#as the raven flies part 8

[autisticlilith]

Something that always struck me about this 'fight' is that it felt really one-sided. Not because the Raven Beast is bigger, but because she's also way more aggressive. We see throughout the show that Eda in her Owl Beast form acts mostly on instinct (and her inner beast, once she starts talking to it, seems to just be hungry or cranky most of the time). We don't get much insight into how Lilith copes with the curse (like none at all after this), so this is going to be a lot of inference.

Off the top, I would like to reiterate that Hayley Wong has repeatedly asked that nobody repost or edit her art without permission. I'm going to be referring to stuff from the boards in this post, so here's the link if you want to look for yourself.

So, in this episode, Eda and Lilith are both angry—specifically at Gwendolyn, and with good reason. They both end up turning into beasts due to a combination of that anger, stress, and the fact their mom thought she was "helping" by taking away their medication.

But here is where they differ. Eda was angry about the current situation: her mom refusing to respect her choices, and causing unnecessary harm to her all day. And Luz even joined in. As Eda says, she has a right to be upset, though I don't think she meant to lose control over the beast.

That's just what happens when she reaches her limit. And she knows her limits, she's been dealing with this curse for 30 years!

Meanwhile, Lilith has been dealing with the curse for... a few weeks, at most? Unless you count dealing with the guilt of cursing Eda as part of that. We see that she's quite unaware of the effects of the curse, as she experienced some symptoms for the first time this very day. She essentially gets told to take an elixir if she starts feeling stressed, and then is left in the house to stew in her guilt and insecurity all day.

Gwen's lukewarm greeting, and the realization that she's paid consistent visits to Eda over the years, is enough to send Lilith into a downward spiral. She starts stress-eating ice cream, and makes cruel comments about King's dad abandoning him (a clear case of projection, and I don't think he really internalizes it after this episode, but seriously that's no way to talk to your 8-year-old nephew), and unfortunately the only voice of reason around is Hooty. Well, he tried.

I want to note here that she doesn't cry. She mopes, she complains, she gets rude and cynical; these are all things we've seen her do before. But she doesn't allow herself to honestly express her feelings, her wants and needs. What's she gonna say? "Hey Mom, can you please pay attention to me?" You can't just ask for things like that. And she's a grown adult, she's more mature than this. She was the head of the Emperor's Coven, for Titan's sake. Didn't she get enough attention there to last a lifetime? And didn't she learn how to repress all her useless emotions and craft a perfect persona to hide behind until she could no longer tell the mask from her face?

She realizes she's indulged her worst thoughts a little too hard when the feathers start popping up, and goes to take an elixir and calm down...

And there are no elixirs.

And she panics. She has no coping strategies for this. She doesn't even know what's going to happen to her, only that it's going to be really, really bad.

It has to be terrifying, and painful... and maybe, just a little bit deserved? This is the fate she forced upon Eda, after all.

We don't see any signs that she damaged the house after she turned, unlike the havoc Eda caused back in The Intruder. King runs to get help, because Eda or Luz would know what to do better than he does, and Raven Beast Lilith seems to pursue him, but she's not after him. She goes after Eda directly. There is no distraction (King also notes that light glyphs had no effect on her), there is no behaviour that can be explained as animal instinct. There is a violent, visceral anger, and instead of addressing its source, she flies out there to take it out on Eda.

This is why I don't buy the interpretation that Gwen started favouring Eda only after the curse. By that point, Lilith was an older teenager almost out of the house, and it's completely reasonable for the parents to be focusing more on the younger kid with a new mysterious illness. I think Eda was always the favourite, or at least got more attention in ways that made Lilith feel overlooked. Part of it was that Eda got in trouble more, whereas Lilith was usually quiet and well-behaved, so everyone just decided that Eda needed more help (which she didn't necessarily want) and Lilith needed none. Lilith got very good at needing nothing. So good that instead of talking to her sister about their impending duel, she decided to curse her in the dead of night instead. And then to keep it a secret until she found a way to undo it, because she never wants to upset anyone or cause a scene. And then to give 30 years of her life to an evil man's crooked system for nothing—less than nothing, she's only going to realize later.

Lilith's breakdown isn't about the fact Gwen is paying attention to Eda again. That's just the trigger for a lifetime of repressed emotions bursting to the surface all at once, and it's been coming for a while.

The Owl Beast seems to be mostly defending herself. At a few points she tries to flee, but the Raven Beast catches her. The Raven Beast is malicious, with exaggerated expressions of rage and what can only be described as cruel glee when she inflicts pain. This seems to come out of nowhere... but only if you haven't been paying attention to Lilith.

We know what Lilith is like at her worst. It wasn't even that long ago she threatened Luz's life in order to capture Eda. All while convinced that she was doing the right thing. She doesn't even have that shield now. She doesn't have much of anything, really, except her sister who refused to leave her out in the cold even after everything she's done. And this is how she repays that trust...?

We also know that Lilith wasn't in control of her actions as the Raven Beast. But that doesn't mean the beast was just doing beast things. I believe it was acting directly on Lilith's intrusive thoughts. Hurting Eda was her greatest shame, and the idea that she could do it again is a constant fear that she has. Unlike Eda, who has long been seen by others as a monster and had to fight her internalized shame about it, Lilith considers herself a monster while everyone around her is unaware of her inner turmoil. She's afraid of herself; she thinks her feelings are ugly and violent and unmanageable. And so that's what they became.

There was a sequence in the storyboards that was cut from the episode, presumably for time, where Gwendolyn tries to use a beastkeeping spell in order to communicate with her beast-daughters. It proves completely ineffective, so she goes to plan B, which is just trying to talk to them like a normal person (also in the boards, Gwen summons firebees to lift roof tiles for her to walk on, which I'm glad got changed to the tiles themselves being flying creatures. it's less distracting). There was something really affecting about watching her try to do things her own way one last time before finally admitting that she's failed the both of them. It painted the picture of this whole family who never talk about anything that's difficult or painful.

Then the scene plays out the way it does: Gwen's words get through to Eda, and allow her to finally face the beast and have an important revelation about herself.

And Lilith? Well, for all the violence she just showed, she breaks down in tears the second she is shown loving care.

When they've changed back, her anger is gone. There is no sign of the monster; there is only a sad, lonely woman who hasn't allowed herself to cry in so long that she almost forgot how. But she's safe now, and she's seen, and she's allowed this healthy expression of emotion. She collapses in the arms of her mother and sister.

After this, Lilith and Gwen had an off-screen conversation, where Lilith admitted she was the one to curse Eda, and decided that she was going to move back home. I could write a whole other post on that first point, but we've reached the end of the episode. I think a major reason why Lilith wanted to stay with mom and dad instead of with Eda is because she's afraid of hurting Eda again. Any time the curse acts up, she becomes a danger to the people around her, but especially to Eda, because of how much of her energy and guilt and shame has been focused around Eda over the years. She needs some time away while she figures out how to deal with the curse, to recover and build up her own identity. And of course, to build the relationship with her parents that she needed as a kid. Better late than never.

[the-mortuary-witch]

DEITY MASTERLIST (PART TWO)

📿 Kuan Yin

Goddess of: mercy and compassion

Culture: Chinese/Buddhist

Symbols: vase, rosary, willow branch, fish basket, and pearls

Plants: lotus, willow, and bamboo

Animals: horse, peacock, dragon, and birds

Colours: white

Tarot: Judgment

Offerings: oranges, pomegranates, spices, oolong tea, incense, and love and compassion for both yourself and others

🌱 Lada

Goddess of: spring, beauty, love, and fertility

Culture: Slavic

Symbols: Lada Star, bells, and Spring Equinox

Plants: linden, dandelion, peony, and birch

Animals: lark, deer, ant, and eagle

Colours: red and white

Tarot: Page of Cups and The Lovers

Offerings: honey, music, mead, apples, sweets, lemon balm, cherries, and chestnuts

🌉 Lilith

Goddess of: love, demons, beauty, wisdom, life, rebirth, fertility, motherhood, inner-strength, illumination, mysteries, spiritual initiation, the night, and The Evening Star

Culture: Demonic

Symbols: sword, pentagram, scythe, moon, dragon, snake, crossroad, dark moon, and pentacle

Plants: apple, poisonous plants (belladonna, hemlock, and mugwort), sandalwood, rose, dandelion, red hibiscus, witch hazel, lilac, and patchouli

Animals: black cats, snakes, owls, dogs, spiders, bats, and goats

Colours: red, black, purple, blue, green, silver, and gold

Tarot: The Devil

Offerings: black candles, black stones, or black crystals, honey, champagne, seductive perfume, fancy jewelry, tea, exercise, having sex and/or masterbating, swords and daggers, pomegranates, dark chocolate, sex toys or other items related to sex and pleasure, dragon’s blood, flowers and herbs: lilies, red roses, sage, basil, mugwort, and rose, dancing, red wine, clay, depictions of owls, snakes, cats, dogs, bats, dragons, and spiders, mirrors, apples, red or black silk, and poetry.

🤘 Loki

God of: mischief and trickery

Culture: Norse

Symbols: serpents, wolves, ax, raven, masks, fire, Bjarken and Logr Runes, fishing nets, earthquakes, infinity snake and ouroboros, number 8, chaos star, runes that spell out his name: Laguz, Othala, Kenaz, Isa as well as the rune Hagalaz, and Helmet of Dread or the Helmet of Horror

Plants: mistletoe, birch, common Haircap moss (Loki’s Oats), bentgrass (Loki’s Grass), cinnamon, dandelion, beech, blackthorn, elder, elm, ivy, juniper, mullein, thistle, mint, holly, cedar, juniper, elder, clove, patchouli, tobacco, willow, and yew

Animals: salmon, crows, , ravens, falcon, vulture, flies, goats, flea, horses, wolves, foxes, and spiders

Colours: green, gold, black, violet, yellow, orange, and red

Tarot: The Fool, The Tower, The Devil, The Wheel of Fortune, Page of Cups, and Seven of Swords

Offerings: candles, especially black ones, incense, a musky or mysterious scent would be appropriate, red fruits or flowers, gems or metals, herbs, such as dill, ginger, and mugwort, art or poetry, toys, such as the ones you used to play with as a kid, acts of chaos, subversion, or mischief, flowers: daisies, roses, and lilies, crystals, hanging mistletoe at Yuletide, foods and drinks: sweet foods, alcohol, spicy rum, candy, mulled wine, chocolate with nuts or funny names, spongecake, coffee or other caffeinated beverages, honey, and pastries, knives and daggers, doing something you are scared of (safely), and cinnamon.

🌅 Lucifer

God of: illumination, light, darkness, change, rebirth, challenges, innovation, logic, truth, knowledge, wisdom, strategy, persuasion, revolution, luxury, pleasure, freedom, The Arts and The Morning Star (“Morning Star” is another name for the planet Venus)

Culture: Demonic, Pagan, and Greco-Roman

Symbols: Sigil of Lucifer, The Morning Star, violins and fiddles, dragons, wings, serpents, black goats, inverted pentagram, light, and the pentacle.

Plants: belladonna, mulberry, patchouli, myrrh, min, tobacco, marigold, lilies, hyacinth, rosemary, and black poppies, lavender, mint, blackberries, sage, apples, pomegranates, lilac, rose, black pepper, hyssop, gardenia, geranium, garlic, yarrow, and cypress.

Animals: black animals in general, snakes, spiders, ravens, wolves, dragons, eagles, crows, goats, bats, rats, moths, flies, peacocks, insects, and swans.

Colours: blue, red, black, gold, emerald green, and silver.

Tarot: The Devil.

Offerings: candles or torches, sweet treats like dark chocolate or pastries, red, black, or dead roses, incense like sage or cinnamon, red wine, whiskey, especially Jack Daniels, champagne, pomegranate/pomegranate juice, black tea, especially earl grey, cooked goat meat, venison, apples, honey, good quality cigars, tobacco, daggers and swords, silver rings, emeralds and emerald jewelry, goat horns, black feathers, seductive colognes, crow skulls, bone dice, devotional poetry and artwork, and classical music, especially violin.

🦁 Lugh

God of: the Sun, The Arts, storms, The Harvest, oaths, Kings, justice, craftsmanship, smithcraft, light, and warriors

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: spear, harp, and slingshot

Plants: apple, oak, hazel, holly, marigold, goldenrod, sunflower, carnation, rose, gorse, bay, basil, allspice, rosemary, and cinnamon 

Animals: lion, horse, raven, stag, crow, hound, and lynx

Colours: brown, gold, yellow, green, red, and blue

Tarot: The Emperor, Justice, Strength, The Sun, and Suit of Wands

Offerings: wine, mead, apple cider, corn, bread, apples, berries, potatoes, beer, harvested fruits and vegetables, corn dolls, cloves, gorse flowers, and handmade crafts

🪐 Ma'at

Goddess of: truth, justice, cosmic order, harmony, wisdom, morality, and balance

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: scales, ostrich feathers, Ankh

Plants: papyrus

Animals: vulture and ostrich

Colours: purple and black

Tarot: Justice, Temperance, and Judgment

Offerings: no drugs and alcohol, cold water, tea with milk, dates, plums, fish, chicken, olive oil, vinegar, hummus, barley biscuits, reeds, gold jewelry, and white linen.

🦭 Manannan Mac Lir

God of: the sea, weather, navigation, and Guardian of the Otherworld

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: cups, cloak, a silver branch with three golden apples on it, and mermaids

Plants: alder, apple, hazel, blackberry, bramble, reed, meadow grass, yellow flowers, and seaweed

Animals: horse, pig, cow, seal, crane, swan, boar, dog, dolphin, sea horse, and whale

Colours: blue, silver, and gold

Tarot: The Chariot

Offerings: yellow flowers, sea water, bread, ale, and mead.

🌒 Máni

God of: personification of the Moon and protector of children and the mentally ill

Culture: Norse

Symbols: silver, the Moon, and astrology

Plants: jasmine, carnations, night-blooming flowers, and aromatic flowers

Animals: horse, rabbit, and wolf

Colours: blue, silver, black, lavender, and white

Tarot: The Moon

Offerings: peppermint-flavored sweets, peppermint Tea, angel food cake, relaxing tea, and salt

♟️ Marduk

God of: justice, compassion, war, healing, magic, storms, and agriculture

Culture: Mesopotamian 

Symbols: lightning, war chariot, and weapons

Plants: grain

Animals: horse, dog, dragon, and eagle

Colours: gold

Tarot: The Emperor

Offerings: beer, ale, daggers, golden jewelry, bread and grains, coffee, artwork and poetry, feathers, meat, and fruit.

🕯️ Medea

Goddess of: Witch and Priestess of Hecate, invoke for justice, vengeance, and protection

Culture: Greek

Symbols: poisons, cauldrons, and golden fleece

Plants: juniper, olive, and wolf’s bane

Animals: dragon and snake

Colours: gold and white

Tarot: The Magician

Offerings: wine, frankincense, milk, honey, poisons, artifacts of Witchcraft, flowers, and snake and dragon imagery.

🤰 Mokosh

Goddess of: spinning, weaving, fiber arts, moisture, shearing, protection, childbirth, spell casting, fate, fertility, life, death, and rebirth

Culture: Slavic

Symbols: mokosh tones, rain, solar and earthly symbols

Plants: local seasonal plants

Animals: sheep, cat, and horse

Colours: gold, white, and red

Tarot: The Empress

Offerings: personal needlework, wool and flax, grains and bread, salt, oilseeds, dairy, berries, eggs (especially Pisanki), porridge, milk, honey, herbs, fruits, vegetables, a lock of your own hair, and locally sourced seasonal crops.

