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itstheghostofmypast · 1 year ago

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His Honeybee

Draco Malfoy x (f)Reader

Summary: She was as sweet as honey, as warm as the sun, and as bright as the colour yellow, that would always have his legs turn to jello. Her love for him was as vast as the sea, she was his honeybee.

Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst)

Warnings: None

A/N: I swear I'm still try na catch up with my requests but please bear with me, I need to get this stuff out of my system from time to time to relax. Please remember to show some love by ❤️ and reblogs.

With a small huff, he dropped his bag, eyes as clear as the lake before him, watching it glimmer under the rising sun. The mist around them had settled to a low veil, only adding to the chilly sensation, nipping at the tip of his ears.

Slowly, he settled down beside a warmer body, moving closer to welcome the furnace-like warmth, earning a small chuckle from the person beside him, his hand reaching to grab onto its counterpart, another half, to complete the puzzle, her hand.

"Didn't I tell you to wear a cap?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, eyes never leaving the book, colouring book? It was at this point that his gaze moved from her alluring side profile to her lap, noticing the coloured pencils and markers on the other side in an unzipped pouch, then the book in her lap, watching her colour an abnormally large, unrealistic, geometric flower.

"Didn't I tell you it'll mess up my hair." his words came out a bit colder than he had intended to, the irritation in his tone was evident, but it was not because of her, never because of her. It was just the cold and the lack of attention he was being provided, but he didn't want her to think it was her fault, he had always tried to be gentle with her, and a tender undertone would resurface from within him around her.

"Even the one I knitted for you?" she pouted turning to look at him properly, a small gasp escaping her lips as she noticed the little kisses and nips left by Lady Winter herself, all across his face, the pink tips of his ears to the way his cheeks were splattered with pink and the tip his nose of a cute little rosy colour. "You look like you're freezing." she huffed letting go of his hand, much to his disapproval, turning to fish for something in her bag.

"You didn't knit me any....thing" his words slowly died off when she pulled out a woollen cap, with two strings on each side, it was by far the ugliest thing he had ever seen. It was by no means extraordinary, it was in no way a fashion statement or elegant, it was a simple, peasant-like - border line muggle-like- woollen cap.

"Tada! I did, " she gleamed before showing him another one, "For both of us." it was only then that he noticed the finer details about the caps, each had a customised trait. One of the caps was completely green, and in the centre was a woollen heart in yellow, while the other had a yellow base and a green heart in the centre- same design, inverted colours.

"Oh" his insult stopped before it could pour out, luckily the gears in his head had worked fast enough for it to click, their house colours and if he knew her like the back of his hand, which he did, she was going to give him the ghastly yellow one with the green heart and keep the green one with the yellow heart for herself.

"This one" Turning her upper body towards him, her hand reached up to his hair, fingers running through his hair, his eyes instinctively closing at the tender action, letting her touch and mess about his neatly styled hair, anyone else would've been burnt to death, but she wasn't just anyone. He hummed at her little comment about liking his new haircut, his bangs adding a nice flair to his aura, whatever that meant. A few minutes in and he had forgotten why she had begun to gently comb through his hair, basking in the oh-so-needed attention he had woken up early in the morning in the first place for, the need of attention that had him trudging through the damp, cold forest all the way to her, in their little corner, their little lake, just to be with her. An affectionate sensation faded away when he felt something warm sit atop his head, covering his ears, though the slightly itchy sensation forced him to snap his eyes open.

"There." tying up the two strings attached to each end of the earpiece, into a pretty bow she moved back to admire her work. His face had turned warmer, not because of the itchy woollen cap, but her little gesture, her look of admiration as if he were the prettiest thing in the world.

"Why...is it...yellow?" looking at anything but her face he mumbled out a question, he knew which one was his before she had even worded it out, but he couldn't figure out the ideology.

"Well" putting on her cap, leaving the strings undone, she smiled at him, "Because my heart is surrounded by you, everywhere I look, I see things that remind me of you like take this place, it's quiet and peaceful, and it's ours, I found this place because it reminded me of you, how you like quiet places, places where you are free from prying eyes, everywhere I go, I see you, like this lake, it's like I'm looking into your eyes, the way it sparkles under the sun reminds me of how your eyes twinkle in potions class when we learn something new, or how when we go to the library, the section way at the back, with the books no one touches, reminds me of the ample knowledge you have on topics I couldn't even think of, how you're so much smarter than everyone, yet, no one approaches you for help out of hesitance, just how no one goes at the back old isle." her eyes caught how a small smile had made its way on his face, how he was now holding onto her hand again, "That's why my heart is surrounded by you. I hope...yours is surrounded by me." peaking up at him, as he turned his face around, hiding his expressions from her, a part of her wanted to tease him for being shy, but perhaps that was for another time. Instead, she settled back down after hearing a faint whisper, "Of course, mine too, is surrounded by you, silly girl."

"Good." with that she let go of his hand and went back to colouring, letting a comfortable silence settle between the two.

It took him a good ten minutes to calm down, her little confession had his chest hammering against the walls of his chest, demanding to be set free so it could nestle in the warm, tender palm of hers, all pretty and all hers. He knew his palm was sweaty against hers, and he prayed to God that she wouldn't continue with her teasing, knowing fully well he'd either snap in retaliation or just run away to cry in joy somewhere in a corner. The noise of his pesky, beating heart rang in his ears, constantly reminding him of his undying love for her. After the ringing dyed out his attention turned towards the scratching sound, noticing the bold choice of colours she was using to colour the unrealistic flower, his curiosity no longer being confined by his sense of logic as it slipped out,

"Why are you colouring?"

"It's therapeutic."

"Colouring like a child ?"

"Hmm, it's designed for an older audience."

"So colouring is a nice way to relax?"

"Mhmmm..." Pulling out another colour she glanced at him, "What do you do to relax?"

What did he do to relax? Most of the time he'd be too frustrated with his father and grades to even care to relax. If he did ever get a moment of peace, it was with her. As she had mentioned before, he was surrounded by her, his senses were flooded with her presence, he'd be thinking about her more often these days, perhaps because winter break was upon them. Winterbreak meant that the two would have to part, he'd go back home to his cold mansion and she'd go back to her loving parents. Parents who knew he existed, unlike his own, who had no idea who she was or if she existed, perhaps if he could build the courage this time, he might tell them, he was after all in his 6th year.

"Draco?"

"I sketch." the words left him sooner than he expected, it wasn't his fault though, he was too distracted by her curious eyes, her inviting scent, her warm and tender aura, his brain would often short-circuit around her, and this was one of those times.

"Ah...that's nice, I've never seen any of your sketches before." she giggled, once again letting go of his hand to turn to her bag, missing the way he shrugged with a "Burn them afterwards."

"Well" turning to him she handed him her sketchbook and pencils, "Don't burn this one, I wanna keep it safe and close to me." she smiled at his surprised eyes, adding in a little "Please" Much to his pleasure, for she knew that would make him all putty and it did.

A few beats of silence later, all that could be heard was the gentle sounds of nature waking up around them, the sun ever so slowly waltzing up higher into the sky, trying to own the cold floor with its glow and warmth within the winter sky. The birds would often change the tune around them, from a soft melody to a high-pitched orchestra of chirps, much to their pleasure, this was what he loved most about spending time with her, everything would be so pleasant, so calming and so warm, caressing his soul with such a tender delicate touch, allowing him to bask in her presence, a feeling he wanted to lounge in for almost all of eternity if it were possible.

Ever so often she'd notice him glance at her, then look ahead, unsure of whether he wanted to ask her something, or tell her. Truth be told, she had been meaning to ask him something, something about them, but perhaps she was too afraid to do so, afraid that it would scare him away. It took so long for him to open up to her, even after they had become an official couple, at least official enough for their close friends to know, but she knew his parents were not aware of her presence. She never brought it up, even after she had introduced him to hers, admiring how he was able to hold up a conversation with her father, gushing over the way he was being forced to eat more by her mother after he had complimented her cooking. She thanked him with her whole being when he had told her how he felt about her home that night, when he lay next to her, snuggled under the covers with her on her cramped single bed in matching pyjamas, "It isn't special, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world...it's warm...and nice...mine is...cold. I like it here, I like being here with you."

A part of her wanted to ask him if he'd ever want to be with her outside of school, or what would happen to them after their school years came to an end. Would their relationship cease to exist? Would their love turn into a bundle of memories they'd turn to in their darkest times? Would she just be his secret lover he was destined to leave? Perhaps she felt this way due to the upcoming winter break, all these questions finally bottling up to the max, ready to spill over. But she couldn't, she had to be careful, for she knew no matter how cold or tough he would act, he was but a fragile soul, always yearning for the approval of his parents, for their love and admiration, especially his father's, one he barely received. So, she had to be careful and phrase it properly, because even if he feared his father, she was terrified of the man, she had seen him only a handful of times at school and if there was one thing she was sure about was that other than muggles, he hated Hufflepuffs as well. Maybe their love was short-lived, maybe she should prepare herself for the day he'd let her go, because in this situation it was not the "It's not you it's me", since it wasn't him, he was perfect in all and every sense, but it was her if she wasn't sorted in Hufflepuff, she was from a more prominent family if she was...perfect like him, maybe, then just maybe, their fates could have intertwined till eternity, if only the stars had, for once, listened to her and not decided for her, it only.

"Oh" his gasp broke her train of thought, "I'm late for practice!" he shot up, looking down at her, who was staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights, face flushed, her cap now covering her forehead, as she blinked up at him. Letting out a chuckle he bent down to brush his slightly chapped lips against hers, fingers gently gripping her chin, tilting her head to look up at him, "I've made up my mind, my honeybee, come with me this winter break, I...I don't know what to expect, but I know for sure I want you in my life, whether anyone likes it or not." With that, he knelt one last time to give her a proper kiss, "Finish your colouring, you've been on the same petal for an hour."

"Draco! Wait!" she called out, only for him to turn his head and give her that heart-stopping smile, winking at her before running off to the schoolyards, not waiting for her to speak.

"You're still wearing the....cap." she sighed before letting out a nervous chuckle, well then, at least one thing was clear, his parents may not need to wait till winter break to find out about their boy's heart belonging to a Hufflepuff, especially when his entire Quidditch team would see him in his woollen cap. Shaking her head, she turned to grab the sketchbook flipping it over to look at what he had been sketching, a soft gasp leaving her lips, as her fingers dug into the paper, eyes turning glossy at the sight. For more than an hour, he had sat there, sketching her, from every dimple to strand of hair, the details added in just made her wonder who he had sketched, for this ethereal being could not have been her. That is until she read the little sign off underneath, "My precious honeybee."

