#isle of guiding light

[the-noted-collector]

Isle of the Guiding Lights/The Fisher-Fisher Zee Beast

Inspired by @violant_apologists's post, here's some world building I've done with the setting of the Neath and the Unterzee.

It's got body horror stuff so. Under a readmore. Also deals in imposter/mimic monsters, for anyone who might be freaked out by those.

The Isle of the Guiding Lights/Savior's Cove

A isle often glowing alone on the waves, a last hope for many ships who find themselves lost on the Eastern Zee. No matter which direction you approach, it always seems like there's a large chapel dominating the small fishing town where the zailors are conveniently able to dock. No, no, their ships aren't missing, they're simply in for repairs. Now, aren't you all hungry? We insist you stay a few days, surely you could use the rest. We'll gather supplies for you all in the meantime. No, no, don't worry about it. We're glad to prove.

There is spare room in the chapel for the zailors. Of course there is! We would hate for the guests to be left out in the cold and danger of the turning time of the isle. Simply head down the stairs, there are plenty of spare beds. Don't ask where any of the tenders have gone. It will not go well for you.

Tomorrow, there will be a feast. Enough food for everyone, and aren't you simply starving? Certainly sating yourself matters more then questioning where the locals have gotten the lovely portions of crab and pork from. The bread is still warm from the oven. The fruits are a delight, juicy and sweet. The juices of the meal drip down onto your plate. The locals insist not to waste it, they even have a couple of extra buns with each meal to lap everything up. You ignore how some of their tips clearly apply to thicker liquids then the meal produces. After all, it's food. It's good.

Later, you learn the ship has been damaged. Bad luck, they say, that the beasts got to it. There's questions of a explanation. The locals avoid answering for a while, but it's at the banquet of lunch that they decide to share that dangerous beasts surround the isle. Odd things that you've never heard of. The locals suspect they nest deeper in the isle-there's a underground river leading to a lake that's otherwise landlocked-but it's too dangerous to them to go to it. They don't know how to kill the things, so they do their best to simply keep away. They don't often attack larger ships, you see, so they had assumed yours would be safe. Quite unfortunate that they were wrong.

It's later that you realize how...odd the hosts look. Their accents is what ticks it, first. It's nothing you recognize. It sounds like they learned the language second hand, at the very least. Certain words fail to carry. Their clothes, perhaps, are the next most obvious. They have clothes from this time, make no mistake, but they don't quite wear them correctly. Their coats are crooked, their cravats are tied in zailor knots rather then anything more proper. It covers their necks quite well. What it doesn't cover are the glints that shine off their cheeks in the light at dinner that night. Nor does it hide the hunger you can see in their eyes. A few have gone missing. The hosts do not comment on this.

The repairs and supplies continue to get delayed over the next few days, with various excuses from your hosts. Meanwhile, your numbers continue to shrink, due to 'the beasts' supposedly at the island's center. You have other ideas. You've heard your bunkmate screaming at night from nightmares. They call the hosts monsters. They had been one of the first to vanish, and when they first returned you simply thought them mad. The hosts said that they just needed to recover, have some rest. They've refused to be alone since. You're beginning to believe that perhaps they really did see something. And with your hosts continuing to keep their secrets, you make a plan.

That night, after dinner-fish filets so thin as to see through, yet with enough juices to taste as good as any steak-you grab your gun and go upstairs. You don't know where your hosts stay, nor what they do at night. You do know what you plan to do. You go to your ship. It has holes in the sides, torn open by whatever is in the waters. You do not see any of your oh-so-benevolent hosts here, so you decide to go inside. The ship's cargo has been entirely taken, and the place appears gutted. If you weren't angry about your situation before, you're furious now. You march back up and off the ship-at least, before you are stopped on the dock by a local. They wear the same, placid smile as they ask what you're doing. You respond by trying to shove your way past.

The key word is, try.

The local fixes you with a stare as they easily stop you. Even as you pull out your gun, they stay entirely still. You're stopped from firing by a noise from the zee behind you. Before you can process what it could be, you find yourself falling off the dock, straight into the water.

You aren't attacked, not immediately. Not before seeing the creature, at least. A deceptively humaniod face meets your own. The skin is tinted with green and peligin, and the eyes aren't dissimilar to a Drownie's. What isn't, however, are the set of razor sharp teeth that try to bite into your shoulder. You hardly swim out of the way in time. The spikes erupting from the creature's spine cause you a nasty cut on the cheek as you try to go over and catch it's neck. And that isn't the only thing that catches you by surprise, as you fail to see legs on it, instead getting a tail coiled around you, holding on. The pain is only added to by the feeling of zee water flooding into your lungs, your breath having long since left you.

The last thing you see, as it begins to swim away, is one of your hosts diving into a water. They transform before your eyes into a larger one of your current captor. There's a light, bright and enticing, on the end of a lure coming from it's forehead. Your world goes black as your captor shifts you to into it's arms, and starts to swim towards that light. Like a moth to the flame.

Actual lore time;

• The Isle of the Guiding Light is always found in the Eastern Zee, even if the exact position changes with the currents. It is always far away from any other land.

• The isle hosts a custom zee beast I've made, called the Fisher-Fisher!

• There is only one way for a Fisher-Fisher to be made; infection of a human. All current Fisher-Fisher folk are former zailors from most of the former cities, and some other places in the Neath.

• The Fisher-Fishers have two (possibly more, if I make more) varients; smaller, less flexible hunters and larger lures. The hunters are often 10-11 feet in length, and stay in the water almost consistently after transformation. They are able to shift to a more humaniod appearance, to a extent. But it's never enough to look human enough to approach, or even walk on land. So most don't bother to waste the energy on trying. The lures, on the other hand, can get much larger, roughly 23-24 feet long. They also have a lure of light on their foreheads, similar to a anglerfish's. They also have the ability to infect humans. They maintain fake fishing towns on the isle, often with light towers or chapels to lure in lost ships.

• The Fisher-Fishers often eat the food they serve to people. As of now I'm undecided on how they get the stuff. Working idea is that they loot the ships in the hopes of supplies. Also, likely hunting other beasts for most day-to-day food. They also eat people when they can. It's sacred to them.

• The chapels are real. They do function. They're to Salt.

• Half-infected individuals do exist. When the process is either interrupted or fails to produce, hybrids are made. In the latter case, they are often killed. In the former, they often escape and run inland whenever they end up. Most do not go back over the water. There is a exception.

[empiireans]

yet another ANOTHER brief assortment of sketches from the past week

ty and have a blessed day/night

rip

[checkadii]

mfs do anything but finish their wips . like startign another, for example

[wi11owbird]

made a little comic <3 season of passage appreciation post, the evers

[leaf-in-a-flower-garden]

Daleth has grey-scale colour blindness but no one has ever noticed BC anytime he said the wrong colour they'd just assume he was bad with colours or something.

[wanderingskychild]

Hello! Hoped everybody had a wonderful Christmas🎄!

Anyway, The Last Revival Quest. Let’s see who this is.

Oh My God It’s Passage Guide! YES YES YES 😁!

Sorry, it’s just I felt pretty close to the Season of Passage spirits & the guide. I headcannoned I was the guide’s assistant in teaching the others during the season (something I admittedly to on previous posts if you’re interested😏).

It’s fantastic to see them again! Bring their mask-making talents along for the stay.

[angrybatgaming]

Long time no upload. (Probably hasn't been that long, but DON'T CARE.)

Selfie mode is fun! I need to take selfies with other friends.

Moments Guide being silly. (I SHOULD HAVE USED THE CAMERA. IT WOULD LOOK WAY BETTER.)

Adding Nightbird to my list of Pets I Want in Sky. Love how it looks kinda like a cockatoo.

I kinda wanted the pants, but decided against it. I'll get them next time. (Hopefully.)

So my friend and I found a way to skip the Dawn Elder at night and saw that neat mark in the background instead of Eden. Clearly were the first to discover this, but it just looks neat. New hangout spot! Perfect for bonfire props/spells.

I don't see how this bird is "shy", as it flew up to me and my friends a few times. Especially when we spammed the Nightbird Call. It's so cute! And makes me think of my bird, Barry. I'm calling it Barry.

To do the night flight, change the time in Isle of Dawn to night time via Season of Passage. Then you fly up to the Rainbow Bridge (ask a friend who knows about it to take you there if you don't know where that is) and just fly over the Elder temple. But don't go to Daylight Prairie, as it will switch back to daytime.

