#the light of the moon guiding me around the forest <3

[demonicbaby666]

Ignorance is Bliss

One Shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Regina Mills x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst no comfort

Words: 1.3k+

Summary: You remember the wee little lass from season 1 who gets his heart crushed? Yes, Graham. He doesn’t actually exist in this, but you do... After a brief kiss with Emma it seems the truth has come to light and now you have to make a decision as to whether you want to confront it, or run away from it.

A/n: Don't worry, I hate myself for this one too </3

In the crescent moon’s light, faces seem distorted, shrouded in sullen tones. Dark figures cast their jaded shadows upon concrete roads and littered sidewalks as they stalked toward their destinations. Houses, apartments, or perhaps even a small diner treasured amongst the townsfolk. For you, your destination remained hidden, a secret, feet carrying you through the dimly lit streets to a familiar patch of land.

The wind whispered the lost tales of those who had their names etched on stone. Some old, some young, and some unable to talk over the endless possibilities they’d never been acquainted with, taken straight from the world before they were able to see the light, and dark, held within it. 

Stood in the distance was the mausoleum. Ivy crept along its sidewalls, the red door just bright enough to stand out in the dark and guide you in the direction you needed to go. 

Going off your rough estimations you had around ten minutes to find what you needed before Regina would discover you. Thankfully, without the use of magic, she’d have to drive over to the vault, giving you enough time to try and locate either a memory potion or the ingredients needed for one, though the latter required the fine skills of your long-term memory, which you were still trying to grasp. 

The vault was fairly organised, it was Regina after all, making it somewhat easy to locate the collection of neatly labeled potions. There had to be at least ten boxes, which meant dilly-dallying wasn’t an option. Immediately you sorted through the boxes, willing your eyes to read faster than they’d ever done so before. 

Six boxes down and five minutes in, door hinges creaked and bounced off the walls until they traveled down to the vault. She was early. There was only one exit, and that was the one Regina was coming through, which made the possibility of escaping this upcoming encounter impossible. 

All that was left to do was watch as Regina slowly became visible from the stairs of the crypt. Feet, legs, torso, then there she was. Her sculpted eyebrows knit together, curiosity becoming clearer and clearer with each step toward you, “What are you doing here?”

Looking her dead in the eyes, you made sure not to cower away from the truth, or from the powerful aura she exuded in anything and everything she did, “I remember. I remember everything. Us.” 

“How?” Behind her stony eyes you caught the flicker of panic, whether it was because she feared the curse over the town had been broken or whether she’d have to face the ramifications of withholding the truth from you, you didn’t know. 

“Emma.” 

“That doesn’t explain how you remember.” She frustratingly pointed out. 

There was undoubtedly some truth to her statement. The single name of her nemesis didn’t exactly provide a detailed outlook on the events that led up to you regaining your memories. Then again, you didn’t want her to know the truth. You also didn’t want to lie. Staying silent it was. 

Her nostrils flared, jaw clenched and eyes scorched. With one step forward and her targets set on you, she pushed for more information she deemed rightfully hers, “How?”

It was on command, with the tone she’d used you were right back in the enchanted Forest, heeding any and every one of her wishes, “Emma kissed me.” You blurted out.

“What?” Her eyes widened. 

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You sighed, dropping to sit on a closed trunk. 

“That means...” Regina whispered, “She’s your…”

“She’s the savior, that’s all it means.” You snapped. Regret set in the second you saw Regina flinch at your harsh tone, despite it being warranted. In truth, you already wanted out of this situation, but answers wouldn’t be found in running away, they’d only be located in the trenches of one woman’s mind. What was fairly annoying was the woman in question tended to keep such answers hidden behind a makeshift wall of lies and barbed wire, “I answered your question, now answer mine. Why did you take them, my memories?” 

“Judging by the fact you want them gone again, do I need to answer that?” 

Avoiding the question. Not a surprise. 

“I never had a choice in the first place. Do you know what it’s like realising your whole life is a fucking lie? Because I do and I can’t say shit to anyone without risking getting thrown into the psych ward. You took them from me, Regina. I should be given the option to keep them or get rid of them. So yes, I want to know what led you to believe you had any right to take what was rightfully mine.”

Quiet. The vault echoed the sounds of your heavy breathing as Regina began to search her mind for answers to questions she never thought she’d have to face. Her facade began to crumble before your very eyes, shoulders slumped, her face softened and her tear-filled eyes helplessly sought out comfort in yours. Humility was fighting to be seen once more, much like it had in the past, in moments where she felt everyone only saw the bad, the evil, in actions that were simply enacted to protect herself. 

“I was scared.” Her voice was small, barely a whisper. 

“Of what?” 

A single tear fell from her eye, working its way down her cheek and salting her plump lips, “That you wouldn’t pick me.” 

There, at that moment, she had shown vulnerability, something so raw and rare for a damaged soul prone to heartache and loss. Exposing herself to the tyranny of lies uncovered, to the pain that accompanies the idea that love may be unrequited, and to the reality that she had in fact stolen the essence of what could have been, meant opening herself up to the possibility she had truly lost you. 

And she had. 

“You took that option away from me when you decided to take my memories.”

If it was possible to hear a heart break, feel the sting of broken fragments shatter beneath your touch, you’d have heard and felt it. A rugged exterior did nothing to lessen the pain befalling every inch of your soul. You’d done it, looking into her tear-stained sullen eyes, you saw, you’d broken her dark heart.

Needing to look anywhere but at Regina, you let your eyes roam around the vault. Glinting in the candlelight was a small bottle, the words on it barely readable, but you saw them well enough to plan your next move. 

Standing up, you moved towards the vials you had previously been sifting through, “I have to forget you. I have to forget who I was, and what I did.” you muttered, back now facing Regina. 

“Feel everything you need to feel, regret, anger, sadness, everything. But not alone, feel it with me,” Regina reached out, wrapping her fingers around your wrist, “I just got you back. I can’t lose you again.” 

As you turned around, you clung tightly to the bottle in your hand. You didn’t stop yourself, nor Regina when her lips found yours. Instead, you let yourself remember, only for mere seconds, what it felt like to have her tongue trace along your bottom lip, how her body felt pressed against your own, what it was to give yourself over wholly and exclusively to one person. 

Yet, it still wasn’t enough. It never would be. Not when you’d known a guilt-free life, not when you’d gone days, months, and years living without the weight of your past mistakes heavy on your conscience. 

“I was never yours to lose,” you whispered against her lips, delivering the final punch.

The bottle cork dropped to the ground. With one step back you brought the vial to your lips, swallowing its contents whole and watching a familiar face - a person you believed to be the embodiment of home - fade once again into nothing more than an acquaintance.

Ignorance truly is bliss.

Tags: @babygirlscout @7thavenger @five-bi-five-mind @mentally-unstable-gay | click here to be added to my tag list

[vibratingskull]

A night with you

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Tag list

ThrawnxF!reader

You’re at the Opera with your suitor when you receive a text from a certain someone later that night...

You hide your mouth behind your hand, letting a single tear stream down your cheek. A silent sob gets caught in your throat and shakes your shoulders.

He takes your hand and intertwines your fingers, squeezing it reassuringly. He turns his gaze on you and flashes you a smile. You smile back, sniffing your sobs away, you nod your head to reassure him.

“Everything alright?” He asks in a tone of confidence.

“Yes! Yes, it's just… It’s beautiful.” You manage to say without your voice cracking completely.

“I knew you would love it.”

You gaze back on the stage where the Opera singers finish their song. It is the last one. It is about the region where your planet is from, about the war, about its conquest by the aliens, a story about courage and treachery, a tragedy. You wipe your tears away and rise from your seat to clap like the rest of the audience. You clap with all your might and shout hourrays and praises. You’re moved beyond tears, you felt it down your bowels. You made a good call to come see this opera with him. He puts your fur coat on your shoulders, squeezing them gently.

“There is supposed to be a soirée after, but I want to steal you away from them.” He chants.

You feel your cheeks heating up, you nod once again and take his gloved hand to exit the Galaxies Opera House. The fresh air hits you and you shiver in your furs, you thank him once again for gifting you such a pricey item, that and the dress and the jewelry…

“Do not worry about it.” He kisses your knuckles. “You wore it perfectly, I could swear it was tailored for you.” Wrapped up in his own black fur he delicately guides you away from the crowd of other rich people to his limousine. "Come. There is a place I want to show you.”

___________________________________

“Don’t walk so fast! I can’t keep up with my heels!” You protest.

“Sorry! I’m just so excited to show you!” He laughs without letting your hand go.

You walk with difficulty between the branches and the thorns, you already find it surprising to find a forest on Coruscant. You knew some parks, but a forest? Never heard of.

You finally arrive and he gestures to you proudly. You are in awe, before you is a clearing of wild flowers with a wonderful lake where the moon reflects its light in delicious reflections. In the middle of the opened nocturnal flowers is a tablecloth with a basket and a candelabra. You can’t contain your laughter.

“You really planned all this?” You ask incredulously.

“Well, you told me you were feeling down lately and I thought it would be a great change of atmosphere after an evening with all those stuck up people.” He says. “I wanted to make a nice gesture.” He approaches you with his beautiful smile, his bun a little unmade.

“Thank you, Governor Satlove.”

“What did I told you before, (y/n)?” He chides you lightly, grazing his finger against your lips “Call me Nather.”

“Alright…” You look down at your feet, suddenly shy, before meeting back his eyes. “Nather.” Your voice got low, like a secret.

He nods approvingly, holding your face in both of his hands, eyes in eyes, he kisses your forehead. He guides you to the basket and takes out two glasses and a bottle of Calamnsi. You both sat down in front of this gorgeous moon.

“Tell me rather, how’s everything going?”

You sigh.

“Oh, it could be better…” You clink your glasses and take a sip. “I’m drowning with work and the little time I have for me I dedicate it to you.” You confess.

He raises his glass.

“And I am honored.”

You smile, playing with the trim of your dress.

“It’s been a while since I got to see my different friends and my family, and I think it started to down on me.” You sigh."That, and these pirates we can't get our grips on…Are you sure none of the ships coming from and around your planet were never attacked ?" You inquire

He takes a sip, fixated on your eyes.

"I've never heard of it in any reports, nor have we received any call for help by any helpless ship." He responds.

You lower your head, a bit discouraged. You'd hoped he would have more information on his hand. It's been years now that this group of pirates is wandering the universe freely and the Captain Marttilf is really displeased by it. The only constant you picked on is that they will appear near Nather's planet, Tirahnn, at random and unpredictable times and disappear just as quickly. For you they are clearly doing business with the local underworld and you wanna know what deals it is about.

"We've augmented the patrol on our own, but we can't do much more for the time being, I'm afraid…" He takes your hand with "sorry" spelled in his eyes. “Tell me if I can do anything else to help you. I only need to pass a phone call…”

You shake your head, you’re grateful for his eagerness to help but you can’t really do anything for now. It is useless to place a ship in ambush for a target that might come in several months or a year.

"We will get them." You look in his gray eyes with resolution. "In one way or another… We will get them."

He looks at you in silence, like he is in his thoughts, but raises his glass once again.

"Then we will drink to your success! And your long awaited promotion." You smile at the prospect. You figure Marttilf would get most of the glory, but the idea is nice. "I can do something about that, you know? I can pull the right strings to speed up the process, no problem."

"No!" Your sudden firm tone surprises him and he gets back a little. You smile and sweeten your voice. "No. If I have to advance in this career, I want to advance by merits alone."

He shake his head.

"You're an idealist, (y/n). You cannot advance by merits alone. It is the slowest and least effective way."

You know he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it, not yet at least. You’ve raised one rank and are now a junior lieutenant, so really low in the chain of command and you know your next promotion will come in years. You will need patience and abnegation.

"I know, but I would rather prevent politics from intervening in my career as much as possible."

"Politics already mingles in your career, whether you like it or not. You should take full advantage of any ressources you have, as soon as possible." He puts his head on his fist, laying lazily on his side.

"So you are a resource now?" You ask laughingly.

"I can be so much more." He says, eyes fixed on your lips, caressing your hand with the tip of his fingers.

"What can you be, then?" You bend over, getting closer.

"Anything you might desire…"

You're close, you feel his breath on your parted lips and his heat emanating from his body. You shiver in anticipation. His eyes travel between your lips and your eyes. His hand comes caressing your cheek, sliding lightly to your chin to bring you closer.

The kiss is tender, slow. It sends shivers down your spine. It’s the first one. You savor it, like a rare delicacy with your eyes closed. Your hand gets in his bun, that you undo to let his long hair fall free and hold the back of his head, his hand slides back on your cheek, his thumb caressing it with gentleness.

You part with regrets, forehead against forehead. You're breathless and panting, your shoulders raise as you breathe air.

"Was it really reasonable ?" You ask with swollen lips, under your breath.

He laughs a cristalyne laugh with gleaming eyes.

"Is anything fun ever reasonable?"

You sigh, putting your head on his shoulder.

