#moss willow breeze

[nikatyler]

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou

[vampsywrites]

a protector

synopsis: after your acceptance into the omaticaya clan, neteyam takes you to utraya mokri (the tree of voices)

tags: fluffyy, aged up! neteyam (18-19), neteyam pining hard, reader being a tease, neteyam playing hard to get only to end up jealous someone help him

a/n: neteyam is just his mother cloned fight me/j also, in this au the tree of voices was not destroyed

w.c: 0.7k

The luminescent flora seemed to come alive, painting the surroundings in a mystical hue. Intrigued, your fingers extend towards the nearest tree, cautiously exploring its glistening trunk. Neteyam observes your genuine curiosity with a warm smile, appreciating the reverence you show for this sacred place.

Underfoot, a bed of moss glows faintly. Peals of laughter slips from your lips as you see it react to your footsteps with expanding rings of light.

"This is a place for prayers to be heard," Neteyam's voice barely rose above a hushed murmur as he gently led you towards the center of mesmerizing bioluminescent willow trees. "And sometimes, Eywa answers."

"It's beautiful," you gasp out breathlessly, delving deeper into the heart of this sacred wilderness. Neteyam faithfully follows like a lost puppy, his gaze fixed intently upon your back. After taking a moment to immerse yourself in the enchanting surroundings, you finally turn your attention back to him.

"Is there a specific reason you brought me here?" you inquire, although a part of you already senses the significance behind this meet-up.

As your gaze lands on Neteyam, you take note of his refined attire, a welcome change from his usual rugged warrior-like style.

Tonight, he stands tall and proud, his frame accentuated by the elaborate ceremonial garb he wears. Woven green bands, expertly crafted, encircle his firm biceps as its vibrant hues shimmer in the dappled light filtering through the canopy. Further down, your gaze is drawn to the beaded garment gracing his waist, adorned by carved wooden beads and shining gems.

The warrior fakes a coughs, turning around to brush his fingers through one of the draping tendrils." You are Omaticaya now. You are one of the people. Which means you may make your own bow from the wood of Hometree."

Neteyam pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering briefly towards you before retreating back to the ground. "And… you may choose a mate."

Amusement dances in your eyes as you watch him struggle to maintain a casual façade, trying hard not to glance back at you.

"Is that so?" you playfully respond, pretending not to understand the implications. Neteyam nods with his back still turned from you.

"Ao'sun is a skilled weaver," Neteyam murmurs softly, his voice scarcely above a whisper, "He is one of our best."

The willow trees sway gently as a cool breeze sweeps through the forest. You step closer to him until you are flush against his side, feeling the warmth of his body against your own. "I don't want Ao'sun," you say, your tone teasing yet sincere.

Neteyam swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips as he tries to process your words. "Natiro is a very skilled crafter," he stammers, attempting to divert the conversation.

"Indeed," you agree, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of your lips, "He is."

A flicker of jealousy sparks in Neteyam's eyes, momentarily betraying his composure. He tries to conceal his inner turmoil, but his clenched jaw and the sudden tension in his posture give him away. The admission of other potential suitors stirs an unexpected wave of possessiveness within him.

You sense the shift in his demeanor, your cheeky smile widening ever so slightly. Chuckling, you lean in closer, your voice a soft whisper against his ear.

"But, I don't want him. There is someone else who has captivated me," you confess, your voice filled with affection. "A certain protector of mine. And he is not just anyone; he is a mighty warrior. One who has become incredibly dear to me."

Neteyam's lips part, but no words escape. Instead, he shakily reaches out, his large hand tenderly cupping your cheek, his touch gentle yet dominating. In that moment, the jungle around you seems to hold its breath. The willow trees swaying in anticipation, their whispered rustle echoing the tender exchange.

With a knowing smile, you gently place your hand atop Neteyam's, intertwining your fingers with his. "Ma'teyam, it has always been you," you affirm, your voice filled with assurance. "Your strength, your loyalty, your, at times, overbearing protectiveness and the way you make me feel…"

Neteyam's eyes shimmer with a depth of emotion. Wasting no time, he sweeps you into his strong arms, pressing his lips against yours, igniting a flame of desire that courses through your entire being. Once your lips separate, a comfortable silence fills the air, interrupted only by the sound of your pants.

taglist: @avatarmasterlistblog

"Ma'teyam," you smile up at him, "I choose you."

[serene-sun]

𝔐𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔶 𝔇𝔞𝔶 24: “𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭”

Pairing: Aether/mountain

Sum: earth ghouls are very emotional after being summoned

MUSHY MAY BY @forlorn-crows !!!

“He’s crying again,” ifrit says

“Yeah,” Aether sighs as he moves the curtain out of his view of the window again, “He wont come inside either, even when it’s raining.”

“Well, he must come in at some point to eat, just have to wait him out.” Dewdrop says as he also looks out the window.

The newly summoned earth ghoul had been crying under the weeping willow tree for more than two days now. Earth ghouls were known to be extremely personal and protective over friends and family. Just like quintessence ghouls, they held deep bonds with things they loved. So it was a point to time they called “the weeping willow phase” of when the earth ghoul mourned the loss of both their habitat and their people.

It could be hard for them to find a new beloved, so this period would last until they bonded with their new pack mates.

“He doesn’t have to eat, remember?” Ifrit nods as he unfolds his arms, “Earth ghouls are so stubborn, they always find a way to outgrow their issues but still get so emotional.” He says as he puts a hand on aethers back, motioning that he was leaving.

After Ifrit left, Dewdrop looked up to Aether, “What are we going to do? It was easy to bond with Ivy because he didn’t like all of the ants getting on him so he stayed inside. But I’m afraid our new friend will run off.”

“I know…” Aether sighed again as his vision relaxed into the golden red sky that caressed the ministry as the sun started to fall into the mountains.

“I’m not the best at….talking….but you-“ Dewdrop thought, “I mean you were kind of made for talking to others.” The water ghoul smiled awkwardly, they weren’t the best at talking one on one as most of them were either shy or anxious if not both.

“I’ll talk to him, just tell Papa that we’re still trying before he gives up on us.” Aether chuckled at the end, he rubbed the base of his horn in frustration on the situation.

Terzo was a great leader, but he was known to grow impatient rather quickly.

“It’s getting a little chilly out here, why don’t you come inside?” Aether said softly as he walked up to the earth ghoul.

With a flinch, the whimpering ghoul peaked a teary eye out of his tucked arms from his knees. He looked at aether, not with fear, with sadness as another cry strung out of his sore throat.

A gently breeze hushed the sounds of the ministry as the long strand of vine and leaf from the willow tree blew like hair in the gentle summer breeze, Aether kneeled down beside him.

“I know it’s difficult, but you must continue.” Aether said with a frown as he placed a hand on the ghouls shoulder.

The earth ghoul was large, tall as a matter of fact and long eyelashes that collected his tears of his puffy eyes. The ghouls hair was dark, a sort of brown that shifted green highlight in the flittering light of the setting sun. Skin, a neutral green with darker pigmented spots as his veins showed through his pale skin like small vines that blended in with the moss that spread across his finger tips and around his joints. His ears pointed, many chips and cuts that covered him like a story book. His eyes were a piercingly soft purple like a cluster of amethyst. The earth ghoul curled up into a ball more as he rubbed his nose, a tear falling down the apple of his cheek.

Aether sat beside him against the hunk of the tree, “if you come inside, I will get you better clothes and you wont have to get all wet from the rain like you did last night.”

The ghoul couldn’t deny that sounded wonderful, but he couldn’t get the images of his life in the pit out of his memory. But something urged him to let a hand slowly fall from his own embrace and trail down into the dirt to pick one of the flower bulbs. He held it in his hand gently, brining it up beside Aethers face as it suddenly bloomed a white blossom that swirled with life as it paralleled the quintessential ghouls white iris.

Aether was amazed a little, his heart fluttered and ached for the sadness dripping from the ghouls aura, soiling the soil and atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful, we have plenty of plants in the greenhouse.” Aether strikes a conversation, “But tell me, why must you stay attached to this fair tree?”

He lays the flower back on the ground, the bloom quickly fading as his touch leaves the plant.

“Salix Babylonica,” the ghoul finally speaks a soft but deep whisper as he rubs a tear from his porcelain face, “Mountain is covered with them this time of year.”