Featuring @syares and a friend who does not have a Tumblr.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

commonly confused words part 2

[raurquiz]

#HappyBirthday @elizabethhannahdennehy #elizabethdennehy #actress #shelby #startrek #thenextgeneration #StarTrekPicard #GuidingLight #Charmed #withoutatrace #clearandpresentdanger #gattaca #soldier #reddragon #thelastmanonplanetearth #murdershwrote #bostonlegal #RizzoliandIsles #startrek57 @startrek @startrekonpplus

[stayevildarling]

May I please request Agatha x reader where reader was kicked out of her family for being a witch. She ended up on the streets, and Agatha finds her cold and alone. She takes reader in originally to steal her powers under the guides of training her, only for Agatha to actually fall for her?

Agatha Harkness x Reader- Dangerous together

A/N: Honestly, I was considering to make multiple parts of this, angst, smut, hurt and comfort. But I settled for a slightly longer fic. I hope this does your request justice 🫶🏻

tw/tags: mention of toxic family members, mention of abandonment, mention of power play, slight nfsw mentions (no smut), hurt, angst, comfort/fluff

word count: 5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The night is freezing, the wind feeling like a thousand icy knives as you try and wrap your thin coat closer. The city had become so cruel to you that you ended up walking aimlessly for hours, passing some landscape and woods before making it to the next town, so lost in your thoughts you miss the sign that reads Westview.

„Dirty witch“ the voices of your so called family linger on your mind as they had kicked you out earlier in the day, the arguments growing more intense. „You are a disgrace to this family“ they said, disgust evident in their voices. All you manage to do is shiver in the dark alleyways, the words echoing in your mind and growing louder in the cold silence.

You had always been somewhat of an outcast, your emotions often bubbling over and causing strange things to happen around you. None of your friends and family noticed during your childhood or teenage years, your powers only seeming to increase and become obvious a few years back. Suddenly candles turned into big flames around you, lights began flickering and furniture would begin moving whenever you would be angry, upset or hurt. You knew they would eventually kick you out, the people never feeling like family either way and only homing you. And now you are on your own, the only belongings the very clothes on your body.

It doesn't take long until you feel a presence behind you, your magic alerting you and causing the thoughts and flashbacks to stop for a moment. You can feel a shiver down your spine, someone watching, observing you. As you turn around you notice the frame of a woman stepping into the dim light of the streetlamp, her eyes gleaming in the dark. She‘s wearing some dark clothing, a confident smirk on her lips, causing you to feel a little uneasy.

„Now, what‘s a poor little thing like you doing out here all alone?'' she asks, her voice smooth, laced with a dark amusement. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stand a little taller. „None of your business“ you mumble, though the shiver in your voice due to the cold and exhaustion betrays you. She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. „Oh but I think it is“ she replies, taking a few graceful steps closer to ypu. Her eyes never leave yours, and for a moment you feel caught, unable to look away.

„A witch should know better than to be wandering around like this. Especially.. when she could be… useful“ your eyebrows furrow, confused as to how she knows you are a witch. „How do you.. know?“ you ask quietly before she chuckles lowly. „Oh sweetie, I can spot a fellow witch when I see one“ she explains and you suddenly feel a little more at ease, realizing you two are both witches. A flicker of interest sparks in her gaze and something about the way she looks at you, almost predatory, if you could think clearly, makes your pulse quicken.

You take a shaky breath, the chill settling deep in your bones as she continues warching you with her piercing gaze. Despite every warning bell going off in your mind, a flicker of something sparks inside you, remembering her words. „Useful how?“ you question. She tilts her head, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips, as though she is savoring your curiosity. „Come with me. I‘ll teach you how to control that power of yours. Something tells me“ she leans closer, her voice lowering „It‘s the reason you‘re in this mess, isn‘t it?“

You shift, the weight of her words sinking in, she was right of course. It was your power, clumsy and chaotic and dangerous, that made everyone you cared about turn their backs on you. They saw you as a threat, something to fear and discard. And the realisation causes your heart to ache in that way it had all day, some tears pricking at your eyes. But here is this woman, offering you guidance and help, a chance to be something more.

„Why would you help me?“ you ask, your voice wavering. She seems so sure of herself, so far from the helplessness you feel in this moment. „What‘s in it for you?“ you question. She chuckles softly, the sound of her voice brushing over your skin. „Let‘s just say I have a knack for.. finding potential in the most unexpected of places“. She offers her hand to you, her gaze softening just a little. „My name is Agatha, what do you say?“

You look at her hand, then back at her face, searching for any hint of a lie. And maybe it‘s foolish, reckless even but something in her eyes feels safe. Slowly, you reach out, feeling her warm fingers close around your own. The insant her skin touches yours, a shiver runs through you, the hum of power in the air between you both. „Oh dear, you are freezing, come on“ she invites and you follow the strange woman blindly, not caring about the consequences of your recklessness, yet.

Agatha‘s grip around your hand is firm, guiding you with an ease that almost seems natural, as if she had been waiting for this moment. She leads you through the quiet town, some alleys, past closed storefronts until she reaches her home. With a quick flick of her wrist, the door creaks open, revealing her dimly lit home, a cozy living room filled with the faint scent of herbs and wax.

„Make yourself at home“ she says, stepping into a room and pointing at the large sofa. The room feels alive somehow, brimming with a strange energy that you had never felt before. „Help yourself to one of the blankets, I‘m gonna make you some tea“ she offers and you reluctantly take a seat, wrapping your legs around a blanket and instantly feeling warmer. „Here you go sweetie“ she offers a few minutes later and you take the warm mug into your hands, instantly wrapping your hands around it and soaking in the warmth.

You watch as she takes a seat beside you, sipping on a cup of tea, her eyes occasionally darting to you. With a slight smirk she looks at the fireplace, then you, before clicking her fingers, a fire igniting and leaving you gasping from surprise. „Better?“ she asks and you nod shily, feeling the weight of her eyes on you and the feeling of safety this stranger is giving you. „Wanna tell me what happened?“ she asks and your eyes travel to the floor, the woman noticing your discomfort before she pats her legs and gets up. „Sorry, I assume you are tired. Let me show you to the spare room“ she offers.

The stranger leads you through her home, up the stairs and to a guest room, it feels warm and comfortable and she disappears for a moment, leaving you standing there before she comes back, bringing you some clothes and towels. „There is a bathroom through that door“ she points out as she passes you the pile of clothing and towels „And you are welcome to help yourself to anything from the kitchen“. You nod weakly, the exhaustion heavy on your mind before she leaves you be, turning her head once more before whispering „And my room is down the hall if you need anything else“.

With that, she leaves you standing in the middle of the room, both startled by her words and what had happened tonight, never expecting anyone to take you in, let alone another witch. Nevertheless, you are quick to change and shower yourself, finding the necessary things in the ensuite bathroom before collapsing onto the bed, the events from today and the whirlwind of your emotions swirling in your mind for a little longer before exhaustion takes over, sleep consuming you much quicker than you expected.

The following morning, the soft sound of cutlery wakes you as well as a heavenly smell, forcing your tired bones out of bed and following the scent, pulling the clothes a little closer to your body. You find the witch who had taken you in standing in the kitchen, placing food on the small table and smirking upon seeing you, liking the thought of seeing you in her clothes. „Good morning, slept well?“ she asks and you nod a little shily before taking a seat. „Eat up, you must be starving and we have a lot to do today“ she encourages and you dive right in, your stomach rumbling at the sight of the food in front of you. She eventually leads you into her basement and it takes your breath away, countless potions, magic objects and books, the whole place causing your magic to run through your veins.

„So what happened to you?“ the brunette asks as she prepares some things to get a better understanding of your magic. You swallow, the weight of the past few weeks heavy on your mind. „My family.. they made me feel like a freak- I didn‘t think there were other‘s- they made me feel like I was..“

„Dangerous?“ she finishes for you, her tone suddenly soft, almost sympathetic. She steps closer, her gaze searching yours. „Well, maybe you are. But that doesn‘t mean you can‘t control it“. Her fingers brush your shoulder, sending an unfamiliar warmth through you. And something about the way she looks at you, her expression hovering between care and calculation makes your pulse quicken. „Why .. would you go out of your way for me?“ you ask, the words barely a whisper.

