#isle of glimmer

[creative-author]

sᴘᴀʀᴋs, ɢʟɪᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ғʟᴀᴍᴇs

A low fantasy story and one of my current WIPs. I write it in German but I think about posting bits in English here.

What is it about?

Well first, let me tell you a bit about the world.

Magic users are sorted into three categories: sparks (people who can use magic affecting their body only), glimmer (people who can only use magic affecting their environment) and flames (people who have both abilities)

25 years before the story takes place, the kingdom was ... broken. Many tried to take the throne or eliminate the king and his wife. They managed to get control again and over night, three islands appeared not far away from the kingdom. Seen as a symbol of a higher good, everyone connected to the enemy got send there to build themselves a live again. The first few years, the kingdom helped them get resources, but after a many tried to break free, the Queen and other flames banned magic from there and gave up their help.

Now, almost 25 years later, the high prince of the kingdom, Floyan, should be crowned. He asked his aunt to tell him about his future and after her vision, he invites two kids of each banned isle in the castle.

This is, where we meet Corella or rather Lia, captain of the Miststorm II. Her mother reigns one Isle but Lia has very little contact to her. Until the invitation. Her mother tries once again to break free but fails. Lia and her first mate Ryee (both grown up on the isles, in the misery and more than once almost died, not only because magic is banned (they never knew magic, so the don't miss it) but food is rare) get to travel to the kingdom.

Lia wants to help the isle. She has seen so much pain and even tried to help as captain, causing many young people being part of the crew just to get them away from hunger and abuse. She knows her Crew will be fine without her, as she tries to talk to Floyan.

Well, the don't see the urgency and after numerous events, where she has to dance suspiciously often with Floyan, the king tells Lia and Ryee, that their ship was crashed in a storm.

Overwhelmed by the emotions, the magic in Lia, the magic she never knew she had, bursts free and it's save to say, that the royal garden will need a while to heal again. Thanks to Ryee, she doesn't crumble under the power. But both of them are now seen as threads.

How will it end? Can Lia and Ryee help the Isles? What happened to their crew? Maybe I'll post a part of the first chapter here, so stay tuned!

(pics are from Pinterest and part of my moodboards for the characters 😊)

[1800titz]

HI BESTIES. Trivia!Harry x Shy!Reader part 1 ((based on THIS post))

The one where Harry hosts trivia at a small town bar every Thursday and you just can’t seem to shut up.

WC: 3.7K

This is part one of a patreon exclusive series — the rest will only be accessible through my patreon. You can already find part 2 up on my patreon (✿◠‿◠)

You take a long drink. It tastes like kismet and carbonated nothingness.

(Retrospect will tell you that it's meant to be— tiny town, diminutive ambitions, hulking potential. But now, the twinge of an uncomfortable fever crawls up from your collar and makes you want to squirm in your seat.)

“Alright, alright, alright.”

And the smooth baritone against the head of a microphone makes your insides squeeze. Close. Real close— his mouth is pink, hovering millimeters, and that brass is the kind that seeps over your nape, under your skin. Molasses-heavy, slinking the gaps in the meshed grill caging. You blink up at the portable four-by-eight platform.

It's the kind of squeeze along your guts, the heat simmering in your face the longer you stare, that'll taunt you in the ridges of the night. Boxed into this— tonight, under a parapet— comfort zone hovering beyond your periphery, in the nook of the living room you left behind to wrack your head and stare at sin-in-bulk on a mobile stage.

The lively chatter dulls as heads turn, and then swells in eager increments. 

“Alright,” he says, a set of green eyes flickering from the monitor he’s settled over a rejigged high top, bounding sharply to whoever’s just given an overly enthusiastic cry of yes from the horde.

A peal of sparse, scattered laughter blooms in the throng. His mouth quirks.

“Very enthusiastic. How are you?” 

His cresting gaze climbs from the glowy screen, casting light and carving shadow over the sultry features of his visage; an evenly straight slope of a nose, cheekbones feathered by long lashes, a bit of curl that traipses over his forehead. 

His chin swivels to his left, somewhere closer to the platform where a woman leans over the table— her designated team. The corners of his lips curl in response to whatever she’s said. He smiles. Nods. He tips his chin. Makes a creased face like something playful. Says something else, laughs softly, and turns back, shaking his head. 

You tuck the straw into your mouth and take another, long slow sip.  

In the heft of his hand, the stem of the mic nearly resembles a toy. A maquette between the thick of his fingers.

“Hope everyone’s having a lovely Thursday. M’Harry, I’ll be leading the trivia— as I do— so if you’re sitting there going, who is this obnoxious cock, talking into the mic the whole night? Hi, Hello. That’s me— I do trivia.”

You get it now. The infamous cynosure is fit. 

At first, you had been dubious to desert your romcom reruns and your cross-stitch project mid-way (despite the fact that your thumb now resembles a pin cushion) when your friends had swept you off into their regularly scheduled, mysteriously niche Thursday night schemes. Now, you get it. 

The destination— The Black Horse— is a fuggy little space that smells like spilt Michelob and fusty, weathered oak. There’s a no smoking sign pasted in a spare crevice of the backbar, but someone in the far right corner exhales a plume of vapor like they’ve hit their elfbar in the most nonchalantly covert manner imaginable. Shamelessly. It’s a small town— an islet in the heart of an archipelago— and you think you can make out your seventh grade swim team rival perched somewhere off in the front row. 

The Black Horse is nothing special. It sells cheap draughts by the pitcher and parallels a barbershop in the crux of the town, two blocks off the boardwalk, which is arguably the chiseled, shiny musgravite of Treah’s core— a roaring green sea that eats away at the borders of the isle, shrouding vibrantly hued cays, glimmering under the beam of the sun. The majority of the holm’s economy is dependent on tourism (a simultaneous bane— said tourists enjoy uprooting foliage, building infrastructures, and partaking in chunks of housing buyouts), but you can tell that The Black Horse has been …preserved to say the least. It’s four stone walls sewn into a plaza with three other natively owned businesses and looks like something straight out of a cinematic piece set in a rural village, planted into Treah long before you had her first wiggly tooth. 

The Black Horse isn’t what makes attendance worth it. It’s him—

“We’ve got a crowd tonight. If you haven’t played trivia with me here at The Black Horse before, welcome. S’a little different than your typical trivia, though, because it’s…”

The crowd hollers back, as if scripted, “Dirty trivia!” 

“Dirty Trivia,” Harry echoes, and when the edges of his lips crook, dimples burrow beside the corners, “Right, Dirty Trivia. This one’s rated R, so if you’re not old enough to be here, I dunno how you got here, but this is going to be your cue to head out. Any— any children in here tonight? …No? Wonderful.” 

He huffs into the mic, shaking his head and jostling his halo of curls. A jaundiced, warm beam catches on them. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but m’not even joking— a couple of weeks ago someone was sitting in here with, like, a little kid.” 

It’s Harry, with the divots burrowing into his cheeks, the croon into the mic, lighting the crowd alive on an introduction. Incandescent (speckled in stars, spelled out— you don't get that bit, yet.)

You cross your legs. Your friend raises her eyebrows from across the teak table top and says it with her eyes. Told you so; Trivia Man is a cream dream. 

“Yeah,” Harry confirms over the dispersed, appalled eruption of laughter, nodding down at someone seated at a table closer to the stage, “I was, like, …shit,” he blinks back up and motions out, a slow sweep with his free hand, “Friendly reminder, this is not a form of sex ed.” 

Pausing, (lips twitchy over the sown mirth), he brings the microphone back with a newfound seriousness and tacks on, nodding slowly, “…That kid won it for the whole team.” 

He smiles. It's a lopsided spall of a ruddy seam that shows teeth, and that's when you recognize the heinous, gurgling froth of a new addiction. Incipient, blooming along your shimmery, star-struck eyes.

“No, m’joking,” he clears his throat. “M’gonna pass out a sheet and some little note pads for your answers. You’re gonna use one of those little notes to jot down a clever team name, do the same in that team name spot of the sheet, and then pass the note up to me.”

Pussy Posse. A pre-established moniker you have had no jurisdiction over, merely perched as an addition to a settled cadre. Still, you gnaw into your cheek when you watch a friend beside you scribble in the title with a ballpoint. 

“I’ll be coming around between questions to pick those answers up, have a chat, whatever. We’re all here to have fun, yes?” 

You swear he sweeps you with his eyes, like a passing tide gliding the sea. Probably just the way the green in his sockets meets everyone else in the throng, but the moment it happens your molars chew in harder.

“On the topic of fun, let’s keep it nice and fair, yeah? Phones put away— no cheating— you’ll have plenty of time to check those when we have our break midway.”

It feels ignoble to eye-fuck him from behind the sheathes of your empty irises as he paces the stage— after all, this is just a wholesomely clad, virtuously upstanding guy leading trivia, but. The gears behind your skull are mottled with the amalgam of a fawning affliction— cerebrospinal fluid and sticky tar. It leaves you in a goop of thoughtless ogling that renders your head empty. Even when he makes his way to the bar-height table your team curls around, when his eyes linger on you— “A new face.”— you just...

Mindlessly stare. 

Dirty trivia, you learn, is dirty.

It hits you when Harry quips (dare you note, mischievously), “Hoo-hoo-hoo. Starting off strong with the first one.” 

