#and the amethysts were chill

[incdrop]

well, season 4 happened. how does so much happen in a season, and yet so little? most of it feels like off-model filler? is that an exaggeration?

[gtgbabie0]

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon takes pleasure in his cups… and in between your thighs although it’s all the same to him}

!!-18//MDNI-!! I was listening to Amy Whinehouse whilst writing this, enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The hour of the bat was well and truly upon Kings Landing, the crescent moon resting against the abyss of the night sky as it casts down a silvery hue that bleeds throughout the Red Keep. With the absence of the sun, you found peace, resting on the velvety divan with a book in hand.

You were lost within the chapters as Aegon paces the length of your bedchambers before collapsing next to you on the divan, leaning up against cushions with a heavy sigh.

“They all belittle me… they all take me for a fool.” He huffs, pointing over to the door of your chambers, still complaining about today’s council meeting with a deep frown. You had already said your piece yet it seems Aegon was not done venting to you.

He looks up to you, opening his mouth to complain about how you ‘need to pay attention to him and not the book’ however the words fall short, dissolving on the tip of his tongue as he stares at you completely star-stuck.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, the sight of you and the slightly sheer fabric of your nightslip that veils your body, how the fireplace bathes you in a warm orangey light, you had a beauty that captivated him wholly.

“Fuck them… fuck, all of them.” He declares suddenly, although deep down he doesn’t mean the words, not really, you can tell by the way his amethyst eyes flicker with hesitation, glancing down at his fidgeting hands.

“Aegon—” you start, but your words are quickly cut off by him, his rough palm resting against your cheek.

His gaze meets your own, shuffling closer to you, his lips curling downwards in a nonchalant manner. “No, I don’t need any of them, just you.” His words are hushed, only meant for your ears.

With a sigh your eyes soften in an understanding, for you know his only desire is to be admired or at the very least just simply liked. You close your book, leaning over him to place it on the wooden table.

“And you have me, no matter what the future holds.” You reaffirm his words, watching him closely as he lets out a shaky sigh which he tries his best to conceal.

There was an instability in Aegon’s life, save for you, his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions. Perhaps that is why he clings to you the way he does, arms wrapped tightly around your soft waist with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I am not as malleable as they think… I will win, I will burn down anyone who goes against me.” He whispers against the curve of your jaw, confidence weighing against his tone. His hand slips in between the gap of your nightslip to caress your bare waist down to your hip, the cool metal of his wedding band sends a chill down your spine.

He needed a distraction, the pressure from the heavy crown he never asked for was too much for him to endure alone. He needed to not feel like such a disappointment for even just a small moment.

He kisses the small spot behind your ear, an invitation, to which your head instinctively tilts to the side, enticing him to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His lips linger against your pulse point with a small grin, the sound of your pleasured sigh hitting his ears.

“Of course, I do not doubt you, you know that.” You whisper through a shaky voice, steeped in desire. Your body jolts, a soft gasp, at the feeling of his teeth nipping the sensitive skin on your throat before kissing the spot once then twice.

He hums in acknowledgement, pulling back to admire you. His palm still cupping your cheek with a certain hint of possessiveness, it shows in the way he thumbs at your bottom lip. “Hmm, you might be the only one who does, my pretty wife.” He whispers, all of his worries and troubles slowly ebbing away.

The atmosphere around the pair of you suddenly changes, the air becoming so thick that you’re sure it could snuff out the candles around you.

“Yours… all yours Aegon.” The words come out in one breath, tumbling past your parted lips as his fingertips graze along your lower abdomen, slipping through the coarse hair on your mound before dipping past your slick folds.

The rough pads of his finger slides along your slit to collect your wetness before finding your clit, rubbing slow circles against the sensitive bud, testing the waters, as you melt into the divan. Aegon chuckles against your shoulder, enjoying the way your thighs spread and your hips writhe with desperation for more.

He sinks down onto the floor, kneeling between your thighs, ready to pray at the altar of your body. He immediately pushes the silk fabric of your nightdress up past your thighs, letting it pool around your hips.

“I’ve been deprived of you for weeks…” he mutters, leaving marks against your hip-bones, sucking at the sensitive skin, before soothing them with a gentle kiss or two.

You watch his lilac eyes go dark with a carnal craving, the way his hands greedily feel up your thighs, squeezing the supple fat harshly, it all only elicits more gasps and moans from you.

He coos against the inside of your thigh, nudging one leg over his shoulder and propping the other up on the divan to spread out in front of him, the sight of your soaked cunt going straight to his hardening cock. “I’ll be gentle… so gentle.” He smirks, a lie, lips trailing over your inner thighs with all tongue and teeth as your hips buck upwards in anticipation.

He tuts, fingers digging into your hips to keep you still. All too suddenly he’s tugging you closer to him roughly, making you slouch against the cushions of the divan with a shocked gasp.

Your fingers bury within his white choppy hair, pulling him closer to your aching heat as his tongue trails along your cunt, flicking against your clit with a groan. He smirks into your soaked folds, the sound of your whiny moans, the way his name falls from your parted lips in a hunger only he could satisfy, it all makes his skin burn.

“Keep moaning… let me hear you.” He encourages, words muffled against your slickness, lips pressed to your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive bud trying to elicit more sweet noises from your lips as he hums in delight.

A broken moan escapes you, your hips grinding upwards in tandem with his lips and tongue. “Oh, Aegon… more please.” You cry out, a woman possessed by pleasure.

It is the same possession that causes you to arch your back up from the divan to try and get closer to him. His fingers squeezing into your hips, a warning, his tongue lapping up your desire before teasing your entrance, practically drinking from you as if you were a chalice of Arbor Red.

Aegon flattens his tongue against your cunt, licking up to your clit once more with a muffled moan, sucking on it with delight. “Tastes so sweet…” The vibrations from his words only serve to add to the searing heat that begins to pool deep within your lower abdomen, leaving you a panting mess.

“Aegon, don’t stop… I’m so close.” your hands pull helplessly at his hair, drawing him impossibly closer. He chuckles at your wanton need, how you shamelessly grind yourself against his mouth without a care in the world.

He pushes his fingers inside of you with ease, humming in pleasure at the way your heat sucks in his digits. Aegon fucks you with them you at a tantalising pace whilst licking at your sensitive bud. You look down at him, your mouth agape, watching his head move against you so eagerly as you teeter along the line of release.

“Gods— Aegon!” You cry out his name with a broken moan, your slick walls clamping around his fingers as he continues to curl them deep inside you, still kissing greedily at your clit. He mumbles sweet, loving words of encouragement as he drinks up your orgasm. The wet sounds fill the silence of your bedchambers as you come down from your high with shaky breaths that come out in puffs.

He looks up at you with a cocky smirk, pride blooming through his chest, his lips and chin slick with your release. He pushes himself back onto the divan, leaning over you. “You are truly all I need, all I want.” He whispers feverishly, his fingers wrapping around your jaw to bring your lips to his own.

The taste of you against his lips is all you need to deepen the messy kiss, both of you melting into each other's warmth in a mixture of lust and love. He would take this as long as he could, until you were completely satiated. And even then, he would push for more. He was addicted to you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊

[cregansdingdong]

ɢᴜᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ.

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Wife!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: he does get snappy for a second so very slight angst, his boo thang doesn't tolerate that so don't worry, period-typical misogyny, gets a tiny bit suggestive at the end but nothing crazy hes eating her coochie out off camera; lovers spat but he can't resist her this is so Honeymoon by lana del ray also love and war by Fleurie

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Aemond was not a man of many words. His wife knew that upon their marriage. She knew he had a fortress around his heart and his mind in order to better protect himself, and it wasn’t something she took complete offense to—there was no point in taking it personally; the walls would not come down because they took vows in front of the High Septon. Day by day, she would have to chip at him, speck by speck, brick by brick, until all that was left…well, she had yet to figure that part out. But still, she persevered. Their nuptials were built on a political agreement in the night—like everything else among the highborns—her father brutally negotiating his terms to bend the knee to King Aegon. She remembered what it felt like being stirred out of her sleep by her handmaiden, dressing in the dark to make an appearance for their princely guest. There had been little explanation at the moment, and even her sisters hadn’t a clue.

Until they saw him. One-eyed and formidable; standing there, the silver-haired Targaryen Prince didn’t need to do much to strike fear in the hearts of Borros Baratheon’s five daughters. Lined up like prized cattle, they waited for him to take his pick. She thought he’d pick Cassandra—the son they’d create together would most likely be the heir of the Stormlands. That was the smart choice. Instead, as she stared ahead humiliatingly, a gaze of amethyst locked onto the slope of her shoulder, trailing the silhouette of where her jaw met her neck. Her throat. It was predatory, almost, the way he inspected her. A viper choosing the most appetizing little mammal it could find. Then he approached her, somehow even taller than he seemed—he stood close enough that she could feel the heat of him emanating into her chilled skin, his even breath fanning lightly against her cheek. “This one.”

The words were so final. There was no arguing, no further negotiations to be made. He’d chosen her. That was all. A year passed, and it was a long one. His betrothed did her best to ignore the whispers of the men of her father’s court. One-eyed Kinslayer, they’d say, the youngest is his bride. He’ll come to claim her soon. The day did arrive when the Targaryen prince returned on dragonback to collect what he was entitled to. There had only been the bare warning of a raven just a day before, leaving her enough time to decide what she wanted to take to King’s Landing and send her trunks ahead. Vhagar arrived after dawn, her rider as stoic and unyielding as he’d been the last time they met. Saying goodbye to her sisters was difficult, but she managed, remembering the very firm prompt Lord Baratheon had given her about crying in front of the prince. And she didn’t, despite the indignation that came with being sold like a broodmare. Her entire life she’d known her birth would only be useful as a bridge between Houses—but being a bride of war felt shameful, vile, and held no pleasantries.

Meeting the dragon churned her stomach terribly. Other than a few of the quiet shushes in High Valyrian, Aemond hadn’t said much during the exchange. The ancient beasts hadn’t cared to eat her, thankfully. The first hurdle was over with. She rode on the back of Vhagar that morning—which was somehow more terrifying than it sounded…and a tad humiliating for how long it took her to actually climb to the mount. She’d expected him to rush her, to make a comment, but he remained silent and unusually patient. The journey itself felt longer than it was, her fists clenched around the hem of his doublet, but it was over soon enough. They’d married within the week, barely having said a word to each other. Every day after that was a power struggle. Aemond must’ve thought she’d be meek, or perhaps quiet, but he’d been either sorely mistaken or genuinely misled. But the deed was done, the marriage consummated thoroughly. He made his bed and he had to lie in it. Whatever the case was, their shared chambers—his idea—worked dually as a bedroom and a battlefield. While she was successful at times in penetrating his armor, the circumstances did not change even after half a year of marriage.

“What is wrong now?” She hummed, watching him stare down into the flames of the lit hearth, hands pensively behind his back. She knew his habits like they were imprinted in her skin. He only stood like that when something was bothering him. Her embroidery was paused in her lap as she waited. Aemond turned his head slightly, his eye flicking over to her. He said nothing for a few more moments, as if he was debating entertaining such a question at all. Sometimes he liked when she pushed at him. She wasn’t sure if this was that sort of evening. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, wife.” There wasn’t as much bite to his words as she expected there would be, but if he wanted to start, she would finish. “I would like to concern myself, thank you, lest you go blind staring into the fire before our anniversary. What has you in such a foul mood, husband?”  She puts her craft down on the table, staring at him impatiently. He stiffened at her words, and she knew then that she struck a nerve. It seems to work though. Aemond’s features harden, the slightest bit of the real him seeping through his endless stoicism. “Small Council.” Was all he said. She gets the gist of it. “I see. Would you like to share anything else?”

“No.”

Something about the blatant rejection thrilled her. She was no fool as to what probably happened—the King was drunk, angry, or plainly at odds with whatever it was that her husband and the rest were trying to suggest to him. She’d heard from the Dowager Queen they had begun talks of making a match for young Jahaera. Aemond was a hard man to read, but he wasn’t completely indecipherable. “I’m going to offer you my council then.” She doesn’t wait for him to respond, legs uncrossing upon her standing. He doesn’t move as she strides toward the fireplace, as unyielding as she’d been the moment she entered the sept and became his wife. “His Grace, the King, is courageous and inspiring. He’s a man of the finest breeding and a formidable, yet merciful, attentive ruler–”

“If you’re going to give council that I did not ask for, at least speak plainly.” He grumbles, irritation emitting from his poreless face. “In this room, it is only you and I, and neither of us wish to lie. I care not to hear compliments of my brother fall from the lips of my wife.” She considers her words for a few moments. “Alright. The King is a drunk who lives in his own world—but he is still the King, and that means the ideas of his advisors can be very easily dismissed by a mere word if he so wishes. Attempting to speak sense into him, or to convince him, will never work when he has such power.” 

“If you’re suggesting I play into his drunk delusions, I will not.” He scoffs, eye narrowed in reproach. She tries not to get angry right away. “That is not what I’m suggesting. Before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to say that your best chance is convincing the second highest person in the realm. The Queen.”

“This is a matter between men. Helaena is just as much in her own deluded world as he is—worse, even. She is dreaming her life away. Speaking to her is not unlike catching a cloud, wife.” Aemond says, walls coming back up to ignore her again. His coldness returns in an instant. “Your council has proven useless as I knew it would be. You should return to your embroidery.” And now she was angry. “We’re the perfect pair then, aren’t we, my prince? You dismiss me as Aegon dismisses you.” Her words came out like a challenge, daring him perhaps to actually consider what it was she was trying to say. He reacts accordingly. A long, slender hand wraps itself around her arm in an inflexible grip, yanking her to him seemingly to remind her of their roles. It didn’t hurt. The words were gritted from between his teeth. “What did you say to me, wife?”

“You heard me. Your unwillingness to accept another perspective of how to get what you want will be your downfall. And to think I was almost about to offer to speak to Helaena on your behalf. Perhaps she is a cloud to you, husband, but she’s quite tangible if you treat her like a human being.” She huffs. Aemond pauses at that, in thought as his hand loosens ever so slightly. “I should bend you over my knee for speaking to me that way—you’re lucky I’m not in the mood for it. Talk to Helaena then. Tell her Aegon is behaving like a stubborn fool and convince her that the Lannisters are the strongest choice for Jahaera if she cannot produce another male heir—I’m not asking.” His gaze stared down into her face, imploring her to refuse and see what was going to happen.

“Is my husband demanding my help?” She grins, something absolutely infuriating to him. Help. He loathed that word. “You said it yourself. You’re not asking. My idea must truly be valuable to you—my bond with Helaena even more so. I thought it was a matter between men?” The taunt in her voice was exhaled against every nerve in his body urging him to act. To show her how maddening she was. To fuck the teasing out of her right there beside the fireplace. He was itching to have her do as he wished, and to do with her as he wanted. “You’re testing my patience.” He warns, something uncompromising burning behind his eyes. So different, and yet exactly the same. His wife leaned in closer, undeterred. “If you’re not willing to say please verbally, husband, you can do it another way. Or, of course, you can hurry along to the next council meeting if you’re so eager to be at Aegon’s mercy. What will it be?”

“Another way?” He murmured, eyes locked down at the juncture of her throat. “Hmm. It seems we’ve come to an understanding, wife. Lift your skirts.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[sakkiichi]

HERE COMES THE SUN.

They comfort you while you’re having a difficult time.

ft. Childe, Lyney, Albedo, Shikanoin Heizou x gn! reader.

cw/genre: hurt/comfort.

for my dear @https-furina I know you’ve been going through trying times lately, so I hope this can comfort you a little <3 I also struggled a lot with Heizou’s part, so I apologize if it’s no good at all…

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Linen sheets feel like ropes on raw skin against the morning chill.

Its warm cream color, ashen, nothing like the mirror sunrises you were used to witnessing right after you opened your eyes.

What’s the point in opening them anymore? You wonder.

You bury your face against the pillows. In any other occasion, you would have been grateful for the coolness of its silk.

Now it’s just an iceberg. Like a missing shard of your shallow beating heart.

“Someone’s sleepy today.” A familiarly perky voice greets, the mattress dipping slightly with new weight.

You rolling in the other direction is all the greeting that meets him.

“Hey, love! It’s time to wake up!” Childe chuckles, his hand gently shaking your body.

Yet something already tells him this is not right; you usually would have already shoved him away by now.

But today you’re just… unresponsive…

The dull oceans of his stare rise in dangerous waves at your state.

Hesitant, he calls your name, his tone more like a question.

And this time, he does get an answer.

Familiar arms he adores wrapped around him loop around his middle, your face burying against his chest.

You’re warm, yet you feel so… faraway… as if the pain of past memories was seeping out your light.

Ajax is no stranger to the despair palpable in your strong grip around him, he’s endured it himself, through years robbed of him by an abyss that turned him into a master of all weapons.

So because he’s known the cold of endless nights where all he had was a tattered red scarf to remember the warmth of a distant home, he now holds you.

And for someone whose hands were tainted in the filth and bloodshed of a lifetime of slaughter, Ajax is undeniably gentle.

His fingertips ghost over your skin, easing the burning anguish of bed covers that felt too rough, too suffocating, too wrong.

When your lover’s hands get lost in your hair, combing it, you swear sun rays filter through the deep sea you’re falling through.

