#the whimsy... the joy... the light in her eyes... bring her back

[starrstruckcanuck]

MY SHAYLAAAAAA come back to us 😭💔

[mikaikaika]

Something went wrong with them. Pangi, Ros, and Aimsey ventured into Null — and each returned bearing wounds only they can feel. Days felt like years, reality slipped through their fingers, and the Keepers wouldn’t let them leave. When they finally escaped, it was clear they hadn’t left unscathed — something in Null has changed them.

Ros… Ros came back with memory loss. Once the queen of joy and whimsy, she’s now quiet, sad, and distant. The light in her eyes has faded, her once-vibrant spirit dulled to a shadow of what it was. Barring Pangi and Aimsey, her memories of everyone else are muddled — even ones of herself almost like she lost a part of herself in that void. 

Aimsey’s corruption has only grown worse. The sculk they were already fighting has taken a deeper hold, and their worst fear has been confirmed: their own faction doesn’t even care enough to want to save them.

And Pangi — oh, poor Pangi. As if his week wasn’t already terrible enough, now there’s something else brewing inside him. Purple corruption, creeping through his body, perhaps slowly possessing him while he tries to act like everything’s fine. But it’s not. And soon, it won’t be.

And yet the Keepers claim that the null was free from corruption….so what happened to them? They escaped the physical space — but some doors, once opened, never truly close. And sometimes, the things you bring back are far worse than what you left behind.

[crescenthistory]

i don't know if this is allowed but... would you want to comment on the slytherin party headcanon but specifically pandora's part of it? like write it into a mini drabble? i so want to know how you write her 👉👈

this was not one i expected to receive, but i have been jumping up and down with joy over it<33 here you have carina's pandora

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will COMMENT on pandora flirting with you at a party

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: established but new relationship, peculiar pandora, reader wears a revealing dress, kissing, flirting, implied nsfw intentions

wc: 1.3k

You must admit you felt rather smug as the smoke rolled over your ankles when you entered the Slytherin dungeons.

It was the first party of the year and, despite having spent most of your summer with Pandora in some capacity or another, you felt as if you had not been seen as a couple together. This thing between you was established enough now that you felt secure to be yourself, but it was still fresh enough that you weren’t entirely certain how to present together as a couple.

This welcome back party felt like the perfect opportunity for you to test the waters – and if that involved pushing Pandora ever so slightly to see how she would react, then well, who could blame you? It had been a long summer after all.

Dolled up in a dress Dorcas had both helped you pick out and get into because it fit so snugly, with your hair done in a specific way that Pandora had complimented once, and laden with your favourite jewellery, you felt you looked the part as the partner of one of the elusive Rosier twins. More importantly, you felt confident you would have Pandora’s jaw dropping; it truly was only her reaction you were fishing for, no matter how much the eyes trailing your movements through the crowd empowered you.

It didn’t take you too long to spot her, her bedazzled white dreads easily shining like a beacon even through the quickly amassing crowd.

Pandora stood near the fireplace, chattering away in her hypnotically languid manner with Dorcas and Emmeline. Evan sat in a grandfather chair right next to them with Barty sprawled across his lap – the latter boy was in a hefty discussion with someone on the other side of the settee, craning his neck past Evan yet refusing to move out of his arms to argue more efficiently. Regulus sat beside them, entirely unfazed, save the occasional lifted brow, paying more attention to Pandora’s speech than the Evan-Barty hybrid to his right.

The scene was so typical that it brought a brighter smile to your lips, facade slipping away in favour of a brewing sense of endearment for these people you had come to call family. The smugness didn’t evade you for long, though, when Pandora’s head snapped up in your direction, as if she could feel you approaching. Her eyes drank you in slowly, taking her time trailing up your body from your ankles to your neckline and finally your smiling lips. Pandora tilted her head to the side slightly, narrowing her eyes for a split second, as if determining your intentions.

Being pinned beneath Pandora’s gaze never failed to bring heat curling up your spine. She was somehow both wildly unpredictable in her whimsy and a steady, stable force in her ideologies. It didn’t take long before her lips curled up in a warm smile – though, perhaps heated was a better word than warm in this context, because while there was kindness in it, there was also a certain electricity that made you shiver. Nevertheless, she stepped a few strides away from the fireplace with a skip, inviting you in with her arms extended.

Pandora was a vision herself – clad in a flowy white dress that sat beautifully on her darker skin, her long braids almost mixing in with the fabric. Her neckline dipped all the way to her navel with light lace keeping it tethered, and you had to fight to focus on the spark in her eyes. There was more than enough spark to find near her face, a crown of metallic leaves settled delicately on her head. A goddess among snakes. 

“Trinket!” She called softly out in greeting, taking one of your hands in hers and bringing the other to your cheek. You leaned in for a kiss and she just barely evaded you, pressing her lips slowly to the corner of your smile, a barely there touch. She pulled back, grinning at your dazed expression. A sly hand slid up your hip to settle on the side of your stomach, warm and kind. “I’m glad you were guided here at last, my love. You are such a sight in this light, green truly is your colour, I’ve always known. Come sit with us.”

Had you prepared something to say? Did you have a mission with this appearance? Any semblance of a coherent thought slipped away beneath her attention, a dazzled smile taking over as you whispered back, “Hi, Dora.”

Pandora held your hand in hers with a featherlight touch, brush lighting you up as she pulled you more magnetically than physically with her to the chair near the fire. Dorcas and Emmeline were still leaning against the brick, attention distracted between Barty’s argument growing in intensity and this equally tense but wholly different interaction between you and Pandora. You could swear you saw Dorcas snicker at you.

Pandora’s touch brushed up from your hand to linger on your wrist, as she moved it to see your bracelets better. “Stunning,” she whispered so softly you could barely hear it – just as she meant. While your attention was closely trained on her expression, she suddenly looked up at you through her long white lashes, eyes glittering. “These are so gorgeous. You’ve dressed up for me so beautifully, my trinket, thank you.”

You let out a soft breath, not nervous but decidedly not unaffected. Your instincts within flirtation would be to deny you did this for anyone but yourself – but you had come to find Pandora worked differently. Instead you breathed out an endeared, “Yeah?”

Pandora smiled, clearly pleased, as she looked back down to your wrist, tangling the bracelets together in an artistically skilled fashion. “Of course, angel.” As she focussed on your bracelets, her other hand abandoned yours in favour of trailing up your other arm until it found the warm side of your neck. As if her fingers knew what was there before her eyes did, a choreography of movements you could never predict but always indulged in.

Her face darted up to look up at your ears, caressing the shells of them with both hands as she hummed in approval at your earrings. “These are new,” Pandora stated, reverent, not questioning. “Did you craft them yourself?”

For once your flush was from light embarrassment instead of from her captivating presence. You were still gaining the courage to make and wear your own pieces, the way you’ve always admired her for doing. “You noticed?” you chose to ask, tone gentle.

Pandora’s eyes finally met yours, no longer taking pleasure in scrutinising the details of your outfit, instead shifting that rapt attention to just you. Her shoulders visibly relaxed a little when you held her gaze, as if she melted the same way you did. Her hands ceased the barely-there caresses and instead slid firmly to cup your cheeks, fingertips tangling in your hair behind your ears. 

“I notice everything about you,” she declared reverently. 

Remembering your mission while simultaneously not caring about anything but just this moment, you leaned into her touch and used the movement to lean towards her. Soft lips pressing together, corners quirking up in mutual admiration. The cool metal of her labret piercing ring against you never ceased to ground you during your kisses, however sweet or deep. 

A light giggle threatened to make its way out of your throat when you came apart, and you suspect Pandora could tell by the wholly satisfied look on her face. “And I, you, darling,” you whispered against her lips.

Pandora sighed in contentment. “Shall we socialise, my crystal?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Not for long if you keep calling me yours,” you half-murmured under your breath, grin already developing on your lips from your own joke. It was said in a joking matter, but you wholly stood by it.

Pandora grabbed your hands more firmly this time and looked around for who to socialise with as she nodded solemnly, determined. “Not for long, then.” Heat crept up the sides of your neck again. “Come along, my love.”

[darielivalyen]

"Well then, allow me to introduce myself properly." The cow steps back gracefully and curtsies, a playful twinkle in her eye. "I am known by many names, but you may call me the Holy Cow. Think of me as your fairy auntie, here to offer guidance and a sprinkle of whimsy."

Everbloom is a cozy fantasy game set on the idyllic Everbloom Isle, a place where the charm of a simpler life and the warmth of a close-knit community come together. In this tranquil world, you're invited to slow down, cherish the small moments, and find joy in building connections and creating a space where everyone feels at home.

Your journey centers on the dream of opening a teahouse, an aspiration deeply influenced by your longing for independence and a meaningful life. This dream becomes a reality with the inheritance of your grandmother's house on Everbloom Isle. Here, in a setting far removed from the bustle of city life and your family's expectations, you begin the delicate process of building a new life for yourself.

Are you ready to leave behind the monotony and dullness of daily life and build the teahouse of your dreams on Everbloom Isle?

Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

Choose your appearance and personality.

Romance or befriend one of three distinctive characters: a brave knight seeking a new purpose, a mischievous forest guardian who finds joy in life's lighter moments, or an enigmatic elf with a complex past, seeking solace and clarity on Everbloom Isle.

Create and customize your own teahouse.

Cultivate and enhance your grandmother's garden.

Explore Everbloom Isle in search of unique tea saplings.

Interact with a host of quirky characters, from the whimsical Holy Cow and her not-at-all terrible fish choir to giant turtles, winged wolves, and enigmatic fernlings.

Follow a dynamic quest from the Holy Cow that will challenge you to build friendships, honor your grandmother's legacy, and expand your collection of unique teas.

Sir Castian/Dame Castilla Honeycutt

Personality: brave, honorable, old-fashioned, bashful. Blurb: In a land where swords are replaced by teacups, Cast(), a knight accustomed to battles and quests, struggles to find his/her role. Everbloom Isle, with its whimsical ways, challenges him/her to redefine what it means to be a hero. Can you help him/her weave his/her knightly virtues into the fabric of your new home?

Narciso/Narissa Roseblade

Personality: mischievous, lighthearted, adventurous, non-committal. Blurb: Nar()'s presence on Everbloom Isle is like a breeze through the Elder Tree's leaves – light, unpredictable, and full of life. His/her playful antics and seemingly carefree nature captivate those around him/her. Yet, there's a depth in his/her eyes suggesting more than just whimsy. Will you be the one who figures out what really inspires his/her eternal dance through the grove?

Ideru/Ideri Nightingale

Personality: calculating, composed, solitary, adaptable. Blurb: Ider() arrives at Everbloom Isle cloaked in an aura of intrigue, his/her quiet nature standing in stark contrast to the isle’s vibrancy. Amidst the isle's welcoming community, his/her enigmatic presence stirs a sense of curiosity. Will you be the one who digs into his/her mysterious past and discovers what brings him/her to Everbloom?

PLAY EVERBLOOM | FORUM | TUMBLR

[i-willstealyourtoes]

tf2 matchup pleas pleas pleas??? (bats big eyelashes) ^^ I'm 20, a cis woman, i go by she/her pronouns, pisces, i'm on the chubbier side, I weigh around 80(?) kg. I'm unlabeled when it comes to my sexuality. I am from Australia, and I'm mixed with Italian/croatian, as well as North/South Indian. I do have the Australian accent though! But I live near the city. I have honey, warm toned skin, with dark dark brown hair (almost black!), which is just below my chest, and I have curtain bangs and layers. I have a wave pattern, and brown eyes. I have light to medium acne/acne scars, lips on the fuller side, and a round face. I have a little, singular freckle on the tip of my nose, and one beneath my lip. I dress in multiple different styles, and can never choose just one. But my main styles are Boho, whimsy twee. I have two sets of glasses. One black pair, one clearish-violet pair. I'm a pretty insecure person, but i'm willing to make an effort in a relationship. I have Autism and ADHD, and I can be pretty loud sometimes when speaking (unknowingly). My love languages are...idk, all of them?? I'm not super experienced with relationships (my last boyfriend was HORRIFIC), but I love making my partner feel worthy of love, and generally good about themselves. I need to often feel reassured, and I overthink frequently. I linger on arguments on accident, and I have a hard time talking about it. I FREAKING LOVE MOVIES!! My favorites are V/H/S 94, Splice, and American Psycho! I love to draw and scrapbook, as well as going to the nature reserve near my house. I listen to a few different genres of music, but I have a few favorites such as: Dazey and the Scout Destroy Boys Weezer The Bloodhound Gang Fiona Apple Creed Amyl and the Sniffers Reel Big Fish ------------------ Into abserdism. I believe our reason to be on this earth is to experience its wonders, and prioritize your own joy. Big ol introvert. I hate public spaces. I get extremely overstimulated, resulting in me becoming a little irritated with others around me as i'm overwhelmed by everything. Not the best relationship with my dad, great relationship with my mum. ------------------- I play video games such as; Postal Series Minecraft Splatoon Multiple pokemon games TF2 Sims 4 ( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ ) thank you!!

