#swamp witch writes

[emly-seppele]

Who lives in the little hut between the forest and the swamp? Playing with foxes and growing little plants

[cgaubrey]

It is a gorgeous sunny day full of wind (and pollen) and I just need the open road, one of the three CDs I've been listening to for twenty thirty years, a bag of (pretzel) combos, and a vaguely blasphemous fruity drink with mythologically inspired creatures on the label.

[bringmecoffeeandroses]

So, it's been forever since I picked up a pen to draw but I'm kind of proud of this? The first real fantasy race I've ever drawn, so be gentle.

I'm currently working on a Cottagecore Necromancer/Dark Academia Shadowsorceress project and this is my protagonist. Her name is Myadal and she's a happy-go-lucky necrobotanist.

[void-botanist]

Wrapped Scenelets No. 77: swampside

I'm writing scenelets for (most of) my Spotify Wrapped top 100 songs. Here's number 77, Avril 14 by Aphex Twin.

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The evening came late to the edge of the ship lot, but as the sun set behind the trees at 5am Salles time, Spinder came to join her in the airlock doorway of the Nicea. There was more than enough space to fit three people their size on the threshold, but he sat down right next to her, the fabric of his flight suit catching slightly against her jeans as he got comfortable.

“It’s pretty, I’ll give it that,” she said quietly, watching as some kind of ribboned alien fireflies started to flash in streaks around the darkening moorland.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little sleepy.

She looked over at him. He seemed a little sleepy too, blinking slowly while he looked into the middle distance. “You are, too.”

He snorted softly. “Is that also all you’re gonna give me?”

“For now,” she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders anyway. He set his hand on her thigh and leaned into her shoulder. She didn’t think he was going to fall asleep again, but his breathing felt measured and deep against her side.

“Is it you or Etwyva that smells like flowers?” he murmured.

“Definitely Etwyva.” She would be surprised if she smelled like anything other than sweat. “There’s some kind of bush blooming out here.”

“It’s nice,” he said, and nestled his face further into her chest.

She didn’t resist the impulse to kiss the top of his head. This wasn’t what she’d expected from their shitty detour down to the surface, but she hadn’t expected the detour either. When was the last time they’d just been like this? She tried not to hang around him too much on the ship, at least not privately. Maybe she wasn’t really the captain, but she should seem as responsible as one. And before this trip was the blur of preparing for this trip, and before that they’d also been in the void, on a shipping trip. Maybe they never just were, not like this.

She slid her hand down to a more comfortable spot on his waist. He moved his arm back so that his stump rested against her fingers. If they never were like this, she would just have to enjoy it while it lasted.

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Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @kk7-rbs @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

Scenelets wrapped taglist: @kk7-rbs

[poshcatstudio]

Newest episode of "Chel & Heron is now out! Continue reading at https://poshcatstudio.wixsite.com/home/chelandheron/chel-%26-heron%3A-chapter-1 or on wattpad

[amandaoftherosemire]

In the Rosemire

The Rosemire is a lovely place, most of the time. At least, it depends on your definition of lovely. But if you like moss and rain and shadows, there are worse places to discover at the end of a path you found while lost in the woods. There are almost always flowers, and even the worst days of winter are generally more dreary than dangerous. The inhabitants may be odd and shy of strangers, but once trust is given, welcome is understood. If you don't mind sitting on a stump and listening to the bog creature that resides in the swamp tell stories and sing the day away, you'll always have a stump of your own and an expansive and warm generosity at your disposal.

Except in late summer. August, traditionally, but climate change has disturbed this little patch of land, too. Earth is a closed system, as much as we'd like to ignore the truth of it, and a stone dropping into the ocean on one shore makes the ripple that becomes the wave that crashes against another. In recent years, August has reached out to bake July as well.

Unfortunately, once the local temperature climbs above 90° F (~32° C for those from metric countries, and me since I'm trying to be better than I was raised), most movement in the Rosemire ceases. The bog creature rarely leaves the swamp, and only when necessary. She only tells stories about how unhappy she is, how hot it is, how it should not be so hot, how it didn't used to be this hot and you get the point. In August, the Mire is dry and brown and ugly and the creature that lives there is a boring lump who deals with that by staying quiet until she is at least more enthusiastic if not any more interesting.

However, this year the clouds rolled in a little early, and someone who'd found the path before started calling, so the bog creature (me) poked her head up so that her eyes were above the water line and she could see the picture a friend had brought. Some folks that had wandered through had left messages checking in or saying kind things about the stories. The rain had started, and the cool gray light and soft drizzle falling from the sky made her feel like the words that had remained so elusive for so long might be willing to return.

The creature cannot refuse anyone who asks for a story. Especially when they only want her to finish one already started. The Rosemire has been dormant, but the creature is still here.

[evilminji]

Or steal his idea >.> maybe both. Yoda probably IS feeling his age after the war. Tired and sad n guilty. Lots of regrets. His Padawan became a Galactic THREAT. Kidnapped a youngling and tried to kill of the very Order, he, Yoda, has lead and loved his whole CENTURIES LONG LIFE.

Became A SITH.

A whole branch of his Lineage is RIDDLED with Falls and despair. He's OLD. Should be retired and mischievously offering younglings guidance, with cryptic nonsense that actually has real Jedi teachings in it. Should be having fun! But NO.

The senate, the galaxy, demands MORE. Solve this, yoda! Resolve THAT! Listen, we will not!

Yoda is tired.

He is OLD.

Wise? Perhaps. But no more or less then any OTHER old Jedi. He is not special. Not better, then the friends he misses much. He just lives a long, long time. Has many regrets and much to mourn. Much to think upon.

Dagobah is good. Remote. Let the Galaxy grow up, we must. Hold their hand, we can not. Choices, they must be allowed to make. To control? Is the way of the Sith. Change, we have in war. For better? For worse? I can not say. Heal we must. Grow again, like shoots from damaged trees..

But not with Yoda. He is tired. Meditate he must.

They probably peace out. With better supplies, since they're not being hunted. And Yoda doesn't end up quite so crazy. Still damn near impossible to bother them though. SI-OC Finally gets to finish her training. Find peace, away from the reputation as "the separatist Jedi" or "the victim" or whatever else politicians of the day have decided she is.

I like to think? She meditates? Hides out in the swamp? And pumps out some Radical and Edgy treaties on Force Philosophy on the regular. Reflections and Opinion Pieces on Force Theory.

Bet ordinarily calm and composed scholars on the Force wanna Fight Her.

Meet them in the Space Dennys Parking Lot, you LITTLE SHIT! D:< (no~☆ >:3c )

Know what's been haunting me? And my Yandere loving brain?

What if... an SI-OC? Fffffucked UP™?

Like? STRAIGHT up "....Oh No. I have? GRAVELY miscalculated."? Cause? And I'm probably wrong here, or forgetting nuisances, but? Dooku? Left the order and began his Fall? NOT because he disagreed with the vast majority of Jedi philosophy... but?

Because of what the Jedi had BECOME.

Senate attack dogs. Indentured servants. Following NOT the Force or their Orders Mandate, but a mere GOVERMANT. Politicians. Straight into ruin and slaughter no less! It was vile. Corrupt. A perversion and degradation of HIS beloved Jedi Order.

He was proud and filled with grief, isolated. Palpatine chose well.

But! He was ALSO a Master Jedi with DECADES of Mastery under his belt. You do not become that with out clear vision of what you want. Who you ARE. And Dooku? Very CLEARLY planned on winning. Killing Sidious and taking his place. An unfortunate necessity, really. In his Grand Plan™.

Too?

Start over, obviously.

Instead of just leaving and starting a NORMAL Religious Schism, building a temple on Serrano, and publicly calling his old Council members lil bitchs. Slap fighting in the town square, as is traditional. Maybe sending pass aggressive notes back and forth in the hands of increasingly spoiled Padawan, because OUR temple at least FEEDS these POOR WAIFS. Etc etc?

Dude went the SITH route. Of... you know... "kill everybody".

Bit extreme. Just saying.

However! Dooku? Not well! In fact, DEEPLY unhinged and masterfully hiding it! Because he is, in fact, a MASTER jedi! And know how to fucking DO THAT. So that slow creep of Deepyly Crazy? No one sees it. Gives ya time to miss the countdown to Boom, as it were.

Which leads to our dearly beloved SI. She? Is a well meaning IDIOT. She can't help it. It's the Force, man. All that feel good juice, clogging up her brain! Making her? Optimistic! Vaguely perky! Wanting to see the GOOD in people!!!

Disturbing, she knows. But it is what it is.

And MASTER Dooku? Feels? Stern but warm. Stalwart. Like one of those ancient trees or great temples in a quite moment. Old and powerful, not necessarily KIND, but certainly not UNKIND. Just... fussy, you know? Proper. Collected and self contained. Doesn't like messy and dirty and needless noise.

So... what's an itty bitty Crecheling to do? To stop this Respected Master from falling? Well... Yoda seems to think "babies" works? And SHE is Baby...

Better scrub down so I'm EXTRA not "why are all children so... sticky?" and make my self look as presentable as possible. Then? Plan: Stalk the Respected Master Dooku Like A Duckling is a GO~! Yoda finds this INSTANTLY hilarious. Starts feeding her insider information (One of his many, later Great Regrets).

Dooku likes THIS tea. Meditates in THIS garden. Ask him about THIS subject, no one listens to him rant about it, he'll enjoy lecturing you about it for HOURS. She actually learns quite a lot! Man's a good teacher. And SHE? Is a dutiful, polite, thoughtful, shining young paragon example of what he feels the Jedi SHOULD be.

She LISTENS. Unlike his foolish peers. She tries to better herself, day by day, instead of running around screaming and playing in mud. Asks after etiquette from the courts he's traveled too, so she does not offend in the future. Does not react with blind disgust to questions others would deem heretical!

Instead? SHE comes from a JEDI place of approach with compassion and consultation of the Force. What creates the most GOOD? How can we strive for the kindest, most ethical, most equal social possible? What brings the universe the most Light? Where do OUR duties end and the duties of OTHERS begin, and when is it time to call them on their failings, should there be any?

It is? Delightful~ if he were not already committed to his path, he would seriously consider taking her on as a Padawn. Like the Granddaughter he never had. In FACT? He is conflicted. While he does not wish to lose the bright little light he has become so accustomed too? He should probably do what is best for her.

He IS leaving after all. Eventually. Perhaps after Qui-Gon finally knights his own padawn. He can convince the man to come with him. A talk between them has been so very, very long overdue. And the man is like a son to him. Young Obi-Wan is a fine young Jedi. Upstanding and collected, could use a bit of tempering. Outrageous flirt. It would be hilarious.

It's a good plan.... right up until it isn't.

Until the Council's BLINDNESS lead his SON to dying alone. For Sidious little games. And the place in HIS chosen lineage is USURPED by some WHINY SAND COVERED BRAT who can not CONTROL himself! No. NO.

Absolutely Not.

As far as HE is concerned? HIS lineage? Goes him, Qui-gon, Obi-Wan, and then SI-OC. No Sand Brat. Is he spiraling? Oh yes. Has been for a while. But now? NOW someone just kicked out a major support beam. The building is a'shaking. SI-OC is worried. Knows this could make or break his Fall.

Doesn't realize that ship has sailed LONG before she arrived.

Jedi Master's do not Fall over night. It is the slow erosion that kills them. Death by ten thousand cuts. He was already thousands deep. Bleeding and bleeding, beyond her abilities to heal. Yoda could have changed things. He is a Master. But a mere Crecheling? An untrained child? No. She stood no chance.

Does not realize that, as she stands in the heart of the storm. The center of the bear trap. As composed Master Dooku grieves and rages, hair disheveled and robes a mess. No, he can not come to the comm right now. No, he is not taking visitors, thank you. Please, Master Dooku. Please! Drink some tea? Eat? Something. Anything. I beg you.

It is a focal point. An anchor to cling to, in that great Fall. As SI-OC fusses with blankets and music that might help, pressing her small and fragile light against his shields like a comforting weight. As though trying to protect him from the pain. As though ANYTHING could protect him.

Sits with him, in remembrance.

Comes with him, to the funeral.... where stands the sand brat. At HER Master's side. As though enough has not been stolen. How dare he? How dare THEY? To allow this!? Hatred festers. Rage. The mania that Darkness brings. He sees now. Ooooo ho ho, does he now see.

The Order has become Rotten. It cannot be saved. The Jedi have lost their way.

The old must be purged... and they must begin again.

It's all so CLEAR now. So simple. The path forward. Its so obvious now, HE is not leaving, oh no, THEY are leaving. It would be madness to leave a vulnerable Crecheling in such unfettered corruption. Exposed to the nonexistent mercies of Sidious and his ilk. Not to mention, Force knows what filth they'd attempt to stuff in her head behind his back!

Knight Kenobi is an adult. Can comport himself and defend his person. SI-OC can not. She is just a youngling. Should have BARELY been a padawn. But... things have changed.

SI-OC fall asleep, comfortable and certain she is perfectly safe, in MASTER Dooku's apartments. Just another Tea Time and obscure Force Philosophy lecture. Maybe some hands-on etiquette lessons. There are many, MANY different ways to take tea. And... man... the room is so cozy. Always so comfortable and tastefully inviting. Warm an... an snoozy... feelin... *thunk of a small child falling over, dead to the world*

Drugged? Sleep suggestion? Soothing bedtime tea? Yes. Yes, he did. She stood literally negative chances. He scoops up HIS granddaughter and leaves droids to pack the rest. Tucks her under his cloak. No one thinks to even check. Who would? He is trusted. Respected. It is well known how he dotes upon the child. Old age has softened him, some jest.

The dangers of attachment indeed. But it is not HIM who is in danger. It is HER who his attachment endangers. Because he can not let go. WILL NOT. Because it can crossed from caring to obsessive. Possessive. To mine, mine, mine.

Children are not property. Not toys or trophies. Teddy bears to squeeze until your hurt stops. They are living, breathing, entities in their own right. Which is something a JEDI would be able to accept. The SITH? No. No, see, his Great-grandpadawn is HIS. This is HIS family. HIS Jedi order. HIS plan to "fix" everything.

She done fucked up.

She wakes up on a ship to Serrano with COUNT Dooku.

His... his eyes turn Interesting Colors now. Ha ha... she is... staying Very Calm. It is REALLY important to stay VERY calm. No sudden movements. We Do Not startle the Darksider! Eeeeeeverones FRIENDS here! R-Right?

Oh of course. Nothing to be worried about, dear. You're just going to his Manor until the NEW temple is finished. (Neat. Terrifying. So, SO many horrifying parts of that sentence). And SI-OC? Pulls the good ol "never argue with the crazy person with a gun" technique. Smile and Nod! Mmmmhmmm! G-great! Can't wait!

(Oh god, help me)

War breaks out. She's on THE Separatist planet. But not? Before crazy grandpa? Has hired bounty hunters to find him force sensitive kids. You know, for the NEW Jedi order. Because we're all pretending here. Smile and nod, fellow hostages. For the love of the Force, smile and nod.

She's not entirely even certain half these children were from families that WANTED to give them up. It makes her sick to think about.

She still has to have Tea Time. Because she, a child, is the HEAD of the New Order. And he has decades of Jedi knowledge to impart. Also? Lonely and fixating. We're a happy family. Because I say so and have hostages. That's why you love you, don't you dear? *SI-OC with a wide, terrified hostage smile* mmmmhmm!

