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beachylupin · 10 months

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Harvest Moon || Remus Lupin x Muggle!Fem!Reader

it's finally here! here’s the moodboard to go with it! i worked far too hard on this so please let me know if you like it or if you want to see more of her! <3 to preface: this part takes place in roughly september :-) pt. 2 here word count: 4.6k warnings: mention of alcohol and cigarettes, maybe like two swear words, fluffy, some pining, quickly edited

You and Lily went to primary school together. Your mum and dad loved her like she was their own, and even though she had loving parents, she would often spend a lot of her evenings after school and summers at your house, evading Petunia’s constant need to bully her. The two of you were like sisters: sharing secrets, having constant sleepovers, playing pretend.

However, there was something different about her that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Petunia incessantly told you that Lily was a witch, but you didn’t believe her. Why would you believe someone who hated the girl that you loved so dearly? Lily wasn’t green or wicked, and she didn’t have a wart growing on the end of her nose. That’s all witches were to you back then, and Lily was the opposite. She was radiant and kind, like sunlight on a dark day. She was your best friend, not some evil hag.

It wasn’t until a giggling Lily appeared on your doorstep the July before you turned eleven.

“Look!” She said, shoving an odd letter into your hand. “It’s for a place called Hogwarts! Go on! Read it!”

She eagerly watched you read it out loud. “Dear Miss Evans. You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” You couldn’t believe it. Lily, the radiant girl, was actually a witch. Petunia was right all along, and that September, Lily left to go to this magical school.

When Lily came home, she had befriended the greasy haired boy from down the street that you had only known as “snipe” from the kids at school, saying he looked close to the little bird that shared the name. You were willing to share her, seeing as he had no other options for friends, but he tried to take Lily away from you completely, saying she was his kind. Of course, Lily didn’t stand for this and split her time with the two of you equally.

As the years went on, the more you grew to dislike Severus. It was almost like he had a vendetta against you because you were Lily’s friend before she was his, or something like that. Whatever it was, you kept your head high whenever you saw him, ignoring his constant “filthy muggle” comments, and greeting him with a nice, “Hi, Severus! It’s so wonderful to see you again!”

His possessiveness didn’t seem to matter in the long run because Lily came back from her fifth year at this magical school gushing to you about some bloke named James. He was all she ever talked about. James, James, James.

“He’s annoying, and kind of a prick, but God, I just love looking at him…”

You felt like her real sister as you cursed Lily under your breath the entire way to the reception tent next to Potter Manor. She didn’t invite anyone else in your family to her wedding except you.

Sure, you were the only one to really know Lily, but a quick explanation, and your mum wouldn’t have asked any questions.

It wouldn’t have been that simple, you decided, when you saw the actual wedding. James and Lily took part in what the pixie-haired girl sitting next to you called the “Unbreakable Vow” in which they used wands to seal their promise to marriage. If one of them were to break this vow, they would die, the girl explained. It sounded intense, but as a hopeless romantic, it was one of the most beautiful sentiments of love you had ever seen.

Their vow keepers were the best man and maid of honor. The best man wore flamboyant plum dress robes with jewels adoring the lapels. He had shoulder-length, raven-colored hair and the biggest smile you had ever seen. He didn’t let the smile drop once. The maid of honor wore a pretty sapphire blue dress that complemented her skin tone very well. She wore her curls in a high bun, curly bangs framing her face.

James and Lily looked magnificent. James had on maroon dress robes that nearly matched his best man’s, but they were more humble with gold accents rather than the gaudy jewels the other man chose. Lily wore an ivory dress that flowed off her body like it was made of water. It had lace cap sleeves, and a bodice that contoured to her small shape. Every step she took, the ground blossomed with small lilies.

The more you looked around, the more you realized that everyone dressed insanely nice. You felt self conscious seeing that other people around went “all out” for this wedding: beautiful gowns and tea-length dresses of all colors of the rainbow, and the fanciest dress-robes you had ever seen adorned with silver, gold, and jewels. Obviously, you thought, they had gotten their clothes enchanted, seeing a special tailor to look as amazing as they did.

You got to work with Primark and Harrods, and since you didn’t have the luxury of getting something custom made by a literal wizard, you looked simple. You wore your hair down your back in loose waves, a plunging rose colored dress, and nude heels. In any wizard’s eyes, you’d look plain, unwilling to flaunt your nonexistent wealth through fancy clothes.

While the other people were nice and smiled widely at you as you walked past, you could tell that they knew you were different. It was in the hushing of their voices as you passed, and the way they looked at you like you had something growing out of the top of your head.

As far as you could tell, you were the only outsider in a sea of people that seemed to know each other. They all mingled, hugging and kissing each other like none of them expected this type of occasion, which baffled you.

Lily and James were made for one another. Even though James was quite literally Lily’s opposite, they worked. They fit together like two fiery puzzle pieces. You couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t be expecting their wedding.

You self-consciously raked a hand through your hair, taking extra care to not snag any of it on your fingers, and looked at the table spots on the board next to the giant tent, desperately searching for your name. When you found it at table nine, you walked, head down, into the tent to sit down.

You took your seat in the nearly empty tent, pouring yourself a generous amount of the table wine, and drank it down. You sighed, taking a breath for what felt like the first time in an hour.

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself shy, but in this specific scenario, you felt yourself clamming up. These people, the party; it was all overwhelming. It was so different from the normal, non-magical life you were used to. You were normally willing to talk to just about anyone, but feeling underdressed at a huge wedding where you thought you were the only outsider left you feeling less than worthy.

You poured yourself another glass of wine and took a butter mint, popping it into your mouth. You sucked on it, looking around the slow-to-fill tent to catch a man glancing at you.

He was tall, lanky, and just so happened to be one of the most normally dressed people you had seen all evening. He wore a creamy brown sweater, with darker brown slacks, and a jacket that matched. From where you sat, you could see the faintest stubble on his cheeks and around his mouth. He was leaning on a cane, but didn’t seem to look any older than you since he had sandy brown hair that was long and swept off to the side with not a grey in sight.

A chill ran through you, and you looked away, feeling your face flush. He was handsome, and you decided then and there that at one point during this strange reception, you would talk to him. Needing the eventual confidence, you took another sip, glancing to see if he was still standing there, but he wasn’t.

“So you were the name I didn’t recognize,” said a voice from behind you, followed by a mention of your name.

“Oh!” You nearly jumped out of your skin, setting your wine down before you dropped it on your lap.

“I’m sorry, love! I didn’t mean to startle you!” He gushed, patting your shoulder as he pulled out the chair next to you to sit.

Embarrassed at the way his hand made your shoulder burn, you huffed, “You didn’t startle-”

You turned to look at him, your mouth turning bone dry despite the mint you had been sucking on.

It was the same man that had been staring at you before. Closer up, you could see that he had jagged white lines covering his face. A fresh scratch worked its way down his cheek, sure to leave a scar to match the rest of them. If you looked closer, you could see the tip of a wand sticking out of his jacket pocket. You were wrong.

You blinked, realizing you had been trying to figure out how to melt inside the chocolate that his eyes resembled. You swallowed the mint thickly. “Sorry, um-” you said sheepishly, tucking hair behind your pink-tipped ears. “What did you say your name was?”

You suddenly felt drunk, butterflies filling your belly with tenacity, but your mouth was so dry that you had to take another sip of wine before saying anything else.

“I didn’t,” he said, sitting. “I’m Remus.” He stuck his hand out to capture yours in his with a quick shake. Your eyes flicked to his hand, seeing if it was on fire. He was looking too, your gaze captured in the middle when you both looked up at each other. You pulled your hands away at the same time, Remus making himself busy by hanging his coat and cane on the back of his chair, a smile lingering on his lips.

You stared at the plate in front of you, trying to mentally blame your flush on the amount of wine you had already consumed. “Do uh- Do you know everyone here?” You asked, glancing at him.

Remus blew a puff of air out of his nose, amused as he looked around. “Just about everyone. You?”

“Nobody except for Lily,” you said, grabbing another buttermint to try and sate your dry mouth. “I mean, I know of James, but I spent every summer with Lily when she was home from school.”

“Oh?” Remus said, sitting straighter. He cleared his throat like had gotten something stuck. “Where did you go to school?”

“Saint Grogory’s,” you answered him. You tried to ignore that he was staring at his lap instead of you, his posture still stiff. “Now I work at a cafe while I’m going to the University of London to get my Master’s in English Literature.”

“You can just study that?” He asked quietly, looking at you. Your eyebrows raised with amusement, gathering that he didn’t know you knew about any of them. “Sorry, that’s a daft question,” he said, exasperated. “I mean, that’s really… Um- That’s really neat.” You didn’t say anything, deciding to let the poor wizard flounder. “I’d go to school for… For um… For maths, but I hate maths, so it wouldn’t really-”

“I know that I’m the only muggle here,” you said, eyebrows still raised as your mouth tugged into a smile. “It’d be very hard to think this was a normal muggle wedding. There are candles floating mid air. That doesn’t happen in the muggle world. You know that right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah.” He visibly relaxed, sending his gaze skyward as his ears started to burn red. “Here I was thinking that I was about to spoil everything.”

“Lily told me the day she got the letter,” you said, smirking as you nudged him. “I sure got you though.”

The heat from Remus’ ears made its way to his face, his cheeks turning crimson as he nodded, looking back at you.

“Wine?” You asked, filling his cup without a response. “How do you know Lily then?”

Remus took his glass before you overfilled it, taking a sip. “We went to school together.”

“Is that where everyone is from?” You asked, and he nodded.

“Mainly,” he said, looking around. “A few from-”

“There you are!” The best man shouted, slapping Remus on the back. He rested his bottom on the table next to his friend. He peered over to you, his grey eyes sparkling. “Magnificent wedding, isn’t it? I heard the house elves did a real bang-up job on the feast too.” He grabbed the near empty bottle of wine, pouring what was maybe a sip into the glass next of him. “Merlin, Moons, you finished it all yourself? Nervous about sitting next to a pretty bird?”

“Sorry, that was me,” you admitted, flushing when the raven-haired man looked back at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“No worries,” he said, waving his hand nonchalantly over the bottle. It filled instantly, and he took it, pouring more into his glass.

You blinked hard, staring at the wine bottle. Grabbing it, you peered inside to make sure it was real. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?” He asked incredulously. “Do you not know that spell or something?”

Remus took the bottle from you, setting it in front of his friend. He introduced you to his friend, finishing with, “Sirius, this is Lily’s friend from home.”

Sirius paled. “Oh… Fuck.” His hands met his face as he muttered something about James being upset. He looked at you, his face still alarmingly pale as he started taking out his wand. “I’m so sorry, love. Just sit still, and I can help you forget-”

“I just didn’t know that you could do magic with your hands,” you said, still staring at the wine bottle. “I thought you always needed a wand.”

Sirius shook his head, the color slightly returning to his face as he deadpanned, “What?”

“She knows we’re all wizards, you plank,” Remus sighed, drinking his wine. “Put your wand away.”

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, a smile breaking his face. “Oh, good! Brilliant! Ignore that comment then.” He pocketed his wand then turned to his friend. “Have you got a light and a ciggy?”

Remus huffed, patting the table in front of you. “Excuse us for just a moment, will you?” He grabbed his cane, slipped on his coat, and he and Sirius went off to smoke.

Sirius was right. Dinner was magnificent, as well at the people who sat with you. Remus was back in time to introduce you to them all. Frank and Alice, who said they were going to have the next wedding, were the same people you sat next to during the ceremony. Next to them sat Marlene and Dorcas. Marlene had a bright smile and a head full of white blonde hair that hardly ever left Dorcas’ tanned shoulder. On the other side of Frank sat Peter, who looked to be the youngest of the group with his baby-faced cheeks.

The wine was passed and refilled a few more times as the night went on, as well as special cocktails, feuling riveting conversations amongst the wizards and witches. You decided to listen, taking in everything the boys were talking about. From the legalization of recreational boomslang to the crackdown on broom riding. Eventually, their conversation hushed down to mumbles and whispers.

Dorcas, Marlene, and Alice, however, were busily chatting about her wedding and how excited she was to finally marry Frank. They eventually roped you in on their conversation, asking your opinion about what would be better: live unicorns or a toad choir. Of course, you chose unicorns which had the girls roaring in laughter.

By the time that James and Lily danced their first dance, you felt good, and that wasn’t including the way you brushed up against Remus’s side as you stood alongside your newfound friends.

“We’re gettin’ drinks then goin’ to dance,” you slurred, the butterflies reemerging as he looked at you. “You want me t’ grab you somethin’? ‘M gettin’ water.”

He shook his head, pushing himself up from the chair. “I’ll come with you.”

“You sure?” You asked, watching him grab his cane and coat and nod a goodbye to Frank and Peter. “‘S not a big deal f’ me-”

“I insist,” Remus said, walking past you, slightly turning over his shoulder. “Come on then.”

You caught up, trying not to stumble alongside him. Focused on him, the two of you walked straight past the drink table.

As if Remus could sense your reminder, he said, “I want to show you something quick,” and led you out of the tent into the dusky lawn.

You didn’t protest, rather you felt bad for him, his nose scrunching every time he took a step. You lightly hooked your arm in his, your hand resting on his bicep.

“You ‘right?” You asked, feeling dumb as the words left your mouth. “‘M sorry. That was rude.”

“It’s a valid question,” he reassured you with a soft nudge of his elbow. “Hip just acts up sometimes. I’ll live,” he said, glancing at you as you pressed your cheek against his arm. “Are you okay?”

You sighed. “Yeah.” You moved off his arm, rubbing the side of your face that touched him, praying there wasn’t a burn mark. “I think I overshot.”

“You were drinking a lot of wine,” he snorted, opening a large manor door for you. “Do you need some water?” You entered, and he followed you, offering you his arm again. “A sober up potion?”

“The latter,” you said, desperate to feel the burning in your hand again as you hooked onto him. “‘M gonna hurl if I drink anymore.”

“We don’t want that.” Remus led you down a long hallway in the expansive manor. Marble floors and large columns made up the hallway, breaking off into the entryway and the living room. The two of you passed the huge, bustling kitchen and came to a double door.

“Here,” Remus said, nudging the door open slightly. “You go wait in there while I go find that potion, alright love?”

You nodded and the corner of his mouth tugged into a half smile. You watched him, entering the door he had nudged open.

You could’ve dropped dead on the spot, and you would’ve died the happiest lady on the planet. Books covered the walls up to the ceilings, lit by the large moon as it rose over the manor.

You stepped closer to the shelves, tickling the spines when you noticed that they weren’t just books. There were books on runes, books with fur, and books that were quietly whispering.

You picked up a shiny book, cracking it open. While nothing popped out, the book began shouting. You screamed and quickly slammed it shut, putting it back. Your heart beat out of your chest as you picked up another one, finding ice cold air blowing out of it as soon as you opened it. The third book you picked up had a plaid spine, and looked safe. The cover read, “Frankenstein's Monster: Did It Actually Happen?” You held it to your chest and sighed, breathing in the dusty, papery scent.

You could live here, and nobody would know. You could nestle in amongst the shelves, hiding in the hole until all the books were read. Feeling drunk and overwhelmingly happy, you sighed again, closing your eyes as you plopped down on the sofa.

“Do you like it?” Remus asked from the door.

“I think I’m in love,” you replied dreamily, turning to look at him. “Has anyone read all of ‘em?”

“James said his dad was working through them,” he said, sitting down on the sofa. He handed you the potion. “I think he got about halfway through before he gave up.”

“God,” you said, looking around. “I’d try to read ‘em all.” You smelled the potion, instantly recoiling with a gag. “‘M not drinkin’ this.”

“It just smells bad,” he said, an amused smile gracing his face. “Drink it and you’ll feel better.”

You sighed, grumbled, “Fine,” and downed the potion like a shot.

Remus lied to you. It tasted just as bad as it smelled, but it worked. You felt all the drunkenness leave you like it was being siphoned out of your body. You sat up straighter, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Better?” Remus asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Much,” you said, smiling as you looked at him. “Thank you.”

Despite not being drunk, you still felt the butterflies in your stomach as he matched your toothy grin, glancing at the book in your hands. “Are you going to steal that?” He teased.

“I’d like to,” you admitted, reading the first page to yourself. “It’s the first book that hasn’t done something.”

“I’m sure Fleamont wouldn’t care,” he said, his fingers dancing against yours as he took the book from you, pocketing it in his coat. “I can hold onto it for now. Until you leave, of course.”

“I suppose I should probably get back and say goodbye to everyone,” you said, standing and smoothing out your dress over your thighs. “The last bus leaves in an hour, and I still have to see Lily.”

Quietly, Remus nodded, standing alongside you. He offered you his arm again, and even though you weren't stumbling, you took his desperately, letting him lead you back out of the manor.

“Moon’s really big,” you said, looking up at the moon that shone orange in the sky. “Must be full.”

Remus winced, glancing at you to see if you noticed, finding you still staring. “There was a full harvest moon a few nights ago. If you look, you can see it waning.”

You narrowed your eyes trying to see what he was talking about. “Do you like the moon or something?”

“I-” He paused, catching you already looking up at him. “Sure.”

“I like the sun more,” you admitted, looking back at the moon. “The moon is fine, but without the sun, it’s just another dark rock.” You glanced at him to catch him staring at the moon, a grimace on his face.

Before you could say anything, a sharp squeal followed a flurry of red hair that was barreling toward you.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I thought you left already!” Lily shouted, picking you up and spinning you around. She held you at arms length. “Look at you!”

“I wouldn’t have left without saying anything to my favorite girl!” You beamed, taking in your Lily. “You... you look radiant.”

“Oh, pish,” Lily said, waving her hand in the air. She looked at Remus, who was still staring at the sky as if to give you and Lily your space. “Hi, space man,” she cooed at him, causing Remus to look at her, a tight smile on his face. She reached up, squishing his cheek between her fingers. “I’m stealing her from you.”

“Be my guest,” he said, pulling cigarettes out of his pocket. “I’ll be in there in a minute,” he said more to you than to Lily.

“That’s a nasty habit, Lupin,” Lily sighed like she had said it about a million times.

“Really? That’s funny,” he said, lighting a cigarette and holding out the pack to the three other men coming toward him. “Seems as though the other Potter likes it.”

You smiled as Lily pulled you away toward the tent, grumbling about James being irresponsible and how she was going to have to have a little chat with him later.

“Oh, you love him,” you cooed, and Lily sighed heavily.

“Very much so.” She turned the two of you around, gazing at the group of four boys all smoking and chatting away. “I mean look at him,” she mumbled to you. “I just want to hit that cigarette out of his hand and scream at him until my throat bleeds, but God, I just want to kiss him until he chokes, and I love him, and I just wish I could-”

While Lily continued to tell you about all the things she loved about her new husband, you couldn’t help but to look at Remus whose face was pulled in a genuine smile as James and Sirius began loudly talking about God knows what. The way he threw his head back as he laughed had your cheeks flushing, and this time, you couldn’t blame the wine.

