#wind chill chart

[tornadoquest]

Tornado Quest Top Science Links For January 13 - 20, 2024 #science #weather #climate #climatechange #earthquake #wintersafety #windchill #droughtmonitor

Greetings everyone. This week, we have an interesting read on earthquake threat in the USA. We’ll also continue our look at winter weather safety and the latest US Drought Monitor. Infographic courtesy NOAA/NWS Infographic courtesy NWS Fort Worth, Texas Where are damaging earthquakes likely to occur in the USA? Take a look at this map. The climate of our planet has a substantial effect on…

[harmoonix]

☘️ Zephyr ☘️

(Astrology Observations)

☘️Do you recall, not long ago

We would walk on the sidewalk☘️

☘️Innocent, remember

All we did was care for each other☘️

☘️ 11H placements especially Sun/Moon/Venus/Mercury make beautiful boundings with people, they're sending this peaceful energy to everyone

☘️ Some "Mini - Observations" if you have Moon aspecting Jupiter ☘️

You attract so much joy in your life

Easy manifestations

Spiritual People

Wise Soul

Powerful Intuition

Beautiful Smile

☘️ Mercury aspecting Moon natives are so good at telling stories, they have that type of humour combined with storytimes

☘️ If you have Saturn in your 1st/4th/10th or in Aries, Cancer or Capricorn your childhood years or the years til you become an adult can be the most roughest/difficult 🤍

☘️ Saturn/Chiron or Neptune in the 11H can sometimes izolate from others, if they feel like there is not their place they'll just leave for a better one

☘️ Sun/Saturn in the 12H can have disassociation issues, like they can disassociate/detach easily from people, is not their fault is just a protection mechanism

☘️ Neptune/Sun/Saturn and Pluto in the 12H can cause trouble with sleeping, like you're always feeling tired or exhausted, you can have tired eyes

☘️ Gemini Mercuries/Moons have a very calming voice, that type of voice you can listen for hours!! Also the type of voice who gives you chills

☘️ Uranus sitting empty in a chart can indicate someone who is not aware of their gifts/talents and what you can do, you can change things into better even if you don't realize that

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

But the night was warm

We were bold and young

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

☘️ If you are an overthinker and you have Neptune or Chiron in the 7H don't enter in a relationship until you learn how to end these thoughts because it can create a lot of illusion towards your love relationships, try to work on your overthinking issues and things can get better

☘️ Sun aspecting Mercury is giving young soul/young kid vibes doesn't matter their age, their inner child is always active somehow! I love their cute vibes

☘️ Chiron aspecting your Midheaven can indicate collective healing, meeting people who have the same issues/problems/trauma as you? That's a sign

☘️ Lilith in the 5H or in leo degrees (5°, 17°, 29°) can feel like people come into your attention just to annoy/provoke you for no reason

☘️ Lilith in Aries, Cancer, Capricorn, Libra (Cardinal Lilith) are generational breakers, you came here to end something toxic that your ancestors couldn't

☘️ If someone has their Venus or Moon in the same signs as yours you can get along very good! Like from the first conversation

☘️ Sagittarius/Pisces Midheaven can have a spiritual path life because of Jupiter as their ruler, is not always about work is about combining spirituality with your everyday life

☘️ Pisces Jupiter/Jupiter in the 12H can have that type of spouse who will have an immediate connection with them, also a very spiritual or intuitive spouse

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

All around, the wind blows

We would only hold on to let go

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

☘️ Sagittarius Jupiter/Jupiter in the 9H is when Jupiter hits home, and feels the best, we can have a blessed/gifted relation with the spouse here, either a very beautiful spouse with an adventurous personality

☘️ Mars in the 3rd house/Mars in Aries/Aries in the 3rd house like to do things fast, they're like one minute here the next one there, always on speed

☘️ Jupiter in the 4th/Cancer can give that vibe of marrying someone from your childhood especially in your Vedic/D9 Chart!! I think is a very beautiful placement if you had lots of crushes in your childhood, you can end up marrying one of them later

☘️ Moon/Cancer/Taurus/Venus in your 6th can make you easily attached to animals, to nature, to your environment is always you attracting things out of the mother nature

☘️ Some "Mini - Observations" if you have Juno asteroid aspecting Mercury

Good connection with the spouse

Eye to eye communication

You know what your partner is thinking about easily

Those long night stories/conversations with your spouse

The spouse can be younger than you

The spouse has a good eye for organizing and sleeping everything in order

☘️ When someone has their Mars sign opposite to yours, you can easily have that type of "harsh" relation between eachother

☘️ Lilith in Aquarius is when Lilith comes and says " I don't give a fuck about anything, I'll do my own thing", Their rebellious energy on top

☘️ In a relationship between a Virgo and a Scorpio, the Scorpio person will be dominant while the Virgo one can be more posesive

☘️ Capricorn Men are so cute like they just mind their business in like their own comfort, not disturbing anybody and just living their lives, is so peaceful

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

Blow a kiss, fire a gun

We need someone to lean on

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

☘️ If you have ever dated someone with Aries Placements what would you choose, riding for a rodeo or riding on their nerves because sometimes it feels like doing both

☘️ Leo Rising/Sun/Chiron heals when you finally started to accept yourself like "Bye to all of these useless things in my life and let the new things to arrive" and to love yourself more

☘️ I see so often Aquarius, Virgo and Gemini Risings being called as the "smart ass ones" because all these 3 signs rule over analytical intelligent skills

☘️ When you have Lilith aspecting Saturn in a way you don't get along that good with adults or with people who try to control you or to make you submissive to them

☘️ Virgo Suns/Moons can put a lot of effort into all the things they do, they represent the "service" or "devotion" and they wanna make it to work

☘️ When you have Chiron in the 12H or in Pisces it can feel like people ignore your pain or they'll just go "over it", somehow it manifests like you just want tell someone how you feel and what it hurts you and just ignore it

☘️ Chiron on Aries or in Aries Degrees 1°, 13°, 25° can be afraid of trying new things, is like something stops them from doing that, you can always try make new things if you enjoy them

☘️ Pure Heart, Pure Love is someone what Venus - Moon aspects has, Venus makes them to be softly in love yet still very romantic

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

What will we do when we get old

Will we walk down the same road

Will you be there by my side

Standin' strong as the waves roll

over

═════ ♢.✰.♢ ═════

☘️ Moon Dominant natives often have an oval face and sparkly/watery eyes, their eyes can be very sensbile though (to light) and they can often have problems with the vision

☘️ Earth Sign in your 2H suggest a love for finances/wealth/rich life, craving for luxury or for rare/expensive things

☘️ Sagittarius Placements are the epitome of "open minded people" they are accepting of everyone and everything. I just love their energy so much

☘️ A very prominent 6H can make you to be always in alert for your health, it can also show you get mentally exhausted fast and you can be lazy sometimes

☘️ North Node at 4°, 16°, 28° degrees can indicate having your own legacy from your family or ancestors is like a lesson they left, for you

☘️ North Node at 7° 19° indicates a life path where love finds its way in your life, it can be loving yourself or loving others

☘️ Capricorn/Aries/Taurus Moons/Risings are the roughest on the outside and very sensitive on the inside, they may act a bit too "rough" sometimes

☘️ 1st house ruler in the 9th > You need to TRAVEL/EXPLORE, visit as much as you can! Because thats how you can fullfil yourself/same if you have the North Node in the 9H

☘️ If you lack earth placements in your chart, you need more grounding/connecting with mother earth/walk barefoot in the nature/hug the trees/ lay on the grass/these are very good practices to embrace the earth

When the nights are long ☘️

☘️Longing for you to come home

~ If my soul lived somewhere before my birth it would be 100% the pictures in this post ~ harmoonix

Blow a kiss, fire a gun

[sudden-stops-kill]

wind chill - heat index

[elryuse]

Yandere Aespa x Male Manager

y/n wants to quit after getting a big offer to be a manager in one of YG's new groups, Baby Monster..Aespa doesn't like that and does anything for y/n to stay with them.

WHERE U BELONG

YANDERE AESPA OT 4 X MALE READER

The sterile white of the hospital room felt like a mockery of the chaos outside. News reports of the sasaeng attack blared on the TV, each graphic image a fresh wave of terror washing over Karina. Y/n, their quiet, ever-reliable manager, lay unconscious in the bed, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor a fragile lifeline in the storm.

He wasn't supposed to be the hero. He wasn't supposed to get hurt. They were supposed to be the ones basking in the spotlight, the K-Pop goddesses that held Korea captive. But in a split second, the metal bar meant for Winter had been deflected, finding its mark on Y/n instead. Now, the only sound that filled the room was the strangled sobs of Ningning, the youngest, clinging to Y/n's hand like a lifeline.

"He saved us," Winter rasped, her voice barely a whisper. Her carefully constructed ice queen persona had melted, replaced by raw, unadulterated fear.

Giselle, the group's resident rapper, usually the epitome of cool, was a whirlwind of anxious energy. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were clouded with worry. Gone were the playful jabs and witty insults she'd hurl at Y/n - all she could muster was a hand hovering over his unmoving chest, an unspoken plea for him to wake up.

Karina, the leader, surprised them all. Usually the rock of the group, she broke character completely. The girl who commanded stages and silenced critics now paced the room like a caged animal, rage and vulnerability simmering in her fiery eyes. Each beep of the monitor was a reprieve, a reminder that their silent guardian angel hadn't yet abandoned them.

The days that followed were a blur of exhaustion and forced smiles. The girls kept a vigil by Y/n's bedside, taking turns to ensure he wasn't alone. Winter, in between composing tear-stained melodies, would recount stories of their upcoming comeback, hoping her voice would coax him back from the brink. Giselle, sleep-deprived and paranoid, spun elaborate conspiracy theories about the attack, fueled by a desperate need for a controllable villain. Ningning, innocent and terrified, clung to the belief that a simple song, poured from her heart, would be the key to his recovery.

Then, the news arrived. SM Entertainment, their label and the very foundation of their success, had decided to "promote" Y/n. He was being transferred to YG, their biggest competitor, to manage their new girl group, Babymonster.

"It's better for everyone," their CEO declared, his smile as sterile as the hospital room. "We'll find you a new manager. A more… experienced one."

The girls erupted in protest. Karina, usually the epitome of control, found herself screaming, her voice raw with a primal fear she didn't understand. Winter, always the mediator, was speechless, the song she was writing morphing into a desperate plea. Even Giselle, the cynic, faltered, replaced by a terrified child clinging to the only constant they had in their whirlwind world.

But their pleas fell on deaf ears. Power rested with SM, not with them.

The day Y/n left was a bleak December morning. The icy wind seemed to mirror the emptiness in their hearts. He offered them a weak smile, his voice hoarse from disuse. "I'll always be your biggest fan," he rasped, the words a hollow echo in the biting air. As the van carrying him away disappeared into the city traffic, a chilling realization dawned on them – they were adrift without him.

Months bled into a year. Babymonster, under Y/n's management, exploded onto the scene. Ahyeon, their lead vocalist with a voice as powerful as it was sweet, became a national sensation. Aespa, once the undisputed queens of K-Pop, found themselves struggling for relevance. The charts were dominated by Babymonster's infectious energy, while Aespa's carefully crafted image felt faded, their music lacking the spark it once held.

But their focus wasn't on the charts. It was on Y/n. The initial anger and hurt had morphed into a chilling obsession. They were haunted by memories, replaying every shared glance, every comforting touch, every stolen moment from their time together.

Karina, the leader, channeled her obsession into fierce protectiveness towards Ahyeon. She trained Ahyeon relentlessly, molding her into a mirror image of Aespa at their peak. But Ahyeon, despite her immense talent, lacked the spark that had ignited a fire in Y/n's eyes.

Winter, heartbroken and withdrawn, retreated further into her music. Every song she wrote was a veiled cry for help, a desperate plea to Y/n that only she could hear.

Giselle, her cynicism replaced by a burning desire for revenge decided to do the unthinkable and kidnapped Ahyeon from YG. Ahyeon vanished. One moment she was laughing with Giselle over a spilled smoothie, the next, a chilling silence enveloped the practice room. Panic clawed at Y/n's throat as security footage revealed a nondescript van speeding away from the YG building.

Days bled into a week, each passing hour a nail hammered into Y/n's chest. The kidnappers finally made contact: a distorted voice demanding Y/n in exchange for Ahyeon. The girls, their once vibrant faces etched with a feral desperation, surrounded him.

"They won't hurt you," Karina lied, her eyes gleaming with a psychotic glint. "Just a little trade. You for Ahyeon."

Y/n's gaze swept over each of them, the girls he once saw as talented young women now twisted by a possessive love that bordered on terrifying. He saw the desperation in Ningning's tear-streaked face, the cold calculation in Giselle's eyes, the raw hunger in Winter's stare.

"They wouldn't hesitate to hurt you, Y/n," Giselle countered, seeing through Karina's facade. "They need you to manage someone else. We need you to manage us."

The truth hung heavy in the air. Ahyeon's talent wasn't the only reason they craved Y/n back. He was their muse, their obsession, a twisted possession they couldn't bear to let go of.

A horrifying thought took root in Y/n's mind. They wouldn't kill him. They'd break him. Turn him into a twisted version of himself, living forever under their control.

He looked at Ahyeon's tear-stained picture plastered on every news channel. A young woman on the cusp of her dreams, stolen away for his sake.

"Alright," he rasped, his voice heavy with a sacrifice he didn't understand. "I'll go."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. The girls, their expressions a chilling mix of relief and twisted affection, surrounded him.

"They'll let Ahyeon go once they have you," Karina whispered, her lips brushing his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Ahyeon was released, the ordeal leaving her a shell of her former self. As she sobbed uncontrollably in the safe arms of her distraught parents, news reports announced Y/n's disappearance.