The Jedi? Have figured out what happened. Crecheling mysteriously disappeared at the same time a Count Dooku? They originally thought she tried to follow him. Got lost or grabbed by slavers. But now... NOW? Oh Force they know they horrifying truth. The Darksider stole a CHILD.

Everyone remembers SI-OC. She was the sweet little duckling. Well behaved and polite. A kind child. Worried for Count Dooku. And now look at what's happened?! The CIS is trotting out the "head" or their "new order" and it's their lost Crecheling. Now a teenager. Terror in her eyes and a fixed jedi smile.

The Creche Masters have to be physically dragged away from stealth ships. (They're just going to talk! They're jUST GOING TO TAL-!!!) Plo Koon is fucking HELPING and that's NOT helpful! No, your commander do NOT have "a point"! You can not do just a "little bit" of murder as "a treat"!

A certain Quinlan Vos? Never heard of him, of course, rocks up to this New Order with a smoothie. Has betrayed the OLD order and the Republic. Definitely for realisies and not because he's here to spy! Heeeeey, kiddo. How you holding up?

Answer? Oh THANK GOD, AN ADULT JEDI! Halp! Followed by gross sobbing. So... you know... not GREAT. Wouldn't recommend it.

But! The INTEL. Sweet holy shit, kid. Chips. Palpatine. Dooku behind the Clones. Everything ELSE she's quietly been noting down. Uuuuh, yeah. Yeah that WILL be... real useful.... Holy shit. No, seriously, give him a second. Just like that? Huh. Didn't even have to convince you. Wow. Okay.

Well then! Let's fuck over some Sith!

How the Shadows go about it? Probably very action movie and nail biting. High octane. Sweet big budget cgi effects. They get the De-chipped clones involved. Fox gets to finally, FINALLY shoot his boss. Never a happier man. He deserves it.

But that's not important. What IS? Is Quinlan Vos? Showing up to the Temple, with a burger and smelling strongly of smoke, and like.... over 450 force sensitive younglings, teenage and below. And probably a litter of tookas. Because what? Were they supposed to LEAVE them?

She takes One(1) step into the temple and gets hit with like? Three generations of Guilt Complexes. Man Pain. Yoda, Obi-Wan, AND Anikin? Mother FUCKER, you were 9! What were you supposed to DO? Bite him?! You literally JUST GOT HERE. *SI-OC has used Logic against Skywalker Guilt... it is not very effective!*

When? When will she be freeeeeeee? Cannon Yoda had the right idea.

She should go hide in a fucking SWAMP.

@babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes @hypewinter @mayfay @hdgnj

[changelingsandothernonsense]

The people need to know where Josh would and wouldn't jerk it

Hello!!! I'm dying for a Josh attitude laugh so without further ado, Joshi's Top Ten Best and Worst places to jork it in Skyrim Province. If this does well then he might write a list about Morrowind and or Cyrodiil. Under a cut for being very NSFT

The Best of the Worst!

10. Best My room at Severin Manor.

Yeah, obvious I know! But you tell me that your house isn't probably the best place to jerk it without worry... I just gotta remember to lock the damn door... or not. Fuck um... Ah...I guess this would also go for my room at the Netch. I do remember to lock that door. I have some standards!

10. Worst The Gray Quarter

Why I don't fucking want to jerk it here? One, it's fucking freezing, which is already a turn-off. Two, it's a fucking slum where the walls are made of paper and everyone in the whole district can hear you. Do you hear that Malthyr?! I can fucking hear you!!! You're not that fucking appealing! I'm soft now! 9. Best The counter top of Sadri's Used Wares

Yes I know it's fucking crass, but who're you talking to? It's fucking funny to look my now wife's ex in the eye after I've done it too an he has no fucking idea! Yeah fuck you too dude, clean-up on isle seven. I am a jealous, petty mer but I am atleast aware of it. 9. Worst Morthal

It's a vampire infected swamp! Who the fuck decided to build a town in a cold, wet marsh!? I want their number, I got words for 'em an I'm not gonna be pleasant. Like I'm minding my business in whatever excuse for an inn they have there an this chick just sits herself on my lap like I was asking for it. Corruption sees corruption you know- she knew what I was an I her. Flaccid for a good few days after that near miss so there was no opportunity to jerk off anyway. You know how fucking hard it is to get clean yourself in water taken from a swamp? Give Morthal a skip unless you're into swamp vampires. 8. Best When in Riften

Sydari drags me to Riften fairly often to check on "business". Said "business" is in a secret hidey hole in the sewer an naturally I'm not allowed down in the super secret hideout. That's fine- it's fine! Anyway I get her house to myself a lot of the time (unless her ex husband has decided to ruin my day). Honeyside has it all, a lake I can swim in, a bath, a workshop I can tinker in... Look I may have chosen specifically to come in Brand-Shei's bathrobe after he broke my nose out of spite an I don't apologise for doing it. Fucking heir to House Telvanni? Bastard wouldn't even qualify to lick the guar shit from Neloth's shoe! Um...what was I talking about? Oh right-

8. Worst The Thieve's Hidey Hole

The cistern smells exactly like you'd think it does. Think about how Riften smells like stagnant canal fish water and stale piss. Now turn that up to ten an you have the fucking Cistern! No I'm not meant to be down there an yes I did follow Sydari down there once when I was bored. The guild can have it. I'm not jerking it here. It stinks! 7. Best A Jarl's Throne

This is more a fetish of mine idk I just think it's fucking funny to break into a throne room, rub one out on the great big chair an fucking leave without anyone noticing. Ultimate power move in the face of a self-congratulatory bastard who got that seat through an accident of birth. Taking them down a peg turns me the fuck on an I'm not gonna apologise for it! No I haven't jerked off on Ulfric's throne yet but that stupid fuck in Falkreath had a fun morning! 7. Worst The sulphur flats of Eastmarch

If it's not Hircine worshiping witches with a goat head fetish then it's dragons or wolves or Stormcloaks. It smells like the ass end of Red Mountain (also not a recommended place to jerk off). Look, there was one time ol' Sanguine got in touch with me whilst I was with my girlfriend an we kinda ended up in a weird marriage pact with a hagraven. It's not sexy I can assure you. There's just a fuck tonne of beasties that could ruin your me-time. It's just not worth your time. Also there's a group of Ashlanders that follow Ulath-Pal that have set up camp there an they kinda want the head of the Urshilaku Ashkhan...and I like my neck the way it is. Having said that.

6. Best The Eldergleam Sanctuary.

But TELDRRYYNNN you whine! That's a place of worship! You complain. Hey! Hey! Who are you talking to? I do not give a fuck! Look Sydari an I camped there an we had a huge fight over me being me. I left an found me a secluded little corner by a waterfall. Had a pretty rainbow and everything. I was actually relaxed for once an things just kinda went that way. It's a nice place to get yourself off... Spriggans not withstanding. Do not tell the Dragonborn that I'm the reason for everyone in that sanctuary being chased out by angry Spriggans, kay? No I haven't learnt anything from this an I'd do it again simply because of the above-mentioned thing about how defiling a place of power getting me off.

6. Worst Candlehearth Hall

I'm not allowed in here. None of us Dunmer are allowed in here! It's in Windhelm so I'm not really inclined to stick about yeah? Like sure I could ruin something but the atmosphere here just makes me painfully soft so... I'll piss in that cunt's stew though! 5. Best Any Temple of Talos

Because of the irony. BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING IRONY! 5. Worst. Bandit Camps

The temptation's there, I get it. You've cleared out a camp full of second rate idiots and you've pilfered their treasures. You're fucking tired an maybe you found their drug stash...usually you've found their drug stash an you're all prepped to pass out after blowing your load in the chief's bed. Take a second to think because I sure as fuck didn't an now I got another scar on my ass!

That was some real post-nut clarity right there! 4. Best Markarth's Dwemer Museum

Look the whole reason Calcelmo an that fetching nephew of his even have a museum is because of my research. The guy had my favourite sword an dagger in a case which like I appreciate the Crescent was in good hands an all but like also they're mine. It's all mine...I have a possession problem I guess. No I haven't rubbed one out here yet but fuck...my mind is so fucking warped! Like I would! I want to. FUCK!

4. Worst Wolfskull Cave

A cave near Solitude, seemingly inconspicuous and you might be tempted to take some time to yourself, yeah? Guess again. First thing you're gonna notice about this cave is that it smells like rot. That's your first sign it's probably not a great place to whip your dick out. Secondly you're gonna find the place is crawling with undead and fucking necromancers! Look, I'm not the best around anything dead an walkin. I avoid burials like the plague. I'm fucking terrified of it! I spent the whole time trying not to lose my cool in there. I spent all night trying not to freak the fuck out. Last thing I was doing was playing with myself.

Oh look, top three! I'm surprised you've made it this far in my guide to jerking it across Skyrim. I guess I should throw in some special mentions, DO jerk off as close to the Thalmor Embassy as you can. It's hot to make those stiffs angry and I know they wish they could taste me. DO NOT jerk off in the Blue Palace coz you will get caught and they will put you in a dungeon. Don't go in their dungeon I'm serious! Also don't try both in one night because you're drunk and lonely. It doesn't end well. Anyway... 3. Best The beach near Nchardak

I have a small camp set up on the beach near the ruins. Spent a fuck tonne of time there when I was "working" with Neloth on the puzzle locks there. It's where I used to go when I'd had enough of Neloth's bullshit. So naturally I've found myself cranking one out after a long day of researching. There's something oddly romantic about it. The sound of the Sea of Ghosts lapping at the ash covered sand, the beauty of the aurora overhead an no one to fucking bother me! I ah...I don't like bedclothes so the solitude lets me relax and just take care of shit. 3. Worst Tel Mithryn

Do you know how unsexy a giant fucking mushroom is? Why do you think most Telvanni Wizards are older than Vivec's left nut? No one wants to fuck in mushroom stink! It's like I'm smelling dirt an that's bothering the fuck out of me as I'm tugging an it's just ruining my mood! That an I think Neloth jush knows when I'm doing it and sends his dumb fuck apprentice over to offer me Canis Root Tea.

You can see how this is a problem right? It's fucking torture! Why do you think I just set up a yurt on the beach? My poor dick hurt!

2. Best Blackreach

Yes, there's Falmer an Animunculi an wisps an all that but I think you are well aware of how much I feel at ease over things that are pretty. Blackreach has everything that makes me happy. Dwemer ruins, things for me to belt the shit out of, clean water, GLOW. You stop me from whipping it out here? 2. Worst High Hrothgar

You know, I was tossing up between this an like the top of the mountain coz both have the same problems. One, it's colder than anything I can describe. Even inside the building there's fucking frost! You can light all the fires you want and the place is still fucking freezing! I gotta wear actual underwear when I'm here on top of all the other layers I gotta wear just to not feel like I'm about to die of hypothermia! Do you know how much I hate wearing underwear? Do you know how fucking uncomfortable thermal underclothes are? Even if I wanted to rub out a quick one, an believe me I have on multiple occasions, I'd have to fish my cock out from all the layers an he's hiding something fierce! Then you've got all those stuffy old men who haven't gotten off since I was still mortal watching me like they know my dick still works. Mothballs, old man stink, cold, dark walls with ice coating the door. I mean I can and have fucked here, I'm pretty sure this is where my daughter was conceived so like that's saving it from the number one spot. It's just I'd rather be anywhere else! 1. Best Sky Haven Temple

I hate the Blades. I hate what they represent. I hate that they still think they can boss around people in the name of an Empire that died long ago. I hate how they speak to my now wife an I hate that they expect me to lead them given my old position in the organisation. One- I have never wanted anything to do with the Blades. My membership was part of my prision sentence. Two- I killed my superiour out of revenge for my Corprus infection an I have zero regrets about it. They still think I owe them something. I don't! So why is it at the top of my list? Well, I'm fucking the Dragonborn aren't I? No one's gonna kick me out without her following me. Look I knew it would end with us leaving but I just could not help myself. It's the whole throne room thing again. I legitimatly get off on this shit! An fuck me was this one of the best solo nuts of my life! I don't care if Delphine has to clean the War Room. That's my territory now! 1. Worst Apocrypha

The question of "Can you jerk off in Oblivion?" isn't one that comes up often... unless you're me of course. I've done a good ninety year stint in Revelry. It's possible if the relm's set up for pleasure. Mora's house? That guy's missing his section on erotica. Yeah I know there's something to be said for all the oily tenticles if you're into that kinda thing. I'm not. I'm really not into it. You'd think I would be, given my love of knowlage an all that but FUCK! I've never felt so sick in my life! No, I have but that's not important. Why you don't want to jerk off in Hermaeus Mora's house? Simple. It smells like fish and rotting books! I'm not a guy who'll fuck just anywhere an that also goes for fucking myself. The place is disorientatiting at the best of times, the floor moves under your feel an there's strange Daedra behind every corner. I got taken by Sydari's predecessor whom I accedently released whilst I was looking for her an yeah...kinda got stuck there for gods know how long! I was mad at the end of it, took me far too long to recover after I'd been pulled out of there. I missed my daughter's first steps, her first words. It was a fucking nightmare the likes that only the Sharmat would conceive- no, no Voryn actually tried to get me off so... Look, you don't want to even set foot in Libraryland, let alone whip your dick out and rub one out whilst you're lost there. Unless you're partual to having it morph into one of those tenticle things before your eyes. Unless you're into that kinda thing, I ain't judging.

I am judging...

Anyway that's it um...Why was I talking about this again?

[wingedhallows]

traitor - ch. one; sirius black

pairing: sirius black (golden trio era) x fem! oc | 0.9k words warning: dark themes, death, torture plot: Fourteen years ago, Hecate Hunt, a valuable member of the Order and once a Death Eater gave her life for her friends and the man she loved, at least that's what was believed. Now she's done hiding, ready to fight alongside her old friends and her godson. Ready to return to the life she once had, ready to once again be a traitor. authors note: hi there! I've been meaning to write this since it's been wandering around in my head for weeks. Thank you for reading and let me know if you liked it! :) ps.: this is the first work of mine in years, i wrote a lot of fanfics in highschool but somehow this helps with taking my mind off things. thank u &lt;3 btw, things aren't absolutely accurate so don't come for me, let's just vibe, ok? ok.

navigation | chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four

then

"I want you all to meet a new member to the order. I believe her to be trusted, however you might think." from behind the old wizard a young woman emerged. Hair dark and long, a solem look on her face as she stepped infront of him. "Nice to meet you." she spoke, voice deep and firm. Her eyes were dark, almost black in the dim lit kitchen of the Black residence. Sirius felt himself lean forward, determined to catch a glimpse of her face.

"This is Hecate Hunt, a powerful witch and-"a Death Eater." Alastor Moody spoke, his eye skimming from side to side, mouth in a smarl. "Felt it minutes ago." The other members let their shock be known. Gasps and whispers present. She knew the members, of course. How could she not know the legendary Marauders, for one. 

"Why would you bring a Death Eater to this place, Albus?" Minerva spoke, voice almost too quiet to hear. Hecate let her gaze wander to Lily and James Potter who held hands, thumbs stroking each others hands. She had known the younger members, as she visited Hogwarts the same years they did. They were hard to miss. Remus Lupin just stared at her, hands in fists. Sirius Black on the other hand had his jaw clenched, mouth in a scowl and his wand in his hand. She knew of the older Black all too well. She had listened to the Dark Lord complain about Walburga and Orions incapability of turning their own son to the dark side multible times.

