#over the mountain journal library

[notepok]

Over the Mountain Journal | Birmingham Alabama

Over the Mountain Journal | Birmingham Alabama

Over the Mountain Journal | Birmingham Alabama Over the Mountain Journal is a unique suburban newspaper written and organized specifically for our readers in Mountain Brook, Homewood, Vestavia Hills, Hoover and North Shelby County. We deliver the Journal to 40,000 Over the Mountain Homes every other week. With our editorial emphasis on people, social events, schools, homes, sports and more, we…

[haunted-moon]

Long Way Home [Part III]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part III

A few months later, Star fall was to commence soon. 

Excitement was in the air, and I was looking forward to it too. Rhysand and Feyre were going to host a party, and preparations were already underway. Everyone pitched in to help between their usual duties, chattering about the outfits, the food, song and dance.

Mor and Feyre repeatedly asked me about my outfit for the event. I remained evasive, since I had no plans of actually attending the party. I'd be watching the sky from elsewhere. Even though I helped with the preparations as if I was going to attend, I was gradually emptying my quarters and shifting my things to an isolated property outside the city. This property was situated in a river valley backed by the large mountains surrounding Velaris. It was an inheritance passed down in our family, and I had remodelled the villa and the gardens with the help of my dad. It was a perfect place to avoid others, and I loved it very much. Father, on the other hand, didn't like to be alone for long periods of time and didn't visit it much. 

While I was still in the process of shifting my things, I started sleeping less in the nights. I stayed awake at the kitchen table with a hot cup of tea, working my anatomy drawings or study notes. The one thing I'd miss when I left was the library, so I tried to make extensive notes and copied important paragraphs from the books I read. 

One night, I decided on a change of scenery and took my materials to one of the many balconies, making myself comfortable on the thick carpet. As usual, I had some tea in my favourite cup and lots of lamps to illuminate my work. 

I had placed the tea-cup along with a glass jar of coloured pencils on a side table so that I wouldn't accidentally knock them off with my elbow. Leaning against the balcony railing, I was copying a detailed anatomical diagram of an Illyrian wing in my journal. 

A sudden gust of wind knocked over the table and shattered the tea-cup and glass jar. I jumped, dropping my journal as I watched the carpet soak up my drink and pencils scattered everywhere. My favourite cup was broken to fragments. 

Azriel appeared before I had the time to think what to do next. 

"Oh, sorry," he pointed at the shattered pieces.

I sighed. The glass jar could be replaced, but the tea-cup was from one of a collection set of my mother's. It hadn't broken into very tiny pieces, though. Maybe I could put it back together, even if it couldn't be used. I could use another cup for drinking and keep this one back in its shelf. 

I unfolded a drawstring pouch from my pocket and gathered all the pieces. Azriel helped by collecting the remains of the glass jar and the scattered pencils. The tea stain on the carpet couldn't be helped.

He didn't leave immediately after we finished, so I offered him a cup of tea while I brewed some for myself. He accepted, and soon enough, we had our own mugs of the hot liquid and sitting next to each other on the balcony floor, looking out into the night.

He cleared his throat. "That cup was important to you."

I nodded. A tendril of his shadow flickered near his neck, and slipped out of sight. "It's from a set that belonged to my mother."

His expression dropped from his usual polite blankness. "I'm truly sorry. If there's any way I can help fix—"

I held up a hand. "It's alright. I'll fix it by myself later on."

I was curious as to why he had appeared here. He had never actually come to a place I was in out of his own volition. I asked him about it.

He did not give a direct answer. "You weren't there in the kitchen. I was looking for you everywhere."

I fell silent, turning over his reply in my mind, unsure of how to proceed. Meanwhile, he laid down his mug and picked up the journal I used for sketching. This journal in particular was just pages and pages of anatomical Illyrian wings with the parts labelled and side information. I had drawn them in every possible angle and technique I could think of. 

He slowly thumbed through the pages, his own wings slightly trembling in the breeze. 

"These are really accurate," he commented as he stopped at one of the pages. His eyebrows went up, and I leaned over a bit to see what he was looking at. 

It was a shaded sketch of a pair of hands, with the palms turned up. And they had scars on them. Azriel's hands, which I had drawn one feverish night from memory. Fuck. 

I straightened, cupping my own mug with both hands and intensely staring at it, determined not to face him or acknowledge the drawing. My ears and neck turned hot with embarrassment. He stayed on that page for a long time before closing the journal and carefully keeping it on the carpet between us. 

"Why the wings?" He asked after a while. 

I shrugged. "I miss having them."

"What happened?"

I narrowed a side glance at him. "I'm sure you know what happened."

One corner of his mouth tipped up. "I do. But I'd like to hear the account from you."

I shrugged. "Nothing much to tell. Father was sent on a mission. Mother was already dead by that time and he had to take me with him since there was nobody else at the time to look after me. The task went wrong, and the enemy soldiers ripped off both our wings and left us to die. Only, we were somehow revived and brought back to life. It was quite a while before I learned how to properly balance myself without my wings."

"This was during the war, yes?"

"Yes."

He turned to me and gave me a once-over. "Your mother was not Illyrian."

I nodded. "She was a high fae from the Summer Court. It's a thing in our family's ancestry. We come from a long line of powerful healers, and not all our mates are Illyrian. She survived my birth, even with my wings, but she died during the second along with the child."

Noticing the sadness that crept into my voice, he changed the subject by pointing at my journal. "Why my hands?"

I blushed, turning away from his inquisitive gaze. "I find them beautiful, that's all."

He opened his mouth to reply, but stood up abruptly, his head cocked to the side as if listening to something. 

"I have to go."

Going like this only meant one thing. "Is Elaine in need of help?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears.

He was on his way to one of the archways, and halted mid-stride. "Yes. Why?"

I shook my head, motioning for him to leave. "It's nothing. Go on. Don't let me keep you."

He took a step towards me. "But—"

"Just go."

He left.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

I took a nap right there on the carpet until the early morning rays warmed my skin. When I was awake, I started gathering all my things to go back to my room. Cassian appeared and waved at me as I stood up, my arms weighed down with the books and the empty mugs. 

"Good morning, my chicken soup."

I laughed. "Morning, Cassian."

During my stay, Cassian had once fallen ill with a stomach problem and wouldn't eat anything and spat out the medicine. I mixed all the herbal concoction in some chicken soup, its flavours masking the bitterness of the herbs and fed it to him until he was better. From then on, he started calling me his chicken soup and always came to me in case of injuries and other illnesses. 

He took some of my books and started walking me to my quarters. "I've fetched you breakfast, its in your room."

"Thanks."

When we reached my room, we unloaded our things on a table and I sat on a chair, keeping the breakfast tray on my lap. He took a seat on my bed and thoughtfully chewed on a piece of fruit. 

His wings were gently fluttering and I couldn't stop staring. 

"How does it feel to fly?" I asked in a low voice. My wings were ripped before I could do so.

His eyes softened. What happened to me and father was not a secret, everyone knew about it. He suddenly grinned as if he had a great idea. 

"What if I show you, instead of describing it?"

I didn't know what to say. "Um, I don't know, I'm a pretty chubby woman, I might be too heavy for you to—"

He groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on. I will be put to shame if I can't carry you!" He stood up. "Finish your breakfast. I'll take you right now."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Tags:

@kalulakunundrum

@thelov3lybookworm

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 4 here.

Thank you for all the responses to my previous two parts of the story!

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[warden-melli]

I find your headcannons really interesting and wanted to know if you had any other headcannons you haven't shared before

Thank you ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ Honestly I have more headcanons that I haven’t shared than ones that I have lol (I assume you mean pokemon/pla/Melli hcs)

I’d be happy to share some right now, but let me know if there’s any particular character/topic that you’d be interested in hearing about? Sorry if I’ve shared some of these before, but I can’t remember 100% what I have/haven’t shared before lol

PLA HEADCANONS

• While Adaman is several years older than Irida, their birthdays fall on the same day of the month, exactly 6 moths apart

• If Irida hadn’t become leader of her clan she would have pursued a career as a healer, specifically focused on traditional Hisuian herbal medicine

• Melli spends a lot of time on Mt Coronet practicing his singing. As all of his pokemon are nocturnal he often heads up there at night where he can sing undisturbed. Sometimes he sings songs with words, but often he’ll just vocalise, practicing his highs notes to no one in particular. His voice is beautiful, but can be quite eerie without context, especially to frightened travellers trying to cross the mountain range at night. He is unknowingly (yet directly) responsible for many a ghost story told across the Hisui region. Melli rejects these tales of so called spirits and disembodied voices that echo across the highlands, insisting that he’s up there all the time and has never seen or heard a thing!

• In addition to his role as Warden Iscan is also the Diamond clans head fisherman and is essential to keeping his clan fed, especially over the harsh winters. He writes journals full of poetry and stories while out on the shoreline, often inspired by traditional tales, as well as his observations of the land and the adventures he witnesses across it. Many of his works will one day end up on display in the Canalave library in modern Sinnoh

• Gaeric is actually quite a bit older than he looks. In addition to his position as warden he is also in charge of gathering wood and timber for the Pearl clan, and has an eye for finding the most high quality trees. He was taught all he knows by his mother, who previously held the position before retiring from logging. She is now in charge of replanting the trees that are cut down so that the balance of nature in Hisui is preserved

• While Irida had Palina as a rival when they were both competing for the title of leader, Adaman’s bid for the position went completely unchallenged, with no one else from his clan putting their name up for consideration. He took over the title directly from his grandfather, who was the previous leader of the Diamond Clan

• Sabi is a orphan, and her pokemon partners were directly inherited from her parents. Instead of having a sibling relationship with her pokemon (which is typical for people of the Hisuian clans) they watch over her in more of a parental way, protecting her fiercely as if she were their own

• Ingo refuses to part with his hat and coat, no matter how damaged and tattered they become after enduring years of sneasel claws. While he can’t remember his past at all, bits and pieces subconsciously come through. It’s these subconscious memories of the battling rules and formats from his previous life which leads to Ingo accidentally “inventing” the modern battling systems/rules that would later become adopted across most regions in the future. Classic bootstrap paradox. Ingo learned to battle in the future > falls to the past and “invents” the modern battle system using memories from the present > then one day many years in the future Ingo learns the modern battle system > falls to the past and…. You get the idea lol

I have a ton more to share, so let me know if you’d like to hear more ˙ᵕ˙

[mumms-the-word]

For apprecimaytion: 10

Me: maybe I’ll write something for someone other than Gale

Also me: *sees the prompt is poetry* well frick how can I do anyone other than Gale it’s POETRY

Gonna do a smallish copout and use some of the poems from @sorceresssundries Gale’s Poetry Journal 👀 one she wrote for Dani and one I wrote for Gale. I’m not going to post the whole poems but I’ll link them!

Edit: Also I’ve been informed that this event is meant to be written about other people’s Tavs and Durges but consider this post my appreciation of @sorceresssundries’s poetic works 🥰

~*~*~

Dani lay with her arms folded behind her head on her bedroll, watching the afternoon clouds float by, dusted in gold and pink. They’d decided to make camp early, since tomorrow they’d be investigating the mountain pass, looking for Lae’zel’s alleged crèche. But Dani was bored. More than anything, she wished she had a good book. A good smutty book, perhaps.

She sat up, eyeing the library rock and the books stacked up there. Since starting this journey, their library of books had grown, sometimes stowed away in a chest that seemed infinitely deep, and sometimes, like today, scattered about on a surface. Gale had come through a short while ago, pulling out books and leaving them in stacks, apparently in search of something specific, before leaving the haphazard collection on the rock to disappear into his tent. She hadn't seen him for the better part of an hour.

She got up and approached the rock, scanning the books for a familiar title. A tawdry tale about Balduran, perhaps, or even some of the kids' stories they’d gotten from the Grove. But her eyes landed, instead, on a book she hadn’t seen before. It was a leather-bound book with no title on the spine and a generic pattern pressed into the cover. Curious, she picked it up and began to flick through the pages.

A journal, she realized. A journal of poetry. Her eyes scanned the handwritten lines with interest, absorbed by the words. They were beautiful, intricate, haunting….familiar.

It struck her all at once whose handwriting this was.

She flicked her gaze over to Gale’s tent, but he had yet to emerge. She bit her lip against a smile and set the journal aside, finding a blank page from a different book to tear out and quickly write down a poem on. The words had lingered in her head for a while, with her mulling over how to turn them into a song but always hitting a snag. Maybe it was never meant to be a song. Maybe, she realized, it was meant to be a little note.

O to be a book in his hands…

For the last couple of days, they'd been flirting and teasing each other. For the last couple of days, she'd tried to encourage him to abandon his reservations and simply live. She understood his concerns. The orb, of course, and all the danger around them. But even so, she found him compelling. Handsome. Intelligent. Funny. Kind. Try as he might to place a little distance between them, she kept pursuing.

