#this is what the Elusive Dark Teal was for

[yarnnerd]

Progress on my current project: a teal Star Trek TNG jumpsuit

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ━ㅤ ㅤ dean winchester.

the tale of the king of hell and the sweet angel with flowers in her hair.

a hades & persephone retelling through the veiled, handcrafted lens of demon!dean and angel!reader, addressed as persephone, fem pronouns.

content warnings. sexual implications and elusions. that's it lol it's relatively tame!

word count. 6.1k

the woods were always a safe space for him. they existed in every location on the mortal plane; some big, some small, some haunting, some inviting. it brought him great comfort that something could be so vast and sometimes vitriolic and still be loved and adorned by someone by the likes of her.

she was the manifestations of everything innocent. she was a daydream; wisps of wind carrying flower petals of creams and teals, of pinks and violets. all of which stemmed from the plucked flowers tangled and vined in her hair.

she was always alone, this girl of flowers. dropped down from heaven itself, he knew ━ in the same way that he knew her woods were the big, inviting kind. inviting to everyone but himself.

the underworld was dark and icy, so cold sometimes that blue flames licked upon skin and burned it raw, frostbite staining each orifice blue in its wake. but here, with her, it was always so warm. he did not understand the phrase burn in hell when all he wanted, really, was to burn with her.

he watched her for a long time. every day, the same spot, all by her lonesome. he could see her wings even as they were tucked beneath the skin of her shoulder blades, her entire being painted in an innocence that longed to be scorned.

in the end, it was not him that approached her, but rather her that approached him. cream colored fabric caught in the pollen-scented air that wafted through the branches and got caught in the leaves. strands of her hair tangled in front of her eyes, petals dancing behind her like a trail of pure magic.

"what is it that you long for?" she asked him, and it was such a strange question, such a strange scenario. a creature made of darkness and corruption and everything vile did not often get asked what it was that they longed for, and it was even less often that such things that they wanted were women with buried themselves in flower fields and made friends with the bees.

as such, he did not answer her. he chose to bypass her question entirely and take it upon himself to ask her something. his hand reaches out to grasp a stray petal from the silky hive that was her hair. "it is not smart to approach strangers in secluded places."

"it is hardly secluded," she said as fast, her lips forming a soft 'o' as she blew the delicate magenta petal from his two fingers. "no part of the woods is ever solitary."

she is naive, he thinks, and the naive ones are always the most fun. but there is a part of him that does not long to break her spirit, so long as he can instead nurture it and make it grow. if he was capable of such things. "i suppose you mean the creatures that lurk in the bushes?"

"the wind," she corrects, her head tilting up to absorb the impact of it. again, it tosses her hair, knocks the flower petals woven in the strands loose. her silken dress is one with the wind itself, the fabric catching the gusts and bottling them as it dances in its fingers. "it carries secrets, if you listen close enough to hear them."

and he could not help himself. "what does the wind tell you of me?"

her head tilts to the side. his world, spun on its axis, watching him right back. "that we are alike."

she could not be more wrong. she was made of clouds and goodness, constructed in the very nature of virtue. he was of sin and shadows, dark and broken, feasting off of the innocence that she radiated like a pheromone. he opens his mouth to say so, but she does not let him.

"i know you are not of this world," she continues, slowly, as if she's convinced that this is information that should frighten him that she knows; not something that intrigues him greatly. "like i imagine you know that of me, too."

he does not give a solid answer, but the slightest quirk of his lips is enough to bring a flicker of mischief into her eyes. "what is it like?"

what a peculiar question from a girl made of stardust and glitter, drawing every bit of light toward her like a beacon. he could not play naive to this, or act innocent in the terms of her question, because she had already taken those roles and embodied them perfectly.

"dark," he says, leaning ever-so-slightly closer with each word, "foreboding. lifeless."

he expects that word to drown her spirits. he expects to see the hope floating away in the river's stream, swallowed whole as it glittered beneath the water's surface. instead, she sparkles brighter, her smile wider. "do you believe in fate?"

he balks. "i believe in nothing at all."

"perhaps you should take me there," she says, tugging the loose petals from her hair and letting them rain on the grass. she still looks as wild and free as ever, perhaps even more so, without the reins of life and nature holding her back. "and i will give you something to believe in."

try as she might, it was all for naught. he believed in her so desperately already that he might as well be the drowning thing in the river. perhaps that was why it did not glitter at all.

she called herself persephone, and she called him dean, though that was not what the servants of the underworld and the demons beneath him called him. they called him hades ━ master of cruelty, harbinger of the dead.

it meant justice, where she was from, high above in the clouds with the other things crafted from perfection and innocence. it was not a name out of love, but one out of duty. he told himself this, because there was no chance that someone like her could ever reach into his heart and cradle it between her palms.

persephone had a room, closest to his, and he hated to admit that he considered locking it with a chain every night, lest she realize her mistake and want to go back to her life of oak trees and soft-petaled flowers.

but the heavy door never nudged in the days that she stayed alongside him, and the darkness seemed to hold its breath around her.

"does it not get dreary?" persephone asks upon waking up, her eyes glittering so brightly in the bleak underworld that she stood out like the beacon he believed her to be. always calling him to her.

dean's eyebrows raise a fraction. her mind formulates thoughts that she does not share, until her mouth splits open to speak questions he does not know the context of. "is death not supposed to be dreary?"

he is very good at giving her the answers she does not want. her lips contort into a blatant frown, puffed in a pout of rose petals, and her eyebrows furrow like aggravated caterpillars on her face. "it is a necessity in the life cycle. all things necessary are beautiful."

"you are a dreamer, persephone," he says dismissively, because there's an odd feeling warming his cheeks and the back of his neck. warmth. how odd it was to feel warmth that didn't scald or burn, but soothed. "i await the day that your dreams shatter to pieces."

the pout deepens. angry pink petals curled downward enough to wrinkle her smooth skin. "that is an awful thing to say."

"i would pick up every shard," dean interrupts, their eyes finally locking, "and i would put them back together, no matter how long it takes."

"i have many dreams, dean."

dean does not back down, still. "and i have many centuries."

their stares do not falter. they hold and they hold, like hands tightly woven together in secret, clutching like they might be ripped apart at any point. dean was certain nothing could take persephone from him now, what with how desperate he was for the life she brought.

"your world is cold," she says simply after what feels like eternities in of itself, "and incapable of fostering life."

an astute observation. the words fell from her lips with icy breaths punctuating between them. "i did warn you," he speaks slowly, like this time it is she that needs to have it explained to her, "that this was not a place for angels like you."

he did not warn her of such directly, no. but is scaring off someone and warning someone not the same?

"i am not the life that needs fostered," she waves her hand, her eyes dancing around her surroundings mindlessly. the blackstone countertops of his housing chambers, the metal chairs that did nothing but breed discomfort. all of it was dysfunctional ━ display pieces, in a way, so that he may feel an ounce of humanity again in his dead soul.

her finger reaches out to poke his chest. firm in her movements and her judgements. "it is you." persephone's chin tilts up in her defiant arrogance. "and how lucky you are to have me to guide you."

dean forgot, in his haste to keep persephone, that other people were capable of loving her just as vehemently as he did. it was only a matter of time before something went awry in your absence, and people began to wonder where the angel dusted in pollen and petals had floated away to.

he just did not expect it to be so soon.

a month passes, and suddenly his home is littered in gold. she is a radiant light, everything she touches bursts into life ━ and so the dark home that he'd come to know, with its dim sconces and brooding towers, has become one with light through the gaps of the windows. fresh candles that smell like daisies and lavender are placed in the caged sconces.

maybe he should be angry that she is turning his kingdom of darkness into something so alive. but all dean has ever wanted was a touch of life, and not so much death. it was something that he only began to crave when he spotted her in the woods, surrounded by living things that responded to her touch.

there is an angel at his door, and it is not the one he wishes for.

he senses it like a sixth sense; something amiss in his territory. the wind before a storm, twisting and twisting and setting everything off balance. and the silence is unlike anything he's heard before, in a place as damnable as his home.

dean exits his room with his spine rigid, booted steps heavy on the hollow stone. acts like this are not taken lightly. acts so disrespectful are met with wings hung over his throne, bloodied muscle still attached to their delicate bones.

"persephone," the angel says from the center of his throne room, without turning over their shoulder to look at him. another act of disrespect. "is... where?"

dean's steps echo in the empty room as he circles the angel. predator and prey. neither of which give any indication on who they believe the other to be, in that manner. "is none of your concern."

"you have taken an angel from a place of life and virtue and thrown her into a dungeon of death and decay," the angel snaps back at him, their teeth bared in a harsh snarl. their true form threatens beneath the surface of the vessel they wear. down here, it is much harder to keep up appearances. "it is obvious that it is our concern."

the idea of persephone being locked away sent his stomach churning. how dare anyone think that he would ever try and stifle her light? not when she is cultivating her craft and turning his home into something that is alive.

dean drops into the throne in the center of the room. flames lick to life at the first contact between him and the granite. the angel does not falter at the sight, and dean's jaw ticks because of it. "if you think she is unsafe, find her."

the angel's eyes narrow. "is this a game to you?"

"i guarantee it is not." how could he ever imagine this situation as a game, when the very root of his life is being threatened to be stolen back from him? "find her."

dean knows where she is. in her room, across the narrow hallway from his. her door is shut, but he could smell the flickering flames smelting in her fireplace, warming her from the underworld's pitch black coldness. dean knows she is safe, writing on the parchment he'd gotten for her, detailing her days and thoughts into permanence.

the angel flickers away, out of his sight. dean is left alone with his own thoughts. his, he does not want to memorialize. his stay in the creeping corners of his mind, tucked away to keep his persephone safe. not that he did not believe she could handle a little darkness; she was the one that asked him to come here, after all.

it feels like an eternity that the angel is gone. dean fears, in the very depths of his soul, that they have taken her without a warning or a trace. he'd burn them. all of them. he'd take their wings and decorate the halls of his kingdom with their feathers. he'd . . .

flickering into view is the angel, with persephone clutched between their grip. her face is contorted into that fiery expression he'd come to expect from her, defiance born in her very blood.

it was no wonder that the angels wanted to leash her. she was not like them. she was composed of flame and fury, and radiated it like she was the sun itself. dean was always so captivated by her, but it was times like this when he could not look away.

"what have you done to her?" the angel tosses the accusation dean's way like the words sicken them. again, their true form flickers just behind their eyes. at least dean was a beast that wore his skin without the skin of a lamb atop of it.

dean's fingers steeple beneath his chin. "explain."

"she does not want to come back." the angel's eyes narrow onto him, unspoken allegations swimming in their expression. "there is no reason that someone so full of life would want to bury their feet into the death and darkness of your home."

it is selfish that his heart swells at those words. does not want to leave his home. his initial worries that he would have to say goodbye to her melt away like the ice frosting over his stone walls.

"that is not true," persephone interjects, and dean stills. waits for the clarification on what wasn't true. "i do want to go home."

they say that if you love something, you must let it go. dean did not understand it. never before had he loved anything, and the prospect of releasing this precious jewel to the real world has him feeling like he's about to burst from his skin. how was he supposed to let her go? how was he supposed to . . .

panic flares the fire surrounding his throne, his fists curled into tight balls against his palms. "then you may leave."

persephone's expression shifts, her eyes flicking over to dean. hurt mares that beautiful face, her eyebrows furrow deeply, valleys between them, lines burnt into the stone. "you do not listen."

"you have made it clear," dean cannot keep the hurt from his own voice, either, "that is what you want."

it was foolish for someone like him to be irate that someone like her did not want to be around him. persephone were gold and he was ash; she were fire and he was stone.

but perhaps he'd grown used to having someone lively around amongst all of this death. perhaps the prospect of her being in his space had begun to feel less like an invasion and more like laws of nature.

death could not exist without life. life could not continue without death. it was as natural for him to crave persephone like the moon longed for the sun.

"i want choice," persephone says loudly, her voice carrying throughout the hollow throne room. "i want to not be contained."

dean straightens in his seat. "and have you felt that i've been containing you, persephone?"

she holds his gaze for a long while. so long that he sees the fire in her eyes, watches it dwindle to ash in the shore of her irises. "you have never done anything awful to me."

"i do not believe such words," the angel interrupts, their lips curled into a sneer. "manipulation is part of who he is, persephone, and you are caught right in his snare."

dean is about to lunge. his nails bite into his skin, blood pools in four glossy red crescents on his palms, with the effort it takes to not bury his fists into the cheekbones of the angel's face.

it is her eyes that keep him steady. persephone's eyes, always so open and honest. he'd mistaken her for naive when what he really saw, initially, strength. warm, like a hug. burning, like passion.

he slumps back into the throne again, his curled fists breaking open and shattering like they'd never been built for violence at all.

"he has no snare," persephone's voice is soft. flower petals brushing across his calloused knuckles, a lover's caress. "he is a product of the underworld, an image crafted to maintain his reputation. you do not know him like i have come to."

dean did not believe a lot of what she said, himself. he was not just an image of violence and cruelty; it was who he was, still, with everyone but her. his persephone.

"your mistake is that you think i am vulnerable enough to get caught in any trap," she continues, and those eyes reignite and burn as they land on the angel that clasps her wrist. "i am not a damsel, or a lamb. i am a fire burning, and you are in my way."

persephone was a fire burning. those were the two words that she'd picked for herself, when she began to acclimate to the life below the surface. she burnt trees and flowers, singed them to ash and blew them away like the seeds of a dandelion.

she had it all, up above. life burst from her fingers, the sun beat down on her and made her burst. flowers wove themselves into her hair, stems tangled in the strands, her fingertips always smelled of pollen, and she could taste the season changes on her tongue with how familiar their flavors were.

but someone that was made of life was never truly alive. she only saw things grow, cultivated them, and where was the satisfaction in it, if she never got to see them die? what was the point of life if it never ended?

the god of death had been watching her for a long while. she felt the decay long before she ever saw him, her flowers wilting and the grass turning wheat brown and crunchy beneath her green-stained knees.

life was always intrigued by death. death always craved life. she found herself drifting up to him without an ounce of fear, even as his eyes swirled with a darkness beyond her knowledge. angels were naturally contemptuous of demons like he was, but she was no typical angel, and he was no typical demon.

it'd been her plan, really, from the moment that she first sensed the burn of his gaze upon her, threatening to drain her life source from its very core, to get him to steal her away. she was exhausted with giving life to everything around her, and not ever getting to feel that thrill of something new and exciting herself.

the god did not put up much of a fight to her troublesome idea, and that was the moment that persephone realized that she had chosen right. it took nothing for him to be convinced of her purpose and her potential, whereas there was not a soul that paid her any mind unless her efforts began to slip.

she'd never felt as alive as she did walking amongst the dead, and not only because of the obvious, but because it was new. a purpose. the souls that were trapped beneath the mortal grounds did not need to live like they were entombed in eternal winter.

persephone was a fire burning in the icy pits of hell, daring to melt away its harsh exterior and warm it, starting with the man that believed her capable of such.

