#your ancestors are rolling in their graves | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astra-ravana · 3 months ago

Text

Obscure Spell Components

A small collection of things you don't see every day in magick. I can definitely add more to this list and may in the future, I am open to suggestions.

Coffin Nails

• Traditionally made of protective iron

• Anoint front doors for home protection

• Carry in pocket or bag for protection from tricks, bad luck, and harm

• Binding magick; hammer through a name paper to specify a target

Wasps

• Improves accuracy of magick (ensures curses "hit where it hurts")

• Can be used in a petition to end pregnancy

• Hang near a door to cause loss, discord, and constant troubles for who lives there

Black Feathers

• Seeing one is a sign from the ancestors

• Used in workings to cast out malevolent forces

• Burn a message and sweep into the air with a black feather to get an answer soon

• Protects from nightmares

• Can be used to fan away negative energy and unwanted visitors

Lucky Hand Root

• Great for drawing money, often added to mojo bags

• Can be used with a name paper to draw a specific lover

• Boosts charisma, power, and self-discipline

• Ideal for manifestation and drawing magick

Ashes

• Carry in red cloth to bolster your courage

• Scatter around a purple candle for healing

• Bury spell ashes to seal a spell

• Carve a name into hardwood and burn to ash for a targeted curse component

• Must always be instructed in the working

• Versitile; can do everything from road openings and protection to destruction and chaos

Charcoal

• Used to make black salt and ink for grimoires

• Use in bath magick to cleanse yourself of negative energy

• Used in spells related to protection, warding, banishing, unity, and purification

• Can be used to add "fuel" to a working

Peach Pits

• Are often carved

• Worn to protect one's life, safety, and health

• Wards against negative energy

• Magickal aspects include longevity, protection, love, and vitality

Chalk

• Used for its power to claim, anchor, and control

• Write your target's name on an out bound train/boat/truck to make them go far away

• Write your name on the bottom of a lover's shoes to keep them coming back

• Trace your hand on a property to claim it for a time

Spiderwebs

• Capture a spiderweb on black cloth and hang over your door to catch a thief

• To keep someone away hang their name in a spiderweb and ask the spider to bind them

• Roll target's hair in a spiderweb and sprinkle with grave dirt. Bury in their yard to hex them.

• Roll a red/pink candle in webs to capture the heart of an attractive lover

• Used in magick for opportunity, obtaining, binding, and ensnarement

Coffee

• Used in poppets to inflict insomnia

• Makes a spell work faster

• To get a message from someone rub their name with coffee and attach to a mailbox

• Spinkle in purse, wallet, or cash box to bring money

• Said to improve a man's varility and stamina

Shoes

• Put sigils in the soles of your shoes

• Pair of shoes: health, protection, wealth, fertility, travel, banishing, fidelity, home, marriage/couples

• Right shoe: will, success, dominance, banishing, skill mind

• Left shoe: destiny, accidents, come to me, protection, love

• Cleanse with Florida Water for protection

• Put target's name in your right shoe to dominate, left to draw them, both to bewitch and control

• Dirt from the yard in a loved one's left shoe will keep them coming home

• Put hot foot powder directly in someone's right shoe *wink wink*

Lock & Key

• The lock is symbolic of blocking, stopping, protection, keeping people/energies out while keys represent access and entry

• Lock and key together offer protection and guarding/sealing with the option of unlocking, unbinding, freeing work and energy

• Utilized in magick for safeguarding treasures, information and secrets, opening doorways to other realms, dream work, "unlocking" psychic abilities, and in love magick (unlocking someone's heart)

Magnolia

• Brings luck, power, and success to women

• Hang over a door/window to bring luck to a home

• Place under couple's mattress for a happy relationship

• Used in sex magick rituals for fidelity and devotion

• Add to a bath to attract honor ans recognition

• Hexing, cursing, and banishing men

• Possess ancient wisdom and the power to bring peace, abundance, self-reliance, growth, and feminine love

Chocolate

• Corresponds to wealth, lust, passion, and bliss

• Add to any spell to speed up results and add power

• A spirit offered chocolate is more likely to grant a wish

• Rub on hands before spirit work; draws good spirits, good luck, and faster results

• Sprinkle chocolate in someone's shoes before they go to work and they'll make more money

• Chewing chocolate and hot peppers increases gambling luck

Chicken Feet

• A powerful protection charm/talisman, hang in home or car

• Can be used to rid negatives, clear crossed conditions, stop bad thoughts, guards against hexes and spiritual attacks

• Often painted and/or decorated with beads, bones, feathers, shells, or bones

• "Feed" with protection oil

Sulphur

• Also called brimstone

• In alchemy sulphur is one of the 3 elements that make up the Philosopher's Stone (sulphur: love/soul, mercury: mind/spirit, salt: will/body)

• Used as an offering, especially for demonic and chthonic spirits

• Used by root doctors for enemy tricks

• Excellent component for use in baneful magick, crossing/uncrossing, banishing, protection, beauty, and love

• Used in fire magick

Sunflower

• Add to ritual baths to increase joy and lift sorrow

• Can be used in spells to strengthen friendships or find new friends

• Burn sunflower petals to reveal the truth

• Used in ointments and oils to see/work with the Fae

• Feed someone sunflower seeds to increase their loyalty

• Also associated with success, nobility, partnership, charisma, luck, and integrity

Milk

• A hot bath with milk and eggshells stirred in counterclockwise will uncross you

• Favorite offering of the Fae, keeps them happy so they are less inclined to play tricks/move your stuff

• Drinking milk from a black cow protects you from enemies

• If you find a black cat at your door make a wish and offer them milk. If they drink the milk your wish will be granted

Orchids

• Symbolize feminine energy, sexuality, feminine power and control

• Used in lesbian love spells

• To gain power over a man bury his name at the base of an orchid, he will become docile and obedient

• Helps women take up positions of leadership, be doted on by men, and be respected as living goddesses

Mercury Dimes

• To win at games of chance wear a Mercury dime on your left wrist/ankle

• Powerful money drawing and success charm

• A Mercury dime in your shoe protects you from crossing powders

• If one turns black, someone tried to curse you

• Place at the bottom of a sugar bowl to draw money to your home

Bread

• Burnt bread ash sprinkled in someone's path will cause them poverty

• Bake a couple's names in a loaf of bread to make their love grow deep and strong

• Wonderful offering to spirits and deities

Vinegar

• Sours, erodes, repells, cleans, removes, punishes, and deters

• Used as a base in sour jars and as a component in spells to cause bitterness, suffering, negative associations, anxiety, and conflict

• Can help clear up addictions and habits

Railroad Spikes

• Place one in the 4 corners of your home for protection

• Can be used to "nail/anchor" something in place

• Often used in making war water

• Used in workings to prevent/stop eviction

• Symbolizes strength, power, safety, good luck, defense, and protection

Snake Skin

• Reverse hexes, jinxes, and curses

• Curse component; works well when added to goofer dust

• Carried for protection and good luck

• Also represents change, transformation, and new beginnings

• Can be given as an offering to serpentine deities (Lilith, Medusa, Loki, etc.)

#satanic witch #withcraft #satanism #demons #magick #demonolatry #lefthandpath #witch #dark #witchcraft #traditional witchcraft #hoodoo #spell work #spellcraft #spells #witches #dark witch #eclectic witch #herbalism

98 notes · View notes

moondance-r · 2 months ago

Text

SAGAU-adjacent not-Creator Creator 2

Summary: You knew, viscerally down to your bones, that you did not create this world; Teyvat had no grand creator, no single hand designing its wonders. It did, however, have something of a catalytic agent, without which it would not exist.

You.

[Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

It had been an entirely unremarkable day for Diluc until Adelinde approached with a harried look on her face and handed him a slip of paper.

“It came by the Knights’ fastest hawk,” she informed him quietly.

Unrolled, the paper contained only the Favonius coat of arms marking it as official correspondence and a short message written in Jean’s hand, unusually shaky:

Creator sighted by Bard. Come with best harvest, They’re here.

Creator sighted.

A thrill ran down Diluc’s spine. For generations, they had hoped and prayed to see the Creator, and now They had descended during his lifetime. He was excited, but nervous too -- if anything went wrong, their ancestors wouldn’t just roll in their graves, they would burst out of the ground in anger.

“Adelinde,” he said, the tension in his tone enough for her to snap to attention, “prepare the Liberation casks for transport. I leave as soon as they’re ready.”

Adelinde’s eyes widened. “The Liberation casks, Master? But those are...”

“Yes. The Liberator has graced us with Their presence.”

The Liberation casks, named for the Liberator Themselves, consisted of samples of the best wine from every harvest since Mondstadt’s founding. They were first planned to be for the Creator, though as years passed with no sign of Them, the casks that deteriorated in taste were auctioned off for obscene amounts of money, valued as much for their superior taste as for their prestige.

And now he was going to watch all that work pay off.

