#rites of flame and darkness and stuff

[furcas-knight-of-hell]

Mr Furcas, I am writing you to enquire upon your studies of pyromancy. After examining the syllabus I have been unable to find any mention of certain variations in the form taken by some more complex incantations. More specifically ones involving the creation of flame pillars, as I have observed some individuals summoning columns with a flater peak (similar to a hearth fire), whilst the same incantation cast by another results in a more singular tongue of flame (much like a candle). If you have any information on the matter it would be appreciated, yours [anonymous].

Depends on your brimstone seal, most of it is down to personal preference and purpose, but for the iconic pillar of flame look from the (spits) bible you're gonna want something that can invoke not only the sulfur demons but also the windstorm rite of the ancient desert blasphemies.

In any case you can't go wrong with the basic carved sigil of Umaglu-Luku-Pu speckled with the blood of a virgin she-djinn.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[the-greatest-magic-of-all]

With such a God-focused season, one day, once Junior Year is finished and I have both the time and energy to do it, I want to make a Fantasy High God AU zine. It'd be from the pov of a mythologist/theologian in Spyre who's found strange links between minor deities throughout different regions' pantheons.

Half-Elves have a God of Dance and Flames who has been said to have defeated a Tiefling vagabond (and tamed his Hellhound mount) and charmed Fire itself with only a dance and his silk battle sheet. And if you look deep enough into his history there are rare depictions of him wearing an oddly shaped pendant and riding into battle with a sling-wielding Goblin peeking out of his rucksack. Interestingly enough, there's a minor Goblin God of Justice and Mysteries, the son of a Goblin Folk Hero and the Goblin Goddess of Knowledge, Laws, and Justice, who famously wields his father's enchanted sling. Though he and his father are often shown with angelic wings. So, why would he dally with a God so closely associated with Fiends?

Tieflings have a trickster Goddess of Music, Rebellion, and Devotion. The daughter of an Archdevil and a Wood Elven Goddess of Archery & the Wilderness. She's said to be a paramour of a Half-Phoenix Pirate Goddess of Wizardry and Knowledge and once toured the lands, performing with a Half-Orc companion. A lot of artistic recreations of that tour depict the Half-Orc companion with flower motifs that correspond with a Gnomish/Half-Orcish God of Tinkering and Rage. One that once outwitted a Sphynx and regained his spurned Saytr paramour's love by speaking to/reaching the stars with the help of a band of Tinkerer Gnomes.

There are tales of a Twice Risen Goddess who was once the chosen one of the Demigod Helio, but took one look at him and thought she could do better. With the wisdom to raise Gods from the dead and remove unholy rites without any divine power other than her own, this God-Saint of Doubt travels across Spyre not to spread her own religion but to inquire about others. This deep curiosity is probably how she ended up in some Fallinel depictions of the First Elven Oracle, who upon death ascended to becoming the Goddess of Sight, Intelligence and Righteous Fury. There are even short hymns written about the Oracle foreseeing the God-Saint's rise (against the Elven Moon Goddess' wishes) and of the God-Saint banishing some dark entity from possessing the Oracle with only a profane curse of its name.

And even more stuff connecting them all. Like the fact that all of them have tales of them defeating an Ancient Red Dragon. Or the tales of The Festival of the Crab King: a strange, delirious story of mortals witnessing a euphoric revelry of the deific kind that involved all these Gods from different pantheons.

[hua-fei-hua]

curious as to what you have to say about the new lantern rite trailer .......

(other thoughts which were not articulated in this screenshot were "hey remember how the speculated reason for why they had three character banners during 1.3 was bc they didn't want to release hu tao, a funeral director, during lunar new year bc it would be bad luck?" and "of COURSE they finally decide to explore hu tao a bit more during this patch cycle, since death is inescapable in natlan thanks to the ode of resurrection")

dumping the rest under a cut lol

obvs VERY excited to learn more abt the rituals surrounding death and the afterlife in genshin bc um i <3 themes grief and mourning in fiction, but also bc it makes me curious abt what this will reflect abt the lore in natlan, esp since lunar new year (n thus lantern rite, by extension) falling in the later half of the patch suggests to me that they expect players to complete the natlan aq finale before experiencing this year's lantern rite.

hu tao is a character whose arc has always been very clear to me by nature of, like, an interest in gore and morbid things maturing into an interest in grief and death (which was very much helped along by that one college english class i took which was themed around the death industry and the ask a mortician youtube channel (which i had already been watching for like a year prior to taking that class. btw)), so i'm very keen on the serious expansion of her character and showcasing the part of her who does understand the weight of death and mourning and the roles these things play in our sense of humanity.

i've also been holding for a while now that natlan's true ideal is likely closer to that of "hope" than of "war" (and that the writers just kind of painted themselves into a corner n had to run with what they said earlier on), but the immolation of the main lantern in the trailer (seemingly as part of this year's lantern lighting ceremony) does also remind me of the fact that funerals do often have flames bc of like, funeral pyres and cremation. like, hu tao's pyro vision felt like it fell a lot more into place once we started exploring natlan n death became a part of the major story

and i don't think this conflicts with my assertion of "hope" being at the core of natlan, bc i think a clearer way of articulating myself would actually be that natlan structures its nation and its culture around "war", which at its center holds "hope" as its purpose (similar to how fontaine is the nation of "justice", but held an exploration of "truth" at the core of its story) and in turn allows for the exploration of other facets of war and conflict

though at the same time, positing that natlan revolves around hope (which keeps the sacred flame, That Thing Which Revives Characters After Death, alive n stuff) when you're only revived after battle if your team wins is kind of interesting to think abt when mulling over this intersection of hope and war, bc isn't the point of hope that it's able to keep going, to continue to produce miracles, even beyond the point of rationality, which is why you should never give up on it (citation: every classical magical girl show ever)? but at the same time, it is true that you can put too much faith and stock into something that was doomed to fail, and the culmination of that failure can shock you into losing hope for a while, or lead you to never attempt that again, even if the next time you encounter a situation like that, you're much more capable and prepared...

anyway this isn't so much abt lantern rite itself anymore as it is just abt the 5.3 version trailer but i do like that the final boss of natlan is just this giant fuckoff dragon with not one, but TWO swords, and also is just an impersonation made of darkness of the pyro sovereign, which would otherwise be the embodiment of fire (and therefore unavoidably light, to at least some extent). i'll have to poke around and review the lore surrounding the pyro sovereign in-game to make any real claims here, but the fact that the trailer has him talking abt using "the power of darkness" to "prove [our] efforts futile" and that "you [mavuika] have destroyed this world's hope with your own hands" is very cool very much looking forward to the contrasts btwn light and darkness, hope and despair (or should i perhaps say futility?) next patch. speaking of light and darkness, i do also remember the version livestream for enkanomiya release when the devs talked abt how they designed the area with the intent of exploring the contrasts btwn light and darkness in mind, but that's really digressing now lol

returning to the lantern rite thing, i also think that xiao would make for a good choice for one of the core characters in the plotline because of the fact that he also deals in death, he's been having this thing abt allowing himself to remember his dead comrades alongside his arc where he learns how to live... it's very fun to see this question of, "who are you still living for? the dead? or the living?" perhaps reflect on the turning point he had back in the chasm in the version story

and anyway, if lantern rite doesn't expand on all that shit through at least the very easy connection to the new year --> symbol of renewal and fresh starts, then i will be sad and perhaps send dawei ge a strongly worded letter.

[yui-kuromori]

Okay but please consider:

The Black Phone supernatural (creatures not the show) AU.

Robin is a witch who also practices Santeria. Finney and Gwen are both banshees, just like their mother, Billy is a misse, Bruce is a vampire and both Griffin and Vance are werewolves.

So, Bruce was bitten by a vampire as a kid and was pretty much horrified. He knew that he would stop aging and become a full immortal vampire as soon as he drank human blood so he was essentially starving himself to death. That’s when he meets Vance, a born werewolf (his dad was a werewolf as well, and abandoned his mother when Vance was younger) who offers his own blood instead. Since Vance is not human, and therefore has no human blood, Bruce never becomes immortal and ages normally, but he is weaker than a full vampire would be.

Robin learned Santeria from his grandmother and European witchcraft from his aunt (who married into the family). He rarely uses it for his own benefit, only doing routine rites and acts of worship. He does however, use it shamelessly to protect his friends and punish those who have hurt those he loves. He helped Finney and Gwen figure out their newfound banshee abilities.

Finney and Gwen thought that they were human for a really long time. They knew Robin was a witch, and he even taught them some basic tarot/protection stuff. They discovered they weren’t human when Finney was kidnapped by the Grabber, who had been on a killing spree across the country for years. Finney had been his first victim in Denver and his last victim in life. All the Grabber’s past victims helped him to survive naughty boy. In the end he let out a scream so loud, the Grabber’s eyes and ears bled and the glass windows shattered. While Gwen’s visions are clearer, Finney is better at talking to the dead. He’s also the only one that can do the banshee scream.

Billy is a nisse, a household protector. If you have watched Hilda, please imagine Tontu. Much like him, Billy can teleport using the “empty spaces” inside households and for years it was the secret of how he was the fastest paperboy in town. He loves animals, winter and warm fireplaces, but has once or twice caused mayhem in the houses of people who were rude to him or his friends.

Vance is a born werewolf, the most knowledgeable one of the supernatural in the group safe maybe from Robin. His mother knew about it and did her best to help him during the full moons. He absolutely sees the other boys as “pack” and became very protective of them over the years.

Griffin was turned by a rogue werewolf, without his consent. Vance immediately took him under his wing, helping him with his shifts, and keeping him safe from hunters.

Some extra stuff

Finney creeps everyone out. He has those big, scary eyes of his that look like they can see through your soul and he knows just a bit too much to be comfortable. Even his friends get unsettled by him sometimes.

Gwen specializes in divination. She learns everything from tarot to flame reading. She’s almost never wrong and fully uses it to her advantage. She knows gossip weeks before it happens.

Billy’s eyes reflect light in the dark like a cat. During a sleepover, he scared the shit out of Vance with them.

Everyone learned how to cook porridge for him as well. He eats it with butter.

While not sleeping in a coffin, Bruce does sleep about once a week in a wooden box packed with native soil.

Vance often picks Griffin up by the scruff of the neck. He also tends to just rest a hand there when he’s around Griffin or anyone smaller than him.

Robin braids protection spells into his, Gwen’s and Vance’s hair.

Everyone gets a witch bottle from Robin.

Full moons are a full group event. They stick around Vance and Griffin to make sure that wont hurt anyone or themselves and Robin does a lot of spell work/ tool charging during this time. Gwen also does full moon tarot reading for everyone every time.

If Finney gets too emotional, the timbre of his voice begins to shift to a banshee scream.

When he cries it always sound like wails as well.

When she gets older, Gwen starts getting white hairs very early. By the time she’s 20, almost half her hair is silver, just like her mother’s.

Bruce has to wear SPF 100 sunscreen and sunglasses most of the time. If not, he has a baseball cap.

Griffin can’t use any type of scented shampoo or body wash because of his very sensitive nose. He ends up using a lot of baby products.

According to Bruce, Finney’s blood tastes like “it’s beginning to rot”

Bruce, Finney and Gwen are always cold.

Vance and Griffin are always a little too warm.

Robin is almost always barefoot, unless he’s at school.

Billy, if left alone in a room, will always snuggle in between two pieces of furniture, or the small space in between the bed and the wall.

[just-horrible-things]

I posted 451 times in 2022

That's 81 more posts than 2021!

188 posts created (42%)

263 posts reblogged (58%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jaws-and-canines

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I tagged 433 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#others' writing - 156 posts

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#au: chewtoy - 36 posts

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#prompts and ideas - 31 posts

#others' stuff - 30 posts

#chewtoy!ariadne - 29 posts

#ariadne milonas - 28 posts

#unlikely salvation - 25 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#wanted to try and convey night time with the colours but i'm honestly not sure if this works or is just too dark

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

They gasp and shudder in her arms, fingers clinging feebly to her shirt. When they look up at her, their eyes barely stay open. There's a smear of blood across their cheek. 

"Did…" they rasp weakly, "Did I do… a good job?"

She looks around at the carnage on every side. The strewn wreckage. The flames still roaring, close enough that the pair of them feel the heat. 

She looks down at their injuries, their torn clothes, the exhausted heave of their chest. 

She takes a deep breath. 

"No," she says. "You really screwed this one up." Against her shoulder, they wheeze a thready laugh. "Yeah," they agree, eyelids fluttering. "I guess… I really did."

85 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

#4

“What are you giving me?” the prisoner asks. The fever distorts his voice, makes it unfamiliar, like someone else is speaking from his throat. “It is called terizocam.” The mask and goggles and hairnet make the doctor seem scarcely human, but her hands are gentle. “I think it will make you better.”

He barely feels the needle. The drug stings a little as it goes in, but not a lot. Almost more an itch than a pain.

“... you think? You don’t know?” “Maybe it will harm you. I do not think it will harm you.”

The needle goes into a bag marked BIOHAZARD. The doctor puts a little fabric plaster over the injection site, as if the prisoner is a child.

“You don’t know,” he repeats. His thoughts move like oil. “This is… I’m a guinea pig.” “I am afraid so.” “You can’t do that,” he protests weakly. “It’s not… it’s illegal…” “Someone must be the ‘guinea pig’,” the doctor says. “You are very sick. With no medicine, I think you will die. This drug might help you.” “Or it might kill me.” “I do not think it will kill you. It has not killed anyone else.”

The prisoner shudders as the room flips from unbearably hot to freezing cold once again. He has been shivering so long that it hurts.

“I don’t want to be a lab rat,” he whispers. “If the drug makes you more sick,” says the doctor, “you tell me. If there are side effects, I will help you. I do not want to harm you. I want you to get well.” “But I don’t get a choice.” “No,” she agrees. “I am sorry.”

104 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

#3

Sources

Magic always has a price, and most often that price is measured in suffering.

The first of the sorcerers used their own pain, in rites of scarification and coal-walking, of harrowing and mortification of the flesh.

But magicians are enterprising creatures, and soon turned to sources outside of themselves.

The courtly mages use condemned criminals.

Any city of sufficient size produces a steady supply of miscreants. While lesser criminals go to the gallows, the most reviled vanish into the deep labyrinths beneath the palaces to fuel the great works of their betters.

Out here in the hills, life doesn't come so cheap. How often do you see a murder out here? Not in my lifetime.

Our mages take familiars for their sources, and never will you see such a miserable creature under the sun.

Some familiars are condemned, like their shorter-lived cousins beneath the courts -- sentenced by a magistrate, or purchased from a city dungeon and dragged out here to the hills.