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novaursa · 1 month ago

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A Flame Torn (broken)

- Summary: Your father breaks Aegon, to avenge your broken heart.

- Paring: cousin!reader/Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: unworthy

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @callsignwidow

The air around the God’s Eye was thick with mist and tension, the sun a pale disk veiled behind gray clouds. On the shores of the great lake, two dragons faced each other, their wings spread wide, casting long shadows across the water. The sky above roiled with the promise of a storm, as if the gods themselves were watching the confrontation that would reshape the fate of House Targaryen.

Maegor the Cruel sat astride Balerion the Black Dread, his armor gleaming black as the shadow of his dragon. The sight of the monstrous dragon, its scales dark as night and its eyes like pools of hot coals, was enough to strike fear into the heart of any man. But across from him, mounted upon the smaller yet valiant Quicksilver, was Aegon the Uncrowned, his silver-gold hair caught in the wind, his expression resolute.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the distant cry of a lone bird. Then Aegon’s voice cut through the silence, carrying across the water with a desperate determination. “Uncle, listen to reason! We do not have to spill each other’s blood today. I offer you peace—an alliance that will strengthen our family and unite our claims. Marry me to Y/N. Let me be her husband, and I will support your reign.”

Maegor’s eyes, cold and unfeeling, narrowed at Aegon’s words. He had anticipated many things, but not this—a plea for peace from the nephew who had once sought his throne. “You think you can mend what you broke, boy?” he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You think you can repair the heart you shattered with a few sweet words?”

Aegon’s grip tightened on Quicksilver’s reins, desperation flickering in his eyes. “I severed my betrothal to Rhaena when my father still lived! I did it for her, for Y/N, and for the hope that one day she might forgive me. I know I have done wrong, but this... this is a chance to make it right. Let me stand beside her. Let us unite our blood for the realm’s sake.”

Maegor’s expression twisted into a sneer. “You will never have her, Aegon. Not after what you did. And not after the way you grovel now, begging for scraps like a dog. My daughter deserves more than you—a weakling who hides behind words and hopes for mercy.”

Aegon’s face hardened, a steely resolve replacing the plea in his voice. “You claim to care for her, yet you refuse her happiness. I will not let you destroy all that is left of our family’s hope.”

Maegor’s laughter echoed across the lake, a dark, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Aegon’s spine. “You think yourself a hero, but you are a fool. You speak of family, yet you challenge me, the rightful king, for a throne you are too weak to hold.” He raised his hand, and Balerion bellowed, the sound reverberating like the roar of an erupting volcano. “Very well, then, boy. If you wish to play the hero, let us see how you fare in the flames.”

Without another word, Maegor spurred Balerion forward, the Black Dread surging into the sky with a terrifying speed. Aegon followed, Quicksilver’s wings beating rapidly as they ascended above the God’s Eye. The two dragons circled each other like dark stars, their riders grim and silent, preparing for the battle that could only end in blood.

Fire filled the air as Balerion unleashed a torrent of flame, the heat so intense that the waters of the lake below began to steam. Quicksilver darted through the air, smaller and faster, evading the worst of the flames, but the heat singed its silver wings. Aegon urged his dragon higher, guiding Quicksilver with precision, but each time he drew closer, Maegor drove them back with Balerion’s powerful dives and strikes.

“You were never meant for the throne, Aegon!” Maegor shouted, his voice carrying across the sky. “You do not have the strength to rule, nor the spine to keep it!”

“And you will never understand what it means to protect the realm!” Aegon shouted back, his voice hoarse with rage and pain. “All you know is blood and terror!”

Their dragons clashed, talons raking against scales, jaws snapping in a frenzy of rage. Quicksilver bit at Balerion’s neck, but the larger dragon swung its massive head, sending Quicksilver spiraling through the air. For a moment, it looked as if Aegon might recover, but Maegor directed Balerion down with a savage strike, and Balerion’s jaws closed around Quicksilver’s wing.

With a sickening crack, Quicksilver’s wing was torn apart. The smaller dragon’s roar of agony filled the air as it fell, its body twisting as it plummeted toward the lake below. Aegon’s grip on his saddle slipped, his face a mask of desperation as he struggled to regain control.

Balerion followed, a dark shadow against the stormy sky. With a final, vicious strike, Balerion’s massive maw closed around Quicksilver’s neck, ending the smaller dragon’s struggle in an instant. The two dragons, locked together in a deadly embrace, crashed into the waters of the God’s Eye, sending up a massive wave that rippled across the shore.

Aegon, mortally wounded, lay in the water, gasping as he tried to rise, blood pouring from the wounds inflicted by the fall and Balerion’s might. His eyes, filled with pain and a lingering hope, sought out Maegor as his uncle dismounted from Balerion’s back, the massive dragon looming behind him like the shadow of death.

Maegor stalked through the shallows, his expression cold as he looked down at the prince he had bested. “You speak of love, Aegon. Of peace. But you were always too weak to understand what it truly costs. You were never worthy of her.”

Aegon’s breath came in wet, shuddering gasps, his body trembling from the pain of his wounds. “And... you think... you know her heart?” he managed to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. “She... will never forgive you... for this.”

Maegor’s lips curled into a dark smile, his eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction. “She does not need to. She will understand, in time, that this is the only way. You were a lesson, Aegon. A lesson in what happens to those who overreach.”

With that, Maegor turned and walked away, leaving Aegon to his final breaths in the cold waters of the God’s Eye. The ripples of his passing spread out across the lake, mingling with the blood of the fallen dragon, a dark stain against the gray waters.

The healers who rushed to the shore found nothing but the broken body of a once-proud prince, his spirit fading with the last light of the dying sun.

And somewhere in the distance, you feel a chill wind brush against your skin as you wait, knowing that your father will soon return with victory—but at the cost of something that was once precious, something you will never be able to reclaim.

#fire and blood #fire and blood x reader #aegon the uncrowned #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #asoif/got #a song of ice and fire

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pennyellee · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

“I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin

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artsandculture · 3 months ago

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The Blue Rigi, Sunrise (1842) 🎨 Joseph Mallord William Turner 🏛️ Tate Britain 📍 London, United Kingdom

The Blue Rigi depicts the Rigi mountain in central Switzerland, viewed from the southwest across Lake Lucerne. The "Queen of Mountains" is blue in the early morning light, wreathed by veils of morning mist. The tonality is built up with layers of color wash, with fine detail added through cross-hatching with a fine brush. Two “stars”, of which the brighter one often erroneously identified as Venus, glint in the yellow morning sky above, where paint has been scratched out with a fingernail to reveal the bright white ground. In the left foreground, drawn in with pen and brown ink, ducks can be seen rising from the lake, alarmed by a gunshot and chased by two dogs, to the right foreground.

#The Blue Rigi #1842 #Joseph Mallord William Turner #Tate Britain #London #United Kingdom #watercolor #watercolor on paper #painting #Romanticism #english #art #artwork #art history

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iceywolf24 · 6 months ago

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I love how since the Old Gods are linked to many elements they represent a different quality of Bran

"The stone is strong, Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones." - Bran VII ACOK

"The Strongest trees are rooted in the darkest places of the world" - Bran III ADWD

Earth represents growth and strength showing how Bran can endure anything.

"Rivers turn and twist," Bran said uncertainly, "and where there's lakes and hills, you need to go around." - Bran I ADWD

Water represents fluidity as shown in Bran's abilities to inhabitant a hundred skins and adapt.

"Who do you think sends the wind, if not the gods?" - Bran VI AGOT

Winds represent words, communication and comfort.

"And through the mist of centuries the broken boy could only watch" - Bran III ADWD

A crescent moon was floating in a dark sky, half-obscured by mist, like an eye peering through a veil of silk

He had never seen the godswood like this, though—grey and ghostly, filled with warm mists and floating lights and whispered voices that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. - The Prince of Winterfell ADWD

Mist represents time but also invisibility for Bran.

Fire consumes, but cold preserves - Samwell III AFF

"The gods have turned against us," old Lord Locke was heard to say in the Great Hall. "This is their wroth. A wind as cold as hell itself and snows that never end. We are cursed." - The Turncloak ADWD

Ice preserves like the Old Gods preserve the forgotten past.

Ice can also be a storm sent to bring vengeance or justice.

#asoiaf #bran stark #old gods #asoiaf symbolism #bran symbolism

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fairy-verse · 2 months ago

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More lumin please

With the silver light of a full moon shining bright the crystals of blue, purple, and pink cast glittering specks upon the forest surrounding them, creating an ethereal glow as trees of near similar colour glow in the night. Here no trolls are roaming the grassy floor, but instead, unicorns live here in their silvery white splendour. Gracefully they roam as fairies of autumn flutter about them, dancing and casting their lovely magic around them, yet one fairy sits atop a mushroom tree of various colours, watching in near silence as he softly hums a gentle tune, legs swinging back and forth, back and forth.

There sits Lumin, faerling of autumn and spring,

now grown into a beautiful fairy of mischief and grace.

Secrets untold are his to keep, for wants and wishes are not his to give,

but friends of darkness and deep are there by his side,

and ever a smile, whether big or small, is painted upon his face.

Lovely is he, fair of bone and soft of summoned flesh, with a dress of spiders’ silk cast in ghostly blue and green.

“Home is where your heart’s song resides, Lumin. You should return to her,” spoke a fairy of early autumn, dancing upon the light of the moon.

“Return to her. Even we can hear her song of longing and love,” sang a fairy of late autumn, twirling in the shimmering light of glittering crystals.

“Not yet,” hummed Lumin, and sliding down from the mushroom tree, he took flight as fairies of early and late autumn continued to dance around him, through the crystal forest, and over the glittering lake. Beautiful they are, yet Lumin cast them no second glances as higher and higher he rose, keeping his lovely eyes upon the night sky.

Longing is in his soul for his love, but not yet, he cannot return to her yet. The call of the world still holds him tight, and the sights of meadows and hills still pull him in, drawing him ever closer to deep mists and haunting howls. He cannot understand why he is this way, why the island pulls him this way and that, but he cannot resist and must travel ever further, ever higher. Magic runs deep in his bones, and the veils of the world are for him to see and explore, revealing deeper and deeper layers.

“What is my purpose?” he hums to the wind, the mountains, the hills, and the forests. A season fairy he is not; born from two powers greater than all other creatures upon this island as he is. “Am I of a different nature? Born to perform a greater deed that I have not yet discovered?”

The wind pulls at his wings, and he is carried away, floating seamlessly across the land. Beneath him there is wonder and beauty, above him are mysterious secrets hidden behind a dark veil, and before him are adventures and queer magic. Which way should he take?