"what is this?" she asks upon entering into his throne room, her eyes bursting open like blooming flowers at the sight. his throne, a towering mass of obsidian once in the center of the room, was now shifted. and next to it was... "for me?"

a granite throne of smaller stature, engraved with vines and thorned flowers. lesser demons worked on it without stirring at her arrival, though their rigid backs gave way that they sensed her. she was the sole thing with a heartbeat in this kingdom, it was impossible not to.

her beloved dean sat on the big arm of his own throne, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing on the working demons, lips curled in utter focus. but the moment her voice rang out, the black depths of his eyes melted into the green she'd gotten to familiarize herself with. the green just for her. "if you wish it to be," he says nonchalantly, as if having a throne built just for her was some idle task.

"you do not have to go to such lengths for me," persephone insists, "i am merely a guest in your home."

his eyes narrow. not long ago had that angel invaded the underworld and tried to drag her away. spouting nonsense about the god's manipulation of her, turning her vision rose-tinted and blind. the angels did not know that she had manipulated the god into bending to her will. "you are not merely a guest if you wish to be more."

"that is a bold offer," and she almost calls him dean, but she refrains in front of his subjects. that name is reserved for them and them only. his vulnerability is hers to cherish.

dean's head nods once. "and you are a bold girl."

her heart swells. the hollow thud of tools on stone echoes throughout the room for endless moments while she watches him, stares into those eyes that only deepen for her.

"leave at once," he commands, his voice cold and crafted of ice. dean's eyes, though, do not freeze over into black as they stay locked with hers.

the subjects scramble to their feet and disappear into the open archway of the throne room, out of sight. in a blink, it is just persephone and the devil, his gaze crafted of marble and as warm as a hearth.

no, he is not capable of manipulating her or breaking her. but she is capable of shattering him. he is lucky she would never want to hurt him. she is lucky that his heart thaws just for her.

"i will tell them to dispose of it if you do not want it," dean says, his voice like warm honey compared to the frosty interior. "i only thought that it would be nice. to have you around when i am not available to keep you company."

persephone shakes her head. "i love it," she answers, her eyes falling back onto it. it is everything she loves at once. the harshest flowers, the cruelest thorns ━ blackstone carvings of the balance between life and death.

dean can read her like a book. his eyes stay locked onto hers for any flicker of change in them. "there is something else." his jaw ticks. "say it."

"i am afraid."

the words come so easily that she does not feel the need to sugarcoat them, or to bury the truth beneath flowery words. though his reaction is unexpected. a flinch mars his expression.

she feels guilty at once.

"oh," is all he says, and the soft utter of the one syllable alone has her reeling to make this right.

"not of you," she says quickly, desperate to get the hurt out of his beautiful eyes. "never of you." dean stays looking unconvinced. "i am afraid," she starts again, backtracking on her words so that they might sound better this time, "of how a throne for me will be perceived."

dean's expression hardens and tightens. it takes seconds for him to become a man of marble ━ harsh lines deepen the contours of his face, expression unyielding and unmoving. he is the god hades, then, and not her dean.

instead of responding, his head jerks in gesture to the throne. not hers, but his. the one that he sits on the arm of, and not in. the one that does not belong to her, and that has probably never felt the presence besides its god's.

persephone's feet carry her to it, anyways, as if her body has not realized, yet, the implications of it all. her fingers dance along the glossy stone of the empty arm, expecting it to be icy and finding it warm.

she sits upon it, and it bursts into flame.

dean does not flinch away from the wisps of fire, though. they do not touch him. as she thought, the fire adheres to him, the throne answers to him ━ and it appears to answer to her, too.

"you are as much of a queen," he mutters as his head dips down, lips brushing on the curve of her ear, "as i am a king."

persephone cannot move, stuck in the trance that was the burning in his eyes. dean leans closer, and she does not move. his breath is warm and full of life on her skin. "it is yours if you want it to be. all of this is yours."

she has never wanted something more than to mean something. to have a place amongst death as life always should. her lips part to say so, but three words interrupt her, stopping her heart in between her ribs. "i am yours."

it is incredible, persephone thinks, to be loved. to not feel too inadequate to deserve it. to be herself, and to be enough.

his hand falls on her cheek, and hers lifts to trap it there, caging his love before it can run out of her like sand in an hourglass. and before she knows it, she's leaned up enough to kiss him.

his mouth tastes like frosted pomegranate and sin. his tongue breaks through the barrier of her lips like he's craved her for so long that he knows exactly what to do now that she is here.

life unto death. life undoes death.

he keeps her face between his palms like she is something precious as he makes the moves to stand. he is between her legs, then, his fingers trailing up the dress she wears, tucking beneath its hem.

she does not stop him. his fingers land on her inner thighs. she does not stop him. he sinks to his knees in front of her, a king bowing at his own throne, surrendering.

persephone's mouth parts in blooming anticipation. his hands push her knees apart, the thin fabric of her dress's skirt pooling in between the open space. and there dean is, her dean, as warm as he is frozen, thawing at the touch of her.

"i know you do not fear fire, my beauty," he whispers, his voice as rough as gravel as he looks up at her through his eyelashes, "so burn for me."

and then he buries his face between her legs, and she bursts into flames.

"i had this made for you," dean says upon entering their shared space. she is sprawled underneath silken burgundy sheets, completely bare, still, from the previous night. and the one before that. she has not left his bed or made any attempt to.

all he wears is a wrap of black cloth around his waist, hair damp from a shower, the smell of soap billowing around the room like smoke. and in his hands is a crown.

ruby red roses wrap around the base. the sharp points are thorns. deep green vines wrap around it in its entirety. it is sharp, deadly, and it is beautiful.

the sheets pool at her lap as she sits up, her lips parted in her awe. it is beautiful. it is everything he views her as, she knows, because he does not let her forget that she is as fierce as she is soft. she is thorns and she is roses.

dean crosses the space to nestle the crown into her hair. his knuckles trail down her cheek, a soft caress, softness that stays reserved for them.

"you look beautiful wearing your power atop your head," he mumbles mindlessly, his eyes searching her expression for any sort of reaction. but she is struck wordless. there is no magic in a crown made of thorns and bloody petals, but there is magic within her now that she wears it. an irrevocable strength that does not waver.

she reaches up to touch it, fingertips dancing along the jagged points of the thorns. her finger pricks, the sting making her blink in her surprise. how long had it been since she'd dealt with pain? since she'd seen it in her very eyes?

"when you are presented tonight, to my court," dean continues, his knuckle locking beneath her chin and tilting it up higher so she may meet his eyes, "you will wear it."

the fear of being rejected by his people and his subjects is now nothing but a wobbly line pretending to be a towering wall. she had broken past those worries, shattered them into rubble and dust, the moment that he'd kissed her.

like he knows that such an act will solidify her and her feelings, he presses his mouth to hers. warm, as always. everything in the underworld, now, is becoming warm and hearty.

persephone grabs at the cloth wrapped around his waist to drag him in closer. her hands slide around the expanse of his thighs and pull, pull until his knees meet the feathery soft mattress and he is atop her.

"i will never take it off," she vows on his lips, letting him swallow their truth.

dean's lips quirk into the kiss. "already fitting perfectly into your role."

━

persephone's throne is collecting dust, now, from the disuse. dean has insisted that she sit in his lap on his throne from the very moment that they'd first gotten together, and persephone was never one to argue with what he wanted when it was what she, too, did.

his people do not like her. it is evident in their sneers and their irritation. but it is not her job to make them accept her. it is theirs to come to terms with, when she stays.

dean's hand trails up her thigh, his palm leaving shivers with each pass, raising higher beneath the hem of her black satin dress. thorned vines wrap around her legs, thorns blossoming down the center path of the room from each step she took.

she is life and she is death. and most importantly, to her, she has found a purpose within his courts.

"you must not falter if they speak ill to you," he whispers into her ear, peppering the words along her skin in between kisses, "you must show them the queen that i know you to be."

it was reassurances that persephone did not need. she was not afraid of the dead. she craved death like it starved for her.

every harsh stare toward her was met with her own sneer. it was hard to fear her above, when flowers bloomed beneath her feet and branches curled toward her, wishing to listen in on what she had to say, and the wind whispered its secrets into her ears.

here, she was fire. here, she'd never felt so alive.

persephone could feel dean's eyes on her. when she turns to meet his gaze, there is pride in his green eyes. green, just for her. green, like the leaves and the grass. she lifts her hand to smudge the wrinkles in the corners of them, the gesture a silent question and an act of affection.

"you do not have to hide from me," she promises under her breath, the pad of her thumb massaging the age lines over his stubbled face. "show me how dark you can burn."

and when his eyes blacken, she is certain that love can conquer all. it certainly has brought a king to his knees.

the warm months were dawning. persephone knew, because her veins ached with the need to be above again. spring was upon them. it was time for her to return. just as dean had his duties, she had her own. it would not be fair to throw them to the wind just because she'd found a home, now, and was no longer wandering mindlessly through the woods.

dean stands before her, a grim expression on his face. in his hands is a pomegranate, torn in two. the juice runs down his hands like blood.

from his face, she knows that he must feel, too, like he is bleeding out.

persephone steps forward to press her forehead against his, on the tips of her toes to reach him. his arms wrap tightly around her, staining the white of her flowing gown pink with the blood on his hands.

she does not make any move to pull from him, though. she has waited as long as she possibly could already, but she does not want to abandon him again to his kingdom of cold isolation. does not want to see how much he falls apart without her; not when she will shatter just as violently.

"i will be back when the wind begins to chill," she promises, slipping from his arms just enough to steal a pomegranate half from his hands. she plucks a seed from its pieces, popping it between her lips. "i will be back at the very first reddening of the leaves, i swear it."

it does not loosen his clenched jaw. dean has never doubted any of her promises, but he does doubt himself, falling into a pit of his own destruction. she does not want to leave him and see how many shards she will have to pick up upon her return.

dean's fingers reach out to steal one of her seeds. "i would never take away your ability to choose," he says softly, placing the seed on his tongue as she had, like an unspoken vow between them in the shared gestures, "but i wish that you will continue to choose me."

"always."

her eyes close, and it's like she can already hear the crying of the birds in the sky, the nymphs in the trees crying for her to return, her mother wailing. it overwhelms her. she opens her eyes again to find solace in the black swirls of his.

"i will count the days until you come," he swears, his stained fingers brushing streaks of red along her cheekbone as he cups her face against his palm. "and i will burn the world if you are kept away from me."

persephone knew he would, too. just as she would tear through it all to get back to him.

it is with great effort that she crosses the gate between the underworld and the real world. her strength crumbles the moment her feet touch the grass, tears streaming down her face, the first signification of spring being the pouring rain that starts the moment her tears do.

but she was strong, and now much stronger, now that she holds place in someone's heart and she has found solace in a home that welcomes her just as she wants to be. as a queen, not just an angel, as a girl who wants to burn as much as she wants to light.

and true to his word, the depths of hell are aflame the moment the gate closes. the ice melted and thawed, in its place, flames and fire and heat, grieving the angel of death until she makes her way home to its king again.

tags. @sthefferrete @cevansbaby-dove @titsout4nicholas @cosmicanakin @bluestrd

@ultravi0lence14 @mccartneyqp @poughkeepsie99 @depressionbarbie2023 @im-bili

@ariasong11 @chevroletdean @angelblqde @ostaramoon @deansbite

@lyarr24 @jasvtsc @deanswidow @figthoughts

click here if u want added!

[gothforgod]

Can you stop being so apathetic?

For @kittywhoo

Itoshi Rin x Soft girl! Reader

Feat. angry reader, heavy angst, fluff, Rin being Rin, Rin finding his soft spot, a snowy night at the practice field.

There you were, standing on the edge of the field again, watching him kick the ball, landing it in the net. Again.

And again.

And again, each swerving arc of the ball landing perfectly in the top right corner of the goal.

You shivered, pulling your white puffy jacket tighter around you. Your breath fogged up the dark air, escaping from the narrow crack between the edge of your coat and your scarf.

"Rin-Rin!!" You called out, waving one gloved hand high to try to catch his attention. "Over here!"

His back remained turned to you as he retrieved his ball and dribbled it between his feet, preparing for the next shot.

You huffed. This idiots gonna catch a cold standing out here in shorts and no jacket!

Ever since your friend had returned from the elusive Blue Lock training facility in December, he had been obsessed with soccer. I mean, he already had been obsessed beforehand, but now it was all he did. He didn't attend classes. You often watched him practice drills through the window in your classroom, often for hours on end. Sure, he still texted you every so often, but you hadn't met up in months.

You missed him, more than you wanted to admit, so his ignorance now stung you like fire, fire that raced through your veins and settled into your chest.

You clenched your gloved fists and stomped forward, your white mary-jane shoes tromping through the light layer of snow on the field.

"Hey!" You shouted, marching right up to Rin. You grabbed his shoulders and tugged him backwards.

He jerked, stumbling back. He nearly tripped over you, and the surprise on his face was enough to make you pause. Could he really not hear me? Does he have headphones in?

"Y/n-n?" Rin stuttered, his teal eyes flashing over your body. "Is that you?"

"Yeah?" You folded your arms. "Who else?"

He blinked.

"What's the deal??" You raised your hands. "I've been standing over there for ten minutes, freezing my feet off, trying to get you're attention!" You found yourself blinking back tears. "You haven't hung out with me in forever, not since-since you went to that Blue Lock place." Now that you were standing in front of him, a wave of heaviness swept over you. Does he not like me anymore? Does he only care about soccer?

Rin's eyes glazed over. "So?"

Your heart froze. "...what?"

"So?" Rin repeated, turning away from you, his shoulders raised with tension. "I'm not the same."

"Yeah, but I am." Tears ran freely down your face now. "Do you think I'd forget you in a few months time? Do you think I haven't missed you?" Your tone warbles. "Do you even care about me anymore?!" You practically screamed at him.

Rin paused for a beat before he sighed. "No."

Your heart shattered into a million pieces. This wasn't the same boy you had crushed on since middle school, not the same boy who had asked you to the school dance last year, not even the same boy who texted you to ask about your day every night since his return.

"I don't believe you."

It took you a moment to realize that you had spoken the words and that they hadn't automatically materialized.

"If you don't care about me anymore, then what's this?" You raised the golden R charm necklace, one that you constantly wore, and that Rin had bought for you before he left for Blue Lock.

"Here." He handed you a small, black box as you both say in the back of your parents restaurant. You opened it and gasped.

"Rin...it's beautiful!" One finger traced the R.

"I'm going away soon." He shrugged. "I want you to have something that reminds me of you."

