#willow has hers tied with vines

[puppyeared]

Are Luz and amity sharing a toothbrush holder

[nd-of-a-manatee]

Brambles pt. 1

Pls read this for context first

NEXT

[ID:

(This description is a text adaptation of a comic. Some descriptions have been tailored to fit the change in medium.)

It’s night.

The Motherlobe looms black in the dark blue sky among the trees in the quarry of Psychonauts HQ. The center window of the brain-shaped building is illuminated with pale yellow light. Inside that window, the silhouettes of Truman Zanotto–the Grand head of the Psychonauts–and an unknown female figure argue with each other as word bubbles clutter the space above them. Far below, Lili Zanotto (in her early teens) escapes the building out a side entrance and hops across hovering platforms over the lake at the bottom of the quarry. She’s wearing a blue sweater, black pants, red and white sneakers, and her brown hair tied in long low pigtails.

She steps off the last platform onto a grassy rock formation. The top of the formation used to be where her secret garden grew. It’s now empty, with a hole in the ground where the willow tree used to be. Lili hops easily past the site and uses a squiggle of levitation to clear a gap in the boulders that structure the hillside.

Lili walks on through the forest alone, hands in pockets. Giant moonlit pine trees and bushes surround her as she makes her way along an unclear path. When she reaches her destination, she looks ahead with weary irritation. Her reddish eyeshadow is purple in the low light, making her look even more tired. She has a new garden–filled with many varieties of plants, sectioned by a hedge down the center, surrounded by smooth stones, and crowned with three willows of varying height that huddle beneath a cluster of vertical cylindrical rocks that push together as if to cradle them. The whole place is covered in ropey green thorny weeds.

“Ugh. Again?” she groans.

She starts trying to pull the vines away from a nearby flowering shrub, but they’re stubborn and bite her through her fingerless black gloves. Her sixth sense suddenly gets her attention (represented with magenta lines that emanate from her head). She turns around and sees a rail-thin figure posed atop one of the stone stacks, backlit against the half moon hanging in the sky behind it. The figure is boyish and short with awkwardly long legs, upside down with one hand supporting it, the other behind his back, and both legs straight up in the air. A familiar brown helmet and red goggles make its head look bigger than it should be.

Lili, smiling, responds with telepathy.

<Hey, tree-sitter. What’re you doing here?>

Her friend and partner, Razputin, lifts his head and looks down at her through all the red hair sticking out of his helmet. He responds warmly through orange psychic waves.

<I sensed a disturbance.>

<Psh. I bet the whole county heard it,> Lili adds huffily. She glances away at nothing in particular.

<Definitely could from Sasha’s lab,> Raz admits.

<What were you doing in the lab this late at night?> she asks, crossing her arms.

<Shooting psychic waves at the moon.>

<Why? The moon’s still there during the day.>

<I know. We’ve been at it since this morning.>

Lili can’t help smiling again.

<Mind if I come down?> Raz asks.

<Go ahead. You can help me get rid of these weeds. They don’t listen to reason.>

Raz lists forward and effortlessly flips his way down the steep stone slope, landing all clean and professional in the grass at the bottom. His outfit is easier to see up close. Mint-green long-sleeve, light brown pants. The cuffs of both disappear into gray-green gloves and black and white hightop shoes. Lili gives him a single clap, and they get to work.

Both of them generate giant telekinesis hands composed of psychic energy in their respective colors. Raz selects a cluster of vines and yanks as hard as he can with his big TK hand. The vines react violently, twisting on their own so fast that the hand snaps into a cloud of scattering orange remains, complete with a “CHOMP” sound.

“Can’t we psi-blast them off?” Raz asks aloud.

“No way.” Lili doesn’t take her eyes off of the mess she’s concentrating on. Two fingers are pressed to her temple. “I’ve been so busy with missions and my mom visiting that I’ve hardly watered anything. I’d burn these stupid weeds off myself if the whole garden wouldn’t go up with them. I need my watering can, but I can’t get to it under all this.”

“Have you got any hedge clippers?”

“Yeah, they’re with the watering can.”

Raz thinks, forming a thought bubble that expands into a hand with a pair of hedge shears. He presses in on the weeds with a devilish grin.

Lili has wound up on the other side of the dividing hedge as the two of them move further into the garden. Green nettles and chunks of rope fly up from the other side while Lili tears strands of weeds apart with her TK hands. It’s a little easier, since hers wear gloves.

“So, about earlier…,” Raz begins gingerly. “Are you okay?”

Lili doesn’t break stride, but her eyes drag the ground.

“I’ve been worse. I just… I think I really screwed up this time.”

“What happened?”

Lili flashes back to earlier that evening, inside the Motherlobe. Everything is rendered in vague magenta shapes. Lili stood before a cork board covered in papers, pointing things out to the female figure from before as her father stood by. The woman’s arms were crossed stiffly. Her frame was broad and imposing. She was taller than the others in the room. Truman’s hands were clasped limply behind his back.

“Everything was going fine,” Lili continues. “I was showing mom all the cool stuff we’ve been doing and how safe the cadet missions are. She seemed, like, actually impressed for a second.”

The figure of Lili’s mother put the knuckles of her hand to her mouth. She had long hair that fell over her shoulders and a frizzy topknot that resembled a flame or firework. Her chin dipped in consideration.

“So, when are you coming back East with me?” her mother asked.

“Uh, I dunno. Things have been really busy.” Lili hadn’t had a better answer.

“Lili, be careful you’re not letting the Psychonauts get in the way of the real world.” The woman turned her intense blue gaze on Truman, who didn’t meet her eyes. “And family.”

“Why’d she look at your dad?” Raz asks in the present, poking his head over the hedge.

“Well, my dad may be really good at his job as Grand Head, but he didn’t used to be good at being, y’know, my dad,” Lili explains as casually as she can manage.

“Oh…” Raz sinks down behind the hedge as he thinks about that. “I guess Truman does hold the record for the most field hours. And office hours. And overtime hours. That probably wouldn’t leave time for much else.”

End ID]

NEXT

[lollytea]

My Luz-centric brain is currently driving me insane with the possibilities of how she may fit into the Force of Nature AU.

Like, first off, this could completely recontextualize her relationships with both characters. For Hunter, I see it going either one of two ways.

She works with, or at least meets, Force and Hunter pre-Young Blood Old Souls, and this is how Hunter is introduced to Luz, in his quiet, kinder persona. They're not super close or anything, they'd probably only meet once or twice, but their relationship is most likely positive. Then in season two Luz becomes enemies with the Golden Guard, which is kinda awkward for Hunter because he knows her and she's not some horrific wild witch, despite going against the emperor's rule? But he still plays it up, until you get to Hunting Palisman. Now the face reveal scene is more than just that, but it's also an identity revealed scene, so Luz now knows the Golden Guard is a benevolent superhero in his spare time.

She meets Hunter as the Golden Guard and the events of HP go about the same, except now we have the dramatic possibility of Luz meeting Force's super cool sidekick, only to realize it's, y'know, Hunter.

Based on how much I wrote for 1 you can probably tell which one I prefer. Speaking of Force, Luz's relationship with Willow would also change. I feel you could easily replace Luz learning Willow was gifted with plant magic with Willow being Force and not change anything, and then Luz is freaking out because oh my god I'm training to be a witch AND I'm a superhero's bestie?! Amazing! Sorry I initially meant this as a simple question but my brain kinda lost track of itself. I'll stop now.

Ooooooh yeah!! I didn't talk about Luz much in this AU because she's the main character of her own story and Willow doesn't really play a big part in the main plot of season 1 so it's easy to imagine her off having these superhero adventures when she's not involved in those season 1 hexside based antics with Luz. But yeah I did imagine that while Luz was too tied up with her witch apprenticeship to get involved in Force of Nature stuff, she is aware of it and the two stories have probably crossed paths once or twice.

Luz was clearly in the Demon Realm for a few days-possibly weeks before she met Willow in IWATA so I like to imagine that she's definitely at least heard of Force of Nature or possibly saw her in action from a distance. The emotional eye glow is actually very rare with witches so that specific shade of neon green becomes an iconic staple of the Force persona. Everybody recognizes it. So when Luz is spying on Willow and Amity from the bushes and Willow has her little temper tantrum and the vines begin to writhe and her eyes turn into that, it clicks for Luz who this person is. So their first meeting is extra cute cuz they're both geeking out over each other. It's like.

"You're human :D!!!'

"You're a superhero :D!!!"

(Sidenote: the concept of Superheroes are very much a thing from human realm pop culture. So while that is basically what Willow and Hunter are, they don't actually know that. Luz is the first person to call them Superheroes, quickly followed by Gus. And his influence with the whole penstagram thing leads to the term being thrown around as the common name for them. Ironically Willow and Hunter never use it themselves. They're pretty humble about what they do.)

Anyway, yes, Luz probably drops into a Force of Nature plot every once in a while and has definitely met Hunter once or twice. Definitely not to the extent that she gets to know him personally. He's still just "Willow--sorry Force's crime fighting partner."

However, once Luz shows up on the scene, she's hard to keep at arm's length. Hunter tries to remain reserved and aloof but she has no concept of personal space and she's managed to get close enough to catch a glimpse of him.

But yeah anyway from the little she interacted with him she got the impression that he was a gentle sweetheart. Tbh I think season 1 Luz would've been super into him (he's edgy but he's sweet.) if she wasn't so genre savvy and was subconsciously aware from the beginning that he was intended to be Willow's love interest.

Anyway Luz absolutely shatters Hunter's aloof persona by activating a glyph and he was immediately like "WOAH THAT WAS SO COOL HOW DID YOU DO THAT? :D"

Unfortunately she didn't get an opportunity to show him before they were forced to part ways.

Hunter, on his end, didn't originally know much about Luz. He knew her status as a human and he knew Belos was quite interested in her. It wasn't until the end of season 1 that she started making herself a nuisance that Hunter was obligated to see her as the opposing side. Even in canon, Hunter never seemed to hate Luz. He never believed she was evil. Just misguided and really annoying about it. He sees her similarly here so their early dynamic when he was still the GG remains the same.

It DOES make Hunting Palismen really interesting because YEAH. Luz doesn't find a stranger laying unconscious in the Golden Guard attire. She finds Willow's quiet and altruistic superhero partner, who is also apparently the smug and insufferable Golden Guard. So this identity reveal is absolutely bewildering.

And it already fits really well cuz Hunter already starts off so pissed off and tight lipped when Luz tries to talk to him in that episode.

So in this case she would attack him with questions over it. Willow said that the Golden Guard doesn't approve of Force of Nature at all so what's the deal?? Why does he do the vigilante stuff??? What's his name??? Does he have an ulterior motive??? He seems like a sweetie so why the heck is he stealing palismen??? Is he actually a good guy pretending to be a bad guy??? Or hmm maybe its the other way around....

Hunter refuses to answer any of it. Just gets all cagey and grunts in response to all her interrogating as they sneak around and try to figure out what to do now.

Some things do end up slipping out of Hunter as they spend more time together and he gets more attached to Luz. In addition to revealing the powerless witch thing, and deciding his own future, he accidentally vents a little frustration with the lack of actual helping the Golden Guard does. He doesn't mention that it's why he chose to become a vigilante but Luz is smart enough to put two and two together.

"Also..." He says, glaring at his tangled up fingers. "Don't you dare..." He begins aggressively before trailing away as he seemingly thinks better of it. "I mean...please don't...um..."

"Don't worry." Luz answers, saving him the breath. "I'm not gonna tell her."

Hunter's head snaps in her direction, surprised. Relief washes over his features. Then it all scrunches up in annoyance. Then he looks elsewhere. He nods, not looking at her.

"You're welcome." Luz chirps.

The rest of the episode is executed exactly as it is in canon, except now there's this extra layer of understanding. Luz comes out of this experience, knowing Hunter is a good guy. And now she's his secret holder 💕

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

i think what would make the huntlow ship a lot more palatable for me is if they arent portrayed with such an imbalance of physical power. i know fandom flanderizes any popular ship/characters to a single dynamic/trait but i will still grump about it.

the dynamic between hunter and willow is most often willow being the physically stronger and more powerful of the two and hunter being her simp, usually either being fearful of her power (in a funny way bc “hes a guy”) or otherwise portrayed as weak and kind of pathetic.

(and socially he is kind of pathetic i guess, although we as a fandom are sleeping on hunters pathological need to be seen as cool and intimidating in favor of framing him as a helpless lost puppy.)

(i’ve grumped about the implications of hunter, an abuse victim, joking about his romantic partner being able to beat him up, and how his support of willow, especially in fanworks, seems to be an extension of his blind trust in authority figures. but im sure there are good fanworks that address this and portrays their dynamic as more healthy.)

my beef is that the portrayal of hunter being weaker than willow in terms of strength/combat abilities is just. not true. willow has powerful magic and yeah she yoinked hunter with her vines that one time but hunter has been trained since childhood to fight. he’s visibly more built than every other kid his age and even some of the adults. he beat up kikimora TWICE.

(i count the offscreen minecart chase in eclipse lake as one of their fights) (also in that fight he was fighting kikimora AND that EC captain AND two scouts AND a few abomatons) (also i dislike the scaling down of power of the coven heads in fandom too these ppl have been fighting with magic for decades kikimora is not a weak toddler she is a powerful witch)

hunter has shown in every episode he appeared in that hes highly skilled in combat. they had to injure him, exhaust him, and give him a new staff and a mental breakdown in eclipse lake for his fight with amity to be fair.

willow, in comparison, just grows vines everywhere because she’s never had to fight. this is very evident in the hexside fight in labyrinth runners, where hunter’s the only student doing any physical fighting while the other kids haphazardly throw spells around. hunter saying willow wouldn’t be afraid of him isn’t him saying that she would beat him in a fair fight. hes pointing out her general proactive attitude.

yes, willow can tie people up with vines but only if she has a timing advantage. hunter and willow wouldn’t fight because they’re friends. but in a theoretical fair fight between them, she would have to catch hunter off guard and completely restrain and disarm him before he can make a move. (the hunter vs amity fight shows that even when she tied him up hunter could still teleport out if he had his staff. also i think he PUNCHED that abomination bubble open???)

the point is that hunter is a child soldier and willow is not. he is much more skilled in combat than she is, and his hand to hand and staff-based combat obviously can compensate for magic uses considering he’s survived this long in the EC. (the magic duels in scout training, anyone?)

also, even if willow is stronger than hunter in terms of muscle (which i sincerely doubt bc of all the child soldier training but idk some people just naturally have more muscle than others) like her friends, willow isn’t the type of resort to fighting unless absolutely necessary. shes ride or die for her friends but she usually tries to “ride” until they get cornered and HAVE to “die.” just because hunter’s first instinct for everything is “flight” doesn’t mean willow’s first instinct has to be “fight.”

the portrayal of willow as everyones cutesy therapist who solves all her friends problems with violence is an unfortunate mischaracterization. the portrayal of hunter as a helpless, depressed, and traumatized child in need for everyone to take care of him all the time is also an unfortunate mischaracterization. these portrayals are only vaguely based in canon and i suggest fans rewatch the show during the hiatus to remember their other character traits.

for every charming fanwork with willow lifting hunter like a dumbell for her workout i want another charming fanwork with hunter lifting willow like a dumbell for HIS workout. the huntlow ship is BOTH strong enough to lift each other like dumbells and if i saw that more i might even stop calling them “the huntlow ship” and maybe indulge the thought that they might end up canon.

anyway all of this is to say. if in season 3 they deal with a minor villain like that museum guy and he still doesn’t back off after willow and the rest of the hexsquad gives him an emotional shounen protag speech. and also after hunter tries to get everyone to run away but it doesnt work bc the museum guy traps them or he falls face first into a puddle. what if willow beats the shit out of him. and after shes done she hands the reins to hunter and he beats the shit out of him. and somewhere during all that gus gives one of them a metal chair like that one MoringMark comic would that be the shit or what

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 26: No One Left Behind

Fandom: Owl House

Prompts;

Seperated

Rope Burns

"Why did you save me?"

Alright, I'm gonna try this again, hopefully it'll be better than the first one I did :/ since I don't want to do any spoilers for season 3, this is an AU. Im probably gonna give it Beta vibes, but it'll run in whatever direction it wants to once I start so

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Luz groans, head pounding and body one big bruise. She tries to reach up to rub at her aching head but meets resistance, a test shows it simple rope- rude- but a concern nonetheless.

She peels her eyes blinking blearily in the flickering light of wherever she is. Flexing her wrists where they're tied behind her, she gets a look around and realizes shes alone. She'd been with Willow, Gus and Amity, one of the teams scouting out the castle, they'd been attacked together, but hopefully they'd escaped.

Groaning she rolls to her knees, maneuvering until she gets her legs through her arms, bringing them infront of her. Her wrists are red and irritated beneath the too tight rope, but she ignores it in favor of grabbing a loose stone and scratching a glyph into the stone floor. A spike of ice shoots up and she uses it to cut through through the rope easily. Shes still offended thats all they used, as she rubs at the raw skin and stands.

