#also i found a new tool for light ripples on water

[isirumarin]

Ep.10 Soul Tethered

The herbal tea was fresh and potent. Rumarin's pale blue eyes reflected the warm light of the rich morning sun. He set the mug slowly down onto the exquisite glass table. His eyes admired the craft work of the rippled green surface, his thoughts somewhere else.

Isira had learned the previous night that she wasn't the daughter of Mannimarco, King of Worms, but was a clone. A new word for Rumarin and its concepts were very difficult for him to grasp. The same, and also not, simultaneously. Likely she was "made" with some nefarious intention in mind. One that was still hidden from them. Isira was upset by the news, but tried hard not to betray it. Rumarin knew. The way the corners of her mouth pulled and a faint sneer traced around her nose, he knew them well. She had, for the first time, shunned his affection that night, wanting to be alone. His words fell shallow on the infinite depths of her thoughts. Diluted and disolved as forgettable platitudes.

Neither of them slept restfully.

He looked across the room where she lay on a grand canopy bed, with pastel silks that flowed like whispy webs in the gentle coastal breeze. The bedroom was open to a small patio overlooking the beautiful white beaches of Summerset's western coast. The trip had been romantic and fun up until the night prior...

Rumarin sighed, he felt mainly fear for Isira. She was created likely to be a tool of a sort by the legendary necromancer....no...a lich. It was obvious to him that whatever the "use" was for Isira, it didn't include her -outside of her mortal shell, or worst still, her soul. He feared he would not be able to protect her at all....just burn up like errant dust in the flame of the aftermath.

Didn't matter. His lot was cast. He thought, pushing the snowballing terror from his mind. He would stay by her side forever...how ever long that ended up being.

Isira stirred from her restless sleep. Dreams again...a gaunt mer with cold eyes and long white hair, spilling over his shoulders beckoned to her...his smile was not of benevolence, but victory. She remembered every detail, not only from the regularity in which she experienced them, but also....she could not forget. The images were burned into her memory. She knew what was likely happening. The lich was building familiarity in her and she knew she would be uniquely susceptible to this type of..."preparation".

She opened her eyes. The stonework of the Alinor architecture greeted her first. She rolled over and saw Rumarin sitting on the patio. He was watching her. "Good morning love.." he said softly, with a faint smile. Isira smiled back silently. She hugged the pillow and her face crumpled into overwhelming sadness, and she sobbed. Tears erupted as her silver eyes hid away.

Rumarin was immediately next to her and put Isira on his chest and held her. Time passed, and she fell asleep in his arms. The rhythmic sloshing of the waves rolling onto the beach, and the cries of seabirds were all that could be heard.

He laid her gently onto the pillow and covered her up. She was finally resting peacefully. Rumarin sighed quietly as he looked out across the blue waters. He drew the curtains closed and left Isira to her rest.

His pale eyes looked down both ways of the long corridor, and he decided to try the left route. He found what he was looking for, or rather who. An elderly altmer crone was folding fruit pies deftly with her delicate hands. She gazed serenely ahead with her blind opalescent eyes. "Good morning, Master Rumarin." The woman tipped her thin nose and smiled. "Good morning, Ennaliriet." He replied respectfully. He watched her fingers fold the complex knot of each pie flawlessly every time. Her path to Alaxon surely involved baking.

He leaned in slightly. "I need to see her again."

The woman was silent for a few moments, as if reading his thoughts. He thought she was going to protest, but she didn't.

"Of course you do." She replied certainly, wiping flour from her hands on a damp cloth. She turned and Rumarin followed her down the cellar stairs. With whispered chant and wave of her hand, the illusion faded, and she beckoned him to continue down the sandy path where Dekini'ko would be waiting.

#3dnpc #interesting npcs #rumarin #rumarin 3dnpc #rumarin skyrim #fanfic #isirumarin #skyrim fanfiction #ldb #mannimarco and vanus #alinor

[marccrossan-hnd1bphotography]

Lost and Found Evaluation

Environmental evaluation. L&f

1.     What was the project theme and what did you think of it?

This project was lost and found. This was one of the briefs that I enjoyed the most. But also one of the most challenging due to the different types of photoshop knowledge needed

2.     What part of the project did you enjoy the most/found most interesting (making the photographs? Optimising images? Printing?)

I enjoyed photographing the images although it was challenging. Trying to combing them in posy was enjoyable.

3.     What new techniques have you experienced?

Using the pen tool and how to create a realistic reflection and add ripples in the fake water as well

4.     What technique would you like to develop further?

I think I don’t most things well but just lighting the pencils better.

5.     Which photographers did you research throughout this project?

James Popsys

6.     How have they influenced your photographs?

He make you always think outside the box to be able what would best together and just look like its meant

7.     Which technique did you enjoy the most?

How to give a seamless look in the image and make it look like they were really photographed together

8.     What do you feel is the most successful part of your project and why?

I think just making it look believable and that they belong there

9.     Did you encounter any problems in your project?

Yes. I struggled to master the pen tool going round the pencils but quickly managed to get the hang of it. Also putting the moon behind the pencils and being able to move it wherever id like.

10. How did you learn from them and how did they affect your final images?

Firstly I watch YouTube videos, then just kept trying but eventually asked Iain for help and understood it a lot easier.

11. What would you do differently given the chance to complete the project again?

Use different objects like screw/bolts, boxes etc as this might replicate buildings better.

12. Discuss any technical issues with your final images? (Focus, sharpness, exposure, highlights/shadow detail)

I'm happy with everything I feel I replicated the way the light would hit building quite well.

13. Going deeper; if you were asked to do a project using this technique what would you do? What new ideas do you have? This may be explained as a visual, a drawing, sketch, photograph…you decide how much you present in this section.

 I feel I could have a more complicated concept as I feel these images were quite straight forward to compose even though there was still a lot of work to be done in post

#lostandfound

[anakahaia]

Artober 2020

Day 20: Heart

A window into my heart

#artober #artober2020 #artober 2020 #inktober #inktober alternative #heart #window #lake #forest #sunset #clouds #drawing #digital art #its not as i pictured it in my head but its very close #i love lakes #used to go with family to a cabin near a lake #fun times #also i found a new tool for light ripples on water

[witch-hazels-musings]

I'm curious of how characters would use their visions in the bedroom 👀 Like, Kaeya would totally do temperature control stuff.

Could I request headcannons or narratives for how Diluc and Albedo would use their visions for your pleasure? (or for theirs 😳)

Note: I believe vision can only be used when they are in the possession of the person they were gifted to ( primary reason: Diluc giving his away - if anyone could have used it he would have given it to his father, and if he didn’t really need it to use his vision, he wouldn’t have taken it back ) 

Warning -> slightly funny? 18+ OMG PLEASE RESPECT THE 18+! NS_FW!!!! ( foreign penetration, voyeurism (Alb), burning clothes, no injury, held against wall (D), orgasm denial, foreplay, hydro bondage, hydro foreplay, voyeurism (C)) 

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

( okay … so this one is gonna be the strangest one I’ve ever done?, and I’m apologizing right now for it --- i’m literally so embarrassed, ima hide under my desk DONT JUDGE ME T.T )

Includes: Albedo (i’m sorry), Childe, Diluc 

Albedo

A vision in the hands of Albedo is a tool for many uses - he sees it less as proof of his power and more of a means to an end  - it’s an extension of what he has available and he’s learned to adapt it to any possible scenario 

Now he’s learned there are ways he can use it to satiate you while he continues to do his work - and, if he’s feeling especially devious, inquisitive to the point of combustion, he may just watch 

“Alb--bedo …” You adjusted, legs pressed together so intensely that you thought you might break your kneecaps. Shaking hands gripped onto the closest thing they could while you did your best to stay seated just where he placed you. 

“Try not to move too much, it will alter the drawing.” He sat with his leg resting over his thigh, the large sketchpad he had propped up there was bouncing vigorously as his hand ran across the paper. The pencil, when you could see it through your blurry vision, was dancing across the parchment in unbelievable speed as if to capture what was before it. 

The vibrations that shook your body seemed to fluctuate from intense stimulation to slow, steady pulsations. Every dip in frequency allowed you room to breathe, your hands moved to your face, teeth bit onto your fingers as your hips rocked against nothing as they sorrowfully tried to help you get off. 

“Be-do, please …” You whined, eyes glossing over as you looked at him. Did he laugh, did he smile at you, how heartless could he get. Under your rippling vision, you saw how it glowed brighter and richer in color, and yet, as if you didn’t comprehend its meaning, your hands flew down to grab onto the chair while the resonating stimulation grew between your legs. “Ah!” You slid further into the chair, your head resting on the back of the chair as your fingers gripped and pushed against the edge of the seat. Arching your back, lifting your legs up onto your toes you couldn’t help the moans and pants that fell from your mouth at an unreasonable pace. 

“Hold that pose.” Albedo’s voice was calm even if the speed at which he turned the page wasn’t and, as you gazed at him you couldn’t help but lose your mind at the way he observed you. The intensity of it was so powerful that even though you knew he wasn’t inside of you, it felt like he was. 

You crashed like a runaway cart into your orgasm, it shook you to your core, and even though you were screaming moments ago all that came out now was a high-pitched whimper. Deep breaths were all that you could take as you clenched around the object Albedo had placed inside of you, it was so hot that you started to pull at your shirt, and soon your hands found their way to the spasming place between your legs. 

Albedo’s voice suddenly sounded much closer to you, his lips pressing to your forehead while his hand rested on the one you had near the object. “You did excellently, but I’d like to see more of you if I could, will you assist me again?” 

In your dizzy haze, you glanced at his bright eyes and with a gaping, air-sucking mouth, you gave your reply. 

 Childe

There was no need to keep his skills at manipulating hydro out of everything that he did, why would he when he was so beyond capable at making it do exactly what he wanted. Whether that be from creating blades out of it, spears in its likeness, or even shackles to hold people down - he was learning just how versatile water could be 

How could he not give everything he’s ever wanted to try to his partner who had shown him on multiple occasions a level of trust he knew he didn’t deserve, and a willingness to let him do what he wanted -- you always gave him permission, and you were doing it even now 

Your back arched as his hands slid under your pants. The way he touched you so perfectly made your vision go dark before lighting up under the stars. As soon as he put pressure right where you needed it, fingers bending and flexing to let you know how much control he had over you, the sound of pleasure and excitement that slipped from your mouth gave him access to the tongue inside of it. 

He played with you, toyed with the tightness in your stomach. Every time you were about to break under his stimulation he pulled away just to watch how much you’d whine. 

“Childe, please …” You shifted under him as he slowly, painstakingly began to remove your clothes. Each layer, every article which fell to the floor next to the bed felt like an eternity in your sinful sentence. The way his hands ran down your legs as he slipped off your pants, the sensation of his gloved fingers trailing down the center of your chest as he watched the way you squirmed and grabbed at his arm - he was enjoying it all and he had barely done anything to you yet. 

“I’ll give you exactly what you need, remember,” He pressed his lips to your neck, your collarbone, and in the center of your chest before continuing, “If you want to stop, tell me immediately.” You nodded your head and he sealed your promise with a passionate kiss. 

In no time, he had you exactly in the state he wanted you, his eyes observing the beauty and perfection that lay before him and as your own gazed longingly, eagerly back at him, you noticed how his vision began to hum. It pulsed like a glowing heart and in your curiosity, you reached your hand for it only to find it was impossible. 

Tilting your head, you noticed there was a stream of water around your wrists. Funny, you couldn’t tell that your skin was wet at all. That’s when a new sensation began to work its way up to your legs and when you looked down to investigate, you noticed a swirling blue like rope beginning to creep its way further up your body. 

“What’s …” The smile that stretched his lips and seeped into his dangerous eyes made it so hard for you to breathe. Your heart pounded in your chest, your stomach rippled with excitement, and the build-up in your body began to increase so much you were sure he was going to make you orgasm just from his stare alone. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah, ready for wh-AH!” The flowing water reached your ache. The wetness of it made your body nearly seize as he worked its way into you. The moans and cries that left your burning throat were so loud you were sure someone was going to hear you. Desperately, you wanted to cover your mouth but your wrists were still locked above your head so instead, you tried to bite your lip but that only sealed in so much noise. 

“My, how adorable you look like this.” Childe hummed, his hand moving to stroke your chest as he leaned down to pepper kisses against your throat. “Let’s push a little further, what do you say?” 

The girth of the water increased and no amount of self-control was capable of holding back the scream released from your body. Your feet struggled against the mattress, futile attempts to assist you in raising your body off of the mattress came with frustrated huffs and whines in your throat. You called out his name and soon you heard the sound of rattling metal. 

“Damn, I made myself jealous.” Suddenly, all the water around your body ran down your skin and before you could understand what was happening, Childe positioned himself above you and worked at finishing what his hydro vision started. 

Diluc

He usually has so much more control - he had to learn in order to survive, but there were times, there were moments when all he knew was instinct and all he could do was feel 

With you, these moments came up more frequently than he would have ever anticipated - there is no switch to turn himself off when he gets lost in your body. You learned to never get him so worked up while his vision still rested at his hip (things were bound to burn) 

He backed you into a wall, his fever to have you was apparent by the intense way his hands ran over your body, tugged at your clothes, manipulated your hands with his. He was almost like another person, a delusion of himself. There was no way you could have known riling him up would lead to this and while it was incredible, the ferocity of him, the unreserved nature that he was capable of showing, it was also incredibly hot. 

“Diluc wait -” You tried to reach for his vision but his hands plastered yours to the wall. His lips claimed any part of your skin that they could and the pressure of his body against you, the feeling of his growing and dangerous erection crushing against your stomach made every rational thought in your brain fall to the floor he hardly let you touch. 

His strength always shocked you. For someone so thin it was often hard to remember that he was capable of it - even though you watched him fling his claymore around like it was nothing, even though on countless occasions he lifted you like you were a freshly sprouted plant; how deceiving his true abilities were to you and everyone else.

Your clothes began to cling to your body. The sweat dripping down your back, in between your legs, your neck all made you wildly informed his vision was active. You didn’t even need to see how it burned like a beating ember to know he was calling on its ability. He let go of your hands and began to work himself out of his jacket, undo his vest, and any other article of clothing he could all the while his mouth kept yours occupied. 

The heat from his tongue was near scalding, how was he able to let this fire seep through every single part of his being - was he not experiencing it too? When his chest was exposed, your hands ran over his rippled torso and the question you just asked yourself was answered as you felt how slick he was becoming. 

You pulled him closer, the resulting action making his body come into immediate contact with yours and the feeling of his cock digging into the soft and sensitive area between your legs made you burst in exclamation. Your head landed on the wall, hands slid around the hem of his pants and gripped so tightly onto them his hips pushed further into you. 

“It’s hot, it’s so hot.” You panted, gazing at him and hoping that your words made sense. Your body was hot, everything was hot, but while you wanted him to alleviate the heat, you hoped he’d remove one primary cause of it.  

Pinning your hands above your head, he quickly began to work on your pants. He wasted no time undoing the buckles and buttons that kept you clothed and as he helped you remove them there was a distinct smell filling the air. When you looked down, the fabric was starting to burn even with you still in it. 

“Diluc! Hold-ah!” Struggling against him, you began to shake your lower body and in his complete daze, he slowly came back to realization. In an instant, he let go of you and grabbed the nearest item to him to put out the flames. He was on his knees, his black shirt tightly wrapped around your chard pants afraid that if he didn’t keep it there the flames would get worse. 

