#sigils & symbols: tw

[thebeautyofspn]

Hi there! Taking a quick moment to say, in contribution to join the effort to #SaveTheWinchesters, I took a little dive into The Beauty Of The Winchesters: 1x01 Pilot. It’d be great if you could join me by blasting up the #SaveTheWinchesters tag, so we can save this gem! (Here’s a little selection of some of the shots I chose for this episode. You can see the full selection on my Twitter*) 🖤🤘🏼

*also now on @thebeautyofthewinchesters

#the winchesters #thebeautyofthewinchesters #john winchester #mary campbell #carlos cervantez #latika dar #lata dar #millie winchester #save the winchesters #ada monroe #samuel campbell #the core four #sigils & symbols: tw

[rue-in-hatchetfield]

tw// mentions of violence, injury detail, stabbing mentions, fairly negative thoughts

[ rue reappears on the floor of cal's apartment, between the coffee table and the couch, breathing heavily. she sits still for a minute, taking in her surroundings. the laptop still lies open on the table, a comb beside it, a clock is ticking somewhere in the apartment and her hoodie is on the couch behind her. she fiddles with the ripped fabric of her shirt, checking to see if there was any wound where she was stabbed but there was nothing but a thin, white line where the knife had been embedded. ]

[ rue reaches behind her shakily, pulling her hoodie off of the couch and over her head so that she doesn't have to look at her blood-stained top. she feels something sting against her neck as she pulls it on but can't see what it is when she looks down. rue runs her finger along the area softly, feeling a scab forming over the skin where the knife had been pressed. ]

[ she's completely drained. all she wants is to sleep. but she could barely sleep before today, never mind now. rue pulls her knees up to her chest, trying to stop thinking, even for a second. she doesn't think she'll ever be able to speak to ethan again without seeing wiley behind his eyes, even if he isn't there. she's not sure if she'll be able to close her eyes without seeing the knife, or the basement, or tony, or the farmhouse, or his hand on her throat, or- ]

[ rue squeezes her eyes shut, tight before she opens them again. she doesn't want to think about that. the pain had been insurmountable and she hadn't been able to scream. she didn't even know if she could talk, now. but even if she could, rue isn't sure she'd want to. ]

[ she has to stay awake. she catches a look of her reflection in the black screen of the laptop. she looks like shit. her hair is matted and disheveled, bruising starting to develop on her neck where 'ethan' had held it. the scab on her neck wasn't as noticeable as she thought but the sigil on her forehead has scabbed too, much more obviously. she reaches up, her fingers tracing the symbol, remembering the knife again. ]

[ rue pulls her hand back down, fiddling with hair, trying in vain not to think about... anything, really. she notices the comb beside the laptop again. she's not going to sleep anyway. rue picks up the comb and starts sectioning her hair, slowly and carefully. braiding was usually relaxing, and when it wasn't, it was a good distraction. the repetitive, methodical movement of separating and weaving her hair took enough concentration that her mind wasn't likely to wander, not until she was finished anyway. ]

[ usually she braids with music, or on facetime, or watching true crime. tonight, she braids with the soft clicking of a clock behind her. ]

( ooc - feel free to interact in any way that works !! )

#hatchetfield roleplay #hatchetfield rp #rp #starkid rp #oc

[madame-fear]

*ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 .ೃ࿐

.·:¨༺ [ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. ] ༻¨:·.

— summary : (y/n) Velaryon is Lucerys' aunt, Laenor's close cousin, and Vaemond's daughter. Lucerys nurtures a deep love and admiration for her Velaryon way of being, making him fall hard for his aunt, unaware his feelings are mutual. But how will their relationship be shaken when her father tries to claim himself as the true heir of Driftmark? — requested? : yes, by my beloved @faces-ofvenus. Happy birthday precious, hope you have an amazing day, and you enjoy your reading! 🥺🥳💐 — word count : 5.4k

— pairing : lucerys velaryon x velaryon! aunt! reader — genre : fluff.

TW │ mentions of incest content (aunt-nephew mutual crushing), and some minor cursing.

ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter One ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Two ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Three ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Fourೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Five

The gentle ocean waves softly crashed against the rocks of the Dragonstone Castle, creating a soothing splashing sound in the atmosphere everytime it clashed against the stones.

As Rhaenyra stood outside the castle, she watched the boat you were sailing in with a small troop slowly approach from the light mist, appearing to near sight in a leisure way, causing her lips to curve into a warm, gentle smile. The Velaryon sigil and symbolism sewed in the black flags that flew along the cool breeze of the wind were properly seen the closer it got to Dragonstone. From the full end of the sailingboat, your figure appeared, covering slightly your face from the vivid rays of the sun with the back of your hand, immediatly spotting the Targaryen Princess, who had been the wife of your late close cousin Laenor, and greeting her with a mere hand wave, accompanied of a rapturous toothy-grin forming upon your lips. Noticing this, the platinum-haired woman waved back joyfully, awaiting patiently for your arrival after nearly one and a half year of not seeing each other, with both her hands tightly clasped and resting in front of her body.

Once the ship moored at a dock near the grand castle — and rather quickly — you waved goodbye to the small troop that had taken you to Dragonstone with a gentle grin on the corner of your lips, and immediatly rushed to Rhaenyra, who was the mother of your late cousin's three sons. Despite the legitimacy of their blood being often questioned, you constantly defended your most beloved nephews to no end. And even though by blood the boys and you were meant to be second cousins, from early childhood the three boys always thought of you as their aunt... and it remained that way.

“My sweet (y/n),” with her arms wide open, she calmly greeted, as you embraced her by wrapping your own arms around her body, and without hesitation, she immediatly returned it. “My dear Rhaenyra.” you greeted back, slowly rocking your bodies to the side as you embraced each other lovingly. A warm sense of comfort and familiarity washed over you after what felt an eternity of not seeing each other, you swore you could feel your cheeks beginning to hurt from how broadly you smiled. Slowly, both of you began to pull apart from each other, and looked deep into your eyes.

“Welcome back to Dragonstone, (y/n).” her hand was placed on your back as the two of you began walking side by side, the Princess guiding you inside the unfamiliar castle. It was a quite a grand castle with large mesmerising dragon statues all over it's outsides, and one whom gracefully shone with the blazing sunrays of the forming twilight. “You must be tired from such a long journey, I pressume?” she inquired with a gentle smile tilting her head very slightly to her side, her lilac eyes staring into your (e/c) ones as your hairs flew smoothly along the wind. Snapping from your own trance of thoughts upon hearing your voice, you shrugged. “It was a long journey indeed, but I don't think I'll ever get tired from navigating across the ocean waves.” you retorted with a smug grin, causing her to chuckle quietly. Before she could reply or speak anything else, you continued; “And how are my nephews?” you asked, genuinely curious. It had been quite a long time since you had last seen them. You had no doubt, they must've grown quite rapidly since the last time you were all together.

Of course, you loved the three Velaryon boys equally, and you were the most overprotective relative of them. However, a notorious tension between your secondborn nephew, Lucerys, and you were felt whenever you were together in the same room. It had always been felt. His hazel eyes would nevear leave yours, or would give you side looks, in any family conversation Lucerys always found a way to bring the topic of you into it. There was a small sensation of a growing passion for you, though he denied it even to himself, and passed it as a mere "admiration for his aunt" for being a true Velaryon who wasn't afraid of navigating, knew exactly how to avoid seasickness, and you had an extraordinarily sense of freedom that he so wished to have himself.

But over the course of time, whenever his heart fluttered at your loving smiles when you caught him eyeing you, he knew admiration wasn't the only thing he felt for you. It was something else. Everyone could see it... Rhaenyra could see it very clearly. At the very beginning, she simply passed it as her son favouring a relative, but as she looked closely to your interactions, she realised the certain way you shared looks — and there, she began suspecting regarding her son's feelings towards you. Your shared feelings, as you always stared right back at him intensely.

“They've missed you, a lot.” she replied, a tiny smile remaining on her lips as both of you entered the grand castle together, after having walked quite some steps. If you were already amused by the outside of the castle, you were even more mesmerised by the insides of the castle; it was mostly full of Targaryen symbolism, dragon statues, and dragon heads carved on it's walls. Your eyes scanned the entirety of the castle, following Rhaenyra a bit mindlessly. “The boys are training at the moment.” Rhaenyra spoke, causing you to dart your eyes towards her, “Come with me, my dear.” she gestured for you to follow her. You did as she said, and rapidly followed her before you could get any more lost at the slight unfamiliarity.

As the two of you walked across the large, grey-ish corridors, some passing maidens and servants respectfully bowed and greeted her. The halls seemed never ending from how large and continous they were, though, they were a true sight to admire and behold. While you walked, she gave you a small "tour" around the castle, explaining how the halls were connected, the rooms, and showed you briefly the other places around so you could get familiarised, and guide yourself around the castle. After walking and passing through many large halls, you reached another grand door that lead to the outside, allowing you to explore the rocky island a bit more, and it contained a downhill path that allowed you to admire the view of the waving ocean.

“I'm certain the boys will be thrilled to see their aunt after a long time, my dear.” as she guided you towards the downhill path, she spoke. The refreshing scent of the sea flew along the breeze, your hairs and the dark cape you used when navigating flowed rather smoothly as you walked side by side. A grin appeared on your lips, your fluttering heart thumped against your chest warmly, and strangely enough, you felt... nervous, in a way, of meeting with them once again. Especially, meeting with your favourite nephew.

“As I am thrilled to see them.” you retorted, briefly gazing into her eyes and grinning, while you continued to walk.

The path was slightly long and silent, but enjoyable, and you reached quickly a small beachside that stood outside Dragonstone, allowing a perfect view of the grand ocean; some passing sailingboats were seen at a distance, and raven cawing was heard in the background. The ocean waves continously clashed against the rocks smoothly, bringing you a comforting sensation of being close to home. And as you analysed your surroundings while you stepped into the sand, the sound of continously clashing swords was heard faintly, causing your eyes to dart towards where the sound came from; encountering yourself with Jacaerys and Lucerys both sword training together, as a maester stared and guided them on their movements, and hits.