"Hecate has changed her mind in light of recent events.-"I don't buy it. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." Sirius interupted Albus, his fist connected with the dark wooden table as he spat the words. Anger rose inside of her, she knew of his temper, had seen it first hand in their school days. "Oh you would know all about it, right? Since your familiy's swamped with'em and all, Black." Hecate spat, hands now crossed over her chest. She stooped low, she knew, but she had to get in, she had to make a change. She wouldn't let Black ruin it.

Sirius was fast to jump to his feet, wand raised and his body shaking with anger. "How dare yo-"Sirius, please." Remus tugged him down to his chair. Hecate didn't back down, ready to take whatever would jump from the purebloods wand. It wouldn't be worse than to stand against the Cruciato curse, which made its way passed Lord Voldemorts lips all too often. 

Albus huffed a sigh as he eyed Sirius. "If i could continue what i was about to say." Hecate shifted her weight from one leg to another, uneasy with the mood in the room. "Hecate was the witch who freed Alice and Frank Longbottom from the clutches of Death Eaters." he paused, looking at the woman next to him. "Delivered them right to me. I believe that no real Death Eater would've shown them mercy. Therefore, after careful thinking, i recruit Hecate Hunt to be a member of the Order." she gave him a curt nod before taking a seat. She had freed them, too late though. Barty Crouch Jr had broken their minds when she arrived. She'd just spared them from their death. Her eyes once again connected with those of Sirius.

"The reason why i want to help you, is my sister."

now

Harry made his way passed the table, to the cabinets filled with plates and mugs. Sirius sat at the head of the table, a mug in one hand and the daily prophet in the other. "Morning, Harry." he spoke, a hopeful smile on his bearded face. Remus Lupin sat to his right, a little notebook placed on the table in front of him as he looked up at Padfoots godson. "Morning." he spoke as he saw Harry. He also greeted Lupin with a small smile. "Good Morning."  They didn't mind Harry looking around, it was an old and interesting house after all. Harry thanked Kreacher as the house elf scrambled to make the kid a cup of tea. His eyes locked on a picture frame. The only picture frame there was. 

There he saw Sirius and a woman he didn't know. Sirius looked younger, twenty maybe, the woman next to him was beautiful. Her dark long hair hung down her shoulders, shimmering in the warm sunlight as a bright smile spread across her pale face. Sirius gave her an adoring look before he smacked his lips on her cheek. The moment repeated, as every foto in the wizard world does.

"Sirus." he spoke, voice quiet. "Who is this?"

He turned around to look at his godfather. His face had frozen up, the shadow of a tear in his eyes. "Harry.." He could hear Remus say, an attempt of pushing the matter away.

"That's.." Sirius had to take a breath, his voice failing him. "Hecate Hunt." he spoke. He took a sip of his mug, the daily prophet long forgotten on the table in front of him. "Your godmother." it was merely a whisper as he spoke. Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He had a godmother, somewhere out there-"She's dead." his voice rang in Harry's head. Harry placed the picture on the table, hand on his hip as he tried again. "How-"That's enough, Harry." Remus said, before Sirius rose to his feet and left, a quiet sob sounded in the distance.

"You-Know-Who killed her, there's nothing more to it." Remus spoke before he walked after his best friend. The boy once more stared at the picture in front of him. The woman, Hecate, once again gave the camera a warm smile. Just as young Sirius planted another forcefull kiss on her cheek he could hear a loud rumble upstairs. 

Sirius had just blown something to bits.

[maglors-anion-gap]

I was going to write a better breakdown of the misogyny here, but I just don’t have it in me.

But to be honest I’m not surprised this surfaced during an ask game of this nature. The express purpose of the game is to get people to dish angrily and at length on whatever they happen to feel strongly about. Amazingly, dislike is not a reliable or consistent indicator of quality, and sometimes brutally honest takes are … not great.

Excluding the discussions of abrasive fan behavior, the rest are mostly “I read a fic I don’t like” and “why don’t more people do XYZ.” It literally does not matter what people enjoy or write as long as they are being good community members. I love a good complain, but past a point we’re not having a good complain (or a private complain) we’re having a public shaming of … things that are largely a matter of preference. Generally, people are more willing to do something you like if they feel like they’re all collaborating on it, rather than being taken to task for not doing it sooner - of like they’re going to be the topic of vague posts or discord laugh circles if they do something else. What is the end goal here except keeping people in line through social mockery?

All this to say I think the spirit of the game made it almost inevitable that someone would put forth an opinion that was not only pointed and sour, but also offensive.

I think if your litmus test for if a character (or hell, a real person) has been abused is “they seem too badass/self actualized/strong to submit to that” then you’ve fundamentally misunderstood abuse, it’s core, and it’s myriad presentations

[inlovewithgreta]

Potions — Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Cordelia had been perfecting a potion for weeks now, and it was finally time to put it to the test.

Warnings: aphrodisiac potion, mentions of alcohol, praise kink, explicit language, use of magical abilities, scissoring, fingering, oral, etc…

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: apologies for the extremely slow updates, I’ve been swamped with work and dealing with personal issues and mental health problems. thank y’all for being so patient with me! 💛

...also I was going to make the potion take longer to work but I’m a whore and wanted to write smut. although I did leave an opening for perhaps a part two??

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"How much longer, 'Delia?" You asked, sneaking your arms around the blonde's slim waist. "I'm growing cold up there without my favorite supreme wrapped in my arms." Your lips couldn't help but fall into a pout as you rested your chin on her shoulder.

"I'm the only supreme, darling." She giggled, keeping her focus on the two glasses in front of her as she dumped a maroon colored liquid just below the rims. "And I'm just finishing up. I think I've finally perfected it!" She bit her plump bottom lip, turning her head to face you with excitement.

"Finally," you gave the blonde a quick kiss. "I really hope this works this time. I can't wait to see which one of us gives in first." You smirked against her lips.

"We haven't even drank it yet and you're already kissing me, darling. It's going to be you. You're very needy."

You protrude your bottom lip in a faux pout that only elicited a wider smile from the blonde and another quick peck to your lips in a reassuring kiss.

"God, I love when you make that face. It's absolutely adorable."

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words and tugged at her shirt to bring her to the plush blanket sprawled out and decorated with a few scattered pillows that sat just a few feet away from the lit fireplace.

Cordelia was well coordinated, and didn't spill a single drop of her newest concoction at your eagerness to bring her back towards the warmth.

You were first to plop down, Cordelia offering your drink to you before she sat down beside you, shoulders just barely touching yours.

"Nuh uh, not so fast, darling." Cordelia stopped your glass from tipping any further when you were too caught up in excitement over your drink. "We have to drink it at the exact same time."

You had nearly forgotten about the specifics, her concoctions always had to be done the way she said so, and it wasn't your place to question the witch when she gave you an order.

Cordelia admired your excitement. It always put a smile on her face that you were always so keen on trying new things, especially if it was something she made specifically for you.

"I really hope this works," Cordelia said quietly.

"It will. I just know it." You reassured her.

The witch then cleared her throat and held her glass towards you, and you were sure to clink your glass against hers in unison before both of you took your first sips from the dark substance.

You let out a sound of approval as the liquid hit your tastebuds. A sweet mix of apple, cinnamon, and a dash of alcohol entered your system. It tasted warm and inviting, the drink instantly putting you at ease...or so you thought.

Your gaze flicked over to the woman next to you who was still focused on her drink. Too focused to notice the way your eyes darkened when her tongue slowly swiped along the sugar coated rim on her glass.

You could feel your cheeks grow warm, and it wasn't just from the fireplace. It felt like you were heating up from the inside out. Your thoughts were in the gutter as a familiar ache grew between your legs.

You tried to play it off by nonchalantly repositioning yourself and squeezing your thighs together, the action not going unnoticed by the blonde.

Cordelia smirked and gulped down the rest of her drink, purposely tipping her glass far too much to let a few stray droplets of liquid fall from the corner of her mouth and land upon the upper swell of her breast.

The witch nonchalantly swiped her thumb along the droplet before sucking the liquid from her finger, purposely eliciting a low moan to play with you.

"How are you feeling, baby? You're looking a little...flushed." Her curved lashes fluttered as her dilated gaze moved from your face down to your bare thighs that were heavily pressed together.

"It's just a bit hot in here, that's all." You attempted to ignore her lustful gaze, instead busying yourself by downing the rest of the homemade potion.

The blonde tugged at the strap of your dress, slowly sliding it down to reveal more of your soft, smooth skin. "I would say I can fix that, but at this rate, it's only going to get much hotter in here." Your gaze flew back to the witch, who looked ethereal with the glow from the fireplace hitting half of her face in just the right place.

"Is that a fact or a promise?" You toyed, pointer finger flicking at the buttons that held her silk blouse together.

"Come here and find out," she bit her plump bottom lip, eyes sparkling with desire.

You nearly pounced on the witch, knocking the glasses out of the way as your lips engulfed hers in a fiery kiss. Cordelia's hands found the hem of your dress, lifting the fabric over your hips and tugging at it, in a way that told you to help her remove the clothing item.

The dress flew to an unknown location after you briefly broke the kiss to help her, neither of you caring where it went and instead rejoining your lips.

You straddled her waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt and groaning out of frustration into the kiss as you struggled to free her of her clothing.

A loud rip tore through the room, buttons flying in multiple directions as you managed to tear her blouse open and slide it from her body.

"I loved that shirt," Cordelia mumbled against your lips.

"I'll buy you a new one."

In this moment, you didn't care about the shirt, you cared about how the woman you were straddling was intoxicating. Her floral scent was stronger, her skin felt softer, and the way she had your pussy wet from just a kiss drove you mad with desire.

Cordelia slowly fell back against the cushioned blanket, your lips leaving hers to place tender kisses along her jawline before nipping at the skin along her neck.

"Mm, fuck that worked quicker than I thought it would," Cordelia admitted after eliciting a low moan at your mouth leaving marks down from her neck to her chest.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh at her words before moving her sheer bra to the side, allowing you access to her breast. An eager tongue flicked at her hardened nipple before your mouth latched onto her tit. Your free hand grasped at her other breast, moving the same fabric to the side so you can twist her nipple between your fingers.

Cordelia's breath hitched, back briefly arching from the ground as you gave her chest the attention she was craving.

"Fuck, I need more. It's not enough," she whimpered as her hips just barely bucked below you.

"Mmm, who's the needy one now?" You mumbled, sending wet kisses down past her navel.

Cordelia wrapped a hand in your hair, pulling slightly at the strands just enough to elicit a moan from you, and force your face to look up at her.

"How about you just use that pretty little mouth to fuck me."

You only smirked at her words as you returned to kissing along her body, but stopping along her hip bone to leave fresh love bites along her porcelain skin.

Cordelia squirmed when your head reached her lace panties. Her body ached for you. Hips bucked in anticipation as your teeth took hold of her panties, slowly sliding the thin fabric down her legs.

Your eyes never left hers as you kissed your way up her calves, across her inner thighs, and over to her bare wet pussy. You had never seen her so wet before, and you couldn't wait to taste her dripping cunt.

Your tongue licked the strip up her folds, Cordelia immediately raking her fingers through your hair. You circled her clit slowly and meticulously that forced a sinful moan out of the witch.

"Just like that—" Her smooth legs held you close, while her fingers held your head right where she wanted you.

Cordelia was quick to fall into a blissful state as you lavished her cunt, the fireplace behind you crackling loudly, flames growing brighter the more pleasure you gave Cordelia.

"M-more, I need more! Please," the sound of your lover begging only encouraged you to give her everything she desired.

A single finger easily slid past her entrance covered in arousal, the added sensation leaving Cordelia breathless. As you multitasked, tongue swiping at her clit and finger slowly sliding in and out of her, Cordelia's back arched ever so slightly with quiet whimpers escaping past her lips.

You couldn't help but gaze at the woman in front of you, the way her porcelain skin flowed under the firelight. The way her body squirmed at your touch. And you couldn't help but hum in approval when the grip on your hair tightened.

"Fuck, I need more! Baby please!"

A second finger slid inside her cunt, instantly finding the soft spot with each thrust that had elongated moans reverberating off the dimly lit walls.

Cordelia could feel her body heating up, beads of sweat forming along her chest and forehead, both from warmth from the fire and her own body working itself up from pleasure.

"How's that feel, baby?" You sweetly asked, eyes noting every movement Cordelia made.

"Soo good," the blondes breath was shaky and low.

You picked up your pace against her cunt, ignoring the strain you felt against your forearm as you worked your way to give Cordelia the best treatment she deserves.

Cordelia could feel the welcoming knot in her abdomen, fingers gripping onto your hair to keep your head in place. The witch wasn't taking any chances of you pulling away and making her wait to finish.

"I'm so close.." Her eyes grew bright from the dancing flames as her gaze fell upon you between her legs.

"Let go, baby."

Cordelia's legs stiffened around you, a sharp gasp followed by the roaring of the fireplace behind you let you know that the witch was at her peak. Her back had lifted from the floor, toes curling, and fingers pulling at your hair.

"Fuck!"

The blonde was unable to form a full sentence as she came along your fingers that refused to stop, allowing your lover to ride her high as long as possible.

You hummed as you tasted her along your tongue, slowing your movements little by little on her cunt. Cordelia's vision went blurry, chest riding and falling rapidly as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Okay, okay— I can't—" Cordelia pulled at your hair, forcing your head away from her dripping pussy.

You swiped at your bottom lip with a smirk, immediately crawling your way up her lightly freckled body to engulf her in a heated kiss. You were quick to straddle her, hands fiddling with her tits as her tongue dipped into your mouth.

Her own hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides before grabbing hold of your hips and pulling you the rest of the way down to her. Your wet pussy pressed against her own, and your hips couldn't help but needlessly grind down against her.

"Oh my god..." your words were breathless into the kiss.

Her grip was tight along your hips, manicured nails ever so slightly digging into your skin as she guided you back and forth.

"That feels so good," you whimpered.

Cordelia was already sensitive due to her previous orgasm, but the newfound pleasure from your clit grinding against hers had her eager to chase after another high.

"Let me see you, baby." Cordelia was not only eager to reach another orgasm, but she was even more eager to watch you grind yourself against her.

With one last kiss to her lips, and gently pulling at her lower as you lifted up, Cordelia's chestnut eyes danced over your figure.

There was nothing the witch loved more than to see you on top of her. The way your hair fell around your face, the slight jiggle in your tits as you moved, and the way your hips needlessly moved as you pleasured yourself on her.

"You're so damn beautiful," her hands dipped behind you, grabbing a steady hold of your ass.

Your own hands squeezed at her tits as you held yourself together, a loud hum escaping your throat at her words as your own mouth was unable to form a sentence.

"Just like that, baby. You're doing so good."

You could feel the heat creep onto your cheeks, not from the roaring fireplace behind you, but from the words coming from Cordelia's lips.

She loved praising you and admiring you just as much as you loved to hear it from her. It only made you want to work harder, do your best to ensure you would hear those words again.

You could feel your legs begin to stiffen and your hips start moving at their own pace, and you could feel yourself getting worked up towards your release.