“Y/N … I cannot apologize enou-” Your laughter cut him off, the expression he shot up to you was one of mass confusion as he searched for understanding. 

“If I had known you were going to burn my clothes, I would have teased you without them.” He shook his head and tried to apologize again, his eyes dropping to your legs, assessing them for any damage. “I’m fine, you didn’t burn me.” 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, his cheek pressing against your stomach as he held onto you tightly. Chuckling, you rested your hand on his hair and began to caress him, the soft movements reassuring him until he composed himself again and lifted back to his full height. Looking at his face, you could tell he was nervous, so you lifted onto your toes to give him a kiss of redemption. 

“Next time, let’s leave this,” you reached for his vision and easily removed it from his pants, “out of the action. What do you say, hot-stuff?” His eyes narrowed at your nickname but agreed to your suggestion anyway. 

--

( no one is tagged because I am too embarrassed to do that! ) 

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin impact 18+ #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe #diluc X reader #diluc #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc

[whumpbby]

I leaf you<3

Just a little bit based on this adorable piece by @flaffizz TT

Little Plant Jay and Dick who bought him on sale:D 

Dick wasn’t really a plant person, he wasn’t even shopping for one. He went to the hardware store to pick up plywood and the counter top he had ordered a week prior, and some smaller pieces necessary for the renovation of his new flat. Of course, every visit to Home Depot was a bit of an adventure that warranted at least an hour spent traversing narrow pathways of the DIY heaven, surveying tools and materials just in case a shiny towel hook or a toilet lid adorned with shells caught his attention. 

And that’s how Dick found it –he was reaching for a funky angular night lamp (because he didn't need one now, but no one charged for looking) that stood behind a salt-rock shaped one that, once moved, revealed something that didn't belong in the lighting section. 

A flower pot that has seen better days; just a shoddy black plastic affair with a crack running down one side and a bit of dirt spilling out onto the shelf. Some asshole probably changed their mind and left it wherever they were at the moment without care. 

Dick picked the pot up a bit carelessly, his innate need to look with his hands guiding his brain. There was no tag stuck into the pot to tell him what sort of a plant it was, and the dirt was bone dry when he poked it. But there was life still in it. A little green head, browning at the edges, rose slowly and a pair of big shiny eyes looked at him from the little dusty face. 

Now, Dick wasn’t a plant person, but he wasn’t an asshole like some people. 

“He, little guy,” he smiled at the plant. “What are you?”

It shied away from his finger when he wanted to poke it, unsuccessfully trying to bury itself in the dirt –the soil was too packed and dry, and its arms were thin and shaking with exertion as it struggled. 

Dick’s heart gave a pang. The little guy had to be dehydrated and starving, who knows how long he was stuck on that shelf out of sight? 

Not thinking much of it, he put the pot into his trolley and directed his steps towards the gardening section of the store. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll get you some water and food.”

However, as it was often the case when one crossed the threshold of a Home Depot in the middle of a project, one thing after another was pulling Dick off course. He needed acrylic paint for the bathroom and then he needed the right knobs for the cupboard, then painter’s tape. A new shaving mirror. Another silicone gun. A new right angle. Size 8 diamond drill bit. A list of odds and ends that steadily pulled him further and further away from the garden centre and by the time he remembered about the little fella in his cart, he was already 3rd in a queue to the till with 4 more people behind him and a stomach grumbling in demand of food. 

He was prepared to tell the cashier to put the pot away, sure it will somehow land in the proper environment at some point, but before he managed to utter more than a “Hello,” the woman looked at the pathetic looking plant and shook her head in pity. 

“Sure you want this? Doesn’t look like it will live long.”

And, well, after that he just had to prove her wrong. 

**

He called the plant Jason, because he was a lonely dork who talked to everything in his flat and it seemed easier to use a name –and Jason was the name of his favourite Power Ranger. He knew some people named their fish, so each to their own, eh? 

Internet search told him the little guy was a pothos plant, epipremnum aureum, known also as Devil’s Ivy. Luckily, it was apparently one of the easiest houseplants to care for, considered by some to be a perfect getaway to a green home. Thank God, Dick wasn’t sure he was up to something more demanding. 

In an act of defiance, after leaving Home Depot, he stopped on the way by a small local flower shop. The girl behind the counter supplied him with a bag of potting soil appropriate for Dick’s new acquisition and a quick rundown of what to do to keep it alive. She also helped him pick up a new pot. 

“You want something with holes on the bottom,” she said, showing him the underside of one. “See? This way water can drain and won’t go bad in the pot, rotting his roots. Pothos likes water, but it has to be fresh, so keep that in mind. Drop some gravel on the bottom for good drainage and some moss on top to cover the soil and it should be fine.”

Armed with knowledge, a bag of supplies and a wallet lighter by a twenty, Dick returned home and got to work on saving his new little friend. 

Repotting wasn’t easy, Jay wiggled and squirmed, and Dick had trouble dusting off the clumps of old dirt that clung to him; he was afraid to squeeze the plant too hard or cause it some sort of damage. In the end, he gave up and decided to proceed to the next step –soaking in water. 

He prepared the bath in a cereal bowl, as advised, with an upturned peanut butter lid to sit on. He mixed lukewarm tap water with the purchased supplement and placed the little scamp in it. 

As soon as his little legs touched the water, Jay’s struggling stopped. He allowed Dick to place him on the edge of the lid, water reaching his shoulders, and looked around the bowl with the air of mystified wonder that had Dick’s heart softening even more. 

“How is it, buddy, not too warm?” He asked gently, leaning over the improvised ‘bath’. “Never had a nice long soak before, eh?” 

Poor little guy. 

This time when Dick touched the plant with a tip of his finger the flinch was tiny, more unsure than wary. He dipped his finger into the water and used it to deliver a few drops onto the top of the green head, hoping it will wash off the dust and stop the browning of the tiny leaves. 

Jay shivered when the drops ran down and pushed the finger away, much to Dick’s amusement. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you to it. Have to prepare your new bed.” 

Mixing of the soil thankfully didn't require instructions. Dick dropped a handful of gravel he’d earlier picked up on the pathway around the parking lot (that he had properly rinsed, of course) into the bottom of the new pot and filled it up with soil from the bag that promised to have all the nutrients and minerals necessary for a healthy houseplant growth. He topped it all off with a clump of moss and put the pot into the nice ceramic cover –it was dark red and glossy, and simple. A very manly pot for a very manly man and his manly plant.  

After ten minutes of soaking Jay already looked much healthier. He was less pale and more supple, the lines on his skin smoothed out and the leaves on his head rose a bit from their lifeless faint. He was sitting on the lid just as Dick has left him, but now he was swinging his little arms around, watching the water rippling around them. 

Dick had a phone in his hand before he thought of it. 

However, when Jay noticed him, he stopped moving and only stared with these big curious eyes. 

“Hey, buddy, look at this.”

The pot landed on the counter next to him with a slight clunk. The plant measured it top to bottom, once more looking unsure. It was bigger than the previous broken affair, but Dick hoped that added space won’t be a problem.

“What do you think?” He asked, pointing at the pot. “Want to explore the accommodation or would you like to soak a bit more?”  

He trusted Jay to know when enough was enough and so, when the plant started to climb out of the bowl, he picked it up and gently placed it on top of the moss. Afterwards, there was a lot of adorable wiggling and pushing and rearranging the moss, all of that ending up on Dick’s phone. Jay dug himself a little hole in the soft foil and squeezed himself into it, leaving only the top of his head visible. 

Poor little guy had to be exhausted after all the excitement of the day, so Dick left him to rest. He only poured a bit of the leftover water into the pot cover, so the soil could pull it up gradually and keep Jay moist. 

Since the kitchen was in the middle of renovation, Dick picked up the pot and placed it on the windowsill in the living room; it was a South facing window that had light for most of the day, something that pothos apparently liked.

“Here we go,” he said, using a fingertip to rustle the little leaves on top of the little head and chuckling when a tiny hand swung out of the moss to push him away. “Welcome to your new home, Jay.”

#writing #plant!jay #dick&jay #lol my brother looked at the comic and was like #this is you #you do that with plants #XD #yeah i have a problem

[wolveria]

Unable to perceive the shape of you - Ch. 4

Pairing: Connor x f!Reader x Nines

Summary: After breaking the RK twins out of the MarineLife facility, you were determined to return them to the ocean before getting caught by your employer.

What you hadn’t counted on were the brothers deciding you belonged to them.

Prompt: Mermay! (Shape of Water/Splash AU)

Word Count: 1.5k

AO3

It was still too early in the morning for the sun to make an appearance, let alone for markets to open, so you found a 24-hour grocery store that still had (relatively) fresh fish out on display. You purchased the kind they liked the most, and grabbed some food for yourself from the to-go counter. You’d found a better haul than you’d expected.

Unable to stop thinking about the dripping blue blood and the pain on Connor’s face, you grabbed some gauze, bandages, and ointment from the shelves. Laden with medical supplies and raw fish, you were glad no one was there to judge you at the self-checkout counter.

Connor and Nines had both removed their armbands by the time you returned, and though they’d tried to rinse the bathtub, it was still tinged faint blue and smelled of copper.

The skin that had been under the armbands was inflamed and irritated, and seeing the look on your face, Connor took the paper-wrapped fish from you and touched your elbow with his other hand.

“Once we submerge in the water, it’ll start to heal on its own. It looks worse than it is,” he added with a faint smile.

You nodded but said nothing, your voice having fled at the simple touch. Connor was good at that, making you flustered even before you’d known he could speak and understand you.

Nines remained silent, simply stripped his fish down to the bones with his sharp teeth as he ignored you both. He was dressed now, thankfully they both were, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to wake up with both of them pressed against you, equally hard.

You told yourself they’d been asleep. They might not even understand what it meant. Sure, cetas had genitals and mated like any other creature, but you were a completely different species. Surely they didn’t see you with any kind of sexual or romantic interest. Earlier tonight had just been an awkward accident.

You were pulled from your thoughts as both twins stood up, balled up the seafood scented wax paper, and threw them onto the nearby table. You wrinkled your nose.

“We’re going to have to throw those out, it already smells like fish and blood in here.”

“Later,” Connor said, and with a cheeky grin grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet. “Right now, we swim.”

“Connor—“

But he was already pulling you out the door and you couldn’t deny him anything, not when his brown eyes were bright with excitement and the corners of his mouth were pulled into a grin.

You sensed more than heard Nines following, a large, intimidating presence you were growing familiar with. Connor forced you to keep your eyes forward, paying attention to where your feet were going as he tugged and pulled you to the pool area. By the time you got there, you were smiling at his sheer enthusiasm.

Connor finally released your hand to begin stripping off his clothing, and you turned away, not quick enough to avoid catching sight of his taut back muscles. You swallowed dryly as you moved away, rolling up your pant legs to sit at the edge and stick your feet in the water. You’d done it many times before back at the lab, and the sight of Connor’s naked chest and back were nothing new to you.

And yet, this time felt very different. You kept your eyes firmly on the dark water, listening intently to the sound of clothing being shed behind you. You heard the soft splashes as they slid beneath the water, but you couldn’t make them out under the water with the pool lights turned off. It was far past open pool hours, and you had to pray that no one stumbled out here at four in the morning

Just like he usually did, Connor surfaced right in front of your legs, and even in the dim light you could see his toothy smile.

“You know you’re coming in to swim with us, right?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, playfully nudging his side with your toe. “The water’s freezing.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

Connor said it with complete sincerity, no teasing or playfulness in his voice whatsoever.

You still stuttered like a teenager being asked to prom.

“I, uh… I’m not wearing my bathing suit.” It was in your suitcase only because you’d worn it the day you left Detroit, but you’d changed out of it since then.

“So?” He shrugged, but his casual attitude didn’t match the gentle hand on your ankle, the thumb tracing a slow circle into your skin. “Wear your clothes. Or… take them off. There’s no one else here.”

You were sure you’d imagined the catch in his voice. Connor was rarely shy or unsure about anything.

Giving him a skeptical look out of the corner of your eye, you rose to your feet and checked again that the pool area was clear of other motel residents. You doubted if anyone stumbled across the pool they would notice a half-naked woman beside the two cetas, but you still felt self-conscious as you stripped off your clothes.

Leaving on your underwear and bra, you shivered and sat back down at the edge of the pool. Nines was nowhere to be seen, but you knew he had to be under the surface, lurking in the dark water. That thought might have been nerve-wracking once upon a time, but now it was comforting to know he was there.

You opened your mouth with the intention of asking how long they needed to be in the water, since the plan was to leave and continue the journey after waking up.

Instead, you yelped as you were pulled into the water by two strong hands around your hips. You sputtered but never had the chance to inhale any water; Connor had grabbed you and pulled you to the surface immediately, grinning from ear to ear and apparently pleased with his handiwork.

You splashed him with water, snorting when he scrunched his nose and released you.

“I’ve taken care of the cameras,” a low voice drawled from over your shoulder, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t be heard.”

In direct contradiction to his suggestion, you yelped and covered your mouth with your hand, also hiding the smirk where Nines couldn’t see it. He still glared at you as if he knew full well it was there.

“What do you mean, you ‘took care’ of the cameras?” you asked, pulling your hand away.

Nines somehow managed to look down at you even though you were eye level.

“You do know we have echolocation, yes?”

“Yeah?”

“Well. If we focus the burst of subsonic frequency at an electronic device, we can effectively interrupt the signal and even cause it to overload.”

You blinked, brows furrowed as you frowned.

“What? No you can’t.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes half-lidded as he continued to stare at you unblinking.

“Why do you think no humans have caught cetas walking on two legs? Or why more of us aren’t in captivity to begin with? We know enough about your technology to avoid detection.”

You opened your mouth to ask why they’d been in captivity at all, but you quickly shut it. It would have been a cruel question. No matter how many tools the cetas had at their disposal, it was the fault of humans that they’d been locked away.

“I see,” you said, diplomatically. “That sounds useful.”

Nines snorted and rolled his eyes. “You don’t believe me.”

“N-no. I do.”

“Stop teasing her,” Connor said from directly behind you, so close you nearly jumped out of your skin when his tail brushed against your legs.

Nines gave a last dramatic eye roll before disappearing under the water with barely a ripple.

“It’s creepy how you guys can do that,” you muttered before turning back to Connor. “How are you feeling?”

Connor lifted up his right arm so you could see the skin in the dim light. You could still see a band of pale skin where the device had been, most likely permanent scarring, but you couldn’t see any damaged skin.

“That’s amazing,” you said, and then you winced. “I’m sorry I got all squeamish earlier. I’m not usually like that. But… seeing you in pain, and all that blood—“

“It’s okay.” Connor swam closer, his eyes gentle and his lips turned into a light smile. “You’re very… what’s the word? Empathic.”

You shook your head, but he insisted, “It’s true. It’s why we knew we could trust you.”

You dropped your gaze to the water, unable to meet Connor’s eye. Already your cheeks were warm from him being so close, and your heart thudded too fast in your chest.

His fingers brushed against your shoulder, smooth and warm. You wanted to lean into that touch so badly, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to either of you.

Maybe if he’d been human…

You slipped free of his touch, giving Connor an apologetic smile before swimming a safe distance away.

You were doing the right thing, weren’t you? It was better this way, to maintain boundaries and not let yourself get more attached than you already were.