He arrived to a Mondstadt bustling with activity. Children ran through the streets with armfuls of flowers, while their parents hung garland after garland on every building. As he walked to the Favonius headquarters after arranging for the Liberation casks to be delivered to Angel’s Share, Diluc watched a group of teens be roped into setting up a banner to unfurl across the main street. No one was spared from the festivities.

The Knights of Favonius headquarters was a hive of controlled chaos, and Diluc dodged more than one too-focused knight on the way to Jean’s office. He knocked twice on her door.

“Diluc here.”

“Come in,” was the response.

The Acting Grand Master of the Knights was noticeably frazzled, with clothes askew and splatters of ink on her sleeves. Diluc raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

“Our mutual bard friend alerted me to Their arrival just this morning. They were apparently located off our east coast and have been steadily moving west, and at Their current speed we expect Them to make landfall in another hour or two,” Jean said. That explained why everyone was in such a rush.

“I thought the preparations for it had been made centuries ago?” he asked idly. “The Knights are more inefficient than I thought.”

Lisa pushed the door open before Jean could answer. “The current Mondstadt is different from the Mondstadt of back then after all, of course we’ll need to make some adjustments.” She turned to the other woman in the room. “Jean, I have the ceremony records you wanted. It’s time for you to take a break, don’t you think?”

“There’s no time for that,” Jean said, already flipping through the thick stack of papers Lisa handed to her and making notes.

Diluc sighed, knowing that the Acting Grandmaster was impossible to dissuade when she became so focused. And besides, he wasn’t so dense as to deny the thrum of anxiety in his own chest -- this was the creator of their world they were talking about, the most important personage in existence, during Their first known descent to Teyvat. The mere thought of Their disappointment made him want to rip his heart out of his chest.

* * *

Mondstadt greeted you as a castle town on a lake island, connected to the mainland by only a single bridge. Beautiful yet defensible, you noted. It was yet another indication of this world’s troubled past.

Even across the stone bridge, you could hear cheering and indistinct chatter from a sizable crowd of people of all ages. Beyond the portcullis, a swarm of sparks lit up in your senses, little embers of your power similar to but weaker than the ones in the statue and Barbatos. As your gaze rested on each person in turn, a light breeze blew against your face and Anemo breathed into your ears:

Jean Gunnhildr, human, Anemo, born of Mondstadt.

A blonde woman.

Kaeya Alberich, human, Cryo, born of Khaenri’ah.

A tanned, dark-haired man.

Albedo, homunculus, Geo, created of Khaenri’ah.

A shorter man with pale hair.

Eula Lawrence, human, Cryo, born of Mondstadt.

A woman with light blue hair.

Diluc Ragnvindr, human, Pyro, born of Mondstadt.

A red-haired man wearing the most ornate outfit you had yet seen in this world.

There were more, but you flinched at the onslaught and pressed your eyes shut, causing the clamour to fade into a faint murmur.

“O Sweeping Gale?” Barbatos prompted. You could almost feel the way his attention sharpened, though you shook your head and continued with only the briefest hitch in your steps. He would probably be far too happy if you told him how the world itself was reacting to you.

Focusing on your greeting party wasn’t an improvement, however, as every eye was pinned on you. Jean saluted. “Your Grace, we welcome You to Mondstadt and hope You enjoy Your stay.”

Looking from her serious expression to the way everyone was almost vibrating with excitement, you sadly bid goodbye to any chance of correcting the Creator myth here.

* * *

The festival was a new experience for you, and you did enjoy it, but you had no plans to settle down. A night of meditation revealed that your awakening was linked to the roots of the world. People could access these roots through ley lines, and the biggest and strongest of these was called the Irminsul tree, one of which was known -- or at least strongly suspected -- to be in Sumeru.

You wanted to go there because you needed answers to your questions. Why did you wake now, not during earlier conflicts such as the Archon War or the Cataclysm when Teyvat’s need was arguably greater? And... was Teyvat ready to stand without you, for you to begin the arduous process of detangling yourself from its core? You had already been here for well over 6000 local solar orbits, albeit unaware for most of that time, and you couldn’t stay forever. One day you and Teyvat would walk separate paths; but you would also make sure that it wouldn’t crumble the instant you left the scene. That was what a responsible caretaker did.

However, your mortal body was unable to enter the core, so you could only access Teyvat indirectly through Irminsul. From the map of Teyvat that had been presented to you, the easiest way to Sumeru was to travel over land through Liyue. You were perfectly fine with walking -- you had more than enough time to detour through all seven nations if you wanted -- but Jean protested. Vehemently. In the end you managed to talk her down from a full honour guard to a horse and Diluc as a companion, since his manor was conveniently in the same direction. You had also, with difficulty, managed to avoid having an advance notice sent with news of your imminent arrival, by using the excuse that you wanted to see ‘your acolytes’ in their natural form. For some reason this worked -- you didn’t question it.

(Elsewhere, Venti gave his enthusiastic support. “I want to see Morax’s flustered face!” he crowed.)

Once again, you lamented the abundance of cults in magical worlds. You would have to be careful not to give any inclination that you planned to leave Teyvat entirely.

The journey to Dawn Winery was uneventful, save for a high number of slimes along your route that were, apparently, unusually docile. You’d spent an afternoon happily petting any that came within reach, even as Diluc fretted in his brusque way nearby. As for yourself, you weren’t worried at all; quite apart from your own not insubstantial power, slimes were elemental beings intimately connected to Teyvat, and nothing so aware of the world around them could or would harm you. Their very physiologies wouldn’t allow it.

Unfortunately, this didn’t extend to humans and other creatures who weren’t -- quite literally -- born of the earth, so your mortal journey was still in danger of being cut short. Who knew how long it would take to gestate another body? No, you had to take care of the one you had.

As you came out of the woods and caught your first glimpse of Dawn Winery and its sprawling vineyards, you let out a short, impressed breath. “It’s amazing,” you said quietly. It truly was.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Diluc turn away with a half-hidden smile. “Welcome to Dawn Winery.”

[Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

Tagging: @fantasyhopperhea

Interact with this post here if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oc #genshin sagau #genshin reader insert #my writing #sagau-adjacent verse

92 notes · View notes

sanjoongie · 10 months ago

Text

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕖𝕟: ℍ𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕩

🥀Pairing: Kang Yeosang x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: ninja au, anime au, Naruto au, historical au

🥀Trope: enemies to lovers

🥀Summary: when you claim that Yeosang was a man of no emotions and Yeosang demanded you prove yourself right, a passionate and hot sex session follows

🥀Kinks: hate sex, rough sex, degradation kink, fingering (f), mean dom! yeosang, mean sub! reader, breast/nipple play, strength kink, creampie

🥀Word Count: 1,693

🥀author's note: thanks to @mejuii for helping my gears begin to turn. Apologies for any terms you don't understand, I pulled directly the anime and this was completely self indulgent

🥀Day Nine: Long Distance Sex/ Praise 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia

Your ancestors would, in fact, be rolling in their graves if they knew whose fingers were deep inside of you. Your hips rolled into the hand that was giving you pleasure, but he wasn’t going to just let you take from him without giving back.

“What’s this?” Yeosang purred into the shell of your ear. “I thought you said there was no way that you could possibly get pleasure from anything I ever did to you?”

“Fuck off, Yeosang,” You snarled weakly, hips still bucking into his movements.

“Kinda pitiful, really?” Yeosang continued to torture you with his words. “A Senju letting an Uchiha fuck her with his fingers. We should be fighting instead of fucking.”

A jolt went through your nerves. It tightened your nipples immediately and made your lower half flood even more than it already was.

“Who’s fucking?” You argued, “You’re incapable of anything other than throwing barbed insults and using those damn eyes of yours.”

Yeosang hummed mockingly in agreement. “Right, how could a passionless man possibly fuck?”

You had been sent by the Hogage herself to infiltrate the Akatsuki. What you hadn't been aware of was that Yeosang, who had gone rogue when his elder sister had died by his own hands, had joined up with the merry band of shit disturbers. You had been sent here to figure out exactly what their grand plan was. You most definitely were not sent here to fuck the enemy, let alone an enemy that was generations in the making.

All you had to do was keep your mouth shut, but you were so sick and tired of Yeosang's damn emotionless face. You had watched him fight, watched others die, and he never showed a single drop of emotion. You, however, had cried when the first Jinchuriki had died for the Akatsuki’s grand plans. Yeosang had accused you of having a weakness.

“Shouldn’t you have ripped your heart out a long time ago, great granddaughter of Hashirama?” Yeosang had mocked you then.

“Oh, go find someone else to spar with Yeosang, I'm tired of you,” You had attempted to dismiss him.

What you hadn't known was that your explosions of emotions were what Yeosang looked forward to the most. He was so devoid of feeling anything for such a long time that you were refreshing, despite all his provoking.

Yeosang quirked an eyebrow at you, making direct eye contact, the most you had ever seen that beautiful face move. “Tire of me? I haven’t heard that one before. Normally, everyone is begging me to show them something.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Like that would ever happen. I don’t think you would know emotion if it hit you on the head.” That’s when you pushed it. “In fact, I doubt anyone could get a rise out of you, including your cock.”