━━━━━ ✧.* ━━━━━

“Were I your mother then I would have pulled you right back home to where your love is. How foolish of you to be away from her for so long,” said Mrs. Spruce, a stout and proud wife of Mr. Spruce, a wise owl of fairy island.

“Were I your child then you’d no longer be the way you are, Mrs. Spruce,” said Lumin, sitting upon a thick cobweb covered in years of dust and old pollen.

“And how would I be then, if I may ask?”

“You wouldn’t be so grumpy, for one thing, and you wouldn’t try to eat me and the other fairies, too.”

“You are still as rude as ever!”

“I am honest,” said Lumin, smiling sweetly, speaking with a soft voice.

“Honest like your mother, and just as unsettling as your father,” Mrs. Spruce huffed and hooted.

“Where is Mr. Spruce?” asked Lumin, ignoring the rants of Mrs. Spruce. “I wish to speak with him.”

“He is not here.”

“Then where?”

“I do not know. He left last night to meet with Adalinde, something about speaking with her about recent whispers in the wind. I cannot recall what he told me, I was too upset about him leaving so soon, and in his condition no less. Old fool. He will be the death of me soon.”

“Adalinde… Is she the roaming stoat of Singing Hills?”

“Yes, and a very polite stoat she is, although rather reckless in her travels near the big folk settlements.”

“Perhaps she has news of the big folk? I hear rumours that some of them are planning to build something dangerous.”

“What? Now what could they possibly build that could be of any danger to us,” hooted Mrs. Spruce, spinning her head back and forth in a mimic of a shake.

“I do not know; it is just something I heard from a few spring fairies, but whether what they say is true or not…” Lumin hummed, swinging his legs as he fluttered up to land upon the wood of the hollowed tree. “I have spied on the big folk too. They say many odd things, things I do not understand, but the things they have built without magic… It is marvellous to see. The villages don’t make much, but that walled city—”

“Clearfog City? Foolish fairy! You mustn’t go there, do you hear? That is the place where the fairy hunters live. A whole guild of them, I hear. A dangerous place for a fairy to go.”

“I have only been there once, Mrs. Spruce, and none of the folk saw me. I promise.”

Mrs. Spruce hooted. “Nevertheless, you should never return. If your mother knew—”

“Mother does not know, and she never will,” said Lumin, and he walked silently towards the opening of Mr. and Mrs. Spruce’s home, humming all the while. “Please, do not tell her. She has much to think about already with early autumn already being here. I do not wish to add to her worries.”

“Hoot, very well, I shall not tell, but you must then promise to stay out of trouble!”

Lumin smiled, wide and happily. “I shall try.”

#aufairyverse #utmv #ask for the fairy #lumin the fairy #fairyverse lore

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linksystemfailure · 4 months ago

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Build a headspace series

A mountainous forest region

images from unsplash, used free canva templates

Name ideas: Woodland/misty/foggy basin, Forgotten Woods, Veiled Woods...

About: A woodland wonderland, hills surrounding a forested basin, various rivers winding down to meet at a central lake. Cabins are scattered about the area, typically connected by accessible pathways, however some remain disconnected. Zip lines and gondolas bring people up and down the mountains, mainly for entertainment. Caves and crevices dig deeply into the mountains.

Climate: Cool, misty most mornings and nights. Snows in the autumn and winter. Rains often throughout the year.

Services: cabins, well-made paths, bathrooms, hot springs, lake ferries, cafes, restaurants, a tavern or two, gondolas, zip lines, white water rafting, kayak hire, library/book swap.

Senses:

Smells of pine or other woods, rotting leaves and wood, coal and wood fires from the cabins. The fresh smell of the earth after rain, moisture from the mist filling your lungs.

Sounds of birds, perhaps woodpeckers (depends on what kind of birds you want here. Bellbirds are a nice one), wind rustling the trees, branches creaking in the wind, the occasional footstep and crunch of leaves or snow. People cutting wood in the distance.

Lighting is not too bright, dark in the deeper parts of the woods. Mist can make seeing difficult, dull lights light the walkways. The sun filters through the treeline.

Blackberries are sweet and tart, earthy mushrooms, the air is crisp as you breath in. Hot drinks of your liking, pine cone candy, hearty soups or stews.

Ground soft beneath the feet, wooden pathways slippery, stay on the safe parts. In winter the wooden walkways are frozen over, fun slides. Tree bark rough against the hands, cold air prickling the skin. River's waters are freezing year round and refreshing.

Aesthetics: dark naturalism, gloomcore cabincore, dark paradise, cryptidcore

Sub-area ideas:

Cafe and book swap

A cozy cafe where you can read and have food and drinks of your choosing. There may be several of these in the area, or just the one, depending on the size. There's a good hangout spaces for quieter people wanting to get out of the house.

Central lake

The lake in the center of the region. May be dotted with cabins, with a ferry across. Surrounded by woods. In full winter lake may freeze over enough to skate on. Perhaps in the depths of the lake, underwater species could make their home. Plenty of nice picnic spots.

Hot springs spa

A great place to relax, natural hot springs outside along with indoor private ones for those who want it. Sauna rooms and massage rooms also a good idea, with a place to get something to eat and drink as well. All sort of aromatherapy items and soaps are available.

#headspace #build a headspace #pro endo #endo safe #southedge

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annbourbon · 2 months ago

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Liminal Spaces

So I wanted to talk about liminal spaces before heading towards my next post, cause things are gonna get trickier. Liminal spaces, are in essence an empty space, something in between.

Think about physical places that are in between like bridges, crossroads, rivers, lakes, beaches, hallways. Corridors, doorways. Graveyards. A forest glade, some valleys.

And when talking about time, because liminal spaces are not only physical but also mental state. Think about the way you feel or think around dawn, dusk, sunset, afternoon and midnight which are perfect examples of liminal spaces through time. Clouds. Yes, clouds (Please note how Saeran wanted to be represented as a cloud) are also considered liminal. Windows and, mirrors.

So why? Why am I talking about liminal spaces when I should be talking about the Cheritzverse? Well, because it does tie.

The word liminal comes from limen. Which translates from latin into umbral. It is meant to be something between destinations. A transition. Usually making the person feel like it’s experiencing an uncanny valley sort of feeling.

There’s a feeling of eerie loneliness, something that shouldn’t be but it is. That’s why you feel weird when you have to stay after classes, when everything is eerily silent. Classrooms are also liminal spaces, but not because of the place, but because of what they represent: Time is passing by. Time that has stopped. Something in between.

It does not have to be physical to be part of a transition. As long as it’s an area or a state of mind where you feel, it has no purpose, or that it has lost the original purpose, it’s a liminal space. They’re threshold-like.

And here’s where things start to get interesting.

They also exist as magical spaces. People know them as “The In-Between” or “The Otherworld” so we even have celebrations around those liminal spaces: Samhain/Halloween being the most popular worldwide speaking.

Samhain it’s known as a celebration where the veil between this world and the other, is very thin, so thin spirits, fae, and dead, can cross.

Isn’t it curious that crossroads are also perfect to make deals with demons? Nothing here’s a coincidence, because these places/spaces are also great for divination, meditation, spirit work, and astral travel.

And this is where the fairies live. Here, there, nowhere, everywhere. In a corner, in middle of the mist…. their world overlaps with ours. According to mythology and traditional stories, they are usually in transit places. Because apparently these places hold certain type of energy that makes them just right for them.

Through a different frequency, the only ones who can see it are those with certain gifts and lucky ones.

From crossroads, highways, bridges, and even forest glades. Fairies seem to root for something in-between. Do you guys remember how I said to you last time that water it’s conductive? Yes, they can be found near the ocean, lakes, rivers, fountains, waterfalls and even, hang onto it: Islands. (I'm thinking about Jumin's, Saeran's, June's and in some cases Harry's too~)

In the cities and our houses they can be find around the stairs, wardrobes, the stairs and corners. See how they're basically liminal spaces?

According to my fairy bible (see bibliography), some people say its on The Hollows, the prehistoric mounts on Ireland where the Tuatha Danann existed once. The creatures where also known as Sidhe. Another concept is called Tir-nan-Og, a magic city located in the west, across the sea. Or so they say~

Have you ever felt like, you shouldn’t be in a certain place? That you’re not welcomed? Or you’re being watched? There are several places around the houses or old buildings where you will feel it’s cold. Places where you feel a change of energy and it’s better to avoid them. Some places will try to lure you, so it depends.

And that's another thing about fairy worlds, their logic it’s different from ours, which means we’re not meant to understand everything or make it fit, because it will never be. According to my fairy bible (please understand I’m roughly translating this from spanish) there are some cities which you can find or meet through dreams.

Gorias. City of Air and East.

Finias. City of Fire and South.

Murias. Water and West.

Falias. Earth and North.

See? This does not only ties directly with The Doll Room in Nameless and The Dandelion Room we ( @smol-grey-tea and @cherrychipheart ) apparently cannot open~ but also its purpose.

Plus it's also tied with the planets, but we'll leave it here and I'll explain that in my next post♡

⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆

Bibliography:

The Fairy Bible by Teresa Moorey

⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆

Links:

♡ Faerie Cities

♡ How Space/Time Magic Works

♡ Liminal Space (Wiki)

♡ Moon-LightFaerie Post about Liminal Spaces (This is gold! I'm following her ASAP♡)

⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆

Credits to:

@sapphireicecream

@moon-lightfaerie

#annabourbon #danteann #tumblr girl #girl #cheritz #cheritzverse #dandelion wishes brought to you #dandelion cheritz #dandelion #nameless #nameless cheritz #nameless the one thing you must recall #mystic messenger #mysme #cheritz ssum #the ssum #cheritz the ssum #liminal spaces #liminal

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cosmosoracle · 1 year ago

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"Hoyt? Is everything alright?"

It's been a while since I and Zinnya heard the noises from his room. I took my time to get ready and come out of the room compared to her; with some meditation, my oracular curse is also back in control, with just some minor fatigue and excessive glowing from my body. The waving of my skirt and hair all around me could easily be mistaken as flowing movements because of the water. After all, that's also what made it show so much less when I was younger, in the lake. But, above all, now I can swim normally without the collateral flaw of risking to float up because of my lighter weight. And now that I'm fully ready, before going out, I decide to knock on our assassin's door.

"Uh... yes. Much better than an hour ago, thank you. The loss of the book had me shaken, to say the least."

"May I come in?"

I only spend few minutes with him. He seems to be back to his usual demeanor, already busy with some kind of reverse engineering project. "I don't know how long it will take, but we're going to need stronger potions to sustain ourselves from now on."

"Are you equipped with everything you need for it?"