"Maybe you're right…"

His hand comes grazing your temples. Away, a firework is lit. You observe the colorful wonders in silence, well wrapped in your furs between the fluorescent open flowers. Your mind is racing but calm and organized at the same time. You bury your head in his neck, enveloping yourself in his scent, you sigh, content.

___________________________________________________________

You climb up the stairs to your apartment with your heels in your hand. Nather drived you back, his limousine really out of place in this rather modest neighborhood, you would have come back in a cab but you didn’t feel like leaving him yet, so you hugged on the bench seat on your way back. The cold cement against the plant of your feet keeps you awake.

Finally you reach your floor, your door slides and you're home. You lean against the door, touching your lips, remembering the feeling of his mouth against yours. You smile to yourself, moistening your lips. Your face heats up with the memory of this moment.

You walk toward your room with an idiotic smile, putting down the fur coat delicately in your closet, putting your pajamas on and removing the different pieces of jewelry. You slump on your bed with a satisfied sigh, you take your comlink to check your messages, you got several: some of your family members asking you to finally come see them, some of your friends proposing you a drink after all this time. You check your agenda and your orders and answer them no with a pinch of the heart. Captain Marttilf is demanding you to shorten your leave to come back at soon as possible on the Zéphyr. You pout. You had little time to yourself and now you had even less. You scroll down the rest of the messages until you come across a name you haven't seen in years. Thrawn.

You stare his name in silence for a minute, unsure of what to do. You click on it to see the message with a beating heart..

"Good day junior lieutenant (y/l/n), I require your services."

Good day? Good day?! After 3 years, that's how he greets a friend? Granted, you didn’t have much contact during these 3 years but your friendship didn’t wither that much, right? Your finger holds its place over the screen as you think about those shared moments that keep getting more and more rare until they disappeared completely, to those messages that keep getting more sparse… Maybe what you had wasn’t as strong as you first thought.

You hold your comm unit and stare at it for a while, not knowing how to carry the conversation, you start taping a friendly reprimand, a frustrated opener, the joyful salutations. You erase them all, opting for a more cordial and professional tone.

“Good day to you too, Lieutenant Thrawn. How may I assist you?”

You reread your message several times and send it. You put your comlink on your heart, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You realize your fling didn’t disappear over time like you hoped. Just having his name resonate inside your head sent your heart racing. You gulp in discomfort, you now doubt to be able to get over it. His face draws itself under your eyes on your ceiling, floating in the dark with the memory of his voice coming back like an old melody. You close your eyes to chase it from your mind but his image persists behind your lids.

A buzz sound pulls you off your thoughts. He responded despite the late hour.

“I must inform you I am no longer a lieutenant, I recently ascended to the rank of captain. I need to use your connection to the underworld.”

You blink.

He’s captain? Already? But it takes a decade to be promoted to this rank! You whistle, whatever he’s chasing, he has his eyes on the prize. You who felt proud about your promotion will seriously need to review your objectives upwards. You’re getting outrun, and by far.

Now to the less pleasant part of the discussion, he wants you to get in contact with the underworld? But your parents cut ties with that part of your family years ago and you’re not sure you want to get back to that. You barely know them anyway.

“My congratulations. It will depend on my abilities, why do you need to enter the crime world?”

You don’t have to wait long for the answer.

“Thank you. I need intel on the black metals market and information around a name I suspect to be highly influential in the milieu.”

What is he on about? Does he dream of himself as a blacksmith?

“Find everything you can about an individual that names himself Nightsawn. Union, lobby, mafia, search every environment susceptible to birth protest and rebellion. You must also find details around the mining guild.”

You stare at the screen, concerned. It’s a true investigation he asks of you. You can’t possibly just pop up at the door of your former family with a smile and such a mission… On the other hand, getting closer to your family and their network could help you with your situation with those pirates…

It could work. You will just need to be convincing.

Really convincing.

“I will see what I can do. I will keep you informed.”

“Thank you.”

You scroll back and reread the conversation. The tone is cordial and professional but desperately impersonal and cold. You sigh discouraged, it’s your first contact after several years and it didn’t go as well as all your planned scenarios. You didn’t expect hugging and kissing but still something warmer than this arid conversation.

You stare in the void, screen in front of your face, burning your eyes. It vibrates once again in your hand.

It’s Nather.

“Good evening my pearl. Prepare a proper suit, I will bring you to a nice place next time. In hope it cures you from your loneliness.”

Strangely, you only feel a black void at this news.

It should brighten your mood and bring a smile to your lips, but at this moment you can’t be helped. It only sharpens the dark needles in your heart.

You go to your contact and modify Thrawn’s profile to a more professional and stern “Captain Thrawn”.

That’s all you’re gonna be able to call him from now on, anyway.

You put down your comlink and bury yourself under the cover with your eyes shut close.

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar

[my1oves]

Otta is such a sweetheart that you’d forget she’s a criminal (idgaf I can be her partner in crime 😩). Imagine dancing in the forest, underneath the moon light, fireflies around you. Otta casts a water walking spell on both of you so you’re dancing on top of water. It’s so romantic and so magical to be surrounded by nature- to be with her. She looks at you so lovingly and you don’t miss the way the moon light shines on her beautiful, flushed face. Happy lesbian visibility week hehe <3

Anyways, yay I’m glad your semester is almost over! Thankfully mine ended last week. I’m rooting for you Mimi, you got this 😽✨

what is she even in for? stealing my heart???

Oh my gosh, a dance at midnight under the moon with Otta!! You are a genius dear! Otta loves doing anything she knows will put a smile on your face, and as a true romantic, she'll pull you aside and slow dance with you, guiding you towards the nearby lake and casting water walk. it's such a beautiful moment, with her humming a tune that is rather harmonious with the crickets and frogs. "I wish I could spend forever dancing with you," she'll say, a little breathless from dancing, the both of you now just simply swaying back and forth on the lake. Her rosy cheeks under the moonlight, her fingers tickling your neck as she raises it to cup your cheek. Her eyes soft and yearning. She'll give you such a sweet kiss, resting her forehead against yours and continuing the calm swaying. Sadly you two will have to head back to camp before anyone (pattadol) notices you're missing, but not without another tune hummed by Otta- one that makes you laugh because it's from a silly children's song and slow dancing to it is quite humorous. She loves your laugh- and it's totally worth getting in trouble for.

speaking of trouble imagine otta coming home w your favorite flowers and your favorite treat after an argument she's like 'i'm so sorry babe i was wrong pls don't leave me' ajfhakcna uGH HER

happy lesbian visibility week indeed! lesbians i love u sm

also !! thank you, i will stay strong! i hope your last week wasn't too stressful and that you're taking any rest you need!

[skzfairyy]

District 9: Chapter 10

Mafia!AU || skz x OC’s || PG-17 ||

Pairings: Bangchan x oc, Minsung x oc, other pairings to come!

Genre: Angst, Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Humor, AU (& so much more lol)

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, weapons, language

Status: Ongoing

Wc: 1.8k words

AN: OKAY, so this chapter is way overdue... like severely lmao. Long story short, I had 3 allergic reactions back to back which took me out for a minute. I’m so sorry guys! (no more random teas for me lol) anyways, here is chapter 10, hope you enjoy! - Y2

The sun sets as they move silently together. By now the academy knows that the girls have defected. Something that was inevitable, they just didn’t know how soon it would be. They’ve made good timing and should make it to China around noon tomorrow. As long as they make it through the night, they should arrive at the coast without a problem. As they move through the trees, using only the light of the moon to guide them, Yura pauses.

She holds her breath, eyes shifting around instantly, all of her senses are on high alert as she scans the dark area in front of them. Rina’s eyes move towards her partner’s, their bodies move together like a well oiled machine, both of them working and training together for years means they can read each other’s body language swiftly without saying a single word. 

The girls jump up together, clutching onto a branch of neighboring trees and swinging their bodies upwards. Both make the climb up as quietly as possible while keeping an eye out for the threat below them. Rina removes her favorite suppressed Beretta from a hidden pocket in her bag while Yura’s hand is clutching one of her daggers as they make their way up through the branches. Even with the slight breeze in the air, they’ve managed to hide themselves completely when they finally see movement. Two figures creep through the trees underneath them, dressed in all black bodysuits they each hold their own guns. Their footsteps are deliberate and light when Rina glances at the weapons in their hands, noticing a familiar gold emblem on the side of the pistol. 

Academy issued. 

Mentally the Choi girl releases a sigh of relief, she’d expected the academy to send more agents, especially since they were supposed to be the face of the school. This was a fight she knew they could get out of in a matter of minutes, 30 minutes tops if she had to count. 

Yura’s eyes trace over the figures of the two bodies below. One’s hair is a short black bob at the neck and the other’s is secured in a high ponytail down her back. Covering their faces are the Academy’s uniform masks, watching the way they glided along the forest floor, she knew exactly who stood below them. After the realization, her eyes move to lock in with her sisters. 

Yura silently catches her sister’s attention and tilts her head in the direction of the pair tracking them below. Following Yura’s direction, Rina’s eyes fall to where they stand beneath them. Realizing who it is in an instant, she confirms with a nod of her head before moving her focus back to the ground.

With this new information, the gears in her head began to shift. Rina knew now it was about a 70/30 chance that they would get out of the woods alive. The twins might be the top two in the school, but the two trailing them now were numbers 3 and 4. Because of their close ranks, the girls have spent a lot of time together. They experienced amazing victories and harsh punishments together in their time at the Academy, forming a close bond through the years. With the school knowing this information, Rina knew this was  Headmaster Chaerin’s way of extending an olive branch before they decided to bring out more lethal methods. Her mind races with different ways to approach this without causing harm to her colleagues, her friends, and though she’d like this to proceed without any bloodshed, she cannot guarantee that outcome confidently.

Knowing not to move without Rina’s signal, Yura watches her sister's face through the leaves. Another familiar look etched on her face with the slightest raise of her brow. Looking, seeing, analyzing. Completely aware of her surroundings, every tree, every bush, her partner across from her, and the blade in her hand with the intention to drive it into any (and every) threat; aware of both girls approaching below them on foot, their training, their orders, every move they make, and every breath they take.

This is Athena.

Yura smirks to herself, always in awe at how fast her sister can come up with a flawless strategy at a moment's notice.  

After her glazed eyes retained focus, she looks over and sees Yura already waiting for instruction. She points to the ground, indicating for Yura to go down first, and with a quick twist of her wrist signaling the direction for their course of attack, Yura nods her head with a slight smile, immediately understanding the plan.

Jihyo and Ryujin stop underneath them before talking to each other quietly, the short-haired girl crouches down, examining the spot where Rina stood just a few minutes ago, probably trying to figure out where their tracks stopped. The twins did their best to be careful, but they knew it was only a matter of time before the Academy caught up. The school not only trained the best assassins in Korea, but they ranked number one across the globe. The agents below them were trained to be just as skillful and dangerous as they are, Not to mention Jihyo herself was ranked the Academy’s most skilled tracker for the last three years.

 Yura leaps from the tree, though it's a bit far off the ground she lands silently behind them. All it takes is two quick steps and she has Jihyo pinned with her knife at the girl's throat. Ryujin turns quickly at the sound of her partner struggling, making eye contact with her old classmate, seeing the cold glint in Yura’s eyes, Ryujin knew she was dealing with Ares.

     “Surprised you were able to catch up to us this fast.” Yura says calmly.

Jihyo’s hand struggles to remove Yura’s from her throat, but ceases immediately when she feels the blade pressing further against her skin. All the shared memories of jokes and compassion for one another are gone from the eyes of 2ne1’s notorious silent killer. Although Ryujin’s gun is aimed at her she pays it no mind. Already knowing that her sister is in the trees above, alert and ready with a clear shot aimed at the girl's head.

 And Athena never misses a shot.

The moonlight glints against the tennis bracelet on Yura’s wrist, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jihyo.

     “Was all it took for you to defect, some cheap bribes?” Her voice is tight through her mask.

Yura’s emotionless face is silent. Her contradicting emotions battle inside her head as her eyes never leave Ryujin’s face across from her. 

     “They sent you. Why?” Her words come out more as a statement as she proceeds with Rina’s plan. 

     “You can’t defect!” Jihyo struggles to say. 

     “What are you, my mother?” Yura scoffs.

     “The academy needs you and you know it!” She continues. 

Yura’s irritated eyes travel to the choking girl in her arms. 

     “What the academy needs is their killing machines, and I’m no longer a part of it. Sending you two to retrieve us was a low blow even for them.” 

     “We volunteered.” Ryunjin removes her mask and makes a step towards the girl she once called a friend, her gun in hand slowly moving downwards.

      “What?” Yura’s eyes snap up to Ryujin’s.

Rina, who was slowly shifting down branch by branch, paused at the girl’s words. She watched Ryujin’s gun lower, but didn’t fail to notice as her other hand grazed her side, retrieving the blade attached to her thigh. The four may be close, but at the end of the day their partner’s lives will always come first. Rina knew this better than anyone, especially with Ares present. Despite Yura doing her best to hold herself back for the sake of her friends, the eldest Choi knew she had to act quickly.