And then, suddenly, the choice to swim upwards presents before you, scarred sun-kissed hands extended towards you.

You take them.

When you open your eyes, russet sunsets and constellations over your beloved’s skin greet you.

His lips find yours, a bit chapped but gentle; not his usual playfulness, but soothing aquamarine waves.

You swear Childe’s kiss tastes salty. And that’s when you realize the dry tear-tracks down your cheeks.

He made them dry, sunlight evaporating puddles after grey days.

You break the surface, the waters now turquoise beneath Ajax’s light.

He won’t let you sink again.

✧ LYNEY

A whole audience’s cheers fill the Opera Epiclese. Lights shine upon every smiling face, every vigourous clap of hands after the magician’s grand finale echoing through the theater.

However, the illusionist’s gaze of amethyst is focused on the sole grim expression amongst millions of joyous others.

Yours.

Your hands move, clapping together, as if automated; your eyes stare at everything, seeing nothing; your mouth is a taut line, your lips devoid of their usual vibrant tint.

Lyney doesn’t like that being his last memory before the curtain closes.

When you step out of the Opera House, an infinity of starfields is abloom across the crepuscular skies.

What a mockery; a cruel jinx on display, for you to see the unfulfilled sparks dimming inside your heart.

A sigh escapes your dry lips, a small cloud forming when it meets the late night chill.

“You’ll catch a cold there, mon coeur,” Someone you know, tricks and all, utters behind you.

Welcome warmth tinted in lavender envelops you the instant your eyes meet the magician’s starry ones.

A small smile tugs at your lips, the curse of melancholy still clinging to you through it.

“Lyney…” You start. The twilit breeze picks up around you, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself for some semblance of a warmth you haven’t felt in days.

“That won’t do, ma chérie.” Your lover chuckles.

Then, with a wave of his hand, a piece of the night sky itself seems to become tangible in his grasp.

“Here,” he offers, draping it over your shoulders.

Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a shawl; the cloth feels delicate to the touch, quite fine too, and yet, you feel the warmth of a thousand suns. If you had to describe its color you would come up empty. Silver glitter seems to be embedded in the fabric, but at the same time, it looks like multiple tiny lights had been stitched to the material. You suppose you’d call the hue, dark; a myriad of indigoes merge into violets, threaded together with navies and cobalts. And yet, when you move it, the colors seem to shift, almost like the clouds drifting across this midnight.

“I take it you liked it.” Lyney smiles, softer than his usual cheshire-like grins, when he observes your wonderstruck features.

“Very…” You muse, awestruck at the magical silk.

“It’s a châle de ciel,” your beloved explains, “It will change depending on the state of the sky at each time of day.” He pauses, eyes, the color of lumidouce bells and rainbow rose petals merged, glinting as he admires how the garment fits you. “But I can guarantee,” your illusionist steps closer to you, plucking something out of your hair. “That it will always keep you comfortable… warm or cool, whatever you need.” He finishes, handing you a pluie lotus.

You take a few seconds to appreciate the second gift of the night. The flower’s petals are the same color as Lyney’s eyes, yet not as vivacious.

“Shall we go, mon amour?” Your boyfriend inquires, already offering your arm to him.

Together, you leave the opera house behind.

You hope for light blues on your new cape tomorrow morning. And somehow, you know that’s what you’ll find.

You squeeze Lyney’s arm gently. The sun will rise soon.

✧ ALBEDO

When he sets foot on his camp in Dragonspine, Albedo finds the heater already on.

Strange.

The sun hasn’t even quite awoken yet, the snowy peaks outlined against skies still clinging to dreamless cloudy nights; shards of ice, embedded in the softness of dawn clouds. An accurate representation of the region of freedom’s snowy mountains: menacingly beautiful, brimming with lethal charm, for one step in the wrong direction, and the cold might as well consume you for good.

At this hour, no one was ever already working at his lab, making of these moments calm sunrise-tinted memories in the alchemist’s mind, before the day’s hustle and bustle began.

However, today, the running heater is not the only out of the ordinary salutation to greet the chalk prince.

The acute sounds of clicking vials, books being rearranged and crunching snow are confirmation enough that he is, indeed, not alone.

With silent steps, Albedo advances, keeping one hand hovering over his trusty sword. Then, he finally lays eyes upon the cause for the commotion, and despite the lack of danger, the sight doesn’t calm him any better.

“My dearest?” He calls. The instant your gaze meets his, your condition scares him more than any bandits ransacking his research material. Your hair is messy, falling on your face; dark circles are etched beneath your lower lashline, darkness clinging to you like remnants of turbulent nights; and you’re shivering, whether from the cold or because you’re distempered he can’t quite discern, although it’s most likely due to both.

“Hello, ‘Bedo…” You mutter, the flesh of your lips bitten, flecks of Dragonspine’s freeze coating them, the cold lacing with your bones, chilling you to the core. Your eyes widen when you notice your lover’s teal gaze scrutinizing you. You quickly busy yourself with classifying some potions, by color and texture, whatever takes the longest for him not to worry about your less than ideal condition.

However, perhaps you underestimated his attention to detail; for he has a skilled artist, after all.

“My love, are you feeling alright?” He questions, gloved hands gently taking the crystal vial-filled wooden box you were carrying off your trembling hold.

And in that instant, you don’t know if it’s the warmth of your prince’s hands on yours; or the comfort of his voice, like honey on bitter tea, but you find yourself taking a deep breath, the fresh air of a midwinter’s sunrise filling your lungs.

And then you talk. You spill every worry and bad dream, your shadows opening up to the gilded starlight of him.

And through it all, the alchemist’s hands warm yours, fingers interlocked, very much in the way your souls are undeniably so too.

Because no matter how daunting the river seemed when you faced it alone, when you were with Albedo, its typhoons calmed down, stone bridges and his outstretched hand painting safety and comfort in hues of gold before your eyes.

While the kreideprinz grounds you, the sun reaches its peak, a canvas of aureate and cornflower blue grazing the mountaintops.

You would be okay.

✧ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

Emerald eyes read through you as if you were made of clear glass.

The way you worry your lower lip between your teeth; your fingers almost going white at the knuckles as you clutch a pencil, its wood creaking in your grip; and the general absentminded state you’re in, papers scattered over your desk, several case files stacked in disarray.

Something is clearly weighting on your mind.

“I think a break’s in order, wouldn't you agree, sweetheart?” Heizou suggests, standing up, those striking eyes of his fixed on you.

The detective’s voice is enough to stop the quickening clock ticking in your mind, regrets and dark spirals momentarily coming to a halt.

When you rise your furrowed brow, shades of maroon and viridian flood your sight, vivid as summer and warming your up just as much.

Nodding, you stand up too, limbs feeling heavy despite the comfort of your lover beside you.

The brown shades of your office turn into blue skies and soft pink sakuras not long after, the scented tree branches swaying above you, like fragments of dreams someone had given up on, waiting to be picked up by another soul who dared to imagine.

Your back rests against your lover’s lean but strong torso, the sweet smelling breeze combing through your hair, as Heizou’s chin rests on your shoulder.

“So will you tell me what’s wrong, darling?” Are the words of his that break the birdsong-filled calm.

A pang settles on your chest, you didn’t want to take away that cheeky grin that most of the time decorated his quick-witted lips.

“I…” You hesitate. “Well, it’s- it’s complicated, Heizou…” Your lids flutter closed, a shaky breath raking through you, as you turn around in his embrace, your hands bracing on his shoulders. “I don’t want to bring the mood down, you know…”

The detective places a thumb on your lower lip, smoothing over the bite marks you left there earlier.

“You never, ever, bring the mood down, dear. Never.” He leans in, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead. “My intuition told me right away there was something up.” He takes a stray cherry blossom petal from your hair. “So, why don’t we take the rest of the day off, love?” Your partner proposes, as he takes your chin in between his fingers, mischief flashing in his features.

And perhaps your lover’s smile was more infectious than you had ever given it credit for; and maybe the way he flashes his green eyes at you has your heart trembling in ways that have nothing to do with the fear and guilt you’ve been festering, but you find yourself retorting back, with a grin of your own:

“Don’t you have cases to solve, detective Shikanoin?”

This time, he takes a full sakura flower, delicately placing it behind your ear.

“I have something more important to solve right here…” He smirks, cheekily, as he admires your now flustered expression.

When you lean the side of your head against his chest, he cradles it with one of his hands, the other playing with the ends of your hair.

It would be unfair, if gloom were to take your soul captive when spring seems to linger through Inazuma’s breeze.

With a last look at you, the detective’s maroon lashes flutter closed too. He hopes, at least for today, he managed to protect precious you from the crimes of cruel sorrow.

He leans his head on top of yours.

The case is solved.

[quitealotofsodapop]

AU idea: Wukong goes into labor with the stone egg WHILE he's fighting Macaque

Not sure which fight you mean honestly, but I assume you meant the "OG" fight back during the Journey days.

I imagine this all occurs likely in a version of the Jttw Stone Egged au where Macaque joins the gang after he found out.

Wukong and Macaque are fighting neck and neck when Macaque finally stops to listen to Wukong's shouts;

Wukong, in tears: "Macaque please! Don't make me do this! I'm with-" Macaque: "What's that weird noise??" Wukong: "Huh?" Macaque: "It sorta sounds like a... bag of water? With a heartbeat inside of- OHHHH!" Macaque: (*points at Wukong's pants*) Wukong: (*looks down and sees that his water has broken*) Both monkeys: (*start screaming!*)

Macaque drops his glamour immediately to tend to his mate.

Macaque: "I have so many questions! Who, why, and how long?!" Wukong, has Macaque's hand in a death-grip: "You, Mountain, 500 years." Macaque, mental gears turning: "Huh!?! How did- ohhh wait... self-spawning. If I had kept coming and fed you peaches you wouldn't have-" Wukong: "Yeah!" Macaque: "And since I wa- Am your mate the kid would be-" Wukong: "YEAH." Macaque, trying to lighten the mood: "Do I get visitation rights?" Wukong, voice deepening: "DON'T PUSH IT, BUD!"

Eventually the Pilgrims and Guanyin catch up (the Bodhisattva heard that water break from across the sea), and see the Six Eared Macaque has completely dropped his Monkey King glamour and is trying his best to keep the real Sun Wukong's breathing steady.

Guanyin quickly gets to work; bringing Wukong to somewhere nice and warm and dry to have the baby. They suggest that the reappearance of the other parent (i.e Macaque) caused the Egg to prematurely decide to make itself known.

Bonus if this is the first time certain Pilgrims (besides a wise dragon-dragon) heard of such a thing XD

Ao Lie, excited: "It's already happening!? Congratulations!!" Wukong: "Thanks Lie, but I'd prefer to get the kid out before you all start thanking me." Zhu Bajie, oblivious: "Wait what kid!? They heck is everyone talking about?!" Tripitaka: (*hyperventilating into his hat like it's a paper bag*) Sha Wujing: "I suppose well wishes are in order! Did Brother Wukong drink from the same river and choose to decline the cure?" Wukong: "No, it's HIS fault." (*jabs thumb at Macaque*) Macaque: (*blushing, waves nervously at his mate's Pilgrim brothers*) Ao Lie, breaking the tension: "So this is your Equal in Strength you've been telling us about!" Macaque, slight smugness: "That's what you've been calling me?" Wukong, gritting teeth from pain: "Not now Mihou..."

Macaque stays at Wukong's side the whole time, even as his instincts are going nuts, snarling at the Pilgrims if they dare approach. And even when his hand was definitely broken by Wukong's grip during a really bad contraction.

The rest of the Pilgrims meditate and pray for Wukong and the baby's health. Ao Lie makes a point of chilling in his dragon form to scare off any passing creatures or people - dragons don't like being disturbed when they're laying an egg, and he imagines its the same for Stone Monkeys.

After a lot of pushing and encouragement, a tiny egg makes itself known, cracking open shortly thereafter.

What lies within?

A chirpy, chubby-faced baby monkey with glowing (Macaque starts crying then) ears and dark fur - the little thing's cries sounding indignant as if they'd been awakened from a long sleep. Guanyin makes a point to gather the citrine and amethyst-imbedded shell of the newborn for the parents to keep.

Wukong and Macaque can't even remember what they were fighting about earlier - all that matters is the clinging baby on Wukong's chest. Little thing is a bit smaller than expected due to their premature birth, but they're healthy and hungry.

The rest of the Pilgrims are allowed in after everything is cleaned up and Macaque's hand has been bandaged.

First thing out of anyone's mouth is;

Zhu Bajie: "I thought monkeys had litters?" Wukong, growling: "Don't jinx me."

So yeah, now the Journey has a newborn baby and it's dad along for the ride.

[tiredwitchplant]

It's Time for Samhain! (Oct 31- Nov 1)

What is Samhain? In the Celtic calendar, Samhain marks the end of summer and the harvest season, and the beginning of the dark, cold winter months. It falls opposite Beltane on May 1, which represents the beginning of spring and the life-filled growing season.

It’s believed that the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest on Samhain. Historically, people were worried that they would encounter ornery spirits if they ventured outside on Samhain night, so they dressed as ghosts or wore masks to disguise themselves. Folks would leave treats on their front porch or place an extra setting at the table to welcome any friendly spirits who stopped by. You can see how these Samhain rituals easily morphed into our modern-day version of trick-or-treating in costume.

Nighttime bonfires were another of the long-standing Samhain rituals - this one was thought to help combat the impending darkness of winter and the fearful chill that accompanied the idea of roaming spirits. Because the veil between living and dead is believed to be the thinnest on this night, Samhain is also a powerful night for divination and spellcasting by candlelight.

Usual Symbols of Samhain:

Ale or Mead

Pumpkins

Skulls

Besom or Broom

Beans

Cauldron

Bats

Keys

Squash

Pomegranate

Nuts

Apples and Cider

Bones

Herbs and Plants for Samhain:

Rosemary – Associated with remembrance and is needed during this season in taking time to honor the memories of our ancestors and other lost loved ones. Can be used in an incense blend and at ancestor altar

Fall Flowers – Includes flowers like marigolds and chrysanthemums. Are associated with protection and chrysanthemums come in handy with connecting to the spirit world

Apples (the fruit, branches and blossoms) – Is considered sacred to a lot of gods. A good apple harvest means that the gods have shown the community their favor. You can use apples in different rituals, especially divination

Pomegranates – Is associated with the realm of the underworld and helps with communication with the dead. It is also associated with fertility of the fall.

Squashes, Pumpkins and Gourds – Is associated with abundance and provides sustenance for your family when the fields become bare and covered in snow. Is linked to psychic awareness and development and protection.

Mugwort – Is associated with divination and dreaming. Using Mugwort baths or incenses in the rituals can focus on treating depression, especially with the seasons changing

Rowan Trees – The branches and berries are a way to keep evil spirits out of your house and are associated with good health. If you plant a tree near a grave, it will prevent the dead from rising.

Sage – Is associated with cleansing and grounding. Is a great incense to cleanse your home to bring in the new and out with the old

Hawthorn – Has been associated with the gateway between humans and the spirit world. Is also rumored to an area where you can see fairies.

Crystals for Samhain:

Amethyst – Aids in opening one’s third eye and is valuable to be able to see Samhain’s spirits around

Black Obsidian – Is great for grounding and protect from evil spirits. Can be used in scrying when speaking to deities and spirits of Samhain

Citrine – Is used to honor the sun. Aids in prosperity spells and carries joy

Black Tourmaline – Wards off unwanted spirits from your property and can be buried into the ground to protect from psychic attacks and spirit intrusion

Orange Calcite – Orange is a sacred color to Samhain. This stone is associated with one’s sacral chakra and can cleanse and align reproductive organs, sexuality and get creativity flowing

Bloodstone – Known to heal cardiovascular illness and disease. Can help with ancestry links and work

Spirit Quartz – Is great in helping communicate with the spirits of Samhain and releasing old and toxic habits

Lepidolite – Used to appease the fairies that roam during Samhain

Serpentine – Is associated with snakes and aids in remembering past lives. Loki seems to like this stone and may be great to use for him if you work with him during this season

Dragonstone – Dragons are guardians of the earth, spirits of place, and connect us to Mother Nature. Helps say goodbye to the old years and our old selves

Skull shaped Stones – Since skulls are symbols of Samhain, skull shaped stone can help with symbolism during this holiday. They represent the life-death-rebirth cycle, wisdom and our ancestors

Spells and Rituals:

A Samhain Tea (Apple and Hawthorn Berry)

1 apple, sliced

2 Tablespoon dried hawthorn berries (or 4 Tablespoons fresh)

1 cinnamon stick

A pinch of cloves

4 cups water

Honey, to taste (optional)

Combine all ingredients in a small stockpot.

Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

Strain the plant material from the tea, then transfer the tea into two mugs.

Enjoy one for yourself, and leave the other on your table or front porch to nourish any wandering spirits who may pass while the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest.

A Pumpkin Spell for Prosperity

A pumpkin

Some paint

Go to the pumpkin patch (or local store) and select a pumpkin. Or let the pumpkin choose you.

Bring it home and paint prosperity symbols on it – money signs, runes for prosperity or harvest glyphs (whatever means prosperity to you).

Then place by your front door to invite prosperous vibes into your home this Samhain season.

