#check keepers history

[caranalyticscarcheck]

How can I check previous owners of a car?

To check the previous owners of a car, get the vehicle history report: You can get a vehicle history report from a service like Car Analytics. This report will show you information about the car's ownership history, including how many previous owners the car has had and the dates of ownership transfers.

[the-nothing-maker]

V - THE HIEROPHANT

(My card for @novaandmali's queer tarot project, Star Crossed, which only has one week left on its Kickstarter! Go check it out now! More thoughts under the cut:)

I really, genuinely love tarot and love using it as like, a self-reflection/meditation tool, so I was beyond happy to participate in such a project!

At first, the Hierophant was a difficult card to apprehend - it's often used as a representation of social norms, of seemingly unbreakable hierarchies, of crowds following teachings passed down from male authorities. I struggled for a bit (I thought maybe at first I'd focus on the "keeper of history" aspect, someone who transmits and transfers knowledge), but it was around that time that I learned a bit more about forcemasc, autoandrophilia and the likes, and I think it really made it click.

The thing is, some people would love nothing more than being told what to do and how to be by a male counterpart; there is safety, even joy in having someone tell you "don't worry, there's a space where you can meet people like you. I'll teach you how it works, I'll be your guide, you'll be okay". This is even a big thing, historically speaking (older queers taking care of younger queers !)

I kind of oppose the Hierophant and the Devil in that regard: both are about submission/domination, but you willingly and knowingly bind yourself to the former. Very sexy of you, if you were to ask me.

Also, I really wanted to draw hairier trans guys :p Though the card is of course representative of any masc-adjacent people. Butches, this is for you as well, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Anyway thanks for reading, I can get very passionate about tarot ahahah

[woso-dreamzzz]

Miss You

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're homesick

You like Germany.

You know you like Germany.

You get to do lots of fun things like order for Morsa at restaurants because she can't speak German like you and play at the park on the monkey bars.

You're happy to be back in Germany.

But, sometimes, your tummy gets all tense and swirly and you get icky feelings that you can't quite shake off.

"What's up with you, huh?" Morsa teases as you hide behind her legs.

You'd been excited this morning. You get to train with the Bayern keepers but seeing them on the pitch suddenly made you nervous.

You've never really trained with people without Zećira before and that makes you nervous.

The three of them are talking amongst themselves as the coach sets up cones.

Your gloves are already on. You're wearing your special Bayern training top. Your boots are laced up.

But you won't move and Morsa isn't forcing you to either.

You stay rigid, planted firmly on the spot as Anna is caught in a headlock by Cecilía and forced to receive a noogie.

You rock on the balls of your feet and keep a tight grip on Morsa's shorts.

"I..." You tighten your grip and shuffle closer to Morsa until you're pressed up against her. "Morsa...I want to go home."

"In a few hours," Morsa promises you, running a gentle hand over the top of your head.

"No," You shake your head," Home-home. In London." Your bottom lip wobbles. "I want Zećira and-and Jessie and Niamh! And Australian Sam! And Millie an' Guro an' Erin!" You press your head against the back of Morsa's legs and sob. "Want Arsenal red! Not Bayern red! I want to go home!"

People are looking over now and Morsa picks you up, tucking your head into her neck so you can't see everyone staring.

Momma comes over from where she was speaking to Georgia and Scottish Sam.

"What happened?" Pernille asks," What's wrong?"

"She's feeling a little homesick," Magda whispers," I think it's sunk in that she can't practice with Zećira and it's all spiralled from there."

You sniffle as you run out of tears, chest rising and falling heavily.

Momma gently removes your keeper gloves and wipes the wetness from your face. She's got girl-swan and girl-moose in her hands and you take them.

They still smell a little like your house in London and it makes your tummy go all swirly again as you breathe in their smell.

"Do you still want to practice with the keepers?" Momma asks and you shake your head.

"Are you sure?" Morsa presses," Not at all?"

"Not right now," Momma cuts in," Well done for trying, princesse. Do you want to sit at the side with Klara? You can try again later."

In all honesty, you don't want to sit with Klara.

You want to leave Germany and go back to Not-Wolfsburg. You'll even wear Morsa's Not-Wolfsburg jersey if it means that you can go back and practice with Zećira.

You don't want to wait for the next Sweden camp to see her again. You want to be with her now.

You want her to tell you how to anticipate penalties (one day, people will fear taking a penalty against you). You want her to show you how to boot the ball all the way to the other side of the pitch (one day, you'll win a World Cup doing that). You want her to show you how to be the very best goalkeeper in the world (one day, you'll become the most decorated goalkeeper in history).

You want Zećira to teach you everything she knows.

You want to be with her now, on the Not-Wolfsburg training pitch with your matching gloves and matching boots.

But you can't do any of that.

So, you sit with Klara.

You don't know why she's not training today but she's sitting on the sidelines with a ball of yawn and some weird long things.

She smiles warmly at you as Morsa sets you down next to her, kissing you on the forehead and promising to be back with Momma to check on you very soon.

Your heart still aches for Zećira and her steady mentorship.

You don't know how to be a good goalkeeper without her (one day, Zećira will hand you an award proclaiming you as the best goalkeeper in the world). You don't know how to do her proud without her being there (one day, Zećira will be in the front row of your very first match for Sweden). You don't know how you're meant to train with other keepers when Zećira is your idol (one day, you'll be the idol of so many other little girls who will wear your shirt and cheer your name).

Your Bayern shirt says your first name right now, emblazoned on the back like you're someone important and perfect like Alexia but you're not (one day, your club shirts will all have your first name). Your Bayern shirt is red like Arsenal (one day, you'll be wearing an Arsenal shirt). Bayern is in Germany, which used to be home but it doesn't feel like home anymore (one day, it'll be home again but you'll be wearing Wolfsburg colours rather than Bayern).

Everything is so similar but different and you don't know how you're meant to adapt.

You miss Zećira with all her heart but you love keeping so much and you want to practice at Bayern so in the future you can be the best (one day, you'll be the very best).

But your tummy ties itself in knots and you get shaky legs when you see the Bayern keepers mucking around with each other, like how you used to muck around with Zećira.

"How big are your toys?" Klara asks you.

You frown, staring down at girl-moose and girl-swan.

"Why?" You still sound a little tearful but Klara doesn't comment on it.

"Well, they're part of the team aren't they? Like you? I think they deserve their own shirts."

"They're too little for jerseys," You say," They don't make ones little enough."

"I'm knitting some," Klara says and that gets your attention so you shuffle a bit closer," They won't have names of anything but they should be recognisable enough."

Her fingers move around until one of the jerseys are done.

She's right. They're very little and there's no room for any of the fancy words or numbers but it's still very clearly a Bayern jersey. She finishes it off and hands it to you, where you very carefully put it on girl-swan.

She looks like a Bayern player now, like she's part of the team.

Girl-moose gets one too and now they both look like Bayern players.

They look like they belong in Germany with this group of girls. They used to belong with Caro and Nilla or moster Frido and Ingrid at Wolfsburg. Then they belonged with Zećira and Jessie at Not-Wolfsburg.

Now, though, they belong with the Bayern girls.

Your keeper gloves sit next to you and you very gently slip them on, clenching and unclenching your hands to make sure they still fit properly.

Zećira got you these gloves for Christmas.

They're special because they're little versions of hers.

You think that means you've got a bit of Zećira in Bayern with you.

"Klara?" You ask.

"Hmm? What's up?"

"Can...Can I go and practice in goal with the others?"

"Do you want me to go and walk you over?"

"Yes, please."

[kwanisms]

The Library of Illusion :: Cult of Dionysus Event

Welcome to the Library of Illusion. A place where legend and reality go hand in hand.

Enter each section if you dare. Your task is simple: collect the keys to unlock the Restricted Section and find the treasure hidden within. Will you suceed?

Status: COMPLETE.

➥ ateez ot8 × fem!reader

summary: After finding a box full of information on the infamous Library of Illusion, something only spoken about in her childhood, and the hidden treasure it contains, Y/N decides to track down the library and find out if the rumors are true.

genre/themes/au: non idol au, fantasy, science fiction, horror, history, crime/mystery, adventure, supernatural themes, slight biblical & demonic themes

warnings: adult dialogue, sexual content (mdni 18+), elements of bdsm, female reader × ateez, see each part for further warnings

a/n: this has been a long time coming. I'm so excited to finally be able to unveil this event as we've been holding onto it for a while now. Please make sure to check out the other wonderful works by the other writers on this masterlist!