The girls watched, a sickening sense of satisfaction washing over them. They'd gotten what they wanted. Their manager, their obsession, back in their clutches.

Back at their opulent dorm, the mood shifted. It went from relief to a horrifying display of possessive affection. Karina, Winter, Giselle, and Ningning descended upon Y/n, their lips finding his in a desperate, almost violent display of love. Tears streamed down his face, not from pain, but from a chilling awareness of what he'd trapped himself in.

Ahyeon, watching the news report from her hospital bed, felt a scream die in her throat. The man who'd treated her with kindness, who'd believed in her talent, was now a prisoner of his former idols. All for her dream, a dream that now seemed tainted by his sacrifice.

As the girls' kisses turned rougher, their possessiveness morphing into something darker, Y/n's eyes held a chilling emptiness. He was a broken man, sacrificed not just for Ahyeon's dreams, but for the twisted desires of the girls he once cared about. In the opulent, gilded cage of Aespa's dorm, true horror unfolded, a twisted love story fueled by obsession and a sacrifice too monstrous to contemplate. The price of fame, for Ahyeon, had never been steeper.

[moralina]

WILD NIGHTS - WILD NIGHTS! | JJ MAYBANK

Summary: JJ decides to take you on an unusual date, and maybe you should've known that with him you could possibly end the night running away from security.

Warnings: nothing to do with the poem except for the title and i thought it'd be a great way to cut the scenes with lmao, also quickly edited, wanted to write more but also wanted to post this today. fem!reader.

Wc: 1.5k

Masterlist

My latest jj blurb

Not my gif

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Your feet met the slippery grass with a thud, making you slightly lose your balance but quickly adjusting your footing back as soon as his hands touched yours. 

"Where are we going?" you asked, hands pulling at the sleeves of your sweater trying to find warmth within. "I'm not complaining but i'd rather stay under my warm and soft blankets, y'know"

"it's worth it, i promise." he whispered even though there was no need to. Your parents were gone for a week, letting you by yourself while they visited some distant family member who you've never really met. "now c'mon" 

his right hand closed around yours, pulling your arm and bringing you with him to the parked van on the other side of the street.

"jj" you whined, sounding too much like a child but too cold to really care. 

"it's warm in the van" 

You hummed, still dreaming about your comfortable bed. 

Yesterday you had agreed to go on a date with jj - your first official date - but it didn't cross your mind to check the weather. How would you have guessed tonight would be as freezing as the inside of a freezer, when just yesterday night you were wearing a bikini and chilling in JB's backyard with the rest of your friends, relaxing in the warmth of the night. 

However, the weather betrayed you, and decided to suddenly change drastically on the exact day you and jj decided would be your date night.

"Ohmygod." You exhaled a breath of relief, relishing in the slightly warmer atmosphere of the van. 

After a few moments of staring and smiling like a fool in love, jj started the van. 

Futile - the winds -

To a Heart in port -

Done with the Compass -

Done with the Chart!

"That's our date?"

"C'mon baby! A kook's pool all to ourselves? It's the dream!" "They have a heat pump!" His eyebrows wiggled and you stared, not really sold

"No" you shook your head "no no no- jj, if we get caught we're screwed."

"Yeah but we won't."

"And how are you so sure?"

"The cameras stopped working after the storm last week and they haven't changed them yet" he spoke matter of factly "plus, there's no one taking care of the house, they're basically asking for it" you deadpanned and he smirked. 

Typical jj behavior, you thought to yourself, should've expected it.

How on earth did you fall for this reckless boy?

"Hey, be fun at least once in your life." He said, poking your side with his index finger

"Excuse me, i am fun." 

"Keep telling yourself that." He mumbled and you huffed a laugh, eyeing him up and down 

"If the cops get us-" you started saying, slowly getting closer to him "i'll throw you to the lions and run as fast as i can"

"Deal!" He exchanged his arm, a cocky grin on his face

After jumping over the gate with jj's help you waited for him to do the same, eyes traveling around the huge backyard. You've never seen a pool so big in your life. Its was probably the size of your house.

"Those kooks, man." You muttered as jj appeared beside you.

"Yeah." He said, also taking a moment to look around the whole place.

"How did you know about this?"

"I cut their grass last week" he shrugged, "heard someone talking about the security cameras not working." 

"Oh so then you decided it'd be a good idea to just… break in?"

"Yes." He said casually. 

You rolled your eyes, but followed him nonetheless as he started walking towards the pool. 

"Even the air feels different here." 

His comment made you laugh. He wasn't necessarily wrong. Everything felt different on figure eight. Didn't mean it was better, though.

"What are you doing?" You hushed when you noticed jj taking off his sweater

"What do you think im doing?" You lifted a brow quizzically "i'm not getting into the pool with my clothes on now, am i?" 

"Yeah, but it's free-"

"Freezing, i know, i know." His sweater was thrown aimlessly to the side "But the moment i turn this pretty thing on it'll be like a huge jacuzzi, baby!" 

You waited for him to do exactly that, and when the water seemed to be at a decent temperature you began to take off your shirt. However, your eyes wined when you glanced at jj and he was moments away from getting all of his clothes off.

All of it.

"Jj" you hissed "what. Are. You. Doing!?"

"I thought skinny dipping would be more romantic." He winked before finally discarding his sweatpants and underwear to the side 

Not even a second later he started running, and before jumping straight to the water he let out the loudest scream he could master.

"We're fucked." You breathed out.

Definitely the whole neighborhood heard that, and then security would get here and see you and your-not-yet-official naked boyfriend 

"Are you planning to run away from the cops with your thing dangling between your legs?" You questioned when his head finally came back to the surface

He chuckled at your comment, once again too loudly for your liking.

"I'll give them a show, princess." His hand ran through his wet hair and something inside you clicked. The urge to throw him against the pool walls and kiss him for hours being stronger than anything else "Now get in the water." 

You hesitated, but decided to go against your gut feeling, and I guess be fun for once in your life.

When your left foot touched the warm water you allowed yourself to breathe normally again, not noticing how your breath seemed shallow before. 

Slowly, you entered the pool, your underwear getting soaked in the process. You decided not to follow jj's idea for at least this one thing. You were not getting into someone else's pool naked. And you were not going to run from the cops naked either.

Rowing in Eden -

Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -

In thee!

"Get back here!"

"It was nice seeing you again, Carl!" Jj waved at the poor security guard. 

As he ran in front of you, with his pants worn inside out, and his shirt not making all its way through covering his torso, was definitely a funny site, but as much as you wanted to laugh, you also needed air to keep on running.

A scream of joy left his lips and you felt so much adrenaline running through your body. Something you only really felt with jj. I mean, he was the one always dragging you around and making you participate in his wild plans. 

"You're too slow!" He screamed, momentarily looking behind him to see you running a few meters behind. 

"I'm not used to running from the cops as much as you!" You exclaimed, extending your arm forward so he could grab onto you and take you with him.

When he caught your hand you almost fell to the ground, losing your balance, once again this night, for a short second, but your legs were quick to catch on to his speed.

You only stopped running when you reached the sand. The beach was dark at this time of night, a few lights coming from the street that weren't enough to illuminate the open space.

"That was-" you heaved, trying to speak but also catching your breath

"Amazing? Thrilling? The best night of your life?!"

"It's a way to put it, yeah." You nodded your head, mouth open still trying to even your breathing.

"Did you like it?" Jj asked after a moment of silence, speaking up once again after you gave him a questioning look "our date. Did you like it?"

"It was… something." You laughed. 

Definitely an adventure. It made you feel more alive than ever, but you wouldn't say that aloud, not wanting to give jj more motivation to take you to any more fun dates

"Something good or…" he trailed off.

You couldn’t see it, mostly because he wouldn't show it, but jj was nervous. He wanted to give you a memorable date. You've already gone out thousands of times together. Sometimes only the two of you, other times as a group with all of the pogues, but you never called it a date. Before tonight your relationship didn't have a label, and he really wanted it to have. He wanted you to be his girlfriend, and he wanted to be your boyfriend. 

So yeah, it was kind of a stressful night and maybe he went too far, but hey, you had the biggest smile on your face right now. You didn't look mad. Not one bit.

"Good." You told him finally

"Good" he repeated, feeling his muscles relax.

"But we're not doing this again."

"Yup! Definitely… not doing this again."

"Jj…" 

"What? You have my word."

"Yeah, no. Definitely not trusting that."

A/n: im so anxious rn, you guys have no idea. Anyway, did this so fast I'll probably edit it again when i wake up tomorrow oof

[the-lonelybarricade]

Down the Water Well - Feysand Oneshot

Never go near the water well. For eleven years, Feyre obeyed her mother’s command. Except now, she was standing on the edge of that barren circle, staring at the stone well at the top of the hill. The wooden signs were worn and weathered and still illegible to her. She always wondered, did the signs warn about what waited at the top? She’d never been brave enough to ask. Come, a dark voice beaconed to her. Come, Feyre. See what’s inside. See what waits for you.

A contribution to @officialrhysandweek Day 1: Lord of Nightmares

Read on AO3

-

The first time Feyre saw the water well, she was eight years old.

It wasn’t the well that she’d noticed to begin with. It was the large wooden posts staked into the ground, each boasting signs that she could not decipher. There were many of them, an equal distance apart, charting the perimeter of a large dirt hill so that those who approached on any side would be certain to see whatever was written on the signs.

She didn’t care much about what they said at the time. What caught Feyre’s attention was that the grass stopped growing beyond the posts. On one side, a green, flush carpet. On the other, dried, shriveled grass. Her eyes followed the dead zone up to the top of the hill, where a large circle of stone erected from the earth.

Feyre didn’t know what it was, but the moment she rested her eyes on those stones, she felt the air drop in temperature. It was midday, not a cloud in the sky, yet smoky darkness clung to the air around the hill. She knew, without quite knowing how, that the well was responsible for the decay around it. Like it leeched life from the surrounding earth. Fed on it.

It was eerie. Strange. Though Feyre had never been a skittish child, the sight chilled her. And yet. Yet she stepped toward it. Curious, drawn like a puppet being pulled by the strings. She wanted to know what lay on top of the hill, why it was there.

Yes, it seemed to call. Come to me. Come see.

“Feyre!”

She paused, her toe just past the perimeter of dead earth. Glancing over her shoulder, Feyre spied her mother striding toward her on furious footsteps. Feyre thought that was strange, too. Her mother rarely paid any attention to what she was up to. They were on the outskirts of the village because a seamstress lived here, in the cottage that her mother had swiftly exited. Feyre had snuck out as soon as her measurements were taken, and she’d assumed her mother would be too preoccupied with choosing designs for Nesta and Elain’s dresses to notice that her youngest daughter had snuck away.

Ordinarily, Feyre might have been delighted at the attention, if her mother’s face wasn’t twisted in rage. When she caught up to Feyre, she wasted no time with scolding. Instead, she grabbed Feyre’s arm so fiercely that her entire body jostled, and in Feyre’s shock, she bit down on her lower lip. Copper burst into her mouth a moment before tears swelled behind her eyes, and her sobbing began.

It was impossible to forget through her wailing and the unsightly blood dribbling down her chin, splattering to the dirt, the way her mother scooped her up and hissed, unsympathetic, “Never go near the water well ever again, Feyre.”

-

Never go near the water well.

For eleven years, Feyre obeyed her mother’s command.

Except now, she was standing on the edge of that barren circle, staring at the stone well at the top of the hill. The wooden signs were worn and weathered and still illegible to her. She always wondered, did the signs warn about what waited at the top of the hill? She’d never been brave enough to ask.

Come, a dark voice beaconed to her. Come, Feyre. See what’s inside. See what waits for you.

Darkness. Death. Something worse, perhaps.

Come, it repeated, more insistent. Less patient.

“No,” she said. What was she doing here?

Wind twisted her unbound hair, pulling at her nightdress like it was trying to tug her past the perimeter, away from where it was safe.

You’re hungry, it purred. Come to me, and I’ll see that you’re fed.

“No,” she repeated.

You would let your family starve?

“I know how to hunt,” she protested, tearing her eyes away from the well, towards the forest she ventured into every morning. “I don’t need you.”

Oh, but aren’t you tired, my little huntress? Tired of fighting and scraping to survive? You’ve been working so hard for so long. Let me take care of you so you can rest.

Rest. That sounded so nice. There was scarcely enough food to supplement the energy she expended on every hunt. And though she often came home worn to her bones, body so, so heavy, it was always difficult to sleep. Knowing what waited for her.

Lies. Lies, lies, lies, she chanted to herself. It wanted something from her and knew what to say to draw her in. She never liked to examine too closely how the creature knew so much about her.

She whispered, “What are you?”

Your loyal servant.

Feyre snorted.

It’s true, the midnight voice crooned. Free me, Feyre, and I am yours. Your every desire is mine to fulfill.

“Like… a wishing well?” she asked, feeling so childish to even entertain the idea. But she remembered the stories, as a child, of the water wells that would grant any wish for a coin dropped inside them. The cold stone at the top of the hill didn’t evoke the same whimsy, but she could certainly feel the power emanating from it. Pulsing, like a heartbeat. In time with her own.

There was humor in that voice as it answered, in a sense.

“What has you trapped?” That was a less intimidating question than what she truly wanted to ask—Why are you trapped?

Humans are fearful creatures. They push away things they cannot understand. But you are not like them, Feyre. You could free me. My huntress, my salvation. I’ll grant you any wish for that debt.

Don’t ask how, don’t ask how, don’t ask—” How?”

The darkness rumbled as if pleased by her question. Come to me. I will show you.

It wasn’t a far distance up the hill. Ten strides at most. How deep was the well, she wondered? If she fell in, would she ever come out? For years, she had nightmares about tumbling inside, falling down, down, down into an abyss of darkness.

