#witchling responds

[that--witchling]

For the tarot game: 7, 13, and 22!

7- Who's an artist you wish would make a tarot deck?

Oooh that's a hard one. I'm not too sure to be completely honest but it would be really cool to see a Van Gogh deck

13- Opinions on decks that include "key words" for each card's meaning printed on the card?

I think it's nice! And it can be really helpful for beginners to get a hang of things :)

22- Free space! Rant, brag, break out the hot takes on anything tarot- or collection-related, or answer any of the other questions that you wish had been asked!

I personally think in some readings and circumstances The Fool reversed can be a way to show the end of a journey. Not sure if this is a hot take or anything, but I think it can be a great interpretation 😅

[simpjaes]

personally im a munch sunghoon TRUTHER so the concept of incubus sunghoon that loooves eating pussy makes me insane... like he doesnt even need to fuck or anything he gets his energy from muff diving. just a thought

warning: traditional incubus, non-con/dub-con, somnophilia, breeding kink, pregnancy.

trad!incubus sunghoon, where you wake up one night drenched in more than just sweat.

Sticky and messy, your body throbbing as if you've been touched awake. As if...you're still being touched. It's not painful, but it's uncanny how searing the feeling between your legs is. You can feel the tensing of something against you, the flicking of your swollen clit by nothing more than a barely visible shadow until--Oh, is that...a man?

You squint hard, your legs trying to close but being met with something blocking the movement. You rub your eyes as you try to make out the image of who, or what has woken you up this way.

A stranger, one you've never seen in your life but still you somehow fall into that darkened and piercing gaze as he...licks between your legs with his eyes flicking upwards toward you.

Sunghoon, a notorious incubus who visits women at night when he deems fit, name never mentioned or even known to anyone of the earthly plane but- always a welcome entity with or without realizing it's reality and not so much a dream.

In his experience, many incubus demons tend to be quite unpleasant to look at, which is why he does this. The form of a man, one so beautiful no woman would fight or panic. They'd give in, over and over again, until he sucks the soul straight out of them along with that sweet slick and he's allowed to embed an evil little offspring.

Sunghoon grew bored of the forceful acts after the first four hundred centuries. He likes it when a woman of earth yearns for him. To the point he's even given up the immediate fucks for hours of foreplay. His body reacts the same as it does when he's fucking a woman senseless as it does when he's got his mouth on the sweetest spot.

You're one of these women to him. This is the first time he's ever been rough enough to wake you of your slumber. Typically, his visits end in a nice little too-wet dream for his objects of desire. Sometimes, he wakes them on purpose. Other times, he wakes them entirely without intention.

He just...couldn't help it when it came to you. Time and time again he's paid visits here, slurping up every ounce of your sleepy desire until he's forced to leave upon the rising sun. Always satisfied with the act of releasing his demonic cum without so much as using his cock. Just his mouth, it's all he fucking needs.

And Oh, to feed his sons and daughters to you, to create little witchlings and devil boys from the very flesh of you for doing this to him.

He'd stare for hours at your sleeping form, drooling and tasting every tiny bit of your skin before devouring you from the center. Sliding his tongue so deep, so hot inside of you. When you sleep, you respond well.

Tonight though, as you stir, you respond even better. To the point of searing your fingertips trying to grab hold of his hair as if you want more.

"More?" Sunghoon speaks for the first time in centuries to a so-called victim, his voice deep, rumbled, and echoing off of the night against your window.

You feel the voice hit you right in the clit, followed by a sharp nibble against it before a...forked tongue fondles its way back inside of you.

You whimper and nod, thrusting up against the solid-formed shadow of a handsome devil.

More is what you want.

And more is what you'll get.

More than you'd have ever expected. More than you can handle. More, more, fucking more.

Until you're waking up in the morning, well-rested yet trembling from your intense "dream."

Only, it isn't long until your body swells. Plump, searing feelings in your belly.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xxv – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count:  4,100+

masterlist

Y/N wanted to wake up to Eris’ warmth wrapped around her, to have his autumn scent taking over her senses once again, and his strong arms reminding her that she was protected, safe. 

But Eris had left hours ago – and so stealthily that Y/N had no idea when. 

Instead, Y/N had shot up in bed breathing heavily. 

There had been a surge of power. So strong that it jolted the witch from her deep sleep. 

Both her movements and the surge woke Ronan up, growling as if there was danger in the bedroom. 

“Eris,” Y/N breathed. 

Somehow she knew the power had erupted from him. 

Something was wrong – very wrong. Even the night Eris had defeated Beron, even the night Y/N followed him deep into the forest to test his new strength…she had never felt such power come from Eris. 

If he were using it now, then he was under some sort of attack. 

Y/N jumped out of bed, flinging off her nightgown and threw on trousers and a tunic – quicker than worrying herself with a dress or a damn corset. 

If she was off to battle, she would order a sentry to fetch her the same armor Eris had forced upon her before. 

But Y/N needn’t look far, for as soon as she flung the door open, she was met with a handful of sentries standing guard outside her chambers.

Amongst them were all of Eris’ smoke hounds. And as soon as they heard their master’s mate open the door, they had shot to their feet and whined with anticipation. 

Y/N’s eyes raced amongst the sentries, half expecting Lucien to be with them.

But Eris’ brother was nowhere to be found, which meant he was surely with him. 

“Where is the High Lord?” She asked curtly. 

“There was rebellion in Drumenthoul,” the highest ranking responded quickly. She recognized him well enough to know his name: Captain Respen. 

Her brow furrowed. “Lord Muiris’ demesne?” 

“Yes, my lady. It is one of Autumn Court’s largest cities. Its subjects attacked the manor of the late lord, after they heard of the attack on you. His son retaliated, using what was left of his father’s army to wreak havoc on his own people. But it appeared to be an attempt at a trap.” 

Y/N’s stomach dropped. “Walk with me,” she ordered all of them. 

Instantly, they fell into step with her. 

“Ready my horse with my weapons,” she continued. One of the sentry rushed ahead to do as she asked, making his way to the stables. “I must go to him.” Then she looked at Captain Respen and silently told him to continue.  

“Before the attacks started, Lord Muiris’ son had called for reinforcements...from any Lord who did not agree with the High Lord’s usurping.” 

“They knew Eris would aid his people and they used that to lure him intro a trap with a bigger enemy than he could have anticipated,” Y/ noted aloud. 

“Precisely, my lady.” He didn’t hide how impressed he was with her intelligence. She had the makings of a High Lord's wife, despite her mortal and witchling upbringing.

“Do not fear though, Lady Y/N. Eris anticipated such an attack. He brought his best infantry.” Respen hesitated before he added, “And he has gained much power since becoming High Lord.” 

Y/N knew Respen was trying to calm her, to assure her Eris couldn’t be in danger. But no words would calm her.

“And you were left behind to guard me?” Annoyance was clear in her voice. 

“Protecting the High Lord’s mate is no lowly task, Lady Y/N. It is a great honor. The High Lord will take no chances at you being attacked while he is preoccupied with civil war. It would be the exact time for an assassination attempt.” 

When they reached the courtyard, Aengus was indeed ready, with her sword, bow, and satchel of arrows attached to the saddle.

But Y/N suddenly remembered that Drumenthoul was on the north coast of the court.

She had included cardiography in her Autumn Court studies. And it would take days to reach. 

Why had no one said anything?

“Can someone winnow me?” She asked. 

All the soldiers shifted uncomfortably, not meeting her gaze. 

Captain Respen was the one who broke the silence. “We are under strict orders to do no such thing.”

He at least had the decency to look guilty about it. 

That was why no one had questioned her orders to grab her mount: she would never get close to the danger in time.  

“Lucien is with them?” She asked quietly. 

He nodded. 

“So I am to just wait here?” 

Before anyone could answer her, there was another surge of power. 

Between the courtyard of the Forest House and the outer gates, there was a half mile. 

But despite the distance, Y/N could see him – no – she could feel Eris. And she sensed that something was not right. 

The next second, she was jumping onto Aengus, and digging her heels into gelding. The horse needed no other signals to throw him into a run. 

“Accompany Lady Y/N,” was the last thing Y/N heard before she was in the forests and meadows between the courtyard and outer wall. 

When she was close enough to take in her mate, she noted that while Eris was walking on his own, his entire body was tense. 

A gust of wind hit her. “He is injured…faebane…faebane…faebane.”

Another gust of wind. “He took…his beastly form.”

Y/N had heard of the High Lord’s beast form from a night of drinking with Cassian. He tried to scare her by sharing the murderous creatures she could stumble upon in the Prythian wilderness. 

“But none are more terrifying than the beasts of High Lords," he had whispered to her for dramatic effect. Then went into great detail of the few times in his centuries when he witnessed Rhysand’s own beastly form. 

Y/N still didn’t know much about them, but she did know it drained one's power. It was no parlor trick, but a skill that only a powerful High Lord could wield – and use sparingly. 

That must have been the blast of power that had woken her up. 

When she was just a few yards away, Y/N swung her leg over the side of the saddle and jumped while Aengus still cantered and had yet to come to a stop. 

“Eris!” Y/N gasped at the sight of him. 

Though he walked on his own, Lucien watched his eldest brother with caution a few steps behind him.

And now Y/N could see that Eris had at least twenty arrows sticking out of his back. 

Then she heard the galloping of her guard catching up to them. 

As soon as Eris’ spotted them, his posture straightened even more. 

He does not want to appear weak in front of his men, Y/N realized. 

“The infantry?” Y/N asked the two of them. 

“Only a handful lost,” Lucien told her. “But many injured. They are being winnowed. The rest will return on horseback.”