Yeosang cocked his head at you, face still blank. “Don’t think I know how to use the sword on my body?”

“Tch.” You sneered. “I highly doubt you could please someone, let alone be passionate.”

A shiver went from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes as Yeosang smirked. You should have been terrified. Instead, you were turned on. “Do you want to test that out, brat?”

You took a step forward that brought you nose to nose with the enemy of your ancestors. “I’d relish proving you wrong.”

And then the rough sex that followed was like nothing you had ever experienced. You both ripped your robes in order to grope at each other’s chest. Yeosang pushed your breasts together while massaging them while you flicked your thumbs over his nipples, looking for him to break.

You wrestled and fought for the upper hand, to be the more dominant one, but Yeosang was simply a smidgeon stronger than you. He pinned you against his chest, an arm against your collarbones, and he began to play with your body even more. It wasn’t until those skilled fingers found your wet folds that you heard a low chuckle in your ear.

“Are you having fun, little one? You’re so wet I would think you were eager to be beneath me.”

You were so shocked by the sound of his laugh but didn’t fight him when he released your upper body and instead pulled one of your legs up so he could have easier access to your aching puss.

“That’s simply the adrenaline talking,” You argued. You had to bite hard into your lips to keep the moan that was attempting to escape your lips in. “Like I could ever get pleasure from something you did to me.”

Except now, that was exactly what was happening. And you were starting to think that Yeosang was enjoying himself.

“Does it make you wet at the thought that I’ll impale you in the middle of this forest where anyone could stumble upon us? Hmmm, little brat? Want someone to watch while your mortal enemy fucks you into an orgasm?” Yeosang teased and tempted you.

A whine was building in the back of your throat and the plea for him to fuck you was on the tip of your tongue. But your pride was burning your throat.

“You have to say it,” Yeosang whispered into the skin along your neck. “I could bring you to the peak of your pleasure and stop. Again and again. In fact, I could torture you with my Tsukuyomi in that very way, and only a moment would pass.”

“Make no mistake,” You panted, your body still rolling into his hand as his fingers squealched and fucked your pussy. “I hate you.”

“And yet.” Yeosang was hanging off your words. He just needed you to give him the go-ahead, and he would show you exactly how you affect his emotions and his passion.

“Fuck me, Yeosang,” You asked lowly, “Make me feel something for you that isn’t hatred.”

Yeosang moaned. “Gladly.”

With both of his hands cupping just under your knees, Yeosang held you aloft and lowered you down on his straining cock. You whimpered as he fought his way inside of you, thrusting into your wet cunt, making room in your soft walls for his cock. Each inch pushed inside was torture because it felt so good but you wanted the whole of him inside of you; you needed to be fucked until you screamed from your orgasm.

Each whimper that you let out as Yeosang fucked you was a gift to the Uchiha. For someone who had suppressed quite a lot in his life, sex was the one time he could let loose. The way you trembled for him, begged for him, whined for him was reawakening parts of him that he thought had long died. But what he wanted the most was for you to say his name with passion. He wanted to hear your name drip like honey from your lips instead of like poison.

“Does it feel that good, being fucked by your mortal enemy, brat?” Yeosang poked at you. “Does my cock give you that much pleasure that you have no more words to throw at me like a kunai?”

Your head lolled back, pleasure making you a willing ragdoll for Yeosang to fuck. You had never felt this way with any man. It was like with each stroke of Yeosang inside of you, he was looking for you to be pleased rather than himself. It was as if he wasn’t taking from you but giving.

“How is it so good?” You rasped hoarsely, your moans already making your throat dry. “I’ve never felt such pleasure before?!”

“There’s a reason they beg me to never leave,” Yeosang admitted tonelessly, “After one taste of me, you’ll be ruined for everyone else. On that, I can swear.”

You believed him because no cock had ever felt as good as the one sheathed between your legs did now. “Wanna cum,” You whimpered, mind solely on your growing orgasm.

“Already? You’re a greedy brat,” Yeosang mocked you. “You’re an easy lay.”

“I’m--hnnnn-not--ah, ah, ah--just--fuck, shit, Yeosang! Yeosang, just like that,” You whined, the build up of your orgasm ushered by the way that Yeosang fucked up into your pussy like a well oiled machine.

“Say my name like that again,” Yeosang demanded.

“Yeosang! Yeosang! Yeosang!”

He came inside of you with a quiet grunt, buried deep inside of you. He unloaded into you, an amount that filled you to the brim and then spilled out. You felt as his cum dripped out of you and onto the ground of the forest.

With the final thrust, so deep inside of you that you felt his tip nudging your womb, you came. You screamed his name, stars lighting up behind your eyelids as you were gifted with such an intense orgasm that you were happy that Yeosang was holding you aloft.

Yeosang let go of one leg, then another, a hand on your waist to make sure you didn’t collapse. “Let me fuck you like that again, brat. I promise you I can show you a lot more.”

Wooyoung’s hyena laughter shattered the illusion that Yeosang had created just as he released you. “He’s right, you know. Men and women beg for him to show them something other than his cool, pretty face.”

Yeosang had indeed used his Tsukuyomi, the power of his eyes to trap you in a moment in your own mind, and had fucked you there the minute you had met his eyes. The illusion, the mind power, was so powerful that it felt exactly like reality.

Your face burned with embarrassment. Your undergarments were simply flooded from the pleasure your mind had thought you had received. Your clothes were not ripped either. Wooyoung’s laughter died, and he peered at you and then Yeosang with curiosity.

“You two should just fuck already, the sexual tension is palpable,” Wooyoung observed, albeit a second too late.

You screamed in anger, triggering a tree to grow, capturing Wooyoung by the collar and leaving him hanging, not quite understanding what exactly he had said. And Yeosang, the immovable statue of the Akatsuki, laughed at his best friend and partner, unable to contain any glee at the moment.

🥀Day Nine: Long Distance Sex/ Praise 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia

#joongfryefff24 #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #kang yeosang smut #atz smut #yeosang smut #kang yeosang x reader #topaz's work #ღatz

161 notes · View notes

khaire-traveler · 7 months ago

Text

🌫️ Subtle Erebos Worship 🌑

Sit in stillness for a while, especially darkness; meditate or become comfortable in the quiet

Take time each day to decompress from the events of the day; relax and rest

Drink herbal tea or a warm drink you enjoy before bed; preferably something soothing

Get a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Start a bedtime/nighttime routine

Try to avoid screens an hour before bed; try reading a book, drawing, or another relaxing and screenless activity

Fall asleep/meditate/study to music reminiscent of emptiness, stillness, or liminality (links included to videos I sleep/listen to c:)

Have a stuffed animal that reminds you of darkness, stillness, or The Void™; nocturnal animals work well (Stygian owl, trust me)

Have imagery of fog, darkness, the night sky, what you believe the creation of the universe looked like, or The Underworld (his name is sometimes conflated with The Underworld itself) around

Dedicate a collection of coins to the souls passing into The Underworld who don't have coins to cross the Stygian

Watch the sunrise; watch the sunset

Learn about the night sky; learn the different constellations and myths they have

Learn about space; learn about cave systems; learn about anything you consider mysterious, expansive, and a bit frightening

Visit/tour a cave (SAFELY!!!!)

Leave water outside for nocturnal animals that stop by; leave out water for a bird bath

Listen to the morning bird songs; listen to the sounds of the night

Press/dry a flower still wet with evening dew

Practice mindfulness; practice meditation

Go camping, and sleep under the stars; take time to be present in nature, in the night

Watch a scary movie in the dark; you're also welcome to watch a comfort movie instead

Collect animal bones (thank the animal's spirit after doing so)

If fog rolls in, go outside in it; take a walk in it (SAFELY!!!)

Plant seeds in the ground; start a garden; tend to plants

Grow your own herbs or produce

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones; engage in spirit work if comfortable

Visit a cemetery; leave flowers on graves if given permission to do so

Reflect on your deeper beliefs; what do you believe about the different mysteries/uncertainties of life (the afterlife, universe creation, purpose, etc.)

Dance/sing to music that makes you feel ancient, mystical, mysterious, or generally cool

Take a walk during a new moon (if it is safe to do so your area)

Learn about self-defense; be sure to take a weapon with you when going out at night (if you feel it's necessary mostly)

Wear black or darker colors

Take a relaxing bath/shower at night, especially with herbs or in dim light (SAFELY!!!)

Write/read ghost or mystery stories

Light a bonfire; gather around it with loved ones; share scary or mysterious stories

Support space, deep ocean, or deep cave exploration organizations; support nocturnal animal preservation organizations

Learn about the different phases of the moon; learn about what each one means

Practice patience and restraint

Find healthy outlets for extreme emotions; drawing, writing, boxing, dancing, crafting, etc.