Shes probably in the castle, couldn't have been out long enough for a longer move. This could work to her advantage. If she can make a mental map of some kind, get some insider information, it could he useful. She just had to get out of here, which shouldnt be so hard. They always seemed to underestimate her.

The bars to the cell are old to say the least, some fire and a pillar of ice could knock em out pretty easy, but it wouldnt be quiet. So, mess with the lock instead, and get out quietly. Being the apprentice of Eda, she picked up a few tips and tricks, being a curious child with too much time on her hands she knew a thing or two as well, so she gets it undone almost too quickly. The door swings open with a slight creaking, but no guards come running so she takes a hesitant step out and looks down around. Its a torch lit hallway, with 8 cells and stairs at the far end, shes in the fourth cell down, the ones past her are unoccupied- unsurprising considering most people go to the conformatorium. She makes her way towards the stairs, the next two cells are empty, and she can see a small alcove up ahead, a table with her stuff and a few other items.

She freezes before she hits the first cell, hearing a wheezing breath and some shuffling. She pulls her mask up, not that it will do much good, and creeps forward, completely surprised to find the Golden Guard. He'd been absent recently sure, after that one mission where they'd almost died and hed found out the truth of the Emperors intentions. But she'd assumed hed escaped or something. Not thrown in a cell- for a while from the looks of it- and left there to rot. The guy is sickly looking, skinny and pale with some serious looking bruises and cuts, scars sticking out sharply. Hes unconcious, breaths wheezing in his chest, and looking utterly pitiful.

She weighs the pros and cons in her head before sighing, and unlocking his cell. She draws another glyph, using vines to secure GG- who is far too light- to her back. Grunting she mumbles under her breath as she collects her things from the guards station alcove. She has quite a few prewritten glyphs in her bag, and her bat is a comforting weight in her hand. GG is a little off setting, messes with her plan a little, but she can still do this. She got captured, so she needed to make it worth while.

The stairs are long and dimly lit, shes expecting guards, resistance, but is met with none. Shes beginning to think this is some kind of trap, or else these guys are stupider than she thought. Both are reasonable assumptions.

Shes leaning towards the first thought though, as she finds every room and corridor empty that she passes.

"Well this isnt looking good for either of us, I think its time we make a hasty retreat."

Luz tries every door, and finds the important ones blocked by some type of magic, the ones that could be their exit. Shes getting extremely frustrated but also a little flattered that they did actually try to contain her. She tries glyphs on every exit with no result, most windows are too small, and shes beginning to panic. The one window she finds big enough to fit through, is quite a ways up, and her floating glyph can only do so much when their are spikes below. They'll need to climb down some how, to avoid impalement.

"Alright. Lets find some rope."

…

"Oh Titan, if we make it out of this, you better be on our side or else Im haunting you for eternity."

Shes finalizing her anchor, hoping the rope will hold their weight, or her glyphs will cushion their fall, either way, shes just hoping this works.

The castle shakes and she freezes, listening closely and hearing distant explosions and the trap clicks into place. They were gonna get rid of her- and the Golden Guard- in a fiery blast. Apparently the Emperor was tired of her interfering.

"Alright, now or never." Assuring GG is secured she takes a deep breath and begins the climb out the window.

Oh if her mami could see her now.

She forces herself to stare at the rope and wall, to not look down at her certain doom. GG stuttering breathing is surprisingly grounding, reminding her shes got more than just her life in her hands. But even she cant be expected to prevail when the whole castle shakes with explosions.

Her feet slip, her hands falter, and shes falling, theyre falling. A shriek is ripped from her throat as she scrambles to get a hold of the rope again. The skin on her hands burns and rips and HURTS and she cant slow their descent, the castle crumbling in front of her, the spikes getting closer and closer, she gives up on the rope, and ignoring the pain, pulls out several glyphs.

Plants to cover the spikes, ice to hopefully slide them to safety, and finally the slowing glyph. She closes her eyes and doesnt open them until they stop rolling, though GG breaks from her back at some point.

They've made it past the spikes, dirt settling around them as Luz tries to breathe, sprawled out and ignoring everything besides the fact she alive. The castle gives another rumble as it starts to crumble towards the ground, and she decides its best to keep going.

She hisses as she moves her hands, finding the sight terribly gross and gagging a bit. Theres skin missing and blood bubbling up and red and irritated skin surrounding it all. Rope burns are apparently no joke and all her shows lied to her…

She cant do much about it now, she has to focus, and get back to the other and make sure they're okay.

"Why did you save me?" A voice croaks, startling her from her thoughts, her head whips towards GG.

She stares at him a minute, pale face covered in dirt and eyes bloodshot, some new wounds from their fall blossoming slowly. She could answer him a million ways, he could be part of the trap somehow, but his eyes say otherwise.

"Theres good in you, but even if there wasnt, no one gets left behind. I'd like to think you'd have done the same."

He stares intently as a sick person is able before his eyes close again,

"Thank you."

"Dont thank me yet, still have to get somewhere safe. Come on, lets get out of here."

[mdhwrites]

Willow or Gus Should Not Have Been in TOH

This is... NOT about their characters. It simply isn’t. It also ISN’T to say both shouldn’t have been in the show or to say one should have been more important than the other. Who they are honestly has nothing to do with this blog. Their magic is what is fundamentally wrong with having both characters in the show because they do not fit major themes of the show simply by how their magic is. Let’s get into it. And to do that, we actually can’t talk about Willow and Gus. Instead, let’s discuss the Coven system as it is presented by the show. The coven system is an oppressive order put upon witches to force them to choose one coven to join for the rest of their life. It robs them of the ability to do any other type of magic and is implied in story to be much of why the current state of the Isles is so selfish, mean and unruly when compared to the time of the Isles when people used all types of magic as they pleased. It is also explicitly a selfish lie made by the evil ruler of the land so as to work towards a grand plan of his literally hundreds of years in the making, or at least 50 since he first came to power. It is meant to be seen as a categorically bad thing. A lie to under power people with the claim that the dead god, if it’s a god at all, believes that the coven system is the ‘right’ way to use magic. This, in story, wouldn’t actually be hard to keep consistent actually. You have characters always showing themselves at their most powerful using combinations of magic while also avoiding having anyone who seems... blessed... to only use one magic. Yeah... NOW let’s talk about Gus and Willow. The twin prodigies. We’ll talk about Gus first because he is the actually less egregious of the two. He is called a prodigy in story and skipped two grades in school due to how good he is at illusion magic. He is also commonly depicted as the best illusionist in the show, even to the point where an errant panic attack of his is strong enough to accidentally beat the literal strongest illusionist in the government ON ACCIDENT. I also don’t believe we literally ever see him use another type of magic. The closest is when he borrows Luz’s glyphs and that is hardly him using a different school of magic when lack of faith in those glyphs and his abilities still lead to incredible results (Luz’s glyphs being bad is another blog itself). All of this... CAN be explained though. Or most of it. There’s no excusing the panic attack taking out a head of state in their own field. Gus is an energetic, imaginative guy and that energy goes well with illusions. He theoretically has been training with and mastering illusions from a young age. He has put in the work to be where he is and so at least there’s a basis for why he is as strong as he is. For anyone wondering why I’m not discussing Amity in this blog, THAT’S WHY. She explicitly put in the work to be a skilled abomination user and she honestly doesn’t do anything outrageous with those powers when compared to other abomination users in the show. She never shows up her dad. Gus shows up literally everyone else. But uh... Let’s talk about that other side and Willow. Half a Witch Willow who is never depicted as having practiced plant magic in a serious capacity. She likes plants but she was explicitly made to study a different track because of the career options tied to it. When we see younger her, she’s not using plant magic but she is failing at other types of magic. In fact, ANY time Willow uses a different track of magic than plants, she fails miserably at it. Without fail. BUT with plants? Well... With no training, no preparation, and a single seed, she turns the common area of a school into a garden of vines INSTANTLY. In episode six of the show, three episodes after she starts practicing plant magic, she takes out an entire group of monster hunters, who are adults, and specifically trained for combat, SINGLE HANDEDLY as neither of her companions have any form of combat magic at that point. She is so good at plants that once she is no longer the target of Amity’s bullying, she is somehow immediately extremely popular for her use of plant magic as to overshadow a sport’s star at the start of their team’s season. With no training. Willow is in fact actually stated by one character (and this could be hyperbole by a friend tbf) as “The strongest witch they know” while they are actively apprenticed to a witch who studies all types of magic and is the self proclaimed strongest witch in the Boiling Isles. The show backs this claim up though. Willow is CONSTANTLY defined by just how stupidly powerful her magic is and how often it is effortless for her. She doesn’t break a sweat, she doesn’t need to try, she is just on a DIFFERENT LEVEL. As if blessed by a god. As if a god said to her, “You will practice plant magic and nothing else.” So technically, if either Gus or Willow were to be taken out, I would personally argue for thematic integrity, Willow should have been above Gus because she is so much more blatantly blessed to just be powerful. To simply be better but only with one magic. But they both have this problem. So why not get rid of both? Why aren’t I saying that they’re flawed and problematic characters for the show? Well... There is a case to be had there, especially with Amity existing. Especially with Amity’s social pressures from her parents making it so she should be more pro-coven than any other character (another reason why Reaching Out is a bad episode). But I’m kind of trying to be fair and not say cut them both even if a reduced cast probably would not have been a bad choice for the show. But the other reason is argumentative balance. If you have one character who has a reason to believe in the coven system and another who is firmly against it, and Luz in the middle being pulled between them, that opens up some good possibilities for conversations, dynamics, episodes, etc. The two trying to make their point made and prove it. And who would be this theoretical other character? This champion for multiple magics? Do I have some new OC to show- IT’S FUCKING VINEY. VINEY WAS RIGHT FUCKING THERE AND THEY DIDN’T MAKE HER A MAIN SUPPORTING CHARACTER! WHAT THE FU-

*cough, cough* Sorry. Lost it for a moment. But yeah, Viney. She is a force of personality, steals the show in almost any scene she’s in and, oh yeah, USES MULTIPLE MAGICS. Healing and beast keeping. And she’s not depicted to be some god at either, sure (not until they claim she’s the best healer in S2 but *SIIIIIIGH*), but that actually strengthened the point in S1. She shouldn’t be the best in either but how she incorporates the two should allow her to best others who only use one. That would actually disprove the coven system. Because as it is? We have to take the show’s word that the coven system is a lie. That it’s a bad thing. Because if we take the show’s actions, if we look at our supporting cast and what they use... You have an abomination mage who at least has an excuse to be the best at her age. You have an illusionist who is younger than even the rest of the main teenage cast but is literally able to beat the strongest mages in his field on accident, he is that blessed with power. And a plant mage who never trained but once she starts using it is immediately the best in her school where PLANT MAGIC IS TRAINED. And only one of these people ever uses another type of magic, the first one, and it’s not even a type of magic technically claimed by any one coven (that has to do with general issues with the coven system being dumb though and that’s another blog). And she does it ONCE. So... Yeah. Someone needed to be cut and Viney needed to be added. Or either of Viney’s friends. Or just literally anyone who could rep ‘wild magic’ besides Eda because Eda never makes a case beyond “It restricts a witch’s freedom.” Well... Sorry, but if literally all witches, especially those we get to know, seem just to be wasting their time with other types of magic, it seems like to me the coven system is simply helping them live better, more enriching lives by it being okay for them to use the one magic god blessed them with rather than them being forced to be taught multiple in school. Sure worked out for Willow and Gus.

[i-am-a-scholar-of-magic]

Terraforming Terrors, The Power of Plant Magic

Introduced early in the series, the coven system of the Boiling Isles divides magic into nine broad categories or “tracks,” one of which a witch or demon must choose by law to specialize in while giving up the others. Each branch has its own unique facets and places where it overlaps with some of the others, but they are all fascinating. 

The very first in the series is Plant magic.

Represented by the color green and a sigil of a closed man-eating plant, Plant magic involves controlling the flora of the Boiling Isles - which given their vicious and mobile nature can be quite formidable. 

Plant magic stands as the first named and demonstrated branch of magic in the series - unless you count Eda’s reference to “illusion” in regards to Adeghast the episode prior. Willow Park both names and demonstrates its power in “I Was A Teenage Abomination,” which also serves as the first hint at the coven system before its official reveal. 

Plant magic is first shown in a subtle, gentle manner with Willow attempting to heal a flower she had stepped on. After a bit of antagonism, Willow loses her temper and shows exactly how dangerous the art can be by intuitively summoning a mass of thorny vines that snag Luz and lead to their forming friendship. Willow later shows her power in defeating a number of Abominations - hinted to be a powerful and respected field of magic - and temporarily disabling Principal Bump. 

Despite the series demonstrating its power and utility on several occasions, it is implied early on that Plant magic is held in lower regard than, say, Abomination magic. Willow’s fathers pressured her to join the abomination track at Hexside due to “more opportunities.” *An earlier post addresses this in more detail.*

The most frequent demonstration of Plant magic involves summoning vines to attack others, most notably by Willow but also by Terra Snapdragon, the head witch of the Plant Coven. Willow later demonstrates the ability to summon carnivorous flowers in “The First Day,” but still defaults on her vines, which have been shown combatting numerous demon hunters at once and fast enough to snatch Hunter - an accomplished flyer - out of the air, as well as being able to quickly transport herself and others underground. She later shows “scaled” vines to ride on and bending trees to weigh down opponents in “For the Future.”

Terra Snapdragon has demonstrated the sheer power and vitality of this branch of magic as well. She favors the use of thorned vines and plants that resemble venus flytraps, and her skill is enough to easily wrangle Kikimora’s hand dragon and strike fear into the Emperor’s aide with her mere presence. 

Another interesting facet of Plant magic is that it seems to cover the classical element of water within the coven system, which makes perfect sense. Willow casts a spell to water plants in “Something Ventured, Someone Framed,” and a member of St. Epiderm’s Plant track uses water in a very “waterbending” fashion to attack a young Raine Whispers in “Them's The Breaks, Kid.”

Finally, Plant magic seems to be very strongly tied to the user’s emotions, though this has only been shown with Willow. More specifically, it seems to react to repressed emotions. In her first appearance, Willow’s repressed anger caused her to lash out with vines, which led to her meeting Luz when the vines ensnared her. Willow is on a few other occasions shown accidentally summoning vines when frustrated or angry, such as “Hooty’s Moving Hassle” or “Really Small Problems.” This comes to a head in “For the Future” when Willow suppressing her fear and trauma leads to her magic reaching out of her control and nearly binding herself, Gus, and Hunter in a veritable tomb of vines until the boys are able to convince her to accept her emotions. This, by her own admission, returns her control. 

An early participant and continual focus of the series thanks to Willow and Terra, Plant magic is certainly a force of nature in the right hands. 

Thanks for reading! More to come …!

[guest-1-2-3]

my discombobulated screeching about toh for the future

I just watched it and I am so overwhelmed like I always am

So HERE IS (almost) EVERYTHING I THOUGHT ABOUT IT

The Collector's changes to the Boiling Isles instantly reminded me of like what Discord did in that one mlp episode.

But like Collector's really like. A really powerful child. They're not evil, but they don't have a ton of human understanding? Or like empathy ig he just wants to have fun and have friends! Like my heart was crying out when Collector kept emphasizing how King is his best friend. Plus the fact that it's implied that this kid is like...alone? What happened to the rest of the Collectors? Obviously the stuff they're doing isn't good but I like the fact that they aren't making them EVIL HEARTLESS VILLAIN but rather a mega-powerful kid with understandably no understanding of empathy and stuff. We know the things they're doing aren't right but their actions MAKE SENSE.

"Oh come on. It's not as if a swamp ghost will inexplicably appear if you say his name." BELOS IS SECRETLY VOLDEMORT GASP

Hunter is going through it. Luz is going through it. Boscha is going through it. Gus is going through it. WILLOW IS GOING THROUGH IT. My god they're all incredibly traumatized.

Speaking of Willow OH MY GOD. They showed her own struggles so well??? She's always helping everyone else at the sacrifice of her own wellbeing and she represses her own emotions to help others SJDFJHKSK. It really ties in to her whole "Out of sight, out of mind" thing only SHES DOING IT WITH HER STRESS AND EMOTIONS

She really reminds me of Adora from spop. They sort of deal with this pressure to help everyone and save everyone in the similar way of sacrificing their own needs.

I'm really glad Willow got help from Gus and Hunter bc they're right, Willow's always been shown helping everyone out and it's really nice to see her own struggles and her own need for help. That scene with all the vines? Impeccable. She kept trying to handle it by herself and then she fell back into her "I'm just half-a-witch" thing. It's like, she bases her worth upon how she can help everyone else, and when she can't do that...

But then Hunter and Gus jump in with the IT'S OKAY TO LET IT OUT YOUVE HELPED US ALL SO MUCH and my HEART????