She shrugs in response, her smile softening. „Call it.. curiosity“ her fingers continue to trail down your arm, lingering just a little too long. „And maybe a bit of interest. You got something special, something raw“. She leans in closer, her breath warm against your cheek. „Now, are you ready to start?“. You nod, unable to tear your gaze from hers, feeling the electric pull between you both. Agatha‘s smile widens as she leads you to a small table cluttered with candles and crystals that seem to hum under your fingertips. She watches you carefully, her eyes never leaving your own.

„Alright“ she begins, her tone suddenly instructive and guiding. „Let‘s see what you can do“. She holds her hand above a candle, the small flame flickering. „Focus on the flame, try to make it move“. You stare at the candle, the tiny flame barely casting warmth and take a deep breath. Your features filled with concentration, thinking back to all the things your family had ever said to you. As you raise your hand the flame trembles, growing larger and almost errupting into a fire, responding to your emotions and the fire of emotions inside you.

Agatha‘s eyes light up, a shocked but satisfied smirk on her lips. „Good“ she murmurs, her voice low. „You‘re much stronger than you realize dear.“ Her hand rests on your shoulder as she makes the flame smaller again, noticing how uncomfortable you are. „That was.. good?“ you ask, your voices filled with doubt and insecurities. „Yes.. sure we need to do a little training on controlling your powers but imagine what w- you can do“ she encourages, easing the doubts in your mind a little.

Over the next few days, Agatha pushes you further, her training intense. She would have you summoning sparks from your fingertips, control the wind with a single breath and even draw shadows to cloak your form. Each time you succeeded, her praise is subtle but, a small smile, a quick nod or a touch that lingers a little longer than necessary. At night, you would collapse onto your bed in the room she had set up for you, exhausted but relieved, your mind filled with excitement how much you had larned. Each evening your minds would think about each orher, Agatha slowly replacing the painful memories of your past with happy ones, secure ones. And the woman found herself caught in the whirlwind of her own game.

She didn‘t have the best of intentions, feeling your energy through the entirity of Westbrooke and upon seeing you knowing you are an easy target. She wanted your powers, so raw and uncontrollable, knowing you would eventually thank her as you could return to your family, cured. But over the weeks she had grown rather fond of you, having you around in her home, someone she could practice magic with and she couldn‘t deny how you replaced any feeling of loneliness, how your proud shy smile after working on your magic and succeeding caused her heart to beat faster. But she couldn‘t, she needed your magic and to stay on her path.

But the weeks passed and the woman found herself falling deeper for you, giving you breaks from training, taking you outside more, showing you the town and her favorite places, taking you shopping to get your own clothing and books and supplies that you wanted. She was falling for you and she knew it, and despite trying to keep her walls up high and stay on her evil game she couldn‘t, not with your beautiful smile, not with your beautiful eyes locking with her own. She had fallen for you and if she read the signs right, so had you, captivated by the woman from the first moment you ever saw her in the darkness of the night.

One night, after an especially tense session, you sink into the armchair by the fire, feeling the warmth soothe your aching muscles. Agatha sits beside you, staring into the glass of wine in her hands. Her gaze pierces through you, trying to fight her feelings but knowing it‘s hopeless. „Agatha?“ you whisper, barely audible and she instantly tears her gaze from you „Yes?“ she asks, the two of you much more familiar by now. „Why do you still keep me around?“ you ask „I made progress now, just like you said earlier, don‘t you want your life back?“ you ask, your voice filled with insecurity. And the woman wants to chuckle, wants to tell you that she didn‘t have much of a life before you stumbled into hers. How you made her nicer, made her happier. „I like having you around, I care about you“ she admits, her mouth reacting way quicker than her brain or heart could.

„I care about you too“ you admit, your eyes locking with her own and you see something in her eyes then that you had never seen before. „Maybe I care more than I should“ she admits, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion. But her words are enough, enough to confirm what you had asumed, enough to feel relief as you had been feeling the same way all along. In a brave attempt, your body shifts closer to the woman, glancing at her briefly before your faces are inches apart. And then she takes the initiative, her lips meeting yours, igniting a fire within her that she had never felt before. A possessiveness takes over as she grabs you by the collar, her lips never leaving yours, fireworks spreading through the both of you, your hearts beating in synch and your magic uniting.

That night, Agatha made you hers, instead of returning to the lonely beds of each other, returning to hers. She claimed you, marked your body as hers, making you feel things that neither of you had felt before. All the longing from the past few weeks replaced by a feeling of closeness. That night she held you, her thoughts trailing to her intentions from the beginning upon finding you and relieved she never ended up taking your magic, assuming you may be useful first, even thinking she could use you as her pet but you had captivated the woman, making her heart beat for you and it brought out a strange feeling in her chest, love. And so she held you close to her body, watching your chest rising and falling ever so slowly.

„Good Morning sleepyhead“ she greets you the next morning, the light drawing in through the curtains and causing you to squint your eyes a little. „Morning Aggie“ you mumbled sleepily before your eyes closed again, still exhausted from the night before. And right there and then she knew she loved you and that she wasn‘t going to let you go again ever.

The two of you found your own rhythm, still working on your magic but exploring life together over the next few weeks, you never returning back into the old room, staying with Agatha from now on. One night after some more sessions, your magic so much stronger now, she glances at you with pride in her eyes. „You‘ve come a long way“ she murmurs, her voice soft as she presses a kiss to your lips. You smile into the kiss, a warmth spreading through your body at her words. „Thanks to you“ you reply, holding her gaze „I owe you everything“ you murmur before resting your head on her shoulder.

You missed her expression shifting, guilt spreading through her at your words, feeling the weight of her intentions and the temptation of telling you the truth, not wanting to lie to you, you showing her an entirely different side of herself she had never felt before. She was dark before, only ever keeping her own intentions at bay but you turned her soft and she was beginning to like this side of her. She remained silent, not wanting to risk the intimacy of your connection and so she opts to hold you close instead, shushing you to sleep before eventually taking you to her bed.

It takes another week for the truth to finally come to the surface, Agatha out doing some errands for you both, you not having any bad intentions and wanting to tidy her basement a little, the two of you having made quite a mess due to her teaching you, working on each other‘s magic together and the night before when the two of you got so overwhelmed by each other‘s desire that you couldn‘t make it to bed. You didn‘t think anything bad when you found a small book on the floor, wanting to place it neatly on the shelf when your magic tingled in your veins again. Not thinking much, you opened the book, innocently enough assuming this was simply some spell your magic felt drawn to.

It didn‘t take long before you realized it was some sort of diary, the womans handwriting filling the pages. At first there wasn‘t anything unusual until you stumbled onto the pages about you „She‘s perfect, her magic so strong, she can make my powers so much stronger“ and finding the spells she had intended to use to rob you of your magic. Your hands tremble as your eyes read over the words, tears filling your vision as you dont even read further, dropping the book clumsily as tears pour down your cheeks. You thought she was genuine, the things she had shared and showed you real but the reality of it all being a lie hits you so much harder than your family abandoning you, the pain you had been going through before getting here.

The first thing you do upon getting upstairs is run, you don‘t care about your things that you had collected over your time with Agatha, your own belongings that she had mostly gotten for you, you run. Through the streets of Westbrooke, into the forest, not caring about the consequences anymore. Your tear stained face is puffy by the time you collapse into a tree, your vision blurry from the crying, running and hyperventilating. This feels like a nightmare, wishing so badly you could wake up in Agatha‘s arms and this all not being real. But the reality of it all hits you hard, your entire body hurting, your heart shattering into a million pieces. You stay right there, the middle of the forest with the sun slowly beginning to set, nowhere to go.

When Agatha returns, cheerful as ever, she sets the shopping bags down, unknowing of what had unfolded so far. She is confused not finding you anywhere, having checked all the rooms when she sees light creeping in from the basement. „Darling, I have finally found those crystal“ she begins but stops when she notices your absence. Upon some inspecting, she finds the book on the floor, taking it into her hands before seeing the open page and closing her eyes. She knows what this means, knows you had found her secret, having forgotten about her diary with having you beside her.

The witch wastes no time in rushing upstairs, practically running to your shared bedroom and finding a piece of your clothing. She uses her magic, concentrating while closing her eyes and it doesn't take long or much for the brunette to find your whereabouts, quickly teleporting in your direction, leaving behind a cloud of purple. She finds herself deep in the forest, the air chilly and the darkness of the night blinding her a little. ,,Y/N'' she calls out, almost screaming as she feels a little hysterical, scared for your wellbeing. When she hears a nearby noise, she makes her way over, finally exposing your tired and beaten form, your head in your hands as you sob quietly to yourself, not even having registered the woman being near you. ,,Oh thank god'' she mutters but her heart breaks at the sight, knowing she caused this pain when she promised herself to keep your heart safe and never hurt you, ever.