That wasn't what she wrote about, of course. Try as she might, she was a witty cynic more than she was a romantic. Even here, her poetry, though lyrical, had an edge to it. A teasing throughline. A bit of cheeky wit and playful feigned innocence.

This was a poem about man holding a book, and nothing more.

At least, on the surface.

She closed her eyes and focused on the image of a book in Gale's hands. His long fingers cradling the spine and cover. His dark eyes focusing on the page. She opened her eyes and kept writing, until at last she reached the final stanza.

to witness from below the touch of his tongue to his fingertip which he guides to the corner and slips between the folds and with a practiced flick turns over the leaf and smooths it down with the flat of his palm

She smiled to herself, scanning over the lines. A rustling sound, like tent fabric movement, caught her attention and she quickly folded the parchment and tucked it into some of the back pages of the journal. It didn't matter when he read it. It was enough to know that it was there.

She grabbed a book at random and returned to her bedroll.

---

She didn't see the journal again for days. They'd journeyed through the shadow cursed lands and come out the other side victorious in several ways, and she was eager to be back in her beloved city. But they weren't there yet, resulting in one more night out in the wilderness.

She and Gale had made it a habit now to bed down together. If they even bothered pitching more than one tent, it was usually with the two of them close enough that they might as well be one tent.

She laid back in his embrace, with him propped up on several pillows, idly writing down lyrics in a journal that she had acquired some time ago. Songs that she knew well, but wanted to keep in a personal songbook. A few new songs, too, but those were in scattered notes at the back. Gale rested his chin on her shoulder, watching her write for a moment before he finally turned his head and kissed her cheek.

"My love, can I show you something?" he asked softly.

"Hm? What is it?"

He reached over to grab something and then set down over top of her journal. She recognized his poetry journal instantly. It looked worse for wear, the leather creased, the edges of the pages dinged and dirty, but she knew it was his journal. She'd been hoping to see it again for some time now. She feigned surprise and looked up at him.

"What is this?"

"Don't play coy," he said, smirking faintly at her. "You know exactly what this is." He indicated a small bookmark, little more than a fraying ribbon. "Go on, open it. There's something I want you to read."

She opened the book to the page he had saved, finding herself faced with his handwriting again. Where before some of his poems had been written in a slightly erratic, yet elegant hand, this one was written carefully and clearly.

A Sonnet for the Bard

She looked up at him again, surprised, but he merely smiled warmly at her and indicated the page with his eyes. A hint to keep reading. She settled back against him, whispering the words to herself as she read.

Till now I was lost, sound-starved by sorrow, Future left quiet by unholy choice.

Her eyes started to get a little misty despite herself, but she kept reading, the beautiful words washing over her. He spoke of gods and fate, songs and rescues. He spoke of her.

You are a lyric, echoing outwards…I was near drowned, and you sang me a rope…

She remembered all too easily the way he'd struggled with Mystra's order. How she had been indignant at the command, even impatient with him for considering it. She thought she had come across as unfeeling, but here she realized otherwise. Her convictions about wanting him to stay alive, to find a better way, had been a lifeline to him.

She blinked away the rest of her few tears to focus on the last lines of the sonnet, feeling her heart swell with love for the man behind her, whose arms were around her even now.

Even in silence, my heart strums along, Tuned to the bard with a soul made of song.

A soul made of song...gods, he was such a romantic.

"Gale," she said, turning to look at him. "When did you write this?"

"Oh, a few days ago," he said, shrugging. "Amazing what a night together with someone you love can do for the creative faculties, don't you think?"

"Don't be so modest," she laughed. She set their journals aside and turned to straddle him, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. "It was beautiful. You have a gift for poetry, you know."

"I wouldn't say that," he said, though his smile suggested that he was quite proud of her compliments. "I just dabble here and there."

"Shut up and take the compliment, love," she murmured, bringing her lips to his and kissing him so he couldn't quibble about talent anymore. She continued to kiss him, sweet and slow, eventually whispering, "Thank you. I love it. I love you."

"And I love you, my songstress," he murmured in return. He pulled back to smile up at her. "Believe me, this is but the first of many poems I plan to write for and about you."

She laughed. "Watch it, or you'll make this a competition, and it's unwise to compete in a battle of words with a bard."

"If it means reading more of your poetry, then I willingly accept the challenge."

She looked at him with surprise. She had almost forgotten about the poem she wrote ages ago. She wasn't sure she could even remember the words anymore. "So you knew it was from me?"

"Who else could it have been from? Withers?"

She laughed at that and leaned in to kiss him. "You caught me. I'd almost forgotten about that silly poem." She pulled back to look at him again, her linked hands behind his neck keeping her from falling backward. "Will you read it to me? Or read some of your other poems to me?"

"Are you sure that is a wise idea?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. A challenge, not a cautionary statement. "If I recall, your poem, at least, was a little...sensual."

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling," she said, grinning. "I was just writing about a book." He gave her a look that said he didn't believe her for a second but she simply kissed him again, whispering a quiet, "Please? Read for me?"

She felt his amused sigh against her lips. "Very well," he murmured back in between kisses. "I can deny you nothing."

Pleased that he had accepted, she untangled herself from him and resumed her earlier position, laying back against him, her body stretched out between his legs and against his chest, snuggling close for a private poetry reading.

~*~*~

no edits we die like men okay thank you goodbye

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter four: FORGET my NAME

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: mentions of religious sacrifice, supernatural themes

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously, I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know. 

If no one was going to tell me what the hell was wrong with the people here and their fascination with some ghost story, I was going to find out myself.

Frustratingly, the camera was a flop. I had tested it out first with Nick, who had been cheeky and flipped it off when he triggered the censor. But my apples vanished at some point in the night without triggering the camera. After a few nights of that, I set it to record regardless of motion. My result was the camera glitching at 3 in the morning, and not coming back online until half an hour later.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was like they knew the camera was there.

By wednesday, I was almost fed up with the whole thing. When Nick and I texted, I vented my frustrations, but there wasn't a lot he could do since he was in Richmond. After his ominous message in his driveway, he wouldn't talk about the subject; stating it was because of Granny and the possibility of her overhearing. Then he would distract me by almost quite literally dangling a cat in front of me.

Honestly, I think Jerry had more to say than the whole town combined.

Thursday, I was practically bouncing off the walls with how bored I was. I wanted to work on the house, but Nick wanted to help this weekend. I told myself I wanted to wait because then he would be over more, and… I wanted to hang out with him.

I hadn't realized how lonely I was until I came out here. Most of my so-called friends had really been Mike's, and once he was… gone, they vanished. I hadn't had my own friend in several years, and now that I had one, I almost wanted to cling onto him. Like he would vanish if I let him go.

But because he wasn't there, I decided that it was time to find some answers. And if no one would answer my questions, maybe some books could.

And I was gonna start with this Watcher creature.

The library…I don't know if it was because I had grown up in a city where there were several libraries, but my first thought was that it was the smallest library I'd ever seen. It didn't even take up a whole block, and it was only one story. I almost didn't go in because there was no way anything could be in here.

But I forced myself to go in. There were only two people behind the front desk - probably the only people who worked here - and a few people in what looked like a computer room. I slipped off to the left towards all the books before anyone would notice me. I found a corner where I could work uninhibited.

Unsurprisingly, it only took half an hour to find all I could about the subject of the local legends. It wasn't a whole lot, but more than I thought I would find. I found a few books - if you could call them that - several news articles, and a copy of some cartographer's journal.

Reading through everything, I soon realized why no one would tell me anything: it was because there was nothing to tell. It wasn't because they were scared to say its name; it was because there was nothing on the subject. Nada. Zip. No concrete evidence.

Sure, there were stories. Tales of odd noises heard or glances of something in the corners of their eyes. But it was just that: bare minimum evidence that was blown widely out of proportion. Mostly, it was tales of white dogs or the sound of a string instrument from deep in the woods.

And the Watcher…

It was all over the place. One tale said that the Watcher of the Woods existed as long as the mountains were mountains:

In the days before men, wild animals roamed unchecked across the land. They were as spirits and had all the power of spirits and were wise and could speak. Among them, the Watcher of the Woods was the wisest, for he alone could attain the valley of the deepest green and seek wisdom from the oaken groves.

"In the early stages of the world, the earth was still learning its shape. The shell of the earth cracked, and the land heaved, and the oceans churned. Great mountains were born at the seams of the earth, and great valleys appeared where the land split.

In ages past, all things living commanded infinite power. Some creatures sought to keep their strength secret and refused to share their gifts. Thus, darkness sought to make all creatures equal and share their power equally amongst all things.

Instead, the craven amongst them concealed their Divinity, and left the world death-like and dull. Their True Names were lost, and no more were they as spirits. O ly the Watcher remembered how the world had been, and only the Watcher could guide the others toward the darkest grove to uncover the wisdom of old."

“After a time, the deer heard the response to its plea. “I can do what you ask,” the ancient tree said, “though there will be a cost.”

There were also a lot of animal tales, and I was surprised to see Granny's name in one of them as an intro. I guess there weren't a whole lot of people to talk to in this town. There was "Journey to the Oaken Grove" about how a little rabbit journeyed to the Watcher to seek out answers. There was "The Fox's Shadow" about how a fox left his family and didn't come back right. There was also a tale called "Lost in the Labyrinth" where a deer begged the Watcher to take away its suffering.

“I will pay it,” said the deer, “whatever it may be, if it means I may be free of fear.”

“You must give your heart to me,” said the tree. “To be truly free, you must relinquish your greatest strength, and only then will you find relief.”

“Is it wrong of me to do so?” the deer asked, worrying that it was its fear alone that drove it to ask this of the tree.

So the deer whispered its true name to the great tree, who accepted it tenderly and wove a spell to set the weary deer free.”

“Not at all, dear one,” the tree replied. “You are very brave to make such a sacrifice.”

But the most shocking thing I found? A ten-year-old news article abbut these cultists, and weirdly, a photo of Nick and Noah was in it.

None of this, however, held a candle to the witness accounts of people who lived near the forest. Tales of half-men cultists from the underworld, and on the summer solstice, they would appear to make a sacrifice to the horned king of hell.

Nick's words from this past weekend came back to me. "People here like to think they care about you... they end up leaving you to the lions." Was this what he meant?

Nick 😺🍌: Noah wants to know if it’s okay if he can come over.

Despite what little I found, I still copied down what I could, until my hand cramped and my spare change for the copier was spent. I was close to leaving, having everything packed up and ready to go, when I got a text from Nick. I felt my heart leap, but when I saw the subject matter, I groaned in frustration.

Well at least he’s asking this time.

A part of me wanted to text back “No, absolutely not,” but instead I hesitated. If Nick was certain that Noah’s and my first meeting was a fluke, then maybe I should give him another chance.

Nick 😺🍌: come on, give him another chance.

Nick 😺🍌: are you busy?

No, but I’m not home right now. I’m leaving the library right now.

Nick 😺🍌: Can I ask you for a favor then?

I’m not stealing any babies for you.

Nick 😺🍌: LOL NO can you drop off a book at Granny’s? She’s feeling under the weather and I don’t want her getting any sicker.

Anything for Granny.

Nick 😺🍌: Ty! I’m almost done with my break, but just text me when you’re done and I’ll let you know about Noah when we’re closing up shop here.

Defeated, I picked up the book for Granny and left the library. With all my papers and books, I couldn't help but think of my old college days. Gauging the time, I decided that the trip to the Heritage Center would have to wait until tomorrow.

Granny was delighted to see me. She fussed over me leaving, preventing me from simply dropping off the book and leaving, so I had to stay for a bit. Which was fine, since that meant seeing Jerry and Lydia. I tried to skirt around her questions about me and Nick. He had been right about the rumors, in a way, and judging by how she was talking, Granny wasn't helping.

"I'm just so glad Nicholas is seeing someone," she said as I tried to pick up Jerry. "He's never been quite the same since Noah disappeared."

I froze, letting Jerry make a bid for freedom. "N-Noah?" I asked. "Aren't they friends?"

"Oh, they were. Noah was always staying over, so much that he had his own plate at the table," she said. I wasn't able to school my confused expression quick enough before she looked over at me. "Oh, he probably hadn't told you about him yet. He doesn't like to talk about the subject much."

My unease was growing by the second. "What do you mean he... disappeared?"

Granny got up, motioning for me to follow. I went with her to what looked like a spare bedroom, or a storage room for a bunch of crochet projects. But my eyes fell onto a framed picture on a table as Granny dug through a dresser. It was of Nick, though he had short hair and small spacers in his earlobes. He was kneeling and gripping the hand of a much younger Noah, who also had short hair.

