#she's inspired by BLOW & season of the witch

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Dream god!Yoongi x f. human!reader

☾ Summary: Don’t ask for help in the dark. It’s an old tale you always heard whispered among the people of your village. But when you find yourself dragged kicking by the man you’re to marry, you have little choice but to beg for help long after the sun has set. The god who answers your pleas promises to save you, but every deal comes with a price. 

☾ Word Count: 21,606

☾ Genre: Fantasy, angst, strangers to lovers, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, intense fight scenes, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via drowning, a physical fight between a man and a woman in the middle of a storm, sexual dream sequences featuring making out, biting (light), grinding, reader having flashbacks of trauma, a lot of thoughts about reader's terrible parents, a sort of power imbalance in the sense that reader is in Yoongi's realm as a part of a deal.

☾ Published: July 9, 2023

☾ A/N: It's finally here! This was originally supposed to be two giant chapters, but I cannot manage my time in a way to write to ~40k chapters and also fit all of this in a way that is not overwhelming or feels like it makes sense, so I have chosen to do this in 4 chapters of roughly 20k words! Thank you to everyone who has hyped me up for this idea, helped me work out some ideas, or listened to me struggle to write this because I was so unsure about the chemistry between Yoongi and reader at first. I am really excited to be writing this and have taken this in quite a different direction than the original idea when I had when I watched the Lilith MV, but that's okay. I heavily draw on inspiration from the Lilith MV, the song Possession of a Weapon by Ashnikko, The Sandman by Neil Gaiman, the movie The Witch, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab and the original myth of Hades and Persephone (where I got the deal/living in Yoongi's world idea from).

Special thank you to my amazing beta team who really helped make this fic what it is and make sure it was legible: @theharrowing and @here2bbtstrash

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve

Change like a season

-

It begins with rain.

White sheets of it beating against the window in a gentle murmur, a soft leak in the corner of the kitchen dripping into the metal bucket your mother has set out. The storm brings a cool wind with it, blowing in on the back porch where your father rocks back and forth in his chair, watching the deluge. 

Shivering, you throw another log into the fireplace, pulling your shawl closer as orange embers spark and crackle, drifting up the shute. The smell of burning cedar grows and you smile, sitting down in front of the licking flames and holding out your hands to warm your palms. 

Behind you at the kitchen table, your mother pulls a thread and needle through a dress she’s been working on, stitching purple flowers into the sleeves. You wonder if she’s making it for the neighbor's daughter, a girl a few years younger than you to be wed soon. 

Mother makes some of the best stitching in the village, her practiced hands etching artful flowers and vines and designs on the sleeves and skirts of most of the village women. She’s tried for years to pass the craft on to you, but your fingers aren’t nearly as nimble and your eye for art is sorely lacking. 

What you lack in art you make up for in stories, though. Head in the clouds, swimming in worlds, places and things you’ve never seen. Lives and people who only exist in your mind, entire fantasies with more colors and sights and smells than your tiny little world contains. 

You’d write them down if you could. Writing and reading is not a woman’s craft, though, and you know better than to press your father on the subject any further than you have in the past. A terse word from him and your raw knuckles after being forced to do the wash alone for weeks kept you from bringing up the topic of learning to read and write ever again, especially when you remember the sting of his slap when you pushed too far.

Still, you have your mind. You have the ability to dream up worlds and twist fantasies together, to daze off and pretend that you’re somewhere else. That you’re living another life.

You have the days where you finish working at the inn early, sitting in the corner of the room with hard bread and cheese, listening to the town’s storyteller whisper tales and myths to the children of the village.

For now, it will suffice. 

When the rain finally slows in the late afternoon, it’s cloudy and cool outside, the perfect temperature for a walk. Pulling on a pair of linen pants and a tunic, you creep toward the door, hoping to avoid the attention of your parents as they begin to prepare dinner in the kitchen, their movements methodical and silent. 

Carefully, you slide boots on your feet. As you reach for the front door, hidden from the view of the kitchen, you hear your mother call your name. You pause, closing your eyes and grimacing as you call back, “Yes?”

“Where are you going? It’s wet and cold outside.”

“Just for a short walk.”

“You’re going to catch a cold,” she protests. Her steps move near you. You pull the door open and step into the wet air, eager to get away from her. “Come help us with dinner.”

“I’ll see you shortly, the weather is lovely!”

Before your mother can come around the corner and pin you with her disappointed stare, you’re down the slippery steps and sloshing into the yard, mud and grass sucking at your steps as you hurry. You hear your father yell something like dammit, girl but you can’t be sure, the sounds of birds and the bugs swallowing his curses as you rush through the front yard.

The world is covered in a layer of fine mist, tree boughs heavy with rain as they drip drip drip onto the forest floor around you. Thick, gray clouds hide the sun still. Thunder rolls in the distance, promising more rain through the night. You don’t mind, diving into the darkness of the trees on a well-worn path through the woods.

Water floods the path up to the ankle, soaking your boots. You grin and kick your feet as you walk, watching the ripples flow outward. Water mosquitoes dance on top of the surface of the flood and you note little tadpoles swim by, confirming that the river by your house is flooding up over the bank and washing into the mainland. 

This is common most summers. Your house is out of the way from the town, almost a thirty minute walk. This far north, you’re only ten minutes from the edge of the slow-moving river that floods yearly turning the land around your property into a marsh. 

It’s your favorite time of year. A heron startles as you wander through the trees, shaking its white wings and shedding water as it hurries away on long, thin legs. You spot a snake swimming through the reeds, rushing away from you once it senses you sloshing through. 

Closer to the river, you pause. It’s hard to tell where the embankment dips down with it flooded. You can see where the flood moves faster, powered by the depth of the river and the overflow from the lake up north. Leaning against a tree, you look around this world of water. 

It seems alien. Trees block out the sky and are reflected in the surface of the flood, giving the illusion that you stand between two worlds, two dimensions. 

What would that be like, you wonder. 

According to the high priest in town, there are other dimensions. There are the heavens for the gods of light and love, who bless the world with fire and harvest and rain and oceans, who protect the people and who will absolve you of all sin and greed if you pray to them hard enough and accept them as your patrons. Who will love you only if you are devout.

You don’t believe in them for a second. If those gods of love and light do exist, they are not entirely good. They have never answered your prayers, have never saved you from pain or from sorrow. You have begged the gods to give you a new life, to let you leave. To let you go somewhere far away.

They have been silent. They were silent when your father beat you after the first time you rejected a marital match. They didn’t help you when he burned all your materials when you tried to teach yourself the shapes and sounds of letters.

So you stopped praying to them. 

There are other gods, of course. Other places for the wicked, dark gods full of trickery and greed, who seek only to fill the world with sin and deceit, who desire to make humans suffer and lose themselves in hedonism and debauchery. Those gods have a place too, the dark underworld for those who should be punished and reminded what it is to be full of sin. 

You’ve never prayed to them either, too afraid of what it would cost you. But you wonder if they answer or if they too watch the world from a mountain so high that they cannot bother to help those who need it. 

Still, you wonder what it would be like to walk between two worlds. To see one reflected in the other, to fall face first into the cool water only to surface in another place, almost an exact replica of where you’re from. 

It would be nice. Perhaps there you wouldn’t be a disappointing daughter who has turned away every suitor in the village, much to your father’s rage. There, you would be allowed to pursue reading and writing. You’d have the agency to sail the world and see the ocean for the first time, to feel the freezing spray of the seas on your face while you hunt the coast for something lost. 

Always something lost. 

In all of your fantasies, you’re looking for something. Sometimes, you’re not sure what it is you’re looking for, you just know that something needs to be found. Other times, it’s a specific object or a person, something that, deep down, you know represents the thing you desire to find most: freedom. 

A small school of fish swim by your feet. They can’t be any larger than your pinky finger, scurrying along before they’re swept up in the suction of the flowing river. Sighing, you push off the tree and begin to head back home, swatting at your bare arms where gnats bite at your sweaty skin. 

Dark presses in as you walk back. You had stayed in the woods later than you intended, mind drifting far off among the sounds of the world around you. A cool tingle slides down your neck as you walk, water breaking around you. 

You pause. It’s the same feeling that you get whenever you spend far too long in the woods and the sun goes down. It feels like there’s someone there with you, just at your back. Slowly, you turn to look over your shoulder but there’s no one there, just the warm press of something you can’t see. 

When it happened the first time, you’d been so afraid you ran home. Now, though, you smile and look down at the ground as you keep walking. The presence, whether it’s real or something you have made up in your head, is always comforting. Always there, a gentle press of feeling. 

There are candles burning in the windows and an owl hoots in greeting when your house appears. Inside, you kick off your shoes and rush to meet your parents at the silent dinner table. Both of them look up at you, your mother’s mouth pinched, eyes weary. Your father’s gaze is thunderous as he picks up cutlery and begins to cut into his potato in saw-like motions, his knuckles going white.

You sit down without a word, bow your head to pretend to pray. Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention. “It’s after dark. You missed your prayers.” 

It doesn’t matter. You weren’t going to pray anyway. But the way your parents look at you makes you drop your eyes down to the table, their expressions alarmed. Were you really about to pray after the sunset, when the benevolent gods were no longer listening? The only gods available to you now are dangerous. Violent. Tricky. 

Dinner is dry and too heavily salted. Still, you don’t complain. Somewhere in the world, you’re sure that there are wonderful feasts being held. Plates and platters of honey-glazed meats, roasted pheasant and charred filets. Whipped sweets and colorful confectionaries, dripping fruits and sugary drinks. 

None of those places exist anywhere that you’ve ever seen, but you like to imagine them as you chew your way through an oppressively silent meal. He says nothing, but you can tell your father is angry once again. Just as well, he at least keeps it to himself through the meal and says nothing when you’re done. 

“I’ll do the dishes,” you offer quickly when your parents finish. It’s an olive branch and they know it. They accept anyway, letting you gather plates as the soft hush of rain begins again. 

Rain washes out the night. You can’t see anything beyond the water that runs off the roof over the back porch as you dip your rag into warm water, scrubbing at the plates before setting them to dry in the stack next to you. 

Frogs croak, their loud voices blending together into the roar of the rain. Every now and again, lightning flashes above and thunder shakes the sky. You feel it vibrate through your ribs and you smile, inhaling the charged air. 

“... doesn’t have a choice!” You turn toward the open doorway. You can’t see your parents but the window is open to their room, voices coming in and out of the rain. “... force her! I’ve had… and he’s already agreed.”

You frown, stopping your scrubbing to lean further, straining your ears. “This won’t go well,” your mother says. 

“I don’t give a damn! It’s already done, woman. Enough.”

The rest of the conversation is drowned out by thunder. You frown and turn back to your task, trying to piece together what they’re talking about. You think back to your mother stitching the dress before dinner and think perhaps they’re gossiping about the neighbor again. She wasn’t happy that she was being married off and everyone knew it.

Still, she’s doing it. She’s stronger than you. It’s hard to imagine going through with something you don’t want, to live a life shackled to another person who doesn’t love you. Whose only purpose is to coexist with you and reproduce. To run a household and get through each and every day, the same as last.

It’s hard to say if your parents are in love. They are tender, at times, but you can’t ever point out a moment that your mother or father seem truly happy. Content isn’t the same as happiness. Not really. While they work together well and seem to have struck up a balance after the years, there’s nothing in the way they move through life that seems joyful. 

You had asked your mom if she was happy once. She gave you a funny look and said, I have a roof above my head and food on the table. How could I not be? 

Her response puzzles you still. To live is not to be happy. Being alive is just that - being alive. A bare minimum. But truly being happy is something else. At least, that’s how you understand it. How the heroes and characters in stories and tales live their lives, fighting for happiness. 

Later that night, you forget all about their whispers behind the sheets of rain. You’re tired and the storm is soothing, making you dream of a far away land where there are two armies entrenched in war, battling for their kingdoms and lighting the sky with storm magic. 

Another dream. Another fantasy. 

-

In your dream, a soft mouth meets yours. The kiss is slow, tongue dragging against yours, tasting of something sweet, mouth warm. It smells like clove and cinnamon, and though you don’t open your eyes to see the mouth that slides against yours, you know you are safe. 

-

It ends in darkness.

Dusk has settled around your home like a funeral shroud. Your father has been gone all day, your mother flippant when you ask about his whereabouts. Your mother is a painted picture of anxiety: mouth pinched, darting eyes that fail to meet yours, and hunched shoulders. It makes your palms sweat, the way she avoids you in the house. 

Rain comes down in patterns again, bands of storms floating by and turning the world gray. You don’t have to go to the inn with the road flooded, so you spend the day at the window instead, watching each storm flash by, listening to the frogs and watching the birds pick through bug-filled waters between each deluge. 

When the sun begins to set, you find your mother standing near the window, looking through wet glass as she chews the corner of her lip. She wipes her hands on her dress, not picking up that you’re standing in the doorway watching her.

The gown she has been stitching for the past few days lays on the table. It’s a beautiful thing, bursting with intricate flowers on the sleeves and the skirts. You don’t enjoy dresses - much less the kind for marriage - but you admire the careful needlework. 

“It’s a good dress,” you tell her. She startles from where she stands at the window, whirling around to face you. “One of your best.”

“Yes. I-” something crosses her face that’s unreadable. “Would you try it on for me? I want to make sure I got the sizing right.”

You shrug and pick it up. It’s not the first time she’s used you for sizing and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You just hope that she doesn’t make you stand on a stool for hours to place pins in the skirt, mapping where she needs to take in the seams and make the fabric fold. 

The material is a little scratchy when you put it on. It’s snug across the chest and a little bit long at the wrist, but the material ripples over you like water. Outside of your room, the sound of your father’s voice echoes. He sounds more jovial than usual, laughing loudly - another voice is with him. 

Frowning, you work the buttons on the side of the dress to secure it shut, pulling the fabric into place. It isn’t often that your father has guests over, but you can assume it’s one of his friends he has over for dinner. You make a sour face at the thought that perhaps it’s Mr. Laudermill and his son Nathaniel again, a family your father has tried to pawn you off on before. 

The list of people your father has tried to get you to marry is astounding. It’s become a joke in the town, a game of who will he ask next? At first, there were plenty of families who offered their sons to make the union. Now, after how vehemently you have protested for your right to pick your husband yourself, it’s you who is rejected when your father makes dowry offers.

It seems - much to your advantage - that the men of the town and even the neighboring villages grew tired of the girl who liked to say no. It gives you small satisfaction to know that sheer inconvenience has earned you freedom alongside your mother’s unwillingness to force you. 

Still, the Laudermills are a little persistent. Not your father’s favorite option he has ever brought up, but it was one that didn’t say no. 

You enter the main house with minor trepidation, uneager to spend the evening sighing at Nathaniel’s terrible jokes and attempts to win you over. You wonder if it’s sheer pride that brings him back this time, upset that he cannot beat the town's little conundrum. The unconquerable conquest. You get the feeling that’s why he and his father visit for dinner sometimes, Nathaniel’s pride unwilling to back down from the challenge. 

You’d respect him more if he had more admiration for the word no. 

Nathaniel and his father are in the main room of your home, speaking in laughing tones to your father. Your mother stands near the open back door, hands wringing together. There is another person in your house that you don’t expect, though. The village’s high priest nods his head along with something that your father is saying, wrinkled hands clasped in front of his robes.

Time seems to slow down. You take in the tight expression on your mother’s face, her eyes drifting over to the priest who is dressed in ceremonial purple robes, an air of professional courtesy about him. He’s nodding to Nathaniel who is speaking now, and it’s when you really look at him, dressed in nice linen pants, a long sleeved shirt and an ornate vest, that you put the pieces together. 

Too slowly do you react as your father turns to you. His smile is forced and his gaze is burning with warning when he gestures. “There’s our bride!”

The word sinks in like a blade. Right between the ribs and up, its point poking dangerous at your heart as your blood begins to roar in your ears. You’re frozen to the spot, staring at them from the threshold of your room. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck, your hands shaking. 

“You look beautiful,” Nathaniel says, grinning. It’s a genuine smile, a proud one. Something that says finally. “I’m so glad you’re ready, after all this time.”

“I… what?”

In a moment of razor-sharp clarity, you remember the conversation your parents were having last night, soft words whispered under the cover of the storm. You remember something about forcing her and someone having already agreed. 

No. No. Nonononononono. 

You don’t realize you’re speaking out loud as you back up into your room, the horror settling in as the rain begins to tap on the roof. Your mother looks crestfallen but remains silent as your father’s smile tightens and his face reddens. 

When he says your name, it’s full of warning. The back of your legs hit your bed and your weak knees buckle. You sit down with a huff and shake your head. “You can’t do this,” you whisper. You can’t find your voice, can’t work your throat louder. “You cannot make me marry.”

“Of course I can,” your father hisses. His smile drops and in its place is something dangerous. Horrific. The villain of all your dreams and epic fantasies. “I have given you more than enough time to choose. You have not. As the man of this house-”

“No!” you bark back, cutting him off and shooting to your feet. “I am a person-”

“You are a woman!” he roars, making the high priest flinch. “Your purpose is to grow up, get married, mind the household and provide an heir! You are the only fiendish woman in this entire forsaken village who seems to misunderstand this!”

“It is not my purpose!”

“It is, and you will fulfill it!” he hisses. “You will marry this man before the gods, with my blessing and the witness of the priest.” 

Behind you, thunder rolls. The rain comes down harder. Frogs croak loudly, bracketed by the sound of the trees bending with the weight of the wind. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the people before you. Your mother with tears in her eyes, your father with fury in his face, the priest with disappointment and Nathaniel. Nathaniel with glee. With a grin. With a smirk. 

“I won’t do it,” you whisper. 

Before they can argue, you turn on your heel and leap onto your bed. Your father and Nathaniel rush at the doorway, their steps pounding behind you as you crawl through the window, your ribs slamming on the sill as you lean face forward. Rain soaks you immediately, your hands gripping the sill as you haul your middle half over the edge, intending to just flip down into the mud. 

Hands yank at your legs and you scream, a feral sound ripping through your lungs as you kick backward violently. You’re yanked back toward your room viciously, rib cage aching where you slide on the concrete frame. With another savage kick, you make contact and hear a loud shout before the hands drop from your waist. 

Pushing harshly, you throw yourself the rest of the way through the window, falling the few feet down to land with a splash. Your father is screaming inside the house but you’re already slipping to your feet, whatever he says drowned out in the rain. 

You don’t even think. You run, hands picking up the wet-leaden skirts on your dress as you tear off toward the woods. Water rushes around your ankles as you go and you hear commotion at the window as someone clambers through. You don’t dare turn around as you rush to the line of trees, unafraid of the dark but terrified of the slamming footsteps behind you.

It’s impossible to be fast in the flooded woods. You wince as your feet get cut up on rocks and sharp sticks that you can’t see. You trip over roots and kick solid things as you slog forward, biting back a cry as you try to flee. 

“Get back here, you wretched bitch!” Nathaniel screams behind you. 

It never occurred to you that he could say something so violent. It spurs you forward, mud and water sucking your feet down and making your flight sticky and slow. Rain pelts down between the leaves, the storm lighting up the treetops with purple flashes every now and again. Thunder shakes their branches and rumbles through your feet, the water rushing higher and higher. 

Nathaniel slams into you at the waist. You scream as he takes you down, his weight on top of you. Your scream is cut off as your mouth fills with water. You swallow in a panic, body thrumming with alarm as you choke, nose full of water, eyes burning. You can hear the dull roar of water, the swish of your tangled limbs on the floor. 

Clawing at him, you feel your nails rip down soft flesh and hear a muted yell. He lifts his weight off of you and you sit forward, breaking the surface and gasping for air, retching. Your lungs and nose burn as you gasp for air, fighting to get a breath in. 

Nathaniel is on you again, his hand going for your hair as he digs his fingers in hard, yanking at your scalp. Your hands fly to his wrist and you scream again, pulling at him, trying to free yourself. Tears smart your eyes from the stinging pain as he yanks hard enough that you think he’ll tear you right apart. 

“Fucking ungrateful,” he barks.

Your feet slide in the mud as he uses your buoyancy in the knee deep water to haul you back toward the house. You twist in his grip, mewling in panic and pain as you work to get your feet under you and fight back. You let go of his arm and throw a weak punch at his ribs. He grunts but doesn’t let go, even as you twist, hands shooting to the ground, digging through soaked earth and weeds until you feel the hard, rough shape of a rock. 

Grabbing it, you lift your hand from the water and bring it down hard on Nathaniel’s wrist. He screams and lets go of your hair. Your fingers ache from the blow but you don’t waste precious minutes, scrambling to your feet and sloshing away from him again. He’s already gripping at your dress, fingers ripping at the fabric to get a hold of you. 

Desperation claws at you and you scream for help. You don’t know if anyone else is out here in the dark of the woods but you don’t care. Bleeding, in pain, and terrified, you tear through the water, the rock clutched in your fingers, rushing in the dark as Nathaniel gives chase.

“Please!” you scream at the dark. “Anyone, please!” 

A thread of thought slivers through you about the gods. Praying to the gods has never gotten you anywhere. It didn’t make your father let you read. It didn’t get you out of your town. It didn’t save you from this. The supposed gods who rule with light and love had never heard you and you had long stopped believing in them.

But you’d never prayed to the gods of the dark. The gods who only listen to words whispered after the setting sun. 

“Please,” you beg, turning your head to the dark sky. Lighting flashes and thunder rumbles. Cool wind brushes against your face, wind that feels like it whispers I’m listening. “Please,” you scream again. “Help me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Help me!”

Nathaniel takes you down by the waist again. You gasp for air this time as your face slaps the water with a sting. The current is rushing faster here, pulling at you. Deeper. Colder. You’re close to the river, and you feel the suction of the force of the flow tugging at your body as Nathaniel digs his fingers into the meat of your arms. 

This time, he doesn’t pull you with him. He holds you down, shoving you deeper and deeper until you realize that he’s no longer interested in bringing you back. You kick at him, you tear at him. You slam his wrist with the rock again but his other hand grabs yours, wrenching the weapon away from you. 

Your lungs are screaming and water is rushing into your nose as oxygen escapes you. His grip is firm and you begin to panic. All you can think is help help help help. Please help. 

Bubbles escape your mouth as you’re forced to breathe out again. You’re running out of time and pain starts to build in your chest. You feel the way your lungs squeeze, needing air. You let out more air and press your lips tight, desperately trying not to inhale. 

Breathe in, your instincts scream. Breathe breathe breathe breathe. 

Agony. You’re in agony as you open your mouth in a final cry, unable to form the words. Unable to scream and ask for a higher power that you only believe in at this moment to help you. 

Water fills your mouth. You swallow it whole, feel it go down as you begin to spasm. 

You’re going to die. 

And then Nathaniel’s hands are gone. It takes you a moment to realize that there’s no crushing grip on your arms and in the brief moment of realization, you barely manage to push up. To break the surface and vomit, water coming out of you in a stinging, horrid mess. Your stomach turns and you feel your chest squeeze as you choke.

The storm is still raging around you, water pulling at you and pressing you into the rough bark of a tree. Blinking tears from your eyes, you look around but it’s too dark to see. You can hear Nathaniel looking for you, screaming your name in the dark. 

The back of your neck tingles. There’s a feeling in the air behind you - that sliver of breath that you often sense when you’re out in the woods alone just after dark. Like something or someone is there with you, just behind you. 

“What is it you want?” a deep, dark voice whispers. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end and you feel chilled to the bone. The voice is like none you’ve ever heard, sensual and dizzying. 

“Want?”

“You asked for help.” The voice switches to your other ear and you don’t dare turn around to find the speaker. “What do you want?” 

“What can you give?”

The voice chuckles. The sound makes you shiver, your eyelids fluttering. The voice purrs, “I can give you anything you dream, little lamb. Tell me: what do you want?”

You think about it. Lightning lances through the sky and for a brief moment, the world is a flash of silver. You see Nathaniel in the light, a few feet away from you. He’s bloody and heaving, his eyes snapping to where you hide against the tree.

“Freedom,” you gasp as the world falls to darkness again. “I want freedom.”

“What will you give me?”

“What do you want?” you beg, hearing Nathaniel move toward you.

There’s a soft hum and you feel lightheaded at the sound. “Your time.”

“My time?”

“Your time in exchange for freedom, little lamb. Better hurry, this offer is about to expire.” 

Nathaniel screams in a rage. Sloshes closer to you. Your heartbeat quickens. You can feel it in your chest, hear it in your ears, your pulse throbbing as he nears. 

“Okay,” you whisper, voice coming out shaky. 

“Then tell me you accept.”

You take a deep breath. “I accept.” 

There’s a brush at the nape of your neck, warm and soft. Though you’ve never been kissed before, you think that it’s the press of lips, intimate and barely there. Something inside you flickers to life, like a new instinct that has opened its eyes for the first time. You’re aware of another presence, a soft buzz that presses down on you as it stands up next to you. 

Thunder rolls and you feel someone brush by you.  A hand touches your cheek almost fondly, fingers dragging along the curve of your jaw. Blinking slowly, you lean into the touch, seeking its comfort. You don’t know who it belongs to. All you know is that just the feel of fingers on your skin has your stomach flipping, your toes curling. 

The hand drops from your face and you immediately miss the contact. Opening your eyes, you see another flash of lightning. There’s someone standing in front of you dressed in black, slick with rain. You can’t make out anything much, just the shape of a man in a dark cloak. 

A god. You know he’s a god, whoever this savior is. You know that something has heard your screams in the dark and has come to give you what you wanted. What you begged for. 

“She is no longer available to you,” the god announces to Nathaniel. It’s not the same whisper as a moment ago, but a deep, raspy voice. Dark. Demanding. “She’s mine.” 