You easily slid across Cordelia's soaked pussy, low moans filling the room as the both of you felt the pleasure only increase.

"So..close..." you whimpered.

"Not yet, baby. I'm almost there. Just a little bit longer."

Cordelia's nails dragged along your hips, leaving minor scratches in their wake that only elicited another moan from you as you lazily nodded your head at her words.

Your stomach tightened and you knew you could finish right then and there, but if Cordelia said to wait, then you would wait for her. You love when you came together. The way your bodies would orgasm at the same time, filling you both with a feeling of euphoria and bliss.

"I can't— 'Delia, please," you whined.

Cordelia's head fell back, mouth agape as her own hips moved in the opposite directions yours did to speed up the process.

It didn't take long thereafter for the witch to nod her head rapidly, moans becoming more consistent as she hurried quickly towards her release.

"Fuck! Come with me!" The words flew from her mouth just before she pulled her bottom lip sharply between her teeth.

Cordelia's legs shook while your breathing stopped, all sounds coming from you going silent as you came along Cordelia's cunt. The blonde followed you soon after, eyebrows knitting as her grip along your hips never ceased.

The flames from the dimly lit candles spread throughout the room went out in a flash, only the fire from the fireplace cascading a glow over both you and Cordelia.

You gasped as you finally caught your breath, Cordelia loosening her grip on you to instead ease up your shaky movements. Your body shook as Cordelia's hands slid to your back, urging your body forward to press her lips against yours.

Your breasts fell in line with Cordelia's as your hands slid to her slim waist. The blonde couldn't help but close her legs, squeezing her thighs tightly together as your lips were pressed together as one.

Cordelia sighed after you broke from the kiss for air, your head immediately falling to the crook of her neck. Her fingers ran tender lines up and down your back as you gave her neck a tender kiss, both of you silently laying there in each other's arms.

The witch was expecting the effects of the potion to wear off by now, but grew curious as to why when she was pressing her thighs together, that she felt the same ache between her thighs as before.

She needed more. Craved for more. Desired more.

You could feel the woman move slightly beneath you, but she gave you no chance to think on it when she expertly flipped the two of you over, eliciting an unexpected gasp from you. The woman now sat on top of you, eyes completely filled with desire as she lowered her lips to hover just centimeters over yours.

"Oh I'm not done just yet." A wicked smirk toyed at her lips, mascara covered eyelashes fluttering as she lowered her tone next to your ear. "I want to ride your face. To feel you lavish every inch of me. To come along your tongue as my fingers play with your pussy."

You felt the same ache she did, the need for more pushing you to force your lips back against hers in a heated kiss that left both of you feeling feral.

If that's what Cordelia wanted, you were going to give it to her... and so much more.

[thatdruidgal]

What to put in your grimoire [upg]

Putting Together Your Grimoire/Book of Shadows

With so many lists out there, it’s hard to know what you need. So here’s what you should put in your grimoire!*

* Do NOT include anything you won’t use, such as magick you don’t practice or things that are common knowledge for you, make sure you only include things you will reference on a regular basis

This is basically an expanded version of a previous post

See this post for how to organize your Grimoire

Introduction

- a protection spell for the book

- your devotion to the craft

- your intentions

- your code of conduct/ethics

- a short daily mantra/affirmations

- a list of the crafts you practice

- your personal info like your zodiac signs, astrology chart, life number, tarot card, and more

- your witch name, coven name, pen name, Druid nickname, etc

- your ancestry and heritage

- your signature/personal sigil

- worldviews

- your deities

Your craft (pick what you practice)

- lunar magick

- nature/green magick

- hearth/cottage magick

- energy magick

- urban magick

- crystal magick

- kitchen magick

- spirit magick

- hedge magick

- grey magick

- death magick

- sea magick

- sun magick

- elemental magick

- swamp magick

- faery magick

- cosmic magick

- urban magick

- literary magick

- forest magick

- music magick

- chaos magick

- shadow magick

- techno magick

- desert magick

- art magick

- secular magick

For each type of magick you practice, make a section that includes any of the following:

- activities having to do with that magick

- favorite ingredients of that magick

- common correspondences of that magick (herbs, crystals, lunar phases, elements, metals, planetary alignment, animal spirits, types of fae, ley line landmarks, essential oil scents, etc)

- tools used for this type of magick

- recipes for that type of magick (spell jars, sachets, for kitchen magick: food and drink, for green magick: teas and potions, for crystal magick: crystal grids, for faery/spirit/deity magick: offerings, for elemental magick: altar arrangements)

- tips used with this magic (for green magick: how to dry and store herbs, for lunar magick: lunar calendar dates, for kitchen magick: cooking with intent)

Also make a “general magick” section for other things you use like

- color correspondences

- days of the week correspondences

- magickal water and its uses

- sigils (your drawing method, your activation method)

- warding

- sabbats

- cleansing (your method: smoking, crystals, sound, energy, etc)

- blessings/enchantments

Divination

- tarot

- omens

- superstitions

- hedge riding/astral projection

- augury

- astragalomancy

- biorhythms

- cartomancy

- chiromancy

- cleromancy

- geomancy

- graphology

- necromancy

- numerology

- osteomancy

- sacred geometry

- shell divination

- tasseomancy

- theriomancy

Religious beliefs

- religion you follow

- your deities

- deity work

- prayers

Miscellaneous

- what you want to learn more about/incorporate more of

- witchcraft on a budget

- how to work around burnout/small ways to practice

- books you’d like to get

- favorite resources

Remember, at the end of the day, just put what resonates with you into your Grimoire because that’s all you’re going to need for your practice!

Here’s some examples of my previous grimoires!

Like what you see? Consider supporting me! ko-fi.com/thatdruidgal

[vodika-vibes]

can you do kix x reader where kix sees reader talking with keeli and gets jealous but reader is actually asking keeli about his twin kix?

Jaloux

Summary: Jealousy is not the best look for a man of his temperament, but when he catches the woman he’s been crushing on for months flirting with Keeli, there’s no stopping the burn of jealousy.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 1352

Warnings: Reader is described as having long hair, reader is described as getting a perm

A/N: This was fun to write! My sun lamp is working and I can focus a little better.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“I’m so glad to be back on Coruscant!” 

Kix tosses a grin towards the woman lounged, dramatically, on one of the beds in his medbay, “What’s wrong? You didn’t enjoy the swamp?”

She sits up and points at him, “I am far too young to enter my swamp witch phase.” She drops her hand, and pulls her hair out of the strict knot she normally keeps it in while she’s working, “Besides, that place was awful. I’ve never seen so many men get so sick from pollen before. I thought you all were immune to allergies.”

“So did I,” Kix replies with a laugh, “Guess the long necks didn’t cover everything.”

“Guess not.” She combs her fingers through her hair, and Kix can’t help but watch the way her hair tumbles around her shoulders. She might be the most stunning woman he’s ever met.

She should wear her hair down more often…but also, he’s glad she doesn’t. He’d never accomplish anything if she did.

“Anyway,” Kix shakes himself from his daydream (which involves her in his bunk, her hair spread like a halo around her head-) “What are your plans back on Coruscant? Bar hopping? Clubbing?”

She laughs, and Kix falls a little harder for her, “Do you really take me for the bar hopping type?”

He laughs softly, “No, not really. Especially since you shy away from Hardcases’...uh…chemical genius.”

“I’m fairly sure that what he brewed should be classified as a chemical weapon, rather than a drink. I can’t believe you drank it.” She folds her arms, “You deserved that hangover.”

“Yeah, but you’re a paragon of kindness and mercy and nursed us all back to health.” 

“You’re lucky that Rex begged me to help.”

“Rex was just as hungover as we were.” Kix points out.

“Ugh. I work with a bunch of children.”

Kix laughs again, “We’re not so bad.”

The look she shoots him is slightly exasperated, though it quickly morphs to a grin, “I suppose you could be worse.” She finally hops off the bed, and stretches her arms in front of her, “Are you all packed?”

“Are you? I keep most of my stuff here.”

She makes a face, “Oh yeah.” She pauses, “But I do have everything packed.” 

The familiar feeling of the Resolute settling in drydock rattles across the ship, and Kix smothers a quiet sigh. He’s going to miss seeing her everyday. Sure, he’ll still see her at the base, but it’s not the same. 

He likes eating breakfast with her. She isn’t able to function without a cup of caf, it’s hilarious. He also likes needling her about her breakfast habits.

As the ship comes to a stop, and the announcement comes over the intercom announcing that all of the civilian employees can disembark, she grins at him and grabs her bag from the floor, “I’ll see you in a few days?”

“Yeah, of course.” Kix wants to say more to her. He wants to confess, or to ask her out on a date, but the words seem to stick in his throat. So, instead, he offers her a small smile and an absent wave, as she leaves the medbay.

It’s only a few days. 

Maybe he’ll work up the nerve to ask her out the next time he sees her.

The next time Kix sees her, it’s a whole week later. 

He almost doesn’t recognize her when he sees her across the massive room. Her long hair has been cropped to her shoulders, and dyed a deep blue that is the same shade as the blue on his armor. And, as he moves closer, he sees that she has a new tattoo on her left shoulder. 

It looks like an array of flowers wrapped around the medic symbol.

It suits her.

He weaves through the throng of his brothers, there are several battalions here, so he’s able to get to her, though he slows when he sees her talking to Keeli.

He slows his walk and he just watches them interact.

She looks…delighted. Laughter written clearly on her face, leaning in so she’s able to hear him better, reaching out to lightly touch his forearm when he says something.

And Kix burns.

He’s never been the jealous type, at least he never has been in the past.

But watching this, Kix realizes that maybe he just never had reason to be properly jealous before.

He takes a deep breath and swallows his jealousy, before he continues walking over to the pair. 

“There you are,” Keeli folds his arms, “You’re late, vod’ika.”

“Come off it, we were decanted at the same time.” Kix counters, “And I wasn’t late, anyway. I was just on the other side of the room.”

“Hey Kix!” She grins at him, “Did you really dare one of your batchmates to jump into the ocean when you were a cadet?”

Kix blinks at her, and then turns an accusing glare on his twin, “Really?”

“Really.” Keeli agrees with a grin, “Anyway, my General is calling. See you later vod, Doc.”

Keeli saunters off, with Kix glaring at his back, and then he turns to look at her, “You shouldn’t believe anything he said about me as a cadet, he’s a horrible liar.”

She laughs, “I’d believe that if you weren’t blushing, Kix.” She brushes a blue curl off her cheek, and favors him with a grin, “It’s alright, everyone does dumb things as kids. It’s a side effect of being a kid, you know?”

Kix flashes a tiny smile, “Yeah? What did you do?”

She shrugs, “I tried to sell my brother for a handful of credits. And then mom found out and I was grounded for three years.”

That makes him laugh, “Well, I suppose I’m less embarrassed now.” He reaches out and tugs on one of her curls, “This is new.”

“Yeah, I wanted something new, so I got a perm and a dye.”

“And a new tattoo.”

“Yeah,” she pauses, “What do you think?” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she sounded a little self-conscious.

“Well, you look like you belong with the 501st now,” He teases, though then his smile softens, “I think you look great. But I always think you look great.” A blush rises on her cheeks, so Kix continues, “You make the rest of us look bad.”

“You’re exaggerating. You and your brothers are very handsome,”

It’s the first time Kix has ever heard her make a comment about his appearance, she normally sidesteps the question when someone asks, so he inches a little closer, “You think I’m handsome?” He asks with a grin.

“Are you going to make this a thing?”

“Am I more handsome than Keeli?”

She stares at him and then she sighs, “I know you better than I know Keeli, so yeah. Stop being jealous, it’s silly.”

“...I’m not jealous.”

“You are. It’s kind of cute, and totally ridiculous.” She stretches her arms over her head, and then, without looking at him, continues, “After all, everyone knows you’re my favorite.”

Unlike the way that he burned earlier, at the thought of Keeli flirting with her, now he just feels pleasantly warm. “That right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

He hesitates for a moment, and then bumps her gently, “You know, there’s a botanical garden not far from here, it’s home to the most poisonous flowers in the galaxy. You wanna go?”

“Kix, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, I am. If you want.”

A bright grin crosses her face, “It’s about time,” She finally turns to look at him, “Yes, please. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

The pair fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, and then Kix glances at her, “You know, you could have asked me on a date.”

“Jesse said that you would prefer a more…traditional relationship.” She shrugs, “I just trusted his word.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Kix grumbles and then her words fully register, “Wait, relationship?”

“Yeah, Kix. Relationship.”

“Huh.” He stares at the side of her head, “I can work with that.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[cauldronblssd]

We're Leaving the Planet, and You Can't Come

CH 1/6 | Read on AO3

Thank you once again to the best beta, @climbthemountain2020 and @witch-and-her-witcher.

Also thank you to @moonpatroclus for encouraging me to write this.

TW: dubious consent, non consent

Elain sighed in frustration as she glanced down at her exposed flesh. She’d just managed to extricate herself from the polymer casing of her safety gear. The perfectly regulated air of the station kissed against her skin, the velveteen flooring soft and plush against her feet. Her domed mask rested in its port. It had been the perfect night in, before she’d been interrupted by the melodic ring of her transmitter. It sounded throughout her small station, muted by the carpeting covering the walls. 

“Commander Graysen, this is an unexpected call. Allow me to dress myself before we continue.”

“No need for that, Archeron. This is a matter of state.”

Elain didn’t see what one had to do with the other, it was hardly adherent to the decorum of a state matter to appear before him nude, but she didn’t argue. Graysen demanded unquestioning compliance. While his methods were unorthodox, and at times unpleasant, she’d been urged by the others at her home gate to accept his quirks rather than put him in a poor mood. She plastered on a pleasant smile, forcing herself to pinch up her cheeks so that it would reach her eyes.

“Very well then, what’s the urgent matter?” Elain shuddered at the way his eyes roved over her body as she spoke, holding herself back from covering her breasts with her arms as she stood at attention.

She was beautiful to the males, she knew, who requested her more often than most when they copulated in the modern fashion. She didn’t know why it mattered, the whole thing lasted no more than a moment, hardly long enough for them to develop a preference. Still, she accepted amiably, forcing an enthusiastic smile onto her face, the same smile she took the exaltation transference pill with, and held out her palm to the man’s own, inevitably sweaty and unappealing.

“We received word from an informant that a male has left the station in aid of a leader that puts our Sun System in great danger.”

“Danger? But we haven’t had that in decades,” Elain exclaimed. All thoughts of Graysen and his unsettling gaze were gone, as she tried to imagine what kind of danger they might face and how she could possibly be involved in it. The Sun System had been at peace for longer than she’d been alive, the greatest crimes simply a waste of resources or a return to more primal habits that sometimes gripped those less astute in the teachings of the Nolans and their ilk.

Elain, under the tutelage of her sisters and, at times, her negligent but stern parents, had grown up in the New Ways. She adhered to all its principles, eschewing all primal pleasures and wants, for the restraint of an intellectual.

“He carried with him a weapon he’d developed, one harnessing the powers of old ash, that could cause great harm to humans and other creatures alike.”

To what creatures he referred, she could hardly imagine. She’d heard tales from Nesta of great creatures not like human men at all, ones who slithered along the swamps of other planets or flew like winged predators through the air, keen on capturing a human woman. Even still, the idea of violence was abhorrent, so wholly against her own principles as a woman of the New Way.