He states, talc flickering from the LED display ahead to the bevy of trivia-players, “What country,” and pauses for emphasis, “has—“ pits grub at the smooth of his cheeks, beside the grin that splinters to show ivory teeth, “the highest average, in the world, for penis size?” 

There’s no source of entertainment like that of trivia held, on a Thursday, on a remote islet, in a poky bar that smells like stale beer and dust-coated, chipping leather. Evidently. 

“I actually don’t know this one,” Harry chimes, raising a wry shoulder, “So it’s trivia for me, as well.” 

“England,” Marina stamps a blow that the teak hasn’t warranted, whisper-shouting over the staggering peals of guffaw and chatter, “He’s hung, I bet you.”

“He’s not going to fuck you for writing in England,” Beth’s chortles clash with your scorned, “Marina.”

“That’s not even an answer,” Bee waves towards the flatscreen framed over the man’s head.

Senegal, Haiti, Ecuador, and Gambia. 

“Where the fuck is Gambia—”

You settle on Gambia. 

You watch Beth scribble it in and dot the i with an open sphere. The edges don’t meet. When Harry winds the rows of tables, plucking answer cards and making small-talk, you cast your inkpools into your glass, pyrexia across the bridge of your nose, brain-rotted with the insinuation of him being …hung.

“Lots of Haiti, lots of Senegal,” Harry states, once he’s smoothed the cards out with his colossal, ringed paws, and looked them over. 

You stare at the bob of his throat as he swallows, directing the mic back to his lips.

“Big reveal?” He pauses, as if for cataclysmic emphasis, riling the crowd enough for you to note restive shoulders and juddering feet. 

“Patience,” Harry says softly into the microphone, raising his eyebrows. It's a muted word that clicks in the speaker with a thump. Throbs between your ribs, under your cold hands.

With paltry warning, he reveals, “Ecuador! At,” squinting at the blue-toned LED, “—a whopping 6-point-nine-three. Solid for the average. Do we have any Ecuadorian men in the audience tonight? Anybody who’s added to that average? Congratulations. You beat us. You beat everyone.” 

There’s a dissonant slurry of responses, some ripostes flung along tables, some bouts of clapping, hollering over the rows, sloshing mugs raised in triumph. 

Harry’s deltoids climb in a shrug, and his head wags from side to side, “Some valiant contenders, those Ecuadorians.” 

“I told you it wasn’t Gambia—“

You ogles the way Harry tilts over the platform towards a table, brows kinked as if trying to pick up something audible he’d missed. In your periphery, Marina prods into Beth’s direction with a palmful of something claret in a pellucid martini glass. 

“What was that?” Harry coaxes into the microphone. 

The corners of his mouth have caved up, and by the time the majority of the trivia-players sink into a piqued lull, he’s slanted over toward the table. A brunette with long, shiny hair arches up out of her seat into her directions, braced to the teak high-top with planted, elbow-locked arms. 

“Where do you fall?” is undeniable the second time. 

Harry blinks. His mouth paints over with a smile. 

“Where do I fall?”

He blatantly bridles a sputter when he winds toward the laptop he’s set up, culls his glass of a golden, pale straw beer that’s lost its layer of foam, and takes a long drink. Clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Very forward. Take me out to dinner first.” 

You discover that, despite the ubiquitously crude sexualizing, Harry is sort of like a bird. An Indian Peafowl, preening with its neatly arranged plume— he likes it. The flattery. His tongue peeks out and swipes along as he stares down at the screen. Little dimples pit when it tucks back in— ones he blatantly can’t contain. 

He chuckles and states into the microphone, “…Below. Don’t worry about it.” 

Somehow, you doubt it.  -

-

-

-

You plait yourself into the Thursday Fawn Sessions as a regular attendee, curling up at the same high top to ogle the same man pace a platform with a microphone. Watch him make jesting comments and ask things like, “Axillism is the act of using what strange body part during sex?” 

You find yourself learning a thing or two from each session, and you find that the emeralds seated in his sockets linger on you, sometimes— this absolute clam shell taking up a spot in the bar and chugging fizzy water (ogling his frame in lull every time he approaches your table), too. Pussy Posse is no good at the trivia, more often than not wheedling in second-to-last, but you find yourself much too entertained to mind. 

Franks is a self-explanatory hot dog cart. It stands midway on the boardwalk and operates through sunny mizzles and borderline hurricane cloudbursts, when the green salt chuck is choppy. High tiding. Those are the days you stand out in your jaundiced poncho, salty rain spittle beating at your cheeks, and watch the waves eat at the ipe in a nasty, wet hunger, no customers in sight. 

Midsummer afternoons, though, are good. Busy. When Treah morphs industrious and bustling — tourists like Franks on the boardwalk. 

It’s a slow coda for June. The sea is planate, swaying over steel supports mantled by barnacles. Gulls chortle, gliding low in the ether— it oozes yellow, something balmy like the goo of an egg yolk. You've sold two hot dogs, tallied three joggers (one eager speedwalker), and noted one couple pushing a baby in a stroller, who offered tight-lipped smiles and veganism. You don't entirely mind a slow day, because setting shop on the boardwalk means spending the day on the boardwalk. Breathing the sea until your lungs are full of salt and your eardrums reverberate the crash of the water behind your skull. You taste it at the back of your throat— something like home as home could get.  

There’s another jogger loping— a moving blip of skin color in chiaroscuro against wood paneling. In the distance. Drawing closer. You imagine him passing the cart, the soles of his trainers padding over the row of planks until he’s just another form of lines and shading, faced away. You check your phone. 

The jogger is still a good bit away. You swipe open Wordle. You're on your third attempt of elucidating something that goes blank, I, blank, E, blank (with a P that doesn’t quite fit where you've slotted it)—

“Hi.”

Your eyes crest. 

Treah is a really small town. Not in a prudishly, bible-bashing form of a pastoral village, sheathed in a bosky, wooded moat of thicket and then plains of nothingness for hundreds of miles. But it is an island enveloped by the sea from all sides, sequestered without a boat or a little plane, whose wheels bumpily kiss the asphalt of anearly comically small airport. Even the tourists lodging up in their summer homes, all the same months like annual clockwork, make reappearances. The faces are, nearly always, the same, and you see the same faces often. It was only a (limited) matter of time before you'd coalesced beyond the borders skirting The Black Horse.

In hindsight, you didn’t envisage that you'd be wearing a baseball cap emblematized with a weenie when it happened. Or that his tits would be out and about. 

“Have you got water?”

He’s panting. Casually slippery; coated in sweat that glimmers in the sun and carves the well-toned sinews of his torso, with sunglasses tucked up over his curls like a makeshift headband. He ogles expectantly with a set of jade that puts the hues of the lapping, green sea behind him to shame. A parted mouth, sculpted and cushiony, sucks in breaths from the liminal space divvying their atoms while your own become clogged, somewhere midway an esophageal prison, in limbo toward your lungs. A shaded lepidoptera scored over his tummy flutters, batting its wings in the swell and sink of his diaphragm expanding. 

His shorts are teeny. Tiny, little things. Cobalt. Mirroring laurels carving alongside his V-line peek from the waistband, and a happy trail climbs to kiss his navel. 

You blink. “Yes. Yeah. We do. Yes. …Is bottled okay?” 

“Bottled is perfect.”

He sticks a hand into his pocket, eyes flickering to your face, away, back. Slow-like. You trace the wisps in the sky with your eyes, heat searing up your neck and pooling in the flesh of your face. It’s a sudden, unforeseen stuffiness sweltering for such a beautiful day. You recognize your horrid blunder in his next words. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” 

You should have ducked your chin, tucked the visor lower, and hoped for the best. Instead, now, you blink, dazed and wide-eyed like a Red brocket saturated by blinding headlights.  

“Oh. I’m not sure. Um. Small …town— maybe?” 

“You come to, uh—“ a nudge with his chin in your direction as you arduously regulate the stuttery pace of your respiration. The jitter in your fingers, like a lovesick school girl. You cache them behind the cart and let them judder. “—trivia nights. At The Black Horse, yeah? I couldn’t forget a face like yours.” 

Harry grins, the way he does. Lopsided, so the left corner turns up a little higher— dimpled with a long flash of teeth. Except now, he’s slippery and half-naked. 

Folie. Miscalculated gaffe in a weenie cap. Your smile is tight.

“Oh—“ again, “…Yeah.” 

“Right,” Harry nods. Smiley. Lingering, looking you over. He buries an enormous hand back into his pocket then, brows creasing like he’s remembered something, and pulls out a little rectangle in cardboard paper. “Hey, actually. I’ve got this coupon here. S’what I do all the other days of the week, ah—“

He extends it out. 

Harve-y a free drink, on us! 

“M’a bartender over at Harvey’s. S’close to The Black Horse, if you’re in that area. Monday and Saturday mornings. Wednesday and Friday nights. If you come by, I’ll fix you up with a drink.” 

It feels impolite to leave him hanging, so you swipe out at the offering, cradling it with slow fingertips. 

“We can do some one on one trivia. Train you up,” Harry tacks on.

You swallow. Harry is an attractive man. His allure is apodictic— a sort of conventional, objective quality that leaves your throat parched when it becomes paired with his unfaltering eye contact. You're not a virgin, and you're an adept swimmer, but his presence feels like viridian saltwater that’s waiting to swallow her whole. The nerves that bubble, a fizz of chagrin, remind you why exactly you enjoy fawning from a distance. Because he makes you feel nervous, and when you're nervous, the dialogue spumes like miasmic word vomit. 