“No,” she said, shaking her head and stumbling back from the perimeter. “No, no, no, no—”

The ground beneath her began to shake, and dirt and stone started to ripple. Feyre screamed so loud that she could again taste the copper in her mouth from years ago, when she’d bitten her lip and bled onto the earth, and her body began shaking, shaking—

“Feyre!”

She blinked, opening her eyes to find Nesta’s snarling face leaning over her in their shared bed. Elain was hovering, too, her pretty face pinched with concern as Feyre shook off their touch and pressed a hand to her head. It felt as if something had coiled around her mind and squeezed, leaving a blistering migraine in its wake. A usual remnant of her nightmares.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You were screaming—”

“I’m fine.”

The words were as cool and icy as the stone atop the hill. Nesta and Elain didn’t say anything, only shared a glance with each other. Feyre couldn’t stand the words they were exchanging, passing their judgment without saying anything at all. With a huff, she pushed out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Nesta asked as Feyre began shoving on her hunting clothes.

“Where do you think?”

Feyre hadn’t caught anything in the woods yesterday. Somehow, the creature in the well had known that, known that she was more desperate than usual. Maybe her mind was weak from the hunger.

“I’ll be back by sundown,” she said, grabbing her bow and slinging her quiver of arrows over her shoulder. She didn’t wait to hear if Nesta or Elain responded before she darted out of the rickety door of their decrepit cottage.

Feyre glanced down the path to the woods, the same trek she made every morning, now laid with a fresh layer of snow that had settled in the night. If she was wise, she would venture down the familiar path and check if her snares had managed to catch anything. But there was another path. One she never allowed herself to glance towards.

But some residual talon of the nightmare must have still been hooked in her mind, because she found her neck turning. And then she was staring down that path, the one which led to the outskirts of the village, where the water well would be waiting for her atop a lifeless hill.

Come to me, Feyre, she heard it call. The voice of her nightmares. So disarmingly sweet, gentle. Lulling. That’s it, the voice purred as she took a step, then another. Such a good girl for me.

She continued walking until she passed the seamstress’s cottage, her footsteps swallowed by the silent, killing snow. It was winter. The animals in the forest had treaded past where she was willing to follow. She was desperate. Desperate enough to look, though she promised herself she would not do anything more.

Her mother had made her promise to never come back here. But her mother was dead, and their family was starving, and that voice was calling to her. Chanting, Feyre, Feyre, Feyre. How bad would it be if she looked? What could possibly be waiting for her that was worse than the winter woods?

Feyre paused outside of the circle, squinting at the signs like she might finally be able to make sense of them. B… Be… war…

Come closer, Feyre darling.

There was no use trying to read them. If her mother was truly determined not to forbid her from walking past the signs, she would have taught her how to decipher them.

Feyre took a deep breath that condensed in the winter air, blending with the clouds hanging low around the hill. Drawing her bow, she notched an arrow and drew the string taut. Then, she took her first step past the circle. Even the wind died.

Despite the snowfall in the night, not a single flake had fallen to the dirt at her feet. It was dry, utterly devoid of life, apart from the energy humming through the earth, crackling in the air. Feyre was reminded of standing outside in a thunderstorm, the way every single hair on her body stood at attention.

Feyre, the voice sang, louder now.

The hill was steep enough that she felt breathless by the time she ascended its peak, and her heart was thundering, though she suspected that had less to do with exertion. The well looked ordinary enough—a large circle layered in stones and flattened at the top. It was boarded up beneath slates of iron held down by four large rocks. Maybe she could kill whatever was down there, and the nightmares would finally stop.

Each of the stones was heavy. She pushed them, unable to lift, and gasped as they tumbled to the ground with large thuds, kicking up small clouds of dirt. Whatever lived in the well, it would certainly know she was here, though the voice had gone mysteriously silent. Like it was holding its breath. Waiting.

When she’d managed to push the last of the stones to the floor, Feyre pushed the iron slates just enough to create a small opening. She winced at the scrape of rusted metal and more so at the pitch-black darkness she uncovered. Heart leaping in her throat, Feyre pushed the metal a little bit further, hoping to let more light in.

She gasped as a pair of violet eyes met hers, and a white-toothed smile flashed through the thick shadows.

“There you are, Feyre darling,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

[dilf-din]

Tethered (to The Story We Must Tell)

For @therebelcaptainnetwork Secret Santa

WC: 3400

A/N: Merry Rebelcaptain-mas @mistressorinoco !! I hope you like this glimpse into a magical world with everyone’s favorite tragic heroes!

It was a quiet life Jyn had made for herself, tucked into the whispering woods, far from the irksome hustle and bustle of the nearby village. Nothing greeted her in the morning except for the sun and the birds as she floated to the well to draw her water each day. No other beings disturbed her as she foraged in the afternoon, finding herbs to dry on her windowsill, save the rabbits and squirrels whose noses would twitch in a secret language she had come to understand over the years. They were all she had to talk to after the loss of her parents left her achingly alone in the world, with not much else to do than listen to the Earth as She groaned. None of the townspeople would come within twenty feet of her on the days she had to venture in for the supplies she could not grow on her own. It was just her and the forest, and she liked it that way.

The truth was, nobody liked witches. But she had always thought that maybe they just didn’t understand them. Her father was one of the most powerful warlocks of their time. Jyn had spent every second she could in his presence, soaking up his knowledge. She would peek over the bannister at night as he communed with other powerful men of the great age, straining her ears to pick up bits and pieces of their hushed conversations. Galen Erso was well regarded across the realm for his deep rooted wisdom and power. With him gone, she knew she had to carry out his legacy. Mix balms and potions to heal the sick, care for the spirit of the wood, bless the grounds to yield plentiful crops.

For months now, she had been so busy preparing for autumn that she almost forgot about the prophecy, the legacy of the Erso family that her father had told her of long ago. One day, their magic would save the entire kingdom. One day a man would show up on her doorstep and beg her for help. She just didn’t expect that day to be today.

Her focus was on the pot in front of her, simmering over the fire. A rich, earthen smell filled every corner of the room, breathing life into the old beams. Jyn’s nimble hands were carefully dosing out dried petals and crushed up stems to add to the bubbling mixture when her cat started to weave itself through her legs, getting tangled in her skirts, and mewling loudly.

“Alright, alright. One second,” she sounded annoyed, but when she lifted her eyes, a light caught her eye from the other side of the room.

She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and rushed to the old crystal ball that stayed perched on its ornately carved base in the main room. Deep red rubies decorated the solid gold pillar showing long forgotten constellations charted out by the witches of old. The very center showed the phases of the moon carved out in opal, an homage to their guiding light. Jyn had used the ball from time to time when she was in search of a hard to find root as her father had taught her— and she certainly didn’t use it to get tangled up in the affairs of men, so this would be the first time it had shown her something unprompted.

Jyn watched the orb in front of her with an amused smile twitching at her lips. Deep smooth glass revealed hazy images of a dark haired man scrambling over roots and briars, falling several times in quick succession only to get up and keep going. He looked panicked, but determined. Competent but a wild card. He was following the path that was marked out for him long ago, he just didn’t know it yet. Outside her cabin, a strong wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves loudly, signaling the man’s impending approach. Chills danced up her own arms in anticipation, and beside her on the table, an inky black cat hopped up to stare into the ball with deep green eyes mirroring Jyn’s own.

“So it begins, Pollux.”

——

Pounding. His head was pounding in sync with his steps. Each heavy footfall echoed through his body and made his head ring. For a moment, Cassian was afraid he would pass out. He didn’t have time for that though. Lord Vader’s ghouls were on his tail. Cassian was zigging and zagging through the trees, trying his best to shake the ghastly figures. Occasionally, he would hear their groans and see a flash of white, and it was like a fresh wave of adrenaline in his veins to keep going.

They weren’t dangerous from a distance. In fact, they were a lousy shot. But he didn’t want to know what would happen if he got within arm’s reach of them. Long slender fingers jutted out of the tattered sleeves of stark white robes. They were a gruesome mix of bone and metal, the result of a dark magic no sensible person would ever tamper with.

Cassian saw a clearing ahead and pushed into one final sprint. The ghouls came from several directions at once, screeching and wailing as he stumbled out of the tree line, tripping over one last root. He rolled to his back to accept his fate, having spent every drop of strength to make it this far. Cassian clamped his eyes shut and waited, but was surprised after a few moments that nothing happened. He tentatively peeked to see the crowd of ghostly figures pounding against an invisible wall that he happened to be on the other side of. His head swiveled to see an entire circle of pale blue light that sparked bright cerulean as they beat their eldritch fists against it, their distorted voices muffled by the barrier.

They were deterred almost instantly, fading back into the tree line while Cassian took the time to catch his breath. He had been chased for several kilometers and feared that his lungs would always feel that stab of fire when he breathed too deeply.

Having been given time for his thoughts to settle, he frantically patted his body until he felt the familiar lump in his pocket and gave another sigh of relief. With everything on his person intact and accounted for, he really started to take in his surroundings. He had landed next to a short stone well when he fell. Any farther, and he probably would’ve busted his head against the jagged base. And what the heck was that blue thing that stopped the ghoul troopers? He furrowed his brow and scrambled to his feet, slowly approaching the edge of the property. Cassian stuck a tentative hand out and was met with nothing but the chilled fall air. No pushback, no wall of energy, just a light peaceful breeze.

The cottage behind him stood humbly, weathered boards and a shingled roof not even cresting the nearby treetops. Vines of deep green ivy climbed two trellises on each wall, mirroring each other. Tendrils of heart shaped leaves spilled over the awning covering the door like a tuft of bangs, making the house seem almost human. The wide mouth of the door was stained a deep brown and hung on brass hinges so tarnished they were a dull, ashen color. The back of the house was almost flush with the treeline, leaves and branches seemed to hold on to it tightly, as if it belonged there. It was perfectly nestled in the wild of things, set apart from the rest of the kingdom.

A gust of wind brought a cocktail of new smells to his nose. Sweet things, earthen things, ancient things. Cassian took a deep breath. Something about the energy there felt like a lightning bolt through his bones, addicting, unfamiliar, and yet, like coming home, a feeling he had searched for his whole life. Along his arms, the hairs stood on end with anticipation as he approached the door, a hesitant knuckle reaching out to knock.

He gave three sharp raps and waited. Though there was no peephole, he couldn’t shake the feeling of having eyes on him, almost as if the trees had their guard up, ready to strike should he try anything with whoever stood on the other side of the door.

An eternity passed in the seconds he waited to hear the click of the lock, followed by the muffled sound of several chains and latches, before it finally swung open to reveal a girl. She came up to about his shoulder with green eyes wilder than the forest engulfing them. She had layers of lace and other thin fabrics covering her. Each piece turned into long, flowing sleeves or skirts of a different length cinched with a belt and a leather vest atop of stockings and knee high boots. Almost every finger and knuckle was adorned in silver rings of varying thicknesses, and on her neck sat a collection of necklaces on chains of different lengths, but the one that caught his eye, was a pale white crystal hanging low on her torso. It was shaped like a tear drop.

“Hello, Cassian Andor. I have long awaited your arrival,” she spoke with an almost sultry voice and a sly smile.

Suddenly, his mouth was dry and his palms were wet. Cassian was worried that if he spoke, it wouldn’t come out as more than a squeak. How did she know his name? What did she mean she had been waiting for him?

Thankfully, she ushered him inside before he found the nerve to speak. He took a second to take in the large open space they now stood in while she re-fastened all of the latches. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves holding all sorts of odds and ends. Stacks of books, magnifying glasses and other gadgets, jars that held what he hoped were animal bones, more books, candles, and all sorts of loose papers. From the age of the cottage and the wear of the leather spines closest to him, he guessed it did not all belong to her. The living area was connected to the open kitchen with a staircase and small storage room at the back of the building. A wide window over the sink shed hazy light on bundles of herbs and flowers carefully wrapped and hung to dry in the sun. Every wall was wood, save for the back one adjacent to the sink that housed the large stone hearth currently holding a large pot over lazy orange flames.

Cassian recognized it as the same smell from outside, and wondered what it was that she was making. A black cat appeared seemingly out of nowhere and rubbed his leg, purring loudly.

“I’m sure you must have a million questions,” Jyn continued, turning to face him after drawing the curtains in the den, “And it is my goal to have a million answers. Shall we begin? My name is Jyn. Jyn Erso.”

Cassian was intrigued by her eccentricity. Even now, she was continuing over to the hearth to tend to the pot on the fire as if his coming there had interrupted her daily routine.

He watched her move with precision and intent. She never hesitated, never second guessed herself. She was everything he wasn’t, and he began to feel quite small.

“What brought you to me?” she asked over her shoulder.

Cassian took a few steps forward, being careful to not trip over the very affectionate cat that was now glued to his side.

He tried to collect his thoughts in a coherent way, knowing he needed to do his best to make his story a believable one. He prayed she would have pity on his urgency and point him in the right direction.

“I work for the king. Well, not exactly. I just work in the stable. But the king, see, he’s sick, so his council sent me to find a sorcerer. They said there was a man in the woods who could heal him. Do you know who they’re talking about?”

Jyn smiled at the floor, a sad smile full of longing, and turned to face Cassian, “They sent you in search of my father.”

“Is he here?”

“He died last winter.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” his voice came out thick with sincerity. He barely knew this girl but he could see how deeply the loss had struck her. Cassian hesitated before asking, “Do you think you could help us?”

“Of course,” she almost scoffed, “He taught me everything he knew. Well, close to everything. Anything he didn’t have time to is written down in one of these journals,” she gestured to the walls lined with books. “I’ve read them all cover to cover. Tell me what troubles your king.”

Cassian leaned against the kitchen counter, and the cat hopped up beside him, “He’s being poisoned by Lord Vader. He’s been deteriorating, wasting away. He fell ill a fortnight ago, but none of our best doctors have been able to cure him. We don’t think he has much time left. It’s like Vader is draining the life out of him somehow. His name is the only world he’s spoken in days.”