Y/N turned to her guard. “Ready the infirmary tents! The injured will be returning any moment. Have a female alert the human women that I will need their help. They will know what to prepare.” 

Captain Respen barked orders at the others, but he and another lingered. 

“Leave us,” she ordered them, more harshly than she ever would if the situation did not call for it. 

Respen eyed Eris. 

“Do as my mate demands, Captain.” The High Lord finally spoke.

Y/N was surprised by how strong his voice sounded, when it was becoming more and more clear to her how much pain he was in. 

Respen and his lieutenant nodded before galloping back to the Forest House. 

Once they were out of eyesight, Eris fell to his hands and knees. 

“Eris!” Y/N whispered, not wanting any fae senses picking up their panic. 

“For Cauldron’s sake!” Lucien growled as he helped his brother off the ground with Y/N. 

Y/N carefully put one of his arms over his shoulder, while Lucien did the same with his other arm.

“How bad?” She hissed.

“I shall live,” Eris muttered. 

His pale skin was not its usual glow, but sickly looking. His hair was covered in mud and blood – and she could only hope most of it was not his. 

“It’s the faebane,” she acknowledged. 

Eris and Lucien looked at her with surprise. But she ignored them. 

“Can you ride?” She whispered to Eris. 

He gave her a shaky nod. “Behind you,” he clarified. 

She nodded and whistled for Aengus. “Lucien, help me get him in the saddle.”

Y/N climbed on first, and pulled him up as Lucien lifted from the ground. 

Eris growled at the pain, making her heart race with panic. 

As soon as he was sitting, Y/N gave orders. “Lucien, get a cot brought to my witchery.  Do it yourself and tell no one. Discretion is key.”

Lucien nodded and winnowed to the Forest House. 

“You want to show them how strong you are, then show them,” Y/N muttered before she urged Aengus into a gallop. 

When they got closer, she softly urged him. “Take the reigns.”

Eris did as she said. 

Y/N knew why Eris did not winnow back into the Forest House on his own. She knew why he would not show pain, despite his back being littered with faebane-poisoned arrows. There were those who still questioned his power. Therefore, he would not show weakness. 

Instead, it looked like two lovers returning after sharing a relieved embrace. 

Y/N jumped down from Aengus and handed the horses to a stableboy, making sure not to watch Eris with worry as he dismounted on his own. 

“Make sure all the healers have been alerted,” Eris told his sentries. Then he looked over his shoulder of the forest and meadow they had just come from. 

With the wave of his hand, a hundred tents appeared out of nowhere. Healer tents for the injured that would soon be brought back. 

“Come,” Y/N offered her hand to her mate. 

Eris didn’t hesitate, taking it and letting her lead him into the Forest House. 

——

Y/N had offered Eris a pain relieving tonic, but he refused it. 

Not having time to argue with him, she fluttered about her witchery, brewing a potion and cutting herbs. 

All while Eris sat patiently on the cot Lucien had snuck in.

Within minutes, Y/N had a healing paste ready. 

“The arrows,” she gulped. “Shall I remove them one by one or all at once?”

Eris met her gaze over her shoulder, “All at once.”

“I will help,” Lucien offered. 

“Touch me with your grimy hands and I will set you alight,” Eris growled in warning. 

Y/N ignored the outburst. “Ready?” She whispered. 

He nodded. 

But Y/N moved in front of him and crouched before him. She took both of his hands in her own, squeezing them lovingly.

She closed her eyes and started chanting a spell.

And Eris immediately felt his back start to heat. 

Even as a bystander, Lucien felt the witch’s power fill the room. 

Eris almost forgot he was about to suffer, too enamored with watching his mate take over with her magic. 

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, but they looked at no one and nothing. 

Lucien watched as they glazed over in white, which they had all put together was only when she was stretching her magic to new and powerful heights. 

And then, as if there was an invisible lasso around all of the two dozen arrows in his back, Y/N’s spell got louder and then abruptly stopped. Along with her spell ending, the arrows were all ripped from Eris’ back in one pull. 

But the only noise that came from the High Lord was a low growl. 

Y/N gasped at the exertion of power, and was quickly trying to catch her breath. 

But her eyes had returned to normal. 

Lucien leaned over to look at Eris’ back. “Well, you sure got all of them.” Then he bent down to pick up the fallen arrows from the ground, burning them in his palm until they were ash. 

“You better clean that up,” Y/N warned as she saw it flutter to the floor. 

She turned her attention back to Eris. “Alright?”

He just nodded. 

“I must clean the wounds individually now,” she told him gently. “Some will need stitching, but not many.”

Silence filled the room as the real work began. Y/N treated Eris’ wounds as if he were made of glass. She was gentle and kind, always giving him a moment when his body tensed with pain. But he never complained and barely made a sound. 

“It was not…it was not how it should be,” Lucien finally spoke after some time. He was sitting on the ground now, knees propped up as he watched from the corner.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with confusion. 

Lucien watched Eris, who would not meet his gaze. “Beron’s beast form was that of a multi-tailed fox – still a tremendous size – and with the wings of an owl. Smaller than the beasts of the other High Lords, but still ever so deadly.” 

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And…?”

But Lucien didn’t speak. 

“I was something else,” Eris finally answered, trying to pass through the subject. 

“Something more,” Lucien corrected darkly. 

“I don’t understand,” she admitted quietly. 

But Eris just stared at the ground, his face emotionless. 

Lucien cleared his throat awkwardly, but continued. “He too turned into a fox, but that of a bear – something to rival even Tamlin. He had the antlers of our court’s stag. And the flames…he was engulfed in flames.”

Was it fear in Lucien’s tone... or awe? Y/N couldn’t figure it out. 

Lucien finally finished with, "The arrows you pulled from his back are just those of hundreds that failed to take him down.” 

“Then I shall thank this beast when I see him,” Y/N snapped. “For he seems to be the reason that Eris returned alive.” 

That was her only warning to Lucien to stop his antics. 

“Leave us,” Eris ordered his youngest brother. 

He didn’t need to be told again. 

“I will check on the injured,” Lucien announced to no one in particular. 

He closed the door louder than necessary, making both of them roll their eyes. 

The only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire in the witchery. 

“How do you know how to treat faebane?” Eris’ tone instantly switched to the softness that was only reserved for his mate. 

“I shall tell you when you tell me why you ran into battle without waking me," she countered grimly. 

Eris was smart enough to look guilty, even though she couldn’t see his face as she worked on his back. “I did not wish to worry you.” 

“And being woken up by your surge of power was not more worrisome?” 

“I did not realize you would sense my magic in such a way,” he admitted. 

Y/N paused her healing and walked around to look down at him. “You could have been killed, Eris. And I never would have even said goodbye.” 

Without hesitating, Eris reached up and gently grasped the back of her neck, pulling her down until her lips crashed to his. 

She was sure the movement did not feel good for his back. But one would never know from the way his body only tried to pull her in further.

The subject was lost for a few moments, while their lips moved together.

Eventually, they pulled apart. 

“You are right,” Eris told her, voice raspy. 

“I am right?” She questioned, suddenly forgetting what they had even been talking about before he kissed her. 

“I should have woken you before I left,” he clarified. 

Then he smirked. “But I knew you would have tried to come.” 

“Of course I would have!” She admitted with a playful glare. 

His eyes darkened in warning. “You cannot rush into battle alongside me every time there is danger I must face, Y/N.”

“And why not?”

“Because I need you safe. Do you forget why you are here? And because these are not your battles to fight."

Y/N looked into his eyes before she answered, “They would be if I accepted the bond.”

She yelped when she was suddenly sitting across Eris' lap. He had pulled her so swiftly that there was no stopping it. 

“Do not tease me with such things, witch.” 

His body felt so hot, it was as if there was fire itself beneath his skin.  

Y/N swallowed. “I need to finish healing your back, High Lord.” 

Eris watched her before allowing her to get up. 

A tension filled silence settled in the room. 

“Will you let me see your beast form?” She finally asked him, her tone innocent. 

Eris smirked, only because he knew she couldn’t see it. “Why, so you can make me your pet, like Ronan?”

“I think it would be rather hard to cuddle a grizzly fox that was immersed in flames…” She thought aloud. “Cuddles would be much easier when you are in this form.”

Y/N had finished with her spells and healing salve, and was now wrapping Eris in gauze to keep it in place and protect the mending. 

“Where is this torment coming from?” Eris asked as he slowly stood. 

Y/N stepped to him, her eyes seemingly innocent. 

Then she suddenly kissed him again, but pulled away only after she bit the corner of his lip, making him hiss – not from the pain, though it did sting – from arousal. 

“For not waking me,” she answered, as if it were obvious. 

She stormed out of the witchery and threw open the door to his bedchambers that were next down the hall. 

“Also, I put a sleep tonic on my lips. So you will want to get in bed in the next few minutes, or you will be passing out on the cold, hard floor. And if you ruin my hard work from that, I shall punish you even worse.” 

Eris looked at her, utterly stunned. 

“You poison your High Lord?" His eyes narrowed playfully. “Finally, your true self is revealed: you are an evil, little witch after all.” 

She ignored his teasing. “To bed, now.” 

Eris sauntered past her into his personal bedchambers. 

She waited until he sat on the bed, then she slammed the door behind her. 

Instantly, she started chanting a protection spell. 

Yes, she had just knocked Eris out, which left him even more vulnerable than he already was with his injuries and exertion of power from using his beast form. 

Therefore, she would not leave him unprotected. 

She knew his guards would be lingering further down the hall. Lucien would have ordered to give the two of them space until further orders. 

All of them straightened to attention when they saw her round the corner.

