in your shoulder, arms locked around you. He forces himself to calm down, so close to your pulse point that he could easily take a sip. But he doesn't want to make you even more scared. He just wants to hold you.

    The sun is giving its last rays of light, half way below the horizon.

    You tilt your head, watching dumbfounded as something starts blocking the sun from below.

    The moon.

    An eclipse.

   The moon is taking over the sun, blocking out its light.

    As they align, it swallows the star whole.

   The sun becomes void.

𖤐❝THE PREACHERS DAUGHTER❞𖤐

𖤐❝NEXT TIME❞𖤐

You feel like you've never been so exposed in your life.

There's eight pairs of eyes on you, each of which belonging to a Vampire more frightening than the last one you look at.

As you scan the royals slowly, your hand starts trembling. "Do- do I have to, My Lords?"

"Yes," Yunho meets your gaze as you come back to him quickly after taking a peek at the High King. "It's okay ba." He's taking up your dialect in your two weeks together. It makes you slightly less nervous. "We won't let them get out of control."

You take a deep breath and look down at your hands. You pinch the needle tighter and bite your tongue as you prick your finger.

𖤐❝CURSE YOUR NAME❞𖤐

[kairawrites]

off track.

minors dni 18+, thanks!

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: lewis hamilton x black!reader

author's note: careful kaira, your Lew fantasies are showing. this is not edited, didn't need to chicken out of sharing it.

Summary: Keeping your relationship a secret is tough when Lewis can’t keep his eyes or hands off you.

Words: 2254

On track, Lewis Hamilton is fast, calm, and laser-focused, with an instinct for precision that makes every lap feel effortless. His driving is a masterclass in control, blending speed with a strategic mind that sees opportunities where others see limits. As the adrenaline surges, it sharpens his senses, fueling a relentless drive to push boundaries and seek perfection, making him not just a competitor but a force of nature on the asphalt.

Off track, he's slow and relaxed, with movements that are unhurried and deliberate. He savors each moment, finding joy in the simple pleasures and beauty around him. His demeanor is calm, almost meditative, as he takes the time to appreciate the world outside of racing. When he speaks, his words are thoughtful and measured, often turned to praising others and acknowledging their efforts. His humility shines through, as he effortlessly uplifts those around him, offering encouragement and gratitude with a sincerity that reflects his deep respect for people and life.

These habits carried into the evening, which had stretched far longer than he preferred. The event was a glittering affair, filled with familiar faces and the kind of small talk that came with the territory. It was an opportunity to converse with celebrities from different industries, and networking—a skill he had honed over the years—was second nature to him. He moved effortlessly from one conversation to the next, seamlessly blending charm and intellect. The number of introductions, handshakes, and posed smiles under the barrage of camera flashes blurred together, each interaction a practiced routine.

Yet, despite the buzz and the endless flow of champagne, his attention was elsewhere. His thoughts kept wandering back to you, the one person who stood out in the sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits. Every so often, his eyes would seek you out across the room, lingering on you as you moved through the crowd. He found himself captivated by the way you smiled, the way you laughed at some offhand remark, and the way you carried yourself with effortless grace.

The conversations around him faded into the background as Lewis watched you, his focus narrowing until you were the only person in the room who mattered. Each lingering glance he sent your way was filled with unspoken thoughts, a silent pull that neither of you could ignore. Even as he navigated the demands of the evening, you remained at the forefront of his mind, an irresistible presence that drew him in, no matter how much he tried to stay engaged with everyone else.

A month--that's how long it's been since he's last seen you. Work obligations, on both ends, proving to be an obstacle. It wasn't ideal for your reunion to be at such a public place.

The stunning emerald, green gown that flowed like liquid silk, the color a striking contrast against your deep brown skin, making you look like a jewel amidst the crowd. The gown featured a plunging neckline and a thigh-high slit, adding a hint of allure while maintaining an air of sophistication. The rich green fabric caught the light with every step you took, highlighting the gown’s luxurious texture and making you the center of attention. You stood out so brilliantly that you attracted the gaze of every man in the room.

Most men would scowl at the idea of other men admiring their girlfriend, but their attention didn’t spark jealousy in Lewis. Instead, he admired each detail of your ensemble, knowing that every element was tailored to suit his taste. His eyes were drawn to the plunging neckline of your gown, where a delicate necklace nestled against your skin. The necklace, a gift from him, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship: a simple yet elegant silver chain adorned with a single, brilliant diamond pendant. It shimmered subtly, catching the light with every movement you made. Lewis couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride, seeing how the necklace complemented your beauty and how, despite the undercover nature of your relationship, every detail was a reflection of his admiration and love for you.