Next Chapter

#mermaid au #mermay #mermaid nines #mermaid connor #detroit become human #rk900 #connor #detroit: become human #nines #rk1700 x reader #connor x reader #nines x reader #my fanfiction #my writing #unable to perceive the shape of you

[kat-hawke]

Descried

(Following [Found])

Sprawled across the surface of the desk as the echoes of the wall clock ticked away with every passing second. The bottle of whiskey emptied long ago, knocked to its side by the outstretched arm, the accompanying glass still ensnared within Kat's fingers as she lay face down upon books of dark knowledge. Exhaustion winning the battle, she fell asleep in the middle of her studies.

The pinch of shadow-laced pain startled Kat into waking, knocking the bottle to the floor in the process. Her left hand locked up with shadowy wisps as Seraanna's voice penetrated the blissful silence.

"He… is found."

"Where?" The Director responded without hesitation, the mental clutch of the void-tainted pearl within the mind strong enough to choke the light from the Cathedral.

"...beyond Lakeshire, within the ruined keep." Seraanna's tone was less - distinct - than it been in their days-earlier contact.

"Do not allow the wards to deceive you," the shadow-laced thoughts continued, "they exist only to dissuade and are weak before the determined." 

The elf paused, and Kat took the opportunity to remove the hair from her eyes and close the various books on her desk. A pocket mirror used to check her complexion, sneering at the void-tainted left eye.

"Another has found him and was slain by his hand." Seraa continues. "Your Grimm knows he has been seen, but I feel it is other than righteous... force that he suspects."

Within her fingers, the mirror snapped shut and tossed into an upper drawer.

"He has never taken an apprentice or pupils throughout the years. Minions and lackeys that worship him as a cult, sure, but..." Kat's thought trailed off, mulling over the new information.

"Elaborate," her tone sounded more of an instruction than an inquiry to do so.

"I offer my aid, but I am not yours to command," Seraa gently reminded with a faintly amused tone.

"The other presented himself as more - an equal. Seeking an ally? Advantage? He laughed as Uvexius took his life, the soul abdicating as if - expected. My own Sight was then noted, but I have evaded greater eyes." 

"Grimm may think he has been seen; but neither I nor the other could be mistaken for harbingers of the Alliance."

"Interesting..." Kat overlooks the gentle reminder and focuses on the details of interest.

"Doubtful Grimm would see any as an equal, nor would he wish to change deities- assuming he has one. This renovation has lasted years, and not even the Cult of the Damned are seen near him."

She stood from the desk and was pacing from wall to wall now. The thumb was circling the side of her forefinger in the air before her chest as her eyes shifted over the floorboards.

"Then your efforts are made simpler. No other minds of note, nor acolytes or worshippers. Only the dull thoughts of the risen dead, and Grimm within his lair littered with word and formulae and parts for his crafting." 

As their exchange lengthened, Kat's senses began to shift, picking up subtle details of Seraanna's environment as she spoke. Her pacing paused to run one hand over the back of the other arm as if she could feel the armchair where the elf was nested. This new development sparked concern and discomfort, shifting her focus to curtailing the blooming connection, nearly missing the rest of Seraa's offered insight.

"Yet if it is that he feels threat, either of his slain visitor or of my own Sight, then how might he act? Is he one to bide his time, or to act all the sooner and more fiercely?" The priestess' mind seemed to ask the question of herself as much as Kat. "A conundrum for the Director's discernment. Mmm, Kat?"

The direct use of her name came like a snap of fingers to the face, and attention shifted back to the telepathic conversation.

"He has always been...unpredictable in such regards. Ranging from leveling entire homes to going aground for months. I'm willing to wager on him remaining on his current path. All things considered."

"You have your quarry then. The aid which you asked, granted. And I? I am here, in distant retreat." 

The sense of the study flourished again briefly, obviously at the forefront of Seraanna's thoughts. 

"I will require rest before I make my return, Kat. Unless it is that passage awaits me in nearby port? The village below has offered adequate welcome, though I fear I am an uncommon visitor. But this? This room is comfort enough. I will rest here."

Kat's jaw clenched at the mention of the village, teeth grinding in anger as the elf admitted to wandering beyond the walls of the study. An unpredicted complication, one she assumed would evolve into a problem as the isolated hamlet did not know the Ren'dorei.

"It's a week at sea," she answered, "more if the weather fights. You will find no passage in the port."

The study's ambient sense receded in a calm quiet, replaced by the sensation of vast waters, still and dark, between them.

"Did you believe I would merely fade into some convenient shadow when your task was complete?" came the soft question. "Three full nights have I extended my Sight at your asking. Broken only by rest upon a couch in a room without doors, and a single meal purchased with my own coin from the village below." 

The waters of Seraana's mind remained still and dark. "Sanctuary was asked, not exile. And I am no other's tool to be carelessly discarded once my usefulness is past." 

"Do not begrudge mere rest, Kat."

"Oh, there very well is a door," Kat sneered in a raw form of sarcasm.

"Rest is not what vexes me, Seraanna, nor did I believe you do without. You wanted sanctuary, and it was granted. Venturing into the village was not part of the agreement. You are no exile; this is not Silvermoon. If additional stipulations were required, you needed only to ask. I am not at fault for what you did or did not negotiate."

"Neither, dear Kat, was such forbidden. Do not fault me," Seraa echoed, "for stipulations, you failed to place."

In the physical realm, Kat scoffed and rolled her eyes in frustration. To be challenged in such a way was uncommon as she became familiar with many folding beneath her ire, intimidated into submission.

With a deep breath, the frustration subsided, and a faint smile touched the Director's lips. Her eyes focused on a tiny hourglass at the corner of the desk, where dark matter swirled within the lower chamber.

"Smarter than you look," Kat conceded, "something I am not accustomed to these days."

"I find that I am often estimated poorly. The elf," an echo of distaste from Seraa in the term, "with her whispered words and placid demeanor. Certainly she is some wilting flower, in need of another's strong arm and sharp blade." Amusement rippled across the calm. 

"It is not without use." 

"Are we agreed, then?" Seraanna circled back.

"Agreed?" Kat repeated. "I never contested your desire to remain and rest, only disapproved of the journey to the village below." 

"Unless you mean the implication that men think women to be delicate beings in need of saving when we manage fine without them? In which case, yes, we are agreed."

"And of my own case, no few women," Seraa casually amended. "Though the pattern does tend as you describe it." 

"Then tell me where I might find a warm meal, and I shall avoid your further disapproval. And that somewhere you possess wine, and not only this wretched whiskey."

"Seeks wine but calls the whiskey wretched?" Kat mocked with humor. "Deplorable, to seek smashed and rotted grapes...but as you wish. The villagers have already been made aware of your presence, and if you care that much for Gilnean cuisine, then help yourself. There is also the manor in which you are currently within. The choice of food will be much the same as the tavern but better in quality."

"The door that opens to nothing, Kat?" Seraanna questioned. "I might open a rift from the study to the ground seen below, and knock at the manor door. But I am uncertain if any would answer, no matter give welcome to one such as I knocking unexpected."

Reaching out to pluck the hourglass as the elf spoke, Kat turned the instrument over in her fingers, watching as the dark energy within rushed through the bottleneck into the empty bottom half. Remaining silent and focused as Seraanna resumed the conversation without pause.

"And be assured. I did not speak of from where I came, nor did I enter the village from the direction of the manor. Although the matron at the inn," Seraa remarked with another faded ripple of amusement, "proclaimed me the most interesting thing she had seen in three moons."

Silence fell across the connection now, and Kat waited, a single finger tapping on the desktop as she stared at the hourglass. Nearly a minute passed before the shadows within the glass vessel dissipated, and the sensation of fright pulled on a distant thread within her soul.

The corner of painted lips lifted in a smirk as the Ren'dorei found what she requested.

"Try not to scare the child. She is not fortified as you and I. Her mind is...delicate."

The hourglass spun over again yet remained empty. As if she waited for it to fill on its own accord.

"I am no stranger... to delicate things," Seraa murmured across the dark waters of their connection.

Kat pursed her lips with a quick arch in her brow before severing the tether between them. The arrangement was now becoming a calculated gamble with unpredictable outcomes, a risk she found herself willing to take to foster trust.

( @longveil​​ )

#ic #rp #Sharpened Void #| Storming Scourge |

[victorsandvanquishers]

Mughal-e-Azam for Antimagic Demon and Asta for the Bollywood film edition....

Asta x Liebe Nation, I come bearing the good fruit. Thank you for requesting, Anon, please enjoy. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

~~

It was the irony of all ironies – Asta's friends knew he was in love before he did.

Gordon noticed first, because Gordon was the most observant of the group. Asta was unlike anyone he'd ever met, so the young man didn't possess the sweaty palms, furrowed eyebrows, and fleeting glances that would plague the usual sort. Asta was different. More than that, Asta's deepest thoughts were just underneath the surface, hidden beneath veils of booming laughter and rippling muscles, a subtle hint in a sea of smiles. That alone gave Gordon grounds to investigate.

The stiff spine was the most surprising, and at first, Gordon had assumed poor Asta was just constipated. He'd debated getting his friend some herbal medicine so that he could rest easy. Gordon didn't want him to end up like Captain Yami, perpetually in the restroom, perpetually whining about the woes of tummy trouble.

He changed his mind when he realized Asta only stiffened when their new friend was out of his grimoire. It was their new friend with the glistening black skin and powdery white face. Liebe also had the most magnificent horns, horns which he'd begrudgingly let everyone in the base touch and pat because Nero's were too small and because she didn't quite like the touchy-feely stuff.

Liebe, however, seemed to enjoy it much more than he let on, and so they indulged him accordingly.

Charmy threw him a feast on the night of his official arrival to the base because it was the first happy evening they'd seen in weeks. Their captain had been rescued, Henry had built Nacht a room of his own, and Asta had a new friend.

It was a grand affair. Charmy made her best dishes, Vanessa opened her most treasured wines, and Zora's party tricks brought life back into everyone's eyes, even if Captain Yami ended up sitting on a stinkbug.

Liebe sat quietly for most of the party, but that was to be expected. Gordon was a great listener, so he'd noted every detail of the stories Asta had proudly told him about his demon friend. Asta had regaled him of the stories of his and Liebe's binding ritual on their journey back from Spade. Asta had called it friendship-binding. Gordon liked friendship. He thought it the most important and exhilarating thing to exist in their world.

He didn't forget the twinkle in Asta's eyes when he'd gushed about shaking hands with his new friend, the demon in the grimoire. Gordon didn't think he'd ever seen Asta so happy before.

That same fondness seemed to translate into Liebe's eyes, even if he was mostly silent. He looked to be the brooding type, a little like Gauche, but not an isolationist like Nacht, and though somewhat acerbic like Noelle, not nearly acerbic enough to offend anyone. Their new friend seemed to be in that happy middle amongst the three, quiet but present, as if reflective of every moment passing before his eyes.

If anything, it seemed to Gordon that Liebe just preferred to sit quietly. That was fine with him, as Gordon could see the warmth and affection in his eyes became stronger with their revelry. Liebe could remain in that brooding middle, the one where he blushed furiously when they patted his horns, but still grumbled beneath his breath about clingy humans. Gordon could accept that.

Liebe laughed for the first time when Magna slipped on Luck's chocolate wrapper, went tumbling into Noelle, who screeched and blasted Magna with a wave of water that eventually planted Magna against the wall, soaking wet and dazed. Gordon almost missed the new sound, what with the raucous laughter and Magna slightly concussed, but Liebe's laugh was different. It was a loud, scratchy thing, perhaps even a little shrill, but so full of life and love that Gordon balked in his seat, his hat lying limp in his hands.

Nobody else seemed to notice, but Gordon did.

And so did Asta.

Asta had stiffened when Liebe began to laugh.

Asta only stiffened when Liebe's attention was turned towards something else, eyes focused elsewhere, his back to Asta, black wings and black skin glittering like diamonds in the night while Asta stood motionless, in awe.

Asta had stiffened when Liebe began to laugh.

And that's how Gordon realized that his young friend was in love.

*

Vanessa noticed because she'd spent ten years giving Yami the same look, and got nothing in return.

It took her a little bit longer than Gordon, but she caught on. A month after they'd brought Yami home, Vanessa was in charge of leading some squad members on a clean-up mission on the border of Heart. It was a simple job, and one that would see them all home by nightfall. Vanessa wrote down the plan because she was still learning how to lead on her feet, and until she could call out orders at the drop of her magnificent hat, she would continue to use the little notebook Finral had gotten her when she'd become the team's interim captain.

She was reading over her notes when she realized that Asta was staring. Not at her, of course, but at the demon flying about, helping to direct the other squad members to where the lumber, stone, and tools would need to go as they worked to rebuild the little town that had lost to a mana storm. Vanessa had glanced up by chance, Rouge purring on her shoulder, and yet her eyes landed on Asta, as if it were fate.

She wondered why someone so kind and selfless had to suffer this particular kind of pain. She'd been suppressing her own for a decade now, camouflaging it with her alcoholism, and sometimes her trips to the brothel where the men were all the same, and she could pretend for the night that she was loved and wanted by the one she desired the most.

She wondered why Asta had to suffer the same pain. She tilted her head up and gazed at the astonishing black creature fluttering its great wings against the pale blue sky. Liebe was unlike any monster she'd ever seen before, and Vanessa had seen quite a few in her lifetime.

She wanted to ask, wanted to know – why him? Why not Noelle? Why not Yuno?

She didn't have to ask though. A moment later, Liebe swooped down with a powerful gust of wind that blew her great hat off her head and into the daisies at her feet. She didn't bother with her hat or her rich hair that had ended up in front of her face. She simply kept her attention on the two people some yards away, a human and a demon, bound together for life.

Liebe gave Asta a handful of stargazer lilies.

And Vanessa understood.

*

Love was soft; love was slow. Yami knew that much, even if he'd never personally experienced it.

The shrimp was good at hiding it. He'd been loud and boisterous when he'd lost the feeling in his arms, but he'd never faltered from his goal, not once. Lives had been at stake, and failure simply hadn't been an option. The love of one's self was one thing, but loving another – Yami didn't know if Asta had ever truly experienced that before now.

The runt didn't shy away from much, but when Yami found him considering a handful of stargazer lilies in the light of a single lamp in their empty kitchen in the middle of the night, Yami knew it was serious. He'd only ever seen few meditate on an object this critically before, and he never thought Asta would be a part of that small cohort.

And yet, there was the resident shrimp, placidly plucking at the pink and white petals, thinking things when there shouldn't have been anything but hot air in that head of his.

Any other day, Yami would have teased the boy and threatened him to spill, only because Yami was a nosy bastard deep down, but not tonight. Tonight, he simply tip-toed away, leaving the runt to his thoughts.

Love was a process, after all.

*

Liebe was a person. He wasn't a project Asta could work on, or a goal Asta could work towards. Liebe was a person, even if he was a demon with horns and pointy teeth, so Asta couldn't charge forward without a plan.

Noelle figured it out when one night, Liebe was too tired to take his meal with the rest of them, and had to eat where he slept – in the bed above Asta's.

Henry had fashioned the bunk beds for them when Asta had proudly showed off the bracelet on his hand, that which linked him to the demon for life. Noelle had looked on with barely contained glee in her eyes because Liebe had been cute, almost like a little animal friend who only looked dangerous, but was actually very sweet.

She hadn't been wrong – Liebe was sweet. Liebe was kind. Liebe worked just as hard as Asta, even if he grumbled, grunted, and groused along the way. Liebe was quiet, but he wasn't stupid. He spoke when it was necessary, not when it was convenient, and he kept his thoughts to himself.