☃️ Morana

Goddess of: winter, death, and rebirth

Culture: Slavic

Symbols: poppets (spell dolls) and water

Plants: evergreen, berries, grass, rosemary, cypress, wormwood, mandrake, and elderberry

Animals: snake

Colours: white, red, black, and grey

Tarot: Death

Offerings: tea, water, rocks, bones alcoholic beverages, bread, oats, seeds, fruit, and homemade foods and baked goods.

🪄 Morgan le Fay

Goddess of: Witchcraft

Culture: Welsh/Arthurian

Symbols: artifacts of Witchcraft

Plants: honeysuckle, henbane, reed, aspen, oak, and willow

Animals: crow, crane, raven, black dog, horse, cow, and wolf

Colours: red, black, and lavender

Tarot: The Moon and The Magician

Offerings: red ribbons, crow and raven feathers, whiskey, rum.

✊ Nemesis 

Goddess of: retribution, fairness, and Punisher of Hubris

Culture: Greek

Symbols: sword, lash, dagger, scales, and apple branch

Plants: Apple Tree, Thistle

Animals: griffin and goose

Colours: red, black, silver, gold

Tarot: Justice

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, fruit, honey, milk, feathers, apple seeds, apple blossoms, bones, scales, chains, daffodils and narcissus flowers.

😷 Nergal

God of: war, death, plagues and disease

Culture: Mesopotamian

Symbols: lion-headed Mace and sword

Plants: thistle, grapefruit, and pomegranate

Animals: lion, bull, and bat

Colours: red, black, silver, and gold

Tarot: The Tower, The Devil, and Death

Offerings: animal bones, thorn branches,  bitter lemonade, absinthe, and pomegranate juice.

🏋️ Nike

Goddess of: victory

Culture: Greek

Symbols: balm branch, wings, a wreath, sash, and lyre

Plants: palm tree and laurel tree

Animals: horse

Colours: silver, gold, and blue

Tarot: Wheel of Fortune, Justice, and Strength

Offerings: feathers, trophies, medals, palm branches or leaves, and athletic equipment.

🪴 Ninhursag

Goddess of: the Earth, motherhood, childbirth, fertility, nourishment, agriculture, and vegetation

Culture: Mesopotamian

Symbols: omega symbol, bow, and mace

Plants: all grown vegetation

Animals: Cow, Lion, Fish, Serpent

Colours: green, gold, white, and silver

Tarot: The World, The Empress, Suit of Pentacles, and Queen of Pentacles

Offerings: wine, beer, fresh water, cooked fish, eggs, vegetarian foods, bread, honey, butter, myrrh, and all flowers.

🐚 Njord

God of: the sea, the wind, abundance, and wealth

Culture: Norse

Symbols: ships

Plants: avens, ferns, oak, oak moss, polypody, verbena, rosemary, reeds, and bay

Animals: fish and aquatic creatures

Colours: blue

Tarot: King of Cups

Offerings: fish, seafood, pork, chocolate coins, sea salt chocolate, dark beer, gin, golden items, beads, shells, tobacco, and fishing gear.

🌃 Nut

Goddess of: night 

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: Ankh and water pot

Plants: sycamore and fig

Animals: boar, cow, vulture, and hippo

Colours: dark blue

Tarot: The Star

Offerings: milk, cool water, star-shaped foods, blue goldstone, and blue flowers

🌌 Nyx

Goddess of: the night 

Culture: Greek

Symbols: crescent moon, mist, darkness, and stars

Plants: poppies, night blooming lilies, moon flowers, and gladiolus

Animals: owl, crow, and bat

Colours: dark blue and black

Tarot: The Star

Offerings: milk, black coffee or tea, dark chocolate, silver jewelry, dragon fruit, dew gathered before the sun rises, wine, dark beer or liquors, and starry and celestial items.

📖 Odin

God of: wisdom, healing, death, royalty, the gallows, frenzy, knowledge, war, battle, victory, sorcery, poetry, and Runic alphabet

Culture: Norse

Symbols: valknut, right-legged horse (Sleipnir), wolves, ravens, spear (Gungnir), and the Othala Rune

Plants: mugwort, plantain, wormwood, chamomile, pine, apple, fennel, juniper, elfwort, and wotan’s herb

Animals: wolf, raven, snake, bear, and horse

Colours: grey, deep blue, and black

Tarot: The Hermit, The Magician, and The Hanged Man

Offerings: red wine, mead, beer, ale, quality alcohol, whiskey, smoked salmon, red meat, beef, leeks, asparagus, garlic, and honey

💦 Ọṣun / Oshun

Goddess of: water, purity, fertility, love, sensuality, freshwater, wealth, diplomacy, and The Osun River

Culture: Yoruba

Symbols: seashells, and amber beads

Plants: cinnamon, sunflowers, oranges, yellow squash, marigold, pumpkin, rosemary, and lantana

Animals: peacock, vulture, catfish, river fish in general, cricket, leopard, and crocodile

Colours: white, gold, amber, yellow, and coral

Tarot: The Empress

Offerings: honey (taste before you offer it) , bowl of water, flowers, seashells, beauty items, chamomile tea, cooked shrimp and spinach, yellow and orange fruits and vegetables, sliced orange drizzled with tasted cinnamon honey.

⚰️ Osiris

God of: the Underworld, death, resurrection, fertility, and agriculture

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: crook and flail, atef crown, ostrich feathers, mummy gauze, and djed

Plants: willow, tamarisk tree, and many types of houseplants

Animals: bull, ostrich, and dog

Colours: black and green

Tarot: The Emperor, The Hierophant, The Lovers, The Hanged Man, Death, and Judgment

Offerings: green and black crystals, bread, beer, beef, bird meat, and nice clothing

🌫️ Ọya

Goddess of: weather, death and rebirth, a psychopomp, and patron of the Niger River

Culture: Yoruba

Symbols: lightning, sword, machete, and fly-whisk

Plants: akoko tree, camwood, camphor, cypress, marigold, and mimosa

Animals: water buffalo, antelope, sheep, and locust

Colours: purple, burgundy, and the rainbow

Tarot: Strength, The High Priestess, and The Empress

Offerings: starfruit, black-eyed peas, plums, purple grapes, mine eggplants is a traditional offering (or one eggplant sliced into nine pieces), and red wine

🐐 Pan

God of: the wild, shepherds, flocks, rustic music, fertility, hunters, mountains, forests, and meadows

Culture: Greek

Symbols: panpipes

Plants: Coriscan Pine, Water-reed, Pine Trees

Animals: goat

Colours: green, brown, and purple

Tarot: The Fool, The Lovers, The Devil, King of Pentacles, and Page of Pentacles

Offerings: pine cones, pine branches, animal bones, musical instruments (especially Woodwinds), milk, honey, and lamb or goat meat

🌋 Pele

Goddess of: volcanoes, fire, Land lightening

Culture: Hawaiian 

Symbols: volcano, fire, and lava

Plants: ohi’a lehua, lehua lower, strawberry, sugar cane, tobacco, coconut, and pineapple

Animals: Hawaiian honeycreeper, sea turtle, fish, and white dogs

Colours: red, orange, yellow, green, and black

Tarot: The Tower and Suit of Wands

Offerings: fruits, flowers, forest plants, berries, vegetables, gin, and cigars

⚱️ Persephone

Goddess of: the Underworld and spring

Culture: Greek

Symbols: pomegranate, grain, torch, and flowers

Plants: asphodel wheat, willow, narcissus, lily, ivy, lily of the valley, daisy, and lavender

Animals: deer, bat, black ram, parrot, and monkey

Colours: green, black, light blue, purple, magenta, indigo, and yellow

Tarot: The Hermit, The Hanged Man, Death, Judgment, and Knight of Pentacles

Offerings: pomegranates/pomegranate juice, honey, floral tea, breads and sweets, flower crowns or arrangements, dark chocolate, flowers, crushed mint, animal bones, jewelry, and/or your artwork

🌊 Poseidon

God of: the sea, water, horses, and earthquakes

Culture: Greek

Symbols: trident

Plants: pine tree and wild celery

Animals: fish, dolphin, horse, and bull

Colours: blue, teal, green, and silver

Tarot: King of Cups and Suit of Cups

Offerings: ocean water, honey, olive oil, seaweed, white wine poured into water, wild celery, homemade seafood, seashells, sea salt, coral, mint, and sand

☀️ Ra

God of: creator god, and the sun

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: sun disk, ankh, , and sceptre

Plants: citrus fruits, marigold, sunflower, papyrus, daisy, and lotus

Animals: falcon, lion, and eagle

Colours: yellow, gold, orange, red, and white

Tarot: The Emperor and The Sun

Offerings: fruit juice, citrus fruits, honey, water, beer, wine, bread, barley, figs, dates, chocolate, chicken or duck, beef, and frankincense.

🚢 Rán

Goddess of: the sea

Culture: Norse

Symbols: Fishing Nets, Stormy Seas

Plants: beech, buckthorn, elder, elm, ivy, juniper, willow, and yew

Animals: aquatic Animals

Colours: black an sea-green

Tarot: Queen of Cups

Offerings: clean up the ocean, seashells, fishing with a net, seafood, gold, coins, sea rocks, flowers, sand, seawater, bread? cakes, and mead

🐎 Rhiannon

Goddess of: the moon, horses, songbirds, wind, gates, and horseshoes

Culture: Welsh

Symbols: the moon, horseshoes, waning moon phases, gates, the winds, and the number 7

Plants: cedar, pine, narcissus, daffodils, pansies, rosemary, sage, bay, lavender, and all white flowers

Animals: horse, frog, dog, songbird, dragon, badger, and hummingbird

Colours: green, silver, black, white, grey, red, maroon, and brown

Tarot: The Moon

Offerings: soft-sounding music, a white candle with the number 7 carved into it, white flowers, apples, willow, ivy, evergreens, caring for horses, caring for dogs, and studying liminal spaces and astral work

💀 Santa Muerte

Goddess of: healing, protection, financial wellbeing, and the afterlife

Culture: Mexican

Symbols: scythe, globe, scales of justice, and oil lamp

Plants: fresh flowers, apples, and marigolds

Animals: owl, dogs, cats, dove, crows, and snakes

Colours: red, white, black, blue, and green

Tarot: Death

Offerings: cash, cigars, apples, tequila, cannabis, fresh water, candles, candy, fruit, roses, and bread

🌙 Selene

Goddess of: the Moon

Culture: Roman

Symbols: crescent, torch, chariot, billowing cloak, bull, stars, moon, horse, lunar cycle, torch, and bull horns

Plants: willow, moonflower, lavender, wisteria, oak, lilac, birch, rose, dandelion, and jasmine

Animals: horse, bull, mule, and ox

Incense: frankincense, rosemary, guaiac, orris root, and tonka bean

Colours: silver, blue, white, and grey

Tarot: The Moon, The Star, and Temperance

Offerings: white foods, moon water, dew, glitter/shiny objects, olive oil, flowers, fruit, moon-shaped things, water, honey, nephalia (wineless libation), milk, statues of horses, cakes, and crystals (moonstone, quartz, selenite, and pearl)

🦁 Sekhmet 

Goddess of: war, destruction, healing, divine wrath, fire, and the sun

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: the sun, scimitar, ankh, the desert, and pomegranates

Plants: carnation, rose, cloves, cinnamon, juniper, and orange blossoms

Animals: lion and cobra

Colours: red, gold, yellow, and white

Tarot: Strength, The Tower, and The Sun

Offerings: red wine, rum, beer, meats, bones, tobacco, wild cat skulls, weapons like daggers and swords, pomegranates, spicy foods, gold Jewelry, red Flowers, milk, blackberries, raspberries, mushrooms, and bread

💣 Set

God of: the sky, storms, the desert, disorder, war, foreigners, and a trickster God

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: was sceptre and ankh

Plants: lettuce

Animals: hippopotamus, crocodile, scorpion, snapping turtle, wild pig, and donkey

Colours: red

Tarot: The Chariot, Death, and The Devil

Offerings: beer, whiskey, red wine, spicy foods, red meats, lettuce, shellfish, maces and daggers, bird eggs, cherries, dark chocolate, and shiny things

🪞 Sif

Goddess of: grain and fertility

Culture: Norse

Symbols: golden hair, loom, and mirror

Plants: birch, chamomile, fir, hawthorn, mugwort, rose, and willow

Animals: songbirds

Colours: gold and green

Tarot: Suit of Pentacles and Queen of Pentacles

Offerings: beer, honey, mead, grain, and bread

🎿 Skaði

Goddess of: winter, wilderness, mountains, bowhunting, and skiing

Culture: Norse

Symbols: skis, bow and arrows, snow, mountains, frost, and snowshoes

Plants: beech, blackthorn, elder, elm, ivy, juniper, mullein, and willow

Animals: wolf

Colours: white and brown

Tarot: The Hermit and Temperance

Offerings: vodka, traditional Scandinavian foods, meat from hunted animals (rabbit, deer, etc.), animal pelts, animal bones, and snow Water

🌞 Sol / Sunna

Goddess of: the Sun

Culture: Norse

Symbols: the Sun and gold

Plants: chamomile, cinnamon, corn, daisy, marigold, citrus fruits, rosemary, sunflower, and wheat

Animals: horse

Colours: gold, red, yellow, orange, white, and green

Tarot: The Sun

Offerings: mead, honey, bread, cider, and fruit juice

🪦 Thanatos

God of: personification of death

Culture: Greek

Symbols: sword, inverted torch, theta, wreath, wings

Plants: poppy and cypress

Animals: butterfly

Colours: black, silver, white, and purple

Tarot: Death

Offerings: (traditional liquid offerings are poured into the ground and food is buried), red wine, olive oil, water, honey, poppy seeds, black tea, dark chocolate, feathers, animal bones, snake skin, and graveyard dirt (collected respectfully)

🍃 The Dagda

God of: fertility, agriculture, strength, magic, druidry, wisdom, father-figure, King and Druid

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: club, cauldron, and harp

Plants: grains and oats

Animals: pig and bull

Colours: black, silver, white, and purple

Tarot: Strength, Wheel of Fortune, The World, King of Pentacles, King of Wands

Offerings: Porridge, Mead, Milk, Honey, Pork, Beef, Mutton, Music, and Laughter

Offerings: honey, olive oil, sweets, flowers, herbs, plants, bread, wheat, fruit, sunflower oil, beer, mead, spring water, vegetables, grains, and baked goods

🔮 The Morrigan

Goddess of: magic, battle, life and death, sovereignty, fresh water, prophecy, and fate

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: cloak, spear, chariot, sword, and shield

Plants: willow, aspen, rowan, snapdragon, hawthorn, yew, belladonna, mugwort, and nightshade (do not consume, handle with care!)