“That’s my betrothed,” Nathaniel answers, though it comes out like a question, his voice trembling. “I– she belongs to-”

“Me,” the dark god assures. A loud clap of thunder makes you flinch. “Goodbye, Nathaniel Laudermill.” 

Nathaniel screams. You don’t know what happens. There’s just his shout of terror in the dark and a roll of thunder that shakes the trees and rattles the earth. You feel the vibration in the water from the unearthly thunder before you realize that this sound, this trembling, is the wrath of a god. 

The sound fades and the shaking stops. You feel more than see the god in front of you turn to face you, a sweeping warmth as he bends down. You cannot make out any features, your vision swimming with bursts of color in the lack of light. 

“You’re with me now,” he assures you. “And you should not be afraid.” 

Gentle hands reach out and cradle your face. You’re suddenly tired, every pain in your body weighing you down like stones, pulling at you until you’re closing your eyes and succumbing to the heavy exhaustion.

The last thing you remember is your whispered name on reverent lips. 

-

You’re dreaming. Your eyes are closed in this dream but you feel light and warm. Fingers brush over your cheek, soft and reverent. You hear a gentle, deep humming, a pleasant melody. It smells like clove and cinnamon, making you drift further into the dream. You lean into the hand cupping your face and hear a deep chuckle before drifting off into nothingness. 

-

The first thing you notice is the smell of clove and cinnamon. It’s a soothing scent that sends your heart fluttering as you roll over. The blankets wrapped around you feel divine, soft with a high loft that feels like you’re wrapped in clouds. The mattress is decadent, sucking you in further as you settle in on your side, inhaling deeply.

Then you remember hands tearing at your legs. Ripping you by the hair. Water filling your lungs and throat. The flash of lightning and the cold rain as you were dragged under a flood again and again. 

With a gasp you sit up in bed, heart hammering. You still as you look around, mouth dropping open at the opulent room. The bed is the largest thing you’ve ever seen, on a low platform swimming with charcoal colored sheets and pillows. The headboard looks like polished obsidian, glinting in the low light provided by dozens of flickering candles.

Stone walls make up the room, rough rock with sconces of flickering flames. The room is sprawling with a sitting area a step down from the bed, decorated with chaise lounges, a coffee table and high-backed chairs situated in front of a fireplace. Flames crackle on a log, orange light dancing across the room. On either side of the fireplace are bookshelves that stretch up to the high ceiling.

Across from the bed are open double doors where you can see a magnificent bathroom. From your vantage point, you can just make out sinks carved from a hewn rock and what looks like a trickling waterfall sluicing down the wall. 

Turning to the left, there is a set of glass doors, a balcony just on the other side. It appears to be nighttime outside, thousands of stars glittering through the glass and the largest moon you’ve ever seen suspended in the sky like a lone coin.

Carefully, you peel back the covers. You’re still in the wedding dress your mother made you. It’s stained and tattered and bloodied, making your stomach flip uncomfortably as you look down on it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you place your feet on the stone flooring, expecting it to be cold to the touch. 

It isn’t. Warmth radiates from the floor through the soles of your feet, making you sigh, tension bleeding from your shoulders as you close your eyes for a moment. Though the aches and the pains from being scratched and hit and torn down are gone, you wince as you recall them. 

Your parents were going to force you to marry Nathaniel. You don’t know how you missed the signs before, how you thought that there was any other path. With your elbows pressed to your knees, you hang your head in your hands, pressing your eyes shut and taking another shuddering breath.

This time, a sob slips out. Somehow, you had tricked yourself into thinking that your parents would abide by your wishes to make your own choices. Foolish, you realize. Your father had not grown complacent. He had been biding his time, waiting to strike. 

The smallest viper has the greatest sting.

And your mother was going to let him do it. The woman who had brought you into the world screaming and bloody was going to pass you off to a man, even if it meant that man dragged you kicking and screaming to the altar. 

Disgust curls in your stomach and your hands turn into firsts, pressing against your closed lids and making bursts of colors flash in your eyes. Split down the middle, one part of you mourns the loss of the parents you thought that you had. The other is an open wound, festering with a hateful infection at the very thought of them. 

The sound of the door opening catches your attention. Your heart leaps as you sit up straight, dropping your hands into your lap as a man slips through the large double doors near the sitting area. Your breath catches in your chest as he sweeps into the room, looping his hands behind his back as he sets his dark eyes on you and approaches. 

He’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen, you think. Inky hair falls into his enigmatic eyes. His skin is deep gold, a contrast to the all-black blouse that he wears tucked into black pants. You see the open collar of his shirt revealing a patch of tan skin and an elegant throat, but it’s his face that shatters your mind. 

The man - or god, you think - has a square, masculine jaw offset with a delicate mouth the color of rose petals. His nose is straight and wide and would look ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it’s the perfect balance, his cheekbones high and angular, cutting the roundness of his nose. 

“Good to see you’re awake,” he greets. The man stops at the edge of the step that leads to where the bed sits higher than the rest of the room. You stare and stare and stare at him, unable to process words as he grins at you. His voice is dulcet and warm, but not the voice that promised to save you. “How do you feel?”

“I…” you rasp out and you shake your head, unable to think of anything else.

His mouth quirks and he nods. “It sounds like you had a terrible time. How about you take a well-deserved bath and get out of that terrible dress? Sorry to have left you in it, I was under strict instructions not to invade your personal space.”

“Yes, please.” You hesitate. “Where am I? Whose instructions?”

“You’re somewhere safe with someone who wants you to remain safe.” 

“Where is safe?”

He gives you a secretive smile as he nods toward the bathroom before turning on his heel and striding away. On unsteady feet, you follow him. It helps that the floor is warm, giving you the strength you need to make it down the two steps and across the stone toward the bathroom. 

“I don’t think I’m the right person to answer your question,” he admits. “I’m just here to help you get settled. My name is Taehyung, by the way.”

“Taehyung.” You say the word, familiarizing yourself with the shape of it as you enter the room and stop. 

The bathroom is far more luxurious than you realized from afar. There is a waterfall running down the black rockface between two basins, trickling into a little fountain that drains on the floor. To the right side of the bathroom is a large body of steaming water. 

Herbal scents fill the room as you near the edge of the dark surface of the water. It reminds you of hot springs in a cave near the southern villages, a place you’d only heard of but never seen. It’s massive, surrounded by a smooth, stone edge. There is a corner full of what appears to be salts, soaps and herbs alongside flickering candles. 

Opposite the hot spring is a giant glass window that overlooks mountains and lush greenery. From the window, you can see the entire world of wherever you are stretched out in the most dazzling and wonderful display. You can’t help but feel as though you’re somewhere that belongs in the epitome of night.

“How deep is that?” you ask, turning to Taehyung with a wary expression as you gesture to the body of water. 

His expression softens. “Waist high when you stand in the middle. There is a ledge that you can sit on all the way around. It’s incredibly safe and very warm. I can stand just outside the door if anything goes wrong.”

“Okay.” 

Taehyung points to a stack of clothes resting on a stool near a cabinet full of towels and jars of things. “Those are for you to change into. The towels are for you to dry off, of course. Anything in the bathroom is yours to use.” Taehyung must sense your hesitation, because he gives you a soft smile. “You’re safe here. I promise.” 

“I’d feel better if I knew where here was.”

“Bathe. Relax. Then I’ll take you to him.” 

Taehyung does not give you a chance to ask to whom he refers. He strides out of the room and the door swings shut seemingly on its own. You blink a few times at it, standing in the middle of the warm bathroom in a daze.

Spinning, you look around the room and find yourself drawn to the window. Up close, you realize how high up you are. It’s a bit dizzying, and you look  down at the ground only to see that there is a garden bursting with purple and blue, neat rows of flowers that stretch until they meet a line of trees. 

A world of mountains unfolds beyond the window. You’ve never seen mountains but they are larger than you could have ever imagined, snowcaps stark against the night sky. It’s mesmerizing and a little too big, so you turn away from the window and head for the steaming basin of water. 

Peaking over the edge, you can see the bottom. It doesn’t look that deep, but your stomach twists as you pop the buttons on your dress. Your fingers feel stiff and disjointed as you work to undress. You look down at the ripped threads and the dirty fabric and think about how much time your mother spent stitching it.

Suddenly the dress feels suffocating and you pull hard on the garment, popping buttons from the threads and sending them clattering on the floor. You shed the dress and kick it away from you, stripping off your undergarments and lowering yourself to the edge of the water. 

A sigh leaves your mouth as you slide your feet and legs in first. The water is hot, though not scalding like you expected. Closing your eyes, you remain sitting on the edge for a moment, letting your calves soak and muscles unwind, fingers gripping the edge tight. 

Taking a deep breath, you slide forward a little, firmly placing your feet on the ledge Taehyung spoke of. For a moment, your fear spikes. You feel it sharp in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the basin. With a few deep breaths, you carefully slide down to the ledge proper, sinking in the hot water to the chest. 

“I’m not going to drown,” you whisper to yourself. The words come out shaky and you’re not entirely sure that you believe them. “I’m not going to drown, I am not going to drown, I am not going to drown.”

You repeat the mantra until you believe it, your fingers grasping the edge of the stone seat as you try to relax and melt into the water. It takes a while, but you finally grow too tired of remaining tense, taking a deep breath and gaining the courage to relax. 

Gently, you rest your head against the edge of the basin. Heat seeps into your skin and you feel the anxiety bleed out of you, your tensed muscles unwinding. You hadn’t realized how clenched up you were until you let go, and your body sags a little bit in the water. 

Time slips away. Thankfully, your body doesn’t hurt the way you anticipated that it would. Frowning, you press your fingers into your skin where there should be bruises and pain. There is no evidence on your skin that Nathaniel laid his hands on you the night before - the day before? You’re unsure how much time has passed, only that there is an eerie absence of your wounds.

Turning your head, you look at your dress discarded on the floor. There’s certainly evidence of a struggle spattered all over the fabric, but it makes you wonder if the god who answered your prayers has healed you.

A god. 

The thought comes to you in a snap and you stare down at the water, eyes unfocusing as you try to recall the details of what happened. You remember screaming for help, the sound of your desperation ripping through your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever screamed like that, terrified and wild. You remember thinking about the gods, begging them to hear you, willing them to listen. 

Water had been filling your lungs. Crushing out air. You remember the rush of the stream around you as it pulled at your fighting body. Nathaniel’s hands gripping you and holding you under viciously, fingers like claws as he tried to drown you. 

Then you surfaced and choked, completely shrouded in darkness…. And you remember that quiet voice made of smoke and shadow. Thinking of it now makes you shiver, despite how hot the water is. The voice had promised you freedom in exchange for time and had taken you to wherever this place was. 

You open your eyes, unsure when you had even closed them. Glancing around the room once more, you decide there is no way that you’re anywhere close to home. You’ve never seen anything like this bathroom before, a feat of what appears to be architecture and maybe magic. 

Soaps and salts line the edges of the bathing pool. When you feel brave enough, you dart across the middle like a minnow, trying not to think about how you nearly crossed death’s bridge in a shallow body of water not long ago. 

Unscrewing lids, you smell each of the glass bottles of liquid, humming in delight. You settle on a hard bar of soap that smells like lavender and mint. It feels good to scrub your skin raw. You imagine that you’re washing away all of the memories of Nathaniel’s fingers on your skin and the scratchy dress your mother made for you.

Fingers and feet pruned and skin feeling stripped of a top layer, you reluctantly exit the bath. The towels are the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You run the fabric between your fingers, tilting your head up at the sky and sighing. Wherever this dark god has taken you doesn’t seem so terrifying, yet it puts you more on edge, these luxuries. 

The clothes Taehyung left out for you fit well enough, though it’s obvious they are not your exact measurements. He’s provided you with soft, black pants and a loose, black tunic with intricate designs that look like clouds on the sleeves and collar. 

You hesitate when you’re ready to leave the bathroom. So far, it seems that whatever bargain you’ve struck with this god has been in your favor. But you know you’ve made a deal in a moment of fear, and you’re not entirely sure what you’ve agreed to.

Time.

Though you’re nervous, you can’t stay hidden in the bathroom forever. Nudging the door open, you peek around the edge, gaze sweeping the room as you look for Taehyung. He’s standing in the sitting area, face toward the flickering fire. He looks both terrifying and beautiful, hands linked behind his back as he watches the flames. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Taehyung calls without turning around. “I mean it when I tell you that you’re safe.”

Slipping through the door, you walk toward him, regarding him warily. “Still,” you answer. “I don’t know where I am. Are you even human?”

He does look over his shoulder then, flashing you a wicked grin. “I’m not.” 

Taehyung’s answer doesn’t put you at ease, but you’re unsure what to do. Wordlessly, he gestures for you to follow him as he heads through the door and out of the room. For a moment, you hesitate. What would happen if you refused to leave the room? Is your deal with the god already in effect? What are its limitations? 

You can answer none of the questions you have, so you follow Taehyung, hoping to find answers soon. Except as soon as you step out of the room, you think you might have even more questions. 

The halls are dark and lit with flickering torches, casting an orange glow up to the cavernous ceilings. Though you’ve never been in a castle or seen one, you have an idea of how grand they are. There is no doubt in your mind that this is a castle, the halls resplendent and sweeping with artwork and fabric and statues. 

In front of you, Taehyung walks jovially with his hands linked behind his back. He hums a tune you don’t know, but it sounds smooth and warm. You follow behind him, casting your gaze around as you walk, trying to remember which turns you take and what paintings you pass. 

You reach a tall, closed set of wooden double doors. Taehyung raps his fingers against the door, looking over his shoulder at you with an excited grin. Your stomach flips and you wipe your palms against the bottom of your tunic. Your hands feel shaky and you twine them into the fabric, willing them to stop. 

Taehyung must hear someone on the other side of the door, because he opens it and steps in and to the side, gesturing for you to enter. You take a deep breath and walk by him into the room, stopping immediately as you look up, your mouth falling open. 

It’s a library grander than you could ever imagine. Your town had quite a small library at the church that belonged to the high priest, but this is something beyond your wildest dreams. The ceiling stretches higher than your imagination, filled with floating lights and stars - the entire night sky is stretched above you in swirling constellations of purple and blue. 

Three floors make up the library, each lined with books and windows that look out into the evening. You can see sprawling gardens beyond the tinted glass, but it’s the shelves of books that catch your attention. Stepping into the room further, you slowly spin, looking at the sheer amount of volumes that line the walls. There are multiple seating areas with rich, velvet blue armchairs and couches, tables full of books and papers and ink bottles and maps. 

Your throat tightens as you look at Taehyung, your mouth wobbling. The urge to burst into tears has never felt greater than this moment. You never imagined that you could stand in a room with so many books, and the desire to pull one off the shelf and delve in is cut short by the single, glaring fact that you don’t know how to read them. 

Distracted by the books upon entry, it takes you a moment to notice another presence in the room. You feel a tingle at the back of your neck, one that draws your eyes toward a long table near the fireplace. It’s the same feeling you had when you were saved from Nathaniel, an awareness that buzzes along your skin.

A man stands in front of the table, watching you with dark, feline eyes. He’s beautiful. Otherworldly, really. His round features remind you of the moon, but it’s the sharp eyes and the careful pout of his mouth that draws you in. He looks both delicate and dangerous, and you notice the quirk on his lips as he watches you watch him. 

He’s in all black. Black pants tucked into black, knee-high boots, and a black, long-sleeved shirt. There’s a layer of necklaces around his neck and you can see shapes and runes that are unfamiliar to you. The same runes and shapes are on the rings on his long, delicate fingers, folded in front of him. 

This is the face of a god. You know it in the way that there’s something ancient in his eyes and in the way he glows from within. His power is tangible, a crackling energy pressing up against every nerve in your body. 

“How are you feeling?” his voice vibrates right to your core. Soft and dark like you remember it, though a little rougher now. Gravelly. He studies you, unmoving. “Hopefully well-rested?”

“I feel…. Better.” Finding the words is hard in his presence, especially under the scrutiny of his gaze. You want to dart out of the room and hide, but you also don’t want to leave the library without exploring. “I think I should thank you?”

It comes out as a question and he smirks a little. Your stomach flutters at the sight; he raises a brow. “You’re welcome. Are you hungry? You’ve been asleep for nearly a day.”

The door shuts behind you and you startle, whirling around to see that Taehyung has left you. Your nerves fray further and you turn back to look at the god watching you. Behind him on the table, you realize it is a feast of sorts. Roasted meats and poultry, platters of fruit, plates of cheese and neatly arranged crackers, steaming pans of vegetables and things you cannot identify. 

He notices. “You must be starving. Come. Eat.” When you don’t move, he sighs. “I didn’t save you just to harm you.” 

It’s true enough. You carefully approach the table, eyeing him as he unclasps his hands and pulls out a chair for you. When you hesitate, he arches a dark brow again and you feel yourself grow warm in the face, muttering your thanks as you hurry over to the chair and sit down. 

The god’s presence is buzzing. He doesn’t touch you, but it’s like you feel him anyway, just an inch away from you. He helps you slide your chair in and gives a deep, contented sigh before he moves toward the opposite end of the table, taking the dull hum of energy with him. 

Across the table, he sits. His gaze finds yours again as you stare at him, finding it difficult to look anywhere else. Even with the smell of a divine meal, your attention on him is a fixed point. If this bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, casual and confident. 

“Have what you like,” he offers. “I don’t know what you enjoy and I didn’t want to pry.”

The table is full of options. You chew the inside of your cheek. There is glazed duck and roasted ham, creamy looking potatoes and sauced vegetables. Your stomach growls and twists painfully as you stare at your choices. 

“The duck is good,” he offers gently. You glance up. He nods towards the dish in question. “Sorry, it’s probably overwhelming.”

“A little,” you answer, but take him up on his advice and go for the duck. “Where are we?”

“In between.”

You frown as you plate different foods, fingers sticky as you do. You’re hyper-aware of him watching you and you try not to look up, feeling your hands quake as you add roasted veggies to your plate. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it does. We’re at the in-between of all things. Not a solid place in your sense of understanding. It’s not a physical manifestation of a land mass, but it is a world that contains physical things.” 

“A… dimension?”

“Exactly. This is my domain.”

“And what… are you?”

You look up at him then. His lips twitch at the corners and he tongues the inside of his cheek. “A god. But you already knew that.”

“Wanted to hear you say it.” 

Silence falls between you as you pick up a knife and fork, cutting carefully into your meat. You pop it between your lips, sighing when the duck melts on your tongue with the taste of honey and something else. You sag in the chair, not realizing until now how tense you had been to this point. The food sends a wave of warmth through you and the god watches as you take a few bites, patient as you eat.

“This is fantastic,” you say, glancing at him as you reach for a glass of water. “The flavors are like nothing I’ve ever had.”

“I assure you that all things here are like nothing you’ve ever had.” You hum in agreement, taking another eager bite. You cannot imagine anything in the real world tasting this succulent. You almost wonder if perhaps this is all a dream. “You didn’t pray before you began to eat.”

Your chewing pauses. He’s bemused, giving you a sideways grin with his brows raised. You swallow thickly and say, “Praying never got me anywhere until recently. Why did you help me?”

“Because you asked.”

“You didn’t have to, though.”

It isn’t a question. He answers anyway. “I didn’t.”

“So why did you? The other gods have never helped me.”

“The other gods aren’t me.” His voice is soft and lethal, raising the hair on your arms. “We are not all the same, and you’d do well to not make any further comparisons moving forward.” 

You lower your gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Gods are fickle beings. We are quick to offend and slow to let go. You don’t know any better and are thus forgiven.” 

“What do I call you?”

For a moment, he hesitates. You think he isn’t going to answer just as he says, “Yoongi. You can call me Yoongi.”

“Is that your name?” 

“It’s one of them.” 

“How many names do you have?”

He chuckles. It’s a delightful sound and you smile, watching him lean his head back against his chair, looking up as he shrugs. “How much time do you have?”

Time. 

Suddenly, you remember that you aren’t here on this god - Yoongi’s - good graces. You’re here because you called for someone in a moment of need and he agreed to help you, but at a cost. Your time. He had asked for your time, and a sense of anxiety tiptoes its way up your spine as you think about the ambiguity of his deal. 

Swallowing harshly, you shift back in your seat. The food in your stomach feels a little heavy, far too rich for you to eat more than a few bites. You’ve only ever known your parents’ staples of meat, bread, cheese, and root vegetables. 

“When you saved me,” you begin. “You made a deal with me.”

“I did.”

“My freedom in exchange for my time.”

His eyes are glittering as he watches you, completely still. The fireplace next to you crackles. It makes shadows dance across his face, giving him the appearance of something wild and untamed. Your heartbeat quickens as you watch him, this godly being, as he stares you down. 

“That was the deal,” he finally hums. His head cocks to the side a little. “I don’t usually discuss business over dinner.”

“I’m done eating.”

He huffs but doesn’t seem annoyed. “Perhaps tea, then? It will help settle your stomach.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know that my stomach needs settling?” 

“I know a lot of things.” Yoongi rises and gestures to the chairs directly in front of the fireplace. You stand, following his lead. There’s a quiver of energy in the air and you pause, turning to look back at the table to see it’s completely bare, no trace of anything left. You whip around to look at Yoongi as he sits in a wingback chair. “I can do a lot of things.”

A steaming cup of tea sits on a wooden table next to the chair you sink into. The cushions are soft, swallowing you in and making your muscles melt. The cup is warm when you pick it up, steam curling off the surface. Sniffing, your eyes flutter as you inhale the smell of mint. 

“What are you the god of?” You open your eyes and look at him. Both of his feet are planted flat on the floor, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. He looks a little stiff, more so than he did at dinner. Orange firelight reflects in his inky eyes. “You’re a god of the dark.” 

“There’s no such thing,” he scoffs, and you frown. “Your concept of gods is skewed. There is neither good nor evil, light nor dark. There are just gods.” 

“So it doesn’t matter who you pray to?”

“We don’t need your patronage. If we did, we wouldn’t be gods, would we?” You’d never thought of it that way. You sip your tea, letting the warmth and sharp mint bloom in your mouth. “We’re beyond the simple classification that mortals use to understand and organize what they think our intentions are. I have been classed as both good and evil, light and dark, benevolent and malevolent.”

“But surely there are things that are inherently evil, even among the gods.”

“Of course there isn’t. Evil is a point of view. It is a word used to define the feeling one has when the opposite of their desire occurs.” 

“I… guess that makes sense. But isn’t something like murder wrong?”

“Are you not the villain of the duck you ate today?” You blanch. Yoongi looks smug as he gestures vaguely with his hands. “Are you not evil for calling down the wrath of a god on Nathaniel Laudermill?”

“He was going to kill me.”

“You rejected his hand in marriage. You did the opposite of what he desired. I believe in his eyes, you are the evil. Is Death evil for doing what he was made to do?” 

Yoongi’s words make your head spin. You gulp a mouthful of scalding tea before setting it on the table next to you, your mind reeling. The realization that you’re sitting in a library with a starry ceiling arguing over morals and the concept of evil with a god who has saved you from certain death makes you giggle. 

He seems surprised by your sudden outburst, raising his brows as you cover your mouth, your fingers pressed to your lips as you try to contain your sudden mirth. “Sorry. This seems absolutely insane. I’m arguing over the word ‘evil’ with a god in a realm that is everywhere and nowhere at all. It feels like perhaps I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not. Though your dreams are dizzying and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You should be proud of them.” You furrow your brows. How does he know what you dream of? Before you can ask him to clarify, Yoongi says, “You wanted to discuss the deal.”

“Oh. Right. What did you mean by wanting my time in exchange for my freedom?”

“It’s simple. I want you to spend two weeks each month here.” 

Yoongi’s words sink in as you look at the window behind him. Outside, the world is sinking into what you think might be night. The sky is swimming with stars and constellations, stuck in a perpetual twilight of sorts. You’re reminded that somehow, Yoongi is like the moon and the night itself, especially when you find his dark gaze on you as he waits for your response. 

“Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company.” 

“That’s it? You just want me to hang out in exchange for saving me?” He nods. “That seems too easy.” 

His lips curve upward. “Maybe I’m very annoying.” 

For some reason you think it might not be true. You think of all the things that you’ve heard about the gods. Yoongi tells you that everything you know about them is wrong, but you know that the gods of the dark are tricksters. They are experts in the art of luring mortals in, and you wonder if that’s what he’s doing now. 

“Does it have to be consecutive weeks?” you ask, trying to bide time to collect your thoughts and work out his intentions. “Or can it be a collective?”

“Consecutive.” 

“What… what happens when I go home? With my family.”

Yoongi’s face grows stormy. You shift in your seat. “You’re under my protection,” he says after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll bear a mark that protects you. No one will force their will upon you again.”

“Can you?”

He shakes his head, long hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He looks haunting in the firelight, but beautiful. You avert your gaze, fixating on the books in the room instead. “You have my word, I will never control you. I promised you freedom, that includes me.” 

“But I have to be here. I can’t escape from that. Is that freedom?”

“You made that decision of your own free will. It’s your words that bind you here, not mine. While you’re here, you are able to do whatever it is you desire. In fact, I encourage it.” 

“Wording is really important to you, isn’t it?”

He chuckles and inclines his head, fingers tapping the arm of his chair. “It is. Consider the first day of your deal already spent. You slept most of it off while you healed.” Yoongi stands, drawing your attention to him. “Sleep more,” he insists gently. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a tour.”

The thought of a tour - and seeing Yoongi for more days - thrills you. Taehyung appears at the doorway as Yoongi escorts you out. He wishes you goodnight and lets Taehyung take you back to your room, though you feel his gaze and presence as you leave. 