Thank you so much for reading, as always this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. Banners made by me with help from a template made by @imlevis. All my works are ©️ kwanisms. If you enjoy these works please reblog!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @flowerboykun @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

special tags: @thelargefrye @hwasdollie

join my taglists: permanent | ateez.

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The Witch & the Lamb ⛧ Of Hellfire & Saints ⛧ The Library of Illusion

↬ dive into the backstories of the Demon & and the Keeper of Keys to learn how Hongjoong became a demon, why Seonghwa made a deal to become a vampire and how the Library of Illusion came to be. »» coming soon

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[breelandwalker]

Podcasts for Spooky Season

It's that time of year again! The leaves are turning, the pumpkins are ripening, and with the increasing chill in the air comes a craving for chills of a different kind. If you're looking for some great audio horror this season, here are some podcasts you might enjoy. Check them out on your favorite podcast app!

(Please feel free to add your favorites in the notes!)

Fictional Frights

Chilling Tales For Dark Nights

Knifepoint Horror

Pseudopod

Scary Stories Told In The Dark

The No-Sleep Podcast

Real Life Is Terrifying

And That's Why We Drink

Be. Scared

Disturbed

Let's Not Meet

Let's Read

Morbid

Scared To Death

Tales From The Break Room

The Poisoner's Cabinet

Wine & Crime

History & Folklore

A Scary State

Freaky Folklore

Frightful

Lore

One Strange Thing

Southern Gothic

The Cryptid Keeper (back catalog)

Horror Movies

Alone In The Dark

Copulators Die First (back catalog)

Dead Meat

Pod Mortem

Queerdo Babes Trom The Horror Pod-O-Rama

Ruined!

Classic Horror Tales

Horror Hill

Readings by The H.P Lovecraft Literary Podcast

The HorrorBabble Podcast

You can also visit Librivox for free public domain audiobooks, including MANY collections of classic scary stories, including a fantastic rendition of Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow."

If you're looking for more podcast recs, you can also check out my posts on witches and witchcraft in history and debunking occult conspiracy theories and New Age nonsense.

Happy Halloween! 🎃🎧

[the-moon-devi]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒

Erda (894) ~ Past life recollection, South node energy, the ability to see into the past. This asteroid is similar to Urda (167).

Circe (34) ~ Your magickal gifts, Where/How you isolate yourself to practice your craft. Your striking, and special qaulities. (This can show working with plants, and herbs!; I have this in my 12H, and it sits to close to my ASC.)

Magion (2696) ~ The Magician/ Mystic; One who knows how to work with magic. Depending of the sign can show what type of magic you're skilled in. For those of you who practice any kind of magic consistently, I recommend checking the Persona Chart for this asteroid!

Celestia (10) ~ Heavenly one, connection to the cosmos / most high. Angel energy, and may have the gift of divine insight, and cosmic downloads. Keeper of cosmic wisdom. This asteroid somewhat reminds of the asteroid Akasha (5881).

Merlin (2598) ~ The Echantress/ Magician; Occcult Wisdom, Warrior energy, alchemy, majestic energies

Hypnos (14827) ~ The gift of dream sight, prophetic messages through dreams, the ability to Astral project. Dream magic/ Astral projection may be a very strong gift for you. If you have this in the 1st house please protect your energy. Most of the time these natives have very strong dreams. (I have this in my 1st house, and my dreams have always been very intense, and prophetic.)

Copy & Paste⤵

894,34,2696,10,2598,14827,167,5881

Cassandra (114) ~ The Seer; This asteroid represents intuitive abilities, and the gift of foresight. The saying for this asteroid is literally, "The one who goes unheard". Cassandra was a Greek priestess who worked under the God "Apollo". She had the ability to provide prophetic messages. This was very useful in Greek history. If you have this in the 1st or 10th house this could manifest as you having very strong and potent prophetic abilities but people may not believe you until it happens.

Telephus (5264) ~ Telepathy, the gift to connect to others minds, and break into the subconscious or conscious mind of others. The ability to know what others are thinking. Gifts with telekinesis. This can be a very great gift to have!

Anubis (1912)~ Necromancer, this reminds me of the death card. The gift of possessing very ancient knowledge of alchemy, you could easily work with chaos or dark energy. Transmuter energy.

Copy & Paste⤵

114,5264,1912

Pythia (432) ~ Oracle of Delphi; The Oracle/ High Priestess "one who can channel the word of god" The messenger. Divination, prophecy, & magic.

Medea (212) ~ The princess, The wise one; one who can work with herbs, holistic healing.(I've first hand seen a very powerful herbalist with this in their 10H! It was in pisces btw!/ conjunct their North Node!)

Deucalion (53311) ~ Divine Intervention, death, The passage of renewal, magic, manifestation.

Aesculapia (1027) ~ The Shaman, The Healers Journey; Herbs, healing, restoration, health, mystical, holistic healing, Naturalness.

Kaali (4227) ~ The Dark Mother; Kundalini Energy, The Cosmic Mother, One who see's all. Tantric and taboo energy, the height of transmutation energy, "The Left Hand Path", enchanting and creation energy (Love this asteroid so much, Kaali was one of the first dieties to reach put to me, and I have this ☌ my North Node!)

Copy & Paste ⤵

432,212,53311,1027,4227

Asteria (658) ~ Magick, Oracles of the Night, Stars, Practicioners, starseeds, vivid dreams, astrology, prophecy, dream Magick.

Sibyl (168) ~ A Woman Who Has The Gift Of Foresight; prophetess, witches, messengers of the gods. Oracles, divine messages, foretelling.

Hekate (100) ~ The Triple Goddess; dreams, cancerian energy, moon, ghost, keys, opening new doors, mediumship, Magick, dark goddess, the dark mother.

Black Moon Lilith (H21) ~ Magical, Dark Magick, chaos Magick, sex and tantric Magick, hypnotic energy, psychicism, shamanism.

Hades (h41) ~ The occult, darker magic, banishment Magick, the ability to transmute negative energy, karma.

Urania (30) ~ Astrology, muse of the stars, astronomy

(I have this is in my 10th/ ☌ Mc, and ⚹ ♆ 🤭)

Copy & Paste ⤵

658,168,100,H21,H41,30

If you guys enjoyed this, Lmk if you want to see a Part 2! Happy Spooky Szn! 🔮🪄 Til' next time....𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝔁𝔁

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝕯𝖊'𝕷𝖚𝖝𝖊

ℭ𝔥𝔢𝔠𝔨 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔒𝔲𝔱!

©𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König is Naturally Nerd!König

A lot of people suggest nerd!König (which is essentially regular König in my books) would be into DnD, or Star Wars, or Lego, but I disagree.

Normal and Nerd!König are obsessed with miniature armies. He has little models of airplanes and tanks that he puts on display in his room. He only has two World War models (and even then it's WW1), and those are the planes that Baron von Richthofen flew. Otherwise, he collects medieval minis and paints them.

He creates whole dioramas of them, and they're surprisingly good. He has the money to sink into his hobby, and it fills his time when he's not at work. He fidgets a lot, but he's gotten good at doing fine detail work. They're not award winning, but they're really quite good.

In addition, he's a major reader. If you want to know more about what König reads, check out this post here. If you don't want to read it, the gist of it is that König loves reading and reads all the time. He's probably the type to sniff and say the book was better than the movie. He's right, but he doesn't need to be so snobby about it.

Through the military, he has an extensive knife and gun collection. He can use all of them, sure, but he really doesn't need that many. He used to have only one room dedicated to them, but he's since had to move twice and torn down a wall most recently to make a big enough room for everything. He kinda sucks that way. He really takes up a lot of space.

However, Nerd!König didn't end up joining the military. He instead went into nuclear engineering and earned an excellent living to fund his expensive hobbies. He also ended up having more time to devote to his crafts, which led to...

More under the cut.

Nerd!König is a Snob

König is a pathfinder 2e type of guy. He's that pedantic. He'll have the rule books memorized, and he has links to download the pdfs ready at the flick of a wrist. He's ready to convert you. Your DnD supplies will be absorbed into his Pathfinder 2E.

A big reason he's into Pathfinder 2E is because he was introduced at a young age and so collected the supplies, but when he heard about the Wizards of the Coast scandals he decided he'd use that as his reasoning. He gets up on a soapbox about it whenever he can. He really, really hates Wizards of the Coast. It's a firey rage that burns within.