You could remember that conversation as clear as day. Now here he was, standing in front of you in a snowy soccer field, having returned from a trip that had not only changed his life, it might have ruined it completely.

In the present, Rin sighed. "A present."

"Yeah." You nodded. "You told me that it was a part of you for me to keep." You clenched it tightly in your hand. "I'm never letting you take yourself away from me."

At this, Rin turned, his eyebrows raised into his dark hair. "What?"

You raised your nose into the air. "I will follow you like a lost dog if I have to, Rin Itoshi, but you're never going to be able to shake me off. I'm always going to be here for you." Your chin wobbled, and water pooled in the corners of your eyes. Dammit I'm gonna cry again!

"I just want you back!" You cried, covering your face in your hands as you burst into tears. "Y-Youve changed, and I miss you. The real you."

Rin sighed again. "You're right."

You sniffed and wiped delicately at your eyes. "Shit, now my makeup is ruined..." The thought of how ugly you must look now almost made you burst into tears again. I should've worn waterproof today.

Suddenly, freezing hands wrapped their way around your cheeks, apple red from the cold and your tears. You almost flinched away, but paused at the last moment, staring at the boy in front of you.

Rin's eyes were still devoid of any emotion, but his touch, as frigid as it was, was soft, swiping underneath your eyes to clear away any melted makeup.

"I...thanks," you breathed, watching his expressionless face.

"Yeah." He nodded once. He shifted his gaze away from you and sighed. "I've been an idiot." He murmured.

You blinked. Did Rin Itoshi just admit that he's wrong?

He ran one hand through his hair. "I'm so stupid, I deserve to die."

"What?-No!" You exclaimed. "Rin, you're..." You paused. I think he's trying to apologize.

You let out a breath. "I'll forgive you if you act like I exist again." Your voice fell. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, y/n," Rin stepped back, watching you. Your heart fluttered, and you felt a soft heat sweep over your cheeks.

"I haven't been myself lately." He muttered, staring at his hands. "I've been...so obsessed with the idea of beating my rival, Isagi, I-" he paused. "I forgot about anyone else."

As much as the words stung, you were glad that you were seeing some glimpse of the old Rin. "I see." You murmured.

"How the hell can I fix this?" Rin's hands shook, and he planted both in his hair.

"Food?" You raised your eyebrows. "My parents have been curious about how you're doing. They're disappointed that you haven't visited the restaurant."

He dragged his hands down his face. "I was planning on stopping by soon, but time...got away from me." He stared into the distance. "I actually can't remember the last time I ate..."

You lunged forward and grabbed his hand. "C'mon then, we're going to dinner." You dragged him towards the edge of the field. "You can clean up and get your equipment later, the janitors will be here late."

Despite the fact that Rin was much taller and stronger than you, he let you pull him off of the field and onto the sidewalk, towards the nearest bus stop.

The two of you spent a merry night together, catching up over rice noodle soup. You heard Rin laugh for the first time in a while when you told him your mud puddle adventure, and finally, a smile slid across his lips.

"I promise I'll never forget you again." He told you, eyes shining warmly.

Note: this got a lot more angsty than I had anticipated. Hope you like it!

[greenthena]

Oh me? Just cataloging snakey stuff

I'm currently diving down lots of costume rabbit holes (snake holes? sounds wrong...) in the GO universe. My thoughts for today are about Crowley and how he expresses his snakey-ness through the ages. Might I tempt you down this rabbit hole?

Starting off in Eden. It's a very small detail and barely even visible in this screencap, but you can see deep red embroidery "V" shapes on the shoulder of Crowley's tunic here. They're very scale-like and quite subtle. This "V" scale shape is a patterned motif we'll see throughout the early years (really during the B.C. years) of Crowley clothes. Also, Crowley's hair is almost Gorgon-like, the curls resembling the bodies of serpents.

For the Flood sequence, I had a little trouble finding anything snakey. Crowley's hair is less defined (though glorious! love the plait!) so I'm not as tempted to describe the style as Gorgon-esque. But if you zoom into the robe to get a good view of the texture...

...you can see the herringbone pattern in the weave of the fabric. Herringbone is basically a series of upright and inverted chevrons, that continue the "V" shape motif of snake scales that we first saw on the Eden robe's embroidery. Elusive little reference, but pretty clear once you see it. Also note the unfinished hem at the neckline of Crowley's robe, compared to the smoothly stitched and tied neckline on Aziraphale. Undone versus all bound up.

Bildad is just my favorite and I will gladly ramble indefinitely about everything from the Job minisode. *exhale* Bildad's tone-on-tone black robe has both diamond and stripe-dash designs, which are common patterns for snakes in nature. We've also got the belted sash at the waist, with an unusual use of teal (not a color we associate with Crowley). The unexpected color choice draws attention to the chevron motif, which we've now come to associate with Crowley's snakey-ness in the B.C. flashbacks.

And here's an additional Bildad. I make no apologies.

For the Golgatha sequence, Crowley presents as female, wearing a head covering. The robe looks to be the same as what she wore in the Flood sequence, with the subtle herringbone pattern. It's a heavy scene and the costumes are appropriately subdued.

Sidenote: I want to point out here that through the B.C. flashbacks, Crowley's costumes are consistently very textured compared to Aziraphale's. All the fabrics used are earthy and nubby and just very tactile, even when Crowley is playing the part of a wealthy Shuhite. Aziraphale's fabric choices, in contrast, are polished and almost shining. His accessories are metallic and golden and very much of Heaven. But if we look closer at the texture of his garments, even Aziraphale may be minutely subverting Heaven's uniform. Compare the slub texture (and even the unfinished neck hem in Eden) of Aziraphale's robes in the following images...

...to the perfectly smooth fabrics on the robes of other angels...

Gabriel and Muriel wear Heavenly robes of flawless weave. They're smooth, they're perfect...they're exactly what you'd expect. But not Aziraphale. He is, even back in Eden, drawn to the subtle variances and imperfections of Earth. His garments have texture and substance in a way that we just don't see with the rest of the Heavenly Host.

We now resume your regularly scheduled programming in the years of our lord. We're in the A.D.'s bay-bee!

Crowley's Rome ensemble is so confused and blundered. I read a meta that argued, and I agree, that we're to interpret this as, "This is Crowley's first visit to Rome since the crucifiction and he's just mish-mashed all the styles into one, regardless of gender or whatever." I'm good with the interpretation. In terms of seeking out the snakes, though, we've got a few candidates. First, the dark red linework embroidery at the hem of the toga(?). It's got an undulating pattern that we can read as a literal snake, or simply as a variation on the chevron theme. Either way, it reads as snakey. We've also got the snake brooch--on the nose, but why not? Finally, and this one took me a while, and I'm not certain I'm fully on board, but I'm kind of thinking of Crowley's silver laurels as snake scales. I mean, yes, they're Roman-ish, but very out of place in the context of having a quick drink. You don't wander around the streets of Rome proper wearing silver laurels. Maybe snake scales? This isn't a hill I'm willing to die on.

The big take away from the Rome costume is that this marks a change in Crowley's expression. Prior to this period, he's hidden his snake scales in the weave and texture of his garments. Going forward, we're not going to see any more distinct "V" embroidery or snakey textural patterns. Crowley's style is shifting and becoming more luxurious. But first, Wessex.

GO costume designer Claire Anderson said that for the 537 A.D. Wessex sequence, she was not going all in for historical accuracy. She was compiling armor pieces that looked snake-like. Cheers to her, because poor Crowley just looks like a very uncomfortable and damp serpent. Really like the individual plates on the pauldron and the gauntlet. Very scale-like. The chain mail, itself, can also read snake scales, though I'm hesitant to make that comparison since Aziraphale's armor also includes quite extraordinary amount of chain mail.

A moment of appreciation for Aziraphale's cape, if you will.

Once we reach the Elizabethan era, Crowley really hits his stride in terms of fashion. The lines of his doublet are angular and pointed. The collar is lifted up toward the sky, like a snake periscoping in the grass. But the thing I really see in this costume is the excessive use of velvet. It's the perfect fabric to evoke snake scales. If you've ever been fortunate enough to pet a snake, you'll know that running your hand from the head toward the tail is smooth, but in the opposite direction it's rather rough. (Also, don't, because snakes really don't like it--unless they're shedding...) Similarly, if you run your fingers in one direction of velvet, it causes the fibers to lay flat and smooth, but brushed the other way, the fibers stand up and become rough. Just like the scales. It's also just a very luxurious fabric that begs to be touched. Almost like a temptation, you might say.

In Crowley's Edinburgh costume, the most obvious expression of snake scales can be found on his interior waistcoat. The texture of the fabric, however, does not mimic the "V" pattern we've seen in the B.C. era, instead expressing the scales in the black and red checkered motif. Not super subtle, but nothing about this costume is. I love it so much. Not Bildad-level, but still.

The Holy Water Incident has one glaring snake reference, though not really in the costume itself. Crowley's carrying a walking stick (probably recovering from that post-laudanum punishment) and it's got a little snake head. Not much needs to be said here, as it's pretty obvious. It's a snake. You're welcome.

I'm actually going to end this post here, with our final snake reference being the elongated "S" on Crowley's tie. He's very up to date with the fashions of the era, but still manages to incorporate a clear symbol of his serpenty-ness.

So, yah. Snakey scales though the millennia. I want to do an in-depth look at both Crowley and Aziraphale's costumes in the modern era and really pull them apart piece by piece (not like that...) to find all the angelic and serpentine easter eggs Anderson included. Until then.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Like I could sink into the moment and be comforted by the darkness

Summary: Azula's skin is changing, it shimmers and shines. But everything is okay. She is okay.

Note: I found out about invertebrate iridescent virus 31 and thought, “what if Azula…???”

Warning: Character Death

It starts with her fire, most things do.

It is alluring in the way that sun halos are.

Sometimes she stares at her fire for hours watching it’s newly white blaze. It pops a flares with streaks of teal and pink, a fine opalescence that makes her think of rainbows on the rims of clouds.

She noticed it on a Thursday. An unremarkable Thursday, slightly overcast but still charmingly warm. Her days have been mostly mundane as of late and she has grown used to and then content with the monotony. She no longer begs for things to do, missions to go on, and people to please. 

She finds pointless hobbies that she enjoys alongside her more rigorous, strenuous firebending routines. She likes to study butterflies and other insects, mostly butterflies with their vivid colors and their clever camouflage. But she is also fond of the pillbugs, the way that they bunch up when she pokes at them. 

Now and then she calligraphy art, an elegant sweep of shimmery gold ink is amazingly satisfying. Just to follow the sweeping movements of her quill as she extends certain strokes in choice places. She likes to use the leftover ink to draw some of her favorite bugs. 

Sometimes she dances, she isn’t all that good at it. Her form is too stiff and she isn’t particularly expressive yet. There is something about dancing that feels more naked and she isn’t quite ready for that yet. 

Thursdays are firebending days. 

Since nothing urgent happens on Thursdays, she can run through her katas uninterrupted. She is done for today but she thinks that she had done more staring than formwork. She hasn’t revealed her fire to anyone else yet. She had gotten enough stares and whispers when it had turned blue. 

She shows the Avatar first. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” He tells her. His voice is almost a gasp. “It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful and confusing.

She thinks that maybe…probably it is a reflection of her mastery. 

Or it could be the product of having found some sense of peace with herself. 

Bending comes from the soul. Maybe she finally has a beautiful soul.

But then her eyes change.

She goes about her day.

Oblivious.

It is so very subtle, easy to write off as a trick of the light. The way that the sun bounces off of the mirror and reflects into her eyes. She sees twinkles in TyLee’s eyes all the time and in Zuko’s whenever he talks about the baby that he and Mai will call Izumi. 

She doesn’t know if her own eyes twinkle like that when she speaks of firebening or her butterflies. She moves away from the mirror and makes her way down the hall to visit them. The room is new, it is more of a glorified tent that extends out from the palace and into the garden. 

And butterflies aren’t the only things in here, there are dragonflies too and different types of beetles and little cocoons that are affixed to the screen windows. She has a few large bumble bee nest boxes just outside of this room. At least one or two flutterbats roost in the ceiling’s rafters. 

It always smells lovely in here, as it ought to will all of the flowers; lilacs, butterfly bushes, lavender, daisy, fire lily, cherry and apple blossom, and various others that she can’t name. But she can name every species of butterfly and dragonfly that flit about. Some of them have been imported from the Earth Kingdom that has the largest variety. She yearns to see the Water Tribe’s elusive frost-winged glacial moth.

One day when she is ready to brave the cold. 

For now, she is content to read through her scrolls and learn everything there is to know about the critters that whiz about the Fire Nation’s fields and scuttle in Fire Nation soil. She has already hoarded a wealth of knowledge.

She finds herself a comfortable place and opens one such scroll. 

Usually by the end of her studies the butterflies will be clinging to her hair and a dragonfly or two will be resting on her robes. 

One time a centipede had hitched a ride on the excess fabric of her night robe and found itself a seat at the dinner table. Sokka has made a point of making sure there are no bugs under his fork ever since. 

.oOo.

The butterflies seem more drawn to her these days, even when she isn’t wearing her special perfume. The one with the aroma designed to attract them. Even the ones outside of the butterfly room, the ones that aren’t familiar with her, seem to follow her in clouds. 

“There are so many of them.” TyLee gasps one day. She plunges her hand into the colorful cloud and finds it tickled by the many flapping wings. Azula has grown used to tickles on her cheeks and neck. “Maybe you should wear less of that perfume.” TyLee giggles. 

“I’m not wearing any at all.” She says. 

“None?”

“None.” Azula confirms. 

But the butterflies still love her and she isn’t opposed to their company. 

The fish like her too. 

She finds out on an extraordinary hot summer day when they take a day trip to one of the Fire Nation’s smaller islands. She doesn’t much care for ocean water but she doesn’t want to be left alone at the palace—it reminds her too much of darker days, days when invitations weren’t even extended to her—but it is too hot to just lounge in the sand even if she does so with a cold drink in her hand. 

And so Azula swims. 

She doesn’t mind the weightlessness, she actually rather enjoys the sensation of just drifting. But sometimes the ocean pulls too hard and more than once Katara has to waterbend her out of their grasp. Every time she and Zuko get another lecture on water safety. And Sokka mutters about how it might have been safer if the two of them had joined Toph and Suki for the caving expedition. 

But the two of them are back in the water again. Azula has taken to sitting there with the water at chin level. She stares at her arms and legs. At her feet which she has taken to burying in her sand. She likes the way that her skin seems to sparkle beneath the surface. 

She is certain that it is only an illusion; the way that the sunrays filter through the water. She is only seeing a reflection of the surface mirrored on her arm.

It is around this time that the fish come to accompany her, drawn by that peculiar glint that she realizes is not quite so different from the glimmer of their own shimmery scales. 