“They've grown up quite rapidly, have they not?” Rhaenyra's soft voice was heard, as she stood by your side while both of you watched the boys training with the swords, which vividly shone and glinted under the striking sun whenever one of the Velaryon boys swinged the swords. Your eyes focused on Lucerys, whose movements when swinging his sword were slightly weak and trembling, stumbling a bit everytime his brother's blade hit his own. His attention shifted from his brother, to you when he spotted both his mother and you staring at them from the corner of his eyes. The following movements were made without the properly required attention for a responsability such as swordtraining, his focus shifting from his brother to you continously.

Rhaenyra kept speaking to you about certain things you quite couldn't hear, as her voice faded in the background — leaving you focused solely on his hazel eyes, as your heart fluttered intensely, and you gave him a warm smile; an increasingly scarlet glint on your cheeks was seen, much like his.

In one of those sudden lack of attention moments Lucerys was having once he finally spotted you, Jace swiftly and vigorously hit Luke's sword with his own, rapidly tossing it aside to sand, causing Lucerys to, with eyes widen, shift his attention on the training with his brother, and accidentally stumble upon a small rock behind of him, falling on his back to the sand, and releasing a small defeated huff as he covered his face with his arm, as to protect himself from the dazzling sun.

“Be more careful with your brother, Jacaerys.” from a faint distance, you heard the maester lightly scold Jace, as the eldest Velaryon nodded in agreement, and leaned down closer to his brother. Luke stared attentively as Jace scolded him for being distracted, but his eyes rapidly shifted back to yours as his lips turned into an thin, straight line as his cheeks grew an even darker shade of scarlet from embarrassment upon seeing a playful grin quivering on your lips at the moment.

“Are you even listening to me, Luke?” Jace's slightly stern yet calm voice tone was heard scolding his brother. Noticing his younger brother's strange lack of focus, Jace abruptly stopped talking and explaining to his brother how to position himself for swordfighting, and turned around to where Luke was staring at: which was, you. Of course, a broad smile formed on his lip at the sight of his favourite aunt that he hadn't seen for sometime, and greeted you by waving which you immediatly returned, but with an understanding expression on his face, he turned to his brother whom still laid on the sand, and helped him stand up by taking a firm grip of his hand, and raising him from the ground.

“You can't be a bit less obvious, can you?” Jace muttered lowly only for his brother to hear as Luke swooped away the remaining grains of sand on his clothing, and his lips remained straight, accompanied by the intense fluster. Jace knew about his brother's feelings for you, he could see the way he stared at each other... anyone whom paid close attention to both of you could, in fact, realise that your affection was mutual — but he knew his brother would've to be a little more discreet with the way he felt for you. Plus, he had warned him several times already about the way none of you could take your eyes off each other, on other occasions when you visited the entire family.

“So? What do you think about that idea, (y/n)?” Rhaenyra's voice snapped you from your attention, which was fixed on Luke going back to train with his brother as his maester explained something to them that you couldn't quite catch — and you realised, you had listened to nothing of what Rhaenyra was talking to you. In fact, you didn't even know about what you were supposed to think about what she was talking!

“I, uh– What? I mean, yes, uh—” as you tried to recompose your thoughts, you stumbled upon your words briefly. “Yes, I erm, think that idea is perfect.” you retorted not even knowing what you were agreeing to, trying to keep a polite smile as you looked at her, whom returned you the kind smile. “Excellent.” she said, as she placed a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “And, how long are you planning on staying, my dear?” she inquired, slightly tilting her head to her side curiously. “Well, if it's not much trouble, I was wondering if I could stay with you for a full moon? I missed my family.” you replied, fidgeting lightly with your fingers — she nodded warmly, agreeing.

“Of course, make yourself at home.” Rhaenyra replied, a kind grin remaining on her lips. “Come, I will show you the chambers our maidens have prepared for you, my dear.” both of you turned around, and started making your way back inside the Dragonstone castle as she guided you, but not before briefly turning around and giving one last look at the boys, making a last eye contact with Luke. Noticing the sweet, gentle smile curving on your lips, he quickly returned it before going back to swordtraining with his brother.

Both boys wished to leave away their duties and greet their aunt after such a long time, but it wasn't the time to do so, yet. They would after finishing all their responsabilities, unfortunately.

🐉🏰🐉🏰🐉🏰🐉🏰🐉🏰🐉🏰🐉🏰

Dusk took over the previous twilight, making the sun rapidly disappear from sight, leaving place for the moon and the bright stars to appear in the sky.

After a long day of being shown around the castle, exploring it by yourself, and trying to set your things in the guest chamber Rhaenyra had maidens to prepare for you, you decided to step off outside for a while, leisurely walking towards the previous downhill path that descended towards the small beachside where the boys had been training. It was a nice way of spending time while you waited for the maidens to finish preparing and serving dinner.

The breeze of the night was calming, and enjoyable – a small, satisfied sigh escaped your lips as your eyes fixed on the moving ocean waves that had reflections of the bright moon. The sea was always your provider of comfort, it felt true to your nature. As you fluttered your eyes shut and softly inhaled, taking in the fresh scent of the sea and the cool breeze while being immersed in your own thoughts, a familiar, soft voice spoke from behind of you.

“Aunt?” upon hearing the voice, you opened your eyes quickly, and swiftly moved your head to turn around at the voice, finding yourself with Lucerys awkwardly staring at you; his hands clasped behind his back. You greeted him with a single nod, and an intensely growing smile on your lips. “Lucerys, dear nephew.” you replied, as the young prince shyly started walking towards you, noticing the scarlet glint on his cheeks at being near your presence. As he leisurely approached you, you opened your arms widely, signaling for him to feel free to embrace you, which he immediatly caught, and rapidly wrapped his arms around your body tightly.

His head fell to the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent, and you returned his tight embrace as your hands gently rubbed his back. “Missed me, I see?” you teased lightly with a small grin on your lips, looking down at the princeling, whom nodded in response. “I have. I was wondering when we would see each other again.” he replied, his voice sounding a bit muffled as his head remained tightly pressed against your neck. “I should've, at least, sent a raven – I apologise for not contacting you, sweet boy.” as your voice was tender, your fingers crept around his curls, and leisurely played with them by twirling his curls around your index fingers.

“I... I was simply overwhelmed with lots of paperwork and duties, love.” you continued, “But there wasn't a single second where I wasn't thinking about you, and your family.” slowly pulling away from the hug, you cupped his warm cheeks, making him stare deeply into your eyes with his big puppy ones. His lips had a shy smile as you reassured him; your hand softly moved some fangs of curls that very slightly covered his face, as his hazel eyes admiringly stared at you. “I have indeed missed you.” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off of yours. “How long will you be staying with us?”

“Your mother and I agreed that I'll be staying a full moon.” upon hearing your answer, a glint of excitement appeared on his eyes, followed by a broad smile. Your hands descend from cupping his cheeks, to taking hold of his hands. “Come, let us go for a walk, shall we?” nodding, he allowed you to take hold of his hand very tenderly, and both of you walked side by side around the beachside, occasionally admiring the ocean waves which shone under the glints of the moon. Unfortunately for him, you shyly let go of his hand, now grasping each other as you walked close to your bodies.

Amongst the sounds of the clashing waves against the rocks, there was an awkward silence between both of you. None of you knew where you were exactly walking to, you were just... enjoying each other's presence, and the quiet stillness of the night along with it's cool windy breeze. A sigh escaped your lips, and you turned your head to your side where Lucerys walked next to you, and you briefly caught him staring at you, making you release a breathless chuckle.

“You have grown since I last saw you, Luke.” you spoke in a low tone, kindly smiling at him. His eyes hesitated briefly to look at you as he stared down at the sand while strolling together, but eventually, he built up the courage to dart his gaze at you, trying to contain his excitement yet nervousness. “Thank you, aunt.” Luke awkwardly murmured, as his lips quivered into a shy smile for you. After that, silence overtook between both of you, as you kept walking side by side. It was hard for Lucerys to talk to you; not because he didn't want to, but merely because he thought extremely highly of you, and didn't want to accidentally say something you might possibly find stupid.

“Aunt, are you not tired from such a long journey?” after fighting with himself internally whether to speak or not, he managed to talk without his voice breaking, or slowly dying of nervousness. You softly chuckled, and looked at him, shaking your head. “The sea is my home. I have gotten used to navigate through the sea waves without growing tired, or sick.” his eyes admiringly stared at you as you spoke. You were a true Velaryon, and he wished he could be more like you were. Bold, you weren't afraid of navigating through the sea and you had an incredibly admirable knowledge about all things related to sailing. Sometimes... he couldn't help but find himself thinking that, perhaps, you should be the true heir of Driftmark.

He lightly scoffed, but to himself. “I wish I were more like you.” he mumbled, shaking his head. You furrowed your eyebrows confusedly, tilting your head to your side. “I'm not so... perfect, like you are.” upon hearing his self-despiting words, you furrowed your eyebrows. Before you could object against his statement, he continued. “I always become greensick when I get into a boat. I can barely tolerate sailing through the sea. I–” Lucerys interrupted himself, his eyes shyly gazed at the sand. “I shouldn't be the heir of Driftmark. You should be the true heir, not me!” his voice tone was slightly raised, as he managed to finally look up into your eyes. Your lips were formed in a thin line, as you shook your head. “No, no– Lucerys, listen to me.” some slurred words escaped your lips as you tried to rearrange your thoughts. It wasn't that you didn't know what to tell him, you knew exactly what to respond to his rambling against himself, but you just had too many good things to say about him that you didn't know where to start, continue, and end.