“He’s cute,” you blurted, sensing Lily following your gaze.

“Remus?” She asked, and you confirmed with a short nod.

“He took me into the library,” you said, looking at Lily. “He’s got a book in his pocket for me.”

“Really…” She said, sounding far off as she continued looking at the group of boys. “It makes a lot of sense…”

“What does?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears watching the way she smiled, knowing she made eye contact with one of them.

“You and Remus,” she said, looking at you with the same smile. “You should give him your number.”

“Lily,” you groaned and she grabbed your arm, leaning in.

“He wouldn’t have looked over here at least four times if he didn’t want it,” she whispered, a fiery look in her eye when you began to protest with pink cheeks. “He lives in muggle London. He owns a phone.”

You huffed. “Fine.”

Lily’s smize turned giddy as she gave you a napkin, your number already written on it. “I’ve had this in my pocket since I saw you sitting next to him.”

“You’re a minx,” you hissed, taking the napkin. You checked your watch and sighed. “You planned this out so I couldn’t say no, didn’t you?”

The glint in Lily’s eye said it all as she threw her arms around you. “I’ll see you soon. I can come round your flat, and we can watch movies, and we can have a proper girl’s night, alright?”

You squeezed her tightly. “That sounds amazing, Lils. I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you!” She said, pulling away. A mischievous grin grew on her face as she pushed you forward. “Now go get ‘em, tiger!”

You stumbled forward, throwing Lily a scrunched nose over your shoulder. She met it with a thumbs up and a cheeky smile before James snuck up behind her, batting him away as he tried to kiss her.

You laughed to yourself, shaking your head. You could only hope to have a love like Lily and James one day.

The napkin in your hand grew increasingly damp the closer you got to Remus. He was still standing outside nursing a cider that one of his friends must’ve given him. You stepped outside of the tent, siding up to him.

“Hey, you!” Remus said, nudging you with his elbow. “Are you heading out?”

“I am!” You said, the napkin becoming damp in your hands. “Bus leaves soon, and I need to catch it before I’m stranded here.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the book from his pocket. “Here you are.”

You took it, smiling while you looked at it. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

The two of you became quiet, not knowing what to do next. A handshake would’ve been proper, you thought, considering you had just met him and he took you under his wing for the night.

You panicked and stuck out your napkin-filled hand without saying anything. He looked at you with furrowed brows then took your hand, the burning sensation filling you from the tips of your fingers straight to your chest.

“It was really nice to meet you, Remus,” you said, pulling away and leaving the napkin in his hand.

You turned around before he could say anything, head down as you walked quickly down the Manor drive, hoping the scorched feeling in your hands would never go away.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x muggle!fem!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin meet cute #remus lupin imagine #harvest moon

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fxchild · 10 months

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The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter one: Listening In

I jolted awake out of my bed after a nightmare. Ever since I got to the Fairchild estate I've been having small nightmares that grow each night. But tonight I reached the end of this reoccurring nightmare. I can't really explain what it means. I see myself running through the dark wood with something chasing me. I don't know what it is. I can't see it, but I can feel it. Breathing on my neck and whispering incoherent things. Every night for a month it has been me running in the woods to the estate, but every night I would wake before I reached it.

I decided to get ready for a day of work. The sun was blocked by clouds and something felt really off. The house had always had something creepy about it but today I had a feeling of being watched. I decided I would try and ignore it because it makes me sick to my stomach.

I dressed myself in a dark green sweater, a pair of jeans, and a pair of black sneakers. I left my hair down today because it was sort of chilly in the house. I wash my face and brush my teeth and while doing that I noticed the mirror was very foggy. I tried to wipe it with my sleeve but the condensation did not go away. Again I tried to ignore it because I did not want to get scared over nothing.

If I did not mention it before, I am a teacher to a 7 year old girl named Flora. I'm not sure why I took the job to teach her. I'm only 15, but was recommended by my teacher. I have to work twice as hard but don't have to physically be in school, which seems like a win-win to me. Flora is a very sweet and smart girl. She always uses her manners and doesn't question things. Ms. Grose, the house keeper on the other hand is snarky. She often makes comments about my teaching and appearance. Today she didn't make a comment to me while teaching, or in general. I hadn't finished my work and chores until 9pm and was dreading sleeping because I knew I would have the same nightmare, as I had every night.

At 10pm I got in bed and started reading a book. After a while I got distracted because there were heavy footsteps dragging around my floor. Assuming it was Ms. Grose, I tried my best to not go out and say anything for she is only an old lady. But after a half hour or so I started to get frustrated. "Stupid old hag and stupid old creepy house. Stupid nightmares, stupid woods. Stupid teachers for sending me to this shit hole. The only person I have is Flora, at least she's kind to me unlike that old lady." I whispered frustrated, now pacing around my room to tire me out. I look at the floor and see there is a shadow coming outside my door. Figuring it was Ms. Grose hoping to express her opinion about today I walked over to the door and opened it.

But it was definitely NOT Ms. Grose. Instead it was a boy, my age I assume with short black curly hair, pale skin, kind of lanky, and had a face that could kill you with eye contact.

"You know, this place isn't that bad, it just takes a little time to get used to it." He speaks. "W-who are you?" I jumped. "I'm Miles, I live here." He exclaims. "I'm sorry I don't know who you are." I say blandly. "I'm Flora's older brother, funny that you haven't heard of me." He says rather surprised. Then it hits me. Flora does sometimes talk about a boy that is off traveling around and comes home every three months for a little while. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm y/n, Flora's teacher." I say, reaching out my hand to shake his. He scoffs, "Aren't you a little young to be a teacher? You look my age." He spats. I try to think of something to say that won't come out as offensive but I can't. "You should get to bed, it's late and you have work tomorrow morning. Night." He says and walks away from my door. I quietly shut my door and got back into bed. "Who the hell does this guy think he is. I hope he leaves again soon." I say to myself as I finally fall asleep.

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Hey guys !! Thank you so much for reading this !! I should be uploading every other day hopefully ! Lmk if I should put this on Wattpad too !

Go follow my TikTok to get edits of the fic! @fxchild

#miles fairchild #the turning #fanfic #finn wolfhard #miles fairchild x reader #fxchild #the switch

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poetic-emptiness-fanfic · 7 months

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Like many of you might have guessed, I've become obsessed by Baldur's Gate 3. I've wanted to introduce my Tav for a while now, but I feel too burnt out to draw myself, and it took me time to figure out answers for some of the questions on this template.

May I present: Athenaia Winterbreaker

She is the firstborn of Dante and Horus Winterbreaker, and the big sister of Kairon Winterbreaker. Athenaia lives in Lower City of Baldur's Gate, upstairs of her work place, Green Haven. It's her own "enterprise", where she mostly offers healing services ("everyone gets treated, quality is the same for everyone" policy). She also sells healing potions and remedies, books about medicine and nature, plus the place acts as a café and a safe space where everyone, including urchins, beggars and homeless, are welcome.

Athenaia has lived very mundane (some might say "boring") life, trying to make the world even a little less shitty place to others, until she got abducted by a mind flayers, and was infected with their tadpole. Driven into this dire situation, she tries her best to use her skills to guide a party of fellow infected, find a cure, and get back to her family and friends.

This "bloody do-gooder", who also gets elected as the leader of the pack, alongside with her friend, Saga, leads with kindness, determination & democracy. She also may or may not end up in a "Pride and Prejudice" kind of situation with a certain Pale Elf she absolutely despises ("that arrogant snob", like Athenaia would call him at the beginning of the story). 😅

Note: Saga is the Tav of my irl friend, who also gets abducted by mindflayers, and a friend of Athenaia's since childhood

Ten facts:

Athenaia is biromantic demisexual

she plays flute, sings and draws well

Athenaia is a druid, who isn't devoted to a certain god, but to nature in general

lives in a city, but is an active member of a druid circle that operates in Baldur's Gate's nearby forests

knows how to fight, because Horus is a Manip at Flaming Fist, and has taught Athenaia

despite of living honestly, Athenaia is decent at lockpicking (Dante used to be a con artist who sold fake magical artefacts and whatnot, but nowadays leads an honest life as lock- and finesmith)

is exactly 1 year and 1 day older than her little brother, Kairon (a bard)

Athenaia is a sage, and hoards all the books she can find during her adventures

wants to adopt all the animals

keeper of the peace at the camp of "the Fellowship of the Brain Worms", but isn't afraid of backtalking to any of the members, hags, vampire lords or literal gods

#Baldur's Gate 3 #fan character #character introduction #Athenaia Winterbreaker #my writing #I just put this here

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dragonswithjetpacks · 8 months

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Ferelith Facts

Since I've revamped her a bit, here's some things:

Ferelith enjoys mushrooms and fungus. She knows many of the different species and which ones are poisonous, editable, and just for fun. On occasion, she has been known to eat a few and gaze at the stars.

She also enjoys things darker within nature. There is an appreciation she has developed by having a dark archfey patron.

One of Ferelith’s main insecurities surrounds her body type. She is small and thin with difficulty to gain muscle.

Ferelith struggles with true feelings of romance and love. Most of her interactions when it comes to affections revolves around manipulation from one side or the other.

Ferelith hates the word hag. Once she was falsely accused of being a hag, nearly resulting in her being beaten to death.

Ferelith smells like sage, lavender, and dead wood.

When it comes to robbing graves, Ferelith believes knowledge should be shared not hidden away to die. Loot falls under the same category.

Ferelith is weak in physical strength. And knows without magic, she would be an easy target. It is one of the reasons she clings tightly to her patron. So she can remain strong.

Ferelith is based off of Eva Green and Winona Ryder. Her face claim is Monica Bellucci.

Ferelith dislikes druids. Not for any personal reason of her own, but because of her patron who was trapped into a cursed book by a group of them.

When Ferelith uses powerful spells, the white in her eyes turn black.

Although not shown in Baldur’s Gate 3, in later levels in 5e campaigns, Ferelith will begin to sprout wooden antlers from her head due to the long term connection with her patron.

Ferelith is a wood elf. She had no connection to magic prior to becoming a warlock. In fact, her parents were a blacksmith and a tailor in a small village within the northern woods of the Sword Coast. Without her patron, she would absolutely have no power.

Ferelith was a name Fian gave her. It means “true sovereignity” in relation to giving her power to overcome the curse and find herself.

Ferelith’s true name is unknown. And will likely never be known.

Ferelith was once in a spicy love triangle with a mage that a had a huge library and an artifact smuggler who gave her gifts. She eventually left them both because she couldn't trust either of them.

Ferelith is called bookkeeper and transcribe because she works and lives in a bookshop in Baldur's Gate. The Eyes of the Rune Keeper (Fian's eyes) allow her to read any written language. She knows many different languages to translate to, but most choose common. She has helped many scholars restore ancient books. The store is VERY large and ran by an archmage who knows her secrets, but refuses to help or speak of it.

The archmage, an old woman, doesn't care about Ferelith's problems because she just needed someone to take care of the books. With Ferelith being gone, she is very grumpy.

Ferelith doesn't use weapons... and she never really has, besides the occasional dagger. She uses her eldritch blast and thorn whip for damage. More often than that, charm.

#ferelith #ferelith moonshade #bg3 oc

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faeryqueenwitch · 4 years

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🧚🎉Fairy Festivals🎉🧚

🎉 Fairy festivals take place at crossover points in the seasons. Equinoxes and solstices are determined by the position of the Sun, but the other four festivals are celebrated when the time feels right, so the dates given below are approximate.

🎉 There are other festivals too,such as Christmas Eve,Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day. Any human festival that touches on old traditions,from Ramadan to a Japanese Flower Festival, is a fairy feast. If you celebrate these festivals and make the effort to tune into what concerns the fairies, you will draw closer to their world. If you celebrate a special meal, remember to leave a little outside afterward for the fairies

1. 🌷 Imbolic - 🌷

February 2 in the Northern Hemisphere/July 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Imbolc means “in the belly,” and this is the time when life stirs in the belly of the earth. Frost sparkles and the pale light lingers each evening,bringing the message that spring is on the horizon. Imbolc is the delicate crossover point from winter’s depths into the New Year. It is a feast of lightness and brightness,but also a time of cleansing,to make way for the new. The Hag, who is Dark Goddess or Dark Fairy, gives way now to the Maiden, who is young and radiant.

Fairies love neatness and good housekeeping,so it is a good idea to have a late-winter sort-out,in preparation for fresh activity. While the fairies are busy coaxing snowdrops and crocuses out of the winter-hard earth,do something creative of your own,such as knitting,painting,or writing poetry. Ask the fairies to lend you a little of their magic by leaving them an offering,such as a piece of wool or a verse written just for them.

This feast is also called candlemas,sacred to St.Bridget,who was the successor to the pagan goddess Bride (pronounced “Breed”). Bride was the keeper of the sacred flame,which represents eternal life. She is the patroness of poetry,smithcraft,child birth, and healing, and is a very powerful fairy indeed. Invite her into your home by lighting as many candles as you like, in your windows and around your house. Ask her to bless your projects for the coming year,and pledge a special act of caring for the natural world in return,to seal your pact as the year waxes.

2. 🌼 Spring Equinox- 🌼

March 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/September 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

The fairies are very busy at the Spring Equinox,looking after all the flowers that are newly blooming.Scandinavian fairies become active now: the Russian cellar fairy,The Domoviyr,casts off its skin and grows a lighter one for summer; and the Russian Rusalki,or river fairies are glimpsed by lakes swollen with melted snow.

A tree planting project is a very fairy-friendly activity at this time. A seasonal blitz on the garden is also called for. While you are hard at work, digging and pulling away at dead winter twigs, it is easy to go into a kind of trance. This, coupled with the spell of the natural world around you,can create the perfect state of mind to catch a glimpse of fairies.You can be sure they are near you,helping you with their energies.Plant some seeds of your choice and, as you put them in the earth, close your eyes and make a special request for fairy help. Visualize the fairies tending your seeds,giving them their love and care. Ask out loud for the fairies to help you,and sing or hum and you plant. Touch the soft soil with your bare hands and make real contact with the earth.

Place water in a pottery or glass jug (plastic or metal is best avoided) and leave it out in the noon sunshine. Ask the fairies to bless it. Imagine them dancing around it and coming up to touch it with their glimmering fingers. Use the water to give your houseplants a special spring blessing.

The Green Man is a powerful nature spirit that has been sensed by many people. He is represented in numerous churches as the Foliate Mask (a face made up of leaves),and one theory about his presence is that the masons who fabricated him had hidden sympathies with the old nature- worship. He is making his appearance now on some new park benches and monuments. However, you can make contact with the real Green Man out alone walking through the woodland. Ancient and wise,he is watching you. Catch a glimpse of him behind tree trunks or in the lacework of budding branches. Hear his footfalls behind you as you walk. He is the very breath of Nature, and his strength is bursting forth in springtime.

3. 💐 Beltane - 💐

April 30 in the Northern Hemisphere/October 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Of all the festivals, Beltane is the most flagrantly joyful and sensuous as Nature is bursting forth with beauty and excitement. This was the Celtic beginning of summer, and also marked an important transition for the people of Fairy, for it was the time when the Milesian Celts landed on the shores of south-west Ireland. With this, the last of the magical peoples,the Tuatha de Danann, receded from the the world of humans into the Hollow Hills and became the people of the Sidhe.

However, they and the other fairy folk have not gone very far. You will find them dancing in a bluebell wood or skipping in the sunshine,sheltered by a greening hedge. Beltane is the time when good fairies reign supreme and bad fairies retreat. Fairies are very active now and may try to steal butter,or some of the ritual fire that used to be ignited on hilltops and is still lit by modern pagans.

This is the maypole season, but instead you can always dance around a friendly tree. Link hands with friends, and you may find yourselves spontaneously re-creating the kind of things people used to to do when seeing fairies was commonplace:lingering,walking,and talking, in the open air, away from television,computers,and other modern distractions.

There are many tales of beautiful fairies marrying mortals. Such tales usually end in tragedy, for fairy and human can never truly be joined. Better to borrow some of the fairy enchantment by performing a little magic of your own! Rise early on May Day and wash your face in the dew or simply walk in it. As the rhyme says: “The fairy maid who, the first of May Goes to the fields at break of day, And walk in dew from the hawthorn tree, Will ever handsome be.”

Welsh legend tells how the hero Pwll saw the Lady Rhiannon riding past him at Beltane and, after pursuing her, he eventually won her. Rhiannon is one aspect of the Fairy Queen,riding on her white horse between the worlds. As you sit quietly outside,on a bank in the late spring dusk,listen for the sounds of her horse’s hooves,and open your eyes to the shimmer of her sea-blue cloak. When Rhiannon touches your heart, she will fill it with love and inspiration.

4. 🌹 Midsummer - 🌹

June 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/December 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

This is one of the most magical times of the year, when fairies are very active and visible, playing pranks and even, it is said, stealing away the young and beautiful to join them in the Hollow Hills. The sun is now at the height of its strength and this is an important crossover point,such as the fairies love. For at the Midsummer Solstice the sun stands still, before beginning to recede as we move into the waning half of the year.

Flowers are colorful and luxuriant, and one radiant day seems to merge into another, as late dusk meets early dawn. At no time is the natural world more inviting. Take part in it by going on quests -long walks to sacred spots,evening camping out with the minimum of equipment,to draw close to the mystery that is all around, and to the Fair Folk in particular.

The rose is possibly the most sensuous bloom of all, and at midsummer it is often at its most gorgeous. Roses in the garden are especially likely to attract fairies. Distil water from rose petals and add it to your bath, asking the fairies to lend you some of their enchantment and to help you attract love. Brew tea from rosebuds and drink it,to increase your psychic powers.Plant a rose bush with a friend, to affirm the loving bound between you and invite the fairies into your life.

St.John’s wort is a herb known to break any negative fairy enchantment and drive away depression. Pluck some on Midsummer’s Day and carry it, to keep cheerful.

Look out for water nymphs by streams, or for undines for water elementals on the seashore- or for even the Lady of the Lake herself,rising from the luminous depths.In olden times, these beings were said to have no souls. It is closer to the truth to say that they do not have human morals. Conventions often conceal or feelings, but the beauty of the water fairies opens us to our unconscious tides; see them and let yourself be transformed.

