#miracle moon festival

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Magic Systems.

There are two broad ways you can establish magic in your story world - work with existing concepts, or adapting it for something new.

Pick a System

High Magic vs. Low Magic

This distinction existes mostly in the western wrld from the Middle Ages onwards. In non-western cultures, this distinct often doesn't exist.

High magic requires magicians to study from books, ingredients are expensive and instruments elaborate and hard to get. The typical practioner of High Magic is of the upper class, highly educated, and rich. They serve in King's courts and have high social standing thanks to their knowledge.

Among the lower classes and women, Low Magic is ore common. It is taught orally and doesn't require reading skills and uses everyday objects and ingredients.

Black vs. White Magic

"White" magic is often associated with good, and "Black" with the evil. However, what really matters is the magicians intension, not the magic system that they work with.

The term "black magic" is often associated with working with the dead. It can also be used by an individual/group who just wants to appear more menacing.

Ceremonial Magic

This kind of magic involves lots of ritual, recitation and prayer, often in ancient langauges such as Latin, Aramaic and Sanskrit.

Most of the time, it's High Magic and practiced by religious figures.

The typical practioner is educated, has great confidence and a good memory.

Natural Magic

It involves ingredients from nature, such as herbs and water.

It may be practiced outdoor, in a kitchen, or in a laboratory.

The rituals are simple and short, and the practioner will watch out for the turning of seasons, phases of the moon, etc.

Religious Magic

This is a diety working through a magician. The magician prays and asks her god to work the miracle.

Most religions have their own form of magic, and the kind of miracles that the magicians can bring can be limited.

Wiccan Witchcraft and Voodoo are largely religious magic.

The typical practioner would be spiritual and devout, often suspicious of other religions.

Alchemy

Alchemy is both High and Low Magic, and it can incorporate religious, spiritual, philosophical and mythological elements.

In a modern setting, alchemy can also be portrayed as "science gone too far".

The typical practioner would be patient, methodious, educated and driven. The tools includes laboratory equipment, astronomical charts, writing materials, and an unsuspecting roommate(?) for testing.

Traditional Witchcraft

Traditional Witchcraft is a form of Low Magic. In early historic periods, the witch played an important role in village life, often old women who owned apothecaries and helped out other villagers.

The typical practioner would be female, uneducated, illiterate, practical, resourceful and poor. She will have a good memory and well-developed senses.

Tools used would be simple household implements - a cauldron, a broom, knife, etc. that can evade the Inquisitor's suspicions.

Wiccan Witchcraft

If you write contemporary fiction, this is the system your character is most likely to use. It's modern witchcraft, based on the religion of Wicca.

Wiccan witchcraft mostly developed in the second half of the twentieth centruy. It is a form of bothe Natural Magic and Religious Magic.

Based on nature worship and the polarity between male and female, the magician often begins a Wiccan ritual with an invocation to a God/Godess. The Lady (Godess) is depicted as having three aspects: Maiden, Mother and Brone. The Lord (God) may be depicted with horns.

The focus of Wiccan magic is often on healing, with an emphasis of ethical consequences of what is being performed.

It is often practiced outdoors, sometimes naked (which they call 'skyclad'). Wiccan witchcraft uses the phases of the moon to amplify its effects.

Wiccan like to gather in groups called 'covens' or to meet once a month or for major festivals. The coven leader may be called 'high piestess/priest'.

Typical tools include a chalice, a knife (called 'athame'), a wand, candles, herbs, crystals, and essential oils.

Necromancy

The magician summons a dead person, either ghost or spirit, sometimes bodily. The dead are enlisted to grant the magicians with favors or are questioned for information.

It may be related to Shamanism, as well as to some forms of psychic work such as channelling and Spiritualist seances.

The typical practitioner is psychally gisted, strong-willed and courageous.

Shamnism

Shamnism is a Low Magic system. The shaman intercedes between the human and spirit world by communicating with spirits, often to obtain information or provide healing.

Shamans may travel to the spirit world to seek answered, with some level of danger. They use drums, chanting, dancing and drugs to alter their consciousness and communicate with spirits.

Practicing shamans often work alone, but they choose a successor to train. The apprentice is supposed to accept the calling.

The typical shaman is musical, sensitive with a strong sense of rhythm and the psychic.

Tools include drums, bells, a costume, herbs, bones, smoke and mind-altering drugs.

Ancient Egyptian Magic

Ancient Eyptian Magic ovelaps with Religious magic, medicine and with psychic work. The deities most frequently evoked are Selket, Aset for raising the dead, and the gof Thoth for anything to do with sickness and healing.

The emphasis of Ancient Egyptian Magic is protection, often done throgugh an amulet or talisman. The circle or oval is the most important shape that has protective qualities.

The precise wording of a spell is important, as well as the colors that are involved. For magic to affect someone the magicians must know that person's true name.

The typical practitioner is male, literate, often a priest attached to a emple.

Folk Magic

This is a form of Low Magic practiced by amateurs.

This includes housekeepers who can keep the rats out, farmers who can ripen fruit before the height of the season, and scullions who can make water boil faster.

This people would only know a handful of spells, ans pass them in to memebers of their family.

Voodoo

Voodoo is religious magic and low magic.

The rituals are held in private, and may involve communication with spirits, especially the spirits of ancestors and saints.

Commonly used to cure aliments, confound enemies, and obtain desires.

Invent a System

Choosing the Right Words

If your character is clearly a witch, shaman, a necromancer, etc. with a specialty, use that term. Otherwise, the word "magician", or "mage" would be most appropriate.

The term "magus" (plural magi) refers to practitioners of the ancient Zoroastrian faith.

Strictly speaking, witches and wizards are practitioners of two very different magic systems, so your female character can be a wizard, and vice versa.

'Warlock' really means 'oath-breaker' or 'traitor' and doesn't describe a magician.

'Conjurer' is someone who can creae effects to impress an audience, not really magical in itself. The more modern temr would be 'illusionist'

A group of magicians may be called a 'coven' (though it applies mostly to Wiccan magic). A magician working alone would be a 'solitary'.

Magic vs. Magick

Normally, "magic" is the correct spelling.

However, "magick" may be used, especially by insiders, to emphasize that they refer to the real thing, not conjuring or other trick of the eye.

The magic systems are sometimes capitalized, sometimes not. When it involves a religion, nationaliy, or a particular family line, it is capitalized. Just make sure to keep it consistent throughout your book.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[leaderpinhead]

Leona - The Whoopsie Wedding

Prompt: "Accidental" Marriage 6 months later, and I'm still trying to complete this prompt challenge. Otherwise known as "my excuse to write random LeonaxYuu stuff."

“Unca Leona!” 

Leona’s ear twitched in response to the high-pitched shriek. He made an abrupt about-face and lengthened his stride. The slap of sandals against the stone floor behind him made his ear continue its erratic fluttering. 

He had nearly made it to the end of the hall when Kifaji turned the corner in front of him. The old chamberlain’s satisfied grin made a muscle above his eye twitch to the same rhythm as his ear. “Ah, there you are Prince Leona. I was just looking for you. There is a dignitary—” 

The sandal slapping grew louder along with the insistent shrieking. “Unca Leona!” 

“—who wishes to meet you—” 

Leona twisted on his heel without hesitation. Cheka yelped when Leona snatched him out of the air mid-pounce. Throwing his nephew over his shoulder, Leona prowled down the hallway in the opposite direction of Kifaji. “Can’t play replacement for my brother right now. Busy.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk at the startled stutter that escaped Kifaji. “Prince Leona! This is a delicate business relation Crown Prince Falena has—!” 

Cheka giggled and wildly kicked his legs. Leona swallowed a growl and pinned the boy’s flailing legs beneath his forearm. “Were you not one of the people insisting I spend more time with my precious nephew? Falena will understand rescheduling the meeting. He rescheduled an entire assembly to attend a little play at his son’s daycare.” 

The tired sigh behind him was worth the sharp yank of his hair. He knew he couldn’t argue against Leona’s logic—his brother would be over the moon the moment snitched on him. Leona willingly spending time with his nephew? A new national holiday would be created just to celebrate the miracle. 

Checkmate. 

Leona couldn’t stop the new growl that rose after another yank on his hair. He flipped Cheka off his shoulder to sit on his forearm. Cheka—the oblivious brat that he was—squeezed his face between tiny hands and grinned. “Unca Leona! Unca Leona!” 

“What?” Leona impatiently snapped. He shifted Cheka to his sit on his other arm in hopes the brat would release him. It was a temporary solution because Cheka’s sticky fingers were like magnets to his face. “Stop shouting. You have my attention.” 

Cheka hummed. One sandaled foot kicked Leona in the ribs. The lion mask—a smaller version of the one Leona wore with his liongarb—slipped down Cheka’s forehead. “I been lookin’ everywhere for you! Timmy says you ran off to nap, and I says nu uh ‘cause yous a big boy, and big boys don’t take naps!” 

Timmy was as a big a brat as Cheka was. The amount of times Leona suffered through listening to Cheka complain about his friend disagreeing with him were too many for Leona to count even if he cared to keep track. Leona couldn’t say that without Cheka getting all weepy for his friend though. Sade would give him a death glare until he finally went back to Night Raven College if she found out he made Cheka all weepy when he should have been having fun with his bratty friends during the Cloudcalling Festival. 

He also wasn’t about to admit one of those bratty friends had been right. 

“What do you want?” Leona asked with a heavy sigh. Strategically speaking, dealing with Cheka was the lesser of two hassles. Unlike a bunch of sweat-smelling, greedy businessmen, Leona could slip away once Cheka’s extremely tiny attention span waned. He just had to find the right beetle to distract the brat. “I have other things I have to do before returning to school.” 

Cheka pouted. His sticky fingers found the strands of beads hanging from the lion mask on Leona’s head. “You gotta go back? But why?” 

“I’m only here for the festival,” Leona said with the thin patience of already repeating the same sentence several times. “What do you want?” 

The question distracted Cheka from pouting over Leona’s inevitable departure. Cheka pulled on the strand of beads and pointed to one of the doorways ahead of them. “We needs you for a very big thing!” 

Leona heavily sighed. The last thing he wanted was to waste his time with Cheka’s bratty friends. He wasn’t a kid-person no matter what Sade tried to say. He barely had the patience for Falena, the biggest kid he knew. Fortunately, kids were easily distractible. 

Kalim’s and Lilia’s happy greetings when he turned into the open doorframe made that muscle above his eye twitch again. Grim snickered when the only thing preventing Cheka from flipping over Leona’s forearm in excitement was his grip on the bead strand. “Look what the lion cub dragged in.” 

Lilia giggled like the deranged imp he was. The skinny little boy sitting next to him joined his cackling, a pair of small round dark ears flicking from a mop of brownish-red hair. “He certainly does not disappoint! What an excellent sniffer you have!” 

Kalim’s laugh sounded less deranged and more ignorantly happy. The chubbier little boy sitting next to him had a dopey type of smile on his face. “I’ll say! It didn’t even take him five minutes. I can’t even find Jamil that quick!” 

Cheka emitted a happy grumbly noise at the praise. Leona whipped his forearm out from beneath Cheka, making his nephew squawk in surprise, before grabbing him under the armpits. His eyes cut across the room to where Yuu sat on a floor mat with the last of Cheka’s friends, another lion cub dressed in a liongarb costume with strands of beads woven through her braided blonde hair. Neither of them looked up from the pile of beads on the ground in front of them. The lion cub patiently showed Yuu how to string the beads, continuously measuring the length of the strand around Yuu’s wrist. Yuu nodded with an air of unwavering focus. 

Leona ignored the two and turned an unimpressed glower at the others. He flicked his tail at them. “Why am I not surprised none of you stayed at the hotel like I told you to.” 

Kalim laughed, predictably missing the sarcasm in Leona’s voice. “Kifaji came by my suite with an invitation from Cheka after we came back! Jamil was busy packing up everything, so I accepted.” 

“It would be incredibly rude to reject an invitation from nobility,” Lilia added. Leona caught the bright glint in Lilia’s eyes. “As a representative from Briar Valley, I would hate to taint any diplomatic alliances. Malleus would be highly displeased if he didn’t receive future invitations to visit.” 

Leona’s upper lip curled slightly over his teeth. “Like I’d invite the lizard anywhere.” 

That glint became brighter. “Oh ho! Whoever said it would be an invitation from you?” 

Leona’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. If he hadn’t needed Lilia for the Bead Brawl... 

A light tug on his pants made Leona drop Cheka. Cheka landed on the other two boys, who had gathered around Leona’s knees. They squealed and wiggled in a mound of limbs Leona found disturbingly...squishy. Even Leona couldn’t contort into the pretzel positions they did. 

Leona decided to ignore all of them and directed his next question to Yuu. “Did the beauty queen and Jack miss the invitation?” 

Yuu’s eyes barely flicked in his direction, her focus on her current task of stringing beads. “Vil wanted to go soak in the Ivory Springs again before we left. He said it was the least he was owed after the injury he took for you in the Bead Brawl. Jack went with him since he’s been feeling better. He still wanted to see parts of the city even if the festival has kinda died down after the rain.” Yuu glanced up long enough to meet Leona’s gaze. “I made him take three bottles of water with him.” 

Leona grunted. “It’s not my problem if he has another heatstroke. He’s aware of the risks now.” 

Cheka jumping on his leg was the perfect excuse to dismiss Yuu’s unconvinced hum. Leona stiffened when Cheka’s friends grabbed him without hesitation. Was that snot dripping out of the chubbier one’s nose? 

