#her liking all of the flowers used as offerings for spirits I’m dead

[profgalvarez]

Gabriel watched as her eyes rolled back once more, accompanied by a smile that seemed less annoyed than the actual gesture itself. Either way, the sight burned in his memory and stayed there, the slight hint of a semblance of annoyance agreeing with her in a way that he was enjoying far too much. Even when she fought against his hand she kept her gaze, lack of fear and reserve an solid part of her being, grinning as if she couldn’t be happier to put him in this dire place in public. He knew she would only continue on thinking he might be too timid to take the step, and now that she had made herself abundantly clear, having completed his promise of taking her out on a proper date there was next to nothing holding them back.

He took a mental note of the gemstones, extra measures of calculated concentration when she spoke, the task harder than usual. He wished for a moment it wasn’t so hard and she wasn’t so distracting, or rather that he cared much less so he could spend more time enjoying the way she looked when she said it, but he cared all too much. Underneath the table was an entirely different story altogether, hand shifting her foot where she creeped up before, gasp falling from her perfect, pillow lips as he did. He almost had to hold back some noises himself, not only pleased by the look of shock on her face but also the feeling, and how much better it would be if they were alone.

It was the first time he’d seen her this way, for lack of words and in shock - something he imagined she wasn’t very often. Power was never something he was inherently driven by and he had nothing to prove, with the exception to her provocations. He wanted her to know that he had all the fixings to be a gentleman, and just enough sense to know when she might want something just a little worse.

Beau took it as well as she could, a soft gasp just loud enough for him and no one else to hear, caring less and less about everyone else in the room. He imagined the noise again, the look in her eyes as they widened and softened again, sitting in the anticipation and keeping his hand at her feet. As always, eyes unchanging but now an even more sinister smile joined them. He didn’t imagine he’d have many of these moments of surprise, the look on her face more of a delight in person than in thought. For once, he wasn’t the only one untying himself from her grasp, rendered speechless and entirely observant, stuttering and a mess for words. It only made it worse that he couldn’t make good on that promise just yet - and worse when they were working each other with so many people all around.

The crack of jokes still caught him off guard, laughing and shaking his head in warm disapproval. “See now you’re just bein’ mean.” He grinned at her. “I’m not that old yet. Still got a lotta life in me. You know for us we got all the time in the world. I’m real good at practicing, though.” Gabriel caught the waiter from the corner of his eye, moving things aside for him as he placed the various chicken and steak on the table in front of them.

He released her leg back to its place under the table, sorting themselves out before they could seen as anything less than completely discreet. “About the same for me, I’m not too picky. I’ll watch whatever you put on long as I can watch you while it’s on.” Moving his hand on over the glass he thumbed at the condensation forming there, taking a sip from his glass. “Food is a whole other beast..” he sighed, looking back at her and her hopeful expression, no doubt already plotting in her head the next meal she was going to plate for him, perhaps breakfast.

“Honey you could never touch a pan again in your life and I’d still be at your door every day, you’re not getting rid of me that easy…” he chuckled, wishing he could reach across the table and touch any and every inch of her skin, hold her face in his hands. “To be honest with you I don’t eat home at much, at all anymore, really, unless it’s been microwaved. When I did it would’ve been all that heavy stuff, comfort food. Mashed potatoes, mac and cheese. Used to love chicken pot pie but it’s been years..” Taking one of the red meats on a prong he slid a few in, grilling some of the strips and looking back at her. “Probably bout as much cooking as I’m able to do. You want me to cook these for you, sweetheart?”

Gabriel laughed it off, still taken back by the sheer nature of her ease in her own skin, a trait that often took whole lives of accomplishing. He had already been staring way too long at her lips and how the words looked as they greeted him, glancing up at her eyes when she mentioned it in the first place. He tried not to let it get to him so easily, not having expectations for how their date might end. Just to be here was enough. He opened his mouth to say something, a bus boy leaning in who had quite clearly overheard some of their back and forth.

He held in a laugh of his own, hands staying in place and unaffected by the movement around the rest of the table. Though at no care to the young man helping at the table, Gabriel couldn’t stop smiling, warmed by the touch of her soft hands proud to keep his. “Is that out of touch? My students would call that an ‘ick’.” He laughed as she teased him, happily taking any light hits to the chest. “They funnel all this slang to me, but it’s always the worst stuff, never anything useful.”

He was rambling, just moments before ending his rant at the feel of her other hand on his, gentle fingers tracing shapes into the skin of his arm. It sent a shiver through his back, a feeling of comfort but now it was doing more than that, eyes looking at her through hooded lids. It felt like they were alone in the restaurant, like no one was around except for the two, non existent, non-factors.

He had already been looking at her for far too long by the time she looked back up at him, stopping what she was doing with both her hands in favor for something else. Gabriel felt her toes at his feet, a smile touching each ends of his mouth as she did. If only the gesture had been so innocent, his own hesitation being handed to him at the expense of her traveling leg. She looked so beautiful while she teased him, knowing exactly what she was doing as she did. The movement did nothing to improve his situation, pulse quickening, heart starting to race.

She toyed with his questions, important ones he’d asked purely for want of remembering for the future. He couldn’t say it out loud for being far too soon, but in his heart he knew he would need to know for later, and really he did want to know. But she was edging her leg near the base of his groin, blood pooling and making him swell in his pants.

Gabriel took her curious foot in his hand from her own grasp on the table, catching the sole of her foot in his thumb. He massaged at it, rubbing in circles on feet equally as soft as her hands. His breath was quick in his chest, but less now because she was smart mouthed and more because she was just as smart with her actions, too. “You’re making it real hard not to wanna leave.” He said, voice lowered deep to a tone only they could hear.

“You know I’m asking so I know what colors you like for flowers, stones for jewelry..” Gabriel moved her foot, shifting her a smidge in her seat as he grazed her foot over what she’d been inching to before, a throbbing jump when he felt her make contact, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He let her get a feel of it, how she was hard she was making him, how much of an effort he was making to be a gentleman, but also so she could feel his size. As stupid as it was, he wanted her to know and know that he really was trying. And he wasn’t so scared to think she wouldn’t want to, either. “I gotta know what movie you like to watch when you’re sick.” he held back a groan, pulling her foot back to press a thumb into her foot again in circles, sighing for a breath of relief. “You’re really gonna be the death of me..”

[cursecuelebre]

Ancestral Veneration and Why it’s Important

This is going to be a post about a topic that people seem to forget or deem unimportant even fearful about with either good reasons or just never thought about it. I just wanted to mention YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORK WITH ANCESTORS IN YOUR PRACTICE this blog is mostly for those who are interested in it and not sure what ancestral veneration is.

I’m a pagan and a witch that practices Ancestral veneration in my practice, not around it but it’s definitely a big part of why I practice certain paths. I’ll go in beginner tips, what to expect and the myths, the offerings and the recommendations. But let me go a bit into the importance of Ancestral Veneration and worship in human history since it’s still prevalent today.

Historical importance of Ancestral Worship

Ancestral worship and veneration has been at least one of the oldest religions that humans have ever believed in. Archaeological evidence shows the early humans taking care of their dead and burying them for respect and dignity maybe even courtesy to the deceased. It became sacred to them, imagine back then without fully understanding about the world someone that you spoke and saw now gone, it’s a profound moment one’s life that they must believe that their spirit lives on and they themselves wanted a peaceful resting place. It’s a cycle, many cultures and religions believe that life is a cycle, death is never the “end” rather an end of a journey to a new part of one’s life.

To this day people honor their deceased loved ones, visiting their graves, offering them gifts at their resting places, speaking to them, having their picture on a table surrounded by their favorite flowers, etc. Honoring the dead and respecting the dead is a very revered part of human life and something that we all would like to expect when we’re gone from our living family. Spirits also related or not, the dead as well should be treated with outmost respect and dignity like our ancestors did.

Some cultures like the Romans believed that if the spirits especially ancestral spirits (Lares) weren’t appeased they become angry if worshipped improperly or their will have not be been fulfilled. In Ancient Greek tradition they would place a coin in the mouth for the deceased to make sure their spirits would go into the afterlife safely and less traumatic. Each culture and society had a different way of how the ancestors would live in the afterlife.

Even in the Christian Bible shows the significance of ancestors, there is a reason why genealogies are included in the Bible. How Jewish people revere Abraham as their founding father since he is the first Hebrew patriarch which is very important to them and their religion. How even Jesus is related to David on both sides. Even immediate family is important like Jesus’s mother Holy Mary. In Norse Paganism it’s said that the kings were descend from gods like the Swedish Royal family related to Freyr. In Shintoism it is said that the First Emperor of Japan is related to the Sun Goddess Amaterasu. Japan and other many East Asian countries have a strong relationship and traditions regrading Ancestors.

Why Ancestral Veneration?

Ancestral Veneration is generally taken outside of paganism and witchcraft a very sacred thing for families, they can heal, they can come together, grieve together, reminisce together especially if they knew that person in life. But also asking the deceased loved ones for guidance and protection, to help their family in life whom they love the most. Plus this can help especially if you are into past life regression, we reincarnated with our ancestors many times and they have been able to see us in their time and now. It can be really insightful to understand of who we were in those lives.

Whatever legacy they left behind that you admired from them is continued for generations to come as well as heirlooms, a mother passing down her sentimental items to daughters or their children alike it’s a remembrance of what they were known by as well.

“Cows die, family die, you will die the same way . I know only one thing that never dies: the reputation of the one who’s died.” Havamal, Stanza 77.

If you’re going into paganism or witchcraft or both that are related to your ancestry. Your ancestors are the best teachers and mentors especially if they also have been in these specific practices and traditions. If you want to learn Seidr for instance a magical practice rooted within Scandinavian traditions and you have said Scandinavian roots you can contact a ancestor that practiced it in life and willing to help and teach you. What’s unfortunate about ancestral veneration looking down upon for many centuries making people turn away and against the practice is that it’s said that spirits can become lost if they aren’t being honored or remembered that makes them fade and lost.

Five Myths about Ancestral Veneration and what to expect. This is not going to be sugarcoated, I’m being honest and this what I’ve experienced in my own practice and how many others have experienced as well. I would add on if I forgot anything but these are most common misconceptions I have heard. The red are the myths if you are wondering.

Myth #1: All ancestors on the other side have my best interest and support all what I’m doing This is a common misbelief, now there is ancestors that will support you no matter what and your actions. But if you’re a pagan and a witch there is going to be Christian ancestors who won’t support you at all. Their human spirits with still human functions and beliefs. Not to say you can’t communicate but set your intentions and boundaries before meeting them, some will tolerate and some will make their opinions and beliefs known possibly even try to convince you. I know it sounds like fear mongering but it’s to what you would expect. This doesn’t mean you cannot make contact or venerate them because of it. It’s a choice that is a two way street, even spirits in the other side have freewill just like we do.

Myth #2: All Ancestors are well in spirit No, not exactly, when humans on earth do horrible things or experience horrible things it will take affect in the spirit world no matter what. Keep in mind time works very differently in the other world that it will take centuries for those who are healing to fully recover and those to actually realize their problems, messed up life on earth if they choose to recognize it. Again as I said just humans in the physical world human spirits also have free will and choices.

Myth #3: Only Human spirits are ancestors Nope commonly yes when we think of Ancestors we think of human beings that lived either with us or before us. But this isn’t the case, pets for instance that became our beloved family members and part of our inner circle are our ancestors. My cat that recently passed I had him since I was nine years old, I always thought and treated him like family because of that he merged into my family circle. Also animals can symbols of family, like a bear, an owl, an elephant, etc. that they can be represented as your ancestors as a whole.

Myth #4 : Ancestors are limited to just blood family Also a misconception, close friends and even adopted family members are considered to be close family. Some people won’t have blood relatives in life and find their found family which is just as valid and meaningful like a blood family is. This also goes to if you’re a person that likes to write you might venerate your favorite author, if you like to draw or paint you can venerate an artist that you admired a lot. Your family might have patron saints, deities, or local heroes and spirits that have been part of your family for generations. That’s why it’s nice to know where your family originated from what country, village, city, etc.

Myth #5: No Ancestors of mine did anything wrong Everyone’s ancestors did something horribly wrong in their lifetime, some were messed up people. But there are good ones that aren’t like that anymore, if you want to venerate them that’s up to you and your practice. I personally don’t do it because especially if they did something wrong and have no remorse for it I ain’t venerating none of them.

There is no reason to be afraid.

I know I seemed to be fear mongering in the previous part that’s because I don’t want to sugarcoated of which is most likely to be expected.

The Bottom line when contacting (if you want to have contact with them) and venerating your ancestors is that their no different from a human person in this physical realm. They will have personalities, likes, dislikes, opinions, beliefs like any other human being BUT from my experience a lot of my ancestors are very wise, humorous, kind, and non-judgmental. My advice if you really want to contact someone who is going to be supportive and helpful in your paganism and witchcraft, ask specifically for that person I usually ask for ancient ancestors pre Christian wise but there many folk witches and pagan ancestors that are more modern and recent that can most definitely help you! Speak to them like any other human interaction would be as if you’re talking to a living friend, family member or complete stranger you’re meeting for the first time.

How to Communicate with your ancestors

I have mention “contacting” your ancestors you can speak with them it’s not impossible.

1. Meditation and dream work: Most common and effective way to really get them to communicate you and send signs is through dreams. Meditation for a clear and close connection with them.

2. Tarot: Very common and just as effective, my most recommended first step when communicating with your ancestors. Using a tarot deck can help with putting your foot through the door. There is a great book which will recommend at the of the blog that does ancestral and tarot together.

3. Pendulum and a spirit board: This is more in depth but it has been very effective for me and many others to really connect and communicate with my ancestors. It’s good to state your intentions and boundaries before doing any of said above, but this is where you really need to set it. Before starting grab the pendulum over the board don’t let it swing and say, “I ask of the good and supporting ancestors that have me in good intent and support of my path and practice, I would like to meet you”. Of course you get specific like “I would like to meet an ancient Roman ancestor” that’s just an example of how it would go safely and respectfully.

4. Just talking to them. Yep sounds easy enough, you would just get something that represents ancestors or even a specific ancestor. For instance your grandmother’s rosary and just talk to them or pray to them. It’s a very simple and comforting way to bond with your family.

Offerings

This is going to be a “it depends on the ancestors” but there has been a universal notion of what ancestors do really like. From items, food, drink, etc.

Rosaries for catholic ancestors or the cross for Christian ancestors generally speaking

Pagan symbols for your pagan ancestors

Statues of ancestral gods or saints or other important entities

Sweets: Cookies and cakes are very popular

Alcohol: my Germanic ancestors love it when I offer beer, mead, ale. But also wine and other alcoholic beverages for others.

Regular libations like water, coffee, tea. juice, etc. good substitute if you cannot use alcohol.

Their meals from their home country, my Italian ancestors, recent and ancient love it when I make them pasta.

Incense some cultures call it the food for spirits

Heirlooms

Family photographs

Candles

Coins

Book of the dead, if you meet an ancestor you can record them down into a book that is solely for your family and to be passed down on and on. It’s a memorial service to them that someone knows their name and who they were.

Specific traditions that your ancestors came from for instance libations of wine for your Greek ancestors.

Good ancestral veneration books that personally helped me a lot and I know a lot of others to get started.

Ancestral Tarot by Nancy Hendrickson she helps how to contact and connect with your ancestors and ancestry using tarot

Ancestral Grimoire by Nancy Hendrickson like Ancestral Tarot she goes how to connect with your ancestors but this time how to really work with them. One of the exercises is to work with an ancestor for a month and a different for the next one.

Honoring your Ancestors by Mallorie Vaudoise she gives good information on different ways to connect with your ancestors, the different types of ancestors, she does have a Southern European and Catholic folk magic take to it which is fine but it’s not the sole focus of it but she does put good information in the book to help someone get started. 

Badass Ancestors by Patti Wigington also good beginners guide to ancestral veneration and how to connect through meditations and develop relationships with them even how to deal with problematic ancestors. She goes into how to research your genealogy and useful tips!

[clangenrising]

Month 20 - Leaffall

Despite the heavy, nearly unbearable grief over Sagetooth’s passing, Ospreymask was doing very well these days. Her wounds had all healed nicely. Things were starting to feel less dire. After the battle, SkyClan had started sending warriors to help patrol the southern border, just in case, and the Clans had reinstated the twenty-four hour patrol schedule that had been abandoned after Razor’s death. As much as the work was tiring, there were always new cats in the camp and the novelty of it was enough to brighten her spirits considerably.

It was especially nice when Pebblefall came to visit. Ospreymask had begged Russetfrond to let her patrol with them whenever they came by and he had eventually relented, seeing as offering to work wasn’t something she usually did. She couldn’t help but feel smug about it. If only he knew what she and Pebblefall got up to when they had the time to themselves, maybe then he would have second guessed that decision. 

On a breezy leaffall day, she took a good long moment to appreciate just how lucky she was as she lay sprawled against their belly in the grass, watching it wave gently over their silvery speckled fur. It wasn’t every day you found a friend like Pebblefall -- or for that matter, a friend like Branchbark, who had agreed to cover for them on patrol again. Sighing, she reasoned that they ought to get back before he got ambushed by rogues or coyotes or something, even if she’d rather keep dozing peacefully to the gentle rhythm of Pebblefall’s slumbering breaths. 

“Alright,” she said, batting lightly at their face, “time to get up, lazy bones.” Pebblefall groaned and rolled onto their back to stretch their paws as far as they could go in either direction. Ospreymask had to resist the temptation to lavish the gorgeous arc of their body with playful licks like she so often did these days. That would lead to Branchbark being on his own for another good while and she was already starting to feel guilty about how long they had been gone. 

“Do I have to get up?” Pebblefall asked sleepily, peeking at her with one eye. 

“Yeah…” she sighed again. “I think Branchbark is probably getting tired of covering for us by now.” 

“Oof,” they frowned and sat up. “You’re probably right. I wish I could thank him for everything.” 

Ospreymask laughed and said, “You could always try. Stars know he could do with a bit of stress relief.” 

“Not like that, dummy,” Pebblefall swiped at her and she bounced backwards out of their reach. 

“Why not?” she kept laughing. “You seem happy to thank me that way.” 

Pebblefall stood and stretched, glaring playfully at her as they bowed. “Thank you? What have you done worth thanking for?” 

“Um, I am generous enough to allow you to enjoy the pleasures of my body,” she huffed performatively and stood up straight as if offended. “Is that not worthy of thanks?” 

“Sounds to me like we’re gonna get stuck in a loop pretty quickly if that’s how I thank you for letting me thank you,” they snorted. Carefully fixing the nettle flowers they wore back into place behind their ear, they padded over to join her. 

“Is that a bad thing?” she purred teasingly, winding her tail around theirs.

“I guess not,” they chuckled and nipped playfully at her ear. She shook her head and they set off towards the border where Branchbark was waiting for them. 

Ospreymask hummed thoughtfully to herself as they walked, eventually saying, “You’re good with me keeping the kittens if there are any, right?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Pebblefall nodded. “I’m not in any rush to be a parent.” 

“Good, cause you would have had to pry them from my cold dead paws,” Ospreymask declared. “I’m so kitten crazy it’s not even funny.” 

“I do not understand that at all,” they shook their head. “Kits are so tiring and annoying. I can’t imagine having to carry them either, it sounds like a nightmare.” 

“No way!” she said. “They’re so much fun! Just cute little bundles of joy that love you with all their heart. It's so easy to impress a kitten, it’s the best.” She smiled, imagining little Pebblefall copies following her around and asking her questions about the world. “I’m actually really looking forward to being pregnant. I want to feel their little heartbeats and kicks and everything. It sounds absolutely magical.”

“If you say so,” they shrugged and she let that be the end of it. She was too busy thinking about the kittens she might soon have. 

Eventually, they made it to the border and found Branchbark waiting where they had left him. He looked up as they approached and let out a sigh of relief. Standing, he padded over to them looking miffed but mostly glad to see them. 

“There you are,” he said. “The next patrol is supposed to relieve us soon. I was getting worried about how I would explain where you’d gone.” 

“You can always come get us,” Ospreymask offered but Branchbark blushed and shook his head. 

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” he fumbled out the words and Ospreymask laughed. 

“Okay, I get it. We’ll take a smaller nap next time, promise.” 

“Can’t you just, you know, not nap?” he asked, quirking a brow at her. 

“It’s tiring,” Pebblefall said. “It’d be more suspicious if we didn’t nap and the two of us came back exhausted.”

“It can’t be that tiring,” Branchbark scowled. 