He’s got a thin sheathe of sweat that glimmers in the seat of his cupid’s bow, but it’s not in a gross way. In fact, it reminds you that the rest of him, his denuded skin, is slick, because he’s been jogging along the boardwalk. It reminds you how hard it is not to openly ogle the tattoos he’s got on show. You should have called out from your weenie gig, and you should have refilled her alprazolam prescription weeks ago. 

“Oh,” you tell him, slowly, face creasing, “I don’t— I don’t drink.”

Harry blinks. It’s a weird confession, considering you're a Thursday night regular at a bar that’s really only good for anything that has enough alcohol to shroud the stale taste perfuming the air. Still, nothing beyond open expectancy erupts along his features, and that’s worse. You feel them crawling up your throat, clambering up the back of your tongue like the words have knobby joints. They meet the backs of your teeth, waiting to spew. 

“—Not because I’m a recovering alcoholic or anything, I just don’t like the way it makes me feel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Or drinking. I actually think it’s so admirable. You know? Like, to be brave… and… and a lot of times those people will attend support groups—“

Harry blinks again. 

“—And they talk about it. I can’t imagine sharing something like that— not that there’s anything wrong with it! But. Um. I always get virgin cocktails at The Black Horse. Or club soda. Or juice.”

Her lips seal over. You entrap the rest behind your traitorous teeth — a drawbridge that never should’ve sunk open. Despite your overly candid, overstated explanation, you don't stick the coupon back out in his direction. You harbor it in your hand, blinking slowly and gnawing into your cheek. 

“…S’okay. We do orange juice, too,” Harry tells her, entirely casual despite your discomfited speech, raising his brows. 

There’s the curbed efforts of a bemusedly mirthy grin at the corners of his mouth, and his nonchalant bearing only makes your face hotter. You feels like you're broiling under the shade of the awning. 

“And club soda.” 

“…Cool,” You settle on, tightly. 

“Sick.”

“…It’s, uh… two dollars,” you tell him when the reticence starts to suffocate you. 

You're going to go home and ram your head through a window. 

“Oh,” Harry casts his gaze to the water (it has the average, entirely typical proportions of a water bottle, but in his hand, it’s nearly miniature), as if he’s forgotten the chilly source of condensation coating his palm. That he’s in arrears. He sticks his free hand into the same pocket where the coupon was stuffed, “Right. I think I’ve got two dollars in here, somewhere.” 

Instead, when he stretches a bill out towards you, it’s worth ten. You avoid eye contact. You reach for the cash box tucked below, and you pry the lid up to delegate his change. 

“Oh,” Harry echoes, raising his enormous hand in effort of halting you, “S’alright. S’yours.”  

“Oh. I… can’t take tips. It’s, like. Against the code of conduct.” 

“Code of conduct at a …hot dog stand?” 

As if you needed to be reminded that you're donning a silly cap with an animated frank, standing on a boardwalk that’s practically empty of prospective patrons. The chagrin churns in your stomach and surfaces in the set line of your mouth. 

“…Yes.” 

Harry pauses, brows kinked like he’s ruminating, and then he inhales and decides, “Well. It’s not a tip, yeah? It’s just… you break it up, put two in the box, and then put the rest in your pocket.” 

“Oh. No. You— you’ve already given me the coupon—“ you argue, frenziedly waving out a mismatched wad of cash.

He raises his hands and ambles in one suavely, lengthy step back. “I’m going now.” 

“No!” 

He’s three away that would fit five or six of your own gait when he declares, “Yes! I hope to see you for that orange juice. On the house. Have a good one.” 

This is a patreon exclusive series. If you'd like to read more, part 2 is already up on my patreon! <3

[thesirenisles]

Neptune’s Angels🐚🪽

beauty, love, planet energy astrology observation✨

Neptune in the 1st House, Neptune in 2nd

Neptune Ascendant Aspects

Neptune Sun Aspects, Neptune Ruled/ Dominant

Pisces Sun, Venus, Moon, Mars

Pisces Ascendant, Pisces Rising

12th House Placements, esp. Pluto, Neptune, Sun

🐚“Ethereal, but beheld. She was absolutely magical. A changeling. The moon danced in her wet eyes, beckoned by her pure heart. Then like the tide.. she was gone.”

Do not copy any of my original work. All rights reserved. © 2024 The Siren Isles | Leave a tip if you enjoy! 🧜🏾‍♀️

🧿BEWARE OF ENVY🧿

esp. 12th housers, 1st housers, and Pisces Asc & Venus

You never have to do too much. Your siren’s tune announces your presence before you enter the room. Gifted with the siren’s stare and the mermaid’s heart. In social settings, you will find many people push their projections upon you, envious of your ethereal energy.

In example,

POV: You are engaged in a conversation about a niche topic you possess extensive knowledge of (with your philosopher’s soul lol). The person you’re speaking to is mesmerized, completely entranced by your eye contact.

Usually a particularly miserable, (insecure, mean girl type) bystander who witnesses this energy exchange, picks up on this. They see the genuine glimmer in your eyes and can easily deem it flirtation, flattery, and even worse…arrogance to others. This can create negative clouds of gossip, fueled by your natural mystery.

This lack of clear energy, the child-like purity you possess is a key theme of Neptune. This Neptunian energy makes for a juicy meal for the beasts called Envy and Jealousy.

I believe it’s worthy to note the distinct difference between the two.

Jealousy is anger towards the thought of losing something to another, whether that’s a competition, person, or admiration.

Envy, of course is wanting to possess exactly what the other person has. Envy calls upon an evil fouler beast… the coveting.

Coveting is perhaps one of the most dangerous forms of envy and Neptune seems the perfect victim to a covetous green eyed beast.

Why is this?

Neptune’s energy to its core can be compared to the archetype of Persephone, in my opinion. The paramour to Persephone is Hades.

Hades, God of the Underworld rules Pluto.

Per the mythology, he falls deeply and insatiably in love with the young Persephone. She is pure, loving, and adored. He is the broken protector and she is the healer.

He is scorpio and She is pisces!

Side note: Any couples with significant pisces and scorpio placements… I know you feel this. The PASSION!

However, as it pertains to envy... Pluto rules over these obsessive and destructive energies. Others possessing bad aspected Pluto or Mars… even Mercury *cough* Gemini’s… can be really put off by the grace of an ANGEL.

The obsessive digging of a Plutonian, aggressive courting of a Martian, or excessive gossiping of a Mercurial is inevitable as they try to define you or figure you out.

But, you are an enigma! A changeling, always shifting shape…

At first, they will adore you. This adoration will lead to coveting as they try to possess what you have or even worse, YOU. They can become fiendishly obsessed.

This healer dynamic can also get a bit toxic within a relationship if badly aspected or if the broken person does not wish to grow.

protect yourselves, queens!

NEPTUNE’S 🔵 ✨GIFTS

While the energy can come with baggage, ultimately your energy manifests several beautiful gifts. The first and most obvious gift is YOUR BEAUTY!!

You’re the type of person people just stare at… simply in awe of such a uniquely beautiful and out of this world face.

Neptune in the 1st house is a well-known models placement. A gorgeous innocent with a siren-like gaze. Everyone wants to possess you! Some even want to BE YOU.

Immediately what comes to mind is Ms. Marilyn Monroe (Pluto 12th house). So many have idolized and mimicked her energy because she was sexually attractive, but she was most likely even more intoxicating in her private spaces where she felt comfortable.

Nobody oozes sex appeal like the siren, Rihanna. (Pisces Sun) Countless celebrities have mentioned how entranced they were by simply her presence. This is not a beauty that has to be symmetrical like Venus, but ever-changing. You’re everybody’s cup of tea. You have OPTIONS! Some women really just got it like that.

🐚 However.. as I mentioned, people adore your innocent energy and some will expect you to be vapid. They will expect you to be a push-over with a pretty face.

On the contrary, Neptune (and Big Daddy Jupiter for those with pisces placements) blesses you with a vast knowledge, which surprises those who underestimated you… enticing them even more!

🐚 But, My dear Angels… Do you truly KNOW how special you are?

Do you know that your very being consists of magic and Angelic healing energy? The 12th house and Piscean influences are not of this earth, but of the metaphysical. This means that your energy is literally unexplainable to the 3D. It is literally magic connected to spirit!

This energy gifts you with a mermaid’s heart… bigger than your body. The gravitational pull of your heart’s energy is so powerful. Within you is an infinite amount of love for literally all beings. (No joke, it’s giving animals are attracted to you and babies love you vibes. Disney princess vibes! PURR.) Esp, Pisces Venus

However, this includes those who hurt you. (Because your heart is just so pure, it empathically understands why they did what they did and you actually sympathize with your attacker!)

STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY. It is totally stopping your evolution and glow up.

🧿Please protect your angelic energy.

Please take the time to fully isolate and recharge that energy. That is a luxury you MUST afford yourself to maintain or achieve optimum health and vitality. Neptune is the higher octave of Venus, a planet that thrives in self indulgence through the means of the human senses. Pamper yourself. 💅🏾

Think of yourself as a rare silk. You wouldn’t let just anyone trample all over your exquisite fabrics with dirty shoes, hands, or their outside clothing.