“Unca Leona! Unca Leona!” Cheka demanded. “You gotta play with me!” 

Leona bristled at the command. Kalim’s cheery laugh was the only thing preventing him from punting Cheka and his friends across the room. “Cheka told us only you could play the role in the game he wants to play because it’s one of the most important roles. He wouldn’t even let Vil fill in before he left!” 

“’Cause only Unca Leona can do it!” Cheka insisted. He twisted away from Leona and ran across the room, taking his friends with him. “Unca Leona is leader of the Sunset Warriors! Timmy! Pupa! Come stand here!” 

Leona ignored Cheka haughtily commanding his friends in favor of imagining Vil’s reaction to Cheka’s logic. He almost wished he had been there to see the offended huffing. Leona could imagine that was why Vil had chosen another trip to the Ivory Springs as opposed to an opportunity of running into the rest of Leona’s family at the palace. 

A tug on his fingers made Leona glance down at the little girl. She stared up at him with narrowed blue eyes. Leona narrowed his eyes back down at her. She barely stood taller than his knee, yet she had already mastered the same judgmental stare Sade gave him when he skipped “important” family activities. 

Her glare never wavering, she held out one of the beaded bracelets she and Yuu made. “Take this” 

Leona’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t immediately obey her command. “Why should I?” 

A jab to the back of his ribs made him turn his glower on Yuu. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “She’s not asking you to eat a cactus. You can accept a gift without pretending you’re offended.” 

“A gift?” Leona questioned. The girl tugged on his fingers again, and he fought the urge to snatch his hand from her grasp. "Being told to accept something doesn’t sound like a gift.” 

“It’s not a gift,” the girl confirmed. She yanked on one finger hard enough for Leona to feel the hollow pop of a joint. Her tail angrily swished behind her when he conveyed his displeasure with a muted growl. “You gotta take it to give to her.” 

Leona frowned. He shot Yuu a suspicious glare, but she only shrugged. She held up the bracelet she made and gave it a little shake. “Don’t look at me. I’ve got my bracelet.” 

The little lioness emitted an annoyed huff. “That’s not yours either! Come on. Cheka! We’re ready.” 

Cheka jumped at the sudden shout. He ran back across the room to grab a patterned throw blanket draped over a bench. He climbed up on the bench and threw his shoulders back. Timmy and Pupa ran over to stand on the right side of the bench. Without receiving any instructions, Kalim, Lilia, and Grim moved to stand on the opposite side. Kalim grinned widely at Leona while Lilia softly snickered into his hand. 

Grim put his paws on his hips. “Let’s get this thing over with. I wanna go grab some more food from the festival stalls before they pack everything up!” 

Cheka solemnly nodded at the girl. “Bring Unca Leona and Ms. Yuu to me, Zahara.” 

Zahara slipped between them to grasp their hands, dragging them forward behind her. Leona loudly sighed and questioned his earlier decision to avoid Kifaji. There was no escaping Cheka with the others here. Especially the prefect, who jabbed his ribs again when he when he didn’t budge from Zahara’s tugging. “Just play along.” 

It was Leona’s turn to roll his eyes towards the ceiling. He stood his ground for about half a second—finding the little girl’s impatient grunting to be amusing—before another jab forced him to “play along.” By the time Zahara presented them to Cheka, his nephew had already become distracted with adjusting the throw blanket over him like a robe. A polite cough from Lilia snapped Cheka’s attention back to them. “Oh, right! Estimated peoples! We came here today to, uh, join the macaronis!” 

“Macaronis?” Timmy—or Pupa, Leona honestly didn’t know which of Cheka’s friends was which, but it was the scrawny looking one—repeated. His head bobbed around in a way that reminded Leona of a meerkat peeking out of his tunnel. “What does macaronis gotta do with anything?” 

“It sounds tasty,” Pupa said with the same dopey smile he’d had since Leona arrived. 

“I dunno what the macaronis do,” Cheka said with a shrug. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders again when it slipped. “But that’s what they said.” 

Timmy’s entire face wrinkled. Zahara jabbed his ribs in the same way Yuu had jabbed Leona. “Hush! We’re not done yet.” 

Leona never thought he’d empathize with one of Cheka’s friends, but the exasperated sigh from Timmy had him nodding in agreement. Lilia leaned over and whispered quietly in Cheka’s ear. Cheka’s ear twitched. Leona glared at Lilia when he fell back into his place with a giggle. 

Cheka threw out his hands. “Present the bracelets!” 

Yuu offered her bracelet to Cheka without hesitation. Cheka shook his head. He leaned forward and in a loud whisper said, “You gotta give it to Unca Leona, Ms. Yuu!” 

Leona’s fingers rolled over the beads of the bracelet Zahara had forced onto him. A memory whispered at the back of his thoughts, but Lilia’s giggles and Grim’s bemoaning “Hurry up!” chased it away. Yuu did as Cheka said and offered the bracelet to Leona instead. When Leona didn’t immediately accept it, she gently swung it from the tip of her finger. “Don’t make me put this on you myself.” 

Leona snorted. Deciding the quickest route to escaping all this was to play along, Leona took the bracelet from her. He tossed the other bracelet he held at Yuu, figuring that was his role in this weird game. He smirked when Yuu scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground. 

“The bracelets are presented,” Cheka happily exclaimed. He hopped in place on the bench. Leona took a small step forward when Cheka’s bouncing put him perilously close to the edge of the bench (because Sade would chew his ear off if Cheka broke an arm). “Holy macaronis is complete! Now you go whoopsie, and I get a cousin!” 

It was the first time Cheka’s prattling had left Leona completely speechless. His ears twitched from Kalim’s happy applause and Cheka’s friends’ mixed reactions of excitement and childish disgust. Lilia’s giggles had morphed into deranged cackles again. Grim’s head swiveled between them all. “I don’t get it. Is this another weird human thing? ‘Cause last I checked, macaroni was for eating, not...whatever this is.” 

Leona whipped his head towards Yuu. Her expression had completely flattened save for the small wrinkle between her eyebrows. She slowly blinked when Cheka jumped off the bench and tackled her legs. His thin tail swished behind him like an excited dog. “Can you give me a cousin before you leave? I want him to come to my next birthday party!” 

The whispered memory roared to the forefront of Leona’s tangled thoughts. Sade’s stupid friend—the one who had a shotgun wedding last summer. The one Sade kept calling a “whoopsie wedding” because she wasn’t about to sit down and explain to Cheka why everyone kept whispering about a missing baby. Sade had even said the couple exchanged bracelets they had made instead of rings because it was trendy or something equally as stupid. 

The kids—being kids—didn’t notice the new stiffness in the prefect or the shift in Lilia’s cackles. They huddled around Yuu and celebrated with happy cries. Cheka was the first to break away, and then it was like nothing had happened. Cheka took off across the room, and the other three naturally followed, the two boys grabbing an unsuspecting Grim and dragging him along with them. The direbeast sputtered when he was forced to sit between Cheka and Zahara while Timmy and Pupa served them imaginary plates of grilled beetles. 

Kalim was easily pulled into the game, “eating” his pretend beetles with gusto alongside Cheka. Lilia cackled and patted Leona’s elbow. “What an exciting way to end our adventure here! Now, you take care of our dear prefect. I know plenty of young men who will have a thing or two to say if you make too big of a whoopsie." 

An awkward cough from Yuu was the only thing that prevented Leona from snapping at Lilia’s retreating back. She wouldn’t look at him, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. “So, uh, that was something. Cheka has such a creative imagination.” 

Leona’s scowl flipped into a wide grin. He flicked his tail in her direction. She jumped when his tail brushed the back of her hand. His grin widened. "Imagination? You were the one who made the bracelet for me. You want me to believe you didn’t understand the significance behind it?” 

Yuu’s head snapped in his direction just as he had anticipated. Her eyes narrowed at him with obvious doubt. “It’s just a bracelet.” 

Leona hummed. He plucked at the larger red beads of his bracelet, feeling the shallow engravings in the glass beads. “I’m shocked you don’t have the Sunset Savanna’s traditions memorized by now. Jack brags about your dedication to learning Twisted Wonderland’s history after every little study session you froshes have.” 

The sunburn Yuu had developed over the last day slightly deepened in hue across her face. “I don’t exactly have the time to memorize every single country’s traditions. I’m the only one responsible enough to clean up all you boys’ messes after all.” 

Leona held back a derisive snort. He saw straight through her attempts to distract him, and he wouldn’t let her divert the embarrassment so easily. “Now I’m hurt. You’ve memorized the magical principles of alchemy but not engagement rituals? If I didn’t know any better, I'd say you were toying with my emotions.” 

“Engagement ritual?” Yuu didn’t sound nearly as scandalized as he would have liked, but where she was able to control her tone, her flush spread unhindered down her neck. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What does a child’s imaginary game have anything to do with engagement rituals?” 

Leona clicked his tongue. He lifted his forearm and twisted his wrist for her to get a good look at his bracelet. The lie unfolded with the same ease as one of Vil’s flimsy little hand fans. “You see the symbol on these red beads? Couples once used the same symbol to proclaim their intentions of courting. If both parties accepted the courting, they’d paint the symbol on their foreheads with the same juice from the baobab fruit used to paint the Prince of Beasts forehead at his birth.” 

Yuu’s eyes remained narrow, but Leona caught the quick flick down to her own bracelet. She lifted her arm a second later and shook it with enough force to make the loose bracelet bounce against her smaller wrist. “All right then. Say I believe you. What’s the green beetle and yellow lion faces on my bracelet meant to symbolize in this so-called courting?” 

Leona barely blinked. “The green beetle is a promise to provide in even the harshest times. It was once said that the Prince of Beasts survived on a diet of insects after he became lost in the wilds beyond the savanna. Hence the symbolism.” He paused until he saw the slight widening of Yuu’s eyes, a subtle sign of her buying his lie. “I’d say the lions are pretty obvious. A promise of strength and protection.” 

That subtle hint of naivety instantly disappeared behind the prefect’s default blank expression. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up to fully meet his gaze. The flush had paled to nothing more than a sunburn again. “Strength and protection, huh? Then shouldn’t the lions be on your bracelet? A promise from me for strength and protection? Because last I checked, it’s a pretty accepted fact that lionesses are tougher on the savanna than you broody, princely lions.” 

Leona sighed. He mimicked her posture, though his added slouch gave a hint of natural conviction. “Strength doesn’t come from just brute power. Wit can outmaneuver a flying fist with the right amount of flexibility and awareness.” 

“You’re so full of crap. Next, you’ll try to tell me a baboon’s ass is the symbol of wisdom around here.” 

Leona chuckled, finding her shift from gullible embarrassment to sharp skepticism amusing. He casually flicked his wrist while at the same time turning away from her. “If you want to be so dismissive of our traditions, I won’t stop you. More sympathy for me—the poor prince so callously rejected by an ignorant proposal. You can be the one to tell the brat he won’t be getting his whoopsie cousin anytime soon.” 

Yuu didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll tell Sade you made Cheka cry for no reason.” 

Leona stopped short and shot her a narrowed glare. He lightly hissed between his teeth. “The guards wouldn’t allow you close enough to speak to Sade even if Kifaji wasn’t the one watching the brat today.” 

Yuu arched one eyebrow. “Did you forget I have her cellphone number to video call Cheka? She’s even told me to text her if you ever gave me trouble.” 

Leona was going to have a chat with his sister-in-law. This was why he had never brought anyone around to visit—even if he had cared to bring anyone from NRC home, giving Falena and Sade direct access to people he associated with? Leona would rather eat vegetables for the rest of his life. 

Still, he couldn’t help but prod at Yuu’s renewed confidence. “And will you be telling her about our whoopsie marriage too?” 

Yuu’s eyelids lightly fluttered. “Well, someone has to confirm if Cheka has the authority to officiate a marriage, being a recognized prince and all.” 

Leona snorted and left when he caught Lilia shooting a wide grin in his direction. He wasn’t about to be stuck playing pretend with Cheka and his friends because the prefect thought she could use the threat of Sade to manipulate him. It was worth the risk of running into Kifaji again and being dragged to a boring, business luncheon. He could handle a slime-ball businessman; he wasn’t about to sit around here and lick the air pretending it was a grub soup with Lilia giggling on the side. 

A few days later, with the Cloudcalling Festival behind them, Leona pointedly ignored the bracelet Yuu continued to wear to classes and pretended the matching bracelet wasn’t stashed away in a drawer of his desk where even Ruggie wouldn’t find it. 

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

walburga thinks sirius is a gift from hecate. her family thinks she's going mad but she knows better, it just makes so much sense.

the healers had said that she'd never be able to conceive, and she'd already had two miscarriages trying to prove them wrong, so she started praying - going back in her timeline to her forefathers, the high priests of hecate, and begged her for a son; performing rituals under the moon, leaving food, doing blood magic, burying stillborn puppies. her brothers told her she was hysterical, even mad, until she conceived. they were silenced, then.

she did these rituals monthly, then, till sirius was born. 3rd November, 1959, something else she considered to be a direct sign from the goddess. he was born on a waning crescent phase, when hecate's powers were strongest. furthermore, he was born right after samhain, the festival for the relationship between the living and the dead. he was born under an omen of power, she was convinced, the Black heir who would have ties to dead and the alive.

when regulus was born, she was confused. initially, she had been thrilled - another blessing? another miracle? - but there were no signs from hecate. regulus was born on a full moon, he was a virgo, there were no festivals, no nothing. maybe she resented him for giving her hope and disappointing her, maybe he was the one who she truly loved and cared for like a son, not like how she cared for sirius - distantly, almost like she worshipped him.

walburga continued her rituals, her worship of hecate, and took sirius with her from the very first day, when he was still an infant, put him on altars instead of pedestals. she took him to altars and taught him greek before english - isolation was a small price to pay for greatness.

she had no reason to believe sirius would be anything less than great - until he started rebelling, of course.

it started small.

walburga had been afraid to send sirius away for hogwarts, but she did, and two months later she got a letter from sirius saying he hadn't been cleansing himself with burnt herbs before rituals because his friends asked too many questions. that was the first sign. there were others. many, many others. she didn't plan on letting sirius return to hogwarts after he finally returned to the altar home for christmas break (what if he stopped performing rituals altogether?), but orion sent him off without her permission.