Both your hands were placed firmly on his shoulders. “My dear, I am far from perfect.” you begun, as a warm crimson glint formed on his cheeks at your intense, passionate gaze, feeling the grip your hands had on his shoulders. “You are perfect just the way you are. I was your age once, and much like you, I doubted myself as well. But, as I grew up, I fed myself with knowledge about the sea, navigation, about our House and it's legacy, I was taught such things by my own maesters...” as you continued speaking, your voice was stern; but only because you couldn't tolerate hearing him speak in such way about himself. “It takes time, but you will learn with the passing of time. You can't expect to have all the knowledge you need to have as the future Lord of Driftmark in the blink of an eye, you will be leisurely taught everything you need to know as you grow up, Lucerys. Don't rush yourself.” his head awkwardly nodded at you, understanding every single word you meant. Giving it a more insightful though, perhaps, you were right. You had more experience than he had, and Lucerys could see that you were clearly speaking from that said experience. “You will be an excellent Lord of Driftmark, I know.” you reassured, even if he still wasn't so convinced about it.

“And you know why I know you'll be an excellent future Lord of Driftmark?” your voice asked with a playful tone on it. His eyebrows lightly furrowed with curiousity, tilting his head to one side awaiting for your response. “Because I will be the one teaching you all about the sea, and our legacy of navigation.” with a quivering, excited smile growing on your lips, you responded quite pridefully at your own question. “You might have maesters to be taught High Valyrian, history, and other things... but I will personally ask your mother to be your own maester of the sea, navigation, and I will teach you the ways I used to avoid seasickness. What do you think, Luke?” With every passing second you spoke, his straight shaped lips began turning into a broad smile, accompanied with an even increasing reddish fluster, and his heart began fluttering quite rapidly at the thought of having the luck of spending more time with you, and having you as his teacher. Lucerys had to thank the Seven for giving him such joyful opportunity.

A warm chuckle outbursted from his lips at your light teasing, making you mimick his reaction as well. “Well, then I suppose it is only fair I get to teach you about dragons, if you will be my own maester.” Lucerys joked, trying to ease his excited nerves at the idea of getting to spend more time with his aunt, and hidden crush. You nodded, rather eager at his statement, broadly grinning. “Of course, sweet boy. We have a deal, but only if you promise me to trust more about your skills.” pinching his cheek lightly, you tilted your head to your side, awaiting for his response, your hand ascending to gently hold his chin with your fingers.

You noticed he was always shy and a bit awkward around you, and you found that very adorable. Sometimes he could only manage to stare at you rather than approach you to talk, but when he did have the courage to talk to you for a bit, you appreciated it.

In response, he rapidly nodded. “Very well, aunt. I will. We have a deal.” Lucerys mumbled a bit quietly, and you proudly smiled at him. “Good. And I will be waiting for those lessons with dragons, sweet boy.” you joked, placing a long kiss on his forehead... which, of course, he completely gave into the feeling of your lips giving him kisses, making his eyes shine with an excited glint. As you pulled away, and before you could say anything else, an idea appeared on his mind nearly like a recently lit up bulb. “It's been quite some while since you last saw Arrax, has it not?” he inquired.

For him, it was the greatest idea — he would try and impress you by taking you to visit Arrax upclose on his dragonpit since you never had the chance to pet the pearly-coloured dragon, and not only that, but you were willing to be taught by him all things regarding dragons and you'd teach him about the sea! Meaning, you'd get to spend more time the entire full moon you'd be staying. In the meantime, he'd think of a plan to convice his mother — and you — on allowing you to stay for a longer period of time; though he knew his mother would say yes in a heartbeat.

At his question, you lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “Yes, correct? I have seen him last time I was here, and only got to see a slight bit of him flying in the skies.” you responded, curiously awaiting to hear what he had to say, even if you already sensed slightly why he was asking you that. His warm, delicate hands took hold of yours, and began dragging you by taking hold of them. “Then, allow me to welcome you back by taking you to visit Arrax up close, aunt.” you giggled quietly with a certain joyful anxiety on your tone, as he dragged you to the dragonpit. “As long as he doesn't bite or burns me to ashes, I accept your offer.”

It was true, though. As used as you were to seeing dragons thanks to your own House's relationship to House Targaryen, you never had a personal close contact with a dragon. Even if you didn't admit outloud that you were slightly nervous, Luke could notice it right away in your facial expressions, and of course, your concerned voice tone, even if you joked around to hide the anxiety.

“Dragons can sense their riders emotions. Whatever you feel, they will feel it as well.” as Lucerys guided you towards the dragonpit, his grip on your hand remained, but was softer now. As it was dark, none of you could notice the light blushing on your cheeks from the contact. “Oh, can they?” you lifted an eyebrow as you queried. You knew you were definitely going to enjoy having him teach you about dragons. He nodded in response. “Yes. Arrax will surely sense that you are of no threat, as we... both have a special aunt-nephew relationship.” he reassured, and you nodded, your smile growing broader, along with your fluster.

“Yes, we do, Luke.” you mumbled as you were guided by him through the moonlit beachside. “If you say I won't get burnt to ashes by your dragon, I trust your word, then.” you joked, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

Pushing aside the naturally nervous feelings that the thought of meeting a dragon up close provoked you, you couldn't deny that you were excited. Not only excited for simply meeting a dragon closer, but to know that throughout the entirety of your stay in Dragonstone will include teaching each other about your own personal knowledge, and spending time together... as you had always desired.

🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊

The path from the beachside to Arrax's dragonpit was a rather quick walk — quicker than you would've originally thought.

As both of you approached the large, obscure dragonpit, your eyes scanned the pit with amusement, briefly stopping at the entrance only to admire the rocky structure. Then, with a mix of nervousness and excitement, you followed Lucerys inside the pit. It was cold and dark, but nothing that could bother you too much; it was rather impressive for you, as you had never entered a dragonpit before.

“Rytsas, Arrax.” your eyes darted towards Luke, as you heard him speaking in High Valyrian. A long, fiery huff was both heard and felt, as from the shadows a grand pearly coloured dragon approached the two of you. The dragon's large, amber eyes stared at you curiously, leaning closer to you as to inspect you. Your body stiffened upon feeling the dragon's hot breath against your body, as he carefully observed you. Lucerys, whom stood by your side staring at the interaction with a proud smile, playfully released a chuckle.

Shyly, you raised your hand in front of the dragon, expecting him to smell it, and so he did. Arrax smelt your hand, and quickly licked it as if it were a puppy — immediatly calming your nerves at seeing that the dragon approved of you. A long, satisfied sigh escaped your lips, as you grinned, and turned to look at the Velaryon boy.

“See? I told you he'd like you.” as the dragon kept licking your tongue playfully and huffing joyfully at your presence, Luke spoke with a proud expression on his face. You giggled, and looked back at him. Of course he was right; Arrax would like you, as much as Lucerys liked you. Dragons can feel their riders emotions and feelings, after all, so his dragon's reaction was of no surprise at all for him. His hazel eyes would not leave your overjoyed expression as you turned back to stare at Arrax and coo at him, intensely staring at you admiringly, causing his heart to flutter quite rapidly.

“Ziry iksos olvie gevie, nyke gīmigon (she's quite beautiful, I know).” as he approached Arrax a bit closer, he started tenderly petting his scales, while he spoke something in Valyrian that you quite couldn't catch... and he was grateful that you didn't understood. His eyes wandered a bit at Arrax while he licked your hand and face, and then he turned to look at you, slightly tilting his head to his side. “Why don't you pet his scales a bit? He will enjoy it.” your eyes widened, and you hesitated a bit at his statement. But seeing that the dragon apparently approved of you, perhaps you could pet it like the green-eyed boy suggested.

The hand that Arrax previously licked went to pet the scales near his nostrils very carefully, trying to get used at the raspy texture under your fingertips. Your eyes glinted with amusement at the newly felt sensation as you petted the dragon, whom clearly enjoyed your touch.

“Ah, I would've never imagined such grand beasts would act like puppies when petted.” you joked lightly, causing Luke to chuckle, while your eyes never left Arrax. “I like him, he's cute.” your eyes darted towards his now, smiling shyly, as your fingertips kept caressing the dragon tenderly. A broad smile curved on his lips as well, a crimson shade appearing on his face. “Then, we could come visit him more often. I'm certain he will be thrilled to have you as a frequent visitor, aunt.” upon hearing his words, your eyes seemed to shine with an even brighter spark of joy, as you lifted your eyebrows excitedly. “Oh! Really? I'd be honoured, then.” it was a bit hard to contain your excitement, as it was notorious by your voice tone, and your facial expressions as you spoke. All your previous feelings of nerves were fully gone, luckily.

Before any of you could respond anything else, you briefly turned around to look outside the dragonpit, and you sighed. “I think we should get going back inside the castle, sweetling. Otherwise we'll be late for the dinner your mother organised, and she'll scold us.” you teased, turning around your head to look back at him as you spoke, as he nodded in agreement with a wide grin at your joking, and gave one final pat to Arrax's scales. “Besides, I have plans for us in the morrow.” as Lucerys gave Arrax his own goodbye and left the beast to rest once again, his eyes curiously looked at you.

“We will sail together in the morrow, and I will teach you everything you need to know when navigating.” as both of you began leaving the dragonpit as to make your way back inside the grand castle, his eyes looked at you excitedly. Words felt stuck on his throat at the thought of both of you spending more time together by yourselves, making his heart loudly thump against his chest nervously, but keen for the moments yet to come — and all he could do, was mindlessly nod as he followed you back inside from behind like a lost puppy; his cheeks fully reddened.

It was going to be an intense full moon during your stay, but a joyful one that would make him the happiest, as he gets to spend it with you.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys strong x reader #lucerys targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon imagine #lucerys velaryon headcanons #prince lucerys x reader #lucerys velaryon x aunt reader #lucerys velaryon x velaryon reader #hotd x you #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd x y/n #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon headcanons #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #the light that shreds through darkness

[emqaep]

Veiled Confessions

Summary: Aboard the Razor Crest, Din Djarin grapples with an unspoken connection to an enigmatic woman who has become an ally. When she accidentally sees his face, breaking the Mandalorian creed, guilt and apologies follow. As the two navigate their unspoken tension, she harbors a secret of her own. With a mutual understanding, they embark on a journey, unaware that her revelation could challenge the foundation of their connection, bound by creed and a concealed love.

tw: a tiny bit of angst

a/n: Don't be too hopeful for another part soon, it took me a shit ton of research to write this crappy text. As English is not my first language I had to find basic words and some synonyms to make it seem more sophisticated. If there isn't anything else I am apologizing in advance.