The same goes for you, your aura, and your PRESENCE! 🪽

The mere presence of your energy is like fresh Filet Mignon to those starving of true self love.

🐚 An undeserving or broken soul will seek you out like a wayward sailor in a dark storm… hearing your siren song.

You MUST be handled delicately.

Thank you for reading. Wishing you blessings! 🪽✨

PLUTO AVAILABLE ♏️✨ MERCURY AVAILABLE ♍️♓️✨ MARS AVAILABLE ♈️✨ VENUS AVAILABLE♉️♎️ Other planets coming soon.

@thesirenisles | masterlist | Enjoyed? Support!🧜🏾‍♀️

[apoemaday]

Lake Isle of Innisfree

by W.B. Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[jeankirstein4ever]

Love Songs - Modern!Eren J.

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

A/N: Match up for @ermbabyel! You guys have been such supportive angels, sorry there was such a long break but the vacation was lovely!

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

Your first impression isn't ideal - it's the dead of night in a CVS, exhausted and bored with the current color of your hair only to be met with the loudest group of boys in the universe. Eren, Connie, and Jean had had a long night of drinking and playing at some dive bar, barking laughing, and yelling throughout the store.

" fifty bucks if you dye your hair, 'ren," Connie calls out some stupid bet, leaving you to side-eye them as they get closer and closer to you - their volume becoming overbearing.

"Hey, what color should he -hic- dye his hair, d'you think your color would look -hic- good on 'em." Eren throws his arm back halting Jean and Connie as they approach you.

He smiles apologetically, "Sorry about them, they're a bit rowdy when drunk, but your hair is pretty."

You two make chit-chat in the isle, Connie and Jean had wandered off in search of food, while you offered advice on what color would suit him, and what kind of haircare to use to keep the color for longer.

He’ll pay attention to you as you speak- practically trying to drink you in; like a crow, he’ll get distracted by the glimmer and glittering jewelry that adorns your person. Mesmerized to a mind-fogging extent.

He invited you to one of his shows, a bit pouty when you tell him your aversion to louder cramped places, "Well maybe I could play something for just you?" A sly smirk plastered on his drunken face.

You get his number and finally talk yourself into inviting him over, opting for a movie night, and laying out a plethora of blankets and prized stuffed animals. The knock on your door startles you a little opening it, "Hey pretty girl", his dumb smile lazy across his lips, guitar in his ring-clad hand.

He adores your enthusiasm as you lay out the horror movie options, ultimately letting you pick whatever movie you want, "if we don't get through them all I guess I'll just have to come over again."

It felt cliche but he couldn't pay attention for the life of him, you were too, too much of everything, and eventually, when you relaxed into his arms he wanted to eat you; heart and soul.

The next couple of times he comes over, it becomes harder to ignore that desire.

He'll hold your thighs firmly in between his hands, the pads of his fingers rough from years of playing guitar. Licking a long stripe against your wet dripping hole, making you whine. "gotta stay still baby, wanna hear all your pretty noises, can't do that when you're runnin' away from me."

Nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs, one hand interlaced lazily with yours, the other working your body like you were the only thing he knew, drawing his fingers in and out in agonizingly long strokes.

saliva was spilling over your lips, mouth agape and gasping for him, " 'ren, 'ren too full, can't." In contrast to his hands, his hips work fast, too eager to feel you, his hands lifting your soft hips to him, practically bruising your cervix at this pace.

He's shirtless hovering over you, necklaces and hair sticking to his warm skin, "fuck baby, wish you could see yourself, god, gonna-"

Cum spilling out of you onto the flesh of your thighs and his abdomen, Eren collapses into a heap on top of you, his head laying in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your shoulder, "you sound prettier than any love song."

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

Blue Jeans - Lana Del Rey

Favorite - Isabel LaRosa

Glue Song - Beabadoobee

Real Love Baby - Father John Misty

Homecoming - Kanye West, Chris Martin

Speed - Kali Uchis

She Wants My Money - Dominic Fike

I. Pink Toes - Childish Gambino

Power Trip - J.Cole, Miguel

Kiss - Prince

❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖❁˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚❁˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

[genshin-impact-updates]

Version 4.2 "Masquerade of the Guilty" Trailer | Genshin Impact

"Now that my magic is spent,

Please, O judge, lift the chains from my soul!

Never again consign me to dance alone upon this lonely isle.

My last glimmer of hope I offer up to you."

[bloodbrown]

P going from stiff and cold at low-humanity to soft and warm at high-humanity is my favorite headcanon ever.

When you first kiss him, he's totally unmoving. The synthetic skin of his cheek is cold, offering a strange, firm resistance against your lips. His springs are reacting, and things are happening deep within his heart that he doesn't fully understand. But he can't express or display that to you because he is only a simple puppet.

Kiss him again, with his flowing long locks tickling your face as you lean in. You notice his slight breaths and a bit of give to his cheek as you cup it gently. The Ergo coursing through him is responding with some new foreign yearning. All of these things are seemingly impossible for a puppet, and yet you catch a glimmer of sincere tenderness in his glassy blue eyes.

Wrap your arms around him as you reunite when he returns from the Isle of Alchemists. Push the strands of silky silver hair from his face. You notice when you do that there's inexplicable heat that radiates from his cheeks and lips. When you join your lips with his in an emotional kiss, he suddenly returns your hug. As you're gently shoved against his chest, you're enveloped by his soothing, soft warmth, and you can hear a quiet beating in his very core.

...It's like going from smooching on a sad plank of wood to having your own personal space heater that gives you neck rubs.

[bobbin-buckley]

Like Rain Meets Oil

Cairo Sweet x Artist!Fem!Reader

Summary: You find Cairo alone in the dark, as you fight over your darkest secrets in the night sky

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of suicide, Mr. Miller mentioned, teacher x student mentions,

Somewhat angst…and some fluff at the end

(Please do not read if these affect you)^^

Enjoy ^_^

y/e/c: Your eye color

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rain

One of your favorite time of days, is when it rains..especially when it’s dark

Taking a stroll down a wet path, the sidewalk had puddles of water on it. The street lights glimmered in the reflection of the puddles. Avoiding the puddles as to not get your shoes wet, even if you were a bit drenched already.

It wasn’t typical for you to stroll in the middle of the night as it rained, (not that the rain was spouting down hard) you rather enjoyed rain indoors..as you did whatever thing you enjoy at this time.

Strolling down by the gates of your school. Yes, gates at a school, this wasn’t just any high school in particular..this school was quite fancy…just for some high school in Tennessee.

The schools gates were tall, could keep intruders out..but in this case someone had either broken in or…was here for a reason.

The gate was slightly opened

Now, were you an adventurous person?

Yes

Did you like sneaking into places?

Probably

In this case it was curiosity of who would be sneaking around in the school at this time.

Maybe some dirty teenagers or some..homeless person..? Who knows, but you were persistent to find out anyways.

You whipped right past the gate, making sure no one was looking and approached the school. It looked rather strange in the dark, as-well as rain covering it. You noticed how the entrance to the library had a light shinning over it, did the janitor forget to turn off the light?

Odd. Getting closer to the door you opened it with ease, someone had definitely broken in..or.gotten in at least..because who breaks into a school?

Warmer air hit you once entering the building, you were on the backside of the library. The back rooms.

Shutting the door behind you and walking further in and out of the backrooms. It was warm oddly..and pretty much dark. You strolled through the dark isles of books..not being able to tell what the book covers said because of how dark it was

Your eyes caught something over by the library’s large window, the moonlight was gleaming inside the library..so there was some light..but that wasn’t what caught your eye..

Someone else was here, for sure.

Someone was sitting in the lounge area, holding a cigarette in hand..they were facing forward so you couldn’t tell who it was…but they obviously weren’t exactly a thief…hopefully

“I know you’re there, you can stop hiding…”

They spoke.

You recognized their voice, you more than likely knew who it was. And it wasn’t a surprise why they were here.

“Walking around here at night is dangerous, especially for someone like you..”

They spoke again. Walking in their direction you walked further enough to see who it was.

Cairo Sweet

“What is it about me that makes it dangerous for me to wander here?” You asked, not facing her direction since you knew it was her.

She chuckled

“You are weak, naive and impulsive. You wouldn’t notice if someone was stalking you, maybe kidnap you..”

You couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not, but she takes another puff of her cigarette..which was another thing lighting in the library other than the moonlight.

“Hm..those are gonna kill you ya know.” You ignore her comments about you and referred to her cigarette. “Also, what makes you think I’m weak?”

“It’s just the truth…face it,” she rolls her eyes. “And I don’t care, I can smoke if I want.”

She obviously didn’t like your company

“I’m just warning ya…and I didn’t ask whether it was a true or false statement…I wanna know why you think I’m weak.” You snide, turning to face her now..you could see her features now..as yours was being shown half of light and dark..

“You’re attitude says enough, you can be too nice for anyone to take you seriously…you’re just too impulsive that anyone with a strong personality could make up a lie and you’d believe it.” She inhaled once more. “And for your kindness you think being nice to them you’ll expect it back? Pretty low from you..”

You could tell she hated that you followed her, how you talked back without hesitation.

“I don’t like making verbal or physical fights.”

“Right, you’re just too afraid of fighting and making confrontation. And it’s not like you can anyway…all a strong person needs to do is raise their voice and you’ll…cower or something..” Cairo snickers.