Jihyo takes Yura’s shock tone as an opening and attempts to flip her attacker, but instead is greeted with a tighter grip, causing a bit of blood to run down her neck. Ryujin hears the slight struggle and throws the blade in her hand. 

A bullet is fired out from behind Ryujin at the same time, knocking the blade to the ground before it could land its intended target.

     “Shouldn’t have done that Ry.” 

A voice from behind her says quietly, Rina finally makes her appearance from the tree’s shadows, walking up silently and placing the barrel of her own gun flush to the back of the girl's head.

     “And you know I never miss my target.” Rina whispers against her ear.

After the initial scare, Ryujin holds her hands up in defeat. Allowing Yura to finally release her captive. Jihyo coughs while clutching her wounded neck while moving to stand next to Ryujin, finally removing her own face mask.

Rina removes her own weapon from Ryujin and stands with Yura. The four girls stand across from each other for a moment fully taking in their situation. The twins have known the girls in front of them long enough to know how emotional they could get in sticky situations like this one. Despite the injury, Jihyo’s tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her friends.

     “You’re leaving us!” Jihyo cracks out into the silence. 

Ryujin continues although her voice holds a slight tremble as she speaks.

     “We volunteered to retrieve you ourselves, leaving our earpieces somewhere in the stream we stumbled upon a while ago.” She starts, “You’re our seniors, our closest friends- you can’t leave us in that hell alone. We signed the oath together…and y-... and you didn’t even say goodbye. ” She finishes with her own tears beginning to creep in her eyes. 

The twins’ gaze drifts to each other briefly, Yura does nothing but shrug, crossing her arms in silence.

     “You don’t even care.” Jihyo is quick to assess Yura’s stance, a scoff coming out of her mouth at the sight.

     “Of course, we care, Jihyo.” Rina is quick to rebuttal.

     “We’re just not going back.” Yura says matter of factly. 

Her eyes glanced over them, but her face held no emotion. 

     “We’ve done terrible things, things that have to be righted.” 

Rina nods her head in agreement.

     “But that doesn’t mean we can’t come back for you.”

The girls in front of them are confused.

     “We can’t tell you when because honestly, we don’t know ourselves. What we do know is that if you cover for us, we'll come back for you.” Yura states, her pinky held out in front of them. 

An old gesture that has followed the four classmates from childhood. Ryujin is quick to take it, locking her finger tightly as they press their thumbs together. Jihyo and Rina stand the same. This was another difficult goodbye for the Choi girls, they all had shared a million memories together, both new experiences and hellish nightmares from the Academy that will live with them for the rest of their lives. In the end, Ryujin and Jihyo understood what their friends were doing, something they too thought about on occasion, but never had the strength to act on it themselves. With this promise, they’ll finally be able to.

     “We’ll buy you time.” Jihyo states, “You must hurry. Go!” 

The twins nod, looking their two friends over one last time before taking off further into the woods towards the coast. 

taglist: @toalltheunknown, @skzloveforever, @ryak14

Y2K masterlist || series masterlist || last || next

[small-sinclair]

Forgiveness is the Hardest Part

This is a warm up for another writing prompt.

Another idea based off this post by @sketchy-rosewitch. I thought about it and went through it over the phone with my sister (she doesn't know what HoW is, but she likes that I'm finally writing again :3). Anyways, enjoy this angsty one.

Maybe there's a part 2 or something? Let me know!

Bo x male!Oc (Anthony)

Tw: mentions of deaths and murders, character injury, gun, near death oc, religious themes mention, blood, mention of past tortures/abuse, hints of homophobia, not proofread

The soft pinks that light the dusk sky lowered to a deep purple, fading into the night's heat in Louisiana. The clouds from the day left to give onlookers a clear night's view, and the full moon shined its light below to guide a path through the dense forest road leading back to Ambrose. Lester's truck jumped back and forth as he drove with the passenger next to him, who was clenching a small black backpack.

His white collar under the black folds of his shirt shined like a stars in the sky that night. His dark brown hair was tucked under a Green Bay Packer's ball cap, worn from work and faded by the sun. His heavy green eyes were tired from tonight's events that left him at the mercy of a stranger, and his head pounded as if he was by the loudest speaker. His left leg broken and bruised, but he didn't seem to wince at his pains as he held his mother's rosary between his fingers. He was the youngest clergy server in his group strong and built well enough to lift two spare tires with ease, and he's the only one that was... tainted. Maybe that's the men did all those things? Tortured him by burning his arms and back, cutting too deep into his legs until he couldn't walk, kept punching him until stars was seen in the sunlight.

His God suffered, so he has too as well. That's how sinners are forgiven--that have to suffer to find the light once more before relaxing in the waters in the spring.

"'Bout there," Lester reassured again. "Bo'll fix ya righ' up, Father."

"Please, Lester," the pastor looked over at Lester, trying to meet his brown eyes, "call me Anthony. Ain't a Father yet."

Lester tapped nervously at the wheel as they came closer to the town's lights and the soft music from the speakers above the streetlamps. He didn't feel comfortable bringing a man of faith to this place to die. Talk about leading the lamb to the slaughter, huh? Still, Lester forced a caring smile. "'S a nice name, Anthony."

Anthony leaned his head against the glass, silently sending a prayer of blessings for Lester and his kindness. If he didn't show up when he did to haul off the roadkill deer, Anthony might've been through worse. He closed his eyes, praying Lester would have carefree days with ease and to have thanks for his service of deposing God's creatures. He rested his hand on the seat, praying over his truck for safe travels and for it to take Lester miles away from here.

When he was finished, he felt the truck die and Lester getting out. Anthony opened the door and helped himself out, Lester joining his side to help support him to get inside the little gas station. The gas station looked like it was stuck in time as if it was still the 1950s, but he loved it! He loved the orange and blue lights and the little "Gas" sign over the pumps; he felt like he stepped into a slice of heaven. Inside the station, it smelled like rust and oil, a smell he knew all too well from his childhood thorough working in his dad's shop.

He groaned as Lester sat him down in the black chair by the door, and Lester hurried around the counter. "Le' me go see if he's still 're."

"Take your time," Anthony said through a painful smile, trying to stay as polite as he could. "I got all night."

Lester gave one last look behind him before going into the back. Of course, Bo would be down stairs in his... what the hell should Lester call it? Sex dungeon? Prison? Chamber of Torture and Pleasure? All he knows is he hates going down there to see if Bo is there with a "pretty little thing". He knocked on the closed door before entering, almost regretting his choice. He turned his head away at the smell of fresh blood and Bo's spice, but he was glad to see no dead girl strapped to the chair like the last time.

Bo was at the chair, cleaning it with bleach and vinegar. He looked up at Lester and raised a brow. "The hell's matter with ya?" He snapped, throwing the rag down. "You know betta than ta be down here!"

Lester flinched at his voice. "Bo, we have another one--"

"Good," Bo said, wiping his hands on his blue jeans. "Still in the mood fer some killin'."

"Not this one."

Oh... this is new.

Bo stepped over his cleaning supplies and towered over Lester. "The hell do ya mean?" He tilted his head as his eyes stated dangerously calm.

"There's a hurt pastor upstairs," Lester stated. "And I don't want ya to kill 'im."

Bo's hands gripped Lester's faded red jacket as he shoved his brother against the wall. "Tellin' me wha' to do? Because the last I checked, ya don't kill people, yellow belly."

Lester's face harden but his eyes fell. He knew he couldn't stop a storm or a tornado, but he was hoping to to tray and calm this one. "Fine," his voice was low and sad, "but make it quick? Don't want 'im to suffer more than he 'lready has."

Before Bo could ask what he meant, the sound of tires pulling overhead outside made them look up through the drain above. They stayed silent as they heard car doors slam, men laughing and howling when they see something--or someone-- they've been hunting. Lester's hands pushed his brother back and led the way upstairs, Bo, who was still confused as all hell, went up after him.

Pastors don't fight, unless you're Father Quintin, who kicked Bo's ass when he was caught stealing from the alter plate when he was a teenager. So, why did it shock him to see two men drawing a man with a broken black collar towards the street? Why did his stomach hurt when he heard one of the four men hitting the other's eye, bruising it raw until blood flowed from the brow? Why did his eye twitch in anger when one pulled a knife to stab the other? Why did it feel so right to run back into the garage and take the shotgun off the wall, taking off the safety, and rushing out to join his brother--

Anger boiled heat as his blood ran cold when he saw Lester on the gravel. Blood trickled down his forehead as a one of them men stood over him with a blooded, hardback Bible in hand. Lester lifted his head to meet Bo's bright blues before his head laid down, his body doing limp in a snap...

Then there was a flash to something from before. The sight of the bloodied Bible corner and his little brother on the ground took him back to the time when his father was drunk, and he tried to "beat the devil" out of his little brother. He felt like he was reliving a frozen moment in his life, but the only difference between that helpless boy and now was that Bo has a fully loaded shotgun.

"Hey!" Bo's voice was hard as he got the man's attention. Without warning, he shout the Father between the eyes. God, that felt good.

The gunshot rung throughout the silent town, making three men look towards Bo and their fallen friend. Bo grinned wickedly as he pumped the shotgun back in action, pointing it at the man who was hitting the other. Forgiveness won't come easily after this, Bo knows this, but he was far from holy light. He was bathed in the muddy waters of the swampland and blessed by led and iron.

In a hurry, they dropped their "friend" and ran off in different directions. Bo raised his gun and shot the back of one and missed the other two, but they'll do. They were heading right towards Vincent's hellscape. He hoped that it was hell on earth for the holiest of folks.

Bo unloaded the gun as he walked over to the bleeding pastor.

He was clinching his rosary tightly as Bo's shadow crossed over him like an angel's shadow over a fallen devil. The click of his gun made the stabbed pastor jolt and he lifted his head, but Bo didn't find his eyes to be fearful or horrified of him. Bo's stomach emptied as he watched the man struggle to his knees, black shirt ripped at the sleeves, and he sat on the back of his legs. Glazed eyes looked up at him, right at him, as a river of blood flowed from his lips and nose. The white under his black collar stained from dirt and bloodshed by his own brother, and it made his chest swell in hurt and butterflies.

He looked like Saint Sebastian. the one with arrows littering his body but still alive.

"You... you Bo?" The man breathed out, tired and hurt. "'M Anthony." Why did the lights hurt his eyes? Where was the fog coming from? "Les-Lester talked of... of you?" Anthony's eyes rolled back as his body fell to the side. He readied himself to hit his head, but rough, callous hands caught him, and he was rested against the warmth of someone's thigh.

His eyes parted to see the most beautiful angel in blue mechanic uniform and curly brown hair under a "Sweetbird '69" trucker's hat. But those blue eyes... goodness, grace him with the ocean and he would turn away just to see those instead. He could've sworn he saw the River of Jordan reflecting in Bo's eyes, forever locked and still in rage and sadness. How many sins does Bo feel on a daily? How many times did he fall to his knees for forgiveness at night? Anthony wanted to hear every hymn pour from his lips and answer any prayer he had. But why is God showing him his best angel at his last moments on earth? Why now?

"Hang in there, Father," Bo said, his hand over the stab wound. "I'll get you help."

"Bo," Anthony repeated, a small smile curling on his lips. Everything was feeling darker than before. It was getting harder to stay awake as his head pounded. His chest raised and fell, feeling skin from the wound rip slowly. He heard the echoes of screams and painful cries from a darken wax house, but his eyes drifted to the clear skies above. So many stars painted on a black canvas tonight. What a blessing it is to share it with him. "Bo," he whispers, saying his name as if it's the most holiest thing on his tongue; as if it was the beautiful name he's ever heard. He had to say it one more time, just once more. Let him call his angel by his name one more time, dear Lord. "Bo..."

The moon reflected off his eyes, showing the stars above back in Bo's. Bo swallowed dryly as he held the Father closer in his arms. His listened to his dragged breaths and drawn-out sighs. Bo closed his eyes as the warmth of the blood flowed through his closed fingers, falling like a river on the street below. He felt like Mary holding her son for the last time, and it wasn't a feeling he wanted to have. It's like he was born to hold dying faiths and believers. Inside his arms, he was the keeper of death and final wishes for the dead, and deaths like these made his heart break.

Lester hated seeing people die, and now he knows why. He knows why he doesn't kill a human or want to be around when their last breaths caved out of collapsing chests and lungs.

Wheezing, Anthony tugged Bo on his button shirt. Glazed eyes looked upon him as if he was more than a killer, more than human and flesh mixed together. His lips moved, but no noise escaped. He tried again, wanting to forgive Bo for his sins, but his words were choked and hard to force out--

"It alright, Father," Bo reassured, a sad smile formed over his lips. "You c'n res' now. I'll take 'i from 're."