,,Y/N'' she calls out again as she kneels in front of you, her hand moving to your shoulder but you instantly freeze, escape her grasp as you somehow make it on your feet, realising she had found you. ,,Leave me alone'' you choke on a sob, walking a few steps away from her, still blinded from the tears and your blurry vision but needing to get away from her. You couldn't trust her, not after what you had read, understanding by now how truly dangerous she was and just why some of the residents of this town had given the woman side eyes when walking past, despite her seemingly friendliness to others. Tonight you learnt her true intentions and maybe it wasn't as bad, wouldn't have hurt as much considering you had been foolish, accepting a strangers help and walking into her home but she had been your first, captured your heart and changed you forever.

,,Please'' she begs, her voice raw and vulnerable, a side you had never seen before and if you could look at her or think clearly, you would see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice, the genuine remorse. ,,Listen baby I know what you must feel right now but please let me explain'' she begs as you continue walking away but she follows you either way. ,,I never meant to hurt you I promise and if you read the book further you would have-'' but you cut her off. ,,Seen what? more of your twisted plans? you hurt me Aggie, you used me, wanted to take my powers'' you scream, your emotions getting the better of you as tears still run down your cheeks. ,,Please just give me chance'' she pleads, running a little ahead of you to stop you from walking away. ,,Look at me'' she whispers as her hands travel to your arms, stopping you from storming off. ,,Y/N look at me please'' she begs and you do despite ever fibre of your being wanting to run.

,,Give me a chance to explain please'' she begs again and when your eyes meet her own you see the genuine remorse, the urge to explain but something within you holds you back, knowing she had manipulated you from the beginning, knowing you couldn't trust her anymore after this. ,,No.. I can't'' you mumble as you pry your eyes and body away from her own, continuing to storm off despite having no idea where to go. Agatha sighs, following you either way as she doesn't want you to get lost or hurt. For minutes on end you walk and she follows before you turn to look at her ,,You don't need to follow me, we are done! you hear me?'' you scream, having enough of this by now, your past catching up with you. You turn around abruptly, missing the huge tree stump ahead of you, tripping over it but before your body can hit the ground, her hand grabs your arm, keeping you from falling. ,,Are you okay? are you hurt?'' she whispers.

But there is something about her touch, the intensity of the situation and your emotions putting your powers on high alert, suddenly seeing a vision, little flashbacks as if watching the past few months through Agatha's eyes. You watch her true intentions, seeing how they quickly changed when she got to know you, that those intentions had been forgotten long before you shared your first kiss, how she had felt guilty ever since, how she would never hurt you and yes she may be dark and dangerous but she would never do anything to you. And when that realisation hits your eyes widen, Agatha not understanding what just happened as only you saw the vision, felt your magics reunite and show you what you so desperately needed to see. ,,I saw it all'' you mumble, her eyebrows furrowing, still not understanding.

,,A vision of the past'' you whisper as your eyes meet her own. She can see the hurt in your eyes replaced by guilt, feeling bad for how this night blew up, now realising you should have given her a chance to explain. ,,May I take you home and explain?'' she offers as she holds out a hand to you, feeling relieved for what your powers had done. ,,Yes'' you mumble and she takes your hand, teleporting you both back home. The first thing she does is fetch you some water and blankets, feeling your shivering still from walking aimlessly for hours. Right now, she cares more about your wellbeing than explaining, wanting to make sure you are fine first. After making you some tea, she settles beside you crosslegged, her hands on your knees and her eyes locking with your own.

,,Darling.. it's true'' she begins ,,I did want to take your powers but then I liked having you around and then well... I.. I love you'' she blurts out, knowing this may be too soon after everything but she had never been more sure of anything before in her life. Your eyebrow raise in surprise, not having expected that confession from the woman you had equally fallen for. ,,Aggie.. I love you too'' you confess, your eyes locking and speaking a silent language. ,,And I'm sorry you found out like that, I should have told you but I..'' she begins but struggles as tears fill her vision ,,I was scared you would leave, be scared of me'' she confesses, a rare vulnerable side. ,,No one has ever been kind to me like you have and no one has ever .. loved me'' she admits, the woman never having shared her full past with you and there is something in her eyes telling you that your pasts may be more similar than you initially believed. Your hands wipe her tears, hating to see her sad, despite appreciating her honesty, needing to hear those words in this moment.

,,I promise I'm not scared of you Aggie'' you explain and she sighs in relief, some more tears swelling in her eyes. ,,But may I ask you something?'' you whisper and the woman nods before mouthing ,,Anything''. It takes you a few seconds before you whisper ,,Are you a dangerous witch Aggie?'' and if it wasn't for the seriousness of it all, she would have chuckled at that. ,,I am a witch yes, and I may have done some terrible things in my past and yes maybe I am a little dangerous'' she admits, realising there isn't any point in lying to you anymore, knowing her magic wasn't exactly light at times. You can see the fear in her eyes, and her hands instinctively hold onto yours closer, scared you would slip through her fingers again and leave her.

,,If that isn't what you want or if that scares you, I understand'' she confesses, realising right there that no matter how much she wanted you to stay, your wellbeing, consent and happiness mattered more to her than her own. There is silence as you weigh your options, thinking about her words and despite your brain sending you some alerts, your heart ends up winning, your feelings too strong for her, believing her every word tonight and your magic having confirmed her honesty. ,,I want to stay Aggie'' you confess and at that she almost sobs, pulling you into her arms as she plasters kisses all over your cheeks and face.

After pulling away, she mouths the words thank you and you smile, wrapping an arm around her before saying ,,Let's be dangerous together''. Agatha chuckles softly, her arms tightening around you as a smirk creeps onto her face. ,,Together darling'' she murmurs, her lips brushing yours, sealing the promise between you.

[the-noted-collector]

How do the Fisher-Fishers decide who gets devoured and who gets converted? Also, does the transformation alter the victim's mind, or override it entirely?

Sorry for just now getting to this (I lost wifi) but here's hopefully a coherent answer.

There isn't really much rhyme or reason to the choice of who is and isn't transformed. Typically, though, the number of converted folk per ship is never more then 5. Mostly, they try to search for people who could provide useful; be it strength, cunning, or loyalty; and convert those people into their number. They can't be too picky on it as a convert has a equal chance of becoming a hunter or a lure, so converting someone who would be a good hunter due to tracking only to have them become a lure would be a waste of time.

That said, they also don't always kill the ships that end up at the isle. The ships they spare are often small fishing or research vessels (fishers and scientists don't make good converts, and the amount of food they'd get from it isn't worth the effort). It's not enough to make them seem like saviors or anything, but it's enough to prevent hostility.

As for the transformation part, it does have some effects on the mind. However it doesn't entirely override it. The large grouping is equal parts natural fish instinct to make swarms, and 'convincing' people into a cult. The undertones are very much there for it to basically be a brutal cult (when factoring in the Salt worship), though they don't actually have much of a goal in mind.

[heartfullofleeches]

Just say your Carnis and puppy!reader post, and my head immediately went to cattle dog!reader or emotional support puppy!reader would be an amazing pair for Carnis. Allow me to ramble a bit about emotional support puppy!reader for a bit-

disclaimer! I do not have an emotional support dog...I've got emotional support guinea pigs -kinda- so take my thoughts with a tablespoon of salt. ^^;

Anyways-!

- Emotional support puppy!reader who was the one who started the dynamic between the two without really realizing that was what they were doing. They'd catch Carnis in the middle of a panic attack or a trauma episode, and their first thought is to sit down beside him. Slowly inching closer and closer until they're sitting shoulder to shoulder with them. Turning their (reader's) head slightly towards him so they can keep an eye on his heart rate and anxiety levels.

- Emotional support puppy!reader who starts following Carnis around where they go, always within a quick few steps away from them. So that any time Carnis starts to seem like they're slipping into a nasty unfun headspace, Emotional support puppy!Reader can be there to gently guide them down to a sitting position. (Maybe if Carnis would be comfortable with it, Emotional support puppy!Reader can do some compression therapy by laying on top of the big softie. Especially if Emotional support puppy!Read is also Himbo/beefy puppy!Reader. So it's like a weighted blanket -and Carnis gets a face full of puppy!Reader's chest. It's warm.)