Bonfire Release Purification Spell

Paper

Pen

Source of fire (bonfire, fireplace, candle flame)

Gather your materials and sit by the fire.

Take a few minutes to just listen to the fire crackling.

Gaze into the flames and connect with this powerful element.

Next begin to think about what habit or person you are releasing this Samhain. Think about why you’re purifying your life from this thing or person.

Then write the habit or person down on the piece of paper.

Fold it away from you 3 times.

Hold it in your hands and allow all of the negative thoughts and energies inside of you to “drain” out of you and into the paper.

Then throw it in the fire and say,

“After this Samhain, never again. Never again. I release _________ from my life by the power of the Samhain fire. So, mote it be.”

How to Make a Samhain Altar

Beautiful autumn leaves or flowers that you collect on a nature walk

A candle

A mugwort bundle

A string of rowan beads

A bowl of apples or a small pumpkin

A hawthorn wand or bowl of freshly picked hawthorn berries

A picture of your ancestors

To make an altar, first find a corner of your home or a table surface where you can arrange a few treasures. You don’t need a ton of space. You could use the top of a dresser, the corner of your desk, an unused side table, etc. 

After you’ve assembled your altar, spend some time sitting quietly in the space. Light the candle and/or mugwort wand, sip on a cup of Apple & Hawthorn Berry Tea and meditate on this energetically powerful day. 

I could find specific written instructions for a crystal grid but I found a video!

Crystal Grid for Samhain

Let's get ready for Samhain and have a great and safe time!

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Two

Notes/Warnings: We’ll see this where it goes. Did a few re-writes…

Mentions of ownership, nudity, dominate behavior

You trembled as the footfalls drew closer. You mumbled a prayer almost as fast heart thudded in your chest.

They had cleared out the room of the other girls you shared the space with. You wished on some level at least Atilia was there. She is the eldest out of all of them, very supportive. She had taught you what had been needed to serve the brother emperors. The last year had felt like several.

With a ramble of voices, the door creaked and groaned open. You kept your head down cast and hands behind your back.

“There you are.” Rasped a voice.

You inhaled but didn’t look up. You were utterly at a loss of how to react to your emperor.

His chuckle bounced off the walls.

“Despite slipping glances at me during the gladiators combating or I dare say during fights of beasts and yet now, you don’t look at me now.”

“May I look at you sire?” You whispered.

“No.” He chuckled louder.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“No, you can. I need to watch you.”

You blinking you finally looked up at him.

“As you wish.”

With the candle light flickering on his crown that sat on top of his curls to the folds of the soft fabrics that wound and hung off his strong frame he looked far taller here then ever before. You swallowed.

“Hold out your hands.”

You did as he said.

“Turn them over.” He nodded. “Have you washed today?”

“Yes. Twice.”

His eyes grew. “Twice?”

“Once upon waking since I would serve you and Carcalla today. And some moments ago, since I heard you would be arriving.”

A small smile crept up one side of his face. “That’s good.” He paused. His eyes moving across you. He gestured to your robes. “Take those off.”

Your heart stilled.

“Do not make me ask again.”

You pressed your lips together. Soon you undid the knots that held the fabrics together.

“There you are. As nude as goddess Venus.”

You could feel a soft breeze around you as he moved around you. He cast you in and out of the candle light.

“I am sure she is pleased with your form as am I.” He said he stood before you once again.

You bowed your head at his kind words.

As soft warmth filled you, your eyes watered. Never would you have ever expected that you would receive a compliment from your emperor.

“Thank you, sire.”

“Have you ever been with a man?”

Blinking, your tears clung to your lashes. “Sire?”

“Have you allowed a man to penetrate you?”

His mouth took a thin line, his face tight.

You took a step back, a chill ran down your back. You shook your head.

A startled scream remained in your throat so you could only gasp as a cool hand took a hold of your jaw. He tilted your face up.

“Answer me. I do not like waiting.”

A tear that lingered from the warmth he had just created in you fell from an eye.

“No sire. I have not.”

His hand just as quickly slipped free of you.

“Good.” He gestured to your clothes. “Put those on.”

You hastily slipped them around your form. Just before you could tie the fabric he stopped you. With a quick work of his rather nimble, slender fingers he fastened a broach. His initials were engraved on it.

“You are now mine, you belong to me.”

You swallowed.

@amethyst-serenade

[crheativity]

SUMMARY: Someone's picked a fight with Prefect! But he isn't going to let anyone hurt you anymore. Not on his watch. Part 2! Part 1 w/ Cater and Azul can be found here.

WARNINGS: Prefect (you) gets hit in the face & a cut is on your head. Use of the words t*cked (in Vil’s part) and h*ll (in Silver’s)

COMMENTS: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MIGHT HAVE CARPAL TUNNEL SO WRITING IS HARD- I might be writing less for a while :( Not sure if I’ll do another part to this one (unless you guys request for it)! but also! This is also dedicated to two people! @vtoriacore (happy extremely late birthday!!) and @silvers-numberonefan!! I hope you guys like it!!

It must be raining.

You were just out in a storm. That’s all.

That would explain the crack of thunder that collided with your face and gave you a throbbing headache. The warm liquid blurring your vision and dripping out of your mouth and nose was just the rain, not some unholy mix of blood and tears. The chills that froze you where you stood was just humidity and the cold, not adrenaline and raw fear.

And yet, even with your desperate brain trying to come up with some reasonable explanation, the only thunderstorm you could see in front of you was a student you couldn’t recognise. Not with your head pounding like this. Not with the thunder in your ears.

There was something about the boy that scared you. That wasn’t uncommon - this school was full of terrifyingly promising mages. But the scariest thing wasn’t how he wielded his magical pen with deadly accuracy, or how strong he so evidently was.

It was just how much he seemed to be enjoying the mix of horror and pain, of blood and tears, that must have been so evidently and delicately splashed across your face.

His smile twisted as he raised pen again, something in those cruel eyes of his setting off alarm signals in your aching head.

“This’ll teach you not to meddle where you don’t belong.”

The pen glowed, pure magic surrounding it as he prepared to shoot. His sadistic eyes were alight with entertainment. He knew what he was about to do. He didn’t care.

You squeeze your eyes shut and braced for the lightning.

And then everything went black.

“Darling…“ Your boyfriend and the Pomefiore housewarden, Vil Schoenheit, knelt in front of you as you sat on the floor. His voice, normally so perfect and soothing was now strained and tense. Barely hidden traces of wrath seeped through his words as he gently tilted your chin to observe the bruises and blood on your face.

You had arrived not that long ago. Upon defending you from your assailant, Rook Hunt, Pomefiore’s vice housewarden had speedily brought you to Vil. After filling the housewarden in on the situation, one thing became abundantly clear to you:

Vil Schoenheit was ticked.

He pulled a phial full of green liquid out of his bag, not releasing the hand gently and delicately cupping your cheek. Unstopping the cork, he gently lifted it to your lips.

“Drink.” His voice was gentle, but firm. Tilting your head back, you slowly drank the potion. It had the taste of lime and the consistency of honey. Warmth began to flood through you as you drank. Slowly, miraculously, you felt the pain ease, and your cuts started to stitch back together. The bruises you had gained began to fade, and the pounding in your head relaxed. Bit by bit, the potion took effect.

Bit by bit, the storm’s damage was fading.

Vil reached back into his bag and pulled out some makeup removal wipes. Gently bringing your face closer to his, he delicately began clearing the blood away. His blonde hair framed his face perfectly as he worked, the purple ombré highlighting his matching eyes. Eyes normally filled with calm determination, a gentle storm of amethyst.

Now, however, they contained a different kind of storm.

A storm filled with conflict. A storm filled with both the desire to protect and the desire to avenge. One you knew would never hurt you. One you could get lost in, and know you were perfectly safe.

But, based on the way he was looking at you now, you weren’t so sure that the other boy would get off unscathed. You almost winced in sympathy for him.

Almost.

Vil quietly put the now empty potion bottle and used wipes back in his bag. He then turned to face you.

“Are you feeling all right? Any better than before?“ His eyes searched yours for any indication that you weren’t okay.

You gave a strained, tense smile. “I’m alright now. Thank you.”

His worries seemed to soothe a little, for a brief moment. Then, he cast his eyes towards the floor and mumbled a curse under his breath.

“I don’t know what that arrogant potato was thinking. If only I had been there, that fool would have significantly less to show for his impulsive idiocy…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m alright, see?“ You wiggle your fingers in his face for proof, his smile becoming more relaxed when he saw you were alright enough to be silly.

“Still,” he huffed, “that unintelligent potato should know better. Who was he, by the way?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I think I’ve seen him around before, but never learned his name.”

Vil studied you, as if trying to figure out whether you were trying to protect your assailant - the filthy potato that attacked you - or if you genuinely didn’t know.

“In any case, it doesn’t matter, right? Everything’s okay now. As long as he leaves me alone, that is, haha…” you scratched your head awkwardly and smiled. It was nowhere near the perfect, practised smile that Vil gave his audience, but to him it was personification of beauty itself.

To him, you were the fairest of them all.

And to you?

You pondered this as you smiled at his perfect features. He truely was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. But your love for him wasn’t wrapped up in anything physical.

You simply loved him because of who he was. Flaws, insecurities and all. You loved the storm that he was - one that would always keep you safe, and never intentionally hurt you. The storm that would protect you as much as he was able. The one that had you dancing in and singing praises to the rain.

He smiled at you, wondering what thoughts were going through your head as he pulled you into a gentle, tight hug.

He was definitely going to ask Rook about that student. That potato would have to learn not to mess with you ever again.

After all, was it not the job of a ruler to protect those dear to them?

The sound of ice clashing with metal screamed through the air, ripping open your eyes in shock. A boy in black and green stood in front of you, his sword raised in a defensive position. His silver hair shone in the light, and you could see his eyes reflected in the blade he wielded with deadly expertise.

His concerned eyes met yours in the blade’s reflection.

His eyes.

You didn’t even know where to begin in describing them. Some argued they were light purple, others light blue. Everyone agreed on one thing, though. They were as dazzling as an aurora, shining with determination like a gem in the light.

“Are you alright, Prefect?”

“I-”

“Don’t you dare ignore me!” Your assailant fired two more spells in your direction. Your saviour, Silver, blocked them with ease, wielding his sword with surprising accuracy for someone who had been asleep less than five minutes ago.

Sheathing his sword, he pulled out his magical pen and raised it in self defence. “Excuse me, but I’m afraid I can’t let you hurt the prefect. You should leave now.”

Your assailant barked out a derisive laugh. “Like hell I will.”

“If you continue to try and hurt them, I will continue to protect them. I will not hold back. Make your choice.” His words weren’t loud, nor angry. He was offering your assailant a decision - walk away with his honour in tact, or accept the consequences of his actions.

There was something about Silver that had evidently unnerved your attacker. Whether it was the way he held himself, the way he spoke with such levelheadedness and determination, or maybe even just the way he wielded both his sword and his pen with such confidence, you didn’t know.

“This isn’t over.” He hissed at you as he wheeled around and stormed off.

You blinked. The storm was over almost as quickly as it had began.

You sank to the floor, dazed. Silver turned around and, seeing you on your knees, quickly started towards you. He knelt in front of you.

“Prefect. I am going to inspect and treat your injuries now. Do I have your permission?” He waited, his eyes searching yours for consent. When you nodded, he immediately reached for you.

His touch was gentle as he took your arms, turning them over to check for any major injuries. Upon finding nothing of note, he brushed your hair away to see the wound on your head clearer. After inspecting it tenderly, he gave a satisfied nod.

“The wound isn’t very deep. I could heal it now, or we could go to the nurse if you’d prefer?” He smiled at you gently and reassuringly.

“Um… could you do it please? If the others hear I’ve visited the nurse, they’d get worried, so…”

“Of course.” Lifting his pen, he gently tapped your forehead. You closed your eyes as you felt your cut knit together. The pounding in your head slow and stopped, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Opening your eyes, you met Silver’s. He looked concerned, but offered you that soft, caring smile of his. You realised then just how close you both were, and that he was still holding your hand, rubbing comforting patterns into it with his thumb.

The reality of what had just happened started to set in, and tears pricked at your eyes, stinging almost as bad as the injuries had. Silver smiled at you sadly, and opened his arms silently, offering a hug. You quietly accepted. He held you tightly, rubbing your back and remaining a solid support for you.

He always was.

Silver always had kept an eye out for you during your time at NRC. You hoped he always would, his presence was a comfort and a strength during your hardest times.

He had always provided shelter from the storm.

And he always would.

(BONUS)

“Ahh, young love!” Lilia had found the two of you, fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Pulling out his phone, he snapped a photo with a devious smile.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!��

[arcielee]

the sword & the salver

paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 3.8k+ warnings: AFAB reader, imagine that I am placing you in a crockpot and sprinkling some seasonings on top

Chapter II ~ Sunset and Friend

You awoke from the autumn chill with morning stretching across the horizon, streaking through the velvet night with its shades of oranges and yellows, the fuchsia hues of the sun rising to help warm the earth. The general was already up and waiting for you, shadows across his sharp features and his brow furrowed as he hitched his horse, a brown mare he called Mimiko, to the buggy. 

The cart was packed with the wicker baskets filled with the wrapped bars of soap from yesterday. You pushed them aside for enough room to place two of the molds that would continue to cool on the journey, setting one on top of the other. This had been a late night effort to ease your wandering mind, the amethyst that seemed to linger, and it would now be something to finish once you arrived at the market. 

And last was your satchel, tucked next to whatever the general had packed. It was enough–a change of clothes and the mementos of your mother, her ivory comb and a crystal vial you kept filled with rose oil, as well as your father’s book, Atsumeru. Your necessities. 

Once Mimiko was harnessed, you opted to walk on one side, following along the dirt path that rose up and away from your home, following the trees that were starting to shift with the season. As the buggy jolted along, you dared to steal a look across the mare’s backside, able to see the general with how tall he was on the other side and the glint of his pommel.

You appreciated the divide the horse allowed, able to hide away until you found your courage with your tongue. The silence broke with your questions asked, with the same curiosity and same genuineness he showed you the day before. Geto answered each one thoughtfully, albeit carefully, still cradling a reservation to his chest. 

“How ever did you come across it?” You were referring to his sword, stealing another glance to watch him reach behind his shoulders and wrap his hand around the hilt, as if he was making sure it was still fastened. 

“I saw the stone glinting through the grass, and I thought it was a gemstone,” he admitted, his hand dropping back to his side while the other held onto the excess rope that was haltered around to lead Mimiko, his gentle guidance. “I only realized later that the earth was just trying to swallow her again.”

Her, you noted. “They say that it sings when you cut down your enemies.” 

Geto hummed, a hint of smile touching his lips. “I can imagine a lot of things are said over time, but I am sorry to disappoint you. She does not sing. However, I can feel her vibrate when danger is near.” 

“It is a she, then?” You were smiling in return. You could not help it. 

He nodded with the same sincerity that he carried with every step, with every action, though his mouth was still curling upwards, bold. “I found out that her name has changed over the years: siren’s breath, the dark lady. But I simply call her Nanako.” 

You teased the general. “And Nanako hums for you?” 

“Vibrates,” he corrected, looking over to catch your gaze; you felt your blood heating beneath, your hand pressing to the side of the halter on Mimiko to keep your steps steady. He lifted his other hand to show a scar that stretched across his palm, silver skin knitted together. “When I found her, she was surprisingly sharp. I later learned it is your blood that binds you, but only she decides if you may wield her or not.” 

Worthy, came the thought again. “Or not…” you mused out loud. “How fortunate for you, general. But what happens to those she decides against?”

He shrugged. “I suppose they are cursed, as legend says.” 

The ease of your conversation with the general allowed time to slip away, and soon enough you spotted the market ahead, growing larger with each step, thrumming with life. It was an endeavor started by the queen mother as a way to help the lull of trades, rotating location with the seasons and expanding regional goods to all corners of the kingdom.

You would come with your father to help sell his stock–an array of different smells on display, his encouraging mantra about cleanliness–until they were gone, and then you would walk with him as he bartered for supplies with the coin earned that day. 

After he was gone, it became your personal annual enterprise to return, to continue just as he had. 

There was a vacant stall at the end of one of the rows of vendors. Each had a small room attached, inside was a bed and a table place as a courtesy for those who traveled to attend, as well as space for whatever stock was brought along. 

Geto unbridled Mimiko before moving to start carrying in the wicker baskets. You grabbed a cloth to drape over the table out front for display, reaching to pull the canopy up to shade before you started dividing the bars by their scent. 

Passerbyers’ eyes lingered longer than their steps and you called to the general after the first basket was unpacked. He obliged to manage the front, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched your half-hearted attempt to tuck a felt pouch into the belt he had tied around his slender waist.

You found that your fingers were trembling with his close proximity and his amusement arched his brow. “It is for the silver,” you flustered, your skin aflame, recoiling and returning to the room in the back. 

You ignored his chuckle and instead looked over the last of the soap settled in the molds set on the table, solid and dyed pink from the berries. Each was wrapped with care and you set aside two before grabbing the rest to return out front. 

You were struck by the sight, by the crowd forming in front of the booth, fawning over Geto. 