5. 🌾Lammas- 🌾

July 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/February 2 in the Southern Hemisphere

Lammas is “Loaf Mass,” a christian version of a much older festival known as Lughnasadh, or the “Feast of Lugh.” Lugh was a Celtic god,lord of the Tuatha de Danann, and his name means “bright one.” Lughnasadh is a major fairy festival, and many fairies become active during this period,such as the Russian Polevik, who kicks sleepy harvesters awake. It is also a time when fairies move about in preparation for winter,and processions of them may be seen as a line of twinkling lights moving between the hills in the countryside.

At Lammas, the fields are golden with corn and splashed with red poppies. It is hazy,lazy time of holidays and abundance,but there is an underlying theme of death,for the Corn Spirit must be sacrificed in order to reap the harvest. If you walk out into a field of ripe wheat, you may sense the anger of the nature spirits as what is to be taken from the earth,even thought that is a part of the natural cycle of life.Gather up some ears of wheat and tie them into a bunch with red thread,to make a charm for the coming winter to hang over your hearth. At the same time,pledge an act of caring for the earth,such as clearing a derelict site in your neighborhood or garden, or planting and tending a herb, as payment for what you-and all of us- take from it.

At home, bake your own bread, using the rising of the dough as a spell to ensure that everything prospers in your life. While you are kneading the bread dough, say to yourself “As this dough swells, so may my fortunes increase.” Ask for your own personal Brownie, or house fairy, to come and help your bread rise- and remember to leave some breadcrumbs outside afterward,for the fairies.

Some say that Lugh is lord of the waning year, and his dance- through the waving,whispering corn- is a dance of death. If so, it is a reminder that all things come in cycles,and that everything is united in love and beauty. Stand at the edge of a sun-kissed wheat field and see the shimmer and sway that betrays the presence of Lugh. Take a few moments to feel respect for the earth in your heart, and understand the meaning of the Wheel of Life.

6. 🍁 Autumn Equinox (Mabon) - 🍁

September 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/March 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

At the Autumn Equinox, Nature stands poised between light and dark,but darkness is gaining. The veil between this world and the Otherworld is at its thinnest, and all manner of spirit visitations are more frequent now.

The hedgerows are beaded with berries,and mist lingers in the hollows. Sometimes the wind whistles in from nowhere and tosses baring branches. On other says, the mellow sun caresses the fields with slanting fingers. It is a time for reflection, but also for industry. In days gone by, preserves would be made for winter store and the help of the Good Folk would be sought by country people.

Absorb the atmosphere of the season by going blackberrying. In Celtic countries, there may be a taboo on eating blackberries, because these belong especially to fairies. However, as long as you gather them with respect and do not denude the bramble bushes, they will hardly object. Better still,leave out some of your homemade blackberry pie or wine for them,so that they will bless you. When this month ends, leave the blackberries alone and move on. Also look out for a bramble bush that forms an arch-so much the better if it faces east/west, for that mirrors the passage of the sun. Crawl through this three times on a sunny day to be healed of physical ills, especially rheumatism and skin troubles.

At this mysterious time, pay honor to Queen Mab. Her special gift is to bring dreams and visions to birth within us. She is really one of many manifestations of the Goddess, in her autumnal guise of wise-woman and Lady of Magic, and she is linked with ancient ideas of sovereignty- for the king drew his power from the land, and Mab presided.

Preferably at the Full Moon closest to the equinox,place good-quality wine in a stemmed glass or chalice,and take it into the garden or a secluded place.Raise the glass to the Moon,say, “Mab, I honor you”and pour some of the wine onto the earth. Drink a little and say, “Mab, I drink with you,” Then return home,light a bright-green candle beside your bed,gaze at the flame and say, “Mab,give me wisdom,” Place some jasmine or rose oil on your pillow,extinguish the candle-and drift into Fairyland. This is a little ritual that you can repeat during any Full Moon if you wish.

7. 🎃 Samhain - 🎃

October 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/April 30 in the Southern Hemisphere

Samhain means “summer’s end” and is pronounced “sa-wen.” This ancient Celtic festival at the official start of the winter was later Christianized as Halloween- a time when the dead were remembered. There was always a sinister aspect to Samhain,because certain sacrifices had to be made in order to survive the coming cold weather. Animals had to be slaughtered,and some say that human sacrifice took place to propitiate the spirits. Sacrifice,however, is a corruption of nature worship,for life is hard enough as it is and all we have to do is show respect.

Barrow mounds,shrouded in mist,are particularly eerie places at Samhain. Draw close,if you dare,and sit quietly.Do you hear the strange,far-off noise of fairy music,or the sound of knocking? Maybe the mound will open for you and unearthly light will stream over the barren fields.After Samhain,the earth is given over to the powers of darkness and decay.No crops or berries may be harvested after this time,because the Phooka, a malevolent Irish Fairy,blights them. The true meaning here,of course,is that death and decay have a place in the natural order,requiring due honor and respect lest they get out of hand.

Traditionally, this is the start of the story telling season. While the wind whistles around the eaves or the mist comes down outside,gather family or friends around your hearth- preferably with a real fire burning in it. If you do not have an open hearth,substitute a collection of large,burning candles. Sit round and speak of times gone by and people who have passed over to the other side.Ask the Beloved Dead to be present, if you wish(but note that this is not a seance,and the Beloved Dead are invited,not summoned). Laugh,share funny stories,feast,and drink.

Cerridwen is the Underworld Goddess and the Fairy Hag most associated with this time. In her magic cauldron,she stirs a brew that confers inspiration and transformation. Simmer up a hearty soup of root vegetables or pumpkin, to share with friends,then light a black candle and ask Cerridwen to guide you through the darkness into the light. You will be both safe and wise.

8. ❄️ Yule - ❄️

December 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/June 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

Yule is the Midwinter Solstice, when the sun again appears to stand still,as it did at midsummer,but the season is poised for the return of light. Celebrations of Christ’s birth were moved to coincide with the much more ancient solstice.

As you deck your Christmas tree,remember that the evergreen is a powerful symbol of the enduring life in Nature. Of course,is has a fairy on top of it,confirming that it is a festival of the Fair Folk,who also rejoice in the sun’s rebirth. Decorating your tree is an important magical act,for the decorations are fairy charms. Each member of the family should hang at least one special charm of their own,to enable a wish to come true.

Jack Frost is an active fairy in the cold weather,painting windows with intricate lacework. In Russia he is called Father Frost,the soul of winter,covering the trees in ice. Do not shrink from the frost fairy-go out and wonder at his works and he will reward you with hope and joy,just as in Russia Father Frost brings presents for the children on New Year’s Day.

By far the best-known and most powerful fairy at Yule is Father Christmas himself. Today we know him by his robes of red and white, but in the past he also wore green and other colors. As we have seen,red is the color both of life and death, and many fairies wear red caps. The hearty red of Father Christmas is a sign that he is an Otherworld being-very much alive,but not of this earth. He is recognized all over the world, as Kris Kringle in Germany and Pere Noel in France. In Brazil he is Papa Noel,and in China Dun Che Loa. He is the essence of Yuletide mystery,joy and renewal,and like many traditional fairies, he comes in and out via the hearth.

When all is quiet on Christmas Eve, get ready to welcome Father Christmas- light a candle and look at the stars. Pledge a gift for a friend and one for the world, and ask for a special gift to answer your heart’s desire. Write your wish on a piece of paper and “post” it up the chimney if you have an open fire. If not, burn it in the candle flame. Can you hear those sleigh bells?

(Art By: IrenHorrors On Deviantart -Link)

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inber · 4 years

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A/N: I am a bit sick today. That is the only excuse that I have for this nonsense.

In his mind's eye, Geralt recalled (with perfect clarity) instructing Jaskier to stay put at the campsite. There had been no mincing of words. There had been no gestures, or as Jaskier liked to call them, 'growly grunty groans'. Geralt had explicitly said, “stay here, bard.”

Being as Jaskier was indeed the only bard that Geralt was aware of within a large radius, there was no possible way his directions could have been misconstrued. Yet when the witcher returned to their small refuge just before dusk, exhausted from fighting a nasty hag, the fire was dwindling in the pit. Jaskier was nowhere within sight.

A large part of Geralt wanted to ignore this fact. He stoked the flames back up with fresh wood, subtly drawing breath in through his nose. It still smelled like Jaskier; foppishly exotic star-jasmine, and the eggs he had eaten for breakfast. Quite the combination.

“Bard?” Geralt called, loud as he dared, not wishing to draw unwanted attention to his location. He stilled, listening, and heard only the sounds of the nocturnal forest awakening, and the splash of a nearby brook.

It was hardly Geralt's problem, was it? He was not Jaskier's keeper. If the imbecile could not heed a simple command, then why should Geralt be forced to rescue him from his own hubris? For roughly three minutes, Geralt contented himself with that selfishness.

Alas, conscience got the better of him.

“Fuck it.” He hissed, stalking around the clearing. Deeper breaths, now, pinpointing Jaskier's last movements. Geralt paced from the cheerful warmth of the fire. Roughly fifty yards away from where their supplies were stockpiled, Geralt came across Jaskier's trousers.

They were unmistakably the same pair that Jaskier had put on that morning. Geralt remembered, because they were impractically silken; vividly aquamarine, threaded through with purple ribbon. Stupid things that now lay puddled by Geralt’s feet, as if Jaskier had leapt straight from them. Foolishly, Geralt tilted his head skyward, scanning the lush canopy.

His medallion grew ever-so slightly warm, settled in the hollow between his clavicles. Geralt snapped his attention back down to the clothing just in time to watch a chunky green frog scramble out from the material. The small creature was mottled with a shiny golden pattern that reminded Geralt of the ornate inlay on Filavandrel's lute.

It couldn't be. The hag was not that powerful, surely? But then again, Geralt was very resistant to magic.

“...Jaskier?” Geralt whispered, feeling daft.

The frog looked up at him with a big pair of vacant hazel eyes, and beeped.

“Are you fucking serious?” Geralt moaned. The frog clambered onto the toe of Geralt's boot. Its throat swelled dramatically, before it released a series of urgent little croaks.

What else was there for Geralt to do but pick the animal up and return to camp?

“You are so stupid,” Geralt said, a frown creasing his brow, “I told you not to move, and what do you do? Wander right into a fucking charm, or something.”

The frog blinked one eye at him.

“Don't wink at me.” Geralt scolded. He sat down, cradling the plump frog – Jaskier? For fuck's sake – in one large hand. After a moment, he reached for a skin of water, uncorking it with his teeth. Frogs drank through their skin, Geralt knew that, and he didn't want the moronic bard to become dehydrated. Carefully, he tipped a small amount into his palm.

Jaskier-the-frog perked up, looking grateful. Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Now we're going to have to deviate from the Path and find a mage. You are out of your tiny amphibian mind if you think I'm footing the bill for this, by the way.” Geralt huffed out a sigh, placing the wet Jaskier onto a leaf beside him, far enough from the fire that he would not dry out too quickly.

Another meep. The shape-shifted Jaskier stared at him. Geralt growled.

“What?” He said, “You got yourself into this, Jaskier. Don't fucking look at me like that.”

Squawk.

“You would say that.”

Jaskier shuffled on the leaf, curling his fat back legs. Just in time, Geralt caught him before he hopped. The tiny bard screamed in offence.

“Shut up! I don't want you fucking wandering off again, getting yourself double-cursed, or worse. Frogs get eaten all the time, did you know that? Do you want to get eaten by an owl?” Geralt cupped his hands, his lecture stern.

He thought that the frog looked slightly chagrined, which was the least Jaskier could offer. Geralt grunted, pillowing him close, not trusting him on the ground again. Absently, he thought about what he might have in his pack that a frog's digestive system could tolerate.

Jaskier licked his frog lips.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm thinking about dinner.”

Jaskier croaked, sticky tongue visible again.

Geralt was suddenly struck by a thought. There was a children's tale, wasn't there? One about a beautiful princess kissing a toad, thus breaking a spell. But it was a witless concept. Geralt was no pretty royal, and Jaskier was a damn tree frog. Besides that, there were stipulations. Love had to be involved, didn't it?

Beady eyes gazed unblinkingly at him. Geralt returned the stare, feeling too warm. He swallowed thickly.

“Don't... don't be stupid.” Geralt hissed, chancing a glance at Roach. She was standing, half-dozing. Thank goodness she wasn't witness to this particular low point. “I'm not going to kiss you.”

Jaskier chirped sadly in his palm, shaking droplets of water off one of his feet.

“It wouldn't work. No, a mage will fix this. We'll find one tomorrow.”

Even as a frog, Jaskier had the most heartbreakingly soulful eyes. Geralt curled his upper lip in a growl, but Jaskier kept begging. He could almost hear the bard's voice; “It's just a little smooch, Geralt. We are friends! Friendship is a kind of love! Besides, I've seen you put your mouth on way worse things than a frog. Do it already, would you? I’m all wet.”

“You... you owe me for this.” Geralt breathed, before he slowly began to lift Jaskier up to his mouth. Fuck. He was really going to do it.

“Gods above,” a voice interrupted the would-be passion, “I have good reason to believe that the dried venison is no longer edible, Geralt. Whew! Disgusting. Oh, ah, have you found a pet?”

Geralt froze up, staring at Jaskier – human Jaskier – who was clad in his smallclothes, carrying his trousers over one casual shoulder. He stared at the bard, and then at the frog, and then washed white-hot with a mixture of shame and fury.

“Where the fuck were you?” Geralt snapped, lowering his hands, desperately hoping Jaskier had not seen the pucker of his lips.

“Um, I just told you? Having a minor gastrointestinal crisis. Do not go over by the two boulders beside the river, incidentally. Urgh. Pass the water, would you?” Jaskier sat down, looking pale and sweaty. He glanced at the frog. “What's his name?”

“I—it's—a frog.” Geralt said, lamely. “Felt something magic about it.”

“Aw, you softie. Were you gonna kiss it and get yourself a beautiful princess?”

“No.” Geralt barked, a bit too quickly. “No, I was just... curious.”

The frog chose that exact moment to expel the contents of its stomach into Geralt's palm. The two men stared at the tiny glass vial it had brought up; within it swirled a minute dose of swallow, something Geralt had given Jaskier strictly for extreme emergencies only. With a contented croak, the frog leapt from Geralt's palm.

“Huh.” Jaskier tilted his head. “Little bastard stole my potion.”

Geralt let the wet vial drop to the ground. He stared in the direction the frog had departed. As Jaskier leaned closer to inspect the swallow, Geralt took great pleasure in wiping his slimy hands on the squeaking bard's leg.

A/N: My dear friend Merry wrote a sequel to this fic! You can read it here.

#the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #fortune writes #inber

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city-witch-magix · 3 years

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Celtic Deities

These are basic notes too look at as a beginning, there are only 10 deities from the website I used and I want to make sure my sources are good, so any feedback with corrections or additions you think I should add to it are greatly appreciated :)

Brighid, Hearth Goddess of Ireland

Daughter of Dagda

One of the classic triple Goddesses of the celtic pantheon

Many Pagans honor her as a goddess of the hearth and home, divination and prophecy

Often associated with with Imbolc, fire, domesticity, and family life

A patron of poets, bards, healers, and magicians.

Items for honoring/Symbols: green cloth that is long enough to wrap around your shoulders (if you put it on your doorstep on the night of Imbolc she will bless it), Brighid’s cross, a Bride’s Bed

Cailleach, Ruler of Winter

Known in parts as the hag, bringer of storms, the dark mother of the winter months

Features prominently in mythology as and is not just a destroyer but also a creator goddess

The name itself means “veiled one” or “old woman”

In some stories she’d appear to the hero as an old woman and when they were kind to her, she’d turn into a young woman and reward him for his good deeds

In other stories, she turns into a giant gray boulder at the end of winter and stays that way until Beltane when she comes back to life

Items for honoring/Symbols: wearing something blue, personal reserve, control, and truth with yourself, a yellow altar cloth in the morning for the sun and a blue candle in the center, a bowl of snow

Cernunnos, Wild God of the Forest

The horned God found in many traditions of modern Paganism and Wicca

Symbolizes fertility and masculine energy

Often celebrated around Beltane

Associated with the forest, the greening of the earth, and wild stags

The god of vegetation and trees, a god of lust and fertility when connected Pan, the Greek satyr

In some traditions he is seen as a god of death and dying and takes time to comfort the dead by singing to them on their way to the spirit world

Items for Honoring/Symbols: Take some wine, milk, or consecrated water in a chalice to the woods and pour it out while calling his name, decorate your altar with leaves, shed antlers, moss, fresh clean soil

Cerridwen, Keeper of the Cauldron

Known in Welsh mythology as the keeper of the Cauldron of the Underworld in which knowledge and inspiration is brewed

Considered the Goddess of prophetic powers and bc her symbol is the cauldron she is an honored goddess in many Pagan and Wiccan traditions

Her legend is heavy with transformation

Change and rebirth and transformations are all under her control

Items for honoring/Symbols: a cauldron,

The Daga, Father God of Ireland

Leader of the Tuatha de Danaan

A god of fertility and knowledge

Name means “the good god”

Possess a mighty club and a magical cauldron that has an endless supply of food

Typically portrayed as a plump man with a large phallus, represented as a god of abundance (my guy was packin, they said it was so big it would have to be dragged on the ground)

Items for Honoring/Symbols: a club, cauldron with home-grown veggies or fresh baked good, ladle, oat bannocks, porridge, ale, butter, symbols of abundance and bounty

Herne, God of the Wild Hunt

A god of vegetation, vine, and the wild hunt in British lore

Celebrated in the autumn months, when the deer go into their rut

Seen as a god of the common folk and typically only recognized around the Windsor Forest area of Berkshire

Was considered a divine hunter and was seen on his hunts with a great horn and a wooden bow riding a black horse with a pack of hounds

Mortals who got caught in his hunt would get taken and ride with him for eternity

Seen as a harbinger of bad omen, especially to the royal family

Items for Honoring/Symbols: call upon him when needed, might want to wokr with him when you need to right a wrong, cider, whiskey, or home brewed mead, a dish of prepared meat you hunted yourself, burn incense with dried leaves

Lugh, Master of Skills

Honored for his skills and gifts as a craftsman

God of blacksmiths, metal-workers, and artisans

Honored on August 1st as a harvest god

Associated with craftsmanship and skill (especially with creativity)

Not specifically a god of war, but is a known as a skilled warrior

Has amighty spear that is so bloodthirsty it’s tried to fight its own owner

Items for Honoring/Symbols: something you made yourself

The Morrighan, Goddess of War and Sovereignty

Associated with rightful kinship and the sovereignty of the land along with war

Often appears as a crow or raven or with a group of them

In some areas she’s connected to fertility and land

Items for Honoring/Symbols:

Rhiannon, Horse Goddess of Wales

Plays a crucial role in the kinship of Wales

Appears prominently in Welsh and Irish mythology

Items for Honoring/Symbols: horses, horseshoes, birds, the wind, the moon, on your altar have horse-related things (figures, etc), offerings of sweetgrass, hay, milk, or even music