“The High Lord is to stay in his rooms and rest,” she explained firmly. “If he comes out, do not engage. One of you is to inform me immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lady Y/N.” They all said in unison. There was no mockery or questioning; their tones held only respect and understanding. 

—🍁—🍁—🍁—

Eris awoke feeling much better than he probably should – and he knew he had Y/N to thank for that. 

It was dusk now. And he’d left for battle before the sun had risen that morning. So he must’ve been asleep for quite some time. 

Y/N’s poison had knocked him out so quickly that he hadn’t even bathed since battle. Though she had cleaned his wounds, he probably smelled of sweat and blood. 

Eris quickly went to his bathroom and bathed, finally ridding himself of the battle filth. 

Then he threw on a simple tunic and trousers, and rushed out of his chambers. 

His sentries were waiting for him and bowed immediately. 

“The injured?” He asked, getting straight to the point. 

Captain Respen stepped forward. “Tended to, High Lord.” Then paused before he added, “More were lost, their injuries to dire. The healers did all they could.” 

Eris frowned, but gave a slow nod. 

“Where is my mate?” 

All the sentries behind their captain shared a look, silently communicating. 

“She insisted that you are to stay in your bedchambers and rest,” Respen explained.

Eris ignored that. “Where is she?” 

——

Eris entered the grounds where all the healer tents had appeared. He expected to hear moans of pain or tears of grief. But there was a subtle peace amongst the camp. 

The sun had just passed the horizon, leaving the forest and sky with a unique mixture of faded blues and oranges. 

“This way, High Lord,” Captain Respen nodded in a direction past the tents. 

Servants had erupted countless fire pits to both warm the camp and make visibility easier for everyone, despite faelights glowing inside each healer tent. 

Eris’ walk slowed when he heard the giggling and laughter. 

It was not a common sound in Autumn Court.

Once they walked past the last of the tents, Eris halted. 

Y/N, ran around with the mortal children they had been sheltering. It appeared they were playing a game of tag. But every time one of them got away from her grasp, a gust of wind would tickle them, causing a fit of giggles. 

“She has been running around all day, aiding the healers in any way she can. She has saved many lives today.” Captain Respen told him quietly. “When someone finally managed to get her to take a break, she came to entertain the children whose mothers were still helping the wounded.” 

Eris didn’t respond, just watched his mate, who looked utterly exhausted, yet smile and played with the children despite it. 

“Will she stay?” Respen dared to ask his High Lord the question that all of Autumn Court had come to wonder. 

Eris ignored him, but the clenching of his jaw was visible. 

He stepped towards his mate, purposely making noise to bring attention to his arrival. 

The children’s laughter stopped immediately at the sight of the High Lord. Some of them even eyed him with fear. 

“It is alright,” Y/N assured them.

Then she beckoned Eris closer, to her. 

He did as requested, following that invisible string attached to his heart.

“Is it true you turned into a beast?” One of the brave children asked hurriedly. 

Y/N bit back her smile. 

“Can you show us?” Another cried out before Eris could even answer. 

“I do not think your mothers would appreciate that,” Eris told them. 

“I don’t have one. So can you at least show me?” Another begged. 

“Now, now,” Y/N playfully scolded them. "The High Lord is far too powerful to show off his gifts like some court jester.” 

“Awww!!!” They all whined in unison. 

But Eris kneeled before them, pausing dramatically to get their attention back. 

The children leaned in, believing they changed his mind. 

With a subtle and small flick of Eris’ wrist, his palm twisted to the sky, and fireworks erupted above them. 

The children cheered and jumped underneath the fireworks as they continued to erupt in every color they could ever want, some even turning into little animals before exploding. 

They tried to catch the falling light in their hands. But it would always disappear before they could, creating a new game for the children. 

Y/N moved to her mate’s side to join him in watching the new joy.

“Neat trick," she told him.  

Eris gave her a shy smile. “I used to do the same for Lucien when he was a child. Sometimes it was the only thing that could stop his crying fits after father… reprimanded him.” 

But they both knew it was more than reprimanding.

Eris sighed. “It has been so many centuries, I almost forgot about it entirely...until now. 

“How are you feeling?” Y/N asked him. 

“I am fine,” he answered too quickly. 

She sighed, but didn’t push. 

“My guards say you have not rested since tending to me,” he pointed out. 

She shrugged dismissively. “There were many injured. And the healers were overwhelmed. I helped as much as I possibly could.”

“And I am grateful for it.” He countered. “But for someone who does not wish to join this Court, you certainly care about its inhabitants.” 

“Shhh,” she warned. “None of that. I am quite tired.” 

The next second, Eris had scooped Y/N up in his arms. 

“Eris!” She admonished. “Your injuries!”

“My injuries are healing – thanks to you.”

Eris passed his guards, who had been watching over them from a distance. “Once the fireworks finish, make sure the children return to their mothers and caretakers.”

“Of course, High Lord. The children will be looked after.” Captain Respen bowed. 

When they were at the doors of the Forest House, Eris locked eyes with one of the footman who stood at the ready. 

“Bring dinner to her bedchambers,” he ordered. 

The footman nodded and rushed off. 

Eris looked down to see that Y/N had closed her eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck. 

“Are we too tired for a bath?” He asked quietly. 

Without opening her eyes, Y/N mumbled. “Never too tired for a bath.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “Good. It is my turn to take care of you.” 

“Will you promise that I will wake up next to you tomorrow morning?” 

“I promise, Y/N.” 

-----------

Thank you thank you thank you for your patience. I'm sure no one will read this...but work was really terrible around the holidays. I was trying to find a new job, but the job market is so terrible. So my mental health just took a real hit. I've also really gotten back into reading, so that because my thing unwind after work, instead of writing. I had also been doing a lot of different personal art projects – painting, editing, and photographing. And those started feeling better than writing for me.

Anyways...thank you for those who stuck with me and were patient and supportive.

[thanatoseyes]

*Someone mentions 💀 in the server*

Me: Hello tis I your humble Thanatos devotee. Let me impart my wisdom of the dead into your wanting fingers. *Throws good read links at you* good day fellow country man!

I'm so chronically introverted I get heart palpitations just responding to comments on open discussion boards in Discord.

[im-a-writer--im-in-distress]

The Witchling (Part I)

Insert with: Ruhn Danaan

Reader: Female (she/her)

Words: 2100+

About: Ruhn and his girlfriend are having a rough night…

Warning(s): (spoilers for this story ahead) violent fighting, character death, near death, vampirism (TVD), werewolf bite (sorry, Ruhn)

A/N: Day Six of Ruhn Week 2024! The prompt is "Night". @ruhnweek New stories all week! So, y’all can blame @danikamariewrites for this post, because that’s what gave me this idea. I was at a loss for this day until I saw that (amazing!) post. So, yeah. @danikamariewrites your fault.😏 (I’m already working on a Part II. *cough cough*)

Ruhn sat on the edge of his desk at the Aux, phone pressed to his ear. "I’m so sorry I can’t be there to see you off."

Your laughter floated through the line, though it did little to ease his guilt. "Stop, it’s fine. The city needs you more than me. I can manage one night without some grand farewell."

He ran a hand through his hair. "You know I’m always here for you, right? Even when you’re out with your coven?”

"You worry too much, prince. We take care of each other.” Your heart tightened at the lie you told, your fingers tracing the edge of the blood bag hidden in your coat. “Plus, I have my own magic to protect me, remember?"

"I know, but…" He hesitated. I want to be with you. "I just hate the thought of you out there without me."

"I know," you whispered, showing your heart. "And I love that about you. But you have to trust me. I can handle myself."

"I do trust you, witchling. It’s just…” It’s dangerous. “I miss you."

Your breath hitched, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. "I miss you too, Ruhn. More than you know."

The silence between the two of you was thick, filled with half-spoken lies. You broke it first, your playful tone meant to mask the ache in your chest. "I’ll make it worth your wait."

Ruhn’s chuckle was warm as he joined in on your joke. "I’m gonna hold you to that.”

But the warmth fell flat even for himself. He knew these hunts were part of your culture, and because they were, he would never be invited to come along, but he didn't like you spending an overnight outside the city. Even if your coven was with you. “Be safe, okay?"

"Always," she replied. "I love you, Ruhn."

"I love you too, Y/N. Call me when you get back, please?"

You didn’t respond, but he heard your breathing change. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

Ruhn heard the phone clatter to the ground, and other voices over the line. He called to you, but no one responded. Only the sound of shuffling and yelps of pain.

Your heart raced as you crouched low, shadows coiling around you like dark tendrils enveloping an egg. Your phone lay on the ground, Ruhn’s frantic voice faint in the stillness of the standoff. The creature that had knocked your phone out of your hand breathed heavily just out of sight. It stepped into the moonbeam, his eyes gleaming. It was a… human?

"Who are you?" you demanded. "What do you want?"

A hulking wolf-shifter stepped forward with a sneer. No, he was the one whose breathing you’d heard. "You’re trespassing, witch. This is our territory."

Your eyes narrowed. The Auxiliary had strict patrol zones, and you had been careful to avoid them. Sometimes that meant betraying other borders. "I'm not here for trouble. Just passing through."

"Passing through?" said another voice, dripping. An angel stepped into the dim light, his wings casting eerie shadows on the alley walls. "Looks like you’re doing more than just passing through."

Your hand closed on the empty blood bag in your pocket. “I don’t want any trouble,” you said.

But you were already in trouble. The shadows beyond these men rippled and half a dozen more of their pack stepped forward. It was a mixed pack, one developed by those exiled from their own; it was exactly the kind of unholy union your kind was meant to manage.

These packs always had something to prove. And you were their new target.