Noelle could never hide her feelings, much less her thoughts. She envied the demon. She envied his poise, his reservedness, and the aura of mystery that seemed to surround him at all times.

One could argue that she shouldn't have felt this way, since Nero was the same.

But Nero did not look to Asta with the kind of affection Noelle harbored for him. Nero loved Asta much like a mother loved her child, or perhaps how a bird loved its chick. Noelle loved Asta like how Vanessa loved Yami, but Noelle failed where Vanessa was scathingly efficient. Vanessa could hide anything behind her drunken smile and glassy eyes, whereas Noelle could barely hide her blush, much less her affections.

Liebe walked with his lips sealed and his heart locked away, and all Noelle witnessed was one creature pining after the other. Liebe was better at it, of course. Liebe was quiet; he was strong. He was strong in the way pillars were strong, sturdy and imposing. He barely spoke about his past, much less about his feelings, and yet his gaze seemed to perpetually linger on Asta, and when it wasn't, it'd harden with the kind of aloofness that Noelle both loved and loathed.

Asta was loud, but he was hesitant, an edge of stiffness haunting his every step because perhaps forever was a bit too long. She thought it was doubt at first, but then she'd started noticing the shifts in his smile, the way he'd stiffen when Liebe touched his arm to instruct him to calm down, when his eyes lingered on Liebe's back, his wings, the band around the demon's wrist that promised that they'd be together forever.

Noelle figured it out one rainy night after a long battle, too few brooms to bring them all home without getting wet in the storm, Finral passed out in Zora's arms after exhausting all of his magic, and Henry back at the base. Yami, Magna, and Secre had all walked with the rest in solidarity, because what were friends for, anyway? When they got home, Charmy whipped up a large pot of stew, rice, roast beef, and eggs in under two minutes. Finral snapped awake with the smell of roasting meat.

Liebe was too exhausted from the battle, so Asta had carried him back to the base on his back, and when they'd gotten home, tucked Liebe into the upper bunk that belonged to him.

Later, when Charmy went to make a plate to send up to their comrade via one of the many sheep bustling about, Asta gently shook his head and took the plate from her. Noelle watched him heap piles of rice, eggs, and beef onto separate plates, before pouring stew into porcelain bowls, and grabbing two jugs of water. He made his way up the stairs to his and Liebe's room without spilling or dropping a single thing.

Noelle didn't need to know what happened afterwards, because it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Noelle and the rest of the Black Bulls ate their dinner at the long table, while Asta dined with his beloved upstairs.

*

Love wasn't always loud and all-encompassing, Zora had learned. Sometimes, it was subtle, like the feelings the Wizard King had, had for his father, feelings he'd only come to learn about after snooping around the King's private rooms while he was busy being chased by the mushroom man. Sometimes, it was toxic, like the poison that was slowly killing the witch from the inside out. Oftentimes, it was unrequited, like the birdwoman's.

And sometimes, it was fated.

Zora knew Asta had made the contract out of duty to his kingdom, to his squad. Any other man would have seen a demon-binding ritual as a sacrifice of one's best years, and of their autonomy.

But not Asta.

Duty-bound he may have been, but even duty could create bonds. Asta had created a bond of friendship, and friends they'd been, until that friendship became something more.

Zora saw it much like a book, one that moved slowly but surely, saw each moment like it was a chapter, and every chapter led up to the inevitable conclusion – the one where the human and demon fell in love.

Zora had seen and learned about enough bad endings in his life to know that love was the greatest prank of them all. His love for his father hadn't saved him from being betrayed and murdered by his own squadmates. Love hadn't saved Noelle's mother from dying from Megicula's curse. Love hadn't saved the first Wizard King from turning to dust in front of the sobbing birdwoman.

At first, he'd assumed that love wouldn't do anything for the human and the demon who seemed to fit together like two sides of the same coin. He even suspected that they'd eventually fight again for dominance, because who would want to be forced into a union with another forever?

But this wasn't one of those endings – not when Zora started reading the footnotes, not when he started connecting the dots.

Asta and Liebe weren't like the Wizard King, a fool in gold and velvet, a coward who couldn't tell a peasant that he was in love with him, a coward who couldn't protect his beloved or look after his beloved's orphaned child. Asta and Liebe weren't cowards. If anything, Zora thought they were heroes.

It happened a year after they'd brought Yami Sukehiro home. They'd just finished rescuing a noblewoman from an actual, fire-breathing dragon who also turned out to be her shape-shifting lover, so then the Black Bulls had to rescue the noblewoman and her lady dragon lover from the real enemy, which turned out to be high taxes and anti-dragon sentiment, which then led the Black Bulls to smuggle the pair out of Clover before Damnatio and his lackeys found out.

It was all in a day's work, and they'd just gathered around the bonfire to eat Charmy's roasted pigeons when Zora saw that Asta was gripping Liebe's hand in his own, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like their hands were born to be linked together, forever.

Zora would have thought he was thinking too deeply into matters if he hadn't caught them kissing some hours later. Arm in arm underneath the moonlight, Asta's arms were wrapped protectively around the lanky demon whose claws were tangled in Asta's ash grey hair. It wasn't the kind of kiss you witnessed on the street between shy teenagers learning to love, or grizzled elders who were beyond public displays of affection.

It was the middle of the night, and Zora had simply walked outside to take a stroll in the cool air before turning in for the night. He hadn't expected to find a runt and a demon passionately kissing beneath the moonlight like they'd just survived a war.

Zora smirked. Perhaps the past year was a war in it of itself, a series of battles that culminated with a woman and her dragon, and an escape into Heart where Undine and the Queen accepted creatures of all kinds.

Perhaps the war was finally over, and Asta and Liebe were finally happy.

*

“You did what?” Charmy hissed.

“I maaaaaaaaaade theeeeem oooooooone biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed,” Henry said pleasantly.

“But they're still falling in love! We can't push love!! It has to go slowly, naturally!!!”

“Buuuuuut IIIIIIII saaaaaaaaaaw theeeeeem kiiiiiiiiissiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing laaaaaaast niiiiiiiiiiiight!”

“Kissing doesn't automatically mean relations, Henry you bastard,” Yami added, as scandalized as Charmy.

“Kiiiiiiissiiiiiiiiiiing iiiiiiiiis theeeeee fiiiiiiiiiiirst steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep,” Henry retorted with a bright smile.

“At least neither of them can get pregnant,” Vanessa sighed with relief.

“...... Do we know that for sure?” Gauche asked finally.

The Black Bulls sans Asta and Liebe turned to Gauche with narrowed eyes, and said in unison, “huh?”

“Do we know for sure that demons can't get pregnant?” Gauche snapped, averting his eyes and trying to stifle his growing blush.

“... oh my god,” Charmy wheezed.

“HENRY!” They all screeched.

*

“I love you,” Asta whispered softly into Liebe's skin, leaving kisses down his pale neck, his hands locked with Liebe's.

“I love you too,” and Liebe meant it.

*

#Black Clover #asta #liebe black clover #asta x liebe #avafanfics

[mysticmachmir]

Judaism, Circles, and Circle-Casting

What's the Point of a Circle?

Magical Circle Definition: A temporary space with clearly defined energetic boundaries that provides a known space for ritual, magic, or similar controlled change.

"Casting a circle allows us to create an energetic space that supports our work in the physical space we have available. Since we do our ritual in a variety of spaces, many of which spend most of their time being something else (a living room, a public park, a rented room in a friendly business or community building), we need a way to make the space stop being those things, and start being a space where ritual, magic, and transformation can happen more easily."

This is a definition from a religious witch, a priestess of a coven. Obviously, this is not Judaism or a Jewish witch. However, if we want to incorporate some type of this into our practice, we need to understand what is its purpose. Asking why we have a ritual is just as important as how to craft one genuinely. For more information on crafting Jewish ritual and researching into Jewish traditional rituals to serve your purposes, please inquire this series on Tumblr.

Magical and Mystical Circles in Judaism

The Talmud: Honi HaMe'egal

One of the most concrete examples is using a circle to invoke and demand something of G!d. Here is a summary of what he did, but the sources via Sefaria are Taanit 23a:4-Taanit 23a:5-10. 

"His surname is derived from an incident in which, according to the Babylonian Talmud, his prayer for rain was miraculously answered. On one occasion, when G!d did not send rain well into the winter (in Israel, it rains mainly in the winter), Honi drew a circle in the dust, stood inside it, and informed G!d that he would not move until it rained. When it began to drizzle, Honi told G!d that he was not satisfied and expected more rain; it then began to pour. He explained that he wanted a calm rain, at which point the rain calmed to a normal rain."

The Bible and Folkloric Uses of Circles

However, there are many times we see circles used in Judaism. In the TaNaKh, magic circles first appear in Jewish tradition in the Bible, when Joshua encircles Jericho seven times in order to collapse its walls. We also have circles during Simchat Torah, weddings, Hoshana Rabbah, and funerals. Circles are used quite a bit in Jewish ritual, whether we realize it or not.

The use of protective circles, so familiar in medieval sorcery, also starts to appear in Jewish practice. Such circles were also used to protect the birthing bed of pregnant women (Sefer ha-Chayyim 2.8). Smaller circles drawn around a wound or area of illness on a Body presumably exorcised the malaise-causing spirit. 

The book Zera Kodesh (“Holy Seed”),  written in the 16th century, describes making concentric circles on the ground (usually three or seven) with an iron blade, often with an inscription or the names of Angels added. The Baal Shem Tov once defeated a priest-witch by making a protective circle with his staff (Megillat Setarim). 

In YIVO's Folklore of Ashkenaz class, by Professor Itzik Gottesman, he discusses the different ways circles were used by Ashkenazi Jews. He discusses that "Circling [was used to] ward the demons off the body. Circling, and circles in general, have found their way into Jewish folklore in a number of ways. Circles are considered perfect shapes and have a magical power to keep away evil. … Round objects also have symbolic value. At the first meal from returning from a burial, the family is given bagels to eat. One interpretation of this is so that we remember the round cycle of life and death, and it reinforces belief in reincarnation, which has been very much part of Jewish belief in the Diaspora. The [Rabbinic] responsa also mentions other circle customs: to circle the graves with thread, which were later used as wicks and candles to be lit for the ill person in the synagogue; in order to stop the spread of swelling on the eyes, it was circled with a ring; and in order to prevent further growth of a hunchback, it was circled with the hand of a dead man."

Noam Sienna, a Jewish scholar, speaks of other minhagim: "Drawing circles is also a common practice in the Mediterranean/Sephardic Jewish world to protect birthing mothers and newborns — it’s often drawn with a special sword or knife, and participants would also themselves walk in a circle around the cradle or around the room while reciting a protective formula like Psalm 91."

In Midrash, it is written: "For the circle has no beginning and end. And regarding this pleasure the scholars of truth hinted in their midrash, "the Holy One Blessed be He will make a circle for the righteous in the World to Come."

Kabbalah

A circle represents infinity because it has no beginning or end. In Kabbalah, the samech (a letter that is an enclosed loop) represents the infinite power of the Ein Sof, G!d’s infinite light. 

This video from Chabad is about an hour-long shiur on the concept of the sacred geometry of the circle, but essentially the Rabbi discusses how the circle is the most common and natural shape in Nature that G!d has created. Pebbles, the globe, ripples of water, the cycle of time itself is the most perfect shape and represents the week, 7 days. Seven and the circle are connected, as 7 is a very important number in Judaism connected to time. I do recommend watching if you're interested in numerology, sacred geometry, and math connected to divinity.

Modern Circle-Casting Rituals

Typically, when people think of circle casting, they are called to Wicca's ritual of circle casting, calling on the archangels (which sounds extremely similar to the Jewish krias Shema  - and Wicca was invented in the 50s, so you know who took from who there), calling on the watchtowers (Book of Enoch), and etcetera. This is not a process I am necessarily interested in. Here is one take of mixing Wiccan circle-casting with Jewish and Celtic theology/elements (this person is Jewish). Note: If you are a monotheistic Jew, or otherwise don't want to "mix" your practices, I do not suggest using this example of ritual. Also, the Zohar-pentagram connection is… questionable.

There is also the circle-casting suggested from Tehomot: Jewish Witchcraft*, which I'll outline here. I prefer this one because while yes, it is connecting back to the Wiccan tradition, it is not melding much of the religious elements, and only a few ritual pieces. Instead, it incorporates a lot more Jewish ritual and connection to Hashem. If it were me, I would remove the athame aspect of it and it would align more for my needs.

Visualization of the circle as the boundary of Gan Eden:

Athame/tool - shooting out fire like the spinning blade protecting Gan Eden

Gan Eden - orientations to the east, four rivers in the garden

Instead of calling on the watchtowers, call on the names of the rivers as found in Torah

He says that the "casting of the circle brings you from Malkhut - etheric double of the physical world. You are going up the Tree of Life and the Four Worlds in circle work/spirit work - from physical to spiritual (Assiyah to Yetzirah, Malkhut to Yesod)". 

The purpose of using a circle is asking for help - from G!d, angels, guardians, to ask help to change Assiyah/Malkhut/physical realm.

How To Cast (According to Tehomot)

1. Be properly prepared. ritual for preparedness - oil/shower/ centering. Once in the circle, anointment w/ oil and/or ring a bell/musical note

2. Draw the circle - saltwater, incense, or candle

3. Corner call - the four rivers and four elements. 

4. Summoning entities to hold the corner of the circles - angels, spirits, whomever 

5. The evocation of G!d, recite psalms and say for what purpose

6. Calling on ancestors to be present

7. Magical work/ritual

8. Worship element - a prayer to G!d, offerings (kiddush)

9. Closing - release ancestors, release the corners, draw the circle backward and ground the energy

Finally, in the book Magic of the Ordinary, there is another "circle-casting" ritual that he posits is from compiling symbolism from Jewish texts in this new ritual.

Tools: Bird feather and a fallen branch found naturally. This ritual is to be performed outside as it is written in this book. It is asked that you meditation with this stick and infuse your breath into it before using it to draw the circle.

If the ritual for which you are making the circle is to heal something, undo something, process something, make space for newness in some way or another, draw the circle counter-clockwise. Walk around the circle as you are drawing it and chant (I am only writing the English, get the book for the Hebrew): "Here I am Here I am Here I am, G!d Breath, Please support me" 

(Take a Breath) "I and the Unnameable, The Infinite One So again-- I and ho, I and ho"

(Take a breath, and then louder): "I and ho I and ho Support me, Please"

Repeat as much as you need until the circle is complete. You need to draw it seven times. Then, step inside the circle and chant into the four directions: "Toward your support do I direct my hope, O G!d I direct my hope, O G!d toward your support O G!d toward your support do I direct my hope"

Take your feather and sweep it across the inside of the circle and chant: "For the sake of the unification of the Holy Blessed One be He and the Shekhinah Through this rite, done in awe and in love to join The name Yah with Wah in a complete union"

Then wave the feather to the sky in circular movements while chanting "Yah" toward the sky and downward again sweeping it across the earth chanting "Wah". Do this three times and leave your tools in the center of the circle before stepping out. The circle is finished, and you can begin any rituals  - calling forth spirits, performing ceremonies, or leading gatherings. 

(Yah and Wah are two names of G!d, riffing off the Holy Name in an acceptable way as it is not the full name. If you are uncomfortable with this, you can replace it with a name of G!d comfortable for you). 