You did technically send this when I had my inbox closed, but no worries; the penalty is just a shorter piece lol X') I hope you still like it though !!

Matchup for Movie!Anon

Sniper

You both like nature and both are just a little insecure about things (me too tbh)

Oh also you're both Australian by nationality! When you two first meet, he's immediately put at ease upon hearing your accent :)

He would love to do little movie dates, where the two of you just sit on some bean bags or something and cuddle up at night :)

Sniper's not used to all those big dates and so on, so he's much more comfortable with you in his arms in private

He would absolutely learn how to braid your hair if you want.

Although, don't tease him about it (or do), because he will get all pink in the face X)

"Just.. just turn around and let me do it, alright...?!"

I'm not sure what exactly Sniper listens to, but I think he'd enjoy indie rock so you're in good company when on road trips !

He would definitely take you on trips where the two of you can be alone and just explore nature together

He's not exactly an arts and crafts person, but he thinks it's so cool that you do scrapbooking and draw

He will totally watch you as you sketch or glue things on with hearts in his eyes :)

If you want, he'll bring back things from nature or bring you to certain places to draw/scrapbook !

If you draw him, he will absolutely get all flustered about it, maybe even trying to cover his face with his hat

"..You really did this for me..? Love.."

Also believes in absurdism; life is what you make it, and he's happy where he is (with you), so he doesn't really care about a higher purpose as long as you're with him :)

Demo

He will absolutely chill with you on the couch (with a couple beers) and watch movies till you both pass out

It's his favourite kind of date, where the two of you can just commentate on some random stupid plot or character and laugh about whatever together

Also he loves the freckle on your nose !! He will constantly be booping it and kissing it :)

"I can't help myself, really! It's like an 'x marks the spot,' love."

He likes the colours in your outfit !! He likes your hair too, although he might not be good at braiding it like Sniper...

He isn't exactly big on nature but he'll totally get you some wildflowers in hopes you'll like them (he's trying)

Demo will totally play Splatoon with you. He likes the chaos.

Although don't expect him to go easy on you; he is competitive and you are not safe

"HAH! Take THAT ya wee- Oh, sorry love. Love you...!"

He will try scrapbooking with you. Emphasis on try

He just really wants to see you smile, and if you ever feel anxious about things, he will kiss you repeatedly until you feel better :)

He also doesn't really care that you're chubby; to him it just means better hugs :,)

He is also quite loud, so he doesn't mind at all about your lack of volume control ! He will probably swear at someone endlessly if they insult you about it X)

He's your personal hype man, what more can I say?

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 43: The Moss

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: "Whimsy" and "wisdom" are pretty similar words, when you think about it. Acceptance is found in unexpected places, exchange between a silly girl and God and his will incarnate.

Author's Note: The song for this chapter is The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Come listen, all ye fair maids, to how the moral goes

Nobody knew and nobody knows

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There’s someone within the group that traveled all this way at the behest of their leader...who isn’t a fan of hot springs. How could that be?! The epitome of peace...ease...healing. The water cleanses you and the steam kisses your cheeks. Who could dislike such a thing, a place that nature carved into the ground so lovingly so as to cure human ailment and sorrows?

The answer is someone that isn’t human, of course.

Indeed, a place like that would do the opposite of what was intended. The water would sink into his joints; the steam would ruin his varnish. When you replace your body, you also replace your needs.

This is why Sasori prefers to work both alone and in the dark.

His room in the inn is closed off, blinds strewn over the one window and a towel kicked to fill up the gap underneath the door, lest obnoxious light and sound stream in. He sits on the bed, not because he wants to but because it is convenient, and he holds his latest masterpiece by the chin.

All of a sudden, over his shoulder...he feels the sculptures of Deidara’s looming from their spot on the table, despite how small they are. Two tiny people, one with a ponytail and one with a hat, standing so close they could be holding their diminutive little hands. Brown eyes acknowledge, but only just a moment, just long enough to narrow and then for his mouth to huff before he turns back to what is, in comparison, clearly the superior form of art.

Corpse turned person looks up to someone the same way, her arms resting either side of his hips upon the mattress while his palms cup her face above his lap.

He knows that what Deidara does and what he does...are both replications of themselves, in a way. He knows this, and so he has to ignore, lest he see himself on the same lowly level as anyone else.

...Ridiculous.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes

Or how the Dong came to own a luminous nose

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Jesus Christ...”

The woman swears as she stands up from where she slept in the corner, between a travel bag and a cabinet, a more sickly tone of her skin under her eyes and spine very, very reluctant to twist its vertebrae after being stuck in the same place for hours on end.

Caw, caw. A bird somewhere, deep in the forest, calls out. For what? Who knows. Most everyone else of its kind has gone to their second home, elsewhere across this planet. It helps her wake up, to think about that kind of loneliness.

One big, big stretch...and she finally notices what is missing.

Konan is gone.

Emotions and thoughts race from one to another in seconds. Surprise, fear, embarrassment...memory. The traveler hunches her shoulders forward and looks to the pristinely made bed, daylight brushing onto dust motes so as to see their shape, almost like fairy-dusted sprites. That bed...presumably where Konan had slept. She exhales a small, self-pitying sigh.

And now she has to go on with the rest of her life, everything she did last night a shadow that walks behind, looming as a reminder. Joy.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Where the Jabberwocky's small green tentacles do flow

And the Quangle Wangle plays in the rain and the snow

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I see you’re struggling a bit,” someone speaks, standing besides a curtain. It rests just next to a window just barely cracked open, a small breeze bringing in cold air that shifts the fabric somewhat in front of a figure behind an orange mask. “May I give a word of advice?” the secret Uchiha asks. The tone from covered lips isn’t the one he usually wears, but that doesn’t seem to surprise his audience at all.

Pain gives a long, slow blink. It isn’t like Madara to reveal himself, not outside of Amegakure...though perhaps these circumstances are out of the ordinary. He is, after all, skipping about most of these days as a clown named Tobi. He uncrosses his leg, sitting up straighter in the kitchen chair as he looks somewhat upward to the man by the window pane. “I suppose so.”

“The best way to circle in on the girl…” a normally saccharine spiral suggests, “Is to use her curiosity.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon?

Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But there’s no opportunity for Pain to try such a thing if she stays holed up, as she has been attempting to. With no space truly her own and the living room full of mixed feelings, she’s hanging out in everyone’s favorite place for awkward, comforting sadness: a closet full of old clothes. For the first time, at least to her eyes, Tobi appears, orange mask around the corner with a quick yet light “boop!” and gloved fingers gripping the side of the open doorway as he leans so far in, just to distract, just to delight. “Takara-chan!”

And she responds with equal excitement. “Tobi!”

Scarves fall to the sides as she practically jumps at the sight of her friend. She runs to him, so immensely relieved. It becomes immediately, abundantly clear: she’s been stressed and suppressed as hell. But he already knew that.

He lets her hug as long as she’d like, then holds her a second longer.

“Tobi, where have you been!”

“Oh!” he responds, chipper as ever, as if nothing about him is strange at all. “Around!”

The traveler tilts her head up from where she was snuggled at his chest, trying to look for his expression regardless of the whole faceless situation he has going on. “Around?”

…

A pause, and he answers. “That’s all you’re getting out of me, Takara-chan!”

And the woman gives a nervous laugh, one that becomes a bit softer and eventually fades away alongside her smile. She continues to let him hold her, his arms no longer a mere hug but a place of solitude. She sighs so nicely in his ear. He pats her back, rests his chin on her shoulder.

“...Takara-chan?” Tobi asks, voice quiet enough you quite aren’t sure if it’s his usual, sweet one.

“...Yeah?”

“You don’t seem like you’re having fun.”

…

He’s so easy to perform for, yet so impossible to lie to. More of her weight falls upon him, and her voice, too, gets lower. “Tobi…” she asks behind his ear, “You don’t have any idea what they’re doing...right?”

He backs up just enough to let her go and tilt his head. It flusters her in an instant.

“I-I-I- mean… If they want something...why don’t they just ask for it? Outright?”

Tilts the other way. The woman follows his angle, tilting her own head till she can feel her hair dangle, giving a small frown and a raised brow. “Tobi...?” the performer asks, unsure what she’s supposed to get out of his behavior. His answer, put so straightforwardly, floors her:

“It’s hard to ask for something if you don’t know what you want.”

Her eyes flinch a bit wider, and she understands now why he let her go; it’s lest she feels suffocated.

“What?!” she exclaims reflexively, then hunching her shoulders and fidgeting her fingers in nervous, racing thought. “So like...I’m just around for his curiosity? But— but—!”

The man in a dark green scarf doesn’t add anything, and she is forced to speak her mind, talk out her emotions. What a horrible, necessary lesson, he laments, watching her squirm and beg for help with her wide eyes.

But she does understand, eventually.

“But…” she continues, softer and calmer, and finally willing to look where his eye should be, that black hole in the middle of a spiral. “...Still...why doesn’t he just ask me things? He doesn't seem like...the shy type.” Never one for being good with indirectness herself, ironically. A fragile girl would rather be broken outright than be chipped away piece by piece. But Tobi shares no such fear, he who revels in the disguise, finds his strength within it. He responds somehow both childishly and wisely, perhaps like he's talking to a younger kid on the playground.

...Except they’re in a closet, drowning in old and dusty clothes.

“Oh, Leader-sama isn’t very good at talking.” But he quickly interrupts himself, putting a finger to scratch his chin. “Er...one-to-one, I mean. He’s more of a public speaker kind of guy.”

“I...huh.” And all of a sudden...it hits her. "Huh.” Gravity feels stronger and she walks past her enigmatic friend, wandering over to an empty loveseat in the room adjacent to her dark, moth-scourged haven now absolutely littered with unfolded winter-weather laundry.

The masked man sees the woman inhale...and exhale...as she holds her head in her hand and prepares to ask him a question.

“Tobi...are you saying he and Konan just...have no ulterior motives? For keeping a total stranger in their care?!”

The answer is obvious, and he makes that abundantly clear, regaining his bright and obnoxious persona. “Uhuh!”

“Tobi…” she continues, repeating his name as if it'll make him make sense, brow now pinching till it gives her a headache. “That’s really hard to believe!”

“Oh contrare!” A black-glove wags a finger at her. “I don’t think it’s as hard to as you think it is! Just stop viewing them as the big bad leaders! Think of them like...well…” And emphasized with a shrug: “...everyone else!”

…

Her eyes narrow at him, and the reply is deadpan. “...You mean ninjas that can kill me.”

“Yes! Er. No. I meaaaaan!” He bounces back and forth, both in opinion and with his body, arms up to arms down to arms every which way as he acts out all the contradictions of what he intends to say. Eventually, though, they cross and stay that way. Thank god, she was getting dizzy. “Well...you got everyone else to play along.” What a strange choice of words— “Think about it! Everyone else so far has just wanted someone. What do you think they want?”

And despite herself...she could never forget what they asked for, the leader and his first mate looking down upon her in a hollowed out tree, and she so stupidly sees they did, indeed, put it outright after all:

“...All they want is to know about me,” the woman mutters in realization, a blink to push back all she used to believe. “About my world.”

A long, long silence stills the air, and for a second, she wonders if there’s an expression he holds, just behind his mask, and if it’s better or not that it can’t be seen. How he chooses to reply is much the same.

“...Is that so bad?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Or she, who leapt up mountains, while whistling up a tune

And swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

For once, it’s the girl that asks for something first— first thing she’s requested, really, besides being able to sleep in the living room. That kinda sorta failed, so maybe this will kinda sorta succeed? Here goes nothing.

Inch. By inch. By inch. She side-steps into their vision, a man and a woman seated facing each other, though their heads were already angled to lock onto where she’ll end up standing. The performer begins to regret not bringing her guitar, not having something to ground her as she begins to speak up.

“You guys...uh...wanna go for a walk with me?”