- Carnis who becomes a bit dependent on Emotional support puppy!Reader. Gaining separation anxiety, freaking out and pushing themselves into a panic attack if Reader isn't an arms length away. Which only makes Reader feel all that more like they've gotta be there for their friend :(.

- Carnis who treats Emotional support puppy!Reader more like an emotional support stuffy a child might carry around with them 24/7

- (Emotional support puppy!Reader who -as a joke- gets a collar or like vest that says 'Emotional Support Animal' with Carnis' name under the words. Both writing out in big letters)

Just emotional support puppy!Reader and Carnis brain rot.

I saw beefy and himbo used to describe Reader, and my soul ascended to the heavens- You were already cooking with this, but a sweet, himbo puppy who makes it their duty to keep Carnis in a stable mind is gold. Carnis had dealt with orderlies pinning them down whenever they lashed out in the lab- Those rough, cruel hands replaced by the passive weight and fluff of a kind puppy would do wonders for Carnis, and put them out like a light.

Besides their embrace, nothing soothes Carnis quicker than Puppy yapping about whatever topic their brain comes up with- It gives them something else to focus on than what's dragging them down, and Puppy has never painted Carnis repeating words and phrases they say in a negative light, which the cow values more than anything.

Carnis dependency gets so bad somedays they'll have a full blown melt down if Puppy makes the harmless mistake of switch over to another isle in the grocery store. If Carnis doesn't have them in his immediate line of sight, who knows what might happen? Puppy gifting Carnis an article of clothing ripe with their scent like a shirt or jacket helps him work up the courage to distance themselves from Puppy for a while... If they didn't get too caught sniffing it all the time.

-

Carnis: Y/n a-asked me to pick up some tomatoes for dinner. They gave.. me their sweater because they trusted me.... Y/n's sweater.... Puppy's sweater... Smells nice. Soft too.. L-like them... Sleepy..

Puppy Reader: Haha- We'll work on this later, let's just go together, like always!

-

Puppy Reader: So, there's this donut shop that has huuuge donut display on their roof, and everytime I pass it I wonder how much of it I could eat before I got sick if it were real... Sorry- This probably isn't helping much, wanna switch over to counting?

Carnis: N...no... This...is better.

[greenwitchcrafts]

August 2024 Witch Guide

New Moon: August 4th

First Quarter: August 12th

Full moon: August 19th

Last Quarter: August 26th

Sabbats: Lughnasadh/Lammas- August 1st

August Sturgeon Moon

Also known as: Barely Moon, Black Cherries Moon, Corn moon, Dispute Moon, Harvest moon, Herb Moon, grain moon, Mountain Shadows Moon, Red moon, Ricing Moon, Weodmonath & Wyrt moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Leo & Virgo

Animal spirts: Dryads

Deities: Diana, Ganesha, Hathor, Hecate, Mars, Nemesis, Thot & Vulcan

Animals: Dragon, lion, phoenix & sphinx

Birds: Crane, eagle & falcon

Trees: Alder, cedar & hazel

Herbs: Basil, bay, fennel, orange, rosemary, rue & St.John's wort

Flowers: Angelica, chamomile, marigold & sunflower

Scents: Frankincense & heliotrope

Stones: Carnelian, cats/tiger's eye, emerald, fire agate, garnet, jade, moonstone, peridot, red jasper, red agate, sardonyx, topaz & tourmaline

Colors: Dark green, gold, orange, red & yellow

Energy: Abundance, appreciation, authority, courage, entertainment, finding your voice, friendship, gathering, harvesting energy, health, love, pleasures, power, prophecy, prosperity, vitality & wisdom

The name Sturgeon Moon comes from the giant lake sturgeon of the Great Lakes & Lake Champlain; this native freshwater fish was readily caught during this part of summer & an important food staple for Native Americans who lived in the region. At one time the lake sturgeon was quite abundant in late summer, though they are rarer today.

• August's full moon is the first Supermoon of the year, which means that it will appear bigger & brighter than the full Moons we have seen so far!

Lughnasadh

Known as: Lammas, August Eve  & Feast of Bread

Season: Summer

Element: Fire

Symbols: corn, grain dollies & shafts of grain

Colors: Gold, golden yellow, green, light brown, orange, purple, red & yellow

Oils/Incense: Aloe, apple, corn, eucalyptus, safflower, rose & sandalwood

Animals: Cattle (bull & calf)

Birds: Chicken/Rooster

Stones: Aventurine, carnelian, citrine, peridot, sardonyx & yellow diamond

Food: Apples, barely cakes, berries, berry pies, breads, colcannon, cider, corn, grains, honey, lamb, nuts, potatoes, rice, sun-shaped cookies & wild berries

Herbs/Plants: Alfalfa, aloe, blackberry, bramble, corn, cornsilk, corn stalk, crab apple, fenugreek, frankincense, ginseng, goldenseal, gorse, grape, medowsweet, oak leaves, pear, rye, sloe & wheat

Flowers:  Clyclamen, heather hollyhock & sunflower

Trees: Acacia, apple, myrtle,oak & rowan

Goddesses: Aine, Alphito, Bracacia, Carmen, Ceres, Damina, Danu, Demeter, Ereshkigal, Freya, Frigga, Gaia, Inanna Ishtar, Kait, Persephone, Sul, Taillte, Tea & Zaramama

Gods: Athar, Bes, Bran, Dagon, Dumuzi, Ebisu, Ghanan, Howtu, Liber, Lono, Lugh, Neper, Odin & Xochipilli

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Accomplishment, agriculture, challenges, darkness, death, endings, release & transformation

Spellwork: Abundance, bounty, fire magick, rituals of thanks & sun magick

Activities:

• Bake fresh bread

• Weave wheat

• Take walks in nature or along bodies of water

• Craft a corn doll

• Learn a new skill

• Watch the sunrise/sunset

• Leave grains and seeds in a place where birds, squirrels and other small animals can appreciate them

• Eat outside with family/friends/coven members

• Donate to your local foodbank

• Prepare a feast with your garden harvest

• Give thanks & offerings to the Earth

• Trade crafts of make deals

• Gather and/or dry herbs to use for the upcoming year

• Celebrate/honor the god Lugh by hosting a competition of games

• Participate in matchmaking or handfasting ceremonies

• Decorate your altar with symbols of the season

• Clean up a space in nature

• Plant saved seeds or save seeds to use in the future

Lughnasadh or Lammas is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. Historically it was widely observed throughout Ireland, Scotland & the Isle of Man. Traditionally it is held on 1 August, or about halfway between the summer solstice & autumn equinox. In recent centuries some of the celebrations have shifted to the Sunday nearest this date.

Lughnasadh is mentioned in early Irish literature & has pagan origins. The festival is named after Lugh the god of craftsmanship. It was also founded by the god Lugh as a funeral feast & athletic competition/funeral games in memory of his foster-mother Tailtiu. She was said to have died of exhaustion after clearing the plains of Ireland for agriculture.

• Tailtiu may have been an earth goddess who represented the dying vegetation that fed mankind.

• Another tale says that Lugh founded the festival in memory of his two wives, the sisters Nás & Bói. 

In the Middle Ages it involved great gatherings that included ceremonies, athletic contests (most notably the Tailteann Games which were extremely dangerous), horse racing, feasting, matchmaking & trading.

• With the coming of Christianity to the Celtic lands, the old festival of Lughnasadh took on Christian symbolism. Loaves of bread were baked from the first of the harvested grain & placed on the church altar on the first Sunday of August. The Christianized name for the feast of Lughnasadh is Lammas which means “loaf mass”.

Some believe this is the time where the God has weakened & is losing his strength as seen in the waning of the day's light. The Goddess is pregnant with the young God who will be born on Yule.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[myownwholewildworld]

acta, non verba - i. a badge of honour

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. synopsis: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all. a/n: well, here it is! the first chapter of my new series, set in what is now scotland, during the romans' conquest of the british isles in the 1st century. hope you guys like it! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you so much for reading! <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. death, aftermath of a battle, burial of family members. reader is an original character - female, has a name (callie) and a physical description, family history, etc. i'll try to keep the references to a minimum though. age gap (callie is 26, marcus is 48). mention of infidelity and becoming a widow. marcus’ and reader’s pov. i have taken some historical licenses for ease of writing (use of "clan" as synonym for "tribe", references to irish/celtic gods, the caledonian people speak modern scottish gaelic instead of a (proto-)brittonic language). w/c: ~4.2k. dividers by @saradika-graphics i'll be tagging some people at the end of the chapter who interacted with this post. dw, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you ask me to! also, if you want to be removed from this post, please send me a dm.