As her mind continued to whir and wander, Graysen continued, “We’d like you to travel to the planet Hybern to go find him. We believe he goes by the name ‘Vanserra.’” He said it with a sneer that curled up his lip, clearly unable to contain his disgust. “He serves the Great High Lord.”

“Whatever can I do about it?” She was hardly the most well-trained member of her team– that could only be credited to Nesta. Nor was she especially brave like Feyre.

“Use your charms, find Vanserra, and bring him back by any means necessary.”

Elain only nodded, unease raking through her. A solo mission would be a lonely one, and she wished she might bring her sister or a friend along with her. Instead, she redressed herself, donning a silver uniform that clung tightly to her curves and exposed the whole of her bare leg, before sliding a boot of the same color up to the curve of her thighs. It would do for the planet of Hybern, she’d been told. She lay down for sleep, cold glass encasing her body, pressing against her skin as she drifted off to sleep. The station would carry her to Hybern, and, if she was lucky, she’d be there by the time she woke.

*****

Elain should have known better. She’d never been lucky, that always fell to one of the happy, unbothered ladies that seemed to surround her. It had been why she’d placed herself on call, despite her sisters’ protestations that she’d be too sensitive for an outward mission. She longed for adventure – and now she had it. 

The station shook aggressively, rattling her bones and bumping her aggressively into the glass walls of her sleeping pod. The cacophonous sounds of the sputtering engine overwhelmed her, a smoky scent filling the air. Before she could brace herself for impact, the station crashed with a hard thud, throwing her off balance against the wall.

Steam hissed in the air as she crawled on her hands and knees. The large screen she used to communicate screeched with static. Blind in the smoky fog of the room, she touched the surfaces along the floor and walls. Elain grunted with relief when she found the door, scrambling for the latch to push it open. Something pushed against the door as she tried to open it, and she thrust her full body weight into it. At last, she stumbled out of the station, taking a deep breath and noting with relief that her oxygen mask would not be needed.

That was the only comfort this planet was likely to offer her, and she shivered as the hair raised on her arms. A cold, harsh wind cut through Elain’s already scant attire, raking against her bare skin. Her hair blew around her face, hitting her with surprising force. 

Elain’s heart stopped as she yanked the golden-brown strands away from her face to see in front of her. Ghostly children, in shimmering shades of white approached her. Perhaps it was a phantom of her imagination, a result of the harsh impact of her crash landing. She’d heard of monsters on other planets, beings that were not human at all, but something like it. She’d never heard tales of this, children both haunted and beautiful, approaching her en masse.

Elain staggered backwards, placing her hands against the increasingly cold metal of her station. It was a cheery pink, bright and garish against the cold white backdrop of this place. It had been foolhardy to trap herself against it like this, seeking the stability of the familiar. It went against every bit of training that she’d received in her time on the guard. Perhaps her sisters had been right, she should have remained on the care teams, relegated to easy daily tasks more suited to her anxious disposition. The children made no sound as they approached her, wafting on the air as if by magic. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, her whole-body shivering.

The children beckoned her as they surrounded her. There was nothing to do but follow, though she was loath to leave the comfort of her station behind. Her steps made an audible crunch against the cold rock underfoot, unlike the silent glide of the apparitions in front of her.

It was only when they arrived in a room inside a cave, with a rudimentary cell carved into the side of a mountainous rock that she began to question her decision. Her commanders had long informed her it was better to die in the moment than be captured. Awful scenarios began to circulate through her mind, each one featuring these unsettling ghostly children. 

They must have some kind of corporeal form, because, to her horror, one child, a small girl in pigtails, began to bind her wrists to the bars of the cell, tightly overhead. Her ankles were then restrained, holding her in place with little give to move about. She began to shout, screaming for help, from whom she didn’t know. Did anyone inhabit this planet, or had they died, leaving only these half-alive creatures behind?

Her heart pounded in her chest, fear constricting her breathing as she cried out. 

She scratched and clawed for something she could grab as a pack of white foxes entered the room. They circled and sniffed at her as she stood, unable to move. 

The sound of a thunderous bellow interrupted whatever horror had been about to occur. Standing in the entrance to the cave stood a man, or something like one. He was exceptionally tall and broad, filling the whole of the cave. Long, blood red hair curled and waved down his back, an ominous picture against the barren landscape. His lip lifted in a menacing snarl, claws protruding from his hands in a promise of what’s to come.

Elain gasped, her words gone from her as she watched him step forward, the children parting to make way. They scattered, leaving her alone in the cave with the foxes and the man in front of her. The animals too, seemed to heed his direction, falling into step behind him. 

Rich, brown skin spanned his muscular chest and arms. To bare so much of his body was an indecent exposure that would have him labeled a rebel in the Sun System. She turned her face away, as if the impropriety were the worst of the errors she might be reprimanded for when, if, she ever returned home.

One long claw touched her cheek, drawing a prick of blood, as he turned her face towards his own. It was inches from hers, and she could see the long, sharp fangs that he bared in a grimace. She pulled at the restraints on her wrists but there was no give to be found.  The man’s hot breath was warm against her face as he towered over her. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Even as he said the words, he traced his claw languidly down her cheek and the curve of her neck. She shivered, unsure of whether to meet his eyes or if that would only provoke him further.

“You saved my life,” she uttered in response. Stupid. She could hardly ingratiate herself to a half wild man like this. Still, she tried to recall her training, considering what negotiations she might have to offer. “What can I offer you in return? My home planet, the Sun System, would pay handsomely for my return.”

He hissed in response. “And what is your life worth, then? How much gold would they offer?”

Elain’s lips trembled as she weighed her true value. Perhaps the Nolans didn’t intend for her to return at all. The more she considered this mission, the more unusual it seemed that she’d been sent alone with not even enough notice to inform her sisters. Perhaps there was no need to banish her when they could just send her away, expecting her to never successfully return. Perhaps this Vanserra didn’t exist at all.

“Don’t worry, little pet. I don’t need any gold.” Despite the reassurance, she hardly felt comforted as he took several deep breaths, his chest rising and falling closer to her with each one. Elain twisted again in the ropes holding her wrists and ankles, feeling at once both nervous of the implications and something else she hadn’t experienced before.

The man watched her useless pulling, an amused expression on his, admittedly beautiful, face. An arching, prominent nose and full lips set off his angular features, with one eye of a bright russet brown and the other an usual shade of golden yellow. It only highlighted his otherworldly appearance, his strangeness, or rather, her strangeness in this place she didn’t belong.

Home. She needed to go home. Forget Vanserra and this stupid mission.

“I need to fix my station, to get home. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

He quirked his brow as he looked her up and down.

“And if what I need is your body?”

Elain felt her brows pinch together as she struggled to understand his question. If he meant to take her body, or some part of it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever make it home.

The man crouched, leaning in close to her ear and Elain couldn’t help but suck in a breath at his warm scent, like a crackling fire in the middle of this barren, snow filled planet. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll make it feel good.”

That didn’t comfort her, at all. She still didn’t truly know what he meant and worse, she was beginning to suspect it was of a prurient nature – something that surely would get her banished on her home planet if she wasn’t already. Perhaps they sensed the same thing in her this man seemed to, the same reason she was called back over and over for transference.

“Copulation, you mean?” She said it in as neutral a tone as she could maintain, trying to hide her uncertainty at the idea. It was nothing, and yet, with this man...

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” That amused grin was on his face again, baring his too sharp teeth. She looked down, nervous. And oh. She’d never seen a naked man before - it was hardly necessary for the act performed in the safety of the Sun System health centers. Could they all be as large as this? Or perhaps it was due to his otherwise large stature. 

The man chuckled, lifting her chin to bring her gaze back up to his eyes.

“You’ll have to untie my hands,” she offered, her will to fight this leaving her.

“Oh?” His smile turned into something else then, pulling at the left corner, highlighting that unusual eye. “You look rather pretty like this.” 

He pushed his hand against her own restrained one as if to show his meaning. His fingers interlaced with hers. Her heart thundered in her chest. He couldn’t mean to...

One long claw pulled at the front of her clothes, ripping the silver material away from her body in one swift gesture. Cold air rushed against her, her nipples hardening and a shiver running down her body.

“I didn’t bring the transference pill,” she continued. “I wasn’t expecting to...”

“Do the human men on your home planet need a pill to fuck you, love? You’re wasted on them, then.” He brought his mouth closer to her, her pulse quickening at the sight of his sharp fangs. He brought his mouth there, to where her heart fluttered in her neck, his tongue swirling around the spot. Something began to throb between her legs.

“I can smell you, sweet thing. I want to taste you, too.” 

He sucked at the crook where her neck joined her shoulder and a gasping moan escaped her. What was happening to her? It felt too good, nothing like transference at all. 

She’d heard talk of the old ways, of humans driven mad by lust, behaving no better than animals. It was all talk now, tales passed down through whispers. To even speak of it was strictly forbidden by the Nolans and the commanding officers of the Sun System. It was punishable by banishment, a sentence as sure as death.

Even knowing this, Elain leaned her head to the side, giving this man access. “What’s your name?”

He chuckled, sucking on her earlobe before speaking with the low growl of his voice. “Lucien. Call me Lucien, pretty human.” He dipped his fingers into her mouth, and she accepted it, sucking on them without knowing where the instinct came from.

“Lucien,” she repeated, as he removed his fingers from her mouth, a line of spit trailing in between them. Her cheeks flushed warm as she watched it. 

“And you? What shall I call you?” 

A more rational part of Elain whispered that she shouldn’t give him her name. Names had power. And still she couldn’t deny him anything, something pulling in her ribs, urging her to give herself over to him.

“Elain,” she said as she looked up at him, feeling desperate to move, to relieve the ache between her legs.

“Elain,” he repeated, smiling as he said it. He moved her hair off her face, a sudden tenderness to the gesture. She liked the way he said her name, a slight lilt to the word that made it sound different, more beautiful than plain.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe they sent you here all alone.” He rolled his hands up and down her sides in an exploratory fashion, as if letting her adjust to the idea of him touching her. 

Lucien brought one hand to her breast, cupping her gently in his large palm before rolling her hardened nipple between his fingers. She didn’t know. Didn’t know she could feel so sensitive, that a singular touch could feel like this. She whimpered in response. Was this a spell, some sort of magic cast by this alien creature? She wasn’t sure she cared. Her body chanted for more, more, more. The ache between her legs turning into a pulsating throb with every touch and tweak.

“These humans have been neglecting you,” he growled with a possessive squeeze of her throat. She’d have hardly called it that, didn’t like to think of the ways she avoided their unwelcome attentions. Here she was, tied up, unable to get away from Lucien’s invasive mouth that seemed equally inclined to talk as to taste, and yet she didn’t feel used at all, she felt wanted, worshiped. She arched her back, leaning further into him, the only movement the restraints allowed her.

He offered her another rueful smile as he squeezed at her throat the same moment his mouth connected with her breast. The swirling movements of his tongue against her, wet and warm, had her ready to beg for more. She’d die if he stopped.

He pulled his fingers away from her throat, placing them back in her mouth. “Quiet, Elain.” He said it in an admonishing tone, as if she should have known to be quiet, when he’d been growling and roaring for anyone to hear. It set off another alarm bell, one she chose to ignore in favor of the way he’d moved his mouth down her body, now kneeling in front of her.

Lucien ran a hand against her thighs, and she gasped, surprised to find them wet where he touched. Was this part of the magic, too? He dipped a finger against it before placing it into his own mouth. He let out another growl, not at all quiet, she thought.

She should feel debased, it was all wrong, or at least that’s what she’d been taught. She tried to shut her mind off from the pleasure, but then his tongue began to lap at the wetness between her legs, and she bowed and pulled against her restraints. It was too much, electrifying and overwhelming all at once and she wanted to close her legs against his onslaught. 

He didn’t slow, but he ran a soothing hand up and down her hip as he continued, licking and sucking and all but panting against her. Occasionally, he’d turn those sharp fangs to nibble at her thighs, offering her another sensation to focus on before he continued whatever slow build had started in her gut.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she rubbed wantonly against his face.

“God, I could die like this,��� he murmured. Elain gasped, feeling panicked, and he chuckled in response. “Don’t worry, my pretty human, I won’t. At least not until I get my cock in this tight cunt of yours.”

He squeezed himself to indicate his meaning, and Elain felt another panic rise in her chest. She wasn’t sure where he would put that. It was long, wrapped in veins that seemed to dance against his skin as he moved his hand against them. Glistening fluid, much like her own, dripped from the tip, trailing down his cock and onto his hand.

“I can’t wait to see this pretty cunt stretch over my cock, sweet thing. You want me to come inside you, breed you full and keep you here as my pretty mate?”

She didn’t know what he meant, truly, but the way he said the words, the way his fist clenched around himself as he said them, gave her an idea. Mate. She liked the sound of that word, whimpering and whining in response.

He trailed his fingers between her legs, dipping one of his clawed fingers into her wet entrance before dragging the finger backwards. “You like that don’t you, want me to make you feel nice and full?” He traced his finger around it, and she froze, despite the aching throb that said yes.

He sucked on the sensitive point between her legs with increased fervor, running his tongue along her in a soft motion, soothing away the intensity.

Her whole body felt hot, like she was burning from the inside out. She didn’t want it to stop, and yet she didn’t know what would happen if they kept going.

“Lucien,” she started to warn him.

He squeezed her thighs possessively, moaning into her. “That’s it, Elain.” And he nibbled at her clit before laving at it with his wet tongue and her whole body began to shake with violent tremors. She’d never felt like this in her life, something strong and electric pushing with delicious pleasure through her whole body. Whatever had been building was overtaking her now, and it was all she could manage not to scream. Pleasure suffused her body like a golden light on this cold planet, bright and burning like the sun. She felt alive in a way she never had in all her life. Elain couldn’t move, suspended in that upright position as Lucien continued to lap at her until it ached. 

When she began to move her body away from him, he stood, towering over her once more, before thrusting his tongue against her mouth. She opened wide for him as he tilted her jaw up toward him, finding it unnatural to taste herself and yet not seeming to mind. 

Lucien grabbed at the ropes on her wrists, biting at them with his teeth and they came loose. She rubbed at the tender skin as he performed a similar motion at her ankles. Elain sagged against him, his large body holding up her own with ease. He held her for a moment, running soothing touches along her hair and back.

“We’re not done yet, my little mate.” She nestled further into him, humming in contentment. He lay her down against his jacket on the floor, his hand nestled under her head. Her whole body felt heavy, woozy and spent with pleasure.

It was Lucien’s finger again at her entrance that reawakened her, as he ran it along the wetness still pooling and dripping between her legs.

He moaned at whatever he found, running back and forth with his knuckles against her. “God, Elain, you’re so...” His words trailed off as he placed kisses along her thighs. “This might hurt at first.” 

She couldn’t imagine it doing anything but hurt, if he planned to push himself inside her. Still, the ecstacy of what she had experienced a moment ago left her mind hazy, everything touched by the velvet softness of pleasure that still ran through her.

“Tell me you can take it,” he pleaded with an urgency to his voice as he pressed himself, warm and unyielding, against her entrance. 

She considered telling him no, only so she could hear him desperate again as he begged her, as if he hadn’t just put his mouth all over her while she was tied to the wall.