A glance between sharp orange eyes and soft violet. Silence. She swears she feels a bead of sweat on her temple, how tense this makes her as she stands in front of them, arms glued to her sides and head tilted down in a shy sort of submission.

“So.” ... “Uhhhh—”

More silence; somewhere along the way they stopped looking at each other and started to look at her. The stranger’s cheeks become pink as she comes to realize what is happening.

“Oh— oh. Uh,” she stammers at their strange form of conveying agreement. “Okay. Just— follow me?”

Not much following to be done if she keeps still. The performer forces herself to turn around and start walking, lest to freeze up watching the two approach.

They go outside, start to walk the path in the woods, the one towards the lake but not necessarily to it. Just getting lost, looking around. That’s been her idea, after all. Hopefully they don’t ask too much. ...Ah, Jesus, she might be fucked if they ask too much. Welp! Too late to stop now.

Thankfully, no such thing happens. The two keep pace on the rough, chipped path, one on either side of her. She has no idea if they’re content or if they’re on guard. It hasn’t been terribly long, sure, but the woman swears she hasn’t seen one of them so much as relax their shoulders. It makes her feel stiff just seeing 'em.

An exhale, and the performer does her best to reenact the mindset she had, when she traveled with Itachi and Kisame. Forget your troubles, enjoy the cool touch in the air. Leveling her head is the best chance she has to actually making this plan work. She turns her head around, taking in the beauty.

“So, uh…” she asks, trying to fill the disquieting gaps of sound. “Was it a long journey to get here?”

“Yes,” Konan answers flatly.

...

...

...And that’s it! Great. Wonderful! The traveler is having a fantastic time.

They are not great conversationalists.

“I. Uh. Uh.” Blind, desperate reaches into her brain find a sentence to jump off of for a continued topic. “Sorry it was so long.”

“...Why are you apologizing?” Konan asks.

“Uh.” Oh Jesus Christ, why IS she?! It isn’t her fault they lived far away! Embarrassment makes her lose the plot. “I. Uh. ...Sorry.”

...

...

Konan glances to Pain from behind the woman’s shoulders. If you have a plan, save me now.

And thankfully, he already did.

“Tell me…” the orange-haired man drawls, a bit of wind flicking his collar. “Have my followers been...sufficient?”

“Uh.” The word is inevitably repeated again. Blink blink. She turns her gaze back to him in confusion. “...What?”

“Apologies. To clarify...I mean in teaching you.”

And another word repeats, too. “...Oh.” Her brow furrows. “I didn’t realize that was an actual assignment. I mean...some of them have taught me some things? ...But...” She abruptly feels on the spot, guilty, and a bit nervous. Like she’s supposed to know more…

She's just been horsing around, playing house and singing songs no one really gets. Maybe, all along, she's been wasting precious time; the thought strikes like lightning from her brain, down her spine, into her heart.

“Then let’s take opportunity to clear the air,” Pain says, taking control of where the conversation will go; she can tell that intent immediately, but will it be for the better? “Listen. I know this is difficult. I know that you don’t trust me— not fully. But I think that can be changed. I want you to believe that I have your best interest at heart. And perhaps...exchange of information is a good place to start.”

“...Well.” A third word now comes, one she didn’t know she had in her, as it conveys she and him really are on the same page. Uh. Oh Well. Wow! “Well…” she trails, and she unconsciously begins to stop in her tracks. If they’re exchanging information, perhaps it’s best to pick something a little less...loaded than what she really wants to confirm the most. “What’s chakra?”

Crunch, crunch. Leaves crackle underneath the sandals of painted toes. The leader of the Akatsuki, once again, gives a hum low and long and with a slight upturn, just enough to give away a sense of humor.

“My hunch was correct. You really don’t know or have such a thing.” Bracing herself for a possible scolding proves unnecessary. He’s more than willing to explain.

In fact, he begins right then and there, making her lose all the tension she holds so tightly in her body. A gasp is made as a pale hand, fingernails so boldly red and impossible to miss, stretches to a stick on the ground embedded into days upon days of mud and freezing fog. He does not bend down. And yet.

And yet.

The stick is taken into his palm, like the two things are magnetized.

God and angel drink in the wonder and awe in those eyes, the gaze of a civilian. They try to remind themselves...not to tire of it. To ingrain it on their souls like a tick on a scoreboard. Again, and again, they’ll show the whole world.

“Think of it...as this…”

What was once horizontal into the ground becomes vertical, Pain pointing the sharper end of the wood into the earth. The performer watches it etch a shape then draw lines within.

“Chakra,” Pain says, “Is a substance that is abundant in all sentient life forms.” The tool pulls away, and it is now clear that the outer boundaries in the dirt resemble a human being, what appears to be veins crawling within from the core of the chest. “It’s produced by organs within the body, and it is transferred much like the circulatory system carries blood, or perhaps more so like the nervous system carries stimulation. Shinobi, by and large, are people that are trained to manipulate chakra.”

Chameleon eyes wait for starry ones to finish taking it in, catch up detail by detail before moving on; eventually, he is satisfied. He pivots ever so slightly to the left side of this image and next begins to form a circle. He splits it in half.

“The creation of chakra involves two things: energy physically manifested in the molecular structure; and energy spiritually generated from your consciousness. Both are finite, but can be trained, much the same way you can strengthen your muscles, grow the capability of your mind. Shinobi can have innate abilities, yes. We have groups called ‘clans’: descendants who share certain skills through their bloodline. But a strong shinobi trains. They work, and work, and test themselves constantly. You’re a musician.” A shift in his tone, one she doesn’t understand until the next sentence follows it up.

“Consider it practicing your art. Or perhaps more aptly...suffering for it.”

The wind whistles a bit more when the branches are barren of leaves.

He sees the furrow of her brow. Regardless of how fantastical everything is...he can tell. She’s having trouble wrapping around it. A look to Konan. She, as always, nods and carries out his will.

“Takara-san,” she says to gently pull her attention. Once it’s had, the ame-nin holds out her palm. Unsure what it means, the civilian looks down to it. A twitch of her stare up. A twitch down. And with nothing else to do...she begins to reach forward.

But with another gasp, she flinches back.

Like disturbing a nest of insects, the ninja's flesh becomes white— starkly white— and begins to flutter away, piece by piece in thin, folded slivers. The woman’s jaw drops and her gaze follows the small sprites to the gray sky. They look so...so...—

Why are they so familiar?

One lingers closer to her face, and she cups her hands to let it land. The shape of it...the sensation…!

It’s made of...paper!!!

“W—...wha—…?” Brow furrows...eyes squint...and then they pop open. The infinite is in her eyes, incredible and bright. “Wow...that’s like…” Quick tilts of her head, up and down, up and down, as a mind taken aback attempts to comprehend what has just happened. Not a magic trick, not an illusion...she feels the touch of the origami, the breeze it makes shifting its wings. The truth is impossible yet undeniable. “...Wow…!”

“Do you see?” the Akatsuki’s leader enters once again, rings looking to the traveler through the fluttering, folded paper that slowly swarms the air. “It isn’t anything such as magic. Everything you see...it is possible, and it is in some tangible, eventually knowable way. Everything in this life has reasoning behind it.”

Her mouth opens at this profound revelation...but she shuts up.

“Speak your mind,” he commands. Her response is quiet, small, and hides her eyes. Her platform for the origami falls, causing it to float away.

“It’s just that. Well. I hate to argue...”

Deidara taught her, though, that she shouldn’t, and there’s no indication from the holy pair that she needs to cease. As such, she takes a breath and follows her gut, closing her eyes, putting a finger to her chin, and recalling something she heard long before:

“There’s a phrase where I’m from. It goes something like...”the advancement of science...is indistinguishable from magic”. That means like… Magic is just...well...things we can’t explain yet! You know what I mean?”

He angles his head ever so slightly, prodding her to continue; this is her side of the exchange. Another in and out of air in her lungs, and she gives it a go, lest she selfishly withhold her end of he bargain. She looks up to the sky littered here-there with gray, wispy clouds.

...Here we go.

“I figure...the history you guys have, if human nature is the same, can’t be that far off from what I know. Correct me if I’m wrong, but...maybe think back to stories you’ve heard about generations beyond. I’ll just...talk about details from my own so forgive me.” She is forgiven, of course, though Pain feels no need to verbalize that. “We used to think that the celestial bodies were like...well...exactly that! Actual things that act like gods and controlled our lives. Even down to the positions they take up there affecting your personality at birth...and then your fate day by day.”

Astrology... It isn’t her thing, but it’s so easy to imagine how it began. If you know nothing about what’s really out there, alongside with hardly knowing what happens down here, it makes one draw connections. Superstitious thinking isn’t inherently wrong; it’s just humans following intuition.

“We credited everything and anything that happens to the sky...because it made sense with the information we had.” Wait— She gets an earful of herself, and her heart leaps out of her chest. Hands come out from under her cape and grip her shoulders in anxiety. “Shit…!” she mutters, then adds more mindfully: “Sorry. Sorry. I—...I’m doing a bad job at this.”

How boggling. Given room to speak and clear the air and she’s already trying to run off the stage. What happened to being a performer? It just makes Pain more curious. “No. Keep going. There’s only one way we’ll get there. I am patient.”

...

“They used to think prayers fixed you when you said them, chanted them while applying potions,” she murmurs, so quiet it’s nearly under her breath. “But that was just...the right length of time you needed to put the salve on the wound, make it effective. They used to think foxes brought you to treasure, because they knew how to fit into tiny spaces you couldn’t. You—...”

Finally, finally a look, and there’s a desperation in the way she looks to the two Akatsuki, trying so hard to connect and fearing failure. “—...See where I’m going with this...?”

The leader continues to speak for them both.

“...I could,” he answers dubiously, though not unkindly, “...Perhaps. How about I share something...common among our folk?” And the purple circles widen, just a touch, just enough for emphasis. “Songs for our folk stories, these lessons you allude to.”

A meaningful pause. Hell of a cue if she’s ever seen one. It makes her swallow.

Konan’s origami is stagnant yet alive, like real butterflies idly twitting their wings as they rest upon brown wood and verdant moss, all over the cold trees surrounding them. Moss… Ah. There’s something.

“I...I actually have one," the traveler finds. "For this.”

She has to walk around as she sings, performs, lest she get too nervous. Lest she make real eye contact.

Her voice is a lot shakier at the start. It’s reminiscent of her first days at the bar. That makes sense; first time she sang for these two a few days ago, she got to hide away. All in the open now, raw and new and so very exposed. She points up to a tree, stripped mostly of leaves but with bark greening with beautiful decay, praying internally that this is somehow, really, going to help.

Legend has it that the moss grows on

The north side of the trees

She taps the sole of her boot into a shallow puddle, watches the ripple change the shape of her face. She speaks down to it, stretching her fingers at the water in demonstration, a gesture of “look here.”

Legend has it that the rain comes down

And the worms come up to breathe

Tilts her chin up, twirls around and bends her arm at the elbow to point a finger to the side. The point then trails up, up, up, as if she’s showing imaginary children the direction in which flowers grow.

Legend has it that the sunbeams come

All the plants, they eat them with their leaves

And closing her eyes, lest she see herself in the reflection of their eyes, she spreads her arms and spins with a tilt in her shoulders, trying to match the way planet Earth works.

Well, legend has it that the world spins ‘round

On an axis of 23 degrees

It’s the first time she noticed something. Something so obvious and vast and unmistakable. It nearly stops her melody with surprise. How did she miss this...?

Today, getting so wonderfully lost, the performer sees twists and turns of roots, varying size and height. You could even use them to climb to where canopies used to be, back in the days of summer where foliage sheltered the forest floor from the sun. Fate’s a weird, lovely thing, giving her something so perfect, both to tell her lesson and keep her occupied. The traveler walks along the trail, up until there’s opportunity to go up. A boot lifts from under her dress, then another, climbing over vines that weave onto and around the knots of wood. Brambles try to catch onto her skirt but lose the tug-o-war, letting her go. Konan glances to Pain as the girl goes on ahead without any any acknowledgement sent back...and he doesn’t look. He just follows.

And despite her hesitation, so does she.

Up and down, up and down. She ascends from a raised knot of a root to a lowered nook of a branch. Words fall from her lips, stilted by the physical activity yet diligently unceasing, rhymes and spells and whimsies that make no sense...and yet they do. You understand what she means, even if it’s utter nonsense.