Animals: crow, raven, horse, eel, serpent, and wolf

Colours: red, black, white, blue, and green

Tarot: Suit of Swords, Queen of Swords, Justice, and Death

Offerings: red meat, red wine poured into the ground, apples, mead, milk, whiskey, storm water, crow feathers, knives and daggers, and artwork

🌩️ Thor

God of: thunder, lightning, strength, protection, fertility, masculinity, and protector of humanity

Culture: Norse

Symbols: Mjölnir

Plants: oak, garlic, onion, gorse, thistle, hawthorn, leeks, houseleek, mountain ash, hazel, pine, acorns, and oak moss

Animals: goat and bull

Colours: red, white, gold, and blue

Tarot: Strength and The Chariot

Offerings: hearty foods with lots of meat or onions, mead, beer, flattery, oak, whiskey, coffee, and honey

✒️ Thoth

God of: knowledge, wisdom, writing, mathematics, science, magic, truth, integrity, time, and the moon

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: scales, papyrus scroll, stylus, crescent moon, and a pen

Plants: papyrus and sweet flag

Animals: ibis and baboon

Colours: white, blue, and teal

Tarot: The Magician, The Hierophant, The Star, and The Moon

Offerings: black tea, water, honey, blackberries, apricots, salmon, tuna, oranges (and orange-flavoured things), walnuts, cashews, quills, fountain pens, leather-bound books and journals, books you think he’d enjoy, silver, poetry, dark chocolate, whiskey, gin, mead, mint tea, and moon water

🗡️ Tyr

God of: war, lawgiver, justice, oaths

Culture: Norse

Symbols: weapons like arrows and spears

Plants: flowering spurge, holly, wolfsbane, and monkshood

Animals: wolf, bear, and eagle

Colours: red, silver, grey, and gold

Tarot: King of Swords

Offerings: wine, strong beer, salt, honey, bread, grains, beef, pork, and potatoes

🐄 Veles

God of: the Underworld, Earth, water, music, magic, trickery, cattle, and wealth

Culture: Slavic

Symbols: the symbol of Veles

Plants: willow

Animals: cow, bear, snake, wolf, dragon, and owl

Colours: gold, yellow, and red

Tarot: The Magician, The Hierophant, The Star, and The Moon

Offerings: cooked corn, bread, herbs (especially basil), wooden flutes and string instruments, black wool or fur, things carved from wood, coins, chicken, mistletoe, and music, 

🌧️ Zeus

God of: King of the Gods, the sky, weather, law, order, justice, hospitality

Culture: Greek

Symbols: lightning bolt, cloud, sceptre, throne, and aegis

Plants: oak, olive, wild celery, artichoke, white poplar, and linden tree

Animals: eagle, bull, cuckoos, and swan

Colours: gold, yellow, blue, white, purple, and silver

Tarot: The Emperor, Justice, Wheel of Fortune, King of Swords, and The Fool

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, honey, milk, red meat, bread and cakes, rainwater, golden objects, crowns, scales, eagle feathers, oak branches and leaves, beef or mutton, whiskey, and cinnamon.

[ornii]

My Better Bitter Half, Part 8

“As I expected, now stop pussyfooting, and get ready because we’re going to make Bianca’s Dream into a nightmare. I’ll go prep black kitten.” (Y/n) says to his sister, who stands before him in the skin tight black suit, fuming with rage, “I will make every last moment of your life absolutely painful.” She says with venom and he nods “as expected.” He said and walks off, eventually (Y/n) reaches a small clearing that perfectly looks over the lake. He calls in via Walkie-Talkie.

“Alright, Addams 2 to Addams A.” He said, “All Cards Are set. Ready for takeover.” He said and kneels down, readying a bow an arrow, he listens calmly to Weems speaking a ways away.

“I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup. This is one of Nevermore's proudest annual traditions, dating back 125 years.

Each team must row across to Raven Island, pull a flag from Crackstone's Crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk. First team to cross the finish line with their flag wins the cup and bragging rights for a year, as well as some special privileges. Let the Poe Cup begin!”

He hears a gunshot ring out and he watches them row, the four teams including his sister rowing away. He watches as they creep closer to the island to get the flag, suddenly the Boat Xavier rows begin to sink. And another topples over and it seems that some foul play was at hand, (Y/n) rose up with his bow and took aim.

“The final two teams are the Gold Bugs...and the Black Cats.” He says. He aims and prepares the arrow tip to Pierce the boat, not hurt anyone of course, he begins to trail off. And let the arrow loose, and it flies, and if by the grace of god or the Devil himself. It ricochets off of the boat, it hits multiple Metal objects and then hits a rock near the oily waters, which somehow sets the oily water on fire, creating a ring of fire around Bianca’s boat and halting them in their tracks. Which gets the Black Cats the win, which somehow was him. Absolutely stunned by this, he shrugs and accepts it,

The winning ceremony began as (Y/n) caught up to Enid who was talking his head off, whilst Wednesday just stares as Weems gives another speech,

“The first Poe Cup took place in 1897 as a way to not only honor Nevermore's most famous alumni, but to celebrate those values that all outcasts share. Community, perseverance, and determination. And we certainly saw those Congratulations to Ophelia Hall!

As a former resident, I will be happy to see the cup back on the mantle after all these years.

The trophy was given and celebrating was afoot. Unfortunately Wednesday was not the social spider her brother was and retreated to a secluded corner of the building, (Y/n) peered down the hall to see her.

“Wednesday? What are you doing down here?”

“Hiding. People keep randomly smiling at me, it's unsettling.” She said and (Y/n) chuckles.

“They’re smiling because they’re proud of you,

You took down Bianca Barclay. Try to enjoy it sister, it’s not often you take down a high scho monarch. And smile a little, Oh, come on, it won't kill you.”

“You know it will.” Wednesday responds, (Y/n) thinks for a moment.

“Well, I suppose, okay what would you like to do to celebrate?” He asks, and Wednesday thinks, and walks off and (Y/n) follows.

“Nevermore continues to be an enigma. A place where the questions far outweigh the answers. But sometimes... the answer is staring you right in the face. Don't worry, Edgar Allan. I see your sanctimonious smirk. But I will get the last laugh.” Night falls and the twins stand before the Edgar Allen Poe statue.

“Ah, a Statue?” He asks.

“Yes, i came across something most interesting, you see Edgar had a penchant for riddles. And this might be his cleverest yet. Because it's not a single riddle. Rather, each line is its own separate one. "The opposite of moon."

“Sun” (y/n) replies:

"A world between ours."

“Nether”

"Two months before June."

“April.”

"A self-seeding flower."

“Pansy.”

"One more than one."

“Two.”

"Its leaves weep to the ground."

“Ah, a Willow.”

"It melts in the sun."

“Ice.”

"It’s beginning and end never found."

“A Circle.”

"Every rule has one."

“Exception.”

"The answer will give a sharp cracking sound." Wednesday ends, and (Y/n) rubs his chin.

“Snap.. Twice.” He says, and the twins do it on unison, snap twice. Mechanisms change and shift inside the statue, suddenly it begins to move back and reveal a flight of stairs.

“Wow, as diligent as ever dear sister. You first.” He says and Wednesday heads in first without much reservation and (Y/n) follows. They enter a library full of books, books that look exactly like the ones she was looking for.

“Hm, books, just like the one Rowan had..”

“Then we’ve found our origin.” Wednesday says. The twins catch the eye of a photo being taken, of their mother. They stare at it together.

“Secret societies. Hidden libraries. Our mother staring at us in a judgmental way. These are all things I should expect. But the minute I inch towards the truth...” (y/n) thinks, from the corner of his eye his sister is bagged and dragged away. He turns around and someone whispers into his ear.

“Sleep…”

His legs suddenly fell weak and he collapses down, he rolls on his back and looks up to his eyes closing not by his choice, and dark shadows surround him. And it all fades to black.

“Luckily, I'm not afraid of the dark.”

[mr-easybake]

Reading check in

We are halfway through October and I have finished 5 books!

Before the Coffee Gets Cold - a cute semi-anthology that follows the personal stories of four people and why they choose to go back in time to visit someone they know, but they must come back to the present before the coffee gets cold. The stories were cute and I liked the concept - 7/10

An Enchantment of Ravens - a perfectly fall romance between a human girl and the fairy prince of fall. When our human girls gets swept into the fairy land to go to trial, the long journey there brings her and the fall prince dangerously close, for it is forbid for a human and a fairy to love each other. I WAS HOOKED, the romance was so sweet and I was invested, I finished it in 2 days! - 9/10

The Shining - a family of 3 have fallen on hard times, a father who is a recovering alcoholic with a bad temper, a distraught mother struggling to to what's best for her son, and a 5 year old boy with a gift: the shining. They move to a hotel for the winter for the father's new job, as they slowly become isolated and the hotel gets stranger, they descend into madness. I did not like this book very much, I don't understand why Stephen King puts so much unnecessary racism and sexual content into his books. I didn't like the pacing of the story and was not very interested in what would happen next. - 4/10

Fantastic Land - when hurricane Sadie hits an amusement part with employees still sheltering on location, the situation quickly becomes a lord of the flies tribal war as they are trapped in Fantastic land. Teenagers start killing each other from day one and continue to have full blown battles between the 5 tribes. I really liked this book, the concept was right up my alley and the way that the story was told through "interviews" was cool. - 7/10

In the Company of Witches - When a guest and our main characters inn mysteriously dies, she must find out who did it in order to clear her aunts name. Throughout her investigations she slowly works though her loss of her husband and regains her magical powers. The town gets more suspicious of her aunt with no other person to accuse and the town starts to suspect the family of being witches. This book was a cozy mystery taking place in fall and while you can mostly guess who the killer truly was, the ending was a worthwhile wait and the character development is so meaningful. 8/10

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, March 9th (Part One)

XANDER: Hey, I see sitting where there should be dancing. ANYA: Come share in the joy of our groove thang. WILLOW: And despite that, I succumb to the beat. (getting up) BUFFY: I think I'll catch the next Soul Train out.

~~Dead Things~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Beacon by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Love Flies on Broken Wings by DragonsPhoenix (Angel/Spike, T)

The Runaway by McQueenfan2016 (Connor, Friends crossover, T)

Negotiation by sillybeagle (Giles/Ethan, E)

Reprogramming? by NotASlayer (Buffy & April, T)

Dance With Me by itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland (Spike/reader, trigger warnings: none)

I Lie Awake Every Night by mcgnagallsarmy (Buffy/Spike, G)

Riley Doesn't Know by all choseny (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Raven, Chapter 6 by sparrow2000 (Xander & Spike, G)

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion, Chapter 415 by madimpossibledreamer (Ensemble, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure crossover, T)

Forgiveness Doesn't Come Easy, Chapter 26 by slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, R)

Working for the Weekend, Chapters 1-12 by dogbertcarroll, Narsil (Buffy/Xander, T)

Never Give Up, Chapters 1-6 by melodys_muse (Buffy/Angel, T)

second chances they don't ever matter, Chapter 5 by Evil_irish_batman (Buffy/Faith, T)

Forgiveness Doesn't Come Easy, Chapter 26 by Slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, M)

Easy Street, Chapter 18 by Storm_Arke (Faith, The Walking Dead crossover, M)

Raven, Chapter 6 by sparrow2000 (Xander & Spike, G)

No Going Back, Chapter 16 by Tru2urheart (Willow/Tara, M)

When Lust Wanders, Chapter 4 by BiggiePanda (CalliopeStar) (Buffy/Spike, E)

I Don't Want to Be the One, Chapter 7 by pommedapi (Buffy/Spike, T)

Greatest Love Story Postlude, Chapter 8 by FalseGinger (Angel/Spike, M)

Centrifugal Force, Chapter 2 by MamaBewear (Angel/Spike, T)

Ready for it? Chapter 7 by Lilacsandorangeblossoms (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Forgiveness Doesn't Come Easy, Chapter 26 by slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, R)

Afterburn, Chapter 22 by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Dusk Rising, Chapter 30 by HappyWhenItRains (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Love Lives Here, Chapter 32 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Rebehold the Stars (Love from the Other Side of the Apocalypse), Chapter 10 by Asokatanos (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Something Blue, Chapter 1 by Violette-Milka (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The joining of souls, Chapter 16 by delfine (Buffy, The Lord of the Rings crossover, FR13)

Easy Street, Chapter 18 by Arke (Faith, The Walking Dead crossover, FR18)

Enemies to Ghost Hunters, Chapter 9 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Bizarre Double Life, Chapter 9 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Balance, Chapter 9 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Triangles, Chapter 9 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Embrace, Chapter 9 by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, R)

Tag, You're It! Chapter 9 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Glimpses of the Cellar Dweller, Chapter 9 by Maldorana (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

How Could I Not? Chapter 9 by simmony (Buffy/Spike, R)

30 Ways to Say I Love You, Chapter 9 by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Forever and Always? Chapter 9 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, R)

Dead End, Chapter 9 by all choseny (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Pick Me Up, Chapter 8 by Dusty (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Dawnster Drabbles, Chapter 9 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Left on Read, Chapter 8 by ashcrashed (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

I love you, Chapter 9 by Lilacsandorangeblossoms (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Boyfrenemy, Chapter 9 by Lady Emma (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Out of the Wasteland, Chapters 6-7 by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, R)

That Was Real, Chapter 9 by Desicat (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

What the Drabble? Chapter 95 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, R)

The Dreaded Lurgi, Chapter 9 by SomeKindOfADeviant (Buffy/Spike, PG)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: aftermath of Destiny if the writers weren't cowards by angelthemanspanker (more or less worksafe)

Artwork: an alternate s5 [Life of the Party] by genericaces (Angel/Spike, probably not worksafe)

Artwork: Spike eating a popsicle with a grey blanket hiding him from the sun by oc3an-w4v (worksafe)

Cartoon: Gunn, Willow and Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica by Paul Gadzikowski (worksafe)

Gif: ANGEL | 1.08, ԉ Will Remember YouԠby andremichaux (worksafe)

Fanvid: Super Graphic Ultra Modern Slayer by Featureless Expanse (Faith)

Fanvid: Buffy and Spike - You're the One That I Want by juliaroxs241

Fanvid: Drusilla Tear You Apart by Moon Child

Fanvid: Buffyverse - Champion by CaptainBlondieBear

Fanvid: We're a Family ll Buffy The Vampire Slayer by Frances Bushell

Fanvid: Buffy Scooby Doo Generique Fan Made by Angelus_Clips

Video: Buffy the Vampire Slayer opening | "My Babysitter's A Vampire" style by A Pixie's Whisper

Artwork process video: Alyson Hannigan #Willow #shorts by Sadiq's Solitude (worksafe)

Artwork process video: Nicholas Brendon #Xander #Shorts by Sadiq's Solitude (worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

thoughts on the series as a whole by b3_k1nd_rw1nd

Rewatch thoughts and questions continued by multiple posters

Podcast: Lessons S7 E1 Buffy and the Art of Story Podcast by Lisa M. Lilly

Podcast: Buffy and Angel by ThunderQuack

Video: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season Four, Episode Thirteen: The I in Team by Slayed! The Buffyverse Revisited Podcast

The Legacy of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Forest of Geek - Of Fangirl Productions

Podcast: Episode 114: Bargaining Part 1 by Myth Taken: A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Podcast

Podcast: Episode 115: Bargaining Part 2 by Myth Taken: A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Podcast

[Recs]

Vid rec: Buffy Summers - I am the law by thisyearsgirls recced by Priceless

[tobiltopart]

It's been a long LONG time since I've done updated art of this man on any platform.

Drake Edward Morrison III (the third)

A once mortal immortal touched by the last spark of essence of an ancient god of death. The man that started the creation of an entire universe in my brain, all from creating OCs with my high school best friend Winna in 11th grade.

Born to a noble family of recognized knights in the equivalent of earth year 506, he is now over 1500 years old and lives in modern era Talain, a clean energy, magitech run, green super city of about 15 million people. He has a handful of partners and is currently raising one high energy 8 year old with his girlfriends.