“I’m not afraid. I’m just trying to be a better person from who I used to be. You can either end up on the streets selling weed or…dead.”

It’s true, you used to be selfish..a no good person. Attempted multiple things…like selling drugs..you almost attempted suicide.. and some assholes in the world end up in those places…jail even

“Well, that just lets me know how you think. The fact you basically said you only see two bad pathways in life, as if there isn’t more..to be scum of the earth..or a naive child..it’s just pathetic. No wonder you are delusional and nice, you don’t consider other possibilities. You only focus on the extreme and completely oblivious anything other..”

Damn, she hand a point..the fact you looked down only two pathways..one’s you could more than likely live off on

Cairo finishes her cigarette, and crushes the rest of it on the tip of her shoe

“What makes you think you have the upper hand over me? Because..I think I remember someone coming in here without permission…

Oh right, Cairo Sweet, getting into trouble again. I mean hey, I’m not the one breaking into places and smoking weed on school grounds.”

“Are you threatening me? Telling on me? That has to be the worst comeback I’ve heard today. What are you? A child?

Oh wait…you are because you’re so naive you don’t even know all the bad things..I should be impressed you know the word ‘weed’….” Cairo laughs, laying her leg on the other.

“I’m not a child, and..it seems like I’ve hit a weak spot because..you are jumping to conclusions now..I didn’t say I’d tell on ya..”

You were now looking straight at her, arms crossed and eyebrows lowered

She scoffs, “I can read read between the lines to figure you out, you can’t hide the obvious. Why would you bring up something about me smoking weed in a school if not to threaten me? Because you were concerned, please, as if you care.” She was also staring right back at you, those brown eyes glaring right into your y/e/c.

“You said it yourself, I’m nice. But you are lucky I’m not letting anyone know about your…weed.

But also..I remember two years ago you were the one seducing Jonathan Miller our professor…wasn’t he like..fifty two? Yet you only seduced him to then get him in trouble because he was trying to fuck you all because you were mad he rejected your writing. Which was literal porn you had written!”

Cairo was in shock. She wasn’t expecting for you to spill her life. And she as a bit pissed too

“H-how do you know about that?”

“Oh please, I have bigger eyes and bigger brain than you think Miss Sweet.”

Her face grows back to arrogance and confidence again

“So you think you’ve got the upper hand now because you know my secrets, but that doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”

“Maybe I don’t know much about you. But how you cut your words towards me, and what you did two years ago. Tells me a lot.”

You were smiling now, you had her

“Oh, and I’m sure your ex best friend hates you now, that you practically used her during that time. Winnie did talk to me.”

Winnie and you became friends not long ago. Yeah she’s odd and sex positive or whatever…but she seemed so upset about what Cairo did to her

She freezes, for a moment..losing her vanity..she just froze at your words..

“Winnie…you talked to Winnie?” She looks at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I did.” You stood there proud, crossed arms and hiding back a smile.

“How’d you talk to Winnie? She left mid semester last year, and blocked me on everything..what did she tell you?”

Cairo was furious..but also in complete disregard as well

“I’m not going to tell you what she said, but she managed to get my number somehow and then we met up to chat.”

Winnie called you on a random Sunday, saying she’d meet you at a coffee shop in town. You weren’t sure why, but obliged anyways..

“She called you?” “Yeah.” “What did she say about me?…I wanna know..because when she left, she made it clear she didn’t want me in her life anymore.”

Winnie did talk a lot about Cairo, she cried about how mean she was and what she did to Miller that Winnie told her not to do…

“I’m not saying anything, she told me not to tell you.”

Cairo’s eyebrows furred, she wasn’t liking the fact you weren’t giving her a direct answer

“You can’t tell me one thing? She may not be in my life anymore but why can’t you tell me? I just…want to know…please.” She pleaded, she was sitting more stiff on the lounge chair.

“Begging now huh? Seems like I do have the upper hand..” you smirk

Her face turns red in both anger and embarrassment. But she ignores your comment

“Just tell me one thing..just one..” you could hear the irritation in her voice.

“Can’t.”

Cairo takes a deep breath, her hands clenching so hard the veins in her hands were pulsing…

“Why? Why can’t you tell me at least one thing….?”

“Because I’m respecting her boundaries..unlike you.”

Her body felt numb..it was like as if you paralyzed her. Her face dropped to guilt and…sadness..she started to feel worse about herself. She had all this confidence but now it was…gone..

“What? Did I say too much? Did I break your cold heart? That’s too bad…because mines been broken too many times…and you don’t even realize you’ve broken Winnie’s too.”

Her silence spoke volumes, as she looked down at her feet

“I…I…I may have done wrong things…but that doesn’t make her any better than me. She’s done bad things too…”

“I’m aware, she was like the..schools ‘slut’ or whatever but..at least she didn’t go apeshit over a writing rejection. She did mention how she tried to stop you from getting Mr. Miller fired.”

Cairo bit her lip, “she’s who should have kept her mouth shut..” she murmured.

“You said you wanted to know one thing, well, there you go.”

Cairo fell silent again, her heart was racing at your words..she was thinking hard..

You sighed, walking over to her and sitting in a chair across from her.

“You can have a change of heart.

If I did, you can..”

Her eyes were directed back at her shoes, the cigarette bud left a mound on her shoe..

“So, you’re actually being..decent now..why?”

“Like you said..I’m weak..it’s because I’m too nice for my own good..you just haven’t seen the other side of me…”

She looks at you again, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern…

“How scary…” she says sarcastically

You sighed, “no kidding..you are and ass..”

Cairo smirked, “I’ve been told so..and I don’t disagree. I put it at my charming personality…which makes people think I am…don’t you think?” She mocks.

You looked into her eyes, trying to find some kind of hope in her…

“Not really, there is a good version of you in there…you’ve just forgotten her..Winnie told me so..”

Cairo’s eyes water a bit..concerned and confusion..

“Sh-she said that?”

“Yeah..Cairo, she misses you..”

The dark brunettes eyes tear up more, a tear slipped down her cheek…emotions were pealing through..her gaze didn’t move away from yours

“The good you.”

You stood up from the seat, walking past Cairo..walking towards the exit of the library..

Cairo was still processing this…she didn’t even notice you get up and leave..

“W-wait!” She stood up from her seat and walked in your direction before stopping..

You stopped in your tracks and turned to face her

“She…misses me?”

“Yeah..she does..”

“But…why? Why would she miss me? After everything I did to her..”

You pursed your lips, looking down for a moment before back into her eyes

“You think about that for a moment. You think about who you are now..compared to before Miller..think of the differences on why she wants you back.”

You turn around and walk to the library doors

“I’ll be in the art room when your ready to talk.”

Cairo was left in shock. She couldn’t help but let the tears flow down her face.

She was so angry at herself, not realizing how much it affected her old best friend. Winnie deserved the world, Winnie must’ve really actually liked Cairo..but she didn’t truly see that and went off to ruin someone’s life instead

You told her right. Told her how she was in the wrong, even if you weren’t apart of it..she still respected that you were right.

Cairo sighed, taking a big breath before strolling down to the art room, she was all of a sudden afraid…nervous..

She found herself in front of the art room, opening the door as it was a bit brighter inside. Her eyes caught you sitting in a small chair in the corner of the room, waiting patiently

“Ready?”

Cairo nodded, walking over in your direction

“Good, have a seat.” You sat up from the chair, telling her to sit in it

She sits down in it, looking at you as you walked over to an easel that had a painting which had a sheet draped over it

“So, will Winnie..ever forgive me? Would she be willing to have me back in her life?”

“I didn’t say anything about her forgiving you.”

More tears dripped from Cairo’s face, “she hates me still?”

You sighed, starting to feel bad

“I hate to say it but uhm..yeah…she does..”

“Did…did I really push her away..that much she’d be willing to talk to someone about me? I mean, I didn’t think she’d actually hate me this much…and you probably hate me too.”

You ripped the sheet off the painting, it revealed two people (genders not specified) holding each other. The painting showed from their waist to their heads as different colors of red painted the large canvas.

Cairo was confused, she looked at the painting…amazed but..unsatisfied at what you were trying to point out

“It resembles love and hate.”

Cairo looked at you, “so..you hate me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She was still puzzled…

“Then..what do you feel?”

“Absolutely nothing…”

She looked back at the painting..then the floor, “so- but how come you are still here and talking to me? Yet you feel nothing….”

She was right..that didn’t make sense for you to care about her so much..you’d talk to her..about her past and acting like you felt bad..

“Because feeling both love and hate for someone, makes you feel numb.”

You loved her? And hated her?

Cairo’s eyes widen, her jaw dropped. A million thoughts were running through her head..she felt numb too, she didn’t say anything..just silence..

“That is what the painting resembles..there isn’t any emotion or much interaction between these people…” you pointed at the painting. “Are they in love? Do they hate on another? Do they feel both? Yes.”

She looked at you when you said yes

“This is the exact situation between you and Winnie

She hates you, but she can’t help but love you”

Cairo understood now. Winnie still cared for her, she just couldn’t see her because she’s afraid…Cairo hated that she let her writing take a hold of her and make her do a bad thing…

“So..she’s numb because of me?”

“Exactly, and you wanna know who else you’ve made numb?”

She looks up at you when you stand in front of her

“Me.”

A tear. One tear falls at that word…you…she let all her emotions plow through before even putting the people who care for her first..

