#⸻ CHOOSE LOVE NOT IN THE SHALLOWS | tasks.

[xf-grxmviridicn]

the lure of darkness | event i.

dreadful confusion. it was the first thought, the first sensation to come to mind as the darkness with which cerenia now found herself came into being, enveloping her in perpetual shadow. had she taken a wrong path again? despite her knowledge of the boundary’s existence, just along the edge of the wooded area, gradually creeping forth to swallow all she may hold dear, cera had yet to know a place among them to be so abysmally empty. so devoid of life and feeling. it drew the very essence from her bones, dug into the marrow of her soul — a gnawing, almost painful stirring held in her gut.

⸻⸻ “oh, my little flower! haven’t you any thorns?” it screeched. the gaping abyss which was the monster’s mouth hung open, splits of golden light tearing through the shadows. the entity held out its shadowy tendrils, a steady trickle of black sludge falling to the floor.  ⸻⸻

it startles her, the frightful call from depths she cannot yet bear witness — not until the seeping light that marks its gaping maw shows through horrendously, cera’s doe eyes widening in abject horror as quivering lips struggle to spill the words that catch in her throat. she’s petrified to near silence save for the deafening pounding in her chest, her legs giving out the only sense of action her trembling form can manage right then. she wants to run. to hide in the warmth of safety, another’s arms. but there’s no one there to protect her, to shield her from this apparent nightmare. and in the moment she might imagine anyone at all, the sludge from which they’re born seems to warp and twist them enough to where they're no longer recognized. her sister, her father, the creatures she knew to be kind. they become malformed and mutilated, strange. unknown. she doesn’t want this anymore. the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, something like a sob slipping through her lips. much like anything else, it isn’t quite as it should be. she wants to go home. she buries herself in trembling knees, wrapping her arms around them as if they might aid her somehow.

“please .. let me —” her voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. her body felt drained, tired. “ .. let me go home. i want to go home.”

⸻⸻ “deep down, you know that you’ll never free yourself from those woods as long as your mother remains that thing,” it said. “does that thing even recognize you anymore? you can never stray too far, never go off on your own adventures! because in the back of your mind, you know the mortals can round up their pitchforks and torches to slay mommy dearest.”  ⸻⸻

her mother. the word seems to pull her from tears, drag her from despair briefly. whatever this horrid creature wished of her, certainly it wasn’t a spark of hope at the mere mention. she loved her mother, entirely. unconditionally. no matter what became of her, how the woman may hate some part of her, how the woman may curse her. cera’s love would pour through. she would save her. she knew it in her heart. no one would hurt her so long as cera could draw a shred of breath. she couldn’t stand it.

⸻⸻ the noxious ooze bubbling on the floor multiplied in size, mutating into the writhing hydra nora soteira had become. but, each head had the human face of cerenia’s mother. “c...e...r...a?” croaked the monster. the boundary levitated overhead, thrashing in delight above the twisted reunion.  ⸻⸻

the human chimera is repulsive, grotesque down to its very core. cerenia knew, of course she knew .. or believed she did, that this .. thing, wasn’t really the woman who held her, that kissed her goodnight, that showed her the world as she knew it still  .. but it had her voice. and began to hum the very song only she would know, albeit rather distortedly. still, it mimicked her music box completely. how could that be?

“.. mama.” she cries, reluctantly drawing near on stumbling feet, wishing to .. just to be closer, perhaps. “mother! i’m coming, i’m here!” it shifts, falling away from cera, crawling on distorted limbs. “.. mother, please wait. i’m coming, i promise! don’t .. don’t leave —” again. not again. she couldn’t bear it. not again. “m —” just then, as cera might be within reach, another figure draws forth, shooting up from the darkness in a way that has the woodland girl stumbling backwards, landing on her backside in a loss of balance.

staring curiously, the figure doesn’t distort as the others had, holding form enough to actually be known. and cerenia swears, there’s no mistaking him, “eras—” her voice breaks, tears forming again, and the figure shakes its head, a finger to its lips, as if to tell her not to go further. either in speaking or in following towards whatever thing the boundary created. cera finds herself in awe and ever so vaguely annoyed that even her subconscious couldn’t seem to disregard the man, the image of his memory, even as she swears he’s forgotten her entirely.

⸻⸻ “don’t you want to save her?” it laughed. “don’t you want to snip the last thing that tethers you to those wretched woods? or will you really deny your mother salvation, little rabbit? i know that all you’ve ever wanted is to be truly free.”

the boundary approached her again.

“i want … just a piece of you,” it whispered. an outstretched hand reached for where cerenia’s heart should be. “i want it so badly, i swear to grant your wish.” as if stung, the boundary recoiled back. it slowly disintegrated into darkness, leaving her alone in the nightmare where illusions and old memories lurked around every corner.

“won’t you … accept my offer?”  ⸻⸻

she had almost overlooked the beast residing with them still, completely mesmerized by what her mind dared to conjure, until the bizarre creature’s distorted speech ripped through and drew back honey brown hues. its misshapen form and trickling tendrils didn’t seem to alarm her as much anymore, however, a strength found within herself to deal with this figment of nightmare and imagination. even as it thought to approach and nearly touch her, her eyes shutting tightly momentarily and skin crawling at the very attempt.

".. no.” she begins softly, summoning her courage as her uncertainty wavers. “.. no, i won't. i'll find a way, you'll see. i have good people helping me. i won’t need to rely on you.” at this, cera seems to glance towards the shadowy make of her old memory, some semblance of what one could perceive as a smile apparent in their features. as it helps her to her feet and soon dissipates, presumably returning to where it came, cerenia’s focus shifts entirely to the boundary .. or whatever it might be. “now, shoo. go away, you rude, rude thing."

as if on command, the world of darkness distorts and disappears. cera is found on the forest floor, collapsed in a ring of light and curled in, peacefully slumbering and ignorant to the world.

#⸻ CHOOSE LOVE NOT IN THE SHALLOWS | tasks. #event ⸻ #the curious case of the boundary #cag: event

[fallingdownhell]

If polyamory relationship requests are A-OK with you, could I request Al-Haitham and Kaveh with a reader that acts as a mediator between the two.

She's a woman who, despite her soft-spoken and sweet nature, is also rather sharp-tongued and witty when she's in an argument with someone. No matter how many squabbles those two get into, she's always there to settle things.

Many find it odd that two brilliant men like Al-Haitham and Kaveh would want to be someone like reader. Sure, she's got a pretty face but that's it. She's not an Akademiya scholar, or even some genius (in eyes of shallow people at least). She is but an ordinary fish farmer who uses her Hydro vision to cultivate and harvest her aquatic animals.

If only they knew about the love and care these three share (hey that rhymed) with each other.

I hope this turned out okay. I personally don't have any experience with poly relationships, so I hope I did somewhat good with it. Pairing: Alhaitham x Reader x Kaveh Content: female reader (she/her pronouns); polyamory relationship; established relationship; fluff; general relationship headcanons Word count: 830 words Enjoy guys<3

the first impression anyone would get when they'd see the three of you interaction with each other, would often be one of two things

they either think you guys are siblings, or just really, really old friends that go way back together

and they'd be right, at least about the friend aspect

because that's actually how this whole dynamic started out several years ago

you've known Kaveh and Alhaitham for almost half your life now, and as far as you remember, those two have always bickered and you have always been in the middle of it, trying to appease them every time

somewhere along the way, feelings came into the mix as well. If asked now, you couldn't tell who caught feelings for who first, though a certain blonde would still vehemently deny any sort of feelings for his roommate

but behind closed doors, when you're all in the private of your shared home, things tend to be different

to the public eye, it's you who keeps the relationship together. Regulated, if you would. You constantly break up the sassy bickering between Kaveh and Alhaitham, being the voice of reason in any argument

you help Alhaitham with organizing his work papers, sort his books at home, you remind him to eat and drink when he's too focused on a new book again that he forgets to do those tasks himself

with Kaveh, you help him keep track of his approaching deadlines with clients, help him find inspiration for a new project and always lend a listening ear when he needs to vent his frustrations to someone, especially when they involve his nosy roommate again

and in return, the boys support you in your line of work as well. Your job may not be the most noble or important one, but you enjoy doing it, and that's all they need to know in order to support you

they come up with new ways to implement your hydro vision with you, making your job easier for you further and further. Alhaitham tends to do some research on the types of fish you plan on cultivating while Kaveh enjoys to decorate the fish tanks according to their desires on habitats

it's always been a mutual give and take in this relationship, a silent agreement, if you will, that they will always support each other in their doings, even if one or two mean comments will be thrown out there alongside it

if asked what their favourite thing about you is..

Alhaitham's answer is very quick to come, almost like he had only waited for the day someone would ask him that question. He enjoys the way you get passionate about the things you love and enjoy. Even if he's not the most knowledgeable in a certain subject, he can and will listen to you rambling on for hours on end about it, simply because of the way your eyes light up when you get to talk about it

Kaveh says that he likes a lot of things about you, but if he had to choose, then it would be your easygoing, patient nature. No matter how much stress he's currently under, you always have a way to calm him down, make him destress so he can think clearly and logically again. Suddenly, the impending deadline doesn't seem so bad anymore and he's got a clear head again. He could kiss you every time again when you do that, it helps him out so much!

Oh, but don't be mistaken. Just because you're usually calm and relaxed doesn't mean you can't get feisty. Especially when dealing with rather rude people, you tend to loose your temper on them from time to time. Those are the moments where the boys need to let you vent to them, if they want to avoid an incoming hospital bill because you decided to finally act on some of the threats that leave your mouth while in such a pissed off state

when it comes to affection, you and Kaveh are definitely the most cuddly and affectionate within the relationship

Alhaitham often acts annoyed when one of you (or both) asks for cuddles, but he never refuses, either. Most of the time, it's him in the middle of the bed, you and Kaveh plastered on one side of him, cuddling up against him like this

and the scholar doesn't admit it out loud, but he does rather enjoy those cuddle sessions, enjoying the warmth and embrace of the two people he values most in this life

overall, communication is key in this relationship. It happened one too many times that a comment has been taken too far, hurting the feelings of the other too much, so there are now certain rules in place to prevent something like this from happening again

but despite all that, the love you share between you all is clear as day, even to the public eye. They just choose not to comment on it, for their own sakes

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader headcanons #genshin impact x reader headcanons #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x you #kaveh x you #alhaitham x kaveh #kaveh x alhaitham #kaveh headcanons #alhaitham headcanons #kaveh x reader headcanons #alhaitham x reader headcanons #kaveh x reader x alhaitham

[forestshadow-wolf]

I feel like there's a strange kind of intimacy that comes with soap or ghost dying and instead of making it soft they choose to pick a fight or make it hateful so that the other "misses them less". They don't even tell the other what's happening, just start making hateful comments.

I think it's a kind of senseless noble act, based on, perhaps, misguided fear. It's an attempt to make things better.

Maybe simon is shot to hell, couldn't tell the difference between him and swiss cheese except he's just got a few more holes that the dairy product. Maybe it was a solo mission. Maybe he radios base or calls soap on his cell. Maybe when soap picks up he says that he never loved soap. He only dated him because he pittied him. He says that soap is annoying. Says that soap should know when to just stop. And then he ends the call or turns off his radio before soap can respond. And then he heaves a tearful breath once. Twice. And never again.

Or maybe it's soap that's dying. He's tasked to wipe out an unknown enemy base. Maybe the location was actually a chemical lab. And maybe it had barrels upon barrels of accelerants. So when the charges blow the heat and flame and magnitude is far far exceedant of what it was supposed to be. Maybe soap gets caught in it. The flames licks at his arms, and legs, searing his belly. What if he knew he couldn't survive it, he could smell it, between the smoke and burnt skin. What if he calls home and ghost picks up. And he tells him he hates him. Tells him that his father was right. Tells him he deserved everything that ever happened to him. And then he hangs up, and his lungs manage to keep him alive for another ten agonizing minutes. But it's his heart that he thinks kills him, not the burns or his lungs failing.