Jyn listened intently as Cassian spoke of the king’s mind and body slipping away from him. The table of her mind had journals and papers spread out as she combed through her archives to figure out what kind of enchantment he might be under. She could feel the warmth of her father’s hands on her shoulders, and for a second, she almost reached out to grab one.

“And they gave me this,” Cassian paused to fish something out of his pocket, offering a white teardrop shaped crystal identical to the one around Jyn’s neck, “They said it would lead me here, and it did. I’m not sure how to explain it. Its like I could hear it—“

“Talking to you,” Jyn finished with a smile on her lips. Her arms wound around her own neck and she undid the clasp to the necklace with ease. She plucked the other half from Cassian’s hand and held the two pieces together. They fit seamlessly and began emitting a pale blue glow, as it being one again filled the stone with some sort of power.

“The Kyber heart has been passed through my family for generations. This half belonged to my mother. She gifted it to the king many years ago as a blessing of protection. His taking it off is what led to his mind being poisoned. The two halves long to be together. Though they may separate for a time, they will always come back as one,” she finished softly, this time looking deeply into Cassian’s dark eyes.

“The other half belonged to your father,” he said gently, not breaking the gaze, and Jyn nodded.

“Keep it,” he smiled, reaching his hand forward to close her fist around it, but she shook her head.

“It’s yours now. It chooses its master. Some people are said to be born with Kyber in their own hearts. The stones are drawn to certain auras. They particularly like those who possess great courage within their hearts,” she explained as she reached around his neck to fasten the necklace.

A heavy weight settled in his chest, something akin to honor. The moment was quickly broken by the cat yowling loudly in Jyn’s direction.

“I know,” she said to the small creature as she smiled and leaned down for it to head butt her, “This is Castor. He was my mother’s cat. It seems he approves of you as well. She died when I was very young. I don’t see him come out often.”

Cassian smiled and reached out a hand for him to sniff while another cat hopped up beside Jyn. Sleek and black, identical to Castor.

“This is Pollux. He belonged to my father.”

Identical crystals. Identical cats. All this talk of fate had Cassian questioning his role in this story. If what she was saying was true, the gravity of this place was always going to find him. He would always find himself back in Jyn’s orbit. He so desperately wanted that to be true.

Against all odds and presumptions, Cassian began to feel at home, in these walls breathing the same air as her. He tried to shove it down, but it was like a geyser erupting in his stomach, a warm feeling spreading through his limbs. He had never believed in fate, but she spoke as if the cosmos were pulling the strings to his life and led him here, and it had never sounded more convincing.

He couldn’t let himself get caught up in this, not yet.

“Now what?” he asked, “I don’t mean to sound in a hurry, but I’m afraid the King hasn’t got much time.”

“Now, we search for the spell to break the enchantment,” she crossed the room to a stack of journals and plucked them from the shelf, “Luckily for you, I remember reading about this very thing recently. Tell me, Cassian Andor, is this a coincidence as well?” she spoke as if she could read his rambling thoughts and a flush crept into his cheeks.

Her lips held a knowing smile as she cracked open the journal on top, an aged leather with thick gold threading around the border.

“What we’re looking for is called ruptor vitis, more commonly known as a weed killer,” she explained as she began to thumb through pages, handing Cassian the next journal in the stack to aid in the search.

Pages turning, fire crackling, cats purring. Their eyes and hands worked quickly to find the information they needed. It was a race against time. The old grandfather clack across the room ticked ominously as they searched.

Cassian saw recipes for healing potions, hexes for confusion, spells for protection. A quick scan of that particular page confirmed that was what he encountered when he stumbled onto the property. They were designed to keep out everyone but the pure of heart. Another odd tug in his chest as he continued to cautiously approach the idea that he might be more than a lowly stable boy. The gem around his neck chose him. Castor chose him. The king’s court chose him to be the messenger.

All his life he had been nameless. All his life he had been alone. Now he was standing in a warm cabin a mere two feet from someone who looked at him like he was worth something. She said his name with confidence. She listened intently as he spoke, taking in every detail, every stumble, every hesitation in his breathing. His apprehension had been palpable, but he could feel it melting away.

A few more flips, and he saw himself staring at the words Ruptor Vitis in thick, neat writing.

“Jyn,” he called, drawing her attention to the aging book in front of him.

She scanned it with careful eyes, her lips parting almost imperceptibly as she read each line to herself. With a nod, she closed the journal and tucked it under her arm. She snapped her fingers, and the fire in the hearth snuffed out, a wispy trail of smoke drifted into the open room while she grabbed her cloak from a hook by the door.

“We’ll need to pick up a few things in town, but I know how to make it work,” she explained, tucking the book into a basket along with a few candles.

Cassian stood frozen, not knowing what to do next.

“Are you ready?” she reached out to give his hand a squeeze, and he felt that aforementioned courage flood into his veins. Suddenly it all became crystal clear.

He nodded.

“Lead the way,” she smiled.

And something in him must have changed, because when Cassian pushed the door open with no hesitation to trek back out into the forest, and the kyber around his neck hummed a melody outside of time, he didn’t stop to question why a powerful enchantress like Jyn would defer to someone like him.

[mangokabuto]

Just for fun I mapped the strawhats onto Brian David Gilbert's "Mortal Comfort" Ideal Cuddler Chart. I don't think i have them 100% right but i wanted to start the Discussion yk?

Here is my reasoning (sorta-ranked from most to least ideal according to BDG's criteria, though your personal preference may differ (as does mine)) :

MOST IDEAL STRAWHAT CUDDLER AWARD goes to Jinbe! He is big and soft and kind. I think he would be very good at it. He would take initiative to rub your back and have pleasant conversation, but he let you fall asleep if you wanted to.

Nami: Not a super adventurous cuddler, nor does she do it often. She WILL pickpocket you, so be ready for that. She's probably the closest to normal you're going to get.

Usopp: He needs to fidget with his hands and is happy to comb your hair or rub your back or massage your shoulders, but he's going to talk your ear off whether you like it or not, and he'll whine if you try to leave. Extremely clingy and needy in a cuddle, and his pockets are full of little gadgets and tools that are not super comfortable to lay against.

Luffy: Very enthusiastic but he will not sit still long enough, man is constantly adjusting or twitching. He's prone to squeeze too tight with the wrap-around rubber hugs, and if you aren't paying close attention he WILL put bugs and beetles on you. He's also the type to think it's funny to wipe boogers on you, or put his cold hands up your shirt. If your arm or leg fall asleep he's not gonna move for you, he's gonna think it's funny.

Chopper: He hasn't had enough practice yet, he mostly just wants to be held. Very enthusiastic though. Constantly making sure you're comfortable, to the point where it's distracting/a little annoying.

Brook: Bones are not extremely comfortable, but he is able to summon a cool/chilling wind so the temperature control will be ideal, and he's very polite and gentlemanly when he's not trying to see your underwear. As long as you stack some pillows around him to actually lean against, you're golden.

Robin: She will be up to some freak shit with her devil fruit I know it. Being cuddled by a dozen hands may sound very nice but she will turn them against you, either to tickle you right when you're falling asleep or grab your ankle and let you think it was a monster under the bed. She WILL be up to mischief.

Sanji: Also constantly making sure you're comfortable, much more than necessary, and will dote on you WAY too much while you're trying to sleep. He'll keep getting up to grab water or a snack or another blanket or something and won't just settle into the cuddle unless you make him. Also he is likely to either catch on fire or start violently bleeding from his nose depending on the circumstances.

Zoro: Very open to the idea of cuddling but not an active participant; he just falls asleep. He is essentially a very hard body pillow. (If he WAS actively participating he may match where Robin or Luffy is instead.)

Franky: Not a single part of his body is comfortable or free of hidden guns, but he will damn sure try his best!! He will also try and hold conversation and compliment you, but much too loudly. The enthusiasm is there, but...man he's struggling everywhere else.

[astroa3h]

Travis Barker & Shanna Moakler: Their Destructive 22 Degree Composite Saturn ❤️‍🔥

Travis Barker and Shanna Moakler have one of the most toxic and aggresive Composite Charts I’ve ever seen, just looking at their Saturn placement sends me into a silent rage. Saturn can be a difficult planet, ruling restrictions and limitations and where we need to be responsible, so this placement in the composite chart can show areas of difficulty in the relationship. And let’s get real these two weren’t short on difficult moments.

Cancer Saturn in the 1st House @ 22 Degrees 

Conjunct Cancer Venus & Ascendant, Square 10th House Aries Mars

With Saturn in the 1st house and in the sign of Cancer, and especially at twenty two degrees, a Capricorn and destructive degree. We're not just talking about a challenge; we're looking at a relationship under siege. Saturn here is in detriment, meaning it feels like a relentless storm, bringing cold, harsh winds to what should be the warm, nurturing environment of Cancer. This placement doesn't just whisper about difficulties; it shouts about emotional blockades, creating a chilling atmosphere where insecurities fester and emotional connections freeze over. It's the kind of setting where vulnerabilities aren't gently tended to but rather are left out in the cold, leading to a buildup of resentment and detachment.

Twenty Two degrees symbolizes a deep, transformative pressure that's meant to push individuals (or relationships, in this case) to evolve, but not gently. It's like being in the pressure cooker of personal growth – it's hot, it's uncomfortable, but it's where you're forced to shed what's not serving you. In terms of a romantic relationship? Twenty Two Degrees is not great. It can indicate DIVORCE.

The conjunction of Saturn with Venus and the Ascendant pours salt on these wounds. Venus, when embraced by Saturn, finds its expressions of love and affection restrained, as if love had to pass a rigorous test to prove its worth. Instead of love being a source of comfort, it becomes a battleground, where every gesture of affection is weighed and measured for its sincerity. The Ascendant's involvement makes this struggle VERY visible, not just felt. 

The square from Saturn to Aries Mars in their tenth house throws fuel on the fire, igniting conflicts between personal desires and professional ambitions. Mars, the planet of action and conflict, is already fiery, and in the 10th house, it pushes for recognition, success, and achievement. But with Saturn squaring off, it's like every step forward in their careers or public lives demanded a sacrifice at the altar of their personal lives. The tension between wanting to achieve and the need to connect and nurture their relationship created an almost impossible situation. Instead of supporting each other's ambitions, their successes became another source of competition and conflict, eroding the foundations of their partnership.

This toxic mix of emotional coldness, love under scrutiny, and conflicting ambitions painted their relationship not as a sanctuary but as a battleground. Every attempt at connection was overshadowed by the looming specter of Saturn, ensuring that instead of growing closer, they were driven further apart. Their story, marked by these astrological challenges, serves as a cautionary tale about the importance of warmth, open communication, and mutual support.

xox astro ash ✨ Get your own Composite Reading @ astroash.net TikTok - astroa3h

[needfantasticstories]

Here Now (4954 words) by SkipBreaker

Art by @hiimgin. Beta reading by @hotcheetohatredwastaken. Additional info at the bottom.

Summary: Sky, Twilight, and Hyrule go on patrol, and grapple with Hyrule's past.

HERE NOW

 

Part 1: CAMP

Logs crackled pleasantly in the fire pit Hyrule and Legend had built.

Hyrule sat on the end of his bedroll and stared at the orange flames that kept the chill evening air at bay. Fire was a luxury back home, but common while traveling with the eight other heroes.

They’d come through a portal to a new era at midday. Not mine , he’d realized with relief. The grass was too green, and the sky too clear. None of the others recognized it either.

With no sign of black-blooded monsters, or nearby settlements, Wild had insisted they camp and restock on elixirs for the coming fights.

The sun glowed a white-gold as it settled into a shroud of clouds above the horizon. Time stopped searching the trees and settled into cleaning his armor. Sky sat on the opposite side of the fire and began tuning his harp. Wind dragged Four to sit with him, complaining about his dull knife. Twilight and Warrior joined Wild by the fire to chat. 

The trees slowly darkened into silhouettes, narrowing the world down to the glow of their campfire.  

Legend huffed as he sat and leaned heavily on Hyrule and pulled out a ripped tunic and a small, fabric lined box of needles and threads. 

“Hey, I’m not your furniture,” Hyrule protested.

“Fine. I’ll keep my Roc cloak for myself tonight,” Legend replied coolly.

“Oh fine, go on then. Ravio has been rubbing off on you.” Hyrule laughed and braced his legs to his chest to support Legend’s weight. With a smile, he continued to watch the fire and his brothers. 

Savory aromas of beef and herbs filled the clearing as Wild stood by the fire, working his subtle magic that, despite Hyrule’s assurance, he firmly insisted wasn’t magic at all.   

The sky grew pink and purple as the sun dropped below the hills. The shing , shing of Four guiding Wind through how to sharpen his knife made a steady, musical rhythm to Sky’s soft harp strums. Twilight and Wild bantered as the cook served bowls for Warrior to pass around. 

Wind held up his blade and tested the edge with a bit of rope. It cut the strands cleanly. “I can work so much faster with this! Can I take you home with me, Smithy?” 

Four smiled proudly. “You can pay me back with a copy of your star charts sometime.” 

Wind let his hands fall to his lap, and frowned. “Do you ever think about what will happen with us after all this? After we stop Shadow?” 

The camp grew quiet. 

Sky broke the silence, gazing fondly at his harp. “I imagine we’ll find our way back to our own times. At least, I hope so.” 

“Same, though I think Wild might try to rope me into his world if I let him,” Twilight laughed and clapped Wild on the back.

“I’d miss your old muzzle too much to leave you alone,” Wild snorted in answer. “I suspect you’ll find a way back to my world someday, one way or another.”