The Razor Crest soared through the star-strewn sky, the hum of its engines a constant companion in the vastness of space. Inside the ship, Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, sat at the controls, focused on navigating through the galaxy's unpredictable currents. His thoughts, however, were not on the stars but on the unspoken connection that had grown between him and you, the enigmatic woman who had become an unexpected ally in his journey.

As the ship settled into the quiet stillness of space, you entered the cockpit, your presence pulling Din from his contemplation. The subtle flicker of nervousness danced in your eyes, a stark contrast to the usual composure you held.

"Din," you began, your voice soft, "there's something I need to tell you."

He turned to face you, the reflective T-shaped visor of his helmet locking onto your gaze. "What is it?" Din's tone, always stoic, softened in concern.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of a small, worn-out symbol on your wrist – a Mandalorian sigil that had faded over time. "I... I saw your face," you confessed, a heavy guilt settling in your chest. "I didn't mean to break your creed. It was an accident."

Din's helmeted gaze bore into you, and though you couldn't see his expression, you felt the weight of his disappointment. The sacred nature of the Mandalorian creed dictated that revealing one's face was a grave transgression, and you had inadvertently become a witness to that guarded secret.

"I'm sorry," you continued, your eyes searching his for forgiveness. "I didn't mean to betray your trust."

A prolonged silence lingered, stretching between you like an unspoken divide. Finally, Din's helmet turned away, and you couldn't discern the emotions churning beneath the beskar. "It's done," he said, his voice unreadable. "But it changes nothing. The past is the past."

Relief washed over you, but the guilt still clung to your heart. Little did Din know, you harbored a secret of your own – one that, in your mind, felt equally weighty.

Later that day, as the Razor Crest touched down on a desolate planet, the two of you ventured out into the alien landscape. The silence hung thick, tension bridging the gap between you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered once more, the wind carrying your words away. "I never meant for this to happen."

Din's footsteps halted, and he turned to face you. Without a word, he reached up and slowly lifted the helmet from his face, revealing the scars that told the story of battles fought and won.

"You've seen me, and I've seen you," he said, his voice quiet but resolute. "Let's leave the past where it belongs."

A sense of understanding passed between you, and for a moment, it seemed as though the unspoken bond had weathered the storm. Little did Din know, though, that your past held a revelation that might shake the foundations of the connection you both shared.

As you followed him into the unknown, you carried the weight of your own secret, wondering how it would shape the fragile dance between Mandalorians, bound by creed and a love that dared not speak its name.

#fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfiction #pedro #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #mandalorian #mando #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian #grogu #grogu djarin #din grogu #the mandalorian fanfiction #fandom #fantasy #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fic #the mines of mandalore #x reader #mando x reader

[problematic-faves-appreciation]

“I get uncomfy with fictional Nazi tattoos” - a Jewish queer. Your input was not on their post necessary.

TW: Nazi mention

[Context]

I can't let you get away with what you're trying to do: Villain fans getting a tattoo of, say, the Imperial crest (Star Wars), Voldemort's Dark Mark (Harry Potter), or the Emperor's Coven sigil (The Owl House), symbols they associate with their fictional villain faves, is not comparable to a bigot having a swastika and SS lightning bolts on their skin.

When I see people bearing the Imperial crest (tattoo or blog-wise; e.g., it's their icon), my mind goes to Star Wars fans viewing the Empire as "Team Bad Guy", and liking it because their faves — Darth Vader, Thrawn, Eli Vanto, Crosshair, Orson Krennic, Agent Kallus, Rae Sloane, etc. — are/were on said "team." Like professional wrestling lovers who are heel fans. Furthermore, they're not any different from Pokemon fans who get Team Rocket "R" tattoos. What, do you think they "probably" endorse real life animal cruelty? Give me a break.

Maybe next time, they should not tag their post like this nor indirectly call these characters' fans "Nazi sympathizers" for woobifying them or whatever? Is that too much to ask?

*Sigh*

#star wars #harry potter #voldemort #emperor belos #villains #fandom #liking villains =/= endorsement #those fictional characters aren't nazis #answered

[circa-specturgia]

Fratricidium

A discussion of sacrifice, brotherhood and, love. This one’s a late scene in the plot, towards the end of the story, calm before the storm. I haven’t introduced Alix before, but, I plan to write another scene in which Cas and Alix meet for the first time, which would be fun to write after seeing their relationship in this light as well.

TW // Discussion of death, fratricide, the act of killing a sibling, or individual of a equivalent relationship. Note, no actual death occurs in this scene

“Please never do that again.”

His voice had spoken in their head a few moments ago, echoing ever so slightly when it had, now silent.

Cas stood silently at the far end of the hall, barefoot on the solid obsidian floor, which reflected the room in a perfect mirror, glassy, polished to perfection. His long black robes suited him a bit too well, simultaneously fitting him, and making him seem like someone else entirely to Alix’s eyes, unfamiliar. As he turned, they caught the wind from the sea, where the walls of the low-ceilinged hall opened into a veranda overlooking the water.

“Sorry, I won’t. I just…” Cas began before sighing, looking out to the dark waves that stretched into the horizon, unruly hair whipping in the breeze. “I needed to talk to you.”

They walked closer, the volcanic stone beneath their feet uncomfortably silent. The cold wind whistled in their ears as they came to stand next to him. They could recognize the golden shape he was fidgeting with. The tip of the godkiller spear. Nadir Keihäs, V had called it. His fingers would blacken and smoke as he ran his thumb across the etched design, turning it over in his fingers which healing momentarily, the wind carrying off all ash.

They raised an eyebrow to their friend, trying not to show their discomfort in noticing his eyes a molten pool, irises shifting between a deep brown and glowing divine gold.

“He’s… not listening, is he?”

The young man paused for a moment at this, turning to look at them with a look of mild confusion, before letting out a sigh of realization, waving tiredly to his eyes.

“No, no, that’s just me. It’s just us.” He reassured, before gesturing to the room, robes furling in the breeze. “I’ve managed to meditate him out. This place helps. Like on Coros.”

V had led them here when they’d first arrived, mentioning it’s property of being ‘hidden’ as he put it, the gold pillars on the walls etched with shifting symbols and sigils, the obsidian being a void of power.

Cas opened his mouth to speak again, before closing it again, eyes fixated on the ink black sea crashing against the cliffs, not meeting his friends gaze. They listened to the silence together for a moment. It reminded Alix of the quiet of the library, broken only by their friend’s questions and the turning of pages, replaced now by a gentle hum of antiapotheosis and crashing waves.

“You’ve been thinking on how to say it.”

“Yeah.” He finally managed to bark out an anxious laugh, before a grim smile shut his lips, even that fading within a second, carried off with the ash of his fingertips.

“If things don’t go— If he manages to...”

“Cas. I know.”

“Thanks.” He looked at them, and in spite of their eyes being so unnatural, the look in them was so human, so Cas. That comforted them.

“I don’t get it, though. Why not Ciro?” They asked, after another brief pause.

Cas didn’t meet their eyes, but they could tell he knew the question had been coming. He knew what they really meant. ‘Why me?’ They knew the answer.

Turning on his heel, Cas stepped back into the chamber, kneeling at a piece of black fabric that had melted into the floor so perfectly Alix had failed to notice it lying there. With a careful movement, the man unfolded its sides, revealing the hilt and shaft of the Nadir Keihäs. With a simple motion, he affixed the spearhead, running a hand over its length and muttering a command. As he stood, the spear hovered just below his extended palm, turning slowly in the air as he faced them again.

It was an odd thing, not quite so physical as it looked, a property to it that couldn’t be seen. The gold etched design was all gold, yet not uniform, with different shades and patterns across its length, its tip once simple, then again a complex figure, a crescent, blade, a— it hurt to look at… No, rather, it hurt to think about too thoroughly. V had called it a conceptual weapon, something more abstract than physical, tethered to reality, and while it had fascinated them initially, the way that looking at it echoed the word ‘spear’ in their head over and over, it unsettled them.

Running a smoking finger up the shaft, Cas’ eyes glowed, brown overpowered by gold momentarily before returning to an equal mix, and then tipping to his natural shade.

“Ciro’s too kind. I think he’d…” He began, before stopping, staring at the floor, and starting again. “I know he’d hesitate. I can’t give him that opportunity.”

He said it like even the word him was a bitter taste on his lips, squaring his jaw for just a moment. Alix had noticed he’d started to avoid using his name altogether.

“Tamara would never agree to it and try and find another way. Mask- I don’t even want to consider.” He continued shakily, choking up a bit. “Cyril and Adira, I think they’d both do it. If it came down to it. But—”

“But they wouldn’t be able to live with themselves after.” They finished for him, much to Cas’ gratitude, as he gave them a look.

“This is why I knew that I could talk to you about it.” He smiled weakly.

“Because I’m heartless…?”

“Because you have the biggest heart.”

Alix paused for a moment, stunned. The breeze picked up, cool mist spraying their face.

“I...”

“You, you love so, so much.” Cas paused, unable to meet their eye. He waved a hand around, apparently still struggling with the words, as though trying to grasp them from thin air, make them materialize. “To let me go so no one else has to, to—”

His voice broke, an anguished, strangled noise.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, just barely above the wind. “I know what I’m asking of you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

In a rush, they grabbed his robes, pulling him in, as he broke down, repeating it quietly. They still had to stand on their toes to hug him. He still had that scent of Lavenda and woodsmoke, just like always.

It took a minute before he stopped shaking, standing up straight again as Alix held them at arms length. They reached a hand to his cheek, brushing tears from his eyes with a thumb, as he gave a sigh, finally meeting their gaze. Pure dark brown on vibrant purple. They didn’t need to say anything more.