Some are debt-slaves, paying off with blood and misery the debts they could not pay with coin.

Some are even apprentices, enticed with promises of power to call their own some day -- if they survive the demands of the master long enough to see it. Whether any ever graduate from such wretched tutelage, well, who can say.

Magicians are crafty creatures, and not renowned for kindness.

The wise make no bargains with them, and keep well away from the places where magicians make their lairs.

Who is to say whether the scarred creatures that creep at their heels were ever given fair trial, whether they owe a rightful debt, or whether they were simply snatched from shaded woods and lonely mountain trails?

We don't travel alone, up here in the hills, and we don't trust lightly.

178 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#2

"See, you're worth a pretty penny, but not nearly as much as I'll get for bringing in the rest of your little nest. So I'm willing to cut you a deal -- you lead me to your hidey-hole, and I'll let you slip the net."

267 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Today's mood: gloves.

Stylish black leather gloves, fitted as close as a second skin.

Gloved fingers gliding over bare, vulnerable skin. Tipping a chin up. Gloved hands wrapped lovingly around a throat.

Fingerless gloves. Gloves with hard plastic reinforcement over the knuckles for more effective beatings.

Tough work gloves. Wear-resistant fibres rough and abrasive against narrow, bruised wrists. Gloved hands dragging a struggling body.

Black gloves, knuckles cracking before they get to work.

Bright coloured gloves, a distinctive splash of colour that will always remind the victim of their attacker's hands.

Gloved hands cupping the side of the face. A gloved thumb digging in under the jaw, digging into a bruise. Gloved fingers tracing over the marks left by the whip.

Gloves protecting the torturer's hands from their tools -- barbed wire, sharp metal, a hot brand.

Prison guards wearing gloves rather than deign to touch the prisoners they manhandle.

Latex or nitrile gloves suggesting that the subject is contaminated, too filthy to touch. Or that it's not safe to touch whatever substance they are about to be introduced to.

Surgical gloves.

Delicate formal gloves on a villain who doesn't like to get their hands dirty. Silk clad fingers elegantly curled round the stem of a glass, watching an underling carry out their will.

And then of course, the moment when their temper snaps and the gloves come off.

272 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lubdubsworld]

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) ( Complete )

Summary : Friends with benefits? Or maybe Enemies who just happen to fuck? Areum and Jungkook love driving each other crazy, but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1 

 Chapter 2 

 Chapter 3

 Chapter 4

 Chapter 5  

Chapter 6  

Chapter 7

Chapter 8 ( Final ) 

Something about sitting on the counter in Jungkook’s kitchen, wearing nothing but his shirt and chopping carrots , while the clock read 2.20 AM felt so right, that I couldn’t stop grinning. 

Jungkook was singing softly and apparently singing was yet another thing he was ridiculously good at.

“You’re singing at our wedding. You sound like an angel.” I declared, pointing one red veggie at him.

Jungkook laughed.

“Sure, what song?”

“Something sweet and nice and-”

“ Take off those heels- Lay on my bed- Whisper dirty secrets as I’m pulling on your hair.....” 

I glared at him. 

“absolutely not.”

“Aww Come on... “ Jungkook gave me the full brunt of his puppy eyes, “We should be true to ourselves and lets be real, yes I enjoy being corny and romantic with you but...it’s in the bed that we truly shine as a couple.” He grinned, bunny teeth poking out in an entirely too adorable way considering that he wanted to sing a fucking sex song at our ‘not-even-sure-if-its-happening wedding’ . 

“No one else needs to know that...” I shuddered. My sister would expire on the spot. 

“ They will when we sneak out at the reception to have sex in the closet.” 

“In my wedding dress? Yeah right.” I rolled my eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes glittered. 

“We’re going to be married in the Maldives. You’re going to be in a bikini.” He said casually. 

I blinked.

“A bikini?”

“Yes. A bikini. The kind I can undo with just a couple of tugs on a string. “ 

“You’ve...given this a lot of thought.” I smirked.

He nodded.

“I am...but only because it’s damn near impossible to think of anything else when you’re in front of me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”.

He shrugged,

“Even picked out a ring.”

“Liar.” I hissed and he laughed.

“You’re right. I haven’t picked a ring. We’ll pick one together ....when we want to get married.” 

“But...thats ...not anytime soon right?” I said nervously. Jungkook gave me a smile, moving back to stirring the saucepan with the meat and adding some sauce. 

“It doesn’t have to be ever. I’m happy this way. If one day you wake up and feel like you’re missing a ring on your finger, we’ll go do the whole wedding shebang. If not, that's fine too. We can spend the rest of our lives being the horny couple everyone avoids at family gatherings. ” he shrugged. 

I laughed but felt my heart expand a few sizes inside me. 

“Thank you.” I whispered and he leaned over the counter to gently grip my chin, planting a soft kiss on my lips. 

“No one else gets to say what we are. No one else gets to say what we can or can’t do. Okay?” He rubbed his nose against mine and I nodded.

I bit my lips, thinking about something that had always bothered me. 

“Your parents-” He cut me off before I could finish.

“I won’t lie. They’ll probably want me to...reconsider.” He sighed. “ But I don’t think they’ll give  you  a hard time about it.. They’re polite and good people. Just have a different idea of what I need in a wife.”

I played with the hem of his shirt. 

“Sana , she’s-” i couldn’t even say it, just looking up at him. He was already staring at me. 

He nodded, smiling a little.

“Someone my parents have been trying to set me up with, yeah.” He admitted. 

“You didn’t turn her down ...” I said softly, feeling hurt . 

He stared at me, turning the heat down on the pan before coming around to stand in front of me. 

“Hey, come on, don’t look like that, baby...”

“And she’s going to be there at your fight today and-”

“I just didn’t want to pick a fight with my parents before today’s match. Because believe it or not, I was going to ask you out today , after I won.”

I blinked at him, surprised.

“Really?”

“Really. I... you’ve been staying over and stuff, and you actually looked jealous of Sana so I thought...you know maybe you’ve changed your mind about us.... So I wanted to ask you out. And I wanted my parents to  be in a good mood when I told them I’m with you. So I indulged them a little , that’s all.” 

I nodded. Talking about his parents made me think of my own mother and God, I could feel a headache coming on. But I had to tell him the truth. 

“My mom...she’s...she’s a little...”

He squeezed my knees, leaning closer and bumping my head with his.

“I’m not the kind of guy women usually want to bring home to their parents, but i will wear a nice button down,  brush my teeth  and get a whole bunch of flowers for her when you ask me to.” He whispered. 

“She’ll only want you for your money.” I blurted out.

He straightened, looking confused.

Embarrassment flooded me but I had to be honest with him.

“My mother, she... she got used to a really luxurious lifestyle with my dad and when he died, she just...she couldn’t accept that she’s going to have to give up a lot of stuff... So she’ll try to get you to buy her things. I’ll try to keep her away as much as I can but-”

“I really wouldn’t mind buying her stuff-”

I shook my head fiercely.

“No..No..that’s... I can’t ask you to that.”

Areum look at me-” He demanded and I stared at him. 

“You do know that I’m like, filthy rich, right?” He said firmly.

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes but-”

“Buying your mom a few trinkets every month wouldn’t even put a dent in the amount of money I make in a fucking  hour.” He raised both his eyebrows.

I frowned.

“Okay, stop bragging.” 

He laughed. 

“ I’m serious. You don’t have to worry about it okay? Besides you can always repay me for it. “ 

I gaped at him.

“I cannot repay-”

“In kisses.” He finished. 

I stared at him, not fooled at all.

“And office sex. I really really want to spend a whole entire day at work with you wrapped around my cock...not even fucking,,,just you in my lap, me inside you.... Its like my biggest fantasy.” His eyes looked a little glazed. 

I felt heat rush all the way up to my ears, my face flaming. 

“You’re insatiable” I muttered, whacking his shoulder. 

His eyes shifted, gaze darkening and heavy with something that was more than just lust. More than just attraction,. It was heavy and over powering, strong and impossible to ignore. It was so heavy and dark and sensuous and yet somehow so achingly soft and affectionate. 

“It’s never enough, “ He leaned in close, curving fingers on my waist and kissing my neck. “ After two years, I tell myself I should have had enough of you but...” He brushed his lips against mine, “   It’s not. I want to touch you more. I always come away from our time together wishing I could touch you some more. Want to touch you more, take in that scent of yours, watch your eyes flash when I make you cum. ” 

He grabbed my knees, spreading my legs and I became acutely aware of being completely naked underneath his shirt. 

“We’re not having sex on the kitchen counter.” I protested, laughing  and he hummed, kissing my jaw gently.

“Come on, its a rite of passage. Its not true love if you don’t have sex on the kitchen counter while your dinner burns on the stove...” 

Oh, well. 

Maybe he was right. 

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

“Should i just forfeit the match tonight?” Jungkook whispered, voice muffled against my shoulder blades as he pressed soft little kisses to my skin , deliciously slow and gentle. 

I frowned, face down on the soft duvet on his bed, fingers curled into the fabric, trying to chase sleep. 

The slightly golden light spilling into the room told me it was morning, but still pretty early. We could definitely afford to sleep in a few more hours at least. It had been almost four in the morning when we had finally fallen asleep. Jungkook had wanted to leave the kitchen as it was but I couldn’t fathom leaving some poor maid the task of cleaning cum off the mahogany surface. 

“Why would you say that?” i said, surprised. 

Jungkook sighed.

“I don’t know. “ He pulled away from me and rolled to the side. I stared at him as he gazed back at me. 

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, genuinely concerned.

He gave me a soft smile.

“It’s just a thought. I have it every morning of a major match.” He ran a palm over his face, mussing up his hair bore reaching out to press a kiss on my forehead. 

“Is it nervousness?” I asked, feeling anxious. There was something oddly frightening about seeing this side of Jungkook. I’d only ever seen the cool, confident asshole. The one that had no qualms about taking what he wanted, when he wanted. 

And I felt .... like it was a privilege he was granting me, letting me see the vulnerable side to his well earned cockiness. 

He shook his head. 

“It’s not. I’m not worried about losing, wouldn’t even mind losing once in a while.”

“But you don’t... you’re literally incapable of losing, golden maknae...” I teased and he rolled his eyes. 

“It’s actually about you.” He reached out and cupped my cheek gently. 

I blinked, pressing my own fingers over his. .

“What?”

“I’m not sure you’ll....like  that  side of me.” He said hesitantly. 

“Jungkook...”

“A large part of why I never let you see me fight is because, I’m not a nice person in the ring. I don’t show a lot of mercy ... I sometimes use more force than necessary and well, there’s nothing beautiful about beating the shit out of someone is there?”

I swallowed.

“You think I’ll see you differently, if I watch you fight.”

He nodded. 

“Won’t you? It’s not a very dignified sport.” 

I hesitated, not sure what to say to that. 

“I’ve not... I don’t think I’ve ever thought it was weird, in a bad way, that you boxed. I just thought it was something you were good at. It’s not... I don’t think I feel that deeply about it.” 

He nodded.

“I believe you . But it still worries me. I’m just scared I guess...”

“Scared..?”

“Scared that seeing me in the ring will make you change your mind about us.” 

I jolted, stunned. 

Moving quickly to his side , I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. 

I pulled back to glare at him.

“I’m not going to leave you over a sport you play.” I said drily .

He chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose.

“If you say so.”

“I’m serious. I’m not a delicate flower, Jungkook. I’m not going to enjoy watching you get hurt, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just...give up on everything that you are.... because of this.” 

“You’re right.... I’m sorry if i worried you.” He said softly , and it was so disarming, how much adoration was writ large on his features.

��I was used to the lust and the passion and the roughness but this Jungkook, the tender, gentle lover....he was sending me into a downward spiral. 

“This is weird.” I laughed a little.

He grinned.

“What?” He scooted closer, reaching out to gently hold my hand.

“You...being so...” I stopped when he stroked the delicate skin on the back of my hand with feather light touches. 

“So...what?” His eyebrows quirked up, teasing and I felt myself blushing so furiously . 

“Stop it...” I whispered, mortified with how hot my face was getting. That tender, adoring look on his face was making it impossible for me to breathe.

Jungkook gave me a wicked smile and carefully slotted his fingers between mine, holding my hand gently before raising it up to kiss my knuckles.

“What’s making you turn so red, angel?” He pressed soft affectionate kisses, on each knuckle and then the inside of my wrist and I smiled so wide my cheeks began to hurt a bit. 

“Jungkook...” I could barely get the words out and it was so incredibly embarrassing that something as innocently affectionate as him holding my hand was filling me with an incontrollable urge to just burst into tears. 

“ I love you...” He whispered , blowing gently on my fingers. 

“Oh, God...” I could feel my soul threatening to leave my body. 

“Love every little bit of you...” He rolled over me, straddling my waist , arms caging me in as he pressed one soft kiss to my temple. 

“I’m going to cry.” I said firmly.

“Love that you’re so brave, so unafraid. “ He kissed the edge of my brows., “ love that you stand up for yourself, love that you don’t take shit from anyone, even me and I love that you’re here. In my arms. Like this, although I don’t deserve you at all, my beautiful goddess....” he whispered. 

The nickname made me astral project for one hot minute. 

Determined to get some control back, I grabbed the drawstrings of his sweatpants, untying the loose knot before slipping my fingers into the waistband. 

“Hmm... you’re right. You don’t deserve. But because I’m a generous generous goddess, how about I let you worship me, the way  I  deserve ....” I whispered, tugging his pants down, pushing the fabric past  his muscled thighs. He laughed.

“And how would that be?”

“Let me use that hot, thick dick of yours... Wanna ride it till my thighs shake, make you cum so hard you’ll see heaven...” I whispered and he rolled his eyes. 

“This is supposed to be a soft moment .... and all you’re interested in is my cock , you dirty little-” He choked when I shimmied down, quickly. Scooting down the bed till i was face to face with his dick, his thighs straddling my chest and his cock right up against my mouth. 

I licked the tip, gently. 

“I love you too..” I whispered, wrapping my lips around the soft head , letting my lips suck on the sensitive skin, tongue licking the soft underside as he grabbed on to the headboard to steady himself. 

“Areum-” 

“Love how much you care for me,” I ran the tip of my tongue all over the head , getting it nice and sloppy, “  how upset you get when I’m hurting....” I opened my mouth wide, lifting up just a bit to suck more of him into my mouth. 

“Oh God-”

“Love how kind, and talented and nice you are. Love how good you are at making me feel good. No one makes me feel as good as you do, Jungkook...” 

He was staring down at me, eyes blown with a mixture of arousal and affection, fingers carding through my hair gently.

I gave his hip a small pat.  