*The person who made this podcast is an apostate and is now a Messianic Baptist. He has a post where he says that Jesus is Torah and to deny Jesus means you are denying G!d. I do not support Messianic Judaism, so I have decided not to link his work. You can still find it online, easily. This podcast is from a time where he identified as a Jewish witch and was becoming a Rabbi.

If you like my work and writings, feel free to tip me here: https://ko-fi.com/ezrasaville!

Sources:

The Jewish Myth, Magic, and Mysticism Encyclopedia by R. Geoffrey Dennis Magic of the Ordinary by R. Gershon Winkler Chabad Gleewood Sefaria Noam Sienna YIVO’s Folklore of Ashkenaz Tehomot: Jewish Witchcraft (Podcast) Liorah HaMasovevet

#jewish witchcraft #judaism #jewish mysticism #jewitch #jewitchery #jewish witch #mine #my posts #jumblr #jewish #jewish tag #mysticism #talmud #magic #jewish magic #jewish folk magic #evil eye #witchblr #witchcraft #witch #circles #circle casting #kabbalah #sacred geometry #jewish folklore #folklore #protection

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

What is a photon? Symmetry Magazine By Amanda Solliday and Kathryn Jepsen The fundamental particle of light is both ordinary and full of surprises. What physicists refer to as photons, other people might just call light. As quanta of light, photons are the smallest possible packets of electromagnetic energy. If you are reading this article on a screen or a page, streams of photons are carrying the images of the words to your eyes. In science, photons are used for more than just illumination. “They’re ubiquitous,” says Richard Ruiz, a research associate at the Institute of Nuclear Physics in Krakow, Poland, and a theorist looking for new physics at the Large Hadron Collider. “Photons are everywhere in particle physics, so you almost forget about them.” The photon has fueled centuries of discovery, and it remains an important tool today. From wave, to particle, to boson People have investigated the nature of light since ancient times, with early insights coming from philosophers and scholars in Egypt, Mesopotamia, India and Greece. Between the late 17th and early 20th centuries, scientists went back and forth on the answer to one question in particular: Does light behave as a particle or as a wave? In 1690, Christiaan Huygens published Traité de la Lumière, his treatise on light. In it, he described light as being made up of waves that moved through the ether, which was thought to permeate space. Isaac Newton declared in his 1704 book Opticks that he disagreed. When light reflects off of a surface, it acts like a bouncing ball; the angle at which it approaches the surface is equal to the angle at which it bounces off. Newton argued that this phenomenon, among other things, could be explained if light were made up of particles, which he called “corpuscules.” A glass prism refracts a beam of white light into a rainbow of colors. Newton noticed that when the light was then refracted again, through a second prism, it did not divide any further; the rainbow colors stayed the same. Newton said this could be explained by assuming that white light was made up of many different corpuscules of different sizes. Red light was made up of the biggest corpuscules; violet was made up of the smallest. Newton said their different sizes caused the corpuscules to be pulled through the glass at different, accelerated speeds. This spread them out, producing the rainbow of colors that could not be broken down further by a second prism. Newton’s corpuscular model had a significant drawback, though. When light travels through a small hole, it spreads out just like ripples in water. Newton’s corpuscular model couldn’t explain this behavior, and Huygens’ wave model could. Still, scientists were generally inclined to dismiss Huygens and listen to Newton—he did write Principia, one of the most important books in the history of science, after all. But Huygens’ model received some support in 1801, when Thomas Young conducted the double slit experiment. In the experiment, Young sent a beam of light through two small holes, side-by-side, and found that the light passing through them formed a particular pattern. At regular intervals the intersecting ripples emanating from the two holes interfered either constructively—combining to make brighter light—or destructively—canceling one another out. Just like waves. About five decades later, another experiment put Huygens’ model definitively in the lead. In 1850, Léon Foucalt compared the speed of light through air with the speed of light through water and found that, contrary to Newton’s assertions, light did not move faster in the denser medium. Instead, just like a wave would, it slowed down. Eleven years later, James Clerk Maxwell published On Physical Lines of Force, in which he predicted the existence of electromagnetic waves. Maxwell noted their similarity to lightwaves, leading him to conclude that the two were one and the same It seemed that Huygens’ wave model had won the day. But in 1900, Max Planck came up with an idea that would spark a brand new concept of light. Planck explained some puzzling behaviors of radiation by describing the energy of electromagnetic waves as divided into individual packets. In 1905, Albert Einstein built on Planck’s concept of energy packets and finally settled the corpuscule-versus-wave debate—by declaring it a tie. As Einstein explained, light behaves as both a particle and a wave, with the energy of each particle of light corresponding to the frequency of the wave. His evidence came from studies of the photoelectric effect—the way in which light knocked electrons loose from metal. If light traveled only in a continuous wave, then shining a light on metal for long enough would always dislodge an electron, because the energy the light transferred to the electron would accumulate over time. But the photoelectric effect didn’t work that way. In 1902 Philipp Lenard had observed that only light above a certain energy—or lightwaves above a certain frequency—could pry an electron loose from the metal. And it seemed to do so on contact, immediately. In this case, the light was acting more like a particle, an individual packet of energy. Still convinced of the wave model of light, Robert Millikan set out to disprove Einstein’s hypothesis. Millikan took careful measurements of the relationship between the light and electrons involved in the photoelectric effect. To his surprise, he confirmed each of Einstein’s predictions. Einstein’s study of the photoelectric effect earned him his sole Nobel Prize in 1921. In 1923, Arthur Compton provided additional support for Einstein’s model of light. Compton aimed high-energy light at materials, and he successfully predicted the angles at which electrons released by the collisions would scatter. He did it by presuming the light would act like tiny billiard balls. Chemist Gilbert Lewis came up with a name for these billiard balls. In a 1926 letter to the journal Nature, he called them “photons.” The way that scientists think about photons has continued to evolve in more recent years. For one, the photon is now known as a “gauge boson.” Gauge bosons are force-carrying particles that enable matter particles to interact via the fundamental forces. Atoms, for example, stick together because the positively charged protons in their nuclei exchange photons with the negatively charged electrons that orbit them—an interaction via the electromagnetic force. Secondly, the photon is now thought of as a particle, a wave, and an excitation—kind of like a wave—in a quantum field. A quantum field, such as the electromagnetic field, is a kind of energy and potential spread throughout space. Physicists think of every particle as an excitation of a quantum field. “I like to think of a quantum field as a calm pond surface where you don’t see anything,” Ruiz says. “Then you put a pebble on the surface, and the water pops up a bit. That’s a particle.” Photons as a tool Radio waves and microwaves; infrared and ultraviolet light; X-rays and gamma rays: All of these are light, and all of them are made up of photons. Photons are at work all around you. They travel through connected fibers to deliver internet, cable and cell phone signals. They are used in plastics upcycling, to break down objects into small building blocks that can be used in new materials. They are used in hospitals, in beams that target and destroy cancerous tissues. And they are key to all kinds of scientific research. Photons are essential in cosmology: the study of the past, present and future of the universe. Scientists study stars by examining the electromagnetic radiation they emit, such as radio waves and visible light. Astronomers develop maps of our galaxy and its neighbors by imaging the microwave sky. They detect space dust that blocks their view of distant stars by detecting its infrared light. Scientists collect strong signals, in the form of ultraviolet radiation, X-rays, and gamma rays emitted by energetic objects from our galaxy and beyond. And they detect weak signals, such as the faint pattern of light known as the cosmic microwave background, which serves as a record of the state of the universe seconds after the Big Bang. Photons also remain important in physics. In 2012, scientists at the Large Hadron Collider discovered the Higgs boson by studying its decay into pairs of photons. Physicist Donna Strickland won a share of the Nobel Prize in Physics in 2018 for her work developing ultrashort, high-intensity laser pulses, formed from highly focused high-energy light. Machines called light sources create intense beams of X-rays, ultraviolet light and infrared light to help scientists break down the steps of the fastest chemical processes and examine materials in molecular detail. “Across the electromagnetic spectrum, photons can provide us with so much information about the world,” says Jennifer Dionne, associate professor of materials science and engineering at Stanford University. Dionne conducts research in the field of nanophotonics, a subfield of physics in which scientists control light and study its interactions with molecules and nano-sized structures. Among other projects, her lab uses photons to up the effectiveness of catalysts, substances used to kick off high-efficiency chemical reactions. “Light—photons—are a reagent in chemistry that people don’t always think about,” Dionne says. “People often think about adding new chemicals to enable a certain reaction or controlling the temperature or pH of a solution. Light can bring a whole new dimension and an entirely new tool kit.” Some physicists are even looking for new types of photons. Theoretical “dark photons” would serve as a new kind of gauge bosons, mediating the interactions between particles of dark matter. “Photons are always full of surprises,” Dionne says.

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news

[smokin-gun]

(With Endwalker looming ahead, I’ve been trying to write out some story for Nyx while I battle some pretty awful depression. Don’t expect greatness, but here’s some reading. I apologize for any typos since this was written on my phone.)

“Front Gate Breach… Did you fucking HEAR ME? Aleksander… answer your fucking pearl!”

“Aleksander…ALEKSANDER!”

“I ain’t feckin’ Aleksander… Bu’ ye ‘ave more problems than yer front gate bein’ breached…”

—————————————

**Fourteen suns earlier**

A large, three-toed foot caused dust to rise each time it plodded along a cracked and thirsty ground. Patterns rippled across its surface as if it tried its best to replicate the surface of the sun, the water scattering and snuffing out into the thick air before it could fully hide below.

The warking of a Chocobo, and a consequential cough as the dust choked it’s lungs, caused its rider to pull back the reins harshly before he joined it on the dried sands. A strong hand plucked the leather bits off the saddle and close to his waist as his boots added to the crunching around them.

A thick lilt was almost inaudible as a gust of wind enveloped them, “Jus’ think. Las’ time ye were here, ye wanted i’ t’be hotter”. The blonde Miqo’te elbowed the massive red bird next to him and it squawked in protest, head arching as it snapped close to his arm. “Believe me, dunnae plan t’be ‘ere longer’n we ‘ave t’be”.

The Seeker’s body was mostly covered by a scarf that clung around his neck, pulled up around his face so that the only things visible were the points of his ears and a determined amber visage. Bare shoulders rippled with ink work and tanned skin looked the slightest bit darker than usual. Thick work boots, laced tightly, treaded upon the dried lake beneath them without a hitch. A pair of hip-hugging leather pants were held aloft by a belt lined with more ammunition and tools than were likely necessary, but they were arranged enough that they weren’t burdensome.

The most noticeable detail about the man was the weapon that held closely to his back. It had a very obvious plethora of uses, but the form it held was that of a scythe, high above his head and glistening in the sun. Its wicked curved held an almost antique charm to it, but parts of it paid homage to the gunblades and firearms known by only Garlemald itself.

The thought of a homecoming for Grace made Nyx smile, the crooked grin creeping into the dimples close to his fangs. He often wondered whose weapon he’d recovered all those seasons ago and the thought of someone wanting revenge for improving its design made his tail twitch in excitement.

He’d already been traveling for some time, searching for the most remote entry to the empire that brought dread the world over. It wasn’t his first rodeo, but he wasn’t expecting the extreme change in climate. The last time he’d been in the hellscape, it was covered in a ridiculous layer of ice and snow, frigid to the point that he thought he’d die in his sleep if he had to take shelter somewhere. Thankfully, the destrier of a bird that he often figured would abandon him at his worst came through in a surprising series of events.

The current mission was something new. Knowledge that his father was, indeed, alive was jarring enough on its own. Unfortunately, the old man was found to be working under the Garleans either against his will or perfectly free. He’d said something that kept Nyx on his toes and his head swimming. A history in Garlemald… Had he really been holed up there this whole time or was it some sort of misunderstanding?

The Destrier jerked to a halt suddenly and Nyx’s eyes snapped forward and out of his own mind. A massive shadow crept towards them over the invisible horizon. Where the heat rose and swam with its false hope of clear oceans, a massive structure flew through the air like a giant crypt… Blood red hues clung to a black material that looked too organic to be leaving the land, like a great vulture, sickly and lurching.

Both sets of eyes followed it for a moment before they realized the thing was headed their direction. Nyx felt his heartbeat in his ears as he flashed glances around them. No cover. Not even the smallest hint of foliage. His bird companion seemed to understand the predicament, and like clockwork, began to run in the opposite direction from the Seeker. A few expletives escaped his lips before he sprinted after it.

As the structure loomed directly overhead, both of them fell to the ground, Nyx’s hands covering his head and the destrier’s beak pressed into the dirt as if two ilms of sand hid his entire body. It was in that moment that they both realized the massive Flying Fortress had continued on as if it hadn’t seen them at all. It was on a mission, perhaps seeing them or not.

The Miqo’te rose to his feet, dusting himself off as he looked over to his companion. The bird shook its head and fluffed up twice its size before it shook violently, dust shooting in all directions. If he hadn’t just experienced the massive craft, Nyx might have chuckled at the animal. Instead, he reached out and took the reins of the oddly compliant companion, tugging him forward and onward towards their original destination.

-——————

Suns passed by them like the slow, steady creep of death was behind them every step of the way. No signs of civilization showed itself and a few times Nyx questioned his ability to track his way. Even the usual stubbornness of his Chocobo had ceased and it simply went along with whatever the Seeker had him do, hoping that he’d find mercy on them both and head back towards Ishgard.

The horizon started to disappear for what was likely seven suns into their journey. Oranges and reds were swallowed up by deep purples and the smallest hint of real hid at the base of what looked like distant mountain ranges. The first signs of terrain change.

As before, the pair simply stopped where there were after Nyx made a few marks in the dried earth with a boot so they wouldn’t be disoriented come morning. A few rods and a tarp made for an easy shelter, but an odd wind had started to blow in once the sun had disappeared behind the range in the distance. The last gasps of orange cast an eerie glow on everything that could be seen, which wasn’t much.

Nyx had just laid out beneath the lean-to when he shot straight up. Chittering? Or howling… The wind that pushed dust along with it muffled a noise several malms away, but he knew he wasn’t hearing things as the great bird near to him raised its head and turned to face the same direction he’d looked.

/Skkkkkkeeeeee…. Aaaa…./

“Seven Hells… Damask… on yer feet… looks like we’re gonnae ‘ave company…”, the Chocobo clacked its beak as it stood, a foot pawing the ground as if readying itself. Nyx slid forward and out of his temporary bedding, a hand sliding out to grasp at the great scythe that hid beneath a blanket. As his fingers gripped the length of steel that made up the vast majority of the weapon, the tattoos along his arms glowed with a bright blue, the ornate details rippling down his flesh until each one had joined the first.

The Seeker took on a wide stance and his ears flattened at a new sound. His hearing was much more valuable than sight since the sun had disappeared entirely. All he could see were the crimson feathers of the beast beside him…. Which didn’t make the click, click, clicking sound surrounding them any less formidable.

He heard it every now and the. With the rushing of the wind, but it mostly drowned it out. One sounded behind him… then a few fulms away. A flash of silver and gold shone briefly in the light from his body, and then disappeared in the dust. He turned just in time for a flash of teeth and barely managed to side step it, although he found himself grazed by an unsightly appendage.

Again. A flash of teeth and another round of flailing claws breezed past him. This time Damask caught it with a kick of strong legs and the blood curdling scream they’d heard in the distance became disturbingly close for comfort.

“Aye, we’ve gotta get oot o’here… they’re underground. Damask, let’s go!”, he reached out just as another massive jaw lurched from the sands in front of him, sending the Chocobo hurtling to the side with a sickening thud. Thankfully he’d only been knock led away as far the Seeker could tell, but he was down for the count. It was time to draw them away or the bird would be a meal for what was likely four or five very hungry sand worms.