Learn to become comfortable within your own presence (this takes practice, it'll be ok)

Sleep with a small bag of soothing herbs under your pillow (lavender, jasmine, etc.) or charms

Keep a dream journal; try to interpret your dreams

This is my list of discreet ways to worship Erebos! He is rarely talked about, from what I've seen, but he is the God of Darkness, born from the primordial Khaos at the creation of everything. He is paired with Nyx often, and the two have had several children, including Hypnos and Thanatos. His name was used interchangeably with The Underworld sometimes. I'll likely add more later, but for now, I hope you enjoy what I've made. Take care. ❤️

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #erebos #erebus #erebus deity #erebos deity #erebus worship #erebos worship #paganblr #pagan tips #deity worship

77 notes · View notes

daintylovers · 6 months ago

Text

hehehe- i just rewatched The Outsiders

and if there's one thing i walked away with from that experience, it's that i need dallas winston in a way that has my ancestors rolling in their graves.

i just know dallas is the type to lean down to your level when you guys are talking- solely to make fun of you. he's mean. but he's so cute that it doesn't affect you in the way it should.

and when you start messing up your words, he just smirks and tilts his head- come on doll, speak up. you know i can't understand ur mumblings.

but how could you? he's towering over you, practically caging you in with his imposing frame. and he's not even that fucking tall!!!!! it's just his essence, the confidence of a man who can get away with anything. he's so close his body heat is melting into yours, and your cheeks are flushing. though, your cheeks were flushing for more than just simple hot vs. cold reasons. and he knew it too.

that bastard- he knew exactly what effect he had on you. you with your innocent eyes, soft puffs of breath escaping from your parted lips. like a deer in headlights, he could say.

i neeeeeeeddddd him <3

#signed dainty 💌#dallas winston #quick blurb #reader insert #fic rec #fiction #fanfic #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x you #the outsiders x y/n #dallas winston x reader #dally winston #dally winston x reader

44 notes · View notes

cassiachales · 8 months ago

Text

Love You To The ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 (And To *ੈ✩‧₊˚𝓢𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷)

so i saw this post by @never-enough-novels, and aneesha was looking over my shoulder like "cass, you should totally write for that) so obviously, i did. aneesha, ye aapke lie hai (don't judge i used google translate) also, i know i have fics left. but no one said i can't write a oneshot for my best friend <33

Grayson Hawthorne x Desi!reader (but can also be read as just a reader)

"Do you really have to go?" Grayson asks you, his hands around your waist. You blow a stray lock of your hair off your face, looking at his silver-gray eyes in the mirror.

"I don't really have a choice, jaan."

He scoffs. "They advanced your meeting, love. You don't have to bow to them, or be a people pleaser."

He shifts, and while he keeps one arm on your waist, his body is next to yours instead of behind.

Your kohl-lined eyes widen as your look at him in the eyes. His hair is still ruffled from last night and you can see his (previously neatly pressed) shirt now all ruffled.

Then you raise your hand, filled with bracelets and promise rings, and lay it on his cheek.

He leans into your touch as though it is the only thing grounding him.

He has ways of making you feel special.

"As much as I would like to deny being a people pleaser, I was raised like that. To be the least comfortable person in the room. Best to make everyone happy before I'm happy, right? And Gray," you laugh, a small laugh that lasted all of two seconds, "that's my company. I can't show up late for my own meeting, can I?"

"No one will say anything if you're late for your own meeting, jaan."

Your breath catches.

It's not like it's the first time he's ever used that endearment with you. He's used countless others, too.

But every single time he calls you jaan, you melt. Oh, he loves you, and you love him.

"Only because you'd pull some strings, Gray."

"How good of a fiancé would I be if I didn't want to spend time with my future bride?"

Your lips near his ears, and you whisper, "we spent enough time together last night. Enough that my ancestors are rolling in their graves at the amount of" you gasp, a small, theatrical gasp "time we spent."

Then you pull away, and pretend to ignore his blushing face.

That man was stuck in the regency.

You adjust your scarf, and make sure your earrings are straight before you walk to the dressing table and collect your bag.

Another gift.

He walks to you, and his arms are around your waist again.

You'd noticed that physical touch was his love language. And you liked touch.

"At least give me a kiss before you leave." He says.

Years ago, this wasn't the Grayson Hawthorne you'd met. That man was cold and closed off and never seemed to care.

Then he met you, and you met him. What started as a fake arrangement led to something oh so real that you couldn't even fathom not meeting him in his office to repay that loan your father had taken from his grandfather.

His lips are now near yours, and right before they touch, he stops.

Another thing he always did was ask before he kissed you. Even after years, he asked.

He always asked.

"May I?" He whispered.

"Always." You whisper back, and your lips meet in the middle in a perfect fit.

Like you were always meant to be together.

Like the two of you were two parts of one heart. The two of you'd met with your hearts broken, but they'd broken in perfect pieces.

The broken, shattered piece of his heart fit flawlessly with your torn and splintered one.

The two of you pulled away, and a bit of your lipstick was on his lips, and smudged on yours.

"I love you, you know that, right?" He whispers when your foreheads touch. This moment was tailored just for the two of you.

"Yes. And I love you more."

"Impossible."

"I love you to the moon and back."

You can practically hear his lips quirk up. "I love you to the moon and to Saturn."

"Do you, now?"

"You dare to question the amount of love I have for you?"

You laugh, and you see how his face lights up. "Oh, I don't dare to question you. You're almost always right."

"Almost?"

"Fine, fine, jaan. You're always right."

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #au #fanfic #the inheritance games #x reader #desi!reader

60 notes · View notes

mysticmonkeybusiness · 4 months ago

Text

Prompt: something fluffy between ao lie and wukong (bonus if it could be paralleled with mk and mei) requested by @visionaryscribe

also @swkbiggestdefender bc you were screaming about ao lie and wukong a few days ago so i figured you would want to see it.

“Don’t you get tired of being stuck as a horse all the time?” Wukong asks, leaning against the stable entrance.

The White Dragon horse snorts in amusement, eyes twinkling with mirth. “You’re overthinking things. I find it rather peaceful.”

Wukong makes a face and pulls at the circlet. “I can hardly stand this thing and you’re saying you’re okay with changing forms entirely? I mean, come on! You’re a dragon!”

Ao Lie grins, which is unsettling on a horse’s face. “I know. My ancestors must be rolling in their graves, it’s the best.”

Huh. That’s… “You don’t like your family?”

Ao Lie pauses, clearly thinking it over. Slowly, he says, “It’s not that I don’t like them. Though they’re pretty stuffy. Break one itty bitty present from the Jade Emperor and suddenly you’re kicked out of your own home.”

Wukong has to hide his own grin of amusement at his friend’s predicament. Grumbling, the dragon-horse continues, “It’s more that I’m nothing like how they think I should be. I don’t see the point in fighting a lot of the time, and I hardly have any of that dragon pride my father keeps muttering about. Bit of a disappointment compared to my sister, really. But I do miss them.”

Sobering, Wukong’s mind flashes to Flower Fruit Mountain and the monkeys he left behind. He hopes Macaque hasn’t had too much trouble looking out for them on his own. He swallows and forces a smile. “Yeah? What do you miss the most?”

Ao Lie looks at him thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Hm. I would have to say, I miss badgering my sister until she agreed to sleep with me the most. She pretends she doesn’t like it, but she always agrees to my request in the end.”

Oh. Wukong looks around the stable lacking any other horses and glances back at the house that agreed to host them for the night. Eh, the others probably won’t miss him. Would be nice to get a night’s sleep without Bajie’s snoring in his ears. And the host family doesn’t have any young girls for the pig to harass. “Got room for one more then?”

Smiling softly, eyes brightening with fond warmth, Ao Lie says, “Of course.”

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk sun wukong #lmk ao lie #my writing #ficlet

46 notes · View notes

jaskierx · 11 months ago

Note

Every time I see some Taika slander on this app, I block. And I don’t even care about him because I have no clue how he is in real life, but I have enough of the bullshit. Taika is a Zionist? Block. Taika’s fault for whatever-pick-anything? Block. Taika is an evil man? Block. Taika doesn’t do enough to promote ofmd? Block. Taika did this and that in his private life? One, how the fuck would you know, random person who lives in Germany? Keep your nose out of his goddamn business. Second. BLOCK. Let’s celebrate Taika’s shows ending one after the other? You guessed it. Block. Someone literally said Taika’s ancestors are rolling in their grave in shame. Bloooocccckkkkk.

I have no words, this is vile. And this public character assassination has gone on for way too long, from medias and randos on the internet alike.

Those people who gloat and say the most horrendous things need to get off their moral high horse, clean in front of their doorstep and go outside to touch some grass. I don’t know why they’re so spiteful but they need to heal their soul. They’re keyboard activists that are looking for trends to be mad about so they can pretend to care and be morally superior. And then they can harass others. They don’t care and they can’t fool me and they can fuck off. Blockity block block block.