He also likes Warhammer. He's a disgusting Warhammer lover. He plays a ridiculous Adeptus Mechanicus army that he's painted himself. It's surprisingly good painting, too. Having painted Adeptus Mech before, I'm telling you it's really hard. He makes it looks easy with craft paint and crazy glue. He's disgustingly good at it. I hate him for it. How dare he be so good. He is genuinely a fantastic painter. That said, we saw what happened with the last Austrian painter, so maybe it's a good thing he stuck to painting minis.

Nerd!König also loves to collect ancient weaponry. To make it worse, he actually practises with it and has become pretty decent with it. He's feared among the LARPing community because he's known to be a fearsome competitor. He'd be more well liked if he didn't accidentally break people's wooden shields so often. As it is, he's not fully blacklisted, but he's skating on thin ice. He'd be banned for sure if it weren't for the fact that the forest on his property is amazing for LARPing.

Finally, he's into Renaissance fairs. He goes and does public sword fighting, once again, LARPing. He'll also show off his weaponry collections, and will gladly go on hour long spiels to anyone unfortunate to ask about the history of an item on his table. He is on good terms with the blacksmiths, and he's always having to pay the local seamstress to fix his clothing back in the traditional style. He will also go up to the ferret keeper and play with their ferrets, and then beg you to get some. He just wants a cute little ferret. Can't he have a couple? No, not one! They need playmates. You need at least three.

Either way, Nerd!König is a big silly guy. He's a bit friendlier and gentler than regular König honestly. He also is super passionate about his hobbies. He's so excited to show you his hobbies, and he really wants you to enjoy them too.

Just so you know, all these hobbies are expensive. Very expensive. It's a good thing he's making so much money, because otherwise you'd go bankrupt overnight, because, "Games Workshop released a new edition of the walkers! I need them for my army!"

[ohmy-gojo]

my fav fics that you all just HAVE to read (jjk, haikyuu, mha, original fics, mostly fem readers sorry!)

note: these are all from quotev.com and long stories! all fluffy and cute with angst sprinkled on top. no smut!!

O1. jujutsu kaisen

a) for tomorrow's sake by @/lavendersky!! literally so fluffy and cute i might die

b) otherworldly attraction by @/lavendersky again. she just writes so good my fav writer :( this one is a little angsty for u angst hunters

O2. my hero academia

a) changing history by @/summerblack!! mc changes history and this story will change your life (SUPER long omg but so worth reading)

b) the futures keeper by @/summerblack, spin off ver of changing history with aizawa/oboro and others as love interests, you adopt the villains before they turn one

c) leave your mark by @/kikyo851. another banger just read all her mha works you wont regret at all! honorable mention to blue embers(touya x reader) by her its so cute

d) made to destroy by @/lavendersky

O3. haikyuu

a) serve by @/mxtcha !! supa cute fic

b) fly high, baby by @/glaive the dialogues are funny and its slow burn ig (read it loooong ago)

O4. original yandere stories

a) crushed velvet by @/kikyo851 (just read all her stories, this ones just my fav)

b) object of desire by @/summerblack. if i could read it for the first time again I would trust me its tew good

c) its a pain to be a prince by @lavenoor!! genderbent disney princesses (she dont support disney btw) another life changing fic

d) blind date by @/microwaveness. such a silly story ughhhhh has my heart

e) re awakening mishaps by @/shookookies.

f) girlfriend for hire by @/lavendersky

i hope these are not too much (i have so much more, just check my quotev library from @/tesoro) trust me and give them a try they all EAT.

read and gimme feedback yall i have no one to talk ab them 😭

[stitchzin]

Viago and Rook De Riva

It's in my head how much Astraea Rook De Riva was sad and defeated to leave home.

Viago saw that wild dalish tiny thing, with a very recent Vallaslin, still hurting and reddish, with some parts bleeding. Astraea as a good eye on the street. She would collect intel for his jobs, watch his exits until Viago finally could bring her in the house because she was wild and untamed.

Viago knows he never tamed her, she just trusted and liked him enough to addapt to him. In the game, Rook's idiot act is always brought up, but it's loyalty is never a question.

Regardless, she choose Viago, and later Viago had to choose to send her away. She might be out for nearly a year.

In her absence he starts to wonder how does a recent full grown dalish ends up in treviso streets. He investigates but the best he get are her friends in town who are a street artist, a botanist and a dressmaker. They say the same, she came out of nowhere.

Is only after Ghil'lanin fight that Lucanis tell him, that she was avoiding Treviso now because her former clan was in the area and they were helping those injuried. Viago goes to check on them, and give some supplies.

The Keeper tells Viago, Teia and Lucanis, who was already charmed by her, that she was banished at the age of 13, because she was in the woods collecting mushrooms and humans spotted her, she run to the camp and the humans came after the dalish making them run for their lives loosing people on the attack. She was considered a danger to the clan and casted a side, she had a Vallaslin, she was considered an adult thus, punished as one.

She was a prodigy, the youngest in their history to get a Vallaslin, a mythal vallaslin, modest on the face. And had other much more complex Vallaslin on her hands. Not a single tear, not a single cry on the hours that took to complete the hand and face process.

But a mistake was enough to erase that. There was no guilty, they still think it was the best choice.

They didn't saw what Viago had saw, a child. Not an adult. A kid.

Viago has realised he did the same. After years of perfect score, one mistake exiled her, but he was trying to keep her safe. He was. He is.

But now he wonders if she sees like that.

Lucanis goes back to the lighthouse to see Rook, he had in hand good chocolate, Halla milk, her favorite cookies, plus some clothes. He said Viago send it. Plus a good pair of boots, those came from Teia.

She gives a huge smile, with some tears.

He tells Viago.

On the next day she shares the sweet with Lucanis, and only Lucanis. Nothing ever tasted so sweet to him.

[bluemerakis]

┌── ˚*❀*̥˚ ─── ˚*̥❀*˚ ──┐

✐ᝰ bluemerakis

┗━━• ❃ ° •° ❀ °• ° ❃ •━━┛

❝ paper trails ❞

⤷ Word count: 2.5k

Pookies it was my birthday yesterday, so in honour of that, I wanted to write a lil something something with coryo 🤭 not anything grand, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless

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WARNINGS:

Implied smut ig, teensy bit fluffy, just coryo being the cutest little gentleman ever (outside the bedroom)

SYNOPSIS:

There was nobody else that Coriolanus trusted more with his cherished garden of roses than you. You were the keeper of his flowers, tending to them with a delicacy that only you were capable of. He’d always admired that about you—how your green fingers always seemed to yield a larger bloom rate than his own ever did.

You’d always thought that you were nothing more than a district eleven nobody gardener to Coriolanus, but little did you know that he knew pretty much everything (however little) there was to know about your history, including your birthday. He gives you a gift of his own, an invitation he’s hoping you’ll accept so that he may celebrate your birthday with you—Coriolanus Snow style.

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Crouched low to the ground, you bit back a hiss of pain as a thorn pricked the tip of your index finger, withdrawing your hand to wipe away the welling drop of red at your fingertip. You fashioned more conscious caution as you returned your hand to the culprit rose and gingerly bent the stem towards you, your other hand gripping a pair of garden scissors. You nipped the stem below the dying rose head, the decayed, featherlight petals drifting to the ground to form a scattered painting of a crime scene.

Each time you were forced to cut away the wilted flowers, a piece of your heart ached. It was a necessary practice in order to keep the bush healthy and set it up for a successful next season, but it didn’t hurt any less to know that you’d once poured as much effort into preserving that very flower, and now you would lay it to rest simply because it had lost all grace and beauty—and hence value. Funny, really, how much that concept seemed to equate to the real world.

Overhead, the sun seared on, taking full responsibility for the beads of sweat that now dribbled down your temples. You dropped your scissors to the ground, it’s fall cushioned by the decayed bodies of your rose victims, and wiped your dirt-strewn hand across your forehead with a sigh. You took a moment to glance around the garden of the Snow estate, your chest prickling with a sense of pride at the perfect order you’d managed to bring it to.

Coriolanus Snow didn’t much trust anyone to tinker with his garden, it was one of his most prized possessions—a symbol of sorts that only he knew the meaning of. No matter, he’d taken you in from the districts and trusted you enough with the duty of being his gardener, and he was a very generous host in return. You stayed on the property—in this very garden, in fact, in your own little rustic cottage. He didn’t often make a stop there, mostly tending to his own business, but there were a few occasions where he did manage to pass-by and would check in with you.

