#youth bee suit

[lets-try-some-writing]

idea

Considering that tfp cybertronian don't have lips like humans,to """kiss""" eachother, they basicly bonk heads together like cats with a light electric current running between them.

I LOVE THIS IDEA

I swear I've written about it before, but here I go again.

Keeping in line with my personal headcanon that touching is just a way to bond, I can see Bumblebee hurrying to bonk his helm against everyone he likes. Arcee gets one, Bulkhead had to kneel down to get one, Ratchet gets two happy bonks, Optimus gets one long bonk. The kids are even offered the bonks but Bee has to be very careful so as to not accidently hurt them. Smokey doesn't get bonks, nor does Ultra Magnus. They are too new or important for him to feel comfortable.

Arcee doesn't do helm touches. That's for sparklings and very close pairs. No instead she does leans. She will rest her helm against the leg or torso of those she likes. No hugs here. Just a light touch. She's a tad too short for most other interaction anyway.

Bulkhead is very gentle with everyone he does helm touches with. He doesn't touch Ratchet with a ten foot pole and he is VERY conservative with the touches he offers Optimus. The Prime will get light touches like the ones Arcee offers. Bumblebee often gets full blown helm touches. Arcee doesn't like getting helm touches so Bulkhead instead touches her back whenever he can. Wheeljack though? Whenever he's at base Bulkhead and Wheeljack will butt helms like rams. He might pat Magnus's shoulder, but that's all. Smokey gets no helm touches, but shoulder touches are acceptable.

Ratchet isn't particularly stingy about touching. He's a medic after all. It is literally his job to stick his digits everywhere. But when he's feeling particularly touchy he will offer helm touches to Bumblebee and Optimus exclusively. He knows them the best and so is far more comfortable touching them. Bulkhead and Arcee get back touches and in Bulkhead's case, hip and torso touches as well. Ultra Magnus is in a similar boat. Smokescreen is too new for serious touching, but Ratchet is willing to throw him a bone due to his youth and will give him back touches as well when he's feeling down.

Technically the rules state that it is heretical for anyone to touch the Prime without going through various rituals, but Optimus gave everyone the green light so now he will go about touching his team whenever he feels like it. Helm bonks go for whoever he trusts and is comfortable with it. Back, arm, and pretty much anywhere else touches go for the rest of the team. Smokescreen never emotionally recovered when Optimus spontaneously decided he trusted Smokescreen enough for the rookie to get touches.

Ultra Magnus will only touch his Wreckers, Ratchet, and Optimus. He may give Bee a few touches, but its RARE. He will touch helms with Optimus and Bulkhead, even Wheeljack eventually. It is all a matter of trust, one which he first engaged in begrudgingly but now secretly really enjoys.

Smokescreen both REALLY wants touches but also isn't entirely sure about what to do. Standard dictates that touches are reserved for close companions. But the war meant that the usual time it takes for trust to build has significantly shortened. He spent several weeks totally touch starved until Bulkhead accepted him first. The rest of the team followed suit and poor Smokescreen has never gotten so much physical affection in his life.

Touching reaffirms bonds. There is nothing weird about it. The whole process is just to solidify companionship. Despite that eventually being explained to the humans, they will never not blush when the team will nonchalantly stick their servos in places humans would see as being very reserved. Arcee is the worst offender in their eyes since she is often too short to reach anything except the legs and crotch of taller bots.

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Homecoming Daydream

Summary: "So gorgeous. The prettiest angel for me. I can’t believe this is happening. Is this happening? I think I’m gonna cry. Am I crying? I can’t believe she’s marrying me. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch who’s ever lived."

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader.

Genre: Romance, fluff and smut.

Author's note: This is a multiple-chapter Toto x Reader fanfic. Noted that English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes.

Part 2: Homecoming Daydream

A small playlist to listen to while reading this. Hope you guys will enjoy this just as much as myself!

Toto blinked slowly as the sunlight hit his face. It didn’t burn down like before. During the early afternoon, the light had taken on a softer glow, bathing everything in delicate golden hues. It was almost time, but Toto was getting a little impatient. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Then he felt a hand patting him on the back.

“It’s gonna be alright, Wolff.”

“I know Lewis. Yet, I still doubt it. When life is too good there will always be something unexpected in the foreseeable future.” 

Toto sighed. 

“You’re worried too much! Not with the whole being selfish story again.”

“You don’t know it, Lew. She is still in her fruitful youth, she has a whole future ahead. What she really needs is to be with someone her age, someone to grow old with her, to be with her in this lifetime, to hold her hand as her best friend and soulmate, not someone who is just 1 year younger than her dad. I don’t even understand why did she choose to be with me in the first place not to mention accept my proposal. I’m scared Lew! What if she’s going to change her mind?”

“Don’t be scared. You don’t see the way she looks at you, do you? That woman is head over heels for you, as you for her. I don’t see why you shouldn’t be a little selfish now.“

Toto looked at his best man with a frown. 

„You really think so?“

„I do.“

They were quiet for a long minute before Lewis cleared his throat and nodded at the clock on the wall. 

„Better get ready, Toto. It’s almost time.“

„Yeah.“

Toto took a deep breath and ran his fingers over the material in front of him. The new suit. It had been a while. With a determined nod, he pulled it out of the bag and put it on. The dark fabric felt heavy and form-fitting, but not in a bad way. He tugged the suit into place and turned to face his friend.

„How do I look?” Lewis rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Like an old man.”

“Thanks. Should have chosen George or Nico to be my best man today.” He joked.

“Shut up, Wolff. You did not say that.” Lewis rolled his eyes. 

Toto nodded and took one last look in the mirror. He barely recognised the man in reflection. He’d gotten much older, of course, but still quite young fit for a man his age. Taking a deep breath, he smoothed out the suit and turned back around. 

“You sure you got the rings? Not Roscoe has it, right?”

Y/n chuckled quietly as everyone around her broke out in nervous chatter at the announcement of the time, shuffling around the room in a sudden frenzy. Her auntie was the worst, trading in her champagne glass for flowers, running to the other side of the room, before putting down the flowers again and downing her champagne in one go. 

​​„Are you okay, Aunt Lana?“ Y/n asked from her chair by the window. She had wisely chosen that spot to stay out of everyone’s way.

„Am I okay? I’m a nervous wreck. Are you okay, honey bee? You’re the one getting married today.“

„I know.“

„Then why are you so… so calm?“ 

Y/n shrugged and smiled to herself.

„I don’t know. I just… there’s nothing to be nervous about. I love him. I know that I want to be with him for the rest of my life.“

Her aunt sighed and gave her a warm smile. Then she abandoned her drink to embrace her niece in soft arms and a cloud of familiar bergamot perfume. 

„Oh, honey bee. I’m so happy for you.“

Y/n returned the hug with a chuckle. 

„Thanks, Aunt Lana. I’m happy too.“

When they pulled back, her aunt had tears in her eyes, which she dapped at with a tissue, careful not to smudge her make-up. Then she sighed again and laughed. 

„I still can’t believe you’re marrying an Austrian. And this Austrian, no less. I guess we let you watch too many Hollywood movies when you were younger.“

Y/n grinned and pinched her aunt playfully on the arm.

„Probably.“

„Before I forget, I brought this for you, honey bee. It was your grandmother’s and I wanted to give it to you for the ceremony. You know, something old, something borrowed and…“

„…something blue“, Y/n murmured softly, incredibly touched by the sweet gesture. „I didn’t know people actually did that.“

Aunt Lana shrugged and grinned, as she clasped the bracelet around Y/n’s wrist.

„Can’t hurt, can it? Plus it’ll look great with your dress.“

They hugged again.

“I love you, Aunt Lana. You have always been there for me, even when no one really wanted me in the first place, not even my mom. Thank you, for being my mom, and my best friend for all those years.”

„I know, I love you too and I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Except for now, because we’re going to go downstairs and make sure your husband-to-be doesn’t tear down the building, waiting for you.“

With that the bridal team got to work, helping Y/n into her wedding gown. A simple, but elegant square-neck silk dress that fit her like a glove. The girls from the make-up team had helped her with the hair and make-up before, but she had kept it light on purpose. It was still late summer in the south of France and she didn’t want to sweat through layers of foundation on her skin. 

„You look incredible. Your husband is going to drop dead, Y/n.“ her best friend said. 

“I certainly hope not. Still need him to stay alive for a while longer.”

“Either way. It’s time to finally make an honest woman out of you.”

Toto took a deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time today as he looked around, filling his lungs with the warm summer air that reminded him so much of the very first time he’d been here. The backyard of the chateau looked beautiful and decorated with lots of greeneries, roses and hydrangeas, her favourite flowers, of course. 

And after today, he would finally be her husband. With barely contained excitement, he hoped wasn’t entirely obvious to everyone around him, he took his place at the front of the altar. Fred grinned at him as he approached. They’d asked him to officiate the wedding and Fred had jumped at the opportunity, without hesitation. 

„Well well well, if it isn’t the blushing groom to be. How are you holding up, old man?“

“Clearly, I’m not the only old man here today.” Toto rolled his eyes but grinned.

“Never been better.” He added. 

„No cold feet?“

„None.“

„Good. Although maybe you could use a little cooling off since you barely made it through one night without your woman.“

Lewis snorted as he took his place as best man next to Toto, who turned pink all the way up to his ears.

„I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really? So who did we have to hunt down last night for a little rendezvous with Y/n? FYI, Sebastian was going to report a missing case last night when we went to check on you.” 

Luckily Fred spoke low enough now that the guests were gathering. 

Toto cleared his throat and took another breath. Everything is gonna be alright. From one side of the garden, the full notes of the soft melody of “Lover” filled the air. (Who can possibly say no to “Lover” by TS in a wedding)

At that moment, he caught sight of the love of his life. Walking down the aisle, dressed all in white. Just for him. 

Christ. Toto let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sent God all the best whispers despite not fully being a Christian himself. 

He’d impatiently waited for this day for months on end, even pictured this very moment countless times. Still, the image hit him with the force of a semi-truck to the chest. Toto was surprised he didn’t collapse where he stood. He must’ve at least swayed a bit, because he could feel Lewis’ hand on his shoulder steadying him. But despite his body’s wavering, he couldn’t tear his eyes off Y/n. Not even when he heard a low whistle of appreciation behind him. His brain had gone into shock, only able to form one single thought at a time. 

So gorgeous.

The prettiest angel for me. 

I can’t believe this is happening. Is this happening?

I think I’m gonna cry. Am I crying?

I can’t believe she’s marrying me. 

I’m the luckiest son of a bitch who’s ever lived.

The words, though swirling within his mind, failed to reflect the intensity of his emotions. The love he felt wasn't just confined to his heart; it permeated every fibre of his being, almost as if it were ingrained in his very essence. It lay dormant, awaiting the moment when he would finally encounter her, at which point it would awaken and alter the course of his life forever.

This affection transcended mere sentiment; it was a powerful force, an undeniable truth coursing through his veins with each heartbeat. He sensed it in the tightening of his chest upon her entry, almost so much that he felt like his chest was going to explode. This was the moment that he swore he would treasure it for this lifetime. Hell, he will even have it imprinted in his mind for the next life, even. 

And just like that, she suddenly stood in front of him, glowing and happy, looking so radiant, it was almost like staring directly into the sun – if that were a pleasant activity. Toto blinked, against his will, and once again noticed the moisture that escaped his eyes. He wiped at his face absent-mindedly, causing a chuckle to bubble up from Y/n’s chest, shaking her body with laughter as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

„Hey“, he whispered hoarsely, reaching out for her.

„Hi“, she whispered back, placing her warm hand in his. 

Finally.

[flightfoot]

Miraculous Enemies AU fanfic recs

So I was just thinking about one of my favorite Miraculous tropes, enemies au. Whether it's Marinette getting the wrong idea about Adrien from the beginning of school, or Chat being cajoled into working for his father, I adore most fics with these tropes, and I'm betting that a lot of other people do as well, so here's a list of some good ones for people to peruse!

Note: I am only listing fics that are currently completed, so you don't have to fear any of these being abandoned. They are in no particular order (or rather, they're in the order in which I was able to track them down in for this list).

cruel youth by @anyxnka

Two teenagers are chosen to wield miraculouses. Only one becomes a superhero. Weeks later, Ladybug’s lucky charm won’t stop spitting out cats.

---

i have found someone (like a nomad finds a home) by @hanaasbananas

After Stoneheart, Gabriel figured out who Chat Noir was, and forced him to work for him, rather than with Ladybug. Years later, Adrien is miserable until one night, he meets Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

---

Unstuck by @ominousunflower

Chat Noir, notorious supervillain of Paris, experiences a wardrobe malfunction in the best and worst possible place: Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. Heart pounding, Chat pins Marinette’s wrists to the balcony. She stares up at him, her blue eyes kaleidoscopic from the lights hanging overhead, her features twisted into a scowl. “Why are you trying to take my Miraculous?” Chat hisses. “Because—you—I—” Marinette splutters, her eyes dipping down below Chat’s face. “Why is your suit unzipped?” “I—well…” Chat sighs. “My zipper got stuck.”

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every Miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace. Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most. Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

---

with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask. The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

---

Nothing Else Matters by LiquefiedStars

Marinette couldn’t figure out Chat Noir. He was supposed to be her partner, but instead ended up working for Hawk Moth. Still, her heart betrayed her and when a strong connection forms between them, Ladybug goes to Chat looking for answers, finding out more than she bargained for.

---

home is where the fight is by @rosie-b

Nadja Chamack’s voice greeted Adrien as he sat up straight, wiping his clammy hands on his pants and ignoring the black kwami floating by his shoulder. “—shocked to see our heroine fall in battle today, taking a direct hit from the akuma just as she detransformed. Parisians are torn between blaming Hawk Moth and Cat Walker for their roles in this tragedy, which ultimately revealed the civilian identity of Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien turned off the TV and lowered his head as his vision blurred. Written for Ladrien June Day 7: Injured

---

The Great War by icebelle24

'And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt Telling me to punish you for things you never did So I justified it' The unthinkable happens, and suddenly, Chat Noir’s allegiances change. Now Ladybug stands on the opposite side of the battlefield from the boy who was once her partner, left alone to make sense of an impossible situation. At least she still has Adrien to give her hope. Or maybe this war is not entirely what it seems.

---

Miss Dial by @mysticraven20

Adrien Agreste has always considered Marinette Dupain-Cheng entertaining. Whether it was the endless back and forth of their banter, the clumsiness he found so cute or the fact her anger levels could go from 1-100 in a mere millisecond; he always found there was something about her... if only he could get to know her better. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always considered Adrien Agreste a pompous, arrogant asshole. From his constant teasing of her, to the obnoxious laugh at her discomfort and the way he could anger her quicker than any other human being; she knew she hated Adrien Agreste with all she was worth. But what happens when Adrien accidentally sends the wrong text to the wrong person and a new friendship blossoms - a friendship deeper than either have ever known? Will Marinette choose to stay faithful to the budding relationship with the boy on the other side of the phone? Or will a new job with an old foe fill the loneliness in her heart?

---

call it even by @anna-scribbles and @sha-nwa

After a year of dating, there is one thing Marinette knows for certain: it's her and Adrien against the world. Through it all, Adrien is kind, patient, and endlessly understanding—even as she tries her best to keep her secret superhero identity hidden from him along with the rest of the world. Nothing could ruin it, not even the supervillains of Paris: Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. (adrinette dating // ladynoir enemies au)

---

oh, look, there you go with hope again by @ladyofthenoodle

After the defeat of Hawkmoth and his accomplice, Chat Noir, Marinette is ready to return to her normal life, but she can't escape Adrien Agreste, who was sentenced to a fate many consider worse than prison: public school. Specifically, her public school. Still, that doesn't mean she has to interact with him, does it? Except, if she doesn't... who will?

---

Redemption by JamieHasCatEyes

Papillon has been defeated and imprisoned, but his accomplice, Chat Noir, was given a second chance. Marinette's time as Ladybug may be over, but she still has work to do if she wants to help Adrien reintegrate back into society.

---

The Son Of My Enemy by Saccha

Cat Noir never wanted to be a villain, but he doesn't have a choice. Ladybug wishes she could save him. A reverse love square, villain!Cat Noir AU.

---

metamorphosis by @peachcitt

“I was thinking about that time you hated me.” “Why?” "I don’t know." “I didn’t.” “I know.” or three years after hawkmoth's defeat, marinette is still trying to figure out her version of normal. there's also sleepovers.

---

Stealing Freedom by @rosie-b

Adrien Agreste was a good person. Marinette knew this to be true, of course; she wouldn’t be marrying him if he were some irredeemable villain. No, her fiancé was practically the opposite of evil. He cooed over babies and kittens, literally stopped to smell the roses, and always brought large bouquets of them to dates. He had trouble killing spiders and bugs, begging his partner to take on the task whenever she was around to save him. Adrien was the sweetest person Marinette knew, the most kindhearted, the most forgiving; he was almost too perfect for her sometimes. But now, Marinette knew that the same Adrien who still blushed when his fiancée kissed him was also the well-known terror of Paris, Cat Walker.

[spotlightlowlife]

Charlie and Lucifer have a disney counterpart

Ozzie and Bee too a little

There is a beloved and happily sidelined disney ruler who dispite having the occasional moments of power, may well be a keen candidate for 'all the fun and none of the responsibility' personified.

Who is none other than......

The Sultan of Aladdin.

Think about it and if you're not all to familiar, know that the sultan is a friendly, goofy, cute, supportive loving little dad

who doesn't want to 'work'. By work, I mean the dirty work that goes into being a leader. Those tough decisions that will undoubtedly be unpopular among some.

This guy leads a nation, yet right from the start, the moment Jafar, the villain, his adviser, shows up with work, the jolly sultan shows the exasperation of a child being asked about their homework.

Though when it comes to going along with his teenage daughter wishes, sweet and idealistic as they are but realistically would have repercussions, he's down for it, because his daughter is his princess and her happiness is his happiness, end of story, everyone is happy.

He was clearly born into power.

Who was born or spawned into power?

Lucifer.

Someone who fell into his own dimension where his mysterious, probably problematic estrained wife who married into power, thrives or thrived. He is pride, the leader of 7 sins, who runs the pride ring but dies he really? He is shown to have no pride but it's OK because he's depressed.

Lucifer is a cute, silly little dad whose daughter is the apple of his eye and ultimately, Charlie gets what she wants, because if it makes her happy, it makes him happy.

Though like sultan he's right there as his precious daughter stands by a con artist who feels entitled to her (and the lifestyle she can provide him with clearly).

The other 6 individuals rule their sins and namesake regions, who like Lucifer are 'nice', can too be selective over what areas of their sin they choose to acknowledge.

Valentino is pretty much Ozzie's evil, very productive twin, some sinner a micro fraction of his age.

Bee could be a spokesperson for addiction awareness, but will she do more than speak, at the loved ones to pull an intervention?

All whilst being the one encouraging the overindulgence.

Let us not forget two small time demons who link both Ozzie of lust and Bee of gluttony together. Substance addicted Barbiewire and Verosika. We may not have seen a lot of them but like Valentino, they achieved plenty.

Barbie can travel freely to earth using one if Ozzie's crystals in order to smuggle hard d rugs. Job made easier by seducing a teenager.

Non-con welcoming Verosika travelled to earth to influence a load of youths with her team of fellow sexdemons.

She also bough beeljuice along with her which caused a massive scene.

Who will regulate such frowned upon actions?

Now back to new leader and leading character of her series, Charlie.

Like sultan, Charlie has help

in the form of someone she atleast knew to be sinister when she took him on. Someone who hardly hides his much they want what their boss has. That someone ofcourse being Alastor

who like Jafar would be of a lower social class, work hard, gain power and influence and be willing to scheme and sleaze his way into that powerful family.

Like sultan, Charlie is happy, nice, silly, dismissive to what it doesn't suit her to address, irresponsible, is being carried along in leadership

and is quick to see everyone as wonderful and equal without stopping to think that those who sit at the top may do something about such pushes.

Aladdin gets away with it being a family film where we follow the Alastor/Aladdin character in getting what they want, but Hazbin and Helluva, hopefully time will tackle some holes.

[the-mortuary-witch]

DEITY MASTERLIST (PART ONE)

THIS IS A VERY LONG POST, AND EVERYTHING IS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER.

🌊 Ægir

God of: personification of the lcean, brewing, the sea.

Culture: Norse

Symbols: aegishjalmur and laguz rune

Plants: oak, polybody, and rose.

Animals: dolphins, whales and other sea creatures

Colours: blue, green, turquoise and other sea-like shades

Tarot: King of Cups

Offerings: singing sea shanties, seashells and pearls, cleaning up shores and the oceans, bread, sea glass, a bowl of salt water with food dropped into it, Anything related to the sea. Do not offer most beers as he does not like the modern chemical-filled ales, homebrew or local brew beer is better. 

💕 Aengus Og

God of: youth, love, poetic inspiration, summer, and healing

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: Venus, copper, and golden harp

Plants: basil, cinnamon, rose, jasmine, sandalwood, strawberries, mistletoe, violet, birch, cherries, elder, and sycamore

Animals: swans, cats, doves, and sparrows

Colours: green, pink, and red

Tarot: The Lovers, Justice, and The World

Offerings: red roses, strawberries, cake, chocolate, honey, wine, cherries, music, and art.

🧚 Aine

Goddess of: summer, wealth, sovereignty, love, fertility, protection, wealth, agriculture, the sun and moon, and Queen of the faeries

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: silver and white Items, meadowsweet, the moon, and midsummer

Plants: angelica, blackberry, cowslip, elder, orchid, fennel, flax, garlic, mugwort, nettle, oak, hawthorn, mistletoe, alfalfa, ash, agrimony, birch, broom, holly, lavender, meadow-sweet, and gorse.

Animals: red mare, horse, rabbit, swan, cattle, and bees

Colours: red, gold, green, blue, and yan

Tarot: The Sun, Suit of Wands, and Queen of Pentacles

Offerings: milk, bread, home-grown produce, cream, fire and candles, sunflowers, yellow glowers, honey, summer fruits, oranges, and bee-related Items.

⛅ Amaterasu

Goddess of: the sun and the universe

Culture: Japanese

Symbols: mirror, jewel, sword, and bow and arrow

Plants: chrysanthemum, cryptomeria, carnation, chamomile, juniper, marigold, rosemary, and sunflower

Animals: dragon-fox, horse, rooster, and wolf

Colours: yellow, gold, red, and orange

Tarot: The Sun and The World

Offerings: rice crackers, cooked rice, origami figures, rice candy, brightly-coloured Japanese food, and silk and other fabrics.

💃 Ame-no-uzume

Goddess of: dawn, mirth, meditation, revelry, dance, fertility, and the arts

Culture: Japanese

Symbols: antique Items and fans

Plants: moss and sakaki 

Animals: fox

Colours: pink, red, white, and yellow

Tarot: Three of Cups and Suit of Cups

Offerings: dancing, bells, silk ribbons, rice cakes, and dake.

⚰️ Anubis

God of: the dead, mummification, embalming, the afterlife, and tombs

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: crook and flail, and mummy gauze

Plants: star anise, benzoin, cloves, cardamom, frankincense, myrrh, rosemary, cypress, and cedarwood

Animals: jackal

Colours: black, green, red, and gold

Tarot: Death

Offerings: cool water, strong liquor like rum, spicy foods, dark and bitter chocolate, strong incense, cypress oil, locks and keys, honour the dead and your ancestors, leave flowers on graves, support orphans and the homeless, and act as a guide for someone.

💘 Aphrodite

Goddess of: love, beauty, and fertility

Culture: Greek and Roman

Symbols: rose, pearl, mirror, girdle, anemone, lettuce, narcissus seashells, scallop shells, Venus, golden apples, the number 5, and mirrors

Plants: apple, linden tree, myrtle, pomegranate, myrrh, poppies, lettuce, rose, quince, ash, poplar, anemone, and artichokes

Animals: swans, dolphins, doves, sparrows, bees, and goats

Colours: red, pink, violet, silver, aqua, sea foam, and light blue

Tarot: The Empress, The Lovers, The Star, and The Suit of Cups

Offerings: roses, chocolate, apples, jewelry, beauty products, seashells, olive oil, honey, wine, cinnamon, art and music, mirrors, and rose quartz.

☀️ Apollo

God of: the Sun, prophecy, oracles, light, music, the arts, song, poetry, healing, medicine, plague, disease, protection of the youth, knowledge, and herds

Culture: Greek

Symbols: lyre, laurel wreath, silver bow and arrows, tripod, the Sun, and Sunday

Plants: laurel, larkspur, cypress, apple trees, palm trees, and hyacinthus

Animals: swan, raven, tortoise, serpent, wolf, dolphin, and mouse

Colours: gold, yellow, orange, silver, blue, and white

Tarot: The Sun, The Chariot, Strength, and Temperance

Offerings: red wine, olive oil, sun water, citrus fruits, honey, golden objects, feathers, lamb or goat meat, cheese, bread, sunflowers, laurel wreaths, and aloe vera.