Nyx turned on a heel and ran in whatever direction fate would have him. A blur of blue was all he could see with inhuman screams sounding behind him. They reacted to sounds, to vibrations. Each step elicited a noise from them and it was obvious he’d become the hunt. The weapon in his hand dragged the ground as the Miqo’te continued forward. Added noise ensured they would follow but one misstep would be his last. Every now and then he knew he heard them breach the surface and then dive back underground.

Stopping would be suicide, and though his legs felt like they were on fire, he continued. The chase seemed endless and he knew he wouldn’t have much longer unless Lady Luck was on his side. He wasn’t afraid of death, but he’d definitely be disappointed if his story ended before he’d gotten answers.

Just as his mind had convinced him he’d need to come to terms with being eaten by massive worms in the deserts of Garlemald, he found himself tripping and connecting rather harshly with something metal. It echoed with the collision which also made his ears ring. “Fuck’s sake!”.

When he managed to open his eyes, realization struck hard and heavy. It was the supply crate that he’d hid in many many moons ago when he’d had to breach a laboratory. The writing on its side had a bunch of gibberish about medical things he’d rather not spend time on. With no hesitation, he rushed to the front of it and flipped up a metal door that rose with a little force. When he managed to get inside, he slammed it shut just in time to hear something outside colliding with it in a similar fashion to his discovery.

They had intentionally crashed themselves against, one after the other. The crate shook violently each time but somehow managed to hold its own. He was safe, for now.

#nyx ashkala #ffxiv #mateus #crystalrp #crystal data center #final fantasy xiv #character progression #oc development

[whatisthisidefk]

The River, the Sea, and the Stars Part 3 (SFW version)

***

Andros danced with him in a wooded glade, willow weeds flowing like curtains around them. It was a wild dance, with no real steps, but they laughed and whirled around each other, hands clasped, until Andros pulled him close and kissed him. They fell to their knees on the mossy ground, then tumbled to lie under the moon in each other's arms.

*

Andros fought the choppy waves alongside him; they both needed every ounce of strength to make headway in the icy water. They reached the black rocks at the edge of the shore and hauled each other up to shiver in the early morning air. Andros tucked a lock of hair behind Therien's ear and leaned in to kiss him, salty like the sea.

*

Andros held him, golden skin reflecting the red of the fire beside them. Therien held him back, his arms wrapped around Andros's waist.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you," said Andros.

"I'm going to find you," he said.

Andros laughed, and said, "I'm waiting."

*

Therien woke.

The little room was cold and still, muffled from the outside world. If he closed his eyes, Therien thought he truly could be back in Provence. He'd felt removed from the world there, too. In those days, there hadn't been an Andros, nor a Dra, nor an American scholarship. All he'd had were a doting set of adoptive parents and a joy of swimming.

Grey morning light filtered through the thin paper blind and turned everything into a muted palette of cool greys and washed-out reds and blues. It felt like the air before a snowstorm, though it was far too early in the season for that.

Dra hadn't been joking. The dreams had been vivid and so real; he had to shake his head to dispel them. He'd never danced with Andros or made love to him like that, but they felt less like fantasies and more like memories.

If only.

He swung his legs off the bed and stretched. A hunt through his suitcase found him a clean change of clothes, though he figured he'd need to do laundry soon. Jeans and a t-shirt, with a hoodie from an international competition made it onto his body before he felt alive enough to emerge from his room.

"I'm awake," he called into the apartment. "Bonjour, Dra."

"Bonjour," came her reply from behind the rightmost door in the hall. "Go freshen up and I'll meet you in the living room shortly."

"Merci." He found the bathroom behind the middle door, or what he supposed was the bathroom. It was hard to tell under the forest of houseplants that grew in pots from every corner. Even the freestanding iron tub was surrounded not by a shower curtain, but a literal curtain of broad-leafed vines.

Therien caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like hell, though better than he had the day before. He'd need a shave, but that could wait, as his kit was buried somewhere in his bag in the other room. He did manage to tame his unruly black curls into some semblance of fashionable and skimmed his hands over the short fade at the back and sides.

He scrubbed at his face with the washcloth. He hadn't properly washed since before the banquet, when he'd put on a hint of gold eyeliner to accentuate his eyes. Whatever brand it was, it lived up to its claims of staying power. He enjoyed the contrast against his dark olive skin and he'd wanted to feel as attractive as possible for whatever would happen with Andros.

That thought drove him to wash it off, as if that could wash away the fear and worry that still roiled in his gut. But once it was gone, he only felt more vulnerable, so he made a decision.

He dug through his suitcase to find the small toiletries bag and the eyeliner pen, then marched back to the bathroom to carefully apply the shimmering gold ink to his eyes again as if it was some kind of armor. When he finished, he stepped back.

Now he was ready.

***

Dra gave him an appraising look when she finally emerged from her own room. "Nice job on the eyes," was all she said, before she dumped an armload of things into the center of the living room floor. "Grab us each a cuppa, would you, love? Should be done steeping by now."

"What is all this for?" he asked, nudging a small hand axe with his foot as he went to the kitchen. "I thought we were going to find Andros. Are we camping?"

"In a way, yes. I hope you remember your time as an Éclaireur. You'll need it."

"I never told you about that, did I?" He handed her a teacup and sat on the ottoman to watch her sort through the pile.

"Oh, you most certainly did! 'Éclaireurs--Toujours Prêt!'" She laughed. "It was some college mixer where we had to tell things about ourselves. You were adorable, with your accent and your big eyes taking everything in."

"How you recall my scout motto after all this time is beyond me."

She shrugged a shoulder. "It was one of those phrases that stick in your mind. Once I learned it, it became a kind of chant. I liked how it sounded." She held up an old leather knapsack, the kind that would fetch hundreds of dollars at auction for its patina and excellent construction. Knowing Dra, she'd found it in some bargain bin at a thrift shop. "Here, you can have this one. We need to pack fairly light, but I don't want to be without a few comforts. You carry the firestarters, that little bag there."

Within an hour, the entire pile had been dispersed and neatly packed away between them. Therien had been given a belt--well, two belts, as one of Dra's was too small even for his narrow hips--and from it hung an array of bags and pouches of medical supplies, the hand axe, a multitool, and a wickedly sharp hunting knife that made Therien nervous. The satchel held the firestarters, a change of socks and underwear, and Therien's toiletries bag. Dra insisted that leaving a little space would be handy later, so he didn't argue.

Dra carried a similar set of tools, though she also added a variety of oilcloth bags of teas and herbs. Several vials of oils from the shop clinked in one of the square pouches on her own belt, and a coiled rope was fastened to her waist. Therien thought they rather looked like they were heading to a medieval faire rather than going to rescue his erstwhile boyfriend, and he told her so as they descended the stairs from her apartment into the empty shop below.

"That, my love, is because you don't know where we're going." They stood in the center of the shop, in a clear spot on the creaky wood floor. "I'm going to show you first, and then I can answer any of your questions. All right? Good. Now, stand back behind me. I need to concentrate."

Dra closed her eyes with a centering breath. She drew a large circle in the air and muttered something too softly for Therien to hear, then thrust both of her hands before her, crossing her arms straight out, fingers spread wide as she braced her legs as if against a strong wind. Her words came louder, more urgently, until she opened her eyes and flung her arms open.

With that motion, the air rippled and a faint sizzle of blue light scribed a circle before them.

Its edge rested on the floor like a tall oval mirror, but through it, instead of the opposite wall of the shop, Therien could see a wooded place, carpeted in yellow leaves. The scent of autumn came through and a breeze ruffled their hair. Therien felt weak in the knees. This shouldn't be real. It couldn't be real.

But then he remembered those golden chains stealing Andros away, and he decided that this was no less impossible.

"Step through," said Dra, her voice tight. "I can't hold this up for too long. I'm right behind you."

He wanted to hang back, but he made his feet start moving. Passing through the portal gave him a sense of vertigo, but once both feet were on the other side, it passed. He looked over his shoulder to see Dra stepping through after him. The image of the shop wavered as soon as she fully came through, then closed like an aperture and vanished.

Dra glanced around. "Not as close as I wanted to be, but it will do. This way." She strode in a seemingly random direction, though she moved with purpose. Even with his much longer legs, Therien had to hurry to catch up with her.

"Where...is this place?" he asked, looking around. "How did you do that? What was that??"

She laughed but kept walking. "That was a portal. It cuts down on travel time like you wouldn't believe." She paused, adjusted her direction, and continued along whatever path she perceived. "And we're in upstate New York."

He stopped in his tracks. "Wait--what?"

"You can't get to the Feywild directly," she called over her shoulder. "But there are places where you can pass through the veil, and this is the one I know best. Keep up, sweetheart!"

"The Fey...what?" None of it made sense, but he tried gamely to follow his friend. At least she seemed to know what she was doing.

The area they hiked through was hilly and cold, colder than Northampton had been. After an hour of endless trees and falling leaves, Dra called for a short break. They sat on a large, flat rock at the top of the hill they'd just climbed, and Dra handed him one of her homemade granola bars. "We're almost there. I should tell you about a few things before we cross over."

"That sounds ominous." As if Therien hadn't seen and experienced actual magic just that morning. But he was trying, so hard, to accept everything as it came.

Dra took pity on him. "I know this is hard to grasp, and we don't have a lot of time to go over everything. But I'm going to prepare you as much as I can." She shifted to face him. "Andros and I...we're Fey. We live human lives, but we weren't born here. We came from the Feywild, and that's where we need to go now."

"Both of you?"

"Yeah, what are the odds, right? Northampton is a hub for all sorts of weird and mystical things. That's why I settled there, and that's why Andros was drawn there to UMASS for the swim team. I mean, there are schools with better programs, but no others that promised him the shelter he needed."

Therien frowned. "You were both my best friends," he said. "How did I not know?"

"He and I figured it out not long after we met, and we promised to watch out for each other." She looked down at her hands, turning them over and flexing her fingers.  "We both cared for you, you know. He begged me not to tell you because it's never good for a mortal to get tangled up in Fey politics."

"And yet--"

She shrugged ruefully. "And yet, here we are. Now, I come and go as I please, though not often these days. Andros, though...he was always running from something. That's why he took the name he did. Andros Kaitos. It's Greek, for 'man who runs away'."

"That wasn't even his real name." Therien took a shaky breath. "How much else didn't I know about him?"

"Not much," she reassured him. "Everyone has secrets, even you. But he was usually an open book with you, bar the obvious. And," she put a hand on his arm, "he loved you. Loves, I mean. I wouldn't be doing this at all if I didn't think it was worth the risk to both of you."

He covered her hand with his. "I know. Go on. I want to be ready for whatever happens."

She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at the trees. Therien couldn't hear any traffic sounds, just the wind in the canopy above and the calls of songbirds, the rustle of dry leaves on the ground.

"Andros had an assigned place in the Feywild. He was created to be a river guardian. You see them in Greek myth a lot, and I suspect that's where his story began. River guardians come in many forms, depending on their origins, and some don't conform to any particular country's lore. In general, though, they manage a certain river or stream, and they're meant to be tied to that place at all times. Andros, though--he just couldn't sit still. And the Court to which he belonged was not known for kindness. He loved being in your world."

"So he ran away," Therien said, a question. Dra nodded.

"He escaped," she clarified. "Honestly, I'm surprised he avoided capture as long as he did. He never set down roots anywhere because he was terrified he'd be found."

Therien toyed with a leaf that blew across his foot. "It's my fault, then."

"No, no," Dra insisted, "Darling, it's not--"

"It is," he cut her off. "He said it himself that night. He'd let his guard down. That's because I caught him by surprise."

Dra studied him for a moment. "That might be," she said at length, "but it's still not on you. It was bound to happen one day. At least he's not alone, you know? Imagine if he'd been found before you could tell each other about your feelings. Imagine if he'd just disappeared without anyone around!" She glanced away. "If he'd just vanished, you might not have thought to call me. You wouldn't have learned about any of this."

He tried to imagine it, as she said. What if he hadn't been there? What if Andros had just not shown up for practice, or if they'd never spoken of their feelings? He probably wouldn't have been frantic enough to reach out to her in a moment of need. "You're right," he said aloud.

"Of course I am." She pushed herself off the rock and brushed her legs down. "Okay. Once we reach the top of the mountain, I'll need you to step only in my footsteps. That's how things work."

"Oui, mon amie."

She kept up her lecture as they resumed their walk up the hill. "The Feywild is a beautiful place, but it's called wild for a reason. Things can be as deadly as they are pleasing to the eye, and trickery abounds. There are strict rules in place that may not be broken, and that has caused the Fey folk to learn and exploit every loophole imaginable."

The hill steepened, and Dra slipped a little on the leaves. Therien helped her stand, and stayed by her in case it happened again. Even at his current peak fitness level, Therien found himself breathing hard over those last few yards to the top of the hill.

Or ravine, he realized, looking back at the way they had come. The disturbed leaves showed their passing, the path stretching down and out of sight between the trees.

But when he turned around, the scene ahead made him gasp. Aside from the slight marring of the countryside by a row of power lines and a distant cell phone tower, he could see for miles of rolling hills that turned into mountains at the horizon. The valley floor was carpeted with trees in hues of orange, yellow, brown, and occasionally red. A pair of eagles sailed above in great circles, and a flock of crows took flight and resettled not far off.

If the entrance to the fey realm was anywhere, surely this seemed as good a place as any.

Dra tugged at his arm. "This way. Remember, step in my footsteps exactly. Even if it seems silly or redundant. Got it?"

"Got it." His heart pounded. He trusted Dra. He trusted her. He had to.

She checked behind her with each step to be sure he was following her instructions. They walked toward an apparently random tree, but then circled around it to the right--counterclockwise--until they crossed their original path. Dra wove them between a series of saplings and hopped over a pointed stone that stuck out of the ground. The next tree they approached, they went around clockwise and continued toward a natural arch formed of a fallen tree caught in the crook of another.

"Through that," said Dra, startling him, "and we'll be in the Feywild." She glanced up at him and held out her hand. "Ready?"

"I trust you."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "I'll take that as a yes. Let's go save your boyfriend."

They walked through.

***

#river sea stars #jenny writes #original fiction

[monstersandmaw]

Winter Solstice - Chapter One (undergoing re-work; new chpts posted on Patreon)

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS AN OLD, FIRST DRAFT, AND IS CURRENTLY UNDERGOING A COMPLETE RE-WRITE. I’ve left it up in case you’re interested, and I intend to release it in full as a self-published novel. Consider this a tease/sneak peek.

Who remembers my Fae Realm? Well, here's Chapter One of a new story set in that universe, released on Winter Solstice night (it happens at 4.19am on Sunday 22nd December in the UK, so I think this counts).

I hope you enjoy it! See the links at the end for more stories set in this universe.

It’s been up on Patreon for only a couple of days (to keep it roughly Solstice-relevant), but the second part will be up on there for longer before it gets its Tumblr debut. As it was a surprise post, it was also available to all patrons, from the Shadows tier up.

Content: female character attacked in the woods by a mysterious dark fae creature, rescued by a shadowy fae with one wing, and the Prince of the Winter Court himself... Wordcount: 1678

___

On the longest night of the year, when the veil between the Mortal Realm and the Fae Realm is at its thinnest, its weakest, she, like the chump she was, found herself riding alone through the forest between the harbour town and her  little village.