Granny pulled out a manilla folder, drawing my attention away from the picture. "Nicholas was once obsessed with trying to find Noah, but then a year had passed, and he stopped. He threw this away, but I kept it in case he would regret the decision." She then pulled out what looked like an old newspaper clipping.

And above it, in big bold letters..

I didn't want to look, but I knew I was going to have to. The first thing my eyes were drawn to was the picture: a young man, obviously older than the previous picture, but with long dark hair and big dark eyes, smirking at the camera. An exact mirror of the man who had shown up on my property a week ago,

MISSING RESIDENT PRESUMED DEAD

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Swallowing Hard Truths

Not Natural ✨ The Devil's Trap ✨ Holy Water ✨ The Demon's Altar ✨ Midnight Meeting ✨ The Hunter's Trap ✨ Sharp Secrets and Bloody Blades ✨ A Hunter's Beast Tamed ✨ No Chick Flick Moments ✨ Witches, Bitches, and Beasts ✨ Cursed or Not ✨ Poison Lips and True Love's Kiss

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: SPN inspired, ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), demon Kells, hunter Dom, getting hexed, inappropriate use of kitchens, fingering, cunnilingus, cock warming, magic downers, mentions of outside sex, mentions of death (other people's), mentions of hunting, lore, being a brat, taking care of Tom, trying to be empathetic, talks about their pasts, being jumped (in the fun way), graphic descriptions of a blow job, choking, grinding, Dom being pushy, mentions of prostitution, blowjob black out, boys not so secretly in love ⚰️ rating: explicit

Keliphos hadn't let himself be so cooped up since his time in hell as how he ended up being stuck at Tom's cabin. It wasn't a bad feeling exactly but he certainly wasn't used to it. Even though he and Dom were ignoring a mountain of shit they needed to talk about, they were having an amazing week. The demon had a bad feeling in the back of his mind so he kept the boy on the magically protected property and while they were doing great, things with the witch were… strained at times. Of course he was bedding his omega anywhere he could and some places he wasn't supposed to. When they were caught in the herb garden Tom hexed them for the day so neither of them could get it up. Joke was on him though, the beast had plenty of other fun things to teach his beauty.

He wasn't sure if he was in a mini war with the ancient or not but it made him ornery. He fingered Dom in the library, ate him out under the kitchen table, when the boy's oral fixation took over he let him warm his soft cock for as long as he wanted. The punk still hadn't truly blown him because every time they started playing they got distracted but watching him sit like the good bitch he was made Kells need it even more. The Hunter was so fucking horny the devil was almost overwhelmed. He didn't know if it was just him finally losing his v card after waiting so long, if he liked Kells that much, or if he was in heat, but Dom was turning into the perfect little slut for him. They hadn't actually been getting as much research done as they had meant to but they had time.

The nephalem made sure to wear the boy out at night and it was no different under the hex. He knew it was only twenty four hour magic but the moment Dom passed out he was sneaking out of bed to think of a way to get back at his new frenemy. He wandered out nude because he truly didn't give a shit but the home was dark and quiet. Part of him thought they should talk about it, he didn't know if Tom was truly upset with them or not so he made his way to the witch's study but found it empty there too. He'd obviously been there recently, there was a candle burning low and a book open on the desk. He knew he probably shouldn't bother it but… they were all hunting together right? He'd been welcomed to 'any volume in the library' and he was just devil enough to snap his fingers and teleport there with the book.

"It's in the library isn't it?" He whispered to himself. He knew that specific tome was from the hippy's special shelf. There were books of magic Tom didn't think anyone else should have access to so he kept them safe but Kells was just as old if not older… he could handle whatever was there. The pages were soft and thin, made out of something he could feel wasn't from the human plane. The writing was beautiful and ancient but what it said was confusing.

They were hunting an old demon but the book Tom had been focusing on was full of stories of the Grecian pantheon. From Chaos to the Muses to demigods it was all familial connections and bullet point tales as if it were someone's journal who knew them all. There were notes in the margins, doodles, and things were even angrily scratched out and rewritten. Keliphos was confused why the writer's voice felt familiar.

There was a notepad stuck inside the book with a pen hooked over it and he noticed it was a list of names with many of them crossed out. He picked it up, his preternatural night vision reading it easily but it took him a moment to realize what it was. The names that had already been crossed out were gods who had been Hunted- he knew of a few and was able to assume the rest. Aphrodite was crossed out of course but he couldn't help drawing a little tongue out devil doodle next to it and writing- 'fuck yeah!' He knew it would get him caught but just to hopefully ease the tension between them he added 'good job' next to it.

He tucked the notepad back inside and flipped through the pages a little more, but something inside him drew him to a certain page. The story there was something out of a tragic romance novel- two primordial gods torn apart because one was misunderstood. From what he was reading the stolen goddess sounded like the first true demon but he knew there were so many legends about who was the original. From what he could see in his skimming the pair were meant to be but the goddess was taken, leaving the god to disappear. He set the book down again and traced the gorgeous calligraphy of the two names. "Achlys and Aether." He whispered and the words felt weighted on his tongue. He started to find a seat to read further when he heard something.

His instincts were on high alert and he was too nervous to leave it be. He wanted to trust Tom's witch work and protections but just in case… He waved his hand and sent the book back to its spot, dressing himself in a pair of gray sweats at the same time. The sound was coming from outside so he teleported there, trying to ready himself for anything. What he wasn't prepared to find though was Tom kneeling in his garden and crying over a rose bush Kells didn't remember seeing before. For once he didn't think the witch knew he was there but as much as he wanted to leave him be, he knew Dom would be disappointed. Fuck.

"Why do none of you learn? I don't understand, it's like you beg to be hunted! Did I teach you nothing about the sanctity of life? Yet you all leave me with regret. Not him. Not- not them. It won't happen again. Though… I can't possibly be right. There's no way it's true. I'm just mad. That's it. Perhaps you've broken me." Tom cried to himself softly, his glowing tears falling to soak into the soil. Keliphos arched a brow, his nerves getting the best of him. He knew a lot of ancients went crazy and it didn't help if they kept to themselves.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer, making sure to make a noise in the leaves and the witch jumped but didn't turn around, he just stopped crying and wiped his face to hide. Kells summoned a lit joint for both of them and took a deep drag before trying to hand it over. He was thankful when Tommy reached back for it. The dude needed to relax a little. "So… I noticed a lot of Men of Letters shit inside." He tried to talk about anything besides what he heard.

Tom sniffled and nodded, sighing deep as he stood to face the beast. "Who do you think helped them begin? I thought to protect humans from things like us but… many of those people were monsters as well." They both shuddered. The MoL had been responsible for terrible things but some of them were good. Obviously the guy was regretting his whole life though. Keliphos knew that emotion, he'd been at that edge plenty of times. He just hoped Dominic pulled Tom from it as much as he did for him but… preferably not for the same reason.

"So you've always been a badass nerd. Cool." The devil teased, taking the joint back and taking a long pull before he made it vanish. "You're going to hate me but I have to ask-"

"You really don't."

"Dom will be pissed if I don't. Sorry man but I'm supposed to be a good guy now." The beast joked, giving the witch his best grin but the other ancient just rolled his eyes.

"I won't tell him. You can just leave me alone and he never has to know you didn't check on me. Besides, you were spying." Tom tried to run him off but they both knew it wouldn't work.

"I heard you. Are you okay?" His saliva tasted sour on his tongue but he still added- "Can I help?" But at the faux gag from Tommy he dropped his gaze back to the garden behind him. There were so many different blooms but the roses were definitely new. Did he plant after every kill? Or… was it in memory of?

"I'm old Keliphos, I've known many people. Thank you for the offer but I'm fine. You may tell your master you did your good deed for the day. Though the mess you left in my library might cancel it out."

"He's not my master. If anything-" Kells grumbled but he knew the witch was trying to change the subject and knew what buttons to push. "You killed someone you loved? For me?" His voice was soft and full of confusion but Tom shook his head.

"It wasn't like that. Please? Please let this go for now? Give me time. Aphrodite was not the girl I knew any longer. Or perhaps I'm not the creature I was. Please? Just… let this prove I'm on your side. Both of you. But just grant me time?" It almost sounded like a desperate beg and though it felt like torture not to understand he found enough empathy to let it rest. For a time at least. The creature must have been able to feel him agreeing or perhaps he nodded but he stepped forward and put his arm around the devil to lead him back inside. "The hex will be lifted in… oh, look at that- five minutes. Go to him, I'm sure he needs you, though I'll never know why."

Keliphos pushed him gently, sticking his tongue out for a moment. Tom knew them well enough to know that would be what got him moving. They parted ways when the got inside, Tom off to his study and the demon down the hall to his bedroom but before he could reach it the door flew open and his lover took his hand to yank him inside. The door pushed shut behind him and his back was slammed against the wood. He didn't know what was happening but suddenly he had his arms full of needy omega and fuck, wasn't that the best?

"I 'eard you wiv 'im. I woke up and got worried you was killing each over but-" The Hunter's voice was soft and whimpering already, his words coming fast between nips and kisses along his jaw. "Fank you. You was good." He whined, his already wet core grinding rough against where the demon was soon to get hard as a rock.

"Lemme get this shit straight-" Kells growled, his hands groping tight at his lover's ass. He hadn't expected that but it was a welcome surprise and he was great at going with the flow. Especially Dom's. "You're jumping me because I was sweet to another dude?"

"Shut the fuck up. You was nice to me only family Kells. Now, did he say five minutes?" The kid was almost bouncing on his cock and it wasn't even out or hard yet. The nephalem didn't know how the kid could ignore the rest of the conversation but with him so happy and desperate he couldn't be fucked.

He could feel his cocky grin curl his lips as his bitch tried to soak him through their clothes but he could already feel the magic waning and he had an idea. Dom squeaked when the only thing holding him up disappeared and he started slipping down his devil like a sexy monster stripper pole. The gray sweats were too loose so they came down with him and by the time the boy's ass hit the floor there was a hand on his head and a finally filling dick in his face.

Saliva pooled on Dom's tongue and he whimpered low, squeezing his thighs together to find some kind of relief. When his gaze rolled up they met stormclouds, though he'd swear the blue glow was stronger than the black clouds. "Need you." He huffed softly, pouting up at his lover but the devil was out to play and it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Oh? Would you rather taste my dick or lick your slick off of it? Cause one way or the other I'm stuffing this down your throat till you choke." Kells rasped, his voice deep and sharp as he curled his free hand around his already pulsing knot. Like Tom had said, he did his good deed for the day and he'd spent the rest of it pleasuring his omega. It was time to let a little of his monster out and by the heavy scent of arousal in the air, Dom was okay with that.

"And if I bend over the bed instead?" He purred back but he was already testing his jaw. He wasn't normally happy with the size of it but as he eyed the beast in front of him he knew he needed the space. Fingers tugged his hair up hard and he felt his brain start to melt.

"Like I said- either way babe. But I thought you might rather me knot your pussy instead of your mouth. I don't care, your choice." Of course he did, his new favorite thing was laying in bed blissed out, plugging his bitch full but Dom didn't need to know that. He dropped the kid's hair, pushing him a bit too rough but of course he came right back and Kells shoved two fingers between his lips, yanking his mouth open.

Dom choked at the intrusion but he obeyed as best he could. He wasn't used to it, he'd never followed directions very well but his lover deserved a treat after all he'd done. Dom couldn't even count how many times he'd cum that day and he never thought he'd care so little about his own cock but he was certainly obsessed with the one in front of him. His mouth opened wide, his tongue teasing the digits still holding him open. Even though hours had passed he could taste himself on the beast's fingers. His slick had dried there like day old perfume. Kells was right, he wanted to taste him fresh, not covered in his own juices.

Blunt teeth bit down on his fingers and before Keliphos could pull them free the boy was diving forward. He ended up still hooking Dom's mouth open as he swallowed the tip of his cock but the angle was all wrong and he finally pulled them free. "Bratty bitch." He hissed. He wished he could punish the Hunter but something always stopped him short before he caused him too much pain. The kid had been through too much already.

Dom mumbled something with his mouth full but he didn't even know what it was. He was too focused on the silky hot weight on his tongue and the salty warmth of precum already coating the back of his throat. He didn't care if his partner called him a brat or a bitch, he knew he was giving him exactly what he wanted. He just hoped his enthusiasm made up for his inexperience. He'd made a little money when he was younger in ways he regretted but that was mostly hands or letting people watch him play. Almost everything was new with his demon, and even when it wasn't it felt like it was. There was something about the beast but he wouldn't look too closely at it.

The devil let his head fall against the door as his fingers tangled back in Dom's hair but his boy was eager enough he didn't really need to help. The punk was already drooling around him, bobbing his head until he gagged, but he never stopped trying. Pushing. Shoving him deeper. "Fucking hell Dom- good boy." He didn't normally spill praises but he couldn't say anything else with the way his bitch was choking on him. The noises that floated up to make his ears twitch were better than any porn star and when Dom started humming he thought about proposing.

