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codenamebooks · 1 year

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My 2022 Book Ranking

For about three years now, I rank the books that I read throughout the year as I read them. For the most part, it's based on general vibes and a quick comparison in my head. There's not much to it: no official system with specific details that I look for. Star ratings have a bit to do with it, but if I didn't give it a high rating, it's not going to be high up in the ranking anyway. Here are my 2022 rankings, from lowest to highest, out of the 18 books I read with one liner explanations (a little late, I know):

18. The Hare With Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal | Goodreads | 1.5 stars

I read this for class, didn't finish it, but didn't like the pacing of it anyway.

17. Clash of Civilization Over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio by Amara Lakhous | Goodreads | 2.5 stars

Also read this for class, but did finish and didn't hate it because it was more entertaining than I expected.

16. Stand-Off (Winger #2) by Andrew Smith | Goodreads | 3 stars

This is a great book for teenage boys who need t unlearn toxic masculinity early.

15. City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments #6) by Cassandra Clare | Goodreads | 4 star

The last book in the series and it actually wrapped up the circumstances very well.

14. Passing by Nella Larsen | Goodreads | 3 stars

I read this for class and it was such an interesting concept, but it wasn't always super engaging.

13. Down Among the Sticks and Bones (Wayward Children #2) by Seanan McGuire | Goodreads | 3 stars

Star rating mostly because of how long I took to read it, but Jack is one of my favorite characters ever.

12. Finding Audrey by Sophie Kinsella | Goodreads | 3.5 stars

A really interesting story about mental health, heavy but constantly remaining lighthearted and funny.

11. Shadow and Bone (Shadow and Bone #1) by Leigh Bardugo | Goodreads | 3.8 stars

I feel like I've heard a lot of negative reviews about this book/series but I enjoyed this as an introduction to the world.

10. Beneath the Sugar Sky (Wayward Children #3) by Seanan McGuire | Goodreads | 4 stars

This one was extremely fun and expanded the world of this series so much more.

9. We'll Always Have Summer (Summer #3) by Jenny Han | Goodreads | 3.75 stars

My least favorite of the trilogy but I read it all in one setting so it was definitely an interesting plot... Albeit a little absurd.

8. The City We Became (Great Cities #1) by N. K. Jemisen | Goodreads | 3.75 stars

Takes a lot of concentration to understand what's going on, but an amazing and intricate concept.

7. People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry | Goodreads | 4.5 stars

My first proper romance (in a long time) and it was so funny although I didn't love Poppy as a main character (but she had great growth)

6. The Summer I Turned Pretty (Summer #1) by Jenny Han (reread) | Goodreads | 4.5 stars

Reread this to finally finish the trilogy and it was so much fun to relive all of the emotions of this rollercoaster love triangle.

5. It's Not Summer Without You (Summer #2) by Jenny Han | Goodreads | 5 stars

This second book literally had me screaming, crying, gasping, angry, happy, little everything every other second.

4. Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward | Goodreads | 5 stars

Read this for class and it is by far the best book I've read for academic purposes.

3. Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass #3) by Sarah J. Maas | Goodreads | 5 stars

This book made me scared to go on with the series but also so desperate to get to it immediately.

2. The Assassin's Blade (Throne of Glass #3.5) by Sarah J. Maas | Goodreads | 5 stars

Had a friend say this was her favorite in the entire series and I completely see why, the stories were so intriguing.

Crown of Midnight (Throne of Glass #2) by Sarah J. Maas | Goodreads | 5 stars

Whew, did this book constantly have me in shambles almost entirely because of Dorian.

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suchananewsblog · 1 year

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Edmund de Waal: Decoding stories of exile

Twelve years ago, I discovered The Hare with the Amber Eyes, a memoir by celebrated British ceramist Edmund de Waal, in a book store in Edinburgh. It was another year before I read it and it became my all-time favourite book. Over the years, I have gifted it to friends, family, those I met at work and oftentimes to complete strangers. I’ve given away over 300 copies to a mix of people whose…

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#anti-semitism #British ceramist #Charles Ephrussi #Edmund de Waal #interview #Japanese netsuke #Jewish diaspora #Jewish family #Letters to Camondo #migration #Odessa #paris #polarization #Ranvir Shah #The Hare with the Amber Eyes #treatment of exiles #vienna #Vienna and Tokyo #Viktor von Ephrussi

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cordeliawhohung · 24 days

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Of Sea Foam and Iron [4]

general masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap

a love like fire

wc: 3.5k

You rise before the dawn’s glory has the chance to wash your home in gold.

Not even the doves are up to sing their songs as they bask in the faint glow of the sunrise curling above the horizon. Its pallid light seeps into the bedroom through the shutters over the window where it streaks on the walls in gentle beams. You are still trapped just like you are every morning; nestled between your two naked husbands as they gently snore through their dreams. Their warmth lulls you to sleep, whispers for you to close your eyes once more and rest. It takes significant convincing to coax your limbs into movement. To rip yourself from the heat that surrounds you in this elysian morning.

Like a hare, you burrow your way through swathes of blankets, taking care not to tread on the sleeping figures on either side of you. They wake. You know they do. Snores suddenly ceasing, bodies tensing, eyelids fluttering — but they do not speak. They let you slip away; their little dove, fluttering free from the nest.

Small beads of water clump onto the shutters of the kitchen window, dripping on the sill in tiny pools as you open them. Rain has continued to spit and drizzle over the land for a few days now, but the bulk of the storm has passed. Green foliage and fresh crops have thrived off of the nutrients, covering the oceanside with lush, singing plants. Even the courtyard hums a verdant tune with specks of yellow dandelions dancing in their midst.

But you did not wake up early to stand in the moist, chilly air, or to watch as the brume settles and sways above the earth. You are awake to make bread.

A warm blaze ignites in the stove with embers you steal from the dying hearth. Growing flames waltz before your eyes to a terrifying tune. Fire has always scared you. You watch their amber glow and recall the burning flesh of your fathers hands from a kitchen mishap when you were a child. Seared skin, bubbling with blisters, and quiet curses; it took him weeks to fully heal. To be able to hold your hand without tears pricking his eyes.

Your love for the ocean only grew after that incident. An insatiable urge to let the foamy waves wash over your body, cleansing you. You suppose fire can also clean — can sanitize you until there’s no filth left — but there is more love to be found in briny water than choking flames. Fire cleans by consuming indiscriminately. Water cleans by smothering the grime until you are bare and naked.

How odd, then, for you to be married to a man born and raised by fire.

Simon is the first of the two to rise after you. Half dressed, he carefully shuffles down the stairs, following the scent of warm bread cooling next to a bowl of freshly boiled dandelions. Unlike usual, you hear him approaching. His steps are hardly silent these days with his knees aching from the weather, but he grunts less as he enters the kitchen.

You turn to greet him, and an ambivalent pang twists in your stomach. Simon has been on your mind all morning — or, really, the last few days. Your conversation with John has haunted you in more ways than one, and it’s especially tortuous when you’re living with the ghost. That strange apparition who arrived in your life to whisk you to safety. Not even the simple act of breadmaking could void him from your thoughts. While kneading dough, all you could recall was the way your fingers moved along the scars on his knees in an attempt to quell the agony writhing underneath his skin.

A small act of love — too meaningless to acquit you of your other transgressions.

“Good morning,” you say, voice shorter than you intended.

Simon looks at you for a long moment, fingers curling and uncurling to break apart the stiffness in his joints. “Morning.”

Thick ignominy clogs your throat, and you avert your gaze from the towering stance of your husband for bread and wilted dandelions. You distract yourself as you dress the greens with a healthy drizzle of olive oil and coarse salt, but you are well aware of the heavy feet sliding along the floor behind you. The dull scrape leaves the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and you regret leaving the windows open.

“What’s this?” He’s close. The closest he’s ever been to you outside of bed, chest nearly against your back as he glances over your shoulder. Heat radiates off of him like the forge he slaves over — as if the flesh of his heart has been torn out and replaced with a crucible. “Horta vrasta?”

Every instinct within you screams at you to look over your shoulder, but you don’t. “Yes. We don’t have any lemons, though. Oil and salt will have to suffice.”

A sonorous hum rattles his chest. “My mother used to cook this,” he recalls.

You wish he didn’t tell you that, because now you’re thinking of him as a child. Young, small; free from scars. Fair skin kissed by the sun — kissed by a loving mother — as she attempts to fix messy strands of flaxen hair on his forehead. You imagine him being embraced by his mother. You imagine his smile before it was ruined by marks and disfiguration; before it was washed away in blood and gore. A twitch in your fingers halts your movements as you go to mix the still warm dandelions in front of you:

Does he still dream of his mother? Does he pray to the gods that you would hold him the same way she used to? How ugly of you — you think to yourself — to be so wary of a man because of the scars on his skin as if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you had ever heard when he spoke of the woman who birthed him. As if those scars were given to him over something other than love.

Neither of you speak a word as he retrieves a knife and begins to slice the bread. Help that you didn’t ask for, yet help that you don’t refrain from receiving. His hands are almost as large as the loaf, and though it could easily crumble in his hands, he handles it with nothing but care as the crust breaks beneath the blade.

He’ll keep his distance, if you let him.

You swallow. “Did… you enjoy this meal as a child?” you question.

“No,” he admits. Blunt, but not rude. “But it reminds me of her, so I enjoy it anyway.”