The full moon casts her light through twisted trees and branches from behind. Anthony squinted his eyes and gasped softly. The angel in the mechanic suit looks as if he was a fallen angel crawling back from hell after being rejected from the Lord, and it broke his heart more. His lips a soft pink and smooth to look at; skin warm and rough from hard work. Shining blue eyes filled with regret, and Bo's heart started aching just to see the fading air that escaped Anthony's lips. Maybe in a different life he and Bo would be happy? Maybe he would've came sooner and found safety in Bo's arms and gaze? Anyone would be lucky--

Bo clicked his tongue as he stood up, carrying the father in his arms as if he was a child. "No, Father," Bo said in a hushed voice. The warm southern wind wrapped around him, the leaves in the breeze sounding like wings wrapping around a strangling snake. How pathetic he must look to the ravens above and the stars that cross the careless sky. "Yer not dyin' 're." He shook his head as he heard Lester stir in the gravel. "Not in this hell."

Anthony wanted to know more, but his eyes rolled. the last thing he saw was the fading, wicked horns that the branches casts along Bo's skin.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 3: A Time of Trial

Narrated by Hephaes.

Narrator: There was a hazy drizzle in the air. A raindrop fell from the branches of the Tree of Life and landed on my cheek.

Narrator: I looked up and saw Arionus hidden in the canopy gazing into the distance.

Hephaes: I figured you would be here, Arionus.

Narrator: A few fire butterflies flapped their wings and flew off from my fingertips. They passed through the mist wreathing the branches and perked on Their long dewy hair.

Narrator: Arionus parted the branches and leaves, looked down at me, and, as if reading my mind, nudged to the side to make room for me.

Narrator: We watched together as the Rock Elf walked loudly into the holy light at the tree root, a sacred weapon in hand, ready to fulfill Their duty as a guardian.

Narrator: Arionus was forbidden by other elves to enter the Source Spring, but I knew Arionus also wanted to be recognized as a guardian of the Tree of Life.

Narrator: And maybe that would happen if Arionus could forge the Holy Instrument and pass the trial.

Narrator: That day when I bent down to scoop up a handful of spring water, an idea came to me.

Narrator: Perhaps instead of a sharp weapon, I needed a powerful container that can inherit the guardian's power.

Narrator: Like a Holy Grail. When it lights up with fire, it will be like an ever-burning torch that can dispel the thickest darkness.

Narrator: The Holy Instrument that only Hephaes can forge! The thought of surprising Arionus with that idea made the flame above my head leap in excitement.

Narrator: Arionus may have been acting nonchalant about this, but the dwarves told me they received the Holy Grail's schematic from Arionus months ago.

Hephaes: Thinking about the trial, huh?

Arionus: Yeah, just like you.

Narrator: Just like me? Arionus always knew what was going on in my mind.

Narrator: Arionus waved a hand to clear the rain and fog, and the rolling red mountains became clear at the other side of the mountain.

Arionus: Don't worry, I know you can do it.

Hephaes: And I know you will pass the trial, too! I will keep you company until you do.

Narrator: Arionus relaxed Their brows and gave me a soft smile.

Narrator: Several fire butterflies flew off from our shoulders, leaving a watery trail in the rain-washed air that sparkled in the sun.

Narrator: Raindrops fell from their wings, giving off a dreamy colorful glow. Golden butterflies swirled around Arionus to perform a small blessing ceremony.

Arionus: Thank you, Hephaes.

Hephaes: Well then... come with me to the Magma Mine! I want to check how the Holy Instrument is coming along!

Arionus: Okay.

Narrator: Finally, it was the day of the trial. Arionus and I came to the Holy Instrument furnace in the Magma Mine.

Narrator: The dwarves placed the stone box containing the Holy Instrument before the furnace, bowed, and stepped away.

Narrator: The stone box was opened to reveal the completed flaming Holy Grail and New Moon Scepter.

Narrator: The precious crystals combined with the dwarves' craftsmanship mean these Holy Instruments could hold immense elven power.

Narrator: I took the initiative to step forward, closed my eyes, and let my heart guide the source of my belief.

Narrator: The golden butterflies I created, the forest beings pestering me to see flame magic, the elves chanting hymns, the Tree of Life basking in the sun...

Narrator: And Arionus, too, who was standing across from me. We promised each other we would both become the guardians of the holy tree.

Narrator: A warm radiance gathered on my chest. The golden-red flames resonated with the lava, casting a dazzling glow on the Holy Grail.

Narrator: Like the rising sun, the eternal fire emerged in the Holy Grail.

Hephaes: I did it!

Narrator: I opened my eyes and met Arionus' pleased gaze. Arionus nodded at me and took a step forward.

Narrator: Arionus raised Their staff to inject the power of the Water Elf into the moon at the tip of the staff that materialized into a blue crystal orb.

Narrator: Suddenly, the water that made up the crystal orb began to twist and warp, and the air around it instantly cooled.

Narrator: A black shadow split the water orb in two, leaping out like a moth and lunging at Arionus.

Hephaes: Arionus!

Narrator: I grabbed the Holy Grail without hesitation. A blazing flame shot out and instantly burned the ghostly black shadow to a crisp, accompanied by a shriek.

Narrator: The black vortex kicked up white smoke, roaring and screaming but unable to escape.

Narrator: The dark mist wrapped around the staff had been cut off from its source and perished, too.

Narrator: Arionus seized the moment to conjure a clear stream of water that quickly climbed up the staff. When the water faded, a bright moon broke through the clouds.

Narrator: A deafening thunderclap erupted from the ground. Silver raindrops danced excitedly in the air, as if cheering for something.

Narrator: They combined to play an epic ode to the God of Water that echoed throughout the valley.

Narrator: Sunlight mixed with a drizzle. We were on our way back to the Tree of Life.

Hephaes: Fantastic, Arionus! We passed the trial! You're the best of us. The other elves' Holy Instruments are nowhere near as powerful as your scepter!

Arionus: Are you not afraid... that I might use it to hurt you?

Narrator: The only reason Arionus had been enduring the unimaginable pain alone was that Arionus didn't want to hurt others. So why would Arionus hurt friends?

Hephaes: Why would you hurt me? We're best friends.

Narrator: Arionus raised the silent eyes that rippled like a clear spring, and then made a sincere promise.

Arionus: Yes. Even if I have the most powerful weapon in the world, I will never hurt you.

Hephaes: I will never hurt you either, Arionus. The fire in my Holy Grail will only be used to illuminate the way forward for others.

Narrator: The words of our promises echoed throughout the valley, and the shadows of us standing next to each other merged into the sunset glow.

Narrator: Finally, we passed the test and became real gods.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[maryannecrimsworth]

Deal

Guide for tormented hearts

Pairing: Enid Sinclair x OC! Hank Hunter(L/N)

Summary: Enid can't wolf out. She managed to hide it from Wednesday and her parents in the last two months, but now she's back at the school and every fur is excited to transform together. For the first time in years, Nevermore hired a tamer to train werewolves — no more lupin cages, they'll learn to be free. Every werewolf want to break free in the woods, but not her. Enid wants to run away, until the tamer goes after her.

Warnings: crying; emotional breakdown; werewolves fighting; Wednesday's threats; stabbing

Backstory for the "You do need a friend", Hank is Y/N's older brother.

Scenes from Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 of The Hunt [Ao3]

X

"Would you help me escape? Just for tonight." Enid whispered to Thing, who gesticulated readily in response. He suggested a way that, in addition to getting her out of school, would keep every student away from her.

"I can't! I don't want to lose my fingers for touching her clothes." The werewolf replied. Disguising herself as Wednesday wasn't a good plan, and even if it was, the werewolves of Nevermore would notice Enid's absence.

She needed to wolf out, she needed to meet her pack, she needed to be normal.

Enid threw herself back on her bed and sighed loudly, her conversation with Thing had ended in weariness and disappointment — but it wasn't even able to disturb the girl on the other side of the room.

Wednesday used the space on the side of her desk to hang a kind of mystical periodic table, with anecdotes about its substances and the potions that could be created. All of her attention was focused on the plants, roots and powders which could've composed Thornhill's potions.

Enid turned her look away from Wednesday and grabbed another stuffed bear of hers. She started to scratch it with her claws while her thoughts flew between countless situations: from her pack transforming without her to her mother discovering that she hadn't wolfed out in two months. The last two nights of full moon, spent at the Addams' house, served to remind Enid that she was called a "late bloomer" for a reason. Three stuffed animals had already gone bald when a knock came from the door.

Enid ran to the door and turned on the bedroom light before opening it. Neither she nor Wednesday had noticed the dusk.

"Hi?" She opened the door only enough to show her face. Hunter was waiting for her in the hallway of Ophelia Hall, hands stuck in his pockets and face turned red as if he wasn't allowed to be there.

"Hey." He replied in the same low tone as her. "All Furs have already gone to the woods. Are you coming?"

"I-I…" She checked the empty corridor and closed the door behind her. "I can't wolf out." She lowered her head before saying: "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." His voice made her look up again. "I can help you. I mean, I still have a few hours until the pack's meeting. Would you come with me?"

Enid followed him right away.

The night was cool and windy, the light spring breeze was lifting the leaves and ruffling the branches of the trees around the school. In the distance, you could hear the high, harmonized howls of werewolves. The Nevermore's packs had met and now they ran and fought through the forest. They were all there, with their claws and ears out, and Enid was here: sitting on a fallen log with their new handler in front of her. She felt bad for taking the time of the tamer.

"You know, this won't work. I'll just hide somewhere else and you can go meet them." Enid opened her eyes one more time and interrupted Hunter's speech. Even him looked annoyed by her behavior now.

"Just do what I tell you. If it doesn't work out, I'll take you shopping. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Close your eyes and breathe." He whispered and she obeyed. "Tell me how you first wolfed out. What happened?"

"Wednesday was in danger." Her fists clenched on her knees. "It was a red moon night. Thing came and told me and I just ran." She heard no more howls now. "She was in danger and I…I"

"You were afraid." His voice sounded like a continuity of her thoughts. "You needed to protect her."

"Yes."

"But you're still afraid. You are afraid and Wednesday's safe now."

"I..I…" Hunter didn't rush her. "I fear her. I fear she will figure out I can't— I can't—" Her breathing trembled. "I can't be her friend to death. I can't be what she wants because I'm too much. I'm too much for her. I'm too much for a pack. I'm too much for everyone." The tamer backed up a few steps as she started crying. " I can't be a werewolf. I can't be normal. I can't be as my mother wishes — I will always be alone!" A dozen branches broke together with her last words. Her speech grew and strained until a loud growl snapped out her lungs — she wasn't speaking, but howling.

"Follow my voice, Enid." The werewolf crawled in her four paws, her fangs and hot breath almost hitting Hunter's face. He lifted his hand to the pink fur on her head.

"You are a werewolf. You have a pack now. You are not alone." She grunted and leaned in towards him. "Open your eyes."

Her reaction was as lively and animalistic as possible: she jumped on the man, hitting him with her paws and licking his entire face. The tamer burst out laughing and stroked the werewolf's fur.

"Now go." And Enid followed the howls of the Nevermore’s pack.

The running and playing of the wolves kept half the school awake: every student who had forgotten his noise damper at home now suffered from the lively nature of the packs. Enid howled, fought and ran as much as the other Furs. They all came together and followed the tamer, enjoying his snacks, orders and games. His clothes were already torn and his feet already ached when three wolves stayed behind. Hunter called them, but they kept still.

He soon saw the wooden shed they surrounded.

"Hey!" he shouted as soon as the three started attacking the small construction. "Stop." But the wolves continued scratching and kicking the hut.

Hunter took a whistle from his pocket and blew it: all the canines in the area heard his command, and yet the three werewolves did not stop. Their attacks became more violent as other werewolves approached. He had brought the whistle to his mouth once more when a blow struck his back. The tamer was thrown meters forward, bursting through the doors of the shed and smashing the trestles and paintings inside it.

"ENOUGH!" he shouted, but the wooden boards continued to fall beside him — and, once all construction had been knocked down, the werewolves advanced on him. The only thing that kept Hunter from being bitten and scratched was the pink wolf's attack.

The werewolves rolled over the wreckage of the shed, the three tallest and strongest united against Enid. They roared and attacked her, their fur and ears raised as if the pink werewolf was a terrible threat.

The she-wolf stopped in front of Hunter, ready to stop any attack from reaching him. The werewolves were ready to fight — but a clap broke the sound of loud roars and splintered wood. Suddenly, all the wolves were quietened by the sound of the tamer's hands clapping.

All the furs froze and sat.

“Enid.” He spoke between heavy breaths. “Find it.”

The werewolf started to sniff the ground under Hunter’s feet, tracking down the scent that made her mates violent. The object dug up by the she-wolf was small, fragile and smelly: it caused the werewolves to howl and grunt again, but still sat due to the tamer's command.

It caused Enid to wince, grunt, and return to her human form in loud cries.

It was a teeth necklace.

X

Enid was laid down on her bed carefully and slowly.