He was flushed, his attention poorly split amongst the women who rallied around, the mamas and the grandmamas calling for his attention, the wives who were crimson when his eyes flickered over–all of them vying for purchase. They made bold declarations about his beauty, begging Geto to step away for a moment and meet with whatever offspring available; you gawked at the young girls who shyly watched the general from behind the spectacle. 

Your lips pursed, muting your laughter as you moved to place the newly wrapped bars on the emptying tabletop. Geto snapped his head towards you, his eyes pleading, but he remained courteous, rose tones staining his cheeks. 

“We are running low,” he called to you.

The response was immediate–the narrowed, scrupulous eyes of all the women turning to where you stood. You nodded your acknowledgement, quick to duck into the back and grab another basket. Behind, you could hear their brash comments begin again, stirring louder once you were out of sight. 

Evening came as a relief and Geto pulled down the canopy. Your eyes were wide as you looked over what was left of the inventory. “I… cannot believe how much you sold. At this rate, we might be able to leave tomorrow evening,” you looked up from the empty baskets at the general. “I would not have been able to do all this without your help.” You burned, your throat tightening. “Thank you.” 

Geto only hummed, still watching as you moved to pull out the two bars of soap you set aside from earlier. You moved to hand one to him. “I know it is not much, but I really do appreciate all your help…”

“Do I smell, my lady?” 

He was teasing you. Again. And you could not stop the smile that spread across your mouth, something that seemed so easy whenever he was near. “No,” you turned away from him, grabbing your satchel and hugging it to your chest. “I just thought… it has been a long day and they have nice bathhouses here, if you so choose to go.” 

You were quick to add, “But I am not commanding it.”

He said nothing and though you could not look at him, you felt his signature smirk scorching on your skin. “I am going to wash up now,” your words came out rushed with your exhale, and you moved to leave before he could respond. 

The streets glowed with the manmade lights flickering, leading to the bathhouse. Inside you found that the women were still tittering away about the handsome man who sold soap. They gushed about his height, his gentle tone, his sharp jawline and his silky black hair. 

You slipped off to the side, your lips curling upwards, and pulled a clean cloth to wipe away the day’s grime. You palmed droplets of rose oil to massage into the ends of your hair, helping the ivory comb through, and listened as they continued. 

“Oh my, he is so very handsome! Did you see how tall he stood?”

“His eyes took away my breath! How they shimmered in the sun!”

“He seems such a nice young man! I wonder if he has a wife…”

You tucked everything away, you mind heavy from the steam and the incessant chatter. I suppose he is rather handsome, came the thought and you quickly shook your head. You slipped away, unnoticed, back outside for a brisk walk under the sliver of silver, the stars bright above; the chill returned, sharp with the cover of night.

As you retraced your steps, your blood surfaced to warm your skin–surely not because of the repeated, intrusive thought that rattled inside your head: “Oh my, he is so very handsome!”

The amber pooled beneath the door and you opened without thought to find the general. You blinked, watching his defined backside that was decorated with the silver scars of  past battles. His arms were lifted, using a cloth to dry his hair, the black satin spilling and sticking to his broad shoulders.

Geto turned towards you and your eyes watched the gooseflesh that rippled across his chest and shoulders, tracing down to his slacks that hung low on his hips, to the lines that cut into his trimmed waist

Oh my. He is so very handsome.

You balked in the doorway and he moved at once to pull on a clean tunic, though it was untied and still graciously showed off the smooth planes of his chest. “I–forgive me, I should have knocked. I did not think–” you prattled, your mind white, your instincts jarring to command your body to leave again. 

He caught your wrist, his touch still strong, still careful, and your skin prickled from his hold. Geto paused, gathering his thoughts. “Thank you for the soap,” he chose to say, his cheeks stained red as his eyes flitted back and forth to try and hold your own bashful gaze. “You can sleep here. I can leave and stand post tonight–” 

“You should stay.”

You burned from how his eyes bore through you, but you could not stop your tongue from forming the words or dam your lips to keep them from spilling. “I noticed it is rather cold tonight, and there is nothing, anything, we need to guard while in this village.” 

Geto watched you, deciphering your intention as you continued to ramble on. “I am certain you must be tired, and I am sure you have shared quarters whenever you were out doing, uh, whatever things are required from a general…”

His returned smirk had you wishing the earth would swallow you whole. “I have shared quarters before,” his voice low, careful. “If you are comfortable with it, I will stay.” 

“Of course, why else would I suggest it?” You nearly spat, pulling away from him to seat yourself on the mattress. Your nerves were rattling your bones as you emptied your satchel on top, only to pack it once again, your hands busy, your eyes avoiding.

Geto said nothing. You could hear him rummage, pulling out a thin blanket and furs unfurled that he placed on top of the bed before he nested beneath. You set your satchel aside, balling your fists to stop how they trembled. The general remained quiet, only lifting the layers to cover you as you moved to his side.

Silence settled over. A heat permeated from him as you waited, your droning mind soothed by his steady breath, the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

When you were certain he was asleep, you dared to move even closer to steal his warmth. You could smell the honeysuckle and tea tree oil from the soap, and how it complemented his skin. 

You took a breath and curled against his side. 

+ + + +

You could not remember the last time you had slept so well. There were no dreams, good or bad, just a calming comfort that had enveloped you.

The morning sun was already spilling through the window, but it was the murmuring market outside that pulled you awake. Your eyes widened with the realization that your head was on his chest and your arm was draped across, your hand resting on his hip. A small noise caught in the back of your throat, every muscle tensing to control your slow movements to unknot yourself from the general.  

You pulled away, sitting upright with a stretch, a yawn of relief, and only then did Geto stir, his eyes opening to find and focus onto you. “Good morning,” his voice cracked, a sleepy smile on his lips. 

“The public awaits you,” you tried to tease him, your head turning away with the shyness that was creeping back into your bones. 

The market was waking up and the patrons were posted out front, waiting. Geto pushed to sit up, his black hair mussed. “So it seems.” 

Today you saw an unexpected kindness from the general with how he was now managing the storefront. He was still courteous, always, but there was something almost enigmatic with how his eyes shone bright with each interaction. He offered a smile, but you noticed it seemed practiced and did not reach his eyes. 

Your stock was gone by the afternoon, leaving you awestruck with the sight. You palmed the felt pouch that was brimming with silver, incredulous at the amount. “This has not happened before,” you admitted to Geto, sheepish. He was pulling down the canopy to close shop, ignoring the sad sounds that echoed on the other side. “In all the years I have been coming here and this…” you trailed off, your eyes counting the coins. 

“It is a smart idea. It was bound to catch on.”

You looked up at Geto and he smiled, but this time, you swore that it glittered in his eyes. 

“I assume this means we can return to the capital.” He continued, his eyebrow arched. “Without biting?”

Oh. It was dawning, pulsing hotly through you, remembering the true reason for why he had been helping you. Your eyes fell back to the pouch balanced in both of your hands. “Oh, yes. Of course we can go, I mean, after we return the cart back home–” 

“Of course.”

“...but,” you continued to pull for something, for anything. “I would like to treat you to a meal before we leave.” 

There was a tavern renowned for its fresh baked bread and savory stew, simmered with salted meat and thick cut vegetables. You asked for a pint each, clinking your tankard to his own, your own smile feeling forced. “Thank you, general. Because of your help, I have enough to budget for the upcoming year. I even plan on looking to see what the capital has to offer for supplies.” 

He watched you, his same perusal gaze, his cheeks now rosy from the ale. “You truly do not mean to stay?”

“For what reason?” You tore another piece of the bread, soaking it in the broth. 

Geto hemmed for the right words. “You could have the power that comes with the crown to help people.”

You bit down, a thorough chew while you shook your head, collecting your thoughts. “That power has a different obligation. Prince Gojo holds that power because of the blood in his veins, whereas I would be little more than a gilded decoration in silk and jewels at his side.” This was how it was, you knew this. “Besides, there would be a showmanship expected of me… and I do not want that.”

His contemplation was glimmering with the amethyst of his eyes, shining beneath the dark lashes that framed them. “What do you want?”

You took another sip and swallowed to clear your throat. “I want to keep my freedom that has been created in the north. I want to continue my father’s practice. And I will not marry the prince–” you were rambling, but you felt the need to repeat this, urged on by his steady gaze, “–I have no wish to forfeit my life just so I may wear a crown of pretending power.” 

Geto was unreadable. Perhaps there was the possibility of emotions, but it seemed tightly wound and tucked away, hidden beneath his smirk. “Your independence is not worth the crown?” 

“My independence is invaluable.” You retorted, giggling, the ale warming your blood. 

The sun was tucking away when you finally left after checking over the other vendors and purchasing some herbs that you hung in the back of the buggy. Mimiko trotted gaily between you both, her load much lighter now, and you found you could fall back into the ease of conversation with Geto, an effortless flow that continued until the stars showed in the darkening sky above. 

He asked you about the leather-bound book you had with you, his continued curiosity to understand you. “I did not know you could read,” he said, and you knew it was not condescending but his genuine awe of your secrets unearthed. 

To be fair, education was more of a novelty for commoners, but you still chose to tease him. “That I do, general, as my father could not afford me the luxury to wait around with the hope that a prince I saved would return one day with the intention to wed me.” 

He surprised you with a snicker and your head was quick to look, your heart fluttering against your ribs at the sound. Geto wiped it away when he saw you looking, his face flushing. “You do not need to always use my title,” his tone changed, but still he remained guarded, cautious as always. “You may call me by my name.” A pause. “If you want to.” 

It was your turn to grow warm, your blood thickening beneath your skin. “Oh, very well,” you tried for flippancy, but your voice was strained as you tried out his name. “Suguru.” 

He was pleased and offered you another smile that shuddered through you. Suguru seemed reluctant to pull his eyes away, but he looked back to the front and yours followed. You saw an amber glow that stained the tree lines ahead and your skin prickled with the white smoke rising thick, blending to smear across the night sky. “Suguru…?” 

“I see it.” His voice was low, his concern knitted between his brows. “There must be a fire somewhere.”

The familiar path continued up the knoll that overlooked the river, leading home, and the smoke grew dense. At the peak, your stomach dropped as every emotion worked to petrify your organs; below you saw the reds and yellows of flames licking upwards, a hotness that was scalding, consuming the blackened skeletal remains of your home, swaying as it burned.

Reason was fleeting, lifting away with the smoke. “No–!” You tried to rush forward, propelled by a burst of hysteria that was running as hot as the fire. Suguru lurched and caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, but you fought back, your desperation cracking your voice. “Let me go! I have to stop it! I must–”

His voice roared above the wood that cracked and splintered, your name echoing in the trees that were wilting with the heat. “It is too late! You will only get yourself killed!”

It was enough and reason returned, a bittersweet taste in your mouth. You stopped fighting him, but your body was shaking with the adrenaline still searing in your veins; rivulets of tears poured down your face and mixed with the ash in the air. 

“Suguru,” you were shattered, broken. “My home.”

“I know.” He softened, pulling you back. Your face tucked into his chest with a muffled sob and he was careful to turn you away from the sight of the fire. His voice was soft and soothing in your ear, repeating: “I know, I know.” 

Suguru held you as your body wracked with grief; his large hand rubbed your back, the pressure grounding you as your sorrow poured, hot and aching. You cried until you were raw from your tears and from the smoke, until you had nothing but small hiccups as you regained your breath.

Only then did he guide you back towards Mimiko, who shifted and neighed her concern. He took your hand and wrapped it around the halter before slipping away. You were rooted, staring into nothing as your mind tried to grasp, to make sense that you could never again go home; it twinged, sharp with the onholding heat. 

A hand touched your shoulder and you looked up to see Suguru. His posture was tense, uncertain, a heartbeat of silence as he tried to find the words before he gestured for you to follow. Your steps were numb, stumbling after, and he wrapped his arm around your waist to guide you further away, Mimiko in tow. 

There was a camp settled in an arbor of trees further downwind of the river, away from the destruction, though you could still see the smoke lift and dissipate above. The blanket and furs from before were placed by a small fire that smoldered, a softer echo, carefully contained within rocks placed and wet sand that bordered around. 

He was gentle to cradle your face, a damp cloth wiping you clean, and he pulled you towards the bed he had made, pulling you onto his chest once again, the hint of honeysuckle now smothered with smoke. 

“We are far enough from it.” He meant to comfort you, but you choked on another soft sob. “You are safe here.”

With his last words whispered, you held onto him like a lifeline, new tears flowing softer than before. Suguru would not let go, his hands touching your hair and your back, soothing but respectful, until it pulled you into a dreamless sleep.

taglist: @sugurubabe @alwaysfreakingout @paprikaquinn @yeehawbrothers

arcie's navi | jjk masterlist the salver & the sword masterlist

[judesmoonbeauty]

Miss Fairytale Keeper, Come Have Fun With Us: Jude Jazza EPILOGUE

Translations will not include screenshots or CGs as mentioned here. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

[At the portside.]

Kate: Now, please listen to what I have to say.

While I couldn’t take my eyes off his swinging jacket, he asked me without turning around.

Jude: So, whaddya want princess?

Kate: Huh?

Jude: I promised to listen to anythin’ ya said?

(I hadn’t even thought about it……)

The slight excitement I’d felt vanished, and his troubling words stole my thoughts,

(….I know!)

Kate: I, want to gamble with you, Jude!

Jude: ….Hah?

[Transitions to Crown’s Lounge Room]

Kate: Um, is this alright?

Jude: Ya said so yerself.

As I massaged his shoulders while he sat on the sofa on the lounge room, I was shocked at my own weakness.

Jude: Who’da thought you’d lose fives times in a row?

Jude: Thanks for the laugh, though I set it all up myself.

Kate: I can’t say anything more….

A few days after the mission, my wish to gamble came true, and we played a card game with Ellis…..

(I shouldn’t have said that if I lost I’d give the winner a massage.)

Instead of betting money or rights, the terms were that my time increased because I lost five times in a row, and here we are. [1]

However, the biggest problem is -

(Jude’s shoulders are so STIFF!)

There was no point in massaging stiff muscles, and since Ellis couldn’t bear to watch, he suggested using something warm to soften them up, so he left to get a hot water bottle, leaving us two alone.

(His shoulders must be stiff because he works so hard everyday.)

Kate: It would be good to stretch everyday.

Jude: I punch ‘n kick.

Kate: That’s not stretching….

It was so hard that I was at a complete loss, so I came up with something else.

Kate: I’ll give you a foot massage!

Jude: Hah?

I walked around and knelt in front of him as he looked at me suspiciously.

Kate: I recently learned a massage that relieves foot fatigue.

Kate: The maids also really like it.

Jude: Don’t need it.

Kate: If you’re going to do something then you have to do it with everything you’ve got!

He looked annoyed as I took off his shoes and rolled up the cuff of his pants.

Jude: ….Do whatever you want.

He gave up and leaned back against the sofa.

Kate: Well, let’s get to it!

I massaged his calves,

(His legs are so tone……)

It feels a bit awkward when I touch his legs so casually.

(I need to massage them properly to relieve the fatigue.)

I press my thumb firmly into the muscle,

Jude: !

His body reacts with a twitch.

(This must feel good….)

Even though I was kneeling, I felt better, like I had the upper hand somehow, so I increased the strength of my massage, when his ankle suddenly moved to my collarbone.

Kate: !

I looked up in surprise, but he looked totally nonchalant.

(Coincidence?)

When I started the massage again, his tiptoes began to trace along the back of my arm from below.

Kate: Hmm.

My body shook from the tickling, but then my side was poked causing me to jump, and when I looked up again, I was met with a crooked smile.

Kate: Now, that was on purpose….

Jude: Wanna keep massagin’?

Kate: Well,

Jude: I’ll watch, so do yer best.

Kate: Ahh.

As his toes brushed against my side, I let out a lusty moan.

He laughed at me as I looked away in embarrassment……

Jude: Kneeled ‘cause ya wanted this, innit?

Kate: Th-that’s NOT true!

Jude: Why’re ya raisin’ yer voice like that?

Kate: That’s because it tickles.

Heat rises on my face because of embarrassment.

When I looked up to glare at him as I clung to his leg, he was smiling sadistically.

Jude: Ha!

My entire body felt chills through it.

Jude: Ya don’t even realize the look yer makin’ right now.

Kate: What kind of look -

Jude: A look thatcha enjoy bein’ bullied by me.

My chin was grabbed so I couldn’t look away, and I saw myself reflected in amethyst eyes.

The look on my face was filled with anticipation.

Jude: -This pervert.

Instantly, my body trembled with delight.

(There was never any competition.)

Because of him, I’ve learned things about myself that I didn’t even know.

[1] I believe for each round Kate lost, Jude increased her time spent to massage him, however, this is not explicitly stated.

[Master List] Kate frfr said, let me at those feet bae.

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Ten: The Beyond Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 9.3k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, death, fighting, blood, cursing, new character alert, we have so many characters already i'm so sorry, mauling of an elf, mind reader witch, Clarcton is pretty lame, drinking, drunkenness, nightmares, bonding, missing child (it's not that bad), fear, paranoia, insecurities, regret, guilt, shame, let me know if i've missed anything A/N: We're officially 1/3 of the way through our "little" story. Sorry it's been so long between updates. I've been working on so many things as the same time that TTW got placed on the backburner for a bit. Thanks for reading!

prev. || masterlist || next

I never expected Clarcton to be so plain. As a girl, I used to dream about escaping the swamp, imagining a world beyond my responsibilities—a world full of beauty and freedom. But standing in the little village’s town square, those daydreams evaporated like morning mist.