The last thing you’d expected him to be was generous—and kind. It was practically an unspoken rule in the Capitol for the higher classes to spit on and degrade anybody from the districts, merely because your lesser existence was offensive to their way of living. You had to admit that you didn’t much hold any love for the Capitol citizens, either, but you thought that your dislike of them was far more justifiable and valid.

But there was an air around Coriolanus Snow, not exactly the most humble, but he was far from boasting his wealth and luxury of a lifestyle from the rooftops of Panem. It was almost as though he were too afraid to, as though this life would and could be robbed from him in an instant. It gave you the impression that he was not like most other Capitol-born citizens—perhaps he’d known what poverty was like, whether it was him or someone he knew that had endured it. Maybe that was why he’d taken pity on your life in the district and offered you this opportunity to come and live with him in return for your services.

There were many possibilities at play, but because Coriolanus Snow was such an enigma of a man, there wasn’t much hope of closure. As if the mere thought of him was a summons, you heard footsteps clatter down the bricked walkway winding through the gardens, turning your head just in time to glimpse that signature red ensemble of the man who’d been plaguing your thoughts for the last hour or so.

You instinctively rose to full height to offer him a modest bow of greeting upon his arrival. It was a gesture he’d insisted on neglecting for the first few days of your presence here, but he’d soon after given up on the matter when he realised that you would not listen. Now, going off of the sheer delight that seemed to glint in those deep blue eyes, you thought he rather enjoyed the importance that your greeting seemed to imply.

“Mr. Snow,” you offered a formal greeting, feeling suddenly conscious at how ragged and sweat-stained your gardening dress had become under this hot weather. Quite frankly, you hadn’t expected him to pay a visit today, given the scorching weather. You only wished that you could have presented yourself in a better manner.

Coriolanus stood towering before you, his chin tilted down to glance you over as he merely said, “Coriolanus, please.”

You were hesitant at his correction, before offering a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Coriolanus,” you repeated softly, feeling out each syllable of his name. It felt odd to use his first name outside of your thoughts, but even then, you almost always addressed him by full name.

You noticed the way Coriolanus’ eyes had lowered down your figure, and the self-consciousness only seemed to worsen at the idea that he may be judging your appearance. But you were taken aback as he leaned forward to take your hands into his, his thumbs ghosting over the back of your hands before he turned them over to survey your palms. The way he cupped your hands in his felt far too intimate, and you hoped by the grace of all the Gods that the dirt plastered to your face was mask enough to hide the colour inevitably warming the apples of your cheeks.

“Have you not been using those gardening gloves I gave you?” Coriolanus asked as he trailed his thumb over the cuts littered around your palm and across your fingers. He lifted his eyes to yours, they were shaped with genuine concern.

You were taken aback at how blatantly careless he was in his handling of you, and for a second you almost felt like an equal in status. Capitol-born rarely laid their hands on district occupants, as though they feared the poverty and dirt they carried were a plague to be avoided at all costs.

It took you a few seconds to find your tongue. “No, I haven’t,” you admitted, then quickly added, “not for lack of trying, though. I’ve never used gloves, even back in the districts—they make it difficult to grab ahold of the stems, and I find that my cut becomes rather clumsy with them on. I prefer the unveiled contact with my greenery.”

The white-haired man seemed to nod with understanding, a faint smile stretching his full and soft lips. “I guessed as much,” he responded. The confusion that swept across your face prompted him to explain. “I never developed a taste for gloves, either. When I inherited this estate, the garden was in a ghastly state. No matter how many gardeners I managed to enlist, none of them could bring my roses to justice. For a while, I did all of the work myself, and the garden thrived.” He paused with a sudden and wistful look. “But as it seems, my time wore thin with all my newly acquired responsibilities, so I turned to the districts in hopes of finding a suitable gardener to continue my work.” He paused as his eyes lowered down to your hands once more. “And then I found you.”

Your heart lurched at the way Coriolanus’ fingers began to caress the curves of your palms. You felt that somewhere along the line, you had missed the part of the story where the two of you had grown close enough for this sort of intimacy. But even then, you didn’t find yourself withdrawing from his touch. It felt oddly soothing, the way he dragged a constant, rhythmic pressure across your torn and aching skin.

“Why did you choose me?” You asked suddenly, causing Coriolanus to lift his head with that lopsided smile.

“I just knew you were right for me,” he responded levelly. “When I found your stall, I watched you for a while—the way you tended the flowers and assembled the bouquets for that Capitol celebration order. I thought the work looked familiar, I’ve seen it decorating most—if not all of the foyers of the upper-class Capitol buildings. The bouquets have always had a signature crown to them—one flower in the centre that sits a little taller than the rest of them, like a king that gazes down across his people. I saw you do the very same thing with all of your orders, and I knew then that you were the popular artist whose flowers haunt me wherever I walk.”

You let slip a giggle at his last words, not caring for etiquette at this point. You thought that you’d long since left formalities behind when Coriolanus had taken up your hands.

“I was unaware of just how much of a fan you were, Mr. Snow,” you teased, instantly catching your fault and correcting yourself. “Coriolanus.”

“Involuntarily,” he chuckled, his smile quieting as his eyes flickered across your face rather intensely. You would have cowered away from his stare, had it been casted under a different circumstance. “In any case, I knew I had to have you. Your talent and potential would have been laid to waste crafting posies and ensembles for sanctimonious Capitol parties. I doubt either one of them could properly recognise and appreciate the true effort imbued into their side-piece decorations.”

You pursed your lips at those last words, feeling rather propelled by a sense of pride at his praise and recognition of your hard work. “Putting aside the “sidepiece decorations”—could you, Coriolanus, properly appreciate my work?”

“If you have to ask that, I’m afraid I’ve been too subtle in my efforts,” he responded. Your lips quirked at that, only to gape in slight shock as Coriolanus lifted both of your hands to his lips, and in elegant sequence, placed a tender kiss onto your knuckles.

You swore that the very skin of your hands shrank away from the feel of his soft lips, an explosion of shivers sent along your rigid arms. “Coriolanus—” you started softly, but he cut you off.

“I chose you because of what your potential had to offer me,” he said, slowly releasing your hands to return back to your sides, and there they quivered as he went on. “But also because I knew what I could offer you. Nobody understands the scars of labour more than I do—don’t forget that I’ve been kneeling in your place, doing your job, long before I brought you here. Gardening, it isn’t just an industry—it’s an art, one that very few can appreciate, letalone master. But you—you’ve perfected it. I’ve never seen flowers so full and abundant in bloom.”

“You’re being too generous.”

“No,” he politely disagreed, a faint smile trailing after. “I’m simply giving credit where it’s due. Please, allow me to commemorate your hard work.” Your lips parted to question what he meant by those words, but you were silenced by the shuffling of his hands as he reached into his crimson blazer and pulled a white rose from concealment. “Take this.” He offered you the rose, and you gingerly accepted it.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed that it wasn’t a real rose at all—not all of it, at least, but one whose petals were expertly shaped from paper. The stem of it was real, but the thorns had been carefully carved away, the leaves left behind already starting to wither at the edges.

“Coriolanus,” you breathed, tilting the paper rose in every direction to marvel at its beauty. “This is so beautiful. I never pegged you for an arts and crafts guy,” you added with a chuckle.

“Neither did I,” he admitted. “It was one of the ways Tigris and I used to pass time as kids.”

You glanced up in faint surprise at the mention of Tigris. When Coriolanus had risen to power and status, shorty after inheriting the Plinth fortune, it was very difficult for his history to remain private. Everybody—even the districts, knew that Tigris was his older cousin, and that their relationship following his newly acquired fortune had since been estranged. After all, it was difficult to conceal the fact that his cousin no longer partook in his life, staying separated in her living quarters as well as neglecting the courtesy of attending his events of honour to show support.

You wondered whether Coriolanus ever regretted growing so distant with Tigris, but as you silently gazed at him, his expression let on not even the slightest hint of his thoughts or feelings on the matter. He was fashioned from composure, the only way to truly get an answer would be to hear it straight from his lips. But you wouldn’t pick at that particular scab, not when you had hardly known each other for more than a month—or spoken for more than a few minutes.

“Well, it’s beautiful,” you told him, gently clasping the stem between your fingers. “Thank you. I’ll cherish it forever.”

“I’m afraid you won’t have the opportunity,” Coriolanus said. You furrowed your brows. He made a slight gesture of his chin toward the rose, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers. “I left some notes on the petals. Feel free to read it once I’ve taken my leave.”