Her previous state – scratched and bloodied – was replaced by a clean, disheveled, and tired appearance. She was fine, but she was wearing clothes that did not belong to her and her face was swollen from crying. The only thing that guaranteed her peaceful sleep were the dirt-soaked hands that guided her back to her room. Hunter took to himself whatever panic and nausea Enid had, and laid her down on the bed in her dark room.

He didn't even remember her roommate until his legs failed.

"What have you done?" Wednesday required in a dark voice once he hit the ground. 

"I could ask you the same." He grumbled from the floor, his slurred tone and speech between clenched teeth announced the kind of content he had delivered to her. It was the necklace Thing hid in Xavier’s shed, Wednesday intended to keep it in there until she figured out what was her stalker intentions. "Shit." Hunter grunted in pain.

"How d—"

"It has your Thing's scent on it." Just the remnants of the necklace's smell left on his fingertips was enough to twist his stomach.

"What's happening to you?" 

"I took her malaise." He whispered. "She needs sleep more than me." 

"Leave."

"I can't." He tried to move, but the creaking of the wooden floor created a minefield to Enid's sleep and well-being. "I can't barely see you, just pretend I'm not here." 

Wednesday grabbed his shoulders in a burst, feeling the dirt, blood, and sweat pooling on his clothes and skin. The rips in his coat caused her to touch his wounds unintentionally — and Hank desperately ran away from her hands.

But it was too late: now Wednesday fell beside him and felt all the pain he was bearing.

"Fuck, Addams. Couldn't you have just stood still?" He dragged himself a few inches closer to her, just close enough to hold her hand. The ache and nausea left her body slowly. 

Wednesday jumped away as soon as she regained her strength. "Are you a healer?"

"Sort of." He barely had a voice now. "Where did you get it? "

"It's none of your business." 

"That thing almost got the werewolves to kill each other. It is my business." 

She didn't need to answer him. In fact, Hank, now completely defenseless and weak at her feet, was the perfect suspect for her interrogation.

"I'll ask the questions now." She knelt beside Hunter, her hands and lips purposefully close to his face.

She could hear him swallowing dryly. 

"Speak." He commanded, his voice firm despite all the weakness in his body.

That only made her hate him even more.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the inuit's cursed child." Hunter admitted. "Born from a Kigatilik, I was left in the woods to die."

"And the Hunters have found you."

"Yes." She didn't understand the reason behind the sudden flaw in his voice, like a sob escaping from his heavy chest.

"Why are you truly here?"

“I’ve already told you, I came to—“ His breathing failed once the cold blade touched his neck. 

“The truth.” Wednesday reminded him. Hunter scoffed quietly and lifted his back, the knife being pressed against his skin because of his movement. He supported all his weight on one arm, leaning in forwards Wednesday. 

A drop of blood ran down his neck.

“I came after Hyde.” The knife was forced with more intensity. “ I came to tame him.”

“It can’t be tamed. It’s a beast without conscience.”

“But Tyler can be.” Hunter suddenly took the blade from her hands and sat in front of her. Their knees touched and the closeness allowed them to finally see each other's faces. Wednesday had a serious, determined look - ready to attack him if he became a threat; and Hunter, wounded, dirty and sweaty, had a steady posture, immune to Addams' intimidation. He could have easily stabbed her. “ Where did you find the necklace?”

He handed the knife back to her. 

“Buried in the woods.”

“You shouldn’t have dug up. It’s a beast trap.” Wednesday watched Hunter speaking. “Lead and an adrenaline trigger. It could kill you…and Enid .” Wednesday looked up at her roommate’s bed: she didn’t know how dangerous that scent was to the she-wolf.

“You can keep it in the greenhouse. It won’t affect no one there.” Hunter lowered his face. “I have to stay here until the smell’s gone.”

“Thing.” Wednesday delivered the necklace to him, who didn’t complain. He too wanted to keep Enid safe. The hand left the room and Hunter and Wednesday were now alone.

“I don’t trust you.” She roared.

“You shouldn’t.” He looked up at her again. “But we have a common goal. Don’t you think it is wiser to work together?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Then do it for your friends.” Hunter replied in a sharp voice. “I want to keep them safe as much as you do.”

Wednesday stood up and walked to her bed. The moonlight invading the room illuminated her back and stiff steps. 

"I see you everywhere." She whispered. " It's disturbing."

"Our leads go the same way. " He tried to stand up, but his body was still too heavy. He remained kneeling in the middle of the room. "Let me show you."

She turned her face slightly in his direction. 

"Okay. "

[usernoneexistent]

Happy October! I hope you're doing well <3

Have a trick of your choice 💜

And if you're busy, please take all the time you need!

You too and thanks for the free reign on this one.

Late Night Shenanigans

A/N: Lysander gets a little suspicious during the night of a ‘full moon’ when he notices Colin acting strange and decides to follow him to see if those furry rumours are true. Character mentioned belonging to @slytherindisaster. 

Lysander couldn’t take the rustling sound anymore. Determined to get to the noise source, he finally opens his eyes and takes a peek. He noticed Colin Moss out of bed, taking note of the other boys. He crept out of the door. This is the most suspicious behaviour of the second year that must be investigated, Lysander determined. 

He waited until Colin was out of the line of sight of Lysander and started following the tracks of his fellow dorm resident. His blue hair stood out even in the cover of darkness. His guide was the faint light of Colin’s bandaged wand that flickered. 

The Hufflepuff grew more confused yet couldn’t contain his excitement for where Colin was leading him. Lysander followed him outside to the grounds as the bright white moon shone clearly, illuminating Colin’s blue hair to silver. 

“I knew it!” He muttered as he hid by the door; slowly he crouched his body low.

His cousin, Winona, was right about the mysterious father. She had mentioned that his Grandfather owned a pub where werewolves, vampires, goblins, and even giants would cohort together. The rumour was that his mother got hitched by a werewolf, which was the Moss family’s greatest scandal.

Colin was a werewolf, and that’s why his family was so hushed about his identity. Why else would anyone be sneaking out to the grounds in the middle of the full moon. Lysander had to see this through as this would make the news headline for next week.

“Aaah!” He heard; Lysander saw Colin’s hazel eyes widen in horror. “I-ah…no-oh dear.”

The boy sprinted off as Lysander caught up very quickly, tailing behind. Colin seemed to have the lead by a mere margin, fueled by sheer fright and fear. 

“Leave me alone!” 

“Wait! I’m not going to hurt you!” Lysander yelled back. “I-”

While not watching his footing, he tripped over a stone. He grabbed Colin’s collar as they tumbled down the hill together and rolled towards the edges of the forbidden forest. Lysander scrambled to get up from the ground, the full moon above them. He stood back to keep a safe distance when Colin turned into a werewolf. 

Colin groaned as he stood up but still remained human. 

“Oh…it’s you, Lysander…I, uh…” he stuttered about. His body hunched in.

“No, no don’t you worry. I’ll give you room to transform.” Lysander backed off.

“Transform?”

“Yes, for when to change into a werewolf.” He sounded more uncertain of his statement.

“I-I’m not a werewolf!” Colin huffed. Lysander was shocked that Colin showed some ounce of anger. “Why does everyone keep saying that!”

Lysander may or may not have told some friends about it in passing while gossiping before their friends past the word around Hogwarts, but he had kept that fact to himself. 

“Nobody is saying that about you, Colin,” he ran his hand through his hair nervously. “I just was curious why you were going to the forbidden forest.” 

“Oh, I was just…well, I was just going to check up on… look out for the mooncalf out tonight.” Colin explained as his voice grew quieter. “An infant mooncalf got lost, and I wanted to ensure it was safe.”

“Oh?” Lysander managed to say. He felt let down and underwhelmed by the truth. But the late-night adventure sounded too good to end it here too. “Well, could I join?”

Colin gave a small smile. His eyes shined brightly; he noticed it was the same hazel as his favourite cousin. “Sure, let’s go.”

[dfroza]

A desert bird

it is Autumn on garden earth but simultaneously Spring

[Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument]

Ever seen a silver cardinal?

The beautiful Pyrrhuloxia (Cardinalis sinuatus) has a slightly difficult name to pronounce (PURR-huu-lox-i-a) but we don't mind. Perhaps because of its slightly tongue-twistery name (and its appearance), it's also known as the "desert cardinal". Use whichever you prefer; we're pretty sure this silver and red bird doesn't mind one way or another (but you might want to ask it just to be polite)!

To learn more about birds in the monument, visit

11.19.23 • Facebook

when you read these instrumental words you see inside the heart of my thought-life, the inner space of silence

And you are free to allow them in, to communicate with my inner voice

(my heart & spirit)

writing in lines just as a poem, just like an ancient psalm that is read (although it is music, albeit silent in nature since contained “documented” in a Book long before recording music was even possible on garden earth)

And so we see the ancient writing of Scripture as a living body of work that “breathes…” (in Spirit)

and my spirit gently “mirrors” this, writing in lines just as (the inner rings) of a Tree

but my heart also reaches out in music, just as the sounds heard on earth in its True nature “instrumentally speaking”

like birdsong

(the inner silence) of a book as its heart is like the night sky… painted with words (as stars)

this is the inner room (the instrumental womb of thought)

And even the starry night sky plays music in praise of our beautiful mysterious Creator

The Holy One asks, “Do you really think you can find

someone or something to compare to Me? My equal?”

Look at the myriad of stars and constellations above you.

Who set them to burning, each in its place?

Who knows those countless lights each by name?

They obediently shine, each in its place,

because God has the great strength and strong power to make it so.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 40:25-26 (The Voice)

It is I who made the very ground on which you stand,

I who shaped the human beings who walk around on it.

I pulled the sky and the heavens taut with My own hands,

and organized the army of stars that march across the night sky.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 45:12 (The Voice)

Can you bind together a cluster of twinkling stars—

the seven sisters of Pleiades who keep company in the night sky?

Can you loosen the cords of Orion’s bow?

Can you lead the stars of the Zodiac out in their proper seasons

and guide the Bear with her cubs?

Do you know the rules of the heavens,

or apportion their influence on the seasons of the earth?

The Book of Job, Chapter 38:31-33 (The Voice)

When I gaze to the skies and meditate on Your creation—

on the moon, stars, and all You have made,

I can’t help but wonder why You care about mortals—

sons and daughters of men—

specks of dust floating about the cosmos.

But You placed the son of man just beneath God

and honored him like royalty, crowning him with glory and honor.

You ordained him to govern the works of Your hands,

to nurture the offspring of Your divine imagination;

You placed everything on earth beneath his feet:

All kinds of domesticated animals,

even the wild animals in the fields and forests,

The birds of the sky and the fish of the sea,

all the multitudes of living things that travel the currents of the oceans.

O Eternal, our Lord,

Your majestic name is heard throughout the earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 8:3-9 (The Voice)

The unfathomable cosmos came into being at the word of the Eternal’s imagination, a solitary voice in endless darkness.

The breath of His mouth whispered the sea of stars into existence.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 33:6 (The Voice)

He counts all the stars within His hands,

carefully fixing their number

and giving them names.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 147:4 (The Voice)

[Psalm 148]

Praise the Eternal!

All you in the heavens, praise the Eternal;

praise Him from the highest places!

All you, His messengers and His armies in heaven:

praise Him!

Sun, moon, and all you brilliant stars above:

praise Him!

Highest heavens and all you waters above the heavens:

praise Him!

Let all things join together in a concert of praise to the name of the Eternal,

for He gave the command and they were created.

He put them in their places to stay forever—

He declared it so, and it is final.

Everything on earth, join in and praise the Eternal;

sea monsters and creatures of the deep,

Lightning and hail, snow and foggy mists,

violent winds all respond to His command.

Mountains and hills,

fruit trees and cedar forests,

All you animals both wild and tame,

reptiles and birds who take flight:

praise the Lord.

All kings and all nations,

princes and all judges of the earth,

All people, young men and women,

old men and children alike,

praise the Lord.

Let them all praise the name of the Eternal!

For His name stands alone above all others.

His glory shines greater than anything above or below.

He has made His people strong;

He is the praise of all who are godly,

the praise of the children of Israel, those whom He holds close.

Praise the Eternal!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 148 (The Voice)

we are those at the time of the “end”:

“Those who are wise will shine as bright as the sky at midday, and those who make the many righteous will shine as the stars forever and ever. As for you, Daniel, keep these visions and their meaning a secret. Write down what you have seen and heard, then seal the scroll until the time of the end. Many will wander here and there, and knowledge will expand.”

The Book of Daniel, Chapter 12:3-4 (The Voice)

(will you take it all to heart?)

And your heart is sealed, like a secret, yet only until you willingly choose to “unveil” it to my eyes

to come to share (the inner space) of your thought-life with mine

to first meet from a distance, becoming friends.

to have an inner conversation before bodies meet.

speaking with me in silence but also “mirrored” by your voice from your body of garden earth and time

in the shape of your (silence & sound)

(are you content to wait to hear me speak until seeing me in body? would you still be willing to speak to the heart & spirit of a book in the meantime? and will you read & write in thought with its words?)

everything has to be presented as a question mark (?)