Really the trip wouldn’t have been so bad if she weren't afraid of fish.

.oOo.

She is beautiful. 

Otherworldly. 

Her condition, whatever it is, has lost its subtlety. 

At certain angles, in certain lights, her skin takes on a pastel blue shimmer. When the sun hits it the right way there are flashes of pink and gold as well. From head to toe, she shines. Her cheekbones are accented by blue, her lips are tinged pink without having applied any gloss to them. She has not dipped her fingers into the gold ink of her calligraphy set but they appear as though she has. She trails them over her stomach, over muscles that are accentuated by baby-blue. 

She feels like a pearl. 

As though she had emerged from the ocean that summer day like some precious gem. 

Her hair has a certain luster too. It looks something like an oil slick in a most flattering manner. 

“What’s happening to me, Avatar?” She asks one day and in just the same way that she asks Katara to tell her facts about the frost-winged glacial moth.

“Make any spirits angry?” Aang asks.

“Not recently.” Azula replies. She hums to herself. “Don’t you think that a spirit curse would be more…unsightly?”

Aang shakes his head. “Not necessarily.” 

“Hmm.” She should probably be more worried. 

She should probably be downright terrified. 

She has seen some of her pill bugs get shiny and then they died. 

But she is not a pill bug. 

She is not a bug at all. 

Maybe she would be more concerned if people weren’t so intrigued by her. 

If it didn’t add a little something to her performances when she firebends in front of people. 

She dances more now, mostly because she is mesmerized by the way her skin shimmers in the firelight. How different poses and angles display colors and cast different ripples.  Her body has become her art. It is relaxing to look at. And the butterflies adore her as much as she enjoys their company. 

It is all fine and well until she begins to feel stiff.

.oOo.

She wakes up unable to move her pinky. 

By dinner time she can’t move her hand. 

By the next morning she is in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down. She wants to lay down before her body locks up in this position.

She has her servants move her to her butterfly room. 

They bring her a mattress and some pillows.

She knows that she should be afraid and very dully, somewhere in the back of her mind—somewhere where her base instincts reside—she is. But mostly she is fascinated. Fascinated by her ethereal end. 

She exists in something of a dreamlike state—fully lucid but not quite connected to her body and the world it resides in. Completely aware but curiously calm. 

Maybe that is the nature of her transformation.

She will die. 

She knows it in her soul. 

But she is not scared. 

She is comforted. She doesn’t want to die, life has been kind to her for the longest time now. But she doesn’t feel particularly inclined to resist what is to come. There are worse ways to go; bloodied and burned on a battlefield. She could have gone out buried under a pile of boulders or impaled on an icicle during the war. 

She could have also slipped away in her sleep decades from now with wrinkled skin and blurry vision. With a well aged body. 

But this is fine.

In three days time, she cannot move.

She cannot move but she still sees nice things.

She sees different colors. Colors that she has never seen before. Colors that she can’t put a name to and so she ascribes them symbols instead. There is an x with a flame to halo it, this color is most like gold but if gold was red. And ‘spiral with three dots above it’ is blue if blue was purple at the same time. 

She watches her butterflies

She sees them as if for the first time, wearing their brand new colors.

No…

Not new colors.

She is simply seeing them as they were meant to be seen.

Her favorite has wings of velvety black and inky blue with one large stripe of ‘spiral with three dots above it’ on either wing. 

They all come together to form a gossamer current. Katara has told her about the curtains of light that dance in Water Tribe skies. Azula thinks that this is what they must look like. So many vivid colors evershifting, never forming the same shape nor color sequence twice. Sometimes the dragonflies duck in and out of the butterfly cloud.

“How are you doing?” Zuko asks. 

She tells him that she is doing just fine. 

And she means it. 

She truly does. 

He pours her a cup of tea and he helps her drink it. He props her up against his chest and slowly tips the teacup until she pulls her head back. 

TyLee and Mai visit her too. And the Avatar and his friends too. They had been preparing to go back to their own duties but whatever is happening to her is happening quickly. And they decide to stay. 

“Do you want me to keep you company tonight?”

Azula shakes her head, it is the only thing that she can move these days. “No thank you, Zuzu. I’ll be here in the morning.” She knows that she is wrong. She also knows that he won’t leave if she tells the truth. But she doesn’t want anyone to watch her die, even if her death is serene. 

Zuko smiles. “Alright, if you’re sure.” He squeezes her hand. 

“Sleep well, Zuzu.” 

She will too.

She waits for him to leave to begin to die. 

She closes her eyes.

It isn’t painful. 

It actually feels rather nice, like someone pouring warm paraffin over her body. She always enjoyed dipping her hands and feet in paraffin… 

They find her in the morning, unmoving and stiff, shimmering in the sunlight that filters through the windows. 

There is a scatter of dead and iridescent pill bugs haloing her crystalized corpse.

[irisintheafterglow]

assassin!sakusa au: the dagger games part 02 of 03. (part 1)

they did not, in fact, have a change of heart overnight.

as was tradition, the games began when both hands on the clock struck 12 midnight, and would last for eight hours or until one team was victorious. you stood beside daichi for the opening ceremony, all the crews gathered in a circle in the clocktower square lit by only the dim gas lamps. there were numerous familiar faces: your allies, the cats and the owls; the castles and barrel-shouldered ushijima; aone and the 'wall keepers' that dwelled in the perimeters of the city; boastful terushima who'd brought confetti poppers to the occasion. at midnight exactly, each crew threw down a smoke bomb and disappeared into the mist, whether to run and find high ground or nab easy points while everyone was disoriented.

"take the first-years and hide out at the top of the paper mill. we'll come get you once we've gathered a good amount of points," daichi instructed you the night prior, before kuroo arrived to give you information (or lack thereof) about sakusa's vial.

you assent wordlessly, carefully filling a thin cotton bag with a cup of thick black paint. the paint inside the bags would serve as a point per color. if your bag was sliced, the enemy's dagger would be stained that color. the number of colors on your blade at the end of the games would determine point values, and bonus points were awarded for the team who was the most elusive.

"what are kuroo and bokuto's plans?"

"no idea. we can't officially work with them, remember?"

"right. formal alliances are prohibited, but they'll never know we crossed each others' paths if we don't fight."

"exactly. just focus on getting the new guys out of the way, and then we'll take turns babysitting them." it was an unspoken tradition that the newbies of each crew were the first to be eliminated because they were the easiest points; they didn't have extensive knowledge of the city, and they were more likely to make mistakes in the excited atmosphere of the competition.

with kageyama, hinata, and yamaguchi following you out of the smoke, your instructions were to stash them somewhere safe before going out to hunt the veterans. the four of you silently climb the outside ladders of the abandoned paper mill and creep through an open window, locking it behind you with a loud CLICK!

"why are we up here, again?" hinata's whisper is barely hidden by the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath your boots.

"we need high ground," you reply patiently, ushering them into a moonlit corner with a window overlooking the streets below.

"but we don't have sniping weapons," the shortest newbie muses. "what's the point of being up so high?"

"from here, we're not looking to attack; we're looking to gather information. look there." you nod out the window toward the sidewalk just across the street, where you barely make out the shadows of two figures swiping at each other. "the dagger games are named for the assassin's primary weapon before firearms. they are the most primal way of killing, and we honor those before us by establishing hierarchy based on knife-fights alone." you watch the glint of the daggers in the lamplight, and briefly catch the paint color in the bags at their waists.

red and teal. a cat and a castle.

"do the foxes ever play the games?" yamaguchi's eyes stay on the fighters below, who keep swinging in a stalemate.

"they usually win," you inform him and his eyes widen. "kita and his right-hand twins have been the highest point earners for the past three games."

"aren't the games held bi-annually? a fall and a spring games?" kageyama asks and you nod in confirmation. "so they've won twice for each year?"

"yeah," you chuckle. "their whole crew are monsters." there's movement in the alleyway next to the two fighters, a figure slipping in the darkness to position behind the castle. during the brief pause for both to catch their breath, the intruder lunges with two quick stabs to the castle's paint bags. two shades of teal coat their dagger, double points for getting both bags. then, the figure disappears back into the alleyway.

"woah!"

"that was terrifyingly quick."

"at least that's one castle out of the games," kageyama smiles evilly. "oikawa and his stupid kingdom will fall."

"yeah, and you're not allowed to be part of it." a melodic, familiar voice echoes through the dusty space and the three boys jump, hinata yelping in surprise. you smile to yourself, knowing full and well that he'd been there for the past three minutes.

"any luck with early points?"

"a few of the party pack," sugawara replies as he steps into the moonlight. he holds up his dagger triumphantly, stained yellow and flecked with pieces of confetti. "they definitely weren't hard to find, by any means."

"did you take out all of them?"

"i tried, only got a few of the newbies." you pat his shoulder sympathetically and he shrugs.

"why would suga need to take out all of them?"

"points are based on the number of team colors, not necessarily number of members," you recall from memories of your first dagger games where you thought it was pointless to take out an entire team. "if you already got one member, it's best to finish off the others so no other team can get their dagger stained that color."

"but that's for your next games," sugawara reminds them. "for now, say bye and tell them 'happy hunting.'"

the boys nod in understanding, bid you 'happy hunting,' and you exchange roles with sugawara before leaping into the night to find your own marks.

part 03.

[viiktorious]

⧼   sean teale, cis man, he/him   /   achilles come down by gang of youths + viktor - latin origin meaning 'champion' you were named with the intention that no matter what the situation you're in you'll always come out on top. it's a heavy burden to place on someone's shoulder, and you felt the weight at a very young age. lucky for you you've always shown promise and talent. the sky blessed you with the innate ability to fly across it with ease, to do what many non-magical men can only dream of. it's a blessing and you've taken it with stride. it fills you in ways nothing else seems to do. with a broom and golden in your hand you've become victorious; family - a sacred bond. the reason you exist and the collection of hands that molded you into the man you are now. in an environment where the pull of darkness is like a siren song they are the reason you have not been led astray. the past, the people you've lost have become the guiding light in your life. friends - the family you make. the reason you know that sometimes some bonds are just as strong as the pull of the blood coursing through your veins. blood you would readily spill if those bonds were ever endangered. fiercely loyal to a fault. you'd put your life on the line for anyone that earned a spot within your heart; love - old english, german, latin or ancient greek. to love is to care. filial, platonic or romantic. the latter... for you? unknown. more elusive than a golden snitch. it is something you dream about, to have what so many before you were able to obtain. the path of a victor is lonely it seems.  ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that VIKTOR KRUM? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the THIRTY TWO year old pure blood WIZARD is a DURMSTRANG INSTITUTE alumnus who has gone on to be a WORLD CLASS QUIDDITCH PLAYER & TEMPORARY HOGWARTS CO-COACH. i’ve heard they can be quite LOYAL & HONORABLE, but i don’t know… they came off very CLOSED OFF & SHORT TEMPERED in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?

he's an only child and it shows. his parents ( aleksander and stefania krum ) spoiled him quite a bit, but that love also came with very high expectations for viktor. their affection seemed to be a little bit transactional, though i don't believe they did it intentionally and had his best interest at hand... but he realized at a young age that if he got good grades then soon after he would get a new broom, or the toys he'd been eyeing at the store on their last outing. it was sort of a 'win-win' situation but also an incredibly heavy burden. though it was also partially self-imposed. ( he was a little bit too proud to not strive to be the best in everything he was involved in )

he's very much an example of 'only child syndrome' with certain traits ( most of them not good ) though mainly the difficulty to socialize, the inability to share, the perfectionism, introversion, sensitivity to criticism, and as he grew up... the loneliness. which honestly didn't get any better once he started to show some real talent for quidditch, but it seemed like besides his teammates everyone only wanted to get close to him for their five seconds of fame and he honestly hated that.

the fact that he seemed to be a bit of an outlier in durmstrang, a dark arts institute with igor karkaroff as a headmaster during his schooling, also didn't make things any easier. the people he actually trusted were very few, he was able to count them with one hand. his short temper made him very ... use fists first, ask questions later ... so you know, not the best way to make meaningful connections !

then his last year came and we all know how that turned out, but basically: visiting hogwarts ( good ), meeting hermione ( very good ), befriending harry ( also very good ), being selected for the triwizard tournament ( not in his plans but why not ? new experiences and all ), being manipulated like a puppet with the imperius curse by a death eater, forced to torture cedric diggory with the cruciatus curse and then getting stunned and disqualified ? ( 0 / 10 quite frankly very awful, would NOT recommend, still have nightmares about it ).

after that i like to imagine he graduated and started trying to live his best life as a quidditch player then fast forward to fleur's wedding ... someone he ✨ trauma bonded ✨ and kept in contact with ... getting ambushed and attacked by even more death eaters ? click here for his reaction !

feeling that attack a little bit too personal he decided to stay in britain and help the order of the phoenix as much as he could. i don't think he was heavily involved in the second wizarding war, not in the front lines and definitely not nearly as much as he would have wanted to be. but he did provide aid, and a safe heaven to those that needed to get out of britain and had gotten hurt somehow. ( he was a pretty good healer, almost had to be with how accident prone quidditch players are ) but he did his best to help as much as possible. i have more Thoughts here and Possibilities but i still need to unravel them some more. him not being heavily involved also meant he didn't find out about many things until way after the fact ( mainly harry's "death" ) he only stayed until the funeral and then promptly went back to bulgaria to try to keep on living despite everything that happened.

back in bulgaria... home doesn't feel like home anymore. so he dives into his passion full time, not being one too in tune with his emotions he decides to do his utmost to ignore and move on. and it does work for a few years at least, but the universe has a funny way of repeating events and he gets word of what's happening again. and so he takes a "break" from his quidditch career and contacts professor mcgonagall for a position as a temporary co-coach... though his intention is more being involved, actually helping this time and hopefully protecting those he holds dear.

aaaaand... this is where we are now ♡

[noxtms]

dear sam ; we are pleased to inform you that your application for VIKTOR KRUM has been accepted to 𝐧𝐨𝐱 ! sean teale is now taken. you have twenty four hours to submit your account, or else your role will be reopened !