His large body shook as he held it over her and she lifted her hips in invitation. She was already ruined, already destined to be banished to empty space, she might as well commit. Still, she flinched as he pushed the first inch inside of her, a sharp pain causing her to tense. He reached between them, touching her and rubbing in maddening circles as he continued to push. It felt like an invasion of her body, she was too full, he was too large, a giant by any human standards. And yet her body ceded the space. She could feel herself dripping against him, the glide of her wetness easing his way in deeper. When he pressed himself fully against her with a final snap of his hips, they both moaned.

This is what the humans had all but banned, what they feared. She ground her hips against him, experimentally. Yes, she could see why, she felt a bit mad already, the pain and pleasure pushing her closer to that edge again.

With a tender kiss that had no place in this coupling on the floor of a cave, Lucien began to move, still cupping her head as he thrust with more force. Each push awakened something in her. She felt alive, everything clicking into place with the pleasure of this moment. She felt powerful as she began to push back against him, matching his rhythm and drawing more growling sounds from him. 

“Yes, Lucien,” she chanted, holding onto his broad shoulders. 

She could feel the muscles moving with each shift of his body, everything working with all of his powerful control to give her this. She remembered she was meant to be repaying him for saving her life, but it didn’t feel like that at all. Elain kissed his cheeks and neck and anything she could reach as she moved with more urgency, wanting to please him, to hold up her end of a bargain. Her body was what he asked for, and she’d given over every inch of space, full with nothing but this man, a stranger to her in every way but this one.

He murmured her name in her ear over and over as he moved, as if learning and memorizing it for later. She hummed, repeating his own back to him. Yes, this was all they were in this moment, Lucien and Elain, two bodies met by chance on this barren planet. When pleasure began to crest in her again, he knew, covering her mouth with his own in a frantic wet kiss as they reached their peak together, all sweat and skin and one steady heartbeat.

Lucien continued to pant, licking and biting at her neck and shoulders and breasts as they both came back to their senses. She ran her hands through the long red locks of his hair, enjoying the way they slipped between her fingers. As the planet turned away from the sun, it had gotten darker, lit by a vast sea of stars against the inky black sky outside the cave.

Lucien moved off of her, resting his head on his elbow to look at her as he lay on his side. “Was that what you expected, little mate?” 

Elain huffed, frustrated suddenly at this male who felt all too proud of himself. “Not quite all they chalked it up to be when they talk of it at home.” She sighed for effect. “But I suppose these things are always exaggerated in fiction.”

He didn’t seem deterred, perhaps knowing that her body had already told him quite a different tale. Even now, she couldn’t keep herself from touching him in some way, her knee brushing against his thigh and her cheek leaning against his arm.

“I’ll do my best to surprise you when you come back to visit me, then.” He bit her neck as he said it, drawing another gasp from her.

“I’m going home,” she reminded him with a frown. It didn’t sound as appealing as it had before.

Lucien scowled then, wrapping the blanket around her as he scooped her up, cradling her in his arms. 

“Let’s get you back to my station, I’ll work on repairs.”

Lucien walked with broad strides throughout the planet, cradling her tenderly in his arms, though something had tensed in his body. He dipped his head as he stepped through another cave, this one furnished more like a home, with soft lights and furs covering various surfaces. He laid her down on a pillow pile, wrapping her up before stepping back out into the bluster, the incoherent chatter of foxes following behind him. 

Elain drifted into an easy sleep, despite her dire circumstances, humming with content.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Nine: Landscapes Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.2k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, nosey birds, Moland is a lot of fun to write about, (sorta) theft, home sickness, magic, very tame A/N: Don't know how I feel about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write. I think you'll understand why in a moment. Thanks for reading!

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Namjoon pov

I stood in the cramped boat house, the scent of Bridd lingering faintly but unmistakably fresh. It was a small concession I could offer Jimin, a flicker of hope in a sea of frustration. Hoseok had instructed me to search outside and follow the trail, a task I’d already performed yesterday. Jimin, in his usual manner, insisted on a double-check. Today’s search yielded better results; I could discern the subtle shifts in the scent. Bridd had stood exactly where I was standing no more than forty-eight hours ago.

“She’s long gone,” Hoseok’s voice echoed clearly in my mind, despite the distance between us—five miles at least. “Wonder where she went.”

“Taehyung mentioned Viridi Gramine,” Hyuna interjected, her focus sharp and unyielding as she scanned for any trace of Bridd. “Do you think she might be headed that way?”

“Doubt it,” I said, tracing the scent from a small cot on the floor to a rusty fridge. “I don’t think she was ever planning to visit our cousins.”

Hyuna mulled over this, while Hoseok wrestled with guilt. We had all chided him for it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he had been able to speak to Bridd and Jimin, none of this would have happened. Apologizing for his perceived failure, the younger wolf returned to pondering Bridd’s whereabouts.

“Not far,” Hyuna mused thoughtfully.

“She could be out of Moland by now,” I said, my tone edged with concern. “I have no clue which direction she might have taken. She could be lost out there.”

The thought unsettled us all. Hoseok, knowing Bridd’s limited experience with the outside world, worried about her lack of navigational skills. Without a map, she was likely adrift. Hyuna, however, believed in Bridd’s survival instincts. If she had to fight, she could, and her shifting abilities would serve her well. Most likely, she had flown over the swamps and into Clarcton—an efficient and practical choice.

“That makes the most sense,” Hoseok agreed, his mental voice tinged with resignation.

Following her scent outside, it abruptly stopped at the small deck adjacent to the house. She must have shifted from there. We had hit a dead end. Hoseok let out a frustrated huff, while Hyuna attempted to calm him. I could now catch my sister’s thoughts, fraught with anxiety and worry. Yeong-Mi had always been prone to migraines and panic attacks; her stress was palpable.

“Shut up,” she snapped at me, her irritation clear but tinged with underlying stress. “He’s right, oppa,” she addressed Hoseok. “You can’t blame yourself. We all know who’s really to blame for this.”

Sol’s face flickered in her mind—distorted and unfamiliar. Yeong-Mi’s memory of Sol was tainted, a far cry from reality. She had no intention of facing the Luna again anytime soon, a sentiment Hyuna echoed with a delighted giggle. Hoseok mumbled something about Sol only trying to help, but none of us paid it much mind.

“Sol can’t bear all the responsibility,” I gently rebuked my sister. “Bridd still made the choice to run off.”

“If she had just minded her own business,” Mini barked, her frustration boiling over, “Bridd wouldn’t have fled! God, how could she say that to Jimin Oppa when we all know how stressed he’s been?”

“An idiot,” Hyuna snapped back, her anger flaring once more. “Between Bo, his brother, and the copiae, the guy hasn’t had a moment’s peace.”

I had tried to remain neutral but found myself agreeing with Hyuna. Sol had overstepped her bounds. Taehyung’s reaction to her misjudgment offered some solace. The boy had yet to touch his mate since Jimin’s frantic panic the night he discovered Bridd’s empty bed. Rumors of their constant arguing since her disappearance were spreading through Bangtan.

“Eun-Jin mentioned that Jimin said Bridd was heading to the Ozryn mountains alone,” my sister added. “I haven’t been around him since she left, so I don’t know the full story, but he’s devastated.”

Hoseok growled at Jimin’s name. Mini defended her favorite alpha while I reminded him of the bigger picture. Sol’s misleading information had set off a chain reaction. Jimin’s reaction, driven by incomplete information, had resulted in his current turmoil. Hoseok vehemently disagreed until Hyuna asked him how he would have reacted if he had believed she was going off to harm herself after recovering from an injury.

“She’s alone out there,” Hoseok grunted, his resolve wavering in the face of his wife’s reasoning. “He should have never let that happen.”

“It’s not his fault,” Jong-Hyun, Jungkook’s older brother, chimed in, having returned from his eastward search. “They’re both stubborn, and I doubt Bridd would have allowed him to come along. Ji-Hyun mentioned they had an argument the afternoon she left. He feels partly responsible for what’s happened.”

I growled, “That boy’s attitude is going to get him hurt. Is that why Callisto’s been even more irate than usual?”

Mini laughed, “I think that’s just how she is around you.”

We shared a laugh, the tension briefly easing. Hyuna and Hoseok had found each other, and my sister was their next stop. She was almost to Syrena, and the couple wanted to go for a swim. We declined their offer—I had no desire to be a magindara’s next meal. Yeong-Mi chose to wait with us, keeping an eye out for any elves.

I drowned out the cacophony of voices, focusing instead on the faint, elusive trail I was following. The swamps were vast and treacherous, a labyrinth where finding Bridd seemed almost impossible. Fear gnawed at me. I hoped to God she was out there, safe and vigilant, though I knew she wasn't invincible.

I sat by the murky water, staring into its depths as if it might offer some answer, until Hyuna’s voice broke through. Taehyung was looking for me. My father was worried about a group of elves spotted in the northwestern corner of Moland and needed me out of the forest. Jimin, stubborn as ever, refused to come home. Taehyung needed my help to strategize. Hyuna had looped back to meet me near Bridd’s now-destroyed cottage.

“We’re leaving him out here alone?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice.

“Of course not,” Hyuna replied, her small red form bristling slightly. “Jong-Hyun and Hoseok are keeping an eye on him. He’s deep in the forest somewhere.”

She was disappointed about their postponed beach trip but chose not to dwell on it. I tried to offer some comfort, imagining them swimming and laughing together another day, but she waved it off. She was grateful, but the thought of discussing it further would only trouble Hoseok.

“And he hasn’t found anything?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Hyuna confirmed.

As I stepped into Bridd’s clearing, the sight of the wildflowers struck me. Her garden was a riot of colors, an oasis of beauty amidst the desolation. Her cottage, surrounded by a lush garden of vegetables, fruits, and herbs, seemed almost surreal. A porcelain birdbath stood at the front, perpetually full, as though enchanted. The perfect, curated meadow seemed a divine attempt to keep Bridd from sinking into despair. Hyuna lay in the grass near the ruined house, her face etched with sadness. Taehyung had said an elf caused the damage. Bridd’s scent still clung to the remnants of her home, but it was fading.

“I wanted to go inside,” Hyuna said, her gaze fixed on the gaping hole in the cottage’s front. Her sadness was palpable. “But I don’t think Jimin would appreciate it. This is the only place that still smells like her.”

“He’s been here,” I said, noting the strong, fresh scent of Jimin. “Is he sleeping in there?”

She nodded. “I think he’s trying to fix things up. Jungkook mentioned it to Cadoc. Jimin’s obsessed with getting everything right before she comes home.”

We exchanged a look. Neither of us held out much hope that our little bird would return soon. I had more faith in Bridd’s survival skills than Hyuna did, but neither of us knew when—or if—she would come back.

Hyuna recalled her trips to Bangtan when she lived in Viridi Gramine. The Ozryn mountains were harsh, unforgiving, and lethal. Despite her royal lineage and traveling with the most skilled guides, there was always a risk she might not return. After finding Hoseok, the thought of crossing those mountains had never crossed her mind until her mother fell ill.

I had never traversed the Ozryn myself, but Hyuna’s memories sent a chill through me. Bridd might very well perish out there, and no one could prevent it. I considered suggesting that Jimin and I abandon Foxglove to search for her, but a single glance from Hyuna wiped the thought clean. We couldn’t leave the village without more information.

Bridd’s death would shatter Jimin, and Taehyung and Sol’s marriage—already strained—would likely fall apart completely. The Park family would never be the same. I desperately hoped she would return to her senses, but deep down, I knew she wouldn’t. The fierce determination in her eyes when I visited her cottage after Sol’s birthday spoke volumes. Bridd had more fire in her than Hyuna realized.

“She’s never seen so much of the world before,” Hyuna whispered, her voice as if confessing a forbidden truth. “How can she know where to go if she doesn’t even know what to look for?”

“She has maps—”

“Maps that predate the industrial revolution,” Hyuna cut me off sharply. “That girl is lost, and you know it.”

I didn’t need to say more; we were in agreement. I reminded her of Bridd’s tenacity when threatened, recounting our fight outside the cottage. Hyuna chuckled, acknowledging Bridd’s fighting spirit but still worried. When Bridd was in the infirmary, the witches had mentioned her fainting spells. How could we be sure she wouldn’t collapse out there?

“We don’t,” I admitted. “We just have to have faith. For Jimin’s sake. For her friends’ sake.”

“And Bridd’s,” Hyuna added.

“And Bridd’s,” I agreed.

A distant howl pierced the forest, signaling it was time to move. Taehyung rarely shifted anymore, so it had to be urgent. Hyuna decided to accompany me and wait for her husband at the Temple, her thoughts wandering to the prospect of confronting Sol, though I chose to ignore it.

As we neared the village, I heard the voices of the other copiae joining the search. Ji-Hyun’s loud complaints about his sister-in-law’s dramatics stood out. Hyuna fought to suppress a snarl, her thoughts simmering with anger. The younger wolf quickly dropped the subject, but my distaste for him remained. Taehyung shared my sentiments and told the Park boy to head home for the day. Ji-Hyun managed to keep his thoughts to himself long enough to change, severing our connection.

“Irrumator,” Hyuna grunted, her thoughts shifting from Ji-Hyun to Sol.

I chuckled. “He’s young. Cut him some slack.”

“He’s older than Taehyung!” Hyuna snapped. “He should know better. What he said to Bridd was out of line. How can you defend him?”

I bowed my head, conceding. I respected Hyuna enough to avoid an argument, especially with the looming threat of war. Disagreements with her would mean disagreements with Hoseok, and that was something we couldn’t afford right now.

“It’s not defending him,” I said, trying to keep annoyance out of my voice. “I just think this is a time for unity. Arguing over something we can’t change is pointless.”

Hyuna huffed but let it go. I felt a small victory in that, knowing we needed to focus on more pressing matters. Taehyung’s thoughts reflected his inner turmoil. While he agreed on the need for unity against our shared threat, he was hurt and betrayed by his closest friend’s disappearance.

Sol stirred complex emotions within me. My yearning to lead had once blinded me to her true nature. When Taehyung was chosen over me, I was disappointed, but any lingering romantic feelings vanished. I was genuinely happy for him, even if my actions didn’t always reflect it.

Sol had always been obsessed with Jimin, her infatuation apparent in her teenage ramblings. Ahn had asked me to escort her while she shifted, and her incessant daydreams about Jimin were the last thing I wanted to hear. I found myself wanting to be at her side, to lead, and her thoughts of me were less than flattering.

Sol’s heartbreak over Jimin’s lack of interest was palpable. She had desperately sought his affection, willing to overlook her mates. Jimin, though kind and cordial, had rejected her advances. I understood now, and it made sense. He was deeply devoted to another.

Sol’s life took a nosedive into chaos the moment she found herself wrapped in Taehyung’s arms. At first, confusion and disbelief painted her world in shades of gray, but soon, that confusion melted into something pure, almost ethereal. It was as if she had been in love with him all along, as if it was written in the very fabric of her being. For Taehyung, the feeling was a mirror image of hers. Before Sol, his heart had been tethered to a local girl named Minji. But love, it seems, has a way of changing the script.