There’s something admirable about that, about keeping a bit of something so childish alive...even if it is, too, very sad that one must. Pain and Konan know both these things, but feel them in different amounts, hence why while both are steel-faced they have different internal reasonings.

She hums the last part of the song, in her head the clarinets and oboes fading until the gobbles and plunks of sinking water drown the remnants of the song, like the Kraken carrying explorers to the bottom of the sea to join the treasure they tried to claim in its lair.

An exhale, the lady a bit weary from the exercise...and then...it all hits her at once: she was given a thorough explanation of something very real, very serious...and she told them about fairy tales. Her face is instantly hot and beat red. How could she have let this happen?!

Drop, drop.

They both come down, not in a grand jump but almost like kids hanging from swings, onto the ground beside her. It’s suddenly much harder to catch her breath, and the stranger looks at them with wide, twitchy eyes watching for trouble.

“I...I—...S-sorry. Sorry—”

And as they often do...God and Angel exchange glances in silence...and arrive back to her in full agreement.

“It’s difficult to convey such wisdom so...concisely,” the leader says.

Did she hear that right?! Wisdom?! No fucking way. “I…” And then, of course, denial. “I didn’t write it, I just…”

“You shared it with us,” Konan interrupts. “I’m certain it isn’t without skill to memorize a song.”

“Oh—” Oh shit! “Oh, you flatter me— But it’s just...well…”

…

They’re looking at her expectantly. They are...listening to her. Really ACTUALLY listening…!

A tiny, tiny part of her heart soars so high it punctures the organ like a pin in a balloon. A lady so small finds it hard to accept really, truly, being big. “...I’ve never thought it impressive that I just tell people the songs I-I-I’ve always...listened to.”

And something impossible happens. For the first time...Pain smiles. He seems to...for real. Not a conversational ploy, not barely there...it curves his lips up and he, somehow, may actually be capable of feeling joy.

“Then you’ve been training all your life for days like these.”

A paper butterfly lands on the performer's nose, and it all feels too good to be true.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Well, we can all learn things, both many and a-few

From that old hunched-up woman who lived inside a shoe

Or the girl that sang by day and by night she ate tear soup

Or the man who drank too much and he got the brewers' droop

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[ronaldanthony4]

I made another digital artwork once again. It had been a while since my last piece, but this time, I was inspired by a beloved cartoon character—Star Butterfly from "Star vs. The Forces of Evil." Something about her vibrant energy, her wild and carefree nature, and her ability to bring joy wherever she went made her the perfect subject for my latest creation. As I worked on the piece, I focused on capturing her essence through bold colours and dynamic lines, aiming to convey her spirited personality in every brushstroke.

As I sat in front of my tablet, stylus in hand, I knew exactly how I wanted to portray her. I envisioned Star standing confidently, her bright blue eyes shining excitedly, her signature blonde hair cascading down her back like a golden waterfall. She would be in one of her iconic outfits, the one she called her "Edgar dress." This dress was a teal sleeveless garment that flared out at the bottom, featuring four colourful stripes on the chest—pink, purple, and two shades of orange. A small, smiling bear face sat towards the hem, a playful detail that made it uniquely hers.

I paid extra attention to the small details, making sure every part of her design stayed true to her personality. Her light sea-green and pale-green striped leggings stretched down to her knees, giving her that quirky, mismatched aesthetic that fit her so well. On her feet, she wore her bright pink boots with white bunny faces on the toes and dark pink soles, a touch of whimsy that made her look as if she had just stepped out of her magical adventures. To complete the look, she had her signature red devil-horned headband, a mischievous yet endearing accessory that added to her playful persona.

Drawing Star's face was the most enjoyable yet challenging part. She had such distinctive features—her enormous blue eyes, always brimming with curiosity and excitement, and her signature pink heart emblems on her cheeks. Those hearts weren’t just decorations; they often changed shape depending on her emotions. Sometimes they morphed into hourglasses, light bulbs or even blooming roses. In my artwork, I wanted to capture her at her happiest, her cheeks adorned with those perfectly symmetrical hearts, her lips curled into a bright, confident grin.

Star was never one to sit still or pose demurely. She was bold, lively, and full of energy, so I positioned her in a way that reflected that. One hand rested on her hip, exuding confidence, while the other playfully lifted in a slight gesture as if she were about to cast a spell or break into one of her wild, impromptu adventures. Her body language screamed excitement, mischief, and pure joy, the essence of what made Star, well, Star.

As I worked on the shading, I imagined the kind of world she belonged to—a place of swirling colours, magical portals, and creatures from another dimension. I set her against a dreamy backdrop, a beautifully lit garden with arches covered in delicate pink flowers, a soft, pastel wonderland that complemented her whimsical nature. The light filtering through the arches added an ethereal glow to the scene, making it feel like a moment frozen in time, a fairy tale come to life.

But Star wasn’t just about appearances. She was one of the most endearing characters I had ever encountered. She was bubbly, optimistic, and fiercely loyal. Strangers, in her eyes, were just friends she hadn’t met yet. She had this incredible ability to bring people together, to turn even the most mundane moments into magical experiences. Whether she was casting a spell that turned things into kittens or just goofing around with her best friend Marco, she always found a way to make life exciting.

Of course, her optimism often bordered on recklessness. Growing up as a princess in the royal kingdom of Mewni, she had lived a rather sheltered life before being sent to Earth. Her first instinct was always to have fun, sometimes at the expense of common sense. She would rush headfirst into situations without thinking them through, sometimes putting herself and others in danger. But that was part of her charm—her boundless enthusiasm, her belief that anything was possible if she just tried hard enough.

While she was mostly cheerful, there were times when she struggled. She hated being ignored or not taken seriously. Deep down, she wanted to prove that she was more than just a fun-loving troublemaker, that she had the strength and wisdom to be a leader. She might not have had the strategic mind of a seasoned ruler, but she had heart, and sometimes, that was more important than anything else. Despite her occasional struggles, she always found a way to bounce back with even more determination.

Her journey was one of growth, learning, and self-discovery. She started as a carefree princess who saw life as one big adventure, but as time passed, she faced real challenges—friendship struggles, family conflicts, and even the burden of responsibility as the future queen of Mewni. She realised that leadership wasn’t just about having fun; it was about making difficult choices, about putting others before herself. Through it all, she never lost sight of who she was and what she believed in. Her resilience and inner strength inspired those around her, showing that true leadership comes from the heart.

As I added the final details to my artwork, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Star Butterfly wasn’t just a character; she was a symbol of joy, adventure, and resilience. She reminded me that it was okay to be different, to embrace the chaos of life, to be unapologetically myself. I leaned back and looked at my completed piece. There she was—standing tall, radiating confidence, her vibrant outfit and mischievous grin capturing everything that made her special. She was a force of nature, a whirlwind of energy and excitement, a reminder that even in the toughest times, a little bit of magic could make all the difference.

I smiled to myself, knowing that this piece was more than just fan art. It was a tribute to a character who had left a lasting impact on so many. As I prepared to share it with the world, I hoped that others would see in her what I saw—a spark of light, a beacon of joy, a reminder to never stop dreaming. With that, I saved my work, took a deep breath, and clicked the upload button. Star Butterfly was ready to shine once more. I knew that by sharing this artwork, I was not only expressing my admiration for the character but also spreading positivity and inspiration to others who may need it.

[constelllahtions]

On the Caress of Autumn Winds

She sat there, watching the autumn leaves flow briskly with the wind - shaping it in waves so beautiful she could feel their frequency vibrating within her - softly, and slowly. She sat there, surrounded by the hues of orange, and felt the resonance within her soul - the life flowing through her mimicking the crisp warmth that only fall could bring.

Her heart felt like it was glowing a little brighter with every breath of amber air she poured into herself - using nature as a catalyst to become so truly one with the world outside of her that the life flowing through her and that which she felt all around her became one and the same, circling around one another much as the brisk wind circled around her being.

Nature, she realized, was guiding her just as gently as it did the leaves - showing her the infinite wisdom that can only be unearthed through tender exploration of the journey she saw the leaves go through, the journey of seasons.

As she sat there, under the willow tree encompassed by shades of burnt ash and rusted sunshine alike, a tender leaf weaved itself into the softly braided halo that was her head. “Feel the joys of change,” it whispered, “Notice how our beloved willow once held us at its highest, but now nudges us in a slow waltz with the very roots that gave it its beginning - pay close mind to how we flow with the crisp wind around us. Do you ever see us fight against what nature wills? Questioning it? Roaring anger at it? No, you see the beauty that comes from this gentle dance between us and the wind, how when we surrender to it, it embraces us fully - just as we are - and carries us to where it all began, so that we may lay beside our brothers and sisters, lay into the hollowed out pockets of soil that gave us our light; go back down to our source - connect with it without any expectation or judgment. In fall, we honor our roots and hand them our unwavering trust, so that they may bring together all the magic we felt at the top, and breathe us into being once again. It is not all that different from you, now is it?” The girl found herself smiling at this, a soft, dewy smile that shined through her eyes, “I’m just like you, aren’t I?” And with that, right there, under the beautiful amber rainbow that was the willow tree, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the breath of life inside. She let the winds of her breath carry her closer and closer to her heart, feeling herself slipping into a dreamless sleep in the hollowed-out pockets of soil that held her darkness. And as she did she understood, that rest is the root that breathes light into her soul, so that life may once again nurture her with the whimsies of nature.

m.f

[harmonyhealinghub]

Journey into Motherhood Shaina Tranquilino August 7, 2024

Rebecca had always been a planner. She thrived on organization and predictability, crafting her life meticulously around schedules and lists. But as she stood in the softly lit nursery, the pastel colours soothing yet foreign, she realized that nothing could have prepared her for this moment.

The room was ready. The crib, adorned with a mobile of delicate stars and moons, stood against the wall. Shelves lined with books and stuffed animals added a touch of whimsy. But it was the rocking chair, nestled by the window with a view of the blooming garden outside, that called to her.

Rebecca lowered herself into the chair, her hands instinctively cradling her swollen belly. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It was a mix of excitement and apprehension, an intoxicating blend of joy and fear. The tiny life growing inside her was both a miracle and a mystery.

In the quiet of the room, she thought back to the day she and David had discovered they were expecting. It had been an ordinary Tuesday, marked by an extraordinary revelation. They had laughed, cried, and held each other in stunned silence, their future suddenly unfurling in a thousand new directions.

David had been a pillar of support throughout her pregnancy, his calm demeanour balancing her moments of anxiety. They attended every appointment together, read every book, and decorated the nursery with care. Yet, as the due date approached, Rebecca felt the weight of impending motherhood pressing down on her.

"Will I be a good mother?" she had asked David one night, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness.

"You already are," he had replied, his hand resting on her belly, feeling the gentle kicks of their unborn child.

Now, sitting alone in the nursery, Rebecca let those words wash over her. She already was a mother. She had nurtured this life, protected it, and loved it fiercely even before meeting the tiny person who would soon change her world forever.

A sudden movement broke her reverie. A sharp kick, followed by a series of rhythmic rolls, made her laugh. "Alright, little one," she murmured, her hand tracing the movements. "I get it. You're ready to meet us too."

That night, as she lay in bed, the first contractions began. Soft at first, then growing in intensity, each one a reminder that the moment they had waited for was finally here. David was by her side in an instant, his presence a soothing balm against the waves of pain.

The hours blurred together, a whirlwind of hospital lights and reassuring voices. Rebecca clung to David's hand, his steady gaze grounding her. She focused on her breathing, on the promise of the life she was about to bring into the world.

And then, with one final, determined push, the room filled with the sound of a baby's cry. It was the most beautiful sound Rebecca had ever heard. Exhausted but elated, she reached out, and the nurse gently placed a tiny, wriggling bundle in her arms.

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at her baby for the first time. Soft, downy hair, eyes blinking against the bright lights, and a little hand that instinctively curled around her finger. In that moment, everything else faded away.

David leaned in, his eyes also wet with tears. "Welcome to the world, little one," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Rebecca looked up at him, then back at their child. "We did it," she said, her voice a mix of awe and relief. "We're parents."

In the quiet of the hospital room, as the world outside continued its unending spin, Rebecca felt a profound sense of peace. She had become a mother, and in doing so, had discovered a depth of love she had never known existed.

The journey ahead was unknown, filled with sleepless nights and countless challenges, but also with moments of pure, unbridled joy. And as she held her baby close, Rebecca knew she was ready to embrace it all, one beautiful, unpredictable day at a time.