Your tilted down to the rose, your eyes narrowing in an effort to spot said note on the paper petals. After twirling the rose around for quite a bit, you managed to find the neat scribble of his handwriting nestled into the middle ring of petals. Before you had the chance to read the first word, Coriolanus’ voice stirred your focus.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said before offering a smile and turning to take his leave from the garden.

You lifted your head and watched him disappear around a winding corner. “Goodbye!” You called after him, not sure he’d heard you at all. You turned your attention back to the rose and manoeuvred your fingers between the various paper petals, managing to find the beginning of the note. You push down the first petal and began reading it’s contents:

Your breath hitched in your throat at that last sentence. Coriolanus Snow, you little flirt, you thought, but you couldn’t deny the flush of your cheeks as you entertained that possibility. You pushed the thought away as you continued reading:

You chuckled at that statement. You weren’t going to be the one to say it. You bent down the last petal, the writing a lot less than the last few notes.

You averted your attention to the pathway that Coriolanus had long since disappeared along, your heart brimming with a sudden warmth. Nobody, other than your now deceased family, knew of your birthday. It had never been anything special, only a grim tally of your miserable years in the district.

You wondered how he’d come to obtain this information, and you realised then just how true to his word he’d been—he very likely did know every single thing about you. But you hated being perceived, especially by somebody you knew nothing about. So you decided then and there that you would take up his offer on tonight’s dinner,

And then, you intended to find out his every secret.

═════════════════

This was so fun and refreshing to write. I’ve got about 7 unfinished drafts sitting around that I’ve been working on now and again, but I’ve been itching to get something complete and posted—so although this is something small, at least it’s something lmao. Sorry to disappoint y’all smut lovers, but I’ve got to keep it clean now and again.

Anyways, I just turned 19 yesterday, which feels surreal because I’m literally just a 17 year old teenage girl. I don’t think I’ll ever feel grown up. Every birthday is a goddamn existential crisis 😭

I hope you enjoyed this, likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Mwah!

𝔁𝓸𝔁𝓸

[comfortless]

*ೃ༄ Some thoughts on a lighthouse keeper König with a fem, harpy reader! 18+ MDNI.

Signing away months of your life for routinized labor comes with little internal protests for him, he’s done it before with military work. He’ll do it again without question; anything, anyplace to keep him away from a house that’s never felt like home.

König’s blessed with an abundance of skills and the strength to perform hard labor. He’s disciplined enough to embrace the solitude, maybe even thinks of this contract as a reprieve from other people, from creature comforts and the hustle and bustle of ordinary life.

He packs only the bare minimum for himself— clothing he doesn’t mind lantern oil spilling onto, thick books ranging from myth to histories, a trusty hunting knife he’s been keening for the time to polish and sharpen to bring back to its former glory. Food and shelter are already provided for him in a cabin battered by sea breeze and saltwater just a bit too small for a man his size mere paces from the pillar of light that he’s resigned himself to tend to.

Each day is spent checking systems, keeping the haunting yellow light clean and functioning well, jotting down weather readings, and meticulously keeping things orderly. The occasional sound of a boat’s horn would bellow out, as close to a voice calling it’s thanks as it could get from his self-sought isolation. The ocean is lively enough for him, anyhow. The sight of a whale a short distance off shore isn’t an uncommon one, pods of dolphins flipping up into the air like performers, a show just for him. Even the sky above is a sight with flocks of birds he could not name passing by, or sea gulls flying high above only to ground themselves on the rocky shore to cock their heads at him; he imagines that if they could speak their small, shrill voices would ask him ‘What are you doing here?’, and he’s thankful he would never have to answer.

Each night, he reads. The bed is a bit small for him, a cot, really. He has to curl in a way that makes him feel like a dog left to waste away outside, knees nearly tucked to his chest and an elbow propped to keep his head up while he turns to pages of his books. He always wakes to his head resting on a page, the scents of old ink, amber and cedar fill his nose when his eyes flutter open.

He makes himself simple breakfasts, the scent of black coffee lingers throughout the cabin each morning. Occasionally it’s bacon, occasionally eggs in a basket, something as simple as his life has become. He thinks about his days of war when he walks to the shore with his mug in hand, wistfully watching the waves, haunted and volatile, so very much like the ocean of his eyes.

It’s never quiet. The gulls call from above, their wings outstretched as they sail through the air, and the waves make raucous noise as they crash against the rock, wearing down every fine point to something softer. A part of him longs to be worn down too, to pry that aching from his heart, the scars tarnishing his body, the callouses on his hands, dissolve them all in dark, salty waters with a gentle ebb and flow. He’s never thought himself to be one deserving of gentle things, but he greedily yearns for them anyhow.

He admires the sea shells that wash up on the sandy patches of the shoreline, some are pearlescent and untarnished, he dares not touch those. The ugly ones with splintering cracks remind him of himself, he’ll allow his hand to reach for those, toss them back into the hellish abyss where they belong. He doesn’t need a reminder of what he is, why he’s here. He wants to surround himself in pretty things that no one can dirty with their fingerprints, not even himself.

A torrential rain breaks up the monotony of his duty for a few days. He’s soaked to the bare bones running back and forth from the cabin to keep the light functioning, wiping away condensation from the glass that confines it and fiddling with the old machinery to stop the massive light from flickering. He holes himself up there, in that old tower for two long, sleepless nights. He imagines ghosts, ghosts of the people he’s killed without remorse dancing at the corner of his vision, taunting him endlessly from purgatory with their frantic dances and unnatural jolts. When he turns his head, their faces are gone, carried away by the ocean breeze that rattled the walls of the lighthouse, yet can not touch him.

He’s hardly able to keep himself upright when the rain finally stops. Addled from a lack of sleep and an ache from hunger, he slinks down the steps to the wet ground outside. There are no gulls fluttering about with their squeals and questions and begging, and for the first time since he’s come here, the water is calm. The sun beams down from a cerulean sky, not a single cloud fattened and gray with rain water in sight.

Only a bird.

König’s taken note of the wildlife since he’s come, all of the sea creatures that would swim about, the pelicans, petrels and gulls that would make their rounds. He’s never once seen a bird this big. It’s wings stretch wide, gracefully flutter to soar higher only to rear back, knees kicked up to its chest in its graceful descent. It doesn’t ground itself to beg him for a crumb of toast or shriek at him, it only perches atop the lighthouse, looking down at him as if exacting some strange, silent retribution.

The bird shifts in place for a moment as his eyes squint to get a better view of it. He’s mesmerized when he takes note of a very human face, soft nude flesh in place of feathers right down to the ankles that house plush, downy feathers and the coarse skin of scales leading down to brutal, curved talons. Her breasts heave and legs tense as she stretches her wings out to take flight. With a single leap she takes back to the air, twirls in it effortlessly as if she’s in the midst of the most elegant, seraphic dance to return to whichever whisper of heaven she descended from.

The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The salt and foam must play their tricks, because he’s no where near deluded enough to believe he’s seen an angel in a place like this, that one would think to visit him at all.

Still, he’s an awful bastard, because his cock twitches in demand from the sheer sight of her flying far, far away from him. He doesn’t allow himself to touch pretty things, but god he wants to touch you. He settles for returning to his cot and tugging down the zipper of his pants to rest his length in his hand, slow, deliberate strokes with his eyes closed, bringing himself to ruin from just a fleeting memory.

He chalks it up to sleep deprivation the next morning, a waking wet dream. Even before coming to this little island, it had been well over a year since he had been in the presence of a nude woman. Work quickly makes him forget, keeps his hands tied and his mind emptied of softer flesh and beautiful skies.

She comes back with the next storm, a shivering mess in the rain. A rough gale struck her down and he watched her spin out amongst thick, wet clouds, her form aglow with the backdrop of thunder. She falls to briny water, and without thought he’s left his cabin to dive right in after her, scooping the poor thing up to haul her back to the safety of a warm home, a roof above her head.

König wraps her in the only blanket that he has, feels her gaze on his back while he stokes a fire all for her as she sits and shivers, trying to gather her bearings. Human kindness is unexpected, unwarranted, really. She signals great storms, her talons cruel. He looks at her in awe when she nestles against his shoulder, her eyes locked to his, both faces warmed by the glow of crackling flames and comfort.