“I hadn’t thought it possible we could stay long in each other’s worlds. What about you, Legend? What are your plans?” Hyrule asked. It would have been a miracle if the Hero of Legend could visit him in his own time, somehow. If only his time wasn’t still suffering from famine and the lingering armies of Ganon hunting him to resurrect the king of evil. But even Wild’s era had a few pools of Malice here and there, right? Still, it was healthy. Who would ever want to come to his era? It was a death wish.

“Well, as much as I love roughing it with you lot in the mud and rain, I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed, in my own home. In peace.”

A cold breeze found its way through the trees and coursed up Hyrule’s spine. He stared at the fire in thought while Legend continued to gush about his orchard. 

“What about you, Traveler? What do you look forward to when this is over?” Four asked, digging into the soup Warrior was passing out.

Hyrule mulled over their various homes. Time had a ranch with Malon. Sky had his floating village, Wind had Outset Island. Twilight longed for Ordon, Four his forge, Warrior his fiancee and her castle. Even Wild had purchased a house, though he admitted he barely used it. 

Hyrule missed the castle, but he couldn’t go back until the monster stopped hunting him. His cave? Perhaps, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. Not like this. This was home. Among friends, traveling the world, helping protect people and discovering more about fighting and magic and history than he could ever have dreamed. He’d seen islands floating in the sky! Forests more full of fairies than trees! With Wild’s Zora armor, he’d even swam up a waterfall, and used his glider to soar back down to earth! He’d never be able to do that in the polluted rivers back home! And snow! Twilight still held the record for shield surfing, but he was catching up. 

Hylia, the goddess he’d never known existed before this journey, had truly blessed him with a refuge from the storm of his homeland. 

“Traveler?” 

“I don’t know. I suppose… I’m already happy.”

“Aw!” Warrior set Hyrule’s soup down and plopped beside him. He put an arm around him and rubbed his hair roughly with his other hand. “This kid! I’m actually gonna miss you. Not like that one.” He pointed to Legend. 

“Tch, that’s a lie,” Hyrule scoffed and shoved Warrior away with his shoulder. The Captain fell sideways but held onto Hyrule, pulling them both down. 

“Watch it, Wars!” Legend yelled. 

Hyrule tried to pull free of the Captain’s arm, but the knight held fast. Hyrule put all his might behind it, his arms burning from the strain, and by inches he loosened the Captain’s grip. 

“You’re getting stronger, but not there yet!” The Captain groaned.

“I nearly stabbed my thumb, thank you very much!” Legend yelled at Warrior. 

“Hey now! Hyrule’s the one who shoved!” 

“He was defending my honor, so it’s your fault.”

Hyrule and Warrior both broke into laughter—Hyrule in proud victory and Warrior in admitted defeat—and the Captain finally let go and collapsed on the ground. 

Hyrule offered his hand. 

The Captain grabbed it and tried to pull him down, but Hyrule was ready and hauled him upward. 

“Fine, Collector, keep your blindspot. Thanks, Rulie. Here’s dinner.” Warriors passed them their bowls, which had mercifully survived the scuffle. 

Hyrule savored the stew, letting steam warm his face before taking a bite of the creamy, savory broth. He looked around as he ate, and watched the others quickly finishing their own meals.

Let these days last, he thought. He knew it was selfish. It would have to end, as everything did. But he didn’t want to imagine a future without them in it anymore than a future living on the run, without Dawn and Aurora. He knew, logically, that they would all part someday. 

But not today. 

He watched as Wild set aside the cooking pot and pulled out an older exclusively for making elixirs. Hyrule turned away and instead watched Legend resume his careful, methodical stitching; but the Champion lingered in his thoughts. He didn’t like knowing where the Champion’s elixirs came from. He pitied the beetles, butterflies and lizards, and the monster parts smelled awful. Then again, at least Wild found a way to channel the evil remnants of Ganon’s power into something useful. How strange. How was it possible? Could Dawn, proficient as she was with magic and rebirth, find a way to change the poison in their land into a blessing, somehow? What sort of ingredients like the beetles and butterflies would it require— He stopped the thought dead; he didn’t like where it was going at all, and he focused instead on Legend’s stitching while the spike in his heartbeat settled. 

Time broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them after dinner. “We should scout one more time before settling in for the night. Sky, Twilight, Hyrule, it’s your turn to run a perimeter check.”

With a hum of grumbled complaints about being half-asleep already, the trio yawned, and stretched.

Time clapped Twilight’s shoulder as he left, then Sky’s, nodding in unspoken but clear appreciation to both.

“We can work on your footwork for the landing before breakfast, if you’re up for it, Hyrule,” Time whispered to him at his turn. Hyrule smiled and nodded, then hurried to follow after Sky and Twilight into the woods. 

None of them saw the storm until sheets of rain descended.

 

Part 2: SHELTER

Hyrule braced his shield over his head. A torrent of rain driven by a wall of wind pelted Hyrule and Sky. Drops struck like tiny arrows, stinging Hyrule’s legs through his trousers. They clung to the steep hillside that exposed them to the storm, inching back the way they’d come. Before the rains veiled the land, the campfire was easy to see, but in the gale Hyrule had lost his sense of direction. Several trees above them thrashed and groaned, threatening to break and roll down over them.  

“I still can’t find the trail!” Twilight shouted over the storm.  

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Sky looked around, his hair plastered to his face where it stuck out from under his sailcloth.

Hyrule looked around too, and in a flash of lightning, he found what he needed. 

“There’s a gap in the rocks up there! Let’s go there until the storm passes!” Hyrule yelled over the rumble of thunder.

The gap in the steep hillside turned out to be a deep cave. While the gently rising path blocked wind and rain, they radiated the cold back to them, and the three shivered as they explored the length of the narrow room. Twilight led the way in with his lantern. 

The stone entrance slammed shut behind them.

“It’s a dungeon,” Twilight pointed out the obvious. 

Sky let out a long-suffering sigh, pulled out a torch, and once alight he raised it high.  

The cave opened into a massive hall lined with brick. Triangle symbols adorned the upper reaches in a band of simple geometric patterns. Only the back wall remained in a more natural state, save for the massive relief carving. 

Stone steps led up to a dais before the rock wall where stood a massive stone beast that seemed trapped in the rock, leaning forward in an effort to free itself. It sat on a cracked throne three time’s Hyrule’s height with a door hiding in the shadows between its feet. 

Roughly cut features, gouges still evident from the tools used to carve it, cast dancing shadows all over its bulbous, misshapen body. Two massive tusks jutted from the wall, possibly added later. One had broken off and its shattered remains littered the dais. The wide face had a grotesque, triangular nose and gaping holes for eyes. The movement of Twilight’s lamp made the eyes seem to shift back and forth between them. 

It wasn’t just the statue that made Hyrule panic.

Seeing the rough boar carving in this unfamiliar dungeon, a massive homage to beast Ganon. 

What lay before him, at its feet, chilled his blood.

Sky and Twilight stopped on either side of him.

“What in the clouds is that?” Sky asked, moving closer to the enormous carving. 

“Remember how we all faced a being named Ganon? That’s him.” Twilight spat at the statue’s feet. 

Sky frowned at the hideous thing,running his hand along one carved leg. He sneered at the jagged, artless edges. The statue barely resembles the beast, but somehow captured all of his malevolence.

“Hyrule, are you okay?”

Not really, he thought, but he dared not say it. They had a dungeon to escape.

“I’m fine.” He forced himself to borrow a smile and look forward to the dark hallway under the beast’s legs. He refused to think about the bowl-shaped altar at its feet, or how the groove from the center to the edge would pour any liquid inside out of the bowl. 

Into the waiting ashes of Ganon.

He pushed onward. This wasn’t his era. It couldn’t be. Too green, too clean, too clear-skied.

Sky moved ahead of him, taking the lead as his torch burned brighter than Twilight’s lantern. Soon, he stopped. 

“I see two doors ahead, left, right, and forward. Any guesses on where to start?”

“Left,” Twilight and Hyrule said.

“I was going to say right. I guess I’m outvoted.” Sky shrugged.

 

Part 3: LEFT

It took all of Hyrule’s Thunder spell, or “Hyrule’s Fury” as Wild insisted on calling it, to clear the horde of skeleton soldiers that rose over and over from the floor in the left room. By the time Twilight revealed the hidden wizzrobe with his ghost lantern and Sky blasted it with a skyward strike, the trio had used up most of their supplies.

“There’s a chest!” Hyrule called out, and ran to the back of the room.

The lid creaked open, and after brushing aside cobwebs he found a large iron key.

“Looks like we might have a way out.”

“Door on the right?” Sky asked, with a mocking grin, hands on his hips.

“Door on the right,” Twilight said with a sigh, marched ahead. 

Hyrule hurried to follow after the taller hero. 

Part 4: RIGHT

Twilight pushed open the other door and led the way inside. 

Unlike the brick walls of the earlier rooms, this one remained untamed. Stalactites and stalagmites reached for one another, and the largest ones had joined into eight massive pillars around the room. Luminous crystals, like the stones Wild had shown them, lit the ceiling and walls in a cold, eerie glow. Water dripped from the spiked ceiling.

In the shadows at the far end of the room, between pillars of stalagmites, a monster stirred. 

Hyrule gasped in surprise. He knew this beast! 

In the dim crystal light, Hyrule could see the blue lynel pace, turn, and stare them down. 

Black eyes glittered as it studied them. It cantered closer. The lion-face glowered and bared its knife-sharp teeth. Its human-like chest raised up a massive longsword in both hands. Iron-shod hooves stomped, reverberating through the stone floor.  

Then it looked directly at Hyrule, and its eyes narrowed. The grimace flipped into a feral grin.

“Sacrifice!” it roared.

Hyrule gripped his sword and stepped forward. He wouldn’t let his brothers suffer for his curse. He could handle a lynel. He just had to keep it from burning them all, and himself from bleeding, or else—

Sky held up his blade. “What under heaven is it?”

Hyrule pulled out his magic shield. “Go back to the entrance. Both of you need to bomb that statue into rubble,” he ordered. “I can deal with him.”

“Alone?” Twilight asked incredulously. 

“I killed dozens of them before Wind’s age.”

“No. It’s too dangerous for any of us to go alone. We stay together,” Twilight barked. 

“Fine! Shields up! It breathes fire.”

“At least we’ll finally dry off , ” Sky grumbled, adjusting his shield. 

They prepared just in time. The lynel stopped his approach and roared, blasting fire at them.

Hyrule blocked it with his shield, and the fire quickly faded. Twice more it hurled the flames with the same result. 

Roaring with fury, the lynel charged, galloping louder than a thunderstorm. 

Hrulle’s world shrank down to the fury in the lynel’s eyes. His friends could not suffer from his monsters. He would not let his horrors become theirs, nor would he let it take them away from him.

Hyrule yelled at the monster, and ran. 

The lynel turned away from the other two heroes, nearly tripping over its own legs to chase him. 

Hyrule dodged between dripping pillars, twisting and weaving through the narrowest gaps he could find, the beast on his tail. He led it to a far corner of the deep cavern. He turned with his shield high, planted his feet, raised his sword, and braced himself for the impact. 

It grinned as it charged, seeing him cornered. 

Time had warned him. He still needed to master the landing. 

But he could not risk waiting now.

The lynel’s snarling face held his gaze as the broadsword slammed into his shield with a terrible wrenching sound.  It cut through the shield! A pulse, like lightning, shot up his right arm. His vision swam as the blow threatened to shove him down. 

But the lynel staggered back. It stared blankly at him, stunned. 

It worked! Now, for the rest!

Hyrule jumped with every ounce of strength he could muster in his legs, and not with the aid of magic but purely his own strength. Let the momentum carry you, The memory of Time’s deep voice calmed him. 

His body rose into the air in a dense, forceful way so different from his Fairy form—raw, propulsive momentum in place of delicate wings gently riding the air. The world curved gracefully as he somersaulted higher, his sword at the ready. 

Helm splitter. 

His blade slammed into the beast’s skull. 

Dark ooze clung to the edge of his blade as he rolled forward. 

Black blood? 

For a moment, he remained weightless, then panic set in as he began to descend. If he had enough magic, he’d have cast his fairy spell to save himself, but none remained. 

Remember, don’t try any of this until you can stick the landing.

The ceiling and the floor spun and merged into a smear of light and dark, His stomach swooped and churned as gravity grabbed him. He catapulted downward, and tried in vain to grab something, anything.

Far beyond the lynel, his legs slammed onto merciless stone, but his body continued forward until his head cracked against the cold stone. He lay in a blinding haze of numbness and confusion.

Through the ringing in his ear, he heard a muffled yell. 

Someone was shouting, the sound reverberating painfully in his skull. The words slowly pieced together. It was …the kingdom? No, his name . 

“Hyrule! Wake up!” 

He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t! Couldn’t see! Couldn’t breathe! 

A familiar hand grabbed his shoulder as he gaped like a fish, trying to pull in the intangible substance all around him, but his lungs refused to draw the air in. 

At last, his lungs opened, and he gasped, painfully loud to his aching ears. His vision returned. The ringing sound finally stopped.

“Hyrule? You with us? Thank Hylia!”

He tried to make sense of what he saw. Sky’s worried face. Twilight’s frown. 

“‘Rulie, are you alright?” The ranch hand asked gruffly. 

Hyrule winced as he sat up. Too much happened all at once. 

His head. His arm. His brothers. Where was the lynel?

Sky moved closer so Hyrule could lean on his shoulder. Hyrule appreciated the rest, and collapsed onto him. The pressure in his head and on his arm grew stronger, sharper. 

“Nice back slice.” Sky nodded to Twilight.

“Good timing with that skyward strike,” Twilight panted in reply, clapping Sky on the back. “And you, that looked familiar.”

Hyrule didn’t have the energy to respond, only nodding with a faint smile. 

“Rulie?” Twilight asked, and moved closer.