“Fuck my mouth... i can’t suck you off like this.” I squeezed his ass , enjoying how hard it felt beneath my hand. I gripped his thighs, stroking them up and down, leanly muscled and corded with strength. 

And then, completely losing my senses, 

“Namjoon’s thighs are a little bigger than yours right? ”  I said thoughtfully, completely serious and not even realizing what i was saying and  who  I was saying it to until his grip on my hair tightened hard enough  . 

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he was off me in a second. 

The look of sheer and absolute horror on his face made me laugh so hard i nearly choked. 

Growling, he grabbed me by the shoulders, flipping me over so fast, i bounced off the mattress. I laughed into the fabric of the pillow . 

“Jungkook, i was just jok--” I got cut off by a smack to the back of my thigh, hard and stinging. 

“Hyung’s thighs? Really, Areum, you wanna got there?” He smacked me again, and I whined. 

“Is this any way to treat a goddess?” I choked out, struggling to crawl away but he held me down easily. 

“Shouldn’t ever go soft on you..., called you a goddess one time and suddenly you wanna be a little brat about it......” He grunted, fingers closing around my upper arms and pulling my hands back so hard that my shoulder actually popped. 

He pulled me up till I was on my knees, his chest pressed to my back as he gripped my wrists hard. 

“Ow!! I’m sorry!” I yelped, but he wasn’t listening,  and I grinned when i felt the familiar cold of metal on my wrists. 

“You’re so easily riled...” I added a slight lilt to my words, knowing how much it annoyed him. 

He didn’t disappoint, grabbing my chin hard and yanking my head back so I could stare at him. 

“Only when you forget your place, angel.” He whispered . 

“My place?” I blinked innocently. “ And where is that?”

He gave me a quick bruising kiss.

“In my heart most of the time. But right now, on your knees up against the head board so I can fuck your brains out.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I love you.” Jungkook said cheerfully, leaning against the wall and grinning like the Chesire cat. I straightened from where I was kneeling, tying my sneakers. 

I stared at him, completely amused.

“Jungkook you don’t have to say that so often...” I shook my head.

He frowned. 

“I like being able to say those words to you. I spent entirely too many months thinking them and not being allowed to say them.”

I felt my heart melt a little. 

“I love you too. “ I whispered.

“I wouldn’t mind you being there, you know. I know I said all that stuff, but if you really want to see me fight from up front....” 

I shook my head. 

“Its alright. I won’t be anywhere near the front and I’ll make sure to look away when you’re punching your opponent. “ I teased. 

He sighed.

“Just remember that’s not who I am, okay? I... I love you.” He said again.

“Now the word’s just beginning to lose all meaning.” I laughed. 

He looked hurt at that.

I rushed to sooth him.

“I’m just joking, I’m joking... Of course it has meaning and i love that you’ve suddenly turned into a love bot, but let’s just... tone it down. Just a little bit.” I pinched my fingers together,.

He tugged his lower lips between his teeth.

“You’ll be okay to get to the venue by yourself right? I’m going to take a shower and a nap before I head there.”

“I’ll be fine.” I waved him off. “ We’ll meet up after you win and celebrate properly.” I winked, giving him one last kiss before waving bye. 

As the door closed behind him, I couldn’t help but grin ear to ear.

Ain’t love grand? 

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

I was wrong. 

I couldn’t do this.

“He is so hot. Oh my God, you’re so lucky, Sana...look at his fucking abs.” 

I willed myself not to take a swing at the girl next to me. I wanted to clench my fist, raise my arm and just let loose till she was knocked out on the floor. The women from the office had seen me hovering awkwardly at the back and swooped on me like a pair of vultures. 

I’d been swept to the very front with them, my protests falling on deaf ears and now, suddenly I had front row seats to watching the love of my life get hurt. 

There was nothing even remotely enjoyable about watching Jungkook get hit. And although it was clear that he was winning , clear that he was so much better than his opponent, there was no denying that the other guy was good too.

And the two times he had managed to catch Jungkook off guard, landing a couple of punches, my entire heart had cracked into two. 

“He’s going to be my husband...can you believe?” San whispered next to me and I startled.,

Oh God. 

The girls looked at me eagerly.

“Oh...that’s yeah. Sounds amazing.” I smiled. 

“He could probably like fuck you against the wall, “ Jieun whispered, giggling .

Sana blushed so red I wanted to scream.

“So hot... Do you think he’s... you know...big?” She nudged me lightly, laughing. 

Oh wow. I clenched my fists, feeling rage fill my veins so fast that I saw red. 

But I was saved by the sound of a commotion up front and my head whipped around, panic setting in. 

I stared at the ring. Jungkook stood back while his opponent was flat on the floor, unmoving. 

Great, these horny bitches had made me miss him taking the winning shot. 

i watched the referee kneel beside the prone man, counting slowly and I saw Jungkook turn to stare right at me.

“He’s looking at you, Sana... He’s looking at you, look!!” Jieun grinned. 

I bit my lips, smiling at him. 

“I think you should go to him.” The girls told Sana and I jumped.

What the fuck??

Unable to bear it, I pushed past them, ignoring their surprised squawks as I pushed past the crowd to the aisle. 

“And , ladies and gentleman, we have ourselves a winner. Give it up for our very own, Jeon Jung Kook!!” 

The crowd went wild, the referee raising his hand up in victory.

I ran all the way up to the ring, narrowly missing the guard near the front and crawling up into the ring. 

Jungkook stared at me, wide eyes as I jumped on him with a running leap. 

He caught me around the waist easily, laughing. He gripped my butt, hoisting me up and I wrapped my thighs tight around his waist. 

“Oh, wow”. He whispered, but I was too busy searching the crowd for the three girls who had triggered me into this madness. 

Sana and her two friends stood slack jawed, eyes wide as saucers as they stared at me. 

I snatched the mic out of Jungkook’s hand. Glared right at them. 

“To answer your question...yes.. he’s big. The biggest I’ve ever had and what’s more he knows how to use it too. Also, stay the fuck away from my boyfriend and stop talking about him like he’s a piece of meat, you whores. You do know I work in the HR department right? I will file sexual harassment suits on the three of you so fast you’ll-” 

Jungkook grabbed the mic out of my hands before I could finish, looking absolutely horrified. 

“You crazy little bint!” He laughed aloud and I pouted.

“They’re taking about your dick. I don’t like that.” I protested. 

“Baby, you know my dick is yours.” 

“Damn right it is.” I said firmly. 

He grinned a bit. 

“And so is my heart.” 

I let him kiss me, the background noise and the sound of of cheering fading away as I let my eyes flutter shut, reveling in just him. 

Of course, we had things to do. Meet our parents. Make our relationship public.... a whole lot of messy grown up stuff that would annoy the fuck out of both of us. 

But for now, kissing him in front of everyone, ignoring Namjoon’s screams of, ‘ Jungkook there are reporters here!!! ’ and my sister’s shouts of, ‘ stop you heathens’.....

Well, this felt just right. 

The End .

Authors Note : Well, this was a whole entire journey wasn’t it!!!!! I will deeply miss Jungkook and Areum, I loved them with my whole entire heart. I hope you guys loved them too... Let me know if you did... As always, feedback is much, much appreciated !!!! Thank you for sticking by.  Love and kisses. 

taglist : 

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@jincentvangogh

@unicornbabylover

@ggukkieland

@yoongisdragon

@aamxxrii

@brooky95

@apollukee

@bonyg 

@craztextae

[eclipsebythedawn]

Smothered Flames & Shadows (Part 1)

Hi guys! So this is my first fanfiction ever, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even good but I thought I wanted to share some Gwynriel with you all :) I have a sort of story planned out and this will likely have more parts. I’m pretty sure I will continue this story since I have more stuff planned out (hence the part 1) but right now it’s just some Gwynriel crumbs. Hope you guys will enjoy it and stay safe wherever you are. 

(How are we gonna wait like ten years for the Gwynriel book because I believe in you SJM you MUST MUST give us Gwynriel ??!) 

Ps. This is the updated version, I added a new chunk for Azriel’s reaction. (Updated on 26 April 2021)

Azriel's wings flapped as he patrolled the skies. The dense cloud cover as well as the fading sunlight disguised his presence and he needed minimal effort to remain hidden. His shadows could taste the looming chaos and flitted around him warningly.

Be careful, be careful.

He could hear through their thoughts and saw through their lingering words. All was quiet here, it seemed. He would much rather preferred to be stationed at the ethereally beautiful Dawn Court, their High Lord serene but with an inner strength that was unflappable, instead of... here.

The Autumn Court held no such delights. Yes, the scenery was more than picturesque -- its flora suspended in eternal autumn, the golden-brown leaves swirling leisurely through the air, their russet color so much like a certain male that was mated to a certain girl he could never have.

Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.

Unbidden, his brother's fury-driven words cut into his muddled thoughts. Azriel knew that he was old and cranky and Rhys didn't deserve his anger and resentment after what he went through for all of them, but he was... gods, he was so damn tired.

The first female outside of Mor who had caught his eyes -- of course she had to be denied from him. Cauldron knew that the Mother had never shone its light on him, not that he even deserved to be embraced by Her warmth.

His mind finally allowed him to remember the beautiful brunette always on the back of his mind. Her doe-like eyes, sweet smile and that alluring scent, so pure and innocent and arousing and --

Fuck.

Azriel adjusted himself, his pants stifling and uncomfortable. Shit. He was in deep shit. But he couldn't stop himself from fantasizing about how she would taste, how she would look when he made her come.

Rhys's words from the other day, during solstice so many months ago, hadn't helped. Azriel's desperate lust had only grown even more to the point that he was actively avoiding the second Archeron sister so she wouldn't scent his arousal.

For that matter, so his two brothers wouldn't catch him lusting after her especially after the warning he was given.

And she seemed to be avoiding him too.

Azriel made one more round in the skies, the night as chilly and familiar as his own shadows that seemed strangely subdued now. His thoughts continued to stray towards...

Elain.

Beautiful, clean, pure, worthy Elain. He was none of those things, he knew that. Had resigned himself to it after five centuries of futile pining for a female that never returned his desires. He did not blame Mor. Could not blame Mor. He was tainted and she deserved someone better than him.

But when he saw Elain... Their unlikely friendship had gradually turned into something more. It had only continued to develop after Elain was Made High Fae and he became even more attuned to her, constantly sharing the same space. And for the first time since Mor, he wanted. He wanted to have what his two brothers had. It was wrong and it was selfish, but he saw Rhys and Cassian and he wondered --

Maybe the Cauldron had made a mistake. Three sisters of blood and three brothers of choice. Two thirds fulfilled, and somewhere deep down inside, he had been uselessly, worthlessly holding onto hope.

He had not dared to whisper it out loud until Rhys caught him just before their kiss. And Rhys reaction had only served to remind him why he was wrong for her. Why Elain deserved someone else.

But for the first time in his life, he wanted to throw caution to the wind.

Deciding that all was well and not wanting to remain a second longer, Azriel gathered his shadows and prepared to winnow back to home. He frowned when his shadows flittered over him... disapprovingly?

Yes, that was disapproval. His lips tightened as they swirled around him angrily.

What the hell was wrong with them tonight?

Azriel yanked on his petulant shadows. They continued to ignore him, some even going as far as to ignore him.

He scowled. His shadows were stepping out of line more and more frequently as thought something was bothering him.

Or someone.

He shoved aside the image of tendrils dancing and singing around a certain redhead, her bright teal eyes laughing and --