(she prayed about it. sirius cleansed himself. hecate was still with her.)

when sirius was sixteen, he said walburga was crazy. he said that he hadn't performed the rituals in years, that he knew all about the sacrifices, that it was all bullshit. he ran away. walburga broke. she cried, she begged her goddess to give her her god son back, and then sadness turned to anger, and she yelled and hurt and cursed - how dare sirius throw something so great away? how dare he betray his blood, but more importantly, his destiny? the miracle he was? did he not know hecate would abandon him? and hecate did, yes, yes she did, because sirius went to azkaban, and walburga knew he didn't kill the potters but he'd committed blasphemy, something infinitely worse, so she let him rot. had he continued his worship, she could've protected him, guided him - instead, she let her hounds of the underworld claim him, let the dementers gnaw at his soul. as he deserved.

when sickness got to her, and she was left alone in an empty house, weak and helpless, she wondered if hecate had abandoned her, too, abandoned her for letting the brightest star burn out.

[salt-clangen]

Moon 16

Green Leaf

Lynxdawn was a miracle worker—Snowspeckle was sure of it. In less than a moon, Nightleap was already up and moving again. It had taken countless poultices and strict nest rest, but her wound had finally closed, leaving behind a fresh pink scar. It was rigid and sensitive, but it held her mate’s weight again.

Just in time for Greenleaf’s sweltering heat to settle over the clans. Snowspeckle was grateful for the ocean breeze that cut through the rising temperatures, though she knew her darker-furred clanmates struggled more with the heat. That was why, in the cool hush of early morning, she asked Nightleap to join her on a gathering patrol.

The black molly agreed without hesitation—any excuse to spend time with her beloved—and the two of them set out with their baskets.

Snowspeckle chatted as they walked, her voice light and warm. She spoke of the upcoming Longest Day Festival, the decorations SaltClan was tasked with, and how HoneyClan’s artisans had kept their assignment simple: crafting flower, bee, and sun charms to hang at the gathering place. They wandered the shore collecting wood and cordage materials, the gentle rhythm of Snowspeckle’s words soothing Nightleap’s nerves.

But there was a nagging thought she couldn’t shake.

“I think we should have another litter,” Nightleap blurted out.

Snowspeckle froze mid-step, her words cut short. She turned to face Nightleap fully, expression unreadable. “You do?”

Nightleap shrugged, but excitement flickered beneath her nonchalance. “Yeah. I think we’re in a good place. It’d be nice.”

Snowspeckle hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t think now is the time.”

The answer hit like a wave crashing against rock. Disappointment surged in Nightleap’s chest, hot and sharp. She turned away, ears twitching as she resumed walking, silent.

Snowspeckle hurried after her. “It’s just—my first kitting was hard to recover from,” she explained, voice gentle but firm. “And I’m deputy now. I need to focus on my duties.”

Nightleap didn’t respond. Her jaw was tight, her steps clipped.

The tension between them crackled like fire, thick and oppressive. Snowspeckle sighed, then cut in front of her, stepping into her space and pressing their foreheads together.

“Hey.” Her voice softened. “Talk to me.”

The warmth in her tone shattered the last of Nightleap’s restraint.

“I…” Nightleap exhaled sharply, ears flicking back. “I want another litter so I can be there when they’re young.” She swallowed hard, shame creeping into her voice. “I feel like I don’t have a strong bond with our sons. It feels weird even calling them that.”

A shadow crossed Snowspeckle’s face. She stepped back, tail flicking. When she spoke, she fought to keep her voice even.

“Kits aren’t do-overs or second chances.”

Nightleap flinched. “I know! I know. But it’s how I feel.”

“You don’t need another litter to grow closer to them,” Snowspeckle said, her voice gentler now. “You might not be close now, but there’s still time. You have so many chances to bond as they grow.”

She let the words sink in before adding, “Think about how close you and Ripplepaw have gotten. It’s not impossible.”

The morning sun peeked over the horizon, turning the air muggy and thick. Nightleap shifted uncomfortably, struggling to find the right words.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” Snowspeckle murmured, stepping closer to press a fond lick to her cheek. “Let’s get to the trees, stay out of the sun while we work. Yeah?”

Nightleap nodded and shyly bumped her head against her mate’s. She still felt the weight of disappointment, but Snowspeckle was right—she needed to try.

Her paws felt heavy as they made their way to the tree line, but as she caught the warmth in her mate’s gaze, something in her chest lightened.

Everything was going well for Mallowstripe. Every day, he courted Shadowdive, bringing the large tom gifts and lingering by his side. In turn, Wolfstar courted him—her words and gestures flustering him even as he worked.

Even under the sweltering Greenleaf sun, with the fires and ovens making the air thick and oppressive, he felt giddy whenever either of them approached. They seemed to enjoy teasing him—Shadowdive smirking as Mallowstripe stuttered through the day’s meal plans, pressing his heavy body against the smaller tom’s side. Wolfstar, on the other paw, would murmur praises in his ear, for the food and for him.

It was perfect. Exactly what he had always wanted.

So why did his heart race like he was being hunted? Why did the shadows stretch too long at night? Why did he brace for the worst every time a cat entered camp too quickly?

Nothing was wrong. He knew that. Nothing was happening. There was no immediate danger, no reason for his paws to shake or his stomach to churn. His life was too good to ruin with his nerves.

And yet, when Wolfstar was gone too long, he hid behind the oven or curled up in the warriors’ den, shivering like a leaf caught in a storm. He tried what Darkfold had taught him so many moons ago—deep breaths, counting on the exhale—but it didn’t help.

Mallowstripe felt powerless, out of control. Embarrassed.

Today’s panic hit at sunhigh, nearly halfway through the moon. It started slow—prickling at the base of his tail like ants crawling under his fur. He tensed, willing himself to push through, to focus on the evening’s meal preparations. The camp was mostly empty, warriors and apprentices dozing in the dens through the worst of the heat.

And still, the feeling spread, creeping up his spine, bristling his hackles. His face itched, his scar burned, and the heat from the oven pressed in like suffocating paws.

It was too easy to lose everything.

The thought seized him, and he gasped, choking on his own breath. He pressed himself against the stone wall, claws sinking into the sand as images flashed behind his eyes—scenes of terror and death. Memories. Possibilities. He squeezed his eyes shut against them, trembling all over.

A small paw pad pressed against his hip.

A normal warrior would leap at the unexpected touch. Mallowstripe only curled in on himself.

Pathetic.

The ringing in his head made it hard to hear, but someone was speaking. He forced his eyes open and found Coralkit standing over him, her wide, curious gaze locked onto his.

He let out a shaky breath. The sight of her—so small, so unaffected by whatever monsters lurked in his head—was enough to drag him back, at least a little. Still shaking, he retracted his claws and tried to shift away.

But Coralkit was nothing if not stubborn. She pressed in closer. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her to go away—to shove down the shame clawing at his throat—but he couldn’t. She nosed her way under his chin, tucking herself against him, small enough to fit between his cheek and shoulder.

It was too hot for this. His pelt burned, but her nose was cold against his fur. She purred—a small, trilling sound, forced and high-pitched, like she wasn’t used to doing it on purpose.

Still, it soothed him.

He hadn’t even realized he was crying until he felt the warm, salty wetness on his fur.

They stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for his chest to stop aching and his breathing to steady. When he finally purred back, her own purr wobbled, going even higher.

At last, Coralkit pulled away, no doubt sweltering in her thick coat. She stood, peering up at him. “Is it better?”

Mallowstripe swallowed, his throat dry. “Y-yeah. A lot better. Th-thank you.”

Her tail flicked, pleased. “Are you ready to go to ma—Lynxdawn?”

He stiffened at the suggestion. The movement didn’t escape her shining eyes.

“It’d be good,” she pressed gently. “She can help. She says clerics take care of every part of a cat, even their mind.”

Mallowstripe couldn’t meet her gaze. “I think I’ll be fine.” He forced a smile, ears flicking back. “I’ll go if it happens again.”

Coralkit frowned, clearly unconvinced. “But this has happened before. A lot. Like, every day at least.”

She took a step closer, like she might curl up against him again, but this time, he stood.

Her ears dropped. He could see it in her face—like he’d just cut her off, shut her out.

Shame burned under his fur. What kind of warrior needed comfort from a kit?

“It’s fine,” he insisted, voice sharper than intended. “I can handle it.”

“But—”

“I said it’s fine!” He snapped, his tail lashing.

A normal kit would have flinched. Would have run off, tail tucked.

But Coralkit was not a normal kit.

She held her ground, her expression shifting—not scared, not angry. Just… sad.

“I thought you were dying,” she murmured.

Mallowstripe stilled, her words knocking the breath from his lungs. “What?”

“The first time I saw it happen, I thought you were hurt.” She scuffed a paw against the ground. “But then you got up again. And this time, you… you looked like Fennelheart when he was sick.”

A chill seeped into his bones despite the heat.

He had never considered what it must look like from the outside. What it must feel like for a kit to witness.

Coralkit kept her gaze on her paws. “It was really scary. So I came to check on you.”

Mallowstripe swallowed hard. “How long have you known?”

“A couple days.” She shrugged, though he suspected longer.

“Does… does your mother know?”

She shook her head, ears flicking.

He hesitated. He should brush it off, tell her he was fine. But she wasn’t wrong.

And she wasn’t going to let it go.

“…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for her help,” he muttered, the words heavy in his mouth.

Coralkit’s face brightened just a little. Without another word, she turned and started leading him toward the cleric’s den.

Mallowstripe followed.

“Skullcap and chamomile.” Lynxdawn’s voice was soft, as if she was afraid he might startle. “Keep it in the kitchen—make a big bowl of tea in the morning and sip it throughout the day.”

She slid the bundled herbs toward him, and he hooked a gentle claw under the twine, pulling them closer. He sniffed the leaves, focusing on the earthy scent as if it might ground him.

“You need to talk to someone.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Mallowstripe ducked his head, his throat tightening.

“You won’t get better without talking it out,” Lynxdawn pressed gently.

His chest clenched. “I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing wrong. I shouldn’t be this anxious.”

“There’s plenty to be worried about,” she countered, her tail brushing his side as she turned to scan her stores. “The tensions with the clans, the strange dreams, the dead ends about Lostclaw…”

He stayed quiet, ears twitching at the distant sounds of camp—warriors stretching, kits squealing, the low murmur of conversation as cats returned to their duties.

Lynxdawn didn’t let the silence linger. “You’ve always been nervous,” she said, voice patient. “Why is it worse now?”

Mallowstripe shuffled his paws in the sand. “Things are… going well.” His voice wavered, and he let the words trail off.

She glanced at him. “Things are going well.”

He sighed, hesitating before admitting, “With me and Wolfstar and Shadowdive… I just—I worry it won’t last.”

“You’re afraid something bad will happen now that you’re happy,” she murmured.

He nodded stiffly, shoulders drawn tight. “I’ve never been this happy before. I’ve always felt… left behind. Tolerated.” His breath hitched. “But with them, with this courtship, with taking care of the camp… I feel secure for the first time.” A shudder ran through him. “And I’m scared it’s all going to go away.”

Lynxdawn leaned forward, pressing a comforting lick between his eyes.

Tears welled, spilling over despite his effort to hold them back.

In the quiet dark of the den, he stifled his sobs, and she stayed beside him, silent and steady.

Lynxdawn let him cry, her presence warm and unwavering. She didn’t offer meaningless reassurances or tell him everything would be fine—because they both knew life didn’t work that way. But she stayed, and for now, that was enough.

After a while, Mallowstripe sniffled and sat up, rubbing at his damp eyes with a paw. He felt wrung out, but lighter, like he could finally breathe again.

Lynxdawn tilted her head, studying him. “You don’t have to carry this alone, you know.”

“I know,” he admitted, voice raw. And for the first time, he almost believed it.

She nudged the herbs toward him again. “Start with the tea. Let yourself rest. And when you’re ready, talk to them—really talk to them. Wolfstar and Shadowdive aren’t just going to vanish because you’re scared.”

His ear flicked. It was so simple when she said it like that.

“I’ll try,” he said, and this time, he meant it.

Lynxdawn smiled. “Good. That’s all healing really is—trying, a little more each day.”

Mallowstripe let out a breath, slow and steady. His chest still felt tight, but there was something else now, too—a quiet hope, small and fragile but real.

And for now, that was enough.

Entering Saltclan’s camp used to be as simple as leaping down from the low, western rocks. But as the clan grew, defense became paramount. Now, dried bramble bushes crowned the most accessible entries. A cat would have to squeeze through a narrow gap—only two tail lengths of sand between rugged rocks and the high tide—or brave wading through the water.

