#v: myth and magic

[fantasiesandfolklore]

Open Starter :: Muse: Relta ;; V: Phoenix Queen Open to: Anyone!

“Have you read these new laws my father put in place? They’re rather fascinating,” Relta inquired of the person who had interpreted her reading.

“I must discuss them with him, for some are oppressive toward minority groups in the kingdom, and I won’t stand for that…not that I have say over him,” Relta muttered the last part in annoyance.

Much as she was heir apparent, she didn’t have that much political power over her father as he was king. She was merely a future queen for when he resigned in a few years. However, she could easily mesmerize the aging man into following her will at this point.

[loverindeepspace]

True Devotion // GoT!Rafayel x Reader

Hi ya'll! It's been a hot second since I posted, moving house took a toll. Also, no wifi until this week made it difficult to write. But I'm back!! And it's a long one! I got inspo for this as I was listening to Priest by Sierra Simone This is smut, minors DNI!!!! Concept: You are an offering to your God. This follows the Temple's Promise memory. Tags: Smut, making out and fucking on an altar, spoilers for a part of the GoT myth, oral (F!recieving), fingering, p in v, biting, cream pie (wrap before you tap!), fem!reader, porn with a lil bit of plot, I took some liberties with the GoT setting Word Count: 2959 Masterlist

Pink hues engulfed your surroundings as the sun set below the vast ocean. Rafayel gazed across the temple, a faraway look in his eyes as he told you more about the ceremony of the sea god scheduled to take place the next day, his voice calm, if a bit melancholy. You couldn't help but admire his profile. His violet hair swayed across his skin, like waves lapping at the shore. The markings on his skin, on his neck, accentuating his features. The gold and blue accents of his outfit made him look royal. Untouchable. He was ethereal. 

His gaze suddenly met yours as he turned to you, his lips twitching up into a small smile, fondness clear as day in his expression. 

"Indeed. I'll skip the first part of the Ceremony. It was only make-believe nonsense." Being observed so closely by those sunset coloured eyes, so deep and intense, made a heat rise to your cheeks as you glanced away quickly, an unexpected shyness suddenly making itself known. It was overwhelming, being watched so closely, so intimately, so fondly. Your heart raced at the sheer thought of it, your nerves getting the better of you as you refused to meet his eyes, having been caught staring. 

He decided he didn't like that, as he moved closer, turning to you completely before raising his hand to trace your cheek tenderly, bringing your focus back to him. You were his follower, he was your god. But you were also so much more than that. He had realised it only days ago, his heart fluttering at the sight of you interacting so casually with the other lemurians. Like you belonged. Like you were home. And when you turned to him, a bright smile on your lips, your eyes softening when you saw him, he knew he was fucked. It wasn't meant to be this way. You were meant to fall for him, to devote yourself entirely to him. Not the other way around. But he couldn't stop these emotions that flared through him, refusing to disobey what his rationale told him. At that moment, he made a choice. 

"I don't know the details of the ceremony... But it won't be anything like the celebrations on the surface world." He spoke again, his words carrying a certain weight you couldn't decipher,

"Every participant will be blessed by the Ocean." 

"Will I receive your blessing?" You sounded breathless, as your whispered words reached his ears. His lips tugged into a smile once more, his hand coming in front of you, opening up to show a blue fish swimming above his palm, dancing in the swirling energy around it. Your eyes widened slightly in awe at the display.

"Tomorrow's blessing will be for everyone. But it’s only yours at this moment." His eyes closed in concentration as the fish disappeared into his fist, which opened to show a gorgeous shell, sparkling in the remaining sun rays dancing across the ocean floor. 

"This is a true emissary of the God of the Sea. With it in your company, you need not be afraid of the danger that lies ahead." The shell fell from his palm, turning into a necklace in front of your very eyes. You've seen him use magic so many times, but it still surprised you. He moved closer then, his hands holding the necklace delicately as he clasped it around your neck. His fingers were cold against your skin, the brief contact making your breath hitch. You froze where you were, not daring to move as his touch seemed to linger longer than necessary. He was so close. Too close. Not close enough. 

He moved back slightly, snapping you out of your thoughts, a redness now present across his cheeks and ears. 

He cleared his throat slightly before speaking once more, "... I also have a question. It’s a very important one." Taking a deep breath, "are you willing to be my follower?" 

As much as you tried avoiding his gaze earlier, you couldn't look away now. He was hypnotising in the best way, everything seemingly fading away under the moment the two of you were in. 

"Desiring the sincerest worship of mortals... You must offer an irreplicable object." You had no idea how you managed to formulate a full sentence with your heart pounding so fast in your chest, but you did. He carefully reached for your hand, bringing it to his chest until you felt the rapid rhythm of his own heart.

"The Sea God's heart, my heart. Do you want it?" Everything came to a halt in that moment, as your breath left you fully. The hand not cradling your own came to your face, tilting your head up to his. You only managed a weak nod before his lips met yours. 

His lips were smooth, cold to the touch, and relentless in their attack. His arms travelled down to your bare waist, pulling you closer and closer, until you were pressed against him, chest to chest. A small moan left you at the sensation as you pulled him in, arms around his neck. He pressed forward, making you stumble back until you felt the edge of the shrine's altar pressed against your lower back. He pulled away just far enough to start trailing wet kisses from your lips, down to your neck and across your collar bones. The sounds that left your lips were downright sinful as the sensations of his lips and his roaming hands sent shivers down your spine. 

"My beloved follower, will you allow this god to show you what true devotion feels like?" His voice was but a whisper against your ear, spreading goosebumps across your skin. 

"Please." You whimpered out, before strong arms lifted you onto the altar behind you, like you were an offering to your god.

Rafayel moved forward as you moved your legs apart to make room for him, to pull him closer once more. One hand travelled up your thigh, as the other cradled your cheek as he admired the sight in front of him. His most devoted follower, offering herself up to her God. His pupils dilated as they travelled across your form, the vibrant colour of his eyes drowned out. He looked like he was ready to devour you. And devour he did as he pulled you closer, his lips finding your own again in a fiery kiss. His tongue danced against yours leaving you breathless as his hand once again travelled to your waist, pulling you against him. You could feel him through the multitude of layers on his waist, hard and warm, pressed against you. The hand on your thigh travelled higher, spreading your legs wider as his fingers edged closer and closer to where you needed him most. You couldn't help but rock your hips, chasing any sort of friction that would ease the ache between your legs. 

"Hmm... you're not very patient, are you?" His voice was rough, ragged, as he pulled away, his chest heaving. 

“Beg me. Beg your God and your wish shall be granted.” The breathy whisper set your nerves on fire as your breath hitched in your throat. Heat pooled between your thighs as his fingers traced the curves of your thighs, the need burning inside you pushed you to comply with his every demand. 

“Raf- Rafayel, please.” You could barely recognise your own voice with how weak and out of breath it was, but all you got in response was a slight huff. His eyes narrowed as he used one hand to grab your chin, making you face him.

“Tch- You can do better than that.” The intensity of his gaze made you swallow nervously, but you could not look away, hypnotized by the greed, the want, displayed in his eyes. 

“I want you. Pl- Please. Rafayel, claim me. Claim this follower.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, but the waver in it was audible even to your own ears. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

His lips crashed back onto yours, his hands skirting up to pull your top up. He detached himself from you briefly, his eyes taking in the sight in front of him. And what a sight it was, your skin soft, the curves and valleys of your breasts enticing like nothing he’s ever seen before. A shaky exhale left him as he took your top off entirely, tracing his fingers across the tender slope of your waist, before lowering his mouth to leave a trail of kisses across your chest, leading down the peaks of your breasts. You felt yourself tremble in his hold, the growing heat between your legs becoming quickly unbearable. You craved his touch, his warmth, him. In any way he was willing. Your nails dug into the skin on his bare shoulders as the sensation of his lips washed over you, a gasp escaping your lips when his tongue swirled against the sensitive buds, one at a time. The heat of his mouth against your skin, the firm grasp on your waist pulling you closer, his body so close to yours. It was almost too much. 

Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his still clothed erection. A whine left him, his own hips shuddering against yours, chasing that sweet friction. His patience seemed to run thin as he quickly undid your belt, pulling down the flowy trousers, until you were left in just your undergarments. The heat brewing in his eyes threatened to burn you alive.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He whispers against your lips before kneeling down before your spread legs, fingers dancing along your skin until they rest under your thigh, pulling you closer. To have a god, your god, kneeling before you was exhilarating. His lips followed the curve of your thigh, kissing, biting, leaving marks. Marks that show that you’re his. His. His follower. His devotee. His beloved. Red marks blossomed on your skin, painting a picture of want, of sin and lust, of desire. Your chest tightened as he got closer to your heat, pants and whimpers tumbling out of your lips as your hand settled in his hair, tousling and tugging in desperation. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” His words were but a whisper as he tugged your underwear down, the wetness that had gathered there obvious, making him suck in a heavy breath. 

And then his mouth connected to the most sensitive part of your body, making you arch your back. The warmth of his tongue licking, proding, exploring your heat sent shivers across your entire body, your thighs twitching to close, but the grip he had on them held you in place. 

He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his mouth, sending vibrations of pleasure straight through you. You tasted divine, like ambrosia fit for a god. Sweet, addicting, perfect. He knew he was ruined. You were his downfall. He knew that with the first taste of you, he could never let you go now. His follower. His offering. The sweetest offering he could ever receive. 

His tongue delved into your tight heat and with every thrust, his nose caught your clit. Your voice echoed through the large hall, every moan, every whimper, every scream, amplified. 

“Louder. Let them hear who your god is.” He said, moving away just for a moment, before diving back in, sucking and licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, his long, marked fingers tracing your slick folds, ready to fill you. 

“Raf- oh god, Rafayel, I- please-” Wrecked is the best word to describe how you sounded, your words spurring him on to work his fingers into your tight entrance one at a time. They were so long, reaching so deep. You dared a glance at him, only to meet his dark gaze. The sight of him, kneeling, mouth on you, fingers working in and out of you, was enough to bring you to the edge, the tight coil in your stomach winding, tighter and tighter. Your legs trembled around him, and you arched your back, catching yourself with one hand as you fell backwards, the sensation overcoming your entire body as the coil finally snapped. A loud, high-pitched moan left your mouth, static filling your limbs, a haze filling your mind. The only coherent thought you could muster was his name.

Rafayel. 

His pace didn’t slow as wet, filthy sounds filled the air. His own eyes were closed, taking in everything. Your laboured breathing, your desperate moans, your flavour. He cleaned you up with his tongue, not wasting a single drop of you, his own mind fuzzy, unfocused, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter as you tried to squirm away, pleasure quickly turning to overstimulation. 

Granting you some relief from his relentless attack, he pulled away, leaning his head on the curve of your thigh, the hungry glint still present in his eyes as he studied you. The sight of you, hair messy, cheeks stained a permanent red, gaze lowered, dark, sent heat straight to his groin. With a parting kiss to the skin on the junction of your leg, he stood, leaning forward and trapping you on the altar. 

Your eyes were half closed, dark, as you met his gaze. His skin was as flushed as yours, you noticed, as he leaned in close, nose grazing yours, before pulling you in for a desperate kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, but you didn’t care, pulling him closer by winding your arms around his neck, as his own arm wound around your waist, pulling you in until you could feel him. 

His still-clothed erection brushed against your sensitive core, pulling more sinful sounds from you as he rocked against you. Your hands quickly travelled across his chest, down his muscled abdomen, before reaching his belt, undoing it with a growing need. You weren’t done, and neither was he. The fabrics around his waist fell away one by one, until he was bare to you, his skin hot, sweaty, against your touch. His hips shuddered when his dick finally ground against you, no barriers between you now. 

You separated to catch your breath, glancing down as he moved to leave more marks and kisses against your neck and chest. His length was impressive, thick, veiny, and an angry red from being neglected for so long. 

“I want you.” His words were heavy with need, hips grinding into you, seeking friction.

“Then take me.” Your reply was met with him pulling back, one hand coming to hold your chin, the intensity behind his eyes sending a newfound heat down your body.

“Keep your eyes on me.” 

He didn’t give you a choice on that matter, the grip on your chin stopping any attempt to move, as he sank into you. Inch by inch, he was enveloped in your tight heat, your walls clenching around him, adjusting to the stretch, which probably would’ve been painful if not for how wet you were. His eyes studied you, watching every little microexpression as your features twisted with pleasure, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in a broken moan. His own breathing hitched in his throat, a low groan rumbling in his chest. 

And when he finally bottomed out, he could barely breathe, waiting, letting you adjust, but also allowing for a moment for him to gather himself. He was right. You’d be his downfall. He knew he'd never have enough of you. 

He reached impossibly deep within you, connected in a way that you could feel every quiver, every throb, sending jolts of ecstasy through you. His pace started of slow, shallow, before his mouth met yours once more. He pulled out until just the head of his dick remained in you, before slamming back in, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, as if he was losing himself in you, in the feeling of your heat. The slapping of skin against skin echoed across the temple, each slide of him into you emphasized. Your combined juices spilled across your thighs with every thrust, the sensations building and building, sobs and pleas spilling from your mouth as he traced your neck with his mouth, biting, kissing, sucking. 

A broken cry left you as you came for the second time, your entire body trembling in his hold, clenching around him. An unadulterated groan left him as he felt you squeeze down on him, his movement quickly turning sloppy, frantic, chasing his own release. You could feel him twitch inside you, driving into you even harder, as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss. 

You could feel the moment he spilled inside you, filling you, the desperate thrusts making both of your releases drip out of you as you both rode out the high. 

Your thighs trembled around him in the aftershocks even long after he stopped moving, as you both caught your breaths, his face moving to nuzzle into the curve of your neck as he held you close. Your hands ran through his mussed hair, detangling the knots that formed, his lips leaving slow, soft kisses on your marked skin. 

A comfortable silence filled the air, as you both settled into each other's touch, coming back to the present slowly. 

“Are you okay?” He murmured, caressing your thigh with his hand, massaging the sore muscles. 

“Yeah,” You breathe out, a tired but satisfied tone in your voice, “more than okay.” 

“Good. Let’s get cleaned up. Join me in my chamber tonight?” The softness in his words made your heart melt, his gentle touch grounding. He sounded nothing like the benevolent god he was, instead his demeanour painted a picture of a doting lover. 

“Of course.”

[existingtm]

A lot of you are gonna hate this, but Dadbastian and Sebaciel are fandomized readings based on the same canon undertones. This is because Sebastian fits the Gothic trope of the parentified predator.

Curiously, his role doesn’t just follow demonic tropes but also takes on a vampiric form. He’s nurturing, yet preys upon the one he nurtures. It’s very reminiscent of a vampire siring a human, yet the end goal in this case is demonic, Sebastian aiming to win their game and claim Ciel’s soul.

Of course Sebastian is perverse. Of course his and Ciel's relationship breaches the boundaries of normalcy. It’s predator and prey, parent and child, sexuality through consumption. 

Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic embodies much of the Lot complex. Debbie Joyce Chung goes into depth on this concept in her article "SUCH BLOOD, SUCH POWER": THE LOT COMPLEX IN ANNE RICE'S INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE. To quote some key parts:

“Broadly speaking, both the Gothic tradition and the Lot complex emphasize desire and transgression, subversion and the unconscious, doubling and projection. ‘The horror’ in eighteenth-century Gothic literature often pertains to incest, homosexuality, revolution, the pollution of lineage, and the disruption of linear succession of property” (173). While we’re mostly talking about transgressive sexuality, this excerpt has an interesting note about doubling and projection. Sebastian is absolutely a double for both the twins and their father, projected straight from O!Ciel’s own image.

“[V]ampires procreate, like Lot and his daughters, through a form of incest that involves penetration and the exchange of bodily fluids (blood) with their offspring. Their blood symbolizes life, family, and racial ties; it is the fluid of reproduction, the seed of the father” (174). We see blood and consumption take on this sexual undertone a lot throughout Kuroshitsuji media. While vampires procreate more directly, it’s interesting that Sebastian is forming Ciel in his own image.

“Through vampires the Lot complex transcends normal male-female gender categories, for vampires do not engage in genital sex and possess a relatively gender-free perspective” (174). The relevance of this is also pretty evident. Ciel and Sebastian are often queered from a gender perspective, whether in form of dress, pronoun or title use, mannerisms, etc. I would also argue that Sebastian is asexual (I even have a whole analysis drafted about why that is), and Ciel could be read as such too. Sexuality between them takes place in wholly inhuman terms (feeding and ownership).

Hold onto your hats, because I’m about to quote a quote within a quote when Chung describes how Claudia “is simultaneously innocent and monstrous, a literal and literary construct of our culture's anxious vacillations ‘between perceptions of children as little angels and as little monsters [. . .] sexually attuned, sometimes even predatory’ (Warner qtd. in Edmundson 34)” (175). We can see this perception forced on Ciel throughout Kuroshitsuji. This perception is reserved for children and women, once again demonstrating the queered element. Not only is Ciel the victim, he’s also the corrupted young maiden of the narrative, innocent and monstrous all at once.

“Incest is not limited to the physical: Lestat and Louis commit ‘emotional incest’ upon Claudia as she ‘grows up’; to them she is a magnificent and deadly ‘magic doll’ upon which they can lavish presents and affection (Interview 103). They dress her exquisitely in the latest children's fashions, disguising her as ‘a golden-haired child, a Holy Innocent, a little girl’ to fool her sentimental mortal victims, usually kindly, admiring adults (Interview 116)” (175–176). This one’s also pretty self-explanatory. Sebastian takes far more pleasure in dolling Ciel up than would be normal, especially when Ciel uses the guise as a means of deceiving enemies.

“Interview follows the Lot myth's subversive pattern of the powerless achieving power, but it is a Gothic novel, so Lot strikes back in a horrific return of the repressed. Nothing more is heard of the biblical Lot after the incest episode, but Lestat twice reappears to terrorize and punish his rebellious offspring. Both of his attempts are thwarted by enormous fires, reminiscent of the purgation of Sodom and Gomorrah by fire and brimstone, that enable the culprits to escape” (177). Notably, Toboso utilizes purgation by fire often in Kuroshitsuji, which doesn’t necessarily implicate the Lot complex, but it does, intentionally or not, mimic the biblical punishment.

“The incest between Lestat and Claudia is therefore a Gothic version of the incest between Lot and his daughters. It is committed not for the positive end of ensuring the survival of the human race, but for the negative ends of revenge and domination, rape and patricide. . . . Claudia's story has neither happy endings nor beginnings. Forced reenactment of the original incest is Claudia's weapon of vengeance, expropriation/preservation of the father's seed/blood her goal. The pattern of victimization and incest comes full circle, as Louis senses beforehand” (177–178). Another part of the Lot complex is the ultimate turning-back of this predation on the predator. I’m curious to see if Toboso will adopt this as well, but we’ll just have to wait and see. I personally think it would be really interesting if rather than condemning Ciel to lose his soul, or alternatively saving his soul, Toboso instead turns Sebastian’s own predation back on him.

“There is no escape from Sodom and Gomorrah, but the fascination of Interview, like that of Lot's wife, is that it looks back to them longingly, and envisions as strangely beautiful and passionate and tragic, the doomed cities and their now immortalized inhabitants” (180). This conclusion would make for an apt summary of Toboso’s story. As Louis narrates his Lot family tragedy, so does Sebastian—immortal, horrid, otherworldly, monstrous, beautiful.

Kuroshitsuji embodies many Gothic themes. It makes sense that Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic blurs between familial and sexual. This is super common in the Gothic, but I think Kuroshitsuji’s Western audience, for the most part, isn’t really in touch with the genre’s history. As such, a more fandom-typical interpretation emerges. If the reader dislikes taboo themes, they choose the safety of the found family trope. If the reader likes engaging with taboo themes but more from a fandom perspective than an analytical one, they may romanticize the dynamic to suit fandom shipping tropes. Either way, the original character dynamic is lost to some extent.

Sebastian and Ciel’s identities become more entangled as the story progresses. We’ll likely continue to see their relationship cross boundaries of normalcy, and as the end nears, something will have to give. Who will be the monster? Who will be the victim? Will anyone be able to escape this enticing hell they’ve created? I can’t wait to find out.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hi! Recently I became curious about how ancient people hunted in the world of TwistedWonderland.🧔🏹🦣

If they didn't have magic in Monster Au, they used their wits and ingenuity. Animal hunting and fishing🦣 🏹 🐟. Pits, a stone maze so for catching fish and cattle.

You can see the reaction to the methods and techniques of trapping characters.

Don't mind me trying to work my way into a good groove and answering asks in my inbox 😅

It’s simply amazing what human ingenuity can do to get a task done, especially when it comes to surviving out in nature! Throw these craft humans into a world of monsters and magic, and you pretty much have what most epics and legends in our world describe mythical creatures and feats of strength. 😆

Once Yuu arrives in Twisted Monsterland, they may start seeing old paintings depicting clashes between humans and monsters. Ranging from spears and swords mistakenly melding into flesh like malformed limbs and claws to wearing leather and gleaming silver armor mistaken as insectoid carapaces, it’s no wonder humans were used in stories to scare little children into being good. These ancient humans looked positively monstrous—perhaps even more so than any monster in existence. Perhaps that is why so many were both terrified and confused as to why this scrunkly of a creature calling itself a human didn’t even match the few surviving paintings from a bygone era.

Pair that with the stories told on how ancient humans would hunt for food or built traps to capture monsters and comparing that to how Yuu looks? It’s easy for the monsters to brush off these abilities of magicless humans as being anything more than just mere fantasy or exaggeration. There’s simply no way a human can build traps and webs like spider monsters, create fire that lasts for days without smoke, or chase their prey for days on end without breaking a sweat!

Turns out, those myths are more true than the monsters realize. Especially if their resident human just so happens to have survivalist training under their belt…

///Camp Vargas///

“Uh…why are you digging a hole in the ground?”

“Making a fire pit.”

Ace glanced at Yuu as they continued to shovel more dirt out of a relatively large hole. “So…if you’re building a pit, then why did you make a smaller hole right here?” he asked, pointing at said opening in the dirt. “And if you’re building a fire, why aren’t you making one above ground? Are you trying to bury it or something?”

The shovel broke the last of the dirt wall between the holes before Yuu straightened up, gathering several long branches they’d collected with several large cuts of logs and starting to set them up at an angle. “Oh, I’m still building one above ground. I’m just making two different ones.” Pointing at the hole they’d just dug out, they said, “We call this one a ‘Dakota Fire Hole’. Typically this one is used for outdoor cooking, since it produces little smoke and doesn’t need a lot of fuel.” Setting some sticks and tinder inside the larger of the two holes, the took a piece of flint and began striking it with a stone. Soon a small yet hot fire was blazing inside the hole, just barely licking the air outside of the hole before settling down into a steady flicker. “The second hole generates airflow, which keeps the fire fueled with oxygen so it’ll burn longer.”

“Then what’s the other one for?”

“A self-feeding campfire.” They began loading chopped logs on both sides of the now V-shaped structure they’d built. “It uses gravity to drop new logs to keep the fire going, which means it’ll last all night. Pretty handy so you don’t have to keep getting up to replenish the log pile!”

One ear lowering in confusion, Ace stared at Yuu as they struck up another inferno on the bottom log. Somehow the fire didn’t crawl or spread to the rest of the logs. “…how exactly did you learn this?” he finally asked.

“Survivalist training. Why do you ask?”

Snap! Twang! “Fynaaah!?” Fwoosh!

“Uh oh. Grim! I told you to stay away from there! That’s where I set up the snare trap.”

“Why did you set it up so close to the tent?!” the chimera yowled as students stared in shock and surprise.

“To keep away intruders.” A sudden cacophony of clattering and clanging rang out, followed by a startled mix of a canine yelp and deer-like squeal before a thud hit the ground. “Epel! Are you okay?!”

“What is this?!” the einfield snarled, twisting and trying to untangle himself from the string of empty cans and bells. “Git it offa me!”

“Hold still, or you’ll strangle your wings! Ace, could you get Grim down for me? The snare hook is on the ground behind the tree on the tent’s left side.”

As Yuu went to free Epel from the new contraption—which Ace heard them comment was their ‘alarm system’—he shook his head in confusion and disbelief. What was even happening? Did Yuu pick up some strange trick from one of the spider monster students when he wasn’t looking? “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what other traps you set up,” he finally called out, warily looking around for more strings and rope near his large rabbit feet. “I don’t want to get tangled up in anything like those two did!”

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t have time to set up any other snares or alarms yet,” Yuu called out, carefully freeing Epel’s arm before working on freeing the rest of his body. “You’re safe, so long as you-”

Shoof! “WAH!?!” a familiar loud voice screamed, the sound echoing so far that it reverberated through the trees. WHUD!! “Urk…HUMAN!!! What foul trickery is this?!?”

“…oh, right. I forgot about the pit trap I dug earlier,” Yuu said as multiple eyes stared at them.

“Why in Twisted Wonderland would you need to build something like that?!” Riddle all but shouted once it sank in what just happened.

“Hey, if a bear comes rampaging around the camp because you guys aren’t putting your food away, don’t come crying to me if there’s no pit trap to keep it busy!”

Needless to say, after everyone was rescued, no one could fathom how Yuu learned such archaic—if frighteningly deceptive—trapping methods for a camping trip. It wasn’t until the last night of Camp Vargas that they understood why when the remaining students used the trap to buy themselves some time from the “beast” before running to the swamp.

/-------------/

Now of course the defensive traps were pretty impressive, Ruggie had to admit that much. But traps that catch fish with little to no effort? Even he was impressed by the speed at which Yuu was able to harvest so many fish in one sitting, and with a simple stick and twine “fence”? Let alone the basketful of fish they’d caught by hand after making a shady spot with a tarp propped over the water!

“Sure, I could use a fishing rod if I wanted,” Yuu commented as they continued whittling away at the tip of a sturdy branch. “A net would also come in handy, but since we’re going to be here for a short time, I wouldn’t be able to make a decent one to use it effectively.” Jabbing their carving knife over at the fire pits they had dug earlier, they added, “Besides, if I don’t adapt and use what I have available, then I can lose out on a good food source and my chances of survival are slim to none.”

“Huh. Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed, the leucrocuta looking between his catch and Yuu’s. The human’s collection was quickly catching up to Floyd’s, which was surprising since he’d stopped earlier due to boredom. “This came from that survival training thing you mentioned earlier, right?”

“Mm-hm! I can teach you a few things I learned if you want.”

“Shehehehe~! Sounds great! Just one question though: what’cha making? Some kind of walking stick?”

“Oh, this? It’s going to be a spear.”

“…spear?” The word sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why as he tried to examine it. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen any other monster use or make before. “What’s it for?”

“It’s used for different things, like defense or attacking.” Cutting a few more chips off, Yuu stood up and examined their work. They had whittled one end of the branch to the point it was needle-sharp, a sight that weirdly sent chills down his spine when he looked at it. “I made this one specifically to go spear fishing. Here, I’ll show you!”

As they walked into the water, he expected the human to immediately strike into the water like they had when they did the shadow fishing. However, they simply stood still, eyes locked onto the water’s surface with the spear raised over their shoulder. He watched in silence, instinctively knowing that Yuu was hunting for their prey yet not understanding how this would work. Suddenly, they tensed, their shoulders tightening as they raised their spear higher in a smooth motion. For the briefest moment, he swore he saw the human with the needle-sharp arm in his history book instead of Yuu, his heart leaping in his throat at the vivid imagery. Before he could react, the spear was sent flying forward-

Splosh!

And struck the riverbed, Yuu immediately rushing forward to grab the upright tool before pulling it out. To his shock and utter amazement, the spear had pierced the body of a large trout, still flopping even as Yuu carried it back to shore with a triumphant grin on their face. Their smile faded to one of concern as they asked, “You okay, Ruggie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Chuckling nervously, Ruggie uttered, “Uh…you could say that.” A ghost of the past maybe, he thought as he picked up the baskets. “Hey, uh, why don’t we go ahead and cook these? I think we’ve got enough!”

“Oh. Sure, sounds good. Oh! I know a few tricks to preserve the meat for later!”

“Great! Just…do me a favor and not point that spear thing at anyone, okay?”

////////

I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more that could be said or done, but you get the picture. XD Hope you all enjoy!

[grapenamjams]

Trust In The Dark

Characters: Sylus x Fem. Reader

Genre: NSFW SMUT

Synopsis: After spending three days in a palace with invisible servents. You begin to forget why the Zephyr west wind brought you here. As you blow out the last candle pitching your room into full darkness one night. You are reminded of the reason as you hear your husbands deep voice emerges from the night.

Words: 4,284

Contains: porn with plot, Forced marriage, probably out of character sylus, sylus is the god Eros, Virgin reader, first time sex, nipple sucking (f. Receiving), oral (f. Receiving), mentions of fem. Overstim, P in V Intercourse, mutual orgasm, pet names (my sweet, I think there is one sweetie in there, my lady, my love, little bird)

A/N: first time writing sylus please be nice to meee T-T

I’ve wanted to write an Eros and psyche myth inspired fic for awhile now and I thought sylus fit perfectly! So here we are

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The myth: Eros and psyche, a Greek myth told throughout time. Psyche was a humble maiden who was said to be as or even more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. When the goddess of love heard the mortals were worshiping psyche instead; in a jealous rage Aphrodite sent her son Eros to shoot psyche with one of his arrows, demanding that the maiden fall in love with the most terrible monster. When Eros saw psyche he fell in love with her beauty but also her humble kind heart. He struck himself with his own arrow. Completing his mother’s wishes. Just as it was told by the oracle psyche went to visit, she was destined to marry a monster the gods even fear. Carried by the wind to a magical palace in the sky. Psyche had everything she could ask for but there was one thing that was asked of her in return. she could only meet her husband in the darkness of night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Was the palace to your liking?”

He hears your quick intake of breath and the rustle of fabric indicating you had turned around to where you heard his deep voice emerge from the open balcony doors. Sylus didn’t mean to frighten you. But when you were both covered in darkness, there wasn’t much room for subtlety for when he made his presence known.