Btw Gus appreciation for that scene. There's a lot of focus on Hunter helping out Willow (justified, he was hugely helping I am not devaluing his help I love him so much and he popped off there) but I haven't seen nearly as much mention of Gus popping in there with his own positive affirmations. <3 They're both really great friends to Willow and I love it all so much

Also the Huntlow. Ngl, my original Huntlow opinions ranged from mild dislike to indifference but the new episode really gave me some appreciation for it. Just in general their bond has been getting stronger and things. I get the sense that it's moving a bit fast--which makes sense given all the time cut off the series--but their relationship, platonic or otherwise, is really sweet. I love them supporting each other.

CAMILA APPRECIATION. She's been handling this really well, and her communicating with and supporting Luz?? She's such a GOOD MOM. I also love how she noticed something was up with Willow and made sure to ask her about how she was feeling. Camila is best mom. And her baseball bat is beautiful.

Hunter. Beginning of episode my man is REALLY GOING THROUGH IT. Which makes sense, he's dealing with the grief from losing Flapjack, he was just possessed by Belos, he almost died, etc. I think it's really interesting to see his own stress response. He's kind of paranoid and super on alert. It makes a lot of sense for his character. I do feel like his mood shifts very abrubtly though in the middle? It was a little jarring how it just...changed immediately after the Willow situation, but I do like the fact that he's slightly happier again so yeah. Also COOL NEW TELEPORTY MAGIC. I love that.

Belos. Stinky slime man. The whole Caleb visions with the dagger floating above his head was very Hamlet-esque. Also he was just...possessing the dead bodies of his former grimwalkers? That's not terrifying at all. Istg my mood switched so fast with all of the possessions 'cause at first I was like OH HE'S GONNA POSSESS A FORMER GRIMWALKER?? IS HUNTER GOING TO HAVE TO FIGHT HIMSELF?? And then i remembered their bodies have been decomposing for years so...no. And then I was hyped for Odalia-Belos but then he just SUDDENLY POSSESSED PUPPET RAINE and my heart dropped so fast

Raine being possessed by Belos on TOP OF already being controlled by the Collector. Jesus Christ. They're really being possessed a lot aren't they.

I had many thoughts and I also have thoughts on King and New Hexside and Boscha and Matt and Luz and Amity and like yk basically everyone else but I've run out of steam so that's it for this

FOR THE FUTURE WAS SO GOOD. THAT'S MY LAST STATEMENT HERE.

[pra370r1an]

So heya, i have to ask for the designs of mentors and commanders because i want so bad to do doodles of it, if you have only sketches i can work with it

Well you can find the designs in the fic itself but I'll grab them for you cuz I would love some sketches (and that goes for anyone else)

Luz: has a long green pirates captain jacket (think captain hook or something) and wears a striped turtle neck with a red beanie type hat. (the whole ensemble is based on the Beta design) she wields a red cutlass and either Owlbert on a borrowed staff or her harpoon ("blade was larger than a knife but smaller than a sword, one side flaring out before curving back forming a wicked hook" with glyphs and runes running along the staff part)

Luz's Mask: "It was orange along the sides, an almost white V was between the painted orange eyes, with the rest painted in a brown and black feather pattern. Two black horns or ears were on the top of the mask." and is based on the Long eared owl specifically this picture https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/assets/photo/68647431-720px.jpg

Luz's scars: Her left ear is missing a piece in the middle "The mark from the middle of her left ear continued diagonally across her face, just missing her left eye, scarring the top of her nose and ending just through her right eyebrow. Another scar ran from the right corner of her mouth and twisted up giving her serious face a slightly amused look. And a third ran the length of her forehead, disappearing into her hairline.

Finally, her neck had a scar running its front length, but this one was covered with the angry red mark of a cauterization burn in the shape of a hand. The black collar was open at the front, the two sides hanging just below this scar, with what looked like mesh circles facing out."

Eda is in her harpy form tho I know there's plenty of art with her as a pirate out there.

Amity's disguise: "She had grabbed a vest similar to Lilith’s, this one purple to match the handkerchief, and had a gold hoop in her left ear. Her long lilac hair uncovered for once, parted to the right with an undercut of brown on the left. Annoyingly, there was still a bit of brown coming in under the lilac. Cavalier boots that almost reached her knee and her saber on her belt completed the look."

Willow: She just has the yellow jacket from her beta design and a blue bandana over her head with her great sword "The blade was almost as tall as her and was about two hands wide. Intricate vine decals ran through the hilt and handle."

Lilith: "a dark grey vest and white shirt combo with a red sash around her waist" with a knapsack

Boscha: "She had borrowed a red jacket from one of Salty’s sailors, mentioning it matched her hair. Over that, she had her bandoleer of potions and a knapsack filled with her potion tools and ingredients."

Skara: "She had a simple white shirt with a red handkerchief tied around her neck, while her earrings had been replaced with gold hoops that sailors liked." And she has her harp of course.

Gus: "It was a light-blue frock jacket, not unlike Luz’ green one. Gold buttons ran the length and the ends of the sleeves were folded back showing pure white with several more buttons decorating it."

"Cavalier boots rose up his legs, his shirt shifted to something closer to the crews makeshift uniforms, and even a gold earring showed up in his ear."

And I think that's just about everyone thats different. The twins and Salty are the same etc etc and I doubt youd want to doodle Sam and Paulsgrove

[dragoneyes618]

The Death of Spring

His name isn't really Hadie.

Everyone calls him that, but it's not his name. He doesn't remember his real name anymore. He would know it if he heard it, he thinks, but he'll only know it if someone says it, and no one does. 

Not even his father calls him by his name; his father does not wish to draw attention to him, banished and weakened as the once-mighty Lord of the Dead now is, even far below the earth beneath the suffocating presence of the barrier, and names have power, names attract attention that nobody wants. And so his father doesn't address him by any name other than "son."

That is what led to the name he is called. That is his identity. Hades' son.

In the first few years of the Isle, whenever anyone cared to notice the blue-haired boy running around, since no one knew his name, they called him "Hades' son." Eventually that got shortened to something sounding like "Hadieson," and sometime after that it became simply Hadie.

He doesn't think anyone else on the Isle even knows remembers that his name isn't really Hadie. Then again, why should they?

Hadie. Hades' son. That is all who he is. That is what gave him the only name he has. That is his reputation, his father's legacy, all who he is on the Isle, and he knows almost nothing but the Isle.

But he is not only Hades' son.

He is also the son of the Lady of Spring.

-

Hadie was very young when he last saw his mother.

He's not sure how young, exactly. He was old enough to remember her, but for someone of his bloodline that means virtually nothing. It's no use asking his father; living down in the Underworld as he did until the Isle, and living down in the catacombs as he does now, he's never had the best grasp of time.

When he thinks of her, he remembers an impression of colors and life: of green, deeper and more vibrant than any emerald; of ferns and forests, clover and moss, pine trees and sage, the pale green of new shoots and leaves, the dark green of a deep-rooted forest. Viridescent.

And there's brown, too, and not just one shade of brown but dozens. The brown of tree bark, of maple trees and pines, oaks and willows, even the reddish of redwoods and the different streaks of birch; and the deep brown of rich, healthy soil, bursting with the potential for life.

She was gone by the time he was five. Or rather, he was.

-

He remembers his father raging, flashes of blue, blistering heat. He did not go quietly, was not subdued easily.

He remembers his mother screaming when he was taken too. The earth shaking, not with his father's rage but his mother's, roots cracking open the floor and winding around her enemies, branches and vines growing from the chairs and attacking anyone near them.

He remembers the two sides talking, arguing, shouting, fighting. Over him. His mother and the vague, shadowy, half-remembered forms of his older siblings on one side, along with the denizens of his father's realm, the ones who served him, or who were his allies, or the strange creatures that called the Underworld home, that frightened strangers out of their wits but were his playmates.

On the other side, the ones from the upper world, too bright for his eyes, uncomfortable in the Underworld: the rest of his family, or so he's told.

But they were all family, weren't they?

"Do not try my patience!" His grandfather had shouted, glaring at Persephone as the air between them crackled with ozone. "They wished to investigate you, because you are his wife! I told them of the circumstances of your marriage, and that your ties to me no doubt outweigh it. Your half-brother spoke in your support as well, and they value his word. But your son is his! He will be just like him!"

"I thought you prided yourself on being different from your brothers, Father." Persephone paced furiously, sharp-thorned roses sprouting in her footsteps. "Is my son - the first child I have borne my husband in millennia - to be punished because you hate his father, just as your son was because my husband hated you?"

"That is beside the point!" Lightning flickered above them all, although it struck nobody, and the ground shook.

"Is it?" Persephone asked quietly. "And what about my other children, my adult children-" She gestured at them. "- who are at least responsible for whatever their actions have been, instead of my youngest, scarcely more than an infant?"

"He is a villain, like his father! Even if he isn't yet, he will be! If the Fates foretell it-"

"And have they? My husband is a villain, yes-"

"As well you know! He kidnapped you!"

"With your permission," she reminded him. "He may be a villain, but my son is not. None of my children are."

The ground shook again, roots breaking it open to snare around their ankles and hold them tight, the beams of the walls coming to life and trapping them in their branches.

But it wasn't enough.

He'll always remember how his other family looked, as they came for him.

-

Hadie remembers his small hand slipping out of his mother's large one, oak leaves falling between them, her eyes the brilliant blue of rushing water, her anguished wail piercing his ears. He remembers how she sounded as though it were yesterday. It is his last clear memory of her. Sometimes he wakes with her cry still ringing in his ears.

-

The weather has been strange in Auradon these past couple of decades.

No more do the temperatures rise in summer's balmy heat, to chill in autumn as the leaves turn red and brown and fall, to fall still more in winter as it rains and snows, to thaw with the advent of spring as birds sing and plants grow, only for summer's heat to fill the land again as the endless patient cycle begins once more.

There is no cycle anymore. It is either unbearably cold, or scorching hot.

For a full six months of the year now, not merely three or four, it is icily cold. Either it is raining near-frozen water, sometimes with actual chips of ice mixed in; or it is snowing hard enough to rival the worst snowstorms, with snowdrifts piling up everywhere; or the wind is slicing across one's skin, leaving it reddened and dry.

There is no springtime thaw. Oh, perhaps two days or three of warning, when the snow and ice melts, usually flooding a small town or two, but no more than that, not before summer arrives.

For the other half of the year it is summer, and not the balmy summer days the older generations remember with fondness. These summers have the full heat of the scorching sun, fiery and withering, raging down from the sky. Vegetation and skin is scorched. No rain falls, not at all.

These are modern times, and Auradon does not suffer from famine like the mortals of old. They build greenhouses, to protect their crops from the winter. They grow plants indoors, underground, to protect them from the summer. They import food from countries lucky enough to still have a normal weather cycle. They grow hardy food that can survive these strange winters or summers; turnips have become a common commodity.

And yet it is not the same. It can never be the same.

No one knows why the weather is like this now. It's chalked up to some strange climate thing. 

Schoolchildren dutifully learn about the four seasons, even though they have only ever known two.

-

It is always spring, on the Isle.

The weather is always perfect; not too hot, not too cold. There is always a light breeze, not strong enough to even be annoying, not weak enough to let the air stagnate, even if the smell it carries from the docks is mostly smoke and rotting fish.

The sun beams down gently, warming the Isle, yet not enough for anyone to get too hot or dehydrated. The rains are always cool and gentle, yet it never rains so much as for anyone to become sick with chill, or for it to flood.

No one knows why. It's chalked up to an unforeseen side effect of the barrier. None of the Isle children have ever seen snow.

-

Hadie loves being outdoors in the sun.

He spends most of his time there. He can sit for an entire day on a rooftop, doing nothing but basking in the sun like a cat. He'll make his way to the docks and breathe the salty air. He can and has been outdoors for days at a time.

When he's underground, away from the sun and the outdoors....well, he doesn't like it. It makes him tired and lethargic. It slows his mind down so that he cannot think clearly.

His father is the exact opposite; he lives underground, as close to his precious Underworld as he can get, and shies away from daylight, only venturing into it if he absolutely has to. 

This is why Hadie seldom sees his father nowadays. His father is a creature of the Underworld, while he - well, he is also a creature of the Underworld, but he is his mother's son as well.

-

Everyone knows that Hades can kill with a touch.

His powers are weakened on the Isle, but by no means gone. A single touch, skin to skin - merely a finger brushing a wrist - and death comes to those unlucky enough to cross his path.

After the first week on the Isle, everyone ceded to Hades. He was not challenged when he chose to take the catacombs for himself and his son, nor when he wished to be left alone on his own terms. Everyone does their best to avoid him unless they need him for some reason, and he likes it that way.

No one knows if Hadie can do the same.

But everyone knows that Hadie leaves footprints of dead grass behind him when he walks, and that, on the rare occasions he is angry, every plant for several meters around him will wither and die.

It doesn't make sense, there's no magic here, some whisper.

Death exists here just like everywhere else, others point out.

And so Hadie is avoided just like his father is. No one speaks to him. If he comes along people rush out of his way. Spaces in crowds magically open up for him, even in crowded places like the market.

The same thing happens to his father, but his father revels in it. He finds it amusing. Hadie doesn't.

On the plus side, this means that nobody ever bothers Hadie, and he is free from the many conflicts on the Isle.

On the minus side, it means he's never had anyone he could call a friend.

But he's used to being lonely, so it doesn't bother him, or so he tells himself.

-

Hadie is in between the generations of the Isle.

All the villains exiled here were adults, or nearly so, when they came. He wasn't. He was a child.

All the children here were born here. They are all younger than him by several years at least. He is an adult long before any of them are.

He is too young for any of the adults to see him as an equal, too old for any of the children to. He has no hope of forming any alliance, any friendship, even if it weren't for the fact that grass withers where he walks, no matter how much he wills it otherwise.

Everyone knows him, but no one is close to him, except his father. He has no equal on the Isle. On an island full of people, Hadie is still alone.

-

"I don't understand you," his father sighs, when Hadie has been in the catacombs for three days in a row and cannot bear to stay one hour longer, and has just told his father that he's going back up into the daylight. "None of your siblings were like this. I don't know how you would ever have managed in the Underworld."

His father speaks to him in Greek, Ancient Greek: the language he has always spoken, the language Hadie grew up speaking, the language they still speak to each other.

Hadie's not sure if his father actually doesn't speak any other language, or if he just likes the frustrated looks he gets from anyone trying to talk to him. Every once in a while, if any fight on the Isle takes too long to resolve, if too many people are taking sides, if they are all too stubborn to see any conclusion, someone will have the idea to get Hades to broker an agreement, the idea being that when the man talking terms can literally kill you with a touch both sides are suddenly very eager to agree to whatever he says.

So someone will come talk to Hades, who will stare in incomprehension without asking Hadie to translate, until they send Ursula - who, if Hadie understands the tangled family tree correctly, or what he's been able to make out of it from his father's terse answers, is a cousin of some degree of remove - to talk to him, breaking her teeth on the Ancient Greek she intentionally mispronounces and complaining that she's missing her soap operas for this. 

Finally his father will venture out to the upper world, complaining all the while, come up with some agreement both sides will listen to - usually something like "stop fighting over this stupid rowboat, break it up for parts if you have to, I could've been napping right now," - and go back to his beloved catacombs.

Hadie arrived on the Isle speaking nothing but Ancient Greek. He spent the first few years in the catacombs with his father, only venturing out for the first time when his father realized why he was so sick and tired, carrying him outside in his arms so he could sleep in the sun, waking lively and energetic by nightfall. After that he spent more and more time outside, but scarcely anyone would talk to him, with the result that he did not learn to speak the language most of the Isle speaks until he was nearly ten.

Even now that he is fluent in it, he still has an accent, still pronounces the words oddly, still has to search for a term he cannot quite remember. The only person you regularly speak to not speaking that language will do that to you.

It's just another thing that makes him different from everyone.

"Mother would have been in the Underworld," he tells his father. He does not think he would sicken if underground for too long in the presence of his mother. In her absence, he must suffice with her spring. "Some of the time, at least."

"True," his father acknowledges. "True."

-

Hadie can kill plants with ease. He's never dared try with an animal, or, well, something more than an animal; he is not ruthless like his father is. But he fells like he could.

Sometimes, however, he will sit down by a flower or a shrub and concentrate as hard as he can. And the flower will grow a foot taller, the shrub will sprout new leaves, a month's growth taking place in minutes.

He loves when he's able to do this, for it is a connection to his mother.

-

Sometimes he dreams of his older siblings. He hopes they're real dreams, and not just figments of his imagination. After all, isn't that what his sister Melinoë can do, give and take and affect dreams-

"-and nightmares, and madness, and so on," she finishes helpfully, ghostly pale on one side, dark as night on the other, both eyes burning a soft orange. "Nightmares can lead to madness, you know. I can drive people to insanity with them."