One of the shifters lunged at you, claws extended. You dodged, your body moving with heightened speed. It was fast enough to get away, but not as fast as you were capable of. Hunger gnawed at your insides, weakening you. You retaliated with a swift kick that sent the shifter sprawling back. His pack growled. They weren’t done.

"Come on, then," you said, summoning your shadow magic to envelop your attackers. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around their limbs. In your weakened state, though, the shadows couldn’t hold tight, and one by one, they broke free.

You didn’t have time to think about it. Another beast charged, jaws snapping. You sidestepped, slashing with a blade concealed in your sleeve, drawing blood. He howled, and you took a step back, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The angel watched, a cruel smile on his lips.

"Is that all you've got?" he asked in a genuine voice, then launched himself at you. You blocked and countered, but each movement was draining. The depleted blood in your veins was already a concern; without it, your strength would continue to wane.

A sharp pain exploded in your side as a shifter’s claws raked across your ribs. You staggered, barely avoiding a second blow. Your mind raced. You needed to escape. You couldn't die here, not like this. Not without seeing Ruhn again.

The angel laughed, his blade glinting as it slashed at you. You managed to land a punch that sent him reeling.

But it wasn’t enough.

Their pack of misfits surrounded you, eyes glowing. You felled one, then another, but they kept coming, relentless.

Each dodge you made, each strike you landed— They all stripped your energy, your weakened state making each step more and more unsteady. Your instincts were dulling, too, confirmed by the barrelling strike one of the shifters surprised you with. His big paws pinned you down as your blade skittered away across the pavement. His teeth bared down on you, inches from your face, when his nose caught a whiff. "You smell… different." He sniffed you again, and his pupils swelled with primal recognition. "Prey."

Your blood ran cold. They could scent your true nature. You were in over your head.

You didn’t have a choice. You let your true eyes show, glowing red in the dark. The wolf in him sneered, thrilled. But then, he faltered. Your eyes seared into his, and his body heated from the inside out. Panic threaded into his eyes. Then, he was crippling off of you, sharp cries falling out of him as his blood boiled.

You took the chance to scramble away. A heel landed on something with a crack. It was your phone, the cracked screen gone black. Ruhn… You’d forgotten about him. He’d heard all this?

"Interesting." The angel gleamed, sadistically delighted, as he stepped closer. "You're not just any witch, are you?"

“What gave me away?” You spat, pushing to your feet. The blood magic had faded from your eyes. But so had the energy you desperately needed.

The angel kicked your blade back across the pavement. It landed by your feet, but you didn’t dare take it. “Go on,” he said. “We’ll wait.

You eyed him, your muscles prepared to leap at any sign of movement, and kneeled to retrieve your blade. As soon as your fingers wrapped around it, the human—a Vanir, you realized—launched at you. He held two blades, and he wielded them well. You struggled to dodge, landing only one blow good enough to stun him. Your speed glitched behind him and you cracked his neck, letting the limp body fall.

You were breathing hard now, unable to catch your breath. This was it. You weren’t going to survive this fight. Now, you just needed to make your body as presentable as possible for when Ruhn inevitably found your corpse.

The angel hmph-ed in amusement. He stepped forward. “Let’s finish this.”

You launched at him, focusing your strength into your feet to stay balanced as you parried with each other. He was good, and tonight, you weren’t much better. Tonight, he was a worthy opponent for your last fight. He shoved you with his arm and you tripped, landing hard on your knees. “Stay down, witch.”

Pain and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you. How could you fight when your own body was betraying you? You pushed to your feet. If this was your last, you were gonna make sure it was one hell of a fight.

Teeth sank deep into your shoulder and you cried out at the searing pain, the sound echoing in the narrow alley. Agony washed through your veins, frying every nerve ending in your body, and you collapsed under it. Terror struck you. A wolf bite. No…

‘Y/N!’ You heard your name on Ruhn’s voice crash in your mind, the first sign it was over. Your mental block had fractured and crumbled, and Ruhn knew it.

That only made this worse.

The angel laughed, a deep, haunting laugh. "Finish her," he ordered.

You lashed out, catching the angel off-guard. Your blade sliced the base of his wing, shaving feathers off to the quick. He stumbled back, cursing, but his pack was relentless. Claws and blades tore at you, your only defense to pull shadows around you like a shield. You could feel the venom spreading, your body—and your magic—growing weaker with each passing second.

One last desperate, crazy idea. Gathering the last drops of your strength and magic, you pulled the shadows tightly to ball at your chest. They resisted the tight compression, needing to be free, but you held tight, sweat and blood streaking down your skin. It took all your strength to hold them tight.

The angel towered over you, bright white under the moonlight. “Goodbye, witch,” he said, and daggered his blade down at you.

You released your hold and the shadows splintered from their confines, exploding in all directions. Their razor edges ripped through the last of your attackers. You saw the blurry image of angel wings fall to the ground as darkness overtook you.

The bullpen was in chaos, and it was all Ruhn’s fault. He had burst out of his office towards the boys when he heard the fighting on the other side of the line. He put it on speaker-phone and watched the men get white in the face.

Flynn and Ithan had wrestled with him, trying to calm him down, but the second the phone line went dead, Ruhn lost it. His roar of frustration and panic echoed through the building, silencing everyone. Flynn's grip on his arm tightened, and Ithan stepped in front of him, an attempt to calm him that didn’t do much.

"Dec, find her!" Ruhn snapped. Declan was already hunched over his station, fingers flying over the keyboard as he scanned security footage. "Check every damn camera near the gates!"

"She's with her coven, right?" Dec asked, but didn’t wait for an answer.

Ruhn's mind raced. He had to focus, had to think. Your mental block was up, and that was a good sign. It meant you were still conscious, still fighting. But it also meant he couldn't reach you, couldn't tell you he was coming. His chest tightened, helplessness crushing him.

Your agony sliced into Ruhn’s mind like a white-hot iron, the force of it physically knocking him to his knees. It was a raw, guttural sound like nothing he’d ever heard.

"Ruhn!" Flynn shouted, dropping to his side. "What's happening?"

"Y/N," Ruhn whispered, breath coming fast from the flash of your pain. You’d never spoken in his mind before. He couldn’t help the sick feeling that came with it this time. Flynn's face was a pale blur before him, eyes wide with alarm. Ithan dropped a hand on his shoulder.

"We’ll find her," Ithan said, his voice strong like he meant it. "She’ll be okay."

Ruhn nodded, swallowing hard. He forced himself to stand, unsteady on his limbs. "We need Hypaxia," he said, his voice raw. "She might know where Y/N is."

Flynn nodded, and Ithan pulled out his phone, dialing the witch-queen's number, and handed it to him. It felt like an eternity before she answered. "Where’s Aurora?" he barked. No time for pleasantries.

"Ruhn, what happened?"

"She's not with her coven, is she?"

"No," Hypaxia admitted, her voice soft. "She's alone."

Ruhn's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, but she would've gone to her caches.” Hypaxia said. “I know where one is."

"Give me the address," he growled. He snapped his fingers at Flynn and he bolted over.

Hypaxia rattled off the address, and Ruhn relayed it to Declan, who immediately triangulated it on his screens. "I'll meet you there," Hypaxia added. "I have the key."

"Fine," Ruhn bit out, then gave Ithan his phone back. He turned to Flynn. "You're coming with me. Ithan, keep your phone hot. I'll send you another address if she's not there."

Flynn nodded, already pulling on his coat. Declan called out from his station, "I don't see anyone on the cameras."

"She's alone," Ruhn barked, his voice echoing through the bullpen. He didn't wait for a response, didn't look back as he darted out the door.

.

Part II Part III coming soon!

[pergaminaa]

One day, when she was seven, little witchling #1 called Dorian to the playroom to show him something.

In there, little witchling #1 proceeded to show him how if she calls little witchling #2 (14 months old) in a particular tone, little witchling #2 responds by rolling her eyes (which makes her older sister cackle which makes the baby laugh in turn)

Dorian is laughing at the adorable display, on the outside.

With his infant learning how to roll her eyes, he is aware that he needs to fend off against three pairs of eyes now and he isn’t sure he can be immune to that. He never was, not from the start and certainly not now.

He just didn’t think little witchling #2 would be joining the other team so early on (it was inevitable but he thought he had more time).

[pluralfuture]

Fanfic inspider by @thisbelongsto-nohbodys 's future owlphibia au. Please excuse the fact that I have no idea how Ao3 works, so it's all posted here.

CW: Somewhat-more-than-canon-level violence, blood, minor swearing, and blatant shipping.

Armoured Knightmare

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

When Azura Noceda had met up with her frenemy, Lily Boonchuy, she hadn't expected their day to end up here. It was just supposed to be a normal hang out. But Lily had seemed especially down that day, so Azura figured a short adventure on the Isles would help cheer the blonde girl up.

It hadn't been long into their journey that Azura had noticed a structure she hadn't seen before. It looked old. Really old in fact. It was some sort of stone structure, looking almost like the entrance to an ancient tomb. Azura, of course, wanted to leave well enough alone. Who knew what sorts of traps were down there to kill potential grave robbers? But Lily marched towards it all the same.

“Lily, you're being stupid.” Azura said plainly as she jogged to catch up to her friend. “We have no idea what's down there.” Cotton, her tiny white bat palisman, squeaked in agreement from on top of Azura's head. Lily just gave Azura a look over her shoulder before continuing on.

“Listen, we came out here to adventure, right? What better adventure than an ancient, unopened tomb in a magical world?” Lily drew her sword and jammed the blade in between the two stone doors, and began to push on the sword, using it as an impromptu pry bar.

“The stuff above ground is dangerous enough.” Azura stated. Now that they were closer, she could make out faint carvings on the door. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say, but she could make out some sort of orb with tendrils stretching out, an armoured figure, and a group of witches and demons tearing the armoured figure apart. While she tried to figure out the carvings that were faded more than the others, she was startled by a loud scraping sound.