🐕 Arawn 

God of: Ruler of Annwn the Celtic Otherworld, leader of the wild hunt, death, the Underworld, and justice

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: the Hounds of Arawn, cauldron, and samhain

Plants: reeds, cedar, cypress, ivy, honeysuckle, and sage

Animals: hounds and pigs

Colours: red, black, white, brown, green, gold, and grey

Tarot: Suit of Pentacles and King of Pentacles

Offerings: game birds such as duck or turkey, bread, honey, milk, mead, and ale.

⚔️ Ares

God of: war, courage, and battle

Culture: Greek

Symbols: sword, shield, spear, helmet, and iron

Plants: thorns, peppers, chilli, and garlic

Animals: serpents, vultures, woodpeckers, horses, and dogs

Colours: red, purple, and black

Tarot: The Emperor, The Chariot, The Tower, Suit of Wands, and King of Wands

Offerings: dark wine, whiskey, spicy foods, coffee, water, olive oil, red meats, frankincense, weapons, and learn self defence.

🌌 Arianrhod

Goddess of: fertility, fate, reincarnation, beauty, and difficulties

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: silver wheel, full moon, weaving tools, the zodiac, and Corona Borealis

Plants: ivy, lavender, rosemary, cedar, and pine

Animals: spiders, owls, and wolves

Colours: silver, white, green, blue, and purple

Tarot: The Star, The Moon, and Wheel of Fortune

Offerings: silver coins, white candles, wheat, fruits, home-cooked meals, salads, wine, water, hot teas, smoothies, and study the constellations and the zodiac.

🏹 Artemis

Goddess of: the hunt, wild animals, wilderness, childbirth, girls, chastity, archery, disease, and plague

Culture: Greek

Symbols: bow and arrow, quiver, hunting spears, animal pelts, lyre, torches, and the moon

Plants: cypress, walnut, amaranth, almond, daisy, willow, wormwood, fir, pine, thistle, honeysuckle, bay laurel, artemisia, fig, and oak

Animals: stag, deer, dog, bear, boar, quail, guineafowls, bee, and all wild animals

Colours: white, silver, gold, yellow, green, and blue

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Hanged Man, Temperance, The Moon, Queen of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, and Page of Wands

Offerings: red wine, olive oil, honey, water, almonds, walnuts, honeycakes, fruit, artemisia plants, arrows, dance, cypress, pine cones and branches, cider, game meat, protect nature and wildlife, always help animals and women in need, go hiking, research native plants and animals, and follow the moon phases and work with them.

❤️‍🔥 Astarte

Goddess of: love, sexuality, war, hunting, and power

Culture: Canaanite 

Symbols: chariot and Venus

Plants: lilies and coriander

Animals: lion, horse, dove, and sphinx

Colours: red and white

Tarot: The Empress and The Chariot

Offerings: lilies, roses, sweet cakes, honey, henna tattoos, and clothing stained with menstrual blood.

⚖️ Athena

Goddess of: wisdom, handicraft, and strategic warfare

Culture: Greek

Symbols: aegis, Gorgon’s Head, spear, and helmet

Plants: olive tree, ivy, cypress, and cornel tree

Animals: owl, snake, rooster, crow, and spider

Colours: blue, grey, white, yellow, and silver

Tarot: Justice, The High Priestess, and The Emperor

Offerings: olive oil, honey, wine, bread, olives, pears, olive tree leaves or branches, your handicrafts, owl feathers, snake skins, and weapons.

🐐 Baphomet

God/Goddess of: sexuality, demonic forces, wisdom, nature, balance, darkness, and pride

Culture: Demonic

Symbols: pentagram, head of a goat, human body with an animal head, pentacle, sword, key, male and female, and the words "as above so below"

Plants: rosemary, lilacs, irises, lavender, aconitum napellus, black walnut, and cacao

Animals: black goats, snakes, wolves, ravens, dogs, oxen, and black cats

Colours: black, white, yellow, red, green, purple, gold, and dark blue

Tarot: The Chariot, The Hermit, The Empress, and The Devil

Offerings: our time, meditation, communication, carving their symbol or name into a candle, any kind of art of them, being respectful, learning about them, candles, liquor, ropes, incense: dragons blood, black musk, frankincense, etc, animal skulls, bones, horns, etc, and dark or red flowers.

🛖 Baba Yaga

Goddess of: death and rebirth, fertility, and nature 

Culture: Slavic

Symbols: knife, oven, mortar and pestle, and the Sun

Plants: poppy, black sunflower, medicinal herbs, and rye

Animals: horse, hedgehog, snake, dragon, and cat

Colours: red, black, and white

Tarot: The Devil

Offerings: lavish home-cooked meals with russian delicacies and a beautifully-set table, caravan tea, and vodka.

💡 Baldr

God of: light, joy, purity, and summer

Culture: Norse

Symbols: the Sun and Sunday

Plants: mistletoe, chamomile, daisies, white flowers, ash, marigold, and St John’s wort

Animals: songbirds

Colours: yellow, gold, and white

Tarot: The Sun, The Fool, Death, and The World

Offerings: kindness to others, chamomile tea, apple juice, mead, and lit candles.

🌺 Bast

Goddess of: home, domesticity, women’s secrets, cats, fertility, childbirth, marriage, music, magic, sex, prosperity, joy, dance, healing, and pleasure

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: basket, Ankh, the Sun and Moon, and perfume jar

Plants: catnip, vervain, cinnamon, and cannabis 

Animals: cat and lion

Colours: green and gold

Tarot: The Chariot, Strength, and The Sun

Offerings: perfume, salves and body scrubs, milk, meat, honey, gold items, chocolate, pastries, onions and garlic, bread, beer, tea, and taking care of cats.

🐉 Benzaiten / Benten

Goddess of: water, literature, music, wealth, femininity, fertility, dance, and love

Culture: Japanese

Symbols: Biwa, dragon, pearl, conch shell, iron, and gold

Plants: lotus, water lilies, and yellow flowers

Animals: snakes, dragons, and white snakes are her messengers

Colours: blue, silver, white, and yellow

Tarot: The Empress and The Suit of Cups

Offerings: money, water, rice, sake, gemstones, music and other creative arts, raw eggs, yellow flowers, blessed water, bath rituals, and seashells.

🧶 Berchta

Goddess of: psychopomp, spinning and weaving, abundance, and protector of women and children

Culture: Germanic

Symbols: keys, distaff, Yule, and falx

Plants: mayflowers, holly, evergreens, birch, and wild berries

Animals: goose, swan, goat, cricket, owl, and fox

Colours: blue, white, red, and gold

Tarot: Death

Offerings: herring, dumplings, alcoholic beverages like schnapps.

📓 Bragi

God of: poetry and eloquence

Culture: Norse

Symbols: harp and book

Plants: beech, fern, and lily of the valley

Animals: chickadee

Colours: orange and gold

Tarot: The Magician and The Hermit

Offerings: mead, poetry, and beautiful writing.

🍀 Brigid

Goddess of: spring, fertility, family, the hearth, childbirth, fire, blacksmiths,

scholars, physicians, prophets, healing, poetry, occult knowledge, and justice

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: Brigid’s Cross, candles, triquetra, faeries, four leaf clovers, cauldron, chalice, corn dolly, anvil, hammer, poetry, forges, hearths, and wells and rock formations

Plants: cinnamon, chamomile, blackberry, hawthorn, basil, mugwort, apple, heather, dandelion, snowdrop, willow, oak, shamrock, crocus, trillium, corn, lavender, and sage

Animals: snakes, sheep, cows, bees, owls, and hibernating animals

Colours: green, red, white, gold, and blue

Tarot: The Hierophant, The Lovers, Strength, The Hermit, The Sun, and Suit of Wands

Offerings: blackberries, milk, bread, herbal teas, heather, Brigid’s Cross, beer, apple cider, honey, baked goods, corn dollies, sheep’s wool products, jewelry or metal items, eggs, and cakes left on the windowsill at Imbolc.

❄️ Cailleach

Goddess of: winter, wind, the cold, creation, and transformation

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: hammers, hills, mountains, skulls, snow, wands, and waning moons

Plants: clove, lavender, apple, hazelnut, turnip, mugwort, pansy, patchouli, poppy, rose, rue, tansy, St John's wort, Witch hazel, woodruff, yarrow, elder trees, elm, pine, yew, gorse, holly, and snapdragon 

Animals: bat, cattle, deer, fish, goat, mouse, owl, raven, reindeer, sheep, spider, pig, and wolf

Colours: black, blue, brown, grey, silver, white, and yellow

Tarot: Death, The Moon, and The Hermit

Offerings: pebbles, hag stones, shells, feathers, and boiled sweets.

🌲 Cernunnos

God of: forests, wild animals, finances, the Underworld, death, hunting, balance, grounding and healing, transitioning into the afterlife, and fertility

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: horns, a torc, gold coins, and serpents

Plants: ash, bayberry, chamomile, cedar, cinnamon, heliotrope, holly, ivy, lavender, juniper, myrrh, nettle, oak, patchouli, pine, sandalwood, sunflower, vine, and yarrow

Animals: stags, elk, goats, deer, bulls, horses, ram horned snakes, snakes, boars, owls, hawks, and ravens

Colours: yellow, gold, forest greens, silver, and black

Tarot: The Lovers, The World, and King of Pentacles

Offerings: dancing, venison, cooked meats (ethically sourced), roses, sunflowers, lavender, wildflowers, juniper bark and berries, oak wood carvings, green or gold candles, cinnamon, cloves, pine scents, pelts (ethically sourced), feathers, bones, forest moss, antlers, horns, pine cones, gold coins, daggers, poetry art, and Celtic music.

🌑 Cerridwen

Goddess of: the Moon, luck, poetry, change, rebirth, transformation, the Underworld, death, fertility, inspiration, magic, and knowledge

Culture: Welsh

Symbols: cauldron, dark Moon, lunar cycles, and caves

Plants: corn, grain, vervain, acorns, apple, oak, and hazel

Animals: white pig, greyhound, crow, hen, hare, otter, and hawk

Colours: silver, purple, black, grey, and green

Tarot: The Moon, Death, The Magician, and Suit of Cups

Offerings: pork, bread, milk, water, wheat, white and green candles, barley, rice, peanuts, poppy or sunflower seeds, vervain, and grain-based products.

✨ Circe

Goddess of: sorcery 

Culture: Greek

Symbols: cup, loon, wand, and masks

Plants: hallucinogenic herbs and fungi, wheat, moly, and magical herbs 

Animals: pig, lion, wolf, hawk, and beasts in general

Colours: gold, purple, silver, and red

Tarot: Queen of Cups and The Magician

Offerings: barley, wine, honey, meat, bread, weaving, and divination.

Danu

Goddess of: Earth-mother, fertility, wisdom, wind, and water

Culture: Celtic

Symbols: crowns, keys, wells, cauldron full of water, rivers, Celtic Tree of Life, and mother aspect of the triple Goddess

Plants: oak and water lily

Animals: fish, horses, seagulls, salmon, and snakes 

Colours: blue, white, silver, and green

Tarot: The Empress and Strength

Offerings: wine, mead, ale, freshwater, and watering plants.

🔥 Dazbog 

God of: the Sun, fortune, wealth, light, fertility, fire, destiny, and justice

Culture: Slavic

Symbols: kolovrat

Plants: sunflowers, marigold, calendula, chamomile, angelica, and St John’s wort 

Animals: wolf, horse, goose, duck, and swan

Colours: white, gold, and red

Tarot: The Sun, Suit of Wands, and King of Wands

Offerings: bread, salt, eggs, pancakes, and bonfire.

🌾 Demeter

Goddess of: agriculture, harvest, fertility, and motherhood

Culture: Greek

Symbols: wheat, torches, and cornucopia

Plants: wheat, barley, mint, and poppy

Animals: snake, pig, gecko, dove, crane, screech owl, and grasshopper

 

Colours: gold, green, and brown

Tarot: The High Priestess and The World

Offerings: olive oil, water, fruit, honey, milk, grains, bread, freshly harvested goods, and water.

🍷 Dionysus

God of: wine, drunkenness, parties, wilderness, vegetation, fertility, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, theatre, and LGBT+ Community 

Culture: Greek

Symbols: thyrsos, ivy crown, and Grapevine 

Plants: grape, ivy, cinnamon, silver fir, bindweed, and figs

Animals leopard, goat, donkey, lion, snake, bull, and panther

Colours: red, purple, green, burgundy, and gold

Tarot: The Hanged Man, The Hierophant, The Devil, The Fool, and The Lovers

Offerings: wine, olive oil, fruit, water, honey, meats, wheat, barley, pinecone, ivy leaves, goblets, masks, and alcoholic beverages.

⚕️ Eir

Goddess of: healing and medicine

Culture: Norse

Symbols: copper, mortar and pestle, and sauna 

Plants: medicinal herbs

Colours: red

Tarot: The Hanged Man

Offerings: healing spells, learning first aid, medicinal herbs, and first aid items.

🎣 Enki

God of: freshwater, wisdom, knowledge, magic, crafts, healing, fertility, creation, and the arts

Culture: Mesopotamian

Symbols: goatfish

Plants: thyme, chamomile, reeds, and cattails

Animals: goat, fish, chimera, robin, and cow

Colours: gold, blue, white, and silver

Tarot: The Hanged Man, The Hierophant, The Devil, The Fool, and The Lovers

Offerings: beer, eggs, fruit, vegetarian foods, myrrh, thyme, chamomile, wildflowers, fish, water, wine, silver or copper jewelry, and feathers.

💐 Eostre 

Goddess of: spring and dawn

Culture: Germanic

Symbols: painted eggs

Plants: crocus, daffodil, primrose, and violet

Animals: rabbit, serpent, and dragon

Colours: green, yellow, and purple

Tarot: Queen of Pentacles

Offerings: decorating eggs, flowers, hot cross buns, pastries, and mead.

💀 Ereshkigal

Goddess of: death and the Underworld

Culture: Mesopotamian

Symbols: wood, rivers, boats, and lapis lazuli

Plants: pomegranate, grains, reeds, hemp, cedar, cypress, lotus, and monkshood

Animals: lion, owl, serpent, scorpion, owl, and sheep

Colours: silver, gold, red, and purple

Tarot: Death and The High Priestess

Offerings: fasting, bread, water, pomegranate juice, blackberries, blueberries, lamb or goat meat, lobster and mussels, nutmeg, garlic, poppy seeds, animal bones, gold or silver jewelry, black crystals, and Ornate scepters with wood and animal bones.

🧵 Frau Holda

Goddess of: fibre Arts, winter, protector of children and women, leader of the wild hunt, and Witchcraft

Culture: Germanic

Symbols: the Winter Solstice, pools, and Wells

Plants: holly, elder, juniper, mugwort, flax, and sorcerer’s violet 

Animals: wolf and rabbit

Colours: blue and white

Tarot: The Empress, The High Priestess, and Death

Offerings: juniper berries, wine, cider, mead, cakes, music, dancing, and knot magick.

🐈 Freya / Freyja

Goddess of: love, beauty, fertility, sex, war, battle, gold, and sorcery

Culture: Norse

Symbols: her chariot pulled by cats, Brisíngamen necklace, the boar Hildisvíni, and cloak of Feathers

Plants: daisy, linden, snowdrops, lily of the valley, cowslip, columbine, pimpernel, and strawberries

Animals: horse, cat, falcon, hawk, rabbit, ladybug, oxen, swallow, and boar

Colours: gold, yellow, white, green, red, pink, and light blue

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Empress, The Lovers, The Chariot, Death, and Suit of Swords

Offerings: ale, apples, barley, honey, mead, pork, lavish jewelry and perfume, feeding stray cats, chocolate, amber, roses, cinnamon, and sweet liquors.

🐗 Freyr

God of: Peace, Fertility, Rain, Sunshine, Prosperity and Agriculture

Culture: Norse

Symbols: boar, the Sun, magical swords, phallus, and Friday

Plants: ash, lavender, catnip, nuts and cones, yew, holly, and ivy

Animals: boar, bee, and stag

Colours: gold, green, red, blue, pink, orange, and yellow

Tarot: The Lovers, The Sun, Suit of Pentacles, and King of Pentacles

Offerings: honey, grains and breads, gold, and antlers.

👰 Frigg

Goddess of: motherhood, marriage, prophecy, and fertility

Culture: Norse

Symbols: spinning wheel, silver, clouds, and mist

Plants: mistletoe, birch, fir, hawthorn, and Frigg’s grass

Animals: falcon, sheep, raven, and hawk

Colours: blue, silver, and white

Tarot: The Empress and The Lovers

Offerings: milk, mead, pastries, light fruity wine, hand-spun fibres, feathers, and soups and stews.

🪦 Hades

God of: the Underworld and wealth

Culture: Greek

Symbols: keys, chariot, helmet, Cerberus, serpent, dogs, and pomegranate

Plants: mint, white poplar, cypress, asphodel, narcissus, and pomegranate

Animals: snake, dog, sheep, cattle, screech owl, horse, black ram, bull, vulture, black cat, crow, and raven

Colours: dark blue, black, purple, dark green, bronze, gold, silver, and grey

Tarot: The Hermit, Death, Judgment, and Suit of Swords

Offerings: dark wine, whiskey, coffee, black tea, peppermint tea, dark chocolate, meat, sharp cheeses, bread, pomegranates, apples, bones, coins, keys, and crowns.

🪘 Hathor

Goddess of: the sky, women, fertility, love, the Sun, music, dance, joy, motherhood, fate, foreign lands and goods, and the afterlife

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: sun disk, mirrors, drums and sistrums, and the number 4

Plants: sycamore, myrrh tree, dates, papyrus, and henna

Animals: cow, lioness, cobra, goose, gazelle, and cat

Colours: red

Tarot: The Empress, The Lovers, Wheel of Fortune, and Suit of Cups

Offerings: figs, dates, bread, cheese, butter, wine, beer, fresh water, perfumes, and makeup

👻 Hecate / Hekate

Goddess of: Witchcraft, necromancy, ghosts, the night, boundaries, and crossroads

Culture: Greek

Symbols: paired torches, keys, crossroads, dark/triple moon, wheel, daggers, rope, dogs, serpents, knives, and Strophalos

Plants: asphodel, garlic, yew, cypress, and poisonous plants

Animals: dog, mare, serpent, cat, bats, and polecat

Colours: black, grey, silver, gold, violet, green, red, and white

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Hermit, The Moon, and Queen of Pentacles

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, fruit, honey, milk, eggs, garlic, almonds, various herbs, bones, wands, keys, a cauldron, crow feathers, pomegranates, dark chocolate, and blood.

📯 Heimdallr 

God of: watchmen of the Gods

Culture: Norse

Symbols: horn and rainbow

Plants: birch, oak, rose, verbena, and avens

Animals: rooster, horse, and ram

Colours: white and rainbow

Tarot: The Hermit

Offerings: mead, fine beer, freshwater, lamb meat, pork, and coffee.

💀 Hel

Goddess of: death and the afterlife

Culture: Norse

Symbols: skulls and bones

Plants: beech, alder, elm, ivy, juniper, willow, and yew

Animals: wolf

Colours: black and white

Tarot: Death, The Tower, and Suit of Swords

Offerings: tea, wine, apples, meat, bread, soup, dried flowers, and blood.

🌋 Hephaestus

God of: metal smithing, fire, volcanoes, craftsmanship, and technology

Culture: Greek

Symbols: hammer, tongs, and anvil

Plants: fennel

Animals: donkey, crane, and dog

Colours: gold, yellow, orange, silver, grey, and red

Tarot: Judgment and Suit of Wands

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, fruit, honey, bread, meat, spicy things, hot beverages, and handmade metal items.

👑 Hera

Goddess of: marriage, fertility, childbirth, Kings and Empires, women, family, the sky, and the stars

Culture: Greek

Symbols: lotus-staff, throne, and diadem

Plants: pomegranate, lotus, willow, and apple

Animals: hawk, peacock, lion, cow, cuckoo, and crane

Colours: gold, silver, white, purple, blue, and green

Tarot: The Empress, The World, Suit of Cups, and Queen of Cups

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, fruit, honey, milk, grains and bread, chocolate, pomegranates, apples, white flowers, crowns, animal shells, perfume, and silver or gold jewelry.

💸 Hermes

God of: messenger of the Gods, heraldry, omens, animal husbandry, poetry and fables, trade, travel, boundaries, thieves, wit, language, education, psychopomp,

Culture: Greek

Symbols: caduceus, shepherds pipes, travellers hat, lyre, rooster, talaria, winged helmet, tortoise, and satchel or pouch Talaria, and petasos

Plants: palm tree, crocus flower, Greek strawberry trees, hydrangeas, chrysanthemum, and almond tree

Animals: hummingbirds, tortoise, hare, cattle, hawk, ram, snake, and rooster

Colours: gold, red, silver, yellow, orange, grey, and green

Tarot: Judgment, The Magician, The Fool. The Hierophant, The Hermit, The Star, and Suit of Swords

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, strawberries, foreign foods and items, honey, citrus fruits (pineapple, lemon, etc), chocolate, wheat, almonds, cinnamon, coins, dice, beer, meat, chamomile tea, bread, and milk mixed with honey.

🏠 Hestia

Goddess of: the home, the hearth, family, domesticity, and The Civic or The Sacrificial Flame

Culture: Greek

Symbols: hearth, kettle, and head veils

Plants: poppy, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow

Animals: pig, cow, donkey, and crane

Colours: gold, white, orange, red, and lavender

Tarot: Strength, The Hermit, and Queen of Wands

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, fruit, honey, milk, pork, bread, cooking herbs, tea, and candles.

🦅 Horus

God of: kingship, the sky, war, protection, and healing

Culture: Egyptian

Symbols: crown, Eye of Horus, Ankh, the Sun, and the Moon

Plants: acacia, lettuce, iris, lotus, and olive

Animals: falcon, hawk, bull, peacock, and lion

Colours: green

Tarot: The Emperor, The Hierophant, The Chariot, The Sun, Judgment, and King of Swords

Offerings: raw meat left out for hawks and falcons, bread, weaponry, water, milk, ale, wine, coffee, fruits and vegetables, figs, dates, and chocolate with nuts.

😴 Hypnos

God of: sleep, dreams, and illusions

Culture: Greek

Symbols: inverted torch

Plants: poppy and cottonwood tree

Animals: nighthawk and songbirds

Colours: black, silver, white, blue, red, and purple

Tarot: The Hierophant

Offerings: wine, olive oil, water, honey, milk, fruit, poppy seeds (and foods including them), herbal teas, sleep inducing and calming herbs, feathers, sleeping mask, and poppy flowers.

🍎 Idunn

Goddess of: spring, rejuvenation, immortality, youth, and beauty

Culture: Norse

Symbols: golden apples and ashwood box

Plants: apple blossom, birch, fir, hawthorn, mugwort, rose, and willow

Animals: songbirds

Colours: green, silver, red, and yellow

Tarot: Page of Wands, Queen of Cups, and Queen of Pentacles

Offerings: gardening, apples, homegrown fruits and vegetables (without pesticides), apple pie, and cider

💖 Inanna

Goddess of: romantic love, harmony, sex, beauty, passion, desire, fertility, victory, war, justice, and political power

Culture: Mesopotamian

Symbols: eight-pointed star, hook-shaped Knot of Reeds and Venus

Plants: lilies, narcissus, reeds, myrtle, and all sprouts

Animals: lion and dove

Colours: green, black, red, silver, and white

Tarot: The Lovers, The Hierophant, Justice, The Hanged Man and The Star

Offerings: Wine, Champagne, Lemonade, Honey, Chocolate and Pastries, Cherries, Pomegranates, Strawberries, Elegant Jewelry, Peaches, Swords and Daggers, Artwork and Poetry

🦊 Inari 

God of: rice, foxes, fertility, tea, sake, crafts, agriculture, industry, and prosperity

Culture: Japanese

Symbols: keys, wish-granting jewel, and rice

Plants: cryptomeria, cedar, pine, wheat, and rice

Animals: fox

Colours: red and white

Tarot: Suit of Pentacles

Offerings: inarizushi, rice, rice cakes, rice served with red beans, sake, incense, acts on behalf of foxes, handmade crafts, and tea.

☄️ Isis

Goddess of: magic, life, compassion, fertility, motherhood, childbirth, rebirth, devotion, royalty, knowledge, protection, abundance, healing, and the elements.

Culture: Egyptian.

Symbols: moon disk, cow horns, wings, solar disk, Ankh, and gold.

Plants: sycamore, cedar, corn, flax, wheat, barley, grapes, lotus, vervain, myrrh tree, and papyrus.

