#leaf introspection

[distortedwhite]

thinking about the inherrent lack of freedom in this fandom.

if you have a different interpretation from the majority, you are an odd specimen no one wants to interact with. even illiterate in severe cases.

if you criticize characters belonging to a minority, you are ableist, racist, and a transphobe.

if you squint at someone's choice to use she/her on literally Any character in the game, you are a transphobe.

if you use a specific emoji to refer to a black character, you are racist.

if you criticize a character, you are immediately assumed to be a hater of that character.

if you talk about a character non-stop, it's immediately assumed you don't care about the rest of the cast as much.

if you don't pick the she/her pronouns for the explicitely gnc character who has hobbies and preferences that are commonly liked by girls and completely disregarding any exceptions, you are a transphobe.

akira being actively prevented by both the fans and hapiele from writing the stories he wants to tell.

akira's core slowly fading away from enstars, replaced by the stereotypical idol slice of life shenanigans.

enstars is about the lack of freedom, in the entertainment business, their daily lives—all to keep face in front of their fans, to be what they want them to be, because that's what is expected of them. and that theme has now fully bled into the fandom. no one is safe anymore, absorbed in their own depiction of the franchise, without any regard towards their fellow fans.

[tinydappledleaf]

Character Exploration 🍎 Caleb (LaDS)

Caleb is late - and reflects on his situation.

-> an experimental piece to explore writing Caleb

Pairing: Caleb x MC, Caleb's perspective

Rating: T, comparable to game content

A personal vendetta against the fleet, a sabotaged navigational system, an overall messed up patrol flight through the darkness of Deepspace that should have ended more than a day prior.

It all leaves the colonel beyond tired when he finally sets his boot on the busy runway. A sharp gust of wind nearly whips his cap off, which is quickly adjusted in practiced ease. It’s a welcome sensation after days spent in the stagnant recycled air inside the ship. It takes his mind elsewhere for a split second before it returns to the situation at hand.

Hiccups like the recent one have gotten more frequent since the takeover of the Tuum Section.

None of it has been serious or professional enough to become truly worrisome. But the recurrence of similar incidents is wearing his patience thin, steadily gnawing away on his already strained nerves. Worst of all, it costs him precious time.

Time reserved for the one and only person preserving his ceaselessly assaulted sanity.

The colonel leaves Liam to deal with the aftermath, said man all too readily obliging the order despite having shared the taxing experience on ship. The Toring Chip, securely embedded behind the colonel’s right ear, effectively does its job, staving off the onslaught of guilt before it even gets the chance to manifest itself.

After all, there’s no one waiting for his obedient adjutant to come home that night.

Or at all.

'Who cares?' Whispers the chip in a quiet sequence of zeros and ones and preaches logic over emotion in an efficient release of calmative chemicals into the surrounding tissue. No friends, no compassion within the fleet’s hierarchy. Only subordinates and orders.

The chip does not affect, however, that tiny part of grey matter, closely guarded and hidden away behind a barrier of carefully crafted defense mechanisms, with but one desire:

Go home. See her. Finally.

The thought alone is enough to leave behind the 'colonel' for now.

Caleb strips himself of his restrictive uniform in a matter of seconds as soon as he’s boarded his personal aircraft, slipping a comfortable sweater over his remaining undershirt instead.

She loathes the mere sight of the intimidating uniform. He knows by the disdain evident in her gaze whenever it comes across her, whether he wears it or it’s just hanging on the coat rack by the front door. While she’s come to accept things the way they are now, at least he direly hopes she does, she does make no pretense of her despise for it. It leaves an acidic taste in his mouth, knowing that she knows. About the things he does. What he’s involved in. What doesn’t wash off when he showers, no matter how long he remains under the steady spray of water. No matter how hard he scrubs his skin sore.

Nonetheless, she comes to see him every other weekend. Voluntarily.

It soothes his conscience somewhat. That she still seeks him out on her own will. Despite everything, despite his own, now abandoned, aim to keep his distance to guard her safety, he can’t deny that he enjoys her presence. More than anything.

The more the irritation grows that some pesky nuisance dared keeping him away from her for longer than necessary. She had told him she’d arrive Saturday morning. The morning after his scheduled return. Now it’s well past midnight, a day later than planned, and he’s mourning the precious hours lost.

He checks his messages before he departs. A quick glance. To prepare himself.

There’re merely two notifications.

‘I’m at the station’, reads the first one, ‘Where are you?’

The second one, short and crisp: ‘I’m at your place now. Please be safe.’

He'd take any kind of annoyance or accusation over the quiet worry and resignation that echoes in her pick of words.

He can deal with her irritation; with the silent treatment she turns to in her anger that he's endured time and again throughout shared teenage years. What he cannot deal with is her disappointment. Her sad expression when he's yet again failed to keep a promise, no matter how tiny and unimportant it seems in the big picture.

A part of him hopes that she’s long gone to bed when he arrives. That her disappointment morphs into the preferred anger throughout her dreams. That she wakes up staring him down with annoyance in her pretty eyes as soon as she finds him in the kitchen prepping her favorites for breakfast. He can make it up to her then. Pamper her until she forgives him for standing her up.

That thought in mind, he takes to the sky.

The way home - now that he finally allows himself to call it that ever since she’s taken it upon herself to make it one - encompasses merely a few quiet minutes of rumbling thoughts and engine before his aircraft descends through the barriers surrounding his property. The landing is smooth, as it always is, despite the unease brewing steadily in Caleb's chest. The well-known tightness sits at war with a surge of pleasant anticipation to see her as he unlocks the door and steps across the threshold.

The house is as quiet as its owner as he disposes of his leather coat at the door. Quiet enough to make him wonder if she stayed at all.

A treacherous whisper in the back of his mind tells him she would be better off leaving and never coming back. Safe from the danger that lurks in the shadows around his presence. Safe from him and what he has become - Or has always been? He's not even certain of that himself anymore. Blame it on a lack of confidence or the murky spaces left behind by yet another set of (probably) unremarkable memories dissolved into nothing but muddled fog.

But he's too dreadfully egoistic for that. Too dependent on her sweet smiles and fond gazes as his fuel to power onwards.

Too addicted.

It’s despicable in many ways. But guilt and shame have long since faded into the background of his mind. If she comes to him willingly, he tells himself, he may as well allow her and keep her close to shield her from the creeping peril all around.

His silent steps on sock-clad feet carry him through the foyer while he tries not to expect anything, still.

The faint light from the kitchen isle illuminates the living room ahead. He spots half a meal abandoned at the table, cooking utensils already cleaned and neatly arranged to dry in his absence.

A hint that she’s stuck around. He barely shifts his gaze when he spots her barely a few feet away on the couch.

She's haphazardly bundled in a throw blanket, knees tucked to her tummy and hands comfortably curled beneath her chin.

It occurs to him that she must have tried to keep her eyes open until his arrival, regardless of the exhausting mission she had just accomplished herself before setting out to visit Skyhaven. The realization tugs at his heart in an unpleasant way, stirring the captious chip awake again unbidden. He ignores it in defiance and grinds his teeth through the threatening buzz that rattles his mind. Persistent little thing.

Once it quiets down, he redirects his focus to the sleeping girl.

She appears much smaller, curled up like this, much more vulnerable than she truly is these days.

She no longer is the little girl clinging to his sleeve at the faint and distant rumble of thunder. He's well aware that she's grown into a formidable fighter herself. Brave and strong, laughing into the face of danger willingly as she snoops around places that she should definitely not.

His little pip has grown resilient through all the years spent together, blossomed into something bolder and more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

But that doesn't quell his ever-present desire to protect her. To hide her away from anyone or anything that might dare cause her harm. He's promised her that. So many times, in silence or aloud, whenever her bright mind had been wiped clear, he's lost count. It’s the one vow he will never break, for as long as his stubborn heart keeps beating alongside hers.

He'll keep her safe and sound.

Gentle as he possibly can, he leans down to scoop her into his arms, carry her to bed, lest she wake with a crick in her neck come morning.

Only then does he take notice of the familiar piece of fabric spilling through the gaps between her fingers. Her nose is buried into it, muffling each deep and steady breath she takes.

It’s a worn shirt he'd left on the side of his bed in a hurry. None of the ones he'd brought from Linkon as he left for the DAA. He'd found her snatching those often enough, fresh from the clothesline, claiming them for herself to lounge in. He's used to that, as much as he can be, seeing her in his clothes.

But this one.

This one is recently bought. A necessity now that he gets (and wants) to spend more time out of uniform.

He’d understand she’d grab one of those old, well-acquainted shirts to wallow in memories… but this?

You killed my Caleb.

The echo of her hissed words still stings. It accompanies him, ricochets off the inside of his skull relentlessly. He'd begrudgingly made peace with the fact that she very much rejects who he is now. That she desperately hopes to somehow rediscover the boy that she's known her whole life. But this.

This tiny, unimposing gesture.

He freezes before his fingers touch her sleeping form, emotion welling up, swirling into a dangerous maelstrom of hope and sorrow alike.

A murmur of her name slips past his lips, and she stirs to the familiar sound, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as her sleepy eyes blink open.

Her drowsy gaze finds his in the twilit room and her smile stretches.

"Lebby," she mutters, evidently still half-asleep.

He hasn't heard that one in a while - the age-old nickname kickstarts his brain back into functioning.

"'m here," he affirms, hushed as his unsteady voice allows him to speak, as not to fully rouse her from sleep.

She hums, sounding utterly content, and winds her arms around his neck as he proceeds to pick her up.

Nuzzling her face into his shoulder, she breathes him in, and his mind teeters dangerously on the edge of the cold abyss again.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Resist.

Relax.

This is what it’s all for. He refuses to give in to the persistent chip, denies it access to this one beautiful gain of his whole twisted situation.

Damn the chip. Damn Ever. Damn fucking everyone that dares messing up what he feels for her. He sears the moment into his memory, sealing it securely behind unbreakable barriers.

Her warmth, her scent, her weight in his embrace. This belongs to him and her alone.

"I'll always come back to you," he murmurs and presses a tender kiss to the side of her head. "For as long as I breathe."

The emotional strain only adds to his present exhaustion, the hammering pain within his head as agonizing as ever, and the brief walk to her room grows slow and sluggish. It so happens that, after he’s carefully lowered her onto the mattress, he doesn’t resist her pull when she refuses to let go of his neck.

“Clingy,” he mutters, but doesn’t mean it, as he gives in and lets her topple him over and straight beside her onto the welcoming bed beneath.

It’s far from comfortable; Limbs tangled, her elbow digging into his ribs, his cheek smushed into the cool case of her pillow. Still, he revels in the onslaught of sensation, savors the dull ache that spreads along his awkwardly arched spine. Silence reigns beyond the occasional creak of bones and bed until her voice breaks once more.

She adjusts herself, curls her arms around his bicep instead.

“You’re late, dummy…”

Her soft voice is muffled against his shoulder, barely clear enough for him to grasp.

“But I’m happy you’re home…”

Yeah, thinks Caleb, I am, and wraps his hand around her smaller one.

Enveloped in the shelter of her presence, lastly he yields the steady pull of sleep...