Lily smiled as she managed to open one of the doors enough to get a hold with her hand. Grabbing hold with both hands, she pulled, grunting in effort as she moved the large stone door. “Listen,” she said once it was open enough for her to slip inside, “I'm going down there. You can follow me, or you can stay up here. Doesn't matter to me either way.”

Before Azura could respond, she saw Lily slip inside the crack. Sighing, she started following after the blonde. “Why are you acting like this?” She muttered, more to herself than to Lily. If the other girl heard her, she didn't respond. All Azura knew was that Lily and her younger brother, Percy, got into some sort of argument, and Percy had said something about how Lily would never be like her moms. From what Azura knew of the younger kid, he had to have been pretty pissed off to say something that mean to his sister. And Azura partially understood why Lily felt the way she did. Her mom saved the Isles from Belos when she was younger than Azura was now, and Lily's moms had done the same for that other world, Amphibia. Both of them were daughters of legends, who had a lot to live up to. But sometimes, it seemed to Azura that Lily was either going to be a hero or die trying.

As the pair trudged deeper and deeper into the tomb, Azura drew a small circle in the air, casting a basic light spell and holding the floating orb in the air above her open palm. All around were mossy stone tiles and carvings covered in various vegetation. The carvings were practically gone, destroyed by the ravages of time. Whatever story - or warning - these carvings told was unable to be gleamed. However, Azura frowned at something else she noticed.

“There's no bodies or coffins.” The witchling noted aloud. Lily simply shrugged.

“So?” The human girl asked.

“A tomb of this size should have at least a few. Or even offerings to the dead or something. But it's just the stonework so far.”

“Well, maybe it's all just further in.”

“Bodies, maybe. But offerings are left near the entrance, so that visitors don't disturb the dead.” Azura pointed out. “And we've gotten far enough in anyways that there really should be bodies.”

Lily sighed. “Well, maybe it's not a tomb then. So, there's just something else to discover down here.”

“That's what worries me.” The witchling sighed and pet Cotton, who was letting out small, nervous squeaks.

The two continued deeper and deeper, the carvings soon giving way to smooth walls. And then, the hallway opened up to a massive stone room, easily a cube 50 feet in all directions. Azura jumped and Lily raised her sword as, when they passed the threshold from the hall to the room, light spells activated all around the room, illuminating it. The entire room was empty, save for some sort of stone throne with a rusted suit of armour slumped in the seat.

Lily sighed and looked around. “All this, for one suit of armour? Seems overkill.” Lily took a step forward, but Azura grabbed her arm tightly. In the witchlings hand, she held a miniature harp, one of her signature instruments for her bard magic.

“Lily, we should go. We can find something else to do. Maybe we can hike up the knee, fight a Slitherbeast or two. But we should leave this alone and tell someone else about it.” Azura's voice was filled with nervousness.

Lily grit her teeth and pulled her arm out of Azura's grip. “What, think I can't handle a dumb suit of armour?”

“Lily, that's not what I-”

“And even if it is magical and animates, it's not like I don't know how to fight!”

“I know that! I'm just saying-”

“What, that you think I don't have what it takes?!” Lily got right up to Azura, gripping her sword tight, knuckles turning white.

“I'm saying I don't want you to get hurt because you're too angry to think straight, you idiot!” Azura snapped. She panted heavily as she and Lily stared each other down. Lily glared hard at Azura.

“Screw. You.” Lily said, and marched towards the armour.

“Lily, wait!” Azura followed after her.

“If you're not going to help, just leave!” Lily yelled back at Azura without looking back.

Azura felt a growing sense of dread as they approached the armour. Something was very wrong, but she couldn't tell what.

Lily got right in front of the armour, staring down at it.

“Happy? It's just a normal set of abandoned armour. Now, please, can we just-” Azura yelled in surprise as Lily swung her sword with a scream, knocking the helmet clean off and sending it clattering to the floor. Azura watched Lily for a moment, the human girl panting heavily. It was only after a moment that Azura realized Lily wasn't panting, but starting to cry. Wordlessly, Azura pulled Lily into a hug. After about a minute, Lily finally spoke.

“I'm sorry.” Lily quietly said. “You're right. This was stupid. I just… What Percy said.”

“I know. I understand. Believe me. I really do. But if you need to blow off steam, there are much better places than old, creepy tombs.”

Lily chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” Lily sighed and stepped out of the hug, Azura letting her. She wiped away the last of her tears and sighed. “How about lunch instead?”

“Sure. But you're paying.” Azura said with a playful smirk, earning an equally playful chuckle and punch to the arm from her friend.

“I don't have any snails, dumbass.” Lily let a small smile creep onto her face.

The two of them began to walk out of the room, but the bright mood was quickly broken, both girls freezing in place as the sound of metal scraping along stone behind them. Slowly, and wide-eyed, they turned around. Behind them, the armour was slowly getting up from it's throne, it's joints creaking with untold years of built up rust. From where it had landed on the floor, the helmet was floating up and over to the body. With a dull, hollow clank, it landed back where Lily had knocked it from. The armour rolled it's non-existent neck, pulling a sword from behind the throne and staring down the two young adventurers with empty, hateful eyes.

“Lily?”

“Run?”

“Run!”

The two spun around and started sprinting towards the hallway they had come from. Behind them, they heard the animated armour rapidly approaching. Azura spun around and strummed her harp, creating a magic shockwave that she hoped would cause the armour to stumble. When nothing happened, Azura whistled for Cotton, who transformed into its staff form, Azura hopping on.

“Hop on!” Azura yelled at Lily, holding her hand out to Lily. Lily reached out and grabbed hold.

And then the sword came down on her back.

And Azura saw a spray of red come from the wound.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Azura pulled Lily up quickly, holding the now limp girl close. She sped off on Cotton, the armour chasing after them, though with the speed boost from riding her palisman, Azura quickly outpaced it. She blasted through the open door, skidding to a halt and placing Lily down gently on the ground before running over and pushing as hard as she could to close it, Cotton even flapping over to help her. She could still hear the armour rushing towards them, which only spurred Azura on more. Just as she thought she was going to be trampled by the running armour, she slammed the stone door shut, the armour slamming into it from the other side, but seemingly unable to push it open from its side. Deciding that would have to do for now, Azura picked Lily up and rushed her to the only place she could think of.

Lily was breathing shallow, and looked up at Azura. “Z-Zura. I… I need to tell you something…”

“You can tell me later, okay?” Azura said, wishing now more than ever she didn't inherent her mama's weak nerd arms.

“No. No, please. Let me tell you. Please.” Lily's voice was weak, each word a struggle.

Azura had tears in her eyes, her attempts to speak failing and just slowly nodding.

“I… I like you ‘Zura. I know… I know I denied it, but… I… I like you.” Lily admitted, her eyes slowly closing.

“Hey. Hey, you keep your eyes open, okay? Lily? Lily?!” Azura shook the girl as she passed out in Azura's arms. Seeing where she was heading, she burst through the door, nearly out of breath. “AUNT VINEY! I NEED HELP!”

What happened next was a blur. She breathlessly explained vaguely what happened to Viney, who took Lily away. Emira contacted Amity and Luz, who in turn contacted Anne, Sasha and Marcy. When everyone arrived, Amity and Luz checked on Azura, while Anne, Sasha and Marcy waited with Percy and Maddy, Lily's younger sister and the youngest sibling, waited for Viney to finish up with Lily. All Azura could pick up was when her Aunt Viney said Lily's wound healed without a scar. After what felt like an eternity, Anne walked up to Azura, getting down to eye level.

Azura looked at Anne with teary eyes. “I-I'm so sorry. I… I… I'm sorry.”

Anne softly smiled and put a comforting hand over Azura's. “Hey. Don't be. Lily told us what happened. You saved her, Azura. Thank you. So much.” Anne softly pulled Azura into a short hug. “Now, Lily says she wants to talk to you about something.”

Azura nodded, getting up and walking past the rest of Lily's family. Sasha looked over at Azura as the witchling passed by and mouthed a silent “Thank you,” before going back to keeping their youngest daughter occupied.

Azura entered the room where Lily was lying in a bed. Already, the human girl looked much better. Azura took a seat beside Lily.

“So… um… your mom said you wanted to talk to me?” Azura shifted awkwardly in her seat, unsure if Lily remembered what she had said on the way here. Lily nodded.

“First off, thanks. And… And you were right. We definitely shouldn't have gone down there.”

Azura sighed softly. “While you're right, I probably should have done something more to stop you. But what's important is that you're okay now.” She smiled softly.

Lily nodded. A small blush formed on her cheeks. “And… um… I meant what I said. On our way here.”

It was Azura's turn to blush, her face going as red as a tomato. “O-Oh. Um. O-Of course. I… I just wasn't sure if you remembered.” Azura shifted awkwardly again. “Um…” Azura sighed, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked Lily in the eyes. “I… I think I like you too, Lily.”

Lily's blush grew even brighter. “So… what does that mean for us?”

Azura took a deep breath. “I… I think this means… We take it slow. One date at a time. And see where we go from there.” Azura took Lily's hand with a smile. Lily smiled back.

“I think I can deal with that.”

From the doorway, Percy laughed. “Called it!” He received a pillow to the face from his sister for his troubles.

~Fin~

[absentwriterdoll]

Collin

A doll that sits on a nightstand.

It doesn't move from where it sits.

It belonged to a witchling that succumbed to suicide.

His parent kept the doll, his favorite toy, in memory.

He remembers his son talking to the doll - holding full, one sided conversations that he was never privy to.