He's old money, having accumulated wealth over his long ass life, and keeping up with ever changing societies and economies...for the most part. There were times where he fucked off into the wilderness to hermit for a couple decades here and there. But currently, he's returned to his ancestral home, built over the old castle ruins with a modern but rustic 12 bedroom, 14 bathroom, 2 kitchen, indoor pool, and a large study home with several other people and a feral cat colony that roams the 150 or so acres of forest and brook covered lands around it.

He's typically seen as being very grumpy and stoic, intimidating to most people. But to those who actually know him to his core, he's incredibly kind and caring and loves to care for children especially. Very dad vibes. He's also well trained in many types of martial arts and use of very many types of weapons. He speaks at least 12 languages, probably more, and is technically the strongest man alive, physically.

He has mastery over fire magic and was gifted power over shadow and death magic upon becoming immortal. Technically, he's an elf. Raised in a mixed culture house, the Earth equivalent being Italio-Spaniard (father's side) and Indio-Moroccan (mother's side). He was closer to his mother than his father, and had two younger siblings; his brother Khalid and sister Refugia.

Some fun facts:

- While the god his power comes from is based on a raven, Drake's wings are that of a barn owl

-- he therefore flies completely silently, but also fairly slowly compared to most others.

- His favorite food of all time is blueberries. If you ever want to get on his good side or attempt to bribe him, bring a blueberry cheesecake (or something of that nature)

- He's a very meat and potatoes kind of guy, simple comfort foods and a lot of it.

- He's recently (as in the past couple decades) replaced his alcoholism with meditation and playing with his kids. Even so, he still likes a social drink here and there.

- He grew up learning from his mother's spiritual practices, the Earth equivalent being Islam. While he doesn't actively practice anymore, he does observe on his mother's birthday and occasionally some holidays.

- He actually loves to sing and dance, they are his art forms. His favorite music to dance to is swing.

- He manscapes. He's actually a very hairy man, but he prefers to be mostly hairless and neat. Occasionally he's okay with letting it grow out, but not often.

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 20🥃

Hey, so, uh... remember Day 8💋 and Day 9🍑? The Smoke/Mute PWP? Because I sure did. And I wrote a sequel, I just couldn't leave it at that and neither could they :) This is just the first part, second and last part and Smoke coming tomorrow! (Smoke/Mute, Rating E, explicit + emotional hurt, ~5.4k words)

(Also, I feel like I should tag you, @cerosin, because I "forgot" to mention there was a sequel back when I sent you the first fic - so, surprise? 😁)

.

Their eyes meet right after Smoke finds his footing following a dramatic combat roll to escape the exploding building. He’s carrying the bit of intel they so desperately need in form of a USB stick, and Sledge is elated when he hands it over – the mission was a success, there were no casualties on their side and Mute is staring at him like a hungry wolf at its prey. Oh yeah, they’re gonna do this.

“We’ll analyse this immediately”, Sledge tells them, ignorant of the sparks flying between his two friends, the raw animal magnetism, “are you coming with us?”

“You go ahead”, mutters Mute, not taking his dark eyes off of Smoke. “And don’t wait up.”

A minute later, Smoke’s back smashes against the remnants of a wall caught in the explosion, a wild beast tearing at his clothes and trying to suffocate him. Mute is ravenous, urgency guiding his movements as he undresses his lover and the same impatience makes them skip any foreplay: Smoke is ready, already open and wet and bends over at the insistent shove, pressing his cheek against debris and moaning into the dust cloud surrounding them when Mute pushes inside, deep and even deeper, stretching Smoke to his limit.

The feeling is wonderful and though they usually take their time, Smoke relishes this just as much, the hard thrusts, the heady pleasure, the sensation of warm palms keeping him in place. He could do this for hours, for as long as Mute wants to, and he knows if he keeps this up until his legs give in and then comes, it’ll be the sweetest -

His phone is ringing.

That’s what that sound is, piercing through the residual smoke and the victorious rush following the mission and the ecstasy of sleeping with the man he loves, sobering him up unpleasantly. Dragging him back to reality.

Right.

Smoke opens his eyes to the sight of his bedroom illuminated in mood lighting, wondering why he even bothered. He took a long bath, lit a scented candle (cinnamon is his favourite) and took his time doing some ‘self care’ but if he gets rudely interrupted like this, it’ll all be for nothing. He’s out of it now, the memory of a scene which never happened fading fast and with it the euphoria, leaving behind an uncomfortable embarrassment burning low in his gut. He knows what he’s doing is messed up. Isn’t it enough that he faces the shame afterwards, now he’s also gotta repent during?

When the song keeps playing for a while longer, he figures it’s urgent enough that he might as well take it. The night is ruined, it can’t get much worse, so he’s got nothing to lose. He stretches to reach his phone and the toy inside him shifts, pressing against all the right spots so he lets out a quiet whimper. Man, what a shame – he had it all figured out, the scene was so realistic and could’ve been so, so good. He should keep it in mind for next time. Maybe.

Unless he won’t be able to fend off the epiphany anymore that wanking to one of his co-workers who clearly rejected him is a recipe for unhappiness at best and disaster at worst.

“Hey mate”, Bandit’s voice booms out of the speaker once Smoke picks up the call. He sounds at the very least tipsy, if not wholly intoxicated. “You busy?”

Smoke glances at his flagging boner. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

“Can you come get me? I came by bike but… nuh uh. Too drunk. I’ll save some of the whisky for you.”

How is there nobody else for him to call? To be fair, Blitz is out of the country and Jäger drives like he flies helicopters, which is to say like a madman, and IQ won’t take any of his bollocks anymore, so alright. Yeah, maybe Smoke is the only one he can call. “I guess. Ask how expensive the bottle was though, I don’t drink anything below 30 quid.”

“Snob. I’ll send you a Google maps thing. Bye, love you!”

And with that, he’s gone. Smoke heaves a sigh and winces as he pulls the phallic object out of himself, feeling much too empty as a result. Fitting, really.

Only throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants which need to go in the wash anyway, he grabs his phone and keys and taps the location Bandit sent him to start the navigation. Maybe not all is lost and he can finish what he started upon his return, but he’s not hopeful – a pissed Bandit is a hilarious Bandit and though he’ll leave Smoke in a better mood than before, he certainly won’t rekindle his libido.

Distracted with thoughts about what to do with the rest of the night, he drives through familiar streets, turning familiar corners until everything becomes a little too familiar. About one turn away from his destination is when it finally hits him.

He’s heading directly to Mute’s flat.

The dread settles at the bottom of his stomach like a too-heavy dinner, poisoning his mind with a myriad of painful memories and even more painful possible outcomes to this encounter, and all of it is making Smoke’s fingers shake. He finds a parking space opposite the building yet is unable to exit his car, not when he might have to face him, not with his heart pounding like this.

You still work together, he reminds himself sternly, you see each other almost every day. This won’t be any different. You go up there and tell him you’re picking up Dom, and that’s that. No more interaction necessary. He won’t make it awkward if you won’t.

But what if Mute just shuts the door when he sees him?

What if he turns and leaves, refusing to speak to him altogether?

What if Mute yells at him to leave him alone, that he doesn’t want him and never wanted him and Smoke is a fucking creep and how dare he do what he did and it was the worst moment of Mute’s life he’s never felt so violated and he keeps having nightmares, jumping whenever anyone touches him and -

Good heavens.

Smoke rubs his temples and tries to get the spiral under control before he has a full blown anxiety attack opposite Mute’s house. None of the above will happen. The end result is usually somewhere between the worst and the best thing that could happen (and good God, Smoke can’t even imagine the best thing happening because it’s so agonising to entertain the idea), so it’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

Mute is fine.

Maybe he won’t even answer the door. Yeah, that’s a heartening thought – maybe Bandit is already dressed and waiting for him, said his goodbyes and Smoke won’t have to look at Mute for even just a second and he’ll drive Bandit home and then he’ll spend the rest of the evening sobbing into his pillow and whoops, there he goes, back to the dark place. That was fast.

Mute just won’t answer, because that’s the easiest option, and Smoke will be fine. He’s only been here a couple of times anyway, once to pick up the TV Ela wanted and Mute didn’t need anymore, once for Mute’s birthday. Once when Mute needed help carrying some decommissioned equipment home and Smoke stayed much longer than planned because they played around with it instead of unpacking properly and then Mute ordered food for them and they watched the beginning of a horrendous horror film while eating and then ended up watching the whole thing, and Smoke went home much too late that evening but felt like he was floating and looked at Mute differently from then -

Deep breaths.

Dom must be getting impatient. He should go.

The sound of him slamming his own car door shut startles him, as if he needed a reminder about his current mental state. He crosses the street, practising smooth one-liners with which to greet Bandit to convince him absolutely everything is fine, and breezily jogs up the stairs to the first floor. Bandit will answer, maybe Smoke will stick his head in to greet some of the others (because he heard party noises on the phone, so there’s clearly something going on, and no he isn’t obsessing about why he wasn’t invited), and then they’ll leave and it will all be alright. Maybe Mute will be in the bathroom. Or he’s too busy doing whatever to pay any attention to him.

Smoke knocks with a fake air of confidence, putting on a smile and straightening his clothes.

Mute opens the door.

He looks fucking gorgeous.

And Smoke feels his smile flicker.

.

How long has it been? How long since the fateful encounter which drove them apart?

When he tries to, he can recall every second of it, every noise, every small gesture, every gaze between them. These days, he doesn’t try anymore and yet the memories keep flooding his mind at the most inopportune moment – in the presence of others, in public, during a conversation, doesn’t matter, he’ll be minding his own business and spot an advertisement showing a bit of skin and bam he’s back with Mute’s cock down his throat trying desperately not to cum.

And Mute just -

Instead of turning him down, he simply stopped turning up.

Fucking coward.

Like Smoke can’t guess what’s going on when people start acting odd around him, side-eyeing him and asking in private whether there’s something wrong between him and his former best friend. Like he doesn’t know Mute flees as soon as he shows up, disappears around a corner, forgot about a meeting, needs to go right this moment. Like Mute isn’t telegraphing it loud and clear by not telegraphing anything, by ignoring texts, by forcing conversation when they have to, by quietly requesting to be assigned to a different team.

And that one stung. The other events hurt, sure, left a low ache where Smoke’s heart used to be, but knowing the very person he trusted so much, adored so much, loved so much – that this man couldn’t stand sharing any kind of space with Smoke? It left a mark. Because it might mean one of them has to leave Rainbow, and then they won’t see each other at all anymore, and Smoke knows how much being a part of the team meant to the both of them. How proud they are to have made it.

But what smoulders beneath it all is blinding, deafening, muting shame.

Because Smoke knows he overstepped a line. Took advantage of Mute’s vulnerability. Acted selfishly. No assurance of consent was going to be enough, not when the other man was in such a state, and instead of showing compassion and responsibility, Smoke took what he wanted and deluded himself into thinking it was mutual.

Well. Mute’s behaviour made it abundantly clear that the opposite was true.

He’s had terrible nights imagining Mute lie awake as well, remembering being touched against his will and wondering how to go on with his life.

And despite all this, despite any leftover rationality in Smoke screaming at him to apologise, to attempt to make amends, to talk it through with somebody, despite it all he can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop seeing Mute that way, flushed and sweaty and insatiable. He chooses him to star in his fantasies. Which makes the whole situation so much worse.

.

So yes, when Smoke stares at the object of his most shameful desires, he’s utterly tongue-tied – he won’t be able to express any of his inner turmoil in words nor will Mute be willing to hear it, so it’s best to just … ignore him. Acknowledge him with a non-committal greeting, enter his flat, grab Bandit, drag him outside and cry himself to sleep later, aaand he’s back to feeling sorry for himself. Because his best friend abandoned him. After he committed a heinous breach of trust.

This is not the most productive use of his time.

They’re still staring at each other, unmoving, seconds later. Mute has certainly been partying, his cheeks are reddened and his ears are following suit, the comfortable dark grey t-shirt looks rumpled and he’s barefoot. His expression is unreadable in the low light. He’s not letting go of the door.

“I’m here to pick up Dom”, Smoke eventually explains himself, to which Mute steps aside to let him in. This probably means he won’t fetch the German by himself, so Smoke takes it as an invitation to explore the flat – he passes the kitchen where glasses are piled up, and steps into an empty living room. It’s not a large apartment but Mute valued comfort over style and has crammed enough sofas and armchairs in that it easily houses a medium-sized get-together. Except all signs point to the very same having finished already: there’s no one here.

“He left with Seamus”, Mute speaks up behind him and his voice makes it suddenly apparent that he’s been drinking too, and not a small amount. He’s swaying slightly, blinking often, his tongue seems heavy. “Maestro picked them up. A few minutes ago.”

Well, that explains it. Smoke huffs in annoyance and is keenly aware of Mute blocking the only exit – rather, he’s standing in the doorway, looking as lost as Smoke feels. This is unbearably awkward. He feels like an absolute bellend.

“I think he set something aside for you. There’s a bottle in the kitchen.”

Oh, a win-win: Smoke won’t have to listen to Bandit’s drunken gibberish yet reaps the reward anyway. Focusing very hard on not paying Mute too much attention, he squeezes past him (and good god, the one half-shared breath has his heart skip a beat) to get to the dimly-lit neighbouring room, wondering when it became normal for the people around him to host a party without extending an invitation. It hasn’t happened often, but it has, though he remembers attending a few events with Mute conspicuously missing. Maybe they didn’t want to pick sides and chose each of them equally. What a cop-out.

His scalp is prickling and he realises how tense he is just from being in Mute’s private space. He should leave as soon as possible, though it’s likely the damage has been done; alcohol is a downer and painful memories tend to exacerbate a bad mood (for which Smoke is responsible, and he knows it). Picturing Mute fighting off demons on his own at night makes his heart ache, so he might have to say something. Advise against loneliness.

And he would know.

The bottle is labelled Tobermory, a brand with which he’s not familiar, and more than half empty. He’ll just grab it and leave, drive home and do the very thing he’s about to tell Mute not to do: drink alone. Maybe. Whatever lifts this crushing weight from his chest.

As he turns around, Mute is behind him again, staring with an uncomfortable intensity – does he feel so unsafe that he has to follow Smoke around his flat? Has it gotten that bad? His arms hang uselessly by his sides, fingertips fiddling with a loose thread sticking out of his jeans. He looks like he wants to say something.

And dear lord, there is so much at the tip of Smoke’s tongue. Above all, an apology, followed by a despairing plea to go back to a semblance of what they were, of needing to be a part of this beautiful young genius’ life; he’d beg for forgiveness if it meant Mute would be able to look at him again, exchange more than tactical communication during missions, not react with sudden panic when he tries to talk to him anymore. He knows he’s not owed any of it, far from it, but it doesn’t stop the excruciating longing inside him. To see him smile again. To just sit next to him in peace.

“James”, says Mute, calmly, with next to no slurring. And hearing his name uttered from this mouth almost causes him to tear up.

This is not the moment. Mute is tipsy at best, vulnerable and unguarded, and Smoke will not take advantage of him again. They can talk another time. Even then, worry and concern take over, take control of his tongue and voice some of his thoughts. “You shouldn’t be alone today”, he mutters. “Don’t spend the night by yourself.”

Mute’s expression shifts, he briefly looks taken aback and Smoke wants to smack himself – as soon as the words pass his lips, he realises how they must come across. Why does he keep making everything worse, always? As he scrambles to come up with an appropriate explanation, Mute takes a step forward. He didn’t take it the wrong way, did he? Then again, if Smoke ends up being smashed against the counter for his dumb mouth, he’d deserve it. And hey, if it makes Mute feel better, he’d gladly -

He’s really close now.