Crowpaw had visited the camp only once before, on a late night in leaf bare. And as the warm morning sun beat on their back, a prickling suspicion told them that Nightleap was leading them the wrong way. They hesitated, almost ready to voice their complaint when, unexpectedly, Nightleap rounded the rocky wall.

With cautious steps, Crowpaw followed, eyes fixed on the water even at its low tide. Then they were stunned: the familiar rocky barrier gave way to a large, beautiful camp. The bright sun painted the rocks golden, and the surrounding plants shone a vivid green. Even the tide pools practically sparkled.

“Not too bad, huh?” Nightleap asked with a hint of snide amusement.

Crowpaw’s grey eyes widened in wonder. “I’ve never seen anywhere like this…” they whispered.

Nightleap rolled her eyes lightly. “You haven’t exactly been to a lot of places,” She chided, tail beckoning the young cleric to follow.

Soon, the SaltClan cats began to watch as they approached the cleric’s den. Crowpaw recognized Mallowstripe and Snowspeckle immediately—both eyed them with cautious curiosity.

“Nightleap?” The white deputy asked, tone firm.

The dark molly answered quickly. “They were at the border, requesting to visit Lynxdawn.”

Stopping before a large den, Nightleap announced with a tail flourish that didn’t quite match her tone. “Here’s the clerics’ den. A warrior will be waiting outside to escort you back to the border when you’re done.”

Crowpaw bowed politely. “Thank you. I shouldn’t be long.”

Nightleap offered a curt nod—barely a bow, really. Just then, a large tom and a white tabby emerged from a den across the camp.

“Crowpaw,” Wolfstar greeted, offering a proper bow. “What brings you to our camp?”

Taking a steadying breath, Crowpaw replied, “I’m here to ask to borrow medicine from your cleric. Is she here?”

A soft, familiar face appeared as Lynxdawn’s fluffy head peeked out from behind the curtain of her den, followed by a gentle waft of fragrant herbs. “I am.” she said.

Crowpaw pushed past the curtain, uneasy as Wolfstar trailed close behind—the large, brown tom remaining at the entrance.

“Respectfully, Wolfstar,” The apprentice said, voice clipped. “This isn’t a matter that typically needs the leader’s input.”

Lynxdawn raised a brow at them. “We’re a bit more collaborative in SaltClan. Wolfstar and I make most decisions together.”

Crowpaw cleared their throat, not expecting her to side with the leader. “I suppose that’s fine. I’m here for poppy seeds.”

Wolfstar tilted her head. “Poppy seeds? That’s for severe pain. What do you need it for?”

Crowpaw’s tail twitched ever so slightly, though their tone remained steady. “I have a patient in severe pain.”

A tense silence fell as Lynxdawn’s eyes darted between her leader and the nervous apprentice. Finally, with a quick ear flick and nod from Wolfstar, Lynxdawn cleared her throat. “Poppy seeds are very uncommon. How much do you need?”

“As much as you can spare,” Crowpaw replied, voice low.

After a long pause, Lynxdawn sighed. “I’m afraid the seeds are too precious for charity. Perhaps I can offer willow bark instead—if I knew the nature of the injury, I can give you something more specific.”

At this, Crowpaw nearly stormed out of the den, their frustration boiling. “I don’t need to explain myself,” they hissed, tail lashing with a mix of anger and desperation. “But if it matters at all… I need it for Darkfold. Nothing else is working—her joints are swollen, and she can barely walk. I’ve sought help from Mousefoot and Rosedrift, but no one can soothe her pain.”

Wolfstar stepped forward, concern evident in their tone. “And you think poppy seeds will help?”

“It’s the only thing that allows her to stand,” Crowpaw said solemnly. “We’ve run out of our stores, and our artisans say we have too few trades to barter with HoneyClan for more.”

A hush fell among the pair as they exchanged silent looks. Wolfstar’s tail brushed lightly over Lynxdawn’s shoulder.

“Please,” Crowpaw bowed deeply, chest pressed against the cool, leather-lined floor. “I know it’s a big favor, and I can’t offer anything close to its worth—but I need the poppy seeds.”

The apprentice glanced up, uneasy at the look in Wolfstar’s eyes.

“Sit up,” Lynxdawn said gently. “We can send you with our stock.”

“If you can answer our questions.”

Crowpaw’s heart sank, they knew this came at a cost—they’d already revealed too much. Steeling themselves, they squared their shoulders and asked. “What questions?”

Wolfstar’s blue eyes met theirs. “Do you know the name Lostclaw?”

The calm façade in Crowpaw’s expression wavered; the mere mention of the name sent shivers down their spine. They averted their gaze toward the entrance, tempted to escape the interrogation.

“So you do know who she is,” Lynxdawn pressed.

Whipping their head around, Crowpaw was caught off-guard. “It’s a molly?” they stuttered.

Wolfstar’s tone hardened. “What do you know?”

Crowpaw’s pulse raced, and the large molly stepped in, blocking the entrance so no one could see their reaction. “I have obligations to my clan,” they growled, eyes darting nervously between the assembled cats. “I can’t disclose DuskClan’s weaknesses.”

Wolfstar’s voice was icy, “So Lostclaw was a DuskClan warrior?”

“No! I—I meant that…” Crowpaw stammered, heart pounding as they realized how trapped they were. “I don’t know who Lostclaw was, but I’ve heard the name before.”

Lynxdawn stepped in with quiet authority. “Please, Crowpaw. We’ve had signs linking this name to troubling events.”

“Darkfold mentioned it once… when she was more coherent. Our warriors—” They paused, unable to finish.

Wolfstar stepped back, offering Crowpaw space, her tone gentler now. “I know you’re reluctant to reveal too much. But we’re all looking out for DuskClan—and for the clan as a whole.”

Lynxdawn closed the gap, her maternal energy radiating in her soft words. “We believe Lostclaw is a threat to every clan.”

Crowpaw took a long breath, recalling the visions that haunted their nights. “I’ve had dreams that are… different. In them, I see a figure rising from the darkness—eyes that burn like cold fire. It’s not just a warning. It feels like a remnant of something lost, something that wasn’t meant to be a ghost at all.”

Wolfstar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You mean Lostclaw?” she prompted, already knowing the answer.

Crowpaw nodded, then lowered their gaze. “Yes. But there’s more.” They hesitated, then continued in a softer tone. “I was out near the border a few nights ago after the dream, and I saw something… unsettling. I found these deep claw marks carved into an ancient oak.”

They paused, feeling overwhelmed in the tight den. “The marks weren’t there before and they were too deep to be cause by a cat or even a badger.”

The silence that followed the admission was long, in the distance Crowpaw could hear the roar of the ocean. It unnerved them, setting their hackles up.

“It’s best if I get back.” They said dismissively. “Have I answered all your questions?”

Wolfstar nodded, starting to push the jar forward, then hesitated, glancing guiltily at her cleric.

“What about my siblings?” She asked, Lynxdawn sent a sharp look to her now, but she went on. “They haven’t been at the last few gatherings. Are they ok?”

“I can’t tell you.” Crowpaw said firmly, grabbing the twine handle in their teeth.

They march towards the entrance, stopping just short to glance back. “But…if you were asking as their sister…. And not the leader of Saltclan….”

They trailed off, but Wolfstar was quick to nod.

Crowpaw gulped, worrying the twine between their jaws as they thought.

“Greyclaw is…busy. He’s got a lot of responsibility.” They paused, glancing down to speak to the ground. “Ashenstep hasn’t spoken in moons, hardly a word from them.”

Wolfstar tried not to let her heart break, but she was weak.

“Can you ask them, please I know it’s…wrong but can you ask them to meet me at the border by the knotted pine.” She asked, Lynxdawn at her hip, a weight reminding her of her duties. “The night after the gathering. Please tell them.”

Crowpaw doesn’t meet their gaze, tail tucked. “I…. I’m not sure I can, but I’ll…try.”

Crowpaw hesitated, then lowered their gaze. With one last furtive glance at Lynxdawn, Crowpaw turned to leave, their footsteps subdued as Shadowdive stepped forward to escort them home.

The air was thick with humidity as Snowspeckle left camp, making her way west to HoneyClan. The day was just beginning, but already the sun’s warmth pressed down, breaking through the cloud cover in hazy streaks. She moved quickly, crossing the river over the stepping stones, the spray of water a welcome relief against her flank.

“Snowspeckle!” A voice carried on the wind.

Her ears flicked back, and she grimaced as Swiftdance trotted toward her, the blue tabby’s tail held confidently high. Snowspeckle wouldn’t have been surprised if the deputy found amusement in her irritation. The Molly’s tail brushed against her side, a touch far too familiar to be accidental.

Snowspeckle shifted away, keeping her greeting curt. “Swiftdance.”

“I’ll be your guide.” Swiftdance was undeterred by the cold reception. “I know you’re familiar with the way, but I’ll try not to walk ahead so you don’t struggle to keep up.”

Snowspeckle bit back the urge to roll her eyes. A classic Swiftdance move—brag and insult in the same breath. She kept silent and walked forward, ignoring the prickle of frustration as the HoneyClan deputy matched her pace, occasionally letting their pelts brush.

Don’t react, she told herself. She wants a reaction. Just focus on the meeting.

Interactions with HoneyClan always left her gritting her teeth. They carried themselves with an air of effortless superiority, wrapped in honeyed words and casual dismissal. Every meeting was a battle of patience, their condescending nature forcing her to bite her tongue. OakClan boasted out of genuine excitement, proud of their innovations. HoneyClan flaunted with a practiced ease, as if they were the standard to which all others should aspire.

That was why Nightleap had been different. Nervous, humble, content in her skills without the need to prove herself. It was why Snowspeckle had loved her from the start.

The thought occupied her enough that she barely noticed the transition from open plains to the lone hill that cradled HoneyClan’s camp. She entered through the narrow space between dens, only for Swiftdance to press against her once more, the scent of wildflowers clinging to her like pollen.

“Oh, you haven’t changed at all,” Swiftdance murmured, voice laced with amusement.

Snowspeckle’s tail flicked, but before she could snap, Rookstar and his mate, Bluemoon, approached.

“Snowspeckle! Nice to see you,” Rookstar greeted warmly, touching noses with her. “I hope the heat wasn’t too bad. Where’s Wolfstar?”

Snowspeckle nodded respectfully to Bluemoon before answering. “She’s come down with whitecough. Nothing serious, but we didn’t want to risk spreading it.”

Rookstar dismissed Swiftdance with a flick of his tail, and though the deputy left, her scent still clung stubbornly to Snowspeckle’s pelt.

“Some things never change, huh?” Bluemoon said lightly, watching Swiftdance disappear into camp. Her gaze was warm but sharp.

Snowspeckle exhaled slowly. “No, they don’t.”

Rookstar led them to a shaded patch of soft grass, lined with vibrant flowers. “Would you like some tea?” he offered, waiting as Bluemoon settled beside him.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She gave an awkward smile. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Rookstar, unbothered, nuzzled his mate before rising. “I’ll bring you some, love.”

As he padded away, Snowspeckle finally noticed the curve of Bluemoon’s belly.

“You’re pregnant,” she said, blinking in surprise.

Bluemoon purred, amused. “I am. This will be my third litter.”

“Congratulations.” The words came easily, but an itch of unease remained under her pelt.

“Thank you. I’m fortunate to have such a supportive mate.” Bluemoon sighed contentedly. “Your kits are nearly warriors now. You must be excited.”

Snowspeckle wasn’t sure if it was a dig or a genuine observation. Bluemoon was more tolerable than most HoneyClan cats, but even she had a way of prodding at sore spots.

“I’m thrilled,” Snowspeckle answered smoothly. “They’ll make great warriors.”

Bluemoon didn’t push further as Rookstar returned, carrying a bowl for his mate before settling beside her. “Thank you for coming. I hope you don’t mind Bluemoon being present—I’d rather not be away from her this far into her pregnancy.”

“I don’t mind,” Snowspeckle replied politely. “Let’s begin.”

The meeting dragged into sunhigh, the heat growing heavier as they discussed OakClan and DuskClan. Rookstar spoke of OakClan’s scent lingering past the borders, particularly near their graveyard. Archstar dodged all attempts to address it, claiming it was handled, yet the scent always returned.

Finally, after enough incidents, they realized it was the same cat each time. No one Rookstar recognized, but HoneyClan planned to identify them at the next gathering.

Swiftdance even returned with a broken tree branch, unusually serious as she asked Snowspeckle to scent it. The scent was undeniably OakClan—but unrecognizable to her.

For her part, Snowspeckle shared what little they had learned from DuskClan. The abandoned nest’s border remained unstable, and though encounters had been civil, there was an underlying unease. She mentioned the nightmares and Crowpaw’s vague revelations. None of it provided answers.

“Well, I’m sorry you traveled all this way for so little,” Rookstar sighed, tail flicking in frustration. The weight of the unknown bore heavily on him.

“It’s alright. I wish I could’ve been more help.” Snowspeckle exhaled, rubbing at her temple. “It’s awful, being kept in suspense. Just waiting for something to happen.”

Rookstar nodded, lost in thought.

A sudden gasp from behind startled Snowspeckle. She turned to see a large apprentice staring at her, amber eyes wide.

“Sunpaw, don’t be rude,” Bluemoon chided, though the tom remained transfixed.

Rookstar beckoned him closer. “This is our son, Sunpaw. He’s a little older than your kits.”

Sunpaw beamed and bowed—deeply, clumsily. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Snowspeckle chuckled. “Nice to meet you too. What are you training as?”

“I’m gonna be an artisan!” he announced proudly, fur fluffed up with excitement.