Azriel forcibly winnowed and dragged his disobeying shadows after him, leaping across the miles between the Autumn Court and home within a single step, resigning himself to a lonely night -- as always.

~~~

The night was alive.

It was a comforting blanket draped over her, Gwyn mused silently.

But she felt dead.

It was going to be one of those nights, then. Those nights when she woke up screaming, drenched in sweat only to realize it was just another nightmare. That reality was like a noose tied around her neck, dragging her further down into the pits of Hell where she belonged.

She would never meet Catrin even in death. Because her lovely, beautiful sister who had shone like the brightest star was amongst the stars in the heavens. That single thought was the only thing pushing her forward on the worst of nights.

On nights where flinging herself out of a high balcony on the impossible chance that she would see Catrin again seemed possible. Gwyn had thought that that was before.

Before Nesta, before Emerie, before meeting her Valkyrie sisters whom she knew would and had walked with her through pain and darkness and led her back.

But even after so much training, nothing had changed. She was still the cowardly, timid, broken doll she thought she had left behind.

Gwyn sighed even as sadness and pain, always so much pain, swelled inside her. Logically she knew she wasn't thinking straight. If Nesta or Emerie were here, they would be chiding her for her thoughts, the former sharp but mindful, and the latter firm but gentle. A small smile came onto her faces at all the memories they shared.

The cutting of the ribbon. Winning the obstacle course that served as the Blood Rite Qualifier. And then winning the actual Blood Rite itself while Nesta -- unyielding, unflinching -- held the lines for Gwyn and Emerie to be crowned as Carynthians.

And now, Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony. Despite everything she was feeling, Gwyn was happy for her friend.

Her sister by choice.

She knew Nesta deserved Cassian as he did her, and she felt genuine happiness for the pair. It was obvious during the long months of initial, grueling training that there was a spark between the two. An attraction that could not be denied.

She longed to find that love though in truth Gwyn knew she might never be ready for it.

Her point was further proven yesterday when Nesta had invited them during a break in training to her mating ceremony, held in a week's time. Gwyn knew that preparations were already underway and she was as honored and grateful as Emerie to be invited, but still she had hesitated, especially at the list of invited and accepted guests.

It wasn't mortifyingly long since Nesta only wanted close friends and family and Cassian only wanted the High Lord, Rhysand and Azriel, but the guest was filled with important names that made Gwyn nervous just to hear them.

The High Lord and High Lady were enough to make her dizzy. And then there was the High Lord's Second and Third, both formidable females in their own right. Gwyn thought wryly though that Emerie had seemed flustered and even blushed a little when her ears caught on a certain someone's name in the list Nesta had shared.

She was happy for her friend too. Emerie deserved friendship -- and love, if that relationship could blossom. But she knew better than interfere when her own relationships were so precarious.

The Prince of Adriata was coming, along with Mother above, the High Lord of the Day Court, Helion. Nesta's younger sister Elain was on the list as well though Nesta's face had clouded a bit when she read her name out loud. And then there was her mate -- Lucien Vanserra.

The supposedly exiled son of the High Lord of Autumn, who had ties to numerous Courts and was a valuable ally.

It was silly and stupid but amidst this sea of important names, Gwyn had wondered on more than one occasion what she could even do there. She had immediately scolded herself mentally, that she would be attending the ceremony for Nesta and even Cassian, who had become a bit of an older brother figure to her, and she would have Emerie with her.

She knew Emerie would fight anyone who dared to even look at her the wrong way.

But the larger part of Gwyn was scared. So many people would be attending, especially the males. It wasn't as if Helion or Lucien would randomly pounce on her, and that her fear was irrational, but she couldn't stop thinking about them. Couldn't stop thinking about that day where so many males surrounded her, where that hateful Hybern commander had ordered her held down, had pummeled into her as silent tears fell down her face, had laughed in her face and --

Gwyn counted the stars in the sky in time to her quickened breathing. Deep breaths, she told herself. When she couldn't sleep on nights like these she would train until nearly the breaking of dawn. She should get up from her position on the ground.

Probably.

But lying on the cold floor of the training area atop the House of Wind was a refreshing change. After having been coped up in the library for two years, she had finally decided to join Nesta in her morning training sessions with Cassian.

It was quite possibly the best decision she had ever made.

But still... But still, the doubt lingered. It festered. It thrived on her pain and self-hatred, quietly growing on nights like these.

It thrived at the fact that Emerie had accepted the invitation immediately, but Gwyn, worthless, selfish Gwyn had not. Was she so pathetic that she couldn't even congratulate her friend on her special day?

She should really get up. Perhaps train a bit more, instead of lying here wallowing in her dark thoughts.

Then a tiny tendril of shadow-kissed power gently prodded her arm. She startled, turning around and half-getting up.

She already knew who would be standing before her with his usual contemplative silence.

Azriel.

He was before her and she froze for one second. A twinge of fear crept in at his closeness, at the nearness of another male, so suddenly and unpredicted --

Azriel took a step back, saying softly, "I'm sorry if I surprised you."

Gwyn blinked. The shadowsinger was nothing but the epitome of manners and he had likely scented her fear.

"It's fine." And that was true. Her fear had instantly washed away as abruptly as it had arrived upon realizing who was here.

Azriel would never hurt her, Gwyn was sure of that.

She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward silence that had descended.

"Are you here for something?" She winced slightly at her choice of words. This was his home. She had no right to even utter such a question when she was the outsider.

Before Azriel could reply, another shadow darted out and wrapped itself around her arm before rushing back to its master. Gwyn felt the corners of her lips twitched up as the shadowsinger blinked once, twice in... shock.

"Did you forget your favorite dagger again?" She teased and was rewarded with a faint blush on his cheeks. His lovely and if she dared say, adorable shadows had given her the courage she needed.

To her surprise, he played along. "Have you seen an eighteen-inch dagger anywhere?"

Gwyn burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement.

"May I remind you that it's a dagger you have misplaced -- not a sword?"

"Forgive me if my memory fails sometimes." Was she seeing things or was there a twinkle in his eyes?

"Well, you do seem to forget things rather easily." Oh, she was certain! Amusement ran deep inside his hazel eyes and Gwyn felt breathless for a second, mesmerized by the beautiful male.

Staring into his eyes... She smiled at him, a genuine crinkling of her eyes. He had lifted her mood within seconds of his arrival.

Azriel seemed to freeze for a second, his usual stillness somehow magnifying. Intensifying. His shadows writhed around and she had the odd feeling that he was struggling to control them.

She blinked, and the moment passed.

"Were you training?" Azriel motioned towards her sweaty body. She nodded mutely, still caught up in what had occurred. Was it just her imagination? Looking at the stoic Illyrian standing before her, Gwyn decided she was just too tired, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

"...My help?"

Gwyn snapped out of her thoughts, head jerking up. "What?"

Azriel cocked an eyebrow at her obvious inattentiveness and she felt herself blushing. She chided herself mentally.

"Do you require my help?" He repeated the question, that faint amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"Wait. Are you asking to train me?" Another eyebrow raise.

"Were you expecting me to teach you the benefits of lying on the cold floor in the middle of the night?" He replied dryly.

Gwyn scowled and immediately stood up.

"Uh-huh. I was expecting you to fling your arms about and start serenading me."

"Is that a demand?" Azriel chuckled quietly. Gwyn thought that might be the most heavenly sound she had ever heard.

"Is that a challenge?" Gwyn shot back, not missing a beat.

The corners of his lips twitched up. Gwyn wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, her competitive streak setting in. She was also excited for this match because truth be told, she had been training everyday in anticipation of wiping the floor with the shadowsinger. It was her secret fantasy.

Not that it would happen anytime still but... Still.

"You can help me with my training. But on one condition."

Azriel contemplated her more seriously before he nodded his head.

"We fight now. Hand-to-hand."

~~~

The night was alive.

And Gwyneth Berdara was the full moon that accompanied it, shining brightly even amidst the darkness. She was so lovely, yet he sensed something pure and burning thriving inside her. His shadows yearned to flit around her, touch her, dance and sing for her. He had to keep them on a tight leash, and they were unhappy.

Little tendrils of darkness swirled around him petulantly. They wanted to go to Gwyn. Would have gone to her without his intervention. One stray thread snuck out and nearly coiled around Gwyn's wrist before he snatched it back in time. He could have sworn his own shadows growled at him. But he had bigger things to focus on.

Like the fact that Gwyn had just challenged Azriel to a duel.

Once again, his shadows had failed to mention that she was here. There was no quick escape that didn't end in awkwardness so he had stayed -- and so far he was... contented. Being around her seemed to have that effect on himself.

She was humming to herself as she stretched, preparing her body before their fight. His shadows buzzed around excitedly, seeming to forget about their earlier disagreement. He supposed there was no question who they were rooting for.

"Ready?" He asked Gwyn. She nodded, then held up a hand.

"Wait." She retied her ponytail, not letting even a single strand of her coppery chestnut obstructing her vision. He admired her competitiveness, her courage and strength in always fighting for the best.

Meeting her by chance here again reminded him of solstice, and his mind wandered to Elain before he slammed down his thoughts.

Focus. He had watched and trained Gwyn enough to know that she was a threat: an emerging dark horse that proved unpredictable and cunning. He also knew she had silently studied his fighting style enough to know more than just a few of his preferred tricks.

They circled each other, neither one of them making the first move.

He had drilled into her what signs to look out for, what feints and what blockings would be an unexpected yet effective counterattack that he was more than a little wary.

Still, he decided to make the first move, which was so out of his usual style that he hoped she would be unprepared. He had the feeling that she already knew he was going to attack first though as she sidestepped him and threw a punch.

Like he was expecting. He grabbed it and pulled her towards him to jilt her balance, but she was already expecting that and swept out her leg, forcing him to move unless he wanted to end up on the ground. The next move he had perfected to mastery.

He pretended to feint left when he was actually aiming for the left. A cheap shot, but he had also taught her that no real fights were clean and honest. She twisted her body but they both knew she wouldn't dodged in time.

At the last moment, his shadows decided to move and --

Capture his fucking hand. They wrapped themselves around him and his eyes widened as he was stopped mid-throw by his own shadows. The scenario would have been laughable if he wasn't in so much disbelief. They had never outright hindered him in any battles before.

He cursed, barely dodging the next kick Gwyn sent his way. They broke apart again and Gwyn asked, "Something wrong?" She glanced towards his wayward shadows and he had a strong feeling she knew.  

He shook his head, glaring at his swirling shadows. They just blinked up at him innocently.

Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her. Lovely mistress lovely mistress lovely mistress.

He gritted his teeth. Their fancy for Gwyn had reached the point of obsession but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she squinted and then broke into a grin.

"Aha. I thought I saw your little friends earlier." At her words, his shadows flew towards her joyfully, happy to be recognized. Azriel rubbed his neck as his shadows neared Gwyn, knowing that she had to secretly hate them for being so ugly and tainted and unworthy --

Gwyn bent down. What she did next would stay in his memories forever. Holding out an arm, she let his shadows coiled around the entire length, wisps of midnight trailing her as she walked towards Azriel.

His shadows were happier than he had ever known them to be. He could feel their joy with every step she took, sense the way they were telling him to look look look look.

Then Gwyn smiled at him, her teal eyes so clear and large.