“Am I really that terrible? That I pushed Winnie and you away…”

“I like you Cairo, I really like you. It’s, just the things you’ve said and done made me hate you…but when I know there’s still good in you…I can’t stop loving you..”

It all hits her like a bullet. She didn’t know everything she did affected you, and Winnie.

She was so guilt tripped…she didn’t even think about you at the time. You two knew each other during the Miller thing…she didn’t notice how much you liked her and how Winnie cared for Cairo..trying to help her undo the bad

She felt numb..she hated you the moment you walked in the library..the moment she saw you again..since she saw your beautiful face in the moonlight she fell in love..

“I’m sorry..”

Cairo was crying, she’s never felt this emotional since she last spoke with Winnie…

You knelt down in front of her, looking in her broken eyes. She really needed a hug…something…

“Here…”

You patted your lap as you sat down on the cold floor

Hell broke through and she fell into your arms, crying her heart out. Saying she was sorry over and over again…

“Shhh..shhh..it’s okay..it’s okay..” you muttered into her hair, she was latched onto you like a leech..sucking your heart into hers…she needed love..all she wanted was to be loved..

“I know I said some things too…I’m sorry..I know you’re hurting..I know you need love..”

You were crying, she didn’t understand why and why were you apologizing?

“Just know I need it too, I’ve been so nice to you…and..you broke my heart..by rejecting my offer of help..and you just threw yourself to the wolves…when I needed you…and you needed me…”

Cairo held your hand, putting it against her cheek. “No, I should be apologizing…I hurt you..I hurt Winnie..I didn’t even know it either but I was hurting myself…”

“I love you too Y/n, so much…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: low key balling rn…

I didn’t even mean to make it this emotional at the end 😭

I did really like it though I enjoyed writing it..i maybe spent like a few hours..even if it seems short..I think? Lol..I’m writing this before editing

I might write another one of her because I love Cairo sm..maybe I’ll do a Cairo x Winnie or Cairo x Winnie x Fem if y’all are down? 😏

[pandoa]

smile with me!!

where they see you, who is never one to show much emotion, smile for the first time

~feat. cater diamond, azul ashengrotto, rook hunt, and lilia vanrouge~ twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader

~headcanons~

a lot of you guys chose this in the poll i posted earlier, so here it is~ i chose which characters to include btw- have fun lolol

cater diamond sees you smile for the first time when he is mindlessly taking candid photos of the both of you together. it happens when you're looking at the adorable plushies featured at a themed café that had just opened up within the isle of sages. cater had wanted to visit it "for the aesthetics" and decided to bring you along simply for the fun of it. although he would never expect the surprise he felt when he saw a bright smile form on your charming face as he spam-clicked the camera button on his phone, taking random candids of the two of you as your eyes seemed to light up at the small, little plushies that came hugging the straws of your drinks. at first, the young man couldn't believe his eyes; you weren't exactly the type to reveal much emotion, let alone actually smile. but as a light giggle escaped your mouth as you took your own pictures of the soft stuffed animals, cater had realized how lucky—and special—he was for you to be comfortable enough to show your real emotions around him.

"Prefect! Oh my Sevens!"

"Look at these tiny plushies that come with our drinks! They look so so. . . cute?"

"Hm? Oh, it's nothing. The pictures I just took of us came out adorably~"

"Of course I already took photos! You never know when one pic can be the photo that's Magicam-perfect. But don't worry; I won't be posting these on Magicam."

"Why? Because they're too special to showcase to the internet, silly~ Oh yeah! And (Y/n), before I forget—"

"You have a precious smile~"

azul ashengrotto sees you smile when you let out a dazed sigh of satisfaction while performing for an audience at mostro lounge. it was an odd time for you to smile, actually. given the debt you were in with his business, azul was sure you would be anything but happy at the damages your little cat familiar had caused—which was why you were there now, performing in front of an audience full of students to make up for the debt you and grim were inevitably in. although, since it was your final performance for the week, the man supposed a little relief on your part was granted. he just didn't think he'd finally see a wide grin from your usually blank face shine and fill the room as the lounge's spotlight continued to glimmer above you. crowds of applause played throughout the room, whistling of some audience members sang in admiration, and you bowed, satisfied with your final performance. azul had even caught the chatter of some students sitting near him gushing over your radiance on the lounge's makeshift stage. but he had to admit... he, too, felt something small tug within his heart the moment you displayed a smile that could catch the attention of anyone around you. it was strange, but he would consider himself lucky for getting the chance to see it that day.

"Well done today, (Y/n)! Here, have a sip of some water for your efforts—no charge included."

"Sales were especially successful tonight and I am proud to say that if you keep this up, you and Grim will be free of debt sooner than originally planned. I trust that you will keep up the good work."

"Tips left for you are in that jar on top of the counter, along with some comments and notes left by the audience."

"You did well, Prefect."

"Oh and, if you feel comfortable in doing so, please keep on doing what you did today whenever you perform here."

"That smile of yours is very charming, if you did not know."

rook hunt spots a smile slowly escaping the corners of your face as he gently applies a soft shade of lip tint to your lips that matches your complexion. you were on your usual visit to pomefiore—off to go see the eccentric huntsman in his dorm room—when the man had suggested that he give you a little makeover with the new products vil had given him earlier that day. the young hunter seemed quite excited about the whole ordeal, so how could you refuse? giddily sitting you down on a seat in front of his dorm's mirror, rook had begun to apply shades of makeup gradually, delicately holding your face close to his to get a more detailed view of the cosmetics painting your cheeks. the man was completely focused on the strokes of his brush until he caught sight of a small, but enchanting smile, gracing your typically neutral expression when he had been applying a layer of lip tint to your face. any expression—or lack thereof—of yours was already spellbinding to him, but this time it had been different. this time, rook could have sworn he felt all the troubles of the world dissipate into thin air as the room seemed just a bit more brighter with your smiles filling each corner of the hunter's heart, making him endlessly fawn and ramble over how angelic you had looked at that moment.

"Mon ange! My, how most dazzling you are today!"

"Your beauty is always a sight to behold, however, today you are gleaming so incandescently! I must be careful; I may go blind by your shinning glow."

"Surely you see it as well, mon trésor. The way your existence illuminates tenfold whenever you bless the world with your joy."

"Your smile is something I wish to never be taken away from you."

lilia vanrouge catches your smile as he sneaks up to you in surprise, melodic laughter coming from your form following right after. just as he had caught you off guard, he was surprised as well seeing as you had never reacted that expressively the other times he had magically sprung up in front of you, hair oddly hanging from his head and body upside down as lilia's figure floated above you. perhaps it was the adorable way his cheeks had seemed to squish together as it gravitated down to the ground that had caused you to laugh so happily. or perhaps it was the cute, little "boo!" that came out of his lips that made you jump up, pleasantly astounded. either way, whatever reason you had that caused you to be so amused had lilia grinning as well in satisfaction. your rare smile had simply looked so endearing; it was like an unknown force was pushing against the third year—calling him to treasure and protect this emotion of yours at all costs. the specialness of your joy made the heart of this old fae flutter at the loveliness you had shown only to him that day.

"Boo!!"

"Ah, my apologies, Prefect, I did not mean to startle you too mu—"

"Hm? Oh? It's alright? My, that was unexpected, if I may be completely honest."

"Nothing to worry about, dearest (Y/n)~ I just want to engrave this moment into my mind for eternity, hehe."

"Why? To remember the sights of the first smile you had given me, of course~"

"That right there is something quite special to treasure in itself, wouldn't you say so, dear?"

a/n: believe it or not, my motivation for writing this came from people seeing my face for the first time after wearing a mask ever since 2020 (but extremely romanticized ofc lolol)

[vintagerpg]

Looking at some recent RPG books this week starting with this beauty, Caer Mundus: The Lost Realm (2021). It’s a system agnostic attempt to reconstruct a plausible Celtic world for RPGs (the people we call the Celts didn’t write anything down, so what we firmly know about their culture is pretty scant). It’s emphatically psychedelic, with mind-altering substances (particularly mushrooms and red honey) fueling magic, visions and bravery.

There’s a ton of tools in the book: dogs, horses, heroic rivals, a system for tracking acclaim (and social stigma), tables galore. There are templates that present Celtic versions of Bards, Druids, Rangers and Warriors that can be laid over most system’s character creation systems. There are, of course, many spirits and monsters derived from the surviving mythologies of the British Isles (selkies, dullahan, coraniaid and so on).

Perhaps the most interesting part of the book is the epic quest line, the Song of the Blaze Above. It begins with an omen of apocalypse, which spurs the three old kings to attempt to purge the ellyllon, a sort of fae culture that has co-existed with humanity. The quest sees the players recruited to unite the three kingdoms (installing new kings if necessary) in order to prepare for the coming battle with the true threat: an army of ogres (who, through their naming, are highly implied to be Romans, at least metaphorically). That battle has three potential flavors: one where humanity can triumph, one where humanity is doomed and one where the ogres are a red herring and the fae are the true threat after all. It’s neat to have all the events mapped out, and pretty clear how you can map them to a system of your choice. Along the way, characters grow from scrawny whelps to epic heroes. There’s an Afanc. What more could you possibly want?

Grim and gritty art throughout, in the vein of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, but slightly lighter and more realistic. You can catch glimmers of a way of life here. The cover is by Sawblade, whose art has decorated many a death metal album cover. My pal Darkwizard Berserker did the logo.