“I’ll do it. For you, brother, I’ll do it.”

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed ✨

#circa specturgia #wip.circa specturgia #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing #wtwcommunity #other writers! #tw // death #tw // implied death #tw // fratricide

[saarasabaku]

DMC OC Week Day 5

Day 5-Round 1-Part 1

TW/CW: Violence, and a brief Self Harm mention

Weapons:

All of Saara’s weapons as of now were personally made by her, well all except one. They are not Devil Arms as they contain no Demonic soul within them but they do all contain Saara’s power so she has dubbed them Demonic Arms instead.

Kokytos:

A large Demonic scythe especially made to store and channel Saara’s Chaos energy.

Every slash can, if she chooses, fire off waves of the very same energy it has stored inside. Making it excellent for clearing out large groups and long ranged combat. It’s extremely heavy, though the way Saara wields it may suggest otherwise. She can easily cleave through entire scores of Demons or whatever else may be in her way without even breaking a sweat. This weapon also has the ability to absorb any soul and use it to give the user a buff or it can take on the properties of the soul(s) it absorbs, picking and choosing from whatever abilities that being may have had at random.

Aaraksha:

A katana hand made for Saara by Vergil, a symbol of their friendship and of their loyalty to each other. 

“A worthy gift for a loyal Knight…”

“Are you blushing Vergi?”

Vergil clears his throat and looks away, handing Saara the sheathed sword.

“Do you accept?”

She giggles at his bashfulness 

“Is that all I am to you, your knight?”

“No, you are… A true friend…”

“Heh, I see. Well then of course I accept.” 

This weapon looks and functions similarly to the Yamato, due to the way Saara’s powers manifest through it. The pommel has Saara’s family sigil engraved upon it, a tree growing in a braid like fashion around a sword with six fruits dangling off its branches. Each one is a different jewel, to represent the six Primordial beings, Saara’s family. The hand guard is decorated with various leaves and vines.

Saara can use Araksha to cut the very fabric of reality by channeling her powers over Space. She uses this to cut down foes with blinding speed and precision, teleporting around the battlefield in a beautiful, but deadly dance, of which there will be no escape.

Sweet Blasphemy:

A set of physical and spectral chakrams, used for both melee and ranged combat.

These weapons are specially made to have an affinity for elements, allowing Saara to imbue them with any of the three elements she has at her command: Fire, lightning and Chaos. When thrown they have the ability to track targets as well as return to their user after attacking. Saara tends to skate around the battlefield with the physical versions on her feet, using Chaos magic to float around. When she does this, the Primordial will use mostly her legs during combat but keep an eye on her hands as well for she can summon the spectral pair at any time.

Herself:

Saara much prefers unarmed combat to armed and will do so more often than not. The thrill of ripping apart her enemies with her bare hands, rending them with tooth and claw is something she just cannot pass up.

Abilities:

Superior strength:

If Saara wished to she could bench press a multiverse with easy (The Demon World or anything like it) She could lift it, throw it, play a fucking game of catch with it, easily without breaking a sweat. AND Saara could destroy one just as easily, more than one if she really wanted. It'd be child's play for her and all the Primordials but her especially since Saara’s strength is in an even higher tier then them.

Superior speed:

Much like her strength, Saara’s speed is in a league all its own. She is faster than even a being who can bypass the very flow of time itself. Her warps are incapable of being tracked, and Saara’s attacks… Well if she’s attacking with all her force, enemies don’t even have time to react before being completely eviscerated down to their very soul.

Superior healing:

Saara can heal any injury faster than the blink of an eye, this also prevents most toxins or poisons from harming her significantly. At most they will slow down her body's natural healing ability depending on the potency.

Immortality:

Saara cannot die. She cannot be killed, erased, or anything else of that nature. Saara cannot even kill herself no matter how much she may want it… 

Spectral Weapons:

Saara learned to create spectral weaponry for ranged combat from Vergil and uses two types. The Abbadon blades made in the image of her Fathers sword Mother Chaos and arrows named Skadi, which she uses less often. Both these abilities function similar to the Vergil’s Summon Swords, and Saara can also change their size and wield them like melee weapons as well.

Demonic Elemental Mastery:

As a hybrid born from two Demon parents Saara was born with an inherent ability to bend the elements to her will. Saara’s Mother was an Elemental and had dominion over Lightning and an affinity for nature. Saara also has this ability and has long since mastered Lightning and she uses her nature affinity for gardening purposes.

Through experimentation Saara gained control over fire, Berial’s blood granted her this.

Throughout her years she has learned to wield it with precision. Her flames are hot enough to sear away the soul.

Space:

This power is one Saara inherited from her Father, it allows her to jump to any area or dimension at will. She can also open portals to transport herself or others wherever she pleases as well as store objects in tiny pocket dimensions (Pocket Portals)

Chaos:

The energy that makes up the very universe itself. 

Saara can bend any being that was made from/uses it, to her Will (Demons, witches, magic users, ect.)

With this power Saara can bend all of reality to her Will, Creating something from nothing, turning enemies to dust with a simple word or thought, nothing is beyond her once the seal is broken. She can even heal Demons or beings who use Chaos as well. If Saara wants to she can create Chaos pockets of varying sizes to buff herself and enemies as a byproduct.

Energy manipulation

Most Demons have some type of energy manipulation of varying degrees but Saara’s is rather unique in the way it functions. It affects her sensory abilities the most, enhances them, allows her to see things that most won’t ever be able to. Saara can sense energy from any living being and inanimate objects as well. This includes auras, souls and anything else that might give off energy like emotions. She sees these things as a vast array of colors and has mastered being able to read them with incredible proficiency and from incredible distances. (Ex. Saara can read someones intent without even looking at them) 

Saara can also talk to and understand plants because of her ability to manipulate Energies

Soul Manipulation:

Due to her mastery over Chaos and Energy, Saara can control and use the souls of others in whatever way she wishes, concepts also fall under this. If she were to consume a soul, she would be able to completely destroy it, erasing it's existence from all any and all universes or splice it apart to harvest any ability she wanted from it.

Flight:

Saara was born with angelic wings that she can use at will, they are black as the void and speckled with gold. When moving they shimmer like the night sky and are iridescent in the light. She is unable to retract her wings if they have been severely damaged, which could result in loss of feathers and dullness in color.

Close Combat Mastery

Saara’s not afraid to get her hands dirty, in fact she rather enjoys it. She has trained long and hard to master the Primordial and Elemental styles of fighting which can seem very similar to dances when used in combat. Both styles can be easily mixed with one another and are perfectly made for battle. There are many, many stances and Saara has perfected each one.

#dmcocweek #dmc #dmc oc #devil may cry #dmc saara #DMC Saara #dmc vergil #my writing #Day 5- Round 1- Part 1

[ami-incants]

Decisiveness Sigil

Statement: I am decisive Default Colour: Red Runes Incorporated: None Supporting Crystals: amethyst, azurite, fluorite, labradorite, hematite, jet, black tourmaline Use: Good for those who struggle with decision making, particularly those whose inability to make decisions stems from an abusive relationship(s). This sigil is your permission to take control of your life, in whatever way you’re ready for. It’s your reassurance that everything will be okay if you do.

Black - Grounding Green -  Financial/Career Success/Health Orange - Courage/Creativity Blue - Calming Pink - Optimism/Emotional Healing Red - Courage/Power White - Protection/New Beginnings Yellow - Communication/Confidence

Asks are open for sigil requests.

Click here for my Use of Original Content Policy. Under the cut for information on using sigils.

About Sigils

Sigils can be used in whichever way you feel most comfortable using them. They can be drawn onto paper, stone, wood etc to be placed inside a charm pouch or carried with you. They can be drawn directly onto the skin, the inner wrist being a popular location, as it can serve as a helpful periodic reminder of your goals/intentions for the day. Sigils do not have to stay visible/intact to do their job. You could stir a sigil into your stew/soup/tea, or draw it into your sandwich with mayonnaise, for example, before spreading it around. Do what feels right to you, there is no wrong way to use them if they are created with the correct intentions. When drawing the sigil, think about the affirmation and visualise it already achieved.

#ami makes sigils #decisiveness sigil #sigil #decisiveness #decision making #wiccan #wicca #pagan #decisiveness symbol #tw: abusive relationship #lack of autonomy #regaining autonomy

[feytouched]

the sign of waning: a sigil to help me cope with my eating disorder and body image issues by increasing the energy and motivation to work out, eat mindfully and love myself. ok to reblog/use with credit.

i received and read laura tempest zakroff (@owlkeyme)'s book "sigil witchery" today - highly recommended! - and wanted to put its ideas to work. i guess this could count as inktober...? i might continue it with a sigil a day for practice.

#sigil #sigil magic #sigil witchery #laura tempest zakroff #tw ed #waning moon #witchraft #witches of tumblr #witchblr #symbolism #sympathetic magic #magick #sigil making #witch #inktober #modern witchcraft #chaos magick #traditional magic #moon magic #moon witch #mine

[mrrightandmrbubble]

Things You Might Have Missed in Studio 666

Because of course this was going to happen.

(TW: Gore)

The fake Dream Widow plaque that may indicate what this full EP due on the 25th could be titled

Director BJ McDonnell said this opening scene was a lot more ick than what made it into the film (and based on a flash a few minutes later, he’s not wrong - keep reading)

The Sigil of Baphomet in the background - the ‘official’ symbol of the Church of Satan

When the news broke about the Dream Widow massacre in this fictional timeline, Nirvana were in Davenport, Iowa IRL

1) The second mockup Dream Widow plaque; 2) The artwork on the wall behind them is similar to what can be seen throughout the Encino house - almost foreshadowing

The costume department spent $0.00 on Taylor Hawkins

Jeremy Shill has Barb Weems assigned as his first contact on speed dial

I might be wrong but this looks like Taylor’s friend Hans Hagen casually crossing in the background

The Big Red Delicious - Foo Fighters’ first touring van

According to a crew member, this was the first scene they filmed. Also, Nate goes in for a handshake and gets knocked back

Shifty, sir, you’re taking the wrong path

So yeah, this is what I meant by toning down the ick

The jump scares that flash each time Dave claps are the faces of the trapped members of Dream Widow

There’s a poster for The Figurines in Greg Noll’s room, in 1993, except The Figurines didn’t release their first EP until 2001, whoopsie doodles

Once you notice recurring symbols with five points planted throughout the house, representing each member of Dream Widow and all members of Foo Fighters who will not survive...