⧼   sean teale, cis man, he/him   /   achilles come down by gang of youths + viktor - latin origin meaning 'champion' you were named with the intention that no matter what the situation you're in you'll always come out on top. it's a heavy burden to place on someone's shoulder, and you felt the weight at a very young age. lucky for you you've always shown promise and talent. the sky blessed you with the innate ability to fly across it with ease, to do what many non-magical men can only dream of. it's a blessing and you've taken it with stride. it fills you in ways nothing else seems to do. with a broom and golden in your hand you've become victorious; family - a sacred bond. the reason you exist and the collection of hands that molded you into the man you are now. in an environment where the pull of darkness is like a siren song they are the reason you have not been led astray. the past, the people you've lost have become the guiding light in your life. friends - the family you make. the reason you know that sometimes some bonds are just as strong as the pull of the blood coursing through your veins. blood you would readily spill if those bonds were ever endangered. fiercely loyal to a fault. you'd put your life on the line for anyone that earned a spot within your heart; love - old english, german, latin or ancient greek. to love is to care. filial, platonic or romantic. the latter... for you? unknown. more elusive than a golden snitch. it is something you dream about, to have what so many before you were able to obtain. the path of a victor is lonely it seems..   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that VIKTOR KRUM? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the THIRTY TWO year old pure blood WIZARD is a DURMSTRANG INSTITUTE alumnus who has gone on to be a WORLD CLASS QUIDDITCH PLAYER & TEMPORARY HOGWARTS CO-COACH. i’ve heard they can be quite LOYAL & HONORABLE, but i don’t know… they came off very CLOSED OFF & SHORT TEMPERED in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?   [   sam, twenty six, est. she/they  ]

[sloan-baux]

The sailor shut the gate behind him and slid to the floor, his back brushing against the wooden surface as he shrunk. A wail escaped him when he touched down on the cold stone. As he sagged his head, sweet rainwater began dripping from his hair mixing with the salt that crusted his skin. He hugged himself tremulously, vicious cold permeating his bones. The ruined castle might have been a suitable hideout but was no refuge against the elements. Heat was escaping him, and so was lucidity.

His recent memories were akin to a nightmare, intermittent and unreal, made of visceral impressions and warped images.

A storm at sea, the towering forms of black waves backlit by lightning.

A deluge of seawater, screams, and a shower of wood chippings.

A desperate grasp on his forearm, slipping, nails under his skin, fingers against fingers rummaging for a grip.

Dark silence, the weight of the depths pressing against his orifices.

Squelching and scurrying across a waterlogged path, chased by eight-legged abominations, an image that tasted like panic.

A lithe, white-gloved hand proffered. This last one was very vivid, and it gave the man a pause.

Timidly he lifted his gaze to find a girl connected to the offered hand, her form adorned in a velvet mousse of a dress, gaudy with creamy frills and bows, a bold expanse of skin covered only with lace, magnificent gems illuminating her.

"Come. Dance." A crisp, zesty accent savored her jingling voice, one that the sailor had never heard before. Wary, he took her hand, and so they danced.

Elusive lights played teal and blue against the checkered floor they glided through, masked figures rushing by in their periphery, spiraling in concert with the doleful music that sounded wrong, backward, like the strings and flutes were not releasing, but sucking in the discordant notes that already saturated the air.

"Why are you sad?" The girl inquired, she cocked her head, looking to meet his downcast eyes.

"My crewmates. They're all dead." The sailor responded, "Only I survived, and I'm lost on this forsaken land."

"Dearest. Nothing is ever lost here." she placed a hand on his cheek.

"Come. I have something to show you!"

They drifted towards what seemed to be a pool of opaque light across the foyer, slowly ebbing as they approached, revealing an ornate tall gate. As if the castle made an inviting gesture, the gate opened and sounds of carousing and playful bickering flooded the hall. Along came a gust of warm air laden with bitter hops, sweat notes of port wine, and the savory scent of roasted pork.

The sailor's eyes grew, he smiled, then laughed.

"Captain! The boys! They all survived too?"

The girl didn't answer. She returned his excited look with a rueful smile and poked her head toward the commotion.

"Go to them now."

This is my drabble (again, not 100 words but at this point breaking rules is my love language XD) for the card Opulent Foyer requested by @iljodjeshi. This one is definitely more chill than the previous one, but hey I write whatever the card brings out of me 😊.

I still have Deny for @furtiveseal (I might be able to use my WIP for this) and Practical Perfectionist (gonna be spicy!) for @flowingmoons coming up but feel free to suggest more. Although I'll probably have to slow down with them because I should work on my WIP instead. XD

Anyway, if you've liked this feel free to check out another card I did, Solitude:

[salparadiselost]

A Quick Review of the Faie Auricula ("Itty Bitty") species

Hello and Welcome to the first step of owning your first Faie Auricula, or as most people call them, Itty Bitty! Now, we are sure you have many questions, but hopefully, we can clear some up and get you on the road to bringing your best friend home! First things first, what is an itty bitty?

Faie Auriculas are a tree-dwelling, mildly magical creature that initially came from the forests of North America and Europe. They are a semi-quadrupedal, semi-bipedal species that use their powerful hind legs and hooked claws to climb trees. In the wild, they live in large family groups and nest in tree hollows, often foraging for food at night. Their natural predators are owls, wild cats, and wolves, all of which wouldn't hesitate to hunt a bitty that strays too far from their hollow. Today, bitties don't have to worry about such scary things because bitties were domesticated many centuries ago. Originally, bitties were the pets of kings and queens and royalty often sent their knights on months-long expeditions to capture elusive bitties. As time passed, though, bitty craze spread to the masses and the demand for them grew despite the difficulty in acquiring them. Today, bitties still have the reputation of being a "rich man's" pet despite the great efforts to make them more accessible.

Why do they have such big eyes? One of the most notable features of a bitty (and one of the reasons they are so irresistibly adorable!) is their large eyes! Their eyes originally evolved to help them see in the dark and protect them from predators, but now they are mainly used to endear them to their human owners. A bitty's eyes are large from the very beginning and bitties grow into their eyes as they age.

The most common eye colour for a bitty is green or yellow. Teal eye colour is slightly rarer, and the most coveted eye colours are deep blue or purple. These colours are extremely rare in wild-type bitties, but through selective construction, the eye colour can be achieved.

What is selective construction? Selective construction is the magical process in which bitties are reproduced. Selective construction is a necessity in creating pet bitties because natural bitty reproduction is still a modern mystery!

Despite centuries of research, humans have never been able to breed bitties together, but groundbreaking research from Drake Industries discovered how to magically construct bitties. The magical construction process is a secretive, patented process so no details are known to the public, but we do know that construction requires material from at least two bitties to be viable.

Selective construction gives bitty owners the wonderful opportunity to choose which traits and behaviours they would like to put in their bitties! Prospective owners may choose traits such as eye colour, coat colour, coat length, coat texture, coat type, and tail type. Some traits are pricey than others, though, so be careful to keep track of your budget while ordering your bitties a la carte.

What should I know before my bitty comes home?

The most important part of owning a bitty is to be ready to love your bitty!

Bitties are an extremely social species and require lots of attention from their owners. They will need attention for at least two hours a day and it's highly recommended to give them outside time at least three times a week.

Bitties often are easily crate-trained due to their natural affinity to tree hollows, however, bitties will often grow unhappy if they are put into a crate for more than five hours a day. If you think that you will need your bitty to be comfortable in a crate, make sure to order a bitty constructed with a calmer temperament and train them early in their lives to be okay with being alone. Despite their high social needs, though, it is not suggested to adopt more than one bitty at once. If a bitty is adopted with another, they may try to bond with the other bitty instead of you! It's important to place yourself as the most important aspect of their lives as early as possible. When your bitty is older you may slowly introduce another into your household, but if the other bitty is an itty (a juvenile bitty that hasn't become bipedal yet) make sure it remains isolated until it is fully attached to its owners.

If all steps are taken to appropriately care for your bitty, you should expect to enjoy your bitty for approximately 12-14 years! As your bitty becomes a teenager, you should expect your bitty to start "slowing down", which means your bitty is entering its final stage of life. When you see that your bitty is slowing down, be sure to contact your vet to arrange end-of-life services for your friend. Although it is sad, slowing down is a painful, drawn-out process and it is much kinder to arrange these services for your bitty. Additionally, by arranging your services, you will be given the option to recycle your bitty into another construction for your next bitty! This gives you the ability to keep what you love about your bitty (and improve the parts that you don't love). I know you don't want to think about this now, however, it is best to know beforehand!

We are so glad you're starting the exciting journey of ordering a bitty! Please be sure to email our customer service department!

With Love, Drake Industries Building Your Best Friend from the Very Beginning - Excerpts taken from "A Quick Guide for Caring for Bitties" from Drake Industries

Written by: @salparadiselost Art from: @jube514

[ramenaddicted]

Coffee (Grimmjow x Reader)Drinktober Day 1

Hidey ho! It is me your most elusive and shy blog owner. This is my first piece for my Drinktober menu. This one is a little over seven hundred words, on to the prompt/theme. I chose Bleach as the base, Grimmjow as the mixer and for the garnish I chose fluff. thus coffee was born.

Content Warning: Some cursing, reader is female, and Grimmjow calls reader names.

My day starts at seven o'clock. I drag my body from my comfort prison known as my bed and fire up my shower. As the rivulets of water fell on the shower floor, my mind slowly replays my day from yesterday. Again my day started at seven o'clock in the morning. The sky is still a tad dark with little bits of light trying to peek through; I can hear the sound of the garbage truck making its weekly rounds, but the plush softness of my blankets slowly pulls my body and mind back down into the bed.

"Are you gonna get that?" An unfamiliar raspy voice asked.

I live alone, I sleep alone and wake up to the cruel colorless, and desolate sky alone. So when I hear a deep raspy voice, tinged with annoyance because of my alarm; I did what any person would do... scream.

"Hey, hey… it's too early in the morning for that-quit hitting me!"

Not listening to the man that made a home in my bed,I screamed louder. The pillows were my only weapon against the intruder; smacking and colliding with his face until he fell on the floor. Now here we are standing on opposite sides of my bed; the intruder is a tall well-built man with teal hair.

"Y/N, what is going on?" He barks while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Who are you and how did you get into my house?!"

"It's me, Grimmjow, you're boyfriend!"

Small slivers of sunlight start to peek through, slowly illuminating my bedroom. With the help of the artificial light I can see on his well-toned chest a long and deep scar; trailing from his neck down to his belly, painful.

The chaotic scene only grew worse when I tried to run out of my bedroom only to slip and hit the floor hard. Once again my visit was taken by the cold, cruel, colorless sky.

My thoughts dissipated after my shower; when I stepped out and dried off, the familiar smell of coffee wafted through the air.

Ah yes, Grimmjow is making coffee. My boyfriend.

After dressing for work I followed the scent of maple and cinnamon. Standing in the doorway to my kitchen I see Grimmjow frantically pouring two cups of coffee. Exhausted teal strands decorate his forehead as he concentrates on using the can cool whip. He curses when coffee splatters my countertops instead of making a small ring of the creamy delight.

A small giggle escapes my lips, when I tried to cover my mouth, all sounds in the kitchen ceased. Grimmjow looks so cute when he's angry.

"Good morning, Grimmjow."

"Good morning, woman."

Pointing to the can "you're squeezing the wrong side of the nozzle."

I gingerly grabbed the can of whipped topping and squeeze the nozzle on the left side of the can and viola, whipped topping slithered out and I got a nice little circle on my coffee.

"Do you want some?"

He grumbles and mutters some profanities while drinking his black coffee. The kitchen is filled with bright sunlight as the clock shows nine o'clock. I calmly sip my lukewarm coffee when Grimmjow asks a question.

"You wanna talk about yesterday morning?" He seethed while never taking those beautiful eyes off me. I could have sworn I saw his pupils turned into slits while waiting for my answer.

"I told you yesterday, I'm not used to waking up with someone. I'm used to being alone." I replied, we've only been together for a couple of weeks, and Grimmjow is more passionate than he lets on.

Yesterday morning there was a huge misunderstanding; the night before I cried to Grimmjow about work and family problems. He had the bright idea of staying over, which was fine. However, Grimmjow was supposed to sleep on the couch, and I'm a heavy sleeper, so Grimmy poo thought that sleeping next to me would relieve my anxiety? stress?

When actually he kick-started my fight or flight response and beat him with a pillow.

"Grimmjow, again I'm-

"I'm always gonna be right by your side, stupid." He grunted before he planted a chaste kiss on my lips.

The scent of maple and cinnamon faintly lingering as he pulled back and kissed my hand.

"Buenos días mi corazón."

[unbloomingmoonflower]

prelude

image was created by a very dear friend when I first started my Tokyo Ghoul fanfiction. The character is my OC, Hanami Makine.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sky was an endless azure, no traces of the fluffy white clouds or even the thundering storm clouds that rumbled throughout the night. The sun shining so strongly in the heavens and the cooling breeze made the morning much more bearable to be about.

Makine Hanami wished there were more patches of grass to curl her toes in at Kamii; the dewy feeling of wet grass after a storm gave her a sense of peace, something that had been elusive of her for quite some time. Wet concrete would have to be a close second against her bare feet.

"Hana-chan, every time I find you, you have your shoes off after a storm. You're the only weirdo in this entire place!"

Mizuki Yuna walked toward the sky-gazing brunette, teal eyes glittering in amusement in spite of her stern tone. She tossed her black hair over her shoulder, her lips curved into a smile as Hanami turned her crimson gaze to Yuna instead of the sky. "Do you think the souls of the dead fall back to earth when it rains?" asked Hanami, pushing a lock of light brown hair behind her ear. It was a thought that often plagued her every time the rain came down. Yuna wouldn't have been surprised if Hanami had been out on her porch all night, just watching as Tokyo was cleansed in the storm.

Yuna knew her best friend, however; there was a reason she posed the question. "I'd like to think so," she answered, softly, before she linked her arm with Hanami's. "We can talk more about that later. I have a surprise for you!"

Hanami raised an eyebrow, knowing Yuna understood when she made the facial expression.

Yuna grinned. "Get your shoes back on and follow me."

Hanami shrugged blithely, slipping her slightly damp feet into her sandals and adjusting the strap of her bag. Yuna's grin widened as she grabbed Hanami's hand and tugged her along. "Yuna," Hanami managed, managing to keep her stride in spite of Yuna's grip on her slender wrist. "What is this surprise?"

"Well, since I am bad at keeping anything a secret, I have friends for you to meet!" replied Yuna giddily, her eyes bright. Hanami narrowed her eyes slightly as a soft frown crossed her features. Yuna had been Hanami's only, dearest, and closest friend; she hadn't bothered making any others, as new people seemed to bother her. Yuna glanced at Hanami over her shoulder, a smile still on her face. "Hana-chan, you know I wouldn't introduce you if they weren't nice guys," she said, her voice soothing. An assurance, Hanami knew, because Yuna was right. She would never expose Hanami to anyone she thought was a bad person. "And besides!" continued Yuna, teal orbs twinkling in mischief. "One of them is shy like you. You two would get along fantastically!"

"You're the only one in Tokyo that would ever say fantastically, I know it," murmured Hanami, but her soft tone bore no malice or frustration toward Yuna. A giggle bubbled from Yuna's lips and she quickened their pace. "You love me, Hana-chan," she cooed.

A soft smile curved Hanami's lips. "Yeah, I know."