[clare-875]

Burnt Scarlet (Sugawara x Reader)

_____

Pairing: Sugawara x Reader Summary: You make Sugawara flustered. Warnings: fluff Note: The above image does NOT belong to me [Haikyuu Masterlist]

_____

Sugawara wondered if there was ever going to be a sight that could top the one in front of him now. Then he stopped himself and ripped himself free of that thought; because it was stupid. There would never be anything as beautiful, anything as captivating, anything as perfect as you. You. You dressed in a flowy summer dress, the gentle breeze making your hair shine beneath the golden sun; You smiling up at him lips curved upwards and painted ruby red; You and your radiant eyes looking only to him. His heart pounds against his chest, he feels the heat rise in his face, and before he knows it he's facing away from you. You, confused at the sight of him turning away so abruptly look up to him through your eyelashes in confusion just as Sugawara tries to find the courage to look at you once more. His mistake. He tries to hide his face but he feels it, the burn of scarlet that paints his expression.

"Kou, you okay?"

He flusters more at the sound of your sweet voice calling his name, a tinge of worry within the midst of your words; all for him. "Y-yeah, I'm fine." You frown slightly at the sight of him still unturning from where he stood and wonder just what had gotten into him. But you decide to take things into your own hands, literally. You grab him by his right wrist holding it gently but surely and drag him forward towards town where the two of you were going to hang out for the day. "Good, then let's get going!" You smile encouragingly at the man who looks up, eyes widening at the sight of you once more. The sight of your glimmering smile, the adoration etched in your eyes and upon your face. The scarlet remains in place but he finds himself nodding as though in a trance, he would later beat himself up for not complimenting the beautiful outfit you put together; all for him.

"Oh my gosh Kou, look!" He turns at the excitement that laced your tone, the urgency in your hold as you pull him towards a section of the store seemingly covered with all things cute and fluffy. The both of you were now at a mall and had been wandering the isles for several moments. He looked down at your hold. Within it were two matching keychains, almost identical to each other albeit the difference in colour of the ribbon that adorned the small plush attached. "We could be matching!" Your voice is light and bright, and your eyes are filled with joy. Sugawara finds himself nodding before he even registers the words coming out of your mouth. He feels the churn of his heart against his chest, the burning feeling of his face. You would be the death of him. "Yeah, I'll go buy them for us."

His grasp is quick and he takes the keychains from your hold with ease and a swiftness you could not rebuke before he rushes for the cashier who looks up surprised at their determined customer. You look up blankly at his sudden absence and his almost instinctual agreement to buy what you had suggested. Sugawara feels himself flush at his blatant show of weakness to you, but then he is blessed with your airy laugh and a soft hand on his shoulder. "I could've got that you know." He feels the burning of scarlet once more uptake his features as he looks at your hands that gently take one of the keychains he had brought, securing it to your phone. "I-I know," Sugawara murmurs, before taking his own keychain and securing it to his own device. You grin at his obvious shyness grabbing his hand in your hold again as Sugawara feels himself come to life at just your touch. "Let's go!"

The next moment the two of you are at a movie theatre watching a horror movie you should've known would never be good. Although Sugawara feels the shiver down his spine at the scary flux of events on the screen he is almost content just by the tight hold you have on his arm. He feels the warmth of your skin against his, the softness of hair as you basically hug to death his right limb. He knows he should be terrified by the gruelling images in front of him, but instead, he feels like he's in heaven when he looks down on you. The pride he feels that you trust him to look after you even when you're not in any danger is immeasurable. He tries to ease your tension with a teasing comment, "It's not real you know," but then you look up to him glossy eyes and all, a heavy pout on your lips. "But it looks so real." The burn reaches his face again as he notices the proximity of you before you turn back to the screen letting out a muffled yell, oblivious to his mess of emotions.

After the movie he holds your hand in his and fights away the flush of his face to try to put you to comfort; ice cream usually does the trick. He pats your head gently as you sit down at a table and he says he'll be back with your treats soon. You smile up at him gratefully and Sugawara again has to hide his face just so you don't notice the ease of influence you have over him. He tries to be quick, easily having memorised your favourite, now picking out his own. As he waits for his order, his gaze moves fully to you once more. He wonders how he ever got so lucky to learn that his long-term crush felt the same way. He wonders how he ever got so lucky to get a girl as beautiful and perfect as you. His mind wonders only to be awoken by your hand waving to him. He looks up, lost in your gaze as he tries to wave back only to see you laugh. "No, Kou, the ice-creams!" He turns abruptly to see that the cashier has been waiting with his order for several moments now. He feels the burn of scarlet as he quickly apologises and pays before rushing back to you.

He feels the heavy torment of your gaze upon him as he sits down in front of you, but you merely smile and gather the cool treat in your hands thanking the man. "What were you thinking about?" He looks up meeting your wondering gaze, the questioning tilt of your head as he rushes to reply. "W-what?" You laugh breathlessly before shaking your head. "Seriously though, you've been acting strange all day, is something wrong?" Your mind paces through the events of your date, at each moment you tried to catch his eyes he would face away, at every touch you felt his grip tighten slightly and felt the growing warmth of his skin. Sugawara sees the crease between your eyebrows and panic now rushes through him at the sight of your worry for him, now beating himself up for being so distracted, just by your presence. "N-no, I'm sorry you're just- you're just so beautiful today and-" He struggles to strangle together a response and you watch the fight as amusement now lingers at the sight of his flustered state. You lean forward and Sugawara barely has the time to stop his rambling before you surprise him with a soft kiss to his lips.

"Koushi, you do realise we've been dating for six months now."

The burnt scarlet upon his face only grows. 

[malisorn]

✉ || 𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary | Aemond and his way of showing you his love through gifts. And one time where you showed your love back to him ๋࣭ ⭑

Warnings & Suggestions | No warnings at all, Soft!Aemond, Fluff, Happy Marriage, No physical description of reader

Notes | Another sweet and soft fluff to rot your tooth.

A necklace of gold, each pendant is either amethyst or sapphire, alternating and complimenting each other at the same time. They are glimmering, beautiful and daring-

“Do you like it?” you looked up to him, realized that you have been staring at the necklace far too long, a sentence barely formed in your thought “It's…… you shouldn't have, it's too-” It's unduly, especially for the first courting between you and the prince. “It'd match you well, my lady.” Worry runs across your body until his hands touch your hair, placing a necklace on your neck. Now, you are blushing hard “Thank you, my prince.” 

Moons have passed and soon enough, you will wed your future husband in the holy place of Grand Sept. You find it hard to sleep, thinking of every little things. Aemond has been kind to you ever since the first courting, showering you with gifts of the greatest value. The jewelry hanging on your dressing table is a proof of it. You couldn't help but worry that all this gesture would disappear the second you married him.

As you fell into a deep sleep, you dreamed of dragons. You recognize Vhagar from the large size and the mighty face. Beside Vhagar was an ivory dragon of a smaller size, yet the air around that beautiful dragon brightened everything. There was gold tracing around. You've never read or seen any dragons like this in real life. The two creatures are flying together through the highest sky, sounds of roaring and wings clapping wake you up to the early morning. You think of the dream as you prepare for the day. Once you are done, you quickly make your way to Aemond and tell him of the dream, how captivating it is that you wished to be stuck there for eternity. 

On the wedding night, while you wait for your husband patiently. He comes in and takes you to a mysterious chest with dragons carved on the surface. You gasped at the sight of the creamy-and-gold dragon egg. It was stoned and old, yet the scales were exactly how you saw in your dream. “How did you get this?” your fingers traced the egg's scales, just like the dream. “A merchant sold me this in a great deal, it was stolen and stoned but it's still beautiful.” his hands reach your waist to hold you tight. “Such a coincidence it is, must have been a good sign for our marriage” you smile at his thoughtfulness, “Thank you, my husband.”

As the wedding passed, your marriage has turned into everything you have dreamed of. You and your husband have spent time together more freely. You told him about your interests, especially flowers, how pleasant you felt when you looked at them or how proud it is to plant and water them as they grew and bloom. It's like all your worries being blown away by the soft wind. But he doesn't seem as interested in it, so you try to keep it to yourself.

Failed, you keep mentioning them, how you heard there was a talking tree and even a talking bird in the Summer Isles, how there were the most exotic roses anyone could find in the maze of Highgarden, how you wanted to see all of them in person or at least read more about them. It keeps going and you thought you had annoyed him until your name day.

He brings you a book of plants, flowers and trees ranging from the most common to the rarest. It tells all about their origins, symbolism and their own unique story. It was heavy and thick, the cover was carved in the shape of flowers. “I have Maester Orwyle found this for you, one of the oldest books in the Citadel, it was not an easy process, sweet wife of mine.” You couldn't believe he could get this for you. “Though this would not be the only gift from me.” your husband's words confused you a bit until you saw the look he gave you. “Thank you, Aemond.”

What a blessing it has been. Your marriage is fortunate to be full of love. Your husband did his duty as well as he cared deeply for you. You wore the jewelry he gave you, the silks imported from the furthest lands, the book in your hand for your name day. You were spoiled rotten and an idea crossed your mind.

He would've loved it, it would've been amazing. You keep thinking about it. This week, you've been distancing yourself from Aemond as you prepare the gift for him.