Taliesin, Chief of the Bards

A documented historical figure but has managed to be elevated to a minor god

Known as the greatest poet of all time

Items for Honoring/Symbols:

Source: https://www.learnreligions.com/pagan-gods-and-goddesses-2561985 https://www.learnreligions.com/gods-of-the-celts-2561711 and any other links used for individual gods

#witch #witchcraft #intro to witchcraft #intro to paganism #wicca #baby witch #research on witchcraft #deities #celtic #celtic deities

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myth-lord · 3 years

Text

D&D Monster Madness

Aboleth Abyssal Maw Ahuizotl Air Elemental - Ragewind (Caller in Darkness / Voidwraith) Almiraj Ankheg - Kruthik ANT - Abyss Ant ARCHON - Lantern Archon - Hound Archon Arrowhawk - Steelwing Aurumvorax Axe Beak - Achaierai

Babau Balor Banderhobb Barlgura - Girallon (Yeti) Basidirond Basilisk - Dracolisk BEETLE - Water Beetle - Fire Beetle (Bombardier) - Siege Beetle Behir Beholder Belker - Phiuhl Black Dragon - Shadow Dragon Bladeling Blindheim Blink Dog - Cooshee Bloodthorn Blue Dragon Bodak Boneyard Brown Dragon Bulette Bullywug - Grung - Hezrou (Pod Demon)

Carbuncle Carrion Crawler - Ulgurstasta Catoblepas Cave Fisher - Avalancher Cave Moray Centaur - Armanite CENTIPEDE - Adaru - Remorhaz Chasme Chathrang Chimera Choker - Skulk Chuul Cloaker Clockroach (Clockwork Horror) Cloud Giant - Fog Giant Cockatrice - Pyrolisk Copper Dragon Coral Golem Couatl Crawling Claw Crimson Death Crysmal Crystal Dragon Crystal Ooze Cyclops

DARK TREE - Hangman Tree - Quickwood - Orcwort Darktentacles Deadly Dancer Death Knight Deepspawn Destrachan Deva - Erinyes DIRE BEAST - Dire Rat (Osquip) - Dire Bat (Mobat) - Dire Boar (Fhorge) Displacer Beast - Phane Doppelganger - Maurezhi Dragon Turtle DRAKE - Water Drake (Dimetrodon) - Fire Drake (Zezir) - Air Drake (Wyvern) - Earth Drake (Rock Reptile) Drow - Drider Dryad - Splinterwaif Duergar - Derro - Automaton Dunkleosteus Dust Digger - Silt Horror

Earth Elemental - Tomb Mote Eblis Eidolon Ethereal Defiler Ethereal Dreadnought Ethereal Filcher Ethereal Slayer Ethereal Stalker Ettercap - Vermin Lord Ettin

Faerie Dragon Fetch Feyr Fire Bat Fire Elemental - Fire Effigy Fire Giant Flesh Golem - Rotripper Fomorian - Plague Spewer - Eldritch Giant Froghemoth Frost Giant

Galeb Duhr Gargoyle Gas Spore - Ascomoid Gelatinous Cube Gelugon GENIE - Dao - Djinn - Efreet - Marid Ghaunadan GHOST - Poltergeist - Allip (Wraith) - Banshee Ghoul - Ghast (Witherstench) - Berbalang - Devourer Giant Dragonfly Gibbering Mouther - Argos Glabrezu Gloomwing Gnoll - Witherling - Marrashi - Flind Goblin - Nilbog - Spriggan - Gremlin (Quarrak) Gold Dragon Gorgon Gravorg Gray Render - Cadaver Collector Green Dragon Green Slime - Arcane Ooze - Alkilith Greenvise Grey Dragon Griffon

Hadozee HAG - Bog Hag - Bheur Hag - Night Hag Hamatula Harpy - Siren Hatori Hell Hound - Yeth Hound - Canoloth Hippocampus Hook Horror Hullathoin Hydra

Id Fiend Imp - Mephit - Quasit Intellect Devourer - Cerebrilith (Brain Collector) - Grell Iron Golem - Adamantine Golem - Juggernaut

Kelpie Kenku Kirin (Celestial Stag) Korred Krenshar - Carcass Eater Kyton

Lamia Lemure - Rutterkin Leprechaun Leucrotta Lich - Demilich - Skull Lord Lillend LIZARDFOLK - Drakkoth - Kobold - Pterrax - Salamander - Troglodyte LYCANTHROPE - Werebear (Firbolg) - Werefox (Kitsune) - Wereshark

Magmin - Magma Hurler Manticore - Jarilith Marilith - Spell Weaver Medusa Merman - Merrow Merregon - Barbazu Mimic - Trapper Mind Flayer - Ulitharid Minotaur - Goristro Mohrg Morkoth Mudman Mummy - Grisgol - Skirr Myconid - Phycomid

NAGA - Dark Naga - Water Naga Nereid Nightmare Nightwalker (Death Giant) Nothic - Shardsoul Slayer (Phthisic) Nuckelavee

Obliviax (Puppeteer) Oni Orc - Tulgar Osyluth Otyugh Owlbear

Paeliryon Peryton Phoenix Piercer - Roper POSSESSED OBJECT - Book of Vile Darkness - Carrionette (Soul Puppet) - Helmed Horror - Slithering Hoard - Trap Haunt - Xaver (Deathdrinker) PUDDING - Black Pudding - White Pudding Purple Dragon Purple Worm - Fiendwurm - Neothelid

Quickling

Rakshasa Ravid Red Dragon - Hellfire Wyrm Redcap Roc Rot Grubs Rust Monster

Sahuagin - Skulvyn Sandman - Skriaxit Satyr - Bulezau Scarecrow SCORPION - Hellstinger Shadow Demon Shadow Mastiff Shambling Mound - Tendriculos Shardmind Shocker Sibriex Silver Dragon - Mercury Dragon Simpathetic Skin Kite Solamith (Soul Eater) SNAIL - Balhannoth - Flail Snail - Metalmaster Solar - Angel of Decay Sphinx SPIDER - Phase Spider (Wraith Spider) - Aranea (Tomb Spider) - Darkweaver - Bebilith Sprite Steel Predator Stirge Stone Giant Su-Monster Succubus (Incubus) Swordwing

Tlincalli Treant - Saguaro Sentinel Troll

Umber Hulk Unicorn - Dusk Unicorn Uridezu

Vampire - Varrangoin Vargouille Vrock

WASP - Hellwasp Swarm - Quanlos (Advespa) Wastrilith Water Elemental - Caller from the Deeps Web Golem Wendigo White Dragon Wight - Boneclaw Will o Wisp - Trilloch Winter Wolf

Yellow Dragon (Sunwyrm) Yellow Musk Creeper - Twilight Bloom (corpse flower) Yrthak Yuan-Ti - Abomination

Zombie - Drowned - Dustblight - Entombed Zorbo

UNIQUE Demogorgon Juiblex Tiamat Bahamut Lolth Cryonax Imix Ogremoch Olhydra Yan-C-Bin Pazuzu Kraken Tarrasque Leviathan Eye Tyrant Elder Brain Zuggtmoy

UNDEAD: Shadow / Adherer / Coffer Corpse / Crypt Thing / Huecuva / Necrophidius / Penanggalan / Revenant / Death Slaad / Son of Kyuss / Blazing Bones / Flameskull / Sinister / Skuz / Dracolich / Nightwing / Nightcrawler / Gravecrawler / Charnel Hound / Vitreous Drinker / Atropal / Spectre / Skeleton / Giant Skeleton / Entropic Reaper / Famine Spirit / Wraith / Deadborn / Vampiric Mist /

FIEND: Nalfeshnee / Cornugon / Pit Fiend / Larva / Amnizu / Hellcat / Mezzoloth / Nycaloth / Arcanoloth / Charonaloth / Dergholoth / Hydroloth / Oinoloth / Piscoloth / Ultroloth / Yagnoloth / Demodand / Cambion / Abishai / Spinagon / Yochlol / Molydeus / Nightmare Beast / Wastrel / Jovoc / Zovvut / Advespa / Durzagon / Arrow Demon / Sorrowsworn / Deathdrinker / Whisper Demon / Evistro / Draudnu / Remmanon / Blood Fiend / Echinoloth / Dybbuk / Nabassu / Braxat / Death Dog / Howler / Soul Eater / Tanarukk / Skybleeder / Incubus / Barghest /

ABERRATION: Eyewing / Eye of the Deep / Giant Leech / Lurker Above / Giant Octopus / Giant Jellyfish / Giant Slug / Thought Eater / Xorn / Flumph / Thoqqua / Volt / Xill / Land Urchin / Burbur / Giant Sea Anemone / Giant Clam / Giant Sunstar / Fachan / Neogi / Giant Squid / Decapus / Darkmantle / Delver / Ethereal Marauder / Frost Worm / Grick / Avolakia / Odopi / Rot Reaver / Gorbel / Spectator / Slaad / Digester / Meenlock / Chaos Beast / Balhannoth / Masher / Vodyanoi / Uchuulon / Dharculus / Brain Collector /

HUMANOID: Hill Giant / Halfling / Hobgoblin / Weretiger / Yeti / Aarakocra / Babbler / Dark Creeper / Dark Stalker / Dire Corby / Dune Stalker / Mountain Giant / Gibberling / Grimlock / Meazel / Norker / Quaggoth / Formian / Verbeeg / Selkie / Thri-Kreen / Wemic / Dragonkin / Asabi / Werebat / Athach / Abeil / Death Giant / Lumi / Phoelarch / Storm Giant / Nightshade / Gith / Flind / Bugbear / Wereboar / Wererat / Werewolf / Ogre / Tabaxi / Skindancer / Pit Master / Shadar-Kai / Lizardman / Triton / Kuo-Toa / Nagpa /

OOZE: Ochre Jelly / Slithering Tracker / Stunjelly / Aballin / Flareater / Phasm / Bone Ooze / Flesh Jelly / Teratomorph / Conflagration Ooze / Corrupture / Graveyard Sludge / Brown Pudding / Gray Ooze /

BEAST: Ankylosaurus / Brachiosaurus / Ceratosaurus / Elasmosaurus / Mosasaurus / Pteranodon / Stegosaurus / Triceratops / Tyrannosaurus / Giant Eagle / Giant Eel / Giant Frog / Giant Gar / Giant Lamprey / Subterrean Lizard / Mammoth / Giant Otter / Giant Owl / Giant Sea Horse / Sea Serpent / Giant Constrictor / Giant Cobra / Giant Snapping Turtle / Giant Weasel / Giant Wolverine / Blood Hawk / Bonesnapper / Jaculi / Quipper / Rothe / Behemoth Hippo / Boobrie / Giant Catfish / Compsognathus / Deinonychus / Dimetrodon / Struthiomimus / Tanystropheus / Giant Raven / Verme / Megatherium / Cloud Ray / Quetzalcoatlus / Spinosaurus / Gambol / Moonrat / Guulvorg / Amphisbaena / Dire Bear / Dire Crocodile / Dire Elephant / Dire Shark / Dire Rhinoceros / Dire Stag / Dire Tiger / Dire Wolf / Worg / Muckdweller / Brain Mole / Ixitxachitl / Jackalwere / Pegasus / Sea Lion / Androsphinx / Hieracosphinx / Ice Toad / Bunyip / Disenchanter / Fire Snake / Kamadan / Mantari / Nonafel / Afanc / Baku / Boalisk / Kech / Ascallion / Frost Salamander / Kirre / Dragon Eel / Tojanida / Mudmaw / Rejkar / Zezir / Lodestone Marauder / Rylkar / Julajimus / Sand Hunter / Cranium Rat / Witherstench /

PLANT: Shrieker / Whipweed / Kampfult / Mandragora / Giant Sundew / Vegepygmy / Wolf-In-Sheeps-Clothing / Death’s Head Tree / Thorny / Phantom Fungus / Twig Blight / Dread Blossom Swarm / Night Twist / Burrow Root / Assassin Vine / Bloodsipper / Burnflower / Vine Horror / Tri-Flower Frond / Violet Fungus / Wood Woad / Battlebriar /

FEY: Brownie / Nixie / Nymph / Sylph / Atomie / Boggle / Green Hag / Grig / Hybsil / Frost Fairy / Lhiannan Shee / Ragewalker / Lunar Ravager / Banshrae / Frostwind Virago / Wild Hunt / Eladrin / Grimalkin / Sea Hag / Annis Hag / Kercpa / Skiurid / Pixie / Pech /

CONSTRUCT: Homonculus / Caryatid Column / Iron Cobra / Margoyle / Mongrel / Magic Golem / Bone Golem / Glass Golem / Shield Guardian / Hangman Golem / Merchurion / Clay Golem / Clockwork Horror / Dwarf Ancestor / Stone Golem / Emerald Golem / Retriever / Hellfire Engine /

DRAGON: Bronze Dragon / Dragonne / Pseudo-Dragon / Cloud Dragon / Mist Dragon / Linnorm / Gorynych / Tether Beast / Styx Dragon / Ambush Drake / Guardian Naga / Spirit Naga /

ELEMENTAL: Invisible Stalker / Water Weird / Azer / Mihstu / Ice Elemental / Lightning Elemental / Time Elemental / Energon / Earth Weird / Nishruu / Nyth / Orglash / Immoth / Tempest / Blackball / Breathdrinker / Chraal / Gulgar / Zaratan / Chaos Shard / Kapoacinth / Visilight /

VERMIN: Rhinoceros Beetle / Water Spider / Assassin Bug / Ant Lion / Death Watch Beetle / Slicer Beetle / Megapede / Giant Solifugid / Tenebrous Worm / Fyrefly / Bonespear / Sword Spider / Spider Eater / Spellgaunt / Brood Keeper / Chelicera / Harpoon Spider / Tomb Spider / Boring Beetle / Giant Ant / Giant Crab / Bristle Spider / Death Jumper / Snow Tarantula / Giant Tick / Bloodsilk Spider / Heart Tick / Carcass Crab / Giant Centipede / Giant Mantis / Giant Scorpion / Giant Spider / Wraith Spider / Giant Wasp /

CELESTIAL: Lammasu / Titan / Planetar / Swanmay / Trumpet Archon /

#long post #d&d #monsters

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justafewsmallsteps · 4 years

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Late for Halloween, but hey, it’s Inuvember. So here’s my annual contribution to my Witch AU, Now You’re Mine. Read part 1, part 2, and part 3 to understand (or you can just like the art?) This time we have exposition and angst. I appreciate any responses in the tags or comments.🥺Or any questions about this AU! Maybe I’ll even want to write more...

Now You’re Mine Pt. 4 Words: 2208 Rating: T for violence mention and blood

It was a long, slow night for them. After Kikyou disappeared, Kagome barely uttered out his name and traced his cheekbone before falling unconscious once again. Though she stopped bleeding so profusely, he still thought it was best to get her away from the ritual sight. The full moon had his blood running hot in his veins, but the immediate danger was gone. He was on high alert that night, listening for her heartbeat and feeling her pulse to stay calm and keep his transformation at bay. It was a miracle he hadn’t turned with the events that happened, but he was on edge the whole time, red flickering in and out of his vision. His heightened senses also had him feeling extra paranoid.

By the time the sun rose and his mind felt clearer, he resolved to get them back to Kaede’s place. Inuyasha treated Kagome gingerly as they slowly made their way back. She was in and out of consciousness and her waking varied from groggy calls out to him and sudden gasps. He kept reassuring her that he was there, that she was okay now, and that he’d get them back safely.

It was annoying to walk, and that was exacerbated by the ball weight dragging his leg. He still didn’t get why it’d suddenly become so heavy overnight, but he figured it was because Kagome was in such a bad state. He doubted she would have had the strength to fly them back even if she had her broom.

When they finally walked through the entrance, it was already past nightfall. Kaede saw Kagome’s pale face and limp body and flew into action. She brewed up a strong potion to get her feeling better. It was a deep green color, full of dried ingredients to make it extra potent as they rehydrated. Normally the smell of it would send Inuyasha right out of there and far away, but he found himself uneasy being too distant. For a while he fidgeted and did his best to bear it, but eventually it proved too much for his still sensitive nose to handle. He stood outside where the scent wasn’t so concentrated, but paced under the starlight to keep guard. He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. His mind swirled along with the dried up leaves being swept up by wind.

In the early morning, Kaede joins him in the front.

“Kagome slept through the night and she’s still asleep. The medicinal potion causes drowsiness. The human body works best when it rests. She’ll probably be waking soon, but she’ll have to take it easy for some time. She was drained of a lot of blood.”

Inuyasha gives a shrug to acknowledge her. He’s not sure what to say, but he feels a little relieved. He didn’t get a wink of sleep the past few days and it was starting to take a toll on him.

“Dark witches are tricky and aren’t afraid to use any spell to serve their purposes, even if they defy the Laws. Kagome’s been through a serious blood ritual, that much was clear, but she hasn’t been able to recall a lot of what happened, so you’ll have to give me more details, Inuyasha.”

He’s quiet. What happened? A lot more than he was ready for. Between the capture, Kikyou’s resurrection, and Kagome’s near death, he’s having a hard time processing it all. Let alone how it’d been the night of the full moon, so he’d been in a near-transformation haze. Kikyou’s ghost haunted him, and Kaede had reacted so strongly when news of her came up before. Of course she had, they were of the same clan. He now knows for sure that Kikyou didn’t just disappear the night she sealed him. She died before she ever got a chance to kill him. Now she was out there somewhere.

Her words echo in his skull. “Inuyasha, I will be back for you. I refuse to die until I end you. Remember that your life is mine.”

Sensing his hesitation, Kaede adds, “The more I know about the events that transpired, the better I can treat Kagome.”

He shuffles and sighs. “Kagome was captured by some crazy old bat called Urasue. That’s the one who ambushed her at the well. When I found her she was already bleeding out on the ground. The blood ritual was… to bring back another witch.”

“A Soul Trade,” Kaede confirms. “It’s a particularly complex spell, and one that requires many key factors. A dark spell that’s difficult to control.”

“But why Kagome? The old witch was after her specifically! She went through the trouble of kidnapping her right when she came out of the well.”

Kaede lets out a steady breath and lets it mingle with the cold before answering, “For a seasoned witch, it’s easy for us to sense the power potential in others. If you’re saying this Urasue could be a century old, then she fine tuned that sense long ago. Kagome’s magic is especially strong. Haven’t you wondered why a retired teacher like me would take her in so easily? To help her control it. Kagome’s magical aura makes her stand out. You should know. Even barely trained, she's able to do things most can never hope to master.”

“Like make me into her familiar.”

Kaede gives a solemn nod.

“So she was captured because she’s powerful?”