God… I got heated real quick. Sorry about that. But for real, I hope he stays the hell away from social media.

yeah i've blocked literally dozens of people in the last 30ish hours and the vast majority are people who have never watched ofmd who decided to go into the tag and post about how happy they are that the 'racist tv show' that's 'run by zionists' is cancelled and 'the zionists' are now 'unemployed'. or people who are casual fans of ofmd who were like 'meh s2 was bad and you could tell taika was bored of it'

it's just so fucking stupid. i hate this whole mentality that people are either 100% perfect and morally pure or they're evil and every bad thing that happens to them should be celebrated. i hate that people are so desperate to blame taika when the show wouldn't fucking exist without him. i hate that people are so confidently stating shit like 'david should've known taika couldn't commit for 3 seasons' like fuck that parasocial ass shit you don't know any of these people! imagine if it was the other way around and the cast started posting shit on twitter like 'lol lyse jaskierx should lose her job bc i can tell she's bored of spreadsheets'. it's ridiculous

#asks #anon #taika waititi

55 notes · View notes

kandisheek · 1 year ago

Note

WELL THEN. If we are doing prompts. Stony, one stupid, repeated argument they have. Gimme all the petty stable relationship feels 🤣

Squabbling Stony, coming right up!

---

Clint was munching on a handful of chips, walking out of the elevator when he noticed the smell of tomato sauce wafting from the kitchen. He followed it through the living room, stopping when he saw Tony slumped over on the couch table, his head in his hands.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Tony mumbled under his breath, and Clint put the pieces together in his head.

“Are you doing the spaghetti thing?”

“The what?” Tony asked in a voice that threatened imminent violence.

“You are, aren’t you,” Clint said, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. “Fucking hell, how many times are you going to fight over this? Just let the man live.”

“It’s an insult to my heritage,” Tony said gravely, not raising his head. “And if you take his side, you can both go to hell.”

“They’re noodles, Tony,” Steve shouted from the kitchen. “They’ll end up in your stomach either way.”

“My ancestors are crying,” Tony lamented. “Nonna is turning in her grave.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Who cares if you break them or not?”

Tony whipped around, giving him a look of utter betrayal. “Blasphemy!”

“I’m sure the spaghetti gods will forgive me,” Clint said as Steve came into the room, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty,” he said, and Tony glared daggers at him.

“I’m not eating that.”

Steve sighed. “Tony, come on…”

“No. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Steve gave him an incredulous look. “Over noodles? Seriously?”

“Maybe then you’ll finally learn to respect spaghetti,” Tony said, and Clint snorted.

“Well, if you’re not supposed to break them, maybe they should just make them shorter from the get go.”

Tony pointed at him, outraged. “You take that back, you uncultured swine.”

“Or what, you gonna make me sleep on the couch too?” Clint asked, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “Movie marathon at my place, I guess.”

“If you watch Zootopia without me again, I will never forgive you,” Tony hissed, right as Natasha came in, looking between the three of them.

“Is this another spaghetti thing?”

“There is no spaghetti thing!” Tony roared, and Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“So Steve looks like a kicked puppy for some other reason?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight,” Steve explained, a note of sadness in his voice. Clint caught the way Tony’s eye twitched at the sound. “Because of noodles.”

“Maybe you should stop breaking them,” Natasha suggested, and Tony whirled around to gesture at her with both hands, staring at Steve and Clint with wide eyes like, See?

“But they’re so inconvenient to eat,” Steve said, earning himself another huff from Tony.

“Inconvenient. I’ll show you inconvenient when I shove my fist up your ass.”

The elevator dinged, and Bruce stuck his head in.

“I smell tomato sauce.” A pause. “Are they having the spaghetti fight?”

“Nobody asked you,” Tony grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Clint didn’t miss the hopelessly fond look on Steve’s face when he looked at Tony. Christ, that boy was whipped. “I’ll order pizza instead.”

“That’s rude, Tony. Steve cooked for us,” Bruce said, and Tony gave him a betrayed look.

“Et tu, Brute?”

“We still have some uncooked spaghetti left,” Steve said, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I didn’t break them yet. Do you want those?”

Tony looked at Steve’s hand, then wrinkled his nose and met his eyes. “You’re still on thin ice tonight.”

“I’ll throw in a glass of wine and some parmigiano?”

Clint saw Tony’s mouth twitch with an unwilling smile at Steve’s horrible Italian pronunciation. Then he sighed, covering Steve’s hand with his own. “Fine. But I reserve the right to judge you on your choice of wine.”

“Deal.” Steve bent down to kiss Tony, and Clint rolled his eyes, stretching his arms over his head.

“Great. Now that that’s over, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“Good idea.” Tony let Steve pull him to his feet, walking over to the kitchen - and stopping dead in his tracks. “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Why is there ketchup on the counter?” Tony asked in a deceptively mild tone, and Clint sighed, dropping down on the couch as Steve started stammering excuses.

“Wake me up when they’re done,” Clint said, lying down with his arms crossed behind his head. “Should only take a couple hours.”

You can also find this fic on AO3, right here :)

#marvel #stony #fanfic #stony fic #steve tony #fanfic asks #snippet #kandisheek-fics #kandisheekfics

104 notes · View notes

jmagnabo92 · 7 months ago

Text

Princess Alex

Just a little fluff fic for the boys :)

AO3

After the boys celebrate their engagement, Alex teases about if he's going to get the chance to be Princess Alex.

***

Three plus years after the leak, and four years after their first visit to Paris together, Alex finds himself curled up in Henry’s arms. Henry had arranged for them to spend spring break in Paris. Visiting the city, enjoying being happy and in love, and as of dinner tonight… engaged.

Naturally they had celebrated and now were cuddling together.

Alex is laying on his right side, curled into Henry, and smiling at his ring. He’d gotten a similar band for Henry – although more catered to Henry’s taste just as Alex’s ring is catered to his own, he’d been planning to propose to Henry at the lake house that summer, but Henry beat him to the punch, and he wasn’t going to wait months to see his ring on Henry’s finger.

“You like it, love?”

Alex hums. “Love it. Really making history here, huh, baby?”

“Absolutely. I’m just imaging the chaos of a Royal Wedding with two men – one of which is from the country that succeeded from us 250 years ago, it’s definitely going to make history.”

Henry kisses his curls, and adds, “Plus, it’s going to make my ancestors roll in their graves and I’m going to love that.”

Alex laughs. “Can you imagine your gran’s reaction if she were still around?”

“The only reason I was able to get permission to marry you is because my mother is Queen now.”

Of course, Alex knows this. Catherine has been Queen for more than a year and that’s made everything far easier on them. Even if the long-drawn-out funeral situation had affected their relationship with Henry being required to do certain things in London for so long while Alex was stuck doing his second year of law school. He wanted to be there for Henry, but ‘official royal suitor’ is not enough to get much leeway for his schooling.

He was just glad that it fell in a way that he could join Henry for the summer in London as he took up some of his royal duties after the coronation of their new queen. Unlike with the former Queen, Catherine encouraged Henry to have Alex supporting him throughout those duties, which made both of them a lot happier and the press had started teasing about wondering when Alex would become Princess Alex, which Alex actually loved.

“Speaking of my new queen, do you think she’ll officially make me a Princess?” Alex teases.

Henry bursts out laughing. “Typically speaking getting married warrants you the title of Duke or Duchess, not Prince or Princess, but I do think you could convince the public to call you Princess Alex, they already do anyway.”

“I suppose that I could settle for Duchess,” Alex grins. “But why deny the public what they really want?”

“You’re such a menace to society. It’s not the public that started this whole Princess Alex thing and you know it,” Henry says, with a chuckle.

He’s right, of course he is. Shortly after their forced outing and his mother winning the election, the crown and the white house wanted them to do an interview discussing things and answering a few questions.

“So, Alex, now that we know a little about what Prince Henry’s plans are, why don’t you tell us a little bit about your own?” the host of the interview asks.

“Well, given everything that’s happened with the campaign and the election, I have to say my political aspirations have definitely changed, I definitely don’t want to be a senator by the time I’m thirty anymore, but that left me a little… floundering. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.”

Here he decides to make a joke because he really doesn’t want to talk about why he’s changing away from politics.

“So, I considered my options. I briefly considered just being a princess now that I got Henry –”

“You would be a pretty princess, Alex,” Henry teases.

“And it even rolls off the tongue well, Princess Alex,” he teases.

“I do like the sound of it.”

There are cheers from the crowd that agree.

“But,” Alex states, despite the grinning. “But part of the reason Henry and I fell in love is because we both want to do good in the world. So, rather just be a princess, although it would be delightful, I’ve decided to go to law school. I want to help minorities and underprivileged people and make a difference.”

“That’s great.”

There’s a bit of a lull and Alex knows the show’s about to end, so he says, “Besides, Henry’s mom got to be the first princess with a doctorate, so I could totally be the first princess with a law degree someday.”

He and Henry had burst out laughing, as had the crowd.

After that, the hashtag Princess Alex had gone wild on twitter and Instagram with everyone arguing that Alex would be an awesome Princess (helped by June and Bea’s comments that he would look oh so pretty in a dress and tiara – Pez and Nora had even done mockups of him in dresses and tiaras next to a mockup of Henry as Prince Charming –, and it was not at all hindered by Zahra or Philip’s annoyance by the tag). Ever since, the press had referred to Alex as “the First Son (Princess Alex)” in the papers. Particularly when he was in an article with Henry.