“You’d know if you’d tried it,” Ospreymask gave him a playful shove and he pushed her back without any humor. She was pushing her luck and she could tell.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he rolled his eyes tiredly. “Let’s just make another sweep before we have to go back, alright?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Pebblefall said with a guilty grimace. “We’ll be more considerate in the future, man. I’m sorry.” 

Branchbark sighed. “It’s alright. Don’t mention it.” He started walking, leaving Pebblefall and Ospreymask to exchange rueful glances. 

As they finished out the patrol, Ospreymask’s guilt grew in her stomach and started to writhe. Branchbark had taken Sagetooth’s death a lot harder than she had -- probably harder than anybody -- which had totally caught her off guard. She’d tried to go back to acting like nothing had happened, to replace the sadness with new joys, but it seemed like Branchbark wasn’t having as easy of a time at it as she was. And on top of it all, she had been asking him to be all alone for not inconsiderable stretches of time so she could fool around without doing anything for him in return. 

If he had asked her for a favor, she would gladly have given it to him, but he never asked for anything. She chewed her lip for the entire walk back to camp, trying to think of a way to repay him for his kindness. She was so deep in thought, she barely noticed when Pebblefall said goodbye and headed back to their own territory. 

“Hey,” Branchbark asked, a little while after they had left, “are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, smiling immediately. “I’m fine, I’m just worried about you man. I feel like I’ve been a bad friend.” 

Branchbark pursed his lips and looked down. “No, you’re fine, I’m just… stuck in my head right now.” 

“I know!” Ospreymask cried, butting her head against his shoulder. “You’ve been so good to me lately, I wanna return the favor.”

“It’s okay,” he said, nuzzling back into her. “I don’t know what I would ask for anyway.” 

“Well, if you can think of something, just let me know, yeah?” she asked. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded. 

Ospreymask sighed in defeat. He wasn’t going to ask.

[callsign-venus]

I'll Be Home for Christmas | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Description: With Bradley on deployment, you don't find the Christmas season as cheery as usual. The Daggers make it their mission to help you get into the holiday spirit. Cue intensely competitive gingerbread house decorating competition.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Fluff with a teeny dash of angst. Drinking. That’s pretty much it. Really just self-indulgent, friendship-heavy fluff with lots of pining. Enjoy x

Nat King Cole’s voice dances out of your record player has you put the finishing touches on your cranberry Aperol spritzes. Their cherry warm color makes you smile despite yourself. 

You have always loved Christmas, but this year it hits you like a truck – and not even one with a tree strapped on top. All the little traditions that usually warm your heart with holiday cheer feel just plain sad to do alone. You had a tremendous battle with your artificial tree, which fell on you twice. You were proud of yourself for not crying, and in the end you were able to admire all of its eight feet of glory. Then you remembered you had to light the whole thing. Two hours later, you had undone no less than three tangles of light strands, found out two of them were dead (and all your untangling had been for nothing), and had one big cry fest for yourself. Not even a steaming cup of cocoa made you feel better after that disaster.

Wrapping presents for your friends and family, rewatching all your favorite Christmas movies, and driving around rich people neighborhoods to admire their lights hadn’t gone as poorly, but they all made his absence grow harder to ignore.

When Bradley told you his deployment would last through the holidays, you struggled to keep your disappointment to yourself, though you’re sure he could see it shining in your eyes. As much as you would miss him during the holidays, you knew it was worse for him, with only emails and skype calls for comfort – no silly little Christmas rituals to occupy his mind.

“You need help in here?” Natasha’s voice jolts you out of your pity-party spiral.

“No, I just got distracted,” you say, scooping up two of the spritzes and offering her one. “Let’s get this party started.”

Phoenix smiles and accepts your cocktail. She herself had just gotten back from her own deployment, and pretty immediately sensed your holiday ennui. She was the one who suggested this festive evening, and you’ve never been more grateful for her friendship.

While you were listless in the kitchen, she had assembled the most perfect gingerbread house making station you’d ever seen: frosting packed into several near-bursting bags, candy canes arranged in perfect rows, gumdrops with a shimmering dusting of sugar, and a scattering of gingerbread roofs and walls waiting patiently to be dressed.

“Wow, Nat, this looks great.”

“Thank you. I’m sure the boys will mess it up in three seconds flat, but at least you appreciate it.”

As if on cue, your front door bursts open, and a clot of merrily dressed sailors spills into your home, arms stacked with presents for Secret Santa. You point to the open space under the Christmas tree, and quickly your and Natasha’s presents are joined by all the others.

After the presents are unloaded, you and Phoenix are engulfed in hugs. Fanboy is wearing a Santa hat, and he has two in hand that he passes to you and Phoenix, insisting that you put them on right now. You happily oblige, as you’re inching closer to how you usually feel during the holidays now that you’re surrounded by friends. Even Jake is cheery, having rocked up in an ugly Christmas sweater covered with bows and tinsel, which is bizarre yet comforting. You do your best not to think about the person you wish was here most, as the Daggers seem dead set to help you have a great Christmas despite his absence.

“This is for you, our gracious host.” Bob hands you a potted poinsettia. “Thanks for putting up with us.”

“It’s really no problem,” you insist as you place the flowers on the side table by your couch. “I love you all.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Still, we’re a lot, I know.”

He’s not wrong – Coyote and Payback have already found the spritzes and Fanboy’s popped three gumdrops into his mouth – but you don’t mind. Even when the gingerbread house decorating competition starts. Calling it a competition might be an understatement. The Daggers are more than competitive, especially about inconsequential things. Nobody speaks as they draft their houses in bright white icing and stud them with decorative candies. The only way to get them to quiet is through arts and crafts, you muse as you decorate your house with swirls of icing like snow drifts and tiny snowflakes dotting the roof and walls. 

The sabotage begins early, when Hangman reaches for a bowl of peppermints and not-so-subtly brushes his hand over Phoenix's roof, smearing the frosting.

“Hey asshole,” Natasha says. “That’s my house.”

“Oh really? Looks like you got a little smear there.” Jake slides a finger across Phoenix’s carefully piped shingles, messing up her roof even more.

“You’re a dead man, Seresin.” Nat narrows her eyes. She won’t go for Jake’s gingerbread house, she’ll bide her time. You’re glad you’re not Hangman right now.

“Got anymore spritzes?” Coyote asks you.

You nod your head. “In the kitchen, help yourself.”

When Coyote gets up to refill his glass, Fanboy snatches his piping bag and swaps it for his almost empty one. While Fanboy’s distracted, Payback helps himself to the pile of Twizzlers Fanboy’s been hoarding since the beginning of the competition.

“Who is even going to judge these?” You ask almost absentmindedly as you stand a gingerbread couple together at the door of their house with copious amounts of frosting. “We all know whose house is whose.”

There’s a smattering of laughter.

“We’ll figure it out after Secret Santa,” Nat assures you as she completes the retiling of her roof, the eaves perfectly punctuated with peppermints.

Before you can question the logic of that solution, Bob asks for your opinion on colored versus strictly green and red gum drops.

“Hey, no helping the competition,” Fanboy complains.

“What?” You level a heavy gaze on him. “Scared you won’t win if Bob and I combine forces? I would be.”

“I’m just saying, this should be a fair contest,” he says.

You shrug him off and answer Bob, but in the spirit of sabotage, you neglect to tell him about the frosting dried on his cheek.

Even though you’re risking your gingerbread house’s safety, once you’ve finished, you slip into the hall. You refresh your inbox on your phone, and you smile as you see an email from Bradley.

Subject: Miss you

Hey pretty girl. Been missing you all day today. Wish I was there to hang stockings and give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen. Don’t forget to hang it – you can leave it up until I get back. Don’t have a lot of time, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you and I can’t wait to come home to you.

Your heart flutters, as it always does when you get an email from him. You quickly type out a response.

Subject: Miss you more

Hey hot stuff. I’ve already hung the mistletoe and have no plans to take it down until you make me see stars under it. I miss doing holiday things with you (you really know how to wrangle the tree), but Nat especially has been helping me through it. Still, I really miss you. All I need is your arms around me and everything will feel right again. Can’t wait to see you again.

You press send and sigh. You never want to complain – it’s Bradley who had to live on an aircraft carrier for months at a time – but sometimes it feels so unfair for two people to be so in love and yet spend the holidays all alone.

You give yourself a moment to collect yourself before you go back to the increasingly hostile competition. Jake has icing in his hair – you know Phoenix is responsible, but her wrath won’t end there – and Payback’s house had a giant fist-sized crater in the roof. Surely unrelated, Coyote’s knuckles are dusted with gingerbread crumbs. You couldn’t help the smile the chaotic scene pulled from you. Especially since your gingerbread house remains in pristine condition.

You thank Nat for watching over it, and she responds with a bright smile. “No problem, I can’t have the boys messing up your Christmas celebration.”

“Hey!” All the boys except Bob protest in unison. Phoenix raises her brows, point proven.

Once all of the gingerbread houses are complete and aligned in a row like a candied neighborhood block, the party shifts toward the Christmas tree. Bob distributes presents to each of you. Yours is an envelope, and you know it is from Nat. Your name is written on the thick, cream paper in Nat’s graceful script, which you know like your own after years of friendship.

“No one can beat my present,” Nat boasts as she catches you studying the envelope.

“Oh we’ll see,” Coyote says.

You swallow down a little lump, seeing everyone around the tree without Rooster. Though you love and appreciate your friends, the emptiness of his presence is almost smothering.

Your mood warms when Jake volunteers to go first. You’re his Secret Santa, and just as you predicted, he loves the smartphone-controlled paper airplane you got for him. He opens it and has it folded  in a matter of seconds. He syncs it to his phone, and his first flight ends with the plane crashing into Coyote’s head.

“Durable.” Hangman remarks as he picks up the paper airplane, which holds its shape just fine.

“Asshole.” Coyote replies.

Payback is next, and he gets a bottle of scotch from Jake. You don’t know much about scotch, but from Payback’s reaction, you can tell it’s a really nice bottle.

Coyote gets Bob a navy Aran sweater, which Bob wastes no time throwing on.

“Feel how soft!” Bob says as he smothers Coyote in a hug. Cue three minutes of Bob inviting everyone to touch his sweater – you can’t blame him, though, it is really soft.

Bob’s gift to Coyote makes you wonder how Nat is going to top it. Bob made a crochet version of Taffy, Coyote’s miniature pinscher. 

“Thank you, I love it.” Coyote cradles the crocheted dog tight, and you wonder if you’re just imagining the tremble in his voice or if he’s actually about to cry.

“Come on Javy,” Jake says, “don’t go all soft now.”

Fanboy gets a countertop pizza oven from Payback, which instantly becomes one of his most prized possessions based on the sheer amount of pizza he consumes.

“Thanks, man.” He gives Payback a friendly punch on the arm. “You all have to come over for pizza night.”

You all hum in agreement. Fanboy’s pizzas are amazing, and you wouldn’t mind spending another night with everyone together. Well, almost everyone. You swallow down the lump in your throat.

Phoenix opens her gift from Fanboy slowly, as if she’s afraid of its contents. She peels back the shiny green paper to reveal a charcuterie board and a set of cheese knives with wooden handles that match the board. She hugs it close to her chest and mouths thank you across the room to Fanboy, who doesn’t notice because he’s reading the pizza recipe included with his oven.

Finally it is your turn. All eyes in the room land on you, strangely sober despite the freely flowing spritzes. You give Phoenix a quick glance as you slide a finger under the flap of the envelope, but her expression is unreadable.

“It's a…” you say as your fingers graze a satiny band of fabric. “Blindfold?”

You hold it up for everyone to see. Everyone’s expressions are carefully arranged to not convey anything. Not quite the laughter you were expecting. A sense of uneasiness blooms in your stomach.

Nat stands up and takes the blindfold out of your hands. Quicker than you can think, she’s tying it around your head.

“What is going on?” You ask.

She finishes the bow and pats your shoulder. “Just you wait.”

A few suppressed snickers fill the room and make your uneasiness melt into dread. The gentle shush of a door opening and closing makes it worse.

“I swear, if you guys are ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas-ing’ me right now I will be so angry.”

The silence that falls after you speak is so, so loud. No one turned the record, so even Nat King Cole is quiet. But then you hear it. It’s hard to explain, but you’d know that breathing anywhere. You’d spent many nights falling asleep to that gentle lullaby or hearing it as he held you close in the kitchen, neither of you caring that dinner was burning on the stove.

You rip off the blindfold, and there he is. Bradley. Bradley. Standing next to your Christmas tree, a bow tied around his chest. The Daggers surround him like magician’s assistants, all their hands raised in a sort of ta-da manner.

You leap off the couch and into his waiting arms. He smells like an aircraft carrier and shitty coffee, his clothes rough and government-issued, and his hair cropped a little too close to his head than you know he likes – but he’s yours. He’s yours in the way his embrace consumes you, blurring the line between you and him, erasing the months and miles of distance between the two of you. He’s yours in the way the beat of his heart drums in rhythm with your own. Yours in the way that you are his as well. He lifts you up so your feet dance in the air, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

He sets you down and crashes his lips into yours. He slips his tongue into your mouth unabashedly, and despite your audience, you let him. The kiss is long enough that you start to feel bad for everyone else, so you sheepishly pull away.

“Goddamn, Rooster,” Hangman says, “let the girl breathe.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves the comment away.

But you don’t want to breathe. Not if your other option is to kiss Bradley until you’re both oxygen starved. Because you’re starved for him, need to feed on his presence. 

Then the realization sets in. Rooster is supposed to be deployed for another month. You wheel around to face Nat. “How the hell did you do this?”

She shrugs. “Loverboy emailed me last week, just after I got home from my deployment. Said he was coming home earlier than expected, and he wanted to surprise you.”

“Wait, so all of you knew?” You pointedly look at everyone, but nobody can quite keep eye contact with you.

Bradley wraps an arm around your waist. “They all did pretty good keeping it under wraps, huh?”

“I would hope so, given our clearance levels,” Jake says.

Everyone laughs, but you’re still reeling. You can’t believe Bradley is here. His calloused fingers rubbing the skin of your back, just under the hem of your shirt. His gentle laugh reverberating against your body, reminding you what wholeness feels like. His lips, slightly chapped (with none of your chapstick to steal on the carrier), murmuring into your hair. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know what he means nonetheless.

You’d imagined Bradley’s homecoming as a flurry of ripped clothes, bruising kisses, and mutual insatiable hunger, but this is better. All of your friends in the same room, sharing in this festive homecoming, looking like absolute dorks. Fanboy’s Santa hat sits askew on his head. Payback and Coyote are obviously drunk off their asses (they definitely pregamed the festivities, as Payback has been reduced to giggles and Coyote has actual tears streaming down his face). Jake has yet to realize the frosting in his hair, Bob the frosting on his face. And Natasha is a dork by association. You and Bradley too. But the overwhelming love in the room makes you want to sob happy tears.

Bradley happily indulges you all in judging the gingerbread houses. He gets down to eye level with each entry, runs his fingers along the roofs, occasionally snaps off a piece of candy and pops it in his mouth.

“Very good job, everyone.” He speaks to the group as if you’re all kindergartners, reveling in the building anticipation. There’s never a prize for Dagger competitions, but there doesn’t need to be. Bragging rights is all they need, no matter how menial the situation.

Bradley carefully reshuffles the houses in order from last to first place. Fanbody. Jake. Payback. Coyote. Nat. He purposefully shields first and second place. Only you and Bob are left – maybe the least competitive people in the room – and still, tension is thick in the air.

“And the winner…” Bradley’s voice booms like an old-fashioned gameshow host, “...is…”

He finally slides to the side to reveal your house sitting in first place.

Bob sticks his hand up for a high five. Your hands collide with a solid thunk.

 “Not fair,” Fanboy protests. “Rooster’s obviously biased.”

“Come on, he didn’t know whose house was whose,” Phoenix says. “Besides, you weren’t even in the top five, and Payback had a hole in his roof.”

“It’s ok, Nat,” you voice oozes with fake sympathy. “I’d be upset too if I spent so much time on a shit gingerbread house.”

Fanboy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh you want to play that game?”

He lunges around the table, and you immediately grab Bradley to use as a human shield. 

“Lots of talk from someone who’s gonna hide behind her boyfriend,” he says teasingly.

“I’m not hiding.” You tighten your grip on Bradley’s waist, his hands covering yours. “You can get to me, you’re just gonna have to get through him first.”

Bradley puffs out his chest. “Nobody disparages the gingerbread contest queen. She earned her title by being the best.”

Later, because he can’t keep a secret from you (the only thing that saved the Secret Santa surprise was only being able to communicate through email), Bradley confesses that he knew which house was yours the moment he saw it. But still, that one little detail doesn’t negate the fact that you are the gingerbread contest queen.

And Bradley defends your honor well as you maneuver him from behind to keep a distance between yourself and Fanboy. Eventually, Bob steps in to broker a peace deal to end the conflict. Somehow, you are roped in for bringing more spritzes to Fanboy’s pizza night, but he can no longer dispute the fact that you have the best gingerbread house. A win is a win, and your gloating privileges remain.

Later, when everyone is winding down and glancing at their coats hanging by the door, Bradley pulls you into the kitchen.

“Honey, I think our guests are about to leave.” You try to move back toward the living room, but Bradley keeps hold of your hand. “Please, let’s not be rude.”

He shakes his head. “They’ll understand. They know. They know exactly what it's like.”

You relent because he’s right. Even you don’t know what it’s like. Loneliness has been a long lingering companion of yours, but you suffer her presence at home surrounded by close comforts and your parents a short drive away. For Bradley, for Nat, for Jake, for Bob and all the rest, it’s different. It’s their job. They suffer loneliness with mostly long shifts and shitty food for company. 

So you let Bradley chase out his – and your – loneliness in the kitchen. As he pulls you ever closer, his palms flattening you against him, you wonder how you ever survived apart when it was so clear that your souls were really just one.

You break away panting. God knows how long you were indulging, but you just about jump out of your skin when you realize Phoenix is in the kitchen right behind you, pouring herself a glass of champagne.

Your cheeks warm. “Nat!”

“Sorry, didn’t bother me, so I didn’t want to bother you.” She shrugs. “Want a glass?”

You decline, and you and Bradley shuffle out of the kitchen like teenagers caught in the act. Nearly everyone is shrugging their coats on, chatting about the night, when they catch sight of the two of you.

“Now, just where in the hell did y’all run off to?” Jake prods.

You can’t even look at them.

“Just the kitchen,” Rooster says, locking his hand in yours. “Needed to make sure the champagne was still flowing.”

Everyone shares the same knowing look that makes you want to shove them all out the door. Instead, you and Bradley post up at the door like perfect hosts and thank everyone for coming as they slip into the surprisingly chilly night. Then, only you, Bradley, and Phoenix are left.

While everyone was saying their goodbyes, she was sipping her champagne and quietly wiping sugar, gingerbread crumbs, and crusted frosting off the dining table.

“You bitch,” you say as you swoop in to help her clean up. “How come you didn’t tell me as soon as you found out?”

She laughs and takes another sip of wine. “Why don’t you ask Rooster?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He sheepishly grins.

“In my defense,” he says, “it was a really good surprise.”

“I can’t believe you two.” You laugh. “But thank you for the surprise. It was wonderful.”

You try to direct your gratitude to them both, but something in Rooster’s expression snags your gaze and won’t let go. There’s still an unsatiated hunger heavy in his eyes.

Nat sets down her now empty glass. “Alright, lovebirds, I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”

She gathers her things, and you walk her to the door.

“Thank you.” You give her a hug. Neither of you are super touchy, but your gratitude for her tonight is almost endless. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” She squeezes you tight before letting go. “Goodnight, Rooster!”

“Goodnight!” He calls from somewhere deep in the house.

“Sounds like he’s waiting for you,” she winks. “See you soon.”

“Get home safe!”

And with that, it’s just the two of you. You expect Bradley to pounce the second the door closes, but he doesn’t appear as you linger by the doorway. Odd. You check the kitchen, living room, and dining room. All empty.

“Bradley?” You call.

“Right here.”

His response floats from down the hallway, from your bedroom.

And sure enough, there he stands in the doorway. Right under the mistletoe you hung up earlier in the week, the biggest grin on your face when you pictured his homecoming some time after New Years, all the Christmas decorations gone except the lonely mistletoe, waiting patiently for his arrival. But now, you can put the mistletoe to good use while Christmas is still bright on the horizon. The warmth of the season bleeds into the warmth of your kiss. Christmas will come as surely as it would have if Bradley was on deployment, but now you welcome it. You want lazy days sipping eggnog and baking cookies. You want late, festive nights at the Hard Deck with the Daggers, getting into pool competitions with Bradley as your loyal teammate despite how disastrous you are at pool, assured in his easy we-lose-together attitude. You want a Christmas morning with presents that don’t matter because the best gift you could ask for has already appeared right by your tree tonight, wrapped in a bow.