“Who-“ you pause “Youre him…” your sweet voice comes from a couple of steps ahead of him. His heart flutters at the sound, being able to hear it up close for the first time. but at the same time his heart pangs at the sound of the slight quiver in it. Sylus manages a light chuckle at your statement. “Your husband? Yes, that would be me.” Sylus smiles although you wouldn’t be able to see it. He liked how it sounded, husband. Yours.

The chuckle that he let out seemed to wrap around you in dark tendrils. Inciting you to seek out the source of the sound although it had sent a shiver down your back. But you quickly realized it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. “Have you come to kill me?” The question leaves your mouth without thought .

Sylus is not surprised you would ask that. The whole predicament that you found yourself in, made him understand your nervous thoughts and he sought to provide you comfort. “Now my sweet lady, what type of husband would I be if I did so?” He tries for a joke in his gravely voice that’s seems to take your breath away. but when he didn’t hear a reaction, he sighed.

“No. Im not here to kill you. You are my wife, I’ll never bring harm to you, I swear it” his chest aches at just the thought of you being harmed in some way, the pain increasing at the thought of him being the cause.

His deep voice seems to have more affect in the dark. Like it was the only thing wrapping around you,Causing your skin to rise and your heart to stutter at the sound of sincerity and determination in his words.

He takes a cautious step towards where you are. “I simply came here tonight to introduce myself and to see how you were…settling in” he sees your outline shift, thankfully not away from him. But he sensed you knew he had gotten closer. From where his words left his mouth, you imagined he was quite taller than you.

“After three days since I’ve arrived you’ve come to see me?” Your voice steady. Sylus is amused at your bravery in questioning him. he was a stranger in the middle of your bedchamber in the dark.

“I had things I needed to… settle. before being able to see you. I also wanted to give you a chance to settle in. Leaving your home to be married off to a complete stranger… I knew you must have been frightened.”

The care in his tone makes you recognize his consideration for you. further easing your pounding heart. But still you proceeded with caution. “Usually, introductions are not done in the dark” squinting as if that would help reveal the tall stranger.

Again the tendrils of a chuckle wrap around you. “Yes, usually they arnt” but his light words dip with a sigh. “however all of our future meetings will be like this. I’ll only come to visit you at night…that is if you want me to visit” sylus chest constricts at the last part.

You were already in this unwanted marriage with him. Even if you didn’t know it was the only way he could protect you from marrying a Fowler creature. He didn’t want to push you further into something you didn’t want. Although, he desperately let himself hope you would allow him to be in your presence. But if not he could be content with you being safe in the palace he created for you. watching you from afar.

“I don’t understand, Why only at night?” Unease rushes through your body. Remembering the crumbly ancient voice uttering your fate. Sylus senses your emotional shift, clenching a hand against his side, restraining himself to provide a soothing touch.

After a pause, his low voice reaches you in the dark. “to keep you safe. You can’t look at me, you’ll- If you were to see me…, our marriage, us. It will all be gone” he dosnt want to think about that outcome. The thought sears a wound so great into it chest making him hold his breath.

‘If he wants to meet in the dark then does that mean what the oracle said is true?’ The thought races through your mind. But his words have left you feeling wrapped in assurances that he means you no harm. In fact he wants to protect you.“But that -“

“My love, please youll have to trust me” his voice is raised slightly but in a manner that sounds concerned and desperate. Not angry or malicious. He knows this is a big ask, you have no reason too trust him after all.

You hear him step closer. “a monster. A being the gods even fear. That’s who the oracle told me I’d marry”the words leave your mouth. Stopping his advance. Something twists in his chest, he couldn’t deny it. the oracle spoke truth. He lets out a breath. “She is quite dramatic. But I won’t deny her words.” Sylus reaches a hand out, his finger tips brushing against yours. Making you jump slightly at the sudden action. “If you let me?” He says softly, Electricity jolting through him at the slightest touch.

You hold your breath as his fingers go over your hand, intertwining with your fingers. Fingers, palm, a hand. A human hand. Your heart picks up once more. No paws, claws or talons. His hands were large and surprisingly soft, except for the callouses on his fingertips, his grip firm.

“The gods may fear me, yes” you don’t realize how much closer he’s gotten until his whispered voice could be heard between the two of you. “But I am not the type of monster, you think I am” he turns your hand, placing the back of it against his cheek. You can’t help but let out a gasp at the sensation of soft skin. He brings your other hand to cup his face.

Releasing your hands in order for them to touch freely. Sylus shivers at your tentative caresses. Fingers moving along his face. His set narrow nose, eyelids, sharp angled jaw and nicely formed lips. He certainly felt human. Not at all a fury, sharp toothed, horned monster you had conjured in your mind, while pacing the floor of your room when you got back home from seeing the oracle.

Your hands trail down his neck. Your eyes widening in the dark at the feel of his firm exposed chest. The fabric himation wrap he wore, allowing parts of his chest and torso to be bare. You swear you hear him let out a shaky breath. He felt human…very human.

hands go over his broad shoulders. When they dip over to his back, that is when he sucks in a breath, his body stiffening. His hands hold your wrists bringing them back to his face.

Unknown to you, if you had gone further down his back you’d feel the softness of woven feathers making up beautiful white wings. His lips brush against your knuckles gently. “It seems this is all i have to offer you. Vauge words and a body shouded in darkness. But know i have already given you my heart and unending love and devotion. If you accept it of course”.

The stranger before you had provided you a home.a palace with everything you could ever ask for. Your favorite dish brought to you by invisible servents before you finished uttering the words ‘I’m hungry’. But most of all even in darkness you belived his words. Felt his sincerity. The stranger before you was your husband offering his heart.

Your hands pressed against his chest as you drew closer. Tilting your head up whispering a question “what is your name?” Sylus takes this as your first steps to accepting him and it almost makes him smile. If not for the guilt he felt at keeping another part of himself from you. “that’s another thing I can not give to you, little bird.” he sighs, his knuckles caressing down your cheek. He couldn’t have you knowing his identity, for your protection and the protection of his heart. “But You may call me husband and maybe with time, beloved”. His thumb rubs your chin.

Despite being disappointed once again at the fact that he has to keep parts of himself hidden from you. You still willing to accept it, for you felt safe and a sense of unexplainable belonging with him.

“I can’t call you husband” you whispered as a response.

Sylus pauses his caressing, that searing ache returning. Did you decide you couldn’t accept him? Would he even be able to let you go, if you did? “Why not?” His hand cups your face. wanting to touch you a bit longer before you stepped away from him. But you didn’t, you instead stepped impossibly closer.

Your heart begins to quicken but not by fear this time. “We haven’t kissed to seal our marriage” you say then hear him let out a chuckle, the same one that seemed to wrap around you and spread through your body as dark electricity. Your sweet innocent words pulling at his heart. “In that, you are right, my love” the hand that cups your cheek guides you to his mouth. the ghost of his lips against yours. “How careless of me to overlook such a thing”

His fingers go to your chin tilting it up. In the dark you still close your eyes, waiting for him to close the distance. The wait felt like an eternity. Only Breathes touching skin. “Let’s rectify that,so you may call me yours for eternity” he murmurs. finally pressing his lips to yours in the most gentle manner. still giving you a chance to pull away. Instead your hands clutched at his fabric going over one shoulder, pressing your mouth more firmly to his.

Sylus lets out a shaky sigh of relief at your acceptance. Pushing forward, capturing your mouth properly against his own. Everything inside him melts at the feel of your lips. They tasted sweeter than ambrosia. He swears you are the source from which is made,the fountain of immortality he would gladly come to drink from time and time again. Another shiver goes through him when he feels your hands move against his chest once more. He deepens the kiss to keep his shaky moan from escaping. Your hands continue lowering. down to his stomach causing him to break the kiss with a groan. “Are you still not convinced?” He asks, breathless.

You smile slightly, “I may still need another inspection” and he can’t decide to groan or chuckle at your playful words. He grabs your hands in his. Pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Trust me my love. If you continued, I would have reacted like any man would with his wife” He interlaces your hands together. Straightening himself up trying to find his usual composure once more. Pushing away the oncoming thoughts of pleasure and desire from his mind. He knows tonight had been a lot for you.

“So why don’t you?” Your voice cuts through. He does chuckle as this, desire shoots through his body once more briefly. “Eager, little bird?” In one swift movement he picks you up, placing you on his hip.

You let out a slight yelp at the sudden position. Arms clinging around his neck to steady yourself as he walks. you begin to stammer. Your brain rushing with thoughts unfit for a lady. “Relax,” there is a smile in his voice so close to your ear. “Tonight I simply wanted to ease your mind about our marriage…about me.”

He bends down and gently places you on the bed. “We will do things at your pace. There is no rush.” hands caress your jaw once more before his hand drops away.

without hesitation you reach out in the dark. Relief finds you when your hand catches on his finger tips. “I want you to…atleast stay”

He lets out a breath trying to expel the affection rising in his chest at your words. He bends down towards you, “gladly”

~ ~ ~

Night after night he comes to you followed by a gentle breeze that feels like it’s made by angel wings. The first couple of nights, you two spoke about everything. The night making each word more sacred. Locking them away inside your hearts.

When both of you found yourselves in bed. Slight Touches felt heightened leaving both with shaky breathing between the two. His fingers would glide against your warm skin. Your sides, arms and back with such gentle strokes. As if you were the most fragile sculpture in the world and he was afraid he would harm you. Your own hands, followed the curve of his firm muscles. Memorizing him in the dark. For No matter how much you tried, he never stayed long enough to see him in the light.

As the nights continued even sylus hoped that Apollo would not wake to move the sun. Feeling like each time he left, a piece of him stayed under the covers with you.

Gradually. The night came where words turned into uneven breathes and touches turned more assertive. You had told him you wanted more and he was not one to deny his wife. For where he was lacking he wanted to make up for it in any area he could. So he kisses you with passion. His mouth going to your jaw, moving down your neck. Placing a mark on you, he wishes he could see. But knowing you would see it on yourself in the morning made him bite you again. His thoughts becoming hazy with your sounds and scent. Kissing you further down with teasing sweet words against your skin.

He removes your nightgown, large palms roaming your body like the back of of his hand. He lets out a groan, at how responsive your body is to him. A hand takes your breast before placing his mouth on it, warm tongue swirling the right nipple before sucking.

your hands go through his hair, back arching at the sensation, pressing your chest further into his mouth. Inciting him. His other hand works on your other breast, rubbing and tugging at the nipple between his fingers. Before palming the soft flesh. Sylus drinks up every single reaction you give him. Every breath, shiver, and moan. He feels like he is going drunk on your pleasure. Switching over to give the other the same attention.

When he is satisfied with his efforts. His mouth continues his journey of reverence to you. Leaving opened mouthed kisses on your stomach and sides. Hoping his Affectionate Words sear into your skin just as the love bites he leaves on you.

When he reaches your center. Sylus is hot with desire, it’s almost primal the way he needs to taste you. He nips at your thighs, opening you up for him. And he almost loses it at not being able to see you presented to him, but smelling your intoxicating scent. He curses at his predicament but he finds solace in the fact that he is the first and only one to taste you.

“W-what are you doing near that place?” You ask hesitantly. Never being intimate with a man before you are confused as to why his face is between your most private parts.

He chuckles against your skin. “Trust me, I’m exactly where I am supposed to be, sweetie” he puts your legs over his shoulders, pulling you towards his face. hearing you gasp. “Relax, just focus on making those sweet noises for me, little bird” his rubs down your thigh “if you want me to stop just tell me, okay? But I’m sure you’ll be enjoying. Every second. Of it” with each pause sylus plants a kiss down your thigh until his mouth is right at your center.

He waits a moment to hear any objects. But when there isn’t any. his tongue licks up your heat fully, making him moan into you. “You taste sweeter than nectar, my love” he goes in again but his hands tighten their hold. “Better than any banquet the gods can hold on Olympus” his words muffled.

He curses, he had known that once he had a taste of you. How could he have anything else ever again? How could he possibly leave you when all he wants to do is be between your thighs for nights on end. His tongue lapping at you, creating patterns that has your hands grabbing and pulling at his hair, moaning into the darkness making them even sweeter and precious to him.

He wishes he could see you, how your beautiful face is when your body is filled with pleasure. Pleasure he is providing you. Sylus swirls and sucks on your clit. Pressing his face further into you. He moans against you. In this room, in this palace he had made for you in the sky. He lets himself say praises against you, Wanting to become your most loyal worshiper. Yes, within these walls hidden from those who would want nothing more than to take him away from

You. He worships you like the goddess you are.

He leaves you shuddering and spasming as you hit your climax. His mouth not stopping, in turn he grips harder. Eating you out, until the tingle of overstimulation pluses through you. You tell him wait, and with reluctance sylus leaves his meal but not without a last kiss to your clit. Making you shiver. Sylus would’ve kept going, making you come over and over. tasting you all night. But he could hold off for now. He would take his time with you, build you up, pushing back against your limit each time.

His Lips and a hand trail up your body. His palm resting on your chest feeling it move with uneven breathes making him smile at being able to leave you in such a blissed out state. From your chest his large hand moves to cup the back of your neck, rubbing the tender spot gently before pressing a soft kiss to you.

“From how you sounded just now. Id say you enjoyed” the teasing tilt in his voice makes you let out a breathy laugh as you nod. “You can say that, yes”

you bring his lips back to you, cutting off his gravely chuckle turning it into a throaty moan. His tongue licking your bottom lip asking for permission to enter. His hand at the nape of your neck leaves to squeeze your waist. Pulling your body flushed against him. His obvious display of need pressing against you, covered solely by a fabric wrap.

In time with his kisses your hips unconsciously move. His hand grips your waist with a broken groan. His body tightening with Desire. “Careful now,”a warning wrapped in a dark midnight voice. Only enticing you further. Your hands go across his chest learning these past nights, it is a sensitive spot for him.

He lets out an unsteady breath. “You’re making it difficult for me to take my time with you, my lady”

Your Fingers Going over the ridges of his sculpted torso. “Please, husband” the begging whisper has him desperately taking ahold of his restraint. The ropes threads ripping one by one along with you each inch your hand goes down his front. pushing away the fabric hiding him from you.

If sylus could see your eyes he would’ve seen how they widened at the feel of him in your hand. You go down the length of him. hard and throbbing. He sucks in a breath not helping but to move his hips to get more friction from your hand. wanting you to feel the desire and need he has for you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you fill with nervousness at what’s to come. You can’t see him but you can most definitely feel his size-“Will it fit?” Falls from your lips before you realize what you said. A amused light laugh rumbles in his chest. “Trust me it will” his hand goes through your hair “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry”.

He presses a kiss to your jaw and neck as he lifts himself up in order to hover above you. His body is tense with need, pulling on that rope inside of him, holding on to his control.

he positions himself at your entrance. Telling you gently that you may feel pain but to focus on him. His voice is filled with such care when he Makes you promise you’ll tell him to stop if it hurts to much. When he is satisfied with your reassurance he places his mouth on yours, hoping to distract you when he pushes himself into you ever so slowly into your awaiting warmth.