What if it works, and they get buried in an empty casket lowered into a too shallow grave, with people who no longer respect him.

What if it doesn't work though. What if the other knows immediately that something is wrong. The words hurt but not as much as knowing that something is going wrong and they can't do anything to fix it.

What if... what if they don't die. What if they survive and they have to deal with the consequences.

If they survive they either have to face the fact they they hurt their partner so viscously.

Or they have to face the wrath their angry partner. Either for the things they said. Or for trying to leave them in such a way, or for losing hope, or for trying to give up.

#el rambles #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #cod #cod mw2

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Three)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Part One ⤲ Part Two

Hi! I wanted to get this out sooner but I have a stinking cold and kept falling asleep whilst writing lol. Anyway - enjoy!

@greeneyedivy has been such a massive help with this story so far. Those braincells deserve all the love 😉💋

Warnings: None for this part.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Beron’s announcing the engagement tonight – at the feast.”

Willow glanced up from the belongings she’d spread out over her bed. You’d seen to it yourself that she and her husband got the suite closest to yours. If your sisters were going to be hovering around for the next two weeks, you wanted your favourite one as close to you as possible.

Willow’s blue eyes studied you, her night-black hair rippling like silk as she tilted her head. “And how do you feel about that?”

Slowly, you shook your head from where you stood at the window overlooking the garden. It had been a task, in itself, to break away from the circles of acquaintances gushing over each other, to get some time alone with your youngest sister. She’d spotted you trying to rub the panic out of your chest and had made an excuse to Dion about needing to show you something in her suite.

“I feel…” Your eyes remained pinned on the lawn, bouncing over the people who were chatting and laughing and drinking. All far too wealthy for their own good. All as shallow as one another. “I feel trapped.”

There was a rustle of clothing, and then Willow was by your side, placing a hand on your arm. “I know this cannot be easy for you, Y/N.” She studied you. “But is Dion really so bad?”

You frowned, glancing down at your clasped hands. It wasn’t about whether Dion was the nicest person in the world or as much of a brute as his father. It was about you, your choices – your life. Your freedoms.

They didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“He doesn’t seem bad.” You admitted with a small shake of your head. “From what I can tell so far, he’s…polite. Kind. But I could still be proved wrong. And I didn’t want any of this. I’m not sure I ever even intended to marry at all.”

Your sister continued her appraisal of you. What her eyes were searching for, you didn’t know. But even though she was younger than you by five years…in that moment, she seemed older than you. Wiser. As if, in your situation, she would have just accepted it without complaint.

“I’m the only one who didn’t get to choose.” You quickly said, hoping to nip her thoughts right in the bud. “All four of you did – you, Molly, Clem…even Sara, who can’t choose which foods she does and doesn’t like day-to-day. Father may have made suggestions, but…your husbands were your choices. Not his. And Dion is Mama and Papa’s choice – not mine.”

Willow’s face seemed to change at that moment. A change so quick, it took you a few seconds to discern that her bright, pretty face had been shadowed by something…bleaker. The ever-present light in her eyes winking out slightly.

“Yes. Well.” She murmured, stepping away from your side. She turned her back to you, returning to the items she’d spread atop the bed. “Choosing is not all it’s cracked up to be, I assure you.”

You stared at her – the back of her head. “What does that mean?”

No answer. You may as well have not been there as she separated her clothes from her husband’s, folding them into neat piles to store in the armoire. But her shoulders were tense – stiff.

“Willa.” You used her nickname, striding around to the other side of the bed to face her. “What do you—are you and Isaac not happy?”

“Drop it, Y/N.”

You blinked at your youngest sister; at her sharp, cold tone. The two of you…you didn’t have secrets. At least, you didn’t think you did. Her husband’s estate may have been a bit of a trek away from yours, but you and Willow made the effort to meet regularly. To catch up. And she knew everything about you. Everything.

Yet you could see – right now, she had a wall up. She was blocking you out in a way she never had, and it made your stomach twist with worry.

“Willow.” You murmured gently, perching on the bed. “You can tell me—if things aren’t alright with Isaac. It stays between us.”

Her hands seemed to falter on the shirt she was folding. You watched closely as she swallowed, her eyes tracking the items before her, and then flickering up to meet yours.

“We just…” She shook her head. “We had an argument, that’s all. A couple of weeks ago.”

“Okay, well…all couples argue–”

“He hit me.”

You looked up so quickly, your neck clicked. “Excuse me.”

“He lost his temper…and he hit me. He’s never done it before–”

You were already standing up from the bed. Already feeling a fire igniting inside of you, spreading through you. You were going to hunt Isaac down and deal with him yourself—

“Y/N, no.” Willow hurried into your path, blocking the door. “You’ll make it worse. It was one time, and he said he’s sorry, and he won’t do it again. Things are just still a little…raw. But they’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

“If he thinks he can lay a finger on you and get away with it–”

“He’s not.” Her touch on your arm was gentle. “Believe me, he’s not getting away with it. I’m not making things easy for him. He knows he did wrong, Y/N. Please, just…just keep it between us. Don’t tell him I told you. Please.”

You studied her face – didn’t know whether it was fear or desperation or both that shone in those wild, blue eyes. But whatever it was…it had you relaxing your shoulders, slinking back just enough to be rational.

It would make things worse if you stormed downstairs and confronted Isaac in front of everyone. Not just for Willow, but – but for you, too. You were sure Beron Vanserra wouldn’t appreciate such an outburst. And in front of his cohorts, no less.

“...Okay.” You relented – didn’t like it one bit, as you pressed your lips into a thin line. “ But, Willa…if he tries anything again…”

“He won’t. He won’t. But I would tell you straight away.”

You realised that was going to have to be good enough – for now. But while everyone was keeping their eyes on you throughout this gods-damn festival…you had a new person to mark. You were going to be watching Isaac like a hawk.

Scary, though – that Isaac had only dared to do such a thing once he had a wedding band firmly on your sister’s finger.

It didn’t exactly sell marriage to you any further.

⤲

It was by mid-afternoon that the more interesting celebrations had begun. The idle mingling and chatting around the estate had made way for the attractions that the High Lord had arranged — stalls of games and baked goods and the lilting caress of background music reaching out from across the green.

The atmosphere became easier with the arrival of the lesser fae, the working families. The people — farmers and land workers and pure grafters — that everyone had to thank for there even being a fruitful harvest at all. They turned up in droves, families of giggling, excitable children and their parents, aunts, uncles and older siblings who just seemed to be relieved to be doing something for fun.

You certainly noticed, however, the clear divide. That Beron Vanserra may have invited the lower dwellers of his court – the true backbone that kept it thriving – as a courtesy, a move to make himself look good and honourable – but with no real intention to acknowledge them. The cleave between your world and theirs was evident in the dull, tattered clothing that stood out amongst the gowns and tailored suits of the elite. And the way the noble members of the court watched them closely, judgingly, as though they were a smear on the landscape. As though they didn’t deserve an invite to the Harvest Festival that they had toiled to make happen.

It had you balling your fists at Dion’s side as you floated around, playing the part of the quiet, blushing female perfectly. It was a tad jarring every time he introduced you to someone as his fiancee, or placed a warm steady hand on your back. And not only did you have your family to contend with – their stares as they pretended to be uninterested in you – but Barric, also. It was clear he was acting as escort to your courtship.

He always remained a few steps behind, enthusiastically greeting people as he passed them and pretending to observe the various stalls that were set up. But he walked where you walked, looked at what you looked at — and stopped at the exact same moment that Dion pulled you to a standstill in front of a table where a High Fae female was selling homemade chocolates.

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” Dion asked you, a glint in his eye.

“I do.” You nodded, eyeing the sweets in front of you that admittedly smelled incredible. “Do you?”

“Oh, a terrible one. Chocolate, sweets, cakes — I love it all.” He turned to the vendor, his smile winning and charming as he said, “A bag of the orange chocolates for my lady here, please.”

His lady. It flowed so easy from his lips, like he’d been speaking those very words for years. You waited patiently as the expert chocolatier bagged the sweets up and accepted Dion’s coin in exchange. He fell into conversation with her, chatting and asking questions he seemed genuinely interested in the answers to. And you…you scanned the droves of people, looking for any glimpse of Willow’s husband. You may have promised not to say anything, not to act on your anger, but that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t step a toe out of line—

But it wasn’t Isaac your eyes landed on. You should have been used, already, to the many flashes of red, flowing Vanserra hair around the place. The brothers were all dotted around somewhere, mingling with friends, partaking in the game stalls — but it was the youngest one your eyes found. Lucien.

It surprised you, somewhat, that he was even present. You were unable to stop yourself watching as he stopped at the small, rickety lemonade stand that a group of children were tending. Their clothes were clearly the grubby hand-me-downs that most of the lesser faeries seemed to be wearing, and it didn’t look like any noble members of the court had stopped by to humour them and buy what they were selling. Lucien Vanserra was likely the first.

He seemed to say something teasing, and all of the children broke out into a fit of laughter. And Lucien was grinning…so at odds with the contempt he’d worn when he’d looked upon you on the day of your arrival. He made a show of sniffing the pitcher of lemonade, of commenting on the aromas — and the children were loving every second of it. Hanging off every word. And you may not have been close enough to hear his words over the many voices around you, but you saw the way he ordered four cups of lemonade for himself — handed over one coin for each of the four children that were gazing up at him in pure amazement.

You were so entranced by the scene that you didn’t realise Dion was speaking to you until he was stood before you once more, a chocolate pinched between his fingers.

“Open up.” He smiled broadly. “Taste this.”

You blinked, your cheeks heating just slightly. Your eyes shot to the small gathering of your sisters and your parents, where they stood, sipping from delicate teacups and acting like they weren’t analysing your every move. A tad uncomfortable, you parted your lips and stilled as Dion pushed the small, round chocolate between them.

“Good, right?” He smirked as you took a bite. “They’re my favourite.”

They were good — there was no doubt about that, as you chewed and swallowed. The orange tangy and the chocolate creamy, it was an effort to stop your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“I’ll keep that in mind for Solstice.” You said — and almost blinked at yourself. You’d only been around him for forty-eight hours, and you were already talking about buying him Solstice gifts.

He held your gaze as he lifted his finger to his lips and sucked the remnants of chocolate off.

Clearing your throat, you turned quickly. “Those children are selling lemonade. How about we buy a cup?”

He smiled widely, offering you his arm. “Lead the way, my lady.”

⤲

You’d been primed for this.

It was while you’d been pulled this way and that, moulded into the prettiest, perfect vision for the evening feast, that Barric had joined you in your suite. He’d perched himself on the chaise across the room and detailed every aspect of what you were to expect that evening. Where you would sit, how you were expected to act, even what was appropriate for you to eat.

But most of all — most of all, you were to remember to smile, to look enthralled, while the High Lord officially announced to his court that you were to wed his second-eldest son.

You thought you might vomit before you even made it to the great hall. Because no amount of priming would be enough. You realised that when you approached Dion at the bottom of the grand staircase, your long skirts – and Barric – trailing behind you.

Dion’s eyes flicked over you, alighting with…something…as he took in the dark green gown. He swallowed, adjusting his collar. “...Wow…”

You stepped down from the last stair, your cheeks heating self-consciously. “Does it look ridiculous?”

Your fiance shook his head. “Quite the opposite. You…are a vision.”

From behind you, still hovering on the stairs, Barric cleared his throat. “Shall we go in?”

Taking Dion’s arm, the three of you did just that. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you took in the sight of the room, your eyes searching for where your family were sitting; just beside the top table, where the High Lord and his family lounged.

“You’ll be sitting beside me.” Dion said into your ear. Barric had already informed you of the arrangement earlier, but you felt a second sting of disappointment at not spending the feast beside Willow.

The giant room was full with chatter and the aromas of so many different foods, it was overwhelming. But as you walked past tables, smiling politely at the people Dion greeted, sparing a wave for your own family, two things struck you.