“That’s lovely!” Snowspeckle purred. “I’m an artisan as well. I look forward to seeing your crafts.”

Sunpaw nearly vibrated with joy. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

She laughed. “You said that already.”

His eyes grew impossibly round. “It’s just—you’re a deputy! And an artisan! That’s so cool!”

She blinked, taken aback by his enthusiasm. “It’s not common, but there’ve been a few before me.”

“None that I’ve met,” he whispered, awed. “This is awesome.”

Bluemoon and Rookstar exchanged amused glances, clearly surprised by their son’s eagerness. His openness was unlike HoneyClan’s usual smooth confidence, and yet, Snowspeckle found herself unexpectedly warmed by it.

For the first time that day, she felt the trip had been worth it.

That feeling lingered, even as she left, even as Swiftdance escorted her, even as the sun-scorched rocks burned beneath her paws. And even as she washed the scent of another molly from her fur in the tide pools, she couldn’t shake the smile tugging at her whiskers.

It was late at night when Wolfstar pulled Lynxdawn from her nest. The kits were snoring, curled up in a warm heap, undisturbed as their mother stepped out into the cool night air.

Blinking sleep from her eyes, Lynxdawn yawned widely. "What’s going on?"

"I had a dream. I think it was a vision." Wolfstar shuffled her paws, glancing around as if making sure they were alone.

It took Lynxdawn a moment to realize they were. No Shadowdive or Mallowstripe trailing at Wolfstar’s heels, no comforting presence flanking their leader. The sight was unsettling—Wolfstar was rarely alone, let alone looking this shaken.

The silence pressed heavy between them, thick as the salt in the air. "Can we go to the waves?" Wolfstar asked, her voice quiet but urgent.

"Yeah." Lynxdawn yawned again but followed the white molly to the edge of camp, where the ocean kissed the shore.

Technically, they had stepped beyond the camp’s boundaries, just past the jagged rocks that marked the entrance. But they were still visible from the dens, and the crashing waves muffled any conversation, granting the illusion of privacy.

The cool water lapping at Lynxdawn’s paws woke her fully. "What did you see?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence. Wolfstar was not often one to hold back.

"I was here." Wolfstar murmured, pressing a paw into the wet sand. "But the sand was white—like old bones. And the sea was red."

Lynxdawn stiffened. This was surely a vision. "Did anything happen?"

Wolfstar hesitated. "A cat rose from the waves, their fur blending into the bloody water. Their eyes—her eyes—were gone. Just empty, black holes."

A shiver ran down Lynxdawn’s spine. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to retreat from the tide, to step away from the lapping water. But she stayed firm.

"Her jaw hung open," Wolfstar continued, voice barely above a whisper. "I could see everything inside—her teeth, the soft flesh of her mouth. She rose from the horizon, walking on the water like it was solid ground. Closer and closer, until I couldn’t move. I woke up when she pressed her nose—if she had one—to mine."

The wind picked up then, tugging at their fur. Lynxdawn swallowed, the vision digging cold claws into her stomach.

"This was surely a vision," she said firmly, though her own conviction wavered. Her gaze flicked to her leader, studying her haggard expression. "But from who? That’s the question."

Wolfstar’s jaw clenched. "Do you think... do you think it wasn’t StarClan that led me here?"

Lynxdawn balked, her breath hitching. "How could you say that? You met Nettletuft! Clouddawn practically raised me!"

Wolfstar flinched. "I know! Maybe they did lead us here, but it feels like... like something else set this in motion."

The wind died suddenly, an eerie stillness settling over them, as if the coast itself held its breath.

"We need faith now more than ever," Lynxdawn said, voice steady despite the dread curling in her belly. "We were ordained by StarClan many times. You can’t forget that."

Wolfstar was silent, her hackles raised as she stared out at the sea. When she finally turned back, Lynxdawn recoiled at the wild look in her eyes—red-rimmed, bloodshot, frantic.

"Do you think the prophecies about us were sent by the Dark Forest?" Wolfstar’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but the words felt like a snarl in Lynxdawn’s ears.

A sickening chill twisted in Lynxdawn’s gut. The image of her kits, sleeping soundly in their nest, grounded her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were suddenly... unprotected.

"We should go back." She straightened, hackles rising. Everything felt wrong out here—the ocean, the air, and most of all, the way Wolfstar was looking at her.

But Wolfstar wasn’t finished. "Do you think StarClan sent us here to correct what was told to my mother? Doesn’t it feel like we aren’t welcome here?"

"We are blessed by StarClan!" Lynxdawn snapped, stepping back.

"There’s something else here, Lynxdawn." Wolfstar’s voice was a hiss, her eyes gleaming feverishly. "Something that was here before us. And it wants us out."

Lynxdawn reared onto her hind legs and shoved her. Wolfstar collapsed into the wet sand with a startled gasp as the waves rushed over her, soaking her fur.

"Enough!" Lynxdawn barked, breath coming fast.

Wolfstar coughed, sputtering as seawater stung her nose. But as she sat up, something in her posture shifted. Her body sagged, the manic glint in her eyes dimming, as if she had just woken from a fever dream.

"I’m sorry," she murmured, shaking out her drenched fur. "I don’t know why I said that. I’m just... I’m so worried. I don’t know what to do."

Lynxdawn exhaled, still rattled but unwilling to let her leader suffer alone. "I’ll make us some tea for the stress," she offered. "Maybe it’ll help us sleep tonight. We’ll talk more in the morning."

They pressed their foreheads together, purring despite the unease still coiled in their chests.

As they turned to leave, something blocked their path.

Lynxdawn stopped short, her stomach dropping like a stone. "Was that there before?"

Wolfstar stepped in front of her, bristling. "No."

A dark shape lay in their way, its scent curling into Lynxdawn’s nose—a mix of feathers and fish. Wolfstar padded forward cautiously, eyes scanning the darkness for an unseen enemy.

"It’s a puffin," she murmured.

They drew closer. Lynxdawn hesitated before lowering her nose to inspect the bird. Its scent was fresh. Too fresh.

"Wolfstar," she whispered, voice trembling. "Look at it."

Wolfstar crouched beside her, peering at the lifeless bird. "It’s covered in claw marks."

The words felt like ice sliding down Lynxdawn’s spine. The scent of blood was sharp in the air. Wounds marred the puffin’s body—deep, deliberate. Its wings were stretched out unnaturally, as if it had been flying when it died.

"I’ve never seen a dead bird look like that." Wolfstar swallowed, glancing around the darkness.

Lynxdawn’s breath hitched. "This was placed here." Her voice was barely audible over the crashing waves. "This was placed here by something."

Sage, rosemary, tansy.

Sage, rosemary, tansy.

Sage, rosemary, tansy.

The words echoed in Lynxdawn’s mind like a drumbeat.

Those were the essentials for protective channeling—the bare minimum she needed to safely invoke a patron.

But was it enough?

She clenched her jaw, scanning the shelves of her den.

Cedar for banishment. Thistles to ward off spirits. Hawthorn, betony, thyme—any of those could add another layer of protection.

But what about clarity? If she was calling on a patron for guidance, shouldn’t she include something for that too? Calendula? Lilac? Eyebright was too scarce, but maybe a rarer herb would make the ritual stronger?

A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. With an irritated grunt, she snatched a dried dandelion from the shelf and chewed it, hoping it would ease her headache.

Mullein. That could work. Burned, it cleansed the spirit of nightmares and possession. She could mix it with beeswax and tallow to make a torch.

Or yarrow. Or mugwort. Or nettles. Or—

“No, basil’s for tools and prosperity,” she muttered, exasperated.

“What is?”

Lynxdawn jumped, fur bristling. She spun around to find Shadowdive standing at the den’s entrance, his dark fur nearly indistinguishable from the shadows behind him.

“Basil,” she said, voice hoarse. “It’s for tools and prosperity.” Her ears drooped with exhaustion. “What are you doing up?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Wolfstar’s on guard, Mallowstripe’s with your kits. Figured I might as well be useful.”

Lynxdawn exhaled sharply, turning back to the shelves. “No offense, but I don’t think you’ll be much help with this.”

Shadowdive didn’t move. He just leaned against the entrance, watching her.

“What’s the issue?” His voice was low, almost gentle.

She huffed, annoyed at herself as much as at him. “I don’t know what herbs to use for the ritual.”

“The channeling ritual?”

She nodded, ears flicking as he stepped inside and sat beside her.

“What’s it for?” His tail brushed against hers.

She hesitated, feeling foolish. “It’s for cleansing and protection.”

His expression darkened into a glare. “I knew that, mouse-brain. I meant, what kind of cleansing?”

Lynxdawn scowled, but at least the embarrassment subsided. “Spiritual cleansing.”

He gestured to the shelves with a large paw. “At least one of these should work, right?”

“That’s the problem!” she groaned. “I have ten different herbs that could work, and I don’t know which to pick.”

Shadowdive tilted his head, ears brushing against hers. “Can’t you just use all of them? Like, one leaf each?”

“That’s not how this works, Shadowdive.” She knocked her head against his shoulder in mild annoyance. "It needs to be a specific combination."

"You don't know the recipe?" Shadowdive asked incredulously. "Shouldn’t this have been part of your training?"

Lynxdawn threw her head back with a groan, tail lashing. "That’s just not how it works!"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Then explain it. I’ve never seen this stuff before."

She sighed, rubbing her face with a paw. "I haven’t either. That’s the hard part about being a cleric. The ritual I’m trying to perform is called invocation—I’m trying to invoke a cat from StarClan. To do that, I need to use the right combination of herbs and items."

Shadowdive’s gaze flicked over the shelves. "And if you use the wrong ones?"

"Either I summon no one... or the wrong patron—one that won’t cleanse or protect us."

His whiskers twitched. "Oh, like how camp keepers invoke Scorchstar to start fires on rainy days." He absently peeked into a bowl on the lower shelf, sniffing at the fine green powder inside.

"Kinda," Lynxdawn said, pulling the bowl away from him with slow, deliberate care, eyeing him like she would an overeager kit. "That’s just prayer—hoping Scorchstar hears and has the ability to help. What I’m doing is channeling. It’s different. The herbs and items act as a sort of sacrifice, eh more like an exchange."

He flicked an ear, nodding for her to continue.

"It’s like saying, ‘Here’s the spiritual energy of these items. Please use it to help me.’ But each herb works differently. Like this one—" She held up a stalk of dried mullein. "Mullein protects against nightmares and spiritual enemies."

"That would help us now, right?" He sniffed it cautiously.

"Yes, but not enough." She set it aside. "It’d protect against nightmares and visions, but we’d still be vulnerable to physical attacks. A strong dark spirit could cause real harm if we aren’t careful."

"Then let’s find something to use with it," he suggested.

She scowled, feeling like she was back at step one. "That’s the problem. What’s the right combination? What’s the next herb?" She huffed, glancing toward the entrance where the sky was beginning to lighten.

Morning was close. Soon, everyone would expect her to walk out of this den with a perfect plan to fix everything.

"Well," Shadowdive said, snapping her out of her thoughts, "what would you use for physical protection?"

She hesitated, and he nudged her. "No thinking. You already know."

Lynxdawn rolled her eyes but answered immediately. "Burdock—it protects the camp and dens."

"And outside of camp?"

She smiled as the answer came easily. "Tansy—it prevents injury and enhances intuition."

"Perfect. What about cleansing?"

"Rosemary clears the mind of doubt. Thyme and sage are good for purifying physical spaces." She pulled a few jars down.

Shadowdive purred, bumping his head against hers. "Anything else?" His tone was smug, but she let it slide.

For the first time in hours, she felt like she was getting somewhere.

Lynxdawn frowned at the gathered herbs, her tail-tip twitching. Was this truly enough? Was it the right combination?

Shadowdive nudged her shoulder again. "You're overthinking it."

She scoffed. "You make it sound easy."

"It is." He stood, stretching. "You’re the expert. You know what you're doing. And if you don’t—" he gave a pointed glance at the herbs, "—figure it out like you always do."

She sighed but didn't argue. He was right, even if she hated to admit it. "I just wish I had more time."

"You don’t," he said bluntly. "Sun’s coming up."

Lynxdawn cast a glance toward the entrance, where the first pale light of dawn was creeping in. Soon, the others would be waking. Soon, they would all be looking to her.

"Then I better get started," she muttered.

Shadowdive hesitated, then flicked her ear with his tail. "Good luck." And with that, he slipped out of the den, his dark fur melting into the disappearing shadows.

Lynxdawn turned back to the herbs, taking a deep breath. No more doubts. No more second-guessing.

She reached for the rosemary first.

Time to call upon the stars.

Cat Allegiances:

Wolfstar- 22 moons. Leader. Responsible. Compassionate. Natural intuition. Apprentice- Ripplepaw.

Lynxdawn- 17 moons. Lead Cleric. Thoughtful. Loving→Faithful. Good teacher.

Snowspeckle- 33 moons. Deputy. Artisan. Loving. Thoughtful. Good singer.

Nightleap- 37 moons. Warrior. Insecure. Sneaky. Incredible runner.

Mallowstripe- 23 moons. Camp keeper. Nervous. Careful. Strange dreamer.

Shadowdive- 21 moons. Warrior. Blood thirsty. Loyal. Good swimmer. Apprentice- Otterpaw.

Ripplepaw - 9 moons. Warrior apprentice. Troublesome. Fearless→ Adventurous. Fast runner. Mentor- Wolfstar.

Otterpaw - 9 moons. Warrior apprentice. Attention seeker→Insecure. Bouncy. Good swimmer. Mentor- Shadowdive.