Still, Sol’s obsession with Jimin was almost automatic, a reflex she couldn’t control. They were closer in age than most of us (except Taehyung), though Jimin was still seven years her senior. He was always kind and thoughtful, qualities that drew her in like a moth to a flame. When she heard he might be in danger, she rushed to his side. What she told him, which I knew only because Jimin couldn’t stop replaying that night in his head, was meant to soothe him. Yet, she shoved her friendship with Bridd aside, put her trust with Taehyung on the chopping block, and risked straining her bond with Jimin himself—all to protect his fragile heart. It would have been admirable if she’d taken a moment to think, rather than barreling into his house like a bat out of hell, spewing melodramatic, and frankly, distorted versions of the truth.

The fallout was catastrophic. Jimin’s argument with Bridd was fueled by Sol’s words. The man was already on edge. His pack of fifteen had dwindled to seven, the newer recruits too green to be of much use. Stress and frustration boiled over the moment Sol’s dramatic tale hit his ears. She painted Bridd as a suicide-bound lunatic, claiming the witch was deceiving everyone about her intentions, determined to atone for her past sins. It was absurd, though not entirely untrue, but it came from a teenage girl who hadn’t truly listened. To Jimin, all he could hear was his mate marching to her death to atone for her silence.

The whole situation with Bridd was surreal. I was irritated by her reluctance to share her visions, but that frustration faded when I realized the depth of her fear and helplessness. We weren’t on good terms. Foxglove had distanced itself, and Ahn had been vocal about his plans to visit her cottage. I couldn’t blame her for hesitating to speak up when the threat was uncertain. Ahn might have had her killed.

“He would have been a fool,” Hyuna mumbled, breaking the silence.

“When wasn’t he?” I shot back, my tone dry.

Everyone shared my sentiment. Bridd was the last person to blame. Her actions, once she understood the gravity of the situation, revealed her true care. Cadoc’s account of waking up to find the little witch, broken and bloodied, but still determined to reach Foxglove, was enough to reduce even the toughest to tears. The second her eyes opened, all she could think about was getting back to Foxglove. Any lingering doubts about her intentions evaporated. Only a few, Ji-Hyun among them, remained wary, but they were making an effort for the pack’s sake.

At the village’s edge, I parted ways with Hyuna. She gave me a brief farewell before I shifted. I was more private than the others, especially Hoseok and Hyuna, and they were accustomed to giving me space during the shift. It was my most vulnerable moment, and I loathed feeling exposed.

Bangtan had various items of clothing stashed away, none of them tailored or particularly stylish, but they were functional. My mother was responsible for keeping the copiae clothed and cared for, a job she took very seriously. It was one of the few things my father felt proud of. He often demeaned her, telling her she needed to do better, be better, spouting the same old demeaning slogans the older men in town were fond of. I could never see the faults in any of the women, especially not my mother, but she never commented on it, and neither did I.

I found a pair of large, baggy pants and shifted. After putting on the cotton garments, I decided to forgo a shirt and made my way to the Temple. Taehyung was waiting for me, and I didn’t want to add to his burdens. I felt I had done enough of that already.

As I walked through the town, I saw Jimin’s mother, Mi-Jeong, helping Jungkook’s father chop wood for his roof. The Parks were an unusual family. Mi-Jeong was outspoken, fierce, and refused to bow to men’s expectations. Her stubbornness was rivaled only by her youngest child. My own family often criticized her ‘atrocious’ behavior, but I had always been fond of Mi-Jeong.

Ji-Hyun, on the other hand, was a quiet boy, favoring his mother with his sharp features and moss-brown eyes. He followed his brother around for years without complaint. That quietude lingered into his teenage years, but when he fell for a human girl, it sparked a fierce possessiveness. He fought for her, both verbally and physically, a devotion that changed him. His attitude was often defensive and quick to judge, but his love and loyalty for his family were unparalleled, even surpassing his older brother.

Jimin had always fascinated me. From the moment he was born, he had the village at his feet. His father had been a formidable figure, embodying the strength our people revered. His choice of bride was unusual, but everyone believed Ji-Won was up to the challenge of handling Mi-Jeong. Jimin, like his father, possessed all the traits of a Park: charm, wit, courage. What set him apart was the hidden sweetness he kept from the world. I saw it. I had always seen it.

The first glimpse I got of that sweetness was when he chased butterflies in his backyard. He was no older than four, but even at that age, boys were expected to show maturity. In public, Jimin was the epitome of a perfect child. Yet, watching him blow bubbles and giggle as he chased a monarch butterfly, I knew his public persona was an act.

Now, that same sweetness was on display once more, though in a far more public and painful manner. Jimin had shut himself off, avoiding conversations and shunning his closest friends, hiding away and waiting for the other piece of his heart to return. It was a strange sight: Park Jimin, usually so strong, now weak and in agony.

As Mi-Jeong’s eyes met mine, I saw the same sadness and worry reflected in her. I hoped her family would pull together, but I doubted it would happen until Bridd returned, if she ever did. The thought of the Park family’s fate if she didn’t come back sent a shiver down my spine. 

I didn’t stop to talk to anyone, as I usually did. My mind was too scattered, and frankly, I was done with conversation. A constant stream of thoughts and voices in your head will do that. Fortunately, no one seemed put off by my silence. We were all grappling with uncertainty since losing one of our strongest fighters.

“Anything new, dog?”

The voice slithered through the air, smooth and grating, a rasp that scraped against my nerves. I clenched my teeth, trying to ignore the familiar sting. With a deep, slow breath, I turned to face the source of my irritation.

Seokjin was there, of course. He had become my personal Dante’s Inferno over the past few days. The man had a grudge that could outlast a vampire’s curse, and he still hadn’t forgiven me for taking a swing at his friend. His face was a storm cloud, eyes dark with disdain. Beside him, Yoongi was a ghost of his former self. He looked worse than ever—thin and ragged, like a paper doll battered by the wind. His hair was a disheveled mess, and his once vibrant blue eyes had dulled further, his pupil barely visible.

“Unfortunately not,” I said, keeping my voice even, though I wanted nothing more than to escape this confrontation. “A few are still out searching, but I was pulled away.”

“Hmft,” Seokjin crossed his arms, a gesture that seemed to tighten the knot of irritation on his face. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped, irritation bubbling up.

I never did like much about him.

“You don’t give a damn if you find her or not,” Seokjin’s voice was thick with anger, each word dripping venom. “None of you do.”

My patience was fraying, “That’s not true—”

“It’s that bitch’s fault she’s gone,” Seokjin shouted over me, his voice cracking like a whip.

“Stop yelling,” I said, struggling to keep my composure. The scene we were causing was spiraling out of control. My father would lose his mind. “I know what Sol did. None of us are happy about it, but I’m not a god. I can’t rewind time or bring her back. What’s done is done.”

“Yet you still follow her orders like some lapdog.”

“I follow Taehyung,” I corrected, my voice tight with restrained frustration. “By extension, that means I follow his wife. We’re at war, Seokjin. I’m sorry about Bridd, truly, and I hope she’s safe, but my life doesn’t revolve around her. I have a village to protect, a village she isn’t in. I won’t abandon it to chase shadows.”

Seokjin’s face was a furnace of rage now, tears brimming in his eyes. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. Bridd was a close friend of his, and she had abandoned them—harsh words, but accurate in the rawest sense. The others had voiced their disgust when she vanished, their anger directed at our governing bodies. Sol had barred them from the Temple after one of Seokjin’s entourage had lashed out. Since that night, they’d remained cloaked in silence, not a whisper of their departure from the Park house.

“You’re going to let her die,” Seokjin’s accusation was a punch to the gut, raw and brutal.

Yes, if it meant saving my own. Bridd was a distant concern compared to the stakes at hand. I barely knew her; respect didn’t equate to prioritizing her over my sister. In this high-stakes game, I had to trust that she could handle herself and accept it.

“Jin,” Yoongi’s voice cut through the tension, soft yet firm. I had almost forgotten he was there. “Let it be. Namjoon has done what he can. Let’s return to Mi-Jeong’s.”

I was relieved that Yoongi seemed more composed than Seokjin. I sneaked a glance at him and was glad to see his hair growing back, a sign he was getting enough to eat. It was a small comfort, considering the grim reality of his condition. Yoongi’s blindness wasn’t just a loss; it was a nightmare. I remembered how his pain had been described—a brutal assault on his senses, panic attacks ripping through him like storm winds. Samanya had said the spell should have killed him, and his survival, with only his eyesight lost, was a cruel twist of fate.

“But—”

“Drop it,” Yoongi said, his voice a low rumble, stopping Seokjin before he could unleash another tirade. Without turning his head, he addressed me. “I apologize for his callousness. We’re all on edge. I hope you understand.”

This was the most I’d heard Yoongi speak, even during our time at Bridd’s cottage in the Spring. “It’s not an issue. I hope you’re feeling better.”

It was unnerving to talk to someone who couldn’t meet my gaze. Yoongi’s eyes, unseeing and vacant, stared blankly at the village’s edge. His voice was gruff and monotonous, a strange contrast to the depth of the situation.

“I am fine,” he replied. “We’re here because my mother wanted to know how far you believe she could have gone. I’ll tell her that she must have shifted and lost her scent.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved by his ability to keep Seokjin quiet. “She was on a houseboat for a few hours before she left. Any ideas?”

“Thelma,” Seokjin grunted. “She must have rested and then taken off. Was anything missing?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Sorry.”

Seokjin shook his head angrily, a futile gesture.

“No need to apologize,” Yoongi said, raising a hand in a dismissive motion. It was unclear what he intended, but I chose not to dwell on it. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

Seokjin opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. I smirked, feeling a bit of triumph. Yoongi’s presence was a useful deterrent for the annoying one. Scowling, Seokjin wrapped an arm around Yoongi and turned towards the residential district, their figures fading into the distance.

Taehyung was pacing when I finally found him in the Temple library. Books were strewn across the tables like fallen soldiers, pages ripped from their bindings stacked haphazardly at the edge of a massive oak table that had seen better days. His blonde hair was a shaggy mess, the back grazing his neck while the front hung just past his ears. Thick, wavy bangs spilled over his eyebrows, so long they were kept at bay by a headband.

The sight of him worried me. Taehyung was unraveling, a fraying thread in a tapestry of stress. He managed to keep it together during the elder meetings, putting on a brave face to avoid giving Ahn any satisfaction. But anyone could see the cracks beginning to show. Jimin was doing his best to keep Taehyung from falling apart, but he had his own demons to battle.

I had taken it upon myself to pick up the slack where Taehyung faltered. I owed it to both him and Jimin after my role in their exile. Taehyung, ever the forgiving soul, was more generous with grace than Jimin. But I knew I was skating on thin ice. Others might have taken my head for the disrespect I’d shown. Jimin might have if he wasn’t so focused on keeping the peace with his mate.

I needed to focus on the task at hand. Taehyung had summoned me for a reason, and I had to be there for him. His pacing showed no signs of stopping as I entered, a bad omen for the kind of conversation I was about to have. He seemed to find a semblance of calm when we discussed strategy, a fleeting solace in the chaos.

“Sorry for the delay, Tae,” I said, my voice soft and steady, hoping to cut through his distress.

He paused, his eyes bloodshot and glossy, cheeks flushed like someone had poured a pot of boiling water on them. His lower lip quivered despite his best efforts to steady it. Taehyung’s emotional rawness was always a puzzle. He was kind, gentle, a giant child who laughed at his own clumsiness and played with his younger siblings as if he were still a child himself.

He never shied away from tears. When Jimin’s father died, neither he nor Ji-Hyun shed a tear in public, though I knew better than to believe they didn’t grieve privately. Their show of stoicism was celebrated, a mask of bravery they wore for the town. Taehyung struggled to wear that mask as seamlessly as Jimin had.

Taehyung’s father hadn’t died in a blaze of glory. No heroics, just illness. Ahn had called him weak for succumbing to an infected wound, a sentiment not widely shared but unchallenged. My own mother, a loyalist to Ahn, had called him cruel for further tormenting a grieving family.

“I didn’t realize it had been so long,” Taehyung mumbled, resuming his restless pacing.

In that moment, he looked more like his father than ever. Dong-Min had been respected and wise, but he wasn’t the sort to attract crowds. An artist from Viridi Gramine, his works were beautiful, but he remained in the shadows. He’d found his muse in Hana, who had come from an abusive home. They had fled Withertusk together, and their troubles had melted away in Foxglove.

“You’re upset,” I said bluntly. Taehyung preferred directness. “What’s wrong?”

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice cracked, the tremor betraying his tears. “I want your honesty, Namjoon. Have I done anything horrible to her?”

“To who?” I asked, stepping closer to comfort him. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs, an effort to hide his pain from the world. It never occurred to me that he was trying to conceal his suffering so well. I had always misread him. He could only shake his head, eyes squeezed shut as new tears poured forth.

I wrapped him in an embrace, feeling the weight of his grief pressing into me. The last time he had cried on my shoulder was at his father’s funeral, a day when Ahn’s cruel words had cut him to the bone. Taehyung had stumbled out of the building, bleeding and torn, begging me to hold him. My father, showing rare kindness, had taken him home to clean up.

“You could never wrong her,” I said, not great with comfort but hoping my words would help. “Whatever happened between you two is just a wrinkle in time. Sol is angry with herself. She loves you, and she knows how much you love her.”

Tae sniffled, his cries muffled against my shoulder.

“Not Sol,” he sobbed. “Y/N.”

That was a harder pill to swallow. I could spout meaningless platitudes about his mate all day. Their love was a given. Taehyung had been furious with her for talking to Jimin behind his back, but I knew they’d work through it. Their bond was strong. His relationship with Y/N, though, was a different matter. I had never witnessed it firsthand, but I knew it was meaningful. Taehyung saw her as the older sister he never had, but I felt ill-equipped to guide him through this grief.

“You didn’t do anything to her, Tae,” I reasoned. “She made a choice to leave. She didn’t harbor ill will towards you. She even left you a note with your necklace. Doesn’t that say something?”

The red gem from Bridd’s gift pressed against my skin, a bittersweet reminder of her kindness. Taehyung had worn the necklace since reading the note, a gesture he hadn’t truly earned but had been given nonetheless. I had my own connection to Bridd through that journal she gave me, which had turned into a poetry book. I respected her, and that respect guided me in my attempt to console Taehyung.

“I told Sol,” Taehyung whimpered. “I told her after she asked me to keep quiet. It’s all my fault—”

“I’m done with the blame game,” I sighed, gently pushing him back to arm’s length. I gripped his shoulders. “Everyone’s been wallowing in self-pity. Y/N left to find help. No one forced her to do that. You and I both know she’s capable. Stop acting like she’s dead. She’s out there trying to help us. We need to stay focused.”

“What if she…” His voice faltered, unable to utter the word “death.”

“Then we make sure her sacrifice isn’t in vain,” I said, releasing him. “We plan, strategize, and fight tooth and nail against those things. For Bridd.”

I didn’t relish invoking her name this way, but I knew Taehyung would cling to it. Her name was a beacon of hope in this dark time. His eyes ignited with a renewed fire, the heat returning to them.

“For Bridd,” he echoed, as if making a solemn vow.

Inside, I prayed for her safe return. I was unsure how long this newfound fire would last, or what would happen if it burned out of control. Taehyung was obsessive by nature. As a child, he painted like his father, sculpted like our grandmother, and later, dived into gardening. Now, I feared his focus would be consumed by this war. He wasn’t ready for what was coming, but I had to believe in his strength.