Tonight, his hello came in the form of his touch, his fingers brushing against yours with a gentle, intimate caress as he removed the empty champagne flute from your hand. You felt a shiver of warmth at his touch, a familiar sensation that sent a flutter through you. He replaced the flute with a glass of wine, his right hand settling possessively on your hip for the briefest of moments. His touch reassuring, grounding, as his thumb dragged along the fabric of your gown resting against the small of your back.

“Stunning as always, Ms. Y/L/N,” he notes, his touch tracing the curve of your hip. Lewis leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he adds, “I was hoping we can find a more private place to talk later.”

You sipped your wine, the cool liquid a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch. With a cheeky smile, you responded, “You expect the man of the hour to disappear unnoticed?”

He nodded towards the bartender, signaling for a refill of his whiskey. As he turned back to you, his eyes held a playful glint. “You’d be surprised what I can do, love,” he said with a grin, his touch leaving a sudden chill as he withdrew his hand. His gaze swept the room, taking in the crowd with a calculated look, as if considering the best way to make his escape without drawing too much attention.

Accepting his glass, Lewis took a leisurely sip, savoring the rich taste of his whiskey. His gaze returned to you, and he shamelessly took in every detail of your appearance. His eyes roamed over the elegant curve of your neckline, the way the gown accentuated your figure, the length of your thigh, down to your ankle. Retracing each feature, the corner of his mouth turning up as his gaze traced the curve of your lips.

Despite the warmth and familiarity of his gaze, you felt a twinge of nervousness. Each time his eyes meet yours, they seemed to pierce through the layers of confidence you typically exude. The intensity of his admiration, though flattering, made your heart race slightly. His gaze lingered with an intensity that was both flattering and unnerving, causing a delicate warmth to creep across your cheeks. The heat spreading from your head to your toes, causing you to find relief in the wine you held. Despite your surroundings, and the respectable distance between your bodies, you could feel the weight of his attention, the way it made you acutely aware of every movement and every expression, as if Lewis could read your thoughts with just a look. It was something you haven't gotten used to and probably never will.

The way his eyes had a way of making you feel like the center of his universe, which was both exhilarating and a little unsettling.

You cleared your throat, shifting your gaze to his emptying glass. “Congratulations on your Grand Prix, Lewis. Looking to unwind tonight?”

“In more ways than one,” he replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Don’t worry, I’m not behind the wheel tonight.”

You giggled, your eyes meeting his with a playful challenge. “Looks like you’re trying to get into trouble.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Promise, I’ll save the best kind for you.” He winked, a hint of mischief dancing in his gaze. As he turned back to signal the bartender for his refill, his hand lingered on your hip, creating a warm, comforting pressure. Once his drink arrived, he met your gaze. "As always, the pleasure is mine, Ms. Y/L/N," he smiled before returning to his guests.

And believe me, it was.

Tonight, his eyes admired the chestnut lipstick, noting the contrast of its rich hue against the soft, full curve of your lips. His gaze drawn to the way your teeth gently dug into the tender flesh, a gesture of both contemplation and restraint. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, the touch light yet insistent, encouraged you to release the bite and reveal the full, seductive shade of your lipstick. You had spent time perfecting your makeup, after all, and he intended to appreciate every detail.

Tonight, he spoke praise into the warmth of your ear, his voice softening as his lips and tongue traced the delicate curve of your neck. His gruff tone melted into a whisper, and he pressed gentle kisses to your pulse, each touch sent shivers down your spine. The contrast of his rugged voice with the tenderness of his actions creates a captivating intimacy, as if he’s recommitting and savoring each inch of you to memory.

Tonight, his calloused hands traced the curves of your hips, admiring the gentle dips and contours as he gripped and kneaded the soft flesh beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingertips dragged and lingered, moving slowly towards your thighs, igniting a thrilling heat with each deliberate touch. His senses were flooded with your scent, a heady mix of perfume and warmth that fueled him with a high he could only ever capture on the track. The intensity of the moment, the closeness of your bodies, and the undeniable chemistry between you all combine to create a rush unlike any other, driving him to lose himself in the sensation.

