#bird's eye maple

[chinesekleptocracy]

Family Room - Family Room

Inspiration for a sizable open-concept renovation of the family room with a music area and brown flooring.

[miyukinaru]

Closet Manchester Large trendy women's carpeted, gray floor and coffered ceiling dressing room photo with flat-panel cabinets and gray cabinets

[delight-hsia]

Family Room - Family Room Inspiration for a sizable open-concept renovation of the family room with a music area and brown flooring.

[greenwitchcrafts]

September 2024 Witch Guide

New Moon: September 2nd

First Quarter: September 11th

Full moon: September 17th

Last Quarter: September 24th

Sabbats: Mabon- September 22nd

September Harvest Moon

Also known as: Autumn Moon, Child Moon, Corn Harvest Moon, Falling Leaves Moon, Haligmonath, Leaves Turning Moon, Mating Moon, Moon of Brown Leaves, Moon When Dear Paw the Earth, Rutting Moon, Singing Moon, Wine Moon, Witumanoth & Yellow Leaf Moon

Element: Earth

Zodiac: Virgo & Libra

Nature spirts: Trooping Faeries

Deities: Brigid, Ceres, Chang-e, Demeter, Freya, Isis, Depths & Vesta

Animals: Jackal & snake

Birds: Ibis & sparrow

Trees: Bay, hawthorn, hazel & larch

Herbs: Copal, fennel, rye, skullcap, valerian, wheat & witch hazel

Flowers: Lily & narcissus

Scents: Bergamot, gardenia, mastic & storax

Stones: Bloodstone,carnelian, cat's eye, chrysolite, citrine, iolite, lapis lazuli, olivine, peridot, sapphire, spinel(blue), tourmaline(blue) & zircon

Colors: Browns, dark blue, Earth tones, green & yellow

Issues, intentions & powers: Confidence, the home, manifestation & protection

Energy: Balance of light & dark, cleaning & straightening of all kinds, dietary matters, employment, health, intellectual pursuits, prosperity, psychism, rest, spirituality, success & work environment

The full Moon that happens nearest to the fall equinox (September 22nd or 23rd) always takes on the name “Harvest Moon.” Unlike other full Moons, this full Moon rises at nearly the same time—around sunset—for several evenings in a row, giving farmers several extra evenings of moonlight & allowing them to finish their harvests before the frosts of fall arrive. 

• While September’s full Moon is usually known as the Harvest Moon, if October’s full Moon happens to occur closer to the equinox than September’s, it takes on the name “Harvest Moon” instead. In this case, September’s full Moon would be referred to as the Corn Moon.

This time of year—late summer into early fall—corresponds with the time of harvesting corn in much of the northern United States. For this reason, a number of Native American peoples traditionally used some variation of the name “Corn Moon” to refer to the Moon of either August or September. 

Mabon

Known as: Autumn Equinox, Cornucopia, Witch's Thanksgiving & Alban Elved

Season: Autumn

Element: Air

Symbols: Acorns, apples, autumn leaves, balance, berries, corn, cornucopia( Horn of Plenty), dried seeds, equality, gourds, grains, grapes, ivy, pine cones, pomegranates, vines, wheat, white roses & wine

Colors: Blue, brown, dark red, deep gold, gold, indigo, leaf green, maroon, orange, red, russet. Violet & yellow

Oils/Incense: Apple, apple blossom, benzoin, black pepper, hay/straw, myrrh, passion flower, patchouli, pine, red poppy & sage

Animals: Dog & Wolf

Birds: Goose, hawk, swallow & swan

Stones: Agate, amethyst, carnelian, lapis lazuli, sapphire, yellow Agate & yellow topaz

Food: Apples, blackberries, blackberry wine, breads, carrots, cider, corn, cornbread, grapes, heather wine, nuts, onions, pomegranates, potatoes, squash, vegetables, wheat & wine

Herbs/Plants: Benzoin, bramble, corn, ferns, grains, hops, ivy, milkweed, myrrh, sage sassafras, Salomon's seal, thistle, tobacco & wheat

Flowers:  Aster, heather, honeysuckle, marigold, mums, passion flower, rose

Trees: Aspen, cedar, cypress, hazel, locust, maple, myrtle oak & pine

Goddesses: Danu, Epona, Inanna, Ishtar, Modron, Morgan, The Morrigan, Muses, Pomona, Persephone, Sin, Sophia & Sura

Gods:  Bacchus, Dionysus, Dumuzi, Esus, The Green Man, Hermes, Mannanan, Thor & Thoth

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Accomplishment, agriculture, balance, goals, gratitude & grounding

Spellwork: Balance, harmony, protection, prosperity, security & self-confidence

Activities:

•Scatter offerings in a harvested fields & Offer libations to trees

• Decorate your home and/or altar space for fall

• Bake bread

• Perform a ritual to restore balance and harmony to your life

• Cleanse your home of negative energies

• Pick apples

• Collect fall themed things from nature like acorns, changing leaves, pine cones, ect)

• Have a dinner or feast with your family and/or friends

• Set intentions for the upcoming year

• Purge what is no longer serving you & commit to healthy changes

•Take a walk in the woods

• Enjoy a pumpkin spice latte

• Donate to your local food bank

• Gather dried herbs, plants, seeds & pods

• Learn something new

• Make wine

• Fill a cornucopia

• Brew an apple cinnamon simmer pot

• Create an outdoor Mabon altar

•Adorn burial sites with leaves, acorns, & pinecones to honor those who have passed over & visit their graves

The name Mabon comes from the Welsh/Brythonic God Mabon Ap Modron, who's name means "Divine/great Son", However,there is evidence that the name was adopted in the 1970s for the Autumn Equinox & has nothing to do with this celebration or this time of year.

• Though many cultures see the second harvest (after the first harvest Lughnasadh) & Equinox as a time for giving thanks before the name Mabon was given because this time of year is traditionally when farmers know how well their summer crops did & how well fed their animals have become. This determines whether you & your family would have enough food for the winter.That is why people used to give thanks around this time, thanks for their crops, animals & food

Some believe it celebrates the autumn equinox when Nature is preparing for the winter months. Night & day are of equal legth  & the God's energy & strength are nearly gone. The Goddess begins to mourn the loss she knows is coming, but knows he will return when he is reborn at Yule.

Related festivals:

• Sukkot- Is a Torah-commanded holiday celebrated for seven days, beginning on the 15th day of the month of Tishrei. It is one of the Three Pilgrimage Festivals on which Israelites were commanded to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem. Originally a harvest festival celebrating the autumn harvest, Sukkot’s modern observance is characterized by festive meals in a sukkah, a temporary wood-covered hut, celebrating the Exodus from Egypt.

• Mid-Autumn festival- September 17th

Is also known as the Moon Festival or Mooncake Festival. It is a traditional festival celebrated in Chinese culture, similar holidays are celebrated by other cultures in East & Southeast Asia. It is one of the most important holidays in Chinese culture; its popularity is on par with that of Chinese New Year. The history of the Mid-Autumn Festival dates back over 3,000 years.  On this day, it is believed that the Moon is at its brightest and fullest size, coinciding with harvest time in the middle of Autumn.

During the festival, lanterns of all size and shapes – which symbolize beacons that light people's path to prosperity & good fortune – are carried & displayed. Mooncakes, a rich pastry typically filled with sweet-bean, egg yolk, meat or lotus-seed paste, are traditionally eaten during this festival. The Mid-Autumn Festival is based on the legend of Chang'e, the Moon goddess in Chinese mythology.

• Thanksgiving- This is a secular holiday which is similar to the cell of Mabon; A day to give thanks for the food & blessings of the previous year. The American Thanksgiving is the last Thursday of November while the Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated in October

• The Oschophoria- Were a set of ancient Greek festival rites held in Athens during the month Pyanepsion (autumn) in honor of Dionysus. The festival may have had both agricultural and initiatory functions.

-Amidst much singing of special songs, two young men dressed in women's clothes would bear branches with grape-clusters attached from Dionysus to the sanctuary of Athena Skiras & a footrace followed in which select ephebes competed.

Ancient sources connect the festival and its rituals to the Athenian hero-king Theseus & specifically to his return from his Cretan adventure. According to that myth, the Cretan princess Ariadne, whom Theseus had abandoned on the island of Naxos while voyaging home, was rescued by an admiring Dionysus; thus the Oschophoria may have honored Ariadne as well. A section of the ancient calendar frieze incorporated into the Byzantine Panagia Gorgoepikoos church in Athens, corresponding to the month Pyanopsion (alternate spelling), has been identified as an illustration of this festival's procession.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[headspace-hotel]

so many of us haven't seen it

we don't encounter it, we can't imagine it, we can't get out of the tomb of apathy because we haven't seen the wonders just beyond their line of sight

I talk about this all the time, but it's because I think about it all the time

There are likely thousands of plants native to the area you live in, and chances are you have never even seen most of them, in your entire life.

Not even rare orchids that only bloom at midnight on a blood moon or some shit—regular flowers. Weeds. They have been systematically eliminated from every single place you ever set foot in, and you have to have a special hobby or line of work to ever even rest your eyes upon the flowers that used to bloom for no one on every hill, or in every valley, or beside every stream

There are a few hundred birds that live where I live. I have never seen most of them before. I have never seen a Kentucky Warbler, and I have lived in Kentucky for what...twenty years?

I have never seen a rosy maple moth. When I saw one on the internet, I didn't even think it was real.

I've become a deeply weird person over the past couple years. Tasting even a little bit of the Wonders changes you. I wouldn't have thought blue bees were real, or the fantastically rainbow-colored dogbane beetles.

I have seen the world beyond the wasteland, and that glimpse makes you crazy.

You or I may have never seen a truly mature tree. A fraction of a percent of the old growth forest of the Eastern USA remains. Once there were tulip poplars over 6 feet in diameter and sycamores well over 10 feet in diameter. Only a few remain, in secret locations. Imagine walking through a forest where the tree trunks are over 3-4 feet wide.

The forest where I work is 100 years old. That's a baby forest.

Knowing that, being aware of that, it's maddening.

Central Kentucky has disproportionately few endemic plants. Almost none. Central Kentucky was the first area west of the Appalachians settled by European colonizers. The Bluegrass was once described as having the most peculiar plant life anywhere in the East, but now, there are no species known that are unique to that area.

Colonization destroyed the canebrakes. (Did you know that we had vast forests of bamboo full of carnivorous plants?) The bamboo is barely hanging on. It destroyed the sycamores so enormous you could use the hollow center of one as a stable for animals. It introduced invasive grasses to feed cattle and horses. It destroyed the rich lush topsoil. Most of the ancient oaks were cut down or died when housing developments were built on top of their roots.

What happened to the endemic species, never recorded in books of herbs, never sketched by a European naturalist.

Either gone forever...or hiding in a sinkhole on a backroad somewhere, not even yet discovered.

So much has been lost for eternity. So much still could be lost.

Some days it's hard not to wail and scream. There are herbicides in your drinking water. When you spread honey on toast, you likely also spread neonicotinoid pesticides, which testing has confirmed to be present in something like 45% of honey. In many areas, insects are immersed in the presence of chemicals designed to kill them in every drop of water, every leaf, every square inch of soil.