[significant-narratives]

sun in taurus, moon in aquarius. sometimes a familiar path holds the answers you desperately seek.

[lakemojave]

After much introspection and soul searching I've turned over a new leaf and have decided to continue making poison swamps 😌

[nexusofsorcery]

Discover The Magic of Tea Leaf Reading: A Guide To Tasseomancy

Unlocking the Mystical Art of Reading Tea Leaves for Divination and Insight Welcome to the enchanting world of tasseomancy, the ancient art of tea leaf reading. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the fascinating practice of interpreting symbols and patterns formed by tea leaves in a teacup. Whether you are a beginner or an experienced practitioner, this guide will provide you with the…

[wist-errol]

I've been drifting the last few years, being blown along like a leaf in the autumnal winds.

I've always wondered when i watch the fall leaves swirl through the air if they know they can never go back to their tree. Any tree. Their green is gone, and even their red, yellows, and oranges fade. The wind takes them wherever it wants, and then it just leaves them.

The trees will grow new leaves, never thinking about the ones they've shed. The wind certainly isn't concerned about where it abandons then. They're not even memories.

I always felt sorry for them when their colors faded and they're laying so still, all curled, dry, and crushed, only to be swept away by everyone else like an annoyance. Like they never did anything and never meant anything. As if the shade they offered and the color they brought to the world was nothing at all.

It's silly.

They're just leaves.

But I still wonder...

[mahalachives]

Part 7: The Shadowsinger and The Lost Princess

Note: This chapter runs approximately 6k words and primarily follows Azriel's perspective. His viewpoint tends to be more introspective and serious compared to our female protagonist's lighter, more humorous tone.

Azriel x f!reader

Genre: fated mates, rom-com, crack humor, eventual angst, eventual smut

Summary: Azriel never expected to finally meet his mate and to be… this.

A walking disaster with a talent for tripping over air, an uncanny ability to charm even the grumpiest Illyrian, and a knack for throwing herself headfirst into situations that require his immediate intervention.

She is warmth where he is shadow, laughter where he is silence. And worst of all? She makes him smile without trying.

Azriel, Are you Okay? - Masterlist

Azriel slipped through your apartment window with practiced silence, the pre-dawn chill clinging to his Illyrian leathers. Your sleeping form remained undisturbed, face finally peaceful after hours of fitful dreams.

She glows in moonlight, his shadows cooed, curling protectively around his scarred hands like living ink. Our heart. Our starlight.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, allowing himself this rare moment of unguarded observation. The memory of your nightmare lingered—how you'd jolted awake, eyes wild with fear as you'd gasped about assassin geese between broken sobs. He hadn't laughed when genuine terror had shaken your frame, when you'd looked at him with such vulnerable relief as he promised to stay.

One shadow, more daring than the rest, caressed your cheek with gossamer gentleness. You smiled in your sleep, turning toward the darkness as if welcoming an old friend. Your fingers reached out unconsciously, brushing through the living shadow as it preened at your touch.

The familiar scent of Velaris dawn drifted through the window—salt from the Sidra, fresh bread, and that indefinable magic that clung to the City of Starlight. Rhysand would be expecting his report. Still, Azriel hesitated, caught between duty and desire.

With silent steps, he moved to your kitchen—chaotic in a way that spoke of your personality; spice jars organized by color rather than name, half-finished sketches of constellations pinned to the walls, a mug collection featuring the phases of the moon.

So different from his methodical quarters, yet somehow... home.

Azriel gathered ingredients with efficiency; loose-leaf tea from the Night Court highlands for your hangover, fresh bread from the baker who opened before dawn, honey from hives near the Rainbow. His scarred hands moved with surprising tenderness as he arranged everything, then wrote a note in his precise, elegant script.

Tell her our whispers miss her voice, a shadow pleaded, curling around his wrist like a lover's touch. Tell her we count heartbeats until we return.

"She doesn't need to know that," Azriel murmured, though his lips curved into what was almost a smile.

One final glance at your sleeping form—memorizing the way your fingers clutched the blanket he'd drawn over you hours before—then he slipped through the window.

His wings unfurled with a soft leathery snap as he launched toward the House of Wind, the first golden rays of dawn illuminating the tattoos etched across his powerful wings.

Azriel landed on the balcony with barely a whisper of sound, wings tucking tight against his back. The mountain residence was typically silent at this hour, most of its inhabitants still sleeping off the previous night's celebrations.

Today was different.

"Either very early or exceptionally late," Rhysand drawled from where he leaned against the stone balustrade, steam rising from the mug of tea cradled in his hands. Despite the casual stance, tension lined his shoulders.

"I wasn't aware I had a curfew," Azriel replied, his voice neutral even as his shadows swirled more rapidly around him.

He's been waiting hours, a shadow informed, brushing against Azriel's ear. His mind churns with fragments of memory. Something important. Something about her.

"How is she?" Rhys asked as they walked into the House, footsteps echoing against ancient stone.

"Sleeping," Azriel answered simply. "She had nightmares."

"So you stayed the night," Rhys said, those violet eyes—assessed him with uncomfortable thoroughness.

For centuries, they had trusted each other with their lives, had fought side by side, bled together. Yet in this moment, an unusual current ran between them, electric with unspoken implications.

Rhys led them to his private study, sealing the door with powerful wards that shimmered briefly—midnight blue threaded with silver—before fading into the ancient wood.

Old magic, his shadows hissed, recoiling slightly. Blood-deep protection. Secrets meant for family alone.

Rhys withdrew a small carved star from his pocket, its edges worn smooth by time and touch. "Do you remember when we found her in the archives? How she literally fell into our lives?"

The memory tugged Azriel's lips into the faintest smile.

"Something about her felt familiar," Rhys said softly, turning the star between his fingers. "Last night, as she stood beneath the stars, it finally clicked."

"Under the Mountain," Rhys continued, darkness flickering in his eyes at the mention of that cursed place, "my father had an affair with a noble from the Dawn Court. When she became pregnant, he banished them both—threatened worse if they ever returned."

"You believe she is that child," Azriel said, his face impassive despite the storm brewing inside him.

"I know she is," Rhys corrected, violet eyes burning with certainty. "Years after their banishment, they returned. I encountered her on a balcony. She couldn't have been more than five or six.”

Rhys's gaze turned distant, seeing beyond the walls of the present. "She looked up at me with those eyes—and called me 'brother.'”

Your mate carries royal blood, his shadows whispered with reverence, swirling faster. Night Court power runs in her veins.

"Her mother found us together and was enraged," Rhys continued, a muscle ticking in his jaw at the memory. "Afterward, I think my father altered my memories to forget her. And Az," his expression intensified, "I believe he tampered with her mind as well. For some purpose that remains unclear."

Rhys tapped his fingers against the carved star. "When I reached toward her mind last night, I felt scars. Old ones. The kind of psychic damage left by brutal memory suppression."

We will shield her from the pain of remembering, his shadows vowed fiercely, wrapping tighter around Azriel. We will cradle her heart through the storm of recovered memory, catch each tear before it falls.

"She doesn't know," Azriel said, not a question but a statement of understanding.

"No. That prick was thorough when he wanted something erased." Rhys's expression tightened with familiar pain. "Feyre believes she can help restore whatever memories can be salvaged, if she's willing to try."

"The mating bond," Azriel finally voiced what had been growing inside him since the day you'd tumbled into their lives.

Destined since before your birth, his oldest shadow declared with certainty. Written in the fabric of fate. The shadowsinger and the lost princess.

Rhys stood, moving to the window where dawn had fully broken over the jagged peaks surrounding the House of Wind. "She deserves to hear this from me. To understand her heritage, her birthright. And to know that someone—that bastard—tampered with her mind."

"When?" Azriel asked, the single word carrying the weight of decades of patience.

"I don’t know," Rhys said firmly. "I need to gather what evidence remains, to consult with Feyre and Amren. I want answers to offer alongside revelations."

Azriel nodded once, shadows swirling protectively around him as if preparing for battle.

We will be there, they promised in unison. To catch her if she falls into darkness, to light her way through forgotten memories.

"I won't speak of this," Azriel promised, the vow binding him as surely as any magic.

Relief softened Rhys's features. "Thank you, brother." He hesitated, then added, "And Az?"

A knowing smile tugged at Rhys's mouth. "This changes nothing between you and her. She's still your mate."

"Although," Rhys added with a flash of that wicked humor that had survived even Amarantha's tortures, "perhaps delay the mating ceremony until after the family reunion? I'd hate for my first official act as her brother to be standing at your altar."

He speaks true, his shadows agreed, almost laughing in their delight. But we have already claimed her soul as ours. As she has claimed yours.

Against his will, Azriel's lips curved upward. "I make no promises," he said dryly.

"Fair enough," Rhys conceded with a short laugh. "But if you're planning to court my sister properly—and I know you well enough to know you will—you might want to explain why your shadows seem so besotted with her. They're practically singing around you."

Tell him we adore her, his shadows insisted, dancing through the air between the brothers. That we would unravel the stars to keep her safe. That we recognized the night in her soul before either of you could see it.

"They recognize what she is to me," Azriel admitted quietly. "And perhaps what she is herself. Even before we knew her blood."

Our mate, his shadows chorused with absolute certainty. Our heart. Our home. Our eternal starlight.

Waking up with a hangover in the Night Court was a special kind of torture.

First, because the world’s most vibrant city looked even more obnoxiously cheerful when your head was pounding. Second, because memories of the previous night tended to return in excruciating, mortifying detail.

You groaned, burying your face deeper into your pillow as flashes of the River House party crashed through your mind like a stampede of particularly judgmental, overly-enthusiastic elephants.

The table.

The speech.

The falling.

The… Azriel catching you.

Mother above.

You had called Azriel’s face nice.

In front of the entire Inner Circle.

With dramatic hand gestures.

“Just kill me now,” you moaned into your pillow, wishing the mattress would do you a solid and swallow you whole.

Your head throbbed as you cautiously cracked open one eye, squinting against the morning light filtering through your curtains. The room swam into focus—your dresser, your bookshelf, your—

Wait.

You froze, blinking rapidly as your gaze landed on the chair beside your bed.

Empty now, but… pulled away from your desk. Positioned as if someone had been sitting there. Watching over you.

The memory crashed back with the gentleness of a brick to the face.

Azriel. Here. In your room. All night.

You sat up so quickly the room tilted, your hangover protesting the sudden movement with a fresh wave of nausea.

“Azriel?” Your voice came out as a raspy croak.

Silence answered.

You scanned the room, but there was no sign of the shadowsinger. No lingering whispers of darkness. No winged sentinel brooding dramatically in the corner.

Just your room. Your quiet, empty room.

“Oh thank the Cauldron,” you muttered, flopping back onto your mattress.

And yet…

A strange pang of disappointment flickered in your chest.

You shook it away, chalking it up to residual delirium. Obviously, you didn’t actually want to face Azriel after last night’s disaster. Obviously, it was a relief he’d left before you woke up. Obviously, you didn’t miss the quiet, reassuring presence that had chased away your nightmares.

A splash from across the room drew your attention.