Sylus lets out a groan against your mouth, eyebrows furrowing in effort to keep ahold of that taught rope of restraint. The feel of your walls around him, taking him in inch by inch, was testing his limits. You felt like everything he ever wanted and more. He doesn’t understand how he has lived centuries without you. Consuming his every thought and cell. Like you had given him life but you were also his undoing.

You tell him to stop to give you a moment to get used to him. he was only halfway in. His mouth didnt leave yours as his hand finds yours in the dark, fingers gilding down your forearm until he tightens his hand on yours. Putting it beside your head, he encourages and praises you. You squeeze his large hand, asking him to continue.

The delicate way he is moving into you is so intimate and powerful. When you both finally join together. It’s like there was burst of light, placing a new star in the sky.

He lets go of your lips his breathing ragged above you. He asks if you’re alright, and with a breathless confirmation from you. he places your arm around his neck so your bodies are as close as they can be. Every inch left untouched.

Sylus begins to slowly move his hips. His thrusts slow and mindful. Holding on tight to his restraint. Wanting to take care of you, taking higher priority than his own needs.

What would he give to see you in the light in this moment. maybe the wrath of the gods would be worth it to be able to get a glimpse at your beautiful pleasured face under him When he picks up the pace at your request. Attentive to any sounds of discomfort but all he hears is your moans in the darkness.

Maybe, just maybe if he whispers his name against your ear To hear it on your sweet lips when you cry out in ecstasy. You would still want him despite knowing what he was. He was tempted. Oh so tempted, but as the last thread of the rope to his restraint snapped he focused solely on you.

He couldn’t believe he was actually here in this moment with you. Being the one to feel you, to hear you, have you all to himself. Having you Mind, body and soul fuels his desire and love for you. Making him thrust faster.

He takes you. Claims you. But he still feels like he isn’t close enough to you. Slightly lifting your body as you cling onto him. He thrusts into you, Making sure his pelvis is hitting your clit with each thrust. Your nails digging in to his skin, leaving behind golden marks. He growls at the painful pleasure, wanting you to leave him marked. Because who is powerful enough to draw golden blood from a god, but you?

Body rocking with his thrusts, you feel a tight coil in your stomach, your walls clench around him. Sylus curses, hips stuttering. His breathing growing more uneven against your neck. “Give in-“ he moans at his own body tightening. “Yell into the night the pleasures I’m making you feel” his hips don’t stop their pace. Hitting every deep spot inside you. He turns his lips to your ear his voice the embodiment of seduction and undiscovered pleasures. “Together, my love. I know you can do that for me”

trying to capture your lips in his, but failing with the movement of your bodies. He fills the space between them with your name. he feels you at the edge and follows you over it. Hitting that ecstasy he never had felt before.

He moans, needing to clench his hand on the pillow beside your head. to not crush when his climax hits him. Keeping himself all the way inside you to the hilt, his release going deep inside you. Body, mind and soul. Repeats in his head as he starts to thrust again riding each other’s highs. He praises you and displays his reverence to you with each slowing thrust. grounding you both back to the darkened room. setting you down on the bed.

He dosnt pull away from you keeping himself where he belongs. Trying to drag out this moment by each second. Breathless sounds are heard. Whispers of assurances and loyalty filter out the opened balcony doors settling themselves on the glittering waves of dawn. Forever etched into the sky. promises made with the evidence of love that blossomed in the dark remaining for all eternity even when the sun wakes.

[screamintoad]

Twst oc Mathilde “Mattie” Darrow

“Our fates are within us, you just need to be brave enough to see it.”

Voice claim: Rayla-The Dragon Prince

Character info

Mathilde has stubbornness and fire flowing through her veins. As the dorm head of Befated, she takes great pride in it. Many of her classmates gossip and say she would be better at NRC but she thinks otherwise. Wanting her freedom to do what she wants, she takes every opportunity she can to be outside or even just around nature. She loves playing spelldrive and uses it as a way to let out any pent up stress or energy, which she has a lot of at RSA. 

  She grew up around myths and legends and folk tales. She was taught to not believe them as reality, yet, Mattie took them as lessons that you can learn from. Like the old story of the princess who accidentally turned her mom into a bear yet ended up saving her and their bond. She lives a humble life with her family in the Shaftlands. Although they don’t always see eye to eye, her family DOES always end the day around the fireplace surrounded by laughter. 

Fun facts: She almost joined the archery club but when she saw the Spelldrive team practicing she decided right then and there that she wanted to do it too. When she was younger she was self conscious about her looks because of other kids poking fun at her for it, now that she’s older she’s quite confident in herself. Uses her magic to summon the string and arrows for her bow. Is a Eurasian brown bear beastfolk. She remembers meeting an old lady who lived in a cottage and this lady addressed her as “princess”, she especially remembers all of the bear carvings she was selling and the odd talking crow. 

Basic info

Age: 17

Height: 178cm, 5’10

B-day: June 15th (Gemini) 

Dominant hand: Right

Family: mom, dad, and 3 younger brothers

2nd year

Class A

Club: Spelldrive

Best subject: P.E

Hobbies: Archery, Horseback riding

Pet peeve: People not listening to her for various reasons (“I’m older”, “You’re just a girl”, etc.)

Favorite food: Berries

Least favorite food: Blueberry tarts

Talent: Self preservation, athletics

Unique Magic: Wisps Call, growing up around myths and legends gave her a knack for finding lone spirits and attract wisps to her. In dire need of guidance these wisps will lead the way. 

Character dynamics (listen there’s only like 2 RSA students that we know the personalities of)

Neige: They don’t interact very often but they are in the same grade so sometimes, very rarely, they’ll be paired up for school assignments. He has a habit of complimenting her and first she scoffed until she realized that it’s just how Neige is. 

Chen’ya: Even with her enhanced senses, Mattie can’t predict where Chen’ya is going to be. He’s a drifter and so they run into each other at random times but, she thinks he’s funny and will go with him sometimes to visit NRC. 

Richie: They first met when she was trying out for the spelldrive team. He challenged her to a 1 v 1 match and if she won, she could join the team. After she joined the team they gained a friendly rivalry, on and off the field. Mattie also has the habit of throwing him over her shoulder and walking away if he’s about to or has made a fool of himself. 

Mina: They met when there was a spelldrive tournament between NRC and RSA. Mathilde was immediately drawn to Mina as she stood out so much compared to the other NRC students. Her kindness was welcomed by Mattie’s enthusiasm and friendliness, she’s also the main reason why Mattie visits NRC. 

Bruna: Vice dorm head of Befated. Rats. 

RICHIE AND MINA BELONG TO @twtysevapr

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@moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl @justm3di0cr3 @bunniehunn @midnightmah07

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[callsigns-haze]

Memories Fade V

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Not so long back Rhysand lost his sister. Years after Helion and Elain can raise her memories from the past to see what truly happened to Y/n. Warning: Mentions of death and drinking, mentions of violence

Part 1 here

Previous part

Seventy years had passed since that fateful ball at Helion’s court, and life had taken Y/N through many twists and turns. Now, she found herself in the familiar solitude of the cabin, a place of refuge and reflection. The years had brought healing, but the scars—both physical and emotional—remained.

The cabin was quiet, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of birds outside. Y/N stood by the window, lost in thought, when she heard a soft knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly moved to open it, glancing around to ensure she was alone.

She opened the door to reveal Eris, his fiery hair now streaked darker, but his eyes still as intense and captivating as ever. He stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him, locking it securely. Without a word, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“It’s been too long,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“Far too long,” Eris replied, his voice thick with emotion. He held her close, savoring the moment before finally pulling back to look at her.

As he did, his eyes roamed over her outfit, and a grin spread across his face. Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she remembered what she was wearing—a horrendous dress that Rhysand had insisted she wear to the upcoming High Lords’ meeting. It was a garish shade of dark purple with an overly elaborate design that did nothing to flatter her figure.

Eris tried to keep a straight face, but the sight of her in the dress was too much. He doubled over, hurling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he struggled to breathe. “Y/N, what in the world are you wearing?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me! Rhysand’s idea of a joke, I think. He’s forcing me to wear this monstrosity to the meeting.”

Eris’s laughter continued, tears streaming down his face as he tried to compose himself. “I’m sorry, I really am,” he managed between fits of laughter. “But it’s just... it’s really something.”

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N said, playfully swatting at him. “I know it’s hideous. You don’t have to pretend.”

He finally calmed down, wiping his eyes and still chuckling. “You could wear a sackcloth and still be the most beautiful person in the room,” he said softly, his tone sincere.

Y/N’s heart warmed at his words, and she reached up to cup his cheek. “You always know just what to say,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto his.

Eris’s expression grew serious as he leaned in to kiss her. The world outside the cabin ceased to exist, and for a few precious moments, it was just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s embrace. When they finally pulled apart, Eris sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

“And I’ve missed you,” Y/N replied, her voice filled with longing. “But we can’t stay hidden forever. The meeting...”

“I know,” Eris said, a hint of frustration in his voice. “But for now, let’s just enjoy this.”

----

The High Lords' meeting was in full swing, the grand hall filled with the palpable tension of ancient rivalries and unspoken grievances. Y/N sat beside Rhysand, feeling the weight of the various stares and whispers directed her way. The years had not dulled the memories of the attack or the scars she bore, but she held her head high, a testament to her resilience.

The conversation was heated, with discussions ranging from border disputes to trade agreements. The air crackled with the power each High Lord wielded, their magic swirling subtly in the background.

Then Beron, with his characteristic sneer, dropped a comment that caused the entire room to fall into an uneasy silence. "Has anyone considered the myth of the Phoenii?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm yet carrying an undertone of curiosity.

All eyes turned to him. The Phoenii was a legend as old as the Cauldron itself, a tale of love and rebirth that few took seriously. But Beron’s tone suggested he was hinting at something more.

"The Phoenii?" Tamlin scoffed, his golden hair catching the light as he leaned back in his chair. "You can’t be serious, Beron."

Beron's eyes glittered maliciously. "Oh, but I am. A myth, yes, but myths often have roots in reality. Ash and Flare, one as black as nigh and the other as warm as fire, lovers reborn from their own ashes, wielders of beyond magic. Could it be they were more than just stories?"

Helion leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "It's said Ash died protecting Flare, and she, unable to live without him, ended her own life. They rose again, transformed, and became guardians of the beyond magic wood as for what they're long dead now."

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Y/N, his brows furrowing. The myth was familiar, but it had always been dismissed as a romantic tale rather than a historical fact.

Helion’s rich voice filled the silence, "It's a beautiful legend, a story of love transcending death. But it’s just that—a legend. It dates back to the time of the Cauldron’s creation, a time shrouded in mystery and myth."

Y/N, sitting beside Rhysand, spoke up. "Legends often contain kernels of truth. What are you suggesting, Beron?"

Beron’s lips curled into a smirk. "I’m suggesting we’ve overlooked the potential truth in these stories. If the Phoenii did exist, and their magic was as powerful as the myths claim, could there be remnants of it? Could it be something we could tap into, especially in these uncertain times about the mountain witch?"

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices, each High Lord and their retinues arguing over the possibility. Some dismissed it outright, calling it foolishness, while others, like Kallias, considered it with a more open mind.

"Even if the Phoenii were real," Tarquin interjected, "how would we even begin to search for their magic? The beyond magic wood isn’t exactly on any map."

Rhysand, ever the diplomat, raised a hand to quiet the room. "Whether the Phoenii existed or not, and whether their magic remains, is secondary to our primary concerns. We face real, tangible threats right now."

Eris, who had been silent, leaned forward, his gaze intense. "But what if the Phoenii’s magic could help us against those threats? What if it could be harnessed to protect our lands and our people?"

Y/N watched him, her heart aching with the unspoken connection they still shared. She admired his courage in speaking up, in daring to consider the impossible.

Helion nodded slowly. "It’s not worth exploring, if only to lay the myth to rest once and for all. But we must tread carefully. The past is fraught with dangers and unknowns."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each High Lord and their advisors weighing the potential of the legend against the reality of their present struggles. The idea of ancient magic resurfacing was both thrilling and terrifying.

As the meeting continued, the topic of the Phoenii lingered in the air, a reminder that even in a world of power and politics, there were still mysteries to be unraveled and legends that might hold more truth than anyone dared to believe.

----

The High Lords' meeting finally concluded, and the tension that had filled the room began to dissipate as the participants vanished one by one. Y/N, glancing around to ensure no one was watching, caught Eris’s eye. With a subtle nod, they slipped away from the grand hall, their footsteps light and quick.

Hand in hand, they ran through the moonlit forest, their laughter echoing through the trees. The weight of politics and responsibilities melted away with each step. Eris led her down a familiar path, their destination a serene lake that had witnessed many of their secret moments over the years.

As they reached the wooden bridge that spanned the lake, they slowed to a stop. The night was clear, the sky a tapestry of stars reflected on the still water below. Eris lay down first, pulling Y/N down beside him. They stared up at the glittering sky, the cool night air brushing against their skin.

For a few moments, they simply enjoyed the peace, their breaths synchronizing. Y/N finally broke the silence, her voice soft. “What do you think about what your father said? About the Phoenii?”

Eris let out a sigh, a mix of frustration and amusement. “My father is a maniac. He says mad shit all the time.”

Y/N laughed, a light sound that blended with the rustling of the leaves. “True, but he seemed serious this time. Do you think there’s any truth to it?”

Eris turned his head to look at her, his eyes softening. “Honestly, I don’t know. The Phoenii are a beautiful story, and maybe there’s a grain of truth in every myth, but Beron? He’s more interested in stirring the pot than finding any real answers.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze returning to the stars. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just... the idea of ancient magic like that is fascinating. It makes me wonder what else is out there that we don’t know about.”

Eris reached over, intertwining his fingers with hers. “The world is full of mysteries, Y/N. Some we’ll uncover, and some will remain hidden. But no matter what, we face it together.”

She turned to him, her heart swelling with affection. “Together,” she echoed, squeezing his hand.

They lay there for a while longer, the worries of their worlds forgotten as they shared this stolen moment. The stars watched over them, silent witnesses to their bond that had endured through time and trials. The lake’s surface mirrored the night sky, a perfect reflection of the vastness above, and in that tranquility, Y/N found a sense of hope and peace.

But not for long....

part 6

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

[babylon-crashing]

🜄 THE HIEROPHANT – Card V

TITLE: The Ghost Fleet’s Harbormaster / 陰船港主 (Yīn Chuán Gǎng Zhǔ)

MYTHIC ARCHETYPE: The Pirate Monk of the Nine Dragon Sea

TAOIST PARALLEL: Mazu’s Blind Harbormaster, a legendary figure who navigated ships by listening to qi (聽氣, tīng qì), merged with Zhu Bajie (豬八戒)—the oath-breaking, gluttonous monk from Journey to the West, reformed into a sea-priest of penitence.

PIRATE TWIST: He’s the keeper of the Jianghu Code (江湖規矩, jiānghú guīju), a former pirate who lost his eyes to a Dragon King’s curse for breaking an oath. Now he guides ships through fog-locked spirit ports, enforcing sacred pirate laws with a whalebone abacus that calculates karma.

WHY THE HIEROPHANT? He doesn’t preach—he arbitrates. His temple is a floating shrine-junk where warring captains kneel to settle disputes. He teaches that even thieves must honor the tide’s contract.