[inner--islands]

Interview with Inner Travels (July 2016)

1. What are some recent inspirations?

Singing bowls! Just starting to record with them. Watched a special on Mickey Hart recently, then I bought “Spirit Into Sound.” Also, in heavy rotation: Laraaji, Iasos, Frank Perry, Karma Moffett, Craig Kupka, Lino Capra Vaccina, Deuter, Pulse Emitter, SunPath, Hiroshi Yoshimura. Many, many others. And it’s summer, so the changes in nature around me. The green-ness.

2. What is your relationship with live performance? Do you play Inner Travels shows?

No shows yet. I’m open to the possibility, but you know, I’ve never actually performed live. Well, once, for my music theory class in college. Think there were maybe 30 to 40 people in the class. I played Yamaha DD-6 drum pads through a guitar amp, with a friend who played bass, guitar and sang. There was a saxophonist. We didn’t practice or jam before the performance. I remember being so nervous, then proud of myself when it was over. Don’t think the rest of the class liked it, though.

3. Do you have to be in a certain mindset to record Inner Travels music?

I explore sounds or musical ideas, see where that takes me. I’ll record something I like, build off of it from there until it sounds complete. Frequently, explorations yield unfinished results, but that’s fine because whenever I’m playing, I’m learning. Also, it’s therapeutic for me to play. Meditative.

4. Do you see your work as part of a certain tradition or community?

It’s my take on the New Age tapes and LPs from the 1970s and 80s. Some of the keyboards and synthesizers I use date back to that era. Others just sound like they do. Always believed in the DIY spirit. To me, making music at home seems freer. I also try to pursue a much older tradition – music as a healing force.

5. What guided the transition from Riotmeadows to Inner Travels?

A desire to create a more peaceful, healing music. Riotmeadows was a mad-scientist project. Although I used nearly every idea I ever wanted to use – making sample-based music on a computer, exploring lo-fi textures, smashing genres together – I grew out of the script I had created for the project. My desire increased to make electronic music much more simply, organically. In this world, I want to leave a much more positive type of music that helps people. That’s the focus of Inner Travels, and it remains so today.

6. How do you see the trajectory of Inner Travels, from “First Light” up until now?

Everything from “First Light” to “Phases of a Forest Moon” is one era. The equipment used to make that music was primitive, as far as synthesizers go, but I wanted to prove that intent far outweighs the limits of the equipment. To me, they don’t sound like they were made with Casios and Yamaha Portasounds – they were. And everything from “Bakasyiong” to “Clear Seeing” feels like a longer journey with smaller, more sophisticated equipment. Albums feel less like collages now. Songs are getting longer. Trances getting deeper.

7. What is your relationship with the phrase “New Age?” I see a lot of folks gravitate towards different aspects of that phrase. I’m wondering how you see it.

My relationship with the phrase seems to only now be expanding from where it began – with the music. I’ve always been very, very into music. Growing up in the 80s, most people I knew, most music reviews I read, used the phrase “New Age” negatively. To describe something as being strange or cheesy. So, naturally, that was how I would have described the first New Age album I listened to back then, if anyone would have asked. When I got older, I listened to New Age music after experiences with other musical styles, so I understood it better. New Age music wants you to feel good. Music is such a powerful force, but never had I felt something this positive in it before. Plus it embraces the electronic sounds that I’ve always loved. The experiments.

8. Your music seems very driven by image and landscape. Are there any special places that you would want to record new music in?

Thanks! For me, the music creates the imagery and landscapes. This summer, I want to record music outside. I need to make more field recordings, though, so that’s at the top of my list. It’s really wonderful to just sit in a park, the woods, by a lake or a river and just listen to the world going on around you in your headphones. One problem around here now is traffic noise. I live in a very gorgeous area, but it’s hard to capture the songs of the birds when cars and trucks interrupt them every minute. So now, I’m looking for more secluded nature spots. Anyway, back to recording music, the ultimate for me would be to record music inside of a cave. Or a cathedral.

9. Why do you make space for music in your life?

It’s my passion. Oh, there was a time when I packed away all my instruments and cut back my trips to the music stores because I foolishly thought I could forget it all. But a life without that stuff is just not for me.

10. Words of wisdom you like to recall in times of need?

The universe provides.

Inner Travels is the work of Steve Targo, based in Pell Lake, Wisconsin. In May he released Clear Seeing, his first album with Inner Islands.

[worldsneverfilled]

Unspecified Entry: Welcome to Knashthra! Draft 3

//Round 3. I mostly just changed the bit about the wisps and flowers that glow. I'm trying to get that whimsical, ethereal feeling and struggling to get there. It's going to be the death of me. I'll try more rewrites of the Blessings Tree one later because I'm trying to pull off the same there.//

Stepping through the archway, you see two open doors with an ornate branch pattern on them. Upon closer inspection, they appear like interlocking bars to seal the door against intruders.

"They're rarely closed, but when they are, the branches can be shaped to lock the door. They'll wind together to make a strong barrier," your guide murmurs, noticing your gaze.

They step outside, and after following them, you see the thick forest in more detail. The moon lights the treetops with a silvery caress, but below the canopy, soft pink spots emanate from the blossoms in the branches, with amber light filtering out through windows in the homes within the trees.

To your left, the platform you stand on stretches out to a bridge made of the branches from the Blessings Tree and the nearest tree that wind together to make a stable pathway. Smaller branches rise at the edges, creating a railing and lighting the path with softly glowing leaves.

The bridge leads to another platform grown from the branches of the tree, which leads to another bridge, and another, and another. A few trees into the forest is where the amber light you saw begins, marking the line where the homes and shops start.

Rather than take you through the treetops, your guide takes you down the stairs to the forest floor, where a worn path waits. Wisps flicker like fireflies in the air around the bases of the trees, dancing over fallen, glowing flowers or letting the wind carry them as they like. Each emits a faint fragrance or sound that is just out of reach of your recognition. The bark, further down the trunks, glowed softly from the lichen that clung to it. There is no need for gas-lit lanterns or torches when the night is so brightly lit with the magic of this realm. Beside the fallen, still-glowing petals in little clumps are faintly glowing mushrooms and flowers, aiding you in seeing the dimly lit path ahead. It might be more overwhelming out here than it was within the Tree.

Above you, a few people are milling about on the paths high above, murmuring in the night, but most have made their way indoors for the night. Their voices are almost reverent in their volume and tone, mindful not to disturb the ethereal peace of the forest, or perhaps it's worshipful in this natural temple of beauty and prosperity.

Beside the path, a stream burbles and whispers playfully. You see little wisps of light dancing along the surface, playing on the petals of fallen flowers or swirling around one another on twigs carried with the flow. When the water crosses the path ahead, tree roots grow into a short and stout bridge to cross over the waterway.

As you follow, a gentle breeze ruffles your hair, bringing more of the foreign assortments of scents, along with what one typically finds in the forest. Rotting wood and the sweet and subtle scent of pine, but also the heavy, prickly smell of a bonfire with a fruity cake woven into it.

The walk is about half an hour, and your guide turns down a left path near the journey's end. They hesitate at the stairway and glance back at you with silent scrutiny. You must pass whatever test went through their mind because they offer you a cheerful smile and dance up the stairs that wind around the great tree.

You follow them up and remove your shoes when you step inside, as they ask of you, and then you have a moment to get a better look at the sitting room you've just walked into.

The room is larger than you could have imagined from the outside, the ceiling stretching maybe a story and a half above you. A short loft stairway leads up to a small space where you see a bed and dresser, the former grown into the wall of the tree. Spiral stairs lead further down the trunk, while archways separate the rooms around you; a small kitchenette is through one such archway to your right.

The archways are grown from solid wood, like supports for the rest of the tree, similar to what the pillars did for the Blessings Tree. And like the Blessings Tree, they had formed a thick bark around them for protection against exposure and disease. Spindly, branch-like structures stretch above you, providing more support for the tree as they reach out for the outer walls.

It's cozy, a warm shelter for the inhabitants to feel safe and comfortable, nestled in an overstuffed chair or couch. A few branches grew out of the center, pressed close against the wall to make shelves that held books and knickknacks.

"Would you like tea?"

You nod, and they hurry into the kitchen to brew some.

"Make yourself at home!"

[woodworkingpastor]

The Heartbreaking Beauty of God -- Luke 11:1-14 -- Sunday, September 4, 2022

Today’s sermon is part of something I’ve tried to do recently on Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends, many of our church family are enjoying the beauty and fellowship of Camp Bethel. It has seemed to me that we ought to do something special for those of you who are here.  It’s a bit like when you were in college and you went to class on that Friday afternoon before spring break and were one of just a handful who had bothered—there ought to be a little something extra for you.  

That extra is this song by Tenielle Neda, a Christian singer/songwriter from Western Australia. I found this song several weeks ago, and it immediately touched a place in my heart that is longing for something more in these difficult days we’ve been in:  

What do we need in these times? My answer has been to write some sermons on discipleship that are the focus of the Discipleship reading guide available in the foyer and will run until October 16, and then a series of worship services organized around what I’m calling The Great Prayers of the Church that will take us from October 23 through the start of Advent. Today is something of a preview of what is to come this fall.

The Heartbreaking Beauty of God

Does the phrase “heartbreaking beauty” make any sense at all? How can beauty be heartbreaking? I have several pictures today that I want to use to illustrate the point.

The first is this picture of the night sky—what the night sky truly looks like when it isn’t obscured by light pollution.  

I remember the first time I saw the night sky like this; it was when I was at the workcamp in Lybrook, NM. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night and stepped outside our cabin and was almost knocked over by this view. I can literally feel the longing to go there and see the night sky again.

Or consider these pictures from the Webb telescope. The first is of a Phantom Galaxy—a place in our universe thought to be home to over 100 billion planets

The second is a picture of an Einstein Ring. 

This is a phenomenon caused when light from a galaxy or star is bent as it travels past another galaxy, and the bending causes the light to appear in a ring like this. What is especially remarkable about this picture is that this Einstein ring is 12 billion light-years from earth.  Because it takes time for light to travel, looking at this picture is like looking backwards in time. We’re looking at something that dates to close to the time of the galaxy’s formation, something 12 billion years old!

It makes me think of Psalm 8:3-4.  

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?

But we don’t have to look into the outer reaches of the galaxy to consider the heartbreaking beauty of God. Come back home to the places we live and see what God has done.

This summer, Lynette and I drove down to Devil’s Bathtub in Scott County, VA. It’s basically a swimming hole in a creek deep in the mountains of SW Virginia; one of our favorite places to go. The painfully cold water makes the spring at Camp Bethel feel like a sauna!

Devil’s Bathtub is a very popular hike, but it’s part of a longer loop trail that doesn’t get much traffic. We’d been talking about doing the whole 7-mile loop sometime. In reading about it, I came across these occasional references to a waterfall.  Hardly anyone mentioned it, and a few who did made it seem like the waterfall was at the bathtub itself; the descriptions weren’t clear. We were curious, so we decided to go check it out for ourselves.

Sure enough, about ½ mile past Devil’s Bathtub, we came to the waterfall: it was 20 feet down a gorge in which someone had helpful put some ropes to climb down. At the bottom, we found the waterfall. There was something remarkable about being 3 miles into the forest, 20 feet below the trail, swimming in this mountain stream. It was almost as if we had discovered the place!  And again the heartbreaking beauty of God comes back into play—if I had the chance, I’d go back there this afternoon just to experience it again.

Then there is this picture—which is, admittedly, terrible. 

Lynette and I were at Fort Lewis Lodge in Bath County, sitting on the deck outside the restaurant waiting for breakfast. We were observing the humming bird feeder in the foreground; a feeder that was “owned” by the hummingbird at the top of the picture. Hummingbirds are some of the fiercest birds there are; a National Geographic article a few years ago suggested that hummingbirds may be the only species of birds whose language is completely profanity! I suspect this fellow was living up to that reputation as he chased off about 10 other birds from the feeder; Lynette and I were a bit surprised he was letting us sit there!

As we watched the action at the feeder, we eventually noticed this new hummingbird getting a drink. We wondered why this hummingbird was allowed access to the feeder when none of the others were. After a moment, this hummingbird turned and we noticed it had no red on its neck—this was a female—his female!  Is this picture actually a love story?  

Thinking of these things calls to mind Colossians 1:15-20.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers--all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross (Colossians 1:15-20).

When we sing to Jesus; when we “proclaim our Lord’s death until he comes” by sharing communion; when we—like the song we began with—begin to contemplate our God in heaven, and the new heavens and the new earth, and the absence of strife and fear and death; when we consider the challenges of our times; when we do all of these things and begin to contemplate what God has created in and for Jesus, allowing those things to settle deep within us with a longing that is almost more than we can put into words, we’ve grasped something of the heartbreaking beauty of God that makes us long for God’s kingdom to come, on earth as it is in heaven.

And when we begin our prayer by saying, “Our Father,” this is the God to whom we pray—the God who made all of this. And yet Jesus teaches us to pray “Abba.” The God who made all these things can be known with an intimacy deep within our hearts.