When games, animations, and illustrations envision the outdoors, they cover the ground with a short, uniform carpet of green, because that is what we see, no matter where we go: turfgrass cut by a lawn mower. Where I live, there are no natural environments that resemble this, remotely. The closest thing we have to turf-forming grass is our wealth of native sedges, most of which are rare or endangered.

I talked to a man who had devoted his life to studying the American bamboo, Arundinaria gigantea, and he had never seen a canebrake larger than 200x500 feet. Canebrakes once covered ten million acres, and now the bamboo exists in short, straggly clumps instead of dense bamboo forests up to 40 feet tall.

I want to cry and scream. The grief will tear me to pieces. I live in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, surrounded by people who can't even grieve, because they have been so completely severed from everything that was lost that they don't even know it was real.

It hurts. It hurts, and we have to live with it. It hurts, and the grief is all-consuming.

There is the agony, and there are the Wonders. Both are true at the same time. It is because nothing around us is standing still; everything in nature is always moving, iterating, becoming. Something is pulling and nudging at our species, urging us to move, to iterate, to become.

So much has been lost. Even more is not lost.

The trees, the bamboo, the sedges, the Kentucky warblers and rosy maple moths.

They are not lost. We are lost.

This is the hard part. The grief is hard, but this is somehow harder for us. We are lost, and it is time to come home.

Not to a physical place, but to a way of living: interconnected, mutualistic, interdependent. Symbiosis. In the forest, no one is separate from anyone else, everyone is linked and dependent on the community. Trees help each other, they support each other, they protect and shelter and feed one another and all living things, and together they are a forest. I don't really consider myself religious, but I have to reserve something in my head for how it felt to realize what Forest was.

When I noticed the little plants popping up in the sidewalk cracks and gravel paths, the tough weeds holding on in the lawns and pavement, something in my brain began to change dramatically and permanently.

They're still here. The trees. Even in the pavement and lawns. The dandelions have come, adapting rapidly, helping the bees hold on. The wildflower seeds are still sprouting in this depleted ground. Waiting for us to recognize them. Life is everywhere. The Forest is everywhere. It felt like they were waiting. We're here. We have not abandoned you. We are resilience, persistence, survival, adaptation. This is not death. This is Chaos. Come home. Come home. Come home.

I saved little plants from the roadside and tended them in plastic cups. I didn't think it would work. I don't know why I tried. I was acting as something bigger than only myself, responding to a call that moves throughout all of nature. But they survived, and growing and tending to my little plants and trees, I—understood.

I don't know if I believe in God, but I believe in Something, whatever it was that seemed to whisper like a secret: Welcome home, Caretaker.

And honestly, truth shone through then from relics of religion I hadn't touched in ages; God put Adam in a garden, not a suburb, a mall, or a Walmart. This is who you are. Not a Consumer, but a Caretaker.

And when the threat of the Flood loomed, God told Noah to start building a fucking boat.

In ecology, the plants we know as "weeds" are pioneer species: the first species to return to an area after a natural disaster or mass extinction. They survive in the harshest conditions, and prepare the land for regeneration. This is who you must become.

Look to the Dandelion—in just a few hundred years on this continent, Dandelion has risen to the highest calling of a Weed: first survive where the others can't, and then help the others survive. If the human species is to survive, you must be a weed species. You must adapt relentlessly, resist eradication, and protect and nurture other life forms by your very nature. You must be tough as nails, and make the world a gentler place through your survival.

Have you heard the saying that grief is love with no place to go?

That's the hard part.

We must grieve, but it is not yet time to grieve. It is time to love.

[hellsitegenetics]

Well since you mention valentine's professions of love, I think it wouldn't be right if I didn't take this chance to extoll the virtues of moths. Firstly, they're adorable. Some of them are really fuzzy and have cute antennae. The rosy maple moth and the common silk moth are both very very cute. Secondly, (as this blog proves again and again) there are SO MANY of them in such a huge variety that you're bound to come across one that tickles your fancy! Take the Atlas Moth for example! It's got a wing span of nearly 25cm! That's like the size of a small bird! (You have no idea how much I want to pet a large moth species. Not the caterpillars though. Never touch random caterpillars. In fact, some moth caterpillars have hairs and stuff that you definitely do not want to touch due to them being poisonous.) Thirdly, moths are culturally and historically important! Silk has been a major industry for centuries upon centuries. The techniques of silk production and the actual moths themselves are the subject of myths in various cultures. They were once so jealously and secretively guarded that there are legends of how they came to be spread to different parts of Asia. I cannot stress how big of a deal silk was throughout the history of the world and how the trade of silk influenced international relations for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Oh and the thing is, common silk moths aren't the only silk-producing moth! There are several moths in the Saturniidae family that make cocoons of silk which are also used in modern, commercial silk production -- some of which don't result in the death of the chrysalid.

Look, I know whatever string of nucleotides this ramble produces will not end up matching the genetic sequence of a moth, because that's just how these things work but... I hope that people will look upon all the moths that do show up going forth with a fond and grateful eye because moths are truly magnificent creatures. Happy Valentine's Day!

String identified:

c t at' , t t 't gt 't ta t cac t t t t t. t, t' aa. t a a a a ct ata. T a t a t c t a t ct. c, (a t g aga a aga) t a A t c a g at tat ' t c ac tat tc ac! Ta t Ata t a! t' gt a g a a 25c! Tat' t a a ! ( a a c at t t a ag t c. t t cata tg. tc a cata. act, t cata a a a t tat t t at t tc t t g .) T, t a cta a tca tat! a a a t ct ct. T tc ct a t acta t t a t ct t a ct. T c a a ct ga tat t a g t ca t a t t at Aa. cat t g a a a tgt t t t a t ta c tata at , t ta a. a t tg , c t a't t -cg t! T a a t t ata a tat a cc c a a , cca ct -- c 't t t at t ca.

, at tg ct t a c t atcg t gtc c a t, ca tat' t t tg t… tat a t t tat gg t t a a gat ca t a t agct cat. a at' a!

Closest match: Parapoynx stratiotata genome assembly, chromosome: 8 Common name: Ringed China-mark

[vampiricgf]

Musings of a Fool in Love

leon kennedy x reader

wc: 1k+

warnings: none, sfw, just a sweet moment of both seriously and not seriously discussing marriage, thinking about what it means to exist in perpetuity with another person

I wanted to do something sweet especially after all the angst ive been inflicting on everyone <3 so here's a lil thing inspired by the old love songs I was listening to this morning. (i also didn't have a specific iteration of him in mind for this so it can be interpreted with whichever one you want) if there's mistakes I simply pretend i do not see lol

Soft chords of music fill the apartment, the last dregs of daylight washing you both in hues of honey gold and peach tinged pink, catching in his softly focused blue eyes like those novelty crystals that sit on their tiny, LED powered pedestals refracting the manmade light an infinite number of times. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, the hand lightly holding yours giving a gentle squeeze while the other remains restfully perched on your hip as you bodies move slowly with the melody. 

You don’t speak immediately, relishing in how he looks at this moment and contemplating dodging the question. It’s silly, nonsensical but just serious enough that it could shatter this dreamlike moment, leaving it as insubstantial as the last twinges of a dream that cling to the mind like a mist. But you decide against subterfuge, willing to risk cracking the tranquility apart. 

“I was thinking about what it would be like to get married.”

There’s no dramatic pause, he doesn’t bring your combined motion to a halt; that doesn’t stop his expression from changing although not into what you expected. Leon gives you a soft smile, hesitant, but seemingly chooses to indulge your line of thought.

“What about getting married?” His tone is hushed, like you’re two children whispering secrets and it makes you giggly, nervousness bubbling in your throat like a bird flapping it’s wings against it’s cage. 

“Just… What it would be like.” You shrug, shyness wrapping around your body like spectral hands. The wine you’d indulge in at dinner encouraging heat the spread lazily beneath your skin.

“What do you think it would be like?”

You could hold his gaze forever, you think. Maybe forever does exist that way: two people who live in one anothers faces, and you think again of those childhood crystals with their dazzling displays of endless light frozen inside. 

“Hm, something like this, I think.” 

“No specifics?” He teases you, extending the hand that holds yours to make room for you to lightly spin, laughing a little bit louder now. 

“You’d hate them,” You say through more glittering peels of laughter.

“Mm, try me.”

“I’m picturing something like a courthouse, nothing as imposing as a cathedral or a big church.”

“How romantic,” He gives you a faux roll of his eyes, still smiling. 

“Do you want a cathedral, a church?” You ask, genuinely curious now. 

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I guess all that would matter is that you’re there.”

“Now who’s the sappy romantic?” It’s your turn to tease him and he takes it in stride, drawing you in and placing a wet, exaggerated kiss on your cheek that makes you dissolve into yet more unbridled giggles. 

“And what else?” He encourages, the hand on your hip traveling to rest comfortably, solidly against your lower back. 

You pretend to eye him critically before continuing. “I could wear some gaudy dress shaped like a puff pastery.”

That makes him laugh, a full body, bone deep laugh, the kind that makes satisfaction ooze through your own form, warm and sticky as maple syrup and you can’t help but resume your own silvery laughter. The sounds of your mingled gasps for air against the rush of joy mixes with the song, a unique sound that is wholly, unequivocally yours. 

“You’d be the most beautiful puff pastry.”

And despite the absurdity of that sentence you can’t help the swell of adoration in your chest, can’t help but press kiss after kiss against his lips until you’ve both stopped moving, his eyes roaming your face in soft attentiveness as your fingertips brush against his jaw and the sound of music is drowned out by your mingled breaths. 

He brings your hand to his lips, leaving a trail of kisses so chaste, so sweet they make your teeth ache as he makes his way from your knuckles to your inner wrist. His breath fanning across your skin grips you in a sudden lightheadedness and your heart pounds so hard you think there’s no way he can’t also hear its reckless rhythm. 

“If I asked you right now, would you say yes?” 

And all is quiet. Gone is the overpowering sound of your heart, the soft twinkle of music, the sound of breath leaving body. The question hangs frozen, suspended in the air between you two like a single perfect, encapsulated snowflake. 

“I would always say yes to you,’’ Your voice breaks, just the tiniest fraction of a crack and he huffs out another low breath of laughter, pressing your wrist to his lips with more firmness, more intensity present than before. Slowly he lowers your arm, holding your hand once more and resting his forehead against yours, searching for something in your wide eyed gaze. 

The quiet that descends on you doesn’t do so as a threat, not with speed nor discomforting awkwardness. It’s the quiet of two lovers, content to rest in the moment with one another before moving to the next. 

“There’s no rush,” You whisper, your voice a tender, furtive thing not unlike a newly hatched little bird hesitantly peeking into the sunlight for the first time. 

And your words bleed out around the tiny little living room, like dye dropped into water, spreading and curling into even the farthest corners of your apartment as your eyes close and you tuck your neck against his chest, neither of you moving and it’s wholly possible that you could stay that way for an eternity, ivy growing thick and wild as it winds around your legs, drips down your fingertips, takes the place of your hair. 

Maybe eternity only exists in the fleetest, most foolish of moments. 