Dominic was on cloud nine. He never thought he'd enjoy something so much that felt so depraved but he had the most powerful demon he'd ever met moaning like a whore. When he finally got the monster's cock halfway down his throat and he felt his lips brushing his knot he paused there. His eyes rolled up, watching as the devil looked back at him, and even though his head was going light and dizzy he attempted to smirk and he swallowed.

Keliphos made a noise he'd deny forever was a whine but the way his omega felt choking around him was too much. Those plush pillow lips looked like sin pulled so tight and the steady tease of teeth was heaven. Somehow Dom knew every button he had or maybe he just really liked desperate virgins. He couldn't believe it was something as outlandish as love. No, fuck that. "Don't." He warned, though he wasn't sure what he was trying to stop him from doing. He just knew if the kid had any more tricks he'd get a belly full and not the kind he wanted.

Those jade eyes sparkled and the beast's hands slapped against the door. He could barely hold himself up anymore. Dom pulled off, almost all the way, and he waited a moment- letting them both breathe. He could feel tears and more wetting his face and he wondered if he looked like those girls Kells was watching on Casa Erotica one day. "Prettier." The devil tried to soothe and he felt the splash of joy that dosed Dom's brain. The scent of slick got stronger in the room and Keliphos was getting desperate for his favorite place- though that damn mouth was fast becoming a close second.

Suddenly a strong hand was gripping the demon's ass and the Hunter was swallowing his dick deep. Those petal soft spit wet lips kissed his knot but he didn't try to force it inside. Instead he curled his free palm there and squeezed tight. He didn't even move his head again; he just held close and kept gagging. Kells tried to pull free, he didn't think the kid could handle swallowing that much from him but Dom wouldn't move and he couldn't force him. Before he could find any way to stop himself he felt pleasure zinging up his spine and he broke. Every other time they came together he had some semblance of control but the human was learning and he was demanding every drop.

Dominic wished he could taste the demon's spend better but he knew if he pulled back at all Kells might push him off. For once he had the upper hand and even though his vision was going spotty he kept watching his lover. The nephalem was gorgeous in his rapture but the boy's instincts caught something else. At first all he could hear was the monster's grunts and moans but he swore a storm was rolling in. Or maybe it was the blood rushing in his ears. He kept swallowing, he refused to let anything break his focus but then lightning was striking, lighting up the room. He couldn't help but jump though he'd always loved storms. He just didn't know what was happening.

His gaze felt weak, his grip loosening, but even so blind he could only see his partner. Another strike and the room lit up bright but the thunder felt like pressure inside the room. As everything started going dark around him he fought passing out but he knew he would lose. It was worth it though as the world lit up around them again and he saw something he knew the devil would deny. His half angel alpha had wings.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

I need to start taking breaks again but I'm on a roll I suppose. I hope you enjoyed this! There was a little plot with the porn, just a smidge. Why was Tom reading that? What was he talking about? Why can't Kells let himself hurt Dom or let him leave the warded home? Why is Kells slowly becoming more of an angel? Who are the gods in the story? Keep reading to find out! I hope you're still loving it ⚰️🖤

[marvelmusing]

An Era of Power

Part Five

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: You continue with your lessons and relive old memories, whilst the General searches for Morozova’s journals - and brings you news of something else.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: mentions of canon level violence, Grisha discrimination, and minor drugging incident

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

“You’re new.”

Heart pounding, you spin around quickly to look at the person who had spoken. You had thought you were alone in the library of the Little Palace. Instead, a thin face with hollow eyes stares back at you, strands of thinning hair clinging to his pale forehead. From his appearance and clothing, a brown robe, you know who you’re looking at. The Apparat. You survey him for a long moment, attempting to settle the erratic beat of your heart and gauge exactly why he’s speaking to you,

“You’re the King’s spiritual advisor.”

He nods, dark eyes boring into yours as he steps closer. Genya had told you about the Apparat. A quiet, sneaky man, never seen too far from the king’s shoulder.

You haven’t followed the religion of Saints for a long time. The Saints celebrated when you were young are no longer public knowledge, and the Church itself no longer upholds the values you had once respected.

He smiles widely, a sight which unsettles you.

“I would like us to be friends, we can be friends, can we not?”

You smile politely, taking a careful step back as you edge towards the door.

“Of course.” You say, hoping to appease him so that you can make your escape, deciding to return later to collect the pile of books you had gathered onto the table. You slot the book you were looking at back onto the shelf, fumbling slightly.

“Ah, I see you are interested in the myth of the White Stag.” He says, observing the front cover of the book. You turn back to look at him, your head tilted aside. “Allow me to curate some reading for you.”

His fingers flitter over the spines of the books as he searches through the titles. You pause your escape, your curiosity overpowering the unease you feel around him.

He selects a book, pulling it from the shelf and placing it down on the table before he turns through the pages.

“It all started with this man here.” He begins, flattening the pages down as he speaks. “One of the first Grisha in recorded history. The Bonesmith.”

You step forwards, standing beside the Apparat to look down at the open book. You’re greeted with a familiar illustration of Sankt Ilya.

“He knew that Grisha would always be persecuted, so he sought to create a means to amplify their power.”

He turns away, reaching for another book as you look down at the illustration. You doubt the artist had ever seen Sankt Ilya, the drawing certainly doesn’t look like the man who had taken you and your mother in when you were lost in the mountains. You frown, mulling the Apparat’s words over in your head. You had never heard of Morozova being referred to in such a manner.

“The Bonesmith?” You repeat.

“He made the creatures from his own finger bones.” Your frown only deepens. Morozova’s fingers were all intact when you had stayed with him. Perhaps these amplifiers were created after you had met him, but that doesn’t seem right. Morozova had created the amplifiers before the attempt on his life which led everyone to believe he had drowned along with his daughter. You are the only person still alive to know that Morozova survived the ordeal.

The Apparat continues to flick through a book.

“Mythical creatures brimming with power. Attuned only to Grisha.” You look down at the page he has stopped on, detailing the different amplifiers that Morozova had created. “They learnt that killing one of these creatures, and then melding a piece of it onto their body would amplify their ability.”

You glance down at your hands, wondering if an amplifier was what you needed to be powerful enough to destroy the Fold. Looking back up, you notice the hungry glint in the Apparat’s eyes as he also stares down at your hands. You shift away slightly. You’ve been used for your power before, and you refuse to be used again. He continues, but his eyes linger on your hands for a long moment.

“Sometimes the change was minor, but with the right binding the increase in power was astonishing.” You round the table, heading for the pile of books you had collected before the Apparat interrupted your morning. At your lack of response, he continues speaking,

“Mostly the peasants hate the Grisha, but I think it is because the Grisha do not suffer.” You look up at him sharply, allowing his words to settle in your mind and prickle over your skin.

“The Grisha do not suffer?” You repeat slowly, a mosaic of emotions in your tone. You would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. The Apparat meets your eyes, his brows drawn together, as if he suspects he’s said something wrong. A broken smile twists at your lips as you say, “Allow me to curate some reading for you.”

You turn to the shelf behind you, scanning over the titles on display. It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re searching for. A Brief History of Ravka. You flick through the pages sharply, before lifting your head to look at the man in front of you.

“The Massacre of Kribrisk, 1567. Fifty two Grisha burnt at the stake.” Something akin to nervousness glistens in his eyes, as if he is suddenly aware that you will feel no sympathy for his preaching. “The 1596 Revolt. Twenty nine women, and eight children were executed. All Grisha.” You continue to flick through the pages, before you find the page you’re looking for. “The Second Army was founded in 1772. The casualties sustained in the first year were double that of the First Army within the same year.”

You close the book with a snap, setting it down on the table. Picking up your pile of books, you pull them to your chest, folding your arms around them as you regard the Apparat.

“But as you said, the Grisha do not suffer.”

You nod as politely as you can, and walk away before he can muster any sort of response, the heels of your boots thudding down the corridor.

»»---------------------►

Despite the cool autumn breeze, the sunlight is warm against your skin as you sit on the steps to the Summoners Pavillion. In the distance, you spot a mixture of blue, purple, and red figures near the lake, and the sound of children’s laughter flows easily with the warm breeze. The sight brings a smile to your lips. Their childhood is nothing like what yours had been, and you can’t help but admire the General for creating such a place of safety for them.

Your eyes drift over the figures, watching the trees sway with the wind, before your gaze falls on the shadow of Baghra’s hut, nestled away from the world.

You hadn’t been back to Baghra’s hut, avoiding anyone who might have the authority to force you into attending lessons again.

The memory of your last lesson fills your mind before you can stop it.

“That tea should be kicking in now.” She says. Her pale blue eyes staring hard at your face. Your expression drops.

“What?”

Glancing down at the cup you had drank from, your stomach lurches with panic. Over hundreds of years, you have learnt to be careful, and now you’ve been drugged. Part of you is terrified that she will drag your unconscious body away to be sold or cut up - old fears that you never thought would hold you captive again.

Then the world around you fades.

You’re in Morozova’s workshop.

“What do you see, girl?” You blink a few times, trying to hold back tears.

“There was a man that my mother and I stayed with, not long after my sister died. I’m in his workshop.”

Some part of you knows it’s all a vision, but that knowledge fades as you run your finger over his work bench, feeling the familiar roughness against your skin. The fireplace crackles, its warmth a startling contrast to the cold outside of the mountaintops where you had been walking for days after your sister’s death.

The two weeks you had spent with him was the only time you remember your mother being particularly kind to you. She often walked down into the village, and you knew she wanted to stay there with the other otkazat’sya, and forget about her Grisha child in the mountains. But that was fine with you. You would sit at Morozova’s feet and play with his tools while he worked.

Hearing a sound, you turn around.

Morozova sits in his armchair, his brows drawn together as he looks through a pile of papers. He scribbles something down in a book. One of his journals. The door swings open, and your mother walks in.

“Madraya.” You whisper sadly.

The conversation between your mother and Morozova is muffled but you know what she’s asking him for. To sever you from the making at the heart of the world, and to remove your power. You now know that isn’t possible, and Morozova had known it too.

“My mother hated that I was Grisha.” You say, tears sliding down your cheeks. You thought her hatred no longer had an impact on you, but seeing the proof of it right in front of you hurts more than you thought possible. “But that never prevented her from using my power for herself.”

“And where is she now?” Baghra asks. Something bitter twists your features.

“Buried somewhere I imagine. Nothing but dust now.”

“Then what are you holding back for?”

You swallow down a sob, the anger, fear, and guilt clawing at your chest. Baghra’s right. You have been holding back. You’ve been afraid of your power, because some small part of you is still that little girl with the murdered sister and the mother who didn’t love you for who you were. But you will never be otkazat’sya, and you don’t want to be.

You turn sharply, and the vision shatters.

Baghra’s hut comes back into focus, and the woman herself has her eyes fixed on you as more tears flood down your face. After centuries of shutting people out, this is too much. Baghra has seen too much of you. Before she can even speak, you’re rushing out, the door slamming shut behind you.

The grass is wet beneath your feet as you run, but you’re not worried about slipping, far too consumed by your emotions to care. Once you’re far enough into the woods, surrounded by trees as far as you can see, you drop to your knees and cry.

Memories long hidden and locked away inside you come to the surface, seeking to push your distress into pure torment.

You remember the moment you had confronted your mother, asking her about the night your sister had been killed. Finding out that she was the one who told the Grisha hunters where you would be hiding. The betrayal and anger still burns in your heart. You remember her words, when you had turned on her.

“What will you do now? Kill the only person you have left?”

You had kept your mother alive for centuries, reversing the effects of aging on her body because you were terrified of living your life alone. Because she convinced you that she was the reason why you had this power.

She was wrong.

You also remember your own words, as you looked at her one last time.

“I don’t need to kill you mother, time will do it for me.”

A voice is what finally pulls you out of the memory.

“You are aware that today is a Saint’s day?” You glance up from your book, raising an eyebrow at the General. There’s a teasing glint in his eyes as he sits down on the steps of the pavilion, next to your feet, and you attempt to stop your cheeks from warming at such a sight.

“Yes, I am.”

“And yet you’re studying.”

His presence breaks the tense energy that had surrounded you over the past few days, and you find you can smile much easier.

“Not studying. Reading is an enjoyable pastime, General.” He leans closer, tilting your book slightly away from your knees to read the title for himself.

“The Art of Strategy by Mikhail Kozlova?”

He raises his brow again, the doubt in his voice clearly revealing his disbelief at your insistence of enjoyment. The corner of your mouth quirks as you keep your eyes on the pages before you, even though you struggle to focus on the content with the General looking at you. His forehead creases in confusion, before he adds,

“That book is for advanced students. Second year advanced students.”