Just as Simon finishes — several slices sitting in pristine stripes in front of him — you hear a yawn from the stairwell. You turn to the source of the noise and find John, chiton hardly covering his chest as he lumbers into the kitchen. He yawns again, hand covering his open mouth, before eyes dripping with delassation land on you and Simon. A smile attempts to flitter across your lips, but it looks just as awkward as it feels.

“You should have woken me up. I would have helped,” he says. It’s unclear as to who it’s directed to, you or Simon, but you have a feeling it’s both of you.

Simon doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder as he replies: “You needed the sleep.”

John scoffs, something light and playful, as he approaches the table with a wave of his hand. Wood squeaks as he drags his chair back, and sits down with a thump. “Making me obsolete over here.”

“I’m makin’ you heal,” Simon retorts.

Breakfast is quiet, save for the savory crunch of fresh bread crust between your teeth. Everyone is too busy nourishing their bodies to stop and talk, but there is a tight atmosphere that hangs heavy in the air around your head. This discomfiture plagues you relentlessly, painfully reminding you just how sheltered you have been throughout your life. Boarded up. A bird locked in a cage. Rather than preparing you for the real world, you’re left writhing about, pecking at the hands that try to feed you, and lazily preening yourself for comfort.

Despite Simon’s apparent dislike — or contempt — for the dish, he’s the first to finish. Plate nearly licked clean, you’re certain the man has never complained about anything in his entire life. He’s never complained about you, anyway, even when he should have. He licks his fingers clean of oil and salt before pushing away from the table.

“I should head to the market. We’re low on food,” he says.

“Simon, love, you’re still struggling to walk,” John reminds him. “Let me go.”

“I can walk plenty fine.”

It’s a lie; an obvious one. He always limps, but it’s been exaggerated ever since that storm rolled in, and you’re reminded as much as you watch him stand to discard his plate. Warm stones and your brittle hands can only do so much to heal the ache that permeates even the toughest parts of him.

“You have work to catch up on. Been too rainy to keep the forge running,” John urges. He’s nearly begging as he stands from his seat and chases after his lover. “Let me go. Worry about work. I’ll take care of this.”

Either Simon is a man who refuses to accept help, or he holds a love so strong that he can’t imagine shouldering any sort of burden onto the ones he cares for; either way, when he finally accepts John’s offer, he does so begrudgingly. Mutters something about how he shouldn’t be out long before pressing a kiss to his cheek. When he decides that wasn’t good enough, he drags John closer by his chiton before truly embracing him.

I would have liked to have married him.

Nothing settles properly in your stomach. Not the oil or bread, nor the delicious greens — the only thing that settles is the guilt. Its roots twist far and deep in your body, strangling every artery and organ until it’s got a hold of your bones. You have ruined something beautiful; become a disgusting stain on what could have been a poignant love story, and you don’t have even the slightest idea on how to mend the damage.

“Would you like to come with me, little dove?”

The plate in front of you scoots back along the deep, etching grains of the table, and you follow the hand moving it until John is in your view. Your brain processes his question, eyes blinking as you try to come back down to earth.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you say in a half-hearted attempt at dismissing his notion.

His smile is faint and exhausted as it crosses his lips, but his movements are just as strong and tempered as the stories would have you believe. Wooden boards creak underneath his weight as he gets on one knee, hands slowly reaching for yours. John relishes the touch of your skin, thumb rubbing along the metacarpals in your hand like he’s never felt anything so soft before.

“It would do you some good to get out of the house,” he insists before pausing. What was a faint smile quickly morphs into a hardly contained grin as he leans closer. You attempt to quell your thunderous heart, yet it does not listen to you. “I’ll take you to visit the ocean.”

Zeal glimmers in the dark pupils of your eyes, and John can no longer contain the curl of his lips or the flash of his teeth. He’s lured you in; hook, line, and sinker — but you don’t care. You have not tasted the brine of home in so long, you almost fear you’ve forgotten it, and you willingly fall into him as he pulls you up from your seat like a fish dangling on thread.

Despite the cool breeze, the market is packed. Freshly slaughtered animals hang up for display on wickedly curved hooks piercing through their meat. They’re so fresh that you swear you can nearly feel the life still buzzing through them; hear the quiet bleat of a lamb crying for comfort. Boisterous laughter ignites as deals are struck among traders, and you find your eyes wandering to wooden tubs full to the brim with mouthwatering produce — you can’t recall the last time you were allowed at the market. Some time ago when you were still a child, surely. Before your father locked you away to keep men from spilling blood over petty vanity.

John rarely lets go of your hand as he splits patrons apart like a knife through flesh. No one dares to brush past you. They eye the dog leashed to your hand, look at his scars and bloodthirsty smile, and they refrain from even glancing at you, lest they tempt the beast into attacking. For a moment, you’re able to be blissfully unaware of it all. Of the bodies swarming behind you as you squeeze freshly harvested tomatoes. Every voice that speaks is muted as you enjoy the artisan goods and handcrafted jewelry — the freshly pressed cheese, the expertly woven textiles, beautiful dyes.

For the first time in years, you’re able to wander the world with child-like wonder rather than dread and trepidation, and you’re not sure what to thank for that. Have you grown undesirable? A wild woman locked up too long? Feral, untamed eyes that only know how to yearn for the world rather than seize it? Or is it because of John, the man who holds so much care for you that you are the only thing in the world that can bend his otherwise immutable stance? Is this the life your father dreamed for you? To not only be respected, but feared?

Once the bag is heavier with food than it is coin, John fulfills his promise to you, and you find sun kissed sand between your toes in no time. Days grow warmer and longer as summer reaches its peak, and your lungs revel in the brackish air, still thick with petrichor. The ocean’s song hums low and strong, a gentle push and pull that leaves your senses tingling. You feel it calling. That insatiable allure that would have you drown in the salt and mist if it called for you to do so.

You stare out at the waves as the wind teases your chiton. That same wind drags billowing clouds along the horizon where the sky meets the sea, drawing away the summer storm that’s been plaguing the city for days. Something swells in your chest. You pray that Poseidon shows mercy with his storms. Simon has been aching for too long.

“Look at this.”

John begs for your attention softly with the brush of his knuckles against the back of your arm. His mellow touch still makes you jump — flinch as if you have been burnt — and you glance to your side as he comes into view. Sand coated fingers brush against a dainty, bone white disk, cleaning it of debris. A delicate fossil reveals itself underneath the grime; perfect bones preserved in sediment to create a completely whole sand dollar. You find your own fingers reaching out on instinct to brush against the fragile shell. It’s rare for you to find one unbroken. Something not shattered into pieces that litter the coastline.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“Keep it. It’s yours, now,” he insists.

Warm hands embrace yours as John uncurls your fingers and presses the sand dollar into your palm. You let it rest gentle and quiet, as if a mere onerous thought would force the sediment to crack. You smile down at the object — or, perhaps you smile at John’s enthusiasm. Wild dogs are often known for biting. For reveling in the flesh they sink their teeth into, and chuckling while they savor the blood. But this dog — Ares’s Dog — loves to play just as much as he does fight. Fetching trinkets and bones like childsplay. Returning it to the people he adores most with an ivory grin.

John MacTavish is very altruistic for a dog, and it worries you. It worries you, because you don’t know what to do with this unfamiliar feeling that twists in your stomach.

“You are… very kind,” you note with a stiff tone.

“Does it surprise you that I am?” he asks, sliced eyebrow quirking.

“I think so,” you admit. Restive fingers carefully curl around the object in your hand. You stare at it as your heart thuds against your sternum, as if attempting to break free from your chest. “All other men before you and Simon love so violently. Enough that they would strike my father, or lunge like snakes poised to bite. Kindness has always been false for me. Something that precedes the terrifying reveal of what people truly want from me. I think… I am afraid to love, or be loved. I’m afraid it will hurt.”

John is silent for a moment. The swell of crashing waves waxes and wanes just like the moon it dances to. Seagulls scream their shrill song for the ocean to dance to. They clash to make their own symphony. It is a tradition you were born and raised on. You could sway to it with your eyes gouged and ears ruptured.

“I’ve been thinking about this for some time now,” you continue. Your toes wiggle in the sand in an attempt to comfort yourself, but you can feel the way the brine burns your eyes. “My fear. I lash out like a child. A wild animal. I do not know how you and Simon put up with such an unruly wife. Anyone else would have…”

Swallowing, you cut yourself off, refusing to finish your thought.

“If it is violent, then it isn’t love,” John concludes, smothering any worries lingering in the cords of your heart. His fingers brush over yours, soft and comforting, and this time, you do not flinch. “Love is not gentle. It rages like fire and consumes more than you’d like it to. But it does not hurt. It never hurts. I promise. And don’t worry about Simon and I. Neither of us are unfamiliar with the strangeness of the heart, or how fear manifests into anger. It’s a fragile balance, little dove.”

With trembling lips, you look at John. For a man with sinewy muscles and scars deep enough to shred them, he looks at you with a softness that nearly makes you crumble. The very foundation of your being weakens and cries out. You could collapse to the ground, and you’re terrified there would be nothing to break your fall.

“You’re quite the poet for a soldier,” you say in an attempt at humor.

He grins. “You find much to think and write about while traveling the lands. Much to love. Including you.”

You understand what John meant when he said love is like fire. Unforgiving flames lick at the heels of your feet, and your heart flutters in preparation to flee. It’s foreign. Uncomfortable. All your life, you have known nothing but the cold, treacherous waters of the ocean — it’s all you’ve ever been — and you fear it may be too late to warm you now.