Animals: hawk, crocodile, scorpion, crab, cobra, goose, swallow, dove, vulture, and snakes in general.

Colours: yellow, silver, gold, black, red, cobalt blue, and green.

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Empress, The Lovers, Strength, The Hermit, Wheel of Fortune, Temperance, The Star, The Moon, The World, and Suit of Cups.

Offerings: milk, flowers, honey, wine, lemonade, tropical fruits (juice or whole), herbal tea, seafood, herbs (anise and nutmeg), roses, Egyptian jewelry, incense, and white candles.

🌿 Jarilo / Yarilo

God of: vegetation, fertility, spring, rebirth, sexuality, peace, and war

Culture: Slavic

Symbols: vegetation

Plants: wheat, ferns, and spring flowers

Animals: horse and white wolf

Colours: white, yellow, gold, and green

Tarot: The Sun, Strength, and Suit of Pentacles

Offerings: bread, wheat, spring flowers, and edible seeds

🌍 Jörð

Goddess of: personification of the Earth

Culture: Norse

Symbols: mountains, grandmothers, and girdle

Plants: local native plants and healing herbs

Animals: bee

Colours: green

Tarot: The World and Queen of Pentacles

Offerings: picking up litter and trash and taking care of the Earth and nature.

[smirk-mode]

Some Red Dwarf Uniform Headcanons

Series 1 is the bonafide Space Corps uniform, at least for people working in commercial branches like JMC

Series 7 Flashbacks to that hideous blue uniform are specific to Kochanski's dimension

Series 8 is what the nanobots thought would be an improvement on this design - because they also recreated the crew, the crew didn't notice any difference

As for Rimmer and Lister's 'uniform' choices

Series 1 and 2 - They're both still lost and trying to figure out how to actually cope with their situation, so Rimmer holds fast to his pre-death routines, which includes a smart uniform. Lister just stops caring, but continues wearing hawaiian shirts and London Jets shirts like he did before as a way to buck authority. These also represent him trying to keep a link to his homeland (England) and his dream of retiring in a tropical paradise (Fiji)

Rimmer in Series 3 onwards - There have always been specific uniforms for Hologrammatic crewmen to wear, however most ships don't enforce this as having an H glued to your forehead is bad enough without further 'othering' the dead. Rimmer only stops wearing his original uniform when he finally accepts his new status, with Green meaning he's a hologram purely generated by Holly, Red meaning he's operating via Light Bee (likely something the crew scavenge at some point), and Blue as we know meaning Hard Light. He sticks with the blue from thereon in (apart from his Ace Rimmer stint) as he's fairly comfortable with the uniform.

Lister in Series 3 onwards - After reasonably adjusting to his lot in life as much as he can, and accepting he'll never see England again, or see Fiji at all, he discards the last of his uniform to try and be himself and tries to return to being the wannabe arty-farty type he always wanted to be (see 17 year old Sham Glam Lister for reference), resulting in his Space Biker look. But when he actually truly adjusts to their situation he ditches the biker jacket in favour of the Ripley-esque Space Trucker boiler suit, cos it's easier for him to do repairs while wearing it compared to a heavy jacket. But after losing Krissie he returns to his Space Biker outfits, having kind of given up on improving his lot. By the later series he's wearing the biker jackets and hawaiian shirts to try and recapture his youth.

As for the cat? He makes what he can with the materials he has at his disposal and deems whatever he makes at that time to be what's in fashion.... And Kryten? Well they just kind of cannibalise body covers off the dead series 4000 mechanoids they come across (a bit morbid but probably necessary), with Lister making custom parts if needed...

[virgo-mess]

The Birds and the Bees

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Chapter List

1.Alexithymia- The Inability to Express your Feelings Parts 1 and 2

2.The Woes of Adolescence/ What the heck Happened that Summer Parts 1 and 2

3.Caught in a Summer Storm/ What the heck Happened that Christmas.

4.Summer Bluffs? Part 1

5.Disco, Strippers, and Margaritassss Part 2

6.Sleepless in a Hotel Suite Part 3

7.Shades of Pink

8.The Things I’ve Dreamed Part 1

9.Renewal Part 2

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And we've finally made it to part 2 of Chapter 2... Good grief I was hit with the most random wave of productivity. I'm making this post at 2 AM after writing for four hours. Sorry if there's any typos, this was honestly a product of me seeking comfort for my own inner turmoil and the result was FLUFFFF. So let me know what you think in the notes pleaseee, I beg. 👀

TW: Panic attacks, Kissing, and fluffffff. That's really it guys, enjoy!

The Woes of Adolescence/ What the Heck Happened That Summer Part 2

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“Yet the summer which was to change everything was coming nearer every day. When boys and girls are growing up, life can’t stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no. That is what their elders are always forgetting.”- Willa Cather

Shay’s POV

The hours ticked by as Shay and Cash rummaged through boxes full of forgotten memories and unpacked feelings. Any lingering awkwardness from Cash’s prompt proposal for Shay to move in with him was long forgotten by the time Cash slipped away to get them takeout from the Trails End Bar in town. That intimate moment of fellow feeling they had shared had done a great job at prolonging the inevitable conversation they were bound to have for the time being. They spent the rest of their cleaning sipping on glasses of red wine and reminiscing about the happy carefree days of their youth. A prospect that usually had Shay in tears of hopeless yearning was currently filled with bashful giggles, rosy cheeks, longing glances, and fluttering butterflies. Shay supposed drinking wine with Cashton Ewing was a bad idea from the get-go, she was sure the consequences of such an act would be coming back to bite her in the ass soon enough. But she couldn’t help but want to enjoy a face paced blunder with her long-time crush while she could.

“I remember this sundress; you wore it on the last day of eighth grade” Cash mused pulling Shay’s old white sundress with sunflowers stitched on the bodice from one of the boxes with a soft smile on his face. Shay eyed the dress wearily; she remembered that unguarded garment and the scarring memory attached to it very well.

“Yeah, I did…” Shay mumbled before focusing her gaze back on the TV, she’d plugged in 13 Going on 30 not too long ago. The scene of Jenna’s less than stellar thirteenth birthday party was quickly unfolding on the screen. Shay couldn’t help but think about the last day of eighth grade, the day she’d tried her best to forget. Part of the reason she latched onto 13 Going on 30 was because she saw both herself and Cash reflected in Matt and Jenna. Shay felt like the movie was the closest she’d ever get to living out a romantic fantasy with Cash. Sometimes she’d forget she was watching a movie because there was a degree of mirrored likeness between her life and the world painted on the screen, from Jenna and Matt being best friends and neighbors, to Matt taking pictures like Cash, right down to Shay’s vexatious run ins with her own personal mean girl, Opal May Stevens. Shay had her fair share of mean girls throughout their childhood, that could only be expected when you were best friends with the prettiest boy in school. None of them were ever quite as mean as Opal May Stevens however, who had seemed to make it her mission to make Shay’s life a living nightmare about a month or two into that school year. Cash never seemed to notice of course and why would he really, Shay had all but figured out he had a thing for Opal May when she turned up at the movie theater that Valentines Day, she locked herself in a bathroom stall to cry. It wasn’t the first time Shay cried over Cash and Opal May nor would it be the last or even the worst. The worst breakdown she had in relation to her first crush and her childhood bully was reserved for the last day of eighth grade….

 “You do always look great in a sundress you know that, Cherry Blossom. What happened that day anyway?” Cash’s voice lulled through the air, pulling Shay out of her dark inner ruminations quite suddenly. Shay’s green eyes strayed from the screen for a split second to see Cash’s ocean orbs gazing at her intensely.

“What?” Shay asked, her brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to recall what it was, they’d even been talking about. She’d gotten lost with the dull echoes of taunting children’s laughter reeling in the gloomy memory bank of her mind and the tiresome chanting of Opal May’s odious voice ringing in her ears. Shay felt Cash’s finger gingerly brush against her forearm, and she finally let her green eyes meet his blue ones. They gazed at her in a way that made her feel like he was trying to ground her and anchor her to him all at once. She always wondered how he could tell when she was being swept away in the murky currents of the more melodramatic waves of her angst filled musings.

“…The last day of school that year, I asked you to meet me out on the school lawn, near the gardens after school, remember? I waited for you, but you didn’t show and by the time I made it to your window it was locked, and you were hysterical…” Cash trailed, his thumb was now drawing soothing circles down the length of her arm so tenderly Shay thought her heart might burst. Shay found herself leaning towards Cash the way a moth is drawn to the light and warmth of a candle despite the way her brain was telling her it wouldn’t be a good idea. Her usual thoughts of caution were being overpowered by the shrill, odious singsong of Opal taunting “TWIRL” repeatedly.

People always talk about the prominent events in your life that change you for the better or for the worse. The ones that stick with you long after they’ve happened and even longer than you’d like them to. They’re pesky shadows that cling to your every move, tethered with you from the green cusp of adolescence to the weathered qualms of adulthood. Silently lurking, endlessly twisting, constantly weaving their influence over your unconscious thoughts and actions day in and day out.

Well, Shay’s earthshattering, life altering moment occurred on the last day of eighth grade and prompted her very first mental spiral. One that was bad enough for her mother to send her away for the summer and stick her in a therapy center in California. Of course, it was a long time coming at that point with her parent’s contentious divorce, Opal May mockingly reciting her end of the year English assignment to a group of her peers was just the final nail in the coffin that year. It only hurt all the more that the muse of that assignment was sitting right next to her now. Shay couldn’t help but assume Cash had something to do with Opal’s cruel joke to some degree…

“I didn’t show because Pete told me you wanted me to meet you by the science hall instead, remember? And I’m sure you know what happened and what Opal did, you had your fun joke let’s not rehash it.” Shay said dismissively, letting out a long sigh she busied herself rummaging through a box once more to take her mind off the memory fighting tooth and nail to free itself from the murky bank. Cash let out a sigh of his own, his fingers found their way to her thigh and resumed drawing soothing circles, but this time Shay found it more tantalizing than anything.

“Pete told you that… I never told him to tell you that Shay, I swear.” Cash’s voice was soft, but Shay could hear the overarching note of sincerity in his deep vibrato. Shay didn’t respond as her hand clutched a hard, glossy, and slightly weathered book and pulled it out of the box with a ghost of a smile on her lips. Her thumb glided down the picturesque lighthouse on the book’s cover, situated in front of a purple, pink, orange sunset.

“What’s it really matter now anyway Cashton? We can’t change the past and I don’t fancy dwelling on it all that much either.” Shay said again dismissively, her eyes were still trained on the book in her hands intently, Cash had given it to her as a gift one year. A photo guide of the most beautiful lighthouses the world had to offer because Shay loved them so much at the time. She still did, while she was living in New York she often wished the Statue of Liberty was a lighthouse instead. Shay felt Cash place a finger under her chin, gently urging her to meet his gaze and she did. Shay met his gaze with sad green eyes and a surprisingly heavy heart, despite the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach at the intimate action. She wished he would stop doing this stuff, touching her this way especially when it was clear it meant more to her than it did to him. Especially when it was clear it would always mean more to her than it did to him.

“It matters because you were a wreck that entire week Cherry Blossom, seeing you like that hurt you know. You were my best friend, you were so sad, you looked so broken, and for the first time ever I couldn’t fix it. Then you just went away for a whole summer, didn’t call, barely answered my letters, you shut me out and came back a different person Shay, that was scary” Cash admitted in a heartfelt tone, his thumb gently caressed her chin and his blue orbs bore into hers with an unreadable sort of intensity that Shay couldn’t place.

“Please don’t act like you don’t know what happened Cashton, you and Opal May spent the entire summer together while I was gone, and I know she couldn’t resist telling you about it. You didn’t miss me that much and it’s fine, really, I don’t care about things that happened when we were fourteen anymore, alright. I forgive you, let’s move on.” Shay lied, forcing a smile on her face, so she didn’t look as bitter as she felt inside. Cash’s expression hardened a bit, but his eyes looked as intense as ever before.

“Well, if you don’t care Shaylee Rose why is it you can’t tell me what happened or what happened to you that summer huh? I don’t appreciate you accusing me of doing something to intentionally hurt you, I’d never do that so would you please explain what it is you’re passive aggressively forgiving me for. Please… what did Opal do, did she hurt you?” Cash coaxed softly, Shay let out a sigh but made no effort to turn her face out of his grasp or move her body away from his tethering pull. She knew it was the wine talking for the both of them right about now, loosening their inhibitions enough to let his touches linger and to let her heart hope his touches meant more than they did.

“We need to talk about this Shaylee, I think we’d both feel better if we did…” Cash said in a gentle but serious tone, holding her gaze as his thumb trailed from her chin to her cheek. Shay let out an almost defeated sounding sigh, she knew he was right, she would feel better if she could find it in her to utter a word. She didn’t think she could, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to.

“Cashton Micheal, I don’t think I can talk about it, so can we please just keep going through this stuff… please” Shay pleaded feebly. Her panic at his prying was evident with every shaky syllable she uttered with tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over any moment. Shay inhaled sharply and tried her best to blink the tears away, but a single tear broke free, rolling down the length of her flushed cheek seemingly in slow motion. Cash’s expression softened at the sight of the lone, melancholy drop of water almost immediately.

“Alright…shhh, we don’t have to talk about it. Don’t cry it’s okay.” Cash said in a low whisper. He wiped the lone drop away with the pad of his thumb tenderly before placing a kiss where it had just been. Shay fluttered her eyes closed and let out a content sigh at the feel of his lips against her wine flushed cheek. It surprised her how delicate his lips seemed to feel in contrast to his now giant muscled appearance. The gentleness reminded her so much of the Cash Ewing she knew before things changed so dramatically between them that fateful summer. Shay opened her eyes as she felt Cash start to gently toy with the ends of her hair.

“Maybe we should call it a day for now Cherry Blossom? It’s not like your mom is going to be back anytime soon. Why don’t we head out to the beach for a bit” Cash said in a soft tone, Shay felt a pang of guilt in her chest at the obvious sadness swirling in his blue eyes. Though his fingers were still toying with the ends of her blonde hair tenderly, Shay could feel him retreating from her on an emotional level and she couldn’t help but hate herself for it. That wasn’t her intention, she craved his vulnerability more than anything but only because her vulnerability was so difficult to articulate, so hard for her to put into words. She wished it wasn’t.

“Sure, I could go for a swim right about now. Let me just put some of this away first, remember this Cashy?” Shay asked, holding up the book with a trace of a genuine smile on her lips in an attempt to snuff the rising tension in the air. Cash’s blue eyes trailed over the lighthouse on the book’s cover with an almost melancholy expression on his face. Shay wasn’t sure what came over her but before she knew it her fingers were intertwined with Cash’s once more. Much in the same way he had grabbed her hand down in the kitchen though that somehow felt like a lifetime ago with everything that had played out between the two of them since they wandered upstairs. The wine was indeed a bad idea but at least they were holding hands again, Shay knew it wasn’t much but at least it was something. Cash’s expression softened as his eyes glanced down at their laced fingers before meeting Shay’s gaze with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Of course I do Cherry Blossom, I gave you that book for your tenth birthday. You were obsessed with lighthouses back then but judging by the dust on the cover I’d say that’s been up here since you got back that summer, huh” Cash said in a tone that he clearly wanted to sound nonchalant, but Shay could tell by the way his tongue glided over his inviting lower lip, it bothered him. A soft sigh escaped Shay’s lips and she found herself tightening her grip on his large hand quite suddenly. Partly to comfort him and partly to keep him from slipping away from her again.

“It wasn’t like that Cashy, I promise. I love this book, that empty book stand on my shelf was always meant for it, but my mom couldn’t remember where she put it when we started redecorating.” Shay said sincerely, it was true after all. Her mom had misplaced it shortly after they started painting over the pink clouds on her ceiling that September and Shay hadn’t seen It since then but, she looked for it every month for a year. “I have no idea how it ended up in the attic though. I swore I put it in my closet that day we started moving things, but you know my mom. Too nosy for her own good.” Shay tacked on jokingly, Cash chuckled softly with a sheepish grin still plastered on his face, but Shay could tell his blue eyes were searching her green eyes for something.

“So, you never looked inside of it then…” Cash trailed in a way that made Shay think he knew something she didn’t. His eyes quickly darted between hers and the lighthouse situated in front of that picturesque sunset several times before settling back on her face with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

“No, why, did you put something top secret inside of it? Am I going to find the map to DeDe Green’s missing gnome collection in here or something” Shay said in a teasing tone, Cash rolled his eyes, and another sheepish chuckle escaped his lips. Shay looked over at him curiously. She wasn’t sure what to make of his sheepishness, but she could only assume the two empty bottles of white wine they’d shared was the driving force behind the emotional roller coaster they’d taken the other on in the past few hours.

“Pete and I never touched those creepy gnomes Shaylee, I assure you. I don’t know why everyone always assumes we’re behind most of Plymouth’s long-standing mysteries, if anything you and I would be the more likely culprits. We were quite impish if you recall” Cash said with amused blue eyes, now it was Shay’s turn to roll her eyes though she now found herself eyeing Cash up in a sort of bashful curiosity.

“Well, if it’s not a map, what’d you put in here Cashton Micheal?” Shay asked, eyeing him up in lighthearted suspicion through her thick lashes. Cash bit down on his lip sheepishly, drawing small circles on the back of her hand so delicately it had Shay’s stomach swirling with bashful butterflies.

“Just a love letter or two… or fifty. Didn’t you notice it was thicker than usual” Cash said nonchalantly, Shay rolled her eyes at him once more, but they were still very much amused as they gazed into his deeply.

“Fine don’t tell me, I’ll just have to look for myself then huh” Shay said pointedly arching her eyebrow at him. Cash chuckled again; his cheeks were still adorably rosy under the golden hues of afternoon summer sun streaming in through the attic’s window. Shay stared at him for a long while, just admiring how pretty he looked wrapped in golden beams of light and felt her cheeks heat up for about the millionth time today. Still, she was happy most of the intense, mildly bitter tension that hung between them had dissipated even if it wouldn’t last long.

“Why don’t you believe me when I say these things Cherry Blossom, have I ever lied to you?” Cash asked in a teasing tone of his own, but his eyes were surprisingly sincere and undoubtedly vulnerable as they stared back at her intently.

“Probably because you’re Cashton Ewing, one half of Plymouth’s dynamic joking duo” Shay said pointedly, Cash let out a long sigh and resumed toying with the ends of her blonde hair. His thumb continued drawing circles on the back of the small hand that was still intertwined with his larger one. Shay inhaled sharply, having the sudden feeling Cash was going to kiss her though she wasn’t quite sure why. He hadn’t even inched closer to her, there was just a sudden shift in the air and a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite explain.

“You know, Pete and I only became close because I thought you read those letters I stuck in that book while you were away. So, I thought you just didn’t want me around you that much anymore” Cash admitted, his eyes were incredibly sincere, and his expression was quite serious with the afternoon gold dancing on his face. Shay looked at him in suspicious disbelief, searching his eyes for a tell or a ‘got ya’ of some kind but she couldn’t find one nestled in his orbs of ocean blue. Instead, they silently flicked to the thick book sat atop her lap, urging her to open it and find out the truth for herself. Shay wasn’t sure what to think, let alone do with herself if there was really a long-lost declaration of love nestled within the pages of the book he’d given her for her tenth birthday. She found herself replaying parts of the heart-to-heart mother daughter conversation she had shared with Maggie Harris before Cash came clambering through her bay window.

“…take going through your old things as an opportunity to look at stuff with a pair of fresh eyes, maybe there was something you missed the first time around, maybe you might even find yourself up there…hmm. Fourteen is a rough year for everybody, things that seemed easy to say suddenly aren’t…”

Shay swore she felt her stomach do a dozen flips as her green eyes settled on the picturesque lighthouse floating upon purple, orange pink hues and wispy clouds for a long moment. They flicked back to Cash momentarily, spotting the obvious sheepish grin still sat on his face as he gazed at her, and her heart knew he was telling the truth. Still, Shay found herself more conflicted than ever before, all the answers she yearned for from him her whole life were most definitely sat on her lap at this very moment. And yet part of her didn’t want it to be true because that would mean having no choice but to dredge up memories of that lonely summer. It wasn’t like she didn’t think Cash deserved to know, he did but part of her knew he deserved better than her. Shay didn’t want to admit everything wrong with them now, was her fault. She’d felt the pang of guilt in her chest more times than she could deny or play off in the last few days, and most especially in the last few hours. That deep seeded truth that she had quite possibly hurt him way more than he ever hurt her was too much to bear, too much to acknowledge. So, she bottled it all up and shielded herself behind plausible deniability. Habitual late-night mantras to try and convince herself that what she felt for and from him, wasn’t real. That the blushes, butterflies, and giddy hormones were never and could never be reciprocated because guarded, lonesome pining felt safer than unbridled love and passion. But now that Shay knew it was a tangible possibility, she found herself wanting it and him more than ever.

“Here” Cash all but crooned, lowering the hand that had just been toying with the ends of blonde hair he grasped her free hand and guided it to flip the book open. Shay felt a plethora of aroused giddy goosebumps prick her skin at the tenderly adorable action and found herself resisting the urge to crash her lips onto his more than ever before. The book now sat open on her lap and her green eyes instantly recognized photographs of smaller versions of Cash and her cuddled up under bright summer rays and blue skies. She remembered that day in Cape Cod quite clearly, they’d been looking for seashells in heaps of tan grainy sand the first summer after Huck Ewing left. Cash was notably happier that summer, Shay couldn’t help but smile at the memory despite how hard her heart was pounding at present moment.

“I remember that summer” Shay said in a soft breathless sounding tone, finally finding it in her to move and speak. She flipped through the pile of photos with a small smile on her lips, recalling every memory with a wistful feeling in her chest. One lone photo caught her eye, an old polaroid of Cash cuddled up in her bed asleep with the stuffed horse he’d won at the state fair for her the summer before eighth grade. Shay gingerly picked up the photo and closely inspected it with knitted brows. She couldn’t recall a time where she’d ever gotten out of bed before he did, even back then, she wasn’t an early bird like he was. She could tell by the soft glow spilling in through her smaller bedroom window, the picture was taken in the early hours of the morning.

“I don’t remember this one, when was this taken Cashy? We both know I’m never the first one out of bed” Shay said curiously, gingerly picking the picture out of the book and holding it up for him to see. Shay watched as Cash eyed the picture and swore, she saw another dusty pink blush sweep across his cheeks. Cash met her gaze with that emotion she could never quite place swirling in his eyes though her heart now told her what it could be, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. At least not until three words rolled off his tongue and hit her ears like a warm lullaby, but part of her still felt like she’d never hear them. The nagging thought that his advances were purely sexual and nothing more had been nestled in the back of her mind since they had lunch with Pete and Daisy. Along with the even worse realization that she’d definitely allow it to happen just to finally have him, even if it was just once, even if it was just for a night and even if it didn’t mean the same thing to him as it would her. She’d handle the anguish of that earthshattering truth the morning after because she had to. Because, if his lips even brushed against hers, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to stop…

“That summer you went away I still slept in your room sometimes…all the time really. Your mom didn’t mind; I missed you and you weren’t answering the letters I mustered up the courage to send. I thought about flying out to California everyday just to see you, you know, but you said you needed space, and I didn’t want to intrude on your summer fun.” Cash admitted wholeheartedly, without even a hint of hesitation for Shay to fall back on. Shay took a deep breath, finding it in her somewhere, she turned to face him completely and with the action Cash’s thumb increased the pace of the circles he’d been drawing on the back of her hand. He was trying to sooth her in a way that made Shay feel they were on the same wavelength for the first time since they were thirteen. Shay found herself fighting the almost primal urge to capture him in a kiss once more because their eyes locked with such an intense familiarity it had her feeling breathless. As the first string of pure vulnerability rolled off her tongue with more ease than she thought she was capable of, since that morning they shared brunch. Even then she only scratched the surface, now she supposed she could say more without even going into the deepest crevasses that negatively shaped her woeful adolescence.

“I lied Cash, I didn’t want space, I wanted to be with you, and I wanted to write back but I didn’t know what to say. I was so confused about everything that summer, that whole year really. I just… didn’t know what to do, it definitely wasn’t fun, I was miserable without you, but I didn’t think you’d miss me that much because you had Opal.” Shay said, her voice was soft and trembling with every word, but her tone was perhaps the most honest it had been in years. She knew the confession wasn’t much in comparison to the things she held the closest to her chest, but she did see something within the blue orbs in front of her change. A look resembling realization but of what she did not know. She didn’t really have time to think much about it either because before she could register the fact that Cash’s face was inching closer to hers. Their lips brushed, in a way so unbelievably fleeting, yet so incredibly tantalizing, Shay thought she must have imagined it. In one of her daylight musings about amorous trysts with the boy next door, the only man who ever truly had her heart.