He always considered the doll to be his son's imaginary friend.

… Collin.

That was what his son named the doll, wasn't it.

The parent remembers when he learned. It was a bad week for his son. He was crying in his room. The parent sat on his bed and rubbed his back.

And his son hugged him as his tears came in waves.

His son never let go of the doll, of course.

And… Eventually, when the tears and sobbing subsided and his son didn't let go…

The parent asked him what the doll's name was.

And through eyes red from crying and with a slightly flustered smile -

His son told him.

"Hey Collin."

The doll doesn't respond. He didn't expect it to, of course.

But he continues talking to it anyway. Maybe a hapless attempt to connect with his son, even just a little bit more than he already had, long after it was too late.

He talks about his week. How much he thought about his son. How he can't bear to throw any of his things away. That his room looks exactly the same as he left it - except for the doll, which stays on his nightstand.

And he talks about how work has been. How his colleagues were hesitant to talk with him after the accident. How things have more or less returned to normal. How he's starting to return to a healthy weight. How he's starting to return to his hobbies. Starting to hang out with his friends again. And that he's finally cleaned his bedroom. And…

And…

…

"I just."

There are tears on the father's cheeks when he looks up at the doll.

"I just wish that I…"

With a quivering voice -

"I wish he was still here."

And the doll.

It looks at him.

And smiles.

"He lived as long as he did thanks to you."

A parent that hugs his son's doll.

[miss-multi45]

alright my beautiful witchlings (yes, opeia is a witch.) Ieda the Raven headcanons.

she brings the vessels gifts. bones, leaves, flowers, random trinkets, small rocks, stones, her preened feathers, anything she can fit in her beak.

sleeps on V's chest, her post, or V's bedframe.

she brings V incense and little herb bags.

flies throughout the house dawn and dusk just to check if anything's out of place.

sometimes sasses the vessels by staring at them for a prolonged period of time then gronking at them, hopping away from them when they try to pet her after doing something she doesn't like, or flapping her wings excessively for no reason.

cunty.

absolutely loves V. they snuggle together and V knits Ieda tiny jumpers with wing sized sleeve holes.

she knows her name is Ieda, but she responds to names other than Ieda. they are the following;

Ieda from The Owl House (any vessel)

Vantacrow Bringer (ii)

Queen Ieda (iv)

Meada (iii)

Pretty Girl (vessel)

Ieda You Shithead (v)

Sweetie Pie (v)

Ieda, The Reaper of Witchcraft and Wizardry (vessel)

The Crow that Lives Upstairs (iii)

She's A Fucking Raven, III (v)

the messenger of the manor. carries handwritten notes to and fro.

if she's alone in any room and there's someone in the other room, they'll hear her going 'la la la la la' or gronking to the manor spirits or just beefing with Sleep.

Sleep tolerates her. (He secretly wants to pet her chest fluff.)

hey @polteergeistt look what i did.

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Im the one who asked this before but you havent responded yet. As i was saying, imagine Boscha & her friends (Skara, Kat, Amelia) doing a MrBeast style 24 or 50 hour challenge in Amphibia (idk Anne or Luz told her to do it or she's scared). Dont worry there are no slitherbeasts, just giant herons

That’d only really work as a challenge if the witchlings weren’t allowed to use their magic, otherwise it’d b a lot easier for them to deal with the beasts of Amphibia

[limey-self-inserts]

1.

tiny hands in big ones. now. remember the screenshots. 👁️👁️

Touches Ask Game

tiny hands in big ones

-

Humans were so damn small.

Angor had to get over the fact fairly quickly, in this new day and age where it seemed that humans were involved in all affairs, including those of trolls. It didn't keep him from using that matter to his advantage - towering over the changeling and his ilk whenever the opportunity arose, easily picking up the Trollhunter boy to fling him during a fight. The boy's arm disappeared in Angor's hand like a cadaver under hungry stalklings. Even Strickler only managed to stand as tall as Angor's middle torso region.

And, of course, there was Avalon.

On their first meeting, Angor had grabbed them across the chest in one hand and been able to hold them without issue. It proved just as easy to lift and move them around whenever they were required to work together, and when Angor started getting serious with their training. Hauling them back to their feet, tossing them heads-over-heels, gripping tight across both shoulders at once.

Small.

But hands...human hands were even smaller. And little witchling Avalon had the smallest hands of a human Angor had laid eyes upon.

He watched those hands now, carefully plucking threads of magic from the air and weaving them together. A ritual required focus, and so Angor didn't speak, focusing instead on the movements. Fingers wrapping around shadows and forming them into shapes, building a structure from nothing.

Avalon's attention was supposed to be wholly on the ritual, the spell they were casting. And yet, they spoke: "Are you staring to make sure I'm doing this right or because you got bored?"

"The first one," Angor grumbled, finally pulling his gaze away to focus instead on the blade in one of his hands and the whetstone in his other. Scraping stone over stone, keeping an eye on the edge. Despite the consistent noise, Avalon's hands continued in steady motion.

The downside of the noise - it was easier to spot when Angor slowed down. Avalon didn't pause or slow, instead raising their head to tilt it to the side, and Angor immediately ducked his own gaze away. Silently he chided his own actions, acting like some guilty whelp caught outside the nest. Silent he remained, choosing that the moment never happened. Back and forth, the whetstone moved. Keeping a sharp blade was vital. He couldn't let his weapons be blunted through exposure.

"Do you do many?" They should be focused. Angor swept his eyes back up to Avalon, who wasn't even making eye contact with him. Like they were chatting over an open book instead of a magical construct. "Rituals, that is?"

"...Not many," Angor replied. "Only for enchantments."

"Mmm. Like the Mark."

"Yes, like my Mark." The richness of pleasure rolled easily from his tongue. That moment when the target realised their danger but knew they were too late, too far in the trap now. Their fate sealed by Angor's magic.

There was the barest tremor in Avalon's hands. The construct shimmered but did not shatter.

"Focus," Angor chided. "It is almost complete."

For their own benefit, Avalon didn't respond. Tugging the threads into place, they cupped the construct in their hands and pulled it into reality, the mirror settling in their grasp. A low, proud rumble echoed in Angor's chest as he set his blade aside, pacing across the room to kneel beside them.

"You see," he said, taking the mirror in his hand as well. "Magic responds to a firm voice. What you want, you will receive, with the right understanding."

No response. Angor frowned, turning his head to glance to Avalon, who was looking almost like they'd bitten their tongue off themselves as they stared at the mirror.

Not the mirror. His hand. Their hands sandwiched between the construct and his grip.

Such small hands.

It took very little effort to peel one of those hands away from the mirror, leaving Avalon cradling the mirror in their free arm, beyond their usual response of wordless spluttering and gone into numb silence. The claw tip of Angor's thumb pressed into the soft flesh, already nearly covering the human's palm. He could feel their heart beat running furiously under the skin. With a delicate ease, one from long years of practise, he turned their hand over with his fingers, palm down on the cold rough stone. Their hand splayed against his, barely covering half of the surface.

"There is potential in your hands," Angor murmured. "More than perhaps you have realised before. If I can do at least one thing in this town, it will be to make sure you die knowing what potential you hold."

A small wheezing cough bubbled from Avalon's chest, their grip on the mirror tightening but not quite pulling away from Angor.

"Oooh, that was close, you almost gave me another compliment," they stammered.

"You created a scrying mirror using Trollish script without being an Impure." Angor's lips curled as his fingers closed on their hand. "There is much to praise when it is seen that my lessons are doing well."

"So actually you're complimenting yourself, is what I'm hearing."

Angor shook his head despite the laughter that rumbled through him, finally releasing Avalon's hand. They returned to cradling the mirror in front of them both, smiling slightly and looking almost sun burnt in the cheeks, despite the pair having been underground most of the day. Reaching forward, Angor tapped a claw to the mirror's surface and watched the black material ripple.

It was back to business.

[eeveeintheroses]

Decided to have some fun and responded to a complete stranger's facebook post... "Thank you so much for sharing this! May this help my little witchlings with their crafts! Thanks to you, my little ones will be casting their spells in no time! Such a wonderful and thoughtful act on your part! May you have a wonderful upcoming winter solstice! Goddess Bless you!"

[hawkeyefrommash]

Mid-Year Book Freakout 2023

i was tagged by @violaeade sorry it took me 100 years to respond i was on vacation but i'm home now FINALLY. i have not read much this year (i am a slow reader in general!) so this will have repeats.

1. Best book you’ve read so far this year

(prev said house of leaves which i literally just bought so that is exciting) the mysterious case of the alperton angels by janice hallett! i was SO excited for it and loved it

2. Best sequel you’ve read so far this year

i haven't read any sequels yet this year, but i will probably read the second witchlings book next month when i get it from the library. my friends and i read it aloud on vacation and it's a very fun middle grade novel.

3. New release you haven’t read yet

raw dog by jamie loftus which is a weird answer but she was at the you're wrong about liveshow i went to and it made me really wanna read her book about hot dogs, but i just haven't yet

4. Most anticipated release for the second half of the year

the only one i can think of is camp demascus by chuck tingle which is literally coming out within two weeks i think! i haven't preordered yet but i do want to read it.

5. Biggest disappointment

ancillary justice by ann leckie not bc it's the worst book i read this year so far but because i was so excited for it and it didn't live up. i still enjoyed it though i was just 'most disappointed'.

6. Biggest surprise

withclings by claribel a. ortega! surprising because it's a middle grade novel.

7. Favorite new author (debut or new to you)

claribel a. ortega is gonna do awesome things for the middle grade/ya space.