A light breeze whistled through the nearby standing stones. The dying sun provided no heat, and the ethereal landscape was cold with hues of blue and grey. Despite the shimmering wildlife that came with the first hints of spring, the meadow was uncannily silent.

The crows cackling in the distance broke such tranquil peace and woke you from your slumber.

Slowly you blinked, something wet and warm covering your eyelids. You felt it slide down your skin, pooling in the dip of your collarbone. Your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t lift a hand to rub your eyes clean. In fact, you were so tired that even taking a deep breath hurt.

Your orbs fluttered shut, shattered and defeated.

Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, was calling you to His side. His presence was soothing, so inviting, the most melodic sounds guiding you to Him. With the eyes of your dying imagination, He extended a welcoming hand towards you, a soft smile on His mythical features.

“Come with me, sweet child of the tribes.” A guttural voice escaped His lips, so dark and sombre it enveloped you.

You nodded, gaze down, submitted to Him.

“You can’t just take her, Dhuosnos. Callie is yet to avenge them — her purpose must be fulfilled first before she can greet you as an equal.” A second voice, feminine, otherworldly and reassuring, interrupted your exchange.

Morrígan, Goddess of War, placed Her hand on Dhuosnos’ forearm as to stop Him from reaching you. A stone of relief, but also of disappointment, sat low in your stomach when He took a step back, head bowed towards Her.

Steadily you undid your curtsy, your green eyes locking on Hers. They were black as the night sky, Her pupils and irises indistinguishable from one another. You looked into the abyss of Her sight and felt a deep-rooted longing, one you never experienced before.

“You are not done yet, mo leanabh (my child). Your people await your return.” Morrígan palmed your trembling hand, escorting you back to the earthly plane.

“But…”, you turned around to look at Her, ask for Her advice.

But She had already vanished, a sweet scent of lavander left behind.

You gasped awake, your eyes so widened, the cloudy, sunset sky above felt like it was crashing down on you. You were laying down on a pool of mud. A deep, raspy grunt escaped your lungs as you tried to move your arms. When you couldn’t, you looked down, confused.

Aengus’ lifeless body was resting on top of yours. Your father’s henchman had made the ultimate sacrifice by hiding you underneath him, away from the prying eyes of the Romans. The dense liquid caressing the skin on your face was none other than his blood. A trickle of thick red dripped from the gnarly wound in his neck on to your cheek. His eyes were staring at you emptily, his soul had already left this world when you regained consciousness.

Your father, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis, the Caledonian Overlord, had come to the aid of the Taexalian Overlord, whose territory was succumbing to the legions of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, a Roman governor with a high desire to impress his Emperor, Titus Flavius Domitianus.

Your father had gathered as many fighers as the Caledonian lands could give him. Both men and women were called to arms when the tribes were threatened. Being the daughter of the Chieftain would not spare you. You would not have chosen differently anyway, had you been given the opportunity. Fighting for land, clan and honour was your duty as much as your brothers’ and sister’s.

The journey from Inbhir Nis (Inverness) to Cala na Creige (Stonehaven) had been unforgiving, with illness and evil lying in wait. But you all had been warmly welcomed by the Taexali tribe and were fed copiously, the uisge-beatha (whisky) being served like water.

Your combined armies, shy of fifteen thousand folk, had been ambushed at Raedykes during a repositioning exercise by the Roman troops led by Agricola’s most trusted man.

General Marcus Acacius.

His mere name made you sick, anger crawling under your skin.

Fighting off your own opponents, you had seen the Roman General charge against your father like a beast, wielding a gladius over his head. The metallic impact of their swords rang loud across the landscape. The men looked into each other’s souls, an exchange of words shared between them. You were too far to listen, too far to fully see what was really happening as warriors from both sides danced through the grass.

Then you foresaw it before it happened: the heavy Roman sword fell on your father, who was struck to his knees with the General’s blade lodged in his belly.

You tried to get to him, screaming “Athair (father)!” at the top of your lungs. His eyes locked on yours before he fell sideways. You lunged forward but didn’t get to him, Aengus stopping you in your tracks.

“No, Callie, it’s too late now”, he had sorrowfully whispered in your ear before throwing you off to one side to fend off an attacker.

And then blackness swallowed you, an enemy hit you in the head so hard you lost consciousness.

That was how you came to be where you were — with your back flat on the silt and Aengus’ body blanketing yours. The grey sky above you sensed your pain, and, at Taranis’ command, it parted in the middle. The God of Thunder released a downpour to clean the blood, soot and woad’s blue dye off your face and hair.

You cried your sadness away, rainy tears sliding off the corners of your eyes — your anger, your loss, your torment, you purged it all, sobbing until you were devoid of all emotion. Taking a deep breath, which caused a needling pain on your ribs, you pushed Aengus to one side to free yourself from his weight.

The thudding sound he made almost brought more tears to your eyes.

“Sorry, uncail (uncle)”, you muttered, hovering your fingertips over his eyelids to shut them for him. Now he could finally rest.

You stood up, your knees trembling like a newborn calf. A searing pain stabbed your skull, dried blood and dirt gathering on the wound on your scalp. With a straight back, you dared to look around you. The bodies of your own men and women were scattered around the hills of Raedykes. So many lives lost, you heard all your ancestors screaming from above, their cries falling upon you in the way of rain. The green, long grass was reddened with blood, but the weeping sky had started to wash away the atrocities committed by the Romans.

Then you saw him. Your athair.

“No, no, please, no...”, you whispered as your sight became blurry again, dragging your feet towards the fallen body of your dad.

Your soul tried to tear itself apart, become its own entity. You had to summon the last drop of the royal blood that ran through your veins to keep yourself in one piece. You knelt before him, craddling his bloody hand between yours. Unconciously your body rocked back and forth until you hugged him, laying flat on top of him.

Time stood still, like a thread on the expert hands of a wool weaver. It could have been minutes, hours or days, your pain too great to bear, to comprehend.

And then you felt a hand lightly tap your shoulder.

You startled, your mind and body jumping back into survival mode, gripping your sgian-dubh (small knife) close to your chest.

“It’s okay, mo phiuthar (my sister). It’s me, Torcall”, a raspy, masculine voice forced you to focus on the man in front of you.

He was your father’s most important tacksman and also husband to your older sister Mairead — your sweet Maisie, as you always called her. She was the eldest of the four siblings while you were the youngest. Always so witty and quick with a joke, Maisie kept up the spirits even when the circumstances were dire — in fact, before your paths had parted during the battle, she jested about your H-shaped shield being larger than you.

When you turned around, Torcall flattened his hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking you so you would come back to reality.

His blue eyes pierced through you, the situation becoming clearer in your mind. Thousands of your tribesmen were dead. Your father too.

“Maisie?”, you asked in a hush. Your heart clenched when your brother-in-law shook his head no. You were afraid to speak, but you did nonetheless. “Aodh and Somhairle?”

Torcall stared at you, his silence speaking loudly. “They are all dead.”

The air evacuated your lungs, feeling as if a spear had run through you. Learning about the death of Maisie and your twin brothers broke something within you, something fundamental and primal. They were your everything, your most trusted confidants. Despite being of different ages, you all were so tight-knit it was difficult to find one of you alone.

A heart-shattering wail escaped your lips as you bent over yourself, your chest snug against your knees.

Morrígan had unashamedly claimed most of your family that day, except for your beautiful mother. Now Her words made sense: you were yet to avenge them, to fulfil your purpose. She had spared you for a reason, not so you could pity yourself, knees deep in the mud.

To avenge them, you had to kill the hand who showered this tragedy upon you.

General Marcus Acacius.

A raven’s strident, gurgling croak forced you to look up to the skies — a subtle reminder that Morrígan was watching closely. The massive bird was circling above your heads, like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass. With resolution, you wiped away your tears, your sobs now silent, and nodded at Torcall.

“I understand. How many…?”, your voice faltered before you could finish your question.

“A couple of thousands. We have found cover in the Dunnottar Woods while we regroup and… bury our dead.” Torcall replied, his eyes averted with the last sentence.

You had lost a sister, but he had lost a wife, the mother to his now half-orphaned children. “I’m sorry”, you muttered, your lips pouting once more.

“She died fighting, the death of a warrior.” His proud voice did not waver. “And your father?”