"Yes, don't worry about it."

"Well, in that case... have a good work and afternoon! I will be back soon, and if you need anything, knock on the door." I already know he won't, but I won't let him forget he's got my support. With that said, I swim outside of his room and close the door behind me, then head directly out to the orphanage nearby.

When we first saw the big building, cut in half by the current that divides the freshwater side of Outsea from the saltwater one, it was heavily guarded and impossible to approach. After we spoke to Cila and found her completely favorable to my cause, we also had permission to swim in and meet the little inhabitants of the place. One of them is called Onimia: she's one of the two survivors who came from the Lake of Mists and Veils mere days ago and escaped the clutches of the Vitalia. Lidya, her younger sister, prefers to roam freely through the freshwater area and we never had a chance to find her; but I had quite a few occasions to approach the older one. When I find her, she rushes to me.

Rumors about the fight with Roktor had already spread around the city - that was much quicker than I expected. Even the kids seem to know; and Onimia isn't naive nor blind, and the marks on my body speak very clearly. "I heard someone even died..." she murmurs with tears in her big, golden eyes. Ouch. How could I be so reckless. She just lost her caretaker, the man that carried her and Lydia to safety here in Outsea, and I was about to prolong her nightmare. I hug her tight to it, stroking her hair and letting her lean on me, trying to transmit her as much calmness as I can manage despite the little stab.

"Don't worry, little one... it is true, there was a fight, but everything went fine in the end and even the one who died managed to get back to life. I told you, I came here with my friends to ask help for our lake. And we did it! Outsea will help us defeat that monster, and you won't have to worry about such danger ever again when you come back home."

She seems relieved to the words, but also holds me tighter. "I don't want to go back there if it's dangerous. I very much prefer it here." I chuckle to that. "Of course!"

I cautiously shift the conversation to other topics, and I also catch the chance to inform her about our early departure. "We will have to leave for a while, but when the time comes we will all be back, and I'll come right back to visit you." Around half an hour flows by like it's nothing, and I find myself quite at ease. I grew up in a similar structure as well, and I feel pretty comfortable around the young ones... it kind of feels like home.

But unfortunately, I cannot afford much more time out. With the adrenaline dropping, I'm starting to feel the exhaustion on my body pretty clearly. So at some point I let her go to spend more time with the other kids, and I move on to my next destination, the Fountain, again.

~ ☆ ~ ☆

When I reach the Fountain, Opak is still working to fix the mess Roktor caused. I approach him carefully, watching over his doing and fidgeting with my hands a little before greeting him again. "Am I disturbing you?" But he simply stops for now, and I have his attention. It is actually him catching the chance to apologize to me as well for what happened.

"For what importance it may hold or not... I am sorry I couldn't intervene through the fight. I couldn't convince Roktor to back off when he challenged you, and I couldn't do anything but call the others when things got bad. I'm not as strong as some of the other Generals; and yet, what I did couldn't be enough."

"It's fine... I don't hold any grudge against you, and I know you were watching over us while we were fighting. I saw you cast. You could have just turned to the other way. Besides, I know fighting isn't your calling; mine brought me on this path, and I am aware of its risks."

"It is certainly different, yes. Mine is a quiet calling, while yours... not so much. But each one of us has their own."

"Speaking about it, I actually have come with a request specifically for you." I stop and make myself small in my shoulders while I wait for an answer, then I raise my eyes and see him nodding, listening. I sigh and take off my pirate hat. I retrieve the little blue flag pin that has us recognized as Heroes of Deadbridge under the rule of the new Blue Marquis, then I turn it in my hands...

"You see... this is not the first time I risk to not open my eyes again, and dying a second time really put things in perspective, more than before. I... want to pay respect to the people that fell in the lake, with the little I have left of them to be remembered with." I look up at him again, melancholy and regret in my eyes. "When I found this hat, I was exploring a shipwreck with a friend of mine, one that just recently fell near my town. We found personal belongings and clothes intact, but we found no bodies nearby, and we were naive enough to not ask ourselves why. Now I know that these people from the surface died to the Vitalia as well, and who knows how many more. So I want to leave you this hat, to remember the ones from the surface..."

"This spear, which belonged to the same fighter that wore this armor I have, for the fallen from Jaha..."

"And some of these seashells, for the rest of the people from the whole Lake."

I hold the symbols I just named close to me, waiting for an answer, and I see him narrowing his eyes. I give a sad smile. "I don't know if you can do anything at all with these, but they're all I have..."

"This is not how I usually work, but it doesn't cost me anything. I'll do what I can."

I sigh in relief and hand him over some of the belongings I was most attached to. I am sad to leave them behind, but it's for the best. Many more people need to remember those people, not just me. Many more must know... they shall not be gone with me, if things come to worst again. I can't help to keep acting for that purpose. I need to be ready for whatever comes next, and I keep repeating it to myself: I have to be ready.

"Thank you so." I hold my arms with the hands, and the grip gets tight a few moments later, as my thoughts flow out in words. "I don't want them to be forgotten, going to the other side is... well..." I take a moment, trying to find the right way to continue. "You know, I was even called an anomaly by someone there..."

"I can understand why, at least from my point of view." I'm surprised by such a prompt response and refrain from continuing, blinking my eyes and tilting the head in surprise. He takes a breath and continues, accompanying the speech with his free arm. "As I was saying, I'm not that strong, and I don't know any mean to bring people back to life. Your friends asked me if I could do anything about it, so I suppose they're also unaware; and even if Cila is a very powerful priestess, I'm pretty sure she's also unprovided of solutions to something as drastic as death. And yet, somehow, here you are. You opened your eyes again, after I saw you being eaten by Roktor with my eyes. Of course, this makes you an anomaly."

"Well... yes, of course it makes sense..." I glance at the bright diamonds at the center of the Fountain. I recall Pharasma's words again, about how this gift is something so rarely allowed. There are so many questions left unanswered... but I can't bring myself to talk about them with Opak, not anymore. This is going to be enough. Soon after, I part ways with him, and he recommends to be careful this time, and to have a safe trip.

I find myself alone in my room, finally able to rest a little. I can't sleep though; my mind keeps wandering through the enormous amount of events I just went through in so little time. I focus so much on the place where I supposedly spoke to the brothers, and I can't help but assume that this placr and the sphere I saw being filled with Black Tears where I met Arshea the last time are somehow connected. I keep focusing on it... ans at some point, I get a vision that lasts for just few seconds.

I'm standing on a long road of blue and violet hues, large and dotted in white, which runs to the horizon. On its sides, many other thinner paths branch and proceed straight ahead in their directions: the first one on my left is white, and the others all follow similarly light hues; the first one on my right is black, and it opens a similar series of parallel dark lines. No one walks with me, and I can't turn back. I can't help but wonder what it means...

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cheeseoburger · 6 months ago

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Future paradox Meloetta Fakemon

Iron melody

Types: Normal/Ice

S: A musical device resembling Meloetta that's featured in a dubious magazine and it's said to be from the future

V: It's capable of singing in a way that causes physical pain on it's enemies if it so desires. Thre's almost no data about this pokemon

Magazine:

Iron melody: A megaphone possesed by an ice ghost?!

Rumors talk about a megaphone possesed by the soul of a Meloetta roams close to the Casseroya Lake, followed by many souls that increase in number every night

Even tho it resembles Meloetta it's uncapable of dancing

Stats: 590

HP: 80

Atk: 160

Def: 70

SpAtk: 60

SpDef: 70

Spd: 140

Ability: Quark Drive

Signature move: Frigid encore

Power: 30,70 Accuracy:100 PP:15

Type: Ice Category: physical

Extra info: Sound, priority+2,-7, hit 1 fails in psychic terrain

Target: all

Effect: Attacks 2 times

moves it can learn:

all sound moves; all nondance/nonpsychic based moves meloetta learns minus rain dance and sunny day; electric terrain, avalanche, ice shard, icycle crash, Sheer cold, mist, haze, freeze-dry, snowscape, aurora veil, all non-signature wind based moves

ok so some notes here, the reason it can use phisical moves an why it's so good at physical attack it's because it attacks using the note arm things after using the megaphone body to propel them, making the songs physical this is a rough sketch of how she attacks

think of it as the megaphone being a gun and the notes being the bullets but the bullets are part of her body so it's physical, that also makes all contact moves she uses make sense

and the ice's because no soul put into the songs because it's a machine and all that

#paradox pokemon #pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon violet #meloetta #fakemon

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felassan · 3 months ago

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Rook's Coffer.

The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

[link]

There is a lot of interesting stuff in here. 👁️

A coffer is a strongbox or small chest for holding valuables. The contents of the box is described as being Rook's "personal effects", the "tools of [their] resistance" (against the Evil Gods).

The Light-Up Lyrium Dagger

This is the dagger replica that BioWare had on display at their SDCC booth in a case. at the time we wondered if it glows (yes!) and whether it would be a merch item in the Gear Store or part of a collector's edition or something, and here we are. :D the name of the item confirms the idea that it's blue because blue lyrium (I wondered this here). the description on the Gear Store of the item reads:

"Its blade has torn the very fabric of the Veil."

and ~8 months ago I wrote,

"since we saw this image from the 2022 in-game cinematic and speculated that 1. this image shows Solas doing something to the Veil, and 2. the item he’s holding is the red lyrium idol in its ritual-blade form, what it’s reminded me of is the Subtle Knife from HDM (Pullman). Æsahættr cuts windows in the fabric between worlds; I wonder if the idol’s power as a magical ritual-blade is the ability to ‘cut’ through the 'fabric’ of the Veil (of reality), thereby tearing open the barrier that has been separating the two realms."

Cloth Map and Quiver

"Look to this illustrated map to learn about the world you defend."

First let's do the quiver. :>

A quiver to keep a map in is such a cute idea. going by the triangles, it's a replica of the quiver rogue Rooks store their arrows in in the game. ^^

Now the map.

Starting at the bottom right, where it all began~. Ferelden is depicted as a mabari (a symbol of Fereldan royalty), complete with kaddis. You can see the Brecilian Forest and the Imperial Highway snaking round Lake Calenhad. In the Frostback Mountains is the Inquisition’s hairy eyeball symbol, fittingly as that’s where Skyhold is located. North of the Arbor Wilds are the Dales, containing Dalish aravels. Orlais is portrayed as a reclining lion (the symbol of House Valmont is a lion). West and south of the lion are the Nahashin Marshes, the Abyssal Reach and the Tirashan. Across the sea from Ferelden is the landmark of Kirkwall, the Twins of Kirkwall (statues).