You requested a private supper with only your husband and you. He didn't question at first, but he was obviously eager to know why you suddenly wanted to have a private meal. When he arrives, you keep smiling at him, blushing at his words and it all ends when he rises. “Why a private supper?” You rise after him. “I just wanted a quiet time between us, that's all.” It is not a good lie and he doesn't seem convinced. “Tell me.” his tone is clear that whatever it is that you try to hide, you have to stop. “Fine” you groaned and took his hand as you lead your husband to the gift.

“I am not sure if you would like it but I wanted to let you know that I love you too. And you did so well, trying to show it to me.” You said to him as you brought out the gift. He instantly knew what it was and, undeniably, he softly smiled.

A Longsword made of Dragonglass, sharp and light. On the hilt was a gemstone of Sapphire, to match his left-eye. All was jet black but at the heart of the sword was brightened with blue stone. It was simple, perfectly made just for him and it meant everything.

“Do you like it?” he looked up to you. You look like an angel from this view. He nodded, finding it hard to express himself in words. You immediately hug him, “Be careful!” He shouted as the sword still lays on him. You didn't seem to care though, he simply accepted your warm embrace. What has he done to deserve you? To have someone beside him who cares this much. There are many moments in which he knew he had to protect you, but in this second, he vowed he would burn everything down if anyone dared to touch you and he would go across the known world just to see your smile. “Thank you, my love.”

masterlist for more

images' credits ๋࣭ ⭑

Casket of jewels on a table principally of German Origin - Pieter Gerritsz. van Roestraten

The Marquise de Pezay, and the Marquise de Rougé with Her Sons Alexis and Adrien - Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

Pronk Still Life with Holbein Bowl, Nautilus Cup, Glass Goblet and Fruit Dish - Willem Kalf

[dabiconcordia]

The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core. by William Butler Yeats

[descendant-of-evil]

Under Her Shadow| Gil LeGume

Pairing: Platonic!Gil x Mal's Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,667

Trigger warning: this story contains themes of emotional neglect and family dysfunction.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a one-shot, so please don't be too harsh on me...

Summary: Basically it's a sad & lonely-reader meeting and befriending the ball-of-sunshine that is Gil LeGume...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

You stand in a secluded alley on the Isle of the Lost, watching as Mal and her friends wreak havoc on the poor inhabitants of this forsaken place. You are Mal's younger sister, but it often feels like you don't even exist to your own mother, Maleficent, who openly favors Mal over you, always praising her older daughter's every move and putting her on a pedestal. Meanwhile, you are left in the shadows, feeling invisible and unwanted.

You watch as Mal struts around with her new friends, Jay, Evie, and Carlos. They are now the most infamous gang of Vks on the İsle, known as the "Core Four", and Mal is the leader. They’ve been inseparable since going on that crazy quest (that you weren’t part of) to retrieve Maleficent’s scepter: The Dragon’s Eye.

As you see them all laughing and joking together, a bitter wave of loneliness washes over you (despite knowing that deep down, you'll never fit in with them, no matter how hard you try). You have no one to talk to, no one to confide in, and no one to call a friend.

You try to approach Mal, to see if she'll pay any attention to you, but she brushes you off with a wave of her hand. She's too busy with her new friends, and you're just an afterthought. As the day wears on, you find yourself feeling more and more isolated. You watch as Mal and her friends plan their next scheme, and you know you'll never be a part of it.

Eventually, you decide to wander off on your own. You find yourself in the docks, sitting on a barrel, feeling sorry for yourself. You can't help but wonder why your mother doesn't love you as much as she loves Mal. What did you do wrong?

As you sit there, lost in your thoughts, a shadow falls over you. You look up to see a boy standing in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest. It's Gil LeGume, son of Gaston.

"What are you doing here all alone?" he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You shrug your shoulders, not really knowing how to answer.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face.

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. "No," you whisper.

Gil sits down beside you, and you're surprised at how comfortable you feel around him. You've always been too disgusted by Gaston and his sons to talk to them, but Gil seems different.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice soft.

Trusting your instincts, you take a deep breath and tell him everything. About how Maleficent favors Mal over you, about how you feel invisible and unwanted. About how you're always left out and never included.

Gil listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours. When you're finished, he puts his arm around you, and you lean into him. It's the first time in a long time that you've felt comforted.

"You know," Gil says, "Blood-Family isn't everything. You don't need the approval of your mother to be happy."

You look up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that you shouldn't have to strive to be like Mal, for Maleficent’s approval. You don't have to follow in her footsteps. You can be your own person, and make your own choices. You can do whatever you want and be whomever you want to be… That’s what İ did and İ’ve never been happier."

You nod, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long time. Maybe he's right. Maybe you don't have to be in Mal's shadow forever.

Gil stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. "Come on," he says, "Let's go to Ursula’s Fish and Chips, I heard that the fries are on discount today."

You smile, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. Maybe today isn't so bad after all. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find your own place in the world, away from Mal's shadow.

As you and Gil walk through the Isle of the Lost, you start to see things in a different light. You notice people and places that you've never seen before, and you begin to realize that there's a whole world outside of Mal's group.

You and Gil sit on a bench, eating your chips and talking about everything and nothing. You tell him about your favorite things, like reading and drawing, and he tells you about his love for pirating and sports.

It's the first time in a long time that you've had a real conversation with someone, and you realize how much you've been missing out on.

When the sun starts to set, Gil walks you back to your home. You thank him for spending time with you, and he gives you a smile that makes your heart flutter.

As you walk into your house, you're surprised to see Maleficent waiting for you. She looks angry, and you feel a pang of fear in your chest.

"Where have you been, Y/N?" she demands, her eyes narrowed.

"I was just out," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Out where?" she snaps.

"Just around," you say, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

Maleficent glares at you for a few more seconds before storming off, leaving you standing there, feeling small and insignificant.

You walk up to your room, closing the door behind you. You sit on your bed, staring at the wall, feeling tears sting your eyes. You thought maybe things were going to change, but now you feel like you're right back where you started.

As the night wears on, you can hear Mal and her friends laughing and having fun outside your window. You try to ignore them, but their voices carry, taunting you with their happiness.

You pull your blanket up around your shoulders, feeling alone and forgotten. You try to remind yourself of what Gil said earlier, that you don't need to be like Mal or her friends, that you can make your own choices.

But it's hard to believe that when you feel so unloved and unwanted.

Eventually, you fall asleep, but your dreams are plagued with visions of Mal and Maleficent, both of them looking down on you with disdain.

When you wake up in the morning, you feel drained and exhausted. You don't want to face another day of feeling like you don't belong.

But then you remember Gil's words, and you decide to try to take his advice. You grab a notebook and start to write, letting your imagination run wild.

As the day wears on, you find yourself getting lost in your poetry, forgetting about the world outside your bedroom window.

You're surprised when you hear a knock on the balcony of your window. You look up to see Gil standing there, a shy smile on his face.

"Hey," he says, "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out again today?"

You smile, feeling warmth in your chest. Maybe things are starting to change after all.

Together, you and Gil explore the Isle of the Lost, discovering new places and things to do. You feel like you're finally starting to find your own place in the world, as your own person.

As the sun starts to set, you and Gil sit on a rooftop overlooking the Isle of the Lost. You talk about everything and nothing, and you realize how much you've come to value his friendship.

"You know," Gil says, "You're pretty fun to hang out with."

You laugh, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Thanks," you say, feeling a happiness that you haven't felt in a long time.

As the night wears on, you and Gil walk back to your house. You say goodnight, feeling a sense of contentment that you haven't felt in a long time.

But as soon as you open the door to your house, that sense of contentment disappears. Maleficent is waiting for you, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"Where have you been, this time?" she demands.

You feel a knot form in your stomach as you try to come up with an answer. "Out with a friend," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Maleficent glares at you, her eyes narrowing. "Out with a friend? Fool! Villains don't have friends, only allies… Your sister is a leader with three minions, why can’t you be more like her?" she says, her voice dripping with disdain.

You feel tears sting your eyes as you realize that nothing has changed. Maleficent still sees you as inferior to Mal, and nothing you do can change that.

But then you remember Gil's words, and you find a newfound strength inside of you. You stand up straighter, looking Maleficent in the eye.

"I'm my own person," you say, your voice steady. "I don't need to be like Mal to be happy."

Maleficent's expression softens for a moment, but then it hardens again. "You'll never be as good as Mal," she says, her voice cold.

You feel a sense of defeat wash over you as Maleficent walks away, leaving you standing there, alone and forgotten once again.

But then you remember the happiness you felt with Gil, and you realize that you don't need Maleficent's approval to be happy. You have your own interests and your own passions, and you don't need to live in Mal's shadow anymore.

From that moment on, you start to embrace your own identity. You spend most of your time with Gil, exploring the Isle of the Lost and discovering new things. You draw and read and write, finding joy in the things that make you unique.

And even though Maleficent still sees you as inferior to Mal, you now know that you don't need her approval to be happy. You have your own place in the world, away from Mal's shadow, and you've finally embraced the fact that you don't need to be anyone but yourself to be happy…

[zareleonis]

feels like everyone else has moved on but i'm still permanently stuck on "Now that my magic is spent, / Please, O judge, lift the chains from my soul! / Never again consign me to dance alone upon this lonely isle. / My last glimmer of hope I offer up to you."