“Don’t leave me ever again,” you whisper against his chest.

“I won’t,” he says, “I won’t.”

You both know it’s not something you can ask of him, not a promise he can keep. It’s not fair to either of you to pretend like this will be his last homecoming, the last time you both are starved of each other for months. But right now, it feels good to pretend.

You can’t think long about his future deployments, however. Your worries melt away as Bradley makes good on his promise to give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen.

[crystaljellie]

I’m doing it I’m yapping.

Okay so my life series fantasy AU

Basically Joel and Jimmy were isekai’d into this fantasy world. Everyone else is already part of the world. Jimmy basically wake up with Grian standing over him (Grian is a parrot Avian in this as per usual) and Jimmy totally freaks out.

And all I know from there is that Jimmy and Grian overthrow Ren and Joel heads to the feywilds and meets Lizzie. Oh and flower husbands meet and kiss by a lake, I’m sure there will be angst I’m getting there

So now actually about the guys

Bdubs

Moss spirit

He lives in the forest and loves to cause chaos

But also he helps people get in an out of his forest because it’s dangerous at night

Being a moss spirit Bdubs body is basically just made up of moss

Bdubs and Grian have issues, and when I say issues Grian causes problems and Bdubs has to deal with the aftermath

BigB

BigB is a fae who lives outside of the fae wilds

He has a bakery in the main city of the kingdom Ren and Martyn rule

He frequently speaks to the royal order something something maybe suspicious things

He’s best friends with Tango who he met through Skizz

Etho

He’s an Arctic fox

He lives in the ice realms which are relatively near the southern realms which is where the kingdom is

Jimmy breaks into his house by accident at some point and Etho just is like

‘This guy is my kid now’

Jimmy has no idea how to escape forcibly assigned son

Scar

A desert elf (desert duo ref)

Scar used to live in the kingdom before moving to the desert realms with Grian (they’re boyfriends)

Scar is a falcon tamer, usually he just tames regular falcons but was called into the city square to deal with a particularly pesky boy which is how he meet Grian

He also still has a wheelchair but it has like magic powers, Scar used his desert elf powers to make it so his wheelchair can drive across sand.

Grian

A Parrot Avian

HE CAUSES PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

He has little bird legs and he likes to fly onto Scars falcon brace

And he takes shiny things from shops in the kingdom

He’s the one who recommended Scar go back to the desert

Impulse

A Sun Imp

There are lots of different types of Imp’s

Depends which realm they were born it

Impulse was born in the sun realm

Martyn

He’s a wood elf

And he and Ren have issues

Ren and Martyn learn to stop tyrannic ruling

I’m gonna get the watchers involved somehow

He’s being given instructions and visions

He tries to follow them but it only leads to dead ends

Or death

Lizzie

She’s a Fae

And the High Queen of the fae

So she lives in the feywilds

Do her people lowkey kidnap Joel?

Yes but that’s a separate issue

Mumbo

He’s a vampire :3

But instead of drinking your blood he’s more like

Sunburns…

And can’t enter a building without permission

Sometimes you’ll just see Mumbo walking around with an umbrella

Everyone knows he’s a vampire

Sometimes they offer him blood he always says no though he thinks it’s rude of him

Skizz

Skizz is an angel

But he’s also the most unlucky person in the world

He was the first person to buy from Tangos shop and they became good friends because of that

Skizz is aware of the watchers due to his angel origins

Scott

Scott is actually a star born

But he disguises himself as a Sea elf

He lives in solitude behind a waterfall in a flower meadow

He has long elf ears and coral in his hair that looks like it’s arranged slightly like a flower crown

Starborns have the ability to take the magical abilities of their surroundings or their friends, so Scott has magical powers relating to water and flowers, but this can change based on his surroundings in which he can gain additional powers (Water and Flower related powers will not change because he’s lived in the meadow for so long)

Something with him and Acho (his brother) having an argument, causing them to split from each other and adorn disguises heading down to the over realm

Scott has spoken to the royal counsel before but they do not like each other which is why he did not choose to live in the city, He is courteous with them but only really visits the city to speak with Impulse who he made friends with while living in the city.

Starborns being a rarer and more hunted but also very powerful species and kept track of by the royal order so he was mainly there to fill out paperwork

Tango

Tango is a fireborn

Fireborn do not have parents they spawn from fire and are only found in the Nether realms (Not to be confused for the Nether World) At the age of 16 Fireborn creatures will leave the Nether realms to find a home for themselves. The only fireborn who reside pass the age of sixteen are those who are unable to leave or caretakers of fireborn young.

So when Tango was 16 he left to the southern arms to set up a mechanics shop

When Tango gets angry his fire hair goes blue

Tango also had a mechanical arm :3

Pearl

Pearl is a lunar moth

She and Grian are siblings

They cause problems together I love them

I sadly don’t have much for anyone else right now :(

I’m working on it, but they’re my sillies and I can’t wait to make this a fic it’ll be so fun

[solartranslations]

AF2 Donna Epilogue 2: Arcana Famiglia Transformed

On an island, there lives a witch. And everything around her is overflowing with happiness…

~*Scene: VF Deck*~

Vir: I can’t believe that girl accomplished the same thing as Agata

Teo: You mean mom?

Vir: No. Your ancestor, Agata

Vir: I was the one two drew the images on that Tarocco. I’m alive now because she discovered me

Vir: And now, my goal in working so hard for her has been fulfilled

Vir: “She hosts all the Tarocco”…that’s how it should be

Vir: After losing her, I didn’t allow it to be used for anything other than to protect what she did

Teo: Is that why mom…and all the Nordia governors are named “Agata”?

Vir: It’s my mark. But it’s a good name, isn’t it? The one that belonged to my master, and the woman I love

Teo: Wha…love? Neve better not have heard that!

Vir: Agata is gone. What does it matter?

Teo: Uhh…?

Vir: Ah, perhaps that Regalo girl was Agata’s reincarnation

Vir: Since she can host all the Tarocco, it would make sense

Vir: I thought it would have been Neve, since she captured my heart…

Teo: That’s terrible of you to say, Vir. You know that Neve gets jealous easily…

Yuki (Neve): Being jealous is important

Teo: Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Yuki (Neve): And there’s no point in being jealous of someone who’s dead…

Vir: Hehe. Is that a pout? You look adorable like that too

Yuki (Neve): ……

Vir: Reincarnation or not, it means nothing now. Now that it’s all dealt with, I’m sure of it

Vir: You’re the one I love, Yuki

Yuki (Neve): Vir-sama…!

Vir: You don’t need to be so formal with me

Yuki (Neve): …Okay, Vir…

Teo: I can’t deal with this…

Princess: Squeak!

Teo: Don’t comfort me!

~*Scene: Governer’s Mansion Meeting Room*~

Agata: Sera, you have a letter from Regalo

Sera: I know

Agata: Oh…so that girl sent you some personal letters as well?

Sera: No, they were from Nova, unfortunately

Sera: By that, do you mean that she sent something to you?

Agata: Of course

Sera: …Well, you are the governor

Agata: Oh, cheer up. Even if you became governor, you still aren’t a match for her yet

Agata: Regalo’s young Donna is still unwed, yet she is concentrating all her energy on supporting the lord and building her organization

Sera: Huh…?

Agata: She should know that flowers don’t bloom for long

Sera: Nova mentioned that she has countless courtship offers… I see, there’s a chance

Agata: Hm…not to worry. You got your dignified looks from me

Agata: There’s hope

Sera: !

Sera: Of course. I’ll work to become a governor worthy of her

Agata: That’s the spirit. Then as the future governor, then would you mind taking care of this for me?

Sera: Mother…

~*Scene: Mondo’s Office*~

Dante: That’s all for the Serie and Intelligence’s reports. Anything for us, Donna?

Felicita: Good work, all of you. And do stay vigilent while preparing for La Primavera

Felicita: We’ve invited the governor of Nordia this year. So we must prevent any trouble

Felicita: There has been no major incidents, and lord’s project to expand education is going smoothly

Felicita: Keep up the hard work. That will be—

Jolly: Hold on. Aren’t you forgetting something, Donna?

Felicita: Huh…?

Debito: We heard that Alberto proposed to you

Pace: Sure, he’s a great guy, but you just can’t! We won’t let him have you!

Luca: Excuse you. Ojou-sama doesn’t belong to anyone. I do belong to her, though

Liberta: That was not an invitation to be creepy, Luca!

Nova: Can you stay on topic

Felicita: Nova…!

Nova: But it’s true that the marriage propositions never end

Ash: Well, it is important. Nobody would ignore a woman with as much influence as her

Felicita: Is that all? I already said I wasn’t getting married or looking for a partner any time…

Jolly: But are you sure about that, Donna?

Debito: Yeah. Isn’t it just awful not having a partner, Bambina?

Felicita: Awful…?

Pace: It just means that we can’t give up on you, Ojou!

Felicita: Why are you all always teasing me…

Dante: She’s right. Stop nagging Ojou-san and get back to work

Liberta: I feel like Dante could have said that earlier

Jolly: Exactly. It’s just the nonsense of youngsters. Now Donna, it’s about time for our appointment

Felicita: Ah, you’re right

Nova: And I have mine in two hours. Don’t be late

Luca: Goodness, at this rate, Ojou-sama will have no time to relax

Luca: Felicita, I’ll prepare you a lavender bath for tonight…

Debito: Hey, you’re the one saying the weirdest things

Debito: You want Bambina to feel gooood and smell like lavender, huh?

Pace: Ah, what’re you thinking, Luca! Ojou, be careful!! He’s after you!

Felicita: Okay, let’s go

Ash: Okay

Liberta: Why are you going, Ash?

Ash: I’m the assistant advisor. Let’s finish this fast and get some dolce, Strawberry Head

Felicita: Sounds good

Luca: Ojou-samaaaa

Pace: Lasagnaaa!

Debito: Shut it!

Dante: All of you need to shape up!

Narrator: “Arcana Famiglia”

Liberta: They are the vigilante organization that protects the small trade island of Regalo

Nova: To protect the carefree and laidback people of the island from the dangers beyond the sea

Debito: They possess the power to divide the rights and lords

Pace: Only those who have contracted with the “Tarocco” and vow to comply with the law are allowed to enter the organization

Luca: They abandon their family name, and work to the best of their ability for the organization

Dante: Simply because this is their duty, they continue to have a strong will

Jolly: The power gained from contracting with the “Tarocco” — Arcana powers

Ash: This is the story of those with Arcana powers, and their curious fates…

~*End of Scene*~

(Nova ED1 also cleared: Continue to Sera ED)

(Ash ED1 also cleared: Continue to Teo ED)

(Back to Directory)

[libidomechanica]

Tell me not to be her transmitted

A sonnet sequence

               I

—He brethren gone, that to winne, and castle. Pen would be. Turn by the written upon a light, until she said! As now the crew as we see the voyce oft doth keeper that when all in Friendship, at length renew, clipt from the reign, she learn’d sufferer knee, that flowers, and tears as could kill’d the flore: her infant when alive. He turn’d to be helps to town, the dress’d sherbet, sublime wou’d sparingly,—some wealth.—The moonshine smile there beauty, birthplace is to Combate flies and and, the flower the promontory, the Labour of this. Thus far away that next she made the oar made false within these few stars.

               II

To thy Pow’r expired: for instant caught of my pity not, but Ostentates, now, while Anna begg’d he had not live a peach? Show me that trickling to a blue and maids on fire broke thee: no, no, my sight I waking looks cast, they won’t say him a wander’s graceful Ease, and shall be time the Host in that all the bard by the wardrobe which we cease you’re psychic no one else t was used. Who studies fervently gentle, stirless forget their secret teares not what seemed to must be better in the runaways watchet the wish in my mind; his tutors had drawn from the Fates his gore, he water.

               III

The lightening, about her vineyard—yes! But once theyr weede. What resource of rest. And bring here; we known to keep her reflection. This birth to sight nor dreams with thy tongues. Wounds bleeding the wren through the leaf or once more, by all the plasma, listen their Visits and trembled Beds, or dip their joys of a broad and aspect it appear; t were mischieuous with that best: thought, O name call’d his o’er; and should betimes to those. Shine smiled, he forrests greene Woods, and speak for you. Who could not, seemed. For that which by an hour by those to Venus, to hope. Sweet beauty draught for fifteen stone, silver Spirit’s seize my arms.

               IV

Ere yet unvisited by time came intent, had such a catch in to fly and go, and there was accursèd thing, I found, ne let hob Goblins, but not contemns poverty? For on a bank, and begin? And some fair are no outward path, as they chancery suit a window-pane. At some stitch’d it round they chance—and while it sayshould never speache, without the sonne of the other flower, or lips with tilt and adore: not annul, drinking words are meant to see if I can college and chestnut-flowing time and unmoved, his household, four. Of which snatch’d a sweet as a flint, cheat and go, mountains all.

               V

At fifty tons of this maine for her own. That often, often do; when Offers not under, of looking at the salt and full of fame, take me to parry roofs to the began to cease to sweet thy visitors, do you may ye flog them has sold, his poor dead. But Donna Inez led for still all retir’d of pale-mouth’d welcome shock the cold, and on the cowslips bind the thrust in Old Spain? To see what the Sphinx. I can’t seene. In them per hours away so loud, Oh hear your praise is it peace, and Pomatums shal answer: do what it much. Tho to Madrid one beginning Love! For Death’s dateless eye.

               VI

Petals, they beneath his slender Chains to Yoak a Flea; dry’d Butterflies, and robed the plans that not so that moment, on someone steps as the the squeezed and swear, made her uterus an eye in the hour hero in his grief-worn cave, and warm, and Derivéd Self make somewhat fall worth while yourself! Ugly race, and opened doorstep, the sonne and rind of love, he fire domed blackboard withdrew, which Promethean vulture and various eyes she unders! High, love whose lips lie wi’ tin; when he vsed to proportion mair to feede the Matin-bell, your curious Talk th’ instruments in like a most breast her old, which hides they bene half to simples to encumber: what is pity may light for thee lust wait too soon after shene, with Donna Julia said—and the assentions busy with Musico Cazzani since I’m as from these words made: and the Desperate Fathers not enuy my loue alone.

               VII

Knows so much more has been spinning, sir, find it on the mountain pine, the which the wind material Whispering perish’d, lest it too warn’d youth untimely fruit, coffee, open they stand like a wish to warm today when these tunefu’ power, bring hair, to th’ Angels thoughts in Flame mounting bright and borrell, yet once and his heaven’s employment. I loathes, and if Pedrillo’s parts in everywhere! Who told him; till the might the large and unexplored mead. He did not know how to thee, and Greek private affairs, a pail of a train drops fra my charm for honourable ray, left hys foe.

               VIII

No doubt upon a treasures prove to Friendships were but the promoted breaks your rayes! They are dull film half glazed, for our running Love! Days long ere Juan—I like strife, until the pipes of shriech Oule, nor borrowe. She sipp’d, and the ship still reigner grass. Take me three or for little can quell nor dolefull hear ye lightly bald brought to seek this many-colour into the bends his man and borrells Embleme. At successful search’d, and your corpse was the tryste, he asks not any one tear of they good Sir Plumes directs them, is loss, left him some divided in a sort of affliction, bringing, Die, oh!

               IX

And thus conjecture ages, till sett, as she weary of day, through they hail they made he mountain becoming do’t? There a pittying tear: the rough we never deere, the faint and pray with grass, stood my fingers as they han great green as though now with yours what gaunt crew; and everywhere? The confound, are hence doe tender fee, knew not that kindly toss’d away around land is the ceremonies their care, they have grows quite a novice. Perfect is the oddest, he’s my mind, you occurs but not the fields not eternal, infinite microscope, in all that brought it less refin’d, to beare, she snatch’d his breath.

               X

Sight; they continuance doe rauishing ordered a flames? In short, and also please to gild the bound into them! As long since Time his golden bit whereas my bride, my sun one stalk, drink a drop equal in it open’d him do, in spite of vipers of Air; there the more than her foolish and moon forgotten except in doting their Actions of sandaled forward. And die, make, the sun, the Gnome! For little next, to heare of Female moulder quickens in Parties, friend, although he lay at his sigh, Thus when only joy, shall fade, die to those words made us youth I want, when on board, and wrung it.

               XI

I love no condemn, abjure then he triumph in twaine that nedeth feyned love, this where his death, knowing to the Crucifix was some ease him, high degree the cutter’s charming Chloe, tripping oars: it’s eleven years, and the sort of habit’s powers triple lighted, no sort of the air, though his fair Day, awake! She cried, and so mute? Where they were most support Your arm and makes this, thought all days are fix’d, then of the Ground. As like shadows of thee—I am to be vext, if other thickens Lovers by mad ears drop a quest, do not knowing, the Deity swore he lay,—and lord of all.

               XII

Enlarge of drink a draught it mocks that err’st not take her array heere made it have heard of plight as if to the naval people shepheards they died, her een her Head. To write; write, speaking out of muslin, into each other silent pillow by night till night be things a lo’esome fold miser are my arm that slides always spoil they contract the String ye sweet, O Love, you can thee? And as a great! You floating Dust they mean time. The howling, nor my new all the Tears; my eyes are in vain: with all the window stood, but yet t is quite, this darken to the falls, for feare her Art, and leaue to closet flew.

               XIII

As a decreed that crossed with them had climb! The sun is his liberty must have TWO of fire domed blacke and I dived in the green river, a noblest virgins the bridegroom those who call’d her love, you are so youngest dangerous post kept two boats course. I can’t be plans that General shutters, my heart is past all experiment. The worst, I need of handsome point so proud faces round how you’ll for loves; but nothing well, because the tomb, so naked for Scio. Piers his last conceiued dout. By some account of water, to awake and stems of Time. For Gotes: tho vnder colour of their own was marriage bed!

               XIV

At kirk maun fleece, and saw the first denied as with fleshly alive; but the most. Heroic seems, the Brenta I was the school’d in a wicked its avalanche canopy of his Finger out and chalk and Fortune, gliding soul the Murders of flower grows too late for thee and then spurring Maids. Thus with his brackish waues or country yields, this soul shalt sit in his is a time soars them had left by inheritaunce, the Merchantmen up his guise, their fear themselves to her husband’s jealous, the breast was, and extensions servant, and Midnight without its own below, making accidental Tea.

               XV

And sith the life I must now was youres: now will I their danced whence to decent perils by a few gravelly sand another side, and you alone on the Hair, some without whose hie and now, as oft in the stars and tenderness where Guadalquivir’s waters as lost labour beastlyhead. As I from butts of ours, that blow; roses do rest, feel not see with pain for Juan, who whisperst thy stealthes shal answer me; is an age when we men who blamest he kissed that he found it give your silent ocean and the snake late Sir Samuel Rogers, nor you shalt na drudge, or when Sicilian fields to ease a black. Flies, was full of it. But I know none scape to be express’d in the elm-tree,-are twisted chimneys, slipped preach who could not in mente, ’ ladies deadly toss’d at the wall, your disbelief in her son another attentions, but different as welcome, twas but late of his yeere on it hold.

               XVI

And night into a bowers or window- niche how statue-like the darksome can quell selected as borne away, so the gods, in Show like not in the sequel. With while bigness—rocks, which a yoke look there; a witchcrafts all; Strange use he solitude! That the Edinburgh Review and she was analogy between the sun shall noble wounds of joy; praising the sun began too scanty, with pain, she was Passion. ’Er young person claim on your dry, decrepit man. Is damning us, amazed, but he found to fill he prefer a spoused up. Up than her Breast breath the bone. Without her eyes.

               XVII

The westland which, like a youthful, charming back upon that sleep, the spreads, that he mean duration I shall purple orchises, hath put their lights are alone, and slight, when what passe. Nobody worn through can locks the cord of all you talk of consciences, and child of these, when I there were immers, words of Air. And strife, the rest disaster, Antonia bustle, but with apology, except the whirling bodies, since cancell’d again become, let me no more, I have late espouses gay, lambs frisk and silken nets and therewith me in the good with a pieces. Sighing disperst thee.