This artwork was commissioned for the film - artist is Nalani Williams

This couldn’t really be any other album but LP2 by Sunny Day Real Estate, could it?

The picture on the wall behind him is never shown in focus but it looks like a younger Dave and his mother Virginia

Think of the pain Dave was going through to have to pretend he didn’t know shit about running a barbecue for the sake of this joke

Mossburn Island Blended Malt Scotch Whisky

Who dumps iceberg lettuce on a plate in the middle of the table like that? Who do you think you are?

No notes, just offering this as a reaction pic

Remember when we thought Dave’s neck had gotten so thick that it broke his Mjölnir necklace because we didn’t see it for a while? We can rebuild him, better, stronger

The 2019 Pula poster

Absolutely no one thought to use the crucifix figurine on the shelf at any point in this movie

1) The five points on the decorative thing above his head; 2) The text on the poster reads “Fear Beyond Imagination”

The metronome on the bedside table and the obvious wink here

Visual hat-tipping to The Exorcist

Was the fact that the delivery guy looked so similar to Dave a deliberate choice or

Further evidence that Dave has this shirt in every imaginable colour

Another cluster of five - the candle holders on the wall

I get that they wanted to make most of the effects as practical as possible but cardboard on a dolly is never going to look like anything else except cardboard on a dolly

Pilfered filing box from a law firm that has nothing to do with its contents

THE BUCK ROGERS DISINTEGRATOR PISTOL, HAIL HOLY SHIT ON HIGH

I don’t think the creative team had someone like me in mind, who would go through this frame by frame and would point and laugh this loudly

The shadow hand on the right

You. Can. Never. Have. Too. Much. Ranch

Stunt hands by Steve Vai (no, really)

‘666 Presents’ on the punk posters

For anyone who might need this. Someone very well could, I don’t know your life

Continuity oopsie: Between shots, Pat lifts his head off the bog roll twice

Pat is always the closest to breaking throughout this movie but here, he’s not even trying

Dave whacks in one direction, Taylor’s head turns the other

They all play their signature instruments or variations/custom versions of them

Dave’s Gibson Elvis Presley Dove, with the six-pointed star added for the film

FF show posters: Portland 2018/Vegas NYE 2017

While Barb is yucking out over the food on the ceiling, i’m wondering what has gone so wrong in their lives for a pile of instant noodles to end up draped over the board

We never got an explanation for these dolls, did we? Was there ever one? There wasn’t one. Unless - dolls, ‘Doll’, “i’ve never been so scared”. I’m reaching

Whiplash reference

The runic alphabet, but put your thing down, flip it, and reverse it

AGAIN, FIVE, THE FIVE, THE THING WITH THE FIVE

Pat slips very briefly on the spilled pool water on his way over

Except for Chris and Rami, the band members are killed in the reverse order in which they joined the band - leaving the OGs to battle in the film’s climax. Bwaaaw

You can briefly see the blood bag in Jenna Ortega’s hand before she squeezes

Bringing their own wardrobes to work right down to the undies (I don’t know how to feel about knowing this)

BJ said the original idea for the ending was for Tenacious D to show up and take the book. WE COULD HAVE HAD THIS

A subtle sign that the curse is complete during this scene is Dave’s darkened eyes after Shill says the final incantation

Jimmi Simpson was brought in as an acting coach for the band around the time of the table read, but he buggered off by the time they were shooting

Looks like a room in Studio 607, the band’s newest studio adjacent to 606

‘Hair & Make Up Artist to Lionel Richie’

#ff: things you might have missed #studio 666 #foo fighters

[noirapocalypto]

Profile - Info - Trivia

*TW: Drug Abuse, Suicide

The Basics

Name: Isiah Hale

Stagename/Alias: SVLEM

Age: 28

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Gay

Gender: Male

Birthday: January 28

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Languages spoken: English

Born in: Houston, Texas

Resides in: Northside, Night City

Lifepath: --

Occupation: Rapper, Singer, Songwriter

Appearance

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Naturally green. Uses mismatched optics: one black sclera with a white iris (with geometric occult designs) and one white with a black X.

Notable Features: Salem has faint scarification design on his face, as well as various facial piercings. His entire left arm is cybernetic, which retractable metal claws on all five fingers. His heterochromia are the most notable feature of his.

Height: 6'2" (188 cm)

Weight: 215 lbs (106 kg) - cyberware included

Tattoos: Almost every inch of Salem's skin is covered in black and white tattoos. From his organic arm to his torso, even his back and legs. He also sports a few facial tattoos as well. All of which have occult themes to them, such as ritual symbols, sigils and various other symbolic images.

Personality

Positive Traits: Creative, quiet, artistic, talented, private

Negative Traits: Pessimistic, nihilistic, self-destructive, addictive, antisocial

Description: Salem is a deeply complex and tortured individual. He denies and minimizes his trauma and insists that he has his emotions and mental health under control. This is far from the truth, and often turns to extremely unhealthy ways to cope. Salem has an addictive personality, finding comfort in drugs and anything that makes him feel good or makes him feel numb--albeit temporarily. Off stage, he's an introvert--very quiet, soft spoken and reserved. He doesn't like people meddling into his personal life or attempting to get to know him on a personal level. He's standoffish, doesn't like people getting into his bubble and finds himself easily annoyed with bratty and childish behavior. He has no problem telling someone to 'fuck off' if he's not interested in them or if they've gotten on his last nerve. He's reclusive and mostly just wants to be left alone unless he has personally invited someone to hang with him, can provide him with more drugs, or has actually taken a liking to someone. On stage, Salem pours out his anger and frustrations into his lyrics in that deep, guttural voice of his. He's open about his depression, his drug addiction and his attempted suicide/suicidal tendencies. However, he does not glorify this behavior and makes this point across by describing how awful and miserable he feels on a daily basis and how he would not wish his life on anyone. Salem is very reckless and often puts himself in situations where he can be gravely harmed or possibly killed. However, none of this matters to him and often finds cynical amusement in these scenarios. He has little to no care about his own well being, especially while he's under the influence. Beneath his extremely difficult to crack exterior, Salem is capable of being a caring person. When he decides to allow himself to feel an attachment towards someone, he begins to soften up and be much more gentle and vulnerable around them. He becomes playful, enjoying to laugh and joke. He'll even give one of his rare smiles. His love is quiet and subtle, but still there. He's willing to open up and let them inside, little by little. However, he tries very hard not to let this happen. He's deeply terrified of any emotional or mental pain that might come with allowing himself to 'feel' for anyone else.

Relationships

Family: None (absent mother, deceased father)

Affiliations: Often performs at Totentanz. While not an official member, he is friendly with Maelstrom.

Friends: --

Enemies/Rivals: TBD

Significant Other: --

Background

Born as Isiah Hale, he grew up as an only child in Houston, Texas. His was an unexpected pregnancy that resulted in his mother and father being obligated to remain in a relationship that would ultimately become strained. His father was loving, doting and caring, while his mother–who had no interest in being a mother–was rather cold. His parents fought and argued often, with his mother being more of the aggressor while his father was more passive. Salem didn’t think much of this growing up, feeling it to be normal in their household.

When Salem was around the age of 7, his mother walked out on her family, leaving Salem's father to raise him alone. Throughout his entire youth and teen years, Salem bottled up the abandonment, refusing to give it much thought after he had ‘made his peace’ with it. All things considered, his upbringing was a positive one and he grew close with his father–considering him his best friend and confidant. There was nothing Salem couldn’t talk about with his dad, ranging from teenage heartbreak to advice on his future.

Salem had always been interested in music and the creative arts, but didn’t start actively songwriting until his late teens to early twenties, when he began writing down short poems that eventually turned into lyrics. It took a while for him to find his own style, but eventually Salem developed a musical niche for himself by combining several genres of music into what he now calls his, and stuck with it. His father, while unsure what to think of this odd new sound, was nothing but supportive of his son and his endeavors.

In his early adulthood, Salem fully dedicated to making his art into a full time career. He began to perform at small, seedy dive bars--making connections where he could while trying to build his brand. His hard work and hustle began to pay off, as Salem was beginning to grow a following. His stage name, looks and heavy performance style began to gain notoriety, which only attracted more like minded fans.

However, as Salem’s musical career was rising, his personal life was struck by tragedy. His father became sick with no signs of improvement. After moving his father in with him and becoming his caretaker, Salem’s entire life became a juggle of looking after his ailing father and trying to keep his blossoming career afloat. It was around this time that his drug use began, turning to whatever he could to keep himself focused and numb to the trauma of watching his father slowly deteriorate.

Despite his failing health, his father hung on bravely–with some days showing promise and others leaving him bedridden. Salem did what he could to make his father's final days comfortable--swallowing his own grief and burying his emotions. He needed to be strong, his father needed him. Unfortunately, his dad lost his battle and passed quietly one morning. The anguish of losing his beloved father--the only person that had ever loved him unconditionally--was too much for him to handle.

At the age of 24, shortly after his father's death, Salem left his hometown and relocated to Night City, in hopes of finding solace in a new environment. However, this only seemed to further send him into a spiral as he struggled with his grief alone. He turned to much harder drugs in order to cope, refusing to allow himself to grieve. His dependence on narcotics grew as he did all he could to keep himself numb to emotional pain. It was also around this time, that Salem had tried to take his own life in a botched suicide attempt.