Foxfire danced between the trees as the sun’s last rays dissolved in the watercolour sky above her, and she tried to keep her heartbeat steady as she trod the familiar path back home with her saddlebags empty and her coin purse full. She’d finally sold the last of the pendants that she’d made from old iron horse-shoes to protect mortals against the advances of the Fae, but of course, she’d not left enough time to get home.

Her ears picked up almost nothing save for the whisper of snow falling all around her. The woods were silent and empty save for the hiss of the wind in the bare branches and the steady, creaking crunch of her horse’s hooves on the old forest track. No birds sang; no deer moved between the sentinel trunks of the ancient trees; no rabbits scampered through the thorny arcs of purple-limbed brambles.

She had just leaned forwards to pat her mare’s coarse, white mane, the dapple of her coat blending in with the winter around, when the silence of the woods exploded into chaos.

Something erupted out through the trees with such force that her ears rang from the crack like a thunderclap, and snow sprayed in a thirty foot arc, spattering against trees, and sending her horse rearing up, hooves lashing out as the mare neighed an equine scream of pure terror.

She fell from the saddle and landed heavily on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs and her vision sparkling. The heavy-set mare launched herself into a plunging gallop away through the trees, tail streaming behind like a banner, leaving her rider exposed beside the frozen, woodland stream and wondering what in the name of all the realms had just happened.

Then she heard it; a slow, deep growl, and the prowling footsteps of something creeping through the mist of disturbed snow up ahead at the point of impact. Her heart thudded in her ears, almost drowning out the sound of the creature, but as she scrambled backwards in blind panic, she saw it crawling out of the debris on all fours, turning its head this way and that, snuffing and scenting the air like a hound trying to find a trail.

Its body was as big as a bear’s, but it was skeletally thin, hairless, and with gangly arms and long, spindly fingers. Its skin was a mottled greenish grey, and as it swivelled its head around and fixed its gaze on her, she was met by two enormous, moon-like eyes, glowing with a horrid, dead light.

The scream that tore itself from her throat sounded foreign to her ears. She scrabbled to her feet and grabbed the first thing her hands fell on, which happened to be a stout, fallen branch. The creature skittered this way and that, bouncing playfully off the trunks of the trees, lunging after her like a cat at play, and then it opened its maw. Horrifically, its jaw split into four, fringe-like sections, like some hideous flower, and the inside of its mouth was blood red and filled with row upon row of needle-like teeth.

She scrambled to her feet, desperately trying to find traction in the mucky slush beneath her, and swung at the creature as it made its final dash towards her, quick as a spider and as unstoppable as a charging bull.

The branch collided with the side of its head, and it staggered and veered away, snarling and snapping that grotesque mouth and narrowing its enormous eyes. The drool that dropped from its four-fold lips hissed and sizzled as it hit the snow.

A blueish light shifted in the trees a little way off behind the monster, but she didn’t have time to call out for help as it darted for her once again.

This time it was too quick and she screamed again as its vile mouth clamped down on her neck and collarbone, sinking its myriad venomous teeth into her skin. Searing pain shot through every nerve and she dropped the stick, her fingers going almost instantly limp. Its disgusting breath stung her nose, its continuous and delighted snarling filling her ears, but she could barely breathe through the pain as it tightened its grip on her and brought its long, gnarled fingers to her waist and drew her close to its foul body.

She was going to die. It was Winter Solstice, and she was going to die in the rotting claws of some foul creature from the Fae Realm.

Her arms were clamped to her sides by its terrible grip on her, but as the long, hard handle of her belt knife dug into the inside of her wrist left, she thought vaguely of freeing it somehow so she could at least try to gut the creature who was going to take her life. It had to be a Fae creature, though she had never heard of one like this before. As the best blacksmith and farrier within thirty miles of the lord’s castle, she had seen the Fae pets that the nobles kept on iron chains, parading them around like exotic animals for everyone’s entertainment. Fae on this side of the shield between the realms were not supposed to be able to access their powers. This one, however, was strong and quick, lithe, and gods above, her neck was on fire with its venom.

Finally loosing the knife as she twisted, choking on the pain and screams which lodged together in her throat, she rammed the six inch blade deep into its gut. Foul black liquid gushed out, burning her hand, but the creature released its hold on her neck immediately. She staggered and fell backwards into the snow, her right hand darting to her neck that was a mess with ragged puncture wounds. The pain was indescribable, searing beneath her skin in waves of rippling needlepoints and clenching her lungs and throat so tight that breathing became almost impossible.

The creature writhed on the ground, reaching for her with its taloned fingers, scraping them through the churning snow and mud as if determined to drag itself towards her and finish her off, no matter the cost to itself. She managed to kick it in the face with her heel before she slumped back into the snow, dizzy, cold, and sweating.

“I don’t want to die,” she rasped, turning her blurring vision up to the lacework of black branches above while the snow pattered down around her. “Please…” she prayed to no one in particular.

Hoof-beats pounding through the slush made her turn her head dazedly, and a second later, a burst of darkness exploded out like a drop of ink in water, and the creature screamed. A human-shaped figure now stood beside it, and she squinted as her own vision began to dim. She thought the figure that had erupted from the pure, writhing darkness had wings, but when he turned, she saw that in fact he only had one wing, and where there should have been a second protruding from the special slits in the back of his leather armour, there was only a ragged, black stump. The right wing hung like a giant bat’s wing down his back, and she could see dapples of moonlight through its shredded membrane.

Before she could take in much more about the figure, he had clutched the creature’s head in his hands and torn it clean off in a spray of gurgling, black ichor. The thundering hooves drew close and a second person swung down from the saddle of a huge grey stallion. The horse’s hooves danced in the snow while he whinnied and snorted at the scent of the creature’s blood.

“Is she alive?” she heard a rasping male voice ask from above her.

“Yes, highness,” the winged figure swathed in shifting darkness replied. “Looks like she did our work for us though.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, and suddenly he was crouching beside her.

His clothes were simple fighting leathers, but they were tooled with silver filigree and studded with a glimmering metal that was not of the Mortal Realm. His long, silver-white hair was tied back in a simple ponytail at the nape of his neck to reveal tapering, elegant ears, and he wore a simple band of white metal around his head. As he turned to look at her, she caught a glimpse of the right hand side of his face and gasped. Where his left cheek was smooth and pale as polished marble, his right seemed, to her blurred and fading vision, to be made of quicksilver, or iridescent ice. All the planes of his face were hard as crystallised ice and his eyes were a blue so pale they were almost white.

Their voices warped, her hearing failing as the poison in that creature’s maw got to work on her body in earnest.

“She’s going to die,” the prince remarked, in much the way that a housewife might comment that someone was nipping out to the market.

“Please,” she hissed, her fingers - slick with the creature’s black blood - groping for a hold on him. She found his hand and he wrenched it back from her clutches with a look of disgust on his beautiful face. “Please… I don’t want to die. I…” Her throat closed, but as the world tilted back into darkness in a wash of agony, she caught the flare of curiosity in his grey eyes and hoped it would be enough to move him to pity.

It didn’t occur to her that asking a Fae for her life without waiting to hear the price - and on this night of all nights - was a very, very foolish thing indeed.

Part Two

Fae Realm Stories

Prince of the Court of Night x female reader *commission* (nsfw) Part Two (nsfw)

Male winged shadowborne fae (Shaer) x female reader (nsfw) *commission* (long!)

Male reptilian fae (Adan) x female reader (nsfw) *commission*

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (sfw) *commission*

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

#fae realm #fae #fae lover #fae boyfriend #fae prince #exophilia #fae x female character #sfw

[sharada-n]

Febuwhump day 4 - Impaling

Fandom: Good Omens

(because sometimes you need to write some good old Aziraphale!whump to treat yourself!)

Many times since arriving in this cold and dark country had Aziraphale thought he would have been better off staying in London.

Not because of the weather, which was dreadfully dour and worse than what he was used to, for so far as that was still possible. Not for the people, who were broody and suspicious of strangers – certainly strangers who were quirky and fair with a bounciness to their step and panache to their speech. Not even the terrible meals were what made Aziraphale regret sailing over here.

Oh no, it was his own curiosity he lamented.

Curiosity wasn't a virtue to humans, and for angels even less so. But Aziraphale was weak and wont to give in to his own whims and as he was pushed against the moist forest ground scattered with dead leaves by two men, he realized he couldn't name the little village he had been staying in, or which country this was.

They did tell him curiosity killed the cat.

The boy was barely a few years into puberty, dark hair and big green eyes that only grew wider in fear when his father pressed the wooden stake and the hammer into his hands. Hawthorne carved and sculpted and said to be perfect to extirpate the creatures of myth that were currently rumored to roam these parts. The same myths Aziraphale had traveled so far to learn more about, to record for the sake of human peculiarities.

The father spoke in rushed tones, a language Aziraphale knew as he did all others, but didn't hear often in the Queen's country. His speech was too disjointed to make out much anyway, though the underlying purpose was clear. Somehow they had become convinced that those terrible soulless creatures of the night were real.

And that Aziraphale was one of them.

With the intent of keeping their families safe and keeping themselves safe, they had decided to take the only logical course of action and kill him. Two men kept a firm grip on Aziraphale's arms, calloused hands digging into the wool of his coat and using force to push him to his knees. The third man had brought his young son, Aziraphale could not decipher why. but he could decipher perfectly what his intention was as he handed the stake over to the boy, pointing a finger and talking another few low words.

A scared glance was sent his way before the boy was shaking his head, fingers curled around the wood and he was shivering either from fear or cold as he tried to force the improvised tools back into his father's hands. For all his efforts, they were only put back into his own. Another few words and then the father shoved his son forward with a firm push to the small of his back.

The dim dusk light reflected off the tears threatening to spill from the boy's eyes. Aziraphale wanted to say something – wanted to tell the poor lad that this was all a big mistake and he shouldn't have to do this – but the words had dried on his tongue like holy water in the pits of hell. Motionless, he watched the child raise the stake with one hand, the hammer with the other, pressing it up to their own shoulders in anticipation.

Then it descended towards Aziraphale's chest.

Pain ripped through his being as the stake pierced his skin, burrowing into the flesh beneath. Aziraphale hadn't been frightened – such a silly human emotion for one who couldn't die. And while not the most gracious way to go, being staked at least was supposed to be quick and instant when done right.

Which was how he realized seconds later, it had not been done right.

The ripples of agony were radiating too low, below his ribcage and when he opened his eyes he could see blood pool out and stain his waistcoat, making dark patches against the ground. The stake had buried deep, but too low. Much too low to reach his heart.

The boy realized his mistake at the same time, letting out a high-pitched and terrified squeak. One of the men holding Aziraphale's arms let go in surprise, but he didn't manage much more than to slump forward, renewing the pain from his wound to new heights. Blinking out of his stupor, the father started loudly cursing at his son for failing what was probably perceived as a simple task, a rite of approaching adulthood for people of their craft. He snatched the hammer out of the boy's hands and then went to make a grab for the stake still protruding from Aziraphale's chest.

A smothered gasp escaped him, the wood actually being a lot more painful when exiting than when it went in. The foul taste of iron spread in Aziraphale's throat, blood coming up with unsubdued coughs to stain his lips.

On command, the other man let go too and then Aziraphale was tumbling backward, the back of his head hitting the ground with a dull thud, getting leaves tangled in his curls. He could barely see the sky through the trees and his vision was already growing hazy.

Truly, God must have been in the foulest of moods when she came up with the blessing of a drawn-out death.

The father towered over him in blurry shapes, the stake the only remaining solid objects in Aziraphale's vision and he had given up praying a long time ago – hadn't seen the use of it when he had a direct line to heaven itself – but at that moment he could only hope it would be swift and painless.

But what he was waiting for never came.

Instead, it was Crowley's hands that touched his cheeks, traveled coldly down the length of his neck and downward more to pull his coat to the side. Aziraphale tried to protest, a vague murmur with no strength behind it that was cut off by a gasp when he felt his own corporal tissue sewing itself together. The pain was indescribable and far worse than the stake had been.

Then Crowley was trying to hoist him up by his armpits to get him into a seated position. Hurt echoed through him, but not as unbearable as before and Aziraphale managed to comply, leaning against the other for support. His head fell onto Crowley's shoulder.

"You shouldn't waste a miracle on me, dear fellow." Even speaking was hard with traces of blood clogging up his throat. The wound had healed enough to not be fatal anymore, but not much more than that.

"Do piss off," was Crowley's response, ever eloquent. His head whipped from side to side as if he was looking for something but he seemed to think better of it. "C'mon then."

Aziraphale shook his head, indicating he was in no position to go gallivanting off just yet. He feared that using his legs now would only cause them to collapse underneath him. "Where are the humans, the boy-"

"I didn't kill them if that's what you're asking," Crowley said, the faint traces of displeasure on his face. He was too humanely pale with worry.

Forcing a smile that might resemble more of a grimace in the current circumstances, Aziraphale answered. "I wasn't."

Crowley looked at him, the fiery color of his eyes over the spectacles and Aziraphale always thought he looked a bit silly like that. But he never mentioned it. Knowing when to keep your tongue was not a human virtue either, but it certainly was a divine one.

"How did you find me?" he asked when he felt recovered enough to get up. Crowley supported him in the endeavor, throwing one of Aziraphale's arms over his shoulder and keeping his own curled tight around his waist.

Crowley carefully started moving, throwing continued glances at his face to make sure he wasn't in any undue pain. "You pinned a note on the door of the bookshop, angel. Said you were going to hunt vampires?"

"It was in jest."

"You don't say." Crowley kicked at the stake on the ground, stained red with Aziraphale's blood. Dropped in the men's haste to get away from a real creature of the night making its appearance. "Looks like they found you first. You really are stellar at getting into trouble, you know. Good thing I'm always there to save you."

Aziraphale tried to laugh, but his chest hurt too much to allow it. "I do hope that was also in jest."

Crowley didn't reply. And that in itself might have been answer enough.

#good omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #febuwhump #febuwhumpday4 #my writing

[willow-salix]

Here's my offering for the second FabFiveFeb with the awesome @gumnut-logic focusing on the gorgeous Gordon. I used two of the prompts. Enjoy!

Selene's eyes cut to the side away from the book that she promised John she'd read but was continuing to boggle her brain.

He was there again, hanging around near the bedroom door, haunting the hallway, stalking the sleeping quarters of the house. And it was getting annoying, she'd have to do something about it. It was hard enough to concentrate on "Unlocking the Universe" without the constant distractions of the sighing, whining, moaning apparition outside. 

The figure moved past the door again, looking in at her. She tossed the book aside and sat up. 

"Gordon! What the hell is wrong with you?" 

The sun lightened, tousled blonde head popped around the door frame. 

"Oh, Selly, are you done reading?" 

"Well I am now."

He bounded in like an enthusiastic puppy, dropping down on the end of the bed, forcing her to move her feet quickly out of the way. 

"Did you want something?" 

"No, it's all good." He glanced around, his eyes taking in the new editions to his brother's room. Since Selene had been in his life John had definitely lightened up, growing more comfortable in his own skin and spending more time with them all but, even though Selene had gone shopping with Grandma and Virgil to pick out a few things to make herself feel more at home, John's uniqueness still shined through. 

They had all wondered if Selene would take advantage of John's suggestion that she redecorate his room, but they should have known better. Selene never acted as you would expect her too, very much like all the women in their lives. They were used to strong women that never followed the crowd, Kayo, Grandma, Penelope, it stood to reason that anyone the brothers met would be just as special. 