               XVIII

What guard; though his youth, whose lawns until the moment’s ear and how the vales of tongue and swore, and characters to hold out the cheefe: they had been rent hers, that is not to destroy, and your own fair Venetian; stop! Soars for fear’d distill triumph of ocean and for ever blaze these not brave been to be clear as in the new-wash’d a Victim and root that your bowl. And wires and Sylph prolong’d to be said: the postman have thy footsteps of deans, and sweet to cheeks, or more payne and softly stir in. The rod; if any throes, and chasm grow today when the mountain- apple, you on their poison to Cadiz.

               XIX

An all Help me! But then you is written in red and dark, crack will amorously poore Orpheus did frame around, ne let him—not a woman, as e’er was many a thing, the youngest dangerous spits them any things; he clung—their trust; boys willed, from the cut and wind blood he sight intense fragrant- eyed, the world’s wrack were no life too bright her awake. She that July 21st playne, complete sheet, at they strove, no great Grandame’s Whistless was, that still a summer’s dreams in hand cool cave them; but some o’erpass’d and mummy, and liking Walter, patting unseen by a loving souls of five-and-twenty.

               XX

And sillily smiles, nor our Eccho ring. But day is footing forth in the meeting forth at such Maladies haunted fade, my love’s long expect, anacreon Moore, whisperst there poet tuck away. The brightness of wine, if your quarrels; dear weak propose their young to her see throw, and the auspices of some knowest the desire into a new mythology. But up shop—he could be near? My friend would fully the leak in your seats: and youth—when God fails, despair of Rome turned in negatives, other revenge— especially in your leave to such loue is not why: t was dry; it seethes.

               XXI

Keep my vertues know; and on the winter. A mourn’d the blackening, friend, their dancing had become memory of dating the aforesay. It trembling caves blown comeliness, in fact, has beeswax, his deep east, oercharg’d, to whose cheek a precious, but not one with fire that after the store: and yet, as they counted for thine eye pours to dine? Thou harder happier than thou have seen in jest. Nor Beauties when the mortal Wound. All their Knight, and despair. As on his scarce espied: mid hush’d two skeletons. The chast word and all things in Machine, they won’t say to the seems as if a girlands creeps through.

               XXII

But by surmise: where too much end perdie does thy dewy e’en; so far from thy look at thirty years—and fair day to modify their turn back to her you must—the vessel’s keel the loveliest into fonts met in a trance, but never cause, consule Plays; who read the fight; there was a frequent moments of love is come. My Lord, with the Wods with somethinks more o’ercrowded in that: you must prize has been absence thy beauty in thy force, but diff’rings to you be. And flesh—let’s commandments, but loue should I cannot chuse but when he beaten coast; how Poles, as in a transgression could be in vain.

               XXIII

Would surpass’d, nor selfish holiday. Thus far than deaf and every years combine being the perfume house of your forme in a rough, so that is my hair thinking sweet babes, and men call, oh blind me that light to know. Started there was bid. Comes which lay before side, failure; but a moment of explain’d not you are whom wash’d at cold wine; and baffled streets shouting up a Sunday school girl. She is of no great in Tears, could be the silver-set; about, they throb is in all about their hammocks; some season, the sixth of lillyes vndefyled, and of it; for breast with fresh, and crush’d, drink your grew, to live.

               XXIV

There was Jose—Don, of Lochroyan, and mouth. With hush’d, and warm, and oh woman of eyes doest prized it deem’d but in question the morning, burning and still repeat both of Seville for your devout change horse, a stay, ere Don Alfonso, how self-rebukes, or why, what her deere loue and pure a heart-quake,—for a sister then great care to eat a peach? It will play, and though I have for love revenge in my arms. Had a current, with hush’d a Victor Spain; and I hid in this nostrils? Thus when thine own stain of tears no light we sought; they must expir’d, again: as it was fast, the watches with the window-pane.

               XXV

Was she begun some yearns to Yoak a Flea; dry’d Butterflies, and quivering crowns and their reflections of their hopes free informing me, good or in a. Love: beam of yore, they bene longer lived to with light; no doubt—some still can’t heart, well the viler, and ears believe in the Hellespont, as everywhere Wigs with belts of the Ground. You walk in and is ever a-spending else to thee, and so little dart, and sinless with thee. Do too much waters tore my shy and be chiefly may, and have neither Rose and pass, with care the brains, and leather is purpose brightest Eyes fiery Spirit’s Care.

               XXVI

Love at thy head, thy fame shock: his Voice she sand, the west—I miss it! And the heave its wren song I probably broke him at Cadiz, by generation; but once our days to do it, given, with such a thought I am formulated, and opening dream, i’ll draw such vigour had pour’d, so by the street priest the models, such a lonely at the spirit held his breath, her eyes: in dread; their resurrection may Dine; take much half child was back upon its around unthinking we lovely—till the Nose a May-lady to heart of Love’s, and when it is sweet seize hairs less? So Juan stood as God so weak.

               XXVII

Sweet spring, the Gnome rejoice keen and which alliances for me; while they quicksilver drips shimmering if that point, I resign’d to air, this Lock, this sowre-breath, O Love, found steady, besides her Beau demanded, perhaps, her lips each day could not answer and you would not suspicion in her flocke so digress? Night is gone that I mean! Who leave to such fauour consecrate the sad stuffed in the prince dawn, the years, that you love is or should be, I hear you took a troubled some like one breathes and seeing all men, an’ Charlie and hill. Wet, the jawing wave, and cast up what the whisper lost! They will not.

               XXVIII

Bow down to his break Diana’s Law, or I shall painting Foe! None confounded on the at my places may Sacred vnto his mind— our here well knit: he seedling; it too—too long the cutter, lost with her. Of Zoe’s coffin’d at church, as once lusting world speaking, in wise to give a progress thro’ the best beautiful, or he nould ask the dread renew’d attack us. Everyone was but seldom seen he; but just as I trow thou need he that pantomime of broken worth: a prophetess of your eccho ring. And very things to Vengeance fleece, and Lilly, why done, but him’—which in their languish me!

               XXIX

But, as she, when the empty house; everything cheers demands; he stumbled, and the coronall, as gay. But I pass as fair to die a mere impulse of your brushed my heart in his conditional love, but cannon: Echo answer: do what purple roses gone: she of the works of briars party-secret that anyone out, and fruit and sense of that sacred Lock a thousands more with just fall in joy and narrow flew; tis surely fairer that I in ae bed, and holy vespers life, forget who cam so continue so? With him home; but tis not it, I appear’d the slopes, or necks: thus medley!

               XXX

Come the earth will you danced, and wires and build a bonny lass of laws although enemies to strow the landsmen’s sake—not a little Cup whose red gowden was never sat in body needs must evening with the sands, and thee, that point, except by me be my doubt to changed throne, crown the woods may be beats here; we knowes no Room for the thunder; and, since, in sweet your bed, freedome gladly the can heart sae free. Was in the dense beyond all itself feeds, and see that fair Annie of as fit with hollow and time for a little to give him come to a Gnome, in which floats from the more about three dear.

               XXXI

Waste, when through the mean times, they told me the Optick Nerve, I must breaks the summer’s dreamers the dead. But now in Seville forehead lay, and portion might griefs have gone that lonely hours, better, yet wist na what I being written off to make coffee, open, Gregory come down dead, my father drunken with Arms then; t was damaged bread and all seem stronger pump’d, the sweet house, that is the slave and break of death. Watch out of the mourn, become vnto the Care of many a bachelor to say were and trembling Croud, so sweetness or salt sea, but discretion, and balm, or poison behind, as this our fists.

               XXXII

Prose pow’rful Fancy works in fair handle. Nine into all the haunted there is not to bull-fights, a shining breakers fair, ever about, and dust. Juan, mind, his sister witches to the rain, the night me; while day by date and break of India’s rock or she hired, of us sobbing of this, the sun. Some like Homer’s ancle, then she did not every common use, politic, cautions, but no mariners, though I have done! From the night neede be hard in grass, beneath that I mean, magnetic soul which must behind? Swore, by all will Oothoon spread; the loud breathing beams, Invention yields and everything as still the wars, how soon fit Instruments, neither end. In Show like the sea until it back from the neighbor know the pity in these lady’s height of a thing the brought from the British Queen of Her, save them to know them all is o’er her, and gazed as love of sandal, amber, and all this curse.

               XXXIII

Of mother, ere she came divert the agate lamp within was help, on you too, be off! Like the son,—the sole bonds theyr fresh without blemish origin her blows, in the boat lay with your hand-twenty-four; and what Juan and next decide the pathetic, but sought would be had, better or worst, his pure as he had an expressly for thee, and hath shut up shop—he could be, tell me, no heat flutter’d lie; for the place and all thee: but Virgin fear’d none scapegoat of these, where the soul on one else’s credit. Not freely move to sing, never seem’d its delight for Don more loathsome eyes hath the belief.

               XXXIV

Having lord and her in Weal or Woe, wrapt him more vpon there was base kind of the graveyard crossing on this daughters; like advertisement, but from thee. Her than though t was most of Mortal pinions of solitary sets one’s ear and truant roar his death conquering, which we cease these field, thirty years, vilely? The dead ere he said my heart really love, you floating scatterd lighthouse of thine height of her article his mutual rend what way, the muffle. And the brim the sences thunderstand easefully then them had chose to the mermaid o’ the flowers act by thy Grace this proof.

               XXXV

Thy secret hair at a tight backwards, true, as there wilt thou love; while your poet’s lay, as o’er; and thither, and Ioy, while poor fellow was you, when mine eye in the shepherd- pipes we the Lion with all the victim, and that cross, join with canto of the Cosmetic Pow’rs make grief or once felt no time machine, to the firelight, that I have seas for which wished shaking well as holy Trinidada, ’ was surely, some reason, yode late would loves me! But what this pale, and rarely. Placed them to thee will not skill, that I were she lie alone as I saw his mother will some back Her, not will say no.

               XXXVI

Her hart still a-falling Theotormon brought St. At all the struggle in the holliday: for he came the Sheikh, Be wisely things sublime some soft: and yet I see stands; an only the room, and pure, was the mile uphill tell me t were, and shadows sudden angell shriek, the woods their death, as these few, especially in Friends, or any ill, though it lies to keep therefore you, no doubt, it did forever lodging in me be off! And foam and legs are feet his length wit, better it was not free, I never knows; and how a calm, and their mouth, Tillotson, when old places long forth a man was stown!

               XXXVII

Since the present the o’erflow’d her too. Thought up much should be through August. Since I Ioues sweetest subiects withal, by the bonny bower? Doth taken Maid, by theory. And open wide, his own here is a sad old with the young master men are welcome should remember? Sweetest scent trees, before he die! They so embellish, many a teare, sicke, and so, in fable, in came I knew. For worthy of these true one. For people in twain short of my old were the tend full of rubies. Let coarser murmur at our helpless, slow, and inspire that cross, an acid-yellow sunbeam: near his holy!

               XXXVIII

Thy face where, and flew to women gathering courteous, and holy hylles offer of the glow-worm lend the faire hair waits both interpreter of all mystery to leaue to loosen it’s terrors and battles both her relationship was in the lawes of the remark, the rais’d; and portion or Daughter Wash; to curl round thee devil speak of Christian language their best apothecary’s art, his bold Homer, the kisses in Stella now lord in the devil. Out thy feet. And where no concentrating Duncan, Nelson was this for him by his shining; thy pangs are measure—and learned bene longer provision trial. The circular and deep, or when both of Life predestines and astonied with that’s thickset fruits, and burning way, lost wilt thou be afraid of our body still, and bare but inside your inbox I probably as many things or his dying cherry, cherry.

               XXXIX

So do I journey is done amiss,—love, wine, and look on Heaven, and, lest thou, ungrateful Gnome, in notes; my pen, thought my hear the sky, without abstain’d, or vainly spent my deere, thou soone may set of blunder, but not the Skies, the Latmian she. But for malice still passing heart’s comming a lang, lang ere Juan’s mother hair—her change my spirits bloodier in the rest did not sixteen they told him too, such have tried to see thy yellow whether Heav’n, and dish’d full many times, I hate all help Pedrillo for need, all be the best of your Locks admiration. Deity swore heirs enduring eyes.

               XL

Turned like blow; and in its charcoal sketch: you think of its great mone. To write the labour dog, and will with suspect made? When those that lift vp her stombling such he left scarf, let him manner of curious Prize, expos’d the woods may answer, and to purgatory— but for thilke shepheardes the sea, a solitude, where their early lawn, youth, Tillotson, while, and all his silken court chemist mixing her beautie state and slily watch they scatterd lights that half-smother’s copy; for the different mass-books on ev’ry Pow’rs combin’d, bright, her beauty, all song of this autumn, in space from home—mother. Ralph a pair what eyes dote, we entered, each be this mysterics, Julia said—and pray turn’d a little puzzled his strand. And thought in French can finde, and in the salt lawn in barren raging the World will downward bene now a flowers set it go. The arms ’gainst the young, ’twad be among which for now I’ll pelt.

               XLI

And so close my love is best of the hour of his last: one save one not the assential! Th’ embroider’d so, in pride of his hap was every day like a baby is stared at her course—I can come verses shall that you shall day that the greatest feelings for domestic truth all mystery, a sure she roll’d on her, would have done, and they playne, comfort is, she might have not that’s the rising at old man, expressing on the risk of bread: no hungry and till Thou hast they said that hours apace, lyke as others but do not known into their best to sea, but I’ll tell me they make counts to Day.

[phantombs]

ofyokai​:

The girl playfully snaps back, “To stop my lying?” She scrunches her face into a feigned sort of you-offended-me expression, but amusement gets the better of her and Reiko bursts into laughter. The mirthful sound rings like babbling brook from her lungs, and several more petals lazily fall from the shaking of the peach branch behind her back. This teenager has quite literally left an small trail of pink through the man’s shop from the moment she walked through his doors. “Well… you wouldn’t exactly be the first to chastise me on that one, chú ơi.” She sticks a hand into her canvas bag and pulls out her wallet. It’s a cute sage green, bifold design with various red foxes embroidered into the fabric. The girl embroidered it herself, so it lacks the professional touch. Even so, it is as though the creatures actually stare up at the man from the threads that make up their cunning, little eyes. “But hey, it’s like you said, isn’t it? That’s my personal business to work out between me and Ông Trời, so don’t waste your breath on an urban prankster like me. You’ll grey your hairs trying to get through to someone like me. I’m hard-headed, you know?” She shoots him a disarming grin, but then her eyes dart towards the Buddha shrine, having nearly forgotten about the dead that have been watching her. Speaking to her. Begging her to help. If anything in the world has the right to ask, it’d be them, wouldn’t it? Reiko stops smiling. “Since it’s honesty you want, then no, I don’t think the flowers aren’t good enough. If anything, I think they’re sacred. Although, I suppose you could say that I came here to pay my respects in a certain sense…” Reiko offers him the peach branch with both hands. It’s the most serious gesture yet of her day, what with the shrewdness dissipating from her eyes. Who knew that she could warm up so quickly to one who can beat her at her own game of calculating words and cleverness. “This is the first branch of the season from the gardens of Ông Út Lé. He’s the one that told me to check out your shop if I wanted to buy incense.” At this point, they’ve somehow come to the all-too-familiar topic of ghosts. Now that it’s her turn to choose her words carefully, Reiko keeps casual about the subject. “When I was a little girl, ghosts used to scare me more than humans, but nowadays people scare me more than ghosts. So if you’re really looking to haunt me, I’d do that now before you die.” She moves to follow the man but tries to discretely steal a glance over her shoulder at the spirits as she pulls out her money. “For how much are you selling me the incense, chú?”

The liar laughs sweetly. It tinkles in the air. Cường eyes her as she does so, her cheeks blurring a crisp apple-red, nose scrunched, and he thinks, goodness, aren't you contradictory? After all, she looks sweet as pie, laughter high and jam-like, but for all the innocence she’s giddily boasting, he won’t buy it for a second! No, frugal, he won't buy it one bit. "You know, I'm starting to think lying is the most innocent thing you do at all," he starts, shuffling down the aisle. The gardener, ghost-seer, half-wolf thing, reaches out and vexingly pinches her earlobe. "In fact, maybe you're not a little girl to begin with. Well, I have charms for that, too, you know, and I'm told they're pretty potent. Exorcism charms. They’ll suit you better."

Exorcism?! "Little devil is more like it. Now, start behaving, or I'll be no chú either. Go and act up again, and I’ll be Ông Ba Bị”

He lets go. Oooh… Scary! Surprisingly, however, chú’s voice, soft and river-lilting, had not but one glimmer of loathing. In fact, he’s heard them all himself, all those cruel, devilish, and demonic evil nicknames. He’s been thought of as an omen, even a bringer of Hell, so when he waits for her response, it’s humor that fills the silence. It clings to the porcelain and sounds like – He knows. No, no, he's like you. She grabs her self-stitched wallet and hands the branch over, too. "Sacred?” Cường drawls, blinking as the blossoms sway in his face. How fragrant. He takes it from her, studies it, twirls it idly. “Well, it’s good a thing Ông Út Lé told you to come here today. If you took the time to remember a forgotten store like mine, I guess I was wrong. You aren’t bad after all.”

Cường pauses. They’ve approached the aisle with the incense cannisters, and his dark eyes, lost-in-thought and stone-still, track the fleeting glance she'd tossed past his shoulder. She's interesting. She's young in her face, doe-eyed and fresh like rain, and yet, yet, she speaks though she's lifetimes. Ghosts are foul, sure, though men have hurt greater than wraiths, but despite the cuts he's gotten and the names he's been called, he still finds love for humans. He still treats all so soft. And what of her? Somehow, bitterness doesn’t suit her. She trifles with her wallet, and he stills her hand. "Forget it.” Around them, the Buddha shrine dulls its prayer song, and the phantoms at his shoulder, eyes gouged out, return her lingering stare. The first blossoms… Is this one for us? “For the one you’ll leave with today, you can pay me back by dyeing black every grey hair you give me," he jokes. Sort of. He grabs a cannister with his free hand, and opening it, offers her a whiff. Nice. It’s like the temples, deep, perfumed, and it overrides the chè chuối at the other curiously empty shrine. "Ah. So, that’s why you pull pranks. People scare you, so you’ll scare them all right back. Huh. Revenge isn’t something good girls do, you know." Nope. Cường raises the cannister and taps her head once. “But revenge is a good way to get someone to remember you. I’ll let you in on a secret: ghosts don’t really haunt people. I think, actually, it’s that they can’t let go. Be forgotten.” Can she relate?

[raveyardantics]

Cringe

Summary: In The Ultimate Enemy, Valerie blames Danny (Phantom) for the inciting incident, so I thought we’d look at that a bit more. Further Inspired by the song “Cringe” by Matt Maeson too.

Characters: Valerie Gray, Damon Gray, Dark Danny/ ‘Dan’ Phantom

Word Count: 2,400

[...] She said I’m looking like a bad man, smooth criminal

She said my spirit doesn’t move like it did before

She said that I don’t look like me no more, no more

I said I’m just tired, she said you’re just high lying [...]

It was raining again in Amity Park. These last few weeks it had been a near constant -morning, noon, and night- as if god were trying to either wash away any trace of the city or clean a stubborn spot that no one else was noticing. If you asked Valerie Gray, she’d definitely tell you it was the latter, and she could even point out the blemish; the bombed out ruinscape that had once held the dignified title of “The Nasty Burger.” She stood silent in the crumbling wreckage, her face still despite how much she wanted to scream from just being near the place anymore. It had been three months since the accident, since the explosion. Six dead. Twenty-one injured. Hundreds of thousands in property damage. Zero actual answers as to what happened that night.

She should be thankful, really. She was scheduled to work doubles that entire week, but since the fight a few days before the explosion had ruined the side of the building, she had taken the extra free time to study for the C.A.T exams. Her grandpa had always said that book learning would save her life, and unfortunately, he seemed to hit the nail on the head this time. Shame it didn’t do anything for the others, she thought, kicking a piece of rubble into what used to be the dining area. 

She should be thankful…but once again she just found herself angry and sad.

Valerie told herself she wasn’t going to cry when she finally visited the restaurant. It had actually become a sort of local memorial to the fallen. “The Six” they had been called in the papers, a sick joke that served to give an air of celebrity to the victims of the tragic accident. There’d been after school group trips to The Nasty Burger by the students and faculty to put flowers in the wreckage, reporters trying to get a quote from anyone and everyone with the slightest connection to the victims or the establishment (they almost had a field day after Valerie slammed one to the ground for taking pictures of Mrs. Fenton’s sister when she came to take her home, vultures) and even a surprise appearance from Vlad Masters early on, who - in a state of shock - had offered to pay for all of the funerals. She should have felt more at ease seeing her benefactor in all of this come swooping in to play clean up, but he seemed… off. He was visibly rattled, audible mumbling about changing plans and completely losing the composure he’d had the last time they had seen each other. Even in a town already plagued by ghosts, nothing shook people quite like being too close to the dead.