John does not wait for a response. Does not demand gratitude or reciprocation. Instead, he turns his head where the wind pulls at the dark locks of his hair. His skin glows beneath the sunlight as if Apollo has kissed him a hundred times over, and he smiles at the warmth.

“We’ve been gone too long. Can hear Simon’s mumbling already,” he teases while he adjusts the strap of his bag. “Are you ready to go home?”

Home. He says it like it’s the place where you’ve always belonged. Like your very essence stains the wood and stone that house is built of. It feels wrong for him to give you ownership of something you used to rage so fiercely against. You are undeserving of it. Of any softness they bestow. Yet, you crave it. John says that word — home — and you want to wrap yourself in his timbre. You would have liked to have met him and Simon sooner. It would have been enjoyable making bread for them every morning.

“Yes,” you answer meekly.

This time, you are the one to take his hand. John glances at you like a dog with its ears perked up, and for a moment his expression is unreadable. Shock. Startled. Then, he melts. Fingers interlacing with yours, his quiet mirth washes over you as he tugs you forward, nearly bounding off to follow fading footprints back home. Hand clutching John’s gift to your chest, you smile. It aches and burns in your cheeks as the unused muscles protest, and still it persists.

If what John says is true — that love eats like a raging fire — you will gladly be consumed until you’re used up and nothing but ash. After all, it would be fitting to be destroyed by the only thing you have ever craved.

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #f!reader #of sea foam and iron

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themanicnami · 1 year

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💖Witchcraft Correspondence: Love💖

Love is one of the parts of life humans chase after in many ways. Not just in ways of romantic desire and sexual interactions but the love of family, friends and love of oneself. It is a common topic when it comes to magic and divination so with that - may this be an easy reference for all of you looking to incorporate love of any kind into your craft. Please note: this isn't every possible correspondence out there - this is more a quick reference guide. Happy witching~

💖Herbs for Love: Anise, Basil, Bay, Catnip, Chamomile, Cinnamon, Coriander/Cilantro, Clove, Damiana, Dill, Fennel, Ginger, Hawthorne, Hibiscus, Jasmine, Lavender, Lemon Balm, Meadowsweet, Myrrh, Parsley, Rose, Rose Hip, Rosemary, Saffron, Sage, Spearmint, Thyme, Vanilla, Valerian, Yarrow

💖 Flowers for Love: Aster, Baby's-Breath, Bleeding Heart, Carnation, Cherry Blossom, Daffodil, Geranium, Hyacinth, Iris, Jasmine, Lavender, Lilac, Orchid, Rose, Sunflower, Tulip

💖 Fruit for Love: Apple, Apricot, Avocado, Banana, Cherry, Cranberry, Fig, Guava, Lemon, Lime, Mango, Nectarine, Orange, Papaya, Passion Fruit, Pomegranate, Peach, Pear, Plum, Raspberry, Strawberry

💖 Vegetables for Love: Artichoke, Asparagus, Beet, Carrot, Celery, Cucumber, Endive, Leek, Lettuce, Onion, Peas, Pumpkin, Radish, Sweet Pea, Tomato, Zucchini

💖 Foods for Love: Chocolate, Pistachio, Rye Bread, Sugar (sweets), Wine

💖 Crystals for Love: Agate, Amber, Amethyst, Aquamarine, Carnelian, Emerald, Garnet, Green Aventurine, Kunzite, Lapis Lazuli, Malachite, Moonstone, Obsidian, Onyx, Pink Topaz, Pink Tourmaline, Pink Quartz (dyed), Rhodochrosite, Rhodonite, Tiger's Eye, Rose Quartz, Ruby

💖 Oils for Love: Anise, Basil, Bay, Birch, Cardamom, Clove, Ginger, Grapefruit, Jasmine, Juniper, Lemongrass, Lemon, Lime, Marjoram, Mints, Myrrh, Rose, Rosemary, Vanilla

💖 Incense/Scents for Love: Amber, Bamboo, Catnip, Cedarwood, Chamomile, Cinnamon, Dragon's Blood, Ginger, Jasmine, Lavender, Patchouli, Rose, Rosewood, Sandalwood, Vanilla, Ylang-ylang