Eventually, his careless, drug fueled habits became second nature for him–experimenting with anything he could get his hands on, or anything that was offered to him at his shows. It’s not uncommon to walk by Salem tucked away in a dark corner of Totentanz, snorting, smoking or huffing god knows what while surrounded by an entourage of enablers. Having no healthy support system, Salem began to spiral downward into a deep depression and reckless behavior–which only worsened as he began to isolate and close himself off.

Salem is now hanging by a thread, barely keeping himself together as his self-destructive and suicidal tendencies continuously threaten to tear him apart. But being the true artist that he is, the show must go on.

Miscellaneous

Trivia:

Salem was heavily based off the rapper Ghostemane and borrows similar lyrics, musical style and aesthetics. He also borrows inspiration from other rappers such as BONES and Scarlxrd.

Apart from making music as SVLEM, he also has produced and released phonk music under the moniker MVGE. This is mostly a side project and continues to mainly produce content as SVLEM.

Salem is one of the two OC's (the other being Judah) that offer gigs to other mercenaries.

He's not opposed to introduce himself by his real name, but usually always goes by 'Salem'.

Salem is very fond of the occult and even practices in rituals, tarot reading and spell casting, which he often references in his songs.

Pinterest Boards: [SVLEM]

Spotify Playlists: [SVLEM] - [MVGE] [ info subject to be added, removed and tweaked at will, he's constantly growing and evolving ]

#Salem profile #cyberpunk 2077 #long post #to be added to my pinned post

[arya-skywalker]

Stormy Nights (Sanders Sides Fanfic)

Anxceit Week Day 4: Storm

@ldrmas​ and @anxceitweek21​

Summary: Virgil shows up at Janus’s room during a storm, to continue their tradition of cuddling together even after Virgil is accepted.

Note: A few days late and a bit short, but still fun to write!

I’m going off the assumption that the weather in the mindscape reflects whatever weather Thomas is experiencing in the real world (except in the Imagination, Roman and Remus can control the weather there, but this fic isn’t about them)

Can be read as romantic or platonic/familial.

TWs: storms/thunder

AO3 Link

~*~

Virgil stood outside Janus’s door, trying to summon the courage to knock. It had been ages since he last dared enter Janus’s room, but there was a storm out. Before Virgil had moved to the light side, he and Janus would always huddle under the blankets together during a storm. It helped soothe Virgil’s worries about the storm, and keep Janus warm. The perfect combination.

A sudden boom of thunder made Virgil jump and hiss instinctively.

“Is someone there?” Janus called from the other side of the door. “The door’s unlocked.”

Virgil bit his lip. He could just turn around, go find Patton instead. Patton never said no to cuddles.

But it wasn’t the same.

Virgil took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Janus looked up from his armchair by the fire and arched an eyebrow. “Hello, Virgil. Fancy seeing you here.” He closed the book he was reading and set it down on a table.

“Ummm… it’s…. storming,” Virgil stammered, mentally kicking himself for being an idiot.

“Yes, I noticed.” Janus tilted his head to the side. “Go on.”

Virgil rubbed his arms. “I was… wondering if you wanted to… you know.”

Janus hummed noncommittally and stood. “Would you mind being a bit more specific?”

Virgil grimaced and looked at the floor. “Look, if you’re mad at me for leaving, I get it. If you don’t want me here, fine, I’ll go. I just… there’s a storm out which reminded me of you, and… I wanted to know if you felt the same. If you’d be willing to, you know, just… cuddle under the blankets until the storm’s over, like we used to.”

Janus smiled sadly and spread his arms— extending all six. “Come here, honey,” he said. “Of course we can cuddle.”

Virgil sighed in relief and practically ran into Janus’s arms, hugging him tightly and inhaling the comforting scent of home.

“There, there. The storm can’t hurt us here,” Janus said softly, stroking Virgil’s hair and back rhythmically. “Deep breaths, sweetheart.”

Virgil gradually relaxed, letting Janus lead him to the bed and drape multiple warm blankets over them both. “Thank you,” he mumbled, head on Janus’s chest where he could hear the heartbeat.

“Thank you for coming back. I missed you, shadow.” Janus kissed his forehead lightly.

It was nice, just laying there, warm and safe. “Missed you, too, fangs.”

The storm raged on outside, but the worst of it was softened in Janus’s room; thick black and gold curtains blocked the view and muffled the sound.

“You know what I always wondered?” Janus asked after a few minutes.

“What?” Virgil mumbled.

“You chose a stormcloud as your sigil. You hate storms. So, why?”

Virgil groaned. “Shut up.”

“No, really! I want to know.” Janus stifled a laugh.

“Ugh, fine. I wanted to make it a spider, but if I did then Patton wouldn’t be able to look at me, and besides Spider-Man kinda claimed the whole using spider as a symbol thing. It’s whatever.”

“Your next thought was a storm?”

Virgil swatted at one of Janus’s arms, but didn’t move from the bed. “I panicked! So yeah, I thought of the scariest thing that wouldn’t get me kicked out. Sue me.” He shrugged. “It’s like Batman rules, I guess, become what you fear to overcome it, or something.”

“Mmhmm…. How’s that working out for you?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “They’ve accepted me, so that part worked just fine.”

Janus snaked one of his arms around to take Virgil’s hand. “Be that as it may, you are always welcome here. Storm or not.”

Virgil squeezed his hand. “I’ll think about it.”

#anxceitweek21 #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #aryaskywalker writes #anxceit #virgil sanders #janus sanders #tw storm

[yandere-daydreams]

okay, not a request, but what about a delusional yandere hunter fighting a great, immortal, horrifyingly hideous beast-- a beast that just happens to me the darling's sworn protector, sought out specifically by the darling.

tw - mentions of death, implied torture/violence, imprisonment, gaslighting, delusional mindsets, slight victim-blaming.

I’ll raise you one - the darling is the monster, quite literally. Just hear me out on this. It’ll make sense, in the long-run.

It’s not your fault, really. You were obviously misled, manipulated, taken in by some vile, foul creature and turned into something that can’t help being as cruel as you suddenly are. I mean, that’s the only explanation for it, the strange sigils they found tucked underneath your mattress, the symbols and shapes you must’ve had to use your own blood to paint, and your new form - humanoid, but suddenly too strong, too scaled, too bloodthirsty to be held back by the chains and shackles they’d put you in, for your own safety, of course. They haven’t seen you with their own eyes, not yet, but you’ve already made quite the reputation for yourself, carving a bloody path through the nearest village, paying a visit to the friends that were always nice enough to look after you while they were hunting down their next mark, causing all the trouble you could before tucking yourself away in the furthest, darkest corner of the world and running from them, your caretaker, your lover. They’re insulted, really. If they didn’t know better, they’d say you were trying to stay hidden.

But, they can’t really be angry, not at you, not when they consider what you must’ve gone through. You must be so scared, so confused, so out of your depth that you can’t stop yourself from lashing out, even if they’ll admit some of the scenes you’ve left behind are rather gory. They’re not delusional enough to think they’ll be able to talk you out of it, you’ve always been the stubborn type, but there are ways to reverse these things, rituals they love you enough to put you through. You’ll hate them, in the moment, scream and sob and try to drive those claws of yours into whatever seems the most vital, but that’s fine, it’s alright, they’ll find a way to live with the heartbreak. They know you’re not yourself, right now. They know you’d never do something this monstrous, not to them, not when they’ve never been anything gentle with you. They’d hate to break their streak now, but they’re afraid you’ve brought this on yourself. They don’t plan on being overly cruel, but...

They’d be lying if they said they weren’t going to enjoy this. You’re still a monster, after all, and as far as they’re concerned, that means they can still take a little pleasure in freeing their beloved from the grasps of such an unsightly beast.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere theory #general

[mothmxwhump]

Day 1: Partridge in a Pear Tree: Tied to a tree|Given as a gift|Putting up the tree

(Tw: vaguely referenced noncon, memories of past whump, non-human whumpee, referenced caretaker x whumpee, ptsd, past display/pet whump

Bastet looked up in fear at the large, lush tree that dominated the sitting room. Aria had already dragged out a bunch of boxes, likely from the castle’s many storage areas. A warm glow radiated from the fireplace, illuminating the room. Nym had made their way to the mantle, and was sitting with their feet dangling above the warm fire. Tarron was cross-legged on the floor, digging through a box of ornaments. He looked up and smiled at Bastet as he entered.

He signed excitedly, “I was scared you weren’t coming! Nym was ready to check in on you”

Bastet nodded softly, not feeling like talking at the moment. Nym smiled, hopping down from the mantle and going over to him. “Take whichever ornaments you want to, but not the ones in the box Tarron’s got. Those are family heirlooms…” They trailed off, looking over at their boyfriend. He was staring sadly at an ornament, one of those miniature picture frames. It contained a photo of him and his parents, with Nym off to the side, accidentally caught in the frame.

Bastet walked over to the tree trunk, trying not to shake. Master-- Virgil, he wasn’t Master anymore-- Had always tied him to the tree for holiday parties, usually wearing thin, revealing clothing. He shuddered at the memories of people touching him, pinching and petting and hitting and---

Aria laid a hand on his back, xer touch soft and gentle. “You okay?” Xe asked softly, eyebrows knitted in concern. He nodded quickly, shaking off the sense of dread. Tarron and Nym had both begun putting up the ornaments, Tarron hanging expensive-looking baubles laced with gold and gems and Nym hanging medallions and pieces of burnt paper with sigils on them. He wondered what the strange symbols meant, and if Nym could read them. They probably could.

He picked up a few ornaments and hung them, trying to bask in the knowledge that he was among friends, safe in the castle, and that Virgil was dead and would never hurt him again.

#Bastet #Aria #Nym #Tarron #Virgil #collared prince #ocs #twelve days of whumpmas #fast forward

[comfort-questing]

day of the rite

*note: FE:3H characters -> TW whump of a minor (teen)*

---

nobody should have fallen to them but me.