How much more…

The God who created galaxies and waterfalls and ruby-throated hummingbirds is concerned about our daily needs. It almost boggles the mind, that the God who created all these things would be concerned about people who wrestle with the demands of hospitality and food and forgiveness.

After Jesus gives us words to use in prayer to God, he gives us the rather strange story of someone who needs a loaf of bread in the middle of the night, so he goes to his neighbor to borrow it. The lesson of this story is not that God is like the grumpy neighbor; the lesson is from the lesser to the greater: if a grumpy neighbor will help us in a moment of need, how much more will God give us what we need.

The God who created the heavens and the earth wants us to ask for what we need. Jesus calls us to ask, to seek, to knock, and he follows this up with another argument from the lesser to the greater. No one among us would give a snake to a child who asked for fish or a scorpion to one who asked for an egg.  No one would do these things. Knowing that this is true, Jesus says, “how much more” the God who flung the heavens into place will give good things to us.  God encourages us to bring our chaos to him.

But that phrase “how much more” really gets us. Our lives are consumed with “how much more types of issues.

“How much more money will this cost?” “How much more do I have to do?”

“How much more loss can I withstand?” “How much more hate can I endure and hold my faith together?”

How much more…how much more…how much more…

Through my office window, I can see the Starbucks drive-through. There is rarely an hour of the day when there aren’t a few cars in line; people lining up to make their offering at the Temple of the Sacred Bean. I wonder about the persons coming through the line sometimes. Who are they? What’s going on in their lives? I wonder about their pain, the brokenness in their lives. What if we had a sign out by the end of the church driveway that read, “experiencing God’s love through healed relationships since 1908.”  I wonder if anyone would get their coffee and turn right, come across McVitty Road and come into the church to learn more?

Would people be intrigued by the beauty of healed relationships, of knowing in their very lives the what the statement “how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.” Would people receive an invitation to trust God past slogans and platitudes into a relationship with the creator of the universe who knows every detail of our lives—both good and bad—and wants to bless us?

Beauty in ugliness

There is a scene near the end of the Lord of the Rings that speaks to the power of the heartbreaking beauty of God. The two hobbits—Frodo and Sam—are deep in Mordor, the domain of the evil Saruman. Frodo is sinking deeper and deeper into the clutches of the Ring of Power’s evil grasp. Stalked by the insane Gollum; dodging orcs at nearly every-step; hungry, thirsty, and exhausted; it looks like Frodo’s plan to destroy the ring in the fires of Mount Doom was foolish beyond description.  

One night as Frodo and Sam lie uncomfortably in the barren wilderness of Mordor trying to rest one night, Sam glimpses the heavens. Tolkien writes:

There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach.

Amidst the frustrations and disappointments and challenges of our time, the heartbreaking beauty of God is a reminder that the Maker of the heavens and the earth is the one we call Abba who is aware of our every need.  Jesus beckons us to continue along the journey.

[happyheidi]

the feminine urge to wander the forest in a flowing white nightgown under the moonlight

[genshin-obsessed]

Your blog is everything I wanted and more. Im a lurker for your writings ahaha if you can guess who i am 👀

How about the guys reacting to s/o's death. Can be a group writing but if its too much, just Diluc, Childe, Razor and Kaeya would be nice. I think they would have interesting reactions >:3

First of all, Anon. I LOVE YOU. I wanted to write this out but thought it might be a bit too much but then you went and requested it!! I guess I have no choice but to write this out! >:) (That’s also why I did all the characters) second. Guess who you are o: may I get a hint? I have 2 people in my mind tho o: Warnings: Death, mentions of blood, angst. Pure angst.

Sidenote: The woman in this is my OC named Toxin! Whenever I need a really big, bad villain, she’s my go-to! That’s all!

Includes: Aether, Kaeya, Venti, Diluc, Razor, Xiao, Xingqiu, and Childe!

Scaramouche & Zhongli Here | Part 2 Here

You Die!

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you, desperate for an escape. A scream erupted from your lips as the ground shook beneath you, causing you to stumble and fall over. You had received an emergency request to help fight… someone. The request wasn’t very detailed but someone needed help and you couldn’t turn your back on them. So, you went ahead and tried to help.

You should’ve been careful. You should’ve brought help. But you didn’t and you were paying for your stupidity. The person that you were fighting was strong. She was tall, pale, and had long black hair. Her unearthly glowing green eyes were terrifying. She was fast and all of your attacks were unable to touch her.

As you ran, only one thought crossed your mind. The smiling image of your boyfriend. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to run. How you wished you could be in his arms, feeling safe and sound.

As you ran out of the forest and down the field, the woman appeared in front of you, catching you in her arms and stabbing you with a poison dagger. You shrieked as your hands curled around her clothes. The sharp pain turned into a burning sensation and you looked up at her. Her face was inches away and she smirked, her eyes glowing bright by the second.

“Finally. But you’re not the only one I wanted to break.” What? What did she mean? Her head turned to the left and you followed her gaze and the second you saw what she was looking at, your heart shattered.

The woman pulled the dagger out and it seemed to vanish as she smirked at your boyfriend. The tears slid down your cheeks as you weakly reached out to him for help.

“(F/N)!” His heart stopped as he watched the woman disappear and you fall to the floor. He sprinted to you, picking you up in his arms as blood poured out of the wound. “H-hey! Hey, keep your eyes open! J-Just stay awake!” He held your head against his chest, trying to calm himself, but how could he? You were bleeding out in front of him. 

He looked down and ran his fingers along your cheek as your skin started to turn purple. The poison had taken its effect and it was moving fast. You were leaving, you would leave him just like Lumine left him. He was gonna be alone all over again.

“A-Aether… I-I l-love you.”

“I love you too! You’ll be fine, everything’s g-gonna be ok.” Who was he kidding? You weren’t going to make it. But he couldn’t admit it. Aether still had yet to find Lumine and he’d never gotten over losing her. You, you were his light. You were his guiding start. You were his moon, his everything. 

To think that he could lose you? No, no! He didn’t want it. He didn’t want a world without you. A world without you was pure torture. So why? Why was the universe so hellbent on taking things away from him? Why did it demand everything precious to him?!

Why you? 

A pained cry left his lips as your hand fell to your side and that light disappeared from your eyes. “N-no. No, no, no, no! W-wake up! Please wake up! Do-don’t leave me! Don’t you leave me too! Not like this! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!” He held your lifeless body against him, his head pressed against your chest. He couldn’t hear it… he couldn’t hear your heartbeat.

“No… NO!” He ran as fast as his feet could carry him and caught you before you hit the ground. The woman had disappeared but he didn’t care. You were… you were dying! How could he stop it? He wanted to stop the bleeding, he wanted to stop the way your color was changing, he wanted to stop time!

“K-Kaeya… h-how-”

“I was told to come here. A messenger came to me and said you called me and told me to come here.” He explained, taking your cold hand into his, pressing a kiss against it.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“No. Don’t apologize and don’t close your eyes. Please, just stay up a little longer.” He wanted to pick you up and run to the nearest doctor, but he knew… it wasn’t worth it. He wouldn’t make it. He’d never felt so worthless and weak. He swore to protect you and keep you safe and now that you needed him… he was useless.

“T-tired…” Slowly, your eyes closed and your hand fell limp in his. Kaeya’s eyes widened as the tears slid down his cheek.

“(f-f/n)? B-baby! No, wait! Don’t do this! Pl-please no!” He took your hand and pressed it against his cheek, but the second he loosened his grip, it fell. Kaeya shook his head, tears flooding down his cheek as a scream erupted from his mouth. “(F/N)!!!”

Slow. He was too slow. Why couldn’t he be fast enough?! That woman, he knew her. He knew her and he vowed to hunt her down and tear her to shreds. But right now…

Venti picked you up with trembling hands, letting his now bloodied hands touch your cheek. He couldn’t even talk, his voice quivered as he looked down into your eyes. No. This wasn’t happening. You weren’t going to leave him like this.

“H-hey, love. E-everything’s going to be just fine. You’re fine.” He tried to keep his smile up but it was so damn hard when he knew the truth. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t even lie to himself. You were slipping away and all he could do was watch. He knew he was the weakest of all archons but why? Why couldn’t he be a little bit stronger to save you.

“I-I wa-wanna sl-sleep-”

“NO!” He frowned and pressed a kiss to your lips. “No, don’t sleep. Not yet. Just stay awake a little longer and then we can both sleep together tonight.” You weakly nodded, but you couldn’t stay awake any longer. You felt like you were moving, but your body was slowly going numb, until everything disappeared. “(f/n)? (f-f/n)? H-hey! Hey this isn’t a joke! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP!”

The second he saw the woman step away from you, a fiery phoenix flew towards her, but she’d disappeared before it could hit her. Diluc ran to you as he watched your body fall to the ground.

He fell to his knees and quickly picked you up, shaking you a little. There was something that snapped inside. He’d always kept his composure, but after seeing what had happened, his emotions burst out of him. He wasn’t in control of anything. He couldn’t control his thoughts, emotions… or your death.

“It’ll be fine! Everything’s fine!” He said, pressing his hand to the wound. You winced at the pain as your skin started to turn purple and blood spilled out of your mouth.

“I-I’m so-sorry.” He shook his head, taking your face in his hands.

“No. I’m sorry. I sh-should’ve gotten here faster.” He was still trying to convince himself you were going to be fine, but deep down, he knew the truth. He knew the ugly truth that was coming up.

“D-Diluc… y-you’re pretty.” His eyes clenched shut at your words as a tear slid down his cheek.

“Don’t leave. Th-there are so many things I-I want to do with you. Pl-please don’t leave me. Wh-what d-do I do?” You smiled weakly at him.

“Y-you b-be the Darknight H-hero…” He scoffed and looked down at you.

“Without you… I’m nothing.” You wanted to say more, you wanted to deny his words, but you were so tired. Slowly, the world faded away and you could no longer hear his cries. “No! NO! NO!! DON’T DO THIS TO ME! STOP! COME BACK! PLEASE BRING MY (F/N) BACK!”

The wolf within had appeared but he wasn’t able to catch up before the woman disappeared. He ran to you and picked you up, seeing the blood gushing out of the wound.

“N-no! (f/n)!” Tears flooded his eyes as he watched your color turn purple. That woman, she reeked of poison so she must’ve poisoned you.

“Shhh…” You muttered, holding your hand to his cheek. “D-don’t c-cry.” He didn’t know what to do. He felt so lost and helpless, but the worst part… he knew what was coming. He shook his head vehemently and tried to pick you up, but you let out a cry of pain, making him lower you back down.

“I c-can save you!”

“I-it’s ok… it’s ok, Razor. I… I’ll be ok.” He hated those words. He hated everything you were saying so much. Razor adored you, he missed you every second he couldn't be with you and normally, he’d never hate your words. But today… right now, he hated how right you were. He shook his head as the tears slid down his cheeks as he felt you slip away.

“Do-don’t do this t-to me. Not you too… they left me. Why do you want to leave me too?” You weakly tugged him down and made him kiss you, but half way through the kiss, he felt your head fall back and he knew. You were gone.

He knew that woman that had done this to you. He knew her and he was going to make sure she paid. But right now… right now you were more important. Xiao took you in his arms as tears started to fill his eyes. He’d never felt like this before and he hated feeling like this.

You made him feel so powerful, so invincible, so untouchable. But right now, he felt so vulnerable and broken. If he had been faster, if he had just gotten here faster he could’ve saved you. He could’ve been hugging you, seeing your skin bright with life, seeing your glimmering eyes, seeing that dazzling smile. But no, he was a failure.

A sob escaped his lips as he watched you starting to slip away. He pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“D-don’t do this. Pl-please don’t leave me. Y-you pro-promised you w-wouldn’t do this to me!” He looked down at you but you still had that angelic smile on your face. Why? Why would you do this?! You touched his cheek and spoke; your voice was a quiet whisper, but he heard it.

“I-I love y-you, Xiao…” He shook his head and glared at the sky before shutting his eyes. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see this happening to you.

“I love you too. S-so much.” He felt your body go limp and another sob escaped his lips. “Y-you pr-promised you’d c-come back to me.” He raised your face closer to him and pressed a kiss against your lips. “P-please come back to me. I-I can’t live without you… I do-don’t want to.”

He sprinted down the hill towards where you lay, gathering you in his arms when he was at the bottom. He didn’t know what to do, there was so much blood, so much poison, and no hope. He fell beside you and pressed his hands onto the wound as blood gushed out.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, it’s ok, it’s ok, everything’s just fine!” You winced in pain in your torso, but it didn’t last very long. It only took a minute before you lost feeling in your legs and arms.

“Xingqiu… i-it hurts.”

“I know, I know and I’m so sorry! If I was faster, I could’ve helped you. It’ll be ok, I promise, my love. I won’t stop until you’re taken care of.” Why didn’t he believe his own words? Maybe it was the fading light in your eyes, maybe it was the color draining from your face, maybe it was the sheer amount of blood that poured from the wound… but Xingqiu didn’t have a single ounce of hope. Why? Why was the world doing this to him? Why was it punishing you like this? Did he do something? Did he commit a sin that was so unforgivable that the universe or the gods would punish someone as sweet and amazing as you?