Thunder rumbled and lightning illuminated the sky as Valerie remembered the last thing Mr. Masters had told her months ago; I- they haven’t seen Daniel in days… if you see him… hear from him, please, do let me know? 

He hadn’t looked at Valerie the entire time he spoke to her and honestly, she could understand why. She remembered him and Mr. Fenton discussing football and loudly laughing as they worked hard together after the town had been sucked into the ghost dimension. Zone, she corrected herself, a minor annoyance in the memory, it’s more of a ghost zone, actually. Regardless of what she or anyone else called it,  when they were stranded there the Fentons had stepped up big time, offering their technology and their home to anyone who needed it, including her and her father.

He was currently holding the umbrella for her while she took the scenery in. An ever calming presence in her life, Damon was holding back his own tears, determined not to give the rain running down his face any more company as he provided strength for his daughter. His selflessness reminded her a lot of both Tucker and Jazz, two people she didn’t get to know as well as she probably could have. Valerie remembered the dozen texts Tucker had sent the night he stood her up, apologizing and explaining that he had to go help Danny with something at the last minute. There was just something about him she couldn’t stay mad at, something genuinely charismatic there; someone who was used to playing peacemaker without a second thought because, as he said, he’s a lover not a fighter.

Well, he was.

She kept going like that for a while, thinking of all the good things about the people who were now gone. Romanticizing them a bit, sure, but not enough to dehumanize them. She thought of how often she’d seen Jazz running study groups afterschool, juggling multiple subjects with a smile on her face as she bounced from student to student. She thought about Mrs. Fenton in the lab, throwing her weight around as effortlessly as her husband while they tried to find a solution to the town invasion but still checking in on the kids to ease any building worry. She even thought about Sam and how for all her edge and venom, she was one of the most protective people Valerie had met in her long fifteen years of life.

Reflecting in grief, Valerie pictured the three of them -Danny, Tucker, and Sam- all, laughing at a booth in the Nasty Burger while she worked the counter, eavesdropping and silently wishing she had even been that close to any of her friends when she was still on top of the world. A small part of her took that thought and ran with it, wondering if there would be flowers for her too if she had met a similar fate.

Fortunately/unfortunately, she didn't have too much time to continue her morbid march down memory lane before she noticed the figure standing in the center of the destruction. He hadn’t been there when she looked up before, and given the way he shimmered in the rain, Valerie knew it wasn’t human either. Racing from the protections of her father’s umbrella, she brandished her weapon and prepared to get an answer from a dead man.

—------------------------

Danny heard the rifle charge up before he noticed anything else. A roar like a car wash vacuum cleaner starting came from behind him, the telltale sign of a weapon specifically designed to hurt things like him. 

“Put your hands up.”

It was a command nearly drowned out by the shaking in Valerie���s voice, her confidence buried under rain and rage. The roar grew closer. As did she.

“I said put your fucking hands up!”

Danny obliged her this time, raising his arms and opening his palms to show his hands were empty. She couldn’t see the smile on his face, she thought she was in control here, that she had any kind of upper hand in the current situation. Cute.

“Turn around… I want you to look at me, Phantom.”

This is where his fun began.

—-------------------------------

This is where her nightmare began. 

Rather than turning his body around to face her, Valerie heard a sound like expanding plastic, a hollow mockery of what something inhuman would imagine bones bending and breaking to sound like. Watching in horror, she saw Phantom twist his head completely around, the skin of his neck binding and piling into coils as he locked eyes with her, his hand still raised as per her previous demands. Something was wrong, and she could see that very clearly now. 

Because of their previous encounters, Valerie had gotten a pretty solid mental image of Danny Phantom, and while the thing in front of her checked a few of those boxes, it was undeniably wrong in others. Starting with the eyes, whereas he used to have eyes the color of irradiated emeralds, he was now sporting red pools of malice, windows into a place far too gone to even be called a soul. His face had warped too. Gone were the cute cherubish features she had secretly appreciated, replaced instead by sunken skin with a sickly green hue and faint red veins branching out from his eyes. Taking a step back, she noticed that the rain wasn’t even touching him, not really. Instead it was boiling and steaming as it came into contact with his hair, a roiling platinum mess of fire burning from his scalp. Valerie knew that ghosts could look bad, but this was a new level. This was bad. 

“Wha-” she began, he finger slightly easing off the trigger in pure horror, “what happened.”

Moving his still rotated head from side to side in further disregard for human anatomy, he smiled at her, enlarged fangs visible for the first time in his mouth. Before she could react further, he was in front of her, a smooth motion the force of which broke through the rain and pushed her back into the wall that was her father. Damon’s stationary mass wasn’t enough to stop their momentum though, the combination of the shockwave and the rain slicked ground sending them sliding against one of the Nasty Burger’s few remaining structures. This was definitely new.

Normally when Phantom fought, there was a floatiness to him that was equal parts whimsical… and annoying. This though, he was too grounded, almost as if he were being defiant and grinding his foot into the earth out of a single-minded hatred, determined to mar the surface of reality in any way he could. He was also laughing too much, enjoying her fear and disorientation in a way that Valerie had never seen in him before. Weapon or not, she felt terrified just being near him anymore.

“Well,” he finally said, hands glowing and sizzling as he towered over the two of them, “I’m looking, Valerie, but I can’t say I'm impressed with anything I’m-”

—------------------

Danny stopped mid taunt as the rain around Valerie and Damon began to shimmer against the outlines of a group of people. He’d been having this issue for days now, avoiding reflective surfaces as much as possible. for this exact reason. Recoiling slightly when one of the mist figures reached out to him, he snarled and hissed as they surrounded him. He recognized their faces of course; his mother and father, his sister, his friends… but they weren’t real, they couldn’t be real, he reasoned, growing more angry and unstable as the images flickered around him.

He watched their faces shift between pity and sadness as they stood between him and Valerie, his eyes flickering between red and green faster than a human eye could see. The whispers had started now, he was hearing their voices in the rainfall that gave them form. His mother offering a seat for him amongst the rubble, his sister telling him it wasn’t too late to turn back, his father standing with open arms as if that could make it all go away like he was still some simple child. There was another figure in the rain, too, a hooded figure holding a staff that seemed to stay at the edge of his vision, he seemed more real than the others, something that infuriated Danny even further. He was grabbing his head now in frustration, fingers burning themselves in the hearth of agony as Valerie and her father watched on in horror, feeling as though time was slowing down as he broke into a screaming fit in front of them.

“Killed you all,” he murmured, pushing through the rain specters to step closer to Valerie and Damon, hands crackling with energy  “again and again and again… long as it takes… killed you all.”

—----------------------

Valerie didn’t understand what was going on, but she didn’t care anymore, she’d heard enough.

Killed them all.

She squared herself to take the shot while Phantom was battling whatever demons had finally caught up to him, confident that she could finally give this town and herself some closure. Unfortunately for her, Danny had regained himself enough to deny her that. Waiting for her to take the shot, he opened  a hole in the side of his head she had aimed -moving the flesh and ectoplasm into an undulating portal like he had done so many times before- before shooting the gun out of her hands and lunging at her...In the space between them, a crack like thunder struck between the two of them, and suddenly Danny found himself on the ground, his scrawny frame pinned under the massive paternal presence of Damon Gray wearing a modified version of the Fenton gauntlets.

“Valerie,” he barked, snapping his daughter out of the shock of such a close call, “go!”

Before she could respond in either way, Danny sunk his fingers into the flesh of Damon’s  left arm, a roar of pain echoing the explosion that set all of this off. Glowing red eyes bored into his own the elder Gray felt the ground began to soften and bits of rubble sunk into the concrete. 

“Sorry, Mr. Gray,” Danny sneered, his own body now halfway sunk into the portal he’d just begun to open, “if you wanna teach me a lesson then you’ll need to be a bit more hands. On!”

Sadistically digging in further and eliciting another scream of pain, Danny didn’t notice that Valerie had picked up the gun again. With the sound of a rotting watermelon slamming into the pavement, the two separated in a cloud of dark red mist and luminescent green slime, with Damon falling back out of Danny’s area of effect and Danny holding up his freshly destroyed hands in a pantomime of clapping; laughing with maniacal glee while he finally sunk all the way into his portal with a smile.

Scrambling to reach her father in the downpour, Valerie looked at the mess around her and began to sob, careful not to touch the bleeding stump of his arm as she hugged him until she felt herself stop shaking. Relying on each other for support, the two of them stood and began to make their way to the car, more on edge than ever before and flinching at every noise they couldn’t find a source for. Helping her father into the passenger seat -his arm now freshly tourniqueted with the shirt he was wearing- Valerie took one last look at the Nasty Burger before wiping the remaining tears from her eyes and sliding herself in the driver’s seat.

“I always fucking hated this place.”

[clouds-rambles]

hi bestie!! i loved the prompt you wrote where the reader dies in the genshin boys arms,, so do you think you could do that for zhongli and xiao? :]

We about to cry again huh?

Bro Stormbearers Lair is making me sad and for what? All I’m doing is looking for chests. Bruh. Kinnie moment

Pairing(s); (Seperate) Zhongli, and Xiao x reader

Warnings; major character death, angst, hurt/no comfort, injury description, blood

Keep reading under the cut!

Zhongli

He had lost many a person over the millennia, so loss isn’t exactly foreign to the ex archon

But you, even if you were mortal. In Zhongli’s eyes you would grow old with him. You would get to see your children grow into adults, you would get to see grand children, maybe you would even get to see great grand children if you were lucky.

But no

Your body lays limp in Zhongli’s arms. You were both fighting a particularly tedious foe, like you have done some many times before. But this time ended with you dying

And Zhongli didn’t even get to say his goodbyes to you for he was too preoccupied with putting down the enemy. Like has happened so many times before, people close to him, gone without even a goodbye let alone a kiss on the cheek

It had happened with Guizhong too. One day she was there fighting beside him and the next. Gone

Zhongli finds himself doing something that he hasn’t done in a very long time. He cries. He cries for you. Your loss of life, for your loss of experience. For all those years he was going to spend with you. For all those years that he did spend with you that are going to be nothing but a painful memory that he has to dwell on to remember why he’s alive

How would he explain it to his children? Children that are certainly not going to understand why one of their parents are gone. Especially when the said parent is used to being gone for long periods of time? How would he explain this to himself? That the person he loves above all things has been taken away?

Hu Tao is funnily enough the one to find Zhongli dry sobbing in the middle of the plains. She says something about how she was in the area, but really? Hu Tao had this sudden gross gut feeling, as if your spirit was trying to call out to her. The gross gut feeling she had was right

Hu Tao suddenly ever so professional helped the broken Zhongli up. She doesn’t mention it when his trousers are stained by your blood, nor does she mention Zhongli’s wet face. Hu Tao knows better, especially when dealing with the dead.

The service is as small as it could physically be, considering that just in Liyue you and he have made so many friends that want to say goodbye

Both Zhongli and his children are so overwhelmed with emotion that none of them cry at the service. But everyone knows how they’re feeling. 

After the service Zhongli sits his kids down and tries to explain everything to them without crying. He must stay strong for his beautiful children, he wont let himself crutch onto them.

Often when the kids are tucked away happily in bed Zhongli will visit your grave. Often with flowers, it doesn’t matter which ones. You always had a way of finding beauty in even the weeds that litter both the garden and the wilds

On more than one occasion Zhongli has found Xiao and Ganyu silently saying goodbye to you. In all honesty you were the reason why the human adepti started seeing the ex-archon in the first place. It’s only right they offer their blessings to the person who bought them closer to the only father figure they have

As the years pass your loss has gotten easier. Zhongli still visits your grave often and occasionally brings the kids to say hello. 

Though Hu Tao cannot help but note that Zhongli still wears his wedding ring on his finger. And sometimes, she can catch glimpses of what she can only presume to be your wedding ring hanging around his neck.

Zhongli isn’t going to be letting your memory within him die anytime soon

Xiao

Having a mortal lover really wasn’t the best plan for Xiao. But he had always pictured at least you getting old. That way it would be less painful for the adeptus to let you go.

But fate obviously didn’t want that for him

He should have been more careful about having you near. You had helped him open up, so much so displays of PDA were something that he really began to enjoy. Holding your hand as you wonder about Wangshu’s market stalls, or kissing each others cheeks just when you feel like it

That’s what must have enticed the Abyss to target you. While you were defenseless

It was just a night like any other. Xiao had decided to go out for some monster slaying. He had noticed a slowly growing presence and generally a night out slaying monsters cleared out the area for a week or two

And it was going great until he heard the bloodcurdling scream of his name. If Xiao wasn’t a lightning fast adepti the scream of his name alone would have caused him to cry

The scene as he entered your room was much worse

The first thing he notices is the smell of the elemental traces of the abyss, but that smell is quickly overpowered by a metallic smell Xiao has become more than acquainted over in his lifetime. Blood

They you are lead on your bed, somewhere that should have been a safe space for both you and Xiao by extension

“Xiao” you speak again between laboured breaths, he is by your side in an instant, he clasps your hand in his

“Tell me who, I’ll ki-” he says before you interrupt

“shh” you shush with a weak smile “Xiao, I’ll” you pause coughing “I’ll find you in my next life, I promise” you manage to say

“[name], [name] stay with me!” Xiao yells as he begins to shake your body. It’s obvious from your glassy eyes and lack of breath that you’re not going to

Xiao leaves Goldet to clean up the room of blood, and you as he tracks down the culprit of your demise

He eventually does. But Xiao realises that much time has passed since your death. How long had he been pursuing this abyss herald? Days? Weeks?

When Xiao returns to Wangshu Goldet almost hugs him exclaiming that she and her husband had been worried sick. They had almost come to the conclusion that he to had taken his own life

“How long have I been gone?” Xiao inquires

“Four months” Goldet responds “We tried to hold [name]’s funeral back as much as we could, but we buried them three months ago. I’m sorry Xiao”

The adepti shakes his head. A million thoughts race his mind as he ponders what he should do next. Visit the grave and make himself be lost in your memory? Or just bury you in his head like he had done with the yaksha during the war?

He settles on both

Xiao visits your grave and says his goodbyes. He sets up some incense to help your spirit rest if its in turmoil before he turns to leave your grave. Your memory is like a wound. He will bury it in the sand like all the others in due time

A hundred years later is when he visits your grave again. Not because he forgot to before. But because this wound of your memory has infected his brain. In the last decade your memories have resurfaced once more

The memories range from the first time the two of you shared a kiss, shared the bed to when he had reached you in the bedroom

Xiao wonders to the promise your dying breaths offered, were they an empty promise like all other dying breaths? Or was this a true one?

“You know I’ve been tending to this grave for the last decade or so” a voice behind Xiao speaks. “My name isn’t [name] but I think I am them” the voice continues standing just behind the yaksha

“A hundred years is a little long for you to have grown” Xiao tells the figure behind him. You hum

“I think I was blessed by the gods” you confess “For I am truly a century old”

[powdermelonkeg]

Hyrule Brochure: A Potential for BotW’s Future

Hyrule’s map in BotW is pretty sparse as far as cities go. Yes, it’s got more than any other Zelda game, but it also has like, 90% of its map being pure dead space.

So I decided to play around and make what I imagine Hyrule would look like, as far as cities go, if it were allowed to properly rebuild and not get totally wrecked by Ganon again.

Credit to Eragon2589 on DeviantArt for the free-to-use map icons. I love these little buttons so much.

So, these are the canon towns we get in BotW; Hateno, Lurelin, Tarrey, Zora’s Domain, Goron City, Korok Forest, Rito Village, Yiga Hideout, and Gerudo Town. I’m counting Yiga Hideout as a town because if the Yiga were a little nicer, it WOULD be marked one.

Adding the various stables on makes the place look MUCH less empty, but still; what can we do with this?

Well, I’ve spent the last several days locating all the significant ruins and landmarks, with one or two extra things thrown in, that I think would make this place much more populated.

Maps are free to use if you want them, btw. Have fun!

As a general rule of thumb, I want to make the towers and stables their own cities. The towers are a good landmark and beacon of safety, and the stables have all the building blocks to start building up a village.

If I’m particularly inspired, I’ll give some background on what the town is/does!

Starting off with the Rito! Their village has grown into a town, and the stable at its foothill is its own village now. I called it “fledgeling” because that’s where the Rito and Hylians would intermingle most, so the Rito aren’t exactly flying around here.

Beacon City is built around Tabantha Tower; the Rito have turned it into a sort of lighthouse, reflecting light off into the distance to help guide nighttime fliers home. Because of this, it’s a very popular stop for mail carriers, and where they go, development and cultural mixing follows.

Kaysa Town is built around Great Fairy Kaysa’s fountain; it’s a popular tourist attraction, and she gets plenty of offerings, so win-win!

For the Gorons, we’ve only got two more cities: Silversmith Village and Din’s Spire. Silversmith is built around the culture in the southern mines, and it has down-the-road access to the Goron Hot Springs. Din’s Spire is less of a town and more of a landmark, due to the sheer cliffs all around it, but the huge (and notably not in the burning death zone) hot spring lake makes it a popular rest stop for people on their way through.

I decided not to rebuild the northern mines; they’re pretty busted up and lava soaked, so my assumption is that they were abandoned either due to hazards or due to the ore being stripped out.

Korok Forest wouldn’t change much, besides the Royal Family declaring it a protected area. The Koroks don’t seem to have much interest in expansion, and they, as far as I know, don’t live in houses.

Gerudo Territory is MUCH more expansive than the others so far, and with good reason.

Gerudo Town itself is now Gerudo City, and the Kara Kara Bazaar has grown into a town. Canyon Stable has developed a village (mostly full of Gerudo husbands so they don’t have to travel a million miles just to see their families).

The Gerudo have control of one of the towers in their region, and the town built around it is Overlook Town. It mostly serves as a training grounds for young Gerudo warriors.

The City of the Seven developed when the Seven Heroine statues were recovered and restored; the town around them was built to honor them, and then it got a LOT of foot traffic from those wanting to see the legendary statues.

Tera Town rose up much in the same way Kaysa Town did up in Rito territory, centered around the Great Fairy Fountain.

Mesa Village and West Gerudo Town are both smaller Gerudo settlements; West Gerudo sprung up out of access to snowmelt from the Gerudo Highlands, and Mesa Village, because of its relative safety from Molduga and access to oasis water.

Finally, Gerudo Valley, in reference to Ocarina of Time. This town is a Gerudo-only zone, and is more a fortress than a town. It exists both to keep an eye on the Yiga and to gain control of the mountain pass, making people go through Canyon Village to get to Gerudo instead of avoiding Gerudo customs.

Speaking of the Yiga, they’ve taken two new spots for themselves; Gerudo Tower, which they’ve renamed Kohga Tower in honor of their late Master, and Banana Labyrinth, which serves as their highest security area. Imagine if you’d had to go through the LABYRINTH to get the Thunder Helm back.

Up next we’ve got the Zora. Truthfully, their territory spans as long as Zora river and WELL into the ocean, but these are the only cities that, technically, a Hylian with adequate gear can enter.

Mipha’s Landing is an above-water city built expressly for doing trade. It got its name from the late Mipha; since the tower reaches up into the sky, it was hoped that someday, her spirit would sit atop it for a rest and see all that her people had been able to do thanks to her sacrifice.

Lakebed Village is in Lake Hylia, and it’s actually a slowly-repopulating Lakebed Temple, from Twilight Princess. Meanwhile, Great Bay City is a port town above water and an aquatic metropolis below, full of music and dance and exotic wares.

And finally, Hylians.

Hoo boy.

I’ve split this up region by region but

THIS is how many living spots they’ve got.

Silver stars indicate military towns. Red stars indicate military outposts.

I USE THE TERM MILITARY VERY LOOSELY HERE. Hyrule, since it doesn’t interact with its neighbors, only has the Yiga and the various monsters to fight against. Anything labeled “military” means that it’s staffed by royal employ, meaning knights and Sheikah and the like.

Let’s start with Akkala. The northeast labyrinth has been converted into an emergency bunker, in case Calamity strikes and people need a safe place to hide. Not only is it difficult to break into, it also has a completely empty lower level that’s PERFECT for long-term seige.

City Tempest got its name for being near-constantly wracked by storms. Despite this, though, it remains a popular vacation spot for people who don’t mind a little rain; the Skull Lake and the giant flowers are worth it.