Shay gasped, gazing up at Cashton Ewing flushed and utterly dumbfounded when she realized he was so close to her, his handsome face was out of focus. All she could make out was a mess of blurry blue and the feel of his warm breath waltzing over her plump lips when the thought finally dawned on her that she hadn’t imagined it. Cash had in fact kissed her for the briefest of moments and with that realization, what was left of her faux resolve shattered. Shay didn’t give it much thought before she launched herself into Cash’s arms and crashed her lips onto to his, latching onto him like he was the only life preserver out in a sea of deep blue. Almost as if he was the only thing keeping her from being swept up in a tidal wave, the only thing keeping her from floating away, in a way he was.

Cash let out an audible groan that sent shockwaves of both arousal and pleasure radiating to Shay’s warm core. She felt dizzy as his strong arms snaked round the small of her back, carefully trying to pull her small frame even closer to his than she already was. Shay let out a breathless groan of her own as she tangled her small fingers in his soft grey tendrils the way she’d been dreaming of since they were teenagers. The kiss deepened in a way that teetered on a gentle, demanding sort of synchronized hunger that made everything around them seem to fade away. It was perhaps the most in sync, the most in the moment, Shay had felt with Cashton Ewing since that Valentine’s Day they laid on a frozen pond, staring up at the stars and feather like snowflakes. Shay had thought nothing could top the way she felt that night, lying next to him on a sheet of ice while he stared at her like she was the center of his whole world, but this moment took it all. It almost made the twelve years of silent pining and sleepless nights worth tiresome treading up a slippery slope, worth it. At least before reality set in and Shay found it in herself to let them both up for some much-needed air. They sat there in silence for what felt like forever. Eyes closed, panting, unmoving, and still clinging to each other in a sea of blue seemingly trying to process what had just happened. Shay immediately found herself wishing she hadn’t dared to come up from something as silly as oxygen because the act of doing so, brought her back to earth.

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Cash’s POV

            Cash wasn’t quite sure what he had done to get to this moment. With Shay, the love of his life wrapped up in his arms. Kissing him the way he had only ever dreamt of for the past twelve years, part of him still couldn’t believe it was real. Not even when she pulled away to catch her breath, Cash found himself just staring at her. Taking in the way her perfect chest rose and fell while she sat straddling his lap, eyes closed, and cheeks tinted the most adorable shade of pink. It was moments like these Cash wished he had his camera; he’d take pictures of Shay all day if she’d let him the way she used to when they were free spirited kids running along sandy shores. Cash could never quite pinpoint why those days felt so far away. Perhaps it was the weight of getting older. The inability to block out the anxious internal ramblings that plague the dreaded period of one’s coming of age only seems to get harder as the years tick by. It’s only when you muster the courage to no longer let those anxious Broadway shows in your head no longer rule your life. Sometimes, it’s easier said than done but for reasons Cash couldn’t understand everything about that kiss felt easy, freeing even. The last time he’d felt this uninhibited was that summer before eighth grade, the last true summer he had Shay had spent together. Sometimes that summer felt like a lifetime ago, but this one kiss somehow made it feel closer than ever before, he could almost see it now. With the late evening sun streaming through the attic window, cascading over Shay’s sun kissed skin and short, bouncy blonde hair. It always seemed to frame her heart shaped face to some sort of ethereal perfection.

            “How are you even real…” Cash breathed out just above a whisper, more so to himself than anything. His tone was soft but somehow still managed to make Shay jump in surprise where she still sat on his lap as his vibrato cut through the silence they’d fallen into. Cash held back an amused chuckle watching her pretty green eyes fly open to meet his smiling gaze. His smile faltered slightly as he quickly assessed that her green orbs were flooded with a stream of fear. He couldn’t remember the last time Shay had looked at him with anything other than what he could only describe as a cute sort of annoyed look on her face. Sometimes she put in the effort to hide it behind a tight smile that never quite reached her pretty eyes. Cash had grown to appreciate the effort because it meant maybe she thought about him half as much as he thought about her.

 “Didn’t mean to frighten you, Cherry Blossom” Cash cooed, reassuringly tone running his hands down the small of her back in soothing motions with a bashful, yet comforting grin on his face. Shay wordlessly stared back at him for quite some time, her face and eyes were unusually expressive for the first time since they were hormonal teenagers.

“…I’m so sorry…” Shay finally croaked with tears brimming her eyes, her small arms wrapped around her torso in a clear effort to comfort herself. Cash couldn’t help the way felt his heart drop to his stomach at how frail her voice sounded as it floated out of her now quivering lips. This wasn’t the reaction he was hoping to get after an earth-shattering kiss like that, but it certainly put things in perspective for him. Shay’s inability to recount what really happened that day she refused to open her window or why she went away for a whole summer was one born out of anxiety and fear. Fear of judgment, the fear of Cash’s judgment to be exact. Cash watched Shay’s chest heave rapidly up and then down with soft blue eyes, a mix of sweat and tears fell from her rapidly moving eyes. They scanned the room, refusing to meet the blue eyes sat before them, searching for an exit the same way they had that last Thanksgiving they’d seen each other …

            “You don’t have to be sorry, Cherry Blossom. I’m not…that was perfect” Cash said in a soft but careful tone, reaching up to wipe away tears rolling down her cheeks tenderly. He knew what he had to do now. It was something he should’ve at least done that Thanksgiving everything went wrong. Looking back at it now Cash could see that was the day Shay had tried to open the window for him again. He tried to convince himself she was just “asking for a friend” but he knew she wasn’t. Cash would be lying if he said his guilt for that wasn’t what spurred him to beat Tyler half to death in a hotel lobby that snowy day Shay called him in tears. A night Cash was most certain Shay didn’t remember but that was a conversation for another day, for now he’d comfort her in all the ways he wished he could over the last twelve years…

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve ruined everything… I’m so stupid!” Shay said between gasps and soft sobs. Cash shushed her, tightening his gentle hold on her now trembling body as she attempted to squirm off his lap. Cash knew what this had seen her like this only twice before. She was pulling away from him again both physically and emotionally the same way she had back then, and he wouldn’t let her do it. He couldn’t let her do it at least not now that he saw a possibility of this ending the way he’d only ever dreamt of… He just had to get her out of her head long enough to see that he’d loved her and always had.

            “You didn’t ruin anything, Cherry Blossom, you’re not stupid. I’m going to take you downstairs it’s okay” Cash said calmly, still wiping away hot tears from her flushed cheeks with determination in his comforting blue eyes. Shay didn’t respond, her eyes seemed to still be looking for a flight-based exit strategy part of Cash wasn’t even sure if she heard him over her hyperventilating. Still, he guided her small trembling arms to grab hold of his neck.

“Hold on to me Cherry Blossom. You’re going to be okay; I’ve got you” Cash cooed in her ear reassuringly, moving his hands to grip the back of her thighs. He slowly rose to his feet taking great care not to jolt her already form too suddenly as he weaved his way through half unpacked tattered brown boxes. Shay seemed mostly unaware of what Cash was doing or where she even was until he made it to the top of the stairs, her small arms tightened around his neck greatly.

“I’d never let you fall, Cherry Blossom, you know that” Cash cooed along with an unrestrained string of sweet nothings. They poured out of his mouth the way waves crash on the sandy shore, smoothing her over with everything he had in him. And for once it felt easy, showering Shay with praise and care the way she’d done for Cash every night he’d crawled through her window battered and bruised. That feeling he had for her on those nights, that level of reverence he held for her even then at the ripe age of 7 never went away. It only bloomed, blossoming the way a cherry blossom does in spring with dazzling hues of pink.

            “My chest hurts, Cashy, I can’t breathe…” Shay finally said still struggling to catch her breath when Cash finally strode into the kitchen. Her face was pale, and tearstained as she gazed up at him with the most helpless green eyes, he’d ever seen on her in his life. Cash gently shushed her once more, planting a tender kiss in her soft blonde curls, part of him wanted to cry right along with her. There was so much pain in her eyes and Cash didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before but now that he had he would do everything within his power to snuff it out.

            “You’re having a panic attack, darling. Just breathe honey, I’ll get you some water and your snacks and we can watch some Harrison Ford movies” Cash crooned, attempting to set Shay’s shaky form on the living room sofa but her grip on his neck only tightened. Where she even found the strength to cling to him this was way beyond Cash right now.

            “Please don’t let me go, Cashy” her shaky voice hit Cash’s ear like some soft lullaby, but it was enough to deter him from setting her on the sofa. Cash nodded, silently plopping down on the sofa with Shay gingerly cradled in his arms; the action was enough for Shay’s breathing to slowly even out. Her green eyes were still clouded with a subtle amount of fear as they gazed up into his timidly.

            “I told you, no judgment on my part Cherry Blossom, remember?” Cash said placing a few more reassuring kisses into her soft curls with the same matured reverence he’d harbored for her since his youth. Before he softly wiped and kissed the few lingering tears on her flushed cheeks. It was hard to believe they’d had that conversation some hours ago a few feet from where they were no because it felt like they’d moved mountains since then. Cash felt Shay truly relax into his touch for the first time since they were kids. Smoothly melting into him and his comfort the way sand smooths under crashing waves of blue. Cash was sure it wouldn’t last too long; Shay had made it clear she was going to need a lot of reassurance if this thing between them was going to become anything like the way he hoped. Anything like the way he dreamed but for once Cash felt confident in his ability to get her there and that was more than enough…. That was everything.

🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝

[zeenmrala]

The Ladies Nienna and Ayane

this beautiful piece was created by @kimageddon, commissioned by @stardustbee for my birthday and it has to be one of the most special and gorgeous pieces i have ever received!!! it was inspired by a fic i wrote for bee about the friendship our OCs have between universes, the second time they meet. nienna (left) is my oc who is also the reader character from my fanfiction by the light of the second moon and ayane (right) is bee's oc from her fic the dance of sun and moon. this piece is part two, part one was a gift from bee last year which you can find here here. i'll post the new fic below just in case any friends are interested. love you, thank you so very much!!!!!!!1

The lady Nienna sits alone in her gardens, on the edge of a shallow pond, beneath the branches of draping swaying trees. It is a fragrant dusk evening on Naboo, and the growing summer breeze licks at her skin, her lower arms exposed from her sweeping green gown. 

She is sketching privately in a little book, a habit from her youth that she was never able to forsake. Her drawings are much more profound than they were when she was a young woman, her skills and precision having improved over the years during her career as a portrait artist and art-critic. What has stayed the same however, is her muse. Her lover from her days as a young adult, and once again now, as a grown woman of thirty-five: the renegade Sith Lord Maul. Her reacquaintance with him did not go as smoothly as their first meeting all those years ago did, with petty squabbles and resentment and unspoken words muddying the waters of their reunion. But in the last year they have comfortably settled into a relaxed yet unusual dynamic. She cannot call it a relationship, no - he is much too damaged and maddened and chaotic for such a thing. However, whatever it is that they have now, it suits them well enough. 

Nienna assesses her work, the sketch is of her lover from their meeting a couple of days ago. He had paid her a surprise visit, handsomely stylish in new robes and a pendant around his neck, an emblem of a rising sun that signifies his underworld criminal venture, Crimson Dawn. She thinks that his new aesthetic suits him now that his frame has grown larger with age, power and wealth. The dark tunic and gold regalia fits the powerful vision of him impeccably. His durasteel legs gleam in the same way that his brushed chromium weapon does, the hilt of the thing bold and dangerous: he carries it constantly at his hip like another cybernetic limb. She hums softly as she looks over her rendition of this strange man that is inexplicably tangled up in her life, feelings of an even stranger love tugging at her heart. She thinks over all that they have been through together, all that they have faced alone. How they have found one another again. 

She notices a change in the air, then. A hazy sweeping density that plunges her into a soft weightlessness. She blinks rapidly, dropping her sketchpad to the plush grass as she stands. It is a unique dreaminess that she has felt before, in a life long ago, but cannot seem to place. She spins around, searching between the trees and exotic flower-beds as she senses that she is being observed. The forest before her morphs, the rich greens and browns of leaves and soil twisting into deep reds and hazy ochres of a rocky landscape. Before she can register the ominous curiousness of her current predicament, a silhouette emerges from the blur, the definition of the figure slowly morphing into full clarity. It is a vivid and feminine shape, tall and striding with purpose. 

A woman that is heavy with child.

She is wearing a black dress with silver detailing at the waist and the dark fabric flows around her exquisitely as she walks, her thin hand resting protectively on her large belly. Her pale shoulders are exposed, but the reddish light of the strange scene warms the tundra of her skin. A choker of gleaming metal adorns her throat, the necklace engraved with the emblem of a raven, bold and solid. She has dark inky hair that is swept neatly from her face, half is up, braided with a twisting delicacy at the back of her head, the rest of it straight and silky, falling shiny and rich down her back. 

Nienna becomes painfully aware of her own appearance, of her hair, which sits wild and bushy and curly around her head, her fingers stained with charcoal, her long dress, though custom-made, artisan and beautiful, has foliage and dirt littering the materials of her skirts from lounging in the grass all afternoon. Why must she always appear moonstruck and crazed, especially when facing strangers in the woods? It is a commonality of her whole life, her wild, earthy aesthetic always coinciding with strange meetings in the forest. She sighs, attempting to maintain her dignity and embrace her own rugged beauty in the face of the regal brilliance of the stranger's own. 

The woman stops when she is a few strides from Nienna, squints her eyes at her, as though trying to place her. Close up, she seems less ravishing and more…frightening. Ethereal wrath burns beneath her expression, the weight of experience roaring in her irises. Those eyes…

"It's you," says Nienna, recognition morphing her expression into awe, astonishment lacing her words. "Ayane. The friend from my dreams in girlhood." She tilts her head, takes in the image of the looming, elegant woman before her. "My, you've changed."

Her friend’s eyes are the same colour as she remembers, but where they were once the blue of open summer skies, they are now the iced rage of a stormy sea. Though she seems more mature and wise, there are no lines of age marking her skin. Those lines are around Nienna’s eyes though, the years of her life beginning to stain her complexion, the youth slowly being leached from her skin. Ayane looks frozen in time, yet vibrant with the wisdom of a lifetime. 

“Nienna,” greets Ayane, a soft smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. “It has been a while.”

“How are you here?” The shorter woman asks bluntly, her confusion overriding her politeness. She reaches forward into the red mist that has followed Ayane into her vergant gardens, wiggles her fingers in it. It's cold.

Ayane purses her lips, looks around her. “Curious, isn’t it?” Her palm circles her pregnant stomach as she wanders. A silence settles around them, both unsure of how to approach this odd reunion. A crater of years rests between them, a vast distance between universes, as well as the inherently perplexing nature of their meeting. Nienna has thirsted for knowledge since she was freed from her home planet, and has scoured the worlds in search of it. She is an intelligent and well read woman, the itch to learn and rid herself of that childish naivety she has always loathed in herself as necessary for her as breathing. She researched her dreams, her strange visions and the odd meeting she had with Ayane as a young woman, and has only discovered one potential connecting factor - The Force. It beguiles her, frightens her. Mystical and maddening, its clutches have haunted her for her entire life. Is it the cause of this meeting now, too?

Nienna watches Ayane closely, following her movement with wide, green eyes. Then the woman stops cold, and a wash of menace sluices down Nienna’s spine.

"What is this?" She asks sharply, danger rippling in her voice. Nienna follows her extended finger, which points to her sketchpad on the ground, its pages open to her newest sketch of Maul.

Nienna frowns, blinking. "My art," she answers defensively, not appreciating the sneering nature of Ayane's tone.

"Why are you drawing him?" There is confusion and accusation in her eyes as she glares at her. The grave shadow in her gaze starts to become literal, the whites of them darkening to black. Her anger burns her irises red, and her lips instinctively pull back, revealing sharp fangs. She all but hisses at her.

Nienna flinches. She is perplexed at her friend’s sudden wildness and grim transformation, at how she recognised her lover in the sketch. "You know him?"

“Know him?” spits Ayane violently, "He is my husband. The father of my children."

Husband? Nienna is dumbfounded, completely taken aback. “Impossible.”

Ayane looks down at her body, swollen with the very opposite of Nienna’s truth. “This babe will be our third.” When she looks back up again, her darkness has dissipated, her anger quelled by the reassurance of their unborn child. Her eyes are the familiar blue Nienna first recognised, her mouth and lips returned to normal. It is as though Nienna imagined it. 

Perhaps she did. 

Third. The word rings in her ears. Three children? How could he possibly reproduce? It is physically unfeasible. A fantasy. Nienna bends to the ground and picks up the book. 

“This sketch of him is an image from three days ago, Ayane. Look closer. At his lower half,” she insists, assuming this all to be some terrible mistake. 

The pregnant woman takes the sketchpad from Ni with gentle fingers. She straightens upright, then brings the drawing closer to her eyes. She looks over the subject of the drawing, making note of such a unique face, a face that definitely belongs to Maul. It is unmistakable, what with his casual expression of contempt, the imposing crown of horns, his handsome nose and jaw: her soulmate's features are as familiar to Ayane as her own body is. She sees the cybernetics of his legs, and her bewilderment grows. Why does he have those? Why is Nienna drawing him? 

“Who is he to you?” she demands coldly.

“I don’t have words for it,” Nienna replies truthfully, unable to make sense of what he is to her. Ayane stays silent for a moment, and Nienna tries to further explain, but the words do not come easily. “He is my liberator, my tormenter…my…” she tapers off. 

Ayane disappears from herself for a moment, her gaze vacant as she looks into the distance, as though she is searching for something. And she is, internally, reaching out to her bond with Maul, trying to pass the bridge that connects their minds in the Force. But there is nothing there. No bridge, no connection. No bond.

“I cannot feel him,” she whispers, fear and awe strangling the reality out of her. “Not here.”

Nienna’s sense returns to her at these words, and she recalls her previous experiences with Ayane. She is not from this world, this galaxy, this universe - that much is clear. Perhaps she and Maul exist together as husband and wife, as parents…somewhere else. A different set of circumstances, a separate path. 

Another Maul.

“Was he not bisected, where you are from?” she asked tentatively, her stomach twisting. Marriage. Children. How would he be capable of such things?

“Yes,” Ayane says sadly, to Nienna’s shock. “He was grievously injured in battle. But he was healed.” Her watery blue eyes meet the earthen green of Nienna’s. Nienna raises her hands to face, turning away from her friend. Healed?

“I don’t understand,” mutters Nienna, her heart pounding. “How does one heal from an injury of that magnitude?” She has never heard of such a thing, not once in her life. How does a man regain his legs, his reproductive organs, when they have been detached from his body? His survival itself was a miracle, and now this?

“We are from different planes,” assumes Ayane calmly. “My dimension is vastly dissimilar to this one.” She pauses, her lips pouting, her hand on her chin, her eyes glowering in thought. “It appears this…connection…that you and I have, Nienna, is somehow attached to our relationship with him.”

Nienna turns back to face her, and her expression is painted with disbelief. "We are connected…by him?"

“It is our commonality, is it not?” She asks, running her eyes over Nienna. “What is your relationship with Maul?” She spits, and she waits for that violent rage to erupt inside of her, the horrific rush of vengeance that rattles her bones when another woman is associated with him. Nienna doesn’t answer, and Ayane’s patience runs thin, unable to prevent herself from adding, "Do you love him?”

The air is sucked from Nienna’s lungs as she nods. “I do,” she admits breathily, in slight fear of Ayane, the image of her strange eyes and sharp teeth so recent in her mind. She braces herself.

But Ayane does nothing, says nothing, because she is taken aback by her absence of rage. Then she suddenly makes sense of it: it’s because the man Nienna loves is not her Maul. She is not connected with him in this realm, which is why she cannot reach him through their bond. It isn’t him, here, he isn’t hers. He is Nienna’s. Nienna has the same realisation, as she registers that she has not felt any resentment or animosity to Ayane since discovering their shared lover. That she has felt no need to lay claim to him at all.

“Oh,” Ayane murmurs, then smiles, the lack of fierce fury a soothing relief. She looks at Nienna, fondness in her eyes. A pause. “Nienna, this is ever so strange.”

This was not what Nienna expected to come from her friend’s lips. Compassion and empathy courses through Ayane, as she considers the Maul in this dimension, his disability and trauma. The toll this must have on her friend.

"I'm sorry," says Ayane softly. "That in this dimension you will not be able to bear him children."

Nienna snorts. "Don't be. I'd never have his children, even if he could give them to me." Ayane steps back, starting, her hands protective over her stomach.

Nienna’s eyes widen. "Forgive me. What I mean is that I never would have children. Not his, not anyone's."

Ayane seems confused by this. 

“I birth enough creation with my art,” Nienna explains. “This world, this galaxy, this universe. It's no place for a child.” She shakes her head. “Not here.”

“What about marriage?” she asks.

“No,” Nienna insists. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you…happy together?” asks the dark-haired woman curiously.

“That is a complicated question. Our…romance,” Nienna answers, “is not at all conventional.”

Ayane giggles, and it is a heartfelt melodic laugh that breaks the tension between them. “I suppose that’s an intrinsic element of loving him.”

Nienna nods, then pushes her hair from her face. Hesitates.

“Can I ask? Your eyes. They changed colour…”

“Ah yes,” Ayane says nonchalantly. “That happens. I’m not exactly human.”

Nienna does not need to know any more, doesn’t want to. She accepts Ayane’s answer, happy to move on. A hard lesson she has learned is that though truth is sweet and enticing to her, sometimes it is the best course of action to resist knowing more than you need to, more than you are entitled to. She has become rather skilled at treading that line.

“Tell me, Nienna,” requests Ayane, extending her pale hand towards her to give her back her artbook, “of your non-conventional relationship with my husband. I am curious.”

Nienna snorts a laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, and Ayane begins to giggle in tandem with her. Nienna takes the sketchpad back from Ayane, then reaches out and takes her friend’s hand. “I shall enlighten you whilst I take you on a tour of my gardens.”

The two wander in the timeless dreamscape, and Nienna identifies and shows off her multitudes of flora as she weaves her life story into words. She tells her of the Moons, her youth as a surgeon’s daughter, Maul’s sudden imposition on her life and the harrowing changes he inflicted upon it. She leaves out the details of their physical relationship, because though integral to their story, it does not seem to have a place in this conversation. Nienna sensed the depth of Ayane’s jealousy that rages in her blood. It is less painful for them both this way.

The walk of the forest is hazy, littered with odd watery scenery that indicate they do not walk the physical realm of her world. It is perplexing, how they are together, why they are together and what relevancy it has to their relationships with the former Sith Lord. The two recall their time in the woods, all those years ago, how they both awoke with a physical remnant of the dream; their flower crowns. 

“I treasure that gift,” Ayane confesses. “I still have it, to this day.” 

“So do I,” says Nienna. The delicate blue crown made with flowers from Ayane’s world sits under lock and key, alongside her other most valuable and sentimental artefacts. It lies in the pages of her secret sketchpad that she treasured all those years ago.

After a pause, Nienna turns towards Ayane and asks, “What do you suppose is the meaning of our meeting tonight? Do you believe there is any rhyme or reason to these events? You are clearly much more knowledgeable and experienced in these matters than I am.”

Ayane sighs softly and shakes her head. “I have not the slightest idea. But I am glad that, for whatever reason, we were able to be reunited again.”

“Me too.”

The two women have now completed a lap of the entire gardens, and have returned to the spot where they were first reunited. They both perch on the edge of the pond, and Nienna retrieves her pouch of pencils that she placed between the rocks. 

She smiles softly, then places her sketchbook and tools on her lap. She has an idea, and is slightly nervous to ask Ayane about it. Eventually, she takes a deep breath, and flicks through to an empty page and looks at her friend. 

“Ayane, would you mind if I did a quick sketch of you? I am a portrait artist, I’ve spent my life perfecting my technique and collecting the faces of those from across the stars. It would mean an awful lot to me to put this beautiful evening to paper, to be able to draw…you.”

Ayane blinks slowly, her hand still resting on her pregnant belly protectively. She seems unsure, but after pondering it for a moment, she ultimately nods, and a tender smile forms on her lips. “Of course, my friend. I would be honoured.” She looks around herself, and reaches for her hair. “Do you want me to…should I…?”

Ni shakes her head. “No, you look great where you are. You’re perfect, Ayane.” 

And so she begins to sketch her muse, starting with an outline of the vampiress. Nienna’s wrists and fingers glide swiftly across the page, and she works fast but precisely, her expertise apparent in her quick fingers and the concentration painted on her face. 

Ayane feels awkward at first, and doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. She shifts, and looks at the ground, her body rigid. She looks more and more uncomfortable as the time stretches on.

“Try and…relax,” advises Nienna kindly when she notices Ayane’s discomfort. “Just look at the stars, at the moon. Watch the sky. Think of your family. Think of…him.”

Ayane nods, and exhales softly. She shifts again, and then looks up into the sky, and smiles. “I’ve always loved the stars, the moon.”