The north of the map is the most 👁️ tho, as DA:TV seems to be predominantly set in locales across northern Thedas. That part of the map has a lot of elements from the misted-out northern Thedas map from the Thedas Calls teaser trailer, only.. unmisted. :D we can see the Antivan city of Treviso with its spires and the Antivan Crows flying around Antiva. We can see the giant squid curling over Rivain, this time on a bed of treasure like gold and silver. West of the White Spire mountain is Arlathan Forest, with another aravel, ruins of the city of Arlathan, and floating rocks and floating ruins. in the sea south of Par Vollen is a Qunari dreadnought.

Tevinter is separated from Antiva by the Hundred Pillars. the way they look in this map, they remind me of Drumheller Alberta, where Mark Darrah once mentioned that DA:TV devs went to capture reference material for the game. in this post I wrote of the Tevinter coast that "much of the center is entangled in tentacle-like or snake-like tendrils". in this new map we can clearly see that they are snakes. makes sense, Tevinter is a nest of vipers metaphorically and snakes are part of Tevinter iconography. We can see the city of Minrathous and my all-time favorite guy, Floating Building. Weisshaupt is represented by a griffon and for the Anderfels we have Our Lady of the Anderfels (the statue of Andraste). to the north, Tallo's Eye and the Donarks.

This part of the map is potentially super exciting:

This is a dwarven statue underground in the Deep. the location suggests this is representing Kal-Sharok south of the Anderfels (this is not anywhere near Orzammar, and Orzammar isn't represented on the map by a drawing either). omggg. I really hope we visit Kal-Sharok in this game oh shttt

In the center of the map is Nevarra and the Silent Plains. this map depicts the Silent Plains and surrounds as being full of the ancient bones of giant creatures and giant skeletons. that's 👀 since we saw giant skeletons in Nevarra in the new trailer. we can also see the Grand Necropolis with its eerie green glow as its reaches go down into the ground. it's attended by two [giant?] necromanced skeletons. the gold doodads on their heads remind me of the skeletons we've seen Emmrich necromancing.

There don't appear to be any depictions or landmarks shown in Seheron or Par Vollen. :< and in this last bit of the map it's a bit hard to tell due to poorer image quality that this section of the map is shown in, but east of Rivain is the map compass and south of Rivain, south of Llomerynn, in the whirlpool.. is that an island with an eluvian on it? maybe this represents the Lighthouse and the pocket dimension it exists in? watery Fade imagery and all that.

(Thedas Calls trailer map images below for reference. you can see that 'landmarks' from in that trailer are on this new map)

(^ ignore the yellow lines in the Rivain squid cap ^^;)

Rook's Card Deck

"A set of cards depicting people and places from Rook's adventures."

Like the map, there's a lot in these too. first of all the art looks so beautiful and I'm psyched that cards/card-style art is returning in DA:TV, the tarot card art in DA:I was so cool and gave so much inspiration to the DA art community! some of the art is familiar to us, some is totally new.

in this last image we can see that among the cards is the art for the Solas print that came with the BioWare Gear Store exclusive variant of the artbook. the design for the back of the cards is similar to the box for Rook's coffer. for the others I think I'm going to identify them with letters so it makes talking about them easier. ^^ (image without key is above). 26 x 2 = looks like there are 52 cards total, if this image contains the whole set. (if I've mixed up any of my numbers or letters in the below, pls lmk so I can correct it!)

please keep in mind that these are just guesses for fun. [thanku to mime who helped me guess what each card could be :D]

A - Venatori? red like red lyrium and they're always messing with it, diamond shape like their new symbol (two), cult-like vibe, mage robe-vibe. the pointy hoods remind me of the figure in the background of Neve's card. (given the shape in the background, is Elgar'nan messing with them or are they working for him? they could be without knowing he's an elf) B - dragons, dragon fights? (looks like a giant toothy dragon maw bearing down on a party) C - F qunari Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. F qunari Inky for comparison) D - Harding companion card art from the Dragon Age website E - Veil Jumpers? gold, triangles, antler/halla-horn type pattern, looks like the person has a glowing gadget F - Grey Wardens? silver plate armor, Joining Chalice, shield with griffon wings on it G - Rogue Rook/rogue class (like there was a class card for each class for Inky in DA:I. Rogue inky) H - one gender of elf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. elf Inky cards for comparison) I - Arlathan Forest? it looks like it has ruins and floating rocks J - 'Fen'Harel' Solas from the in-game cinematic that we saw in this trailer K - Neve companion card art from the Dragon Age website L - Weisshaupt in the Anderfels (see this concept) M - Warrior Rook/warrior class (like there was a class card for each class for Inky in DA:I. Warrior inky) N - M qunari Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. M qunari Inky for comparison) O - undead, giant green glow skeletons? P - ? Q - Minrathous R - Lords of Fortune? they have Taash vibes. blue sea in the background, gold trinkets at their waist, swashbuckling vibe S - ? T - Emmrich companion card art from the Dragon Age website U - another gender of elf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. elf Inky cards for comparison) V - red lyrium darkspawn W - M dwarf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. M dwarf Inky for comparison) X - Bellara companion card art from the Dragon Age website Y - Elgar'nan from back in the day before being Blighted? bald like ancient elves sometimes are shown, maybe the orb is his foci. Z - ? not sure, but something bad and maybe red lyrium-related. also blood and maybe an eluvian in the background

[block character limit text break!]

1 - Ghilan'nain from back in the day before being Blighted? creepy tentacle-vibe hair. 2 - Mortalitasi / Mournwatch 3 - ? not sure, but something bad and maybe red lyrium-related 4 - 'Humble apostate Solas' from the in-game cinematic that we saw in this trailer 5 - Blue lyrium dagger 6 - Red lyrium dagger 7 - Davrin companion card art from the Dragon Age website 8 - Taash companion card art from the Dragon Age website 9 - Grand Necropolis. undead city vibes, the eerie green glow 10 - part of this concept art posted on Halloween in 2021. (I think this may be somewhere in the Anderfels/Weisshaupt surrounds after something bad has happened. those creatures are red lyrium-afflicted darkspawn. the location has the same dark/night-time corrupted/Blighted vibe as here, complete with Blightsacs and red lyrium darkspawn. the bad dark Blighted ruined vibe is also like here from the Thedas Calls teaser, where if you zoom in there's some red in the image. when this image was shown in Thedas Calls, it was the segment about Weisshaupt and the Wardens. in the release date reveal teaser, we see a shot of the Anderfels in the day-time without Blight/before anything bad has happened. it looks nice and is a beautiful view. you can tell that is the same place as here because of the presence of the posts with the basketball hoops on top of them. lastly, in the companions reveal trailer, Davrin is shown fighting red lyrium darkspawn in the dark/night-time corrupted looking area, and in the background is a statue of a griffon. 11 - ? not sure, but something bad and maybe red lyrium-related 12 - this Solas art from the Gear Store artbook exclusive variant pack 13 - Treviso in Antiva (see images here) 14 - Elgar'nan? curving horn shape, eclipse 15 - demons? or Elgar'nan and Ghil in their prison together? 16 - Qunari, as in from the group that have been invading/occupying? 17 - mage Rook/mage class (like there was a class card for each class for Inky in DA:I. mage inky) 18 - The Dread Wolf? or the Dread.. wolves. there are 2 wolves in this. Two Wolf Moon 19 - Lucanis companion card art from the Dragon Age website 20 - F dwarf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. F dwarf Inky for comparison) 21 - the Deep Roads (concept art for comparison) 22 - ? but they are this figure from the full cover art of the regular edition of the artbook 23 - Ghilan'nain? horrible centipede creature, suggestion of Ghil's head-shape, suggestion of hands and faces 24 - feather. griffon feather? to represent Assan? 25 - Rivain. boats, sea 26 - Antivan Crows

I feel like I've made mistakes or missed something though because if there's a card for each faction, where is the Shadow Dragons? and if there's an M and an F card for each lineage Rook, where are the human Rooks? I'll revisit the cards and my list again sometime with fresh eyes. :D

One thing I wanted to highlight at the end of the section on the cards is the blue lyrium and red lyrium dagger[s].

Above we talked about how the item name Lyrium Dagger confirms the idea that the dagger is blue because blue lyrium (I wondered that here). in the same post I wondered about the other dagger that we first saw on the deluxe artbook cover:

"This artbook cover one is more gnarled in appearance and the 'ring’ of the handle isn’t complete. It has extra spiky bits protruding off it too and it looks like something is growing on it. Maybe this is what happens if/when the blue [lyrium?] dagger becomes red (Blighted)? because this gnarled kinda vibe reminds me a bit of Meredith’s sword Certainty in DA2, and of that body horror way in which red lyrium growth looks on people. It also reminds me of the tendrils of Blight corruption on walls and the ground and stuff in DA:TV screenshots, and the gnarled red lyrium darkspawn we’ve seen (look at this darkspawn’s back for example). Or maybe there’s simply more than one dagger?"

and here we are. 👀 the blue lyrium dagger Blighted to red lyrium, or else there's a red lyrium dagger out there too somewhere.

Enchanted Die

"This beautiful die will help guide you through the perils of conversation."

The Gear Store description for this item makes perfect sense as the symbols on the dice are the dialogue wheel icons. :D here we can see Romance, Anxious, Sad, Warrior, Investigate, Mad, Stoic and others. also I love the iconic purple-theme color of the dice. :)

Glass Potion Flask

"A decorative vessel that would be essential for storing healing potions."

I have no comments on this really other than it's pretty and that I think it resembles the design of healing potion bottles in the game. :)

Dragon Age™: The Veilguard Companion Lithograph

"This art depicts the faces of your closest allies, the ones who'll stand beside you against impossible odds."

This features the companion art pieces from here.

Thank-You Letter

"A note of gratitude from the creatives at the helm of Dragon Age™: The Veilguard. (From game director Corinne Busche and creative director John Epler)"

and this is a lovely and thoughtful idea 🥺 .. maybe it's the inscription inside the box with the Veilguard symbol?

Lastly there's the box!

It's pretty and is in the same style as the UI on e.g. the skill trees. it looks like there's a square with each companion round the outside, plus a square for Manfred, Assan, and Varric. the gang's all here. :D for the 7 companions, their image is from their 'tarot style' art, but for Manfred, Assan and Varric it's art we haven't seen before. around the outside is also each of their weapons, like an arrow for archer Harding and Lucanis' fancy rapier-sword. I guess in the middle the helmet represents Rook. (it gives me Warden vibes. maybe it's a version of the helmet Rook wears here?).