“Your right, they are,” Aether smiles as he looks up the tree and it’s branches draped with green, “Mountains, like you, are very strong and steady.”

The earth ghoul shakes his head, “I was I was like a mountain, sturdy and responsibility, beautiful and peaceful.” He traces a root in the ground with his finger, “But im not, im emotional and unwise.”

“I simply doubt that, if anything i think you are more a mountain than any other earth ghoul I’ve met.” Aether says, placing his hand on the ghouls

Earth looks up at Aether, “I’m not sad to loose my life in the pit, I never knew anyone there who was nice.” He admits solemnly.

The quintessence ghoul looks at him with pity, he knew the pit was rough even fore ghouls, “Then why must you weep?”

“I’m sad because I don’t have anything to loose, and now I must live in a world where there is more life to remind me of how lonely and out of place I am.” He says, letting down his guard now that aether was that close to him.

Earth ghouls were usually very short and small, smaller than water ghouls. He was abandoned from his pack due to them thinking he was a water ghoul for his height and quick growing hair.

“That doesn’t matter now, if I had room to say amongst all of the people here than id say you fit perfectly among these misfits we call ourselves.” Aether laughed softly as he stood up, “Come, I think you would enjoy some fresher clothes.”

Earth stood up with a soft smile, “If you say so, but…I don’t even have a name..how will i belong?”

“I think I found one,” Aether says as he takes his hand and walks with him on the brick path to the ghoul quarters.

“I think Mountain is a great name,”

[marlynnofmany]

The Ability to Smell Beauty

“Do you smell that?” Paint asked, flicking her tongue out to taste the air, just like the orange-scaled lizard she resembled. “That is LOVELY. Where is it?”

I looked around the forest-lined landing pad. All sorts of plants that I’d never seen before waved on the breeze: tree-things shaped like willows that someone had coated in enough hairspray to make them stand on end, bush-things with leaves that snapped at flies, moss and mushrooms and lumps that could have been frogs or seedpods, or maybe oddly-shaped rocks.

“I have no idea,” I told Paint honestly.

“Help me find it,” she said, striding away from the ship with her shoulder bag held tight and determination on her scaly face.

I glanced back at the captain and several others, who were passing time with an alien card game. The person who was supposed to have delivered our next shipment was late. Nothing else to do but hang around and try not to be bored.

“We’re going to look around a little,” I called, walking after Paint. “We won’t go far.”

Captain Sunlight nodded, her own scaly yellow face focused on the cards. “Scream if you need anything.” Then she triumphantly played a card that made Mur flail his tentacles in aggravation.

I said that I would, and followed my shorter crewmate as she waded into the undergrowth with her tongue flicking madly.

“So what exact smell are we looking for?” I asked, wondering if that was the right word. “Smelling for?”

“It’s kind of sharp, but in a good way,” Paint told me distractedly. “Sharp like a good kitchen knife, like string music, like a poignant memory.”

“Right,” I said, taking an experimental sniff. Everything smelled like alien plants, and not like violins or whatever. “Hm.”

“I think it’s this way. Low to the ground.” Paint scrambled under bushes, getting her bag caught on one of the flytrap mouths.

“Do you want me to carry that?” I asked.

“Yes please.” She held it up, still under the bush. Flytraps slapped at both of us, but weren’t strong enough to do any damage, even to my soft human skin. Paint probably didn’t even notice through her scales.

I shouldered the bag that held Paint’s sketchbook or novel or entertainment screen; whatever she’d brought out for waiting in the sun. I’d been about to go back in for something similar when she’d hared off on this quest.

“Over here!” Paint said, sounding more sure. She rustled out the other side of the bush and made delighted noises. When I made my way around the shrubbery, I found her at the base of a large boulder, gathering walnut-looking things into a greedy pile.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Yes! Smell one!” Paint thrust one toward me.

I took it and sniffed. Not bad. Kind of like cloves, that sort of spicy sharpness that just felt festive. “Huh. Pretty good.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” Paint asked, holding up a double handful and taking an open-mouthed whiff. “Gimme the bag back; I’m taking these with me.”

“Are you sure they’re safe?” I asked as I handed it over. “Do you know what kind of plant they are?”

“Yeah, it’s that one from the store on the beach back home,” Paint said, shoveling eagerly. “The good one I could never find again. I forget the name. Sunlight will know.”

“All right,” I agreed. They really didn’t smell that special to me. It would be interesting to see if Captain Sunlight also treated the things like lizard-alien catnip, or if this was just something that Paint liked. A lot.

When she’d gathered everything on the ground — a few good handfuls — she looked around for more. I spotted one growing from the spindly sapling that poked out of a crack in the boulder, and Paint happily added it to the rest.

“I wonder if there are any other bushes like that,” she said, standing with the bag and studying the trees.

“We shouldn’t go far,” I reminded her. “Gotta stay in screaming range.”

“Sure, sure,” Paint said. “Just a quick look over this way. I think those plants grow near the beach, and I hear waves.”

Remembering Kavlae’s description of the landing pad as being “within dancing distance of the sea,” I put more attention toward the ambient sounds. That wasn’t all windblown foliage after all.

Paint was already disappearing into more bushes, so I hurried after, not wanting to lose track of her. “Slow down! I’m sure they’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes, but they’re so beautiful!” she said from somewhere ahead. “There are whole worlds in that smell. Don’t you think so?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay?? It’s gorgeous! I want to decorate my room with them, and smell these every day! You really don’t think it’s that big a deal?” Paint sounded insulted.

“I think my nose just works a little differently from yours,” I said gently. “I’m sure they’re very nice.”

Paint huffed, pushing through the leaves harder and muttering something uncomplimentary about a nose that couldn’t smell beauty.

I had to laugh. “There are plenty of good smells out there,” I said. “And I don’t need my nose for beauty; I have my eyes for that.”

“Really,” Paint grumbled. “If you can’t appreciate this, then forgive my doubts.” She was still grumping about loveliness and the ability to sense it when she shoved through the last of the bushes. “Well, there’s the beach,” she said. “No trees, crackle it. Let’s go back.”

I ducked under a leafy branch to join her just as she turned to go. The view stopped me in my tracks.

Blue waves crashed against a beach made of glittering gemstones, sprawling as far as the eye could see in either direction. Every color under the sun, fist-sized and head-sized and a fine shimmering sand, washed bright by the waves. I could swear that native birds somewhere were singing a dramatic crescendo of a symphony, though maybe that was just in my head.