Gregory circled his bowl with unusual vigor, his tiny fish body practically vibrating with what could only be described as judgment.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you told the fish. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.”

Gregory bubbled in response, looking smug.

You groaned and dragged yourself out of bed, shuffling toward the washroom. “I am not having a debate with a fish. Not today. Not with this hangover.”

But as you reached for the washroom door, something on your kitchen counter caught your eye. A steaming mug.

You froze.

Next to it was a small plate with what appeared to be freshly baked bread, a jar of honey, and—cauldron save you—a note.

Your heart stuttered In your chest as you approached, half-convinced you were still dreaming. The tea was perfectly brewed, still hot. The bread was warm to the touch. And the note…

You picked it up with trembling fingers, recognizing the elegant, practiced handwriting immediately.

Tea for the headache. Bread for the stomach. I'll check on you this evening. —A

P.S. No sign of assassin geese. Your apartment is secure.

Your brain short-circuited.

Azriel had made you tea.

Azriel had brought you bread.

Azriel had apparently prepared breakfast, and left it for your pounding headache and embarrassed soul.

And he’d referenced the assassin geese.

You stared at the note, reading it over and over, looking for some hidden meaning, some clue to the enigma that was Azriel’s feelings.

But there was nothing else. Practical. Thoughtful.

And absolutely maddening.

“Gods, he’s impossible,” you whispered, even as your traitorous heart warmed at the gesture.

Gregory swam another judgmental loop in his bowl.

“Oh, shut up,” you told him, but there was no heat in it.

You sank into a chair, cradling the mug between your palms, letting its warmth seep into your skin. The tea was perfect—a blend of mint and something else, something that seemed to lift the fog from your mind with each sip.

As you bit into the bread, drizzled with just the right amount of honey, you couldn’t help but wonder—how did he know this was exactly what you needed? How did he know the precise remedy for your aching head and bruised dignity?

You traced the edge of the note with your fingertip, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one falling.

You’d managed to pull yourself together enough to face the world—or at least, the small corner of it that was the Botanical Archives. Work seemed like the safest option, a place where you could hide among the dusty tomes and pretend that you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself in front of the entire Inner Circle.

The hangover tea had worked wonders, and by the time you arrived at the archives, your headache had receded to a dull throb rather than the pounding war drums of earlier.

You slipped through the heavy oak doors, breathing in the comforting scent of old books and pressed flowers. Safety. Normalcy. No brooding shadowsingers or concerned High Lords or cackling Cassians.

“THERE SHE IS!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Lira’s voice echoed through the archives, earning a sharp hiss from the head librarian.

So much for safety.

Lira bounded toward you like an overly enthusiastic puppy, her eyes gleaming with unholy delight.

“Lower your voice,” you hissed, frantically glancing around to make sure no one else was witnessing your arrival. “I’m trying to maintain a low profile.”

“After last night?” Lira snort-laughed. “Honey, you have no profile left. It’s gone. Obliterated. Crushed beneath the weight of your turkey-leg battle reenactment.”

You groaned, sinking into the nearest chair and burying your face in your hands. “How bad is it?”

“On a scale of one to catastrophic public humiliation?” Lira plopped down across from you, her grin far too wide. “Let’s just say the High Lord has already commissioned a bard to compose a ballad. He’s calling it ‘The Lady and the Drumstick: A Tragic Romance.’”

“You’re joking.” Horror crept through you.

“Only about the title,” Lira leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “But seriously, the entire Night Court is buzzing. You called the Spymaster ‘emotionally constipated’ to his face. In front of everyone. While wielding poultry.”

“End me,” you moaned. “Just… end me now.”

“No can do. I need to see how this plays out.” Lira tapped her fingers excitedly against the table. “Especially since I heard a certain shadowsinger carried you home like a maiden from the fairytales of old.”

You peered at her through your fingers. “Who told you that?”

“Mor sent a messenger at dawn, practically incoherent with excitement.” Lira leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “So tell me everything. Did he tuck you in? Did he kiss your forehead? Did he leave a rose on your pillow?”

You bit your lip, weighing whether to confess the truth. Lira would find out eventually—she always did—and maybe talking about it would help you make sense of the strange, fluttering feeling in your chest whenever you thought about Azriel’s note.

“He… stayed,” you admitted quietly.

Lira’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “HE WHAT—”

“SHHHH!” You glanced nervously at the librarian, who was now openly glaring in your direction. “Not like that. He slept in a chair. Because I had a nightmare. About geese."

Lira stared at you, processing this information with the careful consideration of someone trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “Azriel, the most feared warrior in the Night Court, the shadowsinger whose name makes grown males cry, slept in a chair next to your bed… because you had a bad dream about birds?”

When she put it like that, it sounded absolutely ridiculous.

“They were assassin geese,” you clarified weakly. “With tiny daggers. And little cloaks.”

Lira’s face went through a fascinating series of expressions before settling on pure, undiluted glee. “That… is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not cute!” you protested. “It’s weird and confusing and—”

“Romantic,” Lira finished for you. “Incredibly, painfully romantic.”

You flushed, remembering the tea, the bread, the note with its simple words that somehow felt more intimate than any grand declaration.

“He left me breakfast,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “With a note.”

Lira clutched her chest, dramatically miming a heart attack. “Stop. I can’t take it. The world’s most terrifying male making hangover tea and writing little notes? I’m deceased.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you insisted, though your heart fluttered traitorously in your chest. “It was practical. Logical. The kind of thing anyone would do for a… friend.”

“Right. Friend. Sure.” Lira’s smirk could have rivaled Rhysand’s. “I always sleep in uncomfortable chairs watching over my friends and then prepare them carefully curated hangover remedies. Totally normal friend behavior.”

Before you could retort, the archive doors swung open, and a hush fell over the room.

But it wasn’t Azriel.

It was Elain Archeron.

Delicate as a spring blossom, she stepped into the archives, golden-brown hair catching the light like spun honey, her simple rose-colored dress somehow more elegant than the most extravagant gown. She moved with gentle grace, occasionally stopping to examine a particular book or plant with those wide, knowing eyes that had seen the future and returned.

Several of the archivists immediately flocked to her, offering assistance, eager to help the High Lord’s sister-in-law. Elain greeted each one with a soft smile and quiet thanks, her voice musical even from a distance.

“Oh look,” Lira murmured. “It’s the flower maiden herself.”

You tried not to feel the sharp twist in your chest. Tried not to remember how Azriel had left with her the night before.

“She’s probably looking for gardening books,” you said, striving for nonchalance and failing miserably.

“Or looking for a certain shadowsinger’s secrets,” Lira waggled her eyebrows.

You shot her a withering glare, but the damage was done. The seed of doubt, already planted, began to sprout, twisting around your heart like one of Elain’s carefully tended vines.

You couldn’t help but watch as Elain moved through the archives, everything about her so effortlessly perfect. Her laugh, when one of the archivists said something amusing, was like silver bells—musical without being shrill, delicate without being weak.

She was everything you weren’t—poised, elegant, unfaltering. The kind of female who belonged in the Night Court, who could stand beside an Illyrian warrior without looking out of place. The kind of female who didn’t trip over her own feet or fall off bookshelves or have nightmares about murderous water birds.

Of course Azriel would prefer her. Who wouldn’t?

“Stop that,” Lira hissed, kicking you under the table with unexpected force.

“Stop what?” You winced, rubbing your shin.

“That thing where you compare yourself to her and decide you come up lacking,” Lira said flatly. “I can see it all over your face. You might as well be writing ‘I feel inferior’ across your forehead in glowing ink.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” Lira cut you off. “And it’s ridiculous. You’re magnificent. You’re also a disaster, but magnificently so.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “Thanks. I think.”

“Besides,” Lira continued, nodding toward Elain, “I’m pretty sure she’s completely unaware of the shadowsinger’s existence beyond ‘Feyre’s mate’s scary friend with the shadows.’”

“You weren’t there last night,” you murmured, remembering the way Elain had approached Azriel, the way he’d immediately followed her out without a backward glance. “They left together.”

Lira’s brows shot up. “Interesting. But not conclusive.”

Before you could respond, the archive doors swung open again—and this time, it was Azriel who entered.

Your heart leapt into your throat, a physical reaction you couldn't control. He filled the doorway, tall and imposing, his shadows writhing around him like sentient ink. They seemed agitated today, whispering urgently against his skin, occasionally stretching toward the room as if searching for something. For someone.

His wings were tucked tight against his back, but there was a tension in them, a readiness that caught your attention. You knew that posture—it meant he was unsettled, though few would notice the difference.

His siphons gleamed in the archive's light, the blue so dark it was nearly black, pulsing with power that made the air around him shimmer and the nearby candle flames waver.

And then his eyes found you.

For a heartbeat, everything else faded—the archives, the whispers, even Lira's knowing smirk. There was only Azriel, his hazel eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your lungs forget how to function. Something flickered across his face—relief?—before his mask of calm returned.

Then, his gaze shifted.

To Elain.

Something cold and hard settled in your stomach as you watched him approach her, shadows curling in anticipation before suddenly dissolving into nothing as he stepped into her presence. The transformation was jarring – the shadowsinger without his shadows, as if he became someone else entirely around her. She smiled up at him, that perfect, gentle smile, and gestured to a book she was holding.

The familiar ache of inadequacy clawed at your chest. Of course he would prefer her—graceful, gentle Elain with her floral scents and serene smile. Not you with your chaotic energy and penchant for disaster.

You couldn't hear what she was saying, but Azriel nodded, taking something small from her hands—something that glinted in the archives' soft light. He tucked it quickly into his pocket, a subtle, secretive movement that sent a shard of ice through your heart.

"I should go," you whispered, gathering your things with hands that suddenly felt clumsy and too large.

"Absolutely not," Lira grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "You're going to stay right here and finish telling me about assassin geese."

"I can't," you insisted, pulling free. "Not with them… here." Not with the evidence of what could never be yours displayed so plainly before you.

Understanding dawned in Lira's eyes. "Oh. Oh no. You really think—"

But you were already moving, head down, making for the side exit that few people knew about. You needed air. Needed space. Needed to not watch Azriel and Elain together, looking like they belonged in some ancient fae ballad about perfect, beautiful creatures finding one another.

You slipped through the door and into the narrow courtyard behind the archives, gulping in the fresh air like you'd been drowning. The scent of late summer flowers and sun-warmed stone enveloped you, but did nothing to ease the tightness in your chest. The sun was bright, nearly blinding after the dimness of the archives, and you squinted against it, trying to decide where to go.

"Running again, little bunny?"

You froze, heart stuttering in your chest. A shiver ran down your spine at that deep voice, at the faint hint of amusement—and something darker—that colored those words.

Slowly, you turned.

Azriel stood in the shadow of the doorway, his expression unreadable, his wings shifting slightly behind him. His shadows had returned, swirling around him with unusual agitation, some stretching toward you before retreating. How had he followed you so quickly? How had he known you were leaving?

His shadows, of course. They saw everything.

"I'm not running," you lied, taking a step back. "I just needed air."