Dropletkit- 4 moons. Skittish. Shy. Interested in clan history.

Kelpkit- 4 moons. Charming. Quiet. Plays in mud.

Coralkit- 4 moons. Noisy. Bossy. Never sits still.

Sandkit- 4 moons. Impulsive. Noisy. Moss ball hunter

Prev

Next

Moon 0

[mari-lair]

To the moon AU, where Hanako and Kou work at Sigmon Corps, a technological corporation whose clients are the dying, people filled with doubts and regrets, wishing for a different life. Their job is to rewrite their clients' memories so that their ideal life becomes true, diving into their memories, getting to know strangers' lives from the end to how it started so that they can tweak it all, inserting fabricated memories as naturally as they can to give their clients a believable dream life during the minutes before their death.

Hanako is a veteran in the job, the poster boy for the corporation and the one who came up with the 'we grant people wishes!' slogan. Despite his competence, he can't keep a partner for long, tending to isolate himself and overall be hard to work with. Kou is a newbie that was paired with Hanako to get some experience. It was a tough pair-up at first, since Kou gets attached easily to the patients, having trouble staying professionally detached and more than once making himself interactable in memories he doesn't belong to, for he wishes he could be of 'real help'.

Hanako is as charmed as he is annoyed by Kou's meddling at the start, having grown apathetic to people's lives after so many years on the job, so he is mostly dismissive of Kou's struggles, being a good teacher when teaching him how everything works, but not a good friend.

To everyone's surprise, Hanako and Kou, who could always be seen arguing over how the other decided to solve a case, eventually grew inseparable, a fixed pair. Hanako could even be seen trailing after Kou instead of lockng himself in his office, able to smile with genuine joy.

It was a miracle!

Nene is one of their youngest clients, only 27 years old, only two years older than Hanako and Kou, and already on her deathbed. Her request form tells them her wish is to fall in love with a handsome and princely man and be able to live happily with him until they are 100 years old.

She is so young, her case hits Kou hard, but Hanako doesn't care, flipantly commenting that Nene is cute and treating her memory as carelessly as most patients.

At least not at first, but as they walk through Nene's memory, watching her make bad love decisions after bad love decision while trying to stay hopeful and being able to give the people around her all the love she has, they grow attached to.

They fall in love so easily, it scares Hanako, who, for once in his life, has trouble ignoring that this girl is at death door, sleeping for now, and never waking up again. 

Hanako considers making her meet him in high school and make her fall in love with him. Kou is highly against it, claiming it isn't ethical to insert themselve into a patient's life (something Hanako always tells him!!) and that Hanako isn't 'a handsome and princely man' as requested, which Hanako takes some offense to despite Kou being correct. 

Kou wanted to do the patient wishes, insert an incredible boy much better than himself to sweep Nene off her feet during one of her lowest memories and start off their happy love story. Hanako claims Nene would be happy with anyone's love anyways, and is overall acting 'weird', enough for Kou to worry a bit.

Turn out, in one of Nene's earlier memories, she had met Hanako before. When he was a small kid lost in a festival, the younger version of Hanako clearly awestruck by Nene.

Hanako is embarrassed, claiming he didn't remember this, and Kou become more exasperated than angry with Hanako, giving him an earfull 'dude don't use our job to fulfil your dream to get with your childhood crush, this should be about Nene's wish.'

In the end, they fulfill end up fulfilling her wishes and give her a wonderful made-up husband who is rich and popular and beautiful and some of this made up prince charming personality is suspiciously similar to Hanako, but he treat her well. And she is happy. Nene dies in a picture perfect world, happy, but they both feel empty, attending her funeral.

[moonlittales]

I spoke about the shooting star festival with Caldarus in one of my latest posts (or to be more precise, mentioned it) and now I have some additional thoughts that I'd love to share about a potential path the player is walking if they choose to romance Caldarus

Starting of with how I even came up with the idea:

Before I knew what kind of conversation would happen with Caldarus during the shooting star festival, I've had a few random thoughts accompanying me when (as a statue) Caldarus said "The feeling of springtime is unforgettable", since there is a saying that if spring has begun/arrived, someone has fallen in love/is in love. Jokingly I said "What's that? Have you been in love before? Better had been my farmer in a past life 😔" from this point on I've had headcanons of how sweet it would be if that was the case- and because I'm a sucker for the lovers across lifetimes trope xD

Now, you can imagine the way my jaw dropped when I invited him to view the stars with me and he mentioned soul bonds and choosing to believe we may have met in a past life.... Like..? Oh my god? Nahhh, no freaking way, LOL? Are my headcanons ACTUALLY onto something? You know, I for one, definitely WOULDN'T complain if this is the road we follow in his romance route

Going back to the thing he said as a statue, if you have been talking to him in his humanoid form a lot you probably have come across the dialogue where he says that since taking on his new form, his heart sometimes beats faster and he doesn't know why it happens/is concerned whether this is normal... Poor guy, bless him, he's in love already and doesn't get it xD so I guess here I could argue that the "springtime" he previously talked about meant something different. Possible, OR he feels emotions differently in his dragon form? He did say something along the lines that things feel different now (I don't recall in what relation anymore, he could have referred to both physically and emotionally)

On a random note, having played Harvest Moon: Animal Parade I sure hope he does NOT start talking about how lonely and sad he'd be if we, the farmer, die... And leave him.. please don't do this to me, I already had to listen to the wizard say that to me Dx however it may happen since he's basically immortal, and the player isn't. Except a miracle happens and grants us longevity/immortality (HOPIUM COPIUM) (also I guess if we did die, uh.. comforting thought that we'd see him in another life again?! I'm going to imagine my character becomes immortal HAHAHA spare me the pain)

This is basically it! I guess we will find out more about Caldarus' lore, the player's potential involvement in his past in future updates and see how it plays out :) you can be sure as hell that in my personal headcanons they have met in a distant past! His story and romance I can already see to be bittersweet and heart wrenching, Caldarus lovers will all be united by tears.......

[magnetothemagnificent]

A cool Dvar Torah I read:

Parshat HaChodesh, the New Moon, and Eclipses!

This Shabbat we read a special section from the Torah called Parshat Hachodesh. It is the story of the Mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, that we track, observe and celebrate the new moon each and every month. Since the day that G-d commanded Moshe regarding this Mitzvah, two weeks before the grand Exodus from Egyptian slavery, we have kept a close eye on the moon, looking out for that celestial monthly moment of rebirth that G-d showed Moshe that early evening in Egypt. In the Torah, our holidays - Passover, Sukkot, Yom Kippur etc. - are prescribed to happen on a certain day following the new moon: "the fifteenth day after the new moon", "the tenth day after the new moon" and so on. Meaning, that if we wish to celebrate these festivals, we need to keep track of the lunar cycle, even if no one else on Earth gives it a second thought. Along the way, the Jewish people have come to identify with the moon. We can empathize with the moon's ups and downs, so similar to our own history. One moment we're shining bright, the next moment we're so oppressed and persecuted that casual observers have often written us off, predicting our extinction, G-d forbid. And yet the next moment, to their disbelief, we're back, reborn out of the darkness, and growing stronger every day. It's notable that G-d interrupted the flow of events leading up to the Exodus to tell Moshe about Rosh Chodesh. Not only because it seems to be unrelated to what was happening then, but also because by giving that Mitzvah right then, it meant that it would given in Egypt, the darkest spiritual locale in the world. G-d could have waited a couple of weeks until we were out of that spiritual wasteland and told us about Rosh Chodesh in the desert. Why the rush? * Everyone's talking about the eclipse happening Monday afternoon - The Great North American Eclipse. It's a major event that will have millions of people looking up to the Heavens, an event that will not happen again in the USA until 2044. Now, solar eclipses only happen around the new moon. Monday night and Tuesday, Jews will observe Rosh Chodesh. And not just any Rosh Chodesh, but the annual Rosh Chodesh of all Rosh Chodeshes - the first Rosh Chodesh of the year. This means that Monday is the day before rebirth, the day when the moon is at its very lowest, darkest point, the moment that symbolizes the most difficult, challenging times of the Jewish People. And so it turns out that precisely in its smallest, weakest moment, the moon looms largest: it can even eclipse the mighty light of the sun. Is this not our story exactly? Is this not precisely why G-d told this to Moshe in Egypt, in our place of misery and suffering? During the last new moon of our centuries-long sojourn in Egypt, G-d shows Moshe the truth about the miracle of Jewish rebirth and eternity. In the place of our pain, before the redemption, in the midst of the uncertainty, G-d stops everything and tells us to look up at the moon, see our story in the moon's story, and discover in the moon a solid friend, an eternal gentle reminder that it will be okay, that no matter what, Am Yisrael Chai forever. And better yet, as Monday's eclipse shows, our darkest moments are when we shine brightest and loom largest, as we begin the great turnaround, the journey from darkness to light. This Monday will be the 3,336th anniversary of the day G-d showed Moshe the moon. How perfect. During these painful days of antisemitism, the sun, 400 times bigger than the moon, is eclipsed by it. Far from tottering or faltering, the Jewish People are stronger than ever. Precisely when casual observers report us missing, that's when we shine. L'Chaim, brothers and sisters. Our best days lay just ahead. So in the words of the Lecha Dodi which we'll all be singing in just a few hours: "Wake up, wake up! Your light is coming, rise and shine! Time to wake up and say your song, because G-d's glory is revealed upon you."

by Rabbi Eli Friedman, Chabad Calabasas CA

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The generals of rome

Maximus/Acacius x fem!reader warning : No swords or war just the sweet fluffy preference of the two handsome men by your side Summary : On the sixth day in Rome, love will meet the two generals and on this special day they want to give the best gift to someone - you are worthy of their love. info : The most handsome generals Rome has ever seen, I present you Maximus and Acacius and have fun reading ;) masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maximus

The general of the Roman troops, confidant of the imperial family and a man for whom honour, courage and deeds were more important than any coin he might be offered. But above all, his loyalty to his wife, his beloved, which the general tried to live up to every day.

Especially on the day of love, which belonged to the gods, he did something with his wife ,,The festivals may pay homage to the gods, but this day shall be ours" he made the surprise bigger and helped her onto the horse as they both rode out.

Their hands entwined, glances found each other again and again, ,,You alone are enough for me my brave warrior" she only said as she watched the grassland gradually turn to sand, saw the smirk on his lips as his love for her only increased

Helping her off her horse and leading her to the water, a ship appeared on the stek, ,,Building with my own hands, Poseidung shall protect us on the sea for a little voyage" he proudly presented and she saw her name carved on the wood as they boarded the ship.

He had brought food and wine on board, a couch for them both and lanterns that lit up the ship as the sky above them turned to stars, ,,The day is yours forever" he said, and he pulled her into an intimate kiss

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Acacius

Maximus' successor and former confidant, General Acacius was a man who had seen many years come and go. But with his beloved by his side, he would realise how important and loving the day of love can be. How a day like this can be a small dream of a better Rome.

The torches lit up early in the mansion to illuminate the night that was almost over, ,,Forgive me for waking your sleep, but it had to be for this miracle, dear" he apologised as he gave her a gentle kiss on the hand.

He helped her out of bed, wrapping her in his cloak as he took the warmed goblets of wine to keep his love from freezing in the cool dark ,,The party hasn't even begun...I trust in your ability my heart" she replied tiredly and yawned as she leaned her head against his shoulder and felt his hand on hers.

Leading her out of the bedroom, the couple walked into the inner garden, cushions laid out on the chairs and small hot dishes waiting for the last few minutes, ,,Just look up and the gods will show you my affection" he suggested, taking a sip of wine before giving her one last kiss.

Listening to him, she followed his gaze up into the sky, the moon was in it and stars could be seen between the clouds until she saw it ,,Oh Acacus a shooting star!" she exclaimed and pointed into the sky before another and another followed. The whole sky seemed to show her the whole beauty, the gods had answered his prayers and he gave her the gift of heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[teenagechildtyphoon]

The Tale of the Two Cities

Long ago, in a land divided by ambition and strife, there existed two cities: Piltover, the City of Progress, and Zaun, the Undercity of Shadows. Though the cities shared the same sun and moon, they lived in stark contrast. Piltover stood tall and proud, its spires gleaming in the daylight, a beacon of invention and intellect. Zaun, buried beneath its shadow, was a labyrinth of metal and mist, where ingenuity thrived in chaos, and survival was a daily battle.

The people of Zaun told tales of a brilliant boy named Viktor, a child of the Undercity who dreamed of a better world. Born with a frail body but a mind sharper than any blade, Viktor sought to lift Zaun from its misery. He believed machines, not men, could bring justice and equality. In the dim glow of his workshop, he toiled tirelessly, crafting automatons to aid the weak and heal the wounded.

Meanwhile, in Piltover, a prodigy named Jayce pursued progress with equal fervor. Blessed with wealth and opportunity, Jayce dreamed of harnessing the raw power of Hextech, a mysterious fusion of science and magic. While the world celebrated him as a visionary, Jayce often gazed toward the dark silhouette of Zaun, wondering what miracles and mysteries lay hidden within its depths.

Fate, as it often does, brought the two together. Viktor and Jayce met on a fateful night, their paths crossing over a stolen Hexcore crystal. Though their initial encounter was fraught with mistrust, they soon discovered a shared passion for invention. Together, they built machines that blurred the lines between science and magic, believing their creations could unite their divided cities.