[soulofapatrick]

A Second Shot - Joel Miller x Reader

Part One ⇢ Cup of Joel 

Summary: Neither Tommy nor Joel show up for a week and you believe you’ve fucked up

Words: 2.1k 

Warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

For some reason neither Tommy nor Joel came back to the coffee shop and I think I scared them off as the last time I saw them was when I met Joel and gave him my number. He never texted and called me so I quickly dashed out the embers of hope as it’s better to stop it before it starts. I distract myself by opening the cafe, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee no longer bringing me the same joy it once did as I see the beautiful shade of Joel’s eyes in every cup. God, I’m like a schoolgirl with her first crush, it’s so stupid. I have to prepare the shop fro the day, brewing the coffee, organising the pastries and adjusting the seating area, but each task feels mundane and a chore. 

Customers begin to trickle in, their orders and conversations blending together as I try to maintain my professional demeanour. Even Andy freezes for half a second when I don’t laugh him back out the door, watching him sprint down the street. I serve each cup of coffee with a smile, but inside, my heart feels heavy. Doubt and regret fills my every thought as I wonder if I was too forwards and had imagined the spark between me and Joel. I have to push it all aside, focusing on keeping my customers happy but my mind drifts back to Joel and his bored shoulders, honey eyes and southern drawl. 

A new customer has been every day though and she’s a ball of literal sunshine, her eyes the same shade of dark roast as Joel’s and it hurts a little. She always orders a caramel frappe with one shot of espresso, telling me her dad doesn’t want her to become as addicted to coffee as he and her uncle are. The door swings open with a burst of energy and radiance filling the air. I’m wiping down the table, looking up and seeing her: Sarah. She’s maybe no older than seventeen, her youthful features adorned with a contagious smile that seems to light up the whole room. Her hair, a cascade of loose golden curls, falls around her shoulders in a carefree manner, framing her face with a touch of playfulness. Freckles dance across her nose and cheeks, adding to her youthful charm and giving her an air of innocence. 

She enters the coffee shop with a skip in her step, exuding an infectious enthusiasm that instantly brightens the atmosphere. I can’t help but chuckle when she throws her arms around me and hugs me, instantly recharging my recently low social batteries. She hugs me like she knows I need it and I know I shouldn’t be hugging her back but I do, of course I do. I can’t help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity. The genuine affection she displays touches my heart, momentarily easing the lingering ache that has been settling in my bones. 

With a mischievous twinkle in her dark roast eyes, Sarah releases me from her embrace, stepping back with a playful grin. "Y/N, you always give the best hugs!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine joy. It's moments like these that remind me of the power of human connection, how a simple gesture can brighten someone's day and bring solace to their soul. I gesture toward the counter, a smile still lingering on my lips. 

"Your usual caramel frappe with one shot of espresso coming right up, Sarah," I say, my voice filled with warmth and sincerity. As I begin preparing her drink, I can't help but marvel at the way her infectious energy fills the coffee shop, creating an atmosphere of pure positivity. The whirring sound of the blender mixes with the sound of our laughter as Sarah tells me about her latest adventures and escapades. Her stories carry a sense of whimsy and curiosity, and I find myself captivated by her zest for life. Each day, she brings a renewed sense of joy and lightheartedness to the coffee shop, effortlessly brightening my spirits. As I finish crafting her caramel frappe, I carefully place a dollop of whipped cream on top, adding a sprinkle of caramel drizzle for that extra touch of sweetness. I pass her the cup, my hand brushing against hers, and I'm momentarily captivated by the warmth and softness of her touch. 

Sarah takes a sip of her drink, her eyes twinkling with delight, “Perfect, as always.” She exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. She sends me another smile before heading to a table with three other chairs and I’d usually suggest customers sit at tables with enough space for them alone but Sarah is the exception as I know that her friends would soon be joining her. 

I quickly busy myself around the cafe, wiping down tables, adjusting chairs and ensuring everything is in its rightful place. The anticipation of their arrival adds a tinge of excitement to the air as they’re a lively bunch who give the cafe life on the quietest day of the week: Wednesday. It doesn’t take long for the familiar faces of Ellie, Dina and Jesse to enter the café, Jesse arriving a few minutes earlier and sitting quite a bit closer to Sarah than I’ve seen before. Ellie and Dina are arriving and their presence fills the room with a sense of familiarity and camaraderie. Ellie, with her fiery determination and piercing gaze, walks in first, her tousled brunette hair falling over her face in a charmingly disheveled manner. Dina follows, her infectious laughter and vibrant personality lighting up the space. Her curly blonde hair bounces with every step, reflecting her playful nature. I can’t help but observe their interactions, their banter and laughter weaving together like a familiar melody. Their camaraderie is evident, a testament to the strong bonds they share as friends. It warms my heart to see such genuine connections being formed within the confines of my little coffee shop. 

I continue to tend to the needs of the other customers, refilling Nancy’s cup, taking orders of strangers stumbling upon the cafe and ordering something new on a whim. The sound of the espresso machine and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere. I catch snippets of conversation and laughter from people, their voices blending harmoniously with the gentle hum of the cafe. It all makes time pass in a blur for the first time in a while, losing myself in the rhythm of the cafe, my focus on others and making sure the sun doesn’t set before the group leave as I don’t want them walking home in the dark. 

I’m serving Jesse and Ellie another coffee when the bell chimes above the door and I’m glancing up, expecting to see Andy as he sometimes comes in for a coffee after work. What I don’t expect is for Joel’s broad frame to fill the doorway. His presence fills the room and my breath catches in my throat, fumbling with Jesse’s iced latte which he surprisingly catches. I’m apologising profusely, trying to ignore the way Joel’s rugged features draw me back in almost immediately. His warm smiles and those captivating eyes that have lingered in my thoughts since out last encounter, his voice immediately making my knees weak again, “Come on girls, time to get you home for dinner.” 

Sarah and Ellie groan and my head flies up, gaze meeting Joel’s and I’m swallowing thickly as my throat suddenly feels very dry. Of course, he has a wife and two beautiful girls. I was so stupid, but Tommy seemed to be encouraging it and Sarah’s only every talked about her dad and uncle. The group of four reluctantly gather their belongings, their playful banter filling the air still, my heart sinking. I watch as Joel ushers them all towards the exit, his strong presence commanding attention. 

My hands tremble slightly as I continue to clean up their table, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The familiar sound of the bell above the door leaving me alone with my own thoughts as Joel’s probably left with his kids and doesn’t want to talk to me. I did hit on a married man, giving him my number and calling him hot. Of course he doesn’t want to talk to me or be associated with me after that. 

Nancy’s letting out a soft sound, making me glance up at her, and momentarily distracting me enough that I can barely process what’s happening. Joel’s warm touch is encircling my wrist lightly, sending jolts of electricity through me. I meet his gaze, my eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and anticipation. His voice, velvety and filled with sincerity, reaches my ears, “I’m sorry for not showing up. Tommy and I have had a rough couple of days as someone quit so the workload has doubled. I also managed to break my phone on that day too.” His words stir a glimmer of hope within me, a flicker of possibility that perhaps he is a single dad with two girls. Maybe he just didn’t see my number and maybe I really wasn’t being too forwards. Maybe- “Y/N?” Gently fingers brush my jaw, startling me and he’s quickly pulling his hand away. 

“N-no!” I gasp out and that gentle smirk slowly slips back onto his lips as he brings his fingers back up to caress my jaw and I’m leaning into it. I have to take a deep breath to steady my voice before I respond, “It’s alright,” I bring my hand to hold the wrist of his hand that’s cupping my jaw gently, “I know how busy life can be.” My mind whirls at his touch, the warmth of his hand against my skin sends a shiver down my spine, “Thank you for telling me.” 

As the seconds pass, Joel’s eyes search mine, as if seeking confirmation or a reassurance that there might still be a chance. The corner of his lips curls up into a real smile as he leans closer and asks softly, “So, when are you off next?” His voice is tinged with playfulness, “If you’re not tired of coffee I’d like to take you out.” 

A soft laugh escapes my lips, breaking the building tension that has settled between us, “Well, I promise to ask for your number instead of writing mine on a coffee cup.” I reply a hint of flirtation lacing my words, “How does Friday sound?” 

Joel’s eyes light up with amusement and relief, his voice filled with a touch of teasing “Coffee with the coffee shop barista, huh? Sounds like a date I can’t miss.” A mixture of excitement and nervousness washes over me as I realise this is real and really happening. My heart is racing, especially when Joel leans closer, his presence enveloping me like a comforting embrace. The air crackling with anticipation, and I think I hold my breath, not daring to move as his lips graze the corner of mine in a tender, fleeting touch. It’s a gentle brush, a promise of what could be, leaving my senses reeling and my heart pounding even more. He’s pulling back, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, a hint of nervousness there too, a silent confirmation of the mutual want and need for each other. His voice is now laced with a hint of huskiness, filling the space between us, “Friday can’t come soon enough darlin’.” 

The words hang in the air, charged with excitement and a promise of more. As if knowing what he’s doing to me he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he turns to leave. I’m stuck standing there, rooted to the spot, feeling light on my feet and giddy with the anticipation. The world around me a blur as a rush of warmth spreads through me, tingling in every nerve, as the realisation sinks in. The coffee shop, once just a place of routine and familiarity, has now become the catalyst for something extraordinary. The encounter with Joel has ignited a spark within me, opening a door to a world of possibilities and the thrill of a blossoming connection.. 

As I resume my tasks in the café, a newfound sense of joy accompanies me. Every interaction, every cup of coffee served, carries with it a whisper of excitement. Friday approaches with each passing day, and I can't help but count down the moments until our date, eager to explore what lies ahead.

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

Part Three ⇢ Coming soon

The Last of Us Masterlist

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[apocalypticwafflekitten]

Northern Lights

Maul x Reader 

A/N: I’m back at it again with another Maul fic! This is a cute idea that was suggested to me by @justalittlecloud! I needed and idea and they didn’t let me down! I kind of made up a story for the Northern Lights in the Star Wars Universe since I couldn’t find anything with a quick search. Did I take beats from Romeo and Juliet? Yes. And did I take inspiration from an Estonian myth? Absolutely. I just hope it’s a good story! ALSO! If you’d like to be tagged in my Starwars, or Maul-specific writings, or any other writings that I post, feel free to let me know!

Original Imagine/Summary Kinda Thingy: Maul is curious about the Northern Lights!

Warings: None, just cute, sweet, cotton-candy fluff!

Word Count: 2,322.....this was supposed to be short.....whoops.....

“Come on Maul! It’s just a few feet further! We just have to cross this little creek, and get through that bit of underbrush ahead of us.” You explained excitedly as you all but drug Maul up the side of the mountain.  

“My love, I know that you know what you’re doing, but are you absolutely sure that we’re going to the right place? This seems pretty out of the way, and we lost the trail a while back.” Maul stopped walking and pointed behind him, taking you by surprise.  

You turned and snickered at him with a smile. 

“Of course hun! I wouldn’t just take you to some random planet and travel far off a mountain trail if I didn’t know what I was doing! I’ve done this a thousand times dear. It is my home planet after all. And my favorite place on that planet no less.” You gave Maul a smirk, and he gave you an unsure look. 

“Alright. I trust you, but if you get us lost, I’ll hold it over you until the day we die.” He joked with scrutiny, pointing an accusing finger at you. Still, beneath his uncertainty, he could feel your excitement and certainty through the force, and it sent a endeared warmth through his chest. You were so cute when you were excited. 

“We won’t get lost dear. I promise! We’re almost there!”  

You smiled as he gave in, and let you take his hand again to lead him.  

You and Maul had been married for a year now. Today was your anniversary, and you wanted to do something special for him. You had to admit that coming to your home planet was a little personal pleasure just for you, but you wanted to share it with Maul, and show him something you knew he would never forget. And where better than your favorite spot in the galaxy (besides at his side of course)?

When you pushed away the last of the underbrush Maul’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. Before him lay paradise. From the top of the cliff he could see the emerald, mountainous valley for miles. The river than ran through was thin and shining like a silver ribbon under the night sky. And that sky. He had never seen so many stars in his life. Never had darkness been so beautiful. 

He was brought back to you by your chiming giggle. He didn’t even realize that you had let go of his hand, and sat on a blanket you had laid out presumably hours before you had brought him here. He closed his mouth which had fallen open at the sight of this paradise. He hadn’t realized that had happened either. 