Nienna smiles, sketching as she replies. “As do I. It is a joy to be able to walk beneath the light.”

After a while, Ayane inquires softly. “Do you know of Dathomir, Nienna?” 

“I do.” 

“Dathomir is where I reside,” she says, looking around her at the abundance of flora, the vibrant greens and earthy browns. Nienna’s gardens appear to be the very antithesis to Ayane’s home of rock and red mists. “It is rather…different from yours.”

“Stars,” Nienna exclaims, “you live there? How do you stand it?”

“What do you mean?” asks Ayane, somewhat shocked. 

“It’s not the…um…most comfortable of environments?” 

Ayane nods, and smiles knowingly. “I suppose it can seem that way to some. For me, it’s my ancestral home, the residence of my kin. It is where I was born to be.”

“I do not have the same attachment to it. I went once, at the request of…him. It was not the most pleasant of atmospheres, to put it lightly. I haven’t returned since.”

Ayane giggles. “I can only imagine what the humidity did to your hair.”

“Exactly! It was awful. He said I looked like some kind of wild woman.”

Their laughter fades, and then the peaceful silence returns until Ayane breaks it. “Tell me Nienna, have you watched the moons from the Dathomiri mountains?”

Nienna pauses, and exhales. “No, I haven’t. I have yet to accept another of my lover’s invitations to his native home.”

“The next time he requests your presence, oblige him,” Ayane suggests. “Allow him to walk you up to the mountains. Watch the skies at night. It is the most beautiful thing - I can hardly bring myself to describe it. If your Dathomir is the same as mine, that is.”

The artist pauses in her sketching, and looks into the ocean eyes of her friend. “I will, Ayane. Thank you, that is very thoughtful. And I shall think of you when I look upon the moons of Dathomir. I will give the place another try.”

The two women sit beneath the Naboo night sky as Nienna continues to sketch Ayane under the moonlight. The breeze remains gentle and floral, and it brushes against them in a soothing caress, the leaves around them rustling softly. The evening stretches into the timeless dreamscape, and then, it is almost finished.

Nienna completes her sketch, drops her pencil and flexes her fingers and wrists. “Ah,” she sighs in slight pain. “My hands aren’t what they used to be.” She then shuffles over to Ayane and presents her the portrait. “What do you think?”

Ayane sucks in a sharp breath as she appraises the image of herself on the paper. Lady Nienna is highly regarded as being in possession of a rare and unique talent: in laying bare truth. She is able to present to the world, in full clarity, the hearts and desires of her subjects through their eyes and expressions. 

The drawing of Ayane presents a softened reflection of the vampire, as though Nienna has delved deep into her mind and forced forth the girl from her younger years. Hope and loss and confusion gleam in Ayane's eyes, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as though in anticipation - as though that young girl she used to be is poised and ready to run from her life. 

It's raw and candid and real: exquisite. 

"Oh, Nienna…" Ayane says, her voice trembling with emotion. "I've not seen this version of myself for many years." 

Nienna smiles softly, her eyes glazing across her work. "That's the person I first met. The Ayane I know." She meets her gaze. "The Ayane you are, deep down. My friend."

A tight fist of sentiment twists in Ayane's chest. Then, a soft breeze flickers the pages, revealing a self portrait Nienna sketched a few moons ago. 

"This is you," Ayane says. The woman in the sketch has darkness in her eyes, yearning warping the clothes she is dressed in in a strange darkness. Her face, though neutral in expression, screams for purpose and liberation. Haunted. 

"It's who I was. Who I am."

A pause. The dreamscape warps and glitches, and Ayane becomes slightly…transparent.

"It's fading." Ayane looks around herself, hesitance and resistance paints her expression. "Our time is coming to an end."

"Take this." Nienna tears out the self portrait, crushing it into Ayane's palm. "Remember me. I'll remember you."

Ayane's eyes water. "I hope to see you again, one day."

"As do I." Ni swallows, holding her sketchpad to her chest. "Goodbye Ayane."

"Nienna," Ayane says as she begins to fade, reaching her hand towards the shorter woman. "Remember the Moons."

And then she disappears, the crimson dawn of her home, universes apart, evaporates into the dark swamp greens of Nienna's gardens.

Ni takes a breath, the weightless feeling dispersing. She is grounded again. With charcoal stained fingers, she flicks to the page in her book that held the drawing of Ayane. 

It's still there.

-

[euphoricimagination]

Summary: Months have passed since the training camp, now entering October, successfully passing the preliminaries. The Spring Interhigh was about to happen, however a call from the All-Japan Youth training shakes the Nekoma team, an unexpected invite to join.

Kenma x reader; Haikyuu x reader

Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

From the beginning

In these past months the guys have practiced a lot, with a lot of practice matches between different schools. It's the 26th of October. Today is the Spring High preliminary, which will decide which schools will go to Nationals. Since Tokyo was the host of the Spring High, they have 3 spots available to represent the city, you just have to be one of them. This was the last chance for your third years to make it, so everyone was a little worried.

You are now in the gymnasium, waiting for the female volleyball teams to finish. You were standing near the team watching the most recent match of one of the schools when you heard a loud voice behind.

“HEY, HEY, HEY! Chibi-chan!” Bokuto back-hugs you while pressing his cheek on the top of your head, causing a lot of people to look in your direction “It's been way too long! Let me buy you some food later!”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san” you chuckle while patting his head “are you guys ready?”

“Of course we are, we will beat you guys” says playfully while moving you side to side

“Oh, I want to see you try, you owl, my cats got better”

“I know, but I will still beat you. Don’t worry, you still can make it to the Nationals. And if not…I will avenge your third years!”

“That’s not the most encouraging thing to say Bokuto-san” says Akaashi arriving “but we will win against you Yn-chan”

“Akaashi! You too!?”

“Sorry, but Bokuto-san has bee-”

“Sakusa-kun! Komori-kun! Hii!” screams Bokuto interrupting Akaashi

“he has been in a really good mood lately” continues Akaashi

“I noticed, he seems even more confident than normal. Hi Komori-kun, Sakusa-kun” you smile at the boys

“Yn-chan hi! Akaashi-kun, Bokuto-san how are you” says Komori arriving, followed by Sakusa who just nods “what were you talking about?”

“About the game, we have a match against chibi-chan!” says Bokuto excited

“Were you analyzing their plays too?” Komori chuckles

“Nah, I already know how they play. I was watching Nohebi’s match just in case”

“Be careful with them, they’re cunning” Sakusa adds, looking around uncomfortable, there were a lot of eyes on you, after all Bokuto and Sakusa were really respected here “don’t be too nice to them or trust them too much”

“Are they that bad?”

“Yeah, although I’m sure you can handle them. Good luck today” he hesitantly pats your head before leaving, making Komori surprised

“He never touches someone unless there’s no option” whispers amazed “anyways, good luck guys!”

“We have to go too, let’s have a good game” says Akaashi

“See you guys”

“Chibi-chan, I’ll buy you food later!”

“Sure Bokuto-san, I can’t wait to see you play. My brother and mom came too, by the way”

“My little fan came to see me! HEY, HEY, HEY!”

With that you go back to your cats, passing by a bearded man in a suit, who looks at you interested while whispering something to another one. Although he looks like a normal dude, you can’t help but feel creep out by the interaction, so you move fast to where the team is, seeing Kuroo and Yamamoto talking to someone while the rest of the team is behind

“What is happening?” You asked Kenma and Kai, who were at the back “And where is Lev?”

“Nohebi High and their antics, Lev went to the bathroom” answers Kai

“…After all, you’re only good at defense” you were able to hear as you get close. Out of nowhere Lev appears behind the dude, saying that Nekoma is different this year only to be scolded by Yaku

“Yeah sure, how different things can be? Being tall doesn’t mean shit”

“Daisho, do you have no-”

“What is happening Tetsu?” you move to look at him, while you knew that the team wouldn’t start a physical fight, it was better to avoid any confrontation

“Ehh…nothing chibi-chan, don’t worry” says moving in front of you

“Aaww you got your cute little manager protecting you” says the captain of the team, looking at you up and down “look hot stuff, I understand if the cats don’t…pleasure you enough, that’s why you go to the Fukurodani and Itachiyama boys. You can always come to us; we can always pleasure you in ways that the kitties here wouldn’t be able to”

“HOW DARE YOU TO TALK ABO-”

“Let’s go” you roll your eyes taking both of their arms

“Yeah, yeah, you probably want to suck their di-ouch!” you punch him before he could finish his sentence, surprising him by the sudden move

“Don’t call me a slut ever again. Leave” you say angry

“You’re crazy” the dude caress his cheek, redness appearing before walking away, leaving with the rest of the team following behind. You feel a pair of arms through your waist, slowly pulling you back.

“Relax chibi-chan, it’s me. How come you’re scarier than me?” says Kuroo pulling you towards the team

“Because you’re not scary”

“I will say you look more like an idiot than intimidating” says Yaku, earning a glare from Kuroo and a chuckle from you “Thank you for defending us chibi-chan”

“Yeah, and don’t believe them, you’re not a slut” Yamamoto adds

“I know Tora, I’ve been call like that before. Anyways, let’s go to the gym, the match is about to start” you push them slightly towards the entrance, for some reason the words of the Nohebi captain still ring on your head. Kenma comes to you and grabs your hand, squishing it in the process with worried eyes, you just smile back at him in an attempt to not worry him; you can see that he doesn’t believe it, but let it go

“Are you nervous Kuro?” he asks when you arrive besides the tall boy

“Of course I am, did you see who are we playing against?” says Kuroo right when cheers start sounding, Bokuto entering the arena throwing his jacket in the air. At the same time the cheers from your side start to go louder.

The game begins with Fukurodani serving, Yaku easily receiving it and sending the ball to Kenma. He sets it to Kuroo who scores past a single blocker. After receiving the serve of Yamamoto, Bokuto marks a poitnt despite the blockers being there, sending it into the stands. As Bokuto is praised by the Fukurōdani cheer section, you applaud him, surprised by the strength.

As the game progresses, Bokuto is able to score several points though Yaku is able to move in time to catch a cross-shot. When Nekoma’s spike is received, Bokuto does a line shot, and while Kenma moves into the right spot, he is unable to receive it due to the force.

“Bokuto-san is playing incredibly good, I see why Akaashi told me he’s in a good mood” you say in the time-out

“Yeah, both Bokuto-san and Yaku-san are in top condition today”

“I can see his spikes clearly”

“Did you notice the line shots of Bokuto-san?” asks you Kenma

“Yeah, he hasn’t failed a single one yet. He truly seems to be doing extra good on those”

“Yeah, and he knows that Yaku-san is waiting for the cross-shots”

“Should we start blocking the straight shots then?” Kuroo asks

“I’m pretty sure that Akaashi told me something about Bokuto being too good at something, he kinda just use it unconsciously”

“Then let’s wait until he gets more comfortable with line shots, then we change”

The game continues Bokuto spiking one more time, however Kuroo successfully blocks him by changing places with Kenma. You see Kenma tell the team something, probably to start blocking the straight shots now. The game continues and Bokuto is about to spike, however he does not have anywhere to send a shot, so he sends a line shot over Kenma but it’s out.

Kenma sets for Lev in the next rally, but Lev nearly misses and barely gets the ball over. Fukurodani are able to save it but the ball goes directly over the net, making Lev jump and attempt to spike, however, he completely misses.

Coach Nekomata calls for a time-out, so you go to Lev to talk to him after passing the bottles

“Lev! You’re not doing good today. Relax”

“I know! But I genuinely thought I could hit it”

“Lev” Kenma arrives with an annoyed face “you get scared and try too hard all at the same time, at least look at the ball, don’t lower your elbows, you need to prioritize height over speed”

“Kenma-san, don’t say it so fast! Yn-chan tell him!”

“You deserve it, Lev”

“I have told you all of this before” says Kenma with a face that makes Lev shake “You are nowhere near good as Shoyo” taking your hand, he pulls you away from Lev, who does an offended noise “Lev tires me more than the game” he lays his head on your shoulder

“I’m sure he’s nervous, first official match with the pressure of being the last opportunity for the guys. It can be a lot”

“I guess”

“You’re doing good, c’mon you can do this” you brush his hair out of his face before he has to come back

The game continues after that conversation, Lev goes to spike, jumping higher than before, however Konoha is able to chase the ball and send it back, landing it right in the corner. In the next rally, Lev lands a powerful spike, his height helping him a lot, however Fukurodani still manages to get the set.

You change sides, the coach giving them a little speech before the game continues, both teams refusing to let go while your cats build their defense. After being blocked by Lev and Kai, you noticed that Bokuto was looking sad, probably one of his emo modes appearing, making the team ask for a time-out.

The last rally starts again, Akaashi fooling Lev and setting it to Bokuto. As Bokuto jumps you can clearly see his big smile while making an extremely powerful cross-shot, giving them the win

“Seeing Bokuto-san play is always amazing to watch” you say to Kuroo and Kenma when they come by, looking at Bokuto who is celebrating with your brother and mom.

“I can’t deny that” Kuroo adds while you go out the gym

“Have you seen Lev? I don’t see him”

“I’ll go look for him, you two go and eat something” Kuroo walks away, while you and Kenma go to where the bags are to not be around so many people.

“You still thinking about it, aren’t you?” asks Kenma

“Huh? About what?”

“You’ve been quieter since Nohebi appeared” he explains taking your hand “it’s not true, you know that”

“I know, it’s just made me wonder if people tend to think that about me…I mean, most of my friends are men, and my interactions with them aren’t particularly normal”

“Come here” he pulls you to his chest, hugging you “who cares what they think about you? It’s not your fault that they don’t have friends that love them”

“Not you saying that, you hypocrite” you chuckle “but thank you”

“I don’t like seeing you all down” he hugs you tighter; both of your phones ring with a message, you look at it seeing a message from Hinata ‘We won! We’re going to the nationals!’ “he told you too?”

“Yeah” you write back a congratulation towards Hinata “he told me when they won against Seijoh too, and a little later Oikawa-san and Iwa-san told me that they lost, I didn’t know how to feel”

“Oh yeah, you’re friends with them too”

“Yeah…let’s go, the game is about to start” you stand up, dragging Kenma to where the team are, getting ready to play

“Alright Nekoma, let’s win this!” says Kuroo

You enter to the gym once again, Nekoma now facing Nohebi Academy for the last spot for the Nationals. You see Kuroo talking to the captain, annoyance in his face

“We know this already, but they’re tricky players…”

“They seem to use a lot of feints too, be careful”

“Well, if they score 5 points we just need to score 10” says Yaku, making the team say how cool he looked.

The game begins with Kenma’s serve, when Lev and Kai try to block, Nohebi attempts a feint shot, Yamamoto receives it quite messily, leading Nohebi to do a direct spike and score. When they go to serve, you were able to hear the players say something, some looking at Lev, some shifting their eyes to where you are, making your team clearly annoyed. As Nohebi spikes, you see that Yamamoto moves too far getting hit directly on his head. Since you were the manager, you were allowed to go in the court and make sure he’s okay

“Tora, you okay” you ask while putting the icepack on his head, the rest of the team coming close

“Yes, I’m fine, I thought he would do another feint but I was wr-” he stops looking behind you, the other team bowing as an apology

“That’s a fake apology if I ever seen one” you mutter helping Yamamoto up and taking him to the bench with Inuoka, since the coach ask for a time-out

“Have they always been like this?” asks Lev

“The captain recently started to act as a Goody Two shoes, it gains admiration from the referees and the crowd”

“But you can basically read FAKE on top of them, how nobody notices?”

“I don’t know, but I never thought they would stop so low. I know that they want to make us angry, but they don’t have to use you for that” Yamamoto looks at you sad

“It’s alright Tora, don’t fall for those”

The game continues with both sides scoring until eventually Yamamoto tries to save the ball, but it heads toward the crowd, Yaku rushing to successfully send it back to Nohebi. You noticed that Yaku was grabbing his leg after saving it, so you go to where he is to help him.

“Yaku-san! Here let me help you”

“He landed on someone’s foot” explains Shibayama to the team while you go back, Yamamoto coming to help.

“I’m sorry sir” says Yaku trying to go back to the court, but falling due the pain

“Yaku-san don’t move, you’re going to hurt yourself more” you tell him

“Shibayama, go to warm up, you’re up now” says coach Nekomata

“I’m sorry guys”

“We always cause you problems, Yaku, it’s not going to hurt anyone if you see us win from the bench” says Kuroo

“Don’t worry, it’s just a break before we go to the Nationals. Go with chibi-chan so she can help you” adds Kai

“And I have been so careful this year” Yaku sighs while you walk to the bench with him

“Yaku-san, these things happen, they are out of your control” you help him sit, putting his leg on top of yours to put some bandages “you just need to take care of it now so it doesn’t get worse. Besides, Nekoma is known as defense specialist, not just you. They’ll be fine”

“I know” he looks at his ankle “thank you chibi-chan...You sometimes act like a mom, you know?”

“Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment”

Kenma serves, but Nohebi digs it aiming for Shibayama, who fails to receive because of his nerves. Coach Nekomata decides to call for a time-out, so you pass them their bottles, feeling the tension rise up

“Shibayama, relax. You are really good, I’m sure you can do it” you say to the first year

“Thank you, Yn-san”

“I’m going back to help Yaku-san, relax we’ll be fine”

“Yeah, I think so too” says Kenma, who begins to explain something while you go back to help Yaku

And true to his words, Nekoma ends up winning the first set, Shibayama being able to relax and dig the ball, and with an amazing back row attack by Kuroo. Halfway through the second set, Nekoma has a two-point lead. When Fukunaga spikes, he hits it towards the back, a spike that he never fails, however two of the Nohebi team dives to receive it in a really weird position, making the referees give them the point since it was supposedly out

“But that was in” you say to yourself however the coach and other people around seem to hear

“How are you so sure about that?” says a voice behind you , making you turn around to see the bearded man in suit from before. You look at coach Nekomata, who gives you a little nod, confirming that it was safe to talk to him

“Ehh…well Fukunaga, the number 6, has never fail those shots…also the back of the divers was a little higher than what normal dives look like, it would have been impossible to dig it like that”

“Ha! I agree with you, it did seem like the ball went in, however this is a high school match, is not serious enough to have a bunch of cameras to prove your point”

“I know”

“You seem to know your team really well, you pay a lot of attention to the match and you seem to be able to analyze the plays and help your team with information, have you consider being a coac-”

“Chibi-chan! Can you help me?” calls you Kuroo coming to you. You immediately shift your attention towards him, seeing blood on his hand

“What happened to you?” you ask taking the bandages and some alcohol

“I couldn’t receive it properly, but it’s nothing, don’t worry too much…Who were you talking to-Aagh!”

“It’s nothing, huh?” You raise your eyebrow playfully, putting the bandage on his finger “and I have no clue, seems important though. Better?”

“Yeah, thank you” says passing an arm through your shoulder while waiting for his turn “is it me or Lev looks more concentrated than before?”

“He is” you notice when Lev spikes the ball, Nohebi saving it just in time. However when they are about to spike, Lev aura seem to totally change, an intensity that you have never seen before from him, making the ball go directly to Shibayama and helping Yamamoto to mark the last point for Nekoma, making them the winners

“WE WON!” screams Kuroo, pulling you and Yaku into a tight hug. While some of the team comes to Yaku, who’s crying from happiness, you go to where Kenma is, looking at Lev and Shibayama celebrate

“You won” you hug him tightly despite the sweat, surprising him by the sudden hug “We’re going to the Nationals!”

“Yeah, we are” he passes his arms through your waist, pulling you as close. You take his face and smile at him before giving him a kiss, until you realize that you still were in front of people.

“Sorry, I wa-”

“If that’s my price for winning I might try a little harder to win” he nuzzles his head in the crock of your neck

“We are literally dating Ken, we can kiss every time we want” you chuckle

“But you still are my favorite reward”

“Aww young love” Kuroo arrives to your side “we should go out now though”

“Yeah, let me go and grab the bag”

“I’ll go with you” says Kenma

“Are you going to text Shoyo after?” you ask, receiving a nod from Kenma “Ok, I’ll tell my foxes about it too” you sit on the floor to put all the bottles and towels on the bag. Out of nowhere a paper bag appears in front of you, seeing a yellow and green jacket.

“Take it, some meat buns” says Sakusa when you look up

“T-thank you Sakusa-kun, but why?”

“Well…ehh…” while hard to see, you still could notice a faint blush behind his mask

“There are rumors about what happened with you and the captain of Nohebi” Komori answers instead “and what he said about you…”

“I told you to be careful with them. Congrats on winning” with that Sakusa leaves, not before patting your head one more time

“You’re nice, so don’t believe any of those things they told you, we appreciate your friendship a lot. Sakusa too, he seems to like you a lot” says Komori

“Thank you Komori-kun”

“See you in the Nationals!” says before leaving.

After eating with the guys and talking with Fukurodani, you get into the bus ready to go to the school to finally arrive home. All of the guys are exhausted after 2 long games, so they start falling asleep quickly, Kenma leaning on your shoulder. Once you arrive at the school the coach gives a little speech and lets you go, everyone leaving immediately to finally rest. When you arrive at your houses, Kenma instinctively moves you to his house so you go to sleep there, falling asleep on your chest while hugging you tightly.

++

You are a week away from entering December, the cold air getting even colder than before. Ever since they won in the preliminars the team has gain a lot of attention, gaining new fans. Occasionally there was a brave girl who comes up to the boys, normally Kuroo, Yaku, Lev and even Kenma, giving them a letter or some snack, leaving the boys in awkward situations; for some reason nobody seem particularly interested in a relationship. Luckily, all of the girls were really nice and respectful, nothing compared to Atsumu’s.

“So you’re telling me that having tons of girls confessing to Kenma doesn’t make you jealous at all?” asks you Kuroo one day on your way home

“Nope, it just frustrating that only now people start to notice how amazing he is”

“Well, I never wanted attention from anyone until I met you” says Kenma looking up from his phone “it’s annoying, and I hate it, but at least I get free food that I can share with you”

“Excuse me while I go to vomit” Kuroo smile at you “at least say that you will share with me too, I’m your best friend”

“And Yn is my girlfriend, so it’s only for us. Deal with it”

Today’s Friday afternoon, you were in the gym with the boys practicing while you were taking care of them and helping them with some things, since the coaches had an important call to answer. You were helping Lev with some receives alongside Kuroo when the coach enters and call you to a meeting.

“Everyone here? Yes? Okay, I have some…surprising news”

“What is it coach?”

“Have all of you heard about the All-Japan Youth training camp” says mostly looking at you, making you nod while drinking some water.

“Yes, why? One of us was invited? That hasn’t happened before” asks Kuroo confused

“Well, you could say so…They want to invite you, Yn-chan”

“ME?!” you say surprised, alongside the rest of the team

“Yeah, I was surprised too. Do you remember the man that talk to you on the match against Nohebi? When you said that Fukunaga’s point was in?”

“Yeah…”

“He is the coach for the Japan’s men’s Olympic volleyball team, Fuki Hibarida. He was there to look for candidates for the training camp. This year he decided to do an exception and invite you to see your capabilities at coaching; apparently, he has noticed you helping Inarizaki before and now Nekoma”

“Coaching…why that?”

“According to the call I had, he sees potential in you for that, not only your analysis of games, but how you connect with everyone in your team. He wants to train you” he says before giving you a paper with the information “It starts on Monday, so if you decide to go, you will be excepted from classes for a whole week while you there”

“It will be a good experience chibi-chan, none of us have go before, you’re really good after all” Yaku says

“While I don’t want to pressure you, don’t let this opportunity go to waste” Kuroo squish your cheek “don’t worry about our practices either, I’m sure we can survive without you for a week”

“…Sure, why not? It can’t be that bad”

“Good, let me call back then, I will give you all the information after. Keep practicing”

With that the coaches leave, the boys erupting in excited screams right after he closes the door. Kuroo lifted you by your armpits, causing you to swear at him; Yamamoto and Yaku were crying; the first years were running around. The only normal ones were Kai, who just laughed at the chaos, and Kenma, who had a little smile.

“Our chibi-chan got invited to a super exclusive camp!!” screams Yamamoto

“I knoow” Yaku wipes a tear

“I’m jealous of you chibi-chan, I always wanted to go there” Kuroo puts you down “literally the best out of the best are there”

“That doesn’t mean anything”

“Do you realize that the coach of the OLYMPIC TEAM just said you could be a great coach? You and your charms can definitely end up being a coach of a professional team” he pinches your cheeks again, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. You should go and practice before the coach comes back though. Go, go, go”

“Yn-san, we will not lose. We will practice so hard to be as good as the training camp players” says Inuoka with Shibayama and Lev behind before going to practice all fire up.

“I can definitely see you as a coach” Kenma gives you a quick kiss “you’re smart, and everyone you meet likes you and values your opinion, you will be good”

“Thank you, love”

On Monday morning you go with the guys to the station like normal, but instead of going to school you have to go to Ajinomoto National Training Center, which luckily was quite close.