That the spread of food was…exorbitant. A feast, indeed, but so incredibly over-the-top, the thought of its cost made you cringe; it seemed especially tonedeaf with the amount of people who’d been wandering the estate earlier in clothes and shoes that were more or less falling apart. And that was the second thing you noticed – all the Lesser Faeries that had joined in the fun that afternoon…the children enjoying themselves and the grafters letting their hair down after a summer of hard work…not a single one of them was present.

Your eyes bounced over every single table. Every person sat at those tables. Every last one was of a noble or aristocratic background. Every one of them wore garments and accessories that could have paid the rent on the lesser faeries’ land for an entire year.

“Where are they?” You turned to Dion, frowning. “The families that were here earlier.” You didn’t want to use the words Lesser Fae out loud; something about it left a sour taste in your mouth.

Dion seemed totally oblivious to your shock as he replied. “The common folk? They’re not invited to the feasts or dances – just the daytime events.”

You gawked at him, a slither of cold outrage snaking through you that he didn’t seem to notice. You were just about to point out that the very food everyone in that room would be eating was there because of the harvesters, the workers who broke their backs and put their sweat and blood into the community – but a hand landed on your arm, and you looked up to see Barric shoot you a warning glance.

“Come,” He said. “You two must be seated before the announcement.”

Fuck the announcement, was what you wanted to reply. How were you supposed to sit and watch these people bask arrogantly in their wealth when the people toiling over their lands were probably wolfing down a dinner of stale bread and cheese? There was plenty of room in here for more tables, plenty of spaces in which those people could sit.

You had to ball your fists, to bite your tongue – you looked over to your family, found your parents staring expectantly at you. And it was only imagining them in tattered clothing, eating gone-off food, that gave you the will to tamp down on your anger. For now.

You were led to the top table and seated in a high-backed chair between Dion and Jareth. Jareth sent you a wolfish grin, taking a long sip from his wine chalice.

“Evening, future sister-in-law.” He murmured, his eyes wandering over your body. “Don’t you make the pretty plaything?”

You scowled at him, facing forward. Jareth seemed to have an entire bank of leering, inappropriate comments for any female in the general vicinity. Only earlier that day, he’d stood and shamelessly flirted with you and all of your sisters – in front of their husbands, too

You were saved from having to make a remark by Beron standing from his throne at the centre of the table. He looked over the great hall, and then squared his shoulders. Tapped a fork against his glass loud enough that the cacophony of voices died out in seconds.

“Good evening to you all.” His voice was clear– confident – as he stared forward and made direct eye contact with people. “Welcome to our first feast of this year’s harvest. An old tradition of our people that I hope we can start anew. And what a bounty of good food we have before us.”

Murmurs of agreement broke through the room. You clenched your hands beneath the table.

“Before we indulge ourselves,” Beron said. “I have a wonderful announcement I’d like to share with you – my court. My people.”

That said it all – that he didn’t consider the landworkers of his court, their families, to be his people.

“I’m delighted to share with you the joining of two families.” He continued. “You all know my second-eldest son, Dion.” A glance at Dion, a flash of expectancy in his eyes. “Dion is engaged to be wed — to the fine lady at his side. Y/N, we look forward to welcoming you into our family.”

All eyes were on you, now. You felt your cheeks redden, your skin growing tight and hot under the intense scrutiny. You couldn’t help wondering what those many people might be thinking – whether there were jealous females thinking they would have been better suited for the role. Irritated fathers who were pissed that you’d wormed your way in with the Vanserras before their child could. Stuck-up mothers who didn’t deem you anywhere near good enough.

But you smiled – like you’d been told to. Inclined your head at Beron – like you’d been told to. Allowed Dion to grab your hand and place a kiss on your cheek – like you’d been told to.

And the crowds of people cheered, just like they were expected to.

“We hope you’ll join us in celebrating the happy news.” Beron raised his glass, and everyone in the room followed. “To Dion and Lady Y/N. Let the feast begin.”

⤲

It felt wrong – to eat the food. Every bite was like ash in your mouth. The only relief was the spiced wine you washed it all down with.

After an hour or so of feasting, the rigid formality seemed to dissipate somewhat. People rose from their seats, venturing to other tables to speak to friends, or even to approach the top table and engage the High Lord in conversation — conversations that had you clenching your fists harder and harder beneath the table, as you listened to Beron’s subjects gush about how generous he had been to invite the common folk to the daytime celebrations. Some even complained that said folk should have made a better effort with their clothing.

It was that comment which had you hitting your limit. You pushed your chair back, muttering an excuse about going to the bathroom, and breezed away without a glance back. Luckily, Dion — and all the other Vanserras — were far too taken by conversation to notice.

You didn’t think you could get away with leaving the room itself — not with Barric always keeping a watchful eye on you. But you floated around its edges, the cold, draughty parts where Autumn Court banners were hung and discreet alcoves dipped off into other parts of the manor.

It was in one of those alcoves that you spotted him — Lucien.

He leaned against a wall, wine glass in hand, his eyes dancing over the tables and his feet making no move to go any closer. You hadn’t even checked to see if he’d been at the top table with the rest of his family.

But something told you they wouldn’t have noticed — or cared — if he wasn’t.

Dressed in a tailored outfit a similar shade to his russet eyes, his long hair unbound, he looked like a painting in that alcove. The kinds your mother had hung up all around your family’s estate. He cut a solitary figure like he always seemed to, but appeared to be otherwise relaxed. Appeared to be fine with just standing and…spectating. Just himself and his thoughts.

As though he could sense your intense stare, his eyes flicked to yours. Those dark red eyebrows rose when he found you, indeed, staring.

You couldn’t explain it — the way your feet began to move towards him. He’d been nothing but unpleasant to you in the short conversation you’d had with him. But something about his solitary nature spoke to you. Something that made you want to speak back.

You stopped at a drinks table, grabbing yourself another glass of wine, before subtly sidling over to where Lucien stood. You tried to relax your stance, to mimic his casualness, his ease, as you pressed your back against the wall, a few steps away from him. He watched the entire thing.

You met his eyes once more, taking a sip of your wine and nodding in polite greeting.

“Is there a reason you’ve been walking around with a face like a smacked ass?” He said.

That was his greeting.

You blinked at him, your body somehow coiling tighter than it already was.

So — that rude conversation on your first night here hadn’t merely been the product of Lucien in a bad mood, then.

His head fell into a tilt as he studied you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once since the feast started. Is our food not to your liking?”

It would have been so easy to scowl and stalk away — to not get into this with him. And would have been wise to, also. He may have had a terse relationship with his family at best, but you didn’t doubt he’d run straight to his father with any complaints of yours — if only out of spite, fanned by this bizarre dislike he seemed to have for you.

But clearly you weren’t feeling very wise. Not as your mouth began speaking before you could tell it not to.

“It just leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.” You said through gritted teeth. “That we’re all here stuffing our faces, over-indulging, and yet nobody actually responsible for the harvest has been invited.”

Lucien cocked a single eyebrow. He angled his body towards you. “This sounds interesting. Please, do impart your musings upon me, Lady. I’m fascinated to know what goes on behind the pretty face.”

Pure, pure sarcasm. He was mocking you, being rude again — and you knew that. And never had you let anyone speak to you in such a way before; never had you stood for someone so freely ridiculing you.

But did you walk away, decide not to humour him?

No. You didn’t.

“Look around the room.” You simply said, holding his gaze. Your clenched jaw was the only symbol of ire you threw at him. “Look at every damn table. Every single person here is a noble, an aristocrat. High Fae. And yet the High Lord didn’t deign to invite the hard workers who slaved over the land all year so that he could even host this feast. None of the hard-working families that everyone should be celebrating and thanking. No, they’ll be stuck at home eating stale bread and cheese and receiving no appreciation for the back-breaking graft they put in.”

The words had just…tumbled from your mouth. Pent-up from an hour of watching people gush over the High Lord. You knew you should have stopped yourself, knew you should have kept your mouth shut and later ranted to Willow, or even your damn reflection in the mirror.

Not to the youngest Autumn Court son who had an inexplicable problem with you. Who was probably delighting in the fact that you had just slipped up.

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together, his eyes narrowing. His head fell into a tilt.

“Interesting.” He said, his tone quiet. Cutting. “But have you completely forgotten your own privilege, Lady?”

You balked at him. Hadn’t expected that response. “What?”

“You are a noble. You are High Fae.” His eyes travelled over you, disgust curling his lip. “And you are here, looking just as prim and proper and stuck-up as the rest of them. When was the last time you did a hard day’s work in your life? It seems to me like the pot is calling the kettle black.”

Before you could even begin to formulate a response, he was pushing off the wall. Draining his glass and striding away without so much as a glance back at you.

All you could do was stand and gawk in his wake — stunned and stung by his words. You wanted to run after him, to chew him out and tell him how wrong he was. How much hard work you had put in over the years. That he’d got you completely and utterly wrong.

But as you drained your own glass and turned in the direction he disappeared in, not even a flash of red hair remained.

⤲

You should have left it alone.

Lucien Vanserra had made his thoughts of you abundantly clear — his dislike for you. And with his mind clearly made up, there was probably no use beating a dead horse and trying to defend yourself.

But the anger that had already been there, inside you, had snowballed. You remained at the edges of the room, helping yourself to the wine and not bothering to pretend you were happy to be there. Fortunately, nobody seemed to take much notice of you, either.

You stared with narrowed eyes across the room, watching Dion, who was now engaging in enthusiastic conversation with Willow. They seemed to be getting along perfectly — you’d suspected they would — and you were thankful that she was distracting him enough, making him laugh hard enough, that he didn’t seem to be aware of your absence.

Lucien had no right to talk to you like that. He didn’t know you, had no knowledge of the kind of work you had done. He’d formed an unfair opinion of you and run with it, and in a situation that was already lonely as it was, you didn’t need the added hostility. Did it mean you were weak, to be barely three days in and hitting your breaking point? Maybe. You didn’t care. You needed someone to sound off to, to give a piece of your mind.

That was how you found yourself slipping out of the great hall before anyone could stop you. You were going to hunt Lucien down, to confront him and demand to know what his damn problem was.

Your thoughts were a tad fogged by the wine you’d consumed. There was no real method or direction to the route you travelled, probably going round in circles. You strode through the long, winding halls with purpose, passing servants who took one look at your thunderous expression and averted their gazes.

Outside. Lucien Vanserra always seemed to be outside, somewhere, loitering around trees and in the shadows. You pushed through the huge glass doors that opened out onto the veranda — the same one you’d dined on only that morning.

You’d made it only halfway across the dewy grass before you heard him — heard them. There was a trilling, feminine laugh that echoed through the night, stark and loud in your ears. Movement in your periphery. You turned in its direction.

Just in time to see Lucien press a pretty blonde against a tree. To see his hands roaming her body as he kissed her feverishly, and they laughed sensuously into each other’s mouths.

You went still. Just…just stared for a moment. Stared at the scene before you and tried to understand the bile that rose in the back of your throat. The twisting in your gut.

Only when Lucien and his lover disappeared out of sight did it strike you — the hollowness you felt. The jealousy. Nothing…nothing to do with who it was, but…the intimacy. The freedom of that intimacy.

Because it hit you like a ton of bricks that Lucien Vanserra may have been a solitary male who liked to skulk off and brood alone…he may have been the black sheep of his family…but he clearly still had freedoms that you lacked. Such a fact stung like a slap.

You couldn’t just sneak off for a clandestine fumble in the woods with a casual fling. Couldn’t engage in a spell of brief, meaningless passion, just for the hell of it. Not anymore.

It left you feeling so, so terribly lonely. You didn’t really know why.

But that fire of anger inside you winked out. Left you empty. You didn’t feel like confronting Lucien Vanserra anymore, didn’t feel like chewing him out.

You just wanted to be alone.

⤲

“I like him. Dion, I mean.”

It was nearing the end of the first week of the festival when Willow slipped her arm through yours. The moon was beating down on the Vanserra Estate, and a sizable group of people had come along to The Offering – an Autumn Court tradition that had been built from superstition centuries ago. It was said that at moonrise, anyone who left offerings for the wild creatures of the Autumn Court were promised safety and good harvest the following year. Groups of courtiers wandered through the woods, carrying armfuls of jam jars and fruit baskets and crisp loaves of bread, all to be left for creatures that may not even exist.