"Have you?" he asks.

"Oh, Melinoë, don't tease the boy," chides Zagreus, tall, dark and handsome. "He certainly has enough on his plate without you."

"Neither of you are helping," Macaria sighs, consternation overtaking her normally serene features.

They banter like all siblings everywhere, and sometimes even remember to include him in it. He likes it. It makes him feel like he belongs. He wishes he could know them more.

They tell him of their lives, and teach him about their family, who is related to who and who hates who and who owes who what, all of which will be important for him to remember if he ever gets out of here. They tell him about the Underworld and its denizens. They tell him about Mother, and send her love.

"What's my name, my real name?" he asks them, but he always wakes up before they can answer.

-

"Did you not expect the Underworld to have a queen?" Persephone asks.

"I had not thought of it," Ben answers honestly.

She laughs, sharply. "In my husband's absence, I must run the Underworld. I will speak to you as one ruler to another - did you never wonder at the weather?"

"The weather?" he echoes.

"Yes," she says. "The ancient agreement between my mother and my husband stated that for a portion of the year, I would be in the Underworld with him. My mother mourned me during that time, and so nothing grew then. When I returned to her, she rejoiced, and spring came. Life returned to the earth. Everything began to grow."

She paced. "But my husband is gone, taken to the Isle. My youngest son was taken with him. My other children are too set in their ways to take charge of the Underworld, and none of them would want to anyway. And as their mother, I have precedence over them. And so it is I who rules the Underworld, until my husband returns. And I cannot leave."

She faced him. "I cannot leave here, young king. I cannot return to the sun and the sky. I make this place into a parody of spring, to suit my tastes, but it is just that - a parody." She motions to the throne room they stand in, the vines wrapped around the pillars, the flowers and leaves on the walls, the floor covered completely with roots. 

"I have not seen my mother these past twenty years. She mourns my absence, as she always does. There will be no spring in the world above, not until I am able to return to her. Not until my husband and my son are returned to me."

[ciar-galyna]

A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter Four

Word Count : 8.7k

Warning(s) : N/A

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Lyphon

I always preferred eating outside to eating inside. I want to eat where there is sun on my back and I’m surrounded by fresh air with a cool breeze that quietly passes by, ruffling my hair a little. Maybe surrounded by beautiful flowers or plants or trees. But in general, eating outside is better. I don’t care if it’s a feast or a small snack, it doesn’t really matter so long as I’m filling my stomach and I’m not stuck inside a dull castle.

And the Spring Court is the perfect place to have a picnic. It was Lucien’s idea originally, Tamlin was hesitant but complied, leading us to a field and setting everything up. Lucien explained that there several snacks, foods, and treats were set up with tea and some fruit juices. He had helped me avoid sitting on any snacks or creases that would cause a spill. Now we all just sit in silence, enjoying our lunches.

In the background I can hear birds singing as a gentle breeze dances with the vines of a nearby willow tree. A small creature is running through the grass, probably a bunny. I imagine it’s still quite beautiful here. My family had visited this Court a few times for official business. Each time I was enchanted and thought it was gorgeous here. Our plants never looked as lively, vibrant. Our gardens could never compare to the one’s of Theron’s for example. Even after he taught us how to garden better. Maybe it was the soil. Maybe our home could never host life properly, or at least normal life.

Of all the Courts I believe Spring was always my favourite. Winter was too cold, though Gyn always loved it’s frigid weather and her ties to it. Autumn was too cruel, or at least the Vanserra’s always had incredibly untrustworthy characteristics to them, except Lucien, who has proven he’s nothing like the Vanserra’s I’ve met. Summer was nice, but it usually had more tropical plants, less fields of flowers and more water. Dawn was always nice though, a comforting feeling place that always played neutral parts well. Day was…so lively. It was always bright and everyone had a never ending energy until the sun set. It was exhausting, but the libraries were always magical and incredible. We could get lost for years inside them and we’d be content with it. The Night Court was dreadful, misery everywhere and no light underground. Velaris was nicer, but I always felt a little cooped up there, I couldn’t explore a lot. At home Gyn would take me on walks, we’d explore for hours, she’d tell tales of things, I’d listen. We’d be home well past sundown. Despite how much older my brother and sister are, there were still some spots they’d never found before. Creatures they’d never met. Our home can be a living hell, but it never fails to offer endless adventure outside, endless fantastical elements with calm danger.

There were some nights where I was upset, and I’d thought I was quiet and sneaky, that I could get away with crying myself to sleep. Whether it was from stress or genuine hurt, it never mattered. Achlys and Gyn would scoop me up in my blankets and we’d leave with the moon being the only thing illuminating our path. To calm me down they would hum or sing lullabies, show me beautiful, gentle animals and flowers, and tell me stories of a brave Prince who greatest battle was against his heartless Father, the King. It worked everytime. I would fall asleep, comforted and happy. I always woke up in my bed, smelling flowers, a vase of them beside my bed, freshly cut and from one of their personal gardens. Gardens Theron helped plant, gardens that could rival those of the Spring Court’s. Which makes sense, Theron was a male my age who became the High Lord of Spring. He was smart like Boreas and Cosmas, befriending my siblings so he’d have their protection and support. Though their original intentions faded after time, we all did become and stay genuine friends. Long gone are those days though.

Sighing I take another bite of my sandwich. It’s funny, thinking of such old memories. And now that I think of it..this is where I met Reqius. He was a servant, one of the gardeners, he attended to several sections of roses, all of which he expertly kept alive and gleaming..yes I met Reqius in the Spring Court. And now all I have left of him is Ellian. That poor, sweet boy. By the Mother I hope he’s alright. He was always strong and brave, even after what happened to Rima and Terris. He had Reqius’s kindness and determination, so of course he was never easily shaken.

“Enjoying your sandwich, Lyphon?”

Lucien’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, returning me to the Spring Court and our lunch. I hum, nodding.

“Yes, it’s well made, thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank us for. The chefs made everything, we merely brought everything here.” Tamlin speaks up, his voice rough enough that he clears his throat afterwards.

“Yes, well, you still allowed us to eat outside, which is a nice change. So thank you for that.”

The two are silent for another few minutes, everyone enjoying the snacks or sipping drinks. Tamlin speaks again though, that serious High Lord attitude appearing again.

“I have news.”

I imagine Lucien perking up at this, interested by the announcement and excited on my behalf.

“Did Lyphon’s family contact you?”

I chuckle a little before Tamlin can answer. While the notion is nice, the reality isn’t quite the same.

“I doubt they would. They know that we know better and that we’ll return on our own time, I doubt they’re worried about me or my siblings. I would be more surprised if they did.”

“His family did not contact us, no. I had asked Helion about any records regarding his family, and recently he has invited us to stay a week in the Day Court. Because of this invitation I believe he has found something. He never disclosed that however. So the beginning of next week is when we will visit.”

I hum quietly. Helion…High Lord of the Day Court. I’ve not even the slightest idea about who he is or what he’s like. I can remember one of his ancestors though, or who could be his ancestor. His name was Atalo. He was clever with a quick tongue and charming personality. I suspected that it was all a charade, a carefully made mask, but no one ever batted an eye at him because of it. He was also quite intelligent, and generous enough to allow some to visit the libraries. I wonder how alike the two are. Somehow I doubt Helion will be too serious, like Atalo.

Visiting for a whole week…that should be interesting. It would be nice to visit the libraries again, see any new editions to them. Plus, it would be interesting to see what records Prythian has on us. I’m sure there’s a few ugly patches, but as far as I’ve been aware we were never all that bad, we helped more than we challenged or caused trouble since we had several of our own issues to deal with.

Humming I switch trains of thought.

“Lucien, you previously mentioned you aren’t from Spring. Are you from Autumn?”

Lucien is quiet for a moment, softly humming as he thinks, likely deciding whether to answer me or change the subject. He sighs a little, taking a sip of whatever drink he chose before settling on his answer.

“I was..but I left and came here instead since Tamlin and I were old friends. He let me stay and made me his emissary.”

I hum a little, carefully searching for my glass and taking a sip of my juice. There’s clearly more to the story, but I won’t push, it’s likely a touchy subject anyways.

“I see..tell me. Are the others High Lords cruel?”

Tamlin grunts, almost scoffing.

“It’s a mix. Beron is notoriously cruel, along with Rhysand. Tarquin is more on the kind side. Kallias and Thesan tend to be more neutral. They’re not cruel, but they don’t jump to be kind either. Helion seems to be between neutral and kind, but I’m sure he has the capability to be cruel.”

I chuckle quietly.

“Anyone has the capability to be cruel, should they be pushed far enough. Even the kindest of people can crack and eventually shatter, usually leading to a terrible consequences for everyone surrounding them. Though some are just naturally cruel, whether they intend to be or not.” I say, my head falling back a little. If my eyes weren’t so bad I’d be staring at the sky, maybe watching clouds float by, observe their odd shapes.

That being said though, I’m hoping Gyn and Achlys aren’t stuck in Autumn or Night. Sure we had friends in both in the past, but that was a very long time ago and those ties have been cut. Briefly I wonder what it would take to rebuild those alliances. Probably a lot of bargaining, honestly.

“You sound like you speak from experience.” Tamlin says, sounding almost thoughtful.

“Yes, well, I’ve seen it many times before. The kindest souls being pushed to their very limits and yet still, being expected to act as sweet and unbothered. The cruel ones see them as nothing but stupid pawns to walk all over, and when the time comes when they snap..somehow everyone is surprised.” I hum, “there was one such case many years ago with a family, who had been causing us a lot of trouble, and we suspected it was entirely on purpose. We learned quickly they were abusive to their servants, one in particular.”

“I can still recall the marks on their body that couldn’t be as well hidden as the others. It was disgusting. And he was a sweetheart too. Achlys was concerned and warned the family that they’ll end up biting themselves in the ass. But Gyn and I saw it coming miles away. Gyn had a dagger made for them and offered them a job in our main palace. They said no, at first, deciding to stay loyal, hopeful…”

A silence follows, it feels somber and still. Even the breeze feels a little stiff and tense. We all know the ending.

“They endured half a year more..and then they snapped. It was at a banquet they were hosting. We were in attendance. Their eldest son threw a fit, the perfect image of a spoiled, narcissistic brat that thought he ruled the world. He took the brunt of it, and then…chaos erupted. He apparently carried the dagger with him everywhere, and he’d used it to slit the son’s throat.” I sigh, what a night that was. “In a matter of minutes he’d pulled us outside, given us a load of evidence proving their involvement with underground dealings that spelled out their plans of eliminating us and taking the title of ‘Ruling Family’. He’d also set fire to the manor. The family ended up demanding us for compensation, and we refused. Revealing the collected evidence and arresting them. Thankfully, he’s doing much better now.”

I smile a bit at the memory. Had it not been for that devilish family, he probably would’ve been much happier for longer. Not stuck in some hell with a loyalty for the demons surrounding them, hoping them to truly be secretly angels. The poor soul.

Tamlin hums at the story, Lucien stays quiet, mostly. I can hear his eye moving a bit from time to time. I wonder if his eye ever gets dry, probably not as it’s enchanted for one, and likely not made of flesh. I’m sure both my siblings would be fascinated.

“Where is he now?” Lucien asks after a moment, I’m guessing he’s checking that he’s not poor or homeless, something we’d never allow to happen. Homelessness is a death sentence in our Court, it’s basically a crime to allow anyone to sleep anywhere outside, not unless they were given strict permissions from us.

“He took up Gyn’s offer. Though he requested to work in her palace instead. She complied, so now he works and lives there. It’s a good ending to that story. I can’t imagine why anyone would abuse those who serve them, especially if you rely on them. They say there is strength in numbers and well…who will help you when they turn on you? Or when you fall? You’ve essentially made sure there’s no chance of anyone catching you. So what will you do when you need help?”

I hear nothing, so I imagine Lucien nodding at the information, satisfied with the outcome perhaps.

We return to the silence of before, continuing to snack on our food, drink our drinks. I listen for anything nearby. The wind stays gentle, there’s the odd bird singing a few notes, and sometimes a small critter running somewhere. If I’m not careful there is a good chance I’’ll relax too much and fall asleep.

“Well, it’s time I go back inside. I have a meeting in a half hour and plenty of paperwork to sort through.” Tamlin speaks up, standing up afterwards. He leaves, walking back towards the manor, Lucien sighing a little.

“I suppose lunch is over then..ugh back to dreadful work then. Do you want to come inside with me, Lyphon? I’ll have the servants gather everything.”

I shake my head.

“No, I’ll stay here a while longer. Thank you though.”

Lucien stays quiet for a moment before turning and heading back to the manor, leaving me to my lonesome.

Gyn

I’m relying heavily on muscle memory to get me through this. I haven’t had to fight or use a weapon against someone in a very long time, so actually training again is…interesting. At some points I briefly get excited when I recognize the preparation of a move from my opponent or when I guess their next move correctly. But those moments aren’t very common and honestly they feel more like deja vu than getting a question right on a quiz.

Across from me Tarquin is braced and ready for any possible oncoming attacks on my end, not that any are coming, I’ve sort of forced myself into defensive to the point I’m not sure I’d ever let myself try anything offensive for fear of making a fool of myself. Thank the cauldron Tarquin doesn’t seem to mind though.

We circle each other. While I eye him warily he simply looks at me with amusement. I suspect we both think a child could fight better than I am. Sighing I go back into a defensive stance, this is starting to tire me out more than yesterday.

“You’re not even going to try to attack me once?” Tarquin teases, making me scowl. By the gods this makes me think of Achlys again. We’d both mock and tease each other when training together, pissing each other off endlessly.

“Maybe some other time Tarquin, besides, didn’t you say you wanted to practice some offensive moves?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yes, well, that was with the hope and assumption that you wouldn’t make me overuse every move I’ve learned. Not once have you attacked me. Since when have you ever been strictly on the defensive?”

“Today. I haven’t had a reason to fight recently, so this feels abnormal to me right now.”

He raises a brow, looking rather amused by something.

“And you think I’ll go easily on you because of that?”

I scowl, an expression that’s probably quite common for me.

“Not at all.”

Tarquin smirks, going in for another jump attack. One arm keeps his midsection protected, the other raised with a sword in hand. I’m already on the edge of the rink, so I angle my body more leftwards and back up, moving along the edge. If he jumps me or hits me hard enough I’ll definitely loose..though right now that isn’t sounding too bad. I’m getting pretty worn out, my breathing is already a little strained and my movements are slowing down, even if by a little, my reaction time is slower too, and I’m sure by now he’s picked up on that. Though he hasn’t bothered to capitalize on it..for some reason.

The attack is followed by a few more, smaller and more controlled ones, ones that require less energy but are still effective, especially when used correctly. His movements are swift, and I actively have to put more effort and energy into dodging than before, a few strikes nearly hit.

Tarquin makes one last move, light glinting off the steel as it narrowly misses the bridge of my nose, instead severing a stray hair halfway. The thin strand falls, but rather than landing on the sandy floor of our little sparring arena, Tarquin catches it, pinching it between two fingers. His smirk grows as he holds it up for us both to see.

“You’re getting slow.”

Sighing, I can only nod. The arm carrying my own sparring sword drops, the blade feels heavy in my hands and I’m all to aware of the sweat dripping down my neck, back, and sides.

“Yes, well, I’m getting tired.” Breathing and speaking are two things I cannot do simultaneously, right now at least. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can even continue after this..goodness, I yield. If you need me-”

“You do not yield.”

“Excuse you?”

He chuckles seeing my expression. But repeats what he said nonetheless.

“You. Do not. Yield.”

I raise a brow, though my annoyance still clear. Huffing I take a step back, or try to. It would be enough for me to technically lose. But Tarquin isn’t having any of it. He grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him and backing up into we’re both in the center of the ring, inches apart. I’m not enjoying the victorious look on his face.

“You are not allowed to yield or leave this ring until you’ve attacked me. And no ‘low effort’ attacks either, I want you to treat me like an actual opponent. Fight me like you would on the battlefield.”

Only then does he back up, going into a defensive stance. I narrow my eyes this time, more from concern and warning.

“I’d really rather not, Tarquin.’

“Just try.”

Exasperated and getting pretty foul mooded, I back up. He looks confused for a moment before I charge, running at full speed with my sword pointed right at his chest. He raises his arms higher, twisting his sword to use it as a sort of shield. He moves forward too, planning to take the sword head on, but I move left at the last second, raising the sword to strike him in the head, and then kick him in the knee instead.

He grunts as he almost kneels. Swiftly I kick at his nose, then at his chest, both attempted strikes are blocked by one arm, the other being used to raise his sword and aim a strike. He stabs at my chest, I barely raise my own sword fast enough to block that. I jump back, giving us both space as he stands to his full height and starts to approach, smiling.

It’s his usual smile, the one that’s soft and in any other context would make me think of calming waves and shining pearls. But right now it just puts me more on edge. I wonder if he smiles at his enemies like this before killing them.