Stover, the tiniest town in Clarcton, was quaint and small, with cobblestone streets and wooden cottages that seemed to lean on each other for support. The townspeople moved with the kind of slow, deliberate pace that comes from a life untroubled by haste. Their eyes lingered on me, and I could feel their curiosity as they assessed the stranger in their midst. I stood out just by being different, my scars a map of battles they couldn’t fathom.

Through a day of shopping, I learned that Stover rarely saw travelers. The elves invading the northern tip had made the locals wary, and I could hear their whispers about my scars. Ignoring them wasn’t easy, but I’d be gone tomorrow. The market was a small square, stalls offering modest wares—fresh produce, simple cloth, handcrafted trinkets. Each vendor seemed to eye me with a mix of suspicion and pity.

Northorn still held strong, its capital unfallen. King Edward had called for aid from Whopping, a fishing town on the east coast. The wolves of Viridi Gramine had decided not to help the humans, heading instead to Bangtan to protect their princess. Hearing the townsfolk speak ill of Hyuna made my stomach churn. These people were ignorant, jumping to conclusions like humans always did since the Sarkans first landed in Lustra.

Starving, I dropped off my supplies and set out for food. Hannah, a kind woman who ran the inn, had pointed me to a tavern that promised a decent meal. However, I was low on money and too frightened to barter. Drawing attention could be dangerous, especially after hearing rumors of elves in town. I’d hidden in shops, body tense, the sight of white hair sending chills down my spine.

Elves all looked the same—pale, white-haired, with amethyst eyes. This party had no women, and when I asked the tailor, he explained that their kind had a queendom where men were lesser beings. These elves were young and inexperienced, sent to weaken before the real conquerors arrived. The tailor believed Lustra would fall when the second wave came.

The tavern buzzed with an overwhelming clamor. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ale and sweat, and it was clear that I was the only human present. The elves, their pale faces flushed with drink, were loud and rowdy, their laughter grating on my ears. Ale sloshed over the edges of their mugs, splattering the wooden floor. Keeping my head down, I approached the bar and ordered soup and ale, deciding it was safer to stay than to risk attracting attention by leaving too soon.

Finding a corner table, I settled in, hoping to blend into the shadows. The warmth of the tavern was a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it did little to soothe my nerves. As I waited for my meal, snippets of conversation drifted to me. The elves boasted of their exploits, their voices dripping with arrogance. They spoke of battles and conquests, their laughter tinged with cruelty. Each word stoked the fire of my hatred, but I kept my face impassive, my gaze fixed on the table in front of me.

When the tavern maid brought my soup and ale, I thanked her quietly, avoiding eye contact. The soup was hearty, its warmth spreading through my body with each spoonful. The ale, though bitter, helped to steady my nerves. I ate slowly, trying to make the meal last as long as possible.

As I ate, a group of elves at a nearby table grew louder, their taunts more pointed. They spoke about the humans they had encountered, their words laced with contempt. One of them, a particularly burly elf with a scar running down his cheek, caught my eye and sneered. “Look at that one,” he said loudly, gesturing towards me. “Thinks she can hide among us.”

The others laughed, and I forced myself to remain calm, taking another sip of my ale. The burly elf stood, his steps unsteady, and made his way over to my table. “What’s your name, human?” he demanded, leaning in close, the stench of alcohol on his breath.

I looked up, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “None of your business,” I replied evenly.

His sneer widened, and he reached out, grabbing my arm. “Feisty one, aren’t you? I like that.” He pulled me to my feet, and I could feel the eyes of the entire tavern on us. The room had fallen silent, the tension palpable.

The elf’s grip tightened, and I winced, but refused to show fear. “Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he taunted, pulling me closer. “You’ll make me?”

Before I could react, a flash of movement caught my eye. Another elf, smaller and quicker, appeared beside the burly one. “Enough, Dalion,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Leave her be.”

Dalion hesitated, his grip loosening slightly. “Why? She’s just a human.”

“Because I said so,” the other elf replied, his tone brooking no argument. “We don’t need any more trouble.”

With a grunt, Dalion released me, shoving me back into my chair. “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at me one last time before returning to his table. The smaller elf gave me a brief nod before following.

I took a shaky breath, my heart pounding. The tavern slowly returned to its previous state, the noise level rising once more. I finished my meal quickly, eager to leave and find some semblance of safety. As I paid for my food, I noticed the smaller elf watching me, his expression unreadable. I decided to go to the bar and finish my night there.

At the bar, a hooded figure sipped clear liquor, the sharp smell cutting through the tavern's haze. The bartender, his eyes darting between me and the elves, asked where I was from.

"Leeside," I lied, knowing he saw through it but didn’t call me out. He knew my destination and that Leeside was big enough to hide in. "Just passing through."

He nodded, wiping the bar. The elves were bothering a drunk old man for money, out of coins and still thirsty.

"Heard about Azamar?" the bartender asked.

I nodded, taking a bite. "Hot. Too bad, I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year."

The hooded figure shifted, drawing my instinctive gaze. Her teeth were too large, canines sharp, and one incisor framed in gold—a mark of an assassin from Whopping, according to Hoseok.

"The plains are worse," she said, her voice rough but feminine. "Hard to see anything if you go that far south."

"The northern tip isn’t too bad," I replied without thinking. "I came in through that way."

"Interesting."

She knew I was lying. Keeping my fear in check, I ate. The bartender offered another bowl on the house, which I accepted, knowing hot meals would be scarce. The elves grew louder, and I wanted to leave. Tomorrow, I’d memorize the maps Sam packed.

"Hey! You!"

I closed my eyes, feeling their gaze. They spoke a bastardized Lustrian, discussing my potential in bed and survival odds. I resisted the urge to respond, knowing a fight would expose me. Humans feared magic, as Aldara always said.

"Girl," another elf slurred, "give me some money. I need another drink."

The bartender, catching on, turned his back. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He knew I understood them. I was obviously not an elf, so the options were shifter or witch—either one could spell trouble if the bartender exposed me out of ignorance.

"I’m talking to you, bicce."

My eye twitched. The bartender noticed, realization dawning. He turned away, leaving me to fend for myself.

Fortunately, he didn't look disgusted by me. His face remained remarkably neutral as he returned with a refill. He carefully placed a napkin on the bar before setting down the glass. I glanced at him, then at the woman out of the corner of my eye. She was tense, her head inclined towards me, her eyes hidden but clearly watching me as closely as the elves were. They were louder now, frustrated by my lack of response. I picked up my glass and read the smudged writing on the napkin.

"I'm Vern."

I took a sip, nodding, keeping my face impassive. Quietly, I ordered another drink, placing a copper coin on the bar, and pointed at the group with my thumb. I didn’t care what they wanted, but I hoped Vern wouldn’t provoke them. With great care, I picked up the napkin.

Crumpling it in my hand, I muttered under my breath, wiping it against my lips before placing it back on the bar. I went back to eating. Vern brought the elf his drink, and their angry taunts stopped. The one who called me a bitch thanked me in a condescending tone. I wanted to tear him apart, but instead, I drank my ale and ate my vegetable soup.

Vern came back, picking up my napkin and walking over to the trash can behind the bar. The traveler next to me was still staring, and I knew she knew what had happened. They both had their secrets. She stayed hidden beneath her cloak, while Vern saw too much. Both of them were searching for something, but I couldn’t tell you what. I did know, however, that lying would only make me look worse. I had given him my first name and hoped that would satisfy his curiosity.

Another napkin appeared in front of me. Vern was wiping down glasses, back turned, and I was sure no one except the three of us understood what was going on. I glanced down.

"Moland. Etta Ketchens’ son."

So, there was another witch around. Moland was the original land of magic. All witches alive today descended from those who first discovered it in the swamps. Bangtan stole the title after witches began making deals with the ielfen. Their world was linked to the spirit realm, and the monsters that lived there were difficult to manage, so they sent them to the forests. The witches were strong enough to keep them away, but the creatures found refuge in Bangtan.

Anyone from Moland had magic, and I had heard of Etta from Thelma. She was from the northeast. I had never met her, but she was known for playing music and throwing great parties. Trusting Vern became easier. We were in the same boat, and witches liked to stick together. At the very least, I knew I had backup if it came down to a fight.

"Bangtan. Thelma Richard’s niece."

He nodded, his eyes wandering to the woman at the end of the bar. She hadn’t taken her eyes off us since the written exchange began. Her eyes seemed to glow within the darkness that surrounded her face, boring into me, waiting for something. Feeling exposed, I stood. It was time to leave. I had done what I came here to do, and the elves were starting to badger people for money again.

Vern shook his head and glanced down at my seat, giving me pause. Gaze turning to the woman, she shrugged and shook her head in agreement. I had no reason to trust either of them, but I had a feeling in my gut. Even if we wouldn’t normally help each other, right now, we had a common enemy. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Aldara would say I should listen before reacting. So, when the woman offered to buy me another drink, I sat back down.

“They’re planning on following you home,” Vern murmured, placing a glass in front of me.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m gifted. You could say I specialize in mind magic.”

Stiffening, I eyed him with new wariness. That’s how he knew I was lying; he could hear my thoughts. Vern nodded, answering my unasked question.

“I’m not concentrating on you,” he clarified. “I’m trying to watch them. I’m just picking up bits and pieces of everyone else. She’s—” He looked at the woman, “—not human either. She’s trying to decide if she should accompany you. You’re both going east.”

The elves were back to insulting me for another drink. I gritted my teeth, my anger and frustration bubbling over. I’d always been a hothead, but my emotions felt so volatile now. I hated them. I hated everything they stood for. Cordelia’s dead body flashed in my mind, and Vern couldn’t hide the horror on his face.

“Bicce!”

Beside me, the woman turned her attention to the elves.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” she growled.

Their group stopped their taunts, a thick, tense silence falling over the bar. Tensing, I prepared to defend her. She didn’t need to take up for me, but my hatred made the decision easy. I wanted to kill them all.

The elf scoffed in disbelief. Vern’s eyes widened in horror, and he reached out towards the hooded woman. I knew what was coming, and instead of waiting, I took action.

I’d always been a loose cannon, but these last few days had made me feel more unhinged than ever. Anger, sorrow, and hatred coiled tightly in my stomach, driving me insane. The nightmares. The heartache. Yoongi’s blank stare. Cordelia’s lifeless body in the flames. Jimin’s anguish. Sol’s betrayal. All of it consumed me, and for once, I didn’t try to stomp the flames out.

“Swígan!” I shouted, turning to face the elves. I had reached my limit. Knowing I had at least one other witch on my side, I felt emboldened. “Mieltan.”

The iron ring on my finger melted, searing my skin, but I hardly registered the burn. I shot the melted iron like a rocket, stabbing the elf who disrespected me through the chest. Dalion couldn’t scream. When I retracted the metal, there was a hole so large I could see through his body. The other three stared, mouths agape, before turning on me. The dead one fell to the floor with a thud.

The remaining elves rushed at me, their movements fluid and unnervingly synchronized. I didn’t hesitate. The iron ring, now a molten band around my finger, reshaped itself into a thin, sharp blade. I slashed at the closest elf, the blade slicing clean through his raised arm. Blue blood sprayed, and his scream was a piercing wail.

I spun, my instincts sharpened by adrenaline, and kicked another elf, the one who had defended me earlier, square in the chest, sending him crashing into a table. Wood splintered under his weight, and the patrons near him scrambled to get away. The third elf tried to grab me from behind, but I twisted, using the momentum to elbow him hard in the face. His nose crunched, blood spurting as he staggered back, clutching his face.

The elf with the severed arm was still screaming, trying to cast a spell with his remaining hand. I didn’t give him the chance. I lunged, driving the blade into his throat. His eyes widened, a gurgle escaping as he collapsed.

The elf I had kicked was back on his feet, rage contorting his features. He muttered an incantation, and I felt a wave of energy pulse towards me. Instinctively, I threw up a shield, the air crackling with the force of our opposing magics. My shield held, but I could feel the strain. I couldn’t let him overpower me. With a snarl, I pushed back, my magic flaring, and the shield exploded outward, knocking him off his feet.

Vern had been right about the woman. She was a shifter, and now her cloak had fallen away, revealing her true form. She was massive, her muscles rippling under her skin and a pair of black ears poked through her long, black hair. She let out a roar, leaping into the fray with a ferocity that matched my own. She tackled the elf who had been behind me, her nails elongating into claws that raked across his chest. He shrieked, trying to fend her off, but she was relentless, tearing into him with a savage precision.

The elf I had knocked down was getting back up, and I moved to intercept him. He cast another spell, a bolt of energy shooting towards me. I dodged, the bolt sizzling past my ear and scorching the wall behind me. I retaliated with a burst of fire, the flames engulfing him. He screamed, thrashing as the fire consumed him, and then he was silent, his charred body crumpling to the floor.

The last elf was still alive, barely. He was pinned under the woman, her claws at his throat. He looked up at me, eyes wide with fear. I walked over, the molten blade in my hand dripping with blue blood. I knelt down, meeting his gaze.

“You should have left me alone,” I said softly, before driving the blade into his heart.

The bar was silent now, the only sounds the crackling of the flames and the labored breathing of the survivors. The humans who were coherent enough to watch the altercation fled the bar screaming while the others were too drunk to care. I still had energy to burn, shaking with the force of my emotions. Too quickly. I wanted more time with them. I wanted to kill them again and again. I wanted to earn their hatred. I wanted—

“What’s your name?”

I looked at the hooded woman. Her face was covered in blood, and she smiled crookedly. She had deep, pitted dimples, and pieces of jewelry shone inside them.

"Y/N," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

"Lily," she said, giving me a small bow before standing up. Her muscles bulged and twitched with each movement, almost as tall as Jimin. Her hands were adorned with intricate tattoos, and her nails were a vivid ruby red. "Would you mind some company during your travels?"

"Do you know your way through Ozryn?" I asked, eyeing her warily.

She nodded. "I'm from Idris. I'm meeting some friends in the mountains."

Despite my earlier reluctance, this woman might be my only option for crossing the mountains safely. Assassin or not, she was offering her services, and my violent display earlier should deter any funny business. She might beat me in a physical fight, but I had magic on my side, fueled by enough emotional turmoil to last a lifetime. The fact that we were both shifters aided in my trust. We were both wanted citizens if the elves had anything to say about it, and her exposing herself made it hard to justify turning her away.

“You’re obviously a shifter,” I said, placing my remaining coins on the bar. Vern deserved the tip. He'd been an excellent server. "What are you?"

"Maned Wolf," she answered, already walking toward the bar exit. That meant she was half-wolf, half-fox. It would not surprise me if she was the last of her kind. "We should leave. Those humans have alerted the local police about your little... situation."

I looked at Vern, who was quick to agree with Lily’s plan. He would cover for us. Thanking him, I followed the huge woman out of the bar. She hadn't really answered my question, but given the circumstances, I let it slide. I had just murdered four people in a bar. I should have felt more shame, but I couldn't muster any. They killed Cordelia. They deserved it.

“We can collect your belongings from the inn and leave. Okay?”

I agreed. We moved quickly. No one was at the front desk when I entered, making sneaking upstairs a cakewalk. I threw my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the few personal items I had lying around. A deep sadness settled into my chest as I thought back to the fight. I hated flashbacks, but I was starting to realize there was something I disliked even more: myself.

I should have just left and minded my own business. That’s what Jimin would have done. A fight would be a last resort. Instead, I acted a fool for someone I didn’t even know, a woman whose face I couldn’t pick out in a lineup, who could easily have turned her back on me the moment I killed the first man. I didn’t stop to consider that someone else might have abandoned me back there. I was so used to being surrounded by people who loved me that hindsight was 20/20. This time, I had simply gotten lucky. If it had been anyone other than an elf I killed, they would have been disgusted by me. Hell, I felt disgusted by my actions.

Cordelia wouldn’t have been able to look me in the eye after a stunt like that.

Shaking myself out of my daze, I rushed back downstairs. Hannah was at the desk now, and three men wearing navy blue uniforms were crowding her. Quickly, I stopped and kept myself hidden in the shadows, body pressed against the wall as I listened in. They hadn’t heard my footsteps. Human ears were very weak.

“I told you I don’t have any witches staying here,” the human girl barked, clearly fed up with their interrogation. “The old man must have been confused. Vernon even said he was being ridiculous. Those elves were nowhere near the tavern.”

“Well, we can’t find them anywhere else, and it wasn’t just John. Betsy said she saw it happen as well.”

“Betsy?” Hannah drawled, placing her hands on her hips. “So you have a drunk and a schizophrenic's testimony? Have to say, Charles, I expected more from you.”

“Now Ms. Winslow—” one of the men attempted to speak, but Hannah flashed him a dark look. He quieted quickly.

“No,” she spoke in a bored, cold tone that reminded me of Yoongi. They even had the same unimpressed, irritated look. “The three of you came barging in here in the middle of the night, ranting and raving about a witch on the loose who, by the way, according to my records, does not exist. I don’t know where any of you got off waking me and my father at a time like this, but he’s far too sick to be dealing with this mess. So, either tell me a name I can work with or get the hell out. Your choice.”