Close enough for Smoke to smell him and this is bad. Lowering his gaze does nothing to help, it gets caught on slightly parted lips, on the strong jawline, the exposed neck. The bit of collarbone peeking out. On the heartbeat visible through his shirt. Why is it so fast? Is he -

When Mute leans down, time stops. The world ceases to be. And then Mute kisses him. Just a bit, briefly, no more than a second, but their lips touch and Mute’s breath is on his skin and then it’s over again.

Smoke stares at him, thunderstruck. He – what just happened. Why did he – is this for real.

What even is going on.

Mute does it again, longer this time and Smoke’s body is catching up faster than his mind because he feels his still-loose hole twitch in completely inappropriate anticipation, and his dick is taking an interest in this sudden turn of events as well, and he wishes he could just shut off certain bodily functions. Because this isn’t right, he needs to tell Mute no instead of returning this heavenly, sweet kiss, needs to extract himself from this situation entirely instead of tilting his head like so, needs to stop this … fluttering sensation. Mute smells heavenly, his lips are as soft as ever, gently insistent. It feels so good. Better than any memory or fantasy.

???, goes his brain, not even able to form coherent thoughts as his former friend interrupts the slow kisses to lean back and look down at him with a mix of curiosity and something tantalising, something dark. This is wrong. They can’t do this, he can’t do this, not without clearing the air first, having a proper sit down and talk. Yeah. He should tell him. He needs to tell him they have to cease right this instance. He plucks up the courage to open his mouth and say something, and what comes out is a breathy, pleading, pitiful: “… babe.”

Mute grabs him by the shirt and slams him against the kitchen counter – fulfilling Smoke’s prophecy in a very different way – before crushing their mouths together once more, stifling the embarrassing moan to escape Smoke’s throat at the gesture. He’s half hard now, wrapping his arms around Mute’s neck and basking in his body heat, their proximity. Despite having no idea what got into Mute, his first instinct is to set aside all doubts and enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts.

Which is a terrible notion. It’s what destroyed Mute’s trust in the first place. But how, how is he meant to refuse this? How could he ever?

When it might be the reconciliation he’s been yearning for?

Mute’s tongue is licking any sense out of him, leaving him reeling with its determination to coax out more and more noises, and the delicious way their bodies slot together like they were made for it rapidly fogs up his brain. Heat pools in his crotch, both front and back and he sharply regrets not finishing before driving here – the wanton need merely slept instead of being sated and now awakens with renewed hunger, tugging on his sinews to get him closer to Mute, even closer, press their lower halves together with an undignified moan followed by an ardent echo when his own half-hard shaft meets another.

Fucking hell, Mute is really into this.

Two cool hands slip under Smoke’s shirt and one rests on his lower back, holding him in place if not forcing them even closer, while another creeps up his side, drawing small ticklish circles with its thumb before digging in between his ribs, following the movement of his laboured breaths, rising whenever his ribcage expands. He can’t think straight, is rapidly turning into a hot mess especially when Mute’s hips grind against his own, forcing him to acknowledge the entire length of Mute’s cock, every inch tangible and coaxing out memories. Inconvenient memories. Memories of being bent over a crate and coming undone, coming untouched, of -

A sharp jolt of pleasure has him snap his lower half forward without meaning to: the long fingers exploring his chest have found one of his nipples and started caressing it gently, brushing over it with a fingertip, pinching it slightly. Smoke interrupts their mind-numbing snogging to hiss a quiet fuck, repeats it when Mute continues his ministrations and adds a low moan at wet lips sucking on the side of his neck. He feels both malleable and utterly trapped: Mute’s body is basically wrapped around him and now he’s moulding Smoke however he wants to, he’s shoved a leg between Smoke’s and starts pressing against his crotch, lifting him slightly while bending his upper half backwards to allow for better access to his neck and jaw.

It feels fucking amazing. It shouldn’t, but it does. Smoke is reminded of being at Mute’s mercy and relishes the memory. He’s more than ready to give himself up once more.

“Do you like this?”, Mute mutters, slurred voice a low rumble over Smoke’s skin as he keeps stroking over his nipples with varying intensity, brushing lightly before pinching. “Does it feel good?”

Jesus Christ, now that the lad is (mostly) of sound mind and not preoccupied with getting himself off as fast as possible, it turns out he’s a tease. Smoke is struggling to stay upright as it is, there’s no chance he’ll be able to engage in any kind of conversation or voice his preferences when he can groan in pleasure and hump Mute’s leg instead. His hole is pulsing by now, hungrily clenching around nothing and no doubt weeping for Mute’s girth, and still there’s a tiny voice at the back of his mind asking him whether he really wants this. Whether he’s ready to trade these sensations for a friendship. Again.

“Babe”, he says, and he genuinely wants to demand they stop. He does. He really, really does. If Mute doesn’t listen, there won’t be anything he can do, Smoke’s body is too charged, too sensitive not to go along, but chances are good Mute will listen. If Smoke earnestly asks him to stop, he will. There’s no doubt.

Except, well, before he can utter anything else, Mute kisses him again and these aren’t ‘I hate you but I’m a horny drunk so let’s get it on’ kisses. They’re not ‘I just want sex from you’ kisses. No ‘I’m confused about what I want’ kisses. Mute doesn’t half-arse things, and neither does he half-arse capturing Smoke’s lips in such sensual, deep, adoring kisses that he’s rendered speechless. Though his nipples continue to be abused in the most titillating way, one of Mute’s hands finds the opportunity to bury itself in Smoke’s luscious hair and softly tilt his head into the kiss. Their tongues aren’t involved at first, it’s just smooth lips pressing against his own, chasing his, a relieved sigh following as if uttered by a reassured lover, a gentle massage of his scalp, a tight embrace, a body melting against his.

These are ‘we just reunited after being apart for too long’ kisses. ‘Meeting at the airport after a long vacation’ kisses.

Holy hell.

They’re ‘I missed you so much’ kisses.

Oh boy. Something has happened here and though Smoke can’t identify it yet, his body realises much sooner what it means – he might be able to enjoy this guilt-free after all.

The moment Mute’s tongue touches his is the moment he suddenly becomes aware of how soon this is going to be over if they don’t quit dry humping. Smoke’s primed enough as it is, desperate for any kind of release (even into his sweatpants) and throbbing at this point, the lack of an orgasm earlier coming back to bite him since the roaring need blots out everything else. They have to get a move on, so he bravely reaches between them and unclasps Mute’s belt using what little brainpower their lovely making out leaves him. He keeps moaning into Mute’s mouth despite trying to concentrate on getting his jeans open and eventually just admits defeat, fingers too shaky and mind preoccupied with all the wonderful sensations everywhere on his body.

“I’m gonna come”, he gasps as a last resort, “babe please, I’m gonna come soon. Wait. Please wait, oh fuck -” One of his nipples is twisted in response, causing his erection to jump, and Mute latches onto his neck again, sucking so insistently there’s no doubt it’ll show. Which is a gesture too hot for Smoke to handle right now. “Babe. Please. I can’t -” A hard rod presses against his own, startling a helpless mewl out of him. This isn’t good. He can’t control himself, not near his climax like this, so he’s relying on Mute to do the right thing.

…an intoxicated, horny Mute, and yeah, maybe this isn’t one of his better ideas.

In his desperation, he resorts to the only possible action capable of halting his impending doom and twists in Mute’s arms, writhes until he’s awarded enough leeway to fully turn around and have Mute rub against his arse instead. Which is only a marginal improvement seeing as the large dick fits beautifully between his cheeks and it reminds him too sharply of the position in which Mute fucked a hands-off orgasm out of him.

He wonders whether Mute will manage a repeat performance and feels his face grow warm at the thought.

Arms snake around his torso, conveying Mute’s unwillingness to let him go, and a hand dives down past the waistband of his sweats, meeting nothing but skin. Oh, right. He didn’t dress properly, did he.

“Oh my god, James”, purrs Mute right into his ear, making him squirm. It’s the second time Smoke’s name falls from his lips and where the first occurrence sounded composed, this time it’s both scandalised and excited. He better not think this is all premeditated, it’d kill Smoke if his friend (ex-friend?) assumed he turned up here expecting to get laid, though there’s still one detail left to discover which will undermine him even further. Best not to beat around the bush then.

Well, that and he really, really, really wants Mute’s gorgeous cock inside him right this instant.

He’s overwhelmed as it is, there’s teeth at the nape of his neck and now Mute’s wrist is warm against his dick, deft fingers cradling his balls like they were made for it (and how does he know all of Smoke’s sensitive spots, he exploits everything as if someone had given him an instruction manual, turning Smoke’s knees into butter and his brain into mush), and Smoke can’t. He can’t. He doesn’t care they haven’t shed a single piece of clothing or exchanged an honest sentence since he came here, couldn’t care less about more foreplay or god knows what. Propping himself up on the counter with Mute draped over him like an overprotective, jealous lover, in between jumps of his cock in reaction to the indirect stimulation, he pleads: “Just put it in, babe. I’m ready. You can fuck me right here.”

And though the Mute in his head reacts with unbridled enthusiasm by taking him up on the offer with no hesitation (and wouldn’t that be amazing, just getting railed in Mute’s kitchen mere minutes after arriving, he’d come so hard he nearly passes out staring at the bottle of whisky Bandit put aside for him and all would be fine again), the real-world Mute pauses for a second. Lets go of Smoke’s balls to reach around to the other side, brushes over a quivering hole that instantly relaxes against the probing fingertip, undoubtedly notices how wet it is.

Don’t ask me about it, Smoke implores him mentally, just don’t ask and do it. Please. Fuck now, talk later. Come on.

Two fingers are shoved inside him, pushing the air out his lungs. Smoke lets out a small, helpless noise and then another when the fingers move inside him, push deeper, twist and scissor – not as wide as the toy he’d used earlier but more precise, brushing over his sweet spot with worrying accuracy as he whimpers in disbelief. He stares into nothingness while Mute explores his insides, makes his entire body curl in sudden lust whenever he hits that special place and yes, maybe getting fingered to completion is fine too. The third one finally blurs his vision and nearly has him smack his head on the kitchen counter in response to an especially vicious twist of Mute’s wrist – and though he’s enjoying himself, he idly wonders whether Mute wants some loving, too.

He’s not left wondering for long.

“Bedroom”, Mute orders, voice thick. His fingers withdraw, leaving Smoke gaping and gasping. “Let’s…” A shaky intake of breath, then another, quieter: “… bedroom.”

The lad doesn’t move until Smoke does, probably stalking after him so Smoke can’t see his face (which he already has anyway, and Mute looks as unguarded and open as he did last time: cheeks and ears flushed, off-balance, longing, beautiful). Walking is awkward due to his legs not cooperating fully after Mute just tried to reach into his guts, let alone the general haze clouding his mind; but what it does is allow him a few seconds to think. Unimpeded by curious hands roaming over his body, by an insatiable mouth requiring contact at all times.

He misses Mute’s touch already.

Still… how did they end up like this? A tinge of his previous doubts remains as he himself knows how powerful nostalgia can be, especially when amplified by alcohol. But surely, that can’t be it.

And even if it is, Mute won’t blame him the next day. Right?

… right?

Two details cause this line of thought to screech to a halt: one realisation, the other more immediate. The first is the fact that Mute’s bedroom is an absolute mess. Smoke remembers the layout of this flat, legs carrying him to their destination without any presence of mind required and it doesn’t click until he’s pressed down on the handle, made the door swing open. Clothes are strewn about everywhere, the small desk is crowded with all kinds of shite, the bed is unmade, the wardrobe door askew, a few dirty dishes piled up on the bedside table. No doubt none of Mute’s guests set foot in here this evening. Yet Smoke is allowed to, even asked in, invited into the most intimate part of Mute’s living space and the implications aren’t lost on him. Mute could’ve left him in the kitchen, or they could’ve moved to the living room. Instead, they’re here.

The second one begins as a light touch and changes into a hand wrapping around his, reacting to his prompt by interlacing their fingers, holding on tight. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he stands there like an utter idiot amid this mess, face burning, clutching Mute’s hand so hard it must hurt, and doesn’t dare move a muscle in case all of this vanishes in a single second. In case it’s some fragile, wishful dream. They’re holding hands. And Mute initiated.

What the fuck.

[heartsoulrocknroll]

Holiday World Trip Reports July and October 2023

This is late, so this is just an amalgamation of my thoughts from the four days I spent at Holiday World in July and the two days I spent there in October.

1) The Voyage - 20 rides!!!!!! (1 night ride) - I've already made a post just for this ride, but I can't and won't shut up about it. There is absolutely nothing else like The Voyage. It has everything. The drop is fun, especially in the back row. The first two hills give good floater air. The valleys in the tunnels on the outward leg are super intense (more because of the pure wooden coaster feel at such high speeds than because of strong positive Gs). The rumbling of the train along the track echoes violently in the tunnels, further amplifying the sense of intensity. Perhaps the things I love most about this ride are the abrupt laterals that occur in the middle of airtime moments, such as the small hill after the first tunnel and the small hills on the return run. The spaghetti bowl is filled with small banked hills that give quick, sudden pops of airtime. And when you think it can't get any better, all hell breaks loose after the midcourse. The triple down in the tunnels is maybe my favorite element of the ride, offering great, intense airtime by the third drop. By this point, the ride is absolutely flying, and it only continues to pick up speed as it flies downhill through a series of small, banked hills that offer the some of the craziest, quickest pops of floater air I have ever experienced. This ride is an endurance test. By the end, I struggle to keep my hands up. But it is an endurance test in the best way. After trying and failing several times due to the park closing early for thunderstorms, I finally got a true night ride, and it was fantastic. But honestly, this must have been a much better night ride before Thunderbird was built. There is too much light back there now. It is really dark in spots, but I can't imagine how much more insane the night ride would be if it were truly pitch black, like the setting of the Beast. Still an insane, out of control experience though.

2) The Legend - 8 rides (2 night rides) - This ride goes so hard. I love lateral forces on wooden coasters, and Legend does them like no other, with the double helix providing the strongest, most sustained laterals of any coaster I have ridden. This element pins you to the side of the car for a solid ten seconds, and it rocks. This ride also has a few good airtime moments, including the first part of the double up that travels underneath one of the water slides and a couple of small hills toward the end, following the double helix. My controversial (?) opinion is that Legend may very well be the best night ride in the park (and one of the best in the world). I was a 10 on the "WTF is happening scale" riding Legend in the pitch dark (so much darker than Voyage). It is just pure insanity.

3) The Raven - 6 rides (1 night ride)- This is a short ride, but it packs in some great elements. The first drop is aggressive in the back of the train. The turnaround over the water offers a beautiful view and great laterals. Then the ride kicks into high gear, starting with the fifth drop that gives a shocking pop of airtime and dramatically increases the speed of the train, so that it feels like you are absolutely flying through the S-curve and into the brakes. This is another awesome night ride as well.

4) Thunderbird - (6 rides) - This is easily my favorite of the three B&M wing coasters I've done so far. The launch is punchy, the Immelman and vertical loop are forceful, and the slow inline twist at the end is perhaps the only hangtime moment that I have ever really enjoyed. For some reason, I can prevent the restraints from tightening on me on this ride in a way that I can't on Wild Eagle, so the comfort aspect is better as well.