Huffing slightly I run at him full speed, keeping my sword and body lowered. At the last second I dodge to the side, spinning just enough to get behind him and kick the back of one of his knees before pressing the sword against his throat, not enough to do any real damage, of course.

He grunts as he lands, using a hand to keep the sword’s edge away from his throat. He must not have been very affected by the attack however, since he’s quick to roll forward, taking me with him. I think I feel my spine crack a few times. I groan as we stop with him and planting of his body weight laying atop of me, specifically my chest. Now I’m taking in even less air. I’ll probably pass out in a minute.

Hissing I put more effort into moving the sword back towards his neck. My arm shakes as he pushes back. While he’s a bit more distracted I raise my legs, high enough to wrap them firmly around his diaphragm, before squeezing like a boa constrictor. This might not work out well for me though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hold his breath longer or be able to last longer without oxygen than the average fae.

He almost tenses up immediately. One hand works on keeping the sword away from his throat, the other works at untangling my legs or at least loosening them enough that he won’t have to fight for air every breath. He’s not giving up fast enough though, so I reach out with my free hand and place opposite his hand on the sword. Twisting the sword in my other hand, I make sure it’s flat against both our palms. Despite wheezing a little, Tarquin manages to chuckle slightly.

“How are you supposed to slit my throat with the sharp edge facing away from me?”

A strangled laugh escapes me, I sound a bit exasperated, desperate too.

“If I get it close enough, strangling you will all be too easy. All I need to do is angle it properly between your neck and jaw.”

He barks a laugh, the sound startling me and I’m temporarily unsure of how to react. Is he ok? Is he pushing himself too far? Do I need to do something? He stops before I can check for any health problems though.

“You nasty, nasty girl.”

“You’re the one who told me to fight like you were my enemy. I don’t necessarily need a quick victory, I just need to win..or lose. Whichever will make you let me leave faster.”

He grunts as I pull the sword closer to his throat, cursing the hand trying to remove my legs switches between hitting my side with the hilt of his sword and with as much force as he can use at the moment, and trying to push the sword away. Each strike to my side feels like fireworks of pain exploding and worsening with each strike. He doesn’t even need to hit me anymore for my whole side to ache and throb, but it’s worse at the main strike point, which would be my bottom rib.

With a rough gasp I tightening my legs around him as much as I can, both legs shaking as I struggle to keep squeezing his diaphragm. It’s paying off though. His breathing has become short, quick gasps that I know aren’t getting him much air. Close, so close to victory. Until I’m not.

His one arm raises again, poised and ready to strike.

“No-”

Pain explodes in my entire side as the hilt of his sword strikes the bottom bone again. I feel a crack, probably the rib fracturing. Lovely. Unfortunately I falter, one hand slipping briefly from the sword, giving him enough time and strength to rip the sword from my hands and toss to the other side of the arena. He hits my fracturing rib again, I hiss, agony and lack of energy causing my legs to loosen, practically flopping to the side as Tarquin quickly unwraps my legs.

I barely notice him turning until it’s too late. Instantly air is whisked from my lungs and I try to inhale, only to meet the resistance that is his weight pressed onto my diaphragm through his knee. The point of his sword presses against the middle of my throat.

Oh if Great Great Grandfather could see me now..I would surely never be able to return home until I floored him in the first 10 seconds. I would be quite the disappointment. I might’ve had an excuse as a child. But not now. I’m fully grown and I’ve already been trained. To think Ulysse was so successful I can barely fight now. Cauldron I might just cry myself to sleep tonight. Coming from a family who takes pride in their strength and ability to defeat others…of course I feel like a weakling now. A failure almost.

Anger boils up inside at the thought. After everything I’ve had to go through to prove myself, to get a peaceful, quiet living, this is what I’ve become? It was really this easy? To defeat me, weaken me, make me give up?

I basically snarl like an animal as a grab a fistful of sand and throw right as his eyes. I don’t give him time to process as he raises a hand to block the sand, possibly get some out of his eyes. I punch him in the throat, then raise a leg to kick him in the crotch before using that leg to shove him away. As he lands, wiping the sand from his eyes, I stand up, marching over to my sword and picking it up. When I turn he’s still keeled over, coughing though. I have to make this quick. It seems we both are going till the other taps out, so I’ll have to force him to. Pressing a blade to his head won’t do that, but almost slitting his throat probably will.

Before he can get up, I stand over him and put the blade in the curve between his jaw and his neck, before carefully pulling up. I don’t actually want to hurt him, but I need him to give up. He almost curses, scrambling to push the blade away, but I don’t let him move it. He’s trying hard not to cough, but it’s clear he’s about to and if he does blood will likely spill..well maybe, I’m not entirely sure how sharp these swords are. Huffing he hits my leg three times.

Sighing with a bit of relief I move the sword away, tossing it to the other side near the stands that hold other practice blades. Moving a few feet away I sit down on some of the steps, wincing as my side throbs again and the pain spasms when I cough a little. Tarquin practically has a coughing fit for a minute, but he’s okay otherwise, thankfully. When that’s done he stands up, takes a few deep breaths, and turns to me.

“Congrats.”

Quietly he walks over, offering a hand. I take it, almost distracted by the contrasting feel of soft yet calloused. He pulls me up into a standing position.

“Ah well, thank you. Though I’m certain you did more damage than me. Much more. So good job for that.”

He frowns at that, eyes instantly going to my side. One hand reaches, about to touch the growing red patch, but I grab his wrist before it can.

“Please don’t. My rib was fractured. I know you’re gentle, but that will still hurt.”

Concern colours his eyes as they flick back up to meet mine.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize- let me take you to the healers.”

He’s quick, I’ll give him that. I can’t form a response fast enough before he’s slipping the hand hovering above my side into my own hand, tugging me towards the exit.

“No- it’s fine, Tarquin. I’ll be fine. Just let me rest and I’ll look after it once I’m more energized.”

Stubbornly though, he shakes his head, pulling me along.

“No. We’re going to the healers. I won’t risk you accidentally harming yourself further by using this chance to practice your abilities more. I trust you know what you’re doing, but I’d rather have you healed immediately than wait for you to do it yourself.”

Sighing I increase my pace to match his, following him as he expertly moves from hallway to hallway in search of the healers wing. Or just healers. I’m assuming there’s a mini-hospital in the castle, but I could be mistaken.

We both fall into a comfortable silence. Him, determined to find a healer and searching. Me, lost in thought as I stare out any windows at the vast sea. The silence is softly broken though when Tarquin asks a question.

“What was that, back there? Do you hate losing?”

I’m quiet for a moment, thinking.

“No..not quite, at least. I- I think it was more just, in my family, strength is something that we were raised to put a lot of pride in. Me and my siblings, we were all raised with the ideal that we couldn’t afford to lose, not even once.”

“Couldn’t afford to lose..what do you mean by that?”

“I suppose a simple way of saying it is that by my family’s standards, loosing means you’re weak. And in a family that values strength highly..well my Great Great Grandfather has a set of standards that, if not met, mean he’ll make you an outcast or just straight up disown you.” I wince at a few memories that pop up. “The Mortis name carries a lot of protection at home..if you’re apart of the family or at least respected, you’re well protected and regular or weaker creatures won’t attack you, you won’t really be challenged. But otherwise..you’re open game.”

Tarquin hums, nodding slightly.

“I see, well. I think it’s a bit foolish to place all your seashells in one basket, if strength is the only thing your family values..then they’re blinding themselves to many other wonderful things, and building up themselves for failure. Or at the very least, a very miserable family. You didn’t need to beat me for me to know that you’re strong, Gyn.”

His words make me smile, the smile growing into a giggle as I grin at him.

“Thank you, for that. I’m sure it could take me a while to fully agree, but I’m at least aware that my Great Great Grandfather should try using more baskets.”

He chuckles, smiling back. We walk for a few more minutes before we arrive at a door labeled ‘Medical’. He knocks, the door swinging open immediately. A fae woman looks between the two of us, then at my side and motions for us to come inside.

Tarquin leads the way until the woman motions for me to sit on a bed. I seat myself on the edge, and she begins her examination.

“Is your side the only place of concern or are there any other injuries I should be made aware of?”

“Only my side, I’m fine otherwise. My rib is fractured, I don’t know how severely though.”

“I see, very well.”

The woman grabs a clipboard, scribbles a few things down before reaching and, quite gently, brushing her fingers across my side. I grit my teeth as fire follows the light touch, exhaling slowly to stop myself from screaming or cursing too much. Both Tarquin and the healer notice the reaction, of course. And the few tears that threaten to spill. Tarquin gives my hand a squeeze, muttering an apology. I just give him a light squeeze back.

“Well, I’m not sure what the cause of this injury was, but your rib is a hair away from being broken. It’s an easy fix, thankfully. Though I will need to touch you to heal you..”

Tarquin’s eyes widen at her statement. I almost chuckle, but instead respond before he can.

“That’s fine, just get it done with, please.”

The healer nods, nimbly she works at healing me. I hiss at the pain, but it lightens up fairly quickly. It only takes her a few moments to heal my side completely.

“There we are. Everything is fine now, you’re good to go.”

I nod, hopping off the bed.

“Thank you, do I need to pay you?-”

“No, I’m a healer that works under the palace, so I have no fees for anyone I heal. I simply heal anyone brought here and get paid at the end of the week.”

“I see. Well thank you.”

She nods, turning and taking her clipboard with her, heading into an office area. I’m about to say goodbye and head to my room, but the guilt ridden expression on Tarquin’s face stops me.

“Are you alright-”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I had nearly broken your rib. Had I known that would happen I probably would’ve just let you go and rest. I probably should have in the first place. I’m-”

“It’s fine Tarquin. You did nothing wrong. You fought me fairly and I just happened to be injured. This isn’t the worst I’ve ever experienced either, so please don’t let this weigh heavily on you. I appreciate that you didn’t bother going easy on me..at least I don’t think you did. I would find it quite insulting if you decided to baby me after insisting I stay to fight.”

He seems slightly less upset, but still feeling guilty. He nods, acting a bit like that was all I needed to say to convince him. Sighing I shake my head. He almost turns to leave, but this time I stop him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.

He tenses for a moment, but he returns the hug.

“I’m okay, Tarquin. It’s okay. I strangled you for cauldron’s sake. I should be apologizing to you instead. So please don’t be upset because I got hurt. So did you.”

He sighs, conceding.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll try to…forgive myself I suppose.”

“Thank you, are you busy today?”

“No..I only have one meeting today, thankfully. And that’s just before dinner.”

“Good. Let’s go on a walk. I know you’ll still feel bad or down for a little while, so let’s go on a walk. Clear some of the air. You usually feel better after walks or visits to the beach, right?”

He smiles a little, nodding, letting me push him out of the healers room.

Achlys

The High Lord’s office reminds me of what was my Father’s. A simple yet intricately carved door opening to a spacious area meant for greeting or waiting with two couches facing each other with comfortable and soft pillows placed in the corner between cushion and arm. Then a few small steps that lead into a sort of study area. Both walls lined with bookshelves, two long tables placed two feet away with several cushioned chairs placed around them. Papers, books, quills, and ink pots line the tables too. And then there a few more small steps, leading up to where the High Lord sits, waiting or writing and signing away behind a fancy or elaborate desk that likely has a few hidden compartments for secret or important documents.

I suspect that an important part of the design is intimidation and condescension. I can remember a few times where the long walk from the door to the desk was nerve wracking, all the while my Father wouldn’t even spare me a glance, and I hated how it felt like he was superior and above me, that I wasn’t worth his time, but those rotten documents always were. Just like how he tried to make my baby sister the same, making her sign dozens of practice sheets everyday since she turned 12, and scolding her when she tried to get her work done faster, claiming she wasn’t even reading the pages, that she was making herself to become a poor High Lady.

I work to quiet down the building anger. Snapping at a High Lord has never really done me any favours. And it’s not even like Eris is the one who’s made my sister slave away at a desk for hours on end.

Sighing, I step into the High Lord’s office. It’s warm, probably from the fireplace near his desk that burns away.

Eris looks up from the pages in front of him, placing his quill down. He beckons me forward, waiting patiently while I walk forward. It takes a moment for me to finally reach the desk and sit down in one of the seats placed in front of the desk.

His amber eyes track me the whole way, following me like a predator would when they’re not sure whether they’re stalking prey or another predator. He doesn’t appear tense, but he’s also not relaxed in any sort of way. I’m sure I am only another dangerous problem that has made itself known.

We both stay quiet for a moment, waiting to see if the other will speak first all while staring each other down in silent scrutiny. I decide I’ll be the first to speak.

“You called, High Lord?”

The barest hint of frown. The barest hint of amusement.

“You’ve made me curious. Your family has always brought me fascination, and it is easy to recognize that your siblings would be incredibly helpful to me, and you would be more comfortable if you were all here.”

I don’t bother hiding the disgusted frown that grows on my face. Sure, it would be nicer if we were all together again, but it would be even better if we were together away from this place, outside of the hellish Autumn Court.

“We won’t be your slaves, High Lord. Nor will we ever be. No Mortis ever bows before anyone else. While a reunion would be nice, don’t expect my siblings servitude as a returning favour.”

He chuckles quietly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you’re smart, and something tells me that you already have a few guesses as to where your siblings have been placed.” He hums, “I’m going to assume you know you have nothing in Prythian. You can threaten me all you like, but we both know for the time being they are nothing but empty, dangerous words. So let me extend a hand. You tell me about your sister and brother, and in return I will send letters to the High Lords on your behalf. Does that seem fair.”

The disgust melts into a suspicion that does well to disguise itself. I can feel the muscles in my face relax away back into the neutral mask every High Sovereign’s child has become intimately familiar with. My gut tightens though, a sense of unease washing over me like a filthy water that makes you itch to bathe.

“That’s..quite generous of you. Why make such an offer? It seems like you have quite the disadvantage in this deal. Only receiving information and finding my siblings for me in return? I have no doubts you have something else planned. Something that requires that information.”

“Not at all.” He shrugs, “I’m merely curious about your family.”

He smirks, glad I haven’t seen the full picture yet.

“But I’m also playing the long game here. In the end that information can play key roles for me in getting what I want, and I’ll have the satisfaction of having more information as the middle man or messenger. You will never know if I have more information on your siblings, their conditions, and their whereabouts and you’ll have to trust that I’ll share that info with you when I receive it. But, if you decide that you won’t take the deal, you’ll need to collect the information yourself and I’ll willing to bet that you’d rather take the quicker route and find them faster.”

This is a familiar feeling to that of being locked in a chess match against my cousin, Melchor. He’s intelligent in a way that he can trick you into making moves that only benefit him all while making you think it was the better move. Subconscious trickery. But Eris has revealed some of his hand. Nothing too important of course, he’s only given me a slight hint at his intentions and personality in the wad of information I could’ve guessed on my own. It almost feels like a battle of wits.

“Let’s say I do take the deal. Realistically, there isn’t any guarantee that the High Lords will respond in the first place, nor is there any real guarantee that they will respond truthfully. If they’re smart, they, like you, will know or realize how much of an asset my siblings are. And if they’re as scheming and cunning as when we were younger, we’ll be nothing but bargaining pieces for them.”

“That is, assuming, that all our High Lords are in fact the cunning, cruel creatures that made the High Lords when you were younger. Like my Great Great Great Grandfather, Eldmar.”

I almost shudder at the name. I remember Eldmar, quite well actually. He left quite the impression. He had a regal and authoritative presence and he was quite a clever man. You never knew what he was thinking, and he was always able to control any conversation or negotiation he was a part of, always in his favour of course. He was scary in how strategic he was. It was always odd, being around him. I recognized that I was the more powerful one, and yet I genuinely felt like I was outclassed when I was near him, that I was the weaker one.

“And are they? Like their ancestors? Or are have things changed that much already?”

His eyes narrow slightly, an amused twinkle in his eyes. They haven’t changed that much at all then.

“Some..are different than what you might expect. But I suspect that is because of different circumstances. Most aren’t that much different though, so I can’t say your suspicion is miss placed. How about you just tell me where you suspect they are, and I’ll tell you what their chances are with that Court’s particular High Lord. And I’ll still send letters.”

“Or you could just tell me about the different High Lords that rule today.”

“No. Either you tell me your suspicions and about your siblings, or I let you go about your own research. And I won’t provide you any aid in that case.”

I roll my eyes, but consider the different pros and cons. He’s only asking for information, information he plans to use later on for his own goals. Though his terminology was vague enough where if I agree, I’ll be saying I’ll give any information on my siblings that he requests. But..he’ll also contact other Courts and try to find my siblings. If I went out on my own and went searching for my own answers, I would have a much harder time. I have nothing tying my to Prythian, so getting a job would be difficult or earning any money. I could be perceived as a threat and treated as such if I ever approached any High Lord. I have nothing. But he has something and is offering some of his resources. Groaning I make my choice.