💖 Colors for Love: Pink, Red, White, Orange, Purple, Gold, Silver

💖 Moon Phase for Love: New Moon, Waxing, Full Moon

💖 Day of Week for Love: Friday

💖 Elements for Love: Fire, Water

💖 Zodiac for Love Virgo, Taurus, Cancer, Leo, Gemini, Pisces

💖 Planets for Love: Venus, Moon

💖 Animals for Love: Beaver, Butterfly, Cow, Crane, Dolphin, Dove, Elephant, Flamingo, Hare, Horse, Ladybug, Lion, Lovebird, Owl, Penguin, Starfish, Swan

~~~~~

Like what I post? Want to support me or buy me a delicious coffee? Feel free to check out my Ko-Fi Page!

#witchcraft #correspondences #masterpost #love magic #love correspondences #love correspondence #herbs #crystals #oils #essential oils #incense #planets #willow's grimoire

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falling-star-cygnus · 26 days

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...i've gotten four asks about this sorta thing -> which i'm super grateful for!! thank y'all so much for wanting to see more of my writing!!

i've just sort of been putting these specific ones off until i felt i could adequately display it and even now I feel iffy about the characterization, but I really didn't want to seem like i ignoring y'all either :( -> Masterlist

i have some semblance of a plot now, so... i sincerely hope you all enjoy? this might be the push i need to get out of my funk, and i put in the very best effort for all of you!!

"You were a WHAT?"

"Is now really the time to be surprised!?"

The Ethereal- they kinda looked like one the Ballerina Twins actually, if the Ballerina Twins had galactic glitchy orbs for heads and rainbow glowy nervous systems- warbles at them impatiently. Anby's barely keeping them at bay with her sword.

It's practically a toothpick compared to the giant weapon Thanatos was wielding... They raise their shield-

Billy fires.

It doesn't land, of course it doesn't, but the smaller Demara doesn't get bludgeoned either so the android counts it as a win.

Especially when the bullet ricochets off the sign previously behind the larger than necessary Ethereal and back towards him. Billy tilts his head left just in time to miss it, and pivots on his heel when Thanatos shrieks and flails back. Bullseye.

"It's showtime!" he announces, and lines The Girls up somewhere where their jaw would be. Only about six of the bullets- 12 in total, the android was counting- actually hit before they teleport away again.

Billy reloads.

None of them, except the Boss, used the right typing to properly take Thanatos on.. but there was little to be done until they could carve an escape route out.

The Hares' ready their weapons, turning in slow circles as they wait for Thanatos to appear again. Were they gone..? He knew better than to assume they were, of course, but-

"Billy- behind you!" Nekomata points; he whirls around.

And takes a blade to the head.

There's not much to say for this part, aside from pointing out how cliche and underhanded it was to get him from behind like this, but bits and pieces float around to the surface with just enough clarity to be worth mentioning.

The pavement cracking under the android's weight.

Sparks fluttering out of the cleaved out gash.

Thin oil leaking out of his head like a halo.

Isolation.

Billy stands in the inky abyss of his own mind. His memories- his memories of the Hares'- play out before him like a movie: braiding Anby's hair, putting Nicole's into pigtails, napping in the sun with Nekomata on his chest, warmth-

Fighting as a team, Anby helping him up, Nicole calling his name, the restaurant they all went to after successful raids, fighting alone, Being alone in that truck bed, sand clogging up his joints.

Chill.

The memories fade away, leaving the android with the stilted thought of:

Don't- take them.. from me.

Nothing.

Billy Kid wakes up, and points the nearest weapon- a gun, by the feel of it- at their forehead. The hands reaching for him still, too pale to be anybody from the Sons.

Calloused enough to be Caesar's, though, so they must be some form of blade user. Electric, if the Lichtenburg scars on their finger tips have any weight to them.

The android sits up, ignoring the stab of pain behind his right video processer. He could deal with that later, after figuring out where the actual hell he was. And dealing with whoever it was that moved him.

They're small, surprisingly so, but Lucy and Piper were also small so that didn't exactly mean anything of value. Brilliant white hair, amber eyes, and green and black tech wear.

And a backpack packed with enough thrumming energy to kill the Dead-End Butcher.

Definitely a threat.

Billy Kid doesn't lower the gun, even as he's sure the human's fleshy arms were getting tired of being raised. Or maybe they weren't. He knows their type, he's cut from the same cloth himself.

A weapon.

"Billy, d-"

"How do you know my name," he interrupts, praying to a god he didn't believe in that he wouldn't have to shoot someone so small, "and why are you only using part of it."

He was Billy Kid, the feared enforcer of the outer ring. The only people that occasionally just called him Billy were the other Sons of Calydon. Not strangers.

"We work together," his potential captor calmly says, lowering their hands by their sides, "We're friends. Partners in crime."

"The hell we are."

"We are," they insist.

He doesn't buy it. Billy Kid didn't have friends, he was an android. A weapon and tool for whoever his boss was. Big Sis, the drifters, whoever had him before that.

He cared about them all, more than he should considering what he was made for, but he wasn't built to receive that kind of care in return. Pain spikes behind his processer again, and his free hand instinctively moves to grasp at it.

The stranger jolts forward as the gun dips.

Billy Kid shoots on instinct, even as something like worry[?] coils the wires in his lower torso too tight. There's a click, but in the end nothing but dry fire. And relief[?]

Billy Kid curses at the opening he's provided, and braces himself for the inevitable attack. He doesn't know where the other gun was- because there had to be one, Burnice only ever made things in pairs- and..

Why did he assume Burnice made these...?

Small hands, calloused and scarred, gently- why was he being treated gently- bat his hand away from his video processor. The empty gun is sandwiched between them.

More carefully than he deserves for shooting at them, the stranger inspects something on his face, and the android swings his lanky legs over the side of- it looks like a cot[?] to make it easier for them.

"You took a bad hit to the head," they inform his forehead, only pulling away when Billy Kid starts to get twitchy at the proximity, "an Ionized - Thanatos. It most likely messed with your memory bank."

"Sounds convenient," he scoffs, lowering the gun to his side, "Most likely messed with my memory bank?"

"It definitely did, we were friends," the stranger presses, strangely insistent, "What's the last thing you remember?"

They take off their backpack as the android thinks back on it. Whether to prove they weren't a threat or gain his trust to attack later, he wasn't sure.

What he was sure of was the fact that the harder he thought about it the harder his head pounded. Everything dating up to the past year and six months was just- blank. Corrupted files that spat static and made him want to lie down for a while.

More than that, he felt... lonely, for some reason. Like a big chunk had been carved from his sternum and left to burn in front of him.

"Billy?"

"I don't remember you."

And oh. He'd take it right back if it meant that look never crossed their face again.

It's barely there for a second, but it's a look of pure hurt. Hurt that makes something close to guilt roar where his mechanical heart sat. He never wanted this stranger to look at him like that again.

He never wanted anyone to look at him like that, to be honest. Fighting was fun- it was what he was built for- and the thrill was something that almost nothing could replicate- but...

Flashes- memories- of Lucy and Piper flit through his head, images and phantoms of them tucked into his sides on warm days and colder nights. A rough hand carding through his hair.

...being sent.. off?

“I’m-”

The door cuts him off with a bang!

"What's taking so long!? Is he ok?"

"Nicole! Anby told us to wait-"

Long pink hair and calculating green eyes bully their way into the room. Something in his programming wants to stand at attention all of a sudden...

The stranger- the white-haired stranger, because now there were three- moves away from the confused android. It looks like they want to say something but apparently thinks better of it and turns towards Billy Kid.

"I don't think I should be the one to say it," they- the thiren said her name was Anby[?]- announce, with all the enthusiasm of a dry rock. Which seems to be her MO, endearingly enough. Endearingly?

The pink haired- Nicole puts her hands on her hips.

"Say what?" she demands, before turning her critical gaze onto the android, "Are you ok or not, Billy?"

Again, shortening my name... Who are these people?

"All systems are operational," he reports anyway, because despite her brash words she sounds worried, "Except my memory banks, apparently."

Side-eye.

Anby's nose just barely scrunches at his tone.

"What do you mean your memory banks?" Nicole prompts, gaze flicking between the two.

"He doesn't remember us."

The Cunning Hares freeze. Silence rules the small space they've tucked themselves into- which... kinda looks like a garage? A nice garage compared to whatever you'd find in the Outer Ring.

Much too nice to be anywhere close to the Outer Ring.

"Where did you take me?"

Nobody answers for a good while.

Until the thiren lets slip:

"...it's so weird to hear you talk like that.."

She shudders from her fluffy ears tips to the sleek finishes of her tails. Were they prosthetics? Why were they blue at the at the base-?

What was wrong with the way he talked?

And why didn't she answer his question-

"Not- not in a bad way!" the thiren is hasty to tack on, "you just... you don't sound happy anymore.."

...happy? He wasn't built to sound happy. He wasn't even supposed to talk much outside status reports and communications. Although- sure, the android often broke that somewhat unspoken rule when Piper and Lucy needed a bit more help to drift off at night, or when Burnice needed someone to bounce a new design off of, or if Lighter was talking about something that happened while he was out in shops, or-

...you got the idea. Caesar hadn't explicitly banned him from talking with the other Sons, not by a long shot, he just- didn't want to push it.

The silence surrounding the ragtag four stretches into something distinctly uncomfortable.

"That.. aside," Nicole- who he assumes is the Boss- eventually starts, "We.. ahem. We got your wound patched up just fine, but... we ended up needing some help to get you back here."

Billy Kid tilts his head.

It made sense, of course, he was an android made of reinforced metal. And while he didn't doubt the strength of these people- especially Anby- he had an itching feeling that their strength was.... not particularly rooted in the weight-lifting sense.

So who-?

"Well. This isn't exactly the reunion I was hoping for."

....there was no way.

Caesar, the Big Sis of the Sons of Calydon herself, walks through the- admittedly abused looking door. Billy Kid shoots to his feet.

And severely underestimates the refractory period required following the repair of a head wound. He stumbles.

A sturdy arm catches his middle with ease.

"Easy, Kid," Caesar reprimands, hauling him back to his feet, "There's no reason to do that, I'm not your boss anymore."

Her words are oddly quiet, as if the other three in the room weren't supposed to hear. Big Sis had always been good at that. Quietly being reassuring without being coddling.

That achingly hollow feeling returns.

From behind Caesar's large frame, he can see the Hares' lower their hands slowly. Their faces are oddly stormy..

Anby bullies her way between them.

"Quite the team you've found yourself, by the way," Caesar continues as if she hadn't, "I'd ask you to fill me in, but.."

...right. Her pale eyes lock onto his, and-

She gives him a single nod of approval. Something loosens in his wiring.

"You'll be alright, Kid."

"Of course he will." Anby cuts in, squaring her small shoulders, "Even if we have to remake all the memories he lost, Billy will always be a member of the Cunning Hares."