“You’re right. And it would be disappointing, getting proposed to with no ring.”

“You could give me one of those candy ones,” you say without moving from his chest and you feel more than hear the light chuckle it earns you.

“We’ve gotta work on your taste.”

“Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“I mean, look at your choice of man.”

At that you laugh again and the motion of your bodies resumes along with the music, in the lamplight glow of evening now, that perfect glimpse of eternity resting in the cradle of your memory. 

[pwlanier]

A sideboard in lacquered Brazilian rosewood, Madrona burl, santos, Honduran mahogany, figured macore, Macassar ebony, bird's eye sipo, discolored maple, Indian rosewood, bacote, ash burl, ash, walnut, American walnut burl, bubinga, louro faya, myrtle burl, teak, pin oak and brass by Johannes Hock in 2015.

Bonhams

[cheolism]

✧ UNDER THE SKIN

✧ werewolf!choi seungcheol x reader ✧ synopsis: walking through the autumn forest you know you're not alone. there's a predator after you. but can you really be considered his prey if you're more than willing to be caught? ✧ wc is approx. 4.6k ✧ tags: supernatural au, smut, slight horror? prey-and-predator roleplay except your boyfriend is literally a werewolf. ✧ warnings: minors do not interact. feelings of being watched/stalked, being watched/stalked; prey-and-predator dynamics, mentions of being eaten; power dynamics, strength kink, overstimulation. one mention of breeding. consent !! sex without a condom, sex in the forest; multiple rounds n multiple positions. mean!seungcheol, possessive!cheol. pet names (baby, princess, babygirl) ✧ part of the svthub fall-ing for you collab!! make sure to check out the other works!!!!

the silence of the forest tries to convince you that you are completely alone. 

it was as if the entire wood was holding its breath. no breeze filtered through the leaves; no birds flew overhead. it was just you and the trees. 

it was completely still and you appeared to be alone. 

but you know you’re not. 

you wrap your flannel tighter around your body, the autumn air biting gently at your flesh. it wasn’t so cold that you found it intolerable, wasn’t so cold that you were searching for warmth. instead you sought comfort from your flannel, as if the fabric could shield you from whatever lurked in the forest. 

because you weren’t alone. 

you know that. you know that just as you know night would be falling in a few hours, just as you know that the full silver moon would soon begin creeping into the sky. 

you weren’t ignorant enough presume you would be lucky enough to escape the notice of whatever lurked in the depths of the forest. 

so you walk through the forest, looking up at the trees. their foliage was far prettier than the dull brown of the shrubbery. the trees boasted their beautiful colors, shades of vivid crimson and deep gold; there was an amber leaf on the ground larger than your hand, and you wishes that you had your phone so you could take a picture. 

instead you contine to walk. 

deeper and deeper you walk into the forest. it’s quiet except for your movements. even when you pass a brook, its cold waters rushing over smoothed stones, its song seems muted. 

maybe it was because you are all too aware that you were being watched. 

you can’t see your stalker. but you could feel them. you could feel the weight of their eyes on your body, could feel how the hairs at the back of your neck were rising. 

turning around only meant that you would be walking directly into their path. and so you continue onwards, deeper and deeper. 

you wish your boyfriend was here. 

seungcheol isn’t extraordinarily brave; he isn’t necessarily a hero. he didn’t push you in front of him when the two of you dared to go into haunted houses during halloween but he still rushed through them, his hand clamped tightly around yours as he tried to find an exit. 

he isn’t a physical fighter either. but there is something about seungcheol’s presence that humbled those around him. from his broad stature to his thick brows, seungcheols’a aura just said that he wasn’t someone to mess with. 

but you know him beneath that exterior. his cute pouts, his boyish laughter and charm. his devotion to you. that was who you wanted at your side right now, walking through the forest with that feeling of being watched never leaving. 

it would be nice to even hold his hand, you think. to feel his warm. even if you just linked your pinkie through his you would be all right. 

you pause beneath a maple tree. it is large, its leaves a gradient that shift from bright yellow to a fiery orange. 

a bird sings overhead. and you listen. it stops quickly, and you watch as it breaks from the treeline to fly away, abandoning you to whomever watched you walk through the forest. 

seungcheol wouldn’t abandon you. he would keep watch over you while you rested, would grab your hand and reassure you before leading you back through the forest. 

you continue on your way. 

eventually you come across a river. it is wide enough to where you don’t dare to swim and you know better than to think that you could wade across. fallen tree leaves float along, and you wish for a fleeting moment that you could be a leaf and just float away. 

but you weren’t a leaf. 

you follow the river alongside its muddy edge, walking quickly so your shoes won’t sink too far. there’s a bridge ahead, it’s black metal vivid against the beautiful and serene autumn scene. 

there is a gravel path that leads to the bridge. as soon as you step onto it, rocks shifting beneath your feet, you hear something. 

you can’t be sure of what it is. you couldn’t really make anything out, the noise quiet and muffled. but you know there’s something out there. 

you go still. 

you hear a bush rustling behind you, hidden, and that’s all you need to continue onward. you go onto the bridge, reaching for the cold railing. you slide your fingers along its surface as you walk, its frigidness biting at your fingers. 

you are halfway when you feel it. your entire body freezes, heart hammering so loudly in your chest that it almost sounds like thunder. you can’t move. you imagine this was what your ancestors felt like when they came upon a saber-tooth tiger or some other sort of apex predator. you imagine them frozen with horror; paralyzed with it. 

“look at me baby.”

as if his words were a commandment given by a god, you are powerless to do anything but obey. you turn on the bridge. 

and he’s standing there. 

he is stocky with broad shoulders and hips. his hair is a mop of black waves. you can’t make out his features, but you knew him and knew there was a smirk playing on his dark cherry lips, knew that his lips were twinkling underneath his thick brows. 

“you’ve walked awfully far, princess,” he says. he steps onto the bridge entirely. you watch him the way prey watches their hunters; fearful and observant. “don’t you think it’s time to stop? time to give in?”

for another horrifying moment you can’t speak. pure horror freezes your entire being. you were right, you had been followed, had been stalked through the forest. you wish you had been wrong. 

you knew him, knew the danger that lurked underneath his skin. 

your thigh twitched from being held so tightly for so long. you became alive again. 

you make a step back. he takes several more towards you, walking casually, uncaring of your fear. you can only move a little compared to his broad, relaxed steps. 

he continues to talk as he moves towards you. “i thought you would’ve given up by now, baby. would’ve turned back to the car before now.”

“you --” your voice breaks. “you’re -- you leave me alone.”

“aw,” he says, now close enough that you can see his grin. “it’s cute that you think you’ve got any authority here, princess.”

it’s horrible the way that his words electrify you. they send shocks of fear and something you refuse to name through your system; make your entire being alive with something other than fear. 

he looks up to the sky. you can’t help but follow his gaze. the sun was sinking, the light blue of the sky making way for sweet pinks and soft oranges. 

“the full moon is tonight.” he puts his hands into his coat pockets, looking back at you and still grinning. the two of you are still too far apart for you to make the fine details of him, such as his eyelashes but you swear you can see his canines; see hos abnormally long they were and how they glinted in the light. 

“the sun’s going down.” he keeps his gaze on you as he continues across the bridge, his footfalls striking fear further into your heart. “looks like we’ve missed supper, princess. but don’t worry. i think i see something temping in front of me . . . “

“and i just can’t wait to eat you up.”

his words seem to get you back into motion. you turn on him and begun to run to the other side of the bridge, footsteps loud, every fiber in your being screaming at you to get away. 

get away, get away, get away from him, get away from that wolf. 

you can hear him running after you. you need to go quick, need to go faster. 

“come on princess!” he shouts. you try to pick up speed. you need to go and go and go, needed to find your way back to your car. need to get in and lock the door and go far far away. 

the wolf was going to get you. and he was going to devour you. 

“stop running babe!” you leave the gravel path behind, breaking into the treeline and into the forest. “I’m gonna get you! running will just prolong it!”

the trees blend, and your breath becomes harsher. your heart hammers in your chest. 

you can’t keep running. you can’t hide either, not with his superior sense of smell due to his nature. 

you conclude that you will have to try and fight when you feel something grab you. you’re yanked back and you can feel arms wrap around you before the combined momentum of his body hitting yours makes you strike the ground. 

you don’t land on the ground but on him. for a moment you are breathless, hands clenching at his flannel as you fight for breath. he’s not out of breath at all, and his thick eyebrows are high on his face as he watches you. 

“told you i’d catch you,” he says, smug. his eyes flicker over your face, drinking you in. “now you’re mine, princess.”

you push back against him, trying to tear yourself out of his arm, thick arms. he lets you go for a moment, letting you think that you can get away. then his arms are wrapping back around you, pushing. 

he traps you against the ground. you can hear leaves crinkling underneath your body as you lash out against the man, trying to push his body away. but he’s sturdy, his thick thighs framing yours and his hands pressing against your shoulders and keeping you down. 

“come on, baby,” he says, thick lips pushed into a pout. “stop fighting me. i’ve got you.”

you nearly have your breath when he begins to lower his face to yours. you can’t help but look at him, take in his striking features. the set of his eyes, the sweet brown of them. his smirk and how his lips are slightly cracked. 

his breath ghosts over your face as he takes you in. his lips hover over your cheeks; your temple. his body is warm and heavy on you, to the point where you can no longer feel the bitter autumn air. 

he moves his hand to your face. he presses his palm against your cheek, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip. he has you in the literal palm of his hand and you were helpless. all thoughts of fighting has left your system and you can’t help but bask in his presence now that he’s here. 

“see?” he is smirking. his thumb tugs at your mouth. his canines look awfully sharp. “all the fight’s left you, baby. you’re in my arms, where you belong.”

that sends the fight back into you. you wrinkle your face, hands releasing their grip on his flannel to push at him again. “fuck you!”

he laughs. “come on, princess. just a taste, babygirl. just a bite.”

he shifts on you, weight going to your thighs. he moves his face back to yours, lips skimming over the curve of your cheek and the line of your jaw. 

“just a bite,” he echoes. as soon as you feel his teeth against your skin you freeze, hand going back to his coat and twisting. 

it’s horrible, you think. horrible that you’re so eager for him. 

you tilt your head back, baring your neck. 

you can feel his smile against your throat. he bites at your neck weakly, without any real intent. you can’t help but whine. 

“see princess? you’re so eager for me, so willing.” his words send a flood of warmth through your body and you can feel it as they settle in your cunt, could feel the way your juices begin to wet your panties.

you whine something that sounds like a name. he exhales against your skin, one of his hands moving against your body. he moves his hand up underneath your shirt. you can’t help but jolt as your body is exposed to the chilled autumn air. 