“Dion’s nice.” You acknowledge with a small nod. You were careful not to speak too openly with your sisters lingering close behind. And the Vanserra brothers striding ahead.

It was true – as the week had progressed, you’d found yourself enjoying Dion’s company. He was easy to talk to, a male of flowing conversation and good humour. You’d taken to sharing nightly walks around the gardens, and you were perfectly happy to listen while he regaled you with stories and shared knowledge of subjects you knew nothing about. And additionally, he seemed to have truly taken to your youngest – favourite – sister. He and Willow already had a budding relationship built on teasing each other, on affectionate bickering. It wasn’t unusual to walk into a room and find the pair of them laughing – a fact that angered Isaac, no doubt. You’d been keeping a close eye on him all week.

And you’d thankfully not run into Lucien Vanserra’s path. Which was good. Which was fine. You weren’t going to bother with pleasantries when he clearly had no intentions of doing so.

“Do you have any idea of when the wedding might be?” Willow asked you, gently nudging you with her elbow. Her offering of a huge jar of honey was tucked under her other arm.

“No,” You shook your head. “It’s to be discussed after the festival. That’s when the preparations will begin.”

Her gaze flicked to you. “And are you…you know…attracted to him?”

“He’s a handsome male.”

“You know what I’m asking, Y/N. Do you feel…alright…where the wedding night itself is concerned?”

You spared her the slightest glance in your periphery. She was bound to have brought this up at some point…this subject that was a giant elephant in the room. Sitting on a secret that you had no clue what you were going to do about. Try as you might to bury it, it always lingered at the back of your mind – waiting to come alive and smack you in the face.

But you squared your shoulders. Played the fool, as you said, “I feel fine about it.”

Before you could think of a subject change, Willow was suddenly veering you both to the left, tugging you around a giant tree. She checked that you were truly out of sight before she turned back to you, her face pinched. There was something…comical, in the way she tried to look serious while holding a giant jar of honey.

“Have you even thought about the situation at all?” She hissed. “Things may be sweet and innocent right now, but come your wedding night, Dion is going to know. He’s going to figure out the state of your virginity – or lack thereof – and he might not like it. I hear the Vanserras have a thing about taking pure brides.”

You swallowed, your stomach bottoming out. It was far easier to ignore when it wasn’t being pointed out to you. And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that – whether you planned to tell Dion or not.

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret that one choice you’d made for yourself all those years ago – to have Linden, one of the few people you trusted more than anything – to be the first person you had sex with. He had been kind and careful, and you’d felt good afterwards – glad you’d chosen the person yourself, and never thinking it would be a decision that would come back to bite you on the ass.

And yet here you were. Engaged to a male who likely expected you to be…intact, as you’d heard other males say, on your wedding night. A male who expected to be your first and only lover.

“I highly doubt Dion is a virgin,” You shrugged defensively. “Why should I have to defend my choice to sleep with Linden? I wanted–”

“Holy Gods.”

The words, choked with incredulity and a lick of laughter, had not come from Willow.

You looked up, your entire body – entire existence – going cold as you observed Molly gaping at you from a few strides away, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised, her back ramrod straight.

“Damn it.” Willow mumbled under her breath. “Molly–”

“You actually gave yourself to that brute?” Molly folded her arms, her eyes studying you. “Do you have no respect for yourself at all?”

Your jaw clenched. “It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t be listening in on conversations.”

Your eldest sister placed a mocking hand over her chest. “I was concerned about my sisters wandering off into the woods alone.”

You took a single step towards her, to say, to do…what, you didn’t know. But Willow was grabbing hold of your arm. Glaring at Molly with an intensity that would have even the most hard-faced people backing down.

“You better keep your gods-damn mouth shut about this, Molly.” She said through gritted teeth. “I mean it – not a word.”

Molly smirked. Oh, she was enjoying this. To have leverage against someone was like having the Winter Solstice come early. Her eyes glistened with challenge.

“Keeping my mouth shut won’t change the fact that Y/N allowed herself to be defiled by that scum with a sword.” She sniped. “How, exactly, do you plan to explain yourself to your betrothed?”

“None of your fucking business.” You snapped.

“Tetchy,” That wolfish smirk widened. “You have no plan at all, do you?”

“I–”

“Swear you won’t say anything.” Willow cut in, folding her arms.

“Are you above begging?”

“Swear,” Your youngest sister repeated, her jaw ticking as she stepped forward, “you won’t say anything.”

“Mother Above, the two of you are so dramatic.” Molly made a show of glancing at her nails. Of sighing deeply. Of placing a hand on the swell of her belly. And then she smirked again. “I swear I won’t tell anyone – if only because I can’t wait to see how this pans out.”

She offered no chance for you to respond before she was turning and flouncing away, a trill of satisfied laughter in her wake. Your shoulders slumped, but you felt no relief – you didn’t trust Molly or her word for one second.

“Bitch.” Willow murmured beside you, scooping up the jar of honey. “Don’t worry about her. She’s all talk. Let’s make these offerings before the Autumn Court creatures materialise and decide to eat us instead.”

You forced a smile. Allowed yourself to be tugged back through the trees, onto the path that groups were still ambling along, only spaced-out faelights and moonlight illuminating the way.

Ahead of you, Molly had returned to strolling at her husband’s side.

She glanced back once. And grinned.

⤲

The end of that first week was a relief. Albeit a short-lived one.

You wanted to wind the week up by doing nothing. By holing yourself up in your room and reading, or sleeping, or—anything. Anything that didn’t involve plastering a smile on your face and talking to people.

And yet here you were, on a dragging Sunday night, trying to work out how you were going to survive the last week of festivities — all while the High Lord’s personal bard played to a tittering audience, and your sisters and Dion’s brothers chatted around the table you all occupied.

You almost felt bad for the bard. Nobody appeared to be listening. Every song he had played had been drowned out by the numerous conversations happening at once.

You felt…uneasy, with Molly sitting opposite you. She may not have spoken a word of your secret thus far, but the glances she kept shooting you were in no way subtle. The exhausting week had begun to weigh on you, and you bristled every time your sister opened her mouth. Beside you, Dion seemed to notice your resigned demeanour.

His hand landed on your leg, and he leaned down to your ear. “Are you alright?”

Glancing up at him, you nodded. “I’m fine – just tired.”

“We don’t have to stay for this — I can take you back to your suite.”

Across the table, a resounding tsk came from your eldest sister. Everyone looked to her in question, but her gaze was firmly on you. On Dion, and the clear direction his hand was leaning in beneath the table.

“Now, now, enough of that.” Molly said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I’m sure the two of you would prefer to keep things clean and pure until the wedding night.”

Your jaw ticked as Dion shifted beside you. “That isn’t what I meant.” He said.

“No need to sweat.” Molly smiled at him — and then glanced at you. Directly at you, her eyes burning into yours. “We all feel temptation beckoning us sometimes, right?”

“Molly.” Willow’s voice was low, warning, from the chair at your other side. “You’re being inappropriate.”

The tension around the table could be cut with a knife. But Molly seemed to be enjoying it, as she sat back in her chair and continued to simply smirk at you. So many retorts teased the tip of your tongue, begging you to rip into her, to give in and make that scene she was so clearly angling for—

But you were saved right at the last minute by one song ending, and another beginning. The bard’s swift musical transition seemed to sweep away the tautness that stretched around your table, and as if the last couple of minutes hadn’t occurred, conversation started anew — instigated by Eris, who was happy to sit and bend everyone’s ears with heroic stories about himself.

You were just thankful that the heat was taken off of you.

Even more so that only Willow and Dion seemed to be aware when you pushed out from the table, rising to your feet. Everyone else was too entranced by Eris waxing poetic about a hunting trip he’d been on.

“Can I escort you somewhere?” Dion peered up at you. There was a strange lick of apology in his eyes, his tone, as if he blamed himself for the turn the conversation had taken moments ago.

“No,” You answered quickly — too quickly — and cleared your throat. “No, thank you. I’m ready to turn in.”

He nodded in what seemed to be understanding — and perhaps a flash of disappointment. He reached for your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to your fingers. “Goodnight, then.”

The tinge of guilt you felt was almost enough to make you sit back down and tolerate Molly for the rest of the evening, just to appease Dion. Because all week, he’d been nothing but kind to you. Nothing but polite and accommodating and understanding that this situation you both found yourselves in was a bizarre one, a tricky one, and you were trying to puzzle it out yourselves with the watchful gazes of others constantly on you.

But if you stayed a second longer, you thought you might scream. You’d barely had a moment to yourself all week, and if you didn’t take that time now, you weren’t sure what you might do. What you might say.

You kissed Willow on the cheek and bade everyone goodnight, trying to ignore Molly’s eyes on you as you hastily left the room.

But you didn’t go straight to bed, like you were no doubt expected to. The one bit of solace you’d found in this place, in this situation, was the beautiful sprawl of land around you, as far as the eye could see. You wanted to feel the chilled autumn air on your skin, to breathe in its crisp scent whilst you walked the gardens — alone — and allowed your thoughts to roam freely.

You waited, just long enough to make sure nobody followed, and then made your way outside. You weren’t dressed at all appropriately for the bite in the air, but there was something pleasant about the cold temperature washing over you. Like you were breaking the surface of water and taking great, greedy gulps of air.

You allowed your feet to carry you aimlessly, putting distance between you and the manor, the sounds of music and chatter floating out from inside. The further you strayed from the huge house, the more you relied on the accompanying full moonlight to illuminate your path and guide you onwards. Shafts of its silvery light broke through the leaves as you began to wend through the trees, the smell of damp earth and bark somewhat of a soothing tonic to you.

You didn’t realise just how far you’d wandered until you could no longer make out the lights from the manor — or the sounds. The silence of the forest at this time was deafening, the only sounds made by your shoes kicking through leaves and stepping on twigs.

That was — until you heard it.

You couldn’t immediately make out what it was — what you were hearing. A sound akin to heavy breathing, but not that of a person; almost like a creature’s snout sniffing the air.

You stopped dead on the path you were wandering, frozen on the spot. Only around twenty feet away from you, you could just discern the outline of objects sitting at the bases of the towering trees. Small jars, bigger ones, cloaks and trinkets—

The Offerings everybody had left for the elusive Autumn Court creatures. You had wandered way, way too far.

You didn’t know what to do as the strange sound picked up, grew closer. You didn’t fancy your chances at running over the uneven forest floor in your gown — and certainly not if it would just invite whatever animal was lurking to follow you.

You stood ramrod straight, waiting for it to emerge. Perhaps a wolf, or a wildcat, or—

The…creature…that inched out from around a tree was a thing of pure, undiluted nightmare.

Its head was certainly that of an animal’s — a fox — with glowing yellow eyes and a maw that pulled back into somewhat of a sneer. But its body…slender and tall…it had to be towering at eight feet at least, and walking on two legs—

You were going to vomit. Never had you had such a strong, visceral reaction to a sight before you. The way you shook had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

You couldn’t move — not as you watched the giant beast stalk towards the offerings, its nose still loudly sniffing the air, sniffing for—

Something snaked around your face — a warm hand that covered your mouth, your nose. You had no time to react as you were yanked back against a firm, solid body, and slowly, slowly dragged backwards.

“Don’t,” A voice, lethally quiet, whispered into your ear. Lucien. “Make a sound.”

You obeyed. As much as you wanted to scream your head off in pure terror. Lucien’s other hand was around your waist, and you gripped onto his arm, allowing yourself to slowly, slowly, be dragged backwards, your eyes never once leaving the creature.

You thought he must know these woods like the back of his hand, with how expertly he stepped around trees and over dips, acting like you weighed nothing more than air as he pulled you along with him.

Only when you were far enough away that the creature was just a moving blot of darkness did Lucien stop. He pressed his back against the tree. And continued to hold onto you.