And-

Billy finally believes it.

#you can also pry Lichtenburg Anby out of my dead hands actually #I'M BACK Y'ALL #zenless zone zero #zzzero #zzz #zzz fanfic #cunning hares #sons of calydon #billy kid #zzz billy #billy kid zzz #zzz nicole #nicole demara #anby demara #nekomiya mana #caesar king #burnice white #luciana de montefio #piper wheel

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optimizche · 2 years

Text

Missing (Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon) [Part 9]

Warnings: Dubcon. ANGST. Violence.

It ached everywhere, you realized, almost as if your body had been bent unnaturally. Each muscle pulsed with exhaustion, your mind registering a delicious soreness nestled in between your legs. Memories of your night tugged your lips into a soft smile, a sigh leaving you as you made to rise from your bed to greet Jacaerys at the breakfast table.

Except, you couldn't move.

Scraps of silk remained wound taut around your wrists and ankles chafing against your delicate skin.

Your eyes flew open.

Awareness came at a startling rapidity, your eyes wide, darting around the room, taking in your surroundings. The room was bathed in the amber light of a fire crackling away in the hearth, scarce and minimal in its decor.

You realized that you weren't in Winterfell anymore, the epiphany affirmed by the sound of footsteps approaching towards the room and your eyes being greeted by the sight of Aemond Targaryen, standing in the doorway, giving you a small, tentative smile, holding something that looked like a dress in his hands. Blood filled with instant and overwhelming rage, you stared at him.

"I hunted down hare for our dinner," he informed you in a hesitant voice and you felt your anger rise tenfold.

"You abducted me," you spoke, seething. "Remove my restraints right this second."

Aemond's eye widened at the sheer venom laced in your voice but he made no move to untie you from the bed, where you lay, completely bare.

"Did you force yourself on me while I was unconscious?" you asked, voice rising with every word, fearing the worst. "Or do you plan on violating me while I am awake?"

The hurt that crossed the one-eyed Prince's face was priceless and he looked ashamed, like you had struck him.

"Is that how low you think of me?" he asked, taking a step towards you.

"Well, given that you are an adulterer, have attempted to slay your own kin and abducted me in the middle of the night, there is not much that I expect from you and your steadily deteriorating morality," you hissed.

He remained silent, shutting his eye for a moment, as if in contemplation, before walking over to the bed and calmly beginning to untie your restraints. "Consider this a gesture of my goodwill."

The moment he managed to release your left arm, your hand swung at him, landing a swift slap on his cheek.

"Fuck you and your goodwill!" you spat, watching his skin redden where you had struck him, your free hand quickly unfastening the bindings on your other hand and ankles as he stayed stunned by your blow. "You are just as rotten as your rapist brother."

At the mention of Aegon, Aemond's lips hardened into a thin line. "But that didn't stop you from kneeling before him to beg for clemency towards my children, did it?" came his swift retort.

"Why you-"

"You did it out of love for me, did you not?" Aemond asked, a smile slowly forming on his face.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, pushing past him as you stood up from the bed, trying to look for a way to escape, uncaring of the way he was looking at your bare skin. "Full of yourself, as ever, I see."

He made an attempt to reach out for your wrist but you pulled away from him. "Do not touch me, you vile creature. Your actions disgust me."

"My actions disgust you?" Aemond asked, now frankly amused by your words. "And what of the time you decided to write those letters to every House of the Seven Kingdoms?"

"It was the truth wasn't it?"

"Betraying your childhood friend in a manner so cruel and you think you are any better than me," he said, his tone taunting. "It isn't surprising that you've taken up with that bastard Strong."

It was upon hearing the mention of Jacaerys from Aemond's lips that made you laugh as you turned to look around for a door to escape.

"Jacaerys has more kindness in his little finger than you have in your entire being, Aemond Targaryen. And don't forget that you've fathered bastards with your sweetling sister Helaena-"

"ENOUGH!"

The sudden rise in the exiled Prince's voice made you flinch, for never in your entire life had you heard him speak to you in such a way.

You stared at him with astonishment, understanding how rare it was for Aemond to lose his composure so openly. For as long as you had known him, he had kept his feelings repressed, never once letting his anger show.

It made you realise the depth of the wound you had inflicted upon him. It shouldn't have made you care, but somewhere, deep down, you did.

"I've hurt you, haven't I?" you asked.

He remained silent for a while, seemingly ashamed of his outburst before responding.

"Yes-"

"Good," you interrupted him, sneering. "That was precisely my intention."

He sighed, long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down on the bed, leaving you to roam around the room restlessly.

"Where have you brought me?" you asked, trying to look out the window, only to be greeted by the complete darkness of the night.

When your question remained without any response, you turned to him. "Did you abduct me to take me back to King's Landing as your hostage? Hoping that your brother will grant you a pardon? Thinking that you will be reinstalled as Prince?"

Upon hearing your barrage of accusations, Aemond looked positively horrified. "I would never trade you in for securing my position. Aegon was always looking for a reason to be rid of me and you presented it to him on a silver platter."

You crossed your arms across your chest indignantly. "The day you climbed into bed with your brother's wife, you sealed your own fate. Don't blame me for your follies."

"For how long does this have to go on?" Aemond asked after a prolonged silence. "For how long will you keep trying to hurt me for hurting you in our childhood?"

Hearing the agony in his voice, you kept quiet, the burning anger in your heart against the one eyed Prince somewhat extinguishing. He did look genuinely pained.

"I left you for Helaena and to claim Vhagar, that was my mistake, I confess it. And I am sorry for letting you go," he said. "But for how long are you going to keep trying to exact revenge for what I did? When does it end?"

"It ended for me when I sent the last of those letters," you admitted, turning to stare into the flames burning in the fireplace, wishing so desperately for your own dragon to be here. "Helaena was merely an acquaintance to me and I only asked for Aegon's mercy because your children with her are innocent. I feel nothing for you, Aemond."

"Is that true?" he asked, and you could hear him approach you with quiet footsteps. "You feel nothing for me in your heart?"

You swallowed thickly. "Nothing," you affirmed, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

"Liar."

The word came soft as a breath against your ear and you almost jumped, his proximity startling you. Turning away from him, you made to walk away only to have his arm wrap tightly around your waist. Holding you flush against him.

"Aemond-"

"Look at me," he said, his other hand removing the patch that covered his lost eye.

Resolutely, you kept your gaze fixed on the fireplace.

Until his hand gently yet firmly grasped your jaw, turning your face to meet his eye. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

You remained silent, waiting. Hoping that he would not be able to hear the thundering of your heartbeat.

"Do you truly feel nothing for me?"

"I've moved forward with Jacaerys," you responded. "He loves me, respects me and makes me happy. He's kind and he cares for me."

A small smile tugged at Aemond's lips. "That was not my question, ñuha dōna rūklon."

Ñuha dōna rūklon.

My sweet flower.

His name for you, the one he had given you during one of your High Valyrian lessons in your childhood.

"No…" you shook your head, tears pooling in your eyes at the sudden remembrance of the name, upon hearing it in his voice after so many years, bringing with it a storm of memories you had chosen to forget. Of all your happy times with the boy who had grown to become a stranger. "No."

"I know when you lie to me, dōna rūklon," he said. "I learned to read you before any written word."

"No!" you cried out, roughly pushing away from him to sit down on the bed once more, your eyes blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. "You cannot just call me by that name and expect everything to repair itself! You cannot manipulate me to do your bidding! Your sweet words will not have me falling into your arms."

"I expect no such thing from you, dōna rūklon," he said, watching as you hastily threw on the cotton dress he had brought in with him upon entering the room. "I only wish to hear you speak the truth."

You ignored him, swiping angrily at your eyes, loathing yourself for showing your vulnerability before him.

"Very well," he said, sitting down on the floor at the foot of the bed. "I shall lead by example, then," he said, taking your hands in his.

You were struck, seeing Aemond Targaryen on his knees before you, his expression one of true remorse.

"I wronged you," he began. "I was so consumed by my want for power that I completely disregarded your feelings for me while you were the only one who was a source of support and strength in my life during the time I was bullied. You deserved to be treated so much better, I see that now. You endured years of the pain I had left behind in your heart, only to have it further worsened when you came to know of my children with Helaena," he said, sounding genuine and sincere. "I wish I could take away your pain just as swiftly as you heal others with your touch."

You closed your eyes at the mention of Helaena and the children, as if trying to shield yourself from experiencing the pain all over again.

"I should have loved you and protected you just as fiercely as you had done for me and I failed you. It was my duty to scour the Seven Kingdoms in search of you when you went missing and I failed you. It should have been me to bring you back home to King's Landing," he said, giving your hands a gentle squeeze, before pressing his forehead to your knees, his head bowed. "I am so sorry, ñuha dōna rūklon."

"Do you honestly believe that a few sentences will make me forgive you for what you did?" you asked, feeling the intense anger that rose in you easing its hold on you, dissolving a little.

"It was my mistake that started all this. We both ended up hurting each other, but I was the one who, in the arrogance of my youth, ended up hurting the person who meant the most to me," he said, his voice slightly muffled by his lips brushing against the fabric on your knees. "I am aware that I am undeserving of your forgiveness, but I am not above begging for it. So here I am, on my knees, ñuha dōna rūklon, pleading for an armistice, if not your grace and your mercy. Please. "

You remained silent for a few moments, letting his apology wash over you, feeling the crushing weight that always wore down your heart lessen ever so slightly. It was then, that you took a deep breath and spoke carefully.

"King's Landing was never my home. I had a family there, but my real home was with you, Aemond Targaryen," you said, running your thumbs across the veins on the backs of his hand. "I had imagined a future with you all those years ago."

Aemond stayed right where he was, on his knees, his head bowed in your lap, the silvery strands of his hair looking golden in the firelight as they splayed all over your knees. He inhaled sharply upon hearing your words.

"You trusted me with a secret I should have held on to and I chose to betray you. I acted in full awareness of the consequences of my actions and ended up separating you from your children… and Helaena. I thought I would feel better after hurting you and taking what you loved most away from you. But I only felt regret and guilt for the children afterwards."

The cotton of your dress that covered your knee felt wet against your skin and it was then that you realised that Aemond Targaryen was crying.

"My actions cut you just as deeply as the time your eye was taken from you and I am sorry for the pain I caused you."