It helped that any time Alex tweeted about him and Henry, he used the hashtag as well, and so had the others, who thought the idea was hilarious.

“It doesn’t matter who started what – it doesn’t even matter that I was joking, what does matter is that the people have taken to it and me like I knew that they would, and they would thrilled to make me an official princess.”

Henry laughs. “Half of me thinks you only said yes so that you could officially be a princess.”

“You’re so right – I befriended you, let you kiss me and turn my world on its axis by making me realize I’m bi, go through this whole thing where I was madly in love – couldn’t get enough of that mouth and your dick – but really all along… it was ploy. I wanted to be ‘Princess Alex’ and it was worth sucking your dick just to get that.”

Henry reaches behind him and grabs a pillow before hitting him with it. “You’re such a demon.”

“Yes, but I’m your demon now,” Alex says, returning fire with the pillow. “Now and forever,” he says as he laces his left hand with Henry’s left hand, smiling at the way their bands shine together.

Henry grins. “Even if it was some ploy to become a Princess – I’m okay with that, as long as you’re my princess.”

“You’re such a sap,” Alex teases. Then he goes and kisses him anyway. “Can we make a post celebrating or do we have to wait for the press teams involved?”

“Technically we’re supposed to let them announce it, but since when do we ever listen to them?”

Alex grins as he holds up their hands laced together and snaps of them with their rings – he’d do a picture of him and Henry kissing, but it’d be far too obvious what they’ve been up to tonight, so hands it is.

He adds the caption:

We said yes, here’s to making history again. #theprinceandtheprincess #princessalex #princehenry #engaged #firstprince #history, huh?

He shows it to Henry, who smiles and nods, “Post it.”

The second he does, it breaks his records on his posts in minutes and knowing that they would rather celebrate than deal with wedding details already, he turns the phone off and says, “Well, baby, I think we can let the world marinate on us making history again, while I make use of the wonderful mouth of yours.”

Henry grins, “Sounds like a plan, love.”

“Good.”

***

Tagging those that seemed interested in the snippet:

@onthewaytosomewhere @iboatedhere @thesleepyskipper @theprinceandagcd @fullsunsets

#rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #Firstprince #first prince #red white and royal blue

33 notes · View notes

c-e-d-dreamer · 1 year ago

Text

When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower: Prologue

A/N: I know it's technically November first, which means Spooky Season is officially over, but what do you say we keep the spooky vibes going just a little bit longer? And what better way to do that than with witchy Nesta! And future werewolf Cassian ;) I am very excited for what I have planned for this fic, and I hope everyone enjoys! And if you don't, well, this is a love letter fic to @dustjacketmusings only, so I don't care. Also, gold star to everyone who can pick up on the 3 easter eggs in this prologue.

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Darkness from the west trembles in the light As the sun rises on a new empire Shatter, crack, and take back what is right The golden bonds escape the pyre Mother blessed unity births power unforeseen The gods will bow before the strength of three

~ * * * ~

“Again.”

Nesta swallows down her wince. Swallows down the tingling pain in her cramped fingers. Swallows down the throb that's taken up home in her head, the way it makes everything fuzzy around the edges. Instead, she takes a deep breath, reaching for that well of power within herself. Sometimes, she likes to imagine it as a cat, napping in the sun when it's resting. She imagines that now, imagines stroking her hand along its fur until it begins to purr to life.

“Nesta.”

The cold, clipped tone has Nesta flinching instinctively. “I'm trying, Mama.”

“Clearly, you are not trying hard enough,” her mother scoffs, and even without looking at her, Nesta can imagine the disappointed scowl that's sure to be pinching Elinor Archeron's face. “You are an Archeron witch, or did you forget?”

“My magic is drained,” Nesta defends, squeezing her eyes tighter and trying to focus. “I just need another moment.”

“Drained?” Elinor's laugh is nothing short of mocking. “Your ancestors could do this in their sleep. You are a disgrace to our family name. I don't even know why I bother.”

“I can do it.”

Nesta knows her snapped words mean nothing if she can't prove it. She reaches for that beast inside her again and grabs fur until it roars. Until she can feel her magic slink between her fingers, wreathing its way up her arms. It sings in her veins and floods her lungs so every breath is pure power, writhing like a dancer in time to her pounding heart.

A hard strike across the face has Nesta crashing back down, a pained gasp tumbling past her lips. She cradles her cheek with her hand, blinking up at her mother, but Elinor's rage is potent. A fire practically blazes in those blue eyes, its path of wrath and destruction pinned right on Nesta.

“You stupid girl. Are you trying to burn the whole house down?”

“I'm sorry, Mama,” Nesta whispers before she swallows hard and stands up straight again, holding her chin high. Never cower, never let her see the cracks. “I'll be better next time.”

“You better be,” Elinor sneers, brushing her hands down the skirts of her dress and turning toward the door. It's a clear dismissal, an end to today's lessons. “Do not disappoint me, Nesta.”

Nesta can't help but flinch at the too loud sound of the door closing behind her mother. She presses a hand to her mouth to quiet the shuddering breath she lets out, blinking hard around the stinging heat pressing behind her eyes. When she presses her fingers to the skin of her cheek, she can still feel the lingering soreness from being slapped, but she's hopeful there won't be any bruising.

There certainly won't be a scar.

As if of their own accord, Nesta's fingers absentmindedly slide along the raised skin on her thumb. At least her mother's lessons aren't like the ones with her grandmother.

A knock at the door has Nesta almost jumping out of her skin in surprise, and for a fearful moment, she half wonders if her thoughts somehow summoned her grandmother back from beyond the grave. But then she hears her sister's voice, tentatively calling her name through the wood.

“Go away, Elain,” Nesta calls back, rolling her eyes even though her sister can't see her.

“But I need your help,” Elain protests, a hint of the whine Nesta knows always works on their father bleeding into her tone.

With a huff, Nesta stalks over to the door, yanking it open and not even bothering to hide her annoyance as she demands, “what?”

Elain chews on her lip, fiddling with the skirts of her dress, before admitting, “I lost Feyre.”

“What do you mean you lost Feyre?”

“Well, we were playing hide and seek, and she must have chosen a really good hiding place because I can't find her.”

“For Mother's sake,” Nesta sighs, already stepping out into the hall. “You know, next year, you'll be of a witch's age, and you won't have any more time for baby games.”

“Just because you came of age last year doesn’t mean you have to be so mean.”

Nesta’s steps stutter at Elain’s words, and she turns back around to find her sister still standing by the study door, her arms crossed and her expression less than impressed. Nesta knows that she’s right, but Nesta would also give anything to keep Elain and Feyre from turning thirteen. To let them play hide and seek and run through the gardens forever. To protect them from their mother’s clutches and her cruel lessons.

But Nesta has yet to find a spell for that.

So Nesta lets out a soft breath and offers Elain a small smile of apology. “Where did you already look for Feyre?”

Elain huffs quietly, practically a lamenting sigh, as she continues down the hall and to Nesta’s side. “I checked all the normal places. Under all the beds. Under Papa’s desk. All the closets.”

“Did you check the cellar?” Nesta asks, leading the way toward the main staircase.

“We’re not allowed down there, remember?”

“Exactly. And this is Feyre we’re talking about.”

Elain hums, and that’s answer enough for Nesta. With a shake of her head, she hurries down the main staircase and down the hall that leads to the cellar door. The dark wood looks unassuming, exactly as their mother intended it, but Nesta can feel the magic imbued within it. It seems to hum and whisper to her, seems to jump off the wood and skate across her skin and up her arms. If Nesta squints, she can even make out the protection runes carved beneath the wood stain.

Checking both ways down the hallway to make sure no one is watching, Nesta reaches forward, her fingers curling around the handle of the door. She closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath, feeling the magic pulsing through her hand before the handle twists and the door opens. She grabs Elain’s wrist and tugs her inside, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud.

Neither of them say anything as they follow the winding staircase down, Elain keeping her hand firmly in Nesta’s own. Nesta can’t say she minds the contact. The cellar has always made her feel uneasy. It’s the way she always feels like she’s being watched when she’s down here. The way whispers seem to creep along the floor and the walls like fog, Nesta never quite able to hear the words being spoken, but always having the undeniable feeling that they’re saying her name. It’s the way the air is always thick and still, as if whatever ominous presence calls this dark place home is holding its breath, even as it smiles from the shadows with too sharp teeth.

Nesta lets out a quiet breath when they reach the bottom of the stairs, giving Elain’s hand a gentle, comforting squeeze. Or perhaps it’s to help ground herself. She turns her attention to the left, unsurprised to find the door at the very end is cracked open, watery light spilling out around the edges like some sort of eerie beacon.

For a moment, Nesta hesitates, swallowing hard around the churning in her gut, the lump threatening to press into her throat. But then she swears she feels it, a presence beside her and Elain. But it doesn’t bring with it any of the unease the shadows of the cellar do. Instead, it feels almost warm, comforting. Like a mother’s hand curling around her shoulders, it urges her forward, guiding her through the door and into the room.