As a last thought, with the items being Rook's "personal effects", the "tools of [their] resistance", I really love the idea that they have a deck of playing cards and a dice/enchanted dice. I know these are common fantasy world items but idk it's giving a lil, Remy LeBeau. I dunno, Rook somehow has a rogueish kinda vibe to me (as in the trait, not the class). Varric describes them as clever and adaptable, words you might apply to a trickster. "You don't know when to quit" implies a certain incorrigibility. rooks are corvids which have trickster lore irl, and characters that play games with cards and roll dice often have that smart, rogueish, trickster kind of edge in tropes and stuff. it works in my brain in different scenarios too, like if Rook is a foil to Solas, or someone advised by Solas (trickster-mini trickster mentee), or someone opposed to Solas (takes a trickster to outwit a trickster), and/or someone who is in some kind of a way a sorta successor[?] to Solas in terms of story role or repeating history or foils again etc (if you remember the line "They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?"). you know, like think about what is said about Fen'Harel today and was said about him immediately after the fall (elven voices in Vir Dirthara in Trespasser). what will they say about Rook when this is over? hope that paragraph made sense :D

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas #thanku to mime who helped me guess about the cards :D #if you have any corrections or other ideas about the card guesses lmk ^^

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savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 2 months ago

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"...BY THE LAKE A YOUNG GIRL WAITS, UNSEEING SHE BELIEVES HERSELF UNSEEN, SHE SMILES..."

PIC(S) INFO: Mega spotlight on A.I. generated expansion of sleeve/cover art to BLACK SABBATH's eponymous 1970 debut album. Artwork uploaded to Reddit by "gatorpuppetofficial" in 2023. Original photograph by Keith McMillan.

"Still falls the rain, the veils of darkness shroud the blackened trees, which contorted by some unseen violence, shed their tired leaves, and bend their boughs towards a grey earth of severed bird wings. among the grasses, poppies bleed before a gesticulating death, and young rabbits, born dead in traps, stand motionless, as though guarding the silence that surrounds and threatens to engulf all those that would listen. Mute birds, tired of repeating yesterdays terrors, huddle together in the recesses of dark corners, heads turned from the dead, black swan that floats upturned in a small pool in the hollow. there emerges from this pool a faint sensual mist, that traces its way upwards to caress the chipped feet of the headless martyr's statue, whose only achievement was to die to soon, and who couldn't wait to lose. the cataract of darkness form fully, the long black night begins, yet still, by the lake a young girl waits, unseeing she believes herself unseen, she smiles, faintly at the distant tolling bell, and the still falling rain."

-- ROGER BROWN (opening poem inside the gatefold sleeve to BLACK SABBATH's 1970 debut LP)

Source: www.reddit.com/r/blacksabbath/comments/13gpay7.

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philliam-writes · 1 year ago

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on that tree i'll carve our names (01)

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem! Hufflepuff Reader; Sebastian Sallow x Male MC

Synopsis: You have never believed or trusted in Prophecy, not with the way you were brought up. Paying attention to Prophecy is like tossing real diamonds in the air mixed with shards of broken glass. The grab is rarely worth the injury. But when the new fifth year arrives, so do trouble and mischief, and you're inadvertently thrust into adventures and secrets too grand to deal with by yourself. Yet with hardships come friendships, and while you learn to trust the new student with your life, you're less keen on trusting the cunning Sallow boy or the quiet Gaunt heir. Still waters run deep, as they say, and you can't shake off the feeling something dark hides at the bottom of those white-veiled unseeing eyes.

content: canon divergence, fighting prophecy, enemies to friends, reluctant soulmates, platonic soulmates, slow burn, basically HL but Reader isn't MC, angst, hurt and comfort, Sebastian and Reader can't stand each other (until much later), they're all mean, because they're starving for love, will love and kill for each other, dark(ish) ominis, satisfying female rage, also Quidditch because screw Black

notes: [02]

words: 5.9k

a/n: this is so self-indulgent, i don't even know if i'll keep this up. but right now i need to get this out of my system, so here is tragic platonic soulmates with delicious slow burn for borth of them and my favourite slytherin boys. hope you enjoy!

01: hawthorn makes the heart burn

The new student has been at Hogwarts for only a week, and already you cannot stand him.

It’s got nothing to do with the fact that he is a Slytherin. You have never been a fan of the sorting system, because even if it is partly at fault for sticking kids into boxes and teaching them to think in categories, the students surely don’t make it better living by these stereotypes. Not all Slytherins are bad people, just like not all Gryffindors are brave; not every Ravenclaw is a genius, and not every Hufflepuff is a saint, e.g.: You.

“You’re joking! Three Sickles and fifteen Knuts for a Pocket Sneakscope? That’s way too expensive!”

Lifting your eyes from the list of gadgets you need to buy on your next trip to Hogsmeade, you raise an eyebrow at the second-year Ravenclaw boy. He’s taller than most of his fellow housemates, shows signs of a long, hawkish nose and has pimples scattered on his cheeks like a Leaping Toadstool Cap. You can’t really remember his name. Freddy or Fred or August, maybe.

This early in the morning before classes start, the air is especially thick with the smell of late-summer: sweet buddleia in full bloom, the rich green leaves of trees as they sway gently in the wind. Mist hangs low in the valley and over the Great Lake, a milky curtain hiding its resident gently poking long tentacles into the warm sun. The castle is only slowly waking up after a short night—the last grace of long summer days approaching their end as October draws closer.

A beautiful landscape you can hardly enjoy with the second-year’s whiny voice buzzing around your head like an annoying mosquito.

“Look, you wanted a Pocket Sneakscope, I got it for you,” you say and unhitch yourself from the cool stone pillar, one of many holding up the roof of the Viaduct Courtyard’s passageway. “It’s not my fault the underground path is infested with spiders.”

Damned Weasley could have warned you though. You have been using the secret passage under the humpbacked, one-eyed witch leading to the cellar of Honeydukes since your second year when you spied Garreth Weasley sneak through it, and since then you both agreed on staying out of each other’s way as long as nobody rats out the secret passageway to the faculty. He gets to obtain whatever he needs for his weird concoctions, and you get to continue your little business of providing first and second years whatever they want from Hogsmeade since they can’t go themselves yet—all for a certain price. It makes trips to Hogsmeade easier when you can’t use your broom, though the occasional acid spit launched your way is less favourable than the breathtaking view of Hogwarts towering majestically as the sun sets, throwing the whole castle in stark, black contrast against the warm, orange sky.

“Unless you want someone else to get you stuff from Hogsmeade,” you continue with a shrug. “Good luck finding them though.” You move to put the Sneakscope back into your pocket, barely managing to keep on a neutral expression when Freddy or Fred or August, maybe, gasps as though you have reached into the Ravenclaw’s house point hourglass, grabbed a handful sapphires and chucked them at the Headmaster.

“It’s just—it’s just a whole Sickle more than I can spend this month!” he protests, but judging by the quiver of his voice he’ll eat out of your hand in no time.

You give your brightest smile. “Not my problem.”

The Ravenclaw-boy fumes, but when you hold out your hand, he slaps the coins into your open palm, his pale face blotched red with fury.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” You hand over his Pocket Sneakscope and watch him stamp off towards the double doors leading inside the entrance hall. He stops with a small, pale hand on the bronze doorknob, turns around as by his touch alone the doors squeal open with the magic that recognises students entering. “You are the worst Hufflepuff at this school!” he shouts and quickly dashes inside.

You don’t know why he felt the need to point it out. It’s not as though people don’t know who you are: the Hufflepuff who burnt down the left greenhouse in her second year when trying Incendio after agreeing to a bet; the Hufflepuff who broke a Ravenclaw’s nose because said Ravenclaw accused her of cheating in Defence Against the Dark Arts; the Hufflepuff who smoked Silverweed in a corner under the Great Staircase in her third year to see if it would yield any relaxing effects; the Hufflepuff who actually cheated on her very first exam in History of Magic—all in all the Hufflepuff who really should have been sorted into Slytherin on her first day, according to everybody else. Except the Slytherins have no love left for you because you wear yellow.

It is a wonder you have not been expelled yet, surely to do with the fact that despite it all, one student outshines your delinquent record. Your grades are passable, neither at the very top nor bottom, though you do have a knack for quickly learning spells and charms. What keeps you in somewhat good grace is being the Beater for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team—and what a Beater you are: ruthless and quick with strong arms. Maybe not as fast as Slytherin’s Captain on a broom, but you feel comfortable enough up in the air. All your problems seem so much smaller when you soar through the sky. Speaking of Quidditch, a Gryffindor second-year asked you to get a fake Snitch to practice for the team’s try-outs. Hopefully the Spintwitches Sporting Needs opens within in the next week; you’re in need of a new broomstick servicing kit, preferably before practice starts.

You move towards the Great Hall before they clear out breakfast. You did ask Javi to save up some Pumpkin Pastries for you, but he’s been in a foul mood since yesterday because Peeves destroyed a bust in the Astronomy Tower and he had to take the brunt of it. But while you’re crossing the courtyard, you notice a shadow standing under a wide archway, tall and sinewy, though body shapes are usually hard to guess under the loose, floaty school robes. Yet you know that despite looking lanky, this boy is nimble and quick, and his presence is utterly unappreciated—that is how the circle closes; the reason why you can’t stand him.

Even from this distance, you can make out Callum St. Jude’s pale grey eyes—they stand stark against his unruly map of ink-black hair. Paired with skin pale as moonlight, he looks like one of Hogwarts’s residual ghosts.

You feel your face turn into a scowl. It seems that no matter where you are these days, he is lurking nearby. At first you thought he was spying on you to check out the competition for tonight’s Crossing Wands duel. It is the finale after all. But when you had confronted him about it, catching him on his way down to the Slytherin dungeons in the Grand Staircase after your shared Charms class, he had considered you with a blank expression. “Who are you?” he’d asked, looking down at you from a few steps above.

Behind him, trailing him like a shadow since day one, Sebastian Sallow had sniggered. “Seems like you already have admirers,” he’d said with his insufferable haughty voice. “Though that Hufflepuff is more trouble than she’s worth.”

You were about to show him trouble, face hot with shame, when Javi hauled you up, hands under your armpits, and carried you away as if you were a sack of potatoes. “You can’t get detention now, it’s still the first week,” Javi had said mildly.

At least it would have been worth it. It would have been so satisfying to blast that cocky grin off Sallow’s face, to silence St. Jude’s little mocking huff. You firmly believe St. Jude is suffering from the worst ailment to date: Main Character Syndrome.

The symptoms have been evident since his first day: joining Hogwarts as a fifth-year, arriving late to the Sorting Ceremony due to a dragon attack, besting Sallow on his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson (though you can hardly criticise him knocking Sallow down a peg) and mastering every new spell and charm as though it is as easy as breathing. Just last week, he fought off a grown troll and defended Hogsmeade, and now the whole school doesn’t shut up about it.