"Your shadows are beautiful."

~~~

"Your shadows are beautiful."

Azriel stood still. His entire body was frozen, and even his heart seemed to cease its beating.

Gwyn took a step back at whatever expression was on his face. What she said... Did she understand that what she said -- no one had ever deigned to voice before?

Did she look at his hideous soul and scarred hands?

Did she see how truly stained he was?

He wanted to believe she did. He had never wanted something more than Gwyn seeing him, truly seeing him be true. But if it were true...

How could his shadows be beautiful?

"I'm -- I'm sorry for stepping out of line." She stuttered out, her eyes wide.

Azriel glanced up sharply, snapped out of his trance. She looked horrified and was stammering out another apology, her pitch high and wobbly.

Shit.

Before he could process what he was saying, words tumbled out of his mouth, aided by the push of an impatient shadow desperate to right all things wrong.

"It is I who should be apologizing." His voice was a soft whisper in the night breeze. Gwyn paused halfway through her long speech and she stood there gaping at him.

"I am sorry, Gwyn." Azriel truly was. He could feel the shame gnawing at him. Yet another mistake. Yet another disappointment. He was a lowly half-breed bastard. His "little friends" curled around his tightening fists anxiously. He could not quite meet her eyes as chagrin dragged him down and whispered,"I should not have reacted the way I did."

He did not know what to expect. The infamous spymaster that was Azriel could never anticipate any of Gwyn's actions. She was an enigma, a mystery that constantly evaded him, the light at the end of the tunnel that shied away from him at every twist and turn.

He saw Gwyn take a deep breath from his peripheral vision and steeled himself. He gathered the remnants of his scattered mask, ready to return to just the High Lord's spymaster.

And then Gwyn spoke.

"I... I do not know your story. I do not know the dark tales that define your past. But I know you. And I know that whatever it is... It does not define you. It does not define the male I see standing before me. It cannot define the male who saved my very life, who --" Here her voice caught and she had to stop for a moment.

Azriel's heart clenched painfully. He did not know why but... He wanted to hug her and show her that her past had never defined her. Not for him, not for Nesta or Emerie and he wanted her to know that it shouldn't for herself.

"Who placed that cloak upon me with such gentle hands." She continued softly, gazing down at his scarred palms. And for the first time in a sea of forever, Azriel did not feel the urge to hide his shadow-kissed hands. Those same shadows began to swirl towards Gwyn and she did not flinch.

She only continued staring at him with those eyes that could see through everything. Did he want them to see through him? Yes.

She sees. And she is not afraid. Azriel's shadows basked them in a cocoon of living darkness.

"I refuse to let your past define you. I do not accept that. So fight. Your story... even if it never comes to me, there is nothing it can tell me that I don't already know. You are brave, thoughtful and so, so kind. You and Cassian trusted me to survive and conquer the Rite as you two had trusted Nesta and Emerie. If not then both of you would have stormed in immediately, and no law could have overruled you. So please... Please believe in me like you did. Just this once, if nothing else." Gwyn finished a little breathlessly and he knew she had rushed through the last part because she was nervous.

But somehow the bit that stuck out to him was her thinking he used to believe in her. He did, but used to? He still did. And he wanted her to know that, more than anything. He wanted Gwyn to know that he had never stop believing in her.

And seeing Gwyn's crestfallen face as each second passed and he still remained silently, he knew she was thinking the worst.

He wanted her smile back. His shadows wanted that too.

But more than anything, they both wanted her to sing again. And looking at her dispirited expression, at that moment even his shadows were unsure whether she would find her voice again.

She had spilled her thoughts to him, and he was standing there like an idiot.

Your words, Azriel. Use your words.

His shadows were begging him to say something. Anything, please please please.

As she turned to leave, he finally found his voice. The voice she unknowingly helped him find.

"Gwyn, I'm sorry -- please wait." She paused, hesitating as her eyes met his. Azriel did not know what to say. He was incapable of saying anything but "sorry", that word so pathetic and useless. Sorry was not enough when Rhys was captured by Amarantha. Sorry was not enough when Feyre was forced to sacrifice herself for their -- for his sake. Sorry was not enough when Elain was taken away by the Cauldron in the middle of the night.

Sorry had never been enough and never would be. Azriel was a stupid, foolish idiot.

"Azriel." Gwyn spoke his name softly. He tore himself away from his useless thoughts and looked at her.

She... did not look upset. She did not look angry, nor sad, nor frustrated. Instead, understanding lay in those warm teal eyes.

"I'm not pushing you to share about yourself. You are not obliged to just because I rambled on about my thoughts." Gwyn's eyes were indeed filled with apology and remorse though she had a small smile.

"You will always be my friend. And I will wait for you, even if the day you want to share about yourself never comes. Because I know you will do the same for me."

Somehow, in that moment when even time seemed to have held its breath, when even the Mother seemed to be watching, Azriel felt something in him shifted. In the distant, he could have sworn a phoenix's song filled his veins, a song of smothered flames and shadows.

"Besides, I think the silent, brooding type fits you better than Cassian's I-wrecked-one-tiny-unimportant-useless-building hotheadedness." Gwyn teased.

The distant calling seemed to grow louder, and Azriel could have sworn --

He could have sworn that a faraway glow beckoned him. And his shadows were more restless than ever, nearly tearing away from their master in their excitement.

So when Gwyn grinned at him, he smiled back.

The stars twinkling overhead seemed to beam back too. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt contented. It was a feeling he had not experienced since... Since solstice. And back then he was with Gwyn, too, he realized abruptly. It was this female before him who had brought him not once, but twice such longed-for peace and quiet.

Gwyn was wrong. It was not his shadows who were beautiful.

It was her.

It was the Valkyrie who had walked beside Death -- and never cowered.

Never feared, never faltered.

Gwyneth Berdara was a secret, lovely beauty.

Sorry for any grammatical errors (or just errors in general) since I’m writing on my own right now. Thanks for reading and stay tune for part 2 <3

Updated comment: Hi guys, so I added a new bit about Azriel’s reaction. I was planning out the whole story so it’s taking a while and I’m sorry about the wait. I’m nearly done with planning things out chapter-by-chapter so part 2 is on its way. Thank you for staying with me 

xoxo

Dawn ~

[hekateanwitchcraft]

Crowned With Snakes and Branches of Oak: Hekate Brimo

This is a post specifically on Hekate Brimo, for Brimo as a general epithet and goddess, please read @nehetisingsforhekate’s post on Brimo.

The Name:

Brimo (Βριμὼ) is an epithet Hekate is sometimes referred to in Her chthonic manifestations, and this name means ‘angry’ or ’terrifying’. Hekate is also called by different names of a similar nature. She is called “δασπλῆτις” (Dasplêtis), meaning frightful or horrid, in Theocrates’ Pharmakeutria. She is also named “θεά δεινός” or “δεινὴ θεὸς” (Thea Deinos/Deini Theos), meaning dread goddess, or frightening goddess. This phrase is used in the Argonautica, referring to Hekate named as Brimo.

Historical Usage:

Brimo is most notably used to refer to Hekate in the Argonautica. She is called Brimo three times, specifically in the rituals of magic that are performed. This shows a trend of calling on Underworld deities specifically by their epithets when worshipping their chthonic manifestations, as well as the trend of magic’s association with chthonic powers. These passages are reproduced below:

“Medea, clothed in black, in the gloom of night, had drawn off this juice in a Caspian shell after bathing in seven perennial steams and calling seven times on Brimo, nurse of youth, Brimo, night-wanderer of the underworld, Queen of the dead. The dark earth shook and rumbled underneath the Titan root when it was cut, and Prometheus himself groaned in the anguish of his soul.” (132)

“Then he dug a pit a cubit deep, piled up the billets, and laid he sheep on top of them after cutting its throat. He kindled the wood from underneath and poured mingled libations onto the sacrifice, calling on Hecate Brimo to help him in the coming test. This done, he withdrew; and the dread goddess, hearing his words from the abyss, came up to accept the offering of Aeson’s son. She was garlanded by fearsome snakes that could themselves round twigs of oak; the twinkle of a thousand torches lit the scene; and hounds of the underworld barked shrilly all around her. The whole meadow trembled under her feet, and the nymphs of the marsh and river...cried out in fear.” (141)

These passages indicate that Brimo was a particularly frightening manifestation of Hekate. One which shook the earth as She emerged, and was attended by fearsome creatures. She even frightened the nymphs who resided in the place where She manifested. 

Brimo is also used as the name for Hekate in Lycrophon’s Alexandra. The passage has been reproduced below:

“O mother, O unhappy mother! thy fame, too, shall not be unknown, but the maiden daughter of Perseus, Triform Brimo, shall make thee her attendant, terrifying with thy baying in the night all mortals who worship not with torches the images of the Zerynthian queen of Strymon, appeasing the goddess of Pherae with sacrifice. And the island spur of Pachynus shall hold thine awful cenotaph, piled by the hands of thy master, prompted by dreams when thou hast gotten the rites of death in front of the streams of Helorus. He shall pour on the shore offerings for thee, unhappy one, fearing the anger of the three-necked goddess, for that he shall hurl the first stone at thy stoning and begin the dark sacrifice to Hades.” (1174-1188)

Here Hekate is called Triform, or three-formed, Brimo. This description of Hekate is also far from one of a peaceful and friendly goddess. Here She is described as angry, and being attended by frightening baying hounds. Thus, Brimo is used to indicate Hekate’s more horrifying manifestations in its historical usage.

Hekate Brimo in My Practice:

In my practice, Brimo is ‘the lowest manifestation of Hekate.” To me, this indicates that Hekate Brimo is the most fearsome, Underwordly version of Hekate. She is a terrifying goddess, crowned with venomous snakes and oak branches. She carries daggers and torches, and sometimes has snakes instead of legs. Her skin is grey and Her eyes are like flames. In Her wake, the ground shakes, and out of Her steps grow the most noxious flowers and roots.

Brimo is the name I give to any of the more dreadful manifestations of Hekate. She is called on for petitions for justice and revenge, and is the goddess invoked in harmful magic. Hekate Brimo is the version of Hekate I associate with the Restless Dead, and who I view as roaming the roadsides on the night of the dark moon. This Hekate is also what I equate with Her role as the Queen of Witches, but not necessarily as the goddess of magic more generally. Her association with magic lies within curses, spells for justice and punishment, spells involving the dead, and rituals which invoke the inhuman daimons of the Underworld, over which She has dominion.

Hekate Brimo is also closely associated with the Erinyes, or Furies, in my veneration of Her. These Underworld goddesses of punishment and justice are frequently associated with Hekate in the PGM, as well as other literature. In Statius’ Thebaid, they are invoked and propitiated together (along with Hermes). These goddesses also mirror Hekate Brimo’s appearance, with snakes in their hair and carrying flaming torches of yew. 

Hekate Brimo is honored with chthonic offerings: libations of milk, honey, and wine. She was also historically offered black sheep. These are burned in a pit, and once these offerings and rituals are completed, one must turn away and not look back. Hekate Brimo is also attended with the hounds of the Underworld, and dogs on earth are in tune with Her presence. Whenever I have done a ritual invoking Hekate as Brimo, I have heard dogs barking before, during, and after. She may also send snakes to you. Plants I associate with this goddess are oak, yew, and various poisons, mainly aconite and mandrake.

Brimo is the face of Hekate which most often captivates audiences, and is the one that should be feared and is the representation of Hekate who is given offerings in hopes of averting Her. This is not an epithet of Hekate to be called on lightly, and these invocations must be done with the utmost care and reverence. She is one of the most frightening goddesses in the Ancient Greek pantheon, and is the stuff of nightmares.

Sources:

https://www.theoi.com/Text/ApolloniusRhodius3.html

https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0227%3Abook%3D3%3Acard%3D1190

https://www.theoi.com/Text/LycophronAlexandra.html

http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A2008.01.0450%3Asection%3D22

https://www.theoi.com/Text/StatiusThebaid4.html

Art: “Hecate” by Johfra Bosschart

[ragingbookdragon]

You Can Take Off All My Clothes And Never See Me Naked Final Part

A Haytham Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 2,100 (Technically 21K if you count all of it on AO3) Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: Well friends, we have reached the caboose of this train. I hope you’ve enjoyed this story despite how dark it was. This was the first time writing this character. As usual, this’ll probably get a epilogue, so don’t get your undies in a twist about the ending lol. Enjoy! -Thorne

***Set One Year After Part Eight***

           The execution occurred at dawn. There were no priests to bless last rites nor redcoats to see that it was an orderly punishment. It was merely her, the Grandmaster, and the Assassin-Hunter. It was a personal execution; one she would see the end of. One year of nonstop searching and rescuing. They’d freed some thirty girls and women across four countries. She was present for each and every one. She owed them that much.

           She watched with a frigid gaze as they’d secured him to the giant oak stake, then poured the oil all around, making sure to douse his body with it as well. They returned to her side and the Grandmaster lit the torch, handing it to her. With slow steps she walked to the edge of the pyre and gazed at up him. He stared back with a dead gaze—an entire year in a cold, harsh cell had finally deprived him of himself. It was little compared to what they suffered.

           “Come to offer divine justice?” his voice was low and scratchy, like he’d not tasted water for days—not that she cared.

           Raising the torch, she replied darkly, “If there was such a thing as divine justice, you’d be long gone already.” She lit the oil around him and met his eyes. “I hope you burn in hell forever, Ausilio Viviani.”

           Taking a few steps back, she watched as he went up in flames, the fire dancing in her eyes, casting shadows across her face. His howls of anguish echoed across the hills, but it sounded like the sweetest music in her ears.

           She stayed until his skeleton fell to ash at the bottom of the pyre then turned on her heel and walked past them. “It’s done. I’m leaving.” Neither of them chased her, though the one felt his heart reach for her.

***Later That Evening***

           Haytham rubbed his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time, hoping that it would clear the strain so he could keep writing, but it did little to soothe it. Figuring it was time to call it quits, he lightly clicked the quill to the ink and set the pen in its holder. Closing the ink, he drew his eyes to the door, feeling someone in his presence. “Come in.” He’d said it just as they knocked, and he heard a huff.

           The door opened and Shay walked in, closing it behind him. “I hate it when you do that.” He collapsed into the chair in front of Haytham’s desk. “Makes me think you have some sixth sense.”

           “Maybe I do?” Haytham quipped, grinning when Shay grimaced; he sighed and reclined in his seat, crossing a leg over the other. “To what do I owe this visit, Shay?”

           The Assassin-Hunter frowned and slouched in the chair. “Haven’t seen (Y/N) in a while. Gettin’ worried about her.”

           Though Haytham felt the same, he didn’t voice it, instead offering, “I can’t imagine she’s too keen on being around anyone right now.”

           “I know that,” Shay countered. “But she’s not at the tavern and I’m not sure where else she’d go. Me and Gist have looked everywhere.” He met the Grandmaster’s eyes. “I figured you’d be with her.”

           “Me?” Haytham inquired, eyebrows raising. “Why me?”

           Shay rolled his eyes. “Really? This is how we’re gonna do this? You too?”

           “I don’t know what you—”

           “You’re in love with her, Haytham.” He grinned at the pure shock crossing the other’s face. “Seriously, I wish I had portraits of your faces. It’s pure contentment for me.” Shay groaned as he rose from the chair and stretched his arms above his head. He lowered his arms and looked at Haytham. “She loves you too, you know? But we both know she won’t say anything.”

           “She loves me?” was all the other could manage and Shay sighed.

           “You know that thing inside your skull helps with the thinking process, right? Using it is strategically beneficial.”

           Haytham glared as he rose from his seat, pulling on his jacket and cloak. “That’s the one time you’re allowed to insult me and get by free.” He placed the tricorn on his head. “Get out of my office, Shay.”

           Shay sent him a salute. “Aye, sir.”

***

           He ran all over the streets of New York after he left the tavern. Apparently, the last time Anita had seen her was that morning when she came to collect her things. People gave him odd looks and he didn’t blame them. Someone even commented on how he must’ve missed an anniversary. That one almost made him punch them. He sped down another alley and came out the other side, eyes darting up and down the street before cursing. She was no where to be found. Haytham wondered if she skipped town and took his heart with her. No. He thought. I let her go, I won’t let (Y/N) go.”

           He thought back on all the times that they’d spent together, every place, every moment. His gaze shifted in the direction of the manor where’d they’d attended the ball together. It was a long shot, but he didn’t have any better options, and he spun on his heel, sprinting for the gardens.

***

           She sat on the bench, watching the stars twinkle above her. The leather bag in her hands felt heavy, and as it should be, it held all she owned. Something ached in her heart, but she avoided thinking about it—avoided thinking about him.

           Figuring it was finally time to leave, she stood and hauled the bag over her shoulder. A scratching behind her made her panic and she turned, pulling the gun on whoever was coming from out the bushes. They came face to face and she lowered the gun. “Haytham?”