But the cities were not ready for unity. The elite of Piltover viewed Zaun as a breeding ground for crime and disease, while the people of Zaun saw Piltover as a city of tyrants who hoarded wealth and power. The inventions of Viktor and Jayce, instead of bridging the divide, became weapons in an escalating conflict.

The tensions came to a head during the Festival of Progress, an annual celebration in Piltover. Viktor, desperate to prove the worth of Zaunites, unveiled his greatest creation: a sentient automaton named Blitzcrank, designed to save lives and protect the vulnerable. But the Piltover Council, fearing the power of Viktor’s mind and machines, branded him a threat. In their arrogance, they sabotaged his presentation, causing Blitzcrank to malfunction and wreak havoc on the festival.

The people of Piltover called Viktor a madman, and the people of Zaun called him a hero. Heartbroken, Viktor retreated to the shadows of the Undercity, vowing to build a world where the weak would no longer suffer at the hands of the strong. Jayce, torn between his loyalty to Piltover and his friendship with Viktor, became the defender of the status quo, wielding his inventions to maintain order.

And so, the tale of the two cities continues. Piltover rises ever higher, its citizens basking in the light of progress, while Zaun digs ever deeper, its people forging hope in the darkness. Viktor and Jayce, once allies, now stand as symbols of their cities’ eternal struggle: the dream of unity, forever at war with the reality of division.

Yet, some whisper that one day, when the stars align and the Hextech hums in harmony, the two cities may finally become one. Until then, their story serves as a reminder: progress is a double-edged blade, and the brightest light casts the darkest shadow.

[gunkbaby]

All Of Shuu’s TG Calender Appearances! (In Chronological Order!)

*this was initially just gonna be a twitter thread but I’m posting it here first bc is easier to draft and arrange. :) Wrote the little information cards that are under the pics and will try to image ID them for the text late one.

Under a cut bc there are twenty-four of them! Enjoy! <3

(I believe the image below is from an anime calender? Or something? I’m not sure.)

January 12th - Skiiing Day

On January 12, 1911, Major Lerch of the Austrian Army first taught a young officer in the Niigata Prefecture how to ski. Be careful when doing tricks!

February 6th - Blog Day

Based on bu (2) rogu (6). A blog post from Shuu, it reads: “February 6 Have you heard of a flower called the ‘Hardenbergia’? It is also called a ‘Komachifuji’ and as its name suggests, it blooms with lovely purple petals. And here is the usual Tsukiyama Shuu’s Flower Language Corner. In flower language, a Hardenbergia refers to: “A fateful encounter.” “Happiness will unexpectedly drop in.” …and the like. There’s also “a miraculous miracle”… —But this is what I think. Encounters are always fateful, and reunions are always miraculous. Fate, miracles, our world is filled with such. This moment is also a miracle.” The comments feature Touka being quite rude, Kaneki adding little of importance, and Yomo not understanding technology.

February 13th - Bank Robbery Day

On February 13th, 1866, the first ever successful bank robbery took place in America by Jesse James.

February 25th - Hori Chie’s Birthday

Hori was Tsukiyama Shuu’s classmate in Seinan High School. Hori treats Tsukiyama as her photographic subject and despite Tsukiyama being a ghoul, she doesn’t fear him. Tsukiyama in return finds her intriguing and treats her as a pet. Their relationship continues on until now making them long-time acquaintances. Whether they have a good relationship or not, it’s difficult to say for sure.

March 3rd - Tsukiyama Shuu’s Birthday. (Obviously.)

Happy Birthday, Tsukiyama Shu.

March 26th - Untitled.

No text.

March 31st - Untitled.

The inauguration (to celebrate the completion of the structure) of the Eiffel Tower in Paris was held today. I wonder if Tsukiyama has ever been to France before.

April 28th - Nice Bath Day no. 3

No text.

May 1st - Untitled. Shu’s second blog post.

This blog reads as follows: ‘Hey, everyone. We have now entered May, yes? Speaking of May 1, it is a custom in France to send muguet (Lily of the Valley) as a present to the person you love on this day. And the recipient is said to be visited by great fortune.” Now then, upon hearing the words ‘the person you love’, whose face do you picture in your mind? How about giving flowers as gifts to him?…Or her? …With that said, that beloved person you just thought of may already be a happy person at this point. Shu.’

May 11th - Salvador Dali’s Birthday

The Persistence of Memory. “I saw three soft Shuus. One of them had a deplorable figure that hanged down from the branch of the olive tree.”

May 27th - Hyakunin Isshu Day

No. 86 Saigo Hoshi “Should I blame the moon, for bringing forth this sadness, as if it pictured grief? Lifting up my troubled face, I regard it through my tears.” Grief? Is that what you’re trying to say, moon? I don’t think so. Did I only just want to blame the moon for this sadness?

May 28th - Fireworks Day.

On this day in 1733, fireworks were launched for the first time for a festival in Ryogoku. The festival was first held by the 8th shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate, Yoshimune, in order to calm the spirits of the dead who fell to the great famine and cholera in the previous years. Now, it is held annually as water god festivies to ward off evil spirits. (Note: turn up the brightness or stare very hard for a long time. He is there, I promise.)

June 9th - 6th Ward Day

A huge amount of members were sacrificed during the annihilation of ‘Aogiri’s Hideout’ in the 11th Ward. Afterwards, Kaneki left ‘Anteiku’ in order to follow Rize’s footsteps and entered a new world, the ‘6th Ward’, alongside Tsukiyama and Banjou.

June 25th - Spaceyama.

No text. Shuu gets a cow and a Strange Thing and his father is proud.

July 20th - The Day of the Moon Landing

On 1969, the human race landed for the first time on the moon in the spacecraft, Apollo 11. At that time, Commander Armstrong sent a message to Earth saying, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”.

August 6th - Handsome Day

Based on ha (8) nsa mu (6).

August 27th -Miyazawa Kenji’s Birthday

A poet and writer of fairy tales who was based in his hometown of Iwate. The paradise of his work was given the name ‘Ihatov’.

In his masterpiece “The Restaurant of Many Orders”, two young men went hunting in the forest, got lost, and strayed into a restaurant called ‘Wildcat House’. The irony of it all is when the two instead became the food.

September 21st - Fashion Show Day

On this day in 1927, the first fashion show in Japan took place in kimono shop called Mitsukoshi in Ginza. At that time, kimonos were mainstream.

September 8th - TG’s 5th Year Anniversary

Serialization strted on Weekly Young Jump No. 41 which was sold on this day in 2011. Thank you very much for reading.

September 9th - Rollcake Day

Based on how the cross section of a rollcake forms a ‘9’. June 6th is also called ‘Rollcake Day’ for a similar reason.

September 16th - Match Day

On this day in 1948, freely selling previously rationed matches was accepted.

October 14th - Glasses No.2

No text.

October 25th - World Pasta Day

On this day in 1995, the World Pasta Congress was held in Italy.

October 26th - Kishimen Day

Kishimen is a slick type of noodle that’s thin and wide in width. Based on tsu (2) ru (6) which means ‘slick’ or ‘slippery’. It is also considered the ‘autumn of appetite’.

December 23rd - Palindrome Day 3

‘Intimidating, Tsukiyama… Will you get burned?’

December 29th - Chanson Day

On this day in 1990, a long-established Chanson cafe in Gonzales called ‘Ginpan’ went out of business. The place was known as a gateway to success for Chanson singers.

Ok I think that’s all :)

Tell me if I have missed one, I will edit. Sorry, am tired from exam prep, hopefully this is okay. I love you so much. I feel like Shuu is always home for me in stressful times.

I’m planning to do one of these for Kanae and Rize too. I can do other characters I guess afterwards.

I own this calender. I think I might like a second one to cut out and make postcards with to go on my Shuu shrine.

[rainbowxocs]

Jonah’s Dream.

A short story I made for our favorite therapist. :D Note this is a past event so if Jonah says something weird like “oh yeah Darrius is alive” just ignore that.

———————

Jonah sat in his office, working on the 50th paperwork of the day. He sighed and took a sip of his tea as he stared down at his work with a mixture of annoyance and boredom. Something he probably wouldn’t show if he wasn’t alone.

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, the blue stars he had decorated the place with softly twinkling. He had tried to make his facility office more inviting than his actual one, most people at his other job don’t really come into his office much besides to ask for the occasional approval for a mission or whatever els-

..oh right.. he.. wasn’t a hero anymore.. He had been so stressed since Darrius had gained more power that.. he guesses he forgot.. Darrius was able to fire him, to take his job away.. but.. he still had the facility at the very least..

He knew Darrius was planning something. Unfortunately Darrius knew how to play the long game, and he did it exceptionally well. Jonah knew he was only a few steps away from completing his “plan”..

What his plan was, Jonah didn’t know. All he knows is that Darrius seemed very cocky about it at the masquerade, forcing Jonah to dance around with him like he was some sort of doll.. It made Jonah sick to his stomach..

He knew Darrius was a starling. and Jonah was.. well.. underneath all the godly titles and prestige, a human.. Jonah didn’t even know how he would begin to fight against a primordial concept like Darrius was.

The information about Starlings was scarce. Jonah spent hours and days sifting through information, but all he had was legends.. And god knows humans are good at playing a game of telephone..

He didn’t know what was actually true about them or what has been over exaggerated over the billions of years these beings have been alive.. Actually before this, Jonah didn’t even think starlings were real.. Just a folk tale told on holidays and during festivals.

Jonah didn’t even know there were multiple, considering most events worship The Sun.. Big statues of them being made in their honor.. It’s said if you gifted them offerings you’d get blessings from the soul of god.. Though when Jonah did it, it never worked.

Jonah sighed and rubbed his face, he hasn’t slept in days. Most of his day is just helping patients at the facility and in his free time trying to find out any information he can on the starlings.

A story about them leveling mountains, stories of the sun and moon being killed by an angry god, a story of the first human and Pluto having a fiddle contest and Pluto losing, stories of miracles happening in unexpected places as if the gods were watching over..

None of this told Jonah though what they WERE though. Where did they come from? What were their weaknesses? The papers and books scattered across his desk didn’t paint a clear picture to him at all.

Jonah’s eyes got a bit crossed.. he probably had been staring for too long.. What time even was I-… He’d be working until 3 am again.. Figures.. He rubbed his eyes and made some space on his desk, before laying his head down in his arms.

He will just sleep here until morning.. It’s not like he has anything to go home to, just an empty apartment.. He.. didn’t want to think about the implications there for too long..

He.. slowly fell asleep at his desk..

…..

He woke up in.. the ruins of his castle.. again.. Figures.. He slowly got up and dusted the ash from off his jacket.. He looked around, thanking the gods it wasn’t actively on fire this time..

He could still faintly smell the roses, though it was overpowered by the smell of burnt wood and remains.. He hated the idea he could come here if he closed his eyes.. but it was better than some of alternatives his brain supplied him.

He held himself as he looked up at some of the remaining stained glass, now blood red. It use to be blue.. he thinks.. It’s been so long now he doesn’t remember..

He paused to think for a moment.. staring down at the rubble below him. Before he took off his gloves and used an illusion spell, in an instant the entire castle seemingly shined with a golden light, restoring itself to its former glory, bright and colorful. People appeared in the castle, servants, lady’s in waiting, all running around and doing chores, seemingly preparing for some kind of event.

One of the women passes Jonah and he suddenly is in his old prince garments. A blue and gold crown placed upon his head. He.. however just stands there, staring at the scene.. Almost afraid if he moves the illusion will be shattered..

He could hear laughter, talking.. It.. really felt like home.. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.. until he heard HIS laugh..

His eyes opened as he looked around, and out of the corner of his eye he- swear he saw him just leave. He quickly ran to the door leading from the foyer to the outside, and looked outside and he saw him going into the nearby forest around the castle.

Jonah quickly ran after him, calling out his name. Though he didn’t respond, he seemed to always be just out of reach.. Jonah weaved through the trees trying to catch up to him- before he tripped and fell onto the grass below him.

He quickly looked up, but James was gone.. Completely disappearing into thin air. He cursed at himself, letting out a sigh.. He looked around him, it appears he had fallen into a clearing, with a circular pool in the middle of it.

He crawled closer to it, and looked down into his reflection. The reflection was distorted, he could barely recognize himself. He peered away for a moment and looked at what appeared to be daffodils around the pool.

He stared at the flowers for a moment, before staring at himself again. Something.. felt like it was pulling him in.. He slowly inched himself closer and closer.. Until he felt something come up in his throat.

He choked and coughed out a mixture of blood and.. daffodils? He stumbled a bit- trying to get away from the water, but in his commotion he fell inside the pool.

He tried to swim upwards, but he sunk down into the darkness. He.. gave up.. staring up at the light from the top of the pond slowly getting smaller and smaller as he sunk deeper and deeper. He began to cry..

Why was he like this?

Why was he so worthless?

Why can’t he do anything right?

He felt himself begin to drown.. and a part of him.. didn’t even care..

How pathetic was that, Jonah? You can’t even fight to stay alive anymore..?

You are nothing without me.

Jonah jolted up, his breath in a panic- tears streamed down his face. His mascara was running..

“God.. I.. really am pathetic..”

[sleepyselkiesims]

Part 75

Unfortunately, a spectacular romance festival didn't miracle away Andre and Hollie's relationship problems...

Ella was especially surprised to find her step-dad curled up in sleep below her bed, instead of cuddled up with Andre like usual.

No one could quite put their finger on what it was, but the Queen household felt strangely tense and lifeless.

They also got some very weird news that brought the mood down. The benevolent god had no clue who this was, but assumed it was a pet. Which meant nothing in the inventory anyways??