TAOIST PIRATE SYMBOLISM

KEYWORDS (Upright):

Hǎi shén pàn (海神判, "Sea God’s Verdict")—fair judgment.

"Blood ink vows" (血墨誓, xuě mò shì)—oaths signed with cutlass scars.

The abacus of debts (算賬, suànzhàng)—karma tallied wave by wave.

KEYWORDS (Reversed):

A cut rope (斷索, duàn suǒ)—betrayal at sea.

"Blind fish" (盲魚, máng yú)—willful ignorance of tradition.

The cursed ledger (厄賬本, è zhàngběn)—unpaid spiritual debts.

INTERPRETATION: This card is the law of the outlaw. The Harbormaster knows even pirates need rules—or the sea swallows all.

RITUAL: THE TIDE-TIED OATH (潮綁誓, Cháo Bǎng Shì)

(Inspired by Ming pirate blood pacts and Daoist knot magic)

PURPOSE: To seal a sacred vow with the weight of the sea.

MATERIALS:

A length of seaweed (or hemp rope soaked in saltwater).

Two coins (one copper, one silver).

Your own blood (or red ink).

A candle (blue or white).

STEPS:

Knot the seaweed into a figure-eight (∞), chanting:

东潮宣誓，西潮束缚—— 血与盐使契约磨砺。 The East Tide swore, the West Tide bound—— Blood and salt sharpens the pact.

Rub the coins with blood/ink, press them into the knots.

Burn one knot (for heaven’s record), sink the other (for the sea’s memory).

PARALLEL MYTHOLOGY

TITLE: The Oath-Keeper of the Tides / The Bridge Between Shores

MYTHIC ARCHETYPE: Njörðr (Norse God of the Sea and Sacred Oaths)

REGION: Scandinavia (Pre-Christian Norse Tradition)

FORM: A member of the Vanir gods, associated with the sea, seafaring, wind, fishing, wealth, and fertility of the coasts.

TALE: Njörðr's most defining story comes at the end of the devastating Aesir-Vanir War. To secure a lasting peace, the two tribes of gods exchanged hostages. Njörðr, along with his children Freyr and Freyja, went to live with the Aesir in Asgard. He became a highly respected priest-king, presiding over religious festivals and sacred oaths. He is the living embodiment of a peace treaty, the bridge between two different cultures and traditions, who brings peace and prosperity through this sacred pact.

WHY THE HIEROPHANT? Njörðr is the Pontifex. He is the bridge. His entire existence in the main Norse myths is predicated on being the cornerstone of a sacred social structure (the peace treaty). He teaches that harmony and bounty (the wealth of the sea) come from honoring tradition, keeping one's word, and integrating different belief systems. His story isn't one of wild magic, but of diplomacy, community, and established ritual.

INTERPRETATION THROUGH NJÖRÐR: To draw this card is to be asked what oaths you have made—to others, and to yourself. It is a call to be a peace-broker in your own life. It signifies a time for learning from a trusted institution or mentor, one who can bridge your current world with a new one. Njörðr teaches that the greatest wealth is found not in lonely rebellion, but in the trust and structure that binds a community together.

RITUAL OF THE SALT AND SOIL PACT (For Making a Sacred Vow)

OBJECTIVE: To make a binding, sacred agreement, either with yourself (to commit to a path) or with another person (to seal a partnership or peace). This ritual establishes a formal structure of trust.

MATERIALS:

A cord or rope, about a foot long.

Two small bowls.

A spoonful of salt (or saltwater). This represents Njörðr's domain: the Sea.

A spoonful of soil. This represents the other party, or the "land" of your current life.

AN OFFERING: Mead, ale, good quality beer, or honeyed water. Njörðr is a god of prosperity and festivals; he appreciates a good drink.

STEPS:

PREPARATION: Place the two bowls before you. Pour the offering into a cup. Clearly state the pact you intend to make. Write it down if you need to. Be precise. Example: "I make a sacred pact with myself to dedicate one hour every day to my craft, without excuse."

THE INVOCATION: Hold the cup with the offering. Address the spirit of the ritual. "Njörðr, Oath-Keeper, Bridge Between Shores, you who secured peace with your presence, I call upon you to witness this sacred pact. Be the guardian of this vow." Pour a small amount of the offering onto the ground or into a separate offering bowl.

ACKNOWLEDGING THE TWO SIDES: Place the salt in one bowl and the soil in the other. Touch the salt. "This is the Sea, the new world, the promise I am making." Touch the soil. "This is the Land, my current self, the foundation upon which this promise is built."

BINDING THE VOW: Take the cord. As you state your vow clearly and firmly one more time, tie a single, tight knot in the center of the cord. As you pull it tight, feel the commitment solidifying. This knot is the physical manifestation of your oath.

SEALING THE PACT: Take a pinch of the salt and a pinch of the soil and place them together in the palm of your hand. Mix them together. This symbolizes the joining of the two worlds, the peace treaty being sealed. Say: "As sea and land meet at the shore, so are these two sides joined. The pact is made."

CLOSING: Drink from your offering cup. Keep the knotted cord on your altar, in your pocket, or tied to your wrist as a constant, physical reminder of your vow. The ritual is complete, and the pact is now witnessed.

SYNCRETIC BRIDGE

Njörðr’s Oaths → Pirate Xuèméng (血盟, "blood alliances"): Both bind land and sea through ritual.

Peace Treaty → Hǎi jìng (海靖, "sea pacification"): Ming emperors used pirate warlords as naval peacekeepers.

THE "SCHOLAR'S HEART" MANDATE:

Sources: The Poetic Edda (specifically the poems Vafþrúðnismál and Lokasenna) and Snorri Sturluson's Prose Edda (in the Gylfaginning and Skáldskaparmál sections). These texts clearly lay out his role as a hostage, a peace-keeper, and a god of wealth. For the ritual see: 《海盗陰陽術》 (Pirate Yin-Yang Arts), 1796, and Quanzhou’s Maritime Trade Laws—12th-century pirate codes enforced by Mazu’s priestesses.

[bestiarium]

Nocnitsa, the night hag [Slavic mythology]:

Nocnitsa is a hag or witch from Slavic folklore who inhabits woods and forests. She is heavily associated with night and darkness, and as such, she mainly targets sleeping children at night. A deeply evil creature, Nocnitsa usually bestows nightmares onto her victims, but she other ways of inflicting suffering: sometimes she shows up at night to breastfeed infants, but her milk is highly poisonous and will cause the child to fall ill.

In this aspect, she is associated with the Rusalka, another supernatural female monster that kills with her breasts. Sometimes, the breasts of a Rusalka were said to be made of iron or stone, and she would crush her victims to death with them.

To appease Nocnitsa, people would make offerings of bread (sometimes also salt), which would then be rubbed on the child. There are also certain charms or rituals to ward off the witch and cure a child’s insomnia. Alternatively, young children could be protected against Nocnitsa with a protective circle or by simply placing a knife under the cradle.

She is also called Nochnitsy (or a variation), Kriksy (meaning “scream”) and Plaksy (“the sniveler”, “one who snivels”), sometimes combined into the name ‘Kriksa-Plaksa’. In Belarus, Nochnitsy were a group of tiny spirits instead of a witch, but the principle remained the same. The Nochnitsy caused children to sleep badly, but they were deeply afraid of fire. To cure an infant cursed by the Nochnitsy, parents would make them sleep in front of the fireplace, or sometimes put onto a large tray or shovel and put in an oven for a short while (note: a smoldering warm oven, not a burning one. Please do not put babies in burning ovens).

Interestingly, Nochnitsa (if it is indeed the same character) plays a minor role in the Slavic story of Pizamar, a mortal woman who fell in love with the god Svarozhich. Unfortunately, the gods forbade love between mortals and deities, so Pizamar tried to take her own life. She walked towards a cliff at night, but right before she could jump off, Nochnitsa cast a sleep spell on her.

Every time she tried to commit suicide, Nochnitsa put her to sleep. Lada and Chors, two goddesses, watched this scenario unfold several times before taking pity on Pizamar. They stole divine mead of immortality from the other gods and gave it to her, turning her immortal. Pizamar then became the entertainer of the gods, dancing and singing for them, which she did with such passion and talent that she eventually became the goddess of the arts.

Sources: Rose, C., 1996, Spirits, Fairies, Gnomes and Goblins: An Encyclopedia of the Little People, Bloomsbury Academic, 370 pp., p. 130, p. 186. Bane, T., 2013, Encyclopedia of Fairies in World Folklore and Mythology, McFarland, 428 pp., p. 277. Kliauz, V., 2001, Video-Recording Ritual Incantations and Folk Cures (1), Institute of World Literature, Moscow, SEEFA Journal, VI (2), 28-34. Bane, T., 2016, Encyclopedia of Beasts and Monsters in Myth, Legend and Folklore, McFarland, 428 pp., p. 241. Valodzina Tatyana, 2006, ‘Unchristened Flesh’: the Woman’s Breast and Breastfeeding in Traditional Slavic Culture, with Especial Reference to Belorussian, Forum for Antropology and Culture, No3, 168-192. Monaghan, P., 2014, Encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines, New World Library, 448 pp., p. 306. Min’ko, L. I., 1973, Magical Curing (Its Sources and Character and the Causes of its Prevalence, Soviet Anthropology and Archeology, 12:1, 3-33. (image source 1: Vasilyna Holod on Artstation) (image source 2: Alexandru Munteanu on Artstation)

[muddyorbsblr]

slipping between future and past [SAS secret santa 2023]

View the full SAS Secret Santa 2023 Masterlist here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You give your friend a few pointers on what to know about Yule, and come across a familiar looking stranger in your bookstore.

Pairing: Loki x Reader/OC Talia Williams

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, please leave I'm asking nicely); unprotected p in v sex; cunnilingus; magical restraints; language; possibly wonky interpretation of time travel & timeslipping; possibly wonky understanding of Yule [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; still written in 2nd Person POV like my other 'x Reader' stories, but this time Reader has a name and it's "Talia Williams"; this is a secret santa request for @acidcasualties

Dick-tionary: smut starts at "the feel of your hands being brought" and ends at "as he marked your skin"

It was uncharacteristically slow today in the bookstore, barely a handful of people walking in, browsing for a few minutes, and then promptly exiting when they see that you didn't carry the middle school dystopia book series all the kids were raving over. It was a colossal waste of their time and yours, considering there would have been less effort had they just taken even a cursory look at the sign by the door.

You didn't carry children's books. Classics, Myths, and Romance only.

Of the number of people that walked through the doors that you could count on your two hands, you could only count those that actually made a purchase with one. Half of one.

The sound of the door chimes brought your attention to the entrance again, seeing your friend Ariadne bounding into the front area of the store with a frantic look in her eye. "Talia," she panted, headed straight for you. "Babes, I need your help. Are you busy? You got a customer back there?"

"Nope. Just me," you called out, stepping out from behind the counter. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Okay so…you know that guy I'm seeing?"

"Uhh…I think so? Lee, right?"

"Leif. Think trees, Babes. Anyways, he wants me to meet his family and apparently they're super into the ancient Norse traditions, so I need a crash course on how they celebrate Christmas." She paced back and forth by the table that held the New York Times bestsellers that you did hold stock for, picking up a copy of the stalker dark romance duology. "His sister likes to read, you think she'll appreciate this?"

You immediately rushed over to her, grabbing the book and nearly slamming it back down on the stack. "You gotta let them crawl before they walk. Let alone sprint," you explained, giving her Beautiful Bastard instead. "This should be a good enough in between, just in case she's not into guns being shoved up anyone's vagina--"

Up where?! she shrieked, grabbing the first book again, along with the sequel and the book you were handing her. "Okay I'll take that for his sister, and these two for me."

"This is exactly why we're friends," you quipped, ringing up her order. "Now about that other thing…you do know that just because I own a bookshop, it doesn't mean that I know everything about everything, right?"

She rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, but I also know that you live for all these myths and folk tales, so I bet you know a thing or two about Viking Christmas."

"Alright fine. Find a chair and settle in," you said with an overly dramatic wave of your hand. "First things first, it's not called 'Viking Christmas', it's called 'Yule'. Immediately if you wanna get on his family's good side, you say Good Yule because it shows that you did at least a customary Google search before you stepped foot on their property." You handed her a small notepad and a pencil. "You're gonna wanna write this down."

When her scribbling down stopped, she perked up with a question. "Do they have a Santa Claus?"

"Yes and no," you answered her, prepping two cups of coffee and handing one over to her before plopping down on your own seat in the reading nook, your favorite one in the entire shop. "Santa Claus is what we call who the Brits refer to as 'Father Christmas'. The Brits got that from 'Yule Figure' from the Viking mythology and Mr Yule Figure himself is...Odin."

"Wait wait hold up." She shot up her hand like a kid asking questions in class. "So Odin is Santa? He goes around little Viking kiddies' neighborhoods and slides down the chimney to give them wooden axes and swords?"

"Hmmm not quite. The whole making a list and checking it twice to give the good little boys and girls presents on Christmas is...not quite how the Vikings do it. Instead they engage in something called the Wild Hunt, where Odin aka Big Yule Father Kahuna calls on his posse of gods and plays a game of non-consensual hide and seek with the living souls. So us being the 'living mortals', we have to find a safe enough hiding place that Odin and Thor and the rest of the Norse gods don't find us, because if they do…they drag us to the Underworld."

"Okay first of all, yikes." Ariadne made a big show of shuddering in her seat over what you just told her. "Can't it be something a little bit less morbid? Like if Thor finds you he drags you to his den of iniquity and has his wicked way with you?"

"I mean it's all myths and folklore anyway," you shot back with a small shrug as you finished off your coffee. "So maybe when the big girls are off in their own corner, we can smut it up and pretend that if someone other than Odin finds us, we can get some happy fun times." You both broke out into giggles at your wording. "And when we're telling the story to the smaller kiddos, we say that the gods only go after the naughty kids. Keep with the spirit of Christmas and all that." You wagged a finger in her direction, giving her another suggestion. "Or in the case of meeting Leif's family, just think which one's gonna have him more devastated, your soul getting dragged into the Underworld or your body getting dragged to Thor's man cave."

She wrote down some more notes on her little notepad before standing up, brimming with excitement. "Okay I think that's all I need. Hopefully…"

"Babes, you're there to meet the family, not get gatekeeper gamer boy levels of interrogated on what you know about Yule. As soon as you don't say 'Merry Viking Christmas', you're in the clear."

She squealed, rushing over to wrap her arms around you and give you a tight squeeze. "Thank you thank you! You just saved me from looking a total ditz meeting his family. I have a really good feeling about this one, you know?"

You gave her a squeeze back, happy that she was finally in a relationship that felt stable enough to start on that family she'd always wanted.

Maybe one day you could be so lucky with your own love life.

"I'm really happy for you, Aria. Let me know how it goes when you get back, okay?"

You worked on wrapping up the book she intended to gift Leif's sister as she asked you another question. "What about mistletoe? Do they have that in Yule?"