I was impressed with the girl. She had to have known who they were searching for. I had suddenly popped up, and now you have four elves dead in a bar? Too coincidental. Still, she was covering for me, and I was grateful. It was a shame I was out of money.

“Sorry for your troubles, Hannah,” the man in the middle said, tipping his hat. “Hope Maurice feels better soon. We’ll go and ask Martha and Dawn about it. You could be right about the two kooks.”

I didn’t like the way they talked about John or Betsy. They might have been a bit odd, but they were not liars. I hoped their words wouldn’t get them into any trouble, at least not on my behalf. I’d much rather get arrested and escape than let anyone else get locked up. The policemen left, the wooden door slamming behind them.

“You can come out now.”

Walking the rest of the way down, I hoped my face conveyed how sorry I felt. I didn’t want anyone else inconvenienced because of me. Hannah, however, looked very happy. With a big smile, she greeted me. Lily crawled out from under the desk, hood still securely on, and patted the other girl’s head.

"Congratulations on winning your fight," the human drawled, dark hair tousled from just waking up.

"It's not something worth celebrating," I replied, handing my sack over to Lily when she held out her hand for it. "Thank you," I told the massive woman.

"You need a coat," the traveler demanded, her voice brooking no argument. "It's cold."

Opening my bag, she started digging around before finally landing on the cloak I bought this morning. It was heavy, lined in white fur, and beautifully handcrafted. The most expensive thing I bought next to the boots I was wearing. The outside of it had a beautiful ornate flower pattern spun in a delicate silver color, almost perfectly matching the shade of Jimin’s hair.

"This is nice," Lily commented absentmindedly, handing over the cloak. "Good purchase."

I tied it around my shoulders and charmed it like the rest of my clothes. Taking things on and off would take too much time in an emergency. Lily slung my bag over her shoulder like it weighed nothing, and I was glad to be rid of it. Flying would be easier without the annoyance of straps.

Then it hit me. I couldn't fly as quickly as I normally did. If I had a wolf hybrid traveling with me, I would need to travel in the only way she could. On foot. It was almost enough to make me second-guess bringing her along. Alas, I needed the extra hands, and a guide who knew the area was too good of a resource to flush down the drain. Traveling would take longer, but I would have a better chance at living through this.

"The best elves are the dead ones," Hannah yawned. "You should get going. They’re going to be looking for you all night. Vern cleaned up the mess already, so don’t worry about it. He sends his love."

I nodded. "Tell him if he wants to go back to Moland anytime soon, to stay east and travel down the Syrena River. Most of the witches are in Foxglove now. You both could find some protection there."

She smiled at me. "When my father is well enough for the journey, I’m positive that fool will be taking the two of us with him."

There was no mistaking the affection in her voice.

"You two…" I trailed off. "He loves you."

Thinking back to the moment she was brought up, I had not noticed the same tenderness in Vern’s voice. However, the fact that he had spoken to her about me in such great detail pointed to some sort of relationship. It being a romantic one made me unreasonably happy. They were both friends of mine, even if they did not see me in the same light. I was happy they were together. Witches and humans were not a typical pairing, but I could say the same about my own situation.

"Almost as much as I love him," she winked.

"We need to go," Lily gruffed, grabbing my arm. "I can hear them making their way back towards the inn," she frowned at Hannah. "They’re going to bother you for a little while. Sorry about the trouble."

"Like I said," she huffed, "You did everyone a favor. I don’t want to hear another word about it."

"Thank you," I told her. "For everything. Vern too."

"Go," she replied, shooing us away with her hands. "Go around the back. There’s a small nature reserve that stretches on for a few miles. Keep north before heading east. That should take you to Azamar Pass, but stay close to the volcano. They have encampments everywhere."

Azamar Pass was a small stretch of land connecting Lustra to the island where the Ula’re volcano rested. A large bridge connected it to Northorn and another to the land before the Ozryn mountains. It was likely the safest place for us to travel through despite the treacherous terrain. According to my maps, it was filled with hills and jagged cliffs that could kill you easily. Lily seemed confident enough, so I decided to follow her. She knew this place better than I ever did.

"I know the area well," Lily assured the girl. "We will be safe."

I had to trust she was telling the truth.

We slipped out the back, the night air biting through the fur-lined cloak. The reserve Hannah mentioned was darker than I expected, the thick canopy of trees blotting out the moonlight. We moved quickly, our breath fogging in the cold air. Lily led the way, her steps confident despite the uneven ground. I followed closely, every crunch of leaves underfoot setting my nerves on edge.

The silence between us stretched, only the sounds of our hurried steps and the occasional rustle of wildlife breaking it. My mind raced, replaying the events of the night. I had always been a hothead, but tonight felt different. It wasn't just anger that drove me, but a deeper, more consuming fury. Cordelia’s death had changed something in me, twisted a part of my soul that I wasn’t sure I could ever untangle.

"Are you alright?" Lily’s voice broke through my thoughts. She had stopped and was looking back at me, her eyes sharp even in the dim light.

"Yeah," I lied, not trusting myself to say more.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "We’re almost there. Azamar Pass is just beyond these woods."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. We continued on, the terrain growing steeper as we neared the pass. The ground beneath our feet turned rocky, the air heavy with the scent of sulfur. The volcano loomed in the distance, a dark silhouette against the night sky.

We reached the edge of the reserve and paused, taking in the sight before us. The pass was a narrow strip of land, flanked by jagged cliffs and treacherous drops. It was more daunting in person than it had seemed on my maps.

"Stay close," Lily warned, her voice low. "The winds can be brutal up here, and the paths are narrow."

We started across, the wind immediately whipping at our clothes and hair. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, every step a fight against the elements. Lily moved with the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before, her large frame somehow slipping through the narrowest of paths with ease.

Halfway across, the ground trembled beneath our feet, a low rumble emanating from the volcano. I froze, fear clutching at my heart. Lily glanced back, her expression unreadable.

"Keep moving," she urged. "It’s just a tremor."

I forced myself to keep going, each step feeling like an eternity. The path seemed to go on forever, the cliffs on either side closing in like the jaws of some great beast. By the time we reached the other side, my legs were shaking and my lungs burned from the effort.

We collapsed on the ground, the safety of solid land a welcome relief. Lily pulled out a canteen and handed it to me. I took a grateful sip, the water cool and refreshing.

"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.

She nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "We need to keep moving. There’s a cave not far from here where we can rest for the night."

We got to our feet and continued on, the landscape gradually shifting from rocky terrain to dense forest once more. The trees grew thicker, their branches intertwining overhead to form a natural canopy that blocked out most of the sky. The sounds of the forest began to surround us—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The path ahead was narrow and winding, forcing us to move in single file, with Lily leading the way.

After what felt like hours, the cave Lily had mentioned came into view, a dark, yawning mouth in the side of a moss-covered hill. The entrance was partially hidden by overgrown vines and thick underbrush, making it almost invisible to the casual observer. We ducked inside, and the temperature dropped noticeably, the cool, damp air enveloping us like a shroud. The cave was surprisingly spacious, with a high ceiling that echoed our footsteps as we ventured further in.

Lily set down my bag and immediately began gathering kindling for a fire, her movements quick and efficient. I watched her as she worked, unable to shake the feeling that there was something otherworldly about her. Despite her petite frame, she moved with a precision and grace that spoke of years spent surviving in the wild. Her hands were steady and sure as she arranged the twigs and branches, and within minutes, she had a small fire crackling to life.

As the flames grew, casting flickering shadows on the cave walls, I couldn't help but study her more closely. Her face, illuminated by the firelight, seemed both young and ancient, with eyes that held secrets I couldn't begin to fathom. There was a quiet strength in her, a resilience that I envied.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked finally, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

She paused, looking up from her task, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made me shiver. "Because you need it," she said simply. "And because I’ve been where you are."

I frowned, not understanding. "Where I am?"

She nodded, her expression softening. "Lost. Angry. Searching for something you can’t quite name."

Her words hit closer to home than I cared to admit. I looked away, the weight of the night's events pressing down on me once more. The memories of the fire, the screams, and the feeling of helplessness washed over me, and I had to fight to keep my composure.

"You don’t have to do this alone," she continued, her voice gentle but firm. "Whatever it is you’re searching for, it’s out there. But you won’t find it by tearing yourself apart."

I didn’t know what to say, the truth of her words cutting through my defenses. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps there was a way forward that didn’t involve self-destruction.

"Get some rest," she said, her tone softening even further. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

I nodded, lying down on the cool ground, using my bag as a makeshift pillow. The fire's warmth was comforting, and the sound of the crackling flames was soothing. As I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking me, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone as I thought.

I couldn't see past the smoke. It was a roiling, black mass, punctuated by brilliant yellow flames that danced like demons in the night. Shiloh's voice cut through the chaos, a desperate cry reaching out through the suffocating darkness, pleading for me to return. Inside, the screams were a cacophony of terror and anguish, and I ran, my small feet pounding the earth as I shouted for Auntie. Shiloh's cries grew louder behind me, but I ignored her, driven by a singular need to reach the cottage. I had to get to Aldara.

The distance stretched endlessly, the screams crescendoed, and Shiloh's voice became an unbearable buzz in my ears. I was sobbing, calling Aldara's name, feeling the forest around me weep. The spirits that had once tormented me now seemed my only solace, and I crumpled to the ground. No matter how desperately I tried, the cottage remained out of reach. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it—a movement that made my breath catch.

There it was, not even ten yards away—a large, midnight-black wolf with eyes like burning coals. The firelight cast a grotesque glow on its face, revealing a blood-stained muzzle. In its mouth was an arm, the ring on it gleaming malevolently. Anger surged within me, turning my vision red as I focused on the ring—a skull etched in fiery orange and yellow. Before I could stop myself, I was chanting a spell, my voice echoing through the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled in response.

The wolf dropped the arm and snarled, its eyes locked on mine. The air crackled with energy, the spell building inside me, threatening to tear me apart from the inside out. The wolf lunged, and I screamed, the spell bursting forth in a torrent of raw power. The ground shook, the trees groaned, and the wolf was thrown back, its body slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch.

I collapsed, the spell having drained every ounce of strength from my body. The forest fell silent, the only sound my ragged breathing. I crawled towards the cottage, my limbs trembling, my vision swimming. The smoke began to clear, and I could see the outline of the cottage through the haze.

Aldara lay on the ground, her body limp, her face pale. I reached her side, my hands shaking as I tried to rouse her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me, a weak smile playing on her lips.

"You did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames. "You saved us."

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. The forest had fallen silent, the spirits watching us with a newfound respect. I had faced the darkness and emerged victorious, but at what cost?

As the first light of dawn broke through the trees, I held Aldara close, the weight of the night's events settling on my shoulders. The forest might have been our home, but it was also a place of danger and despair. And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

But then everything started to change. The flames flickered and became stars in a velvet sky. The trees twisted and turned, transforming into towering figures that whispered secrets in a language I couldn’t understand. Shiloh's voice turned into a soft lullaby, and the ground beneath me felt like the softest bed I had ever known.

Aldara’s form began to shimmer and fade, her features blurring as if she were being drawn away by an unseen hand. "You must go," she said, her voice echoing like a distant melody. "This world is not for you."

I tried to hold on to her, but my hands passed through her like smoke. The stars above began to swirl, forming a spiral that pulled me upwards, away from the forest, away from the cottage. I was weightless, floating, the screams and flames and shadows all fading into a soft, gentle darkness.

I awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream slipping away like shadows at dawn. The morning light streamed through the cave entrance, illuminating the damp stone walls and casting eerie shapes that danced in the corners of my vision. I lay there, struggling to piece together the fragments of a nightmare that felt all too real. But no matter how hard I tried, the details eluded me, leaving only a lingering sense of unease and the whisper of a name.

"You okay?" Lily's voice broke through the fog, soft yet insistent. I blinked, shaking off the last vestiges of the dream. The cool, damp air of the cave was a grounding contrast to the surreal horrors still echoing in my mind.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice hoarse. "Just a bad dream."

Lily studied me, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see through my flimsy facade. But she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she handed me a piece of bread and some dried fruit, which I accepted gratefully.

"We should get moving soon," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "The sooner we leave, the better our chances of staying ahead."

I nodded, chewing slowly as my thoughts lingered on the dream, the name echoing like a distant drumbeat in my mind.

We packed up quickly, the remnants of the fire reduced to ashes that Lily expertly scattered with her foot. Outside, the forest was waking up, the early morning light filtering through the leaves and casting a soft, golden glow on everything. Birds chirped, and small creatures rustled in the underbrush, weaving a tapestry of normalcy that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil roiling inside me.

As we began to walk, the path ahead seemed clearer, more defined. It was as if the forest itself was guiding us, the trees parting just enough to show the way. I fell into step behind Lily, my thoughts drifting back to her words from the night before: lost, angry, searching for something you can't quite name.

"Can I ask you something?" I ventured after a while, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Lily replied, not turning around, her attention focused on the path ahead.

"Why are you going east?"

She hesitated, tension knotting in her shoulders. "I’m trying to find my daughter," she said finally, her voice low. "We got separated when the incursion started up north. I have some friends in Ozryn who might know where to find her."

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to offer. The weight of loss was something I understood all too well. “I hope she’s alright.”

"I’m sure she is," Lily continued, her voice softening. "I don’t like being away from her, but I know she can take care of herself. I’m just being cautious with the elves in the area."

“I’ll help you find her,” I promised, a sudden surge of determination filling me. “Once I’ve done what I came here to do.”

Lily chuckled, a sound tinged with both gratitude and disbelief. “Thanks, kid. But I don’t think we’ll need your help. Tinka can’t hide from me.”

“But I’m indebted to you,” I insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re assisting me during my journey. You don’t have a debt as long as you do that magic thing and slice and dice whatever gets in our way.”

We walked in silence for a while, the forest around us providing a comforting backdrop to our shared grief. There was something about being in nature that made the pain more bearable, as if the trees and the earth could absorb some of the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm us.

After a few hours, we reached a clearing with a small stream gurgling through it. The water was crystal clear, the gentle sound of it flowing over the rocks soothing my frayed nerves. We stopped to rest, filling our water bottles, the cool water a welcome relief against the weight of our thoughts. 

As I splashed some on my face, the chill sent a jolt of clarity through me, a reminder that life continued to flow, regardless of the chaos that swirled around us. And for a brief moment, I felt the edges of my turmoil soften, blending into the rhythm of the world around us.

As we sat by the stream, the water rushing over smooth stones like whispered secrets, Lily reached into her pack and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. She began writing in it with a pen unlike any I had ever seen—a sharp blade at the end, glimmering as it danced across the page without needing a drop of ink. 

“Why are you going to the mountains?” she asked, her voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

“I’m looking for someone,” I replied, staring at the water’s surface, its reflections shifting like memories just out of reach. “Someone important to me said I needed to find her.”

“Let me guess,” Lily sighed, her tone a blend of weariness and knowing. “Naida?”

“How did you…?” 

“She’s the only thing out there worth hunting down,” the hybrid drawled, pulling her hood down to reveal ears the color of rust, tipped in black, and hair that cascaded like ink down her shoulders. “Must be needing Khione. Do you know what for?”

I cleared my throat, the words heavy with significance. “I’m trying to get extra help in the south. I was told they might be able to assist us.”

Lily laughed, but it was a humorless sound, tinged with bitterness. “Naida might. Khione? I doubt it. That old bitch doesn’t do anything except fuck the little whores she keeps in her castle while my friends starve in those mountains.”

I stared at her, taken aback by the rawness of her words, the pain wrapped around them like a vine. “That’s quite a reputation she has.”

Lily’s expression hardened, the air thickening with her disdain. “Reputation? It’s the truth. Khione has power, sure, but it comes with a price. She doesn’t help anyone unless there’s something in it for her. If you’re seeking aid, you’d better be prepared to pay dearly for it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

Lily leaned back against a tree, her gaze drifting to the rushing water, as if searching for answers in its depths. “She’s got a knack for making deals that trap you. You think you’re getting help, but it’s usually a trap. You could end up worse off than before.”

I let her words sink in, the implications wrapping around my mind like a cold fog. “So, what do you suggest? Just forget about it?”

“No,” she said, her voice firm, slicing through my doubts. “I’m just saying to be cautious. If you really think Naida can help, go to her. But if Khione is involved… just be ready for anything.”

“What do you know about Naida?” I pressed, desperate for any insight that might illuminate my path.

“She’s a force to be reckoned with,” Lily replied, her tone shifting slightly, like the wind before a storm. “A protector of the mountains, they say. If anyone can help us, it might be her. But she’s not easily found, and even harder to convince. You’ll need to prove yourself worthy of her time.”

I nodded, determination battling with trepidation in my chest. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lily studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “I believe you. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” I echoed, warmth spreading through me at the reassurance. It was comforting to know I had someone by my side who understood the stakes.

We resumed our journey, the path growing steeper as we ventured deeper into the forest. The sun climbed higher, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and earth—invigorating yet heavy with the weight of our conversations.

As we navigated the terrain, our topic shifted to lighter matters, and I found myself laughing at Lily’s sarcastic quips about the creatures of the forest. Her spirit was contagious, and the laughter felt good, a welcome reprieve from the tension that had settled in my bones.