His hand splayed flat against your stomach as he gradually pulled the other from your face. “Don’t scream.” He told you, his voice little more than a sigh. “And don’t move.”

You couldn’t move, aside of the uncontrollable tremors wracking through your body. You were icy cold all over, and you pressed back against Lucien, savouring his warmth, his firm presence. His chest heaved heavy breaths as he held you still.

“…What…” You dared to whisper, “What was that?”

Because the creature…you’d never seen anything like it before. These things that you’d left offerings for…they were all supposed to be mere superstition. A nightmare entity that parents used to make their children behave.

But you’d seen it before you, in the flesh. A towering, fox-like creature that walked on its hind legs.

Lucien’s fingers pressed against your stomach. “It doesn’t have a name,” He murmured. “It just is. They’re rare, but…history says they would appear for the offerings left at the trees. And they track a person’s movement. Once they’ve spotted you, you’re done for. We called them Nutcrackers, as children. Because it allegedly cracks your skull between its jaws, like a nut, before you have a chance to react.”

The shiver that wracked through you was palpable. It felt like ages that the two of you stood there like that, your bodies pressed together, waiting for some indication that it was safe to promptly get the fuck out of there. After what felt like an eternity, the dark outline of the horrifying creature seemed to slip deep into the brush, its long, slender arms clutching a whole bounty of offerings.

You knew the coast must have been clear when Lucien exhaled — and pushed you away from him.

“What the fuck,” he stormed round to face you, “were you doing all the way out here?”

You rubbed your arms, too shaken to be put out by his tone. You shrugged half-heartedly. “I came for a walk. Didn’t realise how far I’d wandered.”

Your nonchalance seemed to anger him. He was a flare of red hair and golden skin — accented by silver moonlight — as he shook his head at you, his strong jaw flexing.

“You really are as daft as you seem.” He sniped. “Count yourself fucking lucky that I was here to get your ass out of that.”

You folded your arms. “Do you want me to thank you?”

“I don’t care what you do—”

“Or perhaps I should apologise,” You cut him off, “What were you doing out here so late? I don’t suppose I was interrupting another quick fuck against a tree?”

Lucien stilled — stared at you. And you wished — wished so damn hard — that you could snatch those words right out of thin air and cram them back into your mouth, down your throat. You didn’t know why you’d even said it.

It had achieved nothing — other than making it clear to him that you’d seen him sneaking off with a female on the night of the feast.

He stepped closer to you — so close that his hair tickled your face as he leaned down. So close that his scent pushed its way up your nose, invading you, smothering you—

“Do me a favour,” He hissed, “and stay far away from the woods. Stay far away from any potential danger so that I don’t have to stick my neck out getting you out of it.” Cruel, russet eyes flicked over you. “In fact? Stay far away from me. That’s what I want you to do, Lady.”

He turned without another word. Or another glance at you, as he stormed away, leaves and twigs crunching beneath his boots.

All you could do was watch his retreating figure, trembles still wracking your body.

You should have been thinking: Lucien Vanserra is a prick.

Should have been thinking that you wanted to smack his sneer from his gods-damn face.

But you watched and watched as he disappeared out of sight. You weren’t even worried about the fucking fox-nutcracker-hind-legged-creature anymore. Not as it was just you and the trees, and the sting of Lucien’s harsh words still hanging in the air.

All you were thinking was that Lucien Vanserra smelled like a heady mix of apples, of woodsmoke, of the forest after a downpour, the earthy tones of cedar and balsam fir. The most delicious concoction that your imagination couldn’t possibly make up. It lingered in your nose, rapidly fading with each passing second.

All you were thinking was that you’d never smelled anything — anyone — like it.

That you wanted to inhale that scent greedily.

Again and again and again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[grimace-writes]

A Quacktastic Courtship

{NKIT No 4.2}

GN!Reader x Task Force 141

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

Summary: The Reader is in the infirmary, their first visitor greets them with flowers and a plush ducking.

Word count: {1074}

(3rd Person POV | They/Them so anyone can read :) | Mid Twenties to Early Thirties)

[Enjoy! (๑ º ᗜ º๑) ノ♡ ]

-——————⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚°˖✧˚ʚ🦋ɞ˚✧˖° ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆——————-

Mild knocking broke them for their memories, they wiped their face with the back of their hand before they faced their visitor. {Y/N}’s shallow expression softened as a tender smile formed on their face to the sight of beautifully arranged flowers and a plush duckling

Soap stood in the doorway, his casual attire disheveled like he ran to get here. He looked like he was trying to discern whether or not they were real, his silence almost felt uncomfortable.

The silence didn’t last long as Soap quickly approached them as he made his decision. He flopped himself onto the side of the hospital with his head on {Y/N}’s lap causing them to giggle at his dramatics. “Duuuccckkiiiee, you almost died..Are you okay?” Johnny choked out through his over exaggerated sobs. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Sore but fine. Don’t cry, Sudsy.” {Y/N} chuckled, running their free hand through his short hair trying to comfort him. The sweet aroma of roses filled {Y/N}’s senses, the flowers and plush were discarded at the end of the bed. “You got little ol’ me some gifts?”

“Oh yeah.” Johnny said, standing up straight to grab the plush first, handing it to {Y/N} much to their delight. {Y/N}’s giggled as they wrapped their arms around the plush, “I now have my own duckie, Thank you. He shall be my little detergent forever.” They buried their nose into the soft tuft of hair on top, it smelled like sweet mint with some earthy forest tones. They felt so relaxed by the smell, the pain they felt once before fading away. {Y/N} turned their head to look at Johnny matching his toothy grin on their face, a warm and fuzzy feeling bubbling in their stomach.

They watched as Johnny placed the bouquets of roses into a decorative vase near the window. The setting sun giving the flowers a warm glow, their eyes lingered to admire the various colors complementing the vintage vase provided by the hospital.

He pulled up a chair next to their bed, then Johnny happily intertwined their fingers together, his thumb gently playing with theirs. “I spent a lot of time in the shop with the flower lass, trying to figure out the best colors to choose.” He slipped the card the florist gave him with the descriptions from his pocket for them to read. Peach roses represent thanks and gratitude, Lavender roses represent unique love, White roses represent innocence and new love, and Baby's-breath represents hope and new beginnings. 

Their smile brightened as they read the card, they went to call him a dork but stopped as they noticed Johnny’s sorrowful expression hidden behind a fake smile. Their eyes followed his eyes as he looked over the bandages that adorned parts of their body. After {Y/N} was admitted for the initial gunshot wound, they were treated for abrasions on their arms and a small gash on their cheek. Johnny’s grip on their hand tightened as he couldn’t make eye contact with them, some part of him felt he could have done more to help them. 

“Oh Johnny, look at me..” {Y/N} lifted his hand placing it over their heart, the steady beat matching the rhythm of the monitor tracking it. “I’m still alive. I’m still breathing, talking, and overall just a tad achy. You beating yourself up over something you can’t control isn’t worth it..” 

It was like they were reading his mind, how could someone in their condition be trying to cheer him up. His own heart beat faster than theirs as he fell even more in love with them, {Y/N} opened their arms open for him. Johnny moved on to the bed to lay with them which they scooted over to allow him the space. He wrapped his right arm around their waist with his left hand still firmly on their heart, he buried his face in their neck, closing his eyes. 

This started months after their first mission together, finding comfort in each other's embrace whether be a quick hug or full cuddle sessions. Neither questioned the need at this point as it became second nature, {Y/N} hummed as they rested their head atop Johnny’s. His shoulders shook as the overwhelming emotions he bottled inside came flooding out. Ever since they got back from the mission, the scenes of them getting hurt replayed in his mind, now all he saw was how happy {Y/N} was to see him. He knew he had to say how he felt, if it wasn’t already clear by how close they were. “Hey, hey, it’s okay..I’m right here..” {Y/N} spoke in a low tone, tightening their hold around Johnny, using one hand to rub comforting circles on his back. Their tenderness for him in their time of weakness made the leap to confess, he moved to capture their lips in a gentle yet tender kiss. {Y/N} was shocked by his forwardness, but quickly reciprocated the kiss wrapping their arms around his neck. He moved to lay over them in the bed, his right arm trailed down their side accidentally gracing their wound causing them to wince and break the kiss. “Mmm ooooh..maybe we can rain check any further physical activity until I’m not in the hospital.” They chuckled in pain with a blush in their face. 

“Shit, Sorry, you’re right.” Johnny nervously chuckled rested their foreheads together, his deep brown eyes looking into their dazzlingly {E/C} ones. “If it weren’t already clear my feelings were..Will you be mine?” He asked, giving their cheek a quick peek. 

“More like you are mine, but whatever helps you sleep at night.” {Y/N} sealed their confirmation with a peck on his lips leaning back with a cheeky smile. Johnny bit his lip moving off the bed before he was tempted to do more canoodling, which would in fact impair their healing process, though he made sure his hand was in theirs.

A rhythmic knock drew their attention to the rest of their team with Gaz taking the lead. “Damn I owe you so much money..” Gaz spoke up first as he stood next to Johnny, he took his wallet out and handed the Captain £120 (about $150 USD). Ghost and {Y/N} snorted at the flabbergasted look Johnny gave the group. “YOU GUYS BET ON MY RELATIONSHIP STATUS!?”

{Soap Ending Found}

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₊˚°˖✧˚{OTHER ENDINGS}˚✧˖° ˚₊ ↳..Plush Plague Doctor. {Ghost} ↳..Plush Duckling. {Soap} ↳..Plush Bunny. {Gaz} ↳..Plush Otter. {Price}

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Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story. Let me know what you thought of it, Love Love~

(o´ ω `o)💕💕

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

#grimacewrites #task force 141 x reader #simon riley × reader #john mctavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod mw2 × reader #cod mw2 × male reader #mw2 × reader #mw2 × male reader #task force 141 #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod soap #cod ghost #cod price #cod gaz #gn reader #cod mw2 x gn reader

[dokidokitsuna]

“Your File” (Pt. 2)

More Elfy "photos"-- this time around, he's looking at memes and showing off his powers~

Lately I've been putting the final touches on DDT's script; filling in some of the more depressing parts that I'd skipped over before. And working on this has brought me to two realizations:

a) Leon is basically the deuteragonist in this story, especially near the end. ;) Stay tuned~

b) One thing I like most about working with characters around Elfilin's age here (those who still have parents, anyway) is that you realize that all the shallow stereotypes people place on younger characters have deeper reasons behind them that deserve to be explored more.

Like, I think of this version of him as a fairly pleasant kid. A little shy and introverted, but very loving and helpful and kind. Unfortunately, between the nightmares/psychosis and all the problems he has to deal with IRL...you almost never see those aspects of his personality in the actual story. ^^;; He's usually either nervous or annoyed, and a little touchy when he's particularly stressed.

On the outside it just looks like "typical teen behavior" (which is probably how his parents choose to rationalize it ^^; ) but from his perspective it's plain to see that he just feels isolated. He's dealing with a lot of issues that, as far as he knows, no one around him will fully understand. Or they might react in a way that he's not prepared for, or a way that he's afraid of.

And if you've ever had to live like that, even as an adult, you know it gets to you after a while. :T Having to constantly hide things and keep up appearances is stressful, and it doesn't leave you much space to just feel your own feelings. So naturally, your emotions get bottled up, your temper gets shorter, and you may start to feel resentful towards certain people or situations, even if they don't "deserve" it.

So, y'know, imagine dealing with that when you're just a kid; just starting to learn how to manage your emotions. Not only does it make the task itself 10x more difficult, there's the added risk that anyone you purposely or accidentally open up to will refuse to take you seriously, and/or feel obligated to punish you for whatever they think you've done wrong.