"Hey, Nagachika!" Yuna had tugged Hanami to the large courtyard where students would mingle in front of the student café, calling out to the blonde standing at one of the numerous tables where a raven-haired male sat with a book. The blonde grinned brightly, so much so that Hanami was strongly reminded of the girl holding her by the wrist. "Hey, Mizuki, it's about time you showed up!" he said by way of greeting, raising a hand. His brown eyes were bright, but Hanami could see that he wasn't only as bubbly as he appeared. "Is this that friend you were telling us about? She's a looker!"

Hanami blinked in surprise before she turned a cautious gaze at Yuna, who laughed. "I told you she was cute, didn't I?"

"You got me beat. You're right, she's cute!"

"Hide, I think that's making her uncomfortable," the dark-haired boy spoke then, his tone soft as his grey eyes flickered to Hanami, a shy, but reassuring smile gracing his features. Yuna grinned, gently tugging Hanami over to put her on display, Hanami stumbling slightly at Yuna's action. "This," Yuna announced proudly, "is my very best friend, Makine Hanami. She's in the Pharmacy Department and just too damn shy for her own good!"

"Yuna," muttered Hanami, heat rising to tint her pale cheeks pink, but Yuna merely beamed at her as she gestured grandly to the boys. "Hana-chan, these are the friends I was telling you about! The blonde here is Nagachika Hideyoshi-kun--"

"You can call me Hide, though!" Hide interjected with a grin.

"—Yeah, Hideyoshi is a mouthful, his words not mine; and that gentleman over there with the book is Kaneki Ken-kun, Hide-kun's best friend!"

Kaneki waved shyly and Hanami found her gaze drawn to him. His own cheeks were tinted pink, but Yuna said that he was shy, hadn't she? There was an earnestness in his grey eyes that Hanami couldn't help but meet his gaze; however, there was something else, something familiar.

"You're the famous Hana-chan that Yuna-chan talked about," Kaneki murmured, the smile more polite now. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Hanami nodded, averting her eyes. Her tongue dried inside of her mouth, her heart pounding up to her throat. Yuna pouted, grabbing onto Hanami's arm. "Hana-chan, now isn't the time to be shy and quiet! You need to break out of your shell!" she chided.

"This is like looking into a carnival mirror!" laughed Hide, rubbing the back of his head. "Spitting image of how I act with this guy!" He jabbed a thumb in Kaneki's direction, but the raven-haired boy seemed rather used to Hide's antics. Hanami sighed, gently prying herself from Yuna to sit on the bench opposite of Kaneki.

It was then that Yuna had the mischievous glint in her teal eyes. "Hey, Nagachika-kun, come with me for a sec. I forgot something back in the classroom," she said. Either Hanami was imagining it or Hide had the same mischievous glint that Yuna sported in his eyes. "Sure thing," he replied. "Yo, Kaneki, keep Hana-chan company, will ya?"

"W-Wait a second!" Kaneki shot to his feet, a deep flush tinting his cheeks, but Yuna and Hide dashed off before he could finish. Hanami watched as he sat back down, apparently embarrassed by his own behavior as he rubbed a hand against his face.

The brunette's eyes flickered to the tabletop, discomfort gnawing at her innards. Damn it, Yuna. She had never been alone with anyone besides Yuna, much less a male student at Kamii University. Kaneki seemed just as uncomfortable at being alone with her and Hanami was with him.

After a few heartbeats, Kaneki sighed heavily and closed the book his was reading. Hanami's eyes darted to the cover. Dear Kafka...? she thought, frowning softly. I wonder what kind of book that is...

"Hana-chan?" Kaneki's voice broke her reverie and Hanami's head snapped up from the book cover, quickly enough to startle the boy. "I-I'm sorry if that was too informal of me!" he backtracked, another flush blooming on his cheeks, his eyes widening in his flustered state. "You just looked interested in the book title so I thought—"

"I-It's fine." Hanami finally found her voice, her low murmur silencing Kaneki's harried flow of words. "You can call me Hana-chan if you want to; I don't mind very much."

"Oh." Kaneki's entire body sagged with relief as though Hanami had lifted a heavy burden off of his shoulders. "Do you know of Takatsuki Sen's work?" he asked, looking rather eager all of a sudden with bright eyes and a ready smile.

Hanami slowly shook her head. "I...didn't read much as a child, but I was always fascinated by books. I was always curious about the stories behind the cover," she answered, the words burning her tongue so much she wished she could chew it off. "You seemed rather enthralled by the book. Is it...is it good?"

"Yeah. There's just something about her writing style that just draws me in." Kaneki looked at the book fondly before, so suddenly yet so minutely, sliding the book toward her. "You can borrow it since you look very curious about it. I won't spoil anything for you so that way you can enjoy it."

Hanami's eyes widened, wringing her hands together against her lap. "I couldn't, it's your book-"

"Exactly, which means I can lend it to whomever I want." Kaneki smiled at her and Hanami felt her heart jump to her throat again. "It'll be nice if we both can talk about the book after you finish reading it."

Hanami's heart raced, Kaneki's words and actions bringing a lump into her throat, as she reached for the book he so kindly pushed into her direction. Her fingers gripped the book gingerly, lifting it from the table. "Thank you," she whispered, holding the book to her chest as though it were a crying child. "I'll take care of it while it's in my care, I promise."

There was a kindness in Kaneki's grey eyes that nearly stopped her heart. "I know you will, Hana-chan."

Hanami barely remembered Yuna and Hide returning after that moment. She pondered on that strange sensation as she sat on her bed inside of her apartment, the walls a shield for her solitude as moonlight streamed through the windows. Time seemed to stop during the briefest exchange with Kaneki that resulted in Hanami having a possession of his in her care for the time being. Red eyes fixated on the cover, the words Dear Kafka drawing her eyes as though it were a magnet. The index finger of her right hand slowly traced the words before it slid to the corner, lifting the cover to open the book.

There had to have been something wrong with her; Hanami's heart had never galloped so furiously from within her chest like this. Even though the book was likely sold by the truckload in bookstores, owned by thousands, there was a strange feeling of intimacy that weaved through her blood. But why? Something as innocent as lending a book to someone shouldn't have invoked such a strong reaction...

Hanami shook her head, trying to calm her erratic heart before she wound herself up further. Instead, she turned the page of the book, diving into its pages, lulled by the words, the eloquence that spoke to her on a molecular level. It was as though in some way, the book reached deep into the chambers of her heart and took root there, beating every syllable, every imagery, and every emotion into her body.

And her heart beat its thanks for the person who opened this new world to her until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

It had taken Hanami a week to finish Dear Kafka; and yet, finish was the wrong world to use. She had finished the book the day Kaneki lent it to her, but she couldn't help reading it again. However, this book didn't belong to her and it was time to return it.

Inhaling shakily, Hanami walked through Kamii's large campus, already used to the mingling students and the numerous departments for fields of study. She didn't have class on this bright Tuesday, but she wanted to see Kaneki to return the book. She gripped the strap of her bag, keeping it steady on her shoulder. Thanking him is on the to-do list today, she told herself. She was at this school without Yuna to do the talking for her. She had to show her gratitude on her own.

Crimson eyes darted around the university before landing on at a nearby table with chairs on opposite sides of each other. Occupying one of the chairs was unmistakably Kaneki Ken, another book in his hands, and Hanami felt the creepings of disturbance in her heart. How she could recognize him after a few encounters was astounding to her—and bordering onto disturbing.

This is no time to be scared. Hanami strode over to where he sat, ignoring the dregs of nervousness that knotted the pit of her stomach, quiet as a mouse. Strangely, as though he heard her footsteps, Kaneki lifted his head from the book and his grey eyes widened in what Hanami hoped was happily surprised. "Hi, Hana-chan. What are you doing at Kamii? I thought you didn't have classes today."

"I don't—wait, how did you know that?" Hanami asked, tilting her head with a slight frown.

A light pink hue dusted Kaneki's cheeks as he averted his eyes bashfully. "I asked Yuna-chan."

"You...asked about me?" Warmth seeped into her chest at the notion. The only one who truly wondered of her whereabouts had always, always been Yuna.

"That's okay, isn't it? I know we don't know each other very well right now, but..." Kaneki trailed off nervously and Hanami almost wondered if the poor boy ever talked to any girl outside of Yuna, even when their interactions were minimal. Her mind nearly ran off with the thought before Hanami jerked herself back into why she was on campus in the first place.

"Actually, I came by hoping to see you. So I can return your book." Hanami opened her bag, pulling the book out carefully, before handing it back to Kaneki. The raven-haired male took it from her and gently placed it atop his open book before his eyes flickered to her shyly. "Did you like the book?" he asked.

Hanami beamed a soft smile at his question. "I loved it. Thank you for lending it to me."

"A-Anytime!" Kaneki smiled back, gesturing for Hanami to take the seat across from him, which she did without hesitation. "If you ever feel like borrowing another book, I've got plenty that I can lend you."

"I couldn't ask that of you. It'd be much better if I had some of my own." Hanami placed her hands atop the table, lacing her fingers together. The warmth was still spreading within her, but it was coupled with a nervousness she couldn't truly comprehend. His kindness overwhelmed her and caused her to lower her eyes, but yet that something that caught her when they were first introduced still nagged at her. It was familiar, but from where...?

Kaneki looked at his books, smiling softly as though those novels were his most treasured companions. "It'd be nice, though. I feel bad, in a way; you haven't read a book even though you wanted to."

Hanami shook her head, shivering as a slight breeze caressed them, her hair shifting with the wind. "That's not your fault. Everything was just..." she exhaled heavily, wishing she could just swallow her words, "...complicated."

"I won't ask if you don't want me to."

"Thank you for that."

Silence hung between them; however, unlike the uncomfortable silence of their first meeting, the current silence was full. Warm, even.

"Hana-chan?" Kaneki's voice was soft, his grey eyes trying to catch Hanami's downcast gaze. Nervousness crawled up her throat like bile and Hanami forced herself to raise her eyes. She inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves. Nagachika Hideyoshi was right, she thought dryly. She and Kaneki were too alike for their own good.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked softly.

Kaneki nodded, his expression shifting minutely to attentiveness. "Sure."

"You're always alone, aside from hanging out with Nagachika." Hanami's eyes narrowed softly at the dark-haired male. "Why is that, Kaneki?"

Kaneki averted his eyes, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks. "I'm not that social. Hide understands me the best, after all; we've been friends forever."

"Well then," Hanami rest her elbow against the tabletop, propping her cheek against her palm. "Is it all right if I try to understand too? Since you and I are alike?"

Kaneki blinked in surprise. "But you're never alone. You're always with Yuna-chan!"

"It's the same way as you and Nagachika. Yuna just knows me the best." Hanami smiled softly. "She isn't scared of me because of my eyes."

"Why would your eyes be scary?" Kaneki's eyes widened slightly in surprise that matched his voice. "Your eyes are really pretty."

Hanami recoiled, her eyes widening as her hand slowly dropped from her cheek. "What...?"

Kaneki's cheeks turned redder, as if he just realized what he had said out loud, but it was too late to take the words back. His eyes darted to the table, no doubt avoiding her gaze so that he could say what he wanted to. "Yuna-chan told us that you were really sensitive about how people treat you after seeing your eyes. I thought she was just exaggerating until we actually met," he murmured. He took in a breath before he lifted his eyes to meet her surprised ones, grey clashing with crimson. "I think...I think your eyes are really pretty. They're unique, like you."

There it went again. Her heart was hammering in her chest and heat was rising to her cheeks, tinting the pale flesh pink. Her head was spinning and her blood zoomed through her veins. She had to go, to run before this strange sensation completely knocked her off of her feet. Hanami pushed the chair back, getting to her feet. "I...I have to go," she stammered, gripping at the strap of her bag as though it were her lifeline as she quickly turned away to leave.

"Hana-chan, wait," Kaneki called to her, his voice pleading, and Hanami dared to look back. He was on his feet and she could see his eyes trembling, as though he was afraid he'd scare her off. There was something else in his eyes; a flicker.

A shadow. Just like her eyes.

Cheeks darkening into deep red, Hanami tore her gaze away and ran, as fast as she possible could. She didn't understand why her heart beat so furiously around Kaneki.

But it scared her.

"Hana-chan?" The loud knock rang off of her apartment door and Hanami curled up in her bed, cotton sheets wrapped tightly around her. She knew it was Yuna; her best friend was the only one who knew where Hanami lived.

"I'm coming in," announced Yuna from the other side of the door and Hanami could faintly hear the jingling of keys. While she was thankful that she made the spare key for Yuna in any event of Hanami being sick to go to class, she partly wished that was the only reason her friend would just enter. Hanami heard her door swing open and Yuna coming in, shutting the door and locking it behind her. The sound of something heavy hit the wood floor and Hanami peeked toward her bedroom door as Yuna strode in, donning her lavender sweater and blue jeans. She bounced onto Hanami's bed, splaying herself on the mattress at Hanami's feet. "You feeling okay?" she asked. "You haven't been in school for a few days."

Hanami curled further inside of her blanket, her fingers clutching at the material for anchor. She remained silent, knowing Yuna would continue her thought and surely enough--

"Hide-kun and Kaneki-kun asked about you. Kaneki-kun more so; did something happen with you two?"

Hanami buried her head inside of her blankets. Of course Kaneki would ask; she was the run who ran off as though the devil had come for her. He had done nothing wrong.

He'd done nothing but compliment her eyes, the only part of her that she hated the most.

"Hana-chan?" Yuna's voice was gentle, the mattress creaking as the dark-haired girl turned to recline on her side. "What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything to me," whispered Hanami, but she didn't dare move; Yuna knew her the best and even if Hanami chose to lie, her friend would see the truth.

"Then what happened?"

"My heart just...it races when I'm near him. Ever since we met and it scares me." Hanami was surprised she could get all of that in one breath, much less in a sentence. She didn't dare poke her head out to see Yuna's reaction to her words, but Yuna released a sigh.

"Hana-chan, I think you're in love."

"What?"

"It's either that or you're terrified of Kaneki and that boy is hardly dangerous."

Hanami poked her head from her bundle of blankets, glaring slightly at Yuna. "Hardly dangerous is an understatement."

"Fine, he's dangerous for you since you have a crush on him." Yuna smiled at finally seeing Hanami's face, nudging at her foot with a knee before her expression became serious. "I'm happy for you, though. This is the first time you've genuinely liked a guy since you came to this school and all this started because of a book."

"It started because you introduced us," retorted Hanami, plopping her head on her pillow. She was silent for a moment before she continued. "He has the same eyes as me, Yuna."

"The same eyes? You don't think...?"

"I don't know. I don't want to ask because we're not that close. But I recognize that feeling I get around him now."

"What feeling?"

"Loneliness."

Yuna was silent as Hanami's words sunk in. The ravenette knew what the brunette meant; being friends for so long, how could she not? Yuna flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling before she spoke carefully. "Hide-kun told me that Kaneki-kun was going on a date tonight, Hana-chan."