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes. he presses his nose against your throat, breathing you in. his hands settles against your stomach, thumb swiping at your skin. “i’ll take good care of you, princess.”

it’s horrible, you think. your boyfriend is such a sweet man. he buys you more clothes and jewelry than you know what to do with, spoiling you relentlessly. he treats you as if you’re a princess. he loves you with every fiber of his being, loves your fiercely and treasures you more than any diamond. 

and here he is, body settled over yours. he stalked you through the forest, used his werewolf senses to track you down and make you feel like you were being hunted. he has you trapped beneath him, has you wishing so desperately he would just devour you. 

he was your kind, sweet boyfriend.

and here he is reminding you that underneath his skin he’s a predator. 

and you are his prey. 

seungcheol's hand moves further up your shirt as his mouth diligently works against your neck. he nibbles at your skin, alternating between biting gently and sucking. he's teasing you, you know; teasing you and making you nothing but putty beneath him.

"get off," you mumble, words quiet and body moving against him, trying to feel more and more of him. "leave me alone."

you can feel seungcheol grin against your skin. his fingers skim along the underside of your breast and through your bra, but you can feel the scrape of his nail against you. your mind focuses on the tingling sensation, and when he shifts on you again, his knee coming up and pressing against your cunt, you can't help but get truly desperate.

immediately you're flattening your cunt against his knee, rubbing against it through the layers of fabric.

he laughs at you. "see? i've barely even done anything to you and you're so desperate for me, princess. you could cum from just this, can't you?"

you shake your head in denial. seungcheol moves his hand over your breast, tracing your nipple through your bra. his begins sucking at your skin in favor, grinding his knee up against your cunt.

"cheol," you sob out, fingers grabbing at him. "need more."

"so much for pretending," he laughs. he pulls his face from your neck. "chasing you really got you all bothered, didn't it?"

"don't make fun of me!" you can't help but whine at him.

seungcheol chuckles again. he's grinning at you, eyes sparkling with affection. "what do you want to do? keep playing?"

you sniffle. "please."

his smile hardens into something more cunning. he takes out his hand from underneath your shirt, letting the cold air hit your stomach again. "hm? what's that, baby? want me to be the big bad wolf? want me to be mean and rough?"

you want it. horribly, you want it. the thought of your boyfriend, your big strong werewolf boyfriend, loosing himself.

"come on babygirl. use your words."

"please," you beg.

seungcheol laughs again. "fuck, princess. such a fucking slut, aren't you? so fucking desperate. you don't care what's going on as long as i'm fucking you."

"just want you," you agree. and you did. you wanted seungcheol so fucking much. wanted him, his strong hands pressing you against the forest floor, his fat cock fucking into your cunt. you wanted him in a way you never wanted anything else, a way completely foreign to except for when you were with choi seungcheol.

"cute." seungcheol moves off of you just enough so he could begin working at your pants. he pops the button of your jeans quickly, pulling your jeans off just as fast. you can't even despair at the cold air before he's moving his body back over yours.

"can't believe you ran from me." he pushes his knee back up to your cunt. now that your jeans were out of the way you could feel him better, could feel the scratch of his jeans against your cunt and through your panties better.

and it feels so fucking good. grinding your cunt down on his knee, using him. it sends sparks to your gut and cunt, and your hips move on their own, searching.

"ran from me and here you are, fucking yourself on my knee." seungcheol lowers his face back to yours, lips skimming over your cheek. he doesn't kiss you. normally his lips are constantly against yours, devouring your mouth. but he keeps his mouth away from yours, and it does something to your mind to know that your boyfriend, the man who would give you the world, won't give you this one thing.

"my hands are cold, baby," he says. seungcheol moves his hand back along your chest, letting his fingers skim over you. "guess i'll just have to use you to get warmed up."

you shake your head, trying to remember the plot. "nnn -- no -- pervert --"

but then you grab his hand and push it down. seungcheol slips his hand into your panties, finding your cunt and molding his hand against it naturally.

"fuck, princess," he sighs, lashes fluttering. "cunt's so fucking warm. gonna feel so good milking my cock."

your cunt tightens at his words, wishing it was his cock. he grins, mouth to your neck. he mouths at your neck, kissing sloppily while his hand slowly moves at your pussy.

he works his hand against you, fingers slow. he draws his fingers against your cunt and clit over and over and over, playing your pussy through your panties languidly; as if you were in the comfort of your bed and not on the forest floor, bodies surrounded by fallen autumn leaves.

seungcheol works you to orgasm slowly. satisfaction escapes you -- you want more. you want him fucking you, want him rough against you.

but seungcheol refuses. he bites and licks at your neck, marking you. he maneuvers his fingers so his thumb is pressing flat against your clit through the fabric of your underwear. he focuses on your clit, dragging his thumb over it.

and you hate it.

his hand at your cunt has you whining, hips bucking up and begging for more. your panties are soaked through, warm from the heat of your pussy. you can't feel him the way you want to, can't feel all of him the way you so desperately need.

"need," you rasp out. one of your hands moves to the forest ground beside you, grabbing. leaves crinkle in your grasp. "more, please. more, need more, cheol."

seungcheol removes his hand from your cunt. you whine high at the back of your throat. you wanted more, didn't want him to take his hand away completely.

"such a little slut for me," he laughs. he moves back, sitting. seungcheol grabs your panties in both hands and pulls. your underwear is ripped, and he tosses them aside. "all i had to do was get you beneath me, huh? just had to show some dominance and you're nothing but an eager little slut."

"not," you protest. his hands smooth over your thighs and then he's pushing them apart. "not a slut."

"no?" he moves his hand along your skin, fingernails dragging and sending sparks through you. "then what would you call it, princess? running from me only to give up as soon as i get my hands on you?"

"you're mean."

seungcheol raises a thick brow. he doesn't disagree. his hand finds your cunt naturally. two of his thick fingers hook into your pussy just as quickly, familiar with your body.

"i'm mean?" he slowly feeds his fingers into you, sliding them until you've taken their entire length. you can't help but let your eyes roll back, mouth parting in a wordless moan. his fingers were always so thick, stretching out your cunt and making it burn in the most delightful way.

"i'm mean and yet here i am, fucking your little cunt with my fingers on the forest floor."

"you're not," you argue, voice tight. "you're just sitting there. not moving them, just fucking using my -- my --"

he grins. "your what, princess?"

you refuse to say it, twisting your fingers against the leaves on either side of you. the autumn air bites at your skin but you can't care, can't care when seungcheol's body is framing you and his thick fingers are up your pussy.

"say it." with one hand in your cunt he uses the other to push back his hair, showing off how he has one eyebrow cocked. "gotta use your words, baby. or i'll just leave you here. make you walk all the way to your car with no panties, cunt wanting more."

you whine. "i -- cheol."

he hums, shifting. the movement has his fingers sliding, just slightly, in your pussy. it's just enough to remind you of how desperate you are.

"please," you beg, "please cheol. i want -- i want you to fuck me, want you to fuck -- fuck my pussy."

seungcheol laughs, and then he's pulling his fingers from your pussy. you don't have a chance to miss his fingers before he's shoving them back in. he isn't gentle, and he's fucking your cunt with his fingers the way he would use his cock.

the pain of being opened isn't pain so much as it is that pleasure-pain that you crave. the sort that you seek out after a long day. it's the sort that has you moaning and letting your legs fall all the way open, allowing seungcheol to move closer.

you could cum like this.

but then seungcheol moves his hand from your pussy entirely. you groan, hips still moving up in hopes of him sinking his hand back into your pussy. you want, you want and want and want and here he was, depriving you, turning you into this wanton creature.

seungcheol then works at his jeans and all the protests vanish. you watch hungrily as he discards his jeans and underwear.

his dick makes you drool as soon as you see it. thick and long and pretty. he wraps his hand around it, rubbing at the head. you can't help but watch, greedy, as a white pearl of cum begins to bead at its tip.

"want it?" he asks despite knowing you do. "should make you beg, shouldn't i? make you beg for my cock."

you open your mouth to do just that but then he's on you. seungcheol's large hands are on your body, moving you, manipulating you. he flips you onto your front, moving you to rest on your knees. you can feel him press his cock against your ass, and, like a slut, you push back against him, hoping he'd fuck into you.

seungcheol does. he fucks into your cunt, shoving his dick into your pussy and mounting you like an animal. as if you were both animals. he allows your pussy to adjust for just a moment, just long enough for you to grab at the ground and bury your face against the cold dirt.

and then seungcheol's fucking you. he rams his cock into your pussy, relentless. the angle due to the position has you drooling, has you biting your lips and moaning.

"take it," he commands, hands grabbing at your hips. he holds you still, making you take his cock. "running from me like you're not mine, like you're not mine to fuck. like your cunt isn't mine, princess, like you're warm little pussy isn't mine to fuck and breed and your body isn't mine."

and seungcheol fucks you like you're his. fucks you like you're his and nobody else's, like he owns you, owns you just to fuck you.

you could nearly cum like that.

but he doesn't let you.

because choi seungcheol looks like a cute, doting boyfriend. but underneath underneath that he's a mean, greedy wolf that wants.

seungcheol draws out of you, the slide of his dick making your toes curl. he manipulates you again, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting. he uses his strength to bring snap his dick into your pussy over and over, relentless in his search.

"fucking princess," he growls. and then his fingers are back to your cunt, sliding against your wet pussy and finding your clit. he matches his pace with how he rubs at your clit, and soon enough he's bringing an orgasm that comes crashing through your body.

he doesn't stop there of course. seungcheol continues fucking you. he rams into your pussy, shoving his fat dick into your warm pussy.

"mine," he says, voice low in the back of his throat. seungcheol ducks his head, pushing you back to the ground and covering your body with his. you can see his canines, long and white, glinting; can see the ring of golden that had begun to grow around his pupils.

"yours," you agree.

you quickly become oversensitive. each thrust in and out has you whining, has you wiggling in his grasp. seungcheol doesn't care. you don't protest and so he continues, fucking into you.

you orgasm again. seungcheol grins, teeth sharp. "that's it," he says. "milk my cock, pretty girl."

he's moving you again. you're light underneath his hands, his strength allowing him to move you however. he's moving you back onto your front, one arm looping around your middle to keep your ass pressed against him and his cock sheathed deep in your pussy.

but it's not satisfying. not to him.

and so he moves again. he pushes you, his hand between the blades of your back and keeping you still. each slap of his hips against you leaves a sting, but it's so delicious you can't, and don't want to, do anything other than take it.

in this new position he seems to find what he was searching for. seungcheol growls, something that sounds more animal than human. he rams into you, cock striking your core with each thrust, harsh and strong and rough.

you know you're making loud, obnoxious whines. but you can't stop. not when he's fucking you like he wants to breed you, when he's fucking you like this.