It is with eager anticipation that you await tonight’s Crossed Wands’s finale. Your fingers practically itch to draw your wand and Flipendo him just to juggle him around a little and wipe that blank expression off his face. He is beautiful, you hate to admit, feeling a sour taste in the back of your throat, but he’s using that face in all the wrong ways. He has the sort of face they’d probably frame in a museum, the kind that’s unbelievably pretty, but unattainable.

“Preying upon second years this early?” St. Jude tuts. “It seems there really is no rest for the wicked.”

“Looks as though I am already punished for it,” you grumble. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

St. Jude cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “Interesting way to talk to someone you fancy.”

“I do not,” you press out between gritted teeth, shouldering past him as he steps into the entrance hall first, “fancy you.” You hope the Thunderbrew potion will be the first you’ll learn in Potions class. Watching St. Jude getting struck by lightning would lighten your mood considerably.

“For someone who pretends not to be interested in me,” he continues, ignoring you, “I see you around an awful lot.”

You consider tripping him as you two ascend the stairs. “Yes, that seems to be the very problem.”

“Won’t make me take it easy on you tonight though.” Since he is nowhere near a gentleman, he doesn’t hold the door open for you and it almost slams in your face. “I always duel to win.”

“I hope you don’t mind spending the next couple of days in the hospital wing.” You bump into his shoulder, hard, when you finally enter the Great Hall and immediately aim for the Hufflepuff table to the far right of the hall without another glance at him.

The hall is buzzing with students, the air filled with the tasty smell of crispy bacon, grilled leak, slightly burnt toast with melting butter on top. It isn’t as crowded as at lunch or dinner time—most students tend to skip breakfast to either sleep in after a long study night or use the hour before classes to finish assignments and homework.

The ceiling shows a clear blue sky with thin clouds drifting past lazily. You slide in the free seat next to your fellow Beater near the front of the table. Javier García is shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth, his bright brown eyes fixed on the Daily Prophet. In your first year, you didn’t pay much attention to him. If you look up Hufflepuff Student in any dictionary, it will show Javi’s face—a hard-working, loyal individual that always reminds you of a golden retriever until he steps on the field and turns into a pit bull from a fighting ring. Every summer he returns to his muggle family where he helps tending to the crops and fields, evident in his arms the size of tree trunks used to heavy lifting. Perfect for hitting Bludgers at opponents and slamming them off their brooms.

You pour yourself coffee and begin spooning slabs of apple-cinnamon-oatmeal into a bowl.

“Ranrok’s Loyalists have put up more camps around the Hogwarts highlands,” Javi says, mouth half-full. “It looks like they’re moving closer towards Hogwarts.”

“Why would they come to Hogwarts? There’s nothing here.”

“The castle has tons of secrets still uncovered. Why wouldn’t they try and get inside?”

“As if they’d manage to get through the defences. Hogwarts is impenetrable.” You take a long sip from your cup, hoping the caffeine kicks in fast. “No one’s going to get inside. Forget about the goblins. Did you see the Quidditch board? Our first game this season is against Gryffindor.”

Javi groans. “I hate their Seeker. Too small to hit with a Bludger, too quick to slam off the broom. We might as well throw in the towel.”

“Don’t let Captain hear that or she’ll turn you into a fox and wear you as a collar.” The Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain, Mary J. Lockwood, is sweet in pretty much every aspect except when it comes to Quidditch, and she never hesitates making you take the brunt of it. You’ve stopped counting how often she’d condemned you to run laps around the field as punishment for talking back or disrupting practice.

You finish breakfast and quickly drop by the common room to get your parchments and books for Divination class, hoping it will let time pass quickly until evening. But while staring for roughly an hour into the lazily swirling fog inside a crystal ball without an answer to how this year’s Quidditch season will end, time seemed to move slower than a snail. After dozing off twice and woken up by Adeleide Oakes’s pointy elbow to your ribs before Professor Onai could notice, the class finally ends.

Next up is Herbology and after that you’ve got two free periods until lunch and then end the day with double Potions. It’s a slow day for a Wednesday, and you can’t wait until practice starts in October to give you some change from sitting for hours in the library and going through dusty old tomes or watch the first and second-years getting roped up into playing Gobstones in the common room by the older students, filling it with the putrid smell of its foul liquid. You just enjoy being outdoors more. Which is why Herbology is somewhat fun, even if you and Javi prefer to pass time by betting on who can stick their finger closest to a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, earning a scornful side glance from Leander Prewett.

You promised Samantha Dale and Nellie Oggspire to work on the assigned group project for the essay on Ghouls for DADA during your free period, but when you’re about to set out to the Great Hall to grab a few snacks before going through the list of books you’ll need from the library, Professor Garlick appears before you suddenly as though sprouting from the ground like a flower.

“Oh, delightful, my dear, there you are!” she beams. Small brown parcels flutter around her head like butterflies. “Here is the delivery for Mr. Ollivander, if you’d be so kind and bring them to him now.”

Just in case, you look behind you. Nobody there on the stairs leading up to the central hall. Even Javi has made himself scarce already. She really is talking to you.

“Why me, Professor?” Someone must have hit you with Obliviate. You can’t remember having agreed to any favour for her.

“Oh? Frederick Gustave told me you would offer! Quite an attentive, nice boy! He will grow into a splendid Ravenclaw student one day!” Frederick Gustave? In Ravenclaw? You don’t know anyone called Frederick or Gustave or—the thought strikes you like lightning. Freddy, Fred or August. “All you need to do is bring these little parcels to Mr. Ollivander in Hogsmeade. These are magically nourished woods he has requested, and I am quite eager to see the results for myself.”

With a flick of her wand the parcels change course and begin to circle around your head before you can even begin to explain that this is a huge misunderstanding. She pats your cheek affectionately and twirls around, descending the stairs back to her flowery domain.

Javi is waiting for you at the top of the stairs, ignoring your scowl as he whistles the tune of The School of Jolly Dogs. His face lights up. “Since you’re heading to Hogsmeade, can you bring me some white Chocolate Frogs? Mine hopped out of the window last night because Arty forgot to close it.”

You answer with a rude hand gesture and stomp out of the hall, heading for where you keep your brooms stashed in the Hufflepuff locker room.

~ ⋆｡°✩ ~

The flight to Hogsmeade takes longer than usual. Every time you move too fast, the parcels begin to cry and whine like little abandoned ducklings until they catch up to you. Other than that, it is a beautiful morning as the sun keeps dipping in and out between wispy smears of clouds on the wide blue canvas. The tiny, homey town is alive with witches and wizards scurrying around to get their errands done. The novelty and excitement from visiting Hogsmeade in your third-year has worn off after two years, but it’s still a nice change from the dark school corridors and unending spiralling stair cases.

You leave your broom leaning next to the entrance of Mr. Ollivander’s shop. This shouldn’t take more than five minutes, darting in and out; you’re pretty sure you’ll be quicker than a Niffler digging through a pile of Galleons.

The door swings open easily. It has been five years since you last set foot into the small, cramped shop, yet nothing has changed and suddenly you feel as though you’re eleven again, entering for the first time. It smells of polished wood and something burnt underneath like a misplaced Incendio. Nearly every wall is stacked high with countless wands up to the ceiling, waiting to choose their witch or wizard. Back then you felt very small as a first year, anxious and excited to finally attend Hogwarts and get your own wand—the very first object that truly belonged to you and was not one of your older sisters’ hand-me-downs.

From the back of the shop you hear heavy knocks and a shrill screeching sound that makes you want to put your hands to your ears. Just like five years ago, you reach for the bronze bell on the counter but before your fingers can touch it, it lifts on its own and jingles beautifully. The knocking immediately stops, followed by a last dull clatter and then Mr. Ollivander emerges from the back room, dusting himself off.

He looks at you over the rim of his golden glasses, and a small smile spreads on his face as recognition dawns. The wide counter flap squeaks open when he swishes his wand to step through.

“Ah, the Hawthorn girl,” he says in greeting, quickly closing the space between you and taking your hands in his; you feel every wrinkle against your palm, every patch of rough skin from decades of work as he squeezes your hands. “I have hoped that I would see you soon.”

The question mark must be evident on your face, for Mr. Ollivander explains, “I remember every student and wand I paired, and you my dear, I remember the day five years ago when you came to my shop and your wand found you. Spiral, twelve inches, and a phoenix feather core. Unyielding. But what makes your wand so special is the wood it is made of. Hawthorn makes such a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death.” He chuckles to himself, blinking as if lost in a memory; not noticing how tense you are and the way your uneasy smile curls downward. As though you could forget what the hawthorn means. But instead of allowing your mother’s voice inside your head and poisoning your heart, you square your shoulders and pull your hands away from Mr. Ollivander’s grasp.

“Delivery from Professor Garlick,” you say with a faux cheery voice. It seems only then does Mr. Ollivander notice the parcels still fluttering around your head.

“Ah, yes, yes! Allow me.” He points his wand at the parcels, then to his back room and they float through the shop in rank and file, all in proper order. “And here of course, the payment.” Mr. Ollivander hurries behind the counter, and produces a heavy pouch that he hands over to you. It jangles handsomely when you take it from him.

“Well then, I wish you a nice da—”

“Tell me, dear, have you met him?”

Feet already pointed towards the entrance, you turn your body halfway back. “Met who, sir?”

Mr. Ollivander looks up from the account books he’s been writing in. Something glints in his eyes, but maybe it’s just the reflection on his glasses. “Why, the Blackthorn boy of course.”

You rack your brain for anyone you know who’s called Blackthorn but come up empty. “I’m afraid I have not made any acquaintance like that, sir.”

The wandmaker’s eyes are calm, a sparkling blue of sunlight lancing off a stream. “I see,” he says. “Well, my part of this was fulfilled when I matched your wants with you. Everything else is up to you.” He gives you a little secret smile, then goes back to his ledger, the conversation clearly over even though you have dozens of questions swirling in your head.

Back out on Lower High Street, you have been released of the fluttering parcels and instead Mr. Ollivander’s words torment your mind. You can feel a memory hiding behind a thick fog, blurry and barely visible but its presence heavy and lurking like a ghost.

Wasn’t there something he had told you five years ago? When he had presented your wand to you, still resting in its narrow satin casket. You were too excited to pay him any mind—it had sounded too much like one of your mother’s stories; like an augury or worse even, a prophecy—when he had told you about a cursed kingdom, two brothers, and a hawthorn and blackthorn tree. Why listen to old fairy tales when the real adventure—Hogwarts—was waiting for you?