I was the one who began it; I challenged the dark figure on the horse in the center of the torch-flare, where they barred our way to the mage beside the coffin. I chose it, I struck first and his rebuke was for me.

so too should his scythe have been for me, if life were fair, but I should have known by now that life is not fair.

I never let Ashe near the front lines. an archer in melee is a risk to themselves, and no benefit either; I knew that well enough from my younger years. so he was behind that pillar, where I had sent him. and when the thunder of hooves swept past, the flashing sweep of a bright scythe-blade in the fitful light, I had no time to double over with the sick terror I felt, only to gasp and to run onward towards the enemy leader.

Ingrid's lance dealt with the Death Knight in the end. so they told me, after. after, when I held the ancient sword as pale as burnished bone and as strange in my hands, and I gathered my students to me as Catherine's troops rounded up the stragglers.

after, when I ran to search the shadows, and found him there: a ragged heap of russet cloth and silver hair, stained and matted dark now, with blood spreading on the stones beneath him.

"Ashe!"

my throat nearly closed on his name. he didn't answer as I turned him over, his head lolling back, the massive gash crossing his shoulder and chest still seeping scarlet. at least there was that. at least his heart was still beating.

"professor..." mercedes's gasp at my elbow. "I don't know, I don't know if I can - "

I have always been good - Heaven help me - at doing, when others are caught in emotion and confusion. so it was then, even as some part of me was shrieking like a mad thing, I could push it back and back and speak to the others, tell them to run ahead, to warn Manuela in the infirmary, to help anyone else who had been wounded...

all the while with Ashe lying limp and motionless in my arms, his blood soaking my armor, my hands. it should have been me, I wanted to say, I challenged them, they fled like a coward, cut down a boy in their haste to escape...

his breath stuttered wet and ragged in the hollow of my throat, his head fallen back against the crook of my shoulder.

hold on, Ashe, this shall not be your last fight.

*

Manuela met us in the hallway of the cathedral, sleeves of her festival dress floating out behind her. her gaze slid past Sylvain where he leaned on Dimitri, and Mercedes holding up Annette; locked on me and my bloodied burden.

"oh, Goddess help us. what's happened? lay him down here, professor - "

faint floating golden symbols, interlocking rune-writ circles of magic, twining over him from Manuela's fingers. so small, so young he looked; I knew I had fought in battle when I was younger still, but nothing could make this feel all right.

Ashe twitched and moaned, a strained frightened sound, and I reached out to put my hand on his face as I dimly remembered Jeralt comforting me some time long ago. "hush, stay still, you'll be better soon."

half lost in the voices all around us, I heard Dimitri speaking above me. he knelt down then, tattered blue cloak brushing the floor, to close Ashe's hand in his. "stay with us, Ashe." my house leader's face was twisted and wracked with pain and worry, his lower lip caught between his teeth. "please stay with us."

(he had lost his parents already. I did not want to watch him lose a friend again either.)

it felt like hours until Ashe's eyes flickered open, until the restless rhythm of his breathing was no longer blood-choked, and the sigils faded above him. the ghastly bloodstains were still on his ragged clothing but at least the fresh blood had slowed its flow, and I bent forward.

"I'm sorry, Ashe," I whispered.

"... sorry... why, professor?"

"I should not have provoked the Death Knight. they rode you down as they - as they fled - "

"it's... all right." Ashe blinked, slowly, his eyes sunken in his pallid face. "did we win? are we..."

"all is well," said Dimitri firmly. and for a moment I thought I saw him smile. "all is well. rest now, Ashe."

"let's get him to the infirmary," Manuela said. "this was just to keep him from bleeding out, we aren't done yet. come on, and bring anyone else who needs help, too."

Dimitri turned, and put out an arm to Sylvain, who was sitting slumped against the wall now. "we'll come."

*

it wasn't until evening that I could get back to the infirmary, between Rhea's questions and Seteth's, between the investigation and the thousand-lined interrogation as to what had even happened and what would come of it all. but by the time I returned, the strange sword still hanging at my back, Ashe was sleeping peacefully and I could reassure myself at the sight.

looking down at him, so strangely fragile under the coverlet, his bow and broken quiver laid aside at the foot of the bed, I made a promise: never again will I let any of my students fall for a choice that I have made.

I knew even as I made it that I would not be able to keep it. but trying, sometimes, is the thing that matters.

#whump #fe:3h whump #minor whump #tw minor whump #crow writes a thing #crossposted to ao3 #am starting a drabble collection there

[sapphic-scylla]

@the-one-and-only-blake-llewell so this is that OC I was talking about. It’s fairly detailed because I’m a writer but there may be inconsistencies. TW for blood, horror, and mentions of abuse.

Name: Petra Naverrian

Real Name: Anezi Diasea

Nickname: The Heretic

Race: Protector Aasimar

Class: Cleric

Subclass: Blood Domain

Proficiencies: Medicine, Insight

Patron: Nytoria, Goddess of Judgment and Free Will

Alignment: True Neutral

Domain: Life, Balance

Symbol: Four hexagons, top and bottom two with arrows pointing up and down respectively, the other two with stars

Story: A goddess whose power is used to protect or take away mortality’s privilege to control one’s own fate and make choices while punishing those who seek to undermine others and subjugate or mislead the population. The power she grants her chosen are the abilities to elevate and protect others and manipulate, control, and punish the deserving. Believes in balance and that neither good nor evil should rule a generation and that each is required to fuel the destinies and desires of each individual, but those seeking power through greed or control or subjugation will be dealt with in the same manner and will suffer the loss of their own free will. Encourages her followers to protect the weaknesses of those you are loyal to and exploit the weaknesses of those they defy.

Age: 21

Height: 5’6”

Weight: 100 lbs.

Hair: Blonde with a blood red streak, tied in a ponytail

Skin: Pale

Eyes: Heterochromia, one green eye (L), one blood red eye (R)

Fashion: Trench Duster with one sleeve torn above the wrist on the right side, leather armor over a gauze wrap across the breasts and tight black pants, a belt across the waist and a three corner hat

Appearance: Right hand is wrapped in gauze with a blood red tattooed sigil on her wrist, which marks her as a follower of Nytoria and channels her abilities. Under the gauze is a massive slash through her hand that, while she can heal herself, doesn’t go away due to the amount of times she’s used it to fuel her blood magic.

Weapons of Choice: A Saber and her divine gifts

Personality:

The most brutal show-off in the world. Actively loves dueling and can have a bit of an ego. Enjoys her work as a bounty hunter and is a thrill seeker to the bitter end. Has a sense of honor and will always respect a disciplined combatant, but is more than capable of fighting dirty if her enemies don’t fight fair. Has spilled more than her fair share of blood and has no qualms in taking a life unless it's with her blood magic, which invokes her PTSD. Prefers to carefully assess a situation before killing someone and will exhaust every avenue before slitting someone’s throat. Learned from a young age to study and deconstruct people physically and emotionally, so has a very good eye for reading people and emotions as well as knowing the human body very well. Tries to act civil and mature, but has a hard time concealing the childlike persona she carries.

Backstory: Petra was gifted from a young age, blessed with the favor of Nytoria. Nytoria, as the protector goddess of free will, presented her with a small fraction of her divine power in the hopes that Petra would one day protect her friends, loved ones, and perhaps herself from disaster, knowing that this child’s life would not be a happy one.

From the second she could walk, Petra experienced trauma and hate. Her village worshipped Helm, god of protection, believing that he would shield them from suffering. Mistaking Nytoria’s act of patronage and blood red brand on Petra as mistrust and lack of respect from the deity, her parents and the town, stirred up by the High Priest, Morvarian, ordered her death. Petra, being only 5, was defended solely by her older sister, Neraia, who grabbed her and managed to barely escape with their lives into the wilderness.

Neraia, 17 at the time, being a combat specialist due to her time as a soldier taught her how to wield a sword and, as time went on, Petra became an extremely adept duelist. Neraia also was a combat medic, so she also taught Petra about the important parts of the human body and where to heal as well as where to strike. She and Petra came to rely on each other very heavily while continuing to avoid and dodge mercenaries and followers and acolytes sent by the High Priest, mad with this ideal that killing them would lead to favor from Helm.

During her 15th year, Petra and Neraia were separated in a surprise attack by an assassin’s guild. After days of searching, Petra found her sister being held as bait. With a knife to her throat, the main leader slashed Neraia’s throat. Feeling the divine magic well up inside her from seeing her sister’s blood, she channeled Mystra’s gift into puppeting all 3 assassin’s into killing each other through their own blood, her brand glowing a malevolent red. Able to barely save her sister from an agonizing death, Petra healed her and took her to the nearest town, making sure the infirmary nursed her back to health.

Feeling unbelievable remorse and terror at her own power, she ran before her sister came to consciousness. Running into the forest, she took her knife and tried to carve it her own brand only to have it perfectly healed. Trying several times as she cried and blood continued to spill from her arm only to have it healed, Nytoria appeared to her in her usual way, appearing to be a traveler of unknown origin.

“Child, why do you deny your gifts? I have given you strength.”

“I never wanted this. I almost got my sister killed. I killed those people. I put people in danger with this magic. I will pay any price to make this stop, even if it’s with my own blood.”

“My dearest Petra, there is a reason I entrusted you with this magic and why I became your patron. Your path was never meant to be easy. Helm knew of your fate and chose to let it be, so I stepped in. You are capable of great things. Blood is not a product of violence, it symbolizes life and passion. So instead of spilling your own blood, use it to make this world better than you found it.”

Instilled with an odd sense of peace, she returned to the infirmary to find her sister had left in search of her. After looking for days, neither Neraia or Petra could find each other. Using her instincts, Petra started to craft a persona as a mercenary, donning the name that hounded her as a child, the Heretic. Embarking on a quest to come to terms with and become comfortable with her abilities before being able to face her sister again.

After several years and continued harrying by the same High Priest, she continues on her journey, still harrowed by the horror her divine gifts can inflict, but slowly becoming accustomed to it, she continues to gather reputation among the continent while searching for her sister.