It isn’t until you’re back in your room that you realize you never asked Yoongi how long your deal is supposed to last. It occurs to you that while he has given you a sort of freedom, perhaps he has taken something from you after all. 

-

Tall trees surround you. Above them, you can make out a swirling sky of stars and planets and several moons, so bright that it turns the forest a shade of blue. The woods around you are familiar, and there’s a well-walked path just ahead of you that leads to the river by your home. You’ve walked among these trees and creatures hundreds of times, but never with a sky like this.

Crickets chirp as you walk through the woods now. Grass tickles your bare feet, the earth soft and damp beneath you. It smells like fresh rain, but there’s no flood or mud as you navigate by instinct. 

It’s peaceful out here. How many times have you come here to escape your father’s rage? How many times have you sat, back pressed against a tree, watching the light fade from the world until it was too dark to see where you were going? You always managed to get home safely, even with the lack of light. 

The river rushes a few yards ahead. You pick a spot to sit and watch, beneath the cover of leaves. The sound of running water and the smell of rain on the wind lulls you into a trance and you close your eyes, resting for a while. 

Here is where you find peace. Where you dream. 

Awareness creeps up on you and you open your eyes, looking upward as you sense someone approaching. Yoongi stands next to you, onyx eyes gazing at the river. He’s in black clothes like before, his hands tucked into his pockets. You smell clove and cinnamon, making you dizzy. Power radiates off of him but it feels warm and safe. Like the night air itself comes from his existence. 

“Am I dreaming?” you ask him. He looks down at you, an obsidian strand of hair falling in his face. He nods, giving you a gentle smile. “This is often where I go to dream.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer you. He looks back to the rushing river, his face becoming unreadable. He looks like he’s somewhere far away, lost in his thoughts. Absently, he says, “Your dreams are my favorite.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are bright, full of life and color and sound. You dream the way people create art, the way people create worlds. It is rare to see such magnificence among the sleeping.” 

“I just…” you shrug. “Think of places I would rather be.” 

Yoongi looks at you then and his face is shadowed, full of thunder. “You’ll never be forced to live that life again.” 

“Do you promise?” 

He opens and closes his mouth, narrowing his eyes a little before shaking his head. You feel a smile tug at your mouth, endeared by his microexpressions. “Yes, little lamb. I promise.”

-

You wake with a start, sitting up in bed and looking around. The room spins as your brain tries to catch up with your body, your physical and mental awareness completely out of sync as you swivel your head, drinking in the unfamiliar room and the soft sheets that smell like clove and cinnamon. 

For a moment, you forget where you are, and adrenaline surges through you. Your fingers twist in the sheets as you ground yourself, memories from the day before slotting into place. Letting out a long exhale, you relax, flopping backward in the opulent bed, your heart rate slowing down as your panic bleeds out of you. 

You’re in Yoongi’s home. In a place that is somewhere in between - whatever that means. The god has told you on multiple occasions that you’re safe and have nothing to fear from him and for some reason…. You believe him. Maybe it’s naive, but you can’t erase the feeling that Yoongi is being honest with you, that he has good intentions. 

Perhaps it’ll get you into trouble one day. For now, you cast off doubt and peel yourself out of bed, trailing to the windowed doors that lead to the balcony beyond. You try the handle and are delighted to find them unlocked. Slipping through the doors, you’re met with warm, balmy air. It smells like petrichor, the breeze kissing your skin gently.

Like before, the world seems wrapped in permanent twilight. There is no sun in the sky, but a vast stretch of swimming stars and the largest moon you’ve ever seen. In the distance, dark mountains loom over you, their peaks capped in snow and wreathed in mist. 

Forest stretches out toward them in a vibrant shade of green. There’s a settee on the balcony along with a table and chairs. Leaning on the stone railing, you look down to see colorful gardens and a large pond full of vibrant fish.

All of the radiance makes you smile. You’ve never seen colors so rich, and you’re unable to recall if your world was this vibrant. The garden below is bursting with violet and cerulean, the flowers unfamiliar to you. Their fragrant smell wafts up to the balcony, a hint of sweetness in the air. 

A roll of thunder catches your attention. You look to the east, noticing that one of the mountains in the distance is darker than the others. Lightning crackles in the sky around it and the mist is heavier there. You think the trees are darker too, though you can’t tell if they’re gray or if it’s the shade from the swollen thunderheads drifting over them. 

Behind you, the door to the balcony opens and startles you. Whirling around, you find Taehyung leaning against the frame, mouth curved upwards in a sideways grin. “When you didn’t answer the door I got worried.”

“I thought I was safe here? What is there to be worried about?”

He shrugs. “Maybe you took a dive off of the balcony.”

“What is that place?” you point to the thundering, shrouded mountain. Taehyung looks where you point, his smile dropping as he stares at the looming peak. “By the look on your face, somewhere bad.”

“Bad is a relative term.” 

You scrunch your nose. “You sound like Yoongi.”

“Already familiar, are we? Cute.” He pushes off the door frame and beckons you inside. “Ask Yoongi about it on your tour.”

“Are you not coming along?”

“I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not give tours.”

If it weren’t for Taehyung’s playful tone and glint in his eye when he casts you a glance, you’d think you were bothering him. Instead of getting angry, he drapes himself on one of the couches by the fireplace, long legs dangling off the arm as he lounges.

Today, he’s in charcoal colored pants and a red, billowing shirt that shows off the smooth, tan skin of his chest. A dangling earring catches your attention as he leans his head back, silky hair shifting. If Yoongi is made of moonlight, you think that Taehyung might be made of sunlight: golden skin, warm energy. 

“By all means,” you mutter. “Hang out.” 

“This is my home first, human. I shall do as I please.”

You make a sound at the back of your throat and roll your eyes, walking toward a large, polished wardrobe made from dark wood. It smells like fresh cedar when you pull on the brass handle, opening the door to reveal tunics and dresses, all hung neatly. 

Rich silks, velvets and cottons greet you. You run your hand over the materials, amazed at how soft they feel. They are far better quality than your mother ever had access to. Your heart squeezes when you think of her, and you shake your head a little as if to physically dispel thoughts of your family out of your mind.

Facing them seems like an impossible task. You know that you’ll have to eventually. Two weeks with Yoongi in this strange world seems like a long time, but you’re not sure if it’s nearly long enough to mentally prepare to go back and face them after what’s happened. Will they still be angry? What will they say? Will they have been worried about you all this time?

There’s no way to know the answer. So instead, you pretend none of that exists. For once, you have stumbled into a dream and adventure like you’ve always wanted, and you intend on playing the part. 

An emerald shirt catches your eye. It’s made of a silky material, supple when you rub the sleeve between your fingers. It’s plain, save for the laced string at the throat to cinch and tie it off. You grab a pair of black, cotton pants as well, the fabric just as soft as the sheets in your bed. 

With Taehyung humming on the couch, you let yourself into the bathroom to change. You appreciate that the floor is warm wherever you go barefoot, and you quickly slide out of your clothes from the previous day and into the new ones. The measurements are a little off, but more than manageable as you pull the tie closed at your throat. Glancing into the mirror, you can’t help but smile a little.

You look so different. The shirt belongs to someone adventurous, you think. Perhaps a pirate or a huntress riding atop her horse through the woods. You slide your fingers along the material, its softness inviting and magical. 

Two weeks. You’ll be here for two weeks with Yoongi, a god who has been alive for hundreds of years, if your conversation from the night before was anything to go off of. It feels surreal and you’re a little nervous, but more than that, you’re excited.

Suddenly, the world is full of possibilities. No marriage to tie you down, no power held in your parents’ hands. 

 “Gods you’re slow to get dressed,” Taehyung announces when you enter the room. He sits up, appraising your outfit. “Green looks good on you.”

“How many are there?” he cocks his head at your question, peeling himself from the seat. “Gods and goddesses, I mean.”

“Pfft. Hundreds.”

“Hundreds?” 

“Maybe thousands, I don’t really know. There’s basically an infinite amount of universes. All anyone mostly cares about are the Eternals, the gods who remain the same no matter what name or history mortals assign to them.”

“Eternals?”

“Mhmm.” Taehyung leads you into the hallway. His hands are tucked into his pockets as he strolls leisurely. You follow beside him eagerly, looking up as he seems thoughtful. “Gods are hard to define. They are great beings with massive power. Some gods do the same thing, some don’t. They come from the infinite amount of worlds to which they are native, and somehow make it into mortal history. But the Eternals have always been here, always known. They do not change.”

“Who are the Eternals?”

“Life, death, chaos, time, pathos, dream and fate.” He makes a face then. “Fate and chaos are hard. They work in direct opposition to one another. It drives time insane, naturally.”

Seven Eternals. It makes sense, from a logical standpoint. Every world must have life and death and the passing of time. Where there exists a living thing, there exists a vessel of emotion and dreams. In all worlds there is the potential for chaos disrupting fate. 

“Yoongi is an Eternal?”

Taehyung glances sidelong at you, smug. “Yes, Yoongi is an Eternal.”

“Why do you look at me like that when I say his name?” Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead smirking as if he’s enjoying a private joke. Your fists close and open as you swallow down a demand to tell you what he finds so amusing. “Which one is he?”

“Have you no guesses?”

That makes you think. Recalling the night before, you remember the way Yoongi looks: dark eyes swimming with something magical, a soft and raspy voice, the way he appeared in your dreams. 

Though your dreams are mesmerizing and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You recall what he said about your dreams, the way he leveled his gaze at you, full of meaning that you didn’t understand. 

“Dreams,” you say, certain that you're right. “He’s the Eternal of Dreams?”

“He isn’t of dreams. He is Dream.”

You’re unable to clarify Taehyung’s emphasis on Yoongi being a deity of dreams as he opens the door to the same library as before. This time, he doesn’t knock. When you step inside, you realize it’s because the room is empty. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen, though pale light filters in through the windows. It’s still forever twilight outside, yet a little lighter. It feels like morning, even if it does not entirely appear to be morning. 

Behind you, the door shuts. You turn to see Taehyung has left without another word, leaving you entirely alone in the captivating space. 

Without hesitation, you walk to the nearest shelf housing rows and rows of books. The spines range from muted browns and neutrals to bright reds and rich blues. Velvet books, leather books, canvas, silk. There is no shortage of materials making up each one, letters painted, printed or stitched down the back of them to denote what they are. 

Each one breathes a world of possibility as you drag your finger along the shape of them. You wonder how many worlds and histories are scribbled away in the pages of this room, the very idea of it overwhelming. 

Trinkets and objects you’re unfamiliar with line the shelves as well. Your fingers trace their shape and you wonder what they are. One object in particular catches your eye in the corner of the room. It stands on three metal legs and has large, interlocking rings that spin lazily in some unknown pattern. The rings are hammered metal and appear to have markings engraved on them.

The device slowly spins of its own accord. Upon inspection, there seems to be nothing else responsible for its motion except magic or science that is beyond you. You can see that there are seven metal rings and different markings on each of them, but you cannot guess what the engravings read. 

“It represents the balance of the Eternals. Taehyung mentioned you had a vague starting point as to what I am.”

Yoongi’s deep voice makes you leap and screech, spinning on your heels to face him. Your hand flies to your chest and you can feel your heartbeat rattling wildly. Yoongi stands a few feet away from you, hands linked behind his back and eyebrows raised at your reaction. 

He’s dressed similar to the night before, though a little more casual. His black pants are tucked into knee high boots, and his black shirt is loose fitted with silver stitching around the collar. You notice that it’s in patterns of stars and moons, furthering your confirmation that Yoongi is associated with dreams in some manner. 

Yoongi’s long hair is pulled half out of his face today, tied away in a bun. The rest of his hair brushes the tops of his shoulders as his inky eyes regard you patiently. His curiosity makes you feel warm all over and you drop your hands to your sides, fingers twitching. 

“How so?” you ask. You turn back to the device. “What does it run on?”

“Our energy. Each ring represents a member of my family. The speed at which they turn represents the balance among us. When the speed is off, the balance is off.”

“What causes the balance to be off?” 

Yoongi steps closer to you. You hold your breath as he does it, but you can feel his presence like a buzzing vibration at the back of your neck.

His voice is softer when he answers, “A number of things. Sometimes some of us aren’t always performing the way we should be. Other times, we’re overperforming. Or fighting, really, as siblings are wont to do.”

“I don’t know what that’s like.”

“You’re not missing much. Especially when your siblings are as ancient and never ending as you are.” 

“How… old are you?”

You look at Yoongi to see he’s standing next to you now. He looks at you, face impassive as he lifts a shoulder. “How old is the earth? How old is existence? It’s hard to say.” 

“Where do you come from?”

“Chaos was first. Life and Death were next, twins born of the sudden whims of Chaos. I was next, for Life often dreamed. Time was always there, though no one knows if Time or Chaos came first. Pathos and Fate came later.”

You nod, though you don’t fully understand the scope of how old and fathomless the existence of things like chaos and time and dreams are. It makes your head spin, trying to conceptualize the thing next to you who looks very much like an ordinary man being something so ancient and primordial that he precedes human existence entirely. 

“You’re overwhelmed,” he notes, a bit of amusement in his voice. “I don’t blame you. The best way to understand it is that I am a living concept that can never be destroyed, so long as there exists something to dream about.” 

Crossing his arms in front of him, Yoongi clasps his hands and gives you a slight smile. He has a pretty smile, you realize. Delicate and almost shy. It makes your heart flutter and you mentally chastise yourself for thinking that a being of eternal dreams can possibly be shy. 

“How about a tour? Our deal is that you’ll spend two weeks a month here. I’d love for you to feel like this is a place you can be familiar with, if not something akin to a home.”

“Home?”

His smile grows. “If that word ever seems fitting, sure.”

Home. The word makes you think about what home means to you and suddenly you feel a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. Flashes of a flooded forest, lighting lancing across the sky, hands gripping you tight and shoving you under the water. 

“Um,” you clear your throat. “So a tour.”

Yoongi’s eyes glitter as he grins and turns, using a hand to gesture to the wide library. “This is the main library, but we’ll end our tour here. Let’s go through the gardens first, it’s nice weather.”

Yoongi starts without you, leaving you to stand staring after him as he goes. His gait is smooth and confident. He presses on a pane of glass that you realize is a door. A breeze teases the loose pieces of his hair, carrying the familiar scent of clove and cinnamon toward you. 

For a moment, you stare after him. Yoongi being a deity of dreams makes so much sense in this moment, stepping into the twilight, face tilted upward slightly as though he’s soaking up the sun. He looks radiant. Tranquil. When he turns to look at you expectantly, his rose pink mouth quirks sideways. 

“Right,” you say, hurrying to follow him. “Outside is where we start.” 

When you pass him, you get the sense that Yoongi wants to tease you further. Instead, he says nothing and leads you into the gardens. A cobblestone path leads from the door through wisteria trees, their amethyst leaves swooping down and filling the air with sweet fragrance. 

Up above, the sky is a mix of blue and purple, thousands of stars twinkling. There is a stone bench near one of the windows of the library, but Yoongi leads you away from the palace and down the path under the trees. The air is crisp and pleasant, cooling your anxious, sweat-slick skin. 

Yoongi links his hands behind his back. “This is the library garden,” he informs you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “It’s mostly wisteria trees, which are my favorite to walk through when I need to think.”

“They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Much different from the woods outside of your home.”

“You know the woods outside of my home?”

“You called me there, remember?” You blanch at the memory, but if he notices, Yoongi says nothing. “Besides, I’m familiar with the woods that surround your home. Your village pays homage to my brother.”

“Your brother?”

He hums. “Life. Perhaps they don’t know that it’s him they pray to, but they do.”

Taking a left, Yoongi leads you on a looping path through the massive wisteria trees. They’re larger than anything you’ve ever seen, their bows sweeping monoliths of purple, trunks thick as boulders. A strange creature sits on the branches of one of the trees, making you stop and stare. 

A tiny, carnelian creature sits on a bough, bright against the lavender background of the leaves. It has four legs and scaled feet, sharp talons cutting into the bark as it keeps its balance in the tree. Small wings are folded on its back, bony limbs with paper-thin skin between them, a lighter red than the rest of its body. A long tail snakes around the branch, holding the creature in place as its long neck extends, head tilting to look at you curiously.

“Is that a dragon?” you whisper, staring at it.

You’ve only heard them described in stories, but you don’t really know what they look like. It has scales like a lizard and it blinks two large eyes at you, entirely black. There are small horns on its head, and a forked tongue snakes out as it tastes the air. 

“She’s a fey dragon,” Yoongi hums, looking up at the creature with a smile. “And she’s not supposed to be in the trees here, are you?”

A puff of smoke curls from the dragon’s nose as it huffs, making you take a step backward. Yoongi lets out a deep laugh that makes a tingle rattle down your spine and your toes curl. The sound is like smoke and velvet, heady in the air. 

“She won’t hurt you,” Yoongi assures, shaking his head to continue walking under the dragon’s branch. “She’s a pesky little thing, but she is incredibly sweet. Fey dragons are much smaller than their firedrake cousins and less dangerous than their basilisk relatives.”

With your eyes cast upward, you hurry after Yoongi, keeping your gaze on the large lizard as you run under the branch. Her dark eyes follow you, unblinking and fathomless. The hair on your arms stands up and you can’t help but feel that despite the dragon being small and what Yoongi calls harmless, it is incredibly intelligent. 

“There are dragons here?” 

“There is everything here.”

You frown, finally turning away from the dragon as you leave it behind. “That’s confusing. Everything as in…?”

“When you dream, you have limitless potential. You can go anywhere, be anything, see any creature. Dreams even invent things that do not exist in the natural world. Creatures, stories, songs, words, plants. The possibility for creation in a dream is limitless, and this place is the essence of dreams. It is me.”

“So you are this place and the place is you?”

He seems thoughtful before nodding. “More or less. This is a dream realm as much as it is a collection of ideas, thoughts and hopes. Everything that every living creature has ever dreamed about walks these lands.”

“Even nightmares?”

Yoongi pulls up short and whips his head at you. You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to meet his eyes under his severe expression. In the distance, you swear you hear thunder. An apology springs to your lips, but before you can give it, Yoongi nods sharply once and begins walking again.

“Nightmares too. Do not speak of nightmares here, lest they come searching.”

You think about Taehyung telling you that you were safe but being concerned when you didn’t answer the door earlier that morning. A chill seeps into your bones as you rejoin Yoongi on your walk, his pace not as relaxed now. 

“They come searching?” you try, a little curious, a little afraid. 

“Yes. They are different from dreams. Unpredictable in a way I admire and dislike.” He glances sidelong at you. “They have a mind of their own. You are safe with me always, but it’s best practice to not think of them while you’re here. This world has a way of manifesting.”

For a few moments, you walk in silence. You let your questions fall silent as you look around. The two of you exit the wisteria trees to see a large pond. A single, massive wisteria sits on its western edge with a bench underneath it. 

The surface of the pond is dark and smooth, reflecting the swirling stars in the sky. Yoongi leads you around the mirror surface and points out the mountains in the distance that you could see from your windows. 

“Mountains of Sleep,” he tells you. “It is where all beings who are ready for their eternal rest come to dream for the remainder of their existence. They are also called the Mountains of Divinity, for there are hundreds of divine immortals among their peaks.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Not all beings rest here. Some prefer their own planes and resting grounds. But this existed before those places, and has long been used for the tired and the weary who are ready to retire.”

“Are they dead?”

“No. The dead cannot come here.” He hesitates. “When they do, it is because they are not a dream.”

You get the sense that Yoongi is talking about nightmares again and you shiver as he takes you around the pond. “Don’t let anything in that body of water convince you to go swimming. They won’t intentionally hurt you but they don’t understand the concept of human life.”

“They?”

“They don’t have a name. They are water-folk who were dreamt up by someone once. I admire them and they’re beautiful and wicked smart, but they’re a bit cheeky.”

“I’m starting not to feel as safe as you said I was.”

Yoongi stops and frowns. He lifts a hand as though he’s about to touch your arm before he thinks better of it and drops it at his side. You realize you’re disappointed that he did before mentally kicking yourself, feeling a little ashamed to be so affected by a god. You’re sure Yoongi gets it often, but it makes you feel silly nonetheless. 

“You are safe.” He lowers his head a little, catching your gaze. Though his eyes are midnight black, you swear you see the stars above reflected in their dark pools. “But there are rules everywhere. This place has them just the same as your home did. You were relatively safe there, but there were rules.”

“And then I broke them and Nathaniel tried to murder me.”

“Nathaniel was dealt with and will never touch you again.” Thunder rolls in the distance and your heart flutters at the vehemence with which Yoongi says this. “The misdeeds of your family cannot chase you here.”

You don’t press Yoongi on the matter. Instead, you let him proceed with the tour, keeping your questions to a minimum as you wonder what Yoongi meant by Nathaniel being dealt with. You recall the soft, susurrated voice against your ear when Yoongi found you. The gentle brush of something like a kiss to your neck. The rage and power as he stepped in front of you to face Nathaniel when the deal was done.

It does not require much to make an assumption about Yoongi’s meaning. 

The yards of his palace are sprawling and full of color. Gardens with flowers he doesn’t know the name of but said a little girl had dreamed them and he liked them so he made more. Butterflies with colors you didn’t know existed flitting from plant to plant. Fruit orchards with the ripest, reddest apples you’ve ever seen. 

And the palace. It is the only word you have for it. The building is several stories tall, hewn from dark stone with at least five different towers. Starlight glitters in the windows as Yoongi guides you up the stairs toward the massive double doors that lead to the main entrance of the castle. On the door handle are two wrought-iron griffons with proud faces. 

Without a touch, the doors open on Yoongi’s arrival. You wonder if the building responds to his presence as the door swings open for the two of you. Inside, the foyer is as magnificent as the library, a lush purple carpet rolling over stone floors. 

In the center of the room is a massive spiral staircase. Looking up, you see that it goes all the way up the floors of the palace, dizzying circles of floor after floor. Yoongi explains there are other ways to go all the way up to the top throughout the castle but this is the easiest way, though he assures you that by the third floor you’d be out of breath. 

Each room Yoongi shows you is opulent and warm. Rich, deep wooden furniture, paintings with dark splashes of amethyst, scarlet and gold. Rooms for tea, rooms for painting, rooms for music, rooms for dancing. Yoongi has a room for everything, sometimes occupied by strange little creatures that hide when you walk in or curious things that lift their heads when they see him. 

No one else besides Taehyung seems to be there, though. You come across felines, little balls of light that bounce around Yoongi excitedly and light him up like a burst of flame, a little furry thing that you think is a fox but in a shade of shocking sapphire, and a massive wolf with eyes like ice that blink apathetically at you as you walk by. But never once do you see another person. Even Taehyung seems to be amiss. 

“Does no one else live here?” Yoongi takes you through another room empty of people and things. “It’s so empty.” 

He takes his time to answer as you leave the room and move into the hallway. It’s hard to tell which way you’re going, but you think that you’re headed toward the library again. Your legs ache from going up and down the stairs on an endless tour of rooms, and you’re eager to be in the library once more. 

“There used to be,” Yoongi says slowly. “But people don’t tend to do well in places that they don’t belong.”

“So you’re all alone here?”

His smile is sad. “I have Taehyung.” He pauses before he adds, “And now you.”

I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company. You think of Yoongi’s words from the night before and suddenly you’re filled with sadness. Sadness for this ancient being, who seems so gentle and quiet. Who lives alone in this giant castle with all of the world’s dreams around him and no one to share them with. 

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “How do you know I belong?”

“Pardon?”

“Do I? Belong, I mean. You wouldn’t… have me here if I wouldn’t do well, right?”

“No one dreams the way you do.” He says this firmly. Confident. Fierce. “I believe there is nothing you wouldn’t be able to find here.”

“Do you always know what I dream about?” 

“No. But you dream… loudly. Colorfully. Sometimes it’s hard to ignore. I don’t like to pry, though.” 

“Can you see everyone’s dreams?”

“Mhmm. I even make some.”

This catches your attention and you reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him. He glances down where your fingers touch his skin, your fingers buzzing where you’re connected. You flush with warmth and drop your hand, clearing your throat at how forward grabbing him was. 

Yoongi is smirking when you ask, “Can you show me?”

“One day, yes. For now, the end of the tour and lunch.”

At the mention of lunch, your stomach rumbles. His grin spreads into a full smile and Yoongi leads you back to the library. Again, the doors open without his touch and as you pass them, you study them for any sign of an auto-opening mechanism but find none. 

Yoongi’s magic appears limitless. You remember the food disappearing from dinner, the swell of power as Yoongi agreed to save you, and his sudden appearance as you were drowning. You know nothing about the god of dreams or what he’s capable of, but you’re awed at how easy it comes to him. 

“This is the main library.” Yoongi turns around to face you, sweeping his arms out on either side of him. “There are two others: one in my room and one located in the dream tower.”

“You didn’t show me the dream tower.”

“I’ll show you when you’re ready.” 

Unsure what ready means to Yoongi, you look around the library. Same as the night before, the shelves are crammed full of books and scrolls, so much paper and ink that it makes you lightheaded with excitement. It still smells of lemon and wax, though as you pass Yoongi to go to a shelf, you’re overcome with clove and cinnamon again. 

Trying to ignore the shiver that merely walking by Yoongi gives you, you brush the spines of books once again, feeling their potential under your fingertips. 

“You always have access to this library. You can read what you like.”

A pang goes through you and you drop your hand. Without looking at him, you mumble, “Thank you, but I can’t read.”

No response comes. You stare unseeing at the books before taking a breath to turn your head and steal a glance at Yoongi. You expect some sort of amusement or perhaps pity, but his face is unreadable, jaw working.

“That’s okay,” he finally says. “We will teach you. After lunch we will make a schedule to help fill your time here. Reading and writing lessons will be a part of that.”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Do you mean that?”