[tvrundownusa]

tvrundown USA 2023.08.06

Sunday, August 6th:

(exclusive): "Lloyd of the Flies" (TUBI, animated series, all 26 mini-eps), Lollapalooza (hulu, livestream, day 4/4) [scheduled acts]

(streaming weekly): Special Ops: Lioness (Para+), The Uncanny Counter (netflix), King the Land (netflix, season 1 finale)

(special): Stellar Gospel Music Awards (BET, 38th annual, 2hrs)

(original made-for-TV movies): "The Gilgo Beach Killer" (LIFE, 2hrs+)

(earlier - hour 0): Heartland (UPtv, season 16 opener, new night, 2hrs), 60 Minutes (CBS)

(hour 1): Heartland (UPtv, contd), Ridley (PBS, part 2/2, season 1 finale), Raven's Home (disney) / . / Bunk'd (disney), The Chosen (theCW), "1883" (PAR|CMT, ~80mins, penultimate), Celebrity Family Feud (ABC), Big Brother (CBS, 2nd timeslot opener), Worst Cooks in America (FOOD, season 26 "Love at First Bite" opener, 90mins)

(hour 2): Grantchester (PBS, 2hrs), Dark Winds (AMC, ~70mins), HouseBroken (FOX) / . / HouseBroken (FOX, season 2 finale), The Chi (SHO, season 6 opener), Domina (MGM+), When Calls the Heart (HALL), The $100,000 Pyramid (ABC), The Mega-Brands That Built America (HIST), Worst Cooks in America (FOOD, contd), "See It Loud: The History of Black Television" (CNN, part 5/5, finale), "Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty" (HBO, season 2 opener)

(hour 3): Grantchester (PBS, contd, season 8 finale), Black Snow (AMC, ~80mins)

[ao3feed-briennejaime]

Kingdom of Winter, Realm of Ice

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/oI3iJBx

by Mast3rofd3ath

The Targaryen’s once again sit the Iron Throne, but that does not mean that the war is over.

In the East, King Jaehaerys Targaryen flies to his dragonkin's side as the shadow grows ever larger, ancient enemies waking to destroy the house of the dragon once and for all, and a pretenders army grows…

In the North, Winterfell has been taken through treachery and Ramsay Snow consolidates his power as Sansa Stark heals from her wounds amongst the Free Folk.

In the south, Eddard Stark, Hand of the King, rules his nephew's kingdom and dreads the arrival of a white raven.

Winter has come.

Words: 8, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Of Gods and Men

Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), House of the Dragon (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other

Characters: Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen (Brother of Daenerys), Talisa Maegyr, Ned Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark, Grey Worm (A Song of Ice and Fire), Quaithe of the Shadow (A Song of Ice and Fire), Arya Stark, Sansa Stark, Rickon Stark, Bran Stark, Sandor Clegane, Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Kinvara (Game of Thrones), The Others | White Walker Character(s) (A Song of Ice and Fire), Drogon | Daenerys Targaryen's Dragon, Rhaegal | Daenerys Targaryen's Dragon, Viserion | Daenerys Targaryen's Dragon, Cannibal the Wild Dragon (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, Alys Karstark/Robb Stark, Gendry/Arya Stark, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Missandei/Grey Worm, Talisa Maegyr/Viserys Targaryen (Brother of Daenerys), Tyrion Lannister/Margaery Tyrell, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark

Additional Tags: The Long Night (A Song of Ice and Fire), Great Empire of the Dawn (A Song of Ice and Fire), Ancient History, Targaryens being rutheless and bloodthirsty, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Valyrian Magic (A Song of Ice and Fire), High Valyrian (A Song of Ice and Fire), Targcest | Targaryen Incest (A Song of Ice and Fire), Ice spiders, Monsters, Wendigo, Wargs & Warging (A Song of Ice and Fire), Direwolves (A Song of Ice and Fire)

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[hapalopus]

My frustration is not with the depiction of valravnen as an antagonist - it's with the depiction of it as a generic capital-C Creature, and the amalgamation of different versions of the figure that completely disregards the sources of the figure. It's frustrating because it's ahistorical, yet it keeps popping up in supposedly history-based sources. This year alone I have seen it in Danske Sagnvæsner (book by Kenneth Bøgh Andersen), Monsterkrig (a supposedly 'folkloric' card game), and in this year's julekalender, Valdes Jul, which prides itself on taking inspiration from local folklore.

The origin of the song

According to Holbek & Piø (two of the most noteworthy and thorough Danish folklorists of the 1900s) there are roughly 8 different known versions of the folksong "Valravnen" and only 2 of them actually use that word (and only one of them spells it that way, the other one using the spellings valleravn and vallenravn). The other versions refer to the bird as Ulver vilde ravn, Salmand vilde ravn, and vilden Verner ravn ("vilde ravn" meaning "wild raven," and Ulver/Salmand/Verner being old Danish names). Other known names include willen-val-raffn, Volffuer vilde ravn, and Salmanndt wilde raffuen.²⁺⁴ The versions are referred to, by folklorists, as version A, B, Cabcd, D, E, Fa, Fb, and Fcdefgh.³ Of these, versions B, Cabcd, D, and E are considered 'official' - these were collected by unknown writers around 1580.³ Version A is quite different from the rest and may or may not be a different song altogether. Version Fa is a 1591 rewriting by Anders Sørensen Vedel and the other F-versions are are based on his version.³ All versions are collected in part 2 of "Danmarks gamle Folkeviser" by Grundtvig, which is available right here. They can be found under DgFT 60.

The 'official' versions of the song all follow this structure:³ The valravn flies at night. He spots a sad lady out for a walk. He asks her why she's sad. She replies that her stepmother sent her fiancée away to a far-away land. She wants to see him again. The valravn says he will help her if she gives him her firstborn (in version D he also adds that he's her brother). The lady offers gold and silver instead. The valravn does not want gold and silver. The lady agrees to give him her firstborn and the valravn flies her to her fiancée, they are wedded, and the lady gives birth to a son. The valravn reminds her of their bargain. The valravn drinks the baby's blood and turns into a knight. They all pray to God to revive the baby, and the baby is revived.

The version you described is version A, which was transcribed by Sten Bille in 1555-59,³ and has been compared to another folksong, DgFT 33 Germand Gladensvend¹⁺³⁺⁴ (which itself was first transcribed between 1553 and 1555).³

The farmer's recount

The only source of the claim that valravnen haunts battlefields, eats hearts at the battlefields, and gains human thought by eating hearts at battlefields is a miller's apprentice named Peder Johansen, born April 15th 1855.⁵ Though we do not know when Evald Tang Kristensen collected his stories, the book in which this recount is included was published in 1893, so Peder Johansen was likely in his mid to late 30s. Here's what we know about Peder Johansen's life and sources:

Peder Johansen's father was a miller in Svejstrup mill, which is why Peder became a miller too, in Fiddbro mill. Peder's father's stepfather was regarded as a knowledgeable a storyteller, who unfortunately passed away, at the age of 80, when Peder was confirmed (so when Peder was around 13). Peder's recounts largely consisted of things his stepgrandfather had told him during his childhood. Evald Tang Kristensen pulled him aside during a Fastelavn game and interviewed him there.⁶

So basically, the source of this quote is a man who heard it 20+ years before he retold it, and he retold it at a party setting, which does make him a reliable source for the cultural landscape in that area at that time, but it does not make him a reliable source for the wider folklore of Denmark.

The noble family

The beast on this coat of arms has been referred to, among herolds, as a "valravn." It was reprinted in the 1967 book "Fabeldyr & Sagnfolk" which was most Danes' first introduction to the valravn (including mine). I cannot understate the impact this book has had on the Danish perception of folklore. Every creature, figure, beast, and character that was included in this book is now inseparable from its inclusion in this book. If you discuss folklore with anyone who's even mildly interested in the subject, they will eventually refer to something from this book.

This is the one single source of the idea that valravnen is a wolf/raven gryphon.

The coat of arms in question belonged to the Ulfeldt family, who resided in Skåne and went extinct in the late 1700s.⁷⁺⁸ The proposed origin of this heraldic beast and its name is:

The original name was actually vargravn (wolf+raven) but the sounds were, over time, transformed into valravn. R to L is not an uncommon type of linguistic drift in Nordic languages (the G in 'varg' is soft, meaning the word is pronounced more of less like var-ravn).

The Ulfeldt family reportedly had a "wolf-eagle" on their coat of arms, but married into the Walraun family, whose name is homophonic to valravn, thus their heraldic beast was assumed to be some kind of raven. The same figure is known in Swedish heraldry as a "lejonörn" (lion-eagle), lending some credence to the eagle idea. But because of the family names, Ulfeldt (which sounds like the Danish word for wolf, ulv) and Walraun, their beast was turned into a wolf-raven.

In all songs, valravnen is described as a talking raven. The wolf-raven appearance only exists in heraldry. It's about as similar to the song-version of valravnen as heraldic antelopes are to real life antelopes.

In summary, the most folklorically compliant valravn just looks like this

Sources:

"Fabeldyr & Sagnfolk" (1967). Bengt Holbek & Iørn Piø. Politikens Forlag.

"Gentagelsen - et sprogligt studie" (1890-92). Vilhelm Andersen. Dania, p. 198.

"Overnaturlige væsner i nordisk balladetradition I" (1969). Iørn Piø.

"Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, bind 2" (1856). Svend Grundtvig. Samfundet til den danske Litteraturs Fremme.

"Danske sagn som de har lydt i folkemunde, bind 8" (1892). Evald Tang Kristensen.

https://search.isebel.eu/dataset/da-etk-jat_06_0_00924

"Fra sagnenes dyreverden: valravn" (1904). M. Kr. Danske Studier, p. 216.

https://da.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ulfeldt

Hooooowww did people 1) hear the folksong Valravnen about a knight who's been transformed into a bird (likely an eagle, not a raven) and can only break the curse by killing a baby, 2) see that one (1) now-extinct noble family referred to their heraldic beast, a wolf/bird, as a 'valravn', and 3) read one single 1800s countryboy's explanation that valravnen is like an evil valkyrie, and SOMEHOW extrapolate from those three wildly unrelated sources that "The Valravn" (because it's never a folkloric concept with different interpretations, it's always a single specific creature) is a were-wolf/raven who haunts battlefields to drink the blood of slain warriors????

Please stop depicting 'the' valravn when you don't even know what it is, I'm begging on my fucking knees, I hate the way recent Danish folklore-inspired popculture has latched onto this figure and keeps depicting it in wilder and wilder ways😭😭

If you want a folkloric evil bird creature in your story please just use a fucking dragon or gammen. Use a damn cockatrice or vættehane, idgaf. Please just stop muddying the already-confusing lore of valravnen. The figure has been abused enough already and you are making my hobby as a folklorist very difficult😥

[danyka-fendyr]

As the Raven Flies: Part 8

Should I really stop writing these things early in the morning only hours before they’re supposed to be released? Well...yes. But alas, I probably won’t. As long as you guys are still reading, I’ll keep making insane life choices. Insane love to everyone who has ever left a single note on any of my posts.

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @disengagefrmreality @superwolfchild-fan

Wordcount: 1988

Chapter 8: In which, you wouldn’t like Frank when he’s angry.

Eventually, Vivien finished crying, wiping away her tears in shame. James either didn’t notice or didn’t care that she was foolishly trying to hide the fact that she had cried, letting her clean up in silence.

“How do you feel?” He asked, voice quiet in the car.

“I’m okay.”

“You going to be honest with me or not?” 

“Cold. But like...cold inside.”

James nodded.

“I just...” she sighed. “I just want to go home.”

“Okay. We’re close to my house anyway,” James said, climbing back over into the driver’s seat.

She shook her head. That wasn’t what she’d meant, but she’d been emotionally vulnerable enough for the day, and she’d almost been blown up. She didn’t owe James any explanation about the hole in her chest or about how home meant one year ago or about how home meant anywhere but here and now and her. Home meant an entirely different person, and she wouldn’t be going home any time soon.

The rest of the drive was quiet, except for her occasional sniffles, but when they stopped outside of James’ house Vivien stiffened. There was a black car outside of his house, just a little farther down. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all.

“James,” she said quietly. “Take another lap around the block.”

He raised his eyebrows, but followed her instructions anyway. The black car started up, beginning to follow them. That, James noticed, putting the pieces together.

“They’re following us,” he said.

“The question is, are they here for me, or you?”

“Why don’t we ask?” James pulled over, the black car copying him from a few feet away. “You ready for a fight.”

Vivien rolled her eyes. “Sure. Why not?”

They both got out of the car, and James slammed his fist into the dark window of the driver’s side. “Hey, jerk! Why are you following me and my girlfriend around? What, you think just because you’re her ex you can pull creepy crap like that?”

Vivien just stared at him. What on earth was he doing?

The window rolled down, and revealed...Frank?

“Last time I checked, you just wished you were dating her, punk, just like you’re going to wish you were dead when I’m done with you.”

He opened the door into James’ ribs, throwing him off his balance before Frank punched him in the face.

“Frank!” Vivien rushed forward, blocking his next punch, which was considerably easier to do when you weren’t lying on the ground with a bruised chest and potentially a broken jaw.

Frank stopped, scowling at her. “You should have been back 30 minutes ago, and I want to know what he did to you!”

Had she really cried that long? She hadn’t exactly been keeping track. 

“He didn’t do anything, Frank! I suggested we stop,” she lied. “I was in shock and I needed to get some sugar in my system. It wasn’t James’ fault at all. Leave him alone.”

Frank relaxed slightly, glaring at James, who was standing now, an impressive feat given the damage he had taken.

“I wouldn’t hurt her. She’s my friend,” was all James said.

Frank huffed. “Not five minutes ago you were telling me she was a little more than that.”

Vivien blushed, surprised to feel anything warmer than the cold that had been sitting on her chest. 

“That’s-I-” she stammered, unsure why she was trying to defend herself.

James was blushing also, speaking up. “We thought you were someone following us. I figured we should have a cover story in case you were just a normal person. And even if you weren’t, better to mislead you.”

Frank seemed skeptical, but also a little bit respectful, and Vivien was baffled as to how he managed to be both at the same time. 

He turned to her. “Karen is already at my place. We should go now.”

She nodded. “Just give me a minute. I want to make sure James takes care of that bruise somebody gave him.”

Frank rolled his eyes theatrically at her judgment but waved her on. She followed James inside, into a large, empty house that looked like it had come straight out of a Better Homes & Gardens magazine.

“This is where you live?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Yeah. My Dad died a couple years ago, so my Mom does all the decorating now. Or, I guess, she pays someone to do it.” 

So that was why he had seemed to understand so well. “Do you miss him?”

She skipped past all the formalities. All the sorry’s, all the saccharine “that must be so hard” comments.

“All the time. Usually when I go watch baseball games. We used to do that together, but now...”

“Now you go alone and then you go home and you cry.” It didn’t sound mean. Just jaded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said quietly.

“Where is your kitchen?” she turned to face him in the color palette of a foyer. “We need to put some ice on that.”

“This way,” he said, leading her back to a kitchen that was just as cookie cutter as the hallway.

He reached into the freezer, grabbing an ice pack, but before he could put it on his face Vivien grabbed it from him. She opened a few drawers before she found the towel one (close to the sink, like she’d figured) and pulled out a thin one, wrapping it around the ice pack. 

“There. That will help with the cold,” she said softly, pressing the ice pack to his cheek as he leaned back against the counter. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “He was just worried.”

“And angry and probably mentally unwell.” She was only a little bit joking.

“Well we can’t really talk, can we?”