He wanted to cry, but he bit his lip to hold the tears back. His eyes were glossy and his vision was blurry, but he refused to cry. He wasn’t going to show you the fleeting hope in him. He wasn’t going to show you that he was  a liar.

“Xingqiu… w-will y-you g-give me one l-last kiss?” His head snapped to you and he shook his head.

“It won’t be our last kiss! We’ll have more chances. We’ll have so many more chances.” He did kiss you however. It was short and sweet, as he returned to applying pressure onto the wound. His eyes flickered to you for a second before his entire body tensed. You were staring at the sky… with dull, lifeless eyes. “(f-f/n)? H-hey… hey wake up.” He gently shook your shoulders. “Hey, stop. Th-this isn’t funny! I know you like playing tricks on me but this isn’t funny! St-stop!!” Finally, he broke. He laid his head on your chest as his tears started to flow. 

“NO!” Oh, he knew that woman well. He’d worked with her once. She was, indeed, powerful. She was a killing machine and there was a time where he was impressed by her. But right now he felt nothing but pure hatred for her. But that had to wait, because you… you were dying.

Childe pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest and kissing your head. He was trembling and his emotions were a mess. Tears trailed down his cheeks as he looked down at you. The wound oozed with red and purple, so he knew you’d been poisoned.

“H-hey, darling. You ok? Everything’s just gonna be ok, you hear me?” You gave him a weak nod as you looked down at the wound. However, he took your face and made you look up at him. “No, no. Just look at me. Nothing but me.”

“I-I won’t… I’m tired.”

“HEY! Don’t you dare close those beautiful eyes on me! Everything’s going to be fine! Everything… everything is fine. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare even think about leaving me. Don’t you… don’t do it. Please, god I’m begging you (f/n)! Don’t leave me all alone in this world!”

“I-I ca-can’t stay…”

“Yes, y-yes you can! You can’t leave me, please d-don’t.. I-I don’t know what to do! What am I supposed to do?! Just go on, pretending everything’s ok?! JUST PRETEND LIKE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE DIDN’T LEAVE ME?!”

“Shh… d-don’t get so angry.”

“I-” He sighed, taking in a shaky breath, “I love you so much i-it’s hard to breathe without you. Do-don’t take away m-my reason for li-living.” You didn’t answer. You only weakly smiled before your eyes closed and your head fell back. Childe’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “N-no. No- HEY! No, no, no! Please no!” He held you against his chest as he let out a scream. What else could he do besides cry.

Your boyfriend stood up, holding you tightly in his arms. There was only one thought in his mind as he glared in the direction the woman had gone. 

There was nothing left for him. So he wouldn’t stop; he would relentlessly hunt that woman down and tear her apart completely. That way, she could feel an ounce of his pain.

[comfortscripts]

Could I request angsty prompt 3 ("It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.”) with Remus. But could it have a fluffy-ish ending??

Congrats on 2.5k btw!!!

Join the celebration ♡♡♡

Thank you for requesting!!! There is mention of bruises and blood in this so be aware please

I got so carried away

Flashes of flowing red and slashing paws ran through his head, painting a picture of last night’s atrocities. Remus begged to fall asleep again, that dreamless state was better than the realisation of the monster he became only hours before.

Full moons are never safe but there is a structure that tries to prevent disasters. Protection charms, group tactics and restricting the changing beast, all of that had worked for countless nights. Until last night.

Pieces patched themselves together in the shaken boy’s mind, memories revealing the terrible truth. The night was going well, the Marauders had managed to restrain him through the peak of the transformation. But something snapped, the wind shifted and he caught the scent something, no, someone.

You didn’t make it a habit to roam around at night but with all the pressure of exams, a midnight walk in the brisk air as the beams of the moon shone your path, seemed like the perfect destressing technique.

Skirting the forbidden forest as you hummed a sweet tune. Daydreams of a certain chocolate-loving Gryffindor filling your mind, pulling you away from reality and distracting you from the increasing sound of heavy paws thudding.

Remus didn’t want to remember the actual attack. He couldn’t bare to relive those cruel memories or hear the echo of your pained whimpers anymore. Anger at the beast that lurked inside him and guilt over not having control but mainly, he was scared. Scared that he could have killed someone, killed you, nonetheless. You have always been there, supporting him and caring for him even when his own friends didn’t notice. Remus was more in love with you than he could admit, but now, his love for you nearly cost him so greatly.

Light knocks accompany the sound of the door cautiously opening, “Moony, she’s okay. It’s all okay”

Throwing the duvet over his lanky figure once more, trying to lull himself back into a dreamless state. The actions caused James to sigh, he hates what happened but what he hated more was that Remus was haunted by it.

“Lupin, you can’t just sleep all day. You have to go see her; she’s been asking”

“I can’t. Facing her is too much, just let me sleep please. Today is almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.”

Tears brimming his stormy eyes as his scarred lips quake with each truth that falls. His heart longs to go to you, to hold you and apologise until he runs out of air. But his head knows he can’t, he can never be around you again because all you’ll see is a monster, you’ll see the truth.

Hours pass by as the Marauders come and go, failing in their attempts to convince the crestfallen wizard. With the moon’s ray taunting him, reminders of his vicious counterpart invaded his mind once more. Tossing and turning as he realised the answer to his problem; he needed you, he needed to know that you were truly okay.

For such a tall person, Remus could sneak through the halls quieter than any Marauder. Light footsteps toward the infirmary with only his wand and stray moonbeams to guide him, heart pounding and mind racing at what could possible be waiting for him when he arrives.

Slipping through the impressive doors as his eyes scanned over the empty beds, searching for your figure; only to find you propped up against the pillows, gazing out the window at the midnight view.

Cuts and scratches painted your arms, bruises slowly disappearing thanks to a multitude of potions, and a blood-stained bandage placed amongst the crook of your neck. Even with the obvious aliments, Remus thought you were the most breath-taking person at Hogwarts.

“I was wondering when you’d show up”

His eyes had been so focused on the damage he'd inflicted that he had yet to notice your attention was solely on him. Cheeks began to feel hot as his body reacted to the gaze of his crush.

“Just didn’t know how to face you. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, but I am.” Stepping closer to your messy bed, practically leaning against the stiff mattress. “I’m more sorry than I could ever communicate, I wish I could take it all back and protect you from that monster, well actually from me.”

Those tears that had balanced upon his lower lashes gently fell across his sombre cheeks; streams of the warm tears highlighted by the silver of the moon. Hanging his head in shame but mainly, protecting himself from looking at you.

Your soft hand reached to cover his larger one, tenderly gripping it as to show affection and forgiveness. The smile on your face hadn’t left since he arrived, knowing that his presence was all your heart had craved even in a situation like this.

“You, Remus Lupin, are no monster. I shouldn’t have been out so late, nor should I have been so distracted, but this is neither of our faults. Sometimes things happen and we can’t stop them, we can’t stop nature.”

Bringing his lone hand to cup your empty one, he allows himself to search your eyes. The expectation of fear was quickly drowned by the overwhelming sight of care and forgiveness. “I don’t deserve to be forgiven, not after what I did”

“Darling, you are good. A mistake like this doesn’t change that. And if we want to look on the bright-side of things, now you’ll have company on the next full-moon”

Your optimistic words shook Remus, almost as if he hadn’t fully comprehended the idea of having turned you.

Whilst his heart swooned at the thought of having someone to love wholly, his mind painted the nightmare he had cursed you with, again and again.

[witchynyx]

Disabled Witchery

So for reference: I'm autistic, have ADHD/depression/anxiety/insomnia, and have mobility issues, chronic pain, chronic fatigue, and fibromyalgia.

My witchcraft is more recent than all of these (about 3yrs now), so I've not really adapted a practice to my limitations, but I've created my own practice which thus works around them. It's hard to know what qualifies as a 'hack' when you've never really known anything different, but I'm going to see what I come up with.

Timing is Flexible

I guess one of the things that makes the biggest difference for me is being flexible about time. Wanna do a full moon ritual but you just don't have the capacity to do so in the hour closest to its peak illumination? Anywhere within a few days is cool - I know considering 3 days as full (ie the night closest to 100% and the night either side, but some also consider 5 days (at which it's still 98%+ illumination), or even 7 (still over 95%)!

Likewise with your seasonal celebrations, it doesn't have to be on *the* date! Nature doesn't flick sudden switches between seasons, so the energy of a certain celebration or event doesn't suddenly appear and then disappear after 24 hours. There's often up to a week between the traditional and astronomical dates of the sabbats, and honestly, I'll do whatever I'm planning within up to a week either side of that. If there's a few things I want to do, they they don't all need to be done on the same day, either. You don't need to do everything at once, and you don't need to do them at the exact time/day.

You don't have to do All The Things!

I especially see the stress of this from younger and newer witches, but you really don't have to do everything. Sure, it might be nice to do an elaborate ritual every new moon, full moon, and sabbat, but that's a LOT! And that's even a lot for someone young, in good health, with lots of energy and minimal external commitments! Maybe you still want to observe all these, but all you can manage is 5min meditating near your window or lighting a candle to acknowledge these - that's rad, and totally counts!

Magic + Self Care = Win

Honestly there are so many books on how to inject magic into your self-care routine*, but witchcraft has literally been the best thing for my self-care game. Learning to connect with myself and the natural world around me has been the best thing I've ever done for my mental health. Plus it's an easy way to implement the things you're learning! I incorporate colour magic into my clothes/makeup selection, medical and magical herbalism both inform my tea selections, perfume and bath salt blends, and charm my food/drinks.

* My fave book on the topic so far is Light Magic for Dark Times by Lisa Marie Basile (she's also chronically ill).

Nature is Everywhere

I literally live in the very centre of my city - I can't drive, how much I can walk is pretty limited, and even spending much time on public transport wipes me out - but nature is still EVERYWHERE! Even excluding the herbs growing in pots on my balcony and and the pothos in my bookshelves, an urban space still has nature. Without leaving my apartment I can still see a few pigeons/crows/etc flying past occasionally, and a few paperbark trees, plus the roses and crepe myrtle in the garden of the old building across the road.

If you don't have 4 different species of street trees growing on your block or any parks/gardens nearby, what plants grow in abandoned spaces, or force their way through cracks in the concrete? What birds are around? Is anyone nearby growing plants in window boxes or balconies? Even on a terrible day, walking past the paperbark tree across the road when it's covered in flowers brings me a moment of joy.

Meditation Isn't That Hard...

... But it still kinda is. Literally the main purpose most folks are using meditation for is to train their focus. All that needs to be is picking a focal point (the breath is a common one, because it's always available) and focusing on it - your brain will absolutely wander from that, that's just when you gently nudge it back to your focal point. That's literally it! Over time, your brain will wander less often, and return back where you want it more easily. It's not supposed to be easy straight-up, otherwise there wouldn't be any benefit to it - it's a skill you practice to get better at, like any skill.

You don't need to sit any particular way - if you have pain/fatigue, you can lie down (just ideally somewhere you're not at risk of falling asleep), if you have ADHD or are otherwise hyperactive/easily bored, you can combine it with movement (stretching, walking, running, you can honestly meditate while smashing out your cardio at the gym). There's lots of ways you can adapt the basic premise, and it's totally fine to use guided meditations if you get caught up in your own mind and need external reminders to prompt you back to your focus.

ADHD Note: Meditation is literally THE most effective non-medication way to improve our focus! The down-side is that our brains are dopamine-deprived/seeking and meditation doesn't tend to give us that dopamine hit it wants, which can make the executive dysfunction a massive block to actually doing the thing. I'm pretty stuck here myself, particularly with my physical health stuff ruling out anything particularly physical/active.. I might need to see if I can find something high-dopamine to do afterwards as a bribe?

It's Okay to do Your Own Thing

Throw out any idea of what your practice "should" look like or include and just roll with what works. If you're physically disabled and struggle to leave the house, feeling like you need to do you rituals in a remote forest is probably going to mean you don't get to do many and then feel crap about yourself - craft a ritual you can do sitting in bed! If you're asthmatic, perhaps using candles, sprays, or bells would work better to cleanse your space than burning incense or herbs. If you have poor fine motor control or impaired vision, maybe you find it easier to record your journey digitally! Doing something "differently" and being able to do it is far better than doing something "properly" and just.. literally never being able to do it.

You're Not Alone

There are honestly SO many disabled, chronically ill, neurodivergent, and mentally ill witches out there. We're really often drawn to witchcraft, and there are some folks putting out some great resources on how they adapt their practice - like @heatherwitch's "Bedridden Witchcraft" series. Quite a few popular witchy authors are chronically ill as well, like Lisa Marie Basile, Juliet Diaz, and Arin Murphy-Hiscock. Don't let anyone tell you that your can't practice witchcraft unless you're physically and mentally well, it's bullshit, and we're all living proof.