Your heart wept at his mention but managed to control the anxious fluttering.

“The General killed him.” Your teeth gritted with hatred.

“Mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, one of your father’s retinue members bowed his head to you once you walked into the circle they had formed in a meadow between the trees.

A few dozen men were scattered around the area, fires lighting the dark night while shades of red and orange flickered, creating fiery, dancing shades. You held a torch and carefully waved it in front of you, looking at the faces who watched you back eagerly.

You saw in your men what was brewing inside you: despair, defeat, sorrow. All your souls grieving in unison — all of you had lost someone that day.

At six and twenty, you did not expect to be in this position. You were the youngest daughter of the Overlord — you were never meant to lead your people. The task ahead of you felt titanic, unachievable.

But you had no other option. General Marcus Acacius had forced your hand.

He came, he saw, he conquered.

And now you had to deal with the gut-wrenching outcome of his departure.

“We’ll go back home to Inbhir Nis. But before that, we must give burial to our people.” You had to make a herculean effort to infuse your tone with steadiness.

Torcall first, and then the rest, bowed their heads to you.

“As you command, mo bana-phrionnsa”, he replied, and quickly barked orders around in your stead.

Your chest felt heavy with responsibility and grief. What pained you the most was not being able to carry your brothers and sister with you back home. They would not be buried under the cairns near you family home with the rest of your ancestors.

And what was worst — thousands of lives now depended on you. The weight of your tribe's destiny heavily rested on your shoulders now, like Atlas carrying the heavens.

Maisie, Aodh and Somhairle had been lined up on a patch of wildflowers that you had picked yourself the night prior — their arms were threaded together with your sister in the middle. Your clansmen had also surrounded the makeshift burial pit with wood to aid the combustion.

As you placed the last stone on top of them, you also deposited a bright, bloomed thistle. The flower that blossomed in every nook and cranny of your beautiful motherland, despite the harsh winter or conditions it faced. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, it would always come back, stronger and more brightful than ever.

Devotion, bravery, determination, and strength — the thistle was a badge of honour for the Caledonians.

With a renewed brawn unbeknownst to you, you threw the lighted torch and watched as the fire consumed the bodies underneath the stones.

There were no tears left within you. Only purpose and resolution.

The way back to Inbhir Nis was tiring and soul-crushing. Hiking through the Cairngorms had been a difficult task with so many people behind you, but luckily you all managed to make it through without any losses.

With each mile covered, you saw the devastation left behind by the Romans. If this was any indication of what awaited ahead, you should start bracing yourself for what you would see. It seemed that the Romans were set towards the northwest — Inbhir Nis was right in their path.

You quickly recognised the landscape as you walked towards Loch Moy. A thick, dark column of smoke towered above the pine trees. Your heart raced as you picked up your dark green skirt and ran towards the loch, ignoring the calls of your brother-in-law.

You could run through those woods blindly — this was the land where you were born, the land you were named after. Your name was an unusual one — Caledonia, in honour of the earth beneath your rushing feet. Just a few people called you Callie, mainly your family and closest friends. With your bright, fiery red hair, green almond eyes and a face dotted with freckles, you were the epitome of your people. That was probably why when someone new learned your name, they always said it suited you.

Dodging the last few trees, you made it to the edge of the loch. In the shallows, the crannog of Naimh, your community’s healer, was burning down to its foundation. You covered your mouth with a sombre expression, your eyes itchy because of the dense smoke and unspent tears.

The Romans had gotten to your settlement before you did.

“Callie, wait up”, said Torcall behind you, struggling to catch up with you.

He halted right behind you, the silence between you was almost tangible.

“The rangers have returned from their reconnaissance mission.” His voice was plain, contained. You turned your heard towards him, slowly, hardening yourself for his next words. “Your mother is dead.”

The last glimmer of hope within you vanished. A single tear skidded through your cheek — angrily, you wiped it off.

You were alone in this world. Everyone you cared for had been taken from you.

“Is everything to your liking, Dominus (Master)?”, the male roman servant asked in a low hush, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobblestone.

“Yes, now leave”, Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The General looked around him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He was accustomed to much more elegant surroundings. Although the barbarians did try, their architecture was nothing in comparison to Rome’s.

The castle he was in was small and it only had two floors. It was mainly made of sturdy, grey rocks and dark wood. The design was not very sophisticated, all square and rugged edges. It had two towers and a barbican. The decoration inside was bare, with just enough furniture and no luxuries.

The only warmth was brought by the colourful tapestries adorning the cold, thick walls — one had caught Marcus' attention at his arrival when he first entered the dais. It told a story he had not heard before.

A dragon-like figure lurked beneath the rippling surface of a lake, attracting the attention of the villagers. At dusk it would emerge, a guttural sound echoing in the dead of night, as if it was calling another. Any bìrlinns (wooden vessel) left on the shore would appear destroyed the next morning. Fishermen were worried and called upon the town's druids, afraid of the Loch Ness monster. To appease the beast, every full moon, the druids would whorship the creature, bringing oblations and sacrificies to quench its thirst.

Marcus made a mental note of keeping his distance from that Loch Ness. As a devoted Roman, he was wary of the mystic creatures that skulked in the depths of human fear.

Although he missed his home, he had several debts to pay. The Emperor would not accept no for an answer, so he had to be a reluctant participant in this incursion — in fact, neither Domitian nor Agricola had really asked him to tame the highlanders up in Caledonia. They knew his skills would be most needed in combat, having been praised by bards and poets alike after his many years in the battlefield.

At eight and forty, Marcus Acacius had had his good share of tragedy and death, both personal and in war. His life had not been easy, having to forge a name of his own since childbirth and then having been recently betrayed by his own spouse.

The thought of Livia still angered him — she had had the audacity of blaming him for her infidelity, accusing him of always being away, of loving Rome more than his own family. Her cheating had been going on for as many years as their arranged marriage, throwing a doubtful shade on his paternity to both his children.

His life had come crumbling down in the last few months, so maybe coming to Britannia had not been such a bad idea. Female adultery was a crime penalised with death and that was a decision that Marcus had yet to make — outing Livia’s unfaithfulness would condemn her to Pluto's realm. Did he really want that for who had been his wife for more than thirty years?

Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, Marcus walked towards the only window in the room. The roman took a deep breath and exhaled steadily — he needed to think of something else.

His mind went back to the battle of Mons Graupius. The spilling of blood never became easier with time — if anything, it had become harder, splintering his soul further. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the piercing, pained shriek of a woman as he imparted death on Murdoch of Inbhir Nis.

Her hair was dyed with black soot and tied back, her face covered in a blue paste and ash. He was too far to catch the colour of her eyes, but he thought them dark azure. The fierceness of her expression took him aback, her voice shouting a word he did not recognise. But his eyes did not have time to linger on the feral woman a few yards away, because a savage attacked him.

His hand stilled on the rocky window’s sill. The barbarians called this place Inbhir Nis. The stone castle was that of the chief’s family, atop of a hill with views to the scenery underneath. It was rudimentary and lacked many commodities — nothing comparable to his villa in Rome. The tribal settlement was formed of huts made of stone, timber and hay.

Agricola had decided to burn down the outskirts of the town and killed the wife of the clan chief making a macabre example of her, so the people would submit to the Roman’s yoke quickly, crushing any opportunity of rebellion. The message was clear: Rome would not tolerate being challenged. Anyone who did, would face the most painful of deaths. The governor left to go northward, leaving Marcus behind to rebuild the area to Rome’s standards. The emperor had deemed the location an important enclave for his empire, being the main town in the Moray Firth.

Marcus was standing in what he thought was the bedchamber of Murdoch. With the Overlord and his family alienated, the primitive people of the highlands needed educating and he had been given the task of doing so. Not a welcomed one, but he had a duty to Rome that had to be fulfilled.

With a heavy sigh, he undid the brooch at the base of his neck, relieving himself of the heavy, white sagum (cape) that was part of his attire. He threw it on the uncomfortable bed. He unfastened the golden, laurel-shaped bracelets around his wrists, and then proceeded to undo the tight knots that held his armour in place.

Then a knock on the thick, wooden door broke the silence of the room.

“Come in”, thinking it would be his male servant, he didn’t turn around.

“Dominus, dinner is ready”, a very soft voice with a very marked accent made him look over his shoulder.

A pair of very bright, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes locked on his, framed by what he would describe as fire hair — so red it looked like a hellish aura crowning your head.