“You found me!” Feyre exclaims, jumping up from her spot crouched beside the door with a wide smile.

“Feyre, you know you’re not supposed to be in here,” Nesta seethes, already grabbing her youngest sister’s arm to tug her out of the room and back upstairs.

But Feyre yanks herself free, crossing her arms across her chest. “Just because you’re the oldest, that doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”

Feyre sticks her tongue out, belying her eleven years of age, and Nesta merely rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. Mama would be furious if she knew.”

“We get it, Nesta. You’re Mama’s favorite, always the perfect child. That doesn’t mean the rest of us want to be.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, what you don’t know.”

“Um…” Elain speaks up quietly, breaking up her sisters’ glaring contest. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”

Nesta snaps her attention to the center of the room, to the magical object she’s always refused to look directly at for too long. The Cauldron stands on a slightly raised wooden platform, the wide circumference large enough that Nesta is sure it could swallow all three of her and her sisters whole if it wanted to. The black iron it’s made from is dark as night, dark enough to drown any light, any life, even as the legends sing of life being poured from it.

And for the first time since Nesta ever laid eyes on it, the Cauldron truly seems alive.

The liquid inside bubbles and pops, dark smoke rising and curling from its depths. The smoke spills over the edge of the platform, slithering down the platform and across the floor to them. Nesta swears it looks almost star flecked as it creeps closer to Feyre, threatening to curl around her ankles. Feyre jumps away from the smoke, hiding behind Nesta and curling her hands tight enough around Nesta’s arm that her nails bite into the skin.

“What’s it doing?” Feyre demands, her voice barely above a hushed whisper.

“I don’t know,” Nesta mutters, her own voice quiet, as if the Cauldron might hear them if they’re too loud. “But we need to get out of here.”

Nesta turns on her heel to do just that, keeping Feyre with her, but her feet stutter before she can even take a single step. Elain’s eyes have completely glazed over, the honey brown color of them foggy, and her gaze is focused solely on the Cauldron. Her expression is entirely blank in a way that has alarm bells ringing in Nesta’s head, has every hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Elain…” Nesta starts cautiously, watching with wide eyes as her sister starts to walk closer to the Cauldron. “Elain, what are you doing?”

Whether her sister can hear her or not, Nesta isn’t sure. Elain continues walking until she’s stood right at the foot of the wooden platform, smoke dancing and curling up her calves like flames, sparking against her skin like daylight. Like a puppet on strings, Elain’s hand slowly raises from her side, her outstretched hand reaching forward.

“Elain, don’t!”

Nesta’s free hand curls around Elain’s wrists at the same moment Elain’s fingers curl around the lip of the Cauldron. Nesta’s chest heaves, her entire body tensing up in anticipation, but nothing happens. There’s no explosion, no blinding light. The ground doesn’t shake and rumble beneath their feet. There’s just that choking stillness.

“Darkness from the west trembles in the light,” Elain speaks, her voice somehow sounding far away, like it’s not her own.

“Elain?” Nesta whispers, giving her sister’s wrist a tentative squeeze.

“As the sun rises on a new empire—”

“What’s wrong with her? Why is she saying that?” Feyre asks over Elain’s still speaking voice.

“I don’t know,” Nesta hisses, turning over her shoulder to glare at Feyre.

“The golden bonds escape the pyre—”

“Elain,” Nesta tries again, tugging on her sister’s hand more forcefully. “Stop that.”

“—unity births power unforeseen.” Nesta drops Feyre's hand and steps forward, physically prying Elain’s fingers off the Cauldron. “The gods will bow before the strength of three.”

With a soft gasp, Elain stumbles back, Nesta curling an arm around her waist to try and hold her steady. Elain blinks a few times, and it’s stark relief that floods through Nesta as she takes in the bright brown color, pink flooding back into her sister's cheeks and face.

“What happened?” Elain asks, her words slightly slurred together.

Before Nesta can answer her, Elain’s eyes flutter closed, Nesta practically crashing to the cold, hard stone floor in her effort to catch Elain’s deadweight. She wraps her arms tightly around Elain, tugging so her sister’s head is cradled in her lap. Her heart starts to pound when she lifts her hand to Elain’s cheek, the skin cool and clammy beneath her touch. She snaps her attention back to Feyre, her youngest sister standing with wide eyes and her arms curled around herself.

“We need to get Mama.”

~ * * * ~

“Think harder, Nesta.”

It takes everything within Nesta to swallow down her sigh. She already knows what making such a sound will earn her, but it’s easier said than done. They’ve been at this for what feels like hours now.

“I told you, Mama. I can’t be sure,” Nesta explains, keeping her eyes downcast and away from where her mother is pacing across the room. “I was more focused on making sure Elain was okay.”

“Honestly, Nesta,” Elinor sighs, and though Nesta keeps her attention firmly on her own lap, she can perfectly imagine her mother’s expression. “Your sister gives a prophecy in the Cauldron’s presence, and you couldn’t bother to remember it?”

“There was…” Nesta squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus. “There was something about unity. Blessed unity and it creating unforseen power… something about an empire, I think?”

“An empire? What about an empire?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Dammit, Nesta. Focus.”

The slap sings hard across Nesta’s cheek, the metallic taste of blood spilling in her mouth from how hard she bites her tongue to keep in her cry of surprise. Her fingers curl into fists in her lap, nails biting into her skin to ground herself, and Nesta takes a shaking breath in and out of her nose. She can tell that her mother’s patience is wearing beyond thin, that soon her mother will tire of this back and forth. And she knows that if she doesn’t do this, Elinor will turn her methods on Feyre next.

So taking another, more calming breath, Nesta imagines herself back in that room, in that cellar with her sisters. She imagines the Cauldron before her, bubbling and smoking. She imagines Elain’s face and the faraway look in her eyes. She imagines seeing Elain’s mouth move, the words spilling forth.

“The gods will bow before the strength of three,” Nesta recites back, just as Elain had.

She waits for her mother's clipping words, perhaps another slap over only remembering the single, final line, but there's only silence echoing in the room. Tentatively, Nesta raises her head, intent on meeting her mother's steely blue gaze head on, but Elinor's focus is far away, her attention snagged out the window. Nesta turns her own attention outside, curiosity piqued, but whatever her mother is staring at, whatever she sees laid out before her, it's only in her mind. Finally, she turns back to Nesta, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at her painted lips.

“Perhaps you won't be a disappointment to the Archeron name after all.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #When We Howl #my fic

75 notes · View notes

aerodaltonimperial · 6 months ago

Note

Passive aggressive Jack letting Hook know he is mad by committing every Italian cooking taboo he can think of. Looking him dead in the eye as he breaks the pasta.

(this is the funniest prompt i have ever received, i need you to know this - 💚🧡)

Okay, at first, it could have been... not intentional. Jack's quiet, but, like, he's sometimes like that, and it doesn't always mean anything bad, it just means he's all up in his head about something, and normally Hook just lets him work it out 'cause Jack won't give anything away unless he's good and ready. But it ends up hitting 5 minutes with Hook standing on the other side of the kitchen island while Jack cooks, and Jack hasn't said a word, and Hook... may have misjudged this.

Shit. Did he do something? He doesn't think he did. Did he forget something? Oh, god. Oh, god, what day is it. He's so fucking bad at remembering things. Is today important? Fuck. What month is it? He's panicking when Jack finally raises his face, looking up from the pot of boiling water. He's got the spaghetti in his hands, all bunched together.

He glares at Hook, holds his gaze, and cracks the spaghetti pile in half.

Oooooookay, that's bad. Shit, Hook's absolutely fucked up. He's forgotten something, or he did something, or is it possible that Jack had a dream where Hook did something and he's punishing him for it? No, no, Jack wouldn't do that. Jack's not the kind who...

...pours a jar of pizza sauce into the bubbling pan while the pasta hasn't softened at all.

Oh my god, Hook's gonna die.

"How's... how's your mom?" he asks, though his mouth has gone dry.

"Great," Jack replies. He doesn't break the staring contest as he twists off another lid and dumps the whole jar of oyster sauce into the pasta soup.

Oh my god, why would he even buy oyster sauce?

"Uh," Hook tries. "How's your..."

The rest dies on his tongue as Jack pours in a bottle of worcestershire. Jesus christ. Hook's entire family tree is rolling in their graves right now.

He has to leave the kitchen, but it was the wrong choice, because when Jack finally sets the food in front of him, the pasta is.... soup. It's fucking soup, and it's about the run off the plate. Hook spots chunks of pineapple swimming in the abomination.

Jack leans down, hands on his knees and falsely bright smile plastered on his face. "What day is today?"

"...Monday?"

"Well, you got close," Jack says. "It does end in y. How about an easier question."

Hook squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't have to look at the crimes against food mocking him from the plate. "Please don't."

"What date is today?"

"The... 10th?"

"It's the 22nd," Jack tells him. "So if you subtract four, what day would it have been four days ago?"