She sobered, smile falling slowly off her lips. “No. No, we can’t.”

“Neither of us can,” he reminded her. He grabbed the wrist of her free hand, tugging her closer. “You’re not alone Vivien.”

She caught her breath. His eyes were really blue. How had she never noticed that before? How had she never noticed the soul-sucking, ocean deep, sky wide, awestriking blueness of his eyes? 

She swallowed. The way he was looking at her made her feel strange, made her heartbeat pick up faster than it should. That shouldn’t be pleasant.

“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the deep need to break the silence. “For today. For not letting me blow up. For letting me cry.”

His hand that wasn’t holding her wrist came up to rest over the one still on the ice pack on his cheek. “You don’t have to hide it, you know? If you have to cry, you cry. Around me, anyway.”

She nodded slowly, not looking away from his eyes. It felt like she would be breaking something sacred if she did.

“Don’t hide from me, okay Vivien?”

“Okay.”

She waited another moment, savoring whatever this feeling was before she slipped out of his grasp. “I should go.”

He blinked, that look in his eyes disappearing like she had known it would. “Yeah. Umm..thank you. For taking care of me.”

“Yeah. Any time.”

She headed out the door, hands in her pockets. She felt the urge to both jump up and down and skip around the block and also bury her face into her bed and scream. Whatever that was.

“Ready to go?” Frank asked, leaning up against the car.

“Yeah. Why do you have multiple cars?”

“One is for getting shot at. The other is not,” he said.

“Enough said.”

She got into the car, the earlier weight that had been on her chest curiously lifted. Where it had sat, there was now just an empty hole. It was not good, but it was something. An improvement. It felt...light. Airy. 

She smiled. She felt okay.

Frank gave her the lecture of her life on the way back. On being reckless, on how she should have messaged Karen (she did have 8 missed calls), about how she was on a great path to lose dessert for the rest of her life. No really. He actually, literally said that. Vivien almost couldn’t believe her own ears.

“You can’t take dessert away from me!” She protested.

“My house. My rules.”

“Karen would never let you take dessert away from me.”

“Don’t try to use Karen against me.”

“This is ridiculous! All because I saw a boy you don’t like.”

“I don’t like him because he’s probably an enemy spy and set a bomb trying to kill you,” Frank said, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

“Well, you know what, if he did I guess I’d have to forgive him, wouldn’t I? Because he’s the only friend I’ve got.”

Frank quieted. No one ever had a witty retort for reminders of tragedy. It was difficult to laugh in the face of grief, especially when it haunted you as well.

“You’re still not getting dessert tonight.”

“Fine.”

Karen embraced her as soon as she walked through the door of Frank’s apartment. “I was so worried about you!”

“I’m fine. We just had to make a quick stop.”

“What she means by that is that lover boy had to make goo-goo eyes at her,” Frank said.

“That’s not-We didn’t-”

Karen looked entirely too delighted. “Suuuurrreee you didn’t.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Vivien marched off to find her room.

Frank’s place was small, but roomy enough to hold all of them. She suspected that he probably had multiple safehouses like this, and this one was obviously equipped to hold multiple people. She wondered how long he’d had it.

Still, it was small, and it didn’t take her long to find the room with all of her things in it. She made quick work of putting what little had been brought away before flopping down onto the bed. Karen had made sure to bring her comforter, remembering that it had been her parent’s before, maybe.

Vivien closed her eyes, wishing she could just go to sleep. After this day, all she wanted to do was sleep. However, there was still the matter of dinner. Karen and Frank would want her to eat with them after all the worrying they’d been doing. Sure enough, Frank knocked on her doorframe, standing where she had left the door ajar.

“Dinner is ready whenever you’re hungry. Just some lame TV stuff, but you know. Food is food even if it isn’t Karen’s cooking.”

“Which is, of course, the only reason you frequent our place for dinner.” She sat up as she teased him, getting out of bed.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Two can play at that game,” he warned.

She thought about James and how close she had been to him earlier today and decided that perhaps it was better to keep her mouth shut.

They headed out into what passed for a living room or common space where there were three TV dinners, just like Frank had said. Karen was sitting on the couch waiting for them, and Vivien joined her, sitting down.

“So, Frank told me James said he was your boyfriend?” Of course that was the conversation starter Karen chose.

“He’s not. And don’t we have bigger problems right now? Any theories as to who might want to blow us up?”

“Well that’s the main problem,” Frank said, sitting down with them. “There were four of us in that room. Any of us could have been the target, potentially, which doesn’t make tracking down a suspect easy at all.”

Vivien nodded. “We’ve all certainly made our fair share of enemies, haven’t we?”

“More than that,” Karen mumbled, a hint of bitterness flavoring her words.

“Which is why first we need to figure out who they were attacking, and then we can figure out why.”

Vivien stabbed her fork into her food. “Alright. When do we start?”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Into the Woods

The path to its depths is deep and dark and dangerous.

This is part 14. We’re almost three quarters of the way through this long and winding story.

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13

Dire,

When this letter finds you, time will have started ticking for me again. I will be gone, and the girl will be at your doorstep.

As per our arrangement many moons ago, I am entrusting you with the care of my apprentice. She is a mild-mannered little thing. She will work well and work efficiently if left to her own devices. All you need do is provide her with the basic necessities—food, water, clothing, shelter, and, of course, paper, quill, and ink.  

But I am not writing to you out of kindness, nor as a courtesy. I am writing to you to give a warning: there is something unsettling about that girl.

Her stare wakes me in the dead of night. She’s sleeping by then, but I feel her gaze piercing me all the same. Those big, curious eyes, always wondering, and always wanting to know more. When she looks at me, I feel as though she is scraping talons across my mind, seeking a way in to steal away my thoughts.

She watches for fun. People, animals. When I take her into the town, she observes and asks questions. Too many of them.

Strange things started happening.

Rats infested our pantry, nibbling only at the pumpkins. The neighbors would mysteriously vanish. My eyes would spontaneously water.

I do not cry, Dire.

I thought her to be a child favored by misfortune.

Then I read her stories, and I knew it was no coincidence, nor a string of bad luck.

When she told of vermin seeking out a pumpkin carriage, she summoned the rats to her. When she wrote of people dying of heartbreak, they did. When she wished for sadness or anger or happiness, they would manifest and lead others down her desired path.

The weather, the world—they would not bend to her, no matter how often she described dark and stormy nights. Time and space are not hers to wield—but minds? Of that, I am uncertain.

She plants seeds that take root in the heart, then fester in the head. Drives people mad.

That girl has the capacity to be dangerous, Dire. The stories she spins can will people into serving as mere playthings.

I do not understand how it works myself. I believe she doesn’t yet know the full extent of her powers, either. She is too young, too naive. Perhaps that is for the better. For her, for us, and for all of Twisted Wonderland.

But even a storyteller cannot stop the hands of time.

One day, she will cultivate those powers. Whether they are used for good, for evil, or for something inbetween...

That is in your hands now.

Farewell.

I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight, Crowley worriedly fumes, chiding himself. He flies down a corridor, harshly raking fingers through his hair. It was foolish of me to think she would not act rashly.

He should have noticed the warning signs sooner. The loneliness, the mounting frustrations, the constant push to pursue higher heights, the blot.

What had happened that night? And what had been the missing piece that had fallen into place, the part required to make her magic work? What had stopped it all those times she had practiced?

He recalls the color of Nostalgia—a pleasant pink, rosy like the fondest memories. It had been fuzzy, but tingly and warm, if only for a few seconds before it escaped him and burst like firecrackers into the world. She could never quite get it to concentrate, to collect, and to stay that way.

But if she did… there’s no telling what she could drive a man or a monster to do.

Crowley shivers, batting the thought away as he descends upon the Mirror Chamber.

As usual, it is dim, darkness illuminated faintly by the flames set in sconces and crystalline lights. Floating coffins in a circle around the perimeter, and a grand mirror in the center. The Mirror of Darkness.

Crowley steps before it, bowing his head in reverence.

Please don’t come looking for me, Raven had pleaded in her note. This is something I have to do alone, and by my own hand.

Her voice had permeated in every letter, in each stroke of her pen. He could almost feel her leaping off of the page, could almost see her peering into him, silently pleading. Curious eyes, the sort that stared into his heart and soul.

Seeking something.

Please, Uncle.

A ghoulishly green face emerges from the depths of the mirror. Its features are carved from marble, eyes adorned in an intricate, swirling black lattice.

“Speak,” the Mirror of Darkness booms.

Please.

Crowley shakes his head.

… Forgive me.

“Show me Raven. Tell me where she has run off to.”

The face in the mirror pauses, silently searching for the answer. Moments later, his lips move, the reply falling from them heavy as stones. “... Impossible.

“What?”

“It is impossible to ascertain her location at this time,” the Mirror clarifies.

“Well, try again. Try harder!!”

“I have reached, and I have found nothing. Her presence is unknown to me.”

Everything in Crowley goes cold. His heart and his blood slow to a stop, his limbs turning limp and frigid. Goosebumps prick up on his flesh.

“Th-That... That cannot be. If her presence is unable to be detected, then that means she is...”

No longer a part of this world.

“... Alive. The raven is still alive.”

The headmaster jolts, jump-started again by sparks of hope. He practically seizes the Mirror by its frame, but—miraculously—restrains himself.

“The presence is faint, but I feel her,” it continues. “There is a great wall of magic, a force preventing interference. I know not how it was deployed, or by whom. It does not belong to Night Raven College. But she has fled beyond that barrier, beyond the boundary.”

“Beyond!”

The word carries in the cold quiet of the chambers, rattling the crystals on the grand chandelier hanging overhead. The dancing flames flicker, shuddering at the suggestion.

“Beyond,” the mirror confirmed. “Where exactly, I cannot say.”

“If that is all the information that you can provide…” Crowley doesn’t finish, letting the hopeful lilt in his voice speak for him. To his dismay, the mirror offers no more clues. The green faces fades into oblivion, leaving the headmaster alone.

Gears in his head turn. Spinning and spiraling as fast as they can.

It’s far too large of an area to scope out by my lonesome, he muses. I need more bodies to cover such an expensive swathe of land, but to endanger the students is… No, there’s no time to waste. A small elite team will do.

Crowley twirls his walking stick—an elongated, sleek ebony key, with a golden head and teeth. Magic spills out from it, emitting a faint glow.

Speakers all across campus come to life.

Crowley clears his throat, bringing his mouth close to the head of his walking stick—to his microphone.

“Ah-HEM!! Good morning, all. This is your oh-so-very kind headmaster, Dire Crowley, speaking.” He can already feel the collective, unanimous groans shared by his students and staff through the intercoms, but he presses on regardless. “I am here today with an important announcement.

“All classes are cancelled. This is a not a drill; this is a campus-wide lockdown. Students, please return to your dorms until further notice.

“Dorm leaders and staff, assist students to their rooms and ensure that the grounds are free of loiterers. Report to the Mirror Chamber when all your students have been filed away and safely accounted for.”

We’ll be going on a bird hunt.

Deep in the heart of the woods, someone rests by a great lake. The lake’s face shimmers and reflects the sky, a giant mirror throwing light and colors and shapes back from whence they came.

“Breakfast for you, my pretties,” they croon, their trill filling the forest.

Crouching, hand outstretched, they set bits of bread into the grass and bobbing upon the water. Wild birds collect around them, taking turns pecking at the morsels. Blue jays, robins, ducks.

Swans and doves.

Fragile and pristine little things, creatures yet to be soiled by the cruel world.

They chuckle, tossing their final chunk of bread into the lake.

“... Have you heard the Tale of the Cursed Raven?”

They whisper the question, which skips across the waters. The swan and the dove closest to her perk their heads up, keen on listening.

“Long ago, a loveless king was cursed to storytelling. That man would pass his burden unto another. Now a bird bears his legacy, making his story into her own.” They looked across the lake at something that none of their bird companions could see. “... It has yet to be finished, but I believe I know how it will end.”

Stories are set to repeat themselves, after all. And if that cowardly man failed to redeem himself, then...

“What do you think will become of her?” They weave their fingers through the water. It ripples, rings overlapping in the lake. The swan and the dove stare back at their visitor with curious eyes. “Straying from the path as she has...”

Defy the story, and the story will snap back, baring its teeth and claws to correct itself.

To put you back on its path.

“Do you think her deserving of a happily ever after?”

Rook had seen this scene play out before; countless renditions of it, in fact: Raven, a basket in hand, delving deep, deep into the woods.

So why is there such dread collecting in his stomach this time? Things writhing and twisting into chaotic knots. His huntsman’s intuitive is on overdrive, screaming danger, danger at him.

Yet as far as he can tell, this is nothing more than her usual stroll for ingredients for a new batch of enchanted inks. As quaint and as mundane as a sleepy Monday, a return to the norm.

He tenses from his hiding place, letting the cool shadows swathe his skin and conceal him from view. His heart stills in spite of his racing thoughts and the accumulating worry.

Rook waits.

From not far off comes faint rustling, then a whoop.

“Found some!” Broad-capped mushrooms, colored a startling shade of blue, are tossed into a basket.

Raven looks worse for wear.

Her feather shawl and impossibly black clothes are stained with dirt and smears of chlorophyll. Hair either clings to her face, which is damp with sweat, or sticks up, frizzing in the humidity. She’s dusty and haggard--but a single drop of joy lights up her entire face.

Raven leans against a tree trunk, producing a quill and a small booklet from within her shawl. The gemstone inlaid in her writing implement is still foggy with remnants of last night.

“Inky milk caps... check,” she murmurs, crossing it off of her list. The bird glances into her basket, taking quiet inventory of her collection.

A scattering of navy berries, a few cerulean wildflowers, a single stone that was tainted the faintest periwinkle, and then the mushrooms. Some vials of crystal clear water, not blue but a base in which to suspend it. Altogether, not a lot of ingredients to pick and choose from.

Raven bites her lower lip, nervously dragging her tongue along the back of her teeth.

There weren’t many natural sources of blue in nature. It was as though the sky had claimed most of the pigment for itself, leaving the rest of the world to scrounge for its scraps.

Think, think. Where else can I find this color?

Raven scrunches her brows, delving deeper and deeper into her brain to pull at budding suggestions. Alas, she comes away empty-handed, the residual frustration gnawing at her, and discarded ideas laying at her feet.

“.. Tch.”

She casts a forlorn look out upon the glistening lake. At first glance, it looks as blue as the sky—but she knows that it is only a trick of the light.

You just had to pick the hardest color, didn’t you? she scolds herself.

But nothing else would have been appropriate. Nothing else could encapsulate all the sorrow and the joy, could adequately tell her tale.

Maybe there’s something deeper in these woods.

Raven tucks her book and quill away, looping her basket of ink ingredients on her arm. She begins her shuffle around the perimeter of the lake. Her reflection in the water follows perfectly.

Every wobbly, uncertain movement.

This is where I was, once upon a dream.

Picking flowers with Rook. Floating in a boat with Jade. Flying freely, doing as she pleased and going wherever the wind took her. A dream so wonderful she never wanted to wake from it, and wished to chase it when she did.

She sets her jaw, determined.

“I can do this.”

She says it out loud, willing the dream to become reality.

“I can.”

Raven takes another step, and the forest exploded with shrill shriek. She yelps, slapping hands over her ears to block out the noise. It comes to her muffled, but stays just as desperate.

That’s…

She slowly lowers her hands—and sound slips through her fingers.

“… lp………………..”

Words spoken in bird tongue. High-pitched and frightened, young and confused.