“Do you want to learn?” You nod your head eagerly. He grins gently. “Then we will teach you.” 

-

Yoongi’s eyes are dark as he presses forward. Your breath catches in your chest as you lay back, looking up at him with your lips parted, heart hammering in your chest. He settles his waist against you, the weight of him pressing you into your bed as you lay back. 

He is so beautiful that it puts you in a daze, staring up into his face as he leans over you. His hair is pulled back, but a few dark strands hang loose. His mouth is stained red with wine, making you want to lean forward and taste his lips and feel their softness. 

Tentatively, you reach a hand up and brush the loose strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear. You don’t stop touching him, though, hand cradling his flushed face. His eyes flutter shut and he leans into your palm as you cup his cheek, thumb sweeping back and forth. 

“Is this what you dream of?” he whispers, eyes remaining closed. “Being under me, like this?”

Dreaming. You realize you’re dreaming. You jolt and suddenly, you’re alone. 

-

“Your handwriting is terrible,” Taehyung admits, looming over your shoulder. You grip the quill tighter, nearly snapping it in two. “But you learn unbelievably fast. How many of these letters do you think you have consistently memorized?” 

Taehyung is in charge of your writing lessons today and you already want to kill him. It’s been five days of your new residency in the House of Dreams, as Yoongi calls it, and you’ve quickly learned that Taehyung is equally charming and playful as he is outright vexing. 

Instead of turning to give him a very harsh poke in the arm with your quill, you scan the shapes in front of you. There are twenty-six of them, all awkwardly slanted and misshapen where you’ve used too much ink or not enough. Using a quill and ink feels alien to your hand and your fingers struggle to remember the proper way to hold it as you draw your letters. 

“I think most of them,” you answer slowly, mentally sounding out each word on the page in your head as you go. “But there are a few of them that confuse me. The lowercase ‘d’ and ‘b’ I find nearly impossible to recall and ‘v’ and ‘u’ are rather frustrating.” 

“Whenever you see a ‘u’, think of it as having a scoop. Sc-uuup.” Taehyung points to a ‘u�� on the page and mimics the scooping motion. “Might be easier to associate the sound scoop with ‘u’ even though the word itself doesn’t have a ‘u’.” 

The desperate look you give him makes him laugh as you struggle to imagine why a word with a ‘u’ sound doesn’t actually contain the letters. You’re saved from Taehyung’s maddening - but helpful - instruction as Yoongi walks into the library. 

“You’d better not be laughing at her again.” 

Taehyung steps away from you and bows his head toward Yoongi. “I’m laughing with her. We’re just sharing amusement over the hypocrisy of letters.”  

“Yeah,” you deadpan. “It’s hilarious.”

Today, Yoongi is in a deep, amethyst colored shirt. It’s laced at the throat with the familiar moon and stars that he has stitched on much of his clothing, and his hair down and long, slicked back and tucked behind his ears. As always, he’s in dark pants and boots today, the sound of them clicking on the stone floor as he nudges Taehyung out of the way to peer over your shoulder. 

You tense. Being around Yoongi for the last five days has been intoxicating. It is bad enough that you get distracted during your lessons by the way his voice rumbles when he speaks and the way he chews his lips when working on his own things while you study. It’s worse that now he invades your dreams, whispering in your ear and hands wandering over your curves, sinful mouth brushing over your skin and leaving you to jolt awake in bed covered in sweat.

The very idea that Yoongi knows what you're dreaming of drives you to the edge of insanity. He’d promised he preferred to avoid your dreams, but you wonder if he knows. Knows that you have developed an insatiable habit of fantasizing about his hands, or about the tone of his voice. 

Gripping your quill tight, you hold your breath when he leans over you. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you feel the heat of him and smell him, cinnamon and clove making your eyes flutter. If you didn’t know he was the god of dreams, you’d mistake him for the god of lust, if that was a thing.

“Why aren’t you breathing?” You peer upward to see Yoongi looking down at you. If you tilted your head back just a fraction more, you’d be pressed against his chest. Even from upside down, his moon-pale face and cosmos eyes make you want to scream. “Are you alright?”

“Nervous that I’m not performing well.”

His face softens. “You’re a quick learner. Don’t worry about progress and pace.”

“But what if I lose it when I go h- back.” 

Home. That’s what you were going to say. But the idea of home is terrifying. You don’t know what waits for you when you go back. You don’t know what splitting time between two worlds means. You don’t know what you’ll do when you have to spend two weeks there before coming back to Yoongi. 

Five days in Yoongi’s realm has been enough to make you feel like this has always been your life. You fit into the daily routines of Yoongi and Taehyung better than you imagined, and though you still sometimes get lost in the House of Dreams, you discover that you’re adapting. 

There’s always something new to discover, an adventure around the corner. You like learning your letters and the sounds that they make. You love studying the maps in the library and tracing the distances between countries you can’t name and have no idea where they are. 

Most of all, you love exploring. Rooms upon rooms of objects both normal and magical. Creatures that roam freely around the palace - including a clever little fox that has taken interest in following you around as you take breaks from studying by walking around the grounds. 

While Yoongi’s home doesn’t feel like it belongs to you, you’re more afraid to go back to your mother and father than you are to go near the pond at the edge of the wisteria garden. 

So you avoid thinking of going back.

“You’ll practice while you’re there,” Yoongi says, as though it’s the easiest answer in the world. “You have to practice every day.”

“My father won’t- he doesn’t…” You shake your head, unable to get the words out. That your father would strike you to the ground if he found you with books again. “I can’t bring anything back with me.”

“Sure you can.” You glance at him to find his expression is firm. “I told you, you’re under my protection. Things will be very different for you when you go back.”

“How?”

“It’s… difficult to say.” 

Yoongi offers nothing else. You become hyper aware of how close he’s standing to you again and you look down at your letter practicing. With a shaky hand, you dip the quill into the ink, lifting it from the inkwell and letting the excess drip before bringing it over to the paper. 

When Yoongi makes no move to leave, you inhale deeply to steel your nerves and continue tracing. He’s content to watch you as you work. If he knows how distracted this makes you, he doesn’t let on. Perhaps he has no idea that as you scrawl a shaky letter ‘k’, it’s Yoongi who consumes your thoughts. 

Even in your waking hours it seems you’re not rid of him. 

Most of your study sessions are like this, Yoongi watching you so closely that it makes your quill bleed too much ink. He is a passive teacher, letting you come to him with questions instead of correcting you constantly like Taehyung does. Even now, when you hesitate on the next letter of the alphabet, Yoongi doesn’t offer his help. Lets you figure it out. 

You dip the quill in ink and continue. 

After you finish the last shaky letter, you set the quill down, flexing your fingers open and closed. Yoongi makes a satisfied noise and steps away. You turn to see him walking toward the table by the fireplace, which is where you have started to take all your meals. Already, there are platters of food and drinks. Taehyung sits in a chair, plucking a grape from a plate and popping it in his mouth.

“I didn’t invite you,” Yoongi grumbles as he takes a seat at the head of the table. You push yourself up from your chair, legs aching from sitting so long. “Who said you can eat my grapes?”

“Ugh, I’m tired of eating alone.” 

“Let him stay, Yoongi.” The god looks at you with a glower, bottom lip jutted out slightly. It’s so cute that you can’t help but burst into laughter, hand flying to your mouth. “Sorry, I think you just pouted.” 

“He did.” Taehyung grins and leans back in his chair. “He wants you to himself.”

Yoongi hisses Taehyung’s name, shutting down the teasing immediately. You glance at Yoongi shyly as you sit down but he doesn’t meet your eyes, choosing to laden his plate with food instead. You can’t imagine why Yoongi would want you to himself, especially when all you do is ply him with questions. 

Still, a little bit of a thrill goes through you as you start loading your plate, your gaze drifting toward the deity again as he bites into a strawberry, the juice running down his chin. Your eyes track the movement as his tongue darts out, catching the drip before it escapes too far. 

Yoongi’s mouth is hypnotizing and it takes you a moment too long to realize he’s watching you stare at him. Quickly, you grab a cup and bring water to your lips, gulping the cool water and glancing up at the ceiling, feeling embarrassment bloom like warm liquid through you. 

When you put the cup down, you swear you see Yoongi smiling. 

-

Hungry lips suck at the tender flesh of your neck. You gasp, feeling your toes curl in pleasure, head spinning. Yoongi’s teeth scrape against the sensitive skin, the drag of his rough tongue soothing over the bites driving you mad. You let out a soft moan, eyes squeezing shut as you writhe under him. 

Yoongi’s large hands pin yours above your head, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he continues to ravish your neck with his hot mouth, tongue and teeth. His hips roll over you and you whine, feeling his hard-on pressing against you. 

Your parents would kill you if they knew you were here like this, trapped under a god of the dark as he sucks on your pulse point, mouth moving upward to nip your ear. Your chest is heaving and you can’t get enough breath, overwhelmed by the scent of cinnamon and clove, by the way his mouth pulls sounds from you so easily. 

Yoongi tears his lips away and looks down at you, eyes so dark and blown out that you think he might devour you, swallow you whole in one bite - 

“You’re dreaming of me again,” he whispers. “I don’t know if you mean to be dreaming of me, like this.” 

You startle, realizing this isn’t real, and the illusion fades. 

-

Twilight skies stretch above you. It’s warm outside, but the night air is cool against your skin, making you shiver as you sit down, folding your legs criss-cross. 

“Are you cold?” Yoongi asks, sitting down on the soft grass next to you. You shake your head, eyes fixed on the low table in front of you that's filled with platters of meats, cheeses and crackers. You eye a glass bottle of red liquid that you think is wine, mouth watering. “Are you sure?”

“Promise, the wind feels nice.” 

He looks doubtful as he sits down next to you, a healthy amount of space between you. 

Tonight, Yoongi has insisted on a late night snack outside under the stars. He seems eager, verging on giddy as he glances up at the sky before reaching for the bottle of red liquid and popping the cork. 

After nearly two weeks in the House of Dreams, you’ve learned that this world is forever twilight, lit up by dreams. Here, day and night don’t exist in their truest forms. There are always millions of people and creatures dreaming at every moment of existence, not limiting Yoongi’s world and power to times of day and night. 

The twilight is beautiful. You’ve grown accustomed to the purple tint to the world, the way that it gets just the barest bit darker outside during certain periods, as though even in a world where night and day don’t exist, there are still two separate halves of time. 

Yoongi passes you a glass. You bring it to your nose and sniff, delighted at the scent of cherries and something else. It’s certainly wine, though you wait for him to pour himself a glass to sip any. 

Earrings dangle in Yoongi’s ears tonight. Each lobe has a small, thin chain with a moon charm on the end that’s studded with sapphires, catching the moonlight as he sets down the bottle and sits back. His hair is pulled half-up, half-down again, leaving his full face in view as he looks at you and gives you a gummy grin that scatters your thoughts. 

“Chaos is moving through the sky tonight,” Yoongi informs you, glancing upward. “When she does, she’s beautiful to see. She doesn’t do it that often, but she’s passing us by on her way to do whatever it is she does somewhere. I wanted you to see.” 

He holds out his drink and you grip yours tight, raising your glass to clink with his like you’ve seen people do at the inn in your village. He turns away from you, bringing his wine to his lips to sip. You follow suit, tentatively tilting your glass.

Sweet cherries bloom on your tongue and you hum in delight. It isn’t just cherries you taste, though. There’s a lush sweetness too, edged with spice, filling your mouth with warmth. You look at Yoongi as you sip and see him watching with a closed-lipped smile, eyes searching your face.

“You like it?” 

You nod and set the glass down. “It’s delicious.” 

“You like sweet things.” 

“And you like salty.” He raises a brow in question. “You’re always going for the salted meats at dinner. And you have salted pork right there,” you point to the meat and cheeseboards. “Do gods get dehydrated?”

“We do not. I didn’t realize you were paying so much attention.” You shrug, picking up your wine to take small sips again. “Anything else you’ve noticed?” 

Everything, you want to say and don’t. You’ve noticed so many things about Yoongi, all of them coming to mind at once. But you don’t want to reveal just how much you’ve watched him over the last two weeks, paying far more attention than is proper. 

You could tell Yoongi how you’ve noticed that he wears seven necklaces exactly, each with a different symbol charm on them that you think corresponds to the seven Eternals. You could tell him that he has the habit of closing his eyes and tilting his face upward, like he’s absorbing moonlight. You know all of his favorite breakfast items, specifically crispy bacon and sugared strawberries. 

And there are other things you could tell him, like in your dreams his lips are soft as sin, his voice low and sultry. You could admit that most nights you feel his grip on your waist and that when you study his hands during your lessons, you can’t help but already know the shape of them. 

Perhaps two weeks back in your village is exactly what you need to get the ridiculous fantasy of this eternal being from your head. You don’t think you could bear the shame of him knowing exactly what living in the in-between realm has done for your imagination in a very unexpected way. 

“You like bacon,” you offer as an answer. “And sugared strawberries. In the evening, whiskey is your favorite. It smells a little bit like honey, but still spicy. And you must work in the dream tower often at night, because the door to the tower smells like clove and cinnamon and you always smell that way.”

Yoongi’s brows shoot up. You hide your expression with your glass of wine, taking a long draught. It hums in your veins, warm and rushing like nothing you’ve ever felt before. When you lower the glass, Yoongi watches you with an intense expression. You meet his gaze, suddenly unable to look away. 

The air feels charged as you stare. His eyes dip down to your mouth a single time, then back up to your eyes. The breeze moves strands of his hair and you smell the hint of clove followed by cinnamon, just as you always do when he’s near. Your heart starts to staccato as the silence presses on. 

A little shriek cuts through the tension like a knife. You flinch and turn around, looking at a red blur of movement burst from the wisteria trees. Tiera lands with a squawk, the fey dragon huffing as grey smoke curls from her lungs. She ignores you entirely as she normally does and skips over to where Yoongi is sitting before she settles next to him, curling like a cat and laying on her tail.

Yoongi laughs. “Hello, Tiera.” The dragon chuffs and lets out another puff of smoke. “Are you not going to say hello to our friend?” 

When the dragon pays no attention to you, you roll your eyes. “She hates me.”

“Dragons are capricious. She’s been with me for over a hundred years.”

“Not very mature then, is she?”

He chuckles again as you pluck cheese from the platter and pop it into your mouth. You’re delighted to find it’s soft and garlicky with a hint of rosemary as well. “She is still a child in dragon years.” 

“And you let her be a glutton.” 

“You could be too.” Your chewing slows and you swallow the cheese hard. You wait to see if he’s teasing you, but Yoongi watches you with a placid expression. “Dreams and desires are intertwined, you know. Desires come from dreams. It is in my nature to be indulgent.” 

“I’ve never really been indulgent in my life.”

“Do you want to be?”

“What?”

His mouth twitches. “Indulgent.”

“I think this is indulgent,” you gesture to the food. “And you’re teaching me to read and write. That is more indulgence than I could ever dream of.”

He hums and it sounds like disapproval. “I think your dreams are far more indulgent than that.” 

He knows. You think he’s going to say something, to ask about the way you dream of him. Instead, he says, “When you return, we’ll work on your indulgence. There is no shame in wanting things, you know?” 

“I don’t know. How could I?”

Light flashes above your head. You break eye contact with him to look up and gasp. The sky is full of shooting stars, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. The world lights up as you see rainbows streaking across the sky, bursts of colors and explosions of brilliance shooting through the sky. 

Your mouth hangs open as you watch, mystified into silence. You’re sure this is what Yoongi meant when he said Chaos was passing by, for the sky becomes a cacophony of color and stars and light. You blink your eyes, stunned by the display. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, your heart hammering with excitement as you watch it, legs crossed, head tilted up.

The stars begin to slow and there are less bursts of color, until finally, there is just a shimmering wake of stardust and pink simmering in the sky. You look at Yoongi, utterly speechless, to find him looking at you. His eyes reflect the night sky, full of constellations and stardust, glittering in the dark depths of his irises. 

Yoongi’s eyes are as wonderful as the display above, but you don’t say that. 

“That was beautiful,” you breathe. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes don’t leave you when he hums softly in agreement. “It was.” 

Tiera shuffles next to Yoongi, drawing your attention. She snakes her long neck out, tongue tasting the air as she eyes the meat on the table. Yoongi hisses at her and taps her nose in chastisement, earning an angry croak as the dragon shuffles back to her napping position. 

The rest of your evening is spent snacking in companionable silence. Yoongi doesn’t talk much unless he’s answering your hundreds of questions, but tonight, you have none. You’re comfortable to just look at the world around you, the wisteria branches dancing in the breeze. 

In the distance, you hear thunder. Your eyes follow the sound to the same dark peak with lightning crackling through the mist. You’ve yet to ask Yoongi about that peak in particular, but you think you know what looms there. You remember Yoongi talking about how there are nightmares in this realm too, and you’re not eager to ask what that thunderous mountain holds. 

Yoongi doesn’t divulge, either. He watches you as you regard the peak and says nothing. Perhaps even the Eternal of dreams is hesitant to speak of that place, which is a good enough reason for you not to press him further on it. 

When your stomach is full and you’ve had another glass of wine, you lay back in the grass. Your limbs feel heavy with drink and your world is tilted on a slow-rotating axis. The buzz in your veins feels pleasant, though your thoughts are a little sticky like honey and they run together, untamed. 

Careful to keep his distance, Yoongi lays back in the grass with you. His face looks up at the sky, but you look at him. His features are so delicate and soft, nose and cheeks so round. His face don’t make sense in your head, so severe and terrifying yet gentle and innocent at the same time. 

“You’re staring,” he says eventually. 

“I’m indulging,” you tease back, loosened up by wine. “You said I can indulge, so let me stare.”

“What is there to indulge in?” 

“Your… earrings.” 

That makes him look at you, a brow quirked. “My earrings.”

“Yes. Very shiny. Very dangly.”

“Shiny and dangly?”

“Is there an echo out here?” you demand, frowning at him. “Yes, I am indulging in your jewelry!” 

“Would you like some earrings?”

“My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Well then we’ll pierce them.”

“Well,” you grump. “Don’t you have the answer for everything?”

He smiles then, that rare gummy smile that makes you shut right up. “I told you. I’m indulgent. Anything you want, all you need is to ask.” 

Rolling your eyes, you bite your lip to hide your smile at his words. It is insane to you that this ancient being is laying in the grass next to you telling you to only ask what you want. You don’t know what you want, but you do know that this feels like a dream. That you’re not really here, and that you’re going to wake up tomorrow and be in your bed at home. 

Dread fills you at the thought of going back to your parents. In a way, you want to see them. They’re your parents and there is… unfamiliarity without the sound of your mothers needle stitching through cloth. You could do without your father entirely. The rage inside of you when you picture his face is difficult to quell and is often followed by terror. 

Yoongi has told you that you will be safe when you return. You believe him. There is no reason not to. But more than anything, you’re terrified about what comes next. Living between two worlds is something you remember dreaming about that one day in the forest, looking at the way the world was reflected back on the mirror-calm surface of the water. 

Now that you have access to two worlds, you don’t know what to do with the other that has brought you nothing but suffering. And yet, you still want to see what is there. You’re not ready to leave it entirely without knowing. 

“Are you afraid to go back?” 

Yoongi’s question is soft. You don’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.” 

“You won’t be alone. All you have to do is dream of me, and I will come.”

You hesitate then ask, “Do you know any time someone dreams of you?”

“It’s like hearing someone call my name, but I never answer. My business is in creating dreams, not invading them. People like you are able to spin up dreams on your own without my assistance. I help those who cannot.” 

“That sounds like a lovely job.”

He hums. “It’s not without its stresses. I talk a lot about the nature of dreams, but there is more to me and to my job than that. Perhaps we will leave that for your next visit, yes?”

You nod. “Okay.” 

“Come on,” Yoongi sighs, heaving himself upward. “It is late and in the morning, you must return.” 

-

“Touch me,” you beg him, straddling Yoongi’s lap. His head rests against the back of the couch and he looks up at you as you run your fingers through his hair. It’s softer than you imagined, sliding like silk between your fingers. “You told me to ask for what I wanted. Touch me.”

“Anything,” Yoongi agrees. His hands skim up your thighs, warm and rough. He squeezes your flesh, making you moan as his hands continue their worship. Yoongi grips your hips tightly, kneading your flesh as he pulls you closer to him. “Anything. Everything. For you.”

-

When you wake up, you’re confused. The roof above your head is wood and thatch. The mattress beneath you is thin and lumpy, sweat sticking the sheets to your legs. Rolling over, your vision blurs until it comes into focus once more, revealing a tiny room with just a bed, a wardrobe and a closed door. 

Your  room. Well, your room in your parents’ house, you realize with a panic. 

You shoot up in bed as terror claws at you. Did you dream it all? Was it not real? Nothing in your room has changed and the windows are open to the cool air. Grey clouds drift in the sky and you can smell the petrichor of oncoming rain in the distance. 

Rushing to your bedroom door, you rip it open, your heart threatening to burst with how hard it’s beating. You don’t know what you’re looking for or what you expect to find, but the idea that you have just woken up from the most vivid, wonderful dream is so maddening that you need anything to tell you it was real. That it wasn’t in your head.

Your mother is sitting at the kitchen table stitching. She looks up when she hears you. She looks different, leaner and narrower than you ever remember, her greasy hair tied low at her neck. Her hands pause their stitching as she stares at you, stricken. 

“What day is it?” you ask her. The day you had been attacked had been a seventh day. You remember that clearly. “Tell me what day it is!”

Instead, your mother screams in sheer terror. 

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[goldenlikedayl1ght]

season of the witch - j. miller

a/n: first joel fic! got super into this one, and it's super long. uhhhh hope you enjoy and happy october! also want to give a huge shoutout to @luveline for her au writing and her luna lovegood!reader which was a huge inspiration to this fic. love you jade!! warnings: spooky themes, kissing, mentions of yearning, don't think too deeply about the dialogue sometimes i kind of hate this ok, ellie and reader being best friends, dana struggling, like kind of horror stuff, some angst, burns, mentions of murder word count: 5.1k summary: you've lived in the small town of everbrook for a while now, and you thought nothing could shock you anymore. you're wrong. paring: monsterhunter!joel x witch!reader now playing: season of the witch - donavan "you've got to pick up every stich/oh no, must be the season of the witch"

Ever since you moved to Everbrook, you could tell everyone around you thought of you as odd. You were twenty-two, what were you doing living in a small old cabin outside of town? Didn’t you want to go to parties, do drugs, whatever it was that kids did these days?

Maybe that’s why you loved Everbrook, it felt like time had stood still even now, years after you had visited as a small child. There was something charming about it, as if you had stepped into a fairytale. Only fairytales had less gossip than Everbrook did.

You had frequented Everbrook every Halloween as a kid. Your grandmother had lived in your cabin once, and much like you, she had a house and a mind full of secrets and spells. Your grandfather died before you were born, and that was when your grandmother hauled all her things to buy this cozy nook of Everbrook.

And every Halloween, she would whisk you and your siblings away to celebrate. The town loved Halloween and was known for its fairs and parades. And it’s dark corners.

To tourists, just like you were as a kid, whispers of vampires, ghosts and witches were just silly ways to get them to buy merchandise.

But your grandmother swore by these stories, telling you to be careful of how you spoke ill of the supernatural. And it was only on your fourteenth birthday did you truly find out why.

You could never describe it, why your grandmother showed up on the dark and stormy night that was the eve of your birthday. It was like she knew something was going on, something bigger than just turning fourteen.

When you woke up the next morning, you couldn’t control anything. Things flew off your shelves before you could fully grab them, candles lit with nothing but a gentle blow of wind from your mouth, and when you went to school that day, an infamous bully had decided to pick on you the wrong day. You just glared at her, telling her to “eat frogs.”

As the first frog hopped out of her mouth, you stood horrified. Then the next one came. And the next one.

You didn’t stop running until you got home, where your grandmother sat, swirling her spoon in her cup of tea. Her hand didn’t touch the spoon. She told you that day of the truth. That every other generation, a child is chosen to become a witch in your family. Your father missed it. And she told you the story of your grandfather, a monster hunter sent to kill her. But something had happened on that mission, something no one could explain. They had fallen in love.

And for years, your grandfather was able to tell the entire hunting community that she was off limits. When he died, he told her to move to Everbrook.

“Why Everbrook?” You had asked, and she looked at you, with this mischievous smile.

“Surely you understand, my dear.” When you said nothing, she chuckled. “There’s magic there. Magic that keeps hunters from going anywhere near the place. That’s why there are so many monsters there today. Witches, like me and you, we’re harder to find. But vampires, ghosts, demons. They’re all real. And a lot of them live on sacred land like Everbrook.” She explained. “That’s why we must go, and I must teach you how to control your gifts—”

You stood up, seemingly horrified by this idea. You weren’t some kind of freak; you were totally normal. You had no reason to go with her.

“I’m not going with you! I’m nothing like you!” You stormed off to your room, inclining her to drop the topic for now.

Time and time again, your grandmother would encourage you to let her teach you. Instead, you sheltered yourself away from the world, focusing on maintaining the abilities you had. They terrified you. You were just a kid, how could you be a scary witch, something that was made up to scare small children into behaving?

So, you never went to your grandma’s house again. And you didn’t celebrate Halloween, and for a long time, you pretended. Pretended you were normal, when you went to college, in your relationships.

But the past eventually caught up with you when your grandmother passed away. She had left you her house in Everbrook, as well as a small sum of money. She had written you a letter, begging you to move there, to read her old books and to embrace who you were.

It took you almost a year, but you did.

That was a long time ago, and yet, it was also yesterday.