"fuckin' running from me," he hisses, "running like you're not mine. i've got you, princess. fucking got you."

when seungcheol cums he's filling you to the brim. he's painting the inside of you white with his spunk, marking you. when he pulls out he's still hard, and he takes himself in hand. seungcheol fucks into his fist as he looks at you, eyes roaming over your body as you lay against the forest floor.

when he spills again it's on your bare ass, marking you on the outside. you don't think he'll ever stop cumming. eventually, however, he does.

seungcheol drapes himself over you, ignoring the mess. he pants into your ear, arms wrapping around your body and holding you.

you don't know how long the two of you lay on the ground. the front of your body, the part pressed against the dirt, is cold. everywhere seungcheol touches is warm, and when he finally goes to pull away you whine, not wanting to loose his touch.

in the end seungcheol carries you back to the car. he holds you like you weigh nothing. you can see the gold begin to eclipse the brown of his eyes, and when he speaks its in a rasp.

he tucks you into the car, pulling the blankets around your body. seungcheol presses kisses to your face, lingering, not wanting to leave.

when he finally does move from you he's at the edge of transformation. he can barely speak, sweat beginning to dot his hairline.

but seungcheol darts forward for one more kiss despite this, clingy and wanting. because despite the werewolf exterior, despite the fact that he is, by all appearances he is a monster, seungcheol, under his skin, yours.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 9

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You don’t go straight home. You don’t want to upset your mom. So, you wander the suburbs, walking around cul-de-sacs, some you’ve never been down, and circling around the avenues. You pass mothers and fathers with strollers and children running and yelling on green lawns. It’s as if you’re walking through a utopia, floating by like a cursed wraith. 

You glance down at the book in your hand. Maybe you should try some lighter reading. Your mind tends to go to dark places. 

When at last you let yourself go back to the house, you do so cautiously. You don’t see Steve or your mom. As you come to the front door, you wonder if you should knock. You quietly let yourself in, gently closing the door as you stand on the mat. You leave your shoes on the low rack and tiptoe down the hall. Your mom can’t be mad if she doesn’t know you’re there. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Steve’s voice as you tripping over your own feet. You turn to the archway as you pass and peer in. Your mother’s in her recliner, her eyes closed. Is she sleeping? You watch her warily. “How was your walk?” 

“Um,” you blink and shrug, “fine.” 

He stands by the window, his hand on the wall beside it. Did he see you come up? You hadn’t noticed him behind the curtain. 

“Breakfast for you in the oven. Won’t be very warm but if it’s no good, I can start a new batch,” he offers. 

“Don’t bother with all that,” your mother grumbles and shifts in her chair, groaning as she shakily rubs her cheek. Her eyes open only slightly. “She can warm ‘em up.” 

“Always better fresh,” Steve stands straight and faces you fully. 

“Thanks.” 

You leave them with the single word. You feel like an intruder. You stop by your bedroom and hover in indecision. You just want to hide but you would hate to be rude. Steve went to all that trouble and you know, even as your mother says he’s already done too much, she’d be even more upset if you wasted his effort. 

You put your book on the foot of your bed and go down to the kitchen. You take out the pancakes, content enough to have them cold. There’s a bottle of real maple syrup. Steve must’ve supplied that; you can’t afford the pure stuff. You don’t use very much, mindful of the expense of the sugary nectar. 

You grab cutlery and bring the plate to the table. You sit alone. You can hear the hum of the ceiling fan from the front room and the dulcet song of birds floating in through the windows. Steve’s low tone rolls through the din but you can’t make out his words. You mother answers his with short mutters. She’s not having a very good day. You're surprised he stayed this long. 

The pancakes are good, even at room temperature. They’re fluffy and taste richer than the frozen ones you get a bargain on. Is that blueberry too? With each bite, your hunger clenches your stomach tighter, mulching down the food greedily. When you finish, your body growls and aches. 

You wash off your plate and put it in the tray. The lull of the house thickens as you pad down to your room. You slow as you near the door frame. Had you closed it? You can’t recall. 

You turn into the room and let out a noise of surprise. Steve looks over as he stands over the folding table, his hand on your sketchbook, a page half-turned. Your heart drops as you clasp your hands together. 

“Sorry, er, didn’t mean to...” he rescinds his hand and lets the page flutter down, “It was open and...” you don’t know whether he means the door or the book. “You’re really talented.” 

Your forehead crinkles and you charge towards him. You step around him and shut the book, swiping it up. He leans back on his heel. 

“I didn’t... I wasn’t trying to...” he sputters, “I just wanted to pass something by you.” 

You hug your sketchbook at you face him. You stare at this chest. You feel violated. Not just that he’s in your space but he touched your stuff. The one thing that’s really yours; your drawings. 

“Me and your mom were talking, you know, and she said it would be good for you to get out, maybe make some extra money,” he explains, “and I’ll be around so you won’t need to worry about her so much.” 

You frown. You and your mother have had this talk a billion times. Get off your ass and get a job. It’s not like you haven’t tried. 

“So, I got some work you can do. Like I said, I gotta get that pool open,” he continues, “and there’s little things around the house. You got a good hand so maybe some painting here and there.” 

You push your shoulders up. You don’t think you can say no, especially if he’s already said as much to your mom. You half-suspect this is her doing. 

“Complementary milkshakes?” He offers breezily. 

You’re quiet. You have no choice. You know as much. 

“You know,” he softens his tone, “if I’m gonna... hang around with your mom, we should get to know each other. It’s a good opportunity for us.” 

“Fine,” you answer. 

“Fine? So that’s a yes?” He asks. 

You close your eyes and flick them open, “yes.” 

“Great. Well, when can you start? How about tomorrow? Supposed to be another sunny day.” 

“Okay,” you agree, “tomorrow.” 

He doesn’t move. You want him to leave. The conversation is over. He got what he wants and your mom too. He’ll pay you dimes to clean the pool and your mom will reap the profit. 

“You know, I draw a little too,” he points to your sketchbook, “maybe if we have time tomorrow, I can show you.” 

“Maybe,” you mutter. 

“Ah, uh,” he chuckles bashfully and rubs his neck, “right, I'm in your way. Well, er, I’ll leave ya be.” He turns and struts to the door. He stops just inside the frame and looks back, “oh, how were the pancakes?” 

You take a breath and stay staring at the wall, “good.” 

“Great, did you have some of the syrup? It’s Canadian.” 

“Yeah,” you turn and tuck your sketchbook into your dresser draw. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, sweetie,” he taps the wall and the door closes with a click. 

You sit on your bed and hunch over to hold your head. It’s still heavy from the night before and now you’re even more tired than before. You don’t know if it’s from being out in the sun or all the walking you did, but your eyelids feel dry and seem to cling with each blink. You yawn and bring your legs up, curling your body up near the edge of the bed. 

You know you shouldn’t sleep in the middle of the day, but you just can’t help yourself. 

🏠

You wake up in the haze of the late afternoon. Your eyes hurt and your limbs are achy. You lay on your back as the curtains stir with the lazy breeze. You look over to find them open but you don’t remember pulling them apart. You barely remember anything past your awkward morning stroll. 

It takes you a while to push through the stiffness. You never sleep on your back; it leaves it racked and your ribcage hurts. As you stand, you notice the door. It’s slightly open. 

You get up and go to it, pull it inch by inch. The house is quiet but for a soft rumble, rhythmic and rocky. You putter down the hall and look into the front room. Your mom’s asleep in her chair. She’s almost peaceful as she snores in the recliner. 

The scene strikes you as odd, almost dreamlike. Your mom’s never been much of a napper. In fact, she always nagged you about the habit. You think of waking her but think better of it. She won’t be happy to be awoken, even if she might be irritated later to know she slept away the day. 

Steve is gone. You search each room to be sure then go to the kitchen. It’s clean and everything is put away, even the dishes you left in the tray. The large bottle of syrup is gone as well. 

You mutter and go back to your room. Another soft wind drifts in. You stumble over to your bed and fall back onto it. You yawn again. Gosh, you’re so tired. 

[archived-daydreams]

— First love, late spring.

Summary: what does it feel like, to fall in love with them?

Characters: Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Gepard, Kafka, Bronya, Serval, Asta x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 1.2 k.

Tags: fluff.

Author’s note: my debut writing for Honkai Star Rail ! I know Jing Yuan hasn’t been released yet, so his part is just personal interpretation; all in all, these are just some sort of little headcanons I wanted to try imagining and writing down, I hope you enjoy <3

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

JING YUAN

Falling in love with the Cloud Knight general feels like returning to a home you still hadn’t realized how much you’d longed for.

His calm presence draws you in, a melodious and crackling hearth beckoning you forward in shades of gold and skies at sundown. To stand beside him could be compared to entering a secret forest, where the moon rises as she kisses the dipping sun on the cheek as they meet at dusk. Birds chirp happily, as if revealing the songs your heart likes to play when you are with Jing Yuan, the heat in your cheeks, a manifestation of the firework embers lighting up the starry twilight. The general puts his arm around your shoulders, bringing your form closer to his, fluffy argent hair tickling the side of your neck.

You lean into him, the sunset looks a little brighter when your lover’s lips graze your temple.

And when his big calloused hand intertwines its fingers with yours, you know with him, anywhere is paradise.

DAN HENG

Scarlet maple forests feel more magical underneath the stars.

In the same way, pieces of every story and memory that constitute the wielder of Cloud-Piercer take form before your eyes as you make your way starwards.

Not one for many words or idle conversation, Dan Heng shows you the emotions he conceals to the public in small actions, starlit fragments only the one who dares to rummage between the layers of crimson leaves will uncover. Shielding you from unexpected enemies, helping you up and down the platform of the express, throwing a blanket over your shoulders when you inevitably pass out on the couch after running around with March… And when, still halfway into your realm of dreams, you call his name, a keen eye may spot on the express gurad’s cheeks some of the carmine usually adrift in the breeze in the autumn months.

Then again, if could be just your sleepy imagination…

Perhaps. is the lingering “what if” echoing on your mind.

GEPARD

The steady rock amidst a tumultuous ocean, relentless waves colliding against its silvery surface, time and time again.

Yet the rock does not yield.

Much in the same way the captain of the Silvermane Guards is your white-hot anchor in the blizzard.

No matter how hurt you are, Gepard stays.

No matter how drained and wasted your last breakup left you, his strong arms embrace you, the biting gales futile against his hold.

And maybe, taking notice of your own (and his) feelings might take you a while.

But Gepard Landau’s heart only knows loyalty.

So he waits.

For you to realize, for the sun to finally shine, and mark the path from you to him.

Because argent tends to reflect the skies, and only when the morning star deigns to shine, can the cobblestones tying you together gleam.

You take a step, and you know Gepard Landau is your only destination.

KAFKA

Exhilarating and with “danger” spelled in boldened capitals, that is how romance with the Stellaron’s Hunter feels.

The rational part of you warned you this was a bad idea, yet, as they say, sometimes, the heart wants what it wants.

Freedom prevailed that night, and your lips met the Interastral Peace Corporation’s most wanted’s.

It could have been the drinks you had, against your better judgment, the sweet intoxication of the alcohol in your system and of the temptation of her, a ticking bomb combination.

But caution is thrown to the wind the moment Kafka wraps her priced coat around your shoulders, her lips sensually whispering in your ear, promises of a million idyllic tomorrows together already tangling in the messy yarn ball of your mind.

But who are you to refuse? Or how could anyone, for that matter? When her painted lips envelop yours under the infinity of the firmament?

BRONYA

Dignified, smart, and the picture perfect image of what a heir should be like.

However, what is hidden beyond that icy facade of flawless poise?

Your sweet lover, a girl who enjoys the sound of tranquil nights and hurried steps by morning, someone who lets herself daydream to the faint music coming from Golden Theater.

A beautiful and enchanting contradiction, a storm of opposites you can’t help but get lost in, from the pretty curls of her lucent hair, to her determined gunmetal gaze.