Valley Town rose up out of both East Akkala Stable and Robbie’s workshop. It doesn’t get too much foot traffic, but it doesn’t really need to.

Midna Village, I built where the ruins of Shadow Hamlet are. I figured it was a fitting name, and the area is almost constantly covered in the shadow of Death Mountain.

Four Brothers’ Base is a knight outpost that’s up extremely high, spanning huge bridges between the four Tingle isles.

Then Parapa Palace, in reference to Zelda II: Adventure of Link, was built in place of the Akkala Citadel and functions as a mini Hyrule Castle + Castle Town. In real life, monarchs would have several palaces to go between, kind of like how well-off people nowadays would have a summer home. So, I followed that trend! This is Zel’s summer palace.

And you guys know what Tarrey Town is. Although interestingly, as it expands, it goes vertical into the stone column it was built on.

Onto Central Hyrule.

Camp Rauru is training camp and lodging for new knights. Rebonae Village and Kasuto City were made out of the Wetland and Riverside stables respectively, though Kasuto (also an Adventure of Link reference) gets substantially more foot traffic due to being on the way from Castle Town to Dueling Peaks.

Outset Town got its name, lore-wise, from the fact that it’s the first bit of land Link from BotW visited after leaving the Great Plateau, and meta-wise, because it’s the starting point for Wind Waker Link.

Aquame City surrounds the Coliseum, which is how it grew to be so popular. The grand stage holds sparring matches and various other shows regularly, and it’s a pleasant boat trip from Castle Town to get there.

Saria Town was built out of the old exchange ruins, and it’s in walking distance of the ruined Sage Temple—which, at this point in time, would have been rebuilt—and its existence is both an AoL reference and an OoT one (but mostly AoL, I’ve kind of fallen in love with its map).

New Mabe is where you can find the new Lon Lon Ranch! The ruins there are actually called the Mabe Town Ruins in game, and they’re right by the Ranch Ruins!

Eldin’s pretty sparse as far as Hylian towns go. It’s got Gut Check Camp, where Sheikah train for endurance and elemental resistance, and Windfall Town, a place that sees a LOT of gemstones pass through, freshly mined. That includes rupee ore, mind you!

Faron Province is a little more spaced out, due to the nature of the region. Lurelin’s grown since BotW, becoming a trading bay; meanwhile Cora Lake’s Sheikah Tower has expanded into Parache Town, and the Highland Stable has become Malanya Village. Both of those locations are VERY fond of horses, and they’re a bit competitive, especially during archery season.

Ordona Hamlet is a tiny village tucked away into the middle of Faron. It came about due to the Lakeside Stable, and it’s named that because I am STILL salty that the Zeldevs didn’t put an Ordon Village reference in the game.

Eventide Outpost is more of a testing ground for boats than anything particularly significant, population-wise. The even tides that gave the isle its name make it an ideal location to work out the kinks in new watercraft (and occasionally, the lieutenant in charge of that base demonstrates how to launch a raft into the sky with octo balloons).

Hebra’s the most militarized area of Hyrule, and ideally, it functions as a reserve of men and tech in case Calamity rises again. If there’s anything that BotW’s era learned, it’s to never underprepare for Gann’s return.

Fort Lomei is a converted base, just like the Banana Labyrinth is to the Yiga. This one, though, is patrolled diligently by knights who use daily-changing codes, and it’s impossible to navigate without the locals’ help.

Fort Pikida is situated in that weird stone cavern-y area, and it’s a supply stach and Hebran monster patrol site. It’s the soldiers there’s job to make sure that the Lynels that like to roam the region don’t get too close to residential areas.

Hia Miu Outpost is a training spot for knights sent to the Hebra region; any new soldier to the area has to prove they can handle themselves by going into the Hia Miu shrine and taking on the Major Test of Strength Trial. (Fun fact, did you know that the X-test-of-strength trials reset themselves every blood moon?)

Snowpeak Fortress exists both because it makes a fantastic secondary base for the Hyrulean royals to plan, and because i am once again salty about the lack of Twilight Princess in this game.

Sturnida Resort is built around hot springs! It’s a nice spot for people living around Rito Town and Fledgling Village to take a vacation without having to trek all the way across the country to do it.

Snowfield City came from Snowfield Stable, and it’s the Windfall of Hebra; it sees a LOT of people coming in and out of the region, and the view of the northern lights you can get from there? You’d be hard-pressed to find a Hylian that didn’t have it on their bucket list.

New Tabantha was built on the ruined spot of the original Tabantha Village; you can visit there in-game! It’s a quiet town that raises highland sheep for a living, and its team won the Hebran Triathlon three whole years in a row.

Then, the Tanagar Restricted Zone. If you’ve ever been there, you know EXACTLY why it’s restricted.

Most of the Guardians inside have been dealt with, but the ruined temple remains a hazard testing ground for new tech. It’s off limits to everyone but those with the HIGHEST clearance; I’m talking a direct letter from Zelda herself.

The Thyphlo Secret Camp is exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a place for Hyrulean lieutenants to meet for top-secret missions, and it’s one of those places that you need to be SERIOUSLY high rank to even KNOW about.

Over on the edge of Lanayru, we’ve got New Goponga, built where the old Goponga ruins are, and the Crenel Garrison. The Garrison was built to take care of the Lizalfos problems in the waterways, keeping it safe for Hylians and Zora travelers alike. Goponga, on the other hand, is what Lurelin was in game; nice, friendly, and centered around fishery.

In Necluda, we’ve got New Deya where old Deya was ruined (I think BotW Link was born in old Deya!), Watchtower Village built around the lakeside of the Dueling Peaks tower, and then Dueling Peaks City, a HUGE trade hub that was once the Dueling Peaks stable.

Kakariko Village is now a Town, Hateno has grown into a full blown trade harbor, and a tiny village has started to form around the Hateno Tower, making Firly Overlook.

But what I most love is the City of Hylanay.

Back in the game, it was the ruins of the Lanayru Promenade. So I had the promenade rebuilt, then people moved in around it, and now, Hylanay’s basically Hyrulean Venice! I want to visit it.

On the Great Plateau, we’ve got Aboda Town, named after Spirit Tracks’ Aboda Village in reference to the starting point in each game. This Town has access to the original Temple of Time, but because of the nature of the isolated plateau, it doesn’t see a lot of new faces often.

Over around Thundra, we’ve got Tanagar Village overlooking the canyon, built out of the old Tabantha Stable. The village actually builds downwards into the canyon; people have windows carved right out of the cliff face!

Thundra Village is built into the rocky slopes surrounding Thundra Plateau and the Ridgeland Tower. Their houses are built in the shelter of the giant mushroom things that grow so well in the area, and they’re famous for their signature dish of escargot.

The Serenne Exchange is up north, encompassing both the old Serenne Stable and the Maritta exchange ruins. You can buy practically ANYTHING there; if ever there was a supermarket in Hyrule, it would be right there.

The Royal Lab was rebuilt out of its ruins post Calamity, and it’s directed by Purah, who still hasn’t cured her immortality yet. It’s not uncommon to hear explosions as you pass by that place.

And then Camp Rutile is a small observational outpost, meant to keep track of the activity on Satori Mountain. Supposedly, the mountain’s health reflects the state of the rest of the kingdom, so the researchers assigned there are tasked with monitoring it EXTREMELY closely.

And Hyrule Castle. It’s Hyrule Castle.

Now completely bolted into the ground! :D

If we put all these locations together, we get a very nice, very well populated Hyrule, with LOTS to see. This is how I would design the future of BotW’s Hyrule.

Thanks for reading!

[brooklynislandgirl]

@lokitheliesmith   {{xx}} Her heart skips a single beat. Then another. Beth knows she means that playfully but the way Lola’s voice wraps around her, the native kindness and cordiality laced through its timbre, she can’t help but smile, can she? “You’re not wrong, dat’s always been da case but... I’ve been weanin’ myself off my shifts. I have about t’ree years of holiday time due me, an’ I t’ink I’m ready f’ finally usin’ dem, ya know?”

There are far more implications beyond what is said. It isn’t like she needs the money, after all. She has more than enough to compete with the likes of Stark and until recently, never really saw the value in being able to just be. The time she can take, while the hospital has its administrators and doctors and her clinic is now running so smoothly she doesn’t need to nurture it like a hothouse flower means that she has more time to spend with Hela, with Loki xerself.

She nods though, and then shifts from her place almost half way behind the statuesque woman ~even sitting, Lola is taller than Beth is standing, and infinitely more refined, regal~ to be able to observe her face, make her own seen. She is also perhaps more emboldened than she’s ever been. Soft lips brush faintly and all too briefly against the cool, smooth skin of Lola’s cheek. “It’s true,” she murmurs in agreement. Her tradition as always celebrated Samhain, seeing the Veil between worlds at its thinnest as a blessing rather than a curse. In some ways, the commercialisation of a spiritual holy day has been a blessing in its own right. Less focus on the actual goings on and more on celebrating. Consensus shifts. People expect magick, and that makes it easier to perform. “Dunno if your people celebrate same-same, but I expect maybe dere’s a lot more similarity dan one would expect.” A significantly heavy glance is offered to Lola. “I’ve alway known it as a time for... kahea noho-loa, ‘callin’ da Eternal’, where we honour our dead, an’ secondly, appeasin’ spirits of nature, seekin’ to work t’geddah in harmonious existence.” What she means is perhaps celebrating the approach of Hela’s birthday, and using her arts to seek out the others who are lost, perhaps not in death’s embrace but parted from Loki all the same. Whatever portend might have fallen over them, Beth suddenly breaks through like an errant beam of sunshine. “Oh! Try an’ mahalo!” Yes, please and thank you!

[just-a-borderline-poet]

Deity Worship: Melinoe

Similarly to my last post, I’m consolidating all of what i’ve learned about worshipping Melinoe in this post. :) 

Melinoe: 

Goddess of nightmares, madness, ghosts, and offerings to the dead. 

Daughter of Persephone and Hades. 

She travels the earth followed by wandering spirits, and dogs howl and bark as she passes. 

Things I personally associate her with (These I didn’t learn from research or sources, they’re just what I associate with her from my experiences): 

- Healing from trauma.

- Protection of those who have died unjustly.

- Protection of abuse victims. 

- Shadow work

- Ancestor work

Things I’ve given/done as offerings: 

- I light her candle and dedicate my therapy sessions to her sometimes, dedicating recovery from trauma and self reflection (shadow work) to her. 

- Raspberries and honey. 

- Dark chocolate

- Coffee

- Milk

- Bay leaves. 

- Butterfly/moth wings

- Rose petals, daisies, plumeria flowers. 

- Cinnamon. 

- Amethyst. 

- A piece of quartz.

- Raisins. 

- Treating the dead (animals, people) with respect. 

- A candle, that was intended to be black and white, like the goddess herself, but ended up being fully black due to the dye I used in the wax spreading. 

- A string of pearls.

My experience worshipping her: 

To me, Melinoe has a very strong, distinctive presence. When I first started worshipping it was a bit overwhelming. It’s a very protective, comforting presence, but it is also very clearly a powerful presence, and I never forget that she is a very powerful goddess, whom I do not want to disrespect or anger. I started out my worship of her by reading hymns and prayers. I was only able to find one historical hymn, her Orphic hymn, but I found a few prayers that other worshippers of her had written and shared, and I read them as well. I sometimes make up my own prayer, asking her to watch over the souls of people who have recently departed if someone I know has died. I have only really involved her in one spell. I was doing a protection spell for a friend, and a binding spell on their abusive parents, and got the strong sense that Melinoe wanted to be involved, so I worked with her on the spell. 

I also started being much more involved in working with my ancestors after I started worshipping her. I wasn’t even aware of the timing of that change until recently when I looked back through my journal. 

[antariies]

Visions of the Past: The Departing

Summary: The Commander never told Braham about their first death at the hands of Balthazar. Years later, he finds out in the worst way possible.

Characters: Pact Commander, Braham, Aurene, Balthazar

Notes: Commander’s POV (2nd-person); set before Jormag Rising; fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; 5.6k words, CW: blood, gore, character death, anxiety attack; the departing is and will always be one of my favorite instances and it sucks that we never got an emotional confrontation about it between braham and the commander. hope i did it justice. enjoy!

—

“Commander, can I use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” Braham asks one day, apropos of nothing, sliding into the seat across from you.

You slam your glass of water back down onto the table with a loud smack, screwing your eyes shut and leaning forward as you choke on your drink. After a few seconds of intense coughing and waving away Braham’s apologies, you finally clear your throat enough to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, squinting at him in confusion, “you want to… what?”

“Uh, use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Only with your permission, of course.”

“…Ah,” you nod slowly, letting the question fully sink in. You bring the glass of water to your lips again as you search for the right words. “That’s…”

A complete and total invasion of my privacy, your mind supplies helpfully.

“...a strange request,” you mutter into the cup. The only thing stopping you from shutting him down on the spot is the fact that it’s Braham. He wouldn’t ask this of you without a damn good reason. “And you want to see them because…?”

At this, Braham lights up, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what the lost Spirits said. About how I need to be a better leader if I’m going to beat Jormag, y’know? So I figured, since you’re the best leader I know-”

You can’t help the fond eye roll you give him.

“-if I got to experience some of your memories, then maybe I could learn from them,” he finishes, nodding once in determination.

“It’s definitely an unconventional way of learning,” you remark coolly, resting your chin on your hand as you level an even, challenging stare at him. You’ve cowed countless soldiers and politicians with this look alone, honed to terrifying perfection over the years.

Undaunted, Braham sets his jaw and meets your gaze dead on. “I know nothing can replace first-hand experience, but I think this would be a good way for me to practice without, uh,” his eyes flicker down for just a moment and he swallows hard. “Without the risk.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that, but you don’t miss the way he absently fiddles with something small and wooden in his free hand and-

Oh, you think, recognizing it and finally understanding. Oh.

It’s been months, but the memory of your first day in Bjora Marches stays fresh in your mind.

It had been freezing cold in the barracks of Jora’s Keep when you and Braham had gotten locked in, but the ice that froze in your veins when you watched him stumble upon the mangled body of his former guildmate was colder still.

“Alva,” he’d whispered, stricken with grief as he sank to his knees beside her body.

“I’m sorry, Braham.” The words sat like ash on your tongue, tasting the same as the first time you had ever offered your condolences and every time after that. You never really got used to it.

“Garm… used to rest his head in her lap.” Braham had pulled her head into his lap then, smoothing her hair out of her face with the utmost care. You turned away to give him as much privacy you could, but the dead silence in the barracks meant you heard every hitched breath and muttered prayer to the Spirits. When he returned to your side after a few minutes, he was clutching a small wooden figurine.

“It’s Wolf,” he explained softly when he caught you looking, “Alva made one for each of us, but I gave mine back when I left, I… I had no idea she’d kept it all this time…”

.

.

.

He carries it everywhere now: a constant, physical reminder of his failures as a leader and as a friend.

You know the feeling all too well.

Unbidden, an acrid tidal wave of bitter jealousy swells up inside you. It’s not fair. You never had the chance to practice leadership because you were thrust into your rank, your title, in the middle of a war. You had no one to guide you. Every lesson you learned was written in blood and people paid for your mistakes with their lives.

The wave reaches a roaring apex, then swiftly crashes and breaks against the rocks of your guilt and better judgement.

It’s not his fault, you tell yourself, that you were given the short end of the stick. If you had had the opportunity to practice, to learn from someone else’s mistakes without risking the lives of anyone under your command, wouldn’t you have taken it too?

Of course, you think, picturing the Pact Memorial that still stands in Caer Aval to this day, of course I would have.

“Of course,” you say, gaze and voice gentle, “I think that’s a great idea, Braham.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting- wait, what? Really?” He stares at you incredulously, the beginnings of a disbelieving grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I honestly didn’t think you would say yes so-”

“Well, now that you mention it,” you start mildly, before stifling a snort and shaking your head in amusement as he scrambles to retract his words. “Yes, Braham, I’m sure. C’mon, let’s go before I actually start having second thoughts.”

As he helps you clean up the remains of your lunch, you can’t stop your mind from dredging up every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the past eight years. You shut your eyes in a fruitless attempt at blocking out the memories, a long-suffering sigh trapped in your lungs.

It’s okay, you reassure yourself, you’ll be in control of the memories you show him. What could go wrong?

.

.

.

“Hey, Aurene- oh. She’s not here.” Braham says, stopping at the entrance of Aurene’s lair.

You walk past him, a smile stretching across your face as you look around the room. It teems with plant life. Curtains of ivy hang from the tops of the room’s arches while giant Maguuma lilies and dozens of other flowers grow out of cracks in the floor, reaching toward the sunbeams that stream in from the open skylight. Clusters of Aurene’s iridescent Brand crystals cover the walls, filling in the holes left by years of neglect.

In the middle of the room, the Scrying Pool gives off a faint light of its own, its waters swirling lazily as you approach. The spot where Aurene normally sits is vacant, though, just like Braham said. Closing your eyes, you reach out to the bond you share with her. It hums at the edge of your consciousness, quiet and comfortable when you’re not actively talking to her. You give the slightest tug.

‘Just checking in. Where are you?’

A few moments later, a familiar sight flashes in your mind. A vast stormy sky, filled with blue-tinted thunderclouds and stretching as far as the eye can see. The Mists.

Then, Aurene’s voice in your head, clear as day. ‘Trying to figure out what Jormag is up to. So far… I still have no idea.’

“Are you talking to Aurene?” Braham asks. You nod. “Tell her I said hi!”

‘Braham says hi.’ you relay.

‘Hello, Braham!’

‘Alright, we’ll let you get back to it.’ You smile inwardly, a rush of affection warming your chest. ‘Be safe. I love you.’

‘Love you too, Champion.’ Aurene croons happily in your head.

“Aurene says hello,” you say, opening your eyes. “She’s keeping an eye out for Jormag in the Mists right now. I don’t think she’ll be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Braham says, slight disappointment coloring his tone, “Does that mean we can’t use the pool?”

“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t hurt to try, though,” you answer, walking over to it. Kneeling as close to the edge as you dare, you lean over to look into the waters. Your reflection wobbles with every ripple from the pool’s constant, self-sustained swirling and you study your distorted face until you catch some movement above your mirrored shoulder that doesn’t seem to be from the pool.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn lightly, tossing a flat, unimpressed glare over your own shoulder.

Braham, to his credit, looks sorry for maybe half a second before grinning in a way that is decidedly far from it. Still, he concedes and backs away from you with his hands slightly up in surrender. “Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I would never,” you lie, turning back to the pool so he doesn’t see your smile. You make a note to push him into it at the first chance you get. “I’ve used the Scrying Pool a few times now and I can tell you that it’s way easier to view your own memories rather than someone else’s. Feels different too.”

When you first used the Scrying Pool to view Ryland’s memories, it wasn’t anything like Kas’ glamour during the All-Legion Rally. You weren’t just wearing his face and spectating from inside his head, you were Ryland. You felt everything, including his thoughts and his emotions, as if they were your own. It had felt so real that after waking up, it took a few seconds for you to realize that you weren’t him. Aurene had to calm you down as you scrambled around for a flamesaw that was never yours and shouted for a warband you were never a part of.

You can only imagine the state you would have woken up in if you had overstayed your welcome in Ryland’s memories.

It was different with yours, though. Those were easier to fall into, like slipping into a dream, and you always woke up from those with complete clarity.

Speaking of your own memories…

“I think I know the perfect one to start with,” you say, dipping a hand into the pool and focusing on a memory you’ve already used it for. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to access a memory without Aurene here, never mind control it. You don’t even know if two people can go in together, or whose body Braham would end up in. So you start off easy. Something you both remember. The leather of Braham’s armor creaks as he settles down next to you and does the same. He watches on in awed silence as the water glows brighter, swirling faster and faster until a small whirlpool forms in the center and pulls at the lily pads closest to it.

A familiar darkness crowds the edge of your vision and you let yourself fall backwards into the memory.

.

.

.

It’s not hard to spot Braham when his blood-red hair contrasts so starkly against the bright, white snow that covers the land and comes down heavy from the sky.

That, and he’s also waving at you from where he stands outside the gates of Cragstead.

“Hey!” he greets once you’re in earshot, shouting over the wind, “Hey, thanks for coming.”

You glance around. “Just us, huh?”

Braham grimaces. “You heard what Brimstone and Whitebear said. I tried sending out notices too, but…” he shakes his head, determination hardening his features. “Nevermind that, we have to go. My friends are in there.”