“Partly. It makes her easy to find.”

“Then why else?”

“Who was she used to resurrect, Inuyasha? I can only believe that she’d be necessary to revive another witch. One who shares her immense magic, and one who shares her blood.”

Inuyasha looks away and clenches his fist in his sleeves. It’s like denial. “Her blood… so Kagome is Kikyou’s blood after all.”

“You’ve always known Inuyasha. You said she could be mistaken for her.”

He doesn’t like the thought. “That’s why she could free me then too, right? Kikyou put the spell on me, and Kagome could undo it because they share a bloodline.” His ears droop slightly, and his eyes seem to glaze over a little in thought.

Kaede studies him, her good eye fixes on the chain at his ankle. He’d been dragging it when he entered and exited earlier, the weight leaving heavier trails than before. “Perhaps, but ‘undo’ isn’t the right word. Replace.”

Inuyasha scoffs, but his demeanor turns serious. “When I dragged Kagome out of the spell circle it started to reverse the ritual. Kikyou started bleeding out instead, but then she escaped using Urasue’s broom. I don’t know where she went, but Kikyou’s out there somewhere. It’s why Kagome feels this bad still, I’m sure of it. ”

“So Kikyou is stuck in the middle now.”

“In the middle?”

“An undead. It’s a rare phenomenon, especially for a good witch. There are those who specialize in animating the dead—like puppeteers toying with creatures, but to resurrect life requires a much stronger power. Imagine the strength it takes for a witch to resist a ritual so insidious.” She pauses, “Or the strength it takes to survive it.”

“Is Kagome going to be alright?” His tail swishes anxiously behind him.

“I told you she’s stronger than most.”

“But… what about Kikyou? Does she need Kagome to live? Is she going to come after her to complete the ritual?”

“Kikyou is also stronger than most, maybe the strongest to have lived. She was The Keeper of the Grimoire for a long time. She must have absorbed some of its powers when she locked it away. It’s possible she will turn to it now. For better or worse, I believe she’ll find a way to survive like this.”

“That’s what the hag was after. The Grimoire, just like before.”

Kaede wonders to herself what he means by “before,” but chooses to hold her tongue about it. Whatever secrets Inuyasha has about his past are his own.

“It’s a legend to most witches. A beacon for those who seek power. It holds dark, ancient secrets. Powerful spells that bend Laws instead of breaking them. Kikyou was rumored as the last witch to know its location and be able to access it, so it makes sense that Urasue would attempt to use her to find it, but foolish to think she could control her.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with frustration, the image of Urasue’s head being sliced clean off flashes through his mind. He swallows. “She’s… definitely something.”

“I have a feeling Kagome has the same potential to reach similar heights.”

“But she wouldn’t hurt a fly!” His ears droop. “She’ll have to learn how to protect herself though…” They can’t afford for this to happen again.

It’s that kind of concern he takes for his witch that warms Kaede’s heart and makes her believe that their relationship is more than it seems. Much as Inuyasha complains, there’s a genuine softness with which he treats her. “If you stay by Kagome’s side I’m sure she’ll be well guarded as I continue on her training. You being near her will give her strength, you share it with one another. That’s part of the familiar bond.”

It’s a clear invitation for him to go inside and see her, but he doesn’t know what to do. Part of him wants to check in on her, but another part feels weird about it. He can’t shake the feeling that he has to stay alert. As if on cue, he hears a small muffle from inside the room and his ears stand on alert. He stands up immediately on instinct, his chain making a light noise at the movement.

Kaede looks up and motions to stop him before he can push aside the screen. “I should warn you about the repercussions of stopping the ritual, Inuyasha.” Her tone is hushed.

He raises his brow.

“A Soul Trade links the sacrifice and the resurrected for a short time. It’s like a transfer between the two. It’s possible that because of the ritual, Kagome and Kikyou shared certain things. Emotions. Knowledge.”

His eyes go wide for a second and he holds his breath.

“Memories.”

Inuyasha presses his lips together and stands there for a moment, mind suddenly filling with new thoughts. What had Kagome learned from Kikyou? Did she hate him now too? There was no way, but then again, she’d basically been passed out the whole time. What could she have seen? He suddenly feels like running away, but he’s frozen.

Then the muffled sound repeats, and he hears his name. Everything in his mind shouts at him, Go to her! The familiar bond is pulsing through his head. Ultimately it’s her though, fragile and searching that moves him into action.

He lets his lungs empty and sucks in another breath, the cold sting of it filling his chest and reminding him of the night she freed him. When he felt his heartbeat for the first time in decades. He pushes the door aside and enters quickly, careful not to let too much chill inside.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome calls as soon as he’s in the room.

The scent of her blood has faded, but it’s still there staining her clothes, and it bothers Inuyasha a lot. Still, he wants to know she’s okay.

“I’m here, Kagome,” he assures her as he did their walk home. “Are you alright?”

She smiles and weakly nods at him, and knots in his stomach unravel just a little. She had a way of untangling him from dark places. “Stay by me?” she requests, holding a shaky hand towards him. He flashbacks to her limp hand stuck in the pentagram, to her reaching out to protect him. Of course she didn’t hate him.

The relief swells in his chest, but he doesn’t want it to make a big deal out of nothing. Instead of saying anything, he huffs out a breath to sound bothered and sits by her, the ball annoyingly dragging against the ground on his way. Instead of taking her hand, he checks it for her pulse.

“You need something?”

Kagome blinks, her eyebrows knitting in what Inuyasha can assume is either dizziness or pain. She makes a move to study him, trying to focus on his face. She swore he looked different last night. Red eyes and jagged marks on his cheeks. She reaches out to touch him, but he pulls away and stands up.

He’s relieved she’s alright, but suddenly afraid of her questions. “You’ve been out all night since Kaede gave you that potion. I’ll get you water. You just rest up.” Kaede’s warning is stuck in his mind like tar. There are things Kagome could know now, and he doesn’t want to deal with it.

Behind him the ball drags on the floor, catching Kagome’s attention again. Visions from the other night flicker in her mind, but they’re vague and fleeting. Some of them seem familiar, and other thoughts feel like she’s someone else. Her head aches to think about them, but her heart reacts with a different kind of pain. She frowns and watches him leave, tucking her hand back to her chest. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with longing, feeling small and pathetic as he walks away.

Why couldn’t he just stay by her side?

#inuyasha #inukag #kagome higurashi #inuvember #inuvember 2020 #jelly art #witch au #justafewsmallsteps #jelly fic #now you’re mine

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brokenjardaantech · 3 years

Text

absorbance of the deep (chapter 1: first contact)

written for a mermay prompts challenge. my prompt is ‘monochromatic.’

rated: M

relationships: simarkus, simon & josh & north, simon & daniel as twins

summary:

simon was the quiet son of a lighthouse keeper in a small seaside village. his other half was the sea. no one knew exactly what was happening, but he had his friends, he had his twin brother, he had the ocean - and to him, that was enough.

also on ao3

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It started long before Simon was aware of his connection with the sea.

Back then, he was still loved by his parents. Back then, he was still blissfully unaware of how different he was from other people.

Back then, someone still cared when he went missing.

He of course had no recollection of the incident himself, being a baby when it happened, and all he knew came from his twin brother’s retelling of the event which he had learnt from their parents who decided that Simon’s lack of speech meant that he didn’t understand words at all even though he spent most of his time at home doing his own work or reading books reserved for people older than him. ‘Hag put us on the goddamned floor,’ Simon remembered the quiet fury of his twin brother as he paced in their shared bedroom. ‘God knows why she would do that. You could barely crawl, and either she forgot to fucking close the door or you somehow managed to open the fucking thing on your own, the next thing she saw after finally finishing cooking lunch was that there was only me, the door to the pier was open, and you were gone. They thought you were gone for good.’

Simon remembered turning his gaze towards the small stack of paper he was holding and rubbing the corner of. It was a copy of the newspaper article from the day he was found on the beach completely soaked in saltwater but very alive, one that took over most of the pages of the large sheet of inked newsprint they call the local newspaper found in the library and therefore required a few sheets of normal paper to photocopy the entire thing double-sided. Little Simon rescued from the beach! was printed at the very top below the name of the newspaper, and the article documented not only the facts - despite the sensationalised title - but also included a lot of interviews of the search and rescue team which seemed to care a lot about his survival and whereabouts, most of which Daniel and North firmly believed to be no more than a show. Simon believed them because he was never a good judge of people’s intentions.

‘Half of the town thought you were really dead, the other half kept searching just for you to be washed up the beach in the middle of the fucking night and being discovered only the morning after,’ Daniel continued talking and pacing, and Simon had to look away because the movement was making him dizzy. ‘The rest you can find in the article. I’m not gonna waste my time reading aloud.’

Simon grabbed the worn dictionary, flipping to the pages with the words he wanted to convey and pointing his finger at them. but - how - about - dad - and - mum?

‘No fucking idea. Dad said Mum was hysterical.’

The rest Simon forgot because he was tired and he hadn’t been paying attention, and he supposed that it didn’t matter anyway because they stopped caring when he grew up from the easy, quiet baby to the too-quiet toddler who wouldn’t play with other children and scratched his own arms when things became too much. At first, the other children he went to school with left him alone with his sticks and stones which he assembled into shapes resembling the marine animals he remembered from the worn picture books in the kindergarten’s library. He didn’t necessarily understand the words, but the pictures were soft, the fishies were cute, the soft edge of the cardboard felt good in his hands, and they reminded him of a home he yearned for but never had, his obsession with the ocean starting when he was young. It was during these quiet times that another boy of his age approached him.

‘What are you doing?’ the other boy asked. He was dragging a bag filled with books behind him.

Simon flipped his own book open until he found the page of the octopus he was trying to recreate with his collection of seashells that he found on the beach and a few sticks he found on the dirt in the garden behind the kindergarten, pointing first at the specific octopus he was assembling (there were five of them, he counted), then at the imitation on the ground. He hoped the other boy understood what he meant. He wouldn’t want him to scream in his ear and make them hurt just like the others. For some reason, they thought it would help him hear them better while in fact it was doing the exact opposite. He could hear them well enough; he just didn’t want to speak.

‘Are you building the octopus?’

Simon nodded.

‘May I watch you?’

Another nod, and the two of them sat on the same piece of log as Simon bent down once more to rummage in his collection of pebbles and seashells to complete his octopus, this time with an audience consisting of one single boy already a bit taller than himself. Halfway through the recreation, his companion retrieved a book, one with the same thickness but thinner pages and much more words, but Simon, engrossed in his project, didn’t seem to notice at all, having been sucked into his own world and become completely oblivious to his surroundings, and he only straightened himself as much as his uncooperative limbs could after the octopus was complete. Josh noticed it and put down his book just to be swatted by Simon’s flailing hand that felt like, ‘Look at my work.’

And to two boys, it was a work of art. With dirt as his canvas and random pebbles and sticks and leaves and seashells as his palette, Simon somehow manages to fit them together into a puzzle more detailed than the drawing he based it on, the different colours of nature somehow managing to form a harmonious combination of browns and whites and oranges and green. ‘It’s pretty,’ Josh commented. ‘I like it.’

Simon’s face blushed pink. Tilting his head to one side, he seemed to study his artwork intently for a few seconds before struggling with the zippers of his backpack as if he wanted to open them, and when it was evident that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish the task himself, Josh offered to help him, and he unzipped it quickly just for Simon to snatch the bag back and scoop every single piece of nature he used to construct the octopus with inside.

‘What are you doing?’ Josh was shocked, but still he zipped up the bag because he didn’t want the contents to spill out. He would be sad if one of the seashells got lost.

Simon hopped off the log he was sitting on and dragged the backpack behind him instead of putting it on. A few steps towards the other side of the park, and then he turned around, beckoned the other boy to follow him with a wave of his hand, his blue eyes still glued onto the ground.

‘Where are you going?’

Simon pointed towards a familiar direction.

‘You’re going to the beach?’

A nod.

‘Okay. Let me pack up.’

By ‘pack up,’ he meant carefully placing his book in his bag, and soon the two boys were dragging their respective bags behind them on the road as they walked to the beach on foot unsupervised by any adults. The sky was a greyish white, the wind was strong from the upcoming rain, the sound of the sea lapping the shore was particularly loud from the silence of the village and the strength of the waves, but all the signs indicating a worsening weather were ignored, Simon determined to go to the beach and Josh too curious to back down from accompanying his potential new friend. Walking was easier when the ground underneath their feet finally changed from asphalt to soft sand, and their tiny footsteps were erased by twin tracks their bags left behind. Simon sat down abruptly just before they reached the line where dry sand gave away to wet.

‘What are you doing?’ Josh asked even though he was already sitting down.

Simon merely pushed his backpack towards the other boy. It took him a few seconds to interpret the action, but Josh got it quickly enough and unzipped the back for him. Simon then poured the contents onto the dry sand, casually shoving the bag to one side and then started reconstructing the octopus once more, and Josh was confused; if the boy wanted to make it on the beach, why didn’t he do it here directly? Why practise in the park first? But he also knew that he probably wouldn’t get an answer from the other boy so he watched the octopus materialise piece by piece instead.

Until he noticed something strange about the ocean.

See, even though they were literal children, they grew up with the sea in their view at all times, and they knew its personality and temper well. When to avoid the shore, when to avoid going out altogether, when to prepare for the worst - they learnt to watch for the subtle signs and act accordingly. But nothing, not from parents, not from school teachers, not even from teenage babysitters, could have prepared Josh for the sight of the sea lapping higher and higher around them while the sand within their ten-foot radius stayed dry as if there was an invisible dome surrounding the two of them. He turned inland and saw the tide converging in front of him, the space around his bookbag staying dry on its own, and he sought out the other boy because he was horrified, he didn’t understand. The wind was picking up. If they didn’t go now, the sea would swallow them.

‘We have to go!’ he says. ‘I don’t know what’s happening, but if we don’t, we’ll die!’

Simon continued to piece the octopus together on still-dry sand while being completely oblivious to his worsening surroundings. He didn’t seem to hear Josh at all.

‘C’mon!’ Josh tugged on Simon’s arm and received an impatient smack. ‘We need to go!’

Do not disturb him, human. Leave the devout alone.

The voice, deep and all-compassing and earth-rumbling, was as shapeless as the shrinking dry circle around them, and Josh didn’t understand, wasn’t sure if he wanted to understand. All he wanted to do now was run, but his way back was already blocked, the tide having crept up to them while the boy was trying to convince his companion to go with him, and now it was so far up that it would be impossible to escape unless he threaded through ankle-deep water. His books would be ruined.

I can provide a safe path out. But do not look back, human, or accept the consequences.

Those would’ve been big words for normal children, but Josh wasn’t normal, having read through the entire kindergarten’s library and had started inhaling the books in the small public library they had, and words were at least something he understood well; one moment he was surrounded by dark waters, and the other there was a path directing him to his bag of books and up the beach to the road, to safety, and he didn’t hesitate to run towards his bag and dragged it up the beach until he was running up the hill, the sound little feet hitting asphalt overwhelmed by the howling wind and raging sea. He spared a look back and discovered that his companion was gone, most of the beach having been swallowed by the rapidly-rising sea level.

He abandoned his new friend and he didn’t even know his name.

Horrified by his own actions, tears rolled down his cheeks as he slowed down his normal walking speed and went back to the kindergarten on foot where his teachers were waiting at the door. ‘Josh!’ one of them rushed forward and wrapped his arms around him. ‘Where were you?’

‘At - at the beach,’ he sobbed. ‘There - there was this boy with me and he’s gone!’

‘Another boy?’ a crackle of thunder, and their conversation was interrupted by a crackle of thunder. They hadn’t even noticed the streak of lightning tearing through the clouds because it was still bright, the clouds were not heavy enough to form anything other than a light rain, but it wasn’t like they cared about the inconsistencies between this rainfall and what they normally experienced anymore; all that mattered right now was that the weather was worsening, there was a child missing, and said child’s twin brother was currently -

‘WHERE IS SIMON?’ Daniel came blundering through before any teachers could grab him and clamped his tiny hands on Josh’s shoulders. ‘I’m asking you: where is Simon?’

Simon? Was it the boy’s name? Josh couldn’t think clearly. He left Simon to die. He was sorry.

‘He was at the beach,’ he didn’t know why he wasn’t screaming like the others, but as the first bucket of rain poured down the sky, he could imagine the waves sweeping Simon away, dragging him into the deep alongside the octopus he spent so much effort creating, all evidence of his existence gone, gone, gone -

‘The sea took him.’

o0o0o

In reality, young Simon was doing much better than he thought; in fact, the place he ended up with was so good that he didn’t even want to go back on land, let alone with the civilisation living on it at large, the experience edged into his mind so vividly that he can revisit it whenever he wants to even in adulthood as long as he closed his eyes. With Josh gone, he and the ocean could finally be alone with each other, and he let the waves cover him, an invisible barrier protecting him from the cold water and preserving enough air to keep him alive. He blinked, tilted his head to one side while the wave on top of his creation seemed to hesitate to touch it, holding his breath as the ocean judged him.

Don’t worry. Everything you made that doesn’t hurt us, I like.

He didn’t know what it meant back then, his mind too young to comprehend a promise as solemn as that, and neither did he know who ‘I’ was and whom ‘us’ was referring to, but looking back, it was part sincere reassurance and part lifelong vow despite, and now that he knows everything, he was glad that his love started early; it made growing up less lonely and terrifying; and despite his lack of understanding, he was immediately soothed, and he felt himself relax on the pocket of dry sand, clutching his open backpack and caressing the fabric because he thought it felt pleasant to his fingers.

I’ll give you something even better.

At last, his octopus was swept away by the waves, his offering accepted by the other half of himself that he didn’t even know existed back then, and there was no fear in his heart when the ocean enveloped him, surrounded him, carried him to the depths where everything was blue because no other colour could reach that deep. He found himself liking the colour; it wasn’t complicated like the kaleidoscope of life on land, it didn’t send needles into his eyes like the sharp reds and oranges the fishermen used to paint their boats so that they could be visible when they were out at sea, it wasn’t complicated like the subtle blue of the sky when it wasn’t covered by the clouds. This was raw, simple, the only wavelength that the ocean allowed to reach him among all others, so it must be the colour of protection as well.

He didn’t know all of these, back then, but these are some of the conclusions Simon arrived at after years of sharing his life with the ocean. What he did know was that the deep blue was a pleasant colour, one that calmed him down so much that he wanted to go to sleep right there on the soft sand of the seabed.

Sleep well, starlight.