Who would have thought, you think with a tender smile, as your hands run through her steel moonlit tresses, that you’d get to win the heart of the Heir to the Supreme Guardian of Belebog?

Leaving a soft kiss to the crown of her head, you lay down beside her in bed. With a last look out the window at the slate sky, you close your eyes.

The lyrics to a ballad swirl in your mind, probably coming from Golden Theater.

In the dim light, you find your girlfriend’s hand.

That night, Bronya Rand would be the actress in your oneiric plane, her heart, yours alone.

SERVAL

Electrifying and magnetizing, akin to a violet horizon right before a storm. The thunder in the distance makes your every hair stand on end, yet you can’t help longing for something more.

Afternoons helping Serval out at Neverwinter Workshop always end with you sitting before her, wide smile aglow on your features as she picks up her electric guitar. You always loved the way her sapphire eyes sparkled when she talked about this or that new song she was composing, but actually getting to see her perform for you alone… that’s enough to get you giddy.

Her painted nails strum the cords with ease, each of them bending at the workshop owner’s will, as lightning seems to take command of your heart, its thundering pace and the melody she plays seamlessly dancing to the beat of a fervent tango.

As the sky throws its indigo shawl over the lovers, the blonde gazes at you, a pretty (and unusual) rosy tone on her cheeks, a silent inquire for your thoughts about her new piece.

After all, you’re always the first one to hear every new song she comes up with.

ASTA

The girl who used to dream of naming stars after herself finally found a star that will always orbit around the fiery sun she is.

Her crystalline eyes look up from the papers she was sorting out until moments ago, her lips curving up in a crescent not unlike the one she used to observe, when she spots you.

Two cups of coffee in hand, you sit beside her, your head leaning on her shoulder. Your hand catches hers over the table, prompting her to stop the frantic scribbling of her pen.

And the instant her opalescent gaze meets yours, she is breathless, a nebula the color of her hair spreading through her cheeks. Her pen falls out of her grasp, the words she never seems at a loss for, failing her.

As they do every time when it comes to you.

But who could blame her? When she’d trade every galaxy and celestial body in this universe and the next for a millisecond next to you?

The lead researcher of Herta Space Station closes her notepad.

For now, work can wait.

[paimonial-rage]

cocky bastard vibes - zhongli

ship: zhongli x reader

synopsis: in which reader shares their free thoughts on the liyue statue of seven

notes: standalone snippet part of the bookkeeping!verse

It was a beautiful day in Liyue. The grass was a luscious green and the birds were singing a beautiful song. After a nice stay at the Emerald Maple Inn, you and Mr. Zhongli decided to have a cup of tea next to the Statue of the Seven before heading on your way to Qingce Village. You were to accompany him to pick up supplies for the next funeral rite, and with the way the morning was going, you knew nothing would ruin this peaceful day.

"So how much do you want to bet that Rex Lapis was hot and knew it?”

You ignored the choked sound that came from your side as you gazed up at the picturesque statue. Though your companion would probably consider your question quite out of the blue, you couldn’t say it was the first time you wondered such a thing. Whenever you passed by one of them in Liyue, the thought always plagued your mind for a few hours after. Judging by Mr. Zhongli’s reaction, though, it seemed he did not share your sentiments.

"Ehem… That… certainly is an interesting thought. I can’t say whether or not previous records touched on such a topic."

You hummed, gazing up at the statue. Really? That couldn’t be true. Why wouldn’t anyone talk about a statue looking like that?

“Well there are many reasons why I’d say I’m right. First off, his outfit. He has a hooded cloak on while also being shirtless. There’s absolutely no logical reason to dress like that unless they’re from the deserts of Sumeru, wouldn’t you say? It obviously was a conscious fashion decision. If you pair that with the seductive way he’s sitting, I’d be inclined to assume he’s quite clearly feeling his look.”

Silence came from your side. Hm, Mr. Zhongli still wasn’t convinced? Then you would go on.

“You do see it, right? His posture is relaxed, yet confident. Not to mention the way he’s looking at that cube in his hand with practically bedroom eyes. His knees are apart too. My friend from Sumeru told me that when a man sits like that, he’s displaying his dominance.”

Still silence.

"You can't sit in a seductive pose like that without on some level being aware you look good doing it. I mean look at him! He's shirtless and everything! I've heard even macho fishermen say that they pray to the statue for a good night before coming home to see their wives. You can’t blame them, right?"

A hesitant cough.

"I-I'm sure it was a younger time when those statues were sculpted."

You groaned.

"Maybe, but you’re not even looking! If you did, you’d agree with me that Rex Lapis is clearly exuding such massive 'cocky bastard' vibes!" You countered.

For some reason, the more you spoke, the more flustered he became.

"C'mon, Mr. Zhongli! Why are you so embarrassed? It's not like I'm slandering his good name! I mean, if Rex Lapis didn't want us talking about him like this, maybe he shouldn't have made a statue with abs clean enough to eat off of!"

Okay, maybe at this point, you were piling it on a bit thick. Could anyone blame you? His face was in his hand as if he had a headache, and were his ears tinged the slightest hint of red? It was an interesting sight. Never had you seen him look so completely flustered. Sure you were rather blunt, but you didn't think your words were that provocative. Mr. Zhongli really was practically a 65 year old man.

"I thought you respected the Geo Archon…" He muttered weakly.

You gasped in offense.

"I do! I’d even consider my words the utmost of pious behavior. In Mondstadt, the sisters of the church consider themselves married to Barbatos, the Anemo Archon. So finding the Geo Archon to be a sex god is pretty much the same thing, right?”

“No, it is not.”

[specialagentartemis]

Citizen Science and Contributing To Scientific Endeavor When You're Not "A Scientist"

Comments on some of my posts about science and misinformation express frustration with scientific establishments, and want to see more accessibility and attention given to amateurs participating in the scientific process and having their scientific voices heard.

If being involved in the creation of knowledge and discovery is something important to you, that's something I strongly encourage! It's absolutely possible. Amateur researchers with a passion and an eye for detail have made some fantastic discoveries - but what is often glossed over in stories like these are the years of work, the patient dedication, and the collaboration with university researchers that often underlie such discoveries.

The search for truth and information and the passion for science is present in a lot of people who aren't official "scientists" - curiosity is natural! And if participation in scientific observation, hypothesizing, experimentation, and discovering new things about the world is important to you, there are lots of ways to go about contributing - and the new year is a great time to start.

What are you interested in?

Ecology

Observing the world around you is for everybody. Getting invested in the environment of your hometown is for everybody. And, as the Mythbusters famously said,

Some ideas for a local ecology project:

Record the temperature outside every day at the same time - at sunrise, or noon, or sunset, or midnight. Depending on where you are, the local weather recording station may be miles away or on top of a mountain - measure the temperature yourself and compare it each day to what your app says. When is it accurate? When isn't it?

Record the weather every day. How much precipitation? What time of day? What kind?

Record what animals you see every day, where, when, and how many. Or choose a specific animal, like birds, or bees on flowers, or turtles or frogs in a local pond, or whiptail lizards vs. invasive house geckos, and record the numbers you see each day.

Record when in the year you see the first, or last, of a plant or animal. When the crocuses sprout, when the buds appear on the maple trees, when you see the first clover flowers or prickly pear flowers, when the first robin comes out or the first lizards come out of hibernation.

If you have an outdoor cat or a free-roaming dog, attach a GoPro or similar small camera to its collar to see where it goes and what it does.

Identify the plants growing in your neighborhood, and check in on it regularly to keep track of how each one fares in different weather conditions, or if any animals particularly like or don't like to eat it.

Bulk order some test strips, then take a small sample of soil from a local park or water from a local waterway each weekend and test them for PH, lead, chemicals, or whatever. See if it changes over the year, or after a heavy rainfall, or during drought.

Take a photo of the same spot every day for a year.

Linguistics

The study of how people use language! Everybody uses language in some capacity.

Do you have any small children near you? Talk to them! Record how they pronounce things and what they call new (or even familiar) concepts. Look for patterns.

Ask people you know if "dog" and "blog" rhyme, or if "Alohop" is a good pun for a pineapple beer. My family gets ENDLESS amounts of mileage out of this one with each other. Ask people you know questions about how they pronounce things, or what they call things. Make maps of dialectical differences between generations, neighborhoods, etc. Track linguistic shifts in the modern world.

History

Everyone and everywhere has a history, and accurate history is pressingly relevant always.

See if you have a local historical society, library archive, or history museum that is looking for volunteers to transcribe or translate collections.

Get elbow-deep in local archives. You likely have some sort of local archive near you that has not been fully digitized. Go in with a topic you want to learn about - Black families, Jewish communities, how your hometown transferred from Indigenous hands to settler ones, women who owned their own businesses, immigration, inter-racial relationships, sports, ice harvesting, farming practices, contemporary opinions on a major world history event that now seems so inevitable, sports and people's reactions to sports - and read everything in newspapers, wills, deeds, photographs, or other available records about your topic of choice. See if you can find connections that you haven't seen anyone else talking about.

These are just some things that occur to me immediately as something that anyone can do, if you're sufficiently interested in a question and want to discover more about it. The more local your topic, the less likely anyone has a solid answer to whatever you're wondering - and the more immediately relevant to the people around you your discoveries may be!

Combining it with a New Year's Resolution can also get you more motivated to do the things you want to do. Is your resolution to get more exercise? Take a brisk walk each morning and take a picture of the same area every day for a year. Take a walk every weekend down to the lake and count the turtles and frogs you see. Is your resolution to keep a daily diary For Real This Time? If nothing else, resolve to write down the weather and precipitation each day! Do you want to volunteer more or meet new people? Look for citizen science or local history groups! Feeling like you're working toward something Real is a great motivator.

Henry David Thoreau's detailed descriptions of the nature each day around Walden Pond in the 1840s provides a valuable benchmark for modern ecologists to compare environmental and climatic changes since then on a granular level. Silly rhyming poems and idiosyncratic spellings in letters and diaries help linguists track dialectical and pronunciation changes across time. Amateur science is great and valuable! We all can have a part in understanding and paying deeper attention to the world around us, if we want to.

[honeykaes]

heart's loyalty

pairing: kazuha x femme!reader II 2.7k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, heavy angst, use of she/her pronouns and descriptions of afab!reader, based on feudal japan, arranged-marriage with scaramouche, reader is a foreigner, exhibitionism, public sex, praising, body-worship, fingering, creampie, character death, cheater!reader, can be read as yandere!scaramouche, unedited

synopsis: kazuha never thought that when he was assigned to protect daimyo kunikuzuishi’s wife his loyalty would shift from the shogun to you and when you asked to run away with him, he couldn’t deny you.

Early fall was one of Kazuha’s favorite times of the year. The heat from the summer was beginning to drift away as leaves would slowly float down from his favorite maple trees. He loved the garden in the small manor of the daimyo’s wife as it captured his favorite scene perfectly.

As he turned the corner of the manor, he saw your form. You were sitting on a large rock next to the tall maple tree, giving you shade. A solemn gaze had taken up your face as maple leafs slowly drifted down around you. You revealed your hands from the sleeves of your ornate yukata, picking at a small loaf of bread you threw a yard away towards the koi pond.