Conclusion: don't be too hard on "moody teenagers". Maybe they're not being psychically tormented by an alien invader, but whatever they're going through is probably just as tough. ^^;

#kirby #gijinka #au #dream discoveries tour #elfilin

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @strangefable @direwombat @derelictheretic @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @cassietrn @chazz-anova @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @deputyash @dephellseed @deputy-morgan-malone @trashcatsnark @voidika @vampireninjabunnies-blog @onehornedbeast @minilev @fourlittleseedlings @florbelles @corvosattano @afarcryfrommymain @skoll-sun-eater @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @wrathfulrook @titiagls @inafieldofdaisies @megraen @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @cloudofbutterflies92 and @i-am-the-balancing-point

Three songs for Far Cry The Silver Chronicles, A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore and Life, Despair & Monsters. Also the last song is a song from Season 1 of Hazbin Hotel, which I'm aware isn't fully out yet, so maybe SPOILERS! Avoid the last song if you care enough. Music below:

Nadi Sinclair, a sharpshooter amongst Task Force 141, is forced to go on the run with Soap and Price in the Call To Arms duology after killing Shepard and try their darnedest to put an end to Makarov once and for all (therefore running with the metaphorical wolves after the ultranationalist leader). Though alternatively, this could be after Call To Arms, where she joins up with the Project at Eden's Gate under Alexander Khaos and Jacob Seed's tutelage, where, she literally and figuratively runs with the wolves, away from society's expectations, technology and whatnot. Song below:

"Trick or treat, what would it be? I walk alone, I'm everything My ears can hear and my mouth can speak My spirit talks, I know my soul believes

But we're running out of time (Time, oh) All the echoes in my mind cry There's blood on your lies The sky's open wide There is nowhere for you to hide The hunter's moon is shining

I'm running with the wolves tonight I'm running with the wolves I'm running with the wolves tonight I'm running with the wolves I'm running with the wolves tonight I'm running with the wolves I'm running with the wolves tonight I'm running with the wolves

A gift, a curse, they track and hurt Say can your dream, in nightmares seems A million voices silent screams Where hope is left so incomplete."

"cardigan" is a specific song that makes me think of Ortega "Ore" Brantley's final moments in The House Always On Top, as he stands in a dam that has an active nuclear warhead nearby, injured beyond belief, with one of his father's most dangerous spellcasters, Aggravor, keeping him in one place with nothing more than one hand touching his back, a fatal touch that would soon kill him whenever Aggravor chooses. And Ore reflects with what little time he has left on his loved ones, his companions, friends, family, mother, sister, the innocents killed by Urias under his watch, even the recent loss of Ryder, the Courier's presence being the cause of why he came to Hoover Dam in the first place if only because he saw a slim chance she survived and had to jump to it before it was too late. He thinks over his regret of not killing his father sooner, of being too late to save others, but also his accomplishments, over the fact his sister, and both of their students, had survived, and Ress had evolved far from the arrogant and immaturely entitled girl she started off as. And with that, when Ress finally enters the room, he makes sure to look upon her with pride, and knowing she won't be needing him anymore, verbally passes the torch to her. He has full confidence that she will end their father's blight even when Aggravor ends his life. This song can also be towards Ress as she loses her big brother, the one constant support in her life, the one person never willing to give up on her no matter how much of an ass she made of herself, the one person she thought she would walk the Earth with forever and ever due to their ageless immortality, so she would never be alone. Her big brother who took the roles of teacher, friend and father all in one, always there to guide and support her want for freedom (unlike Urias, who would have used her as a pawn), always there to say "I'll take it from here" whenever she messed up, whenever she needed help fighting. Which must be why Ore's last words, though reassuring, had hurt so much as well. Song below:

"To kiss in cars and downtown bars Was all we needed You drew stars around my scars But now I'm bleeding Cause I knew you stepping on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I, I knew you Tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy I, I knew you Leaving like a father, running like water When you are young they assume you know nothing But I knew you'd linger, like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time Chasing shadows in the grocery line I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standing in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me. And you'd come back to me. And you'd come back."

In The Thorned Crown of Iron Thrones, much like canon, Aegon II Targaryen isn't a good brother, nor is he a first son to be proud of (as evident by his father's absolute indifference with him and his mother's disappointment), even less a candidate to be a king of all things (sometimes he was thankful it was his half-sister who would sit the Iron Throne, though he knew that meant him and his younger siblings would be put to the sword, which was the only downside). He knew this to be true, everyone knew, even his own grandsire recognized more potential in Aemond even after his younger brother lost his eye. After the funeral of their older cousin Laena, after Aemond lost an eye to their half-sister's children for claiming a dragon which their deceased cousin had ridden on, after the arguments and screaming between everyone on both sides, for justice, for blood, for punishment, for some shred of care from the man who conceived them. And especially after hearing Corvus, the only older sibling that treated Aegon, his brothers, his sister, and his mother with more decency and kindness than their apathetic father and scornful half-sister (despite Corvus conviction to continue helping his adopted sister keep her claim), break down when father revealed the most damning and life-shattering secret about his "adopted" son (thanks Dad), Aegon couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle the shame, disappointment and hopelessness of the situation, so that night, he ran off. He ended up running off into Driftmark's woods, hoping that, maybe if he disappeared, everything would get better, that his half-sister that his father doted on more than Aegon and his siblings, or his younger brother who would do mother and his grandsire proud, or even their recently discovered half-brother, as merciful and decisive as he is (though Aegon highly doubted either father nor grandsire would allow it to happen), would sit the dreadful throne, be the ruler people wanted. Hell, he would even have Cecil to sit the throne, if it meant the self-proclaimed Royce woman would send her father, his terrifying uncle, to the Wall and marry off his siblings to noble houses willing to care for them. Not him. He wished to be forgotten, to curl up and shrink and shrink until he couldn't be seen anymore. He had not intended of coming across an ex-assassin woman who called herself Okkotsu, who had tried to murder his father back in the day and had a special connection with the recently deceased Laena. Nor had he foreseen them connecting with their troubles, through such unorthodox means. Okkotsu may not know what Aegon is exactly going through, but she knows enough to help lift his spirits up... through the power of accepting yourself as a sopping wet sad little meow-meow blorbo? Song below:

[I'm not going to include all the lyrics, just the ones I find matter to these two downtrodden losers. Also LOTS-OH cursing here]

"So things look bad, and you're backs against the wall Your whole existence seems fuckin' hopeless You're feeling filthy as a dive bar bathroom stall Can't face the world sober and dopeless You've lost your way, you think your life is wrecked Well, let me just say you're correct!"

"Wait what?"

"You're a loser, baby A loser, goddamn baby You're a fucked-up little whiny bitch."

"Hey!"

"You're a loser just like me."

...

"This supposed to make me feel better?"

"There was a time I thought that no one could relate To the gruesome ways in which I'm damaged But lettin' walls down, it can sometimes set you straight! We're all living in the same shit sandwich."

...

"I'm a loser, honey A schmoozer and a dummy But at least I know I'm not alone."

"You're a loser."

"Just like me."

...

"I'm trapped and it gets worse with every hour."

"You're a loser, baby."

"A loser, but just maybe if we-"

"Eat shit together, things will end up differently."

"It's time to lose your self-loathin' Excuse yourself, let hope in, baby Play your card, be who you are."

"A loser, just like me."

#music monday #far cry the silver chronicles #wip: call to arms #call of duty modern warfare #oc: nadi sinclair #far cry 5 #the project at eden's gate #task force 141 #series: a radioactive calamity of love bombs & gore #wip: the house always on top #fallout #fallout new vegas #oc: ortega “ore” brantley #oc: marissa “ress” bishop #life despair & monsters #wip: the thorned crown of iron thrones #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #oc: okkotsu #“through the power of accepting yourself as a sopping wet sad little meow-meow blorbo?” is not a phrase I thought I would ever put down

[cannotgiveafuck]

Alright here's my semi thought out rambling on the contenders of who could adopt Billy Batson.

Keep in mind, this is not based on the Shazamily Billy, but the homeless kid Billy who spent years running away from his abusive uncle, and then multiple foster homes, and squats in apartments.

BatFam: IMO, they would immulate a foster home too much for Billy's comfort. A large home with multiple bodies, all of them having their own issues and lives that Billy would either feel excluded from or strive to help too much. Likewise, to have all those eyes - especially as the Batfam - watching him and being aware of his every move would be incredibly invasive for him. Billy is an independent kid, but hes not a crime fighter like the batkids, so the others would try to help him in any and every way possible, that would inevitably push Billys boundaries. The family stability is questionable, but the loyalty is definitely something Billy needs. So i think theyd be best as like, the friends home Billy stays at sometimes. Not to mention its Gotham. That city is not for Captain Marvel.

Constantine: lmao. Listen. I love this disaster in a trenchcoat disguised as a wreck of a man, but he should not be in any parental role. Him and Billy work out bc they are around each other in doses. They're complete opposites in methods and morals, and continued exposure would do them both harm. Likewise, when John truly cares for someone he pushes them away bc everyone around him gets hurt. He actively chooses to hurt them sometimes, if theyre not used against him. It doesn't matter that Billy is Captain Marvel and can withstand more than John can throw. John will self destruct and keep Billy away. And that is what would hurt Billy most. Bc he would feel abandoned and unwanted, and that kid has too many issues surrounding that in particular. He needs a stable environment and Constantine can not provide that in the long run - especially in a domestic sense. They're wayyy better off as friends, or magical mentor/mentee.

Superman: The biggest obstacle here is Clark's insistence that Billy remain a child and live a normal life instead of being Captain Marvel. Even if Clark relents to having Billy be Marvel and stay on JL, it would be a continuous struggle for both of them. Not only bc Clark does not know how to be a parent, but also Billy would have a very hard time adjusting. Compared to the other two, I'd say Clark is the most stable, but perhaps not stable enough. Journalism and Superman take up a lot of Clark's time, and he'd really struggle with balancing having Billy too - especially if this is pre-Jon. What's more, unlike Jon, Billy's duties and abilities are different. Despite Superman understanding personal wants vs greater duties, he could not help with Marvel's duties, as much as he'd want to. And I think that would really stress Clark out. Not to mention gaining Billy's trust once its lost is an uphill battle. Cap can work just fine with Superman, but Billy would be a feral kitten - another differing aspect Clark would struggle to grasp. I think there's potential here, esp with help from Lois and Mama Kent, but they're both on such different wave lengths beneath the shallow surface, that they'd struggle with cohabitation and being a 'family' more than one would think.

Wonder Woman: Gonna be honest, I think she's the best candidate for taking Billy in. Not only does she understand Cap's duties from a divine perspective, but she's taken on such monumental tasks. She gave up living on her home island to do her divine warrior duty, but then she found balance in remaking her home life as Diana Prince. She had a loving mother and community that raised her, which she'd draw inspiration from for Billy. There'd be a balance of knowing he's a child that needs protection and he's a chosen champion that needs to learn how to protect others (and himself) - honestly, the same balance Diana's mother had to find for her, which she'd realize with Billy. Itd be a familial connection she has greatly missed since Amazon. And tbh I think Cap and Billy are on the same page with WW - respect and admiration and trust, and that divine tie of being gifted by the Gods (Zeus specifically). Plus being handled without kiddie gloves and respected as a hero would be something Billy greatly appreciates.

#billy batson #captain marvel #shazam #listen. im a sucker for batfam and grumpy Constantine mentor too #but i just think billy has some issues thatd get triggered by either situation #and neither would be good for his development as a human child or magical hero #superman has potential but thered be a lot more problems than folks realize. on both ends #which would be so interesting to read them working thru #please i just want Big Sister WW #theyd be so good together #hes never going to be a normal kid. but he still needs a stable loving home #and i think Diana is a perf balance all around #She'd take him on museum tours and world travel and teach him about history and culture #And teach him so much about the Gods and their stories #Idk it's 1am and I'm having feels about Billy and family #And all the shit he's been thru. And despite being so caring and friendly as Cap #He's so wary and guarded as Billy. #He doesn't think he needs a family. Or deserves to be normal. But he does!! He does deserve love and support. #He's just a kid that needs very specific care and attention

[theblackdahliaemporium]

Organs in Witchcraft

Warning! this post will discuss animal remains such as organ, how to collect and utilise them in your craft. Viewer discretion is advised.

————————————

Warning

introduction

Acquiring organs

- removing organs

Organ correspondence

- organ list

In closing

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Introduction

This post will go into working with organs and why you might choose to do so, as well as collecting the organs and their meanings.