Unbeknownst to him, his other half was still wide awake protecting his land-dwelling counterpart. The current changed to maintain the temperature of the tiny body at the bottom of the sea, the sea animals were instructed to stay off course so as to not disturb his slumber, and the earth also slowed down in case the pressure would become too much and frighten the fragile heart of a human child. It also got to work, finishing millions of years worth of progress in mere hours to create a safe haven for Simon, and he was carried there so gently that not once did he stir while he rode the waves without him knowing, and when he woke up, he was lying on a bed of soft but dry moss located in a cave of stone walls and soft sand. His parents and his twin weren’t there to urge him to wake up so he basked in the warmth that seemed to radiate from the pale sand as he listened to the sound of running water nearby. He would discover upon his second visit to the cave that it was the murmurs of an underwater stream feeding a hot spring near the end of the cave.

Time to get back, starlight.

He wasn’t in the position to judge or protest so he let the sea carry him back to his home on the surface. He couldn’t quite swim in the ocean yet and had a tendency to walk back into the water no matter how much inland the waves placed him; eventually they settled on putting him back on the pier outside his parents’ house/lighthouse, and although it was too close to the surface civilisation for their liking, it at least kept young Simon out of the water at last because he remembered jumping off the pier on his own and then landing into the water with his stomach first and the pain wasn’t something he would want to repeat. It was dark still when he was sent back to the surface and he didn’t want to be away from the sea yet, so with his tiny feet dangling off the side of the pier, he lay on the wood for hours watching the stars twinkle in sync with the dark waters kissing the beach glowing silvery in the moonlight, and then having to close his eyes as the sun painted the horizon a fiery orange and the clouds a deep purple. The sea stayed the same, however, the greyish-blue waves too choppy to glisten under the sunlight. The wind picked up as the land absorbed the energy from the sun and started heating the air, and that was how his parents found him: unconscious at the edge of the pier behind their house, a soft breeze smelling of the ocean feeding the fire burning what remained of his mind away.

#simarkus #dbh simon #dbh josh #dbh daniel #dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human

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geminilily · 3 years

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The Goddess is the universal Mother. She is the source of fertility, endless wisdom, and comfort. Wiccans revere Her as the giver of fertility, love, and abundance, though they acknowledge Her darker side as well. We see Her in the moon, the soundless sea, and in the green growth of the first spring. She is the embodiment of fertility and love.

As the Triple Goddess she is represented by three aspects: the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. The aspects each represent a different phase of life; the Maiden correlates with youth and puberty, the Mother with parenthood and maturity, and the Crone with old age and wisdom. Each aspect is then symbolized by a different phase of the moon, Maiden: Waxing, Mother: Full, and Crone: Waning & New. The phases represent the ever-shifting process of life unto death and then rebirth. She is the beginning and ending and everything in between.

The Number Three

The number three has often been a sacred number. It is still found in many sayings, such as, “all luck comes in threes,” or “a dream dreamed three times comes true.” Folktales often have three fairy godmothers or three wishes or three chances. It is also said by scientists that we live in the third dimension, the material world. Many ancient civilizations considered three to be a secret and lucky number. It symbolized birth, life, and death; the beginning, the middle, and the end; childhood, adulthood, and old age; body, mind, and spirit. Today, most schools of spiritual illumination have three steps or degrees. This can be found in the Masonic Lodge (Apprentice, Fellow-craft, Master) and most Wiccan covens or schools have three degrees. In numerology, the number three is the number of activity, creativity, talent, and knowledge.

The First Aspect: The Maiden

Sometimes called the Virgin or the Huntress, the Maiden represents the spring of the year and fresh beginning of all things. The Maiden is the continuation of all life, the repeating and endless cycle of birth and rebirth, of the body and of the spirit. She is the dawn, eternal youth, and she is enchantment and seduction. She is ripe with potential energy, vitality, wisdom, and spiritual growth. A lump of clay that has yet to be molded. She is represented in the lunar cycle by the Waxing Moon. The Maiden’s traditional color is white, indicating newness and innocence. She invites us to believe that future possibilities are infinite. She can be valuable when we need a fresh perspective on things. When we feel directionless she can be the creator of new ideas and new beginnings.

The Maiden is free with her feelings and emotions, often expressing herself in sudden decisions. She is empathetic to all creatures. She is independent, Her own person. No one owns or rules Her. She is responsible for Herself and Her actions. She knows who She is and dreams of the potential of what She can become. Vital to human happiness and growth is the Maiden’s determination to be Her individual self and all that She is capable of.

The Maiden is the Way-Shower in spiritual growth. She leads us down the spiritual path and urges us to combat our fears and hesitations. Through Her we learn to see the simple beauty and great wonder in the world. We remember how to imagine, which opens infinite doors in magick, particularly those of manifestation and astral projection. Without the ability to forget all the world has taught us we cannot do and look at the world with wide perspectives there remains a block on our ability to spiritually advance. In linear thought, in order to go forward, one must go back. In cyclical thinking one must always continue forward to reach the beginning again, however, in fluid thought, one can experience all aspects at once.

The Second Aspect: The Mother

The Mother aspect of the Goddess represents the summer, blazing noon, reproduction and fertility, and the high points in all cycles. She is in the ripeness of womanhood. This aspect is the one of ultimate and active creation. She is the great teacher of the Mysteries. The boiling or churning cauldron is Her symbol and She is represented in the night sky by the Full Moon. The Mother’s traditional color is red, the color of blood and the life force.

The Goddess as Mother seems naturally more accessible, because physical mothers tend to be closer to their children than fathers are. In the old days, there were no DNA tests, so a man could never truly be sure of fatherhood, but one could not deny a mother.

In the cycle of life, the Mother is associated with the stage of adulthood. Adulthood means accepting responsibilities, particularly those brought about by Her own actions. Acknowledging the results of our own decisions is one of the greatest responsibilities every individual, and humankind as a whole, has. By recognizing the Mother aspect of the Goddess we learn valuable lessons in self-discipline and patience as well.

The Goddess as Mother does not want Her creations to abuse themselves in anyway. Mistreating our bodies, whether by drugs and alcohol, or unsafe sex, or excessive food, or life threatening situations, it is against Her will. Mistreating our minds through negative self talk and staying in abusive situations are also not within Her desires. The Mother is balance and happiness, and enthusiasm for life.

It is through this aspect that we discover ourselves and our potentials; we learn to take responsibility for our actions. We learn to reach outward and inward, loving and receiving love. It is during this stage that we need to understand that every act of love is a ritual to the Mother Goddess, be it physical, mental, or spiritual. Love extends beyond the physical sexual act, encompassing acts of kindness and spiritual love. The Mother’s directive is, “To be loved truly, one must know how to love truly.”

The Mother is the great nurturer, Her love is unconditional, yet as with physical mothers, She disciplines when necessary. The Mother is confident in Her independence, going about the business of living while unconcerned with those who think they rule Her. There is no indecision within Her about Her abilities; She knows who and what She is. She is joy, and reveling in the joy of life itself. She is confidence, responsibility, and increasing knowledge of life. Along our spiritual journey she is the Great Teacher and Keeper of Knowledge. It is through Her that we learn the Great Mysteries.

The Third Aspect: The Crone

The Crone is the third and final aspect. She is also called the Dark Mother, Old Wise One, or the Hag. Since She is the least understood and symbolizes death, this aspect frightens many. The Crone recycles and reforms our soul into a new incarnation through Her cauldron. The Crone represents Winter, the night, the abyss where life rests before rebirth, the gateway to death and reincarnation, the Waning and New Moon, and the deepest of Mysteries and prophecies. Her traditional color is black, and the deepest of purples or dark blue. She is the Initiator into the Mysteries.

Advanced age and the wisdom of experience that comes with it should be honored and anticipated. It is a time of life when one can look back with introspection, remembering the good times with a happy heart and the bad times with wisdom. The rest of us could benefit from their help and hard-earned knowledge. Elders can pass on their knowledge by helping in schools, tutoring, and participating in events at community centers. They should demonstrate wisdom, vibrance, caring, and love.

The Dark Mother is the teacher of the very deepest of spiritual Mysteries, including the contacting of spirits. Through Her we learn the necessity of focusing our energy on important things, like spiritual growth, living our lives to the best of our ability while seeking the Goddess within. The Crone knows what She has been and what She will be. She is the ultimate Prophetess who sees the past, present, and future.

Everyone must come to terms with death and the Crone eventually. Most people have a healthy fear of death, which saves us from fatally risky behavior. That “will to live” is necessary to keep us fighting for survival through physical and mental illness. However, we should seriously contemplate our mortality. A comfortable relationship with the Crone will prepare us to handle the loss of friends and family. Eventually this relationship with the Crone will help us to make our own transition.

We must seek the Dark Mother not the other way around. When we continue our spiritual journey under the guidance of the Crone we find that the path that has led us downward eventually leads upward once again. With Her assistance, our eyes are open to the deepest spiritual mysteries. We gain the knowledge needed to plan a new life, whether that be the one in which we are now, or in the next.

Sources:

Maiden, Mother, Crone

D.J. Conway

Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner

Scott Cunningham

Wicca: The Complete Craft

D.J. Conway

#triple goddess #maiden #mother #crone #Wicca #goddess

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cicici03 · 4 years

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Conform or Change- Chapter 2

“Now Shy, I told you that you don’t have to help me cook. Now you go on somewhere!” Anna Mae cried out to Shy while pushing her out.

Ms. Anna Mae was the Munteanu’s house keeper. Just like Shy, she was from the south, Alabama to be extact. She moved up here with her son and his family because The Jim Crow Laws that incite violence and mobs against black people. Ms.Anna Mae didn’t take crap from nobody, black or white, and she defitnely didn’t like when you was in the kitchen.

Shy laughed at Ms. Anna Mae as she tried to get her out of the kitchen. However, Shy still standed at the counter cutting the collard greens. Ms. Anna Mae shooked her head and turn around back to the stove.

“ Now you must really want that boy to fire me now! You over there fixin them good collard greens.” Ms. Anna Mae said in her Southern accent.

Shy smiled to herself as she kept cutting the collard greens. She look to see out of the window into the backyard. The kids were playing around in the mud with Elena.

“ Oh God!” Shy said in a quiet hush tone. She wasn’t upset about them playing, but she was upset about how Florian would react to their clothes. On Sunday afternoons, some of Florian close friends from the mafia come to eat lunch.

Shy quickly wipe her hands onto her apron. As she was bout to go out to the back door, Florian walked into the kitchen. Ms. Anna Mae could feel the room get cold as Florian walked in.

Shy turn all the way around to see Florian looking outside the window. He looks back to her and shook his head.

Florian turn to the fridge to get him a brew. Shy turn back around to the collard greens and went back cooking.

“ Boy, why are you shaking your head at that girl?” Ms. Anna Mae looks towards Florian.

“ It’s nothing to worry your brain about Ms. Anna.” Florian lied as he took a big gulp of the brew.

Ms. Anna Mae looked at him like he had two heads on him.

“ Well, butter my damn biscuit! Now, I wouldn’t have ask that question if Ms. Shy wouldn’t cry right as you left this kitchen!” Ms. Anna Mae voice rose an octove as she looked at Shy.

Shy was quietly whimpering as she cut the greens.

“ Shy, baby, turn around.” Ms. Anna Mae said while Florian was looking on to. Shy quickly put down the knife and wipe her eyes. As she was doing that, Ms. Anna Mae look at Florian watching his wife.

Nothing.

Florian seem like it was nothing wrong with his wife. Now if ge made Shy cry a few years ago, he be comforting her.Ms. Anna Mae knew them since the twins was two years old. She seen them when they were happy and they use to make her yelled at them when they need to go to a bedroom.

Now, Ms. Anna Mae saw two broken spirits that don’t know what to do no more.

As Shy turn around, she looked at the floor. Florian turn to Ms. Anna Mae and then turn back and walked out the kitchen.

“ Now, Shy, I know you shy. However, you need to take up for yourself honey!” Ms. Anna Mae looked at Shy.

Shy all of sudden just broke down crying.

Ms. Anna Mae rushed over to her and went to hugging her. To Shy, Ms. Anna Mae was the mother she never had.

“ I know. I know.” Ms. Anna Mae held her as she cried along with her. Even though, Ms. Anna Mae didn’t know exactly that was bothering Shy.

She did know that when somebody was hurting.

As they stood their for a moment, they was interrupted by the kids running in with Elena. The kids ran through the kitchen and into the living room. Elena saw the tear-filled eye of Shy.

“ Shy what’s wrong!” Elena run over to Shy.

Shy shooked her head, and just turn back around to cutting the greens. Shy wasn’t mad at Elena, but she didn’t like when there was so much attention on her.

Elena look at Ms. Anna Mae.

Ms. Anna Mae walked over to the stove while pushing Elena over there too.

Ms. Anna Mae said in hush tone what happen.

Elena really wanted to slap her cousin. She didn’t only want to slap him, but herself too. She should’ve told the kids to stop playing and shouldn’t have even join them.

“ Should I tell him that it was my fought?” Elena asked Ms.Anna Mae.

“ He is still going to say it is my fault.” Shy spoke quietly, but loudly enough for Elena and Ms. Anna Mae to hear.

As Elena was about to say something,the door bell interrupted her.

Everybody knew, that the semi quiet house was about to interrupt into chaos. Elena went to the door and open it to see many of the mafia members, their significant others, and kids.

Soon the house was in chaos.

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

As everybody mingle, Shy stayed in the kitchen as per usual. Shy really didn’t talk to any of the wives.They were all genuinely nice to her.Even though, the wives range in many different race and nationalities, Shy just could never talked to them.

Shy had extreme social anxiety and with sheltering herself as a child. She made her social anxiety even worst.

As Shy kept cooking, the door bell rang again. As the door open, the room erupted in cheers.

Shy wondering whom could it be.

She finish stirring the pot of Cabbege Rolls for Mr. Alexundru that loves his home country food. With that, she tooked the apron off and headed to the living room.

Everbody was around the person that walked in. Soon as Shy could see the person, she grin from ear to ear.

“ Now where is my Shy!” the ringing voice yelled.

Everbody started to seprate and Shy eyes land on her.

“ Marilyn!” Shy ran to hug her sister.

“Majorie!” Marilyn said while hugging her sister even tighter.

At the tender age of 23, Marilyn have been everywhere. From, Milan, Paris, Barcelona, England. Marilyn is an NYU graduated and have been working and organzing for The Black Femnist Movement since then.

As the sisters kept hugging, a small voice spoked up.

“ Aunt Mar, did you bring presents?” Florian Jr asked with his siblings behind him.

Marilyn smiled, “ Of course I do! I actually got presents for everyone!”

Marilyn open the suitcase by her feet and let everyone at them.

Shy and Marilyn walked back to the kitchen where Elena, Ms. Anna Mae, and David was at.

“ Well, look a here. I didn’t know they let sleazy night walkers back into the U.S!”Ms. Anna Mae sassed at Marilyn.

“ Well, I don’t know why Shy still have a country pumpkin of a hag still working for her!” Marilyn devilishly smiled.

Shy popped Marilyn on the head.

“ What, she started with me first!” Marilyn shouted back at Shy.

Marilyn walked over to Elena and gave her a hug. Just not any old hug, but a hug that lasted for a minute.

Even though David and Ms. Anna Mae was finishing the food. Shy looked at the two.

She knew that hug just wasn’t a friendly hug, but a hug that meant more.

The two let go and stare at each other for a minute, before Marilyn saw out of the corner of her eye to see her sister staring.

“ Well, where is that no good husband of yours?” Marilyn scoffed out her lips while walking over to Shy.

Shy, whom was fixing Mr.Alexundru plate, looked at her sister with pleading eyes.

“ What, he is no good!” Marilyn said in a matter to fact voice.

“ Little girl, stay out of them folks business. You need to find you a man of your own instead of opening up your legs so wide!” Ms. Anna Mae spoke up.

“ You need get like David here!”, Ms.Anna Mae tap David on the shoulder, “ Be a virgin!”

Elena, Marilyn, and Shy snickered under their breath.

Of course Ms. Anna Mae thought David was a virgin. He was of course, to women, however men was another thing.

“ Well thank you Ms. Anna Mae for putting my business out there!” David stuttered with embarrassment.

“ Of course honey!” Ms.Anna Mae smile while walking with a dish to the dining room.

All the girls start laughing at Ms. Anna Mae.

As they all calm down, Marilyn spoke.

“ Shy, I got you some good news!” Marilyn smiled.

As she was bout to come out with it, Ms.Anna Mae yelled, “ It is time to eat everyone!”

“ Oh tell me later Marilyn! I got to get the kids to wash their hands!” Shy quickly washed her hands in the sink.

“ Can you also get all the men from out of Florian’s office!” Shy left the kitchen to get the kids.

Marilyn rolled her eyes as she realize that she was going to see the man that made her blood boil.

Florian and Marilyn use to be cool with each other, but as Marilyn went to school and started to learn more about female empowerment. She realize that Florian was a man with a big ego.

Along side, that he blame her sister for something that happen two years ago. However, how Marilyn saw it, it was his fault.

As Marilyn got to the door, she just listen for a bit of the conversation.

In the room, Florian and many of the younger men in the mafia talk about their wives and lives. While the older men spilt up from them and talk about their youth.

“ Florian, how are you and the Mrs. I heard that Anna Marie came to the church!” Oscar said with his thick Puerto-Rican accent. Everybody quiet down when they heard what Oscar said.

“ Nothing happen.” Florian said in a cold tone.

“ Well Mr. Bossman, that is not what I heard,” Oscar went on, “ I heard that Anna Marie was basically saying all of the out of the box things. With that, you let her say them things!” Oscar finish up.

Florian glared at Oscar.

“ Damn Boss, the downstairs not that good anymore?” Brian spoked to Florian.

Florian was listening, but was in his own thoughts about Anna Marie. He was thinking about her in way that would not be pleasing.

“ You see it is true! You having an affair with Anna Marie!” Oscar said in a shocked voice.

Everybody look at Florian.

He didn’t say anything.

“ We haven’t done nothing, but whenever I am on top of Shy, I think about her!” Florian confirmed anybody suspicion of his relations to Anna Marie.

Everybody was quiet.

When Marilyn heard that, she was anger personified. She wanted to go in there and choke Florian.

Marilyn still with anger, put on her award winning smiled and barge in. All the men glance and saw her.

“ Oh Mamcita, you look more beautiful than ever!” Oscar glided over to Marilyn. All the men, except Florian, looked at her with goo goo eyes.

“ If you are not single, I will tell your wives that y’all are looking at me crazy. With that, the food is ready!” Marilyn said with a nonchalant tone.

All the men walked towards the dining room table. With that, Florian was the last one to leave.

Marilyn looked at him up and down. She knew something was wrong with her sister when she first came in, but Shy would always brush under the rug.

Marilyn knew she needed to say something.

With that, the wheels was turning as she headed to the dining room

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

4 hours later...