Little did I know this was just the beginning...

Maybe the mood would change with a visit from Auntie Siobhan!

Except instead of bringing any erratic chaos, she just invited Andre to have a nice chill time relaxing in the snow, watching clouds roll by...

Then she invited Andre on a little day out! Maybe what he needed was a little reset away from all the ice and snow of the mountains.

To Andre's delight, Siobhan had invited his old friend Christa to hang out with them as well! Andre spent so much time with his family, he sometimes forgot that he'd once been extremely popular.

The hangout was very boring from an audience perspective; just non-stop standing around and talking. But it meant a lot to Andre!

Then more bad news hit... albeit slightly less intensely due to the sims being convinced the family dog had an inventory.

R.I.P., Eclipse. You were a good doggy! I hope Tyrone will be ok without you...

Andre cut his hangout short to go and shower the current family dog with affection. You never know what you have until it's gone...

Andre had mostly wanted to comfort his kids, but Ana was having her first experience with loss and had only seen coping mechanisms in movies. So she wasn't coming out anytime soon. And Ella was off at her new gamer job, and thus also unavailable.

Cinder needed a bit of cheering up, but since he was naturally cheerful it didn't take much to bounce back. And Andre was delighted to have a family member as interested in dancing as him!

When Cinder was tucked into bed, Andre had a moment where it was just him, a sorrowful dog, and his cheery bookworm husband. And he couldn't help feeling something was missing...

Ah well, no time for thinking when you have a giant dog in need of cuddling!

And when the giant dog was cuddled out, the very cuddly Moon came out for her share of affection! Andre was practically drowning in love!

And where was Ellis during all this, you may ask?

He was more adjusted to death than anyone, but he loved any excuse to be extra gloomy, so he was spending the time sobbing at their pet's gravestones, Ironically, that's what made him happiest.

Bonus

Bruno made a friend!

[warriorofthought]

Christmas Reunion

Summary: After many of years longing for Bucky you both meet again at a Christmas feast.

Word count: 683

Warnings: no one

Bucky x Reader 

The Christmas atmosphere seemed to permeate the entire estate as you and Bucky were finally reunited after a decade apart. The festively decorated room glowed with the warm glow of candlelight, while the cheerful murmur of the guests and the tantalizing smell of Christmas treats filled the air. You didn't want to go to the party at first, but now you're glad you did.

Then, quite unexpectedly, you catch sight of Bucky in the hustle and bustle, and your breath is taken away. He may have aged a little, and he doesn't look like he did when you were a kid, but you'd still recognise him. 

Your eyes met and for that moment time seemed to stand still. A hint of nervousness mingled with joyful excitement as you both came to a halt and finally, after so many years, you both walked towards each other and embraced.  Immediately, a feeling of security, love and the feeling that you have both been longing for for years washed over you both. The crackling of Christmas music and the soft rustling of wrapping paper set the scene for your reunion.

"It feels surreal to see you again after all these years," you confessed as you retreated to a comfortable couch.

Bucky nodded in agreement. "Time has changed so much, but at this moment it feels like we were never apart."

"It's like time has stopped," Bucky said as they both looked at the festively decorated room.

You smiled. "Sometimes it feels like we've never been apart."

Bucky nodded in agreement. "Time has changed a lot, but some things never do."

You both began to reminisce. Your words are like brush strokes painting the picture of your past years. You talk about the ups and downs, the milestones and the lessons life has taught you. Between sentences, you both felt the familiarity of your stories and the invisible thread that connected your hearts.

"It wasn't easy to forget you," Bucky said with a smile that reflected years of longing. "I kept looking for you, even though I knew you had expanded the city."

"You were always a part of me," you replied quietly. "There wasn't a day when I didn't think of our time together.”

The conversation deepened, and with each passing moment the room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of their emotions. As they walked out into the garden, a thin layer of snow covered the ground and the clear night was streaked with a sea of twinkling stars.

"Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we hadn't parted ways," you said, your eyes fixed on the snowy landscape.

Bucky put his hand gently on your shoulder. "Maybe we're exactly where we're supposed to be, here and now."

The silence of the garden was broken by a soft snowfall that fell from the sky like tiny crystals. Under the mystical light of the moon, they realised that the magic of Christmas lay not only in the festive decorations, but also in the rediscovery of love and connection.

"It's amazing how a night like this can bring back memories," you remark, your eyes fixed on the twinkling stars.

Bucky agrees. "Maybe it's the little miracles that remind us of what really matters."

The sparks between them turned into bright fireworks, and they knew that this Christmas night was not only a reunion, but also a new beginning.

Under a twinkling starry sky, they exchanged stories and glances. The warmth of their words pierced the cold night and they felt that this reunion was more than just a chance meeting. It was an opportunity to honour the past while forging a new path into the future.

Hand in hand, they walked the snowy path to the future, enriched by the knowledge that sometimes the greatest gift of love is the ability to rediscover it, even after a long journey of separation.

After all these years, you are finally reunited and you are glad that you accepted the unknown invitation too the Feast, because it was the only way to get back the love of your life.

[aeliesa]

IN THE MIDST OF TRAGEDY

Synopsis: Your existence has never been put to question; everyone knows you're a traveler. No one pays much attention to the answers you give on trivial and common queries. However, there are those who are skeptical of your presence. To the Conqueror of Demons, you are something to be wary of— a bringer of chaos? Calamity? Perhaps a miracle? He himself can’t figure out a thing or two about you. You may appear as a harmless traveler, but there is still something about you that keeps his senses on guard.

Through the illuminating moonlight across the seven countries of Teyvat, in the country that lies in the east, you step foot, and it causes an uproar to the calm and collected Adeptus who does everything to honor the contract he made with the Geo Archon. By means of protecting the nation, the Vigilant Yaksha will deduce the walking enigma, but how? If he himself cannot put an end to his suffering?

• Relationship: Xiao x female reader • Content: Angst • previous chapter

eight.

You can’t sleep. The events of the day replay in your mind, refusing to let you rest. No matter how hard you try to push him away, Xiao lingers in your thoughts. He was the reason you came down to Teyvat, and the idea of neglecting these thoughts feels impossible. Perhaps it’s guilt that makes you like this?

Your actions are inevitable for someone as reckless as you, but never in your wildest dreams did you expect the consequences to be this heavy, harsh, and painful. No one in Celestia had ever thought the way you do; your impulsiveness has saved thousands of mortals, yet it never brings you ease. Because of this, everyone remains vigilant around you.

“Tomorrow will be a long day. . .” You sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed, gazing out the window at the bright, visible moon. “How am I supposed to rest when it seems unfair for you to be restless while I sit comfortably in this room. . .” The silence engulfs you, and you bite your lower lip, heaving a deep breath. “Am I comfortable?”

Why do I always doubt myself when it comes to you?

Whatever this feeling is, you decide to go out. The room Childe prepared for you is spacious, but ironically, it feels suffocating, as though there is no air despite the large open windows. You need to leave—before you do something reckless that you’ll regret, something that could jeopardize your plans.

The air outside is the same as inside, yet it feels warmer against your skin. Though late, Liyue is still alive. People move about, enjoying the harmony of the night, treasuring the company of their loved ones. Some shops remain open, while others have closed, yet the city still feels as if it’s in the midst of a celebration.

If this is already so amiable, how much more during their festivals? I bet it feels even warmer and more joyful.

The thought of Liyue’s festivals makes you long to witness one yourself. “I want to see that. . .” you whisper, turning away as you start ascending the path leading to your usual retreat: Mt. Tianheng.

The path is dark—expected at this late hour. A myriad of fireflies emerges from the shadows, their gentle glow surrounding you as if they recognize you, drawn to the grace you hold. You smile, offering a warm thanks to the tiny creatures. They remind you of the ones you left behind in your realm.

How are they?

“You aren’t just a traveler.”

The voice stops you in your tracks. Of all the presences you expected at the summit of Tianheng, his is the least likely. It’s astounding—and frightening—how fate seems to weave your life like a puzzle, forcing the pieces into place without regard for the result.

“Xiao. . .” You whisper his name, slowly looking up to find him standing at the cliff’s edge, his back facing you. He watches over the nation below, yet you know that despite his gaze on Liyue, his attention is entirely on you.

Xiao makes it clear. He wants you to feel it—to be aware that you are not off the hook. To him, you are still a walking calamity. You are still under his watch, bound within his territory.

His presence is intimidating, but knowing who you are, it is nothing. “A fine greeting would have at least let me know I wasn’t alone. . .”

“And you expect me to greet you? In what? A livelier tone?” he scoffs in disbelief. “Traveler, with every conversation we’ve had, I find it astonishing that you would expect me to be convivial.”

Ignoring his harsh remark, you offer him a slight smile. “It’s not that I expect you to be warm, Xiao. That’s the last thing I’d expect. But is it not common courtesy among deities and adepti to express basic manners towards the human race? Am I mistaken?”

Xiao remains silent, caught off guard. No, it’s not just your words—it’s the fact that you possess such deep knowledge of his kind. After all, you are only human. At least, that’s what he believes.

“There is no ‘good’ in this evening. And your failure to grasp my full stance toward you is no longer my fault. . .” His voice remains cold as he glances over his shoulder. “Do not mistake me for someone who adapts to the ways of mortals. I have no interest in their mundane matters.”

You chuckle, your laughter as light as falling leaves, as pleasant as birdsong in the morning. “You’ve already made that quite clear. . .” You step closer, unfazed. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to try.”

Standing beside him now, you smile warmly. As expected, Xiao’s expression remains blank. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t push you back. Taking this as a sign, you decide to ask:

“Why did you come?”

Silence.

You know him well enough not to push for an answer. Instead, you simply enjoy the moment—the rare comfort of being beside him. The mountain air is cold, yet with him, everything feels warmer.

“Aren’t you supposed to stand far from me?”

You turn to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You already know. But you feign ignorance because you want this conversation to last. You know such moments are fleeting, like stars fading before dawn.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is still apathetic, but his emotions are almost too visible. If it weren’t you, no one would have noticed how close he is to making them readable.

“Are you concerned about my well-being?”

“Should I not?”

His reply takes you aback. It’s direct, confident. You scramble for a response, but before you can form one, he glances at you and says, “As much as I wish to end you, I will not let you suffer from my presence, Traveler. I’d rather do it with my own blade.”

Little does he know, his presence does affect you. But not in the way he assumes. You refuse to reveal your true strength—it would only complicate things. You feel the same sensation you did back at Wangshu Inn when you watched him fight, though this time, it’s less severe.

Discreetly, you cast a faint light over yourself, suppressing the effect of his karmic energy on your human form. For years, you have longed for this moment—to be by his side. Even if it means enduring pain, you are eager to prolong it.

“You really can’t wait to do that?” you tease.

He remains silent.

“Don’t worry,” you say, and when he glances at you, your eyes meet. “I’m not affected by your karmic presence.”

You both remain like that—locked in a gaze that seems to stretch beyond time. It’s warm. Serene. A fleeting illusion that, for a moment, makes you believe in a world without suffering.

Xiao’s eyes tell a story—a long, arduous journey of agony and solitude. They are deep, like the sea, endless and consuming. And for a second, you nearly surrender to them. Nearly tell him everything.

But you stop yourself.

Just hold on a little longer, Xiao. Your suffering won’t last forever. . .

For a split second, you glimpse something in his gaze. Light. Hope.

And for the first time, you believe in a future where Xiao no longer stands alone in his darkness.

Yet, when the moment becomes too much, you sever the connection. Xiao blinks, briefly taken aback, but his composure quickly returns. He, too, had let his guard down.

“What are you?” His voice is filled with uncertainty.

You summon every ounce of courage. “I told you—I’m only a traveler.”

His golden eyes narrow. “And you are lying.”

Before you can respond, he vanishes.

Alone once more, you sigh, gazing over the city. “I just wish it hadn’t ended. . .”

But little do you know, Xiao wishes the same.

For deep inside, something about you feels achingly familiar.

“Warm,” he murmurs, troubled by the memory of a presence that once saved him from despair.

.prev .next

[justshapesandaus]

Ren walked them all the way to the edge of the village to a bigger bungalow then the rest. Talking all the way on how excited it was to finally meet Cyan and ask him questions that Cyan tried to answer.

Once there Ren opened up the flap, letting the trio inside, sitting on a pillow reading over some papers were the chief. He looked up the moment he saw the light coming in, sitting the papers down and sitting up he greeted the trio happily.

"You see our harvest festival is coming up. and our son was suppose to be back home. Though we had received a letter that he would be arriving home the night of ceremony."

"Is there a reason why your son not being back could ruin the festival?"Cube asked.

"Not ruin, just hinder it." Ren stated. "You see we do a dance under the blue moon for the harvest goddess to bless our land with food. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, but me and my husband are getting too old for this. And the goddess is very picky on who dances in the center."

"We were hoping our son with be back with his wife to dance. But it takes time to learn the way to dance, and he won't be able to do it. We were hoping for a miracle to come and save the night. And then you all showed up." Mael continued. " What makes us so special?" Blixer couldn't help but ask. "You see the Harvest goddess, either wants a member of our family dancing with their significant other or a protector of the tree with their companion. Of course since there is three of you, one of you will have to stay on the sidelines, or dance with another." All three thought about this, thinking this over until Cube asked. "When is the harvest festival?" "It is in 4 days, the dance will happen during dusk. We will be able to teach you all the steps in that time. and provide logging and food."

The trio looked back at one another before they all came to a conclusion.

"We'll do it."