8. Newest fictional crush/newest favorite character

i don't really have one lol

9. Book that made you cry

none so far this year which is surprising because i am a cryer. left hand of darkness by ursula k. le guin maybe a little?

10. Book that made you happy

the mysterious case of the alperton angels for how excited i was for it, but the contents are a bit dark so the happiest the CONTENTS of a book made me was witchlings because it's so cute

[im-a-writer--im-in-distress]

The Witchling (Part II)

Writer: im-a-writer—im-in-distress.tumblr.com

Insert with: Ruhn Danaan

Reader: Female (she/her)

Words: 2700+

About: Ruhn and his girlfriend are having a rough night…

Warning(s): (spoilers for this story ahead) near death, vampirism (TVD), werewolf bite (sorry, Ruhn)

A/N: So sorry this took so long! I have no excuse. But here is the second part! Originally written for Ruhn Week 2024, this story was inspired by @danikamariewrites’s post found here.

Part One

Ruhn and Flynn skidded to a stop outside the address Hypaxia had given them, tires screeching on the wet pavement. The Old Square was packed with the usual bustle of Lunathion's nightlife. The witch-queen was already there, her face tight with worry.

“Hypaxia!” Ruhn called, slamming the car door and rushing towards her, with Flynn hot on his heels.

“This way,” she said and led them down an abandoned side-street blocked off by giant steel gate that sat corkscrew on its hinges. She crossed towards the decorative door set into a weathered brick wall. Ruhn yanked at it, but it only creaked in protest.

"Hurry up, witch," he snapped, frustrated.

“It’s not the door,” she replied, ignoring his tone.. She uncorked a vial of red liquid she had pulled from her robes and dripped a single drop onto the jutting corner of a mismatched brick. Ruhn watched, cringing at the sound of stone-on-stone in his ears as the brick swung open like a tiny door. Inside, there was a single jar of similar red liquid.

Hypaxia reached in and pulled out the jar. She examined it, warmth still emanating from it. “She was here. But she’s gone now.”

“Is that blood?” Flynn asked, eyeing the jar.

Hypaxia pushed the jar into Flynn’s grip, who held it at arm’s length, repulsed. She was watching Ruhn. “She never told you, did she?”

Ruhn’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. The truth was, he didn’t know. He was discovering more about Y/N in the two hours than he had during their entire relationship. He used to think he knew her well, at least as well as she knew him. At least half as well. He didn’t even know what he didn’t know anymore. The realization hit him hard.

“Where is she?” he shouted at no one in particular, slamming his fist into the steel door. The door gave a loud rattle on its hinges, and Hypaxia flinched.

“Her blood will take us to her.” She knelt down and poured the remaining red liquid from her vial onto the pavement, mumbling an incantation over it. Heart pounding, Ruhn watched as the pool of blood twitched, then swirled, reacting to the witch’s spell. It straightened and shot off in one direction.

Hypaxia rushed after it, and the males followed. The streets of Lunathion blurred around them as they sprinted after the tracking spell, each step pounding in Ruhn’s chest. Fear clawed at him, but so did the questions. Who were you really? Why hadn’t you trusted him with whatever this was? And the deepest claw of all: Are you okay?

The blood arrow led them through dark alleys and winding streets, its eerie glow casting long shadows. Flynn kept pace beside him, talking to him, trying to ground him. “We’ll find her, Ruhn,” he said. “We’ll find her.”

His words didn’t help. The image of you lying hurt and bleeding somewhere haunted him, the echo of your gut-wrenching cry in his mind. He couldn't shake it. Your mental block was down, a sign that you were unconscious. But it wasn’t that. You were sunk deep inside your mind, not even dreaming, and he couldn’t reach you. Ruhn tried not to think about it.

They caught up with the blood arrow; it had stopped and stamped itself onto the pavement. Ithan and other members of the Auxiliary were already there; the stench of blood was thick in the air. Panic seeped deep.

He pushed past the line of officers surrounding the alley. Ithan tried to intercept him. “Dec found the scene on the cameras—”

Ruhn shoved past him and froze. It was a bloodbath. Seven mangled bodies of all sorts of Vanir littered the alley, the beam of moonlight between the roofs glittering off the river of blood. It was a shocking sight, even for someone as seasoned as him. His blood ran cold. You were here? His eyes darted across the mangled bodies, stained red. No. He couldn’t process it. His mind kept glitching back to “You were supposed to be alone”.

“Ruhn!” Hypaxia called his name. She was crouched in a shadowed part of the alley. A body sprawled alone on the ground. He dove to your side, sobs ripping up from his throat. “No, no, no.”

“She’s alive,” Hypaxia reassured him, though her voice confirmed you might not be for long. Then, she shouted for Flynn, “Give me the jar!”

Flynn tossed it to her.

Lilac eyes tracked your body, cold under his touch. Bare skin peeked through the deep slashes on your shirt, signs you had healed from at least one attack. But there was blood, too much blood, soaked into your clothes and hair, spilling out under you. “Why isn’t she healing?” Ruhn barked, his bright eyes locked on the fresh wounds that littered your skin.

“Help me,” Hypaxia ordered, and he pushed your limp body to lay flat. Your head rolled to the side, exposing an angry, red wound at your left shoulder.

“That’s why,” Hypaxia breathed, upset.

Ruhn didn’t know what she meant, but the puncture wound was deep and still bleeding, and that was all he could think about. Hypaxia snapped her fingers at him. “Come here. Lift her head up.”

Ruhn moved to kneel by your head, lifting it to rest on his knee. His fingers pulled sticky hair from your face as Hypaxia tipped the uncapped jar towards your mouth. A small stream of red rolled down your cheek and into your hair, but your body involuntarily swallowed a few gulps.

Hypaxia tightened the lid back on the jar and tossed it at Flynn, who barely caught it in his surprise. Ithan leaned over, peering at the jar. “What’s that?”

“Trust me, bro. You don’t wanna know.”

Hypaxia prodded at the puncture wound on your neck, which was swollen and red and angry. Your body whimpered and shifted away from the witch-queen’s touch. Ruhn expelled the breath he didn’t know he was holding. You weren’t awake, and you weren’t okay, but you were alive. He folded down to rest his forehead on yours. ‘You’re okay, witchling’, he said into your mind even though you weren’t there to hear it.

“We need to get her to my lab,” Hypaxia said, standing. She turned to Ithan. “You can drive fast, yes?”

Ithan bolted towards his car.

Ruhn lifted your body into his arms, feeling the chill of your blood-soaked clothes against his. ‘I’ve got you, baby.’ Crimson staining his shirt. ‘I’ve got you.’

Every second felt like an eternity. You were hurt, badly, and Ruhn couldn’t shake the image of finding you like that. Your body carved in a red you couldn’t heal. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

Ithan skidded the car to a stop at the entrance of the alley, the tires screeching against the pavement. Before the engine had died, he was out and helping Ruhn with your body. They settled you into the backseat, your torso draped across Ruhn’s lap. He cradled your head, fingers trembling against your clammy skin.

Hypaxia clambered into the front seat. “Drive, Ithan! Faster than that,” she snapped. The engine roared to life, and the car peeled out into the road. Hypaxia twisted in her seat.

“Ruhn, you have to wake her up,” she commanded.

“What?”

“I need to know how long she’s been like this,” Hypaxia said, impatient.

“You’re the mediwitch! Can’t you tell by the wound?”

Hypaxia’s expression softened, empathy cutting through. “Wolf bites are different for witchlings. We’re on a clock.”

Ruhn looked down at you. He didn’t know what to feel. His hand traced over your cheek—the only place untainted by blood, until his fingers smeared across its surface. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Wake up, baby,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Please, Y/N, you have to wake up.”

You remained unresponsive, breaths shallow and irregular. Panic tightened its grip around Ruhn’s chest. He couldn’t shake you. Open cuts scarred your limbs. He didn’t want to hurt your.

“Use your starlight.”

“I can’t heal her with that. I’m not Bryce.” Ruhn argued.

“The brightness will jolt her. Maybe enough to jolt her awake.”

Ruhn clenched his jaw. What if he didn’t have enough?

“If you do nothing, she will die a slow, agonizing death.” Hypaxia continued, heartlessly. “Ruhn. Ruhn,”—his eyes met hers—“One touch. No more, or you will kill her. But at least, that would be quick.”

Ruhn’s stomach churned. His fingers tightened around one hand. ‘Stay with me, Y/N’, he whispered, needing you to hear him. If you had, you gave no indication.

With a breath meant to calm him—though it didn’t do a good job—Ruhn closed his eyes and focused inward. He’d started to see the spark of starlight within him like a tiny star inside of him, the way you had always described it. The power had meant a whole lot of things to him, but you thought of it as the purest part of him. He wanted to believe that. He grasped it in his hand.

He placed his hand over your sternum, feeling the faint, uneven thrum of her heart. “Please, work,” he murmured. Channeling the starlight, he pricked the sharpest point into your chest, and a flash of white piercing dark shadows flashed in his mind.

Your body convulsed, a sharp cry tearing from your lips as you sprung upward.

“Y/N!”

“Ruhn,” you coughed, catching his eye. “Ow.”

“You scared me half to death,” Ruhn snapped. Tears streamed down his face as he yanked you backwards into his chest, pressing his lips to the side of your head, his words muffled. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

You clamped your hands down on his arms, holding him tight. The sting of his hold didn’t even matter.

Ithan released a hard breath, and Hypaxia reached back to your hand in hers. “Welcome back.”

You winced, pain from your neck sharp and raw. You reached up to it.

“Don’t touch that,” Ruhn said, grabbing your wrist.

“How long has it been since you fed?” Hypaxia asked you.

You tried not to look like a guilty kid caught in the cookie jar. “The full moon,” you admitted.