“Fine. Our cousin hated us dearly and I’m going assume placed in locations that played on some of our biggest fears. I hate caves and my prison was placed inside one. My sister is terrified of deep waters, so he’s likely placed her prison somewhere with lots of deep water. Likely the Summer Court. Lyphon hates being buried alive, so somewhere where it wouldn’t be difficult to move a lot of dirt. My best guesses are Spring, Day, and Dawn.”

Eris considers the information, nodding slowly before moving his papers aside and grabbing blank pages and placing them in front of himself.

“I’ll send a letter to Summer. And one to Spring as a starter. We’ll wait for the replies and proceed from there.”

The sound of a quill writing away fills in the silence. I read each word and line as they’re written, following without problem. Reading upside down is something I learned when I was still young. It’s quite handy.

---

High Lord Tarquin,

There isn’t a chance that you have a female by the name of Gyn Mortis under your care at the moment, is there? Or a large, strange prison somewhere deep in the waters that surround your Court? Recently I’ve found one such prison in my Court, it’s prisoner making me quite curious. I wish to find his two other siblings that have also been imprisoned. He has informed me that he suspects his sister resides in your Court at the moment. Should she ask which brother is in my Court, simply answer her elder brother. Do lend a helping hand and bring this family back together?

—High Lord Eris

---

High Lord Tamlin,

How does Spring fare? Recently a strange prison was found in Autumn and the prison had made me quite curious. It is in my interests to help in finding his two other siblings. He has informed me that he suspects his younger brother, Lyphon, could be potentially be found in your Court. Should you find or have found him, please contact me.

—High Lord Eris

---

Once the letters are written and sealed, ready to be sent, he places aside for later, returning his attention to me.

“So then, tell me about your family. Your sister and brother, preferably.”

“What exactly do you want to know? Anything?”

He smiles softly, the smile disappearing quickly.

“Anything. Indulge my curiosity.”

“If you’re really so desperate. Tell me what you already know so I don’t waste either of our time.”

He rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair while he toys with a quill, spinning it between his fingers as a drop of ink threatens to spill.

“My my, so spoiled and demanding. I don’t know intimate details, only history and impressions about someone based on the writings of the author. I’ve studied the various wars your family was apart of. I’ve gone through all the records my family has about anything that involved your family or Court.”

“And what have you learned about us? You’re smart, I’m sure you’ve already read between the lines.”

A small, prideful smirk grows on his face. He’s glad someone’s finally noticed, I’m sure. Eager to brag or maybe he’s just glad someone finally hasn’t underestimated him. If there is one thing I’ve learned about Autumn, never underestimate a Vanserra, especially ones that parade themselves as weaker or uninterested. Not that Eris checks those boxes, but still. New High Lords are always underestimated and yet to earn the respect of their fathers or forefathers. An unfortunate thing, but it comes with the presumed lack of experience. Observation and experience can be two very different things at times.

“Your family seems oddly peaceful for one that presents itself as violent and threatening. I’ll guess your patriarch is quite selective in what your family gets themselves involved in. All things considered he might even have some morals.”

I snort at the comment. Oh if only he knew or met our oh so wonderful Great Great Grandfather.

“He’s never had morals. He does things when he gets bored or because he gets irritated. He doesn’t do things for ‘good’. Gyn and Lyphon have morals, maybe not as many as some, but more than most in my family.” I don’t stop my snicker, “take a war over freeing slaves. The Knight would fight to stop the annoyance of begging for help and freedom. It could go either way, he would slaughter for either side. Gyn would fight for their freedom. I would simply offer to kill them all, free them that way. And well..Lyphon would probably use everyone’s bodies to help him fight.”

I laugh, quite loudly actually, but it’s true. Lyphon never spared a corpse, if it was available and not too badly damaged it could help him.

“Though, he would likely follow Gyn, he’s like a sheep or a puppy in that case. He looks to her for help and guidance at times. They always connected well, and Gyn was determined to be a good older sister, make life less miserable.”

Eris quirks a brow but hums, spinning the quill the opposite direction now.

“Interesting. I was under the impression that your family had a strict hierarchy, that you all looked to and obeyed your Great Great Grandfather.”

There’s a dark chuckle from me.

“Not necessarily. Pops rarely appears and even more rarely reclaims the control he’s generously given to some of his descendants. There is, I suppose, an hierarchy of sorts. It’s mostly based on power and the relations we have to The Knight. For a while now Gyn and I were considered 2nd in commands, we didn’t rule the Court, naturally. But we were given respect and power for being successful results of selective breeding and proving to be quite useful.

“I’m liked for my obedience because I’ve never had a problem with the orders given. Gyn, on the other hand, can be too timid to speak up against our Great Great Grandfather. So she’s subtle in the ways she defies him. Fighting in wars, but sparing those who wish for peace, and offering them a home, though in a different form. But Pops loves Gyn, so he never punished her. In fact he took interest and praised her for her knowledge in biology and her strength. That being said, we are family you know, not sheep. We only obey as often as we do because we trust Pops’ judgement. He’s never been wrong.”

Eris narrows his eyes slightly, a look of consideration and realization on his face.

“You sound like you trust each other a lot…not quite something I’ve heard of from a High Lord’s family. Usually, from my experience, most High Lord’s and their families aren’t usually on good terms with each other. But it sounds like you might just have..a decent family.”

I frown slightly at that. It’s true, most High Lord’s families I’ve met could be compared more to a den of wolves that have been starved a few days. Or snakes. Something nasty that’s thirsty for blood, rich with envy, and hungry for power that they may or may not use correctly. That being said, my family isn’t all that much better.

“I’m not sure I can agree with you, on that point. We may trust each other for certain things, but we’re as ugly as the rest. Look at me and my siblings. Ripped from our beds by a traitorous cousin and shoved into metal boxes that leeches power from you until you’ve been freed before being tossed into places where he hopes we won’t be found. There is no shortage of hatred, fear, and blood in our family.”

The confession shouldn’t give away too much information, and I don’t believe it can really be used against us. It might sound like it could be easy to sway someone in our family into betraying and killing off family members or imprisoning them. But Pops is quite..meticulous in his control of the family and its members.

An entire tradition has been made out of him rooting out anyone he finds don’t meet his standards. His word is law in the family and if he judges you to be worthless in the family, then you’ll be removed. Countless cousins, aunts, uncles all killed or banished because they’re too weak or useless. Our family is more comparable to a unit in the army than a proper family, I think. Some of us are close, but usually it’s a relationship and bond built up over the years, not something you feel or recognize naturally. Sometimes it just feels like we’re dolls in a doll house, and Pops is the master that controls us.

The door of the office opens and we both turn to see who’s entered. It’s a servant, carrying a silver tray with a tea pot, two tea cups, and some small dishes and utensils for anything we might want to add.

Eris gestures for the servant to approach. They’re quick and quiet as they approach and place the tray on the desk between us where no papers are. They’re just as quick to leave. Reaching forwards Eris takes one of the cups, pouring himself a drink.

“Feel free to refresh yourself with a drink. I don’t imagine this conversation will be over for a little while..”

I hum, reaching forwards to pour myself a drink.

“Maybe not.”

~~~

Thank you for reading and for your patience. Writer's block sucks. Enjoy your day/night.

~~~

Btw, this fanfic is available on Quotev and AO3.

[dollycas]

#FlashbackFriday featuring A Twisted Skein (Seaside Knitters Society) by Sally Goldenbaum #Review / #Giveaway @KensingtonBooks @sallygoldenbaum

On Flashback Fridays I will share with you the books I was not able to review when they were first released that have been screaming at me from my To-Be-Read bookshelf.   A Twisted Skein (Seaside Knitters Society) Cozy Mystery 6th in Series (with this publisher) Setting - Massachusetts Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington Cozies (November 28, 2023) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 320 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496729439 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496729439 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0BZB79B8B Like every coastal town, Sea Harbor needs tourists and their dollars. But there’s something special about that time of year when summer people return to their normal lives, and the wide sandy beaches welcome back locals with their dogs and strollers. And this year, even as the season cools down, Izzy Perry’s Sea Harbor Yarn Studio is heating up, thanks to an upcoming fashion benefit . . . The show will feature hand-knit garments, and enthusiastic knitters flock to the shop for supplies to create runway-worthy pieces. Yet Seaside Knitter Birdie is enjoying flocks of a different kind, thanks to a rekindled interest in birdwatching, a hobby she enjoyed with her late husband. Along with a small group of passionate birders, she often spends weekend mornings looking for warblers or keeping watch for gannets and grebes. The group members themselves are almost as fascinating as the birds. It’s a lovely, special time—until Birdie makes her way through a tangle of vines and stumbles upon a fellow birder’s body. At first, it appears to be an accidental fall, but an autopsy soon reveals that the victim died before hitting a granite boulder. When police discover a clue linking the victim to one of the Seaside Knitters, the web of suspicion grows. Before the woods are ablaze in autumn glory and the knitters have cast off the final rows on their runway projects, they’ll have to unravel secrets and ties strong enough to bind friends and neighbors together—and some that may press a killer to take another life. Dollycas's Thoughts We return to Sea Harbor when things should be calming down but Izzy has agreed to host a fashion benefit featuring hand-knit items made with yarn from her Sea Harbor Yarn Studio and she has enlisted her friends Willow, Lucky, and Rose to construct a runway for the event. Birdie is busy too. She has joined a local birdwatching group. She had enjoyed birdwatching with her late husband and wanted to take up the hobby again. She finds the eclectic group very interesting. Birdie is very excited about a birding trip to the local granite quarry but due to an earlier storm Birdie is warned to stay away from the rocks so she detours into the woods. It is there she discovers another member of the group dead. Birdie thinks the man has a terrible accident but she soon learns the victim died before his fall. The police also believe a friend of the Seaside Knitters may have had something to do with his death. It's time for the Seaside Knitters to untwist and untangle each and every clue and knit together who was really responsible for the body in the woods. Can they pull that off before all the knitters hit the runway? or will one of them be behind bars? _____ I love this series. I open the book and immediately feel like I am in the company of good friends. Birdie, Nell, Izzy, and Cass have grown so much since the first book, Death by Cashmere was released in 2008. Birdie is a wise octogenarian, Izzy is a young mom and owns the Sea Harbor Yarn Studio, Cass is co-owner of Halloran Lobster Company with a cute little baby boy, and Nell is Izzy's aunt and is retired.  They have their Thursday night ritual of meeting at Izzy's shop for a night of "friend therapy". A time to toast, eat, knit, and share what's happening with them and around town. Then on Friday nights, they gather with their husbands, children, and any other friends who drop in for a great meal at Nell's that usually includes something grilled out on the deck no matter the time of year. They all are always there for each other no matter what. They also try to help anyone in need throughout the community. Kind, caring, and smart, these characters are very well-developed but continue to grow and remain fresh even after 17 books.  Ms. Goldenbaum has written a very emotional story. The relationships are complex and carefully constructed. The victim's death deeply affected many people including Birdie. Two sisters are dealing with other issues including the man's death. In a mystery full of twists and turns Birdie, Nell, Cass, and Izzy try to find proof that someone they care about was not involved in the murder while trying to piece together clues to find who did it and why. They collected information from several different sources and passed it all on to the police.  Soon all the clues fell into place. I did have the right person near the top of my suspect list but was surprised at the deviousness and how dreadful the person really was. I did enjoy the subplot of the fashion show. While the author's descriptions of the garments and the runway, were good, I wish the book could have contained pictures. Izzy called the runway "magnificent" and a "panoramic scene" that came to life the closer she came to it. A Twisted Skein is wonderfully written. The characters and the friendships they have built are beyond measure. The mystery is complex and skillfully plotted. Sea Harbor and its residents grab ahold of me a little more with each book in this series and each visit ends too soon. Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About Sally Goldenbaum Sally Goldenbaum is the author of over three-dozen novels, including the Queen Bees Quilt Shop Mysteries and the nationally bestselling Seaside Knitters Society Mystery Series, set in the fictional town of Sea Harbor, Massachusetts. Born in Manitowoc,  Wisconsin, Sally now lives in Gloucester, Massachusetts with her husband, Don. In addition to writing mysteries, Sally has taught philosophy, Latin, and creative writing, edited bioethics, and veterinary healthcare journals, and worked in public television at WQED Pittsburgh (then home to Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood). Follow Sally Webpage Twitter    Facebook  Find more books by Sally Golenbaum here. I am giving away an ARC review copy! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old with a US or Canadian mailing address. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Following My Facebook Fan Page. Add this book to your WANT TO READ shelf on GoodReads for 3 Bonus Entries. Follow Kensington Books on Twitter for 2 Bonus Entries! Follow Kensington Publishing on Facebook for 2 Bonus Entries!  Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. If you share the giveaway on Threads, X, or Facebook or anywhere you will receive 5 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The  Contest Will End June 10, 2024, at 11:59 PM CST The Winner Will Be Chosen By Random.org The Winner Will Be Notified By Email and Will Be Posted Here In The Sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”                                    Read the full article

[hochgouez-nerzhus]

Bundle for the Beltane Fire

Excerpt from Wheel of the Year, Llewellyn Publishing.

A bundle of wood was assembled in March for the celebration of May Day. This bundle of wood is destined to burn in the fire of Beltane. It contains three pieces of each of nine different species of wood (these are birch, oak, mountain ash, willow, hawthorn, hazel, apple, vine and fir).

It is now very dry and will give a good flare. If you wish, you can decorate it with wild white flowers or small flowering branches of fruit trees and white ribbons, in honor of the Goddess.

As you tie the bundle of wood with the ribbons and flowers, sing something like:

“Fagot of wood, ribbons and white flowers, tied

The lady is crowned.

Bundle of Wood in Beltane, in his Fire

Flambe and burn as I wish. »

These words can be repeated when you place your bundle of wood in Beltane's fire.

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

A List of Sacred Woods and Trees

A List of Sacred Woods and Trees. By Doreen Valiente & Evan John Jones . Excerpt from Witchcraft: A Tradition Renewed. About the “Nine Firewoods of Beltane”; ash, birch, yew, hazel, mountain ash, willow, pine, hawthorn and any other woods mentioned as traditionally sacred may be used, except oak, which is the king of woods. 

The woods available will of course differ from region to region. The tradition is simply that the fire consists of nine woods, with the exception of oak.

• HAWTHORN – Also known as white thorn and maypole, due to its ancestral association with May Day. Because it was a sacred tree, bringing branches or flowers inside the house was thought to bring bad luck. However, if used as an exterior decoration on May Day, it brought good fortune.

• BIRCH – This is one of the trees that is traditionally associated with May Eve celebrations, when people used to go out into the woods at night in the woods and bring home green branches to decorate their home on May Day. It is the tree of good fortune and purification, and as such it was used to make the broom. He is seen as feminine.

• ASH - This wood is used for the stang, and in this way it represents the Horned God-King. Adorned with garlands and crossed arrows, the stang is used as an altar. In old Norse mythology, the World Tree was an ash tree, Yggdrasil, the Cosmic Axis.

• ASH FAGOT – Composed of ash twigs. It should be burned at Yule to ensure good fortune. He is at the origin of "the log of Yule". A miniature of it can be kept at home for good fortune.

• IF – It is the tree of death and resurrection. Some of the oldest yews are found in cemeteries, because of this symbolism. It is a very long-lived tree, and for this reason and because its foliage is always green, it has been considered a symbol of immortality.

• HAZELNUT – A holy tree linked to fire, fertility, knowledge, divination and poetry. The favorite wood for a dowsing rod. It is one of Beltane's nine firewoods.

• APPLE – This is one of the sacred trees with magical powers. Its fruit, when cut widthwise, shows the sign of the pentagram (the five-pointed star). Avalon, the ancient name of Glastonbury, one of the sacred centres, means "the site of the apple trees". On Hallowe'en, a large apple, called the Allen or Hallowe'en apple, is eaten for good fortune.

• BLACKBLADE – BLACKTHORN – It is an evil tree. The blackthorn staff is sometimes used as an altar-stang when a curse is placed on a third party. The tree has formidable thorns and is associated with "Winter Blackthorn", the return of cold weather in spring is associated with the appearance of blackthorn blossom.

• WILLOW - This was once a tree of mourning and is often referred to as such in old songs and ballads. However, her kittens picked on May Day could bring good luck. It is a water-loving tree and in this it is associated with the influence of the moon.

• ROWAN – Also known as the American mountain ash. The twigs of this tree are believed to bring good fortune and protect against the evil eye. An old Celtic greeting comes from this, "Peace be here and on the rowan tree".

• ELDERBERRY – This tree is believed to be harmful because of its traditional association with Witchcraft. In parts of Britain it is a female tree. In ancient days judgment was sometimes given under this tree. Hence, the handle of the clan's judgment sword is sometimes made of elderwood.

[lovetorn]

Life Was A Willow [Part 1]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 2 Part 3

Summary: it's always been hunters vs. witches, right?