“Is the next station, right Chibi?”

“Yep, it’s pretty close to school”

“You can’t go back home? You’re like 5 stations away” asks Kenma this time

“They told me I could since I live so close, but they’re going to practice until late, and for safety reasons they rather for me to stay in the dorm”

“Aren’t you like, the only girl going? Would it really be safe?” says Kuroo

“I have my own room and bathroom, away from where the boys are. Plus, Tsumu’s going too, I’ll be fine”

“Did you tell him?”

“That wouldn’t be fun. Anyways, I need to go down. Tetsu, you’re in charge of my duties until I come back. Ken” you take his face with your hands and kiss him “see you in a week”

“See you” he blush at the sudden display of affection, yet a little smile was creeping in while you go down the train, hearing Kuroo laugh.

The coach wanted to present you to the boys right after the introductions, but before going to the actual gym, you got told to leave your things in your dorm, a nice room next to the bathroom. Once you leave your things you went to the gym, hearing the end of the coach speech

“…What truly matters is not 'what you are blessed with', but rather 'what you're able to draw out'” the person who guides you goes to tell him something, so he adds “Finally, for the ones that have already been here, we have a new change that can help you achieve this. This year I’ve decided to have someone who is going to practice as an assistant coach, I have seen her with some of her teams and I’m sure that she can be an excellent coach in the near future. Can you come here Yn-chan?” says while the guide push you slightly next to the coach

“Hello, I’m Yn, nice to meet you” you bow. Once you stand up, not only you can see Atsumu with widen eyes, shaking while holding back his urge to come to you; but you also can see Kageyama, Sakusa, Komori and Eikichi Chigaya, from Shinzen Academy, all with surprised expressions.

“For the ones who don’t know her, she’s currently Nekoma’s High volleyball manager. From what I have notice, she’s able to catch the plays of other teams incredibly fast and with a lot of precision, I also heard that she gives good feedback to her team. Now I will let you get to know each other before we start”

With that the coaches move a few steps behind, leaving you all to interact with each other. You see some confusion in some eyes, confused as to why a girl was suddenly there

“Chibi-chan!” you see Atsumu running to you, crushing you into a hug

“Tsumu!” you pass your arms through his neck while he passes his through your waist, spinning you around

“How dare ya to not tell me ya were coming! I thought we were friends!” whines after putting you down

“And lose the opportunity to see your face? Hell nah”

“Am I just yer source of entertainment?”

“Yeah, why do you think I've dealt with your shit everyday?” your words made him pout

“Ye’re mean chibi-chan, and here I was sad that I couldn’t see ya despite how close ya were, just for ya to hurt me like this. My poor heart” says dramatically, playfulness in his eyes

“Deal with it” you hug his waist, putting your face in his chest as he hugs you back “I missed you, you big idiot, but you should go and say hi to the rest”

“I missed ya too” he kisses your temple “let’s talk after” he walks away to say hi to the rest while you go to Kageyama, who’s just standing there without talking to anyone

“Hello Tobio-kun, how are you?”

“Yn-san, hi. It’s nice to see you”

“Same here, I had a feeling you will be here”

“Did you?”

“Tobio-kun, you’re talented. How’s Shoyo by the way?”

“T-thanks Yn-san, means a lot” he puts his hand on his neck, blushing a little “That idiot is okay”

“That’s good, have yo-”

“What are you doing here?” Sakusa says behind you, it surprisingly didn’t sound mean despite the choice of words. You see Kageyama’s eyes widen when looking at Sakusa, shaking a little.

“Sakusa-kun hi. I have no clue, they just invite me”

“It makes sense really” Komori comes and pats your head “you are really observant, and I am not even in your team”

“Thanks Komori-kun”

“It’s nice having you here” Sakusa smiles at you while moving to pat your head too, bowing to Kageyama before leaving

“Hope we can actually get to know each other better, see you” says Komori leaving with Sakusa

“You know Sakusa-san?! How?!” asks Kageyama, his voice shaking a little

“Yeah, I met him last year, he’s really nice. Now, as much as I don’t want to, I have to meet the rest, so see you”

“Sure Yn-san, talk to you later”

You go around saying hello to everyone else, they were all really nice, some were a little awkward, but nice overall. You go to say hi to the last person, which you only could see his white hair, but for some reason seemed familiar.

“Hello?”

“Oh? Hi! I’m Kōrai Hoshiumi from ka-”

“Kamomedai, right?” you say surprised

“Oh yeah! I feel like I have seen you before”

“Inarizaki played against you last year, I was their manager”

“Ahhh that’s why! It’s nice to see you again!”

“You were really good last year; I wonder how much better you got”

“Oh, I’m sure it will surprise you!”

“Yn-chan, please come here” calls you the coach, so you go to him after bowing to Hoshiumi “we are going to do a match, help us divide the teams”

Since Atsumu and Kageyama both were setters, they obviously needed to be on different teams, so Atsumu end up being with Hoshiumi while Kageyama with Sakusa and Komori. On the first rally, you see Atsumu setting for someone, but it’s received by Komori without much problem. Kageyama then sets it to Sakusa, yet Atsumu is able to dig it sending it to the other side of the net. After being blocked by Hoshiumi, Kageyama sets it really fast, making the ball fall untouched

“Tobio-kun, you’re not at Karasuno!” you chuckle

“Sorry, it was out of habit” says Kageyama

“It’s okay it’s the first one”

“What Kageyama said it’s good, means that he can get used to plays” says one of the coaches

“Yeah, he adapts really fast to the spikers” you say as you continue watching them. The day continued with a lot of practices, changing teams every match so all the boys could play with each other. At lunchtime you went to eat with Atsumu, who faced Osamu and Suna so you could talk to them while you were texting Kenma and the team.

After all the practice matches of the afternoon, you were waiting for Atsumu to grab dinner, who went to shower after all the practice they did, so in the mean time you decided to go to where Kageyama was sitting.

“…we lost on the finals of our own tournament, how pathetic” says Eikichi

“You lost? How? You were good in the training camp” you sit down next to them

“Ah Yn-chan, yes, we did. I guess we had a bad day, we barely were able to get into the finals, what about you guys” he eats

“We’re going to the Nationals this time” you say

“Congrats!”

“Yn-san, you’re not eating? Here, have some of mine” Kageyama offers you some rice

“No, no, I’m waiting for Tsumu, just enjoy your food”

“But you’re my senpai, I should help you…”

“Thank you Tobio-kun, I’m okay, don’t worry. And I told you to not treat like a senpai or whatever, I don’t like it”

“But…”

“Oi, I haven’t seen the video but why did Shiratorizawa lost? Was Ushijima in a bad condition?” asks Sakusa to Kageyama when he approach

“Hm? No, I think he was playing okay…” answers Kageyama. Sakusa looks at you, like asking for a confirmation

“I don’t know, sorry, haven’t watch the video either” you say, so he nods focusing on Kageyama again. Eikichi looks at you confused by the interaction between Sakusa and you.

“Then how did he lose? Did someone stop him?”

“Yeah, someone did” Kageyama says simply, making Sakusa shock

“Who was it? What year? What’s his name? What middle sc-”

“Sorry!” Komori arrives “he’s way too negative, he wants to know everything he can about possible threats”

“I’m not negative, it’s called being careful”

“This sounds familiar, didn’t you ask me the same when Inarizaki won against Ushijima last year?” you look at the two boys with a smirk

“Yeah, he did”

“Again, I was being careful”

“I’m not judging, I do the same…just nicely” you make him mutter a small ‘I know’, his eyes relaxing a bit

“You still don’t play seriously, right” asks Kageyama, shocking everyone

“Why?”

“I thought so, so far you’re more normal than I thought” says Kageyama, shocking Sakusa while Komori and you laugh

“He thinks his shoulders aren’t okay, although it’s pure imagination” Komori adds while Sakusa whines lowly

“That was it? I noticed it too, but didn’t want to say anything yet. Sakusa-kun if your shoulders weren’t okay, you wouldn’t be able to spike at all without feeling pain” you chuckle

“I told him that! But he doesn’t listen to me!”

“Then why do I feel it so tense?” asks you Sakusa

“Maybe you’re stressed, you seem the type to worry about everything. A massage should help”

“I don’t want anyone’s dirty hands on my shoulders, I rather be tense” Sakusa almost whines stubbornly

“That’s not good for your health Sakusa-kun”

“Whatever, I’m going to take a bath”

“So soon?” asks Komori

“I’ll do it before everyone’s germs are on it”

“Put warm water in your shoulders for a while, that should help a bit with your pain. But if you do want a massage, you can tell me”

“…okay, eat something” says before leaving

“You know the pain was in his head, right Yn-chan?” Komori asks

“Yes, but it should help him relax a bit”

“Yeah, at least it’s something. Sorry to disturb you guys!” He leaves behind Sakusa as you see Atsumu entering the cafeteria

“Tsumu is over there, so I’ll take it as my cue to leave. See you tomorrow guys” you stand up leaving, arriving next to Atsumu “Finally, I was starving”

“Yer fault, I told ya to eat without me” says with two trays while you put some food on them, him taking both trays before going to sit “Thank ya for waiting though”

“Of course, I’m not leaving you to eat alone”

“Chibi-chaan! I swear, ye’re the best” he hugs you tightly, his eyes shining with happiness

“I know, I know. Let’s eat, okay”

You continue eating while talking, both of you sharing stories of what had happened to you these past months. After eating both of you went to your respective rooms, you went showering before Face Timing Kenma, who was playing his game while talking about what had happened today.

At some point you take your laptop out and put some headphones, Kenma still on call. Sakusa had brought up the fact that Karasuno won against Shiratorizawa, something that you hadn’t really thought about until now, so you were curious about the game too. While watching the match you decided to take some notes, since they could be handy in the future. After watching the match, and Kenma scolding you for continue working on your free time, you played with Kenma for a while before you call it a night at 2:30 am.

[freyrmedia]

I need to post more… it’s insane.

So, hi, I’m Freyr Media. I’m a digital artist on Tumblr, and I recently got obsessed with Minecraft again, oml. So here we are, sharing my art for funzies.

I got into the QSMP, and the Life Series, so I decided “hey, why not draw my oc into QSMP” for the fun of it, and then I created a lot… A LOT of Minecraft based artwork…

Ah yes, Freyr’s Dream SMP Design. I made this back in December 2023 when I was catching up on the ending of the Dream SMP. Worth it, and I had fun drawing Freyr. Poor kid has a broken wing due to November 16th.

I also forgot her hair dye in their base design… but I’m too lazy to fix it.

Here’s Freyr, this design applies to… really any universe she’s in. She has the ability to turn into a human form if she wants to, she still has her wings and antennae but she looks more human.

PORTAL TRAVELER LORE!!! Freyr is a demigod, born to another bee hybrid, a queen, and to the Goddess of Travel, Viatrix. She has a blue space like suit that allows her to travel through the other SMPs she chooses. Freyr has a god form(depicted in image 1. Now outdated) that makes her become the new god of Travel.

ARTEMIS!!! God, I love Artemis, my own piglin oc. I love her so much. The lore on her is she’s a runt of her litter, hence the pinker color and why her human form is more of a hybrid than human. She was born like that, and finds it embarrassing to use her human form especially when she looks abnormal. While she was abandoned at youth, she was adopted by a piglin brute and has a little brother.

For SHITS AND GIGGLES. I drew Freyr as a Watcher from the Evo SMP / The Life Series. We are often referred to as the Watchers so it only was fair that I drew Freyr as a Watcher. I loved how this one came out.

Uh… apart from that, if you read this far, thanks! Outside of being a digital artist, I have a Minecraft Series that’s going to be littered with lore on my YouTube Channel!!! Please check that out!

PLEASE CHECK IT OUT <33 and thank you! Buh byeeee!!!

[sharpen-your-hatchet]

Old Wounds - Wenclair fanfic, chapter 23

Description: Now aged 22, Wednesday Addams is an up-and-coming author. Her time at Nevermore is well behind her, and she is alone, and that suits her just fine...But when a 'new' neighbour shows up in her apartment building, she'll truly be tested on whether her "bad habit" of caring truly has been broken. (Hint: It hasn't.)  

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Mature (Fic is fully SFW up to Chapter 20)

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Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below!

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Spontaneity and impulsivity are traits of Wednesday’s that she prefers to keep hidden under pretence. It is an undeniable truth that – given the opportunity – she is more than capable of following up on a sudden violent whim, or chasing a mystery trail when such an enigma presents itself. But these traits; this inherent desire to pursue what intrigues her...well, for many people, this feeds into a perception of recklessness.

Whilst Wednesday does not care at all for other people’s opinions of her, it is important that she feels rightfully aligned with her own self-perception – Even if recent developments have shown she is far more fluid than one would initially expect. In any case, she finds it rather distasteful to assess her behaviour and see it as reckless. Reckless implies she is without thought and if Wednesday considers herself one thing: It is intelligent. She is also refined, controlled; intuitive and analytical. These impulses of hers to chase the thrill of satiated curiosity are calculated.

However, when it comes to impulsivity of a… different nature...

Well, Wednesday is still learning just how spontaneous she can be. Given that she and Enid have done little experimenting outside of the safe four walls of their own apartments, there is an entire world of possibility unveiling before her. It would seem their tryst in the car was just the beginning.

Currently, Enid is dragging her through the upper hallways of her family home. Enid’s hand takes a commanding hold of her own, making a bee line to the bedroom. Despite how many years it’s been; how the house seems to eerily warp and shift at its own whims, Enid knows where she is going – and she is going with intent.

Wednesday can feel a palpable change in the air as they get closer. It is in Enid’s pace, the electrifying and tense grip Enid’s hand has on hers, and the subtle, hungry glances Enid takes as they near the door. There is a hum of energy in Wednesday’s chest at all this. It flutters from her heart, all the way down to her lower stomach where it sits aching, waiting in anticipation.

Enid pulls them into Wednesday’s room, and Wednesday uses her free hand to push the door shut behind them, swiftly tackling the various locks and deadbolts until it is certain her room is a fortress that none may enter.

And then, she turns back to Enid.

They stare at each other.

And this is where it begins... They are in Wednesday’s room. Her childhood room no less. It is dark and dingy, dressed similarly to a torture room in some respect, but still holding a childlike air as though frozen in time - it is a true temple to her youth that her family has respectfully maintained in her absence. Though frankly, Wednesday has no use for the sentimentality. She finds it restrictive. To think that a space must remain what it once was and always has been… well, it is deny the never-ending nature of time. The past must die, and so must the incessant grip of innocence this room tries to bare upon her.

So to put it in less formal – and more impulsive – terms:

Fuck it.

Wednesday will allow herself this recklessness if it allows her to look upon Enid the way she is now. That is to say: up-close and intimate as she is pushed against the door by Enid’s strong frame. The jolt sends sparks flying down Wednesday’s spine. With Enid holding her steady, it is familiar, captivating, and just a little bit painful in a way that Wednesday cannot not deny enjoying. A small gasp escapes her lips, eliciting a smirk from Enid in response.

“I mustn’t be the only desperate one.” Enid murmurs, stealing a kiss from Wednesday’s lips. “After we got caught earlier, I was totally dying from the embarrassment...but really, the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about how we didn’t get to finish.”

They kiss briefly, exploring each other’s mouths with fervour. Enid is hungry and giving; Wednesday is reciprocal and reeling, feeling thunder surge in her veins as Enid’s lips capture hers again and again. It is like a dark magic. Wednesday could only wish the hexes she had studied felt so emboldening.

When they split, they are both already breathless.

Dazzled from Enid’s weight against her, the kiss; the intimacy of it all – Wednesday barely wants to say anything. Though her body tingles, she is not nearing her limit, not yet. There is simply a storm brewing under her skin and a surging motivation to see their prior disrupted task finished. There is little else on her mind suddenly, in fact. She had been dragged away from it before, her brain too dug down in the pits of humility from facing her mother… but Enid’s eagerness and the retrieval of their privacy brings Wednesday back into focus. There is an end goal, and she is renewed in her determination to reach it. She aches to see Enid achieve what was so briefly in sight.

As such, Wednesday lightly pushes Enid away. They need not waste time. There is a slightly surprised, darkening expression that falls upon Enid’s face at this, as she takes a few steps back to keep her balance. Enid’s mouth hangs open slightly, asking a silent question.

“On the bed, mi cariño,” Wednesday dictates. “You on top.”

Enid takes in a steadying breath. “Like earlier?” She asks, her eyes growing black with arousal.

“Yes.” Wednesday replies plainly. There is something vindicating about knowing what she wants; knowing how to move herself and Enid this time around from their experience in the car. It makes it less overwhelming, as though she can somewhat grasp this desire and make it palpable; bring it into being. It is a victory in many senses. Wednesday can feel her body thrum, emboldened by the power this slither of experience offers – and though, there is still a long way to go until she can give herself entirely to Enid, there is still sinful heaven and glorious hell to be found in her progress through this gentle purgatory.

Wednesday makes a move to the bed, brushing past a slightly slack-jaw Enid. She gets herself comfortable and then watches intently as Enid approaches the bed herself.

“And here I was thinking I was going to be in charge.” Enid jokes as she clambers onto the mattress and straddles Wednesday’s hips.

Wednesday feels her own arousal pool heavily in her abdomen as the mattress dips down under Enid’s weight, and their hips make contact. It feels like the anticipatory spark that lights a fuse; the beginning of an icy tumble that brings forth an avalanche. Dangerous, yet so dearly wanted.

“You are on top,” Wednesday remarks, her expression challenging and intense. “But, mi amor, an Addams’ will always end up taking the lead.”

Enid draws in another breath. There is a shudder that she tries to cover.

“I am still familiarising myself, though...but I am known to be a fast learner,” She adds. Wednesday pulls her hands from her sides, bringing them to rest on Enid’s hips as they did in the car. “Like this, correct?”

“Yeah,” Enid sighs out, biting her lip as she smiles.

Wednesday looks thoughtful as she looks up at Enid, her heart pounding away in her chest. She did not notice before how stately Enid looks when viewed from below, towering over her, like a painting in motion. Enid’s outfit consists of a fitted sweater, paired with skirt and thin tights – Through the fabric, Wednesday can see the gentle curve of Enid’s arms, strong and capable, and lower down, Enid’s thighs gently flex as they settle themselves. Though Wednesday could say much about her choice of colour scheme, she is frankly too mesmerised by Enid’s form; how elegant yet dangerous a body like hers is. Wednesday knows there’s a way to go until nudity does not make her insides twist like a snake consuming its own tail – but for a moment, she can at least consider how Enid will look bare…

Wednesday’s mind flashes back to the night of Enid’s werewolf transformation.

Her grip on Enid’s hips tighten.

Enid catches this, smiles, and lowers herself slightly so they’re face to face.

“Watcha staring at?” She husks.

Wednesday does not dignify an answer. She instead brings her head forward, capturing Enid’s lips in a delicate kiss. They start here, mouths interlocking, soft but impassioned; Enid’s hands finding their anchors – one on Wednesday’s jaw, the other gripped on the metal frame of the bed. It’s a beautiful and tender moment that sees their lower bodies gently rocking together, Enid conceding to the achingly slow rhythm Wednesday sets. It is experimental and teasing, with Wednesday noting the gentle hitches in Enid’s breath as she shuffles her position, trying to maintain the kiss whilst looking for relief from the throb between her legs.

After a moment, it seems Enid finds the right spot atop Wednesday’s thigh. She pauses, eliciting a whimper breathed out between parted lips, a sigh caught in her throat. She then settles into the position quickly, eager and ready to hungrily accept each rolling brush of friction. Wednesday takes no hesitation in continuing to rock her leg against where Enid rests, only watching with an intrigued, arousal laden awe. Their bodies roll against one another, lighting striking at each and every graze. Wednesday’s stomach is in knots, her breath catching at the sight of her girlfriend being pleasured in this way. It continues to take Wednesday by surprise how deeply intoxicating this feeling is – knowing all this hedonistic pleasure is her doing, and how right it feels even when put against her touch-averse nature.

Enid rides Wednesday’s thigh intently. She grinds down, breathing shuddered, moaning quiet obscenities under her breath at every pass. She recaptures Wednesday’s mouth, biting gently down against Wednesday’s lip. It’s pleasure, and pain, and ecstasy – sparks riding down Wednesday’s spine like a firework. She writhes as the feeling dissipates through her nerves. It stirs her hips and leg in tandem, causing a few rougher brushes against Enid’s core.

“Fuck, Wends.” Enid breathes out.

There’s a craze in Wednesday’s eyes at this; a carnal look that silently attests to her enjoyment. She keeps her leg gently moving, greedily drinking in the image of Enid climbing to apex above her, any tinge of overstimulation happily parked in her peripheral so long as the focus remains away from her. Though, a curiosity lingers. Wednesday has an itch of her own – one that cannot yet be scratched, but she wonders still.

“Tell me how it feels,” She asks, her voice quiet yet demanding.

“So good,” Enid whispers in between peppered kisses. “So fucking good... Like every little touch is its own wave.”

Wednesday watches for another moment. She senses a growing desperation in Enid, her thighs tensing slightly as she continues to grind and thrust against Wednesday’s leg, searching for more friction, more pressure; more anything – When she finds it, it’s a display of pure delight, bringing forth a moan that hums against Wednesday’s lips. It echoes like delightful crack of thunder through Wednesday’s brain, warning her of the storm that brews in the sky above her.

This only piques her curiosity further. Empirically, Wednesday picks up the intensity, letting Enid set the rhythm now so her leg rises and falls with the rolling pace of Enid’s steepening fervour.

“And now?” Wednesday asks again.

Enid practically purrs at the increased stimulation. The hand on Wednesday’s jaw falls to Wednesday’s shoulder, Enid’s sharp nails digging in through the fabric of Wednesday’s shirt.

Wednesday hisses slightly, non-expectant of the pain nor the slickness she feels now pooling in her own lower region. It’s a sudden thing, a pan flash of erotic agony. It tempts her away from the moment with a chorus of white noise stinging in her ears; a sudden dose of overwhelming reality.

But, Wednesday fights this feeling desperately. She is unwilling – unable, even – to stop now, not when she can feel Enid is so nearly there. This stubborn defiance manifests into action, with Wednesday now intently focusing on everything directly in front of her to keep the world grounded. She brushes her eyes along Enid’s body with its elegant curves; lets her ears ruminate on every breath and sweet nothing Enid produces; allows herself to be consumed by all that is this moment, until the world around herself and Enid all but fades away.

She keeps rocking her lower body to the rhythm of Enid’s hips, dutiful and intent. Enid grinds herself down again, and again, her pace feverish as her breathing begins turning into nothing more than gasps. Enid’s head shies away from their kiss, burying itself into Wednesday’s shoulder.

“Are you…?” Wednesday asks quietly.

“Close? Y-yes.” Enid sighs out. “So so close.”

Wednesday’s hands - having otherwise remained anchored to Enid’s hips - allow themselves to wander ever so slightly. Wednesday is unsure if it’s even the right thing to do, but her fingertips skim down, under the hem of Enid’s ridden-up skirt, settling on Enid’s thighs. Wednesday can feel Enid’s muscles dance under her fingertips, tightening and twitching – and though Enid’s tights remain a barrier between any direct contact, Wednesday’s heart pounds away regardless, dazzled by the sparks that tingle under her fingertips from this near-enough brush with Enid’s skin.

And Enid, with her breath stuttering; body trembling, starts her climax at the addition of this new stimuli. She comes with a final gasp that brings with it a low, heady moan. The noise comes out muffled against Wednesday’s shoulder, and Wednesday lays there frozen as she watches Enid come undone above her. It is moment of pure decadence. It is raw, and heavy, and overwhelming; uncouth in a way that Wednesday would never enjoy enjoy in any other circumstance...but it’s beautiful because when it’s Enid it cannot be anything else.

Enid’s orgasm ripples through her for a few moments. She rides through it, with tense muscles slowing her movements until her hips drag to a stop. Wednesday watches with a hungry intrigue, feeling a level of satiation settle in her stomach, wrapping itself around her own buried desire.

How fascinating it is; consuming, yet freeing all the same.

Enid eventually relaxes, and she collapses onto the bed beside Wednesday with a shaky swing of her leg. She gives Wednesday a gracious moment of silence to settle – and so, she simply lays there, a sleepy pleased smile spread across her kiss swollen lips.

After a second, Wednesday slowly turns her head to where Enid has sprawled, a glimmer of gratification resting in her fond gaze.

They did it.

She did it.

Wednesday quietly marvels at it; at this moment. How bizarre; how subjectively strange it seems to be in such a position right now, and to have gotten here without experiencing the inclination to spontaneously combust.

She glances down to Enid’s resting form.

“How was it, mi cariño?” Wednesday enquires.