You lived a peaceful life in Everbrook. You learned how to at least properly manage your magic, not yet totally mastering it. You planted a garden and made sure your vegetables and herbs were always taken care of.  

You made friends with various groups of monsters, your favorite being a ghost that haunted your favorite coffee shop in town. You live a good life, one devoid of people chasing you and trying to kill you for what you could do. You were simple the village crazy person, always on the outskirts of town in your own little world.

Sure, Everbrook was a small, quaint town. A little too small at times, but you loved your small crazy time. Nothing went exceptionally wrong here.

That is, until you meet a monster hunter named Joel.

• • •

Okay, you don’t know he’s a monster hunter when you meet him. He doesn’t know you’re a witch, so what did it matter?

He had moved to Everbrook with a kid, Ellie. You wondered why. Why a man in his late forties, early fifties, would adopt a teenager, and why they would move to this strange little town, away from everything.

You meet him in the bookstore. You, in between tending to your garden and learning spells, are determined to learn how to bake. You’re a good cook, but baking doesn’t come nearly as easily to you.

He’s shopping for comic books when you see him. You note everything about him, letting your head tilt to the side as you examine him. He wears this green and black flannel, appropriate for this time of year. His jeans are this dark blue, and his boots have leaves sticking to the bottom of them. The roots of his hair, and small pieces of his beard, are gray.

You bite your tongue.

You’re suddenly seventeen years old, with your first real crush on a guy. He was your older brother’s best friend. You suppose you’ve always had a thing for older guys, then. It was just a habit you’ve picked up on. Not that you weren’t of an appropriate age, but there was still a gap.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?” He asks, not looking up from the comic he’s inspecting. Your head turns, trying to tell if he’s talking to you or someone else. Besides the bored employee at the front counter, you’re the only two people in the store.

“How’d you know I was staring?” He chuckles, looking up to you for the first time, and he’s struck by your appearance. You’re wearing these dangly crystal earrings, with lavender flowers sticking out of your belt. You wear boots too, although they’re much less dirty than his, and sticking out of them are bunched up woolly socks. You’re holding a basket, with a loaf of bread inside, as well as a jar of jam and some chocolates. Your shirt is this deep purple, and the sleeves become nice and flowy after your elbows.

“Just had this feelin’, darling.” Your cheeks flush at the nickname.

“This feeling?” You mutter to yourself, not really asking for clarification. You take a few steps forward, flipping through the comic books. You don’t look at him. “Looking for anything specific?”

“Comics for my... for a friend. Turnin’ fourteen, figured I should get her something.” He tells you. You cringe at the age, remembering your horrible fourteenth birthday.

“You have a friend that’s a fourteen-year-old girl?” You question, a light teasing tone to your voice. He gives you this look, one of sarcasm and disbelief, without a touch of annoyance or anger.

“Will you just give me a suggestion, or are you going to keep asking questions?” He asks.

“Touche.” You say, before pulling out a cool sci-fi one that had been recommended to you. “Here, get her this one.” You hand it to him, and he examines it for a few minutes, seemingly trying to get a grip on what it is and what the plot was. But, he figures his friend will enjoy it, so he glances back at you and smiles.

“Thank you,” He pauses, asking you for your name without asking for it. You tell him, and he still has this small smile on his face. “I’m Joel. Joel Miller. Am I gonna be seein’ you around?” He asks. You shrug.

“I live on the outskirts of town, in this little cottage. I only come into town every so often.”

“The old brick one with the overgrown garden?” You frown. “I live in that area, in the cabin with the blue mailbox.”

“My garden is not overgrown, Mr. Miller, it’s just full!” You defend. But it perplexes you, no one except introverts and people who want to stay hidden live in that area. You wonder what Joel Miller could possibly be hiding but convince yourself for the moment that Joel Miller is just an introvert. After all, that’s what you tell people when they ask about you. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Then I’ll see you around, Darlin’.” He hums, and nods to you, “Thanks for the help.” Then he goes to the counter to pay for the gift, and then he’s gone. You must have this perplexed look on your face, because the woman at the counter, Angela, just smirks as she rings you up.

“He’s handsome, huh?”

“What?”

“The guy you were talking to.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s not handsome.” Your face flushes. She laughs, although not maliciously. \

“Even fairies who live on the outskirts of town like you deserve love.”

“’m not a fairy...” You mumble as you make your way out of the shop, head turning down the sidewalks to see if you can spot Joel. When you can’t, you begin your long walk home, disappointment stabbing at you the whole time.

• • •

The next time you see Joel, you go to his house.

You don’t go to see Joel, but you made these homemade chocolate chip cookies, and they turned out a lot better than you expected. You want to share your creation with someone, so you head to the cabin with the blue mailbox in hopes of finding the young girl he lives with and giving her them as a birthday present.

You decide, on the off chance that you do see Joel, to wear this cute dark green jumper, with a black layered skirt, as well as your standard black boots. You put your hair up with a bandana and head over to your destination. It’s colder than it was the other day when you met him, but it’s nice.

In your basket, you keep the cookies, as well as a bundle of flowers from your garden. You knock on the door, and a young girl answers, her hair pulled back. She wears ripped jeans, an Adventure Time tee shirt and a long-sleeved black shirt under it.

“Uh... Can I help you?” She asks.

“Hi! Does Joel live here?” You’re sure he does, but you want to make sure just in case. The girl gets this smirk on her face, and you feel your ears go red.

“You’re the one from the bookstore.”

“…He told you about me?”

“Won’t shut up about you. I’m Ellie.” She smiles, and opens the door further, inviting you to come in. “He’s upstairs, I can grab him for you—”

“Uh, I’m actually here to see you.” She stops and looks at you. “He told me it was your birthday, and I decided to give you these.” You pull out the cookies and the flowers and hand them to her. She gasps at the sight of the cookies, delicately putting the flowers down before grabbing a cookie. She hums, looking to you.

“These are amazing! I haven’t had good cookies in so long, Joel isn’t much of a baker,”

“Neither am I, honestly. I’m still learning, but I figured it was your birthday and you deserve some.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She hums, finishing her cookie.

From the top of the stairs, you hear a familiar voice yell out, “Ellie, who was at the door?”

“Come down here and find out, old man!” You laugh, but quickly stop laughing when he comes down the stairs. His hair is wet from the shower. You want to scream at how good he looks. He just stares at you, and neither of you says anything until you decide to go first.

“Uhm, I brought cookies.” You say, “I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

“No, no, you didn’t intrude... I just, wasn’t expecting you is all.” He says honestly. You begin to look around a bit at your surroundings and realize that Joel and Ellie have been living the bachelor life, and there aren’t many boxes. You wonder if they had any boxes to begin with, since it seems they’re close but there’s something off about the whole dynamic. You can’t put your finger on it, but you see that Ellie clearly isn’t here against her will.

But who are you to judge? You live a witch’s life, and that isn’t something you share on a first date.

“Well, help yourself to a cookie,”

“Hey! You said these were my birthday cookies!”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, looking back at you. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, that would be nice.”  You smile, and he gets you one. “Would you like to go outside to talk?” You ask softly, and he just smiles and nods, grabbing a cookie before going out with you and your coffee. You lean against the porch railing, sipping your coffee. You wait for him to begin the conversation, suddenly quite nervous.

“So…How long have you lived in Everbrook?”

“A while. Are you gonna be here for a while?” You ask.

“I think so. I like it here, nice, and quiet.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” You hum. “How’d you wind up with Ellie?”

“I uhm… I adopted her. Knew her folks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...”

“’s alright...” He smiles gently and sips his coffee. “She liked that comic book you recommended, so thanks...”

“No problem. She’s a nice kid.” You smile.

“So, what’s your deal, Darlin’?”

“My deal?”

“You’re always dressed in these crazy outfits, and you have this dazed look about you. Like a little bunny.” Your face flushes, and you laugh.

“I just like living the simple life. So, what if I dress a little eccentrically? You dress like a lumberjack all the time, am I gonna see you chopping trees?” You tease, smiling gently. He laughs and it makes you all warm inside. Maybe he really likes you.

“No, no chopping trees for me.” he said gently, leaning against the banister.

“Well, what do you do for work?” He pauses and stares out into the forest ahead of him.

“I used to be a hunter.”

A chill runs down your spine, and you begin to think. It would make sense, his sudden showing up in Everbrook, his interest in you. But how does that connect back to Ellie? Why would he adopt a teenager in his line of work?

Why hasn’t he killed you, then?

“Yeah. My grandfather was a hunter. Until he met my grandmother, then he couldn’t do it anymore.”

Joel stays silent, sipping his coffee.

• • •

About a week goes by, and Joel shows up at your door. The top part of your door is swung open and you’re cooking dinner when he walks up the path through your garden. He calls your name into the open door, and you quickly appear. You grin at him, and then you notice the bouquet of wildflowers he holds in his hands.

“These are for you.” he says softly, and you take them, a large grin on your face.

“Thank you. They’re gorgeous.” You tell him.

“Pretty girl like you deserves pretty flowers.” He says, and your cheeks flush.

“Please, come in.” You tell him, opening the bottom of the Dutch door. He steps inside, and notices how warm it is. Not temperature wise, but there’s this feeling to it. Warm yellow lights, plants everywhere, the smell of dinner cooking on the stove. Somewhere from deeper in the house, music plays.

“What’re you cookin’?”

“Oh, I’m making chicken parm…Do you want to stay for dinner?” You’ve never asked anyone to stay for dinner, it’s a bizarre feeling.

“I’d like that.”

“Alright, good. Then set the table, and then we can eat.” You tell him. He hums and goes to do as he is told. Eventually, you manage to plate and serve dinner, sitting across from him. You watch him for his reaction to the food, and after a few bites he just hums lowly, and looks at you, pointing to the dish with his fork, not saying anything. You grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you for having me for dinner. I came over to apologize, really.”

“Apologize?”

“I didn’t mean to tell you I was a hunter. I know how off putting that could be for someone, to hear I hunted animals.”

You can’t confirm your suspicions that he was hunting more than just animals. So you let it go, in favor for him not pushing you and finding out that you were a witch.

“It’s alright, Joel. Everyone has to make a living somehow, right?” You hum. He smiles and nods. “So, where’s Ellie tonight?”

“Eh, I wanted to give her some time to herself.”

“Good man.” You smile, continuing to eat your food.

“Where’d you happen to come upon this little cottage?” He asks you, tilting his head.

“I inherited it from my grandmother.” You told him, a soft smile on your face, as there always was when you thought of her. “She was a good woman. She passed away when I was twenty-one.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He tells you, and you can tell by this look in his eyes that there’s something more to his sentiment. That this is a man who has known grief well and is haunted by it. You wonder if he toured the country killing people like you before or after he became good friends with grief.

“It’s okay. I got to move here and live a good life.” You confess, and this makes him smile again. Then, you can’t help but ask. “Why’d you move to Everbrook, Joel?” He tenses at your questions. You can tell he’s contemplating what to tell you. You know whatever he tells you will only be a half truth no matter what.

“Ellie got into some trouble where I used to live. Figured a place like this would be good for her. Safe.” You can tell it’s not a lie, but you aren’t satisfied with it. That’s when you realize you have to know. You do know that all hunters have the same tattoo, right above their inner elbow on their biceps. It’s always a bow and arrow, with the hunter’s initials incorporated into the arrow. You also know the tattoo is protected by some sort of seal that burns most creatures to the touch. You have to know. So, with a wave of your hand, subtly, the glass of wine Joel drinks from spills all over his flannel, and he huffs.

“Oh my god, here,” You start handing him napkins as he attempts to clean up the mess. He glances up at you, and his eyes have this look about them. Like he knows you were the reason it spilt. Then, he starts to unbutton and pull off his flannel before he suddenly remembers that you would see his Hunter’s mark. You realize he knows your plan and stand, going over to him and dabbing his flannel with your napkin.

“C’mon Joel, take the flannel off.” You sigh, and he says nothing. He slowly begins to pull off the flannel, but before you can really look for a tattoo, his hands are on your waist, pulling you between his legs.

He leans up and kisses you before you can see the tattoo. You put your hands on his cheeks and kiss back, bringing yourself closer to him. He hums into the kiss, standing up and walking, so that you’re up against your counter tops.

His hands are roaming your sides, and you groan softly into the kiss. The desperation you’ve had since you met him, it all comes to a head. Your hands first go to his hair, where they play with his hair, including the grays that threaten to push you over the edge.

Despite your suspicions that he wants to kill you, you want him desperately. You groan as he bites your lip, tugging it a bit, and you just moan. Your hand runs down his arm, because just for a moment, you forget the context of the kiss.

You pull away when your hand starts to burn, letting out a yell.

He looks terrified that you’ve found him out. Tears prick your eyes.

“I knew it..” You whisper softly, turning to run your hand under cold water. Joel’s tattoo glows, as it always did when anything supernatural touched it. “I think you should go.”

“Darlin’, I—”

“Go, Joel! I don’t want you here, just fucking kill me when I’m walking home from the market! Don’t kiss me like you want me when you’re here to kill me!” You snap, tears running down your face. He doesn’t say anything after that. He steps forward and kisses your shoulder gently.

He turns and leaves, and even though you tell him to leave, you turn back hoping to see him.

The worst part is that nothing makes sense anymore. He’s stronger than you. If he wanted to kill you, he could have. And how does Ellie fit into the situation, why would he move to a magical town with a teenage girl?

You’re frustrated, and your hand is burning. You cry some more as you attempt to clean the spilt wine, frustrated that it stains the rug that the table stands on. You were such an idiot, why would you let him kiss you? Why would you kick him out after?

You decide a cup of tea will help clear your mind, but you don’t stop crying all night.

• • •

The full moon looks beautiful tonight. You’ve charged your crystals and have done your monthly rituals to enable a prosperous month ahead. So, at around midnight, you go for a walk through the woods. Even though you know how dangerous it is. The woods, on nights like tonight, are full of werewolves. But most of them live in their own woods across town, so you don’t expect to have any problems.

As you’re walking, you’re thinking about Joel. You can’t help it, your kiss has you yearning for more, and you’re just desperate for him. You’re too deep in your thoughts to hear footsteps behind you, until someone grabs your arm and you’re pulled behind a tree.

And when you see Joel, you’re even more mad at him.

“What’re you doin’ here?!” He whisper-yells, and you glare.

“What are you doing here?! I’m allowed to go for walks whenever I want, you aren’t the boss of me!”

“Always so damn in your own mind, could you consider for a moment that I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay?!”

“You’re here to kill me!”

“I’m here to make sure Ellie doesn’t kill anyone or get herself killed!”

You stop.

“What...?” That’s when you hear it, a howl. It sends a shiver down your spine. And that’s when it all clicks. Joel isn’t hunting you; he isn’t here to kill you. Ellie isn’t a kid he adopted from a friend, she’s someone he’s assigned to protect. He used to hunt, but not anymore. “She’s a werewolf.” You look at him.

“And you’re a witch, are we all caught up now?”

“How’d you know?’

“Before the mark burnt you and you spilled my wine? I just knew. I hunted people for years, but you witches, you always have these cabins in the woods, and you’re always baking, and you always have flowers. It’s like y’all are one big stereotype—” He’s cut off by your lips on his, and his hands are on your hips again, pushing you against a nearby tree. You hum before he pulls away, starting to kiss down your neck.

“Joel...” You say softly, your hands in his hair.

“I’ve got you, sweet thing...” He mutters, biting down on your neck, leaving a mark.

Ellie howls again, closer now. It snaps you both out of your trance and you look to each other. He grabs your hand, and you make your way through the woods, back to your cabin. He’ll make sure you get home safe, and then he’ll continue to look after Ellie. But he hears it before you—Panting, pattering steps behind you.

“Run!” He tells you and you both take off. Twigs scrape the bottoms of your legs and your arms as you run, never letting go of Joel’s hand. Your skirt catches on one of these branches and you topple over, letting go of Joel’s hand. Before he can reach you, Ellie is on top of you—She’s smaller than other werewolves you’ve encountered but the weight of her fur is too much. She has you caged in, and she has this snarl on her face.

Then, the strangest thing happens. She starts to sniff your skin, as if trying to figure out who you are.

“It’s me, Ellie. It’s just me, ‘m not gonna hurt you, honey.” You tell her. And it’s as if a lightbulb switches inside of her head, and suddenly she’s licking your face, happy you’re here. You groan at the slober, and gently push her head away from you.

She backs off, letting you get up. You kneel back down to scratch her head.

“Why were we running if we knew she wouldn’t kill me?” You ask.

“Didn’t know that. She doesn’t attack me, but she’s attacked others.” He tells you. You hum, picking up a stick and waving it in front of her face, before throwing it as far as you can. She runs off to get the stick. It makes you laugh.

You stand fully now, glancing back to Joel.

“So…”

“I gotta finish looking after her. She’s my mission now.” You nod, stepping closer to him.

“Well..” You start, your hands on his shoulders. “You could at least kiss me again.” He grins and leans down, kissing you softly before pulling away.

 “Like that?”

“Hmm, I was thinking something with a little more passion...” You shrug. “It was okay, I guess.” You tease, and he smiles, then brings you in for a longer, deeper kiss.

You spend all night with Joel, looking after Ellie and kissing until dawn. When the morning comes, you go out in search of Ellie on your own, a blanket and some pajamas in hand. Joel’s searching the other way. You find her, cold and alone, huddled up by herself. You frown.

You crouch beside her and wrap the blanket around her, frowning softly.

“Sorry I licked you.” She says softly. You recognize the tone of her voice. Her shame in who she is. You empathize with it, remembering how horrible it was to be fourteen. You smile and hand her the clothes.

“Don’t worry about it.” You turn so she can get dressed, but the blanket remains wrapped around her shoulders. You realize she doesn’t have shoes on. You frown and pull off your boots, kneeling in front of her. You gently put your socks on her feet, and then your boots. You lace them up, and make sure they’re nice and tight. “There. Nice and warm.”

You glance back up to her, and you see tears running down her face. You frown and bring a hand to cup her cheek. She doesn’t have to say anything, you know she feels ashamed and embarrassed of her newfound abilities.

“Oh, honey… You don’t have to apologize. I was bitter and angry when I became a witch, and it destroyed me. You come from a very long line of werewolves, and—”

“I’m the first one. I got bit six months ago.” You frown. That’s why this wasn’t Joel’s first time watching over her on a full moon. And you’ve heard of werewolves biting kids before they’re fourteen and starting a new line of the creature.

“Then I’ll teach you. How to live this life, how to be happy in your own skin. It won’t be easier, but embracing who you are is so much easier than ignoring it. I’ll be here every step of the way, and so will Joel. We’re not gonna leave you to deal with this on your own.” You tell her, and when you stand up finally, she hugs you tightly. You smile to yourself and hug back.

“You two okay?” Joel asks when he finally finds you two. Ellie wipes her tears and smiles at him.

“Yeah, let’s go home. I’m sick of these woods, and I want breakfast!” she declares. You laugh, rubbing her back and beginning your walk to their cabin.

This is it, you decide. This man and this girl, they’re it for you. They are your happy ending, your family. Sure, it’s not the most conventional family, what, with a werewolf, a witch, and a monster hunter. But it’s yours, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thrilled to have them.

You have spent so many years longing for someone to see who you are and love you despite your freakish abilities. But all along, you were meant to be around freaks who are just like you. You are designed to be each other’s family, and you were always destined for the fate of your grandmother—To fall in love with a monster hunter and live a quiet life in Everbrook as you perfect your spells.

Joel looks back at you for a moment with this perplexed look on his face.

“Darlin’, where the hell are your shoes?”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller au #ellie williams #ellie williams x platonic reader #ellie williams werewolf au #joel miller monster hunter au #halloween fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #i hate this #i hate doing tags #not proofread

[waywardsunlight]

All The Owl House Lore

That I can remember at the moment, until Watching and Dreaming, Spoilers

A long time ago, there was a species that lived on the Boiling Isles called Titans. Four Collectors (and one baby Collector) came from the stars to collect and control their species, but the Titans fought back which led to the Collectors pretending to dress as Titans to kill them all because the Titan’s magic cancelled their magic out (inspiring the Titan trappers). The Collectors also trap creatures and turn them into scrolls, which is what happened to the Owl Beast. However, the final Titan protected it’s egg and locked the baby Collector in the In-between. In the 1600s, a witch named Evelyn found her way into the Human Realm, likely using Titan’s blood, which creates portals between the worlds. She met Caleb Wittebane, who had recently moved to Gravesfield after being orphaned. The brothers had a good relationship, and Caleb, who did a lot of wood working created Philip’s mask which he would continue to wear for a long time. They would play a game where Caleb would dress as a witch and Philip would be a witch hunter. Caleb didn’t agree with the practices of Gravesfield and they soon became friends and eventually partners, leaving messages in code for each other. They create a symbol together that is a bird that looks like a branch, and Evelyn either gives or creates Flapjack for Caleb, or he was a shared Palisman. At some point, the building which is now the Historical Society caught fire which is implied to have caused Caleb to flee to the Boiling Isles where he lived somewhere outside of Boneborough with his wife. His brother, Philip (our ... favorite unreliable narrator, came after him and wrote a bunch of information about the Isles in his journal and also his attempts at returning home. Philip carved glyphs on his arm, which caused him to transform into a monster. He approached Caleb alone and Caleb, seeing his monster form, accepted him. At some point they met up again, now with Evelyn. Philip attacked them, likely attacking Evelyn and their baby. This is likely when Flapjack got his scar and Evelyn hid the portal. Caleb tried to talk him down, but at some point it was just the two of them and Caleb was stabbed. Philip sat nearby and watched him bleed out, and then Evelyn returned, cursing Philip as he ran away. At some point Philip got ahold of Caleb’s body, and took him to the cave under the skull of the Titan where Philip eventually started working out of. He did at least four experiments with Caleb’s body before he met Luz. Caleb’s remains are still there. Philip came back to Boneborough, trying to get help, which is where he met Luz Noceda and Lilith Clawthorne. He thought he could con them, but Lilith catches on to him and in the end she punches him in the face, breaking his nose, not before Luz helped him find the Collector’s disk. Now that he has the Collector, Philip is starting to see his plans realized, and the cut on his nose turns green and his voice begins changing. Philip changes his name to Belos and creates his first few Grimwalkers, taking on his preacher persona. At some point he goes to the knee, begins experiments for the Day of Unity, and has a Grimwalker blow up a town which is the same destroyed town in season 1. Eventually he rises to power, establishes the coven system, and gains control of the Boiling Isles.  After Flapjack was injured or perhaps after Evelyn died, Flapjack ended up in the care of the Bat Queen, a Palisman who protects Palismen from harm. Her owner is missing but she thought it was a giant, and Luz promised to help her find them, but unfortunately we might never know due to time. This is where Flapjack stays until he meets Luz!

I probably missed some, there’s a ton of lore. I didn’t mention Darius and his relationship to the Golden Guards or Hagsquad lore or Manny or Cosmic Frontier and a lot of other stuff but this is just the general detailed lore we have from the best of my ability! :D 

#the owl house #so... so much #toh spoilers #long post #the owl house spoilers

[eric-the-bmo]

[John Doe, the Monstrous]

"Keep the wolf from the cattle."

"She's no safer with him than she is with you."

As a witch-cursed monster, John Doe is a man who only wants love; However, despite being confined to a human form, his monstrous instincts still reside- resulting in bouts of violent hunger, ruined relationships, and self-hatred.

After accidentally revealing his nature to the rest of the main characters, John has failed to repair his once-budding relationships with them, and most view him as a source of danger.

(An explanation for the quotes, each image, and the board in a unified picture will be under the Read More, as well as a bit of rambling):

It's been a while since I've made a board like this, and I forgot how strangely enjoyable it is to see it all come together.

There were multiple routes I could've gone for this board: his love for humanity, emphasis on his self-hatred and idolization issues, his violent hunger and how it ties into his want for love, but I went with the flow and ended up with a general board; a vaguely ominous one, with the blow softened by the query if he can be loved.

The quote below the board ("She's no safer with him than she is with you") is a direct line from John's story, where Louis states in a conversation with John he's as much a threat to Song as the current monster they're up against [John didn't take kindly to this statement, since while the monster is acting with ill intent, he himself is at least trying to be benevolent.]

Panel Elaboration: {going left to right, starting at the top row & working our way down}:

The antlers have been on his pinterest board for a while; it's a call to his deer imagery, and of coursse the fact he was heavily inspired by the Not Deer cryptid. He even grew a pair of antlers when he first revealed his more monstrous side.

I think with with how the hair is covering most of the face here- and how it's more of a side profile- only adds to the intrigue of this board. Something about how the lack of clear face only adds to the monstrous/cryptid energy. (perhaps turning away/leaving so others won't get hurt?)

The road illuminated by headlights is actually in reference to his backstory- upon turning into a human, he ran out onto a road and ended up meeting what would eventually become his first (and, currently, only) friend. The woods were also his primary hunting grounds as a monster, and can be seen on the edges of the road.

John's story mainly takes place in a suburb; Additionally his monstrous nature and instincts fully showed themselves during the Season One finale, when he was searching for a monster at midnight- so the time of the image fits great.

As mentioned before, the question of "but who could love me?" ties into John's core belief (that he cannot be loved if people know he's a monster) and one of his core character traits (desire for love and company). To me, this line, in tangent with the rest of the violent images, implies his sense of self-hatred.

As for the teeth: While John is inspired by the Not Deer, there's been a continuous trend throughout the story (and his official playlist) of associating him with dog/wolf imagery. Additionally, nearly every attack John has done has been with his maw.

John's second method of harm would be his claws; He hasn't used them much, but I wanted to include images for both of his attack methods- this could also be symbolic of his attempted self-restraint. Truly, I just needed to fill this part of the board up.