You scrunched her nose and shook your head at her question. "Yes and no again. Yes, they've assigned meaning to the plant but no, you don't kiss under it for fear of spending the next year all alone. They believe it to be a symbol for fertility, so it's been known for couples to hang it above their headboards so that their holiday fun times might lead to a child. It's also seen as a symbol for new life or resurrection because there's another folktale that says that Loki fashioned a weapon from the mistletoe plant to kill Baldur, and Frigga's tears turned the white berries red and resurrected her fallen son. Which if you ask me is a steaming pile of horse shit that's almost more ridiculous than how Siegfried was felled in the Nibelungenlied, but that's a story for another day."

"Hold up, but isn't Loki also a son of Frigga?"

You shrugged. "Who knows what's real and what's not at this point? These tales are thousands of years old. All we know right now is that Thor's real and he's friends with a billionaire that made a fancy iron suit and a soldier from the 40s that doesn't even look like he's hit his mid-20s. And that he dated an astrophysicist. Tell you what, if I ever meet him, I'll ask him myself. Maybe I'll even ask him what exactly goes down in the Wild Hunt if they still do it in this century."

"Ooh, if he walks into the store please text me?" You gave her a questioning look. "What? He's my hall pass. Leif knows all about it. Natasha Romanoff's his."

You handed her the gift-wrapped book. "Pinky promise, I'll tell you as soon as a 6'4 muscular Barbie looking dude from Asgard swinging a hammer and summoning thunder and lightning walks into my shop. Maybe I'll even text you if the Black Widow herself walks in so that Leif would owe a favor or two."

"Hey, it could happen," she quipped, sticking her tongue out at you like you were back in the sandbox. "We're in New York, after all. And Avengers Tower's just a ten minute walk away. You never know, you know?"

"Right," you breathed, waving her off as she neared the door. "Merry Yule."

"Merry Crisis," she shot back, blowing you a kiss as she stepped into the cold New York night.

You started cleaning the store so you could close up for the night when a new voice pierced through the quiet.

"I appreciate your refusal to believe that hokum about the mistletoe, darling. It warms my cold Jotun heart knowing that it's safe in your brilliant hands."

Large hands found themselves at your waist before your new visitor's arms wrapped around you from behind, your body going frigid at the action. "Who--?"

"Oh no..." He immediately released you from his hold, allowing you to come face to face with a towering man with onyx curls and a devastatingly handsome face that seemed vaguely familiar. "I must have gone back too far this time." He took a step toward you, his hands twitching in your direction as if he wanted to go back to where he was just a few seconds ago. If you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn't object. "Sweetheart, who am I to you?"

"What? This time?" You raised an eyebrow at him, confusion coating your words. "You trying to tell me we met before? Because trust me I'd remember meeting someone that looked like you."

"Who am I to you? What do you know of me?" he asked again, his brows upturned at the center of his forehead, his expression reminding you of a baby kitten pleading for affection.

"Not much," you admitted. "You look like the guy that tore up a hole in the sky and rode some space chariot while leading an alien army that laid waste on the city that I call home...and the guy that went up against Iron Man and his friends, including that big green scary monster looking dude."

He hung his head, looking down at the ground as he let out a long sigh. "I don't just look like that guy, darling, I--" He exhaled sharply before composing himself again. "I am that guy. Well, I was. And Banner's honestly not that terrifying once you get to know him." He looked at you again, seeing your hand and beginning to look emotionally deflated. "I went too far back."

"You know who else you look like?" you asked him, a smirk playing at your mouth as you reached for the chain around your neck, showing him the ring that hung in its center, closing the distance he put between you. "You look like my future husband."

The relief was written all over Loki's face as he eyed the ring he'd given you, a brilliant smile gracing his features when he pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours.  You melted into the kiss, pressing yourself against him as the god's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

"My darling little mortal," he mumbled against your lips. "Somehow managing to fool a trickster god, for any amount of time, is a feat in and of itself." He kissed you again, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a circle when you put your arms over his shoulders.

"Well you said it yourself, I'm brilliant," you answered him back when you pulled away, your fiancée keeping your feet off the ground. He adjusted his hold on you to hold you up by a single arm, making you giggle when he started walking toward the front door and made your keys materialize in his now free hand. "What're you doing, Mischief?"

"You're finished here for the night," he stated simply, all the lights turning off, along with the doors locking closed, and the sign in front flipping to "Closed" to indicate you'd retired for the night, with a simple wave of his hand. "I'm taking you home, little mortal. Close your eyes."

A breeze flew by your face and the next thing you knew your back was pressed against the familiar wooden column of your kitchen area. Loki crushed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as he pressed your chests together, hands traveling down the sides of your body to wrap your legs around him.

The feel of your hands being brought above your head despite the god's hands still roaming and grasping at your thighs had your eyes snapping open, breaking the kiss with a little squeak from the back of your throat as you looked up. A thrill shot up your spine seeing a thick glowing ring of Loki's seiðr fastened around your wrists and keeping you tethered to the column behind you.

"I could not decide whether to reward you or punish you for getting the better of me earlier, my love," he rasped, latching his lips to your neck and sucking a bruise into your skin. He smirked against you when you started whimpering and arching into his touch within seconds. "So I shall do both."

You let out a whiny sound that had him lightly grasping your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip to coax it into a pout. He kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. Then another ring of his seiðr appeared at your hips, keeping them flush against the column as both rings began to lift you up, your feet soon leaving the ground until he was eye level with your pelvis.

He made a motion with his hand and suddenly you felt a breeze all over your body as he bared you to him, your clothes disappearing in a flash of green.

"Loki…" you whined, squirming under his predatory gaze as another ring of seiðr went around each of your legs, just above your knee, and opened you to him.

"I've not been home in ages, my darling mortal," he rasped, not taking his eyes off of your arousal as he licked his lips. "And I am famished." He took a step closer to you, lightly running his fingers up your inner thigh.

"Let--Let me down, then," you said shakily, feeling your walls quivering and clenching around nothing as he traced up your inner thigh again, only this time with the tip of his nose before pressing a tender kiss to your skin. "I can fix us something to--"

"Oh no, sweet Talia." He kissed you right below your belly button, groaning into your skin. "I do not crave food, my love." He continued to press kisses to your stomach, faintly chuckling when you tried to close your legs and his restraints kept you from moving even an inch. "Your reward is that I will not deny you any ounce of pleasure tonight. I have longed for you too much to deny you much of anything."

He moved his head lower, and you let out an obscene moan of his name as he ran his tongue along the length of your slit before slowly circling your clit.

"Your punishment…" he breathed, pressing slow lingering kisses and laving his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. "No touching."

"Loki, wait--Oh f-fuck!" The room filled with your moans as he proceeded to alternate between long licks at your entrance and close his lips over your clit for what felt like a blissfully torturous eternity. He kept his word on not denying you anything as he brought you over the edge over and over again.

Your throat was raw from your constant moans and screams of his name and various expletives, already having lost count of how many times you came for him when he slid two devastatingly long fingers inside you and curled up, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars. "One more, sweet girl," he mumbled around your clit, the vibrations from his voice already bringing you to the brink of orgasm yet again.

He moved your legs to rest your thighs on his shoulders, moaning against you when your entire body tensed as you came for him again, your pussy quivering against his mouth as he lapped at your release with languid strokes of his tongue. The restraints around your wrists and hips moved you down the column until your face was level with his, a weak whimper slipping from you when you saw how his lips glistened with your juices.

You barely registered the sound of the zipper as he kissed along your chest, biting and sucking more bruises into your skin. He lined himself up at your entrance, sliding into you in a single effortless thrust and eliciting a staggered sigh of relief from the god. "I've m-missed this," he whimpered between thrusts. "Missed you." Thrust. "My precious mortal." Thrust. "My wife." Thrust.

He threw his head back, letting out a decadent moan when you clenched around him after what he'd just called you. It had you desperately longing for your wedding day. Desperately aching to touch him. Just desperate for him.

"Please…" you whimpered, feebly fighting against the restraints again. When the rings holding you to the column finally disappeared, you could only let out a sharp exhale, your hand immediately clawing into your fiancée's back, the other weaving into his onyx curls.

Loki pressed you harder against the column, driving himself deeper inside you, his hands roaming and grasping wherever he could, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Couldn't touch you enough. He slanted his mouth over yours, moaning into the kiss when your tongues tangled together and you could taste your release on him. He adjusted his hold on you, letting out another muffled obscene sound into each other's mouths when the motion caused you to bounce on his cock.

Once he held you securely in his arms he started walking you further into your home, each step making you bounce on him and further weakening you in his embrace. He eased you down onto your bed, breaking the kiss and rendering you completely speechless watching his clothes melt away and baring his godly physique to you.

All you could do was breathe his name as he moved to hover over you again, pressing his lips to your cheek as he picked up the pace. He wrapped his hand around your knee, raising your leg to wrap it around his waist so he could drive into you harder. When you felt his fingers rubbing over your clit, the only sound that came out of you was a sharp moan, your body weakly arching against his hand before squeaking out, "I can't--"

"Just one more, dear heart. For me," he grunted, latching his lips onto that spot between your neck and shoulder as he kept on rubbing tight circles on the over-sensitized nub. Your legs shook and your walls convulsed around him, bring him to his own release as he marked your skin.

Once you both came down from your high, you felt his seiðr wash over you as he pulled you into his arms, putting the covers over you both with another wave of his hand. "I gotta be honest with you, sweetie, that felt a little pent up," you exhaled, a tiny part of you finding it unfair that he'd already resumed his regular breathing as if he didn't just fuck you senseless.

Damn Asgardian endurance.

"Because it was, precious mortal," he told you simply, tracing his finger along your cheek. "How long has it been since last you saw me?"

"Three months…give or take a week?" You braced yourself, already dreading what he'd say next.

"I have not seen you for over a year, my love," he confessed, pressing another kiss to your lips. "At least not like this. Every time I had seen you, you were yet to know me. There were worlds where you even outright feared me, scurrying away once you'd realized where you recognized me from. When I got to your shop earlier, I nearly believed I landed in another iteration of that world."

Suddenly your 'prank' from earlier left a sinking feeling in your stomach. "Loki, I'm sorry, I didn't know." You wrapped your arm around him, pressing yourself even closer to him if that were even possible, resting your head on his shoulder. "I just thought it'd be a bit of fun--"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, brushing the tip of his nose along your own before softly kissing the spot. "But I have missed you terribly. Getting to hold you, to love you. To simply be here with you and enjoy a moment with my wife."

"Future wife," you pouted. "We're still in the planning phase, sadly. I take it the last time you saw me was sometime in our…future? I'm sorry this still gets confusing for me." He nodded his answer, pressing his lips to  your forehead. "Well then the timelines better fucking behave because I refuse to let you go anywhere. I get that you're a big powerful hero now, and knowing that you're out there making sure that everyone's safe and gets to come home to their families? I couldn't be prouder. But you should get to come home, too." You pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. "Preferably for longer than a quickie with your fiancé."

His brows furrowed, shaking his head at your sentiment before pulling you to lay on top of him, chests pressed together with his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. "I've come from a time where we were married and I called you my wife. Regardless of our pending ceremony, that is what you are to me now and what I will call you moving forward. No more of those semantics."

You nudged his chin with your nose, a giggle escaping you when he pulled you up to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Tell me about it. The future…"

"When I found you, you were a force to be reckoned with. Planning your friend Aria's wedding--"

"Ah, so she and Leif really are headed for the fairytale happy ever after?"

"No no, you were planning the wedding in Asgard." You eyes widened at the new information. "She was set to marry Thor."

"Wait she what?!"

A/N: I'm so excited to participate in this year's Secret Santa again! This has been so much fun to write for both times around, and hopefully the story did justice to the request 🥹💖

The request from @acidcasualties:

secret santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[fantasiesandfolklore]

Open Starter || Muse: Relta ;; V: Phoenix Queen Open to: anyone!

“You underestimate me,” the future queen chuckled, flicking aside the blade that was aimed at her torso with ease.

“Sending mortal knights after a descendant of Lord Ares is cruel to your knights,” she added, casting a pulse to knock down the armored army that stood before her and guarding her assailant.

“Or is this a romantic gesture? Trying to flaunt your ‘prowess’ so I consider taking you as a suitor?” Relta laughed, amused by the idea - though some had tried impressing her with military might in the past.

“My mother bore a witch and a warrior, make no mistake. I am the product of my lineage,” Relta threatened, her emerald eyes shimmering with power.

Daughter of descendants of the gods Macha and Ares, she was a witch of great strength in her own right despite mortality polluting her bloodline over the centuries. She still had immense power that shouldn’t be underestimated.

[tylermileslockett]

All right folks, Argonautica is a go! woohoo! 

I wanted to start with a map just so i could wrap my head around the journey and get familiar with the major locations and events in chronological order. I'll do another image showing the major heroes, and then we can dive into individual scene/event illustrations. Ill probably do around 12 -14 images for this myth, so I'll have to be picky about which scenes i illustrate.

Argonautica 1: Overview and Map Route

I.) Iolcis; The crew departs from Jason’s hometown. II.) Lemnos; the island tribe of women who murdered their husbands. III.) Doliones battle: a mistaken battle results in the death of King Cyzicus IV.)  Chios: Hylas abducted by water nymph, Heracles left behind V.) Phineus, a blind seer, is rescued by the Argonauts from Harpies. VI.) The Symplegades (Clashing rocks) a treacherous passage. VII.)  Stymphalian birds: the heroes drive away the man -eating birds VIII.) Colchis; Jason overcomes three trials of King Aeetes to obtain Golden Fleece with the assistance of the sorceress Medea. IX.) Brygean Islands: Medea and Jason trick and murder her brother Apsyrtus to escape Colchian pursuit. X.) Circes Island; The goddess purifies Jason and Medea of blood-guilt. XI.)  The Sirens; Orpheus drowns out the sirens calls with his own song. XII.)   Scylla and Charybdis; Thetis and Nereids guide Argo through XIII.) Drepane Island: escaping 2nd Colchian fleet, Jason and Medea wed. XIV.) Syrtes:  three Nymphs instruct crew to carry Argo on their backs for 12 days XV.)  Garden of the Hesperides; XVI.) Lake Triton: Triton, Son of Poseidon, instructs crew on passage to sea XVII.) Crete: Medea uses her magic to defeat Talos, a giant bronze warrior XVIII.) Aegina Island: the journey ove r, they perform rites for Apollo

Do you like this art? would you like to own a book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Then please support my kickstarter for my book "lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in OCTOBER.

click on my LINKTREE for the Kickstarter link to "notify me when the project goes live." In my linktree is also a link to join my free email newsletter for book updates in the coming months, with free Hi res art and a 25% etsy print shop discount! 

[idlepollingofcybertron]

Hi! I've been playing with an idea and was wondering how you go about making a transformers continuity?

It sounds like you've got the first part, which is some kind of idea to start from. You can build one however you want to be honest, depending on what you want to focus on or start with. But I'll walk through the process I've used by going through how I made some of mine.

1.) An idea/character focus/question.

For TF: Iconoclast my starting concept Roomie and I built from was him basically asking me:

What if the Quintessons were never overthrown?

For TF: Legendarium it was my own idea of:

What if magic/myths were a main focus of it and Prima was evil?