“Paint,” I said, not moving. “Can I borrow your bag? I’ll carry it back for you.”

~~~

Further adventures in backstory for this book. More to come!

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

[pupsmailbox]

MARINE ID PACK

NAMES︰aalto. adrian. adriana. adrina. aegir. aerwyna. akua. alda. aleksy. alon. amphitrite. andrienne. anemone. anenome. angler. aqua. aquaette. aquata. aquatique. ariel. arielle. ashera. aurelia. azolla. banks. barbeau. bay. beachette. beachie. beachy. beryl. blu. blue. bluette. bonnie. brooke. bubble. bubbles. calamari. calder. calypso. calyspo. captain. cari. caspian. cassius. cattail. cean. cecelia. celesea. cerulean. cerumae. ceto. clover. coastalle. coastelle. coral. coralette. coralie. coraline. cordelia. corel. corelle. coron. coronis. cove. cubit. current. cyx. dari. daria. darya. davy. delja. delmar. delphin. delphine. derya. destiny. doria. dorian. doris. dory. dylan. echo. elles. eyre. fern. fin. finley. finn. fish. fishe. fisher. fishette. fishy. flipper. float. foam. fwish. goldie. guinevere. guppy. hudson. hurley. hyacinth. hydropha. ink. inky. isla. jack. jelli. jelly. jewel. jordan. jordyn. kai. kaia. kairy. kelpie. kelsey. lagoona. lagoonette. lagoonne. lake. lana. levi. leviathan. lorelei. lotus. maelyn. malik. maren. marie. marin. marina. marine. marinette. marion. marissa. maritren. marlin. marne. marnie. marvin. mary. maxwell. meena. mer. merissa. merlin. meryl. mira. mirabel. miranda. miriam. moby. molly. moray. morgan. moss. naiad. nancy. nauticalette. nauticalle. nelum. nemo. neptune. nessie. nina. nixie. nori. nova. nymph. nymphaea. ocean. oceanette. oceania. oceanne. oceanus. octo. oscar. oss. osseo. pacifica. patience. pearl. pearline. percy. pike. pine. pippy. pond. poseidon. puff. rain. raine. ray. reef. reefette. river. ronan. rosemary. sachiel. sailor. sandy. scylla. seaette. seamus. searya. seaseaette. seashelle. seaton. sebastian. selkie. serena. shark. sharky. shell. shelle. shelley. shelly. shorette. siren. sirena. sirenette. sirenne. skip. skipper. snapper. sporty. squid. star. summer. sushi. tail. tallulah. teal. tide. tidette. timin. titus. treasure. trout. twilight. undine. valdrian. vert. verulean. waterette. wave. wavette. wavy. willow. windsor. wisteria. world. wyvern.

PRONOUNS︰ab/abyssal. algae/algae. an/anemone. ang/angelfish. aq/aqua. aqu/aqua. aqua/aqua. aqua/aquatic. aquatic/aquatic. bay/bay. be/beach. bea/beach. beach/beach. bite/bite. bleu/bleu. bloop/bloop. blu/blue. blub/blub. blue/blue. bo/boat. brea/breathe. breeze/breeze. brine/brine. bubble/bubble. ca/catch. cae/caer. carp/carpal. cat/cattail. cattail/cattail. chomp/chomp. clam/clam. claw/claw. cliff/cliff. coast/coast. cor/coral. coral/coral. cra/crab. crab/crab. cur/rent. dae/daem. de/deep. dee/deep. deep/deep. di/dive. dive/dive. dol/dolphine. drift/drift. drip/drop. drop/droplet. drow/drown. eel/eel. enj/emjoy. exci/excite. fi/fish. fin/fin. fish/fish. fish/fishe. fish/fishie. fish/fishy. flo/float. flo/flood. float/float. flow/flow. foam/foam. fwi/fwish. fy/fish. gill/gill. glass/glass. glub/glup. gre/green. gull/gull. hi/hide. hunt/hunt. hy/hydro. ink/ink. jaw/jaw. jel/jelly. jell/jellyfish. jelly/jelly. jelly/jellyfish. kelp/kelp. krill/krill. lagoon/lagoon. lake/lake. li/light. lob/lob. lost/lost. lu/lung. luu/luu. ma/marine. mako/mako. mar/marine. marine/marine. mer/maid. mer/mer. mer/mermaid. natu/nature. nautical/nautical. nep/neptune. oce/ocean. ocea/ocean. ocean/ocean. octo/octopu. oyster/oyster. peace/peaceful. pearl/pearl. pinch/pinch. puddle/puddle. ray/ray. re/reef. reef/reef. riv/river. river/river. sa/sand. sail/sail. salt/salt. sand/sand. scale/scale. scuttle/scuttle. se/sea. sea/sea. sea/seaweed. sea/shell. seal/seal. search/search. sh/ship. sha/shark. shark/shark. she/shell. shell/shell. shimmer/shimmer. shine/shine. shiney/shiney. shoal/shoal. shore/shore. shri/shrimp. sink/sink. skul/skel. soul/soul. splash/splash. spon/sponge. squ/squid. squid/squid. star/fish. star/star. stare/stare. sting/sting. su/sun. sun/sun. sun/sunbathe. swi/swim. swim/swim. swish/swish. tail/tail. tear/tearself. ten/tentacle. ti/tide. tide/tide. tooth/tooth. tre/trench. treasure/treasure. tro/tropical. tropi/tropical. tuna/tuna. um/umbrella. urchin/urchin. void/void. wa/water. wa/wave. wash/wash. wat/water. water/water. water/wave. wave/wave. wet/wet. wha/whale. whale/whale. wy/wave. ☀. ⛱. 🌅. 🌊. 🌞. 🌴. 🍥. 🎣. 🏖. 🐋. 🐙. 🐚. 🐚.🦐. 🐟. 🐠. 🐡. 🐬. 🐳. 👙. 💧. 🚢. 🛥. 🦀. 🦈. 🦐. 🦑. 🦞. 🧽. 🧿. 🩱.

[brightlotusmoon]

From Doxie Simone on Facebook:

"You make fun of ONE non-binary person, and here come Basil, Moonshadow, Sock, Plum, Fang, Tofu, Crow, Patchouli, Cupid, Shade, Snow, Flannel, Brick, Daffodil, Quinn, Wildflower, Leaf, Lichen, October, Ink, September, Clover, August, Bone, Driftwood, Bread, Aspen, Spirit, Jasper, Lightbulb, Glitter, Tuna, Nebula, Zamboni, Cloud, Pickle, Starlight, Pancake, Jellybean, Twister, Toothbrush, Denim, Lava Lamp, Moonbeam, Disco, Apricot, Banjo, Fork, Sock Puppet, Fern, Ghost, Dune, River, Galaxy, Fig, Echo, Storm, Velvet, Rain, Phoenix, Stone, Feather, Indigo, Moss, Bunni, Ember, Ocean, Paperclip, Lotus, Birch, Compass, Button, Marshmallow, Cactus, Comet, Skye, Lavender, Cedar, Thorn, Breeze, Astral, Beer, Cricket, Horizon, Marble, Canyon, Timber, Shadow, Prism, Link, Willow, Fable, Solstice, Haze, Orbit, Bubbles, Trinket, Sapphire, Jayson, River, Skyler, Rowan, Taylor, Finley, Casey, Morgan, Avery, Reese, Harper, Charlie, Sage, Quinn, Alex, Riley, Jordan, Cameron, Dakota, Ellis, Bailey, Parker, Emery, Peyton, Blake, Drew, Avery, Logan, Devon, Jamie, Ashton, Kendall, Hayden, Blake, Jules, Tegan, Cassidy, Marley, Blair, Micah, Sam, Kai, Sawyer, Lennon, Sky, Dakota, Elliot, Lane, Arden, Ezra, Spencer, Emerson, Jude, Kieran, Harper, Ryan, Bailey, Brooks, Sage, Riley, Avery, Jude, Taylor, Avery, Sam, Logan, Alex, Kai, Quinn, Rowan, Casey, Alex, Drew, Jordan, Charlie, Reese, Wren, Cameron, Blake, Bailey, River, Skyler, Ashton, Kai, Devon, Elliot, Spencer, Marley, Kendall, Quinn, Taylor, Jordan, Parker, Reese, Hayden, Sage, Sky, Sam, Cameron, Emerson, Logan, Drew, Nimbus, X, Acorn, Sparrow, Rohan, Drift, Tinsel, Frost, Bramble, Ajax, Worm, Kay, Strigoi, Helios, Phalanx, Lee, Leo (short for Leonidas), Drayden, Angel, Alexander, Salem, Athena, Ajax, and HildaOliver, Sunny, Sage, Quasar, Jade, Jude, Bug, Mouse, Toro, Spark, Rocks, Moth, Roan, Sage, Bear, Pill, Banshee, Tooth, Nail, Lumia, Mutt, Rue, Roo, Ru, Rù, Thunder, Pyrite, Petal, Aurora, Lagoon, Pixel, Raven, Zephyr, Moth, Lyric, Wish, Atlas, Charm, Pocket, Lilac, Rune, Vapor, Dusk, Opal, Dusk, Dawn, Autumn, Stream, Halo, Tempest, Mist, Poppy, Gem, Nova, Quest, Dusty, Osprey, Orchid, Jinx, Flare, and Candle to jump you in the Whole Foods alley!"

[mousetoe-wc]

I Got bored one time awhile ago and made a list of every prefix plus some into organised sections so I thought I might as well share.

All the ones that aren’t cannon to warriors, yet at lest are bold

Describing names

Colours: red, russet, copper, golden, amber, yellow, green, blue, violet, pink, white, gray, black, ebony, dark, pale, silver, brown, tawny, fallow

Pattern, Texture + Size: spot/ted, dapple, speckle, freckle, brindle, patch, mottle, ragged, tangle, kink, bristle, fuzzy, curl/y, wooly, soft, sleek, little, tiny, small, slight, short, tall, long, big, heavy, crooked, broken, half, stumpy, shred, torn, jagged

Actions + Character: flip, pounce, bounce, jump, hop, crouch, down, low, drift, flail, strike, running, fidget, mumble, whistle, snap, sneeze, shiver/ing, shining, flutter, fallen, lost, rush, fleet, quick, shy, sweet, brave, loud, quiet, wild, hope, wish,

Other: claw, whisker, dead, odd, one, spike, fringe, echo, song, hallow, haven

Elements

Time + Weather: day, night, dusk, dawn, morning, sky, sun/ny, moon, storm, lightning, thunder, cloud/y, mist/y, fog, snow, blizzard, ice, frost, dew, drizzle, rain, clear, wind, breeze, gale, shadow, shade, bright, light,

Earth/Water/Fire names: stone, rock, boulder, slate, flint, pebble, gravel, sand/y, dust, mud/dy, meadow, hill, rubble, river, ripple, whorl, float, rapid, shimmer, lake, swamp, marsh, wave, wet, bubbling, splash, puddle, pool, creek, fire, flame, flicker, flash, blaze, scorch, ember, spark, ash, soot, cinder, smoke

Plants

Trees: alder, aspen, birch, beech, cedar, cypress, pine, elm, willow, oak, larch, maple, bay, rowan, timber, bark, log, wood, twig, acorn, cone, seed, spire

Berry/Nut/Fruit/Herb: juniper, elder, sloe, holly, yew, mistle, bramble, hickory, hazel, chestnut, nut, apple, cherry, cranberry, olive, pear, plum, peach, chive, mint, fennel, sage, basil, mallow, parsley

Flowers: aster, poppy, primrose, rose, bluebell, marigold, tansy, pansy, briar, cherry, daisy, dandelion, daffodil, tulip, violet, lily, myrtle, thrift, yarrow, heather, lavender, blossom, bloom, flower, petal

Other: leaf, frond, fern, bracken, sorrel, hay, rye, oat, wheat, cotton, reed, pod, cinnamon, milkweed, grass, clover, weed, stem, sedge, gorse, furze, flax, nettle, thistle, ivy, moss, lichen, bush, vine, root, thorn, prickle, nectar

Animals

Mammals: mouse, rat, mole, vole, shrew, squirrel, hedgehog, bat, rabbit, hare, ferret, weasel, stoat, mink, marten, otter, hog, wolf, hound, fox, vixen, badger, deer, doe, stag, fawn, sheep, cow, pig, lion, tiger, leopard, lynx, milk