           He grinned at her. “I’m beginning to see what Shay feels on a regular basis.”

           (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at that and she holstered the gun. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

           “I’m here to stop you from making a terrible mistake.” He said, brushing off the leaves and twigs stuff in his clothes.

           “Excuse me?” she questioned, cocking an eyebrow. “I think it’s bold of you to assume I make mistakes.”

           “Is it though?” he countered, smirking as she glared.

           “Alright, you can stop being an ass.” (Y/N) scratched at the leather bag handle. “Seriously, what are you doing here Haytham. How’d you even know I was here?”

           He stood straight with that arrogant stance that made her patience run thin. Haytham walked past her and looked up at he sky. “I figured you’d come back to a place that has significance to you.”

           “Oh? And what significance is this place?”

           He turned, meeting her gaze. “It’s where we both started feeling for one another.”

           “Your arrogance is astounding.” (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “Really, you’re so arrogant you make Odysseus look humble.” She stuck her tongue out at him when he rolled his eyes, then looked off at one of the rose bushes. “Besides, how do you know I have feelings for you?”

           “Are you asking because you do?” Her silence made him chuckle. “Shay told me.”

           Indignation flared across her face and she hissed, “I knew it! I knew that stupid shit spilled!” She spun on her heel, intent to march to Fort Arsenal and kick Shay’s ass. “I’m gonna plant my foot up his backside.” As she passed Haytham, his arm shot out and he stopped her.

           “Wait.”

           (Y/N) did, albeit with a glare. “Do you wanna do this dance, Haytham?”

           He leaned close, getting nose to nose with her. “If it means you’ll be my dance partner forever, then yes.” Her eyes went wide, and he professed, “I won’t let you leave. Not now. Not when so much has happened between us.”

           “My departure isn’t your decision to make.” She retorted, and Haytham could feel her bicep flexing under his grip.

           He nodded. “I know.” His free hand cupped her cheek. “But I let love slip through my fingers once before.” Haytham pressed his forehead to hers. “I won’t allow it to happen again.”

           (Y/N) stared into his eyes, trying to formulate a response. Say something. She thought. Anything! “Are you sure you want me?” Not that!

           He pulled away and laid his head on her shoulder, and she felt him shake against her. “Oh my god, are you laughing at me?!”

           “Just a bit.” He said.

           She shoved him away and stalked over to the bench. “Oh, you’re such an ass!” He followed, taking a seat beside her, grinning while she silently fumed.

           They sat in silence for a while and sometime during that, their hands had come together, fingers lacing between the others. (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder, and this close, she could smell the twinge of peppermint and cedar. She looked down at their hands, examining all the small scars they had.

           “My mother got sick one day…and she never got better. She died when I was nine years old.” She felt his head tilt, telling her that he was listening. “I lived on the streets for a year until Ausilio found me.” His hand tightened on hers. “I felt so safe that first year. I thought everything would be okay but…I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

           “You said you were afraid he’d find you again.” He murmured quietly, like she was a doe and easily spooked.

           “I was.” She nodded. “I’ve never stayed in one place more than two years.” Her eyes drifted to the leather bag. “I figured since I was well past two, I might as well leave.” Again, his hand tightened. “But now…I don’t know if leaving is the best thing.”

           “It’s not.” He said.

           “So sure?” (Y/N) teased.

           “As sure as I’ve ever been of anything.”

           “Can’t be much.”

           “Shay’s right, you are mean.”

           (Y/N) barked a laugh. “Oh, and you’re not?”

           Haytham raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Never said I wasn’t.” He turned his head and gazed at her. “Stay here with me,” he breathed.

           “I’m not exactly a team player, Haytham.” She countered.

           “I’ll be one for you.”

           “I curse a lot.”

           “Every couple needs a foul speaker.”

           “I’m not a gentry member.”

           “My name is big enough to cover you.”

           “I get in fights a lot.”

           “I can patch you up.”

           She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m running out of things to scare you off with.”

           He grinned. “I can tell.” He reached up and poked her nose. “I’m not going to be scared off that easily.”

           (Y/N) didn’t speak for a moment, then she whispered, “I’ve got a lot of scars. On my body…and my soul.”

           Haytham searched her eyes then cupped her cheek. “I do too.” He ran his thumb under her eye, wiping a tear away. “And I’ll help heal every one if you’ll let me.”

           Tears threatened to spill over her eyes. “You want a broken woman like me, Haytham?”

           He shook his head. “The woman before me isn’t broken.” He brushed another tear away, but they kept falling. “The woman before me has rebuilt her castle from ruins.” He pulled away and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “She is unbreakable. She is unshatterable. She is power incarnate, and she holds the world within her hands.” Haytham took a deep breath and bared his soul. “And she holds all that I will ever be in those hands. I would do anything for her.”

           (Y/N) let out a breath that sounded more like a garbled sob and she shifted one of her hands, bringing it up to hold against her mouth.

           Haytham smiled heartfully. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N).”

           She let out a watery laugh, not able to fight the wobbly smile across her face. “You are…one sappy fuck.” (Y/N) pressed her hand to his cheek and he reached up, holding it against his skin. “I love you, Haytham.”

He huffed a laugh, feeling tears gather in his eyes. “Yeah?”

           She nodded and whispered, “Ask me again to stay.”

           Haytham swallowed thickly. “(Y/N), will you stay here, with me? For as long as time will give us?”

           (Y/N) nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes.” She pulled him from his knees, pressing her lips to his. “I’ll stay with you.”

           They broke apart and pressed their foreheads together, tears trailing down both their cheeks. She’d found her freedom. She’d found her hope in helping others. But the one thing she never thought she’d find, she did—love.

[spidernerdsblog]

Love Is The Biggest Spell : Chapter Five

A/N : Chapter five is here. This chapter should have been posted on Halloween lol but never mind. Hope you like this chapter. Feedbacks and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Warlock Tom Holland x half mortal reader

Summary : Witches are forbidden to fall in love with mortals. But what if your long lost love returns to you as a mortal, can you defy your heart? Any spell any magic seems useless in front of the magic of love. Let’s join our lovers in their magical conquest beyond life and death as they fight for their love unravelling dark mysteries of the past along their way.

Warnings : mild language, witchy stuff.

Mini Playlist : Can't help falling in love with you

After you had your breakfast Tom drove you to college. You were walking to your classroom. 

"Y/N!" You heard the voice you despise the most right now call out to you. You didn't look back and quickened your pace. 

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N hey wait please." Cole ran to you grasping your wrist. 

"Leave my hand, Cole!" You yanked your hand away from him. 

"Y/N just listen to me for once I can explain." he pleaded. 

"What more do you have to explain, Cole? That you were making out with me but magically it turned out to be someone else."

"Yeah exactly." 

"Cole can you just stop now. I'm not going to judge your life choices but I hope you enjoyed sucking her mouth." 

"Y/N please you can't do this to me."

"Umm mate I think Y/N made it quite clear that she doesn't want to talk to you." Tom intervened. 

"Listen dude let's just not pretend that this isn't the best day of your life. So please stay out of this"

"Cole! You can’t talk to him like that.” 

"A guy showed you a little affection for one night and now he is the good guy. So typical of you Y/N." you were literally hurt by his words.

"You know what Cole? I was actually thinking of forgiving your not so sorry ass but now I'm so over that thought, we are done for good Cole!"

"C'mon Tom let's go." You stormed off dragging Tom with you by his wrist to the library. 

You slumped down on the seat as Tom took the opposite seat to you 

"I can't believe Cole would say that! I'm an attention seeker? Seriously?!" You seethed. 

"How did you guys even fall in love?" Tom asked out of courtesy though he had no interest in knowing that. 

"You know childhood best friends it was like we owed to date each other." you shrugged.

"Maybe we can do something to divert your attention?" 

"And what is that?" 

"Finish our assignment I guess that's still pending." 

"Seriously?" you gave a disinterested look. 

"What? That is much better than talking about your douchebag boyfriend, ex boyfriend" 

"Yeah maybe some witchy stuff can help keep me distracted." you walked to the shelves and pulled out some books and placed them on the desk with a loud thud. You picked up a book and were turning over some pages in a book and stumbled upon something as you frowned. 

"What’s Dark Baptism?" 

"Huh oh it's a sort of ceremony. The Dark Baptism is the most sacred, unholy sacrament the witches practiced for centuries. The oldest of their rites. A novice witch signs his or her name in the Book of the Beast, and gives the Dark Lord dominion over their soul and in exchange he gives them unlimited power and eternal youth." Tom explained. 

"Huh what’s the use of such powers if I have to give up my freedom of will?" you scoffed. 

"It’s the only one of several possible interpretations, see like all religions have symbolic gestures and demand sacrifices right?" 

"Signing the Book of the Beast is more like a pledge to abide by the devil's commandments." 

"But the Dark Lord aka Satan is the embodiment of evil." You state. Tom corrects you immediately. 

"As per texts he is the embodiment of free will and that he goes beyond the mere concepts of good and evil and the infernal punishment of the "False God"."

"So what about Hell?" you ask.

"If you accept the Dark Lord's gifts, then you won't die for a long time and Hell is for mortals. In exchange for their service and devotion, witches are exempt from the eternal flames of damnation." Tom explains. 

"That's some crazy ass bullshit." You laugh it off. 

"But you seem to have quite in-depth knowledge about these things. Do you happen to practice witchcraft in secret?" you narrowed your eyes. 

"Maybe, who knows" he shrugs." Why are you so invested in knowing all this?" he counter questioned you. 

"Nothing just general curiosity that's it." You shrug. 

"General curiosity or is it about the visions or nightmares whatever you have." Tom smirked.

"Who-who told you.." You stutter. 

"Jane told Harrison and he told me."

"Those are just some stupid dreams that's all."

"Or may be not, maybe you are a psychic or a witch "

“Ha ha very funny.”

"Okay leave all that." Tom cleared his throat. 

"Hey I know it would be really inappropriate for me to ask you. You know you can totally say no."

''Hey it's okay we are friends now c'mon spill it out." you held his hand reassuringly.

"Umm my mother seems to have liked you a lot the day you stopped by our house and wants me to invite you to our Halloween party. It's kind of a spooky themed business gala. "

"Your mother likes me or you?" you narrowed your eyes with a sly smirk.

"No I swear my mom told me to invite you." Tom flustered.

"Okay then tell your mom that I would love to go."

"Oh thanks." Tom’s eyes lit up like a child.

"And by the way if you want me to be your date just ask." You winked. 

"It's - it's nothing like that." he stuttered. 

"Relax anyways I'm single now." you giggled.

"So what are you divs doing?" Harrison dropped in between your conversation.

"Nothing just getting ready for my dark baptism." You chuckled though Harrison gave a mortified look as he exchanged glances with Tom. Who shook his head dismissively to let him know he hasn't said anything. 

“Uh okay..have you seen Jane anywhere?" 

"Why do you also need some attention?" You joked lazily placing a hand on Harrison's shoulder and instantly backed off with a light gasp. 

"You okay?" Harrison asked looking at your horrified expression.

"Yeah, yeah I'm-I’m  fine." you stammered blinking your eyes.

"I'll go and find Jane." You walked away huskily. 

…….........

Agatha and Zendaya visited a farm to purchase a black goat to be used for sacrifice during your dark baptism in the woods. 

"What is on your mind mother? A few days ago you wanted that half breed dead but now you are here arranging for her dark baptism. I don't understand any of this."

"Well you three failed in your task and I'm grateful to Satan for that this time because I recently found out she is the key to perform the spell by which our coven will gain infinite powers."

"What spell?"

"For now you don't need to know more than this. Just remember that girl needs to be protected."

…………..

It's 31st of October and you are officially 25. You were at the cafe as Jane came in all bubbly and chirpy.

“Happy Birthday babe!!!” Jane exclaimed, giving you a tight hug.

“Thank you babe.” Tom and Harrison dropped in after sometime.

“Isn’t it your birthday day? Why the hell are you working today?”. 

“Because it’s my birthday.”

"Well somebody has got the whole concept of birthday wrong." tom quipped.

“Here we brought something for you.” He placed a cake box on the table.

“Jane dear can you arrange this for us please.” Harrison asked her sweetly.

“Of Course will.”

“Seriously guys you didn’t have to do this.” Jane was quick to arrange the cake on a tray with some candles and placed it in front of you. You blow out the candles as they sing for you.

“Thank you so much guys.” your heart swelled in happiness.

“We would have loved to stay but we have another party to arrange so see you girls in the evening.” Harrison said.

“I'll pick you up at seven.” Tom informed you softly.

“Will be waiting.” You smiled. After they left you turned to Jane. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Yeah what?" 

"What do you know about Harrison? Apart from he's a sex God. His family and life." you snickered.

"Umm they are rich, business partners with the Hollands. Loves his mom and sister a lot. Why?" 

"Nothing, you are my best friend just don't want you to fall for the wrong guy. I finally learnt my lesson. Heh." You chuckled slowly. 

“Don’t worry babe if he does something bad I’ll give you the privilege of kicking his ass.” She laughed and went to the back of the shop. 

Now how will you tell her that when you touched him you had one of your stupid visions. You saw blood, pentacles, human skulls, it felt so inauspicious the darkness engulfing you. Your eyes went to the blown out birthday candles and you suddenly remembered about the night where the candle caught fire on it’s own. Then you recalled Tom saying that you may be psychic and you suddenly got the idea of testing the fact.

"This is all a hoax, I'm not psychic nor a witch. I was drunk and was seeing things." you said to yourself and took a deep breath.

"Well here goes to nothing." You focused on them but nothing happened. 

"Huh, definitely a hoax" you blew out your cheeks and turned to do your work. But when you turned around again to your surprise each and every candle was lit up magically. You exhaled deeply, frowning.

……………

Reaching home you went to your room and saw a big gift box kept on your bed. You took the lid off the box to find an expensive black dress with a note. 

Happy Birthday Y/N. Will be really happy if you wear this tonight.  Love T. H

You smiled and held out the dress in front of you admiring it in the full length mirror in your room, it was the most exquisite thing you have ever seen. The soft silky fabric with intricate lace work was literal work of art. You changed into the dress and decided to let your hair down for tonight with minimal jewelry and makeup. 

Meanwhile Tom and Harrison were getting ready in their finest tux for the gala and your baptism. 

"You really gifted her the wedding dress." 

"Well it's an important night for her she will be turning into a complete witch and hopefully her memories will come back after that." Tom said, fixing his cufflinks. 

"You ready son?" Nikki walked into his room. 

"Yes mother." Nikki could see in his eyes that something was bothering him. 

"Don't worry I talked to your father and I will be presenting your dear Y/N for her baptism." Tom's eyes lit up hearing the news. It's usually the mother who presents her child for the baptism but your mother will not be able to attend it so the whole thing of who will be presenting you was bugging him for a while. And hearing that his mother is going to do that relieved him. 

"Really mother! Thank you so much." 

"I’m really happy that you’re finally going to be happy in your life son." 

Tom was there to pick you up sharp at 7. You stepped out of your house as you saw him waiting for you leaning against his car. He couldn't take his eyes off you. You literally looked like an angel he thought.

"You look gorgeous, love."

"Thank you, you look surprisingly dapper too." 

"Thank you." 

"But you didn't have to buy me such an expensive dress. The whole night now I will be so self conscious of not ruining the dress."

"I will buy you a new one don't worry."

"Ha ha not happening again. Now let’s go"

He opened the door of the car for you as you sat inside the car. You reached his place in an hour and stepped out of the car holding his hand as he led you inside. 

You walked into the ballroom and your breath was caught at the grandeur. You’d never been in a space that made you feel so small–or so plain. Crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the arching sky-blue ceiling, illuminating the glimmering golden walls and a floor so polished it looked like an iced-over lake. And it wasn’t just the ballroom–the women sparkled like a box of jewels, shades of emerald and ruby and amethyst swirling before you, their low chatter accompanying wafts of rose and hyacinth and jasmine.

"Whoa dude am I supposed to be a part of this gala? I mean just look at all the people around." you gave out a nervous laugh.

"You were always supposed to be here Y/N."

You are immediately greeted by Jane and Harrison.

“Hey you made it!” Jane hugged you and your dress caught her eyes.

“Damn girl now that’s a one of a kind ball gown.” She giggled as you blushed.

“Only for the one of a kind girl.” Tom snickered.

You, Tom, Harrison and Jane then hit the dance floor, slow music playing.

Wise men say Only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you

You clasped on to his hand placing another hand on his shoulder blade as he did the same. You began moving back and forth waltzing around the ballroom. Spinning and circles and shuffling your feet to the slow, rhythmic music. It was paradise, but even more so when your eyes met.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you