"Through the side door that no one uses?" Azriel pushed away from the doorframe, moving toward you with the silent grace of a predator. The scent of night-chilled cedar and something darker, something uniquely him, reached you on the breeze. "Try again."

Anger flared, hot and sudden, in your chest. Anger was safer than hurt, safer than the vulnerability that threatened to crack you open. "Fine. I'm running. Happy? I'm avoiding you."

Azriel tilted his head, studying you with those ancient eyes. One shadow curled around his ear, whispering something that made his jaw tighten. "Why?"

"Because I embarrassed myself last night," you said quickly. Too quickly. "And I'd rather not relive it."

"Try again," Azriel repeated, stepping closer.

You backed away until you hit the courtyard wall, trapped between ancient stone and an advancing shadowsinger. The rough texture of the wall scraped against your palms. "The truth this time."

"That is the truth," you insisted, heart racing, the lie bitter on your tongue.

"No." Azriel stopped directly in front of you, close enough that you could feel the coolness of his shadows, smell the night-chilled cedar that clung to his skin. One shadow dared to brush against your cheek, a touch so light you might have imagined it, but you felt the coolness of its caress. "It's not."

His gaze was relentless, searching, seeing far too much. His shadows whispered secrets to him that you desperately wished they'd keep to themselves. You looked away, unable to meet those eyes that seemed to strip away every defense.

"Tell me," he said, his voice softer now. "Please."

It was the "please" that undid you.

Azriel, who commanded shadows and struck terror into the hearts of Prythian's most hardened warriors, saying "please" like he was asking for something precious. Like your truth mattered to him.

"I saw you," you whispered, still not looking at him, watching a persistent bellflower push through a crack in the courtyard stone. Its silvery petals seemed to glow even in daylight, resilient and out of place. Like you. "Last night. With Elain."

Azriel went very still. His shadows froze mid-swirl, as if time itself had stopped. "What?"

"At the party," you continued, the words tumbling out now that you'd started, unable to stop the flood.

Fear and hurt and longing twisted together in your chest, making it hard to breathe. "She came to you, whispered something, and you left with her. And then just now, in the archives…" You trailed off, feeling foolish and small and horribly vulnerable. "I know what a mating bond is supposed to be, Azriel. And I know when I'm not enough."

For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then—

"You're jealous," Azriel said, the realization evident in his voice. His shadows swirled faster now, agitated, almost... hopeful?

You winced at hearing it stated so plainly. "I know it's stupid. She's perfect and beautiful and graceful, and I'm... not. Of course you'd prefer her. Anyone would." The words burned your throat like acid, but they needed to be said. Better to face this now than to keep hoping for something that could never be.

"Look at me," Azriel commanded softly.

When you didn't move, his scarred hand gently cupped your chin, the rough texture of his centuries-old scars a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch. The scars felt like living history against your skin, telling stories of pain and endurance. He tilted your face up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

What you saw there made your breath catch—not amusement, not pity, but something warm and tender that made your heart skip. His shadows moved between you, wrapping around your wrists like gentle tethers, cool and soothing against your heated skin.

"You think I want Elain?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Don't you?" you whispered, hating how small you sounded. How uncertain. "Everyone does. She's spring incarnate."

"No." The word was firm, absolute. "I did once, a long time ago. A foolish, fleeting thing that faded long before I met you."

His shadows pulsed in agreement, pressing closer to you as if in reassurance. One brushed across your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Hope fluttered in your chest, fragile as a newly unfurled wing. "But last night—"

"She asked for my help," Azriel explained, his thumb brushing along your jawline in a touch so gentle it made your heart ache. His shadows emphasized his words, curling around your fingers like they were trying to hold your hand. "Lucien had sent her a letter. She wanted advice on how to respond."

"Oh," you breathed. But something still didn't feel right. "And today? In the archives?"

A flicker of something—was that nervousness?—crossed Azriel's face. His shadows swirled a bit faster, almost... anxiously. One wrapped around his wrist as if in encouragement, while another pressed against your heart, feeling your rapid pulse.

"She's been helping me with something," he said carefully.

Your heart sank. "I see."

"No," he said quickly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His shadows darkened, intensified, as if reflecting his frustration at not being understood. "Not what you're thinking. She's been helping me with... a gift."

You blinked. "A gift?"

"For you."

Those two words, spoken so simply, sent your heart racing. His shadows responded to the change in your pulse, swirling more rapidly around you both, creating a cocoon of twilight that muted the sunlight. "For... me?"

Azriel's wings shifted, a subtle tell of his unease. His shadows, which had stayed firmly present throughout your entire confrontation, some even wrapping protectively around your wrists, swirled more actively now.

"I'm not good at this," he admitted, the confession clearly costing him. For a male who lived by control and precision, admitting inadequacy didn't come easily. "At... feelings. At speaking what's in my heart." A rare vulnerability flickered across his face. "Five centuries of shadows and secrets don't prepare you for this."

"For what?" you asked, bewildered but hopeful, your heart hammering against your ribs.

With a reluctant sigh, Azriel reached into his pocket and pulled out what Elain had handed him. It was a small velvet pouch, midnight blue, tied with a silver cord. His scarred fingers handled it with surprising gentleness, as if it contained something infinitely precious.

"This wasn't how I planned to do this," he muttered, more to himself than to you. His shadows curled around the pouch, caressing it like old friends. "I had a whole... I was going to take you to the Sidra, at sunset, and..." He sighed again, looking almost pained. "Elain was helping me find the right flowers to go with it. Ones that wouldn't die immediately in my hands."

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the pouch. "Can I...?"

Azriel nodded, looking both nervous and resigned. His shadows retreated slightly, giving you space, though one remained curled around your wrist, as if unwilling to break contact.

You carefully untied the silver cord and tipped the contents into your palm. What fell out made your breath catch.

A delicate silver chain, and on it, a pendant—a small glass orb containing a perfectly preserved moonbloom flower, its petals an ethereal that seemed to glow from within, suspended in what looked like liquid crystal. In the sunlight, it cast tiny rainbows across your skin.

"It's... it's beautiful," you whispered, awed by the craftsmanship, by the meaning behind it. A memory made tangible.

"It's a moonbloom," Azriel said quietly. His shadows danced around the pendant, seeming almost... joyful. "From the cave where we were trapped together... I went back."

His shadows caressed the flower through the glass, and to your astonishment, the bloom seemed to pulse faintly in response.

"Elain helped me preserve it," he continued, his voice low and intimate. "She's my friend," Azriel continued, his eyes never leaving yours, shadows now wrapping gently around both your wrists, connecting you. "Nothing more. She never has been, and now, she never could be."

"Why not?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Azriel's expression softened, a small, rare smile curving his lips. His shadows suddenly stilled, as if holding their breath.

"Because from the moment you fell on me, no one else has existed for me," he said with quiet intensity. "No one else could."

Your heart thundered against your ribs. "Azriel—"

"You are my world," he murmured, his voice low and fervent. His shadows emphasized his words, wrapping more firmly around you, some brushing against your cheek like a caress. "My exasperating, impossible, magnificent world. Do you understand?"

His gaze burned into yours, centuries of loneliness and newfound hope in their depths.

"It's you," he said, each word deliberate, weighted with promise. "It has always been you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision. "But I'm not like her. I'm not elegant or poised or—"

"Thank the Cauldron for that," Azriel cut you off, his thumb catching a tear as it slipped down your cheek. A shadow followed the path of his thumb, cool against your heated skin. "You are alive in a way few people are. You trip and fall and get back up. You talk to fish and plants and don't care who sees. You're not afraid to be real."

He leaned closer, his forehead touching yours, his breath warm against your face. "Do you know how rare that is? How precious you are?

You could hardly breathe, hardly think with him so close, his words wrapping around you like a promise. "I thought... I thought you were disappointed. That the mate the Cauldron chose for you was so... ordinary."

Azriel's wings flared slightly, his shadows swirling with agitation. "There is nothing ordinary about you," he said fiercely. "And I have never, not for one moment, been disappointed. Terrified, yes. Overwhelmed, certainly. But disappointed? Never."

"Terrified?" you repeated, surprised. "You?"

"Of course." His voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. A shadow curled around his throat, as if protecting that vulnerability. "You could reject the bond. You could decide I'm not worth the trouble. You could walk away."

Your heart cracked at the raw honesty in his voice, the centuries of loneliness and doubt that had shaped him. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers ghosting along the sharp line of his jaw. His shadows embraced your hand, guiding it to his face.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, the truth of it settling in your bones like ancient mountain roots. "Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could. You're in my blood now, shadowsinger."

Something shifted in Azriel's eyes—a darkness giving way to light, a shadow lifting to reveal something bright and fierce beneath. The scent of night-chilled cedar and steel intensified around him, mixed with something uniquely him that called to your very soul.

His shadows rippled with what could only be described as joy, swirling faster, brighter somehow, though no less dark.

His hand moved from your chin to cradle the back of your neck, his scarred fingers threading through your hair, his touch both gentle and possessive. The rough texture of centuries-old burns against your sensitive skin sent shivers down your spine.

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice rough with need, the sound vibrating through the small space between you.

You knew what he meant. Knew what he needed to hear.

"You're my mate," you breathed, the words releasing something tight in your chest, like wings finally unfurling. "And I'm yours."

The moonbloom pendant between you flared suddenly, its blue-white light casting ethereal patterns across Azriel's face, illuminating the sharp planes and ancient sorrow etched there. His shadows danced in the light, not retreating from it but embracing it, merging with it to create something entirely new—neither darkness nor light but something born of both.

"Yes," he agreed, his voice rough with emotion that turned the single syllable into a vow. "Mine."

And then he was pulling you into his arms, not tentatively but with certainty, with a strength that spoke of centuries of waiting. The hard planes of his chest pressed against you, his heartbeat thundering against yours in perfect counterpoint.

His shadows enveloped you both, a cocoon of darkness and warmth that smelled of starlight and secrets, shielding you from the world as Azriel lowered his head. The courtyard around you faded away—the stone walls, the persistent flowers, the distant sounds of Velaris—until there was nothing but you and him and the living darkness that bound you.

He pressed his face into the curve where your neck met your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. The gentle scrape of his jaw sent sparks racing along your nerves.

Your heart thundered in your chest, blood rushing in your ears as you felt the gentle press of his lips against your shoulder—reverent, possessive, and achingly tender. Heat flooded your cheeks at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

His shadows caressed every inch of exposed skin, cool to his warmth, leaving trails of pleasant shivers in their wake. They dipped beneath your collar, traced the shell of your ear, brushed against your trembling fingers—claiming in their own way what their master now possessed.

They whispered against your ears, not with words but with feelings—joy, relief, possession, adoration, century upon century of loneliness suddenly filled with your light.

And somewhere above, unseen but ever-present, the Mother smiled.

Author's Note: Azriel made you tea. With honey. And referenced your assassin goose nightmare. I don’t know what else to tell you except: it’s over for him. Completely, utterly, hopelessly gone. Bless his broody little heart. 💀🖤

Thanks for reading, lovelies. Things are about to get even messier. Stay chaotic. Stay soft.