It was the feeling of pleasure he felt with you, that was unmatched by any woman before, which fueled the movements of his fingers as they slipped between your legs. The strokes of his thumbs meticulously hitched your breath, fluttering your eyes closed. The heat of his mouth, sucked against your chest, your neck, the weight of his body pressed you against the chilled bathroom door. The pressure he built weakened your knees, your fingers clinging to his shoulders as you struggled to breathe.

"Lew…"

His brow arched, his teeth catching the overhead vanity light in a brief flash of white. "Hmm?"

Your lips parted, but your voice was caged beneath the shaky breath his touch pulled out of you. The tremor in your chest revealing the effect he had on you, making it difficult to form coherent words. His touch, both electrifying and tender, left you breathless and yearning for more.

You should've tried harder, fought against the voice in your head screaming for you to push him for more. More than just kisses and the warmth of his fingers. The voice urged you to regain control of your limbs, unbuckle his pants, and feel the part of him you'd missed the most--but you couldn't.

All you could think of is how much you've missed this—how every touch, every whisper felt like it had been too long in coming.

"It's been too long," he murmured, completing your thought as if reading your mind. His left hand rested on the base of your throat, the metal of his rings cool against your overheated flesh. His thumb pressed gently against your chin, tilting your face upwards, compelling you to meet his gaze. His touch was both commanding and reassuring, reminding you of the depth of your connection and the longing that has only grown in the time apart. "You missed me?"

Your response fell short of what he wants. The soft nod of your head, before it lulled back to rest against the door was not what he wants. He wanted to hear the tremble in your voice, the shift in octaves, that replayed on a loop in his mind when he tried to recreate the warmth of your touch in his bed alone. He wanted to see the clouded mixture of lust and pleading in your eyes as your hooded gaze holds his, but your eyes are gripped shut denying him what he wanted.

Instead, you responded by gripping his wrist, keeping him in place as he attempted to slow his pace. Your hips rolled desperately, attempting to matching the circles he drew against your skin. 

His chuckle washed over you. His lips warm against the corner of your mouth. Despite your attempt of control, he easily regained it. His touch drifting from your clit, dragging painstakingly slow along the outside of your folds.

"Seems you've forgotten a few things. Hm?"

His touch is meticulous, never brushing against the spot you need, leaving you yearning for more. He kissed your lips slowly, the tenderness of the gesture both soothing and electrifying. Sucking against your bottom lip, he repeated the action as your hips instinctively jerked seeking the high slowly threatening to slip away.

With a soft, commanding tone, he told you, “Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

As you obey and lift your hooded lids, his smile widened with a mix of satisfaction and adoration. It’s a smile that starts in his eyes, which crinkled slightly at the corners, and spread to his lips, revealing a hint of his teeth. The smile is warm and genuine, a reflection of the affection and pride he feels as he takes in the sight of you. The pride he feels in knowing that no other man had the same effect on you. There’s a touch of playfulness in his expression, as his tongue passed over his lips.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs softly, his touch returning to your clit.

The content giggle that escaped your lips, melted into a breathless moan coaxing his finger between your slick folds. It was a sound he'd chase until the end of time. Once it was unlocked, he knew soon the sound of his name on your lips would follow.

"...that's what I've missed," Lewis hummed.

[the-fiction-witch]

Cold?

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Cregan Stark Couple - Cregan X Reader Reader - Y/n (Southern Wife) Rating - 17 (Nudity) Word Count - 1004

As I slowly stirred beneath the weighty furs. I rubbed the sleep from my heavy-lidded eyes and, with a gentle but firm movement, pushed Cregan's warm hand away from my waist. The chill of the morning air prickled against my skin as I slipped out from beneath the covers. I wrapped my fur robe tightly around my naked body, its softness a small solace against the biting cold.

With a quick, cautious motion, I lifted my feet from the woven rug, making a light leap onto the unforgiving stone floor. The chill of the stones sent a shiver racing up my spine, prompting me to hunch over the flickering flames of the hearth. I rubbed my arms briskly, seeking warmth as I felt the cool air swirl around me.

As I settled before the crackling fire, my gaze drifted to the window, where delicate snowflakes danced through the air, their gentle descent a mesmerizing sight. Each flake was a delicate crystal, glistening in the early light, making the outside world into a serene winter wonderland.

Taking a deep breath to gather my courage, I steeled myself for the chill beyond the warmth of the hearth. With resolve, I made my way to the wardrobe.