It should go without saying if you feel like this isn’t right for you and your path that is perfectly fine. There will be substations of organs listed below for those who aren’t comfortable working with actual organs.

Like when using any animal remains it’s important that if you feel like the animal is unhappy with your actions then don’t continue.

I normally say a little prayer then try and get a sense of the energy score taking anything home.

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Acquiring organs

When acquiring organs there are a couple of ethical considerations that tend to be present. Depending on your personal beliefs and opinions you’ll haft to navigate those individually. The two main options are visiting a local butchers or happening upon a newly deceased animal. The former is a far more pleasant experience but due to ethical reasons a lot of practitioners have issue with purchasing animal remains.

If you preform the task of collecting your own organs please take care to use PPE and efficiently wash away all bodily fluids preferably in an outside area. I’d recommend the use of a bucket and hose for this. A lot of species are protected and thus you cannot own any part of them so always do research.

—————————

removing organs

Normally you’d want to make a shallow incision with a scalpel from the sternum to the navel. wearing gloves remove the organs you wish to use using the scalpel as needed. If you’re lucky enough to have a freezer for taxidermy/ animal remains. Freezing is an excellent way of preserving remains that otherwise would degrade. I cannot stress enough if you do not have PPE or you’re unable to use a scalpel please do not try this. there are alternatives that can be used in place of organs.

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Organ correspondences

Each organ has its own function/s and therefore also has individual uses in witchcraft. worldwide animal remains have been used ritualistically for thousands of years. And we can still utilise them today. Below are a list of organs, their uses and substitutions.

——————

Brain - thought, mental health, emotion, intelligence, personality

Substitution - walnut

Typically this organ is a little difficult to acquire and damages the animals skull so I don’t work with the actual organ itself. Rather the energy.

——————

Eyes - perception, focus

Substitution - cherries

Eyes are excellent to add into workings where someone needs to see something. Typically to see their own failings.

——————

Heart - love, feeling, heartbreak, affection, passion, romance

Substitution - beetroot

One of the most versatile organs, the heart can be used in most workings involving relationships, lust, heartbreak and to target peoples core.

——————

Intestines - messaging, changes, break down situations, regulation, defence

Substitution - vining plants

Normally intestines are used in my practise to bind and defend against something. Or to change a situation.

——————

Kidney - purification, balance, banishment, stability

Substitution - kidney beans

Great to bring aspects of stability to a situation or person.

——————

Liver - change, creation, gathering/collection

Substitution - bulbs/tubers

The most versatile organ in my experience. You can use it for pretty much anything.

——————

Lungs - breath, life, movement,

Substitution - wide leafs/roots

If you wish to bring in new life to a situation while ridding the old stagnant energy lugs are great option.

——————

Stomach - motion, destruction, change, action

Substitution - cookoo pint/carnivorous plants

Typically used in bane, represents destruction of a situation. Can be used to uproot and change someone’s life.

——————

Tongue - communication, gossip, speech

Substitution - romano pepper

Can prevent those who like to lie and talk behind backs. Fold the tongue and hammer into the earth with a tag lock.

——————

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In closing

using organs is definitely not for everyone. But I hope this post was useful to someone. They are very good if you wish to target a certain organ that may be struggling for a little extra support. But always seek medical attention, magick is not a fix all and shouldn’t be treat as such.

Thank you for reading!

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Sources: Just Theo Pictures: All images used are from Google image search

#witch #deathwitch #death witch #witchcraft #organs #anatomy #magick #lhp #LHP #left hand path #occultism #demonology #pagan #spirit work #hellenic pagan #viewer discretion is advised

[sillspore]

Clan Culture

the way i envision the clans in my head, and how i wish the series had made them more than just copy pasted versions of each other :,)

THUNDERCLAN

Thunderclan traditionally lived in a ravine in the forest, overcome with life and vegetation. Their dens are a mix of caves in the walls of the ravine and trees and bushes that grow there. In the lake territory, Thunderclan makes their home in an abandoned quarry where their dens are largely the same as the ravine. A large tree has grown in the middle of the quarry, the bottom of which has become the leader’s den with a branch of the tree functioning as the leader’s spot during clan meetings. 

Thunderclan are known, crafts-wise, for their woodworking. Thunderclan cats use their claws to make bowls and containers out of wood. Their most iconic invention was making a bag out of a wood cup and vine so healers could carry more herbs at once. 

If ThunderClan cats choose to accessorize, it’s with feathers or plants. 

Thunderclan often names their kits after things found in the forest, most often birds and plants. 

Historically, Thunderclan is the least accepting of outsiders, but after the events to TPB they slowly open up to them. 

SHADOWCLAN

Shadowclan lives up to their name and traditionally works and lives in the dark. In the old forest camp, there was a small cave system they lived in, and they hunted exclusively at night. The cave was small, though, so warriors slept in dug-out dens in the clearing around the cave.  Due to their night-hunting habits, most Shadowclan cats have darker fur to help with camouflage. At the lake territory, there’s an outcropping of rocks and boulders that form a cave-like tunnel system, so Shadowclan makes their camp there, in the dark, where only they can navigate. 

Shadowclan is one of the least-crafty clans, but kits are known to play in the mud of their marsh. Most commonly, Shadowclan skins prey and makes blankets for their cold dens out of the fur. 

Shadowclan commonly names their kits “dark” names, such as Murk- or Shade-. They have a reputation to uphold, after all. 

Shadowclan is usually unfond of outsiders, with the exception of Brokenstar’s leadership, where he invites many rogues into his clan. 

RIVERCLAN

Riverclan has always lived near water, due to their diet of fish. In the old territory, they live right next to the river, with decorated dens of shells and clay. Their dens are weaved by them and made to float if flooding occurs. In the new territories, they live once more by the river, but their camp is surrounded on all sides by shallow, but wide streams, making their camp safe as an island. 

Riverclan cats have the best access to large amounts of food, and are almost always large and sleek. Due to this, and no need to fight over their borders (in the old territory, due to the river, and at the lake, due to the horse place and camp grounds bordering them), Riverclan have lots of free time to prioritize creativity. They love decorating with twine, shells, fish bones, feathers, and clay. Riverclan often makes clay bowls and decorations, which are used to make many tasks easier, such as delivering water to sick cats. 

Riverclan often names their kits after water, the plants found in their territory, fish, and things found in the water such as pebbles and shells. 

Riverclan has historically been the most accepting to outsiders, due to Riverstar’s nature, but by the time of TPB they’re only slightly less rigid than the other clans. 

WINDCLAN

Windclan has always lived in the open moor, where their ancestors can look straight down on them. In both the forest and lake territories, they live in a dipped clearing at the top of a small hill, and sleep open to the stars. Only the medicine den is an actual den, so herbs don’t get swept away with the wind. In the old territory, Windclan had tunneled paths all over their territory and used them very effectively. In the new territories, they begin tunneling anew and discover the tunnels underneath Windclan and Thunderclan. 

A unique trait of WindClan is their tunneling system, which faded from many living cat’s memories by the time of the series’ beginning. However, after WindClan is driven from their land by Brokenstar, Tallstar laments that if they’d still been tunneling, they could’ve won the fight, or at least stayed in their territory as no other cats would dare to follow them beneath the earth. Due to this, Tallstar brings tunneling back. 

Windclan names are often plants and animals found on the moor, or names after the weather and sky. 

Windclan doesn’t despise outsiders, but they certainly aren’t the most friendly. On one occasion, a Windclan queen accidentally took an abandoned puppy into her litter of kits and refused to let any warriors remove him — so Windclan raised the pup, who became a full warrior of Windclan and helped make other dogs stop bugging his clan. 

WindClan are so crazy religious, way more so than the other clans. Their healers are basically nuns because the only thing they wanna bone is god. 

SKYCLAN

Skyclan traditionally lived in the trees of their territory, dens forming from tree hollows and cats weaving branches together to make paths. Where they lived was one of the best-kept secrets of Skyclan. Later on, after Firestar revives Skyclan, they live in a gorge, most living on the ledges of it. Once they rejoin the main clans at the lake, their ancestors remind them of how they used to live, and Skyclan takes up tree weaving once more. Some cats are uncomfortable with this, however, so they instead live at the bottom of those trees, in dug-out dens. Over time, all of Skyclan transitions to living in the trees again. 

Skyclan has “odd” names, due to its reformed members being originally outsiders with their own naming traditions. Forest prefixes are becoming more common, though, and -leap and -spring are common suffixes.  

Once Skyclan is reformed, they’re the most accepting to outsiders among the clans, due to many still-living members being former loners and kittypets. They kind of just take in strays. Somewhere, in the far future, Ford F-150paw exists, and that’s a world i want to live in.

#erin hunter warriors #warriors #warrior cats #warriors rewrite #warriors au #rippling pawsteps

[necros-writing-stuff]

what do you dislike in Kylar?

(I won't be putting this in the Kylar tag - I don't want to make people who do like them feel bad. If you have an opinion opposite mine, I'd like to hear it though!)

They're extremely clingy, always talking about babies, and the "love" they have for PC feels more like a shallow infatuation. Especially with the reveal that they like PC due to being reminded of their parent.

PC takes a parental role in some ways with them : "You make me feel safe," (I'm paraphrasing).

They're incredibly childish in the way they "love", which makes complete sense for their character and backstory, but it's not a thing I find attractive or fun. Kylar's insistence on pleasing their parents (even in their current state) shows that they don't fully have a sense of self to me? They're still growing and lacking a lot of confidence.

My preference towards big, tall, angry middle aged dudes also just means Kylar has no chance at making it to the table. This is an Eden/Bailey/sometimes Doren zone really. Kylar's just not my type.

The extra cherry on top is just a fatigue due to seeing them so much. When there's a character you're already kinda meh about and the fandom loves them? You see them everywhere. It can make you like them, but it can also make you dislike them. For Kylar, it pushed me into analysing them more, and realising my dislike. Hence why I keep that tag blocked - because it is on me to curate my own internet experience.

I know someone will be like "Oh but the Eden and Kylar similarities," so lemme just highlight the differences so you can see how I view it.

Eden, while possessive and also a kidnapper, still allows the PC the freedom to what's in their head, as well as allowing free time. They don't ask you if you're thinking of others (why would they, you're already their's), and they have their tasks while you have your own. They don't hover over your shoulder, and even when you're first kidnapped, most of the day is spent alone as Eden does their shit.

Eden doesn't dress you up, Eden doesn't show things to you hoping you like them. While Eden has many insecurities, they don't seem to rely on PC to make them go away. While bottling it up is unhealthy, putting the responsibility on another is just as bad - and in this case, I choose the bottling it up. I would like to see Eden crack, though.

Eden takes on a more "parental" or "masculine" role (depends on how ya read Eden's actions) in that they will read to you, they provide the food, they aim to protect and offer warnings - but the playing field is equalised a little by a sharing of the responsibilities around the cabin. Not all of the way. Eden is still in charge. But a little.

There's a feeling of growth with Eden. What starts as infatuation and attraction based solely on looks or a perception starts to become something more - however unhealthy it remains to be. This may just be due to Eden having more content, a lot of which doesn't fit them, but with Eden there's a feeling of security. With Kylar there's just an anxiety that something could go wrong at any moment due to Kylar perceiving something wrong.

I hope this is comprehensible lol. I want to make it clear that this is not me hating on Kylar - they're a great character - this is just me analysing them and pointing out why that personally doesn't work for me while using something that does work for me as a comparison point. Love what ya love, carry on ✌

#oh i typed more than i thought i did #for the person asking my type here #its eden #spill your guts #anonymous #'nw kylar slander' #eden the hunter

[myun-saidthoughts]

love your work, thank you for being able to put all that i feel but cannot say into beautiful words <3

After reading your Venus in 12H post, I wanted to ask how Pluto would affect my ability to love, what i look for, etc. I’m currently in my 12H profection year and my 12H is just venus & pluto both in sagittarius. Or if you have any insight on a 12H pluto that would be great too, thank youuu

- sincerely, a cap moon*

*sun moon rising n mercury is cap

Hi thank you so much for saying that!