The term "witch-cursed" was used to describe John earlier in this post- around three years ago, John, as a monster, had attempted to attack a witch who was practicing a ritual in its woods. Her ritual backfired from its attack, resulting it being bound to a human form. This spiral of stones in a forest clearing is meant to be the ritual setup for the spell she was trying to attempt.

Finally, the bloodied sidewalk steps are meant to be for the scene in the Season One finale in which John attacked Song in a frenzy by attempting to tear out her throat. I feel like the image of blood adds to the image of him being a dangerous creature; if it weren't here, the message probably wouldn't have been properly conveyed.

His story's hiatus is ending tomorrow, and I'm looking forward for his tale (and subsequent suffering) to continue.

"He's a bit of a tragedy, isn't he?"

#that image of the eye and hair made me gasp so loud #and so cut to two hours later and i have an entire board #eric finally speaks #monster oc #oc aesthetic #john doe vibes #tw blood #oc moodboard #monster hunter oc #original character #motw oc #motw character #cryptid oc #monster of the week #monster of the week rpg #ttrpg oc #ttrpg character #motw #green #black #cursed oc #whump oc? #i think he counts as whump with all the pain i've given him #the neighborhood watch #zach palmer #monster of the week oc

[demidritch]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

repost and list five songs that inspire you to write your muse:

one. ptolemaea — ethel cain. two. metamorphosis — mastixa. three. get out of my house — kate bush. four. the magician — scarlet's remains. five. autoluminescent — rowland s. howard. bonus. dido's lament — john murphy.

list five quotes that inspire you to write your muse:

i. "i feel like something bad is going to happen to me. i feel like something bad has happened. it hasn't reached me yet but it's on its way." — alice palmer, lake mungo.

ii. "the thing laughed a laugh that sounded and smelled like drowning. YOU HAVE NOT A NAME FOR WHAT I AM, it purred, BUT SOME WOULD CALL ME ... and then the thing made a sound that might have been a word but felt more like a blow, and [i] flinched away from it." — old gods of appalachia, season 1 ep. 0.5: the witch queen.

iii. "i sleep more and more and in my dreams God says: you're done for and it only gets worse." — lynn crosbie, "no evil star," the corpses of the future.

iv. "you are a violent and irrepressible miracle. the vacuum of cosmos and the stars burning in it are afraid of you. given enough time you would wipe us all out and replace us with nothing— just by accident." — disco elysium.

v. "i am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside." — shirley jackson, the haunting of hill house.

bonus. "the devil is still with you. once he's looked into your eyes, a piece of you will be tethered to him, and he will pull it like a thread and unravel you bit by bit. the devil has a plan for you." — the GREYLOCK archives, tape 002: to the mountain.

tagged by: yoinked from @talentforlying tagging: whoever sees this!! tag me so i can see too <33

#✶ horror should have buried me. it didn’t. › character study. #standing emoji hello i am! Alive! just been swamped recently #slowly trying to become more active so have this #anyways holds joanne up by the Scruff <333 #long post /

[foreignerabroad1994]

Baby Hut: Writing Prompt Short Story

My response to the following writing prompt to u/MidKnightshade on the WritingPrompts subreddit:

[WP] After graduating with honors your grandmother Baba Yaga brought you a home. It’s the offspring of her house. It’s a tiny little hut right now but she explains it will get bigger as it gets older. However the hut is a little clingy, follows you everywhere since it’s afraid it will be abandoned.

"Baby, you can't come in here. They don't let in... houses. You need to stay in the car like I told you to."

Baby hut meowls, scratching at the rubbery floor of the supermarket's entryway with his little talons. The sound blows through the tiny door at its front porch, beseeching.

"You don't even eat food!" I try to reason with the little munchkin, my hands on my hips like a dad at the beach.

Baby hut isn't a fan of this reasoning, either. He bumps his shingly roof into my palm, and I wince as the edge pokes into my skin. I sigh.

"Fine, but don't touch anything, don't bump into anything, and stay close to me, okay?"

Baby hut teeters, his side window opening and closing. Grandma's hut usually did that with her back windows. I wonder at the genetics of sentient huts. I should probably name mine, but in two weeks of cohabiting with baby hut in my tiny studio apartment, inspiration hasn't struck yet. Maybe grandma can whip up a spell to help me think this through. I dismiss the thought - the whole point is relying on myself now. I'm a university graduate now, with a law degree, and can legally drink. I can also cast about twenty spells decently well, twenty three if you squint and ignore the green goo.

So I nudge the little bugger in with me, before stopping him and grabbing his leash. I then use it to fasten the small cart to his porch railing.

"There, you can help me carry things. Good little helper, you are." I smile fondly as baby hut preens, shaking around like a happy chicken, making a rickety noise as he does. His legs are still a bit too short, his talons still more like needles than massive blades. Grandma says they take a few years to grow big enough to live in.

It starts off pretty well. I introduce baby hut to the big refrigerated section with a flourish, explaining how one day, he too will house a fridge. Baby hut is fascinated, the two twin windows at the front of the attic, just above the front porch, widening with a wooden creak of delighted awe.

I toss some vegetables into the cart, ignoring the baffled stares of the other shoppers as baby hut patters after me clumsily, the cart wheeling behind him.

It's when I turn the corner into the Halloween aisle that things take a dive. Literally.

At the screechy display of cheap plastic decor with a pretty offensive cackling witch at the bottom, baby hut grinds to a stop. At the top of the display is a large skeleton, a plastic thing, waving its hand up and down like those cat figurines I saw in Chinatown. Before I can haul him away, baby hut howls happily through his chimney and begins frantically climbing up the crates covered with ugly orange and black felt.

"Baby hut, no! That's not uncle Sheldon!"

But baby hut is squealing happily, barely noticing the contents of my cart flying out to the floor or all around, dousing a truly horrified woman with a cross around her neck with almond milk that explodes on the floor. Oranges tumble away and trip an older man, who crashes to the side and tumbles over a selection of, thankfully, newly launched seasonal toilet paper. It's pumpkin spice scented, which is vaguely horrifying.

"Baby hut, get back here right now!" I try to grab for him, but he's too quick, his stumpy legs hopping further up as fabric and plastic slide all around him, some sticking to the ends of his talons.

"What is going on here!?" an outraged store managers storms into the aisle, her face contorted in outrage.

"My... hut is a bit confused, I just need to-"

"Get that thing out of this store right now, before I call..." she sputters, likely not sure if she should call animal control, the cops, or the nearest asylum.

"I'm trying!" I say as I make another unsuccessful grab for baby hut. He finally gets to the top of the pile, nudging at the automatic waving hand that's still impressively attached to the cheap skeleton, requesting pets. When the hand goes up and down, baby hut jumps up towards it, prepared to play. When he loses his patience within seconds, he nudges the skeleton roughly till it tumbles and drapes over his roof. And then he takes off, jumping off the pile of crates and chaos and running into another aisle.

"What in the world-" a man clutches his box of chicken fingers to his chest as I race by him, right on baby hut's tail.

"Sorry!" I yell behind me as I hear a crash closer to the exit.

It takes almost thirty minutes to catch baby hut, who, it turns out, can climb rather high, and refuses to come down off of the shelves for half that time, jumping around, convinced this was an elaborate scheme to amuse him. At least three employees try to coax him down, but he isn't having any of that.

When I have my arms wrapped around the little baby, his short chicken legs are frantically jostling us both, but I don't let go as I look up from the floor, covered in some stains I probably won't be able to take out of these clothes, my hair a riotous mess of black curls around my head, and three store employees and several customers looming over me.

"Out," the store manager strains, a vein nearly popping in her increasingly purple-looking forehead.

I nod, muttering apologies nobody hears, and hustle the windowed menace out of the store.

I buckle him into the passenger seat, slug my way around the car, and slip in. I close the door and look at him, frowning.

"That was not okay."

Baby hut looks almost sheepish, closing the curtains of his front windows.

"No no, you don't get to-"

But I stop myself. It's on me, bringing the little chicken house with me just because he made a... face. I sigh and pat his roof.

"I think I finally have a name for you."

Baby hut opens one curtain.

"Let's go home, Jerry. I'll put on some YouTube videos for you. I actually wanted pizza today anyways."

Jerry meowls as I pull out of the parking lot, calling for pizza on speed dial - and drive my future house home.

#short story #short stories #creative writing #writingprompts #reddit #fantasy #witch #baba yaga #comedy #funny story #awwwww #awwcutepets #cutepets #weird story #weirdnamenowthatimrereadingit #housescanbecutetoo #wellitsnotahousetechnically #writing practice #fiction writing #character dialogue

[writing-frenzy]

Misadventures of a Unknowing Tired God, an Unlucky Adventurer Cinnamonroll, and the Feral Good Boi

Summery: (Or, Three different types of Dumbasses against the world, all sharing the braincell at a time.)

So.... I did not expect my story to blow up like it did. I am so glad everyone liked it, so I figured I’d share this one as well. Again, I was inspired by the SAGAU, with the works of @nicebonescomrade and @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry being so awesome. Though this time, I also put in my own headcannons and worldbuilding, so I hope you guys don’t mind! This story is full of some light hearted, funny adventures of our best boys with reader, though there is some angst here and there. All the same, I hope you all enjoy it!

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

Weapon Training

“Here we go, one of these should do the trick.” Bennett says, dumping out a whole lot of books and funny orbs. “Though, you’ll probably at least need to read the magic guide first before you actually start with any spells, and maybe give a few of the apprentice notes a look through.” The seasoned adventurer says, before picking a few of said books out and giving them to you to ready.

“Are you sure I can use these?” You can’t help but ask rather dubiously, picking up one of the books, blinking at how warm it feels to the touch. Razor blinks with you, sniffing one of the books he’s holding as well, before sneezing. You can’t help but laugh when you see the disgusted face he holds, dropping the book back onto the pile without a care.

You had asked the boys about you possible learning a weapon a bit ago, though unsure where to start, not really wanting a blade, but feeling no where near confident with a bow. But after hearing about your hesitance, you really weren’t expecting what Bennett suggested.

“Yeah, Catalysts, especially grimoires and tomes, can be used by anyone as they usually pull on the magic in the book itself and the mental energy of the person using it. Vision bearers are just able to cut down even more on cost of power by using the elemental energy as well.... Hmm, like comparing a Treasure Hoarder Potioneer with Klee; both Catalyst users that focus on exlirs and compounds, but Klee will have them beat in power and stamina usually because of how she has Three energies she can use to impower her weapon, compared to the Treasure Hoarder with only two and a body not as enhanced.” Bennett explains, making you blink.

Huh. So, you’ll never be as scary as Lisa or Klee, but you might be able to run away faster if you ever need to. (you’ve already ran from the purple witch, you do not want to have to ever again. you don’t even want to think about the adorable arson child being after you, ever.)

Looking over the books, you read over them, Bennett answering what he can, while Razor some, someway, builds a fort of books all around you guys. (When did you ever have that many books?)  

But as it is, armed with knowledge, you grab an apprentice note, just in case of any mishaps so that you three can take care of, and say your first spell.

“Whoa!”

“Grrrrrrh”

....

Somehow, the book fort is both on fire and freezing over. Every attempt after that....

“Ah! Hot, Hot!”

“Flowers, lots of flowers.”

Welp... apparent earth can melt, and wind can go more green then you expected.

“Ah, pratice makes perfect, right?’ You can’t help but say to Bennet’s and Razor’s exhausted stares.

(Your practice is now every other day, and you have to feed the two a good, meaty meal afterwards, even as the two teens look half-dead from exhaustion from the day.

More then worth it, after you were able learn to shield your friends from some Treasure Hoarder attacks, even able to heal them a little.)

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

A bit of a Reach

“I’m telling you, I can reach it!” You can’t help but say, even as you glare at how Razor is facing off with the ameno slime, the two seeming to have a conversion with their eyes.

“Watch. Careful. Make sure they no fall.” the wild child actually cautions the slime, to which the creatures bobs their body to, those wide, orange glowing eyes ever so serious.

“Ahhh, come on! Bennett, you know I can- Don’t you pretend to be asleep on me!” You try to at least try and reason with Benny, who can at least get Razor to do what he wants more easily, only to find the boy cuddled in a slime pile, him and the slimes all pretending to be asleep.

Rather terribly at that, seeing how they open an eye every now and then to check if your were watching.

Sometimes, you regretted sharing the joy that is slime pillows with the boys... (But honestly, scenes like this, where you see them being so cute, is honestly worth it.) 

But you will not let this adorableness get to you today! You can climb up this tree, and you will be able to gather eggs for today’s breakfast! You’ve climbed in worst situations, heck, you’ve had to sleep in a tree before. Sure, you’ve fallen from a cliff, which Razor saved you from by catching you before continuing to climb up... But that is different! The tree is not that high!

(In the end, grumbling, you let the large slime follow you up the tree, having to hid your smile a bit; still, it’s nice to know someone cares so much.)

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

Unexpected Hiding Spots.

“This... Will work?” Razor asks question, even as you try and hide your panic.

“We really have no time! The guards will be around here any minute now!” Oh, why did you think it would be such a good idea to wander so close to the city, you know those guys have it out for you since your last ‘visit’. (Not as bad a Liyue at least, but yeah...)

As it is, the best you can do right now is hide in a Barrel and hope for the best.

“Maybe a tree would be better at least maybe? Or we could distract-” Bennet also tries, even as you fit yourself into the barrel as best you can.

“No time! But yes, please distract the best you can!” You can’t help but yelp as you fall in, only to blink as you feel something soft.

Huh?

On Bennet and Razor’s parts, both try and act natural, playing cards on their new ‘table’ as the guards approach.

To the boy’s misfortune, they are apparently suspious, the guards insisting to look in the barrel, while the boys try to do all they can for them not to open it. It unfortunately fails, for the guards to reveal the-

Whooosh!

-Ameno slime stuck in the barrel.

“...Ah, look, I know slimes are cute and all boys, but that doesn’t mean you can keep them as a pet; we’ll look it over this time, but don’t let us catch you trying to barrel another one.” The guard scolds the two dumbfounded boys, who mechincally nod at those words before the patrol leaves.

Just as the slime spits you out.

Windy slime- one interesting texture, that’s for sure. (Though oddly enough, it smells really good.)

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

Nightmares

Each of you have your own inner demon to fight; times where you wake up in the night, sobbing as you remember all the hateful eyes that once stared at you,  from Characters you spent so much time and love on. How the nightmares twist it even so, making it seem like even Razor and Bennett leave you as well.

Those days, you tend to cling a little harder, before you fear you’re going to make them hate you for that too. Bennett always has a too understanding look on his face those days, easily holding your hand, never letting go even as you go about your day. Razor merely takes every chance he has to feed you, gently pinching your waist before frowning, muttering too thin and such at times.

One night, after a nightmare of mobs from the three nations seemed to combine together, your voice hoarse from your screams, Bennet heats you a warm water bottle while Razor covers you with blankets, the three of you quiet for a long time.

“Somedays, I wonder if my luck will get so bad... that no will want me around.” is what breaks the silence, making you look over into such hurt, hollow green eyes, you can’t help but gasp. “That I won’t even have a home to call my own.”

“That all of the adventure guild, that the entirety of Mondstadt will throw me out, and tell me to never come back. That they didn’t want something as unlucky as me to stain their home.” Bennett cried, the memory nightmare still haunting him even as he told you about it. You and Razor drag him over, both you and him teary eyed, Benny started to hiccup as he did.

“Lupical... dead.. gone. Human Lupical and Wolf Lupical... Fighting forever.” Razor whispering, no tears in his own eyes, but oh, the pain in them shining like blood in his ruby eyes, the wound seeming to be rubbed with salt.

It is how you three go to sleep that night; tear stained and tangled around each other, feeling let out and heard in the open.

(No way do you feel healed; more like something drained some pus from an infected wound of sorts, some probably still needing to be pushed out... but it is a start.)

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

Rain Dancer

You watch, eyes nearly alight as you consider the clouds rolling across the skies, the hum of thunder distant but all the more felt as grey covers once blue skies.

“Ah, looks like your luck couldn’t last forever.” Bennett looks so sheepish, rubbing the back of his head, even as green eyes worry over the sight of the coming storm before them. Razor is merely sniffing the air a bit, before motioning you two over to follow, his nose and memory already probably mapping out all the safe places around.

You have thought it once before many a time, but by Teyvat are you glad these boys are the ones traveling with you. (You don’t deserve it, don’t deserve them, but goddamn does someone need to punch whoever gave Bennett his luck, and it might as well be you and Razor.)

But even as you all go to one of the many caves Razor seems to know about, with a friendly Hilchurl Camp nearby even, (probably by the talent domain for Mondstadt then), you can’t help but look out at the incoming rain.

You have an idea; probably a stupid one... A really stupid one.... but an idea.

“Hey, you okay?” is asked, Benny’s voice breaking you from your thoughts, even as you look over to the teen, looking into those ever so warm green eyes, so welcoming and kind, like the warmth of a home’s hearth. (Eyes that see you and do not judge, do not hate, and have only ever been so generous and kind and understanding to you.

“Somedays, I wonder if my luck will get so bad... that no will want me around. That I won’t even have a home to call my own.” 

“Hey Benny, you ever danced in the rain?” You can’t help but ask, watching as lightning of surprise dances through those eyes, before with a laugh, and the Pyro User’s yelp, you drag the other into the storm, the rain gentle on the skin, with no lightning around besides that caught in the green eyes before you. 

The two of you don’t really dance, more like you’re just twirling around, occasionally slipping every so often before you catch each other. You’re pretty sure you’ve at least seen Razor sigh at you two, even as he goes about setting up the cave’s camp. (there was a reason you could consider him the one who mostly holds the braincell.)

But feeling this moment, the cool refreshing feeling of the rain on your skin, the warm hands holding yours, Bennett’s laughs and whoops of joy as you twirl him before he returns the favor, you can’t help but grin. 

You could feel like you can sing; in fact, you do. You don’t remember all of the song, but... that doesn’t matter here.

“~It’s not always rainbows and butterflies, it’s compromise that moves us alooooong!~” You start, your eyes closed, missing how Bennett’s grown wide, how the entire world around you seems to take a breath, Razor’s own eyes wider at the scene before him.

“Wao...”

“~I told you so many times and darling I want mooooooore! I don’t mind spending everyday, out on the corner in the pouring rain, ohhhh!~” the rain almost seems to mist around you, a little circle that seems so peaceful, crystalflies of all elements coming out, a rainbow of color surround two from all around.

“~Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while. and she wiiiiiiiiill be loved.~” Bennett can even see other beings braving the storm, the Hilchurl Camp at the side watching, their bodies relaxed, no weapons in sight as they do. Slimes of all types and sizes seem to hover as close they can, seeming to try and listen in as closely as possible.

And the one at the center of it all, a beautiful, heartfelt smile on your lips, sing to you soul’s content, regardless of all who are listening, before you sing the final verse of what you know.

“~and she will be loooooved!~”

(Just in time too, for the rain to end, and a beautiful rainbow to appear behind the wave of crystalflies.)

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

Bennett and Razor: Both smart people in their own ways, both not at all idiots, even with their luck and feralness.

Also Bennett and Razor: Don’t realize just how strange it is that the world loves reader.

XD but yeah, More of my bias is shown here, as one can see. But I was struck with the thought that honestly, unless these two boys take Reader to Wolf Boss, they probably would never, ever realize that Reader is God of Gods, because how they grew up is completely ridiculous.

For Bennet: Oh, the world seems to hate me, why not have someone it loves?

Razor: God of Gods? Food? Lupical?

And Thanks to them, Reader is now also under the impression that they look really similar to this ultra God or something... (And wondering what their ancestors were up to... hopefully nothing like Zesus)

But yeah, I hope you all enjoy it, thank you all for the kindness with this story.

#Genshin Impact #Genshin Razor #Genshin Bennett #SAGAU #self aware genshin #I am tired so sorry if the quality drops here and there #Thank You all again for the love and comments

[jay-zzz87]

Random TOH questions because I am bored. I found these questions on Twitter (I'll link them in the source) but I just thought why not.

Favorite Character?

Willow and Hunter. It's hard to pick just one, but they are definitely my favorites. Hunter is too relatable and Willow is just wholesome.

Least favorite character?

Kikimora. I think it's pretty self explanatory but she did try to kill Hunter and is nothing but a kiss ass.

If you were in hexside, would you study more than 1 magic or just 1? And tell which ones!! (Basically what track would you be in)

I think it depends. If I was given the choice to study more than one track then I probably would. And it would be healing and bard. If I could only study one then it would just be bard.

Favorite ship?

I don't know weither to count Lumity since they are an official couple now. If not then Raeda.

Favorite crack ship?

Goldric or Huntira. Can't pick but people draw the ships so soft and it's cute.

Promote yourselfs ! edits, art, fanfics, anything!

Hi. Welcome to my tumblr.

What's your favorite piece of crew art?

This is one that Dana drew. I love the crew's art so much but this is so relatable because I have a bird and he is the same way.

8. If you could be one character, who would you be?

Raine. Purely because they can play the violin and I play the violin.

9. According to your friends, what character do you remind them of? (Ask friends!/nf)

A majority of them said King because I crave destruction. Others said it was because I'm short. I'M NOT THAT SHORT OK?

10. Top kinnie?

Hunter, all the way.

11. Any theories of what will happen in season 2b?

I think that Lumity might break up and get back together. I have more but there's things I'm not entirely certain about. So that's all I'm gonna share.

12. What ship would you KILL for to be canon?

That's actually a good question. If you sked me before season 2a I would've said Lumity. But now I don't really ship anyone else other than Raine and Eda. But even then it seems like it's going to become a thing so I don't really have one.

13. If you were a demon, what species would you be? Biped? Witch? Human? Griffins? Bug? Or beast? All up to you? And whichever you choose, is there a reason why?

If I were to choose, I would choose witch. But I feel like I would be a biped.

14. If you lived in owl house.. would you rather live in the demon realm, or human realm?

Demon Realm. The human world is boring compared to the demon realm. It would be a very interesting place to see.

15. Favourite adult? (Ex: raine, eda, camila, lilith, basically hags/hj )

Raine because I would like take bard lessons from them. And Camila because she reminds me of my mom.

16. Favourite teenager? (Ex: willow, gus, amity)

Hunter and Willow. I've said why in question one.

17. If you had a palisman, what would it be?

My bird Luca. He is a budgerigar bird.

18. Emperors coven, wild witch, or one track?

Emperor's coven. I'm a competitive person so I would always strive for the top. Ofc being a wild wotch would cross my mind, but i don't wanna be held in the comfomitorium.

19. Favorite Owl House AU?

Belos adopts Luz AU. I just like writing about it. Even if I don't have the time.

20. Whats a thing you LOVE about owl house?

Man I can't even pick one. There's so many thing that I love about this show. I guess the fact that it inspired me to start writing. That and the lore behind it all. There is so much mystery behind and it always blows my mind away when a new episode is released.

21. A thing/someone thats very underappreciated in owl house?

Willow and Gus's magic. HOLY SHIT ARE THEY POWERFUL. I don't think people realized the amount of potential these two characters have. There are so many questions I have about them and about their powers. It's evident that they are not like the average teen so I would like to see more background knowledge about them.

There are more questions, but they are about opinions on certain things so I'll do them later.

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #the owl house amity #lumity #luz x amity #willow #toh eda #toh hunter #toh gus #toh willow #camila toh #toh season 2 #save the owl house #the owl house raeda #toh raine

[javisjeanjacket]

I am HERE for spooky season!! I’d love to see prompt 29 with Marcus Moreno (and maybe with Missy making an appearance 👀)

Nova!! Thank you so much for requesting and letting me use your blurb event as inspiration!! You’re the absolute best

Prompt 29- scaring someone for funsies

Warnings: spiders, fluff :)

"Hey, babe can you grab Missy's lunchbox from the fridge?" Marcus's voice rang out across the house. He was in your bedroom, still on a call he had received from the Heroics earlier in the morning. 

"Sure thing." You responded, leaving the steaming pot of coffee you had just brewed in it's place to open the refrigerator. 

Missy bounded down the stairs just as you opened the door, a cool waft of air blowing across your skin, and you heard a devious chuckle from the dark haired girl as she entered the kitchen behind you. 

You grabbed the handle on her lunch bag and pulled it towards you, not realizing that it wasn't zipped shut, causing the contents to fall upon your sweater and shoes. You couldn't make out what the falling objects were until they landed, but as soon as you did, you let out a primal shriek.

Spiders! Spiders had fallen from Missy's lunchbox and landed on you!

You shook your feet to rid yourself of them, but one was caught in the thick fabric of your sweater. You grabbed it, huffing and puffing with fear, and suddenly realized-

They were mere pieces of delicately decorated plastic in the shape of spiders.

You hung your head and let out a big sigh. You shifted your weight and put your hands on your hips in embarrassment.

Missy squealed and laughed as she watched the scene play out before her.

Marcus was quick to join the two of you in the kitchen when he heard the commotion. He still held the phone in his hand and his mouth fell open at seeing that he'd missed the fun. He half-smiled as he looked at your forlorn face. His cheeks filled with warmth at the sight of his daughter so happy.

"Baby, we were just teasing you. Just getting you in the spooky mood, right Missy?" Marcus's voice was tender but filled with amusement. He looked from you, down at his daughter, and then back to you.

"Right." Missy said with a confident smile.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "Very funny." You smiled back at them, then bent down to begin to picking up the spiders. 

Marcus and Missy joined you and, as soon as he was close enough, your partner ran a comforting hand across your back. "You're not mad at us, are you?"

You cocked an eyebrow and smirked at him playfully. You held his gaze a moment, then dropped the play upset act and replied, "Of course not. I just need to start planning my revenge now."