“You should go see your mom,” I said sincerely. “I’m sure Jong and Jin miss you.”

I left unsaid my concerns about him being cooped up in the Temple since his return.

He nodded, “I will. Let one of the maids know I’ve left. I don’t want Sol to worry.”

“You’re not telling her you’re leaving?”

He frowned. “We’re not on speaking terms at the moment.”

Oh, Bridd, why did you have to leave? Why did Sol have to stir things up? Seeing Taehyung so defeated was a blow. The fire I had ignited in him didn’t soothe my worries. He was still adrift, and I feared my attempts at comfort had done more harm than good. Maybe it would have been simpler to let him cry it out. Navigating whether I’d said or done the right thing was a far more daunting task.

The day slipped through my fingers like a handful of sand, the minutes eroded by the grind of endless work. After my talk with Taehyung, he had gone off to find his siblings, while I remained buried in the heavy silence of the library. Despite our grim business of war, we still had our East Coast obligations to handle. Hours ticked by as I drafted warnings and travel advisories, scribbling frantically until my hand ached. 

When the time came to face the maps spread across the tables, I hoped the change in scenery would spark a breakthrough. The library was a cavern of paper and ink, and I dived into its depths, searching for something—anything—that might tip the scales in our favor.

But the talk of war had become a cacophony of angry voices. My father and Jimin were at each other’s throats, each stubbornly clutching their own version of strategy. My father wanted to march straight into Northorn, to meet our enemy head-on. Jimin, with his uncanny knack for seeing beyond the obvious, thought it was nothing short of idiocy. He argued that the elves would have the upper hand on unfamiliar ground. Our pack knew the forest better than anyone; it was our home turf, and it should be our advantage. 

Jungkook and I were on the same page, much to my relief. We didn’t want to die, but if the situation demanded it, we would. He leaned towards Jimin’s strategy, favoring a defensive stance in Bangtan. It made the most sense—until the elves found a way to stir up trouble.

The witches from Syrena arrived in the late afternoon, a storm of anger and despair. Their leader had fallen during the attack, leaving them in the care of the swamp witch. I felt a pang of sympathy for them, as they stumbled into our midst. Their rage was palpable, their grief a raw wound that bled into everything they did.

Yoongi was on my mind again. He was adjusting to his blindness, but the idea of him fighting was laughable. He was a fantastic fighter when he could see, but now he was little more than dead weight. It was a shame—he had been a force to be reckoned with, even if a spell had temporarily taken him out. I had no doubt he’d be back, even if it meant defying orders. His death, when it came, would be a dignified one.

Then there was Seokjin. He surprised me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Despite my dislike for the witch, I had to admit the man could fight. He had defended his girlfriend, taken down countless elves, and even saved his father’s life. I hoped we could set aside our differences and train together. It was crucial that we learned to fight as a unit. I planned to discuss this with Jimin later.

Before I could lose myself further in thought, I caught her scent. The sweet, cloying aroma of Sol was unmistakable, a stark contrast to the damp, cold air of the library. Her bare feet were a whisper against the marble floor, and I braced myself for the encounter. Sol’s attempt to mask her natural scent had always been a losing battle, but I couldn’t fault her for it. Ahn had stripped her of her self-confidence, leaving her to second-guess everything about herself.

She appeared before me, her small figure framed by the ornate grandeur of the library. Her hair, unbound and flowing, was a cascade of dark waves, a sharp contrast to the cold sterility of the surroundings. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with her exposure. Modesty was an old relic, but Sol had been taught its importance, and Ahn had made sure she lived in its shadow.

“Luna,” I greeted, my voice tentative. “Your hair…”

She sighed, as if resigned to my reaction. Her tone was edged with annoyance, but I couldn’t decipher why. Ahn had instilled in her a warped sense of propriety, and the way she wore her hair now seemed to mock it.

“Does it matter?” she murmured, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “We all know I’m no longer virtuous.”

I frowned. “Your virtue isn’t tied to your virginity, Sol.”

I could feel the discomfort between us, the unspoken boundaries crossed. Sol’s presence was like a weight on my chest, and I had to force myself to remain composed. Taehyung would be devastated if he caught us in such an awkward position. I stood up, putting a respectful distance between us, and turned my attention to the doorframe, trying to look anywhere but at her.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “Aside from the obvious.”

I leaned against the doorframe, peering into the hall, grateful for the distance it offered. I heard Sol take a seat in the chair I had vacated, the sound of her movements marking her presence more than her words.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” Sol’s voice was a fragile whisper.

“Why would I think that?” I countered, genuinely puzzled.

She laughed, a hollow sound that resonated with self-deprecation. “You’ve been a constant in my life longer than anyone. You were there before Taehyung. You and I were almost betrothed, according to my father.”

The mention of Ahn made my skin crawl. He was no father of hers. The real truth was darker—Ahn had taken her from her real parents, Cho Haneul and Bong Ha-Yun, who had vanished from the village under suspicious circumstances. Whispers hinted at banishment or worse, but I’d always taken my mother’s word that Ahn had been behind it all. 

“I’ve never been fair to you,” Sol continued, her voice trembling. “I was mean, rude, and cold. I wanted Jimin so badly that I mistreated you. I’m sorry for that.”

I listened, indifferent. Sol’s words were a weak balm to old wounds. I knew her well enough to understand her manipulations, her selfishness veiled under layers of false remorse. 

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“You knew me before Taehyung did. I know you didn’t like me, but I trust your opinion. I know I don’t deserve your kindness, but I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her voice was weary, and I found myself disenchanted with her pleas. I reminded myself of her age and the naivety that came with it, but it didn’t soften the irritation I felt. She had made mistakes, breached boundaries, and caused chaos, all while thinking she could remain unscathed.

“Am I a bad person?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath.

“No,” I said firmly, though it was hard to mask my irritation. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll lie to make you feel better. You’ve caused enough damage, and it’s your responsibility to deal with the consequences.”

Her soft sniffles were a distant echo to my frustration. She had stirred trouble and failed to take responsibility for it. I wasn’t here to placate her. I was here to get through the day.

“I’m not the one to offer you comfort,” I said, turning away. “Seek solace from your maids. They’re trained to dry tears; I’m not.”

With that, I left the library, my mind already set on finding a place to rest. The Temple was no refuge from the turmoil of the day, but it was all I had. Maybe Sam would be around, and her company would be a welcome distraction. Her beauty and confidence had always been a bright spot, even if I wasn’t ready to entertain any advances. Tonight, though, I’d take any semblance of normalcy I could get.

I had no desire to return to my family home. Spending too long around my parents was like slowly going mad. The pretense I maintained with my father was exhausting, and my mother—well, she never had the backbone to stand up to him. My childhood was a grim carousel of beatings, with my mother watching, her own misery forgotten as long as she avoided the brunt of his rage. By the time Mini arrived, those days were behind us, and my father had stopped drinking. Our relationship had improved, but the bitterness lingered, festering like a wound that never fully healed. Sometimes, I wondered if I truly hated them both.

Lately, I had been crashing at Hoseok’s place. But he’d asked for some space, and I was buried in work, too tangled up to find another spot to crash. It was a far cry from the opulent room I had at the Temple, but the Temple had become a place I loathed. I’d have joined Jimin and the rest of the copiae, but the weight of my responsibilities kept me tied down. Stepping down as head council would mean my father or Bo would handle public relations, and the thought of that was enough to make me want to gnaw my own arm off. Taehyung would go berserk if those two were left in charge.

I racked my brain for other friends to stay with. The Parks would welcome me, but their home was overflowing with guests. Yoongi and the swamp witch’s families were still there, Jin’s group was with Taehyung’s family, and the Syrena witches were scattered among the wolf families and humans. They’d planned to stay at the Temple, but Sol had made a mess of that arrangement. Everything had spiraled out of control faster than I could keep up with.

“Lost in thought?” Jimin’s voice cut through my musings. 

I stopped in my tracks, realizing I had wandered into the copiae grounds. Jimin lounged on his porch, a large glass in hand, his face shadowed by a dark expression. The sharp scent of alcohol reached me even from the street. I approached him, trying to ignore the tumultuous thoughts of my father.

“You’re drunk,” I observed, taking the glass from his hand and sniffing it. Mead, probably from Jungkook’s stash. “This isn’t going to help.”

He shrugged, a gesture of defeat. “I know. Just needed a distraction.”

Here I was again, being dragged into someone else’s emotional wreckage. Even if Jimin hadn’t asked outright, I knew I’d end up hauling him inside and making him sleep. At least, I could crash here afterward. Tomorrow, I’d make sure he ate something and then convince him to help me go over documents at the Temple. He was the battle strategist, after all.

“I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart,” I said bluntly. “I’ve already dealt with two sob stories today, and my patience is shot. So you’re going to let me help you, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Jimin leaned back, sweat glistening on his forehead and his hair a tangled mess. He looked uncharacteristically disheveled. I rubbed my face in frustration.

“Fine,” I sighed, “how about this: I need a place to sleep. I can’t stand Taehyung and Sol right now, and you—” I gestured at him, “—look like hell. Obviously, you’re a mess, but the pack needs you to pull yourself together so we can get through this.”

Jimin didn’t move. He remained like a statue, eyes fixed on something distant. “I’ll stay the night. Tomorrow, we’ll talk feelings or whatever. Then, we’ll come up with a plan to get you back in the game. Sound good?”

He rolled his eyes, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “What’s the point?” His face crumpled in despair. I felt lost at sea, unable to handle his sorrow. Thankfully, he composed himself, though the heaviness lingered. “What’s the point of anything? Without her... it just doesn’t matter.”

I sat down beside him, the cold, rough wood against my legs. I tried to focus on this as a conversation between friends. Jimin had never asked me for anything before. When Taehyung was chosen, Jimin had been the first to urge me to stand firm against Ahn. I had been foolish, ignoring his advice. Now he needed me to be the rock, and I couldn’t let him down.

We couldn’t keep going like this. Jimin wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and I knew the only way to get him back on track was to think of something drastic. My mind was already spinning a plan, one that had seemed hopeless earlier, but now felt like a desperate gamble. Maybe, just maybe, giving him a glimmer of hope might help him pull himself together. Feeling a pang of guilt, I decided to go for it and face the consequences later.

“I know you’re hurting,” I said, trying to soften my tone, unsure if it worked. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. When you and Taehyung were gone, the guilt nearly ate me alive. It must be worse for you.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he started to protest, but I brushed it off.

“I think I do. No one else seems to be,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re in deep trouble right now, Park. We need you.”

Jimin shook his head. “I wouldn’t be much help right now, Joon.”

“I don’t believe that,” I replied. “Honestly, anything you do would be better than the mess you’ve got going on. And by the way, your girl’s on my side. She’d be furious if she knew how much you’ve been slacking.”

That made him chuckle softly.

“That’s fair,” he said, a wan smile spreading across his flushed face. “She’s such a little firecracker, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “She once tried to set me on fire.”

We shared a laugh, remembering that day. Truth was, she scared the hell out of me. If she had really wanted to hurt me, she could’ve. I’d barely escaped with just a few scratches and bruises. Jimin had beaten me senseless when she got hurt, but I had a lifetime of memories that made me untouchable. Bridd, however, was another story.

“What if I made you a deal?” I asked, catching his attention.

He perked up. “What kind of deal?”

“If we make it through the next wave on top, I’ll help you find her.”

His eyes sharpened, a flicker of hope lighting up. “Really?”

Guilt twisted in my gut. I didn’t truly believe we’d reach that point. The elves were everywhere, their grip tightening on Northorn with each passing day. We were far from ready, and with traitors in our midst, the situation was dire. The alliance with the quietus was fragile, and the witch problem was something only Jimin could fix. It could be weeks or even months before we could search for Bridd. Still, I had to use her as leverage. We needed strong leadership, and the witch was the best motivation I could offer.

“I’ll go with you,” I said, doubling down. “We can take a small group. I’ve got connections with a quietus who knows the lay of the land. Finding her could be straightforward.”

“You’d do that for me?” He looked genuinely surprised.

I nodded. “If we’re in a position to do it, why not?”

I watched as he mulled it over, the distant look in his eyes dissolving into something clear, almost serene. He was on board. Hope unfurled in my chest like a fragile flower reaching for the sun. With Jimin on my side, dealing with Taehyung would be a breeze. The older alpha’s desire for redemption would give us a leverage, and if Jimin and Taehyung could join forces, we’d have Hoseok back in the mix too.

Things were starting to tilt in our favor. Soon, the elementals and witches would be joining our discussions, the elder council would be edged out by a new generation of leaders, and the war would start to feel like something we could actually manage. I might even be able to recruit a fresh wave of warriors to the copiae once the village saw Jimin’s renewed determination.

“Stay here as long as you need,” Jimin finally said, and I was doing a mental victory dance. “You can crash on the couch.”

I sprang up, ready to hit the sack, and gave his head a playful shove. He chuckled, swatting my hand away. We used to mess around like this all the time as kids—Jimin always had a knack for winning our wrestling matches. He was slippery as an eel.

“Let’s go, kid,” I said, stretching my arms above my head. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow. Council meeting.”

He nodded, reaching out for my help to stand. He must have imbibed more than I realized; it took a lot for alcohol to hit us this hard.

“Hopefully, Taehyung will deal with the two ancient relics in the Temple,” he slurred, stumbling inside and mumbling about how his bed felt like it had swallowed him whole.

A/N: So Joon pov??? How do we like? He's not the only pov switch we're going to have, but we will be seeing a lot of our favorite (to hate) alpha joining our main squad. I thought he would be a good outside mind to get inside of since he's not as emotionally connected to Bridd as the others. Any guesses as to who our other switches might be?

p.s. These pov chapters will be a bit shorter than our normal, reader pov ones, but not by much.

Taglist: @greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz @chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[beesmygod]

"A GHOST STORY" IS A WEBCOMIC I MAKE THAT I WILL BE RE-POSTING, GRADUALLY.

the left is from 2013, the right is from the 2018-2022 re-draw and were drawn in 2021. these are my favorite pages from the re-draw. i think they came out so much better and the re-write is superior in every single way. i've been swamped with wedding planning and haven't been around my desktop so this took a while for me to around to posting.

the use of ecclesiastical latin to beat back the ghost was boring, limited, and was a source of a major plothole in my story that drove me crazy: if magic was as easy as reading a bible, why didn't everyone do it? a better reason is that you have to speak in a language that doesn't REALLY exist. i mean it does, but it doesn't.

the language being spoken is the alphabet of the magi, a 1500s semetic alphabet used by niche occultists. there is very little real world information on this "alphabet", making it a great blank slate for a stupid webcomic to build off of. it would probably be difficult to pronounce a magical alphabet, which is why a witch would (in the universe of "a ghost story") need to be called in to deal with ghosts instead of a layman.

i think there are other magical alphabets in the world of "a ghost story", this is just the one i use the most and the ones that the characters prefer. maxine adjusts her ghost hunting techniques based on what she's facing but this alphabet would be her "go-to" for its practicality and near universal applications.

using blood to corral ghosts will come up again, later in the comic. :)

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♥ read the comic: A Ghost Story ♥ support the comic for as little as $1 a month on Patreon ♥ donate on kofi ♥ pay what you want for the re-draw of the first chapter on itch.io

you can block the tag "#AGS repost" to keep this off your dash