He tells her he isn’t worthy of an angel wasting her grace on him. She tells him that nothing sent barreling out of the sky like she had could be as pure as he believes.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Guardian of the Library | Yandere Raiden Tameemon

Yandere Pantheon College AU (5/7) | Master List

The thing about being the librarian at The Pantheon College meant you had the beautifully neutral position as a keeper of the college’s extensive library. So while you spent your working days reading what you liked while occasionally checking books and movies out to students, things were peaceful. Now on the off chance the different groups of students decide that the library was the place to fight you had the luxury of calling security and apparently, the mere mention of the job had people running. So you were pleased to rely on this mysterious person to scare the naughty kids away. That is until he came to you. 

The beast of a man easily collided and broke the wall of the raised entryway, tiredly yawning as he scanned the library. His brown eyes slowly take in your slice of heaven until landing on you. From there it was history.

You were nose-deep in a fantasy novel, the world you were reading about was on the cusp of war the romance finally reaching its peak. It was miraculous that you noticed him when you did. Standing so monstrously tall he somehow blocked out the light from the decadent chandelier that adorned the ceiling above your desk. 

“Can I help you sir?”

“So you like books huh?”

The smile on his face was far too wide and the muscles squeezing at the restraints of his white t-shirt told you this wasn’t going to be a question about books. With a sigh, you tucked your book away and scooted closer to your desk. 

“I do, now what was it you needed sir?”

“Your number if you don’t mind!”

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Rolling your eyes you prepare to reach for the line-connected phone, setting your hand beside it in a silent threat. 

“Look kid I’m far too old for you and if you think harassing the staff is going to get you a date then you’d be sorely mistaken.” Watching his expression drop and his mouth open up, you held your finger up. “If you aren’t here to check out a book, I’ll have to call security on you sir.”

His smile returned again and he leaned on the desk, completely engulfing you in his shadow. 

“So feisty! That is my favorite type!”

“I mean it kid I’m going to call!”

He laughed again and you had had enough, picking up the phone you dialed the number. The ring was audibly loud, making you hope that that would have this student running. But it didn’t. He just stood there smiling.

Then there was ringing again.

But if wasn’t from your phone.

And it wasn’t the default ringing from before.

Instead, it was some J-Pop tune that just kept going on

Until the giant man pulled out his phone declining the call. 

“Well guess I’ve got one of your numbers now. So when’s your lunch?”

Great.

Just great.

“I don’t leave for lunch. I eat here. So you’re better off finding someone—”

“Awesome I’ll just come back here for my lunches then!”

You wanted to groan loudly more than ever but there were usuals already watching through the shelves. Relenting you figured it’ll be less noisy to let the giant security guard come in and do as he pleased. 

Plus having the guard dog of the school hanging around might not be so bad.

______________________________________________________________

“Oi, you work here right?”

You’d already been floating around this group for a while now. They weren’t regulars and they came in already looking in one section of the library. 

Tameemon wasn’t here  On account that there was some more violent activity on campus, he couldn’t spend all his time pestering you. He whined about it the first time someone called you since he wasn’t picking up. 

Even if you could call him, you didn’t want to be dependent on that guy.

“Tell this rag that book is mine, I had it first!”

His cronies hovering around all nodded, occasionally threatening the quivering kid clutching a book in the fetal position. One of your regulars. Immediately you recognized the book he was carrying—one of his latest finds. There was no shot these rowdy hooligans had this book first. 

“On the account that I’ve seen him start this book earlier today. I’m quite certain he had this book first.”

“Hah!?”

“Don’t you see all of us! We’re witnesses!”

“Biased witnesses that haven’t stepped foot in this library before today. Now please if you can’t quietly resolve this I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The whole group was getting angry, you figured this might cause problems later. Which is why it surprised you when the main aggressor grabbed you by your collar, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

“You wanna say that again to me, booknerd!?”

THWACK!

It’d been a while since you punched someone, you briefly shook your hand at the burning in your knuckles. You’d have to put ice on that later. Holding your forearms up you slipped off your shoes to finally put some of your training to use. 

“Y-you hit me!?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you bother me or the peace of this library.”

The whole group looked irate, some tensing up and getting ready to run. It would be six to one. Hardly a fair fight but one you didn’t mind. If it was for your library you’d be willing to take however many you needed to.

“You’re gonna pay for this–”

Lunging at you, you were ready to take him down or at least do your best to try. That is until a dark shadow overtook you and with a sigh you let your guard down. The large hands took you by your waist, gently putting you to the side before Tameemon stood in front. 

“I can finally go all out on you little rats!”

“W–w-wait no!”

“H-hold on man t-they swung on his first!”

“Y-yeah! It’s not our fault!”

Tameemon cracked his knuckles and tilted his head in a mock stretch. 

“Then all the more reason to join the fight.”

Tameemon pulled some salt from his pocket throwing it up in the air, and then a sadistic smile spread across his face.

Escorting the now uncurled student away from the scene, the screams and hollering of the ones dumb enough to mess around your library bounced off its walls. Sending the students still in the library out you made a call to the janitor, telling him to swing by after the campus classes ended.

Looking at the aftermath trumped any gorey horror book you could enjoy. The remains of the students were beyond battered, some of their limbs looked as though they had imploded. Gooey oozing red chunks scattered around with bits of bone, their faces resembling a cartoonish recreation of eating something sour.

“So did I do good?”

NaturallyTameemon was covered in blood, his shirt in tatters, and his fists drenched in blood. The blood that was on the wall, wasn’t something to be proud of and neither does the blood drenching the carpet beneath his feet. But the bookshelf was clean…. meaning the books were fine.

“If you’re talking about the books then…yes, you did a good job..”

“Enough for a kiss?”

“Mmmm.”

“Plleeeaaaassseee!”

“I don’t know how you are going to explain the bodies to the other side.”

“It’s fine the janitor’s cool! Cool enough to let us make out in their closet.”

“Maybe if you didn’t scar my regular.”

“What?! Come on I’m sure he didn’t see anything. C’mon, baby!”

[rowan-ashtree]

Keeper of Earth

this is a gift for @riseandfallofsecunit because they drew my OCs (look at them!!!), written about someone in my OC world getting some Elemental magic (explanation of magic system here. i think that's all the context you need)

1.1k words, no CWs (let me know if i missed anything!)

this is my first time posting something set in this world - I'd love to post more if people are interested :)

🌱⚡🌊🔥☀️🌑 | 🌑☀️🔥🌊⚡🌱

You've been guarding the Vessel of Earth for a number of years now.

It's not as cool as you'd originally thought.

Not the Vessel. That thing — a circlet of vines that bloom with gemstones rather than flowers — is extremely cool.

Guarding it is what's boring.

Oh, you know it's an important job. You take the responsibility very seriously. You just thought it'd be more… exciting?

Nevertheless, you do what the Keepers’ Guild asked of you: check on the Vessel and update its History each day, stay mostly isolated, move around often, and grow a garden wherever you live.

The garden doesn't need to be anything special, they'd told you. Just something that shows the Element that you care. So you plant whatever's in season, wherever you happen to be. Currently, it's tomatoes and bell peppers, plus various herbs and flowers.

You're kneeling in the garden now, gently untangling weeds from the soil to be transplanted away from your vegetables. One annoying thing about keeping the core of all nature magic in your toolshed: it feeds all life. It doesn't make growing a garden any less work.

The small toolshed sits nearby to the garden. You've gotten better at not glancing at it every three seconds just to make sure it's still locked, though you learned quickly that the vines growing on the walls and roof need to be checked on and pruned frequently, or else they'll slowly dismantle the shed in their hunt for the magic they can sense within.

It also attracts animals, which you'd been warned about, but not prepared for emotionally. One day, you'd walked outside to see a large wildcat napping by the shed, and you'd made a strangled gasp-scream that had woken the cat. It had stirred, looked at you, then gone back to sleep.

Okay, so it was kind of a cool job.

(Still not very exciting, though. Not in the ways you'd hoped.)

You gather your tools and the small bundle of uprooted plants, and move to the second garden plot, the one where you put the weeds. Many of them are hardy enough that you just sprinkle them across the ground. A few of them, you take the time to re-plant.

Very early on, you learned that the Element of Earth doesn't appreciate needless death. It encourages the natural cycle of things, of life, death, decay, and rebirth, but the weeds in your garden have as much right to live as the vegetables you plant. So you simply relocate them, to show the Element that you care. (And so they don't strangle your basil.)

Standing up again, you wipe your hands on your pants — you gave up on keeping them free of dirt stains a long time ago — and move towards the shed to put away your tools.