His eyes were chocolate brown, which made your knees buckle and your lips quiver. He narrowed his eyes slightly and let out a small chuckle. Your dress was getting in the way and your heels were making you clumsy or you were actually clumsy around him. He noticed your discomfort and changed his stance making it easier for you to follow. His grip tightened on your hand giving it a comforting squeeze making your heart skip a beat.

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes

You swayed to the music, bodies so close, his hand still grasping yours. This was perfect as if time stood still, your gaze filled with burning desires as he looked down to your slightly parted lips. Tom was trying to get a read on you as you looked at you longingly. You could feel your cheeks burning and you knew you're blushing on the outside which only made his smile grow wider.

Some things are meant to be So take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you For I can't help falling in love with you

He dropped your hand but before you could frown he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body even more closer. His kind, smiling face met yours as you felt his sweet, warm breath fanning your face. Your breath hitched all that brooding, pining and longing stares just for this magical moment. Out of instinct you tilted your face a little, closing your eyes. But instead Tom knelt down to your ear  and whispered.

“Parere mandatis meis.” You opened your eyes with a vacant gaze as if someone robbed you of your emotions and reasoning. You stood there like a living statue. 

"Y/N now listen to me carefully you are going to do whatever I say okay?" 

"Yes." You nodded in a mechanical fashion. Agatha walked towards you.

"Is she ready?" 

"Yes Lady Layman”

"Good then bring her to the altar." 

“Was the hypnosis necessary?”

“You got a better idea to make your non believer half witch willingly go through her baptism?” Agatha quipped.

“No” He answered lowly.

“Then bring her outside fast midnight is approaching, the blood moon will appear soon.” She ordered.

The party moves outside, where the moon is at its fullest and begins to turn red. With midnight approaching, everyone rushes off into the woods. Tom took you to a gate burning with blue flames, you pass through the blue flames unharmed and arrive at your baptism, where the Holland's, Osterfield's, Layman's, and many other important delegates are in attendance. 

"All this grandeur for a half breed's baptism, how pathetic is that?" Zendaya quipped, rolling her eyes. 

The priest assigned for your baptism arrived at the altar.

"Welcome daughter of Night" 

"Who presents this girl for unholy baptism?" He reckons.

"I do." Nikki states. 

"We are gathered here in these woods in the presence of our dark lord, with all the souls, the living and the dead, of our coven

the most unholy church of dark." He addresses. 

"Kneel child." You kneel in front of him in your trance. 

The priest smears blood over your forehead and read you your rights and demands your loyalty.

"There is no law beyond. Do what thou wilt." He states. 

"Our dark lord asks - 

" Would you like to be happy child, to be free?" 

"Free to love and to hate? To be what nature meant you to be, true to her laws and yourself only?" you stay numb Tom takes the initiation. 

"Say yes Y/N." 

"Yes, father." You say as you were told. 

"Do you believe in Lucifer, the archangel, who preferred the loss of Heaven to that of his pride?" 

"Yes, father." 

"In exchange for this belief, you shall be granted powers that will enable you to be of service to the dark lord." 

"Y/N Warren are you willing to forsake the path  of light and follow the path of night wherever it may lead you?" 

"I am" 

"And are you willing to place our dark lord above all others in your life, be it your loved ones, friends, family." you pause for a moment but under the hypnosis spell even if you wanted to but you couldn't make your own decisions. 

"I ...am" 

"Then it's time to sign his book." The weather started to deteriorate as strong winds started to blow and thunder rumbling at a distance could be heard. 

Meanwhile at your home your mother was turning restless with the sudden change in the weather she ran to your Aunt Rose's room. 

"Rose what's happening?"

"It's about time Martha." Rose says coldly. 

"What do you mean? Where is Y/N?" Martha panicked. 

"Don't worry she will be fine but for some people this is the beginning of their end"

"Mom what's happening?" Erica came running too. 

"Oh Erica you are here can you fetch me the ancestral calcified bowl." Erica did as she was told. 

"Martha give me the ashes of Amber." She handed over a bottle of ash as Rose poured it in the bowl. She lit the candles around the bowl with her magic and chanted. 

"Here and now 

I evoke the elemental force of Fire

the flames of creativity and passion

dancing source of heat, light and life. 

I seek the flowing forge within

I call you forth to burn away

All that impedes my highest vision

And to enact change in the world

Lightning and hearth

Hearth and forge

Fire, I call thee hence" 

Rose focused on the ashes in the bowl as flames erupted in it. 

"Y/N wake up, recognize your true self" 

“Phasmatos Incendia Ignis absumet Ignarious. Ignarious! Ignarious Ignalusa”

Meanwhile you were standing at the altar and an ancient book was kept open on the flat stone in front of you. The priest took a knife and made an incision on your hand as a drop of blood flowed down from the cut on the page. Tom was behind you as the priest signalled him to proceed; he took your hand with the pen to sign your name in the book. Just when you were about to sign the Dark Lord’s Book of the Beast with your blood, Rose's invocation ritual broke the hypnosis spell on you and you were snapped out of your trance. The fog that clouded your mind got lifted as you felt light headed. It took awhile for you to process what was happening around you. 

"You swear to obey without any question any order you may receive from tHe dark lord, or from any figure He placed in authority over you." 

"In signing you swear to give your mind, body, and soul unreservedly to the furtherance of the designs of our lord satan." The priest went on.

"No!!" You yanked your hand away from Tom's grasp. 

"What do you mean no child?" the priest frowned. 

"Who are you? Where the hell am I?!" You looked around in confusion. 

"Tom what's going on? Where's Jane?!" you look at him with panic stricken eyes. 

"Y/N,love, listen to me this is for your own good just complete the ritual" 

"Is this some kind of Halloween prank because it's not funny."

"You think you are sick with some neural disease that is why you can't feel warmth. Y/N don't you understand that you are not human." Tom tried to make you understand.

“Tom why are you so up to prove that I’m some sort of psychic?”

''You are a smart girl Y/N don't tell me the visions you get doesn't seem real? That you didn't light up a candle just by focusing your mind on it." agatha quipped.

"You are a half witch Y/N magic runs in your blood and to reach your full potential you have to submit to our Dark Lord" 

"Whatever I maybe there is another path for me. A third way. And even if there isn't, my name is Y/N Warren, and I will not sign it away!" you stated. 

"If you don't complete the ritual then you have to face the wrath of the dark lord." Agatha warned. 

"The only thing I'm gonna do is to get away from you jackass people."

The coven tries to stop you from escaping as everyone chanted in unison. 

“Crescere arbor” 

While you attempt to escape you become entangled in magical possessed vines which held you to your place.

"Why can't I move?" you struggled to free yourself. 

"You're not leaving unless and until you complete the ritual."

Suddenly the stone of your antique necklace starts glowing, emitting a reddish orange aura which just grew in intensity as time passed blinding your eyes. A sudden rage started to grow inside trying to burst out. 

Your body was shaking imminently as the blazing inferno coursing inside you was becoming too much for your body to handle. You forced your eyes open and a chill ran down the spines of everyone present for the ceremony. You irises appeared like burning coals of fire. 

They flashed with anger, a burning animosity growing in your amber orbs. Tom couldn't recognize you anymore you appeared to be a totally different person. 

Flares started erupting from your hands soon turning into flames ready to engulf anyone that came in your way. The flames spread to the magical vines holding you as they were burned into ashes setting you free. You gasped as you looked at your hands on fire. 

"What's happening?! What did you guys do to me?!" You panicked. 

"Y/N, love calm down. Just try to control it"

"I can't!!'' You growled 

"I can help, just let me help you Y/N" 

"No! Don't come near me." You warned with a hoarse voice. A ring of fire formed around you.

"Tom do something or she will burn down the whole forest." Harrison said in panic. 

''You've nothing to fear no one will do you any harm."

"Just calm down and everything will be fine. Close your eyes and focus, love"

You closed your eyes taking in measured breaths trying to calm yourself. It worked as the raging inside you dissipated. Your hands were no more on fire. 

"Suctus Incendia" everyone chanted in unison and the fire died down. 

You on the other hand felt weak and drained out as you collapsed on the ground unconscious. 

…………………………………………………………………..

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[novelsandtea]

Book Review: A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas

Rate: 4.5/5

Nesta Archeron has always been prickly-proud, swift to anger, and slow to forgive. And ever since being forced into the Cauldron and becoming High Fae against her will, she's struggled to find a place for herself within the strange, deadly world she inhabits. Worse, she can't seem to move past the horrors of the war with Hybern and all she lost in it. The one person who ignites her temper more than any other is Cassian, the battle-scarred warrior whose position in Rhysand and Feyre's Night Court keeps him constantly in Nesta's orbit. But her temper isn't the only thing Cassian ignites. The fire between them is undeniable, and only burns hotter as they are forced into close quarters with each other. Meanwhile, the treacherous human queens who returned to the Continent during the last war have forged a dangerous new alliance, threatening the fragile peace that has settled over the realms. And the key to halting them might very well rely on Cassian and Nesta facing their haunting pasts. Against the sweeping backdrop of a world seared by war and plagued with uncertainty, Nesta and Cassian battle monsters from within and without as they search for acceptance-and healing-in each other's arms.

 This is the fourth book in Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses world. If you haven’t read the first three books – Go read them! Not only are they amazing stories, but this book will not make much sense without the background, even if it is more of a spin-off from the core trilogy. 

I really liked this book! It has a little bit of everything: drama, quests, banter, romance, danger, spice (okay more than a little bit there). Its over 750 pages long, and I spent almost every free moment I had reading it and was finished in three days. That’s saying something since I’m not a particularly fast reader. I had worried about getting into a story that was not only not focused on my favorites from the previous books, but one of the two POVs was probably my least favorite character of the entire series (hello Nesta). By the time I finished it, however, I was cheering for every success these characters had! I seriously recommend this book, especially to anyone interested in a story that has a slower build but is still packed with wonderful moments that will have you at the edge of our seat.

Aaaand that’s really all I have for the non-spoiler section! Full review below.

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Since finishing the book, I’ve sat down and really thought about the plot of the story. As Maas’s books are typically very action packed, I had gone into this book expecting the same. While still having some real tense action scenes, a lot less happens in this book which is surprising considering its size. I think that is telling of Maas’s talent in her character development and her ability to make a story of recovery and growth as riveting as one filled with war and battles. The majority of the story is focused on Nesta and her healing from the traumatic events she had gone through during the previous books. I truthfully never really liked Nesta, and I found her to be incredibly selfish and harsh. Even in the beginning of ACOSF, she is always angry and lashing out at everyone around her. While it had me wanting to pull out my hair, I ended up loving that we get that unapologetic broken character in the beginning. We follow Nesta throughout her entire arc of recovery. We see her in her lowest of lows and are right alongside her as she learns how to work through her traumas and pain and face the person she has become. I especially loved the focus on healing broken relationships and accepting both responsibility and forgiveness. Not everything is perfectly healed by the end, but we do see Nesta walking a better path having accepted all parts of herself, both dark and light. A lot of time is spent on Nesta trying to push down that darkness and death that she associates with her powers. Seeing her not only accept that part of her but finally understand how she can exist beyond it was so impactful, and I think it does a good job of holding a mirror to similar feelings that I believe a lot of people have experienced. I really loved the hike and breakdown that followed her explosion at Amren’s place and the reveal to Feyre. The way mental health is represented in this book is refreshing, and so many parts of it felt so raw and real. It really struck a chord with me, and moved me in many ways as I was reading. It may sound cliché, but reading about Nesta learning to heal helped me acknowledge and accept parts of myself.

While Cassian is half of the POV in this book, it truly does feel like Nesta’s story. That being said, I did love the parts of Cassian we had. I loved reading his struggle with wanting to be there for Nesta in the ways she needed but also needing to protect himself. I adored how he truly saw her and always accepted every part, even all the ugly spots. When he felt the mating bond snap into place but left knowing Nesta couldn’t deal with it at that time, gah I was dying. Cassian never once pitied her. He wanted to help and protect her, but he knew it was a journey she had to do herself. He is a leading force in Nesta’s growth and constantly offers both his own strength and vulnerability. I really enjoyed seeing the love grow between them, especially as Nesta learned to open herself more to the possibility of healing and finding her own place and purpose. I just really can’t get enough of them together! I also really loved the moments we got between the three brothers – I was surprised by how much I had wanted those scenes. It was exciting to get a closer glimpse into that aspect of Cassian’s life, and the bond between him, Az, and Rhys.

I can’t avoid at least mentioning the smut in this book. All I will really say is this book has really stepped fully into the adult category. The scenes were extremely intense, steamy, and pretty descriptive. If you were looking for that typical Maas smuttiness aspect, be prepared for this book to be several notches above what we’ve seen previously (and a lot more of it).  

I could seriously talk about this book forever, but as I already fear I’ve begun to ramble, I’m just going to list some of my favorite things I haven’t mentioned yet below:

 The House!! I loved the relationship that developed between it and Nesta. Their interactions really became conversations, and I loved the idea of a sentient object becoming a core force in Nesta’s life. Also only-bubble baths and a baby pegasus are always a win.

Every snarky comment between Nesta and Cassian. Extremely entertaining and witty.

The entire Court of Nightmare scene with the dancing. So powerful and I loved seeing Nesta in her element.

The process of Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn coming together. I really loved reading about their training together, and the chapters once they meet up in the Blood Rite were some of my favorites. Their mini romance book club was precious.

A Rhys and Feyre baby! While I had some issues with this plot point, I still enjoyed the place it had in the story. The reactions of Cassian and Azriel was one of my favorite moments of the entire book.

The introduction to what I assume is the next major villain for the rest of the series. While it didn’t feature too largely until the end of the book, I think it did a good job setting up the situation for future installments.

The search for the Dead Trove. I really loved each moment we get, especially with the kelpie during the search for the mask. Good stuff

A few things I didn’t love:

I didn’t love how often Mor was gone. I know she did not really have a role in this story, but it would have been nice to see her more in passing as we did other characters.

The whole early delivery aspect of the pregnancy plot line. It felt a little plot convenient to me, and no explanation was ever given. I did like Nesta’s sacrifice and that moment, but I didn’t like how and why it happened.

I didn’t love that Rhys was trying so hard to hide the truth about the pregnancy from Feyre. I can kind of understand it when thinking about how he knew they were all probably going to die (that dumb bargain what the heck) but it is still stupid. Not the biggest issue to me, just not my favorite thing.

How much time we spent focused on the queen only to have her completely removed from the entire story in a blink. I know Nesta was insanely powerful at the time, but I just wanted…more.

I went into this book with very different expectations from what I got. I really enjoyed reading it, and I will definitely be getting the next book when it is published. Whether you loved or hated Nesta in the earlier books, I would recommend giving this one a chance. It sure changed my mind! Let me know your thoughts, I would love to discuss it!

[phemonoi]

I've always loved greek mythology and the gods. Ever since I was five and was suddenly drawn to get that book. After diving into the world of magick I realized that I've always believed and preferred the old gods (especially the greek pantheon). So I started giving them offerings from time to time and communicating. I've seen the candle flame flickering. It's been a few months since I did something for them and that made me realize that I've been sloppy and not serious enough //1

Because I want to ACtually build something deeper and stronger. I really love them and want to be close to them, like a family. I'm especially drawn to the big three and the twins. I want to seriously devote myself to them but I'm also a bit afraid if they'd be angry at me and my irresponsibility and brush me off. How do you contact them and interact with them on a deeper level? And how do you talk and agree on having one another in your lives? //2

By the way, I've been manifesting becoming a better Artist as of late and last night as I was going home, something compelled me to look down and I saw a discarded paint brush even though it was super dark. Then as I kept walking home after picking it up, I felt someone brush all th le way from my shoulder to my middle back. I seriously though it was someone walking behind me trying to get my attention but when I turned around there was no one but a cat. So I take this as a sign. //3

Maybe my relationship with the gods isn't completely severed //4

☀️🌻🌙🌾