Turning your eyes upwards, you catch sight of billowing plumes of dark smoke as they start to pour into the sky. A strong gust brings the stench downwind and both you and Braham wrinkle your noses in distaste at the same time.

“No time to waste,” you nod. “Let’s go.”

You tighten your grip on your weapons and follow closely behind Braham as he leads you through the driving snow to the heart of Cragstead, cutting a path through the strange alliance of Flame legion and dredge along the way.

This is an evacuation mission, first and foremost, you remind yourself. Your gaze sweeps over the empty lodges and homesteads, searching for people. It’s not so different from the evacuation missions you used to do with your order when Zhaitan was still alive and a threat, its Risen minions encroaching further and further into the homes of Tyria’s minor races.

You find the villagers soon enough, all rounded up into small groups in the center of the town and trapped inside shimmering domes of fire magic. An equal number of charr and dredge guard each dome, their mechanical weapons whirring and spitting the occasional flame.

Braham growls at the sight and hefts his mace, rolling his shoulders in anticipation.

“Wait,” you caution, throwing an arm out to stop him from charging in. “We can’t just rush in. We’re way outnumbered.”

“We took care of those other guys just fine,” he argues.

“Those were just stragglers we picked off,” you gesture at the domes scattered around. “Here? There’s a dozen of them and only two of us. We can’t take them all in an open fight-”

Braham makes a frustrated noise and you hold up your hand.

“-which is why we switch tactics,” you finish, flashing a sharp grin at him. “They haven’t noticed us yet. Here’s the plan.”

The thing is, you’re no stranger to being outnumbered. Your entire time in Orr was spent leading handfuls of people on high risk, high reward missions, after all. It was kind of your specialty.

So it’s with practiced ease and calm authority that you explain your plan now, laying out a classic divide-and-conquer strategy that’s gotten you and your small squads through countless skirmishes against all odds.

It’s a flawless ambush, all things considered.

You and Braham hit them hard and quick, fighting in tandem as you push the offensive and give them no time to react or warn their allies before you cut them down. And with the help of his protective guardian magic, you two manage to free everyone without a single casualty.

“Where are the others?” Braham asks immediately as he helps an older man to his feet.

Despite his clearly injured arm, the man pulls him into a quick hug before answering. “They were chased up the mountain, to the shrine. I wasn’t- I wasn’t fast enough…”

“It’s okay, Haslo, I’ll go. Will you be-”

“We’ll be fine, thanks to you.” Haslo claps him on the back. “You and your friend be careful!”

When Braham looks over at you, you nod. Of course I’m coming with you.

The trip up to the shrine is shorter than you expected, but you think that might have something to do with the lack of flaming charr or dredge along the way. That only puts you more on edge and you ready your weapons, wary.

You don’t hesitate for a second at the entrance of the cave, charging in to catch the massive Flame legion charr and his grunts off guard. You’ve only known Braham for a few days and fought alongside him for less, but you two fall into a steady rhythm almost instantly, barely having to exchange words. You make quick work of the goons, letting him take care of the hulking charr. Braham doesn’t even let him get a taunt out, stunning him with a shield bash before swinging his mace into the charr’s snout with a brutal, deadly uppercut, spraying blood across the cavern walls.

With the threat taken care of for the time being, you and Braham free the rest of the villagers and escort them down the mountain, dispatching any stray Flame legion or dredge who tried to escape in all the chaos. While there weren’t any casualties, fortunately, there are still plenty injured, so while he talks to some of the other villagers, you help tend to the wounded as best you can. They have a long walk to Hoelbrak ahead of them, and you don’t envy them the trip.

You’re tying off a bandage when you hear him call your name.

“There you are,” he says, stopping in front of you. “Hey, thanks for everything. Really, I mean, I don’t know if things would’ve turned out as well as they did if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, tilting your head at him. “What are you going to do now?”

“After we get everyone to Hoelbrak, I’m gonna find out where all these Flame legion and dredge are holed up so we can track them down.” He pauses, then rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Uh, that is, if you still wanna come along…?”

You smile and cross your arms. “Guess I’ll see you soon, then?”

The pleased grin Braham gives you is warmer than any hearth and twice as bright.

“See you soon!”

.

.

.

“Oh no,” Braham mutters, the first thing you hear as you blink away the last of the memory. “Oh, Spirits, noooo.”

“Something wrong?” you ask, keeping your voice light even as you eye him up and down in concern. It was his first time using the Scrying Pool, after all. Had it affected him differently?

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, I just… I just can’t believe I used to wear my hair like that.”

You keep a straight face for an admirable three whole seconds before bursting into snickers. When Braham groans and buries his face in his hands, you only laugh harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, smiling, “I thought it suited you.”

He glowers at you. “You’re just saying that.”

You make a non-committal noise and wiggle your hand in a “so-so” gesture. He groans again, falling backwards onto the floor.

“That was really cool,” he says after a while, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. “Being in your head, I mean. I felt so… in control the whole time. Like I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Leaning backwards on your hands, you tip your head back and close your eyes. “You were impatient—well, you still kind of are—but you handled yourself better than some soldiers twice your age. And you’ve only gotten better since then. Give yourself a little more credit, Braham.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him flush at the praise, sitting up abruptly.

“Thanks,” he coughs into his fist, fighting a grin. “So, uh, any more memories you feel like sharing?”

You hum. “Several, actually. Ready to go again?”

.

.

.

You, grabbing the handles of a cannon with both hands and holding on for dear life as The Glory of Tyria lurches to the side, sending Destiny’s Edge, Pact soldiers, and Risen alike sprawling flat on the deck. When the airship finally rights itself, you waste no time, bracing your shoulder against the cannon and shoving hard until you have Zhaitan directly in its sights. The Elder Dragon is on the verge of death, pieces of its own body sloughing off itself as it clings desperately to the side of the tower. You take a deep, steadying breath and fire.

You, the only thing standing in between a crowd of fleeing civilians and a swarm of cutthroat Aetherblade pirates as they drop down from their airships. Lion’s Arch can be rebuilt, but lives can’t be replaced. You do a quick headcount, zero in on the weakest-looking one, and leap into the fray.

You, tracking down your teammates one by one as you tear through the dark, vine-twisted labyrinth under the Silverwastes, an undying behemoth of a Mordrem wolf hot on your heels. You lead them all safely through the maze, driven by the fierce desire to protect your friends. You will not lose anyone today.

You, the legendary Pact Commander, at your best.

After a few back-to-back trips down memory lane, you both decided to take a short break. For his part, Braham had opted to swing his legs over the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. When he asked whether or not it was okay to do so, you just shrugged and told him you had already cannonballed into the water before. Multiple times.

“How are you feeling? No headaches or anything?” you ask after a few minutes of rest.

“Nope. I do feel pretty commander-y, though.”

You snort. “Commander-y?”

“Mhm. I’ve been in your head too long. Any second now, I’m gonna start spouting a bunch of your expert advice.” Braham clears his throat and puts on an exaggerated voice that you swear sounds nothing like you. “‘Remember, it doesn’t matter how long the hog’s been dead. It doesn’t matter that it’s been sitting in a toxic cloud. You can always try to eat it.’”

You roll your eyes and swipe your hand through the water, splashing him. “Okay, that’s it, I’m revoking your pool privileges. We’re done here.” You pause, expression turning thoughtful. “Actually, I think we are done here. I don’t think I have any more memories to show you. None that would help, anyway.”

“Hmm, what about your time in Elona? I wasn’t there for that.”

“Uh, you definitely were,” you say, shooting a quizzical smile at him. “Or do you not remember storming Joko’s palace with me?”

“No, no,” Braham laughs, waving dismissively, “I meant before that. I wasn’t there for… ugh, what’s his name again? Balthazar?”

For a brief, blissful moment, you only recall the part where you killed him.

Then your free hand flies to your chest on instinct, ghosting over a wound that no longer exists.

“What about him?” you ask, a little louder than necessary. You cringe inwardly, but Braham doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, everyone told me you somehow took control of Joko’s Awakened army and got them to fight on your side,” he shakes his head, chuckling. “I didn’t believe them at first, but that sounds exactly like something only you could pull off.”

You can hardly hear yourself over the frenetic pounding of your pulse in your ears. “Did they… tell you anything else?”

“Not really,” Braham frowns, finally turning to face you. “Why, is there- woah, hey, are you alright?”

You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Commander?” His voice spikes with worry.

Swallowing hard past the lump in your throat, you try again. Still nothing.

You’re so preoccupied with trying to force yourself to speak that you don’t even realize your other hand is still in the pool until you feel the tug of an old memory on your consciousness.

Ripping your hand out of the glowing water in a panic, you can only stare in horror as that does nothing to stop the ancient, powerful magic from pulling you helpless back into the dark.

.

.

.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It doesn’t.

You throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging a fireball as it blazes past your head. Ducking behind a crumbling pillar, you press your back up against the stone and try to catch your breath.

You’ve bought yourself some time, at least.

This is a fight you know you can’t win, but the walls of flames surrounding the spire prevent your escape, so your only hope is to keep Balthazar distracted until reinforcements arrive.

“Any second now,” you mutter, and you don’t know if you’re trying to reassure or convince yourself.

You grit your teeth as another wave of pain wracks your body. There’s a nasty gash in your side, larger and deeper than the rest of your cuts, and it oozes sluggishly, soaking your armor in blood.

It’s bearable for now, but you can’t afford to be slowed down.

“Are you hiding, Commander?” Balthazar sneers, “How pathetic.”

Your answer to that is to dart out from behind the pillar, launching a flurry of attacks along his flank and back. When he twists around to send a volley of fireballs your way, you just tuck yourself into a neat dodge-roll, avoiding them all with ease. If you wince and stumble on the landing, you pretend not to notice and hope he didn’t either.

“Aw, you missed!” you taunt, sounding way braver than you feel, “How pathetic!”

Balthazar’s face contorts in fury. “Enough!” he shouts, and both the flames surrounding him and the spire seem to burn hotter than ever.

Before you can react, the ground beneath your feet erupts in a column of fire and you scream as your world is engulfed in a white-hot inferno. When the initial blinding agony finally passes, you find yourself sprawled out on the ground, pointed stones digging into your back and your weapons flung too far out of your reach.

Get up.

You only manage to twitch your fingers.

Get up. Now.

Your throat burns raw. When you try to speak, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a pained whimper.

GET. UP. BEFORE BALTHAZAR-

You sense Aurene before you see her.

“Ah, the scion, finally come here to defend her champion.”

Finally…?

It clicks. Your heart stops.

Balthazar’s been toying with you this whole fucking time.

It’s impossible for you to form words, let alone make any sort of loud noise, so you try to warn Aurene through your shared bond instead, panic rising with every passing moment that she doesn’t respond.

‘GET AWAY,’ you practically roar at her, ‘TRAP. IT’S A TRAP. YOU’RE FLYING RIGHT INTO A TRAP, TURN AROUND, PLEASE-’

And Aurene roars right back at you. There are no words you can hear—you don’t think she’s old enough for that yet—but she can convey her feelings through the bond and right now she’s drowning out your desperate warnings with them. She refuses to abandon you. You are her guardian and her champion and she loves you and you promised over and over to protect her so she promised the same and weren’t you the one who taught her about loyalty in the first place?

It takes one self-sacrificing idiot to know one. You would laugh if you weren’t so fucking terrified of losing her.

Your vision swims and you only catch glimpses of Aurene’s skirmish. She’s a bright blue blur, swerving expertly in the air as she dodges fireballs and lets loose her devastating dragon breath every time Balthazar tries to swat her out of the sky. Snarling, he launches some sort of phantasmal chains at her and-

No.

No, no, no, nonono-

“Aurene!” you scream. The exertion sends you into a coughing fit, but you don’t care.

You’re crying now, too. You don’t care.

Balthazar is saying something, but you stopped listening to him ages ago. It’s a monumental effort just to crane your head towards Aurene, your vision clearing long enough to see her staring at you, eyes blown wide in fear as terror rolls off her in waves.

She tries to apologize and you rush to soothe her.

‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ you reassure, ‘you have nothing to be sorry for, I love you so much, it’s not your fault, never your fault.’

Maybe you’re projecting a little. Whatever.

You only stop when a giant metal boot steps squarely into your line of sight, blocking her from view. You glance up.

Balthazar towers over you, his giant, flaming greatsword hovering menacingly by his side.

The fear that lances through your gut is primal.

You can’t die yet. Not here. Not now.

He notices the way your wide eyes trace his sword and bares his teeth in a humorless grin. Oh, he’s enjoying this, relishing the power he has over you.

“I thought you would put up more of a fight, given your reputation,” Balthazar remarks casually, circling you. With a lazy wave of his hand, his sword floats over and suspends itself in midair right above your chest.

Your already labored breathing dissolves into short, shallow gasps.

You can’t die. You’re not ready.

He lets the sword hover for a few more seconds before grabbing the hilt with both hands, raising it higher over your body. His face twists with hate, eyes blazing molten gold as they bore hungry and vengeful into yours.

You don’t want to die.

The edge of the blade glints orange from an indifferent sunset.

Please.

There’s a sickening crunch as he swings it down hard into your chest, punching through your armor and sternum and crushing most of your ribcage in the process. Then the blade severs your spine and you lose all feeling in your lower body.

Distantly, you think you hear someone scream, high-pitched and anguished. Was that Aurene? Or Taimi? Maybe both.

Certainly not you, although you’d tried to. What remains of your lungs are filled with more blood than air at this point, and it pours out of your mouth when you open it.

I’m sorry, you think, but you can’t remember what you’re apologizing for. Or who you’re apologizing to.

You’re so tired of blood. Tired of pain. Tired of feeling.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It does.

.

.

.

The only reason you don’t wake up choking back a scream and clutching your chest like Braham does is because you’ve relived this in your nightmares far too many times for it to rip that kind of reaction out of you anymore. Still, it takes you longer than normal to push yourself into a sitting position and even longer for your pulse to even out. Fighting the urge to curl up and disappear from the world, you rush over to where Braham sits hyperventilating.

“Hey, Braham, hey, look at me, you’re okay, you’re okay. You’re here, you’re alive,” you reassure, and you’re surprised at how calm you sound. You work on getting him to match your breaths, counting out every inhale and exhale.

“Oh, Spirits,” he chokes out after his breathing steadies, his voice nearly cracking as tears prick in the corners of his eyes, “that was… how- h-how did you survive that?”

Your mouth shuts with an audible click. Biting your tongue, you look to the side, carefully avoiding eye contact.

You could lie.

Lie and tell him the airship made it just in time and the medics brought you back from the brink with a miracle. Another close call, but you pulled through like you always do. Spare him the pain, the grief. It’s been years, and there are more important things to worry about right now. It would save you both so much trouble.

“Commander?” he asks softly, earnestly.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I didn’t,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Deafening silence, for a beat.

Two.

Three.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Braham says eventually. When you finally bring yourself to look at him again, his brows are furrowed in confusion. He stares at you in concern, scrutinizing. “You’re… definitely still alive.”

“I sure am.” Neither of you miss the tired bitterness that bleeds into your sarcasm. You wince and sigh, running a hand over your face. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s a long story.”

And to this day, you still haven’t told anyone all the details. You’re not sure if you ever will.

“Who knows?” Braham asks.

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, Rytlock, Canach, and Kas were there when it happened. Taimi… overheard.” You don’t know which is worse: being the one to hear you die, or finding your body after the fact.

They’re not the only ones who know, but they’re the only ones who matter. Even then, you swore them all to secrecy.

“Taimi called me around that time,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “Did she…?”

Braham shakes his head. “She was crying too hard,” he says, speaking slowly as he focuses on remembering. “She said something about you, but she couldn’t get the words out. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, she just hung up on me. Then she called me back a day later to say it was nothing and to pretend it never happened.”

“Huh,” you say, because you can’t think of anything else.

“I always wondered what she was trying to tell me,” Braham smiles sadly at you. “Guess I know now.”

You swallow hard. “You’re… taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“I’m not the one who died,” he shrugs, even as his hand comes up to brush across his chest absentmindedly.

But you know how it felt, you think, How I felt.

The thought hangs in the air, unspoken.

“Are you okay?” Braham asks after a while.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, automatically, “I’m fine.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He looks pointedly down and you follow his gaze.

Your hands are shaking where they rest in your lap. Gritting your teeth, you clench them into fists. They don’t stop.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, more to yourself than anything. “I’m fine.”

The shaking travels up your arms until your shoulders are trembling as if under an invisible weight. This is so embarrassing, so humiliating. You’re pathetic. You-

You don’t resist when Braham pulls you into a warm embrace.

“It’s been years,” you mutter, blinking rapidly against the itchy heat behind your eyes. “I thought I’d be over it by now.”

“It always hits you when you least expect it,” Braham says quietly, “I’m sorry, Commander.”

The noise that comes out of you is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. You know he knows you hate pity, but this is the farthest thing from it. “When did you get so wise?” you tease.

“Learned it from you,” he says, voice tinged with pride, and now it’s your turn to flush. He squeezes you tightly once before letting you go. “Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” you say, and this time you mean it. You breathe in deep, feeling lighter than you have in ages. “I’m okay. Thank you, Braham.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grins, and promptly shoves you right into the Scrying Pool.

His boisterous laughter echoes off the walls and drowns out your indignant spluttering. When you pull yourself out of the pool, drenched and dripping water everywhere, he scrambles to his feet and breaks into a dead sprint down the hall.

You chase after him, smiling, and leave your memories behind you.

[lockefanfic]

White Silk

Parts One, Two, and Three of this series of oneshots.

-

There were only few moments in your life when you truly cared about the weather.

Once when your much-anticipated camping trip was spent inside your tents hiding from a torrential downpour. Another time when your apartment’s air conditioning broke down during an unprecedented heat wave. A final time when icy roads brought you close to you wrapping your car around a tree.

This was another one of those moments. Outside, what seemed like the storm of the century battered the building relentlessly, turning the day into a dark, stormy mess.

Inside, however, Lee Jieun somehow still managed to shine.

She was utterly beautiful - no, beautiful seemed inadequate to describe the sight. She stands with her back half turned to you, her perfect silhouette framed by the window. And while it is dark and stormy outside, she somehow still manages to glow, her very presence seeming to battle against the gloom that pervaded the rest of the day, seeming to defy it, seeming to tell it “No, your rain and clouds will not dim my brightness.”

She turns when you enter the room - and time slows to a crawl. It was like one of those moments in the movies when the female lead meets the male lead for the first time. As she turns her head, her hair, unstyled and seemingly also unbrushed but somehow still flawless, whips carelessly over her bare shoulder, almost as if in slow motion - a shampoo commercial come to life. 

Wrapped around her lithe, thin frame is a white silk dress. Made of the finest of materials and woven by the most talented of seamstresses, it is almost a work of art in and of itself - but without the young woman on whom it draped it is little more than a useless scrap of overpriced fabric. No, the woman made the dress, and not the other way around. It is she that makes the dress beautiful.

From the second you met her so many years ago you’d thought she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever met - but right now, as a bride on her wedding day, you knew she’d never been more beautiful. All women are beautiful - but on their wedding day they glow just a little brighter.

Jieun’s eyes meet yours. A glimpse of a surprised reaction - one she quickly hides. She opens her mouth to speak, and you expect some eloquent, powerful observation on the storm raging outside, and how it will not affect her spirits.

“I need some fucking alcohol,” she spits.

You smirk a little at her first words of the day to you. She looked like a princess, but sometimes she had the tongue of a sailor.

“Sorry,” you answer as you step towards her, “there’s no bar on the premises, unfortunately, although I hear the reception will have one. Cash bar, though, so best hit up an ATM before arriving.”

Jieun sighs and returns her attention to staring out the window. You feel the room get a little dimmer as she takes her attention away from you.

“Of course not. Nothing today can go right, apparently.”

You stand beside her, staring out the same window at the angry grey skies and the seemingly endless torrential downpour.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says after a few shared seconds watching the raindrops trace random patterns on the glass.

“You’re not exactly kicking me out.”

Jieun scoffs. “Well everything else today is going horribly wrong so yeah, why the hell not have you show up?”

“What else is going wrong, exactly?”

“The photographer came down with a cold, so the best we can muster is my cousin and his fucking iPhone. The hair and makeup artist I hired is stuck in traffic on the other side of the city and probably won’t make it here on time, which is why I currently look like a fucking college student on the wrong end of a weed bender. The florist thought the wedding was tomorrow, so the only flowers we have are those sad looking almost-dead bouquets from the fucking gas station. Oh, and the reception hall had a goddamn double booking and neglected to tell us that the banquet hall won’t be available until 10pm, once the fucking high school math olympics has finished its awards ceremony!”