Hanami inhaled inaudibly, but not once did she make a move to show how the news affected her. Why should she be bothered? Because of some small possibility of having a crush on him? He was free to date whomever he pleased!

But why does it bother me? Hanami wondered, as a strange, sick feeling oozed into her heart, winding its stalks within and around the organ. She recognized the ugliness of jealousy; she felt it before. However, she never felt it whenever it came to "having a crush" or remotely "love". She doubted it was due to either of those reasons.

"Hana-chan?" Yuna's hand landed on Hanami's leg in comfort and Hanami could only sigh again.

"Whomever he's going out with tonight must be really pretty," she mused aloud, her eyes staring at some corner of her apartment without really seeing it.

"You're not upset?"

"Why would I be? And don't say because of a crush."

"That was exactly my reason, but since you so adamantly deny that it's a reason--"

"Because it isn't a reason."

"My point is, I'd be upset if my crush dated someone else. It'd mean I missed out."

Hanami rolled her eyes before proceeding to bury herself back into her bundle of blankets. She bunched herself up into a ball, cursing herself within for running away and cursing herself for how easily swayed her heart appeared to be.

Yuna opted to stay the night, something Hanami never refused and with her mind jumbled as it was, it was quite needed. While she and Hanami were about to stream a low-budget horror movie after a hectic dinner and playfully fighting over who would take a turn in the bath, both in their pajamas and bundled with blankets, Yuna's cellphone chimed loud enough to tear through the drywall. Frowning, Yuna tossed off her blanket with gusto, bouncing to the edge of the bed to dig into her bag before finally pulling out the ringing smartphone from its hiding spot. "Huh, it's Hide-kun," she announced.

"So answer it," Hanami replied, bringing her knees up to her chest, her back against the wall. Yuna nodded, accepting the call and pressing the phone to her ear. "Hide-kun? Hi, what's up?" she greeted.

She was silent, listening to whatever Hide was saying before she suddenly let out a sharp, "What? When?"

It was barely a second before Yuna replied, "We're coming. We'll meet you there, just keep us posted if you make it there before we do."

"Yuna? What's wrong?" Hanami tilted her head, concern brewing within the depths of her stomach, mingling with the sensation that something was wrong.

Yuna turned her teal eyes toward Hanami, her expression grim with worry. "Hana-chan, get your shoes on. We're going to the hospital."

Hanami's eyes widened. "Hospital? Why--"

"Kaneki-kun was in an accident, Hana-chan. We have to go."

Adrenaline fired through Hanami's body, propelling her from where she sat. Her mind was centered on getting to the hospital as quickly as she was physically able; she was barely aware of jamming her feet into her shoes, barely aware that Yuna seized her hand. All Hanami knew was that she was running, her heart pumping into overdrive, and she only prayed that when they arrived that they wouldn't have to attend a funeral.

It was mere minutes and yet each second dragged in its own eternity before Hanami zeroed in on Yuna's voice calling out for Hide, right as her eyes focused on the worried blonde, standing outside of the hospital. He chewed on his lower lip, brown eyes drawn with so much concern that Hanami felt a lump in her throat. He gave a brisk nod, leading them inside of the hospital to sit at the waiting room.

"Hide-kun," Yuna murmured softly, "how is he?"

"Dunno. He's been in surgery for a while." Hide collapsed onto a chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. "He put me as his next of kin, so all I know I know is that he was in a real bad accident and they're giving him a transplant."

"From who?" Hanami managed to find her voice, ice sheening her blood.

Hide shrugged. "From what they could tell me, the girl he was with when the accident happened."

"Jesus," whispered Yuna, teal eyes loading with tears. "I can't even think of how...God, Hide-kun, I'm so sorry."

Hide shook his head. "Let's just hope he pulls through. If we lose hope, he might wimp out on us," he replied, trying to keep his voice strong, but Hanami could hear the tremors of worry. She lowered her gaze to the pristine tile floors, a low droning aching on her ears.

"He was worried about you, Hanami." Hide's voice caught Hanami's attention as crimson eyes flew to meet concerned brown orbs. "You weren't in school today. Even excited about his date as he was, all he could talk about was hoping you weren't sick."

"Why?" Hanami wished she could suck the word back into her mouth as soon as it passed her lips. Her expression crossed into a soft frown of confusion. "We aren't close, not like you how and he are. I..." She trailed off, biting down on her tongue mercilessly in hopes of tearing it off.

Yuna watched her with concerned eyes, but Hide spoke softly. "He cares about you, whether you two are close or not. You bonded and that's what's important. If you didn't care about him at all, you wouldn't be here, right?"

He hit the nail so blatantly on the head that Hanami couldn't even find it in herself to refute his statement. Her vision watered, blurring, until burning tears trailed down her cheeks and her hands covered her face. Deep within the recesses of her heart, Hanami prayed.

She prayed to whatever god existed that Kaneki Ken pulled through.

[dansnaturepictures]

19/09/22-Farlington Marshes and home

I enjoyed seeing Starlings, Collared Dove, House Sparrow looking lovely in the buddleia with bits of purple still one I took the third picture in this photoset of and notably for the first time I believe Jackdaw on the balcony feeders today, as well as Goldfinch adult and young and sedum, hebe, fuchsia, dahlia, black-eyed Susan and other flowers in the back garden with sunflower and other flowers looking nice on the balcony today. There are nice bits of colour on the buddleias at home still. It was nice to see a white butterfly I believe Small White out the window and a Rusty Dot Pearl moth which I took the second picture in this photoset of in the living room too another great new moth for me this year it is a nice one. I also liked taking in the green grass and basal growth on a tree out the front with noticeable dandelions on the green seen from home that have been springing up nicely again lately which the first picture in this photoset shows, during the sombre time watching the fitting and beautiful send off to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on this historic day.

We then went to Farlington Marshes as we did last Saturday and like then it was a good day for seeing ducks and waders. There was an especially delightful array of ducks with a fair few orange Wigeons around clumped together on the lake always a spectacular sight, with Mallard, Gadwall and Teal mixed in and some splendid Pintails one I love seeing here and at other places in the season. We got good views of Shelducks including I believe a youngster flying as we walked round to the cottage. Near there whilst chatting to someone looking for the Garganey we saw here a week and two days ago to all of our delight this smart and quite elusive bird flew out right in front of us, what a moment. A great intimate moment seeing this lovely bird only the second time I’ve seen one in flight. A fair few Redshanks and Greenshanks together on the lake made nice sights with very pleasing views of both gently flying in. Lapwing, Black-tailed Godwit which I took the tenth and final picture in this photoset of with Teal the godwits a nice bronze colour and Snipe were other great species to see to make me feel immersed into this coastal marshy habitat. It was a nice mindful walk being embraced by nature.

It was nice to see dragonflies probably Migrant Hawkers well again this afternoon.

It was a good walk for plants with clusters if not a sea of gone over teasel with hogweeed at seed and shadows of dock too adoring the car park I took the fourth picture in this photoset of some of the teasel. Scabious along the road, fleabane, ragwort, chamomile shining in the sun which I took the fifth picture in this photoset of, hawksbeard or ox tongue looking lovely, a little bit of yarrow, a bit of wild parsnip or fennel still in colour I’d not seen any for a while, a couple of types of thistle with one plant with four bits of purple flowering among fluffy clocks of it and nightshade and others making nice pretty sights too. Fluffy old man’s beard alongside pretty red hawthorn berries looked nice near the end of the walk, with rose hips and blackberries looking nice here today too. There were beautiful views of reedbeds, water glowing blue in the sunlight and distant countryside here today with striking sky scenes seen too. I took the sixth and eighth pictures in this photoset of views and seventh and ninth pictures in this photoset of the sky. There were pretty sky scenes on the way home and at home tonight too, it mostly clouding over to create gloomy scenes this evening felt quite autumnal with it getting dark earlier and earlier in evenings now. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary for Farlington Marshes: Two of my favourite birds the Little Egret and Shelduck, Garganey, Gadwall, Tufted Duck, Mallard, Teal, Wigeon, Pintail, Coot, Moorhen, Canada Goose with the immersive sight and sound of them flying up from a field in numbers and some coming down onto the lake others over, Redshank, Greenshank, Black-tailed Godwit, Lapwing, Snipe, Grey Heron well again this week, Herring Gull, Black-headed Gull, Herring Gull, Carrion Crow, Woodpigeon, a nice few Swallows again, Starlings gathering nicely, Linnet I believe, possible Migrant Hawker, Brown Rat and it was great to hear the sharp bursts of sound of a Cetti’s Warbler calling from within the reedbed at the lake.

[divinaes-bookofsecrets]

Private. Hello there I would like a spirit guide reading please -Rochelle (RS) ♉️

Hello 👋hi 👋 (🌺Rs)Rochelle are you a 🐂 ♉?

Really ... if I guessed you correctly you are Taurus in your natal birth chart (I am an aspiring astrologist and zlso do in-depth Astrology Reports based off of your natal birth charting so please do nog hesitate to ask for That next !

Your SpiritGuide is Cressida

💎🦋Galactic-Arctic Fox🦋💎

She is a mystical interterrestrial being from a galaxy through another realm not too far away but just out of reach !

Cressida has been with you since 2018 and should remain by your side as a companion, spiritual guardian 🙏 ✨ and your synchronicity lessons for the rest of your life.

Why is Cressida with me and trying to help or heal my situation and past situations or for future situations anyways? Well.. heres an in depth description of what this particular animal spirit totem means ..

Whats Cressida doing? How can I place her in my life and recognize her?

🦋Whether the White Arctic Fox appears in dreams, visions, waking life or synchronicities, it is a sign and message that you are to keep going, amid the test of your nature and character. Some powerful forces are working on your behalf to sort things out in a favorable outcome or way soon. Whatever you may be going through will soon pass. These tests and trials have made you stronger, and giving in is for the weak. You should realize how far you have come. You will be arriving to a place of rest and completeness soon. 🦋The Arctic Fox is a sign to trust yourself, above trusting anything or one outside of you. At least for the purpose of clarity. IN other words, it is time to pause, breathe, and receive insights from your oversoul or higher self. As a seeker of truth, you cannot allow someone or something else to dilute what you sense. Take time out to refuel so that you can come from a place of neutrality.🦋 You will need to be stubborn in a forthcoming opportunity and trust your instincts. Even if you collaborate with others, or cooperate with them, you must keep your eyes open as no one can look out for you the way that you can for yourself. In other words, watch your own back. Don’t give that responsibility entirely to others.🦋 The Arctic Fox teaches us that, we are only beings and we are all doing things to survive. Your trust is only owed to a higher source. You can cooperate with others, but the key is to look out for yourself always. Don’t just expect others to put you first. 🦋Always follow up, and if possible do things yourself when it comes to projects that require your creativity. The White Arctic Fox is a message that you want others to be better than what they are showing you. In other words, you are looking at the aspect of how a person can be and not what or who they truly are. If you are a part of a group of people who are being intentionally deceptive, it is best to clear up your acts now rather than later. 🦋The Arctic White Fox is about seeing beyond what we are shown, and hearing beyond what we are told. Your psychic senses will be heightened at this time.💎 Pay attention to what is being revealed. 🧿

⚠️This message isn't, obviously resonant with all whose paths it crosses, as perhaps you may come into contact with someone of this vernacular, mastery or skill. Therefore, it is a sign from the universe that you're meant to work with such a person. ⚠️

🦋What does She look like? 🥀

Her fur is multidimensional and is actually the softest known material other than silk in this universe and all other universes including hidden realms..

Since she is a Galactic Arctic Fox you'll expect to see that she looks rather like a regular Arctic White Fox from our home planet Earth🌍But has different highlights and dimensions to her skin and her fur body. She has *fur tattoos* which are blue-- they represent the Element Water(do you have a lot of water 💧in your natal birth charting , I suspect you do 😉 )Her fur tattoos are like a war paint that was branded onto her when she became fully mature and with the seasons her other markings show up - each season - has a different shade of white to blue hue or even teal like transference that takes place , its quite magickal to see.

What is Cressida's personality like?

🦋Cressida has a strong, but warm and gentle but also courageous and brave personality and soul as a Galzctic Arctic Fox 💙 ❤ 💖 She conducts herself with a sense if integrity in every situation(no matter what!) 🦋Integrity is a personal trait that has strong moral principles and core values and then conducting your life with those as your guide.🦋 She has a lot of compassion for all of humanity but especially you (Rs) ♉ This character traits example feels deep sympathy and pity for the suffering and misfortune of others, and you have a desire to do something to alleviate their suffering..She sees that you may be suffering maybe and has messages for you just about to come up .. old on we need to finish her character profile (bio)

🦋Cressida is an honest Galactic fox just as much of them are but there are more certainly the few bunches who are so mischievous that they are notdared to be messed with (worse than the worst fae)

🦋She has strong reliability. This SpiritGuidr's character quality can be consistently depended upon to follow through on your/her commitments, actions, and decisions. She does what she says you she will do.🥀🌍(88% of the time)

😷She hopes you wear a mask because she is very worried and concerned about your welfare during this coronairus. Please don't fall asleep 😴 🙏 😫 😪 😩 😭yet 😴you'll miss her message for you... im going to stop talking zbout her personality there id so much lol.

What is my SpiritGuide messages?

Cressida has a numerology message she has been sending you many other synchronicity but she asks that you pay attention next for the number # 536 if you haven't seen it by now already...

WHATS IT MEAN ANYWAYS?

Number 536 is a blend of the energies and attributes of number 5 and number 3, and the vibrations of number 6. Number 5 resonates with major life changes, making important choices and decisions, promotion and advancements, adaptability and versatility, personal freedom and individuality, life lessons learned through experience and resourcefulness. Number 3 offers assistance and encouragement, communication and enthusiasm, growth, expansion and the principles of increase, broad-minded thinking, self-expression, talent and skills. Number 3 also resonates with the energies of the Ascended Masters. Number 6 relates to love of home, family and domesticity, honesty and integrity, responsibility, compassion and empathy, finding solutions, grace and gratitude, the ability to compromise, emotional depth, provision and providing and the material aspects of life.

Angel Number 536 brings a message from your angels to maintain a positive attitude in regards to your monetary and financial circumstances as changes are taking place that will ensure that your material and monetary needs are met. Your positive affirmations, prayers and optimistic outlook have manifested opportunities to attract prosperity and abundance into your life. Trust that your Spirit Guide(s) especially Cressida.. will surround, support and guide you through these important changes.

Number 536 is a message to trust that the changes you may be going through are happening for your highest good. These changes may involve your career choices, your place of residence and/or an important relationship. Your angels support you through these changes and offer guidance and assistance to make transitions easier. Trust that these changes will have positive effects on your life and will ensure a continued supply of abundance to meet your daily wants and needs.