His autumn-tinted eyes softened, heart warming at the side of seeing you, yet a small sadness clawed at his heart seeing you so depressed. He couldn’t fault your emotions as if he was trapped in a loveless marriage, he couldn’t smile all the time either.

You were a foreigner picked to be the wife of Daimyo Kunikuzushi by the Shogunate, Raiden Ei. She wanted access to your country's military and weaponry that came from the West as a deterrent from anyone who sought to challenge her power. Therefore, you became a sacrificial pawn to a game of chess you had no means of playing, let alone winning.

He remembered the night you first came to the estate as he walked the quiet halls before hearing your sobs coming from the other side of the sliding door. He was merely randomly assigned to be your personal guard by the daimyo for his skills in sword fighting but his lack of heart to actually fight in conflicts unless necessary. 

When he slid the door open, seeing your shocked and tearful face turn in shock that night, he struggled to come up with the words to even greet your depressed form, not knowing what he could say to stop you from crying. He merely walked up and bowed, getting to his knees and lifted his head down, vowing both to you and to his heart to try to give you a better experience of the many years you had awaiting in the country of Inazuma.

As Kazuha walked closer to your form in the garden, your eyes flickered to him—light returning in your dull gaze. He sat besides you on the rock, looking up at the rings of light that managed to escape the maple leaves before placing his pale, calloused hand on yours and weaving his fingers.

A bond between the wife of the daimyo and the samurai guarded to protect her happened gradually but remained strong, leaving both of them longing to be with one another openly. But, when daimyo Kunikuzushi left to return to his larger mansion or to visit the Shogun, it was him that got to warm your bed every night, joined together in a secret but passionate union.

Kazuha was thankful that hardly any workers were at this estate before a small number. Here, they were free to pretend they were together. 

But it was only pretend; a reminder Kazuha so sadly acknowledged whenever the Daimyo would return to break that fantasy.

Kazuha felt you squeeze his hand tighter as he turned his head to your form. You stared out to the koi pond, watching the fish swim in circles in the small patch.

“My bird…you know the one I have in my room right?” you asked in a low voice. Kazuha nodded as you sighed, throwing another small chunk of bread to the pond. 

“..I let it fly free from its cage. When I went to feed it today, it was looking out to the sky. How could I not? A bird isn’t meant for a golden cage” you mumbled. You loved that bird with every fiber of your being, Kazuha knew letting go was harder for you than you let on. Kazuha lifted his intertwined hands with yours to his mouth, offering a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“...I’d go with you in case you decide to follow that bird and leave your cage,” Kazuha replied. You briefly smile before lips curling downwards into a frown, throwing the remainder of the bread in the pond.

“No, you couldn’t Kazuha. Your loyalty was pledged to Shogunate Ei and Daimyo Kunikuzushi. You’d end up getting killed for treason if you decided to escape with you,” you whispered. Kazuha let his hand go from yours, bringing it up to caress your cheek. His thumb brushed against the skin, feeling the warmth from your cheeks.

“I am only loyal to those in my heart,” he murmured, closing the gap between you as his lips graciously captured your own. Your bodies eventually got closer as the samurai's hand refused to part from your cheek. You whispered out his name, wrapped your hands around his neck to kiss him deeper.

You gasped feeling his hips buck and grind at your thigh, parting his lips with heavy breaths.

“We can’t do this here…in the garden. Someone could see—” Kazuha briefly silenced you with his lips before leaning out, trailing his lips along your neck.

“I dismissed everyone to go to their courtier. Only you and me remain in this garden,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe. You softly chuckled before leaning in to kiss the samurai once more as his hands began to paw at your clothed thighs. His hands snuck past the fabric of your yukata and their hadajuban, cupping their cunt eliciting a breathless sigh from you. His lips continued pecking along your neck, so delicate and quick as if a butterfly was landing on them.

Kazuha finger brushed against your clit as jolts of pleasure wavered throughout your body. You ground your core against his hand, desperate to get more friction from the pad of his thumb. He pressed against the bundle of nerves, offering quick circles to it. You whined once more, shifting from his touch.

“Always so lovely and soft for me, my lady,” he murmured, voice muffled as he pressed his mouth against your nape. Your arousal was beginning to drool out of your hole, coating his finger that was toying with your clit with the essence. As his ministrations went faster, two fingers prodded at your entrances—teetering back and forth—before finally allowing them to sink into your cunt. 

As you moaned out his name, you quickly covered your mouth, muffling the soft moans Kazuha so desperately wanted to hear from you. Your walls fluttered against his fingers slowly plunging themselves deeper inside of you. He soon curled them up as he pumped them, your body jolting as he finally found what he was looking for.

Your walls clamped down pulsating against his fingers curling and moving themselves inside of you to massage that spot. Your hips gyrated and grinded, nub from your clit beginning to slightly burn in pleasure.

“That’s right, my dove. Just let yourself fall into the pleasure,” he whispered deep in your ear as his free hand made way to your clothed breast. He gave it a squeeze, moaning lowly himself as if he could perfectly visualize the pair out as he did before. He shifted in his seat, rubbing his thighs together as his cock pressed firmly against the thin fabric of his fundoshi.

His tongue darted from his lips, planting a long stride against your neck, tasting the salty sweet mixture of your sweat and lotions on the skin. His mouth settled against your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps to sprout throughout your body.

“Please don’t deprive me of your beautiful voice, dove. I need to hear how I am making you feel,” he moaned, lifting his hand away from your breast to the hand covering your mouth. As he gently moved it away, the corners of his lips curled in delight hearing the soft groans elicited from his fingering continuously pumping themselves inside of you.

“Kazuha..ha! I’m gonna…please! I’m gonna…!” you moaned out, voice beginning to rise in tone from Kazuha’s pace increasing. He quickly leaned forward, capturing your lips once more as you finally reached your high shivering in his touch, hips grinded against his hand.

As he leaned away, Kazuha’s gaze was half-lidded and darkened in lust. Both of your lips are glossy with a translucent string of saliva connected to the pair. His gaze softened once more, admiring your afterglow of your climax.

“You make me feel so drunk as if I was a fool. How easy you tempt me, my dove…” he whispered, sliding his fingers out of your cunt as you whined. His hands snaked through the fabrics once more, revealing the coated digits.

“Perhaps, I should have waited to have you in your chambers. You always taste so divine,” he hummed to himself, pressing his fingers against his mouth. His tongue curled around his fingers coated in your slick, cleaning them before rubbing the excess saliva against his yukata.

“As sweet as always but alas, I don’t think I can wait anymore,” Kazuha groaned. You soon found yourself up on your feet, pinned against the base of the tree as Kazuha’s eyes drank in your disheveled form. 

Kazuha quickly disrobed, pulling his trousers and fundoshi off and exposing his cock against the cool early fall breeze. His haori decorated in maple leaves fell along the gravel of the garden as well, leaving him completely bare as his cock lulled against his toned, pale lower stomach.

He tenderly wrapped his hand around his length before letting out a breath sigh, slowly jerking it as his cock pulsated in his grasp. His base soon shined in precum, now coated on his head that budded from his flushed tip. Kazuha’s gaze rises to yours curling his lips into an amused, and slightly mischievous smile, witnessing your eyes avoiding to look down at his length.

“This isn’t the first time I've had you like this. There’s no need to be embarrassed, although you are rarely cute like this, my dove,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek. You gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling his heavy cock rest against your thigh.

“I-I know that! But we’re outside…,” you whined. Kazuha chuckled, kissing the other side of your cheek.

“Just as our ancestors before us and the animals that roam along these vary lands. There’s no need to be embarrassed, I promise it is just us here and no watchful eyes except my own,” he reassured. You shyly nod as Kazuha’s hand made its way to loosen the obi and grabbed onto the fabric of your kimono, revealing your breasts to him.

He leaned in once more, pressing a kiss against the valley of your breasts before lifting your leg to his hip, exposing your drooling cunt to his gaze. The tip of his cock nudged against your sensitive clit as you whined once more, gliding along your slit as he struggled to find your entrance. With a soft grunt, he finally finds it allowing him to finally sink into your warmth. His pace was slow and deliberate, grinding his pelvis against your entrance.  

You moaning out his name was his favorite melody as you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to plunge deeper inside of you. The soft noises of nature around you were eventually drowned out by the snapping noises of skin coming to contact with one another and your breathless sighs of pleasure. 

It was overwhelming, feeling your walls desperate to pull him in deeper and fluttered against his sensitive cock. His other hand found it way to your covered ass, squeezing it tightly to push your bodies closer to one another.

“I always find myself spellbound and so captivated by your ethereal form…forgive me for losing myself, my dove,” he moaned, pressing his face against your nape. His pace soon grew faster.

“I will always be yours, no matter what,” Kazuha grunted, strokes becoming faster. Your body bounced at his relentless pace as weaker branches begin to shake and tremble from his pace. Kazuha’s blunt nails dug into the plush skin of your thighs futility trying to sink deeper inside of you, muffled whimpers of your name escaping from his lips. Snapping his eyes shut, Kazuha reached his peak as thick ropes of cum shot inside of you. His hips bucked—weakly thrusting—as he slowly came down, leaving a kiss on the nape of your neck.

“Ah…how could I let myself become undone before you…” he softly chuckled, lifting his hand away from the globe of your ass to toy with your throbbing clit to cease your whines. You squirmed in his grip, grinded against his cock still nestled deep inside of you plugging the cum that was threatening to leak out. He grinded his hips, feeling your walls slowly caved down, pressing tighter circles against your clit

“That’s it…you’re almost there…just a little more dove,” Kazuha hummed, flicking your overstimulated clit rapidly. Your back arched, leg shivering in pleasure as you finally reached your high. Kazuha peppered kisses against your nape.

“There you go…such a good, little dove,” he cooed. 

“Kadehara.”

Your eyes softened as you placed your hands against his flushed cheeks.

“Kaedehara Kazuha.”

Kazuha snapped his eyes open, looking down at the gravel—the pain of the rocks pressed against his legs kneeling down. His eyes felt heavy, skin much sweeter than usual as a pure white kimono clung onto him uncomfortably. When he went to move his arms, the tight rope burned against his wrist as they stayed in place bound behind him.

He finally leaned his head up, observing his surroundings. Familiar faces of his comrades were sat around a courtyard, varying faces of disgust, disappointment and anger on their faces.

“...You will be executed for treason against the Shogun,” a woman called out, with a decree in her hands. There his name was, written in kanji, penned by the all-powerful Raiden Ei,

“Ah.. that was right,” Kazuha slowly whispered to himself. He buried himself in a dream to forget the nightmare that was his reality.

He remembered that day, as your bodies were still joined together, you gently clasped his face and pleaded that you needed to run away, to be with him and happy. Just as he pledged before, Kazuha happily complied, cleaning the two of you before packing a small rations and cash to get on the next boat leaving Liyue.

He thought, together, they could make it. He was skilled enough to fight off against ronin or his old comrades.

What he didn’t expect was the skilled power Daimyo Kunikuzushi had. Kazuha knew him to always have others do his dirty work. It only took a half a day for him to find you two with ten men at his side. The servants must have reported the pair or he arrived at your manor earlier than you thought—you weren’t sure how and why he was able to know where you two were headed.