As Maul joined you on the blanket, you smiled to him. You were surrounded by soft light from the many little candles you had lit around you. The glowing light brushed your cheek with gold, and shined off the silk dress you wore.  For a moment he forgot about the valley and the stars. You were so beautiful. Enchanting and alluring in this paradise.

You giggled again, amused by his stunned silence. 

“I was much the same the first time I saw this place. It’s gorgeous during the day, but the night makes this place indescribable. The glittering stars, and the silver river. It’s like magic. It’s paradise for me.” 

Maul was finally able to gather his thoughts into some semblance of a coherent sentence. There was so much he wanted to say, and it all wanted to spill out at once.  

“This place is...you’re...everything here is just....perfect.” He said, “Everything here is perfect.” 

He breathed out, looking from the valley, to you again with all the adoration in the galaxy.

Joy beamed through you and through your smile. Maul felt it wave through the force as you hugged him. He melted. He fell into the hug, and all but crushed you. Maybe, if he hugged you tight enough, you would be able to feel all the love, appreciation, adoration, devotion, and everything else he felt for you in it’s full measure. If only words could be passed from skin to skin.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” He murmured into the crook of your neck.  

“Of course my love. Only the best for our anniversary.”   

Maul pulled away with a suspicious look. 

“You’ve had this planned for months haven’t you?” He teased, knowing full well your meticulous tendencies.

You chuckled, and pulled away to look him in the eyes, hands slacking around his neck to rub the skin at the base of his neck.

“Perhaps.” You gave him a mischievous look paired with a smirk. 

“The cutest smirk in the galaxy.” He thought.

He laughed at your ambiguous response, though he knew the real answer.  

“Well, then I will happily enjoy whatever it is you have planned my dear.” He said as he pulled you in close beside him. You merely smiled at him in a way that said that you were indeed hiding something.

He had his suspicions about your plan. There was certainly something he wanted to do tonight, though that could wait if need be. He wondered what exactly it was that you were so excited to show him. What could make this paradise better? He never could have guessed what was in store for him. 

“Don’t worry love. That which I want to show you will show up soon.” You promised, “Until then...”   

You held his face, and turned his gaze from the stars to you. 

For the first time tonight, he really looked at you. His eyes met yours, soft and deep as he watched you, memorizing the colors of your irises and the candlelight glowing within them. His eyes wandered slowly to follow the curve of your cheek, and when he reached your lips, his thumb brushed gently against them. His eyes didn’t leave your lips until you looked down, bashful because of his intense gaze.  

“Hey,” he cupped your jaw with his hand, and gently nudged you to look up at him, “Don’t look away from me.”  

His whisper sent a shutter down your spine and sharp inhale through your lips.  

He stayed there. Staring at you with adoration and a little something more.  

There was a beat of silence before he took a shaky, laboured breath in. 

“May I?”  

His voice was breathy; desperate and he cupped your cheek, glowing with candlelight.

You chuckled a little, and looked into his wanting eyes.  

“Of course you can my love. We’re married remember. You don’t have to ask every time you want to kiss me.” Your hand held his to your face as you smiled back up at him.

His lips crashed to yours. They melded together as though they were made for each other long ago when the universe was first born. Your hands reached out to hold his handsome face. 

His touch traveled to your waist, and ran up your sides, pulling your frame in to press against him. He could feel the silhouette of your body beneath the silk of your gown. His hands wandered and rubbed at the fabric, feeling it wrinkle under his fingertips, barely protecting you from his searing touch. Oh how he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to feel your skin on his, your hands on his bare chest. Your lips on his neck. Oh he needed you to cool the burning desire in his soul. 

But before he could make his desires known, he felt you begin to pull away. His lips followed yours, unwilling to let you go. He tightened his hand around your waist and gave a disappointed whimper at your persistence. He never wanted to stop kissing you. 

You chuckled into his kiss, and held him back by his shoulder. 

“I know my love. I’d adore to kiss you more, but there’s something I have to show you...Look off to the horizon.” You whispered to him, pointing out to the edge of the world.

He pouted, but he was curious, as always, so Maul turned his head and when he saw what lay on the horizon, his eyes blew wide, and your smile grew wider. 

“Wha-what is it?” His smooth voice was filled with wonder at what he saw.  

The night sky had grown darker. Deeper. The stars were still shining, but cutting through that darkness, and through the stars were bright, beautiful ribbons of lights, cascading down to the horizon. Blues and greens danced between the mountains, and the river ran silver below. 

“It’s called Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights.” You explained, endeared by his curiosity.    

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered. 

He was transfixed. His eyes were filled with whimsy, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled as wide he could, and he didn’t think of anything else. The hues from the sky mirrored in his eyes, and you couldn’t look away from them if you wanted to.  

 “What are they?” His voice pulled you from your state of admiration.  

You blinked and collected your thoughts. 

“Do you want the scientific answer, or the legend I was always told.” You asked. 

“Either.” His voice was breathy again, but this time it was filled with wonder; He still hadn’t looked away. He looked at the sky the way he looked at you. 

“I’ll start with the legend then.” You smiled, and scooted closer to Maul, laying your head on his shoulder, your arm reaching up to rub his back, “The story goes that there were once two lovers who were bonded by the Force. Their love ran stronger than any in the galaxy,” You noticed Maul grimace in reaction, and you huffed in amusement, knowing full well his opinion on that detail, “But despite the strength of their love, they were forbidden to be together. He was a nobleman, and she was a slave girl who served his mother. So, for many years they hid their love until the nobleman was married off to a princess whom he did not love, and made to move to her home planet. The slave girl was heartbroken, as was the nobleman, but they promised never to forget one another. And their promises held. So, as a reward, when the two had lived their lives, and passed on from this world, the Force reunited their spirits, and they were wed in the afterlife. The lights you see are their spirits, travelling together for eternity, followed by the celestial spirits, and beings that celebrated along with them. They travel the sky and bless those who see them with a love strong enough to last through life and death and beyond. You explained before releasing a happy sigh,“That’s how my parents always explained it to me. I loved that story.”  

Maul took a second to look at you, his eyes holding only admiration.

“That’s beautiful my love. It reminds me of you.”  

“Of me?” You asked, cocking your head in curiosity.

“Of course.” He stated, looking back to the ribbons of light before continuing, “The way you love me, it transcends this galaxy. Your love is that strong. That true. And you show me that every day you stay beside me. Even beside that, like the lights, getting to see you, even just once, is enough to leave one wanting for a lifetime. And getting to see you every day? Your light never dims. You could never dim.”  

Maul kept his eyes glued to the lights. He may be married to you, and tonight may be your anniversary, but when those words fell from his mouth, he couldn’t look to you. Embarrassment warmed his face. In all the time you had been together, he still had trouble letting his heart spill from his lips. But when you turned his face towards you with a gentle palm on his hand, he knew that his words were more than welcome. 

He saw tears in your eyes, but these weren’t tears of sorrow. No. He could feel your overwhelming gratitude and love and admiration for him crashing into him. He knew you could feel his love as well.  

“I love you.” You whispered before pulling him in, and kissing him with your whole heart. 

“I love you too,” He breathed between kisses, “I have always loved you. The minute I set eyes on you I needed you to be by my side. My heart begged your name when we met, and since then I have never wanted any other word to fall from my lips. You are the light in this universe. You are every star. Every sun. Every planet. You make my dark soul feel beautiful.” 

“It’s because you are beautiful my love.” You cooed, tracing his jaw with your finger, and following his tattoos with your eyes, “You’re calming like the ebbing of waves on a shore. When I hear your voice, it’s a soft lullaby. I remember, when we met, it was your voice that caught my attention. It never seemed to match your reputation. I couldn’t get enough of it, and to this day, I still can’t. WHen I hear you say my name, my world stops and everything is perfect.” You huffed a laugh as your eyes flitted from his jaw to his own eyes.  

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to marry you.” Maul whispered to you, although you were alone. 

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet you!” You smile at him through a laugh with endearment shining in your eyes.  

“You’re the world to me my love. The galaxy.” 

“And you’re the galaxy to me.” 

Maul kissed you softly before turning his gaze once more to the Northern Lights.  He loved you. His wife. His rock. And he would love you through life and beyond. That was a guarantee, and promise he would never, ever break. 

Tags! 

@justalittlecloud, and @fanficsforheartandsoul​ ! 

Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged!

[veeples-archive]

Aahh Vee, hi- hello!! If it's not too late! No. 35 for lulix - please - I beg 😭💕

hey buddy! sorry this is.... very late! but i have finally finished these two boys having a good time together. :D

35. things you said at the top of your lungs

---

Motorcycles let Luce taste freedom. 

Wind nipping at every inch of exposed skin. The red flare of tail lights of cars on the highway. Colors blurring together until all he could see is a smear of green against the wide arc of blue sky.

It’s rare he gets to bring out his bike now. Usually it’s kept in storage under a dust blanket and only gets taken out once to keep the battery alive. Makes those few and far between times he could sneak away from his busy schedule and take to the roads even more precious.

Now that he’s got Felix nestled behind him though? They’re highlights in his life.

Felix’s warm weight at his back contrasts against the icy air slicing through his jacket and sweater. Winter is only beginning to bow to the oncoming warmth of spring. Nights remain cold and in winter’s icy grip, yet.

Luce tilts his head up to the blanket of stars. Farther out from Wayhaven they’re clear, less obscured by the light pollution. Tonight is especially clear, not a cloud in sight to mar the twinkling stars overhead. Without the day’s traffic to slow them down, the bike takes the winding curves up the hills with ease until they slide to stop beside a site seeing spot partially hidden by dense pine.

By the time the bike is propped up safely against a tree, Felix is already at the stone wall protecting visitors from the cliff’s edge, eyes wide and reflecting more light than any number of the stars they can see. Moments like these, where Luce gets to watch Felix take in every little detail of what Luce shows him of his small corner of the world, are nearly sacred. Words aren’t needed and don’t belong, extraneous, annoying clutter to Felix’s awe.

Still, he’s more than happy when Felix turns those lovely amber eyes on him.

“Wow, I can see the whole forest from here! It’s gorgeous!” Felix glances to one of mounted scopes and gives it a playful flick. “No quarters needed.”

“Not all of us have impeccable vampire vision, Fel,” Luce crosses his arms along the edge of the wall as he leans forward. Miles of forest stretch before him. To his eyes, just a formless, dark shape, broken up only by the sky. “Still pretty, though.”

Taking his place, Felix bumps their arms together. “Yeah, damn pretty,” he whispers. “Say, you know we’re kind of close to the Warehouse…”

“Close?” Luce arches an eyebrow. The Warehouse is in this general area but well away from the main road.

“Close for us, babe,” a grin flashes between them. “Maybe even close enough for the others to hear if we yell super loud.”

Ah. A laugh bursts out, sudden and barking. How many ridiculous notions did Felix suggest that Luce would never have followed before? Taking a day trip out to the next town over with no plans, no itinerary, nothing but gas in the car and Felix’s camera to capture it all. Digging through the bargain DVD bin and picking one blindly and watching it together, cuddled under blankets, laughing at bad acting and poor shots.

Another whimsy, and who is he to say no?

Deep breath. Hands cupped around his mouth. Lean back.

From the depths of his chest.

“AVA IS A BUTTHEAD!” 

The shout bounces further, echoing out into the faceless night. Alongside its fading whisper, another joins it in Felix’s bright tones.

“AVA IS A BUTT!”

They’re laughing, the both of them. Laughing and yelling as loud as they can, their chants rippling with laughter until they’re bent over. Hoarse and misty eyed and bursting with nearly (only nearly so) painful joy. Heads touching, hands reaching out to each other for support. The forest sings with their echoing laughter instead.

The night is alive and young, and distantly, Ava thinks she hears the clipped edge of her name.

[timeforelfnonsense]

Between Heaven & Hell

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M (no spice but its mentioned) 

Ao3

Inaleth Sweet is a D&D oc belonging to one of my dear friends @ladyofthelatke from one of our old games. We were talking about Dafni liking romance novels and realized she'd be a fan of Inaleth. A fun little easter egg! The name of Dafni's book was also brainstormed by our D&D party! I don't know that I love the ending but meh!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series 

Downtime for Dafni had become rare and fleeting in the past few days. Not that she mined being busy! She’d never been much good at sitting still. Her mind moved from thought to thought as quick as a hummingbird’s wing. A life of adventure rather agreed with her breezy disposition, that was a silver lining among the mess at least. But she found herself road-weary and overextended. Perhaps it was the tadpole or the fact she’d been in more battles in two days than she had in the last year. She couldn’t be sure. Either way, a little idle time would be good for her.