I began by taking out a cosy pair of grey woollen stockings, their surface soft and slightly textured. Carefully, I pulled them up my legs until they reached mid-thigh, the fabric hugging my skin snugly. I repeated this ritual two more times, wrapping my legs in layers of warmth. Next, I chose a tunic-style shirt, its long, fitted sleeves tapering neatly at my wrists. I tossed it over my head, ensuring it lay smoothly against my torso, the fabric draping elegantly.

Following that, I reached for a sturdy pair of thick hide britches, remnants of a time when they belonged to Cregan. With a few snips and adjustments, I had tailored them to fit my frame, accommodating the additional layers of stockings underneath. I tucked the hem of my tunic into the waistband before lacing the britches tight, securing everything in place and creating a comfortable, yet form-fitting silhouette.

But still, my body shivered, my toes felt numb, my nipples poking from my clothes.

I let out a weary sigh as I reached for my knee-high, fur-lined boots, their soft, plush interiors promising warmth in the cold air. Carefully, I pulled them on, feeling the snug fit envelop my legs. With practised fingers, I laced them tightly, ensuring there was no gap for the icy snow to slip in between the boots and my thick woollen britches.

Next, I turned to my usual thick grey slip, its heavy fabric providing a comforting weight as I draped it over my body. The slip fluttered gently to my ankles, enveloping me in its warmth and protection against the frigid air. Searching through my collection of garments, I chose a tunic shirt made of sturdy material, one that boasted a high neckline reaching all the way to my throat. It was designed to shield every inch of bare skin, creating a barrier against the chilling elements outside. As I gathered the fabric around me, I felt a sense of preparedness for whatever the day might bring.

But my teeth still chattered and my body shivered,

I carefully slipped into my corset, tightening the laces with a firm tug. The structure of it cinched my waist, moulding my torso into an hourglass shape. Next, I reached for my thickest, most voluminous petticoats. One by one, I layered six floor-length skirts around my waist, each petticoat adding a cascading fullness to my silhouette. The layers rustled softly as they settled, creating an elegant sway with my every movement.

Finally, I adorned myself with my large deep grey dress, the fabric rich and textured. It was lined with luxurious fur at every hem. As I pulled the dress over my petticoats, it enveloped me, fitting snugly around my figure and enveloping my hands in its wide, flowing sleeves.

I exhaled slowly, the tension easing from my shoulders as I finally felt at ease enough to gather my hair into a traditional northern-style braid. The soft strands slipped through my fingers with a comforting familiarity, but just as I began to focus on the intricate weaving, a voice cut through the quiet of the morning.

Cregan had awakened during the time I spent preparing myself. He propped himself up against the pillows, the furs draped loosely around his waist. As he ran a hand through his tousled hair, I could see the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. It was clear he had been observing me all along, and when he spoke, his tone held a teasing laughter that sent a playful shiver down my spine. “Cold?”

I scoffed, “V-very funny.”

He laughed as he climbed from the bed, leaving the furs and sheets to pool on the mattress, his naked body completely exposed without so much as a shiver, as he confidently walked across the bed chamber and took my face in his hands. “My sweet southern girl,” he leant down and softly kissed my lips,

I smiled into the kiss resting my cold hands against his warm bare chest until he pulled back,

“You will grow used to the northern winters. In time.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he reassured kissing my forehead, as he went to dress himself.

“And if I don’t?” I asked with fear,

He scoffed, “Then I will have warmer clothes made for you.”

“You are too kind to me Cregan.” I blushed trying to hide my red cheeks,

But he took my chin in hand and turned it to him only dressed into his britches, “I must, to repay my wife for being so perfect to me.” He cooed but sighed.

“What is it?”

“So many layers… I hardly can gather the strength to remove them all and take you back to bed.” He sighed,

“A shame.” I laughed,

“I said, Hardly. I still can.” He smirked, grabbed my waist, swiftly lifted me from the floor, and tossed my body on the bed.

[legendaryvermin]

So my home ttrpg group is between longform games right now, and I have been planning to bring a bunch of games to them this weekend as options for what we might play next. However, I have been trying to figure out how to talk about the games in a way that doesn't rely as much on me explaining the vibes to them.

I know that people have a bunch of qualitative categories for how they explain games, but I find the idea of saying things like Dark Fantasy OSR, or Lesbian Goofball PBTA less helpful when talking about how games actually play, especially when two games in the same category are like, wildly different in the way they use their frameworks.

So I invented a 6 axis, 1 to 5 star rating scale for TTRPGs that you are free to borrow when talking to groups, or whatever.