Sky carefully pulled up Hyrule's arm, but Hyrule gasped in pain and refused to look, not yet, watching Sky’s reaction instead. 

Sky’s worried eyes told Hyrule enough. He had already felt warm liquid trickling down the side of his face and down his arm. Pressure built unbearably in his head, and worse in his shield arm. The rush of adrenaline was hiding the worst of his injuries, but he knew it was bad.

He had to know. He had to fix it.  

Carefully, Hyrule touched his temple and looked down at his hands.

Blood. 

Hyrule’s throat tightened. The pressure in his right arm built into a searing pain. Hyrule winced and finally looked down at it. The lynel’s blade had easily sliced through his leather bracer and cut deep into his arm. More blood. He clapped his hand over the gash, but struggled to keep any more of the cursed liquid from spilling out. One thought raced over and over in his mind: make it stop or they’ll come! And he muttered, “I can’t stop it. I can’t… I have to stop this…or they won’t stop coming…” He pressed his hand desperately to the wound, but still it spilled out. “They can’t know I’m here!” He curled over his arm as if that might somehow stop the bleeding. 

“Rulie, it’s okay! I promise,” Twilight chided gently, “I don’t have potions, but I can bandage these up for you until we get back.” 

“Let me see what I’ve got,” Sky offered, and he began rummaging through his pack. 

Hyrule had not bled this much, for this long, in months. Frantic memories and nightmares jumbled together in his mind, but he resisted them, trying to hold on to the presence of his friends. I’m here. Safe. No cult. No ashes! Just the stupid altar , he tried to reassure himself. But he could not stop shaking. They can smell it. They’ll come.

He let go and searched frantically for a potion he knew he didn’t have. Still, he rummaged, hoping he’d miscounted or had another secret secret backup. Nothing. Blood slipped out from under his fingers. He could not keep it closed! He had to do something .

“Sky, did you happen to get any from Wild before we left?” Twilight asked.

“No, but I—”

“I have to stop this! Now! Stand back!” Hyrule yelled at them. They didn’t understand, and he didn’t have time to explain. He groaned as the throbbing pain in his arm compounded. He didn’t look forward to the flames. He had barely enough magic built up for it. He reached for his sword and let it blaze, the rubies and silver hilt enhancing the red light. He held out his gored arm and lowered the flames toward the wound. He winced at the heat, but it had to be done. He’d spilled too much already, but if they washed it away fast enough–

“Stop!” Sky and Twilight shouted in tandem. 

“I’ve got plenty of potions,” Sky lied, and sat beside Hyrule, holding out a quarter-full glass. 

Hyrule tossed his sword aside and drained the bottle. The warm, clean rush of healing spread across his whole body. He was relieved by the familiar tickle of skin growing and knitting closed. Only exhaustion remained.

Hyrule handed the bottle back to Sky. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to drink it all.”

“Don’t apologize. You needed it. We’ll give you more once we return to the camp.”

Still shaking more than he expected, he let Sky wipe the blood from his arm and hands while he caught his breath. 

“Is…is all this something we should know about?” Sky murmured to Hyrule.

Twilight crouched at his side, looking calm and relaxed but for a small frown that betrayed his anxious concern. “What’s the story, Rulie? Why are you so worried about closing up your arm?” 

They had to know. He just never wanted to… actually tell them. He felt dizzy.

Don’t overthink, just say it. Am I a Hero of Courage or not?   

“If my blood touches Ganon’s ashes… he’ll come back. He cursed me as he died. Monsters from my era can track the smell of my blood for miles.” 

Sky’s electric-blue eyes widened in shock. “As he died? He cursed you?”

Twilight sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around him. 

Sky sat down heavily and did the same.

“The statue back there? That altar at his feet is for me. For my blood to… I think we’re in an era after mine. They’ll never give up.” He looked at his hands, still stained between his fingers with blood. “People have died to help me before so I could escape the ritual. They didn’t deserve to die just for me, but we can’t let Ganon come back.” 

Twilight’s eyes shone bright with shock, anger, and sorrow. The pity hurt worst of all. 

“I…I’ve been able to take them on for a long time! Usually it’s no trouble to face them, especially if I’m alone and don’t have to worry about anyone else getting hurt. But, there’ve been… I just like being with you, with our group.”

“Faron’s light, ‘Rule,” Twilight sighed, “I’m sorry. Being hunted? I’ve seen what that’s like.” He hugged Hyrule tighter. 

The two held him closer between them. 

It felt so good to talk about it at last. Hyrule let his thoughts spill out. “And I know it won’t last, but I don’t want to go back. Not with Ganon’s monsters chasing me, keeping me away from everyone I care about, waiting for one wrong move too many. I just hope someone can stop him quickly when it happens. Maybe you all can come to my era, and stop him after I’m g–” 

“Rulie!” Sky growled, “Don’t say that! You’re not going to slip up. We won’t let that happen. I swear it. We’ll always have your back.”

Twilight jumped in too. “There’s no way they’ll win. You’re too tough, Traveler.”

“But it’s only a matter of time! I’m going to slip up again! And this time there won’t be a spell or a rescue or a portal to escape.” Hyrule took a shuddering breath and clutched Twilight’s arm. “I can’t keep running forever.”

“Rulie, we’ll always have your back, curse or not,” Sky said quietly. 

“We can figure this out. I’ve broken curses before.” Twilight’s deep voice reverberated in his hair. “It wasn’t easy, but you’ve got a lot of us on your side. Din, I’d bet a hundred rupees Four figures something out within a week. The kid’s got quite a mind.”

Hyrule relaxed and smiled a little at the flood of ideas. Maybe. Just maybe. Four took puzzles personally . Could he really find a way to break the curse?

Sky squeezed his shoulder. “And we can ask all our Zeldas too. You know, I dont think it’s just the Shadow that brought us together. I believe Hylia is guiding us. She wants us to work together. Perhaps this is one more reason. And we’ll do everything we can, here and now, while we’re together.”

“And long after.” Twilight’s whisper was barely audible, but he’d curled his head down closer, burying his face in the Traveler’s hair. 

“Thank you,” Hyrule whispered back. A smile warmed his cheeks. Finally sharing his curse felt like dropping a heavy pack at the end of a long trek, and he breathed deeply. What chance did Ganon’s spell have against the will of such heroes? For this moment, the curse didn’t matter at all. He was safe, and surrounded by the best family he’d ever known. For the first time in ages, he felt a clear spring of hope in his spirit.  

They sat a long time, resting together in the light of Twilight’s lantern, keeping each other warm in the cold room.  

“Alright, unless we plan to stay the night here and keep everyone else worried sick, we’d better find out where this key goes.” Twilight said. Clouds of dust filled the air and he brushed off and collected his items.

Hyrule and Sky joined him. 

Part 3: CLEAR 

The third door looked simple, and when they stepped through, nothing stirred in the light of Twilight’s lantern. No treasure gleamed. Only a stone stairway far ahead leading up to a door. 

“No treasure?” Twilight looked around. 

“There!” Sky and Hyrule pointed in the same direction.

Cracks riddled the wall to the left. Twilight barked a laugh and held out a hand to Sky. The knight passed him a bomb, and soon the wall burst into rubble, tiny stones rolling past their feet. 

They ran through the dust to see.

“By Hylia,” Sky gasped.

The room sparkled as the lantern’s humble glow reflected a thousand different directions over the gold and jewels piled on the ground. Gems snatched the faint lamplight and reflected it back tenfold in their brilliant hues.  

“They’re going to be so jealous,” Hyrule said breathlessly. “How much do you think we can fit in our pouches?”

“Let’s find out,” Twilight answered.

Once the large key opened the last door, they passed from the cramped cave stairway and hurried out into the fresh night air. Stars filled the sky, the storm just a dark line on the horizon.  They stood near the top of the same steep hill they’d entered. 

Not far beyond the base of the hill, the campfire glowed between the trees. They must have saved or restarted the fire somehow. 

Sky looked thoughtfully at the small light below.

“Hyrule, do any of them know? I only ask because I can keep a secret here and there, but I’m not the best at keeping track of who knows and who doesn’t.” Sky smiled a little self-consciously, and palmed the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I haven’t told anyone, but Legend probably figured out some of it. He always slips me extra potions.”

“We can sit on this for a while, if you need time. Nothing new for me,” Twilight barked a laugh. 

“No, I want to tell them.” Hyrule said. I won’t keep running alone. “Let’s get it over with. We’ve got a lot to explain, hopefully before Time gives us his stink-eye.” 

Twilight laughed before turning into his wolf form. Hyrule followed him down the hill toward the light ahead.

THE END-ish

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hyrule & Sky (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Twilight (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Time (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Warriors (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe), Four & Wind (Linked Universe) Characters: Hyrule (Linked Universe), Twilight (Linked Universe), Sky (Linked Universe), Time (Linked Universe), Legend (Linked Universe), Warriors (Linked Universe), Wind (Linked Universe), Four (Linked Universe), Wild (Linked Universe) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hyrule (Linked Universe) Has a Blood Curse, Blood and Injury, Human Sacrifice

[tornadoquest]

Tornado Quest Top Science Links For December 23 - 30, 2023 #science #weather #climate #climatechange #wintersafety #windchill #droughtmonitor

Greetings everyone and thanks for stopping by. As 2023 wraps up, we’ll review the climate data on 2023, winter weather safety, and the US Drought Monitor. I hope everyone has a safe and happy New Year holiday. ICYMI: As 2023 comes to an end, it’s become very clear through solid scientific data that it was our planet’s hottest year on record. There was plenty of climate news in 2023, but was it…

[sorenphelps]

I've hopped on to the rockstar AU bandwagon so hard that I just had to make more fanart, which somehow turned into a full post explaining further the scoring chart and my detailed Marauders Band AU headcanons with a lot of sample music linked!! It's long so I hid it under the cut, enjoy and please share your thoughts, I'm desperate!

Sirius has a powerful, deep, and a little raspy voice, with quite a large vocal range (might have minor difficulties with the very high notes). He can play a lot of musical instruments: guitars (acoustic, electric, bass), piano, and drums if it’s absolutely necessary. He picked up a tiny little bit of violin too from his brother, and tried some wind instruments too, but never really got the hang of them. His preferred style of music is all kind of rock, but he is opened to new genres. He is an adequate composer, but he is prone to overdramatize his works and lyrics, his real talent is his charismatic vocals. Samples: x x x x x

Remus has a softer singing voice with an average range, generally higher than Sirius’ and not as charismatic. His kind of music is more alternative and chill (sexy even), focusing more on the actual technicalities and lyrics. He can play a cello (electric too) and a bass guitar perfectly, and he learned how to play other instruments too, so he would feel “caught up” to his friends’ levels (even though he is the most proficient bass player ever, and his lyrics are basically high-end poetry, which can be paralleled by only Sirius on his best days). He likes to incorporate unconventional solutions to his music (e.g. autotune effects, weird traditional instruments, etc.). Samples: x x x x x

James is bad at singing, he has a very average voice with quite a small vocal range if any. However, he can play a lot of musical instruments (his preference being the drums) and is a talented sound engineer. He is the best composer among his friends, he has the most experimental style. He has very creative ideas, and is best at helping his friends to make music together, enhancing their individual strengths and transforming their shared talent into something better. Samples (including a bonus collab he composed for Lily & Sirius and a collab with Remus): x x x x x x x

Lily has a very feminine, soft and even angelic voice, which is best paired with either a folk-ish alternative music style or rock/metal. She has the kind of voice, which just enhances any “epic” music with heavy guitar riffs or drum solos, basically anything, which is just very characteristic and theatrical by its own, and would be very overwhelming if for example Sirius would sing in them with his also very charismatic and powerful vocals. Lily is a very skilled piano player and singer with a wide vocal range, her songs are usually get picked as soundtrack for fantasy video games. Samples: x x x x x

Peter is more interested in classical music and the business side of music, he is a surprisingly adept talent scout and manager. As he is missing a finger, the musical instruments he could play is very limited. He is secretly a very skilled opera singer however. Samples: x x x

[chrysalizzm]

vine boom. wasteland character expression memes

read the series here.

(more on the characters and also quality details under the cut)

so wasteland, the series currently being updated on ao3, focuses pretty much entirely on the dsmp cast, but behind the scenes the cast of this thing is sprawling, including but not limited to empires, hermitcraft, the life series, mcc participants, smpearth, noxcrew, older guard mcyts like jordan n mitch n jerome n seto n deadlox, speedrunners, tiredtwt, outsiders smp, fable smp, redacted smp, and my personal scrungklies, which are team salad, a korean mcyt group that brings me great joy. this is why there r characters on this expression meme chart that u probably do not recognize if u are a) under the age of 18 b) exclusively know dream smp or c) are not a korean speaker. some fun facts abt the wasteland characters, their powers, or the circumstances in which these expressions take place:

ivory was a sidekick for hermit that was chased into villainy following her coming out as trans. as throne, she is now one of jordan's lieutenants in trinity and has assassinated several government officials.

jimmy, alias firebird, is an empire offices hero. he also happens to be allied with the fates under the alias wildfire. i'm sure this is of no import in the story /lie

i cannot imagine in what circumstance punz would ever make that expression. mans is chill as fuck.

i accidentally anime boyed the hell out of fruit, alias floodbloom under chase co. he has a lot of admirers on tumblr and about two thirst accounts on twitter

shelby's (alias wilder) hero uniform is heavily inspired by princess mononoke. she's signed on under empire offices, like jimmy, and can release poisonous spores from her skin.

tommy's doing the nervous lore laugh in that drawing

velvet is doing the anime lady hohoho pose while covered in blood. if he didn't have painful and complicated emotions about velvet turning to villainy, ant would be swooning

dont worry about why illumina is covered in blood it is absolutely not related to the series whatsoever /suspicious. instead consider how illumina (alias anima) is fruit's hero partner under chase co.

shoutout to @pixelperfunctory for this req. thats the most boomer ass lookin expression in the world

a brooding phil (not to be confused with a broody phil, which is c!phil). techno starts to see this expression more and more as they get older.

not to toot my own horn but foolish came out extraordinarily handsome in this drawing. he has some golden scales and they glimmer brighter when he's happy, which eret is very fond of.

grian, who we know as seraphim from wonderland, is remarkably scrungkly. he has three sets of wings and is a talented flier.

wilbur also came out quite beautiful, blood and tears notwithstanding. the next fic scheduled to be published hopefully either by the end of may or early june might shine some light on his expression here

sapnap, like ivory and shelby, would probably tear someone's throat out with his teeth given the opportunity. in the interim he gets thousands of thirst traps made of him by adoring stans.

i imagine that's the kind of AYO?? expression ponk makes whenever sam short-circuits the entire spark co. headquarters

my boy. he's not lookin too good

mapple (villain name kallisti, also known by other villain orgs as she of the heights) my scrungkly. in wasteland he's the leader of villain org team salad which is not at all what it appears to be. that particular drawing is a rare moment where he's being flustered by his very charming queerplatonic partner parkmo.

oh my love. by the time the silver age ends seto has been dead for six years. in life he was one of chase co.'s senior heroes, alias sigil, and he could control the wind. his friends - mitch and jerome, especially, who are the joint heads of chase co. - loved him very much.