Birds: robin, jay, cardinal, thrush, sparrow, swallow, shrike, starling, rook, swift, dove, pigeon, crow, raven, duck, goose, heron, wren, finch, swan, stork, quail, gull, lark, owl, eagle, hawk, kestrel, buzzard, kite, hoot, feather, bird, egg, talon

Fish, Reptiles + Amphibians: pike, perch, pollack, trout, tench, cod, carp, bass, bream, eel, minnow, fin, snake, adder, lizard, turtle, frog, toad, newt

Bug type Names: bug, lady or ladybug, moth, spider, ant, snail, slug, beetle, bee, wasp, dragon or dragonfly, bumble, worm, maggot, cricket, fly, midge, web, honey

Skyclan + Warriorclan: Bella, Billy, Big, Harry, Harvey, Snook, Ebony, Monkey

[bloodcasket]

A BEGINNING, AND AN END

PAIRING: Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: Not proof-read, angst, mentions of readers death, depression, loss, loneliness, a relationship that is crumbling.

WC: 1,650

DESCRIPTION: Vergil wonders what exactly he did that made him lose you. He breaks as he realizes his mistakes, and that he will never be able to hold you again.

A/N: This work was rushed!!!!!!!!!! I literally just had a vomit post of all my sad little ideas. Currently hyper-fixated on Vergil! Probably will write more for him. I imagined this concept last night, and I kid you not, I cried.

Marriage was a concept created for foolish beings who wished to bind themselves to one another. When Vergil lived through his life, blinded by a pursuit of power, such things like marriage were nothing but a stupid scheme.

Why would he wish to be controlled by someone? Tied down to them? Love was nothing. Love was idiocy. That is what he thought, after all.

Then you came.

A human, young and kind. You placed your hand in his, pressed your silken lips along his bruised knuckles, and kissed his ruined skin. You promised him love. You showed him peace. You introduced him to light and laughter and mirth.

It was then, after the many days of holding you and growing to love you, that he realized why people did such “foolish” traditions. He grew weak with you. Became sensitive. Was not embarrassed to be genuine with you. He had finally decided.

He would propose.

You had tears swelling up along your waterline, slipping down your upturned cheeks as you smiled, you sobbed the words “Of course I will marry you”.

He married you.

The marriage was simple, no one but you two to promise yourselves to each other. He had found an old church to hold the ceremony, the ceilings tall and pointing to the sky. The tinted glass waned bright colors over your bashful face, your eyes glittering with devotion before you leaned in to kiss him. A kiss to ensure eternity.

Your fingers trembled against his as he slipped the wedding band on, he had not realized his cool façade has cracked along with yours. He was crying with you, so ecstatic to finally have someone who can understand him.

Someone who won’t judge him, someone who will tell him it will be okay. To hold him close in the night when he had nightmares. To lay their head in his lap as he read out his favorite poems.

“Vergil, stand over by the tree! I want to take a picture of you!” you giggled happily, face contorting into an expression that can only be described as glee. You held up your camera, adjusting the device to be suited for the brightened, summer day.

“And what for?” your husband seemed annoyed, looking at you with a nonchalant grimace. “Because I want to capture memories, now go, go!”. You shooed him away, begging him to find purchase near the weeping willow tree. It’s arms swaying in the gentle breeze, faded green leaves swooping overhead, tangled moss falling to the soil.

He obeys, acting as if this was something pointless, but internally, he was blissful, full of pride at the acknowledgement of your adoration. He stands, watching as you snap the picture, and then returns to your side gracefully.

“Well? Was that to your liking?” he asks, leaning down to see the picture, and you nod with a grin, telling him “thank you”.

This was something that became quite frequent. You had recently started to indulge in art, and had brought up to him that you would paint his portraits.

And paint you did.

Your works were wonderful. Your art room his secret sanctuary. A gallery of only him, painted with oils and acrylics, colors that portray him to be a god amongst this tiny Earth.

Inspired by a simple, small photo of him. A photo that is always captured by you.

You enjoyed comparing his white hair to the color of a rich magnolia. Consistently painting him alongside the elegant flowers. You had told him once that they reminded you of him. They were sensitive to the human touch, turning brown from the oils of a selfish finger caressing it. They were independent, and were beautiful while they kept to themselves.

Just like him.

Relationships are hard. He understands this. He knows that if he does not give enough, the ones he finds dear will crumble away. Loyalty, honesty, generosity, quality time, devotion….. so much he must do to keep you satisfied.

He tries, he’s a perfectionist, but when you two wander in public, see the other couples mold into one another, he feels ashamed. He does not like to hold your hand in public, and he feels tense when you initiate certain intimacy. You would get bored of him, wouldn’t you?

He admires how easy you make it look, how you strip him of his clothes, settle him in the tub, speak reassuring words of praise as you scrub the grime off his beaten skin. He relaxes under your touch, wonders why of all people, you chose to be with him. How you don’t hesitate to bend to his will, run miles to retrieve whatever he wants. Speak honeyed words, just enough to make him melt.

You’ve helped rid his nightmares, you’ve made him feel alive. He only dreams of bliss, of divine moments shared with you.

Moments like you and him, taking pictures under the willow tree.

But yet, he cannot even find the courage to move forward. To give you the smallest things you desire.

He grows sour. For once, he feels powerless. Inferior.

He can never give you what you want.

Recently he has grown colder to your touch. Shallow and incoherent with any simple notion.

You will try to reach for him, your pinkie grazing the side of his firm hand. He only tugs away, resisting your affection. You will plead to bathe him, massage the ache in his shoulder blades. He only denies your wishes to care for him.

Your paintings become more erratic than before, a sense of gloom in their glistening wake. A sheen of desolation hidden amongst the thick lines of paint. You have lost inspiration. His divinity and blue aura that was once captured by the bristles of your paintbrush are now fading into a melancholic art piece.

You are afraid you have lost him.

You two seem to get in an argument one night. It is after an awkward vent of your feelings to him in the library.

“I miss when you loved me”, is what you confess.

Vergil shouts selfish comments, says he prefers to be alone. Says you bother him too much. Says that maybe marriage was the wrong decision. He does not mean these things. But you have taken them to heart.

You start to cry, the whites of your eyes now bloodshot. Hiccups erupting from your lips. Sobs that beg him to take all his words back.

He doesn’t.

“Fine” you sniff, “I will let you be “.

A sickening feeling blooms in him when you leave, your bag tossed over your shoulder.

When you pass it is like no other.

He felt it burn through him. Regret. Guilt. Loneliness. He knew something had went wrong.

Your body had been found on the streets, bloodied, bones shattered, arms disfigured. You had tried to put up a fight, that was for sure. It made him sick. He felt numb. Practically in denial of your death. Of your murder.

He could have saved you…..he promised you. You have given him everything he wanted, and yet this…he couldn’t even prevent this from happening.

Your face, swollen and bruised. Eyes blackened and cheeks cut open. Your soft lips, never to kiss his again.

If only he hadn’t been selfish, you wouldn’t have went out that night. You could have been here, with him, embracing him. Telling him that you loved him for all eternity.

The wedding band was still firm on your finger, your blood thick over Vergil’s name engraved on the ring.

Vergil kisses you one last time before your body is sealed in it’s coffin, a wooden box that shall keep your remains concealed forever. Your lips are so cold now, lifeless and chapped. Lacking it’s warmth and tenderness that you usually carried.

A part of him regrets kissing you. Your frozen face and your icy touch will now haunt him for the rest of his life. Terrorize his dreams.

Just a couple of months ago you two had stood in the old Victorian chapel, the stained glass casting an array of colors over your gentle smile. The beginning.

The last image of you is an image of death. They are lowering you into the Earth, shovels tossing dirt over the wooden case. An end.

Dante has offered that Vergil should stay with him, get away from the home that he once shared with you. His brother figured it would be best, a solution to rid him of his sorrow. The elder refuses every time.