You nod, turning the page as you respond,

“I’ve already read the first year material.”

Glancing up, the General’s dark eyes are already on you as you meet his gaze. There’s a spark of surprise in them which soon softens into something that has your heart fluttering. The pale autumn sunlight casts a beautiful glow over his skin, making him even more painfully handsome. Clearing your throat, you decide to change the topic of conversation.

“Has there been any progress with the search for Morozova’s journals?”

He shakes his head slightly.

“I have an idea of their whereabouts, but my men haven’t found anything yet.” You nod with a small, hopeful smile tugging at your lips.

“Yet.”

His serious expression softens once again, and a small smile curls at the corner of his mouth as he nods slowly,

“Yet.”

There’s a pause between you, but you don’t continue with your reading. Instead, you watch the General as he observes a small group of children playing in the lake. A faint smile traces over his lips as a tiny Tidemaker summons a wave to soak several red and purple clad children.

“How are your lessons coming along?” He asks, not looking at you. Whatever smile had been growing on your own face fades. You glance down at your book when he looks at you, no doubt sensing your mood shift.

“Does Baghra typically drug her students?”

“Ah.” His hand rubs at the back of his neck, then looks away into the distance. “Sometimes she does, when there’s a particular reason why they’re struggling with their power. Usually a memory that they don’t want to confront.”

“Did she ever do it to you?” He scoffs sharply.

“Countless times.”

The image of a small boy with dark hair comes to your mind, struggling to bend the shadows and being forced to relive whatever fear held his power hostage. You want to reach for him, and offer some sort of comfort. Instead you close your book, and push away from the column you had been leaning your back against. Casting your book aside, you sit shoulder to shoulder with him, and watch the children continue to play as you attempt to continue the conversation.

“Aside from that, I think I’m doing well.” There’s a pause before you add, “Baghra mentioned that you wanted me to have an amplifier.”

The General looks frustrated for a second, but you don’t feel bad about possibly getting Baghra into trouble. He sighs before nodding.

“I wanted to wait before telling you this.”

“You still can.” You offer, and he shakes his head.

“What do you know about Morozova’s Stag?” At the sound of his question you turn to him, and thoughts of your nightmare, as well as your trip to the library, come to mind.

“Only that Morozova used the forbidden science to create the Stag - as one of his amplifiers.” The General nods.

“One of the most powerful amplifiers in existence.”

“What about it?”

“I’ve had trackers searching for it ever since you showed me your power.” Tilting your head aside, you frown at him.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to have it.”

»»---------------------►

AEOP Tag List: @budugu @agentstarkid @seraferna @watersquirtpewpewboomm @marvel-ousnesss @venomsvl

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt

If you’d like to be added or removed from my tag list just ask!! Feel free to comment or reblog if you liked this!

[jods-duplicitous-sluts]

Alecto the Ninth News

Part Two

If you haven't read part one, click here. If you are looking for part three, click here.

Another bunch of screenshots and links after the cut

If you enjoy this post please reblog so more people can see it!

Source: The Portalist Interview

• wonder who all this could reference...let's see: Gideon, Harrow, Ianthe, John, Judith, Coronabeth, Pyrrah, Aiglamene, and Sarpedon are who I can think of that match this in the literal sense of not being dead[well...] at the end of Nona. But if we start including souls we've seen in the river and deaths we've only heard about or were in any way ambiguous....it gets more interesting. I'd imagine the BOE who were on the Ninth will continue to be involved like AIM and Pash. I'd assume Paul will be a major player despite not technically appearing in two books and maybe Juno Zeta and Kiki?

Source: The Library Journal

• this kind of ties into the above but also ties into the harrowing of hell/what's wrong with the river plot line. I'm still saying John did something to damn the river and feeds off the energy of all the ghosts of the past 10,000 years being unable to cross to the beyond. I'd also venture that it has something to do with needing to restore the soulnof Earth as the rightful power/God of their universe. But eh. Maybe that's too simple. Again, all just speculation on my part.

Source: In the Margin

• This whole interview is great but this part about tragic figures in the locked tomb stuck out to me. It definitely seems like the third temptation will be a subject for Alecto and yet again heading into the Catholic allegories. Obviously referencing to the third temptation of Christ.

For the third and final temptation in Matthew (presented as the second temptation of the three in Luke) the devil takes Jesus to a high place, which Matthew explicitly identifies as a very high mountain[or a tower], where all the kingdoms of the world can be seen. The spot pointed out by tradition as the summit from which Satan offered to Jesus dominion over all earthly kingdoms. The temptation to assume leadership over the kingdoms of man. The kingdoms Jesus would inherit through Satan are obtained through love of power and political oppression. Barrett characterizes this "the old but ever new temptation to do evil that good may come; to justify the illegitimacy of the means by the greatness of the end." [From Wikipedia]

Basically the temptation to overthrow God.

Source: In the Margin

• A return to Canaan House and its mysteries. Is this in regards to the devils and the tower, Abigail and her theory about the secret private chambers of the Emperor, Palamades being systematically lied to about the ages and psychometric signatures in Canaan House or Harrow and her secret door theory? Or something else entirely...but I'm glad that we may get another glimpse into Canaan House.

Source: Nerd Daily Aug. 2020 interview

• Now this interview is pre-Nona as its own book, but I can't think of any 2 characters that interact in Harrow that would have had a moment that fits this in Nona. Brutal sincerity? It feels like it has to involve Harrow, John, Ianthe or Gideon in some way.

Source: The Nerd Daily 2020

• Again on the theme of love which relates to Nona, but TazMuir has said in other interviews to expect that theme to continue onto Alecto.

Also don't expect everyone to get what's coming to them which doesn't shock me.

Source: LA Book Review

• Pre-Nona interview. But talking about Gideon and Harrow’s relationship dynamic changing as their standing changes. Obviously we're going to see some fallout/paradigm shifts with Gideon being the heir aparent of God and Harrow basically becoming a heretic of sorts.

Source: The Library Journal

• Broad strokes here about character growth and a painful but begrudging happiness that some characters will find. But there is a chance at happiness. So that's something a lot of haven't been counting on.

Source: Vox Bookclub Podcast transcript

• while this is a reference to Harrow the Ninth it does mention to look out for more biblical allusion in Alecto. Now, I'm pretty sure this is pre-Nona announcement and obviously we got all the John biblical references but from the other interviews we've been talking about we know there is so harrowing of hell and temptation of christ in our future. Maybe someone more upon Bible study can chime in with other Biblical passages or stories that may come into play that fit the same theme?

Source: The Coode Street Podcast

• Paraphrasing but On episode 598 of the Coode Street podcast, Tamsyn Muir said that Alecto the Ninth was completed but hadn't been edited yet and that she doubted it would be out by the end of 2023 as it was a "chonky boy" or a "chungus" (her words). That podcast was released in December, so I'm assuming recorded in November or earlier.

Seems to me like any listed dates right now are probably placeholders until Tor announces an official release date.

PHEW! That was a lot so far. To be honest there are some other podcast interviews I know I've listened to in the past but haven't had time to revisit for this project so I may be missing some things.

We have one more roundup of interview screenshots to go, but it will have to be its own post. And the theme of part 3 of ATN news is: CW: Ianthe Tridentarius. Yep. There are so many mentions referring to Ianthe in Alecto that they will be their own post. [Yikes]

Click here to see part 3 of this post

[usakiboi]

My art ain’t exactly arting lately so until I get my groove back (my desire to draw gay people in 4k) here’s a list of my naruto headcannons but it’s specifically for my au

Sakura

Blasian

Naturally blonde like her mom but dyed her to match her fathers, unfortunately the colored ended up being lighter than she planned

She isn’t a terrible cook but she gets distracted easily and burns the food she makes

Sleeper build

Went on strike when the public became outraged with her decision to marry Hinata

Acts super girly but is a huge tomboy

allergic to cats

Retired jounin and focuses on her hospitals as well as her family

Sakura regularly checks on Hinata’s heart and goes doctor mode immediately even if all Hinata is doing is catching her breath

Hinata

Plus size

Chinese on her Father’s side and Japanese on her Mother’s

Can eat a lot but doesn’t in fear of what other people would think

Her dream is to prove her self worth to her clan, as she grows her dream changes from simply wishing to prove herself to also wanting to free the branch members from their seals

She becomes the Hyuga advisor and right hand man to Clan Head, Hanabi

She’s retired from active duty to handle clan matters

Hyuga in general are one of the shortest in terms of height when it comes to Konoha. Hinata is the shortest

Has a glare that can rival her father’s but she’s naturally patient and easygoing that you almost never see it

Knits gifts for her friends

Due to the Pein fight as well as her fight with Neji her health isn’t the greatest and if she exerts herself too much she will become sick. After falling ill immediately after the war she and her family made the decision to take her off the roster

Boruto

Is stupidly smart but can’t focus for shit so he fails his test simply because he doesn’t get enough time to fill out the paper

Can cook

Has on multiple occasions argued why pink is in fact a manly color

Never hits his growth spurt and is only slightly taller than his mom when he gets older

Regularly argues with Momoshiki when he gets bored

Would willingly jump off a mountain if you dared him

Has a scar on his forehead from where he broke Momoshiki’s horn

Cant dress for shit

Sarada

Secretly into really nerdy and geeky things

Takes over the cooking when her mother gets distracted

Her glasses classify as a help aid both normally and when she uses her sharingan. Taking them off while using her sharigan could permanently damage her eyes

A majority of her strength comes from enhanced chakra but in her free time she does strength workouts to build her muscles so she can use less chakra when fighting

Would rather her team see her as useful and someone to depend on than someone they need to protect

Mitsuki

Autistic

Like far on the spectrum

overthinks

Gets sluggish in the cold

Albino

has the same marks around his eyes like his parent along with scales on his skin

Refers to Jiraiya and Tsunade as Aunt and Uncle

Also refers to Team taka (excluding sasuke) as aunt and uncles

He calls sasuke big brother in private and Mr.Sasuke around other people

Was responsible for the cut on Log’s face

Baggy top skinny jeans/leggings gay

Orochimaru

Gender-fluid and currently presents as feminine

Cant handle spicy food

Cant handle cold foods

Cant handle cold weather

The stretchy neck, long tongue, and ofher snake features are all clan related traits such as the Inuzuka and their sense of smell

Orochimaru’s mother could also stretch her arms just like Mitsuki can

Orochimaru is still in possession of the Zetsu body and much more prefers it as it last longer than the human bodies and is also moldable, making them able to keep a youthful appearance like they have in Boruto

Horrible self-regulation skills and will starve if they aren’t checked up on

Everyone they’ve ever met has a personal journal made about them stored away in their library

Same height as Hinata

Doesn’t curse or raise his voice ever so it’s really hard to tell when he’s upset

[fourtyfourcatss]

-> for @lost-eternity !

harry potter ✦ remus lupin

✘ you wouldn’t sugarcoat your words and you wouldn’t deceive him, someone who is consistent in countenance in a time of turmoil, reliable, like a mountain that looms everlastingly. strangely, you remind remus of a moon glazing the sky, always lingering there, sometimes showing part of yourself or nothing at all. yet the familiar course of fear does not run through him when he thinks with you in his mind. it’s a strange silver of hope that simmers through him when he sees you, slowly becoming entangled..

✘ i’m assuming the two of you meet during academy days in hogwarts, and while james and sirius are somewhat offput by you both with your exterior and the competition between gryffindor and slytherin, remus is not as affected by such things. in actuality, he is rather interested in the ways you tick as a person! not only so, the more he gets to know you via short conversations and observations, the more he realizes one fact: you are out of his damn league. oh No.

✘ the numerous hobbies you have acquired over the years, your thrill-seeking subconscious— you are such a unique and accomplished person. these are the kinds of thoughts being turned over in his mind, first at a lower extent, but gradually boiling further and further in his mind. it takes for it to slip over, snapping at his friends, for him to get it together and try to catch your attention too

✘ over the next few months, he gradually starts endearing you, which begins your unordinary friendship. he starts from something the two of you shares in common; liking folklores, and tales of monsters. remus is a werewolf buff? it almost instantly heightens your interest in him. then you find out he’s an actual werewolf, and instead of being all disgusted like he expected, you’re actually not surprised; but you are delighted to know you were right!

✘ remus can bend and mold a situation for your comfort if needed, he’s intellectually and emotionally capable in a sense where he doesn’t seem like the rest of the boys at hogwarts. he thinks he cannot possibly hold your interest because of how boring he thinks he is. you fervently reassure him, quelling his swimming mind, yet it resurfaces in his darkest moments. but you are persistent in the kindest ways. this is important, as when the years pass, he grows more steady and accepting. what you have given him is the catalyst for his gratitude to give you now, more than he has already.