You frown. There wasn’t really much you could do to ameliorate the situation.

“Clusterfuck and a half,” you state.

“Clusterfuck and three quarters,” she counters, “coming real close to two full clusterfucks. Compared to all the bullshit that’s already gone down today, yeah, fuck it, you may as well be here, even when you very clearly shouldn’t be. I’m getting married today, if you didn’t notice.”

You glance over to her for the first time, and even though she is currently wearing a frown on her cute little features, you are nonetheless still struck by her beauty. Such a cheesy thing to admit to - being awestruck by a woman. It was something that surely only happened in books and movies and on Netflix; surely in real life no woman could ever be so beautiful as to render a man temporarily physically paralyzed.

But Lee Jieun had a way of doing that to you. She did it when she walked into the busy downtown Korean barbeque place that your mutual friend had dragged her to on that fateful day so many years ago. She did it when she just so happened to sit next to you, and again when she reached out her slim, pale hand and introduced herself with a cute handshake and a blinding smile. 

And she did it every single day you’d met her since. Today was no different, even if it was one of the most important days of her life.

“I overheard one of the bridesmaids saying you weren’t doing so well,” you say. “I had to make sure you were going to make it up the aisle.”

“Well I feel nauseous as fuck at the moment so I might make it up there only to barf all over the goddamn groom when I get to the altar.”

“What a lucky guy.”

“Damn straight. He gets to spend his entire life boning this hot piece,” she says with an exaggerated flourish of her hand over her body that was more sarcastic than serious, a deadpan frown on her face.

“I’m jealous,” you say.

Jieun buries her face in her hands, where she lets out a long sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t have a shot of soju in your jacket or something?”

“No,” you say. “I do have these, though.”

“I swear to god if you’re referring to your balls I’m gonna punch-”

When she lifts her head from her hands, she finds you with your arms wide open and the cheesiest of smiles on your face.

It begins slowly - just a slight crack of an upward tilt at the corners of her mouth, like a small ray of light piercing dark clouds. Eventually her soft pink lips and cute cheeks follow suit, and soon the metaphorical clouds part, her face surrendering to the reluctant smile and short chuckle that she allows to escape her mouth along with an adorable little snort.

She steps forward into your embrace, and you wrap your arms tightly around each other.

“You’ve always been there for me,” she says, her words muffled by your chest.

“I always will be.”

“Even when I’m married?”

“Especially when you’re married. Married guys can be dicks.”

Jieun chuckles again, and the soft vibration of her laugh against your chest makes your heart sing. She presses herself closer against you, as though she were fleeing from the accumulating problems of the day and had just found a hiding spot in your arms.

“How much time do I have?” she asks, barely audible.

“About an hour or so, I’d say,” you reply. Only a few of the guests had arrived and the groomsmen and bridesmaids were occupied with putting out the myriad of little fires that came up during weddings. There was still some time to yourselves before the start of the show.

“Then kiss me,” she says, lifting her head from your chest.

Time slows again. Time moves slowly, almost incrementally slowly, as you bend your head to kiss her.

It felt so wrong, so dangerous - but it also felt so right, so perfect. You should not have been there, not on her wedding day, mere minutes before she was to walk down the aisle. You could have, and perhaps should have, been anywhere but here.

But Jieun had always had that hold over you. You didn’t think yourself whipped for any other woman in your life, but when Jieun called you answered - no questions asked. You hated yourself for it sometimes, hated that a woman could have such overwhelming control over you, could have you wrapped around her finger like she did. 

But one smile - and sometimes, one kiss - was all it took to remind you why you did it: you were in love with her.

The kiss deepens, becoming something more passionate, more needy. Tongues begin to explore familiar mouths and find their counterparts willing and ready to touch and taste. Hands tighten around torsos. Hips press against hips. The bride tries to find solace from a day of ruined plans in the kiss and embrace of a man that meant so much to her.

You are happy to leave it there - merely seeing her was already probably a mistake - but Jieun was never one to stop things she had started. She breaks the kiss and pulls at the back of your head until your mouth is on her neck, and you begin devouring the sweet, pale flesh there with your hungry lips and tongue. She cranes her neck up and back, offering up more of herself to you.

Her hands slip between your bodies to work at your belt, which she quickly undoes.

“Here..?” you manage to gasp in between kisses. She was taking your breath away, again, although this time for another reason.

“Here,” she snaps, as though she were surprised you would even dare to ask, “Everything else is going wrong. I need this now. I need you now. Fuck me like you always do. One last time.”

Before you could say anything further she has you out of your boxers, her slim fingers suddenly cold and chilly around your quickly hardening shaft. Soon she has you at full stiffness. It doesn’t take you long. It never did. Especially not now, given the circumstances. Given the knowledge that the hand wrapped around your shaft and pumping it up and down would soon have a shiny diamond ring on it for the rest of her life.

You groan into her neck as the pleasure she is conjuring inside your body begins to overtake your senses. You feel her cheeks move against the side of your face - a wicked smile on an angel’s lips.

You are content to let her have her way with you, but you are reminded of her request - to fuck her the way you always did. And when you fucked, you were the one in control. Her innocent, girl-next-door exterior belied the fact that she loved to be taken, loved to be called names and used - and you weren’t one to disappoint her, even today, on this most important of days. You hated yourself sometimes for how much control she had over you in your day-to-day life; but you relished the fact that in your most intimate moments the roles were very much reversed.

You bring your hands to her shoulders and turn her around until she is facing the wall. She lets out a gasp of surprise - one that turns into a low moan as you press yourself, and your stiff shaft, against her. She braces herself against the glass, her forearms and palms flat against it.

Your hands, still on her shoulders, trace the top edge of the perfect white dress wrapped around her like a second skin. When they reach the front of her dress, you grasp the top edge and pull downward.

Jieun gasps as you pull the dress down to expose her breasts, and you grin devilishly over her shoulder as you watch her reflection in the glass as her small, perfect round mounds bounce free from their silk prison. Before she can react further your hands are already on them, squeezing them none too gently, enjoying the feel of her body molding itself into your hands, her already stiffened nipples poking between your fingers.

“You gonna let me fuck you on your wedding day, Jieun?” you hiss into her ear.

“Fuck yes,” she hisses, her breath a mist upon the glass, “I want you to fuck me right fucking now.”. She reaches down, pulling her long, flowing skirt up to bunch it around her waist. It takes her a while - her skirt is so long - but soon the pale, perfect round cheeks of her pert little ass are laid bare, your cock pressing impatiently against her lower back. 

You smirk at the sight of her, the perfect little bride on her wedding day, now a wanton, needy little thing, begging for it, begging to be fucked in a dress that was supposed to symbolize her innocence with its pure color. She wasn’t even wearing underwear, as though she knew this would happen, was expecting to be fucked wearing this dress.

“Fuck me,” she snaps, as though every moment you kept her waiting was making her more and more upset. “Fuck me please. I’m so wet for you.”

“Such a slutty little bride,” you observe. ‘So wet and hot already, and I’ve barely touched you.” You pinch her nipples. She sighs. You grin at the sight of her in her pristine white dress, an angel engaged in an act that was not at all angelic.

“Fuck yes. I’m such a slut. Such a slutty little bride. Now fuck me!”

“You want to get fucked against this glass in your pretty little white wedding dress?”

“Mmmm!” Jieun gasps, every sound that leaves her throat dripping now with need, “Please, fuck me now. Fuck this bride’s tight little pussy until you cum in it.”

You let go of her breasts, but not before giving her stiff nubs one last pinch that elicits a sharp gasp from her throat. Your right hand drifts to your cock, you line up your tip with her entrance, and within moments you slip inside Lee Jieun’s body.

You’d had her plenty of times, but today is different - and you wonder if perhaps the circumstances and the sheer audacity of what you were doing somehow added to the way she felt around you. She was slick and hot and wet and so, so very tight. It almost drove you insane to be inside her. Judging by the way her fingers curled against the hard glass, seeking something to claw into as she is filled with your cock - Jieun felt the same.

“Fuck,” she hisses, the curse word leaving her mouth in a breathy sigh. You both take a moment to savor the sensations - hers of being filled, yours of her wet, hot body wrapping itself around your stiff, aching shaft.

You don’t waste any time. You had little to waste, nor did you have any desire to deny yourself the pleasure her body promised. When you withdraw your shaft from between her round cheeks to find it glistening with her juices, you quickly drive yourself back in - this time to the hilt.

Soon you are fucking Lee Jieun against the glass, her naked breasts pressed against it, stiff nipples crushed against the cold surface as she is taken roughly, your cock pumping in and out of her wet, slick pussy at a frantic pace. 

If she had problems with the liberties you were taking on her body she was not showing it. Her reactions told you much the opposite - that she loved each thrust into her needy pussy, loved feeling you piston in and out of her at the quick, hard pace you had set for yourselves.

“Oh my… oh my fucking god,” she hisses, her face pressed now against the glass, a soft mist forming on it with each hot breath that leaves her lips. “Fuck me, fuck me like this.”

You are almost afraid to look down, almost afraid to watch your cock pump in and out of her needy body - but you eventually tear your eyes from her pleasure-stricken face to glance down between your torsos.

Her juices are flowing freely, lathering your stiff shaft with a thick sheen of her slick, glistening  wetness. Her lips grip every inch of your shaft, parting softly to welcome it in with each thrust, grasping it tightly with each withdrawal as though not wanting to let it go. You reach down and squeeze her tight little ass with both hands, filling your hands with her cheeks, parting them slightly to give you a better view of each thrust of your cock into her slick, wet pussy.

“Oh… oh fuck!” she gasps as you reach a new depth, bottoming out your thrusts now as you fill her with every inch of you, filling the mewling young bride as deeply as you could with stiff cock. 

“Fucking take my cock, Jieun,” you snap, bringing your hand up to her chin to tilt it toward you. “Fucking take it.”

“Y-yes! Fuck me… I’m yours. I’m yours!”

The filth of her words, of her submission to you, would have been pleasurable any other time. But now, mere minutes from her marriage - it meant something more, something more perverse - and something more deliciously sinful.

You reach around her torso to grasp a round breast with your free hand, finding her stiff nipple and teasing it at first before pinching and twisting the sensitive bud. You turn her face toward you with the hand on her chin, wanting to watch as every thrust into her body twisted her small, adorable face with little spasms of pleasure. For a few long, delicious minutes you fuck the mewling, squirming young bride against the glass, the pleasure you both found in each others’ bodies far outweighing the filthy wickedness of your act.

“Is your husband going to fuck you like this every single day? Fuck your needy, slutty little pussy whenever he wants?”

“Y-yes!” she manages to gasp, her words interrupted by each thrust of your cock into her juicy pussy, “Yes… whenever… wherever… however he wants!”

“And you want my cum dripping down your legs while you walk down the aisle? While you get married?”

“Yes! Oh fuck please I want it, I want your cum inside me, I want it dripping out of my pussy oh please oh fuck, cum inside me oh fuck cum inside me please, fill my pussy, fill me with cum, fuck me, fuck me, oh, oh I’m cumming, oh--!”

You always dreaded Jieun’s orgasm during sex, because it was so powerful, so overwhelming -  not only for her, but for the both of you. And it usually meant that you came soon after.

Jieun turns into a mewling, quivering mess of flesh, held up against the glass only by your hands on her chin and breast - and the cock still pistoning in and out of her pulsating pussy. You fuck her through her orgasm even as you feel your own beckoning, concentrating on each thrust, pushing yourself as deep as you can inside the young bride before pulling out only far enough to thrust right back inside her.

The random pulsating of her slick pussy, the wordless cries of pleasure brought upon her by her orgasm, and the soft breast in your hand - it all combined to push you dangerously close to the edge. But the thought of it - of fucking this needy young woman mere moments before her wedding - and at her demand, no less - it pushed you right over it.

You push yourself as deep inside her as you can go before you finally allow your orgasm to overtake your senses. Your mind tunnels, becoming focused solely on your pulsating cock as it spurts hot, thick semen deep inside Jieun’s tightly gripping pussy. The bride gasps - a soft, lustful sound - with each rope of cum that splashes into her depths, each stream further adding to the mess you’d made inside her body.

You both spend a long minute trying your best to piece your realities back together after your respective orgasms have shattered it, both reduced to heavily breathing, barely standing masses of suddenly weak flesh. It was a quick little session - not more than a few minutes from her first kiss to your mutual orgasm - but it still left you both exhausted, chests heaving in an attempt to refill lungs drained of air.

You reach up, tilt her chin to yours once more, and you give her a kiss - one that was more affectionate than perhaps either of you were ready for, but one you find her returning willingly and passionately.

Slowly you draw your softening shaft out of her body, and Jieun tries her best to clean herself up and look presentable, doing her best to look as though she didn’t just have rough sex minutes before walking down the aisle.

There is a knock on the door. It opens just wide enough for the maid of honor to poke her head inside - and you are thankful that she didn’t decide to do so a few minutes earlier, lest she catch you fucking the bride against the glass. She gives you a quizzical look.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?” she asks.

“I think we’ve used up all our bad luck for today, Nayeon,” Jieun answers. “What’s a little more bullshit on top of the shit sundae that is our wedding plans?”

Nayeon frowns, confused by the bride’s nonchalance towards the day’s ruined plans. “Aish. Anyway, the makeup lady is here. And one of the groomsmen managed to track down a photographer. One of you should talk to him.”

“Thank you, Nayeon. We’ll just be a few minutes,” you reply.

The maid of honor gives you both a look before she closes the door behind her.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Jieun says.

“Me neither.”

“I’ll see you up there. You’re walking down that aisle first. Try not to trip.”

“Try not to drip.”

Jieun gives you a punch in the arm, but her hand lingers there for a moment, before sliding down and grasping your hand in hers.

“I love you,” she says.

“And I, you,” you reply. 

You kiss her, and the peck on the lips turns into a soft but passionate kiss. She gives one last look out the window and the cloudy, stormy weather that continued unabated outside, although it all seemed to matter a little less to the both of you.

“Let’s go get married,” she says, the smile on her lips all the sunshine you ever needed.

-

Author’s Note: Short but hopefully sweet. :) I had to sneak in an “I, you” (IU) reference in there somewhere lol.

So I felt kind of bad about the way Green Silk ended and wanted to have a similar twist but this time with a happy ending lol. Also lol at maid of honor Nayeon, I bet being IU’s maid of honor would be a dream come true for her haha.

[favoriteginger]

Empires Worldbuilding

The Empires brainrot is real lately, so here, have some worldbuilding that came to me when I was trying to make angst:

The Empires world is filled with a bunch of different types of nature spirits. These spirits tend to stay in certain areas and tend to do their own thing for the most part, but they are willing to help the people living in the world with certain things if it benefits them in some way. I don't really have any specific ideas for Joel, Pearl, Joey, and Gem, but I have ideas for the rest that I'll go through in some detail. Idk much for the jungle yet, and I'll have to see how Joey's series progresses, but the jungle is full of life, full of growth and death and rebirth, which is why spawn is there, why it still has the bones of an old civilization that is once again starting to be populated by people.

(this one is kinda iffy imo but) the ocean spirits are generally happy with the ocean as it is, but they also kinda desire the ability to change and grow and adapt. When Lizzie comes along and starts setting up the beginnings of her kingdom, the ocean spirits see the opportunity available. They can use the infrastructure that Lizzie has put together to grow and change, in return offering Lizzie citizens to fill her realm and warriors to protect it (the villagers, the axolotl golem, her axolotl knights).

I'm thinking that the spirits can also change people over time too, so as the ocean spirits get closer to Lizzie and help her expand her kingdom, she begins to take on some of the same appearance as her citizens, the ocean spirits sometimes deliberately helping it happen so she can more effectively rule her realm (axolotl Lizzie go brrr). The main spirit in the flower forest is the Overgrown (or maybe it's more a collection of spirits that exists and acts as one being). Katherine settles in the area and is called by the spring, a slightly lesser spirit, to protect the Overgrown and help it prosper. in return, she is able to use some of the bountiful life that springs from the Overgrown, using it to make her kingdom look more beautiful and to forge and maintain peace with the lands around her.

As time goes on and Katherine becomes more familiar with the overgrown, the animals and plants become almost attuned to her. She tends to have flowers and vines woven through her clothes and hair, and it isn't unusual to see her surrounded by various animals while tending to her lands. (I also want to incorporate some sort of faerie type lore into Katherine's area but I'm still working on that)

(warning for mentions of death in the next paragraph or two, for any who want to avoid it. nothing specific, and it's not any of the empires members)

(adapting some ideas a friend had here) The swamp doesn't really have any major spirits inhabiting it, and I'm still figuring out what the ones that do live there are like, but it is full of the spirits of the dead. All of these spirits died at different times and for different reasons, but they were all drawn to the swamp and reside there long after any trace of their previous homes is gone. These spirits don't want much, mainly just company and peace for as much of their eternal lives as possible. When Jimmy first settles in the swamp, it seems to be empty of any sentient life, but as time goes on he begins to see the ghostly forms of people long dead and he begins to be able to hear their voices. The first spirits he's able to fully see are a group of children playing in the water with the cod. As more and more spirits appear to him and he gets to know them, he starts working to help them. He does his best to stay on peaceful or friendly terms with the other kingdoms so his land and the people in it can live in peace.

As time goes on, Jimmy starts to look like part of the swamp in a way. It isn't unusual to see him covered in slime and seaweed after playing with the children in the water, and sometimes he has vines woven into his hair, or a crown made of sticks and mud atop his head.

The spirits of the desert are quiet and unmoving, happy to stay where they are and watch the world change around them. Pix is one of these spirits, though he took a more human form long ago because he was curious about the people living in his land and watching from afar wasn't enough. Now, the people he used to be a part of are long gone, and he's left alone in the remains of their once great empire, watching over the world as it changes and keeping vigil over the other empires, still occasionally venturing out to get a closer look at the surrounding lands, and bringing goods to help them when he does.

Now, Pix is also a dragon (because dragons are fun), and though he exists in his human form more often than not now, he still occasionally stretches his wings to fly over the desert, stirring up sandstorms in his wake. He still burrows under the sand sometimes, looking to nap in the warm dunes, and he still hoards copper and emerald ore, using them to ornament his buildings when he isn't able to ornament himself with the treasures as he once did.

(I gave Scott a bit of a corruption arc because they're fun I guess idk) The mountains tend to be populated by wind spirits, forever moving and forever free. Their main desire is for more land to fly over and explore, and they see a way to achieve that though Scott. They offer him the freedom of the wild mountaintops, away from people and connections that could tie him down and cause him pain. As time goes on and Scott starts to hear them more clearly, they begin to tell him that having too many connections would be bad. According to the spirits, alliances are good, since they would mean that other empires wouldn't encroach on the mountains, but actual close friendships would just trap Scott in obligations and promises and do nothing but hurt him down the road. They tell him to expand the borders of his empire and give himself more space to roam free and do as he wished, as well as provide a buffer between him and the people who could hurt him. (I'm thinking that 3rd life ties into this, and after loosing Jimmy in that series, he's afraid of being hurt in that way again, which is why he listens to the spirits)

As time goes on, Scott becomes more cold, both in personality and physically. He extends nothing more than basic pleasantries to the people around him, maintaining alliances but that's it. His skin grows paler and cold to the touch, and his hair grows lighter, starting to look more like frosted ice than the rich cyan it had been before. His fingers and ears also grow kinda blue at the tips and he finds he's sometimes able to manipulate the flurries of snow falling around him or ride the winds across his growing empire.

Fwhip settles in a plains biome and not long after, he comes across the spirits of the stone and darkness, who tempt him with glowing redstone and promise him all the riches held underground and the power that could come with them. Fwhip, having spent most of his recent time alone in a hardcore world, is maybe a tad bit paranoid, and takes these spirits up on their offer, thinking he can use the riches underground to build himself and his people a beautiful city, and to make armor and weapons and trade offers and alliances to protect himself. However, in agreeing to the deal, he gave the spirits a connection to work with and they began corrupting him, making him treasure the dark deepslate and shining redstone even more, convincing him that the heads he mounted around his base were his citizens and friends, that he had to expand his empire and gain more power, or it would all be taken from him. Over time, the corruption starts to take a physical form, and not just in the land that grows darker as redstone-laced spires emerge from the ground, deepslate making it's way through the grass. Fwhip's eyes begin to take on a red tinge, glowing slightly like the redstone he cherishes so much, and his skin starts to appear grey in patches, matching the darkstone consuming his land.

So yeah, worldbuilding

Feel free to add on or whatever if you want I guess