Your presence…your glow. It still is fresh, and alive in the walls of the home. He must stay. He must stay for you. Sometimes he swears he hears your voice in the halls, your sweet tone making him panic and get up, just to realize he is only imagining it. He is only imagining that you are not gone. That you are still here with him.

He still visits your grave, as often as he possibly can. In the meantime, he tends to the tree he has planted in your garden, a magnolia tree that is fresh and desperately trying to grow. He wished he could show you.

There had been one night where he had a nightmare, images of you screaming and crying his name, pleading for help as you died, crimson leaking from your lips as you sputter blood.

“Vergil! Help me!”.

He wakes in a cold sweat, so terrified that it genuinely shakes him. This vision had stayed clinging in his dreams ever since your death, never sparing him mercy.

On nights like this, he rushes to enter your art room, sitting amongst your wooden work chair, now too restless and shaken to attempt to sleep again. He knew if he tried, he would only be met with the image of your lifeless form again.

He sits there, your painting of him underneath the willow tree sitting proudly amongst your art desk. You had told him it was your most prized possession. Your best work. He thought so too.

He cries your name under the glum luminescence of the moon.

He decides this time, he will paint you. No matter how bad he does it, your beauty will always bleed through.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Swim

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader)

Tags/warnings: Yearning, Joel is bad at feelings and doesn't understand hints (or just chooses not to), female nudity, ogling.

Summary: You take a swim in a lake while Joel watches. That's it, that's the plot.

Words: 2,046

There's something about moving through the forest where nothing is heard except for the wind in the trees and the birds in the sky. The smell of moss and resin fills your nose, and the air is so clean it's almost making you high. The ground yields slightly under your boots, making it seem like you're floating forward. This is a far cry from the crowded quarantine zone with its downtrodden pavements and smell of dirty people. If you didn't have this, you would probably have put a gun to your own head a long time ago. But you do have this, and you greedily grab each and every opportunity to experience it.

Joel's breathing heavily behind you. The two of you have been walking for hours and even here, in the shade of the trees, it's a little too hot for comfort. Your hoodie is tied around your waist and you're in your t-shirt and jeans only. Joel's still soldiering on in his flannel. No wonder he's boiling.

Between the trees, you see something glimmer. Water? You stop and stare, Joel almost walking into you.

"Watch it," he grumbles, perhaps more to himself than to you. When he realizes that you're staring off into the distance, his hand goes to the gun at his side. You hold out your hand to let him know it's okay.

"Is that a lake?" you ask, pointing in the direction you're looking. With a deep exhale, Joel wipes the sweat from his brow before squinting.

"Looks like it."

"Let's go there."

"We're making good time," he objects, but you can see he wants a break.

"We're not expected back yet, and we need to rest," you point out. "I'm getting hungry."

"Alright," he agrees, and you lead the way, your feet even lighter now for knowing they're getting rest.

The lake is just as lovely as you hoped for: clear blue water, surrounded by forest and with cliffs on the opposite side, a family of swans swimming in the middle of it. You find a spot where willows grow right by the water, and their crowns serve as giant parasols as you go down to the water's edge. The water is refreshing but not too cold, and you exhale in a satisfied sigh as you splash some in your face. A light breeze comes in from the water, and you close your eyes against it, smiling as you forget the state of the world for just a moment.

Behind you, Joel groans quietly as he sits down on a small, flat rock and picks out rations from his pack. Biting into the tough jerky, he looks as morose as ever when you turn towards him.

"Lighten up, Miller," you can't help but tease him, "when was the last time you went on a picnic like this?"

"Who says I've ever been to one?" he glares. You shake your head and pick up a piece of dry meat from your backpack.

"That explains so much."

You turn your back against him and look over the waters. The swans, two parents and four gray babies.

"Swan babies are called cygnets, did you know that?" you ask, admiring the graceful birds.

"No."

"My mom taught me that. There was a park near where I grew up... there were swans there every summer..." Your voice trails off. You and Joel never talk about the past. And although it's been so long, you still miss your mother terribly. Thinking about what once was can be dangerous. It can make you long for something better, and there doesn't seem to be any light on the horizon.

"Swans mate for life, don't they?" Joel asks in a low voice that makes the hairs at the back of your neck rise. Nobody can drop down as many octaves as Joel when he speaks about things he really doesn't want to share - or when he's trembling with held back rage, fists tightly closed, ready to start swinging.

"Yeah," you confirm, your tongue suddenly a little thick in your mouth. "They mourn their dead partners, too."

He grunts something at that, and for a moment you are at a loss at to what to say or do. It has been clear to you for a long time that Joel cares about you, although it's easy to miss if you don't know him. But you do know him, or at least know something about him, and you know for sure that he wouldn't have been with you for such a long time unless he cared. The easy camaraderie you share may not be physical or affectionate, but it is one of the few good things you have in this world.

That, and the forest. And this beautiful lake with its clear, fresh water that glitters in the sunshine.

You become aware of how sweaty and dirty you are, and it's very easy to make up your mind.

"I'm going for a swim."

"What?" Joel raises a brow at you, and his chewing stops for a second.

"I'm going swimming," you articulate, bending down to untie your boots. Joel gets up, frowning in discontent at you kicking off your boots. You straighten your back and meet his gaze.

"It's not a good idea," he tells you.

"We're too far away for infected, and we haven't seen anyone here for days," you shrug. "It's just a quick swim. We're far more exposed when we sleep in the forest at night."

Joel can't argue with that, but he tries.

"There's other things out here to watch out for."

"What, Jaws?" you scoff as you untie the hoodie from around your waist, and throw it on the ground. Joel's grim face lets you know he's not amused, but it's too nice a day for you to get into a scowling match with his grumpy ass.

You pull down your jeans, and he averts his eyes.

"It's not safe," he insists.

"You're here, aren't you?" you point out, your voice a little more subdued now. He glances at you before looking to the side again.

"We should get going." His objections are getting thinner and thinner.

"You are more than welcome to walk on," you shrug before pulling your t-shirt over your head. "I can take care of myself. You dont have to wait for me."

"I know - " He turns back to you and notices that you are, in fact, quite naked. Your panties are in a heap at your feet, and you're stepping out of them. His gaze is burning on your bare skin and you bite into your lower lip as you raise your chin.

"You sure you don't want to come into the water?" you ask him quietly. Joel tears his eyes from your body, finding your gaze again. He swallows, and that tiny crack in his composure is all the encouragement you need.

"Or maybe you want to watch?" you add, a little leery, but a tremble runs through you body as you realize that you are flirting. And Joel is not scoffing, not looking at you with contempt, not running away. He kicks a little at the ground, almost looking at you sideways, but his eyes are glued to the ground.

"Go ahead, then. But make it quick."

The water is wonderfully cool and you wade out slowly, testing your footing for each step. The bottom is rocky, but most of the stones have been smoothed flat, and almost slippery with seaweed. When your thighs are steeped, you lean forward, push off with your feet, and glide through the water. You gasp at the initial coldness but your body quickly becomes used to the temperature. Your strokes are first slightly clumsy, unaccostumed to swimming as you are, but your muscles quickly remember how to do it.

"Don't go too far out," Joel calls from the shore. So he is watching. You glance back to catch his eye, but he's busy scanning the surroundings.

The joy of taking a nice swim on a hot summer's day is not diminished, so you turn around, treading water, and call back: "Come on, Miller, don't be a landlubber! You can swim, right?"

He looks at you then, face resting in the shade of the willow, eyes scrunched up against the glitter on the surface of the lake. You wish he could let the his face relax, just for a little while, just for a moment so that you could see what he looked like before the world as you knew it ended, on a sunny day by a forest lake, with friends and family, maybe lovers, or by himself, perhaps fishing, just enjoying life...