Marcus laughed and Missy giggled as she began to place the spiders she'd gathered in a line on the kitchen island. 

You and Marcus dumped your plastic spiders on the island and he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms were warm and tight around your sides. His chest was strong under your cheek and you let out an involuntary sigh as you melted into his grasp. He smelled like the alpine shower gel he loved and the cologne you bought for him. He adjusted his glasses then pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "There's my baby." 

Spooky SZN Blurb Event!

MARCUS TAGLIST: @mndalorians @supernovafeather @artsymaddie @apples-of-february @alwritey-aphrodite @disgustedchild @okilover02 @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @mrschiltoncat @darnitdraco @marvelousmermaid @jenrebloggingfics @petersunderoos96 @a-skov @yoditorian @knivesareout @princess76179 @coldlilheart @voteforpedro09 

GENERAL TAGLIST: @over300books @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @ntlmundy @myheart-pedro @intu-witch-tion @frietiemeloen @greeneyedblondie44 @mssbridgerton @amneris21 @disasterhann @aana4664 @freeshavacadoooo @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @goddessofsprings 

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno #spooky season #hai writes #marcus moreno fluff #we can be heroes #nova tag

[lucysometimeswrites]

Hey can you please make a award season one but for a latina reader, if you would like you can keep the tom element. Sorry I'm asking again I accidentally deleted the last ask I made. I love your writing, you are amazing.❤️☺️

thank you thank you so much ur so sweet and of course! here you go and i hope you like it :) absolutely loved writing for latina!reader 

Awards Season (latina!reader)

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“Here to present the award for Best Actress in a Leading Role, please welcome Meryl Streep!” the host announced. A roar came from the audience at the mention of her name, the very acclaimed actress welcoming the attention and making her way to the microphone.

“Oh, stop it” she said and waved them away, earning a laugh and even more cheering from the theatre. “If I’m honest, I really considered not presenting this award because it breaks me inside to give the Oscar to someone else when it’s rightfully mine” she said in a funny, raspy evil voice, resembling a witch, “But you know, sharing is caring or whatever. Alright let’s get to it.” she continued dejectedly, still joking.

“This year, we have been blessed with beautiful films and, along with them, incredible performances from beautiful and talented actresses. Viola Davis, your abilities to embody different characters and raise awareness to ongoing issues in society has always amazed us, and it does once again in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”, Meryl announced, the camera going to Viola who was sitting about 10 seats to my left, the audience (including me) applauding and praising her. Literally all of her performances are incredible.

Could I still believe I was here? Definitely not, and not any time soon. From small skits to my big break with Tom Holland in a stupid rom-com that I didn’t even want to make, to now. Tom knows it’s nothing against him, it’s just that I haven’t learned to appreciate romantic comedies the way he has, but the thing I loved most from doing it was finishing it with Tom. He had become such an important person in my life since that moment, what with guiding me through the newfound world of fame and being there for me when I joined the Marvel franchise, it was just more than I could ever dream of. Now I sit here at the freaking Oscars, with Tom Holland as my date, and having done one of the greatest films ever, nothing could keep the smile off my face. Or the nerves.

 My leg kept bouncing up and down, a nervous action I often did and one that the guy beside me had caught on to real quick when we first met. His warm hand gently squeezed my thigh, and I turned to look at him a little surprised.

“Hey, it’s okay” he softly said, his gaze soft and comforting.

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it” I answered in the same tone, whispering a thank you and letting my hand rest on top of his, weirdly interlocking our fingers. 

Meryl turned to where Olivia Colman was sitting, “Your Majesty,” she started, referencing her portrayals of royalty and causing her to chuckle, “your moving performances have always left us wanting more, and I’m sure that is what I and everyone felt when we saw you in The Father” a big smile broke out on her face, and cheering ensued once more for our queen, or at least one of mine.

“Aging is some we all go through...unfortunately,” Meryl uttered into the mic, touching up her almost white hair, “and you, Cynthia Erivo, made us relate to your character this way with your brilliant acting in Reaching 39″, that woman is simply amazing, I thought as I clapped and cheered with the audience.

“My dear Kate,” the camera panned to Kate Winslet, who just stared fondly at the woman on the stage, “watching you grow as an actress has been one of the pleasures of my life and you reach new heights both professionally and literally in Misdemeanors”, she is such an icon, oh my.

Finally, Meryl Streep turned to look at me in the front row with a grin on her face, and I quickly got into “camera mode”, as I like to call it. I sat up straighter, looking at her with gentle eyes and smile. 

“Señorita Y/N Y/L,” she started with the heavily accented Spanish word for Ms., “with your entrance into the world of filmmaking, you have set new expectations for all of us to reach. Even though this is your first nomination, I feel in my heart it won’t be the last, and we can’t wait to see more of you like we saw with your extraordinary performance in Paraíso” she finished, bringing a big smile to my face at her words. Turning to the camera, I became a bit shy and gave a small wave, feeling Tom squeeze my hand in comfort and another hand on my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Salma Hayek, one of my co-stars in the film, who gave me a strong nod and smile, loudly saying “Eso!” as a cheer for me.

“And the Oscar goes too...” ayyyyy no ay no que nervios que nervios que nervios me muero- all of this going through my head repeatedly but having to put on a smile and a calm façade for the camera was exhausting. Tranquila, tranquila, si no ganas está bien igual solo el hecho de estar aquí ya es lo más-

“Y/N Y/L, Paraíso!” Meryl announced, and all I heard were screams and loud clapping from around me. 

Shocked, I looked up with wide eyes and my jaw going slack a little. I felt a buzz fill my body and the idol on the stage beckoned me up, when I realized I hadn’t moved. I slowly stood up and instantly turned to Tom who quickly pulled me into his arms with a strong hug and whispering in my year, “I knew it! I knew you would do it darling. I’m so so proud of you babe, go get your award!” not giving me a chance to answer as he gave me a quick kiss and turned me around in the direction of the stage. Still in a bit of a daze, I didn’t see Salma, Eugenio (Derbez), and Benicio (del Toro) make their way to me, ambushing me in a group hug as they started jumping around and sort of with me, chanting “EH! EH! EH!” like Latinos at a party and causing me to laugh and come back to my senses. I hugged them all and continued to the stairs, stopping to hug my directors Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón. 

I lifted my dress as I ascended the steps, and in true nervous fashion, stumbled and almost face planted in front of thousands of people. 

“Uy, mierda” I chuckled to myself, and accepted the help of none other than Chris Evans who lent his arm for the remaining steps. I thanked him with a smile and after his Congrats!, I made my way to Meryl who held the famous award in her hands. She handed it to me and pulled me into her embrace, saying “Beautiful job, sweetheart, you’re amazing”, and all I could answer was “Oh my, thank you so much, you’re the amazing one”, sharing a laugh with her and standing in front of the mic.

I looked out into the audience, who were still giving me a standing ovation. Almost like a camera in my head, I tried to ingrain this moment in my mind and took a deep breath, starting my speech.

“God, I really hope I don’t forget any words in English right now” I said with a breathless laugh, inciting one from the people below me. “Thank you so much. Thank you to...um...so many people. To the Academy for this great, great honor. To my fellow nominees for inspiring me every single day. Being in the same room as you is already insane, let alone being nominated with you, it’s just- it’s truly out of this world. Viola, Olivia, Kate, Cynthia, you are my literal idols and if I could physically cut this Oscar into five pieces,” I said as I made a motion of cutting the award and humoured the audience, “I would give a piece to all of you. Um, thank you to my team, my agent, Victoria, te adoro y te agradezco for believing in me and helping me live out my dream. Sorry, I’m probably gonna switch between languages during this.” I said with a laugh. 

“Paraíso was a project that, for me, came out of nowhere. But for my extraordinary directors los señores Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón, it was a life’s work so to you, gracias por darme la oportunidad de darle vida a Marielos and for giving me the experience of a lifetime. Salma, Eugenio, Benicio, Gael, and all the cast and crew, thank you for becoming my second family and supporting me every step of the way. It has been my honor to work with you” I said with a hand on my chest, showing that I was speaking from my heart and smiling at the kisses and cheers sent to me from them, hearing a crazed Te amamos! from Eugenio. It eased the tension in my body which I was incredibly thankful for. 

“I also want to thank-” I stopped, getting a little choked up, “ha, sorry, it’s my family that couldn’t be here” I said, a wave of claps and cheering in comfort came from the audience. Quickly composing myself, I continued, “Ya, okay. All the way back home, lo hice! Familia, les dije que no les iba a agradecer si me ganaba un Oscar algún día por no creer en mi y hoy es ese día, pero no me lo perdonaría si no les agradezco. Gracias por apoyarme a pesar de que yo sé que les dio un ataque que quisiera ser actriz. Gracias por siempre estar ahí para mi, por quererme incondicionalmente y por enseñarme que trabajando duro todo se puede lograr. Los amo infinitamente.” I finished, with tears threatening to roll down my eyes. I tilted my head to the sky to prevent them from falling, and with a deep breath I turned to Tom who had his hands in a prayer stance while looking intently at me, the same smile from before still gracing his face.

“Tommy...” I started, and the audience audibly awed at the nickname, “Oh, you don’t even know what I’m gonna say to him” I said with narrowed eyes, but my gaze found my love once more.

“Thank you so much for being my rock ever since we met. I’m beyond thankful for you and all you do for me, baby. You make me the happiest and thank you for pushing me to do things that scare me. For being there for me in case I fall and for being my person. Te amo, amor.” I blowed him a kiss which he caught and jokingly used to wipe his tears, making me and the other celebrities laugh.

Please wrap up, I read from the screen, and let out and “Ay, perdón! I gotta wrap up sorry sorry” hurriedly finishing up my speech. 

“Lastly, this award goes out to all the Latina girls out there with big dreams. Nunca se den por vencidas. No dejen que nadie les diga que no porque de que se puede, se puede. Querer es poder! I love you guys, my fans oh my gosh, thank you thank you, gracias!” I rushed out, raising the award to the air with one last big smile as Meryl guided me backstage to answer some questions. Just before I was off sight, I turned and looked out to the stage once more.

Lo logré...

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once again, disclaimer, movie names are mostly fictitious. feedback and requests always welcome!

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #latina!reader #tom holland x latina!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines

[rosalyn51]

How Matthew Goode and negronis led to James Purefoy's casting on A Discovery of Witches

Purefoy plays Goode's vampiric father on the show's second season.

By Maureen Lee Lenker Jan 7, 2021

James Purefoy and Matthew Goode have been friends and colleagues for years, but it was a round of negronis that led (in part) to Purefoy's casting as Goode's vampiric father on A Discovery of Witches.

The series, which returns to Sundance Now, Shudder, and AMC+ on Jan. 9 for a second season, follows vampire Matthew (Matthew Goode) and witch Diana (Teresa Palmer) as they embark on a forbidden romance and become embroiled in a mystery about the origin of magical creatures. Season 2 finds them traveling to 16th-century England in pursuit of the enigmatic Book of Life, as well as searching for a witch to help Diana master her powers.

Their journey brings them into the path of Philippe de Clermont (Purefoy), Matthew's intimidating vampire father. Those that are fans of Purefoy or Goode might know they've previously worked together on both History miniseries Roots and travel series The Wine Show. But for Purefoy, it's always been a case of one Goode gig leading to another.

"Matthew's done my career no end of good, actually," Purefoy tells EW. "We worked together first on Roots where we played brothers. We spent a lot of time walking around, going from bar to bar in New Orleans because we had a certain amount of time off on that show. He was looking at rushes for a show he had just done, which he was producing, which was The Wine Show that he'd done with our mutual friend Matthew Rhys."

Purefoy admits he was envious of the great gig Rhys and Goode shared. But a year later, when Rhys was unavailable for a second season due to his shooting schedule on The Post, Goode called Purefoy to ask him to step in. That, in turn, led to their new relationship as father and son on A Discovery of Witches.

"We [were] on location on our second season in Portugal, and Matthew got a text message from [A Discovery of Witches executive producer] Jane Tranter with three possibilities of actors they were considering to play Philippe," he recalls. "I was literally standing next to him at the bar, and he barked out loud with a laugh. He goes, 'Take a look at this.' Here was my name and two of my bete noirs, my contemporaries who I'm often up against for parts."

From there, the two friends conspired to get Purefoy the gig. "We had one or two negronis, [and] we concocted a text back that said, 'Their career was finished and had been; they'd been around the block too many times. But James Purefoy, what a wonderful choice that would be,'" he laughs. "It was a set-up really. I'm hoping they're happy with what I did. But we concocted that at a bar in Portugal one night."

Purefoy admits playing Goode's father was terrible for his vanity, but ultimately, their characters are both centuries old, so that softened the blow. Mostly, performing with Goode made him up his game. "Matthew is a mercurial and dangerous presence in a scene," he reflects. "He's really interesting, and he'll go places that you don't expect him to go. It's like playing tennis with somebody. If you play tennis with somebody worse than you, you just get worse. If you play tennis with somebody who is good as you or preferably better than you, then you get better and Matthew is one of them. He makes you better."

Still, it was also an unexpected challenge, given their camaraderie. "There were moments where he was just literally laughing in my face on the other side of the camera," Purefoy adds. "Because something I said or something I'd done made him laugh. He's a terrible giggler. Terrible. Up there with the greatest gigglers of all...The biggest challenge [of the season] was trying to get through a scene with Matthew Goode without laughing."

Philippe is a beloved character in the A Discovery of Witches canon, and Purefoy didn't take that lightly. He read all of the novels and watched season 1 before even signing on to the project, to ensure he felt he could do Philippe justice. But in the end, his greatest inspiration came from novelist (and executive producer) Deborah Harkness' words.

"All you have to do is read her description of him and just go off that," he says. "Debs was around a lot, but she was very diplomatic on set and didn't want to intervene...But I didn't need anything else. It's all there in her books. It's all there in the text. I just wanted to honor what she'd written and try not to upset too many of the fans."

A big part of the key to Philippe was acknowledging and living in his power as a vampire. "The knowledge of a super power that somebody has, even if you don't even see it — we don't really display it in what we seem of him in any way at all — [but] the knowledge that you have a superpower makes you megalomaniacal, in the sense that you can do anything and you can know you can do anything," he reflects. "There is something rather awesome in the true sense of the word, a sense of awe about playing somebody who has that level of physical prowess and power. Even if you don't see it, knowing you embody that is a very powerful feeling."

Even with his fond reminisces of his time acting opposite Goode and his love for the role, Purefoy does have one regret from the season. "Sadly, I didn't get to sink my teeth into anybody's throat," he opines. "I did figure if I was playing a vampire, I might just get the odd chance to do that."

But sometimes even the greatest jobs have aspects that suck.

A Discovery of Witches season 2 premieres on Sundance Now, Shudder and AMC+ on Saturday.

#matthew goode #james purefoy #a discovery of witches #adow #adow spoilers

[glitterghost]

Okay friends, here we go. I recently stumbled upon author Claire Cray. Their slogan according to the official website is "Gay Romance On The Weird Side". And let me tell you, it's pretty fitting for their content.

I came across their most recent release, In Strange Woods (published August 28, 2020) on Kindle unlimited & decided to give it read. It's an m/m mystery/thriller and I found myself throughly enjoying the story and the characters. It's not really lengthy & it kept me engaged the entire time! Honesty, I fell in love with the two male leads. Both their personalities and their dynamic together. The romance spans only over a week or so, but the tenderness and organic growth between them is something I was & still am weak for.

(Ps. I absolutely adore one soft, flannel wearing, Nirvana listening, heart of gold boy, named Hunter!)

Another thing I loved about this book is that the romance didn't overshadow the plot, but accented it. It gets woven into the already ongoing story and I truly appreciated that. I don't want to say too much about the plot itself but I will pull the description and add it below!

In the stormy coastal woods of the Pacific Northwest, roots run deep and passions run wild.

Reeling with grief and hounded by the press after the mysterious massacre of his wealthy family, moody New York photographer James Worthington Crane decides to take his downward spiral somewhere far away: to the rural Oregon Coast, where he’s just inherited a random piece of property hidden somewhere in the woods upriver.

But when James pulls into the decaying seaside town of Brooks, everyone thinks he’s someone else—an elusive local rebel named Beau. Now James must fight through his own grief to unravel a tangled web of family secrets, mysterious doppelgängers, and forgotten history...with help from a soft-spoken local hunk named Hunter Quaid.

Hunter’s been on his own since he left his fundamentalist family at the age of fifteen. It’s taken years of hard work and healing to build the steady, stable life he has now, fixing up seaside houses while living alone in a trailer by the river. Then James blows in like a winter storm, disturbing the peace and stirring up a hunger like nothing he's ever felt.

As Hunter helps James search for the truth, their lives intertwine in unexpected ways—and they begin to discover what it means to find out where you really belong.

From the author of Merrick and Hidden Talents comes a sensual and emotional story inspired by the rugged beauty and offbeat history of Pacific Northwest timber country. In Strange Woods moves through ancient old-growth forests, abandoned logging roads, ramshackle seaside towns, decaying homesteads, coastal highways, and the stories hidden in the trees.

For me, this book hit a lot of things that I love seeing in stories and especially in m/m. Claire's pacing and writing style, for me, was pretty solid. So much so, that I delved into looking more into other works she's published previously, just to continue enjoying the writing. Though I still consider In Strange Woods my favorite of all I've read so far. I feel you can see the writing evolve more strongly than in some of their past titles. That and I just really am in love with James x Hunter! ♡

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Freebies

Many titles such as Thirsting For More & Backwoods Beast are free on Amazon. Both are paranormal shorts. Both published in 2012. The writing isn't as strong to me in these as it was in In Strange Woods but that's also an 8 year gap in writing. However, I like Claire's story ideas and to me it was still worth checking out!

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Classic Tales Gone Gay

I also just finished Spooky Smutty Stories, (also available on Kindle Unlimited) which highlights a handful of classic tells, well, gone gay, just as it says! This collection also features Backwoods Beast as the first entry but there is also a sequel of sorts in it, with the last story being Backwoods Boomerang.

Each story (seven in total), are uniquely written but also familiar to most of us. They hold just enough eerie, spooky and sometimes frightful content to maybe give you a goosebumps or two. Definitely a delightful read just in time for spooky season right around the corner!

Ever wished your favorite scary stories had more steamy gay scenes? Now they do. This collection of seven creepy, delicious m/m stories is filled with ghostly hitchhikers, haunted ships, seductive witches and more classic tropes from urban legends and oral traditions around the world. There's a tale here for everyone who likes it weird, so dive in and treat yourself to a good shiver.

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Historical

Oh, did I mention Claire's also done historical as well? I've yet to read Merrick & William but will definitely be making my way to them in the future.

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Spooky Season Newsletter Event 💀

I'll leave you all with one last bit of information. Since spooky season IS right around the corner, Claire is holding an event for newsletter subscribers and y'all should sign up for all the free spooky content to come! (I swear no puns but, well, yeah 🙃)

"Stories will be written in real time as Spooky Season goes on, and I’ll consider any prompts and ideas that come my way on Twitter!"

So be sure to sign up for the newsletter, as not to miss out on this event. You can do so by going here

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Links

For more information on Claire & Claire's books, as I'm sure I could go on but this is already a long post. You can find Claire at/on:

Claire's offical website

Twitter: @claire_cray (give a follow!)

Goodreads

Amazon

Tumblr- @clairecray-blog (but not sure if active)

#lgbtqia #lgbt authors #lgbt books #gay romance #spooky season #queer lit #please boost and spread this #shes funny and id love to see her gain some new fans #claire cray #reading #m/m romance #there is bound to be a typo in all this #but y'all i just am still obsessed i cant help it #but yes please boost this as it wont show up in tags bc LINKS

[keagan-ashleigh]

Hello tis me 👋😊

Ok so just like many people I have been following Loki's show and I have been sharing my thoughts on Twitter (look for @KeaganAsh if you want to meet me there) but, well, I thought, hey, that's been a while since I've posted something on Tumblr, and since the finale's tomorrow, well.

So. I haven't had many theories, some thoughts here and there but nothing big, but one. This is about Sylvie - it's not exactly my theory, I've seen some tweets about it and I tend to sort of agree with it: I am not 100% convinced Sylvie is actually a Loki. I think there is a possibility, a fair one, that Sylvie is the Enchantress. The actress has answered about it but in case the theory is true she can't just spoil it, and she's been vague enough so the theory still has a chance to be true.

First of all there's the name: Sylvie. Sylvie Lushton is one of the two characters that has taken the Enchantress alias, the other one being Amora.

The two are not the same character but they have things in comon and as Sophia Di Martino said they took inspiration from Lushton but are telling a different story from the comics. That doesn't rule out the theory at all since Sylvie and Amora can have been merged into this new character we've been presented.

I'm going to introduce those characters - even if in the end I end up being wrong, which is a possibility, they're still interesting.

Sylvie Lushton is a human, who obtained the powers of Enchantress from Loki who met her when she was a teenager, in Oklahoma where she was born. His reason being, basically, he wanted to play with the life of a human, and see what will happen. With her newly gained powers she tried her chance at joining the Avengers, taking The Enchantress name and lying about being an asgardian. But she was rejected.

She later joined Coat of Arm and the Young Masters, still trying to be a hero, then was accepted by the Young Avengers before being rejected because of her bad attitude. She joined other groups until she ultimately led a villainous group and was defeated by The Defenders then led by Valkyrie, Misty Knight, Hyppolita, etc.

Her powers: she has the ability to cast illusions, to control people's minds (!), teleportation, she can transform people into animals, cast some sort of energy field, transmorgrification (changing form, often in a grotesque way)

Amora is a born asgardian, her powers have been taught to her by the Norns, especially the Queen of the Norns, Karnilla. She's been continuing her studies by seducing or stealing knowledge from mages, wizards. She associated w Brunnhilde but soon betrayed her.

She's been for a long time associated with Skurge, who was deeply in love with her.

She's notably known as Thor's love interest - more precisely, Amora fell in love with Thor, tried to seduce him but when she couldn't, asked Skurge to kill Jane Foster. She was then defeated.

Later she has been associated with Loki, Zemo, Doctor Doom, etc.

She later was forced by the Beyonder to fight on Battleworld, at some point she fought against Miss Hulk and lost. She met Thor again by that time.

[note that those are mostly characters that have an importance in the incoming mcu phase]

The Enchantress was exhiled from Asgard by Odin who was unhappy with her villainous actions. But she fought against Surtur's army, and against her sister Lorelei when she refused to fight alongside asgardians. So she casted (?) a spell on her so she fell in love with Loki.

Her story doesn't stop here but it's a long story, see the rest on Marvel wiki.

Her powers: she has the asgardian strength of course, speed, ability to fight, endurance, etc. Plus obviously she is a witch so she casts spells, throw lightning bolts, teleport, cast illusions, transform her appearance, she manipulates men by seducing them, she can use force fields and blows up things with energy she emits, she can levitate, AND not the least: she can astral project to possess other people yes !

Both Enchantresses have obviously things in comon with the show's Sylvie - including their looks. Their powers seem similar to Loki's but there is things they can do that he can't, such as what is said in Lamentis: Loki can't enchant people, not the way she does it.

Loki manipulates minds in a different way as established in Avengers, he used the scepter that multiplied his power and emotions, to control minds and unleash Avengers deep anger to awake the Hulk. In a way, that power came from him, but it's not something he really does in the movies. Initially, he can astral project, use hypsnosis, telepathy, but he doesn't possess people. I guess Sylvie is teaching him to use this power he doesn't yet control. Still, it's quite possible that this is to make us doubt, or to focus our attention on the fact that Sylvie can help him unleash his powers, and not on the fact it's fairly possible that he just doesn't have Sylvie's abilities.

There is not many differences between a Loki and an Enchantress and that makes it really easy to deceive people into believing they are the same person.

What we've seen from the show and Sylvie's past, she was taken away from Asgard by the TVA as a kid and then hid from them and ran away... But there is actually nothing that really say unequivocally, the kid we saw was Sylvie. That is the story she is telling.

Plus there this tiny detail that the kid had dark hair, while Sylvie doesn't - yep I know hair dye is a thing but that blurs the line, that creates a visual difference between those two persons. What if it's implying they're not the same ?

And there is other details, like the HUGE amount of times they use the words "enchant", " enchanting", and such. I mean. Why insist on this word, when her power can be described differently, could have used telepathy, mind manipulation, etc, but they insist on using "enchantment".

And there is the fact her first impulse when called a Loki is to reject it, perhaps with a bit more anger than necessary. Why doesn't she wants to be associated with this name? Why insisting on the fact they're two different beings and not two versions of the same person. She's the only Loki to reject being a Loki, the only one who doesn't dramatize everything, and if they have comon traits, they are very different. Even Loki points it out, they're different. They imply that's because she was taken out of her timeline befire she could learn to be Loki, but again, it'd be a very good way to mislead us.

And of course there's the fact that they make them fall in love with each other - I doubt they really are to be honest, but they make it such a point that falling for himself is sick and absurd, then what if it means he's not? Yes it IS absurd. What if that's precisely the point?

I don't care if they end up together if she is not Loki but Enchantress, Loki is still canonically bisexual no matter who they set him up with, that is a win they can't take back. But yes, if she's actually Loki, then this pairing is weird. They are different people anyway, they don't share the same timeline, the same life, the same experience, still that is weird. And perhaps it's meant to feel weird and to be questioned.

In conclusion : I am not sure this theory is right. Not at all. But I feel like there is a piece of the puzzle missing, I feel like there is a lack of an actual twist. For now there has been 2 twists (tva agents are variants and the Time Keepers are fake), but we have been told that since the beginning, we started the show with this fact that it was all bullshit so there is no surprise, we have been led from the start to the understanding that the tva was coated in lies.