✘ remus is the master at expressing his love through actions! he’ll take up any situation to be able to talk with you — sitting next to you at the library, catching you in the crowd and following you to where you need to go, sliding whatever drinks or snacks you like that he has noted in his personal journal from across the table at hogsmeade — at weeks where exams are particularly heavy, busy studying and need someone to help you transcribe your essays? need someone to get you get you some coffee or energy potions? remus is the man! even if you can do many of these yourself, isn’t it more efficient when he’s around? at some point, he’s become more a comforting presence rather than anything! he’s sort of like a very cute puppy you cant bring yourself to let go of, eager to please.

✘ the ways that he expresses his emotions and grows in character is very peculiar — you’ve inspired him to see the world in a different light too. knife throwing, reading folklore, true crime, anything that is not too physically demanding, he takes an indefinite interest in. he wants to be able to bring it up himself to your table, converse with you regarding what you like. sometimes even despite the chronic fatigue, he joins you in horse-riding or hiking. often, he can be found during those times close to you - you making sure he doesn’t slip up in any way, and him sort of trying to nuzzle further into your hold lol. his adoration beats away at his bones, and he is an extremely self-sacrificing man. he’s really to at many times, and it’s amazing how you counter that. being a martyr does not always mean good, and its not always what he can do — you teach him this, the most important lesson for him in all. its a very humbling experience, but you are capable to being patient in this, i assure you.

✘ the two of you are a very dynamic duo. he watches what you do often, mostly because he admires how your mannerisms are just so refined. he is very partial to holding your hands or just locking arms together. often times, he indulges readily in your bickering together, taking your flirtations with a flush but determined eyes. he never truly gets rid of that blush (though it muted) but the way he returns sometimes catches you off guard too! many times he scares sirius and james with his remarks; the two troublemakers somehow growing the guts to threaten misfortune upon you for the honor of their friend 😁 its ok, your friends will take care of them for you (even though you do sharply give them your agreement).

✘ it feels like blown wind in fall, this relationship. the wind sometimes become rushing with excitement or slowly with contentment.

✘ so, the reasoning for this matchup in particular now is because of many things. remus is a compassionate man who is able to see good in everyone, but all the same, he certainly has his limits and can see reason. he does well with comforting, and emotional topics. he balances you well, and can give you different perspectives to the things you see, not to convince you his perspective is better; but to open up more options for you. the two of you are not pushy in vulnerable topics, and will approach it with caution and smoothly when you get there. your hobbies intertwine at points, and your aesthetics can come together well. the two of each other can improve the other, and enhance your different ways of life, helping the two of you become happier people.

<< RUNNERUP >> luna lovegood.

avatar the last airbender ✦ sokka

✘ the reason i chose him is for the fresh air he brings about to the atmosphere; there’s a reason why he’s a magnetic of attraction after all. that said, you’re definitely not one to be easily impressed by his whooping behavior. he’ll probably attach some dumb note on his boomerang and throw it to you, hoping you’d pick it up. you do, but without even picking up the note, you throw it right back at him. rip sokka 💔 keep trying your hardest 🗣️

✘ and you’re right when it comes to the shallowness: thats what sokka thinks of you when he sees your scrutiny. come on! he thinks, we’re running away from a large government that wants to kill us while we try to solve all these problems, of course everyone’s going to get dirty! but, when your reaction is so logical, and unexpected for him, his world shifts about 8 degrees to the right, but he finally starts to look at the right things and places. whatever wrongs he has done, he tries his best to right them, buffer them at the very least. he’s quick to understand! forgive him this once! …please?

✘ romance with him is very comedic. he is in awe of you; like those dignified warriors he’s heard grandma talk to him about. he’s extremely giggly and eager to show off to you. if remus looks for excuses to be with you while you’re passing, sokka takes even more initiative and unrelentingly follows you every step of the way! this! is! annoying! but its also sort of endearing! they’re both dog boyfriends, sokka is just more of a golden retriever one!

✘ gives you tons and tons of nicknames relating to your interests. he calls you “mountain lady” ONCE and katara sends him flying. why is he so childish?

✘ takes the flirting as a challenge and then fucking loses. he is pathetic for you, you must understand. remus is soft, he is pathetic. he falls relatively fast and deep but he does not fall out so easily. the thing about sokka you might not expect is how similar the two of you are in mindset sometimes, strategies clashing and converging, something that draws you toward him

✘ he’s a man of tradition! expect him to take you out on dates at least once a week, never forgetting anniversaries or choosing weak gifts. he’s a very affectionate person, so be prepared to be showered in his love.

✘ he’s a genius when it comes to thinking together with you, the combination of your cooperation together enough to triumph over any problems together. the fire nation? thwarted every time without fail. though, he is plenty worried for you even with your abilities. in avatar, i think you’d be a bender. but he asks up on you lots and needs to make sure you’re ok like everyone else!

✘ sokka is very confrontational. you intellectualize all your emotions? sit down, lets see if the two of you can get some solutions to this. since you’re written it down, it’s definitely something that bothers you at least slightly - you always helped him, especially when it comes to furthering his maturity as a person and understanding the guilt he feels- of course he will help and support you back when you need it. he is a man that shows solidarity as a partner.

✘ a relationship with sokka is fluffy, like floating on clouds but with the bottom of your feet grazing the ground if you wish it to.

[a/n] - i enjoyed writing this matchup! sokka had rather smaller content as compared to remus, but i hope you’ll enjoy this too! 90% amazing matchups, with a fourtyfourcatss cats seal!

[oschvank]

[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about

PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE / @starrkc

Nelliel did not think accumulating so many books would warrant such an issue. At first, it was fine with the few she had. They were stackable and hidden from view. Then she began receiving more as gifts and who was she to decline? Thus, those stackable piles grew in size and were no longer hidden, but compiled against a wall.

Pesche and Dondachakka didn't think it fit to have those books on the floor, haphazardly stacked atop one another and ready to fall at any given moment. What if she wanted a book from the bottom? Too much work for Master Nelliel to bother with. So they made her a book shelf to organize everything accordingly. Easier to access. However, therein lies the problem.

"You can try by color," Starrk says casually, and Nelliel wrinkles her nose. She looks over and finds him laying on a mountain of pillows similarly organized to the one in his quarters. He's playing with a trinket in hand, not entirely engrossed in helping her solve her dilemma, but not entirely ignoring it, either. It's like when he visits and doesn't say much. When he doesn't want to be alone, but doesn't want to deal with other people or the whole talking part. It's the presence thing, the principle, and Nelliel gets it because she sometimes does it too.

"By color is sinful," Nelliel starts. She gazes back to the shelf. "Size, too. I can organize them from A-Z but then I won't be able to differentiate my favorites from the rest. There needs to be a clear distinction from the ones I've yet to read, too." She looks at a book for a second before an idea comes to mind. "Starrk, did you know that the world of the living have systems in place for their own books, too? For some libraries, they use the Dewey System which use digits to identify categories and can then be alphabetically organized by the authors last name. Although my collection isn't so large as a library, I think I'll use a similar approach to that system. A section for my favorite books, the unread, by their genre and then... ah, I can even fit my journals to the side, too."

[donnetellotheturtle]

Chapter 2

The fire kingdom

Elio was about a weeks ride away on donkey. The one thing Varian hadn’t expected was that it was so lonely. There were travelers and merchants on the road sure but no conversation lasted more than a couple minutes and being from Corona, he was unused to not being able to speak to the nearest person for at least an hour or two. It made him feel more isolated than he expected.

On the evening before he made it to Elio, he sat by a small fire, eating. Ruddinger munched on a piece of bread besides him as he fingered through his moms journal. Her research was enticing and it felt as if he was getting to know her through it. She had a way of describing things that made it sound so exciting.

“so apparently the first totem is in a volcano! But Elio has a bunch of them….which one would it be...”

He pulled out his own journal, making his own notes and theories on the totems.

~

“Hes going to look for the library.” Hugo reported as soon as he got into the tent.

“Hm…that means he’ll be heading to Elio first. Follow him, and get the relic first.”

Hugo nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

~

Varian woke up early to get to the kingdoms gates as soon as possible. It was very hot here. He guessed that was because of the volcanoes decorating the mountain peaks.

The gates were lavish and gigantic, the middle decorated with the symbol of Elio. As he came upon it his eyes drifted to the blown glass and obvious blacksmithery in the gate and in the walls.

“woah…”

“State your business.” On of the guards said.

Varian smiled. “Just here to see the city!”

The guard looked at him, then nodded at the other guard. “You from Corona?”

“Yes sirs. How could you tell?”

“Your bag…can we take a look at your caravan? Have to make sure you’re not smuggling anything.”

Varian nodded, and the process ended fairly quickly. He was let into the city. It was beautiful. The ground was covered with red rocks, there were houses with sliding doors, most of them were open and he saw kids some running around with ribbons and playing with toys that looked like dragons, foxes, tigers, qs well as kites. He saw a person playing a Huluqin. He listened to the music and heard people yelling out from stalls about the fresh food that was there.

“First things first guys…find a place to stay…”

He hopped off Prometheus and led him to a stable, paying the keeper a few coins for the night. He grabbed his bag from the caravan and walked out into the street. He looked through his moms journal, trying to figure out where to start.

Then there was a yell, screaming, and something whizzed behind him. He yelled out in surprise, turning quickly to where he heard the crash.

Sitting in the wreckage of what used to be a cabbage stand, was a small boy, around the age of 14, with almond eyes, black hair, and he was a bit chubby. But the most important thing he noticed was the fact that part of the kids shirt was still on fire.

“Holy…” He ran and started patting out the fire. “kid, you okay?”

He gave a weak thumbs up, clearly dazed by the impact.

He looked to the side where he saw what looked like a dragon puppet. Only it had pyrotechnics and a seat inside.

“What were you doing?”

The kid shook his head and stood up. “I was trying to make a flying dragon!”

Varian blinked. “uh huh”

“But instead of blasting off, it just blasted me…off of it.”

Varian sighed softly, rubbing his forehead. “kid you could have killed yourself!”

“you sound like my mom!”

“Well maybe shes….right.” Varian was having serious Daja Vu from this. “Huh…”

The kid was already over the dragon again. “Hm what went wrong…”

Varian then saw that there was still a fire. And it was going to hit the kid straight in the face.

“Hey get away from there!” Varian opened a corked bottle from his belt and threw it just as the explosion was about to go off. He pulled the kid out of the way as a bubble quickly encased it. A small crowd gathered to see the commotion.

The kid looked at him with wonder. “Wow…that was cool.”

Varian chuckled.

“MY CABBAGES!”

The kid chuckled nervously.

After everything was sorted out, Varian and him walked along the street.

“So, that was Alchemy?” He asked.

“Uh yeah. Look kid-“

“that’s awesome. I can’t make stuff, I’m usually just the kid who blows everything up…litteraly.”

“I don’t-“

“where did you learn to do that?”

“I taught myself. Now ki-“

“Wow! You’re so good at it I also taught myself.”

Varian sighed, looking at him.

“I’m Yong.” He said cheerfully, holding out a hand.

“….Varian.” He shook the boys hand. “You can’t be so reckless. Somebody could get hurt.”

“But you were here!” Yong said. “So maybe you could teach me not to make things blow up?”

Varian looked at Yong, then sighed. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I just have to find what I’m looking for and get going.”

“Ooh! What are you looking for?”

“None of your business, kid.”

“But I can help! No one knows Elio better than me.”

Varian paused, then sighed. “Alright. On one condition.”

“anything.”

“No explosives.”

Yong looked at the pack of fireworks on his hip, and sighed sadly.

A couple minutes later, the two sat on Yongs porch. Explosives carefully put away under the boys bed. Varian opened his moms book.

“So the place I’m looking for is in a volcano…but there’s three around here. Where to start?”

Yong looked at the book. “that’s the northern one. Id recognize it anywhere…it’s been dormant for years though.”

“Dormant?”

“All the lava is so far below the surface that no one’s concerned that it’s going to erupt any time soon. We learn about them in school. We even take field trips up to the top sometimes.”

Varian thought to himself. “hm. Can you take me there?”

“Yeah! I’ll pack some lunch!”

Varian chuckled. As Yong ran off, he couldn’t help but think of how much the kid reminded him of himself. For better or worse. He followed Yong inside.

He stood in the kitchen as Yong packed some food for them both.

“Hey where’s your parents?”

“Oh they’re at work! They wont be home until waaay after we get back.”

Varian nodded. “Okay…would they be okay with you being gone?”

“they won’t even know!”

“that doesn’t feel great.”

Yong shrugged and wrapped up the food, putting them into bags and putting them in his backpack. “Come on let’s go!”

Varian sighed, hoping he wouldn’t regret bringing Yong along.