"I can swim, but I won't if you get yourself in a situation," he now warns you, and you sigh. Sourpuss.

"The water is really nice..." you tempt him, floating on your back and wiggling your toes at him. He crosses his arms over his chest, gesturing a finality that you just don't feel like arguing with. There's a part of you  that is angry with him for being so uncompromisable, but you can't blame him for being who he is. If he wasn't who he was, he might not be alive, he might not be the one who protects you, he might not even be here with you.

You dive, arms and legs carrying you back towards the shore, and resurface, drawing air into your lungs. Now Joel is staring at you, as if your disappearing underneath the surface wasn't of your own volition. His shoulders sink a little when he sees that you're okay. Your feet touch the rocky bottom and you stand up, the water reaching you to your chest. Slowly, you make your way to the shore, your eyes fixed on Joel's. Your nipples knot under his scrutiny, and when the water reaches halfway up your thighs, his gaze drops to the dark triangle fully visible above the water. Your skin has cooled off but heat begins to pool deep inside your belly, traveling up your spine before dripping down between your legs. You don't stop until you're standing right in front of him, blinking droplets from your lashes, lips parted to let your excited exhales escape.

Joel rakes his eyes over your wet body, takes it in like no one has in years, like you had never imagined him capable of, and you have often imagined him as a man of a significant amount of talents. You don't shrink under his scrutiny, quite the opposite: you relish it. You want him to worship you with his eyes, take his fill, feast on you until looking is no longer enough.

He raises his hand, that rough, large hand that has pulled countless triggers, hurt innumerable people. You're not afraid, you've never been afraid of him. Palm up and fingers slightly bent, his hand is moving almost in slow motion towards you, to touch your breast. You wait, heart skipping several beats, and you almost flinch when his calloused palm brushes against your soft flesh.

Something rustles in the shrubbery behind Joel, who reacts in a split second. With one smooth move, he has pulled his gun, spun around, and is pointing the gun at the edge of the forest. Your legs shake as you take a step back to get closer to your backpack, where your gun is. But before you get to take it out, the lower branches of a bush nod, and a rabbit hops forward.

You both stare at the damn critter like you've ever seen one before. Eventually, Joel lowers his gun.

"Fuck."

You exhale in a strained chuckle. "Shoot it, we'll have dinner."

The rabbit, however, has already fled at the sound of human voices, and Joel is clicking the safety back on his gun before he puts it away. Without turning around, he tells you in a tight voice to get dressed.

"I want to be back before nightfall."

Fighting to control your trembling hands, you slowly get dressed and grab your pack. Stomping past Joel, you swing the bag widely onto your back. It slams into his arm, but you don't apologize.

He never apologized for bruising your heart, so why should you apologize for trying to protect it?

[nikatyler]

She had one more gift for Nox…;)

[springbreezes-and-peonies]

Peony

Peony can’t recall her own birthday, as the concept of dates and years is difficult to grasp when every day you live in solitude. In perfect, peaceful, sunny bliss. Like the summers of a childhood long past, free, vivid, warm…Everyday a flowering spring morning after rain, quiet and happy and perfectly, perfectly safe. She cannot read, or write. And indeed she would fumble through any attempts to keep a schedule or track of time even if she were trying with all her willpower. But, she can garden. She has a natural tendency to plants, a bond with them as innate as breathing, as pumping blood to your heart, and it is a blessing for her too, because her plants love her, and she loves them. She can hear them, as if they have little voices of their own, speaking to her, in her mind and in her heart. Peony cannot read, but she can sense the struggles of a bed of mums from many yards away. She cannot write, but she can hear the rare and beautiful, (and maybe slightly discordant) songs of wildflowers and weeds. Dandelions, clover blossoms, and speedwell sing in a harmony, or perhaps disharmony, all their own and it is something most people will never hear. She does not know her birthday (though the plants tell her she is 26? 27? 30?) but she can heal a dying rose bush with her touch, her kiss could mend even a wilting belladonna, and she dances with all of the grace and abandon of petals caught by a gentle spring breeze, of a girl raised by flowers and ferns and trees, of a lady who knows not what shame or humiliation are, and who is perfectly, entirely: herself.

She lives a very warm and happy life, even in solitude as her plants love her and guide her. Indeed she was named by the flowers, for when she came drifting to the lonely sky island on the outskirts of the Floralian kingdom’s archipelago, dropped by the wind with care at the feet of weeping willows, atop soft moss, they thought she may have BEEN a Peony and not a darling little moth-caterpillar. She was so covered in flower petals gathered in the breeze, they could be forgiven for such a mistake. The plants could not have known how such a name would come to suit her as she grew and matured, once her metamorphosis passed, and she became a lovely, grown moth-kind, she certainly resembled a Peony more and more. Her skin petal-pink, a cotton-candy crown of her curls atop her pretty pink head, curling playfully around her fuzzy gold moth antennae. Her sunset eyes light up her face and up close (or when especially excited) they sparkle and gleam as if they’ve been splashed by morning dewdrops, and beneath them, glittering, gold freckles dot her soft cheeks. She is a woman in love with dresses, flowing, playful, petal-y dresses with tiers and layers and ribbons.

Yes, Peony is very happy, for this solitude does not feel quite like solitude when the shy violets tell you their secrets, or the playful daisies gossip to you of what they’ve heard on the breeze of life in the castle.

“Did you hear?? The beloved Queen has transformed her appearance so completely! Folks say she doesn’t go out as much anymore and spends time alone in her room, managing her appearance…”

“Oh???” Peony asks, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Well, that’s what the hollyhocks in the castle gardens say. They say they see Lord Taranza more and more each day too. Alone. She must be spending less time with him as well…They say he seems very sad.”

“How terrible…” She frowns, and truly does feel quite sorrowful. “From all accounts he loves her dearly…I cannot imagine how that must feel…”

And this is more than true. For this is the one sadness in Peony’s life of bliss and summery wonder: she cannot imagine how this heartache must feel, for she has never had any sort of bond with another. She has heard gossips of friendship and love from her plants. Acts of kindness and care, of platonic bonding, of romantic courtships…She has known little of either. The flowers and trees and ferns are all good and sweet and loving in their way, but as she grows and matures she begins to feel they are a poor substitute for interaction with one of her kind, another Floralian, someone like her. But no one ever visits her little sky island, and a life of solitude makes her wary of fluttering off with her wings and venturing out to the more populace sections of the kingdom. So, she stays. She gardens. She watches the sunsets and stargazes as the dandelions whisper and sing to her, she kisses their seedlings off into the sweet breeze, hoping that at least they may sprout their roots somewhere that will give them all they need, all they pine for, and she does her best to be content with this life she’s been given…

And, for the most part, Peony is content. But hopes, and day dreams, and desires have a way of persisting no matter the distractions, and this desire has been pressed to within the tender soils of her heart by her own gentle hands, and like the seed it is, it takes root, and grows until she can think of nothing else but knowing the love of another, to go without threatens to split her delicate heart in two.

“I want a friend…” She whispers sorrowfully.

“We’ll be your friends!” A chorus of sunny daffodils replies in cheerful affection.

“I know.” Peony responds, and smiles sadly to herself.

“I want a beloved…I want to feel loved.” She sighs, laying in the empty, colorful fields on a cloudy day.

“We’ll love you Peony! You care for us everyday! You tend to us so carefully, even when we prick you with our thorns, you sing to us and talk to us and help us grow! You are beautiful inside and out!” The roses exalt her passionately, and honestly. But Peony sighs in response and simply nods her head.

“I know…” She whispers again, that same sad smile set on her pretty pink lips, as if it’s been carved there, immutably.