When you unlock and open the door, the gentle multicolored glow of the Vessel’s gemstones spills out. You block as much of it as you can with your body and quickly shut the door behind you, even though you know there's no one around. Call it paranoia, but old habits die hard.

As you hang up your tools (yes, the shed houses incredibly powerful magic, but it's still a toolshed), you notice that the light seems greener than usual. You look closer at the Vessel. It hangs on a nail like a celebratory wreath, about the size of a woven flower crown. One of the smaller precious stones, the one that's usually colorless and crystalline, is now a deep, bright green.

Carefully (always carefully, though the Vessel has never harmed you), you reach up to touch the green stone — but before you do, it falls off the vine and into your palm.

You flinch and gasp and close your fist around it. In all the years you've guarded the Vessel, through all the places you've lived, this has never happened before.

You open your hand slowly. The bright green glow is pulsing now. Starting to panic, you think back to what the Guild told you — was there anything about the stones falling out? Have you been doing something wrong this whole time? Oh, stars and smoke, did you somehow manage to break the Vessel?

Trembling, you reach with your free hand to touch the other gemstones, even going so far as to gingerly wiggle one like you would a loose tooth, but they all seem as secure as they've ever been. You try to remember the History, if any previous guardian recorded something similar to this.

You're staring into the gemstone, flashing greener and brighter and faster, when you realize you're spiraling. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then another, letting out the tension in your body with each exhale. Freaking out won't help anything, as you're well aware, so you try to let go of the panic, then open your eyes to try again.

The gem’s light still pulses on your palm, but you realize something — it's pulsing to the beat of your heart.

Huh.

Well, it is nature magic, and you're definitely part of nature. Is it trying to tell you something?

You take several more deep breaths, feeling your heartbeat slow, and watching as the gem's flashes slow to match.

Panic fades, replaced by curiosity. You try to project that feeling out, unsure of what to do but ready to receive what the Element wants to give.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, the gem glows brighter, and brighter, still matching your heartbeat — then disappears.

You have a split second to be confused — until you feel something blooming in your heart, your limbs, your mind. For a moment, you're acutely aware of the world around you: the fungi in the shed, the vines surrounding it, the beetles under the grass and the bedrock far below. Most of all, the Vessel, still glowing softly, now missing a gemstone. You've always known the whole world is alive (how could it not be?), but it's more than that. It's gloriously bright, it's overflowing with energy. With all this life around you, it's no wonder the Vessel glows.

Slowly, gently, the awareness fades, but you still feel awash with the beautiful warmth of your Element.

… your Element?

You open your eyes (you aren't sure when you closed them). The dim toolshed looks the same, but you feel different. You look at the Vessel again — note the missing gem, the mild glow, the hardy vines. You reach up, touch the empty socket, and realization blossoms.

The Vessel of Earth has gifted you magic.

It's not your Element, really. It doesn't belong to you (nor does it belong to anyone), but you are a part of it, now.

You realize you're leaning against the wall for support. There's a new, tiny crystal already growing in the Vessel's empty spot. You look down at yourself. You look no different from before, but inside…

Well. Your wish for more excitement seems to have come true.

[holycatsandrabbits]

Want to write a mystery based on history? Check out my blog for posts about the unsolved past, with writing prompts!

Roopkund Lake Skeletons: unexplained remains of at least 300 people found at an isolated lake in the Indian Himalayas, from 800 and 1800 CE

The Beast of Gevaudan: History’s most well-documented werewolf, France, 1764

The Mystery of the Moving Coffins: tales of supposed unexplained movement of heavy coffins in burial vaults, most well-known in Barbados, 1808-19

The Female Stranger: unidentified decedent, Virginia (US), 1816

Spring-Heeled Jack: well-documented apparition or cryptid, England 1837-1904

The ghost ships Mary Celeste (1872) and Carroll A. Deering (1920)

Lizzie Borden: unsolved double murder, Massachusetts (US), 1892

The Flannan Isles Vanishing: disappearance of three lighthouse keepers, Scotland, 1900

Disappearance of Everett Ruess: missing person in the Utah (US) desert, 1934

Planes lost in the Bermuda Triangle: Flight 19 (1945) and The Star Tiger and Star Ariel, (1948-49)

Dyatlov Pass: mysterious deaths of 9 hikers, Ural Mountains, 1959

A werewolf prompt:

Escapist fiction. It’s possible the Beast of Gevaudan was not a wolf or dog, but another large creature, like a hyena or lion. Local zoos would have been private, so who knows what people were keeping? Obviously, once the killing started, the owner would have taken down the lost pet posters, so nobody owned up to owning the beast. People were not expecting to see anything other than local creatures in the woods, and they might not have had much familiarity with lions anyway, so it would probably make sense for them to call it a “wolf.” As for plots, there’s room for a sweeping historical novel starting in the place where the wild beast was captured, on the ship sending it to France, in the private zoo, and then out into the woods to become the Beast. Or what if it was not one lion that escaped, but a breeding pair? How would the locals cope with a growing population of big cats in the woods?

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers

[tobiasdrake]

Dalish Elf Origin. Now we're getting into the lore that was strongly recontextualized through Veilguard.

Now we're getting into things that directly intersect with the Veilguard revelations. After Andraste's revolution gave the Dales to the Arlathan descendants and then Andraste's church took the Dales back away from them, scatterings of elves refused to join human societies and convert to Andrastianism. They instead went their own way to try and remember what they could of the Evanuris and their true heritage.

Right from the get-go, the first codex entry is about the gods the Dalish worship.

Elgar'nan, Eldest of the Sun and He Who Overthrew His Father

Mythal the Protector

Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf

Andruil the Huntress

Dirthamen the Keeper of Secrets

Ghilan'nain the Mother of Halla

June the Master of Crafts

Sylaise the Hearthkeeper

Falon'Din is missing from the list.

The endgame that the Dalish seem to have in mind is to simply outlast humanity. They're just gonna wait it out until human civilization has collapsed, then reclaim what's theirs.

Though some Dalish are satisfied with what they have now. The "Aravels" codex entry details the journal of Taniel, a Dalish who thinks the elves have it better now than they ever have. Taniel longs for neither Arlathan nor the Dales, but believes that the Dalish are more free as a nomadic people than they've ever been in history.

Considering the history of Arlathan and Tevinter... uh.. yeah, that checks out.

Also, sometimes the Dalish piss off the woods and get turned into trees. That just. Happens. It happened in Arlathan Forest in Tevinter, and it also happened in the Brecilian Forest in Ferelden.

The Brecilian Forest codex entry tells the story of a clan who cut down a tree they shouldn't have. The tree had a spirit living in it and, despite the spirit begging them not to, one of the Dalish cut it down anyway to make bows. The spirits' retaliation made their whole clan into tree statues of ex-people.

In any case, the Dalish origin features the uncovering of a mysterious ancient ruin. Deep in the Brecilian Forest, on the opposite end of the continent from Arlathan, is an old site made from human architecture but with effigies of Elven gods.

Not this. This is a statue is of a woman gently roasting her forehead.

I was referring to this.

According to Tamlen, this is one of the Evanuris, though he neglects to name which one unless you press him on it. It's Falon'Din, the one that the codex forgot to mention.

Creepy, yes, but Tamlen assures the Dalish Elf that Falon'Din wasn't an evil god. He's wrong. Trust your instincts, folks.

(Fortunately for all of us, Falon'Din's been dead since the end of the second Blight, so we don't have to worry about whatever the fuck is being depicted here.)

But the key point of interest inside this ruin is, of course, this.

The Eluvian, which has the truly interesting feature of being guarded by a Blighted bear.

During the investigation of the Eluvian, Tamlen describes seeing a vast underground city and a great darkness. The darkness he's describing is, of course, the Blight. This Eluvian is implicitly connected to one of the lost Dwarven thaigs that the Darkspawn took.

Right here at the very start, a connection is made between the ancient elven gods, the Blight, and the Deep Roads. This temple to Falon'Din has a blighted Eluvian to some ancient thaig.

(Perhaps to his Archdemon Zazikel?)

Duncan, notably, miscredits the Eluvians as being of Tevinter origin. The Wardens are aware enough of Eluvians to know that sometimes they "break", as he puts it. They just... become Blighted out of nowhere, and start radiating Blight to everything that touches them.

(Because the Eluvian network passes through the Fade and the Blight itself also comes from the Fade. The Blight is tainting Eluvians from the other side.)