Tag List: @songbirdpond @tothestarsandwhateverend @lovely-susie @kksbookstuff @ladycaramelswirl @gamarancianne @writtenbypavani @bubybubsters @moonlitscrolls @valyas-corner @iris-lavender @lreadsstuff @nebarious @azrielssgirl @lamimamiii @fantasydreamwalker @dallynjennasgirl @tenshis-cake @lilah-asteria @sweetsugarcoffee @fall-winter-heart97 @lovely-susie @lreadsstuff @sofi03 @songbirdpond @nico707 @justtryingtosurvive02 @yourlocalcancer @saltedcoffeescotch @thatacotargirl @happypeanutstrawberry @theverseoftheblackpearl @tele86 @highladyofhogwarts @fuckingsimp4azriel @thegoddessofnothingness @lovelyflower7777 @stressed-reader @karespocketboyfriends @lreadsstuff @yourdarkroses-blog @plants-w0rld @oldernotwiser26 @ashduv @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @adventure-awaits13 @thegoddessofnothingness @fuckingsimp4azriel @highladyofhogwarts @stainedpomegranatelips @i-am-infinite @arcticfoxxes

[aventurineswife]

Reader cooing over how adorable Rice Dumpling is…not too far away from Dan Heng. 😆

A Moment of Peace

Summary: Onboard the Astral Express, you find yourself enchanted by an adorable and whimsical catcake—half cat, half cake, with a constellation-patterned tail and a playful expression. As you coo over its cuteness, you can't resist teasing Dan Heng, who sits nearby, about how cute the creature is. Amidst the lighthearted moment, a rare glimpse of Dan Heng’s softer side emerges, leading to a brief but meaningful exchange. Together, you share a quiet moment of peace, contrasting the weight of responsibilities with the fleeting joy of simplicity.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Fluff, Lighthearted, Humor, Soft Moments, Comfort, Character introspection.

The soft hum of the Astral Express reverberated in the quiet cabin as you sat at the table, a small bundle of joy before you that you could hardly take your eyes off. The whimsical creature, a charming hybrid of a cat and a cake, was nothing short of adorable. Its creamy white cake body was perfectly rounded, and the subtle squishiness of its form gave it an almost lifelike quality as it lay on its side, its black paws peeking from underneath.

You couldn’t help but giggle, the smile on your face as wide as the horizon outside the window. The catcake’s glossy black eyes stared up at you, sparkling with innocence and playfulness. Its tiny, cat-like mouth formed an expression that could melt even the coldest of hearts. A delicate red maple leaf rested on its side, a touch of seasonal beauty, while its tail sparkled with a constellation-like gold pattern that shimmered with each tiny movement.

"Oh my goodness, you're just too cute," you cooed, your voice filled with affection as you reached out to gently stroke the catcake’s soft surface. "Look at those eyes! And that tail! It's like a little piece of the stars. How did they even come up with something like you?"

Your eyes darted toward Dan Heng, who sat across from you, his usual stoic expression barely changing. He was reading something, but you could sense his attention lingering in your direction. You could never quite tell with Dan Heng, but you suspected he wasn’t completely disinterested in your reaction to the bizarre little creature.

You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a little.

"You think it’s cute, don’t you?" you asked, your voice light, accompanied by a playful grin. "It’s so adorably ridiculous. Almost as cute as the way you look when you get distracted."

Dan Heng’s expression remained unchanged, but you noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders, an almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"That's... not what I was thinking," he replied, his tone calm, but you could detect a hint of warmth hidden beneath his usually cool facade. He shifted his gaze back to his book, though you knew he was listening.

You snickered and gave the catcake another gentle stroke, unable to stop yourself from smiling even wider. "Well, whether you like it or not, I think it’s ridiculously adorable."

The catcake seemed to perk up, its little paws stretching as it let out an almost imperceptible mewl. It wobbled for a moment before resting back down, content with your attention.

"Do you ever wish you could just be this carefree?" you asked, your voice quieter, more contemplative. The catcake’s peaceful existence seemed like such a contrast to the weight you knew Dan Heng carried. "No worries, no responsibilities—just… fluffy tail and a comfy spot to lie down."

Dan Heng’s eyes softened slightly, though his expression remained neutral. "That’s… an unrealistic dream," he said quietly, though there was a subtle kindness in his voice that wasn’t often apparent. "But maybe, for a moment, it's nice to enjoy such a simple thing."

You tilted your head, surprised by the rare moment of openness from him. You often had glimpses of the man behind the stoic guard—someone who, like the rest of you, carried burdens, even if he tried to hide them behind walls of silence.

As if sensing the change in atmosphere, the catcake stretched again, offering a gentle distraction. You chuckled softly, shaking off the more serious thoughts. "Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to just enjoy this little moment of peace."

Dan Heng looked at the catcake one more time, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips before he returned to his book.

"Maybe you’re right," he said quietly, his gaze distant, as though contemplating the simplicity of the moment. "For once."

The air between you settled into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft whir of the train and the quiet purrs of the whimsical little catcake. And for that fleeting moment, the burdens of the past felt a little lighter, the weight of the journey just a bit less heavy, as the stars outside continued to shine.

[lua-stellar]

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[silverthehedgehogcharacteristics]

Silver the Hedgehog characteristics

Justice: Silver is driven by a Strong Sense of Justice. Silver is a righteous person that is outraged by injustices, devastation and suffering. This makes Silver very proactive as he actively investigates things he thinks are wrong(Spent his whole life in the Iblis future trying to find how the world was destroyed and how to fix it when no else did, actively investigated Eggman and Dodon Pa throughout Team Sonic Racing). Seeks to settle scores(Sonic Forces, IDW Sonic) and get back for those that have been wronged or make others pay for what they’ve done. This makes Silver very confrontational as he has zero tolerance for things like breaking promises and will take on anything to fight for what is right, however “His wish is to maintain peace, not to eradicate evil”(Sonic Channel).

Optimism: Silver is an optimist and embodies hope just as Sonic embodies freedom. He has a positive way of life that inspires people, always looks to a brighter outcome, does not give into despair no matter how dire the situation and believes “There’s always hope as long as you don’t give up”(JP Sonic Forces). Silver has faced constant hardship in his life without ever giving up hope. Inspires hope in others during dark times(06 Last Story, Sonic Forces) and spreads happiness during peaceful times(became a top class ice skater and a celebrity genius skating coach to entertain and help people in Otherworld Comedy). Silver has an enchanting smile(His smile fills Elise with trust and joy during their performance in Otherworld Comedy and someone he serves apple slices to can’t say no to his smile even though they're full already in Wallpaper Comedy 2022). 

Peace: Silver lives and fights for World Peace. Silver is devoted to peace because he hails from a hellish ruined future that was filled with darkness, devastation and suffering. Silver has great empathy for the state of the world in both people and environments so devastation saddens and upsets him while beauty and prosperity takes his breath away. Blue Skies and Smiles are especially important to him, blue skies make him feel at peace, and he can’t help but smile when seeing smiling faces. The quills on Silver’s head are patterned in the shape of a Japanese Red Maple Leaf which represents peace and prosperity.

Sentimentality and Serenity: Silver is also very Sentimental and can be introspective. He appreciates both the wonders of the world and little things that most people take for granted. Silver feels serene and at peace when seeing nature, beautiful scenery and people’s prosperity. Silver enjoys sightseeing and going on journeys(Sonic Colors DS, Olympic Games, Sonic Pict) because of this. This side of him ties into his peace themes due to his ability to appreciate beauty and serenity which the Momiji/Japanese Red Maple also represents.

Kindness: Silver is an Altruist that is always thinking of someone else’s happiness rather than his own(Sonic & Silver) and has a strong desire to help others. Silver wants to “protect smiles” and make people happy because he grew up in a world filled with despair(Sonic Channel). Silver is selfless to the point of being self-sacrificial without even thinking(Sonic Comic Pumpkin Trigger, was willing to to seal Iblis within himself with no hesitation) and instantly acts to shield others when Eggman attacks(Sonic Comic Final Stage). Silver engages in Cheerful Activities after the historical change in 06(Sonic & Silver) and does things like serving apple slices(Wallpaper Comedy 2022) and giving gifts as Santa(Sonic Pict) because making others happy is what makes him happy.

Honest-Forthright: Silver is Straightforward and Honest to a fault. He can’t tell a lie, wears his heart on his sleeve and has an “honest, unpretentious and kind demeanor”(Sonic Channel Staff Column). Silver is very humble as he does not think of himself as a hero(Sonic & Silver) and only cares for the job being done. Silver’s character is themed around purity(Sonic & Silver) and everything from his silvery white color to his honesty to his naivety ties into this. Silver is a reliable person(Sonic & Silver) that cherishes his friends, strongly believes in and is genuinely grateful to those who help him(Sonic Rivals 2, Sonic & Silver). Silver is an Enhancer(someone that is determined and simple, never lies, hides nothing, is straightforward in their actions and thinking, whose words and actions are often dominated by their feelings and is very focused on their goals)

Bluntness: Silver is so straightforward and honest that he’s blunt and rude, especially rude to those he deems against him, but also friends on occasion(rudely regards Sonic in JP TSR). Silver has a blunt and direct approach to most things(seen in how he tells townsfolk he’s from the future in 06 and expects Espio to believe him in Rivals 2). Silver has no filter and will call you an idiot to your face if he thinks you’re an idiot and is so direct that he can ignore manners and social customs(Sonic Rivals series) especially if he’s in a rush. Will be short with and rude to people, mock them, disregard them, and shoot down their statements without listening if he thinks they’re in his way. Notably even Sonic says that Silver has an attitude and Knuckles calls Silver rude in Sonic Rivals 1. Silver is overall informal and ill-mannered which is more apparent in Japanese where he has various informal mannerisms including using “Ore”(aggressive masculine “I”), “Anta”(Impolite “you” as opposed to the polite “Anata”) that signifies he speaks bluntly, pointing directly at people he speaks to(confrontational gesture) and crossing his legs while sitting(roughly the Japanese equivalent to putting your feet on a table) among others. Silver is blunt and unfiltered while Sonic and Shadow are coy.

Brash: In contrast to Future Trunks, Silver is brash, rash and impolite. Silver has a punkish personality with a cocky attitude that’s even more brash than Sonic’s. Silver is sassy, abrasive and sarcastic, being quick to insult or sneer at any opposition in both battle and competition(06, Rivals series, Riders Zero Gravity, Olympic Games series, Eggman’s theme park in Colors DS) and isn’t afraid to tell people to shut up(Sonic Rivals 2). Silver is headstrong and can be quick to start fights for both serious and petty reasons(almost fights Blaze when theTriumph cutscene of Sonic Colors DS and again when she treats him like an amateur in Otherworld Comedy, fights almost everyone in the Rivals series, Infinite in Forces, almost fights Jet and Bowser in Jr in Olympic Games). Silver has a mischievous side(Sonic Channel Commemorative Illustration Series). Despite this, Silver is still outgoing and approachable.