2.) I asked how that would change things and followed along in a "yes and..." manner. Or picked the main cast and then slowly connected them together. Brainstorm a list of ideas or moments or worldbuilding elements without censoring.

TF: Iconoclast was something that I built in my living room going back and forth with roomie. We popped ideas off of each other back and forth and figured out how it would fit in, by asking questions like: How would society be if the Cybertronians were never free? And going through "Darkest World" kind of scenarios and through characters we liked.

I keep a brainstorming document jotting down ideas, all of them, to start from later.

TF: Legendarium I didn't focus on the larger world so much as go back and forth between building the mythical groundwork for the universe by writing fairy tales and myths and focus on individual characters and how they exist. By building them I built the world.

Again started brainstorming ideas and just jotting anything down pretty freely.

3.) Start fine tuning ideas or making them firmer.

I firm them up to be a central idea/plot theme.

TF: Iconoclast was that the Transformers are rebelling against the Quintessons and freeing themselves.

TF: Legendarium was much more scattered and eventually focused on the themes of nature v. nature, choosing to be a compassionate person, free will, and identity. Every narrative part draws back to this.

4.) Build Characters OR Worldbuilding

Sometimes building the characters comes before the themes or you work on them at the same time. Developing the characters and how you want to handle them can help you figure out the themes you want to focus on.

As a recommendation you don’t have to do every character, just choose the ones that you like and want to talk about.   

Worldbuilding is one of the funner elements for me, so it was funner. I do recommend building your world thoroughly. Quick tips are building historical events that still affect things and the three layer rule. 

TF: Iconoclast for example the ancient past is the Quintessons taking over Cybertron during Rung’s time/Quintessa taking over, the modern past is Galvatron’s Rebellion, and the recent one is the Lithone People bringing the Quintessons to court for breaking laws protecting sapient life and starting the case for Transformers to be recognized as an independent species.

TF: Legendarium as an example: the ancient past is war of the thirteen, the modern past was Sentinel’s overthrowing of his father, and the recent past was Pickup’s Rebellion.

Start with three: one that happened in the distant past that changed society, one that happened in the modern times (think grandparents/parents time generation wise), and one that happened recently.

If you want to add an element to worldbuilding give it three layers. You set the world up so whatever you establish is the rules just maintain them throughout. Start with the main element then add one deeper reason behind it and then one more so it is built in.

Other Recommendations

It can also be helpful to talk to people to bounce ideas off of. 

For TF:Legendarium, I had a few Tumblr users who would ask about specific characters they really liked or scenarios that helped me develop them. 

For TF: Iconoclast, I and Roomie were building it together and would talk about it and I would bounce ideas off him.

Don’t be afraid to complete change things or do something new with characters. Throw your wild ideas out and have fun.

I’ve made Ratchet female in one story and married to Pharma. I’ve made Tarn a small toy model who is JazzProwl’s “child”. I’ve made Mirage the First Conjunx of Cybertron married to Sentinel Prime and the parent of Knock Out. I made the Alpha Trion evil and manipulating civilization to start a holy war.

Now, please tell me about your idea.

[chaifootsteps]

So a while back I saw some screenshots of Viv answering questions on her Patreon Discord (I'm guessing it was that, anyway), and apparently, Stella's original name was Sibella.

And that got me thinking.

While Viv just liked the name for the Gentleman's Guide song, I noticed the name is derived from Sibyl from Greek myth and means "prophetess".

Imagine if they had leaned into that idea? Like Stella not only has a gift of prophecy, but also a degree of psychic knowledge? In Helluva's canon, there isn't really a grasp of how the grimoire works, but what if there was? What if Stolas didn't really have a drive to learn about it (hence him never teaching Octavia), but Stella did? And she ends up using a spell of sorts combined with their arranged marriage to have power over Stolas? So that even though Stolas is an Ars Goetia, who's incredibly powerful to most and has a full demon form, by the constraints of Stella using the grimoire's magic and studying it, he can't harm her, but she can harm him?

That route would actually make Stolas feeling threatened and caged by Stella make a lot more sense, give Stella more of a character, and give the grimoire more plot relevance and a solid understanding of how it works.

Sadly, in Viv's hands, she' isn't's a lot more one-dimensional and less likable as a villain. But if Viv had gone a route like that, she could have at least have some interesting elements to her even with Stolitz being mangled.

... You know what? Screw it. I'm taking my random AU headcanon for Stella and transposing it onto the Lady Macbeth character in my steampunk musical take on Macbeth. With a villain song inspired by this for good measure. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XSTgVQzGEA

Leave it to Viv to hold yet another golden opportunity in her hands and squander it in every way imaginable.

Love your steampunk musical idea! As for me, I'm headcanoning Sibella as this gorgeous demon with psychic powers and a killer singing voice that Stella ultimately rides off into the sunset with.

[bunny-claws]

constellation correspondences ✦ ˖ ⁺

a list of common constellations and their correspondences

(there are many myths from many cultures surrounding the constellations - pls keep in mind that these are personal correspondences largely inspired by greco-roman mythology and will be updated periodically - last update on 6.15.25)

A

andromeda - power, removing barriers, release, letting go

aquarius - innovation, luck, rebellion, intellect, curiosity

aquila - guidance, psychic work, astral travel, wisdom

ara - hearth, home, devotion, refuge, protection 

aries - protection, banishing

auriga - wisdom, knowledge, storm magic 

B

boötes - protection, acquisition, nature, weather, storm warding

C

cancer - astral travel, dreamwork, psychic abilities, imagination, creativity, subconscious desire 

canes venatici - companionship, faithfulness, protection while traveling, healing, abundance, fertility, growth 

canis major & canis minor - death, renewal, new beginnings, protection, purification

capricornus - harvest, energy, abundance

cassiopeia & cepheus - balance, relationships, love, union, healing, maternal conflict (cassiopeia), and familial/home conflict (cepheus) 

centaurus - balance, duality, healing, wisdom

cetus - power, intelligence, communication, change, growth, happiness

columba - peace, relaxation, fidelity, devotion, marriage, union

corona australis - emotions, love, spirituality, success, manifestation of goals 

corona borealis - guidance, authority, protection, knowledge, divination, success, manifestation of goals

corvus - wisdom, secrets, duality, prophecy, divination

crater - life, emotions, abundance, cleansing, healing

crux - elemental energy, crossroads, decision-making 

cygnus - light, death, transformation, prophecy, self-esteem 

D

delphinus - intelligence, wisdom, truth, releasing negativity, fertility, safe travels 

draco - wisdom, power, knowledge, prosperity, luck, protection 

E

eridanus - life, health, abundance, power, wisdom, transformation, meditation 

G

gemini - balance, change, transition, increased power, banishing

grus - death, rebirth, mysticism, truth, divination  

H

hercules - wisdom, creativity, strength, energy

hydra/hydrus - life, reproduction, forces of nature, power, healing, transformation, change

I

leo - power, protection, courage, strength, abundance 

lepus - abundance, swiftness, wisdom, divination, hidden knowledge, transformation, lunar magic 

libra - balance, healing, justice, legal matters 

lupus - power, purpose, loyalty, protection

lynx - isolation, purification, cleansing, illumination, insight, hidden knowledge, swiftness

lyra - underworld, enchantment, immortality of the soul, music 

M

monoceros - beauty, freedom, love, luck, spirituality, transformation, wisdom, creativity 

O

ophiuchus & serpens - healing, balance, the flow of energy 

orion - self-confidence, strength, victory, winter storms 

P

pegasus & equuleus - travel between realms, spiritual communication, astral travel, divination, psychic abilities 

perseus - heroism, courage, power 

phoenix - change, cycles, transformation, rebirth, renewal, personal growth 

pisces - creation, fertility, union, creativity 

pleiades, the - mysticism, power, higher consciousness, wisdom, awareness

S

sagittarius - mental stimulation, virility, sexuality, physical energy, power, skill, manifestation of goals

scorpius - protection, the underworld, creativity, transformation, psychic abilities 

T

taurus - abundance, regeneration, power, strength, potency 

triangulum - balance, change, transformation

U

ursa major - protection, strength, survival, exile, courage, the afterlife

ursa minor - protection, youth, nurturing, awakening, renewal

V

virgo - rebirth, harvest, regeneration, prosperity

© 2025 bunny-claws

[missjojolie]

The Living Obelisk

“History remembers you as The Living Obelisk—the most powerful witch of any generation, a master of Ancient Magic who shaped the wizarding world forever. But when you are pulled through the mysterious veil in the Department of Mysteries, you awaken in a time that has immortalized your deeds but forgotten the person behind the legend. Trapped in your younger self, you must navigate a world that sees you as a myth while uncovering the truth of why you were brought here. As whispers of a rising dark power reach your ears, you face an impossible question: will you reclaim your place in history, or will you forge a new legacy?”

More parts on Wattpad.

Masterlist.

V

The castle feels quiet, too quiet, as you navigate the dimly lit corridor toward Dumbledore's office. The stillness wraps around you like a second skin, broken only by the faint echo of your footsteps on the stone floor.

But then, a cackle slices through the silence—a high, mischievous sound that makes you stop in your tracks. You've heard that laugh before, back in your school days. Sure enough, as you glance around, the culprit floats into view, bobbing erratically in midair.

"Oi, oi, what do we have here?" Peeves sings, his translucent face splitting into a devilish grin. "A ghost from the past, a legend reborn! The Queen of Magic, returned and forlorn!"

You keep walking, not even sparing him a glance, but Peeves is undeterred.

"Did they write it all down? Your deeds, your might? The witch who could wield all magic, day and night! Oh, they told me, oh yes, they did!" He spins mid-air, his cackles echoing through the hall. "The Living Obelisk, or so they say, come to haunt Hogwarts another day!"

You stop, narrowing your eyes and crossing your arms as you glance up at him. "I see you haven't changed a bit, Peeves."

"And you've changed a lot!" Peeves declares, darting closer. "You're younger, you're brighter, and oh-so-quick—"He spins in the air, chanting as he goes:

"Once so mighty, once so bright! The Keeper of Magic, Queen of Light! But does she still have that spark, that flare? Or is she just a tale of old despair?"

Tilting your head at him, unimpressed. "Move along, Peeves. I'm not in the mood."

"Oho!" Peeves zips back, feigning fear. "Not in the mood, says the Queen! But what would Hogwarts be without a little scene?" He twirls in place. "Perhaps I'll christen you with water from above, a refreshing gift for the witch we love!"

With a theatrical wind-up, he hurls a gush of water directly at your head, his laugh rising to a crescendo. The water comes hurtling toward you, speeding through the air with unerring precision. Your reflexes kick in instantly, and with a sharp flick of your wrist, the water halts mid-air. The magic flows effortlessly, instinctively—a quiet hum in your veins.

Peeves appears in a flash, hovering upside down just ahead of you. His wide, mischievous grin falters as he watches the water suspended in the air.

"Ooooh, clever, clever!" Peeves howls, shaking droplets from his translucent frame. "The Queen of Magic doesn't miss a thing! Not a spell, not a curse, not a watery fling!"

"Peeves, I swear to Merlin...." You roll your eyes, lowering your hand and letting the water drop harmlessly to the floor.

He claps his hands, hovering closer with a grin that's equal parts mischievous and impressed. "Oh, but tell me, great and mighty one, do you rule the past? The future? The sun? Or are you just here to make Peeves run?"

You arch an eyebrow, still utterly unimpressed. "You have until the count of three to vanish, or I'll conjure something far worse than a little water."

Peeves gasps theatrically, clutching his chest as though mortally wounded. "The Queen threatens little old me! Oh, how cruel, how frightful, how scary she be!"

"One."

Peeves immediately zips backwards, floating higher. "Now, now, let's not be hasty, my dear! Peeves mean no harm, just a bit of cheer!"

"Two."

"Oh, fine, fine!" Peeves huffs, twisting in the air and preparing to dart off. "But know this, oh mighty witch: you'll always be Peeves' favourite glitch!"

He zooms off down the corridor, his cackles trailing behind him like the tail of a comet. You watch him go, exhaling a sharp breath and shaking your head. Peeves may be irritating, but at least he was predictable. Even in this strange new time, it seems some things never change. Peeves is one of them.

Soon, the spiralling staircase carries you upward toward Dumbledore's office, the soft rumble of stone beneath your feet a familiar yet distant comfort as you approach, The heavy oak dispensed on its ach, revealing the warm glow of the Headmaster's office. You step inside, pausing as the rich scent of parchment and ink mingles with a faint, sweet aroma that feels almost otherworldly.

"If hiding in plain sight is still the suggested approach," you begin dryly, casting a glance toward Dumbledore, who stands serenely near his desk, "then you might want to have a word with Peeves. For him, discretion is—"

Your words falter as your gaze shifts, catching sight of a magnificent bird perched beside the Headmaster's desk. Its shimmering feathers seem almost alive, glowing in the warm hues of gold and crimson. The creature tilts its head toward you, meeting your gaze with deep, golden eyes that hold an intelligence far beyond that of an ordinary animal.

"Is that a phoenix?" you breathe, stepping forward without thinking, your earlier irritation with Peeves melting away.

You incline your head slightly, unable to tear your eyes away from the majestic creature. Dumbledore smiles warmly, his hand gesturing to the bird in question.

 "Indeed, it is. This is Fawkes, my companion and, on occasion, my saviour." There's a softness in his voice, a deep fondness that makes his words almost reverent. "He has been with me for many years."

"I've met a few phoenixes in my life," you say, your gaze never leaving the bird. "But none quite like him. He's extraordinary."

Fawkes flutters his wings lightly, the movement sending a ripple of golden light cascading across the room. He seems to regard you with curiosity, his piercing gaze holding steady. It's as if he's assessing you, weighing something only he can sense.

"They are indeed extraordinary creatures," Dumbledore agrees, stepping closer to the phoenix. "Loyal beyond measure, and endlessly resilient. Fawkes has been a source of great comfort—and, at times, great wisdom."

You take another step forward, your eyes tracing the intricate patterns of Fawkes' feathers. "I have always admired their symbolism. Rebirth, renewal. Rising from ashes stronger than before. It's a comforting thought. Now more than ever."

Dumbledore watches you closely, his expression thoughtful. "A phoenix's journey is not unlike our own, wouldn't you agree? Life, after all, is a series of trials, each one an opportunity to rise anew."

"If only we could manage it with their grace," you say with a faint smile. "But I suppose that's part of what makes them so extraordinary."

Fawkes tilts his head, almost as if acknowledging your compliment. A low, melodic trill escapes resonating through the room like a warm embrace. You glance back at Dumbledore, whose expression reveals a note of amusement mixed with understanding.

"He seems to like you," Dumbledore says, his eyes twinkling. "Phoenixes are creatures of great discernment. They rarely take to someone unless they see something... exceptional in them.  Fawkes is no exception."

"A compliment from a phoenix," you murmur, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "High praise indeed."

Dumbledore nods, his expression growing pensive. "Perhaps he senses that your journey here will require a bit of his resilience."

"Perhaps," you say quietly. "Or maybe he just likes a good story."

Dumbledore chuckles a warm, low sound that fills the room. "That, too, is possible."