Eventually, we reached a vantage point overlooking a vast expanse of mountains in the distance. The peaks were shrouded in mist, an ethereal quality lending them an almost otherworldly presence. I could almost feel the pull of Khione’s castle lurking somewhere among them, a siren’s call promising both danger and salvation—a promise that felt too heavy to bear.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, creeping shadows across the ground, we stumbled upon another cave. This one was smaller, cozier, and had a natural chimney that promised to keep the night’s chill at bay. The entrance was framed by thick vines and moss, giving it an almost hidden quality, like a secret the forest had kept for itself. As we stepped inside, the air was cool and damp, a welcome relief from the heat of the day, and soon we had a fire crackling to life, its flickering light casting playful shadows against the damp stone walls.

Settled by the fire, I pulled out the remnants of our meager supplies while Lily rummaged through her pack. The warmth enveloped us, creating an intimate cocoon as we prepared a simple meal from what little we had left. The aroma of the dried meat she had brought wafted into the air, mixing with the earthy scent of the cave.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Lily laughed, a sound rich with amusement that echoed around us, almost like a melody bouncing off the walls.

“Yes. Do you have any nuts?” I replied, attempting to keep my tone casual despite the slight twist of discomfort in my stomach at the thought of what she might offer.

Lily shook her head, still chuckling. “That won’t keep you healthy, little one. Have some rabbit. I killed it yesterday.” 

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. I recoiled as she brought the dried meat closer, the odor hitting me like a wave of something unpleasant—savage and primal. “Ugh,” I flinched away, my face contorting in distaste.

Her laughter deepened, a hearty sound that seemed to vibrate within the cave’s very stones. “Don’t make that face,” she teased, her voice rich with mirth. “I have a pack of nuts and mushrooms in my bag.”

I caught the bag she tossed my way, the soft thud of it landing in my hands almost comforting. “Thanks,” I said, rifling through the contents. “You know, not everyone can be a barbarian like you.”

“Barbarian?” she replied, raising an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Just because I prefer my meals with a bit more substance doesn’t make me a barbarian.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I munched on a handful of nuts, their earthy taste grounding me. “But seriously, rabbit? Did you have to?”

Lily chuckled again, the firelight illuminating her features with a warm glow, casting playful shadows on her face. “You’re too soft. A little meat might toughen you up.”

“I’m plenty tough,” I shot back, more defensively than I intended. “I just don’t see the need to eat something that was hopping around yesterday.”

“Oh, I see. You’re a sensitive soul, aren’t you?” Her sarcasm dripped like honey, thick and sweet, teasing at my vulnerabilities.

“Just practical,” I countered, crossing my arms as I met her gaze. “I like my food to be, you know, not staring at me with big, sad eyes.”

Lily laughed again, a rich, genuine sound that resonated off the cave walls. “You’re a riot. Alright, sensitive soul, eat your nuts. I’ll enjoy my rabbit.” She leaned back against the cave wall, her posture relaxed yet ready.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. “One day, you’ll see the benefits of a vegetarian diet.”

“Doubtful,” she said, a playful challenge in her eyes. “But hey, I’ll give you this—you’ve got guts. I like that.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I replied, feeling an unexpected sense of camaraderie despite our bickering. “I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, you’re just full of compliments tonight,” she quipped, mock bowing as if accepting an award. “What did I do to deserve such praise?”

I laughed, the tension of the day easing like the fire’s warmth. “Just being you, I suppose.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she said, though her eyes sparkled with warmth, a glimmer of something deeper beneath the surface. For a fleeting moment, it felt like we were both trying to shield ourselves from the weight of the world outside, a world filled with uncertainty and danger.

We settled into a comfortable silence, the crackling fire providing a soothing backdrop to our thoughts. Despite the teasing, there was an ease between us, a shared understanding that felt almost sacred in the dim light of the cave. She reminded me of a blend of Cordelia and Thelma—strong yet nurturing, the kind of ally you wished for in times of darkness. 

As I lay down to sleep, the flickering flames began to blur into shadows, and a sense of peace washed over me—something I hadn’t felt in far too long. The nightmare from the night before felt like a distant echo, a whisper that faded with the growing warmth of the fire. I found comfort in the knowledge that whatever challenges awaited, I wouldn’t have to face them alone.

I glanced at Lily, illuminated by the firelight, her features softening as she lost herself in thought. There was a hint of sorrow in the lines around her mouth, a weathered quality I hadn’t fully appreciated until this moment. Her eyes were distant, reflecting something that felt ancient and haunting, as if they held stories of their own.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that swearing is rude?” she barked suddenly, her gaze flicking to me with playful accusation.

I closed my eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Once or twice.”

“Sleep, little one. I’ll try to keep your nightmares away.” Her tone was softer now, as if she understood the weight of my weariness.

My eyes snapped back open at her words. Lily noticed my surprise and smiled gently, a transformation that made her appear ten years younger, the burden of her past momentarily lifted. 

“You were crying,” she said softly, concern lacing her words.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, shame flooding my cheeks, wishing I could pull the memories of my fears back into the depths of my mind.

“I have nightmares, too. One day, I’ll tell you why they haunt me and why they never leave. But for now, let me share how I manage to survive them.” 

Lily pulled a band from her wrist and swept her hair into a messy ponytail. The movement highlighted her tall, pointed ears, a feature that now seemed almost majestic in the firelight. I couldn’t help but wonder about the rest of her—a creature born of both human and something wild, a mixture of strength and vulnerability hidden beneath her baggy clothes.

“On bad mornings, it feels impossible to enjoy anything because I’m terrified it could vanish. So, I play a little game: I make a mental list of every act of kindness I’ve witnessed. I just do it over and over again. It gets tedious, but after doing it for so long, you get used to it. There are worse games to play.”

Her words settled between us, a fragile bridge built from shared pain. Whatever shadows haunted her, it was clear she wouldn’t share them tonight. I was too wrapped up in my own swirling thoughts to consider her horrors—too many fears to confront, too many questions I didn’t want to voice. I didn’t think she was hoping for anything from me, anyway; she seemed content to offer her wisdom without demanding answers in return.

“Wake me if you have them,” I whispered into the darkness, feeling a strange sense of connection in the quiet. “I can try my best to keep yours away, too.”

“Thank you. You’re very sweet,” she replied, and her sincerity made my stomach twist with unease; if only she knew how wrong she was.

I rolled over, facing away from her, the warmth of her words lingering in the air like a promise. “Go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow,” she said, her voice fading into the quiet.

Lily hummed softly, but I couldn’t hear her moving around. Giving up on being social, I closed my eyes and willed myself into sleep. 

As I drifted further away from consciousness, the last thing I saw was the silhouette of a deer gliding through the trees, its antlers twisted into a heart-like shape against the dusky sky. I lay there, watching the creature as I sank deeper into slumber, just on the brink of nothingness when I felt Lily shuffle closer.

“Idiot forgot about a blanket,” she murmured, and suddenly I was enveloped in warmth, her presence a comforting shield against the unknown that lurked outside the cave. 

The warmth wrapped around me like a tender embrace, and I could no longer hold my eyes open. Just before sleep fully claimed me, I felt the stirrings of peace settle into my bones, allowing me to drift away into the safety of dreams—where the forest would guard my heart for just a little while longer.

Translations

Bicce - Female dog (bitch)

Swígan - Quiet

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795 @yunki-yunki-yunki @vskhn016 @keiarajm

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[whalesforhands]

for what i have overlooked

fleeting memories and unsaid words, there’s a beauty in all of them.

HBD GOJO SATORU

“So? So? Wanna spend time with your lovely teacher and tell him all about your training?” A wink that cannot be seen from under his blindfold as he throws out a peace sign, holding it up to his eyes, awaiting the replies of his precious students.

His antics are ignored.

“Panda, that punch needs some work. Loosen your fist a little next time.” She takes a bite of the ice pop, the crunch of the cold treat loud.

“Oh yeah? Inumaki said that I got a mean kick though. Should I try that next time?” The crinkling of plastic as he unwraps the ice cream sandwich, licking his lips.

“Salmon!”

Maki wipes the sweat from her brow, confident grin upon her face. “Yeah, bring it.”

Oh well. Guess he’ll just eat by himself, then. Rummaging through the remains of the plastic bag and digging around, he hums. He was sure he had bought enough— Scooping up all the remaining ice creams they had and dumping it at the counter as he took a phone call.

Oh! There it is! His hand pulls out still chilled plastic, excited grin on his face as he flips it over to inspect the flavour. Like a roulette for ice cream flavours, would he like it? Love it? Hate—

His brows furrow as he looks at the packaging, his eyes squinting at he looks at the tiny prints and lackluster colours. Man, he got one of those old timey flavours…

“And there!” A hand catches the ice cream bar midair. “Red bean flavour for the masses!”

“And my cigarettes?”

“Heh.” He runs a hand through his hair dramatically, swiping hair away from his eyes as he poses with the mentioned item. “The great Gojo Satoru never forgets!”

A plastic packaging is thrown at the girl who seamlessly catches it in one hand, lax smile on her face as she nods in thanks. “The great Gojo Satoru should remember to tie his shoelaces.”

“Wha—?!” That nasty trickster of a woman! His complaint dies on the tip of his tongue when he watches her settle down beside you on that familiar bench, the sun already beginning to set as the blue of the sky starts to fade into a colourway of pink and orange.

Was the day over already? These summer days always seemed like they were far too short.

Watching as you chomp down on the ice cream held to your lips, the cold taking over your teeth as you feel a tingle up your spine. “Mmm… Suguru, I think they changed the flavour on this one.”

“Really?” He leans towards you. “I’ll have a try then—“

“I want a biteeeeeee!~” Satoru has an arm around your shoulders as he drags you in closer towards him, “Pleaseeeeee?” Puppy dog eyes and a whimpered plead, he bought it all, so please?

This… Was meant to be a shared treat between yourself and Geto to compare the red bean ice cream brands. Though, you suppose a variance in your experiment wouldn’t hurt. A peek over at Suguru only catches him rolling his eyes with a smile. That’s a yes, then.

“I’m not quite sure if you’ll like this though, Satoru. It’s a bit different to the ones we usually eat.” You’re slightly worried as you turn to hand him the stick, only for his hand to wrap around yours and aid in personally bringing it to his mouth.

“Don’t you worry about it~” Perhaps you don’t understand yet; but he would take anything as long as it’s from you.

“One bite, Satoru.” Geto is unwittingly firm despite his lax expression, his copper-amethyst eyes watch intently as Gojo starts opening his mouth. “One.”

And one bite he did take, engulfing the entire treat in his mouth.

“Ahh, this greedy—!” Suguru’s arm flies across Shoko to grab onto the ice cream that was about to be swallowed whole, hand immediately around Satoru’s and yours, attempting to pull it away only to end up with empty wooden remains.

You’re too shocked to even react.

“And that’s why I hide my ice cream.” Shoko only nods in, her head against your shoulder as the straw of her iced tea is held in between her lips.

“That was one bite!” He’s speaking through chews as he feels the icy chill seep into his teeth, feeling Suguru smack his shoulder lightly in revenge. “Bleg— Sour!”

Maybe he’s glad that this brand has lasted the test of time, despite the unappealing flavour profile. Maybe— He’ll enjoy it this time?

Gojo Satoru’s grin doesn’t falter as he tears the plastic away with ease, blindfolded eyes staring at the cold treat only momentarily, before he takes a bite.

Oh. It’s still a little too sour for his tastes.

——

“Gojo-sensei! Ya sure you’ll be fine without an umbrella?” Yuuji waves at him from under the umbrella the first-year trio stood, calling out to him from the heavy rain. Does he not want to share with them?

“Aha, don’t worry about a thing, Itadori! Look!” His hand is held out for the three to observe, outstretched and showing off just how perfectly dry it remained despite the pouring rain. Infinity truly was quite the gift.

“Ehhhh?! Gojo-sensei, you’re amazing!”

“Don’t flatter his ego.”

“Ahhh, lucky! He doesn’t have to worry about the rain messing up his hair…”

“Heh, I’m the strongest, after all!” There’s a ringing in his chest, a thump in his heart. “See ya later!” A salute before he departs.

The crowd shifting about him, the patter of the rain against umbrellas and concrete as he walks, easily navigating through as he treks the way back to campus.

He used to love rainy days, you know?

He notices you holding a palm out, letting the rain droplets fall onto your hand as you sigh, staring up at the darkened skies.

“Well, well, well! Look what we got here!” An arm around your shoulders as you hear him laugh from behind you. “Looks like it’ll be raining for quite a bit!”

You only let out a sigh, leaning back into his arm as you pout at the dreary weather. “I didn’t think it would rain this heavily today…” You really should’ve listened when Nanami started squinting at the clear sky and reminded you to take an umbrella.

A hum from the white-haired sorcerer as mischievous blue glint from underneath black frames, the impish grin alluding to something more. “Sayyyyyy, you were only gonna go back to the dorms, right?” He’s starting to unbutton his uniform jacket.

You nod. What… Is he planning?

“Then, let’s go! Brace yourself!” You feel fabric fall softly over your head, your eyesight shrouded in darkness as you feel your hand being grabbed, larger fingers intertwining with your own as you’re dragged forward and out into the unforgiving rain.

It doesn’t take long before you’re both at the entrance of your dorm home, sweating, wet, muddy and messy from the trip. “See?” He holds a thumbs up. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

Your hand still hasn’t loosened its grip on his as you suddenly feel him shiver, a sneeze being let out. It wasn’t bad at all, but you think you’re both about to be sick. You sigh, but thumb grazing over the skin of his hand. “We’re both gonna be sick because of this, you know?” He feels extremely cold.

“And you shouldn’t have given your jacket to me, you don’t look well at all.” His white buttonup had been completely soaked through, water dripping from his head as you stare up at him, removing the wet jacket from your shoulders. A shift in your hands results in you letting go, a whine dying on his lips when he feels your dryer palms go up to his face. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

He could retort, tell you at least he made it back with you in one piece. Though, the way you look at him causes a stutter in his heart, pleading worry and concern in your eyes has him feeling… Guilty. He’s Gojo Satoru- He doesn’t get sick, nobody was ever concerned about his wellbeing till this point. Why would they? He’s one of the greatest. He didn’t have people like you or Suguru, hells, even Shoko—

Maybe he gets it. Maybe this is what the word of ‘love’ means. He should do this again sometime—

“Are you both insane?” Shoko is absolutely unimpressed as she stops in front of the both of you, towels already in hand.

Maybe he is, if he gets to evoke such reactions from you all.

He stares up at those grey skies, his palm having an itching, almost phantom warmth as he feels a subconscious twitch of his lips.

He hopes the rain stops soon.

——

“Ah- He’s waking up.” There’s a hand upon his cheek as he starts to crack open his eyes, smooth skin stroking his own and the usual weight of his sunglasses off his face.

Gentle voices, gentle touches. His nose picks up on the scent of grass, the feel of the summer breeze upon his cheeks, his head against something soft, something comforting.

“Satoru, you finally awake?” He hears a deep chuckle, a gentle voice stroking his ears, another graze of fingers upon his soft face. “You’ve been asleep for almost an hour.”

“Hrmm…” He doesn’t feel like waking up, doesn’t wanna leave this overwhelming warmth.

“Suguru, we should let him sleep a little more.” You were always the soft-hearted one. “I think he deserves it.”

Gojo Satoru thinks he’s deserving of a lot of things, such as his position upon your lap where he naps with comfort. He flips onto his side, enjoying the way you continued to stroke his head, fingers running through snow-white locks.

“Fine, just a little longer. Then it’s my turn.”

He opens his eyes to realize it was another dream. A frequent occurrence that leaves his eyes feeling dry when he lifts his blindfold up, fingers grazing across a wetness to the soft fabric.

Oh.

It hurts to breathe till the point of bruising on the days his lingering regrets stir within him, the swirling uneasiness causing him strife that he long thought he had gotten over.

It’s with those days that he thinks he’s pathetic; made to give up on things he never wanted to let go of, but with those feelings come a forgotten reminder of warmth. The blank lines that had been filled with nothing but those days.

Memories, dreams, hopes and all that was alike. He holds onto them, clawing at the remainder of their existence. A blue of youth that was unlike no other, a spring of sun-filled bloom that he wants to keep.

Because, only then will he be fine alone, wouldn’t he? It serves as a way to keep him together, keep him whole. He has to be.

He’s the strongest, after all.

next

Notes:

Gojo could’ve used Infinity when running through the rain with you. But you wouldn’t have been able to touch him.

He thinks he’s found a newfound taste for red bean ice cream.