Straight-to-the-point mentality, hates distractions and petty details(Doesn’t care what the plan is called, only that it works in Forces, even during things like competitions he says the Jade Ghost Wisp is the only item he likes because it lets him disappear and focus on racing in the Team Vector interview). This can make him impatient towards things that get in his way, seem pointless or waste time(“Get out of my way”) but also ties into his optimism as he picks up by saying “there’s no point in worrying” in the Japanese version of Team Sonic Racing. Silver is goal focused, pragmatic and hyper focused on saving the future.

Naive: Silver has a black and white perspective and is innocent in his ideals. Expects people to believe him when he says he’s from the future or explains outlandish situations simply because he knows them to be true(Which causes people to not believe him). Sometimes takes things literally and doesn’t understand jokes but has an angry attitude when he doesn’t understand things(Says “Yes, why?” when Espio asks “you want me to believe that?” in Sonic Rivals 2 and “What’s so funny” when he didn’t understand people what people were laughing at in Otherworld Comedy). Silver is young and immature according to his creator Shun Nakamura.

Emotional: Silver is emotionally immature and uncontrolled. Silver tends to deal with things too head-on because of the strength of his feelings, or he tends to take everything on himself, which can make him reckless and impulsive(In the Japanese version of 06 Blaze describes him as running wild rather than insecure). Silver is generally High-Spirited, puts his all into what he gets invested in(I’m giving this everything I’ve got!), feels joy and rage loudly but sadness and contemplation quietly. Can get carried away or needs to be calmed down/held back when he gets riled up. Easily angered and has a wrathful short temper like Blaze. Gets indignant when people don’t listen to him(Sonic Channel) and punches things when he is frustrated(06, Mario & Sonic series). Silver’s animations and dialogue in the Olympic Games are full of emotional outbursts. Silver is hot-blooded and rash while Sonic and Shadow are calm and cool(Sonic Channel).

Determination: Silver has relentless determination that allowed him to fight through the devastated future. Doesn’t give up easily in any activity(got exact hedgehog apple slices after 40 tries). Never giving up even in the most dire of circumstances, endless determination for tasks both big and small. Not immune to moments of self-doubt when the circumstances have become truly dire or his worldview has been shaken, but he easily finds his determination again and keeps going until the bitter end without ever giving up. Has no regard for pain/high pain tolerance(Was constantly hurt in the Iblis future, kept fighting undeterred after being kicked in the head by Shadow, shredded across the street by Sonic in Generations and endures excruciating "pain beyond description” caused by his powers in Sonic & Silver) because of this.

Bravery: Silver is extremely brave and has no regard for his own safety(Sonic Comic Pumpkin Trigger) as he fought against disasters and large Iblis monsters in dark dangerous environments from a very young age and recklessly throws himself at every enemy and obstacle from Iblis to Infinite to a meteor with no hesitation, even if they are stronger than him. Silver is bold and undeterred by any threat(says “We can take them all on!” when facing Eggman, Knuckles and Rouge in Rivals 2 and “I’ll just destroy him everywhere at once” when facing Solaris). Silver values bravery/directness and dislikes cowardice(Sonic Rivals 1+2, Team Vector Nintendo Dream interview)

Intuitive: Silver is noted to be very Perceptive(Sonic Rivals 2) and good at combining small details to find the truth(most notably in the Rivals games, also a bit in TSR,  Sees through Eggman Nega’s disguises by noticing small details in his mannerisms). Doesn’t fall for the same trick twice(Eggman Nega in Rivals 2). Silver can be intuitive and crafty(intuits Blaze trying to control her great power when seeing it for the first time in Sonic Channel, changes his fight with Sonic into a race to collect Chao instead to advance his mission in Sonic Rivals 2). Every central game role from 06 to TSR is about Silver searching for truth and he has successfully figured out the schemes of Eggman and Eggman Nega before anyone else each time.

Fighter: Fought and struggled for half his lifetime(possibly since he was Cream’s age) through the disaster future(Sonic Channel). Silver fought his whole life through an extremely hostile environment filled with darkness against large Iblis enemies and constant disasters. He has feral high aggression because of this with fierce determined expressions and aggressive body language including constant fists even during competitions or just tasks he's focused on. Silver has angular pointed eyes like Sonic’s other rivals which represent intensity and danger in character design. Silver is extremely powerful being able to evenly physically fight Shadow in 06, and Sonic and Knuckles in the Rivals series to a standstill and repeatedly destroy both the colossal Iblis and small armies by himself in 06 and Sonic Pict. In Sonic Generations, Silver both Enjoys Fighting(Fights Sonic for fun after you beat him) and has an Instant fight response when surprised. Shadow describes Silver as a Fighter in Team Sonic Racing. Silver “sometimes calls forth great power without mercy”(Sonic Channel).

Rash: Described as Rash in character bios, the combination of Silver’s straight-to-the-point focus and strong emotions can lead him to be impulsive and rush through things such as when he tells Soleanna guards that he’s from the future in Sonic & Silver. This also makes Silver somewhat ruthless as he has no qualms with fighting dirty(played possum to hit Sonic in 06), mugging Tails for Rings in Sonic Rivals 2 or opening all of his battles with Sonic by attempting to snipe him with projectiles in 06 and Generations.

Challenger: Silver is a daring adventurer that partakes in sports and competitions like Sonic’s other rivals. Silver enjoys challenges and ways to test himself(Sonic Colors DS, climbed Tokyo Tower in the Mario & Sonic series). Silver engages in Cheerful Activities after the historical change in 06(Sonic & Silver) and loves seeing and experiencing cool new and interesting things(“Interesting”). Silver is confident in himself and very competitive(almost fights Blaze over who could deal with Orbot and Cubot on their own in Colors DS). Silver is a talented and skilled person that makes steady efforts to train/improve his skills(Wallpaper Comedy 2022) and takes offense to being treated like an amateur(Otherworld Comedy). Silver approaches everything with great attention and care and can even accomplish things he’s not experienced in. One of his catchphrases is “I’ll take you on”.

Antithesis of Eggman Nega: Silver’s overall traits are diametrically opposed to Eggman Nega’s. Silver is Pure, Blunt/Rude, Honest, Young, Empathetic, Impulsive/Reckless, Naive, Practical/Focused, Altruistic, desires Peace and Prosperity and is willing to die to protect the world while Eggman Nega is Twisted, Overly Polite, Deceitful, Old, Psychopathic, Calculating, Sophisticated, Petty, Egoistic, desires Chaos and Destruction is being willing to die to destroy the world.

Often shown/implied to like Apples(he ate apple flavored calorie bar rations in the 06 Iblis future according to Sonic Channel Sonic Pict) suggesting they are his favorite food. Apples also symbolize sweetness, beauty, and hope for prosperity in Japanese and Jewish culture.

Implied to live in Soleanna(He was originally going to be named Venice simply because he lived there, implied to live there in Sonic Channel stories). He might be Italian coded as his counterpart Galahad uses an Italian dagger as a sword.

After 06 Silver lives in the good future to a similar extent that Blaze lives in her dimension. Sometimes thinks things in Sonic’s time are dated (Sonic Rivals 1, Sonic Colors DS)

[leoascendente]

PAC/ Update on your love life 💕

Hi my loves and welcome to this new pick a a card! Here you have a new pac about love, I wanted to make it about something you all liked and it seems like these ones are your favorites so I made this as a summer solstice gift. I hope you like and resonate❣️

Take a deep breath before choosing the pile that calls you the most, keep ehat resonates and leave what doesn't

Happy summer solstice my dears, I love you all 🫶

My blog in Spanish here

Paid readings here

All pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners

Pile 1:

(Cards: world, 8 of gems, 5 of shells, 2 of shells, 2 of roses, hermit/ Tea leafs: dog barking, older woman, vine, purse flowers)

My dear pile 1, your love life looks a little confusing at the moment and I think this pile is only for single people. I see that there's someone you had intimacy with in the past but things ended up, is currently thinking about you, this person may ghosted you without you knowing why, if you resonate with this situation just know that they ghosted you because something complicated was going on in their life. The person in your mind thinks about you very often, I wouldn't be surprised if you've been dreaming about them or feeling their energy. Right now you look dissaponted because things seemed better than in the past, you put a lot of hope into this person just to feel like they failed you, in this case you are being called to meditate over your expectations and how you deal with your romantic relationships, it makes sense because of the picture you chose. You crave unconditional love, almost like as the picture says 'to merge souls', you are not meant for something sporadic or superficial, you need passion and intensity but my dear, you are forgetting about the hard parts of a relationship, you are thinking about falling in love and not about the steps that lead you to fall in love. The good thing is that you close a negative chapter of your love life in your recent past, that's why you felt that this time was different, because it really was but you thought you were repeating patterns again when you weren't, you can feel proud of yourself because of this shift in your life. I warn you that this person of your recent past is going to come back with renewed energies but in the meanwhile you need some time for introspection and healing, you just need to attend and fix some things within yourself because things with this person will lead to a safe place because your reading ended with the card of flowers that means happiness, so expect them to come back into your life at any moment. You also need this alone time because your femenine energy is needing some attention and you'll need you mind fully rested because you'll have to solve a financial issue before this person's come back. I see that you'll receive a very good advice from an older woman so listen what she has to say, you'll find out some information that will be usefull in the future and you're guides will tell you that you are in the right path whenever you see numbers 1222, 1212 or 222

Pile 2:

(Cards: 9 of shells, 9 of wings, 6 of shells, queen of roses, 10 of shells, 6 of wings/ Tea leafs: crib, haystack, beetle, cat, fox)

You have someone special in your life right now and things look really nice, maybe this is someone you are currently dating or simply you found out that the person you like likes you back, whatever it is, I see you very happy, even remembering an special event you shared with this person over and over. Ngl, both your person and you look very obssesed with eachother but this doesn't seem to be a problem to none of you, the thing here is that there's someone in your group of friends that is not happy of you finding love, be careful with how you behave with this two-faced friend because you'll reap what you sow, be wise because your approach on this situation could bring you karma, try not to argue. The best thing here is that your reading ended with the best cards possible, so doesn't matter what anybody tries to do to mess with your relationship because everything will be better than great at the end, but you may have to make a movement forward and maybe confess your true feelings, I see here a big romantic gesture and I feel it's you who's being encouraged to do it, you don't have to ask them for marriage but you could write a letter or ask them to go out or anything like that, depending on the situation of whoever is reading this. Whatever you decide to do it will have a very positive impact on your relationship and this will be a reason to take things to the next level, but my dear, don't share your plans with anybody until it's a reality in your life because that friend's energy could delay the positive ressults, good things will come to you anyway but there's no need of delays if you can prevent it by not sharing it. There's no much more to say besides that you'll have a very happy outcome with your person and you'll live a very healthy and fulfillling relationship. Felines will be a sign from spirit to act wisely and be cunning, something magical will happen after you get news about someone expecting a baby, beetles will be an omen of abundance and good fortune.