Then one day, everything changes. It is bright, sunny morning like many on her cozy island, and Peony is in her yard, in her garden, tending to her plants. She hums softly to herself and whispers gentle affirmations to her little plants, tending them with love and care, her melancholy pushed to the back of her mind as she sets her mind and heart to her task.

“My, my…What’s a gorgeous little creature like yourself doing all alone on this island…?” A voice. A non-plant voice, warm and smooth like a summer evening drifts to her ears, her antennae twitch and tickle…as she hears it…She moves her eyes from her work and looks around, and at the gate of her garden she can see him standing there, leaning on the fence…A moth-kind like herself…His skin gold…hair long and dark like a starless sky, his eyes black shadows on his golden face that seem to bear into her heart…A span of gold and black wings at his back, six dark, gloved hands rest on her wooden fence as he watches her from outside her garden, as if he’s studying a work of art…His voice, his presence, his appearance are so strange and so regal to Peony. She takes a breath. She tries to speak but the words simply won’t come. She can’t find them. They’re lost to her under his gaze.

“I don’t mean to frighten you, precious girl. I was simply struck by your beauty as I was flying by…” He explains, his words sweet as honey, his tone soft but confident. He does not approach closer than the fence.

“O-oh…Golly…” Peony blushes deeply, her pink face growing ever pinker. She is struck by his words…Something strange, something new is blooming in her heart, making her chest feel tight and her breath fall short. She is nervous…anxious…a little fearful of this stranger, but oh so excited. This is so new. The mundane is shattered. This is something different in days and days that pass in a sunny, flowery blur, this is unique…

The stranger chuckles softly as Peony merely stares at him, in awe of him. He shakes his head playfully at her.

“Are you always this way when you meet a stranger my dear?” He asks, his voice a reverie ringing in her ears.

“I-I…I don’t meet people often sir…” Peony replies, raising two of her yellow-gloved hands to her burning cheeks. She continues, a little breathlessly. “I-in fact you’re the first other than my plants…”

“Really?” The stranger tilts his head curiously, his black, pin-like antennae curl inquisitively at this.

“Mhm.” Peony smiles, feeling a little more at ease as they converse. The stranger grins.

“Well then it is quite an honor and a delight to be the first visitor you have little flower.” He chuckles again, enthusing over her.

Peony feels herself become so flushed and so shy with every compliment he gives…his praise of her beauty is overwhelming for her, his very presence is such a shock to her system, but she dare not retreat. She feels innocently and quickly taken with him. And from this day on, her days of pure, childlike, mundanity were over.

The stranger begins to visit every day. He watches Peony garden from just outside her garden gate, leaning against the wooden posts, his dark eyes seemingly unblinking as her gentle hands tend to her flowers, her plants. His voice, his words are almost entrancing to her, as if his speech is a spell cast upon her heart and soul.

“The flowers tell me you are lonely.” He says, his tone sympathetic and kind.

“They do??? You can speak to them too???” She asks, so very stunned by this. They are alike. So alike. Finally, someone like her…

“I can. And they do. Is that true pretty girl?” He asks gently of her.

“It was…” She responds shyly, the blush returning to her face, causing her pink face to nearly glow with its rosy tinge.

“Oh? It was?” He smiles at this, gazing affectionately at her rosy cheeks.

“It was…”

Days begin to come and go quickly for Peony now. Every morning she rushes herself from bed, her pink and gold wings abuzz to get to her garden, to see this man…This man who has captured her heart. Every day they spend longer and longer together, the hours fly by so quickly, too quickly as the instant he is gone she is pining for his company again. He stays at the garden gate, never entering, always watching, listening to her talk about flowers and plants and her abilities with them, smiling to her, showering her with praise, and compliments and adoration.

One day, it is very late, and she is still in the garden, he is still nearby, listening to her sweet babble about her flowers and her gardening skills, and after a long moment he tenderly interrupts.

“Peony…Do you trust me?” He asks of her, as if she wouldn’t at this point, as if there is so much weight to this question.

“Do I trust you?? Of course I trust you!” She answers in kind, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “I trust you with my whole heart! With my soul!” She enthuses, a wide smile cross her face, her pink eyes sparkling with joy, with pure, true, honest love.

He smiles, his eyes like pools of the night sky surrounding them on his golden face.

“Then may I come in and sit beside you awhile?”

Peony blushes faintly at this, fiddling shyly with the pink bow tied round her neck, but after a moment she nods, realizing she’d want nothing more. She’d never wanted anything more.

At once, he opens the wooden gate, and moves smoothly, elegantly to her, as if the grass was made to bend to his graceful passage. He sits beside her, very close, facing her, his eyes gazing unblinking into hers. He is silent for a time, and all Peony can hear is her breath sharp in her throat, and her heart beating against her chest as though it would escape and offer itself to this man of its own volition if it could. She gulps.

“H-hi.” She simply says. She’s never been this close to him before…She’s never been this close to anyone before.

“Hello.” He responds, chuckling softly, and as Peony listens she is only now noticing, there is a faint, whispering echo to his silken voice when he speaks.

She tilts her head, moving her face close to his, her wings buzzing as she examines his face up close with great curiosity. She flutters all around him, looking him over close up as much as she can before landing and sitting across from him once more.

“Beautiful…” She murmurs sweetly, honestly…

He chuckles again, shaking his head gently. “My dear, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to give you a kiss…” He whispers to her, such tenderness to his voice. “Your very first…”

Peony gasps, and hesitates at this. She feels a little unsure, such a gesture is so grand, so new for her. She thinks hard for a moment. She remembers all her days of yearning for someone, a friend, a companion, a beloved. She remembers the strain on her heart, the melancholy and mundanity and how his simple presence shattered that, and she knows she wants to kiss him. She longs to with her entire heart. She nods.

“Oh I’m so delighted my flower. Would you close your eyes? Then I will give you your kiss…” He sighs softly, tilting her chin up delicately.

She gazes upon his beautiful, golden face…and she shuts her eyes…

And for a moment she feels nothing at all. She doesn’t even feel his presence before her. She doesn’t feel his hand tilting her chin. She doesn’t even feel the grass beneath her. She opens her eyes and sees nothing. Only darkness. Then, in an instant, a rush of unbearable, insurmountable feelings begin to course through her mind. Feelings of sorrow, of anger, of hatred, feelings so unfamiliar to the innocent moth. She feels intense pain and agony and as she opens her mouth to scream no sound comes out. He is gone. Everything is gone. Something is horribly, horribly wrong…She passes out with one final thought as consciousness drifts away…’I didn’t even get my kiss…’

After an unknowable amount of time, consciousness returns to her, and she can see again, but she still feels entirely numb. And as she focuses hard, she realizes in horror what her vision is seeing…Her own hands, her own self, destroying her plants, and not just her garden…not just her plants, but everything in sight. Her powers working in opposition to their natural state, everything she touches falling to decay…Even worse, she cannot stop, she is not in control…Some dark force has her possessed, something is piloting her body, destroying her home against her will. A deep sorrow fills her heart, making her sick to the pit of her stomach as the realization dawns on her…

“It’s him. He wasn’t even real. He…He was some darkness pretending in order to get ahold of me…To do this.” She cannot scream. She cannot cry. She can only look on in horror, trapped inside herself like a prisoner in her own mind, as she destroys everything she’s ever loved with her own hands. She hears ferns, flowers, even trees who have sheltered her for her entire life as she has sheltered them call out to her in pain, pleading for an end to this, but there is nothing she can do and no end in sight. There is no reprieve from this destruction, or the very new, very keen sadness it brings.

Time passes for awhile like this. Days. However long Peony cannot say, but the destruction does not end. She feels numb, lost, grey…She wants an end to it, anything for it to stop…Then one bright, cloudless day, she sees something as her face turns towards the sky…a ball of pink floating towards her against the blue…It gets closer…QUICKLY closer! It’s coming for her!