TTRPG 5 Star Rating Matrix

Width

What is the scope of this game? Is it narrowly about one thing or does it encompass many types of play? (Credit to friend of the blog @ostermad-blog for this one, they came up with it from my draft)

Weight

How much cognitive load does the player need to bear? Do rules often need to be referenced verbatim? Can those rules fit on a handout?

Wargame

Is the player expected to apply tactical acumen? Is movement tracked tightly or loosely? Does a bad build punish a player?

Writers Room

How much are players expected to make narrative choices and drive the story without the rules scaffolding them? Does this game fall apart without excellent improvisational storytellers?

(Prep)Work

Does this game require a lot of pre-planning by the facilitator? Are there intricate systems to attend to outside of table play? Can I put in the same amount of time as other players and still have everyone leave happy? 

Whimsy

Expected tone of the game. Does this game have difficult thematic elements baked in? Is the core subject or role in the game high or low risk?

Here are some games I know well and how I calibrated them:

I have breakdowns of what each star rating means below the cut if you're curious. Happy Gaming!

Width

⭐ - As written, the game has basically one mode of play, or one thematic core that it meditates on. May have phases, but textural difference is minimal.

⭐⭐ - As written, there are at least two modes of play, but the scope of that play is highly thematically focused or highly dependent on using the game’s own lore. Might have only one kind of character (e.g. Mech Pilot) that it supports. Has limited tools outside of the primary mode of play.

⭐⭐⭐ - Has a variety of modes of play, but may be rigid in their execution. Might encompass multiple kinds of characters (e.g. Doctor, Lawyer, fighter) or character options. The narratives that this game tells within its setting are narrowed, a three word description tells you what kind of stories it can tell with consistency.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Loose framework, but with some kind of thematic grounding. Describing the framework in 3 words doesn’t tell you the kind of stories that the game tells (e.g. Dark Fantasy, Star Wars Romp). 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- As written, this game is designed in such a way that it doesn’t put specific limits on what sorts of stories that it is meant to tell. It might ask players to define abilities or stats for themselves. The Facilitator is going to pitch a thematic grounding on top of the rules set.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Dialect, Honey Heist Five Star Examples: Fate Core, Savage Worlds, GURPS

Weight

⭐ - It is reasonable for a player to be able to recite the rules from memory. The game may be prompt based, or driven by a flow of rules that are read aloud as played.

⭐⭐ - Players can hold most of the most important information about the game in their heads, with a page or less of rules reference needed to play smoothly. This reference could all fit neatly on the character sheet if one is present.

⭐⭐⭐ - Everything a player needs to know about the game is visible on less than 3 sheets of reference. Players are more or less expected to know exactly how their own abilities work in precise detail, and are unlikely to make a mistake in executing them.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Players make extensive use of multiple reference sheets to keep rules moving smoothly. No external tools are needed, but players memorizing the details of all of their abilities is taxing. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- Players and facilitators will prefer to make extensive use of external tools or reference to keep play moving smoothly. Expecting a player to have the exact details of their abilities memorized is not reasonable.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Stewpot, Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands Five Star Examples: Dungeons and Dragons 3-5e, Lancer, Edge of the Empire

Wargame

⭐ - As written, this game does not treat combat as mechanically different from any other aspect of play, or does not include narrative violence at all.

⭐⭐ - While players may engage in combat, it is minimally different from regular play. There may be tools or abilities for players to use to conduct a fight, but the texture of those fights is thematic, not mechanical. Narrative and consequence drive the action, not hit points.

⭐⭐⭐ - As written, combat has its own set of rules. This game may have some elements of buildcrafting, but either it is difficult to build something that doesn’t work, or the player may meaningfully invest in other modes of play and still find a commensurate level of satisfaction. If combat occurs, spacing is kept in mind, but is tracked in relative terms (range bands) or highly simplified (zone based combat).

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This game has buildcrafting that is somewhat mandatory if players wish to survive a fight, but there is still a meaningful choice in choosing a non-combat role. It may use a grid or a spacing system to help players visualize the combat. Fights are driven by mechanics, not by narrative.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- To enjoy this game, players must spend time buildcrafting. If a player’s build is suboptimal, there may be significant parts of the intended experience that will either feel tedious, or that the player will not have meaningful access to. This game is played on a grid.