“… elp….! Help me!!”

Raven’s spine stiffens, her head snapping in the direction of the call. The opposite way of the path she had been treading on.

Ignore it.

She bites her lip and wrenches away, guiltily shrinking into her shawl.

“… hurts… I-It hurts…”

Her foot crashes down on the spot.

“Mommy…! Daddy…! Where… where are you?”

She spins around, her ears straining to pick up more, her pupils pinpricks.

“Someone… A-Anyone…!!”

Raven is flying before she even knows it. There are no thoughts in her head, no hesitation in her gait, as she tromps through the forest, drawn by the cry.

“I’m coming…!! I’m coming for you!!” she shouts back. Raven is just as frantic and as lost as they are, voice warbling unnaturally. “Keep calling, keep singing—I’ll find you!”

The bird’s call is weak, but it grows in volume as she approaches. A vague murmur becomes a whisper, and the whisper, a sob in an empty room.

Distinctly there.

A feeble coo weaves through the thickets. So small that it would shatter from a sigh, fragile like a glass slipper.

With voice as her guide, she stubbornly presses on, fueled by foolish wish. To cradle and to mend, to restore what was lost.

“Here. I’m here.”

She pushes aside the last of the shrubs in her way. “I hear y—”

Raven stops when she finally sees it. Her stomach tightens into a knot.

“Oh… Oh no…”

Raven crumples to her knees.

A handsome baby robin small enough to fit in her palm lies in the grass. Its belly is a deep orange, bright against the dark feathers on the rest of its body. The bird watches Raven with wide eyes—round and dark, lit by a faint spark.

Its wings are askew. Twitching and tender, set at unnatural angles.

“They’re broken.”

“It hurts, it hurts,” the robin babbles, fighting back tears.

A million feelings seize her at once. She blurts out a hastily cobbled response, held together by pins and tape and patchwork.

But it is a binding promise, a vow.

“I-It’s okay!! Leave it to me, I’ll figure something out!”

Raven slams down her basket and hurriedly digs through it. Her mind is suddenly blank, as though all of her thoughts were notes torn out and crumpled into a ball, then discarded.

Plants, a rock, some water. All useless. No medicine, no first aid kit.

Think, think. What else is there? What else can I do?

She grits her teeth.

Gripping her skirt and anchoring it in one hand, she tears with as much force as she can muster with the other. A loud RIIIIIIIP resounds as a piece of cloth comes loose, then a second one.

“I’m going to reorient your wings, then bandage them. Please bear with me, it might be… uncomfortable.”

The robin flails against her as Raven scoops it up, her finger firmly holding the bird down. Fear and distrust flash through its eyes, spiking when she comes upon a wing. She holds her break and snaps it flush to the robin’s body.

A bloodchilling scream tears through the forest.

Raven winces, but wills herself to work quickly, while the robin is still stunned by pain. She weaves a cloth of her skirt fabric in a criss-cross on the wing, securing it with a bow at the end.

The same was done for the other wing—and by the time both sides were done, the baby robin was in shambles, more tearful than it had been to begin with. Pain barks through its small body, plunging talons into what remained of its calm.

“My wings,” it chokes out, “I can’t fly…!! I can’t go home!! I’m… I’m going to be left behind!!”

“No. No, that’s not true! Your wings… They’ll heal over time. You’ll be back in the sky in no time! Your family will come looking for you…!”

She reaches for the robin, laying a hand on its head, smoothing the feathers back. It kicks and screeches and bites, snapping at the air until its beak cut clean through her glove.

“My wings, my wings…! It hurts, it’s over, it’s over…”

The robin is delirious, speaking nonsensically and in circles.

Raven’s hopes sink, and she pulls her hand away, gently setting the robin back on the forest floor. It continues to wail, staring up at the sky through the crevices in the tree leaves.

A sky so blue and so beautiful.

You’ve done what you could, a part of her reasons. Leave it. You can’t afford to exert yourself any more than you already have.

Raven’s chest aches, pushing back against the thought. He’ll be easy target for the predators. And… this is no way for him to live, either.

A little bird that knew nothing of the world. Dazed, afraid, and lonely. Longing for something now far out of reach.

Hadn’t this been her own position not too long ago? Wasn’t it still where she stood now?

Bird and bird, soul to soul.

Herself reflected back in the face of a mirror.

… No. That’s not me, not anymore.

Raven harshly balls her hands, creasing her skirt. Dirty, disheveled, and distressed, she’s the pauper in any fairy tale—but the sweat upon her brow sparkles like a tiara, and she wears the muck like proud armor.

Her spirit shines as brightly as her eyes.

She draws her magical quill. Its gemstone lacks clarity, the color shrouded by black blotches.

“I won’t go,” Raven declares. “I won’t give up on you.”

“I don’t believe this.” Riddle angrily swats at a low hanging branch with his staff. It flings away from him before recoiling, almost claiming his head on the rebound.

“For classes to be cancelled,” the redhead grumbles as he stomps over a log, “and the dorm leaders to be sentenced to busy work…!! The headmaster’s priorities are all out of line. A tardy student should be located and disciplined, but surely it isn’t necessary to deploy this many…”

“Riddle-san.”

A little ways ahead of him, Azul has craned his head over his shoulder. His mouth is twisted into a wry smile.

I don’t like that look.

Riddle bristles, but allows his tirade die down into an inquisitive quiet. “… You seem oddly unperturbed by this turn of events. This is wouldn’t possibly be Octavinelle’s doing, would it?”

“Perish the thought. What could I possibly hope to gain from forcing a campus wide lockdown? The Mostro Lounge will receive no customers in these circumstances.” The sunlight catches on his lenses as he pushes them up, but obscuring his eyes.

“I understand how to keep calm in stressful situations. Why, you saw it for yourself. The headmaster was simply beside himself with worry at the emergency meeting.”

“This matter is hardly urgent,” Riddle scoffs. “Even if Raven is the headmaster’s relative, a single missing student does not make or break Night Raven College.”

“That was not the case for your Overblot, now was it? Nor mine.”

He twitches, riled by rage. “That is a different matter entirely. That was Overblot. We were… out of control. Out of our minds.”

“… Permit me to ask you this, then.” Azul makes a full turn to face his fellow dorm leader. “Do you believe there is a unique magic that is capable of controlling the world?”

“What sort of a silly question is that? Of course there is no such thing.”

Azul laughs airily. “Impossible, yes? No one, not even Malleus-san, has such power. But… what of the living beings that inhabit the world? Then it would be an entirely different story.”

“That would be in the realm of possibility.” Riddle pauses, narrowing his eyes. “… Where are you going with this?”

“You recall Jamil-san’s unique magic, don’t you? It can seize the mind of another person, turning them into little less than a puppet.”

“I am aware.” Riddle grimaces at the grim reminder. “How does this relate to our mission?”

“What if I were to tell you that Raven-san’s unique magic is just as dangerous? Through it, forcing one’s will is possible—for if one speaks to the heart, the mind will follow shortly after.

“Thoughts don’t always disappear. They will linger and influence us well after the magic has faded.

“Unending rage that reduces all to ashes. Sorrow so deep it floods the earth and drowns its people. Joy strong enough to lift the sun and the moon on its shoulders. It would be a rewritten world with us set upon paths predetermined, for emotion is the impetus which compels us to act.”

“You don’t mean…”

“That’s right.”

Hers is a unique magic that rewrites one’s emotions.

[igotanidea]

The Raven's daughter: Morpheus x Matthew's daughter part 8 sneak peak

previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (catching up is highly recommended)

Masterlist : I started a story for Tom's character in Sweetbitter - check it out!

Part 8

Late nigh talking.

(***)

- What did you do to those men?

- I kicked their…. I mean, I was protecting myself of course. Waking world can be dangerous after all, so to quote one movie character, a women should know some tricks to keep herself safe.

- That is unusual. – Dream muttered eyes fixed on y/n

- Oh, really. You believe a woman has to be a damsel in distress? Waiting for her knight in shining armor? Probably locked up in some tower waiting for rescue? – she raised her eyebrows jokingly – long gone, Dream.  Life is hard for women and we gotta watch our backs for ourselves.

(***)

-It’s fine, dad – she assured him – It’s been so long ago I got through it. And if there;s a chance of forming some connection I’ll take it.

- What are you two talking about? Did you loose someone?

-Didn’t we all? – she looked down. Clearly not being through it despite of what she claimed– Loss is a part of life, after all.

-Who was it?

- My mother. It’s not like she died but she left when I was little. No explanation. No note. Just… one day she just disappeared. I never knew why.

- That was hard for both of us, y/n – Matthew cawed  - you lost your mother and I lost a wife.

- I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know why it came back to me now … - she sobbed - … maybe you were right. Maybe it’s just tiredness speaking. And I may actually be a bit drunk…

- You were drinking?!

(***)

- Boss? Is something wrong?

- I don’t know yet, Matthew. But I will find out – he turned around heading back towards the bedroom with the strong intension of talking to y/n.

-What are you… no! – the Raven flied after him, stopping Dream Lord from waking her up – don’t!

- Matthew, I warn you. This is not your place to stop me.

@marvelsmylife

@wickedly-grim

@mind-of-a-girl

@thereeallink

@lisacarolined

@boofy1998

@endlessdreamqueen

@mikariell95

@shadowluna25

@sippysthoughts

@kaoriloveskeiff

@venomsvl

[countrymusiclover]

7 - Let Training Begin

Part 8

She's Human or Weapon

@tyrionsprincess30 @groovy-lady @logolepsic-insomniac @bigbendyhorns @the-big-bad-klaus

This morning Charles got everyone up earlier to start training for when we would face off against Shaw. Pulling the grey sweatshirt over my head I lean on my elbows staring off into the fields until someone comes to stand with me. "So what exactly did I walk into the other night. Did you kiss my brother?" Raven said kinda of load so I shoved my hands over her mouth seeing Charles on the lawn talking to Erik about not challenging himself enough. Shifting my eyes back to hers I mumbled under my breath. "Ssshh. No I didn't - I mean we almost did. But keep your voice down." Lowering my hands I bite my lip getting suprised when she throws her arms around my neck in a hug. I break the hug seeing that she's still smiling. "Nothing happened between us, Raven. Plus he can't like me - my own mind plots against me everyday." She intertwined my hands with hers, giving me a weak smile. "I think you're mistaking my brother for someone else. He won't break your heart. Oh, I should set you guys up together." She squealed jumping up and down until Charles called my name. "Aurora, it's time for your training!"

"I've noticed that you and Erik believe that you can't use your powers without pain or anger. But I think there's another emotion locked inside." He pointed towards a statue that was at the end of the driveway. "See that. I want you to lift it in the air and bring it down here to us, understand. Good luck, remember I'm in here." He tapes his forehead stepping behind me when I take a breath. Raising my hands in front of me I concentrate on lifting it up in the air. The statue slowly rises in the air but I drop it when I try and bring it towards us. "Urgh. See I need the fear and anger to do anything!" Throwing my hands out in front of me I scoffed back to the professor. He strides up resting a hand on my shoulder making me look into his eyes. "You're thinking too much, dear. Just close your eyes and calm your mind. Come on, try again." I do as told raising my hands again forgetting that his hand is still on my shoulder. Levitating the statue again I turn my hands around actually bringing it right in front of us, dropping it lightly in front of our feet. "That's my girl. Well done." He pats me on the shoulder causing me to blush at his word choice but luckily he doesn't notice going to get Hawkie ready to practice flying from the giant satellite Erik moved earlier this week.

Standing by Erik's side Banshee wears a suit with wings that should carry him since he has the power of screams. Charles glanced my direction right before Erik gently pushed the young boy off the ledge. "Erik!" Charles and I screamed in unison causing me to raise my right hand about to use my power until the boy started screaming. In fact his screams carried him off the ground and he does a few tricks cheering. "Woohoo!" He flies down past us grinning blowing my hair in my face. Holding my hair back I smiled watching the kid cheering through the sky. Charles and Erik both watched you, overjoyed to see an actual smile on your face for probably the first time ever. Erik finally made eye contact with me where I raised a brow up to the man. Charles clearly mirrors the same look because Erik just chuckled to his friend. "What. You know you were thinking the same." Covering my face with my hands I shake my head still smiling that he actually pushed the kid off a satellite.

"Raven, where are we going?" I asked when she opened mh bedroom door pulling me up from the bed quickly. The President had made an announcement about a plan where the Russians would attack Cuba to start World War III with the US. So Erik instructed us all to get a good night sleep because tomorrow morning we would face off against Shaw. Before she came in I was trying to control my mind with the little tricks Charles had taught me so I don't have an episode during battle tomorrow. Apparently Raven has other ideas than resting for tomorrow because we ended up outside Erik's door where she starts to turn the doorknob. "Woah wait. What if he's in there." I throw my hands over my eyes but she just gives me a glare answering once opening the door. "He's playing Chess with Charles. They will be back later. So go wait in the kitchen he likes to have tea before bed." Before I could get another word out she was pushing me towards the kitchen, closing his door with a hopeful grin on her face. Throwing my head back I slump my shoulders muttering under my breath. "Raven, what are you getting me into..." Either way I go to the kitchen making myself some hot chocolate sitting on the couch in the main living room of the cough. Watching the stars in the night sky lost in my thoughts, for once aren't controlled by Shaw but instead by Charles Xavier.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[usafphantom2]

Japan buys 150 AIM-120C-7/C-8 missiles

Diego Alves By Diego Alves 07/26/2022 - 14:00 in Military, War Zones

The F-15EX Eagle II fires an AIM-120D missile during a test mission near Eglin Air Base, Florida, on January 25, 2022. The F-15EX can contain up to 12 AIM-120D missiles. (Photo Tech. Sgt. John Raven USAF)

The State Department has approved a foreign military sale to the government of Japan of medium-range air-to-air missiles AIM-120C-7/8 (AMRAAMs) and related equipment at an estimated cost of US$ 293 million.

The Defense Security Cooperation Agency delivered the necessary certification by notifying Congress of this possible sale today.

The Government of Japan has requested the purchase of one hundred and fifty (150) medium-range AIM-120C-7/C-8 air-to-air missiles (AMRAAMs); and three (3) AIM-120 AMRAAM Guidance Sections. Also included are AIM-120 missile storage containers and control sections; support for weapons and support equipment; software delivery and support; spare and repair parts, consumables and accessories; classified publications and technical documentation; Engineering services, technical and logistical support from the U.S. government and contractors; and other related elements of logistical and program support. The total estimated cost of the program is US$ 293 million.

The proposal to sell this equipment and the support necessary for its operation will not change the basic military balance of the region.

This proposed sale will support the foreign policy goals and national security objectives of the United States, improving the security of a great ally who is a force for political stability and economic progress in the Asia-Pacific region.

The proposed sale will improve Japan's ability to face current and future threats, defending the Japanese homeland and U.S. personnel "parked" there. Japan already has AMRAAMs in its inventory and will have no difficulty absorbing these missiles in its armed forces.

An F-35 fires an AIM-120C-7 during testing. Illustrative image.

The main contractor will be Raytheon Missile Systems, Tucson, AZ. There are no known compensation agreements proposed in relation to this sale. The implementation of this sale will not require the assignment of any additional representatives of the U.S. government or contractors to Japan.

There will be no adverse impact on U.S. defense readiness as a result of this proposed sale.

Tags: Military AviationJASDF - Japan Air Self-Defense Force/Japan Air Self-Defense ForceRaytheon AIM-120 C-7 AMRAAM

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