Pile 3:

(Cards: 2 of gems, 8 of roses, ace of wings rev, high priestess, lovers, 8 of gems rev/ Tea leafs: carriage, sunrise, V, dog, four leaf clover)

Okay, you may felt called to pile 1 too because your readings share a lot of similaities, read it if you feel like to. First of all, you are very aware of what's going on in your love life, you are my spiritual pile in this PAC but for some of you I also see a female that has psychic powers, maybe a witchy or intuitive friend that gives you spiritual guidance. I see that your love life has changed in your recent past and for the majority of you it's something that you've have been actively working on, it has been a conscious change you wanted to make, I'm getting that these changes were majorly focused on the kind of suitors you want to attract. Right now there's no much movement in your love life and you might be thinking that this stagnancy is a defeat, like all your efforts aren't paying off but that's very far from truth because you really have shifted your energy and what you are attracting not just in love, but also in general terms, just in case you needed this info to gain back hope (btw, I'm writting this at 12:12 on my clock). Deep inside of you , you can be intuiively knowing that someone is coming into your life but you don't know who, where or when, trust your gut instinct because that feeling is real, there's someone really close to enter your life but you need to stop looking for them in your daily life, you are being called to trust divine timing and investing in yourself meanwhile your person arrives. Before this meeting happens you'll go through a journey, it can be physical or mental but it's something you'll need to experience an enlightment where you'll be getting creative ideas, thise ideas will be very useful in your near future, especially in regards of a personal goal that you have and really want to achieve, just know that you got 2 of the best tea leafs, the V and the four leaf clover and both mean victory and good fortune so just relax and see how universe works at your favor. Your signs will be horses and dogs, especially black ones, faeries and the air elementals will be important for some reason I can't descipher, also a deceased loved one will make you they are right by showing you white butterflies.

Pile 4:

(Cards: 3 of shells, 9 of wings, 5 of shells rev, princess of wings, queen of roses, the hanged man rev/ vulture, tiger, pail, frying pan, shield)

My dear pile 4, I send you a virtual hug from here and wish you the best with whatever is going on in your life. Things may look crazy right now but keep always in mind that nothing last forever, neither the bad things so, by the moment just keep strong, at some moment things will get better. I see you are interested in someone but it's more like a crush because everything is in the air and there's nothing solid yet between you two, you may met this person through a friend or in a party and may got a little too obsessed with this person without them giving you a sign of reciprocal feelings, so be careful with delusion because you can be using it subconsciously to avoid the hardships of your current reality, I suggest you to check info about limerence, you may find some answers to help this tendency and heal. About this person you like, the cards invite you to be bold and make a movement forward, to take the lead of the situation, maybe text them or have a conversation the next time you see them, whatever you think it's more appropiate. The only warning here is that you may not be totally prepared to be in a relationship at the moment, or at least not fully receptive to everything that involves a commitment with someone else, before, you should maybe take some time for healing and balancing your life, you could enjoy fully this connection if the other areas of your life are more peaceful but that doesn't mean that you can't meet this person and know more about them, it would just involve taking things slower. I don't want to ruin your hopes and even less with this person because you could totally have a happy relationship together, what I mean is that maybe it's not the right moment to invest that much energy in a relationship when you are needing those energies so much, mostly for those of you who suffer from abandonment issues. Also, you'll be facing a challenging situation where you will have to defend yourself from someone's accusations, it will cause you some anxiety so I suggest you to go to nature to cleanse your energies when this happens, I'm getting that this is something you have could prevented if you listened to your intuition because you've been having a bad feeling with the person that is going to turn against you, just be brave and don't fear defending yourself with everything you have. By the moment take things with patience, try to approach the person you like but don't force anything or put your expectations too high, simply enjoy the good things and face the challenges one by one as they appear, you'll get out of this situation stronger and very proud of yourself, and maybe even with a boyfriend. For you, the only thing your guides are telling me is that they are there to help you whenever you need it, just communicate with them and they'll be quick to answer.

Pile 5:

(Cards: prince of roses, prince of gems, hanged man, moon rev, chariot, king of roses/ Tea leafs: door, yoke, man, whale, ring)

Omg pile 5, you have met your divine counterpart! I'm really happy for you my dear🥹🫶. This pile is for people who are already dealing with someone, so if it's not your case I suggest you to check the other piles. I see that you love eachother, there are a lot of feelings here but both of you have a very similar temper and your respective attitudes are getting in the way, you both are very stubborn and prideful but it's because of your experiences in love in your pasts, you both are scared of being hurt and this facade of pride is just a defense mechanism to protect your hearts, there's a lot of fear to be vulnerable here. You really like this person and just know that your feelings are reciprocal but the thing here is that you both have tough shells, I see you taking some distance or setting boundaries with this person because this situation is making you feel frustrated, so you may decide to simply move on hoping that they go after you. The good thing is that your person will find the will and courage to give an step forward and tell you to take things to the next level, they'll realize how much they crave you when you make them miss you a little, you got the ring on the tea leafs so for some of you there will be a proporsal too, for the rest I see a genuine love conffesion from your person. You'll find a beautiful door or entrance, when you see it shortly after you'll get food news about an oportunity or windfall, whales will be omens of staying grounded because there's nothing to worry about, you'll find a ring or someone ca gift you a piece of jewelry, wear it because it can work as a protective amulet, 7 will be your lucky number.

Pile 6:

(Cards: 8 of gems, magician, 9 of roses rev, 2 of shells, empress rev, king of gems/ Tea leafs: axe, flowers, casket, mountain, arrow)

Whatever you are living in your love life, it's time to release it and purify the energies, you've been working and investing a lot of energy into making something work with an soecific person but I'm sorry to tell you that is not going to end up as you'd like to. You'll be receiving news from someone you are interested in but you'll have to discern if this is the kind of relationship you want for yourself, this person of interest seems very hot and cold, with the empress reversed I feel like their attitude causes you to doubt yourself, even if they don't openly criticize you or anything like that, their behavior may be making you feel like you are not enough for them. You are being called to take a realistic look over the situation, if you feel like you are constantly fighting to keep this relationship going and you are the only one making the effort, the best thing you can do for your own wellbeing is to leave them and open up to someone else who is willing to make the same sacrifices for you that you would do for them. Even if it's a challenge for you, sometimes loving someone can't be the only reason to stay in a relationship and even less when the relationship is draining or painful. In the end I see you leaving and moving on because the casket on the tea leaf say that someone will be going out of your life, the good thing here is that the arrow is an omen of being on the right path, remember this whenever you see one. At the end of the day you'll be happy because you know your worth and how to invest on yourself, and everytime you let the old go you open up to new opportunities and people who resonates with your vibration, you will be opening the path for your soulmate too. You'll see the card of the magician somewhere and right after something special will manifest in your life, you'll find a beautiful jar and your guides encourage you to make a self love spell with it, wearing colors white and purple will help your intuition, bats will announce you a rebirth.

[distortedwhite]

so. lays down. i can kinda understand now why some people out there are uncomfortable with 1x3 ships.

some guys, if not most of them, who are vocally proship just... really like to infantilize the younger character(s)? and i'm just sitting here like CRYING........ if they like that that's fine but that kind of thing is Everywhere. canonically "vulnerable but doesn't like to let it show" older character x canonically "stubborn, a little innocent but is very passionate about their goals" younger character? WELL NOT ANYMORE because the younger character gets stripped of their personality to give the author an excuse to let the older character noncon the younger one. and Of Course because the younger character is, well Younger, they Obviously know nothing about intercourse and aren't capable At All to resist the older character because as the Younger one they are So weak compared to the older one oh noooo.

you know what that sounds like? traditional gender roles. younger/petite = feminine and older/tall/physically strong = masculine

am i onto something? probably not. but i had this thought One Time and now i can't stop seeing it Everywhere i go. i miss the days where people went like "fuck the system i wanna be free" and twist expectations around as they please. it feels like the community has hit a stalemate due to the radfems aggressively pushing their fearmongering rhetorics, as well as the anti/proship fractions actively boxing people into categories (antis = pure fluff, proship = problematic stuff) while alienating everyone else who doesn't fit in either category. "are you really one of us?" they ask as you express your preferences/discomfort about certain themes. all the critical thinking is just Gone, replaced by "[this thing] is bad and if you like it you are a bad person."

not even "morally bad," but bad. i fear what fandom "communities" will turn into in the near future

[greenwitchcrafts]

October 2023 witch guide

Full moon: October 28th

New moon: October 14th

Sabbats: Samhain

October Hunter's Moon

Known as: Blood moon, drying rice moon, falling leaf moon, freezing moon, migrating moon, moon of the changing seasons, shedding moon, ten colds moon, winterfelleth & windermanoth

Element: Air

Zodiac: Libra & Scorpio

Nature spirits: Frost faeries & Plant faeries

Deities: Apollo, Astarte, Belili, Cernunnos, Demeter, Hathor, Herne, Horned God, Ishtar, Kore, Lakshmi & Mercury

Animals: Elephant, jackal, ram, scorpion & stag

Birds: Crow, heron & robin

Trees: Acacia, apple, cypress & yew

Herbs/Plants: Angelica, apple blossom, burdock, catnip, pennyroyal, sweet Annie, thyme & Uva ursi

Flowers: Calendula, cosmos & marigold

Scents: Apple blossom, cherry & strawberry

Stones: Amethyst, beryl, obsidian, opal, tourmaline & turquoise

Colors: Black, dark blue, Dark greens & purples

Energy: Artistic works, balance, creativity, harmony, inner cleansing, justice, karma, legal matters, mental stimulation, partnerships, reincarnation & uncovering mysteries or secrets

It is believed that this name originates from the fact that it was a signal for hunters to prepare for the upcoming cold winter by going hunting. This is because animals were beginning to fatten up in preparation for the winter season. Moreover, since fields had recently been cleared out under the Harvest Moon, hunters could easily spot deer and other animals that had come out to search for remaining scraps. Additionally, foxes and wolves would also come out to prey on these animals.

The earliest use of the term “Hunter’s Moon,” cited in the Oxford English Dictionary, is from 1710. Some sources suggest that other names for the Hunter’s Moon are the Sanguine or Blood Moon, either associated with the blood from hunting or the color of the changing autumn leaves. 