[queen-of-sand-castles]

Gothic Chronicles: Midnight's Veiled Secrets

This is a collection of poems that explore themes of loss, love, and the supernatural. Each piece offers a unique perspective on the complex emotions that accompany these experiences. As you read through this anthology, you may find yourself connecting with the universal truths that resonate within these lines.

1st poem: **Crimson Manuscripts**

In ancient halls where silence reigns,

Dust-laden tomes breathe secrets, unrestrained.

I walk the edge of lore, long since forgotten,

My heart inscribed with desires begotten.

With quill in hand, my constant guide,

Into the well of night, I confide.

A scribe of echoes from the void,

Crafting words, in melancholy alloyed.

"Unveil your stories, O manuscripts of red,

Your vellum skin to my soul is wed.

A nomad I, charting celestial designs,

In the margins of sonnets, my spirit aligns."

Shadows dance in the candle's fickle glow,

Over leather-bound legacies of long ago.

My pen bleeds ink, as if it were life,

Carving my essence amidst existential strife.

Epochs lost, their essence I distill,

In a whirlwind of memories that time can't kill.

An alchemist of words, in the arcane I delve,

Turning longing into verses, transiently shelved.

"Speak, O crimson tomes, your veins wide spread,

Upon your pages, my yearnings are said.

A wanderer am I, through constellations I roam,

In the forgotten verses, I find my home."

Gargoyles stand guard, stoic and grim,

At the gates of forever, their visages dim.

Their stone-cast gaze, the moon's sorrow reflects,

As I seek comfort in ancient dialects.

The piano's lament, the violin's cry,

And the cello's deep thrum under centuries lie.

On the brink of the void, I dance alone,

My steps resounding in a timeless tone.

"Reveal your depths, O manuscripts of hue,

My longing etched on your surface true.

A traveler of the stars, in your words I'm dressed,

In the forgotten poetry, my journey's expressed."

As the last note into silence wanes,

Within these lines, my spirit remains.

A ghostly minstrel serenading the night,

On eternity's parchment, my soul takes flight.

2nd poem: **Eternal Shadows**

In this manor, I wander, through silence and gloom,

Footsteps echo softly in each abandoned room.

Moonlight bathes me gently, as I softly tread,

Among the living's memories, I whisper with the dead.

In the moon's soft glow, my secrets unfold,

A phantom in the night, a story left untold.

Eternal shadows, where I roam free,

In this house of spirits, it's just the ghosts and me.

Through halls of mystery, where silent echoes play,

We're the souls of forever, in the night we stay.

Dust dances in the beam, time seems to freeze,

In this place of stillness, where moments cease.

Portraits watch silently, as I pass them by,

In the manor's heart, where old secrets lie.

Shadows cling to my steps, as I tiptoe through time,

In this spectral dance, where memories chime.

In this realm of silence, where I drift unseen,

Amongst the echoes, a solitary queen.

In the mansion of whispers, where secrets sway,

We're the timeless wanderers, in the shadows we play.

Feel the past's chill, as it draws near?

In the wind's whisper, it's our voices you hear.

Shadows stretch eternal, in this spectral ballet,

With the phantoms, my companions, in the night we sway.

Through corridors of enigma, where muted stories say,

We're the everlasting echoes, in the twilight's gray.

In the moon’s waning light, I catch a fleeting glimpse—a face unfamiliar, yet tethered to my soul.

The manor murmurs secrets, and I am but an echo, lost in its labyrinth of forgotten moments.

3rd poem: **The Raven's Whisper**

Beneath the silver veil of moonlight's kiss,

Where shadows merge and secrets intertwine,

I wander through the garden of forgotten dreams,

Seeking solace in the petals of night-blooming flowers.

The moon, a silent witness to my yearning,

Whispers ancient verses to the restless wind.

Its luminescent fingers trace delicate patterns,

Weaving tales of love and loss across the sky.

In this nocturnal sanctuary, memories bloom,

Each petal a fragment of a fractured heart.

I pluck them one by one, like fragile confessions,

And scatter them upon the dew-kissed grass.

The nightingale, perched upon a moonbeam,

Sings a requiem for love's ephemeral dance.

Its melody weaves through the jasmine vines,

Echoing the ache of longing in every note.

I trace the constellations with trembling fingers,

Mapping out our celestial rendezvous.

Did you once stand here, beneath this same moon,

Whispering promises that time has now erased?

The night wears on, and I become a ghost,

Drunk on moonlight and the fragrance of roses.

Perhaps, in this enchanted hour, you'll return,

And we'll dance once more in moonlit reverie.

4th poem: **Whispers from the Veil**

Beneath the moon's soft veil, we gather,

In the dim-lit chamber, secrets tethered.

A séance of souls, both lost and found,

Where spectral echoes dance, unbound.

The crystal ball, a portal spun,

Holds reflections of lives undone.

Its facets catch the flicker of stars,

As we seek communion beyond the bars.

The medium's breath, a whispered plea,

Invites the unseen to speak with glee.

Their voices rise from shadowed past,

A chorus of memories that forever last.

"Tell us," we implore, "of love's sweet pain,

Of promises broken, of longing's refrain."

And the room trembles with their reply,

A symphony of whispers, reaching sky-high.

The air thickens, charged with their essence,

As they recount tales of love's evanescence.

Their fingers brush ours, a spectral touch,

And we glimpse eternity in moments such.

The séance chamber hums with cosmic threads,

Binding us to realms where time unweds.

In this dance of spirits, we find solace anew,

As moonlight weaves stories, both old and true.

5th poem: **Portrait Of Despair**

Whispers haunt the hallowed space,

A gallery where time's embrace

Has left a mark on every face,

Each portrait tells of sorrow's trace.

A viscountess, her gaze so stern,

Her lover's touch she did spurn.

Now in her eyes, the cold fires burn,

For his return, she'll always yearn.

A captain, lost to ocean's wrath,

His ship did stray from charted path.

In stormy seas, he met his fate,

His portrait speaks of storms innate.

A child, with eyes so wide and clear,

His innocence was held so dear.

Yet fate was cruel, the night unkind,

His story leaves tears behind.

A maiden fair, with golden hair,

Once danced with grace, a pair so rare.

But love was lost, the dance did end,

Her silent song, it does transcend.

A poet's quill, now still and broke,

His verses lost, like vanished smoke.

The inkwell dry, the parchment torn,

For his muse, forever mourn.

A duelist with rapier drawn,

Stands proud and fierce, yet all forlorn.

His honor kept, his life forsworn,

In morning's light, he lies forlorn.

A widow's veil, her somber shroud,

Her whispered grief, it speaks aloud.

Her heart entombed, her love enshrined,

In painted form, her woes confined.

A jester's laugh, forever mute,

His mirthful mask, a grim dispute.

Behind the paint, the tears dilute,

His joy's facade, now destitute.

Each frame, a window to the past,

Holds echoes of a spell once cast.

The gallery, a somber host,

To each despairing, silent ghost.

So tread with care through memory's lane,

Where painted eyes live on in pain.

For every tale the portraits share,

Reflects a soul once trapped in despair.

The gallery grows, the walls extend,

New portraits join, old stories blend.

In this domain where spirits send

Their silent pleas, their hearts to mend.

Here, time stands still, the world outside

Fades to a whisper, hushed and wide.

Each canvas breathes, each shade confide,

The depths of pain they cannot hide.

So linger long, and gaze upon

The faces here, not truly gone.

Their silent mouths may yet respond,

In this gallery, they live beyond.

6th poem: **Cryptic Alchemy**

Shadowed chambers, whispers weave,

A blend of dark synth and mysterious chants,

Forbidden knowledge etched in cryptic runes,

Where secrets stir and ancient echoes dance.

No sun's embrace, no moon's soft kiss,

Only shadows' veiled embrace and moonless nights,

The alchemist, a weaver of enigma, chants,

Arcane melodies that pierce the void's veil.

Ebon potions simmer in onyx cauldrons,

Their essence distilled from forgotten realms,

Each drop a tincture of forgotten memories,

A concoction of lost dreams and starlight's breath.

The astral symphony crescendos, spiraling,

As darkness and light entwine, seeking balance,

The alchemist, eyes ablaze with ancient fire,

Unravels the cosmic threads, seeking truth.

Glyphs etched on obsidian tablets sing,

Their meaning veiled, yet yearning to be known,

For Cryptic Alchemy weaves the fabric of existence,

Where shadows birth illumination, and silence speaks.

So listen, mortal seeker, to the whispers of the void,

For within their echoes lie the keys, the ciphered codes,

Unlock the gates, step beyond the mundane,

And become the alchemist, weaver of mysteries.

7th poem: **Whispers from the Attic**

Creaking floorboards, distant voices,

A symphony of past choices,

Echoes of steps that once did pace,

Through corridors of time and space.

Above, where dust motes dance in light,

The attic holds its court at night,

A realm of silence, still and deep,

Where secrets their sacred vigil keep.

What tales are etched within these walls?

Of grandeur's rise and empire's falls,

The gentle touch of a lover's hand,

A sailor's journey to distant lands.

Here, the whispers are not of dread,

But of life's tapestry, finely thread,

A dressmaker's needle, a writer's pen,

Moments captured, again and again.

The attic, with its musty scent,

Is a treasure trove of times spent,

A chest of memories, locked away,

Awaiting the light of day.

Photographs in sepia tones,

Love letters in heartfelt overtones,

A child's toy, long forgotten,

In this space, nothing is rotten.

Each creak a word, each shadow a story,

A chronicle of both joy and worry,

The attic speaks to those who hear,

Its whispers clear, its message dear.

So venture forth, if you dare,

To uncover the mysteries waiting there,

For in the whispers from the attic's heart,

Lies a world set apart.

8th poem: **Gargoyle's Serenade**

I was supposed to be sent away,

To lands where stone figures don't sway,

But here I stand, a guardian grim,

Upon the cathedral's highest rim.

Carved from the earth's own rugged bone,

I watch the city, silent and alone,

A sentinel in the sky's expanse,

Overseeing the human dance.

My gaze is fixed, my purpose clear,

To ward off evil, to calm the fear,

With guitar in hand, I play my part,

A serenade from the stone heart.

The melody weaves through spire and stone,

A song of ages, through winds blown,

It tells of battles, of love, of strife,

Of the endless ebb and flow of life.

The chords resonate, deep and profound,

In every corner, the notes resound,

A testament to the watch I keep,

While the city below lies in sleep.

By day, I'm still, a figure austere,

By night, my music, the heavens hear,

A symphony for the stars above,

Played with a touch of eternal love.

The moon bathes me in silver light,

As I play on through the quiet night,

A gargoyle's serenade, pure and true,

For the cathedral and for you.

So let the guitar's voice rise and swell,

Let it break the night's silent spell,

For in this song, you'll find ensnared,

The spirit of the guardians paired.

And when the dawn paints the sky anew,

And the city stirs, life to pursue,

Remember the music that filled the air,

From the gargoyle's perch, high up there.

9th poem: ** Midnight Masquerade **

Under the moon's silver gaze, the night unfurls its cape,

A ballroom emerges in the forest's embrace.

"Midnight Masquerade," whispers the wind's soft escape,

Where shadows and starlight waltz in silent grace.

Masked figures glide, their steps a silent plea,

To the rhythm of hearts, to the pulse of the night.

Each turn, a story, a hidden fantasy,

Faces veiled in mystery, souls alight.

The moonlit sky, a witness to their dance,

Casts a glow on masks of velvet and lace.

In the masquerade's enchanting trance,

Time dissolves in the dancers' harmonious space.

A clock strikes twelve, the spell gently breaks,

But the dance lives on in dreams it awakes.

For in the night's tender, fleeting sweep,

The masquerade's magic is ours to keep.

10th poem: ** Fading Candlelight **

Quiet whispers linger in the room's embrace,

Where the last candle's flame begins its trace.

"Fading Candlelight," it hums with grace,

A tale of twilight, in the evening's chase.

Its flame dances with a tender, wistful air,

A ballet of shadows in the dimming lair.

Each flicker, a memory, each spark, a sigh,

A symphony of moments, as time ticks by.

The wax drips slowly, a river of tears,

For the passing days, the fleeting years.

The light wanes gently, a golden hue,

A silent sentinel in the dusk's purview.

Around the flame, the darkness creeps,

A cloak of obsidian, where daylight sleeps.

Yet in its warm embrace, the candle stands,

A beacon of hope in the night's vast lands.