So bright were your eyes, he almost felt his soul being examined by your hypnotising gaze. Marcus had never seen eyes like those.

How dared he stand where your father did? Anger shimmered under your skin, but you kept it in check. When you realised you were holding his gaze for longer than what was appropriate for a servant girl, you averted your eyes, inspecting the stones under your feet.

Torcall called you mad for doing this, but you had made up your mind. If you really wanted to overthrow the Roman General and win back your family’s castle and land, you would need to sew yourself into his everyday life. Gain his trust, learn his secrets and use that information against him. Your people were counting on you for freedom, and you would not allow yourself to disappoint them. Even if it was the last thing you did.

“Who are you?”, his raspy voice filled the atmosphere as he resumed the task of undoing the ties on his armour.

Did he have no shame, undressing himself in front of a maid? Mind you, you were not an innocent servant, having been widowed recently. But still. The romans had no modesty, you assumed.

You had to think quickly. You had learnt that the governor and the general both thought the whole chief’s family dead, so you could not out yourself. A very few, selected people called you Callie, almost always in the intimacy of your home, when strangers were not around. Your nickname was precious to you because it was only used by those you loved.

“My name is Callie, Dominus”, you offered your nickname in a rusty Latin. It had been a while since you had to use a language that was not your native one.

“Callie.” The way your name rolled off his tongue gave you goosebumps. You didn’t like the way he pronounced it — it lingered in his mouth for too long, dragging each letter. You wished your words back, but you couldn't change it now.

Instead of clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, my lord, I’m one of the servant girls who tended to the clan chief’s family before you.” You explained, your head still bowed.

You ventured your eyes up for a second, catching a glimpse of his naked torso. Unconsciously, you pursed your lips. The way your heart pounded loud for that one second made you furrow your brows in confusion.

He might be a gorgeous man, but he was a killer. And you had no taste for soulless murderers, that much you knew about yourself.

“Call my attendant, Atticus, to help me get ready for supper. I have no need of you. And ask the kitchen staff to heat some water and bring it up here.” His tone was emphatic, unwavering.

His rejection, in other circumstances, would have been most welcomed, but you needed him to trust you, to confide in you so you could plot his demise — to destroy him. This was not a good start to your plan, but you needed to play the long game.

“I could certainly help you with a bath now, Dominus, but your wish is my command.” You forced the words out, when in reality you wanted to spit them to his murderous face.

He just nodded in your direction, his movements stiff and measured. “Just my attendant will suffice, now go.”

With your fingers laced on your back, you curtsied, walking backwards towards the door of your father’s bedchamber. You could not seem too eager, or he would become suspicious.

When you were in the corridor with the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

You would not take no for an answer. Marcus Acacius would yield to you, whatever the cost.

@devilbat2 @subterralienpanda @lordofthundersstuff @just-mj-or-not

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[karenssupplystore]

Photo booth (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN! reader)

Warnings: none (let me know if there is any!)

Word count: 1079

There weren't many times when Simon had a day off, but when he did, you better know he'd be spending every moment with his partner. 

Back for a few days after a long mission? Reports are finished in record time and left on Price's desk.

A few hours between long meetings? He's calling you or sending a text, just wanting a moment of peace and to hear your voice before he'll inevitably have to deal with Soap's shenanigans.

Point being any time away from work he has, you're the first thing on his mind, and he will do anything to get that little bit of recharge time with the one person who he feels he can truly relax with.

So when the 141 gets back from a long, few-month mission on the other side of the globe, as soon as humanly possible, Simon's heading home to be with you. 

The first few days are just spent curled up together. Lazy mornings turning into lazy afternoons with lingering touches and tender kisses. Cooking together in the warmth of your shared kitchen, his big arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rests on the top of your head. Warm meals and lots of storytelling, more so coming from your end, but who wouldn't want to know about how the neighbours got into another fight and might be ending in divorce this time?

After those initial days just gently getting back into the calm civilian life, the two of you are more than happy to adventure out for the day. Treating yourselves to a nice cup of tea and a fresh pastry from a rather fancy cafe in the heart of town and a calm walk by river, hand in hand, the two of you find yourselves in a little corner store as the clouds roll over and little drops start to fall.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Bloody hell love, a little rain won't hurt ya," Simon chuckles as you pull him into a nearby corner store as the droplets of rain start to gain momentum, falling in a more rapid succession.

"Yes, but I did my hair today, and I don't want it to be ruined," you answer with a playful roll of your eyes. The store is much more pleasant than the rain, with a warm glow to the lights and, most importantly, nice and dry. 

Deciding to busy yourselves while the rain rolls over, the two of you go up and down the few isles, pointing out little snacks you want to try or ones you have tried and definitely didn't like. Coming to the end of one of the isles you spot an old photo booth pushed into the corner and excitedly pull on Simon's arm.

"Si, look! Do you think it works?" The whole thing looks like it hasn't been used in a long while, but, taking your chances, you pull the curtain open and the display lights up. 

"Suppose it does, come 'ere," a large hand moves to hold your waist as you're pulled onto Simon's lap, the two of you making a tight fit in the small booth.

With an excited squeal you press a few buttons, pulling a few pound coins from your pocket and inserting them into the machine, a quick preview of the photo format appearing on the screen. Before the two of you can plan what your poses will be, the first timer starts counting down.

""Right, just a smile then?" He says, guiding one of your arms over his shoulders as you lean your head closer, big smile pulling at your lips and a hint of a curl on the Brits. The flash clicks and the photo shows before another timer starts counting down.

"Now a silly one!" You say, holding up bunny ears behind his head as you stick your tongue out, Simon doing quite the similar pose. The timer stops and another flash goes off, both your eyes drawn to the preview of the photo. For a burly military man Simon sure does look a bit silly with the tip of his tongue poking out and your fingers as bunny ears behind him, contrasting his usual hard and gruff facade he put son for the average individual.

"Hey, you copied my idea," A playful shove is given to his shoulder as you look at the photo, chuckles leaving the both of you. "Can't help if it's a good idea," Simons voice grumbles though the smile on his scared lips tells you how happy you make him as he pokes a finger in your ribs, making you laugh.

"Simon!" You giggle, half heartedly pulling away from him, "That tickles!" The Brit doesn't stop his teasing and you try to pull away again that you almost fall off his lap, arms flailing slightly but a hand firmly on your waist ensures you don't go anywhere. In the struggle the timer for the third photo finishes and the flash goes off just as you feel like you're tipping.

As the two of you calm your giggles you see there's only one photo left and you turn to look at Simon, exaggerated disappointment on your face. "Look you ruined the photo," you tease as you point to the screen.

"Wouldn't have been ruined if ya were more original," He chuckles, fingers lightly pinching your thigh as he gazes at you with those big brown eyes. "I'm plenty original, thank you"

The timer counting down for the fourth and final picture snaps you both back as you stumble to figure out one last pose.

"What do you we do for this one?" You ask out loud as you try your hardest to think of a cute pose.

Without more than a little grumble of a 'Come 'ere' Simons free hand reaches up and gently wraps around your neck, pointer finger helping guide your face to his as your lips meet his. All thoughts are almost completely disregarded as you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue traces the seam of your lips. Just as you begin to part your lips the flash goes off and the machine begins to print the series of photos.

""ere you go, love," Simon grumbles as his hand leaves your warm skin to grab the photos, handing them to you. Hand on your thigh giving you a gently pat before guiding you off his lap and out of the photo booth, grin on his lips the whole time.

[wanderingskychild]

Before the 2nd Season of Passage quest came I took screenshots of the Passage Guide & their students as they were. I like to think of myself being the teacher’s assistance, after all we did set up the torches to call in the students.

Oddball Outcast I feel most relatable to. I’m socially awkward irl too but more of an introvert than someone who feels left out.

Melancholy Mope is such an emo & I absolutely love it 😊. Emotes that aren’t always energetic really grab my attention, the slouching emote is already one of my favorites & this one is no exception.

Rolling into a ball is such fun & Tumbling Troublemaker has such an amazing personality. In their idle animation they roll around in a set path & if timed correctly you can collide with them. Sharing a laugh afterwards.

Overactive Overachiever is by all means in my opinion the most capable of the four spirits. They’re strong, prideful, & were the first of the four to gain a mask after the second quest. & all this time before they were stretching & doing pull ups, preparing for the task at hand. She’s great in my book. Plus doing pull ups is fun.

This season has quickly become my 2nd favorite. 1st will always be Aurora.