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings for part 1: violence, swearing

A/N: AHHHH !! It's finally here !! i'm going to be posting this in parts, originally 2, but looking at it now, it may even possibly be 3 parts. i've been working on this for months and i'm extremely happy with it !! i hope you guys love it as much as i do !!

The leaves of the willow tree rustle loudly whilst Y/n kneels in front of the raspberry bush. With each piece of the fruit, her fingertips are stained with a deep magenta as she plucks them off of the branches. Bark and twigs dig into her knees sharply when she reaches forward to grasp one last raspberry, but before she has the chance to pick it, the sound of horse hooves galloping on the dirt startle her.

“Ma’am! Are you alright?” A deep voice calls. Y/n sighs, standing from her spot on the ground before she turns around.

Five men on tan horses surround her. Her heart skips a beat when she recognises their uniforms. Witch hunters. With the nod of her head, Y/n smiles. “I’m doing just fine, gentlemen! Thank you for your concern.”

Although, she doesn’t recognise any of their faces—especially the man in a mask. The girl tilts her head at the sight of it; hardly any hunters wear a mask. But, what confuses her more is the taunting smile drawn lazily across the white ceramic. “Are you sure? There’s a whole lot of danger in these parts, sweetheart!”

Y/n almost rolls her eyes but stops before they catch onto her. “I promise, I’m completely fine.” She wishes she could see the expression of the man in the mask.

None of the hunters reply before they kick the sides of their horses and ride off in the opposite direction they came. Panic sets in as Y/n drops her basket of berries and sets off into a sprint, her skirts catching under her feet.

Being this far from home with hunters close-by is risky, Y/n knows this. But the raspberry bush had just ripened and she promised Wilbur she would bake him a raspberry cheesecake in return for repairing her wand.

Her lungs burn as she pushes open the small wooden gate that surrounds the house.

“Niki!” Y/n yells, her voice cracking slightly in fear. Her friend spins around from her spot in the garden. “Y/n! Take a look at the rose—“

Y/n only shakes her head, turning back in panic. “Hunters.”

“Quickly then, get inside, we must inform Wilbur.”

The pair rush into the cottage, Niki’s rose bush and Y/n’s basket of berries left behind.

The back door slams against the wall, only to be shut and locked as soon as it was opened. Wilbur stands from his spot at the dining table with a puzzled expression.

“How many?” Wilbur runs a hand over his face.

“A whole army. The King’s been busy; there’s a lot of new faces.”

The man sighs deeply. He turns to face Niki, who sits on the kitchen stool with a look of fear on her face. Y/n swallows and peers out of the small window. She sees a flash of white and the sound of an arrow cutting the air. “They’re here. They’ve followed me.”

—

Niki is the first to exit the house, her hands out in front of her. She clenches her jaw as she feels tingles through her muscles, her eyes shaped like crescent moons. The sound of branches cracking and leaves crunching makes her throw her hand to her right, which earns a distant cry as a hunter is thrown backwards.

Wilbur hurries around the house in search of his staff while Y/n whispers angrily at him to hurry up. The man lets out a quiet squeal when he spots it leaning against the living room wall and faces Y/n. He exhales, nodding once to tell her to go out the back door.

Y/n moves silently whilst passing windows and eventually through the door. Her eyes dart in every direction as she steps onto the dirt beneath her. The only sound is the snapping of bows and faint cries from the front of the house.

“Witch!” A voice calls. Y/n lifts her hands up, flecks of glitter-like sparkles falling from her fingertips. “We come to you on behalf of the King; he wishes to discuss potential alliances with you.”

Y/n struggles to distinguish where the voice comes from before there’s a hand on her back and she’s being pushed to the ground. She scowls and turns to face the person behind her; a man with a white bandana tied around his head.

Y/n jumps up instantly, moving her finger in a circular motion until the man’s feet begin to lift off the ground.

“Hey, hey! No!” He yells, scrambling to grasp the sword attached to his back. Y/n raises an eyebrow as she gets a closer look at the weapon.

“A diamond sword? Huh? Did Technoblade give you that?”

The man visibly stills, his hands fumbling the sword as he brings it up beside his face. “Yeah, what about it?”

Y/n shakes her head, a sad smile on her cheeks. “Nothing, Techno’s an old friend of mine. Tell me, is he well?”

The squeal of an arrow stops the man from answering her question. Y/n steps back when the sharp object swizzles past her head. “That wasn’t very nice.”

She chooses to pay no attention to the other hunter, who hides behind a tree and instead focuses on the one in front of her.

“Are you new?” Y/n asks calmly.

The man nods before Y/n lowers him back onto his feet. “Name. Now. That’s not a question but a demand.”

“Sapnap.”

Y/n squints at him. “Odd.”

“Y/n! We need help!” Wilbur calls from the opposite side of the house. Y/n sighs and places her hands back to her sides. The man with the diamond sword narrows his eyes at her, jerking his neck to the side to stretch it.

Y/n sighs in annoyance and sweeps him to the side, the roots from Niki’s rose bushes wrapping tightly around his body; not enough to hurt him, but to keep him immobile.

Y/n goes to step in the direction of the front of the house but is stopped by the man in the mask. A bow and quiver sit on his back and Y/n glances at them, planning on destroying them. “Don’t even think about it.”

Y/n is taken aback by the man’s forwardness and watches as he draws a dagger from his boot. Y/n raises her hands again, her eyes turning to slits as she awaits the man’s next moves.

As anticipated, he lunges forward, the knife tightly held in his fist. Y/n swiftly dodges, her hands moving majestically around to form a divet in the ground for him to fall into. However, she is quickly mistaken when he spins on his heel and steps over the growing hole.

“Nice tactic,” The man teases. “But not good enough.” Y/n is annoyed that she can’t see his face—she'd love to see what it’d look like after this.

Y/n rolls her eyes, a bored look on her face. She sighs deeply and steps into a fighting stance. She notices the man doing the same.

“Nice footwork,” Y/n says, stomping one foot into the earth before it starts to vibrate. “But not good enough.”

The man’s face falls and pales behind his mask as vines come to conceal his feet. Y/n smirks as he falls onto the dirt with a thump. The man lays with his back against the ground and his arms outstretched as Y/n stands above him.

She smiles at him—her grin is more genuine than usual, which is odd considering the circumstances—and leans down and places her mouth near his ear. “You know, you did pretty well for being a new hunter.”

The man scoffs then laughs in response. “Thanks.”

—

A hunter draws his sword, one made out of netherite, and Wilbur’s eyes grow in shock. “How did you get that?”

The man smirks and lifts the weapon high into the air. He brings it down towards Wilbur, who quickly matches the hunter’s strength with his staff. The two objects clash against one another and white light begins to seep through the lines in the staff.

Wilbur inhales sharply at the sight and pushes the man away with all his might. His staff starts to vibrate and soon the wood cracks in various places.

“Wil, move!” Y/n comes from behind him, her hands out wide as she lifts the hunter into the air and towards a tree. His body slams against the bark, making pieces fall onto the grass before branches weave around the man, enclosing him in a cocoon.

“Thanks,” Wilbur smiles, although it falters when he notices his staff becoming weak. “But I think it’s the end for this guy.”

Y/n frowns, her fingers caressing the cracked wood. “We can’t repair this. You must go to Quackity, he’ll be able to fix it.”

“I can’t fix this.”

Y/n’s jaw goes slack before she stands from the long table. “Alex! Why not?”

Quackity stifles a sly laugh as he rounds the table, picking up the broken staff on the way past. “It’s beyond repair. You see, when netherite and magical objects mix, the netherite completely destroys any magic within it. Therefore making it impossible to fix.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes, “We know that already, Sherlock, which is why we brought it to you thinking you could help us. But you clearly can’t, so we’ll be on our way.”

Quackity’s eyes widen and he drops the stick onto the table once more. “No! I–I can fix it, just give me a few days.”

Y/n raises an eyebrow, suspicious of his sudden enthusiasm. She slams the staff onto the table from Quackity’s hands and looks him in the eye. “No fucking around, okay, Alex? You fix this staff or there will be consequences. Got it?”

The man looks around his cave in search of something. Y/n squints as she watches him duck under rocks and dodge around cauldrons.

“Karl? Have you got any wands?” He calls down a hallway. Y/n and Wilbur meet gazes, his eyes moving towards the staff before Quackity returns in a hurry.

“Well, I haven’t got a wand to cast a promising spell, but if you come back in 2 days, I’ll guarantee this staff will be good as new and back in business,” He smiles, snatching the wood from the table. “Free of charge, just for you.”

Wilbur nods hesitantly, glancing at Y/n before he stands. “Okay. See you then, I guess.”

Quackity grins. He slowly shifts his weight to his other foot as he waits for them to leave. But Y/n isn’t finished.

“If you trick us, Alex. I swear to god I will take that little hat if yours and shove it right—”

The younger man shakes his head, “There will be no need! I’d never trick you! I just want to help my friends.”

Wilbur winces on the word ‘friends’ and ducks his head as he exits the cave. “See you!” Quackity says before Y/n follows in suit.

“Karlos, we’ve got work to do!”

“Down this way!”

Dream’s eyes drift towards the small cottage he and the hunters were at yesterday. Sapnap rolls his neck and groans in pain. “You’d think they’d wait a few days before going out again.”

Dream ignores his friend’s complaints as the group nears the house. The tidy garden and ivy that intertwined along the roof are torn and disrupted, and Dream feels slightly guilty looking at the damage they did. But, upon arrival, the house is empty.

“It’s been abandoned!” A brunette hunter yells in confusion. Dream twists his lips and narrows his eyes at a faint snap a few feet away. The silence is deafening as he realises everyone else heard it too. “Don’t move. We’ve been ambushed.”

The men look up towards the trees above them; the canopy appears darker than usual. Suddenly, a hunter behind Dream yelps, and as he turns around to see what happened, the man is gone. This causes a collective gasp amongst the group, fear coursing through their veins.

“Hello, boys!” A voice calls from the trees. The hunters whip their head around, trying to decipher which direction it came from and readies their swords. However, Dream remains calm. He only raises his eyebrow at the sound of the voice continuing. “Lovely seeing you here.”

Another yell echoes through the group and another and another until only Dream and Sapnap remain.

“Hey, Snapmap. Can I call you that? Or is that only reserved for your friends?”

The younger boy furrows his eyebrows as his eyes lay on Y/n, floating down from the trees. Dream watches the same girl he fought yesterday, fling Sapnap’s sword away with the swish of her fingers. The pair tilt their heads at the action and remain quiet when Y/n begins laughing. “Calm down, you’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dream feels someone behind him and then he turns around and swings his sword in one movement. He’s met with a slightly taller man, who immediately forces his sword backwards and onto the dirt.

Dream’s eyes widen before he brings his fists up. “This isn’t a fair fight.”

Wilbur struggles to contain his giggle as he meets Y/n’s gaze. “You want to take this one?”

Y/n nods and lifts her hands to drag Dream across the forest floor towards her. Dream is startled as he regains his balance. “Nice seeing you again, mask boy.”

“Can’t say I feel the same, witch,” Y/n smirks at his serious tone before she shoots her hand to the side to gather a sword from one of the hunters who sits tied to the branches above them.

“Get your sword, it’ll be a fair fight.”

Dream bends down to pick up his netherite sword, its purple aura intimidating to the iron one Y/n holds. “No magic.”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “Got it.”

And with the sound of metal scraping against metal, the fight begins.

Y/n steps back as Dream moves forwards. He bounces on the balls of his feet and adjusts his grip on the sword before he lunges forward. Y/n is quick to sidestep the sharp edge before she retaliates with her own movement. The pair continue barely missing each other, the interaction being a friendly fight rather than a deadly one. Y/n shifts her weight to her back foot as she watches Dream’s sword swing between them.

“What’s your name, anyway? I know Sapnap’s, so what’s yours?” Y/n asks, out of breath slightly. Dream squints as he dodges her swing at his abdomen. “Dream.”

“Well, Dream, you’re good with a sword. I’m Y/n, by the way.” Y/n mumbles, and what she doesn’t see is Dream’s cocky smile. She doesn’t question his odd name like she did with Sapnap yesterday, and it makes his stomach turn.

The pair stop for a second, staring at each other before Dream’s blade cuts the air and barely misses Y/n’s shoulder. The girl gasps at the closeness and scolds him.

In Dream’s moment of victory, and distraction, Y/n thrusts forwards, her sword coming to a halt at Dream’s throat. “I win. Again.”

Dream gulps. The feeling of the sharp point so prominent on his skin scares him. But, the soft look in Y/n’s eye tells him she’s not going to kill him. And as she begins to lower her sword, Dream’s foot sweeps under hers, causing her to tumble forward. There’s a dull thud of bodies hitting the dirt, and Y/n knows exactly where she is.

“I—Uh,” Dream mumbles, his hands hovering over Y/n’s hips as she lays on top of him.

“Thanks for that.” She murmurs. Dream hums and tries to help her maneuver off of him. The pair eventually stand and avoid eye contact, despite keeping it for close to 8 minutes straight previously.

“Get a room!” Sapnap yells from the tree. There’s a small grumble of laughter from the other hunters and Y/n shakes her head.

“How do you plan on getting down, Snapmap?” The youngest boy’s expression turns sour. Dream tilts his head back to observe the other hunters and laughs lightly—his throaty chuckle making Y/n look at him.

“Well, have fun!” Y/n calls as she slips away, but not before she bids Dream goodbye.

The hunters trudge through the castle gates with defeated expressions and their outfits muddy. The group share collective groans of pain as they walk the grounds, their muscles aching.

“What was all that between you and that witch?” Sapnap asks Dream whilst they enter the Hunters Wing of the castle. Dream shrugs and strips himself of his jacket, hanging it on the peg on the wall next to them.

The Hunters Wing of the castle is a large area with corridors of bedrooms and even more rooms for dining, training, cooking, reading, and more. The training room, however, is the largest out of all of them. Its high ceilings and concrete pillars make for a great place for target practice, surprise attack run-throughs, and performing hand-to-hand combat.

Dream spends most of his time here; Sapnap pokes fun at him for his constant preparation for new opportunities, but their other best friend, and the Prince, George, just applauds him for his determination—which eventually makes Sapnap agree.

“Nothing, and her name’s Y/n.” Dream’s lack of answer causes Sapnap to sigh loudly as he sits on the bench to untie his boots.

“Bullshit.” He exasperates. “There was definitely something there and you know it. But you better get over it, it's forbidden.”

Dream rolls his eyes and shrugs one shoulder. “Not forbidden, just frowned upon.”

Sapnap drops his shoes onto the cobblestone ground abruptly, groaning at his best friend before he stands and walks towards his bedroom. “You are such a—”

“Sapnap!” A new voice startles the boy, and Dream grins as soon as he recognises it.

“Georgie, don’t scare me like that, you idiot,” Sapnap whines, jogging over to the Prince to lightly punch his shoulder.

“Please, if that scared you then I’d consider you a—” Another light punch to his shoulder stops George from continuing.

“No swearing, Gogy,” Dream snickers as he walks towards the pair, heaving his duffle bag he collected from the cubby hole. He reaches his hand down to George’s cheek before pinching it. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your image.”

George shrugs both of the boys off of him with a scowl. “Get off of me, the both of you.”

Sapnap only giggles at George’s attempt at swatting their hands away, his own hand coming up to cover his smile. Dream places his bag on the floor, smirking, before letting out a soft laugh.

“Anyways, Dream had a moment with one of the witches today.”

George’s eyebrows raise as he turns to look at Dream, who rolls his eyes at the topic again. “Is she pretty?”

Dream goes to reply, yes, and she can fight really, really well, but Sapnap is quick to shut down his chance.

“George, it’s forbidden, why don’t you disapprove of this?” Sapnap’s brows furrow as he throws his hands around. Dream crosses his arms over his chest, irritated that he’s brought it up again, and now to the Prince.

The eldest shrugs. “I find magic more interesting and worth learning about, than dangerous. It would be so cool to have powers like that, don't you think?”

Sapnap groans again. “Ugh! You guys are so weird. Talk to me when you come to your senses about how it's destroying our world rather than helping it.” And ignoring Dream and George’s calls, he stalks to his room, leaving the pair in the training room.

“He’ll come around.” The Prince mumbles.

However, Dream doesn't say anything, picks up his duffle bag from the floor and takes off in the opposite direction, leaving George alone.

“Pricks.”

Y/n sits on the rocking chair on the patio of the cottage, a spellbook in her lap and a mug of lavender tea in her hand. The wind picks up slightly, making the leaves rustle and the trees sway around her. The chair rocks softly and the creaks of the house comfort her—especially in a time when everything is unknown.

As she goes to bring the cup to her lips, Y/n is startled by an object flying at her. She throws her opposite hand up to stop it before it hits her, the force causing the rocking chair to tilt backwards.

Y/n feels a sharp edge on her palm and her heart skips a beat. As she moves her hand away, she notices that the object is, in fact, not a dagger, but an envelope. She exhales loudly and feels her heart rate slow down from its once rapid beating.