The room breathes softly, a lullaby's tune,

As the candle's aura fills the cocoon.

Stories unfold in its radiant bloom,

A dance of life in the encroaching gloom.

The flame leans low, a lover's caress,

Against the night, a silent confess.

Its brilliance wavers, a faltering heart,

A sign that soon, it must depart.

But oh, the tales it could tell,

Of love and loss, of heaven and hell.

In its light, life found a stage,

A book of hours on an ephemeral page.

Now the candle's breath grows thin,

A final flicker from within.

The shadows lengthen, reaching out,

Embracing all in a silent shout.

And as the last ember takes its bow,

The room is shrouded in the now.

"Fading Candlelight," a whisper's trace,

Leaves behind a darkened space.

Yet in the black, a new day stirs,

For life persists, it still endures.

The candle's gone, but in its wake,

A new dawn blooms, for us to take.

So let the night claim its due,

For with the morn, we start anew.

In the heart of darkness, find the light,

And hold it close, through the longest night.

[head-of-the-science-directorate]

Explaining the arcane

The arcane in which Akronus lives is a delicate and often disorganised thing, with many base elements of magic conflicting with each other, yet existing in perfect harmony. Every part of this magic obeys a “soft” way of thinking, with very few parts of each magic outlined, but that which is very well documented is the process in which a wizard learns more difficult schools of magic, a sorcerer gains new innate masteries, and a warlock is gifted secrets by their patrons.

First are the six base elements, which combine and evolve to create more difficult schools, and then evolve once again, and even further until it reaches its 4th level of arcane the most difficult and complex pieces, not to mention the few “main” magics. Which all experienced arcane masters have access too, and will often learn to advance their skill. While there is also a supplementary chart on how different magics relate to each other (a knowledge very much needed by sorcerers), the following magics have been expanded on due to their less straightforward names, though Exotic magics barely ever learnt by any mage are included separately.

Shapeshifting: the art of embodying one’s inner animal, shapeshifting magic allows an individual to manipulate their own form to embody their inner animal, often a small wild animal. More experienced mages can not just quickly embody these forms, but have mastered them, allowing them to evolve these forms to impossible levels. One of the 3 main magics.

Armament magic: the school of Armament magic allows one to channel the arcane into mech suit like armour, which allows the users of this magic to protect themselves and embody more modern devices in their magic, though in a much more physical form than technomancy.

Undeath: Undeath is the art of resurrecting the dead as undead creations, distinct from the weak zombies of the baseline necromancy school or the true resurrection of the resurrection school.

Schools in order of their levels, and precursor schools, italicised, schools have two different possible precursors. Please note almost all mages will have too learn two different magics before they progress to the next levels of schooling.

1st level schools: transmutation, necromancy, lightning, cold, fire, nature.

Transmutation: enchantment, golemancy. (Third level) earth magic, undeath. (Fourth level) matter manipulation.

Necromancy: sickness, deaths chill. (Third level) Resurrection, undeath. (Fourth level) soul magic.

Lightning: thunder, golemancy. (Third level) thunder, Armament. (Fourth level) technomancy.

cold: ice, deaths chill. ocean, icefire. (Third level) frost, wind. (Fourth level) blizzard.

Fire: desert, wildfire. Volcanomancy, icefire. (Third level) Armament, hellfire. (Fourth level) magma.

Nature: animals, wildfire. (Third level) Earth magic, resurrection. (Fourth level) World shaping.

Main magics: teleportation, alchemy, shapeshifting.

Exotic magics: Memory, Unholy, beast, Eldritch, space.

(@aelin-the-soft @f4y3w00d5 @gobodegoblin @monsterfucker-research-wizard @good-wizard)

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Ripple, A Tidal Wave - Part I

Summary: An AU where Feyre encounters a very different faerie in the woods. One she decides not to kill.

A contribution to @officialfeysandweek2023. Starfall = fallen star = sad, injured bat, right?

Read on AO3

-

The forest had become a labyrinth of snow and ice.

Feyre flexed her fingers. They’d gone stiff from the cold. The worn leather from her father’s old carving glove hardly fought off the chill of the gusting wind that cut through the clearing, lashing against the thicket of trees at its parameter where she had been crouched for the better part of an hour.

It was impossible to keep her hands from going numb in these conditions. Still, she flexed them, praying for the blood to rush back into the fingers she had curled around her drawstring. Feyre had overheard the village’s hunters in the marketplace, talking about the wolf tracks they had seen. Pawprints as large as your head. An embellishment, surely, but that didn’t change that the wolves would only come this close to the village for the same reason that Feyre would delve this deep into the woods.

They were hungry.

Winter was harsh for everyone. Even the forest was restless—too quiet, too still. She wouldn’t have risked coming here, knowing there were wolves, if her family wasn’t desperate. As far as they were concerned, Ferye would either return with food, or be taken by the forest so that they had one less mouth to feed. It was favorable for them either way.

Unless Feyre returned empty handed, which was looking more and more likely the longer she crouched in the snow, watching the sun’s slow descent across the horizon through gritted teeth. Only a few more hours left of daylight. Soon she would need to turn back lest she try to navigate her way in the dark and double her chances of getting eaten by wolves.

In the back of her mind, she could already hear Nesta’s disapproving snort. The way her vicious eyes would cut immediately to Feyre’s empty hands, how she’d cross her arms over her chest and hurtle all number of accusations without saying anything at all. Nesta had a gift for communicating her every hostile thought with one single, withering glance. Feyre had witnessed her sister grind men to dust without so much as opening her mouth.

Sometimes, pinned beneath that look, Feyre wanted to cry to her, then why don’t you do it?

But Nesta wouldn’t. And neither would Elain. And their injured father couldn’t. So it was Feyre, stalking through the woods, letting the ice soak into her bones. One day, someone would ask what had turned Feyre Archeron so cold and she would point to the forest. It was here her heart had frozen over. It was here, she’d traded her innocence for survival.

Here, it was kill or be killed.

Feyre began rising from the snow-heavy brambles, stifling a groan at the protest of her stiff limbs. She froze, mid-way through stretching, as a great, terrible noise erupted through the forest. It was pure, blood-pumping instinct that threw Feyre’s body back to the ground, covering in the bramble like she expected blowback from the sound. Like the warning rumble of thunder before the lethal strike of lightning.

The howling wind stilled. There was no mass retreat of wildlife, no birds escaping to the skies. It was like everything held its breath, terrified of being caught by the creature as it bellowed another anguished roar.

It wasn’t like any wolf Feyre had ever heard.

She needed to leave. Now.

Still ducked beneath the bush, Feyre angled her head towards the forest, eyes darting across the tangled roots and underbrush to chart the best path back to the village. One that would offer coverage, would give her a fighting chance if the beast—whatever it was—decided to pursue.

The noise came again. Softer, now, more wounded. Had it been attacked? Or was it mimicking injury to lure its prey closer?

Her heart was beating so quickly that each beat leapt into her throat. The brush rustled on the other side of the clearing. It was coming towards her. It was too late to run. She drew her bow, ignoring the tremble in her fingers, how the air was collecting in front of her in short, breathless exhales.

Feyre peered through the thorns.

The wings stood out to her first. Large, membranous bat-like wings. They had been what caused the rustling, for they dragged against the ground, catching on the underbrush.

More startling than the wings, however, was that they belong to a man. No, a faerie. He was too far away to glimpse his pointed ears, but the wings certainly gave it away. He was stumbling forward, an arm slung protectively around his bleeding stomach while the other pushed aside the wayward tree branches. His entire body slumped inwards, around the wound at his center that trekked blood in a ruby-red path behind him.

When he made it to the center of the clearing, his knees gave out, and he stumbled face-first into the snow. Feyre held her position for several breaths, eyes fixed intently on his shoulders, watching their shallow rise and fall as pool of blood collected beneath him.

Her arrow was still notched, still aimed at him through the brush.

He was a faerie. She should have killed him for that fact alone.

His body twitched, then stilled.

Maybe he was already dead. Maybe she should shoot him, just for good measure. Put him out of his misery.

It would be a waste of an arrow, she decided. He looked dead. Besides, there was still the threat of whatever had done this to him. She pushed her aim higher, monitoring the thicket he had come from. She should be running. She should be gone.

Her aim dipped back to the male lying helpless in the snow.

Snow-tipped wind nudged playfully at the wisps of his blue-back hair. It was the color of the night sky when no stars touched it.

From the amount of blood coloring the snow beneath him, he was almost certainly dead.

Feyre lifted from her crouch. The icy snow crunched under her fraying boots. Her mouth felt dry.

He looked so… so still.

She drew her knife and edged closer, more of him coming into view. Those wings were so much larger—so much more stunning, more horrific—up close. Now, she could see the sun warming their leathery surface, glinting off the sharp claw that rested at each apex. A useless part of her stirred, the part that was fascinating by colors and shadows and the way the sunlight illuminated the veins in his wings. She felt oddly tempted to reach her hand out and touch them.

Except they twitched, and Feyre faltered a step back, nearly stumbling.

Not dead yet, then.

Her grip on the knife tightened. It was difficult to tell with his face in the snow, but Feyre thought he looked young, not much older than Nesta. Though the fae were immortal and he could just as easily be centuries old.

For a creature that could defy time itself, he didn’t look very intimidating now. If she looked past the wings, she could almost pretend he was just a wounded man. Someone who was suffering with every slowing breath. Someone who… someone who needed help.

Inwardly, she was screaming at herself, wondering why she didn’t just bury the knife in his back and run. Or better yet, the asharrow that had sat unused in her quiver for the last three years.

She touched his hair. It was soft, silken yet damp from the snow. She tightened her fingers and used that grip to, as delicately as she could, turn his head to the side. He groaned, a barely conscious sound that told her he was still alive.

For a moment, Feyre could do nothing but stare at the face before her. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, even with the sweat and snow clinging to his skin, and the way his face pinched in pain. He had full, sensuous lips that she ordinarily might have been tempted to study, were they not parted open to expel slow, shallow breaths.

His eyes were shut, and behind his eyelids she could see his pupils moving rapidly.

It wouldn’t even be necessary to stab him. She could leave him here and he would undoubtedly be dead by morning, buried beneath layers of snow. No one would miss him, certainly not in the mortal village. And judging by the mortal wound his own kind must have dealt him, Feyre doubted he would be missed beyond the wall, either.

She stared at him, feeling an unexpected sense of dread, of pity, rise within her. Objectively, she knew that it was absurd to feel bad for him. He was a faerie, and if he weren’t gravely injured, it would likely have been her blood seeping into the snow.

But no one would care if she didn’t come out of the woods, either.

It could have been her laying face down in the snow. No one would have bothered to come looking for her. No one would have helped.

Praying for mercy from the long forgotten gods—as if they would even indulge her for being so foolish—Feyre sheathed her knife. Their options were limited. Sundown was fast approaching and he was… he was ginormous. It wasn’t as if she could run to the village for help, they would sooner finish the job. And he was too heavy to carry back to the cottage. Not that she would. Nesta and Elain would never agree to help him.

No, she needed to take him somewhere close and out of the snow so that she could take a closer look at his wounds. The only thing that came to mind was a small, deserted hunter’s shack further in the forest, leftover from a time when humans felt comfortable enough to venture that close to the wall. Or a time when they were desperate enough to risk it.

The first difficult task would be getting him onto his back. She’d need to drag him a way’s through the forest and she couldn’t risk the dirt and undergrowth catching in his wound. With the wings, turning him over would be a cumbersome task—especially given that they looked heavy.

After several moments of deliberation, puzzling over the best approach, Feyre decided to forgo caution and just move him. It was better than letting him bleed out in the snow. But the second her hand curled around the edge of his wing, his eyes snapped opened.

Feyre dropped it immediately, letting the massive appendage fall back to the snow with a soft smack. He groaned.

His eyes fluttered shut again, giving her the confidence to step forward. “I’m trying to help you,” she said to him. “I don’t… I’ve never met someone with wings before. So you have to be patient with me.”

He made a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, like he was choking on something liquid. Then a moment later his wing fluttered, trying to lift it, and Feyre decided she could meet him halfway. With the faerie taking some of the weight off, she was able to fold the wing to the side.

“Thank you,” she said. Then, “If you thought that was bad, this next part isn't going to be very fun.”

Feyre could almost mistake his answering grunt for a laugh. She took that as permission to haul him upwards from beneath the shoulder, trying to both lift and roll him onto his side. He hissed—a weak, agonized sound that raised every hair on her arms.

“You’re almost there,” she said, not letting the noise deter her movements. If she did, it would only prolong the pain. “Just suck it up a little more.”

It felt like pushing a boulder up a hill. Feyre was panting by the time she got him propped on his side, and from there it was only a matter of letting gravity do the rest. She rolled him, inelegantly, onto his back, wincing at the way his wing had folded under him. It wasn’t perfect, or comfortable, but nothing about this experience would be.

He slumped into the snow once it was done, tilting his head back in exhaustion like he had been the one to lift a male twice his size. Though, from the wounds splitting across his torso—the worst of them a deep gash stretching from his sternum to his naval—Feyre supposed she shouldn’t be complaining.

The sight of the gore made her feel dizzy. She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth like it might do anything to ease the rising bile in her throat. Feyre swallowed, trying to steady herself. Would whatever creature that had done this to him come for her next for trying to help? Would they come for Nesta and Elain?

“Rh—ys.”

It took Feyre a moment to register that he had spoken. Or tried to, at any rate.

“What?”

“Rhys,” he choked out, eyes opened to barely-there slits.

“Is that… your name?”

He just huffed, which Feyre took to mean yes.

“Well, Rhys,” she said, stepping around his body to kneel at his head. Her arms slid under his shoulders, securely his body beneath his armpits. “I hope those wings aren’t sensitive, because you and I have a long journey to make through those woods.”