Enid pulls herself up. She stretches, planting a quick, chaste kiss to Wednesday’s cheek.

“It was absolutely perfect.”

[aroworlds]

Fiction: The Lies Lovers Tell

For a hundred years, I am bound to a witch’s servitude. I'm not free to be in love. Will you accept this?

Thorn Bloodvine passes hir days trapped in a tower. Well, ze does if "trapped" encompasses "climbing out the window and down the beanstalk whenever the whim takes hir". Magical wards and a wall of brambles surround hir prison, but neither prevents hir from tending hir garden ... or the local youths from raiding hir strawberries. A fearsome witch does dwell within said tower, but hir magic is best suited to creating oversized vegetables. Quirks aside, Thorn laid hir truth at hir lover's feet before they took to bed: ze cannot become Fortitude's partner.

But when Fortitude speaks one simple word, Thorn's carefully-ordered world falls apart. For it isn't just a fairy story that prevents hir from becoming a woman's happily-ever-after.

Contains: A non-binary, allo-aro autistic with a knack for growing strawberries; an aro-ace witch who dons an ill-fitting costume for the sake of her friend; neuroatypical ponderings on love and lovelessness; and a Rapunzel riff that sits uneasily with its lack of happily-ever-after.

Content Advisory: This story references a background culture of cisnormativity, heteronormativity, amatonormativity and allonormativity, including the presumption of one's possessing a binary gender, experiencing sexual and romantic attraction, and marrying or having long-term partnerships with someone of the other binary gender. It also includes an abundance of love mentions, examination of the expectation to love, and reflection upon the sex negativity concerning the word "lover" as an euphemism for "sexual partner".

Please expect depictions of kissing, embracing and physical intimacy, along with non-explicit sex mentions and references to sexual interest.

Length: 3, 759 words.

Thorn Bloodvine drops the last potato into hir basket, brushing clods of damp earth from hir fingers. Only the omnipresent thrum of insects—bees, attracted by pots of pungent basil—reaches hir ears, but ze again cranes hir head to look above. The squat tower wears a crown of lichen-splotched slate and a robe of beanstalks, the leaves so thick that only slivers of granite peek through their green lushness. Coiling tendrils obscure most of the third-floor balcony from below, but the tortoiseshell cat perched upon the crumbling wall suggests hir lover yet slumbers: Dog only allows Thorn the grace of revealing his existence.

“Good,” ze whispers, turning to yank a dewy tuft of grass from hir bed of beets. The sun isn’t yet high enough that ze expects Fortitude to awaken, but caution is never unwarranted. While curious folks soon realise that ze tends the garden’s neat rows of lush crops and brown loam, amongst other chores concerning the tower and its grounds, Thorn doesn’t care to explain everything about hir life or hir abilities.

Like the vine coiled around hir ankles, throwing out bright yellow flowers that bloom for mere breaths before swelling into green-striped fruits—one pumpkin already as large as Thorn’s fist.

“Let go, you!” Ze grabs at the vine, flooding power into the tendrils weaving themselves about hir knee. “She mustn’t see this, so behave yourself!”

The vine withers and browns; Thorn pulls hirself free in a mess of crumbling leaves. Bloody pumpkins! Ze snatches up the basket, shaking hir head, and runs for the garden gate lest ze be caught again. Given the opportunity, any plant will feed upon hir magic, flourishing in hir presence as though ze is bright sunshine following great rain. Squashes, however, run amok given the slightest contact. As for beans … well, ze didn’t mean to live in a tower supporting a score of gargantuan beanstalks!

Better to pretend it a demonstration of a witch’s fearsome powers, even if only Thorn risks entanglement via enthusiastic vegetables.

Not that such magical displays keep out the villagers. Even the wall of blackberry brambles surrounding tower and garden—as thick as ze is tall, albeit not very—serves more as enticement than barrier, ending hir dream of keeping meat on Dog's plate by marketing berries. Unlike birds and insects, eager youths resist the usual discouragements of chimes, scarecrows, companion herbs, dusting and netting. Some even bypass hir warding spells wrought of coloured threads and painted stakes!

Sure, ze shares the spoils from voracious growers like zucchini, a plant requiring only moderate weather and general apathy to feed an army. But hir tomatoes? The strawberries ze lets feed upon hir magic out-of-season, so their sweet, red flesh blesses hir tongue year-round? Gods below, can’t they cut some overgrown spinach instead of ravaging hir late-season sugar peas?

I was caught stealing from the witch’s garden, ze says when asked the reason for hir bondage, hoping the chance of a similar fate discourages the pea thieves.

So far, ze reckons this no more effective than the netting.

A short stretch of gravelled path divides garden from tower. A heavy door breaks the northern wall, but Thorn heads for the thickest beanstalk, growing in a bed edged by clumps of onions and chives. White flowers bloom as ze closes hir hand about the central stalk and, more hindered than helped by its coils, steps onto the iron staple hammered into the tower wall. Slender green spears thicken into ripe pods as ze climbs past the shuttered first floor window, moving from staple to vine and vine to staple. Hir power thrums through hir skin, permitting the leaves’ touch but delivering withering spikes to any offshoot snagging hir limbs or hair. After a year of such climbing, feeding and pruning, stalks of unnatural thickness and longevity twist their way up the wall, anchored by staples, brickwork and instinct.

A crumbling stone lip, mostly cloaked by leaves, surrounds the narrow balcony. Thorn heaves hirself and the basket over the stonework, startling hir wide-eyed cat. Pots and a wooden chair occupy the rest of the space—enough for a few strawberry plants, a turned-over tub for bathing and an early-morning cup of tea, sipped while ze watches dawn’s mist retreat over the fields.

“Sorry,” ze murmurs, scrambling to hir feet.

A rag rug hangs in the doorway between interior and balcony. Inside lies hir room, its rounded walls housing riotous clutter. Objects ordinary, like a four-poster bed with a clothes chest at its foot, and objects extraordinary, like a shelf of narrow boxes holding cotton skeins in hundreds of shades. Bundles of herbs dangle above the table where ze prepares hir meals; bolts of linen, wrapped in paper against dust, lean against the sideboard. Another metal tub, the inside stained red-purple after a dye experiment ventured in unexpected—and unrepeatable—directions, sits beside an armchair holding an empty scroll frame and a pillow in a polka-dot slip. A standing frame, positioned in the centre of the room beside a stool holding hir workbasket, displays hir tapestry in progress: short-and-long-stitches worked in variegated browns, soon to become tree trunks. Despite Thorn’s lavender-scented soaps and hir liking for mint tea, everything smells annoyingly of onion.

Ze knows ze dwells in a chaos of chipped mugs and worn furnishings. It is, however, hirs. A sanctuary from a world dangerous and unpredictable, where most days possess a rhythm around chores and work as regular as the sunrise. If ze knows where to find hir needles and passes most evenings with a cat-warmed lap, Thorn can claim security.

Even happiness, these last months.

Ze sets the basket on hir table, blinking as hir eyes adjust to dimness from sunlight, before crossing to the washbasin to scrub clean hir hands. If Fortitude agrees, they may have just enough time for another go in bed…

“You rise early, lover.”

Thorn startles, knocking hir bar of soap into the water.

“And you jump!” Fortitude raises her head, grinning. Sprawled naked across rucked sheets, the blacksmith is all strength and muscle: broad shoulders, wide hips, powerful thighs. Forearm calluses and scars, rough and raised, signal adventures with hammers, pincers and blades. Copper hair, seldom let down, falls into loose ropes over the small of Fortitude's back and Thorn's white sheets. Dark eyes dance above dimpled cheeks and cream skin quick to redness, but never has ze seen shyness touch those rosy lips.

Thorn yields to those craft-clever hands as readily as does glowing metal, all ordinary dignities abandoned along with hir undergarments.

“Didn’t I please you into deep sleep?” Fortitude sits, stretching her arms above her head before twisting her hair into a loose knot. “Crime! Were you too polite to mention my failure? Come, I'll try again!”

Dog's demand that ze fill his knocked-over water bowl—by batting at Thorn’s feet—seems too mundane an explanation for return utterance. “Yes—no, I mean, yes, of course you weren’t—ah, yes…? Yes!”

“You know I tease!” Fortitude, laughing, walks around the bathtub and past two crates—a bowed board placed between—holding papers and pencils. Her brown eyes rest upon Thorn’s face, her lips curved upwards. “But even if you don’t, I adore you. Although I hope you’ll forgo your more, ah, creative furnishings after we free you from this tower. Will you, my love? For me?”

She drapes her arm over Thorn’s shoulder, belly brushing rib, hand cupping breast, lip touching lip. Ze shivers, hir body stirring, before leaning into the kiss—the comforting, exciting, easing goodness of another’s touch. How simple will it be to melt into a woman’s embrace, to surrender to her closeness—a love outside the world’s expectations, yes, but scarce different in feeling from that concerning men and women? What if ze submits in pursuit of affection’s bewildering wonderment, passion’s joys told in story and song, a road to happily-ever-after? Contentment lurks in the salt taste of Fortitude’s lips, two new-spoken words and the stalk of a red geranium she now tucks behind Thorn's ear, gifted by a blacksmith after she climbed magic-twisted beanstalks for a night spent in glorious nudity.

For a hundred years, ze said, back when Thorn only imagined how Fortitude’s skin must feel beneath hir fingertips, I am bound to this tower, bound to a witch’s servitude.

Love promises a lifetime's indulgence, if ze only entwines hir vines about the staples of Fortitude’s world—their lives’ merging marked by a marriage band, a cottage, a bed with space enough for two. Why not, when here stands the marvel of a woman who even understands that ze isn’t one, expressing her desires in a way that doesn’t leave hir playacting at hir own genderlessness?

Why not … and Thorn’s stomach surges towards hir throat.

The northern window, facing pastures of tan cattle, reveals a black-clad figure striding along the hedgerow.

“She comes! Across the cow fields. The witch!”

Fortitude bolts for the bed as if fleeing a gaggle of sour-tongued sisters armed with normality's judgemental scorn. No married lord caught in his stablemaster’s bed ever snatched up his floor-abandoned tunic and trousers with such freneticism! Nervousness makes Thorn drop hir stockings and weep over buttons, but Fortitude’s hands never quiver as she tucks underthings into her belt pouch and laces into her boots. By the time Thorn, hir heart a moth beating at its cage of bone, palms the now-rooting stem and reaches the hanging rug-door, even discriminating matrons may reckon Fortitude dressed tolerably for out-of-doors.

“Am I safe to go out this side?”

Dry-mouthed, Thorn nods. “Yes. If you wait by the shutters, she won’t see you as she enters. Then you can take the gate. Lock it after!”

Fortitude, her lips crooked into a half-smile, sweeps a bow. “Of course. I must leave, but I’ll return tomorrow.” She leans forwards, grasping Thorn’s smaller hands in her larger ones. Her hoarse voice softens. “I’ll free you. I’ll find a way. We’ll take a home somewhere far from here. Together. I’ll make you all the needles you’ll ever want and a door that always opens. You’ll be free and we can love. I promise.”

What does one say to such a valiant, heartfelt declaration?

“I know,” ze croaks. Fortitude’s slow kiss, her soft lips brushing Thorn’s earth-scented knuckles, brings tears to hir eyes. “Please go!” Ze gathers the rug with hir free hand, sunlight’s bright shaft leading the way outside. “She must be at the door—go, go!”

With agonising slowness, Fortitude raises her head, blows Thorn another kiss and darts onto the balcony. Dog hides behind two pots, only the tip of his twitching tail visible; Fortitude takes a running stride and leaps onto the tower wall. Leaves rustle and beans scatter as she descends, hand over hand down the beanstalk, to land with a thud atop an unlucky patch of purple-flowering chives.

Below, the click of a turning key precedes a second set of feet pattering up stone stairs.

Thorn lets the rug fall closed, hir fingers trembling about the geranium’s stem. Now what? Ze can’t let Fortitude embark upon a doomed quest for hir freedom, but that leaves one other solution—the sort of conversation that shatters relationships upon hate’s rocky reef. Why, oh gods, why? Ze sucks in a shuddering breath, unable to do anything more than fight hir tears and wait for the door set into hir tower room floor—a creaking hatch of studded wood and rusty hinges—to admit the witch.

“Did she make it out safely? With all the rushing and climbing, I worry she’ll turn an ankle. I would, although I don’t know why I’d be fleeing someone else’s bed…”

A lanky, cherry-haired woman in clunky boots, wide skirts and a faded-to-dark-grey cloak places a large basket on the floor before untying said cloak and hanging it from a hook Thorn more often uses for hanks of undyed cotton. A black-and-white rat sits upon her shoulder, its nose twitching as its beady eyes survey the room.

Ze slumps to the floor, a torrent pouring down hir cheeks as the moth inside hir ribs expands to a body-cramping, breath-stealing monster.

“Oh, no. Did she…?” Ember hurries over, her brow furrowed. Tall and delicate, with long eyelashes and high cheekbones of the sort Thorn’s sisters tried to emulate with cosmetics, to hir eye she never quite manages fearsome. Her velvet bodice, bone pendant and phial-adorned belt look more fanciful than threatening. Even boots burdened with an array of chains and buckles beneath a skull-embroidered cloak fail to reinforce illusion, for beneath the costume a middle-aged woman with crinkly umber skin and a halo of cloud-soft hair possesses readily-smiling lips. A woman, more comfortable in a patchwork apron and knitted shawl, who forever smells like cloves and favours pastry over potions. “She didn’t say she…?”

In other circumstances, the truth needs no embellishing: Ember Fireheart owns power enough to horrify those who don’t quail at bones and chains.

Magic is a poor tool for anything short of enforcing dominion.

Alas, lies seldom work better.

“L—loves?” Thorn nods, hir throat too tight for easy speech.

Ember sinks into a pool of black linen and clinking chains, leaning her head against Thorn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says, tugging a handkerchief from her bodice and pressing the scalloped cloth into hir hand. “I’m so sorry. I hoped, this time, this way, it would work out. I hoped…”

So did Thorn.

“She … she looked at me. Like she was building her world around me, her future, her everything…” Ze raises the handkerchief to catch an unfortunate glob of snot, shuddering. So simple a phrase! A look, ineffable and indefinable—yet capable of stripping Thorn of hir very self, leaving hir with naught to do but ghost someone else’s story or shatter the contentment ze thought they had wrought. “That’s worse than the words! I told her at the beginning that we can't court, live together, wed … but no, no. All this didn’t keep her from falling in love! She’s making promises to someone trapped by a witch!”

For a hundred years, ze said to Fortitude in the wake of too many bed-venturing friendships shattering beneath the weight of caught feelings and blooming anticipations. I’ll risk a lover, but having a wife, sharing my life with you, is impossible. I’m not free to be in love. I can’t love you. Will you accept this?

Only after Fortitude’s agreement did Thorn give her the key to the blackberry gate.

Parts of hir tale aren’t falsehoods as much as the careful twisting of words. Ember, truly a witch, is first a friend willing to masquerade as villainess upon her visits. Thorn considers hirself beholden to a witch’s bidding—hirs—even if hir trips to local villages to buy thread and meet people don’t merit the word “escape”. Nor can ze become the partner Fortitude desires! The rest, though? Lies mimicking tales of dangerous women in the hope such threats prove a wall too steep for love to climb.

Few people accept hir word when ze says that ze cannot live beneath a shared roof.

Romance. Naught to Thorn but fanciful stories told to children so they learn to want the well-travelled path—a narrative at odds with the ways that people demanded hir relationships bow to communal and familial expectations, romance’s trappings becoming nothing more than surface pleasantries. Love feels no different: an ill-defined word used to pressure and obligate, one shoehorned into any circumstance but honoured above all despite—or because of—its vagueness. Together, they threaten any chance at intimacy, because ze needs a lover with a life and space remaining their own—a necessary sanctuary, at least for Thorn, from a loud world where other people’s needs are reckoned more vital than hirs.

Oh, ze knows hirself selfish! But no matter hir honest explanations, Thorn’s lovers come to expect something hir barren heart can’t feel and hir straightforward mind can’t mimic … and now even tales of a formidable witch garbed in black and wearing bone don’t dissuade them otherwise.

Mayhap hir relationships wouldn’t require deceit if ze knew a polite word for someone’s connecting with another for a sexual friendship, a word that—unlike “lover”—isn’t clad in romantic assumptions. A word making hir desires normal and ordinary. Can ze rightly condemn Fortitude for falling in love, two words used to mean the hope for a lifetime’s happy togetherness, when lover renders their sex less shameful? Coin seems to dirty such pursuits, to the point of offering insult, justifying scorn or devaluing labour, but isn’t the simplicity of a transactional approach cleaner than this tangle of invention?

Love.

A hundred tower-trapped years, betimes, seems a kinder curse.

“I wish,” Ember murmurs, squeezing Thorn’s hand, “that I could be that kind of woman for you. Someone who wants and doesn’t want.”

Thorn, struggling to halt hir sobs, shakes hir head. It’s kind of Ember to say as such, albeit in that absurd double-talk people do where voicing a wish for the impossible serves as polite commiseration, but ze knows it untrue. “No. You don’t have to lie. You don’t wish to be anyone’s bed-partner. You don’t look upon people that way—don’t even want to want to. You shouldn’t have to.”

Ember sighs, her face stiffening. “It would be less awful, I think, than to watch someone I love hurt. Wouldn’t it have to be?” She swallows. “I—this is all pointless, words chasing words and leading nowhere. I just wish I knew of some way to help. Something better than to say, again, that I’m sorry. Because it feels so useless.”

Thorn looks down at hir damp-kneed trousers, hating the terror provoked by that one powerful word. Ze knows Ember doesn’t love hir in any way suggestive of romance or partnership! Ze knows love encompasses a wealth of feelings that don’t always promise a life subordinate to its expectations! Fear grips hir muscles nonetheless, for even non-romantic love oft demands reciprocation. Love? How can Thorn parse the mystery of what ze feels or why if applying a word possessed of countless contexts? One may as well say that they like colour—which? Bright or dark? In what combinations? How does ze use a term cursed with myriad interpretations when ze too often misinterprets others? Or witnesses it used to paper over cruelties, rendering them justifiable in the name of that which purifies indecency?

This discomfort makes hir heartless or unkind—even cruel—to those who love and believe themselves owed love. While hir lips speak untruths about witches, towers and bondage without more than internal unease, that incomprehensible word dissolves into stuttering syllables whenever forced to hir tongue.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I’m grateful,” Thorn says slowly, “for your many kindnesses to me, and I’m glad that you’re my friend and let me be yours. And I feel … happy-sad...? That someone cares about my being happy … and I don’t want you as my lover. Your being you, someone with whom I can be honest, is more important. So much more.” Ze blows hir nose, afraid to meet Ember’s eyes. “And I … I thank the gods below that you like to bake pies, because I have so many pumpkins…”

Ember laughs and shifts her arm, tugging Thorn into a gingerbread-scented embrace.

“Is that enough? Even though it isn’t���?”

“You don’t have to feel as I do,” Ember says, her voice unaccountably solemn. “And I like that you’re precise in how you name your feelings. I know where I stand with you.” She laughs again. “Do you have pumpkins? I brought you coin from your sales, yesterday’s bread and my last pie, so I’ll take anything you have—and on the subject, will you send for me when the blackberries ripen? Everyone wants my berry tarts!”

Why can’t this be enough? A home of hir own, a friend who ferries Thorn’s tapestries to city vendors so ze needn't be plagued by noise, more vegetables than any one person can eat, space enough to organise hir threads, a view over the valley? Here, ze possesses privacy, connection, understanding and peace. Ember even shares the pain of the world’s pressure to partner and wed, romantic love the shape granted highest value—and the strangeness bestowed upon them by others from their inability or unwillingness to oblige.

It isn’t, though, because Thorn’s fantasies of contentment include one thing more.

A lover who, knowing a romantic partnership outside of possibility, won’t delude herself that time turns green love’s fallow field. A lover who, like Thorn, doesn’t love or wish to be loved, but wants companionship in bed—even a bed-friendship, as long as they needn’t entwine their lives wholly about the other. A lover of a kind for whom Thorn has no simple word, a phantasm existent only in hir dreams.

Why must ze fixate on the vanishingly rare? Easier to be a princess in a tower, grateful for a suitor’s valiant rescue; easier to deem the wonders ze owns enough to reckon hir ending a happy one. Easier, as Ember said, to want hirself to desire outside hir nature than to sit with the helplessness of a problem without solution—but Thorn can’t make hirself keep house with Fortitude any more than Ember can make herself become anyone’s lover.

They possess only cruel honesty … and a life waiting to be lived after ze picks hirself up off the floor, washes hir face and puts the kettle on the hob.

What then?

Thorn looks down at the geranium flower, half a dozen white roots protruding from its stem. Fortitude sees two people stitching their lives together until their tapestry cannot be unpicked without cut threads and hole-riddled fabric, once-intact materials rent through separation. Perhaps Thorn can pretend away Fortitude’s hopes, but will ze overlook the disregard for hir claim that ze won't be her partner? Can ze ignore Fortitude’s pretending away of Thorn’s clear wishes as unimportant?

Another dreadful conversation, then.

Another lover lost.

So be it.

Ze draws a shuddering breath, sets the flower on the floor and blows hir nose on the sodden handkerchief. “I picked you a basket this morning, but I’ll go down and get you pumpkins—and the barrow to take them home.” While Thorn owns no great skill in reading the meaning behind expressions, ze sees nothing in Ember’s crinkly eyes but kindness. “Thank you, always. Have you tried making a pie with beans? Or anything with beans…?”

This isn’t enough.

It is, though, all Thorn has … that and hope’s comforting lies.

[writingonesdreams]

Summary: The gang meets the person that will or won't authorise their dragon management licence. Intro to Cameron, the man who can read the mind reader.

Author's note: Very strong inspiring scene. Who is Cameron, what makes him special and how he can hit Skye right in the feels.

Snake Charms

They have all been nervous about this day.

The department for dragon management should send an expert to verify their licence. The person should go over their “headquarters”, see their interactions with dragons and how they were “stored” and accompany one of them on a mission to see how they could deal with a wild dragon on the ground. 

All reasonable concerns from what Skye could see. 

As expected, Hal was nervous. He didn’t really interact with people outside of them and anyone from the “outside” who was not to become a student made him suspicious and paranoid. His unease was buzzing in her head like a swarm of bees. He couldn’t even keep his aura in check, since he had to hold the Islands down. Outsiders usually only came to the one chosen Island, where the ground purposefully disconnected from the most sensitive parts of the Islands’ collective consciousness as per their deal with Hal. For visitors and newbies that came for testing. Only after passing this simplified inner harmony tester, could they set a foot on the actual Islands under controlled safe conditions. 

But this guy had to see their school and how they operated, without becoming a member. Getting a look at how they lived and worked, an unspeakable intrusion for Hal, especially since the person’s intentions and inner harmony couldn’t be tested by the Islands. Hal huddled in his big black coat, not even hands visible, black hair hiding most of his youthful face in a shadow, green eyes glowing a little too much. At least he seemed scary rather than scared. Great talent.

Leander refused to show any sign of discomfort, opting for a black shirt and his favourite leather jacket. He was sprawled on the couch, his screaming relaxation a little too forced to be natural. Zephyr didn’t pretend not to take it seriously, wearing a nice fitting suit, black curls neatly combed back and sea green eyes earnest and calm. When she got nervous from Hal’s disturbed emotions or angry about Leander’s expectedly unreasonable attitude, she just looked at him and calmed down. 

Skye didn’t want him to him know she needed calming down. So she spend choosing a blouse and a blazer today with exaggerated care. And she actually put a lipgloss on, oh the drama. It was illogical to be nervous about this. If she felt confident and prepared, then nothing could go wrong today and fear would be just getting in the way and undermining her belief in what she knew and worked on. 

On the other hand, not feeling fear felt like a terrible dare of fate to make things go wrong. 

She wished she could be so internally calm like Zephyr. He was the picture of perfection and professionalism and he would certainly manage to be polite and friendly and welcoming without trying to win any favours or licking anybody’s boots. Why were the rest of them even there? Best case scenario, Leander would be bored, Hal would be afraid and she would just be in the way. 

But letting him do this but also be a kind of admittance of incompetence, wouldn’t it? What, she wanted to leave him to do all the work? When it came to organising and making decisions about the academy, the subjects, the programm and the research, they let her decide. Or more like no one else was taking over, so she did and it felt good to be her own boss in these things. So she occasionally freaked out whenever she was doing the right thing for everyone and spend embarrassing amounts of time researching other schools, but that was a normal learning process, no?

She still wished that someone knew to encourage or compliment her, reassure her she was doing a good job at things. Or like, showed appreciation. Ugh.

Skye hated that feeling. That need for appreciation from others. It was so low and primal and emotional and stupid. She should be able to give herself everything, without depending on flimsy moods and unfairness of others. They couldn’t appreciate her part anyway.