"I deserved it," he sniffled. "It was only a fraction of the torment you went through. Becoming involved with Helaena was an enormous mistake."

"I wish I could have mustered the courage to tell you of my feelings sooner instead of being a meek child. Our lives would have perhaps been drastically different," you said, sighing in contemplation of what could have been, a faraway look in your eyes. "But here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed, lifting his head to look up at you, the tear tracks on his right cheek a confirmation of his tears. "I know you will never betray Rhaenyra and her family."

"I remain loyal to her and her cause. And you will remain forever loyal to your mother, the only one who stood by your side when you had lost your eye," you said, wiping away at his tears. "I'm tired of hurting you and letting you hurt me. It is exhausting, Aemond."

"Then stay with me," he said, leaning into your touch. "We could leave all of this behind and head to the Free Cities to start a life of our own. Start to heal everything that went wrong between us."

A rueful smile found its way to your lips. "I wish I could. But I refuse to become your second choice. Your compromise with life after losing Helaena and your children. I must return to Jacaerys, for I cannot forsake him, just as you need to find your own way."

Aemond's expression mirrored your own, hurt shimmering in his eye as he understood what you were trying to say.

"I know that. You've always been your own woman, dōna rūklon. And for that I am proud of you," he said. "Do you know that it was my sister who led you to me?"

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"She saw it in her dreams, I think, where you were and it was one of the last words she spoke to me… before I was exiled," he finished with a sigh. "Perhaps it was for this, so that I could finally apologize to you."

"I'm sorry," you said, aimlessly tracing along the scars on his eye.

"I'm sorry too, for everything," he said, placing his head back in your lap, reminding you of all the times he had done the same in your childhood.

"You know," you mused. "To have this conversation with me, you did not need to abduct me."

Hearing this, Aemond grinned. "That is true. I have always been exceededingly dramatic and impulsive. Claiming Vhagar on the night of Lady Laena's funeral and then taunting her daughters, chasing Lucerys into a storm, almost killing him if you hadn't managed to distract my out of control dragon."

You poked at his head playfully, as if to reprimand him for his foolishness.

"But Jacaerys, you love him, do you not?" he asked earnestly.

"I… I think I do."

"Well, he is a lucky lad, my nephew," he said. "I'm glad you've found your happiness."

You smiled at Aemond, while your mind screamed at him:

My happiness had been with you!

Seemingly unaware of your remaining internal conflict, Aemond rose to his feet, offering you a hand.

"Come, have supper with me, if it is for the last time."

You felt nausea churning in your stomach at the thought of eating, a sudden exhaustion weighing down your form.

"Are you alright?" Aemond asked before taking on a jesting tone. "I swear the hare is not laced with sleeping draught."

"I'm fine, just not feeling hungry," you smiled reassuringly, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. "I think I will rest for a while."

"As you wish, ñuha dōna rūklon. I shall keep you company," Aemond said, sitting down in an armchair beside the bed. "And tomorrow, as soon as the sun rises, I shall escort you back to Winterfell, to honour our truce."

"Truce?" you asked, confused.

"To abduct you, only to spring an apology after years of pain and expecting your clemency return in a moment is rather unfair of me, don't you think?" he asked. "But I will be eternally grateful if we are, going forward, able to be civil with each other. A truce of sorts, if you will."

"I agree," you acquiesced. "I suppose a truce is the best I can give you at the moment."

"Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, seeing how relieved and grateful the one-eyed Prince looked.

"But before I let you fall asleep, please tell me this: if it weren't for my illicit relationship with Helaena and the existence of my children, would you have chosen me?" he asked, curiosity and expectation dancing on his features.

"I chose you all those years ago, didn't I?" you responded after a beat of silence, surprised by the spasm of pain that twisted his face.

"I absolutely and completely fucked it up, didn't I?" he asked.

"We both did."

The both of you sat in a silence reminiscent of the quiet moments of solitude you had shared under the weirwood tree in your childhood, reading your books.

"What are you going to do now?" you eventually enquired.

"Since I have lost you, I have nowhere else to go," he said, running a weary hand over his face. "I cannot return to King's Landing either. Perhaps I will travel to the Free Cities and become a sellsword."

Hearing this, you found a smile tugging at your lips. "With your silver hair and sapphire eye, people will recognise you anywhere, Prince Aemond. You may be exiled, but your title and infamous looks still remain."

"I know," he sighed. "I've messed that up as well. I truly don't know what the Gods have planned for me."

"Whatever their plan is, I will pray to them to grant you what you desire," you said, lying back down on the bed and letting your fatigue drag your mind into darkness before long.

Aemond sat quietly, his eye never leaving your face as he wondered if you truly knew what he so desperately desired…

Author's note: We're nowhere close to the end! Were just getting started 😉

Part 10

456 notes · View notes

sakustars · 1 year

Text

HEIR

yuuji itadori x gn!reader

sfw; fuff; royal au

a/n: while yuuji and choso’s kingdom is obviously based on japan, the reader’s kingdom and culture is stuff i made up — the names, location, clothing etc. hold no significance to real life. any similarities to irl cultures is purely coincidental :)

the sleigh rumbled through the woods, covered by furs held up by a wooden frame, two kings laughing loudly at the exposed bow, their greatest treasures sheltered in the bed.

just behind them, trying (and failing) to play dice, cubes of painted bone bouncing against the tremors of the sleigh, were their respective first borns. choso, with cheeks pink from the cold, peering out into the frosty wilds, and len, clutching the dice in one hand, and his in her other.

hunkered down in the very back, sat two queens dressed in elegant furs and gloves, with their two toddlers bundled up in their laps.

you were just shy of four years old, this first time you met yuuji. you barely remembered it.

a tiny pink-haired boy, with a red nose and flecks of ice in his left eyebrow. he was pouting, unused to the cold, and the heavy furs he was bundled in. you had reached out with mittened hands, and squished his cheeks between them, and your mother laughed, looking upon the two of you fondly.

by the time the reindeer had turned the sleigh around, directed back towards the large stone castle you called home, the kings had come to an agreement. len would marry into choso’s family, and yuuji into yours. at that time, you had had no idea the face you were messing with was that of your betrothed.

the second time, you were seven.

his family had come to your kingdom once again, to be draped in furs and inundated with hot mulled wine and bask in front of large carved fireplaces at the heart of the stone fortress.

the first night of their stay, len and yourself had been sent to choso and yuuji with the purpose of helping them with their unfamiliar clothing. such a task could have easily been completed by a maid, but your parents grasped at the opportunity for the two couples to interact.

when choso called through the door that you could enter, you set about organising the many layers in order of which should go on first. yuuji stood awkwardly before you, dressed only in a base layer of thin cotton trousers and shirt, shivering from the draught blowing through the room.

you glanced at him as you approached with the first garment, a pair of thick woollen trousers. “make conversation,” your mother had told you.

you helped the pink-haired boy into the trousers, belted his waist, then plucked at the shirt he was wearing. “cotton doesn’t grow up here. we import it from your kingdom,” you muttered shyly, grasping at straws for a conversation topic.

yuuji shifted on his feet, blinking owlishly and turning his warm amber eyes to choso for assistance. “we get meat from your kingdom; weaponry too,” his brother supplied as he helped len pull a rich purple tunic over his head.

this seemed to spark something in yuuji as he turned to you excitedly, padding after you as you returned to the bench where his clothes were laid out. “yes! ven-i-son,” he sounded the word out carefully. “and hare. my father says you hunt it all yourselves.”

you nodded proudly. “yep. we’re good at hunting here, and my father’s the best, because he’s the king. i’m going to be the best when i’m queen, though. lift your arms.”

he did as instructed and you tugged on his tunic, choso and len giggling with each other at your bold declaration. as you set about pulling on shawls and furs, buckling and toggling, the conversation turned to other hobbies, then food, then animals, and by the time he was fully clothed, you felt like you could build a factfile on him.

when you were nine, you travelled to his kindom for the first time. boldly embroidered animal hide and stiff boots were traded for softly patterned yukatas and large, pleated trousers; simple sandals on your feet.

the days were spent lazing with yuuji on the engawa of the large estate, gorging yourself on meats that weren’t plain and salty, but instead served with tangy sauces and fresh garnishes.

yuuji had introduced you to to his friends megumi and nobara. they served at the estate, but personal to yuuji, so the three had grown close. megumi had grumpily allowed you to pet his two guard dogs, and blushed as yuuji garbled on about how he was going to be his personal guard when he was older.

when the evenings encroached, your parents would find you all sprawled out on the floor, deep in sleep, tired out from golden days of playing dice and chasing the koi fish in the grounds’ lake.

after this visit, the event would become annual, alternating which kingdom would host, and each visit would be spent in childlike bliss, growing closer with and exploring the other.

however this easy contentment could not last forever. as you grew older and wiser, taking the turn from child to teen, you had the bitter realisation of your lack of choice in life.

on your fourteenth year, you had spent most of yuuji’s visit locked away in your room, ignoring him and yet frustrating yourself over not seeing him. you were well aware that your anger was misdirected, but the only solution your teenage brain could come up with was to let your feeling run their course, and make reparations afterwards.

the night after yuuji and choso departed, len found you curled up in the mound of furs and wool blankets on your overly large bed. she called your name and you grunted under the blanket hiding your face. “if mother sent you, tell her i’m sorry or something to placate her.”

she must be furious, pacing the grand dining hall lamenting to your father about your stand-offish behaviour. you would apologise later, but right now you needed a moment to wallow in your own guilt. you could barely think of your mother’s stress when the fear of yuuji hating you encompassed all corners of your mind.

the bed dipped as len sat next to you. a soft hand reached and squeezing what shoulder she could reach through your coverings. “she did not send me. i wanted to talk to you myself.”

a beat of silence.

then you lifted the corner of your blanket, a silent invitation. she crawled under, laying forehead to forehead next to you. she wiped away the shining tears pooled at the corner of your eye, then pulled you into a tight hug.

“i’m going to apologise to him next year,” you whispered into her shoulder. “do… do you think he’s angry?” you choked out the question, so terrified of her answer.

“of course not,” she murmured, rubbing your back “i think he might be hurt, though. but he’s a kind boy. if you explain, he will understand. i went through the same thing myself, but choso understood. it will be okay.”