Samhain

Also known as: All Hallow's Eve,  Ancestor Night, Feast of Apples, Feast of Sam-fuim, Feast of Souls, Feast of the Dead, Geimhreadh, Hallowmass, Martinmass, Old Hallowmas, Pagan New Year, Samana, Samhuinn, Samonios, Shadowfest & Third Harvest

Season: Fall

Symbols: Apples, bats, besom(brooms), black cats, cauldrons, ghosts, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, pumpkins, scarecrows & witches

Colors: Black, gold, orange, silver & white

Oils/incense: Basil, cloves, copal, frankincense, gum mastic, heather, heliotrope, mint, myrrh & nutmeg

Animals: Bat, boar, cat cattle & dogs

Stones: Amber, anatase, black calcite, black obsidian, black tourmaline, brass, carnelian, clear quartz diamond, garnet, gold, granite, hematite, iron, jet, marble, pearl, pyrite, ruby, sandstone, sardonyx, smokey quartz, steel & tektite

Foods: Apples, ale, beef, cider, corm, fruits, garlic, gourds, grains, hazelnuts, herbal teas, mushroom, nettle, nuts, pears, pomegranates, pork, poultry, pumpkin pie, sunflower seeds, thistle, turnips & wine (mulled)

Herbs/plants: Acorn, Allspice, catnip, corn, dittany of Crete, hazel, mandrake, mugwort, mullien, oak leaves, pine, rosemary, sage, straw, tarragon, thistle, wormwood & yellow cedar

Flowers: Calendula, chrysanthemum, deadly nightshade, rue & fumitory

Goddesses: Al-lat, Baba Yaga, Badb, Banba, Bast, Bebhionn, Bronach, Brunhilde, Cailleach, Carlin, Cassandra, Cerridwen, Copper Woman, Crobh Dearg, Devanyani, Dolya, Edda, Elli, Eris, Erishkigal, Fortuna, Frau Holde, Hecate, Hel, Ishtar, Kali, Macha Mania, Morrigan, Nemesis, Nephthys, Nicneven & Rhiannon

Gods: Arawan, Baron Samede, Belenus, Coyote, Cronus, Dagda, Dis, Hades, Loki, Nefertum, Odin, Osiris, Pluto, Woden & Xocatl

Issues Intentions & Powers: Crossroads, darkness, death, divination, honoring ancestors, introspection, the otherworld/underworld, release, visions & wisdom (of the crone)

Spellwork: Divination, fire magick, night magick, shape-shifting, spirit calling & water magick

Related festivals:

• Day of the Dead- (Spanish: Día de Muertos or Día de los Muertos) is a holiday traditionally celebrated on November 1st and 2nd, though other days, such as October 31 or November 6, may be included depending on the locality. It is widely observed in Mexico, where it largely developed & is also observed in other places, especially by people of Mexican heritage. Although related to the simultaneous Christian remembrances for Hallowtide, it has a much less solemn tone and is portrayed as a holiday of joyful celebration rather than mourning. The multi-day holiday involves family and friends gathering to pay respects and to remember friends and family members who have died. These celebrations can take a humorous tone, as celebrants remember funny events and anecdotes about the departed.

• All Saints Day- is a Christian solemnity celebrated in honor of all the saints & martyrs of the Church, whether they are known or unknown

Activities:

• Dedicate an altar to loved ones who have passed

• Boil a simmer pot to cleanse your space

• Have a silent dinner

• Light a candle for your loved ones & yourself

• Decorate your house and/or altar

• Release negative energy & cleanse your with a ritual bath

• Pull tarot cards to see what may be in store for you ahead

• Cleanse, clean & de-clutter your space

• Leave offerings to the Fae

• Journal & reflect on your accomplishments, challenges & everything you did this year

•Go on a nature walk

• Learn a new form of divination

• Have a bonfire with your friends and/or family

• Carve pumpkins

• Express yourself creatively through art, music, ect

• Visit a cemetery & help clean off areas that need it or to visit a family member/ ancestor & leave an offering

• Hold a seance

• Bake spooky treats & bread as offerings

• Refresh your protection magicks, sigils & rituals

Samhain is a Gaelic festival on 1 November marking the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter or "darker half" of the year. Celebrations begin on the evening of 31 October, since the Celtic day began and ended at sunset.

This fire festival is celebrated on October 31st & is considered the Pagan New Year. It is the first Sabbat on the Wheel of the Year, a cross-quarter festival & the third (final) harvest festival of the mundane year. This is the time when the veil between the worlds of the living & those who have passed is the thinnest, which allows greater communication between the two

Some believe this is the time of the Goddess's mourning of the death of the God until his rebirth at Yule. The Goddess's sadness can be seen in the shortening, darkening days & the arrival of cold weather

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

[coven-of-genesis]

Witch’s Weekly Moodboard: Spellcraft by the Days

Each day holds its own magic — a shift in energy, a whisper from the elements, a spell waiting to be cast. Align your craft with the rhythm of the week using these daily correspondences. Aesthetic. Crystal. Vibe. Spell. Repeat.

Whether you’re casting, resting, glamouring or grounding — there’s a day for that.

⸻

Monday — Moon Magic & Renewal

Aesthetic: rainy windows, soft white sheets, crescent moons

Color: silver

Vibe: emotional reset, reflection, intuition

Crystal: moonstone

Spell: write a small wish for the week and place it under your pillow. Let the moon tend to it while you sleep.

⸻

Tuesday — Firestarter Energy

Aesthetic: flickering candles, red nails, warrior braids

Color: crimson

Vibe: boldness, protection, action

Crystal: carnelian

Spell: whisper your fears into a candle flame. Light it and let it burn them away.

⸻

Wednesday — Spirit Messages & Clarity

Aesthetic: floating feathers, handwritten spells, shuffled tarot cards

Color: sky blue

Vibe: curiosity, communication, mental clarity

Crystal: lapis lazuli

Spell: ask for a sign, pull a card, journal with your guides. Spirit is listening today.

⸻

Thursday — Abundance & Expansion

Aesthetic: velvet, overflowing herbs, coins in a bowl

Color: forest green

Vibe: confidence, growth, blessings

Crystal: citrine

Spell: refresh your money bowl. Add herbs, coins, and whisper abundance into it.

⸻

Friday — Glamour & Love

Aesthetic: rose petals in bathwater, gold rings, glowing skin

Color: rose pink

Vibe: attraction, pleasure, magic in the mirror

Crystal: rose quartz

Spell: charm yourself before a mirror. Speak love into your reflection. Mean it.

⸻

Saturday — Shadow Work & Sacred Rest

Aesthetic: black lace, melted candles, forest silence

Color: black

Vibe: grounded, protective, introspective

Crystal: obsidian

Spell: write down what no longer serves you. Burn it with a bay leaf. Bury the ashes.

⸻

Sunday — Solar Clarity & Cleanse

Aesthetic: sunlit rooms, orange peels, wide open skies

Color: gold

Vibe: peace, joy, clear energy

Crystal: sunstone

Spell: make a citrus-infused cleansing spray. Mist your space and breathe deep.

Masterlist | linktree | Patreon

[noorvell]

Alignment

pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader

summary: Joel ponders in the night, and reflects about you.

a/n: this is a snippet of a longer work of mine you can find here. it does stands by itself. quite poetic and introspective. no dialogue.

The night had gone still in that particular way that only comes after a long heat, where the dust settles low and every leaf clings to its branch like breath held back, like even the trees are listening, as if the world were waiting not for the sound of something, but for its meaning, delicate stillness that came only after the world had quieted—the kind of hush that settled deep into the bones of things, when the dogs had curled in their beds, and the last windows blinked dark, and all that remained was the rustling of old wood, the breath of trees, the thin hum of distant water moving somewhere beneath the town. Joel sat on the porch with the guitar balanced across his thighs—not held like a weapon or a shield, not even a companion tonight, but a memory made solid, a thing with weight and shape that pressed into his legs and hummed faintly with the warmth of his palm where it rested near the bridge.

The guitar lay across his lap like a memory worn smooth from the holding, body of it scuffed, strings newer than they looked, the neck fitted into the crook of his arm as if it had never left him. The leather strap hung slack. He didn't wear it anymore—he just played like this, hunched and close, as though the sound belonged to him only in private. He ran a thumb across the E string and adjusted the tuning peg, not because it was far off, but because the ritual mattered more than the result. Then a chord—hesitant, incomplete, the kind that hung in the air like a question. The original wood had dulled over the years, or maybe it was just the moonlight playing tricks, but it still carried a shine in the neck where fingers had worn grooves into the lacquer, little valleys of time he could feel without thinking, a topography of repetition. His thumb rubbed along the back of it, slow, absent. The strings were newer—Ellie had insisted on that, more than once—but they still whined a little when his calluses missed the center. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t playing for precision. He was playing because the silence felt too close tonight, like a shirt damp from sweat clinging to the small of his back, and he’d needed to push something out through his fingers just to make space for breath. He didn’t try for a song at first, only shapes, half-recalled phrases, finger positions muscle remembered better than mind. The notes caught against each other like wind through broken glass—still music, just cracked around the edges.

The porch creaked under him when he shifted, one of those dry, familiar sounds that didn’t startle anymore, just folded into the night’s quiet language—wood talking to itself, to him, to the dark. He strummed low, letting the chords bleed out slow and imperfect, notes clinging together like moss on stone, earthy and uneven. The shape of the chords, the echo of the pattern, the unfinished edges of something too big to name aloud. A breeze passed, faint and dry, brushing the tips of the weeds along the edge of the porch, and with it came the faintest scent of pine and ash, of warm earth and cooled sweat, the way the world smelled when it had survived another day. He leaned back, let his head tip against the frame of the house, eyes lifting toward the bruised sky above where the stars had started to show through the gauze of dusk like pinpricks in old fabric—faint, uncertain, but present. Still there. He played something close to a tune, then let it fall apart in his hands, watching his fingers curl around the last note and go still.

His eyes drifted toward the dark, to where the long road curved slow and silent past the ration depot and around the softened slope of the hill where her building stood, windows gone black, lights snuffed out as if the place had exhaled and settled for the night. He couldn’t see your house from here—not truly, not plainly—but he knew where it was the way one knows a scar on their own body: by feel, by memory, by the subtle break in the treeline where the branches bowed a little lower, as if drawn toward something warm. There was no direct line of sight, only the faintest bleed of light in the farthest, loneliest street—the ghost of motion, maybe, or maybe just wind catching glass. A flicker not bright enough to name, but enough to make him pause. Maybe you’d gone to sleep. Maybe not. Hard to tell with you. You moved on a rhythm he hadn’t learned yet, not exactly, but had started listening for—like listening for rain in the hush of a cloud-heavy afternoon, or waiting for an animal to circle back through the underbrush where it once left prints. You were a quiet thing, not in volume but in tempo. And he, without meaning to, had begun to keep time.

He thought of the door. the one he made for you. His hand still remembering the feel of it, the tension it held like breath before speech. And behind it, you, already back at her desk probably, or not, maybe just sitting with her eyes closed, body curled inward, some part of her forever calculating even in rest. He did not know what you’d thought of Maria’s words, whether they’d lodged like glass between ribs or passed over you like wind. You hadn’t said much after. But you silence had not been indifference. He knew the difference now.

He looked up—past the treetops, past the weather vane half-twisting in the soft night breeze, past the chimney stacks and rooftops, to the sky above Jackson, which on a clear night like this one stretched wide and whole and full of things that did not ask to be understood. The stars blinked like they had for millennia—distant, cold, and constant. They did not answer questions. They only offered direction. Sarah had asked him once, small and curious, what stars were really for, and he’d fumbled some answer about maps and stories, about sailors and gods and the idea of north. It hadn’t mattered then.

The world hadn’t needed direction so much as safety. His fingers stilled on the strings, leaving the last chord to linger, soft and unresolved. And for once, he let it.

He hadn’t thought about alignment in years. But lately, like a plant too long in shadow, like a man beginning to remember how it felt to hope without flinching, something in him kept turning toward the light.

[swagging-back-to]

edit no actually i want to enjoy tea like a edo period japanese princess. i want a tea ceremony and to go 'ahhh that tastes so refreshing' even tho it tastes like ass

devastating (the answer to not having a janked ass intenstinal microbiome isnt drinking kombucha every day, it's not having a cup of sugar with my tea every day)