She was lounging on her belly in a grassy patch on the river bank, idly flipping through the dog-eared pages of a novel bound in soft pink leather, Between Heaven and Hell scrawled across the cover in faded gold lettering. It was a rather risqué account of an amours elf torn between the affection of her aasimar and a tiefling suiters. The first in a series penned by one Inaleth Sweet of Waterdeep -  A fellow eladrin and personal favorite author of Dafni’s. She’d read it dozens of times but it never failed to enchant and intrigue her. 

She’d always enjoyed reading. It was the only time she could bring herself to be (mostly) still. She could lose herself in the colorful whimsy of her imagination. She’d always been a romantic. Her headful of silly daydreams of love and adventure from a tender age. She had spent days on end in her village imagining what the world might be like beyond the shelter of Peleira and the familiar forests and shores of Faerie-Gwynneth. Books provided her wanderlust an outlet in the years before she crossed into the Material.

A pale hand snatched the book from her hands pulling her back to reality. Astarion glanced down at her with a mischievous grin, raising a singular angled brow. She clumsily fumbled to her knees attempting to reclaim it from him but Astarion simply raised the novel out of her reach. 

He looked almost ethereal, shrouded in the soft, peachy glow of sunset as he flipped through his stolen prize. His loose undershirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel showing off his lanky feline-esque physique. It was completely unfair for him to be that gorgeous! Somehow he managed to mix boyish charm with noble dignity. She imagined Astarion was very much the kind of man humans pictured when they talked about the peerless beauty and grace of the elves. 

“My, my, Daffodil, I never pegged you as a consumer of salacious novels. Aren’t you just full of surprises?” He said through a chuckle as he began to thumb through the pages, “You fold the corners of your books? And I thought I was despicable!” 

He might have been from the Material Plane but he had that spark of mirth common to those hailing from her homeland. It was a welcome change of pace. She’d found he could be quite charming (when he wasn’t being surly or aloof). He’d taken to treating her with teasing endearment as of late.  He would refer to her by little diminutives such as darling or dear. That was when he wasn’t calling her by that twee pet name, Daffodil. She knew that the majority of his doting was little more than suave twaddle but she couldn’t help but be won over by him.

 There were things about himself he’d clearly chosen not to disclose. She was never one for secrets but she could hardly begrudge others for having them. Astarion’s omissions were likely connected to whatever had made him so prickly in the first place. She was curious of course but she wasn’t going to press him for anything he was unwilling to give.  Dafni understood relationships much the same way she did gardens. Both required patience and dedication in order for something beautiful to flourish. She earnestly hoped a genuine friendship could blossom between them but that meant allowing him to open up to her in his own time no matter how badly she wanted to bombard him with a-million-and-one questions. 

 “What have I done to deserve this roguery?” 

“Roguery?” Astarion snickered.

“Roguery.” She repeated. “Now find your own way to pass the time and give me mine back!”

Her brows stitched, her lower lip forming that perfect little pout of hers. She was trying very hard to appear cross but her eyes gave her away. They were sparkling with impish delight as she made another valiant effort at retrieving the silly thing. Despite her tilt towards clemency, Dafni was a bit of a puck. 

“This is my way of passing the time. I can only wander among the trees so many times before the novelty wears off. Besides, making you blush is far more entertaining.” 

Dafni snorted a blite smile forming at the corners of her plump lips, “You are incorrigible, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Well, I suppose if you are that bord I could read to you?” She yanked the book from his hands, clutching it to her chest smug and victorious. Reaching out with her free hand to tap a finger on the tip of his nose. “But, I’m skipping all the dirty bits!” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“It’s that or walking around the woods for the hundredth time.” 

“You do raise an excellent point.” He sighed carefully arranging himself on the grass beside her, “Very well, I’ll agree to your stipulations.” 

“Just be glad I’m not going to make you read for one of the characters! And because I’m just so sweet I’ll even start from the beginning for you.” 

He listened intently as Dafni delivered the tale as if she were performing a one-woman play. Her face was adorably expressive as she changed her voice with each new character. Messy curls bouncing with every animated gesture. Occasionally she’d trail off feigning horror at the ‘dirty bits��� as she called them.

 What would lewd words have sounded like in her lilt voice? Part of him wanted to find out right then. That wasn’t the first time such musings had crossed his mind. Dafni had made a few appearances in his private thoughts since their meeting. She had a coy, maidenly allure that conjured up all kinds of tempting images. These were nothing more than flights of fancy but fun nonetheless. Just another benefit of keeping her around.

He found himself lingering around her almost on instinct. The joy that followed her was tangible and warm as the sun on his skin. When she was near his mind felt quieted and the fear that gnawed at him would soften just a tad. He had grown to genuinely enjoy her company. He’d expected her to be dull and overly pious. Instead, he found she was rather amusing, coquettish even. She was witty and observant, always having a playful quip at the ready. The sort of whimsical woman whose effortless charm drew people in. She would have made an excellent vampire if not for her ridiculous soft heart.

Her compulsive need to care for every living thing  with a sob story was somewhat vexing but he could hold his nose and deal with it most days. He’d make a comment here and there but really that was for her own good. She was painfully naïve, always seeing the best in people. It was clear to him Dafni’s life had been gentle. Free of hardships that might have taught her to approach others with such little skepticism. 

A part of him was grateful for her lack of suspension.  He knew gaining the trust of at least one of the members of the party would be crucial if he intended to enjoy the benefits of traveling with a group long term. Her friendship and propensity for peace making provided him with no small measure of safety. Still, that safety was at risk if she continued to offer herself up on a silver platter to every soul with even the smallest tale of woe she came across.

He glanced over at her, a found (begrudging, but found nonetheless), smile on his lips. The last rays of the setting sun casting its light on her lovely cherubic profile. While his motivations for befriending her had been far from altruistic having her near made his life provable better. When they’d first met he’d assumed her kindness would come at a price but she had surprised him, wanting nothing but his company in exchange. Without thinking he reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. The freckles, sage skin was unbearably soft  and warm against his cool palm. Her heartbeat quickened bringing his attention to the tantalizing, wildflower sent of her blood.  She leaned in close her eyes fluttering closed- 

“We should head back to the others, it’s getting dark.” Astarion muttered, pulling back from her.

“I- Ha, of course. It’s late…” Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, her eyes darting ever so quickly from his mouth back to his eyes. 

As tempting as she might be he was already in too deep with her. If he kissed her, he’d only want more. Any change to the current dynamic could disrupt the fragile safety he’d acquired. He couldn’t put himself at risk for the temporary happiness she might have brought. Perhaps when things were more settled. When he knew he could afford the risk, he would know the taste of her lips. For now though, he would have to resist. 

[ronaldanthony4]

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and I couldn’t let this Christmas pass without creating something meaningful for two of my dear friends, Claire and Faye. I’ve always believed that the best gifts come from the heart, and for me, that means putting my passion for digital art to use. Once again, I found myself hunched over my tablet, my stylus gliding across the screen, bringing life to an idea that had been blooming in my mind for weeks. This piece wasn’t just another project but a celebration of friendship, creativity, and the joy of giving.

As I worked, I thought about Claire and Faye—their personalities, unique styles, and how much they’ve meant to me over the years. This artwork wasn’t just for them; it was about them. I decided to depict them as fairies of art, magical beings who spread creativity wherever they go. The idea felt perfect, like capturing their spirits in a world of limitless art and imagination. I carefully selected colours and details that reflected their essence, infusing the piece with love and gratitude. With each brushstroke, I felt a sense of fulfilment and excitement to share this gift with them.

Let me describe Claire first. In the artwork, she radiates a kind of playful intelligence that’s hard to miss. Her sparkling green eyes are framed by her eyeglasses, giving her a sophisticated yet approachable look. Her hair is a vivid cascade of sky blue, lime green and bubblegum pink curls, tumbling over her shoulders in soft waves. It’s the kind of hair that you imagine belongs to someone who lives in a world of colour and whimsy, and it suits her perfectly. Atop her head, she wears a tiny pink top hat, tilted slightly to the side.

Her outfit continues this playful yet elegant theme. She wears a magenta dress with a sweetheart neckline, the bodice hugging her figure before flaring into a ruffled skirt that bounces with every step. The shades of magenta in her dress are soft and warm, like the first blush of dawn. On her feet are adorable magenta boots, adorned with delicate bows that add a charming, almost doll-like quality to her ensemble. In her hands, she holds a giant paintbrush, nearly as tall as she is. It’s not just a prop—it’s a symbol of her creativity, her ability to transform blank spaces into vibrant masterpieces. Her wings, transparent with a hint of pink, shimmered as if catching the light from an unseen source.

Standing beside her is Faye, her dear friend and artistic counterpart. Faye has an enchanting presence, one that immediately draws your attention. Her eyes are particularly striking—one is a shimmering blue, like the ocean on a sunny day, while the other is a vivid pink as if it holds the glow of a sunset. The contrast is mesmerising, giving her an otherworldly charm that makes you want to know more about her story. Her hair is just as captivating—a long, flowing mane of sky blue and pastel pink, tied back with an oversized, cute and elegant bow. The bow rests atop her head like a crown, accentuating her playful personality.

Faye’s outfit is a snug blue and pink sweater with a hood, giving her a slightly more casual and modern look compared to Claire’s formal attire. The dress hugs her figure before giving way to a skirt that flutters gently in the breeze. She pairs this with bold pink-and-blue striped tights, adding a playful splash of colour and pattern to her look. Her boots are high and stylish, perfect for a fairy who’s always on the move, spreading inspiration. Like Claire, she carries a giant paintbrush, a reminder of her role as a fairy of art and her boundless creativity. Her wings, similar to Claire's but with a carnation pink tint, seemed to flutter gently, ready to take flight at any moment.

The setting for the artwork is just as magical as the characters themselves. It takes place in a dreamy garden, a pastel paradise that looks like it’s straight out of a fairytale. The scene is bathed in soft, glowing light, giving everything an ethereal quality. Archways covered in blooming flowers frame the background, and a cobblestone pathway lined with roses leads into the distance. It feels like a place where creativity thrives, where every step you take could lead to a new idea or a burst of inspiration.

As I added the final touches, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. This artwork was more than just a digital painting; it was a celebration of friendship, creativity, and the magic of the holiday season. I hoped that when Claire and Faye saw it, they would feel the love and appreciation that went into every brushstroke. I saved the file with a satisfied smile and prepared to send it to them. This Christmas gift was not just a piece of art; it was a piece of my heart, a testament to the bond we shared. And as I hit the send button, I knew that this would be a Christmas they would never forget.

For me, Christmas has always been about more than just gifts; it’s about connection, about showing the people you care about how much they mean to you. And what better way to do that than through art? As I saved the final version of the piece, I felt a wave of joy and anticipation. I couldn’t wait to share it with Claire and Faye, to see their smiles and hear their thoughts. After all, isn’t that what Christmas is all about? Giving, sharing, and creating moments of magic together.

[constantfluxx]

FAREWELL WANDERLUST BY THE AMAZING DEVIL FOR THE TUNE CRUISE * SCREAMS *

HI I AM THE ONE WHO REQUESTED FAREWELL WANDERLUST AND FORGOT TO SPECIFY WHICH SHIP. OF COURSE. GERASKIER OR JASKIER POV WHATEVER REALLY, OK? THANKS. ILU.

🎶The Evening Earworm Tune Cruise: The SS 200🎶

Port of Call: Geraskier! 🐺👨‍🎤Itinerary: Farewell Wanderlust by The Amazing DevilCaptain: @kiomaya 🧜‍♀️

Farewell Wanderlust, you’ve been oh oh so kindYou brought me through this darkness but you left me here behindAnd so long to the person you begged me to be

He took in a deep, steadying breath. His fingers trembled around the neck of his lute. Eyes closed, he mentally coached himself, willing his nerves to settle at least long enough for his voice to sing true. It’s just another performance. How many times have you done this before? It’s no big deal.

Except he knew he was lying to himself.

This was hardly “just another performance.” Far from it. It took him forever to finally write a song sharing Geralt’s “defeat” of the dragon with the world. Even longer to perform it. And, when he finally did, it was… not his best work. One could hardly expect him to sing such a tale with such passion and intrigue when its epilogue was laced with a pain he couldn’t bring himself to bare. It was technically perfect, as his work of late usually was, but the emotion was missing. He was missing.