you sniffled crackly the pulled back to rest your forehead against hers once more. “you’re getting married next summer. you won’t be here anymore.” the thought broke your heart. you would start hunting soon, and she wouldn’t be there to see you. she wouldn’t sing you to sleep by the fire, or tease you at the dinner table.

“it will be okay,” she said again.

and, “it will be okay,” you repeated back to her.

the next year you did apologise. and it was okay. yuuji had forgiven you instantly, tugging you close to him and engulfing you in a huge hug, pressing a soft kiss to your temple that had your heart running out your chest, before excitedly pulling you down the emerald lawn to see the new flora that had bloomed in your absence.

he had always been slightly awkward, but so kind and so soft, carrying an undeniable charm that affected you much too greatly and that he was probably unaware of even possessing.

so when you came back to your room after hunting, greeted by a taller, stronger, more confident yuuji, you were unprepared.

unprepared for his rush forward, for his strong arms wrapping around your waist, laughing brightly as a crystal-clear brook as he picked you up and swung you around. unprepared for his undeniably gorgeous face so close to yours as he set you down, his cheeks dusted pink and honey eyes lit up with joy.

you breathed heavily against his chest, gripping his biceps and letting out a choked laugh of your own.

he looked at you with stars in his eyes and you looked at him as though he had hung the moon. shared adoration for one another was choked up in shy teenage throats, building and swelling, to inevitably burst out at any moment.

this moment was not to happen yet. not the next day, when you instructed him in archery, your bodies pressed tight together, your breath rolling against his neck as you positioned his arms. not even the next, as you sat together secretly in front of a kitchen stove, bundled in animal hide, sharing doughy bread loaves, and mead from the same cup.

this moment came an entire year later. the summer you visited yuuji, at seventeen years old, just one year shy of coming of age, and your betrothed’s kingdom was throwing a celebration to commemorate his youth.

you had been dressed by nobara, and an older lady named nitta. the yukata was patterned intricately, a mix of different blues making waves, interspersed with white clouds and pink flowers.

when you stepped into the main hall of the estate, your eyes widened. flower petals, streamers, other people in colourful yukatas moved around the room in some sort of organised hurricane, but throughout the chaos, your gaze was fixed to one person. he hadn’t noticed you yet, looking anxious as he spoke hurriedly to megumi, who was dressed in cranes on a dark blue background.

he stood to the side, leaving enough room for people to pass by him, and he looked a vision. instead of his usual red and yellow coloured clothing, his yukata was light blue, beautifully contrasting the carefully embroidered tigers on his sleeves and back. his hair was the same endearing mess as usual, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears were tinged adorably pink in the hot summer evening.

you gave one last thanks to nobara and nitta, before making a beeline straight towards him. he noticed you as you were ten paces away, his face relaxing as he dashed forwards to meet you.

he gathered you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your cheek before burying his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of your freshly-washed hair. you turned pinker than yuuji was as he kissed your cheek again and gently yet excitedly tugged you towards the dance floor.

you shared many dances with him, taking breaks occasionally where he insisted you sat down, fanned you if he thought you looked too warm, and made megumi bring you water, not wanting to leave your side for even a second.

you danced for some time with nobara, managed to pull megumi in for one dance before he got away, and had a few circle dances with len and choso. he really seemed like a wonderful man, and you were delighted when she told you about how happy she was with him when you sat down together to talk.

but after twenty or so minutes, yuuji started to become antsy, so you bid farewell with promises to continue writing, before taking his hand in yours and leading him along the engawa then down into the gardens. it seemed you came at the perfect time, because as you settled on the bench at the edge of the koi pond, the fireworks started.

other partygoers were dotted around the gardens, but your attention was fixed to the sky, and yuuji’s on you.

your focus was broken as you heard him call your name gently. you turned your head towards him, eyes widening as soft lips landed on your own. it took you a few seconds to gather yourself, by which time he had pulled away confused, a wrinkle in between his brows. you hastily took his face in your hands, kissed it away, then rejoined your lips.

he made a muffled sound of surprise, before returning the kiss with enthusiasm to spare, curling his hands around your waist and nipping at your bottom lip as you one of your hands through his hair.

you pulled away with your chest heaving, though finally you felt like you could breathe. your love for him was no longer festering in your throat, now moved to warm the hearth of his heart, and his love warmed yours.

🪐 a/n: reblogs, likes and comments r very appreciated <3

#starfics🪐#this took way too long oml #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yuujiitadori #jjk yuuji #yuuji itadori #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk royal au #royal au #itadori royal au #itadori fluff #jjk fluff

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grim-wildwood · 14 days

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Karnonos

Matthew Spencer Illustration

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

Family

No known parentage or siblings. Gaulish mythology does not have a structured family line like Greek or Norse mythologies do, which makes Karnonos a standalone entity.

Lovers

No known lovers in original Gaulish myth, but often paired with the Mother (Moon) Goddess in Wicca. From the experience of many witches, Karnonos does not seem picky about who he shares an altar with, and in my personal experience, he seems to have some sort of relationship with Sirona.

Offspring

In neopaganism and Wicca, Cernunnos is the creator and magickal driving force of all living creatures. In traditional paganism, Karnonos is seen more as a symbolic "Father Earth" figure. He did not create all life, but rather, he is all life, and his humanoid image is the simple personification of nature. Again, Karnonos has no strict family lineage due to the nature of his roots.

Epithets

The Horned One

Lord of the Wood

The Holly King

The Green Man (supposedly)

The Antlered God

Notes

Karnonos' major iconographical depictions include antlers, a golden torc, a cross-legged seated position, and a horned snake. Though, more modern depictions have replaced this icon with a banana snake. He may take the physical form of a stag or may appear as the apparition of a man with a stag's head/skull, or simply an antlered man. He is often depicted in simple earth-colored druidic robes with ceremonial or hunting items, such as a spear, drum, or bow.

Karnonos is known to be a steadfast and observational force. He is seen as a mentor-like figure to most and, in Wicca, exudes strong masculine energy. In traditional paganism, Karnonos is a neutral driving force of change and symbolic of the constant natural cycle of life.

Unlike many other deities, there are no surviving myths or stories that specifically detail the actions, family, or adventures of Karnonos. Much of what is known about him comes from iconography, archaeological finds, and later interpretations rather than written records from the Celtic period. The most well-known depiction of Karnonos comes from the Gundestrup Cauldron, a silver vessel dating from the 1st century BCE.

During the Roman period, Karnonos was syncretized with Pan and Silvanus. This further complicated attempts to find Karnonos' true origins.

Correspondences

Herbs & Plants

The Sacred Oak

Mistletoe

Ferns

Mugwort

Holly

Vervain

Rosemary

Ivy

Juniper

Sacred Stones

Moss Agate

Green Aventurine

Jade

Amber

Pyrite

Smokey Quartz

Hematite

Obsidian

Malachite

Tiger's Eye

Petrified Wood

Animals

The Sacred Stag

Bull

Serpent

Boar

Owl

Hare

Offerings

Please always remember to ethically source your offerings, or your offering could deeply offend Karnonos. He loves items sourced from your personal time outdoors. They should be your findings, your earnings, and your hunt.

Moss

Ferns + their leaves

Tree bark

Flowers

Antlers/Bones

Feathers

Fruits

Nuts

Bread/Grain

Honey

Mead/Wine

Herbal offerings (listed above)

Coins

Handmade crafts

Green or brown candles, anointed with herbal oil or scented like the natural land or its bounty

Cedar, pine, dragon's blood or frankincense incense

Devotional acts of conservation, hunting (for sustenance only, no trophy hunting!) or meditation in nature

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

#Deities #witchcraft #witchblr #nature #paganism #cernunnos #celtic paganism #pagan

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briar-ffxiv · 15 days

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FFXIV Write #09 - Lend an Ear

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #9 - Lend an Ear

TW: There is some mention of a dead animal and skinning/cleaning/cooking humanely hunted meat so be warned if that bothers you! It is not descriptive though!

Briar hummed softly as he pushed the skeins of wool into the large wooden tub. It was full of a murky dye that was careful not to touch with his hands. He'd learned last time the 'dangers' of woad so this time it was a smooth stick used to push and stir the wool, making sure it was thoroughly saturated. Once satisfied, he left it be, turning his attention to another tub.

This one held dye from nettles, mixed with a bit of iron, which would result in a lovely grey-green the half-Elezen was fond of. A clean stick was used to push more wool in, pausing to brush his hair out of his face with a forearm. So focused was Briar on his task that he nearly jumped out of his skin when something thumped heavily to the ground behind him.

He spun, ears up and eyes wide. He stared momentarily at the dead stag before looking up at the thick-muscled Viera near it. As always, Liokki looked half-feral with worn armour, smudges of dirt, and his hair full of twigs and leaves. The wary tension he almost always had only added to the impression of something wild. The Viera shifted a bit, toe-claws digging into the soil as he regarded Briar.

"Good morning, Liokki," Briar said softly. "I wish you wouldn't scare me like that," he noted without venom, moving to examine the stag.

"Ya should be alert," the Viera grumbled in a deep, raspy growl of a voice that saw little use.

"I only hear you when you wish it," Briar said, gently running his hand over the stag's pelt. The antelope was a handsome one with fine horns and a sleek coat, although a glance showed a knee that was injured. Likely the reason Liokki had culled it. The former Wood-Warder made a habit of trying to only take beasts that were weakened or injured, mostly to die anyway.

Briar half-expected Liokki to head back into the woods. The old Viera did not seem to crave company, at least often. So he was surprised when Liokki twitched an ear toward him and grunted. "I'll help you clean it."

Briar blinked but didn't argue, just nodding. He checked the dyes, but they would be fine for a while. They needed to sit anyway. With Liokki's help, the deer was quickly dressed and skinned, the meat broken down and moved to hang in the curing shed at the back of his little cottage. It had taken only a little more than an hour with help and Briar now had a fine cut of venison in his kitchen too.

"Will you stay for supper?" the half-Elezen asked, ear perking as he looked up at Liokki again as he headed back to check his dyes.

Liokki seemed to consider a moment before nodding, watching with interest as Briar eased the wool out of the buckets. Putting on gloves, he squeezed the excess out, admiring the change of the woad from pale to green to a deep blue. He was moving to the nettle dye when the Viera spoke again.

"Can you make red?"