It was 3 when they finally reached the volcano. They were loosing daylight faster that Varian would have liked.

“So, how do we get in?”

“Oh that’s easy! There’s a man made entrance!”

He followed Yong to the entrance where there was a person at a stand, fast asleep on their hand. There was a gate that he could easily leap over, but he figured the easiest way was paying the way in. Even with his few coin.

“Uh…excuse me?”

The person snored awake, nearly falling over. Then they looked at Varian, and sighed. “What?”

“Um…me and my friend would like to enter?”

The person nodded, pulling out two rather large paper tickets. “Two silver.”

Varian fished it out of his pockets and handed them over. They gave the tickets to the both of them and settled back down, seemingly ready to get back to their nap.

The two of them went through the gate and looked around at the main volcano. There was no body here. Which meant, they had no one that would disturb them. Varian turned to the journal as they walked deeper.

“So, the trial is towards the bottom of the volcano, but I can’t read this…it’s not in coronan.”

Yong gently pulled down Varians arm to see, then cocked his head to the side. “Oh! Elian!” He grinned. “give it here?”

“wait you can speak this?”

“Duh. Its my first language.”

“But everyone uses Coronan here?”

“Better to talk to tourists but all of us know Elian. It would be stupid if we didn’t.” He grinned as if he didn’t just say the thing that made Varian reexamine his biases.

Yong took the book and started reading. “So it says to find the first piece of the puzzle.”

“First piece?”

Yong shrugged. “Then it says, Down the swirling embers and jagged rocks, you’ll find your prize just awaiting a spark.”

“That doesn’t even rhyme!” Varian pouted. He loved a good rhyme. Yong chuckled.

“I’m not sure where that is…we don’t go that deep during the field trips.”

“Well, we’ve got time, I guess.”

“And lunch!”

Varian chuckled, and followed Yong deeper into the cave systems.

~

It took hours.

And Varian was very sure they were very lost.

He wasn’t even sure this was a path that people were allowed to take.

“Wanna take a break?” Yong asked.

Varian stopped walking, and sighed, sitting down. “Yeah…yeah that lunch sounds good right about now.”

Yong sat and pulled off his bag, grabbing out the two lunches, giving one to Varian. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s some leftovers from a big party my family had the other night.”

Varian opened the small box that the food was contained in. It was still steaming. Inside he saw food unlike the kind in corona.

Dumplings, chicken drenched in orange sauce, and some lo mein. He had heard about them of course, read about this food even. But he has never actually tasted it. All the Elian food in Corona burned his nostrils so bad he never actually had the want to try.

This didn’t seem spicy though.

Varian took a careful bite. His mouth exploded with flavor. He couldn’t help the happy noises that came out of his mouth, despite Yong giggling.

“This is delicious.”

Yong grinned. “my moms specialty. Im glad you like it!”

Varian ate his food with that same happy grin. He swore he’d be a little bit happier for the rest of his life.

“So, ive been meaning to ask you…” Yong started. Varian gave him his attention through a mouthful of noodles.

“Whats with the teal streak?”

Varian swallowed his food. “oh that? I don’t know. Something I’ve had since I was born…Maybe it’s cause I was close to the moonstone when I was a baby? Before my dad brought me to Corona, I mean. It’s just a theory though…not that it really matters anymore.”

Yong shrugged. “It still looks cool.”

Varian smiled. No one had really mentioned his streak before, much less think it was cool.

The two finished their food and Yong packed it back up. The two got back on their feet.

“So swirling embers. What do you think it means?” Yong asked.

Varian thought for a second. “could be a tunnel of fire?”

“Howd we get through?”

Varian just shrugged.

They traveled for a bit before passing by a glowing tunnel. Bright with glowing jewels. Varian paused, then backtracked. That had to be what they were looking for.

Slowly the two went down the tunnel. It was getting hotter as they went, which was not the greatest sign.

“Yong you said this place was dormant right?”

“Yeah…”

Varian winced at the boys tone but they couldn’t stop now. They were so close. “…Stay close to me.”

Yong did as he was told and they made it to the bottom. It was sweltering. All around were veins. Looking to carry gold. Varian bent down to look at them. They seemed to be in a rod shape , though they varied in sizes.

“huh…Volcanoes don’t usually make this stuff…it’s almost like someone put them here…maybe this is the prize the book was talking about.”

“First piece of the puzzle…what does that mean? What’s with these symbols? Give me a hint mom…”

Varian started messing with the veins, and saw as the pages shifted, as if someone were turning it. The staff of clarity.

He sat and read, seeing that with the formulas his mom had written, the staff of clarity could be formed from the gold. He smiled and started working.

It took a couple minutes, but in the test tube Varian had brought along, he had created them very formula he needed. All that was left to do was put it on the vein.

He took a deep breath, hoped the calculations were right, and poured it on.

Part of the vein fell open, dropping pieces of a large staff. Varian started putting them together as Yong looked at Varian strangely.

“So we got a staff?”

“The staff of clarity. I think it’ll help us with finding the fire totem.”

He finished, grinning. “all…” He stood. No one was there. “Done? Yong?”

The world had suddenly turned red. It reminded him all too much of the red rocks. “Yong where-“

“Varian!” His dad’s voice was loud in his ears.

“Dad!?”

He turned and he saw his father, being in amber again, reaching for him. “Dad!” He didn’t think about how his father could be there, much less encased in amber. He ran and nearly got to him, only to be just too late. Quirin was once again encased in amber. “No…no not again! Not again no!” The tears in his eyes sprung and he felt like he was 14 again.

Then he turned around, and he saw something almost worse. All of his loved ones choked in amber. He stepped back. “no…no, no.”

“This Is all your fault.”

He turned, seeing no one but himself, hands behind his back, dressed like he was when he teamed up with the saporians. He had this red glint in his eye.

“I…how did…”

“If you had just been a little more careful.”

-

Yong was panicking. As soon as Varian put together that staff, he’d gone catatonic, staring at the wall with this scary red glow in his eyes, sobbing and mumbling incoherently. He’d tried everything. Shaking him, smacking him, even asking him nicely to come out of his trance. But Varian didn’t budge.

Then he saw the book. He picked it up and the wind whipped it to the next page. There was another piece. And then it said to review the fire trials.

Yong processed this information. “your prize just awaiting a spark…” He looked around and saw something glittering. Running over he saw it was the final piece. A golden orb encased in stone. Yong had an idea how to get it out. Varian would kill him if he knew he’d stowed away a stick of fireworks in his sock just in case of emergencies.

He pulled it out, then swiped it against the ground to create the spark. “Hope this works!”

He threw it at the orb.

-

“You were the one who joined up with dangerous criminals.”

“Stop it.” Varian was on his hands and knees now, begging for his red tinted self to stop talking.

“Oh and erased the royals memories. Who’s to say you’re not just as bad. As stupid. As dangerous as you were back then.”

“Shut up.” Varian looked up at himself. His head cleared a bit as he took a deep breath. The illusion wavered for just a moment, not that he really noticed.

“Don’t like hearing the truth?”

Varian looked to the side, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. For once, the other him stopped talking.

“I was a grieving kid.” Varians voice shook as he spoke. “I was hurting. I’m still hurting. I didn’t make good choices.”

“understatement.”

“I’m not done.” Varian glared, slowly coming to his feet. “But I will never stop trying. So hit me with all you got. Nothings going to stop me from getting to that library.”

The other him looked to the side, seeing something Varian didn’t. Then, it turned blue and smiled. His genuine smile. “Good job kid.” The visage of himself disappeared.

Varian took a deep breath, blinking. He was back in reality, and Yong had just finished putting a piece of the staff in. He looked at Yong, taking a shaky breath.

“how did you…?”

“there was a final piece!” Yong said. “the clarity jade. It needed a spark to get out of the stone and lucky for us, I brought an extra firework.”

Varian paused, then grinned. “Yong you’re a genius!” he ruffled the kids hair. “Ill never tell you to leave your fireworks at home again!”

Yong laughed.

Varian looked down to the staff. “Was it…testing me?”

“Maybe that was the trial!” Yong said, then the two looked over at the sound of rocks moving, scratching against each other. The totem, the relic, was revealed. The two looked at each other.

Varian moved forward to grab it. He walked under the glowing stones and reached for it.

Another hand settled on his as he wrapped his hand around it.

In front of him was a boy with green eyes, an undercut and big round glasses. The two stared at each other.

“let go!” The boy started, tugging.

Varian didn’t, of course. “No you let go!”

The tug of war went back and forth and Yong watched confused.

“Finders keepers!” The blonde said sticking out his tongue before finally using his other hand to push Varian off. He moved quickly.

“Hey! We did the trial! Its ours!” Varian said as the boy was already making his exit up another tunnel.

He just laughed. “Thanks for doing the dirty work!”

He threw a smoke bomb, and both the boy and the relic were gone.

~

It must have been midnight when the two finally found their way out of the dormant volcano. Varian had thought about searching for the boy but Yong had a point about getting lost. They’d have to hunt that guy down for the relic after a good night’s rest.

“I’m sorry about the relic, Varian.” Yong said.

Varian sighed. “Its okay…we’ll find him again. I’m exhausted though, and I need to find a place to sleep tonight.”

“you can stay at my house!”

Varian raised an eyebrow. “wouldn’t your parents be concerned about a strange boy in your house?”

“Nah. I have a lot of siblings. They wouldn’t notice another kid!”

With boundless energy, Yong led Varian back to town.

~

Hugo grinned at his success as he walked back into camp. “Dooooonnnnnnniiieee!” he crowed.

Donella herself was sitting by a campfire next to her right hand Cyrus, eating dinner. She grinned. “You actually did it.”

Hugo thought about tossing it, but decided its a bad idea, moving and handing it off instead. “yeah. Thanks to that varian guy.”

“What?”

Hugo nodded. “Yeah, he was already there. But not quick enough to get the relic before me.”

Donella frowned, thinking. “so he is searching.”

A long pause and Donella had a plan cooked up. She handed the relic back to him. “Taje this back, join his party. Help him find the relics.”

“…okay? Why?”

She sighed, all but rolling her eyes. “Makes the work easier on us, plus, easier to keep track of what he does and doesn’t know. You’ll report to me anything you find out. Understood?”

Hugo paused, looking at the totem, then nodded. “Yeah. I won’t let you down.”

~

Yong wasn’t lying when he said his parents wouldn’t notice another kid. There were at least 7 younger kids running around Yongs small house when they got back, both the parents trying to put them to sleep.

“Who’s this?” his mother asked after she and his father fretted over him for being gone so long with no warning or anything. “he looks like a panda with those eye bags.”

“This is my new friend Varian! We went to the volcano together today!”

She looked Varian up and down, examining him. It made varian feel self conscious.

“You hungry?” she finally asked.

Varian nodded shyly. She smiled and pulled him into the kitchen as her husband finally succeeded on putting yongs younger siblings to sleep.

Yong himself, fell asleep at the table while his mother was cooking. Varian smiled as he took the small boy to bed, being reminded of his own dad carrying him when he was little.

“Now I want you to eat and go to bed young man. You look like you smudged your makeup.”

Varian chuckled. “yes ma’am.”

It wasn’t long until Varian had happy taste buds and a full stomach. He was led to the only available sleeping area which was a couch. It was better then a floor.

He was asleep within minutes.

<

Find this on A03!

[denim-mixtapes]

" Drawing small doodles in each other’s notebooks, when one day your friend writes ‘I like you’ " with Eddie?

I. Love. This. And I was hoping someone would ask for this one!!

Title: Written Confession Pairing: Eddie Munson/GN!Reader Word Count: 982 (Once again, LMAO)

The library is so quiet you can hear a pin drop, the silence encouraged and endorsed by the absolutely stereotypical woman behind the desk. She’s already shushed you and Eddie twice, and you fear that if she has to do so a third time she may actually drag you out by your ears, so you’ve resorted to scrawling notes in each other’s notebooks. 

You’re at the community library working on the newest campaign for Hellfire, a homebrew campaign that Eddie admitted to biting off a little more than he can chew, so he recruited your help. You’ve been friends for a while, but only grew closer over the last year, after he cornered you after the school play and convinced you to join Hellfire. 

“It’s practically the same as Drama!” He pleaded, “except you can write your own script! Come on, we need a Rogue!”  

Something about his puppy dog eyes and the hopeful smile he sent you, tongue poking out between his teeth earnestly, made you agree. So here you are a year later, helping him write the backstory to his big bad evil vampire man. Granted, the writing came to a grinding halt about a half hour ago. Now you’re passing your designated DnD journal back and forth adding onto the same doodle line by line. 

It started off as a mountain that you tried to draw to depict the vampire’s lair, but Eddie turned the squiggly line into an angry unibrow on the villain’s face, and you both kept adding onto it from there. The giggling from that is what resulted in your first violent shush-ing. 