I expect something more unexpected. Something that not only will give a starting point to the multiverse just as it has been announced on the medias, but also something, pretty much like the Agatha reveal in WandaVision, that will make us go back to the beginning and reconsider everything we've seen. Why not that thing be that Sylvie is the Enchantress and has been either pulling the strings or been manipulated into tricking everyone.

Maybe not. Maybe I am wrong. We'll see tomorrow, maybe not this time but next season if there is one - everything is possible. If I am wrong, no worries, it happens, but if I am right I'll be happy but not surprised. 😁

#loki spoilers #loki #loki show #sylvie lushton #enchantress #sylvie is enchantress theory #marvel #mcu

[hljournal]

Today’s author is perfectdagger / @perfectdagger ! Don’t forget to give the fics kudos and leave a comment!

a thousand miles away (from the day that we started) (WIP)

Five years after his break up with Louis and ten since they've left school, Harry finds himself hosting a reunion at his family bungalow, having to face his ex again and the feelings he had left behind.

Or, a time capsule au

A Twist Of Fate (59k)

Or a Just My Luck Au in which Louis, who apparently is the luckiest man in the world according to his friends, might have his fate and luck twisted when he crosses path with a handsome and mysterious bloke dressed up as Zorro at Syco Entertainment Press Corp’s Halloween party.

Make Your Heart Remember Me (97k)

When Harry’s daughter auditions for The Voice Kids singing One Direction, Louis unexpectedly finds himself remembering a boy from his past. This time, he hopes to have another chance to make sure he won’t let him slip away.

Can I bother you for a sex? (16k)

Reason #40 – Called/texted the wrong person, but he was into it anyway  

When Harry mistexts Louis, Louis realises that he wouldn't mind Harry bothering him with anything, especially not with sex.

Love Is On The Radio (35k)

To win a pair of tickets to watch Manchester United playing, Louis may have possibly lied to Nick Grimshaw on the BBC Radio 1 Breakfast Show, asking Harry, his best friend, to be his boyfriend. Problem is - Harry has always been in love with Louis and so, this Valentine’s he’s gonna see his dreams come true, with a tiny bit of a twist, in order to watch the football team they have loved together since they were kids.

Bright Eyes (26k)

Amongst the many things Louis hated at the moment, there was one thing that somehow still brought a little bit of hope into his days. Even if it was to come back home just to see Harry’s face, Harry’s bright green eyes, that alone made everything better somehow.

That night, seeing Harry smiling at him, it made his life a hundred times better than it had been for all those months he had already been there.

“What the fuck are you doing, Tomlinson?” Louis spoke to himself, closing his eyes at the sensation of the cold breeze. “You can’t let yourself fall for him, you just can’t. You don’t even know him. You aren’t even friends with him, fuck,” he shook his head, now looking up at the sky, trying to make out the moon amid the heavy clouds. “You can’t, otherwise you’ll never leave this place.”

Love Like Wildfire (21k)

Louis was an Omega and a Prefect. Harry was an Alpha and a little rascal. They were mates, drawn to each other since they first met in the Hogwarts Express. They worked well like that, or at least they tried, which only made their relationship way more interesting.

Friday I’m In Love (30k)

Or the one where Harry works at the coffee shop and Louis goes there almost every day and Harry is head over heels for him, making his love life look like a The Cure song. Inspired by Friday I’m in Love by The Cure (obviously).

There Is A Light (17k)

Christmas/New Years AU in which Harry and Louis are single parents and they meet at an odd encounter at the toy shop and somehow, they end up together, bonded by their little ones.

Hopelessly Devoted To You (2k)

The one where Harry gets home to find a sleepy Louis watching Grease while waiting for him.

A Way of Keeping You Inside (Ink) (5k)

Or the one in which Louis thinks Harry's "Hi" tattoo is stupid and doesn't get its meaning. Only until he does and also gets his first tattoo.

Home (1k)

The one in which for some reason Larry didn’t come out at the end of the tour and even though they had changed management, for publicity purposes, they still have to wait a few months to come out. So this happens during their break while they are at home.

The One After The Anniversary Concert (1,5k)

Harry talks to a couple on stage about their wedding anniversary on September 28th.

Louis wishes he had talked about their own wedding anniversary instead.

Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic (92k)

Part 1 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the Hogwarts AU where Louis is a muggle, Lottie finds out she is a witch and Harry is Lottie’s wizard friend from Hogwarts, with a lot of magic, letters, owl cuddles and crushes on boys from different worlds.

Sick Of Losing Soulmates (I Like You) (7k)

Part 2 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the interlude in which 3 years apart seems to be nothing and too much at the same time.

If You Ever Wanna Be In Love (119k)

Part 3 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the one when a Holiday season together might be just what a wizard and a muggle with a too complicated past between them need to find each other again.

Tell The World We Finally Got It All Right (56k)

Part 4 of the Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series, or the year when Louis and Harry finally decided to give themselves a try, (re)falling in love and making memories for a life time.

If we could only fly there’d be no more lonely nights (100)

Autumn Drabble Prompt #67: Migrate

Sometimes, moving away is the best thing one can do. For Harry, though, it means longing for someone he promised his love to.

Part 1 of The leaves are ready to begin falling again, as I am for you drabbles series

The wind keeps blowing somewhere everyday (100)

Autumn Drabble Prompt #17: Brown

It also means missing the little things about your life, one that reminds you of what you left behind.

Part 2 of The leaves are ready to begin falling again, as I am for you drabbles series

I’m going home soon and I wanna stay (100)

Autumn Drabble Prompt #57: Homecoming

And if after a year nothing has changed, all Harry can do is go back home and have everything he needs in his arms again.

Part 3 of The leaves are ready to begin falling again, as I am for you drabbles series

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem (100)

Summer Drabble Prompt #13: Beach house

Reminiscing his childhood at the beach house, Harry recalls an old friend.

Part 1 of the Joy and fresh days of love accompany your hearts drabbles series

Now I am fled, my soul is in the sky (100)

Summer Drabble Prompt #112: Shooting star

And more than just friends through the years, Louis and Harry became a promise under the midsummer night sky.

Part 2 of the Joy and fresh days of love accompany your hearts drabbles series.

The course of true love never did run smooth (100)

Summer Drabble Prompt #58: Frisbee

Thinking about a promise long forgotten, Harry is suddenly hit by the past and maybe a new chance to make up for the lost time.

Part 3 of the Joy and fresh days of love accompany your hearts drabbles series.

Accidentally (100)

Spring Drabble Prompt: Flourish

Louis finds himself drawn to a flower shop without meaning to. Something seems to flourish there.

Part 1 of the Belting out sunlight, shimmering love drabbles series.

Running down into the spring (100)

Spring Drabble Prompt: Airy

As cliché as it might sound, Louis does feel something different and special spring up that airy morning.

Part 2 of the Belting out sunlight, shimmering love drabbles series.

There’s no escaping your love (100)

Spring Drabble Prompt: Spring Fling

And maybe there’s no harm in thinking that he’s ready for an unexpected spring fling with the cute flower guy.

Part 3 of the Belting out sunlight, shimmering love drabbles series.

Walking in the wind (100)

Winter Drabble Prompt: Wind

Walking around a small village on a cold windy day wasn't one of Louis' favorite things to do, even if it was for the sake and warmth of their winter Holiday.

Part 1 of the Hurt/Comfort: A winter's tail (the fall and rise of Louis Tomlinson) drabbles series.

You got me slippin’, stumblin’ (100)

Winter Drabble Prompt: Slippery

Even more if it included Louis falling on his arse, and getting Harry laughing and singing Clumsy by Fergie all the way back to their cabin at his expenses.

Part 2 of the Hurt/Comfort: A winter's tail (the fall and rise of Louis Tomlinson) drabbles series.

Come on baby, light my fire (100)

Winter Drabble Prompt: Firewood

But in the end, it didn’t matter if Louis had lost his beanie, fallen on the pavement or had been made fun of. He’s got all he needed: his fire and Harry to warm him up.

Part 3 of the Hurt/Comfort: A winter's tail (the fall and rise of Louis Tomlinson) drabbles series.

#faaw #fics

[starrlikesbooks]

Let’s talk about upcoming books!

It’s hard to believe the year is nearly over, but it’s equally hard to believe that it’s somehow still 2020  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Either way, the new year means at least one good thing- cool new books!

Click the read more for a little on each and why I’m excited! And have a great new year! 💓🎉

The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey is Gailey’s third full-length novel, and their second Adult novel. It’s an SFF story about a woman whose husband is cheating on her… with a clone of herself… which he made by stealing her research. The layers of betrayal! Obviously her and the clone have to kill him, what other choice do they have? I’m super excited for another one of Gailey’s fun, complex characters and the concept alone sounds so, so cool.

The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney I’ve already had the pleasure over reading and I am PUMPED to get other people to read it! This is a magical realism story about grief and baggage mixed with a southern (western?) gothic vibe with the town in the desert full of otherwordly “neighbors”. This is a beautiful story of PTSD and healing and as well as a lushly magic one.

The Mirror Season by Anna-Marie McLemore is another one I’ve already been lucky enough to get an advanced copy of. This is a magical realism story about the trauma of two characters’ unfortunately closely connected sexual assault. This one is heavy, and if you’re sensitive to stories involving rape and/or blackmail you may want to avoid it, but it’s well written and honestly an excellent story of healing and reflection.

Lycanthropy & Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O’Neal I…. have also already read! Sorry- I am just a very lucky reader of books! This is a really modern online friendship based story of a girl and her community of people with chronic illnesses, like the one that forced her to come back home from college. But it turns out her best friend’s chronic illness is a little… weird. I love the humor in this book, I love the characters, I love the representation of these illnesses and the online communities they form, and I honestly think that anyone who 1) like werewolves and 2) is still on tumblr will love this book.

Blade of Secrets by Tricia Levenseller combines three of my favorite things- bladesmiths, magical quests, and the author of The Shadows Between Us. A magical bladesmith takes a commission from someone far more dangerous than she knows, and winds up with an uber powerful sword able to steal secrets, on the run, and with some surprising friends. I can’t think of anything I don’t like from that, and I know I already love Levenseller’s characters, so!

Mister Impossible by Maggie Stiefvater has… that title, but is also the sequel to Call Down the Hawk, Stiefvater’s Ronan Lynch centric TRC spin off. CDTH was incredible and ended with a massive cliff hanger, so I’m chompin at the bit for this book. More magical dreams! More disembodied voices! More murder and art theft and Declan Lynch failing at pretending not to be weird af!

May the Best Man Win by ZR Ellor has the potential to make me cry right from the get go. This is a MLM trans lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers story and my God I’m vibrating. Basically it’s a battle for prom king between exes who had a messy break up because one of them ended their relationship in order to come out & transition. The cover is so cute and I’m ready for this to be fluffy and fun.

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston is McQuistion’s sophomore novel after Red, White & Royal Blue, so… obviously? This one is sapphic and involves falling for someone who is literally in the past. I trust McQuiston so much I’d need this book immediately even if the concept didn’t sound amazing, but I’m feeling blessed that it does!

Violet Ghosts by Leah Thomas is about being best friends with (and crushing on) a ghost while also coming out to yourself as trans. As an enby who likes ghost books- may I just say trans rights? This book also involved parental abuse, so beware if you find that distressing or triggering!

Blood Like Magic by Liselle Sambury not only has a stunning cover and a main character who looks like she means serious business, but it’s a dark urabn fantasy about witches. The main character fails her ritual to come into her magic, she’s forced to kill her true love or strip her whole blood line. Ah, I love difficult choices, gray morality, and magic, so I’m already in love with this.

The Box in the Woods by Maureen Johnson I’m astounded and super excited to know is going to exist at all. I loved the Truly, Devious trilogy, and while this isn’t exactly a part of that it is the same main character and it is still a mystery about an unsolved murder! Plus, I love summer camps, so a summer camp murder mystery makes me happy.

Gearbreakers by Zoe Hana Mikuta is a sappic enemies-to-lovers about two girls on opposite sides of a war fought by giant Windups. This is a cyberpunk book of spies and pilots and gay love, and it’s also the first in a series!

Any Way the Wind Blows by Rainbow Rowell is the third and (most likely) final book of the Simon Snow series and it’s gonna be GOOD. My only wish is for it to be about 500 pages longer because I want a full out door stopper of tying up loose ends.

The River Has Teeth by Erica Waters is the second book by the Ghost Wood Song author- which was on my most anticipated list for 2020 last year! That one was creepy and folky and queer, and this one looks to be the same. This one has a sister disappear and some strong magic to find out what happened to her, and if their mother was the one who did it.

Mark of the Wicked by Georgia Bowers is a dark fantasy about a girl who comes into her powers but has some different ideas about how she should be using them. I love morally gray or just plain dark main characters, so I’m ready to jump right on this one. This one also involves memory loss/blacking out and being framed, which always adds a cool mysterious layer!

Among Thieves by M.J. Kuhn involves queer, selfish thieves forced to band together. I have a soft spot for characters who are really flawed and don’t want to work together (especially if it leads into found family!) and this also has a slow burn sapphic relationship and a lot of possible betrayal in it, so I’ll probably go crazy from reading it.

Beyond the Ruby Veil #2 by Mara Fitzgerald doesn’t have a title yet but it does have a great plot to work off of. I loved the first book- which was creepy, had a completely awful, villainous main character, and full (I mean full) of murder- and it ended in a way that point to the sequel being just as good if not better. The first one had the quality of just watching the world burn, and I have a feeling this one’s going to be the same thing with maybe more flames. If you plan on picking up either of them, consider checking out the CWs, though!

Little Thieves by Margaret Owen got added to this immediately because Owen definitely gained my love and trust via The Merciful Crow duology, and I’m certain it’s going to be incredible solely because she’s a wonderful writer and her characters are a lot of fun- and speaking of characters, she’s already shared some drawings and info on them and they’re GREAT I cannot wait to meet them. This is a retelling of The Goose Girl story, from the maid’s POV!

Jade Fire Gold by June C.L. Tan was originally on my 2020 most anticipated but then 2020 happened so… yeah. But it is actually coming out in 2021, as long as the world doesn’t end again (fingers crossed). Inspired by East Asian mythology, this one is about a dangerous cult, a peasant cursed to steal souls, and an exiled prince!

The Heartbreak Bakery by A.R. Capetta is going to be one of those cute, fluffy, feel good reads, which I think we probably all need about now. I love Capetta’s work and their very queer characters, and I love the idea of a magical baker both breaking up and then getting couples back together. Also, the MC is agender- we love to see it.

The Second Coming by André-Naquian Wheeler follows a teen with a traumatic past falling for a boy who might be the second coming of Jesus Christ. Honestly, I’m a little nervous about this one- but also I almost wrote my own queer second coming story, so who am I to talk? I don’t know much more about this book, but I’m excited to see what it turns out like!

#new books #2021 books #2021 releases #the echo wife #sarah gailey #the valley and the flood #rebecca mahoney #the mirror season #anna marie mclemore #lycanthropy & other chronic illnesses #lycanthropy and other chronic illnesses #kristen o'neal #blade of secrets #tricia levenseller #may the best man win #zr ellor #mister imposible #cdth #maggie stiefvater #one last stop #casey mcquiston #violet ghosts #leah thomas #blood like magic #lielle sambury #the box in the woods #truly devious #maureen johnson #gearbreaks #zoe hana mikuta

[simplicityts]

100 Baby Challenge Guide | Part I: Overview & Matriarch

Objective

The objective of the 100 Baby Challenge is to give birth to 100 children in as few generations as possible, and successfully raise them to Young Adulthood.

Rules

No cheats or mods, except for ‘bb.moveobjects on’ and ‘reset sim’.

No help from nannies, baby daddies, or free services. Daycare is allowed only when leaving your lot to woo another donor.

You can’t use the same donor twice.

You can’t change pre-existing lot traits or lot traits that you choose, so choose wisely.

A child must reach Young Adulthood to count toward the 100 -- therefore they can’t die or be taken away by social services.

Your matriarch can’t get married until she becomes an elder, and must move out of the household after she is married.

You can’t have a career that takes you out of the household. Example: rabbit-hole jobs.

Only Young Adults can be moved out of the household.

You can’t influence your child’s gender or traits. You must use the randomizer for traits. You can't eat carrots or strawberries. You must avoid Pop and alternative music.

You can only age up:

-> Babies on their actual birthday;

-> Toddlers once they reach level 3 in all skills, or on their birthday, and;

-> When Children and Teens get an A in school.

TIP: Toddlers who reach level 3 or higher in their skills will have a head start in their skills when they age up to children, so don’t just let them languish until their birthdays. (I will go into more detail about this in Part 3: Babies and Toddlers.)

Step 1: Create your Matriarch

According to the official challenge rules by Snarky Witch, your Matriarch can be male (as long as he can become pregnant) or female, but I’m going to use female pronouns for simplicity sake. You can make her look and sound however you want, but she must be a Young Adult.

Choose her traits and aspirations wisely!

1. Aspirations

I highly recommend either the ‘Freelance Botanist’ or ‘Painter Exraordinaire’ aspiration to begin with. I’ve done both, but I personally prefer the former rather than the latter, because you only have to tend to your plants once a day and are therefore not tied to an easel. The problems I encountered with painting are that it takes awhile to finish one painting, and my matriarch would have to start and stop every time she went into labor or had to do anything else (like eat or take care of kids). You can still paint until your plants start generating simoleons (§), but the lot I chose comes with blooming herbs, so I don’t have to wait.

TIP: However, I also recommend switching back and forth between aspirations, because meeting aspiration milestones will give you satisfaction points which you can spend on helpful reward traits (see the Reward Traits section below). In addition to the ‘Freelance Botanist’ (if you choose to garden at all) and the ‘Painter Extraordinaire’ aspirations, you’ll want to complete the following ones as well:

-> Fabulously Wealthy:

You’ll earn 5% interest on your household funds every week. More § for doing nothing? Yes, please!

-> Nerd Brain:

Instantly fix or upgrade any object. Super useful when stuff breaks, and trust me, they will. Completing knowledge based aspirations such as this one will also give you the Quick Learner bonus trait, which will help you learn skills faster.

-> Big Happy Family:

You’ll boost your children’s skill gains whenever you’re nearby, which means they’ll age up faster, and the faster you can age them out, the faster you can make more kids and finish the challenge.

-> Mansion Baron:

Get 10% back on any build mode purchases added to your household funds once a week. You’re going to be buying stuff to furnish your house, so you might as well get some of your § back, no?

-> Serial Romantic:

You might find this handy for the Alluring bonus trait, because it makes you more successful at romantic interactions.

You can still do career based aspirations like Master Chef without actually joining the career. You just won’t be able to complete them once you get to the career based goals. For Master Chef, you can go up to Milestone III. That’s 1,425 satisfaction points right there! Just be sure to switch to this aspiration before you cook anything, and you’ll easily blow through these goals and milestones (same with the other ones).

TIP: I’ll leave you with this last note: don’t bother with children’s aspirations, EXCEPT for your successor! Completing children’s aspirations just wastes time getting them out of the house, but completing these for your successor is beneficial because it means they can buy bonus traits sooner.

2a. Traits

Check out Carl’s Guide to The Sims 4 Traits if you need help narrowing down your traits, but I highly recommend the following:

-> Creative: your sim will become inspired more often, in turn increasing the quality and value of their paintings (higher quality = more §). Choose this one only if you plan on painting being your primary source of income. Otherwise choose something like Cheerful, which will make your sim happier in general, or any of the other traits instead. For instance, I’ve chosen ‘Loves Outdoors’ for my gardeners.

-> Romantic: your sims will be flirty more often, and will gain romantic relationships faster than other sims. This will help you woo and bed donors faster.

-> Family-Oriented: your sim will gain happiness from being around family, which will honestly be most of the time.

2b. Reward Traits

Reward traits can be bought with satisfaction points from the Rewards store. To get to the Rewards Store, press G and then click on the present. 

IMPORTANT! Save your matriarch’s satisfaction points for traits; don’t waste them on potions. However, exchange your Young Adults’ satisfaction points for the ‘Moodlet Solver’ or the ‘Re-Traiting’ reward potion, and then transfer them to your matriarch’s inventory before you move the kid out of your household.

The Moodlet Solver potions will come in handy whenever your sims are mourning the death of someone they know, because it removes all negative moodlets. Don’t mistake this for the Happy potion, which is only a temporary fix.

The Re-Traiting potion, however, is best used on your next matriarch only. The rules of the challenge dictate that you have to randomize all of your children’s traits, so you will inevitably end up with a successor that has unfavorable traits. This potion will allow you to change their traits to more suitable ones. However, focus on stocking up on the Moodlet Solver potions first, and only purchase this one if and when you need it.

I’ve separated the Reward Traits I recommend into 3 categories: general, painters, and gardeners. They’re then ordered from most to least important in each of their categories. If you’re matriarch is a gardener or painter, I recommend buying Never Weary first, then skip to your specific categories, and finally work your way down the rest of the general list. However, anything after Great Kisser really isn’t necessary.

In general...

-> Never Weary (10,000): never have to sleep again! Trust me you’ll want to buy this first, because you’ll get more done if you’re not wasting 6+ hours sleeping.

-> Night Owl (1,000): gain skills 25% faster between 8PM and 3AM. You’re not sleeping any way, so this is great!

-> Frugal (2,000): reduces bills by 25%. Who doesn’t like saving money?

-> Beguiling (2,500): this is my favorite way to woo donors, because it makes it so easy.

-> Great Kisser (3,000): this one increases your Charisma skill every time you kiss, and charismatic sims are more successful at wooing donors.

-> Fertile (3,000): increases your chances of twins and triplets. I don’t recommend this early on. You definitely want to get comfortable with this challenge, and in a groove, before you start popping out multiples.

-> Forever Fresh (8,000): never need to shower or bathe again! Honestly, after the Toddler stage, showering is faster than bathing and isn’t really that much of an inconvenience.

-> Forever Full (10,000): never need to eat again. I like to make my Matriarch and Teens watch the cooking channel while they eat, because it raises their cooking skill, and satisfies their hunger and fun needs at the same time. Therefore this reward, like the previous one, is a very low priority.

For Painters...

-> Marketable (1,500): increases the value of paintings by 10% to triple the usual value. Choose this one, and the next one, if painting is your primary source of income. Otherwise, skip to Night Owl.

-> Creative Visionary (2,000): 20% higher chance of painting Masterpieces, which are worth A LOT of §.

For Gardeners...

-> Morning Sim (1,000): gain skills 25% faster between 5AM and 12PM. This one is great if gardening is your primary source of income, because your plants will need to be tended to and harvested at around 7AM.

For more information on reward traits, check out Carl’s guide here.

Step 2: Choose How to Make Money

I’m not going to spend much time on this, except to clarify which sources of income/careers are allowed. Only Careers that allow you to choose to ‘Work from Home’ are allowed as long as you always choose that option. I’ll try to list all of them, but I’ve only actually tried the Freelancer and Gardener careers with this challenge.

 Work from home careers are as follows:

-> Freelancer (Basegame): including Digital Artist, Programmer, Writer, Fashion Photographer (Moschino Stuff), and Crafter Branch (Eco Lifestyle). I don’t recommend this career, because I found it difficult to manage a work-life balance.

-> Critic (City Living): Art or Food Critic.

-> Style Influencer (Basegame): Trendsetter or Stylist.

-> Gardener (Seasons): I prefer Botanist over Floral Designer, because I have no interest in creating flower arrangements. This is also the career I choose, because my Matriarch’s are usually gardeners.

-> Civil Designer (Eco-Lifestyle): Civil Planner or Green Technician.

-> Military (Strangerville): Covert Operator or Officer.

-> Social Media (City Living): Public Relations or Internet Personality.

Keep in mind that you DON’T have to do any of these careers, but make sure they compliment your Matriarch’s traits if you do. I’d even recommend avoiding these altogether if you’re starting this challenge for the first time.

I choose to pursue the Gardener career, because I get bored with just gardening on its own. This also gives me an additional source of income on top of my side hustles (i.e. gardening, selling collectables, etc..)

Other sources of income include:

-> Painting

-> Gardening

-> Fishing

-> Digging for collectables

-> Selling honey (beekeeping in Seasons)

There’s probably more, but I only have experience with Basegame and Seasons, because, up until recently, those were the only ones I owned.

If you have Seasons installed...

I recommend you get at least one Money Tree, but you don’t have to spend 5,000 points in the rewards store to get a seed. You can easily get a fully grown tree from the Gallery if you have the § , and don’t consider this cheating. Perfect trees are available, but I prefer to download the '3 x Money Fruit Tree’ from SimBuilder20 instead. As I’ve said before, I prefer to make § gardening, so starting with a lower level tree helps me build up my matriarch’s gardening skill and complete the ‘Freelance Botanist’ aspiration quicker.

TIP: You don’t have to keep spending points or simoleons to get more money trees.

Here’s how to get 5 more Money Trees for FREE: go into build mode and put your money tree into your household inventory when it bears fruit. When you do this, the fruit (i.e. seeds) will be separated from the tree. You can then take them out of the inventory and plant them (and your first tree) somewhere on your lot.

Conclusion

Please do a Google search for more information on anything mentioned in this guide. Carl’s Sims 4 guides are a great resource, but so is Youtube, etc..

If you have any additional tips regarding the topics covered in this post, please include them as a note on this thread. Otherwise, stay tuned for Part II: Your Lot wherein we will discuss things like: choosing which lot to purchase, applying lot traits, and saving money in build/buy mode.

#thesims4 #the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 challenge #100 baby challenge #challenge #100 Baby Challenge Guide