Number 536 encourages you to move forward with positive plans and ideas as they will prove to be most beneficial in all ways for yourself and your loved ones. 

Spiritual Messages...

Cressida wants you to be inspired, creative and most of all live out your destiny!!

🙏 Please take this advice seriously! You need to think about:

Surrounding yourself with people who reflect the character traits you want to embrace.

🦋They will inspire and motivate you to build these traits in yourself.

🦋Try to avoid people who have a weak character and make bad decisions.

🦋When you live your life being true to yourself and honest with others you manifest positive energies and desired results and outcomes. Speak your truths with gentleness and love and accept others with grace and understanding.

Monthly Message from your Spirit Guide ✨ 💛 ❤ 💖

A creak you hear in the dark could be the settling of an old house, or it could be a burglar creeping on the stairs. Loud voices you hear coming in through the windows could be your neighbors arguing, or it could be those same neighbors sharing good news. The lamp going out on your nightstand could be a sign that electricity has shut down, or it could mean you need a new bulb. There is often more than one way to interpret something, and usually there's nothing to worry about. Remember that today, Taurus, if you are tempted to follow worrisome thoughts. It's more likely there's nothing to worry about.

🦋🌍🦋

This is a great week(jan 11th to jan 17th) for you to finally finish one or two of those big projects you put on hold a while back. You may have thought you would never be able to get to them, but if you actually put this into your schedule and get started, you should see that it will all fall into place, and you'll get everything else done that needs to be done. This is also an ideal time to complete important conversations that were left dangling, maybe because there was no answer at the time, or because someone was being elusive about responding. You should find it easier now to get answers and receive honest reactions. Crossing all of these things off your long list will give you a great sense of satisfaction. You may even find that because of this efficiency, you will be inspired by a new idea that allows you to tap into a talent you have not used lately, and that would be a great idea. You have been very assertive in trying to attract an investor, team member, or partner for some project you want to take on. However, you are advised now to take a wait-and-see approach and be patient. What you need will materialize if you kick back a bit and let it come to you.

Thank you for meeting your Spirit Guide!! If you have any questions, concerns, or additional specific questions to ask your Spirit Guide you can always Astral travel and speak to her directly but; if you prefer that I take another independent in depth dive into your world I will 🌍🦋 🌎 I will answer up to 2 questions per ask Thanks for allowing this experience to take place, please 🙏

🦋Like && Share this post 📫 ✨

Much Love😍 ❤ Divinae

[sword-and-shield-writings]

Hey! Good luck with your super cute blog!!!! ABout the request: How about a SFW fluffy OneShot for Raihan who has a crush a t the cute female reader who works at the local Pokemarkt, but she is very very shy; How would he go about that?

Aaa thank you boo!! And this is the most adorable thing ever SJDKFSDHJG I love this so much <3 <3 <3 Hope you enjoy~

Art of The Hunt

Fandom: Pokemon Sword + Shield Rating: SFW Style: Oneshot Details: Raihan having a crush on a uber shy Fem!Reader who works at the local Pokemart.

His large hands held onto the small basket filled with pokemon care materials, it was so small compared to him it was almost laughable. Without thinking twice his hands reached instinctively for the top shelf for a box of the new Duraludon Polish for his ace, half-lidded teal eyes looking around the Pokemart lazily - he had been there so many times he didn’t even need to look for what he was grabbing, for he had something else on his mind. Or rather, someone. The tall bachelor of Galar, the Dragon Tamer of this vast region found himself gravitating toward a quiet soul that was hiding behind the protection of the Pokemart till, her eyes shifting from the keypad and the checkout display. Arceus she looks adorable today... Raihan mused to himself as he stood there on the other side of the Pokemart. The only time he ever thanked Arceus for his tall height was when he realized he could subtly look over the shelves of the Pokemart on his toes to see the young lady crunching numbers and flustering over greeting and waving goodbye to the customers as per her contract with her boss. 

She was like a little Deerling, so beautiful, adorable and will shy away from even the slightest and insignificant thing like eye contact or a stray compliment. A small smile played on the Gym Leader’s lips as he moved closer to the counter, lining up behind the small number of people lining up there. It was late in the evening, hardly anyone was in the Wyndon Pokemart and yet even when he desperately needed something from there he would wait until the wee hours of the night to catch a glimpse of the shy young lady. He could catch his heartbeat quicken when he opened his cabinet and realized he had run out of berry ingredients for his curry and would wait for hours until the hour hand on the clock hit 8 so he could get on his Flygon and get what he needed and then some. Right before it was his turn, he glanced down at a pack of bubblegum - he didn’t normally chew gum but every time he managed to snag an encounter with the elusive beauty she always smelled as if she was chewing this brand of bubblegum all the time. 

“H-Hello sir! Ho -” the young lady chimed softly before she froze and a blush crossed over from cheek to cheek, head tilting up to see the dragon type gym leader. Raihan smiled lazily as he gave her a playful yet lax salute. Her eyes widened as she continued, Raihan chuckling to himself as she did, “... H-how are you today...? Had a p-p-pleasant shopping... experience...?” She meekly asked, feeling her cheeks redden as she reached out for the first of many things Raihan “needed” to buy.

“Hey there.” Raihan hummed in his deep baritone voice, a small laugh hiding behind his words as he looked at her red cheeks - they might as well be little Cherubi, “And yes, a very nice experience. I love shopping here at night, there's hardly anyone around.” His eyes glanced over at the lady’s fingers, he wanted to hold onto them and see if they were really as soft as they looked. She nodded her head shakily and Raihan could practically hear her shaky breathing. 

“T-That’s good to hear s-sir.” She stammered - she only reason why she took this position was that she didn’t want to perform manual labour to stock the shelves and she didn’t want to wander about the mart and offer her services. Serving at the till would mean the least amount of contact and talking and social interaction besides the occasional small talk she had to make to upkeep a good impression for the Pokemart. 

“You can call me Raihan if you want.” He smiled softly, leaning down, “Everyone does, it’s no biggie. I shop here all the time, you can call me by a first name basis.” He smiled at her as she nervously looked up and he caught a glimpse of how beautiful her eyes were. They would be even more beautiful under the moonlight, on a walk with him after a nice dinner date.

“O-Oh, okay then... Raihan...” She murmured, her cheeks still red as she started to quickly check out his products. He shoved his hands in his pockets lazily as he watched her check them out, one by one, how she nervously pursed her lips as she checked the price stage with the check-out display, how she nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Everything about her drew him in and yet he was so far away from actually getting to know her. However, he was determined to try and make a start on it that evening. “T-That’ll be $126.50!” She chirped as she put them all in a large plastic bag.

Rahan nodded his head, taking out his credit card and shuffling through his pants pockets for a pen - he always had one on him just in case a fan wanted a signature on their shirt or Pokeball. As the flustered lady swiped the card on the machine and shakily gave it back to him, she turned her body around to wait for the receipt, trying to stay calm. Swiftly, Raihan shuffled his hand through the bag for the packed of bubblegum and started scribbling on it.

“He-Here you go si- I mean, Raihan!” The lady managed out as she tore the receipt form the little printer and turned around to find him... gone. A small exhale left her lips as she leaned against the wall behind her, fanning herself. “O-oh jeez...” She muttered, patting her cheeks to cool them off. Her eyes scanned her work station, moving to clean it like she did after every other customer to maintain the cleaning policy they had when she caught sight of something - a stick of bubblegum from her favourite brand. She looked around, seeing if Raihan was anywhere around but to no avail. Shoot, did I forget to put this in?? Oh, my boss is gonna kill me! She fretted as she picked it up... and saw something on it. It was small and in dark blue writing. She brought it close to her face to read it and her eyes widened in surprise and her blush darkened further (if that was even possible).

“Here’s my number if you’re interested, no pressure :) Enjoy the gum <3 - Raihan″

As the young lady started to freak out behind the till, the tall man chuckled watching her from afar, sitting on top of his Flygon. His pokemon looked up at him expectantly before he placed his large hand over its head, “Alright, alright, let’s go home.” He murmured before his pokemon took off into the night silently, sporting him away from Wyndon to Hammerlocke. He was a patient man, he had to be to handle dragon types, and it was certainly needed in the art of the hunt. If he didn’t get her that time, he’ll try again. Eventually, he’ll be able to coax that little Deerling out from the shrubs. Eventually.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Cats and crystals- Lukadrien June Day 27

Fueled by tiredness and the desire to post something for the ending days of @lukadrien-june since come Monday my summer job officially starts and I plan on washing my hair tomorrow which is an all day affair so we’ll see if something get’s posted tomorrow. I got inspired by @write-it-motherfuckers prompts, the first chunk of this actually taken from one of their prompts with changes for Adrien’s gender and such. The other was the possible werecat one who gives them precious stones. It was almost the cat who gives it’s new owner it’s past owners necklace but I couldn’t come up with much. A lot of supernatural cats, wish I had more time. Anyway, please enjoy Cats

Ever since he was little, Adrien always had a strange affinity for cats. No matter where he was, they seem to drawn to him. It isn’t uncommon for strays or other people’s pets to approach him when he was out and about. He’d even watched the big cats at the zoo’s react similarly, bounding over to the glass and rubbing against it insistently. Don’t even get him started when he had a photoshoot with lions – his father didn’t want to but the photographer insisted it went with the theme and had signed so many agreements that the designer would sue him to high hell if anything happened to Adrien. They treated Adrien like he was a cub, messing up his hair and growling at anyone they thought was bothering him until he would pet them mimicking their noises.

It didn’t surprise anyone that when he finally moved out of his father’s eyes, he ended up with quite a few cats living with him. He had been unable to send them on their way, when they were so in need of some love. He grew up with scatter giving of love from someone who was supposed to take care of him, he didn’t want the same for them if he could do something about it. That’s what brought him here, buying a massive amount of cat food at 3am on a Sunday.

As he turned from the now almost empty shelf, ready to go in search of the last few items, he ran straight into a broad chest. Looking up, he stammered a flustered apology, heart pounding with fright. For a moment, he swore their eyes flashed, pupils pulled into slits, but the second you blinked, they were back to normal, or as normal as teal green to aqua blue eyes could be. Ok, maybe he shouldn’t be so judgemental. Marinette’s eyes seemed to be different shades of blue based on her mood and the sunlight reflecting off of them. but he could have sworn the person’s eyes went from blue to green, almost the green some of his kitties’ eyes were, and back again.

The person in front of him, a guy, had dark hair, streaked with so much blue it almost looked like the black had been added in, not the other way around. The small exposed holes of his gauges were mostly hidden by his hair and the hood of his oversized sweatshirt. He wasn’t saying anything, more so staring at the necklace around Adrien’s neck.

There was one particular cat that Adrien took care of but didn’t live with him. The cats didn’t mind the cat, but they never stayed. Only stuck around long enough to beg for pets, steal human food from his plate and give Adrien precious stones and crystals. He was not kidding, he had a ruby, emerald and onyx hidden in his apartment, the crystals taking up residence on the counters and ledges of his home. The one around his neck was a chrysoprase, already held in a next of firm cord, dangling from a piece of soft cord that didn’t irritate his neck. He’d been so moved by the gift; he rarely took it off.

“Um?”

That seemed to break whatever spell was on the guy as he looked up and at Adrien. “It’s pretty, the necklace.”

“Thanks. Um, I’ll see you around.”

Adrien quickly left the aisle, trying to calm his still heavily beating heart. It wasn’t until he was in the taxi heading back home, he realised something. That particular teal green he swore he saw, was the same colour as the eyes in his gift giving feline visitor.

                                               ___________________

Loud chorus of meows followed him as he refilled the many water fountains for the cats. Most of them followed him to the bathroom and wouldn’t stop bothering him to turn the sink on so this was his solution. He was sure they were also hungry. They always were. A knock echoed and Adrien let out a groan. He was sure it was one of his neighbours coming to tell him off for the loud meowing. He quickly opened the door, stopping at the sight of the guy from the pet store. The one with the eyes.

This time he wasn’t mindless staring at him. He looked embarrassed.

“Hi, um, do you think you could help me? I locked myself out of my apartment. I live across the hall.”

So, this was the elusive neighbour he had. He met all his other neighbours, who all wanted to meet the former model but not this one.

“Do you need me to call the landlord?”

“Could you? I only planned to be out for five minutes, so I left my phone.”

“Sure. Um, why don’t you come in?”

His first sign something was up was the fact that the cats didn’t all scatter to their favourite hiding places when a new person came in. instead, they all gathered at his feet. He took no time leaning down and petting as many as possible.

“Weird, they love you. Usually they all run away.”

“Guess I’m lucky. I’m Luka by the way. Adrien, right? Sorry about startling you at the store.”

“Oh, that’s ok. Um, I’ll go call the landlord.”

His next clue something was up was when Luka quickly found the snacks. His cats were smart, with enough effort, they’d be able to get treats all the time. Adrien had them hidden in a tin in his pantry, yet Luka knew exactly where to look.

“Landlord said he’d be right up. How did you find those?”

“Oh, they kept pawing at the door. Is it ok?”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

His next clue was when one of the cats, Mikki, went missing when it was time for Adrien to cut her nails. Luka eyed the clipper distrustfully and seemed to inch his way to where his keyboard was leaning against the wall. It wasn’t until the landlord arrived and Luka had to go, he found Mikki hiding behind his keyboard. Either he had a stalker or Luka was more intuitive to cats than he was.

Later that night, his usual visitor came by, a new gem in their mouth. A blue tigers eye. The blue and black of the gem reminded him of Luka.

“I swear his eyes were the same as yours, just for a moment. Impossible I know, but still.” The cat just seemed to have a Cheshire like smile on their face.

What really and truly tipped him off was when he had a dinner with his father. It was part of their deal for Adrien moving out, dinner with him every Friday. He hated it. He’d spend the day cuddling any cat that came by, hoping something would happen so he wouldn’t have to go. He’d actually spent the day cuddling his usual visitor, loudly complaining how he didn’t want to go to dinner with his father and how none of his friends were free that night but he even though he told them not to cancel their plans to help him, he just wanted someone there to distract him. The cat disappeared, leaving a kunzite crystal and minutes later, Luka knocked on the door.

“Hi?”

“Hey, um, I was passing by your door and I happened to hear you complaining about dinner with your dad and I wanted to offer some help, as a thanks for helping me?”

Thing was, Adrien had been doing most of his complaining in his room. He didn’t know if it was his overactive imagination that cause him to think that, but the only thing he could think of was, was his usual visitor and Luka connect? Was Luka a werecat?

Common sense should have told him to say no, slam the door closed and never interact with him again. But Adrien didn’t usually lead with common sense. It was what got him all the cats in his apartment.

“Sure. We’re having salmon tonight according to Nathalie. That ok?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”