Y/n examines the letter as it floats in front of her face and then grasps it in her fingers. The envelope is crisp and white and is closed with a red wax seal. The signature can only mean one thing: the Castle.

Opening the letter, there is a single white card with black calligraphy: Y/n, wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark, at the abandoned cottage that is East of the castle. We can talk then. –C

The witch furrows her eyebrows. C? Who is C?

She chooses against notifying Wilbur and Niki about the letter, and instead, slots it into her spellbook and takes a sip of her tea.

But, Y/n notices a return address on the card before she tucks it away, and flicks her hand back over her shoulder to summon a pen and paper. The pen stills in front of the card, waiting for Y/n to instruct it on what to write.

“Dear, C,” Y/n starts, she ponders for a moment before continuing. “I’ll be waiting for the signal, I hope it’s grand.”

Puckering her lips, Y/n swirls her finger around to fold the letter up and sends it back inside to package it.

The envelope, now sealed with periwinkle wax, flies out of the floor and then up into the sky and out of sight. Y/n sighs, mindlessly fiddling with the corner of the card she received.

Ok, she’ll meet them after dark. Whoever they are.

[dreams-of-yunho]

o, swear not by the moon

yunho x princess reader

rating: m

genre: smut with a dash of angst

wc: 2.7k

warnings: sex !!!!!!! just kinda sex stuff idk

summary: you fell in love with the enemy and he breaks your heart

:( but in a sexc way

______________________________________________________________

O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, who monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

If the days were forgiving, you did not know. If there was love in this life, you could not feel it.

But, the day you met him, among the tulips, everything seemed to shine more brilliantly. Everything felt more warm.

~

Water coated your feet as you glided through the rain soaked grass, returning to your promised place. Dense mist hung in the cool night air. Drops of water hit your face as you slid through the leaf covered branches which concealed the forest alcove.

You had met him during the vibrant summer months, when the forest was at its fullest. When the leaves were green, bright moss clung to the sides of trees, shade living flowers thrived. But now, an eastern wind ran over your skin and the leaves turned brown and fell to a cold ground.

Blush coloured silk brushed across your goosebump covered skin as the breeze caught the hem of your dress. Lily Pads and their flowers shifted across the pond’s surface. This place, once a great temple, had been built by the ancient elders of your empire for the forest deities. And, as the old gods were lost to time and the first age passed, the once glorious house of worship became a forgotten forest alcove; a great willow tree grew, tall and proud, from the ruins of the marble temple. A murky pond who’s bottom seemed limitless and was concealed by delicate flowers, swayed around the stone foundation. Honeysuckle vines climbed towards the forest canopy across the decaying and crumbling pillars.

War had drained your spirits and left you cold and alone. You could barely remember the days before, when you were so young and ignorant. How the palace was alive with music, parties, and love. How your father and mother would kiss you goodnight and bid you farewell to the realm of dreams. Then, one day you woke and they were gone; that warmth drained.

The warrior princess, your mother was heir to the throne of the empire and, in a scandalous affair, married her younger brother’s best friend and general of the eastern army. They both died in battle, their bodies never returned to the royal capital for burial.

With the war came the clouds; heavy and gray. The sun seemed to disappear, die. So did the spirits of your people. Food became scarce, fathers and brothers were sent to war, and the raging fire of hope doused in an ocean of fear.

After years of brutal and unforgiving warfare, a caravan rode into the capital. Believing they had thoroughly gutted and drained your empire of all it was worth, the enemy came to commence talks of peace.

The son of the chief diplomat-- he came with his father to the palace and, now, sat at the edge of the half submerged temple stairs, kicking his feet in the chilly water.

“Yunho,” you called, the pond standing between you and him.

He glanced up and smiled, waving a beckoning arm.

He had been at the palace for nearly three months now though, you’ve only known him for one. He came from an empire in the south where the sun knew no night and, even in the white light of the moon, his skin glowed golden. Long nights you spent under the star scattered sky as he told you of his coastal home; blue waters and warm winters. How you longed to sink your feet into the white sand of his palace beaches, to feel the sun on your skin again.

Though, as you came to sit next to him on the cold, stone stairs, felt the warmth he generated, the golden light he seemed to produce-- you realized that you didn’t miss the sun as much as you used to.

“I have news from the negotiations,” his voice echoed through the ruins. “This foul war is over; there will be peace again.”

These words could not be true. With the joyful memories of your childhood not even shadows in your mind; a waring state was all you knew.

He seemed to sense your reluctance to believe as he said, “it is true, my love. Our armies have been told to stand down and will be pulled from their posts come next week. It’s all over.” Warmth spread over your cheek as his hand met your face, a gentle smile across his red-wine lips.

“This is glorious news,” you cheered, mind lost in a cloudy excitement. Yet, his words seemed to pull you down to earth; all over. “Yunho,” you raised your head to meet his deep brown eyes, and you couldn’t help but see sorrow in them. “What’s wrong? This is a time of celebration but you seem to mourn.”

He removed the hand from your cheek and returned it to his lap. “I ride south with my father at first light. There is news that my sister has given birth to a boy and, with his work here done, father does not wish to wait any longer to hold his first grandchild.”

“No,” was all you could manage to speak.

He wasn’t supposed to leave; he was your life. Without him, you would sink into the darkness again.

“N-no,” you didn’t know what to do, how to act. Your hands began to shake, acting upon their own volition. Your shoulders followed. Suddenly, you couldn’t breath; the weight of the world crashing down upon your lungs.

“y/n,” Yunho reached for your hands, eyes widened in concern.

But you began to wheeze harder as his warmth spread throughout your body. What would you do without him? What would you become?

Your world shifted as he pulled you into his arms, your head falling against his shoulder. “I’m here,” he spoke into your neck. “I’m here.”

Crisp air filled your lungs again as you became limp in his arms and your mind swam in his words. He was here now, you thought. These were his arms which held you and his lips which spoke and soothed.

Your fingers reached for the lips you’ve loved before, thumb brushing against the plush curves as he comforted you. The fall of his nose, arch of his brow, sweep of his eyelashes, angle of his cheekbones; sharp yet beautiful features, a face you could never forget-- the face of your soulmate.

“Will you forget me?” your arms wrapped around his neck to bring you face-to-face with him.

“We won’t be apart long enough for a single strand of your precious hair to disappear from my memory.” His breath danced across your jaw. “As the moon joins us each night,” sweet whispers fell from his lips and fell to the shell of your ear. “I will return for you. I promise you, my love.”

“Kiss me,” you told him. “Love me while you’re still here.”

Tears began to well in the corners of your eyes as he looked at you, unmoving, just staring. “If I love you now,” he said softly. “It will hurt more while we’re apart.”

“I want to remember the feeling of your lips on mine; your gentle touch.” You held his face in your sorrowful, needy hands. “Please, Yunho.”

“I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

“Yunho,” you swiped a thumb across the apple of his cheek. “You could never hurt me. I love you -- now and forever.”

His forehead met yours as his eyes dropped and he released a shaky breath. “Now and forever,” he repeated, lips moving to meet yours.

His hands fell to your hips as your lips moved against his. Your hands running through his dusty brown hair as he gently sucked on your bottom lip. You grabbed his hand and brought it to the intersection of your neck and shoulders, wanting to feel his warmth on your bare skin.

Lips separated with a quiet smack and he began to press gentle kisses to your cheeks, nose, and the corners of your eyes. Slowly, his lips traveled down to where his hand rested on your skin, causing hushed whispers to leave your mouth. “C-can,” he pulled his lips away from your soft skin. “Can you kneel back?” He asked, running his hands across your curves with great desperation.

Your hands dropped from his hair to his shoulders as you raised yourself to rest on your knees. Wide eyes stared up at you as he sat, a hand reaching up to move your hair back. His hand rested on your cheek and you nuzzled into the warmth. The other ran behind you, tugging at the laces of your dress.

Shivers ran over your skin as the silk of your dress pooled around your legs leaving you in nothing but a thin slip. You kneeled before him as he stood, a finger tracing over your jaw. “Come here,” he called, hand leaving your face to extend the invitation.

You stood and immediately collapsed into his arms. “I love you,” he cooed. Soft hands grazed your shoulders as he slid the straps of your slip and dropped them down your arms. His tongue ran over his top lip as he looked down at your exposed flesh. A shaky hand reached out to touch you but pulled back slowly.

“What’s wrong, Yunho?” You asked worriedly. Did he not like what he saw? Were you not his type? Were you not like the other girls he’d been with? Not pretty enough?

“Nothing,” he sighed and smiled down at you, a hand finally caressing your goosebump covered frame. “You’re just so pretty; I-i don’t deserve you.” He pressed his lips against your forehead.

But he did deserve you. He deserved you and more.

“Take your clothes off, Yunho.”

His head flew up having not expected such an order from you. But, nonetheless he obliged. Nimble fingers worked the ties of his coat and buttons of his shirt. As the last piece of clothing hit the stony ground, you took a step towards him, your palm coming to rest on his toned torso. “You deserve the world and more,” you said, slightly more shaky than you had anticipated.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “You’re perfect, y/n.”

You sighed at his words.

Wet lips suddenly met the side of your neck, sucking until a dark purple mark appeared. His tongue ran down the valley between your breasts causing you to gasp. Air left your chest again as he swept you off your feet, laying you gently on your discarded gown.

“So perfect,” he barely whispered, staring down at you.

His gaze was painfully intense. You couldn’t stand it. It was like he was looking at a meal.

“Yunho,” you whined. “Please, don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re just so beautiful.” His knees landed in between your parted legs, preventing you from closing them as you would instinctually.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto you, his lips dancing with yours. An elbow supported him as he entangled another in your soft hair.

An aroma of rose petals surrounded you, as if he bathed in rose water. Roses were a rare and exotic flower which weren’t native to your empire. You would miss it. The scent of roses having become a constant in your life.

The kiss deepened and your hands grabbed at his broad shoulders. His tongue entered your mouth, brushing against your front teeth.

Reluctantly, you pushed him away, desperate for air. But, he didn’t stop kissing your body, his lips sucking softly on your neck. Your hands ran up his neck into his hair and his sweet lips returned to yours.

Tenderly, a hand ran down your side and to the inside of your thighs. Your heart raced as no one had ever placed a hand there before.

“It’s okay, my princess,” his lips fell to your collar bones. “I’ll make you feel good.”

Warm fingers traced the lips of your pussy, becoming slick with your wetness. Softly, they came to press against your clit and you shifted your hips, having never felt something like this before.

“Relax,” he cooed, his hand parting to encouragingly rub your hip.

You nodded, signaling for him to continue and he returned to gently rubbing at your nub. The warm feeling coming from his fingers quickly turned into a flaming heat. Deep in your lower stomach, something began to stir.

“I,” you didn’t know what to say, the feeling totally foreign.

“Relax, love,” he repeated, his fingers quickening.

The feeling in your stomach grew tenfold; a tight, knot like feeling.

Then it snapped.

Tears streamed down your cheeks and glued your hair to your neck. It all came crashing down on you at once and you sobbed as you came. He was going to leave you. The scent of roses would disappear. His warmth would fade. He wouldn't make you feel like this again; like you were swimming in the pools of heaven--bliss.

“Y/n,” his hands left your body and flew to your face. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

“No,” you tried to steady for breath as you came down from your orgasm and grief. “I just love you so much.”

His eyes melted from worry to tenderness. “I love you more than you could ever know.” His lips pressed gently on yours.

You matched the slow and passionate pace of his lips as you caressed his neck and shoulders. You shifted and your thigh brushed against the angry tip of his dick, causing him to moan into the kiss.

He broke the kiss to press his forehead against yours. “Can I make love to you?” He asked, his breath shaky, desperate, and, almost, pained.

“Yes,” you moaned, feeling something brush against your swollen clit.

“Ack,” you watched him wince as he grabbed his cock in his hand, pumping it quickly. His face contorted in pleasure so beautifully; you wondered if you looked like that when he touched you.

“This will sting a little,” you felt his tip at your hole. “But it will feel so good.”

He watched your face as his tip entered you. And, it didn’t hurt you at all, so he pushed further in. He was immense, stretching your tight walls impossibly.

You tightly clenched your jaw, feeling like you were being torn in half.

“It’s okay, y/n, my love,” he brushed your hair lovingly. “It’ll feel better when I move.”

“Move,” you choked out, your body incredibly tense.

He pulled his hips back and pushed back in slowly. He repeated, rocking his hips back and forth until the burning turned into pleasure.

“That’s it, princess,” his pace quickened as your walls clenched around him. “You're so beautiful, princess.”

He started to push deeper into you, his hips meeting yours with wet smacks. Your hands desperately gripped his shoulders in need of stability.

It was rapid, the growing of the lustful knot in your stomach. All you could do was moan out as he thrusted into you.

His mouth enclosed yours in a breathy kiss as he felt his own release approaching, the thrusts becoming faster and increasingly deep. Your orgasm threatened to slam into you as his tip grazed a deep spot, causing you to see stars.

“You feel amazing,” he breathed.

The praise encouraged you, your hips coming to meet his, pushing him impossibly deep.

“Y-yunho,” you continued to moan out his name like a credo.

“Come with me,” he kissed up your neck. “Come for me, princess.”

Your second orgasm was even more wonderful than the first, crashing down upon you like a waterfall. Your nails dug into his muscular shoulders, legs trembling around him.

The feeling of his cum painting your walls was like a third orgasm. His warmth completely filling you to the brim.

“I love you, y/n,” Yunho peppered your face with light kisses as he pulled out of you. “Now and forever.”

~

The sun shone above your free nation, beating down upon you, kissing your skin red as you stood in the field of tulips but, you couldn’t feel it. You were cold, frozen, alone.

Do not swear at all.

[thebloker]

for the Skyjacks snippets: 28 and Travis?

28. Blasphemous Rumours - Depeche Mode

oh this song for travis and tfq is fucking delicious thank you !!

A smirk crosses Travis’ face as The Forest Queen moves with slow and verdant grace to claim his okus. His mortality shimmers and shifts in the ligneous growth of her palm, disappearing from view in a slow-moving swathe of vines that snakes its way down the bark of her limbs. Travis’ breath catches in his chest when they take root, sees columbine bloom where he is absorbed, feels roots wrapping around his individual ribs. 

“Your Majesty,” he says breathlessly, his charismatic wink undermined by a hand unconsciously rubbing his chest. “The rumors they’ll start about us.”

The Forest Queen turns her moon-glow gaze on him. Her features shift slowly, a terrifyingly tender sharp-toothed smile growing over her face. Her unrefined facial features bloom in unusual reddish-tinged moss, an eerie imitation blush that spreads down her long neck, down her arm as it leisurely reaches out to Travis. White columbine blooms on her extended fingertips, and it falls artfully onto the lapel of Travis’ jacket. “Sweet William, I could hardly let anyone else at this table claim you.” Her voice is the sound of wind through trees, the soft susurration of leaves and musical groan of limbs gently bowed.

Travis casts his eyes down to see the star-white flower take root in his collar, soft new grown stems and leaves twining around the back of his neck and settling gently in his hair. It’s a tender, motherly caress. The power of the being responsible for it makes the hair of Travis’ nape stand on end in equal parts thrill and fear. He turns his nose into the bloom and smiles appreciatively at the honey-sweet smell. He meets the beryl smolder of The Forest Queen’s unblinking eyes, his voice low and respectful. “It’s a favor I won’t forget.”

The Queen’s thorny-toothed smile grows wider, too wide to resemble human, splitting her features as she replies. “I know you won’t.”

—

Travis is curled in the nest of The Forest Queen’s hands, his lungs too small for the amount of water inside of them. He’s been there all night, drowning in her grasp without drowning at all, tied to her by the roots that encase his ribs. He feels them squeeze, gentle but firm, and retches up water that splashes and glistens against her bark. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispers, the willow leaves of her hair shielding him from the world as he weeps into the moss of her palms. “I know you cared for her. I could not let the River claim you as well.”

As Travis mourns the home that could have been, caught fast in the hold of the home he’d gambled for, he thinks of the fear that brought him to The Forest Queen’s domain. The fear of being a rootless wanderer as long as he lived, the fear of living forever but never having a place he belonged.

He knows he’s where he belongs now, in the tender care of her silver-birch grove. 

Travis would give anything to be unmoored again. Give anything to be free to pursue the end he wanted, his bones entwined with Margaret’s on the riverbed.

He knows that She knows. The Queen has always known him better than he’s known himself. But she loves him, and couldn’t bear to see him die. He knows the feeling; if he had her power, he would have done the same for his own love.

The tears fall in sparkling splashes down his cheeks as he presses his face into the soothing soft bed of moss. Sap drips down her trunk in slow mimicry as the Queen weeps with him. Travis closes his eyes. He buries his face in his own hands as he tries to seek comfort in himself, the only person he knows will always be there.