And then the guy walked in through the door. 

He had messy chocolate brown hair, long enough to frame his face almost to his chin and with bangs stylishly falling into his forehead. Wearing a sand-coloured trench coat and a balck vest over a light blue shirt that highlighted his baby blue eyes, Skye got the impression he knew how to dress to impress. A guy who cared about his visage. That wasn’t a good sign.

He strolled in with a confident, almost cheerful step and offered them a toothy smile. “Hello, dragon school. Hah,” his gaze washed over them in a quick judgmental sweep, “I sure expected a bunch of old dudes. This is a nice surprise.” He winked at her.

“My name is Cameron Blake. Your future career now depends on whether I like you or not,” he grinned.

A stunned silence followed.

Skye could only manage confused blinking. Fortunately, Zephyr only smiled and shook his hand, like that wasn’t an absolutely outrageous thing to say. 

“Nice meeting you, Mr Blake. I’m sure we will be able to show you how reliable our dragon management is,” Zephyr said, unshakable control and perfect save as always and proceeded to introduce them all while she was trying to hide her outrage and nod politely to keep up with the rhythm of the conversation. 

They sat down on the blue sofa in the conference room opposite their guest. 

“So, tell me something about yourselves. And let’s start with the girl, I’m not really interested in a bunch of guys, no matter how young.” Cameron turned to her again, with such indulgent plain gleefulness, she wanted to slap him. She looked around her at the guys, wishing someone would call him out already. 

“Careful, buddy,” Leander growled, “she is taken.” He pointed at Zephyr, who was still a picture of calm perfection, looking on with a passive face.

“Oh really? And he needs you to speak for him?” Cameron smiled. “Kinda hard to take any of you seriously.”

Leander jumped up from his seat. “Alright, I’ve had it with you, you little-”

Zephyr stood up quickly to physically prevent Leander from hurling himself on Cameron…who seemed to have perked up with the escalation and leaned against the couch with crossed legs. “You shouldn’t talk like that to the guy your licence depends on, buddy.”

In that instant she also felt a sting of anxiety and barely held back rage from Hal, piercing her brain so strongly her forehead wrinkled. If Leander didn’t break him in two, Hal would. 

This was going nowhere. And the impossible guy was even enjoying himself!

Skye took a deep breath and stood up. The pressure in her head made it hard to think and she about had it with her own nervousness. She was so worried about such a jerk!

“I have an idea. What about you boys go and leave us with Mr Important alone,” she suggested. Zephyr and Leander froze in the middle of pushing each other and

Hal stood up and frowned. Are you sure? He asked her in thoughts.

I am. He will be easier to handle without this chaos around. 

Skye also sent reassuring waves Zephyr’s and Leander’s way with some iron underlining to make them go already. She was fed up with the situation and just wanted to let loose on this guy without them looking. 

Zephyr, as always, listened to her. He dragged Leander with him and Hal followed them out. 

When the door closed behind them, she seated herself back opposite Cameron, who now sported a puzzled frown over that neverending grin.

“Oh? That’s bold, even for me. But I’m up for any fun with a cute girl.”

Skye let the sharpness show in her smile. “I won’t tolerate that. We will talk business or we won’t talk at all. And no, I don’t care, if you won’t give me a licence. Maybe you should remember you are on the famous Flying Islands and that they are dying to kick you out, if it wasn’t for me holding them at bay.” 

His eyebrows rose. “A show of power then?”

“That’s what you are here for, isn’t it? To see the power that can be measured with dragons.” 

She touched the mind of the dragons in the garden then. Three were sleeping, but two responded, and eagerly leaped on the railing, shaking the building in process and shoved their heads through the sturdy balcony doors at once.

Cameron, to his credit, didn’t shoot out of his seat or start yelling. But the sight of two young energetic dragons putting their heads through the door and growling with joy did raise him from his relaxed position. His feet landed on the floor with a loud bump as his back tensed, ready to move, if needed. 

He obviously did have experience with dragons and he obviously didn’t feel quite safe in here. Her smile grew more genuine. Good. 

“You are a mind mage,” he said, dazed, eyes not leaving the dragon heads. The red one stretched her scaled neck inside and propped her horned head on Skye’s lap, dagger like teeth flashing in a dragon version of a smile. The blueberry violet one bend her neck above the couch and smelled the air in Cameron’s direction. 

“Impressed yet? Cause our dragons act like overgrown cats around us. They are really misunderstood creatures. Just want to be treated with respect,” she gave him a pointed look at the word. “You know now, why I’m not worried if you will give me the licence that doesn’t cover half of what I can do with dragons?” 

Cameron raised both his hands. “I give up. Yes, count me impressed. I never saw any mage treat a dragon like a cat,” but there was obviously no better word for what the red lady dragon was doing, “and by a mind mage no less.”

At least he didn’t just openly say the mean stuff he thought. He said the good stuff too. 

“Life is hard,” she sighed amusedly, leaning back, patting the dragon on the forehead. “People underestimate me all the time. But mind magic is the most powerful. Especially in my hands.” 

Cameron put his hands down and leaned back again, something like startled amazement on his face. “You are not exactly humble about it.” 

“No one’s gonna believe you,” she said, wrinkling her nose. It felt good, feeling so confident, not having to think her words through, not minding who was watching. Her dragons and magic at display, she completely relaxed for a change. The headache and anxiety were all gone and his open admiration was an unexpected bonus. 

“Let me guess,” he leaned forward. “You are usually playing the shy one, right? Like you did when the others were here? Don’t think I didn’t notice how scandalised you were at my words. But you expected the others to deal with me. Why?” 

“You admit you intended to scandalise me?”

“Oh, I absolutely intended to scandalise everyone. It’s my hobby.” 

She snorted. He was so shameless!

“I did end up dealing with you, didn’t I?” 

“True,” he nodded. “But speaking of that, is Zephyr truly your boyfriend? The serious one?  Cause he was the only one I couldn’t rile up, and by all rights he should have been upset.”

“That’s Zephyr for you. He doesn’t get angry.”

“Wouldn’t you like him to, though? At least, when it comes to you?”

A beat of silence passed. She looked down at the dragon head settled on her knees. She stretched her long snake-like neck all over the floor and settled her body on the balcony. 

“Is this some kind of interrogation?” she said.

“No. But you answered truthfully until now. And you liked it. Why not continue?”

“You dare suggest you know I liked it?”

“I dare suggest you don’t often say all that you would like. And I’m really good at reading people. As a mind mage, you gotta appreciate that.”

She held her tongue. Suddenly it wasn’t so fun anymore. The topic made her heart beat faster and sweat break out on her back. A small but familiar pain settled in her ribcage, right under the heart. 

“How can you stand it, being with such a saint? It must feel like being stretched on strings of perfect self-control all the time. Like being watched and having to watch yourself, to not destroy his impression of you.” Cameron’s voice turned surprisingly gentle.

That touched a nerve.

“What about you, then?” she heard her own voice getting hysterical. “We all wear masks. You came to provoke a fight with your clients, you make jokes and flirt and then get respectful, and then pretend like you care. You change your mask every second, like you have a one for everything.” 

“All the masks are me. I play, stab and pretend, and I change with every person I talk to, but no mask of mine is ever a lie. Just because you are suffocating under yours doesn’t mean they are the same,” he said in that gentle warm tone. Almost comforting. Patronizing.

“Some people shouldn’t be honest," she snapped. "Maybe most people shouldn’t. Who is interested in all the nasty stuff that goes on in a human mind? We don’t say the truth, cause we don’t want to hurt each other. Because it's the only way to get along."

Cameron hesitated. Then he propped his elbows in his knees, and said: "I would like to see your unmasked most nasty side."

Skye wanted to burst into tears. Instead she burst into one of her laughters. It was the kind of hysterics induced cover laughs that didn’t fool her, but usually did everyone else. She wasn’t even doing it on purpose anymore. Somewhere along the line she lost the ability to cry in front of people. Her throat closed up and her eyes were burning and everything was aching, but she was laughing regardless.

Cameron looked shocked, then horrified. He left his safe distance position on the opposite couch and tentatively sat down next to her. No, he didn’t seem fooled.

How unlikely. How rare. How precious was that?

[apoptoses]

To Bring You My Love Armand/Daniel ~2k PG armand hates the subway/cuddling/gratuitous description of how daniel sounds and smells

@rainbowcarousels put the idea in my head to rewrite the subway ride from Pale Shelter from Armand’s pov, just to see how it would be different. Naturally I had to run and do it. You don’t need to have read the bigger fic to enjoy this but I recommend you do so anyways, for extra context.

Also on AO3.

The 72nd Street Metro Station was a monstrous thing.

Armand had a far off memory from his youth of visiting a bee keeper. He didn’t remember the finer details of it, but the experience of seeing the man reach into the wooden box and pull out a panel of honeycomb was one he could not forget. Great viscous globs of honey dripped from the panel, tantalizing and sweet, but what stuck out in Armand’s mind was the bees. The deafening sound of them as they crawled atop one another. It had been difficult to tell where one insect ended and another began, and yet none of them seemed to mind. They stepped on one another without any grace or care, entirely focused on some task the bee keeper had tried to explain. Armand had been unable to take in any of his words. He was too amazed by the swarming, writhing mass before him to hear him.

As he followed Daniel to the gates, subway token in hand, Armand felt as if he were within the swarm.

He would have held on to Daniel’s arm. He was becoming fond of doing that, even though he was perfectly capable of tracking him through any crowd. But Daniel was angry with him. It was understandable, of course- Armand remembered being so unhappy when his master took his leave of him. It was only that he couldn’t bear to explain the necessary steps of keeping Daniel safe.

Daniel had only recently begun to drop his guard around him. Less and less he was thinking about the thing Armand was. If Armand explained to him the necessity of clearing out younger vampires from the city he was in, of hunting them down one by one and dispatching them from their immortal existence and all that entailed, how could Daniel ever look at him and not see him as nothing but a monster? And then the thirst he’d begun to experience around this boy every time he got his heart rate up-

No, Armand could not think of even acknowledging that.

Instead he examined the subway token, a round gold coin not unlike those he’d used to purchase his first set of fine clothes in Venice. There was a Y shape cut out in the middle. He had the passing thought to ask Daniel why, what that meant, but then Daniel was putting his in the slot already. He copied him, watching in fascination as the coin clinked inside the box and the turnstile unlocked to allow him to pass through.

The people around them buffeted Armand about like a ship tossed around on the sea. He kept one eye on Daniel as he scanned the crowd.

Men in business suits. Ladies in bell bottoms and platform heels. Children tugged along by harried parents. A small group of nuns in full habit, chatting as they swept by. A homeless man, asleep on the cold hard floor. A man walking a dog, yes, a dog in this indoor space.

Armand had been in great crowds before, of course. Venice at midday had been a busy place and he’d had to keep the laces on Riccardo’s doublet wrapped around his hand to keep himself from getting lost. But that had been during the day, with the sun shining down and the sea breeze wafting away the smell of humanity. The artificial light within the subway was eerie in comparison. It made the people look like ghouls as they rushed from place to place.

He’d stopped to watch a jazz band play, crammed into the corner, raucous but largely overlooked. Daniel tugged at his sleeve and through the labyrinth they continued.

Together they clattered down the stairs. Down and down and down until they came to the platform at last; that dimly lit, dank place, stinking of sour water and piss. The platform was unbearably crowded. Armand could hardly imagine how they all expected to get on the train, much less where they could all be going.

“Hieronymous Bosch was wrong,” Armand said as they stood at the edge together and waited for the train to come.

Daniel gave him a curious look. “Wrong about what?”

“He painted hell as a fantastical place, lit by fire and full of strange mythical beings. He was wrong,” Armand said. The tunnel had begun to shake. Even the rats down on the tracks scampered to safety. “This. This is hell.”

The train roared like some great beast as it rushed into the station, so swiftly Armand’s hair blew back from his face with the breeze it brought with it.

Daniel laughed and took him by surprise with the way he put his arm around his shoulders. “I imagine most of New York would agree with you.”

The train doors opened. Before Armand could step aside the crowd spewed forth from within the train car, jostling even his immortal form hard enough he stumbled back against Daniel. The car appeared narrow, and covered in graffiti. Armand wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to get in but then he hardly had a choice. People were pushing from behind and he and Daniel were caught up in the current.

Perhaps this was an experience he would enjoy in the afternoon, when he could take in the sights of people on the seats and the tunnels blurring together outside the windows. But now, during rush hour, Armand was in the belly of the beast. People were packed in so tightly he could imagine it would be difficult for a mortal to breathe. It was hard for him to remember to breathe, as unnecessary as that function was for him.

And the sensation of it-

Hundreds of hearts were pounding around them all at once, the sound intermingling with their owners’ thoughts until it was deafening. There was the smell of a thousand different soaps, laundry detergents, aftershaves, all synthetic and cloying. The alcoholic tang of hairspray. The underlying hint of piss and body odor and something herbal that brought Armand straight back to the days he’d spent in a brothel smoking hemp. Around every person an aura burned, colors blending and blurring as they swam before Armand’s eyes.

Armand had learned to tune out his unnatural senses ages ago, but this was a test even for him. He was completely subsumed by the sensory experience of this narrow, miserable train car.

Somehow Daniel pushed them through the crowd. Got them over by the door, where they could lean against the filthy glass. Wrapped one arm around Armand’s shoulders, the other around his waist so that he was held close, protected from the crush.

“I hardly need protecting,” Armand murmured.

A half truth. Against any predator he would be fine, even in close quarters such as this. But against the heaving smells and sounds of the subway car?

Armand needed all of the protection he could get.

“Yeah, I’m aware of that. It’s the rest of the people in here I’m worried for, trust me,” Daniel joked and patted his back.

The doors shut with a dull thud. The monster they were within lurched to life. Around them the crowd stumbled but Armand’s feet stayed firmly planted on the sticky floor.

He couldn’t recall ever having been so close to Daniel before. Certainly couldn’t recall Daniel ever holding him so willingly, but if there was any time it would be a miracle for him to forget his anger and his hesitance around Armand it was this.

Armand rested his cheek against Daniel’s sternum. Slipped his arms around his waist and closed his eyes. Let himself drown in this boy as the rest of existence faded away into the background of his mind. 

Once Armand had found the smell of cigarettes acrid. He’d hated the smoke, the nicotine that stuck to the works of art around him and stained everything hazy yellow. But in coming to know Daniel he’d come to find it a comfort, sharp and familiar as he buried his face in his t-shirt and inhaled the remnants of his evening cigarette. It blended with the smell of the cologne Armand had found for him; the cinnamon and clove and frankincense. A smell that took him straight back to old Venice, that he’d searched so hard in the dark department store to find.

You’re using the aftershave I left for you.

Yeah, well. Waste not want not, that’s what my mom always said.

Armand hardly meant to nuzzle against Daniel like some desperate housecat. It was only that he couldn’t help it, not when Daniel rested his chin atop his head and stroked his shoulder.

He was so warm. The quiet rasp of his breathing joined the rhythm of the blood that rushed through his heart. Daniel had eaten something for dinner and Armand could hear the wet gurgle of digestion within him, an old and unfamiliar sound that was delightful to his ear. Armand curled his fingers in his shirt and pressed his cheek harder against his broad chest. 

Above him Daniel was wondering if he’d ever been held or comforted as a child. If maybe that was why he didn’t do such things for Daniel without being begged.

It felt as if a fist had clenched around his heart. Armand had hurt this boy and yet here he was, sheltering him from the torment of the subway. Daniel was truly better than he deserved.

His violet eyes met Armand’s in the smudged glass on the door. Armand, unable to hold his gaze, squeezed his eyes shut. He would do better. He had to do better. Daniel had no idea how much he’d come to mean to him these past months, that Armand was considering breaking every vow he’d ever made to himself just to have him for the handful of years that was a mortal lifespan. For now that he had been held in Daniel’s arms how could he not seek this out every night from this one forward?

The subway train was beginning to slow. Armand could barely hear the squeal of the breaks above the pounding of Daniel’s heart.

He kept his eyes closed as the doors opened and let Daniel guide him to step back from the rush of people exiting the car. A new flood of humanity got on. Around them the sounds and smells shifted with this new jumble of commuters but Armand paid them no mind. He was safely enclosed in his little space between Daniel’s chest and the cold metal door; in the familiar and wonderful experience of him.

“How much further, Daniel?” he mumbled.

Daniel stroked over his arm, up and down, again and again. His heart picked up when Armand turned his face and rested his forehead on his clavicle. When he swallowed Armand could hear the wet click of his throat. 

“Seven more stops and then we’ll be there.”

I should have just gotten in the car with him, this is a pretty shitty way to travel even for someone who’s curious about anything and everything.

Armand inhaled deeply and ran his hands up beneath Daniel’s jacket. They came to rest on his shoulder blades, fingers spread out as he tried to gauge the width of them. Daniel was so delicate and yet so strong. For the duration of this subway trip Armand could pretend he was mortal again, just a young man curled up in his lover’s arms.

The subway was a perfectly pleasant way to travel, Armand decided. Seven stops could not pass by slowly enough.

[spotlightlowlife]

Helluva Boss has responsibility issues - Ozzie, Bee and Mammon edition

These characters have a job which is to govern over and make business out of a designated part of the psyche, one of the seven deadly sins, but it goes further than a job, they're world leaders and their role is their purpose.

What do they do day in day out?

They have fun.

If they're there to be liked that is.

Bee is a great rep for gluttony

Her design is nice, she looks fun, youthful and vibrant and I appreciate that she's not large or lazy. Many people agree, she represents the positive aspects of gluttony in having fun and indulging yourself with the company of others, eat drink and be merry, something she gains from.

Unfortunately it seems that in order to be liked, she had to be diluted.

Bee, prince of gluttony, got humbled by losing a drinking contest to Blitzø who is half her size and a tiny fraction of her true size. Bee then disassociated herself from overindulgence by seeing that Blitzø was going overboard early and wanting that issues dealt with at a distance not by her.

She claims he's ruining the vibe but does this cut off her supply? Ruin her stock? Does it snap people out of their enjoyment? Who knows, she got pushed as 'nice' so her observation so far is probably from a caring place, not a business stance.

Ozzie is a good representative for lust

Sex positivity is good. Like eople should be able to indulge enjoy, as should multiple people, they should all be having a good time. Shaming a lovey lovey couple for lowering the tone at his lust themed club was something he had the right to, even though love and lust can easily go hand in hand and he clearly caters to anyone interested in kink, it was reasonable (and well written humor) to want them to take that outside.

Where they cutting off his lust supply?

Where they potentially off putting for others?

Who knows, but Ozzie's push of anti-love whilst clearly being in love, served as an excuse to loveably humble him.

He could had he been business minded and had both separately, but it seems that business = bad, which leads on to...

Mammon is an excellent representative of greed

Business and greed got merged into one, there are definitely 'positive' aspects to business and therefore greed. Such as professional distance, going where the money is, trying out different leadership strategies moving with the times and welcoming the new.

This character was able to reveal little of his personal views, but enough to know that he disproved of certain things but would still put in the work in their direction, such as beauty pageants and sxxdolls, however he was able to adapt them to suit himself and everyone, a clown pageant and a multipurpose dolls. It was all about supply and demand for profit.

He set up the pageant for anyone to enter, nobody in mind, he was rather transparent in what the plan was too. Knowing what we know of how profit driven he is, his discouragement of female entering could easily have been more than an excuse to add the Viv credit joke based on sales forecast, yet it was a remark he went on to take back. Through the pageant he wasn't opposed to Fizz losing and fresh meat taking over. He was however opposed to Fizz not putting in the work.

It's debatable that he lacks self awareness because we have already established that this character sets person feelings aside and just wants business to run, furthermore, for all we know Fizz may be bringing hesitation for the first time this year. It makes sense why he's willing to let Fizz voice hatred for him aslong as he keeps up being milked until dry.

A lot like many employers in hospitality (a reminder that Fizz was also fed up in this area) and entertainment.

Mammon stepped into the ever triggering parent role and numberours of them, referring to the future pageant winner as 'stepkid', Fizz as a 'son' and 'grand baby', firmly asserting himself as a leader who commands respect which isn't entirely bad, all whilst behaving like a strict stage parent from the very beauty pageants he criticizes, and why? Because it's effective maybe? Like it or not we saw his shows go on to be a massive success.

In the real world we have things widely and rightfully condemned like low grade junk food and cheap clothes, only at the same time as some fat cat getting richer pushing poor quality, these goods are being made accessible to those with little who can't afford better. A greedy business person person who wants more customers likely doesn't care that they are doing great harm or help.

Looloo land was a good example of corporate greed big business that people benefit from, like it or not. This place was easily accessible and the workforce were anyone.

Mammon protected his rip off inspired work with a contract so tight that the leader of hell can't do anything about it.

A complex contract is something we would see again with fellow villain and successful gangster businessman Crimson.

Blitzø on the other hand is not failing because he's their opposite which is 'good', he is failing because he is a very proud, arrogant individual who wants his idea to just work, there's little wiggle room. It was Moxxie who would learn in the episode where he was allowed to lead his own mission that a 'my way or the highway' attitude can bring more issues than solution.

Back to Moxxie. When his very greedy and sinister dad was ready to use him for a business deal that would involve an arranged marriage, he tried superficially winning Moxxie over by rigging the house with dildos, assuming he must enjoy stuff like that.

This guy objectified and forced the hand of his own adult child with zero interest and regard.

Yet did we have to see Mammon being made to rebuke these behaviours and let us know there's limitations to his greed? No, he didn't need to tone down.

Only 'greed' is held to accountability

The higher ups have to be humbled in order to be liked, the only ways seems to be to have a place themselves alongside and have sexual relationship with those at the very bottom of society

and not be responsible for the negative aspects of what they govern over are.

All the fun and non of the responsibility

As covered, Bee and Ozzie who we had to learn are believers in knowing your limits and consent, are nothing to with any trouble associate with them that follow,

ws. so whilst Crimson provided excellent groundwork for Mammon with his greed and making a loved imp sad, there have been two missed opportunities to passively pad out Ozzie and Bee.

Verosika the sucubus SA Moxxie with her gang, they shapeshifted into cute humans to come to earth and host a sucubus hosted beach party, to corrupt a bunch of youths. Verosika would also be revealed to be an addict, along with Barbiewire. Verosika would travel to earth with beeljuice which caused a massive scene.

Barbie shape shifted into a human, travelled with Ozzie's crystals (something Stolas as high up as he is had to request) and seduced a teenager into helping her push drugs.

But it's not Ozzie nor Bee's issues, they don't associate with the negative aspects of what they rule over.

Two side characters are pushing frowned upon over indulgence and degeneracy amungst kids on earth.

In a story where the parent story tells us that there's a hell overpopulation problem.

An issue that is dealt with via genocide and the mess left behind in the form of devine weapon parts, can slay the higher ups!

But that's not Ozzie nor Bee's issues?

[orlissa]

Writing Pattern Game

Tagged by the lovely @aloveforjaneausten

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

Okay, counting the ten last published (instead of ten last updated) stories, as per my AO3 page:

Nadya was only two when she became a big sister for the first time. 

Birds and Bees and Tactical Evasion

We crossed the Channel this afternoon—as beautiful and amazing the Continent was, it is good to be back on English soil.

The Young Wife's Journal

When they made the Grand Palace their home after their successful coup, Aleksander made sure to have a bedchamber of his own established—not because he intended to have it see much use (he really had no desire to spend his nights away from Alina), but because he was well aware of the fact that even in the most perfect marriage there are instances when a husband might find himself exiled from the marital bed.

What's in a Name?

It’s after his ill-fated visit to the capital, and he is back with Alina—in mortal danger and on the run, but with her, and he should be happy, but it’s… different.

Echo of What Never Was

The late September storm raging outside, the fire cracking inside the Vezda Suite, him sitting on the sofa in his shirtsleeves, Alina lounging next to him, her legs in his lap—that was his new reality, the way he spent his evenings now. 

An Artist's Vision

It starts out like a cautionary tale.

Out of the Woods

This is so not his scene.

Utterly Delicious

It was quiet.

The Rites of Youth

István Jankovich was a proud and happy man—some people might have scoffed at what made him proud and happy, but he couldn’t have cared less about that. 

Something Sweet

It all started with a new invention from the Fabrikators’ workshop: a two feet long, one foot high mahogany box with an oversized, brass horn on top of it, that could play back sounds— somehow —recorded on a cylinder.

Modern Times

Insights: - I tend to either start with a very short or a very, very long sentence - If the story is part of a greater narrative, I try to give enough information in the first sentence for the reader to place the story in the continuity - If I start with a short sentence, it is to pique the reader's interest, making the curious - The POV character is not always clear from the first sentence

That's all I can come up with right now :'D

I don't know who hasn't been tagged, so feel free to consider yourself tagged :)