I as well have a Sagittarius Pluto 12H, along with Venus (and other planets/asteroids) but to be fair, I'm not entirely sure how Pluto will manifest, me especially having this as well makes it hard to pinpoint exactly what this might indicate.

But in a objective sense and as a reflection even, Pluto alone represents such deep transformation and change, it showcases our fears but also showcases how deep something we feel can go, Pluto is death and rebirth of the ego, it is the 8th house, it's taboo topics, it holds extremes, power, this type of energy is somehow open (you're aware of this energy, and you feel it) yet it's energy of that we're not entirely comfortable showing off.

And all of this sitting in our 12th house, the house of the unsaid, the house of the subconscious, the house that represents our dreams, past lives, fears, mental health struggles, the part of the self we unconsciously hide. This house is so far deep into our mind most of this energy is hidden away, even from us. The boundaries of how far we can feel really are nonexistent, especially when more than one placement sits here, there is an important 12th theme that we chose to experience and learn from when we entered this life.

Going off from themes in my life personally, everyone we meet we might bring subconscious (or conscious) change into their life. By just being who we naturally are; with how we present ourselves and by what we naturally are drawn to (our interests or natural talents).

In my life every single person I have ever became close to, I have brought change to them. Whether it's by unleashing their potential, by igniting their desires that they weren't even aware about, or by letting them understand their trauma and mental health struggles and behaviors even, there's been a change.

It's never from a shallow place or from a place where I am trying to gain something, instead since I am so understanding about psychology and occult, I naturally unlock the part of someone that they might hide away due to their upbringing and trauma.

In another sense, Pluto alone represents extremes, and having that in the house that holds the unseen dimension tells me the true depths of how soul is quite deep and boundless. Most of the transformations we might endure may be though things we aren't even aware with. The 12th house is opposite of the houses of mundane actives, work, tasks, it's the opposite of working with others, so this energy is very internal, we might be selective with who we share our energy with.

(Which is true for me, I don't openly give and promote my kind of energy to anyone and everyone I surround myself with. You have to bring meaning to my life, and if you don't I won't ignite that part of me that could transform and change you when it comes to your behavior patterns, traumas, mental health struggles etc)

Therefore when it comes to love; the love we are able to hold is so deep, and we might not be aware of it. We may not even be are of how deep we can actually feel. So once we find a soul that sparks a side of us that's not seen with others we might cling onto them, solely because we feel unsafe to fully love (if you're anything like me). We are afraid of giving a part of us that can be taken away, so once you fall for someone, letting go might bring turmoil or a burden you don't want to feel. Pluto might bring internal change for us and most connections we choose to feel will be deep and having meaning.

Deepening on aspects and natal placements the depths of this might vary, but Moon/Venus-Pluto/Neptune natal placements might create this to feel more heavy on the individual.

Love is something that we may not feel entirely safe to exert or to have because a part of us deep down knows just how transformative it can be for us.

We want something deep yet might run at the first sight of it, especially if that part of us that we hide away never really is seen, and if we find someone that makes us feel that one fairytale love we secretly desire, the pain of having them leave just is amplified.

I could be projecting a bit here since I do have a Scorpio moon and my Moon squares my Neptune, opposes my Saturn (my chart ruler) and my Venus sextiles my Neptune and I also have more 12th house placements.

But I hope I offered some new perspective for you!

#12th house #12th house pluto #12h pluto #pluto #natal 12th house #natal pluto 12th house

[terrence-silver]

Would Terry ever say ‘I love you’ to Beloved?

I have this firm convinction that if Terry Silver ever had to say 'I love you' in some crazy situation that calls for it he'd far sooner say it to someone he absolutely doesn't love and has no genuine attachment to other than what he can gain and make them do by buttering them up through dropping those performative, socially-expected, empty and otherwise fully hollow and strategic words, but even then, he opts not to, choosing instead the roundabout clever way, where he can convince an unloved someone he loves them without ever saying it and only ever implying, finding the act of confessing to love falsely particularly distasteful and, in layman terms, a load of bullshit, because even when entirely calculated and otherwise a collective of emotionally shallow syllables and nothing more, saying 'I love you' is compromising and comes with too many strings attached, and the last thing Terry Silver wants is strings he cannot so easily unattach attached, doubly so when he is attaching them to an individual that is temporary in his plans, because then there's always the need to get rid of some needy burden he enamoured way too much. After someone's expiration date in his life hitting there's always the task of getting rid of them and in such cases, Terry opts for practicality and playing it smart and antiseptic. Case and point, Cheyenne Hamidi's 'I love you' text is met with outright ghosting. But yeah, saying it to someone you don't actually love is easier if you need to. Comes with great benefits and nearly zero cost on his end.

Saying it to someone you do love, on the other hand?

Well, in that case, Terry opts to showing it, because he's naturally a man of action and acts of services extreme acts of services, most usually, and so, Terry Silver fiercely demonstrates his love, time, and time and time and time again until it is undeniable that he is devoted, that his heart is in it, that he loves to the bone, in his own...Terry way, and yes, while he is fully capable of convincingly lying through his teeth that he loves an unimportant person if he absolutely finds it is useful to do so, he is just as capable of spending an entire lifetime never actually telling those he truly cares about that they're loved in the classical sense and in the meantime going out of his way to ensure their whole existence, everything they could want, dream of, yearn, desire and even things they didn't know they desired is just given to them through either money, monetary favours, support, his guidence, the usage of his connections, protection or flat out hurting anyone and everyone for his beloved's cause, showcasing an odd, contradictive, albeit unhinged selflessness. Terry will do whatever it takes, however it takes, to achieve just that. So, no, when he is in love, you might not ever hear an 'I love you', but you'll feel it. To frightening degrees. A sensation not unlike the shiver that runs up one's spine before an earthquake. It is ironic that someone he couldn't care less about could, under the right circumstances, when the situation calls for excessive manipulation, hear a falsified 'I love you' that doesn't mean anything at all, and beloved? Beloved will already know they're loved. Words aren't nessecary.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #character analysis #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #love #love confessions

[soulfulmindtribe]

Who Are You? Finding our path can be a challenging task. With so many options around, what should we choose? With so many opinions, what to do? The way I see things, no one can know what is best for us.

As children, we need guidance but must find our truth for ourselves at some point. And that truth can sometimes be different from those around us. As adults, we often get lost in society's expectations.

For example, my parents are both engineers, reserved & private type people, and most times in control of their emotions. Getting an "I Love You" back from them is like winning the Olympics.

So here I am, Dora, interested in yoga and arts, dancing and painting, singing and writing. I enjoy talking to people, love romantic stuff and poetry, and my heart is always open. I love people, animals, and vegan food.

How is my value in a society defined? Do I need a title? Do I need to be rich? What do I need to be "accepted"? And do I want to be accepted in a place of shallow illusions?

My soul calls for peace and love, truth and expression, open communication and freedom of speech, reciprocity & respect, loyalty, and unconditional love.

It took me a long way to get here; I am who I am and love myself just as I am. I accept my wild spirit and don't want to tame it because it is meant to be free.

Do you already know who you are?

Lots of love, soul fam,

Dora

#soulfulmindtribe #selfdiscovery #selfaware #awareness #mindful #loveyourself #unfuckyourself #loveheals #emotionalhealing #innerchildhealing #innerchildlove #freeyourspirit #beyourself #kindnessisamust #loveandpeace #namaste #yoga #yogateacher #yogapose

#SoundCloud

[badbacksadsack]

I’m grateful to have a safe space and life and joy today. I woke up, albeit slightly tired because I was in waiting mode for the shop that I ordered between 11 and 3 but I did everything I set out to do. I have food, and toilet roll and just my basics sorted. I am happy I did another task at the same time as waiting so i could focus my energy and attention somewhere else. I managed to make some yellow dettol floor water which smells lovely and did the bathroom and corridor. I would like to eat breakfast and hoover today and enjoy some rest based living. Not let the noises of the day overstimulate me but be in control of what I am in control of, like my breathing, saying positive affirmations to myself when I need to, being gentle and loving because I need that loving compassion to feel like I have the energy to keep being resilient. I am about to come onto my period this week which is okay as it is completely natural, my body is doing great and handling everything I need her to🥹 I love how intentional I’m being with my peace lately, I don’t think I would have the peace I do had I been choosing to focus my time and energy completely on my previous unstable relationship, going through the rollercoaster motions. I love that I am choosing me, my peace, my stability and my future over fake love (performative romance), shallow attention and surface connection. I can be happy again I just have to keep letting go of the heavy baggage I carry, it’s a choice to be burdened with not loving self in a world that profits off having low self esteem. I love my reassuring smile, my perfectly human being body, I love my inner strength and resilience, I love my hair and my skin, I love how black I am all over, I love how much creativity and joy radiates all over my community all over the world. I know hate has been taught so it can be unlearned, I know the answer is love. I want to pause in kindness and to give the benefit of the doubt, because that’s how I want to behave, treat others and be received. I choose joy and choose me. I love myself and I know I have to be gentle setting and respecting my own boundaries, so I feel comfortable to set them with others and accept that everyone needs healthy boundaries to thrive. I’m getting out of survival mode, I have everything I need alhamdulilah from food to cleaning supplies to kitchen roll reserves to toiletries. I am grateful that I have everything I need and even when I don’t, I know I have the capacity to keep myself safe and nourished. I’m grateful to be here, praise be to the most high.

#loner #dysphoria #self deprecation #isolation #executive dysfunction #low self-esteem #depresso #anxious avoidant #isolated #actually bpd

[uighean]

(shows up 3 weeks late to the tag game with an outdated meme)

tagged by @galacticlamps!!

Tea, coffee, or soda? tea!

Dogs or cats? cats! I do have a soft spot for giant female dogs that are actually terrified of everything (I've dogsat for two different dogs like this & I loved both dearly) but I could never actually own a dog

Can you play an instrument?  ougfdhjkhg I have. left my bagpipes to languish for a looong time now.

What’s your sun sign? pisces. I am a little fish guy & yet I still get terribly seasick

First song lyrics that came into your head?  I'd been listening to soundtrack music so nothing came to mind, so I kinda cheated & opened spotify to look at what I'd listened to last on there. so.

please tell me that you want me and exactly how tell me how you'll kiss me when I touch down I don't wanna be away yeah I wanna be found oh I want you now now now

Do you have any tattoos? nope! I'm way too scared of needles and idk what I'd get anyway

Favorite place you’ve travelled? hmm idk? the bay of fires is probably one of my favourite places in the world though. one time I was there at sunset with hardly anyone else around and I just sat in a shallow little inlet of water between some of the boulders for a while & I think that's the closest I've ever come to experiencing complete and utter peace

What’s the last movie you watched? oh that's a good question omg. it's been a while. pretty sure it was s čerty nejsou žerty?? it's the wound washing scene for me....................

What languages do you speak? unfortunately I am a monolingual english speaker 😔✌️ I'm learning scottish gaelic tho. would like to learn czech and ukrainian also. maybe icelandic.

Do you have any hobbies? video game......

I would definitely like to do horseriding again if I have the chance though, I miss it so much. & also I would like to try archery. and go back to rock climbing. I realise all of this makes me sound like a fantasy video game character and I am okay with that. and I would like to learn to draw!! but idk if I have the patience to stick with the learning curve gkdjf

You can hang out with one fictional character for an hour, who do you choose? ok if I can imagine that this fictional character is both real/accessible and has entirely accurate knowledge of their real-world historical context. I am tying jamie mccrimmon to a chair and making him tell me about all the aspects of 18th century highland society that haven't been well-preserved/documented. be my historical source boy

Compliment yourself: I accomplished Tasks today!! stumbling bloodied and bruised out of hecking. linkedin. but I did actually manage to update stuff so that's good.

tagging @ettelwenailinon @vimbry @penny-anna @carrionthird @meadowlarker @kiraistired and @p0stscripter!! no pressure tho <33

#personal