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the crackle of the fire and the faint rustle of Fawkes' feathers. The bird tilts his head, his golden eyes still fixed on you as if considering some unspoken question. There's something calming about his presence, something that makes the air feel lighter.

"Shall we have supper?" Dumbledore's voice gently breaks the silence. He gestures toward the chairs by the fireplace, where a small table with simple but inviting dishes has appeared. "There is much to discuss, and I suspect you have many questions."

You nod, forcing yourself to turn away from Fawkes. Reluctant as you are to break the moment, the prospect of a conversation with Dumbledore promises clarity—or at least, a step closer to understanding. You follow him to the chairs, your steps measured but purposeful.

"I trust your day has been enlightening?" Dumbledore asks, his blue eyes twinkling with quiet amusement as he pours a goblet of pumpkin juice and sets it before you.

"It has been... informative, to say the least," you reply carefully, picking up your utensils. "I spent most of the day in the library, reading about the First Wizarding War. Voldemort's actions are well-documented, but his origins seem deliberately obscured."

Dumbledore's expression grows serious, his tone remains calm and measured. "That is no accident. Voldemort took great care to erase the traces of his past, ensuring that only fragments remain for anyone who dares to search."

"But I imagine you must know who he is," you state, your tone edged with curiosity and the faintest hint of challenge.

He inclines his head, his eyes glinting faintly in the firelight. "Yes. His true name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, a young wizard who came to Hogwarts many years ago. He was the son of a witch named Merope Gaunt and a Muggle father, Tom Riddle Sr. He was conceived under a love potion. His mother died shortly after his birth, and he was raised in a Muggle orphanage."

You freeze mid-motion, your fork halting just above your plate. Slowly, you snap your gaze to Dumbledore, and you feel the words tumble out before you can stop them. "Gaunt? The descendants of Slytherin?"

Dumbledore's eyes sharpen, but before he can reply, a wave of memories crashes over you, unbidden and relentless. Ominis. The name rings in your mind like a haunting refrain, carrying with it the familiar ache of loss. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, the room around you fades.

You see his face—his sharp features, the way his expression would soften when he spoke of a world free from the shadows of his family's dark legacy. His voice, steady and unwavering, as he once said, "I don't have to be who they want me to be." A familiar pain settles in your chest, heavy and unwelcome, as memories of your old friend surface. His quiet strength, his unwavering loyalty, the way he always seemed to carry a burden far heavier than he deserved.

Dumbledore tilts his head slightly, his expression tinged with curiosity. "I see you are familiar with the Gaunt family?"

"Yes, I knew Ominis Gaunt during my time at Hogwarts. He was a friend—a good one. He was the last Gaunt I knew and the only one who carried that name with a shred of decency." Your voice drops, tinged with bitterness. "His family... they were cruel. Obsessed with blood purity, with the legacy of Slytherin. Ominis hated them for it. He tried so hard to be different."

A flicker of sadness crosses Dumbledore's face. "It is a rare strength to reject the beliefs one has been raised with."

"He despised his family's dark practices, especially their use of the Cruciatus Curse. It pained him deeply." You sigh, gaze distant, lost in the swirl of memory. "He once told me that his family's obsession would destroy them. I suppose he was right."

Dumbledore nods solemnly. "The Gaunt family's fixation on their heritage led to their isolation and eventual downfall. Merope, Tom Riddle's mother, suffered greatly under her father's and brother's tyranny. She used a love potion on Tom Riddle Sr. Her tragic life and choices had profound consequences for the wizarding world."

You lower your gaze, the connection between your old friend and the dark wizard before you forming a poignant link. "It is heartbreaking to think that Ominis's relatives contributed to such darkness."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agrees softly. "But it also serves as a reminder that individuals have the power to choose their own paths, regardless of their lineage."

You pause, your brow furrowing. "And Tom Riddle? I imagine he embraced that part of his lineage."

Dumbledore leans back slightly, his hands folded neatly in his lap. "Tom discovered his heritage while still a student at Hogwarts. Rather than reject it, he saw it as a source of power—a validation of his own ambitions. To him, being a descendant of Salazar Slytherin was not a burden, but a birthright."

Your lips press into a thin line, the words settling heavily over you. "He took what Ominis rejected and used it to build a legacy of terror. He used it as a weapon,"

Dumbledore's expression is sombre. "Tom's choices were shaped by many factors—his upbringing, his ambition, his disdain for his Muggle roots. But his discovery of the Gaunt family's connection to Slytherin became a foundation upon which he built his identity as Voldemort."

For a moment, neither of you speak, the crackle of the fire filling the silence. You sit back in your chair, the weight of Ominis's memory pressing against your chest. You'd seen firsthand the damage his family's obsession with blood purity had caused, and now you were learning of the catastrophic legacy that obsession had left behind.

Nodding slowly, your mind still turning over the pieces of what you've learned. Voldemort's story, intertwined with the Gaunt name, is one of ambition and cruelty, of a young man who saw the world not as it was, but as something to dominate and control. And yet, even in the shadow of that darkness, you can't help but think of Ominis—of the light he tried so hard to bring into a family consumed by hate.

You sigh, pushing the weight of the Gaunts from your mind. It's not a thread you want to pull on any further, not tonight. Instead, you reach once again for your goblet, letting the cool pumpkin juice soothe your dry throat before you shift the conversation.

"What about this Harry Potter boy?" you ask, your tone carefully neutral. "How did he survive the Killing Curse and as an infant, no less."

Dumbledore's expression softens."When Voldemort targeted the Potters, Harry's mother, Lily, sacrificed herself to protect her son."

You take a thoughtful sip from your goblet, absorbing this information. "So, it was his mother's sacrifice that saved him?"

"Precisely," Dumbledore affirms. "Lily's selfless act of love provided Harry with a protection that even Voldemort could not penetrate. Even today, the protection Lily bestowed upon Harry through her sacrifice has lingered, offering him a unique safeguard against Voldemort's malevolence. However, as with all magic, its potency can wane under certain circumstances."

You pause, swirling the goblet in your hand as you contemplate Dumbledore's words.

"It's fascinating," you say slowly, more to yourself than to him, "Lily's love wasn't just an abstract concept—it became a tangible force. A shield. Intent alone wouldn't have been enough to generate something like that. There had to be something deeper, something intrinsic to the nature of magic itself."

Your brow furrows as you continue, your gaze distant. "We know magic responds to emotions—raw, unfiltered emotions. It is why grief can summon such destructive power, or why joy can heal in ways no spell can replicate. But love... love is unique, isn't it? It's not just raw. It is layered—complex. Protective. Self-sacrificing. Perhaps that is why it resonates so profoundly with magic."

You lean forward now, your hand gesturing as your thoughts tumble out. "If Lily's sacrifice invoked something akin to Ancient Magic, it must have acted as a bridge between her intent and the raw magical energy around her. Magic is a living force, after all. It is not static; it reacts to us, to our choices, our emotions. Lily's love was not just protective—it was active. It was not cast—it was invoked, triggered by an emotional resonance so strong that it overrides the conventional rules of magic. That is why it worked for her. She was not trying to protect Harry with a spell. She was trying to protect him with everything she was."

"Go on," Dumbledore prompts gently, his tone warm and encouraging.

You don't even notice his words as rise slightly from your chair, pacing now, your hands gesturing as you speak. "Think about it. If love could trigger that kind of magic, then it must be tied to the very foundation of the magical world. It is not just an emotion—it is a universal force. And Voldemort—he would not have understood it, would he? To him, magic is power and dominance. It is something to be wielded, and controlled. But love—it does not work like that. It does not bend to will or force. It flows freely, unbound. That is why he could not counter it. It was not just magic he was up against—it was a force he fundamentally could not comprehend."

You pause, exhaling sharply, the pieces clicking together in your mind. "So, Lily's sacrifice was not just an act of love—it was an act of creation. She created a magic Voldemort could not see, could not predict, because it did not follow the rules he built his power upon... fascinating."

Dumbledore, who has remained silent through your theorizing, finally speaks, his tone warm and tinged with admiration. "You know, I've read countless books about magic and its mysteries, but I've never heard it explained quite like that."

You pause mid-step, glancing at him with a mixture of surprise and humility. "I... I don't know that I have explained anything. It is just a theory."

"A theory that holds remarkable insight," Dumbledore counters, smiling. "Your perspective on magic—its intricacies, its connections to the human experience—is as profound as it is refreshing. You have a gift, not just for wielding magic, but for understanding it in ways that most of us can only dream of."

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"I am just... thinking aloud," you say, brushing off the compliment with a faint smile.

"And in doing so," Dumbledore continues, "you've illuminated a concept that many have overlooked for centuries. You remind me," he adds, his eyes twinkling, "of why I so admired your writings as a young man. Even then, you had a way of seeing magic for what it truly is—a reflection of the heart as much as the mind."

You sit back down, your cheeks warming at his words. "I am not sure I deserve that kind of praise,"

"Deserve it or not, you've earned it," he says simply. "And I'm quite certain that Harry, should he have the chance to learn from you, will be all the better for it."

The mention of Harry brings you back to the moment, and you nod, the weight of the boy's role in all of this settling over you once more.

"If love truly is the key to his survival," you say thoughtfully, "then Voldemort's greatest weakness has already been revealed. He is incapable of understanding what saved Harry that night."

Dumbledore leans back in his chair, his smile widening. "Precisely. And it is that lack of understanding that may yet prove his undoing."

You hum thoughtfully, the wheels in your mind still turning, but you decide to ground yourself in the present. Clearing your throat, you pick up your fork and knife and begin to eat.

"So," you say between bites, "anything else I ought to know about the First War? Anything that might be relevant now?"

Dumbledore's expression shifts slightly, the twinkle in his eye dimming as his tone takes on a more serious note. "There is much to tell, though some of it may sound familiar to you. The First War was not fought by wands alone. It was a battle of courage, of conviction, and of unity in the face of overwhelming darkness."

You nod, gesturing for him to continue.

He sets his goblet down carefully, his long fingers steepling as he leans forward. "During that time, Voldemort's power grew unchecked. He amassed followers—witches and wizards who shared his twisted ideals of supremacy and domination. He called them the Death Eaters. They carried out his bidding, spreading terror and chaos across both the wizarding and Muggle worlds."

"I read as much," you interject. "The Death Eaters were responsible for some of the darkest acts in modern magical history."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agrees gravely. "But against that darkness, a small but determined resistance formed. We called ourselves the Order of the Phoenix."

"The Order of the Phoenix?" you repeat, tilting your head.

He nods, his voice steady. "It was a group of witches and wizards who banded together to oppose Voldemort and his Death Eaters. We operated in secret, often at great personal risk. Some were spies, others strategists, fighters, or healers. Each of us contributed in our own way, united by the belief that Voldemort's reign could not be allowed to continue."

You lean back in your chair, your expression contemplative. "And this... Order, it still exists?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replies, his tone firm. "With Voldemort's return, the need for resistance has arisen once more. The Order has been reassembled, though its members are fewer now, and the risks remain as great as ever."

You set your fork down, considering his words. "So, this war has already begun. Even if most do not realize it."

Dumbledore inclines his head. "Precisely. The Ministry of Magic, I'm afraid, refuses to acknowledge Voldemort's return. They see it as too great a threat to their authority and stability, and so they turn a blind eye, labeling those of us who speak the truth as fearmongers."

"Typical bureaucracy," you mutter, shaking your head. "Ignoring the problem will not make it go away."

"Which is why the Order's work is more important than ever," Dumbledore says, his gaze steady. "We operate in the shadows, gathering intelligence, protecting those who cannot protect themselves, and preparing for the conflict that will inevitably come."

"And Harry Potter?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "Where does he fit into all this?"

Dumbledore's expression softens, a flicker of sadness passes through his eyes. "Harry is at the centre of this war, whether he wishes to be or not. His survival has made him a symbol of hope, a rallying point for those who oppose Voldemort. But beyond that, he carries a burden—one that ties him to Voldemort in ways neither he nor the world fully understands yet."

You study him carefully, the weight of his words settling over you. "So, the Order fights to protect him, too."

"Yes," Dumbledore says quietly. "Harry is crucial to what lies ahead."

You tap your fingers lightly against the table, your mind turning over what you've learned. The Order of the Phoenix is a secret resistance fighting a shadow war against a dark wizard the world refuses to acknowledge. It's both inspiring and disheartening—a reminder of how much the wizarding world has grown, and how much it still struggles with the same fears and denials.

"I shall join, naturally," you declare with quiet resolve, spearing a piece of chicken with your fork. "That much goes without saying. However, I must take great care to remain concealed. Even with transfiguration aiding my disguise, I must tread lightly, as it were. None must know my true identity, as we've agreed... Provided, of course, that damned poltergeist doesn't expose me first." You muttered.

"Wise as ever," Dumbledore replies a note of warmth in his voice. "You understand, perhaps better than most, the value of subtlety in these delicate matters. Speaking of which," he continues, a glimmer of amusement in his tone, "I ought to inform you that a colleague and dear friend of mine, Professor McGonagall, has already been made aware of you—or, rather, a version of you. I have taken the liberty of informing her that you are my grandniece, newly arrived to stay under my care," he explains smoothly. "She is quite a perceptive woman, and the deception is thin, but it suffices for now. More importantly, she has kindly agreed to accompany you to acquire more... appropriate clothing for this era."

Your gaze drops to your current garments—plain, serviceable robes brought to you by a house elf earlier that day. 

"I suppose my wardrobe does leave much to be desired," you admit, though your tone carries a trace of amusement. "Very well, when am I to meet this Professor McGonagall?"

"Tomorrow," Dumbledore replies, his tone light but purposeful. "Which means there is the matter of your physical transformation to address this evening."

You lean back slightly, folding your hands neatly in your lap. "Very well. It's fortunate I'm proficient enough in such magic to manage it without much fuss. Though I must admit, altering one's appearance so thoroughly always feels rather peculiar."

"It is a small inconvenience," Dumbledore remarks, "but one that will provide you with a significant advantage. The fewer questions raised, the better."

You incline your head in acknowledgement, a faint smile lingering on your lips. As the meal continues, your thoughts linger on what lies ahead—new clothing, a new face, and a new role within a war that feels both foreign and familiar. Though the circumstances are extraordinary, you find yourself steadied by a growing resolve. If this is the path fate has laid before you, then you'll walk it with purpose, just as you always have.

"Now, tell me, why did Voldemort choose to go after the Potters?" you ask, your voice steady despite the tension hanging in the air.

Dumbledore regards you carefully before responding, his piercing gaze searching for something within you. Then, with measured solemnity, he speaks.

"A prophecy," he says at last.

And so, he tells you everything—the prophecy that sealed Harry Potter’s fate before he had even drawn his first breath, the reason Voldemort had feared him enough to strike preemptively, and the peril that still lingers over the boy’s head. He tells you that the Dark Lord seeks to reclaim the prophecy now, that it is safeguarded within the Ministry, and that the Order has taken up the task of protecting it.

A fragile thread of fate, balanced between past and present, between hope and destruction.

As the weight of his words settles over you, your resolve hardens. There is no escaping the war, no standing idly by. You are here, and whether by fate or chance, you have a role to play.

A/N:

Hellloooo, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for that support. Be safe out. <3<3<3

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