Everybody was having a good time mingling and eating. The kids were outside playing in the back yard with some of the elders of the mafia watching them.

Then all the adults were sitting at the table. Florian and Shy sat at the ends of the table, with everyone else in the middle.

Marilyn thought this was a perfect time to tell everyone her good news.

She stood up and tap her class to get everyone attention. She looks around, seeing everyone smiling but Florian.

“ Well, I have some good news for myself and my sister,” Marilyn smiled, “ Well I got a job as a professor for Women Studies at NYU!” Marilyn screamed with joy.

Everybody cheer, excepted for Florian.

“ With that, that means I am staying back in the New York full time!” Marilyn scream once again with joy.

Marilyn looked at her sister and could see the happiness beam off her.

“ I also said that I had a surprise for my sister.” Marilyn smiled to Shy. Marilyn took the big envelope off her seat and hand it to her.

All the wives knew what it was, and they all ran over to surround her.

Shy looked at her sister with Marilyn giving her a nodded.

She read whom it was from:

New York University Admissions

Shy open it and took out the paper.

“ Marjorie Munteanu, we will like to officially accepted you into the The Betterment Program!” Shy yelled out with excitement.

She ran over to her sister and hug her tightly.

“ Plus, it’s free since I work there!” Marilyn yelled out.

Even though, Marilyn wanted to travel more . Whenever reading letters from her sister, she felt so much sadness behind them.

Marilyn might be the youngest sister, but she is the big sister in some sense.

So when, one of her friends recommend her for the professor tenure. Marilyn thought about Shy and how much this could help her.

Shy is always doing for others, but not doing something for herself.

As the women where celebrating, all the men looked at Florian.

Florian was furious.

“No.” Florian snapped while slamming his hand on the table.

Everything turn very quiet in the dining room, and even outside where the kids were due to the door being open.

One of the elders close the door knowing it was about to be bad.

Marilyn looked at Florian.

“ Well she is! It’s not like you paying for it!”Marilyn exclaimed while looking at Florian.

“ She is not going.” Florian assured while looking at Shy. Florian went back eating his pasta.

“ It’s fine. We can talk about it later.” Shy stuttered out.

Florian looked back up and said, “ There is nothing else that needs to be talk about, and that is final.”

“Shy you really going to let him talk to you like that. For bloody hell Shy, this your chance to leave him!” Marilyn yelped out. When Marilyn realized what she said, she regret it.

All you could hear was Florian’s fork drop on the plate.

Shy didn’t dare look up.

Florian was shocked by hearing that.

Shy wouldn’t do that.

Florian looked at Shy and knew that Marilyn was telling the truth. Shy always start scratching her left arm whenever she was nervous.

Everybody look at Florian, and they never seen him shock like how he was.

“ Shy, get her out this house.” Florian voice tremble with anger.

“ No I am not going to get out of this house. Cause if you remember, Shy holds 80 percent ownership of this house. Plus I wouldn’t dare leave my sister with you like this. You don’t love her! You think about that slut, Anna-Marie, whenever you are on top of my sister!” Marilyn scream with tears coming down her eyes.

All the men looked at Marilyn.

“ Yeah, I heard everyone and what they had to say! So please don’t test me!” Marilyn blurted out.

As everything has been thrown out there, Mr. Alexundru, whom was sitting by Shy, looked at her.

Shy was heart-broken.

She knew that things were bad, but not this bad.

Shy was holding in the tears, but she couldn’t hold them anymore.

She left the dining room, and went quickly up the stairs. Florian followed right behind her.

As Marilyn was trying to go and follow them, Ms. Anna Mae held her back.

“ You already done cause WWII to happen. We are not ready for a Hirshomia!” Ms. Anna Mae whispered with much authority.

Everybody just sat there to listen, what was going on upstairs.

All they heard was a slam of a door.

Florian walked back downstairs and left the house.

Nobody didn’t know what to do.

“ Well I guess that means we are not going to eat cake.” Oscar looked around.

Marilyn smacked upside the head and went back to drinking her wine.

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

Well.......

How do we feel about that chapter?

What is Florian blaming Shy for that may be his fault after all?

How do you like Marilyn?

Marilyn and Elena?

Shy?

Florian?

Ms.Anna Mae?

Oscor?

Y’all there are to many questions and I need answers!

So please LIKE,COMMENT,AND REBLOG!

Taglist: @19jammmy @twistedcharismaaa @designerwriterchic @queen-zelieonna @amethyst09 @champagnesugamama @natashacoco @cocobutterqwueen @bvssmob

#florian big nasty munteanu #florian munteanu x black reader #florian munteanu

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welovelofi · 4 years

Photo

любит меня не любит меня // Loves Me Loves Me Not

Winters’ not yet over, so here’s what we’ve found on the side of the road for you

The Early Mornings - Artificial Flavour

youtube

Lots of wonderful nods to lovely acts as The Breeders and The Raincoast - who recently started playing some reunion shows - maybe this is the perfect fit for a support act? I gotta say I love the lofi jangly vibe with the half-way yelling female vocals, something very Sonic Youth about it that you can’t do anything but love!

Okay Alright - lying in roads

https://soundcloud.com/user-949334681/lying-in-roads/s-G5bzI

really laid back bedroom vibe on this, perfect vocals over a sleazy dead guitar pattern. It’s got a little of that hopefull melancholy that Mark Everett from Eels have always done really well. I’m really excited to see what else comes out of this project, so should you be!

Nicole Faux Naiv - До свидания навсегда + Traum Trauma

youtube

We’re including 2 songs by Nicole on this round, simply because she puts out nice tunes too fast for anyone to follow. There’s an atmosphere to her things that reminds me of movies like City of the Lost Children and Delicatessen, movies by Jean-Pierre Jeunet that sucks you into a very special world that doesn’t fully seem to be part of our reality.

I can recommend both of these tracks by Nicole and I can only say that I’m looking very much forward to what else might be to come!

youtube

Bled Tape - Feels Better in the Morning

https://soundcloud.com/francisshannon/feelsbetterinthemorning

Even with a very midi’ish mix that has the drums too loud this tune really shows enornous potential. Really fucking simple everything that’s going on, but the way it moves and sways together is not often you find that kind of track that just connects in the simplicity. Reminds me somewhat of the Daydream Nation record with Sonic Youth, but if Alvvays had made it maybe?

James Clayton - Avalene

youtube

We don’t feature a lot of tracks with a more straight up folky or singersongwriter vibe, but this is really worth a listen (as the video is worth a watch). On the surface it just sounds like a really well-written singersongwriter tune that isn’t scaring anyone away - it’s also not scaring anyone away, but the details hiding throughout this track really cuts it to the next level. I kinda wanna say this sounds like a merger of Jimi Hendrix and Mac Demarco? It could be.

Until we find out, you should just sit down and watch the video and listen to the song, I promise you won’t regret it ! It’s all very very well made <3

Remington Super 60 - I Don’t Wanna Wait

https://soundcloud.com/cafesuperstar/02-remington-super-60-i-dont

We’ve had these lovely Norwegians on the blog before and I didn’t realize how much I’ve actually missed them!? It’s like the bliss-version of Abba without all the glitter and tv-shows. This is for the quiet days when you’re by yourself of a loved one and just planning on spending the day in bed or in a tent somewhere on a hillside <3

Sugarloaf Beach - Casablanca

https://soundcloud.com/sugarloafbeach/casablanca/s-gUOkz

Oh this is some epic vacation music right here - I’d just take an ipod loaded with this track 1000 times, pick a ticket anywhere sunny. Go to the beach, order myself a pina colada and ice cream and just not go anywhere else. I’ll have friends naturally, since I’m bringing my ghettoblaster to play the song on, soon we’ll be 100 just enjoying life at the Sugarloaf Beach. Future is never, it’s now. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

The Blaze Velluto Collection - Fish Mountain Part II

youtube

This here gotta come for the audio-roadtrip it is! Video is a masterpiece, you might not be into the more 70s vibe of the music, but you should be able to appreciate it for the feel it delivers in connection with the video. I’m sure there’s a soundtrack hiding out there for something like this, if it’s not already there!?

Shelter Boy - Pale Ocean Boy

https://soundcloud.com/hndgmcht/shelter-boy-pale-ocean-child/s-xZXuK

Good solid UK slacker vibe ala early Libertines meets Mac Demarco and had a jam. It’s bound to have a music video with gardens and flowers, I wanna come help make it, just give me a ring! Nice voice, would make Elias from Iceage proud!

Sucker Bet - Bottle Rocket

open.spotify.com/track/6d9RrtQBuoZ2PBNnSCX2TN?si=Wwuk0CaUSESbmICPVlmAkQ

very oldschoool Weezer vibes out of this, when you still were checking out the records! a tad more slacker-based, bedroom style, so it’s also not trying to hard. But I’m sure the blue and green albums are in the collection of these lovely lads. Looking forward to seeing which road these guys head down in the future!

Quaker Parents - Manuscript of Low Blows

https://quakerparents.bandcamp.com/track/manuscript-of-low-blows

Lets just stop for a second and appreciate the band name! Its fucking hard enough to begin with coming up with a semi-good one, so when you land a keeper you have to remember to appreciate it! I’ll score a 10 on the name alone on this, luckily there’s some nice stuff to come for in the music as well. Really chill sleepy voice, it’s got some really nice Built to Spill heritage going on for it, but the whole atmosphere of the tune isn’t trying to impress anyone - it’s got its own pace going for it, you can either like it or fuck off. So should it be and so it is, looking forward to the next tune <3

Lizzy & the Fanatics - Far Away

https://soundcloud.com/lizzysparkles/far-away/s-RARdF

A bit more down the “poppy” road than we normally do, but this strangely 80s nostalgia trip just really hits the spot. Lots of dream-pop bands coming out these days, most sound like the same mush, but once in a while someone nails it - I’m personally a pretty fucking happy camper if music like this could be on the radio instead of whatever it is that’s playing now, it’s like scrambled space-signals. Lizy have a wonderful voice, there’s a chill vibe, I wanna hear more <<3

Death Hags - Be Who You Are (Skyforest Edit)

https://soundcloud.com/death_hags/be-who-you-are-skyforest-edit

Really nice lofi production on this, again some sort of The Raincoats vibe, some Beat Happening vibes (if they had computers insteadf of 4-tracks and cassette decks). Loving the vocals - there’s some heavy potential hiding here, can’t wait for the next couple of tunes to come out <3

#the early mornings #okay alright #dirty nice #Nicole Faux Naiv #bled tape #feels better in the morning #James Clayton #remington super 60 #The blaze velluto collection #shelter boy #sucker bet #quaker parents #Lizzy & the Fanatics #Death Hags #sugarloaf beach

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ask-jaghatai-khan · 5 years

Text

Trullholme — The Isle of Troggoths

// I’ve always liked odd subfactions, and the second I saw the Dankhold Troggboss in the Gloomspite release I hoped against hope - and they delivered. So here’s my homebrew fluff for an all-troll faction!

“O’er storm-seas prowled, ere dark mist shrouding, from whence ancient beasts thundered, and savaged kinsfolk like Wyrds upon cattle.”

History

It is unknown to the peoples of the Mortal Realms just where the island of Trullholme originally came from - what primordial magics crafted it and when. All that is known is the destruction the phenomenon brings with it wherever it appears. A wandering isle, shrouded in fog and composed of a strange blend of earth, magic, and fragments of forgotten plunders, upon which rides potential thousands of troggoths. Named Trullholme by the barbarian tribes of Ghur who first recorded the existence of the isle in their sagas, the landmass moves through the oceans of the Realms as if at random, crossing the boundaries from one to the next in a shroud of magical mist. It is a vast land, and its appearance and approach to civilized shores heralds devastation for all nearby. When the great landmass at last impacts the beach, the shockwave awakens its ravenous denizens, who proceed to rampage as far afield as their brutal chieftains will lead them. Mystery still shrouds what happens after the slaughter - when the great troggherds migrate back to Trullholme, laden with not just food, but loot that should by all means be useless to them. As the Bad Moon waxes grim across the Realms, and the appearances of Trullholme become more frequent, it is suspected that the island itself might act with some dark purpose…

Territory

The Isle of Troggoths is a large, mobile island that prowls the seas of the Mortal Realms, often emerging and retreating into a cloud of preternatural fog that acts similarly to a Realmgate. Mainly composed of brackish wetlands and dark mangroves, moving inland the hills rise into rocky moors, eventually turning into craggy hills and cliffs of substantial size. Two oddities mark out the island above all others - first being the pockmarked and shattered appearance of much of the land. Though most of the hills and swamps are worn and ancient, there can occasionally be found an abandoned ruin, or colossal set of bones, seemingly placed with no relation to their surroundings. What few scholars have managed to study the isle believe these to be displaced plunder by the troggherds, though few can say for certain. The second remarkable feature is the sprawling cave system beneath the island, containing not just mobs of elder troggoths, but strange magical anomalies that can warp reality like a trogg’s club warps a suit of armor.

Within the deepest pit on Trullholme, lying beneath the elder grove that is nestled in the sodden crags of the isle’s interior, is a dark and weird secret. For in truth, the entire isle is held together and potentially guided by the whims of an artifact known as the Fang of the Elderwoald. A large, jagged crystal, sickly green in color, the Fang radiates intense magical power, and seemingly holds sway over the simple minds of the troggoths that inhabit its land. No one knows for certain what it is, or even that it exists at all, save in the maddest visions of wild and corrupted sorcerers. A handful of Gloomspite shamans have heard tell of the crystal from the muddled mumblings of Trullholme troggbosses, or from strange divinations brought on by their mushroom magics. These greenskin seers guess that it could be the tooth of some ancient godbeast, a fragment of the Bad Moon, or even one of the tusks of Gorkamorka himself. All that can be known for sure is that the Fang of the Elderwoald holds total sway over all those in its domain, and seems attracted - by Moon or some other malign force - to the prospect of pillaging.

Behavior

The troggoths of Trullholme spend most of their time in dormancy, sleeping for up to years at a time. Younger troggoths tend to be more active and hungry, but as they age and grow their stores of energy stabilize and compel them to sleep. Some ancient beasts sleep for so long that they practically merge with the land and could be mistaken for entire hills. Many different breeds of troggoth reside on the island, from stinking wetland-dwellers, to stone troggs in the uplands, deep cave-slumberers, and stranger breeds still, such as the fabled troggoths of frost and fire who dwell deep beneath the isle, under layers of stone, earth, roots, and bone.

Troggoths are not terribly intelligent, and even the brightest among them pales next to the dumbest orruk warboss. Regardless, some have enough strength to assert themselves as primitive chieftains or herd-alphas, laying claim to territory and siring many young. Juvenile troggoths may band together for safety against their larger kin, but will eventually turn to solitude as any competition becomes a threat. Those who survive long enough will slip into long hibernations to conserve their strength, only awakening to gorge themselves, do away with interlopers, or heed the call of the Elderwoald. The exceptions to this are the Elder Hags - those female troggoths who have lived for many centuries, guarding the inner sanctum of the Fang and only emerging either to hunt, or seek a troggboss mighty enough to sire a worthy brood.

When the ramblings of the isle eventually lead it to land, the earthquake it causes will awaken near all the troggoths on the island, who will then pour out into the wide world to find food. They act with little purpose, ransacking and following larger troggoths at the promise of a good hunt. During this time they may be aided by other forces or steered to cause a more preferable path of devastation. Greenskins are usual allies, though many factions have seen wisdom in guiding the stampedes towards their enemies rather than face the tide themselves. What’s oddest is what happens afterwards - tales abound of the troggoths hauling off all manner of plunder that would otherwise be of no use to them and bringing it to Trullholme before the island departs. Unseen by any, the deep-dwelling hags offer up all manner of treasures to the Fang, seeking to sate the hunger it radiates. Treasure, magical artifacts, meat - all content the Fang for a little while, before it steers Trullholme towards new prey.

Notable Creatures

Thrud the Slumberer — “We couldn’t hold the hill, sir. It - moved.” — The largest and most ancient of all the troggbosses on Trullholme. Named by the ancient barbarians of Ghur, Thrud means “mighty”, and it is a fitting term. Spending decades at a time asleep in the foothills of the inland crags, Thrud is of mountainous size, and wields a club fashioned from the bone of some beast even more ancient and colossal than he. The Slumberer may have sired almost all the troggoths of the isle, and is one of the only creatures besides the Elder Hags who has laid eyes on the Fang. The strange artifact has likely granted Thrud some measure of power, as when he arrives for the slaughter, weird phenomenon converge, and all the troggoths in his vicinity seem almost organized.

Mirhegge the Bogmother — “Hark now, the Saga of Bolvar Warbear, and learn how even the mighty may meet foul ends.” — The creature known in the most ancient, dark stories of barbarian and greenskin alike, Mirhegge is the matron of the Elder Hags, bride of Thrud and keeper of the Fang. Perhaps one of the smartest troggoths in existence, the Bogmother has been gifted with a natural ability to channel the chaos that leaks forth from the Fang. She may command the wills of even the mightiest troggbosses, empower or curse, and sow illusions to weaken foes or protect the isle. It is unknown just how far from a normal troggoth the creature Mirhegge has diverged.

The Fang of the Elderwoald — “I’z seen it! Toof ov da Bad Moon! Da green crystal!” — A strange and powerful artifact of a forgotten era, even those attuned to the dark energies of destruction are unsure just what power possesses the Fang, or where it came from. It radiates the power of life, but so intense as to twist beings like the corruption of Chaos - which it might be, though a chaos still far beyond the grasp of any petty sorcerer. The Fang has an unknowable hunger, and a connection to its island and the troggs thereon, guiding them to fresh lands, and compelling offerings from its legions of beasts and waiting hags.

Famous Encounters

Sagas of Ghur — The earliest accounts of Trullholme date back to the Age of Myth, just before the coming of Chaos across the Realms. Appearing in the ancient sagas of many cultures, primarily across Ghur, the coming of the isle inspired fear in even the bravest warriors, from noble chieftains to Bloodbound warlords. The unbridled destruction wrought by the tide of troggoths was more than simple animalistic fury - such was the scale and totality of the despoilment that the arrival of the troggherds was treated more like a plague or curse than a simple invasion. Soon, Trullholme had appeared in most all the Realms, though it still eluded study by any learned folk. In time, the appearances of the isle became less and less frequent, and its monstrous legend became myth, as the hordes of Chaos were fought off, knowledge was lost, and civilizations had little time for mere stories.