[moon-thething]

Heyy, how about a platonic garent+ child! Reader headcanons? Reader sees her as a mother figure and lieks clinging to her, have a nice day yo

Hello anon :) I'm a bit confused by your request, I don't know if you ment to type in garnet or not

But since I don't want to leave you hanging I'll write headcanons for garnet, and if you ment someone else, you can send in another request:)

So sorry for the inconvenience

But, to give some background info

Reader is 5 - 7 years old and doesn't have a mom 👍

Romantic or platonic?: Platonic/romantic

Readers gender: gender neutral

Type: Fluff

Hope you enjoy this :)

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

You two met at the beach, no questions asked

You were just burying your dad in the sand, giggling happily as your dad slowly regretted his life choices

While the gems were not so far away. Amethyst was joking around with Steven while Pearl was desperately trying to find napkins in her bag, and Garnet was just chilling

When Pearl had finally found the napkins she quickly pulled them out if her bag and held them up proudly, but a strong ghust of wind blew the napkins away. Garnet just stood up and went to collect the napkins without another word

While your younger self was looking at your sand masterpiece, you suddenly had the bright idea to run around the beach to find seashells, and so you did

While you ran not that far away from where your dad was, not having enough braincells to look for seashells near the sea, a flying napkin decided to hit your face

You fell down on your butt and pulled the napkin off of your face. And you were shocked to see a woman standing in front of you

She just waved with an awkward smile as you stared at her in awe. You then giggled and stood up as you grabbed her hand and jumped up and down

Garnet looked at you with a confused expression but started to laugh along with you

Then the two of you decided to have a little chat and you explained that you needed seashells to fancy up your dad, or your dad's head

Garnet was more than happy to help you find seashells and so she took you near the sea. Every time a wave would arrive she would lift you up in the air as if you were flying and you would giggle

By the time you collected a good amount of seashells you completely forgot why you collected them in the first place. That is untill you heard your dad's cry's of help

You turned around to see a pelican standing hear him as he just screamed in fear. You giggled and ran towards him, waving goodbye to Garnet as she waved back

And from that point on, every time you'd see Garnet, either it be at the center or at the beach you would run to her nd hug her leg and Garnet was more than happy to hug you back

While the gems, Steven and your dad were all looking at you two with confused expressions although your dad was more panicked, they eventually got used to it

It wasn't any more than a slight interaction, that is untill your dad recognized Steven from somewhere and realized that he was friends with his dad (for the sake of the plot)

And when your dad did realize, you were with Garnet practically every second of the day. And you've gotta say, you do share some amazing memories with her

(I'm only giving one example)

Y/n sat on the couch, rocking back and forth as they impatiently waited for Garnet to return

Footsteps could be heard approaching the living room as Y/n looked towards the door, eventually seeing Garnet walk in with her hands behind her back

Y/n jumped up and down as they stared at Garnet. Garnet smiled warmly as she removed her hands from her back to see her holding three colouring books and a pack of crayon's

Y/n squealed in excitement as they towards her and hugged her leg

"Thank you so much mom!" They yelled, Garnet's heart practically melted t hearing the word 'mom' as she resisted the urge to cry then and there. She suqeazed everything into one hand as she picked you up with her now free one

"No problem." She smiled, kissing their forehead as Y/n let out fits of giggles. They then slowly started to walk towards the kitchen, colouring for the rest of the evening

Good memories indeed. Garnet totally doesn't replay them in her mind half of the time, no she doesn't yes she does

Garnet probably cried when she saw you slowly growing up, not being used to such 'fast growth' since Steven stayed the same

[violetmuses]

Can't Get Enough - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Can't Get Enough - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When Armando Aretas returns to Miami, one familiar face shows up sooner than later.

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky 🏷

======

2024

Traveling around the world pulled strings for quite some time, yet Armando Aretas returned to Miami, Florida on this bright and sunny afternoon.

“What's up, man? I'm parked outside.” Detective Mike Lowrey stepped forward to dap Aretas up.

After facing many questions or encountering secrets over time, Mike would take responsibility here and stand up as Armando's biological father.

“Thanks for picking me up.” I didn't know who else to…” Armando trailed off.

“It's fine.” Mike then completely understands this point, whispering. “I'd feel better if you stayed with us anyway. Someone else might call authorities before you could even settle in.”

“Yeah.” Aretas genuinely struggled to express himself. I'm just…”

“Tired?” Mike asked.

“That's putting it nicely.” Armando shrugged before joining the classic Porsche. “Can we drop it, though? I don't wanna bum you out with my bullshit.”

“That's fair.” Mike attempted to ease the situation once more.

“Yeah.” Armando speaks up again, thankful while air conditioning chilled down the vehicle.

_______

Until further notice, Armando settled in the guest bedroom located upstairs. Very few belongings took space when Aretas organized essentials.

After taking this much-needed shower, Aretas headed downstairs and noticed that Christine Lowrey, Mike's wife, had returned.

“Hey. Did you just get back?” I didn't hear the garage.” Armando already observed different parts of the house.

Mike married this remarkable person named Christine, a physical therapist. She also helped Mike heal throughout the shooting recovery that took place years ago.

“I drove back from work early because you were here, Armando.” Christine smiles.

“What? You didn't need to…” Aretas feels shocked in a quiet way.

“Of course.” Christine then laughed for just a moment. “Ready for lunch?”

“Thank you.” Armando nodded, joining the kitchen table with Mike before Christine sat down.

Peace.

*****

“Time to work.” Driving his classic Porsche, Detective Mike Lowrey pulled up to the Miami Police Department by morning.

“That's our job Armando left the passenger seat.

“Got jokes now?” Mike laughs while entering this well-known precinct.

“No.” Armando declined, walking toward the briefing room to join others.

Right when Armando and Mike genuinely sit down together, one voice called out:

“Nephew!”

Detective Marcus Burnett, Mike's longtime partner and best friend, reached that briefing room this time. Staff members chuckled around this space.

“I know.” Even Mike shook his head.

“Habla demasiado.” Slyly pointing toward Burnett, Armando whispered to Mike and used his native language of Spanish.

“Your Uncle Marcus.” Shrugging, Mike laughs for real.

“Está loco. ¿Recuerdas la fogata?” Aretas expressed the campfire nonsense.

“Yeah.” Mike nodded, ending the conversation before Marcus sat down.

“What'd I miss?” Burnett veiled Skittles in his pocket despite showing up early this morning.

“Uh-uh.” Disappointed, Mike arched his brow toward Marcus.

For once, Armando held back laughter while observing.

When Captain Rita Secada stood behind the podium and began this meeting, everyone settled for business.

Here we go. Aretas thought.

*****

“Seeing an informant today.” Mike gathered with Armando and Marcus in the hallway.

“Cool. Are they coming to the station?” Marcus genuinely questioned his partner.

“Going to her place.” Mike grounded location details. “It's too risky if the public learns our assignment.”

Her? Armando stood puzzled by curiosity this time around. Who could help us with this drug case?

Silent, Armando joined the car, exiting with Lowrey and Burnett to figure everything out.

______

Sunlight warmed all around Florida palm trees that lined up near gorgeous homes.

Within seconds though, Aretas became silent for once.

Navigation signaled your old address.

When that door finally opened, you emerged and sent Armando through an inward tailspin.

His expression turned unreadable for this assignment, but feelings pulled in so many ways.

“Hey, Mike.” You cleared your throat. “I didn't know that y'all would come over so early.”

“Bad timing?” Mike didn't even know what to think.

“Not at all. Just finished cleaning the house.” You declined, silently welcoming Marcus and Armando through. “What's going on?”

“Whenever you're ready, we need some intel, all right?” Mike questioned. “Pushers started running again, especially in clubs this summer.”

“Okay.” You nodded, watching your hands to set the kitchen table for guests. “Let's do it.”

_______

“You good?” Mike noticed immediately that Armando wasn't talking and excused himself from the table.

“We knew each other.” Aretas exposed new information and revealed your bond.

“What, seriously?” Gobsmacked, Mike almost clenched his teeth over Armando's connection to you.

“It's a long story, but yeah.” Aretas went on just a little more. “We met right before my mother escaped prison.”

“Damn…” Mike stepped back through disbelief right now.

“Mike!” Marcus called from the living room out of nowhere.

Returning to that living room, Mike and Armando see Marcus facing pictures on the walls.

Armando smiled, beaming like an adorable goofball throughout various photographs.

“Are y'all together?” Marcus pointed between you and Aretas.

“We broke up.” You say.

“But y'all still have pictures organized around the house!” Marcus pulled theatrics.”Might as well get a dog too.”

“My mother got in the way, but I don't wanna talk about it.” Aretas planned to work instead.

No other choice.

*****

Red and blue overcasts hit various neon hubs that grooved throughout South Beach. The police department just locked down monsters again.

That same night, Armando returned to your house and turned off the news, just grateful that you were okay.

“Can we try again?” You glanced down and realized that Aretas nearly fell asleep on your couch.

“Hmm?” Armando wakes up, grumbling to seek long-awaited kisses.

“Can..we…” You trailed off that response when his now gentle lips met yours and made up for lost time as he smiled for real.

Just when your fingers smoothed his beard, one cell phone rang.

Leaving his warm embrace, you frowned when Armando picked up the call.

“Hello?” Despite so many years passing, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Sorry. Marcus is losing his mind right now.” Mike spoke up.

“No more Skittles?” Armando tried first.

“Uh-uh.” Mike refused that idea. “It's not about snacks. He's looking for you.”

“What's up?” Armando questioned his father while puzzled.

“He's acting really paranoid about your relationship.” Mike told the truth.

“I don't care.” Armando defended himself and only watched, concerned.

“I'll deal with Marcus. Just know that I'm happy for you, all right? Bye.” Mike hung up and left Armando with you once more.

No matter what happens next, you'll never lose each other again.

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Morpheus/Somnina deep dive info

Lord Morpheus is active in lives, he is a kind and gentle god, always having his worshipers/devotees in his mind, he is amazing.

Herbs • Poppy, Poppy trees, poppy seeds, ivory, Dandelion seed, Chamomile, mugwort, lavender, jasmine, passionflower, basil

Animals• Bats, Nocturnal animals, Cats, Fireflies, Moths, Butterfly, Racoons, Wolves, Crows, Halcyon birds, sheep “counting sheep” (my personal thinking)

Zodiac • None, I couldn't find any evidence, perhaps Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, or Pisces because they were born in the winter.

Colors • Black, Blue, Gold, Purple, Silver, Red, some folks like associating neon colors and grey. I also think white.

Crystal• Amethyst, Herkimer Diamond, Scolecite, Hematite, Lapis Lazuli, and gemstones associated with dream magick

Symbols• Horns (he passes through a horn gate each night), Portals, gates, feathers, wings, skeleton keys, stars, night, ivory, tea, baths, sweet coffee

wear in their honor • sleep masks, PJs, slippers.

Diety of• of dreams, of sleep

Patron of• from/shape (his name translates to that, and shapeshifts in dreams.), messages to the unconscious, prophecies to the unconscious, influencing people unconsciously, hypnotizing, dreaming about the future, daydreaming, dream jobs, human shapes, hallucinations of humans, meditation, desire, hope, insomnia, opium-based medication, lucid dreaming, imagination, schizophrenia or schizophrenia-like disorders or illnesses, creativity, astral travel, encouragement, communication, divination

Element• Water, air

Offerings• Honey, honey cake, wine, fish and incense, Melatonin, Sleep-related gemstones and crystals, Skulls, Dream Catchers (ethnically obtained), Any type of stress reliever, and sleep indulgent tea, Ivory and/or Horn items, Sleep-related spells,

The imagery of his associated animals, Feathers, demon imagery(?), imagery of his animals, offerings of things like moths, butterflies, skulls, and feathers (ethically sourced), melatonin gummies, skeleton keys, Dream Pillows (herbal satchels filled with lavender to place under your pillow for better sleep)

Devotional• Track your dreams on a calendar, Keep a dream journal, Get enough sleep, Turn off your electronics 1 hour before bed (gets you in deeper sleep faster), Perform a night ritual, Learn about lucid dreaming and practice it, Write a letter to Morpheus before going to bed, Prayers related to Morpheus, Prophetic inducing herbs, Creating a playlist for him with songs that help you sleep, drink mugwort or chamomile tea before bed, set and try to stick to a night routine, write letters or jokes to him, write stories/a book, wear or dress your bed in his associated color, keep crystals for him on your bed or bedside table, have a bath or shower before bed, speak to him before you sleep, go to a sleepover to his honor, washing your bed sheets, cleaning up ur bed, try making your own melatonin, practice divination, try controlling ur dreams

Ephithets• Μορφευς, Morpheus, Shaper of Dreams, Sandman, Mildest of the Gods, Balm of the Soul, Oneiros, Kai’Ckul, Lord L’Zoril, Shaper of Forms, Lord Shaper, Prince of Stories (The Sandman, Neil Gaiman), Dream Giver, Sleep’s Guest, Lord Shaper, Father of Dreams, Lord of the Night, He Who Tells Mortals Stories,  Formshaper, Shadowmaker

Equivalents (alike not the same)• Niorun (Norse), Angus (Celtic), Caer (Celtic), Bes (Egypt), Tutu (Egypt), Morpheus (Greek), Somnina (Norse).

Signs their reaching out• Sudden floating in dreams, better dreams, sleeping better, seeing him in dreams.

Vows/omans• Perhaps wedding vows.

Number• 1, 6, 7

Morals• Morally lawfully neutral follows the gods' bidding.

Courting• no one, but is seen as Iris's husband in some literature,

Past lovers/crushes• I couldn't find any, I think he is Ace? But that is not anyone's business. He is ‘said’ to date Iris because of always being togetherer 

Personality• Morpheus is a very chill and comprehensive God. He’s understanding and he’s happy to help out if he can. He doesn’t ask for much when you worship him, as long as you’re making an effort he’s fine.

Home• Erebus, in the Underworld

Mortal or immortal • Immortal 

Fact• Some say they were able to “heal”, 

Curses• Insomnia, your dream of the ‘good future’ being wrong, your hopes and dreams crashing down, no dreams (If u like your dreams), feeling anger towards you in dreams and just in general. Your baby wakes up with a nightmare. The back/neck problems you wake up with.

Blessings• Good sleep, having good dreams, and your children going to sleep.

Roots• Ancient Greece, born probably in Tarturas

Friends• Iris, Zeus, Hermes, Hera, messengers in general.

Parentage• Pasithea and Hypnos, some say he came from Hypnos asexually, some say from Nyx asexually, I think Nyx.

Siblings• Oneiroi, Icelus, Phobetor, Phantasus

Pet• None.

Children • None 

Appearance in astral or gen• often depicted with wings, he changes into whatever shape is needed at a given moment, decided as a young man in art, and has one ear with wing and one to hear with. He looks like he has short hair.

Festivals • I couldn't find any, I would say hibernation month, and just celebrate being able to sleep when animals are hibernating.

Season • winter 

Day • I would say Saturday because I get the most sleep on Saturday, no school, and no worries, I couldn't find a historic one, or just make a day for him, many people do that for minor gods.

Status• Greek Minor god/personification, a part of the Oneiroi, and the leader of the Oneiroi. plays a major role in day-to-day life. He is a Cthonic deity

What angers them • Insulting them, 

Music they like• I would think Sleep Music, Sleep Asmr

What they like • sleep.

What they dislike• I would say physical touch since he disappears all the sudden when he is almost being touched, I think he only touches those he ‘is okay with’ as a sign of trust or adornment because I heard a person back then say they use to get tapped by them

Planet• Moon (phase new)

Tarot cards• The Four of Swords and the Tower, message card (based on sleep and messages, each their own.)

Reminds me of• sleep, the good resting kind of sleep 

In my opinion • they are pretty rad, and strangely I've been having shit sleep, ain't he just a sweetheart.

Scents/Inscene • Opium, Lavender, Jasmine, Chamomile, Sandalwood, and any other calming scents

Prayers• 

1.

Ever-shifting Morpheus, lord of the Oneiroi who bring us our dreams, true or false. Morpheus, swift-soaring courier, twilight messenger of the gods, kind one, dweller in the shadowed land of dreams, dark-winged god who shapes the visions of the night, who tells the tales that must be told, who strips us bare of secrets, who clothes hard truths in subtle raiment, child of the black night, child of the shrouded dark, in the realm of illusion you are king. Morpheus, harbinger of change, concealer of clues, you bury bits of truth among our wishes and fancies; with your aid can we see into the mist of the unknown, with your aid can we find the hidden pieces of the self. Morpheus, I praise and honor you.

2.

With a whisper I call you, o Morpheus,  lord of dreams, greatest amongst the Oneiroi. I call to you as Hypnos draws near.

Phantasos, ancient messenger who  crafts wonder into form who conjures in our minds a tapestry otherworldly. Greatest molder and master of lights,  many-shaped, you cross the night  and take on any face or voice any hue or sound you so desire. I ask you, my lord: shield me from pain  and fear in my dreams, let no anguish burden my heart as I sleep. This only I request: that within your great creations I may rest  and through your hand I may find safe haven. That my words may reach you, o Morpheus  whispered though they may be as Hypnos draws near.

Links/websites/sources •https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morpheus

https://www.thecollector.com/morpheus-greek-god/https://www.britannica.com/topic/Morpheus-Greek-mythology https://www.britannica.com/topic/Hypnos https://despena.gr/morpheus-the-ancient-greek-god-of-dreams/https://kreweofmorpheus.clubexpress.com/content.aspx?page_id=22&club_id=174762&module_id=305302 https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends-europe/morpheus-greek-god-dreams-who-delivered-messages-gods-mortal-world-002318#google_vignette How Ancient Egyptians Interpreted Dreams - UnEarthed Penn Dream Angus: The Celtic God of Dreams (The Myths) - Amazon.comAmazon.com Caer Ibormeith - Thoughts on PapyrusThoughts on Papyrus Who is Niorun? - Northern Tradition Paganismhttps://greekpagan.com/tag/morpheus/

HUGE HELP FROM

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.