Also there's an opening to the Deep Roads. Apparently we have Dwarves to credit for that, as the blurb describes them as having "dug too high and too frugal and struck elves".

As the dwarves emerged from the vanquished Titans, it's entirely likely that they didn't realize there was an upper limit on digging at first.

The fun thing about the Dalish Origin is that, although this is not the Dalish clan we'll spend a major chunk of Origins's story with, it is a Dalish clan that we get to know very well in the second game.

Merethari will regret this decision.

Ilen has a bit of history for the clan to share. The Sabrae clan were among the first to flee the Dales during the second collapse of Elven civilization. That would have been around the year 7719, when the Dalish kingdom fell and the Sabrae people fled to the Brecilian Forest.

Upon arrival in Brecilian, the elves made a pre-emptive strike against the barbarian clans of the Clayne Alamarri, who Ilen is confident would have attacked us anyway. Probably not unfounded but it's still worth noting that the Sabrae started the hostility between the Clayne and Sabrae.

Note that this is centuries before the formation of the Ferelden kingdom in 8041. When they say "the Clayne", they mean Fereldans. The Clayne tribes are the Alamarri banns, arlings, and teyrnirs that Calenhad would one day unify into his kingdom.

In a sense, the Sabrae are still at war with the Clayne to this day

There is also a Dalish historian but he only shares the basics. After being freed from Tevinter, we built up the Dalish kingdom and sought to reclaim our lost history and lore. But then the humans were bitter that we didn't worship Andraste and fucked us right up.

Elven legends say that their ancestors were immortal and possessed magic that humans could scarcely dream of.

This is accurate. They're remembering the time before the Veil, when elves could draw on power from the Fade and the Blight. Solas isn't exactly wrong to think that the elves kinda-sorta long for him to tear down the Veil. They don't know that's what cost them so much. But it is, and he's misguidedly accurate in lamenting it.

Codex entries on the fall of Arlathan go a bit more into detail. Ancient elves were eternal and "never-changing", hinting at their origins as Spirits. They drifted through life in slow-motion, in a state where a conversation could last years or even decades.

The elves were here first. Well, the Titans were here first but the elves were here before the humans. They recall the first humans arriving from Par Vollen, the very same island that would become the arrival point of the Qunari.

(Did humans come from the same far-off lands that the Qunari came from?)

The Dalish recounting of Arlathan's history remembers nothing of the Titans, of course. But they do recall a "quickening" effect from contact with humans, whereby the elves' interactions with humans made them become short-lived and mortal as if somehow reflecting the humans' nature.

(Most likely a distorted interpretation of the Spirits deciding that they wanted to become corporeal. Perhaps it was contact with the humans coming in through Par Vollen that set the Spirits' minds to becoming the human-like elves?)

They don't recall the war between the Dread Wolf's forces and the Evanuris. But they do remember the newly arrived humans eventually forging their fledgling civilization into the Tevinter Imperium. And the fall of Arlathan under Tevinter conquest.

They also claim that "human contact" with the Tevinter turned every elf mortal. Probably misremembering the effects of the Veil going up.

They do, however, recall a pretty accurate account of what became of the Evanuris. Fen'Harel approached the "ancient gods of good and evil" and offered them a truce. They would exile themselves to their respective realms and never enter the other's lands.

However, they did not realize this was a trick. Fen'Harel betrayed them and sealed all the gods away forever, and that is why they were unable to come to Arlathan's rescue when Tevinter violence fell upon them. Now Fen'Harel roams the Fade, watching over the prison of the Evanuris to ensure they never escape.

That's... pretty much it, yeah..

Poking around the Dalish camp brings out some interesting bits of lore as well. Despite ostensibly being the sun god, Elgar'nan is remembered for fighting and winning a war against the sun.

According to legend, Elgar'nan was the son of the earth and sun. However, the sun grew jealous of the earth's love for Elgar'nan and lashed out, destroying all the creatures of the earth. Elgar'nan retaliated, attacking the sun. They fought until Elgar'nan tore the sun from the heavens and cast it into a deep abyss.

With the sun's defeat, the sky was left blanketed in shadow, with only shimmering twinkles of the sun's blood dotting the sky. Elgar'nan basically invented night by kicking the sun's ass.

While this is obviously the distortion of mythmaking, it certainly does explain why his Archdemon Lusacan is known as the Dragon of Night by Tevinter.

(Of note: The elves are spirits who assumed corporeal form. The Maker allegedly created the spirits and the Fade first, then went on to create the corporeal world. Elven legend says Elgar'nan ripped his father from the heavens and buried him in the earth. The Maker, if he exists, is missing for reasons unknown. Is this something? IDK.)

All in all, hanging out with the Dalish is fascinating when you know the context behind their legends.

[gingiesworld]

Hey

I wanted to ask i you can write some thing about fem reader who can shift into an huge wolf and natasha who finds out. Mary something fluffy with a bit Angst :)

Btw i love your storys, your a really good writer

Secrets (Drabble)

Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf Fem Reader/ Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Angst and fluff

A/N: Thank you nonnie for this request and your sweet words <3

18+ MINORS DNI

Natasha thought she knew everything about Y/N from the moment they had become official. Although Y/N had a secret that only Wanda knew about, especially as the two have a history with Hydra. Although Wanda had volunteered thinking she was doing it to save her country, Y/N was captured because of her bloodline.

Wanda was in control of being her keeper, she helped with calming her down whenever she felt overwhelmed or like she was going to lose control. But the friendship between the two didn't go unnoticed by the assassin. Jealousy had sparked something from within and she found herself questioning her relationship with Y/N.

"Do you want a fresh drink?" Y/N asked her at one of Tony's parties.

"Please." Nat smiled at her as Y/N took her glass and headed to the kitchen. Smiling as she got the drinks but soon as she spotted Steve sitting a little too close to Natasha, she felt anger and rage as Nat looked uncomfortable.

"Just a moment Vis." Wanda told him as she noticed Y/N's stare, heading straight for her best friend and dragging her outside the compound. "Just breathe Y/N." Wanda tried as Y/N paced.

"I just." She tried to speak but her breathing increased. It was Vision who had went to ask Natasha to follow him since they both had a plan to catch the two in the act. But what they never realised was that it was the complete opposite to how they thought.

"Y/N." Wanda spoke in a soothing voice, Y/N shook her head no as her body started to change. Her screams filled the air as the bones broke as they changed form. Once Y/N had fully changed, Vision went into protective mode and flew over to tackle Y/N away from Wanda. "VISION!!" She yelled as she used her powers to stop his movements.

Nat slowly approached the the three of them with caution.

"She is dangerous Wanda." He told her as Wanda shook her head no.

"She has nevet hurt me in all of the years we have known each other." Wanda told him through gritted teeth as she went to check on Y/N, running her hands through Y/N's hair as she whimpered.

"What is going on?" Nat questioned as she watched both Wanda and Y/N in her wolf form.

"She is from a long line of werewolves and she was taken by Hydra." Wanda told her. "Hydra had her kill someone in order to activate the curse and ever since I have been their for her."

"I just." Nat looked at Y/N's whimpering form.

"Y/N had never cheated on you." Wanda stated. "Sorry, it's just that your thoughts are very loud and I couldn't control it." Nat just nodded as she gazed at the grey wolf. "Y/N loves you so much Natasha and she comes to me when she fears she can't control herself. She is afraid of hurting you so she kept this secret from you."

"She's hurt." Nat stated as she noticed the blood on her fur.

"She will heal." Wanda told her. "There is a lot that comes with this knowledge Natasha and Y/N needs you to be impartial."

"I love her Wanda and I will not go anywhere." Natasha spoke firmly as she knelt beside Y/N. "This secret won't come between us." Wanda smiled as she watched the assassin started to stroke Y/N's fur. "I don't care that she turns into a wolf, all I care about is her health and happiness."

"I love you too Natasha." Y/N whispered as they soon noticed Y/N had changed back, Wanda was fast to give her the hoodie she had on to cover her bare form. "And I am sorry that I felt as though I couldn't trust you with this."

"That's ok." She whispered as she brushed Y/N's hair from her face. "Let's get you inside and we can have a bath and watch a movie."

"I would love that." Y/N kissed her softly as Wanda cleared her throat.

"Well, I guess I best get Vision in line before he gets everyone to turn on Y/N." Wanda told the two as she soon disappeared, leaving the two lovers under the stars as Nat pulled her back in for a loving kiss.