"The..." Oh no. Oooooooh no. "The one-year anniversary of... oh god." He's sweating; it's beading up on his forehead and falling into the food and he can only imagine that it would improve this absolute fucking horror show.

"Yeah," Jack says.

Hook swallows, and it hurts. "I forgot our anniversary."

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna have to eat this, aren't I?"

"Every single bite."

He can't. He'll throw up. He'll throw up, and Jack will absolutely dump the rest of the plate on his head, and he'll have to explain to everyone why his boyfriend broke up with him and gave him a concussion. "I love you?"

"Don't even think about it, asshole," Jack whispers. "You're gonna eat all of that, and then we'll see."

Dear god in heaven. Hook utters a silent prayer slash apology to all his ancestors shrieking in the great beyond, picks up his fork, and prepares to give his entire fucking life, and possibly his functioning stomach, to his relationship.

#tag so you don't lose this shit

30 notes · View notes

itsfairly · 1 year ago

Note

Nanami x reader where the reader teaches Kento about Dia de los Muertos? And they make a small ofrenda and put their most beloved people on them (like Yū Haibara for Nanami).

P.S HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND DIA DE LOS MUERTOS Fairly!!! I hope you have a great holiday

Obon & Día de Muertos // Nanami Kento x gn! Latine!reader

word count: 1.7k

cw: gn!reader, latine!reader, fluff, established relationship, very little info on both celebrations (i was having flashbacks to my undergrad research papers lol), petnames (sweetheart, beautiful, love)

summary: Japan had Obon and Latino America has Día de Muertos, celebrations that are much more similar than what you two realize. So when Día de Muertos rolls around, Nanami decides to do a surprise for you just like you have one for him.

a/n: thank you for calling again, @erigaur! thank you and happy (late) halloween and dia de los muertos to you too! i had fun doing this request because i didn't know about obon before and it is so interesting how similar it is to día de muertos. Thinking about it has made me imagine how Nanami would instantly understand día de muertos and adopt some of the traditions if he had a latine partner. So here is the idea, hope you enjoy it!

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

It was around Obon week that Nanami first heard you mention Dia de los Muertos. He was explaining to you how he has gotten quite busy this week from having to balance between work and preparations for Obon, quick to explain to you how Obon is a festival in which people pay respect to their ancestors and those who have passed away for a couple of days. He knew not many cultures dealt with the topic of death, but as someone whose line of work often reminded him of it through the many losses he had to bear witness along with the possibility of his own, he found the festival to be quite important.

“Oh, like Dia de los Muertos.” You chimed in, which was met with a few blink from Nanami that asked for clarification. “Day of the Dead, we celebrate it around October-November but it's the same thing—we honor the dead as they come back to us. I didn’t know other cultures had something similar to it.”

“Not so different after all,” he hums, leaning back on his seat as he realizes the similarity between your cultures. Nanami begins to wonder about your version of the holiday. Sure, he has heard it becoming more prominent over at mainstream media in a way that Obon is not, and yet, those mentions were never in depth.

“So what do you guys do during Obon?” He heard you ask, looking up at you and seeing your curiosity in your eyes.

“We visit our ancestors and those who have passed away, take care of their graves and leave offerings and lanterns for them.” Nanami throws his head back, sighing as he thinks over the holiday. “It’s not a one-day holiday, each day has its own tradition and we hold a festival to celebrate it.”

“Huh, sounds similar to Day of the Dead. Although I would say that ours is known for holding up a shrine full of offerings for our loved ones. It’s a big part of my culture, celebrating both life and honoring death throughout a couple of days. Some places may hold festivals, colorful and quite breathtaking, but my family always made it a somewhat private celebration.”

“How so?”

“We focused more on the shrine than going to the cemetery. Getting the marigolds, cooking the meals, and everything else the shrine needed. My mom always made the altar—we call it ofrenda, by the way—looked so pretty with the candlelight and my family’s pictures that I guess it just became cozy.” You shrugged, taking your mug into your hands as silence set between you too.

Nanami let the silence take over as he thought about it. Obon was something he took seriously to no one’s surprise, he lost too many people in one lifetime that the least he could do for them was honor them during the holiday. Though it sounded quite somber, the celebration seemed quite far from it with the way the streets would light up the night sky—and it sounded like it was the same thing with your culture. It wasn’t shying away from death like other parts of the world did, it was recognizing it as an important part of life and loving those who are not with us anymore. The idea of having more than just a week of devoting his attention and time towards those gone felt right to say the least. After all, he would be a bad boyfriend if he didn’t take the chance to learn about your culture, right?

Thus, October rolled around and you started gathering things for your shrine, you realized how difficult it would be now that you were living in Japan and many of the things you needed weren’t as common as they are at home. Though things like incense and candles were easy to find and other things like dishes could be improvised, you struggled to find the sugar skulls and the papel picado that were significant for your tradition. Today seemed to be another fruitless day of searching as you headed home, maybe you would have to order them online and hope for the best. You didn’t want to make do without them.

When you arrived home, you were surprised to find Nanami outside of your place, which was a sight for sore eyes that have been searching far and wide to make your shrine justice. As you walked closer to him, you noticed he had a bag on his hands, a big one by the look of it.

“Hey you.” You greeted him with a quick peck on the lips before turning to your door and opening it. “Were you waiting for a long time? You could’ve left me a text and I could’ve headed home sooner.”

“No need, I wanted to surprise you.” Nanami smiled, holding the door open now that you unlocked it so you could head in first.

“Surprise me with whatever is on that bag?” You smirked, setting your own bags on the living room where your shrine was being set up.

You had a week before the first day of day of the dead started and though you were struggling to find some things, no one could tell you you weren’t putting in the effort. When Nanami followed you to the living room, his eyes immediately fell on the shrine. Even if he has seen pictures of how ofrendas look for day of the dead, yours looked amazing in his eyes. Many pictures were already up on top of the white mantelpiece, some were old as indicated by the lack of color in them while others were much more recent. You had pictures of your first pets and of your most dear relatives on display with their favorite dishes and objects placed before each picture frame. He may not know these people and you may not be looking at him as you took out your groceries of the day, but he couldn’t help but bow before the shrine out of respect.

“You’re setting quite the bar for all the other day of the dead shrines I’ll see.” Nanami commented, walking to your side now that you were done pulling out the contents of your bag.

You looked behind him, sighing. “I’m not in love with it, my mom’s shrine is much better than this. But I suppose it’s the best I can do.” You shrugged, turning to face him. “You didn’t answer my question though.” You smirked, looking down at the bag.

Nanami smiled at you and then looked down at what you bought for the day. “I wouldn’t call it a surprise, more so as a gift to my beautiful sweetheart.” He hummed, extending the bag for you to take.

You raise a brow at him as you take the bag, which was quite heavy. As soon as you opened it, your eyes widened as they shifted their focus back and forth between the bag and Nanami.

“How did you get these?” This bag was filled with the things you were struggling to find the most. Sugar skulls, papel picado, and what seemed like crafts modeled after pan de muerto. “How do you even know about these?” You were left stunned to say the least as you looked at your boyfriend with a dropped jaw.

“You accompanied me during Obon after our conversation that day even when I told you you didn’t have to.” He explained. “I wanted to help you celebrate your tradition like you helped me celebrate mine.”

Truth be told, he started researching about the day of the death since then and learned that many of the things you needed weren’t available in Japan. When he saw that you were starting to assemble your ofrenda, he ordered what knew would be difficult to find in Japan. An order that was delivered today, thus here he was today. You were always so respectful of his traditions and customs that he wanted to do this for you. Not only that, but if your traditions weren’t that different from one another, he had a feeling you would sulk over if your altar didn’t have every element that was needed.

“Honey, this is…I just don’t have words, my god. Thank you.” You said softly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace that he gladly returned, placing his arms around your waist and his face on your shoulder.

“No need to thank me, you deserve to make your ofrenda look just how you like it.” He replied, trying his best to pronounce ofrenda as best as he could. Though it wasn’t a perfect pronunciation, you didn’t care, finding his accent alone adorable.

“Now that you mention it, I do need your help to make it look how I want to.” That made Nanami pull his head off your shoulder, still keeping his arms around you, as he hummed for you to elaborate.

“If it is okay with you,” you said gently, cautiously as you bit your lip before continuing, “I would like to put Haibara in the shrine. I know how important he is to you and I want to honor him because of it.”

His heart stopped the moment you mentioned his name, taking a sharp inhale that made you loosen up your embrace around his neck. But he quickly pulled you closer to him with your head on his chest, caressing your hair softly.

“It is more than okay with me. I would be honored that you would want to do this.” He whispered against your head, pressing a kiss on the top of it.

“It’s the least I can do, love.” You whispered back, closing your eyes as you felt the contact of his lips on your head.

You had made sure to leave a space for Haibara in your altar in advance, hoping and grateful that he gave you his blessing to put his picture up. After all, you knew how much death impacted his life and work. You wanted to give him more than just Obon week to honor those that he had lost by sharing Día de Muertos with him as you celebrated the life you have spent by his side.

120 notes · View notes