Bad Moon Rising — With the waxing light of the Bad Moon shining with new, terrible energy across the Realms, the isle of Trullholme has begun to appear again, more and more, bringing terrible destruction once again. The troggoths have grown large and powerful, their hags and hordes more numerous, and the hunger of the unseen Fang has only grown. Gloomspite shamans have attempted to find ways to attract the island, as some believe it is drawn to the light of the Bad Moon. Whether this is true, or if the Gloomspite merely offer the best opportunity for great slaughter and plunder to the Fang, it is irrelevant. Great herds of troggoths march again against any who would stand in their way, and many a champion of every stripe has sought to prove themselves a match for the ancient heroes of legend, only to end up dissolved in a troggboss’ stony gut. Attempts to lock down the island and invade it for hunt, study, or promises of treasure, have so far fallen short.

#homebrew #gloomspite gitz #troggoth #age of sigmar #warhammer

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the-barn-rat · 5 years

Text

IB 1. Dianora Brixie, Sk.

SUP FOLKS i’ve decided im literally going to just post monster hunters (working title Iron Bound) as i fucking write it?? because 1. i really like hearing what people think about what’s happening/what’s going to happen as i go, which ties into 2. I Want The Validation

this is literally a fresh completely unedited draft, so there will be a lot of changes & additions, especially to descriptive setting prose. that being said, if there’s specific shit you want to hear more about immediately, lemme know and i’ll make sure it goes in draft 2

These posts will all be tagged “monster hunters draft” in case you want to track them or don’t want to see them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO: that monster hunters shit i’ve been planning since like november

.....

Sigi is the only one who can tell that she is distracted. They are twins, and so they know each other’s tics and tells, but it still feels like a weakness. He eyes her across the table, squints and tilts his head—dark and owlish like hers, with sharper angles—and she lets out a long breath through her nose, ignoring him. A folded-up letter sits heavy in the pocket of her waistcoat. Dia can’t think about it now.

At the centre of the cabin, the hunter kneels for preparation. She could be made of lifeless bronze but for the steady rise and fall of her breastplate. The mentor, whose virtue-name is Eager, clasps golden ornaments into her hair and onto her black horns.

There’s a murmur outside, beyond the stone walls and locked shutters. Townspeople have gathered, doubtless fascinated by the spectacle of a hunting crew. Dia ignores them in favour of the crossbow resting in front of her: she fidgets with it, checks the springs and sights and checks them again. There is nothing wrong with the crossbow, but she needs to occupy her hands.

Eager steps back, and the hunter stands. Dia never feels right sitting down when the hunter stands. The hunter is too tall, too broad, and it makes her nervous. She feels as though she must be ready to flee or hide at any moment, however futile an exercise that would be.

At least this one is Cornuta, and not one of the stranger breeds. Not Seguna with their twisted animal faces, or fish-like Pescqui with their gills. Hollow comforts. This hunter could still slaughter all of them if she chose to. If the rumours are true, she might yet choose to.

Eager produces an elegantly carved mahogany box, about the size of his own palm. He presses his thumb to the rune on its front, and it opens for its keeper. The single vial inside glows a soft, sickly yellow-green.

“In defense of the common folk, your masters,” Eager intones, “sharpen your senses and steel your mind.”

Wordlessly, the hunter takes the vial, uncaps it, and swallows its contents. If Dia were closer, she might see the hunter’s pupils shrink down to dots for a breath and then dilate until her irises are slender lilac rings. Dia prefers not to be closer until absolutely necessary.

Sigi fits a belt of flasks and tiny grenades around the hunter’s hips. Dia slides the crossbow into the hunter’s hands, checks the straps on her quivers, and backs away.

The pathfinder speaks: “It was last sighted eight miles north of town, in a valley bog between two nameless peaks. We have no expert testimony, but eyewitness accounts continue to support our initial conclusion that the creature is a green hag.”

“You hear that, Ferro?” Eager says, addressing the hunter directly. “This is a fawn’s assignment.”

The hunter nods once, terse. In theory, her kind can speak. Dia has never heard this one’s voice.

“Medic, is she sound?” Eager says.

The medic, Antare, has not risen from his seat at the table. “Do you reckon she injured herself kneeling on the floor?” he asks.

Eager reddens. His mouth twists underneath his full silver-specked beard. “The rituals are not for nothing,” he starts.

Antare sighs, but he stands. He’s the tallest and broadest of them, the only one who can look the hunter right in the eye. Dia has wondered privately if that’s why they sent him to replace the last medic. If she snaps again, he’s the only one with half a chance.

The medic stands square before the hunter. “The body is sound,” he says.

Eager says, “You haven’t…”

Antare cuts him short. “I checked her over at dawn,” he says. “She’s in excellent health. The body is sound.”

“The path is clear,” says the pathfinder, effectively delaying the inevitable argument.

“The steel will bite,” says Dia.

“The fire will burn,” says Sigi.

Eager collects himself. “Murat’s light guide you to your quarry,” he says. “In his name, Valiera’s Nezetta Six Ferro, strike true.”

The hunter gives a shallow, wordless bow from the hips, and otherwise does not respond to any of the proceedings. Eager unlatched and opens the door, and the smell of pig shit and springtime mud billow in before the hunter steps out.

The small gathered crowd flows away from her like water. They fall silent, staring up at this tamed creature of legend. She may well be the first and last they ever see; Apla is a small, unimportant farming village well-protected from most fronts of the First War. This hag is an irregularity at best.

She stands there, not looking at the people, until Antare brings the horse they bought from one of the farmers for well above its value. It looks small and scruffy beside the hunter. When she sits astride, it drops its parrot-mouthed muzzle and arches its ewe neck as though it knows that this is the most important thing it will do in its life.

A murmur starts to rise again from the farmers. Dirty-faced and small-minded, they cast wide-eyed glances at each other, up at the hunter, at the crew standing behind her. Dia knows what they will say, to each other and to Eager and to whomever else is stupid enough to stay outside the tower for longer than necessary. They will continue to say it until the hunter returns with the head of a hag.

Eager senses the shift. “My friends,” he booms, opening his arms wide. “The hunter is strong and true. She will bring your tormentor’s end.”

“We sure that ain’t a demon also?” someone says.

“Go, hunter,” Eager intones. “Win their hearts and minds with the highest gift.”

The hunter swings the horse about and kicks it into a trot, and then a gallop. None stand in her way. Dia watches horse and rider disappear up the dirt road, between the pig farms and into the encroaching woods.

Dia tunes out the villagers’ concerns as well as Eager’s responses to them. As soon as the hunter is out of sight, she turns back into the tower, giving Sigi a look on her way past. He understands and follows her up to the third level, to the bed chamber she claimed as hers.

Sigi goes to open the shutters on the single window.

“Don’t,” Dia says. “I can’t stand the fucking smell.”

Her twin shrugs. “City smells worse.”

“That’s why we don’t live in the city, either.”

Sigi smirks. “That and no other reason, right?” he says.

Normally, she would laugh. This time, she half-turns away from him and rubs at her eyes. His face falls; she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the folded-up letter.

“Courier caught me right before we boarded the Olunaria,” she says. “I forgot about it until this morning.”

When she holds it out to him, he approaches it like a skittish deer. He reads it in silence, a small frown wrinkling his brow. He does not shed a tear; neither had she. They were never close to their lord father.

“What does it mean for us?” he says carefully, once he’s through.

Dia sighs. “Hopefully, very little. We weren’t expecting an inheritance, were we?”

“No, I meant…” Sigi says. “Should we go to Brixi? Cecilia may need us.”

“Cecilia needs us as far away as possible,” Dia snorts. “If we go now, the nobility will decide that Signore Fiadri’s bastard twins have come to mine the estate.”

“Or perhaps that Signore Fiadri’s bastard twins have come to their sister’s aid in her time of mourning,” Sigi says. He is charmingly naïve, sometimes.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “We can’t leave the crew now.”

He doesn’t argue. He folds the letter up and slips it back into her pocket. “I’ll be in the cellar,” he says. “Knock before you come in.”

And that’s the end of that, she supposes. They ought to write to Cecilia, eventually, but that will fall to Dia. Sigi is better at expressing emotions, but Dia knows how to avoid political misunderstandings.

There is no one here to call for wine. This little tower is barely maintained and has not hosted a hunting crew in years.

Dia goes to the pantry on the main floor, freshly stocked with bread, cheese, eggs, cured pork, and root vegetables from the local baron’s kitchen. The carrots and turnips are firm and fresh, but they’re not what she wants.

“No drink allowed in a sentinel tower,” says a voice at the door. The pathfinder leans against the frame, a performative boredom etched across his face. Every member of the crew is well-dressed and groomed, but the pathfinder’s class is still obvious to a trained eye. He wears silks, embroidery, and ennui like the wearing is sport.

He pats the limestone wall. “These are sacred stones.”

Dia stands up straight and gives a short curtsy. It feels ridiculous when she’s wearing breeches and a waistcoat. It must look ridiculous, too, because the pathfinder gives a snort of mocking laughter.

“My lord,” Dia starts.

“We could see if Apla has a tavern,” he says. “Though they’re as like to brew pig piss into ale as grain.”

She says nothing. He looks her up and down.

“I’ve heard the Fiadri is short a patriarch,” he says. Dia feels a misplaced flare of anger at his flippancy, but then she notes the wine skin dangling from his hand. He holds it out toward her. “Lesson one of crewing: bring your own.”

Dia takes the wine skin. “Thank you, my Lord,” she says. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The pathfinder’s brow knits. He tips his head back to squint at her down his aristocratic nose. He always manages to look tired, but now the circles under his eyes are especially pronounced. “Aren’t you highborn? You’ll take my wine, but you can’t say my name?”

Dia carefully keeps her expression neutral. “Forgive me. It’s safer to stand on ceremony.”

“Fair enough. Drink, it’s Luquian.”

She does. The wine is good: robust and sweet, blooming on her tongue for a long breath after she swallows. She tries to hand the skin back, only to have the pathfinder push it away.

“I have more,” he says. “A Kyriak dry white and a Sahnish spiced red. Both excellent.”

“Each more expensive than that farmer’s horse, I’ll wager,” Dia said, but she took another drink of the Luquian.

“A discerning Brixian palate,” says the pathfinder.

“My lord is too generous,” Dia says, to see if he insists.

“Corso,” says the pathfinder. “Valiera, if you must, though I’m about as near the Valiera seat as you are the Fiadri. If you really think about it, we’re equals.”

“You’re no bastard.”

“Neither do I hope for my brothers to die,” he said, somehow blunt and nonchalant at once. It occurs to Dia that this might be Corso Valiera’s way of offering his condolences. She won’t ask how he knew; information is a pathfinder’s currency. She takes another drink.

“Corso,” she says.

“Dianora,” he says. “There, now we can be colleagues.”

Below their feet, something rumbles like distant thunder. The pathfinder’s thick black brows climb, and Dia sighs and hands him the wineskin. “He’s the more emotional between us,” she offers, by way of explanation.

“And yet you’re the one hiding in the pantry, sharing illicit drinks with your patron’s fifth-born,” says Corso. “At least that sounded productive.”

Dia’s scalp tingles with embarrassment. “I had neither the time nor the space to bring my prototypes,” she snaps.

“Easy, there,” he says and, maintaining eye contact, takes a drink.

She realises, suddenly, that he’s still standing in the doorway, effectively blocking her path. Eager is outside with the masses. Sigi is in the cellar with his concoctions. Antare’s movements are nigh impossible to track. Corso Valiera outranks them all by far.

Dia’s heart beats rabbit-quick. Idiot. “I should go,” she says, controlling her tone. “My sister will expect a reply.”

The pathfinder hums. “Right, yes,” he says. “The worst part, this. The performance. The determination of what parts and pieces of your grief to display, to hide, to inflate for others to notice.”

He seems to turn inward, eyes distant and faded. Dia makes for the door, and the pathfinder stands up straight, blocking her path. He’s not much taller or older than her, but he’s broader and stronger. She doesn’t look him in the eye.

“Take this,” he says.

Dia blinks. The wineskin hangs between them, still mostly full. She reaches out and carefully takes it by the neck, and the pathfinder looks down at her.

“My advice, for what it’s worth, is to write at least four letters and burn the first three.”

She’s quiet and still for long enough that he notices, sighs, takes several deliberate steps backward. It’s the sudden release of tension from a spring, knocking the fear out of her lungs.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Dianora,” he says. When she looks up, he winks. “I’m shocked that you haven’t heard the rumours.”

She has, actually. She assumed they were slander. “I apologize,” she says stiffly. “I’m sure you are an honourable man. I have wronged you with groundless conjecture…”

He waves her off. “Go write your sister,” he says.

A part of her still expects that he’ll stop her as she goes by, but he doesn’t, and she’s left to feel childish and strangely dirty as she half-jogs up to her chamber. She hates it. It’s not Corso Valiera’s fault, really. He gave up a dangerous truth to calm her. Dia wondered, once a heavy door was closed and locked behind her, if he somehow knew or sensed the truth about her.

She takes his advice about the letter, sort of. The first sheet of parchment is utterly wasted on failed greetings alone:

I am so sorry to have heard—

My deepest condolences, dear sister—

We have just received—

This awful spectre follows us to Apla, where—

Father’s timing is impeccable as always—

Dia takes a long pull from the wineskin, corks it, and buries her face in her hands. She might sit there for a minute or an hour, and then she burns the parchment over a candle.

Hoofbeats drum on the dirt road outside. Dia starts: that’s quick, much too quick, even for a hag. She cracks the shutters, holding her nose against the smell. The shaggy brown horse gallops home, riderless.

Dia rushes down the stairs, teetering only once with drink. Corso and Antare stand in the doorway; Eager is outside among the people, has been for hours. Dia stands between the two men, peering out, listening.

“Is it dead? Is the demon dead?”

“We’re doomed. It’ll come for us next.”

“You said the hunter would stop it!”

“It ate my goats.”

“Liar!”

Eager stands, stoic and still, with a hand on the horse’s bridle. The beast is unharmed, without a drop of blood on it that Dia can see. A man comes wading through the crowd, and Eager hands him the reins.

“She has sent the horse back,” Eager intones. “You see? She has returned him unharmed to his master. The hunter will follow in time.”

“He speaks with confidence,” Antare mutters.

“An impressive front,” Corso replies. “He’s about to piss himself, as he should be.” Both Dia and Antare shoot him a look. The pathfinder shrugs and meanders deeper into the tower, ignoring the throng outside and leaving Antare to shut the door.

“I wasn’t aware you were concerned,” says Antare.

“You didn’t see the body,” says Corso. “To be frank, we should already have a courier running back to my father.”

Dia understands, belatedly. “You think she’s gone feral. So suddenly?”

Corso levels her with a look. “You didn’t see the body,” he says again. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and leans against the table at the centre of the room. He looks exhausted. “Maybe, when this is over, we’ll all be reassigned to something normal. I’m fond of the Ottiudi strain, myself, which of course means that the Signore will give me a Seguna. What are the two of you being punished for, by the way? I never asked.”

Antare says nothing. Dia swallows. “We wanted to work a hunting crew,” she says to fill the silence. “Your brother…”

“Ah, yes, right,” says Corso. “The University man himself. I suppose it was the best he could do for a pair of bastards. Terribly sorry that you’ve stepped out into this mess, green as grass.”

Dia has read the last medic’s journals, of course. They all have, but the tension in the pathfinder’s voice is a stretched bowstring, ready to snap. Drinking wine in the pantry, Corso’s face had been a healthy, warm brown. Now, it’s gone grey.

Antare stares out the window like it holds a puzzle he can’t quite solve. “Why would she run off now? She must know she’ll be hunted in turn.”

“You talk like she is a rational, thinking creature,” says Corso. “She was not thinking then, and she is not thinking now. I’ll draft a letter to my father.”

The door swings open. “You’ll do no such thing,” Eager says. “Have a little faith. She either fell off the horse or sent him back and out of danger.”

Corso presses his lips together. Dia thnks that gesture is all that keeps him from yelling at a Brother of Murat.

“You fear her,” Eager says.

“Bloody right I do,” says Corso.

“As you should,” the mentor says, nodding sagely. “As one fears the wolf, or the mountain-lion, or the summer storm. She is a force of nature. She has not lost her mind to a hag.”

Corso scoffs.

Eager presses on. “Do you remember what she was, before? The monsters she slew? She can be that again. It is our task to keep faith and to help her reclaim herself.”

The pathfinder complains, but the mentor helms the ship. They wait. Eager goes back out to the villagers after a time. Dia bangs on the cellar door and tells Sigi what’s happened now. Corso produces the Sahnish red and drinks most of it himself. Antare seems to vanish and reappear at will.

Near midnight, Corso balls up the fourth draft of his letter to the Valiera and tosses it into the hearth. Sigi reaches across the table for what’s left of the Kyriak white. Eager joins them, at last, and bolts the door behind him.

“Sleep soundly, my friends,” the mentor says. “Murat’s light will guide her home.” He flows up the stairs, calm as anything. Antare is the first to follow. Sigi goes next.

Dia meets Corso’s eye. “You saw the body,” she says.

The pathfinder’s face is lit with firelight behind and candlelight before. It flickers across his skin, casting a twisting grimace across his still features. “There was no head,” he says. Slurs, but only barely. “She had not cut it off, mind you. It was gone. It was paste on the stone. My nephew found a tooth in the garden, just last week.”

Dia nods. She sits in silence for a time, watching the fire burn. “If you’re right, then she’ll be gone soon.”

He doesn’t respond. She rises, at last, and puts herself to bed, where she stares at the ceiling until a dozen shouting voices stir her at dawn.

She staggers down the stairs just in time to see Antare shoving his way past Corso and Eager, rushing out the door with his equipment under his arm. Outside, another small throng has gathered, milling about with wordless shrieks and cries. Antare shouts, disperses them just enough for Dia to see the hunter’s body, face down in the mud.

The smell of pig shit hits her then, stained with something acrid and sharp that burns in Dia’s lungs. The hunter’s face is tipped just enough that her nose is not submerged in muck, but her eyes are shut, and they don’t flutter when Antare turns her over. The medic’s eyes bulge, and he swears.

“Clear the table,” he shouts over the din. “Clear it, there’s no time to move her!”

Antare lifts the hunter’s body, draping her across his arms like a gruesome bride, and marches through the villagers in a straight line. It’s only when he passes through the door that Dia sees the gore and sinew dropping from the empty socket of the hunter’s right shoulder.

“Alchemist!” the mentor shouts. Sigi has already recovered Antare’s equipment. He arranges knives and cloth and bottles of bubbling fluid on the table beside the filthy, prone body.

Corso mumbles. “Just let her die. Just let her die. It would be a mercy.”

Eager grips him by the shoulders and shakes, once, before turning to Dia. “Take him away, girl. You don’t need to see this.”

Dia wants to protest that she’s seen any number of surgeries and dissections. Instead, she grabs Corso by the arm, decorum be damned, and pulls him toward the stairs.

#monster hunters draft #my writes #write like benioff & weiss will get to finish your story if you don't

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