Love, I completely understand you. I also profoundly desire to be closer to the Gods. I really want to feel them and listen to them and be able to honor them daily in sacred ways. That's why I started studying about Theurgy and hope one day I become a good theurgist. Theurgy literally means “god work” and it's the act of performing rites and incorporating certain habits into our lives with the objective of becoming one with the Gods. It is a neoplatonic practice, a very beautiful one, which objective is to feel the Gods in henosis (union) and to return to them after life. I really recommend yo read about pagan theurgy if you want to add more meaning to your worship!

Trust me when I say this; the Gods will never be angry at you. Not if you don't kill or abuse anyone. I mean, the Gods —in my experience— get angry just about one thing: hubris. They won't get even slightly disappointed at you for not having offered them anything in months. I think, in fact, that they understand. The global situation is very difficult right now and we all have to deal with our own personal issues on top of all. Make an offering if you can, tell them what's up, explain your intentions and your feelings, and they'll understand. I promise.

When we talk about contacting the Gods on a deeper level, we may picture different things. Some people, less experienced, may picture a type of one-to-one relationship full of moments of theophany and clarity like the ones we tend to post here on Tumblr. But the truth is, that doesn't happen for anyone. The deepest relationship one can have with the Gods is that of contemplation. We feel way more things, way fuller, when we are seeing the light and we realise that's Apollo's doing, than when we just enact a conversation with him through tarot. It's way more meaningful to listen to the sounds of thunder and hail Zeus than to crack a joke with him. Personally, I think contemplating the Gods and their actions in our world builds a deeper connection to them.

We invite the Gods in through ritual —we connect to them in our daily lives, by following their virtues, remembering them, and perhaps even doing devotional stuff for them. Writing poetry and listening to music in honor of Apollo, mindfully, will help you get closer to him because you get to understand him better and what his blessings to humanity make you feel. Being strong and disciplined for Artemis will build a sense of her guidance. Studying maritime life, perhaps even having a fish pet, will definitely help with Poseidon. Honoring the dead, doing spirit work, buying stones from ethical sources, is a way to honor Hades as well and feel closer to him.

[fvaleraye]

Ashes and Dust

Heyyyyyy, would you look at that... another Scintillam chapter. Ngl, I hit a creative block super hard for a while. I had several WIPs that I wanted to do, but... like, once I started them, I didn’t really feel it, y’know? So, I decided to start fresh, and just. Work on something chill. So I did! This is gonna be another Charthos chapter, I’ll probably swap back to the gals pov soon, but I’m just feeling my old cranky pyromancer man rn Also, I would like to give a big shoutout to @artnerd1123 for proofreading the chapter for me, and helping fix some stuff that i missed/didn’t think about. Tyvm, Belle... I appreciate you... Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy reading...

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

The month of the Blazing Moon meant long days, and short nights. A dreadful heat washed over most of the land, as the name implied, save for the ever-chilled northern mountains, of course. The farmers across the land harvested their summer crops and prepared for the coming of fall. Though travel wasn't exactly booming in the suffocating summer heat- unless the travel led to a coast or someplace cooler- there were many who were unbothered by the temperature. The lizardfolk especially thrived during these times. On the other hand, pyromancers considered the Blazing Moon to be a holy month, if for no other reason than the fact that it preceded the coming of the Embered Moon, when the Rite of Embers would take place. To see a pyromancer out of their lands during these months was a rarity, but one could be seen walking the roads. An old, tired pyromancer. Charthos had been travelling for weeks. Magna Terra was not small, but the place he searched for was. Just a modest little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. In the Great Plains, no less- one of the biggest open spaces of absolutely nothing on the whole continent. It was easier to navigate than the Ashen Plains. No waist-high ash to trudge through. Roads were still sparse, though. And every direction looked equally identical. At least the sun was visible, that helped. And he had a passable sense of direction. And he remembered the little town from many, many years ago. It had something resembling sentimental significance for him. Something like that. Still wasn't easy to find. There weren't exactly towers scraping the clouds to tell him when he was getting close. If he was visiting one of the cities, this wouldn't be nearly as difficult. He huffed, embers and sparks leaving his old, splintered body. He watched the little sparks of life fall to the earth. At least this grass isn't dry yet. He mused. That would cause issues for the Uncharred 'round here, huh... He let out a quiet little chuckle. For a people who didn't use fire for much more than lighting the dark or warming things up, they sure did live in some flammable areas. A few suns pass, more of the same. Eventually, hints of brown wood, stone foundations, and gray smoke from chimneys started to peak over the horizon. Thank the fucking Traveller, I'm finally here. Or, well, close enough.

Another few minutes of trudging slowly on the path lead the pyromancer to the town square. It was a quiet town. Or, at least, it was supposed to be. There was a decent crowd gathered in the middle of the square, seemed like the whole town, or near enough. They were gathered around a woman in strange garb standing on a small makeshift stage. She was not a short woman- even if she was level with the crowd she would probably still peek over their heads- but she was still clearly human. At least, from what one could tell. She wore a pale dress with no sleeves, and ribbons circled her arms. Her face was covered but a wooden mask, the face of it painted with a fierce, purple visage, with horns protruding from the sides, her brown hair braided underneath it. Around her on the stage were a few other similarly dressed individuals, though, unlike her,  they were silent. The woman was yelling and gesturing with all the fervor and energy of a young, opinionated priest. But she wasn't a priestess. At least, not like one he had seen. He stepped closer to the edge of the crowd to better hear what had the strange woman up in arms.

"-nd one day, they will return! The great, scaled beasts of time immemorial!" She cried. "The dragons will return, and the skies shall darken beneath their great wings, as they take back what was once, what has always been, theirs, and destroy those who presume to own their lands, their world!" She began pointing to various members of the crowd. "All of you, all of us, will be wiped from this world, like footprints washed away in a rainstorm, as the fury of nature itself descends on us, and we will all be but ashes and dust! Unless we supplicate the great scaled ones as we once did! Mayhaps, they will even see fit to elevate us to their greatness! You need only-!"

Charthos began to walk away after realizing that the one he was looking for wasn't among the crowd, as well as getting tired of the woman's screeching, and the looks from the crowd. Doomsayers. Dime a dozen nowadays... He thought, given an exasperated sigh. He stepped away from the main square, and began making his way towards the residential area of the little town. He glanced over each home as he walked, looking for one in particular. They were all very similar; wooden walls and roof, at least two windows, chimney, stone foundation raising it above the dirt... the differences were aesthetic. Some had nice curtains. Others had cleanly painted roofs, or walls. A few had flowers, whether gardens of them, or simply a few on the window sill. It was downright pleasant. What I wouldn't give to live like this again. Even if only for a time. He brushed off the sentimental thoughts as he turned to one house, practically near the end of the edge of town. It was simple, like all the others. It had purple curtains, and rather... exotic looking plants growing in a side garden. He walked up the steps, and gave the door a small knock. There was some silence, and then he knocked again, this time louder. Footsteps started approaching the door, the sounds of several locks being undone sounded past the wooden surface. After a moment, a pair of gray eyes peeked past a crack in the door. They looked over the demon-infested, wooden man, and closed the door to undo another lock. The door creaked open, revealing a tired looking woman in patchy clothes. "May I come in?" Charthos asked, hesitantly. The woman just motioned him inside, and locked the door before turning to face him.

"What do you want, old man?" She asked tersely, leaning on the doorway of the dimly lit, but still rather charming abode.

"Hello to you too, Penelope." He replied, his tone jabbing at her.

"If you're going to be like that, get out." She spit, her tired voice laced with venom.

"Aw, I feel so welcomed. Every grandfather's dream." He sighed, crouching down in front of the fireplace. "I need a favor from you, dear."

"Of course you do." She let out a spiteful laugh, still leaning on the doorway. "You never write, let alone visit, unless you need something from me."

Uncomfortable silence settled over the room, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. The man simply stared into the roaring flame in the stone fireplace, lost in his own head for a moment that felt like eternity. He didn't want to reply. He couldn't reply. Not with anything she would want to hear. Nothing he could say would make up for anything. Even if he wasn't facing her, he could feel her gaze piercing through him, bright and furious, like a bolt of lightning.

"Are you going to say anything?" She said, her frustrated tone slicing through the silence like a dagger.

"What do you want me to say?" He spat back, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm sorry? I've said that. I've said it so many times to so many people it's lost its meaning. Want me to say I was wrong? Well I was. Too late to change anything. What can I say that'll make you happy?"

Silence settled again. No answer came. She couldn't think of one. She just gave a long, tired sigh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He mumbled, turning back to the fire. "What are you cooking in here?"

She raised a brow at the question. "Excuse me?"

"What are you cooking in this fire?" He gestured to what was seemingly open air above the fire. "You're not warmin' up. Not in the middle of bleedin' summer. What are you cooking?"

After a brief moment of indignant hesitation, Penelope stepped away from the doorway, and waved a hand at the fire. The once orange and yellow flames turned black and purple, and all light they once produced vanished. In the center was a now visible deer's skull, being slowly and unnaturally devoured by the flames. Black magic. The pyromancer gave a small chuckle. "You really are like your mum." He said, tilting his head at it. "... how's she doin', by the by?"

"She's fine." The witch replied, tersely.

"... I'll take your word for it." He sighed. "How's your deadbeat pop?"

She returned with a sigh of her own, before giving an answer. "Hell if I know."

"I figured as much."

The two continued to stare at the dark flame in silence, as it casted dark and unnatural shadows over the room. The shifting shapes whispered indecipherably, in dead languages. Neither were very perturbed by it, but the girl was the only one really listening. That's why it was there, after all. After about half an hour of silence, the deer skull was gone, completely devoured by the flames, and with that, the black flames were gone near instantly, as well as the shapes, and their whispering. Light returned to the room, but silence was still dominant. Eventually, it was broken by another long sigh from the young witch. "I'll say it again. What do you want, old man?" He stared quietly at the open space where there was once fire. There were no embers. No smoke. It was as if it wasn't even there. An absolute void of space within the stone fireplace. Pristine. As if it had never been used once. He took a long, deep breath. He wanted to berate her. Tell her to maybe not make dealings with these things, but it would fall on deaf ears. Same as her mother. And besides. He wasn't one to talk, really.

"I need a coal." He said, finally. His request stilled the air in the wooden home.

After a moment of silence, the witch simply leaned over, reaching a hand into the fireplace, as a dark, viscous substance started to bleed from the stone. It wormed and writhed to the space where her hand rested, and formed into a small stone-like object. Darker than black, it seemed to suck the light out of the area around it. She handed it to him wordlessly, and he took it, stuffing it into a bag at his hip. With that now in his possession, he stood up, and looked to her. "Thank you, dear." He whispered, stepping towards the door. "I'll be going now. I know when I'm not wanted." He stepped out the door, and it was shut behind him. No goodbyes were exchanged, nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said. As he stepped down from the porch of the humble little house and back onto the dirt, he glanced back over his shoulder. "... I love you, dear." He said, wistfully. "You and your mum. I always did. The only flesh and blood I got left." He looked to the ground, his branches swaying a bit in the wind. "... and you." He added, seemingly to no-one in particular. Seemingly. "If any harm comes to her on account of you, I will know. And I will find you." With those final, ominous words, he started his trip out back out of town, a shape slipping out of his shadow as he left, to his next stop on this little journey of his.

[lyricfrost13]

Miss me?

Mollymauk, leveled up, still fabulously rocking the whole mixing patterns aesthetic.

 I have explanations for design stuff under the cut!

And if you can’t read my handwriting, which is 90% of the population - I’ll just go from the head down:

Kept the piercings the same, except added eyebrow studs. Just simple gold ones. Hair? Everybody in the Nein seemed to grow it out, so I gave him a braid.

Cowl-necked tunic with a low neckline for access for his rites while still being Fashion. Dark maroon, I imagine with fastenings on the right side. No sleeves. 

Over the tunic is a chain shirt in the barest of senses - I called it the chain cardigan in my head. It has a low v, is two-toned chain from left to right (because Molly? Clashing colors? Yes! Also half-sun-half-moon symbolism.) The cuffs that end the sleeves are crown-like, because “long may he reign” and such. Overcoat is constructed from what was left of his old coat - most of it, with a bit of tailoring diy to account for some damage. Patches, a feathered (yeah raven of course) guard at the bottom, no sleeves, altered collar. 

Belts - add ‘em. Pants? I went with a faint pinstripe for the new pair because otherwise it might distract from the everything else. 

His boots are, like his coat, diy-ed a bit to account for change. Additions include colored panels and fancy dagger sheaths. Still thigh high. Also armored greaves with filigree and cards. 

Only one sword remains, thanks to Fjord, but it has a chain accessory - because you can’t tell me Lucien’s cult wasn’t the Angel of Irons one, when Obann kept people who wouldn’t stay dead as his sacrifices for rituals. The chain is a reminder of his enemy and sometimes a ticket into their meetings, if he has a good enough CHA roll.

And, to account for the other sword: clawed gauntlet. for Aesthetic. It has thematic filigree that I didn’t bother to do up close in detail, but in my head there’s a big top tent, a flaming fist, arrows and a door, and angel wings and a serpent’s eye. Basically for the life he lived and the Nein as he knew them. 

Thoughts?

[atricksterproblem]

Whomst wants to read my dumb conspiracy-theory nonsense about Masonic symbolism in the story of Ghost as we have it so far?

Warning: What is probably complete unsubstantiated garbage lies within. I’ve also no doubt messed up some of the details of the material because I’m only giving a really sketchy outline of the basics here.

So, all this stuff goes back to the story of Hiram Abiff, which is used as part of the initiation rite for Master Masons, apparently. 

The jist of it is that Hiram was a master builder who worked on Solomon’s temple. When the temple is almost done, he’s set upon by three ruffians who were fellow masons, demanding the secrets of master masonry from him. He refuses to tell, and they kill him.

The ruffians give him a shoddy secret burial. He is later found by King Solomon and the rest of the builders and removed from that grave for a subsequent, better burial. The details of the story differ a bit from place to place, but that’s the very basic common thread.

The rest of Hiram’s story starts to get sketchy at about this point. It’s never really clarified as to whether and how he was reburied. It seems that he might not have been reburied at all. He might have been resurrected in some way. From what I’ve been able to determine, this is the point on which the initiation mystery turns. When the story is used for an initiate, they go through a version of what a lot of such initiations have always been: they’re brought down into a dark place, and then back up into the light.

So there’s this book, The Lost Keys of Freemasonry, written by a Mason, that discusses, and embroiders on, a lot of this material. I found some passages quoted from it here, and I’m just going to put the relevant bits below:

“Again the Voice spoke from the heavens where the Great King sat upon the clouds of creation: 'He is not dead; he is asleep. Who will awaken him? His labors are not done, and in death he guards the sacred relics more closely than ever, for the Word and the tracing board are his - I have given them to him. But he must remain asleep until these three who have slain him shall bring him back to life, for every wrong must be righted, and the slayers of my house, the destroyers of my temple, must labor in the place of their Builder until they raise their Master from the dead.'”

 “ 'O God!' cried the three murderers, 'where shall we find our Master now?' A hand reached down again from the Great Unseen and a tiny lamp was handed them, whose oil flame burned silently and clearly in the darkness. 'By this light shall ye seek him whom ye have slain.' The three forms surrounded the light and bowed in prayer and thanksgiving for this solitary gleam which was to light the darkness of their way. [...]  Through the misty dawn, like strange phantoms of a dream, three figures wandered over the great Unknown carrying in their hands a tiny light, the lamp given to them by their Builder's Father. Over stick and stone and cloud and star they wandered, eternally in search of a silent grave, stopping again and again to explore the depths of some mystic recess, praying for liberation from their endless search; yet bound by their vows to raise the Builder they had slain, whose grave was marked by the broken twig, and whose body was laid away in the white winding sheet of death somewhere over the brow of the eternal hill.”

[x]

Hmm.

Look, I don’t know about what you guys think, but all this is kind of suggestive of something.