"Red yarn, you mean?" Briar asked as he hung up the other wool. "Of course… What kind of red?"

"Bright."

Briar frowned in thought as he finished arranging his wool to dry. "Madder makes a very good red… Did you want some wool or--"

"Leather," Liokki said, amber-brown eyes looking at Briar.

The half-Elezen tilted his head thoughtfully. "I could use the deerskin you just brought. It would take a little while, but--"

Liokki fidgeted a moment. "Can you make it soft? The leather?" he grunted.

"Of course," Briar said slowly, green eyes suddenly narrowing a little. "…Who is this for? You don't wear red."

Liokki's ears flicked back and his jaw tightened stubbornly as he looked away. Briar frowned, folding his arms and waiting. He noticed the big Viera looking down at his often ragged nails, catching a hint of glitter before Liokki also crossed his arms, stamping one foot slightly in a very hare-like display of irritation.

"…Do you want something for E'mal, Liokki?" Briar asked, lips starting to curve in a small smile.

The Viera just grunted loudly, but his short pale tail twitched back and forth, perking up a bit in a display of excitement. Briar pressed a knuckle to his mouth to keep from chuckling. "I see," he said softly instead. "All right. Give me a sennight or so and I will make sure you have some soft, red deerskin, Liokki."

Briar took a breath and blew it out, trying not to smile too much. He was very much ignoring the fact that the insides of Liokki's ears were pink as the Viera slanted him a look. "Now, since you are staying for supper, is there anything in particular you would like?"

"Rice maybe?" Liokki allowed a hopeful note into his voice.

"That sounds perfect. I have some wild rice that would be lovely with it," Briar said, patting the Viera's thick arm gently as he walked by. "Would you also like some mushrooms perhaps? I know they are a favourite."

Liokki nodded, ears finally rising as he trailed behind Briar toward the cottage to start the meal in question. He paused to glance at the dye buckets again and his tail gave an excited little wiggle before he turned to catch up with Briar.

E'mal belongs to @midnightmagicks!

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #character: briar redfeather #character: liokki the hunter #my writing

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heavenlyyshecomes · 1 year

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Ownership seemed transposed. These objects seemed to induce insatiability, to own you, make demands on you. Collectors themselves speak of the intoxication of hunting and buying, a process that could send you towards mania: ‘Of all the passions, of all without exception, the passion for the bibelot is perhaps the most terrible and invincible. The man smitten by an antique is a lost man. The bibelot is not only a passion, it is a mania,’ claimed the young writer Guy de Maupassant. A haunting self-description of this comes in a strange book written by Charles’s scourge, Edmond de Goncourt. In La Maison d’un artiste de Goncourt describes each room of his own house in Paris in painstaking detail–the boiseries, the pictures, the books, the objects–in an attempt to evoke each object and picture and their placement as an act of homage to his dead brother, with whom he had lived. In two volumes, each of more than 300 pages, de Goncourt constructs an autobiography and a travelogue, as much as an exhaustive inventory of a house through objects. Japanese art saturates the house. There are Japanese brocades and kakemonos, scrolls, in the hall. Even the garden is a carefully curated assortment of Chinese and Japanese trees and shrubs. In a moment worthy of Borges, his collection even incorporates a grouping of Chinese art put together by a seventeenth-century Japanese ‘bibeloteur exotique’. There is endless play in de Goncourt’s display between pictures, screens, scrolls on open display and those objects held in vitrines.

—Edmund de Waal, The Hare with Amber Eyes: A Hidden Inheritance

#so sarahcore....#words #the hare with the amber eyes #Edmund de Waal #2023 reads #mine

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theverynothumankai · 1 month

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More About My Nonhuman ‘Types

Theriotypes:

Vancouver Coastal Sea Wolf: They’re a rare, semi-aquatic subspecies of wolf. They live almost entirely/exclusively off of aquatic animals. Personally, my favorite food is salmon. I have lots of reddish-brown undertones, with contrasting dark brown/black fur and warm gray fur. I am very fluffy.

Canada Lynx: They’re one of the four living species in the genus Lynx. They are specialized to hunt snowshoe hare, but can eat other things when that is not abundant. I do adore snowshoe hare. I am quite large and fluffy, with giant paws and legs.

Red Fox: They’re the largest of the true foxes. They live mainly in the Northern Hemisphere, but adapt very well and are seen in many different habitats. They are omnivores, which means they eat both plants and animals. I love birds and eggs especially, but will not deny some tasty berries. I am very friendly towards humans, so I’m a bit domesticated. I am quite fluffy, yappy, playful, and vibrant orange/red.

Nurse Shark: They’re a small, bottom-dwelling, slow-moving shark that is native to Atlantic and Eastern Pacific oceans. They are known to be calm and docile. They eat lots of crustacean, as well as squids, octopi, and some fish species. I am dark brown, long, and very content. I love humans, I love the sea, and my favorite food is squid.

Snow Leopard: They’re a large cat that is native to the mountains of Central and South Asia. They have big paws that keep their weight well distributed on the snow, and their fur is spotted white-grayish. They eat blue sheep, ibex, Himalayan tahr, marmot, pika, hares, small rodents, and game birds. They tend to be alone, they can’t roar, and they are quite nomadic. I personally am gray and white with lots of faded black spots all over, and I’m quite fluffy. My paws are huge, as well as my thick tail. I love sheep loads, and I love rolling around in the snow.

Maned Wolf: They are a large canid native to South America. They have long legs, red coats, and raised black manes. They actually are neither wolf nor fox, but a distinct species. They are omnivores, and they eat rodents, armadillos, birds, eggs, fruits, and plants. I have very long legs, black socks, deep red fur, and am very long and angular. I love birds and plants especially. I will very happily be the creature of your nightmares, but just know I actually quite like to socialize and will definitely cuddle on sight. I love to play with my fellows, and tag is my favorite game in the world.

Norwegian Forest Cat: They are a large long-hair domestic cat bred in Northern Europe. They are known for their muscular builds, diverse colors, and double layered fur. They are known to be tough and able to endure long, cold winters. They eat (or need) high quality animal protein. I’m very fluffy and varying shades of orange, with hints of white here and there. I love the snow, the outside, and climbing things. Fish is my favorite, and I love hunting them and mice too.

Coyote: They’re are a medium-sized wild canid which is native to North America. They are nocturnal, and hunt in packs. They are very visual predators, but also use scent and hearing. They are omnivores, eating both meat and plants/fruits. I love howling and the night sky, and playmates. Humans spook me a bit, but I also am curious towards them and often test my limits interacting with them. I have reddish brown, with gray and white here and there. My ears are pretty big. I love the rain.

Side-Striped Jackal: They are a canine native to Africa. They specifically dwell in woodland and scrubs. They are omnivores, and they eat insects, fruits, small vertebrates, carrion, and plant material. I love howling, the night, and I have incredibly large ears. Thunderstorms scare me, and I love the woods. Humans are my best friends, and I am incredibly playful. Carrion is my favorite.

Dhole: They are a wild dog native to Asia. They are known to be great swimmers, runners, and jumpers. They have auburn fur, amber eyes, black tails, and upright rounded ears. They are hypercarnivores, and over 70% of their diet is meat. Personally, I love deer and rabbits. My face and neck is very fluffy, my coat is thick, and my eyes are gentle. I feel a lot of peace and contentment as a Dhole.

Kintypes:

Raccoon: I look like a regular raccoon, but with small gold feather wings behind my shoulders and little straight gold horns at the top of my head. I love human junkfood and sweets, so chips and ice cream. I also adore fruit. I am very fluffy and pretty darkly colored.

Dragon: I’m a SeaWing/SilkWing hybrid, and I grew up around SkyWings/was raised by SkyWings. I have dark blue, almost black, scales with hints of purple in them. I have webbed talons, gills that allow me to breathe under water, and antenna with fins on them that I use to sense vibrations in the water. I have bright white glow-in-the-dark scales all over my body, as well as bright white glow-in-the-dark freckles on my snout and spots and stripes on the edges of my wings. I have four wings that are the shape of SeaWing wings, and I grew up with wing buds like SilkWings do. I’m a vegetarian, but will eat meat if I must. I love the sky, and flying, and I often forget that I’m not a SkyWing due to being raised by them and treated the same as them. I am a great fighter due to being raised by them, though. I’m also a great swimmer since my wings allow me to have more momentum. I cannot spin silk, but can speak aquatic. I mostly am in the sea now, because my SkyWing family is now gone/out of my life somehow.

Dragon: I’m a Night Fury/Light Fury hybrid. I can shift the colors of my scales to be either white or black (or along that spectrum) for camouflage or preference. When I’m not using them for camouflage, they’re usually a combination of white and black. I love the sea, the snow, and fish. I love to loaf, play with humans, and play in the mud. I had really bad tears in my right wing, which rendered me incapable of flying for quite a bit, until humans patched me up and I was able to heal and eventually fly again. I’m not too sure if I have a rider or not, but I do know I like to hang around humans.

Dark Fey: I’m a Forest Dark Fey, from the Maleficent movies/universe. I have dark brown wings, brown horns, pointed ears, and love the forest with my whole soul. I find peace in trees, love my fellow Fey, and adore to fly.

Avian: I’m a feather-winged human-looking creature with a feather tail as well. I’m still not sure what my wings/feathers look like, but I do know I enjoy flying really high in the sky and running around on all fours.

Hearttypes:

Whale Shark: They’re the largest known species of fish, and are endangered. They’re found in tropical oceans around the world, and are known as gentle giants of the sea. They eat krill, jellyfish, and crab larvae. I see them as my family, and I would protect them with my life. I wish I was one, sometimes feel I may be, but know I am not. I love them loads.

Flickertypes:

Hylian: Hylians are a race of humans, although they are different from them. Hylians have pointed ears, are usually shorter, and have some magical abilities too. I mainly look like myself, except with pointed ears and am much more adventurous and nomadic.

Orphinki: Orphinki are an OC species of mine. They’re like large lizards, except with feather manes, wise eyes, extra long tails, and colorful scales. They live for hundreds of years on average, and there are many types of Orphinki seen in many different habitats/environments. I am a Woodland Orphinki, have green scales and green and brown feathers, and love to eat fruit. I don’t like humans, but more in an afraid of them way.

Sable: They’re a species of marten, they’re fairly small, and they’re omnivores. They’re found in the forests of Asia. They eat smaller mammals and hares, as well as other things. I’m quite small, have little black and white markings on my face, and love to eat hare. I am ferocious, yet playful and friendly at the same time. I will bite you very hard, but it is purely friendly 90% of the time.

Owl: I’m all kinds of owls, but often connect with the bigger species, and the Barn and Snowy owls. I love to hunt (mice especially), I love the night, and I’m fairly curious of humans.

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