Eddie dramatically held a finger to his lips, holding back a snicker and pretending to shush you further. 

Then, when you added a cape to the paper man, an addition that Eddie clearly did not agree with, he smacked the table, his heavy metal rings clattering loudly against the wood and his hair whipping around him as he shook his head and wagged a finger at you in disapproval. 

This earns you another shush, and you giggle, whispering, “what? Capes are cool!” 

Passing the book back and forth again, you scoot your chair closer to Eddie’s so you can both hunch over it at the same time. He flips to a new page, starting another collaborative doodle. You lean into each other, shaking with silent laughter at each new line or squiggle, and soon enough, your head is resting on his shoulder as you watch him color in the…pirate hat? Sure, the pirate hat on this current drawing. 

He holds out the pencil to you, and you take it with a smile, unsure of what to add to the piece. You decide to write a message instead. 

I like this… 

Passing it back, you  can practically hear the sarcasm in his voice when he writes out his own and draws an arrow pointing to the pirate. 

yeah - hes a pretty cool dude

You roll your eyes and lift your head to look at him, scrunching your nose and shaking your head. He hasn’t offered the pencil back yet, so you reach out to pluck it from his fingers. He holds his hands up in defense, then motions to the paper with a ‘by all means…’ gesture.

Sure, but he’s cooler. 

Your own arrow points to Eddie. 

He puts on the dramatics, puffing his chest and faking a deep bow, his tongue poking between his teeth as he smiles and you try to hold back more laughter. 

But he isn’t getting the hint. To be fair, you could be more forward, and maybe deciding to admit that your feelings are a little more than ‘friendly’ in a setting where you can’t speak wasn’t the best idea on your part, but now that you’ve started you really don’t want to stop or you’ll lose the nerve. 

Eddie holds his hand out for the pencil, but you shake your head and scrawl out another note, punctuated with a little heart at the end.

I like YOU, Ed. Lots. 

He stares at the paper for a minute too long, and you start to get nervous. Maybe you’ve read into things wrong, maybe he hugs everyone a little too long and lays his head in your lap at Hellfire in a totally platonic way…but then again, there’s color creeping up his neck, a redness touching the tips of his ears when he tucks his hair back, and he swallows thickly as he looks at the paper. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and you smile meekly, almost apologetically, and shrug. 

He smiles back. It’s soft and unsure, but there’s an excitement in his eyes and he reaches out for the pencil. 

Underneath your admission he draws two little letters, his initial and your own, and draws a heart around them. He taps the paper with the eraser with a note of finality, and the smile he was holding back breaks out fully across his face, wrinkling the corners of his eyes and baring his teeth. 

You giggle out loud this time, unable to stop the loud, “for real?” from coming out of your mouth. 

“For a while now, yeah.” He nods, his hand falling to your knee and squeezing with a laugh of his own. The sound of it is music to your ears, but its far too loud in the quiet room. 

The librarian appears over his shoulder, her arms crossed and foot tapping. Eddie closes the book with a slam and throws it in his backpack. “Sorry ma’am,” he says, turning up the charm and holding a hand over his heart. He stands, reaching out to take your hand and pull you up with him, “We were just leaving!” He drags you out into the cool night air by your hand, both of you spouting excited laughter and a very annoyed librarian in your wake.

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

Unexpected, Corunir?

corunir hangs out at zudrugund! and then there are visitors :)

Books of herb-lore and children’s rhymes, reports on the great water-wheels below and the journals of  long-dead dwarves. Any of it interesting enough- the ones he can read, anyway- but nothing that makes any good sense of Nár’s ramblings. Some give context, at least, for the things he references, but that does nothing to make it make sense. But perhaps he is looking for sense where there is none.

There is one journal that catches his eye. This one has not been often opened, he thinks, and when he turns the pages they crack and the binding sheds dust- or maybe dried mud. Not much of this one has been filled, but he can read what there is.

He thinks soon after that he should not, that this is someone else’s life, terribly personal and not for another’s eyes.

Frithgeir had told them Nár’s tale, in broad strokes. Vague as it was, it still cut nearer Corunir’s heart than he expected. Perhaps that was why he had volunteered to remain at Zudrugund while the rest of the Company returned to Lhanuch, even when Golodir had looked at the library with indifference and declined to stay. 

This journal was Nár’s, he thinks. It speaks of a long journey over the mountains, and of his king, and of waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

He bid me remain, and so I did.

But Thrór had not come back, and Nár had not gone after him, and they had both returned in pieces.

Corunir shuts the journal with a harsh snap, loud in the cavernous, empty library, and shoves it ungently back in its place. It is not for him. Not for him, though he knows Nár’s grief all too well.

It gives him no great insight that he had not come by already, but his heart aches for the old, lonely dwarf- and for Frithgeir, too, as unwilling to leave Nár as Nár had been to leave his lord. They must often want for company here, high in the mountains and far from any friendly face, much less those of their kin.

A pounding comes at the doors to the library. Corunir looks up. The pounding comes again, heavier than the knock of the Rangers would be, if they would knock rather than enter unannounced. Corunir approaches the door. From the inner halls, Frithgeir appears as well. There’s no sign of Nár.

“Who goes there?” Frithgeir calls through the heavy door, sliding aside the cover over a narrow peephole. 

“We’re looking for someone,” a stranger calls back. None of the Company’s voices, for certain. Orcish, Corunir thinks. He draws his sword. Frithgeir glances his way, and takes an axe of his own from a stand near the door.

“Well, we don’t have anyone,” Frithgeir says. “So you had best be on your way. It’s no good being caught up here in a storm.” The stranger laughs, then, and pounds on the door again, calling to someone behind him in a different tongue.

“Frithgeir,” Corunir says urgently, “is there a side door? Any other exit?”

“One that comes out far too near this one to be useful,” Frithgeir says grimly. “There are others deeper in the halls, but I don’t know where Nár is and it may take longer to find him than we have.”

Corunir jumps back from the door as it shudders under some terrible strength. Troll? Battering ram? What do they even want? “Find Nár,” he says after a moment’s deliberation. “Tell me where the near door is. I’ll buy you what time I can.” Frithgeir looks at him sharply.

“What, you think you can take all of them on yourself? Do you hear how many are out there?”

Corunir smiles grimly. “Not at all. I may be able to delay them long enough for you and Nár to escape, though.” Frithgeir stares at him for a long moment, unreadable.

“This way,” he says abruptly, leading Corunir at a run through the halls of the abandoned delving. They come to a narrow door hidden in an empty room and catch their breaths, listening to the pounding echoing through Zudrugund. “On your mark,” Frithgeir says, readying his axe. Corunir looks at him and he glares back. “This is my home,” he says darkly. “Whatever they want from it, they will not have it.” Corunir hesitates, but there is no time to argue, and who is he to deny Frithgeir this?

“Send out the old dwarf,” the orc-commander’s voice says, muffled through the door. Frithgeir’s face darkens with rage. “And then maybe the rest of you can go.”

“They will not have Nár,” he snarls, wrenching open the door and flying out with a terrible cry. Corunir mutters to himself for only a moment and follows, pulling the door shut behind him and falling on the orcs with Frithgeir. There really are quite a lot of them, he thinks, and considers the long, long road down the mountain, and despairs of any help. We’ll make the best of this, then.

[mythprompts]

AESTHETICS:   THE   NINE   DIVINES. part   one.   please   repost,   not   reblog!

𝓲. 𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩, the pattern of a dragon’s scales.   bronze statues.   the concept of infinity.   fatherhood, biological or not.   hard-earned & long-lived wisdom.    a strict mentor but kind guide.    the terrifying passage of time.   sundials.   heroic sacrifice.   martyrdom, wanted or not.   a crone that knows all.   older than the bones of the earth.   victory that tastes like ash.   blood-red rubies.   the concept of because fate wills it so.   right versus wrong.   divine justice.   almost godlike.   a dragon’s roar that shakes the land.   an array of blazing comets.   the violet-red sky at dusk.   a fire that never goes out.   

𝓲𝓲. 𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘢𝘺, a well-sealed tomb.   a stone-built mausoleum.   the stillness of graveyards.   moss growing over headstones.   graves so old that no writing is legible.   the fragility of mortals.   a murder of crows.   pitch-black skies with no stars.   a sudden chill.   superstitions.   visions of the dead.   funeral rites.   burning a body to release the soul.   digging up dirt with your bare hands.   the calls of a raven.   a new moon.   memento mori.   black butterflies.   soulless eyes.   taking one's last breath.   

𝓲𝓲𝓲. 𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢, embracing femininity.   comfortable in the nude.   soft skin.   rays of sun through the clouds.   hazy sunsets.   hypnotic gaze.   accepting of all.   no judgment.   in love with love.   painting with a lover.   bathing in rivers.   blooming gardens.   the afterglow of sex.   sensuality.   lover of fine arts.   swans & doves.   long hair tumbling over collarbones & shoulders.   kisses over bare thighs.   luminous pearls.   slices of oranges hand-fed.   golden mirrors.

𝓲𝓿. 𝘫𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴, scholarly debates.   curiosity.   willing to learn.   vast libraries of untapped knowledge.   leather book-covers.   late night studying.   mountains of scrolls.   a game of logic.   runes.   a weathered journal.   pressed flowers.   watercolor paints.   ink-stained palms.   glasses slipping over nose.   a teacher that truly teaches.   remembering history so it shall not be repeated.   an enjoyer of puzzles & riddles.

𝓿. 𝘬𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘩, a silver mare.   wispy clouds over a mountaintop.   the scent before it rains.   soft caresses of grass against uncovered skin.   the vast blueness of the sky at midday.   pale blue roses.   darkening clouds as a storm rolls in.   the pitter-patter of gentle rain.   the thundering of a heavy downpour.   four-leaf clovers.   healthy green fields.   the whistle of the wind against your ear.   pure-white butterflies.   a mother bear with her cubs.   nymphs that live ‘round creeks & rivers.   nature spirits that help those who respect the world & hinder those who do not.   helping others even at great cost.   secretive meetings.   a beautiful melody.   a soft-toned voice.   not a mother, but a mother enough. 

[wastheheart]

AESTHETICS: THE NINE DIVINES. part one. please repost, not reblog!

𝗶. 𝙰𝙺𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚂𝙷. the pattern of a dragon’s scales. bronze statues. the concept of infinity. fatherhood, biological or not. hard-earned & long-lived wisdom. a strict mentor but kind guide. the terrifying passage of time. sundials. heroic sacrifice. martyrdom, wanted or not. a crone that knows all. older than the bones of the earth. victory that tastes like ash. blood-red rubies. the concept of because fate wills it so. right versus wrong. divine justice. almost godlike. a dragon’s roar that shakes the land. an array of blazing comets. the violet-red sky at dusk. a fire that never goes out.

𝗶𝗶. 𝙰𝚁𝙺𝙰𝚈. a well-sealed tomb. a stone-built mausoleum. the stillness of graveyards. moss growing over headstones. graves so old that no writing is legible. the fragility of mortals. a murder of crows. pitch-black skies with no stars. a sudden chill. superstitions. visions of the dead. funeral rites. burning a body to release the soul. digging up dirt with your bare hands. the calls of a raven. a new moon. memento mori. black butterflies. soulless eyes. taking your last breath.

𝗶𝗶𝗶. 𝙳𝙸𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙰. embracing femininity. comfortable in the nude. soft skin. rays of sun through the clouds. hazy sunsets. hypnotic gaze. accepting of all. no judgment. in love with love. painting with a lover. bathing in rivers. blooming gardens. the afterglow of sex. sensuality. lover of fine arts. swans & doves. long hair tumbling over collarbones & shoulders. kisses over bare thighs. luminous pearls. slices of oranges hand-fed. golden mirrors.

𝗶𝘃. 𝙹𝚄𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚂. scholarly debates. curiosity. willing to learn. vast libraries of untapped knowledge. leather book-covers. late night studying. mountains of scrolls. a game of logic. runes. a weathered journal. pressed flowers. watercolor paints. ink-stained palms. glasses slipping over nose. a teacher that truly teaches. remembering history so it shall not be repeated. an enjoyer of puzzles & riddles.

𝘃. 𝙺𝚈𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙷. a silver mare. wispy clouds over a mountaintop. the scent before it rains. soft caresses of grass against uncovered skin. the vast blueness of the sky at midday. pale blue roses. darkening clouds as a storm rolls in. the pitter-patter of gentle rain. the thundering of a heavy downpour. four-leaf clovers. healthy green fields. the whistle of the wind against your ear. pure-white butterflies. a mother bear with her cubs. nymphs that live ‘round creeks & rivers. nature spirits that help those who respect the world & hinder those who do not. helping others even at great cost. secretive meetings. a beautiful melody. a soft-toned voice. not a mother, but a mother enough.