“That’s over a week go,” Hypaxia exclaimed. “Y/N, you can’t go that long.”

“That’s what tonight was. I needed to hunt. Restock,” you muttered, too tired to argue with her.

Ruhn thought back, piecing together fragments of the past week. You had been with him through every step of his mission with Agent Daybright. You’d helped them attack the Spine. You were killer on that mission; they wouldn’t have gotten out without you. Had you overdone it? Had he not noticed? Guilt twisted in his chest.

Ithan made a sharp turn and the force jerked Ruhn into the door. “Hey, watch it,” he snapped, but his body had shielded yours. The city blurred through the window.

Hypaxia gave the shifter an instruction, and then turned back to you. “Your caches, Y/N. Are any near my lab?”

“Not anymore.”

“We’re almost there,” Hypaxia said. “I need you to tell me where your caches are.”

You nodded, and pressed backwards into Ruhn’s embrace. He held you tightly, his muttering into your hair. In your weakened state, you realized you couldn’t understand the words anymore, only that they were in his voice.

The car screeched to a halt outside Hypaxia’s lab, and Ithan leaped out. Ruhn lifted you into his arms, your head nestled into his neck, your wound bared on the other side.

Ithan helped Hypaxia clear a bed for you, and Ruhn laid you down, pulling a seat to sit next to you. You gave him a weak smile, brushing hair away from his face with your fingers. He grasped that hand and held on tight.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Ruhn whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Ruhn shook his head, kissing your hand. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Hypaxia came back with a cup. “Drink this.”

“Is that what I think it is?” you asked, looking unhappily at the cup.

“Yes,” she said. “And you’re gonna drink it.” She handed the cup to Ruhn as though to prove you weren’t getting out of it.

The bed you were on was already folded upwards at the head, so you didn’t need much help to drink the concoction. It didn’t taste bad; in fact, the warm tea was welcome on your dry throat. But as you swallowed the last of it, the stinging started. You hissed, and Ruhn put the empty cup down, moving closer to you to ask what’s wrong.

Your back arched off the bed in pain, and your face scrunched against the stinging sensation blossoming under the wound at your shoulder.

"What did you give her?" Ruhn snapped at the witch.

Hypaxia spoke to you, unperturbed by the furious Fae prince. “I know it hurts," she said, "but you won’t have to bare it very long. I put a sedative in.”

Ruhn looked at the witch, angrily. “Why did you have me torture her if she could sleep?" Why did she encourage him to risk starlight on you if it wasn't necessary?

“I needed to test her cognitive function. I did.” She turned towards you, who was breathing roughly, small whimpers falling from your lips against the pain. “Y/N, I need the addresses to your caches.”

You rattled off a single address in the business district in a half-pained, half-weary whimper. Ruhn placed a hand on your thigh. His own skin ached at the sight of your pain. It broke his heart when you arched against it again.

“Go to sleep, Y/N. Stop fighting it,” Hypaxia said, her voice less sympathetic and more matter-of-fact.

Ruhn glared at the witch. Hypaxia ignored the anger, only adding: “She needs to relax. Only you can help her with that.” And with that, Hypaxia left the room.

Ruhn touched your face. Despite the muscles in your neck pulling taut against the pain in your shoulder, your Y/E/C eyes open and lock on his gaze. You smile at him, a softer whimper coming from your chest, and you lean into his hand.

“Go to sleep, Y/N. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“I don’t deserve you,” was the whisper on your lips.

The prince’s heart cracked. He grabbed your left hand, lacing his fingers with yours in a tight grip—mostly to resist the urge of grabbing your face with both hands and being too rough.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Stop,” Ruhn said, and his voice cracked. Revealing the rising fear that you were getting ready to die and leave him.

You flinched again at the tea’s sting under the bite wound, but the draught Hypaxia had put in your drink was starting to kick in, and it numbed the sharpness of the sting. The flinch of your muscles was the only sign of your pain, no longer arching off the bed. Your eyes were starting to droop, too.

“I love you, alright,” Ruhn said pointedly. “You can’t leave me. You’re not allowed to die on me.”

Your right hand lifted to lay on his that cradled your face.

He beat you to saying anything. “Promise me,” he snapped, eyes fierce, as he glared down on you. “You’ll be okay.”

Saying nothing, you reached up with that right hand and pulled him down to your lips, whimpering—desperate—as he kissed you. He was tender, but you didn’t want tender. Ignoring the pain, you leaned up, your hand on his neck, in his hair, stopping him from pulling away. You kissed him fiercely, and he matched you, bruising your lips with a need for you to be okay. You needed his kiss more than anything else.

Your mindblock was already coming down as the sedative sank in, but you pulled it the rest of the way down. Ruhn felt it give way, and immediately spoke into your mind. ‘Stay with me.’

Your hand fell from his hair in exhaustion and he released your kiss, pressing his forehead to yours, and spoke into your mind again as you fell into sleep. ‘Stay with me, witchling.’

Taglist

@acourtofbatboydreams @mybestfriendmademe @danikamariewrites

Hit me up if you wanna be tagged in the following part!

[whitenoisecity]

Pure intentions

A young witch, around 14 years old, was approaching the fair gates. He had high eyebrows, a somewhat narrow jawline and a small, but pointy nose. The nose wasn’t his only pointy “thing” - he also had a pair of large pointy ears, with a small incision in his left one. Number Four was actually very fond of these ears: they were very expressive and would allow him to show desired emotion more easily. He also mimicked Frederick’s shaggy brown hair and his outfit - a very simple set of shirt and pants of a swampy-green colour. The basilisk wasn’t able to discern the witch’s eye color, so he made them of a dark-grey tint. Number Four hoped it was a fairly common color to have.

So yes - a basilisk disguised as a fairly normal witchling (he hoped) - was walking toward the entrance to the fair. Where two coven guards were standing. Thoroughly examining everything and everyone in their immediate vicinity. Anxiety was starting to build up in Number Four. He took a deep breath - no turning back now! - and made the final steps towards the entrance.

“Hello, fellow witches!” said number four with a rather deep, but still youthful voice, greeting the coven guards, “A mighty fine day today, is it not?”

“Um, yes?” responded one of the coven guards. His confusion could be felt even through his cone-shaped mask. “Yes, it is.”

“Good, good” nervously continued the disguised basilisk, slowly shimmying between the guards into the fair grounds. As he reached the imaginary border, Four turned his back to the guards and was going to bolt in, but the other guard put his hand on Number Four’s shoulder.

“Wait a second” the guard said, turning the young witchling to face himself. Number Four started panicking - discovered? So quickly? What did he do wrong? It was the greeting, wasn’t it? The witches probably have a secret hand-shake!

“You forgot your mead-pie!” the guard excitingly announced, as a tray with pastries of all sorts of forms appeared next to Four, inviting him to take one of them. “It’s my mom’s recipe, but I think mine’s are pretty good too. Try it out and have a swell day!”

Although the coven-guard’s voice was raspy and stern, it radiated with infectious joy and Four couldn’t help but to get swept by it. He took one of the pies, that was in the shape of a star, and thanked the guard, as he entered the fair grounds. The pastry was still warm, but not because it was kept that way through some kind of spell, no - the fire-bees’ honey, of which the pie was full of, was still giving off heat, thus keeping the dough as though it just left the oven. Furthermore - although the fire-bees’ couldn’t really be domesticated, their honey was one of the sweetest things on the Boiling Isles, thus every treat with it in it was a joy for anyone who had a sweet tooth. Number Four couldn’t really tell, if he had one, but every bite he took out of the pastry filled him with an undiscovered feeling of pleasure and not physical, but spiritual warmth. He was already sure, that coming here was a good idea and he shouldn’t have been so stressed out about it.

(To be continued…)

[pergaminaa]

Empire of Storms thoughts:

When Asterin told Manon to “bring my body back to the cabin” that was when Manon just… woke up and finally realized what her grandmother is doing.

It started in Queen of Shadows, when Asterin told Manon about her hunter, witchling and what their grandmother did to her.

Manon knew of this evil and learned that her grandmother is capable of great evil, also that she has no qualms being cruel towards any of them.

While she was preparing to execute Asterin, as per her grandmother’s order, Manon felt crippled. I do believe at that point she was still conflicted: she knew about her grandmother, but she was still unable to break free from her. She was going to execute her Second, her best friend, her cousin, her sister— yet the whole thing was proving too difficult for her.

She was about to cry while she was sharpening her blade, she was reminiscing how she spent a hundred years with Asterin and she was looking forward to a hundred more. Sorrel spoke to her, but she couldn’t respond because she was going to cry if she opens her mouth.

But even at that point, she was still shackled by her grandmother.

When Asterin told her to bring her body back to the cabin, it was what snapped Manon.

She remembered Asterin’s story and what their grandmother had done to her. That moment of clarity told her that she is doing her grandmother’s bidding, not for the good of the clan, but for her own personal gratification.

That’s when Manon said no. She will not allow her grandmother to take Asterin from her. Because she will not stop there. And between the two, Manon chose her Thirteen. Asterin’s words were the catalyst that got Manon to see her grandmother as the monster that she is.

She realized that this is just her grandmother flexing her power over her. This is not about the witches or the clan. This is her grandmother using Asterin against her one more time, like she always did. The Matron always went for Asterin first whenever anything happens. It was a personal vendetta and she loved tormenting Manon by always making her the one who did this to Asterin. Because the Matron knows how important Asterin is is to Manon, and she reveled in showing her granddaughter how easy it is to take yet another dear person from her, this time, at her own hands.

Manon wanted to protect Asterin and the Thirteen, giving them the chance to run to safety while she handled her grandmother and bought them enough time to run.