Pinned down against six samurai, all Kazuha could do was reach out to your crying and screaming form, desperately reaching out for his hand. It was as if the world had slowed watching your form slowly disappear from his sight as he was rushed to be arrested.

He knew you would be physically alright, but you’d be put into a smaller cage and under a more watchful eye by the Daimyo.

Him, however…

Kazuha’s eyes drifted up, feeling the weight of a hateful gaze glare down at him. Kunikuzushi stood behind him, a katana by his side.

One man he knew to be Heizou, solemnly got up from his seated position, walking over and behind him, covering Kazuha’s eyes with a white cloth. Kazuha sensed Heizou left to return back to his position—the samurai’s eyes waiting in hesitant anticipation for his death.

Hearing a katana unsheathe from its hilt, the corners of Kazuha’s mouth lifted into a smile before closing his eyes. His mind conjured your image once more; how he wished he could see your smiling face one more time. He’d sadly have to leave you lonely for now.

“Do you have any last words,” Daimyo Kunikuzushi seethed out. Kazuha could feel the twisted smile on the daimyo’s face, relishing that he was about to die by his hand.

”I followed her to this life and I will follow her to the next.”

[greenwitchcrafts]

June 2024 witch guide

Full moon: June 21st

New moon: June 6th

Sabbats: Litha/Summer Solstice- June 20th

June Strawberry Moon

Known as: Aerra Litha, Birth Moon, Blooming Moon, Brachmanoth, Dyad Moon, Egg Laying Moon, Green Corn Moon, Hatching Moon, Hoer Moon, Honey Moon, Lovers Moon, Mead Moon, Moon of Horses, Moon of Making Fat, Partner Moon, Rose Moon & Strong Sun Moon

Element: Earth

Zodiac: Gemini & Cancer

Nature spirits: Sylphs & Zephyrs

Deities: Aine of Knockaine, Bendis, Cerridwen, Green Man, Ishtar, Isis, Neith & Persephone

Animals: Butterfly, frog, monkey & toad

Birds: Peacock & wren

Trees: Maple & Oak

Herbs: Dog grass, meadowsweet, moss, mugwort, parsley, skullcap & vervain

Flowers: Lavender, orchid, tansy & yarrow

Scents: Lavender & lily of the valley

Stones:  Agate, Alexandrite, cat's eye, chrysoberyl, emerald, fluorite, garnet, moonstone, ruby & topaz

Colors: Gold, green, orange & yellow

Energy:  Abundance, balance, change of residence, communication, decision making, education, family relations, full & restful energy, love, marriage, prosperity, positive transformation, prevention, protection, public relations, relationships, responsibility, strength, tides turning, travel & writing

While strawberries certainly are a reddish-pink color and are roundish in shape, the origin of the name “Strawberry Moon” has nothing to do with the Moon’s hue or appearance.

• June's full Moon is typically the last full moon of spring or the first of summer. The June Full Moon will be extraordinary. For the first time since 1985, Full Moon happens precisely on the summer solstice, when the Sun is highest up. Because the Full Moon is always opposite the Sun, this year, you will see that the Moon is 10 widths lower on the horizon than the Sun ever is. 

This “Strawberry Moon” name has been used by Native American Algonquian tribes that live in the northeastern United States as well as the Ojibwe, Dakota, and Lakota peoples to mark the ripening of “June-bearing” strawberries that are ready to be gathered. The Haida term Berries Ripen Moon reflects this as well. As flowers bloom and early fruit ripens, June is a time of great abundance for many.

Litha

Known as: Alban Heruin, Summer Solstice & Whit Sunday

Season: Summer

Element: Fire

Symbols: Besom, fairies, God's eyes, sunflowers & symbols of the sun

Colors: Blue, gold, green, orange, red, tan & yellow

Oils/Incense: Cinnamon, frankincense, heliotrope, lavender, lemon, lily of the valley, mint, musk, myrrh, orange, orange pine, pine, rose, saffron, sandalwood & wisteria

Animals: Cattle, crab, horse & octopus

Birds: Goldfinch, kingfisher, meadowlark, owl, robin & wren

Mythical: Fairies

Stones: Bloodstone, diamond, emerald, jade, lapis lazuli & tiger's eye

Food: Ale, bread, cheese, edible flowers, garden fresh vegetables & fruit, lemons, meade, milk, oranges, pumpernickel bread, summer squash & wine

Herbs/Plants: Anise, basil, betony, cinquefoil, copal, elder, fennel, fern, frankincense, galangal, hemp, ivy, larkspur, lemon, lemon balm, mistletoe, mugwort, mullien, nettle, orange, orpin, plantain, rue, saffron, sandalwood, St.John's wort, thyme, verbena, vervain, wild thyme & ylang-ylang

Flowers: Carnation, chamomile, daisy, heather, heliotrope, honeysuckle, lavender, lily, marigold, orchid, rose, wisteria & yarrow

Trees: Elder, holly, laurel, linden, oak & pine

Goddesses: Amaterasu, Aine, Anahita, Dea, Cerde, Dag, Dana, Eiru, Fenne, Gwydion, Kupala, Mabd, Phoebe, Skhmet & Sul

Gods: Apollo, Baal, Balder, Bel, The Dagda, Donnus, El, The Green Man, Helios, Huon, Jupiter, Llew, Loki, Lugh, Maui, Mithras, Oak/Holly King, Ogmios, Ra, Surya, Thor & Zeus

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Agriculture, changes, divination, ending, fertility, life, light, manifestation, power, purpose, strength, success & unity

Spellwork: Fire & water magick

Activities:

• Charge and cleanse your crystals in the solstice sun

• Make Sun water

• Create crafts with natural elements such as flowers

• Burn a paper with things that no longer serve you or that you are trying to let go

•  Invite friends & family over for a bonfire and/or feast

• Gather & dry herbs for the upcoming year

• Clean, decorate & cleanse your altar with summer symbols

• Brew some sun tea

• Take a ritual bath/shower with flowers

• Make your own sun dial

• Craft a door wreath out of flowers & herbs

• Enjoy some sunrise/sunset yoga

• Volunteer at a food kitchen or animal shelter

• Plant trees (especially ones that may provide fruit or berries to feed the wildlife)

• Watch the sunset & say a blessing to nature

• Make flower infused anointing/spell oils

• Eat fresh fruits & berries

• Participate in a handfasting

• Create shadow art

The history of Litha reveals its deep connections to ancient agricultural societies & their reliance on the sun's power. Celebrated as part of the Wheel of the Year, Litha symbolizes the balance between light & darkness. Throughout history  customs such as bonfires, herb gathering & the construction of sunwheels have marked this festival. Today, Litha continues to be celebrated by various communities, with gatherings at sacred sites & private rituals in natural settings. It serves as a reminder of our connection with nature and the cycles of life.

• The traditions of Litha appear to be borrowed from many cultures. Most ancient cultures celebrated the summer solstice in some way such as the Celts celebrated Litha with hilltop bonfires & dancing. Many people attempted to jump over or through the bonfires for good luck. Other European traditions included setting large wheels on fire & rolling them down a hill into a body of water.

Litha is often associated with Midsummer, a celebration that extends beyond the pagan and Wiccan traditions. Midsummer festivities are observed in many cultures around the world, including Scandinavian countries where it holds a prominent place in their cultural heritage. Midsummer dances, bonfires, & feasts are integral parts of these celebrations, often accompanied by folklore and traditional rituals that honor the sun's energy and the abundance of nature during this time.

The summer solstice is the longest day of the year & in some traditions, Litha is when The Sun(The God) is symbolically at it's peak time of power & the World will soon be ripe to harvest. It is also when The Goddess is pregnant with The God who is to be reborn at Yule.

• In the Northern Hemisphere the Summer Solstice occurs when the Sun reaches its highest and northernmost points in the sky. It marks the start of summer in the northern half of the globe. (In contrast, the June solstice in the Southern Hemisphere is when the Sun is at its lowest point in the sky, marking the start of winter.)

Some also believe the history & spirit of Litha revolve around two deities, The Oak King & The Holly King. In Wiccan and Neo-Pagan traditions, each King rules the Earth for half of the year. From Yule to Litha, the Oak King rules. On Litha, the two battled for the crown and it is then that the Holly King triumphs. The Holly King will rule through fall until Yule, and the cycle will begin again.

Related festivals:

• Vestalia- June 7th -15th

Was a Roman religious festival in honor of Vesta, the goddess of the hearth & the burning continuation of the sacred fire of Rome. It was held from 7–15 June & was reserved as a women's-only event. Domestic & family life in general were represented by the festival of the goddess of the house & of the spirits of the storechamber — Vesta & the Penates .

On the first day of festivities the penus Vestae (sanctum sanctorum of the temple of Vesta which was usually curtained off) was opened for the only time during the year, at which women offered sacrifices. As long as the curtain remained open, mothers could come, barefoot and disheveled, to leave offerings to the goddess in exchange for a blessing to them and their family.

For the last day, the penus Vestae was solemnly closed, the Flaminica Dialis observed mourning & the temple was subjected to a purification called stercoratio: the filth was swept from the temple and carried next by the route called clivus Capitolinus and then into the Tiber.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[headspace-hotel]

today I sat on some twisted roots at the edge of a pond. you know when you sit on the roots of a tree and somehow it exactly fits your body more ergonomically than any chair devised by the human mind? that means you are supposed to sit there a while. So I did.

I found the pond in the woods a while back. I don't think hardly anyone knows about it. When I found the pond it was frozen with blue-green ice and there was snow on the ground but now it's all thawed out and little streams and rivulets run into it from the abundant rains. There is mud everywhere so your boots go SPLICK-SPLICK-SPLICK as you walk along the streams, but the water itself is cold clear water with dead leaves of winter drifting around, lapping at the silty banks where the mud became deposited.

Where the biggest stream reaches the pond there is a nice deep pool, a piscine antechamber to the main pond, with the strong roots of a tree separating it from the bigger expanse of water. I watched the little riffles billowing up silently from the turbulence beneath the surface.

If you are silent and still in the woods, the birds will slowly resume going about their daily business, and you will realize what a metropolis of bird activity the treetops are. Three titmice arrived and hopped about amidst the thickets of holly, maple and beech, going up and down the trunks and pecking at leaves. A male and female cardinal (husband and wife, I thought...how romantic for valentine's day) rustled in the leaf litter near the bank. Woodpeckers started rattling their beaks on standing deadwood, and a particularly clear, musical birdsong rang out for a while, over and over. It seemed really familiar, but I couldn't think what it was.

One of the titmice landed on a small tree some ten meters away from me, and I thought he must be unaware of me, but then he flew even closer, landing on the branch of a sapling not even five meters away. He fixed me so sharply with one flashing black eye and then the other (as if each of his eyes, positioned on the sides of his head as they were, needed at least one good look apiece) that I felt his intelligence and curiosity. "Hello there Titmouse," I said, out loud; the bird was unbothered to hear me speak, and just continued investigating me with his bright little gaze for a few more seconds before flying away.