One Star Examples: Wanderhome, Dialect, Belonging Outside Belonging Five Star Examples: Lancer, Dungeons and Dragons 3-5e, Valor

Writers Room

⭐ - Players in this game are not expected to provide much in the way of narrative substance. Story is something that is driven by external input or tools, and players are there to imagine and react. The player need not separate the self from the character they play in any meaningful way.

⭐⭐ - The mechanics of this game drive most of the narrative, or else the narrative is set for the players by an external source or player. Players are encouraged to play optimally rather than dramatically, but do have room for expressing the identity of their character within the game’s mechanical frameworks.

⭐⭐⭐ - While the game does provide strong scaffolding to tell a story, the players present are expected to drive the story within those frameworks. The game’s systems create and resolve conflict on their own, but works best when the players are willing to choose the dramatically interesting option even if it mechanically non-optimal.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - The game provides some mechanical tools that create and resolve drama, but there is a significant expectation that the players are buying into and driving the game’s thematic concepts. Players are the ones deciding what the scenes should be and when to end them, but mechanics still help determine outcomes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- The players are expected to drive the narrative at all times. Tools for deciding what scenes to do and when to end them are limited, optional, or vague. There is no meaningful scaffolding that creates conflict or resolution, it is incumbent on those present to manifest those things.

One Star Examples: Alice is Missing, Ribbon Drive, For the Queen Five Star Examples: Wanderhome, Systemless RP

(Prep)Work

⭐ - Facilitators are not expected to do work outside the time at the table. All rules can be read while the game is played. No memorization is needed.

⭐⭐ - This game expects the facilitator to have read the rules in advance, but the rules are so few that they can be run from a single reference sheet. At times, the facilitator must think about and potentially advance and adjust the narrative of the game behind the scenes. Prep is qualitative; answering questions about where the narrative is going to go, who will be there etc. The game can be run smoothly predominantly as improv.

⭐⭐⭐ - This game expects the facilitator to not only know the rules, but to imagine scenarios where the group must play. However, the scope of the scenario design is limited and qualitative. It takes a bit of pondering and perhaps a sketch and a few words of notes. Alternatively, the facilitator must design simple foes or track a simple background system. The work is trivial, and can be done with a bit of time before session.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - The facilitator of this game is expected to have run systems between games, or created usable maps or scenarios. Generally, games at this level have some reduced wargaming component. The facilitator might need to engage in enemy design, but the work is limited or imminently reusable. The work is non-trivial, and failing to do it will somewhat impact the quality of play.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- The facilitator of this game puts in significant time between sessions engaging in game design activities. They are expected to plan narratives, write NPCs, draw maps, run significant background systems, and design enemies and combat encounters. The work is significant outside of play, and failing to do it beforehand will result in a worse table experience.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Alley-Oop, Lasers and Feelings Five Star Examples: Lancer, D&D 3-5e, Stars Without Number, Edge of the Empire

Whimsy

⭐ - This game’s thematic core is considered dark, taboo, or difficult, and separating the game’s mechanical features from this subject matter is next to impossible. Games with horror elements almost certainly fit within this category. These games encourage extensive pre-play safety talks.

⭐⭐ - This game is designed to look at dark subject matter, but doesn’t expect the player to spend all of their time there. Players explore difficult topics, but may get to choose what topics to explore, or when to explore them. Games with political messaging/commentary tend to fit this category. These games encourage pre-play safety talks.

⭐⭐⭐ - This game may have dark aesthetics, but doesn’t enforce them mechanically. Alternatively, there are mechanics that address difficult topics in broad strokes, but players are given leeway in the rules with how any difficult topics are approached. These games may encourage safety talks. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This game may have the option to explore dark topics, but none of the mechanics are tied to such topics. This game may have violence in its aesthetics, but players may choose to adjust the aesthetics at the table to suit their comfort. These games tend not to talk about safety in their text.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- This game is designed to focus on thematic material that is considered to be relatively safe. The game is unlikely to tread into violence or trauma without effort.

One Star Examples: Trophy Dark, Dungeon Bitches, Vampire the Masquerade Five Star Examples: Honey Heist, Princess World, Beach Episode

The system here isn't about what's good or bad, to be clear. I think there are good and bad games at every level of these categories, but when I think about what my game group is good at and comfy with, I don't think we go in for things at like the 5 end of the Writers Room scale. It's too much work, and most of them aren't pro improvisers.

Similarly, if we play another game that is a 4 or 5 on the PrepWork category, I don't have time to run it these days. So this helps me make practical choices about our next game.