Peony is stunned, this small, pink, round creature is quickly upon her! Its eyes bright blue, within them the very images of the stars. It attacks with tenacity and speed she does not expect. She watches, helpless to stop herself as her possessed form begins to strike back against it, calling forth plants, vines, striking out with everything available to her.

“Oh no! No please don’t hurt the little thing!” She cries in her mind for it to stop, but she continues fighting back…and yet…so does the little pink ball…He bounces effortlessly back no matter how hard she hits him…He fights with such courage, such determination, she realizes he will not give up, and the darkness possessing her won’t allow her to either…At the end of this confrontation, one will be slain. She is filled with fear for the little pink creature, though he is strong, surely he cannot stop her slaughter…?

The battle wages on, no matter how many times the pink creature is hit, he refuses to give up, and after fighting him off for sometime, she can see her movements are becoming slow, sloppy, weak, and yet he is just the same as he was at the start…Finally, after sometime it’s over. Peony is defeated, and she feels her vision fading…as she is once again blacking out.

“It’s over…I’m through…If this is how I leave this life then……then…”

For a time she thinks no more……

And suddenly…her eyes are fluttering open…and she can move herself! She is in control again! And the first thing before her as her sparkling pink eyes open up, is that little pink ball! He has such a concerned look on his plush, pink face, his eyes nearly pressed to her own, swirling stars in their blue pools, gentle, childish sounds coming from him. He taps her head tenderly with one of his rounded arms, making a quizzical, concerned sound.

Peony feels a wave of relief washing over her. She’s alive, she’s okay…But something else washes over her as well, something doubtlessly caused by this creature’s presence, this pure, boundless happiness and warmth and…love. Real love. She can’t contain herself, laughter is bubbling up within her, desperate to escape, and she picks up the tiny pink ball with her six hands and spins around happily with him, laughing with such bliss, such warmth, and she can hear him laughing too. ‘Kirby’…The name passes through her mind as she affectionately bumps her forehead to his, and she blinks in understanding. She kisses his head lightly, hugging him tight, both of them laughing some more.

“Thank you Kirby…” She whispers to him, tears forming in her eyes, tears of freedom and peace…She feels Kirby squeeze her tighter in a hug, cooing affectionately, soothingly to her and something in her feels like everything is going to be alright…

After their embrace, Kirby takes off on his Warpstar, waving goodbye. Peony waves back, sighing heavily, a deep, regretful feeling slowly enveloping her as she looks at the destruction surrounding her. All her plants, her friends, and she can hear the sorrow they feel, the pain, the grief…She thinks hard for a moment, and takes a deep breath…There is one thing at least she can do.

Peony flutters up into the sky, high enough so she can see all of the surface of her island in view. She gathers her wits, and her strength. “I’m sorry. I will undo this pain my friends. I will never take you for granted again…”

She cries out hard, letting out an intense burst of energy that coats the dying grass and trees, glittering with life, with her love, coaxing things to be born anew…to heal…to live…And as her plants are healed by the forces deep within her very soul, she gently sinks against the grass to sleep…very much in need of rest…

Once Peony wakes, the flowers and plants are lively, they are coming back, all thanks to her…But Peony can no longer hear them, her touch no longer coaxes the dying petals of flowers back to their prime, and if they can understand her still she does not know. She sighs, smiling sadly, gazing out at the sky as the sun rises…”It will be okay…It’s just…a new start.” She looks up at the clouds, and blows a gentle kiss up to them, hoping it may reach Kirby, that little pink ball who saved her, who gave her a second chance…

[maryhale1]

The green witch ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

In a forest deep where shadows lie,

Beneath the emerald canopies high,

Lives a witch with eyes of jade,

In her glade, where sunlight fades.

Her gown is spun from leaves and moss,

A crown of thorns, no care for loss,

Her hair a river, wild and free,

Flowing like the ancient sea.

With whispered chants, she calls the breeze,

To dance among the willow trees,

Her laughter, soft as morning dew,

Weaves magic, pure and ever true.

Her potions, brewed with tender grace,

Hold secrets of the ancient race,

She speaks to roots, to blooms, to stones,

In her realm, the Earth’s own tones.

The moonlight bends to kiss her skin,

A glow that starts from deep within,

She tames the wild, she heals the weak,

With every spell, her soul does speak.

In her presence, time does slow,

The past and future, ebb and flow,

A green witch, radiant and wise,

A guardian beneath the skies.

So if you wander through her wood,

With heart that's pure and will that's good,

You may find her, or she finds you,

In her world of verdant hue.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

@mynaturalmagic ✨ thank you ✨

[midwest-spidey]

Childhood Springtime

Naked feet on moss covered floor,

Blossoms of new from old,

Sunsets and rises to adore,

The sky shining bright gold.

Dancing around in the cool breeze,

The creek lapping my skin,

The long green grass staining our knees,

A glimpse of what has been.

Sundresses, trousers, light and free,

Crowns of flowers on heads,

Climbing up the willow tree,

Pants stitched with colored thread.

We were so young, and we were bright,

Resting from our classes,

We spent hours in the sunlight,

Now it's all just flashes.

[inversionimpulse]

Ogerpon's role in the story is, of course, that of the oni from Momotarou. But I think that she herself has quite a lot of Ibaraki-Douji in her.

Her whole story rings true with Ibaraki's. The story goes that Ibaraki-Douji was the right-hand-man, or possibly woman, of a gang of marauding oni living on Mt. Ooe. Naturally, of course, a band of heroic samurai showed up and killed them all - as you do with monsters. Ibaraki-Douji, however, survived, although it lost its arm. It pursued the samurai who defeated it back to Heian-Kyou, where it attempted twice to kill him in revenge and steal back its arm by disguising itself as a harmless human woman. It got its arm back, but Watanabe no Tsuna survived.

Ogerpon, too, came down from her mountain seeking revenge for a stolen treasure and a dead friend. There are little differences, such as that she and her companion were not bandits and there were only two of them - there's another possible inspiration for her companion that I think fits better, which we'll go over later - but broadly it follows the same pattern, only where Ibaraki-Douji got back her treasure but didn't get revenge, Ogerpon got the reverse.

There's little details, too. While I hardly have a comprehensive survey on hand, I am told that some versions of the myth portray Ibaraki-Douji as a woman - Ogerpon, too, is specifically female in a way that is unusual for Legendary Pokemon (The Lousy Three being specifically male remains a mystery). The grass-type, too, connects to Ibaraki-Douji, whose name may mean Briar-Tree [Demon]Spawn. Even her height and the plot point of her being possible to mistake for a human child may connect here - the meaning indicated by "douji" on its own, rather than the monstrous connotations of being compounded into a name, is merely "child."

Now there's another mythical figure, the Oni of Rajoumon, who is frequently identified as Ibaraki-Douji itself.

And rather than Shuten-Douji and the other Mt. Ooe bandits, I think Ogerpon's companion resonates more with the Oni of Rajoumon, or rather, the Oni of Rajoumon's human friend(?). The story goes that the poet-scholar Miyako no Yoshika was traveling through Rajoumon (now more frequently called Rashoumon), the southern gate of Heian-Kyou, and was so struck by the scenery that he composed half of a poem, originally in Chinese, on the spot:

"The weather clears, breezes comb the hair of the young willows."

The oni who lived in Rajoumon heard this and replied:

"The ice is melting, wavelets wash the whiskers of the old bog moss."

Whether there was any further association between Yoshika and the oni, the story does not say. Yoshika would go on to be moderately successful, only for one of his pupils to be promoted above him. In response he left society behind to become a mountain hermit.

If we generously interpret this as Yoshika being rejected by society and fleeing to a hermetic life in the mountains (and not, as I tend to half-jokingly say, as ragequitting society entirely), we may see a bit of Ogerpon's companion here - not a boss and many underlings as with the oni of Ooe, but one relative equal.

Anyway. The point of this is as follows:

That you should all appreciate the self-restraint that it took to not name her Old Bog Moss.