Besides, if by ‘Blackthorn boy’ he meant someone with a blackthorn wand, finding that person would be nearly impossible. And why would you look for him in the first place? Superstitions and divinations have no place in your life. Not after how it had dictated your childhood with a cold iron fist.

The trip back to Hogwarts is significantly faster without having to look after enchanted parcels behaving like newborn Fwoopers. With what happened at Mr. Ollivander’s, you completely forgot to drop by Honeydukes for Javi, which makes him look like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day.

You manage to start your essay for the group project, although you don’t get nowhere near where you wanted to be before the match. Lunch is a blur of tasty shepherd’s pie and grilled mushroom skewers with a small handful of students passing where you sit to wish you good luck, pattung your shoulder hard enough you almost choke on your pumpkin juice. Others send you little notes with crude drawings showing St. Jude zapping you with a spell and losing tonight’s duel. The messages are charmed to head dive into your cup and plate, splattering mashed potatoes on your uniform.

Adeleide plucks a nervously flapping piece of paper out of your meal and unfolds it. “At least they’re creative,” she notices mildly.

You throw a wary glance at the note. “That doesn’t even look like me.”

“I don’t know.” Javi slurps loudly from his cup. “They got your scowl right.”

Double Potions after lunch flies by for a change. Your Wiggenweld Potion tends to be a tad bluer than Professor Sharp’s apple green concoction bubbling at the front table for reference, but you have a hard time focusing when your mind is already occupied with how tonight’s duel might go.

You have a handful favourite spells that you’ve practised long enough they come as easy to you as breathing. But from what you have seen during the last Crossed Wands duels where St. Jude has participated, he seems to have a natural gift for duelling. You’ve heard he competed alongside Sallow in his first duel, but every after he’s been on his own and you’ve seen the battered and bruised leftover competitors limping out of the Clock Tower. You don’t plan to follow in their footsteps.

When evening falls on the castle and the long, narrow corridors awake with dim candlelight, you follow the throng of hooded students hurrying towards the Clock Tower after dinner. The excitement ripples through the lines of people like a physical force, alive and rearing when the first students file into the Clock Tower and find a seat close to the walls and away from accidental stray spells.

You spot Lucan Brattleby surrounded by a handful Hufflepuff and Slytherin students. Javi is among them, and when you draw closer you notice the ledger in Lucan’s hand and the Sickles being passed between him and Javi.

Javi startles when you step next to him like a Mooncalf facing an oncoming card. “Hiya,” he says in the very familiar voice that sounds a lot like him hoping you won’t be mad.

You raise an eyebrow. “Placing bets?” Your eyes linger on the page as you scan the names on the chart on your side. Only a few names—Leander, who’s been especially snappy since he lost against St. Jude in the semifinals, a handful other Gryffindors, one or two Ravenclaws and the rest are students from your house. On St. Jude’s column, Lucan has started to write the names as tiny as possible to fit them all on the page. Javi’s is amongst them. He ducks away from your scrutinising gaze. “He slew a fully-grown troll last week!” he pleads his case. So much for the infamous Hufflepuff loyalty. “I’ll invite you to Honyedukes after and pay whatever you want from the win.”

“Whatever.” You turn away to get ready, walking into a hard, solid body.

Callum St. Jude steadies you before you can stumble. “Easy there.” His smile slices white. “Am I already sweeping you off your feet? We haven’t even started yet.”

You shrug his hand off your arm. “The only sweeping happening today is when I wipe the floor with you, St. Jude.”

He hums thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”

You stare daggers at his back as he retreats to his side of the hall, welcomed by other Slytherin students who pat his back and ruffle his unruly jet-black hair as though he is the fifth year’s Champion already. He doesn’t linger around them for too long, and instead retreats to a far corner where Sallow is already waiting for him. What an annoying duo.

Tugging your black robe off, you begin to stretch your limbs. For today’s occasions you’ve chosen to wear a simple shirt with ribbon uniform tucked into your plaid trousers. More mobility, less fabric flapping around. A tie or a blazer would allow too much surface for a nasty Accio. From the last duels you’ve watched, you know St. Jude is as sharp as a whip, and he uses everything in his so far meagre arsenal of spells to win.

You’ll need to keep all your wits about you. If he, and the majority assembled under the giant swinging pendulum today, underestimate you, it will be your pleasure to remind them what vicious creatures badgers are. And that they devour snakes.

When you turn, St. Jude is already standing ready, his wand raised. He’s shrugged out of his robes as well and pulled off his tie, following your example. Gone is the hint of the cocky smile he always wears, so infuriating and inviting to punch. Now he is serious, his face an impassive mask that betrays nothing but you have seen it change within a heartbeat before knocking an opponent out with a savage blast of his wand. Like a snake, waiting and watching, until it strikes viciously and sinks its venomous fangs into your skin.

“Attention!” Lucan Brattleby hops in the centre, his arms raised. “Wizards and witches! Welcome to the fifth year’s Crossed Wands Championship Round!” He lets the audience get the whistling and bellowing out of their system before he introduces both parties. “Competitors, let’s get started!”

He quickly dashes out of the way—rightly so, for St. Jude’s opening move is always a lightning-quick Levioso, just like Professor Hecat taught him. You dodge the spell and hear it disperse against the wall behind you, feeling the sparks nip your skin.

“Accio!” You whip your wand towards you, only able to catch St. Jude by the cuff of his white sleeve as he evades with a side-step. But it’s enough to unbalance him as his arm is pulled in your direction and he retaliates by using the moment to blast a few Basic Casts your way which you block by well-timed Protegos.

The crowd’s cheers disappears into background noise as you and St. Jude continue your tense dance of attack and parry; a step forward, another step back, his Incendio is answered by your Glacius; since he prefers fire you do him the pleasure of casting Confringo which forces him to dive to the side. Your spell blasts the wooden weapon rack behind him into splinters and pieces, showering the Slytherins sitting beside it with glowing embers.

“Come on, new guy, give her a proper Slytherin treatment!” one of them yells. St. Jude doesn’t let himself get distracted, not even by the instructions of his fellow housemates or the quips from your side of the room. His eyes are pinning you like a butterfly on a corkboard, following your every step. They are frighteningly bright, you have the feeling that no move will go past him.

From behind you, you pull a large crate from under the buttocks of two Gryffindors with Accio, ignoring their protests when in the last second you fling it bodily towards St. Jude with Depulso. You’ve been working on the right timing for this for a long time—people usually don’t expect to be thrown at with things instead of spells. It hurls through the hall, and to your utter astonishment St. Jude blocks it in the last second with a flying object of his own—a practice dummy.

But where was the spell? You didn’t see him cast one when he hurled that dummy through the air.

At your puzzled expression, St. Jude grins at you, his smile so sudden and jarring as a thunderclap. You narrow your eyes. There’s something growing in the pit of your stomach, rearing its ugly head and snapping sharp, volatile teeth. Basic Casts don’t feel enough, and every vicious Diffindo St. Jude parries or dodges in the last moment. His retaliation is a fiery Incendio after Incendio—you’d think after this time one of you would grow weaker, lose focus, but the heat flaring your way and the flames licking up your uniform feel anything but harmless or tame.

Sweat runs down your temples, along your cheeks, down your neck. Your wand feels hot in your hand, but you grip it tighter, knuckles white. Your lungs feel tight in your chest, but you breathe in stronger, eyes wide. That rage that always lives inside you rears. It is an almost physical pain, like nails against flesh; like teeth against bars. That unwanted animal is starving, it wants nothing more than to get out and you’re surprised nobody else can hear it howling.

“Not as quick or cunning as that Sallow boy, but her spells pack a mean punch,” they say about you. You couldn’t best Sallow, and now there is this new contender and you refuse, refuse to slide down to number three; always coming in last, always pushed aside. You snarl at St. Jude as though trying to wrap your teeth around the world.

The air crackles with magic. Faintly, you hear an echo of a familiar voice. “Do not be surprised at your wand’s ability to perceive your intentions—particularly in a moment of need.”

It seems your wand shares your taste for violence—you can feel that this is the best Expulso you have executed since you taught yourself the spell in year four. You swing your arm, wand scorching hot in your hand—vibrating even—and hurl the Blasting Spell at St. Jude.

You can see his mouth move as he speaks a spell, blue sparks fly from the tip of his wand and then crackling lightning intercepts your attack. Through the sparks and bolts you see St. Jude’s puzzled expression—now is the chance to strike. A surprised opponent is a weak opponent; you swing your arm back—your arm is stuck.

From the tip of your wand a wiry crimson light crackles across the room, connected to St. Jude’s wand. When you try pulling back again, an invisible force lurches you forward, forcing your arm up until the thin light grows stronger, redder like spilt blood. Your arm shakes with the feeling of wrongness crawling up your arm, a kernel of god-awful flavour that has you biting your bottom lip. You feel an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It is recognition.

The point of your wand, shining a blazing white, shakes with the effort of you trying to pull back; shakes from whatever magic is transpiring between you two. On the other side, St. Jude has his free hand around his other wrist, trying to lower his wand, his face as white as a wall. To no avail.

The magic spreading from your wand through your body is like curious, warm fingers touching up along your arm, curling around your shoulder, settling against your cheek. They wander lower and splay across your chest, then sink through your ribs. Close around your heart. Squeeze.

The world explodes.

The magical blast sends you flying. Your teeth clang together as you slam on your back. Pain radiates through your body. Black dots dance before your eyes and blur your vision as you’re struggling for air.

A hushed silence has settled inside the Clock Tower. You shake your head, your free hand rising to your chest where you still feel a sharp twinge. Gingerly, you pick yourself up, carefully feeling for injuries. The whole room is a mess as though a wild Graphorn has ravaged inside and destroyed most of the furnishings. When your eyes lock with St. Jude’s across the room, your heart beats in your throat, making it hard to breathe.

Mirroring you, one hand is pressed against his chest, the other holds his wand in a vice-grip as though his life depends on it. You see him shudder helplessly, as if it were winter and he has gone outside without gloves and caught a terrible chill. His eyes meet yours, then drop to your wand. His lips mouth a single word, and you stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of dread spreading slowly through your limbs.

And all of a sudden, you remember very clearly one thing Mr. Ollivander had told you all those years ago.

Once your paths cross, your fates will be irrevocably connected, growing together like the roots of old trees. Your wands have come from the same seed. There is no doubt that you fill find him.

Your Blackthorn boy.

A/N: If anyone is interested in this story, I can make a taglist :) Would also appreciate any sort of feedback, or just hitting the little heart so show me you enjoyed it

#hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x male mc #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis x reader #ominis x you #ominis x y/n #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #phill.hl

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