This song… This performance… This is where it had run off to. Where it’d been hiding ever since his return from that mountainside. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to finally recognize it as the problem - or perhaps he’d known all along, but refused to acknowledge it because it would reopen too many wounds, resurface too much hurt. Finally, the lacerations across his heart had begun to scar just enough for him to look, to examine, to embrace.

All that had happened… It was an indisputable part of him now, no matter how much pain it caused him, and would continue to cause him. He couldn’t move forward while leaving a part of him in the past - it was all or nothing, and he understood that now.

He doubted the unsuspecting townsfolk filling their bellies at the local tavern particularly cared to hear about his heartbreak. Songs of joy and adventure and triumph tended to draw far more coin than songs of misery and suffering and defeat. But this wasn’t for coin, not primarily anyhow. For this one song, this one performance, it wasn’t about the job.

It was bout reclaiming himself. About owning his life. About declaring his agony so irrefutably that he would have no choice but to recognize it as his own and finally, finally, start to address it head-on.

And wasn’t that a kind of personal victory, in its own, awful way?

He opened his eyes. He gazed out upon his feasting audience, upon their grumbling banter and stomping feet and clanking flagons. And he saw hair of white, and swords of silver, and eyes of yellow.

Delicate, flitting fingertips plucked away the beginning notes, deceptively light and whimsical. His voice followed in sweet accompaniment, painting the first syllable in a long, arcing embrace before twirling into its prancing opening measure.

“You look like I need a drink he winked as he slipped from my grasp to the barAnd you are?”

As he rounded out the opening lyrics, the catchy, playful tune drew those listening ears into a light nodding alongside his rhythm. Just as he’d once been distracted by Geralt’s splendor, so too were they taken by his light sing-song, and even as something more sinister began to sneak between his words they sooner suspected the start of some grand tale than the foreboding of tragedy.

Sooner just evidence of the Witcher’s social neglect than a pattern of distancing dissent.

“Every time that you fumble, I’m the laugh from the backWhen you think about him, my wings start to flapWhen you make a mistake, my feet lift from the floorAnd when you lie there awake every night love, I soar”

The notes were turning darker. The words weren’t turning towards a new tomorrow. Rather than circle back, they basked in their darkness, reveled in the furrowed brows and wary glances. His pace built, the ebb and flow of his song’s tide swirling into a tumultuous churning from shore to shore. Too late to swim to safety, the listening hearts searched for the sun - surely it was just around the corner, just after the next typhoon?

Surely, he’d come to his senses and warm up to the company?

“I’m the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shownAll those letters unsent and that garden ungrownI’m the captain of courage you’ve eternally lackedI’m the Jesus of wishing to Christ he’ll come back”

The wave crashed down upon them. Hope of survival glimmered in its wake, breaking free of the surface for a vital breath of precious air. A single ray of sunlight touched their faces… but it proved only to be the eye of a surmounting storm, one which raged more furiously than anything before it. It dragged them back down into his suffering, and like troublesome dogs their faces were forced to behold his wretched distress. But rather than recoil away from the filth, they stared, held in place by the voice that wrapped around their necks like nooses. They witnessed the unfolding of his wounded heart, the casting aside of the love that had poisoned it, and the thrashing of his despair in this pit he’d been left in.

How could someone so beautiful be capable of something so cruel?

“Come devil come, she sang, call out my nameLet’s take this outside cos we’re one and the sameOur god has abandoned us, left us, insteadTake up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead”

The notes of his lute had slowed once more, heavy and trudging. Where once had been whimsy now there rang spite: a lesson learned, and with it the reckless abandon of love’s unburdened prisoner. Only here, at the very depths of his sorrow, could all his emotion at last gather into a crude ladder he could use to pull himself out. Because Love had cast him down, he stood up. Because Love had said he couldn’t, he did. Because Love demanded he stay, broken and defeated, he threw Love away, put himself back together, and reached for something new.

He didn’t know what kind of life could possibly come after Geralt, but he knew, at least, that he’d rather search and know than never even look.

“Farewell Wanderlust, you’ve been oh oh so kindYou brought me through this darkness but you left me here behindAnd so long to the person you begged me to beHe’s down. He’s dead.Now take a long look at what you’ve done to me?”

It was hardly a happy resolution. It was ugly and gritty and tormented, but then what else could have ever come from this war? Nonetheless, as he led his audience into this final arch of their journey, his song blossomed into a kind of vindictive triumph, one that dared the world to try, just try and drag him back into the darkness. It would not, it must not, they collectively swore.

Perhaps, one day, Geralt would come back. It’d be splendid if he did - truly. For then, he could see the rotting carcass of the man Jaskier had to shed in order to forge himself anew. Then, maybe, he’d realize the sins he’d committed, recognize the way he’d sheared Jaskier’s heart to shreds and cast them off the mountainside.

But whether or not he ever did would no longer be a thing Jaskier concerned himself with.

“He’s down, He’s deadHe’s gone, He’s lostHe’s flown, He’s fledNow take a good long look at what you've all done to me”

As Jaskier declared his final words to the crowd, his fingers flew along the strings of his lute, releasing its last, swelling vibrato through the small tavern. The sound grew and grew, until at last it burst into an abrupt silence that swept in and suffocated what few lingering embers might still yet burn for the captivating Witcher.

For a suspenseful moment, not a soul dared disturb it, and even when the daily rumblings of the tavern began to creep back into place no one offered applause - such a thing just didn’t seem right after such an emotional experience as the one which had just unfolded all around them. Not even Jaskier himself offered any levity to the situation, trading his usual bow and playful quip for a simple nod of his head, more for himself than his audience. A small, silent affirmation of his deed, a thanks he afforded himself for finally releasing his pain to the winds of change.

He turned from them and retreated back to his sparse belongings, joining the rest in the tavern in a strange normalcy that pretended like nothing had ever happened. Not but a single soul challenged it, stepping towards him so quietly he hadn’t noticed them until a tiny, trembling finger touched the sleeve of his doublet. Startled, he turned to regard his visitor, a now-distant corner of his mind wondering if he’d find a calloused hand gloved in black.

Of course not. The touch had been too small, too flighty, too careful.

She stared up at him with a round, teary-eyed face, mouth hanging slightly ajar as she still searched for something to say. Studying him, seeing her own shaken state reflected in him, her brow furrowed, and in her eyes he saw an approaching understanding. At last, she murmured, taken with frightful awe, “That... was miserable... ?”

His eyes flickered down, catching the glint of a small trio of coins sequestered in her upturned palm. He knew well what her drifting, questioning inflection reached for, but he only smiled and shook his head, folding her fingers closed around her coin.

“Sometimes, my dear,” he whispered, voice still shuddering from lingering passion, “life is miserable.”

He paused. Chuckled. Hoisted his lute upon his shoulder by the strap of its case.

“And that’s okay.”

[rockislandadultreads]

Holiday Horrors: a reading list

Full list can be found here via Electric Literature

Sherlock Holmes & the Christmas Demon by James Lovegrove

It is 1890, and in the days before Christmas Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson are visited at Baker Street by a new client. Eve Allerthorpe - eldest daughter of a grand but somewhat eccentric Yorkshire-based dynasty - is greatly distressed, as she believes she is being haunted by a demonic Christmas spirit. Her late mother told her terrifying tales of the sinister Black Thurrick, and Eve is sure that she has seen the creature from her bedroom window. What is more, she has begun to receive mysterious parcels of birch twigs, the Black Thurrick's calling card... Eve stands to inherit a fortune if she is sound in mind, but it seems that something - or someone - is threatening her sanity. Holmes and Watson travel to the Allerthorpe family seat at Fellscar Keep to investigate, but soon discover that there is more to the case than at first appeared. There is another spirit haunting the family, and when a member of the household is found dead, the companions realise that no one is beyond suspicion.

Krampus: The Yule Lord by Brom

Santa Claus, my dear old friend, you are a thief, a traitor, a slanderer, a murderer, a liar, but worst of all you are a mockery of everything for which I stood. You have sung your last ho, ho, ho, for I am coming for your head. . . . I am coming to take back what is mine, to take back Yuletide . . . —from Krampus The author and artist of The Child Thief returns with a modern fabulist tale of Krampus, the Lord of Yule and the dark enemy of Santa Claus One Christmas Eve in a small hollow in Boone County, West Virginia, struggling songwriter Jesse Walker witnesses a strange spectacle: seven devilish figures chasing a man in a red suit toward a sleigh and eight reindeer. When the reindeer leap skyward, taking the sleigh, devil men, and Santa into the clouds, screams follow. Moments later, a large sack plummets back to earth, a magical sack that thrusts the down-on-his-luck singer into the clutches of the terrifying Yule Lord, Krampus. But the lines between good and evil become blurred as Jesse's new master reveals many dark secrets about the cherry-cheeked Santa Claus, including how half a millennium ago the jolly old saint imprisoned Krampus and usurped his magic. Now Santa's time is running short, for the Yule Lord is determined to have his retribution and reclaim Yuletide. If Jesse can survive this ancient feud, he might have the chance to redeem himself in his family's eyes, to save his own broken dreams, . . . and to help bring the magic of Yule to the impoverished folk of Boone County.

A Midnight Clear by Lindy Ryan (Editor)

Six stories of not-so-merry Yuletide whimsy from the authors of Black Spot Books. A woman so cold she hardens to ice on a winter's eve. Risen from his grave before his time, a winter god alters the balance between seasons. A wolf's holiday season is interrupted by a strange curse. From a murder at the Stanley Hotel to demons of Christmas past, present, and future, and a mad elf and Santa's Candy Court, the authors of Black Spot Books share their love for winter holidays in this collection of dark winter tales, destined to chill your bones and warm your heart for the Yuletide season.

Snowball by Gregory Bastianelli

A group of motorists become stranded on a lonely stretch of highway during a Christmas Eve blizzard and fight for survival against an unnatural force in the storm. The gathered survivors realize a tenuous connection among them means it may not be a coincidence that they all ended up on this highway. An attempt to seek help leads a few of the travelers to a house in the woods where a twisted toymaker with a mystical snow globe is hell bent on playing deadly games with a group of people just trying to get home for the holidays. Flame Tree Press is the new fiction imprint of Flame Tree Publishing. Launched in 2018 the list brings together brilliant new authors and the more established; the award winners, and exciting, original voices.

Hark! the Herald Angels Scream: An Anthology by Christopher Golden (Editor)

Eighteen stories of Christmas horror from bestselling, acclaimed authors including Scott Smith, Seanan McGuire, Josh Malerman, Michael Koryta, Sarah Pinborough, and many more. That there is darkness at the heart of the Yuletide season should not surprise. Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol is filled with scenes that are unsettling. Marley untying the bandage that holds his jaws together. The hideous children--Want and Ignorance--beneath the robe of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. The heavy ledgers Marley drags by his chains. In the finest versions of this story, the best parts are the terrifying parts. Bestselling author and editor Christopher Golden shares his love for Christmas horror stories with this anthology of all-new short fiction from some of the most talented and original writers of horror today.

Christmas Curiosities: Odd, Dark, and Forgotten Christmas by John Grossman

Oh, by gosh, by golly. It’s time for . . . rowdy bands of drunkards roaming the streets, lighting firecrackers, and firing off guns? Gangs of masked youths invading people’s houses, demanding food, drink, and money—and threatening to break the windows (or worse) unless they’re given what they want? Welcome to Christmas, circa 1800. Yes, the season of light, joy, and gift-giving was once regarded as a time of darkness, danger, and dissipation—and celebrated with all-too-public displays of noisemaking, inebriation, and gluttonous overeating. (Well, maybe not everything has changed.) And though we tend to imagine Victorian-era Christmases as sentimental gatherings around the candlelit tree, blazing hearth, and festive punchbowl, the 19th-century evidence tells us quite otherwise. Drawing from his extensive collection of antique postcards, greeting cards, advertising giveaways, and other ephemera, author John Grossman presents a picture of Christmas past that, frankly, looks a lot more like Halloween. Broomstick-riding witches and vampire bat–borne cupids deliver New Year’s greetings. Fur-clad fairies gather ’round a campfire to roast their Christmas dinner—a huge dead rat. And Saint Nicholas? He’s that skinny guy in the bishop robes who arrives with his dark companion, the Devil-like Krampus brandishing switches to punish the badly behaved. With Christmas Curiosities, STC wishes you a very merry, very scary Christmas.