John's posters and star charts were still on the walls, but a few new types of chart had joined them, ones that showed the phases of the moon and its meanings, the sun and the solstices and the constellations related to star signs. 

Her books were intermingled with his own, her clothes were in his wardrobe mixed in with his,  items of makeup and toiletries were scattered around his bathroom and little interesting trinkets and her divination tools had joined his collection of space rocks, awards and celestial models on his shelves. The room had been softened with the addition of softly glowing lamps, fluffy blankets, a squishy armchair that Selene liked to curl up in and a couple of house plants. 

But the most interesting item to appear was what she called her altar, a small, scarf draped table nestled in a corner near the window. It held her tools, candles, crystals and other interesting things he didn't know the use of. The room now smelled of sweet incense and warm candle wax instead of its scent of furniture polish and occasionally John's shower gel. 

He had expected the room to feel different, but he could still sense his brother's presence in there even though he was currently up in Five. Somehow they had managed to blend effortlessly, a natural evolution of the two. 

Gordon would never admit it but he had moments of intense jealousy when he saw the two of them together. Not that he begrudged his brother the happiness he had obviously found, nor that he saw Selene as anything but a much loved sister who often seemed like a female Scott, put there to worry, boss him around and force him to eat. 

No, he just wished he had the same thing. It seemed rather unfair that his brother could manage to meet someone in such a random way and find his perfect partner when, try as he might, he could never seem to get any closer to the one who held his heart in her perfectly manicured hand. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. It seemed that every time they got close to their moment something or someone got in the way. 

"Spit it out."

He jerked out of his musings. "What?" 

"Whatever it is that you're thinking so hard about," she reached out and smoothed her thumb down the scrunched up skin between his eyebrows. 

She was right, he had been hovering, mostly because he was trying to get up the guts to not only ask for help but put his plan into action. He guessed it was now or never. 

"Sel, I need your help with something, call it my birthday present."

Selene sat up a little straighter. "OK, obviously I'll help with anything, unless it's a prank on your brother, in which case I'll still help but I'll deny all knowledge and throw you under the bus in a heartbeat."

"Good to know," he grinned, her teasing as always, putting him at ease. "Promise you won't tell anyone about this either."

She touched her hand to her heart and drew a little cross. "Cross my heart, I won't tell a soul."

"OK, first I need to show you something, but we're gonna need transport."

                                        ***

Selene's nose was pressed against the window of the little sub, her eyes drinking in the sight of the world outside. 

"Wow…this is just…wow." She had never expected there to be so many colours illuminated by the powerful lights of Four. A moving rainbow of waving, pulsing, rippling beauty that covered the sea floor, building up into what could only be described as an underwater garden. Mounds of coral in all colours created a hilly backdrop for the shoals of colourful fish that swam lazily around them. 

"Better than space?" Gordon nudged her playfully with his elbow. 

"I will never admit it to your brother, but it might just top it. This is incredible, I mean, I've never even been scuba diving."

"You've never…" he shook his head in equal parts amazement and disappointment. "That's it, I'm teaching you to dive. It's amazing, you know John used to join me a lot, he likes to skindive," he saw the blank look on her face. "Where you dive without a suit, just with an aqualung and flippers. He helped teach me to swim you know, Scott wanted to throw me in and let me work it out for myself as Dad did to him and Virg, but John was insistent that he help."

"That's so cute."

"No it's not, it's manly and the complete opposite of cute."

"Sorry, not cute at all, you're right," but her grin said he would never change her mind, she was just humouring him. 

"We're nearly there," he said, changing the subject. "It should be around this area, I worked with Dr Forsythe at the Living Oceans foundation, who specialises in Coral Reef conservation, the results ended up being pretty positive."

"Is that where we're going now?" 

He nodded. "You should start seeing some any minute now."

It was nice and quite interesting to see the way Gordon handled his craft. It was nowhere near as big, fancy or fast as the other Thunderbirds, but he acted like it was an extension of himself. She was used to seeing Gordon as the playfully mischievous one that she often caught plotting something, or out on a mission when he was all seriousness with the odd burst of light. This was different, this was his element and he was beyond comfortable. It was nice to see him so relaxed and happy. 

The first flicker caught his eye and he paused, his finger pointing the way. Her eyes followed his directions, growing wider as she saw the result of his months of effort. 

"That… is truly amazing, boo. She'll love this."

"So you'll help me get her out here?" 

"Oh, you can count on it."

                                     ***

"I do so enjoy our little shopping trips," Penelope tucked her arm though Selene's, "you always find such interesting little shops that I would never have thought to look in."

They had wandered all over Union Square and were now making their way down to the bay, Selene having had a nice little restaurant recommended where they could have dinner. 

"I love that dress you got, you suit vintage, it will look beautiful on you. I just wish my style suited it a bit more, but we can't all be blonde and beautiful."

"Oh hush, I happen to know a certain space monitor who thinks you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Selene smiled, catching sight of their destination. 

"And I happen to know an aquanaut who thinks the same about you," Selene pointed down to the beach where Four sat, surrounded by people. 

The shock on Penelope's face was a sight to behold, it took a lot to surprise her, but they had definitely managed it. 

"Don't keep him waiting."

"But what about dinner? What will you do, Parker isn't returning for at least four hours?" 

"John's picking me up in an hour in my car, we've got a date night. Now go," she gave Penelope a gentle push towards the railings.

Feeling uncharacteristically unsure as to what she was doing and rather ambushed, Penelope slowly descended the steps down to the beach. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, why was he even here, on his birthday of all days, when he should be celebrating with his family. 

The back hatch of Four opened to reveal a grinning Gordon. He cambered out, stretching to his full height but instead of the standard blue uniform he was dressed in smart, grey trousers and a plain white shirt with not a palm tree in sight. His usually messy hair was brushed and an attempt had clearly been made to tame the unruly mop. 

"Lady Penelope."

"Gordon, happy birthday."

"It is now, and also," he reached back into his craft and drew out a bouquet of pink roses, "happy Valentines day."

Penelope could feel an uncharacteristic blush warming her cheeks as she took the flowers. 

"Will you do me the honour of being my Valentine tonight?" 

She nodded. "I'd like that very much."

"I've got something to show you, care to take a little trip with me?" 

"How could I turn down such an offer?"

She took his offered hand and climbed aboard. 

                                     ***

Penny had been under water more times than she could count, being an experienced diver and having a car that was more than waterproof, but nothing compared to sitting beside Gordon Tracy as he piloted them deeper into the ocean. 

He'd programmed in the coordinates and left the small craft on autopilot as he produced a picnic basket from her favourite London deli, filled with all her favourites. 

She would never have believed that he had it in him to put together such a romantic gesture, he'd likely had a little help since Selene was obviously involved, but she found she didn't really mind. 

It was nice to be alone together, especially with no chance of interruption bar an emergency. No nosy Parker to wedge himself between them, no darling Bertie to demand their attention, no rescuees to reassure, no brothers to interrupt. Just them and the quiet peace of the ocean. It was rather blissful. 

Now that they had time to talk they made the most of it, chatting between bites of crusty bread, tangy cheese, succulent grapes and a very palatable white wine, catching up on their lives the past few months. 

She looked more beautiful than he had expected, dressed down in casual jeans and a cosy sweater, clothes that one wore to go shopping with a friend rather than to a society event. It was strange but most definitely not unpleasant to see her out of her comfort zone and designer clothes, to see the real woman underneath. This was the one he'd wanted to get to know, the one he was drawn to. 

Penelope found her gaze drawn over and over to the gentle curve of his lips as she watched him eat, recalling just how soft they had felt during their one, brief kiss. She hadn't planned it, she'd just been overwhelmed by everything, seeing him back on active duty after his brush with death had been emotional for her and she'd thrown aside all decorum, giving in to the urge. Now she wanted to be able to do that again, wanted to lean in, close the distance between them and lose herself in the unique presence that was Gordon Tracy. 

He blinked his big caramel eyes at her and she was done for, she inched forward as he did the same...BEEP… 

Gordon leapt back into the pilots seat as they neared a reef, growing instantly more serious as he took back control of the little craft from the autopilot now they had reached their destination, steering it expertly past clusters of coral and waving fronds of exotic underwater plants and little darting fish. 

Gordon watched her eyes drinking in the sight of the reef he'd so lovingly helped to cultivate, to save for future generations. 

"I've been working with a guy specialising in marine conservation breeding, basically breeding hardier fish with those that are endangered, trying to create new breeds that will survive the changing climate."

"Oh really? That's fascinating. Were you successful?" 

Gordon didn't speak for a second, guiding the nose of the sub around a particularly large group of pink puffy anemones. There they were, still in their shoal, lazily swimming, almost exactly where he and Selene had found them two days previously. 

"You tell me," he nodded towards the small, genetically perfect saddleback butterflyfish. 

"Oh my," Penelope stared at the fish, their bodies sparkling in the light of Four's high beams. There was only one way to describe the shine of their scales, the way they seemed to be a silvery pearl colour one moment and with a flick of their body you saw a rainbow of colours…

"Iridescent," she whispered in awe. "I have never seen anything so beautiful. And you helped create them?" 

Gordon smiled proudly, watching his babies swimming happily around the craft as they floated gently through the shoal. They were graceful, unbothered by their presence, seemingly curious as they came right up to the glass to investigate. "Yep, I got to name them too."

"You did? What are they called?" Penelope tickled her finger against the window, laughing with delight as a fish followed her movements, booping its nose on the glass. 

"Well, obviously they have their species name of Chaetodon Ephipippium but in English," he paused, slightly embarrassed now that he was here with her. He took a deep breath, remembering what Selene had instructed him, be bold, be brave, be daring."In English it's a Pretty Penny."

She blinked, unprepared for the wave of emotion his information provoked. He'd named them after her. These beautiful, unique creatures he'd created would forever be a reminder of just how special he was. 

"That's…well…it's very flattering, and they are certainly very pretty," Penelope turned her head, hoping he wouldn't see her blush. She didn't know what to say, how to react. 

Gordon's eyebrows drew down in a frown, did she not like them? Had he been wrong? Be bold, be brave…He reached out a hand and cupped her chin gently, turning her back to face him. 

"Do you not like them?" 

She covered his hand with hers, managing a shaky smile. "No, I love them."

"Then what's the problem?" 

"We can't, we can't do this, not now." She gently pulled his hand away and set it aside. 

"Why not? Give me one good reason?" he refused to let go of her hand. "Just one. Tell me you don't want me and I'll back off."

"What about finding your father? The launch of the new Zero-X?" 

"That isn't a reason not to, that's a reason to take every chance we can and act on it. We don't know what we're going to find up there, if we will even find anything at all. If this and International Rescue itself has taught us anything, it's that life is too short and too unpredictable to waste opportunities by being cautious and scared. You have to grab your happiness with both hands."

"This could change things between us, and not for the better." 

"Or it could make it more amazing. Look at John, he took a leap of faith and I've never seen him happier. I want that, Penny, I want that with you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewellery box, opening it to reveal a natural pearl, carved into the shape of a seashell, strung on a delicate gold chain. 

"What do you say Valentine? Will you be mine?" 

His handsome face was full of hope but also wariness, fear of rejection. Would it be so bad to risk her heart on one such as he? Gordon was a joker, he rarely ever took anything seriously, but here he was, the most sincere she'd ever seen him.

He was one of the good guys, he saved people, he didn't hurt them. He was worth taking a risk for.

"Tell me you don't want me," he whispered again, a plea for her to tell him the truth. She was powerless to resist. 

"I can't," she whispered back as she moved closer. 

His lips brushed hers in the softest of kisses, his mouth catching her little sigh of relief as his arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer. There was no one to interrupt them, no one to tell them no, no one but them. 

No matter what happened in the future, good or bad, they would always have this moment, they would have each other, and the world would have the pretty little fishes that floated outside their little sub of solitude. 

#gordon tracy #pen and ink #FabFiveFeb #Thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go

[sciencespies]

A strange, glowing ultraviolet aurora has just been detected around a comet

https://sciencespies.com/space/a-strange-glowing-ultraviolet-aurora-has-just-been-detected-around-a-comet/

A strange, glowing ultraviolet aurora has just been detected around a comet

Aurora – the dancing glow of ionised particles in Earth’s upper atmosphere – is not unique to our planet.

The phenomenon has been spotted shining in the atmospheres of every other planet except Mercury. Even Jupiter’s moons Ganymede and Europa have auroras.

Never, until now, had an aurora been detected on a comet.

But, in a new analysis of data collected by the Rosetta spacecraft, the space around Comet 67P Churyumov-Gerasimenko (67P/C-G) has been observed glowing with far-ultraviolet auroral radiation.

“I’ve been studying the Earth’s auroras for five decades,” said physicist Jim Burch of the Southwest Research Institute.

“Finding auroras around 67P, which lacks a magnetic field, is surprising and fascinating.”

Auroras are generated by the excitation of charged particles in an atmosphere.

Here on Earth, for instance, the solar wind blows into the magnetosphere and interacts with charged particles there.

These particles rain down into the upper atmosphere and are funneled up the magnetic field lines to the poles, where they manifest as rippling curtains of light.

It works differently on different bodies, though. The auroras of Ganymede and Europa are generated by interactions with Jupiter’s magnetic field.

Venus doesn’t have a magnetic field of its own that we know of, but interactions with the solar wind creates one strong enough to trigger auroras.

Mars‘ atmosphere is extremely thin, but its weak magnetic field can support auroras.

Jupiter’s permanent aurora isn’t caused by the solar wind, but some mysterious mechanism yet to be discovered.

And while Saturn’s main auroral ring seems to be solar wind-generated, there are patches of it that… are unpredicted. That’s also still a mystery.

Comet 67P/C-G doesn’t even have a borrowed magnetic field. But it does have an atmosphere, of sorts – the envelope of gas called a coma that surrounds the nucleus of an active comet when it draws close enough to the Sun for ices trapped therein to sublimate.

It was in this coma that the far-ultraviolet (FUV) spectrograph on the Alice instrument aboard the Rosetta spacecraft detected a glow in far ultraviolet light.

Alice’s Ion and Electron Sensor (IES) detected an even bigger surprise – electrons from the solar wind.

“Initially, we thought the ultraviolet emissions at comet 67P were phenomena known as ‘dayglow,’ a process caused by solar photons interacting with cometary gas,” said astronomer Joel Parker of the Southwest Research Institute.

“We were amazed to discover that the UV emissions are aurora, driven not by photons, but by electrons in the solar wind that break apart water and other molecules in the coma and have been accelerated in the comet’s nearby environment. The resulting excited atoms make this distinctive light.”

The team simulated a weakly outgassing comet, and found that interplanetary magnetic field lines draped around the comet are sufficient to provide a path to accelerate solar wind electrons into a potential well created by an electric field around the cometary nucleus, produced by the cometary plasma.

However, because the comet has no magnetic field of its own, the aurora itself is diffuse, in contrast to contained auroras generated by solar wind excitation on Earth and Mars.

The combination of the acceleration process and the excitation process make Comet 67P/C-G’s aurora unique so far in the Solar System, the researchers said.

The discovery could offer new clues to understanding how auroras are generated throughout the Solar System.

But cometary auroras can be used as a tool for understanding space weather. By probing the glow at various distances from the Sun, astronomers could learn a lot about electron variability in the solar wind.

Could comets get any more awesome?

The research has been published in Nature Astronomy.

#Space

#Space